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About The Lebanon express. (Lebanon, Linn County, Or.) 1887-1898 | View Entire Issue (June 9, 1893)
WEN MELINDY TOl ME YES, Jent tw wwHks troiii my till Tall out wltii my firm BWiiKi hwitri, 'Lnclinty, Dili Mullmiy. my Mullmty. lull iiih "Ym;v Ap' the titimw!iari? wna wliuly 'way from Pukitmvlllt to Imly. WtiKly with tiiu brntwy mmv of etflrrim ll(!P()ll tlHHB, An' Bhomihl It ftiir an' Hijuttrely. an' nm "Cai attain" or "May Im." Ao'n New .icniHuhtm jtlnry lit the (tol an wfliUtniBMH j Aa1 the nun hum. out like laughter on the round fm of a halty, Weu Mulimly, my Mullmly, tol' me "Yeal" Liken twenty million oruhestra away buyout! all ominflii", The IwhMliikrt Imhbletl over In am uh to water fall, . An' I folt Jent Hkb a-mouiittn' on the meet In lioime an' uhoutln' That Huratlitw wan open, with aclmliwlon free loall. JCach tfrtWH blade In the mmliler wug n HtrtiiK to Natur'n fUltlli, Thot wan played on by thuwjphyrn wltb a vol-" voty earns; An' ol' Nutur's Jlntn were Umbered, an' the sashayed down the middle, Weu Moll nd y, my Molhitiy, tol' mo "Yeal" An' tbe angiilH played to bully thot tbe tuunle reached tin; gateway An catim aiillllit' through tbe op'nln, and a-sliigln' down to uarth- Oftme a-aliighr mtuh a great way tbet the uni verse Wilis Htratuhtway Shoti tin' In the glad redem'tlon of a boty etson' birth; An' I I net a-st raddle on tbe ridice pole of cre ation, An only Itt to holler in my bootlu' bappi nene, Wen Mullndy, uiy Melludy. filled my heart 'lib Jtihllatloii, Weu Melludy, my Mellndy, tol1 m Tee!" -Yankee Blade. UNDER A CLOUD. i am Agnes Grey; or at least that was my name when one bright summer day. the sky as blue as though there never could be anuther cloud in it, I came home across the HeldB from Nellie fiobart's wedding. Very sweet bIid looked in her bridal drew, and very fond the gentle man to whom she had given her hand seemed to be of her. The church was decked with Mowers, and not one of those whosat there but wished the pretty young creature well; and as she stepjied out from the shadow of the painted windows into the clear, golden, out of door light 1 thought of the old rhyme Happy Is lliu Iiriile WllOUl LhU HlHI HlllllHH Oft. And thought that she looked like one of those fair saints the old musters were so fond of painting, blue eyed and blond, and with .mouths like those of smiling babies. i thought of something else, also, as I suppose every girl who bad been to that wedding did, could one but know the truth. I wondered whether it would ever be my turu to stand where Nellie stood that day, and what manner of man my bridegroom would be; for 1 hud never yet seen any one I could fancy giving myself to, almost budy and Boul, as a wife must, I was making a picture of him for myself, like a goose, when my foot caught in the grass, where some boys had tied it, and down 1 fell, twist ing my ankle and hurting my head.-so that fur awhile 1 knew nothing. At last 1 folt some one lift ine off the ground, and opened my eyes to see that it was a great, swarthy, blaok eyed girl of seventeen or so a girl with a carelesB look about hor dress which was not lady like. But she had the voice and manner of a lady, and she asked me very kindly if 1 were much hurt; and, seeing that I was, picked me up in her strung arms and carried me through a garden gate and into a little parlor, where she laid me on a sofa and bathed my head with rose water and told me to keep up my courage, for "Gideon has gone for a doc tor." That name told me where 1 was. I was under a roof that I had never thought would shelter me, no matter what would come to pass. 1 would have risen and gone away if 1 could have atirred from the odd old sofa. For this was Gideon bee's old homestead, and here dwelt the children of the man who. sixteen years before, had been hung for the murder of uiy Uncle Mathew. 