Newspaper Page Text
VOL/ XII.
ELLIJAY COURIER
PUBLISHED EVERT THURSDAY
—BY—
COLEMAN * KIRBY.
GENERAL DIRECTORY
Superior Court meets 3d Monday in
May and 2nd Monday in October.
COUNTY OFFICERS.
J. C. Allen, Ordinary.
T. W. Craigo, Clerk Superior Court.
M. L. Cox, Sheriff.
J. R. Kinciad, Tax Collector.
Locke Langley, Tax Receiver.
Jas. M. West, Surveyor.
G. W. Rice, Coroner.
Court of Ordinary meets Ist Monday
in each month.
town council. .
E. W. Coleman, Intendant.
L. B. Greer, |
J.‘ R vS’jr. Commissioners.
T. J. Long, J
M. T. Dooly, Marshall.
RF.r.retous services.
Methodist Episcopal Church South—
Every 3d Sunday and Saturday before.
G. W. Griner.
Baptist Church—Every 2nd Saturday
and Sunday, by Rev. E. B. Shope.
Methodist Episcopal Church—Every
Ist Saturday and Sunday, by Rev. T. G.
Chase!
FRATERNAL RECORD.
Oak Bowery Lodge, No. 81, F. A. M.,
meets Ist Friday in each month.
L. B. Greer, W. M.
T. H. Tabor, S. W.
.T. W. Hipp, J. W.
R. Z. Roberts, Treasurer.
1). Garren,S tcretary.
W. S. Coleman, 8. D.
W. C. Allen, J. D.
S. Garrcn, Tyler.
R. Ta PICKENS,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
ELLIJAY, GEORGIA,
Will practice in till the courts of Gil
mer nnd adjoining counties. Estates
nnd interest in land :i specialty. Prompt
attention given to nil collections.
_ 10-21-85
DR. J. R. JOHNSON,
Physician and Surgeon
ELLIJAY, GEORGIA-
Tenders his professional services to the
people of Gilmer and surrounding coun
ties and asks the support of his friends as
heretofore. All culls promptly filled.
E. W. COLEMAN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
ELLIJAY. <3A.
Will practice in B u Ri ’ge Cirenit, County
Cm i Justice < oiiit -> timer Comity. Legal
business solicited. Tt uuiptuesv" in our motto.
Oil. J. S. TfiNKERSLEY.
Physician and Surgeon,
Tend-rs his professional services to the eiti
pens cf Eilijay, Gim ■ r and surrounding c ;V.i
ties. Alt calls promptly atieud <1 to. Office
rpa;airs over tlio firm of Cobb & Son.
i FE WALDO THCRNTOM, D.D.B.
DENTIST,
Calhoun, Ga.
VI ill visit EUijav and Morganton at
both the Spriug and Fall term of the
Superior Court—and oftoner by special
contract, when sufficient work is guar
anteed to justify me in making the visit.
Address aa above. Tmavil-1*
Young men
Who wish a i'nononOH preparation lot
Busines-, will find superior advantages*!
MOORE’S BUSINESS UNIVERSITY,
ATLANTA GA
The largest ana best Practical Business Sohoo
in the South. can enter at any
time. for circulars,
WHITE PATH SPRINGS!
—THE—
Favorite and Popular Resort of
NORTH GEORGIA!
Is situated 6 miles north of Elliiay on
the Marietta & North Georgia Railroad.
Accommodations complete, facilities for
ease and comfort unexcelled, and the
magnificent Minctai Springs is its chief
attraction. For other * particulars on
board, etc., address.
, Mbs. W. F. Robertson,
Ellijay, Ga.
CENTRAL HOTEL!
Ellijay, Georgia.
In the special popular resort for commercial
men and tourists of all kind, and is the general
bouse for prompt attention, elegant rooms and
are second to none, in this place. Reasonable
rates.
Mrs. M. Y. Teem will give her personal at
tentjon to guests in the dining ball. IH4
Mountain View Hotel!
ELLIJAY, QA.
’Shis Hotel la now fitted op in oral
lent order, and is open for the reeepttea
Every possible eftort will bn seeds te
malts *e Mountain Vies^At^uosOpop^
aVEfy lokl
and lisd *tesfli it—lotion wMi Met.
Cuagte MHteoafi te and from all teatm
froOtf sltetpa. Mly
THE ELLIJAY COURIER.
THE RIVER OF REST.
A beautiful stream is the River of Reet;
The still, wide waters sweep clear and
cold.
The tall mast crosses a star in the west,
A white sale gleams in the west world's
gold;
It leans to the shore of the River of Rest—
The lily-lined sho e of the River of Rest.
The boatman rise*, be roaches a hand,
He knows you well; be will steer you
true,
And far, so far, from all ills upon land.
From hates, from facts that pursue and
pursue;
Far over the lily-lined River of Rest—
Dear mystical, magical River of Rest.
