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EASTMAN TIMES.
A Live Country Paper.
rCBLISIIF.D EVERY THURSDAY MORNING
-BY—
JTL. S. BURT OM.
XKIIMS OF SUBStRIPTIOIIi
One copy, one yo&r f 2.00
One ropy, fiix months 1.00
'J>n copies, in clubs, one year, each 1.60
Single copies 6cte
A CHAIIMINU WOMAN.
A i narmlng woman, I’ve hoard it said
H-, other women aw litflit as she ;
Rut all in vain I puzzled ray head
To lind wherein the cbarrn may V>o.
j{, r faee, iiuieed, is pretty enough,
And her form is quite as good as the best,
Where nature has given the bony stuff,
And a clever milliner all the rest.
Intelligent ? Yes—m a certain wav,
With the feminine gift of ready speech,
And knows very well what not to say
Whenever the theme transcends her reach.
Hut turn the topic on things to weir,
Krom an opera cloak to a robe de nuit —
Rats, ha ques or bonnets — ’twill make you stare
To see how fluent the lady can be.
Her laugh is hardly a thing to please;
For an honest laugh must always start
T’roni a gleesome mood, like a sudden breeze,
And hers is purely a matter of art
A muscular form made to-show
What nature designed to lie beneath
The tin r mouth ; but what cau she do,
If that is ruiDed to show the teeth ?
To her seat in church—a good half mile—
When the day is fine she i* sure to go,
Arrayed, of course in the latest style
La mode de Petrie has got to show,
And she puts her hands ou the velvet pew
(Can hands so white have a taint of sin 1)
Ami thinks—how her prayer-book’s tint of blue
Must harmonize with her milky skin !
Ah what shall we say of one who wa’ks
In Helds of flowers to choose the weeds?
!;• ads authors of whom she never talk",
And talks of authors she never reads ?
Hhe’s a charming woman, I’ve heard it said
Hv other women as light ns she;
Rut all in vain I puzzle my head
To Arid wherein the harm may bo.
— John L r. Saxe.
MOW .1 wiki; GOT in allowance.
l itoro wore people enough to envy
Millioent Haughton when she was mar
ried to Radcliffe Gates. She was only
a district school teacher, at so much a
month, without home or parents. He
was a wealthy banker, who seemed to
have nothing on earth to do but to ii:-
dn’gc his whims and caprices to their
uttermost bent, and the world in gen
eral announced its decision that Milly
Haughton “ had done uncommonly well
for herself.”
I>ut Milly did not look happy upou
that golden July morning, witli'the sun
shine streaming through the oriel win
dow of the great breakfast room at
C ites Place, and scattering little drops
oi gold and crimson and glowing pur
ple on the mossy ground of the stone
colored carpet.
!Sho was dressed in a loose white cam
bric wrapper, looped and buttoned with
blue, and a single pearl arrow upheld
the Hbioing masses of her lovely auburn
hair. Her eyes were deep, liquid hazel,
her complexion as soft and radiant as
tlie dimpled side of an early peach ;
mill the little kid slippered foot that
patted the velvet ottoman was as per
iod and tapering as a sculptor could
have wished it.
Mr. Gates, from his side of tko
damask-draped table, eyed her with tne
complacent gaze of proprietorship,
btie was ills wife. He liked tier to look
bell, just as ho wanted his horses prop
erly groomed, and his conservatories
kept in order ; and he troubled himself
very little about the shadow on her
brow.
“ I’m in earnest, Radcliffe,” she Paid,
with tmphasis.
“So I supposed, Mrs. Gates,” said
I lie husband, leisurely folding his paper
a sign that the news within was thor
oughly exhausted—“ so I supposed.
Hut it isn fe at all worth while to allow
yourself to gt t excited. When I say a
tiling, Mrs. Gates, I generally mean it.
And I repeat, if you need money for any
sensible and necessary purpose, 1 pliali
He most willing and happy to accommo
date you.”
Millie nt bit her full, red lower lip
and drummed impatiently on the table
'vitli her ten restless fiugtrs. “And I
:im to come meekly imploring you for
eveiv tive-cent piece I happen to
want?”
“ A es, Mrs. Gates, if you prefer to
put the matter in that light.”
“ lladcliffe, she coaxed, suddenly
‘'hanging her tone, “do give me au al
lowance ; I don’t care how little. Don’t
subject me to the humiliation of plead
"i' hir a ! ittle money half-a dozen times
a<• ay. You are rich. ”
“ Exactly, mv dear,” nodded this
• neuict, “and that is the way I made
nn fortune, by looking personally after
'• v penny, and £ mean to keep it
np.
l>ut think how T was mortified yes
terday. when Mrp. Armorer came to ask
nn if I could subscribe fifty cents to
" inis buying a hand carriage for opr
" id erwoman’s child—only titty cents
1,1(1 had to say, ‘i must ask my
tur-band to g.ve me the monev when he
rHarEs horn the city, for I had cot
<’>on fifty cents of my own.’”
All very right—all very proper,”
■ ! 't I Mr. Gates, playing with a huge
\ t'*' of gold that hung across his chest
ii iu- guise of a watch chain.
