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The Neman Herald'
PUBLISHED EYEKT TUESDAY.
I, ||, CATES, Editor and Publisher.
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THE NEWNAN HERALD.
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WISDOM, JUSTICE AND MODERATION.
TERMS 50 per year in Advance.
VOLUME xxn.
UEWXA5, GEORGIA, TUESDAY, MARCH 8, 1887.
NUMBER 21.
>ur lives are albums, written through
With good or ill, with false or true.
A SACRIFICE.
cal -i
Til-- snows were drifting around the
the winds echoing among the
nak'-'l pines. Now and again a fierce
gu-it whirled up a drift, and dashed it, in
h u red flakes, against the unshuttered
I».iii**. Clouds, like birds of evil omen,
wt re scudding across the winter sky.
A, ii'Df tin* base of the mountain the
1 i of the little valley town flickered
Chilly, intensifying the darkness of the
iiit. rinodiato mountain trail.
She was a glorious creature physically;
wild and untamed as the Sierra wastes
that surrounded her. Darcy Breene's
1.1 ii** eyes caught a warm gleam as the}*
dwelt on her, j>oring over lx*>k and slate
i 1 the light of a pine fire. Red Ranch
glowering from the opposite
( n' t-, noted the glance, and clinched
),. i- Ch over a curse that was only half
stifled. Darcy’s eyes grow jierceptibly
warne r as the murmor reached him. It
was in the nature of the young fellow to
grow defiant under lire.
Sal closed her book with a sigli and
i- . slowly, her splendid figure, in its
plain, dark habit, outlined clearly against
flu In k-round of ruddy flame.
I in tbiiikm 1 cz bow ye’ll need sutliin
hot agin ye git down yonder, 1 ’ she said
f ■ Darcy, and took down a brown bottle
fi -rn the hanging cupboard, loosening
th" cork as she handed it to liim.
He accepted tin* Iwttle from her hand,
smiling into her glowing face as their
fingers met, and replaced it upon the
shelf from w hich r.he had taken it.
••None to-night, thank you,” he said,
ni'-aiiingly. **My heart is too warm as
it is. T' lhaps you know what hand has
already kindled the flame.”
The next moment lie had bidden her
good night, an 1 was struggling bravely
through the drifts without.
IW some minute* after tlie door had
cl<1 u;. in him there was silence in the
little c.min. broken only by the heavy
breathing of old Tom Enderly, enjoying
hi nightly drunken sleep in the adjoin
ing r<'mu. Sal, standing dreamily with
folded hands, and happy eyes fixed some
what wi lfully on the flames, sighed as
a i -u h c!a p upon li«*r arm recalled her
from 1 r reverie. She shuddered invol
untarily as : he turned to confront Bill’s
re nt t ul. surly face. It was such a con
tract to that delicate face, pale anil quiet,
that h
tul just
turned from her to the
Btormy
night w
it limit.
* 1 \\
■lint ter 1
know,” said Bill, huskily
—“I u
tint ter
know jest how long this
yor’s n
-goin’ te
r last?”
The
girl shn
nggcil her shoulders with
f«lig!K*(l
1 iinliffcr
enee.
This yer blizzard? Can’t say, I’m
sure. P’r’nps ye might tell better—on
tli’ road hum.”
lh d Ranch Bill’s great fist came down
like a liammor on the little table.
“Deni ye an’ yer sass! I'll—I'll kill
ye!”
She looked up nt him unflinchingly,
with scornful, fearless eyes. ITis face
soften"! suddenly.
•Sal. Sal.” he cried pleadingly, “don’t
rile me. - don’t ye Ik* hard on mo—don’t
ve! Quit this yer thing now, whar it Ik*.
Hum ter tli' ranch, ter th’ ranch ez hez
be n waitin' fur ye sense th’ night when
ye gov me th' word ez I’d lived fur, fur
three long year! Me nor th’ ranch don’t
ax no lamin', Sal. We only wants—
yersef!”
The girl shrank from his touch, brac
ing herself against, the chimney side.
Then* was a conflict coming, and she was
not sure just bow tierce a on" it might
Id*. The lire on the hearth was paling.
The glow on her face paled with it. and
died out.
-Bill.” she said, “I’m sorry ez how ye
wants me; I’m sorry fur thet thar word
c7 ye counts 1 gov ye. fur I can’t hold ter
it. 1 can't. I’m a-goin* ter ax ye ter let
nr go ye' don't want a gal ter th'
ranch ez ’ml hate it more 'u more ev'rv
day an' night. Don’t hold mo ter it.
Bill, fur 1 can't marry yo—I can't!”
Tears were in her voice, tears were
very near her eyes, but the unwonted
softness of her face was not of long dura
tion. for the man's arms were round her,
crushing her in their grasp; his tierce
eves burning her face.
“I ax ye one question,” he panted.
