Newspaper Page Text
VOL. XII.
ELLIJAY COURIER
PUBLISHED EVERT THURSDAY
—BY—
COLEMAN It KIRBY.*
GENERAL DIRECTORY.
Superior Court meets 8d Monday iu
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
iu each month.
TOWN COUNCIL.
E. W. Coleman, Intendant.
L. B. Greer,
J.' R Commissioners.
~ T. J. Long,
W. H, Foster, Marshal.
RELIGIOUS SERVICES.
Methodist Episcopal Church South—
Every 8d Sunday and Saturday before.
G. Yv. 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.
J. W. Hipp, J. W.
R. Z. Roberts, Treasurer.
D. Garren, Secretary.
W. 8. Coleman, S. D.
W. C. Allen, J. D.
S. Garren, Tyler.
R. T. PICKENS,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
ELLIJAY, GEORGIA.
Will practice in all the conrts of Gil
mer and adjoining ' counties. Estates
and interest in land a specialty, Prompt
attention given to all collections.
DR. 1. 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 calls promptly filled.
E. W. COLEMAN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
ELLIJAY, GA.
Will practice in Blno Ridge Circuit, Conntj
Court Justice Court of Gilmer County. Legal
business solicited. “Promptness" is our motto.
DR. J. S. TANKERSLEY.
Physician and Surgeon,
Tenders his professional services to the citi
sens of Ellijay, Gilmer and surrounding conn
ties. All calls promptly attended to. Office
cpstairs over the firm of Cobb & Son.
ftUFE WALDO THORNTON, 0.0.8.
DENTIST,
Calhouk, Ga.
Will visit Ellijay and Morganton at
both the Spring and Fall term of the
Superior Court—and oftener by special
contract, when sufficient work is guar
anteed to justify me in Baking tho visit.
Address aa above. TmavJtl-li
WRITE PATH SPRINGS!
—THE—
Favorite and Popular Resort oj
NORTH GEORGIA!
Is situated 6 miles north of Ellijay on
the Marietta & North Georgia Railroad.
Accommodations complete, facilities for
ease and comfort unexcelled, and the
magnificent Mineial Springs is its chief
attraction. For other particulars on
board, etc., address,
Mbs. W. F. Robertson,
Ellijay, Ga,
Mountain View Hotel!
ELLIJAY, QA.
This Hotel is now fitted up in excel
lent order, and is open tor Mu receptios
of guests, under competent management.
Every possible effort will be made U
make the Mountain View the most popu.
!ar Hotel in IBljay. Accommodations iz
every department first-class. livery, suit
and leafcstshfeßta oeiraection with hotel.
GoeetMeansfMft to and from aX train*
frei fit lharga. 6*4 Iy
0 __________ *
825,000.00
IN GOLD!
v.in m; rttD ton
AEBUCKLEb' COFFEE WRAPPERS.
. Premium, • • 61.000.00
2 Premiums, • 6500.00 each
5 Premiums, • 8250 00 “
25 Premiums, • 8100.00 *
100 Premiums, • 850.00 M
900 Premiums, • 620.00 "
1,000 Premium!, 610.00 •’
I<*r full |rtl<nitnr uM diftMtioe* #* Cirou
Inr In rvmnr Kt-ihd of Anm Curr**.
THE ELLIJAY COURIER
PUSH AHEAD.
Up and on and do not wait
If you've anything to do;
Never be a moment late;
Drive ahead and push it througn.
Onward press without complaint ;
Never murmur, fret or scold;
Lingering never made a saint;
Vacant hearts no virtue hold.
Every moment keep in play
Nerve and faculty and grit;
Providence will haste the day
When with honor you will sit.
—Religions Herald.
A TROUBLESOME LAHE.
That line had always been a bone of
contention between Uncle Joe Allen and
his neighbor on the west. When the
country was new Uncle Joe and Samson
Freeholder had bought adjacent farms.
In some way or another they had not
agreed about the matter of building the
line fence. One wanted the privilege of
building it in his own way, the other
would not adopt that method; and so it
came about that they decided to build a
lane two rods wide, onc-lialf lying one
side the line and one-half on the other
side. Each man put up a fence the whole
length of the line, leaving that long strip
of land that neither could use.
W ith a considerable degree of propriety
the lane came to be known as ‘‘the
Devil’s Lane.” Similar lanes may be
found in certain parts of this country at
the present time, although they are fast
disappearing.
So the matter stood. The two men
let each other severely alone after the
fence was built. Each kept up the fence
on his side of the Devil’s Lane, never
venturing to do anything toward making
the land of value to himself or his neigh
bor.
