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About North Georgia times. (Spring Place, Ga.) 1879-1891 | View Entire Issue (June 10, 1886)
NORTH GEORGIA « MES. ' V Wm. 0. Editor. Tlio Impassible. Man cannot draw water from on empty well, Nor trace tho stories that gossips tell, Nor gather the sounds of a pealing boll Man never can stop the billow’s roar, Nor change the winds till they blow no more, Nor drive true love from a maiden's door. Man cannot o'ertake a fleeting lie, Change his wheat to a field of rye, Nor call back years that have long gone by. Man cannot a cruel word recall, Letter a thought, be it great or small. Nor honey extract, from a drop of gall. Man never can bribe old Father Tima, Gaia the peak that he cannot climb, Nor trust the hand that hath done a crime. Man never can backward turn the tide, Nor count the stars that are scattered wide, Nor find in a fool a trusty guide. Man cannot reap fruit from worthless seed, Rely for strength on a broken reed, Nor gain a heart ho hath caused to bleed. Man never can hope true peace to win, Pleasure without and joy within, _ Living a thoughtless life of sin. JIM CHURCHILL. It was dusty, hot and badly ventilated indoors, although out of doors a cold rain was beating cheerlessly against thc car windows, and thc damp, raw wind was as fresh as thc brown hills nnd ice cov cred marshes it b!e\V over. It was an ac ccSmnodation train on one of the trunk lines in the central part of this Slate and therefore a better condition of affairs could not have been expected. No mat¬ ter how cold the weather or wet, it is al¬ ways hot and dusty on an accommoda¬ tion train. The colder and wetter it is outside, the hotter and dustier inside, nnd the more unpleasant it is the slower the train bumps over the rails, the more frequent the stops it makes, the larger tho crowd of ou-eoming passengers, and thc greater the throng of goers out. At Palatine Bridge thc train came to another stop. . On the uncovered platform of the railway station there were gathered a few shivering would-be-passengers, eager to barter one condition of discomfort for another almost equally as disagreeable and impatient at thc delay, for whoever knew an accommodation train to be on time? Among them were a man dressed • like a farmer and two little girls—the cl der loss than six years old and the young¬ er her junior a year or so—with fresh, smiling, dimpled faces and sweet, prat¬ tling voices, which even tho rumbling the train, thc sticky dust, the plashing rain, thc smoke, the heat and the crowd¬ ed load of ill-tempered passengers could not cloud or silence. They came into the car where I sat. Thc farmer and tho younger child found a vacant scat in front of me. I moved nearer thc aisle to let the other climb over the parcels by my side next to the window, out of which she gazed into the rain and through the blinding clouds of smoke which covered the soggy fields with an intensity of delight that was so unaffect cd that thc train ought to have felt flat¬ tered, had it had sense enough to feel anything. “I dess love to ride on the cars, don’t you?” shc asked after the train had re¬ sumed its tiresome journey. I ‘ ‘I do all the time. Sty papa is an en¬ gineer.” “Then you ride a good deal?” I ven¬ tured. “Not very much,” she answered with a little sigh of discontent; “not as much as I want to. Since Mamma went away, Papa won’t let me and Grandma always cries when I go on the cars.” “Ah?” “Didn’t you know that? You know my Papa?” she remarked with such con¬ fidence in my knowledge that I was al¬ most ashamed to say that I didn’t: “Don’t bother thc gentleman,” inter¬ rupted the farmer as he turned half around in his seat and faced me, “She is a big talker. “Shc doesn’t bother me in the least,” I made haste to say. So, reassured, thc little maiden turned her face to the win¬ dow, and in a moment was too much ab¬ sorbed in the fleeting panorama to re¬ member anything but the passing pleas¬ ure. “Her father was an engineer on this road—Jim Churchill. Ever heard of him?” continued the farmer after a short pause. “No. Well, I ain’t surprised. Yet he deserved to be known more’n lots of men that gets their names before the public. Jim and I was schoolboys to¬ gether up country near Palmyra. We was both raised in the same township, and we used to think when we was men we’d be partners, and so wc was—almost. Jim was bigger’n me, stronger and a year or so older. I was always a runt among the boys, and if it hadn’t been for Jim I’d probably been licked every day in my life. But Jim wouldn’ stand nothing of that sort. He was as brave as a giant and he never allowed anyone to be posed upon while he could prevent it, SPRING PLACE. GEORGIA, i ' URSDAY JUNE 10, 1886. and when the boys learned that he meant what he said they let me alone. 