1 was but a baby when it ull happened, butl could remember how the whole Tillage was astir in search of the miss ing man, and how a body was found at last in the heart of Aloott's woods, and how the facts that there had been a quarrel betweeu Gideon Lee and Uncle Mathew, and that Gideon Lee owed the latter money, and how they were last seen together quarreling in Gideon's garden, where a bloody handkerchief, marked "M. U.," was found soon after and brought Gideon to the gallows. Perhaps heaving the story afterward from my grandfather made me fancy 1 remembered it, but at all events the name 1 had learned to hate was that of Gideon Lee. And now it was the child born on the day of her mother's death the very day on which the father met his awful fate who lifted me from the ground, dusky Madge Lee, who had sever found a playmate nor a friend in the town because of the ban upon her father's name, and Gideon, the son, who had been old enough to understand it all at the time, who came in with old Sr. Humphries soon after. They were not poor people. The house was a substantial one, and there were more books and pictures and tokens of refinement within than country homes generally boast of. But even the farm hands Bpoke contemptuously of the "son of the man who was hung," and the serv ants who were hired by Madge Lee were not natives of the place. And here was 1, Mathew Grey's own niece, lying under the roof, and likely to bejhere for some tune, for the doctor forbade my removal. j "1 must go liuiHn I must go awuv from thin housel" I said, angrily and , feverishly. : , And Madge Le looking down on me , as an Indian priucesa wipit, with her dark eyes aglow, mud, In a ultter voice. "Never fear, Minn Grey, - I not mur der youl" and somehow cashed me. haughty as 1 was, Grandpa was away from home, or 1 , think even the risk of my life would not have kept In in from taking me home, land I grew iii and delirious, and Madge Lee nursed me as a sister might, and Gideon was kinder than a brother. He read to mo; he brought me cooliug drinks made of fruits after some Oriental rec ipes which he possessed; he found sweet flowers dripping with dew in the woods, and he sang, as I never heard any one sing before, those Scottish balladB that are lovelier than any other musio ever written, to my mind; and it ended in my loving them So when I was well enough to go away I took Madge's band in mine and said. "How shall I ever thank yon for your tender care of me?" And she answered, "Agnes Grey, the nly gratitude I ask is belief in us. The people dowu there'' (and she pointed with her brown hand toward the town) "call us the children of a murderer, We are the children of a martyr instead. 1 never saw my father, hut we both know that hels innocent. And Gideon remem bers Mb kindness, his tenderness, his gen tleness and his honor "Your uncle Mathew forgive me, bat it is the truth was a wild, bad fellow. He quarreled with my father, not father with him, and the debt was paid. Mother saw it done, and beard him boast that the money should take him beyond the roach of irksome laws and chattering tongues. And for the bloody handker chief, he had cut bis hand, and unbound and washed it, and tied it up afresh in mother'B very sight that day. Don't dare to doubt it; don't be so cruel as to doubt it, Agnes Grey," Then she brought me the picture that they kept as a sacred relic, and verses written by his hand and tender love let ters yellow with age, and as 1 looked at the face so sweet, so good, bo like that of the Gideon Lee 1 knew 1 felt sure that those who stood before me, though they were the children of the man who was hung, were not the offspring of a murderer And afterward Gideon also spoke. "It is hard to bear," he said; "hard to know that we must bear it all our lives; but if yon only see the truth if only, without proof, yon will understand that we know no murder was ever done by I our dear father's hand we, who have 1 his pictured face upon the wall, the let- I tors written to our mother, the wori our mother wrote begging us to read them often when she was dead, and never doubt the mau who on his knees in the condemned cell, calling on God to witness his last words, had sworn to the , grazed in the meadow and Rover's ken wife who would have loved him even : nel was empty. The sight brought tears bad he in some basty moment oeart a fatal blow, that he knew nothing of Mathew Grey's death and even doubted that he was dead at all if you can believe with us and not with those who were his murderers, I. at least, shall have a lighter heart.' And 1 put my hand Into his, and gave the other to Madge, and said honestly, "1 do believe as you do, and 1 always will" And so I went away; but 1 took their faces with mo, their pleasant ways, their voices. As tor Gideon b tace, it haunted me. There was about him a charm that no one else ever had. They were all quaint, all charming in their way, but he most of all A pretty scandal there was through the town when I began to go down to the farmhouse to see my friends. 