Time brought gray hairs to those good
farmers, and at length Sampson Free
holder was gathered to his fathers. Then
the farm was sold to Dick Lamson, a
wide-awake thorough-going young fellow
who was bound to succeed in life.
Everybody said so, and wliat all in Spring
field agreed upon, who could question?
Uncle Joe was not blind to the young
man’s sterling qualities, and so it hap
£e_ned that wnen, iu the course of time,
•ick came to court his handsome daugh
ter Bess, he was very much inclined to
favor his suit. It was not long before it
came to be well understood that Dick was
“going with Bess,” and that they were
going to “get married” in a few months.
Matters were iu this condition when
once upon a time Dick happened to get
to thinking about that Devil’s Lane.
Then it stretched the whole width of his
farm, separating him from his prospective
falher-m-law.
At that time the lane was well calcula
tccl.to be an eyesore to -any energetic far
ther. If had Been allowed Eo rim to
waste for many years. No one had set
foot on it siuce the fences had been built
save now and then a venturesome boy
hunting rabbits, for which it furnished an
excellent retreat. For it had grown up
so thickly with shrubs, briars and weeds
that it was the next thing to impossible
for any one to force his way througli it.
In such a condition it wan of no use to
the men who owned the land. It looked
to Dick like a sheer waste of property.
There was a strip of land 100 rods long
and a rod wide that belonged to him,and
a piece of the same size which Uncle Joe
ought to have under cultivation.
Was it not poor policy to allow that
land to run wild in that way? So it
seemed to him. He knew nothing about
the circumstances under which the lane
had been built and possibly thought it
was only by chance.
“I’ll speak to Uncle Joe about it the
next time I’m over that way,” was Dick’s
resolution; and it was not long before he
had a chance to carry it into effect. The
old gentleman seemed to be in very good
humor the day Dick called on him, and
the two men sat on the fence half an hour
chatting about the crops and matters in
general. Finally the young man said:
“By the way, Uncle Joe, what do you
say to clearing up that land between you
and me and putting a good fence on the
line? That’s where it belongs. The use
of that iaud is worth something to us
both.”
Uncle Joe's lips closed for a moment
very tightly. Then he replied:
“It’s good enough for me as it is!”
Now, that meant a great deal from
Uncle Joe. It meant that he had not for
gotten the strife of almost half a century
ago with neighbor Freeholder, and that
he had no inclination now to depart from
the decision ho had then formed never to
help build a fence on the line.
Dick was not slow to see that there
was something back of the fanner’s re
mark, and he wisely said no more about
the lane.
But as fate would have it, the Legisla
ture of the State about that time hap
pened to recognize the fact that there
were a number of devil’s lanes inside its
boundaries; and appreciating the fact
that they were but standing monuments
of man’s perversity, someone introduced
a bill to do away with them for ever. In
case the parties in interest could not or
would not agree to build a joint fence,
the trustees of the township were author
ized to locate the line, build a fence upon
it and charge the expense to the general
tax.
This Dick knew, bnt his steady-going
neighbor did not. So that when some
one happened to remark to Dick that it
was about time the lane was closed up, it
set the young man to thinking very
earnestly.
Why should Uncle Joe persist so fool
ishly in maintaining that crop of bushes
and briars. His farm was everywhere
else a model of thrift. After a while he
ventured to approach Uncle Joe again on
the subject and told him, as the law then
was. he didn’t see but the lane would
have to be done away with. But the old
man was immovable'. It panes all com
prehension what an amount of Htigation
and neighborhood difficulty have grown
out of so simple a matter as the construc
tion of a line fence. Men sensible in
most matters have been made enemies for
life by just such a thing as that. It is
my duty to chronicle the feet that, the
more Dick thought about it, the more it
aroused him. It was downright rai-an
mm on the old man’* part to stand out
in that way, according to Dick's opinion.
Of course, he waa an old man now and full
of whimt; but be ought to listen to com
mon sense.
He finally talked it over with Bees,
MAP 09 MUST UTS-ITS TLUCTVATIOWB AMO ITS MAST COKCMMMS."
ELLIJAY, GA„ THURSDAY, MAY 26. 1887.
; "and, like the sensible girl she was,
she 'ought to act as a mediator be
tween the two men. It was not the first
time a woman's heart had been crushed
by the obstinancy of two men. like wheat
by millstones. Uncle Joe finally told
Bess never to mention the thing to
him again. The fence was all right as it
was and should not lie disturbed. He
had thought Dick Lamson “a pretty
square kind of a fellow,” but if that was
the way he was going to act, he didn't
want anything more to do with him; and,
as for Bess, she needn't think she would
ever get his consent to marry such an
out-and-out scoundrel as he was!