Other ladies are nob kept penni-
1 nafc rests entirely between them-
St .'‘I s l heir husbands, Mrs. Gatep.”
* ’ w i'l not endure it,” cried Mdlv,
to her feet, with che< ks dyed
-bid indignantly glistening ej es.
• ‘t. (ntes leaned back in his chair
W| Jh bfovoking complacencr.
will have money,” said Milly de
. are y°n going to get it, my
retorted her spouse, with an eg
gouating smile playing around the or-
I |' r of bis mouth. “ You have nothing
Jour own—absolutely nothing. The
w all mine, and 1 moan to keep
M'lly sat down again, twisting her
curt kandkerchit f around and around.
V 1 ® was Eot prepared with an imnie
uiate answer.
, And now, Mrs. Gates,” said the
I I f er .’ ft t‘fcer a moment or two of over
timing silence, “if you’ll be good
1 ; Ml gb to stitch that button ou my
' ,ne . 111 go down town. I have al
' ' y w as ted too much time.”
,l|( ‘ Ve,^a t passage at arms ended,
'Elly felt that, so far, she was
Worrited,
watched Mr. Ga'es drive off in
'i * >egant open barouche, drawn by
' M long tailed chestnut horses, all in a
f ' ter (t plated harness, and turned
o^' V ’ tT moßt w i fe hi n g that she was M*l
cent Hanghton once aga.n, behind her
of 511 little red Bchool-house.
itn ie wound at the nlaid turn
(l re ' Aubusson errpets, and satin wm
',VV 'j ra Ptries, and thought witli a pas
her mt ° E Mldo all this availed
„ " ll d provoking of Radcliffe,” she
••nt | unr<X - . “£ ve half a mind to go
0 K £ ,v iee, ojr dressmaking, or some-
Two Dollars Per Annum,
VOLUME 111.
thing—for I must have money of my
own, and I will.”
Just then a servant knocked at the
door with a basket and a note.
“ An old lady in a Shaker bonnet and
a one horse wagon left it,” said the girl,
with a scarcely dhgabed titter. “ She
wouldn’t come in, although I invited
her.”
Mrs. Gates opened the note. It ran
in a stiff, old-fashioned caligraphv, as if
tLe pen were an unwonted implement
in the writer’s hand ;
“Dear Milly—The strawberries in the south
medder lot are just ripe, where you used to
pick ’em where you were a little g irl; so Pene
lope picked a lot, and we made bold to tend
them to you, for the sako of old times, as Aunt
Araminia is going to the city to-morrow. We
hope you will like them. Affectionately, your
friend, Maiua Ann Peabody.”
The tears sparkled in the bride’s eyes.
For an instant it seemed to her as if
she were a merry child again picking
strawberries in the golden rain of a
July sunshine, with the scent of wild
roses in the air and the gurgle of the
little trout stream close by. And as
she lifted the lid of the great basket of
crimson, luscious fruit and inhaled the
delicious perfume, a sudden idea started
into her head.
“ Now I will have money of my own!”
she cried out, “money that I will earn
myself, and thus hi independent!”
Ilalf an hour afterwards Mrs. Gates
came down stairs, to the infinite amaze
ment of Rachel, the chambermaid, and
Louisa, the parlor-maid, in a brown
gingham dress, a white pique sun-bon
net, and a basket on her arm.
“ Won’t yon have the carriage,
ma’am?” asked the latter, as Mrs.
Gates beckoned to a passing omnibus.
“ No, I won’t!” said the banker’s
lady.
When within the city limits she
alighted and set to work in good earn
est.
“ Strawberries ! who’ll buy my wild
strawberries ?” rang out her clear,
shrill voice, as she walked along—
lightly balancing the weight on her
arm, and enjoying the impromptu
masquerade as only a spirited young
woman cau do.
Airs. Prowler bought four quarts for
preserving, at twenty-five cents per
quart.
“ Wild berries has such a flavor,”
said tlie old lady, reflectively, “ and
tain’t often you get ’em in the city. I
s’pose you don't come round rtg'lar.
young woman ?”
“ No, I don’t, ma’am.”
“ Because you might get some good
customers,” said Airs. Prowler.
Miss Seninthia Hall, who keeps
boaiders, purchased two quarts; Mrs.
Capt. Carbury took one, and then
Millicent jumped on the cars and rode
werily down town.
" JL Ve gOt a dullai and DOTcnlj Uto
cents of ray own, at all events,” she
said to h r elf.
“ Strawberries ! Nice, ripe, w T ild
strawberries ! Buy my strawberries !”
Her sweet voice resounded through
the halls of the great marble building,
on whose first floor the great bank was
situated.
It chanced to be a dull interval of
business just taen, and the cashier
looked up with a yawn.
“ J say, Bill James,” said he, to the
youugest clerk, “ I have an idea that a
few strawberries wouldn’t go badly.
Call in the woman.”
Billy, nothing loth, slipped off his
sto.l with a pen behind each ear, and
scampered off into the hall.
So Milly sold another quait.
As she was giving change for the
cashier’s dollar bill, the president him
self came in, bustling and brisk as
usual.
