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EASTMAN TIMES.
A Real Live Country Paper.
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING
-BY-
R. S. BURT ON.
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One copy, one year $2.00
Ono copy, nix months 1 (X)
Ten copies, in clubs, one year, each 1.50
Single copies
THE VOICELESS.
lIY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.
We count the broken lyres that rent
Where Hip Rweet-wailing (-ingera slumlwr'
But o’er their meet sister'sbreast
Tbe wild flowers who will stoop to linimber ?
A few call touch the magic string,
And noisy fame is proud to win them ;
Alan for those that never sing,
lint die with all tbcir music in them!
Nay, grieve not for the dead alone,
\Vhoao song has told tin ir heart’s sad story ;
v. i-cp for the voiceless, who have known
The cross hut not the crown of glory !
N' t wh'-re le-ucadiau breezes sweep
O'er Sipptio’s memory-haunted billow,
Hut where the glistening night-dews weep
On nameless sorrow’s church-yard pillow,
Oh, hearts that break and give no sign,
Save withering lips and fading tresses,
Till Death pours out bis cordial wine,
Slow-dropped from Misery’s crushing presses:
If singing breath or echoing chord
To every hidden pang were given,
What endless melodies were poured,
As sad as earth, as sweet as Heaven !
ARMSTRONG.
In the early days of California—the
>ldeu days of gold, or tho golden days
of old, as you please—in a certain
miner’s camp on the Yuba river, there
lived a queer genius named Armstrong.
Ho was an honest miner, not differiug
materially from his fellows, excepting
that lie had a carious habit of talking
to himself. For tho simple reason that
lie departed from common custom in
this one particular, he was, of course,
voted crazy by the other miners. To
all persons “crazy” who do not
follow the customs of the majority is a
constant habit with men. But, day
alter day, Armstrong worked away with
his pick and shovel, caring nothing for
tho remarks of his neighbors, and seem
ing to wish for no other partner in his
toils or his rest, save the invisible per
sonage whom he always addressed in
the second person singular, and with
whom he was almost constantly in close
and earnest conversation. Tne common
drift of his talk, while at work, would
he as follows :
“ Rather tough work, Armstrong
rich dirt, though—grub a dollar a pound
—no time to waste—pitch in, sir—
hanged if 1 don’t wish I was in the
states. This mining’s mighty hard
work. Nonsense, Armstrong ; what a
fool you arc to be talking in that way,
with three ounces a day right under
your feet, and nothing to do but just to
dig it out.”
His conversation would be duly punc
tuated with strokes of tho pick and lifts
of the loaded shovel. And t o the days
would pass along, and Armstrong work
ed and slept, and talked with his invisi
ble partner. Well, it happened, in due
•course of time, that the class of human
vampires, commonly called gamblers,
made their appearance at the camp
where Armstrong worked. As he was
not above following tho example of his
fellows, he paid the new comers a visit,
it is the same old story. After watch
ing the game awhile, lie concluded it
was the simplest thing in tho world.
■So he tried his luck, and won—sloo !
Now, any experience would always set
\rmstrong to thinking and talking to
himself worse than ever. It was so
this time. “Now, Armstrong,” he said,
as ho hesitated about going to his work
next morning, “that is the easiest
hundred dollars you ever made in your
life. What’s tho use of your going
into a hole in the ground to dig for
throe ounces a day? The fact is,
Armstrong, you are sharp. You were
not made for this kind of work. Sup
pose you just throw away your pick and
shovel, leave the mines, buy a suit of
store-clothes and dress up like a born
gentleman, and go at some business
that suits your talent.”
Armstrong was not long in putting
these thongnts and sayings into action.
Il<‘ loft tho diggings ami invested in fine
clothes. Ho looked like another man,
but ho was still the same Armstrong,
nevertheless. He was not long in find
ing an opportunity to try anew profes
sion. Walking forth in his fresli outfit,
he had just concluded a long talk with
himself about his bright prospects,
when he had halted iu front of a large
tent with a sign on it, “ Miners’ Rest.”
Armstrong went in. It did not seem to
him that he remained very long, but it
was long enough to work a wonderful
revolution iu his feelings. When he
came out he was a changed man—that
is to f-ay, ho was a “ changeless ” raau.
He was thunder-struck, amazed, be
wildered. lie had lost his money, lost his
uew prospect, lost his sol f-conceit—lost
everything, but his new clothes and his
<fid habit of talking to himself. It is
useless to say that he was mad. Arm
strong was very mad. But there was
no one to be mad at but Armstrong him
self, so self number two was in for a
rough lecture :
“ Now, Armstrong, you aro a nice
specimen —you fool—you bilk—you
dead-beat—you inf—” Well, I nerd
r°! r< ! r The hard things he said.
Hike King Richard, he “found within
Himself no pity for himself.”
But mere words were not sufficient.
H was a time for action. But Arm
strong never once thought of shooting,
drowning, hanging, or any other form
of suicide. He was altogether too orig
in'll as well as too sensible for that,
let lie was resolved upon something
rea l au d practical iu the way of reforma
tory punishment. He felt, the need of a
If-impose 1 decree of binkiuptcy that
should render the present failure as
com leto as possible, aud prevent a
suuuar course in the future.
