Evening Star Newspaper, May 23, 1896, Page 16

___THE EVENING STAR (op: . by Bacheller, sobnson & Bacheller.) If you are a reader of the newspapers you saw the account they printed the «ther day in regarl to the murder of a young woman by Toog Parmalee, in the Yeishborhood of “Hatcher's Ford.” You couldn't have missed it. ‘The night editors hed it up as & great sensation, spread- it out under startling black head- > account said that two young ladies —sisters— Ww walking along the road, when they saw Toog Parmalee come out of the bushes witli a pistol in h’s hand. He had been courting one of them for two or th ears, and when she now saw him ng she turned and fled in the opposite direction, while the other sister, not know- ing what to think or how to act, stood in this way she probably saved her own life, for Toog passed her by in pur- suit e flying girl, who was overtaken and in cold blood. These harrowing details were spread out with great par- icularity ir the newspapers, and the ver- shot In This Way She Probably Saved Her Own Life. dict, made up by those who furnished the a was that Parmaiee was stark ziven in the account was td killed his sweetheart, have i made clear in n a column of reading for her's Ford is lement where the nt is knows Pru- Hatenh as Mrs. name of clearing on th and as for the vas in another part mistake, and now , Parmalee crazy? e's no need you to take the word outsider on that subject, but ake up your mind, go and as t isa cme journey, to is always worth the trouble truth. You may go to n Atlanta, b at Clarks- to hire a buggy, and, al- a long one, it Is very 1 be well to take a if your horse is skit- ssary to open a ou go along. All in this particu- sare a necessity. to Hatch’s Clearing you built aero the mouths 1 have the road tes as y dlowy ravines. This also is a or in these ravines grows the ngus which, if eaten by the milch cows, ses what Mrs. Pru- tr calls “the milk st-k’—not ame the i ng those who drink the milk vr made from tae milk. Mrs. hildren in this way, and t her old man, too, if ppened along in < with blank- water had been were so hot that in places. He eebleness would Mr Pruett was He got well, and, patches on his neck rance to this day, attack of sick- fe here nd to Hat toevard o tee Yr ve you are on ck of belief 1s rm rs) v you you Will see that have a stu are a the ted appear- to be scrubs; but even by moun- ake th for why it is that while the oaks ks ear a cow bell jing- the distance, and, ten to t a ten-year-old boy in ing by one sus- are you will me oad, hia breec the pender and an old weol hat flopping on the back of his head. Naturally you will ask him how far it is to Hatch’s Clearing. He will stare at you, scratch his bare ankle with his bare toe, turn slowly around on his heels, as if to be of his bearings, and then r with a drawl that cannot be reprodu “Why, I reckon you're right spang In It now, mister. You will be su tated, 30 m prised and somewhat frri- >. indeed, that you will in- quire with some scorn if this is what the People around here call a clearing. The boy will stare at you again, with a half smile playing around his pale lps, and say, as he rubs his thumb under the lone sus- pender to give it a firmer seat on his shoul- rhey uv been a callin’ it that ever gence granny came here from I dunno Wieres.” ‘i you will ask how far it is to Mrs. Pruett's, and the boy will say, with more animation “Hit ain't no ways, skeerse I'll show Ik by the and ve- up the you will ask him if he’s ever and he will say, with an » but my Budd Bill, he ever k him thar. Mister, that a out.” If you are wise, you will fall to talking i the horse, and so take the mind of the boy off the compulsory journey to At- . for such things as these do not con- I t memories of Tray nor of any other mountain or valley whatsoever. The boy will conduct {f not gay: along the while you will hear the Mrs. Pruett’s horse lot. ling in his will give the lad an excuse to run on ad of you. ch energy command “Oh, Lordy! them plegged dogs is done Fun the c domi He wii as his p exclaim, with as Intive voice can running and But it is all 2a come in sight of hree or four, maybe saded children on the and if you have who volunteered Q ett herself wil be on the porch, the right’ arm ed across her ample bosom, so that the hand may serve as 4 rest for the elbow of the left arm, which is bent so that the Teed stem of her beloved pipe may be held on a level with her good-humored mouth, ‘You will have time to notice, as your horse ascends the Incline that leads to the big ate, that the houso ts a very comfortable One for the mountains, neatly weather- joarded and cempactly bullt, with four fooms and a “shed,” which serves as a din- ing room and kitchen. Two boxwood . JOEL (uanomoLe flanaigy Plants stand sentinel inside the gate, and are, perhaps, the largest you have ever seen. There is also a ragged hedge of priv- et, which seems to lack thrift. A little later you will discover why mat- ters and things at Mrs. Pruett’s are order- ed somewhat differently from those that prevail at other mountain homes with which you may chance to be acquainted. Mrs. Pruett “herself is not native and to. the manner born, though you would never dis- cover it until she told you; and this infor- mation will not be long delayed. You will find that she was born in Jasper county, that her father moved to the Cherokee country after she was grown, and that she married Mr. Pruett, who, after many ups ard downs, settled on Tray mountain, “an’ done mighty well tell the govem-ment got to begrudgin’ poor foiks the little bit er money they made by turnin’ the’r apples an’ the'r grain into sperrets.” But this is running ahead faster than the boy did, and you can't do that comfortably in’a buggy drawn by a tired and hungry