Newspaper Page Text
NORTH GEO iRGIA K * * S.
Wm. C. MARTIN, Editor.
One Star.
One star upon the brow of Night
One star, one only gem—
Gleams like a jewel rarely bright,
Upon a queenly forehead white,
In royal diadem.
One star upon the brow of Night
Is all that greets mine eyes,
As, from a lonely mountain height,
I sit and watch the crimson light
Of sunset leave the skies.
—Anna 31. Carpenter in Cassell.
Meek Little Simeon Mix
“Who was the meekest man?” asks the j
catechism, and promptly answers itself
by saying, “Moses.”
The catechism is wrong. It is proba¬
bly excusable, however, for the man who
wrote it was doubtless unacquainted with
little Simeon Alix. If this should come
to the eye. of the author of that cheerful
specimen of orthodox literature, I hope
he will revise his work iu this respect.
The information as to meekness should
he given thus:
Question—Who was the meekest man?
Answer—Little Simeon Alix.
Because there never could have been a
man quite as meek as little Simeon was.
His name was at the head of the Gra.ss
villc Beacon Light as editor, publisher
and proprietor, and so he was; but he
had no more to say about the way things
should be run in the establishment than
the tinker’s apprentice next door had.
Air. Joshua Boggs, the foreman of the
office, was the Beacon Light’s dictator.
Nobody ever thought of going to little
Simeon to have anything put in or left
out of the paper, because they knew that
Air. Boggs would more than likely kill the
one and put in the other; so they always
asked Air. Boggs if so and so could be
noticed, or if such and such a thing
couldn’t be passed over. Little Simeon
never put his copy op the hook with any
thought that it would go iu as he wanted
it, if it went iu at all, and he never vent¬
ured to put copy out if Air. Boggs was
looking. He moved about his establish¬
ment as if lie were an interloper, liable to
be ordered out at any moment. He al¬
ways spoke to and of his foreman as “Air.
Boggs, ” but the foreman was never more
fcipectfui tt> little Simeon than total!
him “Sim.” lie generally addressed
him as “You sap-head.” Air. Boggs
luled the destinies of the Beacon Light
with an iron hand, and little. Simeon per¬
formed the functions of editor, publisher
and proprietor with fear and trembling.
The publication (lay of the Beacon
Light was Tuesday, and it was little Sim¬
eon's well-known desire to have the pa¬
per printed on Alonday night. Conse¬
quently, Air. Boggs issued the paper
promptly on Wednesday afternoons. A
paper dated on Tuesday, and not coming
out until Wednesday, did not strike little
Simeon as being good journalism, but, of
course, he could not think of suggesting
such a thing to Air. Boggs. One night
an idea struck little Simeon, after he had
gone to bed. It was such a bold one
that it scared him. Why not change the
date of the paper to Wednesday? That
was the idea. But to carry it into exer
cution was what i eauired the nerve. It
would never do to let Air. Boggs know
of it. Little Simeon rolled and tossed
for hours on his couch, so burdened was
he with his idea. Finally ho crept out
of bed, dressed himself, stole from the
house, and went by a round about way,
through dark back streets, to the office
of the Beacon Light, He unlocked the
door, and, with trembling limbs, tip-toed
into the office. It was his own office,
but ho felt like a thief. The forms for
the paper were made up and on the stone
ready to go to press the next day, which
was Wednesday. Little Simeon struck a
match, and crept up to the stone.
“Law!” said he, “Air. Boggs knew this
he’d be mad enough to kill me! I’ve a
notion not to do it, now.”
But ho did. He lifted out the word
“Tuesday” and the date, and placed
“Wednesday” and the corresponding
date in their place. Then he left the
office ns stealthily as he had entered, and
flew back home as if the terrible Air.
Boggs was in close pursuit. Little Sim¬
eon slept not a wink that night, and half
dressed himself twice with the intention
of going back to the office and undoing
tho bold work he had done. The next
morning he had no courage to go to the
'office, and sent word to Air. Boggs that
ihe was ill. The paper come out all right,
dated Wednesday. ^ On Thursday little
'Simeon went to the office with fear and
trembling. He expected a blast from
•Mr. Boggs, and admitted himself that he
deserved it. But he nearly fainted when
Mr. Boggs greeted him with a pleasant
smile, and said:
“Ah! Good morning, Simmy!”
Little Simeon was filled with remorse.
“Mr. Boggs hasn’t found me out yet,”
Isaldhe. It’ll come by and by.”
