fili
ftit
TERMS 1 Per Yenr,)
J.Y .4.D VANCE. )
AN INDEPENDENT FAMILY NEWSPAPER.
7B Cents for 6 Months f
4L0 Cts.for 3 months.
Vol. VII.
New 331oonifiell, Fix., Tiieaiy, .A.iiSiit lO, 1873.
rs o. 33.
l i ft 5 iOIX
ht Iomnfifltr (inus.
IS PUBLISHED EVERT TUESDAY MOHXINO, DI
FEANK 1I0ETIMEE & CO.,
At New Bloomfleld, Perry Co., Ta.
Belnp! provided with Steam Power, and large
Uynmier unu joi-i'renses, we niepiupftieu
to do all kinds of Job-1'rlntlng lu
tcood style and at Low Trices.
ADVERTISING HATES 1
Transient 8 Cents per lino for one Insertion
12 " " twolnsortlons
15 " " "three insertions
Business Notices In Local Column 10 Cents
per line.
9-For longer yearly adv'ts terms will be given
upon application. t
Tlio Mislaid Letter.
I AM Aunt Gunter. Job Guntcr ia my
husband. We keep the Anchor Port
Post Ofllco and a store, and sell groceries
and garden sass, calico, shoes and medi
cines, like other folks in our Hue, when
anybody asks for 'em.
When a ship comes in, and the sailors
como home to their wives and mothers,
trade grows brisk. The housekeepers do
their best, and the raisins and dried cur
rants and eggs and butter go off finely, and
it's worth while to lay in ribbons for the
girls, and smoking tobacco and long pipes
for the men.
Jack and his wages make old Anchor
Port brisk for a while, but at last he sails
away, and all the women soom to ask for
will be letters letters, letters, when they
have a right to expect them, and when
they haven't all the same. .
It's 4 Please, Aunty Gunter, look over
them, and see if there ain't one for me ;'
and it's Please, Uncle Gunter ; it might
have got mixed up and overlooked some
how ; often and often God help the poor
souls ! after Jack lies at the bottom of the
sea, and nothing will ever reach them but
the news of his shipwreck. But plenty of
letters came after all, and sometimes we
had to read them for the folks, Job and I,
and so we got to know something of their
lives.
Hilly Moore could read and write her
self, but still I always knew when she had
a letter from Will Masset. I knew it by
the hand-writing, and I knew it by her
blushes, and by that happy look in her
face. When be came homo, she bought
ribbons and bits of lace by the apronfull ;
and I knew where the packages of candy
that he bought were to go. And I used
to keep Job from Ashing down in Pullman's
creek of afternoons, because I knew that
was where Milly and Will liked to walk.
Courting time comes but once in s lifetime,
and I always like to see it prosper.
At last he sailed away, second mate of
the Golden Dove ; and when he came
back from that voyage, they were to be
married.
It was a sad day when that ship sailed.
Mrs. Captain Rawdon and her girls were
crying on the shore. Twenty women from
the Port and five from the Hill were there
to see her sot sail.
It was a grim, gray day, and the voyage
to be a long one.
It was under our old sycamore that Will
took Milly to his breast. .
"Don't fret, darling !" he said. " I will
come back safe and sound. I couldn't
drown now ; I've too muoh to live for."
Poor boy ! in spite of that, the Golden
Dove went down in mid-seas, and only
three men reached Anchor Port to tell how
Captain Rawdon and the rest were lout; at
dead of night, in a most dreadful storm.
Captain Kincaid brought the news up to
Mrs. Rawdon. He stopped at our store to
tell about it. A nice old man. A bachelor
still at fifty-eight, and as handsome, with
his white hair and red cheeks, as a picture.
That was twelve mouths ago, the night
I went Into the store to sort some things
out, as I always did Saturday nights.
Through the week Job used to get every
thing mixed up letters in my tea-boxes
candles in the letter-box, eggs where they
oughtn't to be, and all the place askew. It
was a warm autumn night, and Captain
Kincaid's vossol was in port and we had
plenty of custom. Job served the people,
while'l tidied up. I found half the last
mall In a sugar-box, and clothes-pins in
the ground-coffee canister, and I just
dumped them out.