8o we grew up together.like two brothers. He loved me because I was weaker then he was, just as a father loves a baby, and I just Worshipped him. I’d a’ died for him, stranger, just as easy—if he’d only said the word. You ought to have know ed Jim Churchill. One Jim Churchill would make up for a half a million such fellows as me and the ordinary run of folks. “When we wero about sixteen years we had our first trouble. She was the prettiest girl in the county, and she was just as sweet and good as shc was pretty. She was the dominie’s daughter, and when she came to school Jim and I both set our caps for her at the same time. Funny, stranger, liow a pretty girl will com* between old friends. Two men' can live like twins a whole lifetime, but just let a pretty woman come in and they ‘ will fight like brothers-in-law over a will. When little Phillis came to school, and Jim and I rail races to ask to sec her home or to fetch her to Singing school or Sunday night meeting, then, stranger, we knowed the first trouble of our lives. Somehow we grew cold like, and before that year was ended wc did not speak. One night Jim and I met at her house. I was seventeen then, and Jim was over eighteen and as big as a man. He had a beard, almost, and he was as handsome as a picture. He didn’t know that I was there, or I don’t think he’d a called. I had been there about an hour, rud just before the knocker sounded Phillis had told me the old story wc all of us live to hear so well, and I felt as happy and light-hearted as a lark. When Jim came in and saw us sitting in the little old par¬ lor he seemed to know just what had happened like a flash. For a moment I thought he’d do something he’d regret sometime. His face got so black nnd sullen and his eyes got ugly. Phillis saw it, too, soon as I did. “‘Jim,’said she, her voice trembling just a little. ‘Jim, i want you and Bob to shake hands and bo friends.’ “Then I got up and held out my hand; though, to tell tho truth, I felt sort of nervous. | „ T ”^ , , her voh« get¬ < ' ting stronger and her face getting sweet¬ er and sweeter. 'I want you to lovo Bob again just as you used to, because—be¬ cause—I love him so much. Won’t you, Jim? for—my sake.’ , “I wish you could have seen Jim just thten, striWiger. I never saw the good in malj.^j' ’ hard bad a so with thc and come out ahead in all niv life beforo or since and never expect to again. Hc stood there by the epen window just as if he’d been carved out of stone. I didn’t know whether he’d heard what she said or not, he was so still. Then just ns I was about to take back my hand Jim took it in both of his so hard I almost dropped. Then he threw his arms around my neck, kissed me on my lips, flopped down on a chair, stranger, and cried like a baby. Phillis, the little woman, cried too, and there we all were with our arms around each other crying like women and not any of us knowing what wc was about. “That settled things with us. After that we was brothers just like we used to be. Well, it’s a long story, and I guess you won’t care to hear it all. So I’ll cut it short. When I was twenty-one I was married. Jim was our best man, and my oldest boy is named James Churchill Brown. About a year or so later Jim married. She was a cripple and sup¬ ported her mother doing sewing. But if she had been a royal princess Jim couldn’t have treated her any better. After he got on tho road he built her a little house near us and there they lived and there these little tots came into the world. About a year ago a little boy came to their cottage, but he only stayed a day or so, and when he went back to where he came from hc took the little mother back too, and these little ones were left behind. Jim never lost heart though, but the blow nearly killed him. Hc stood up under it as brave as a lion, and you’d never have known from his face, except that he didn’t smile the way he used to, that he knew what sorrow* was. One evening last week—it was an off-day with Jim—he and Phillis was out walking by the creek that runs through my meadow by the red barn. It was just dusk and my little boy was running on ahead playing in the snow when they came to the railroad crossing. Just as they got there Jim heard a whistle. It wasn’t time for the regular train, so he wasn’t watching for danger. It was a special and it was coming ’round