1 But it didn’t, Nothing was said by
I any one about the change in the Beacon
SPRING PLACE. GEORGIA, THURSDAY APRIL 29, 18SG.
Light's publication day. Little Simeon
began to feel better and look upon his
little moonlight coup as a master stroke
of genius. The next week the Beacon
Light’s now publication day came round,
but no Beacon Light appeared. Air.
Boggs had resented the unheard of
effrontery of little Simeon Mix in inter¬
fering with the management of the paper.
He brought the Beacon Light out on
Thursday, and on Thursday it came out
thereafter, dated Wednesday
Mr. Bogg’s disapproval of his employ¬
er’s ideas in journalism was so universal
that little Simeon was at last forced to
use subterfuge and strategem to make
his personality felt in the conduct of the
Beacon Light. This was suggested to
him, however, by Billy Puterbaugh, the
devil of the (^establishment. Billy was
little Simeon’s confidant. One night lit¬
tle Simeon and Billy werei alone in the
office.
“Here’s an editorial,” said'littlc Sim¬
eon, “that I’d like to have set double
leaded in long primer, but Air. Boggs
won’t let me, it isn’t likely.”
“Afark it solid nonpareil,” said Billy,
without looking up from the exchange
he was reading.
“W-h-a-tl” said little Simeon with a
start.
“Alark it solid nonpareil,” said Billy,
“and old Boggs ’ll set it double-leaded in
primer, an’ I’ll bet on it.”
“But, law! Billy,”\said little Simeon,
aghast at the thought. ^ “S’pose he finds
us out?”
Billy shrugged his shoulders and said
it was none of his circus, but said that
he’ed bet his life that if he wanted anything
double-leaded in a. paper of his, he’d
have it double-leaded or bust his biler.
’ Little Simeon pondered over the mat¬
ter a minute or two the wrote on the copy
“Solid nonpareil,” ran to the hook and
clapped it on, and dashed out of the
office like a shot.
Next day Air. Boggs took tho copy oil
the hook.
“ ‘Solid nonpareil,’ hey?” said he.
AVe’ll solid nonpareil it!”
He scratched at little Simeon’s direc¬
tion’s and wrote over it, “Long primer,
double lead.” Genius triumphed again
Tor the me^st rime- hot l^inTme Mr Borr-s found out
m U S strategy some way way after
a month or so. Little Simeon was satis¬
fied that lie was discovered by seeing in
the Beacon Light one week ■ after his
stirring appeal to the people to support
Slocum for Patlimaster set in solid non¬
pareil, and a half-column communication
on the subject of Heridity from a Psychol¬
ogical Point of View, which he had tak¬
en the chance of getting in the paper to
oblige a scientific friend, heading the ed¬
itorial column in double-leaded long-prim¬
er Then little Simeon knew that it was
futile to interfere where Air. Boggs ruled,
and lie meekly submitted.
Little Simeon was deeply in love with
the villiage blacksmith’s pretty daughter.
She was as meek and quiet and gentle as
she was pretty, which is saying a great
deal, and she returned little Simeon’s
love. One Christmas the girls of Grass
ville were getting up a little entertain¬
ment for the benefit of the church, and
the blacksmith’s lovely daughter was ap¬
pointed a committee to see that proper
notice of the affair should be given iu the
Beacon Light. She told little Simeon
that very night that there must be a
good notice in the paper that week, for
Friday was Christmas. Little Simeon
said to his sweetheart that she would
have to see Air. Boggs about the matter,
as he had charge of all such things on
the Beacon Light. The blacksmith’s
pretty daughter went to the newspaper
office the next day. Little Simeon was
out. She walked meekly and quietly up
to Air. Boggs, and, in her gentle way,
told him what she wanted, and asked
him if he would give them a good notice.
“Alaybe you don’t know me, Air.
Boggs?” she said. “I’m Miss Fry, the
blacksmith’s daughter. ”
“Oh! you are, eh?” said Air. Boggs,
turning about and talking very loud.
“Well, there’s never been any black
smithing done around this office, and
there never will be as long as I’m here.
You can’t get any notice in this paper!”
Weill It was all that Aliss Fry could
do to keep back her tears, and she hur¬
ried from the office half-scared to death.
On her way home she met little Simeon.
Then she could contain herself no longer,
and began to boo-boo in earnest. As
soon as she was able she told him how
rudely she had been treated by Air.
