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NORTH GEORGIA TIMES.
W. C. MARTIN.! Edi,ors noil Proprietor;,.
Beyond.
A threatening sea; a frowning sky
O’er which the awe-struck clouds slip
As seeking each anothci’s side:—
Adown such paths the storm -gods ride
To meet men tace to face.
rhe harbor lights; beyond, the home
Most loved by him who most must roam.
Rag©> wind and wavo ! Frown, sky and sea
Ye da no more than hasten me
To my dear love’s embrace !
— Walker L. Satvyer in the Current.
THE BOUND GIRL.
♦ *
*T’U haye to do everythinjWtlwrte!”
Little Janet Rae stood with arms
akimbo, and looked about the great
Mason kitchen. She was nearly twen
ty, but under-sized. She had but one
beauty—her pretty curly head. She
was Mrs. Titus Mason’s bound-girl—
bound to work for that lady until she
was one-and-twenty. Such were the
terms of the contract when Janet had
been taken from the orphan asylum, a
tiny creature of ten, nine years before;
and it was the hard work and scant
fare which had prevented her growing.
There she stood, looking about her
at the array of cooking utensils, the
rows of milk-pans, the pile of wash
tubs, the shelf of flat-irons, the capa¬
cious wood-boxes.
That morning Mrs. Titus, the au¬
thoritative, the energetic, had fallen
down the cellar-stairs and broken her
leg. The doctor had been called, and
set it; Mrs. Titus had had a nap, and
then lifted up her voice and proved
herself equal to the situation:
“I’m laid up for a month, Janet —
that’s plain to be seen. I’ve done
everything for you; now you must take
right hold and go on without me.
There’ll be the cookin’ to do and the
butter to make more than you- have
done, extra. But you can do it, if you
try. You’ll have to, anyway. Hayin’s
over, and Mr. Dent ’ll be goin’ home
soon, so that’ll be one less to provide
■JfeJT' ..........She gave'
4*
Mrs. us her valerian, and than went
away, and stood looking around the
kitchen.
“I’ll have to do everything alone!”
There was such a large family, and
so much work to be done, no wonder
Htjtlo Janet shrank; but she never
thought of shirking. With breakfast
at five o’clock, and supper-dishes to be
washed at eight, she had always had
enough to do; but to undertake all the
active duties which Mrs. Titus had
been accustomed to perform, was al¬
most appalling.
Janet stood thinking how it was to
be done. She was such a little thing.
It took so many of her armfuls to fill
the wood-boxes with hard and soft
wood. She must needs stand on a box
to work at the tubs on the wash-bench;
and her arms grew so tired at the
churning. She had been trained to
great capability; but she was not
strong enough.
But there was no time for reflection.
There was supper to get for the four
farm-hands, Mrs. Titus’ gruel to make
and carry up, the milk to strain, the
dishes to wash, the wood-boxes to fill,
and sponge to be set for bread.
Janet rushed for a pail of water.
Mr. Dent was at the well.
Mr. Miles Dent was the summer
boarder. He had bought a mill privi¬
lege of Mrs. Titus and was building a
mill.
He wa3 a handsome, very pleasant
man—as perfectly healthy people are
apt to be, and he was very large and
strong. In age he might have been
thirty, or thereabouts.
“Very old, indeed,” Janet had pro¬
nounced him; and she had always been
a little afraid of him, his manners were
so nice, and he had such nice books in
his room.
Whether he was aware of her exist¬
ence or not, she was not quite sure.
But he seemed to see the hurrying,
anxious little creature now—for, say¬
ing “My arms are the strongest,” he
took the pail, filled it and carried it
into the kitchen.
“Have your hands full, haven’t you,
little one?” he said pleasantly, glanc¬
ing about him. “Your shoulders
hardly look strong enough for all this
baking and brewing.”
Janet smiled shyly—pleased, sur¬
prised; but she was too abashed to
more than murmur some faint response,
and Mr. Dent went away.
