The Cedarville Herald, Volume 13, Numbers 1-21

The CedarvilleHerald. W. H. BLMR. HaNUhtr. CEDARVILLB. i j i OHIO, OUR DEAD. I chanced, one/ sun-lit summer day, to stroll Amid tbe busy silence of llio woods And In tbo shelter of the sturdy oak, I saw p feathered pair and blrdllnga four, A^d marked their happy life. I wept th a t way again. The w lpterw lnd Moaned thro' tholeafless boughs. ThAir strains of sadness cblllod my heart, I tho’t . tbc-plghlng branches walled a funeral dirge, And grlsylng mourned th e d e a d ,' . How aad, 1 thought; the happy birds are dead, Their Bongs.wlll cheer no more. How changed i t seemed—th a t little house of sticks— The life all gone, It lost the power to thrill, T hat now the birds were deud. ■ H it, farther musing, I remembered then T h at birds had gone before. Ant* tho’ I saw them not, nor board th eir songs, I knew they wore not dead; but happy living on In stlnny southland woods. B ut when tho winter's cold is done tbo oak Will cease its moaning then. . I t shall not thus uubeeded ever stretoh Its pleading arms. The birds will oome again And 1UI the empty bests. Weep not for loved ones gone—for summer’s birds— Nor mourn to have them back, To want and suiter In this winter w orldj. L at them awhile in sunny southlands live ( The winter o’er we meet again. Think bow a Saviour wept a Lazarus gone, • And-wept for what—him dead? ■ Ah, not Ho knew too well what he would do: :| I think he wept th at one from Heaven’s bliss Must soon to earth return. —T. B. Edwards, In Interior. Tprrr" h ' i —— OHAPl’ER VI.—CONTINUED. “I have a good deal of patience, 01" ive,” sold her plover, lifting his eye­ brows. “I will remind you that if we always hod to stop and eorisidelFthe in- • teresta of the stupid ones we should never advance at all. Rut I won’t argue with you! It is always waste of timo to argue with a woman.., ; I have got to think and act, my dear, and your part is to.trust me and enjoy the fruits of my toil.. Most people would say that you had no reason to complain of your lot. Some would go so far as to call you a very lucky girl.” “And they would be quite right, dear,” she cried, resting a gentle hand upon his arm. “Don’t think that I do not appreciate all your energy and pluck—don’t think that I tun not grate­ ful for.your willingness to work for me. Only—only: I am sure we shall be all the happier if we can honestly tell ourselves that no one Is any the worse for our success.’* tie laughed, a little Indulgent laugh. 'Ry and by, when wo have reached out goal, we shan't remember the- ob­ stacles that we cleared away from our path.” he said gayly. “You talk very prettily, Olive; I am pleased-to hear you express yourself so well. But- Jatcr on, when you have plenty of mon­ ey to_flpend ea dresses a'hd knlck* knacks, you. won’t sing, the same song. You will give to charities, of course, and buy things at bazaars, and patron­ ize concerts, and that is all that can bo reasonably expected of you.” So did not see her disappointed look. She had turned her face away, and was gazing across tho park with grave, sad eyes. She had dreamt of a life that was to be lived with him—a life full of deep meaning and brave cifort, a life that was not made up of show and self- seeking. Perhaps she hod not counted much ou enjoyment; her pleasures had been simple and few, and all her ideas of happiness were centered in him. Rut she had pictured them as working to­ gether, not for themselves only, but for others’ welfare also, and in a dim way she had realized that if we want to know what kind of life we are living, we must look for its reflection in the lives around us. “1suppose I need not caution you,” he said after a brief silence; "but it is important that no one should be told anything about my plans. Don’t dis­ cuss my affairs with your.uncle Wake; he is a man with whom I can’t sympa­ thize, a man who has wastedhis capaci­ ties in an absurdly unreasonable way." “Of course I won’t tell him anything,” Olive answered; "hut I wish