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@lhe SatJttnnah Sribtfne.
Published by the Tbtbuiwi Publishing 00. I
J. H. DEVEAUX. MaS4O*p >
VOL. 111.
A Son? of Work.
A charming tale was that of old,
For lazy folks by poets told,
That ’tis Love that makes the world go
t round —
Round and round,
With never a sound —
Over and over,
From Sydney to Dover—
Here we go, there we go, till the brain
reels;
Now on our heads and now on our heels;
But we know it is not Love at all
That keeps a’going this cosmic ball;
For oh I
Tis Work that makes the world go round,
And Love only oils the wheels!
Then prate no more of a “primal curse;”
With Eden kept, things might have been
worse;
For ’tis Work that makes the world go
round!
So day by day
We’ll work away,
Plowing and sowing,
Reaping and mowing,
Spinning and weaving and getting of
meals,
Forging and building and laying of keels;
* Slaves and prisoners labor; free men dis
dain
A word so fraught with crime and pain!
Yet oh!
Tis hard to make the world go round,
If love do not oil the wheels!
What know they of rest who never work,
But the duties of manhood and womanhood
shirk?
Tis work that makes the world go round!
When work is done
’Tis time for fun—
Father and mother,
Sister and brother,
Baby and all, with the merriest peals
Greeting the joys home life reveals.
Day’s work brings peace and rest at
night;
For Work means Duty and Duty is right!
And oh!
’Tis easy to make the world go round,
If love will but oil the wheels!
—[F. W. Batchelder.
JUST IN TIME.
“Elma Griffin, died April 15, 1849, aged 19
years, 4 months and 6 days.”
The words were engraved upon a sil
ver plate, but there was no collin under
them. Mrs. Purroy, an elderly lady,
visiting friends living on Clinton ave
nue, Almeda, but whose home is in
Brooklyn, N. Y., looked with an air of
mingled pride and reverence upon the
carving, for her name was once Elma
Griffin, and the coffin was made to hold
her remains.
“On my nineteenth birthday,” she
said, “my mother invited a number of
acquaintances to our house to celebrate
the day. We lived some distance out
side of Williamsburg, as it was then,
and the ground was a little soft and
boggy. One of my friends remembered
this as she was about to start home with
her brother, and she laughingly con
gratulated me on being housed already
and having no occasion to brave the
swamp. I was a wild young girl in
those days, and I declared at once that
I would go with them and return alone.
Everybody present tried to dissuade me
except the girl’s brother. We started,
and when I reached my friend’s house I
was conscious that my feet were quite
wet, and that a disagreeable chill had
crept over me, but I declined an invita
tion to go in, and went away at once.
Os course Rob—the brother, I mean—
came with me, and somehow I forgot
the cold and damp as I walked home.
“I think we must have talked for a
long time as we stood on my uncle’s
door-step, for suddenly Rob—my escort,
I mean—said: ‘Elma, your face is very
pale. Have I kept you standing here
teo long?’ He talked to me for ten min
ufcs after that, and then wished me good
nigjtt and left me. I rang the bell, and
when my mother opened the door I told
herjjwhat I might have known an hour
soonfty, if I had given it a thought, that
I wdFreally ill. She hurried me to bed
immediately, and when she came to call
me the following morning she looked
very anxious. By noon I was delirious,
bufcl could hear the doctor tell my
mother I had typhoid fever, and that he
could nut hold out much hope for my
recovery. J knew that my mother was
weeping, hut I was always a selfish girl,
and 1 could only cry out: ‘Robert, Rob
ert.' Wberu h Robert? and they told
SAVANNAH. GA.. SATURDAY. NOVEMBER 5.1887.
me, hardly thinking that I heard them,
that Robert had been suddenly called
upon to start for California early that
morning, had not even heard of my
illness. He sent a letter to me, how
ever, but I did not see it until many
weeks later.
“I grew rapidly worse, and gradually
the knowledge of all outward things
passed from me. I fancy that I had a
certain consciousness, but not of mut
ters around me. I was in another state
of being, in which the person acting and
speaking—always strangely speaking—
was myself, and yet not myself. Then
came an utter blank, from which I awoke
after nearly three weeks of oblivion, to
see my mother and the doctor standing
by my bedside. The doctor said the
crisis was past and I should probably re
cover, but I did not feel any interest in
what he was talking about.