* ,r °kon firm of “ Armstrong &
1 went forth in meditation long and
lUv P- Some of his thoughts were al
too deep for utterance. But finally
■c stood by the dusty road along which
great, freighting wagons were h tul
supplies to the mining camps up
, 10 Sacramento. One of these wagons,
urawn by six yoke of oxen, was just
passing. Snap, snap, snap, in slow, ir
cgnlar succession, came the keen,
' mging reports of the long Missouri
ox-whip. “ G’lang j g ’] a ng ? wo-haw !”
1 juted the tall, dust-begrimed driver,
I 10 ®wung his whip and cast a side
• B' u uce at the broken firm, wonder
y what in thunder all them store
( o-nes was a-doin’ thar.” Now, when
• rmstrong saw the long column of
y ® 'Just rising behind that wagon he
i. y, ’ !tli _ e u with an idea. So he shouted
ii 10 driver, to know if he might be
1 "■■led to walk iu the road behind the
wagon.
and ride,” said the driver.
sa, bl Armstrong I wish to
I hen walk, you crazy fool,” was the
kb, mn ?. response, as the driver
fcWl mg his whip.
Two Dollars Per Annum,
VOLUME 11.
Then came the tug of war. Greek
never met Greek more fiercely than did
the two contending spirits composing
the firm of Armstrong & Self, at that
particular moment. “Now, Armstrong,”
said the imperious head of the firm,
“ yon get right into the middle of that
roal, sir, aud walk in that dust, behind
that wagon, all the way to the Packers’
Roost, on the Yuba river.” “What,
with these clothes on?” “Yes, with
those clothes on.” “ Why, it is fifteen
miles and dusty all the wav.” “ No mat
tei, sir; take the road. You squander
you money at three-card monte ; I’ll
teach you a lesson.”
“ G’lang ! g’lang !” drawled the dri
ver, as he looked over his shoulder with
a curious mingliug of pity, contempt
and wonder on his dusty face. More
and more spitefully snapped the swing
ing whip as the slow-paced oxen toiled
mile after mile under the heat of a Sep
tember sun. And there, in the road,
trudged Armstrong behind the wagon—
slowly, wearily, thoughtfully, but not
silently. He was a man who always
spoke his thoughts.
“ This serves you right, Armstrong.
Any man who will fool his money away
at three-card monte deserves to walk in
the dust.” “It will spoil these clothes.”
“Well, don’t you deserve it?” “The
dust fills my eyes.” “Yes, any man
who gambles all his * dust ’ away at
three-card monte deserves to have dust
in his eyes—and alkali dust at that.”
“ The dust chokes me.” “All right;
any man who will buck at monte de
serves to be choked. Keep the road,
sir—the middle of the road—close up to
the wagon. Ho you think you will ever
buck at monte again, Armstrong ?”
And so the poor culprit, self-arrested,
self-condemued, coughed, and sneezed,
and choked, and walked, and talked,
mile after mile, hour after hour ; while
the great wagon groaned and creaked,
the driver bawled and swung his whip,
the patient oxen gave their shoulders to
the yoke, and the golden sun of Sep
tember sunk wearily toward the west.
The shadows of evening were begin
ning to fall when the wagon halted at
the place called Packers’ Roost, on the
Yuba.
“ Here we rest,” sighed Armstrong,
just above his breath, as he looked at
the stream. “No, you don’t,” answered
the head of the firm. “ You buck your
money away at monte, and talk about
resting! Now, Armstrong, go right
down the bank, sir, into that river.”
As the command was peremptory, and
a spirit of obedience was thought the
safest, Armstrong obeyed without par
ley ; and down lie went, over head and
ears, store-clothes and all, into the cold
mountain stream. It was a long time
that he remained in the water, and un
der the water. He would come to tlie
surface every litfc'e while to talk, you
understand. It was impossible for
Armstrong to forbear talking. “O,
yes,” he would say, a3 be came up and
snuffed the water from his nose, “you’ll
buck your money away at thro 9-card
monte, will you? How do you like
water-cure?” His words were, of
course, duly punctuated by irregular
pluagings and catching of the breath.
It sj happened that the man who
keot the shanty hotel at. the Packers’
Roost, had a woman for a wife. She, be
ing a kind-hearted creature, besought
her lord to go down and “ help the
poor crazy man out of the water.”
“Pshaw!” said the ox-driver, “lie
ain’t a crazy man ; lie’s a fool. He
walked behind my wagon and talked to
himself all the way from Scrabble
town.”
Thereupon rose a lengthy discussion
about the difference between a crazy
man and a fool. But, after awhile, the
landlord and the ox-driver went down
to the bank and agreed to go Arm
strong’s security against bucking at
monte in the future, if he would come
out of the water. So he came out and
went up to house
“ Will you have a cup of tea or cof
fee ?” said the woman kindly.
