Newspaper Page Text
i HE CARROLL COUNTY TIMES.
VOL. NiV.
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flit Imp: remedy for Diseases of the
Kidney* mid Elver.
it is inva uaiiit* for Diseases peculiar to
V,•'<*»»•.<•«, and all v ho lead sedentary lives.
ltd- e-. i;< -i, ethe u • 11,. eanse hearlacheiA
pro< .:»•••'> constipation < rJi tn ntetfiaincit as.
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i>or I-o m ■< . < vers. Lassitude, Lack or
Energy, &e., it lots no e< nal.
■To ' lhe genuine . as •. -eve lrr.de mark ai'd
creased ed lines on wrapper. r l nke no other
•«■••■>>o. »”o*t' < Hirn ai, co.. lui.Tiunnn,
CARES.'
W. '<;. * PAVSON,
' Xmw
- - - GA.
' - a,i b:i> : ,» Ss confided (,«
h ; .
! * •*' i • < c.i • ci' .' i ■; ■ the City Conr;
■ ''in !i-c .ere e-i;.i ■ s practice in other
5-ts.
■ A «
AT TORNEY - AT - LA W.
... AGENT.
' .".*• ni ;ot i on improved farm* in
' "•' llc , and Ji us.i-. n counties, nt
’ i■> i.i s examined -tud an«tracti< fi.t
I'.’ois 4.
'*• iii t'r- reurt bou-e,
•is'il Carrollton, (la.
J. VIZ. JONES;
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c h fl. (*. . . ■.; . liho-.ialiun ot
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Clio . .... .i.uties and
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I'ILLA AL A. _ . _ GLOHUIA
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Dr';;:' f . - . attention gir
on . > . - ■■ u. runted to him.
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C VGtOLLT -N, GA.
'■ : : .• • id •- .'3 various, eoni ts
’i 1,.’- : io’, .•■(libiiiing counties.
JS ir -■ i •> .. -i n .riven to suits for
h. . , ;ie f.gainst terminated
ho.i: ' eshuts, the adminis
tration oi c.~tates, cd<*.
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<■ UiOLLTQN, - - GA.
i ? -,■<■.• . .. :■ i line;? examined. "’ill
v > ..(• • ._r-->r sniHil. Especial ar
te- / .• > business of managing
< J -v:s, A-imintetratois, ar-
c -business before the Or-
V,i ;■ • t - in ail the superioi
ci. .1) v. a ciicuiti and always at-
ie, i •(i ,<>n < H-rt. U’i'.i practice any
v;: io j.-.u ,|; : \ ciiui'lw -• re clients may
*4 e (.mjc sm vices:
.... .'. KNOTT
i- > e-mab tiiiy located in Car
roll;. - j- at!-! ‘c’dei’S his
PROFESSIONAL SERVICES
h* -i • citizens of Carrollton ana
'irinif v
Chile , .Joitnsi't/s Drugstore.
ivCfiGence, be.oi-i’o v street. 1— if.
JE> v. 13 ■> K KTT
-fill *1 LcA xiXO bl’itOEOX
TKMP Id, G-A.
I \ y . c.i at Temple I otter
> . -a i ■ - i/y lie cit’Z'- i- oi Car-
uitentipn <■
• • . " • , ; r ..- . -.‘Tice at
C; .u, ■ • o .. t-ui.- prompriV a.--
sveie -•„ . _ . . v.i - answered
iroin iJ. ,i.v . ce. ly,
DO KxOW
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• m id
HER UNCLE’S PET.
A Practical Girl’s Good Fortune.
Old Mr. Brown stood in his pri
vate office, with his back to the lire
and his coat-tails balanced in eith
er hand. He was a bald-headed
old gentleman with a ruddy com
plexion, keen black eyes, and leg.of
iniitton whickers which were white
as snow. And Miss Nelly Tor*
rmco sat looking at him timidly
from the depths of the big arm
chair in which ho had beckoned
her to seat lieiself.
“So you are my cousin Adrian’s
! daughter?” said he after a long
! pause.
i ‘Yes,” said Nelly, wondering
i what was in ali those mysterious
tin boxes, and whether the monster
iron safe was full of gold and sil
t ver pieces.