you liked him better, Michael, for I already love him." * "Love is a valuable article and ought not to be given away in haste," said Michael. with one of his indulgent smiles. "But as you are to live under his roof, it is well that yon don’t find him unendurable. You will have a feast of books, little woman. Ah, that pleases you!" She looked up with all the light of youth and joy,lrt her beautiful face. " It seems," she said, "as if I should never get to the end of all my delights. Are you going to take me home now? Well, Michael, we muat go to church this e.venibg:" "To satisfy you, 1 suppose we must," he replied. "You women seem to think that you can’t keep good without going to church." tie was v e ry kind aad gracious t *i theywent homeward, and toldher the I namesof the streets, pointing out ob- jaatsof interestwithuntiringgood »*? tars. The Wakes did not ask where they bad l>ecn. Samnel Wake’s own face brightened when be saw tha t bia niece looked happy. And.then came the Sunday dinner, and afterwards a pleasant afternoon spent its a larger sitting-room upstairs; and Olive and Michael turned over piles of hooks to their hearts' content. The shopkeeper sold second-hand volumes as well as new ones, and Olive liked the old books best of all: She was a little dis­ appointed when Michael said that he never read any poetry nowadays. "You used to like some of tho verses in my ‘Christian Year,'" she said re­ gretfully; "1 have heard you repeat them.” . "Very likely; but l have outlived all the poetry of life; That only comes to us at the beginning of the journey,” ho answered. • "And at the close,” said Uncle Wake. "Weil, I’m not near the close yet.” Michael spoke with high good humor. "But Olive may read as many verses as she pleases. I have got to think and work.” “I shall work, too,” said Olive, with a quick, bright glance. "I must begin tomorrow.” • , Michael's brow darkened. "If I had my will you should not do anything,” he cried. . "But you cannot have your-will, dear Michael," she answered, gently. “You knew that I was coming here to get work; and UncleWake lias satisfied him­ self that my employers are respectable people. Besides, t don’t want to he idle.” Michael turned hack to the hooks with a dissatisfied look, and Samuel Wake began to point out the merits of some quaint old engravings. Then came tea and the young pair set out for West­ minster Abbey. A slight rain had fallen, and Michael laughed at Olive’s enthusiasm for the sbotvery lights shining everywhere and and the thin clouds blown by soft winds across the crowd of housetops and spires. She was silent when they drew near the abbey, and her hand clung closely to liis arm. They were late, the service had already begun, and a great wave of music camd sweeping towards them. The girl bowed her head and hid her tears; already she was realizing that she must not let Michael get too many glimpses of tv r inner self. Of course lie loved her. Did he not speak confidently of the future life that they were to live together? But what sort of a life would it be? Here»in the solemn old abbey, with the misty arches overhead and the waves of music rolling over her, Olive’s heart was throbbing with' awe and gratitude. So much had been given al­ ready; she had been led out of a nar­ row world into a wide one; hero were chauting voices and deep organ-notes expressing ull that words could not say! A flood of feeling overwhelmed her; she was worshiping and giving thanks in her tears and silence. And Michael SUNDAY AprXBHOON. by her. side stood perfectly unmoved, .wishing that they had not come. " I’m glad it is over," he said as they were coming out. "Another shower, and a heavy one, too. After all, Olive, it is a good thing you have your old bon­ net on; it will stand wetting, and I have not seen a single acquaintance all day.” CHAPTER VII. AMONGFLOWERS, Mrs. Wake was ready to acccompany Olive to the flower-shop on Monday morning. Pale and shadowy as ever, the little woman was quite equal to the