Newspaper Page Text
J. W. ANDERSON. Editor and Pioprietor.
Life’s Some Biy.
“fitful fsvsr will be e’er,”
Mud we shall toss in pain no mors;
In peace will hush the breakers’ roar
Some day.
fliese bitter tears will cease to flow,
these piercing thorns will cease to grow,
kud there will be an end of wee,
Some day.
bark clouds will all have drifted by,
Mbove will smile the calm blue sky,
[And joy will fill the tearless sky,
Some day.
Mnd we shall hear eaeh other ging,
the rose will bloom in endless spring,
the frosts of winter will not sting,
Some day.
the time will come when we shall be
From all these binding fetters free;
Bweet light will come to you and me,
Some day.
— G. IT. Crofts in Inter Ocean.
'he Undertaker's Story.
Brhaps I am more sensitive to the
Bible than most of my fellow men—
Bin fact, more easily wrought upon.
Bll events I have fancied that at times,
Bn I have been telling this experience
Bine, I could detect certain indica
Bns that some of my hearers were of
■ opinion; but I have not yet so far
Bd in charity us to wish any of these
Hers put to a similar test.
■pad Bile run over to Paris, had spent a
of weeks in that bright aity,
■ft was on my way home again,
■ok a night train from Dover to Lon
B and in the compartment which I
Bjpied H-a there was but one other passen
sharp, intelligent-looking man,
H a very grave face. We got into
■ersation after travelling more than
■the distance in that silence which is
■iably adopted by Englishmen when
■ meet. After discussing general
■Bets, a remark of my companion’s led
|Hb say that he soemod to have had a
■wide experience, and among nearly
■asses of society.
■Tes,” he answered slowly, and with
Btrked hesitation. “Yes, I am an un
Baker. I have had a good deal of ex
Bence, and I have had my share, I
■k, of remarkable adventures. I
Per take this ride from Dover to Lon
i without a very painful recollection
•ne such.”
■'« had still nearly a half hour’s ride
lire us, and his manner, as much as
Iwords, aroused my interest.
PDo you care to tell it?” I askad.
A quick, involuntary shudder gave
this voice a slight tremor, as he
Ivverod, “I wish I could keep from
■king of it, but I might as well tell it
lit here quaking in silence over the
pul memory of it.” He paused a
■rent, drew a long shuddering breath,
R then he commenced:
I*A little over a year ago what I am
but to relate happened to me. I had
nblished a Very good business, chiefly
long the upper class of trade people—
tmgh, of course, I did not decline any
11 upon me that promised a reasonable
Ifit. I received one day a telegraphic
Ipatch from Paris asking me to take
arge of a dead body that was to be
|>t from Paris to London for burial. I
is to meet it at Dover on the arrival of
I night beat from Calais, and make all
I arrangements for its further trans
rtation by rail, and I was referred to a
Hl-known banker as security for my
Menses.
1‘This looked like good business, so I
it no time in getting the necessary per¬
ils and went to Dover in the evening.
Bid some details to attend to there in
ler that everything might be in readi¬
es and no time lost after the boat ar
fed. Then I had nothing to do but
lit. I set up reading to keep myself
iks.
I “It was a beautiful still night in tha
pe fall, with an almost full moon, I re
fember; and the boat got in to time,
received the box containing the body,
Id saw it placed in one of the luggage
Ins of the train; and in due course ar
ved with it at Victoria station. One of
ly wagons was there waiting to take the
Ddv to my place, where I was instructed
> keep it until the next morning, when
le proper parties would call to make
rrangements about the burial.
So far of course, there was nothing
pecially remarkable about the affair. It
i a little unusual in such cases not to
nd some one connected with the de¬
based accompany the body: but I hardly
ave that matter a second thought. I
ad no doubt but that the right persons
ronld appear later in the day.
44 When I got to my shop, it still
acked two hours of daylight, and, as I
elt no slight responsibility, I didn’t
hink of going home, but made myself
is comfortable as possible in my office for
he rest of the night. You must bear in
nind that all the sleep I had secured was
i broken, uneasy slumber on the journey
l rom Dover to London, and when I went
® sleep in my chair, after stirring the
Ire into a blaze, I slept very soundly—
ery soundly, that is, for awhile, for it
as still dark when I woke up in a sud
len and startling way.
