North Georgia times. (Spring Place, Ga.) 1879-1891, May 27, 1886, Image 1

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North Georgia times., May 27, 1886, Image 1

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Newspaper Page TextNORTH GEORGIA $ Wm. 0. MARTIN, Editor. The Difference. ’TisfeftsytO When bo brave the World is on Our side; iV Hen nothing is to fear) tearless to hide. Tis easy to hope, When all goes well; When the sky is clear, Fine weather to foretell. Bntto hope when all’s despaired, And be brave when we are scared,— That’s another thing, my dear! And will do to telL —Anthony Morthcad in the Century. AN EASTER RIFT. "No,” said Uncle Zcbcdee, “no; we told ’em just exactly how ’twould be, They wouldn’t believe its, Now let ’em take the etlnseqtlcnces. ” “Wc warned ’em beforehand,” said Aunt Zeruiah. “They couldn’t expeot nothin’ fairer than that.” Uncle Zeb and Aunt Ruey sat looking at oach other, one on either side of the big stone fireplace, like thc old man and woman we sometimes see tete-a-tete in a toy-shop. They were ancient and weazen and wrinkled—so thin that it would seem as if an extra blast from the brass-nozzled bellows must assuredly blow them away, while their spectacles shone like stray stars from some unheard-of constellation, and the veins stood out like whip-cord from their lean old hands. Uncle Zeb Waterson and Aunt Ruey, his sister, were old batchelor and old maid. All their lives long they had been saving and scrimping and pinching, as if economy were the mainspring of their existence. They never saw a red apple with any appreciation of its artistic beauty; they thought of it only as being worth so much a barrel; the corn silked and tasseled out only as so much “prime Indian-mcalthe pink-and-whitc clover head^ represented only pasturage value, and thc star-eyed daisies were nothing more than “pesky weeds, that no critter on airth would cat.” , And when, eight years ago, their half sister Nolly had run away—actually run away from four dollars a month and lie board—to marry a black-eycd sailor lad . die, Uncle skinqyliai^s Zeb and Aunt Ruey had wash¬ ed their of l^r altogether. but a fickle reed tot Hal and Nelly Ar bush to lean on. The young siulor was lost on the first voyage out after his mar¬ riage, and Nelly was left to support her child as best she might. It was an uneven battle between life’s troubles and thc poor young widow, and when Nelly died, the little girl was sent home to Spriggerdale, with a pitiful let¬ ter from the young mother whose sun had set so early. But Uncle Zeb and Aunt Rucy abso¬ lutely declined to receive Nell. “She ain’t nothin’ to us,” said Uncle Zeb. “Let her go to Hal Arbush’s relations 1” said Aunt Ruey. “Eh! he hadn’t no re¬ lations? Well, I ain’t to blame for that, as I know of.” “You wouldn’t let this child go on thc town,” said Mr. Jones, the express-agent, to whose care little Nell had been con¬ signed as if she were a brown-paper pack¬ age. would!” “Yes, I said Uncle Zeb. “Why not?” said Aunt Rucy, bluntly. So Nell was taken, with her little bandbox full of clothes, to the town house. The matron looked puzzled—she had no charges so young as Nell—but she kissed the child, and gave her a piece of ginger-bread and some patchwork, and told her to be a good girl. Nell played about until she was tired, and then came to the matron with wist¬ ful, upturned gaze. “When am I going home?” said sho, “This is home,” said the matron. Nell’s lip quivered; her blue eyes swam in tears. “I don’t like it!” said she. “I don’t want to live here! Mamma said I was to go home at Easter!” “What docs the child mean?” said thc bewildered matron. “Don’t you know?” said Nell. “First comes Christmas—then Easter? And mamma said I was to go home at Easter. ” “We don’t have Easters here—except now and again a few colored eggs,” said the good matron. “This is home, my dear; so put all of that nonsense out of your head.” But Nell cried, and refused to be com¬ forted. “Can I go and play?" said she, after a little while, with the tears yet on her lashes. “Yes—in the back yard, as much as you please,” said the kindly matron. “I don’t like thc back yard,” said fas¬ tidious Nell, “It’s all full of brick-bats and tomato.eans, and broken bottles that won’t hold anything. I want to go in thc