But she felt cheered by the friendly
words of the big, brown-bearded man;
and though Mrs. Titus scolded her be¬
cause the gruel hadn’t milk enough,
and she was obliged to go up and down
•tain three times before the lady was
a * r
SPRING PLACE* GEORGIA, THURSDAY, AUGUST 18 , * 1885 .
.................... .......-f~- -
served, she laid her head upon her pil¬
low more lightly than usual—all for
one kind word. Poor little Janet.
But evil days were too surely at
bund.
It made Mrs. Titus very cross to lie
in bed, inactive, and she could not give
up the oversight of the kitchen below.
A score of times a day she would
call Janet from her work to know
what site was at, and what she intend¬
ed doing next. Countless orders is¬
sued from her chamber.
These idiosyneraeies added greatly
to Janet’s fatigue, as she toiled through
the day, and she actually sobbed with
weariness one night, when she com*
menced to bring in the wood,
She was standing in the woodshed,
Suddenly she heard a step on the grav
el of the path in the yard,
It was Mr. Dent. He had not gone
He came swinging along in his shirt
sleeves, his linen duster over his arm.
How rich, and prosperous, and hap¬
py he was!
Janet did not desire to dispossess
Mr. Dent of his good-fortune, but she
thought it hard that a little of the
brightness of life could not be hers.
But when Mr. Dent came opposite
the shed-door, the happy light died out
of his pleasant gray eyes.
Well it might, Janet did not dream
what a pitiful sight her poor little
tear-stained face was.
Mr. Dent spoke cheerily.
“All work and no play makes Jill a
dull girl, doesn’t it?” he said, taking
the basket from her hand and in a mo¬
ment carrying it, loaded, into the kitch¬
en. “You have too much to do; the
spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”
When Mr. Dent had iilled the big
wood-boxes so the covers would hardly
shut down, he said:
“My arms are strong, and they shall
be at your service while I stay here,
though it will be only a day or two
longer. I shall bo quite at leisure to¬
morrow or next day, and you can :: call *
on me whenever you like:”
Much as Janet was pleased, she
never would have dreamed of taking
the gentleman at his word; but the
next morning proved a rainy one, so
that Mr. Dent’s chamber, being cold
and no fire lighted in the sitting-room,
he came into the kitchen with his book
and ensconced himself in the great
rocking-chair beside the stove.
That was the pleasantest day of
Janet’s life. Mr. Dent told her such
funny stories, and read so beautifully
from his great book! and then, he iill¬
ed the water-pails, and kept the fire
burning, and jumped up to lift the
heavy tubs for her, and sat down
again to keep the bread from burning,
while she carried Mrs. Titus’ dinner
up.
And while he was doing all this, Air.
Dent was thinking what a dear little
patient thing she was, and how pretti¬
ly the nut-brown hair curled over iter
head.
At night he filled the boxes with
wood, strained the milk, wound the
high clock and turned the cats out; and
all day he had had a jest for every¬
thing, .and a genial glance and a kind
one, that turned darkness into light
for Janet.
She sighed witli happiness as she
went to sleep, though Mrs. Titus’*
good-night word had been that “she
was a lazy, good-for-nothing thing!”
and that she “should be down stairs
to-morrow to see what Janet was up
to.”
The northeast storm continued, and
Mr. Dent was sitting by the fire again,
when Airs. Titus limped into the
kitchen with a cane.
Now, Mr. Dent had just been chop¬
ping mince-meat, with Mrs. Titus’
gingham apron and ruffled cap on, and
had barely cast them aside, when the
lady opened the door and caught Janet
laughing.
She might well have looked amazed,
for she never had seen Janet laughing
before. Now, why she probably could
not have told, but Mrs. Titus was very
much offended.
She waited until dinner was served,
and Janet had gone into the well-room
to cool the pudding then she began a
bitter tirade:
“Pretty business this is, giggling and
fooling your time away, and every¬
thing to do! Mr. Dent’s been reading
poetry to you, has he? How much
more churning can you do when you
listen to poetry ? Have you baked that
fruit-cake? AVell, I know it’s made
wrong! Did you shut that settin’ hen
off the nest? I don’t believe it. AVhat’s
Air. Dent in the kitchen for, any way ?’’