A storied, sweet stream is this River of Rest:
-• The scuts of all time keep its ultima e
shore;
And journey you east or journey you west,
Unwilling, or willing, sure footed or sore,
You surely will come to this River of Rest—
This beautiful, beautiful River of Rest
—Joaquin Miller.
A GOSSIPS DEED.
Miss Perkins cleared . her throat and
looked knowing.
**l didn’t s’pose you'd care so much,
’Nervie,” she said, after a moment of
silence, during which the young girl had
turned her face away.
Miss Perkins was one of the born ag
gravators of humanity in general and in
particular. Minerva Woodford felt hop
ribly tempted to tell her so. But Mi
nerva had wonderful self-control for
such smiling azure eyes and thick-massed,
ungovernable auburn hair. It was no
light imposition, this that she had borne
throughout that glorious midsummer af
ternoon ; the company of Miss Perkins
“to tea,” the threads of gossip Miss Per
kins unraveled (inch for inch with the
yarn of the great gray balls from which
she was always knitting ugly stockiugs
for Heaven knew whom) and knit up
slowly with her own peculiar skill of nar
ration into a substance quite as ugly and
durable as the product of her hands.
It was one of Miss Perkin’s self-en
joined duties to communicate disagree
able tidings, fcho felt a delightful sense
of peace and contentment now that she
had concluded her task of enlightening
her young and motherless hostess!
“’Nervie was a good girl and hadn’t
ought to be deceived leastest,” she said
to herself, “more ’specially by such a
worthless critter as that Jason Hawkes.”
“I didn’t s’pose you’d care so much,”
she repeated, with an air of sympathy.
Minerva was reaching thr ugh tho win
dow to break off some of the pink roses
that hung there red-ripe ana luscious.
She did not obey her impulse to turn and
speak sharply,She did not say out her
thought. “’Nervie!” How the hated to
be called “ ’Nerviot” No one with any
sense called her anything but Minnie.
No one but Miss Elvira Perkins. She
wished Miss Perkins would never come
to 6ee her.
She thought ail this, but what she said
was milder, as she faced about caieicssly
and stood arranging the roses.
“I am sure I hardly understand you,
Miss Perkins. Why should you suppose
I cared what was said about Jason
Hawkes? Surely he has a right tom irrv
whom he pleases.”
She might have been a little paler than
usual, but her voice was quite steady.
Miss Perkins smiled discreetly.
“There ain’t much chance for the
young girls,” she observed, “ when
there’s a designin’ widow come to town.
Mis’ Darrell’s just got Jason Hawkes
wound completely round her finger.
’Tisn’t that he’s so much account, though
if he’d inqrried you, you could’ve had a
good influence. He's altogether too
fond o’ race-hprses and such-like evil
doings. But Tor her to come an I set
herself up so mightily—why, she ain’t
once returned your call now, I’ll be
bound.”
Minerva’s lovely face flushed painfully
at the reminder. She stepp.d from sit
ting-room to kitchen and put some water
in a vase for the roses. Her heart
throbbed with a great ache, but never
should her caller know it.
“It’s almost time for father to come,”
•he sad, quietly. “I'm going to set the
table now, Miss Perkins. Will you sit
by the door? I’ll bring your chair.”
“Oh, law! I can manage for myself,”
said the elderly maiden, rising in some
haste to push the wooden rocker before
her over the sill and down the length of
the shining kitchen. It was a wing of
the house facing the road, and the door
was open.
A sudden hoof-beat and a rumble of
wheels on the soft and yellow, dusty
road. A carriage spun by after a certain
well-known pair of jet black horses.
Miss Perkins seat up a shrill little cry
of triumph.
“T never! There they go; he’s driving
her out to the fair grounds. What do
you think of that, ’.Nervie? ”
But Minerva made no reply.
Miss Perkins turned only to see the
girl slip quietly from the roam.
Miss Perkins sat there alone for a con •
siderable space. The tea-kettle had be
gun to sing cheerily. The smiwy table
cloth and the shining glassware had an
inviting aspect. There was plenty of
Miss Perkins’s favorite sauce and sweet
pickle ; there was just the kind of tea
biscuit and cocoanut cake that she doted
on. She clo.-ed her eyes and clasped
her hands with a sigh of thankfulness
for duty performed and blessings about
to be enjoyed.
Then -Minerva’s father arrived.
“How-dy, Miss Perkins? ” he said.
“Where’s Minnie?”
Minerva reappeared, just a little pale
and shadowy around the eyes.
“Here I am, father,” she said gently;
“tea ia ready. I hod something to d6,
I’d most forgotten."
Miss Perkins went sway just after tea.
