THE TIMES, NEW BLOOM FIELD, PA. AUGUST 3. 1880. A Woman's Hens. 188 OilEY, if you don't keep lem hens out of my master's ground they'll all be shot, fur such Is hlg orders." ,' ,. i 1 Jacob llobbg, the gardener at Derrick Ijangholm's elegant Country place, did not give expression to his master's wishes In as gentle a (one Its he might have used had It been any one else whose hens were troublesome, but Eunice Grey what matter how he apoke to hett The woman leaned agalust the fence which separated her miserable little grounds from the flourUhlnir estate of the rich man, and listened quietly to the gardener's speech. Her face looked paler than usual this Warm spring day. Was It the heat or Some hitter recollec tion which had driven all color 'from cheek and Hp t Her eyes were red and swollen, perhaps from weeping, but more likely from too steady application to fine sewing by candlelight. Hbe was not a pretty woman, as seen in the searching light of the early morning; she was far too thin, pale, and sad look ing for beauty; but she had been a very jtretty girl before trouble robbed her of her bloom and gay spirits. ' Even now there was a nobility in the face and a curve to the lips whl'jh saved her from absolute plainness. In the times long gone by, people had said there was no atuile lovelier than that of Eunice Grey. l?ut she had almost forgotten how to -smile, her life had been bo bitter and vhard since her mother died. The house she lived in had once been sthe property of her aunt, who, when dying, had willed it to her. It was a naiail, frame building, old and leaky, and greatly out of repair, but Eunice did not complain. She was only too thank ful to own even this shelter, and she had learned to bear the ills of life with a jpatience born of despair. Shetook In Hewing, and sometimes went out by the day to do dressmaking, and lived quite aloue, her only companions the hens and a great black dog she had brought -with her when she first came to Chilton to live. " I am sorry, Jacob, that the hens :have done damage to your master's fruit -and flowers," she said, but she did not traise her eyes as Bhe spoke. " Then why don't you keep 'em at hoiue V" demanded Jacob crossly. " I will try to after this;' but they don't lay well when they are cooped up." u They won't lay at all when their necks are wrung," said Jacob, turning away, "and that'll be the end of 'em if you let 'em run in these gardens of master's." Eunice went into her dilapidated house, and took up her sewing again, which she had dropped to answer Jacob's call from the fence. , But she had taken only a few stitches in the fine cambric, when her hands fell idly in her lap, and a strange look came on her pale face. " Even now he will not let me alone," she muttered. "And yet he should be the one to suffer ; not I, who did no wrong." ' " She went to the sink in the kitchen, and bathed her head, which ached' with the painful thoughts which crowded on her brain. Then again she took up the cambric, which was to be fashioned Into a garment for Isabella Church's wed ding trousseau. That night the hens were all cooped p in a crazy affair of laths which Eunice herself had manufactured. The door was fastened with a stick run in the ground, and if it had not been for Bruno, there would have been no more worm hunting In Derrick Langholm's gardens. But the next morning the shaggy Newfoundland, in his migra tions about the yard, pushed the stick away with his nose, and, the door flying open, the hens flew out, and in ten minutes' time were in their forbidden haunts. Eunice, busily sewing on Isabella Church's trousseau, 1 knew nothing of he escapade, until a shadow darkened her doorway,' and a large, well-filled sack was thrown roughly on the floor. "You'll have to buy your eggs after this," said Jacob Hobb'a loud voice, "but then master's pistol has given you a chance to have chicken stew for many a day to come.'' A quiver passed over Eunice's lips, and a dark red flush dyed her forehead and lost . itself in . the ripples of her abundaut brown hair, but she did not speak or look up until the .man had gone, wondering at her silence. . Then she threw down her sewing, .and opened the sack. . One by one she drew out her twelve Uarge, gray hens, and fine cock, all bearing bloody marks on their, feathers. AH had their necks, .wrung after being shot. . .Jacob did not believe in half-way ieasures.' v , . .; ,. , , . " He shot jthem," she muttered ! . " he could not even leave me my hens.'