“The quiet days of convalescence fol
lowed, and the doctor, seeing that I was
very weak, regarded me seriously, and
warned my mother that a relapse should
be carefully guarded against. I used at
that time, too, to fall into curious physi
cal conditions that I suppose were
trances, in which I knew all that was
going on around me, but from which I
did not seem to care to arouse myself by
moving or speaking. These periods
lasted longer and longer, but they were
not observed, and as they were rather
pleasant than otherwise I said nothing
about them.
“One morning I awoke from what
seemed to be a natural sleep, and lay
with my eyes closed listening to sounds
that I could not at first interpret; but
slowly the knowledge came to me that
my mother was sobbing beside my bed.
I tried to ask her why she was grieving,
but I could not move or speak. The
trance was upon me. I was sensitive,
however, and knew that [ was lying upon
a hard substance and not upon the com
fortable mattress of my bed. I could
feel, too, very little covering over me,
and despite my eyelids being down the
gloomy darkness of the room could be
detected. ‘Where in the world have
they carried me to?’ I thought.
“Presently I heard my mother’s voice,
and I knew that she was speaking to my
cousin Mary, who was staying in the
house with us.
“ ‘Poor Elma,’ ” she said. ‘I was so
sure that God would spare her to me.
She struggled through that dreadful
illness only to die quietly in her sleep at
last. It is very hard, Mary.’
I have often wondered since that I did
not really die of horror at that moment,
as I realized like a lightning flash that
they thought I was dead and had put
me in my coffin. They were going to
bury me. I strove hard to speak, but’
the sphinx was not more dumb than I.
I tried to stir, but the rock of Gibraltar
might have moved as easily. Must my
life be smoothered out in a grave for
want of a little speech or action now?’
I thought.
“ ‘lt is hard, indeed, dear aunt,’ re
plied Mary, ‘but His will be done. You
must arouse yourself. The undertaker
will close the coffin in a few minutes.
Do you think Robert—Mr. Purroy—will
be here?’
“ ‘I hardly think so now,’ answered my
mother, wearily. ‘Something must have
happened to delay him. He was to have
arrived at home yesterday, but he did
not come, and I postponed the burial
until to-day. He had not heard of her
death. Poor fellow! The news will
nearly kill him. There is one person in
the world, I think, who loved poor
Elma as dearly as I did.’
“ ‘O, Robert, Robert,' I tried, w h a
silent voice, ‘come quickly. L you look
at me you will know I am not dead.’
“I heard a knock at the bed-room
door. Was it Robert? No, it was only
the undertaker.
“ ‘May I close it now, ladies?’ he asked
in professionally mournful but very busi
ness-like tones.
“Nobody but myself knew that my
heart was beating, and even I hardly
knew it as the undertaker spoke. A sec
ond afterward it seemed to me that it
throbbed loudly enough for everybody
to hear it, for somebody rang the door
bell and I knew us well that it was Rob-
ert as though my sealed eyes could have
looked through brick, and wood, and
mortar to see him standing outside.
Softly and quietly he entered the room,
gravely and calmly he asked my mother
and my cousin to leave him for a few
minutes alone with his dead. He closed
the door after they had gone out, and,
stooping over the coffin, gently kissed
me. Then he started. I heard the quick
nervous mov ment, and I knew fliat 1
was saved.
“lie hastily called my mother and the
doctor was quickly summoned. He saw
at once that life was not extinct, though
he had been just as positive four days
earliqr that I was quite dead.
“My husband declares that an old
woman may say it now—that 1 blushed
and smiled when he kissed me. At all
events I lived to marry him, mid he
would not part with that silver coilin
plate for ten times its weight in gold.
—[San Francisco Examiner.
Introduction of the Brahma Fowls.
In the year 1846, a Hartford man, a
Mr. Chamberlain, saw, on the docks in
New York, on board of an East India
man just in from a long voyage, and in
possession of a sailor, some fowls. They
were clearly of the Asiatic family, but
different from the Shanghaei, Chitta
gongs, and Cochin Chinas, with which
he was familiar. So he bought them,
and took them home. His business,
however, interfered with his bringing
them before the public, so he parted with
them to Mr. Virgil Cornish, then of
Hartford, subsequently of New Britain,
who propagated them successfully until
he had a fine stock. They were not
brought out until 1852 at a great poultry
show in Boston, where they received the
name Brahma Pootra, because they
had come from a port near the
mouth of a river of that name. They
were highly appreciated at once,
on account of their great beauty, line
form and large size. They helped
greatly to boom the so-called “hen
fever,” which had been prevalent, ami
was beginning to flag. One of their
distinguishing peculiarities is the triple
comb—a central comb, rather low set,
and a small comb on each side of it, ami
becoming one with it above the base.
