Newspaper Page Text
NORTH GEORGIA TIMES. a
--—-----
Wm. 0. MARTIN, Editor.
Tired.
1 am tired. Heart and feet
Tarn from busy mart and street.
I am tired—Rest is sweet.
I am tired. I have played
In tto^un and in the shade,
1 have seen the flowers fad.,
I an tired. I have had
What has made my spirit glad
What has made my spirit sad.
I am tired. Loss and gain !
;Golden sheaves and scatter’d grain
£)uy has not been spent iu vain.
Anm tired. Eventide
i Bids Bids me me lay iu my cares hopes aside, abide.
I am tired. God is near,
it-atme sleep without a fear,
me die without a tear.
1 am tired. I would vest
As the bird within its nest!
1 am tired. Home is best.
EARNING HER LIVING.
Minna’s room was not light at the
bast of times. Its one window, plant¬
ed dormer-fashion In the roof, gave a
view of the blank whitewashed side
of an adjoining house, which towered
up a story or so higher than its
unpretentious neighbors.
Rut Minna—a personage who always
Biade the best of things—had abso¬
lutely persuaded herself that this was
the best light in the world for her oil
painting.
‘ There are no bursts of sunshine or
stray sunbeams to disturb the clear,
cool atmosphere,” said she. "Artists
always prefer this sort of light.”
For Minna Morton was a working
girl. Too delicate to stand behind the
counter or superintend the busy loom,
she yet endeavored to earn her own
livelihood by means of an artist’s pal¬
ette and sheaf of brushes.
Her outfit had cost a considerable
sum—there was no denying that; but
Rosa Hale, who stitched kid gloves in
a down-town factory, had lent her the
money for the purchase, and little
Bess Beaton, the landlady’s daughter,
" SAt " to her two hours day after
- every
school, quite satisfied ( with ginger
bread nuts to munch and a battered
ra g doll, which had belonged to Min¬
na’s ofvn younger days, to play with.
And Minna was young and hopeful,
and in the far distance saw herself
acquiring name and fortune by means
of her beloved art.
This morning, however, the room
"seemed a degree gloomier than its
118 vont; and when Alinna arrang
ed f canvas on the easel, a dim sort
^hn iPgtVfCi'gJu i ept across her heart.
It was a simple piqturu playing*o2T» that she had
painted—a little girl sun
flecked barn-floOr, with a brood
chickens fluttering around her, ami a
stealthy cat advancing from beneath
tangled masses of hay.
Yesterday the little girl had seemed
animated with real, actual life; the hay
had seemed to rustle in the wind;'one
could almost perceive the sinuous,
gliding motion of the cat. But to-ddy
it was as if a leaden spell had descend¬
ed upon everything.
“Am I an artist?” Minnadisked her;
self; “or am I not?”
Rose Hale’s step, coming softly down
the stairs, aroused her from a disa¬
greeable reverie.
She hurried to the door, with the
almost invisible limp which had al¬
ways haunted her since that unlucky
fall of her childhood.
“Rosa,” she said, “are you in a hur¬
ry ? Do come in a moment!”
And Rosa came in, with tier little
brown bonnet neatly tied underneath
her chin, and her lunch-basket in her
hand, on her way to the factory where
“real imported kid gloves, fresh from
Paris,” ware turned out by the dozen
gross a day.
“What is it. Minna?” she asked
cheerfully. _
“Loot at this picture,” said Alinna,
drawing hqr up in front of the easel *•.
“Well, I’m looking,” said Rosa.
“What do you think of it?”
“What do 1 think of it?” Rosa re¬
peated. “Why, I think it is beautiful!”
“Oh, I know that!” impatiently
cried Minna. “The bits of hay are
painted to perfection, and the rat
holes in the barn-floor are copied ex¬
actly after that one in the corner of
the cupboard; but all that isn’t true
art, Rosa. Does the child look as if
she would speak to you?”
“The checks in her gingham apron
are painted beautifully,” said Rosa,
timidly.
