Newspapers / The Lincoln Courier [1883-189?] … / March 22, 1889, edition 1 / Page 1
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mfiSV fl III W Vol e uncolnton, n. c, Friday, march 22, isso. NO. 45 I1 1 ,11 I II II I 111 BY JOHN E. BARRETT. tOOPTRIOHTBD ltS. BY COLMMCS "OVCE A WKSK." "ALL KKJHTS KKiEhVUl." PUB LISHED BY SPECIAL AKRANGKMKNT WITH THE PKOPRIKTOH Ui" "ONCK A ViKKK." Alice knew precisely the point at which Uo yieM to tu, general request, and takiu? up her inaudoliu, which happened to be close at hand, she sang the following .Bacchanalian ballad, in a low sweet voice, to a witching accompaniment: AT PLEASURE'S SIIRINE. Let others walk the thorny path And drin the bi;'er cup of life. Wtl'.e they view Datnfi Fortune's wratfc Auil Imi.r .ri tu Coriht .nt strife; But (i!t oka ;i iiuth of n.ce, Aulowiriti :u.) ( (f ilJtu wine, I care out when this I'f j shall cease- I'll lire ana die a: i'lriiures shrine At f lesisure s sunuy slirtn. Why lead a Ufa of pain and woo, Wbjr wrinkle brow aud check with ear. Wby link In sorrow's undertow, When all the world -it btttfiit und fair? Let otturs, if they will, be iud. But I will never more repine. Tot Nature bids the heart be glad. And I wiU live at Pleasure' shrine At Pleasure's funny shrine. . The gentlemen expressed their delight with Alice's song, and her sinking of it, hi extravagant term; That they were evi dently impressed with the sentiment, waa een in the heartv manner in which they quaffed the wine while they "toasted" the fair singer. Then the game was resumed. Clarence Carson -was eager to have Alice remain and take a hand, and her presence was so agreeable to all the others, that they united in the request. Alice was no novice at the game. Her mind was clear, her nerves steady, and he felt that the great moment had come which Dick and herself had so often dis cussed. Dick was sober. Ha always managed to keep in that condition when superintending his club-room, and his keen eye darted a swift glance at Alice, who tat at the table as demure as a boarding-school girl. The game at first began rather tamely, but interest iu it increased as it progress ed. It is unnecessary to go into details, since It is the result that interests us. Suffice it, therefore, to pay that in a short time there was a sensation in the gamb-iLug-room, when Alioe Dawson "called" Clarence Carson with a hand worth tueUy thoutand ih'lart. Carson, who was warm with wine, had grown reckless, and more in a spirit of good-natured ban ter than anything else, ran up the stakes to the ruinous figures at which hji fair opponent firmly brought him to time. Ge was dazed. He scarcely knew what to 6ay or do; yet there was the inevitable staring him in the face, and, as he was a man of honor, he would meet it or die in the attempt. The ether members of the oompany looked in amazement at Alice, who smiled sweetly, aud simply said: " Fortune seems to favor me this time." " I haven't that much money with me, Miis Dawson," said Clarence Carbon, ris ing " but if you will excuse me for a few minutes I shall be back with the amount.'' ''Oh pertainly, Mr Carson," said Alice, graciously, and only too glad to know that Clarence didn't want to be trusted for a few days. The latter, taking up his overcoat and hat, hastened off, and after he left the room further interest tn the game sud denly collapsed. It seemed as if the club room had become a plague spot, and those who had been enjoyiug the oocar Kipn with to much zest but a short time before, were now anxious to leave the plajp But they were impelled by a ftranau fascination to remain aud see whether CaFson would return, according po pt ondse, and pay his debt. Time dragged heavily, and the conver sation had grown stilted. Every olje won dered whether Carson would come back, but no ono breathed a word of suspicion. Alice was anxious, but she showed no ex&itement, and tried to rally the party by her smiles and bright sayings. Dick appeared to be unconcerned, but after the lapse of about three-quarters of an hour he, too, began to think that Carson was a long time away. a t-he excitement of the time, Edith JJdwarda, who had been left in the 4ruged sleep in an adjoining room, waa forgotten. presently there was a sound of foot steps in the hallway, and the next mo ment Clarence Carson entered the place as pale as death, and trembling