“Yes, madam,” said Armstrong, “I
will take both,”
“ne is crazy, sure as can be,” said
the woman. But she brought tho two
caps as ordered. “Milk and sugar?’’
she inqubed kindly, as before.
“ No, madam, mustard and red pep
per,” answered Armstrong.
“ I do believe ho is a fool,” said the
woman, as she went for tlie pepper and
mustard.
Armstrong, with deliberate coolness,
put a spoonful of red pepper into the
tea and a spoonful of mustard into the
coffee. Then he poured the two to
gether into a large tin cup. Then the
old conflict raged again, and, high above
the din of rattling tin cups and pewter
spoons, sounded the stern command,
“Armstrong, drink it, sir—drink it
down.” A momentary hesitation and a
few desperate gulps, and it was ijowu.
“ Oh, yes,” said our hero, as his throat
burned aud the tears ran from his eyes,
“you buck your money away at tliree
card monte, do you ?”
Now, the Thomsonian dose above de
scribed very nearly ended the battle
with poor Armstrong. He was silent
for quite a time, and everybody else
was silent. After a while the landlord
ventured to suggest that a bed could be
provided if it was desired. “ No,” said
Armstrong, “I’ll sleeo on the floor.
You see, stranger,” said he, eyeing the
landlord with a peculiar expression,
“ this fool lias been squandering gold
dust at monte—tliree-card monte—and
does not deserve to sleep in a bed.”
So Armstrong ended the day’s battle
by going to bed on the floor. Then
came the dreams. He first dreamed
that he was sleeping with his feet on
the North Pole and his head in the
tropics, while all tne miners of Yuba
were ground sluicing in his stomach.
Next he dreamed that he had swallow
ed Mount Shasta for supper, and that
the old mountain had suddenly become
an active volcano, aud was vomiting
acres and acres of hot lava.
Then the scenes shifted, and he
seemed to have found his final abode in
•i place of vile smells and fierce flames,
poetically called the antipodes ot heav-
L And while he writhed and groaned
in sleepless agony, a fork-tailed fiend,
With his thumb at his nose, was saying
to him iu a mocking voice>: You
buck vour money away at three-can
£ as:
EASTMAN, DODGE CO., GEORGIA, THURSDAY, JULY 2, 1874.
been there before. So he said: “I think
vou have learned a lesson, Armstrong.
You can go back to your miuing now
sir, and leave monte alone.” Time
showed that he was right. His lesson
was well learned. The miners looked
a little curious when he reappeared at
the camp, aud still called him crazy.
Bat he had learned a lesson manv of
them never learned, poor fellows. They
continued their old ways, making money
fast and spending it foolishly—even
giving it to monte dealers. But the
Armstrong firm was never broken in
that way but once. Alter that, when
ever he saw one of the peculiar signs,
“Robbers’ Roost,” “Fleecer’s Hen,”
or “Fool’s Last Chance,” Armstrong
would shake his head with a knowing
air, and say to himself as he passed
along: “Oh, yes, Armstrong, you’ve
been there ; you know all about that;
yon don’t buck your money away aT
three cird monte—not muc \
At the Vatican.
A correspondent from Rome describes
a visit to the "V atican : “ Tho gorgeous
Swiss Guards, who look like nothing
else under heaven, and are probably the
most showy soldiers on the face of the
globe, filed back at our approach like a
shattered rainbow, and we were imme
diately lost in the labyrinths of the
palace. We climbed stairs that seemed
cut out of solid marble quarries, for
there was nothing to be seen but marble
in somo shape or other. Again and
again we were met and passed by
guards ; priests and monks in robes of
many fashions and colors, pass us ; the
place was alive with people, and yet
none of them seemed familiar to my
eyes. We entered ono room, passed
into others, all of them having their
separate uses and most of them in
charge of officers, who looked as little
like the last lot as possible. Finally
we came to a court, one of tlie twenty,
where were carriages, and footmen in
livery, but how they ever found their
way thither I dare not conjecture. Be
yond tho court the chambers v ere more
splendid than the last. New guards
aud pages, in new uniforms and liveries,
moved to and fro through the endless
suites of rooms, and kept everything in
a gentle state of commotion. Here we
left our cloaks and hats. Here we took
our rosaries aud tokens in hand, and
pressed from ono chamber to another,
perhaps waiting a few moments in each
room while my companion spoke to gen
tlemen in waiting, clothed in crimson
satin ,gnd looking very impressive in
deed. Rooms that were frescoed to the
very floors finally gave place to rooms
hung with splendid tapestries of inesti
mable value. It began to look like bu
siness. The chambers were heated with
the great brazen pots of coals, such as
one meets with in all the Italian galle
ries and in the churches, when the
churches are heated at all. These bra
ziers look a little heathenish, and are
none the less interesting for that rea
son. They are big enough for human
sacrifices, somo of them, but they are
seldom hot enough to hurt.”
Hand-shaking.