She did not atop to “help ‘Nervie do
the dishes,” as usual. It was getting
dork, and she hod a long walk, she sud
den 1 y remembered
Minerva went ab ut he.' work quite
unassisted. Her father was due at onie
village meeting, and so presently she
was left alone iu the house.
A terrible sense of depression fell upon
her. She wondered if Jnaon Hawkes
were coining She was • uite prepared.
She had averytluu ready to return to
him—hi* lettoi* aud the Rule pearl ring
he had given he I vwything was
wrapp'd securely the package was too
heavy f rgher pocket—quite too heavy
She wondered if lit would coins. And
"A MAP OF BUST LIFB-ITS FLUCTUATIONS AND TTM TAFT OONCBBNS .
ELLIJAY. GA.. THURSDAY, APRIL 14. 1887.
how should she feel after the had given
all bock to him and said to him that they
had better part? She hardly knew. Oh.
life was hard, and bitter! Jason had
loved her—she knew he had loved her
until that women had come to the vil
lage. the “designing widow.” as Miss
Perkins had said. Perhaps Miss Perkins I
was right.
Minerva finished her work and went
to sit on the porch. The air was heavy
with the scent of rose and honeysuckle'.
And she felt her heart within her as cold
as a stone.
She had sat there less than half an
hour when the gate opened and a form
familiar < amc swiftly up the walk. Her
cold heart seemed for a moment to stand
still. Then it throbbed painfully.
“Good evening,” she answered very
quietly to h ; s “good evening.” But she
didn't give him her hand.
The rest all came about very swiftly.
O pride, for thy stern sske how many
hearts are wrung!
He should never know that she had
learned his treachery. He should simply
believe she did not care for him. “Here
are your letters and the ring,” she said
swiftly, glad that the darkness vailed
he.- pallor.
Jason Hawkes received them in bitter
silence.
“As you choose, then, coquette,” he
muttered, aud, turning, strode away.
Minerva Woodford tossed wakefully
upon her bed that night. It was the first
great trouble of her life. First troubles
are so bitter.
Everything recurred to her —every-
thing that Miss Perkins had told her
concerning Mrs. Darrell. The widow was
young and pretty. Why should Jason
care for her? She had come from the
city and was bright with city ways and
city talk. She seemed to have money in
abundance. Oh, it was cruel! The whole
thing was cruel 1
Minerva fell asleep only toward the
dawn. She rose pale and heavy-eyed for
the morning, yet strong in the intention
of concealing her.grief.
The summer day dragged heavily
toward noon, more heavily after. Time
was so long, so long. It* seemed a cen
tury since Miss Perkins had been there
with her tale of Jason Hawkes’s devotion
to the young widow. But the dream was
over. It was Minerva’s task to forget
their plighted vows, to forget the hand
some face that had been so dear to her.
I robably he would leave the village—
when he had married tho widow.
Minerva’s eyes grew dim; she felt a
choking sensntion and stepped to the
open door, hoping the soft summer
breeze would cool her hot iorehead.
As she stood there she suddenly heard
a sharp cry of distress, then something
tore past in the road, beating up the yel
low dust in blinding clouds.
“A runaway,” she said, and her heart
seemed to cease beating for an instant.
She lan down the path and out into
the road. The horses had dashed on,hut
something of a wreck was perceptible a
short distance off.
Minerva thought she could see some
one lying by the roadside. She ran on
toward it at her utmost speed.
“Oh, Jasou, Jason!” sho moaned,
bending down over him.
Not dead, thank Heaven! Only
stunned, perhaps. She raised hiß head,
loosened his collar and asked herself
what next.
Turning for a moment she looked back
down the road and saw someone going
in at her own gate. It was a woman.
She flew back toward home to ask help
of whomever it might be.
It was Mrs. Darrell! Bhe was very
pale, aud addressed the girl anxiously.
“I’m afraid an accident has hap
pened Mr. Hawkes. His team ran
away— —”
“He is lying in the road unconscious,”
Minerva interrupted. “Will you help
me some way to ”
“Let us go quickly,” said the other.
And so they had not lost an instant.
Jason had come to himself.
“Badly shaken up, that’s all,”hesaid,
with an unnerved laugh, and, leaning on
their arms, limped back to Minerva’s
home.
Minerva drew up the arm-chair in the
sitting-room, and left him there with
Mrs. Darrell, going herself into the
kitchen to make a cooling drink for her
guests, perforce.
Through the open door between the
rooms she could hear Jason’s voice
gloomy and disturbed.
“Good thing, perhaps, if I had been
killed. Wouldn’t have cared much.”
“Oh, tut you shouldn’t say that,” the
soft voice of Mrs. Darrell replied. “You
ought to care. Things may come right,
you know.”
Minerva's heart seemed to twist up
within her in a sudden jealous frenzy.
She could fancy just how the widow’s
dark, soft eyes were gazing into his;
just how her white and graceful hand
lay on his arm.