Boggs, and what he had said to her.
Little Simeon said nothing, but after
leaving the blacksmith’s daughter at her
house, he walked very rapidly back to
the Beacon Light office. People that Ife
met turned and looked after him.
“What’s up with little Simeon they
said. “Ain’t crazy is he?”
When little Simeon reached the office,
he went up stairs three steps at a time,
He dashed through the door, and shut it
after him with a bang. He never stop- j
ped until he reached Mr. Boggs. Air.
Boggs was a six-footer. !
“She can’t get any notice in this paper,
eh?” yelled little Simeon, and he sprang
in the air and hit Mr. Boggs a thump
undf^ heap the the ear floor. that Little dropped him pounced in a
on Simeon
on him. He hnmmered, and clawed, and
kicked. He scattered the astounded Air.
Boggs about the floor like a bag of chaff.
Billy Puterbaugh climbed clear up on his
case, and looked down on the frantic little
Simeon with bulging eyes, as he thrashed
the hitherto invincible Air. Boggs around.
Galleys were pied, frames upset, and gen¬
eral chaos was apparently approaching.
Air. Boggs seemed utterly helpless in the
hands of the iniuriated little Simeon, and
after batting him about like an old tin
kettle, until Billy Puterbaugh thought
lie must surely bo dead, little Simeon
dragged him to the head of the stairs and
tumbled him from top to bottom.
“Alnybe there’s never been nny black
smithing done around this establish¬
ment,” exclaimed little Simeon, ns he
camo back and looked about him, “but
if he don’t think there’s been a little
done just now, then he’s tougher than 1
think he is!”
Then little Simeon sat down in Ills
sanctum. “I ’spose he’ll come back and
kill me, by and bye,” said he, but I don’t
care a cuss.”
But Air. Boggs didn’t come back. Tire
next day little Simeon sat in his office,
uneasy in his mind. The door slowly
opened, and a head done up in bandages
and plasters was thrust through the
opening.. Then an altogether broken up
individual limped in after the head. It
was Mr. Boggs. Little Simeon thought
the inevitable had come, and he sprang
to his feet to sell his life as dearly as pos¬
sible. But Air. Boggs threw up his
hands and said imploringly:
“Don’t strike me, Air. Alix!” |
“Mr. Alix!” exclaimed little Simeon.
“The poor fellow is crazy!”
Then Air. Boggs went on to say that
ho wanted to go to work; that he couldn’t
be happy,outside the Beacon Light office.
“Well, ( Boggsy,” said little Simeon, not
without aistart, ‘ ‘I guess wc can give you
asit - Come around after you get those
plasters off. * IhereG loT6T
a
nronnd this . offico> and ru>pHt ^ >u to sct .
ting it up. And say, .Tosh, ?r
a
a roller to wash, and Billy’s busy. You
might tackle that.”
“All right, Air. Alix.” said the con¬
quered Joshua Boggs, and he went
in and washed the roller!
Little Simeon Mix ran the Beacon
Light after that. The publication day
was changed back to Tuesday, and the
paper went to press regularly every Alon¬
day night. Air. Boggs was always Josh
or Boggsy to little Simeon, and little
Simeon was always Mr. Alix to the de¬
throned dictator. Little Simeon married
the blacksmith’s pretty daughter, and
Mr. Boggs invested three weeks’ salary
in a wedding present for the bride.— Ed.
Mott in the Journalist.
An Anecdote of Webster.
Webster liked a good story even if he
was the hero of it. He delighted to re¬
late that while going in a stage from Con¬
cord, N. H., to his home on a certain oc¬
casion he had for a-travelling companion
a very old man. The old gentleman
lived at Salisbury, and as Captain Web¬
ster—Daniel’s father—had been quite
popular thereabouts Daniel asked if he
had ever known him. “Indeed I did,”
said the antiquarian, “and the Captain
was a good and brave man, and grandly
did he fight at Bennington with General
Stark,” continued the old gentleman.
“Did he leave any children?” asked
the great statesman.
“Oh, yes; there was Ezekiel and, I
think, Daniel,” was the simple reply.
“What has become of them?” Daniel
inquired.
“Whv, Ezekiel—and he was a power¬
ful man, sir,—I’ve heard him plead in
court many a time—fell dead whilo
speechifying at Concord. ”
“Well,” persisted Webster, “what be¬
came of Daniel?”