the curve like lightning. My little Jim was playing on the culvert. Phillis heard the wliistle, she saw the boy on the track, and heard the rattle of the engine just as if it was a dream. Then she gave a little scream and fell down on the road in a faint—” ‘'East Creek!” called out the conduct or, as the train stopped again in the storm. “Oh! Uncle Bobl” cried the little maiden by iny side. “Look out the window. There’s Aunt Phillis and cous in Jim and there's grandpa and grandma and what a funny long black wagon that isl Look! Look!” she continued as the farmer gathered together Ills charges apd started for the door. “They arc putting a black box in the wagon, and Aunt Phillis is crying awful hard.” “Yes,” replied the farmer as he brush cd away a tear from his eyes. “Yes, that’s Jim Churchill, stranger, in that box . - ”—Benjam it^g Northrop Hi in Graphic, A London PdM1c School. One of the miserable it districts of Lon¬ don is to be found in Somers Town. Blocks of “Improved Dwellings” and sundry measures taken by the parish au¬ thorities have recently reformed it to a considerable extent. Yet it remains a haunt of poverty. The petty tradesman is the aristocrat of the neighborhood. The police in its streets are all picked men. The swells who go “slumming” through it, according to the fashion of the season, are looked at by the patient¬ eyed poor with the same wonderment that butterflies in its alleys would create. In the midst of this sordid district stands a handsome new Board School. It is as large as an average fortress of an¬ cient times. Its bounding walls contain a space of two acres. Within the intri¬ cacies of the play-grounds and covered courts and ground-floor passages the visit¬ or becomes bewildered. It reaches a height of many stories. And here, every day 2,200 poor children are being endow¬ ed with the inestimable benefit of a sound education. It is indeed quite a form in itself, filled with Lilliputians, who can exhibit at times remarkable free dom of speech and action. Their parents chiefly come under the •following catego¬ ries : laborers, 335; cabmen, 97; coalmen, 93; charwomen, 78; joiners, 50; porters, 45; painters, 44; carmen, 44; stokers, 32; bricklayers, 81; gas stokers, 25; stable¬ men, 25; blacksmiths, 25; fuctory men, 23; needle-women, 22; shoemakers, 22; - slaughterman, <21 » nHmej- servant;*, Si; costermongers, 19; bakers, 17; milkmen, 1(5; tailors, 10. Among the others are sweeps, potmen, cat’s-meat vendor-, hucksters, drovers, barmaids, barbers, plumbers, sailors, mangle-women, etc., etc. The social state of the people send¬ ing children to this school may be indi¬ cated by the single fact that, out of their number, 415 families inhabit only one room apiece, and 1,030 inhabit homes of two rooms. Tho families number six in¬ dividuals on thc average. Theodore Thomns. Theodore Thomas, whose name sounds so Anglo-Saxonisli, is a native of Hanov¬ er, thc son of a noted musician, and be¬ longs to a numerous musical family. He was a child prodigy, and astonished evefybody by his violin playing when ho was only 7 years old. At 8 hc gave a public concert at the capital, and was highly praised by the most careful critics. Not long after lie was brought to this country. His whole life has been devot¬ ed to the cause of music, and his devo¬ tion has borne good and abundant fruit. He has unquestionably done more for musical culture and advancement in the United States than any 20 men who might be named. The orchestra which he carefully selected and has drilled for years is not only the best, by all odds, in the country, but is not surpassed by any in Europe. Competent critics who at tended the Bayreuth festivals during Wagner’s life, where everything was as neafly complete as possible, declare that the famous orchestra was not a whit bet ter than, and some think it was not so good as, the orchestra of Theodore Thomas. He has made New York one of the great musical centres of the world, Every new composition of any value he introduces to us as early as practicable. Enthusiastic admirers of music who have spent years in German^ aro often sur prised to hear in New York compositions they have never heard in any of its capi tals.— New York Commercial Advertiser, t - ■■■ What She Feared.' “I understand, Mr. goftley,” said Miss Muffin, “that you play the violin.” “Well, yes, Miss Muffin, I—a—try to play the violin.” “That’s what I heard. You see, Mr. Softley, wo are going to have a little sociable at our house next Thursday evening. I wanted to invite you, but ma—she is so very anxious not to give anybody any trouble—ma was afraid that” “Oh, no trouble at all, I assure you, Miss Muffin,” eagerly interposed Softley. “It will be a positive pleasure to me to bring my violin.” “Ye-o-s—that’s what ma was afraid of.”