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E. f. & ¥: S. C i iailors M Proprietors.
EL LI JAY COURIER.
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY
—BY—
L W. ft W. S. COLEMAN.
Bay*Office in the Court House.
SENERAL DIRECTORY ~
Superior Court meets 3rd Monday
iu May and 2nd Monday in November.
COUNTY COUKT.
Hon. Thomas F. Greer, Judge.
Moultrie M. Sessions,Gouuty Solicitor.
Meets 3rd Monday in each month.
Court of Ordinary meets Ist Monday
in each month.
TOWN COUNCIL.
M. J. Mean, Intendant,
M. McKinney, T. H. Tabor, ) _
J Hunnicutt, J. R. Johnson, j oom '
iP. H. Foster, Town Marshal,
COUNTY OFFICERS.
J. C. Allen, Ordinary
T. W. Craigo, Clerk Superior Court.
H. M. Bramlett, Sheriff.
J. H. Sharp, Tax Receiver.
G. 'V. Gater, Tax Collector.
•Jas. M. West, Surveyor.
O. W. Riel, Coroner.
W. F. Hill, School Commissioner.
The < ouuty Board of Education meets
at Ellijay the Ist Tuesday in Jauunry
April, July and Gctober.
JUSTICES' COURTS.
350th Dist. G. M., Ellijay, Ist Thurs
day, A. J. Dooley, J.P., G. H. Randell,
N. P.
864th Dist. G. M., Tickaneteby, l<t
Saunday, J. C. Anderson, J. P. j. W
Parker, N. P.
907th Dist. G. M., Boardtown. 4th
Saturday, J. S. Smith, J. P., W. E.
Chancey. N. P.
932nd Dist. G. M., Cartecay, 4th Sat
urday, S. D. Allen, T. M. Simmons, N.
958th G. M., Mountaintown, 4th Sat
urday, J. M. Painter, J. P., J. \V. With
eron, N. P.
1009th Dist. G. M., Tails Creek, 3rd
Saturday, Cicero M. Tatum, J. P., Thos.
Ratcliff, N P.
1035th Dist. G. M. Teacher, Ist Satur
day, Jos. Watkins, J. P., Jos. P. Ellis,
N. P.
1091st Dist. G. M., Ball Ground, 2nd
Saturday, A. M. Johnson, J. P., .Tno.,P.
F.vans, N. F. ~
1135th Dist. G. M., Town Creek, 2ud
Saturday, E. Russell, J. P., Jno. T.
Keeter, N. P.
1136th D.at. G. M, C . T. . t
Saturday, Jno. H Wnitn • , J. P., J M
Ward N.P,
1274ih Dist. G. M., Ridgeawuy; 2nd
Baturday. Jno. M. Quarles, J. P., W. E.
O. Moore, N. P.
1302nd Dist. G. M., Coosawattee, 3rd
Saturday, M. V. 81-nkenship, J. P., A.
J. Hensley, N. P.
13415 t Dist. G. M., Diamon , 2nd Sat
urday, W. D. Sparks, J. P., Jesse Hold
en, N. P.
1855th Dist. G. M., Alto, 2nd Satur
day, Maxwell Chastain, J. P., B. H. An<
derson, N. P.
RELIGIOUS SDRVIOES.
Methsdist Epis opal Church, South’.—
Every 4th Sunday and Saturday before,by
Rev. C. A. Jamison.
Baptist Church.—Every 2nd Saturday
and Sunday, by Rev. N. T. Osborn.
Methodist Episcopal Church.—Every
Ist Saturday and Sunday, by Rev. T. D.
Ellington. Every 3rd or sth Sunday, by
Rev. R. H. Robb.
FRATERNAL RECORD
Oak Bowery Lodge, No. 81, F. A. M.,
eets Ist Friday in each month.
P. H. Milton, W. M.
T. B. Greer, S. W.
W. A. Cox, J. W,
R. Z. Roberts, Treasurer.
S. P. Ganou Tylor,
T. W. Craigo Secretary.
J. W. HENLEY,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
JASPER, GEORGIA.
Will prrctice in the Superior Court of the Blue
Bidge Circuit. Prompt attention to all busi
ness intrusted to his care.
Lands For Sale, Mines for Sale,
TIMBERFOR SALK,
Water Power for Sale,
LEASES NEGOTIATED BY THE
Non! Georgia M and Mini
agunctt :
We are at all times prepared to negoti
ate both purchases ■ml sales of all kinds
of real estate, including Mines, Farms,
and Town property. Water Powers, &e.