“For the fire, ma’am. The chambers
are so chilly. And I had so much to
do, and he was kind, and his arms
were strong,” faltered poor little J anet.
“Umph! Been complaining to Mr.
Dent, have you, that you work so hard?
Whining, good-for-nothing creature! I
wish I’d left you in the asylum. I
never thought of yotir turning out
like this—luring men into in Jr kitcheri
when I’m sick in bed—”
“Slop, Mrs. Titus!” interposed Mr.
Dent’s heavy voice. “Better not go
too far. .lanet has told you all there
is to tell. 1 did think she worked too
hard. I felt kindly toward her. I
have a pair of strong arms which have
helped her a little. And they are still
nt her service. They shall be hers for
life if she will, Little Janet, will you
accept me fbr a husband? Many a
younger man will not be as tender and
true as I, Janet. Will you come, lit
tle one?”
And Janet—she looked once with
her wide, innocent eyes into the strong,
gentle face, then went straight into
those extended arms, though Mrs. Ti
tus stood by sniffing the air in scorn,
“Well, I neyerl” she exclaimed. “To
think of it!”
Janet never was scolded again,
Those kindi strong arms' have bVen
about her evef since. To-be-sure, she
was not educated for a gentleman’s
wife, but Mr. Dent took her home to
the kindest of mothers and sisters,
whose influence and tact polished her
unobtrusive manners, and soon made
her'the most elegant of women. The
toil-worn little hands are white as
snow now; but, better than all, her
heart is the happiest that ever beat in
a wife’s breast— Saturday Night.
'• ■■ -------
Mrs. Langtry and the (lowboy.
Mrs Langtry had been taugbt to
dread the cowboy as an incarnate fiend
to be fled from at all risks. On one oc
casion, when her servants had marched
off to the groggeries of the neighbor
mg settlement, she was quite alone in
her car, when there came a timkl and
tentative knock, at the door. She
opened it at once, and there stood one
of the dreaded race, a gigantic leather
clad cowboy. His look was strange
anti wild, but liis words were meek
and mild. Extending his huge paw,
and raising his hat with the other, he
said, “I guess, madam, you are Mrs.
Langtry. AVe are right glad to see
you in our part of the country.
There’s some of us’boys who work up
in the mountains who don’t see a
woman, let alone a pretty one’ abi.Ve
oncest or twice a year.” Mrs. Lang¬
try made a suitable reply, whereat the
cowboy grew bolder and said, “Migut
I jest ask you, madam, to wave your
handkerchief out of the window ? You
seo that little house down younder,
AVal there’s a girl there as I’m dead
gone on, and I kinder promised Iter
as I would get you to wave your
handkerchief to her. If you would
do this it might help me a bit.
Like any true woman Airs. Langtry
had no objection to advance the cow’
boy’s love affairs, and wave her ltand
kerceief accordingly in the direction
indicated. He was profusely grateful,
but still not entirely happy. “I guess”
he went on, “you are a kind-hearted
lady. Now would you jest give me a
bit of old ribbon, or a glove you have
worn, or a torn handkerchief, to show
to the boys around as something that
once belonged to you?” There was
nothing for it, Airs Langtry confesses,
but to give him a scrap of pink ribbon,
and then, after more thanks and ex¬
pressions of the devotion of the entire
territory, he stalked off.— London
World.
The Third Section Got Well.
When the great Alajendie assumed
the professor’s chair of medicine at the
College of France, he thus addressed
the astonished students: “Gentlemen,
medicine Is a humbug. Who knows
anything about medicine? I tell you
frankly, I don’t. Nature does a good
deal; doctors do very little—when
they don’t do harm.” Alajendie went
on to tell the following pungent lit¬
tle professional tale out of school;
“AVhen I was head physician at the
Hotel Dieu I divided the patients into
three sections. To one I gave the
regulation dispensary medicine in the
regulation way; to another I gave
bread, milk and colored water, and to
the third section I gave nothing, at all.