Yes, things might come right. But
why should .Tasou speak gloomily? She
had given him his freedom.
The hand with which she offered him
the glass of lemonade shook percep
tibly.
Did Jason observe it?
“I am going away to morrow, Miss
Woodford,” he said, rather sti lly. “Per
haps I may carry your good wishes with
me. I greatly regret having made you
-this trouble.”
The widow had slipped out on the
porch.
“It is no trouble whatever Mr.
Hawkes,” replied Minerva.
“Miss Woodford,” said a soft, smooth
voice from out anions the roses: “won’t
you please come out here a moment?”
Minerva obeyed.
The widow came near the girl and laid
her gentle hand upon her arm.
•‘I have heard so much of you,” she
said, in a low tone. “1 feel as if we
might he friends. I have been trying
to come and see you for so long; I wa
on my way the’ morning. I’m afraid
you feel unkindly toward poor Jason.
Please, don't feel so. lie inti not Ix-eii
to blame”
Minerva's heart was boiling within her.
Khe answered with au effort.
“I was no) aware of any unkind feel
ings. It can interest you very little how
I feel."
“Oh, hut pardon me! It interests me
esceedingly. ’
"Oh!" said Minerva, with sudden
sarcasm. "To be *tire! I forgit. Will
you p rmit me to cm.g. ululate Mr.
llawkes?”
dis Dsrr. ll looked peiplcxe.l
ofigrutulute : For wimi'”
pon his eni/itgemeiit to you,” said
Minerva with a little gasp.
“You—foolish—child ! Who put suds
nonsense in your head;” Mr*. Darrell
was actually laughing."' “Did you fancy
—why, child, I am six yearroider than
he. Besides—l am to marry ha- cousin i
Frank, who is in Europe now. I thought
lie had told you. There, now, run in
to him and make it all up. Pm off for
the present. But EU pe back.”
Minerva turned into the house with
cheeks aflame.
“Jason,” she said.’ “I —I think I
was too hasty last nigtit. It—it was a
mistake.”
Jason sprang to his feet arid drew.Vfw,
into his arms j*
“Who was it that .ame gos*\ '*J to
you?” “Wasn’t it Miys '
“Y'es,” said MinerviC, slowly. “It was
Miss Perkins. But I don’t believe her
—now.” —New York Journal.
A Costly Dinner.
The public hears from time to time
about expensive dinna's that arc given
by wealthy men. Gel'George A. Sheri
dan, of New York, sPuck this topic toe
other day in a conversation, and told this
story:
“ During the 1880fgtmpaiga two good
friends of mine bltiffeu each other into a
bet of s*,ooo on ijfipeld and Hancock.
They were bothiulflH - sand,’ and both
would have paid i * case of losing the
bet. I knew that neither of them could
afford to pay. The next morning alter
the bet was made, and after they had
cooled down I got them together and
played my hand. I to'd them what
fools they were to bet $',0!)0 apiece and
got them to compromise on a dinner for
fifteen persons at Ddlmonico’s, having
the understanding that I was to order the
dinner. Well, we had the dinner. I
went to see Charley Delmonico about it
and told him I wanted the best dinne
he could serve for fifteen persons. He
wanted to know if I would limit him to
the cost of the wines, and I told him of
course not as I did not care, so long as
the wine did not cost $1,000,000 a Dot
tle. He then wanted to know what my
idea was, and I said that I presumed
thathe would serve a.big dinner at SIOO
a plate. He studied pwhile and replied :
• General, to lie honest with you, I could
not serve any one with a dinner at SIOO
a plate. I can serve you with a dinner
at SSO a head, equ-4 to anything that
any man ever ate or drank.’ Well, we
compromised for SSO, u head, and we had
a dinner, and it was a dinner. My friend
who had lost the best was so pleased for
not having to pay the $5,000 that he
called the chef and gave him a SSO bill,
so that his dinner cost trim SBOO. But
when I hear of sloo'dinnes I know it is
chaff.” *
Dead Faces in Buttle.
When we got into the Block Road in
trenchments, a man a few files to ray left
dropped dead, shotrjust above the right
eye. He did not gfcn, or sigh, or make
the slightest physical movement, except
that the chest heaved a few times. The
light went out nf his face instantly, leav
ing it without a particle of expression.
It was plastic, and, as the facial muscles
contracted, it took many shapes. When
the man’s body became cold, and his
face hardened, it was horribly distorted,
as though he had suffered intensely. Any
person who had not seen him killed
would have said that he had endured ex
treme agony before death released him.
A few minutes after he fell.another mau,
a little farther to the,left,fell with a pre
cisely similar wound. He was straight
ened out and lived for over an hour. lie
did not speak. Simply lay on his back,
and his broad chest rose and fell, slowly
at first, and then faster and faster, and
more and more feebly until he was dead.
