Newspaper Page Text
VOL. XIX.
COLUMBUS, GEORGIA, SUNDAY, OCTOBER
1877.
NO. 251
, Hi; valdher life-boat,
Ii.irk ! a distant gun i* soundng
h , r tlic water*, wildly bounding;
Kiuting wave* are f. at .urruunding
r >in« wr cited ship to-uight.
On th* slrore, tlio breaker*, roaring,
1. ltd nS ttiiinder now a o pouring;
y a r a signal liigh i* a< aiing,
bike a phantom light.
j! „,n and rtars their aid denying,
i. it loseek the living—lying—
w ,io. to prayer* and tear* replying,
A III the tempest race 1
n!i 'or some bravo ocean-ranger,
V, do would, thr, rah the cold and danger,
(i , t i save, pcrchanc , o e stranger !
,- ilance, for a spac*.
II ik! the life-boat bell is linking,
( allaut II ca are wildly springing,
I ,, . .1 home—their all—they’re flinging,
i tfie lost they save,
b l.ets now are brightly flashing;
iugh the thing! - sharply < rashlng,
ihf the Life-boat’s swiftly dashing,
Heaven guard the brave!
Through the night, that wanes so slowly,
“Little ones,” in accents holy,
Mothi ■rs, wives, in dwellings lowly,
lJrcatho their heartfelt prayt r.
When the stormy sea Is swelling,
Aching hearts in regal dwelling.
All rliuir priJe and power quelling,
Kn cl a* hclple** there.
Wlille the torches, dimly burning,
^bow the tide at last is turning,
Hundreds wair, for tidings yearning,
Watch, with eager eyes :
gee ! the lirst faint glimpse of morning
The diin eastern sky adorning;
Hark 1 the soldiers’ bugle, Warning
That the sun doth rise.
Then a little speck grows clearer,
lirawa—it seems but slowly—nearer,
Seen by those to whom ’tis dearer—
Known to them too well !
Brighter now the moon is growing,
Clearer, still, and clearer, throwing
Light upon the billows, showing
'Tie Do dream we tell.
Fast the fatal sands they’re leaving;
Hail ! the life-boat proudly cleuviug.
Where the angry sea i* heaving
Mountain waves of foam,|
Onward, homeward, quickly n3ariug,
’Mid the ringing, doafnlng cheering,
Loving words of welcome hearing,
Uriet the conqueror* homo.
Far away the wreck is lying;
lint they firing, ’ntuth colors flying,
Five poor Frenchmen, spared from dying,
Safe to England’s iste.
Euglisli hands they’re warmly pressing,
liuglish children they’re carossing.
Asking, praying Heaven’s blessing,
With a tear and smile.
Pimple words tell acts of daring—
Unknown heroes laurels wearing,
lirothcr-liko all honor sharing,
Now aud evermore.
Speed the life-boat, England's ilatighter*;
bless her path across tlio waters;
Tel! her gallant deeds of glory;
Spread the trnthful, noble story.
Far from England's shore !
—Chambers's Journal.
AUTUMN IN TUIa WOOES.
Kvory hollow full of ferns,
Turning yellow in their turns;
Straggling brambles fierco aud wild,
Yielding berries to the child;
Oakhalla tumbling frcui the tree,
lleech>nut. dropping s lently.
Hosts of leaves come down to die,
Leaving openings to the sky;
Bluebells, fox gloves,gone to sood,
Everything to death decreed-
Nothing left of flowers or buds;
Such is Autumn in the woods.
And so is there an Autumn kuowu
To the heart. It feels alone,
Kca-iug its best days are ) ast;
Secs the future overcast;
Fond acquaintance broken through,
Friends departof, friends untrue;
Human flowers cold and dead
Covered by a grassy led;
Hopes, late blossoms I utting out,
Withering soon, and ting about
By cruel wind*; dread doubts and fears
Finding vent io sudden tears;
Y'es, there Is ac Autumn kuowu
To some hearts thus left, alone.
Y’et, there’s this thought after all—
Ferns may fade aud leaves may fall,
Hearts may change or prove untrue,
All may look 113 these words do—
Though sad Autumn here is given,
Spring-time awaits the just in heaven.
66
CO.
55
CHAPTER I.
“Dart, Maitland, Dari & Co.” .
So tho name stood upon the groat brass
plate ; end in these names had the busi
ness of the bank been prudently and
profitably conducted for as many years as
tho majority of the inhabitants of High'
borough could recall.
Trade panics had laid waste many
another long-established firm; bank
ruptcy had swooped unexpectedly upon
many a houso where wealth had seemed
as limitless as here; but the bank of
Messrs. Dart, Maitland, Dart & Co. held
its head high above all treacherous waters,
and stood unmoved and utterly secure
after the heaviest gales had passed.
Tho name of the firm was a passport of
trnst and reliance, as well as a prompt
introduction to tho first society of the
country ; and the present representatives
wore these: Maurioe Dart, the senior
partner, a handsome man of fifty years,
who imagined that tho wishes, the weak
nesses and the hopes peculiar to other
men would not move him now; and Wal
ter Maitland, both in appearance and
manner a strong contrast to his senior
partner. Though but ton years younger,
lie looked nearer thirty than forty, and
tho frankness of his blue eyes, and the
gay words so prompt upon bis lips, seemed
doubly frank and doubly gay, contrasted
with his senior's reticence and gravity.