woods.” “Well, don't go far, then,” said ttw SPRING PLACE. GEORGIA, THURSDAY MAY 27, 188C. matron, who vras busy mixing lime for the spring white-washing, and perhaps Was a little relieved to be rid of Nell's {ierpetual questionings; So aWay went little Nellj her white cambric stiubonnet fluttering iil the early April wind, down into the dolls, where the first pallid violets were thrusting their purple heads up through Jayers of moist, dead leaves, and a tender fringe of green followed the course of the rivu let, the happiest little lass that the sun ever shone on. “I wish I could stay here always, and live in a cave, and.eat berries' ancfcsassa fras-buds, and drink water from the brook 1” thought Nell. “I don’t want to go back to the town-house, where Undo Tim makes faces at me, and. old Mrs. Hatch’s hafid shakes so that she spills her tea all over the table.” But the afternoon wore or)—Saturday afternoon, always the busiest of the week —and Mrs. Gaff, the matron, began to be uneasy about the youngest inhabitant of the town-house. “She can’t be drowhed, for the brook isn’t deep enough,” said Mrs. Gaff. “But I s’pose a strange child .could, be lost in them woods. I'm a’most sorry now I let horgo. Ef she ain’t back by dark, I’ll send Foolish Frank after her. I guess he’s got sense enough to bring her home if he finds her.” Uncle Zeb and Aunt Itucy Watcrson were sitting at their supper—a pot of weak tea, some broad and butter, and a dish of stewed peaches—when tho door opened softly, and in came a little girl of fivo years old, with a sunboonet flung back from her brown curls, and her apron full of pale-pink arbutus, slender-stcmm ed wild-flowers and blue violets. Aunt Ruey started back. “It’s Nelly!” said she, startled at the wonderful resemblance to the fair face that was now coffined and buried. “Lord save us!” gasped Uncle Zeb, who, like most illiterate men, was not without a spice of tho superstitious in Ids nature. “Don’t go a-nigh her, Ruey. Maybe she ain't realP “Yes, I’m Nelly,” said the child, emp tying her flowers into thc old lady’s lap. “I’ve brought you some Easter flowers.” And she looked solemnly around her at the fire in the deep ehimncy.place, the ft wpprr window, the doming reef rose-tree the and the re flections of sunset on the wall “La’ sakes!” said Aunt Rucy, looking helplessly first at the flowers aud then at the child, “where did you come from?” “From tho town-house,” said Nell. “But to-morrow is Easter Day. I count¬ ed it up from the calendar that hangs under tho clock-shelf in Mrs. Gaff’s room. Stamina said I was to come home on Easter. ” Uncle Zeb put out his coarse, wrinkled hand and touched Nell’s hair as softly as if she had been a piece of Dresden china, in danger of cracking. “She’s a pretty little croetur, ain’t she?” said he. “Come here, child. Will you give me a kiss?” “Yes,” answered Nell, putting up her coral lips to thc old man’s withered face, and climbing unceremoniously upon his lap. “Now give me some bread and milk.” “Well, I declare, Zeb!” cried his sister. “Ef you don’t look queer with a little child a-settin’ on your knee!” Uncle Zeb wriggled himself this way and that. “I dunno ’zactly how it looks,” said he, “but I tell you it feels mighty slick. Ain’t she got our Nelly’s eyes right over ag’in? Get her some bread and milk, Ruey. Easter! Is it really Eastei; to¬ morrow? You and me, Ruey, we ain’t been to church in a powerful long time. Let’s try how it seems to-morrow. Ye s’pose we could make thc little gal up a bed on tho old trundle in the west room?” “Y r ou ain’t going to keep her?” said Aunt Ruey, with eager, questioning eyes full of a certain joy. Uncle Zeb stroked the soft, brown curls. “Well, I dunno,” said ho. “It seems ’most a pity to send her back there, doesn’t it?” Aunt Ruey reflected. “I’ve ’most a mind to try how I like her,” said she. “I alius was partial to cats, anil it does seem as if a well-behav¬ ed child needn’t be much more trouble about thc house than a cat.” And when she had brought in a blue edged bowl full of milk and a goodly slice of bread, she actually gathered up the fast-wilting flowers and put them in a cracked pitcher on thc mantle. “Lai” said she, as she turned around, “if the poor child hasn’t fell dead asleep, with her head agin your waistcoat, Zebe dee.” “I guess you’d