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he .Cuivimnuli ffiribtme.
Published by the Trzmwe Publishmr O> i
J. H. DKVKAUZ. Mmugib. I
E. W. WHITE, Soum iojt.
VOL. 11.
newly fitted up.
LABORINTmEN’S home
Restaurant & Lodging,
Wm. B. Brown, Proprietor.
183 Bryan St., SAVANNAH, GA.
Meals at all hours. Choicest brands of
jrinea, liquors and cigars always on hand.
BENNETT'S
HUMAN HAIR EMPORIUM.
Ladies’ and Gents’ wigs made to order.
Also "Fronts, Toupees, Waves, Curls,
Frizzes and Hair Jewelry. We root and
jnake up ladies’ own combings in any
desirable style. We have character Wigs
and Beards of all kinds to rent for Mas
querades and entertainments. Ladies and
children Hair cutting and shampooning.
Also, hair dressing at your residence if
required. We cut and trim bangs in all
pf the latest styles. Cash paid for cut
hair and combings of all kinds. All goods
willingly exchanged if not satisfactory.
Kid Gloves Cleaned.
R. M. BENNETT,
No. 56 Whitaker St. Savannah, Ga.
FRANKLIN F. JOINES,
AT STALL NO. 31, IN THE MARKET,
Announces to his friends and the public
that he keeps on hand a fresh supply of
the best Beef, Veal and Mutton, also all
of game when in season, and will
be glad to wait on bis customers as usual
with politeness and promptness. His
prices are reasonable and satisfaction is
guaranteed. Goods delivered if desired.
DON'T FORGET, STALL NO. 31.
GREEN GROCERY.
DEISTRY FIELDS
THE OLD RKLIAELK
GREENGROCER
WOULD inform his friends and the
public that he still holds the fort
t his old stand corner South Broad and
East Boundry streets, where he keeps on
hand constantly, a full supply of fresn
Beef, Veal, Mutton, Pork, Fish, Poultry,
Eggs, Game and all kinds of Vegetables,
Prices reasonable—to suit the times.
Goods delivered if desired.
The New Commissioner of Patents.
We give herewith a portrait of Benton
J. Hall, of Burlington, lowa, who has
been appointed Commissioner of Patents,
in place of Colonel M. V. Montgomery >
resigned.
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Mr. Hall was born at Mount Vernon,
Ohio, January 13, 1835. His home has
been in lowa since 1839. He was edu
cated at Knox College, Illinois, and at
Miami University, Ohio. In June, 1855,
he was graduated from the last named in
stitution. Returning to Burlington he
read law in his father’s office, and was
admitted to the bar after two years.
Since 1857 he has been in practice at
Burlington, of which place he is a prom
inent citizen.
The new Commissioner of Patents be
gan a career of public service with mem
bership in the lower house of the General
Assembly of lowa, for 1872-73. Begin
ning in January, 1882, he was a State
Senator for four years. He was elected
to the Forty-ninth Congress on the Dem
ocratic ticket, and served his term as a
member of the House of Representatives.
Ex-Governor John 11. Gear was his suc
cessful opponent last fall, when Mr. Hall
v >; sa candidate’for re-election to Con
go SB. *
Hail is a strongly built man of me
c ! 'Un h' ight. He carries his fifty-two
♦ ' k** Ei* dark brown hair and mus
•■f'he as yet s arcely showing the snowy
cffecta of time.
The Will ans the Way.
It was h noble Roman,
In Rome’s imperial day,
Who heard a coward creaker,
Before the battle, say:
•‘They’re safe in such a fortress;
There is no way to shake it—”
“On! on!” exclaimed tho hero,
•'l’ll find away, or makj it!"
Is fame your aspiration?
Her path is steep and high;
In vain ho seeks the temple
Content to gaze and sigh!
The shining throne is waiting.
But he alone can take it
Who says, with Roman firmness,
“I’ll find away, or make it!"
Is learning your ambition?
There is no royal road;
Alike the peer and peasant
Must climb to her abode,
Who feels the thirst lor knowledge
In Helicon may slack it,
If he has still the Roman will
To “find away, or make it!”
Are riches worth the getting?
They must be bravely sought;
With wishing and with fretting
The boon cannot be bought.
To ail the prize is open,
But only he can take it
Who says, with Roman courage, ,
“111 find away, or mike it!”
—John G. Saxe
A HERO OF THE PLAINS,
i
William Matthewson, of Fort Sill, In
i dian Territory, stands six feet two
inches, with a head on him that would
have done for a senator when men were
senators; chin square cut; square shoul
dered—you would say a man on the
I square as you looked at him. Modest
: as the brave ever are, not disposed to
i talk until he is sure of his man. But
when he does talk, the days of Daniel
j Boone, says a Boston letter to the New
i Orleans States, do not seem so far away.