“Have you ever wondered,” the under¬
taker asked, turning his eyes full upon
mine for the first time since he had be¬
gun his story, “what mysterious influ¬
ence that is which makes yoi^feel another
presence in the same room as yourself,
though you hear no one and see no one?
It’» a queer feeling at any time, but I
The Covington Star.
Meow ef any —mmom when it •ft*
Mem mere queer and awful than wham it
oomes to a man locked up in the dead ef
night with nothing but black plumes
and grave-clothes and palls and coffins
about him.”
He turned his eyes to the floor again,
and a cold tremor crept through my own
flesh in the brief and ominous pause he
made before he went on in a lower
voice.
“That was the feoling I had when I
suddenly woke from sound sleep to full
consciousness with a chilling shudder of
horror. I was sitting before the fire¬
place, with my back to the door that led
from the office to the shop. I had pur¬
posely left the door ajar. The fire had
died down to a dull glow, and it seemed
to me that a breath from the Arctic zone
had penetrated the room. I cannot des¬
cribe the kind of cold it was. My very
bones seemed to be ice. And then I
felt that presence.”
The undertaker seemed terribly affected
•ven now by his recollections of that
night. It was impossible to resist the
infection, and my own flesh was creep¬
ing in a very uncomfortable way. He
made a strong effort to recover himself
and steady his voice, but, in spite
of all, it trembled with an ever
deepening terror as he went on,
curdling my very blood in sympatny.
“I had turned the gas out when I sat
down in my chair to sleep, so that the
only light in the room came from the
dying fire. I became aware of that pres¬
ence the very instant I awoke. Mind,
sir, this is not a dream. I was as fully
awake as I am at this moment. The
thing wts there! It was at tha back of
me. It was between me and the door.
I had got to turn my head to see it. But
I knew it was thero! Who it was, or
what it was, I didn’t know; but I was
sure that some living thing was standing
behind me motionless in the dim,
ghost y light, and was looking at me.
My God, sir! it was awful to sit still and
feel this thing, and try to make up my
mind to turn my head toward it! Iam
pretty well accustomed to corpses, but I
can tell you that I did not feel just then
that the corpse out in the other room
was any company for me.
i . Well, there I sat—feeling that horri¬
ble gaze fixed upon me in utter silence,
and the death-like cold creeping through
my veins—striving, struggling to nerve
myself to look around and to face the
thing, whatever it was.
“Were you ever locked up in a tomb
at night?” the undertaker suddenly
asked me. I could only shake my head
in response; I could not speak.
4 4 I have been," he said, “but it was
nothing—nothing to those few minutes,
while I sat palsied with terror, with that
thing behind me? At last, in a kind of
nervous spasm, I sprang to my feet and
turned toward the door. The sight froze
me 1 There is no other word for it—I
was rigid. I could no more stir than I
could arrest the motion of this train now
and instantly. My very heart stopped
its beating. I wonder I did not drop
dead myself, for there—not six feet from
me—with the livid pallor of death on its
face, and its glassy eyes glued to mine,
stood the corpse 1
. i Then it began to approach me. It
did not seem to walk—it glided; and
not till it reached me did it make a
single apparent movement. Then—just
stand up, will you? I can illustrate bet¬
ter what occurred, I did so, an 1 he
rose at the same time, and we stood
facing each other in the compartment. I
wus dimly conscious at the moment that
we were crossing Battersea bridge. The
undertaker, as he went on, repeated upon
me the actions he described.