with fCOitemepf. "J ran to fast to get. here that I am out of breath," ho aid, trying to force a smile, but the effort to appear gay w a ghastly one. Then, with a show of pareless irdiffrenoe, Clarence Carson pulled a bundle or bill from Ms pogket and laid (hem on the table before Alioe. A Us did to noticed that hi hands were bloody, and he utteretj a little cream. The sight of the blood unnerred Carson himself, aud he speedily thrust his hant in his pocket, aud said to Alice: " Please count the money, and see that amount Is right." he began to turn over the large bills, many of which. wer of a demoninatton tucb. aj h tad sever 'seen beforp, and as the did she noticed with dismay that sons of them wera wet with blood-stains. $nas could it meanl ." Can It be possible," the thought, " that J played for a b-uman life?'' gu$ further contemplation wm cu sfcort, by the sudden appearance ol JSdith ard, lu the gilded gambling-room. She amo like an apparition, and was no 'ooner in the plac than a powerful voice v-ts lieard from without, calling, Edith! iMith ! S'ak. Where are you?" Th.i voice ruu:r out with clarion clear oosson t tin til I nilit, and struck Dick Dawson and Alio with dismay. Theii consternation vm increased when Edith, starting up from tho semi-stupor occa sioned by the drugged drink, answered with all her fuiht: " Here ! I am here ! " Dick Dawson grew desperate, and wat about to rush at Edith, for the purpose of silencing her by force, when she spared him that trouble by falling in a dead faint The great exertion she had just put forth, tun glare of the gambling room; and the joyous thought of being liberated from a place which hud become so detestable, were too much for her sur charged heart, and all her senses col lapsed at the very momeut when she had most need of them. CHAPTER VII. A CLOW IN l&E VAAi. yiiiilllii'i'MnV HIUP Cabbos alwayi tf.r.r1 ""' ' lltfN paid his workmen ic cash. This was one of the most rigid rules of his great es tablishment, aud he gave the matter his ersonal supervis ion. In his youngei days, before he grew so rich and prosperous, he made it a point to pay hie men with his owx hands, and the habit thus formed bad clung to him. It was now a physical impossibility for him to pay all the met himself, but it was a feature of the busi ness to which he .gave close attention, and from which he derived great pleas ure. Mr. Carson always looked forward with keen Interest to the monthly pay-day al the mill. He was a man of dignified re serve, who rarely pave vent to his feel ings, but those v ho knew him best ap predated his kindness of heart and Bin cerity of purpose. He shared in th satisfaction which his workmen felt on Ira wing their pay, and delighted in picturing to himself the happiness which the well earned monthly recompense would bring into the humble homes of the hardy tollers. He was happiest when his men were contented, and his intimate friends often heard him say: " I would rather have one hundred men who are satisfied with their pay and positions, than five hundred malcontents; and the best way to make them happy, is to ascertain what they need, and make such reasonable concessions as they are entitled to." The day of the explosion at the Grims by Steel Mill was pay-day, and on the Jay previous, President Carson, a9 had been his custom for many years, drew enough money from the Grimsby bank to pay his great army of workmen. The disaster upset all his arrangements, how ever, and put off pay-day. Kb ono thought of wages when every home in the neighborhood of the dismantled steel mill was the scene of grief. After his disagreeable experience with his nephew aud with Noel Edwards, Mr. Philip Carsou repaired to his study for rest and reflection. He was deeply dis turbed by the sad occurrence of the morning at the mill, but not more so than by his strange encounter with Noel, and the grim story the blind man told him concerning Clarence. Mr. Carson sat a few minutes in front of his desk musing over the stirring events of the day and night. Then he suddenly thought of pay-day, and of the fact that he had placed the box contain ing the money for the men's wages in a small safe near his desk the evening pre vious. In obedience to some random im pulse, or possibly to lind occupation for his troubled mind, be went to the little safe, unlocked it, took out