occasion, and even spoke a few words of encouragement to her companion.' "Michael Cha^e doesn't want you to work,” she said. “But you will be all the happier for an occupation, OMve. I wish wo had found something for our Jessie to do. We kept her here, moon­ ing about the house and going for aim­ less walks; and so it came to pass that the Idle young woman met with an idle young man. lie thought she had money because she had nothing to do. Idle­ ness is a sign of riches, If she had been a busy working girl she would have escaped George Burnett." "Tho wife isn’t always wrong," said Samuel, who had been listening with rather a sad smile. "And the foolish father was the chief person to be blamed. It was my fault, Olive. Poor Jessie was a delicate-looking' white thing, pretty in her way; and I thought she was too fragile to go Into a busi­ ness. George Burnett took her for an heiress, I suppose. Ho believed that I could afford to keep her, and her hus­ band, too." “You are fortunate, Olive,” sighed Mrs, Wake, "Michael. Isn’t courting yon for what he can get, He loves yon, doesn't he, Samnel?" Samnel nodded, and added, mentally: "As much m he can lo"e anyone," He always preserved a vivid remem­ brance of Ills own youth, and nothing would have induced him to meddle with the course of a love affair. But was this a true lore affair? One person was in love with himself, and only wanted a wife to feed and nourish his self-ioye; the other was clinging fondly to an ig­ noble being, tricked out in a fancy cour tuina of licr .Own making. True love dwells among dreams and fitful lights and shadows; but its dreams take a definite shape and come to life, and then it is not afraid to stand face to face with them. Thih curious, unsuccessful old man understood Olive very well, and us the days went on ho saw that she suffered from feelings that were many and com­ plicated. She was always trusting and mistrusting; doubting and longing to believe; unquiet, because the ^ru^h'that was in her would not le t herbe satisfied with shams. Very gladly would he have toiled for her, and spured h e r all necessity of work. But ho knew that work was good for her--that the world was good ’for her—that the sight of many faces and the sound of many voices would help her along that diffi­ cult. unseen path which every one of us must tread ulone. She settled easily and naturally into her place in Brrridge’s flowershop, and all Lucy Cromer’s predictions were ful­ filled. It was only with Michael that Olive was nervous and shy; with other :people she could hold her own modestly and quietly,, yet with resolution. The ceaseless roar of the great street soon ,ceased to be confusing. She sat steadily at her work behind the counter, bend­ ing her smnll brown, curly head over the fragrant blossomB. There was* al­ ways a great deal to do. Wreaths and crosses for the dead; bridal bouquets; Sprays and graceful trailing clusters for ball dresses, nor deft fingers did won­ ders with flowers, arranging them among many shaded leaves and delicate maidenhair. The window was filled with specimens of her handiwork; passers-by paused spellbound; the charm of her fancy gave' a new beauty to the fair, frail things that she touched with dainty skill. One day some one came into the shop and ordered a spray of yellow roses. Olive was as busy as usual; but when he spoke she looked up. He was a well. built man, slightly above middle height, and he was looking a t her with a pair of thoughtful gray eyes, dark and rather lethargic. lie had a clear, gentle voice and slow manner, in which, how­ ever, there was not the slightest affec­ tation. Nothing in his face was re­ markable; tho skin was bronzed, the feuturcs irregular, and a tawny mus­ tache 'drooped over tho mouth. Yet there was something in'those heavy? lidded gray eyes that inudo Olive'think of them again. There was a lady with him; a well made woman, not beautiful, bu t.dis­ tinctly thoroughbred. She wore a jacket and gown of brown tweed, .and the plain costume seemed to adapt itself to all the easy movementsbf the wuarer. She too looked a t Olive; and the girl’s quick cur caught the sentence that the man said to her In a low voice. . It was something about Dante's Matilda, “who on the edge of lmppy Lethe, stood Wreathing flowers with flowers." 