Newspaper Page Text
NORTH GEORGIA w % TIMES. 0
Wm. C. MARTIN, Fditor.
The Lillie IlnnchbncS.
I'm nine years old! an’ you can’t guess how
much I weigh, I bet!
Last birthday I weighed thirty-three, an’ I
weigh thirty yet!
awful little for my size—I’m purt’ high
littler on’
babies is, an neighbors ail calls me “tko
little man!’’
An’ Doc one time he laughed an said, “I ’spent
first thing you know,
You’ll have a little spike-tail coat an’ travel
with a show!”
An’ nen I laughed—till I lookod round and
Aunty was a cryin’—
she acts like that, ’cause I got
“Curv’ture of the spine!”
I set—while aunty’s washing—on my little
long leg stool,
An’ watch the little boys an’ girls a-skippin’
by to school;
An’ I peck on the winder an' holler out an’
say:
“Who wants to fight the little man’at dares
you oil to-day t”
An’ nen the boys climbs on the fence, an’ lit¬
tle girls peeks through,
they all say: “'Cause you’re so big, you
think we’re ’feared o’ you?”
An’ non they yell, an’ shake their fist at me,
like I shake mine—
thust in fun, you know, ’cause I got
“Curv’ture of the spine!”
evening, when the ironin’s done, an
aunty’s lixyl the fire.
filled an’ lit the lamp, and trimmed the
wick an’ turned it nigher,
An’ fetched tko wood all in fer night, an’
locked the kitchen door,
An’ stuffed tbo olo crack where the wind
blows in up through the floor—
She sets the kittle on tho coals, an’ biles mi’
makes the tea,
fries the liver an’ mush, an’ cooks a egg
fer mo,
sometimes, when I cough so hard, her
elderberry wine
go so bad for little boys with “curv’ture
of the spine!”
childish, like, on my ac¬
count, you see,
most afeared sbo’U bo took down, an’ ’ats
v hat bothers me—
’Cause ef my good ole aunty ever would got
sick an’ die,
I don’t know what she’d do in heaven, till I
come, by an’ by,
she’s so ust to all my ways, an’ every¬
thing, you know,
one there like me, to nurso, an’ worry
over so,
all the littlo childrens thoro’s go
straight an’ strong, an’ fine,
They'* nary angel ’bout tho place with
“curv’ture of tho spine.”
J. W. Jiilcy in the Current
THE LAST STRAW.
Mrs. Slack was next neighbor to the
Peppers when they bought their cottage
at Seaview, and on the very first night
she tumbled over the scattered bits of
furniture in the passage and appeared in
their midst unexpectedly to borrow a lit¬
tle salt. She said it was nice to have
neighbors again, jind that Mrs. Pepper
looked so sweet she knew she wouldn’t
mind.
At midnight she roused them from their
slumbers to inquire if they bad any chol¬
era medicine, for little Peter had been
eating too many green apples and she
thought he would die. She said she was
thankful Mrs. Pepper had moved in, and
that but for that circumstance she might
have lost her darling. Mrs. Pepper was
thankful, too, and the two women em¬
braced with tears. Then Mrs. Slack bor¬
rowed some mustard for a plaster.
The next clay she sent Peter, fully re¬
covered and with his pockets full of
green fruit, to ask for the ax, the handle
having come off theirs; also a rolling-pin.
Fortunately the Peppers possessed
three axes and two rolling-pins, so they
did not feel disturbed by the fact that
the articles were never returned. But
after a short interval filled by loans of
coal, potatoes, bread and cheese, Mrs.
Slack came herself to borrow the folding
table, a pair of scissors, the pattern of a
basque, and a low rocking-chair. She
was going to make some dresses, and if
Mrs. Pepper would step over and fit lic r
she’d be much obliged.
' Mrs. Pepper did it and made the but¬
ton-holes, too. Mrs Slack never could
learn to make a button-hole. The table,
the scissors, the rocking-chair, and the
pattern all remained at Mrs. Slack’s.
The next week Mrs. Slack borrowed a
mantle and a water-proof.
Mrs. Pepper by this time grew
enough to beg that she would send
home when she returned.
Mrs. Slack said “Of course,”
some offense, but when Peter was
seen it was not to bring back those
cles. What he wanted was the
carriage and a market basket.
