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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..