1They departed, and Olive' went on with her wreathing. Often, in a silent fashion, she talked with tho blossoms as she picked them carefully out of the scented heaps before licr, and confided her thoughts " To the Illy.bolls tender, And gray heliotropes." And they in tlicir turn breathed out fragrant memories of her childhood and early girlhood; of the plants that Her father and mother had tended In their cottage garden; of the May garlands that the village children had carried from door to door; of tho nosegay that Michael had brought her one summer morning, his first love-gift. Simple memories indeed, yet they helped to keep her spirit fresh and sweet, and cherish her old love for the humble country home that was now so far away. Nowadays, with all the stores of Uncle Wake's shop at her command, she spent a great deal of time in book- world. And the books filled her mind while her fingers were busy, and kept her brain so happily occupied that slio missed many undesirable things which she might otherwise have seen and heard. While she set cluster beside cluster, she thought sometimes of Per- dita at the sheep-shearing, offering posies to the shepherd’s guests; or per­ haps of Nydia, the blind flower-girl of Pompeii, weaving her chaplets in the Thessalian fashion; or of those heaven­ ly flowers which St. Dorothea sent to Theophilus after licr martyrdom. And all the while the .roar of tho great world was going on, and tho endless procession went sweeping along pala­ tial Itogent street* while one quiet maiden dreamed her dreams and wove her garlands in peace. She did not forget Lucy Cromer, that dear friend who had once sat in this very place, busy with the same dainty work that she was doing now, Little as Olive knew of Lucy’s story, she had guessed at some of its details, and felt that a weary, passionate heart had throbbed over the flowers in those days. Why had Hie been made so bitter to Lucy, and So sweet to Olivo herself? Wbjr had the one been taken and the .other left? This bright girl, young and undismayed, thought pityingly of her who had leant upon &broken reed, and rejoiced proudly in the trusty staff that supported her own footsteps. The time of loneliness and desertion was nigh a t . hand; but she was happy ■ and conft dent still. Nothing of importance happened in these days of early summer, while Ol­ ive sat wreathing flowers in the Re­ gent street shop. The routine of her business life was seldom broken. One customer, who had ordered the spray of yellow roses, came in and wanted more. Ho seem to require a great many bou­ quets and sprayB, and sometimes the young lady in brown tweed came with him, but more often he was alone. The flowers were packed in tin boxes and sent to Keaward Aylstone, Esq., Cecil street. Strand. If Olive had forgotten the existence of Aaron Feniake, Jane Challock’Blet­ ters must have recalled him to her mind. But she bad not forgotten him, and had'asked many questions of Mi­ chael about their old friend. She had soon discovered; however, that Michael hated to recaU early associations, and his answers were so curt and unsatis­ factory that a t last she dropped Aaron’s name altogether. Still, it Vexed her sorely that she had no news to send to Jane, for although there had been no * IN BUK ItlD tik’S FLOWEK-SIIOP. openly avowed engagement, everyone 'in Enstmeon had known that Jane iChallock and Aaron Feniake were lovers true. Th a village it is not easy to do one’s courting unobserved. The birds of tho air tell, the secret; the trees whisper it; the stream babbles of it night and day. Aaron’s unspoken love was freely discussed by all his old neighbors; and poor June’s unuttered hopes were tho property of all her girl friends. ' Aaron