horse. The most you can do is to drive within easy hailing distance, take off your hat to the motherly figure on the porch, and inquire if you can get a bunch of fodder for your horse and a glass of buttermilk for yourself. Mrs. Pruett will turn first to the right and then to the left. Seeing no one but the children, she will call out, in a pene- trating but not unpleasant voice: “Where on the face of the yeth is Sary's Tom?" Forth from the house will come the boy you met on the road. i n't you move?” Mrs. Pruett will say. “Yander's the stranger a-wonderin’ an’ a- ‘k'nin* what kind of a place he’s come to, an’ here’: everbody a din’ aroun’ an’ a-star-gaz- in’ an’ a-suckin’ the’r thumbs. Will you stir ‘roun’, Tom, er shill I go out an’ take the stranger’s hoss? "im to come right in—an’ here! you Mirandy! fetch out that big rockin £3 body to their taste,” as the old woman said who kissed the cow and left her spectacles and one eye hanging on a horn. If those who admire the fanciful toggery that fash- ion insists on had seen Loorany Parmalee when she was driving the cows home, chunking old Brindle and using a good deal of language with a good deal of laughter —or, worse still, when she was digging for a woodchuck, and trying to keep the dozs from tearing the creature all to flinders, they would have laughed at the sugges- tion that she was beautiful enough to be put in a picture. But just reflect over the matter a min- ute. How many pictures of note, ancient or modern, contain figures that are dressed fashionably? Count on your fingers—leav- ing out portraits—and give the number. If you live to be a thousand years old you'll never get to your thumb in/a count of that kind. And now as to portraits; can you muster a dozen painted by masters of the art In which tho painter has not struck a blow at frills and furbelows by inventing costumes and ‘draperies to suit his own ideas of what is beautiful? But this is bordering on argument, and, in a matter of this kind, argument always weakens the case of those who employ it. The whole contention comes to this in the end: that, in the right light, and in the foreground of a bowlder, with a roguish streak of sunshine whipping across her black hair, her sunbonnet hanging between her shoulders, her right hand lifted as if listening, her lips half parted, and a saucy smile dancing in her eyes, no artist in our day and time has ever conceived a loveller picture than Loorany Parmalee made. To find its counterpart, you will have to hark back to the romantic rascals who lald on the color in old times. Anyhow, Loorany’s beauty was known far beyond the cloud-skirted heights of Tray mountain. Nocoochee—the Vale of the Evening Star—had heard about it, and was curious, and far away on the banks of the Chattahoochee, in the county of Hall a young man knew of it, and became “rest- less in the mind,” as Mrs. Pruett would It everything that is set will fried. for is no Pruett her in an attitude of listening for some thing. Finally, you will hear a shuffling seund in one of the rooms, as if a man Were moving about, and then, if it is Mrs. Prueti’s “old man"—and she well knows by the sound—she'll lift her voice and cali out: “Jerd! what on the tace of the yeth pe 2 air you doin’ in there? You'll stumble an’ pine NEV Gre ct arcr: break some er them things in there threck- | say. ‘This. young man’s name w ly. Why don't you come out an’ show | dreth—Hildreth of Hall, he was calle yourse’f? You hain’ afeard er nothin’ ner | causo there was a Hildreth in Hab ody, I hop ow, it would have been better in Whereupon Mr. Pructt will come out— for Hildreth of Hall if he had a giant in height, with a slight stoop in sa t complain likes your the atmosphere of tain fits the appetite to the fare. that you will before even if the m the looks you will you; If Mrs. enjoy you eat is moun- catch 1t Would Been heard of Loorany Parmalee, but Better if He his shoulders and a pleasant smile on his} blame should be laid at his door on ac- fac » will give you a hearty greet- | count of his ignorance; the future was a ing, mild biue eyes will regard | sealed book to him, as it is to all of us. yeu so steadfastly that you will wonder | It was what he knew and what he did, that why Mrs. Pruett as him {f he was | he is to be blamed for—if a dead man can afraid of anybody. Later, you will dis-| be blamed for anything. cover that this inquiry is a standing joke with his wife, for Jerd Pruett is renowned in all that region as the most dangerous man in the mountains when his temper is aroused. Fortunately for him and his neighbors, he has the patiene cf Job. You 1 find on closer acquainiance with Jerd Pruett that he is a man of con sidera’ information in a great many directions, and that he fs possessed of a large fund of common sense. Naturally the talk will drift to the murder of the young woman by Toog Parmalee. If you don't mention it Mrs. Pruett will, for she has her own ideas in regard to the tragedy. When You Come in Sight of the House. “What's bred in the bone will come out in the blo * she will say. ‘razy! why Toog Parmalee wern't no more crazy when he an’ And to old Killt Sally Williams much he looks lik: then Mrs. Prue than Jerd ein’ crazy!” will hark back and tell story that has some curious points of interest. It 1s a long story the way she tells it, but it will bear condensation. there— a PART IL. ng seems to be a circle within The circle may be too large or too small to be visible to the naked ey but it is there nevertheless. Indead, It is so much a part of our nature and tastes that they all unite in declaring that the curved line-a definite part of the circle—is the line of beauty. Well, the large circle that we are pleased to call time—in the hope that under that name it will become a straight line