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14
YARNS FROM GEORGIA.
STORY OF THE FARMERS' ALLIANCE
I\ DOliU OOD VALLEY.
How I nrle AN iirri flopped It"—%
Method of Drilling With Political
Novrlilrs Which Many People
Would hike to Imitate—l'll loft of
Y*lo>il Count) nnd the W liippinit
linker llliln't Give Him—The Mutt
Who Lived Over the State Line.
From the Philadelphia Times.
Calhoun. Ga„ July 3.—There was no
quieter and more conservative community
In the Georgia highlands than that corner
of Gordon county called Dogwood Valley.
But when the Farmers' Allian~e move
ment came along In the autumn of ISSS
It brought great changes. The Rev. Solo
mon Elkins, the local Methodist minister,
at once became an ardent supporter of the
new movement which was believed to
mark anew era not only in things social
and political, but to affect the operation
of the moon and stars. Rev. Elkins lost
no opportunity, in the pulpit and out, to
declare that the alliance was a divine in*
atitution, and as Moses led the children of
Israel out of Egypt, even so would the
Farmers' Alliance lead the good people of
Dogwood Valley out from the thraldotn
of the monsters who were supposed to run
the government.
Gradually, under the heat of Elkins’
preaching, the movement extended itself
to every ngok and corner of the valley.
Both men and women heartily allied
themselves to the organization, old peo
ple spoke of the alliance as the opening
chapter of some sort of millennium, and
aoon thu Dogwood Valley sub-alllance was
flourishing as the green bay tree. The
meetings were held at Ward’s school
Bouse at the cross roads, and here the en
thusiastic followers of Elkins congregated
every Saturday to discuss sub-treasuries
and free silver, and dwelt with great vol
ubility upon the coming time W’hen the
alliance should take entire charge of the
world and force the price of cotton up to
a dollar a pound. "Why,” Elkins used to
6ay, "this thing was foresaw by Daniel
an' all the prophets. The alllunce Is goin'
to take charge of the railroads an' fac
tories, an' we’ll make our own goods, an’
we'll make all the silver into dollars, put
passenger rates down like postage, so a
man can pay fifty cents an' ride a thou
aand miles, close up all the stores, put
these drummers an' merchants to work,
an' plow up the towns an’ plant them In
cotton."
But there lived In Dogwood Valley a few
•turdy old fellows who would have nothing
to do with the alliance. They were of the
hard shell Baptist faith, and in the lan
guage of Uncle Duggan Ward, the most
pronounced of their number, they Were
•'Dead agin' all these head secret orders an'
new-fashioned tomfoolery, which is con
trary to the scripture an’ common good
aihse."
Ward lived just across the road from the
school house, which he had been the lead
er in building. He would plow in his field
near by on Saturdays, and say to the al
liance men: “You fellel-s better go home
an’ work your craps, instid o’ settln’ round
heah blowin - ’bout pollyticks." In vain did
Elkins denounce Uncle Duggan and the
other hardshells as reprobates and infi
del*. They remained unmoved in their op
position, and one day when all the hands
on Ward’s place quit work and went to an
alliance picnic, Uncle Duggan announced
that ho intended to "squash the blamed
alliance.”
He went to Squire Hooper, the hardshell
Justice of the peace, and said: "I want to
have a newsance ’bated.”
“What kind of a nuisance do you want
to abaje?" asked Judge Hooper.
“Why, this ’ere blamed Farmers’ Al
liance. They have done got the country
plum demoralized, driv’ all th’ labor offen
my farm, an’ I want to prosecute them for
damages, an’ fur lunacy and a gineral new
aanee."
"Of course,” said the Justice, "If you air
’Willin' to swear the thing is a nuisance an'
demand a writ, I don’t see how I, as the
Jeatis of the Peace of the state of Georgy,
can refuse,” and in a short time a docu
ment was drawn up commanding the bai
liff "to proceed at once to Ward's School
House and to seize upon and arrest the
■aid Farmers’ Alliance, which was wont
to assemble there an’ create disturbances
contrary to the peace an' good order of the
Btate.
When the writ was handed to Bailiff
Perkins Uncle Duggan remarked: "Now
Just deputize me an’ the squire to help
you, an’ let’s go right down an’ clean the
thing out.” Preacher Elkias and a dozen
other leading members of the alliance were
Iholdtng a business meeting at the school
house when the posse approached, armed
with shotguns.
"Come out of thar," commanded the
halliff. "We’ve got a warrant for the
whole pile of you,” put in Uncle Duggan,
at the same time nervously fingering the
triggers of his shotgun.
“What dpes this outrage mean?” de
manded Elkins.
"Jest means simply that we’ve done
•listed this new'sance 'cordin’ to law,"
replied Uncle Duggan. “So jest git a move
on you,” and tHe shotguns were brought
Into position for action. In vain did the
alliance men plead and threaten and
swear. There was no making way against
buckshot, and the alliance men walked
out of the school house into the road.
The door was closed and locked by the
bailiff, and Elkins and his friends ordered
to jnov.e on down the road. "When a nuis
ance is abated,’ exclaimed Justice Hooper,
“it has to be moved out o’ the district.”
The alliance men were marched to the
district line, and told that they might re
turn as individuals, but Dogwood Valley
Farmers’ Alliance, as a body, had been de
clared a nuisance and moved out of the dis
trict. and any reassembling of the same
would be regarded as contempt of court
and subject all persons participating to
SSO fine and two weeks’ hard labor on the
public road.
Elkins at once moved away, the others
returned to the work of their farms, but
the alliance assembled no more at the
school house, and Dogwood Valley re
lapsed into Its pristine tranquility.