The third partner was one in name alone,
liis father’s death bad left him a rich
share in the bank, but his only intercourse
with it was the polite periodical acknowl
edgement of its having swept away the
debts which wore the worst enemies he
had bad to fight since he entered the
army. About the “Co.” there was of
course that vagueness which isinsepera-
ble from the cognomen. In the outer
world it was supposed that an unlimited
number of peoplo had invested their
savings or their patrimony on purpose to
be considered “one of the firm.” But
among the clerks, only one case was
known with certainty. He was neither
the oldest nor the most experienced,
though the most cheerful, perhaps, and
the most industrious. He had deposited
in the firm the sum which his father,
through a forty years' course of valued
and profitable managership, had accumu
lated to bequeath to him; and so, being
enabled to draw what doubled his salary
as clerk, Tom Leslie looked upon himself
as a partner of no mean order, and built
l uty castles for a time when his name
should stand upon the brass plate other
wise than as “Co.” Cheerfully and con
stantly he erected these edfices; but to
a. erupt to lay their foundations on terra
—ma, either by saving or speculating,
cever entered Tom’s head. With his
Mother—a little old lady, as hopeful and
er ^ u 'i aQ d trustful as he was himself—
* a a Pretty white cottage be-
.‘J lUe town i and there he had flowers
in w G ^ eat t0uu ^» birds, that sang
ln tile gloomiest weatho- a . 8
which he was ^ ’ and 8 p,ftn ° on
fis recnki-i mean performer. And
round Ton/ f 8 , . Satnrda J morning came
should tit. “ anner: “ r think we
out to diunl C t °" ple 0f youn 8 er fellowa
L moth t0 '^rrow—shouldn't we,
P. I heir salaries are not like
mine;
6 &d things are dear, yon say.”
True, their salaries were not like his,
but then he would not have the small,
bright house, nor the small, bright moth
er, denied any comfort he could think of,
and so there was never one penny of
Tom’s salary left when tho year was np.
Once or twice, Mrs. Leslie would in
quire, luefully, where her son picked up
the dinnerless clerks whom he delighted
to bring borne to supper—or, as he always
called it, “lo a little music.” But her
genial hospitality was, after all, as prompt
as his: and so, though she kept the ac
counts, there was, as I said, never a
penny of Tom’s salary left when the year
was up. “He thinks that £100 a year of
his is a king's revenue,” thought Mrs.
Leslie, one Saturday morning, watching
her sou cross the road, drop his gift into
the expectant hand of tho crossing sweep
er, and turn at the corner to nod to her.
“He will soon expect me to adopt a few
young men whose salaries are less than
his own. If he had but inherited his
father’s saving nature !” She tried, to
regret this dolefully, but, after all, she
could not help the warmth of perfect sat
isfaction filling her eyes.
Even his practical father had rejoiced
that his nature was his mother's from the
time that nature began to assert itself in
little Tom—“Little Tom’’ then to his
parents; “Little Tom Leslie afterward
among his schoolfellow*; “Little Leslie’
now among his fellow clerks.
On this particular Saturday morning as
he walked to the bank, Tom loitered a
little iu one street—a quiet street of
handsome private houses, before one of
whieh stood a couple of c&bs piled with
boxes. Tom waited long enough to bo
sure the cabs bore nothing but luggage.
Then be walked briskly on, and, entering
the bank excitedly, told his fellow clerks
of the arrival of the colonel’s household;
and, for fully five minutes forgot, in his
excitement, to add his genial invitation
for the morrow.
When the coming of the regiment had
been discussed, and Tom’s pleasant invi-*
tation accepted, he turned to his desk,
not to loiter again throughout tho day.
An hour afterward Mr. Dart drove up,
and, with a quiet “Good morning,’’
passed through the bank to his own pri
vate room. Here presently Mr. Maitland
joined him, and standing before the fire,
discussed various item3 of town news—
among them, of course, the arrival of the
regiment.
“Colonel Conyngham has only one
daughter. We must help to introduce
her. Young Dart having once belonged
to the regiment, gives, it, as it wore, a
claim upon ns.”
“Tho colonel’s daughter will need but
little introduction,” remarked ^Maurice
Dart, quietly. .
CHAPTER II.
“Dart, Maitland, Dart <fc.Co.”
The naums stood unaltered on the great
plate; yet—except the sleeping partner
away in India now—each one represented
by that sign was perfeotly aware that a
great alteration had been growing in him
self over since Colonel Conyngham and
his daughter had been living in Highbor-
ough. The strong bank walls no longer
limited his hope and ambition. Beyond
them stood revealed a home of love, and
ease, and sunshine, brightly possible; and
in this fnture the only mission of the
good old bank was to furnish the home
withjuxury.
It was a winter night. The bank win
dows were bolted and barred, the great
books were locked in the trnsty safes, and
the manager was asleep np starirs, with
the blunderbuss beside his bed. But in
his brilliantly lighted drawing-room at
home the senior partner sat alone—a
striking looking man in his evening
dress, with the hothouse flowers fading in
his coat. The room had been filled with
guests up to this time, but now Mr. Dart
sat alone before the fire, buried iu a
thought which deepened minute by min
ute, until the door was opened, and Wal
ter Maitland re-entered the room he had
but lately left.
“I could not help coming back,” he
said, beginning hurriedly to speak, as if
the words forced themselves from him in
nervous haste. “There isone thing about
which I must speak to you to-night—
about which I have wanted to speak to
yon for a long time. I feel”—he was
leaning against the chimneypiece oppo
site his friend, and looking with intense
scrutiny into his quiet face—“that I have
been dreaming a dream which a word of
yours could this moment dispel. To tell
me is a greater kindness than your si
lence, though tho kindness is sure to be
the motive cf that. Tell me at once,
Dart. It cannot be very pleasant to you
to see my anxiety. You are far too goed
a fellow to feel pleasure in that.”