4 4 Then this dead thing,” he said to
me, “slowly lifted its arms and laid its
icy fingers on my cheeks and moved
them gently downwards to my shoulders,
pressing hard against me all the time on
either side, as I do now on you, and
wherever the hands lay they seemed to
draw the very life out of the flesh be¬
neath them. Slowly—oh, how slowly—
they glided on downward from my
shoulders to my breast, beneath my coat,
like this. Try to conceive it—try, if you
can. Wherever they touched they drew
something away from me—some virtue
seemed to go out of me. And then the
frightful thought came to me that I was
dying by piecemeal 1—that I was parting
with something dear to me as life—bit
by bit I could feel it ebbing—ebbing,
and at last the horror grew to a convic
tion. This ghoul was drawing my life’s
blood into his own veins! was sucking
my substance! What I lost he gained?
He enriched himself by making me poor,
and it would end-”
“Victoria I” shouted a guard, opening
the carriage door.
4 4 Bless my soul 1” exclaimed the under¬
taker, “are we in? I must hurry to catch
my train out. He seized his satchel, and
was on the step before I could get my
breath to say: “But the story I I want to
hear the end of it.”
He was on the platform now. “Oh!
there isn’t much more,” he called back.
i I The ghoul succeeded—that’s all 1”—
and he was gone before I could say an
other word.
As I followed a porter to a cab, and
all the way home, I tried to conceive
what the undertaker could mean How
could the dead man have succeeded?
Here the undertaker was, alive and weU,
COVINGTON. GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY. SEPTEMBER 29. 1886.
sad teltimg me the story. It was veiy
anmoyiag and dfetapBinting to be bo
baulked alter being so wrought upon.
The undertaker had left me no address,
so that I was, apparently, doomed never
to know the solution.
Only “apparently” however. When I
got out of the cab at my own door, I
could find no loose change to pay the
the driver, yet I had some when I took
that train at Dover; my well furnished
pocket-book, though that, too, I had at
Dover, was gone as well; and my watch
and chain had followed suit.
It is painful to lose confidence in hu- I ;
man nature in this way. —London Truth
The Garfield Family.
The Garfield home on Prospect street,
where Mrs. Garfield has lived since
President Garfield’s death, is empty and
for sale. Mrs. Garfield and her family
have gone to live at the Mentor farm,
where, she says, she can find more peace
and comfort than anywhere else. Before
she went there the house on the farm
was remodelled and added to. Still, it
was much too small for the equipments
of the city house, and a few days ags a 1
privatc sale was held, at which a great
many things were disposed of at fabu
lous prices. During the unsettled period
Grandma Garfield went to her old
home at Solon, a village twelve miles
from town, and near Hiram College,
where her boy was taught and taught
others. The old lady is pestered almost
to sickness by autograph hunters, and
will attend to them no more. She is i
strong and very clear of mind, as of old.
Since the removal of Mrs. Garfield t*
Mentor grandma has rejoined her.
One reason why the house on the farm
was enlarged was the need of a room
where President Garfield’s effects and
papers could be placed, These have all I
been arranged with the utmost care, and
placed in systematic order. The articles
»n the memorial room of the Prospect
street house have also been removed to
a specially built room in the Mentor
home, and a rare collection of tributes
from nearly every State in the Union,
and from nearly every civilized nation in
the world. Mrs. Garfield’s father,
Mr. Zeff Rudolph, is with her. He and
grandma are nearly of the same age—
about 83. Harry Garfield is at home.
He has returned from St. Paul’s school,
near Concord, N. H., where he has been
teaching. James R. is studying law
with Judges Boynton and Hale of this
city, and is going to make a good, and
perhaps a great lawyer. He is a close
student, and has his father’s retentive
and legal mind.
Molly is with her moiher at Mentor,
but often comes to town. She is Presi
dent of the McAll Mission Society, an
organization for missionary work in
Paris. Mrs. Garfield looks well, but
lives very quietly, and retains her gar
ments of black. She gave $50,000 for
the Prospect street house, and has only,
as yet, been offered $45,000. — Cleveland
( Ohio ) Leader.
Pelrifyiug Human Bodies.
A New York undertaker and embalmer
said to a Mail and Express reporter that
he believed the time was not far distant
when the lost art of mummifying bodies
would be discovered.
“What struck me with that idea was
the great state of preservation the body
of Preller, killed by Maxwell in St.
Louis, was found when exhumed to un- >
dergo an examination by the physicians.
