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g^i^' -^^ PERCY P. SCHOCK, Editor and Proprietor. An Independent Family Journal, Devoted to News, Literature, Agriculture, and General Intelligence. TEPJIS-SI.SO PER ANNUM I)ISCOL>.T IOR TKErAYJlItNT. Established in 1854 MARIETTA, PA., SATURDAY, AUGUST 17, 1889. Vol. XXXVI, No. 3 VACATION SONQ. IhaTV closed my books and hidden mv slatfl^ And I threw my saciiel across the g«te. My school is out for a season of rest And now for the school-room I love the bestl My school-room lies on the meadow wide. Where under the clover the sunbeams hide; Where the long vines cling to the mossy ban. And the daisies twinlile lllce fallen stars. Where clusters of buttercups gild the scene, Liiks showers of gold-dust thrown over tha green, And the wind's flying footsteps are traced, m thoy pass, By tbe dance of tbe sorrel and dip of the grasa My lessons are written in clouds and trees, And no one whispers, except the breeze. Who sometimes blows, from a secret place, A8tra.v, sweet blossom against my faco. My school-bell rings in the rlpplinff stream, "Which hides Itself, like a school-boy's dream. Under a shadow and out of sight, But laughing still for its own delight My schoolmates there are the birds and beei, And the saucy squirrel, less wise than tbes^ Kor lie only learas In all tho weeks. )low man} chestnuts will fill bis cheeks. ' My teacher is patient, and nevor yet A lesson of hers did I onco forget; v For wonderful love do her lips impart. And all her lessons are learned by bear. O come! O come I or we shall be late. And autumn will fasten the golden gate. Of all the school-rooms in east or west, ' The school of nature I love the best. ^ —Pansy. FORTUNE'S FEEAKa strange Manner in Which a Lost L Oompetenoa Was Beg^ained. I was sitting in my study, my head propped .upon my hand, tvonderiag if the time had come when I must actu41« ly be a bread-and-butter writer; so far 1 had never vrrltten without being sure I had something to say, but now we had had potatoes for dinner without any embelllahments for throo days, things wore becoming grave, j'et the public were always demanding humor¬ ous articles. As I sat there, two or three plots camo to my mind, those I bad laid aside for future use, but I couldn't fix them up. I smiled de¬ risively; how often had I said to younger writers: "Never give way to moods or wait for inspiration; if you mako authorship your lifework, attend to it as to any other business; force yourBclf to the routine of working at it every day like any other bread-and- butter affair." Of course I had thrown in gratis, advise about talent, artistic feeling and training—my common sense for others was a good enough affair, but it did not work just now for me. I looked over at my vacant safe in the corner; not three years ago it had contained silver, jewelry and bills, not to mention some bonds, the interest of which might see us comfortably through Ufa Now, It stood a satire on our pov- »rty with its iron-bound sides aud empty vault There was a knock at my study door. "Just a minute, (uorge." said my wife on the othor side. She poked her bright, curly head in. "Oh, i jii:?t want to toll you; I know I ought nottouttomiit; but Sally has been telling me about her sis¬ ter Eliza, aud it would be such a good plot dear." "Come in and tell it Sue, I am just at my wits end." "Oh! I cau't You must hear Sally." My sweet little helpmeet seated herself on the edge of a chair, and said: "You know how \ love to hear Sally talk in her soft, negro voice, and aa »he was clearing the table I expressed my surprise at her having paid |26 for fi seal plush wrap." • 'Well, Miss Sue," said she, fixing her large eyes upon me and grasping the silver spoons and forks in ono hand, 'its the first thing new I've bought for myself in over three years, ceptln' workin' dresses like this. Don't you think I deserved it?' "She is so pretty, so plump, with such BOft, wavy hair; her eyes are beautiful, Qeorge, and her teeth so White." " 'How is that Sally?' " 'I had to use it for my family. Miss Sue; you soo they needed it Liza waa «lck a long time, then my father died, an' what with one thing an' other, the fSOO I'd put in the bauk all went; then I had to go In debt to Miss Jarvis, an' until I come up hero I was hard at work all the time to pay it off. I je»' got it paid 'fore I left Kentucky.' " 'filt down and tell me about ElUa,' I said, for I thought at once, George, that the material might be good for you; besides, sho always spoke of Kilztt in such a tender way 1 wanted to hear about her. •* 'You would have liked Liza, Miss Buo. Poor Liza!' She caught her breath, and the tears filled her dark eyes. 'Liza was younger than me, she was jes' full of life aa' singln' all the tima We us'd to love to get her at our Ironin' table; she us'd to work 'long side o' me. Why. Miss Sue, her face was jes' like a mornln'-glory. Every one us'd to be in good spirits when Liza u'd como slngin' through the yard an' poke her laughlu' face 4n the winder at us, 'fore she^-oame round to the door—but my! how sick she'd beea You wouldn't never thought it to seen her them' " 'Was she prettier than you, Sally P* I didn't mind asking a bit for every one thought Sally the prettiest mulatto In town. ••She looked at the spoons and forks, and answered, bashfully: '1 was ugly aide o' Liza.' " 'How old was Liza?' " "Liza was ouly eighteen then; 'twas after she was married." "'Yo'adont mean she was married then?' " "Yes, ma'am she was. We'd all known Joe since he waa a baby; we'd seen raised together. A rich woman adopted him—ric^ for colored folks, I mean. She had a greenhouse, and a right smart sum of money in the bank. When Joe come foolin' 