How did people get in the habit of
shaking hands ? The answer is not far
to seek. In early and barbarous times,
when every savage or semi-savage was
his own lawgiver, judge, soldier and
policeman, and had to watch over his
own safety, in default of all other pro
tection, two friends and acquaintances,
or two strangers desiring to be friends
and acquaintances, when they chanced
to meet, offered each to the other the
right hand, the hand alike of ofiense
and defense, the hand that wields the
sword, the dagger, the club, the toma
hawk, or other weapons of war. Each
did this to show that the hand was
empty, and neither war nor treachery
was intended. A man can not well stab
another while he is in the act of shak
ing hands with him, unless he be a
double-eyed traitor and villain, and
strives to aim a cowardly blow with the
left while giving the right and pretend
ing to be on good terms with his victim.
The custom of baud shaking prevails
more or less among all civilized nations,
and is the tacit avowal of friendship and
good will, just as a kiss is of a warmer
passion. Ladies, every one must have
remarked, seldem or never shake bands
with the cordiality of gentlemen, uuless
it be with each other. The reason is
obvious. It is for them to receive hom
age, not to give it. They can not be ex
pected to show to persons, of the other
sex a warmth of greeting which might
be misinterpreted, unless such persons
are very closely related to them by
family or affection, in which case hand
shaking is not. needed, and the lips do
more agreeable duty.
A Doubter.
There was a man who lived in Cass
county, Georgia, many years ago, who
had once been in the state legislature,
and never neglected an opportunity to
emphasize the fact. He was a perfect
infidel as to new discoveries and new
sciences, being well satisfied that if
the world should turn over the water
would spill out of his well, and only
giving in to steam cars by slow degrees.
But all the vials of his contempt were
poured out upon the idea of a telegraph,
and he was wont to say that nobody
need try to come “ the green” over him
in that way, for he had been to the leg
islature. Finally the state road was
built, and one day workmen began to
put up telegraph posts right in the
front of the house and to stretch the
wire. His exultant neighbors thought
they had him ou that occasion, and
asked, “ Well, old fellow, what do you
think of telegraphs now?” He was cor
nered, but died game. Hrawing him
self up an inch taller, he said, “ Gen
tlemen, when I was in the legislature I
gave this subject my very attentive con
sideration, and I said then, as I say
now, that it may do for letters and small
bundles, but it will never take a cotton
bale, never !”
—A rather singular present received
by a bride last week, was a life insur
ance policy for SIO,OOO on her husband's
life. The poor little thing, all mle
and orange blossoms, wept when she
sav it, and continued to do so until her
| mamma whispered something in her
| ear. Then she raised her eyebrows,
■ sweetly smiled, and tripped up stairs
j to put the policy carefully away.
In God }f 'e 2‘rust.
JAMES LICK’S CAREER.
Tlie Knterpiise by Which the Pliilnn
tlirophlst Accumulated His Million*.
From *• First Steamship Pioneers.”
James Lick has been among tbe most
noteworthy of all our earliest pioneers.
Naturally modest and reticent to the
last degree, nearly all the acts of his
eventful life have remained unuoticed
until recently. We first find him in
the interior of Pennsylvania, a young
married man, quietly pursuing a course
of operations, evincing great enterprise
in their planning, untiring energy in
their execution, aud promising great
advantages iu tlieir results. We next
find him in the pampas of Brazil and
Buenos Ayres, with his thousands of
horses and cattle, in the capacity of a
great proprietor, from whom the gov
ernments of those countries derived
their supplies for the cavalry and their
commissianat. Agaio, we fiuJ Him on
the other side of the continent, oper
ating in the commercial metropolis of
Chili aud Peru ; everywhere and at all
times, so quiet aud so‘unobtrusivo j that
none save those with whom he had
transactions in business, and those who
observed the external improvements
wrought by his enterprises would be
aware of his existence. His mode, in
all departments of life, has never been
in a rut, bat sui generis. In Valpa
raiso he was not only doing new things,
but doing them in his own w T ay. And,
strange as it may seem in such a quiet
man, he was always reaching into en
terprises in advance of others, “taking
time by the fore-lock.” When the news
of the gold discovery in California
reached Valparaiso, he was in business
that would have taken an ordinary man
a series of months, at least, to so close
up that he could leave it with any soit
of consistency, yet he put doubloons
enough in his trunk to make $20,000,
besides the expenses of the trip, en
trusted his business to a confidential
friend, and stepped on board tbe first
vessel leaving his place for San Fran
cisco. Arriving here he found exactly
what his sagacious mind had predicted
from the moment that the golden news
reached him, viz : a splendid opportu
nity to invest in real estate. He scan
ned the situation, foresaw the growth
of the town, selected his “ corner lots”
with great good judgment, and invested
his money. The property he then pur
chased with $20,000 is perhaps to-day
worth many millions. In the first few
years he built sparingly and with great
care ; afterward, liberally and magnifi
cently. In 1853, John B. Weller, IT. S.
senator from California, said, in his
place, “ I would not give six bits for all
the agricultural lands in California.”
