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1
I a: Sfc S3 H GEORGIA 4
' Eflit.r, ,ml
TRe Kindly Sleep.
tko homeless baby's oryin^
Tender Sleep 1
£ i z Every folded violet
May the outer storm forget
These vret lids with kisses drying,
Through them creep !
Soothe the soul that lies thought-wenry,
Murmurous Sleep!
Like a hidden brooklet’s song,
Rippling gorgeous woods among,
Tinkling down the mountains dreary,
White and steep.
0‘er the aged pour thy blessing
Holy Sleep!
Like u soft and ripening min,
Falling on the yellow grain;
For the glare of suns oppressing,
Fil'ing weep!
• On thy still soas met together,
Charmed Sleep!
Hear them swell a drowsy hymning,
Swans to silvery music swimming,
Floating with unruffled feather
O’er the deep.
THE SILK UMBRELLA.
BY ELWOOD BURKE.
It was raining heavily, and there
seemed a likelihood that the storm
would continue all day.
The overhanging clouds were black
and heavy, and the rain drops fell
with such a persistent and unceasing
palter, patter, patter, that the gutters
became swiftly moving rivers, and the
streets one vast morass.
Chauncey Walton lazily surveyed his
dripping surroundings from the rear
bench of an open street-car, and al
lowed liis half-consumed cigar to go
out.
He was very rich, and having been
“born to the purple,” so to speak, had
all of those indescribable tastes which
betoken the true gentleman.
He dressed quietly, though elegant¬
ly, and everything from his light spring
hat to his smartly polished shoes was
in harmony.
bands rested on
of a silk umbrella,
«4h ,k 1166$, ■
As the car neared the street corner
where he was to ge't off, he shook out
the folds of his umbrella, and edged
toward the side of tjie car.
He had no desire to splash his pol¬
ished shoes and signaled for the driver
to stop.
At the same time a lady, young and
very quietly and modestly dressed, rose
from her seat, and started to alight
The rain was now descending in tor¬
rents, and Chauncey Walton, standing
in the narrow step which ran along
the side of the car, with bi3 umbrella
upraised, shrugged his shoulders, and
tossed away his cigar.
The car came to a stand-still, and
the young lady before mentioned, hesi¬
tated a moment before stepping into
the muddy street.
Chauncey, who had alighted, noticed
that she was unprovided with an um¬
brella, and with true gallantry, ad¬
vanced to her side.
“Allow me!” he said, raising his
hat, and sheltering her with the um¬
brella.
“Ob, thank you, sir!” said a musical
voice, and by the time they reached
the pavement Chauncey shoes were
sadly splashed.
He glanced down at them ruefully,
shrugged his shoulderes. and then ven¬
tured it furtive look at his companion.
A round and pretty face, intellect¬
ual and well-bred, was raised to his,
and a pair of large, expressive blue
eyes took in the contour of his face.
“If you will permit me,” said Chaun
eey, pulling a card from his pocket,
“you are welcome to the umbrella. I
have only a short distance to go, and
can easily make it. My address is on
that card, and you can return the um¬
brella at your convenience.”
He raised his bat, bowed low, as the
lady murmered her thanks, and then,
puilmg ,vvp the collar of his coat,
■truck oat boldly through the rain.
When he reached the magnificent
home that he shared with an only sis¬
ter and a maiden aunt, ho was soaked
to the skin, and Clarice Walton, meet¬
ing him in the hallway, clasped her
hands in playful horror as she regard¬
ed bis dripping garments.
"Why, Chauncey!” she exclaimed,
“had you no umbrella?”
“1 had, but a lady who got off at the
same corner, needed it more than I
did, and I very cheerfully relinquish¬
ed it,”
“You careless fellow!” cried Clarice,
patting his cheek, “your chivalry will
cost you your life one of these day. It
wouldn’t surprise me a bit if you were
laid up with rheumatism or pneumo¬
nia, or a bad cold, or something of
SPRING PLACE. GEORGIA, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 10, 1885.
the sort Change your clothes in¬
stantly, and come to dinner. I have
nows to tell you.”
First kissing his pretty sister, who
was something of a tyrant, and order¬
ed him about as though he were a
school-boy, Chauncey ascended to his
room to change his clothing.
When he descended to the lower
floor Clarice was awaiting him in the
library.
’’Dinner i3 not quite ready,” she
said, rising to meet him, “and, until
it’s announced, I want to talk to you
about my dearest friend Mabel Wright,
from whom I have just received a let¬
ter. It ought to have been here day
before yesterday, but she thinking we
were in the country, addressed the let¬
ter to Oaklands, and it was remailed to
me there, delaying its reception two
days.”