'round L^a I didn't want her to have nothin' to do with him, 'cause we all knowed he was fast be' lived too high. He was handsome, an' Liza was young; an' you know how 'tis. Miss Sue, you might as well talk to the wind,ias to a girl that thinks she's in love. Miss Jarvis, that's Joe's aunt who'd adopted him, she gave them a big wedding. All the first col¬ ored folks in Bedvllle came, an' arter- wards Liza and Joe went off for a trip an' came back in a few weeks to live in Redville. While they was on their wedding trip I went to work In Louis¬ ville. My sister Annie was married an' lived there. One day when I went in to see her she looked that scared, and had a letter tucked in her dress. I be¬ gan to talk 'bout Liza, but she wouldn't teJk about her nohow; an' so I says: "Where's that letter from, you jes' now hid In your dress?" After awhile she gave it to me, an' O Miss Sue, it would 'a* broke your heart to read that letter. Seems like Liza never could 'a' wrote it '"She'd been married over a year then. She wouldn't write to me 'cause I'd been so down on hef marryin' Joe. Miss Sue, Liza wrote that letter a-lyin' on the fioor. Joe had sold the bed from under her. There wasn't a thing in tho house to eat Every stitch of the clothin' but the rags Liza wore, he had Bold. She'd burled her littte three- weeks-old baby tha day before. She was just dyin'.* "Sally gulped down a soU and tbe tears welled over ber lids and down her cheeks. •• 'If you could 'a' seen her when I got there! I wouldn't have known her, an' she jes' turned her pitiful eye» to me an' says: "Sally, you ain't mad at me, is you?" I jes' took her in my arms and cried over her. She was so thin you could see the bones comin' through. There she lay in her rags, with the cold wind stirriu' along tho floor, and not a morsel' of food had passed her lips for over two days. " 'Joe come In by and by half drunk, but he was sober enough to know what I said to him. I was that angry I felt like a giant an' wasn't afraid of him an' didn't care what I said- But Liza, ehe stroked his hand an' said, "Poor follow!" an' that made me so mad I nearly left her. I can't understand how it was. I think Liza must have been clear craay, but she said she loved hira arf wouldn't hear me scold bim. Bhe wouldn't leave him nohow, bo I fixed her up and went back to Louis¬ ville. My, how my heart ached for Liza! poor, foolish child. By an' by came a pitiful letter, but I wouldn't do nothin' till she'd promise never to see Joe again. I went an' brought her home to Mrs. Southworth, where I was workin'. I made her write it down that she'd never see Joe again, 'fore I'd take her back with me. He had done something dreadful, I reckon, else she wouldn't 'a' promised. "'He didn't even come to bid her good-by. I found her starvln' and even thinner than before, an' so I brought her home. She cheered up wonderful. She said she meant never to nfake me feel bad that I'd brought her home. Miss Southworth hired her, when she was well enough to work a little, an' so we both was In the same home. Miss Southworth made a fuss over Liza; she wanted her with her all the timo, but Liza liked to lie longsido o' me in the Ironin' room. She was so smllln' and happy you'd never havo thought she'd know what sorrow was, but when she thought I was not looking I'd see such a sad, wistful look in her eyes. She had an awful cough, an' once the doctor told me Liza would never be well. " *We found hor lyin' on the floor ono day, with her eyes closed. There was a bit of paper near her. She'd tried to crawl to the stove and couldn't so sho'd tore the letter up In little bits. We couldn't make out a word, but we knowed Joe wrote It " 'After that she never seemed to get well. We took her to my sister Annie, and she would lie In a stupor-like for days, but wheu she opened her eyes she was always askln' for njo. Soems like she wouldn't let me out of her eight She'd want me to be beside her ftu' she'd put her arms around my neck and draw my face olo.se to her's and say: "You ain't mad at me, Sally, no more. Is you? I've kept my prom- Ue.'" "The great tears brimmed over Sally's eyes and she went on: 'I couldn't leave her no longer, so I told Miss Southworth, an' then I went to stay at Anne's, an' took care of Liza. Oh, but she was beautiful. Miss Sue, her cheeks was pink an' her eyes so bright Some days she used to be well enough to bo dressed, an' she'd set by the window and look out as though she was holdln' her breath to listen, but sbe kept her promise an' neyer men¬ tioned Joe's name. She seemed 00 sad It almost broke my heart and one day I says: "Liza, do you want to see Joe?" " 'Such a look as came into her eyes! an' she smiled like her old self, an' then the wistful look came back an' she answered, so low I could scarcely hear her: ' 'You told me I must never speak his name." " 'The sobs jes' shook me, an' I kiss¬ ed hor and said: "You shell see him, Liza, I will send for him." But she caught my hand an' says: "Not now, Sally; not no^v. Not till I am dying. I thought may be he htid boon here." " 'An oh, how I wished he had, when I saw the look In her eyes. I'd give my life to have had him care enough to ask how she was; but I had to shake my head. " 'That night we sent telegrams over the country for him. Liza knew next morn' she was dying. Then she told me 'bout the letters she'd got from Joe, all 'bout a robbery, an'where he'd stowed the things, but she said she dared not tell me, because ehe*d promised never to mention his name. She wanted to Boe him. Sho said he was afraid to use the things for fear of bein' caught, an' all this time Liza had been mournln' over it an' waitin' to write him to give them to her; she'd take them