The body h-d been buried some time,
and the lawyers for the defense imagined
that it would be so decayed no post
mortem examination could be made in a
scientific way to discover the traces of
disease such as Maxwell said he had. i
The embalmer had done his work well,
and the body was in a fine state of pres¬
ervation. I think some fluid will be die
covered that will petrify flesh, and thus
the ancient Egyptians will be outdone,
That is my great hobby—to petrify the
human body after death. It will hand
down to ages yet unknown the exact
features and proportions of the present
race. Our skilled chemists who dream
their lives away over the retort, it looks
to me, should turn their attention in this
direction. The bones of mastodons have
been preserved for thousands of years, .
and why not man’s? Anything the brain ;
can conceive of I think can, in a meas
be accomplished in tiin ”
ure,
Carried off by an Eagle.
The Greenvile (111.) Sun contains the
particulars of an att-.ck by a bald
eagle upon the 7-year-old son of Wash¬
WYight, Mulberry Grove. As 1
burn near
the boy , . ,. pas . ure
was on is way o le
the bird swooped down on him, and
fastening its talons ,n his clothes raised
him in the air, soanng several feet with
him, when his clothing parted and the
child droppe to t e groun e
youth’s screams brought to him his
father, who was fortunately near-by, and
his presence frig tene t le eag e away. ^
Very Much of a Hint. I
Dilly-dallying Lover.-Look at those
‘
two birds, Maria. What a chattering ■
thev keep up around the door of that j
rustic bird house 1 It is charmingty rural,
isn’t it?” |
Disheartened Maria (crisply)—Yes.
“What do you think they can be say¬
ing to each other?” !
. . They are saying: ‘Let ns get married
and keep house,’ |
RESTAURANTS
_
of New York’s Odd
mg Houses Described.
with a National Eeputation Whose
Surroundings are Unsavory.
A New York letter to the Troy Time*
Moretti’s is a restaurant that has
achieved a national reputation, although
as unpretentious as Oliver Hitchcock’s
beanery. It is on Fourteenth street, near
Third avenue. You enter a narrow and
dirty hallway, ascend a dusty flight of
stairs and are ushered into a diningroom
filled with tables covered with linen any
tHn S but 8Ilow y in color. The chairs
are rickety, there is little ventilation and
the rooms are usually filled with the
fumes of gariic, coffee and tobacco. The
walls are lined with pictures of illustri
ous Italians, from Cavour down to Cam
P anini and Cristadoro. The portraits are
ru sty and musty, the restaurant is-atuffy,
the plates and cups are nicked and
cracked, the waiters are sldVenly and out
ward appearances are far from appetizing,
some of the most noted men and wo
mett New York dine there. Moretti
himself does the cooking, and everybody
P ra i 8es an( l apparently enjoys it. The
proprietor frequenly leaves his stew pans
- - -
md chafing dishes and wanders out among
his g ueets in his Bhirt Bleeves - He usuall y
hfts a ci E ar 111 his mouth - He alwa y s
we!lrs a 6oiled a P ron and invariably looks
as though he had just come out of a
stable. Yet millionaires and literati press
his hand with delight, and the ladies of
the haut ton greet him with their sweet¬
est smiles. He has been the rage for
years. The artist Page first discovered
111111 nearI y thirt y y ears a S°- William
Henr y Fr y> Charlcs A - DaQa - Willlam
Stuart, George Arnold, Fitz Greene Hal
leck, William Cullen Bryant, Henry Ward
Beecher, William Henry Hurlbet, Joseph
Howard, Jr., and men of that ilk quickly
recognized the importance of the discovery
and the cook began to get on his feet.
Politicians, merchants, brokers and men
about-town took the cue and followed
suit, and Moretti became famous. His
place has been thronged for years. It is
almost impossible to secure a seat at a
table at the 6 o’clock dinner hour. All
the dishes are Italian in concoction and
decoction. To the uneducated American
palate they are simply nauseating; yet
bon vivants revel in them. You get soup,
fish, meats, game, maccaroni, salads and
desserts, all flavored with oil and garlic,
and to a farmer’s boy all tasting alike.