“Oh, bother!” muttered Chauncey
under his breath, with an ill-suppress¬
ed yawn, but he threw himself into a
ehair, and tried to look interested.
Meanwhile Clarice unfolded the let¬
ter and began to read paragraphs here
and there.
Mabel was coming to Boston to visit
a relative, and would be pleased to
call upon her dear Clarice. She had
heard so much of that paragon of a
brother of hers, that she was anxious
to meet him, etc., etc. All of which
Chauncey heard, as in a dream, for he
was thinking of the quietly dressed lit¬
tle figure, who had thanked him so
sweetly for the loan of his umbrella,
but he made suitable replies when his
sister extravagently praised the beauty
of Miss Mabel Wright, although he
gave a sigh of relief when dinner was
announced.
Somehow, his thoughts wandered a
great deal to the stranger, during the
next two days, but when, at the expi¬
ration of that period, his umbrella was
not returned, he laughed cynically,
and softly quoted a stanza from an old
German ballad, about a naiad and a
kfiight, and purchased a new umbrella.
The next morning he received a tel¬
egram which necessitated a journey to
the far West, where he was ipterested
in an extensive land operation.
lie poked a few necessary articles
into a valise, and donning a traveling
suit, ran down to Clarice’s boudoir, to
tell her that he was going.
“IIow unfortunate!” she cried, when
he showed her the telegram; “Can’t
you postpone the trip?”
“No it is impossible ! My presence
is imperatively needed.”
“And Mable will come to-morrow.
I have written, inviting her to spend a
couple of weeks with us; and I am so
anxious for you to meet her.
“I am very sory, but I think I shall
have to forego the pleasure of meeting
Miss Mabel Wright,” said Chauncey,
and kissing Clarice he hastoned away’.
The business complications were
more serious than he had at first im¬
agined, and it was not until thebegin
ing of September that ho telegraphod
Clarice to look for Hm.
He expected the carriage would be
at the depot when he arrived, but.,
finding none, he boarded a street car
It was raining, and instinctively his
thought reverted to another rainy day,
and he longed for his missing um¬
brella.
Several times he was tempted to
stop and purchase one on the way, but
put it off until all the stores had been
passed.
“Well, I’m in for it again!” he said,
and, reaching the old familiar corner,
he alighted and ran to the sidewalk,
which was shaded by an awning.
A lady came out of the store, and he
stepped aside for her to pass.
She raised her umbrella, and he
caught a glimpse of her face.
A long gossamer cloak protected
her slender form now, but the face
that was raised to his was the one he
had met on the same corner several
months before.
”My naiad, by jove!” he muttered,
“and I’ll be blessed if she ain’t carry¬
ing my umbrella!”
A hot flushed dyed the cheek of the
lady and Chauncey ground his teeth,
. for having uttered his brutal com¬
ment.
“I beg .pardon, Mr. Walton," she
said, facing him quickly, “but this is
the first opportunity I have had of re¬
turning the umbrella you so kindly
loaned me several- months ago. I
thank you for the kind service. I
saved me from a disagreeable wet¬
ting—”
And gave me one,” said Chauncey,
laughing.
"I am thankful that I can prevent
a<f /rence of the catastrophe,” said
ll, xady, gravely, and she held out
the umbrella.
“But it is still raining,” said Chaim
cey,” and custom gives me courage to
brave another wetting.”
“My gossamer is sutMicut protec
tlon,” she said, placing the umbrella
in his hands, and with a little
she turned and left him. *
..
He was half tempted to follow
and stood on the corner several min
utes, staring after her.
“I wonder how she learned my
name?” he said half aloud, and then,
recollecting the card he had given her,
he shrugged his shoulders, and raised
the umbrella.
“Quite a coincidence,” he muttered,
and walked away.
Clarice came down to meet him
and after kissing him a multitude of
times, and commenting upon his bron¬
zed face and One appearance, she said:
“I was away when your telegram
arrived, and Auntie mislaid it. She
thought you were to arrive to-morrow,
and when the telegram was found it
was too late to catch the train. I am
glad you had an umbrella, though.
“Yes. It was the one 1 loaned to a
lady several months ago, just before
my departure for the West. She must
have received intelligence that I
would arrive at the corner, umbrella¬
less; for when I alighted from the car,
she received me, and returned the um¬
brella in the most cool and matter of
course way, and he told Clarice the
whole story.
It Is very funny,” she said, "I hope
you didn’t fall in love with her. I’ve
heard of such things.”
"Nonsense,” said Chauncey, al¬
though his bronze face colored. Don’t
be foolish.”