“Ik* ye tli* gal cz I've loved an' wanted
— th' gal ez is lit ter bo an honest man's
wife or lx? ye Darcy Breene's leavin's—
th* woman ez the schoolmaster hez
wronged?”
He read her answer in her steadfast,
unshamed eyes.
“So much th' wursen fur him,*’ he
muttered. “Ef he'd owed ye aught.
I'd hov let him live* to pay it. Now”
And More the girl realized that she
was free lie had flung her from him and
was {-.lunging madly down the trail.
She ran to the door, wringing her
Iran Is and sobbing despairingly, as she
vainlv called him back.
“Bill. Bill, kum hack! I wuz only
a-foolin' of ye! I’ll marry ye. Bill—I’ll
marry ye!”
The wild words echoed along the
mountain, and shuddered back to her.
lv»rne on the answering wind. For an
instant she yielded to her despair, totter
ing weakly against the open door. The
chill snows dashed in her face; an icicle,
snapped from the rafters by the wind,
fell upon her cheek, piercing sharply into
the soft flesh. The pain revived her.
Quich as thought, she ran to the hearth,
falling upon her knees as she threw aside
the rude bearskin rug, and groped along
until her hands jarred a loosened stone.
To lift this, seize the old fashioned purse
that lay lxmeath and hide it in her bosom
was the work of a moment. Then she
caught up a shawl, wrapping it tightly
about her head and shoulders and dashed
boldly into the bitter storm. Not down
the* trail. She knew a shorter way than
that! Five rods ahead of the cabin be
gan a sharp, natural descent, jjerilous in
summer sunshine, surely fatal now, in
the snow and darkness; a descent that
cliff by cliff shelved down to the highway
leading to the town. Lightly as a deer
she sped through the snowdrifts, sinking
upon hands and knees as she neared the
clifT. Then she freed her arms from
the restraining shawl, and without a
moment’s hesitation began the terrible
descent. Again and again she lost her
footing; again and fcgain her numb
fingers loosed their hold upon the ice
bound ledges. Once, hands and feet
played her false together. She felt her
self falling down, down, through the
darkness, with dizzy speed, while the
white rocks Hashed past her eyes, the
loosened icicles beat into her face. Half
way down the descent stood a single pine
tree- towering like some hoary giant in
its robe of ice. One of its boughs caught
her gown, held her in mid air for one
awful moment, then, crisp with frost,
broke of! sharply, crashing down with
her into a bank of snow. For a few
minutes, tliat seemed as many hours to
her, she lay with closed eyes, Bick,
dizzy, blinded. Then, bruised and bleed
ing. she resumed her awful journey, reck
less of pain or peril in her desperation,
hiding only that <$ach new* fall brought
her nearer te the man she loved.
As she leaped from the last crag down
to the snowy highway Darcy Breene's
lantern was just shining around the last
turning of the trail. She caught it from
him and hurled it upwards, its telltale
light vanishing within an extinguisher of
snow*. Then, as, sjy^echless with aston
ishment, lie stoad irresolutely, she seized
his hand and dragged him hastily towards
the town.
“Th* night freight ’ll lx* passin’ yer in
five minutes,’ she gasped, almost inco
herently. “It allers slows just thar, by
th’ junction. Fur God’s sake, fur life's
sak", board it. It’s yer only chance!”
The schoolmaster drew himself up de
fiantly. He was a slim, blonde fellow,
with girlish eyes and coloring, but he had
.a manly pirit under his effeminate ex
terior. He understood at once that her
jealous suitor had been working upon
SnB.i fears with some threat of violence to
him. But if his heart lx?at more quickly
at the Drought, it was not from coward
ice. lb* put his arm around the trem
bling girl and drew her to him. "With a
stili.*d cry she broke away, urging him
forward with all her remaining strength.
' quarter of a mile up the mountain she
bad caught the gleam of a lantern.
• Bill’:; a-goin’ ter kill yer,” she cried.
“He’s got his-shooter. Wot kin ve do
agin him?”
Dairy’s pantonymic answer was elo
quent. 1 fe flung off his coat and began
to turn up bis sleeves.
For on** moment Sal's heart despaired.
Then her woman’s wit came to her aid.
“Darcy.” she pleaded, “ye ain’t
a-goin’ t"r hack out now—ye ain’t—
ain't refusin’ ter kum—wi’m ?”
With her?
The man started and caught up his
coat hurriedly. Those last two words
opened a vista not unpleasing to him, in
his passionate, selfish youth. lit* went a
f"w sTcps forward and then hesitated.
Tin* little inherent good in his nature as
serted itself in this last moment.
“Sal.” he said, “do you know what
ou are asking? 1—1 have not done well
y you. but 1 never meant you—quite
•uch wrong—as this.”