the cash-box, and was about to place it on his desk, when ho saw reflected in a mirror the shadow of a sinister face. The vision disappeared like a flash, but it gave Mr. Carson such a severe shook that he almost dropped the heavy cash box from bis grasp. What could it be ? Placing the box on the desk, Mr. Car- sQn speedily turned around and made a thorough search Qf the room. He looked out into the hallway, but could see no body, neither could he hear a sound, such as he might expect, of retreating footsteps. The face he saw reflected in the glass was a familiar ono, but there waa a look of infamy depicted in It that made the old man's heart throb quickly for a few seconds, and almost unnerved him. He was about to ring for one of the servants, when the musical tone of a sweetchlmed clock, whose note was soft, er than silence, diverted his attention for a moment, and, glancing up, he noticed that the hour was much later than he bad expected. "Pshaw I" he muttered: "I have never been a cgward, and it is too late in the day for me to begin to play tfcat char acter now." gaying this, he shut the room door gently, and returning to hi desk, took up the cash-box and proceeded to replape Jt U the safe, ust as be did o he waa struck a tremendous blow across the head, which almost stunned Wm; but be was a powerful man, and rallied instant- The box fell from his hand on the desk, and he turned to grapple with his assailant, and seized him by the throat. Quick as a flash, the robber etruok Mr. Carson another heavy blow, and he feU to the floor with a stifled moai). The most desperate of men stand ap palled tn the presenoe of a great crime QorqTTijfl by their own hands, and when Mr. Carson fell at the feet of the assassin, the latter was so horrified that b oroe ly knew yfh& $o&L next, Vf h i M VJ mail u a stood tlieru irresolute, he heard the bound of footsteps in the hallway, aud immediately turued off the gas that burned above the dek, leaving the? room in darkness, then retreated to a distant corner of the room, wondering what wuld happen, and fearing lest he might Imj disco vored, but ut the game time prepared to sell his life dearly Lu case of attack. The footsteps drew nearer, and the palpitating iurtian in the corner heard some ono open the door. Then a wo-. man's voice in a tone of half -suppressed alarm, uid: Father, father ! Are you here ? " It was the voice of Zeida t 'arson, who had been lying awake, thinking over the exciting scene whic h occurred earlier in the evening, and in the stillnes? of the night heard the struggle in her father's study, and wondered what it inUiit be. She pushed the door ol the study open, and was amazed to find the l oom in dark ness. She called her father repeatedly, in quick, nervous tones, but there was uo response, and then becoming awed over the loneliness of the place, she was about to return to her room, when a low moan sent a chill to her heart, and filled hei mind with a thousand fears. Her first impulse was to enter the room, but the dark, lonely, and mysteri ous situation caused her to shrink, and on second thought she resolved on rous ing her sisters and the servants, and bringing them to the scene. That pitiful moan Bounded like the wail of some lost spirit, and Zelda Car son almost fainted when she heard it, but she rallied all her strength, for she had a foreboding that it would be need ed before morning. Then 6he ran off to procure help. The assassin, who had been crouching In the corner, experienced a great sense of relief, as he heard her retreating foot steps hurrying along the hall, and when he thought she was gone a safe distance, i reasoned with himself, "Now is my time," and started to help himself to the cash-box which lay on the desk. The sweet-toned clock indicated that a quarter of an hour had passed since Philip Carson noted the time. Now the millionaire lay insensible to sound. How great is man's power of enjoyment; how trivial a thing it is that ends it all ! The assassin moved softly iu the direc tion of his plunder. He knew there must be a great amount of money in the cash box, and that if he could only get away with it he would be rich. This thouebt nerved him and gave wings to hia sou. Stealthily he groped his way to where the desk stood. He knew every nook and corner of the room as well in the dark as if it was day, because he