.' For a few momenta she eat looking at he fowls in Bilence. . Then sprang to her feet with a fire In her eyes born of a sudden determination. She hurried Into her bedroom, and caught a faded shawl from a nail, wrap ping it around her head and shoulders. Bhe was shivering, but not with cold. A moment more and she was speeding Up the broad oak avenue leading to the elegant residence 6f hef enemy. She had vowed never to step on his grounds, never to look him in the face, but her wrong made her forget all else. Half-way up the avenue Hbe stopped suddenly, her face turning an aishy hue, her limbs trembling. Coming toward her, whistling gaily, was a tall, ' hand some man, of about thirty-seven years, the look of a born aristocrat stamped on his proud face. ' For one moment Eunice hesitated; she felt sick and weak, and would have turned aside and fied through the shrub bery, but for a sudden recollection of the past which stung her into courage. And as Derrick Langholm came up, she sprang directly In his path, facing him with her haggard, white face and wild eyes. ,".:'.'; He looked at her one instance in sur prise, thinking he had encountered a mad woman ; then the color faded from his face, too, leaving it as pale as the one on which he gazed, and he started back with a hoarse cry "Eunice I" f ' . " Yes, It Is Eunice! Are you not glad to meet her after a lapse of thirteen years V" ' " Thirteen years I" he 1 repeated in a dazed way. ' "It is a long time, is it notV You can scarcely remember, probably, the cruel wrong you did me, and yet you are not content with that; you must haunt me here." " Eunice, I never knew" She Interrupted him i " You could not let me live In peace in my little cottage even . now, you killed my hens." "Your hens I were they yours, Eu nice V I never knew who owned them. Jacob simply told me that he had given the woman to whom they belonged warnings without uumber. If I had known" " You want me to believe that you would have spared them for the sake of the past, Derrick Langholm, the past which has taught me how base and false men can be." " Forgive me, Eunice," the man cried, a ring of true emotion and repentance in his voice. " I have long seen how cruel and wicked I was ; but I believed you happily married long ago, and the whole thing forgotten." "Married I Who would marry me!" she said bitterly. ." The poorest laborer in Baslldown would have thought' him self too good for me. Forgotten I Could I easily forget what blasted my life and ruined my reputation I . And yet I was innocent I innocent!" . "Eunice, I never knew it was as bad as that! ' I never imagined any one hut your mother would know of it. Forgive me, Eunice, forgive me now I" "Never!" Bhe said, with trembling voice. " Women never forgive such wrongs." Then not daring to trust herself to say more, she turned from him and walked rapidly away through the shrub, bery. ' When she reached her cottage she sank on the floor exhausted, pressing her hand to her heart as if to stop ! Its wild throbbing. Sitting there, how vividly the past came back to her, its events as fresh in her mind as if thirteen hours instead of years had elapsed since their occurrence. Her widowed mother had idolized her, and strained every' nerve to give her an education that would fit her for teacher. . They were poor, but respected by every one, and It was not a matter of wonder to Eunice that Derrick Lang. holm, the handsome son of a rich father. should express himself willing to marry her. She was only seventeen, and believed implicitly in his vows of love and spurious promises, heeding not her indulgent mother's warnings that it was not safe to trust a stranger so fully. For Derrick had come to Baslldown only for a summer's sport in hunting and but little was known of him save that his parents were wealthy. At last the infatuated girl consented to an elopement which her lover urged was necessary in order that they should marry, for their union would be violent ly . opposed by his parents and her mother. But once away from Baslldown, once in the great city in which she had never before been, Eunice