Feniake had always been a shy, slow fellow, one of those unlucky men who fail to express their feelings by look, or voice. He had often scowled at Jane when he had meant to smile sweetly, but Jane preferred liis frowns to the smiles of other* men, and in her heart she did not envy Olive for having won the magnificent' Michael, so dear was poor gloomy ’Aaron to her. Olive herself respected Aaron and liked him, not only for his devotion to Michael but for the steadfast honesty that she had always found in him. No, she did not believe that he had changed to Jane. Men of his stump, do not change, but they sometimes despair. Aaron might lose his hope but he would never forget his love. One day when June was drawing to a close she wrote a little note to Aaron Feniake and sent it to Battersby’s works. She asked why he had not bepn to see her and told him that he would find her at home any evening in the week, Sundays excepted. On Sunday she belonged exclusively to Michael, and some instinct warned her. that ho did not want to be intimate with Aaron. Yet, submissive as she was.in most things, Olive felt that a tried friendship had its claims and that something was duo to Aaron Feniake. I t pained her to think that Michael did not acknowledge tha t claim, and then she soothed herself by fancying that he had shown his grat­ itude and good feeling to Aaron in ways unknown to her. But that w*as not enough;'she wouid bo kind also, and Bhe must sec Aaron for Jane's sake. She hail posted her note on Monday, and on Tuesday evening when she was sitting atone in the- room upstairs, Aaron came in. He paused awkwardly on the threshold, and Olive rose and went to him with an outstretched hand and a bright face. "Oil, I am glad to see yon at last!” she cried in her sweet voice, "Why hove you been so long in coming?” lie looked a t her in, an odd, con­ strained way, “I didn’t know where yoq were living," he said, bringing out his words with n visible effort. "You did not know? Then Michael must have forgotten to give yon ray messages.” “Didyou really sena messages to me?” he asked eagerly. "Indeed t did,” she answered, "and 1 have been thinking you quite unkind,” He looked a t her again very search? ingly, as she stood illuminated hi tho evening light that touched her brown hair with gold, She was, wonderfully pretty—prettier than he had ever seen her yet; It was as U she had suddenly bloomed into fresh sweetness and brightness. Her altered style of dress liod something to do with lief new as­ pect; but Aaron, being a man, Could not be expected to understand this. He did full justice to her beauty, but he took no pleasure in it. And yet when she spoke again and drew him gently, to a seat by the open window, he was touched by the tender gentleness Of the face, There was a look of humility in the liquid eyes that softened him, I to » * e o k ru n r a D .l THE RO< O N ® ® N J O Y S Both the method and results when Syrup of Figs is taken; it is pleasant Hud refreshing to the taste, and acts gently yet promptly on the Kidneys, Liver and Bowels, cleanses the sys­ tem effectually, dispels colds, head? aches and fevers and cures habitual constipation. Syrup o f Figs is the only remedy o f its kind ever- pro­ duced, pleasing to the taste and ac­ ceptable to the stomach, prompt in its action and truly beneficial in its effects, prepared only from the most healthy and agreeable substances, its many excellent qualities commend it to All and. have made It the most popular remedy known. Syrup of Figs is for sale in 50c and $1 bottles by all leading-drug­ gists. Any reliable druggist who may not have it on hand will pro­ cure it promptly for any one who wishes to tiy it. Do not accept any substitute. CALIFORNIA FIG SYRUP CO, BAN FRAN 0 IBC 0 , CAL, 10 UI 8 VME. KY. NEW YORK. N.t, ‘August Flower’ “ I have been afflicted with bilious? ness and constipation for fifteen years and first one and then another prep­ aration was suggested to me and tried, but to no purpose. A friend recommended