“What am I to tell you?” inquired Mau
rice Dart, without meeting his compan
ion’s eyes.
“Surely you know. I said to myself
that when I met Isabel here in your home
to-night I would find out if my fears
were well-grounded; aud if I could not
discover I would ask you for tho truth be
fore I left. Dart, end this wearing sus
pense on me. It has been growing on
through all these months side by side
with my love, and become unbearable at
last."
Maurice raised his head now, aud met
his companion’s anxious, questioning
eyes. “I am glad you have spoken, Mait
land,” he said. “I have guessed at your
anxiety, while I have felt my own; and I
have often wished to break the silence we
have held on this one point. I fancied
yon had something to tell me. I fancied
so but now, when I saw you reenter the
room.”
“Indeed, no,” exclaimed Walter, with
his usual frankness. “I wish to heaven
I had. I wish I dared to say that Isabel
had given me encouragement enough to
make me even hope. And I could not
ask her to—to love me while I felt that
you know how useless it would be.”
“I do not knov/,” returned Dart—his
words sounding very slowly after Wal
ter’s eagerness, yet all his self-command
failing to hide their new ring of hope.
“Isabel has never heard a word of love
from me. She is gentle and kind and
winning always; bat I cannot read be
yond.”
“To me, too, she is bright and pleas
ant always,” pat in Maitland, restlessly;
“and I can discover nothing more. I
fanoied yon could put me out of one
phase of this uncertainty.”
“And you are very glad to find that I
cannot,” said the elder partner. And
then their eyes met with a smile which
was strangely wistful for such strong and
manly faces.
“Dart,” said Mr. Maitland, “you are
the elder man—the richer—the better,
too. You shall speak first. Do it as soon
a3 you can.”
“Seniority has no claim in such a case
as this,” said the senior partner. “We
can wait.”
“I can wait no longer," put in the
younger man, impatiently. Anything
will be better than this suspense. Why
on earth should we wait? Isabel knows
ns both thoroughly now. She knows we
are both too old for this love of ours to
be anything but deeply earnest. She
knows enough of us and our positions to
make her decision easy to her. So let ns
know the worst, or—best. You have the
right to speak first.”
“I will not take it,” said Mr. Dart,
speaking more quickly than he had yet
done. “Let us write. Let ns write—to
gether.”
A few minutes silence, while Walter
thought this over—leaning his head on
the arm which rested on the chimney-
piece.
“Let that be decided,” urged Maurice;
“We will write to-morrow. Let her re
ceive the two letters together, that she
may think of us together. Promise tno
that your letter shall be ready for to-mor
row’s post.”
“I promise,” said Maitland, raising his
head again. “Thank you for this ar
rangement.”
CHAPTER III.
The firo roared and cracked cheerily
in the private room at the bank, but nei
ther of the partners had arrived.
“I never knew him to be bo late,” re
marked Tom Leslie, as if finishing,aloud,
a puzzling conjecture.
“Who—old Dart?”
“Mr. Dart. Yes.”
“Leslie feels it incumbent on him to
uphold the dignity of his partners,” put
in another clerk. “His breast swells
proudly with a fellow feeling.”
“What an idle set you are, this morn
ing?” remarked Tom, turning from his
desk with a quick, kindly smile, which
made his face eo pleasant to look upon.
“As soon as I am senior partner I shall
give all a sweeping dismissal.”
The listeners laughed, enjoyed tho ab
surdity of the idee; and one or two ques
tioned him, with mock anxiety as to the
treat he intended to stand them on the
occasion. Through all the laughter Tom
pursued his work, and Dart noticed this
when he entered the bank; and, though
it was but very curtly, he answered Tom’s
quiet greeting, yet before he reached the
inner door, he turned and spoke to him.
“Cool outside, Leslie. Keep up good
fires. It is hard,” he muttered to him
self, to pass him without a word.” Then
Mr. Dart let the spring door close behind
him, and sitting down to his office chair,
leaned on one arm only—as very calm
men do when they are ill at ease as well as
tired. He was sitting so, looking moodi
ly down into the fire, when Mr. Maitland
entered the room. The senior partner
did not turn to greet him; aud even when
Walter stood upon the rug beside him,
he did not venture to meet his eyes.
“Maurice, ” began the young man, “I
suppose I may congratulate you. It is
rather hard; yet no one ought to do it as
heartily as I—I, who know what a good
fellow you are, aud what a wife you have
won.”
A glance of surprise into his friend’s
face, and then Mr. Dart spoke in a few
words, as was his custom.
“She has refused me, Maitland.”
“Refused you?”
Walter repeated the words, though not
increduously. Only truth, he knew,
could have weighted them so sadly. “She
has refused me, too,” he said. “She has
never cared for me bnt as a friend—sim
ply and only as a friend.”
“In a few kind words to me,” said Mr.
Dart, without looking up, “she told me
that she had given her love elsewhere. I
was trying, when you came in to prepare
myself to tell you, ‘I rejoice in your hap
piness, Maitland.’ And now you—ycu
come and say the same to me.”
Buried in oue long, sad thought, the
partners in the good old firm sat in their
silent room, while the work and pleasure
of the world went on without. But the
day’s duties had to be gone through, and
these were not the men to shun them
selfishly.
“I suppose we had better settle with
Leslie about this holiday,” remarked Mr.
Maitland that afternoon, sending to sum
mon Tom to the partners’ room. “He
will lose every glimpse of summer if he
waits longer.”