; See him as he sits’in front of his ranch,
grave as a Roman senator. Yonder,
galloping across the plains, comes an
I Indian. As he comes nearer we sec he
has the physique of a giant. Matthew
son’s face kindles.
“It is Big Bow,” he says.
I The Indian rides within forty paces
I of us, but veers off toward the Quaker
agency. As he does so he shouts and
points that way, “Simpah Zilbah! Come
I agent."
| There has been trouble; he wants Sin-
I pah Zilbah—“the dangerous one with
! long hair on his chin”— as the Kiowas
I ~
■ have named Matthewson, to help him
; get at this Quaker agent, who seems to
I him a half-squaw man.
i How has this man made himself a
| power with the fiercest chief among the
| Kiowas? Years ago in the state of New
York was a lad with a hot, restless
heart. That heart had not been made
restless by the cheap novel, for the cheap
novel was not yet. His heart was rest
! less because it was a big heart, full of
I courage and high daring. That heart
j had been fired by a book, but it is a
! very noble book, the life of one of our
! very bravest Americans, John C. Frc
! mont. Well, the boy did what my
boy readers had better not do unless
' they are absolutely sure they have as
I lofty a heart as W-liiam Matthewson had
—he ran away, and he struck for the
| path the great pathfinder had found, the
; overland route to California. Out and
out he went into the heart of what was
called once the great American desert,
but which never was a desert, only a
' great plain, stretching, as the great Lake
! Michigan stretches, a d which perhaps,
] was the bottom of a great lake once.
I Tiie ranch where the youth stopped was
i also in the heart of the Indian country.
The Kiowas were there, an J fierce, fear
less fellows they were, who could look
you square in the face without flinching.
The Corranchcs, too, occasionally swept
j up there, short and squatty, inferior
1 looking save on horseback, and they did
: not look—well, square in the eye—they
cast furtive, sidewise glances. The
Kiowas took lovingly to him when they
came in. And while he was learning
frontier lore from the ranchmen he was
■ learning as fast as he could the Kiowa
■ language.
At 22 he pushed o*it further alone in
the Kiowa country and established a
j ranch. It is enough of a trading ranch
‘ to give him an excuse to among
SAVANNAH. GA.. SATURDAY, APRIL 30.1887.
them. His ranch, being the furthest
out this side of the Rocky Mountains, is
a haven to weary overlanders to Cali
fornia.
Matthewson, besides the Kiowa
language, had learned the sign language,
which is the common language between
all of the tribes. If yon ask an Indian
how far any place is, and if he does not
speak your language, he will tell you
how many sleeps oil it is. A sleep is
about 20 mi’es. If it is about 200 miles
off he will lay his head in his hand,
close his eyes and then hold up both
hands—it is ten sleeps off. If he wished
to tell you you lied, he would thrust out
two index fingers from his mouth, mak
ing an obtuse angle—“you talk forked.”
Matthewson understood this sign
language perfectly, but the Indians did
not know this. Some Indians of another
tribe had come in. They were talking
this sign language to a group of Kiowas:
“What is it?”
“A prisoner got away. Prisonc
white and a young girl. Stole one o
their ponies. Got away in a storm.
Will give one, two, thiee, four, five cat
tle Kiowa catch her.”
“All at once it flashed over me,” he
said. “A young girl alone on the plains,
two tribes banding to catch her! My
brave one, I’m on your side’ I sold them
or half gave them the goods to get them
away. I saddled two horses—my marc
Bess and a splendid horse 1 had. I took
my carbine and two Colt, revolvers. 1
told some straggling Kiowas that were
still three: ‘My cattle gone; I must go
hunt them.’ 1 pushed off on the course
1 knew she woUfid be likely to take. I
examine it close; yes, it is hers. Before
this 1 strike a small band of Kiowa In
dians, who were scouring the plains for
her trail. ‘Where you going?’ ‘Hunt
my cattle; four got away; two red, two
spotted.’ 1 push on. I follow the trail
as long as 1 can see; camp; partner, I
was young then; I didn’t sleep much.
As soon as I can see the bent and
crushed grass of the trail 1 push on, east,
ever eastward. The girl has got sense
as well as pluck. She knows the settle
ment lies there. Bess tosses her head
and leads out in a long stride. Suppose
these red imps strike across and get ahead
of me! Well, if it comes to the worst
I couldn’t go down in a better cause.