“And you want something to
do?”
“Yes, please!”
“Humph!” said Mr. Brown.
Nelly glanced shyly up into his
face. But she added with some
spirit, “I am not asking for charitv.
I am willing to work for my
bread.”
“lou mean that you would like
to daub canvas or sew impossible
yellow sundowers on green plush
screens,” satiric ally observed the
old gentleman. “I don’t call that
work!”
“Nor I, either,” retorted’ Nel
’y*
“Then what do you mean?” said
?vlr. Brown.
“I mean that I shall be glad to
undertake any sort of honest work
by means of which I can earn mv
own living.”
! “Humph!” again interjected Mr.
1 Brown. ‘Can you cook?”
“Yes/' Nell answered.
“1 don’t believe it!”
i “But I can.”
“Very well,” said Mi. Brown,
releasing his coat tails and sitting
down at his desk as if the question
were definitely disposed of. “My
cook went away this morning. I
haven’t engaged any one in her
place. Yon may come this after
noon and see what'you can do for
me.”
Mr. Brow .’.fully expected that
his youngjcousin would recoil, in
dignantly from this proposal, but
she did nothing of the sort. She
1 simply said: “Yes cousin John,”
i and asked him foi his. private ad
i dress.
“Mind you’re punctual, my
dear,” saiu he as he handed her lhe
i pencilled card.
“I am always punctual,’ calm
j ly responded Nelly.
Mr. Brown watched her out of
the office with a quizzical twinkle
in the corner of his eyes.
“She won’t come,” he said to
himself. “I’ve seen the last of
my fine relation.”
And Nelly Torrance went home
td a little second floor room, the
cheapest which the widow and her
■ daughters could possibly find.
Mrs. Adrian Torrance was dress*-
ed in black, a fair delicate piece of
i human china, who had been like
the lillies f the field, in that she
toiled not, neither did she spin, and
i Lucetta, the elder daughter, was
trying, unsuccessfully enough, to
I trim a black crape bonnet by the
window.
‘ They had come up from the
! country at Lucetta’s suggestion to
appeal, in their poverty, to this
! rich cousin of the dead father and
' husband, but none of them antici
i pated any ' ery satisfactory
from the experiment.
“These ich people are always
miserly,” said Miss Lucetta.
“And I’ve understood,” sighed
the gentle little widow,“that he was
not pleased when poor dear Adrian
married me instead of Miss Crold
bags, the rich pawnbroker's daugh
ter.'
“Well? cried Mrs. Torrance,
ns Nelly entered.
•AVhat does he say?” question
ed Lucetta, dropping the fold of
crape which he was vainly en
deavoring to fashion into what
the fashion-plate called “an ob-
■ long bow.”
CARROLLTON. GEORGIA, FRIDAY MORNING, NOVEMBER 27, 1885.
‘•I have seen him,” said Nelly,
untying her bonnet-strings. “And
I’m going to his house in Grand
over Park this afternoon.”
“You don’t mean,” cried Mrs.
Torrance, with a spasmodic <:atch
ing her breath, “that he is going
to—adopt you?*’
“Not in the least,” said Nel
ly. “Now, mamma darling, don’t
jump at conclusions. .lust hear
mj plain, unvarnished tale. 1
went to Cousin John. I told
him I wanted something to do.—
He asked me if I could cook.—
Thanks to that course of lessons
I once took of ISignor Silver
spoon, I was able to answer yes.
Then he told me that his cook
was gone, and, and asked me if
I would come to his house this
afternoon and take her place.”
“Anu you?” gasped Mrs. Tor
rance.
“I said yes—-of course.”
“Eleanor!’’ cried Lucetta, “I
am scandalised by your conduct !
\ es, perfectly scandalised! You
will do nothing of the sort!”
“Certainly not,” said Mrs. Tor
rance. developing strong hysterical
syrnptons. “If your cousin Brown
intends to insult ns ”
“But he doesn’t mean to insult,
us, pleaded Nelly. “He inten
ded the offer in .all good faith,
and I accepted it in the same
spirit.”
“You surely do not mean to
degrade yourself,” cried Lucetta,
“by turning—cook—for any man
living.