“Eh? Wliat? How?” barked out
Air. Radcliffe Gates. “Strawberries?
Well, I don’t care if I take a few my
self. Here, young woman, how do you
sell them ?”
Milly pushed back her sun-bonnet,
and executed a sweeping courtesy.
“Twenty-five cents a quart, sir, if
you please,” purred she, with much
humility.
“ Mrs. Gates !” he ejaculated.
“My uame, sir,” Millicent.
“May I venture to inquire—”
“O, yes!” said Mi ly. “You may
inquire as much as you please. I
needed a little money, and I am earning
it. See how much I have already !”
and she triumphantly displayed her
roll of crumpled stamps. “The straw
berries were all roy own, sent to me
this morning by old Mrs. Peabody, and
I’m telling them to get an income of
my own.”
“You, ma’am, selling strawberries
througu the streets !”
Milly made a second courtesy.
* Extreme necessities justify extreme
measure-, Mr. Gites.” said she, saucily.
“ I earned my own living before I saw
you, and I can again.”
Mr. lladcliffe Gates locked uneasily
around at the crowd of gaping cleiki.
“James,” said lie, “call me a hack.
Mv Hear, let me take you home.”
“Not until I have sold the rest of
my strawbeiries,” saucily retorted the
young wife.
“ I’ll t ke all—at any price!” impa
tiently exclaimed the banker.
“ Cash down ?”
“Yes; anything, everything—only
come out of this crowd.”
So Mr. and Mrs. Gates went home ;
and that evening the banker agreed to
make his wife a regular allowance of
so much per week, to be paid down
every Monday morning at the break
fast table.
“ But we’ll have no nmre selling
strawberries,” said Mr. Gates, ner
vously.
“To be sure n>t,” said Milly. “All
I wauted was a little money of my
own.”
And Mr. lladcliffe Gates respected
his wife all the more because she had
conquered him in a fair battle.
One of the most singular operations
of the moon are the cracks or fissures
which appear on its surface. These
radiate out from a common center, gen
erally from the center of a volcano.
They are of vast extent, one of them
being six hundred miles long, from one
to three miles, wide, and of a depth so
great that no telescope has yet been
able to penetnte its abysses, They
appear to have been formed by vast
eruptions and upheavals,
EASTMAN, DODGE CO., GEORGIA, THURSDAY, MARCH 4, 1875.
Framing Pictures.
A frame must invariably interfere
with the picturesque illusion intended
by the artist. All frames are nuisances
to the art of the painter. They tend to
destroy the perspective, and confuse
the c iloristic qualities of a paintiDg.
Yet, in private bou°es, the artistic ef
fect of a picture, though the most im
portant, is rot the sole consideration,
The p irt which paintings must take in
a house is that of decorative furniture—
ornaments in a room which should be
considered in relation to the other arti
cles of furniture should be made to set.
them off, and should not injure any
more than possible the artistic effect of
the painting.
Tne furniture in a room should, like
the setting of a gem, be made to en
hance the proper purpose of the paint
ings by not obstructing the light, and
by not disturbing the coloristie design
of the painting by the juxtaposition of
the distracting colors.
The best way to look upon a painting
is from the dark, through a narrow
opening, in such a manner that all the
light is thrown upon the picture.
When a painting is regarded merely
as an article of furniture it has the best
effects when inserted iu the walls, as in
tlie Italian palace.
A gilt frame is good for oil paintings,
except wh< n gilding or a warm atmos
pheric effect or the light of torches or
artificial lights are represented. The
sheen of the gilding serves to detach
the painting from the surrounding ob
jects, and allows the gaze to center upon
the picture. BroDze, black, or dark
wood frames are suitable for the classes
above mentioned and for many kinds of
pictures, txcept when the browns and
shadows which are near the border may
be dulled.
Drawings, chromo-lithographs, pho
tographs and engravings might better
be framed in some natural wood than
in gilt frames.
Oak or some light wood accords woll
with such pictures. In water color and
other color pictures the tone may be
heightened, and the prospective often
improved, by attention to the color of
the frame or by the introduction of an
inner border of tinted paper.
Engravings, lithographs, and draw
ings, should never be hung upon the
same wall with oil paintings, for the
reason that their own effects are greatly
damaged from proximity to the lights
and colored forms of the paintiDg, and
that they may distract tha attention
fre.m the composition of the painting.
Every painting that is worth hanging
at all deserves a wall to itself.
Glazed pictures should never be
placed so as to reflect the light, as they
cannot be seen in such a position with
r. gainful pffort of vision.
Picnure-frames ought to be distin
guished in color from the remaining
furniture of a room, since a part of their
design is to isolate the pictures which
they encase. For the same reason they
should not correspond too nearly in
their decoration with the other objects
of the room. On the other hand, how
ever, they should not be out of harmony
with tli9 predominating color of the
room, and might better harmonize iu
tone than by contrast; neither should
their ornamentation be out of keeping
with the general style of decoration ob
served in the rest of the furniture.
Pictures of middle size should be
hung with their centers nearly level with
the observer’s eye. They should be
hung flat against the wall and not as is
often the case, tilted out. When they
hang from the wall there is an unpleas
ant sense of insecurity and a confusion
of lines, and the projection of shape
less shadows upon the neighboring wall.