and so take us away from many things that are disagreeable and perplexing—brings with it at certain stated and unvarying periods (if we but knew how to measure them rightly) the noxious influences which, when they culminate, we term war. It was in the sixties, as time goes, when these noxicus influences culminated In this vest nursery of manhood, the American republic. Some of us have already forgot- ten what the bother was about, never hav- ing had very clear ideas as to the occasion of so much desperation. Nevertheless it will be a long time before some of the de- tails and developments are wiped from our | memories. As good luck would have it, ‘Tray mountain was out of the line of march, so to speak. The great circle en- circled it, to be sure, but the noxious v: pors were thinner here than elsewhere, so that Tray elbowed its way skyward in per- fect peace and security, and would hardly have known that the war was going on but for one event which came fike an explosion en the quiet neighborhood. ‘The echo of the explosion, Mrs. Pruett claims, was not heard until Toog Parmalee’s pistol went vff close to fis sweetheart’s bosom—and that was only the other day. Now, the war began gently enough and went along easily enough so far as Tray mountain was concerned. Its sunsets were not more®golden nor its wonderful dawns rosier on that account. The thunders that shook Manassas, and Malvern Hill, and Gettysburg gave forth no sounds in the crags of Tray. If the truth must be told, there are no crags nearer than’ those of Yonah, or those which lift up and form the chasm of Tallulah, for Tray is a common- place, drowsy old mountain, and it does nothing bat sit warming {ts sway back in the sun or cooling it in the rain. But Tray mountain had one attraction, if no other, and the name of this attrac- tion was Loorany Parmalee. In a moment of high good humor, Mrs. Pruett remarked that “ef Jerd had any fault in the world it was in bein’ too good.’ Paraphrase this terder tribute, and it would fit Loorany Parmalee to a T. If she had any fault it was in being too handsome. But beauty, it must be borne in mind, is a relative term when you employ it in a descriptive sense. No dount Loorany would have cut a very unfashionable figure in a group of beauti- iul girls dressed according to the demands of fashion. She lacked the high color and the lines that are produced by contact with refining influences; but on the mountain— in her own neighborhood—she was a cut or @ cut and a half above any of the rest of the girls. Her eyes were as black as coals and latent heat sparkled in their depths. Her features were regular, and yet a little hard, her under ip being ‘a trifle too thin, but she had the sweetest smile and the whitest teeth ever seen on Tray mountain. Her figure—well, her figure was what na- ture made it, and that wise old lady knows how to fashion things when she’s let alone and his the right kind of material to work on. She had the leisure as well as the material in Loorany’s case, and the result Was that the girl in form and in grace be- longed to the age that we see in some of the Grecian marbles. All this fs mentioned with proper re- serve, and with all necessary allowance for conflicting views and opinions. “Every- It happened in ine summer of 1s63 that Hildreth of Hall was visiting Hildreth of HaberSham—there was some matter of 10- lationship between them, and they both concluded to attend the camp meeting that was held every year on Taylor's range, a small spur that seemed to have been sent down by Tray to inform the Vale of the Evening Star that it could spread out no farther In that direction. Nocoochee was polite and agreeable and went wandering off westward, where it stands today the ioveliest valley in all the world. But Tay- lor’s range so far caught the infection from the valley as to permit its top to spread out as level as a table, and on this table the Christians pitched their rude tents and built them a rough tabernacle, and here they held their yearly camp meeting. To this meeting in 186% came Hildreth of Hall and his kinsmen. Hither also came a number of people from Hatch’s Clearing, and among them Loorany Par- malee. The old people had come to pray, but the youngsters had come to frolic, and the gayest of all was Looray Parmalee. There were girls from the villages round about, as well as girls frm the valley, and some of these made belleve to laugh at Loorany, but the laugh was against them when they saw the boys and young men flocking after her. Mrs. Pruett had more than half promised to keep an eye on Loorany, end she did her best, but how can a pious, maimed lady keep up with a good-looking girl when she is at an aga when she is less a woman and feels more like one than at any other stage of her ex- istence? Mrs. Pruett tried good humoredly te put a curb on Loorany, but the lass laughed and shook the bridle off, and no wonder, conside the weakness of hu- man natu he was beginning to taste the sweets of her first real conquest, for here was Hildreth of Hall, the finest young fellow of ‘he lot, followed her about like a dog and running hither and yon to please her whims and fancies. It fs true that John Wesley Millirons had been casting sheep's eyes at her for sev- hanging around the house on ernoons and riding with her to on Sundays, but what of that? Wasn't John Wesley almost the same as home folks? And did he ever sco the day that he was as polite, or as quick to fetch and carry, or as nimble with his tongue as Hildreth of Hall? Go along with your talk about sold qual- ities! Girls must enjoy themselves and have fun, and how can you have the heart to ask them to sit for hours with a chap that mopes or ts too bashful to talk fluently, or who looks like he is frightened to death all the