better undress her and put her to bed,” said Uncle Zeb, gently laying down the limp little figure, with its cheeks flushed with slumber. “We’ll go right up and put the j’ints of the old together, you and me,” Aunt Ruey was a little awkward with thc buttons and strings. It was a long time since her stiff, oldhands had.wrought such work as this', but Nell never woke lip; “She 4gejB look drehdTiii pretty therOi fast asleep,” said she; “I—1 guess we'll keep her, Zobedce.” “I guess we will,” said the old man. “Folks’ll call us dreadful silly.” . “Let’em,” said Uncle Zebcdcc. When Foolish Frank, from the town house, cyme to know “ef they hadn’t nowhar seen a little girl,” Uncle Zebodee informed him that they had decided to keep little Nell Arbnsh. “Eh?” said Foolish Frank. “For good and all?” “Yes,” said Unde Zebcder, “for good .and all. Go ami tell Mrs. Gaff so.” Foolish Frank went back, much wond criug. But little Nell woke up, the next mom ing, with glittering eyes and rose-red lips apart, as in a smile. “It’s Easter Day!” said she. “I dream ed mamma oamc to me and put her hand on my shoulder, and said we had both got home.” „ Uncle Zeb and Aunt Rucy looked at each other with tearful.eyes. And that day—-the first in half a score of years— they went to church, through tho bud ding woods, with Null skipping on be fore; / Aiul when the minister saw them com© could not but think of the blessed Scriptural words: “And a little child shall lead thcml ’— Helen Forrest Orates, Lif ° in " Liberia ™ * A correspondent at BrewersvillcLtbe na, writing to the Gate City (Mo.) Press, say**. This place (BrowemviUe) » fifteen ^ fmm Monrovia It is fifteen years ° UL Jt 18 ^largest, settlement in Libe na outside of Monrovia, All the people who have emi S mted ° ut llerc iathe ten or fifteen years have settled m this The people in the .settlement are 1 ’ and 1 nl to hel P the other in abusinc88 scn f c of V J e "’ Thcr e aro n <> mules, and no oxen in . the whole settlement They have to do all g andth<ya 0 /"™ ^ work 1 have with bson the hoc, out hore the rake, now &****»■ clothes to wear. Therersn’t any doctor poor to support one. The inhabitants number 5oG. Calico is 2o cents per yard A common laborer, when lie can get work to do, receives 25 cents per day. Pickled pork is 35 cents per pound, shoulder meat 25 cents per pound. All the flour and meat used here is imported from England and America. Corn meal is 10 cents per quart. Common flour is $15 per barrel. This is the greatest place for sores I ever saw. There is hero an insect; hs name is jiger; it is very dangerous. I have seen grown people, and children, too, with their toes eaten off. §hoes are more needed here than in America. It is necessary to wear shoes all the time sous to protect your feet from these insects. Tho people aro un able ,, to . keep . shoes . on their children all .. the time, and a good many of them have to wear sore feet all the year round. Mj boy’s feet have been so sore hc could hardly walk. The only way the settlers have to mako any money here is by raising and selling coffee. It will take a new-comer like my¬ self from live to six years to get a coffee farm in trim for selling coffee. The pub lie schools are in a poor condition. There is a class of people hero who do not want the trim condition of things written back home. They say if the people want to know how times are over here, let them come and sec for themselves. Bicycling on a Frozen Canal. “I took a spin up a canal in Pennsyl¬ vania once,” said a wheelman. “Thc surface was smooth,-but had been scored a little by sharp skates and the particles of ice were blowing up and down the canal. I ran up in the face of thc wind, and got a;ong famously for half a mile. Then my wheel began to slip and I made no headway. Noticing that the rubber tire was encrusted with the fine particles of ice, I started to turn about and run down before the wind. The moment I swerved from a straight line the machine went from under me and I rode down the tow-path with a braised thigh ancl a broken crank .”—New Fork Tribune. Conscientious. “Eugcna, didn’t I tell you an hour ago to send that young man of yours home?” “Yes, papa, dear.” “But he went out just now—I heard him—” “Yes, papa, dear; but hc went the first time, and then he found he’d taken your umbrella, by mistake, and so ho came to bring it back. Dear George is so conscientious, ”^-Putk, | REV. SAM JO.