At this very time Mr. Lick was prepar
ing the foundations for a flouring mill
in Santa Clara county, which, with its
massive foundation?, fine burr stoues
and interior finishings of solid mahoga
ny, had, before it was completed, cost
him half a million of dollras. This
done, he took fifty acres of adjoining
land, reduced its surface to a spirit
level, and set, by the square and com
pass, with his own hands, tho whole
with the choicest varieties of pear trees.
These operations, and numerous others,
proved very remunerative. He subse
quently erected the magnificent hotel
iu this city which bears his name. Re
cently his acts have placed him in the
front rank of philanthropists of this
or any country. He gave to the society
of California Pioneers the lot on Mont
gomery street, on which Pioneer hall
stands.
Mr. Lick has been for many months
in poor health, but has devoted all his
attention to the arrangement of plans
for tho disposal of his wealth in a man
ner to secure the greatest amount of
good to the coming generations of his
fellow men.
The Prospects for California Wines.
The San Francisco Bulletin has the
following remarks upon this subject:
A few days ago the telegraph reported
that the wines in the yards of France
had been seriously injured by frost, and
the prospect of another short vintage
was result. Last year the vine
yards iu the southern departments of
France and in the German Rhenish
provinces suffered considerably from the
same cause, the vintage in some sections
falling short nearly two-thirds of the
average. If the present reports con
cerning the Fr ncli vineyards are true,
the probability is that the German
vineyards have not escaped. Should
that prove to be the case, the coming
vintage will be a repetition of last year’s
experience. There is a possibility, how
ever, that French wine dealers will be
again resorting to the tactics practiced
by them for the last ten or twelve years
—circulating lalse reports relative to
tbe grape crop for the purpose of stiff
ening the prices of French wines. What
effect a short vintage in Europe this
,\ear will have upon California wines is
difficult to predict. Last year the Cal
ifornia vintage did not exceed 5,000,000
gallons, or 50 per cent less than the av
erage, yet there was no appreciable
change in prices, notwithstanding the
failure of European vines. This coinci
dent failure in the grape crop ought to
have done the viniculturist some good,
in the way of a better price for what he
was able to turn out of his presses. The
only effect it did have was to give him
a readier sale at former prices. Had
the vintage been a full one, or had there
been no damage don? to the European
vineyards, the chances are that there
would have been a universal tumble in
the prices of the whole line of native
wines. California vineyards this year
promise well. The vintage will proba
bly be the largest ever harvtsted in the
state. The vineyards of Los Angeles,
Anaheim and Cucumonga, wh'ch suf
fered exceedingly last year from frosts,
are this year in full bean ing, while So
uoma vineyards give promise of yield
ing extraordinary crops. Competent
judges estimate that the yield will not
be less than 12,000,000 gallons of wine.
The quantity of brandy manufactured
in addition will depend entirely on the
nature of the tax imposed ou the dis
tillers. At least 100,000 gallons of
brandy are estimated to have been
thrown away last year in the form of re
fuse from the presses, which could not
be profitably worked off in consequence
of the excessive tax levied.
—A policeman in Detroit heard that a
citizen had been badly injured, aud he
called at the house to obtain particulars.
He found the man lying on the lounge,
with his head bound up, and liis face
badly scratched. He asked : “ What
is the matter ? Hid he get run over, or
fall down stairs?” “ No, not exactlv,”
replied his wife ; “but he wanted to run
the house his way, aud I wanted to run
it my way ; and there he is.”
Cheap News.
“As easy as lying,” says Hamlet.
This is one of those happy touches ot
Shakspeare that seem slight and acci
dental, while furnishing a fruitful text
to all after-time. Self-observant per
sons are aware of the ease with which
exaggeration and other varieties of false
hood slip from the tongue, and the ex
tremo difficulty of giving an exact ac
count of the simplest matter. And this
difficulty is greatest to ardent and im
aginative persons, who naturally take to
writing. The very qualities of mind
which give them their power to interest
other minds are, in many instances, the
qualities that incline them to pictures
que and effective exaggeration. Telling
the simple truth is the hardest thing
done either by tongue or pen. How
easy it was to represent Napoleon Bona
parte galloping over the Alps on a ro
bust charger, gorgeously caparisoned,
his cloak flying in the breeze, and com
pact legions pressing up the steep accli
vity ! This lie was imagined in a mo
ment ; but it cost M. Thiers much pain
ful toil and long travel to ascertain that
his conqueror crossed the Alps on a
mule, muffled to the eves in his cloak,
and attended by one guide on foot.
In the press, as in literature, false
hood has the additional advantage over
truth of being much the less expensive.
Your raw hand will briug you in an ac
count of a finance meeting which shall
be of necessity a mere tissue of miscon
ceptions and misstatements. To get an
approximately true narrative of what
occurred, without verbatim reports, you
must send three persons of tiained iu
telligeuee ; but a full and exact report,
with the requisite descriptive matter,
demands the intense labor of twelvo
train 2d men. Now tbe account stands
thus : tissue of green falsehood, two
dollars ; vivid narrative strongly resem
bling the truth, thirty dollars ; verbatim
report, eighty dollars. In every de
partment of a newspaper, from the most
commonplace reporting to the most im
portant criticism, we find that lies are
very cheap aud truth is very dear.