AVeli, gentlemen, every one of the
third section got well. Nature invar
ibiy came to the rescue.”
The total length of the submarine
cables now in use is quoted at 68,000
miles.
i
O ‘—' ir
.
This Famous Feminine War¬
riors of Africa.
Six 1 JWsand Armed Women Who Act
as the King's Body Guard.
Dr, Roller; a correspondent bf the
fromfaefie Zeitung, Writes 4$ follows
of the famous women Warriors
of i Africa; The amazons of
Abofne, of whom there are at
the most some 6,000, are nominally
the Wives of the king, and as such
forni a body guard which is said to be
Superior to the male soldiers in cour
hge,^discipline, and loyalty; But al
though these a blazons accompany the
king On all his Wars, 1 think they tire
inor for show than for service.
Among all the hakages and semi-sav
age fttbes,singing and dancing dre cOri
sidereal as essential as drilling and
drumming among ourselves. It is
natural that the amazons, having
front their earliest childhood been edu
cated as warriors, dancers and singers,
should be as superior to male soldiers
in these accomplishments as our guards
are tp the reserves. The amazons of
the ‘‘chacha,” all of whom have servod
in Die army of Abome, are women be
tween the ages of 18 and 25, and as
the Chacha” does not go to war they
are Anturally only kept for show,
They have no separate barracks, but
live like the thirty male soldiers, in
different quarters of the town, whence
they *ife called together whenever they
are wanted. At their first entrance,
when marching up in a long proces
Bion they saluted their lord, and mas
ter, I, was astonishod at the military
exactitude of their movements. 1m
agine sixty young women, strong and
slencier( wbo> without losing anythi
0 f their womanliness, present a decid
edly Wilrl iko appearance . Among
Eu * opoiing tliia cornbinati(m o£ ttie
won and the warrior could not b0
j here it is explained, by the
pH g u fl a r formation of the fiegro skele
eton , The gl£e ietons of negro women
(j n striding contrast to those of the
niu i at toes) are strikingly like the
Bke ] e t 0 ns of male negroes. Their
picturesque uniform might furnish
our masters of the ballet with fresh
ideas. The fresh young faces look
roguishly from under the white, brim¬
less yokey-cap, ornamented with black
pictures of animals, such as lizards,
birds and others. The feet are bare;
short knickerbockers of green, red or
yellow material come down nearly to
tlie knees, and a bright-colored tunic
of striped silk or velvet, which leaves
only the neck and the arms free,covers
the upper part of ths body, which is
supported by corsets of native manu¬
facture. A broad belt of many colors
heightens the slim appearance of the
female warrior. At the left side of
the belt a short sword is fastened, and
a small cartridge pocket in front. A
scarf of white or light green silk is
worn like a Scotch plaid. The arma¬
ment consists of swords, battle-axes,
and guns, which latter are put aside
during the dance. Quite apart from
the effect of combined dancing and
singing, the performances, which went
on for several hours uninterruptedly
before our eyes, were quite in the
style of our corps de ballet, with the
only difference that perhaps no other
corps de ballet would dance with equal
exactitude. First came a tall and
somewhat elderly woman. She was
the captain, and as she entered, the
son of the “chacha” whispered to me:
“Just look how well my mother
dances.” Then followed, with battle
axes uplifted, the younger officers, and
in their rear the still younger troops,
now dashing toward us in their sham
fight, now wheeling round, dispersing,
and again uniting. And all this with
rhythmical movements half warlike
half coquettish but never clumsy, the
elegant play of the bare, round arms
recalling to the mind the limbs of an¬
cient classical statues. All dances
which I have seen performed among
savage and demi-savage people have
been grotesque. Here for the first
time a performance was given which
would have held its own before a se¬
rious critic and aesthete.
