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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 ..... NO. :t.j