They should also be secured by two
cords suspending from two nails—heavy
cords for large pictures rather than thin
cords or wires, in order to preserve the
idea of security. Two parallel cords
hanging perpendicularly are in better
keeping with the parallel lines of the
room tlian the unpleasant, triangular
form made by a cord suspended by a
single nail attached to the two sides of
the picture-frame.
Oil paintings in gilt frames have the
best effect against hangings of olive
gray, more or less deep, according to
the tone of the picture.
Pearl gray, or normal gray, a little
deeper, is a good tint to receive engrav
ings and plain lithographs in gilt or
yellow wood frame.
Conversation as an Art.
Wo all converse—or, in other words,
talk with each other—unless forbidden
by unkindly nature, as iu the case of
deaf mutes, or compelled by arbitrary
force to maintain a silence we abhor.
Wo occasionally read of people who, in
a lit of caprice, resolve never to bestow
upon their fellow-creatures the benefit
of their discourse. But such people
maybe califd phenomenal. Men and
women may be taciturn, just as men
and women may be loquacious, but
voluntary silence is never to be expected
of any human being possessed of the
ordinary desire to secure information
supposed to be locked up in the bosom
of another, of any one gifted with a
common anxiety to impart information
i o others. Ton*. u°s were made for vocal
purposes, and humanity is apt to regard
iliem, in its own case, as made for
speech. Whether the inferior orders of
creation enteitain each other with con
versation or not is a question we leave
to scholastic disputants ; but that no
two of the human family will long re
main silent if placed within sight and
hearing of each other, is an accepted
fact. If they can -think, as strangers,
of no other ooDgenial point of interest,
they will ddate upon the weather, and
the way to mutual discourse thus opene 1
upon neutral ground, the path to so
oiability becomes one of facility.
But, after all, mere speech is not eon
versation in the stricter sense, and of
those witia wtom we talk everyday,
how few really converse well —how few
of them so interest us with their eon
versation that we listen to what they
utter with gratification, and in their
absence loDg to listen to them again.
Is conversation, then, an art? Speech
we know to be a natural gift; but is
conversation itself—the kind of conver
sation tlTat first wins and then fasci
nates our attention—a gift only ac
quirtd by tuition and experience? TLe
French think eo, we presume, for a well
known professor in Paris advertises to
In God }y'e Trust.
“ give lessons in the art of conversa
tion and if professors teach ladie* 1 , in
youth, how to walk gracefully, why not
how to talk in the same manner? For,
although everybody walks and talks,
not more than one in a hundred
do either, without instruction, in a
manner calculated to earn an honest
compliment. The art of conversation
is realized as such in a moment by a
person unaccustomed to society, if sud
denly introduced to a gathering of in
tellect. However fluent in speech and
self-possessed in manner upon ordinary
occasions, even the boldest feel dis
mayed udou entering a sphere pervaded
by an atmosphere of mental culture
They are at once conscious of their in
ability to risß to the level of their sur
roundings. They have language, and
they may have assurance, but thev lack
the buoyancy inspired by a familiarity
with the art of conversation —just as the
untaught flounderer iu deep water sinks
because, with bands and feet like his
neighbor, he lacks a knowledge of the
art of swimming.
Fat in Forasc Plant 1 ?.
The Scientific American makes the
following statements, which are well
worthy the attention of stockmen and
farmers generally, showing as they do
the value of the gras?ei as fat-forming
food, both in a green and dry state :
To any one not a chemist or a quad
ruped, the last place to look for fat
would be a hay-mow or a stack of hay,
yet it appears from recent investigations
that fat is not only an essential constit
uent of hay, straw, and similar forms
of vegetation, but one of considerable
economic value.
In the lower leaves of oats in blossom.
Arndt found as much as 10 pier cent, of
the dry weight to con&ist of fat and
wax, the latter appearing as the bluish
bloom so conspicuous on the leaves of
luxuriant cereals. In fodder crops gen
erally the greatest portion of fat is
found in young and thrifty. Thus Way
found eirly meadow grass to contain as
much as 6| per cent, of fat, while in
that of the same meadow, collected in
the latter pnrt of June, there was but
little more than 2 per cent. The pro*
portion of fat is increased by nitro
genous manures; the grass of a sew
aged meadow at Rugby contained above
4 per cent, of fat, while similar grass,
not sewaged, aftbrdtd less than 3 per
cent, of fat.
The nature of this sort of vegetable
fat was investigated some little time
ago by the German chemist, Ivonig, who
found that by treatment with strong
alcohol, the fat of grass and clover hay
could be separated into two parts, one
a solid waxy substance, the other a fluid
fat, soluble in alcohol. At first he
considered the la liter to be a true glycer-
Knt Ahfmgpd his mind after the in
vestigations of Schulz, who proved that
tnougU it t,h e same proportion
of carbon and hydrogen as oramarj
fat, the fluid fat of hay is something
quite different, since no glycerine can
be obtained from it,
Konig has since confirmed these re
sults and carried forward the investi
gation, showing that the fat of oats, rye
and vetch seed is similarly constituted.