“Daniel—Daniel,” repeated the old
man, slowly—“why, Daniel, I believe, is
a lawyer about Boston somewhere.” It
is perhaps unnecessary to say that Daniel
failed to reveal his identity.— Cleveland
Leader.
A Superfluous Female.
The surplusage of females in the pop¬
ulation of Alassachusetts is constantly the
cause for annoyance. It was at a juven¬
ile party the other day that a mothei
noticed her five-year-old daughter had)
not joined the march to the refreshment
room.
“Why did you not go in with the
other children, my dear?”
“Because I could not find nny littlq
boy to hold on to,” was the wail of tho
ingenious unfortunate .—Loxoell Citftm.
AN’ N ENGINEER’S STORY
His Strange Passenger on a
* Southern Railroad.
As Incident of the War in Which a Prom¬
inent Confederate Figured
■Over in Jersey City one day last week,
soys “Halston” in the New York Times,
two or three locomotive engineers sat
talking over strange experiences, and
tlijs was the story that one of them told:
‘I "’as a young man working on a South¬
ern railroad as a fireman when the war
broke out. Before the war was over I
got an engine of my own; but before I
was regularly promoted the engineer of
sfiy train fell sick all of a sudden and I
was ordered to take the engine out my¬
self. I shipped a brakeman to do my fir¬
ing, nud started away at 6 o’clock in the
morning, pulling one passenger and
half a dozen freight cars. There wasn’t
any fighting along my line, but there was
a deal of bad feeling everywhere, and
lots of lawless deeds were being commit¬
ted. The track on this road had been
t6rn up in two places only a week before,
and there was a good bit of talk about
trainwreckers and the like. At about 8
d*clock at a way station I got a telegram
from headquarters to drop all my cars
and hurry right on to the end of the line
with only my locomotive and tender. It
Tgfas a queer order, but I knew that it
asofficial and I made ready to obey or
aars, when a little man with a brown
slouch hat, who did not look as if he
weighed over a hundred pounds, climbed
up into the cab and said to me that he
wished I would let him ride in there
-frith me, he was so anxious to go forward
as far as he could. I told him that my
orders were to let nobody ride, and ex.
plained that I didn’t think I could let
him go. ‘Don’t you expect mef he
asked. I told him I didn’t. ‘It will be
all right,’he insisted, but when I asked
him what was his name and what was
his business lie couldn’t be induced to
*?' hkl mo al * ‘ Then wlthout U ’ s al y°«-’ > U P’’ said Thcn 1 1 h<! T11 8°
n S ° n S SU R
that, he was willing to p;iy me
J*" 1 0l l ^ ttln g 111111 remain aboard, but 1
flKr ‘ * .ary- chapccs, and .1 told
hmr so. I was only waiting till my fire
than attended lo some business that he
had gone down the track about, and then
I was going to shoot ahead and leave
everybody behind. You ought to have
seen the sparks in that little man’s eye.
‘You needn’t wait for your helper,’ he
said in that kind o’ quiet tone that had a
whole battlefield in its very quietness.
‘You needn’t wait for your fireman. I’ll
do his work. Go ahead !” I looked at him,
wondering whether or not he was crazy,
when he calmly took out a shiny pistol and
tapped gently on one of the brass rods of
the cal) seat, and he repeated once more,
‘Go ahead!’ I was knocked clean out.
What could the stranger mean? That
sparkle in his eye grew brighter and
and brighter, and seemed fairly to dance
like a diamond under the sun. ‘Do you
understand?’ he inquired in the quiet
tone that pierced me like a bullet. ‘Go
ahead, Isay.’ I w r ent ahead. On, on.
and on we dashed, through the fields
and forests and by the villages, stopping
nowhere, my passenger—I felt that he
was a madman—ke ping a close watch
on me all the while. I was scared. That
pistol was still in his hand, and like the
little hand of a watch its rat-a-tat-tat on
the brass rod kept counting off the scc
onds and the minutes till I grew almost
crazy myself. I was rattled. A sort of
film kept coming before my eyes. He said
not one word, but I felt that his search¬
ing gaze was on me all the while. And
finally I could stand it no more. There
was a rush of blood to my head, I stag¬
gered and fell—with the town I was
bound for just iu sight. What I remcm
ber next was a buzz of voices over me as
I lay in a doctor’s office. Aside from a
nervous shock I had suffered nothing.
