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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.”