Newspaper Page Text
'jimnnnuli <Lvibtmc.
Published by the Tbibotb Pnbh»hi> s Go 1
J. H. DEVBAUZ, Manaoxb. ' I
B. W. WHITE, Solicitor. {
VOL. 11.
] N #WLY FITTED UP.
I ÜBORINgIeN’S HOME
I Restaurant & Lodging,
M Wm. B. Brown, Proprietor,
|| 182 Bryan St., SAVANNAH, GA,
fl Meals at all hours. Choicest brands of
fl trines, liters and cigars always on hand.
' Bi:.N N JLTT’JS
I HUHN HAIR EMPORIUM.
fl Ladies’ and Gents’ wigs made to order,
fl Also Fronts, Toupees, Waves, Curls,
fl frizzes and Hair Jewelry. We root and
■ makeup ladies’ own combings in any
desirable style. We have character Wigs
md Beards of all kinds to rent for Mas
querades and entertainments. Ladies and
children Hair cutting and shainpooning.
Also, hair dressing at your residence if
•equired. We cut and trim bangs in all
of 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. JONES
AT STALL HO. 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, ktgi
prices are reasonable and satisfaction is
Kiaranteed. Goods delivered if desired.
ON‘T FORGET, STALL NO. 31.
CREEN GROCERY.
HENRYFIELDS
THK OLD RELIABLE
(rREENGROCER
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
band 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.
Bwada delivered if desired.
fob good
JOB PRINTING
-40 TO TUB—
SAVANNAH
TRIBUNE.
Envelopes,
Business Cards,
Statements,
Posters, I
And in fact everything
in the Job Printing line
neatly and cheaply ex- I
ecuted at short notice.
Satisfaction guaranteed.
Cive us a cal!.
Why Do I Love Thee?
Why do I love thee?
Ask the bee that sips
Nectar divine from out the willing flower
Why it abideth upon those open lips,
| ‘Wherefore it wingeth around that elfin
bower,
And when thou dost this sunnv secret know
r hou wilt not marvel that I love thee so,
>' Why do I love thee?
Ask the ir eadow green
Why it doth love the flower that blooms
above it
Whose sweet perfume or rainbow-tinted
sheen
O’erspread their charm above the fields that
love it,
And when thou dost this tender secret
know
Thou wilt not marvel that I love thee so.
Why do I love thee?
Ask the bird that sings
Os smiling skies and valleys rose-embowered
Why from his heart his happy carol
springs,
Why on the air its melody is showered,
And when thou dost this joyous secret
know
Thou wilt not marvel that I love thee so.
Why do I love thee?
Ask ths artist crowned
With fairest thought, his rare ideal growing,
Wherefore he stands upon enchanted
ground,
Why his proud eye with rapture light is
glowing;
And when thou dost this subtle secret know
Thou wilt not marvel that I love thee so.
Why do I love thee?
Ask of him who hears
Sound-woven poetry of strains elysian
Why heart and soul do melt with unshed
tears,
Swayed by the magic of the rapt musician;
And when thou dost this wondrous secret
know
Thou wilt not marvel that I love thee so.
Why do I love thee?
Ask the burdened heart
Weighted with sin, forlorn and anguish
riven,
Why, as the tears from out the eyelids
start.
Peace comes in gazing on the star-pure
Heaven;
And when thou dost this holy secret know
No longer marvel that I love thee so.
ON THE FARM.
John Ramsey was working on his
farm, his careless, loose dress displaying
to advantage his tall, muscular figure.
A broad straw hat shaded his handsome
face. The hands that guided the plow
were strong hands but whiter and more
delicate than such pursuits usually al
low.
Daisy Hale sat watching him. Her
dress was print, but made with flounces
on the skirts and rufllei on the waist.
She wore a jaunty hat, covered with
puffs of white muslin and bows of blue
ribbon to match the spots upon her
dress.
The face under Daisy’s hat was
gloomy, not to say cross. A very pretty
face, but not pleasant, having a petted,
spoilcd-child frown and a brooding dis
content in the large blue eyes.
Presently the farmer drew near her,
and, taking off his hat, fanned himself
with it, while he stopped his horses and
leaned indolently against the plow.
“You look deliciously cool under this
great tree,” he said. “And—hem!—
very much dressed for 9 o’clock in the
morning!”
“Inao-penny calico,” she said con
temptuously. “It is too absurd for you
to be plowing and hoeing and milking
cows and doing the work of a laboring
man! I thought when you came home
from college you would do something
besides work on a farm.”
“Ana let the farm go to ruin. That
would be a poor way to pay my debts.’
“Your debts!” she said, looking as
tonished. “Do you owe debts?”
“Certainly! You and I are both very
heavily in debt, Daisy. I think when
Auot Mary took us in, poor little or
phans, I her nephew, you her third
cousin, all the money she saved in a life
of hard work was spent upon our edu
cation. Do you know that she has noth
ing but the farm, and that to take her
from it would probably shorten her
lifer’
“But you could send her money, if
you were in the city in some gentlemanly
occupation.”