“He should not have postponed his
holiday. He had his choice. Well, Les
lie, when do you wish to start?” inquired
the senior partner, when Tom entered
the room.
“You said about the middle of October
and this is the 20th.”
“Thank you, Mr. Dart, but if it would
make no difference, I should rather take
my holiday from the 29th.”
“Then it is to be hoped you are going
on a visit,” remarked Walter Maitland,
pleasantly; “for November days are not
the pleasantest for a tourist.”
“I am not going on a tour, sir,” Tom
hesitated only a moment; then both his
listeners were conscious of a new earn
estness in his voice; “I should like to
tell you, gentlemen, why I want my holi-
day then. The 29th is to be my wedding
day.”
Mr. Dart returned quietly to his wri
ting. Mr. Maitland arose from his seat,
and moved to the fire, turning his back
to Tom. Before the eyes of both the
partners here hovered a face which had
led them, too, to dream of a possible
wedding, day-dreams from which they
had so lately been awakened.
It wonld be hard, with these memories
rising thick, to talk to their favorite
clerk of his good fortune; yet it was not
Walter Maitland’s nature to let any sel
fish feeling prevent him.
‘Indeed, Leslie,” he said, “I am sur
prised; but very glad, of coarse, to hear
it. I prognosticate every happiness for
your wife. Of course I cannot do so for
yon until I know who she is.” f
“You know her very well, gentlemen,’
said Tom, flashing. “Her father, Colo
nel Conyngham, is my mother’s consin.
We have rarely visited them except when
hey were alone, because—at my moth
er’s cottage, of course, we could not en
tertain their guests. We have always
been—as old friends and relatives should
be; and I have always loved Isabel. But
it was necessary for us to wait a little.
Though it would be difficult for you to
realize the fact, gentlemen, a marrisga is
an expense and debt ”
“You can go Leslie,” retnatked Mr.
Dart, without raising his head.
“And the holiday, sii?’’
“Take yonr holiday, when you choose,
only don’t make such a fuss about it.”
“And is there nothing more you in
tended to say to me, Mr. Maitland?” in
quired Tom.
“I should say,” remarked Walter, with
a jealous anger in his eyes, “it is an ir
reparable mistake you are making to mar
ry on your income, unless you had cho
sen a wife in your own position and used
to Euch a life as your mother’s.”
“My mother’s life was such a life as
Isabel’s at Isabel’s age,” said Tom,and for
a moment his face was really handsome
in its flush of honest pride; “and Isabel
has known what my mother’s life is for
many a year past. Would I marry her
under aDy false pretenses?”
“I presume, then thnt Miss Conyng
ham knows tho extent of your income?”
asked Maitlund, with compressed lips; “or
have you, in your foolery, been repre
senting yourself as a partner in this
bank? Her eyes are open to the folly of
what she is doing, eh?”
“She knows everything, sir,” rejoined
Tom, his eyes much puzzled, and a little
angry; “and she does not call it folly.”
“Ycu can go.”
The clerk left the room, closing the
door quietly behind him.
“They must have had harrassing let
ters, he said to himself, trying to account
for the partners’ impatience. “They
have a good deal of anxiety which we
subordinates are spared.” And thinking
this, he took his seat and wrote away
more diligently than ever, while his fel
low clerks wondered over his mood.
“Leslie ought to go.”
These were the words which at last
broke tho silence of the room whieh
Tom had left.
“Yes.”
Then the day’s work went on to its
close, and the partners, separating at the
bank steps, went their several ways
thinking very longingly of one to whom
both been faithful. This was
the first night for many months which
either had spent without these bright,
vague dreams of what his home might be
with Isabel at its head; and their hearts
were filled with resentment against the
winner of the prize which they had cov
eted. “You knew this morning that she
was to marry some one else—why should
your thoughts be harder, now that you
know who has won her?” So a voice
seemed arguing with them, but,below all,
the angry thoughts surged on.
“For him to be the one to gain her—he
a paid servant in the bank!”
CHAPTER IV.
When Mr. Dart reached the bank, next
morning, worn and harrassed after his
sleepless night, he found that Maitland,
contrary to his usual custom, had arrived
before him. Though the two friends
greeted each other as usual, most unusual
silence settled presently upon them both.
Eventually the seuior partner, making an
effort, remarked on the coldness of the
weather; and his companion, putting
down a letter which ho held, answered
leisurely. But his pleasant blue eyes
were restless and rather dim, and the mo
ment the answer was given the silence
wrapped them both at once.
For an hour the office clock had ticked
a solo in the quietness, when Walter
Maitland rose slowly from his chair, with
tho Times unfolded in his hands, and
letting the paper fall, came and stood
upon the rug beside his friend, who had
just reentered from the bank. Very
gently he laid his hand on his senior’s
shoulder.
“Dart, old friend! I want to speak a
few words to you iu great earnestness.
Since we met, yesterday morning, I have
grown to feel quite certain of one thiDg
—quite. The time has not in reality
been very long, but it seemed so, and
gave mo plenty of opportunity for
thought, and what I have grown to feel
sure of is this: I shall never marry now.”
“Nor I,” replied Maurice, meaning it
as men do not often mean the phrase,
though they utter as firmly.
“I—fancied not. Now we are both
wealthy men, Dart,” continued Walter,
bravely and gently, “and this wealth we
offered, a day or two ago, to Isabella
Conyngham. You guess what I am go
ing to say? Shall she benefit by our love
for her?”
The senior partner looked up slowly,
questioning. A thought which had been
haunting him all night made the full
meaning of these words quite plain to
him.
