Newspaper Page Text
NORTH GEORGIA I
Wi «! MAKTlji.! Editors and Proprietors.
LIFE’S SUNNY SIDE.
What—yon are dull to-day?
In a sod mull to-day?
Up and be sooial and stirring, I pray
Why so lugubrious?
Take a salubrious
Walk, and wa’U talk, for I’ve something to
say.
Verily, verily,
When Tilings will go merrily
jrou are merry and bravo
But if not cheerfully
Tempored, but tearfully,
Life is a tyrant, and you are its slave.
If you go wilfully,
However skilfully
Nurshing your moods and your delicate
whims, ■
Life will be dumb to you,
All things will come to you
Touched by a shadow that saddens tod
dims.
Life has two sides to it,
Take the best guides to it,
•Look at the best and the brightest, my
friend.
Be a philosopher,
Don’t look so cross over
Matters you never can alter or mend.
Look not so dismally
Down the abysmally
Dark—hanging over the precipice brink
W orst of all bills is
Hypochondriasis—
Sunshine is healthier than shadow, I think.
If you would drive away
Gloom, and would hive away
Honey-like peace In your innermost cell,
Work—like the humble bee,
Soft let your grumble be:
Burn your own smoke, and the world will go
well. V
— C. P. Cranch, in Youth's Companion.
TOM’S EXPERIMENT.
Tom was in a dilemma.
He sat on the rocks overlooking the
sea, in the very spot to which he had
been attracted two hours before by the
sight of a scarlet jacket, and thought
over his perplexities, and wondered how
it would turn out.
“Plague take the girl,” he said, with
rather more emphasis than politeness,
“* be ground a pebble into the earth
under bis heel, “I’d liko to know how to
get the start of her.”
That was just it! How to get tho start
of Janet Stafford was what puzzled him
more than anything he had attempted in
a long time. He had tried, in more ways
than one, to accomplish the feat, and
every attempt had been a failure. He
was getting discouraged.
The way of it all was this: Tom Win¬
ters had met Janet Stafford a year ago,
and had straightway fallen in love with
her. Now Miss Stafford was something
of a flirt, “a regular, born flirt” was
Tom’s way of putting it, and she liked
to tantalize the men, and especially Tom,
it stombd to him. Time and again he
had opened his mouth to propose, but
she always seemed to know what was
coming, and by adroit tact would
ti&n the conversation upon
some other topic, and talk on and on,
until poor Tom would get disgusted,
and conclude that he would wait for
somo other opportunity to declare his
love. In no way could he determine
whether she cared for him or not. He
thought she did, however, and that
kept him following her round as faith¬
fully as her shadow, watching for an
opportunity to put his fate to the test,
and
“Win or lose it all”
He had seen her sitting on the rocks
that afternoon, reading, and of course
he joined her. He wouldn’t have been
Tom Winters, if he hadn’t.
Janet know, before he had been five
minutes by her side, that she was verg¬
ing toward a proposal. She could tell
it by bis face, and the awful silence
which seemed to settle down about him,
as he concentrated his courage for the
momentous crisis which he hoped was at
last at hand.
Suddenly she started up.
“I’m getting absent-minded, I think, ”
she laughed, “I promised to go boat¬
riding with Jack Devere this afternoon,
and 1 had forgotten all about it till this
minute. I’m sorry to leave you, Mr.
Winters, but a promise is a promise , you
know, and has to be kept;” and with
that she was gone, and poor Tom swal¬
lowed the words that were sticking in
his mouth, and sighed dolefully, while
he thought Unutterable things about Jack
Devere, who was his special aversion,
because he was a good deal more atten¬
tive to Miss Stafford than Tom thought
he ought to be.
“I wish Devere was in—China,’’
growled Tom, getting up and brushing
the dust off his clothes, preparatory to
going back to the hotel.
“What did you say, Mr. Winters?”
asked a voice at his side, and there was
Miss Stafford again. “I left my book
here somewhere, and came back after
it.”
SR*
SPRING PLACE. GEORGIA, THURSDAY, JULY 23.1885.
“Don’t go boat-riding to-day," plead¬
ed Tom, growing desperate under the
laughing glance she gave him. ‘ ‘I—I’ve
something particular to say to you.’’
“I must go,” she answered, “though
I’d like to stay over bo much. But I’ll
have to keep my promise.”