had often been there before, but he did not quite realize the direction in which the body of his victim lay, and when he struck his foot against it, the contact sent a thrill of horror to his guilty heart. This fear was intensified ten-fold by the deliberate opening of the room door. The assassin moved as lightly as a cat, and quickly stepped back-to the corner he had Just left, and whei e, owing to a friendly book-ea9e, he would be partly concealed, even if the gas was lighted. It startled him to hear some one mov ing about the place. Then there was a pause of a few seconds, but no light, and presently the sound of footsteps in the room again. The robber was amazed. Could it be that Philip Carson, to whom he had given his quietus, had come back to life, or was it simply the effect of imagination. The door of the study made a creaking sound once more, and then some one passed out and moved quite rapidly down the hall. Now the robber was interested in know ing if Philip Carson still lay where he fell, a little to the right of the desk, and ho groped about for the body. This time its touch had no terrors for him, and he ex perienced a real relief on ascertaining that the millionaire was really dead. Just then there was a commotion in the ball, and the robber heard a woman's voice calling loudly: "Clarence, Clarence. There's some thing wrong in father's study. Com with us." The assassin waited to hear no more. He seized the cash-box, snatched it from the desk, and for a moment hesitated a to whether he should run the gauntlet of the hallway, and take the chances of es caping with his life and his plunder. ' Instantly a new idea occurred to him. There was the window ! To open it was but the work of a few seconds, and the thief was gone. He had gone but a few yards from the place, when the room was filled with light, and he heard the cry of horror which esoaped from Zelda's lips, as she beheld the prostrate body of her father. Now the assassin was in the shadow. He had left the window open, and he could hear distinctly what was said by the startled Zelda, her sister, and the ervants, "Oh, dear God, my poor father has been killed I" exclaimed Zelda, as she knelt beside the body. " Who could have done such a cruel deed to one who was so kind?" The servants looked at each other it) amazement and grief, tfcen the coach man sad: "Why didn't you top that man what run out as we came along the hallway?" "What man? "asked one of the women. " Why the man what run when Miss Zelda called. That's the villain who done this awful crime." "Hush," said the other, "That was Clar ence Carson." " Oh, heavens 1 my cousin I n cried Zelda, in despair. " It cannot be it cannot be," and the heart-broken girl covered her father's face with kisses. Meantime, Clarence Carson was run Ui with an hia might In the direction of Dick Dawson's gambling room, to pay his debt of twenty thousand dollars to the fascinating Alice Dawson. About midway he was hailed by an old acquaintance, Tom Ikert, his unole'a poiuldentlftlbook-keePr wh0 " Hello, Clarence I I have not seen you in a dog's age," and shook him effusively by the hand. Clarence Caron was evidently in an advanced stage of intoxication, but not so far gone that he did not know what he was diug. Ills face was white, and he was evidently laboring under some great excitement, which he struggled hard to control, but he made some kind of a forced answer to Tom Eokert's greeting. They had been boon companions upon many an occasion over a social glass, and had met frequently in an exciting game at Dick Dawson's gambling rooms. It was near a street lamp tliat they met now, and after shaking hands, Clar ence said: 'Why, confound it, Tom, your hands are wet!" then holding his own up to the light, he added "and bloody, too! Why, what can this mean, old fellow? Have you been in some rash and hazard ous enterprise ?" "Oh, come now, Clarence," answered Eckert. "It's your hands that are wet and bloody, and I can see you have stained mine. If any ciime has been committed in Grimsby to-night, it will be my duty to see that the police have hold of you in the morning," and Eckert laughed hoarsely. " Oh, fudge ! " replied Clarence, "I don't like such fun. Are you going over to Dick Dawson's ? " " I expect to do ao after a little while." " Well, excuse me, I am iu a bit of a hurry. I will see you