Half the native Americans who drop in
there masticate the food with an imagin¬
ative relish, and are sick for days after¬
ward. Yet all vie with the bon vivants
“ praising Moretti’s provender. Each
man wants to be thought an expert in
testing cookery, and therefore eats and
commends everyting set before him. Men
eat cheese and game birds at Moretti’s
tables who would pitch them out of the
window if they were served at home.
Moretti is as shrewd in a business way as
he is in the gastronomic line, He makes
no effort to branch out in gorgeous mag
nificence like Martinelli and Morelli. He
stickg to his original plant and lets his
cooking speak for itself. He enjoys his
squalid surroundings, and makes no effort
to gjj d them, He takes no vacations.
He spends no money in pleasure. His
[jfg ; s bounded by his cookshop; beyond
j^ g there is no happiness for him.
Morning, noon and night, both summer
and w j n ter, you will find him stewing
and gweat i n g in his Italian kitchen and
ou t his dollar meals. How much
he is worth is a secret known only to
himself. The figures must run up among
t he hundred thousands,
Lately, however, competition has reared
itg head- a beetle-browed little Span
j 8rd 0 f the name of Pedro, some years
started a small restaurant in Duane
street. It is in a little squatty wooden
building, within a stone’s throw of O’Don
ovan Rossa’s den on one side, and of the
jq ve points on the other. Pedro de¬
TO t e g his attention to Spanish dishes,
jj; s table linen is rarely clean, and his
crockery looks as though it had just
come out of a tenement house. Untutored
stomachs would declare the cooking to be
execra bie. The smell of garlic is about
gu ff 0C ating, the bread is the color of ma¬
hogany, acd the wine as sour as cider
vinegar; yet William Stuart, Charles
Gaylor and other veteran gourmands
assert that the cooking is perfection it¬
self, and go into ecstacies over his din
nere Stock brokers give select dinner
'
parties in his shanty, and armies of flies
welcQme t i lem Tom-cats scattered among
^ ^ caQS litterin? the yards near by
funlish c1ms rausie , ,nd Pedro himself,
in badly goi i e d garments, dishes
and other choice gpaaish
e s, gtreaming with onions and garlic,
nt , (rracc the swarth
gastronomic sactum, and Pe
^ ^ the highway of fame, gathering
in a fortue. He already sells more cham.
P«gne than Moretti, but whether this is
5wiD g t0 the d 'S est,blc ° r md, ^ 8tlble
oature of his dinners is a question. One
thing is certain. It takes a well trained
stomach to appreciate his cooking. A
thorough Western cow boy would probably
shoot him on sight if confronted by one
of his dishes.
The acutio'near Wkes a morbid view of
things.
Making Baseballs. J
The interesting fact was learned by *
Yosk Midi and Repress reporter
the hides of about 1000 horses and
skins of at least ten times as many
are cut up into coverings for base¬
in this city every season. By one
alone three tons of yarn
used a year for the inside) of base¬
The hide and skin used is per¬
white, being alum tanned, and
from Philadelphia. Out of one
hide the coverings for twelve
balls are cut, and out of one sheep¬
three dozen. Two strips of the
leather are required for each ball, cut
wide and rounding at each end so that
they fit into each other when put around
the yarn ball. Each piece, for a League
ball, is seven inches long, by two inches
wide at the rounded ends. The pieces
are cut with a die. Old fashioned blue
Shaker yarn is used for the inside of a
League ball, which is wound tightly
around a small rubber ball, weighing
exactly one ounce. The improved
League ball has now double coverings of
hersehide, which is regarded as a great
improvement. It is also stitched with
gut. The balls are made entirely by
hand and it requires no little skill to
shape them perfectly round. This is
done by plseing them in an iron cup
about the size of the ball and striking it
with a mallet at different stages of the
winding. Men do this work; they easi¬
ly make ten dozen League balls in a day
and from forty to fifty dozen ordinary
baseballs in the same length of time.