1 knew it, and fought it bravely. "Gideon Lee never killed any one," 1 Vowed aloud to those who eluded me, "I will not ban his children for the fault of others." But there In the town were those who had been at the trial, and eleven of the jurymen and witnesses; and under a stone in tho graveyard were the bones that had been sworn to as Uncle Muthew's, and in a bleak, lonely spot bear the prison the coffin of the man who Was hung; and how dared 1, a baby al most at the time, to judge for myself. I knew they were right enough, but I never faltered, i was as sure as Madge Was that her father never killed Uncle Mathew. , They would not come to my home. Indeed, grandfather would have had the door closed in their faces, but nothing oould keep me from them, And it was dangerous work for me, too, as I began grown to be a magnificent waman to know before long, to sit bo much by Madge, who kissed me as of yore, but Gideon Lee's side, to hear his dear voice more gladly, and who left me in a nio o Often, to feel my heart thrillingtwith nent alone with Gideon and drew the a loving pity for him for which I had no stranger away with her. Words. He was my wounded and des- I And Gideon held my hand, and I could pised knight, this dear Gideon Lee, be- ' only eay,"It has been very long, Gideon," fore I bad known him throe mouths, and and try and hide my tears. 1 would have- given my life for him. But he said no words of love to me nor 1 to him. JnstfriendB we were, and noth ing more, outwardly. That was enough for the town enough for grandfather. I was called unnatural. 1 found my dearest friends grown cold. Even the clergyman -asked tne if "it would not harm me to hold companionship with Buoh people," ' ' And 1 said: "They are the best people I have ever known. And even had their father done the deed for which he died, they would be no worse for it As it is he was murdered, and you are all cruel to these poor children of his cruel and unchristian. ' So he left me unfitly, and so many a friend left me, and all my comfort was to eit between Madge and Gideon in the qmet evenings arm taia to mem. In the snmmer time we used to light no candles, and the moonlight fell through the Ivy leaves upon ns, and the old dog lay at our feet and put his curly head unon Madge's lap.. We would tell "tories of fairies and goblins or sing re mantie songs written before any of us were born. Now and then Gideon would steal his arm about my waist or hold my hand awhile, and wrong though any one might have thought there was no more harm in it than though we had been children. Just so we were sitting one evening, when grandfather walked into our midst and clutched me fiercely by the arm. No need to repeat the words he uttered. The insults stung me as sharply as they could Gideon Lee's children. But he forbadetne ever to speak to them again and took me home with him. The last glimpse 1 caught of the broth er and' sister showed them to be stand ing hand in hand, their fingers clutched tight, their teeth set, their faces white with wrath tinder the moonlight, it was my last glimpse for many years, for the day after this we Bailed for Can ada. Grandfather was a Canadian, and it was partly to revisit his native land and partly to put the ooean between the Lees and me that he took the voyage. But he could not tear my heart from them. I loved them better than any people I ever met; most of all I loved Gideon. But 1 never heard of him or from him, nor could 1 guess whether he lived or died, remembered or forgot me, for three long years. ' ' At the end of that time mygraud fathei died, and I, his heiress, returned to my native land a rich woman and my own mistress, though this was the codi cil to the wilt that left me all: "I, Henry Grey, having cause to fear that my beloved grandchild is easily misled by artful persons, and 1b not guileful enough to understand their guile, do, for her own welfare, add this proviso, That, should she ever give her hand in marriage to the son of the mur derer of my son, Matthew Grey, all claim upon the moneysand estates above bequeathed her shall be forfeited, and said property go, without reserve, to the Hospital of