Somewhat similar combs had been no
ticed occasionally in other breeds of
Asiatic fowls and the Malays had a
clumsy, irregular triple comb, which had
been called a “pea comb,” for what rea
son it is rather hard to tell. The Brah
mas all possess the comb described in a
small and beautiful form, almost without
exception, and this is called a pea comb
from its triple form. They exhibited
from the very first that peculiar thorough
bred look which marks thoroughly well
bred, pure-blooded animals of all kinds.
Coca Culture.
Coca, a shrub growing wild on the
mountains of Peru and Bolivia, is coming ;
into extensive cultivation <:n account of
the rapidly increasing demand for co
caine, the principal alkaloid obtained j
from its leaves. The plant resembles ■
i the tea-plant, is cultivated in rows
I like Indian corn, and in two years at- i
tains its full height of five or six feet,
bearing leaves about two inches long,
with white blossoms and red berries.
i The leaves are gathered several times a
year, and the bushes produce for many
years. The peculiar virtues of coca as
I a nerve stimulant have long been
J known, not only to medical men, but to
the Peruvian Indians and miners, who
chew the leaves mixed with quick-lime,
much ns tobacco is chewed, and who
are thus enabled to resist fatigue to a
. remarkable degree. It was not until
1860, however, that the active princi- ,
pie was isolate!, while the great vaue
of cocaine as*a 1 >cal aniesthetic was
accidentally discovered only sone three
years ago.
A Bail Temper.
“There’s a girl lives hi it door to us,” !
remarked Brown, “who must have a bad
temper.”
“What leads you to suppose su?” ,
asked Jones.
“Well, she bangs her hair, and I fre
- ijiieptly hear her bunging the jiiauo.— |
I [New York S’.m.
Duels Among* German Students.
The police authorities of the university
towns, says the St. Louis Globe Demo
crat, make no earnest efforts to stop the
duels if they are not brought under their
notice directly, and the fights sometimes
take place in beer halls in the town
even. Generally, however, the students
go several miles away from the univer
sity, and the citizens discover that a
“mensur” has been going on only by see
ing the next day a number of students
with gashed and bandaged faces walking
the streets. Serious injuries are very
rare in duels with the schlaeger, and a
student who is really bloodthirsty when
he thinks he has been mortally offended
resorts to the pistol or curved sword,
like a Turkish eimetar. Only a few in
stances of fatal duels, even with these,
have occurred at the universities. The
schlaeger would boa weak weapon
against a broadsword, or even a cavalry
saber or a navy cutlass. Fighting with
it,the duelists must not move from their
positions, and there is, consequently,
little display of activity of the body.
The blow with the schlaeger is not a cut
or a thrust. It is a cut with only about
one foot of the end of the blade, which
is all of the sword that is sharpened,
and then a twist of the wrist. The wrist
does all the fighting.
There are only five cuts with these
schlaeger for the student to learn. All
the others arc variations. The first cut
is directly for the top of the head. II
it hits, a piece of the flesh, ami some
times a part of the skull, comes out. A
cut for the forehead and nose is another.
If it reaches the flesh a serious wound
and permanent disfigurement may fol
low. Duels have been known in which
a nose was sliced off completely, and
had to be sewed on again. Two more
cuts are directed at the right and left
sides of the face. These blows may lay
open the cheek, cut out the teeth, cut
the lips off or touch the nose, as the
schlaeger Is made of such thin steel
that it bends around like a whip when
a hit is made. Another, and the most
difficult hit to make, is an under cut,
aimed at the chin and mouth. It may
do great mischief to all the lower part of
the face, but it cannot touch the jugu
lar vein, as that is protected. Alto
gether the schlaeger is a mere brutal
weapon of offense, without any great
power to kill, and dueling will continue
as long as students at German universi
ties regard the possession of strength
and endurance as the only certificates of
honor.
The Land of Lakes.
