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She Sawmah tribune.
.Publiahad bv the Tansmra Pnbliihtag 00. 1
J. H. DEVEAUX. Mamxob* >
VOL. 111.
At Last.
What though upon a wintry sea our life bark
sails,
What though we tremble ’neath its cruel
gales,
Its icy blast;
We see a happy port lie far lief ore,
We see its shining waves, its sunny shore,
Where we shall wender, and forget the trou
bled past,
At last.
No storms approach that quiet shore, no
night
Falls on its silver streams, and valleys
bright,
And gardens vast;
Within that pleasant land of perfect peace
Our toil-worn feet shall stay, our wander
ings cease;
There shall we, resting, all forget the past,
At last.
The sorrows we have hid in silent weariness,
As birds above a wounded, bleeding breast,
Their bright plumes cast;
The griefs like mourners in a dark array,
That haunt our footsteps here, will flee
away,
And leave us to forget the sorrowful past,
At last.
Voices we loved sound from those far-off
lands,
And thrill our hearts; life’s golden sands
Are dropping fast;
Soon shall we meet by the river of peace
and say,
As the night flees before the eye of day,
So fades from our eyes the mournful past,
At last.
—[Marietta Holly.
MADE OVER.
BY MBS M. L. KAYNE.
‘‘Hannah,” said Farmer Hull, as he
hustled into the farm-house kitchen,
“be you expectin’ a letter?”
“No,” answered his wife promptly.
“Who'se writ?”
“I dunno, onlcss it’s thet high-flyiu’
sister of yours, Julyett What’s-her
name. Like enuff she is tired of livin’
starched up in the city—’taint enny
place for real human folks, ennyway—
an’ so she’s cornin’ here to make us a
visit.”
“Do she say so?”
“Law sakes, no. Et warn’t put in
the law an’ comman’ments when we
was married thet you was to open my
letters, nor me yourn. Take an’ open
it yourself.”
So Mrs. Hull opened the letter and
began to rea I it.
“Jest as I remayrked,” said the old
man, “ain’t it, Hannah?’
“No,” said Mrs. Hull, handing him
the letter, “es I make it out it’s just the
other way. Juliette wants us to go an’
visit her. She says she’ll stand the ex
pense, and is jest sufferin’ for some
body to make over. Now, what docs
she mean?”
The old farmer read the letter with
much care and painstaking.
“Gol! me goa-vi«iting whar they eat
breakfus in the middle of the day an’
wear their Sunday close the hull week.
I rayther guess not. But, mother, if
you want ter go thet’s anuther thing.
You kin heve the money the old mare
fetched—you nigh about raised Bet
ennyway. I’ll gin ye thet.”
“There’s my new alpaccy,” said Mrs.
Hull thoughtfully. “I’m right glad 1
got a good piece. It's as silk.
But law’s, it won’t be much in the city!
I've heerd that the shop girls there wear
real silk an’ satin every day.”’
“Poor things,’’ said her husband; “it
must*be drctlul to hev to dress to death
all the time. Where’s the ink-horn?
I'm goin’ to write to the children thet
their ma’s goin’ a-visitin’.”
After manifold preparations, which in
cluded a care for every living thing in the
house and out of it, Mrs. Hull was ready
to go and visit her stylish sister, the
rich city widow. She cooked enough to
last two months, and cleaned house and
mended everything mendable. Dan’l
was to keep house with the hired man,
and they both smacked their lips over
the mince and pumpkin pies, the dough
nuts and loaf cake that were to make life
worth living in the absence of Mrs.
Hull.
Then the farmer put on his go-to
meeting coat and drove his wife over to
the cars, and felt as if he was passing
through the most exciting episode of his
life.
Mrs. Hull took it more calmly. With
many parting injunctions to Dan’l to
look after things, she said good-bye,
and when the can started leaned back
on her best alpaca waist and felt a deep
secret joy in her worn heart because she
was going to see the world.
The first thing her sister said to her
was: “Hannah Hull! you’re a fright, I
must make you over.”
“Why, Juliette, I think you’re real
mean,” said Hannah, with some spirit.
“I paid fifty cents a yard for this al
paccy, and my bunnit cost nearly five
dollars.”
“Don’t say bunnit, for goodness sake.
You have no style. You’ve lived down
on that old farm till you look 100."
“I be over 50, Juliette, butthen I’m
only two years older’n —”
“Hush! Never say anything about
your age. It isn’t polite. Hannah, I
must make you over. You won’t be the
same woman.”