Among the early settlers of upper Geor
gia there were few more peculiar char
acters than J. C. Elliott of Floyd county.
He first made his appearance as a travel
ing preacher and book agent, but as the
demand for both books and religious in
struction was very limited at that time
Elliott entered the more flourishing busi
ness of horse swapping with an aptitude
that astonished the veteran swappers of
the county. He frequently became involv
ed in quarrels with other traders, and
these quarrels he promptly proceeded to
settle, after the most approved method
of the times, with his fists. Having suc
ceeded in whipping a well-known local
pugilist, Elliott at once assumed the role
of champion of Barker’s district. He nev
er missed a justice court nor a muster
day, and never failed to fight when op
portunity offered. He so severely drubbed
the belligerent individuals of the district
that every man’s hand was turned against
him. and various plans were formed for
revenge.
A notorious bully named Baker, who lived
in an djoining dlstrlct.expressed his readi
ness to go over and whip Elliott for $5.
The money was at once raised and the next
court day Elliott's enemies were on hand
to see the job well done*,
b Baker appeared, armed with a huge hick-
ory club. When Elliott rode up and
hitched hia horse Baker approached him
and asked:
"Is your name Elliott?”
"Yes. J. C., 1 sign It.”
"Well, Elliott, I have been paid $5 to
come over here and whip you.”
"Well?”
”J am going to earn my money.”
"You are not going to jump on an un
armed man with a maul like that, are
you?” askM Elliot, pointing to the club.
"I believe in fair play," returned the
other. "So go out there and cut you a
stick."
This was soon done, and when Elliott
returned with his stick he said:
"See here, my name is J. C., and I want
an understanding about this thing right
now.”
"All right.”
"Now, let each of us take his club in his
right hand and hold it up a* high us he
can reach, and when I count three drop
the club to the ground and take it fist
an l skull.
This was agreed to and both clubs went
up. Elliott counted slowly: ‘One—two—
t-h-r-e-e.”
At this the stranger dropped his club
and attempted to close with Elliott, who,
instead of dropping his club, struck hia
enemy a blow on tho head which felled
him at full length on the ground. Elliott
then pounced upon him, and the bystand
ers had to interfere to prevent the man
they had hired to whip Elliott from being
beaten to death.
No other attempt was made to whip El
liott, but his enemies began to take legal
steps against him, and every time he en
gaged in a fight a warrant was forth
coming for his arrest. As the witnesses
were always Elliott's enemies, he stood
but little show In the courts. He moved
across the line into Alabama, but this
did not mend matters. He was soon in
the court there, and in order to escape
these tribulations he built a house across
the state line. It was a long, low building
of logs, with the east end in Georgia and
the west end in Alabama.
When officers went to Elliott's house to
arrest him, all he had to do was to walk
into the next room and he was beyond
their jurisdiction. The Georgia officers
drove him into the Alabama room and
the Alabama officers drove him into the
Georgia room. As he was wanted for
nothing more serious than fighting, the
tedious process of extradition was never
resorted to, and for many years Elliott
escaped arrest by the peculiar location of
his house. At last the Georgia sheriff and
trte Alabama constable, acting in concert,
moved upon the house at the same lime.
Elliott finding his old scheme thwarted,
retreated to the middle of the house, and,
pluntlng one foot in Georgia and the other
in Alabama, defied arrest. The officers
resorted to various strategies to get him
on one side or the other, but to no avail.
Finally, the Alabama officer succeeded by
means of a grape vine in triplng Elliott
so he fell sprawling on the Georgia side,
and ho was immediately made a prisoner
by the sheriff.
SAMUEL AXD HIS COLT ROY’AL.
A Story of the Nov England llills
and a Virginia Battlefield.
From the Chicago Record.
Tho clay on which I was twelve years
old my father said to me: "Samuel, wulk
down the lane with me to the pasture lot;
I want to show you something." Never
susplcionlng anything, I trudged along
with father, and what should I find in the
pasture lot but tho eunningest, prettiest,
colt a boy ever clapped eyes on!
"That 1a my birthday present to you,"
said father. "Yes, Samuel, I give the colt
to you t 6 do with as you like, for you've
been a good boy and have done well at
school.”
Y'ou can easily understand that my boy
ish heart overflowed with pride and joy
and gratitude. A great many years have
elapsed since that time, but I haven't
forgotten and I never shall forget the de
light of that moment, when I
realized that 1 had a colt of my own—a
real, live colt, and a Morgan colt at that!
“How old is he, father?” I asked.
"A week old, come to-morrow,” said
father.
"Has Judge Phipps seen him yet?” I
asked.
“No; nobody has seen him but you and
me and tbe hired man.” '
Judge Phipps was the Justice of the
peace. Ihad a profound respect for him,
for what he didn't know about horses
wasn't worth knowing; I was sure of this,
becatise the Judge himself told me so. Ono
of tho first duties to which I applied my-
Belf was to go and get the Judge and
show him the colt. The Judge praised tbe
pretty creature, inordinately, enumerating
all his admirable points and predicting a
famous career for him. The judge even
went so far as to express the conviction
that in duo ymc my colt would win "im
perishable renown and immortal laurels
as a competitor at the meetings of the
Hampshire County Trotting Association,"
of which association the Judge was the
president, much to the scandal of his es
timable wife, who viewed with pious hor
ror her husband's connection with the
race track.
"What do you think I ought to name my
colt?” I asked the judge.
"When I was about your age," the Judge
answered, "I had a colt and I named him
Royal. He won nil the premiums at the
County fair before he was six years old."