AVe need be careful how we deal
with those about us, for death carries
with it to some small circle of sur¬
vivors thoughts of so many things
forgotten and so many more which
might have been repaired; such recol¬
lections are among the bitterest we
can have, There is no remorse so
deep as that which Is unavailing; if
we would be spared its pains, let us
remember this in time.
VOL. V. New Senes. No. 27.
llow Mr. Beecher lAofcs s How
He (’reaches.
Mr. Beecher has a strongly marked
appeafsnee. He is robust. A splen¬
did constitution’ has been sedulously
guarded. Ilis face in thS tipper part
is intellectual and spiritual. The lower
is heavy, and if not relieved by the
eyes and front would be gross and un
pledsing. Bui when the countenance
lights tipi With the glowing fervor of
the orator, it affords a field on whicli
all the passing emotions are depicted.
He is a wide student, lias read much,
and observed nature and human life
keenly. He loves children and flow¬
ers. He is a connoisseur of art—.a
keen critic of men and manner. Jlis |
theology is of no school, and is to some
strangely and perplexingly inconsis¬
tent. He is a humorist, at times car¬
rying the grotesque beyond the limits
not merely of pulpit law, but even
those of general good taste. He evi¬
dently represses much that bubbles up
to his lips to say. What he says
might sometimes be better kept within
the “white bounds of the teeth.” He
deals with Scripture in a very free and
Unconventional manner. He is rich
in illustration drawn from nature his¬
tory, art, and human 1 e. Ilia dra¬
matic powers are great. His preach¬
ing is partly delivered from notes, but
amongst these he interpersed freely
spoken passages, some of which at
times are of the highest order of incis¬
ive address, eloquent, rich in sugges¬
tion, full of the largest sympathy, the
noblest sentiment of devout aspiration
and human enthusiasm.
It would be impossible to character¬
ise Mr. Beecher’s preaching. It is so
varied, so multiform, we might more
easily say what ho is not than what ho
is. He furnishes illustrations of all
styles, and he continues, even now
that he has passed the seventieth year
of his life, fresh, vigorous, young as
ever. The distinguishing qualities of
liis style are radiance and joyousness.
His sermons are like floods of arshine,
in which there is the petpefrusu stir
and stress of life. There is no preach¬
er in our time—perhaps there has been
never a preacher—who lias pressed in¬
to the service of the pulpit so wide a
range of treatment, sympathy and
method. It would not be excessive if
we should entitle him the Shakespeare
of the pulpit, so rich, so varied, so
manifold has been the spirit and man¬
ner of his work.
The Uoyotc.
A AVyotning Territory letter to the
NeAV Y’ork Sun says. Tho coyote is
the sneak thief, the pickpocket of the
Rocky Mountain region. Although the
dog belongs to the same genus of ani¬
mals, yet the hunters and trappers in
expressing their contempt for a Dig¬
ger Indian will compare him to a coy¬
ote, but never to a dog. Even the In¬
dian dog, which is a coyote tamed
through long generations, despises his
ancestors and lights him at ev ery op¬
portunity with great show of con¬
tempt. So cowardly is this animal
that lie never dares to seize a bird
which faces him, but springs when its
back is turned.
The coyote is found ovor a very
wide section of country. .Evidently
their range is from sea level to 10,000
feet above. I saw large numbers of
them in AVyoming, Idaho and Mon¬
tana, between 6,000 and 8,000 feet
above sea level. AVhen first seen they
are usually standing motionless on
some slight elevation or among the
sage brush. If no harm is likely to
come to them, they will stand and
scrutinize the traveller from a very
near point. In fact, they are safer
near by than at a distace, as one is apt
to take them for Indian dogs if they
appear tame. In Idaho I saw them
hunting in their usual sneaking way,
the large sage hens. Indeed, when I
had taken the trouble to shoot one of
these bird3 I was surprised to see a
nimble coyote step out from
under a tall sago bush, seize
the bird, and dash away. At
that time I was riding through the
mountains in a double buggy, and
was unable to give chase. One day I
climbed an almost perpendicular ele¬
vation of about 1,500 feet. On the
narrow top was a coyote, who in his
haste to escape, leaped too far, and
fell over the pfecipice on the opposite
side, several thousand feet deep. In
captivity the coyote is the most ser¬
vile and despicable rascal imaginable.