Titles to land examined and transcripts
furnished on application at reasonable
cost. Send for circular, or address
North Georgia Land and Mining Agency,
ELLUAY, GA.
E. W. COLEMAN, Manager.
THOS. F. GREEK, Attorney.
Moultbie M. Sessions, - Elluat, Georgia.
M. M. SESSIONS.
attorney at law.
Will practice in Bine Ridge Circuit, County
court and Justice courts of Gilmer county.
“Promptness" is my motto.
THE ELLIJAY COURIER.
The Sight is Still.
'll e night is still, the moon looks kind
The dew hangsjewt ls in the heath,
An ivy cliiubs across thy blind
And throws a light and misty wreath
The dew hangs jewels in the heath,
Buds bloom lor which the bee has pined;
I haste along, I quicker orenthe,
The night is still, the moon looks kind.
Bods bloom for Which the bee hns pined,
Tho primrose slips its jealous sheath,
As tip the flower-watched path I wind
And come thy window-ledge beneath.
the p imrose slips its jealous sheath —
Then open wide that churlish blind,
And kiss me through the ivy wreath !
The night is still, the moon looks kind.
Edith M, T>owirts in ihi 'Century.
THE WHITE PHANTOM.
Major M rritt Ilill, a “bold dragoon”
in the service of his Majesty George
111, found himself, one dark and blus
tering night in autumn, riding toward
London on the old York road. He
had supped with a friend who lived at
a village some distance off the road}
and he was unfamiliar with the coun
try.
’though not raining, the air was
damp, and the heavy, surcharged
clouds threatened every moment to
pour down their contents. A good
horseman cares as much for the com
fort of his steed as for his own ease.
To add to the discomfort of the even
ing, there was some chance of meet
ing highwaymen; but Major Hill felt
no uneasiness on that score, as, just
before leaving his friend’s house, he
had examined his holster pistols, and
freshly primed them. A brush with
a highwayman would enhance tho
romance of a night journey.
The Major’s horse began to give un
mistakable evidence of distress, stumb
ling once or twice, and recovering
himself with difficulty. At last a dim
light suddenly appeared at a turn of
the road. The horse pricked up his
ears, trotted forward with spirit, soon
liaiFetl besTde a, one-story cottage. The ’
.Major rode itp to the door and rapped
loudly With the butt of his whip.
The summons brought a sleepy cotter
to the door.
“My good friend,” said the Major,
“can you tell me how far it is to the
next inn?”
“Eh? It be about zevon mile, zur,”
was the answer, in the broad York
shire dialect of the district.
“Seven miles!” exclaimed the Major,
in a tone of deep disappointment; “and
my horse is already blown! My good
fellow, can’t you put him somewhere,
and give me a bed ? I will pay you
liberally for your trouble.”
“Eh! goodness sakes!” said the rus
tic. “I be nought but a ditcher.
There be noa plaze to put the nag in,
and there be only one room and one
bed in the cot.”
“What shall I do?” cried the Major,
at his wit’s end.
“I’ll tell ’ee, zur,” said the rustic.
“There be a voine large house on the
road, about a moile vurther on. It’s
noa*Sn inn, but the Colonel zees com
pany vor the vun o’ the thing—’cause
he loikes to zee company about ’un.
You must a heard ov him—Colonel
Lawrence—as used to be a soger once.”
“Say no more,” cried the Major. “I
have heard of this hospitable gentle
man, and his having been in the army
gives me a sure claim to his attention.
Here’s a crown for your information,
my good friend.”
The Major rode off, feeling an exhil
aration of spirits which soon commu
nicated itself to the horse. A sharp
trot of a few minutes brought him to
a large mansion, which stood by the
roadside. Without dismounting he
plied the large brass knocker till a
servant in livery made his appearance.
“Is your master up?” asked the
Major.
“I am the occupant of this house,”
said a venerable gentleman, making
his appearance at the hall door.
“I am a benighted traveler, sir,”
said the Major, touching his hat, “and
come to claim your well-known hospi
tality. Can you give me a bed for
the night?”