Of course that put the climax on the
trouble. Bess, with her lovely eyes full
of tears, told her lover the old man’s
decision, and Dick’s teeth came together
hard as he listened.
So it was war, was it? Well, if that
was so, he would see what the law could
do.
In about ten days after that the trustees
went out to the farms and very gravely
struggled through the tangled lane and
staked out the line. Then they served a
notice on the two men that they must
build a good legal fence there within
thirty days. Uncle Joe looked on, and
remarked that he knew what the law was
and he'd try to live up to it.
Dick went to work and cut rails and
drew them to the lane for the purpose of
building his part of the fence; but Uncle
Joe made no move in that direction. He
spent much of his time in the neighbor
hood of the lane. He carried his gun
most of the time. Now and then he
brought home a rabbit for dinner. He
bad been, so ho was fond of saying,
something of a hunter in his time, and
even now was counted a good shot for a
man of his age.
After Dick had finished splitting rails
for the fence, he had sharpened his axe,
and, taking a good scythe, went down
to clear the ground of brushes and
briars.
He knew this would be no small task,
but his arms were strong and his will
good. Hardly an hour had he worked
when a rifle shot rang out on the air and
his strong right arm dropped to his side
painfully wounded.
So severe was his injury that he could
do nothing toward discovering who fired
the murderous shot, and he was alone.
After he had made his way to the house,
the alarm was given and a crowd of men
and boys turned out and hunted the lane
from end to end, but in vain; no one
could be found hiding there, and the
deed remained a mystery.
In this way things stood for some time.
Dick’s arm healed slowly somehow. The
bone had been injured a little, the doctor
said. Dick saw Bess now and then. He
could not help noticing that the poor
girl’s cheeks were growing paler day by
day, and she seemed ready to. break down
whenever he came to see her. Her father
was home but little now. Night and day
he stood guard at-the binc.ii sturdy vet
eran on some self-imposed post of duty.
He had even slept out in the bushes sev
eral times all night, coming to his meals
in the morning stiff and sore from the
damp, but with a determined look on his
face. Ho was a man who never yielded
what he thought was right. The thirty
days given by law had passed, and the
Township Trustees “allowbd” to build
the fence in a few days. They had
watched things from a distance and knew
how desperate the old man was.
About this time Dick and Bess hap
pened to be sitting on the porch in the
harvest moonlight. Uncle Joe was out
on the fence probably. Neither of the
young people referred to him.
As they sat thus Dick turned his eyes
toward the Devil’s Lane. •
What was it he saw?
He sprang to his feet. Away down at
the farther end of the lane a cloud of
smoke curled lazily up.
As he watched, the breeze freshened a
little, and a lurid glare leaned angrily
skyward, sweeping the fire directly down
the lane.
Someone had fired the undergrowth
which crowded the lane.
It was a time of the year when every
thing was as dry as tinder. There had
been no rain for weeks, and fire like that
was a thing to be dreaded.
Where is your father, Bess?” m
The girl now rose quickly, and with
startled gaze looked toward the lane.
“He must be down yonder. Dick, I’m
afraid—you don’t suppose—”
“The bush is on fire. If your father is
there he is in danger. I will go and see
if lean find him.”
Before the words were fairly spoken
Dick had cleared the fence surrounding
the farm house, and was running swiftly
toward the fire, Bess following as fast as
she could.
How the flames did sweep through that
thicket! It seemed to lick the crackling
bushes up like leaves. If her father was
there—no; she couldn’t bear to think
what might be his fate. The old man
was tired with his watching. He might
have fallen asleep down there as he had
so often before.
Dick soon reached the lane and plunged
into the bushes as near the fire as he
dared. If Uncle Joe was behind hinS
then nothing short of a miracle could
save him. If in front, then he possibly
might be rescued from death in the
flames.
“Don’t come in here, Bess,” shouted
Dick as he saw the girl about to leap into
the thick growth of brushes near him.
“Go farther down and look along the
fence.”
Poor Bess obeyed silently. How like
a very giant he seemed to her* as be
tramped through the briars, mud and
bushes, tearing his face and hands terri
bly, bunting for the wilful old man who
had wrongea him so! Now there was his
right arm powerless! Did Bess know
who had fired the shot that had made it
so? If she did, she dutifully kept the se
cret.
On and on swept the flames, chasing
Dick like mad demons. The lower end
of the lane was in sight. That would
end the search. Where was the old man ?