Minna frowned.
“But the cat?” said she. “Is it a
Do you fancy you are going
SPRING PLACE. GEORGIA. THURSDAY JANUARY 28* 1886.
“N-no,” unwillingly admitted Rosa.
“It’s a lovely cat, but it is only a pict¬
ure of a cat! Minna—dear Minna, I
haven’t offended you, have I?”
“Oh, no!” said Minna, lightly. “But
you have told me exactly what 1 want¬
ed to know—what I was sure of my¬
self. Good-by, Rosa!—and mind you
don’t bring me any more of those deli¬
cious little bouquets. They’re lovely,
but they cost five cents, and you
haven’t any five-cent pieces to throw
away.”
And so, with a loving kiss, she dis¬
missed the pink-cheeked little factory
girl, who was always so kind to her;
and then she sat down in the Upas 1
shadow of the dismal whitewashed
wall, and cri#d:
“I knew it all along,” she declared.
“You are a hideous little imposter!”
(to the simpering figure in the fore¬
ground). “And you” (to the cat)
“are simply a thing of wood. And I
am not an artist at all! If—”
“Rat, tat, tat!” came a soft knock
at the door. ,
Minna started guiltily to her feet,
and dashed away the wet spray of
tears from her cheek.
"Come in!” said she.
And to her horror, she saw standing
there a tall, pleasant-faced young man.
“What did you please to want,?”
said she, rather timidly.
“I—I beg your pardon!” said he.
“But are you the young lady who sent
a note to Falmer. •& (&., picture deal¬
ers ? Aly father' has'an attack of lum¬
bago this morning, and he is unable to
come out He has sent me in his
stead.”
Minna colored deeply as she remem¬
bered that in, her elation of the day
before she had actually been so foolish
as to write to Rainier & Co. to send up
an expert to value her picture for the
salesroom.
“Where is the picture?" he asked.
'
“Is this It?”
“Yes,” Minna answered, with an
:odd, choking (lensation ’ in her / fihroat.,
f “But—but—”
It was of no use. The tears would
come. She sat down in the cushioned
window-seat, and hid her face in her
hands.
“Has anything happened?” asked
Mr. Paul Palmer, genuinely discon¬
certed.
"Nothing more than might have
been expected,” said Minna, trying to
smile. “Please don’t think me foolish!
Yesterday I fancied that this daub of
mine was a gem of art. Now my eyes
ha-qe been opened. I know that it is
wprthless!”
Mr - Palmer glanced scrutinizingly
at the picture,
“But,” said he, “are you sure that
you are the best judge?”
“Onacan trust one’s own instinct,”
said ISpua, sadly. “I am sorry to
have troubltCj ®|ea But you so much unnecessary
1 am not rich, and I
thought;: I had discovered a way of'
earning my living. It is a bitter dis¬
appointment to me; but 1 suppose it is
an old story to you, Air. Palmer.”
Paul was silent. In the eourse of
•his business he had witnessed many
trying"scenes, but his heart ached ior
this pale little girl, with the sunny,
flax-gold hair brushed away from her
forehe id, and the almost imperceptible
limp in her gait. It seemed to him as
if he could read her story almost as
plainly as if it were written on her
face in printed sentences.
“Suppose you let tne take the pict¬
ure home and submit it to my father’ r
opinion?” he said, calmly.
“I do not believe it will be of any
use,” sighed Alinna. “It seems as if
my ey& had been unsealed all too late.
I am no artist I am only a fraud.
Oh, yes," as he looked inquiringly at
her, “you can take it. The sooner I
know my fate, tne better it will be for,
me.
So Mr. Palmer wrapped up the can¬
vas in a piece of brown paper, bowed
a quiet “good-by,” and departed.
All that day Minna sat in a sort of
terrified suspense, scarcely daring to
breathe. Toward night Mr. Palmer
came back.
“Well?” she gasped, breathlessly.