Thud, was quite enough for me. To my
thinking, every utterance of the judge's
was ex cathedra; moreover. In my boyish
exuberance, I fancied that this name
would start my colt auspiciously upon a
famous career; I ix-gnn at once to thtnk
and to speak of him as thu prospective
winner of countless honors.
From the moment when I first sot eyes
on Royal I was his stanch friend; even,
now, after the lapse of years, I cannot
think of my old companion without feel
ing here In my breast a sense of grati
tude that that honest, patient, loyal friend
entered so largely into my earlier life.
Twice a day I used to trudge down the
lane to the pasture lot to look at the colt,
and Invariably I was accompanied by a
troop of boy acquaintances who heartily
envied mo my good luck, and who re
galed me constantly with suggestions of
what they would do If Royal were their
colt. Royal soon became friendly with us
all, and he would respond to my call.
Whinnying to mo as 1 came down the lane!
as much as to say: '“Good morning to you,
little master! I hope you are coming to
hava a romp with me." And. gracious!
howlffc would curve his tail and throw up
liiv head and gather his short body to
gether and trot around the pasture lot on
those long legs of his! He enjoyed life.
Royal did, as much as we boys enjoyed
Naturally enough, I made all sorts of
for .Royal. I recall that, after I had
been on a visit to Springfield and had be
holden for the first time the marvels of
Barnum's show, I made up my mind that
when Royal and I were old enough we
woujd unite fortunes with those of a cir
cus, ' and in my imagination I already
pictured huge and gaudy posters announc
ing the blood-curdling performances of the
dasbfng bareback equestrian, Samuel
Cowles upon his fiery Morgan steed, Royal!
This plan was not at all approved of by
Judge Phipps, who continued to insist
that it was on the turf and not in the
sawdust that Royal's genius lay. and to
this way of thinking I was finally con
verted, but not until the Judge had prom
ised to give me a suikv as soon as Royal
demonstrated his ability to make a mile in
2:40.
It is not without a sigh of regret that
in my present narrative I pass over the
five years next succeeding the date of
Royal's arrical. For they were very hap
py years—indeed, at this distant period.
THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, JULY 14, 1595.
I am able to recall only that my boyhood
was full, brimful of happiness. 1 broke
Royal myself: father and the hired man
stood around and made suggestions, and
at times they presumed to take a hand
In the proceedings. Virtually, however. I
broke Royal to the harness and to the
saddle, and after that I was even more
attached to him than ever before—you
know how it is, if ever you've broke a colt
yourself.
When I went away to college It seemed
to me that leaving Royal was almost as
hard as leaving mother and father; you
see the colt had become a very large
part of my boyish life—followed me like a
pet. dog, was lonesome when I wasn't
round, used to rub his nose against my
arm and look lovingly at me out of his
big dark, mournful eyes—yes, I cried
when 1 said good-by to him the morning
I started for Wilitamstown. I was
ashamed of it then, but not now—no, not
now.
But my fun was ail the keener, I guess,
when I came borne at vacation times.
Then we had it up hill and down dale—
Royal and I did! In the summer time
along the narrow roads we trailed, and
through ieafy lanes, qnd In my exultation
1 would cut at the tall weeds at the road
side and whisk at tho boughs arching
overhead, as If I were a warrior mounted
for battle and these other things were
human victims to my valor. In the win
ter we sped away over the snow and Ice,
careless to the howling of the wind and
the wrath of the storm. Royal knew the
favorite road, every Inch of it; he knew,
too, when Susie held the reins—Susie was
Judge Phlps’ niece, and I guess she'd
have mlttened me if it hadn't been that
I had the finest colt in the country!
Tho summer I left college there came to
me an overwhelming sense of patriotic
duty. Mother was the first to notice my
absent-mindedness, and to her I first con
fided the great wish of my early manhood.
It is hard for parents to bid a son go forth
to do service upon the battlefield, but New
England In those times responded cheer
fully and nobly to Mr. Lincoln’s call. The
Eighth Massachusetts cavalry was the
regiment I enlisted in; a baker's dozen of
us boys went together from the quiet littls
village nestling In the shadow of Mount
Holyoke. From Camp Andrew I wrote
back a piteous letter, complaining of the
horse that had been assigned to me; I
wanted Royal; we had been Inseparable In
times of peace—why should we not share
together the fortunes of war? Within a
fortfiight along came Royal, conducted in
all dignity by—you would never guess—by
Judge Phipps! Full of patriotism and cheer
was the judge.
"Both of ye are thoroughbreds," said he.
"Ye'll come In under the wire first every
time, I know ye will.”
The Judge also brought me a saddle blan
ket which Susie had ornamented with w on
drous and tender art.
So Royal and I went into the war to
gether. There were times of privation and
of danger; neither of us ever complained.
I am proud to bear witness that in every
emergency my horse bore himself with a
patience and a valor that seemed actually
human. My comrades envied me my gentle
stanch, obedient servant. Indeed. Royal
and I became famous as inseparable and
loyal friends.
Wo were in five battles and neither of us
got even so much as a scratch. Hut one
afternoon In a skirmish with the confeder
ates near Potomac Mills, u bullet struck
mo In the thigh, and from the mere shock
I fell from Royal's back into the tangle
of the thicket. The fall must have stunned
me, for the next thing I knew 1 was alone
deserted of all except my faithful horse.
Royal stood over me, and when I opened
my eyes he gave a faint whinny. I hard
ly knew what to do. My leg pained me
excruciatingly. I surmised that I would
never be able to make my way back to
camp under the fire of the confederate
pteketers, for 1 discovered that they were
closing in. Then it occurred to me to pin
a note to Royal's saddle blanket and to
send Royal back to camp, telling the boys
of the trouble I was In. The horse under
stood it all; off ho galloped, conscious of
the Import of the mission upon which he
had been dispatched. Bang-bang-bang!
went the guns over yonder, as if the sharp
shooters in the far-off brush guessed the
meaning of our manoeuvering and sought
to slay my loyal friend. Hut not a bullet
touched him—leastwise he galloped on and
on till I lost sight of him.