“I cannot promise you a bed, sir,”
said the host, “for I have but one
spare bed in the house, and that hap
pens to be in a room that does not
enjoy a very pleasing reputation. In
short, sir, one room of my house Is
haunted, and that is the only one, un
fortunately, that I can place at your
disposal to-night”
“My dear sir," said the Major,
springing from his horse and tossing
“.A Map of Busy Life—lts Fluctuations and its Vast Concents.*’
ELLIJAY, GA„ THURSDAY, OCTOBER 15, 1885.
the bridle to the servant “you en
chant me beyond expression! A
haunted bhamber! The very thing—
and 1, who have never seen a ghost!
What luck!”
The Colonel shook his bead gravely.
“1 never knew a man,” he said, “to
pass a night in that chamber without
regretting it.”
Major Hill laughed as he took his
pistols from the holster pipes. “With
these friends of mine,” he said, “I
fear neither ghost nor demon.”
Colonel Lawrence showed hj| guest
into a comfortable parlor; Where a
sea-coal firfe Was burning bhefetfully ig
a grate, and refreshments most wel-,
come to a weary traveler stood upon a
table.
The Major’s attention was drawn
toward a charming girl of twenty, the
daughter of the Colonel, who graced
the table with her presence. Never,
he thought, had he seen so beautiful,
so modest and so lady-like a creature;
and she, in turn, seemed very favor
ably impressed with the manly beauty
and frank manners of their military
guest.
At length she retired. The Colonel,
who had found a listener, was inclin
ed to prolong the session into the
small hours of the morning, but find
ing that his guest was much fatigued,
he felt compelled to ask him if he
would not like to retire.
Major Hill promptly replied in the
affirmative, and the old gentleman;
taking up a silver candlestick, cere
moniously marshaled his guest to a
large, old-fashioned room.
A comfortable bed invited to re
pose; a cheerful fire was blazing on
tho hearth, and everything was cozy
and quiet. The Major looked around
him with a sigh of satisfaction.
“I am deeply indebted to you, Col
onel,” said he, “for affording me such
comfortable quartors. . I shall sleep
like a top,”
“I am afraid’not,” answered the
Colonel, with a grave shake of the
head. “1 never knew a"guest of mine
to pass a quiet night in this chamber.”
“I shall prove an exception,” said
the Major, smiling. “But I must make
one remark,” he added, seriously. “It
is 111 sporting with the feelings of a
soldier; and should any of your ser
vants attempt to play tricks upon me,
they shall have occasion to repent it.”
And he laid his heavy pistols on
the light-stand by his bedside.
“My servants, Major Hill,” said the
old gentleman, with an air of offended
dignity, “are too well drilled to dare
attempt any tricks upon my guests.
Good night, Major.”
“Good night, Colonel.”
The door closed. Major Hill locked
it.
Beside the door opening into the
entry, there was another leading to
some other room. There was no lock
upon the second door, but a heavy
table placed across completely barri
caded it.
He threw himself into an arm-chair
before the fire, and amused himself
with building castles in the air, and
musing on the attractions of the fair
Laura, the host’s daughter. He was
far enough from thinking of spectral
visitants, when a very slight noise
struck on his ear. Glancing in the
direction of the inner door he thought
he saw the heavy table glide back
ward from its place. Quick as thought
he caught up a pistol and challenged
the intruder. There was no reply—
but the door continued to open and
the table to slide back. At last there
glided into the room a tall, graceful
iigure robed in white.
At the first glance the blood curdled
in the Major’s veins; at the second he
recognized the daughter of the host
Her eyes were wide open, and she ad
vanced with an assured step; but it
was very evident that she was asleep.
Here was the mystery of the White
Phantom solved at once. The young
girl walked to the fire-place and seat
ed herself in the arm-chair from which
the soldier had just risen.
She raised her left hand, and gazing
on a beautiful ring that adorned one
of her white taper fingers, pressed it
repeatedly to her lips. She then sank
into an attitude of repose, her arms
drooping listlessly by her side.
The Major approached her and stole
the ring from he; finger. His action
disturbed, but did not awaken her.
She seemed to miss the ring, however,
and after groping hopelessly for it,
ruse and glided through the doorway
hr silently as she had entered. She
had no aooaer retired than the Major
replaced the table, ami drawing t
heavy clothes press against it, effectu
ally guarded himself against a second
intrusion,
This done; he threw himself upon
the bed, and slept soundly till a lata
hour of the morning. After perform
ing the duties of his toilet, he was
summoned to breakfast, where he met
the Colonel and his daughter.
“Well, Major, and how did you pass
tho night?” asked the Colonel, anx
iously.