time? It 1s too much to ask. Girls must have a chance, and if you don’t give it to them they will take it, So Mrs. Pruett watched Locrany gallant- ing around with Hildreth of Hail, and all the other chaps ready to take his place, except John Wesley Millirons, who sat in the shade and made marks in the sand So Mrs. Pructt Watched Loorany. with a twig. Mrs. Pruett watched all this, and gravely shook her head. And yet the head-shaking was good-humored and lenient. If Mrs. Pruett had been asked at the time why she shook her head she couldn't have told. She sald afterward that she knew why she shook her head, aad she was inclined to plume herself on her foresight. But you know how people are. If matters had gone on smoothly—or even if Loorany had been like other girls— Mrs. Pruett would have forgotten all about the fact that she shook her head when she saw the lass gallanting around with Hil- dreth of Hall Mrs. Pruett had a “tent” on the camp ground—a small cabin, roughly but very comfortably fixed up, and she stayed the week out. So did Loorany. So did Hil- dreth of ‘Hall. But along about Wednes- day—the meeting had begun on Sunday— John Wesley Millirons flung his saddle on his mule and made for home. Loorany Parmalee and Hildreth of Hall were sit- ting in a buggy under a big umbrella, and very close together, when John Wesley went trotting by, his long legs flapping against the sides of the mule. He bowed gravely as he passed, but never turned his head. “Don't he look it?” laughed Loorany, as he passed out of sight up the road that led to Tray. PART IIL. As may be supposed, John Wesley Mill- irons wasn’t feeling very well when ho rode off, leaving Loorany sitting close to Hildreth of Hall, under the big umbrella. And yet, he wasn’t feeling very much out of sorts, either, His patience was of that remarkable kind that mountain life breeds , SATURDAY, MAY 23, 1896-TWENTY-FOUR PAGES. —the kind shay t@onss to the everlasting hills, the overitinging sky. It can best be described (if you have a mind quick to draw parables) by a story that has been told on all th§fmountains in the world where people abide since—oh, since the year I, [ The weather domes up and shakes hand with the mountain, “You are still here, it says. “Oh, yes,” replies the mountain. “Well, Pm goitiy off and warm up,” the weather says. }'Pll get warm here,” the mountain rejoins. The n time the weather comes up and says: “I’m going off semewhere to cool off,” and the mountain answers: “I'll get cool here.” It was the same as to taking a bath or getting dry. The weather went after it, while the moun- tain sat still ang enjoyed it. At last the weather got mad and invented a thunder- storm, thinking to frighten the mountain, but the mountain was so tickled with this that after it made friends with the weather it Insisied on having a thunderstorm at least twice a week during the warm sea- son, So John Wesley Millirons, as he rode home, laughed to himself at the thought that he was the mcvntain and Loorany the weather. It was an uncouth thought that couldn’t be worked out logically, but it pleased John Wesley to hug the idea to his bosom, legic or no logic. And so he carried it home with him and nursed it long and patiently as an invalid woman in a poorhcuse nurses a sick geranlum. After the camp ineeting Hildreth of Hall became a femiliar figure on Tray moun- tain, especially in the neighborhood of Hatch’s Clearing. As the year 1863 was a period of war, you will wonder how such a strapping young fellow as Hildreth of Hall kept cut of the confederate army, since there was such a strenuous demand for food for the guns, big and little. The truth {s, It was a puzzle to a good many people about thet time, but there was no secret at all abcut it. The Hildreths, both of Hall and Habersham, had a gcod deal of political influence. If you think war shuts out politics and politicians you are very much mistaken. On the contrary, it widens their field of operation and thus sharpens their wits. In the confusion and uproar their increased activity escapes at- tention. Thus {t happened that Hildreth of Hall was a commissary. He pad a horse and buggy at the expense of the govern- ment, and the taxpayers of the country had to pay him well for every trip he made to Tray mountain. Under these circumstances, you under- ard, courting was not only easy and sant, but profitable as well, and Hil- dreth of Hall took due advantage of the situation. He would have made his head- rs at Mrs. Pruett’s, but somehow that who was thirty odd years younger then than she is now, had no fancy for the young man. She politely rejected his overtures, and so he mrde arrangements to put up at old men Miilirons'—of all places in the world. It was such a queer come-off that John Wesley used to go be- hind the corn crib and chuckle over it by the hour, especially on Sundays when he had nothing else to do. It was plain to everyoody except John Wesley Millirons that Loorany was per- fectly crazy about Hildreth of Hall, but a Fe many, impressed by Mrs. Pruett’s prejudice against the young man, 1 their doubts as to whether he was crazy about Loorany. On the other hand, there vere just as many, including the majority of the young people, who were certain, as they sald, that Hildreth of Hall loved Loo- rany Parmalee every bit and grain as hard as Locrany loved him, Between the two friendly factions you could hear all the facts in regard to the case and still never get at the rights of It. Once Mrs. Pruett took John Wesley to task in a kindly fashion. “I never know'd you was so clever, John Wesley, tell I seed you give the road to Hild’eth o’ Hall ~—an’ Loorany standin’ right spang in the middle waitin’ to see which un ‘ud git to ‘er fust. Oh, yes, John Wesley, you er even pout the cleverest feller in