\ ES. A Pen Portrait of the Noted iuthern Revivalist. ^ Sketdh of fiis Oarear anl a FflW .^L^mples Jb' "" of His 7 Saying.i h,lm ' ,bmi s ' has achieved 0 fa' ,ls ,ln ‘ lie was , . ; l6 ^JiarL 9 S<> 1 M,s °" !,fter ( -- ount .', h,s Alabama, l«s Oct. > ’ re . home, mov li ~ s ’dure C.irtcrsvilk*, _ -S’’ tt ‘ 0,Ms l!> <,nuno,ll '.v religious pa fc f r sicm on tag j. law He aftcr adopted receiving his father’s an excellent pro¬ education. An excess of animal spirits <?«***-% sipnted. lie future sunk lower preacher and to lower. become When dis hc no "M pro.iches against Intoxicants, gambling, and other dissipations he ^ tl0 " s w f wt 10 ’ s talking about, $ , ’™ 1, oncs <•>» l»is <lying b«l f made a hri appeal to the heller manhood of his sop. I he finer nature of the man '' as *° d ’ and he refonned. Itc real * zcd horror* of the pit from which he had escaped, and therefore all the more hesonj®; others to do right, lie was in toleran^ inconsistencies of the of vices Chrixtains. of society His and plain the speaking made him many enemies, yet his evident sincerity gained him high rc- -In October, 1872, Air. Jones joined tho North Georgia Conference of the Met 11 odist Episcopal Church South, llere mained -from two to three years on sever al circuits. Gradually it dawned on him 8nd b ' 3 friends that he could do the most effective work as an evangelist, lii 1880 Mr. Jones was appointed agent of the orphans’ homo of his conference. lie soon placed it in a prosperous condition. Thera is a reminder here of over a ccutu r y ago, when George Whiteficld went up and down the land preaching and raising funds for his orphan home in G-orgia. Mr. - Jones then extended ’ iic’d. After many successful meetings m vari ous houtheru Stales, hc attracte. .the at tention of the ^v. T. DoWitt 1 .Image, who had him conduct a revival at tho Brooklyn TatiornacW. A&^cs After more work ,he South, spent a month in St. Lop recently. He is engaged for ^r.wflones is tall and in rather good-look- ,, t 'He is deTte<SfifSri»ds#««*r.nM sometimes indulges in slang to drive home a truth, he is a master of the speech 0 f the common pcoplo. He is witty, sar whoever cast i c humorous, wished pathetic, elegant, he to be. To crown all he is forever in earnest, always persua sive, and never loses the object of his discourses to save souls. Mr. Jones has mot with great success. His meetings produce intense interest, He is everywhere indorsed by leading or tliodox ministers. In the South he has been provided with an immense tent, holding thousands. At Nashville and other cities it was jammed every day for weeks. About 1872 Mr. Jones was married to Miss Laura MeElwain, ’ of Eminence, ’ Ky. J Many of Mr. Jones’ sayings are of the k ; ll( i that stick in the memory, and not a fcw arc clear-cut gems of counsel. Hc may be reckless of speech, but he in some way manages to make a good many ceu ter shots. Here are some of Sam’s say i n gs: “There is just as much religion in laughing as in crying.” “I have never heard of a man getting up in meeting anywhere and confessing that lie was selfish or avaricious.” “An obedience that dares to go, that dares to suffer, and dares to do. That is what we want.” “Red liquor and Christianity won’t stay in the same hide at the same time.” “I like sonic folks that have got some laugh in them. There is nothing to be done with a dead crowd.” “One preacher told me he got down on his knees one evening and prayed to heaven, to God Almighty, to straighten out Brother Jones ancl change him in a few things, and that he would be a good preacher if that could bo done, He prayed until about sundown, and got off his knees, and the Lord seemed to say to him: ‘Well, I heard you praying for Jones, and if I was to take all those things away from him be would be no more account than you are.’ He said it liked to scare him to death, and he never prayed on that line since.”