“Yes, I see yon have felt this, resumed
Walter, quietly, “just as I have felt it.
I see that rey words only came as an end
ing to your thought. I understand how
it put itself to you. Leslie has invested
all his father’s savings—all his patrimony
as one may say—in our bank, and spends
his whole days here most conscientiously,
most trustworthily. All he draws for
this cannot keep a house which we—yon
and I—like to picture as Isabel’s home.
And then his mother has to be provided
for. You think, Dart, that it would not
hurt us, and could not make any differ
ence to Captain Dart, who has no voice
in any bank matters—if Leslie had power
to draw what would keep them comforta
ble. In short—in short, old fellow! you
would make him equal partner with me.”
“With ourselves,” said Mr. Dart,s^Pt-
ly—“with ourselves, you meat? If we
were ali equal partners ”
“Let us discuss it this afternoon.Think
it all over till then, Maurice,” put in
Walter, feeling that the senior partner
shonld have time to make his decision;
we will talk it over again.”
The disenssion was held that afternoon
in the partner’s private room; then Tom
was summoned to hear the result of it,
Though not a long interview, it was one
impossible to describe; for how con’d
any words show the ntter failure of Mr.
Dart’s effort to maintain his grave reserve
through Tom’s extravagant, boyish, hum
ble, proud, ridiculous gratitude? Or de-
soribe Walter Maitland’s persistent
(though always disregarded) assurance
that, as Mr. Dart had decided to make
this arrangement, he was very glad to ac
cede to it? And, after that interview,
who could repeat the promises Tom made
to his fellow clerks when he told them
of his marriage? Or tell how he reached
home in half the usual time, and put his
arms around his mother, with his eyes
full of tears—just as if he had been
thirteen instead of thirty?
But above all, who conld describe Isa
bel’s mute, wondering gratitude to the
two men whom she had given such pain?
“I am very, very grateful, Tom,” she
said, appealing to him with tears thick
upon her lashes; “but I would rather not
talk about It—yet. Let me have time to
think of it.”
Q rick to understand her wish, and del
icate in carrying it out. Tom left Isabel,
delighted that his news had moved her so
—yet wondering over it a little, too—be
cause the secret of the partners was so
safe in the keeping of the girl whom they
had—not unworthily—loved. But hard
est of all wonld it be to describe how
brilliantly bofore Tom’s eyes that night
there came a vision of that identical
brass plate which really met him
face to f&ce when, after his holidays, he
first reached the heavy, familiar doors of
the Ilighborough bank—“Dart, Maitland,
Dart & Leslie.” “Co.” was no more.
Mixttjee of Textile Fibres.—The de
tection of cotton in woolen fabrics may
be accomplished by simply raveling out
what is suspected to be cotton fibre from
the wool, and then applying flame; the
cotton will burn with a flash, the wool
will curl up, carbonize, and emit a burned
disagreeable smell.
Even to the naked eye, the cotton is
noticeably different from the filmaments
of wool, and under the microscrope this
diff erence comes out strongly. The cot
ton is a flattened, more or lees twisted
band, having a very striking resemblance
to hair, which,^n reality, it is—since, in
the condition of elongated cells, it lines
to the inner surface of the pod. The
wool may be recognized at once by the
z’gzag transverse markings on its fibres;
the surface of wool is covered with these
furrowed and twisted fine cross lines, of
which there are two thousand to four
thousand in an inch.
Finally, a simple and very striking
chemical test may be applied, namely, by
unraveling the mixed goods, then placing
a little cotton fibre in one dish and the
wool in another, adding a drop of strong
nitric acid. The cotton, under these cir
cumstances, will be little or not at all af
fected; the wool, on the contrary, will be
changed to a bright yellow, the color be
ing due to the development of a pierate.
Iron and Steel Processes.—At a meet
ing of the Technical society for Metallur
gists in Dusseldorf, the subject of iron
and steel from the ore was considered in
all its bearings, and among other facts,
one of the speakers asserted that this
recently devised process had actually
found greater application than that of
Chenet, Gault or Siemens. After ex
plaining the principles upon which the
reduction of the ore was based, he re
marked that the sponge obtained was
melted in a cupola furnace, and then
mixed with molten cast iron in a Martin’s
furnace. Unfortunately the sponge, as
it floats on the surfaoe of the cast iron,is
greatly subjected to the oxidizing influ
ence of the air. The cost of production
is about thirty-five dollars per ton, exclu
sive of the cost of the ore, and requires
about a ton of combustibles per ton of
iron; the product is said to be of the
finest quality. Owing to the fact that the
temperature in Ibis process does not rise
as high as in that of Chenot, Siemens
and others, the phosphorus, sulphur and
other impurities are not extracted from
their combinations in the ore, and conse
quently do not contaminate the iron. This
utilization of poor ores makes the process
in question preferable to others—though,
even in this case, the quality of the pro
duct depends much on that of the ore.
Oils fop. Generating Steam.—An ap
paratus for the combustion of oils for the
generation of steam has been recently
described in the English papers, aud
which is at least novel. The means em
ployed in this method are of a simple
character, and consist first, of an open
vessel, flat shaped, composed of fire clay,
which is placed upon and covers the fire
bars in an ordinary furnace. In and up
on this vessel are formed projections, of
a conical shape, which projections have
holes passing completely through them,
so as to allow of a free passage of atmos
phere for supporting combustion in ali
parts of the fire or flame.
A range of small steam pipes, like half
inch gas pipes, is laid along the bottom
of thi3 vessel, having fine holes pierced
therein, at the required intervals, for the
emission of numerous small jets of Bteam.