We must also bear in mind that if ly
ing is easy, it may also be for the mo
ment highly effective. That tawdry
falsehood of Bonaparte bounding over
the mountains adorns at this hour hun
dreds of barber-shops in all countries,
as the tale, equally groundless, V>f Lin
co’n and the Scotch cap figures in many
histories of the late war. Some men of
very ordinary abilities do succeed, after
long practice, in purging their conver
sation of the usual exaggerations and
and credulities ; but even this negative
part of a difficult virtue is apt to be
purchased by the loss of vivacity. Their
conversation is as dull as it is correct.
But the journalist lies under an inex
orable necessity of not being dull. In
correct he may be, to a certain extent,
aud live ; but if he is dull, he dies.
Aud, unhappily, there are three wavs
open to the journalist of avoiding dull
ness ; txvo wrong and one right. The
right way is vigilance, tact, and hard
labor in the gathering and utterance of
truth proper to be told. The two wrong
ways demand vastly inferior powers.
One is tlie invention or repetition of
falsehood, and the other the revelation
of matters not proper to be told. A
fertile and sympathetic mind, capable
of public spirit, finds the material for
stirring and delightful journalism in a
village; but there are dull dogs that,
even when posted in Washington, the
most interesting capital in the world,
are compelled to eke out their daily
dole of routine by calumnious inven
tion. — James Par ton, in Harper's Mag
azine.
The Costly Mistakes of Civil En
gineers.
President White, of Cornell Univer
sity, makes the following strong asser
tions in a recent lecture: “Another
great department bearing on a multi
tude of industries, directly and indi
rectly, is civil engineering. Take one
among the fields of its activity. We
have in the United States about 70,000
miles of railway, and every year thou
sands of miles are added. Ido not at
all exaggerate when I say that millions
ot dollars are lost every year by the
employment of half educated engineers.
Proofs of this meet you on every side.
Lines in wrong posi tions, bad grades,
and curves, tunnels cut and bridges built
which might be avoided. All of us
know the story. But this is not all.
Hardly a community which has not
some story to tell of great losses en
tailed 1 y bad engineering in other di
rections. Here it is the traffic ©f a
great city sireet interrupted for a year
because no engineering can be found
able to make the calculations for a
‘skew arch’ bridge, a thing which aD.y
graduate of a well equipped depart
ment of engineering can do ; there it is
a city subject to enormous loss by the
failure of its water supply system be
cause tbe engineer employed made no
calculation for the friction of water in
the pipes ; in another instance it is a
whole district sickened by miasma, be
cause a half taught engineer was trusted
with its drainage. We must prepare
men for better work; and for everv dol
lar thus laid out, we shall create or
save thousands, Nay, we shall save
lives as well as money. Mr. Baldwin
Latham, in his recent" book on ‘ Sani
tary Eagineering,’ and Dr. Beale, in bis
work on ‘ Diseased Germs,’ show bv
statistics that a proper application of
engineering in sewerage would save one
hundred thousand lives yearly in Great
Britain alone, and the same ruth holds
in this country.”
—A new counterfeit of the recent is
sue of fifty-cent scrip has just made its
appearance. It is onc-sixteenth of an
inch shorter in length and width than
the genuine, and the line connecting
tbe two upright lines of the letter N in
tbe small words engraved, engraving
and printing, at the end of the scrip is
reversed in every instance but one. In
the counterfeit there is no distinction
between Hit white cravat and shirt bo
som of Samuel Dexter, while in the
genuine they are well defined. It is
likely to deceive in the evening or with
the rapid money changer:.
Payable in Advance.
NUMBER 23.
THE BANKRUPT LAW.
Provisians ot the New Bill Passed by
Congress.
The priueipal points of the new
bankrupt bill, which only requires the
president’s signature to become a law,
are as follows : Forty days are allowed
to elapse before a merchant, or trader
who fai s to pay his commercial paper
is liable to be thrown into bankruptcy.
The assent of one-fo:rth in number
and one third in value of the creditors
is required to throw a debtor into bank
ruptcy. This provision relates back to
the Ist of last December. Proceedings
may be discontinued whenever a debtor
pays those secured debts which were
the ground of throwiug him into bank
ruptcy, or w lieuever, with the consent
of the court, he and a majority of the
creditors shall ask for a discontinuance
of the proceedings. In order to set
aside hy potheen ted pledges or liens OU
the bankrupt’s estate, it must appear
that the party dealing with the bank
rupt knew that he intended to perpe
trate a fraud on the bankrupt law, and
that he intended to go into bankruptcy.
When a loan is made to a bankrupt in
good faith and security taken, with the
intention of aiding him to pull through,
it shall be considered as having actual
value, and the security shall not be in
validated by proceedings in bankruptcy.