— St. Louis Qlohc-Demoerat. No, Ethel; when you hear of a young girl having made a good “match” it doesn’t signify that she has got somthing that will get up every morning and light the fire. The young man who imprinted a re¬ spectful kiss on the fair forehead of his best girl told his friend next day that hc Jiqd been having a hangup time, Vol. VI. New Series. NO. 1C>. Keinrakenod Memory. Two years iig'd a young man living in ] a Vermont village, Itering finished his academical education, Nvas tesdy to en¬ ter college. But just before the ti»y >H*' pointed for his examination lio was taken ii). After several weeks of suffering ho slowly recovered his health, but discov ered that his mind had lost the knowl edge' acquired by six years of hard study. , Latiti,- Greek, and mathematics, all were gone, and his mind was a blank in re¬ pents to his preparatory studies, His doctor prescribed that he should rest- life* mind and familiarize himself with a few simple details of light work. He obeyed the advice,^and found in his old habit of doing things carefully the schoolmaster that brought back his old knowledge. Before his illness the young man, in or¬ der to earn a little money, had taken care of the village church, sweeping it out, cleaning the lamps and doing all the work, of a sexton. He now resumed this Work and by the physician’s advice tried to keep bis mind from puzzling itself about its loss of memory. Several weeks went by without bringing any change in bis mental condition. One Sunday evening a stranger entered the church, and, as the sermon was a dull one, gazed carelessly around until his attention was attracted by the lamps on the wall. lie noticed that all tho wicks were so carefully trimmed that there was not an irregular flame to bo seen. lie wondered as to who could bo the careful sexton, and, happening to bo in the place the following Sunday, he again noticed the same uniform trimming of the wicks. Passing tho church the next day and icc ing tlm door open, he walked quietly in and gw the sexton sweeping out the central aisl , Looking closely at tho youn , man , the. stranger said: “Do you j„ all tho work nbout the clmrcli?” » Y( , S ’ sir ' » o Do iu trim thc lamps? 1 „ ,. yc ,' sir „ -vVl.y do you trim them in such ape y J «, „j a tknovf w]mt moan .„ „ wh ' the flames aro alike.” « 0 h ’but ™ ^ they ^m ou-dit to be You U n C ven ’ would , “No,” answered tho stranger, with a .. . t for i. vounaare- Tr , I- nf ly if it W ere superimposed on them.” , < Su ^ im e d , Isll - t that wor d used . t j„ /,,, ‘Certamly , . f If Tf po i ygons, ^ having ■ equal i ^ 1 ofore and a ^ bu lcs granger - could finish us sentence the student threw down Ins br00n b n,shed finally out. of the church, ran across the street and into the l ° US,C ’, Y 1 0 ™ Y astonlsbcd 1,18 ™ other . t(,nc8 f trmmpll: . 1,1 ° Jv l° thcr . f^now tfiattfie square oitne . ^puthenusc of right angle triangle a is * Y ,a ° Y. ^.Y ° 10 si l udll ' s 0 lc otu i wo si es. Y"Y, V'YJ'Y'Y > lC !■ '"'Y Y S S<n ls ' u .°'' ° Y'.f 1115 0 ™J Y' M ( ' by the mention of the superimposed fig urus _ Philadelphia ‘ Call -__ — _ Forty-six Years in One Pulpit. Dr. George Jeffrey, of Glasgow, where he has preached upward of forty-six years, is reported to have explained the secret of his being able to maintain an unbroken ministry in the same place so long to one of thc former members of his church, who is now a merchant in New York. “I read,” says Dr. Jeffrey, •‘every new book that has a bearing upon my special work, and make extracts from it and index them, so at any moment I can find them when wanted. In this way I keep myself from moving in a rut. I work as hard as I used to do at twenty, and I keep so far ahead with my sermons that there are always ten or fifteen un¬ finished ones lying in my drawer ready to receive tho results of my latest readings. I call them ‘sleeping sermons,’ but it is they that sleep, and not the people who hear them .”—Christian Leader. A Jnpnncso Advertisement. A bookseller in Tokio, Japan, desiring to sell his wares, thus advertised them in the newspapers: The advantages of oui cstablishment—1, Prices cheap as a lot tcry. 2, Books elegant as a singing girl. 3, Print clear as crystal. 4, Paper tough as elephant’s hide. 5, Customers treated as politely as by the rival steamship com panics. 6, Articles as plentiful as in a library. 