“1 think you will like Mabel
Wright,” said Clarice. She has been
to Mount Desert, spending the sum
mer, and is stopping over with mo a
“Th, re she is now ^tho .leer «rirl ”
cried Clarice, bounding into the hall,
“Sheinsisted ongoing out to make a
few purchases, and wouldn’t wait for
the carriage ”
Chauncey was turning over the
leaves of a portfolio when the two
girls entered the room, and when he
looked up, a low cry escaped him.
“This is my friend, Miss Mable
Wright-” began Clarice, but Cbaun
cey stepped quietly forward, and Ma
bel gave him her hand.
“We have met before,” he said, and
then he related the story of theirdoub
le chance meeting.
Well cards are out for the wedding,
and Chauncey will always treasure
the silk umbrella ,—Chicago Ledger.
The Rise of Postage Stamps. i
It is estimated that every year about
50,000,000,000 letters are posted in the
world. America leads, with about 2,-
500,000,000, and England follows with
700,000,000, Japan, which established
a postal service only ten years ago
now mails annually 95,000,000 letters
Postage stamps are of a far more re¬
cent origin than many people imagine, |
Great Britain was the first country t<
issue them, and in 1840 a prepaid en¬
velope made its appearance, designed i
by IV. MulreaJy. Prepaid letter sheets
were issued about the same time, there;
being two denominations, one penny j
and two penny. Before that time pos- i
tage was prepaid at the postofl.ee, oi
what was even more common, collect
ed upon delivery. Now almost every j
country in the civilized world has |
adopted this method of prepaying pos- i
tage. Strange as it may appear, Bra
zil, in 1843, was the first nation to fol- j
low Great Britain’s example. It was
not until 1847 that the United States
began to use postage stamps, but sev¬
eral years prior to that time the post¬
masters at New York, St. Louis, Bal¬
timore, New Ilaveo, Providence and
Brattleboro had issued stamps for
their own convenience.— Cincinnati
Enquirer.
The Depth of It.
“How deep is that hole?” asked an
anxious inquirer of a laborer digging
a well.
“Don’t know; never measured it,”
was the none-of-your-business style ol
reply.
“How far would I go if I should fall
in?” was the next question.
“ To the bottom, I reckon, if you’re
heavy enough to sink,” and t lie ques
tioner didn’t pursue his investigations,
- Merchant Traveller, [
I GIVE AND BEQUEATH/’
interesting Facts About the
Making of Wills.
^ 10 ® a3a a Wealthy New York Lady :
wk o Died Intestate, j
"—
Migded. /The hesitation of otherwise strong- j
and sensible people to make j
v ‘ !l3 * s il common idiosyncrasy,
0 death 01 Mrs. Charles Morgan |
wlVhout . a will is a case in point, Mrs.
^' r 8 ilild an a W!ls disease in » most sense generally au invalid. ; ,
U££ prov- ;
fatal; which obliged her to take
groat care of herself, and which limit
ed her diet to comparatively few arti
files. This disease she did not die of,
but the fact of its probable termina
tiou was constantly before her.
Mrs. Morgan spent her life, as it is
known, in collecting about her rare
plants and precious works of art. Her
ofehids, which occupied the extensive
glass houses over the stables and in
the rear of the house, comprehended
the rarest examples. For one variety,
of which there is but one other known
example, she paid $1200—the king of
Holland or Belgium possessing the
other— and less sums were commonly
expended. With these she was most
generous, and constantly surprised her
friends with tho gift of large boxes of
Btrange-hued and strange-formed flow
ers.
The pictures and bric-a-brac were
knothi as among the choicest of the
town, and tho comparative seclusion
in which Mrs. Morgan lived was usu¬
ally broken by her desire to please her
friends by showing them some new
treasure of art. To the house in
which she lived in Madison square she
attached a great deal of sentiment. 1
Mr. < harles Morgan was not a man !
addicted to the arts. The drawing¬
room of tho house ho himself had fur
a handsome but florid stylo
nism in a house in whi,;h modern dec
oration had in parts transformed, and
was transforming at her death, into
° ne of U * e rlchoat interior3 in New
* ork - Mrs - Morgan spoke familiarly
to those with whom s!le discussed
these matters, of the ultimate disposi
tlon of 1,er ,hln « 3 ' Certain W0lks of
art ll was her intention to give to the
Metropolitan Museum, others were to
be iegneta to different P^ple. The
r / sul f ce ’ on acco “ nt of this sentiment
for ber , husban(l a memor ?’ would
bro ' ably have been » iven to Mr ' Mor ‘
tbo oC his on G
dau S htar ’ a New Orleans;
at lea3fc such were t,ie mtimations
given by her to different persons.