“I am happy to say that the picture
is accepted,” said he. “I have brought
you twenty-five dollars for it. And I
would like a pair of smaller cnes—
companion subjects—as soon as you
can furnish them.”
Minna Alorton gave a little gasp for
breath.
“Ob!” she cried, “you do. not really
mean! it. Accepted! and more want¬
ed! Oh, it don’t seem possible!”
“How soon can iyou have them
ready?” said Paul, quietly, “In a
month ?”
“Yes, in less tifcte than that,’
answered Minna, half giddy with de¬
light. “I shall worlHWay and night.
Oh, Mr. Palmer, how kind you are! ;
Indeed, indeed, yon dqnot know what
all this means for me!”
If Minna could have been tempora
rily clairvoyant that day—if she could
have followed Paul Palmer back to the
“art emporium,’’ where his father,
half doubled up with lumbago, sat
viewing his recent acqbfeition wcSld through
an eye-glass—what have been
her feelings? •»
“Paul,” said he, curtly, “this thing
that you have brought home isn’t
worth shop-room ?”
"What is the matter with it, sir?”
“Nothing—nothing ftn earth. The
trouble,” said Mr. Palmer, vindictive¬
ly, "is that there is nothing to it. It
is negative from beginning to end.
Tell the artist we can find no sale for
such trash!”
But Paul Palmer carried back no
such message. He went and came
often. He spoke words of kindly
encouragement to the poor young girl,
and paid, out of his own pocket, liber¬
al prices for her efforts.
! And one day he asketPher to be his
wife, and Minna promised that she
would. - • > .»
.“Heretofore,” said she, “I have al¬
ways dreamed of. devoting myself .to
art; but of late I am not so hopeful.
It seems as if my poor pinions are not
strong enough to soar. Yes, Paul, if
you care for a helpless lame girl like
me—”
“I love you, Minna,” he said, simply.
“If you will trust yourself to me, I
will never give you cause to repent it.”
It was not until they had been mar¬
ried some years, and old Air. Palmer,
the picture dealer, was dead and bur¬
ied, that Minna, wandering through
the deserted rooms of the old ware
house, with a rosy-cheek£%cbild cling¬
ing to-the skirts of her gown, came
across some dust-powdered canvasses,
with their faces turned to the wall.
“Oh, look, mamma!” cried little
Paul. “What are these?”
“Let us examine them, dear,” said
she.
They were her own long-forgotten
efforts! She stood looking at them,
through a mist of tears and smiles.
“Dear, noble Paul!” she murmured
to herself. “This only adds to the
debt of gratitude that I already owe
hitn. But he need not have been so
tender of my feelings. 1 know now
that art, so far as I am concerned,
was a delusion and a snare. I know
that my truest happiness, my greatest
felicity, has been in cherishing him
and the children.”
And she never told Paul that she
had discovered his long-guarded secret,
—Helen Forrest Graves.
Proud Deacons.
Human nature is much the same
the world over, and if the following
anecdotes have Scotchmen for their
heroes, the same thing might have
happened anywhere else than in the
highlands. It should be said that in
Scotland a deacon is the chairman of a
corporation of tradesmen, and not a
church officer.
Two worthy incumbents,who fretted
their little hour upon a stage not far
from tiie banks of the Ayfi happened
to be chosen deacons on the same (lav. i
The more youthful of the two flew j
home to tell his Young wife what an!
important prop of the civic edifice he
had been allowed lo become; and
searching the “but and ben" in vain,
ran out to "the bvre, where, meeting
the cow, he could no longer contain
his joy, but, in the fifllness of his
heart, clasped her round the neck, ex¬
claiming:
“Oh, crummie, crummie, ye’re nae
langer a common cow—ye’re a dea¬
con’s cow!”
The elder civic dignitary Was a se¬
date, pious person, and felt rather
“blate” in showing to his wife that he
was uplifted above this world’s honors.