“I don’t see,’’ argued Nelly,
I “that it is any more degrading to
cook for Cousin John than it
1 would be to embroider slippers
for him, or read the newspaper
aloud to him of an evening.”
“Eleanoi never Ind any proper
pride,’ said Mrs. Torrance, wring
ing her hands.
“Never!’ echoed Lucetta.
“And,'’ added Nelly, “my cous
in would have every right to be
lieve me an impostor if I had
told him I wanted work, and
then refused the first offer he
made. It will be useless for you
to r emonstrate, Lucetta and I hope
mamma will not place any obstacles
in my way. For lam quite deter •
mined to go to Grandover Park
this afternoon.”
And she adhered firmly to her
resolution.
It was six exactly when Mr.
Brown let himself into his house
with the latch key, which aways
depended from his watch-chain.
The gas-jet burned softly behind
the rose-colored shade in the hall,
the fire clicked cheerfully in the
grate of the parlor beyond, a most
inviting apartment.
“Humph!” he muttered. “She
hasn't come. Thought so! There's
no such thing as a practical woman
now-a-days. ”
At the same moment a light,
white-aproned little figure came
out of the dining-room beyond, and
Nelly Torrance's voice uttered the
words:
“Dinner is ready, Cousin John.”
The old man smiled. He had a
it -
pleasant expression of the face
when he smiled, and Nelly wor
dcred that she had not before no
ticed what a handsome man he
Z'
was. x
“Oh,” said he, “you did come
then.’’
“Oh, I always keep mv engage
ments,” said Nelly. “Punctuality
is the soul of business, isn't it.—
Cousin John? At least, that’s
what I used to write in my copy
books at school.”
Mr. Brown patted her hand as
she helped him off with his over
coat.
“You are a good girl,"’ said he.
And in his secret mind he deci
ded to put up with any deficiencies
in the cooking of a girl who had
such excellent business principles.
But, to his infinite amazement,
there were no deficiences to over
look! The soup was on the table,
clear as water,flavored like a dream
of Soyer's own!
The first course was baked trout,
swimming in wine sauce, the sec
ond a pigeon on toast. A small/
and compact rcast of beef-ribs was
flanked by a dainty giblet pic, and
the dessert’was fruit, peach tarts,
and Bavarian cream!
Mr. Brown ate, and reh-hed, and
wondered by turns.
“My dear,” said he at last,
when the cloth was re
moved and the wine and walnuts
brought on, “all is very nice. I'll
concede that you are a tip top
housekeeper. But of course, you
ordered all this from MoueratiA
restaurant?”
“But of course I didn't, Cousin
Brown,” sAid Nelly decidedly. “I
cooked it all inyself!”
“What, th a? soup?”
“Yes, that soup.”
“Did you prepare that trout
sauce, and broil that pigeon?”
“Yes, Cousin Brown.”
“And the giblet pie? Was that
yours?”
“Yes, and the giblet-pie! Don’t
look so astonished, Cousin Biown,”
she added laughing. “1 may as
well confess that I took a course
of cooking lessons last eummer.—
And I like it of all things, espec
ially in a household pike this, where
one can command the very best ma
terials.”
Mr. Brown closed his eyes and
made a hasty calculation. His
life had been “worried out of him,”
to use a mediocre expression, by
capricious housekeepers, inefficient
cooks, and untrained servants—
At last, was a gate-way out of all
his tribulations!
“My dear,” he said, “1 should
like to have you come here and
live.”
“As cook, Cousin Brown?”
“No—as my adopted daughter
and housekeeper. I need someone
to take the helm of my affairs. By
Jupiter!” he added as he recollec
ted the flavor of the giblet-pie. “I
haven’t eaten such a dinner in
ten years.”
“But my mother,” hesitated
Eleanor, “and my sister Lucetta.”
“Let them come, too,” said Mr.
Brown. “Bless your heart, my
dear, there's plenty of room in the
house. Can they cook too?”
“No, Cousin Brown,” confessed
Nelly.
“Well, perhaps it’s just as well,”
said Mr. Brown. “There can’t be
more than one head to a household.