In all these forms of vegetation, hay,
oat straw, the grain of oats, rye, vetch
es, and possibly others, he finds oleic
and palmitic acids, not combined with
glycerine, but in a free state ; and as
these acids in their combinations are
well known as large ingredients of nu
tritive fats and oils, it is likely that
they have a considerable influence on
the value of these plants for fodder.
The Origin of Indian Names.
A member of Major Powell’s expedi
tion, which has been engaged in the
territories, furnished the Tribune some
interesting notes of the discoveries
made in the origin of Indian names.
It seems that each tribe or primary or
ganization of Indians, rarely including
more than two hundred souls, is, in
obediance to the additional laws of these
people, attached to some well-defined
territory or district, and the irib9 takes
the name of such district Thus the
U-intats, known to white men as a
branch of the Utes, belonged to the
Uintah valley. U imp is the name for
pine ; too mean, for land or country ;
U-im-too-meap, pine land ; but this has
been contracted to U in tab, and the
tribe inhabiting ihe valley were c died
U-in tats. Uis the term signifying ar
row ; U-too meap, arrow land. The re
gion of the country bordering on Utah
lake is called IT too-meap because of the
great numberof reeds growing there from
which their arrow-shafts were made. The
tribe formerly inhabiting Utah valley
was called U.tah-ats, which has been
corrupted into the name Ute by the
white people of the country. The name
U tah-ats belonged only to a small
tribe living in the vicinity of the lake,
but it has been extended so as to in
clude the greater part of the Indians of
Utah and Colorado. Another general
name used by white men is Piutes. A
tribe of U-tah-ats being defeated and
driven away by a stronger tribe, who
occupied their country and took their
name, weie obliged to take anew name
corresponding to the new home in which
they settled themselves. But they also
called themselves Pal U tah ate or true
U-tah-ats. The corrupted name Piutes
is now applied to the Indians of a large
section of country. Several of these
tribes have numerous names, and in
this way the number of individual
tribes has probably been much overesti
mated.
Novel Railroad in Stria.—lt is said
that the Turkish government is con
structing a Aleppo anu
Alexandretta, a distance of more than
ninety miles, to consist of a low wall
following closely the topography of the
country. Upon this wall a single rail
will te laid, and the locomotive and the
last car being provided with horizontal
wheels to grasp the sides of the mason
ry will retain the whole train securely
upon the track, it is thought. The
passenger ca’s are to be constructed in
such a manner as to make it easy to ad
just the weight by arranging the trav
elers in their seats. When filled prop
erly nirety-six passengers will consti
tute a load for a single train.
Powdered chalk added to cemmon
glue strengthens i . A glue which will
resist the action of water is mada by
boibng one pout and of glue in two quarts
of summed milk.
Uncle lleb.
How the Old Man Hied—Taking tils Last
Luxury on Karth.
His full name was Hebdon Wright
Turner, but everybody called him
“ Heb.” He must have passed his six
tieth birthday, but no one cared to look
a second time to see if he was growing
old and wearing out. He chored
around livery stables and saloons, al
ways hungry and always ragged, and
while no one was his friend he had no
enemies.
The other day he fell down in a faint
in a saloon on the river road, and when
he was restored to consciousness he
startled the t hree or four men who had
placed him on the bed by exclaiming :
“ Boys, I’ll be darned if I ain’t going
to die !”
No one had ever stopped to think
whether Uncle Heb was ever going to
die. It was the general impression
among his acquaintances that he would
live along for three or four hundred
years.
“ How and you feel ?” they asked.
“ Kinder trembly and weak,” he re
plied. “ I’ll bet fifty cents I’ll kick the
bucket afore noon !”
I hey offered to bring a doctor, but he
said :
“No, don’t take any trouble ; ’tend
right to business as usual, and when I
kick the beam, plant me quietly and
without any style!”
The men imagined that it was mere
weakness which would soon pass off,
and one of them sat down near him
while the others retired to go about
their business.
“ It’s tough weather for a funeral!”
remarked Uncle Heb, as the fierce wind
howled around the house. “It don’t
make an} 7 difference how I’m carried
up ; I wouldn’t know it if there were
sixteen hacks and a brass band; just as
lief go up a 1 one with the driver !”
After a pause he smiled blandly and
inquired :
“ They’ll speak of me as the * late
deceased,’ wont they ? Yes, of course.
I should like to read the papers to
morrow and see what they say of me
but I won’t be hero, you know.’
“Have you any property to dispose
of ?” asked the watcher.
“ Lemme see !” mused Uncle Heb.
“Yes, thar’s an extra pair of butes and
a hat and about 17 cents in money. I
suppose the right way would be to have
executors ’ pinted, but, as I said be
fore, I don’t want any fooling around.
You can divide up the estate between
you.”
The old ma.i was very pale and he
seemed to suffering, and the watcher
was anxious to do something.
“I tell you,” replied Uncle Heb,
“ I’d like some brandy. If it wasn’t
just as it is I wouldn’t put you to any
trouble, but being I’m going away to
stay I’d like a few s wallers ot real petiun
brn^u|y—some of that in the fanny
Borne was brought him, and he
smacked his lips, smiled, and remarked:
“ If I wasn’t going to die I’d try and
lay in a quart or two of that brand !”