"Gather up your letters, Job," said I
" What possesses you, old man?"
And ho laughed, and piled them up.
And I made n vow to myself that I'd keep
the sugar-box full after that, bo that he
shouldn't use it for the mail.
I had twenty-four pounds of sugar
known as "coffee-crushed," because it is
prepared especially to use in coffee. That
was the finest sugar Anchor Hill folks
often bought, though I had a littlo cut
and powdorcd by me, in case Mrs. Raw
don, or Mrs. Dr. Speor, or the minister's
lady should send in; and I took tho paper
up and tilted it over the japanned box,
pouring it in a nice smooth stream, when
who should come running into the shop
but Milly Moore. She' was not dressed
carefully, and her eyes were red with
crying.
She asked for some tea, and while Job
was weighing it out she beckoned to me,
and whispered :
"Oh! Aunty Gupler, have you looked
to-day? Isn't there a letter from Will? Ho
said he couldn't die. I don't feci as if ho
could. Mightn't he write after all ? Do
look !"
" My pet," says I, " It's a year ago that
the Golden Dove went down. It is not
likely, dear, but I'll look."
I took the letters in my band one by one.
Many of them would make hearts glad
before the shutters were up that night; but
none for Milly. It couldn't be expected,
of course.
I told her so ; but I took her in my littlo
back parlor, and made her Bit down.
I talked as good as I could to her, but
what good does talking do ?
"Oh, Aunty," says she, "I know it
seems as if I was a fool ; but I walked up
hoping this morning. I don't believe he is
gono. I can't, I can't.
" When baby died the only one we ever
had I thought I should never believe it,"
said I. " But I had Job; and you have
your mother and sister."
At that she burst into tears, and put her
head down on my knees.
"I must tell you," said she. "They
want me to marry Captain Kincaid. He is
courting me. He fell in love with me the
night ho brought the news to Mrs. Captain
Rawdon ; I was there sewing, and heard it
all. Oh, how cruel to fall in love with a
poor girl at such a time I And he asks me
to bo his wife. And mother and Fanny
shall always have a home, he says. And
you know how poor wo are. And they're
angry at me for saying No. And how can
I, how can I, when my heart is in the sea
with Will?"
" Not just yet," said 1, after a while.
Perhaps when you feel better. IIo's old, I
know but he's a splendid man."
" You, too 1" said she. " You, too 1 No
body understands. It isn't as if I had made
up my mind, like all the rest. Will will
always bo a living man in my mind. I
don't think any one ever loved but me.
Nobody understands nobody."
I kissed her, and coaxed ber, and said no
word about her changing her mind; but for
all that I kept thinking of it in a kind of
maze.
" Captain Kincaid I such a gentleman as
that 1 Old aa be was, could she fail to see
the honor?"
But when I told Job, says he : " Jerusa
lem I a young, pretty girl like Milly I Why
don't he go after soino widdor or an oldish
gal? Milly is too young for him. Poor
Will I what a pity I They jest suited each
other."
I couldn't help It, though. Mrs. Captain
Kincaid would have things that Miss Milly
Moore could never dream of ; silk dresses
velvet cloaks and jewelry, stuffed chairs in
her best rooms, a silver icepitcher, if she
chose, like Mrs. Captain Rawdon. She
might have a carriage, too, and a pair of
ponies. And I liked Milly, and wouldn't
have envied her luck one bit ; and I didn't
wonder at Mrs. Moore and Fanny.
Once having given me her confidence,
Milly didn't stop ; and Mrs. Moore came
over to talk about it, too, until at last I
fairly up and sided with the old lady.
' "Milly," says I, " Will is gone, and you
ain't his widow, to wear weeds all your
lire not that many do, if they can help it,
seems to me and Captain Kincaid is as
good as man can be, and you'll be happy
with him. You can't help loving him as
much as there's any need to love."
After, that she stopped talking much to
me. She used to give me strange looks,
though. I knew that her heart was in the
sea ; but Will was gone, and why should
she refuse what Providence offered?