“But one doesn’t keep all the prom¬
ises one makes,” said Tom. “Do stay
hero with me, please.”
“If I had promised to go boat-riding
with you, and didn’t keep my word, I
wpnder what you’d think of mo?"
asked Miss Stafford. “Think how dis¬
appointed Jack would be if I shouldn’t
come.”
“He’d get. over it,” answered Tom
“And os I said, I’vo something" particu
lar to say—”
“It will keep till some other day,” an¬
swered Miss Stafford, biting her lips to
keep back tho laugh that always came
when Tom’s face took on that lugubrious
look. “There are moro days coming,
you know.” •
“I suppose so,” Tom had to admit.
“But—bujj you never give me a chance
to say what I want to. I really believe
you know what I want to say, but
won’t let me say it, just to torment
me.”
“There comes Jack,” exclaimed Miss
Stafford, as a whistle was heard down
tho path leading from the beach to tho
cliffs. “Some other time you may tell
me the ‘something particular’ you were
going to to-day—if you get a chance.”
That was it! If he got a chance!
“It’s a downright shame for her to
treat me so," said Tom, watching her
and Jack Devore, tm they went down
the bay. “Somcti mi%> I think she does
it to bother me, and sometimes I think
she does it because sho likes mo and
wants to make me jealous, so that I’ll be
sure to propose. But it can’t be that,
either, for she won’t let me propose.
Hanged if I know what she docs mean
by it.”
Poor perplexed Tom sat down and
took a newspaper out of his pocket, and
tried to forget his trials in its accounts
of murders aud accidents and other
cheerful matters of that sort. Finding
them dull, he turned to the' story de¬
partment. there called There “Washed was a Ashore.” little sketch Tom
read it. It was about a man who loved
a woman—as ho loved Miss Stafford—
and singular coincidence, he couldn’t
find out whether she loved him or not.
One day he was out rowing and lost his
hat. The waves washed it ashore. Tho
woman he loved found it. Sho thought
he must be drowned, and to the poor,
inanimate thing, she confessed tho love
she had borne for its owner. The sup¬
posed dead man happened to be near at
hand, and board her tardy confession of
love—and then and there all his troubles
ended—or
“Why couldn’t I try such an experi¬
ment on Janet!” thought Tom. “If I
could only contrive to make her think I
was drowned. I might find out whether
she cares for mo or not. I don’t see as
I’m ever liisply to find out in any other
way. I’ll try it.”
He went down to the beach and en¬
gaged a boat. He saw Devere coming
as ho went down the bay, and Miss Staf¬
ford waved him a passing greeting
her sunshade.
“That’s lucky,” thought Tom.
seen me going out on the water. I’ll
leave the boat somewhere along the
shore, and it’ll be found, and I’ll be
missing, and she’ll be sure to think I fell
in, and was drowned, or committed
suicide, and when she thinks that, she’ll
be likely to say or do something that'll
give herself away, and I’ll hear of it
after I turn up, and then I’ll know what
to do.” -
“It looks squally in the west,” Do
vere sung out after him. “You’d better
not go far, Winters.”
“Thank you,” answered Tom; “but
I’ll look out for myself,” and he was
soon out of hearing of Miss Stafford’s
merry laugh and Jack Devere’s jokes at
his expense.
A peak jutted out into the bay, and
Tom concluded that a boat abandoned
there would be pretty sure to float back
to the hotel when the tide came in. Ac¬
cordingly he left the boat to the mercy
of the waves, and started back a round¬
about-way to the hotel, over the rocky
cliffs.
The sky was overclouded by this time,
and the wind began to blow. To add
to Tom’s discomfort, the rain soon began
to pour down in great torrents, and he
was drenched to the skin before he could
find shelter, ,
The sun was going down before the
storm abated.
It was quite well along in the evening
before he got back to the vicinity of the
hotel. He was thoroughly chilled in his
wet garments, ho was hungry, and he
was afraid that his plan would prove a
failure. Therefore he was not m a very
‘ !:
pleasant frame of mind when he saw
Janet Stafford’s red jacket just a little
way ahead of him, as ho came down the
beach. The sight of that jacket, in it¬
self, was not very disagreeable, but the
sight of Jack Dovere’s broad brimmed
straw hat, looking in the moonlight like
an aureole about his rival’s head, made
him very angry.