And his face hardened and it was almost
terrifying in its painful distortion. I
have seen dead soldiers’ faces which
were wreathed in smiles; and heard
their comrades say that they had died
happy. Ido not believe that the face
of a dead soldier, lying on a battlefield,
ever truthfully indicated the mental or
physical anguish or peacefulness of mind
which ho suffered or en oyed before his
death. The face is plastic after death,
and as the facial muscles cool and con
tract they draw (he face into many
shapes. Sometimes the dead smile, ugain
they stare with glassy eyes, and lolling
tongue and dreadfully distorted visages
atyou. It goes for nothing! Onedeath
was as painless as the other.—Recollec
tionso/a Private.
Novel Consumption Cure.
“You see this car platform?” inquired
one passenger of another on an Illinois
C’ential suburban train. “Well, that
platform cured me of consumption ard
saved my life. You see, I come of a
consumptive amily. Mv mother died of
consumption, a sister and two brothers,
and a year ago I expected to go in the
same way. .Us soon as I saw that 1 was
going down I made up my mind to take
some desperate means of salvation. I
wasn’t financially able to go to Califor
nia or to travel anywhere except to and
from my wo k. So I did the next best
thing. Every morning in riding into
town I stood out on the platform, and,
drawing long breathe; filled my- lungs
full of l&fc'fresh air fro u the laive. At
first X conldn't inhale much, but by-and
by my lungs gathered strength, respira
tory cels that had long been unused began
to open nnd admit nature's life-giving
oxygen, and in a few months I was sur
prised at my own strength and good
health, as were my friends. 1 our times
a day—for I rode home to dinner and
bock again—l stood on the platform and
! inhaled as much of the air as possible.
! The weather made no difference to me—
rain, told, snow, blizzard. For more
than a year I haven’t sat down in a rail
way coach. Now I can draw a longer
inhalation than any man I know, and a
long inhalation means filling with air all
jof the cells of the lungs, bringing the
whole sytem into service, and I have no
more fear of consumption.” —Chicago
I IhraU.
Shaded (Andies.
The candle on the dinner-table holds
its place still. The latest device that the
art ware establishments have contrived
for its adorning is a sliding shade that
falls imp rceptibly a* the candle burns
lower. The shade i* mode in the simp e
Bohemian glasses, in decorated art glass
of evety description, and Is sometimes
Mien in rare cweled qln-s in every rich,
soft hue. The nburi a candle sheds over
table furnishing*, flowers and fares of
tin guests the vrly |ierfeotlou of light
that the dinner-givers have looked for
these many years la vain. Nett York
Mutl and he pirn.
EARTHQUAKES.
AN AMERICAN'S EXPERIENCE
IN SOUTH AMERICA.
Destruction of Valparaiso on a Gala
Occasion -- How the City of
Mendoza Looked After
an Upheaval.
Colonel 0. F. Steels, of Lancaster,
Ohio, resided for ten years in South
America. He lias been giving his earth
quake experiences in that country to a
Cincinnati Enquirer correspondent—“My
first experience,” said the Colonel, “was
a singular one. It was one of the his
toric earthquakes in South America, and
although I was in the midst of it, for
some strange reason, I did not feel the
awful shock which prostrated a city and
almost destroyed it, and which inspired
others with the most awful terror. -In
fact the work was done before I realized
what was going on.”
“Give me your experiences.”
“The earthquake to which I refer was
the one that practically destroyed Val
paraiso in IMSI. It was a gala day in
the city, and preparations had been made
to receive the President of Chili, who
was coming up from Santiago. All the
public and most of the private buildings
were gayly decorated, and tho populace
was on the qui vive in expectation of the
distinguished guest. W henever a cav
alcade would strike upon the Grand
Plaza, everybody would rush at out ex
pecting it to be the Presidential party,
only to be disappointed. I was stopping
at a hotel which opened out upon the
Plaza, and had been fooled a number of
times, and had resolved not to go out
again until I had a sure thing on It. In
the principal room of the hotel there was
a large round table, gathered about
which were a number of naval officers
and sailors from foreign ports, drinking
wine and celebrating the occasion
in fine style. In the centre of the
table was a lamp, used for lighting
tho room at night, nearly three
feet high, surmounted by a large
glass globe. The officers and sailors
were noisy and full of fun, and I sat
there enjoying their hilarity, when all
at once there came a noise as though
many squadrons of cavalry and artillery
had swept into the Grand Plaza. There
were wild and unusual cries outside and
I said to myself the President is here at
last, but I’ll just wait to make sure of it.
