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Published by ths Tanwas PnbitohiM Oo 1
J. H. DKVRAIIX, Man a. gm.
R. W. warns, Bouwttob. (
VOL. IL
newly Fitted up.
LABORIN?H’S home
Restaurant & Lodging,
Wm. B. Brow, Proprietor,
189 Bryan St., SAVANNAH, GA,
Meals at all hours. Choicest brands of
wines. liquors and cigars always on hand.
15 K N Jtf ETT ’ S
HUMAN HAIR EMPORIUM.
Ladies’ and Gents’ wigs made to order.
Also Fronts. Toupees, Waves, Curls,
Frizzes and Hair Jewelry. We root and
tnake up ladies’ own combings in any
desirable style. We have character Wigs
j»nd Beards of ail kinds to rent for Mas
querades and entertainments. Ladies and
children Hair cutting and shampooaing.
Also, hair dressing at your reside*oe if
Required. We cut and trim bangs in all
pf the latest styles. Cash paid for cut
hair and eombings of all kinds. AH goods
willingly exchanged if not satisfactory.
Kid Gloves Cleaned.
H. M. BENNETT,
No. 56 Whitaker St. Savannah, Ga.
FRANK DUST F. .TONES,
IT 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
kinds of game when in season, and will
be glad to wait on his customers as usual
with politeness and promptness. His
prices are reasonable and satisfaction is
Siaranteed. Goods delivered if desired.
ON‘T FORGET. STALL NO. 31.
CREEN GROCERY.
HENRY FIELDS
THE OLD XItI.TABT.IE
GREEN GROCER
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 fresh
Beef, Veal, Mutton, Pork, Fish, Poultry,
Eggs, Game and all kinds of Vegetables.
Prices reasonable —to suit the times.
Goods delivered if desired.
A Perfect Weld Without Fire.
A correspondent of the Blacksmith
writes as follows: “I never never seen
anything in the columns of your paper
relative to making a perfect weld of
steel without tire or borax. A job came
to my shop a few days ago in tire shape
of two pieces of three-quarter inch
round steel, welded together end to end.
A taper plug of steel was in one end of
a shaft on which a coin was running.
The plug of steel was bearing against a
piece of steel in the frame, the object of
this being to tighten the burrs. Owing
to a loose box on the shaft, the shaft got
to jumping, giving a side motion and
creating friction enough to weld the two
pieces of steel together as stated. The
two pieces of steel were hardened.”
It is not a very uncommon thing, adds
the Scientific Press, for a steel spindle in
a spinning mechanism, when running
at great speed, as it does in a steel cap,
with perhaps a little w abbling, to sud
denly stop its motion and become thor
oughly welded to the cup. Os course
this can occur only when the oil in the
cup is exhausted.
What It Is Depends On the Way You
Look at Lt.
J
\. '4 4.. ■ Aw, > ,
Cowslips
When mists beside the river kneel,
Like still gray nuns at matins,
And catkins o’er the willows steal.
All dressed in silvery satins,
Before the soldier-reeds unbind
Their swords to tilt against the wind,
Before the grass begins to tosa,
Its pretty fancies thrilling,
Or buttercups and yellow floss
Enough to make their frilling,
The cowslips sit in golden crowds
Beneath dim April’s frowning clouds.
Alcne within the fields they bide;
No lover that way lingers;
The alders by the brooklet’s side
Reach down their long brown fingers
One lonely robin on the wing,
Is-calling plaintively for spring.
Bat st ill, as brave and grid are they
As any summer beauty;
They ask no rosy holiday;
They smile for that’s their duty,
And all the meadow's gladness lies
Within their brave and shining eyes.
They promise days in one bright wreath
Os bloom and sunbeams airy;
The sweetness of their fresh young breath
They give the showers to carry
To lonely homesteads near and far,
Where hearts that long for spring-time are.
As if't were dew, the rain-drops wet
They take with cheery lightness,
None praise them; but, with fair prate yet,
'J hey wear their homely brightness.
For truest courage has its birth
In an inward sense of worth.
-—[Susan Hartley Swett, in St. Nicholas.
CHRISTIE'S NEW DRESS.
Pretty Christie Burgess was the
daughter of the widow with whom j
boarded. I was a confidential friend of
both mother and daughter and knew
that, like myself, they had known bet
ter days. Somewhere in California
there was an Uncle Charles, Mrs. Bur
gess's brother, who would keep them,
they were sure, had he known their cir
cumstances, but whose address they
could not tell, and who knew nothing of
their having left their former handsome
home.
