The south-western. [volume] (Shreveport, La.) 1852-1870, 1857-04-22
At last urged my horse close up to hers, and

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At last urged my horse close up to hers, and
stammered out -
"Mlss Alice"
There was moments pause. Hero, (this
was the. name Of Aliee's horse as if jealous
of me, began to mend his pace. | pushed up
my steed to his side, and repeated again in a
low voice, agitated and trembling in spite Of
me. So %% E'%@E5s3 @..%
'sMiss Alice-I-I-'' -ss-a=sz sA@9 z-ts.
Hero shot ahead a little. I urged my own
nag forward. Hero only went the faster. |
was half a length behind him.
Miss AliceP' repeated I, somewhat louder,
81 desire, Miss Alice, wish-that is, / trust, y
Hero broke out into gallop. I struck for
ward at the same pace, but in spite of me kept
nearly q length behind. | was sitting decided
" awkward '~1
Il wish, Miss Clare" resumed I, ''to con-
TESS toyou, to unfold to you, to offer s ia
Herobe to stretch out in long leaps. My
nag was an ambitious creature, but rather
short MINDED. He didn't like this apparent at
temptto leave his company, and giving his
head an ugly shake, began to try his best. ~
s'' Miss Clare, said T. as 1 got close up to
herside again, .'Miss Glare, I love--I offer"
Hero began TO galloop at a furious RI! rate !
urged my own horse forward with whip and
heel. We were going over the rough ground
like mud. My hat blew off. / was an uncer-
out of the saddle | grasped the name with
all my might. tz .-...-.... ,... -..r
Miss Clare off-o -off-fer-" stammered
i, still holding pertinaciously to my one idea,
although graspng, bewildered, blinded, my
stirrups lost, and near shaken out of my seat.
"Alice-Miss Clare-dear Alice" still kept
crying out, although now dozen feet behind
her. My horse was winded and began 10 lose
his ground: Alice shot ahead like an arrow,
never deignirg to give me one look. A turn
ing in the road took herfrom my sight. A few
minutes more, and my horse was broken down
altogether, and abruptly stopped. l ground
mytecth together, and even let out an oath.
berated my broken windcd stced with every
epithet l could think of. In fact, worked my
selfupinto tremendous passion. But didn't
mean to give the matter up. | rode back and
found my hat, and then deliberately pursued
my way to Alice's cottage.
AS | rode up saw horse, not Hero, dusty
and travelstaned, standing by the gate. A
visitor thought l, impatienty, and I shall fail
to find an opportunity after all. However, |
rode up, dismountcd and entered. Alice was
there, her riding habit already removed. A
stranger was present-a tall, fine looking man
of not more than twenty-five. "..y .'a4
Both rose as | entered.
''Mr. Jackson, permit me-" said Alice, with
an arch smile and a mischicvous glance, "to
introduce Mr.. Clare-my husbandv'
I turned white, then red sat down, and
stood up; | started, stammered, and wondered
if there was a way to vanish through the floor
and at last seized my hat, rushed out and made
my way off as fast as possible. :
Within two hours, was on my way to New
Orleans
l found out all about it afterwards; Mary,
the mlsahievous puss, seeing that was struck
with Alice, and inasmuch as Mr.. Clare was alb
sent, planned a little sport at my expense
which Alice was very willing to join her in
Reader, let me give you two pieces of ad-
vice: y --..4. ...S vf ,... ,-. -..-.....
Be sure the lady you fall in love with hasn't
husband already.
Never pop the question on horseback
"
thing, Mr.. Fold-up- -your-hands. The world
owes you not a single sou! You have done
nothing these twenty years but consume the
products earned by the sweat of other mems
brows, ~s=s# sG.> .: A.f.. z-.i- i gasFS'4tz
. "You have ate and drunk and slept, what then .
Why, ate and drunk and slept again E.
And this is the sum total of your life. And
the world ''owes you living?" For what?
How came it indebted to you for that amount?
What have you done for it? What family in
distress have you befriended? What. pro-
ducts have you created? What miseries have
you, aleviated? What errors have you re-
moved? What arts have you perfected? The
world owes you a living? Idle man, never
was there more absurd ideal You have been
a taxa sponge upon the world ever since you
came into it. 1t is your creditor to a vast
amount Your liabilities are immense, your
assets are nothing, and you say the world is
owing you. Go to! The amount in which you
stand indebted to the world is more than you
will ever have the power to liquidate! You owe
the world the labor of your two strong arms
and all the skill in the work they might have
gained, you owe the world the labor Of that
brain of yours-the sympathy of that heart
'ho ehoi Stee VI youI oetS' you o"o the WI iu
the moral and intellectual CAPABILITIES of a mani
Awake, then, from that dreamy, do nothing
state of slothfulness in whichsyou live, and let
us no longer hear the false assertion that the
world is owing you until you have done some
thing to satisfy the just demand to which we
have referred. = 75stT ~E3@@& >'t5 .@=a5~..55'
The Chicago Journal gives the following
melancholy instance of the instability of hu-
man affairs: Yesterday an old man well known
in this city, whom we shall call Mr.. Brown,
was arrested as a vagrant and taken before the
police court. Mr.. B. cameto this city in 1884,
and by industry and economy succeeded in
amassing considerable fortune. His society
was courted by ALL his friends were number
less; his position high, and hebade fairto go
down to a hale old age in the enjoyment of all
those pleasures and comforts which wealth
alone can procure. ard which are also depend
ent upon wealth for their very existence But
.riches take to themselves wings" Msfor
tune gathering around him-his too con6ding
nature rendered him an easy prey to the shap
er and speculator Year by year his property