A voluntary bankrupt may have his dis
charge if his estate pays 30 per cent, ot
his debts, or provided he obtains the
assent of the same number of liis cred
itors as is necessary to throw him into
bankruptcy. An involuntary bankrupt
can get his discharge if his conduct is
free from all fraud, and he is innocent
of any violation or infringement of
the bankrupt act. Assignees are pro
hibited from dividing fees with other
persons engaged in the case. Composi
tion of creditors may be made with the
debtor, providing a majority of the
creditors joiu, were approved by the
court, for the release and discharge of
the debtor. The fees and expenses are
reduced one-half until the judges of
the supreme court shall establish a per
manent reduction aud simplify pro
ceedings. All the acts of the persons
connected with the execution of the law
shall be made public in the shape of
full and minute reports from the clerk,
the assignee, the marshal and the regis
ter. Original jurisdiction is conferred
upon the territorial courts, with an
appeal to the supreme court of the ter
ritory.
George Washington’s Six-in-Hand.
As there lias been a good deal of talk
in congress and out of it about Gen.
Washington’s coach and six, it is well
enough to have the facts. In the cur
rent number of tlio New York Ledger
Mr. James Parton, the "walking library
of historical facts, throws a light upon
the question. He tells us that George,
the great and good, kept a carriage and
six when lie was president of the United
States, but that he did not charge the
expense of the same to the contingent 1
fund. The result of the discussion in
the first session of congress about the
compensation that the president should |
receive, fixed his salary at $25,000 per
annum, and no extras. When Philadel
phia became the seat of government
the legislature of Pennsylvania assigned
the president a hands' me house for his
residence, but he declined to accept it.
But to return to the carriage question.
Before congress had decided the prob
lem of salary, Washington had ordered
a handsome coach from England, which
arrived in New York in 1789. Mr. Par
ton writes :
“The vehicle, of which Mr. Lossing
has given the public an engraving and
a description, was a very handsome and
substantial structure. The body and
wheels were of a cream color, then very
fashionable, with gilt relief, aud the
body was suspended upon the old-fash
ioned, heavy, leathern straps, like those
upon which stage-coaches were formerly
suspended. Part of the sides and front
were shaded by green Venitian blinds,
inclosed in black leather curtains. The
lining of the coach was of black glossy
leather. Tne Washington arms were
handsomely painted upon the doors,
with the motto—so perfectly character
istic of Washington —''Exitus acta pro
bat—The result proves actions. Upon
each of the four panels of the coach
was a picture emblematic of the seasons
executed by an Italian artist of repu
tation. *
“ Usually, the general had only four
horses harnessed to his coach, but in
tr veling between the seat of govern
ment and Mount Vernon, it wa3 often a
matter of necessity to use six. Mem
bers of congress may rest assured that
the coach, its horses, and all its appur
tenances were paid for with Gen. Wash
ington’s orfn money. It was an ’ honest
coach in every respect, for at the end of
the seconjl term its builder came to
America and settled in Alexandria
where the general informed him that
not a nail or screw of the vehicle had
started. Fifteen years after the death
of Gen. Washington, when it became
the property of the late Bishop Mead,
of Virginia, it was still a sound, service
able coach, though too heavy for ordi
nary use.”
Enchanted Park in Colorado.
It is a beautiful valley about a mile
in length, walled in on either side by per
pendicular walls from two to three hun
dred feet in height. There is but one en
trance to this enchanted spot, and that
is by a very rugged and dangerons
pathway, and the footman experiences
great difficulty in the descent. Upon
reaching the valley we could hear the
rustling of the wind through the lofty
pines on the clifL above us, sounding
like the roar of some devastating hurri
cane, while the grass beneatn our feet
lay as calm and still as death. Xot even
the slightest breath of air could be felt.
Everything was so still that a person
standing at the lower part of the valley
oould distinctly comprehend persons
speaking at the upper end. —Denver
Mirror.
—A writer in an exchange deserves
the respectful sympathy of all gentle
men who give out their washing. He
says : “It is awfully annoying to have
some other fellow’s clothes"left in one’s
room by the washerwoman. Saturday
we put on another felloe’s shirt, but
couldn’t wear it. Althougn it was rut
fled around the bottom, the sleeves
were too short to button cuffs on, and
there was no place for a collar.”
EASTMAN TIMES.
RATES OF ADVERTISING:
■tack. 1 in. 3m. 4 tu. 13 m.
One square f4 00 $ 7 00 SIOOO $ 15 00
Two ftquaree J G 26] 12 00 18 00 25 00
Four squares t 9 75l 19 00’ 38 00 I*9 00
One-fourth col n M)l 22 601,34 00 46 00
OuMialf col 20 uol 32 60' 65 00 80 00
One column | 35 00l t no; 80 01> 130 Ot
Advertisements inserted at the rate of $1.60 per
square for the first insertion, and 75 cents for each
subsequent one. Ten lines or less constitute a
square.
Professional cards, $15.00 pjer annum; for all
months, SIO.OO, in advance.
FACTS AND FANCIES.
—Two million bushels of peanuts are
every year devoured in the United
States.
—“ Do yon like the piano ?” some
one asked Theopkile Gautier. “ I per
fer it to the guillotiue,” was the reply
of the poet.
—The clergy cost the United States
$12,000,000 annually ; the criminals,
$40,000,000 ; the lawyers, $70,000,000 ;
rum, $200,000,000.