Some of Mrs. Burgess’s former friends
had visited her and ore of them, Mrs.
Wharton had sent Christie an invitation
to a party at her house. As soon as it
was positively decided that she could not
go, because a new evening dress could
not be thought of, I resolved upon the
awful extravagance of presenting the
pretty girl with a dress.
It was worth it all to see Christie
when I called her to my room on the
afternoon of the eventful day and in
troduced her to the fiery spread out
upon my bed.
•‘I have some jewels here, Christie, J
am going to lend you for this evening,’’
said I.
“Oh, how pretty and how odd !” she
ciied. “Were they made to order, Miss
Jane?”
"Yes] They were a gift to me seven
years ago, when I was your age,
Christie.”
She looked at me wistfully when we
were alone, her soft-brown eyes ques
tioning my face; but she asked no
questions and went down to her mother,
softly and thoughtfully.
Seven years before that night I had
been left an orphan, hopeless and heart
broken.
I had no mother to share the grief, no
sister or brother to lighten it. I was all
alone. 1 was not a strong-minded girl
to face the trouble, and so I shut myself
up alone until the funeral, refusing to
see even Charlie. Then I ran away at
night. Iba i one friend in Cleveland to
whom I dared confide all, and I went to
her. I wrote to Charlie and told him I
should never ask him to fulfill his vows
to me and bade him farewell.
For days after I arrived at Cleveland 1
was utterly prostrated; but my friend
was kind, as I knew she would be, and
when I was able to think aided me in all
mv plans. J had brought nothing from
home but the one mourning suit I had
worn to the funeral and Charlie's car
buncles.
Airs. Munroe had been an 'old friend
of my mother’.*, and had vis t ■<! us more
than once, always urging me to return
the visits, but, unable to win my father’s
consent to part with me for so long a
journey, for I was a three days’ railway
ride from my old home. As soon as J
SAVANNAH. GA.. SATURDAY, MAY 21.1881.
was able to undertake teaching, Hrs.
Munroe exerted herself to procure me
scholars, and I soon had a class that
paid me an income sufficient for my
modest wants.
For six years I had a home in my
friend’s house, she alone knowing that
Miss Jaue Gray was the missing Ella
Thorne advertised by her relatives, more
to save their own reputation than from
any interest in her fate. I mule, no
doubt, a nine days’ wonder in A ,
and then ray uncles, aunts and cousins
probably forgot my existence. Charlie,
perhaps, was one of those seeking me,
but 1 was resolved never to share my
fortune? with his.
When the death of my friend and
benefactress was added to my list of
sorrows, I was known enough in Cleve
land to retain my scholars, and found a
new home with Mrs. Burgess.
I was still sitting with locked door,
brooding over the pa*t, and unconscious
that Christie had been gone three hours,
when Mrs. Burgess came to my room,
demanding admittance in an excited
voice. J opened the door at once.
“Oh, Miss Jane! Miss Jane!” she
cried, “Charles has come! Charles has
come! and he wants to see you!”
j “Wants to see me?”
“Oh, yes! It’s the strangest thing al
together! He has been here more than
an hour; he met Christie at the parly;
and, only think, be has beeu home over
; three month’, part of the time in A
' and part here, trying all the time to find
■ us, so it was no wonder Christie’s name
j struck him at once at. the party. He
' taked to her a little while and then
came to me. But lam talking on, and
forgetting that we are keeping him wait-
I ing. Will you come down?”
i “But what can he possibly want of
I me?”
j “To thank yon, I guess, for sending
! Christie to the party. He knows she
' could not have gone but for your kind
! ncss.”
1 went down stairs very slowly. I
went into the dining-room first and there
heard a little bustie of arrival. Christie
had come and was again welcoming her
1 uncle. There was no venerable white
' haired gentleman, such as I had pictured
this L’ncle Charles, now standing before
' Christie under the entry lamp. This
i man was tall and handsome, barely 30
' years of age, in the full vigor of youth.
I Just a? I saw him he was saying:
“1 could not ask you in those crowded
rooms, Christie; but if you will unclasp
that bracelet for me and let me see the
initials engraved inside 1 shall be very
glad. I—l saw a set like them once.
They are very odd; Miss Gray, you
said?”