St. Martha, to be ased by the trustees of said institution as they see fit." But, despite this codicil, i went down into the valley in which Gideon Lee'H homestead stood before 1 had been at home a day It was sunset when I reached it, but the light did not as of yore gild the paues of tbe upper win- dows to sheets of burnished gold. Every shutter was closed and the bouse Beeined to frown upon me. The garden had run wild; the fields lay desolate; the broken branches of the orchard trees told of boyish depredation. Strange cattle to my eyes, 1 went up the old porch and found there, wet with rain and tangled in the relics of last year'B vine, a acarlet ribbon, one Madge must have worn, 1 put it in my bosom and came away. No one could tell me anything of Gideon Lee's children, .except what the empty house had idd me that they were gone. ( had lost them: and what did 1 care that all the country place besides wel- corned me home? Gideon's smile would : have .been more to me than all their greetings, and Madge would have given I me a kiss that had true love iu it. I was not happy, 1 could not be gay. I could not care for anything veryrauch. I lived a quiet life for two long years, and, let thosecall me cold and proud who I would, 1 was not cold, but those who courted me were Gideon Lee's enemies, I and had persecuted pretty Madge since ' her very birth, and had done their inno cent father to death, and I hated them , for it, though 1 said nothing. But at last, one bright morning, walk ing up the road to look at the desolate , dwelling where 1 had learned to love Gideon Lee's children, 1 saw a change in it. The windows were open; a man was at work in the garden. Three fig ures in traveling costume had just en tered the porch and a carriage stood at the gate. I knew Gideon's tall figure at a glance, but who was this superb, glowing, beau tiful, with a look of triumph on her face who came toward me? And who was that old man with the strange, sar castic smile, that I fancied I had seen before? As 1 advanced I knew that it was Madge who ran to meet me Madge, "It has been long for me, Agnesl" he said. And then there was a pause. He broke it by kneeling down beside me, with my hands in his as i set on the low step of the porch. "You are Miss Agnes (reyt he said, "and the world honors yon. 1 am the ion of the man who was hanged, Even now. loving you as 1 do as I have all this weary while that stands between us, a barrier you could not cross. Is It not so? Were 1 all else, and so worthy of you, I should still be Gideon Lee, and an outcast, branded with Cain's brand upon the forehead, and you oould neither love nor wed mel" Could 1 say "1 love you?" It was not I in maidenhood to do that. It was im possible. 1 trembled; 1 faltered; 1 only An Antroiogist Cau tiie Horoscope of Lis said these words; "It is an unjtiBt brand j Honlon. unjust and cruel. My eyes never see I The Sew York World has "cast" what , it, Gideon Lee I" , , 1 the illiterate sometimes call the "horror- He showered fond kisses on my hands. I scope" of Borden-tliat is, It has but he spoke again. : astwlogb to do so- . r. . a Z ... a : a and the result Is a horrible horoscope in- Do you dare to do it, Agnes-to love The 9 Bo rfhe WorW ' wag an outcast man; to bring upon yourself vea &n tho detaii of Uzlie,t birtMay contempt and hate; to relinquish wealth mi tacts reqired by the profession,' ior wie uuinuie uie oi a Bunyie huuibk Is your love strong enough for this? j Will you never repontr "Never," I said, "When' your gold is gone, your land ViAAa ,-.Il rt another s, your friends turned to ene- mies and your name, your very name, Agnes that of the man who was hang- ! edT he asked slowly. "Thinkl can you bear that ignominy? I know how ter- ribleitis." i And i took my hands from his and laid them on his broad shoulders and . , , , , , , -3i said-but no matter what 1 said I have forgotten the words that told him that i loved him too well to doubt my courage to bear anything for his dear sake. . But suddenly, as he knelt there look- ing up into my eyes, 1 saw a look in his face that 1 could not underBtand-a look u m Komn t that made me cry out and begin to tremble! and I saw others draw near; and 1 saw Madge clasp her brother's hand, and the old man held out both of histome. "We have been parted five years," Baid Gideon. "In that time J have been searching