“Deuce his impertinent attentions,”
growled Tom. “He’s a puppy! I sup¬
pose he answors her, but I’d liko to punch
his head for my amusement. They’ro
coming this way. Now’s my time to
produce a sensation.
The waves were tumbling in on the
beach. Tom threw his hat out among
them, knowing they would wash it in,
and that the couple coming toward him
would be quite sure to see it on the sand.
Then he hid behind a rock.
“I haven’t seen Winters come back
yet,” Miss Stafford was saying, when
they came within hearing distance.
“She’s thinking about me,” said Tom,
“and that shows she’s—she’s—well, it
shows she’s thinking about me, anyway,
if it doesn’t show anything else,” and
this was some consolation to the poor
fellow. “Perhaps they won’t recognize
the hat as mine, but if I keep shady td
night and the boat is found, then they’ll
think that I must be lost and we’ll see
what she’ll say.”
“He may have been cast away on some
island along the shore,” laughed Jack
Detere. Maybe he’ll turn hermit and
end his days and troubles there.”
“I hope not,” said Miss Stafford,"
“for if that should happen I should rjev
er know what ‘something particular
was that ho wanted to say to me.” Then
she laughed, and the sound of her mer¬
riment made the listaner’s ears tingle.
“Poor fellow,” said Devore, but his
tone didn’t seem to have as much pity in
it as his words did. “You’re really too
hard on him. What’s that at your feet,
Janet? A hat, isn’t it?"
“Sure enough,” said Mias Stafford,
stooping to pick it up. “Why, Jack,
I do believe it’s Tom Winters’, for
here’s a bunch of blackberry leaves
sticking in the band, and I remembef
giving He him some I had gathered jester
day. begged so hard for them that
I couldn’t refuse him. Oh, Jack! do
you suppose he is drowned?”
“I wouldn’t wonder at all if he was,”
answered Jack. It made Tom’s blood
run cold to hear his rival's matter-of
fact tone. “He was a perfect muff with
a boat, and never ought to have been al¬
lowed two rods from shore in one.”
•‘I hope he isn’t drowned,” said Miss
Stafford, and Tom listened delightfully
to the sigh that accompanied the words.
It proves Chat she must care something
for him.
“Just wait till sho hears of the boat,”
chuckled Tom. “I presume she’d give
way to her feelings now over the hat if
he wasn’t by.”
Poor Tom 1
“Oh, Jack!” exclaimed Miss Stafford,
a moment later, “if ho is drowned I
shall never listen to that 'something
particular,’ shall I,” and then she
laughed.
Tom could hardly credit his senses.
Looking at it from their standpoint, in
ail probability he was dead. And yet
she could laugh.
“Heartless creature,” though Tom,dis¬
gusted with all the world. “I wouldn’t
have believed it of her. She didn’t care
two buttons for me. What a fool I’ve
been. I wish somebody’d kick me!”
“I don’t want gentlemen saying,
‘something particular’ to my promised
wife,” said Jack, and then he kissed
Miss Stafford, and she kissed him back,
and said she'd “do just as he thought
best, only it was sUch fun to bother the
silly fellow.”
His promised wife!
Tom didn’t want to hear anything
more. He didn’t want to sec anything
more. He had heard and seen enough
already.
“I don’t know but we’d^ better go
back and get some one to turn out and
look for Winter^,” he heard Jack say.
“They needn’t bother themselves
about me,” thought Tom, making his
way up the rocks as fast as he could.
“I’m afraid, Tom Winters, youv’e made
a great fool of yourself, and that your
experiment was a failure. And yet,
after all,” he added, as he stopped to
take breath on the summit of the cliff,
“it wasn’t, for now you’ve found out
what she thinks of you 1”
It is hardly necessary to say that
Tom’s “something particular” was never
said; at least, never to Miss Stafford.—
Eben E. Ber/ord , in Chicago Herald.
The German Society for the Develop¬
ment ot Aerial Navigation have at least
gone so far toward the realization of
their ideal as to publish a monthly maga¬
zine entirely devoted to the discussion
of questions of aerial navigation.
«*■
.-■j FUN.
The laundress* daily soliloquy—“Aye,
there’s the rub .”'—Lowell Citizen,
The Cologno Gazette , desplto its name,
is not a one scont papor .—Norristown
Herald.