back and bear the punishment " 'We told hor we'd sent for him to come; but she died that mornin' with the listenin' look on her face, and that day we read in the papers that Joe had been arrested for the robbery, but that he got away from the officers; but they fired at him and shot him dead.' "There," said my wife, "I've told^ you the story, and did not mean ta xou must hoar Sally tell it" I was filled with excitement; there was something more than that story in what my wife had been relating. She had been so interested In hearing of Liza, that she had not noticed some peculiar facts connecting it very close¬ ly with our own life. "Would you mind asking Sally to come in here to me?' I asked. "Be careful in questioning her, dear, or you may not get what you wish. I am so glad it will do, George, but be sure and show sympathy for her, else you can uot get her to tell it in a nat¬ ural way." "Dear me. Sue!" I burfet forth. "I can not contain myself; doi^ you see. any connection between that story and our loss?" I pointed to my empty safe. "Can't you remember when we lived in Orange and was not so poor? Can't you remember a colored coach¬ man by the name of Joe Ramsay, whose mother kept a greenhouse—" "Mercy!"' cried Sue, jumping up. "I never thought of It! You don't think that was Liza's husband?" "I certainly do." "Well, but Sally knows nothing about it?" "But we may get some clew to these bonds and—" "I will call her," and away flew my wife. The pretty mulatto, with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, came Into the room. My wife with subdued excite¬ ment stood beside her. "Mrs. Kercheval has been telling me of your sister Eliza and of her husband Joe Ramsay." I pronounced the name boldly, but Sally seemed not to notice it and answered: _^ , "Yes, sir." \ "' My wife nodded excitedly. ' "Did any one ever know where the bonds wepp that he stole?" I asked quietly. Sally took a step forward, her eyes wide with astonishment "You know about thom, then? Sir! Oh! do you know who lost them?" "Joe Ramsay was my coachman. We lived In Orange at the time. He w as- arrested for robbery, but was shot while trying to escapa No one knew IVhat he <lid with the bonds. I have the best authority for knowing they were never presented." Sally burst into tears. "Oh, I am so glad, so glad! Ah to think they were yours and Miss Sue's all the tlma Joe- buried those little papers under the floor of their room, Liza told me with her dyin' breath. She grieved so to; think she didn't know where the rest of the things was. She didn't think the- papers any 'count but I saved them thinking they might be; they're in my: trunk this minute. Liza would a' been so glad to know you got 'em back!" Thanks to the honesty of those sis¬ ters w» were once more well to do.' Over Eliza's grave we placed the mon¬ ument Sally had longed for, and to this day she Is Ignorant of how I was spared the necessity of writing simply for our bread and butter.—Boston Traveler. Things to Be Remembered. That the tongue Is not steel, yet It cuts. That cheerfulness Is the weather of the heart That sleep Is the best, stimulant a nervine safe for all to taka That It ie better to learn to say "no" than to be able to read Latin. That cold air is not necessarily pure, nor warm air necessarily impura That a cheerful face is nearly as good for ao; invalid as healthy weather. That there are men whose friends are more to be pitied than their enemlea That advice is like castor oil, easy enough to give, but hard enough to taka That wealth may bring luxuries, but luxuries do not always bring happiness. T^a.t grand temples are built of small stones, and great Uvea made up of trifling events. That nature is a rag merchant who works up every shred, and ra^, and end into new creationa That an open mind, an open hand, and an open heart would everywhere find an open door. That it i* not enough to keep the poor in mind{ give them something to keep you in mind. That men often pre ch from the. housetops while the devil Is crawling In at the basement below. That IJfe's real heroes and heroines are those who bear their own burdens bravely, and give a helping hand to those around them. That hasty words often rankle In the wound which Injury gives, andthatsoft words assuage It; forgiveness cures, and forgetfulness takes away the scar.— London Quiver. ¦—He—"What are the wild waves saying?" She—"Oh, they are proba¬ bly making some current remark."— Philadelphia Press. AT A CHURCH FAIR. How Mr. Blank Was Robbed by His Na- merous l4id7 Friends. "Oh, Mr. Blank, you're the very man I'm looking for. You must take at least ten chances in the drawing for the crazy quilt It's only twenty-five cents a chance, and—" "Oh, Mr. Blank, you must give me fifteen cents and then guess how many beans there are in this jar, and if you guess—" "There, Mr. Blank, isn't that a love¬ ly little bouquotte in your buttonhole? A dollar, please." "Aha, I've found you at last, Mr. Blank! We're voting an afghan to the prettiest young lady here, and you must put in at least twenty-five votes for Miss Brassy. It's only ten cents a vote, and—" "Ah, Mr. Blank, I just know you want this smoking cap and jacket They're only twenty-nine dollars, and—" "Now, Mr. Blank, you're not going by mj^ table without buying something! Here's the very pen-wiper you desire, and it's only a dollar. There it is all done up nicely for you. What's this— a five dollar bill? Aha, you foolish man! We never give any change at<Ats table. Ha, ha, ha!" "Oh, but you must buy this cigar case, Mr. Blank, I won't let you say no. Here it is: There! Pve slipped it in your overcoat pocket. Four dollars, pleasa" "Oh, you bad, naughty man to try to jfo by my table when I've the very pair of slippers you've been longing for all these years. You're ever and ever so wicked! Walt until I do the slippers up in this lovely tissue paper, and —" "Oh, Mr. Blank, have you seen Re¬ becca at the well, and the gypsy fort¬ une-teller? Come, and I'll take you to them, and —^" "Stop, stop, Mr. Blank, not a step further until you've paid your quarter for a chance in the grab-bag!" "Why, Mr. Blank, I'm so glad I ran across you. I want you to take six of the loveliest old ladies down stairs and get the oysters and ice-cream. Oh, you shan't say no; I jest won't let yoti!" When Blank finally escapes by sneak¬ ing down cellar and out through the furnace-room he walks three miles to his boarding-place, because he hasn't a car fare left out o{ the fifty dollars he left home with.