for something that 1 believed must be hidden in the wide world. I have touna it. "Gideon, tell me, I cried. "Could any earthly thing but one em- bolden me to speak as I have spoken to you?" said Gideon. "Do you think that I would ever have offered any woman a tu. .m , uM name that would have made her an ou cast? That which I sought, that which I found, was a living proof of my dear father's innocence. Look! do you know this man? Have you no recollection of him?" And 1 turned my eyes upon the old man, who had taken my hand in his, and knew that 1 looked upon my uncle tj. r J ml 't , The whole town knows the story now. He has told them how, yielding to his wandering impulses, he left, as he had done once before, the home and friends of his early manhood, and far from all news of Christian lands dwelt inthe Arab's tent upuu the desert and wan- A , v, i ; dered with him over the burning sands loving the hie too well to leave it, aid never hearing of Gideon Lees nnjjst condemnation, or of his terrible fate, until his son stood before him and bade him, if one drop of Christian pity lingered in his soul for tbe man on whom he had brought this awful doom, to return and prove by his living presence the fact of his innocence and of his unjust death. . ,11. now as ol thowe of a martyr; and the ban is lifted from the name that 1 have taken for my own. Buffalo News. ' Tho Ancient Mines of Laurium. United States Consul Manatt, at Athens, in a recent report on Greek min- , . t n , ing and metallurgy, enters into the his- . . , v J . tory of the subject in an interesting manner. The mines of Laurium, now worked for zinc, lead and iron, are, he says, the very mines from which Themistocles drew the silver supply to fit out his fleet and beat back the Persian invader at Salamis (490-480 B. C), and so to lay the - , , . . tl . , J foundations of the Athenian hegemony. More than tlns.it is thought probable that the Phoenicians delved here before the.Greeks came, as they are known to have done in the Island of Thasos. At any rate, Thoricus was a free city before Theseus welded the Attic bor - oughs into a single commonwealth (that , ? , . , , u, is to say, before the name of Athens ap- peared in history) and its importance must have been due to the mines; so that the mining industry at Laurium may possibly boast an origin as remote as thirty centuries back, while it is again in full blast today. In walking through the French com pany's great mine at Camaresa, in the heart of the Laurium region, one tra verses here a gallery in active exploita tion for zinc and lead and hard by an other worked out by the old Greeks two or three thousand years ago. These an cient works are among the most inter esting monuments of Hellenio civiliza tion. . ' Nearly All tbe Veterans Gone. In 1867 Napoleon III can ted a medal to be struck hi honor of the veterans of the first republic and the first empire. It was called the St. Helena medal, and was only conferred on those old soldiers who had served under French colors between 1798 and 1815 and for a period of at least two years. In the year 1809 this decoration was in the possession of no less than 48,593 vet erans, and now, according to the German Militar-Wochenblatt, the total has dwin dled to IS. In 1877 the number had sunk to 10,640, in 1880 there were 4,024 survivors, and in 1890 only 48 wornout old men re mained to answer any mortal roll call. Of the 13 veterans who are yet with us ftien who have actually seen 'le petit cor poral" face to facethe youngest was born In 1800 and the eldest on July 28, 1786. He is therefore KHJ years old. He lives in a hos pital for veterans at Lyons. He served with Napoleon in Egypt and marched with him Over the Great St. Bernard. He took part in the peninsular war and the fatal retreat from Moscow. Five times wounded in Rus sia, he carries one of the bullets in his body still. His battles and bruises ended at Wa terloo, where he served with the imperial zuard. FOR SUPERSTITIOUS READERS. nut was Kept in ignorance ol tne name ana present condition cf the person to be horo- scoped. Afterstudying her charts and findingthe portions of un, m, planets, ete, on the iawi oi Lizzie Dinu uie seeress wasnurn .fled r,(u8pdt0 on tm assured that : ,h vMt0 M n nerMnal Interest in the Mm,. ..r jj .v.. mrwa. "a m-ent. deal of trouble in this life-trouble in the home