I hope you have preserved the re
cipe of that giblet-pie, my dear. It
was really something extraordina
ry-
So the Torrance family found a
a comfortable refuge for the soles
of their feet, and Nelly’s despised
accomplishment proved the sword
wherewith she opened the world’s
oyster.
And Lucetta sighed and won-'
dered why she, too, had not taken
cooking lessons.
“Nelly is the old man’s first fa
vorite,” said she. “He’ll leave her
all his money when be dies. And
all because she accepted his
ridiculous offer of turning cook for
a living.”
Mr. Brown, however, looked at
this matter in a different light.
“Nelly is a trump,’’ be said.—
“Nelly is not like the typical
young lady, who is too lazy to
work, and too proud to beg. She
is one who ennobles t the humblest
task, and does, with ail her might,
whatever her hands find to do.”
So the old proverb came true:
“Heaven helps those who help
themselvs.”
Further than this our little sto
ry cannot go at present, but good
natured gossip does say that ere
long Nelly wi J be more than house
keeper to Mr. Brown.
THE CUSTER MASSACRE.
A Modoc Indian. Participant’s ac
count of the Fight.
From the Chicago Journal.
A gentleman of Kenosha, Wis.,
formany years connected with the
United States i rmy, and more re
cently (in the fall of 18S4-) engaged
in trapping and shooting near Cot
tonwood creek, Northern Wyom
ing, found an opportunity to in
terview one of lhe Indians who
participated in the terrible fight in
which Gen. Custer and his brave j
companions perished. the inter
view took place, through an inter
preter. in a Sioux tepee, and was a
few days ago reporti d in a Kenosha
newspaper.
The information received from
the Modoc warrior was ifreelv giv
en, and bore the semblance of
truth. In substance, he said.
“Sitting Bull was not their chief
when Gen- Crook struck their trail
and chased their across the Rose
bud river, but Rain-in-the-Faee, a
warm friend of Sitting Bull, was
in command. After crossing the
Rosebud a council of chiefs was
held to decide whether they would
fight Gen. Crook or run to the Big
Horn mountains and make a stand.
Some of the warriors wanted to
fight at once, and while the council
was m session a Sioux scout
brought in word that Gen. Custer
was advancing into the Big Horn
country. This intelligence natur
ally created an excitement. Raia
in-the-Facc made a ; great speech,
telling the chiefs that they were
between their white enemies, Crook
and Custer, and eloquently urging
them to march across the country
as Vapidly as possible, kill Custer,
and then turn upon Crook.
“after this ‘big talk' the Sioux
warriors were ready to go any
where with Rain-in-the-Face.—
who told them that “Crook was a
walk-a-heap and a very bad man.’
“If the above statement is true,”
adds the correspondent, “it is evi
dent that Rain-m-the-Eace, al
though an unlettered savage and
scarcely knowing the difference
between a parapet and a Gatling
gun, had grasped the situation, and
with the intuition of millitary gen
ius had determined to destroy his
foes in detail, and that he went to
his task with lhe cunning of a wolf
and the ferocity of a tiger. The
necessary delays of Crook, the rap
id advance of Custer into the val
ley, m. I the division of his coin
! maud ... most wi hin sight of the
battle grou A aided the Indians’
design, and w„en the blow came it
was crushing.”
The warrior further stated, in
answer to questions, that in the
fight with Custer’s force a party
of about tweb-e soldiers shot their
own horses and fought behind them
in a “bunch,” that Gen. Custer
was one of that party, ana that
they all fought like great soldiers
and would not give up the strug
gle-
in ueply to the query whether
Gen. Custer was the last white
soldier killed, the warrior said that
the smoke of the contest was so
dense when the Indians rode rapN
dly around the “bunch” and finish"
ed their bloody work they could
not see whether Custer was killed
or not. When asked how many
Indians were killed in the fight the
warrior declined to answer. The
interpreter said, in reference to
this, that although he had been
with the Sioux several years he
could get no definite idea of the
number of warriors killed in the
Custer battle; that ihe Indians are
superstitious and do not like to
speak about their dead, but he
thought their loss was small, as
the Indians “had the drop," and
the fight lasted only twenty min
utes.