the worl “How come, Mis, Pruett? he inquired blandly. “Why, bekaze you was so quick to give way to that chap from below.” “1 secd ’em,” remarked John Wesley, chuckling. “Shucks! that feller _hain’t a botherin’ . exclaimed John Wes ‘Oh, I hope not,” said Mrs, Pruett; “the Lord knows I Fer ef he ain't a-both- erin’ you, T know mignty well he ain’t a- botherin’ Loorany. Ef you could ‘a’ seed ‘em a swingin’ in bullace vine as I did yestiddy you wouldn't a thought Loo- tany was bothered much. Well, not much!” Mrs. Pruett added sarcastically. “T seed 'em," remarked John Wesley, Kling. ‘ou did?’ cried Mrs. Pruett. She was both surprised and tndiguant. um! I thess sot up an’ laugh- Mrs. Pruett said afterward that her heart jumped into her throat when she heard John Wesley So such a strain, for the idea flashed in her mind that he was distracted—and it so impressed her that for one brief moment she was overtaken by fear. “Well,” sho sald, trying to turn the mat- ter off lightly, “when you see a feller wi’ his arm aroun’ a gal an’ she not doin’ any squealin’ to speak of, you may know it's not so mighty long tell the weddin’ “Yassum,” responded John Wesley, still chuckling, “it may be so wi’ some folks, but not when the gal is Loorany Parmalee. No, ma'am! You thess wait.” “Oh, it hain't no trouble to me to wait,” said Mrs. Pruett; “but what'd I do ef I was a-standin’ in your shoes?” You'd make yourse’f comfertuble, thess like I'm a-doin’,” remarked John Wesley. Mrs. Pruett was so much disturbed that she told her husband about it, and sug- gested that he look into the matter to the extent of making such inquiries as a man can make. But Jerd shook his head and snapped his big fingers. “Oh, come now, mother,” he sald, “it’s uther too soon er it’s too late. An’ that hain't all, mother—by the time I git done tendin’ to my own business an’ your’n I feel tke drappin’ off ter sleep.” Matters went on in this way until late in 18683, and then there came a time when Hildreth of Hall ceased to visit Hatch's Clearing. Some sald he nad been “con- scripted into the war,” as they called tt, and some said he had been appointed to another office that took up jis -time and attention But, whatever the cause of his absence was, Loorany seemed to be satis- fled. She went about as gay as a lark and as spry as a ground squirrel. John Wesley, too, continued to take things easy. He made no show of elation over the ab- sence of Hildreth of Hall, and never in- quired about it. He had never ceased his visits to the Parmalee’s, but he went no oftener, now that his rival hed disappear- ed from the field, than he had gone before. As Mrs. Pruett remarked, he was the same old John Wesley in tair weather as he was in foul. Patient and willing, and good humored, for all his seriousness, he went along attending to his own business and helping everybody else who needed help. Thus, in a way he was very popular, but somehow those who liked him least’ had a pity for him that was almost contempt- uous. John Wesley paid no attention to such things. He just rocked along, as Mrs. Pruett said. It was the same when, one day in the spring of 1864, Hildreth of Hall came rid- Ing up the mountain driving a pair of handsome horses to a top buggy. He wore a gray uniform, and the coat had a long tail to it—a sure sign he was an officer of some kind, for Jerd Pruett had seen just such coats worn by the officers in the vil- lage below. To be sure, there ought to have been some d of a mark on the sleeves or shoulders; but no matter about that; nobody but officers could wear long- tailed coats. That point was settled with- out much argument. And the buggy was new or had heen newly varnished, for the spokes shone in the sun, and the sides of the body glis- tened like’ glass. What of that? Well, a good deal, you may be sure; for some peo- ple can put two and two together as well as other people, and the folks on the moun- tain hadn't been living for nothing. What of that, indeed! Two fine horses and a shiny top-buggy meant only one thing, and that was a wedding. Everybody was certain of that except John Wesley Millirons. When Mrs. Pruett twitted him with this overwhelming evi- dence he had the same old answer ready: “You all thess wait.” “Well, we ain't got long to wait,” sald Mrs. Pruett. “You reckon?” exclaimed John Wesley, with pretended astonishment. Then he chuckled and went on his way, apparent- ly happy and unconcerned. Hildreth of Hall remained in the netgh- borhood about a week, and was with Loor- any Parmalee pretty much all the time, except when he was asleep. They took long buggy rides together, and everything seemed to be getting along swimmingly. But one morning early Hildreth of Hall harnessed up his horses with his own hands and went off down the road leading to Clarksville. It was noticed after that that Loorany was not as gay and as spry as she nad been. In fact, the women folk could see that she was not the same girl at all. She used to go and sit in Mrs. Pruett’s porch and watch the road, and sometimes ker mind would be so far away that she would have to be asked the same question twice tefore she'd make any reply. And she had a way of sighing that Mrs. Pruett didn’t like at all. You know how peculiar sumo people are when they are fond of anybody. Well, that was the way with Mrs. Pruett. PART Iv. Nearly two months after Hildreth of Hall went away with his two fine horses and his shiny topbuggy, Tray mountain got wind of some strange news. The word was that conscript officers were coming up af- ter some of the men, both old and young, Mrs. Pruett Saw in Much. who were of the lawful age. The news was brought by a son of Widow Purvis, Jerd Pruett’s sister, who lived within a mile of Clarksville. She had gone to town with butter and eggs to exchange