This range of pipes is put in communi
cation with the boiler, and regulated by
means of a valve or stop tap. Another
pipe is in communication with the cistern
or reservoir of oil, and another with the
water supply, the oil supply being made
self-acting by means of a ball tap, thus
insuring simple and complete mechanical
stocking.
To start this apparatus, a little water is
first let into the vessel, and then as muoh
oil as will nearly bring the liquid to the
top of the range of steam pipes,that is to
the depth of three-eighths or half an
inch. The oil is then lighted, and the
steam turned on, and according to the
force and quantity will be the intensity of
the flame produced, giving a very perfect
combustion at all pressures. In starting
a boiler when cold, it becomes necessary
to borrow steam from another boiler for
a short time, or to raise a few pounds of
steam at the expense of a little smoke.
The use of the water is found of great
service with the very heavy hydro-car
bons, in assisting to produoe perfeot com
bustion. The oil being the heaviest sub
stance, the water rises to the top,and thus
retards the combustion of the oil, nntil
it escapes through the water in the form
of gas.
—There’s one melanoholy fact about a
calendar—there’s no time when its days
are not numbered.
Children’s Column.
PUZZLES FOR THE UI1II.DICEN,
For the Sunday Enquirer.
E.VIGYIA.
I am composed of 21 letters.
My 19, 20, 21, 22 is to look crooked.
My 13,14,15 is a vessel.
My 23, 25, 20, Id, 11 is something very useful.
«y i,«. 7 is something useful in Summer.
My 2, 7, 3, 9 i» a fine white substance.
My 5, l, S, 12,10, | ertaining to tho tongue.
My 18, 21, 22 Is a kind of grass.
My 27, 6, 17 Is something worn on the head.
My whole is an old proverb.
Mattic Ber it.
A CROSS-WORD PUZZLE.
My first is in halibut hut not in rock.
My second is In perch but not in haddock.
My third is iu anchovy hut not in muscle.
My fourth is iu turbot hut cot in barnacle.
My fifth is in taylor hut not iu sole.
A well-known fish you’ll find my whole.
ANSWERS.
Answer to Numciical Enigma No. 1, by Lula,
last Sunday—Blanchard & Hill.
Answer to Numerical Enigma No. 2, by Lula,
lust Sunday—Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.
Answer to Diamond Puzzle, by Lula:
II
BEK
HENRY-
ERA
Y'
For tho Sunday Enquirer.
A Tribute to tlie Memory of l ittle
May, Daughter of Mr. Wm. llintle.
Hied Monday Eve, Se; t. 24 ( 1S77, of
Typlioid Fever.
BY TWO LOVING FSIENPS, SI. AND L.
Stern, silent doath his shaft hnth sent,
Iuto our midst and claimed his prey,
Wilt thou, grim monBter, ne’er relent,
Nor cease to take loved ou03 away.
We lovod her well, sho was cur pet,
To hrigh’en life this child was Scut,
We loved her well, wo love her yet,
But vain our sighs aud tears are spout.
No taint had sho of earthly clod,
This hut to earth was lent, not given.
So fresh and pure from hand of God,
To bo transplanted Whence to hcaveu.
Oh! F’ather, teach us how to say,
Thy will he done, and bow aud strive;
To think of our dear friend, sweet May,
As near thy throne, she will e’er live.
Her prosence seemed to brighten days,
Her loss makes all seem cold aud dark;
Farewell, doar mate, sweet, lovely May,
Death surely loves a shining mark.
A Baby.
Did you ever watch a dear little baby
waking from its morning nap? It is one
of the prettiest Bights in the world.
There is the crib with its small prepara
tions and snow-white drapery that covers
something outlined round and plump.
There is nothing to reveal what it is; not
the slightest movement of the pillowed
whiteness that is visible—no sound to in
dicate keenest actual life, until the min
ute hand of the clock that stands senti
nel, like yourself, has twice made its cir
cuit. Then there is a slight pulsing in
the white drapery, a thrust out, and
from the nest thus broken into appears a
round, diminutive face, with wide open
eyes that have not much speculation in
them yet; soon, however, they cease to
stare, and become questioning, serious,
as if wondering wbat kind of a world it
is they open upon; and the head lifts it
self a little, and two 6now-white feet
stand np spasmodically, with a simulta
neous movement, each toe of which bis
an attendant dimple. But the bead is
heavy—it falls back on the pillow with its
own sweet weight, the hair all damp and
golden—the cheeks peachy—the month
just pouted, as the angels kissed it in
dreams. A first lingering g-o-o comes
from its rosy depths, sweeter than any
bird's song, for it Las a spirit tone, and
yet retains a thrill of its own native
skies. The chubby hands are lifted im
ploringly, persuasively—the baby is
awake, and ceases to bo an aDgel.
A Story for Girls.
Sit down on th9 porch children, and
let me tell you about’ Aunt liachel and
the story she once told me. One day
when I was about twelve years old, I bad
planned to go after strawberries, but
Aunt Rachel said to me:
“A girl of your age should begin to
learn how to do housework. Take off
your hat, roll up your sleeves, and help
me do the baking.”
I pouted and sighed and shed tears, 1 ,but
was encouraged by the piomise that I
might go after the baking. Under good
Aunt Rachel’s direction I mixed a
big loaf of bread, placed it on a tiu ts
bright as a new dollar, and was rubbing
the flour off my hands when she called
out:
“This will never, never do, child—
you haven’t scraped your bread bowl
clean.”
I shall never forget the picture she
made standing there, her eyes regarding
me sternly, one hand resting on her hip,
while in the other she held the uutidy
bowl.