later," and Clarence was gone. It did not take him long until he placed his lost lucre before Alice Dawson, who greeted him with one of her fascinat ing smiles. She was a beautiful woman, and he was a fool just then, so that for the time her sway over him was as abso lute as is that of the spider over the silly Hy that he has entrapped in his fatal web. The sight of the blood upon Clarence's hands, and upon some of the bills, gave Alice a slight start at first, but she speedi ly overcame the shock. Besides, there were other . matters of an exciting na ture her attention, when Edith Edwards, pale as death, and wild with delirium, ap peared iu the dazzling gambling room and fell in a dead faint as she heard Ned Newcomb calling her name from with out. When Ned Nedcomb failed to hud Edith In the wretched shanty whWe he had left her, he wondered what fate could have befallen her in short a space cf time, and vowed never to return to his awn home till he had f mud her again, ilive or dead. And so it was that he wandered about the neighborhood, culling her name at tntervals.Jand wondering why she did not answer him. In the br.cf space of time that he ha known her, his heart had gone out to hei he knew not how nor why, nor could Ik say whether It was pity or love tha prompted him to feel such u deep intei est in her. The great strong man spurned the coW of the chilling winter's night, as h moved about uneasily, scarce knowing what to do. or say, or think, to bring hei back, and many a time he thought lit could see her tranquil face, in fancy, at it appeared to him whAn she lay in th rushing flood, with her white forehead turned appealingly to God's glisteninj stars in heaven's deep dome of blue. CHAPTER VIII. THE MASKED MABBIAOE. DITH EDWARDS was speedily remov e d from t h e g a m b-ling-room by the ser vants, and placed in the apartment from which she had wan dered in her half- dazed condition. The incident of her weird appearance was soon forgotten lu the burst of revelry which followed Clarence Carson's pay. ment of his large gambling debt to Alice Dawson. The voice of Ned Newcomb was heard at intervals from without, calling the name of Edith, but it passed unheeded as the crazy cry of some demented or drunken person, who was offending the t-ilenee of he night with his wild aud meaningless ."ving. Edith was in i fever of excitement hi her eager desire to go home, and the ser. vauts reported the case to Dick Dawson, who called and told her that she would be removed to her house as soon as pos sible. Lest she might suspect the nature of the establishment, he told her that it was the Grimsby Hospital; that she waa placed there shortly after she was res cued from the river, and that he was the principal doctor, The poor girl's senses were so confused that she readily believed this man's plausible story. She remembered falling in the flood, but had no recollection ol her rescue, and she realized nothing whatever of the real nature of the trap into which a most unlucky accident had thrust her, go far as she could ascertain, She received nothing but kindness from these people, and she could not account for so much attention until Dick Dawson assured her it was the Grimsby Hospital. "And I can go home soou, doctor, to my dear father ? " she said, to Dick Daw. son. "Certainly; as soon as we consider it safe to do so," was the reply. Dawson left her with a servant, and proceeded to rejoin his guests. At the door he met Alice, who looked pale and frightened. "You look as if you had seen a ghost," he said, In a whisper; "you should wear tout brightest smile to-night." ' And I feel as if I had seeR one, Dick," she answered. "What strange notion could have en. tered your head ? " he asked. 'The money, Dick." "Yes, I know; wasn't it a good round pile? Did you detect any counterfeits iu it?" ,v "No! but worse than that, Dick! " " Why, what could it be r " "Blood ! There was blod ou the bills, Dick. I noticed it when young Carson handed me the amount; aud his hands were Moody also. I fear he must have committed soine great crime, and if he hus he will be traced here, and we chall 1m; di -covered and destroyed." " X nseiise, lass! What thoughts are there? You have not been drinking, I hope?" " Not I, indeed. But if you doubt me, come and see the money." Saying this, she led him to another room, where the amount of her wiuitiugn lay upon a table over which the as was burning. "See," she said, taking one of th blood stained notes iit her hand and holding it up before him. "Isn't that proof that I am l ight ? Aud look at the staiiu upon my fingers." Dick whs nonplussed. Ho saw at glance that Alice was not hiltoring under delusion, and he s. ar.