for some factory thread—“spun truck,” Mrs. Pruett called it—and she heard it from old man Hathaway, who was a particular friend of Jerd Pruett’s. Word reached the mountain just in time, too, for within thirty-six hours four horse- men came riding along the road and stop- ped at Mrs. Pruet And who should be leading them but Hildreth of Hall! Mrs. Pruett saw this much when she peeped through a crack in the door, and she was so taken aback that you might have knocked her down with a feather. But in an instant she was as mad as fire. “Hello, Mrs. Pruett Hall. “Ww says Hildreth of Pruett, placidly The young man’s face fell at this, but he sald with a bold volce: “Why, don't you know me, Mrs, Pruett?" “I mought ‘a’ seed you before, but folks 1s constant a-comin’ an’ a-gwine. They pass up the road an’ down the road an’ then they pass out’n my mind.” Well, you haven't forgotten me, I know; I'm Hildreth of Hall.” “Is that so, now?” remarked Mrs. Pruett, with just the faintest show of interest. “It ‘pears to me we hyearn you was dead. What's your will and pleasure wi’ me, Mister Hall?” The unconscious alr with which Mrs, Pruett miscalled the young man’s name was as effectual as a blow. He lost his composure, and turned almost helplessly to his companions. If he expected sympathy he missed {t. One of them laughed loudly and cried out to the othe We'll have to call him Blowhard. Why, he declared by everything good and bad that he was just as chummy with these folks as thelr own kin. And now, right at the beginning, they don't even know his name.”* “Where's your husband dreth of Hall. * will before the day’s over. Ie may «now you better’n I do,” sald Mrs. Pruett, “but I hardly reckon he does, bekaze I'd mos’ likely ‘a’ hyearn on it.” here is he?" insisted the young man. “Who? my ol’ man? Oh, him an’ a whole passel of the boys took tneir guns an’ went off to'ard Hiiiman’s spur bright an’ carly this morning. They said signs of a bv'ar had been seed thar, but I allowed to myse’f that they was thess a-gwine on a frolic.” Mrs. Pruett took off her spectacles, wiped them on her aprcn and readjusted them to her head, smiling serenely all the while. “We may as well go to the Millirons',” remarked Hildreth of Hall. “I don’t care where you go, so you don’t lead us into a trap,” remarked one of the mon. They turned away from Mrs. Pruett’s and rode farther into the settlement. But inquired Hil- f he don't know me he “You spil'd my game,” he remarked. they soon discovered that Tray mountain had practically closed its gates against them. The women they saw were as grim ard as silent as the mountain. Hildreth of Hall had been telling his companions what a lively place (considering all the circum- stances) Hatch’s Clearing was, and this added to his embarrassment and increased his irritation. So that you may well be- Meve he was neither gay nor good humored when, after passing several houses, he came to Millirons’, where he had been in the habit of making himself free and familiar. Everything was as grim and silent as the grave, and John Wesley sat on the ferce as grim and as silent as any of the surroundings. “There's one man, anyway remarked one of Hildreth’s companions. “Be blank- ed if I don’t feel like going up and shaking hands with him; that is, if he’s alive.” For John Wesley neither turned his head nor stirrred. ‘How are you, Millirons?” said Hildreth of Hall, curtly. “Purty well,” replied John Wesley, with- out moving. “We are going to put our horses under the shed yonder and give them a handful of fodder,” Hildreth of Hall declared. John Wesley made no reply to this. “Did you hear what I said?” asked the young man, somewhit petulantly. “I hyearn you,” answered John Wesley. Whereupon Hildreth of Hall spurred his hcrse through the open lot gate, followed by his companions. They took off saddles and bridles, made some halters out of plow lines, and gave their horses a heavy feed of fodder. Then they returned to the house, and found John Wesley sitting where they had left him, and in precisely the same position. ie We get dinner?” asked Hildreth of all, eee not,” replied John Wesley. “Why?” “Nobody at home but me an” the tom Highest of all in Leavening Power.— Latest U.S. Gov't Report ‘al b=] LUTELY PURE Ro cat, an’ we're locked out. Maybe you can git’ dinner at Parmalee’s when the time comes. They're all at home. But it hain't nigh dinner time yit.” John Wesley slow- ly straightened himself out and came off the fence with an apologetic smile on his face. “Ef these gentermen here don't mind, I'd like to have a word wi’ you, sorter private like.” He looked at Hildreth of Hall, still smiling. For answer, Hildreth“of Hall walked to a monntain vak a hundred feet away, fol- lcwed by John Wesley. “What do you; want?” “I s'pose you've come up to marry the gal?” suggesied John Wesley. have not,” replied Hildreth of Hall. ‘I mean Loorany Parmalee,” said John Wesley, pulling a small piece of bark from the tree. “It matters not to me who you mean,” remarked Hildreth. “I just wanted to find out,” John Wesley went on, fitting the piece of bark between them and forefinger as if it were a mar. ble. “I allers allowed you was a d— dog.” The bark flew into the face of Hildreth of Hall and left a stinging red mark there as John Wesley, with a contemptuous ges- ture, tusned away. Hildreih’s hand flew to his hip pocket “Watch out there!’ cried one of his co parions, in a warning tone. ‘He'll shoot “I reckin not,’ sald John Wesley without turning his head. “The fact of the busi- | ress is, gentlemen, they won't marry one on you shoot. A bulldog’ll fight, lt you Jet him foller a sheep-killin’ houn’ to the pastur; an’ a bench-legged fice can run | ‘im, You all mayn’t believe it, but it’s the | fact truth.” But John Wesley would have been shot all the sume if the thought hadn't flashed on Hildreth’s mind that the house was full of armed mountaineers. This stayed his hard—not only stayed his hand, but, ap- rently, put him in a good humor. He | lowed John Wesley and said: “As you are so brash about it, we'll gO and see the young lady. “What about the horses? the men, “Come on,” said Hildreth of Hall in a low voice. “The horses are all right. The! chaps don’t steal, Come on; that house is full of men “I told you you were leading us into a ap,” growled one of his companions, “and re we are.” When they were out of sight, John Wes- ley went into the lot and looked at th herses. He was so much interested in their ccmfort that he loosed their halters. Then he cast a glance upward and chuckled. A wasp nest as big as a man’s hat was hang- ing between two of the rafters, teeming with these irritable insects. John Wesley | went outside, climbed up to the top of the shed, counted the clapboards both ways, planted himself above the wasp nest, and with one quick stamp of the foot knocked a hole in the rotten plank. The noise startled the horses, the wasps swarmed down oa them, and the next instant they were going down the road the way they had come, squealing, whickering, kicking and running like mad. When they were out of hearing John Wes- ley went into the house by a back door, got his rifle and went off through the woods. Hildreth of Hall and his companions must have had a cool reception at Par- malee's, for in about an hour they came back in some haste. If they were alarmed, that feeling was increased tenfold at find- ing their horses gone. Their saddles and bridles were where they had left them, but the horses were gone. They held a hurried conversation in the lot, climbed the fence instead of coming out near the house, skict- ed through the woods and entered the road near Mrs. Pruett's, moving as rapidly as men can who are not running. A half mile farther the road turned to the left and led through a ravine. On one bank, hid by the bushes, John Wesley sat with his rifle across his lap, lost in meditation. Occasionally he plucked a rotten twig and crumbled ft in his fingers, After awhile he heard voices. He raised imself on his right knee and placed his left foot forward as an additional support. Then he raised his gun, struck the stock lghtly with the palm of his hand to shake the powder down and held himself in read- iness. When the men came in sight Hil- dreth of Hall was slightly in advance of the others, John Wesley slowly raised his rifle and was about to bring the barrel to a level with his eyes when he saw a flash of fire on the opposite bank, and heard the sharp crack of a rifle. He was so taken by sur- | prise that he raised himself in the bushes and looked about him. Hildreth of F had tumbled forward in a heap at the flash, and the other men jumped over his body and ran like rabbits. Before the hatful cf smoke had lifted to the level of the tree tops they were out of hearing. John Wesley crossed the road and went to the other side. There he saw Loorany Parmalee leaning against a tree, breathir hard. At her feet lay a riffe. “You sp'iled my game," he remarked. Is he dead?” she asked. n about,” he replied. She threw her sack and breathed hard. John Wes- picked up the rifle and examined it. Was you gwine to kill him?” Loorany asked. ‘Well, sorter that away, I reckon.” ‘Did you have the notion that I'd marry you afterwards?” “I wan't a-gwine to ax you, Wesle: “Will you take me now, jest as T am?” “Why, I reckon,” he replied, in a matter- of-fact ‘tone. So they went home and left to look after Hildreth of Hall. In course of time a boy was born to Loorany Millirons, and the event made her husband a widower, but the child was never known by any other name than that of Toog Parmalee—and Toog was the chap that shot his sweetheart. All these things, as Mrs. Pruett sald, were the cause of the difficulty you read about in the newspapers the other day. “Tribble the generations,” she added, “an sin’s arm is long enough to retch through ‘em all.” (The end.) ——___ A Few Mexican Taxes. From Appleton’s Popular Science Monthly. Every inhabitant of the republic who sells goods to the value of over $20 must give to the buyer “an Invoice, note or other document accrediting the purchase,” and affix to the same and cancel a stamp cor- responding to the value of the sale. Salos at retail are exempt from this tax, and re- tall sales are defined to be “‘sales made with a sirgle buyer, whcse value does not exceed $20. The reunion in a single invoice of various parcels, one of which does not amount to $20, but which in the aggregate exceed that quentity,” remains subject to the tax. Retail sales in the public mar- kets, or by amLulatory sellers, or Mcensed ! establishments whose cepital does not ex- ceed $300, are also exerapt. Tickets of all descriptions—railroad, the- ater, etc.—must have a stamp, as must each page of the reports of meetings, each leaf of a merchant's ledger, day or cash book, and every cigar sold singly, which must be delivered to the buyer in a stamp- ed wrapper. Sules of imported spirits pay 8 per cent on the duties levied on their im- portation, and a half of 1 per cent in ad- dition when retailed. Demestic spirits pay 3 per cent when sold by producers or deal- ers at wholesale, and a half of 1 per cent additicna! when sold at retail. Gross re- ceipts of city railroads pay 4 per cent, pub- lic amusements, 2 per cent upon the amount paid for entrance; playing cards, 50 per cent—paid in stamps—on the retail price, and manufactured tobacco a variety of taxes. proportioned to quality and valve. Mercantile drafts are taxed at $1 on ¢very hundred. ee A Victim of Charity. Frem the Yonkers Gazette. Quicdiman—“What’s up, Dunfer? That hand satchel