Their wages are $2.50 a day. Women sew
the coverings together on the ball; this
requires considerable skill and strong
finger muscle; they can sew from two
and a half to three dozen League balls a
day, and from 14 to 16 dozen of the
cheaper grades; they are paid by the
piece, ninety cents a dozen for the
League work and ten cents a dozen foi
the others. They cam about $12 a week.
The balls are sewed wth what is known
as Barker’s flax, which comes in red,blue,
orange and pink colors. The finest balls
are sewed with pink. Horsehide eover- j
ed balls are made iu fourteen different !
varities.
Doctoring an African Ring.
Dr. R. W. Felkin says in the Scottish
Geographical Magazine: It is no joke, to
be a doctor to the King of Uganda, foi
whenever I took him a new supply of
medicine I had always to take a dose my¬
self, and to administer one to seven of
the person* who might happen to be pre¬
sent. Should one of these seven unfortu
nates die within a week it would be con¬
sidered that I had attempted to poison
the King. If the King had to take a pill,
I had always to hold two in my hand;
he chose one and I had to swallow the
other unless I had a friend with me who
kindly undertook the office. I soon
noticed, however, that Mtesa always
chose the smallest, and so I arranged ac¬
cordingly. One day, Mtesa played me a
nice trick. I had been to the palace to
take him a lotion, and had warned him
particularly not to drink it. After I had
left he sent a page after me with a gourd
of mwengi, asking me to to taste it, and
say if he might have some. I did so,
and said “Yes.” It being a very hot
afternoon, my friend drank the re
mainder; but it soon became evident
that the King had doctored the wine, for
my friend became violently sick, It
turned out afterward that Mtesa wished
to see what effect the lotion would have
upon me.
Living on Yachts.
Theremustbe a large semi-fashionable
floating population around New York
during the summer season. All over the
harbor and up the sound, as far as
Greenwich, yon will find yachts, varying
from $500 sloops to $50,000 schooners,
anchored in quiet bights and inlets, and
serving as lodgings for their owners and
their owners’families. On the larger
vessels men and women live, sailing from
place to place as the humor catches
them. On the smaller ones bachelor
parties hold merry revel. These latter
are nearly always young men in business
in the city, who attend to their occupa
tions by day, and go cruising from Satur
day till Monday. Many of these merely
lease a yacht for the season. They Keep
the pantry full of cold meats and easily
prepared canned stuff, and take their
able bodied meals ashore. One seaman
serves to help them sail their craft and
to take care of it when they are in the
city. It does not cost them much, if
anything, more than to pay room rent
and board ashore, and they have a great
more fun while the temperature is high.
-—--
A Prayer for a Professor.
Young ministers of the Scotch kirk
are obliged to preach a certain number
of trial sermons, and very queer
discourses these often turn out. Dr.
Boyd, of Bt. Andrew’s, relates a story
of how a probationer, when he “offered”
the preliminary prayer took the oppor
tunity of supplicating the Almighty on
behalf of the professor who had instruct
ed him, and who was among the con
gregation when his zealous pupil
“prayed at” him.
Lord [said he], have merey on our
professor, for he is weak and ignorant
Strengthen his feeble hands, confirm his
tottering id knees, and grant that he may
go out in before us like the he-gont
t«fore Thy flock. -^London Truth,
XII. NO, 45.
SCIENTIFIC SCRAPS, ■
Ths fall ef a meteor on ice was lately
witnessed on the eoast of Norway, a I
hole a foot and a half in diameter being
made through eight inches of ice.
Glass plates have been substituted for
copper in the sheathing of an Italian ship,
the advantage claimed be exemption from
oxidation and incrustation. The glass
was cut in plates to fit the hull.
In Sweden wood-oil is now made on an
extensive scale from stumps, roots and
the refuse of timber-cuttings. In special
lamps it gives very satisfactory light, and
is the cheapest of all illuminating oils.
Experiments in Austrian garrisons
prove that where the floors of barracks
are painted with tar the collection of dust
in cracks is prevented, and there is a
consequent diminution in irritative dis¬
eases of the eye. There is also a great
diminution of parasites.