Mrs. Hull made such a long visit that
her husband became uneasy. The dough
nuts and pies were giving out, and be
sides he was lonesome. He wanted his
Hannah home again. He didn’t hanker
after the city, but he made up his mind
one day he would go and bring his wife
home.
“The old gal will be glad to sec me,”
he “it’s a most killed
her I expect by this time, sittin’ up so
straight and bcm’ away from nic. I’ll
be boun’ it’ll give her a turn to see me.”
It did. The sister had tried the glass
of fashion and the mold of form, with
wonderful effect on Hannah. She had
also introduced Mrs. Hull into “sassi
ety.”
When Mr. Hull arrived he was shown
into a darkened parlor by a smirking
• maid.
“Have you a card, sir?” she asked
pertly.
“I don’t play keerds,” said the old
man reprovingly, “you jest tell Hannah
there’s a gentleman here to see her.”
“Beg pardon, sir.”
“You needn’t. You hain’t done
nothin’. Jest go an’ tell Mrs. Hull
there’s a gentleman kim to see her.”
The girl went, and the old man
chuckled to himself. He wore his store
clothes and had a baggy carpet-satchel
in his hand. His gray locks hung
about his rugged face and made it pic
turesque.
The door opened and a strange lady
entered with a very pink-and-white
complexion. She wore a voluminous
blue silk dress, and w’alked on shoes
that were mounted on French heels.
Her hair was a wicked yellow.
“Hannah didn’t say any th’ n’ about
enny other woman a-visitin’ here. Who
kin she be?” said he to himself.
As the strange lady advanced at a
queer, hippity-hoppity gait, something
in her presence grew familiar.
The old man got to his feet and
leveled one hand over his eyes.
“Good mornin’, ma’am,” he said, hes
itatingly. “I was expectin’ to see my
wife—Hannah. I kinder thought you
might be her sister. I ain't seen her in
a good many years, but she ain’t ez
young ez you be.”
A shrill, affected laugh that died in
a falsetto shriek greeted him.
“He don’t know me! Juliette, come
here. Dan’l don't know his own wife.”
The old man looked at her attentively.
“Yaller hair on a woman of 50? Red
roses in her cheeks like a gal of 10?
Where’s the old woman that was my
wife, Hannah, down in Injianny? 1 don’t
want no ballet dancer in her place.”
“I’ve tried to be fashun’ble,” moaned
Hannah, sinking into a heap on the
floor.
“I’ve spent hundreds of dollars on
her,” exclaimed her sister, as she looked
on, “and this is your gratitude.”
“You’ve made a ebromeo of her,”
persisted Dan’l; “look at that ha’ar.”
“It's a pompadour,” sobbed Hannah..
“It looks wuss than a barn door; an’
j look at her cheeks !”
“Bloom of youth—one dollar a bot
tle,” grumbled Juliette; “ he's made
over.”
“Hannah!’ exclaimed her husband
seyercly, “I'm ashamed of you!’
“So be I,” sobbed hi> wife, “but if
SAVANNAH, GA., SATURDAY. MARCH 3.1888.
you live in the city you must do as city
folkes does.”
“Whar’s your new alpaccy thet you
thought good enough for the I’resydint’s
wife?”
“In the cluset upstairs.”
“Get inter it, and wash the yaller
outer yer gray ha’ar, and the red offen
your cheeks, an’ kim homo! O, Laud,
km you ever show yer face at conference
mootin’ agin?”
“Dan’l’s a crank,” said Juliette to
her weeping sister upstairs as she tried
to soothe her.
“No, he ain’t! an’ I wus a fool to
think I could bo made over! Sakes
alive! how glad I am to get inter my
own shoes again.”
When Hannah entered the parlor
again she was clothed and in her right
mind. Her husband beamed upon her.
“Gol!” he exclaimed, “I’ve got her
back! It’s the old gal herself this time,
as nat’ral as life an’ cs putty es a pic
tur’! It’s the children’s mother. Hurry
up now, an’ doan git left. I shan’t take
a spec of comfort till I get you safe down
hum agin on the old farm in Injianny!”
—[Detroit Free Press.
On Top of the Great Pyramid.
The views from the Great pyramid,
though at all times sublime, vary with
the courses of the sun and moon. The
first look is for Cairo. It is plainly
visible, with its tall minarets and broad
domes of glittering metal and color, and
beyond it the dark Mokkatam hills arc
seen. A forest of immense palms, far
away upon the border of the Nile, marks
the site of ancient Memphis; still fur
ther south arc the pyramids of Sak
karah, the great “Step” pyramid, “the
father of pyramids,” among them.