Aly engine had brought me into town all
right, and had come to a halt at the sta¬
tion as gently and nimably as any old
family horse. The man who had rode
down with me had known enough to
govern her, but he had waited at the
depot after arriving only long enough to
tell a bystander that I was in need of
help in on the engine’s floor. A week
after I learned the reason for the strange
order that had been given me to hurry on
with my locomotive and no cars, and I
learned too the name and the mission of
my passenger. A telegraph operator had
blundered. Aly dispatch should have
read: ‘Take on little man with brown
slouch hat; drop all cars and rush for¬
ward with no stops.’ The operator had
carelessly left off the first phrase about
‘the little man with brown slouch hat,’
and given me only the last part of the
order. The man? He was Alexander
H. Stephens, and he had important war
information—information that he had
been willing to trust to nobody else. He
Vol. VI. New Series. No. 12.
apologized to me afterward for his strange
actions, but he said he felt that only in
such a way could he ever manage to make
me go on, for he didn’t know what the
real text of my orders was and he was
afraid to ask for fear that he might find
me either unfriendly or untrustworthy.
Those were days when everybody was
suspected, you know.”
IIow Some Artists Live.
One can live cheaply or the reverse in
New York, as Leander Rich- rdson shows.
He relates the fact that ninny unmarried
artists have rooms opening out of their
studios making arrangements for the
sweeping, washing and all that sort oi
thing with the janitors of the buildings
in which their quarters are situated. The
milkman comes in the morning and leaves
his little bottle of .he best milk, the bak¬
er comes around with the muffins and the
janitor’s boy runs out to get the other
supplies for the day. When the man in
the house is ready for his breakfast, he
simply goes and cooks it, and there isn’t
anybody to find fault with for making
the coffee too strong or doing the steak
too much. One of the profession who
makes a large income was found im¬
mersed in the duties of the kitchen, and
apparently enjoying himself. He was
covered over with a largo white apron,
and his sleeves were rolled up above his
elbows displaying a pair of brawny and
well-shaped arms, while in his mouth
was the regulation artist’s black pipe.
At that particular instant he was finish¬
ing up the luncheon, which a few min¬
utes later the party sat down to demolish.
It wus a very nice affair, consisting of
consomme in cups, broiled oysters, a ten¬
der fillet of beef, black coffee, cheese and
hard crackers. At Delmonico’s it would
have cost $2 or $3. In the artist’s little
suite of rooms the total outlay was less
than fifty cents, and the host, who has a
genuine liking for the preparation of eat¬
ables, enjoyed the pleasure of doing the
cooking beside. Richardson says furth¬
er:
I was surprished to hear qiy artistic
friend tell the other day how many peo¬
ple of high and low degree live in this
way in New York. He declared that
three out of five of the painters car¬
ried on thi s existence in a more or less
.
modified form, some of them keeping a
servant to run errands and do the menial
part of the housekeeping, while many
others did it all themselves. Some of
have them elaborately ’gotten up flats in
which they live in great style, but the bulk
of them carry on their existence in sets of
rooms opening out of their studios.
That, however, is not a fair example of
the bohemian sort of thing at its best in
New York. Ebcn Plympton, the actor,
used to run a pleasant little flat down in
Twenty-ninth street, where he. delighted
in inviting his friends and treating them
to luncheons, dinners or suppers of his
own preparation. I never could bring
myself to think Eben a good actor, but
they do say he is a first-class cook, and
perhaps that is the direction in which
hi ■■ genius lies. At any rate, his
rooms were the resort of lots of people
who know what good eating is, and who
always appeared to be very glad, indeed,
to have an invitation to a feast made
ready by their host himself. Hillary
Bell, a well-known painter who diversi¬
fies his professional career % writing a
portion of the time for newspapers and
magazines, also lives by himself, doing
all his own cooking and oftentimes enter¬
taining his friends. He was telling me
the other day how in the early days of
his career, when he used ‘to be sometimes
hard up for money, he found he could
live in really excellent style upon this
system at a total outlay of about $3 a
week—this amount, of course, covering
only the cost of the raw materials and
not including rent. So it will l c seen
that a man who enjoys puttering around
at cooking and all that kind of thing
may combine thorough pleasure with
complete economy.
Toombs’ Escape.
On the day after the last Confederate
council, which was held in Washington,
Ga., that section of the country was over¬
run by Federal troops in pursuit of the
fugitives. A federal cavalry officer dis¬
mounted at the door of General Toombs’
mansion, and was met upon the doorstep
by the general himself, whom he didn’t
happen to know personally.