“Famously;” replied Hill. “I slept
like a top, as i told you 1 should.”
“Then, thank heaven, the spell is
broken at last,” said the Colonel; “and
the White Phantom has vanished.”
“By no means,” said the Major,
smiling; “the White Phantom paid me
a visit last night, and left me a token
of the honor.”
“A token!” exclaimed the father
and daughter in a breath.
“Yes, my friends, and here it is.”
And the Major handed the ring to the
old gentleman;
“What’s the meaning of this,
Laura?” exclaimed the Colonel. "This
ring I gave you last week."
Laura uttered a faint cry, and turn
ed deadly pale.
“The mystery is easily explained,”
said the major. “The young lady is a
sleep-walker. She came into my room
before I had retired, utterly uncon
scious of her actions. I took the ring
from her hand; that I might be able to
convince you and her of the teality of
what I had witnessed.”
The major’s business was not press
ing, and he readily yielded to tho col
onel’s urgent request to pass a few
days with him. Their mutual liking
increased upon better acquaintance,
and in a few weeks the White Phan
tom’s ring, inscribed with the names
of Merritt Hill and Laura Lawrence,
served as a sacred symbol of their
union for life.
Workmen’s Wanes iu 1800.
, In ttip great .pities unskilled work
men were hired by the day,bought their
own food and found their own lodging.
But in the country, on the farms, or
wherever a hand was employed on
some public work, they were fed and
lodged by the employer and given a
few dollars a month. On the Penn
sylvania canals the diggers ate the
coarsest diet, were housed in the rud
est sheds, and paid $6 a month from
May to November and $5 a month
from November to May. Hodcarriers
and mortar-mixers, diggers and chop
pers, who from 1793 to 1800 labored
on the public buildingß and cut the
streets and avenues of Washington
City, received S7O a year, or, if they
wished, S6O for all the work they could
perform from March 1 to December 20.
The hours of work were invariably
from sunrise to sunset. Wages at
Albany and New York were three
shillings, or, as money then went, forty
cents a day; at Lancaster, $8 to $lO a
month; elsewhere in Pennsylvania
workmen were content with $6 in
summer and $5 in winter. At Balti
more men were glad to be hired at
eighteen pence a day. None, by the
month, asked more than $6. At
Fredericksburg the price of labor was
fromsstos7. In Virginia white meD,
employed by the year, were given £l6
currency; slaves, when hired, were
clothed and their masters paid £1 a
month. Around Virginia a pound
was, in Federal money, $3 33. The
average rate of wages the land over
was, therefore, $65 a year, with food
and, perhaps, lodging. Out of this
small sum the workmen must, with
his wife’s help, maintain his family.
The Great Glacier of Alaska.
According to a San Francisco paper,
the great glacier of Alaska is moving
at the rate of a quarter of a mile per
annum. The front presents a wall of
ice 500 feet in thickness; its breadth
varies from three to ten miles and its
length is about 150 miles. Almost
every quarter of an hour hundreds of
tons of ice in large blocks fall into the
sea, which they agitate in the most
violent manner. The waves are said
to be such that toss about the largest
vessels which approach the glacier as
if they were small boats. The ice is
extremely pure and dazzling to the
eye; it has tints of the lightest blue as
well as of the deepest indigo. The
top is very rough and broken, forming
small hills, and even chains of moun
tains in miniature. This immense
mass of ice, said to be more than aver
age of a thousand feet thick, advances
daily toward the sea.
TIHELYTOPICa
The cousump'lon of tea has been gradu
ally increasing of late years in Great
Britain, until now the English drink live
times as much tea as coffee. In this coun
try coffee is the favorite beverage, and
we consume eight times as much uoffee as
tea.
If ague or insanity is latent in a per
son it will almost always develop itself
at sea. So Dr. Fourness-Brice concludes
after studying the subject as it is re
vealed in the records of North Atlantic
emigrant travel. Curious enough, in
nearly every case the patient has been
ailing, and has been recommended by
his medical attendant to “try a sea voy
age-"
London is now a city Of gardens.
Even in the heart of the city proper you
are constantly stumbling on verdant
nooks bright with flowers. Comfortable
benches abound, which arc usually well
filled, more especially in such a delight
ful summer as that with which England
lias this year been favored. Between
1 and 2 some of these haunts are full 0 1
young business men, who, after lunch
eon, seek their repose with a cigarette
and newspaper, for a precious half hour.