— Traveller'* Gazette. C'T j? 11P1/ RY A WH AI P ! 1 J ( _ A Little Schooner Gets in the Way or a Monster _____ . , , „ , , JT . , - . „ S ver urnei an ragge. n o Bight by the Leviathan. * ^ t^hat and do I othcr know ammals about whales, of the sharks sea?” f h ° od C ^ ter ,.° f tho bri S Mar y 1 \ 1 ^ “ ‘ off hich brin 8 _ • ‘ Wi _ n (s o swear , , o. „ “In 1879,” he continued, after getting hit pipe alight, “I owned a small schoon er called the Ply, and I had her in the shell tmoe. I used to gather them on Santa Rosa Island, and from thence along tho coast clear around to Cape St. Bias. My cre« was composed of a negro, who act ed rf mate, and two boys. Being a wee bit of a craft and dodging among the islands most of the time, we did not need much of a crew nor any great amount of seamanship. It was in August of tuo year I have named that one after noon we were about midway between Santa Rosa and the cape, and about fifteen miles off the land. We were headed for the cape, and mak¬ ing about three knots an hour, tho wind being light aud the weather fine. One of the boys was at the wheel, the other asleep, and the mate was splicing a rope. I stood on the port bow looking at a broken spar floating a few hundred feet off. There was no sea on, and the Fly was on an even keel. Suddenly, and without a breath of warning, the schooner was lifted clear of the water with a great crash and flung on her beam ends It so happened that no one was thrown overboard, but before we could exactly Understand what had happened cra ^ turned turtle. “The first thing 1 knowed I was on her bottom, with one of the boys along¬ side :o’ me. I had a small keg o’ powder in the cabin, and my first thought was that vve were blown up. 1 didn’t cling to tills idea more’n a minute, however; for, :w I got the water „ut o’ my eyes, I caught sight of a great black maw along inn second, more, made mt ^he great square head of a whale. The water jist there was at least ninety feet deep, but it had been roiled up until it looked like a mud hole for an acre or two- around us. I got it through my wool pretty soon that we had been struck by a whale, and that the old leviathan of the deep was still alongside. In fact, I could have touched his nose with a twenty-foot pole. “Now, one of thc singular things is that we hadn’t seen thc spout of a whale that afternoon. Indeed, it is rare for one to run in so nigh that coast. Of course, there might have been a whale sporting around and we not seo him, but the chances aro that that fellow had made a run of several miles under water. When he came up to blow he foumd the Fly in his way, and hc threw her off his j nose as a bull would toss a gadfly. Tho blow must have dazed him, however, for it was a good three minutes before hc moved a fin. I could look into one of his eyes, and by and by I noticed it take on a malicious twinkle, and he gave his flukes a flirt and backed off about a liun dred feet. 11c was mad. He thought he had been attacked by some enemy, and he wanted revenge. “Well, sir, that consarned critter was coming for us. Being light, the Fly was high and dry out of water, aud offered a pretty fair target. He uttered ! a sll °rt, swung his flukes about, and came j head on, striking the schooner fair amid ships. He knocked the two of us twenty f ee * h*to the water, and he made a hole j in her side through which you could have flimg a water butt. The blow broke her fl ii U P> but as the water poured in she °aiy settled down until her bottom was a wash. When the boy and I got our eyes clear we noticed that the yawl, nigh full °f water, was floating a little way off, and we made for it. While I hung on to fhc bow he climbed in and bailed her out, and in about ten minutes we were afloat again. Meanwhile the whale had his nose agin the upset schooner, as if smell ing of her. She was between us and him, ! and it was a lucky thing for us. We hadn’t so much as a splinter to paddle with, and the breeze seemed to have died awa y about the time the Fly went over. “By and by old leviathan backed off for another round. This time he went J further, and he came faster, but as the schooner had settled down he slid up on j her bottom until his weight settled her | down and let him pass over. As he floundered over she rolled heavily to star j board and his flukes were no sooner clear ! 