found out that her lover was unworthy her trust, for while professing to love her devotedly, and promising to be true to her forever, he declared their marriage to be an impossi bility. He was poor, he said, and his father would disinherit blm if at twen ty-four he committed such a 1 grave offence as marrying a girl beneath him in station and without a penny. ., After a long explanation the young wan left the hotel parlor for an , instant on an errand, and when he returned the bird had flown. He had not dreamed that she would attempt to leave him, but supposing that she had started to return home again, and that it would be useless to pnrsue her or try to win her back, he went to bis father's house, and from that day until the one on which he met her In the oak avenue of his estate at Chilton, he had not met her or known whether she was alive or dead. But, on leaving her lover, Eunioe did not return at once to Baslldown. Had she done so, the would have saved her self much misery, for her story, told after an absence of only twenty-four hours from the town, would have been believed. But she was ashamed to return, knowing well that her mother and friends were aware of her flight with Derrick Langholm ; so she staid in the city, working in a dressmaker's establishment, until three mouths had passed. Then she wrote to her mother, aud the answer she received was a sum mons from ail attending physician to that Indulgent mother's death-bed. A week later she was alone, with the terrible consciousness that her fully had hastened the termination of the disease from which her mother had long suffer ed. And no one credited the story of the wrong done her by Derrick Lang holm. They, her fellow-townspeople, believed the worst, and treated her ac cordingly. Her old friends shunned her, and even the children In the streets looked at her curiously as She passed by, as one over whom there hung a strange cloud. She lived thus for six years, but it was a great relief to her when her aunt died and left her the cottage at Chilton, to which she went at once with Bruno, her faithful dog friend. She did not know, until Bhe had taken possession of the place, that her nearest neighbor was the man whose selfishness had ruined her life. She thought she hated him, and despised herself for the strange thrill which passed through her heart whenever she caught a glimpse of him riding past her humble cottage. She had often wondered that he had never married, but when a rumor reach ed her that Isabella Church, the daugh ter of a country magnate, was to be his bride in the autumn, she burst into a frenzy of tears and sobs. Love is hard to kill, and poor 'Eunice, though she knew it not, still, woman-like, loved the man who had been the cause of all her suffering. The day following that strange meet ing in the avenue, Jacob Hobbs brought to the cottage a dozen hens which his master had sent to make good the loss his pistol had caused. Sorely puzzled as Jacob had been to understand his mas. ter'B changable conduct, he was still more mystified by the strange behavior of Eunice, who positively and very emphatically refused to receive the fowls, and bade him carry them back to his master without delay. Then Mr.' Langholm himself came, thinking it best to patch up a truce with this woman whom he now knew he had injured far more than he had lm aglned ; but Eunice saw him coming, and shut and bolted her door in bis face. The spring drifted into summer, and in July, Derrick Langholm went to the city to visit a medical friend to whom he was much attached. He visited the hospitals, and through his own careless uess and imprudence, caught a disease which came near costing him his life. He was not aware of the infection until after his return to Chilton, when he was taken ill with that dread disease, the smallpox. The servants left the infected house like rats a burning building, and not one of the rich man's boasted friends would venture near his bedside. Only the doctor was by him, and a nurse could not be found in all the town wil ling to risk her life or good looks by undertaking the case. Dr. Hammond drove to a neighboring town, and made a thorough search for a nurse there, but without Buccess. He returned to Chilton, thinking he would have to telegraph to the city for help but