Father on is the desert; all around is a
vast plain, now golden, now red, now
in part black, now grey, now changing
as the sun changes, as the great shad
ows of the pyramids are projected upon
it, or as the moon comes with its pale
light, and tones down the grand chro
matic display. The only variation in the
wondrous expanse comes from the molds
of sand hcrcand there. These last change
agreeably to the whims of the wind.
Like draft animals, at one moment they
seem to be restless and waiting for their
call to labor. Then the airy messenger
gives the word. At once the sand be
gins to rise in slender spirals. Body and
strength arc gathered as it continues
whirling and ascending, until it towers
aloft like a great black column. Now
it is joined by a wild company impelled
by the wind, and all hasten across the
plain, all rising higher and higher, all
wavering, spinning with awful velocity
until, their destination reached, they
flare at the top like waterspouts, break
and burst high in air, and are diffused,
a terrible storm, upon the plain below.
Woe be to man or camel on whom de
scends the awful weight.
As far as the eye can sec southward
lies Egypt, the silvery Nile creeping
along between the bands of emerald.
Within view are over forty pyramids.
The pyramid of Chephrcn, ortho “sec
bnd pyramid,” being about three hun
dred feet away, affords one an excellent
opportunity, while seated on the edge
of the Great pyramid, of studying
pyramidal architecture from above.
There seems to be a great abyss between.
The distance is remarkably deceiving.
It is almost impossible to cast a stone so
that it will fall clear of the base. It will
only drop on the side and bound and re
bound, perhaps to the ground.—[Scrib
ner's Magazine.
A Sheep as a Fox Hunter.
Alonzo Bowman, near Lowndeville,
S. C., is a great fox hunter. He has a
pet sheep that stays with his hounds.
The other day the sheep ran through
the race with the dogs. When the fox
was <aught the sheep stepped up,
smelled the fox and butted it.—[Chica
go News.
Solid Meals for an Ostrich
Al -Give ;:.e $5 worth of assorted
hardware.
Ed—Wf -?t do you mean?
Al -That’s all right, my wife has a
pct ostrich. The bird must eat. —Tid-
Bits.
Superstitions About Boes.
It, is amusing to note the super
stitions and fancies concerning bees that
have existed at different times, some of
which still have their faithful adherents
in rural places. There is in Lincoln
shire, Essex and Cornwall, in England
a superstition that bees desert a hive on
the occasion of a death in the family,
unless informed of it by rapping on the
hive. The belief that the hives should
be wrapped in mourning is current in
Lincolnshire. In Northampton the en
trance of a bee into a cottage is deemed
a certain sign of death, and if a swarm
of bcc*alight on a dead tree, or a
branch of a tree, there will be death
within a year. In Yorkshire there i» a
custom of inviting bees to the funeral.
These were doubtless originated from
an observation of the fact that bees are
attracted by the scene of fresh varnish
working on superstitious minds. It is
said by some that bees will never live in
a quarrelsome family. Some think they
will strive if stolen; while in other
places it is considered unlucky to pur
chase bees; that the only way to get
them is to have - them given, catch u
wild swarm, or to slot# them. Acting
on this silly superstition, we have
known good people to go to a neigh
bor’s house, take a hive of bees without
his knowledge, and leave in payment
some other goods, thinking that ill luck
would follow them if money be paid.
In this superstition there, is a shade of
truth. Among such people bees are
got from their nearest neighbors in
the summer, when bees are flying freely,
and carried quietly home. Os course
the old bees return to the old stand the
next day, and their removed hive is un
lucky, because weak in bees for some
time till it can r cuperate. If the col
ony lias already swarmed, as is often
the case, the renaming bees are too few
to build it up into a good swarm that
season.-—[Bee Keeper's Magazine.
The White House Cook.
The cook of the WhioSßlouso gets a
better salary than a New York book
keeper and lie is as much of an artist ns
some of the big chefs of Europe. Ho
builds his dishes with the care of the
painter or the sculptor, and castles and
boats and nearly every object in nature
is represented by him in the form that
the dishes assume on the state-dinner
table.
The cooking of the White House is
done in the kitchen below stairs and
the chief room is directly below the din
ing room. The White House kitchen
consists of two large rooms, hung with
cooking utensils of every character and
color. Ranges big enough to roast an
ox are set into the walls and on these
mammoth kettles and boilers smoko
with an appetizing flavor. A big zinc
table stands in the centre of the room
and the cook ha* a number of assist
ants. He wears a white cap and an
apron, and he takes pride in his calling.
—[New York World.
A Unique Farm Lease.