“It will never do, child,” she went on,
“it is not only untidy, but it makes too
much waste; to be a good housekeeper
you mu t learn to be economical. You
have heard the story of the young man
who wanted an economical wife?”
“No,” I answered, and I might have
added that I didn’t wish to hear it either.
“Well,” she continued, “he was a very
likely young man and he wanted a careful
wife, so he thought of a way he could
find one. One morning he went to call
upon the different girls of his acquaint
ance aud asked them each for the scrap*
ings of their bread bowls to feed his
horses. You see they all wanted him, so
they got all they could for him. Finally
he found a girl who hadn’t any, so he
asked her to be bis wife, because he
thought she must bo economical. “Now,”
said Aunt Rachel, triumphantly, “sup
pose a young man should ask you for the
scrapings of your bread bowl, wbat could
you say?”
“What could I say?” I repeated scorn
fully, “why I’d toll him if he couldn’t af
ford to buy oats for his horses they
might starve. I wouldn’t rob the pig to
feed them.”
I suppose Aunt Rachel thought that
lesson was lost on me; but as true as you
live I never knead the bread to this day
without thinking of her lesson in econo
my. Ave Nik.
AN OPEN LETTER
TO THE PUBLIC.
New York, October 1st, 1877.
I have devoted twenty years of patient
study to the Liver and its relations to the
human body, in search of a remedy v hich
would restore it, when diseased, to its
normal condition. The result of that la
bor has been the production of
HITT’S LIVER PILES.
Their popularity has become so extended
and the demand so great as to induce un
scrupulous parties to counterfeit them,
thereby bobbing me of the reward, anil
tho afflicted of their virtues.
TO CAUTION THE PUBLIC,
and protect them from vile impositions, I
have adopted a new label, which bears
my trade-mark and notice of its entry in
the Office of the Librarian of Congress,
also my signature, thus:
a-
tSTTo Countebfeit this is forgert.
Before purchasing, examino the label
closely.
THE GENUINE TUTT’S PILLS
exert a peculiar influence on tho system.
Their action is prompt, and their good
effects are felt in a few hours. A quar
ter of a century of study of the Liver has
demonstrated that it exerts a greater in
fluence over the system than any other or
gan of the body, and when diseased the
entire organism is deranged. It is speci
ally for the healing of this vital organ
that I have spent so many years of toil,
and having found the remedy, which has
proved the greatest boon ever furnished
the afflicted, shall they be deprived of its
benefits, and a vile imitation imposed up
on them ?
Let the honest people of America see
TO IT THAT THEY ARE NOT DEFRAUDED:
Scrutinize the label closely, see that it
bears all the marks above mentioned, and
buy the medicine only from respectable
dealers. It can be found everywhere.
Very respectfully,
tf W. H. TUTT.
NEW
Grocery Store
J. S. JONES’ OLD CORNEA.
The Place to (let the Worth of Your Money.
No Old Goods—Everything
New and Fresh.
C. D. HUNT
B EGS to Inform the citizens of Columbus
and surrounding country that he has just
opened at the above well-known stand a choice
and well selected stock of
Staple and Fancy Groceries,
wnieh will be offered to city and country cus
tomers at the smallest POSSIBLE MAR
GINS,
Wijl also keep on hand a good stock of
DOMESTIC DRY GOODS, BOOTS,
Shoes, Crockery, &c.
49-ALL GOODS DELIVERED FREE OF
DRAYAGE.
My brothers, W. P. and B. II. HUNT, are
with me, and will be pleased to serve their
friends and the public. ool4 BE&wlm
For Sale or Rent, Cheap!
T HE place known a* the PERRY PLACE,
six miles east of Columbus, on thoOusseta
road. Good Dwelling and out-houses ; 2t 0
acres of cleared land.
Apply to T. B. KING,
Talbotton, Ga.; or
£ep::0 8KJiwlm J. F. POU, City.
GARDE ESING.
A NY'NICE JOB in the trade above put up
In the beat style by E. NOLF.
Otaret, Sweet and Scuppernong Wines sold
by the saiuo at moderate prices.
Apply at CHARLES LeQ.U1N’S.
8ep3'l 8E3t&U2taw2w
New Drug Store on Ran
dolph Street.
I HANE opened a new DRUG STOKE
on Randolph Street, next door east of Gil
bert’s Printing Office, where 1 will keep a
good stock of DRUGS, CHEMICALS. PER
FUMERY and TOILET ARTICLES, Ac.
Perscrlptions put up at all hours—day and
night. At night I may be found either at tlie
store or in my room above it.
ocl4 oedlm V. F. DIXON, Affent.
CLOAKS!
BEAYER—Extra Long-$3 50 to $20.
MATTLASEE do. $5 00 to $30.
French Worsted do. $7 50 to $12.
Largest Stock in the City!
—AT—
J. ALBERT KIRVEN’S.
oc7 eod&wtf
III
i.i -0*5ts; a.. 1
1-3 i&Sgf l3 g ~'| li£
e*** O Cj a ** ©■*» rj Zf J- _
So -c— 3 ^«CS§M
B3 J, o*- a cs3
► o t ogoSjS
u rs a 0 Jo
Cndliin r* *
a S3»oS = UI^ -2-5
/Vtt : :
S 05 s oof col 02 i
gCOSwMglwiHl
gftlJt-H? M , M-
X * c. r or a r
H ^lWSW|WlWiH
wtfL 1*3
9* Sold in Columbus by A. M. BRAN
NON and H, D. HOOD A UO.
[augl4 dAwtr
SILKS !
—AT—
Kirven’s.