when he entered the palatial rest denoe of the sick man, he found his patient In. cool, clean bed, his head bound up in ice cloths, and a sad-eyed woman fanning him gently. "Eunice Grey! you are the only woman in Chilton who has a heart,' cried the enthusiastic little doctor. " I am the only woman in Chilton who has nothing to lose by nursing small-pox patient," she said quietly. You have your life," said the doc tor. , But she made no answer to this re mark, only bent bo low over the sick man that her face was not seen. Derrick Langholm came very close to that r,lver over ; which we all must pass sooner or later ; but to the joy ; of his nurse he did not die, was not even pitted, thanks to her unwavering care and vigilance. ' The doctor told him that he owed bis life to Eunice, and Derrick smiled strangely in reply, P rom that time he followed the move mentg of his quiet nurse with thought ful eyes, and was fretful and Impatient If she left him alone at all. She never made the slightest allusion to the naat. and neither did he. In fact, she never spoke to him at all when it could be avoided. i When' he was nearly well, and the house was thoroughly disinfected, gome of the servants came hack, and then Eunioe prepared to go. She put on her shawl and bonnet, and went to the library where Derrick sat in an easy chair. "Are you going out, Eunice!1" he asked, as she entered the room. " I cau't bear to spare you even for half an hour." " I am going to my own home," she answered. " I am needed here no longer. Good-by." . , . She was about to leave the room, when be called her back. " Eunice, come here to me." " I want no thanks ; I have only done my duty," she said, pausing at the door. " I am not going to thank you." And he rose from his chair, and went close to her, taking her hand In his. She turned ghastly pale, and bent her gaze on the carpet at ' her feet. What could he be about to say ' " Eunice, I once did you a cruel wrong ; I never knew how great it was until a little while ago when you told me of your sufferings. Will you let me atone for it as far as I can ?" "There can be no atonement," she Bald bitterly. " Not complete, perhaps," he answer ed sadly. " But let me do what I can to make you forget the past, Eunice." How can I forget it? What can you do to bury It ?" she asked. , " I can make you my wife, Eunice." "Your wife!" she repeated hoarsely. ' But Isabella Church is" " Is to marry my friend, Dr. Blake of the city," he Interrupted. "I visit her often on his account, and this rumor has connected our names; but you are the only woman I care to marry, Eunice." "You love me!" she murmured brokenly. " I love you as you deserve to beloved, Eunice. You have been an angel of goodness to me. Forget and forgive, dearest. Raise your eyes, that I may read in them that you will be my dear wife." For an instant she hesitated, then did as he desired. In those large brown eyes there was now no sadness, no despair ; they were as brilliant and joy ous as of old. And Derrick Langholm caught their owner to his heart in a burst of love and happiness. To ber his atonement was complete. A Puzzled Young Fellow. A family living in Nashville has a parrot noted for its wonderful powers of imitating the human voice. The family also has a daughter whose especial duty is the care of the parrot. The young lady has a young man, a recent addition to Nashville society. The young man called at the house of his lady love one evening and pulled the door-bell. The parrot, Bitting in an up stairs window, heard the jingle of the bell and called out, " Go to the window I " The young man was startled. He looked at all the windows below and found them closed. He pulled the, bell-knob again. "Next door!" shouted the parrot in a voice not unlike the young lady's. The young man looked up and down the street in a puzzled sort of way as if it had suddenly dawned upon his mind . that be had made a mistake in the house. Conclud ing that he bad not, he again rang the bell. "Go to the house!" cried Poll from his perch in the upper window, " What house?" exclaimed the young man, angrily. "The workhouse! shrieked the parrot. The young man left in rapid transit time. His Indian Wife. There are few instances of devotion that prove the existence of love in higher degree than that given