—“ Where do wicked little boys go
to who fish on Sunday ?” asked a teach
er in a Sunday school. “Down to
Cullom’s Rilfie,” was the prompt reply.
—A. D. 1900. Scene before a crema
tion undertaker's shop : Small boy—
“ I say, sir, is dad done yet? If he is,
please put his ashes in this ’ere tin ket
tle.”
—A correspondent asks : “ What
takes up more room on a sidewalk uow
adays than a fashionably-dressed fe
male ?” Answer—A boy in anew pair
of boots.”
—“We’d like a remedy for sore feet,”
says a Cleveland paper. Have you
tried the new kind of roofing material ?
Six yards will do to commence on, if
they are common Cleveland feet.
—“ When we are dead.” said Haw
thorne one evening, sitting down in one
of the loveliest of New England ceme
teries, “ when we are dead, we Ameri
cans begin to enjoy ourselves.”
—A commercial writer suggests that
the hides of cremated persons might be
utilized. This awful suggestion gath
ers force from the fact that the skins of
many people have already been tanned.
—lt is a solemn thing—a very solemn
thing, to get married —to feel that
henceforth through life the mikl-eyed
girl at your right is to bo the only fe
male in the wide world duly licensed to
throw flat-irons at your head.
—A shark, fifteen feet long, was killed
on Arkwright island, near Savanuah, a
few days ago, and in its stomach were
found one old boot, one tin cup, two
crabs, one small shark, and several
small bones of the human foot.
relax and contract. There’s Mrs.
Weaver, of Peoria. She tried to throw
herself into her husband’s grave, fainted
away and went wild. That was five
months ago, and the other day she mar
ried a red-eyed lightmng-rod man.
A. physician of skill and experience
says a mustard plaster should never be
mixed with hot water, but with the
white of eggs; and when so prepared
does its duty as a counter-irritant with
out producing the anguish of a blister,
as in the old method.
—A New Bedford paper tells a story
about a shop-keeper, who advised a
customer to have two mohair switches
instead of one, as the article was be
coming scarce. He said that the man
whom°be hired to hunt rnoes had only
caught two within a fortnight,
—A gentleman who came several
thousand miles to view lexas with the
purpose ox purchasing, got a large-sized
red ant on him, and, stranger as he was,
he cavorted around aud used as appro
priate language as if he had lived there
all liis life, and moved in the best of
society.
The N. O. Picayune doesn’t know
why it is that young men always con
sider it necessary to grin when they are
talking to the other sex. Nobody can
smirk and grin at every word he utters
without losing every one of those pecu
liarities which originally distinguished
him from the chimpanzee.
\ very prosaic and matter-of-fact
clergyman recently remarked that if
“all the bones of the victims of intem
perance could be gathered and made in
to a pyramid, no plain could be largo
enough for its base to rest upon, and
the planets would have to swept
aside to make room for its apex.
—lodine and cantkarides will remove
warts, but not so fast as a buzz-saw.
Hot lemonade will take the velvet effa
bad cold, but if hot whisky wouldn t do
it just as well, bad colds would be
scarcer. Gray hairs silver the evening
of life, but that was before the I oca
hontas coloring fluid was discovered.
—A gentle Quaker had two horses, a
very good and a very poor one. When
! seen riding the latter, it turned out
I that his better half had taken the good
one, “What!” said a sneering bach
elor, “how comes it that yon let your
wife ride the better horse ? The only
reply was: “Friend, when thee be
married thee’ll know.’
—A sly old boy, aged eighty, was be*
; fore a 'London court for breach ot
! promise lately. The only, thing that
i saved him was the economical method
;of liis spelling in his letters, w hen he
wanted to say “May God bless you
and kisses,” he only wrote “M. G. B. u.
and K.” “M. D.” in his letters signi
fied “my dear,” and “L. P.” “little
pet. ”
—An elephant passed over the new
bridge at St. Louis the other day.
About fifty boys, loaded with CAKes and
other elephant tempters, walked back
wards ahead of him and did the coax
ing, while a crowd of men with spikes
and crowbars urged him from behind.
A St. Louis paper describes him a.,
“the meek old mountain, apparently
deaf to the applause which greeted
him.”
—A worthy member of the church,
who is exceedingly deaf, was assisting
the congregation to sing that good old
hymn:
“ If vou g£t there before I do.
Look out for for me, I'm coming too.”
When the last verse had been finished,
what was the people’s amazement to
hear brother A. drawl out, all alone by
himself.
“ Look out for me. I’m coming too.”
It effectually destroyed the solemnity of
that meeting.
—Brooklyn has abolished its system
of educating young men and women in
the same school-room. The reason
given for the change is that the system
has proved promotive of immorality.
The experience of St. Louis in .the co
education of the sexes is quite different
from this. There the association has
produced an emulation of the most
healthful and desirable character. Bos
ton, too, we thiuk, ha3 found the sys*era
practicable. Brooklyn must have man
aged very badly ; though, perhaps, tne
fault may lie in her climate.