-e knew what to say. Alice spoke first after they had looked carefully over the money. " I fear," she said, that this is the re suit of some great crime." Dick Dawson laughed, aud said with a sneer: "Well, snppo.se it is; what havn h'o to do with it? Didn't you win the money honestly? And why should you worry about things that don't concern ou ': "Because if this man has done a deed of blood ho will be traced here, lt-u't that enough to make one worry ? Do you suppose if he has taken auy one's life, in his eagerness to get this amount, that the authorities will not be aroused at once? And if this is done, who can tell what will follow ? We are not sab., Di. k, as long a he is here. Now, iiiuik me, our best course is to get lid of him at once." Hei- ca.il r, earnest manner had a sober ing effect on Dick Dawson who knew what it was to be hunted by the author ities, and he aid: " There's u goo 1 deal of truth iu what you say, A V:e, and I had not thought of that before. I'll try and make some pie text ffTr inducing our customers to go home curlier than usual to-night." With Dick I)aws(,n it was always "night" until nearly noon of the next day. "Alice," he added, " you take care of the beautiful factory-girl; see that she does not expose us by escaping ut this un seasonable h..ur, and I'll devote iny at tention to the premising Mr. Carson." Just then w ho should cine alon th narrow hallway but Clarence C.trsou His voice was thi k, ami his g.i:t rather unsteady. "I've been 1 i.iking for ;-ou, Di. k" he said, shipping D .wsou oil the shoulder. Alice disappear I. She had won a for tune from CLir.'o.ve, but she feared him because of the blood on the bills, and she did not bko to meet him ag.du kiee to face. " Well, Clarence, old man," said Dick in a careless tone of friendly familiarity, such as he always assumed when young Carson was in his cups, but at no other time, "what cau I do for you?" He feared that Clarence was about to ask him to return the money Alice had won from him, but in this he was mistaken. "Hang it all, Dick, ' said Carson, " I'm In trouble, and I want to dig out. I want to leave Grimsby on the first convenient train. I've money enough, but I don't want any of those drunken dogs in the gambling-room to know anything of my intention. I have committed a great crime to-night one that will make all Grimsby ring with excitement to-morrowand I must not remain here auy longer. What do you think I had best do?" " I should leave the country until the fctorru blew over," said Dick Dawson, promptly, anxious to have him out of the way. "I thought that was the right thing myself, but wanted your judgement. Yes, I'll go. But how, in the name of Lu cifer, Dick, " he added with a leer, "did you obtain possession of the modest beau ty for whom I incurred the knock-down. You must be a fascinating old sport." "What? You refer to the-factory-girl?" said Dick, adding. "Well, -yes, she's a beauty and no mistake, but she is here not by choice, or by design, but by mere accident, I assure you." Dick thought if Carson had been mixed up in a crime, he was certainly very lit tle concerned about it, and hardened is the boss gambler was, he diet not like to see a man so callous. "That's all very well for you to say, that the little beauty is here by accident; but you cannot get this particular chick en to believe such nonsense. No; people don't wander Into Dick Dawson's den by accident especially such unsophisticated creatures as this distrusting damsel. I tell you she is pretty, and no mistake, but hang me if I can understand why she took to an alligator like you, when she might have had me for a sweetheart without asking." " I tell you again, you are mistaken. The girl is here by accident, and I am aching for a good opportunity to send her home," said Dick Dawson, somewhat amazed over Carson's unworthy suspi cions. "Don't do it,'s said Clarence. "I saw her fall lu the river to-night, and to all intents and purposes she is drowned. If you don't care for the girl, I will make