As he thought, however, it was too
good a piece of news to allow her to
remain any time ignorant of, he lifted
the latch of his own door, an^l stretch¬
ing his head inward— ‘
“Nelly 1 ” said he, ,in a voice that
made Nelly all ears ansi eyes, “gifany¬
body comes spierin’ for the deacon, I’m
just owre the gate at John Tamson’s!”
The champion swimmer of the wofld
is an Englishman, appropriately named
Finny. ■ ■
THE SIEGE OF ATLANTA.
Reminiscence of Sherman’s
March to the Sea.
How Georgia's Capital was Beleagured
and Defexded.
Noting the discovery of an old
bombshell joy an Atlanta well-digger,
the Constitution of that city says:
During the seige of Atlanta in 1864,
it was a practical question and one of
vital interest how to dodge them.
Gradually the Confederate lines drew
nearer the city. The faint-echo of
their guns was heard ten miles away.
When the lines fell back to the river
there was a universal wail in Atlanta.
Thie river had been regarded as a har¬
rier beyond which the invader could
not come, and there was a constant
expectation that Johnston would do
something to paralize his enemy.
fine evening about dusk came the
news to the city that the Confederate
troops had crossed the river and
burned the bridge behind them. That
announcement stilled a thousand
hearts in the beleaguered city. There
was then no alternative but capture.
The people knew the relative force of
the armies. They were well aware
that Sherman had over 100,000 men
eiated with a successful march into
the heart of their enemy’s country,
whilo opposing them' were about 40,
000 men in grey, who had been fight¬
ing a slow and desperate retreat.
After .the river was crossed the
Federal army swept with little ob¬
struction to the very outskirts of the
city. Atlanta then had a regular pop¬
ulation of about 10,000, but the con¬
centration of war supplies and the im¬
portance attached to it as a base of
supplies had run the population up to
20,000 or 25,0p0. The city was teem¬
ing with peotjjifc, all in great agitation
when they h-y d that the invador had
ret his foot on.P.v, eastern' bank of the
Chattahoochee! f
How to uei'end the city i was the next
question. It Was answered by
very practical and intelligent men
whose duty to the Sonthern Confeder¬
acy had kept them in or around At¬
lanta. Chief among these was Colonel
L. P. Grant the present president of
the Atlanta and West Point Railroad.
Colonel Grant planned three complete
lines of fortifications. One was to
skirt the boundary of the city. The
other was to surround the thickly-set¬
tled districts, while the third was to
encircle the very heart of the city, with
the Court-house as a sort of final ram¬
part and stronghold. All these works
were duly constructed according to
Colonei Grant’s plans, and the defences
of Atlanta, were famous for their
ingenuity and strength. But the
Federal forces fought their way on
until they were within cannon shot of
the city. They tried by several des¬
perate assaults like that of J uly ‘22d, a
mile beyond the cemetery, and like the
bloody onslaught on Peachtree Creek,
a few days later, to sweep right into
the city. In all these efforts they
were checked by a force hardly half as
great as that of the invaders. McPher¬
son fell in sight of the city. Many
officers of minor rank fell Men were
mowed down like wheat by the de¬
termine! defenders of the city. It
must be a slow seige to win.
Sherman realized this fact quickly,
and accordingly adjusted his forces.
Batteries with the heaviest guns he
could command were placed in front
of the Federal lines. They were al¬
most completely around the city.
Their range was four or five miles, and
they had only a mile or a mile and a
half to cover. Shells poured thick
into the city, and a reign of terror be
gan.
Then came the bomb proof. It was
the only refuge from the shells of the
beseigers. Every household soon had its
place of refuge. The bomb proof con¬
sisted of a perpendicular hole in the
ground about four feet square, and a
tunnel of six feet which led into a
vault of various dimensions. The av¬
erage size of the bomb proof was 10x12
feet, out many of them were larger.
Some of them were luxuriously fur¬
nished, and offered all the comforts of
home in the retreat under ground
from the sizzling and popping shells.
So far as protection to life was con
earned they were perfect. No shell
coulij penetrate through the roof of
sofl, and there was not a chance in a
million that any of the enemy’s::mis
siles would fall in the narrow entrance,
The bomb proof was a complete pro-
VOL. V. New Series. No. 51.