“Is General Toombs at home?” inquired
the stranger.
“He is 1 Take a seat and I will and
. go
tell him.”
Alaking his escape thus out of the
room, General Toombs told - his wife to go
in and entertain the officer, and to gain
him as much time as possible for escape.
Mounting a horse, which was kept con¬
stantly saddled for the purpose, he rode ,
away, and after atrip marvelous for itf
incidents both on land and on sea, he
gained the shores of England__ Atlanta
Constitution.
The Wonderfnl Weareri
There’s a wonderful weaver
High up in the air.
And he weaves a white matitlo
For cold earth to wear.
With the wind for his shuttle,
The cloud for his loom,
IIow lie weaves, how he weaves,
Iu the light, in the gloomt
Oh! with the finest of laces
He decks hush and tree;
On the hare, flinty meadows
A cover lays be.
Then a quaint cap be places
On pillar and post ;
And he changes the pump
To a grim, silent ghost!
But this wondorful weaver
Grows weary at last;
And the shuttle lies idle
That once flow so fast.
Then the sun peeps abroad
On the work that is done;
And he smiles: “I’llunravel
It all. just for fun!”
HUMOROUS.
The spring-time of life—When you
discover a bent pin under you.
Can a man be called a temperance man
of long standing who wears tight shoes?
“Struck down,” as tho barber said
when he shaved the first crop of fuzz
fnom a youth’s chin. i
A soft answer turns away no wrath
from a girl when she is serious on the
popping question and means business.
The wealth of our language is shown
by tho fact that “hang it up” and
“chalk it down” mean precisely the same
thing.
Playwright-Do you think my new
tragedy will survive a first performance?
Critic—Your tragedy—may be; the spec¬
tators—hardly.
It is said that a person who eats onions
will keep a secret. But such a person
cannot keep secret the fact that he has
been eating onions.
Uncle George—“And so you go to
school now, Johnny? What part 'of the
exercises do you like best?” Johnny—
“The exercises wo get at recess.”
“Yes, gentlemen,” said the barber,
“we tiro standing on frccvsoil.” “No,
you're not,” said the shoemaker, “you
arc standing in shoes not paid for.”
There is-iiot, stx-niueh difference be¬
tween r» restaurant and a cattle barn as
one would at first suppose. The former
has many tables, and the latter has its
stables, too.
Farmers are pouring into Western
Texas so fast that ranchmen have just
time enough to move their cattle out and
prevent their tails being chopped off by
the advancing hoc.
A school board recently asked the fol¬
lowing question of a little girl; “What
is the plural of man?" “Men.” “Very
well; and what is the plural of child?”
“Twins,” immediately replied the little
girl.
During a recent cyclone in the West
“a church was lifted to a height of thirty
feet.” The members of the congrega¬
tion were deeply chagrined when they
miv their edifice become a high church
so suddenly.
“Oh, mamma, you’d be surprised to
know how dumb Bessie Barton isl She
took me into what she said was the
apiary. What do you think I saw
there?” “I don’t know, dear.” “Why
nothing but a lot of beehives. There
were no apes there; not even a monkey.”
Grcck Burial Cnsloms.
A correspondent at Athens gives an ac¬
count of many curious burial customs pe¬
culiar to Greece which lately came under
liis notice. A piece of linen as wide ns
the body, and twice as long, was doubled,
and a hole large enough for the head cut
out of it. In this the body was wrapped
and then dressed in new clothes, and
more especially new shoes. Beneath tho
liead was placed a pillow full of lemon
leaves. In tho mouth was put a bunch
ol violets and around the temples a
chaplet flowers. These are used only for
for the unmarried, and must be white.
Both head and feet were tied with bands
made for the purpose, which were un¬
loosed at the edge of the grave when the
coffin was about to be closed. A small
coin (a relic of the fee to the ferryman)
was placed in the palm of the hand. At
Athens a sou is dropped into the coffin.
The greatest attention is given to this
point. In removing the body the feet al¬
ways go first. A priest came on three
successive days to sprinkle tho room,
fumigate it and repeat certain prayers, as
for that period after death it was sup¬
posed to be haunted. After burial
women are hired to keep a light burning
over the grave until the body is supposed
to be decomposed. To assist this, the
Bottom of modern Greek coffins is of lat
tice work. Every Saturday the poor of
Athens place the ^ of their
on graves
friends eatables of the sort they used to
like.— Sunbeams.