her my wife, and take her to Europe. I like her, and once on the other side, 111 be a good husband to her. Now what say you ? Is it a bargain ? " " You are crazy, man. Such a thing is not feasible." "But I tell you it Is, and I'll show you hpw. Come, let us step into this little room and have a quiet bottle," added Carson, "while I tell you a scheme." When they were seated at a small table, and the champagne was sparkling in the glasses before them, Carson seem ed to grow more infatuated than ever over feis proposition to make Edith hia wife and take her w ith him to Europ "I will pay ou well u help me out," he si id to lick Dawson, "mid, confound it, why do y,m hcitate? I mean no harm to the girl, and I II try to k- as gotl a husband to her as I would be to auy woman." "But how ean I help yoii?': asked Dick. "Just mention the matter to her. I know her name. It's Edith Edwards. She'. the daughter of a fellow named Edwards who was nearly killed iu our mill to-day, and who lalors under the hallucination that I caused the, accident. But let that pas. Go and talk to her. Tell her I want her for a wife, aud that she'll never regret going away with mo from Grimsby " Dick paused, revolving the absurd proiotitiou lu his mind. Carson, seeing bis hesitancy, said: "I'll give yc, a thousand dollars for this service, or if you don't want to do it, let ine see the girl myself. I'll wugcr that I will gH.iu her consent." Clarence Carson was in the condition of one who has imbibed freely, and thinks the most fantastic uggcslioUS per fectly logical. He could not see any good reason for Edith refusing w hat he considered a most generous offer ou his part, in fact a great condescension, the offer to make her hi wife. Dick Dawson, who had not drank so freely, saw the matter iu a different light, and kuew there would bo a terri ble scene in case Clarence carried out his wild idea. There was a thousand dollars in the scheme, however, and Dick was not the man to let go so good an opportunity to make so much money. He finally said to Carson: "No, it would not do to hue you spring this sudden offer on the girl. Let ine manage it. I'll accept your offer to seo you through for a thousand, aud you shall start out in the 4 30 train in the morning for New York." " Good !" exclaimed Carson, who clasp ed his benefactor by the hand, and poured another glass. ' But how are you to be married ? Who will perform the ceremony ? It will not do for you to run away with her unless you are married." " As to that," said Carsou, draining the contents of his latest glass of wine, "I think I see my way clear. I shall ask my friend, the judge, who is feeling a good deal happier than myself, to perform the ceremony." "Just the thing; but will he do it?" said Dick. " I have a most eloquent advocate iu my pocket," rejoined Carson, "and as it will assume the nature of u lawful fee for legitimate services performed, why should his Honor object? I think not. He will be captivated anyhow by the romance in the case, and I don't believe he will demur in the least. Now go and see the girl and find out if she will join me in this romantic adventure; then 1 11 see the judge." To be Continued. A Grave Mistake. Yes, 1 repeat it is a grave mia take, youuglaclies, to let men spend so roucb. money upon you in various ways. It cheapens you in exact proportion to what they pay for you. Very often tbey can't rflhrdit; and Dot frequently tbv don't wish to do it, and only yjpld to custom and what they suppose ( u expect from them. Girls could of en leani a lesson for themselves by noticiug how their brothers talk about the ex penses of escort duty. As tbey talk to you, go do yoor escorts speak of you. It -would be a wise and righteous measure if eociety girls would form leagues among themeelvp to inti fute a reform in tbee tbingn, and bring these wholesome pleasnrf s cf social intercourse witbin tbe Lonest reach of men wbose salniiea are small. Don't allow meo to give you x- pensive euppers ana f-xpcnsive flowera and the like. And as to more personal things, why a ene of delicacy and personal dignity oat to place impas-tble barriers between you and gift from men who are booed to you by tbe closest ties ot blood and friendship. How well I remember the instiuc tion of the best woman I ever knew, whose advice to ber daughter a: "Never take presents from men or