Some youths shave against the beard,
while others shave down only.— Water¬
loo Observer.
A bridge should never bo condemned
until it has been tried by its piers.—*
Boston Courier.
"What shall bo done with our calves?”
asks sr rural exchange. You might pad
them.—hfajton Post.
Womon are not inventivo as a rule.
They have no eagerness for new wrinkles.
—New Orleans Picayune.
Wc have a “Poet’s Corner" in our
sanctum. It is tho corner where the
waste-basket stands .—Burlington Free
Press.
Verse sweetens toil, however rude the sound;
She feels n<* biting pang the while she sings,
Till stem the editor his chair turns round,
And in the basket all her singing flings.
W i-.'l'e 'A —Puo J'r
.--a;: r * • -J* f
A petrified baby was recently discov¬
ered in Texas, and our lately married
editor is wondering “how tho blamed
thifl*fkept quiet long enough to get pet¬
rified ,—Lowell Citizen.
A cyclone 'resembles a Western man,
because it is some on the blow. It is
like a woman, because when it makes up
its mind to go somewhere all earth can’t
stopfft .—Chicago Ledger.
JITf ■ . . . ft— . , ,
aiKrs
worijwg “What on. is education?” Evansville Argus. asked a writer. |
W^Hit is something a college graduate
thinks he has until he becomes a news
papCr man. Then ho has to begin all
ever again .—New York Journal.
“The tendency to do wrong increases
toward night,” says a well known cler
gyman, I think this is - very likely to bo
truc, for when Adam ate the forbidden
“ it was near Eve .—Boston Times.
i fui succmY-hM-I wstot
herfsid,” he said, as he pulled out his
empty pockets. “Yes, and by tb - looks
of things I should think sho found
one,” was all the comfort ho got.—
The Judge.
It is sententiously remarked that “tho
worldly possessions of men of supposed
means aro usually overestimated.” That
philosopher had evidently asked a mil
lionnaire for $10 and got a niekle.—
Call.
“Yes,” remarked Fogg,” “Miss Sin-,
gleton is a nice girl, but somehow she re
minds me of that field over there Inhere
those cows are slowly but surely starving
to death—little past her age, you know.”
-Boston Transcript.
Some one, describing a new newspa¬
per office, says: “The first thing that
strikes the visitor, upon entering tho ed¬
itorial rooms, is tho large crystal chande¬
lier.” This is certainly a now departure,
but; we are inclined to doubt that it will
ever.take the place of the good old club.
— Puck.
Before Paper.
Wood was one ol the earliest sub¬
stances employed on which to inscribe
names and record events. . Stone, brass,
lead and copper, wero also used at an
early period; after which the leaves of
trees.; These were superseded by the
outer bark of the tree, but this being
too coarse the inner bark came soon
after to be used, that of the lime being
preferred. This bark was called by the
Romans liber, the Latin work for book,
and these bark books, that they might
be more conveniently carried about, were
rolled up, and called volumen, hence our
word volume. The skins of sheep, goats
and asses Were the next materials used,
and so nicely were they prepared that
long narratives were inscribed on them
with the greatest accuracy. Some of
these were fifteen feet long, containing
fifty and sixty skins, fastened together
by thongs of the same material. Tho
intestines of certain reptiles were also
used, for it is a well authenticated fact
the poems of Homer were written on in¬
testines of serpents in letters of gold.
This roll was 120 feet long, and was de¬
posited in the great library of Constanti¬
nople, where it was destroyed by fire in
the sixth century. The nsxt material
was parchment—skins smoothed ana
polished succeeded by vellum, pumice finer stone—to description which j
a 01
parchment, made from the skins of verj
young animals. On this vellum golv
and silver letters were stamped with hoi
metal types. Some of these priductioni
are very beautiful, requiring much tim«
and labor to prepare and complete them, |
and tho more carefully they are examinee
the more do we admire the taste and in
genuity displayed.— Chambers' Journal,
VOL. V. New Series. No. 24.
A SCENE OF SLAUGHTER.
Koldlem t'niler (General f-orOen Tell
How Khartoum Fell.
A Dongola (Soudan) letter to tho Lon¬
don Hews says: Two men have arrived
here whose story throws some fresh light
on the capture of Khartoum. They were
soldiers in Gordon’s army, taken at the
time and sold as slaves, but who ulti¬
mately escaped. Their names are Said
Abdullah and Jacob Mahomet. I will
let them tell their own history. They
say: “At night Khartoum was delivered
into the hands of the rebels. It fell
through the treachery of the accursed
Parig Pasha, the Circassian,* who ppened
the gate. May ho never reach Paradise!