“Yes; she lent them to me for this
j evening.”
“She—she—bought them of some one
i did she not?”
“Oh, no; they were a gift from a
friend who invented the design. Here
, is the bracelet, Uncle Charles.”
Hi* hand trembled so that lie could
| scarcely hold it while he rea l the initials
j “C. IL” to "E. T.”
1 could not resist any longer. Try
ing to steady my steps, T went to meet
him.
i “Ella! myEla!” That was the cry
| of my faithful lover as be clasped me in
j his arms.
j “.Mine again; mine!” he murmured,
i And I, in a dream of bliss that was al-
I most delirium, could only lie there, too
j happy to speak.
"But,” said Christie, presently, “what
! is it all?”
"She is my betrothed wife, be an
swered, in a broken voice, “whom I
have sought for seven long years, but
now xs ill hold till death parts us,” and he
, st . lined me to him as if be meant the
i words literally.
“But why didn’t you tell us, Miss
i •
i Jane,” said Christie.
“How c uld I dream that vour Uncle
Charles was my Charlie?” I said. "And
now, how is it? Your name is not Bur
gess, Charlie?”
“No, but my half-brother’s was.”
“Why, to bo sure,” said Mrs. Burgess,
“we never told you that Charles was
I only a younger half-brother. His Dame
!is Reynolds. Well, Charles,” site said,
half laughing, a few minutes later, “1
suppose Christie and I may retire into
the background again.”
“Not so!” he answered, quickly, “I
am a rich man, Sister Mary, and know
that the same generous spirit that took
from a hard-earned pittance the sum to
purchase an evening of pleasure for iny
little niece will be willing to share a
husband’s fortune with a widowed sister
and her child. It is not so, Ella?”
We had a quiet wedding in the spring.
Christie was iny only bridesmaid; but
we returned to A-, taking the widow
and her daughter with in. And, in my
ohl home, among my old friends, 1 now
preside, the happy wife of my first, my
only love; while on festive oi casions I
still wear Charlie’s carbuncles.
A Curious Little Honey Bird.
We came to n large piece of timber,and
while passing through it 1 had my first
experience with the honey bird of South
Africa. This curious little bird is, in
size and plumage, about like an English
sparrow, and gets his name from the
fact that the little fellow, who is very
fond of houey, being unable to obtain it
for himself, will lead men to the places
where wild bees have hidden stores of
rich wild honey. Whenever this bird
sees a man be will fly close to him, hov
ering around, uttering a twittering
sound; then he will go off in the direc
tion of the place (generally a tree) where
the honey is, flying backward and for
ward in a zigzag fashion. Then back
he will c nne, twittering in the same
manner, as if to say, “Come along. I’ll
show you where it is.” These actions
are repeated until the tree is reached,
when the bird will indicate it very plain
ly by flying to it and hovering around
it.
If the distance is great, and some
times the honey bird will lead a person
who is willing to follow a distance of
ten miles, he will wait on a tree until
the follower comes up and will then
continue his business of piloting. He
is very persistent and will do his
best to draw any one on, but if the party
is not posted about honey birds and re
fuses to follow, or goes in the wrong
direction, the bird will leave, probably
in search of some person who will ap
preciate his efforts to provide him with
sweetmeats.
While the bees are being smoked out
and the houey taken up, the bird will
hover over the vicinity until the job is
dune, when of course his reward comes
in the shape of a feast on the fra merits
that are left. If he knows of other
hives, just as soon as one is disposed of
he will lead the way to another, and I
have, since this time, known as many us
four trees to be taken up by a party in
one day. When the houey bird has
shown one tree, if the hunters are satis
fied with that and refuse to follow him
further,he leaves them; but I have never
heard of an instance in which the bird
misled any one in regard to finding
honey. It frequently happens, however,
that a honey bird will lead a person into
very dangerous places, and unless the
hunter keeps his eyes about him, when
following this bird, lie may run right
onto a lion, a venomous snake, or some
other equally undesirable acquaintance.
The Gulf Stream.