—Drake's Magazina EYES OF MUMMIES. The People of Peru Have Them Sat and Wear Them as Ornaments. A man called at the Philadelphia Inquirer office the other day with a handful of what looked like dull red¬ dish golden eye-balls. They were of various sizes. "Do you know what these are?" said he. "You will never guess, nor do I believe there are many persons who can tell you. They are taken from the mummies of the Incus of Peru. When I was stationed out there some years ago, when in the naval service, I got a whole lot of them. The mummies were thrown up and in some eases destroyed by seismic convulsions. There are thousands of them about, particularly near Arequipa. These that I show you are taken from the skulls, and are believed to be the real eyes of the Incas, and are respected as such. The women wear them made up into necklaces, scarf-pins, and other articles of jew¬ elry. As a matter of fact, however, they are really the eyes of the octopus or devil fish. They are thoroughly dessiccated, or rather mummified, by the air, and were put in ages ago to take the place of the natural eyes, which the aborigines found would not last in that climate. In having them set as a piece of jewelry you must be very cautious. The workman in trim¬ ming them down must beware of get¬ ting any of the dust in any cut he may hava If he doee so blood poisoning is sure to set in and the termination may very likely be fatal. "By the way," continued the ex- naval officer, "I'll tell you a queer thing tbftt happened down there. I have no doubt you recollect the great tidal wave of about twenty years ago. The United States storeship Fredonia was sunk and the man-of-war Wateree lifted bodily and deposited several milee inland, crossing a railroad in its flight When it was proposed to get her to the beach again the natives wanted such an exorbitant sum for cutting^ out about the railroad that the scheme was abandoned. Some time afterward another earthquake took place which lifted the Wateree bodily, carried her back over the railroad tracks, and deposited her on the l^ach. It W8« found, however, that her condi¬ tion was such that it would not pay to do any thing with her, so she was left to rot and be broken up by the inhab¬ itants." j—An agricultural exchange says the best sugar beets are grown in sandy solL We thought so; that accounts for the sand in the sugar, and here we have been unjustly accusing the honest grocer. We take it all back, and will go right on paying thirteen cents a pound for bar sand without a murmur. •—Burdette. —"Charlie stayed pretty late last night, didn't he Lil?" asked sister Kate the next morning. "Yes," said Lil, sleepily. "We were trying the pigs in clover puzzle till nearly eleven o'clock." "And did you get the pigs in the pen, Lil?" asked Kate, eagerly. "No, we didn't; but I got my finger in his solitaire diamond ring."—Somer¬ ville Journal. '2Si- '¦ >'*??f?ps''<^;i^^^:*^ V- ¦ COMPARATIVE WORTH or BAKING POWDERS, ROTAL (Absolutely Pure). GRANT'S (Alum Powder)* .' BUMFOBD's, ^hea t^.. wa^^s^^SBSsm, HANFORD'S, when frash.. REDHEAD'S ^SSSlSi^^^^SSm CHARM (Aliun Powder)«.. AMAZON (Alum Powder) *. P5HH03SF5?! CIiEYELAND'S(sUort^tjc«.: PIONEER (SanFrancisco)... WSS^^^ CZAR iMnii|||||i||iM|tiiiiii^«a»i ^ DB. PRICE'S SNO"W FLAKE (Groff'e), LEWIS' PEARL (Andrews A C!o.)... BECKER'S GILLET'S ANDREWSACO-^Regal" MUwkukee, (Conuius Alum.) BULK (Powder eold looae).... | BUMFORD'S,whennot fresh | REFOBTS OF GOVERNMENT CHEMISTS As to Purity and Wholesomeness of the Royal Baking Poirder, *'I have tested a package of Roval Baking Powder, which I purchased in tha open market, and find it composed or pure and wholesome ingredients. It is a cream of tartar powder of a high degree of merit, and does not contain either alum or phosphates, or other Injtuioua substances. E. G. Lovb, Ph.D." *< It is a sclentiflo fact that the Royal Baking Powder is absolutely pore. " H. A. MoTT, Ph.D.'» " I have examined a package of Royal Baking Powder, purchased by myself in the market. I find it entirely free from alum, terra alba, or any other injarloas anb* •tance. Hb»bt Mobton, Ph D., Prcaident of Stevens Institute of Technology.'