Leaving Now York in as good
health as usual, Mrs. Morgan was
stricken by another swift iHnes-s at
Saratoga, and in a few hours died,
without a moment of consciousness.
Dying without a will and without
children, the immense property, works
of art, orchids, souvenirs, house, goes
to her own family, That the bulk of
her property would have been thus
disposed of if Mrs. Morgan had made
a will is inevitable, but it is as certain
that she would have made some per¬
manent disposition of her works of
art and other special possessions, which
will now pass into the hands of the
IclW ’
T he makin o£ wills wlth many
le is attended with aU sort9 of 8U .
stition . There is an Amerl can now
Uvi in Parl3 who has been ttiere for
year8i anii ha3 accumulated - a
, arge fortunein valuable and unique
worka of art _ Thig man is a bacholor>
andiiis heir is a brother whom he
hates. Moreover for years he has had
rheumatic gout. These attacks have*
often brought him to the verge of the
grave. Each time his will, guarding
his fortune against this unloved broth¬
er, has been made, but no matter how
low he has been, it has never been
signed, and regularly, on recovery, has
been torn up, His friends all know
of the situation, and most ridiculous
scenes have been the consequence.
One time when it was surely thought
that the end was near, the supposed
clying man was held up with quill in
hand and a geheral scurry was made
for witnesses, His waiters were
brought up from the dining-room, but
an American lady happening by ven¬
tured the information that the laws of
the United States required two Amer
'.cans as witnesses. Here was one, and
messengers had to be sent right and
left to another native.- This is
only one of kindred scenes whenever
VOL. V. New Series. No. 44.
:
an attack comes on. It is a question ;
among the man’s intimates if the
brother will not inherit after all.
The making of wills abroad is full
of liabilities. Different States have
different laws touching wills made in
foreign countries. In Pennsylvania,
if we mistake not, the law demands
residents of the State as witnesses,
The difficulty of securing them would
easily invalidate any will made out
s i de 0 f Pennsylvania. One of the
niost methodical business men in Phil- i
adelphia had a curious experience.!
When a young man, some few days
before his marriage, moved by some
fear of sudden death, he wrote his j
own will, leaving to his betrothed as
bis wife, a third of his property, lie
lived to raise sons and daughters,
never altered his will. When he died
the will was found to be invalid,
since there was no such person as this
wife when the will was made. Hap¬
pily the law did for his wife what her
husband tried to do for her .—New
York Mail and Express.
Thc Icelanders.
With the exception of the priests
(Lutheran) and a few merchants, the
people aro all farmers. Those who
live near the sea, or one of the many
fjords, combine several occupations,
and thus gain a good livelihood or
even wealth. The priests hold their
positions under the government, and
are paid from the public treasury, but
they generally add farming to their
official duties. The merchants have
their stores at one of the small villa¬
ges about tho coast, and carry a stock
of almost every imaginable thing.
Sometimes they employ agents who
travel through the country buying po
nies, which they ship to Scotland,
or perhaps they own a small vessel,
which coasts around tho island buying
oil and codfish.
The farmer obtains all necessaries
of life from the land and waters
nish inexhaustible supplies of peat for
the rivers swarm with salmon
during the summer, anil the sheep
yield wool for his clothing. If near
the sea, the almost domesticated eider
duck contributes its eggs and down ,\
the seals and sharks give oil for his!
light, and codfish are added to his win¬
ter stores. Once a year he journeys to
Iiykjavik, or one of tho smaller towns,
and barters his produce for things that
serve to make his isolated life more
comfortable. Usually wool and elder
down are the things brought.
For these he is given credit by the
merchant and ’ permitted to draw his
yearly supply of goods, zonsisting of
rye meal, Hour, coffee,sugar, calico and
lumber. Upon the farms the houses
are, with very few exceptions, clusters
of low, turf-covered huts, with gable
ends, doors and window frames of wood,
and if seen from a distance are not
easily recognized by the stranger.
Sheep, and even ponies, ars frequently
seen upon the roofs in quest of grass
that grows more luxuriantly there
than in the pastures; blit within
houses are Oi ten made very com Porta
ble, by being paneled and floored with
wood, painted and sometimes nicely
furnished .—Pittsburg Disputch.
1
Piling Up Material for History,
“I have of making been engaged books in the for busi-j
ness scrap the
past thirty-five years,’ said a biblio-;
maniac, “and 1 have in my collection
nearly seven tons of newspaper clip¬
pings on every conceivable subject
from cowboys to evolution. I have
complete biographies of every promi¬
nent man and woman in the world,
anecdotes about them and editorial
comments on their failures and suc¬
cesses. My clippings about Queen
Victoria, for instance, would fill sev¬
eral good sized volumes. I have a
thousand colums of material about
Gen. Grant. It is one of my daily
pleasures to arrange this mass of mat¬
ter in a convenient form for reference.