Hour after hour nothing but the
sweep and the hateful sameness of the
stretch of the prairie. It is the middle
of the second evening. There’s a speck!
Come, Bess, we’ll make that, speck grow
bigger. It’s a horse, and there’s some
one on it.
Partner, I’m not the praying kind,
but I did thank the Almighty. When she
looked around and saw me she was nigh
frightened to death. Iler eyes looked
just like a frightened fawn’s, but the
next time she turned they looked like a
fawn's when she finds its mother has
scared it. Her Indian pony was shaky.
I had her on my led horse in a jiffy. We
pushed for the first station or ranch on
the route. We changed horses there,
and still pushed on. We. are not safe
yet. I carried her to the settlement in
Kansas.
Her folks had all been murdered in
Texas. She made her home there after
ward. Partner, it would make a pret
tier ending for me to say tint I married
that girl; but I didn’t; my time hadn’t
come yet. Later on I lariated a splen
did girl up off a Kansas prairie.
A Terrible Affliction.
A physician says that a man with but
one car can hear just as well as a man
with two, but he cannot locate the
sound. The man with but one ear de
serves our sympathy. When he hears
a small boy making an infernal racket
after dark by <1 rawing a stick across the
fence pales he doesn’t know in what di
rection to hurl the brick he instinctively
grubs. [Norristown II raid.
a. I— JI
He Was No Pavement.
“And now,” comduded the lecturer,
if there is any one here who wants to ask
any questions, let him be heard.”
“I’d like to know, ’ aid an old, bald
headed man, rising in the back seat,
“how many marbles have been dropped
on my head by those scalawags in the
gallery? I’m no pavement.”- [Tid-Bits
Carried It Himself.
It was in the days of the early railroad,
when it was yet new; the days when the
journey to New York was less of a little
jaunt than it is now; when greenbacks
were not popular here. One summer
morning a man, walking in happy and
feverish haste, with wild excitement
beaming all over his face, stepped into
the office of a well-known banker.
“1 want exchange for this on New
York.”
“All right. What is it?”
The man looked fearful around hire
and then brought out a packet.
“It’s $25,000 in greenbacks.”
“I guess 1 can do it. Going East?”
“Yes, I’m going to-morrow. 1 don’t
want to carry all this with me. Couldn’t
do it. Sure to get robbed. So give me
a draft. How much?”
“Oh, seeing it’s you, one per cent.;
$250.
“It goes.”
So the banker made out a draft on
New York and took the money.
“You’re going to-morrow, are you?”
“Yes.”
“Would you mind taking a little
parcel for me and handing it to my
brother?”
“Certainly. I’ll do it with pleasure.”
The banker went into the other room
and presently came back with the
parcel.
“Just put it in your valise, and don’t
lose it, will you?”
“I’ll take the best of care of it.”
“Thank you. Good by. Pleasant
(rip.”
Arrived in New York, the Californian
went to the address and delivered tiie
package. Then he presented his draft.
The man opened the package and gave
him the identical $25,000 in greenbacks
he had in San Francisco. lie had car -
ried them all the way himself. [San
Francisco Chronicle.
“Ihank You.”
We respondfto the following request
for information with the satisfaction of
knowing that our answer will doubtless
be the means of preventing more than
one serious and lamentable calamity:
“In returning thanks for any favor should
anything besides an exclamation of ‘Thank
you' be employed?”
In answering this question, as in an
swering all others, the particular times
and circwßistances must be considered.
Generally “Thank you” is sufficient. If
a person passes you the butter, it is
proper to say “Thank you.” Or if a p r
son agrees to grunt any simple request
of yours, it is proper and appropriate to
say “Thank you.” But. there are other
occasions when this or perhaps any
other verbal expression wcul l be unnec
essary, if not absolutely inexcusable.
If, in response to a passionate and ear
nest appeal to a young woman that she
should illuminate your dismal loneliness,
enlighten your bachelor inexperience,and
assist your solitary helplessness by be
stowing her confi ting sell upon you,and
placing her future happiness in your
guardianship, she should say “Yes,” and
ycu should then say “Thank you,” the
chances are that she would throw the
whole thing up. Such a reply would
knock the bottom out of an almost un
fathomable sentiment. A man who
would receive a young woman’s band
with the same expression with which he
would acknowledge a butter dish or the
return of a blown-off ha'., could not ap
preciate the real value of a woman’s
love. Tne proper response to such a
priceless gift is made with the eyes, the
arms, perchance the lips; but the words
are out of place.—[New York Sun.
Morning in Her Room.