A great sob welled up from th - girl’s
heart and strangled her. She put her
hands to her throat, wildly. Keener than
tin* bitter hi;i d.surer by tar than thewounds
from the icy lodge was the stab of those
repentant words. lie had never meant
to marry her. never—not even when his
words were softest, his eyes and heart
most warm! And this was the man fer
whom she had just dared death—the
lover whom she would have saved at any
cost. The thought of Bill—poor, rough,
loyal Bill: of his love, honorable, manly,
steadfast, which she had bartered—for
this! A sudden hitter resentment took
possession of her—to vanish as she looked
up and met Darcy’s soft blue eyes. Poor,
godless, untaught Sal! What chance had
she that love would not prove too strong
f < >r her?
“I love ye,” she whispered. “Wecan’t
never lx* free ’yer. Take me away,
Darcv—don’t leave me yer—ter Bill.”
Leave her to Bill! All the passion, the
jealousy, the dogged determination of
Darcy Breene's character, to carry
through at any cost whatever was most
opposed, was quickened by the words,
lie put on his coat, and turned toward
the junction, Ills hesitation all but nomi
nally at an end.
“I—I have so little, money!” he cried,
yieldingly.
“ Yer - mine; take it. take it! Ye kin
pay me back enny time.”
She forced the purse upon him, and
led him unresistingly toward the frosty
tracks, glittering at the cross roads.
“But my room—my things—I cannot
leave so!” He stepped, resolutely, as a
sudden remembrance swept over him.
“There is a picture,” lie said, a flush of
honest shame mounting redly to his brow
as be spoke; “it is under my pillow. I
don’t mind my other traps, but—I—must
—have—that!”
The whistle of the engine sounded in
the distance.
“Giv* me th' key! I'll git it fur ye!”
the girl cried, recklessly. —Go on: I’ll
fuller; and mechanically lie went for
ward. the blinding snow veiling her from
his sight.
She shrank hack against the white
rock and waited till the snort of the
coming engine could be distinguished
through the silence. Then she folded
her shawl about her. and sped towards
the tracks, in Darcy's footprints. lie
looktxl at her inquiringly as she reached
him. jianting. just as the long train
began to slow, and the engine puffed
jKist them.
-I've got it! G it on—They 're start in'!”
she crk\i. as the last car. an emigrant
coach, neared them.
He attempted to help her up. but she
pushed him W fore her, and jumped after
him. The wheels began to quicken.
“Darcy.” she sobbed, “kiss me!”
There.* on the icy platform, with the
wind sweeping around them, the snow
whirling in their faces, he «'pened his
arms and folded her in them^pressing a
hot kiss on her passionate, death white
face.
The next moment he was flung back
ward into the lighted car: the door closed
upon him. When he had leaped to his
feet and regained the platform, he was
alone, with the train racing along the
tracks at pitiless speed. And far behind,
by the tracks on the snowy roadside, alone
and defenseless in the bitter night, stood
Sal Enderby, and her heart in her face as
she held out her arms in a mute farewell
to the man her love had saved.
Ten minutes later she was in Darcy
Breene's room, groping her way to the
pillow under which rested the picture he
had refused to leave. She drew i* out,
and felt around for a match, a mad jeal
ousy in possession of her. The poi trait
that he could not part from—of whom
was it? A low fire* was burning in the
grate. She bent down eagerly, holding
the picture to the light of the flames. It
was a photograph of a girl—a fair, sweet,
gentle looking girl; and on the margin
was written in Darcy Breene's clear char
acters. “Sweetheart.” A faint sensation
swept over the girl. The flames dazzled
her, the picture danced before her.
“Sweetheart!” “Sweetheart!” And to
know it now. now in the hour when she
had risked her life to save him! She
staggered to the bed and fell across it.
face downwards, scorching tears gather
ing slowly in her wide open, unseeing
eyes. She did not hear the door ojien,
nor the quick footsteps that sounded in
the room.
-Kum out yer!” cried a voice,
iLfugmy. -I inn i a gom cer git ur oec-I
ter o’ ye unbeknownst. I’m willin’ ter I
fight ye f’ar an’ squar’, an' let th’ best
man win.”
The words reached her, but she did not
grasp their meaning. The long strain *had
brought its inevitable reaction, and she
had succumbed at last.
“Git up. thar. I say! No playin'
asleep 11 fool me! Ye're a coward ter
try it! Show up. like a man. afore I
count five, or I'll shoot ye fur tli’ dog ye
be! One!—two!—three!—four!—five!”
A sudden familiar sound recalled Sal
Enderby to a dim sort of consciousness.
It was a sound tliat she had learned to
know well during her life in that lawless
region—the click of a revolver, cocked
for action. Some faint, natural instinct
of self preservation impels her to open her
lips, but no word issues from them.
Twice she essayed to speak, and both
times vainly. Then she shut her lips
again, resignedly. Sweetheart! Sweet
heart! That cruel word was the only
one she had not forgotten. She was dead
to fear, to shame, to everything but the
sore agony in her heart.
