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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.