After five or ten minutes more the
nurse asked him if he didn’t feel better,
“ Feel better !” echoed the old man,
“how can a dying man feel better?
Do you suppose I’d be fooling around
here if I wasn’t going to expire ?”
The man sat down, and Uncle Heb
continued :
“As soon as I go up the spout one of
“ou go to the Poormaster and say :
Mr. Willard, old Heb is dead ; send a
feller down and plant him. That w 7 ill
be as good as a speech two hours’ long.
I’m sorry I was took sick here, but it
wasn’t my fault. You may go now.”
The man went out, thinking Uncle
Heb out of his mind, and sat down and
played dominoes for an hour. Hearing
no movement in the back room he
opened the door.
The old man was dead ! — Detroit
Free Press.
loss of Memory.
The loss of memory during illness or
from some sudden shock has, no doubt,
been observed by every one ; but some
curious phases of it not generally known
can be found in the books and journals
of physicians. A Scotch Highland wo
man, long accustomed to use English
’anguage, was placed under the care of
Dr. Mackintosh at Edinburgh, during
aa atiack of apoplexy. She so far re
covered as to look around her with an
appearance of intelligence; but the doc
tor could not make her understand a
word he said. At last it occurred to
him to have one of the attendants speak
to her in Ciaelic, her long-unused native
torgue; ami to that she immediately
and readily responded. When she re
covered her health more perfectly, her
Eng ish came back to her. Dr. Rush
mentions the case of an Italian gentle
mau, who died of yellow fever in New
York, and who underwent, during the
malady, a series of mental changes.
During the first part of his illness he
spoke Eagli-h, which had for some time
been his familiar languige in that coun
try ; during the middle period English
was driven from his mind by French,
which he had learned earlier ; and on
the day of his death he spoke only his
native Italian. Abernethy, the great
surgeoD, told a similar story of a man
whom he attended, who was born in
France, bnt had spent the greater part
o ; his life in England, and had for many
years lost the habit of speaking French.
An injury to his head brought him un
der the care of Abernethy, who ob
s:r?ed that during his illness the man
spoke only French, going back to liis
English as he recovered. We ail know
how, to the very old and the dying, the
language of their childhoodcomesagain,
and the old teeu s rise before the ajing
eyes like pictures, so that from the re
covery oi childish peace they go out
across the tide to the unknown, new life
beyond.
Modern Athens. for Athens, it
is a place to sre and quit. The out
lines, hgbts and colors are marvel.us,
but even the most hallo-wed classical
assooiatioDß cannot clothe the bare hills
like those green forests that the heart
sickens for. You may still stray con
t*mp!ative in the philosophic shades of
Aeademus, Lip your though s are likely
to run on the length of dusiy or muddy
roads which lies between your step and
the streets of iEolus. It is true the
life in the cafes is lively enough, and it
Payable in Advance.
NUMBER 5.
is curious to mark the excitement of
journalists and politicians. Athens
boasts about as many daily journals as
Paris ; it provides as many places as
possible for its patriots; but as every
lad of decent intelligence plunges into
a political career, naturally the number
of public men scrambling for places is
out of all proportion to the gentlemen
in office, and you tire of looking on at a
storm in a saucer.
Fad’s Jetty t lliil.
The west and south, irrespective of
party, unitedly favored the bill. The
provisions of the bill, as amended
and passed the house, are these: That
John B. Eads, of St. Louis, be au
thorized to construct such permanent
and sufficient jetties and such auxiliary
works as are necessary to create and
permanently maintain a wide and deep
channel between the southwest pass of
the Mississippi river and the Gulf of
Mexico, and for that purpose he may
construct in the river an outlet or pass,
and likewise in the Gulf of Mexico
such walls, jetties, dikes, levees and
other structures, and employ such
boats, rafts and appliances as he may,
in the prosecution of said work, deem
necessary. Provided, that no such
structures employed shall materially
interfere with the free navigation of
said pass, and to protect said works he
may build and maintain such levees as
may be neceessary to secure their per
manency along tkie banks of the river
or southwest pass. Provided, that un
less the construction of the work shall
be substantially commenced within
eight months from the approval of this
act, and prosecuted with due dilligence,
these provisions shall be void, and un
less Eads shall secure a navigable depth
of twenty feet of water through said
pass within thirty months after the ap
proval of this act, congress may revoke
the privileges granted and cancel the
obligations assumed by the United
States unless Eads shall, after securing
twenty feet of water secure an addi
tional depth of not less than two feet
each succeeding year thereafter, until
twenty-six feet shall have been secured,
and four feet additional, or thirty feet,
within twenty-four months after having
secured twenty-six feet; and in case
Eads shall fail to comply with the fore
going conditions as to depth of water
and time for any period of twelve
months in excess of the time fixed,
and the act shall absolutely become
null and void without action by con
gress. These conditions are made ob
ligatory upon Ead’s heirs. That the
conditions prescribed being complied
with, the United States agree to pa}
Eads eight million dollars for construct,
mg the works and obtaining the depth
of thirty feet in said channel, and the
annual ram of one hundred and thirty
/miioi-H for each and ever}
yoov Tnofr. Bflin rlAnfli M tbjrfcv t'ppf mb all
be m*utained by ills* jetties smPtBSl J
iary works aforesaid in southwest pass
during twenty years after securing tht
said depth. An amendment was added
to insure the permanency and durabil
ity of the work. It directs the secre
tary of war, if Eads is not permanently
constructing- the jetties, to report the
facts to congress for action.