There was a flash, a sudden, sharp re
port. a keen, stinging sensation in her
left side, piercing through to tli" beauti
ful white breast! The next moment the
light of a lantern flashed full in her face,
and. lying hack, faint unto death, with
something warm and dark trickling
through her gown and staining the white
counterpane, she saw the face of Red
Ranch Bill, drawn, ghastly, horror-
stricken. above her,
-Sal!” lie cried. “Oh, mv God! mv
God! Sal!”
The despair in his voice recalled her
from the lethargy into which she was fast
sinking.
“It'sall right, Bill—ye didn’t mean it,”
she said, softly. “It don’t—hurt half ez
much—ez ef—’t h'd lie'n—him!”
Her eyes closed, her lips paled. Bill
sink on his knees. burying his face in
her frosty, draggled skirt. Suddenly,
with a last effort, she raised herself in the
bed and held out the velvet framed pict
ure.
“Keep it—till Darcy Breenc—sends
fur it,” she gasped. “Don't take on,
I fill. I'm — glad — ter die — fur— his —
sake!”
Then her lips parted, her eyes glazed,
her bead fell forward, and the tragedy of
Ranch Village was played to its end.—
Minnie Gilmore in Frank Leslie’s.
Tbe Neman Herald.
PUBLISHED EYEKT TUESDAY
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Address all communications to
A. B. CATEo, Newnan Qa
THE BRITISH TRAMP STEAMER.
The Work of the Reporter.
A very large proportion of the work of
collecting and preparing news for a daily
paper can not. from the nature of things,
l>o performed by women. About half the
jiersons employed on a city daily paper
are reporters. They are likely to be sent
anywhere and everywhere by the city
editor at any hour of the day or night.
They .We obliged to visit places where the
foot of a modest woman should never
tread. They are forced to familiarize
themselves with crime and criminals.
They must attend horse races, sparring
matches, prize fights, “hanging bees,”
political conventions and other disrepu
table gatherings. They must follow en
gines to fires, run after the police patrol
wagon, mingle with mobs, witness dog
fights and “chicken contentions,” go in
disguise into secret meetings of Anarch
ists and be in attendance at police court
trials and coroner's inquests. Till women
abandon their womanhood they can not
become efficient newspaper reporters.—
Chicago Times.
How Is It in Europe.
Pending the discussion of the desira
bility of adding dynamite to red hot
stoves and oil lamps as a remedy against
,, , « , * . „ I UllcUtUU * IIUJLIil' Uiri.liiUiicU dlJU
the sufferings and tortures of being first the proccss carrie d on night
smashed and then slowly roasted m a day. and without any thought of re;
burning car, it might be worth while to
inquire why it is that the effete nations
of the old world never are under the
necessity of discussing means of speedy
death as a relief from the torture of rail
way casualties. Is it not somewhat sin
gular that among the played out denizens
of Europe bridges don't drop when trains
cross them; switches are not misplaced
when a lightning express is due; the pas
senger coaches never tumble down high
embankments and then catch fire and
roast their mutilated contents? Ilow do
they do things over there? It is true
that those people are effete, and worn
out. and passe, while it appears that
there is a point or two where they have
the advantage of us.—Chicago Times.
An Olrt Sf* Captain Tells What He
Knows About the Craft.
“The majority of ‘tramps' are built on
the share plan.” said an old sea captain;
“tliat is to say that any individual or
firm able to get together a sufficient num
ber of subscriber.- to the necessary capi
tal in from £3 to i'10 shares organizes a
company, securing for the trouble the
sole management of the vessel and hand
ling all the earning^ charging a commis
sion to the shareholders for managing the
ship, and in many instances themselves
not owning a single share. They are
satisfied with the commissions, which are
first deducted from the gross freight
earned. Whether the vessel makes ,
money for the shareholders or not tiie ‘
agent is always secure, aud takes care to
indemnify liimself in all cases.
“A registry of these vessels is published
annual!}', and a character assigned if paid
for which may or may not truly set forth
the real character or condition of the
vessel. Tliat tiiis certificate of good char
acter is not always to be relic 1 upon is
not by any means the fault of the staff of
surveyors, hut can be traced to the ras
cality of builders who, haring taken the
contract perhaps ruinously low, are
tempted to substitute unknown to the in
spector an inferior quality of metal, light
frames, insufficient or defective riveting,
or poor workmanship throughout. Or,
granted tliat the builder has faithfully
performed his duty, and that the vessel
has left the yard in a practically perfect
condition, it is after she has passed into
the control of the managing owner that
her unseaworthiness surely commences.