The ground around St. Paul’s is now
beautifully planted and bright with par
terres.
If the report came from! the West, it
would be considered a playful stroke of
fancy, but London Nature is authority
for the declaration that “the eels of the
ponds in the woods ot Vincennes leave
the ponds every spring in large numbers,
making their way to the Seine or tho
Marne, several kilometers distant. They
take advantage of rainy weather, when
the herbage is wet, and their instinct
guidesthem directly to their destination.”
And such emigration by eels and otber
fishes is not uncommon elsewhere, Na
ture says. "Thus in the marshes of
Picardy eels arc often found on the grass
going from cne pond to another.”
The White mountnid forests have
within a few years passed from the ear
lier proprietors into the hands of specu
lators, railroad companies and other par
ties, who have no interest in them be
yond the sale of the timber for the mak
ing of money. Any one who makes a
tour along the railroads that pass through
the notches and wind around the moun
tains can see that serious havoc has been
tnade. New Hampshire has the legal
control of this region, but Massachusetts
and Connecticut are- deeply interested in
the water supply, which the cutting off
of the dense forests would destroy.
Thousands of mills are run by these
streams, and thousands of farms made
arable.
We read in the Photographic Time*
that at the recent convention of the Pho
tographers’ association of America, in
Buffalo, an informal gathering of some
of the members took place at the back
of the arsenal, in which the meetings
were held, and some group photographs
were obtained. One was taken at the
moment when a number of the members,
according to a request made, threw their
hats high in the air with a view of pro
viding a test for the rapidity with which
the exposure was to be made. It was so
successful that, in the photograph, these
hats are to be seen at every stage of ele
vation. The evidence ot the instantaneity
of the exposure is to be found in the
fact of the numerous hats in mid-air,
when examined by a magnifying glass,
being as sharp and full of detail as those
which still occupied their normal posi
tions on the heads of their respective I
owners.
Speaking of cremation the New York
Trihune says: “The time required for the
reduction of a human body to ashes by
this process depends, of course, entirely
upon the heat. At a temperature of
2,500 degrees thirty minutes are allowed
for every 100 pounds. An ordinary
body would thus be cremated in about
three-quarters of an hour. The soap
stone bed is then withdrawn and the
ashes are collected and placed in an urn.
If cremation ever becomes the recog
nized manner of disposing of the dead,
the process can be shortened by the use
of a hotter fire. It is estimated that
there are about three pounds of mineral
ash to every 100 pounds of flesh, blood
and bones in the human frame. These
figures vary, however, with the physi
cal build of the subject. The bones
contain most of the mineral matter.
Stout men will, therefore, leave less
ashes in proportion to their weight than
thin and bony persons.”
The American consul at Elberfend,
Germany, sends a ieport to the state de
partment, Washington, referring to
trichiniosis. It appears from official
sources that there were no less than 466
cases in the district of Magdebourg dur
ing the latter part of 1884, of which
sixty-six proved fatal. The malady, ac
cording to this official authority, was
mainly due to the eating by many persons
of portions of one diseased pig, born,
fed and slaughtered in Germany. Official
inquiry showed that in the cases where
disease ensued the meat had been eaten
raw; in other cases where the meat of
the same animal had beeu eaten after
being well cooked the parties were unaf
fected by it. The subject of cooking the
meat bring thus brought up the prefect
of police published all the details in a
Berlin newspaper, and gave special in
structions in regard to cooking. He
advises, to secure exemption trom risk,
that incisions be made a few inches apart
over the entire piece of meat before bull
ing or roasting.
One of the curiosities of newspaper
literature is the ever increasing size of
it* snakes. 'lhe rattlesnake haa grown
VOL X. NO. 32.
with irresistable persistency during the
last fifteen years. Laet year, in Pike
county, Pennsylvania, he led the n
conda by a trifle. This year be ie still
considerably larger. A young lady in
Missouri, flushed with dancing, stepped;
upon a vine-covered veranda. A
cage hung amid the vines. _ She tapped
lightly upon the wires, wishing to at
tract the attention of the inmate. As
she did so an enormous rattlesnake
encircled her Wrist and glided down her
arm. She fell in * ewoon. The snk&
coiled himself upon her bosom, and
sounded hie rattle: but ho did not strike.