May Shaytau take possession of his soul!
But it was Kismet. The gate was called
‘Bouri.’ It was on the Bluo Nile. YVe
wero on guard near, but did not see
what was going on. Wo were attacked
and fought desperately at the gato.
Twelve of us were killed, ana twenty
two retreated to a high room, where we
wero taken prisoners. And now came
tho ending. The red flag with the
crescent was destined' no more to wave
over the palace; nor would the strains
of the hymn of his highness the Effendina
be heard any moro at evening within
Khartoum. Blood was to flow in her
streets, in her dwellings, in her very
mosque, and on the Kenniseh of the
Narsira.
“A cry arose, ‘To the palace! to the
palace!’ A wild and furious band
rushed forward, but they were resisted
slaved, and the state of the slave, tho
perpetual bondage with hard task-mas.
ter9j ig worse than death. Slaves
are not treated weU) as you think . heavy
chain9 are TOlmd thoir ankleg and midd i 0
and they aro lashed {or the lcast offense
till blood flows. We had fought for the
Christian pasha and for the Turks, and
we knew that we should roccivc no mer*
cy. We (the pavty I was with) could
not help being taken prisoners. The
spt on lire, 'J'he fight raged
and the slaughter continped till the
streets were slippery with blood. The
rebels rushed onward to the palace. We
saw a mass rolling to and fro, but did
not seo Gordon Pasha killed. Ho met
bis fate as ho wa9 leaving tho palace near
the large tree which stands on the esplan
ado. The palace is not a “one’s throw
or, at any rate, a gunshot distance from
tde Austrian consul’s house. He was
going iu that direction, to the magazine
on tho Kenniseh, a long way off. We
did not hear what became of his body,
nor did we hear that his head was cut
off, but wc saw the head of the traitor
Farig. who met with his deserts.
“And now fearful, scenes took place in
every house and building, in the large
market place, in the small bazars. There
were the same terrible scenes in the
dwellings where the window sills and
door lintels were painted azrek, where
there had been many feasts and fantasias
where merissa had flowed in plenty, and
where the walls were built of wahal and
the roof built of dhoora stalk, Men
wero slain shrieking for mercy, when
mercy was not in the hearts of our sav¬
age enemies. Womon and childron were
robbed of their jewels of gold and jewels
of silver, of their bracelets, necklaces of
precious stones, and carried off to be sold
to the Bishareen merchants as slaves.
Yes, and white women too—Egyptians
and Circassians who woro the burko over
their faces, the rabtah, and tho turbah,
and the kurs on their heads—ladies clad
in silk and satin gibbehs and saltahs.
Mother and daughter alike were dragged
off from their homes of comfort. These
were widows, wives and daughters of
Egyptian officers, some of whom had
been killed with Hicks Pasha; wives and
children of Egyptian merchants formerly
rich, owning ships and mills, gnrdcns
and shops. These were sold afterward,
some for 340 thaleries or more, some for
250, according to age and good looks.
And the poor black women already slaves
and their children were taken off, too.
These wero sold, too, for 100, eighty, or
seventy thaleries. Their husbands and ,
masters were slain before their eyes,
and yet I hear it said there
no massacre at the taking of
Khartoum! They lie who say so, and
arc in league with Mahomet Achmet.
You must not believe all that men com
ing from Omdurman tell you. Mahomet
Achmet and the Dervishes send you
false reports of everything, and yon be
lieve them, then they laugh. This fight
ing and spilling of blood continued till
dehr, till the sun rode high in the sky—
red, - t darkened by smoko and dust.
fas riot and clamor, hubbub and
ng over spoil,; cursing was heard
tit. ic hour of evening prayer. But the
Muezzin was not called; neither were
any prayers offered up at the mosque on
that dark day in the annals of Khartoum.