“The ship, now ready for business, is
chartered, for example, to load a cargo
of coal, and without any previous knowl
edge (except tiie somewhat theoretical
knowledge, perhaps, of the builder) as to
iiow the vessel may perform, she is loaded
as deeply as even the greed of the owners
can exact and started on her voyage. Jack,
who comes on board only after the ship
is loaded, and sees the dangerous manner
in which she is to be sent to sea. can but
shake his head, for the vessel is only down
to the Plimsoll mark, and the board of
trade surveyors will not in that case stop
the ship and compel her to be lightened
“Tiie Plimsoll mark is a mark which
is painted on the side of a vessel at her
lowest point of siieer, and is supposed to
denote the depth to which she may with
safety be loaded. Tiie distance between
this mark and the deck line (measured
on the side of the ship) is called the free
board. and by an act of parliament this
freeboard, expressed in feet and inches,
must lie entered upon the articles of
agreement lietween the owners and crew,
a copy of which must be always hung up
in the forecastle. Now, there is no law
that fixes the rule where this mark shall
he. but it is left to the owner to put it
where lie chooses. lie may, therefore,
give the ship as little or as much free
board us he sees fit. It is needless to sa\
that the universal rule is us little as pos
sible.
“Well. Jack being on board, the ship
proceeds on her voyage, overloaded and
shorthanded in many instances. Bad
weather is encountered; tiie ship, being
too deeply laden, cannot rise to the sea,
but wallows along through it, to the peril
of the deck fittings and the men obliged
to lie on the deck. The machinery being
new, there is not much danger of Iteing
disabled unless the gale increases to hur
ricane force, in which cuse, if the 6liip
survives, she is sure to come out of the
encounter minus some of her boats,
houses, bridges, etc., and perhaps badly
strained in tbe hull.
■ -The vessel having arrived at her des-
j tination is quickly discharged and loaded,
and
repair-
damages, except those absolutely
necessary. Should any of the boats have
been lost they will not 1* replaced until
she arrives at a home port. Should any
of her sails be blown away they will cer
tainl
o£ Aelita to serve as siea runners,
wus not so much coasting as a coasting
burlesque, so utterly ridiculous were
most of the methods employed to get
down tiie 'hill. The truth was that as
each boy happened along and caught
sight of the glittering path of ice he
threw himself upon it if he had a sled,
or. if he had none, he got the first thing
that came to his hand to sit upon. Night
after night this crazy coasting goes on
and thus far there is no news of any one
having lieen seriously hurt.—Albany Cor.
New York Sun.
What Arabia Is Like.
Thanks to those instructive works called
manuals of geography, and the valuable
infor. ustion of various worthy folk* who
have never seen any desert but Coney
Island, we all know pretty well by this
time what Arabia ought to be like. A
dreary, unending level of burning sand,
tastefully decorated with human skele
tons and milestoned with solitary palm
trees thirty leagues apart, each overhang
ing a “limpid well” (whatever that may
be), while hands of dusky robbers mounted
on horses possessing the singular property
of always going at full galop arid never
needing to be fed. scurry over the path
less waste in a style of clothing repulsive
to every right principled mind, living com
fortably where there is notliing to eat,
and amassing rich spoil where there is no
one to rob.
But these well ascertained facts are
rudely shaken when confronted with
Arabia as it is, which does not agree by
any means with Arabia as it ought to be.
The untraveled traveler sees with amaze
ment Arabian mountains several thousand
feet in height, Arabian valleys as green
and beautiful as the charming little glens
that lurk amid the black lava ridges of
Iceland. Arabian fortresses armed with
European cannon, Arabian coffee planta
tions worthy of the choicest districts of
Java and Brazil. Indeed, the whole
northern slope of the Coffee mountains of
Yemen is still as rich and productive,
even after centuries of Turkish misrule,
as in the far off days when Mocha was
the chief outlet of southern Arabia, little
dreaming that it should one day be as
magnificently useless as a London foot
man or the head steward of an ocean
steamer.—David Ker in New York Mail
and Express.
Tiie Sneezing Spot.
As a Journal representative sat in the
chair of a Maiden lane barber the other
day. the genial artist of tiie brush ob
served that the journalist sneezed when
his hair was comlied. “Did I toucli the
sneezing spot?” inquired the barber. He
then proceeded to explain that the “sneez
ing spot” was a sensitive place to the left
of the middle of the forehead. “Why,”
said he, “thereare men whocome inhere
who sneeze regularly every time I comb
their hair or shave them just as soon as
the comb passes over that spot. I had a
man in here yesterday who sneezed three
times just as hard as he could, all because
I touched the ‘sneezing spot.’ It must
he a very small nerve that tickles the nos
tril.”—Albany Journal.
President Monroe’s Property,
President Monroe, according to a re
cently published letter of his grandson,
was not overwhelmed with debt, finally
dying in poverty, as generally believed.
He says that hi3 distinguished ancestor
left large unincumbered real estate in
London county, Va., and personal prop
erty worth $40,000, which public records
show.—Chicago Tribune.
Nature is never in a hurry save when
in a destructive mood.—Maurice Thomp
son.
THE BALLET GIRL’S SACHEL.
The Fees Lecturers Receive.