Had he missed him? Could it be be had
indeed perished? Dick’s heart had soft
ened toward the old man. It was a use
less quarrel. He was ashamed of his part
in it. If he bad know how Uncle Joe 1
felt about it, he never would have said a
word about the miserable lane.
Suddenly a low cry fell on Dick's ears. -
It came from the rear, where the fire wn*
raging fiercely. Dick knew Uncle Joe
had t>oen found.
Could be reach him before it would lie
too latet God help him, he would try.
Nerving himself for the ordeal, he rushed
back through the smoke toward the apot
whence the cry proceeded. Again the
rail came, this time full of horror.
Plunging on, his feet hot, his breath
choked, and his clothing on fire iu
places, the young man heroically made
hisyvay.
When almost ready to drop he found
Uncle Joe staggering blindly toward the
place. He was fearfully burned and al
most exhausted.,. ■
Seizing him with his left .arm, Dick
bore him out into the meadow, and
placing him on the gnAkd, roiled him
over and over till the flsgmjl'Vhich were
eating into his flesh wewputout. Then
he fell to the earth hinjtejf unconscious.
By this time Bess hiwTreached them.
Quickly she wrapped Dick in her own
garments, deadening the fire, and he was
saved!
Two months after that Dick and
Uncle Joe, scarred and still weak, stag
gered toward each other and clasped
hands.
“I’ve been a fool, or crazy Dick!”
said Uncle Joe in a choked vo.t ■■ “I’m
ashamed of myself. Can’t you forgive
me?”
“Don’t take all the blame, Uncle Joe,”
was the young man’s reply. “I’ve done
wrong myself. I’m - sorry, let’s forget it,
and build a fence worthy the name.”
That was all that was said about the
Devil’s Lane. The joint fence was built,
and Uncle Joe kept his part up faithfully
as long as he lived. After that the two
farms were thrown into one, and Dick
and Bess are the happy man and wife who
live on the Allen homestead.
A Dyak Climber.
The Hill Dyaks of Borneo are expert
climbers. Mr. Hornaby, while collecting
specimens of natural history, saw a Dyak
ascend a large tapangtree, five feet in di
ameter at the base, straight as a ship’s
mast, and without the smallest limb or
knot for a hundred and twenty feet up.
The mau went up the tree to secure a
bees’ nest hanging from the under side of
the lowest limb. The nest was simply a
large, naked, triangular piece of white
comb. A Dyak “ladder” had been put
up the previous year, and reached from
the ground to the branches. It consisted
of seven twenty-foot bamboo poles held
almost end to end alongside the trupk by
sharp pegs 'driven into the soft wood
about two feet apart. The pegs were
driven first on one side of 'the poles and
then on the other, aad to them the bam
boos were lashed by rattans, which held
them firmly about eight inches from the
tree. These pegs eerved as the rungs of
the ladder. The builder must have been
a bold man, with nerves of steel. He was
obliged to let the ends of the poles over
lap a few feet in order to build the ladder
with safety to himself. The completion
of the ladder was'jgjpet difficult. Cling
ing to the slight bamboo pole, a hundred
feet from tho ground, ho hauled up the
last bamboo, twenfe“'” ;et long, drove in'
the peg, liishetl the.* ‘fi ")• the pole,
to it, and then nsefmipu'tna j •Mraiboo tor
fasten it at the top.
The Dyak honey-hunter fastened to his
back a basket to receive the honey. Mak
ing up his torch-wood, with which to
smoke the bees out of the nest and away
from himself, he ignited it, slung it by a
cord from his neck,so that it would haug
below his feet, and started up the slender
“ladder.” Hand and foot he went up,
peg after peg, with a nonchalant ease
which would have done credit to the
most daring of sailors. Even that sailor
would have been pardoned if he was a
little shaky, while climbing a tall factory
chimney by the lightning-rod. On reach
ing the lower limb, 120 feet from the
ground, he took his torch in one hand,
waved it to and fro,until it smoked free
ly, and then crawled out along the bare
branch until he was in reach of the cov
eted nest. Examining it first on one
side, and then on the other, he shouted
down as cheerfully as if his climb had
been nothing: “No honey!” Leaving
the comb untouched, he descended, with
a smile, and reached the ground without
the least tremor.
Seeing and Observing.
"1 nev>r was so impressed with the dif
ference between eyes and no eyes,” wrote
an English author lately, in a private let
ter, “as on a short journey I once made
with Charles Dickens in France.
“We spent half an hour in a station
house waiting for a train. As we left it
he said: ‘Did you see that miser sitting
by the door? No doubt he has a bag full
of gold buried in his garden at home.
Every coin had left a crow’s foot about
his eyes. Did you notice the lovers?