Christmas time came and with it
for a party. The Slacks so hoped
all come and enjoy themselves.
Having accepted what was more
ral than to take an interest » the
ceedings—to lend sugar arid
freezer, butter, and the egg-beater,
cut-glass goblets and the best table-cloths,
the spice-box entire, and lots of
things? Finally Mrs. Slack, wMa
gown tucked up and her eyes
xan it to sax that they thought a
SPRING PLACE. GEORGIA, THURSDAY, AUGUST 5, 1880.
be nice and could Mrs. Pepper
the piano for one evening?
“There’s nobody to move it,” said
Pepper, rejoiced to have an excuse
"I’m so sorry.”
Mrs. Slack laughed and went to tho
Fonr big laborers appeared
and without any preliminary directing
shouldered the instrument and lugged it
away. They bumped it against railings
and fairly tumbled it down in a plowed
field before they finished their mission,
but by main Strength they got it at last
to the Slack’s door and Mrs. Slack took
her leave, carrying the piano stool and
cloth herself.
The appearance of her beloved piano
gave Mrs. Pepper a great deal of unhap¬
piness that evening. It had a deep
scratch on tho cover and one of tho keys
wouldn’t lift, However, she played
and sets for the lancers most of
the evening, and as the company went in
to supper in relays—old folks first and
young folks last, as Mrs. Slack said—she
found very little left but a cup of coffee
and a turkey-bone when her duties were
But there is an end to everything.
day she saw Mrs. Slack driving up
road in tho minister’s new buggy.
was wearing the pretty mantilla slit
borrowed of her. With her usual lit¬
giggle she stopped at the garden gate.
Mr. Pepper had taken a holiday and
lying in the hammock reading. His
had her sewing under the oak trees
was extremely happy and comforta¬
If Mrs. Sleek had come to ask her
drive she had resolved not to go. She
say: “My husband has so few
I cannot leave home to-day.”
But Mrs. Slack did no such tiling.
“You deer, good soul!” she cried, as
as she was within speaking distance,
“I came to borrow your husband.”
“Borrow what l" ejacalated Mrs. Pep.
“Your husband,” said Mrs. Slack,
“Slack’s in New York; I am going to a
picnic; I want an escort and some one
drive. May I have him?”
“You ought to ask Mr. Pepper him¬
self,” said Mrs. Peppor, very coldly.
“I shan’t,” said Mrs. Slack, playfully,
“I came to borrow him of you. You’ll
lend him, won’t you? and I shall toll
every one that dear, good angel, Mrs.
lent me her husband.-”
“You insist I shall answer,Mrs. Slack,”
Pepper answered.
“Yes,” lisped Mrs. Slack, “you’llilend
won’t you?”
“No!” said Mrs. Pepper in a wry de¬
cided tone, “I am afraid I shouldn’t gel
him back. I let you have my piano.
That hasn’t been returned. My water¬
proof—where is that? My bale’s car¬
riage—your baby takes air in it now.
My cutting-board and scissors, my roll¬
ing-pin, an 1 all the rest, I haven’t seen.
But I promised to cleave unto my hus¬
band till death doos us part! You surely
never would return him!”
“Oh! oh! oh!” screamed Mrs. Slack,
turning pink. “You wicked woman!
You mean thing! You shall have all
your horrid things back. Do you want
your spoonful of salt, too, you mean,
mean wretch?”
Then, tearing the mantilla from her
shoulders, she threw it tot Mr. Pepper’s
head as he struggled from the hammock
and drove away.
She borrowed a phawl from the clergy¬
man's wife and went to thcipicnic with
her eldest boy as escort.
Before her return Mrs. Pepper had
proceeded to her neighbor’s house and
collected her goods and chattels.
The piano was out of tune and scratch¬
ed; onions had been kept in the ice¬
cream freezer, and the mantle had .a
grease-spot on one shoulder; the child¬
ren had cut a game on the lap-board, and
it was evident Mr. Slack had whipped
them with the egg-beater. The baby
carriage had been used to carry char¬
coal home, and the points of the scissors
were gone. So was Mrs. Slack’s love.
She goes about abusing Mrs. Pepper as
the meanest and most jealous thing she
ever knew.
Knew the Deep IMuces,
A passenger said to the pilot of
steamboat: “You have been a long
time, I suppose, at this business?”