Henry Ward Beecher has received
more money for lectures than any other
man on the platform record. He has
lxvn lecturing fur forty years, his fees
having increased from £.‘>0 to $200,
and the aggregate amount being estimated
at $230,000. Most of this money, how
ever. has been lost. Greeley paid for
Chappaqua by his lectures. Bayard Tay
lor cleared in tbe same manner $3,300 in
one season. Tilton used to deliver fifty
lectures in a season at $73 to $100. Josh
Billings had all the engagements he
wanted at $100, and left an estate of
$75,000. ail made after he had passed 40.
C hapin made $20,000 by his lectures and
Emerson got rich in the same manner.
Anna Dickinson was at one time worth
$13,000. all made by lectures, but it was
last through mismanagement.
Twain lias made between $23,000 and
$•’10,000 l»v his lectures.—New York
Mail and Express.
An Honest and Safe Escort—The Sachet**
Potver of Guardianship.
I am a night bird. Not that I sleep
by day, but I take my most precious
not lx? replaced, but the yards will j flights around when half the town lias
b*‘ sent ashore, and the vessel reduced to gone to bed. Tims my strolls usually
her fore and aft rig only, thus economiz- j i>ring me by the theatres when the cur
ing in spars, rigging and sails, and de- tain lias fallen and the back door is
priving the sailor of liis last chance for j slamming; when men with shaven faces
life in case of a mishap to machinery dur- dodge out and into the handiest saloons,
ing a heavy gale, or in the event of the ; and ladies with remarkable complexions
ship’s losing her propeller: As the tramp | take the arms of the dudes, who hang
steamers are now being rapidly reduced around the alley way or the curbstone,
in their sail power it is found possible to elegantly disdainful of the scoffs of the
man them with two hands less in the' mob. And I always halt a little way
crew, so that a vessel of 3,000 tons dead j bevond and watch the sacliels take the
weight capacity frequently carries only \ ballet "iris home.
six men before the mast, and of these it j great Dane or fighting bull dog
is safe to say that only two of the number j could be as honest and as safe an escort
are lit to lx* trusted at tiie wheel or on i as this sachel. The toughest lounger at
the lookout. j the stage door draws aside to give it
“As long as vessel and outfit are com- : passage. As it goes through the dark
paratively new she may live through byways the policemen nod to it and the
many a storm, but when the outfit is 1 vilest of the scum that floats upon the
worn out it is replaced, if at all. in the night tide of the streets eddies aside and
cheapest possible manner, ami as regards . leaves its passage clear. It brings its
repairs to hull, engines and boilers, they j charge into the street car, and the surly
are only made when there is absolute!}’ ; conductor, becomes civil. It takes her
no oilier way to get the vessel to sea, and through a mob of poor, foot weary
what may then happen concerns ^the wantons swarming at some dive door,
perfection of the sense in the two sexes,
and the same may be stated as regards
the sense of sight, which appears to bo
equally acute in women and men. In
Jhe extreme delicacy of taste it is proba
ble the’ men excel. As regards the sense
of smell, some exceedingly conclusive
experiments have been made by some
American savants which appear to sub
vert our preconceived opinions. The ex
periments were performed with prussic-
acid and other strongly odorous sub
stances on forty-four males and thij-ty-
eight females, and it was found that in
nearly all cases the sense of smell was
about double as active in men as in
women. The cause of the difference in
this matter between men and wo
men is quite unknown, as is the
object of the distinction: but it has one
practical bearing that may be borne in
mind. The employment of strong and
potent perfumes by women may depend
on their less acute sense of smell, and
they would do well to bear in mind the
fact that odors and perfumes which may
be quite pleasant to them may be almost
overpowering and decidedly unpleasant
to individuals of the other sex.—London
Queen.
The Mahdi’s Musicians.
The Mahdi’s musicians are the men of
the moment in Paris. They are about
fourteen in number, and, in their red
tunics, turbans and blue pantaloons, with
yellow stripes, they were taken by many
of the Parisians, who were enjoying
their Simday stroll, for an Ethiopian con
tingent of the Salvation Army. They
have come to Paris for the purpose of
giving some perfomances in the Eden
theatre with their national instruments.
The musicians belong to the Soudan and
were enrolled in the Egyptian army.
After Tel-el-Kebir they revolted and
joined the Prophet in the desert, but
were subsequently pardoned.—London
Telegraph.
Chinamen Who Can Row.
Some months ago I commented on the
fact that some of her majesty’s ships on
the China station were to a large extent
manned by Chinamen. In a regatta
which came off at Hong Kong just before
Christmas the Victor Emanuel entered
an eight oared galley, manned entirely
by Chinamen, who beat all the boats of
the squadron in capital style over a one
mile course. The Chinamen are said to
have rowed a longer and slower stroke
than any of their competitors, and their
boat has never been beaten yet. There
must be some good stuff in the Celestials
after all.—London Truth.