0 f her than she righted herself. In so | doiug both masts snapped off, and atan | g ] e 0 f cordage covered the water. The jq y hadn’t ballast enough to sink her, but she was down until her rail was al j most awash. The yawl was too small Vol. VI. New Series, NO. 18 . potatoes for the whale, or he reckoned \ on finishing the schooner first. lie lay quiet for a short time and inode another dash at her. Uc was kicking up such a sea ^at wc couldn’t exactly make out how he got fast in the wreckage; but fad jj e got. There was such a tangle of ropes ; that he probably drew some of them into j his mouth. Then the fun came to a cli max We had drifted away until well dear of him> an( ] apprehending no im- j ! mediate danger. What a commotion that chap k.cked up when he found himself toggled! lie rapped the water ; with his flukes until the sound could be heard a milc awaV) and ho roUed his huge bu , k to starboard and port until he raised j a gea h enough for a ten-knot breeze. I B and by he seemcd t0 get ratt , cd) Blld ofi he went, towing wreckage, schooner, and all ■' He mado thc most tremendous ! efforts to get clear, but as this was im- | possib)et hc headed right out to sea, and ! at lcngth wa s lost to sight. About mid nigh t that night we were picked up by a C0Mter The mate and one of the boya WMC clean obabl drowned under the F , ns shc went ovcr> but the othel boy _ now a man _. is Uving in Ne w Or lea and can back ever statement I have made.”-Yew York Sun. Ancient Writing Material. When the Prophet Ezekiel was com- j manded to write about the city of Jeru- j salcm, he was compelled to write his ac count on smooth tiles, and we find frag ments of such tiles to this day. The , heaps of n broken , pots , and crockery . of r all ,, sorts, which arc now so abundant ir, all Eastern towns, prove that bits of smooth stone or tiles were constantly used for this purpose. The Island of Elephantine, on the Nile, is said to have furnished more than a hundred such specimens. One of these is a soldo's leave of ab- 1 sence, scribbled on a fragment of an old vase. How little those scribes and ac- ) countants imagined the interest wirt ' which their descendants would <%e day treasure their rough notes 1 BtifNauaint the ., writing ... materials . . , of , those .. or were an dent Arabs who, before the. time of , Mohammed, T , i used , to . carve their . annals , ou the shoulder-blades of sheep. Tho ‘‘sheop^clrraniclcs* were stvntag .together, and thus preserved. After awhile sheep’s bones were replaced by sheep’s skin, and the manufacture of parchment was brought to such perfection as to place it among the refinements of ari AYc hear of vellums that were tinted yellow, others white. Others were dyed of a rich p' 1 - pie; and the writing thereon was in goiA | cn ink, with gold borders and many colored decorations. These precious manuscripts were anointed with the oil of cedar to preserve them from moths. Wc hear of one such in which the name of Mohammed is adorned with garlands of tulips and carnations painted in vived colors. Still more precious was the silky paper of the Persians, powdered with gold nnd silver dust, whereon were painted rare illuminations; while the book was perfumed with atter of roses or essence of sandalwood. Of thc demand for writing materials, one may form some faint notion from tho vast manuscript libraries of which records have been pre¬ served, as having been collected by the Caliphs both of the East and the West, the former in Bagdad, the latter in An¬ dalusia, where there were eighty great public libraries, besides that vast one at Cordova. Wc also hear of private libra¬ ries, such as that of a physician who de¬ clined an invitation from the Sultan of Bokhara, because the carriage of his books would have required 400 camels. The Eiglit-Ilonr System. “Papa,” said the daughter of a largo employer of labor, “are you iu favor of thc eight-hour system?” “Well, daughter,” he answered, “un¬ der certain circumstances, I am. “Oh, I’m so glad,” she rapturously ex¬ claimed. “Why, my dear, why are you so inter¬ ested?” “Because, papa, George has been only staying four hours every evening, and he told mo last night if you favored tho eight-hour system he needn’t go home nearly so early. You dear old papa, I’m so glad you are in favor of it,” and she threw her soft white arms about his neck and choked off all explanations.