7, Goods despatched as expedi tiously as a cannon ball. 8, Parcels done up with as much care as that bestowed on her husband by a loving wife. 9, All defects, such as dissipation and idleness, will be cured in young people paying us frequent visits, and they will become solid men. 10, The other advantages we offer are too many for language to ev press. Sodom and Gomorrah. Two cities there stood in tho midst of tho plain, And great was their glory and wide was their reign; But sin was the path that their populace trod,, And down on their heads fell the vengeance ef God. A1| litt ] 0 tIloy thought, as they towered in lheir pride, Of the wrath and the ruin so soon to betide; Ah, little they dreamed, as the red morning east Its beams o'er their temples, that day was their last. The heavens were darkened, and forth from them came A tempest of brimstone, n whirlwind of flttino, i And the towers of their might and tho halls ; of their mirth S Were utterly swept from the face of tho earth? ! The prince with his wine and the slave with j his crust, All, all who dwelt In them—those mansions of lust— From revels aroused and from slumbers j awoke, j To crumble to ashes, to melt into smoko r | 0 h, dreadful tho doom of tho cities of sin! j The noon saw no trace that their splendor had ; been! For none but the good shall Inherit tho earth, i The wicked shall weep o’er the day of their birth 1 —Franklin K. Deni on in the Current. HUMOROUS. A delicate pared,—A lovely young lady wrapt up in herself. The population of the Southern States doubles every watermelon seastfu. Why is the figure nine like a peacock? Because it is nothing without its tail. It would scent as if “rifle matches” were the right kind for burglars’ use. “Tin's requires head work,” ns the bar¬ ber said when preparing for a shampoo. Woman is not much of a philosopher;.' but she is proverbially a clothes observer. “My motto is, ‘Live and let live’ ” said the soldier, as he turned his back to the enemy and fled from the battle-field. Anew make of stove is called “The Infant.” It is not supposed to be a self feeder. Dr.Huininondsays:“inanothcrthou sand years wo wiU bo bald.”. Well, in thousand yeap wc won’t care if ^ ' > ' • “TluuAs-doi\ know Uuf^^_______ to-n!gW you know, Harry, I’m so hungry I cou!d ea t anything!" Girls desiring to have small mou hs “ very frequently repeat rapid y, “Fanny Finch ned five flounder fish for Frances Fowler’s father. ” Young wife—John, Mother says she wants to be cremated. Young husband —Tell her if she’ll get on her things I’ll take her down this morning, A man was arrested the other day for stenling a mirror, and pleaded that he ought to be lined, not imprisoned, as he had simply taken a glass too much, Merchant (soniewliat angrily to book ke eper)—I ! want you to mind your own business, , sir. . Now remember that. Bookkeeper (quietly) I wasunder thc im pression that you paid me to mind yours, sir. Governor’s Island. A New York letter to the Troy Times thus describes Governor’s island, where General Hancock died; Governor’s island which contains about fifty acres, was originally called Nuttcn island, from the abundance of nuts grown there. It was purchased by thc federal govern ment soon after the opening of tho pres¬ cut century, and has since then been an important post. It fronts the harbor, and is separated from this city by the East river, which here is a half mile wide. A narrow but rapid estuary called Butter¬ milk channel separates it from Brooklyn, and the island is only reached by a gov¬ ernment ferry, which crosses the East river at the Battery. Governor’s island is considered the most desirable military station (for a residence) in the country, being very healthy, and then so conven¬ ient to this city that all the pleasures of the latter are within easy reach. On the extreme west stands a showy structure of stone called Castle William, whose em brasures and cannon have a defiant look, but really they are of no defensive power against a foreign fleet. In the centre of thc island, however, is a star fort of the most perfect character, aud near by are the officers’ dwellings, one of which now contains the honored corpse. Governor’s island first came into active use during the Mexican war, when it was a place of encampment for our volunteers. During the civil war, however, the number was increased to a vast extent, and often 20, 000 men were camped there, awaiting or¬ ders. It will henceforth have a new and impressive prominence in the history of one of the greatest of modern heroes.