allow them to spend money upon yon ; even when you are engaged, j limit your lover's gifts to flowers and l ooks. It is time eiip.ugh for handsome presents whf-n you are married; and if anything should interfere with yoor marriage, why, yon will be spared tbe mortification of having all sorts of things to seud back." The longer I live the sounder this advice becomes. Ah, in those days mothers were so care foi in the way they taught their daugb-? ten1, and trained a race of women who were fit to bo wives and moth ers and who learned no lessons whose ultimate sequence is. the d ivorce court ! Presbyterian Review. Xjo'm Appruheusloui Hill Ny was ItMituring In Penn. sylvani.i ; hort time ago willi Jame-H WhitcomU Riley. At one of hi jpKintcints Mr. Nye, so it la said, lelt very much deprasaod. It is a peculiarity of humorists to be melancholy at times, aud he waa iu this mood at the time. One of tha committee went back of tho scene to foe him, and the depressed hu morist welcomed him as a scene of unusual good sunshine. They nbook hands Nye earnestly, tbe committeeman decorously. "Mr. Nye," he said gravely, "you will find this an unusually healtby city." ''Ah ! ' said the humorist. "Yes, the death rate is only one a da' At thisjuncture Nye took.thecom mitteemau by the arm and hurriedly aked : "Is ho dead?" "Dead ! ejaculated the committee man. "Who dead T' "Why, the man for to-day," wan the grave reply. The committeeman stared with all his might into the immovable face of the lecturer. "Isn't there a clerk or register or coroner, or something like that, of whom you could find out whether a man for to-day has died ?" "Why, yes, I suppose so' slowly replied the committeeman. "Would you be so good, then, as to fiod out, and before I commence the lecture, if possible, wbether the man is dead ? If he is dead. I . am all right, for we are to leave the city early to-morrow morning; but if he is not dead, I cannot but feel uneasy about myself, as I am not well to night." Tbe kind-hearted committeeman hurried away to get the information . When Nyo aud Riley were in their room that night a bellboy told Nye that a gentleman wished to seo him. He went down into the par lor of the hotel and there met ti e committeeman. 4I am sorry to disturb you, Mr. Nye," he said, "but I could not find the information any earlier. It is all right. The death rate I spoke of was only an average, and a man died tbi morning." New York Evening World. WOIUHII The woman who dos not please is a false note in the harmony of nature. She may not have -youth or beauty or even manner; but she must have something in her voice or expression, or both, which it makes you feel better disposed to ward your race to look at or listen to. She knows that as well as we do j and her first question, after you havejbeen taklrg your soul into ber consciousness, is, Did I please T' A wom&n Dover forgets her sex. She would rather talk with a man than an angel any day. Womanly women are very kindly critics, ex cept to themselves, and now and then to their own sex. The ies there is of s.ex about a wman tbe more she is to be dreaded. But take a real woman at her best mo ment well-dressed enough to be pleased with herself, not so resplen dent as to be a show aud a sensar tion, with the varied outside influ ences that set vibrating tbe harmo nic notes of ber nature stirring in the air above ber, and what is so ciallife to compare with one of those vital interchanges of thought and feeling with ber tbat make an hour memorable t What can equal ber tact, her delh cacy, her subtlety of expression, her quickness to feel tbe changes of temperature, as the warm and cool currents of thoughts blow by tarns f At one moment she is microscopic- ally intellectual, critical, scrupoious in judgement as an analyst's bal ance j and the next as sympathetic as tbe open rose, that sweetens the wind from whatever quarter it finds its way to her bosom. . It is iu tbe hospitable soul of woman that a man forgets he is a stranger, and so becomes natural and trathfal, at the same time tbat he is mesmer-. ized by all those divine differences which make her a mystery and bes wilderment diver Wendell Holmes li
The Lincoln Courier [1883-189?] (Lincolnton, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
March 22, 1889, edition 1
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