August Flower and words cannot describe the admira? tion in which I hold it. It has given me a new lease o f life, which before was a burden. Its good qualities andwonderful merits shou Id bemads known to everyone suffering with dyspepsia and biliousness/' JfKSIS B a r k e r , Printer, Humboldt, Kns.H LITTLE LIVER PILLS VO ROT OBIPK NOB SICKER. I i w j s i l , tor FUCK IIEAD . ACUR, impaired digtitloa.conitl- potion,torpid gtanil*. Ttuyeroin* vital organ,, nmori nodm. dli? ElnMi. Mefteel effect on Kill? BtnuiAlMdW. Conquer b illo n * n e rv o n a dla? ord er* . Ettibll.k ntt- urslDim A ction . _ B e e a t l f y . c o m p le x io n b y p u rify in g b lo o d . r i n i t f V n i m n t Thodoe#I, nicelyOdjaitedlo iu lto r, a*on*pill m * see*rbetooranch. Etch Tlaleonteln, « , eerrlrd In tot pocket. Ilk* lead pencil. BuMnCaa tn n n ’n (net eoaetnlenc*. Tekep ea.ler thin eu(*r. Holdeven? •her*. All genuine node bcer-'Crwcent." •end t-cent etamp.Youget33page book withiimplt, BR. HARTER MEDICINE CO.. SI. Leuli. Mt YOUNG MOTHERS! I t ’d ffe r Y o u m R e m e d y w h ic h I n a u r e n s a f e t y to I tif e o f M o th e r a n d C h ild , “MOTHER’S FRIEND” R o h e C o n fin e m e n t o f it* R a i n , H o r r o r a n d K in k . A fter naln* ono bottle of " M o th e r* , F rie n d ” 1 goffered liul little pntn.nnd did n o t exp rienco thM weaknee* afterw ard usual In such cueca.-Mri A n n k G aok . Lam ar,M u .. Jan . latb. IKll. , lijr express, charges prepaid, on roroipt price $U ‘0 tier bottle. Book to M others mailed Irrt B R A b j n a n b i : c i x i t o u co .. A TLANTA , ( i t . yi>LT> BY ALL v n v a o I9TS, BUNTING When you buy Flags you want the best. Government Standard is the best; the largest flag dealers in the U. S. are G. W. SIMMONS & CO., Oak Hall, Boston, Mass. Dealers in Military Uniforms. Write for a Flag'Catalogiie. FLAGS. B|'s CreamBalm R IIIC K L Y CRIMES COLDINHEAD i-iOGOdixiaiin* «£?p® !rM ‘? ^ r « a WIULYOUTHEWORLD’SFHII? ATTEND ---- -------------- « . trill ha w a re , undexpentltre lit TeiSop’t *e* 7 , MM Perali* tewt, (« « •* lNMa*w«a»yM*M> Ho more Urn *mlpti:j Ho mors tho t-anuco No ntoro «to brother Ter lo se tho . thu sU e H u t tnemorir appear, Who la bore powder’ .And high wf spotless -The Itook th smauga Doubtless th> o’er turd B ps s»'h Mc( wood eu And tutor d th ’ the star U ntil tho.'crat snd''fiau B ps seen th, sod fear Amid th a t e:. hearts o Oh, never so sword tt. As the "Rock bloody il God gran t u* friendly ’ God grant ol Mammoi . Like Nabal of his hero We left tho sta’ snd grief Ah, yet the N, hood la it That sheshou foe’s ove And yet her m or yield, By tho "Rocli the doub The round tub /old, W as x'ljdd to hearts gr And thus Colu drew, Until he bower pulses gr, In b attle’s tvri- sank to r> So let us eulrril lent br,;a> And ps the ami glories yi> Give honor to maugu's I A BUMIV! B ow «n oittc I t was in ! man’s army paring for t! that a great men and mil to join the . regiment* t heavy ramp "f Dm muni mrimrnt h< , width* »ii< **' , IIlMfl nltt iH'IIIIW’ll IhllttldriHlilr t il Hlhimg llli Wilt alwayn jibe* of tin, until lie l duties of a. H take earn of Among tlu* , I speak was mention. We ()>e was a sul, from ono of 1 though yotin; tall, heavy-so about him t ' educated alot of his native. Beinpr a "fri for Billy. H among the vet at home wliicl a degree of ri recruit; but i on Billy they 1 he was not to he was soon o hot help tnlki ways been om I can not * soldierly qiia! would not ltav He had no dee and was soon "how not to timers. But veloped a lit! was finally I; promenade fr< He was a sp ager. In rw, talent he wuv the company, became know, and most sum Hilly mainta the whole mu his talent tlia well into Kouli Ward march, h cnee of the r, pride of Go. a . He had a go,,, often wont out morning on f» the evening m„ mule, and rtm same animal. With the n.itu < •trade with mera, pud geno °cst end of th,. One night 'h chmp, a t aim , ’AS CO V A R mule, were but ot lathe tisck he go- J ,t, nn lED ES* WOF andctp MIHl