would seem to indicate that! you were going off on a brief journey. Dunfer—“Not se very brief, either. I'm off for Africa.” Quiddiman—“Africa? me on, boys! asked one of t * sald John other people You don’t mean “Yes, I qo, thovgh. I'm driven You see, my wifs is president of the Ujiji Heathen Relief Association, and she confiscating my wardrobe so rapidly for that cause that I've got to go where I can elther share in the distribution, or be ex- empt from the penalty which here attaches an’s airing himself in the normal =i Baking Powder FERNS IN EARLY SPRING. How They Are to Be Grown So as to Make Them Beautiful Adornments. From the Boston ‘Transcript. Of all the ferns “house cultivated” that I have met, none surpass, few equal, the suc- cess achieved by one’s making his own selection by the wayside or in the wood- land. They adapt themselves Letter to the usual possibilities attendaat upon sitting room or hall surroundings than the more delicately nurtured hot or greenhouss terns do. Most of these are such a finely fibered strain and used to such a dainty atmos- phere, just damp enough when it ought to be damp, just hot enouzh when it ought to be hot, that they find the change from greenheuse to the average houscholder's care too great for them to bear and flour- It seems to be merely a matter of taste as to which variety of fern is taken, except that it be young and strong looking; it may be the broad-fronded or tha narrow, fire fronds, as one chooses; it may have two or taree leaves or a dozen—probably they will all die down after che removal, but new ones will be already started. Take up the whole of the root, if posst- j ble; to make sure of this, cut at some dis- tance from the base of the pliant. [ have seen them thrive in woodiand earth brought home at the same time that the roots were dug, and have noted as thrifty ones that were set in common garden moid. Choose a large pot and sci the plant firmly: place the pot i. a north vindow and whwer enough to keep the eartn trom becoming dry, but do not keep it in a state of mud. Otherwise, let the fern alone and do not expect growth; and do not decide that the transplanting is a failure because the old leaves drop off. If thay begin to grow yel- low, let them alone until they will drop oif at a touch; never bruise the main Stalk by pulling off a leaf that holds ever so slight- ly; on any plant, when nature is ready to age, @ breath of air, a gent , not an effort, will cause the disea a < i leaf to fall, When new leayas have started whether the old have fallen off or othe wise, your plent thus signals, “I am te- rooted; 1 am ” home; now give me plenty to eat, pl to drink, and 1 will repay you; hut don’t overfoecd me. neither drown m3 4 for 1 am not exactly utton, and in no sense am Taquatics? © Liquid fertilizer may be used to aaven- tage weekly on a thrifty fern after it has resumed growing; and if in an utterly sun- 88 window or room, give it a treat one -k in five by changing off with th of some other plant, here. it a placin, h i shall get come sun daily = * Wt 4 Study nature for the best book. Rarely does one transplant a fern from a spot jthat the sun never touches, though most frequently ferns are taken from spots much shaded; but, remark the fact. not ate solutely sunless, ‘That should is guide enough for the question of Nght and shade. HOW SOME PEOPLE TALK. As a Boston Newspaper Records the Current Types of Conversation. From the Boston Transcript. Here is an impeachment of Boston Eng- lish that is an impeachment. As it is wel) to know the worst that can be said about and as the letter which follows ts not all @ general accusation, but a specifio us, 88: r Idstener—May speciments of Ens! not a thousand m I send you a few 8 she is spok m Boston by p sons in good society—so-called—-many of them members of women’s c wring and Emerson societies, & luding some ex-school teachers? In some of” the in- stances mentioned it will be notic the degree of culture is indica the pronunciation than by t “I've read French quite a Iittls.” he much better? Yes; some consider- is quite a good deal warmer than t it was yest e She lives quite a ways from here.” (This by a cc > gral e, feminine.) “I like the furtherest one aia of two things.) isn’t a cluzet (clo. in don’t feel real well. hope you will be a lot er.” hey stayed at the Mounting House.” (Mountain House.) says to Hexry’s tea w (proaour ip ed shoo) her my new f I was you don't know la: as I meet an.” By Was elected a m: aped pl have « e sawr @ man.” hat was ri had.” “I wished (present tease) you would come and see me.” “I wes here when tense.) f any one would like thelr 0 lawr about she co ni sented to the club,” & (This by {dent of the club.) “Did you sleen good?" . » a dog, nor the Smiths don’t know but what it 1s #0" (by e ¢ speaker of supe “I suppose I shall firs aw him when I was down to Port- (he las: two by a fo: reesident of one of our leading female colleges, a man of uncommon culture and Mterary at- tainments.) “Yes, that’s her.” (By pal Church, not in pats equivocal (equr of gland.) t) to saying,” the ‘That man is a colossial Mar.” Vhen my daughters were in a convent in Italy, the nuns learned them to do Flor- entine embroider They worked a chair cover, and one of them done the seat and the other done the back.” Then there are some ple whose gram- me is not always correct, who will yet take pains to say Md — ” “Don't— you,” “Would—you,” &c., Instead of Jer,” “Don’tchew” ‘and “Wouldjew”” ing to think that nicety respect is sufficient evidence of a high degres of cul- ture. Of course, a slovenly should be avoided; but of the two, {3 not grammatical correctness and care in the choice of language more important than mere nicety of pronunciation? The Knowing Pup. From the Milegende Blatter. S\N ee