The unsuccessful rival was there, too.
fie was the bagman with the hooked
nose. And the young mother with her
baby?’
“ ‘I saw no baby,’ I said.
“‘No; it,was dead. But the mother
was with it, though she sat there alone
in the crowd.’
“Now, I had seen only an indistinguish
able crowd of people. I Tead no history
of greed, or love, or death, in their
faces.”
A story with a similar meaning is told
of a picture exhibited in New York a
year or two ago. A wealthy merchant
with his wife stopped before it. It repre
sented the tower of a church covered
with wild ivy, crimsoned by the frost,
and in its shadow an old Italian peasant
crouching over a basket of fruit.
“What a picturesque effect!” ex
claimed the millionaire. “Norman, eh?
Or Italian ?”
“The tower,” said the artist, wholiap
pend to be present, “is opposite your
own chamber-windows, and the fruit
vender is old Lise, who has been sitting
there all summer.”
The merchant, no doubt, appeared
ridiculous in the eyes of the artist for his
lack of artistic sight. Yet it is probable
that if a bundle of scraps of. cloth bad
been placed before him, his eyes would
have been keen to and *tect differences
which the artist could noi see.
Every object in the world is like a let
ter of the alphabet, and each man’s eye,
with differing insight and training, spells
out with these letters differing words.
Let us not lie too sure that onr own
word is always the highest or the best;
nor obt rude our method of spelling too
confidently on our neighbor.— Youth'*
Companion.
Guest (who had lioeri elegantly served
with almost nothing) --“Now, waiter,
that I have struggled through eleven
course* of cut-glaes, silver aud air, I be
gin to fee) hungry. Bring me some corned
beef and cabbage and a giant of plain I
every-day water.”- Tid-HUs.
BUDGET OF FUN.
HUMOROUS SKETCHES FROM
VARIOUS SOURCES.
An Awful Fate—Not Long to Wait—
W ha t. t he Pral ries I jack--Head
ing Bobby Off— He will
Stay, Etc., Etc.
We call for the mountains and rocks to fall
(HI us,
We fly to the desert in fear,
We shake with the terror of death hard upon
„ us ’
* e tremble when he comes anear.
Let the boreal storm-blast blow from the
north,
The deadly simoon from the south,
But save us, we pray, by night or by <Vay,
From the man with the cantering mouth,
IVith the fast and automaton mouth,
far no borrow or fright walks tho day or the
night,
Like the man with the cantering mouth.
Oh, scare us with ghosts and wild apparitions,
And goblins ana sprites of the nights
And demons of darkness who go on their mis
sions
Through regions devoid of the light.
Let the chili and the fever come down from
the north,
The malarial fog from the south,
But save us, we plead, from that rank social
weed,
The man with the cantering mouth,
The swift self-adjustable mouth.
For no mortal can fly from the withering eye
Of the man with the cantering mouth.
—S. W. Fossjn Tidrßits.
Not Long to Wait.
Gentleman (in restaurant) —“A couple
of soft-boiled eggs, waiter—not over four
minutes.” .
Waiter—“ Yes, sah.”
Gentleman—“And I’m in a big hurry.
How long will I have to wait?”
Waiter—“ How long did yo’ say yo’
wan’ dem aiggs biled, boss?”
Gentleman—“ Four minutes.”
Waiter—“ Half an hour, sah.”— Bazar.
What the Prairies Lack.
Omaha Father—“ Now, Bobby, I have
a little home all ready and am going back
East after your mother.”
Bobby (lately from the East) —“Well,
I’ll be a good boy while you’re gone.”
“You know I told you if you were a
real good boy I’d bring you a present of
your own selecting. Now what do you
want ma and I to get for you?”
“Bring me a big boxful of stones to
throw at cats.” —Omaha World.
Heading Bobby Off.
Bobby (to young Mr. Featherly, a
guest at dinner) —“Do you live on the
top floor of your boarding house, Mr.
Featherly?”
Mr. Featherly—“No, Bobby, second
floor front. Why!”
Bobby (indifferent) —“Oh, nothing,
only when Pa an’ Clara came home from
the theatre last night they were saying
something about light in the upper story,
an’ as they were talking about you, I
-VpCiMid--”
Father—“ Robert, will you have an
other piece of pie?"— -Meta Tort Bun.
_________ "V
He Will Stay.
“Your husband is in Wall street, I be
lieve?” she queried of the other woman.
“Ycs’m.”
“Very precarious business, I liave
heard.”
“Well, I dunno.”
“But if the market takes a bad turn he
is liable to lose his all.”