STILSO IT,
JEWELER,
55 Whitehall treet, Atlanta, Ga.
New and Full Lines of Watches, Diamonds, Jewelry, Silverware,
'locks, Canes, <fcc.
-? e< ‘ v Cl ’° is and New Store, hut m.v, as heretofore, R'liable Goods
k air Dealing and Bottom Prices. 52-26
W, G, Aycock,
WHITESBURG, GEORGIA.,
MANUFACTURER AND DEALER IN
Dressed and Matched Flooring, Ceiling and Rough Lumber, Laths,
.Shingles, all kinds of Mouldings, Sawed an l Turned Ballasters,
Brackets, Ac., Sash, Doors and Blinds.
V v Binds am wired with patent "liiudier wire machine, which never break loose,
•ormspqndeuce solicited and special prices riven on bills for buildings.
Write fo price lis. ami discounts on Sash, Doors and Blinds, Ac. 4-52
-Will Take-
Contracts or Superintend Buildings
In town or country at reasonable prices. ^^‘.Satisfaction guaranteed.
(>-26 B. F. KING, Newnan, Gra.
Railway Seat Spring.
A new form of railway seat spring has
been devised in England, and is highly
spoken of. The entire seat is carried on
a coiled spring of peculiar form, and is
free to move in all directions, so that
every jerk and oscillation that the car can
receive is perfectlv taken up.—Chicago
Herald. '
Adulteration of Pepper.
The city analyst of Liverpool finds that
pepper is largely adulterated with a
worthless material resembling ground
olive stones, which is imported from Italy
for the express purpose.—Arkansaw
Traveler.
owner to a very slight degree."—New
York Times.
THE CRAZE OF COASTING.
A Walk Refore Breakfast.
It is curious how ideas change with the
times. Not so many years „go it was
considered the most healthful thing in the
world to take a walk before breakfast.
• It is not only absurd, but dangerous."
said a well known physician, speaking on
this subject a few days ago. -The early
morning air is malarial and will cause
catarrh and lung troubles. If you can
avoid it never leave your house until the
sun lias warmed tiie atmosphere. Never
mind about seeing the sun rise: it will rise
without your assistance—take care of
your health and let the sun take care of
itself."— Philadelphia Cal!.
— IN SPRING-
Ah ’ when the robins make melodious
The twilight dusk, when scaly leaf buds swell.
When mosses in the swamps grow living green.
When downy catkins suit the willow well;
When golden warm the sunshine glows at noon.
When earth its bounty Danae-like receives,
When in the woods the Indian miskodeed
Hangs its pink bells above the last year’s leaves;
When blackbird concerts in the elm tree tops
Foretell the summer's carnival of song,
We ll smile and >ay, “Dear heart, the spring is
here:
And after all, the winter was not long.
So will it be when, life's long journey over,
Its storms all braved, its thorny pathways trod,
Some day of days, our eyes shall open
On the fair city built and kept by God
And gazing on its radiant spires and turrets,
And listening to the burst of heavenly song
We’ll smile and say: “Eternity is dawning.
And after all, dear heart, life was not long.”
Carlisle.
TJghtning Procession of Coasting
Machines—R id icu Ions Methods.
The other day Howard street liill was
Mark I ^ on either side with men and women
roaring with laughter. Strangers who
added to the throng and looked on some
times joined in the merriment, but at
other times held their breath at what
they saw. The boys had poured water
down the middle of the street and it had
frozen into a narrow roadway of silvery
ice. Along this slippery slanting path
there shot a lightning like procession of
coasting machines of sorts the most re
markable that were ever seen together.
First there would come half a dozen
fragile painted sleds, followed by an
errand boy in a soap box nailed to a
sled, with brown paper fluttering out
from under him to show that lie was
supposed to be delivering a parcel some
where.
Next came eight little urchins on a
piece of rough plank, firing as if they
■were falling from the clouds. Swiftly
pursuing the plank came a boy on the
lid of a trunk, a girl on a square block
i -f ice. a boy on a side of such a box as
oranges come in. with another boy
astride of his back, all flying down at
sixty miles an hour. Close upon these
came a j _ oung lady and a boy upon a
tolwggan. more painted sleds, another
i rrand boy on a soap - box. and. strangest
-led of all. a door mat. that had l)een
been wet and frozen stiff, bearing- a
ragged girl, revolving around and around
after the manner of a pinwheeL and yet
darting down hill like a flash.
But there were many other strange
sights to come. One was that of a boy
flitting by with nothing beneath him,
while close to his back came the square
block of wood that had slipped from
under him. Another boy slid along in
side a decrepit old basket, and one went
by like a swallow on a little piece of
wood under which he had screwed a pair
and they drop their ribald voices, and
here and there among them you may
note -a white, harsh face turned aside
and a swelling in a throat. It is, in
short, a badge of honesty and labor that
has gained a recognition for itself, like
the policeman’s badge or the fireman’s
uniform. As long as a ballet girl carries
her own sachel she is safe. It is only
when she gets a njaid to handle it for her
tliat her peril has begun.