They came for me at last, the boys did;
they were a formidable detachment, and
how the earth shook as they swept along!
"We thought you were a goner, sure,"
said Hi Blxby.
"I guess I would have been If It hadn't
been for Royal, said 1.
"I guess bo, myself,” said he. "When we
saw him stumblin’ along all bloody we al
lowed for sure you was dead!"
“All blood?" I cried. “Is Royal hurt?”
"As bad as a hoss can be," said he.
In camp we found them doing the best
they could for him. But it was clearly
of no avail. There was a gaping, ragged
hole in hia aide; seeking succor for me,
Royal had met his death wound. 1 forgot
my own hurt; I thrust the others aside
and hobbled where he lay.
"Poor old Roy.” I cried, as I threw my
self beside my dying friend and put my
arms about his neck. Then I patted and
stroked him and called him again and
again, by name, and there was a look
in his eyes that sold me he knew me
and was glad that I was there.
How strange and yet how beautiful It
was that in that far off country, with
my brave, patient, loyal friend’s flutter
ing heart close unto mine, I neither saw
nor thought of the scene uround me.
Rut before my eyes came back the old,
familiar places, the pasture lot, the lane,
the narrow road up the hill, the river
winding along between great stretches of
brown corn, the aisle of maple trees, and
tho fountain where we drank so many,
many times together—and I smelled the
fragrance of the flowers and trees abloom
and I heard the dear voices and the sweet
sounds of my boyhood days.
Then presently a mighty shudder awak
ened mo from this dreaming. And I cried
out with affright and grief, for I felt that
I was alone.
A SNAKE'S SUICIDE.
Wound Its Body Around Its Head
and Crushed Itself to Death.
From the Philadelphia Press.
Parkersburg, W. Va., July 4.—Several
days ago several young men who were
fishing near Glenville succeeding In cap
turing a tremendous blacksnake, which
measured fully eight feet In length. They
tied a string about the snake's neck and
dragged it into Glenville as a curiosity.
The snake was turned over to the boys,
who tormented it until the snake was crazy
with rage, by letting it go the length of
the cord and then dragging it back.
At last the snake wound Itself about the
body of a cherry tree, and as It climbed
up the boys released the tension on the
string. When the reptile reached the first
good sized branch It drew its head along
the limb afoot or more, and then almost
as quick as lightning it turned its folds
about the limb and its neck and head, and
then compressed them until It burst its
head, preferring suicide to a death by tor
ment.
Her Answer.—"Be mine,” he whispered.
Something in the summer girl's man!
Her warned him that he was no good.
“Don't say,” he hastened to addr "that
you are not old enough to accept me.”
"Mr. Blathers," said the maiden. “I
had not tho least Intention of saying that
I was not old enough to accept you. I
was about to remark, in fact, that I was
old enough not to accept you,”— Indianap
olis Journal, ’
WOMEN DON'T DIVE WELL
BIT THEY' SHOULD AT LEAST KNOW
HOW TO SWIM.
If Fear la Once Overcome the Art Is
Easily Acquired—'The Bathing salt
Should Not Be Made of Heavy Ma
terial.
From the Chicago Record.
I learned to swim when I was 4 years
old, and I remember It perfectly. It was off
the coast of Florida; my mother sat In
a rowboat, holding me by the back of my
little cotton skirt, the only garment I
wore. I would kick and splash In the cool,
green water, sometimes delighted, some
times shrieking at the top of my small
lungs because the salt water would get
Into my mouth.
But I quickly learned not to be afraid of
the water. The depths In which my mother
held me were shallow, and the sand, as is
usual on that coast, glittered white and
firm a yard’s length below the surface.
This was not swimming in Its enlarged
sense, but It was the rudimentary actions
which many girls learn after they are in
their teens and many more never learn at
all. The legs and arms soon began to go out
in the prescribed rules, which teachers call
the art of swimming. With me it was sim
ply a natural law—the one of self preserva
tion. In a few years, when the legs and
arms grew stronger, my mother would
place me a yard or two from her and say:
"Swim to me.” With the instinctive faith
that she would catch, did I begin to go un
der, I would strike out and swim to her In
some sort of fashion. This was the way I
learned to swim. I knew no method, had no
theory; knew only that usually I didn't
sink, that my motions propelled me
through the water. No natatorlum but the
great bay, no scientific teacher, only a wo
man who had learned to swim even as I
was doing; no life preserver but my moth
er's hand laid under my stomach when the
distance was lengthy.
Then I remember when my uncle used to
sail up close In to shore in a small catboat,
where I was swimming, and glvo me a
tow. I would catch the tow line he would
throw me, and, holding on for dear life,
go scudding along through the waves
near In shore, behind the sailboat. This
was exhlliaratlng and exciting. For the
spray would dash into my face, the move
ment was so rapid.
Timidity is an unsurmountable barrier
to good swimming, be your art ever so
perfect. This Is why, in all probability,
women never make the fine swimmers
men do. They are born with less physlcul
confidence.
I have known a woman to swim along
with the greatest assurance, because she
thought a hand was held under her, which
in reality had been removed some time.
When she found this out she sputtpred and
sunk. 1 have also known worn n to swim
easily when they knew that by standing
their feet Would touch bottom. Get them
beyond their depths and nothing could in
duce thorn to swim a stroke.