! teetion fr0U1 the enemy’s tiery missMes,
and saved many a life iu Atlanta.
Thousands of shells fell in the city
during the six weeks of terror, and
not half a dozen lives were lost. The
most fatal shell fell just in front of
where James’s bank now is. It ex
ploded in the street. One piece killed
a shoemaker in a cellar. Another frag¬
ment murdered a mule o.t the street.
Another piece broke the stone post at
the corner which still bears the mark,
as does the gas post a few feet away,
which was almost cut away by 4he
furious shell.
The bomb proofs remained long af- j
ter the seige. they were objects of
great curiosity to the captors of the
city. When Sherman drove the peo¬
ple out of Atlanta and burned their
houses, the bomb proofs escaped his
vengeance. Many of them remained
until the new city began to rise, and
there are still in many gardens of this
city traces of these improvished de¬
fences of the women and chileren of
Atlanta.
The Mind’s Activity During Sleep.
In connection with the present ac¬
tivity in psychical research, the follow¬
ing extract from the recently publish¬
ed “Life of Agassiz” is of interest.
“He (Agassiz) had been for two
weeks striving to decipher the some¬
what obscure impressions of a fossil
lish on a stone slab in which it was
preserved. Weary and perplexed he
put his work aside at last, and tried to
dismiss it from his mind, Shortly
after, he waked one night persuaded
that while asleep he had seen his fish
with all the missing features perfectly
restored. But when lie tried to hold
and make fast the image, it escaped
him. Nevertheless, he went early to
the Jardin das Plantes, thinking that
on looking anew at the impression he
should see something which would put
him on the track of his vision. In vain
—the blurred record was as blank as
ever. The next night he saw the fish
again, but with no more satisfactory
result. When he awoke it disappear
ed from his memory as before. Hop
ing that the same experience might
be repeated on the third night, he
placed a pencil and paper beside his
bed before going to sleep. According¬
ly, toward morning, the fish reappear¬
ed in his dream, confusedly at first,
but, at last, with such distinctness
that he had no longer any doubt as to
its zoological characters, Still half
dreaming, in perfect darkness, he
traced these characters on tne sheet of
paper at the bedside. In'the morning
he was surprised to see in his noctur¬
nal sketch features which he thought
it impossible the fossil itself should
reveal. He hastened to the Jardin
des Plantes, and, with his drawing for
a guide, succeeded in chiseling away
the surface of the stone under which
portions of the fish proved to be liid
<ien. When wholly exposed, it corres¬
ponded with his dream and his draw¬
ing, and ho succeeded in classifying it
with ease. He often spoke of this as
a good illustration of the well-known
fact, that wi.en the body is at rest the
tired brain will do the work it refused
before.”
Human Electrotypes.
M. Kergovatz, a chemist of Brest,
has proposed a new method of dispos¬
ing of the human body after death,
which he considers preferable in every
way to either burial or cremation.
His system is an antiseptimone, much
simpler and less expensive than the
old process of embalming, and is noth¬
ing more than a new galvanoplastic
application. The body is coated with
a conducting substance, such as plum¬
bago, or is bathed wiih a solution of
nitrate of silver, the after decomposi
tion of which, under the influence of
sunlight, leaves a finely divided depoB
it of metallic silver. It Is then placed
in a bath of copper sulphate, and con¬
nected for electrolysis with several
cells of gravity or other battery of
constant current. The result is that
the body is incased in a skin of copper,
which prevents further change or
chemical action. If desired, this may
be again plated with gold or silver,
according to the taste or wealth of
the friends of the dead. AI. Kergov¬
atz has employed the process eleven
times on human subjects, and on many
animals, and states that in all oases it
was perfectly satisfactory. In spite,
however, of his warm recommenda
cion, the idea is repulsive. It seems a
mockery to give permanence to tfae
temple, when all that once made It
valuable is gone.— Scientific American.