The Captain staid at the Port three
months, and at last we worried her into
promising to be his wife old Mrs. Moore,
Fanny and I. She gave up at last.
" It don't matter much, aftor all," she
said. " I must be going out of my mind,"
for I can never stop watching and hoping.
I shall die soon, I suppose, whother I mar
ry or not."
After that she never spoke of Will, and
Mrs. Moore told mo she was engagod ; and
she wore a diamond ring upon her finger.
And tho day before tho ship sailed she
was to marry Captain Kincaid, so that she
might go to Europe with him.
A year and three months siuco the Gol
den Dove wont down. Well, no one can
tell what changes a little while will bring.
I used to hopo that I hadn't had much
hand in it after all, when I thought it over,
and remembered poor Will, and how ho
stood holding her in his arms under the
sycamore
But then, you see, Mrs. Moore's sight
had failed, so that she could not do fine
sowing, and Fanny wasn't of much account
except to look at. It was a hard life that
lay before Milly. It was good for her to
marry Captain Kincaid, and have rest ond
comfort, wasn't it ?
." To-morrow is the wedding," said I to
Job, " It's going to be in the church. Miss
Salisbury is finishing my silver-gray poplin.
It sets splendid. We'll have Ben Barnes
in to keep store, and go, won't we? You'll
like to see Milly off won't you?"
" I wish it was Will Masset," said Job.
"Poor Willi" saya I, and I went on
tidying, though it was on Friday. I should
bo so busy next day. I got out my big
paper of sugar, and got down my japanned
sugar box, never empty yet since that day
I filled it up. And Job, sorting the letters,
looked up at me.
"Never begrudged you anything so
much as I do that box," says he. " Best
thing I ever put tho mail into. This
mere woodon thing with a slide is a pesky
bother."
"Law me," says I, "if I'd knowed you
wanted it, you should have had it. I didn't
think you had any plan in it. Jest stick
them anywhere, I thought you would. I'll
empty the box ; I've got one that'll do.
And I am glad you spoke before I filled it
up."
So with that I spread out a big paper on
the counter, and emptied out the sugar.
It had packed a littlo, and came out in a
sort of a cake. There it laid, white and
shining, and on top of it, whiter and shin
ier, laid a letter a letter with a ship mark
upon it, and this superscription :
" Mm Milly Moore, Anchor Port, Maine,
United Statct of America.
Three months ago poor stupid 1 I had
emptied my coffee-crushed in upon it, and
there it was.
Three months ago she had come down
to me and asked for a letter, and I thought
her half crazy ; and I'd have given more
money than there was in the till to have
dared to tear that letter open on the spot
and road it, though I knew the hand was
Will Masset's.
" This cau't wait," say I.
"No," says Job, "itdin't, with the
wedding com in' off to-morrow."
Then I stopped and thought, let it lio
until it's called for, and she'll be Mrs. Cap
tain Kincaid, with her silks and her vel
vets, and her fine house and her carriages,
all the same. This comes from a ship
wrecked sailor, poorer now than when he
went away.
" Perhaps I'd better wait until the wed
ding is over, Job," says I.
And my old man came across the room
and put his arm about my waist.
" Nancy," says he, " you and I was
young folks once. I used to think some
thing was better than money and fine
doings, then. And though wo old folks
may got a little hard though to bo up in
the world Bccms so much, and all that old
sweetness so silly, why, it will come back
some times. You remember how he kissed
her under tho sycamore ; and Nancy, we
couldn't wait until aftor the wedding,
either of us."
I put my arms about Job's nock, and I
kissed him j and thon I got my sunbounct
and ran over to Mrs. Moore's.
Captain Kincaid was there. I stood at
the door with the letter behind my back.
" Won't you walk in?" said Mrs. Moore.
" I-I haven't time," said I. " It's only
an errant. It's a singular, Milly, thero's
a a '
" My letter 1 my letter !" cried Milly.
" It has come at last I"
How she knew it, Heaven knows. She
hadn't bad a glimpse of it.
It was the old sailor's story; a shipwreck,
a deserted island, wretched mouths spent in
hope of succor, and a sail at last. He
would be home in tbfee months. -
" Three months I" said Milly, " Oh, how
can I wait?"