“Yes,” answered the pilot, “upwards
of twenty years.”
“You kuow, then,” pursued tho pas¬
senger, “every rock and shoal?”
“ Not by a long way, ” was the an¬
swer, “but I know where the deep water
is.”
Another Match Spoiled.
They were looking over her family al
bum, Birdie and her Harold, when they
came to a portrait of an aged gentleman,
‘‘Who is that old baboon?” asked Har
°^
“Why, replied Birdie, shutting up
tho book angrily, “You don’t think
grandpa looks like a baboon, d O you,
Harold?”— New York Graphic "
A PILOT’S LIFE
Dangers of tho Man who
Guides Ships to Harbor.
Qualified Seamon who aro Invested with
Groat Responsibility.
Whether there be dangers in tho soa,
iky or mr, the perilous nature of a pilot’s
duties makes it imperative that he meet
it with a cheerful alacrity, for the esprit
du corps existing in the guild is imperious
in its influence. Cast among the broth¬
erhood the pilot must not lose, or else he
is indeed a ruined man. Except in the
matter of discipline, full command of the
vessel is vested in the pilot. His respon¬
sibility is great; the general rule being
that no owner or master of a ship is an¬
swerable to and other person for any
loss or damage occasioned by the fault or
incompeteucy of a qualified pilot acting
in charge of the ship when she is within
the district of the pilot and when his
employment is compulsory; though the
presence of a pilot does not absolve a
master from the consequences of any in¬
jury that may be caused by his own care¬
lessness or ignorance. He must be ready
at call, and under all circumstances, to
face alike the winter’s cold, blinding
sleet and the summer’s heat, the storm
and the sunshine; and blow high or low,
in fair weather or in foul, tho pilot must
be at his statiofi to guide safely all in¬
And in Boston Bay this is particularly
true. Said a man who has lived all his
life on Capofood to a writer in the Bos¬
ton Record -. 1,1 “We have had piled up on
the shore during the past 100 days many
vessels which are a total loss. The men
who navigated them were saved, thanks
to the gallantry of the life saving force,
but thousands of dollars worth of prop¬
erty aro buried in tho sand. What the
further losses will bo no man can tell, but
we do know that unskillful seamanship
and an imperfect knowledge of the coast
is responsible for much of the loss. But
while it is true that there lias been this
large loss, hundreds of vessels have sailed
safely by and have been brought to an¬
chor in a secure harbor. I have .not
heard of « Tcwcfr^g
a pilot on board, and I do not think
'here has been one.”
It is perhaps needless to say that the
pilot is a qualified seaman, thorough in all
nautical accomplishments; for he can
“hand, reef and steer,” navigate by
sun, moon or star, and with tho “marks
and deeps” of tho lead line, familiar to
him as his own handwriting, he knows
the intricacies and varying depths of the
many channels. A technical knowledge
of all rigs, too, is his, besides a sign
manual by which he can make him&elf
understood by sailors of all nations.
How relieved in mind must be the mas¬
ter of a great ocean steamer, with
hundreds of passengers and its precious
freight, after battling with the stormy
Atlantic for days, with scarcely a single
peep at the sun, and in doubt about his
reckoning and position, to see, away off
shore, one of these littlo pilots vessels
making her way towards him. Gallantly
she holds her course, heeling and right
ing, pitching and ascending, and as she
moves up under the snug canvas, looking
like a boxer stripped for the fight, there
is seemingly a sentient power in her every
motion. It is the skill and training of
years that puts the little craft so easily
within two cables’ length under the lee
of the steamer. Now conies the crucial
test, for the pilot must board the waiting
craft. Tho agile crew must grasp the
little boat from the deck, and poising it
on the rail, in the very nick of time,
launch it over into the seething foam
alongside. In jumps the pilot and his
two oarsmen and soon the tiny canoe can
be seen—now poised in midair on an an¬
gry wave crest and anon deep in
dangerous hollow, coming straight
the ship. One misstroke, the
weakening of a nerve, and the hardy fel¬
lows would be engulfed in the watery
chasm with no stone to mark their graves.
It is with delicate care and skill that
frail craft is ranged alongside when a
is thrown, by which, grasping with
cles of steel, up the side the pilot springs,
hand over hand, until he alights on
deck.
Had Tried Bolh W ays.