•‘Perhaps so, ten oi twe.ve years from
DOW. To-day I propose ,!■"> work this
SAVANNAH, GA.. SATURDAY, AUGUST 6.1887.
farm and see how many bushels of corn
I can raise on it.”
He took hold of the plow handles as
he spoke, started the horses, and left
her, her eyes full of angry tears.
“He might as well have said what he
meant,” she thought, springing down
and starting for the house. “He thinks
1 ought to cook and make butter and
work like a servant girl, when I have
studied so hard and tried to make my
self a lady, that he might not be ashamed
of me.”
As she drew near the house the sting
of John’s words penetrated more and
more through the crust she had drawn
over her heart, until a fresh stab had met
her at the door. Looking in at the open
door, she saw a white head bowed in
weeping, a slight figure shaken by sobs.
Quickly through all the selfishness,
self-reproach struck at the girl’s heart,
and in a moment she was on her knees
beside the low chair, her arms around
the weeping woman.
“Oh, Aunt Mary, what is it? Oh
please don’t cry so! Oh, what has hap
pened?”
“Why, Daisy, dear”—through sobs
that would not be checked at a moment’s
notice—“don’t mind me; I’m only tired,
dearie—only tired.” 5
“Now, I will darken the window,”
Daisy said, and you are to rest! Sleep,
if you can, until dinner time.”
“But, Daisy, you cannot make the
dinner.” ,
“I will try,” was the quick reply; and
Aunt Mary submitted.
Washing the potatoes, shelling peas,
frying ham, making coffee, all allowed
thought to be busy, and Daisy sighingly
put away some of her day-dreams over
her homely tasks.
She had taken off her flounces and hat
and put on a plain dress and large check
apron before she began to work, and she
was rather astonished as her kitchen
duties progressed to find herself happier
than she had been since she returned
home.
When John came to dinner he was as
tonished to find Aunt Mary “quite
dressed up,” as she blnshingly said, in
a clean print dress and white apron, her
dear old face showing no sign of heat or
weariness, while Daisy, with added
bloom and bare white arms, was carry
ing in the dinner.
“The new girl, at your service,” she
said saucily, as she pulled down her
sleeves. “Dinner is ready, sir.”
But her lips quivered as he bent over
her and whispered, “God bless you,dear!
Forgive me if I was too hasty this morn
ing.”
John said but little as the day wore
on and still found Daisy at her post. It
was not in the nature of things for Aunt
Mary to sit with folded hands, but it be
came Daisy’s task to inaugurate daily
naps, to see that only the light work
came to the older hands, to make daily
work less of a toil and more of a pleas
ure.
And the young girl herself was sur
prised to find how much she enjoyed
the life that had seemed to her a mere
drudgery.
Once more came a June day when
Daisy sat in the fields and John stood
leaning against the fence beside her.
Four years of earnest, loving work
had left traces upon both young faces,
ennobling them, and yet leaving to them
all the glad content that rewards well
doing.
Many hours of self-denial both had
met bravely, many deprivations both
had borne well. Daisy wore a black
dress and upon the hat in John’s hand
was a band of crape, but through a sad
ness of their voices there yet rang a tone
of happiness.
“You love me, Daisy?" John said to
her.
“When have I not loved you?” she
answered.
“And you will be my wife? Darling,
I have long loved you, but after Aunt
Mary was stricken down with paralysis
1 would not ask you to take up new
duties. Now she needs you no longer,
and you shall leave the farm whenever
you wish.”
“Leave the farm? Ob, John, must we
leave it? I thought it was yours now.”
“So it is.”
“And you have made it so beautiful,
as well as profitable! Oh, John, why
must we leave it?"
“Only because I thought it was your
wish.”
“It would break my heart to go away.
I love my home.”
And John, taking the little figure in
to a close embrace, wondered if any city
could produce a sweeter, daintier little
lady than the one he held in his arms.
Acupuncture.
Shampooing, acupuncture or piercing
of the body with needles, and the burn
ing oftuoxas on the skin have from the
earliest times formed the staple of Jap
anese surgical skill. The blind and
dumb have always been educated in the
first two, and have acquired extraordi
nary skill as shampooers in many mus
cular and intestinal complaints. They
are allowed to combine music and
money lending with their main calling,
and go about toward evening with a low
whistle for a street cry. The best of
these shampooers know all the superfi
cial muscles, and their services arc called
in for headache, hysteria and paralysis.
Degrees, too, were conferred on them,
with ceremonial robes and white wands
surmounted by wooden balls. The
medical school, established A.
D., 669, had a Professor of
shampooing with ten pupils and an
other of acupuncture with 20. In 820
five acupuncturists were attached to the
imperial palace, being paid by the
month, a<nd obliged to keep up their
knowledge of their own subject as well
as of the pulse, surgery, botany, and
prescribing by studying particular books.