* •' I have analyzed a package of Royal Baking Powder. The materials of which It Is composed are pure and wholesome. S. Daxa Hatss, State Assayer, Mass," The Royal Baking Powder receired the highest award over all competitors at the Vienna World's Exposition, 1873 ; at the Centennial, Philadelphia, 1876 ; at tho American Institute, New York, and at State Pairs throughout the country. No other article of human food has ever received such high, emphatic, and uni¬ versal endorsement from eminent chemists, physicians, scientists, aud Boards ot Health all over the world. NoTB—The above Diagram illustrates the comparative worth of various Baking Powders, as shown by Chemk«l Analysis and experiments m«de by Prof. Schedler. A pound can of each powder was taken, the total leavening power or volume in each can calculated, the result being as indicated. This practical test for worth by Prof. Schedler only proves what every observant consumer of the Royal Baking Powder knows by practical experience, that, while it costs a few cents per pound more than ordinary kinds, it is far more economical, and, besides, affords the advan¬ tage of better work. A single trial of the Royal Baking Powder will convince aqy fair-minded person of these facts. * While the diagram shows some of the alum powders to be of a higher dee^ree of strength than other powders ranked below them, it is not to be tak?n as indicat¬ ing that they have any value. All alum powders, uo matter how high their strengtb, are to be avoided as droigerous. _ Mr. Blaine's Diplomacy. The ice cream season is at band. White dresses and ice-creaiA, go together as certainly hs white horses and red-head¬ ed girls. There is a story which has been a state secret for lo these many years. When Jas. G, Blaine was Speaker of the Maine Legislature, away back in the fif¬ ties, he gave a reception one winter even¬ ing to the whole body. They all came, aud every one was made cordially at home by the man who even then possessed that subtle influence which won men's minds as well as men's allegiance. A fine collation was set forth and heartily enyoyed bythe members, many of whom for the first time tasted the re¬ fined product of the caterer's art. One old fellow from Millichimuckemuck, or Aroostook, or Kennebecasis, or Sabaltus;, certainly distinguished himself. Oyster patties aud chicken croquettes, cold meats and lobster salades disappeared in his di¬ rection ; cream meringues and charlotte russe, deviled crabs and salted almonds fled at his approach. He got hold of a pickled oliye and made a wry face as he slipped it under the table. Finally he struck a plate of ice cream. A huge spoonful gravitated toward tbe gap in his countenance and disappeared within. A look of pained surprise shot across his face. He didnt know whether he was be¬ ing burned or frozen. Tears came into his eyes as his Adam's apple came up and let the chilly morsel pass. He set the dish down and then picked it up again. Looking around he saw speaker Blaine surrounded by a group of ladies and gen¬ tleman. He sidled up and watclied his opportuniiy. "I don't s'pose ye know,'- said he ap¬ ologetically, "but l kinder thortl ore tew tell ye, Mr. Blaine. It's tew bad this 'ere pudd'n' 's froze." Now who but the Pine Tree statesman would have had tlie infiuite tact aud innate courtesy to taste the ice cream cri¬ tically and say: "So it is. That is strange ;" and then go ofif and come back In a minute with the remark : "• It's all right, Mr. Ruggles. It is a new fangled fixing that they freeze on purpose."— Washington Post. C ^OBJiWAl-A. & LEBA-NON KATLROAD. The proprietor and manager of a news¬ paper in Denver, Colorado, have been fined for contempt ()f court, thecontempt consisting in tbe publication of a criticism to which the Court objected, but an ap¬ peal has been taken, aud it will be sur¬ prising if the payment of the fine is en¬ forced. The power of a judge to visit upon an offender summary punishment for ''contempt" is very limited, and rightly so. It extends only to cMses where the contempt has been committed in open court, or where a judicial wrii or process has been defied. The adverse criticism of a newspaper does uot come and ought uot to come within its scope. Tliat point was raised in tliis State some years ajjo, and was judicially decided iu favor of the paper, and we cannot doubt that wher¬ ever it may be raised in a free country it will be decided in the same way. The fieedom of the press, so importaut to the maintenance of Republican institutions, would be gravely restricted if criticisms of judicial actiou were punishable as con¬ tempt. SHOUT ROUTE FOR LANO-VSTElt AND AL POlNT^j EAST. Arrangement ot Passenger Trains. On and after Mondav. May 13. 1889, pa.ssen- ger trains on the Cornwall & Lebanon railroad will ruu as follows : .southwahi). A. A. V. p. 6.25 lO.l.T ll.;!0 -2.00 «.»; 10.-2A 11.4i 2.1-' 7.0.-) 1()..5.") 1-2.1.') -2.15 NOKTinVAKI*. .\. P. J'. P. 7.30 11.05 l-2.i'> 3.10 8.08 11. K) 1.00 3.45 S.20 11.50 1.10 S.-in j^T" Time citrd.s and lull information oan be obained at the Marietta P. U. K. ticket offlce. NKD IKISH, f^uot. Lebanon, Cornwall. Cone w ai'o. Co)H!wasro, Cornwall, Lebanon, P. 3 15 3 -'7 4.tJ<l P. 4.10 4.4.-. 4.5.1 P, 7.10 7.20 7.55 P. It.io !>.15 ^XJ. ^RXitm BH'^^ TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION 11-50 a vear. Discountallowed when payment Is inadf! Inside of 30 anil !t0 days after .subscrib¬ ing. Wlien three months have expired afler 8ub8cribiut;, $1.50 will invariably be charged. SIMiLE COPIES Three Cents Xo papei will be discontinued until all arrear¬ ages are paid, unless at the option of the Pub¬ lisher. Communications to secure attention, must be accompanied by the writers real name—not for publication, out .as a safeguard against imposi¬ tion. KATES OF ADVERTISING given upon ap¬ plication to this office, by letter or In person, for tliat which i.s not given below. Advertisements not Under contract, must be marked the length of time desired, orthty will be continued and charged for until orderea out Local Notices, or advertisements In reading matter. 