A gentleman who has had considerable
experience in moving fish of quite large
size from one pond to another, states that
they are much more likely to die for lack
of sufficient air than from want of water.
He has learned from experience that it is
best to move them in vessels that contain
only sufficient water to cover them.
The wild sugar-cane grows in great
quantities on “the leeward coast” of
Vera Cruz, Mexico, and until recently no
use has been made of it. Lately, how¬
ever, a company has been cutting the
cane, and the plains of Nopalapan alone
they have cut some 250 loads, which they
have shipped flora Tlalcotalpam for the
markets of the interior.
A new method of manufacturing car
wheels has been tested at Wilkesbarre,
Pa., with satisfactory results. By the
old method three men could make only
eighteen wheels per day of twelve hours.
By the new process the same number ef
men can turn out a perfect wheel every
minute, or 720 per day. One of the
principal features of the new method is
1110 use of a steel core instead of one
8and ln castin 8 the wheel - The core
removed by knocking out a centre key,
leaving the hole perfectly true and ready
to be put on the axle at once without
dressing or boring.
4 Relic of Antietam.
General Hector Tyndale Post No. 190,
of this city, hag recently been presented
j with a small brass cannon, which is ap¬
parently a toy, but it has a historic in¬
terest. It was used at the battle of An
tietam, September 17, 1862, with deadly
effect. It was drawn from Sharpsburg
while the battle was in progress by a boy
sixteen years of age, who lived in the
vicinity and who, like old John Burns at
Gettysburg, a year later, went into the
conflict upon his own personal responsi¬
bility. He took a position on an eleva¬
tion and with his little cannon faced the
enemy and poured load after load of
deadly missiles from the muzzle of his
miniature cannon into the ranks
of the Confederates. The hero fought
lor bours ’ n ranks of the Union army,
Among the hundred thousand men with
whom he fought there was not one with
whom he had any personal acquaintance,
While thus engaged he was shot, it is
believed, by a Confederate sharpshooter,
When found he was lying on his face,
with his body across the little gun.
After his death the cannon was kept
until recently, when it was sold for old
brass and brought to this city with
other old metals. A comrade of tho
Tyndale Post, who is an extensive metal
broker, le rned the history of the little
piece of artillery, then dirty and cor
ro d e d, and presented it to the society,
It has been cleaned and brightened up
and looks liko new. It is about three
feet in length, and has a bore of less
than tw0 inches.— Philadelphia Time*.
— -
Ladies Carried Across Wet Streets.
A letter from Mexico to the Boston
j Transcript says: When the streets be
come flooded by the heavy summer
showers, multitudes of “cargadores >i
standing upon either pavement, with
j their trousers rolled up, ply a lively busi
; ness carrying pedestrians across upon
their backs, They make nothing of
hoisting a lady, as though she were a
sack of potatoes, with her reticule, fan,
parasol and other paraphernalia, and
trotting away with her—while her little
feet dangle and generally beat a tattoo
upon his back, and her fingers clutch
him nervously amid a series of shrieks—
and dump her, dry shod, upon the other
side, all for six cents 1 When a family
party comes along mother, maids and
children—it is a funny sight to see them
transported, one by one, over a three
foot-wide, six-inch-deep torrent, with
more fuss than Barnum’s menagerie,
white elephant and all, would make ia
grossing the Mississippi,
In a Big Horry.
! “If I buy some dress goods,” asked a
lady in a dry goods store, “can you de
liver them at once?"
“Yes’m,” said the clerk.
“There will be no delayP’
“No’ro,” said the clerk.
“Because I am in great haste.”
“Yes’m,” said the clerk.
“Very well, you may show me your
summer silks.”
In four hours and forty minutes the
lady had selected what she wanted, and
; the tired clerk ordered the goods deliv-
1 d —N. Y. Sum.
fre at once.
At Nightftll.
fades the day; beyond the western _
heights
The sunset fires have paled to ashen gray,
And through low-leaning mists a young moo
lights
With fitful gleams the solitary way.
p own topping to the woodland dim and
lone
As some bright starbeam that the winds hava
blown
From the far East, a single glowworm
shines,—
A golden light amid the shadowy pfaiee.