And then says I :
" Milly, forgive a poor old stupid goose.
That letter has been lying under the best
coflce-crushed three months and a day.
And there's a vessel in tho offing this very
moment."
So it was Will at last ; and Job and I
went to the wedding with hoppy hearts.
And no need to pity Captain Kincaid,
either, for he married Fanny Moore before
the year was over.
Notes of a Journey on the Atchison, To
peka and Santa Fe 11. 11.
ATCIIINSON, a city of ton thousand
inhabitants on the Missouri River, is
the Eastern terminus. The Atchison,
Topcka and Santa Fe Railroad is an enter
prise projected long ago, hold in abeyance
for several years from various causes, but
rapidly finished at last from the absolute
necessity of its construction to meet the
demand of South-western commerce and
development. Aftor the tourist takes his
scat in tho train which is to boar him four
hundred miles into the wildorness, his at
tention is taken up by the surpassing beau
ty of the country. Tho landscape prosonts
a succession of long swells, with here and
thoro a conical elevation which constitutes
a prominent land-mark, while timber fring
ed creeks lie on cither hand among tho
swells, like the veins of a leaf. The whole
is dotted with farm-houses, herds of cattle
and grain-Holds. In summer it is probably
the brightest pastoral landscape west of
the Mississippi. There is in it besides a
suggestion of more than it shows, a future
of wealth not to be excelled in any region.
Twenty-five miles out from Atchison is
Grasshopper Falls, the junction with the
only "narrow-gauge" railway in Kansas.
It is a pretty country town,' mainly import
ant as being the seat of a fine water-power.
Twenty-five miles more, and you are at
Topoka, tho capital of the State. Here is
the crossing of the Kansas Pacific, the
machine-shops and head-quarters of the
Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fo Railroad.
It is a city of ten thousand peoplo, famous
for its magnificent situation, its wide
streets, and especially as being the politi
cal and social centre of the State.
The next town of importance is Burlin
game, about twenty-five miles further on.
It is an important county town, and you
see here most prominently that which is a
very prominent figure in all Kansas towns;
a magnificent school building in a com
manding situation. But between Topeka
and Burlingame lio two or three of the
most interesting industrial features of this
line. The village of Osage City and Car
bondalo presents the unexpected spectacle
of two towns which have sprung up there
withiu a year or two, solely by reason of
the weulth they stand upon. Here are
what are known as the Osage coal-fields,
which produco coal very fair in quality.
The shafts, in many instances, are imme
diately beside the railroad-track, and are
constantly and extensively worked. They
are a solution of a most vital problem, for
from" them the Atchison, Topeka and
Santa Fe Railroad can choaply supply
every town on lis line for all time to como.
If there should be no coal discovered west,
and there is no reasou why thoro should
not be, there is enough here to set the
South-western fuel-problem at rest. In
this immediate vicinity, also, are exten
sive ochre-fields, from which is now being
manufactured pottery-waro, tiles, furnace
flues, and very heavy, hard, bright-rod
brick. Iloie are also extensive quarries of
what is called by way of distinction the
Osage Flagging-stone. It was originally
created for laying side-walks of, It can be
taken out of any required dimensions, say
eight feet square, is of a blue color, re
quires no dressing except squaring, and is
of a uniform thickness of about four
Inches.
You pass Newton, celebrated in its brief
day as a " hard" border-town. It is 64
miles west from Cottonwood Falls, and
184 from Atchison on the Missouri ; and
here begins the Arkansas Yalloy. You
can see the tall cottonwoods which mark
the stream on the horizon. Tho reader
must understand that we have not yet
quite reached the great river of the plains,
born in the western mountains and flowing
south-eastward to the Mississippi. This is
the Little Arkansas, nicknamed here "the
little river," which forms a confluence
with the "big river" at Wichita, 28 miles
south-west of tho spot to which, a moment
since we directed the roador's attention.