In a Gondola.
Susan Coolridge writes : “ Would
you know liow gondolas are * ordered
m Venice ? You step out ou the balco
ny and call ‘ Giecomo !’ Instantly frem
below comes the response, ‘At you !
service, Signora !’ and the gondola,
jour little private carriage, shoots to
the door. We are fond of our Giacomo,
who was a stout, handsome fellow, with
face and arms dyed by the sun to a
beautiful umber brown. He effected
bright colors, and his orange and red
awning, his yellow shirt and scarlet
ea h, made, when taken in connection
with his brown face, a vivid bit ol
moving color which was joy to see
This evening, my evening, we were
without awning, and I was glad of my
parasol as we shot into the Grano
Canal, which was all a dazzle of gold
and red from the sud, as yet a good
nay above the horizon. ‘ Where will yon
go, Signora?’ ‘To the sunset, Giocomo.
Go to the other side of the Giudecca,
and I’ll choose a place.’ Anothei
second and we were gliding towards
the Giudecca, which is the wildest of all
the Venetian canals. The motion of i<
gondola is UDlike any other motion in
the world. Smooth, swift, effortless,
without jar or quiver, without apparent
motive power (for the oarsman is be
hind and out of vie*), it is a very bliss
of movement; like a bird’s flight, like a
darting fish, or, better still, like pro
gress by volition, turning, swerving tr
right, to left by the power of thought
Giacomo has poetry in his nature. H<
rowed softly, and did not speak to break
the spell of silence as we moved on.
Leaning over the tide o' the gondola 1
could see the swaying figure reflected
in the blue canal, a distinct red and
yellow shadow. On the other hand was
the sun, a ball of fiery gold floating in
an intense pink sky. The light was too
vivid ; I could not look, and closed ms
eves, but still the color pursued me and
danced in almost painful brilliancy upon
my brain.”
A pretty girl is employed to take up
the collections in a Springfield church,
and the receipts are very heavy. If a
strange gentleman hesitates about con
tributing, she t miles, nods and winks
in such a queer style that the victim
first flushes np to the roots of his hair,
and then makes a dive for his pocket
book, anxious to close the ioteiview as
soon as possible. All the young fellows
that know her think it worth fifty cents
a week to catch hrr beautiful broan
eje, and the women all pay because il
they don’t she ays “meanny” with her
lips, whi’e a look of inteate disgust
overspreads her face,
Sound Education.. —Dr. Johnson was
extremely averse to the present foppish
mode of educating children, so far as
to make them what foolish mothers
cad elegant young men. He said to a
ledy, who asked him what she should
teach her son iu early life : ‘ Madam,
t read, to write, to count; grammar,
writing and arithmetic ; three tilings
which, if not taught in early life are
seldom if ever taught to any purpose,
aod without the knowledge of which no
superstructure of learning cr knowl
edge can be built,”
EASTMAN TIMES.
BATES OF ADVERTISING:
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spacr. lra. sm. 6m. Him.
One square S4OO $ 7 00*10 00 9 18 0*
Two sqnares 625 12 00 18 00 25 00
Foursquares.. 975 19 00 28 0j 89 00
Outvfourth col 11 80 22 50i 34 00 48 00
One-half col 2o 001 39 SO 65 00 80 00
One column | 35 00l 60 oo! 80 00 130 <9
Advertisements Inserted at the rate of fIJSO pep
square for the first insertion, and 75 cents for ch
subsequent one. Ten lines or less constitute a
Bquare.
Professional cards, $15.00 R£r annum; for itx
months, SIO.OO, in advance.
SAYINGS AND DOINGS.
Little Rag-Tag.—
A curly, bright head, and perched upon it
Little Rag-tag of a brown sun-bonnet;
A pair of old shoes forever untied,
Whose soles have holes, whose toes grin wide.
Come sun or come shade, come shiue or come
rain,
To little Rag-tag it’s ever the same;
With an air of the most supreme content.
She paddles and plays till the day is spent.
Why people complain she never can see,
When God is as good as ever can be ;
She talks to herself, and laughs, and sings
About the world and its beautiful things;
But. though he is good to all of the rest,
She is very sure that he loves her best!
Oh, how much better this world would wag
If wo all had hearts like little Rag-tag!
Christian Union.
A Kansas hypochondriac, meditating
upon the death of a dog-fancier in his
neighborhood, gives vent to the mourn
ful thought : “ Our great men are pe
tering out sort o’ rapid like these times.
Whisky kills most of ’em ; some tum
ble overboard, and ’casionaily one gets
hung.”