10 ct.s. per line for first, and 5 cts. pel line tor every subsequent Insertion. J,egal Notices will be chargeil at the rate o TEN CENTS per line for the flr?t Insertion, and FIVE CKNTS for every subsequent insertiou, un¬ less special rates are contracttd for. Advts. from abroad, cash in a<lvance. Objectionable Advertisements excluded. Transient rates will be charged for all matter not relating strictly to their business. All Advertising will be considered CASH after the first insertion. WEN P. BRICKEK, o ATTORNEY & SOLICITOR, Opposite COURT HOUSE LANCA.STER. PA Collections a specialty at agency rates In as parts. Prompt returns. Pension increase etc., procured. TOHN P. LIBHART, SURGEON DENTIST, MARIETTA, TA. Teeth extracted without pain by the use of Ni¬ trous Oxide Gas. OFKICJE.—Market Street, directly opposite Miller & Co.'s hardware store. Mar. 6. 86tf. O S. P. LYTLE, Jr., SURGEON DENTIST, MOUNT JOY, LANCASTER Co., Ta., EAST MAIN STREET. Office.—Nearly oppofite Breneman, Lonee- necKcr. & Co.'s Store. $»¦ Teeth extracted without Pain bu the use at "NITROUS OXIDE GAS." . "1^ D. iiOATH, Jnstice of the Peace and Conveyancer OFFICE-In Central Hall Building, MARIETTA, PA. X J. McNlCUOLL, FASHIONABLE TAILOR! 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William Dean Ilowells. ami ChurU-s Dudley Warner. HARPER'S PERiODiCALS. I'KU VEAU. IIauper's Magazine ^i qo Hakpku\s Weekly 4 qq nAUPEu''s Bazar 4 ,^ Hakpeu's Young People o 00 PoFtAge rr«e to all Sul)»cril>erK in tbe DnI States, Canuda or Mexico. The Volumes of the Magazine commence i^ith the Numbers tor June and December of eac^vwir JJuh^.h^ l•™^" «P««*«e'l''*«»'8criptions wi» berio wuh^lhe Number current at the Ume 01 receiiTof Bound Volumes ot Harper's Magazine, forthre* sears back, lu neat cloth binding, will he sent bv mad, postpaid.on receipt of S:{ per volume. Cloth Cases.foi- binding,M centse.-ieh-bymHil, postpaid. In.lex to Haupkk's M.xgazikk, Alphabefirjil Analytical, and Classified, f<,r Volumes I to 7o! inclusively, from June, l850, to June, ISSO, one vol., «vo. Cloth, 84.W. Koniittances should be made hy Post-Office Mo¬ ney Order or Draft, to avoid chance ol loss. Newspapers are not to copy this ndvertiscment without Ihe express order of H \ri-kk A ItHoi hkrj*. Address HAKPKK 4 CKOTllKUS. Xow Vork ^>I NO BICVCLE and .|> place no order be¬ fore \ou see the Aineri- V \ M/i///yv *^"" ''''^'" •^y' the most ^¦y\M///SA practical roadster and Mie easiest-running Nvheel in the world Large catalog ol A nieri- ean Cycles and -id hand ^y list and sundries free. Rciairs. Adclress or call on J. G. ZOOK,Li¬ titz, Pa. t. I i:i-V'. Aijeiu for ^uiiuta. .Jan. '00. Hi
Object Description
Title | Marietta register |
Subject | Newspapers Pennsylvania Lancaster County Marietta ; Newspapers Pennsylvania Marietta. |
Description | A paper from the small community of Marietta, Pa., which was famous for religious tolerance and abolition advocacy. Issues from January 06, 1883-December 27, 1890. Run may have a few issues missing. |
Place of Publication | Marietta, Pa. |
Contributors | Percy P. Schock |
Date | 1889-08-17 |
Location Covered | Marietta, Pa. ; Lancaster County (Pa.) |
Time Period Covered | Full run coverage - Unknown. State Library of Pennsylvania holds Jan.06, 1883-Dec.27, 1890. |
Type | text |
Digital Format | image/jp2 |
Source | Marietta Pa. 18??-1??? |
Language | eng |
Rights | https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/ |
Contact | For information on source and images, contact the State Library of Pennsylvania, Digital Rights Office, Forum Bldg., 607 South Dr, Harrisburg, PA 17120-0600. Phone: (717) 783-5969 |
Contributing Institution | State Library of Pennsylvania |
Sponsorship | This Digital Object is provided in a collection that is included in POWER Library: Pennsylvania Photos and Documents, which is funded by the Office of Commonwealth Libraries of Pennsylvania/Pennsylvania Department of Education. |
Description
Title | Page 1 |
Rights | https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/ |
Contact | For information on source and images, contact the State Library of Pennsylvania, Digital Rights Office, Forum Bldg., 607 South Dr, Harrisburg, PA 17120-0600. Phone: (717) 783-5969 |
Contributing Institution | State Library of Pennsylvania |
Sponsorship | This Digital Object is provided in a collection that is included in POWER Library: Pennsylvania Photos and Documents, which is funded by the Office of Commonwealth Libraries of Pennsylvania/Pennsylvania Department of Education. |
Full Text |
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-^^
PERCY P. SCHOCK,
Editor and Proprietor.
An Independent Family Journal, Devoted to News, Literature, Agriculture, and General Intelligence.
TEPJIS-SI.SO PER ANNUM
I)ISCOL>.T IOR TKErAYJlItNT.
Established in 1854
MARIETTA, PA., SATURDAY, AUGUST 17, 1889.
Vol. XXXVI, No. 3
VACATION SONQ.
IhaTV closed my books and hidden mv slatfl^ And I threw my saciiel across the g«te. My school is out for a season of rest And now for the school-room I love the bestl
My school-room lies on the meadow wide. Where under the clover the sunbeams hide; Where the long vines cling to the mossy ban. And the daisies twinlile lllce fallen stars.
Where clusters of buttercups gild the scene, Liiks showers of gold-dust thrown over tha
green, And the wind's flying footsteps are traced, m
thoy pass, By tbe dance of tbe sorrel and dip of the grasa
My lessons are written in clouds and trees, And no one whispers, except the breeze. Who sometimes blows, from a secret place, A8tra.v, sweet blossom against my faco.
My school-bell rings in the rlpplinff stream, "Which hides Itself, like a school-boy's dream. Under a shadow and out of sight, But laughing still for its own delight
My schoolmates there are the birds and beei, And the saucy squirrel, less wise than tbes^ Kor lie only learas In all tho weeks. )low man} chestnuts will fill bis cheeks. '
My teacher is patient, and nevor yet A lesson of hers did I onco forget; v
For wonderful love do her lips impart. And all her lessons are learned by bear.