I don’t know that I will ever be able
to make use of it, but the historian oi
the future will find it a rich mine ol
information. When I die I shall leave
tho whole collection to one of the large
libraries .—Philadelphia Times.
He Was Restless.
Angelina: “Have you ever met
Mr. Fitzwilkins, the poet ?”
Wilhelmina: “Oh, yes, indeed I
Charming man, isn’t he. Such a
fascinating, restless manner he has.”
Angelina: “Yes ; did you know
that ho had St, Vitus’ dance.’’—
Rambler,
To-Morrow.
To-morrow, amt to-morrow,
O fair ami far away,
What treasures lie, when hope is high
Along your shining way.
What promises fulfilled,
What bettor deods to do
Than ever yet, uro soli !y set
Dencatb your skies ol blue.
To-morrow, and to-morrow,
O sweet and tiir away,
Still ever more load on before
Along your shining way.
Still ever more lilt up our eyos
Above wliat wo have won,
To higher needs, and finer deeds
That we have left undone.
— A'ora Perry.
HUMOROUS.
A long felt want—A new hat.
A worth-v old maid—one worth
160,000 or more.
Taking the cents of the meeting—
passing around the hat.
“Beware of imitations,” as the
monkey said to the dude.
The man who rises by his profes
lion—A builder of elevators.
“Good gracious," said the hen, when
she discovered the porcelain egg in her
aest, “I shall be a bricklayer next.”
Any man who can umpire a baseball
game and please both sides, has in him
the main qualifications of a successful
politician.
An exchange gives a recipe for “a
dangerous heart disorder.” But sup¬
pose a man hasn't a dangerous heart.
What then ?
When a man was knocked down and
trampled by a sheep and asked how he
felt, he said; “A little under the
wether.”
“The tomato is a very healthy fruit,”
says an exchange. Don’t know about
that. We see a good many tomatoes
that look very sick.
Cannibalism is still practiced by
1,250,000 people, and it is very evident
tfmrttHraemand
long exceed the supply. x
“Is it true that a beo can pull more
in proportion than a horse?—Anx¬
ious.” “Oh! yes. It is also true that
a bee can push more than he can pull.”
An old proverb says: “All things
come to him who can wait.” If a
man fees the waiter, some of the
things will come to him much sooner?
“Pa,” said a little boy, “what is an
absolute monarchy ?” “I can’t explain
It, my son, so that you can compre¬
hend it. Wait until you married,
my son, and then you will know it.”
An Ohio Court has decided that a
man is the owner of his wife’s clothes.
If his wife’s new bonnet at any time
does not please him, lie can wear it
himself. This is a very important
decision.
ON THE WttONG TACK.
With her thumb on n bluek-lioailoii taok,
With a hammer upraised in her hand,
Taking aim to obtain n good whack,
A woman sits smiling and bland;
It woman ails smiling and bland,
^ on the balf . earpetud flooi .
where taoks lie like shells on the strand,
Unnumbered and thirsty for gore,
With nyell that might make negroes pale,
With a leup which a goat enu’t surpass,
With a inangled and bleeding thumb nail
she laIls in e oh « ,r * a llm P mnis <
She falls in a chair, a limp mass,
And groans till tho pain flees away—
A beautiful omblem, alas ’
Of energy sadly astray.
Where Colored People Came From,
There are a few colored people in
this country, says a newspaper writer,
who know from what African tribes
they sprang, and just where their an¬
cestors lived in the dark continent, be¬
fore they camo to America in the
hold of slave ships. By far the larg¬
er part’of our Africa fellow-citizens
came originally from the dense forests
of Senegambia, Liberia, and Guinea,
many from the low downs and lightly
timbered region of the lower Congo,
and a much smaller number from the
half sterile|sea board of Portuguese An¬
gola. The further inland station of
white slave dealers was at Boma, on
the Congo, only sixty-five miles from
the ocean. The territory from which
they filled their slave pens extended
inland only as far as Isanglia, Stan¬
ley's second station, one hundred and
fifty miles from the coast The Amer¬
ican slave trade, except in the Niger
basin, was a traffic in coast negroes.
Behind the monutuin barriers that di¬
vided the low-lying seaboard from the
plateaus of central Africa, dwelt mil¬
lions of other and very different peo¬
ple whom Livingstone and his success¬
ors have made known to the world..