From the way thiugs began to shake
and tremble, I thought that the Presi
dent had all the heavy artillery of the
Republic in his train, with a view of
showing his greatness to such strangers
as might be iu town. The clamor out
side increased, but there were no hip
hip-hurrahs. There were strange and
wild ejaculations, the meaning of which
I could not comprehend, and quicker
than it takes me to tell it, all the revelers
at the round table ran out of doors ex
cept one ship captain who was more
than half seas over, and sat glaring
around as though he was dazed. Then
the wine-glasses began to leap like
frogs from the table and dash themselves
to pieces on the concrete floor. The tall
lamp began to gyrate and reel like a
drunken mau, whereat the captain
grasped it with both hands and shouted;
‘Put down your helm! Steady there!
Port your helm, you lubber! Hold her
hard-a-port! Don’t you see we’re run
ning right into <he breakers:’’ Leaving
the captain thundering out his commands
to an imaginary helmsman, and holding
on to the lamp like grim death, I stepped
outside to see what the unearthly com
motion meant. The street, as far ns I
could see, and the Plaza were filled with
uncovered human beings, kneeling aud
beating their breasts us though in the
agonies of supplication. This struck me
ns being a singular way to receive a
democratic ruler. Then I could sec tho
lofty buildings tumbling into heaps of
ruins, like children’s toy-houses, and
the long street in front of me looked
like a huge strip of carpet with
a giant at each end of it shak
ing the dust out of it. The un
dulations were perfectly natural, and
the dust rose in blinding masses. Then
I realized that we were iu the midst of
an earthquake. Although I felt the awful
tremors of the earth, I have no recollec
tion of the shock or shocks which threw
down the lofty buildings and wrecked
more or less all the others, including my
own hotel. There was much loss of life,
but it was a mere tritie compared with
what would have followed such an earth
quake in a North American city. With
the first subsidence of the earth’s con
vulsions all who were able started to 11 ee
to the mountains near the city, and I fol
lowed suit. They feared the incoming
of the tidal wave, whi h would have
been more destructive than the earth
quake itself. But it did not come. ”
“What became of the ship Captain
“He escaped unhurt, and saved the
globe intact. And. as incredible as it
may seem, it is nevertheless true that it
was the only pie e of glass or china ware,
in the city that escaped unbroken. It
was placed in a case, and is still pre
served in Valparaiso, with a suitable in
scription recording its miraculous escu[e
from the earthquake.
“Earthquakes were of common occur
rence, but were not always destructive.
They were of all degrees, from a mere
tremor to a terrible shakiug-up. But
when they came, great or small, hats
went off and prayers for deliverance
went up. On one occasion with a small
party I made a trip into the interior, and
stopped at the city of Mendoza. Here I
met an intelligent old Spaniard who had
read the life and achievements of Don
Cortes Washington, and he was so de
lighted with meeting one of his fellow
countrymen that ! had to stay with him
a week and tell him all about the United
States. One morning bright and early
we set out on our journey, and had pro
ceeded three or four leagues when we
heard the awful roar of an approaching
quake. Our tnulea set their feet wide
apart, braced themselves, put down their
beads and began to groan Willi lints
in hand we leaped to the ground, and
found it dlJ’cult to keep our feet. First
was the horizontal motion back ami
forth, and then the vast plain in all di
rections around us rose and fell like the
wave* of the sea, but with no sp|mrent
exterioor fissures. Th>- heavy tremors
coutiniied, and we imparked our mnlet
and estop# I where we were. Two
or three hours Liter a frightened
mule leer dashed past us aud sTiouled
“Mendoz • is destroyedWe mounted
our mules and returned. The scene pro
sented woe an awful one. The city had
been built for earthquakes and all the
buildings were one-story adobes. There
was not a foundation even left. The
streets could be traced, but the houses
themselves were extinguished. The beat
idea I can give of it is this: Take an im
mense tray and cover it with little heaps
of sand in regular r->ws, aud then give it
a sudden (hake hori ontally. The loose
sand Is scattered in indistinguishable
lines. That precisely answers the de
scription of Mendoza as we looked at it
from a swell in the plain.
“The effect of these earthquakes on
birds and animals was as marked as on
human beiugs. Abject terror seized
them all. You would see a flock of barn
yard fowls scratching and disporting in
the sunshine, the gay-plumaged cocks of
the walk strutting about like drum
majors at h dium parade. Suddenly the
earth would groau and tromble and
heads nnd wings would go down anil
the gallus birds would move along slowly
or cower down and utter the most piti
ful and doleful cries. The groaning 'of
the mules and cattle added to the terror
of tho scenes. Dogs and cats exhibited
human-like terror and wild animals and
birds would seem to be suddenly bereft
of their natures. There is nothing
amusing in an earthquake.
HOUSEHOLD MATTERS.
Good Oatmeal Mush.
A v Wtor, who -e ?med to be
Enjoying most exceedingly-
Tho faro at morn, declared, “I ne'er
Huch oatmoal tasted; tell me where
YOu get it, then I’ll surely go
And order twenty pounds or so.”