“Oh, hardly that. He gets sll per
week for running an elevator in a big
building, and I never even heard him say
there was a market there. I feel perfectly
safe, madam —unless the elevator cables
give out." —Wall Street New*.
A New Wrinkle.
A lather impecunious party met a
friend who was sporting anew suit of
clothes.
“Hello!” exclaimed the former, “where
did you get those new clothes 1”
“Hush, it’s a secret. I’ll tell it to you
if you’ll promise not to give it a^vay.”
“I’ll promise.”
“You know there is anew doctor in
town?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I sit iu his waiting-room two
hours every morning to make the public
believe that he has got a patient.”— Texa*
Sifting*.
Not Contagious.
Several evenings ago Major Stofah
went up to Sixteenth street to sec a
young lady to whom he has been very
attentive for some months. She was not
visible at first, and her twelve-year-old
brother entertained the major. After
various questions the kid remarked:
“You ain’t contagious, are you?”
“Why, Johnny, what do you mean by
that?” asked the major with an innocent
laugh of surprise.
“Oh, nothin’, I guess; only I heard
mother say you wasn’t, ’cause sister has
been tryin’ to catch you all winter, and
she couldn’t do it.”
The major remained the rest of the
evening, but hasn’t been back since.—
Washington Critic.
A Frigid Reception.
Just at twilight last evening a young
mau ou a Windsor ferryboat met a lady
acquaintance tripping onto the boat. He
walked aft with her and found her a seat,
remained a moment and then excused
himself to speak to a man whom he had
left in the bow. After he had finished
his chat he returned, plumped down in a
chair drawn closely to the one where he
left her, and turning in the half light to
the Imly at his side said, interrogatively:
“Well, Jennie, I suppose you have been
very lonely without me?”
“Sir!” said a voice, in freezing accents,
“I do not know you.”
And she didn’t. His friend, finding
it cold, had gone into the cabin. —Detroit
Free Press.
In Shakespeare’s Place.
The fame of Tabor’s opera house at
Denver is world-wide, and when Mr.
Tabor determined to build a theatre at
Leadville he announced that he would
have one built that would make his
former effort at Denver look like a
shed. He loudly asserted that he would
knock the earth out, especially ip the
decorations of the Leadville home of
Thespiss He sent to Italy for his decora
tor and did not go inside the Leadville
structure until the Italian sent him word
that lie would like his nninion, Mr. Tabor
went in company witli the artist, and
efter ■ sreful scrutiny expressed himself
as quite satisfied.
“But tell me," (juoth Mr. Tabor, “what
man arc yon making famous by putting
hi* portrait up there!"
“Why, that is a very true presentment
of Shakespeare,” replied the artist.
“Who is he?” asked the ex-miner.
“Why, the great dramatist, of course,
and not only the greatest playright but
the greatest bard as well.”
“Well, he may have been a mighty big
fellow, but I never heard that he did much
for Leadville. Just paint him out of tliat
and paint me in.” Ami Mr. Tabor's
portrait overlooks the auditorium.—ln
dianapolis Journal.
The Mohammedan's Honrs of Prayer
The Koran has fixed the hours that
must be consecrated to prayers. These
prayers, namaz, are five in number. The
most solemn is the morning prayer. -'4t if
the sabah namazi. It is uttered after the
dawn, just before the .rising of the sun.
The second is the midday prayer, euile
namazi. The third, jHndynamazi, must
be offered just before the setting of the
sun. The evening prayer, aaeham namazi,
is uttered just before the shadows conceal
the horizon. Finally, the last and fifth
prayer, yatry namazi, is uttered in the in
terval after sundown ami just before
dawn.
The hour of prayer is regularly pro
claimed to the faithful by the imams,
called muezzins, who walk around the bal
cony of the minarets, singing, in a melan
choly voice, this unvarying litany: “God,
the most high! I here proclaim that there
ia no God but God. 1 proclaim that Mo
hammed is the prophet of God. Come
to the temple of salvation. Great God!
God the most high! There is no God
but God!” Blind men areusuully select
ed for muezzins, or at least imams that
suffer from confirmed myopia, so that
they cannot throw inquisitive glances to
ward the women that may lie promenad
ing on the terraces of the houses.