Butlek county, Missouri, has the
most eccentric genius on record. He ia
now sixty-five years of age. At the age
of twenty-one he commenced to count
two billions. He has counted almost
incessantly ever since, and his task is
still incomplete. He says he wants to
count that number and die happy.
The Japan News gives currency to a
statement on good authority that Japan
ese criminals prefer being strangled to
being decapitated, and that, too, on re
ligious grounds ; the idea apparently
being that so long as the body is intact,
its resurrection will be possible, but
that when the head is once separated
from the body it may never be reunited.
The Sunny Soul.—
Ibere is many a rest on the road of lifo
If we would only stop to take it;
And many a tone from the better laud.
If the querulous heart would wake it.
To the sunny soul that is full of hope,
And whoso beautiful trust uo’er failetb,
The grass is green, and the flowers are blight,
Though the wintry storm prevaileth.
If the heat which a human being
gives off in twenty-four hours could,
consistently with life, be retained with
in the body, its temperature would, at
the end of that time, have reached 185
degrees Fall., a temperature above the
point of coagulation of albumen, and
nigh enough to cook the tissues.
A Pittsfield woman wants to wager
SSOO that she can walk fifty hours with
out rest or sleep. You may succeed,
madame, but it will not be as easy nor
half such a comfort to you as to lie
close to the side of the bed and jaw
and keep your husband awake that
length of time.
The prefecture of police of Toklo,
Japan, has issued the following circu
lar : “Any person in European costume
meeting his imperial majesty will be
obliged to salute the emperor by hold
ing his hat under liis left arm and low
ering his right hand to his knees.
Those who do not wear a hat will be
while bowing ie knees
Speaking of law books, a recent lec
turer on the subject said: “Another
peculiarity of these books is, that no
one but a lawyer ever reads them. All
other books have readers outside the
class for whom they are specially writ
ten ; and we have, accordingly, amateur
men of science, physicians, amateur
artists, and even amateur theologians,
but no one ever heard of an amateur
lawyer,”
On a Detroit sidewalk, the other day,
a portly man snatched at the surround
ing air for a second or two, and then
went down upon the icy bricks with a
force that shook his frame end made
him see stars. “Say,” remarked a
newsboy to bis companion who wit
ueseed the catastrophe, “that ’ere fel
ler’s a Free Mason ; didn’t you see him
giving the sign?” Inside of a minute
two boys were getting away, closely
followed by a boot.
A San Francisco husband denies that
the new chemiloon dress arrangements
are any improvement on the old stylo.
His wife has adopted it, and it takes
he r seventy minutes on an average to get
unharnessed at night, and en one occa
sion the numerous ludia-rubber straps
got into a snarl, and, suddenly aollaps
icg, caused her to perform a double
somersault, during which her head came
in contact with the eeiiiog of the room,
knocking her senseless.
Scatter thy life aa the Summer’* shower pouring,
What it no bird through the pearl ram is eoarnig ?
What if no blossom looks upward adorn-g !
Look to the life that was lavished for thee .
So the wild wind strews its perfumed caresses ,
Evil and thankless the desert it blesses;
Bitter the wave that its soft pinion presses,
Never it ceaseth to whisper and sing. f
What if the hard heart gives thorns for thy roses .
What if on rocks thy tired bosom reposes ;
Sweeter is music with minor-keyed closes,
Fairest the vines that ou ruins will cling.
Give as the heart gives whose fetters are break mg—
Life, love, and hope, ail thy dreams and thy wakmg,
Soon heaven's river thy soul fever shaking.
Thou shalt know God, and the gift that he gave.
The late vast accession of bonanza
wealth which Sm Francisco has en
joyed has led to the construction, by a
banking company, of a safe or vault
thirty feet long, twenty-five feet wide,
and nine feet high, in which to deposit
bonanza diippings. The lot on which
this monster treasury stands cost S4UU,-
000, and the safe $150,000. It required
a Irain of forty ca r s to trauspoit the
o'o from Canton, Ohio, to San Frai>
cisco. . , , n
Very stem parent indeed : Como
here, sir ! What is this complaint the
schoolmaster has made against youl?
Much injured youth : “It’s just noth
ing at all. You see Jimmy Hughes bent
a pin, and I only just left it on the
teacher’s chair for him to look a ,
he came in without his specs, am
right down on the pm. and new he
wants to blame me f° r “•
ENOmSH language ran
be acquired by foreigners will be understood alter
pl vf*7*nsfll of the following.] ,
WUe make me some dumplings of dough.
They’re better then meat for my cough;
Prav let them be boiled till hot through
But not till ttiey’re heavy or tough.
Now —I must be off to the plough,
And the bo}. when they’ve bad enough,
Must keep the flies off with a bougn, _
While the old mare drinks at the tlough.
Inside of the hat of a caHle thief re
cent’v arrested in Detroit were found
pasted the following maums : ' Re
member that truth is a jewel; do not
covet; respect old age ;be content with
what you have; live that men will tc-0.0
your character as an example.” Ia con
sider ion of tiris txcellent principles
governing the man’s life the jut go
kindly allowed him to retain the Dilated
slip containing them during his year’*
Roiouin 'U tb H penitentiary *