The correspondent, referring to
the censure which was passed upon
Maj. Reno for his part in the un
fortunate affair, defends the course
of that officer, and says: “That
Maj. Reno saved any of his men,
environed as he was by a horde of
savages flushed by victory and
eager for revenge, shnld redound
to his credit.” Thus far the cor
respondence.
At this late day no one will wish
to disparage the valor, the judg
ment, and the military skill of the
lamented ( uster, That he should
fall into a fatal ambush is a mis
take that no officer with less brav
ery would be likely to make; but
Custer was daring and impulsive.—
It is said that Reynolds, his scout,
told him to “go slow,” that the
valley was full ot Indians and that
they were in the bush. The oppor
tunity for a fight overruled ail
other considerations, and the brave
soldier rode gallantly to his death.
i WHAT THE FOSTAGE-STAMI
SAW.
There had long been ?i > va n
; between the Postage-stamp am!
Post mark. The Head of M’ush-
I ington, widely adorned .the form r,
with its long queue and aristocratic
pose, naturallyj rided fisvlf on it.-
beauty, and this, strange a? i m, v
appear, was the bone cf ceiitei.!- ■;
between them. The Post-n rl.
was not even passably good-look . g.
It was inky, black and blmred.—
But that was nothing unuti.a’—
who ever >aw a Post-niark that was
not? And, ia taking i n inventory
of its characteristics, it passed di
rectly over, its manifest use, and
fixed upon its beauty as the one
thing it had in life to vent its price
upon, so given arc even Bost-marks
to imitate the failings of the human
race. One day, when the owner
of the envelope was out—he was
a busy young physician, and was
out of his office oftener than he wa.-
in it—the Post-mark observed,
spitefully, to tiie Stamp:
“So you are on crooked again as
usual.”
“What s that to you? ' returned
the Stamp, with quiet dignity.
“Oh, the Postmaster often
speaks of you,” retorted the Post
mark, skillfully evading the ques
tion.
“Ohl 'And what does he say,
pray?”
“He says you are the bane of
his existance. You are always
making trouble somewhere. Why,
selling you is the chief annoyance
of his life. U hen he is the busiest,
woman—garrulous, inquisitive wo
men—always black traffic for half
an hour or more to inquire about
how many of you are needed to
carry a letter; and then they give
him a ten-doliar bill to buy one of
you, and count the change, while
the business-men who are hack of
her use bad language, and rush
away to their office to write peti
tions to the President asking to
iiave a new Postmaster appointed.
Oh, he knows vou.”
“AV ell, ’ replied the Stamp, wh n
the Postmark stopped for breath:
“What of it?”
“What in ( e?d! returned tee Post
mark, stung by its want of interest:
“That is not half what he says.
lou are of such little consequence
that men who have any thing worth
doing in the world often forget to
put you on a letter at ali, and that
causes the department endless
trouble. Aou don't amount to any
thing. They generally put yon on
crooked, and crowd the envelope
so that the address is partially cov
ered; or else there is no room to
put me on; and I must be put on, or
the letter wouldn’t go. Take your
own case you are most shamefully
awry, and I think the blood would
rush to your head if you had any
in your thm obi body to rush
there.”
To all this Stamp made no.reply. |
It appeared to be thinking. Final
ly it observed, as if talking to it
self.
“les, lam on crooked. That's
a fact. But she couldn’t help it.”
“\V ho was that you spoke of'”
interrupted the Post-mark, which
was not without its share of curios
ity.
“I didn't think I mentioned any
name,” replied the Stamp, with a
glance of rebuke at its inquisitive
neighbor- “She carried me in her
pocket-book for months. That
was before you were born. At
that time you were a little blotch
of sticky ink and a lump of brass
with some figures cut in your head
She carried me next to her letter,
and read it, too—every line of it
I couldn’t help it,” continued the
Stamp, half apologetically: “I was
inside the envelope with the writ
ing, where she put me, and 1 had
nothing else to do.”
“I don't believe you were put in
there at all," interrupted the Boat
mark, maliciously; “I believe you
crawled in there and intruded
yourself on the 1 letter.”
“If you were not an ’ignorant
little Post mark—if you had ever
read the history of your own conn-
I trv,”nu>itui the Heal of Wash-
Hi, s verely, but not uaji
J “yon v, on'■ no : -ike such foolish
-»y.