by Kit Carson's Indian wife to her brave and manly lover. While mining in the West he married an Indian girl, with whom be lived very happily. Wben he was taken ill, a long way . from borne, word was sent to his wife, who mounted a fleet mustang pony and traveled hun dredsof. miles to reach him. Night and day she continued her journey, resting only for a few hours on the open prairie, flying on her wonderful little steed as soon an she could get up; ber forces anew.. She forded rivers, she scaled rocky passes, and waded through morasses, and finally arrived just alive, to find ber huabaud better. Bat the exposure and exertion killed her.' She was seized with pneumonia and died within a brief space In her husband's arms. The shock killed Kit Carson, the tugged miner ; be broke a blood vessel, and both are buried In one grave. JUSSER & ALLEN i t, CENTRAL STORE NEWPORT, TENN'A. . No efTerthe publle ' A RAKE AND ELEOANT ASSORTMENT OH DRESSGOODS Consisting sf all shades suitable for the season BLACK ALPACCA8 - v AND Mourning Goods ' A SPECIALITY. BLEACHED AND UNBLEACHED MUSLINS, !::..; AT VARIOU8 PRICES. , , AN ENDLESS SELECTION OF PRINTS! We sell and do keep a good quality of SUGARS, COFFEES & SYRUPS. And everything under the head 6t GROCERIES 1 Machine Needles and oil for all makes of iuaomnes. To be convinced that our goods are CHEAP AS THE CHEAPEST, IS TO CALL AND EXAMINE STOCK. 9V No trouble to show goods. Don't forget the CENTRAL STORE, Newport, Perry County, Pa. is LISDSET'S BLOOD SEARCHER Is rapid! acquiring a national reputation for the cure of Scrofulous AfTect Ion, Cancerous Formation. Erysipelas, Bolls, l'lmples. Ulcer, wore Eyes. Scald Head. Tetter, Salt Kheum. Mercurial and afl Skin Disease. This remedy Is a Vegetable Compound, and cannot harm the most tender Infant, Ladles who Buffer from debilitating diseases and Female Com- Dla ntB. Will find nuwtflv rallnf .lain.. .1.1. edy. C. W. Llncott. of Mesopotamia, O.. says It cur ed him of Scrofula of thirty years. Two bottle curBu mrs. is. J. mines, ol Uoltax. Ind., of ulcer ated ankle and big neck. Lindner's Blood Search- Larimer Station. Pa. The BLOOD SEARCHER I the safest, surest and most powerful purifier ever known. . Price tl.liOper bottle. R. K. SELLERS ft CO.. Prop're, Pittsburgh, Pa. To Regulate The Liver. Use only SELLERS' LIVER PILLS, the best and only true Liver Regulator. Established over 60 years. They cure Headache, Biliousness, Cost iveness, Liver Complaint, fever and Ague, and all similar diseases like magic. Get the right kind. Sellers' Liver Pills, 2a cents. The great worm destroyer! SELLERS VER MIFUGE. "Expelled 400 worms f i om mv clidd. two years old.. Wm. Sarver, St. Louis, Mo. Bold "by druggists. Price 25 cents eh. R. E. SELLERS Hi CO., Proprietors, Pittsburgh, Pa. Send for circulars. 40 ly. NOTICE! THE undersigned would respectfully call the ' attention of the citizens of Perry county tbat he has a large and well selected stock of HARDWARE, GROCERIES, DRUGS. WINES & LIQUORS, . . IRON. NAILS, HORSE and MULE SHOES, STEEL, IRON AXLES, SPRINGS, SPOKES, HUBS, FELLOES. SHAFTS. POLES ft BOWS. . BROOM HANDLES. WIRE, TWINE3.&C. ALSO. Paints, Oils, Glass, Plaster, and Cement. -. ' ' SOLE, CALF, KIP and UPPER LEATHER, FISH. SALT, SUGARS, SYRUPS, TEA8. SPICES. TOBACCO, CIGARS, aud SMITH COAL. Jobs Lucas & Co'., ' " ' ' MIXED FAIXTS, (ready lor use.) The best Is the CHEAPEST.. And a large variety of goods not mentioned, all of which were bought at the Lowest Cash Prices, and he oilers the same to his Patrons at the Very Lowest Prices for Cash or approved trade. His motto Low prices, and Fair dealings to all. Go and see blm. . Respectfully, 8.M.BHCLER. . Liverpool, Perry Co. Pa. POTJTZ'S HORSE AND CATTLE POWDERS Will MM or n.HMi Ho Horn will 4ia or Couo, Bora or Lira Fa vaa.ll toolrt Powder are aaedlallmo. i aatae Powder will on and travest Hoe Cnuu Jooo- Powder will rarest SirmiKvui wuPowdei will tacreeee the quantity of aulK ad cream tweaxj par cent, aud aiu IM buuar arm . tad weal. , Poaua PowoVr will nn or nwml alaaoat rrur Onuaa to wtuca Uoe aad Caitta are aultfw. 71- ""a U SITS 6j.?1Uciiu. . iAU K, rotm, ProiwIvtoT. , . BaXTUtUJUK, Hi. For Sale by 8. & Smith, New BtoomBeM Perry County, Pa, . 4 1 j TIB Boo Life
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