trouble everywhere. ThiB woman is a very peculiar person not like other women. She is true, loyal to those Bhe is ' anso ute.y reien less , raose sue dislikes and distrusts. Her life seems to hav(J been blagted Iike the buds on s tree which fr08t ha8 A11 the gtomjg md troubles which have swirled about her since she was 15 years old seem to have united to destroy her in 1892. "It has been a terrible year to her. Inthe nmmep-July, I should say-there was a in some sort of a cataa- trophe which seems to be the misery climax ,, xTn.Hn m J hofa.ii km ht th infl , .whh w. a. w as she lives. It does not, however, af- feet her as it would an ordinary woman, ..though she suffers much niorethananyone knows. You see, the outer woman has to j be superior to the inner one. She is com-; Vi to seem better than she is. This , makes another struggle. So far any one familiar with the case could go, but the seeress went on to tell Lizzie's future: "This woman must die 8ud-; 1 im7 and by her own hand. I see her in prison suffering for some one else. She could go out if she would speak, but sh does not, she cannot, although she is al-; : i ways conscious that a few words would I her ghe gllCm sientl for anotherJ In igtnr that other will die. and jtiat before' that every cloud clears from this horoscope. I But it will be too late she will have gone."j "You spoke of a sudden and violent death, Can you say more?" ... . "It was written from the first that she EU't die of steel and by her own hand, Jhi 1b the only crime of her life, but I see her accused of many. Perhaps she con-i sented to some of them, but her hand is only ifted against herself-to end a blasted ijfa. She will never see another birthday." The seeress absolutely refused to make a written report of the horoscope and pledged The World's representative, a woman re-! porter, to never reveal what she said to the' subject In conemdmg she shuddered and, , declared that there was mora suffering in thiscasethaa in anyshe had ever exam-' So now we know what Lizzie's fate! fa to be, if the astrologist is to be relied on. t TAME, BUT DANGEROUS : j; The Story of a Mountain Lion That Knew Its Master. The author of " A Ride Through Wonder-' land" says that she was invited when in Colorado to visit a hunter's store and see a mountain lion, the only one, as Its owner , . , . . , . . ' . , asserted, which had ever been tamed. It was in a little back room, chained to an iron staple in the floor, round which it was pacing, uttering low growls. j It appeared very much like a small pan-: ther, and seemed anything but tame, snarl-: J at lonSf t0 P inaweof its master, however, and cowed - .,.! i i..i ,v,; u down every time he cracked Ins whip. He made it do several tricks with a retriever dogi which did not seem to like the t.it.k . very well, ' "Come and kiss Miss Pussy," said the ; man, and the dog went np to it, laid a paw ' nP0B its neck mi Ucked its face.' ' The masto th.a put a piece of meat on ."iv iefgtw. 3,. He doesn t ciu-e tor this part, was nia mmmmti ..slle has had him by the throat once 0r twice. Just look at her iron paws! One blow would lay you dead as mutton. What, you brute, you would, would' your" I Miss Pussy had tried to gnaw his boot and needed to be lashed off . I "Did you ever take her out?" . .'. , 1 "oh- J"?'." wit,h '! the mountains sometimes. I take her chain1 off when Wro out of the towD( but Vmt precious oaivful to follow her and never let her step behind mel" , , 1 . The Panama Swindlers. The scandal in connection with the Panr-I ama canal has been the subject of many: newspaper articles. The persons charged; with fraud are now lodged in the Mazasi prison at Paris, On their complaining of j cold and of the regulation hammock on, their arrival they were moved from the1 MAZAS PE1SON, ground to the first floor, which is drier J and allowed to improve their beddiog. The cells are heated to 60 degrees, andtheao-j cused are permitted light throughout the night at their own expense after 9. Dp to the present their reading has been confined i to Jules Verne's novels, supplied from the ! prison library. They obuim their food! from the prison canteen, but a certain quantity of wine from their own cellars is allowed them. . M. Cottu has specially prepared coffee brought him daily. haliy M. Charles de Lesseps has the use of; an elaborate toilet bag. , life Blii