SOLID COLORS $1 00
BLACK and WHITE STRIPES.... 75
COLORED STRIPES 75
BLACK GR03 GRAIN $1 00 to 3 00
“ Cashmere 48 in. wide 1 00 and 1 25
“ “ 40 “ 65 to 1 25
“ ALPACAS 25, 30, 35, 40, 50
and up to 1 00
J. Albert Kirvcn.
oatT eodfcwtf
CLOTHING.
GOOD NEWS! GREAT ATTRACTION!
NEW STOCK OF 1
FALL and WINTER CLOTHING
JUST RECEIVED SUT
THORNTON & ACEE,
83 and 85 Broad St., Columbus, Ca.
Men's, Boys and Children's Fall and Winter Suits of ail kinds,
MEN and BOYS’ FURNISHING GOODS, UNDERWEAR, Lo.,
Now in Store and to arrive. 750 of those Celebrated, Pertoct-Fltting.UnUunder^ LINEN-
BOSSOM SHIRTS at Dcllak Each—the best Shirt ln t h» "aarkat for tlie money.
Bosoms of Fine 2100 Linen (three ply), Bodies of Wamiutta Muslin, all ““'sbed and com
pleted, Fit and Quality warranted. A large and complete stock of Man s, B ..
HATS and CAPS of all kinds, TRUNKS, VALISES, UMBRELLAS and WALKING
t, fl2&.jgass^.gaggg |,EM g” 10 or -
New Fall Winter
CLOTHING.
HOFFUN & BEO.,
88 Broad Street, CJolximtons, Cia.,
Have Just Received one of the Largest Stocks of
Men’s, Youths’ and Boys’ Clothing
EVER BROUGHT TO COLUMBUS, WHICH WILL BE SOLD AT UN
PRECEDENTED LO IP Rill CES.
Men’s Suits from $5 to $35; Boys’ Suits from $2 to $18;
Men’s and Boys’ HATS from 50 cts. to $5.
Our Excelsior Unlaundried Shirt, all finished, the best
In the market, for SI-OO. Business and Dress Suits
made to order, and satisfaction gauranteed.
sep2d eod3m
DRY GOODS.
SPEC IALTIES
-AT THE
NEW YORK STORE!
Royal Globe” Alpacas; .
Guinnet’s BlackSilks;
Lupin’s Black Cashmeres.
Kid Gloves! Corsets!
N.
GORDON & CARGILL
B.—Remember there is hut one NEW YORK STORE
in Columbus.
scnia oedtf
G. & C.
JOSE
NO. SO BROAD STREET,
■Wliolesale «to Retail
Factory Goods, Sheetings, Shirt
Ings, Stripes, Jeans, Cassimeres
and Tweeds’ Linseys.
Carpets, lings, Blankets, Flannels,
Quills, Curtain Lace, Ladies’ Dress
Goods, Silk Velvet, Black Dress
Silks, Colored Silks.
Cashmere, Alpaca, Mattlasse, Debeges
and Brilliantes.
Ladies’ Cloth and Kid Boots;
Ladies’ Cloth and Kid Slippers;
Ladies’ Walking Shoes;
Ladies’ Kid Foxed Button Shoes;
Gents’ Fine Boots;
Gents’ Fine Congress Gaiters;
MEN'S AND BOYS BOOTS AND
SHOES,
All Grades and Prices.
0
OD
a
u
N
AT WHOLESALE
3V£.
Ladies’ Kid Gloves, Ladies’ Merino
Underwear, Ladies’ Night Gowns
and Chemise.
Baby Drosses, elegantly made and
trimmed; Child Slips;
Hosiery for Ladies and Children’s
wear—great variety;
Fine Gents’ Wool Hots;
Common Wool Hats;
Fine Gents’ For Hats.
Linen Table Damask, Linen Towels,
Linen Handkerchiefs;
Ladies’ Corsets—all styles;
Shawls and Cloaks for Ladies and
Children;
Balmorals.
BED TICKING, COLTON FLAN
NELS;
Gents’ Merino Shirts and Drawers;
Gents’ Hosiery, Handkerchiefs, Ac.
and retaii*.
NEW DRESS GOODS,
VIZ: 1
3 pieces DIAGONAL FOULARD SILKS;
1 piece STEEL “ “
4 pieces SILK REPS, Dark Shades;
2 “ BLACK EMPRESS;
I “ DIAGONAL SEAL BROWN WORSTED-
I “ BRONZE CASHMERE;
I “ All Wool TWILLS, seal brown;
I “ “ “ navy;
1 “ « • ** black*
2 “ 4 4 NAVY CASHMERE;
• JONES.
No, 70 Broad Street.
J.
OC14 eo l&wtf
WAREHOUS.ES
ALABAMA WAREHOUSE,
COLUMBUS, CA A.
BLANCHARD, WILLIAMS & CO.
Larges! aud Most Cevpiete Firt-Pnn! Waretonsc in ike Ml.
ADVANCES MADE ON CONSIGNMENTS.
I\[E sell for the Manufacturers the Celebrated DANIEL PRATT
Yt cin. s iuce the introduction of the Patent Revolving Head, this Gin
stands at the head of the list.
BEST LIVERPOOL SALT from first hands, in Carload Lots.
BACCINC and TIES at Lowest Market Rates. "
Choice Western and Northern HAY always on ha
$3
GOLD PLATED WATCHES. Cheap
est la the known world. Sample Watch Fret to
1 Agents. Address, A. Coultsb A Co - Chicago.
feT Terms liberal as any, and prompt attention to all business entrusted to ae.
sags