Bright and early the other day—so
early that it seemed to the head of the
house that he had just fallen asleep
he was awakened by a vision of white
flannel nightgown, a fair face above it,
with fairest hair encircling that, big
blue eyes an 1 a rosy mouth, with one
w'liite linger thrust fultcringly between
the lips, standing by his bedside.
“What is it, Margherita?” he
asked.
‘•lt’s it’s—it’s morning in my
room.
It was morning throughout the house
after that.---Boston Transcript.
(fl. 25 Per Innnm; 75 cent* for Six Months;
■; 50 cents Tlir- e Months; Single Copies
( 5 cent*-—ln Advance.
Its English, You Know.
Tn England, says a correspondent; ■
crackers are called biscuits and bisculM
rolls. Syrup and molasses are botlji
known as treacle; a pie (of fruit) is M
tart; a sugar bowl is a sugar basin; <1
stoop is a porch and an entry a halll®
a pitcher is a jug, and a bureau is a]
chest of drawers; a cane is a walking®!
stick, an overcoat a great coat; a check!!
rein a bearing rein. Reins are neverl!
called lines, and a coachman is neverfl
called the driver. Every store is a shopgfi|
a fruit store is a fruiterer’s; a hardware!!
store an ironmonger’s; a dry goods stortfl
a draper’s or haberdasher’s; a drug store®
a chemist’s, and a vegetable store agj
greengrocer’s. Coal is invariably called®
coals; calico print, thread cotton, and a.|l
spool a reel. A frock coat is never called®
a I’rnci AlbeM nor is a high hat called!]
a stovepqie. Rare meat is always under-®
done, and the stubs of check books are®
the counterfoils. Sleeve-buttons are I
cuff-links, and shirt-cuffs wristba®s.
Mush is porridge. A balky horse is a
jii bii.g horse, and to balk is to jib. A
cigar store is a tobacconist’s. Beets
(cooked) nre beet-root; the german
(dance) is always cilled cotillion. A
stem-winder is a keyless watch, and beer I
(at bars) bitter. Os course, in this I ex-,
eept lager beer, which is now in such
great vogue in England. ‘The lingo of I
railways differs wonderfully. Railroad I
is railway; the track is the line, and the j
rails the metals; the curs are the train !
to switch is to shunt; a turnout is a
siding.
Running a Mile on the Ties.
“Talking about peculiar railway ac
cidents,” said a freight conductor on the
Chicago, Milwaukee and St. Paul, “let
me tell you of a queer one we had a few
weeks ago up near Lanark. It was just
about three miles east of that station that
our caboose jumped the track and began
bumping on the ties. We bad a long
train ahead, ami were just going into the
valley, running at a lively rate, and it
took a long time to stop the train. My
brakem in got scared the first thing and
jumped, while I went ahead and began
setting brakes, an 1 trying to attract the
attention of the engineer and of the head
brakeman, who was in the engine cab.
We had several passengers in the ca
boose, one a man with a little boy, and
they were were afraid to jump. The
caboose bumped and rattled along on the
ties fully a mile. In going that dis--
tance we passed over one high embank
ment and across one short bridge. The
caboose clung to the ties all the way,
though sometimes, as we afterward saw, ,
the wheels were within an inch of the
end of the sleepers on one side or the
other, and thereby saved the lives of the
passengers. The man who had the little
boy with him was almost in a faint when
we finally brought the train to a stand-'
still, ami no wonder, for it must have .
been a frightful experience.—[Chicago
Herald. • 1
■■■ana**--
The Religions of India.
Prof. Sir Mon er Williams of Oxford,
declares that Buddhism bus entirely died
out in India proper, the place of its
origin, an !*s rapidly dying out in other
Asiatic countries. He thinks the de
votees of the religion do not number
over 100,000,000 at the present time,
and that the exaggerated ideas with re
gard to the population of China, to
gether with the forgetfulness yf the
millions who worship no one but their
own ancestors, account for the popular
ideas that the Confuciani.sts are so num
erous. His own opinion is that in point
of numbers Christianity stands at the
head of all the religions of the world.
The order following Christianity he be
lieves to be Hinduism (including Brah
manism, Jainism, demon and fetish
wor:>h pi). Confucianism, Mohamme
danism, Buddhism, Taoism, Judaism
und Zoroastrianism.
.
What She Would Do.
Charley (to his jueity cousin, who is I
fi-hing)—Any bites y-t. Maud?
Maud —Only a nib le or two.
Charb y —What wou d you do, Maud, J
if you should make as good a “catch" as
1 am said to be?
Maud—Throw it back in, Charley.—-
NO. 28.