“How can you tell whether
pays?” a merchant was asked. “I
tell that advertising pays by
it, ’’lie replid. ‘ ‘I’ve tried it. Trade
the tide of purchasers flows some
way.’’“Suppose you should give up adver
tising?” I should save up a big pile
mon ey, but should lose a bigger pile,
You must keep the boilers heated if
want gt eam. If you bank your fires
long, it takes times to start them up.”
It was a Vassar graduate who wanted
to know if the muzzle of a gun was to
prevent it from going off prematurely,
Bow the Indians Made Sugar.
’llipmas Conant, an old resident of
writes to the Toronto Globe l
Jesuit fathers, who were the first
men in this country among the In¬
tell rath.it the Indians made sug¬
regularly every spring by tapping tho !
maple. At this time the Indians
not have iron kettles for boiling tho
sap in. Then it becomes a curious
question how they did manage to boil
down the succulent juice without a kettle !
to boil it in. They tapped the trees with
their tomahawks, and inserted |» spile in
the incision to conduct the sap *from the
trees to the vessel beneath. Their spilo
was a piece of dry pine or cedar wood,
grooved on its upper side for the sap to
<3 iv down. No doubt this process was
extremely chide, still, with all its crudi¬
ties, they succeeded iu producing a con¬
siderable quantity of sugar each spring.
Their buckets were made by taking a
roll of birch bark and sewing up the ends
with deer sinews or roots. Thus they
got a vessel capable of holding a pailful,
and no doubt the sap caught in such ves¬
sels was just as sweet as that which
we now gather in our bright tin pails at
far greater expense and trouble. Gath¬
ering tho sap from the birchen buckets,
it was carried by the original red man to
the boiling-place. At this boiling-placo
was a largo caldron made of largo sheets
of birch baric. Beside the caldron a tiro
was built, and in this fire was placed a
lot of stones. As soon as the stones be¬
came heated to a red heat they wero
dropped into flic birchen caldron, previ
ously filltfd with sap. By taking out tho
cooled stlmos and putting in more hot
ones, and repeating tile process, even
slow as it was, they got the sap to boil
fng. Once.’got to boiling, by reheating
the extracted stones, they kept up the
boiling mid so contiuuod the process, un
til after a time they got the sap boiled
down, mid sugar was tho result. That
was making sugar without tho aid of a
kettle, and. no doubt many will doubt
the accuracy of the statement. It is a
positive fact, for my forefathers
came to this province in tho last century
have handed clown in family
the styey cy Dio process just ns I
‘ ******* . rt ’ Indcod > ^ , wcro
nesses of the process themselves. With
the advent of settlers of course the Indi¬
an soon learned better, and traded his
furs with the fur-dealer for iron kettles,
and then began making sugar much as
the white man does now.
The Horseback Cure.
There is a saying among the Russians
that a man who is fond of his horse will
not grow old early. Tho Arab and tho
G'ossack are examples of the truth of the
proverb. They genendly live long, en¬
joy robust health and have no use for
liver pads and blue pills. That vigorous
octogenarian, David Dudley Field, tells
us that he attributes his remarkably vi¬
tality to the habit of horseback riding,
and if the truth were known, it would
he doubtless appear that our sturdiest
old men are those who have been fond of
tho saddle. Tlie taste for equestrian
sports and exercise whidr has lately made
such progress in Brooklyn is, therefore,
a hopeful and healthful sign. It is not
a mere freak of fashion, but a develop¬
ment in the direction of rational enjoy¬
ment and an assurance that the rising
generation will be less of an indoor and
more of an outdoor people. It means
less headache hereafter, 1 letter appetites,
stronger Jungs, rosier cheeks, brighter
eyes, sounder sleep, happier spirits, and
a total oblivion of that organ which, ac¬
cording to Sidney Smith, keeps men a
good deal lower than the angels—the
liver .—Brooklyn Eagle
A Wonderful Toy.
A wonderful toy has been on private
exhibition in Paris. Fancy seven life
sized kittens covered with real skin, but
with eyes of emerald set in white enamel,
and playing upon a flute, a zithern, a
violin, a drum, a harp, a cornet and an
accordion, all perfectly harmonized and
going through the most striking airs of
the new and successful comic operas!