Here It will be noticed, the valley begins
to widen into immense scope, like an Illi
nois prairie. It is dark, rich and somewhat
sandy, though not so much so as to bo
perceptible to the casual observer. Leav
ing Wichita, a town of 2,500 people, and
now the terminus of the overland Texas
cattle-trade, 28 miles to the south, on a
branch of the main road, we pass almost .
directly westward, across the valley of tho
Little Arkansas. After passing tho stream
we cross a stretch of country which lias
between the two rivers north of their junc
tion. It is mainly level, and begins to have
some characteristics very different from
anything yet seen. In short, it is the
beginning of the great western plains,
useless two years ago, now discovered to bo.
rich, and in demand. It is the eastern
verge of what, for these twenty-five years,,
have been known as "the plains" very
much in the world now, as this railroad
closes up the immense gap, and brings tho- '
western mountains into view.
Passing over tho space between tho
Little and Groat Arkansas, in an hour or
more you reach Hutchinson, where the
railroad strikes the great valley, situated
at the south-eastern boginning of the much
talked of " great-bend of the Arkansas.
This is Uie Arkansas and "plains," with
out any doubt. Yet here is a town two
years old, containing about 800 inhabitants,
peaceable, thrifty, and in the midst of a
country marvelous in its growth, and al
ready famous for beauty and richness.
Hero, as some slight evidence of enterprise,
the Arkansas is spanned by a bridge 1,000
foot long. But the prominent features
are a fine school-house and county-buildings.
Leaving Hutchinson, you succes
sively arrive at the villages of Peace, Great
Bend, Lamed, Dodge City and lastly at
Sargent. There are other begiunings in
terspersed between, and these all lie on the
northern bank of the Arkausas. Finally,
the railway is turned slightly southward to
the new town of Grenada, on the south
side of the Arkansas, and this Grenada is
the shipping and receiving point of all the
immense trade which goes and comos by
way of the thickly-clustered settlements of
the Rio Grande Valley, in Now Mexico.
We thus end with the towns only to say
finally what this great Arkansas region
really is. Imagine a valley 280 miles long
and from four to twelve miles wide. This
is really "bottom" land. The soil is deep
and black. There is a peculiar underflow
of the stream, caused by a percolation of
its waters through a substrata of gravel
and coarse sand. The Arkansas is mountain-born
and snow-fed, and nearly always
full. A hole made almost anywhere in the
first bottom will become full of water. In
midsummer it is far enough south to be
considered pretty hot, but in winter, stock
live easily through with a small quantity of
hay, and thus far have gone through fat
upon the range alone. For corn, all the
cereals, tobacco and hemp, this valley is ad
mirably adapted. In extent in valuable
land it has not its peer among newly-open- -ed
regions. There are 8,000,000 aores here,
owned by the Atchison, Topeka and Santa
Fe Railway, and these are only the alter
nate sections. The goverment owns the
rest, open only to homestead and pre-emption.
This is what Mai the plains, the great
desert, now traversed in a railway car. It
is a standing wondor. The iron track has
supplanted all that was characteristic , of
the region, and changed all that pertained
to wildness. Far out toward Larned, 800
miles from the Missouri, the evidences of
this change are on every hand. The new
roofs of small houses can be counted in the
sunshine. There are black fields crossed
by rows of standing corn. In this first
year of its settlement, the Arkansas region
is more than self-supporting.
This is the new Kansas, and as you re
turn from the heart of the wilderness, you
wonder at the fact that wildnoss, solitude
and silence have vanished in a season like
the swallow, and reflect that in a single
decade the great region of the plains will
hold a population of wealth which will
almost equal and oountor balance the great
Mississippi Valley.
t35T A doctor recently died who was the
oldest medical man in one of the largest
Midland towns of England. The babies
ho had helped in early practice through
the perils of childhood had come to be
gray haired men; and one day, as tho
story goes, he bad an engagement with one
of these, a well known merchant. Tho
hour of engagement was long past, and
the doctor was pacing the floor of his study
when the gentleman came In with an apol
ogy on bis lips. " No matter, no matter!"
said the doctor, with an impatient wave of
the hand; " you are always behind. I re
member," said he, " thirty years ago, sit
ting for ten mortal hours in the littlo back
parlor of your father's house waiting for
you to be born. You are always behind
time."