Christians surround their observance
of prayer with a kind of mystery or of
reserve that the Mussulmans know abso
lutely nothing of. In whatever place a
devout Osmanli may find himself, wheth-.
or in his house, iu his shop, iu the
streets, in a public square, doing busi
ness, or on a visit, as soon ns the hour of
the vanuiz is announced, he makes his
religious preparations, places under his
knees a small rug, or in default of which
a handkerchief, turns his face toward
Mecca, places his arms iu the shape of a
cross upon his breast, or putting them to
his forehead, prostrates himself, then
rises—all this slowly and with strict ob
servance of rules. If he is iu a street, he
does uot permit himself to be distracted
and disconcerted by anything, not even
by the indiscreet curiosity of the Euro
pean, who looks at him astonished by
this novel sight, but who generally has
no desire to ridicule i(; for this worship
under the open sky, disregarding social
conventionalities, indifferent to whatever
may be said, has some ting grand and sa
cred about it, that banishes all raillery
and inspires respect.— 'Vosniopoliltjji.
A Bonanza Malden’s Fete.
Birdie Fair, tho only daughter of the
Senator and bonanza king, was 11 years
old last Wednesday, and in the evening
her mother, Mrs. Theresa Fair, gave a
fancy dress party at her residence on Pine
street in honor of the event, to which
about fifty of Birdie’s little friends were
invited. The guests enjoyed several
dances, and at 10 o’clock they marched
into the dining-room, where supper was
served. On the centre table was a repre
sentation of the ocean and a mermaid was
seen driving a team of four soft-shell
crabs through the waves. She was dressed
in green tulle decorated with chains of
shells and a silver pond lily was in her
long light hair. Tete-a-tete tables were
distributed around the room and each one
was adorned with lemons and oranges.
The porcelain cabinet was also decorated
with this fruit, and across the front was
a terracotta ribbon on which, in quaint
letters, was the inscription:
Oranges and lemons says the bells of St.
Clemens.
A chime of golden bells hung over the
ribbon, being irregularly arranged.
On the fftce of tne lower left hand cor
ner of the mantel mirror was a silver web,
and the strands spread out to the other
side and above, where there were branches
of fruit trees in blossom. Sitting on the
mantel was little Miss Muffit, whose plate
of curds and whey were lAit partially con
sumed owing to her fright when she. no
ticed the hungry look that the big black
spider in the web bestowed upon her.
When everyone was seated a major-domo
brought in an immense pie, which was
placed before Miss Birdie to cut. The
size of the pie caused her to demur a lit
tle at first, but she finally cut around the
edge of the top crust, which was then
lifted up and two dozen live canary birds
flew out of the centre and perched upon
the boughs, etc. —San Francisco Chronicle.
Stoves in Germany.
German stoves, says a correspondent of
the Charleston (S. C.) Neics, are of a
large, cumbrous size, resemble a furnace
in shape, but are anything else in reality.
One can never catch a glimpse of flame,
and from their nature, if heated in the
morning, begin drawing in theafternoon.
Their merit lies in the fact that they
preserve a room at a uniform tempera
ture, without allowing it to become hot.
The favorite attitude is to lean up against
them to ascertain whether they are
heated or not, as there is no possible
danger of scorching. The white color of
the porcelain is in striking contrast to the
dark iron cast of ours, and looking some
thing. like an old-fashioned cupboard,
a stranger never recognizes a stove in one
until tne fact is mentioned. In parts of
the Empire, particularly in the Rhine
district, the Americun stove is being
rapidly introduced, in spite of the fact
that the average critic declares our stove
—as most of our practices looking to
comfort—to be very unhealthy.
A Verse on Mr. Beecher’s Name.
“Sneaking of clover things,” once said
Mr. Beecher, “did you ever hear that
good poem written twenty years ago on
my name? Here, Ma |hc always called
Mrs. Beecher Ma], you read it to Perkins;
I’ve forgotten the words." Mrs. Beecher
smilingly put on her glasses, went to a
drawer, took out a bit of pH|>er, and laugh
ingly read:
“Halil a gnat fongregsUonsl preacher
To a lira: ‘You’re a beautiful ■-mature;’
The lien just for that
Labi tlirts- eggs in his Itat,
And thusdbl the lieu reward Bec-clier,"
on DOUAB rtr ‘ I> I, ||
THE HOUSE THAT LOVE BUILT.
Love built a house for his very own;
Not of spicy woods, not of brick and stone;
Not of polished marble, with all the rooms
Hung with fabric*from Eastern looms;
Nor of jewels held in dazzling man;
Nor of gold or silver, or gleaming brass,
With spl—idor like to a looking-glass,
Was the beautiful house that love built.
No, no indeed. But no palace fair
With this wonderful structure can compare.
Though you search from Jericho to Japan,
From Salamanca to Ispahan,
And travel many a weary mile,
You’ll And, in ancient or modern style,
No building so grand as the lofty pile—
The beautiful house that love built
Of what was it built? Of a sigh—a glance—
£*. iil'X ' - - the hand—a song—a dance,
A smile, or a whisper—who can tell?