Swimming should be a necessity, not an
accomplishment. A girl once said’ that be
cause she ran to the end of a short wharf
Jumped off into thirty feet of water and
s wam back to shore she was a nine days'
wonder at the hotel. Yet there w r ere sev
enty-five mon in the house, all of whom
could do the same thing, thinking it only
child's play.
Women go year by year to the seaside,
but do they learn to swim? How many of
them can go with men beyond the break
era? Singularly enough, city women are
far better swimmers than their country
or coast sisters.
How often is it the case that a little ur
chin will be thrown from the side of a boat
and told to swim? Why, they take to it as
naturally as an alligator. To begin with,
they never seem to have any instinctive
awe of the water. For them no hidden
stumps, undertows, oyster beds or tang
ling seaweed hold any terror.
When fear is eliminated good swimming
is Invariably the result. After all, it may
be materially a question of strength, this
marked difference In the ability of the
sexes to swim. A boy Jumps into unknown
depths, trusting to his strength of muscle
and sinew to pull him through.
A woman has no such quality on which
to depend. She knows her back is weak,
her arms more like cotton than steel. It
is this inherent Consciousness of weak
ness that makes her shrink, although she
couldn't probably define the reason of the
feeling.
There is this peculiarity about a wo
man's swimming—she will either swim dog
or frog fashion, the former being the eas
ier, the latter the correct way.
A woman rarely, if ever, uses the over
hand stroke to any advantage. There are
women known to have done so, but they
find it impossible to keep It up or make
any progress. All men use It, to the exclu
sion of other methods. That it is swifter is
shown, as swimmers all adopt it In racing.
This may be another reason why all women
swim slowly. The arm In this stroke is
brought backward, then over the head and
plunged forward, the shoulder being en
tirely out of the water at each stroke. This
motion seems to precipitate the body
through the w’aves, the action being rarely
graceful but forceful. It Is exactly as if one
were pulling himself through the water by
means of taut rope.
I lately asked a physician why it was
that women never make use of this stroke.
He answered that these powerful strokes
were made by means of the muscles
across the chest. In a man these muscles
arc strongly developed, giving to the arms
their whole strength. For a woman the
bosom takes the place of these sinews,
cutting off the means of her ever making
this stroke of any use to her.
Again, u woman Is rarely a good diver,
even though she Is an expert swimmer!
Physicians explain that this is owing to
her weak back. She does dive in a sort ot
fashion, standing on a slight eminence
and gracefully inclining herself head
downward into the water. Even this is
Indulged in by only a few. A woman
dreads giving herself up to space in this
inverted attitude. Simply because her
back may play her false or the blood rush
to the brain.
Now, a word ns to bathing suits. Wo
men enter the race handicapped by the
garments they wear. Does a runner put
lead into his stockings when he races?
Flannel is the heaviest kind of cloth, and
yet the women cling to it as a bathing
suit. A stockinet garment that comes
from heel to shoulder, so that the weight
is taken off the waist, Is the best. Over
that a long Russian blouse of black wash
silk or alpaca, and short sleeves. Then
every muscle can work easily and natur
ally. The blouse throws off the water, re
mains light and the swimmer has no extra
weight to contend with.
Wear a suitable bathing suit, cultivate
judgment and there is no reason why any
woman shouldn’t learn to swim. These
two requirements once saved a woman
who couldn’t swim five strokes. She was
in a row boat, and was run down by a
steamer, overturned and the boat roiled
over her. She had on all wash silk gar
ments, and judgment enough to keep her
mouth closed. This latter act excluded
the water, thereby making her body buoy
ant.
When she came to the surface she used
her five strokes, caught hold of the boat
and pulled herself in. The boat began to
sink and she stood up In it, forgetting that
every Inch of her body out of water meant
so much dead weight. The boat beiug of
wood would not have sunk below the oar-
locks If she had sat still, for the pressure
of the water around her body would have
relieved it of her weight. Lo. over went
the skiff, but at that moment a boat con
taining gome of the crew from the steam
er came along and saved her. But had she
known how to swim think of the danger
she would have been spared.
That a natatorium should be connected
with every large school for girls is a mat
ter of prime importance. It may be be
yond woman's power, from physical rea
sons, to ever equal men as swimmers, but
it should be her duty, at least, to learn all
she can of the art.
PANTHER HOLLOW'S GHOST.
An Unearthly Thing, With the Body
of a Bird, the Head of a Woman.
From the Pittsburg Dispatch.
“ 'Panther Hollow,’ why don't they call
It ‘Phantom Hollow,’ " said a man to me
the other evening. I met him coming up the
path near the deer pen, and a whiter faced
man, or one displaying all the evidences of
terror, I never saw before in my life.
Thus spoke one of the Schenley park
policemen a few days ago.
“I asked the man what he meant.
‘Mean,’ said he, ‘if you had seen what I
Just saw, you wouldn't ask me what I
meant. It is a ghost, man, and such a
ghost as you don't read about, either,'
and his words showed that he was neither
crazy nor talking idly. He meant every
word he spoke, and he was in deadly earn
est.
“ ‘What kind of a ghost is this which
you saw ?’ I asked.
‘‘l never heard of anything like it, and I
have seen a good deal of the world and
also have read much. This thing has the
bodv of a bird, the head of a woman, it is
awful,’ and he trembled so that 1 really
felt a pity for him, and began to take a
lively Interest In his story, for Panther
Hollow Is one of the places on my beat, so
I asked him to describe what he had seen
more minutely, but this he was evidently
not In shape to do, as after a few attempts
he was taken with such a paroxysm of
shaking arid quaking that I thought sure
the man was suffering from an attack of
the ague.