“ My friend,” I said with earnest look,
“ Tis not the grocer, ’tie the cook
Deserves our praise.” “Indeed,” shecried;
“ O, whl you n-)t at ouoe confide
The secret of the woudrus charm
That here is found? Indeed, the palm
Your cook may take, an ode or sonnet
You might, in truth, ex|jend upon it.”
“ The charm,” I said, “G simply this—•
Which epicure should nover miss—
Boil e'en from inorniug until night,
The day before you use it. Bright
And early you may rise, und then
Put on your meal to toil again.
Don’t let it scorch, or burn, to sjioil
The flavor; ouly boil—and boil-and boil."
— D. H. Thayer, in Plnrnological Journal.
The Use of Binning.
It is well to remember that too much
, blueing renders clothes yellow alter a
time. Inexperienced or cureless servants
think the more blueing in the water the
better for the wash: and it is a difficult
matter to convince them that the clothes
will look far better if only u small quan
tity is used. As blueing varies so much
in intensity experience only can teach
the required quantity. Usually half a
tnblcspoonful to a cup of water is suffl
; cicnt. It. should always bo diluted be
fore it is put in the tub; us, if not thor
oughly mixed before the clothes are put
in, unsightly streaks will bo the result.
, If the clothes are soaked over night one
tablespoonful of pure water ammonia in
each tub of water will materially lessen
the labor of washing. -n~-
Gleaning Wnll-Paper.
Cut into eight portions a loaf of bread
two dnyß old; must neither be newer nor
staler. With one of these pieces, after
having blown off all the dust from the
paper to be cleaned by means of a good
pair of bellows, begin at the top of the
room, holding the crust in the band, and
j wiping lightly downward with the
crumb, about half a yard at each stroke
until the upper part of the paper is com
pletely cleaned all around. Then go
round again, with the like sweeping
stroke downward, always commencing
each successive stroke a little higher
than the upper stroke had extended till
the bottom be finished. This operation,
if carefully performed, will frequently
make very old pa|ier look almost equal
to new. < rent caution must be used
not by any means to rub the imper hard,
nor to attempt cleaning in the cross or
horizontal way. The dirty part of the
bread, too, must be continually cutaway,
' and tho pieces renewed as may become
necessary. To take grease stains out of
wall-paper, mix pipe clay with water to
the consistency of crenin, lay.ngit on the
spot, and letting it remain till the fol
lowing day, when it may be easily re
moved with a penknife or brush.
Removing Cake from Puns
Mrs. Lincoln says iu Cno t Ihasek-rep
!ny: Line the cake tins with paper, al
low it large enough to come half an inch
above the top of the pm. Lay the pa
per Over the outside, and crease it round
the edge of the bottom of the pan. Fold
it in the middle lengthwise and cross
wise,and cut out the open corners to the
crease made hy the pan. Then fit it into
the inside, and grease the paper, not the
pan, with urisnlte l butter or lard. Round,
shallow pans for layer cakes should be
lined only on the bottom. Grease the
paper and edge of the pan. Cakes
should bake until they shrink from the
pan.
To remove the esike from the pan, lay
a clean bread or cake towel over a cake
cooler or wire sieve, or over a long, shal
low pan inverted. Run a slender knife
between the tin and the paper. Take
the cake out by lifting the paper on the
middle of each side and place it carefully
on the cloth, l ull tli- paper away from
the edges, and leave that on the bottom
until the cake is cool enough to be put
away. But if the loaf is to be frosted
turn it over in the cloth, and rt mo e the
paper.
.mother way, for layer cake- and
cakes not lined with paper—Loosen the
edges with a slender knife. Hold the
pan in the right hand, slip the left band
under the cake cloth: turn the pan over,
letting the cloth meet the cake half
way, then lower the cake iu the cloth to
ward tho left. Remove the fun. if it
does not come off readily, tap it on the
bottdm with a knife, lesie it a few mo
ments, and then should it fail to come
off, stoop so thiit you can see under the
Dan, raise the end gently and siip the
Kuife under and scrape nwav what has
stuck to the pn In this way a broken
piece is fitted into its pine i with little
trouble As soon ns the pan is removed
turn the cske over l.y tu iiing it in the
cloth so as to leave it right side up.
Tuis prev nl- the cake from be oming
heavy by tin- we ght of the hand, or by
its own weight In lulling The under
cru-t ll much nicer than whan left to
sweat in the pan
A wile w indow n reeu thirty im he*
long by tiftien wide, with cleats iu the
end* o *p o! on the corner*, to keep I
the wite two inches front the table, I* a I
con vhi t*nl cake cooier.
OVB DOLLAR Per Amnmm, Im “
MISU.7 Li ER STOOD.
If death could write ou every heart
The cause that drew its blood,
How mny would he written o’er
With this: ‘Misunderstood!”