O come! O come I or we shall be late. And autumn will fasten the golden gate. Of all the school-rooms in east or west, ' The school of nature I love the best. ^
—Pansy.
FORTUNE'S FEEAKa
strange Manner in Which a Lost L Oompetenoa Was Beg^ained.
I was sitting in my study, my head propped .upon my hand, tvonderiag if the time had come when I must actu41« ly be a bread-and-butter writer; so far 1 had never vrrltten without being sure I had something to say, but now we had had potatoes for dinner without any embelllahments for throo days, things wore becoming grave, j'et the public were always demanding humor¬ ous articles. As I sat there, two or three plots camo to my mind, those I bad laid aside for future use, but I couldn't fix them up. I smiled de¬ risively; how often had I said to younger writers: "Never give way to moods or wait for inspiration; if you mako authorship your lifework, attend to it as to any other business; force yourBclf to the routine of working at it every day like any other bread-and- butter affair." Of course I had thrown in gratis, advise about talent, artistic feeling and training—my common sense for others was a good enough affair, but it did not work just now for me.
I looked over at my vacant safe in the corner; not three years ago it had contained silver, jewelry and bills, not to mention some bonds, the interest of which might see us comfortably through Ufa Now, It stood a satire on our pov- »rty with its iron-bound sides aud empty vault
There was a knock at my study door. "Just a minute, (uorge." said my wife on the othor side. She poked her bright, curly head in. "Oh, i jii:?t want to toll you; I know I ought nottouttomiit; but Sally has been telling me about her sis¬ ter Eliza, aud it would be such a good plot dear."
"Come in and tell it Sue, I am just at my wits end."
"Oh! I cau't You must hear Sally." My sweet little helpmeet seated herself on the edge of a chair, and said:
"You know how \ love to hear Sally talk in her soft, negro voice, and aa »he was clearing the table I expressed my surprise at her having paid |26 for fi seal plush wrap."
• 'Well, Miss Sue," said she, fixing her large eyes upon me and grasping the silver spoons and forks in ono hand, 'its the first thing new I've bought for myself in over three years, ceptln' workin' dresses like this. Don't you think I deserved it?'
"She is so pretty, so plump, with such BOft, wavy hair; her eyes are beautiful, Qeorge, and her teeth so White." " 'How is that Sally?' " 'I had to use it for my family. Miss Sue; you soo they needed it Liza waa «lck a long time, then my father died, an' what with one thing an' other, the fSOO I'd put in the bauk all went; then I had to go In debt to Miss Jarvis, an' until I come up hero I was hard at work all the time to pay it off. I je»' got it paid 'fore I left Kentucky.'
" 'filt down and tell me about ElUa,' I said, for I thought at once, George, that the material might be good for you; besides, sho always spoke of Kilztt in such a tender way 1 wanted to hear about her.
•* 'You would have liked Liza, Miss Buo. Poor Liza!' She caught her breath, and the tears filled her dark eyes. 'Liza was younger than me, she was jes' full of life aa' singln' all the tima We us'd to love to get her at our Ironin' table; she us'd to work 'long side o' me. Why. Miss Sue, her face was jes' like a mornln'-glory. Every one us'd to be in good spirits when Liza u'd como slngin' through the yard an' poke her laughlu' face 4n the winder at us, 'fore she^-oame round to the door—but my! how sick she'd beea You wouldn't never thought it to seen her them'
" 'Was she prettier than you, Sally P* I didn't mind asking a bit for every one thought Sally the prettiest mulatto In town.
••She looked at the spoons and forks, and answered, bashfully: '1 was ugly aide o' Liza.'
" 'How old was Liza?' " "Liza was ouly eighteen then; 'twas after she was married."
"'Yo'adont mean she was married then?'
" "Yes, ma'am she was. We'd all known Joe since he waa a baby; we'd seen raised together. A rich woman adopted him—ric^ for colored
folks, I mean. She had a greenhouse, and a right smart sum of money in the bank. When Joe come foolin' 'round L^a I didn't want her to have nothin'
to do with him, 'cause we all knowed he was fast be' lived too high. He was handsome, an' Liza was young; an' you know how 'tis. Miss Sue, you might as well talk to the wind,ias to a girl that thinks she's in love. Miss Jarvis, that's Joe's aunt who'd adopted him, she gave them a big wedding. All the first col¬ ored folks in Bedvllle came, an' arter- wards Liza and Joe went off for a trip an' came back in a few weeks to live in Redville. While they was on their wedding trip I went to work In Louis¬ ville. My sister Annie was married an' lived there. One day when I went in to see her she looked that scared, and had a letter tucked in her dress. I be¬ gan to talk 'bout Liza, but she wouldn't teJk about her nohow; an' so I says: "Where's that letter from, you jes' now hid In your dress?" After awhile she gave it to me, an' O Miss Sue, it would 'a* broke your heart to read that letter. Seems like Liza never could 'a' wrote it
'"She'd been married over a year then. She wouldn't write to me 'cause I'd been so down on hef marryin' Joe. Miss Sue, Liza wrote that letter a-lyin' on the fioor. Joe had sold the bed from under her. There wasn't a thing in tho house to eat Every stitch of the clothin' but the rags Liza wore, he had Bold. She'd burled her littte three- weeks-old baby tha day before. She was just dyin'.*
"Sally gulped down a soU and tbe tears welled over ber lids and down her cheeks.
•• 'If you could 'a' seen her when I got there! I wouldn't have known her, an' she jes' turned her pitiful eye» to me an' says: "Sally, you ain't mad at me, is you?" I jes' took her in my arms and cried over her. She was so thin you could see the bones comin' through. There she lay in her rags, with the cold wind stirriu' along tho floor, and not a morsel' of food had passed her lips for over two days.