The fact is well understoo I, of course,
that Great Britain and other parts of
northwestern Europe owe much in the
matter of climate and temperature, to
the warming influence of the Gulf
Stream. Tue extent of the effect which
is thus produced, according to the cal
culations made by I).’. Croll, almost ex
ceed belief, or even comprehension, in a
mathematical sense. He has found, by a
careful scientific estimate, that the
amount of heat conveyed northward in
th • Atlantic by tin* * ream is equivalent
to 77,479,560,000.000,000 foot pounds of
energy per day, which is • qual to all the
heat received by 1,560,035 square miles
at the equator, and more heat than is
conveyed by all the air currents—and so
positive is its climatic effect, and so far
reaching, that according to Dr. Croll,
the heat of the Arctic seas and North
Atlantic would be diminished to that
immense extent by the stoppage or di
version of ‘.he great ocean river.
i t 1.25 Per Annum; 75 cents for Rix Months;
50 oeuta Three Months; Single Copies
' 5 cents—ln Wrnws.
The Red Man’s Domestic Life. .!
It must be said fur the red man that®
he keeps good hours. Darkness usually®
finds him in bed, and daylight, thqfl
pangs of hunger and the swarms of I
buzzing, biting flies may be counted®
upon to route him at the first blush of®
dawn. His toilet is soon performed. In®
summer it is limited to a stretch, and al
long drawn chest-satisfying yawn end
ing in a querulous demand for breakfast.;
In winter it is somewhat more elaborate,
but is even then comprised in a ju
dicious section of blankets and robes for
the day’s wear, chocsing from those in
which he has passed the night a greater
or less quantity, according to the in
i leniency of the weather. The Indian
i goes to lied as he dies, with his boots on. (
i He washes—never. In all things save
eating, horses and the labor of women, j
he is scrupulously economical, He;
I wastes nothing. A few sticks of wood, I
and they are always surprisingly small,
l suflico to keep bis lodge tolerably warm;
in the severest weather. If the nights
are cold, and they frequently are so, the!
lodge floor at night is a writhing mass of
Indians, great and small, lying closely,
together for warmth. Night ixaa few!
attractions for those who believe that it
was made to sleep in. Their savage t
luncy, therefore, peoplesit with harmful |
spirits, whose presence means no good, ]
whose influence is always evil, boding i
death and misfortune. Nothing short a
of the direct necessity will induce them I
I to move or travel at night, aud no form u
of amusement can be conceived or at- |
tractive enough to draw an Indian from j]
‘ the blankets which he seeks at close of jl
day. [N. Y.. Graphic.
The “Buck Log.”
it will surprise many ]>ersons of the il
present day to be told that the “bick- |
log” of which we read so much in old- N
time stories was a large stone, a porous!
’ stone being preferred if possible. This J
stone was buried in the ashes, and on I
top was placed the “back stick." The |
back stone in those primitive times fl
played a very important part in the I
1 economy of early housekeeping; matches I
were not then invented ; flint, steel cud
tow were th • only means of lighting a
tire or a lamp ; imagine for a moment the
, “Bridget” of to-day thus engaged with
the thermometer ten degrees below zero
' in the kitchen. The stone, together
with the ashes with which it was cov
ered, served to retain fire and heat
i through the night, and all that was nee- ?
essary in the morning was a little kin
dling and gentle use of the indispensa
ble bellows, and a fire was as readily
| made as at the present day.
Back stones were not in much use in
bedrooms and parlors offer the beginning
of this century, turf having taken ittfj
place and served equally well, while
1 taking up less space. The stone login
my possession and which behngetito''
■ >'*y grandmother, and in use down to
within a few years of her death, half a
century ago, is at the service of the Bps-i
! ton Society if they should think it of
sufficient importance. It is not less than
150 years old.— [Boston Transcript.
_. _ M
The Deer’s Slave.
Where there are few deers a big stag is ?
I generally accompanied by a small one, |
who acts as his slave. The duties of tiie v
latter are to watch on a hillock while?;
his master lies in a snug hole out of the j
I wind, and to go in front when there ift q
some prospect of danger. Any negli
, fence is quickly punished by the horns
l or forefeet of his lord. One evening
Ixird Lovat severely wounded a good i
stag, when another fine stag galloped |
1 back to keep him company in his inis
fortune. A bullet finished the wounded, j
beast, but still the devoted friend kept
close by and would not leave the spot.
His lor Islnp had not the heart to shoot
the poor beast after he had given proof of '
such wonderful fidelity, and at last had 5
almost to drive him away.—[Montreal -j
Star.
Force of Habit.
Wayfarer: I beg your pardon sir, I
have lost my way. Will —
Elitor: Lost your way, eh. Well, ;
' why don't you advertise and offer a ra
wurd for it?—Life.
NO. 31.