I read tho lott* r. It was from at
h r father's house in the country,
and she ?t her In art to him.—
W’ic i . .t auav, he left a
j v. cancy m t! .1 lu-nschold that will
I n ver ■fl .c Tu y corrospond
' e and all tin Stamps she had
were U k d up, excepting myself.—
Iw :s the last. The other day she
git this Ict'Or from him.”
“I d »:f: /jevey- n.” interruped
th 1' -■ ’ v ; “Yon are
making ‘hi- - ■ ry up to magnify
your • >wu importance. I should
ask yv.i iu me ( fi’ if run
wcrenh st kon . o tight.’'
‘‘O 1 replied tile Stamp, pay-
■ this gncalled
for nbu<. . “So that i what von
would do if you wire in my place?”
“N •, it n't,” retorted the Post
mark mdiy, ‘you old slob of muci
lage. ; -u oh] chr aa o you! If your
1 story hadn't ua ’c me so tired I
w ntd t r vou off and lick you
again.”
“As i v,- ; u about to ■ v." contin
ued iheStnap calmly, while the
Post-mm k bit its tongue until it
ached, “this htt r was from the
doctor, and told L rho was about
to m • v anothe • giil. When she
read it d.o turned very white, and
I thought si! > would drop the letter;
j but she di ;u‘t. She simply kissed
the dric 1 ink -m rks where he had
sign d his n .m , and hot tears fell
on the paper. Ti. m she sat down
a . w :■ him-—! mw.lhe letter;
I was lying * n the table by her
side—titat > e would like to sec
the woman he was to many; the
hoped h was goo j and beautiful,
and she pray id he would be hap
pier than i j v t drea nod of being:
ano w e;i she s al cd the letter and
took mo in her hand, I was afraid
I wovddn,t get on the cnveloj eat
all. She e* uldn’t sec through her
tears. That s the reason lam on
cro kd. Do you wonder whv,
now?”
But the Post-mark didn't reply.
Perhaps it h 1 gone to sleep, and
perhaps it didn’t want to expose
whatever emotion it might feel.—
At any rate, when the doctor re
turned, a few minutes later, and
picked up his envelope, ho happen
ed to touch the postmark*
“Ab! 1 be exclaimed: “the gov
ernment is getting too economical.
The ink on this post—mark is very
wet. It is too cheap for use. •
must complain to the postmaster
about it.”—| Puyk-
Fatal Autograph.
In the ye ir 18811 Henry Ward
Beecher made a trip to the Pacific
co: st, inc’mui ; Oregon, on a lee*
turii g tour, and, of course, great
wa t e curio ity to see and hear
the noted divine. On Air. Beech
ci'- arrival nt the Dalles there
were thousands crowding to the
train to see, speak, or shake hands
with the di'tinguised guest, who
w ; introduced to Major Handley
and Col. Sinnot, both natives of
the “Emerald Isle.” In honor of
the Beecher party they set up a
smnptnoii dinner, which the travs
elers heartily appreciated. Alter
dinner Brother Beecher (by re
quest) placed his autograph at the
top of the page of the big hotel
register z ih a fearless hand, and
great was the curiosity of the com
munity to see the signature of the
noted speaker, in so much that it
was carefully guarded by Messrs.
Handley and Sinnot, but to their
great grief one morning the name
of Brother Beecher had disappear
ed ‘from the Msr hotel register.—
They iinmc liately offered a reward
of S2O for the recovery of his sig
nature, but in vain; no one respond
ded. Stopping at this hotel at the
time was a barber by the name of
Steinmetz, a man of good and so
ber habits, who was noticed to be
on a big soree (after the reward
was offered;)- and all Ms friends
could say or do to restrain him
was in vain. One night soon af
ter the porter heard a heavy fall
above, and fluw up to Steinmetz’s
room, and, horrified, saw the poor
in«u dea 1 upon the floor. An in
quest was called, and lo ! the lost
signature of Brother Beecher was
found in his pocket. The jury
brought in a verdict: “Died from
overdrinking, which was caused by
remorse cn account of stealing
Beecher’s signature.”
NO. 48.