A doctor in Kent county, Delaware,
leased his farm last year. An ironclad
lease was drawn up, but at the end of
the year the tenant was unable to settle
his account. Au attempt to secure him
self developed to the doctor the fact that
all the goods of his tenant were covered
by a chattel mortgage held by some one
else, and the doctor was “left.” He
again leased his farm, and here is a
copy of perhaps the most unique lease
on record. The names given are fic
titious:
“I, John Smith, do hereby rent my
farm, consisting of 240 acres, more or
less, to Abel Youngman for the year
1888. I, on my pirt, agree to do the
best I can, and I hope Go l Almighty
will let Abel Youngman do the best he
an.”
Velocipedes on Rails.
A trial of a velocipede on rails lias
been made at Pqptin, France, w ith most
satisfactory results, a -peed of twenty
five miles an hour having been reached.
This machine, made for the French en
gineer corps, rests on four wheels of a
diameter of 30 itches. It only weighs
t>B pounds.
[ t 1.26 Per Annnm; <6 cents lor Bix Months;
J 60 cents Three Months; Single Copies
( 6 ceyte--In Advance.
Sponge Fisheries.
The United States consul at Beyroufc
states that sponge fishing extends all
along the coast of Batroon, Tripoli, La
takia and the island of Ruad, north of
Tripoli. The fishing boats arc ge&cral
iy from eighteen to twenty feet long
and have a crew of four or five. The
catch commences in June and extends
to October. The boats remain out from
sunrise to sunset. The divers arc most
ly young and middle aged men; old
men are less adapted for the work,
which is very hazardous and requires
much strength. The time the diver re
mains at the bottom is from sixty to
eighty seconds, unlike the Australian
pearl-shell fishers, who remain under
water for hours at a time. This is in
g eat measure due to the difference in
their respective outfits, for the native
SyiTan diver his simply an open
net around his otherwise unpro
tected body and uses no instrument of
any kind in collecting his sponges; he
cannot be induced to wear the Greek
dress. Syrian divers are superstitious,
and believe that the latter is con
ducive to lameness. Accidents do not
often take place during sponge-fishing.
The divers descend to a depth of from
twenty-five feet to 175 feet; below
those depths no good sponges are said
to bo found. The best qualities are ex
ported from Beyrout to Paris direct, tho
others go almost exclusively to Trieste,
while tho Greeks send their catch to
different markets in Europe. The
average annual catch is estimated at
about $150,000 in value. The local
authorities ex ict a tax of 10 per cent,
from those engaged in this risky trade.
[Pall Mall G izctte.
Dr. Talmage’s Study.
The study of the Rev. T. D Witt Tal
mage is on the second floor of his Brook
lyn home. It has plenty of sunlight,
but other than that is not an attractive
place. The floor is of bare hard wood,
and the walls arc dead white. A big/
table is drawn up by the window', ami
on this arc strewn letters, newspapers),
books, papers, pens, and all the utustl
litter of a man who writes. A stiff
backed cushionless chair stands by the
table. Around the walls are rows of
book-shelves and files of newspapers.
“My workshop," Dr. Talmage calls it,
ami the workshop of a hard-working
man it is. The martager of a largo news
paper syndicate says that Dr. Talmage’s
sermons are the most eagerly sought for,
the most read, ami command the high
est price of those of auy preacher in tho
world.—[Harper’s Weekly.
How $l5O Became $1,500,000.
The Rev. Eli Fay, who has offered to
endow a women’s college at Worcester
with ss)o. 000, was formerly a Unitarian
pastor at Leominster, and is now a res
ident of California. The story of his
wealth sounds like a fable. He left the
East many years ago, on account of hi*
wife’s ill-health, and traveled in the
West. In Colorado he met n friend
and entrusted to him a.small sum of
money, said to be $l5O, for investment/
After a time he went to Lo- Angeles,
raid, it is said, realized $25,000 from hh
Colorado investment. He invested this
money in real estate in Southern Cal
ifornia, and is now said to be worth
$1,500,000. ' B Mon Globe.
Diimley’s Soft Thing.
“Yes,” said Durnlcy, who has recently
received a government appointment,
“I ve got a mighty soft thing.”
“How long,” asked Robinson, “can
you keep this soft thing, do you sup- ■
pose?”
“I can keep it as long as I don’t lose
>my head," replied Dumley. confidently.
—[Epoch. ______
Valuable Hens.
Wis —I found an egg in the coal bin
this morning. That's a queer place for
a hen to lay in.
Husband—Just the place, my dear,
just the place.
W.---Just the place?
IL Why certainly. If our hens be
gin to lay in coal for us, we won’t need
to mind how th* price goes up.---[Bos
ton Courier.
NO. 20.