" 'Joe come In by and by half drunk, but he was sober enough to know what I said to him. I was that angry I felt like a giant an' wasn't afraid of him an' didn't care what I said- But Liza, ehe stroked his hand an' said, "Poor follow!" an' that made me so mad I nearly left her. I can't understand how it was. I think Liza must have been clear craay, but she said she loved hira arf wouldn't hear me scold bim. Bhe wouldn't leave him nohow, bo I fixed her up and went back to Louis¬ ville. My, how my heart ached for Liza! poor, foolish child. By an' by came a pitiful letter, but I wouldn't do nothin' till she'd promise never to see Joe again. I went an' brought her home to Mrs. Southworth, where I was workin'. I made her write it down that she'd never see Joe again, 'fore I'd take her back with me. He had done something dreadful, I reckon, else she wouldn't 'a' promised.
"'He didn't even come to bid her good-by. I found her starvln' and even thinner than before, an' so I brought her home. She cheered up wonderful. She said she meant never to nfake me feel bad that I'd brought her home. Miss Southworth hired her, when she was well enough to work a little, an' so we both was In the same home. Miss Southworth made a fuss over Liza; she wanted her with her all the timo, but Liza liked to lie longsido o' me in the Ironin' room. She was so smllln' and happy you'd never havo thought she'd know what sorrow was, but when she thought I was not looking I'd see such a sad, wistful look in her eyes. She had an awful cough, an' once the doctor told me Liza would never be well.
" *We found hor lyin' on the floor ono day, with her eyes closed. There was a bit of paper near her. She'd tried to crawl to the stove and couldn't so sho'd tore the letter up In little bits. We couldn't make out a word, but we knowed Joe wrote It
" 'After that she never seemed to get well. We took her to my sister Annie, and she would lie In a stupor-like for days, but wheu she opened her eyes she was always askln' for njo. Soems like she wouldn't let me out of her eight She'd want me to be beside her ftu' she'd put her arms around my neck and draw my face olo.se to her's and say: "You ain't mad at me, Sally, no more. Is you? I've kept my prom- Ue.'"
"The great tears brimmed over Sally's eyes and she went on: 'I couldn't leave her no longer, so I told Miss Southworth, an' then I went to stay at Anne's, an' took care of Liza. Oh, but she was beautiful. Miss Sue, her cheeks was pink an' her eyes so bright Some days she used to be well enough to bo dressed, an' she'd set by the window and look out as though she was holdln' her breath to listen, but sbe kept her promise an' neyer men¬ tioned Joe's name. She seemed 00 sad It almost broke my heart and one day I says: "Liza, do you want to see Joe?"
" 'Such a look as came into her eyes! an' she smiled like her old self, an' then the wistful look came back an' she answered, so low I could scarcely hear her: ' 'You told me I must never speak his name."
" 'The sobs jes' shook me, an' I kiss¬ ed hor and said: "You shell see him, Liza, I will send for him." But she caught my hand an' says: "Not now, Sally; not no^v. Not till I am dying. I thought may be he htid boon here."
" 'An oh, how I wished he had, when I saw the look In her eyes. I'd give my life to have had him care enough to
ask how she was; but I had to shake my head.
" 'That night we sent telegrams over the country for him. Liza knew next morn' she was dying. Then she told me 'bout the letters she'd got from Joe, all 'bout a robbery, an'where he'd stowed the things, but she said she dared not tell me, because ehe*d promised never to mention his name. She wanted to Boe him. Sho said he was afraid to use the things for fear of bein' caught, an' all this time Liza had been mournln' over it an' waitin' to write him to give them to her; she'd take them back and bear the punishment
" 'We told hor we'd sent for him to come; but she died that mornin' with the listenin' look on her face, and that day we read in the papers that Joe had been arrested for the robbery, but that he got away from the officers; but they fired at him and shot him dead.'
"There," said my wife, "I've told^ you the story, and did not mean ta xou must hoar Sally tell it"
I was filled with excitement; there was something more than that story in what my wife had been relating. She had been so interested In hearing of Liza, that she had not noticed some peculiar facts connecting it very close¬ ly with our own life.
"Would you mind asking Sally to come in here to me?' I asked.
"Be careful in questioning her, dear, or you may not get what you wish. I am so glad it will do, George, but be sure and show sympathy for her, else you can uot get her to tell it in a nat¬ ural way."
"Dear me. Sue!" I burfet forth. "I can not contain myself; doi^ you see. any connection between that story and our loss?" I pointed to my empty safe. "Can't you remember when we lived in Orange and was not so poor? Can't you remember a colored coach¬ man by the name of Joe Ramsay, whose mother kept a greenhouse—"
"Mercy!"' cried Sue, jumping up. "I never thought of It! You don't think that was Liza's husband?" "I certainly do."
"Well, but Sally knows nothing about it?"
"But we may get some clew to these bonds and—"
"I will call her," and away flew my wife.
The pretty mulatto, with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, came Into the room. My wife with subdued excite¬ ment stood beside her.
"Mrs. Kercheval has been telling me of your sister Eliza and of her husband Joe Ramsay." I pronounced the name boldly, but Sally seemed not to notice it and answered: _^ ,
"Yes, sir." \ "'
My wife nodded excitedly. ' "Did any one ever know where the bonds wepp that he stole?" I asked quietly.
Sally took a step forward, her eyes wide with astonishment "You know about thom, then? Sir! Oh! do you know who lost them?"
"Joe Ramsay was my coachman. We lived In Orange at the time. He w as- arrested for robbery, but was shot while trying to escapa No one knew IVhat he |
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