The unseen mechanism is of tlie same
kind as that of a musical box, and the
sounds given forth are most delightful,
so that the owner of this remarkable toy
can have a most agreeable concert at any
time by touching certain springs and
winding them up.
He Was Too Sociable.
Old Bloonose—By tho way, Jane,
what has become of Mr. Litewaite? He
used to be a frequent visitor.
Jane (shortly)—I am afraid that ho
wasn’t treated very well when he did
call.
Bloonose—What! Jane, I’m surprised!
There wasn't a night he called to see you
that I didn’t go into the parlor and
smoke my oid clay pipe for hours, just as
sociable as if I’d known him for years.—
Call.
Vol. VI. Hew Series. NO. 2 G.
Has Been There.)
“I was a tramp for several years/’ wild
A buggy washer at one of the livery sta-'
hies tho other day, “and I might have
been on tho road yet hut for the circum¬
stance which deprived mo of this left leg
at tho knee. A tramp with a wooden
leg would be nowhere, while I get around
the stables at a fair gait.”
“What Wits the circumstances?”
“Well, seven or eight of us were
tramping together through the oil regions
of Pennsylvania, and one day one of the
gang stole a can out of a shed in the
woods. It contained nitroglycerine,
but none of us knew the article then. Ho
carried it for about an hour, when wo
nil bunked down in the shade for a noon
day nap. Some of us were half asleep,
and we were all packed together under
one tree, when the man picked up a
stone and began hammering at the can.
I was looking at him out of one eye, and
I was wondering whether the can held
oil or lard, when all at once the vaults
of Heaven fell ‘to earth with a crash.
Half au hour later, when I came to, I
was lying in the bushes 1300 feet from the
tree, and my foot, ankle and leg wero
mass of pulii.”
“There had been an explosion?”
“You bet! There was a hole in
ground into which you could
dumped a cottage, and ttio big tree
a heap of kindling-wood. Out of
eight of us five could not he found;
I suffered Die least injury of any of
wounded. All that was gathered
gether to represent five men wore
bits of clothing and leather—not
two quarts. That was a corker on me.
i Whenever I see a stray can lying
I lift my hat, take a circle to the right
j left, and pensively observe: ‘Not
to-day, thank you—I’ve been there!’
Detroit Free Press.
The Arabian Horse.
Arabian horses are being imported into
America to a slight extent of recent years.
Messenger, the famous old stallion from
whom our American trotting stock is all
descended, had a largo strain of Arabian
blood in him.
Arabian stallions have been brought to
this country from time to timo as pres¬
ents to public men and others. But it is
doubtful if a full-blooded Arabian marc
was ever in the United States. They
ore valued more highly than the stallions,
and not allowed to leave the country.
There are six distinct families of horses
in Arabia, and tho pedigree of some of
them runs back unmistakably for tivo
hundred years. They come of old families.
These are the horses for swiftness and
endurance. They aro not draught horses,
but in the two qualities named they excel
all other breeds in the world. They
have delicate necks and fine, small,
straight limbs, flashing eyes and a strong,
flowing mane and tail. They are not
large, fifteen and a half hands being an
unusual height. The back is not nrehed
much, tho tail is high set, and the hoofs
are always small, black and very tough.
Centuries of pounding over the sands of
tlie desert have made them so. They
have small ears and powerful chest, from
which they get their great endurance.
They aro distinguished for soundness of
wind and limb, though their high-bred,
far-off cousin, tho Kentucky horse, of
late years seems to bo developing a lack
of hardiness.
The Arabian horse is noted, too, for its
gentle temper and intelligence. Its mas¬
ter, the Arab, says the horse is Allah’s
best gift to man.
Quite Sane.
Harry—I hear that you have lost your
father. Allow me to express my sympa¬
thy.
Jack (with a sigh)—Thank you. Yes,
he has gone; but the event was expected
for a long time, and the blow was con¬
sequently less severe than if it had not
been looked for.
II.—His property was large?
J.—Yes; something like a quarter of
a million.
II.—I heard that his intellect, owing
to his illness, was somewhat feeble dur¬
ing his latter years. Is there any prop
ability of the will being contested.
J.—No, father was quite sane when
he made his will, lie left everything to
me.—Boston Courier.
Warned.
“I tell you, it’s a great thing to have
a girl who knows enough to warn a fel¬
low of his danger.”