“ 'No, I am not sick,' he said in reply to
my questioning look. ‘lt’s nothing but fear
that makes me tremble so, and I'm going
to get out of here as fast as I can,' and be
fore I could retain him he was gone, run
ning down the road toward the entrance.
‘‘Now. Imagine, if you can. what a pretty
circumstance I was placed In. Here it
was after 9 o’clock in the evening, and me
alone and Just about to enter the hollow,
where this man had said he had seen an
uncanny thing in the shape of a ghost
with the body of a bird and the head of
a woman. I am not a superstitious man,
by any means, but you cannot Idame me
when I say that I felt Just a little queer
about what I heard. A ghost, even though
you don't believe in their existene, is not
a very pleasant thing to be thinking about,
and that, too, in a locality as lonely as
the hollow is in the night, and you all
alone.
“I must confess that I went into that
hollow feeling not as easy and comforta
ble as I usually felt while on my beat, and
1 took a tlrmer bold of my stick, and at
the same time I felt that my pistol was in
shape for Instant use. Feeling rather
shaky 1 thus entered the hollow, walking
directly down the steep path that leads
from the deer enelosure. However, as I
proceeded my courage began to return and
the more I thought about that half-bird,
half-woman thing, the more I began to
think it was absurd to give the matter a
second thought.
“However, I soon had reason to change
my mind, and to become a strong convert
to ghosts. Seeing is believing, and when
you hear me describe what I saw you will
not wonder that from a scoffer at things
supernatural I became a devoted believer.
“I had got to the lower end of the 'hol
low,' just above where the professor
walked across on his wire rope on the
Fourth, when I was startled by a strange,
soughing sound, as of pine trees being
stirred by the winds. Vou see I used to
work in the pine woods up in Michigan,
and you cant’ fool me on the sounds of
pino trees when a breeze is stirring
through the leaves. I stopped, amazed,
for, as you know, there are no pine trees
to amount to anything in the park. As
soon as I stopped I heard the sounds
plainer than ever. It seemed to come
from a point right over my head. I tell
yon I felt a little bit weak in my knees,
when I heard that sound again, knowing
that there was no pine tree within half a
mile of where I stood, and yet there was
that sound. There was no mistaking it. I
looked all around, up and down and in
every direction, and all the time that
grewsome sound grew louder and seemed
to Increase in Intensity. It finally became
so pronounced that I almost seemed to
feel it. I pulled out my gun and cocked
it, not knowing what might happen next,
and then I waited. The sound kept right
on, increasing in volume, until the entire
woods about me were full of it.
"The next thing I noticed was a swlsh
ing as of some large body through !he
air directly over my head. I turned with
a start and looked up, but saw noth
ing, although the swishing sound was re
peated louder than before, I continued
to look skyward, and thought I could
just see the outlines of something that
looked like a bird high up among the
treetops above my head. I was not sure
about this, however, until the thing,
whatever it was, came closer to me with
a slow, steady motion, as though it was
being let down slowly with a wire. Then
its outlines, which werfc faint and indis
tinct at first, became plainer, and I saw
that it was really a bird, but of mon
strous size. I raised my revolver and was
about to fire, thinking that maybe it was
an eagle, when the thing spoke—yes, sir,
actually spoke to me. saying simply:
‘Don’t.' And I didn’t.
“I suppose it meant for me not to fire.
Anyhow, 1 hadn’t nerve enough left after
that thing spoke to me to have raised my
finger.
"It kept on coming closer to me all the
time, and then I discovered that the
soughing sounds I had heard and which
so closely resembled the wind going
through pine trees, were made by the mo
tion of the wings of the thing as It moved
through the air. I now saw another
thing. The bird, or whatever It was, was
was as white as a snowdrift. As It cam*
closer to me I saw still another strange
and uncanny thing, and one that did
not make me feel any the easier, and
that was that the bird had the head of a
woman.
"The story of the man at the edge of
the 'hollow’ told me now flashed to my
memory quick as lightning. Here was
the ghost he had seen; half bird and half
woman. Was it a ghost?
“I determined to find out by a certain
test. By putting a bullet through it. de
spite Its warning ’don't,’ and with the in
spiration I fired at it with my revolver.
"Besides the echoes of the report,which
rang through the hollow with unearthly
clearness, the only other sound—and may
I never hear another like it—was a scream,
loud and shrill, piercing, chilling my blood
with the agony it expressed.
"Had I killed the thing? I looked up.
It was still there in the air above me, but
now so close that I could plainly distin
guish the feature® of its face.
“It was of a beautiful woman, but with
a sadness chiselled on it that I can never
forget. Her eyes Were large, mournful,
brown and graced by the longest lashes It
has ever been my lot to behold.
"When I beheld that face, with a beauty
that must have been heaven-born, all my
courage returned to me momentarily, un
til I got another glimpse at the bird-shap
ed body. It was so utterly repulsive, so
out of consonance with that etheral face,
that my courage fled in an instant and i
found myself trembling in spite of the re-
assuring look on that face, which was now
so close to mine that I felt the warm
breath coming from between the lips.
“ ‘Why did you shoot?’ was the question
I heard, though I could see no motion of
the mouth.
"I was too badly rattled to remember
Just what I answered, for the next mo
ment the apparition was gone. I did not
even see it disappear, and how it went is
a mystery to me. I heard only the swish
ing of its wings, but that was aIL Wheth
er it went up into the air or sank down
through the ground, is beyond me; I only
know that it went away and left no trace
of its geiag behind.
"Go In those woods again? Not for a
million dollars.
crib or coffinT m
>Z'
From the Washington Post.