Finland is, in the language of the
country “the land of lakes,” and this is
really the truth,as no less than one-third
is under water. Much of this is, how
ever, marsh land, though the lakes Sai
ihu, Ladoga, Enara, etc., cover some
thousands of square miles. The surface
of the country is flat, with a chain of
low hills about the centre, the highest of
these being the mountain Aavasasa. The
coasts are deeply indentured and pictur
esque, withhold, granite cliffs, stand
ing out against the clear, blue sky, and
many islands belonging to the Archi
pelago of Aland dot the surface of its
western waters. Inland there are dense
forests of pine, fir ami birch, which have
a strange and enthralling influence on
the imagination. Notwithstanding their
usually sombre aspect, there are in
numerable pleasant rtce-,ses of these
woods, where* the * . tall, white
stemmed birch and great bowl
ders, covered with lichens, crop up
from the gruss and form a pleasant pic
ture; beside this, the lakes have a beau
ty, solemn and romantic, which can
scarcely be found elsewhere. The land
scape, too, dotted with numerous wind
mills and the church towers, built apart
from the places of worship, present
strange pictures. From these towers the
night watchmen sound their horns or
play upon triangles a- an alarm of fire.
-•-[Cottage Hearth.
A Rare Day.
Railroad President Any surprising
news down the road this morning, Rob
ert?
Secretary—Yes, indeed, sir! Not a
single train wrecked!—[Life.
-J" -
j *1.25 Pnr Annum; 75 cents for Six Months; '
50 cents Three Months; Single Copies !
1 5 cents- -In Advance.
A Natural i islri:ig-Linoj|
In some of the Chinese shopsJß
are sold, for about one cent eachfl
toils of translucent, yellowish ||
from live to ten feet long. Wh®
and dry they are rather
when they have been soaked fft
minutes in warm water it> -whiefi
has been boiled, they toughen, air«
bear the strain of a four or live f
weight. They are used as fishing] ;
and are reckoned the best for era*
coast. They are unwittingly suj
to the fishermen by a butterfly.'
large and beautiful Atlas moth,
pink stripes and six glowing ere
m its brown wings, flits about anl
it- egg- on the tallow trees. Tim!
hatch in the sunshine, the tiny cat
lais come out and feed on ths
leaves, and grow to be four inches
and an inch thick. They arc of a I
pale greet, color, with a horny
head, and jaws, mid with eight pal
legs. The six legs on the thorai
jointed, and each ends in a claw, i
the other live pairs of legs nre telej
cal, and end in disks surround*
minute hooks. The caterpillars c
back downward, along the leaf-s
ami devour a leaf in a twinkling. 1
they are full grown, and ready to
the cocoons, in which they would
themselves and change into butte:
the Chinese boy may pounce on 1
slit them across the back, und drau
the two spinning glands whicl
looped along each side of the
cavity, close under the skin.
glands, when extended, are about
!< < t long and a tenth of an inch t
dwindling to two fine threads that
near an orifice under the mouth, v’
the silk is spun out. They nre fd»
the clear viscid substance, that woie
spun into the cocoon. After If
drawn out whole, through the sil
the back, the glands are dropped!
vinegar, to remove their outer coal
mid are then stretched to doubj
treble their original length. When
they form the fish-lines sold iq
shops. [Swiss Cross.
A Revenue Cutter. |
“Pa, what is a revenue cutter?” a|
a ten-year-old who had been real
about a new government vessel.
“Come with me and I wilbshow*
my son,” replied his father, wh
banker.
Then he led the boy into his ptj
office, and taking down a hhge pa
shears which he used to sever rod
from bonds with, he continued: ’
“There is the most approved, rev
cutler I know of, my son. Ben,
boy and some day you nujt be
maniler of a pair and find plea
business for them.” -[Elmira Gazel
Discovering Her “Funny Bone
A wee maiden, as many other I
children have done, had the misfol
to fall down stairs the other day, an
landing at the foot that part of
anatomy commonly denominated I
‘funny bone” camo in contact withj
wall with more force than was calcul
to make a comfortable impression,
being picked up ami asked if shei
hurt, she rubbed her arm for a mpn
and said. “No, but -my elbow* is aj
dizzy.”—[Buffalo Courier.
All Business.’
Clara.—“ And there comes G*
Gussie now, dear papa, to get ycuv <
sent.” ..
Papa. —“Georgy <Tu«s;e! what dd
know about Georgy Gussie? I.<r|
business man?"
Clara. —“He’i all business, papa. ’
perfectly devoted to money gflj|
You just ought to hear how he pn
your thrift in amassing a great fdrf
[Bazar.
It Needed Putting to Sleepy
“I see, remarked Mis* Keel*
turning around on the piano stool, “
the Duke of Suxe-C'oburg-Gothaj
compose rni'sip very readily.”
“1 think I'll invite the Duke
then," replied her father, “there’#
music about the house that sadlyO]
com KftUag. —iPilfeburg- L
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