“Have you?” inquired one of the com¬
pany.
“Yes, indeed; Julia’s father and moth¬
er were laying for me tho other night,
when she heard my tap at the window,
and what do you suppose that girl did?’
“Can’t think.”
“She just sat down to the piano, and
sang the insides out of ‘Old Folks at
Home.’ You can just bet I didn’t call
that evening.”
PO)r Horning in the Harbor.
Fair moririnp w an the harbor,
And morning on the bay,
Aixi th» bote that were lying at anchor
Mow siii‘titty n^oal away.
No wind in thestf.'Wo boar them; —
_
They drift with til.'*tide afar, f
Till they enter the outer harbor
And silently cross the hart
It may be the skipper is sleeping, E j
Ho sits at the rudder so still;
It may be tbo skipper is thinking
Of his young wife on the hill.
She wastes no moment in sighing;
With day her labors begin,
Wide open she flings tin* shutters
To lot the still sunshine in.
She ptuisqs only^ui instant
To look at the steel-gray dew,
From that to the rose bush glances,
Where it sparkles fresh and now.
And down the slope to the harbor,
And over the harbor afar;
For her dear little heart with the skipper
Is just now crossing the bar, \ -
“God bless her!’’ the skipper is saying,
“God bless him!” the wife returns,
Thus each for the other is praying,
While ouch lor tho other yearns.
—James Herbert Morse.
HUMOROUS.
Plan facts—Western prairies.
The way of the world—Round its
axis.
Tho original boy cot—Cains littlo
crib.
A temperance movement—Turning on
the water.
It is a wise railroad stock that knows
its own par.
A cannibal is believed to bo very fond
of. Ilia-fellow men.
Professor-—Which teeth comes last ?
Pupil.—the false ones,' sir.
A porous plaster lias been boycotted,
but the proprietors resolve to stick.
A six-year-old child being asked,
“What is a rope ?” replied, “A fat
string.”
The man with a No. 15 neck and a
No. 14 collar has a hard struggle to make
both ends meet.
Dun (drawing out a bill) : Excuse
me, sir—-Perplexed debtor (hurrying
away) ; Prfty v ,dun’t moution it.
“Who should decide whan doctors disa¬
gree ?”. Wo don’t know who should, but
wm know that the undertakers generally
does.
That new dictionary with 240,000
words is intended to provide a sufficient¬
ly large vocabulary with which to ad¬
dress the base ball umpires during a
dispute.
There is a slight difference between
the dead beat and tho apprehended
thief. One asks the bar to chargo the
account, and the bar asks the other to
account the charge.
Professor at Columbia—“We cannot
taste in the dark. Nature intends us to
see our food.” Student—“How about a
blind man’s dinner ?” Professor—“Na¬
ture has provided him with eyeteeth,
sir.”
^ good deal is being said lately about
tho ability of young wives to cook. The
ability of young husbands to provide
them with something to cook ought not
to be entirely left out of tho question.
When you seo a business man look melan¬
cholic,
With haggard face and dull, complaining
eyes,
It’s not because of biliousness or colio ;
The trouble is he doesn't advertise. N
Tho Warlike Apache.
A correspondent of the Chicago Inler
Occan says: The Apache is not only the
warlike of American Indians —and
l do not except the U to ludians, the
Sioux, nor the Comanches—but he is also
most skilled in war. Trained to an
which would be unattainable
a more endurable country; with the
of a hawk, the stealth of a coyote,
courage of a tiger, and its mcrciless
he is the Bedouin of the new world,
lie has horses that will exist on a blade
of grass to an acre, and will travel 110
miles in twenty-four hours thereby with¬
out falling dead on the homestretch. Ho
knows every foot of his savage country
better tlinn you know the interior of
your parlor. He finds water and food
where tho best of us would starve to
death for the want of both. More than
100 different plants yield him intestinal
revenue. He has fastnesses from which
no force can dislodge him; and when
you lay siege ho quietly slips out by
some back door canon, and is off like
thistle down on the wind.
The daggerousness of an Indian is in
inverse ratio to his food supply. Tho
Apache, born to starvation, his whole
life a constant fight to wrest a living from
vixenish nature, as well as to wrest life
from his neighbor, is whetted down to a
ferocity of edge never reached by the In
dian of a section where wood and water
and facile game abound.