Young Jones stood In the telegraph of
fice; the one at Fifteenth and F streets.
There was an air of triunjph about Jones;
an air of Insolent sagacity which might
belong to one who by some sudden skill
ful sleight had caught starling. Yet
Jones’ victory was in nowise uncommon.
Others had achieved it many a time and
oft. It was merely a baby; young Jones
had become a papa, and It was this which
gave him Ihose frills which we have
chronicled.
The presence of young Jones in the tele
graph office might be explained by looking
over his shoulder. This is the message he
wrote:
Col. William Hardin,
Mossback, Posey Coil.tty, Indiana.
I still take it you are interested in the
census of your family. Recent events in
Washington have altered the figures. Do
not attempt to write a history of the Jribe
of Hardin without consulting
Sanford Jones.
"There,” said young Jones, "that ought
to fetch him. He won’t know whether 1
mean the birth of a baby or Mary's death.
If he doesn't come to see us now I'll mark
him off my list for good. I would, as it
stands, if it weren't for Mary.”
"But won’t father worry, dear?” asked
Mary when young Jones repeated to her
the ambiguous message he had aimed at
his Posey county father-in-law.
"I expect him to shed apprehensive tears
all of the way from Mossback to Washing
ton," replied young Jones. “But don’t
fret, Mary. I'm sure he'll come; and a
tear or two won’t hurt him, and will help
his eyes, even though it do his heart no
good. I don’t resent his treatment of me,
but his neglect of you is not so easy to
forgive.”
11.
This was the story: Back ten years
Posey county would have shown you
young Jones opening his law office In
Mossback. Mary was Mary HardiiY'
then, and seventeen years were all which
the family register allowed to her for age.
Her father. Col. William Hardin .was
one of the leading citizens of Mossback
While not a millionaire, he was of suffi
cient wealth to dazzle the eye of Posey
county; and he was always mentioned by
the denizens there of as "rich.”
Col. William Hardin had a weakness,
lie was a slave to the pedigree habit.
Never a day went by but he called some
body's attention to those celebrities who
afore time founded and perpetuated the
house of Hardin, and he proposed at
some hour in the future to write a history
of that eminent family.
With his wealth and his family pride
to prompt him it came easy one day for
Col. William Hardin to object with de
cision and vigor to a marriage between
young Jones and his Mary. They were
both fools, he said. Then he pointed out
that the day would never dawn when a
plebeian like unto young Jones; without
lineage or lucre; boasting nothing better
than a law office vacant of practice and
on which the rent was in arrears three
months would wed a daughter of tho
house of Hardin. Col. William Hardin in
elaboration of his objection showed that
beyond a taste to drink whisky and a
speculative bent toward draw poker, he
knew of nothing which young Jones pos
sessed. Col. William Hardin closed as he
began with the emphatic announcement
that no orange blossoms would ever blow
for the nuptials of young Jones and Mary
Hardin.
Col. William Hardin in his attitude will
have the Indorsement of all good Chris
tian people. He was right as a father.
Asa prophet touching upon orange blos
soms, however, he was what very vulgar
souls called "off his trolley.” Of that
anon.
111.
Young Jones more than half believed
Col. William Hardin was right. So far as
whisky and draw poker were concerned,
he went with him. But In Coi. William
Hardin's objections to him, based on a lack
of pedigree and a failure of poclietbook,
he did not sympathize.
"I may be poor, and my family tree may
be a mullein stalk but I am a fitting mate
for any member of the Hardin tribe.”
This spake young Jones to Col. William
Hardin. He then took the earliest private
occasion to kiss Mary good-by, give her
his picture, and make her his promise to
wed her within five years.
"Would she wait?"
"I would wait a century,” said Mary.
Young Jones kissed Mary again after
that. The next day Mossback was short
one citizen. That citizen was young Jones,
Mossback is short to this day.
IV.
Let us drop details. Good luck came to
young Jones, hard on the lonely heels of
his excavation of Mossback. He was named
head of a bureau in Washington. His sala
ry equalled his hope. He dismissed whisky
and poker, and he wrote to Mary Hardin.
"Could he claim her now?”
Col. William Hardin said "no.” Young
Jones still lacked ancestry; and a taste
for whisky and four aces still lurked in
his make-up. Col. William Hardin would
not consent. This served for a time to abate
the brdal preparations.
V.
Three years deserted the future for the
past. A great deal of water will run un
der a bridge in three year. Mary Har
din was twenty. She went on a visit to
a Cincinnati relative. Young Jones be
came abundant in Cincinnati at that very
time. They took in a parson while on a
stroll one day, and when that experi
enced divine got through with them they
were man and wife. They wired their
entangled condition to Col. William Har
din He sent them a message of wrath:
”1 cast Mary off forever. Never let me
see her face again.”
“Oh, very well!" remarked young Jones,
as he read the wire. “I shall need Mary
right along myself in Washington; so
casting her off at Mossback cuts no great
figure. As for Mary’s face, I will look
at it all the more to make up for her
brutal dad's lacks of interest therein.”
Then he kissed Mary as if the feat were
entirely a novelty; and while Mary wept
she still felt very happy. Then they came
to Washington.
VI.
Two years more followed the others
into history. Young Jones was held a
fortunate man. His work was a success;
whisky and poker were now so far astern
as to be hull down in the horizon, and he
loved Mary better than ever. She was
the great triumph of his life, and he told
her so every day.
"It Is certainly wonderful,” he said,
“how much more beautiful you are than
anybody else."