From Afar.
Sweet, that T sec t’uee when thy dimpled (rails
lircal.s fresh across the silver uiisty morn.
And when thy sunny eyes
Shamo all the sunny skies,
And no rose lovely as thy lips inborn—
That is enough.
Sweet, that l hear tbee when thy mellow voice
Floats down the twilight in half-whispered
song,
While every wren and thrush
And nil the robins hush,
Ami listen like my silent heart, and long—
That is enough.
Sweet, that I dream of thee in holy night,
When the tired world bath rocked itself to
And sleep, when yearning heart )
my
Lets day and cure depart,
And findetli rest on Love’s unbroken deep—
That is enough.
— W. J. Hendtrson.
HUMOROUS.
There has been a big jump in the
frog market.
The host kind of servants for hotels
—Inn-experienced.
Teacher—Define “snoring.” Small
boy—Letting off sleep.
The school ma'am who married a
tanner had evidently a glimmering of
the fitness of things.
Some malignant slanderer non
states that a woman needs no euloigst,
for she speaks for herself.
•‘Johnny, if you want to become a
big man you must eat more strong
food.” Johnny—all right; pass the
butter.
“Meet me at the gate, love,” has
been changed to "Meat me at the
grate, love.” The cool weather neces¬
sitated the change.
With what an air of calm superior¬
ity a hen will gobble a worm after the
rooster has scratched it up ’ There are
lots of hens in the world. \ ■
“Did youxlo nothing to resuscitate
the body ?” was recently asked of a
witness. “Yes, sir; we searched the
pockets;”'-was the reply. V
. 1'<mdjmothere- Ar^ , betted
^e-l you my
' W* dutmo ; ia the
3^ *11 «one? “Yes... “Weil, I’m
" e enou gb to get up, then,
seems to me, ’ moaned he, as he
fled toward the front gate, with the
old man behind him, “that there are
more than three feet in a yard.”
"Aly son, how is it that you, are al¬
ways behindhand with your studies ?”
“Because if I were not behindhand
with them, I could not pursue them.”
“I do think that thirteen i3 an un¬
lucky number,” said,a pert young
miss who had just entered her teens.
“It’s too old for dolls and too young
•‘or beaux!“
Wife (before a lion’s cage) to hus¬
band—What would you say if the
bars were suddenly to break, and the
lion to eat me.up? Husband (dryly)
Good appetite!
“I wish I had a receipt for making
my own eye-water,” said a lady; where¬
upon her little daughter remarked:
“Mamma, I can make my eye water
any time by sticking my finger in it.”
“Are your domestic ralations agree¬
able ?” was the question put to an un
happy-looking specimen of humanity.
"O, my domestic relations are all
right,” was the reply, "it’s my wife’s
relations that are causing the trouble."
Grocer (in great haste)—Well, little
girl, what can 1 do for you? Be quick,
now, I’m very busy. Little girl
(frightened)—Please, sir, me m-mud
der sent me f-for a pound of cheese,
b-but if you are very b-busy you can
give me only half a pound.
"Did not the sight of the boundless
blue sea, bearing on its bosom white¬
winged fleets of commerce, fill you
with emotion?" “Yes,” replied the
traveler, “at first it did ; but after a
while it didn’t fill me with anything.
It sorter emptied me.”
The principal of an academy, who
bad just purchased a new bell t.Q hang
on the cupola of the institution, and
also married a handsome woman, made
an unfortunate orthographical error
when he wrote to the president of the
board of trustees: “I have succeeded
in procuring a fine large-tongued
belie." i
A Sunday-school scholar was asked,
apropos of Solomon, who was the great
Queen that traveled so many miles to
see him. The scholar—in fact, the
whole school—looked as if a little help
would be liked, and the teacher, there¬
fore, said: “The Queen’s name begins
with an S." “I’ve got it, sir,” ex
claimed the delighted scholar. “Well,
who was it?” “It was the Queen of
Spudes, sir.”