Through a soft wilderness of purple bloom,
Where twilight spills her silver moisture
cool
O’er tangled paths, and by the fringed
pool
A lonely traveler in the valley’s bloom
Quickens his footsteps, for the wind’s half
sigh
Dimly recalls some olden memory,—
And through the dusk the glowworm’s twink¬
ling light
Brings ten visions of a heartstone bright,
And love and rest beyond the forest aisles.
“Welcome awaits me when my journey
ends,"
He whispers to the shadowy night—and so
beguiles
The long, sad hours with dreams of dome and
friends.
—Adelaide D. Rollston, in the Current.
HUMOROUS.
A sound sleeper—One who snores.
To find the newest books out go to a
circulating library. The newest books
are always out there.
If these professional glass eaters are
not more caceful they will soon have
panes in their stomachs.
“Those who use our goods are very
much attached to them,” is what a porous
plaster company advertises.
A 25-cent hat is rather a common kind
of head covering, but it will go a long
way if overtaken by a good stiff breeze.
Is there anything more excruciating
than the music of a Japanese tom-tom
orchestra?” asks a writer. Did you ever
hear the music of an American tom-tom
cat?
“Papa," said a little five-year old,
pointing to a turkey gobler strutting
around in a neighbor’s yard, “ain’t that
red-nosed chicken got an awful big
bustle F’
“Why does marriage make men
thoughtful?” asked a young lady of an
old bachelor. “Well, I suppose it is be¬
cause they are continually wondering
what’s going to happen next. ”
Johnny was telling his mamma how he
was going to dress and show off when he
was a man. His mamma asked, “Johnny,
what do you expect to do for a living
when you get to be a man?” “Well, rn
get married and lodge with my wife’s
pa.” _
Does Gold Grow.!
Years ago I wrote and published in 8
London magazine an article in which I
undertook to prove that gold grows—
grows the same as grain or potatoes, or
anything else. I reckon I did my work
crudely, not knowing anything about
chemistry or even the ordinary terms of
expression about such matters, and so my
earnest and entirely correct sketch was
torn all to pieces and laughed to scorn.
Well, I have at last found positive
proof of my general statement right here
in these mountains by the Pacific sea.
Briefly and simply, I have found a piece
of peterified wood with a little vein or
thread of gold in it. How did that gold
get into this piece of wood? Was it
placed there by the finger of God on the
morning of creation, as men have claimed
was the case with the gold found in the
veins of the mountains? Nonsense 1
Gold grows 1 Certain conditions of
the air, or certain combinations of earth
and air and water, and whatever chemi¬
cals may be required, and then a rock, a
piece of quartz, or petrified tree, for the
gold to grow in, and there is your gold
crop! Of course, gold grows slowly.
Centuries upon centuries, it may be, are
required to make the least sign of
growth. But it grows just as I asserted
years ago; and here at last I hold in my
hand such testimony as no man in this
world will be rash enough to question: a
portion of a petrified tree with a thread
of gold in it. — Joaquin Miller.
Heavy Rains.
“Speaking of heavy rains, remarked
one farmer to another on Bank street
yesterday, “reminds me of one we had
last spring. I put a barrel out in the
yard, bung up, and it was filled with
rain water through the bung in just ten
minutes by the watch! ’ “That’s noth
ln ”’ said birmcr “• 1 P ut a a ^‘
rel in my yard with both heads out. It
rained so hard and the water went
through the bunghole so fast that it
could not run out, and consequently
overflowed at the bung, The farmers
saluted each other and then drove on.—
Mew London Telegraph.
Kind of lleadwork He Did.
“How is this, Bromley? You told mo
the other day that young Cummings is a
j fellow of great intellect, Why, he’s a
j regular ignoramus.’
“Darringer, I didn’t say he was intel
t
ligmt. I remarked that he did a good
deal of head work.”
“Well, that’s about the same isn't it?”
“Oh, no! He doesn’t w rk with his
otto head. He works with oilier
j people's. He’s a barber.--Coil.