How the Indians ever had patience to
domesticate them and make coura¬
geous and faithful dog3 of them I can
uot imagine. Although tho Indian
may be wifeless and wigwamless, he
is never dogless.
Childhood’s Faith.
* assert by ioolUIi doublings, bora
)rpride in mental power,
I elmnceil to stray, one Sunday morn,
BosfcVs a country bower—“
A little cottage, creeper-clad—
And through the open pano
The Gospel story, swoea and glad,
Was told to mo again.
An aged dnmo read God’s o \\'? Word,
Spoke of His wondrous grace;
And. all intent, two children hoard,
Faith written on cncb iace.
And lo! I saw myself oncer wwo
Sitting at mother's knee,
Reading the snored writing's o’er.
Trusting implicitly.
Oil, for tlio childlike faith of old,
That knew not doubt or fear,
That heard the Bible stories toll
And belt! thorn very dear!
God grant such faith to me agnins
The pure faith of a child—
To prison all mv pride, nrxl xoign
Willi reason reconciled.
— (r. Weatherly m the’.Quiver.
HUMOROUS.
A baker ought to be a dough-mestic
man.
Tito early cucumber catches * the
squirm.
The want of money is the root of
much evil.
A bird on the toast is worth eighteen
in the bush.
A Court House—The home of mar¬
riageable daughters.
Tho meanest and most disagreeable
uncle is a carb-uncle.
The success of a church choir singer
is, after all, largely a matter of chants.
“I must shake off this bad habit,”
said a tramp as he gazed at his tat¬
tered coat.
Needles were invented in 1545, and
some men haven’t learned to thread
them yet.
It is a noticeable fact that a tight
man transacts his business in a very
loose manner*
sr.srrs
not hear both sides. /
The crow is not so bad a bird, it
never shows the white leather, and
never complains without caws!
'When a girl can read her title cUuu
To matrimony’s share,
She bids farewell to evory fear
And forgets to bang her hair.
Many musical instruments are now
made of paper. This is pleasant news
Paper is so easily destroyed, you know.
“How long does this train*stop for
refreshments?” asked a traveler as he
entered a -railroad restaurant in
Georgia. “It depen’s on how hungry
de conductah am,” said the waiter.
In Bombay, husbands cut off their
wives’ noses for punishment. Th
women in this country are too smart
for their husbands. They never talk
through their noses.
Emory Storrs, who ought to know,
remarks that “the average Chica-p;
man, who possess a ‘coat-of-nrms’ to¬
day, probably wore the coat without
the arms twenty year’s ago.”
The Smallest Watch in tlio World.
A small, gold penholder, resting in
a rich velvet case, lay on a jeweller’s
showcase in John street. The end of
the holder was shaped like an elongat¬
ed cube, and was tin inch long. A
faint musical ticking that issued from
it attracted a customer's attention.
The jeweller lifted tho holder from the
case, with a smile, and exhibited a
tiny watch dial, l-16th of an inch in
diameter, set in the side between two
other dials almost as small. One indi¬
cated the day, and the other the month
of the year. The centre dial ticked off
seconds, minutes, and hours.
“This is the smallest watch ever
made,” the jeweller said, “and theonly
one of its kind in the world. It took
a Geneva watch maker the better part
of two years to fit the parts together
so that they would work accurately.
It has been exhibited ip London and
Paris.”
The works of tho watch were so
that they fitted lengthwise in the hold¬
er. The mainspring was an elongated
coil of steel fitted to the wheels by a
tiny chain, and worked like an old
fashioned clock, weight. The works
were wound by means of a little
screw of gold on the under side of the
handle. A gold pen was fitted in the
holder, and the jeweller wrote with it
without disturbing the operations of
the fairy watch.
“AVhat’s the r the eustohier
asked.
“A round $500,” replied the jewel
ler, laughing.— New York Sun. m
■