This pleased Mary, and while her heart
turned to her hard old father she did not
repent the episode at Cincinnati which
changed her name to Jones. Once „
Mary faithfully address-q a letter® i n,!l
and fresh each time with the love
fails and fade® not. to Col. Willem Har
den, Mouback. Posey county in i
And once a month Cbl. Wilii am
read It gulped a little, but made
I will never see her again.” Col tv u ’
lam Hardin would remark to himself
these letter occasions. All the tim S’*
knew he lived for nothing else
But he thought of his family and m
tered his pride and. of course benm
great tool at onoe, as all men do
give way to attacks of pedigree
But the Jones baby was born, and
Jones concluded to try his hand 0 n Jv?
William Hardin. Mary wanted him
come, and that settled the whole ", ■ *
so far as young Jones was concerned "i S
his new victory as a successful father h
felt he could look down on Col, \V -
Hardin. He threfore wrote the messai™
written in our first chapter with perft*r
confidence that turn as matters mi-h> v"
had nothing to fear.
"The past at least is secure,” said yo
Jones, “and come what may I v "
Mary and the baby.*' ’ ° dva
Both Mary and young Jones, however
awaited the returns from Posey cou ’
with anxiety. Mary, because she i ov < i
her father, and mourned for his oid i os ,
face; and young Jones because he loved
Mary. They were relieved when the bell
rang at 7 o’clock p. m. and tho bicyri.
boy handed in a yellow paper which ri j
"Will be there to-morrow on the Lsn u*
and y.” Col. Wm. Hardin
Mary was all gladness and Joy. Young
Jones was calm, but gave way sufficiently
to say: ”
“Mary wet’ll name the cub William Har.
din Jones.”
VII.
Young Jones met Col. William Hardin
at the depot. The old man had been raktd
by doubts and grievous misgivings all of
the way from Mossback. What did young
Jones' ambiguous message mean? Hal
Mary died? Was he bound to a funeral or
a christening? Col. William Hardin knew
that something tremendous had happened
but what? Cob William Hardin walked
up to young Jones at the station, and
without pausing to greet him, said;
“Crib or coffin?”
"Crib,” said young Jones.
Then Col. William Hardin burst into
tears and began to shake young Jones by
the hand to r the first time in his life. '
VIII.
The three lxappiest people In the world
that night ware Col. William Hardin,
Mary, and young Jones. The baby was
the only member of the family who did nut
give way to emotion. He received his
grandfather with a stolid phlegm which
became a Hardin.
"And his name is William Hardla
Jones," said Mary.
Col. William Hardin kissed Mary again
at this cheering news, and shook hands
with young Jones for the second time ia
his life.
That is all there is to a very true story.
Col. William Hardin lives now in Wash
ington. and Mossback is shy a second citi
zen. Mary is happy, young Jones feci*
like a conqueror, and the infant Hardla
Jones waxes apace.
A Withered Hose. ’•
You gave me a rose, one summer day.
You gave me a rose, and I laid It away,
With a sigh and a tear. In a sacred place.
Enwrapped with my love, and tha
thought of your face.
And the light of my life with it lay.
’Twas years ago, but I see you yet
As I saw you then, with your eyes, tear
wet;
Upraised to the evening sunset dim.
As, drawing the rose from its thorny
stem,
Our lingers, over it, met.
You gave me a rose, aye, more than a rose
A gift more precious than all that grows,
For my hand touched yours, as the blos
som passed
And the thrill of your fingers
fast
In my heart, where your beauty glows.
Dear love; though silent, and far away,
Do you think I forget that evening gray—
That arbor of roses where we stood—
The tear that dropped down on the beau
tiful bud.
Or the words that I heard you say?
Your rose is lingering on my heart,
Your smile, and your glance, and you*
word, are a part
Of my lonely life, and my only pain
Is when, in fancy, I see again.
Tho tears from your eyelids start.
Should we meet again, I wonder, dear.
As we met of old, with no one near,
Would you remember that long ago.
When you gave me a rose, in the sunset
Blow,
With a smile, and a word, and a tear?
—Guy F. Hassard.
4 Reasons Why
Dr. Seymour Putnam
RESIDENT SPECIALIST,
should be consulted by every one suffering
from any form of
CHRONIC, NERVOUS or PRIVATE DISEASE
X*t. Because lie is a graduate of the best
college in America.
5Cd. lie has a license to practice.
3d. lie U the only specialist In Savannah#
4th. ll© Is a PERMANENT RESIDENT,
and does not advertise cheap rates for a
month or so and then leave his patients to
their fate.
SPECIALTIES:
RHEUMATISM,
BLOOD & SKIN
Men & Women.
25 years’experience. Consultation free. Send
stamps or call for symptom blanks
130 ISrougliton Street* Savannah# Oa.
_■ _-tt ■ ■ —. r3i
The Steamer Jtlpha,
P. B. FINNEY, Master,
On and After July 4 will change
her schedule ns follows!
Leave Savannah, Tuesday 9 a at
Leave Beaufort, Wednesday Bam
Leave Savannah, Thursday Sam
Leave Beaufort, Friday Sam
The steamer will not stop at Bluffton oa
Wednesday or Thursday
Special trip to Bluffton every Saturday,
leaving Savannah at 3 p. iu„ returning leave
Bluffton at o a. m. Monday.
For further information apply to
C. H. MEDLOCK, Agent.
STR. GOV. SAFFORD
Between Savannah and Beaufort
MONDAY, WEDNESDAY AND FRIDAY
at 8:50, foot of Bull street, city time
Returning the same day.
For freight and passage apply to
H. Q. KENT. or J. G. GARNETT.
Pass. Agent. Agent,
Foot of Bull street, Exchange wharf
Telephone SCO.
“OLD NEWSPAPERS—IS CENTS A
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