As it evoked by a magic spell,
In dazzling splendor it rose and rose,
’Neath tropic sun, or mid Arctic snows,
And still in its radiant beauty grows
The wonderful house that love built
Tis a palace—a temple—a holy shrine—
Fashioned according to love’s design,
And set in the light of a cheerful sun—
Where two hearts enter and dwell as one.
And though, alas! on this earthly ball
Wreck and ruin must come to all,
There is no ruin so great as the fall
Of the beautiful house that love built
—Josephine Pollard, in Good Cheer.
PITH AM[POINT.
A swell affair—inflating a balloon.—
Sittings.
It's a wise child that resembles its rich
est relative.— Danville Breeze.
“My heart goes out to thee,” hummed
the gambler, as he passed the ace of that
suit under the table to his “pal.”— Tidr
Bits.
Lillie Cushman prints a poem entitled
“Unknown is Best.” But how does Lillio
know what is best, if it is unknown?—
Hartford Journal.
People who declare most loudly their
ability to puddle their own canoe are gen
erally tho people who haven’t got a canoe.
Somerville Journal.
It rends "New Maple Sugar.”
But then, it knows it lies,
For last year's date is plainly seen
Stamped oh by last year’s flies.
—Danville Breeze.
A Boston paper recently published a
communication on “The Model Wife,”
and 2,000 Boston husbands swore next
morning that they wrote it.— Albany
Argus.
“Sunday is the golden clasp which
hinds together the volume of the week.”
It is also a good time, and usually accept
ed as such, for a man to pull off nia
boots and try all the corn and bunion
remedies accumulated during the six pre
ceding clays.— Hartford Journal.
WORDS Ol* WISDOM.
11l sowers makcs.jll harvest.
The boughs that bear most hang lowest.
Life is half spent e’er we know what it
is.
lie who begius many things finishes
but few.
Mortifications arc often more painful
thuu real calamities.
Men’s years and their fruits are always
more than they are willing to own.
The silent man may be overlooked now,
but he will get a hearing by and by.
If wc do not flatter ourselves, the
flattery of others will not be able to injure
us.
When the forenoons of life are wasted
there is not much hope of a peaceful
evening.
Tim heart thut is fullest of good works
has in it tho least room for the tempta
tions*of the enemy.
Bad custom, consolidated into habit, is
such a tyrant that men sometimes cling
to vices, even while they curse them.
Vicious habits are so odious and de
grading that they transform the individual
who practises them into an incarnate
demon.
When two start in the world together,
he that is thrown behind, unless his mind
proves generous, will be displeased with
the other.
Life is never all work or sorrow; and
happy hours, helpful pleasures, are merci
fully given like wayside springs to
pilgrims trudging wearily along.
Beer Among the Ancientg.
A German professor has succeeded iu
tracing the origin of beer to the land of
’the pyramids. An ancient papyrus has
revealed the wrath of an Egyptian father
who had convicted his sou of the deplor
able habit of lounging about the Nile
taverns and guzzling beer. From Egypt
the art of manufacturing “liquid bread,”
as the professor affectionately describes
his favorite bcerage, was introduced into
Ethiopia and the heart of Africa, where
perpetual summer made it seasonable all
the year round. The Roman Empire de
clined because amoug other things, it
despised beer and was beguiled by
Stronger but less wholesome fluids. The
Northern races overran Italy, according
to the same authority, because they had
learned to live on bread and beer. En
thusiasm certainly carried the learned
professor a long way; and perhaps he has
not reached the end of his archaic re
searches. Is he certain that the Israelites
did not have beer with their manna; or
that there was not a fresh brew served
betimes in Eden?— New York Tribune.
Why a Sea Voyage Restores Health.
The air of the sea, taken at a great dis
tance from land, or even on the shore
and iu jiort when the wind blows from
the open, is in an almost perfect state of
purity. Near continents the laud winds
drive before them an atmosphere always
impure, but at one hundred kilometres
off from the coasts tills impurity has dis
appeared. The sea rapidly purifies tho
liestilential atmosphere of continents;
hence every expanse of water of a certain
breadth becomes an olietacle to the pro
pagation of epidemics. Marine atmo
spheres driven upon land purify sensibly
the air of the regions which they traverse;
this purification cun tie recognized us far
as I'nrie. Thu sea is the tomb of moulds
and of aerial w hizopbytes,— MM.
Moreau anti Miguel.
Unison and kindness are the great
promoter* of that harmony aud hilarity
which generate friendship and affection.
NO. 11.