But the histbry of thoso scenes will not
be written on its records; for all scrolls
and papers and books in the archives
were destroyed and scattered abroad
yot the howling herd, possessed by
afaseet and gin—the screeching devils
bespattered with gore, swarming about
in droves and bands, found not the
plunder that they had been promised or
had expected. Then they were exasper
ated. Their fury knew no bounds, and
they sought out Farig Pasha, but he was
with tho dervishes. Ho had presented
himself to them as ono deserving well of
honor and rewards. ‘Where is the hid
den treasure of the Greek merchants and
Cachalces; of Lcontides and Georgio
Thcractrio? Yes, and of the Franchesi
Marquet; of the Italian Michaelo?’Farig
was questioned, but he swore by Allah
and by the souls of his fathers back to
three generations that Gordon had no
money, and that he knew of no hidden
money or treasure. ‘You lie!’ cried the
dcrviBhcs. ‘You wish after a while to
come here, dig, and get it all for your
self. If tho Inglezze had money or sil
ver, how did ho make all thoso silver
modalswe have seen?”
(t t Most of them are lead,’ Farig re¬
plied, and he paid every one with paper.
‘It is false,’ they replied, and now have
a care; listen to what we are going to
sa I to y° u - are sur0 y° u know
wk °re the money lies concealed. Wo
are not careful of your life, for you have
rase
buried treasure you shall surely die.’
“ But Fali ff. i t is said—for we were not
there—seeing that his end was approach
ing, that his words were not believed, as
sumed a proud and haughty bearing and
an attitude of defiance. ‘I care not,’ he
said > ‘ for > our threats. I have told the
truth,Allah knows. There is no money,
neither is their treasure. You are mag
noons to ® u PP<>se thoro is money, but
if tbere were y° u would not divide
5t fairly among “our followers
, . would,
t0 evet "y 0flc bis portion. Yoa
keep amon g yourselves. I have done
a ? rea ** deed. I have delivered to your
' ord and mas * ,or tbu cB y> which you
cou,d nuvor have taken without my help.
^ ou would have been beaten back from
tko trenc bes by the Inglezze, who, even
now » await their time to punish you, and
-^ bavc secrets regarding these, which, if I
clic ’ die witB me * 1 teI1 ou a S ain
-
* hcr ° is aotrca8ur «, but ^ ou wiil rue the
ay * y° ukilllne ’
‘ 8mon f? *bo dervishes then
stc PP od forward and struck him, bound
as he wa8 in tho mouth ’ telliD 8 him to
cease his fool ’ s prophecies; while an¬
other, incensed. rushed at him and struck
him on the back of the neck with his
two-edged sword, so that with one blow
his head fell from his shoulders.
“So perished the arch-traitor—may his
soul be afflicted! tBut as for Gordon
Pa3ha, be ‘enjoying the rnagn^ fuller nimous, knowledge!’ may his I soul
say
nearly all the Egyptian men were slain
in spite of their casting themselves down
and praying for mercy. Farig Pasha’s
head was then carried off to Mahomet
Achmet.”
Grant and tne Reporter,
This was in 1889. I went to Wash
ington to meet the President. The
Senator introduced us, and I looked at
General Grant and he looked at me. I
didn’t have anything to say and it was
the most awkward moment of my life.
Finally I stammered: “Mr. President, I
am awfully embarrassed—are you?" I
didn’t stop to hear his answer, and I
don’t know how I got out of the White
House, but I had met the President any¬
how. In 1879 I was in Chicago. Gen¬
eral Grant had just arrived, and was to
review the Grand Army of Tennessee—
the first that he commanded, you know.
^ rov * ew * n S platform had been erected
in front of the hotel. Tho crowd was
awf “*• ^ was tbo largest I ever saw. I
wan * ed 806 review, and with the
old iastinct of the re P° rter ’ t0 <*ove
himself where he had no business
I edged tinough the crowd and got on
tbe pl at ^ orm > a °d these I was alone
facin » that trenj endous crowd. Pres¬
ently a man came behind me. It was
^ . .... ^ arter Harrison. . ,,,, I
!l ^ or knew him
and be knew me - looked at me and
* ffi° ked at; b ^ m - Hight behind him
was General Grant. Mr. Harrison said
*>y° u now eneral Giant! ’ “No,”
^ said. All right 111 introduce you,"
he sai<1 * I was embarrassed again when
Mr. Harrison introduced us. “How do
y° u do * sa ’ d ^ euora l Grant. “I am
no * em l> ar r»ssed are you V'—Philadeir
Hem.
. ..... .
There ore but sixty-threo daily papers
published in the Russian Empire.