It is a poor thing enough in itself.
Even when it is brand new it exhales an
odor of cheapness. A very little use
makes sad havoc with its symmetry, and
you often encounter it in a deplorable
state of collapse. But it is never so rickety
as to lose its power of guardianship. It
is stuffed with a pair of tights, a pair of
slippers, a wig, perhaps, and certainly
with some rouge aud drop chalk and
grease paint. 'What little costume goes
with these essentials is left in the care of
the wardrobe people at the theatre. Its
contents and herself are the ballet girls
chief professional capital, and every time
she closes it she wraps up in its stuffy
depths a dream of the day when Patti or
Bernhardt shall have a rival, and the
honest old sachel give place to a jewel
case and a Saratoga trunk to a villa at
Havre or a castle in tYales.
And why not, indeed? Did not Bern
hardt carry her sachel once, and Patti
not own a sachel to carry? What has
happened once may liappen again. What
place hi the world is there like the stage
for ambitions, romances and dreams?—
Alfred Trumble in New York News.
The Hebrew Race.
America has the best, tiie strongest,
the manliest, the handsomest specimens
of the Hebrew race. As you go east
ward in Europe you seem to approach
nearer and nearer to the Shakespearean
type. While the Jew in Austria-Hun
gary is through his financial power the
companion of the high social classes,
often of the nobility, and sometimes him
self ennobled, as a person in the lower
walks of life he preserves the humble
and submissive bearing which was until
late years everywhere his most notable
characteristic. The sufferance which
was the 1 tadge of all his tribe in Shake-
(jeare’s time continues to be his distinct
ive mark in the southeast of Europe.
The signs of it have almost disappeared
at Vienna since his fellows have not
only taken possession of the banks
and all the great corporations; but in
Hungary, in the Danubian principalities,
in Turkey and in Russia they are still
plainly visible.—Buda-Pesth Cor. San
Francisco Chronicle.
THOMPSON BROS.
Bedroom, Parlor and Dining Room Fnrnitnrc
Big Stock and Low Prices.
PAROR AND CHURCH ORGANS,
WOOD AND METALLIC BURIAL CASES
•p]6- lv
Orders attended to at any hour day or night.^^T
THOMPSON BROS Newnan. tfa.
G.Q. McNAMAKa
Milch Cows in the City.
There are 2,400 places in New York
where cows are kept to be milked for the
public benefit, and a health officer re
ports that “there are not fifty places in
the long list where a decent man can re
main five minutes without being made
sick.”—Detroit Free Press.
The man who knows the most never
tells it in a crowd.—Philadelphia Times.
The Senses ms Affected by Sex.
If the senses are taken seriatim it will
be evident that they are not parallel in
men and women. The latter possess in a
much greater degree the perfection of the
sense of touch; those occupations that re
quire extreme delicacy of manipulation,
such as lace making, embroidery, bead
stringing, etc., are therefore usually fol
lowed by women. As regards the Bense
of hearing, we are not aware of any ex
periments or observations on the relative
Paper Pipes.
In Vienna there were recently ex
hibited gas and water service pipes
made of paper. The same kind of
pipes will do for many factory pur
poses, and for laying electrical wi-es
etc., we should snppose it to be spe
cially useful. The^pipes according
to the Paper World, are made a
follows: Strips of paper are take
the width of which corresponds with
• he length of one pipe section. The
paper is drawn through melted as
phalt and wound upon a mandrel,
which determines the inner diame
ter of the pipe. When the pipe thu
nade has cooled it i pulled off the
mandrel and the inside is co vered
with a kind of enamel whose na
ture is kept secret by the makers.
The outside is painted with asphalt
varnish and dusted over with sand.
1' is stated that such a pipe will ve-
-ist some 2,WO pounds internal pres
sure, though the thickness of the
3‘uffisonly aei.ut halt an inch.
O’Kelley—Is it lireakin’ year long
■eekyez afiher in thedark? Dolan
—Sure art’ oi can’t foiud the mstch-
s. O’Kelley—Then sthrikea loight
nd luk for thim like a sinsible per
son.—Detroit Free Press.
NEWNAN MARBLE AND GRANITE WORKS.
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It Wasn’t His.—Miss Nellie, an
. uthusiastic dug fancier—“Is that
charming little bobtail yours, mon
sieur?” Monsieur—“Oh, no, mad-
■ moiselle; zat eez ze dog’s.”
Fannie—“Youforgotmy birthday,
Jack.” Jack—“I thought it was on
the first of April.” Fannie—“Many
iversons think so when they see my
husband.”—Boston Beacon..
IB^IFLIROlSr
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Hall Self-Feeding Cotton Gin Co.
SING BING, N. Y.
i lull 8elf-Feeding Cotton.Gin, Cotton Gn Feeder and Condenser, also a Hailing
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