Just then the dance music broke forth,
in the liveliest strains; the snake paused,
listened, unwound himself, and glided
peacefully away in its direction. The
young lady was not stung, but she did
not escape serious injury. Three of her
ribs were broken by the enormous weight
of tho - reptile, and she certainly would
have been crushed to death had the music,
not drarwn him so speedily away! ,
1
A New York Church congregation re
cently made quite it ceremony of the
burning of a mortgage which, “in the
order of Providence,” they had been
enabled to pay 'off. After the sermon
the pastor stepped down from the cbaucel
and took from within his vest a folded
manuscript. “This,” said he, “is 8
mortgage. Until now I’ve never seen,
one. Have you any idea what the holders
of this bond could do? They could
turn you out of your church, but, thank
heaven, they can’t do it now, for it is
paid.” He then tore the paper into
Slips, and crumbling the pieces into a.
ball, placed it cm a tray. Lighting a
small lamp, he ignited the bail, and
while the congregation sang the doxoi
ogy, the mortgage paper of $6,000 was'
burned to ashes. When the services
ended, the trustees assembled and held
a second cremation. Upon the same
tray which hold the ashes of the mort
gage the note was burned. During the
service many of the older members were
moved to tears. The ashes are now in
closed In a scaled envelope, but will be
placed in a silver urn, which, with the
lamp, will bo inclosed in a glass case and
hung in the parlor of the church.
Japanese Customs.
Ordinarily the Japanese take their
meals in silence. According to the old
codes, conversation is almost prohibited.
It is considered a mark of good breeding,
however, when eating and drinking, to
draw the breath with considerable noise.
This is supposed to indicate that the guest
is enjoying his food. On taking up a
residence in anew place, the stranger
rnaken the first calls. Going round to
the houses of the older residents, the
new-comer formally announces that she
has recently moved into their honorable
neighborhood, that she will probably be
a very troublesome neighbor, but hopes
that they will bo gracious.
The giving of presents in Japan is car
ried so far that it sometimes becomes
burdensomo. What would by us be con
sidered a very flight favor is often ac
knowledged by the Japanese with a
handsome gift. On one occasion a ser
vant handed me a package containing a
really beautiful silk picture nicely mount
ed. A card with the name of the giver ac
companied the package; but I did not re
member the name, and had do idea from
whom the present had come. I found
afterward, however, that the donor was
a young woman who had been recom
mended to one of my friends as a nurse.
This friend, not understanding the Japa
nese language, had called me in to
interpret for her. As the result of the
interview the woman had been employed
for some time, and it was in acKnowl
edgement of my slight service a3 inter
preter that the present had come. In
presenting a gift the donor always- de
preciates its value, and usually assigns
some reason for its presentation. Ordi
nary presents are wrapped in fine, white
paper, and tied with red and white paper
cord in a prescribed bow-knot. A tiny
piece of colored pajjer folded in a special
manner, and containing a bit of dried
sea-weed, is placed on the wrapper so as
to point toward the name of the sender.’
The present is then wrapped in or cov
ered with a square piece of cloth called
a furoshiki. Furoshiki are sometimes
made of cotton and sometimes of crape
or silk. The more elegant ones used on
ceremonious occasions are often called
fukusa, and are richly embroidered in
gold thread. The furoshiki should be
returned, and in returning it it is cus
tomary to include in it some small gift,
or one or two sheets of the soft, white
paper called haushi. A favorits wedding
| gift is a pair of tai, a fish much prized
Iby the natives. Members of the family
give clothing, and sometimes money.
During the first week after a death in
a family presents of cake, eggs, etc., are
sent to the bereaved to prevent the ne
cessity of preparing food for the numer
ous friends who call on visits ox condo
lence. Gifts of money to help defray
' the funeral expenses are also sent.
When a child enters schoo'. a present
is usually given to the teacher. This is
sometimes a basket of fruit, or a box of
eggs, or a sponge cake. I have even
known a paper bag of sugar to be pre
sented under such circumstances, amt on
| placing a child at boarding school it is
not unusual for the parents to bring
presents of confectionery for all the pu
pils.
No Japanese would think of making
a journey without bringing to his near
friends a miyage, or memento of the
place visited. In Japan men are the
“beasts of burden,” but even the coolie
who draws your jinrikisha or bears your
luggage upon his shoulder to a place of
interest contrives somehow to spare a
; few cents for a miyage.— Harper' Bazar.
■ HU
A Venetian gondolier makes on an gv
-1 erage four francs, about eighty cents a
! day, the year round. On this he will marry,
! rear a family and put some money away.