Lo! every deed hes latent cause:
O critic, seek that first;
The laws of Nature cannot chrfuge—
The weak are not the worst.
Should we condemn the tiny flo'
Which bloodi upon the hill <
Because the mighty oak above
Remains a monarch still?
A law diviue demands the oak,
Nor les'. demands the flower;
Shall we, in passing neath the oce,
Ignore the varied power
Creating weak and strong alike!
Look deop, O man, and know
That God hath formed our minds too sran
To know os he doth know. *
The feelings of a human heart
Are far too vast and gdoad
For other hearts to stand aloof
And boost; “We understand!” f
it.
We cannot know each other's hearts;
The mold of each He breaks,
And forms anew the clay and mold
With every heart he makes.
Then why should man, a finite work.
Be bold and quick to say;
“I grasp the all of yonder man;
He, too, is formed from clay 1”
—Eugene Ashton.
pitFanF POINT.
A frim figure—A barber’s charge for a
hair cut.
Strange as it may seem, when money
is close it is difficult to get very neat it.
The dime museum woman, who writes
with her toes must make a great many
foot notes.— Button Bullet in.
After all there is no college war-cry
that thrills a studont with a healthy
appetite equal to a call for dinner.—Bi/t
--ings.
A series of practical talks to girls has
begun in Boston. With our girls the
most practical talk is the proposal.—
Philadelphia Call,
With Healthy baud be strove to clip,
Oue golden ringlet from her bead.
"Ah, don’t!” Then, with a smiling lip,
“They are my sister June’s,” she said.
—Harper’* Magazine.
Somebody inis sent us a treatise on the
source of the Mississippi, but what would
interest us more just now is the source of
a big boil ou the back of our neck.—
Dantcille Breeze.
A gardener who married an extremely
homely widow gave as a reason for his
action that he had u strong aversion to
weeds and never saw them without using
means to destroy them.— Boston Courier.
German songs are now the fashion in
society, nnd musical reporters are having
a hard time in trying to determine the
difference in sound between murdered
English und eliminated German. —Boston
Globe.
“Our people adesire extempore ser
mons, aud yet you persist In using
notes.” Famishing pastor—“My dear
brother, as I never have any notes in my
pocket hook to use, you should not ob
ject to my using them in the pulpit.—
Philadelphia Call.
The Wasp.
The wasp is found in most all coun
tries. but seems to have more business on
his m nd in North America than any
where else. Ho keeps both standard
and solar time, and is always ready to
fill an engagement by either. He doesn’t
care so much about what he eats, but he
ia very domestic and must have a home.
This is generally located under the.eaves
of a building insured for its full value,
though it sometimes hangs from the
limb of a tree or bush. As no wasp ex-
Eects to live to see the new year come in
e doesn’t break his back to lay in a
store of pork ami potatoes, and it makes
no difference to him whether coal goes
up or down. Me spends the time from
May to October iu sloshing around, at
tending c< ut.iy fairs, horse races und
wrestling matches, und having more or
less to and > in the harvest field and around
cider mills It is a disputed point
whether the wasp con bite harder than
the bull dog, b .t the weight of opinion
is In favor of the wasp He seems mad
about something oil the time, and it
doesn’t make any difference whether his
victim is the babe in the cradle or the
father in the barnyard. Five months is
the average life of the wasp, and he is
heard from altout as often as any other
insect on the programme.— Detroit Free
Press.
The Montana Turnip.
“That’s a o>d looking diamond you
are wearing,” said a Par Westerner to a
waiter in the restaurant at the North
western Depot.
“It’s a two karat stone,” said the
waiter, leaning over the counter.
“What did it cost:”
“Two hundied dollars.”
“I’ve got s .mottling here myself,"
said the cater, going down into his
pocket and pulling out a big gold nug
get.
“What do you call that?” asked the
waiter, with a short breath.
“No karat about that stone,” said the
Western man, weighing the nugget in
the palm of his hand. “That, sir, is a
Montana turnip.”— Chicago Herald.
A lieary Weight,
Some thousands of people visited
Prince* Knd Tipton, to witness the fu
neral of Mr. Sumu.-l Murtitt, who was
recently esh’bi ed as the largest man in
the world. The deceased, who died on
Friday after a few days’ illness, was a
native of Wiuihiiugton, Cambridgeshire,
and was fifty live year* of age Height,
U feet 1 inch: weight, 40 stone (300
Cuudsi; girth of waist, 100 inches, and
nieusured ?0 inch e found the calf ot
the leg. A hearse could not be found
large enough for the deceased's removal,
and the body had to be conveyed on a
flat. The sashes had to he removed from
the windows, and nearly twenty men
were . splayed <o get ihe eollin through
the window ou to the flat.—
UUIk,
luau ares ol 100,143 <|uars miles la
the northwest provinces of India there
are Mid teU (4,440,444 ilia-too#
NO. 5.