— IFasA ington Critic. Another Cure for Stammering. A writer in the Popular Science News gives the following as a method for tho cure of stammering: “Go into a room where you will be quiet and alone, get some book that will interest but not ex¬ cite you, sit down and and read two hours aloud to yourself, keeping the teeth closed, Do the same thing every two or three days or once a week if very tiresome, always taking care to read slowly and distinctly, moving the lips but not the teeth.” .9 __‘ My Hero. What signifies tho outward show? What Signifies bis weal h or placet When we the heart have learned to know, What do wo care for form or face! And what care wo for name or creed That buried ages may unroll, If under all wo clearly read Tho record of a dauntless soul! If lovnl toUissense of right, If prompt and sure at Duty’s call. Ho walks, as walking in God’s sight, His aim the manliest man of aU; If pltlfulof oUwr - g woos , Ho follows in the master’s way And bears a blessing where Ue goes; If, gaining much, he loses all, AVI)ilc summer friends go coldly by, lie proves his courage by his fall Resolved to win tho day or die; With hope alive, in God his trust, He keeps a spirit kind and true. And rises bravely from the dust To fight his weary battle through; If, working on through pain and loss, His earnest soul be not cast down; Ho beareth patiently his cross, Wliilo winning steadily his crown; The man’s hero! and we give Tho meed of love, which is hii due, No idle praise! but while we live, The wreath of bay! the knot of blue! —Helen Keith, HUMOROUS. “I smoothed everything over,” as tho laundress said. p le who wear pepper-and-salt suits an; al iu seasou . I v The , selhsh , _ has most of _ man presence \ _ . luni< ' ncver f°>guts mse f. “Buffaloes are bred in Kansas,” it is said. 1 hey are meat elsewhere, It would seem as if “rifle matches” were tho right kind for burglars’ use. “This is my sphere, ” said a happy wife, a s s!^ patted her bald-headed husband A^rulc 0 ._, pate. that works both ways-When a fleet goes out on a cruise tho crews go ou j on r j lc g eet “Brass , _ bands , the ,, arc on increase throughout , the country „ ” Even __ at the dogs , wear* them ion their necks. Teacher: “What animal is most ca of claspt '•tAohiug itself leech. to 1 ' man? ’ Hgad ^ the “Tho Can tho sound in a man’s head, when his wife hits him with a rolling-pin, bo describe d as a •“marriage ring?” When a young lady tells a young man that she will not have him, does it tie him up in a beau knot, as it were? /Lin!c Boy_p a , why does the world move? p H ( th inking of something else) because it finds it cheaper than to pay rwd “Well, that beats me,” the boy ex¬ claimed when liis teacher sent him to the principal’s room to borrow the master’s rattan. Tho School of Patieuco. My dear boy, if a man can only culti¬ vate patience and strength, it seems to mo he will be a good neighbor, a pleasant man to do business with, a safe man to trust and the kind of a man the world loves, even though he lack wisdom, and hath no genius, and can’t tell a good story or sing a note. How much does the fretful, restless, hurrying old world owe to the patient man, who finds his strength “in quietness and confidence,” who can bo patient with our faults, our fancies, our wickedness; who can be quiet when thc softest word would have a sting; who can wait for storms to blow over and for wrongs to right themselves; who can patiently and silently endure a slight un¬ til he has forgotten it, aud who can even bo patient witli himself. That's tho fel¬ low, my boy, who tries my patience and strength more than any man else with whom I have to deal. I could get along' with the rest of the world well enough, if he were only out of it. I can meet all my other cares and enemies bravely and cheerfully enough. But when myself comes to me with his heart aches and blunders and stumblings, with his own follies and troubles and sins, somehow he takes nil the tuck out of me. My strength is weakness and my patience is folly, when I come to deal with him. He tires me. He is such a fool. He makes the same stupid blunder in the same stupid why so many times. Sometimes, when I think I must put up with him and his ways all my life I want to give up. And then the next time lie comes to me with liis cares and the same old trouble ho seems so helpless and penitent that I feel sorry for him, aud try to be patient with him, and promise to help him all I can, once more. Ah, my dear boy, as you grow older, that is the follow who will try you and torment you, and draw on your sympathy, and tax your patience and strength. Be patient with him, poor fellow, because I think he does love you, and yet as a rule you are harder on him than any one else.— Burdette in Brooklyn Eagle.