Acupuncture is not an invention of the
Japanese—the first treaties upon'lt being
attributed to a Chinese under the Sung
dynasty—-although the form of the nee
dles used and the mo e of their employ
ment have been much improved upon by
them, tubular needles, for instance, were
invented in 1689. It should not be for
gotten that Asclepiades, in the first cen
tury of our era, recommended needle
puncture for dropsy. The operation
consists in driving gold, silver or steel
needles, from one-half to three-quarters
of an inch into the flesh. The needles
are of various forms and have spirally
grooved handles for the better twirling
of the instrument. The operator holds
a needle lightly with the le't
hand resting the point upon the
skin of the patient. He then in
serts it by a slight tap on the handle,
given 4dth a small wooden mallet held
in the right hand. The needle is then
gently pushed aud twirled until it
penetrates to the proper depth, and after
a few seconds is slowly withdrawn in
the same manner, the skin about the
puncture being subsequently chafed for
a few moments. The number of
perforations made at one time varies
from one to twenty, aud they are
oftenest made in the abdomen, to which,
however, they are not confined; special
treatises laying down the spots to be
pierced in various diseases, - an 1 one
division of study distinguishing on the
back the so-called hollow spots (more
than a hundred in number; when the
ends of the nerve-fibres arc found—for
the application of the needle or the
moxa. A faint effort was made to intro
duce the Japanese needles into England
and France in 1825, but although
combined with electricity, it came to
nothing. lWestminst?i It:view.
His Good Name.
Bilkins—“Bickiey is very angry with
you. He says you have been making
remarks about him that have injured his
good name.”
Bagley— “Indeed?"
Bilkins—“Yes; he prizes his good
name very highly.”
Bagley—“He does? Well, I don’t.
1 have it on three notes and have
learned not to prize it at all.” — [Judge.
Wortli a Trial.
An Austrian phy»;c an < »ys that nine
times out of ten headache can h» al
most instantly cured by a
spoonful of salt dissolved in a quantity of
water sctiicient to enable the sufferer to
drink it.
(*1.25 Per Annnm; 76 cents for Six Months;
< 60 cents Three Months; Single Copies
I 5 cents' -In Advance.
PEARLS OF THOUGHT.
The heavens are as deep as our aspira»
tions are high.
The talent of success is nothing more
than doing what you can do well with
out a thought of fame.
Hope is like the sun, which, as we
journey towards it, casts the shadow of
our burden behind us.
Every great and commandiflg move
ment in the annals of the world is the
triumph of enthusiasm.
It is better to have thorns in the flesh
with grace to endure them, than to have
no thorns and no grace.
He who doos a base thing it zeal for
his friend, burns the golden thread that
ties their hearts together.
An irritable man lies like a hedgehog
rolled up the wrong way, tormenting
himself with his own prickles.
Purity, sincerity, obedience and self
surrender—these are the marble steps
that lead to the spiritual temple.
Misfortune is never mournful to the
soul that accepts it, for such do always
see that every cloud is an angel’s face.
Revenge is a debt, in the paying of
which the greatest knave is honest and
sincere, and, so far as ho is able,
punctual.
He who decides in any case, without
hearing the other side of the question,
though he may determine justly, is not
therefore just.
A Medicinal Honey.
About three years ago a distinguished
French naturalist M. Guilmeth, who was
traveling in Tasmania, came suddenly
upon a grove of gigantic eucalyptus
trees, from 260 to 390 feet high, and
with a trunk so large at the base that it
took forty of his Kanackas, joining .
hands, to reach around one of them.
High in these lofty trees he discovered
what he at first took to be enormous
galls, but which he soon ascertained to
be the dwelling-places of swarms of
small, black wild bees of a variety be
fore unknown to him. Besides being
black and smaller than the ordinary
honey bee, this wild bee has its layguet
rather more developed than that of the
domestic bee. M. Guilmeth attempted
unsuccessfully to domesticate it in Tas
mania. He caused some ol these im
mense trees to be felled, and secured tl.e
honey. The largest individual store of
honey weighed as much as 11,000 pounds
avoirdupois.
The honey is described as a thick,
homogeneous, somewhat linnsparent
syrupy liquid of a deep orange color;
having an odor suggestive at once of its
containing eucalyptus principles. As
the result of experiments on himself and
one of his friends, Dr. Thomas Caramnu
states that, on taking a tablcspoonful of
the honey in a little tepid water or milk,
after a few moments one perceives a
gentle, agreeable warmth take possession
of the whole person. At the end of ’
half an hour, the elimination of the active
principles by the air passages having be
gun, the voice becomes clearer and the
breaQ? perfumed; the lungs feel more
elastic, more supple. Having continued
the use of the honey for a wc< k, four
tablespoon fulls daily, the autboi, who - *
speaks of himself as respectively fleshy,
found that he could go up two pain of
stairs, two steps at a time, without stop
ping to take breath or feeling at all
blown.- [New York Medical Journal. *
Illustrious Sons.
Homer was the son of a farmer.
Demosthenes was the son of a cutler.
Oliver Cromwell was the sen of a
brewer.
Milton was the son of a money scrive
ner.
Cardinal Wolsey was the son of a
butcher.
Shakesjieare was the son of a wool
stapler.
Christopher Columbus was the son of
a weaver. J&i
Daniel de Foe was a hosier, and the
son of a butcher.
Whitefield was the son of uu inn
keeper at Gloucester.
Robert Bums was the son of a plow
man in Ayrshire.,—[lndianapolis News.
NO. 42.