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About North Georgia times. (Spring Place, Ga.) 1879-1891 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 12, 1886)
NORTH GEORGIA TIMES. * Wm. C. MARTIff, Fditor. Hope* I lay In grief And hope drew near to whero I tossed alone Without relief, And paused a moment when she heard that moan; Then raised her glowing eyes and met mine own. Never a word she Faid, Vot still I gazed and still was comforted '1 hen bending low with wond'rous grace Sho laid her hand upon my eyes, Her ccol hand on my burning face, And at her touch bright visions rise, Flesh woods and streams and unimagined skies. In softest tone F’ho sung tho song that has no close, That deathless song which no ono know^ Save she alone; The fong tbnt leaves no memory. The soug of endless victory And future love; And as I listened to the voieo abovo, 1 felt as ono returning from the dead; Slowly I roso and raised my drooping head. — Siftings. _ THE DOWN-HILL HOAD. “I guess I never told ye ’bout Josiah’s Occident that he had a few years ago, did I, when he and I was goin’ to Murry villo, tradin’? Wal, if I haih’t, then I will, that is, if you won’t tell him that I told on’t, ’cause he’s alias sayin’ a wom¬ an can’t keep nothin’ to herself, and I allow there is some things I can’t keep, and this is one on ’em. “As I was goin’ to say, Josiah had got to go and git a lot of stuff, some paint, a few rails to fix thc fence with, some meal an’ bran, an’ one thing an’ another, I don’t remember jest what now, only I Yiad occasion to remember these few. I’d got to have some cotton cloth, catikcr, molasses, sugar, etc., so I told him I guessed I’d go along too. So I packed some eggs into n peck measure of oats, an’ I had pretty near a pound of feathers tied up in a paper bag that I had been savin’ along, so I thought I’d take ’em an’ turn ’em towards my cloth an’ things. “We loaded up an’got started early onjj Saturday morn in.’ We took thc old gray mare an’ thc lumber-wagin. Ye see7 JosiaR'tTiouglat lie could bring the rails better in ,a long wagin. Tho dash¬ board was split off pretty low down, but he said lie guessed ’twould hold all we should want to bring without spillin’ out. So wc drove along an’ got to to\vn about ten o’clock. “I went round to Jacobs’s and sold my eggs, an’ to Hyde & Taylor’s with my feathers, but they wouldu’t give me my price, so I jest put ’em back into tho wagin, an’ went to Loomis’s and bought my cloth and things, an’ got back to Williams’s stable — where Josiah alias keeps his horse—at jest two o’clock, an’ he wa’n’t there, so I went to the milliner’s shop to git my bunnit fixed, an’ so told the stable feller to tell Josiah where I was, an’ to come after me with the team. When I got there the bunnit hadn’t been touched, an’ in a few minutes up drove Josiah. Now, if you ever went any¬ where with a man that’s alias in a hurry, why, then, it’s no use for me to under¬ take to tell ye what I went through with a-tryin’ to keep that man from goin’ off without me or sassin’ that milliner. But wc got started at last, and Josiah says, says he: it t We’ve got sich a load, and its so kinder hot, I’m goin’ to take the down¬ hill road; it’s a good deal nigher that way than ’tis t’other, an’ a better road, too, except that pesky hill.’ “ ‘Yes,’ says I, “pesky hill" is jest where I shan’t go. I’ve rid down that hill once, n-holdin’ on with all my might, an’ like ter pitched out the wagin head fust. No, sir, if you go that road you’ll have to stop an’ let me git out.’ “Now you know Josiah as well as I do; he’ll do anything to save a cent o’ money or a minute’s time, and he’s alias savin’ “time is money.” “Wal, I let him have his way rather than to have any more words about it, but when we got to the hill I got out, an’ after Josiah had took a good cud o’ tobacker into his mouth, he and the old mare jogged along; but 1 see a few bram¬ ble berries ’longside the road, and stop¬ ped to pick a few on ’em, when I heerd somethin’ go kerslam, and there the old mare was, flat down, the wagin kinder standin’ on end, an’ Josiah a-sprawlin’ around on the horse’s back, an' the jug o’ molasses, pot o’ paint, an’ measure o’ oats on top of him, an’ somethin’ o’ rather had wet my bag of feathers an’ made a big hole in’t, and things was kinder squeezed onto ’em, so that they was a-puflin’ out in all directions. The cork got out o’ the jug, an’ the fence rails was stan’in’ in the air, some on cross-ways an’ I don’t know what not. If that didn’t beat all the sights I see. I never was so tickled in my life, an’ if it had killed him I don’t believe could have helped laffin’, for there lay, covered with paint, molasses, feath- SPRING PLACE. GEORGIA. THURSDAY. AUGUST 12, 1880. crs, oats, bran an’ dirt, an’ a madder man you never sec than he was. “Now, Josiah don’t very often swear in my hcarin’, but I tell ye there was a blue streak on’t down that hill that after noon, what wa’n’t already streaked with paint and molasses. Says I: “ ‘Josiah, what’s happened? Don’t ye like the down-hill road ? ’ “ ‘Consarn it! that's woman all over, Ain’t satisfied with sccin’ a man. stove round in this way, without twittin’ on its bein’ bis own fault; an’ that aint all; ye won’t sleep a wink to-uight ’til ye’ve told ev’ry man, woman'an* child in the neigh¬ borhood.’ “I jest stood there and hild on to my sides ’til I thought I should go off, an’ when I got so I could speak, says I: ‘Jo¬ siah Jones, you’re a picture fer a Comick Almanack, if ever there was one, entitled ‘A henpicked husband, tarred an’ feath¬ ered an’ ridin’ on a rail.’ As mad as he was, ho couldn’t help laffin’, but lie didn’t laf! long, for when lie got kinder gethered up, an’ began to pick oflE the feathers, an’ look at himself, and take kinder of an inventory o’ thiugs, his countenance fell a rod, I tell ye. Hut if you’d ben there, as I was, an’ seen the molasses and oats drippin’ oil his trow sers-lcgs into the tops of his shoes, his hands all paint an’ sand, an’ his stove¬ pipe lmt all stove in on one side, with a big gaub o’ putty, you’d ’a thought the specimen o’ humanity was the wust you oversee. He went 'round an’ begun to pick up things, an’ says I: ‘Josiah, what’s become o’ that cud o' tobacker ye put in yer mouth jest as 70 started off?’ “Gosh! Samantha, I must hcv swal lc'rcd it.’ “Ye oughter seen his eyes when he said it. Ef it had a pizened him then and there, I should have laughed to seen that scart and melancholy look on his face as soon ns I reminded him on’t. “‘Swallercd it?’ ” says I. “ ‘Yes, swallercd it. I guess if you had been jounced out of that or wagin tlie way I w.as, you’d a-swallered yer tongue, an’ I declare ’twould a been a good thing for mo ef ye had.’ “Jest as he said that, I looked down -the road. What should I see a-fcomin’ but Sam Pease’s team, an’ if yon had seen Josiah Jones and them feathers a-streakin’ it through that cornfield yon¬ der, you’d a thought the Evil One was at his heels. “As Sam come along up, says he: u 1 Why, Mis’ Jones, what’s the mat¬ ter? Did ye git spilt out?’ ” “‘No,’ says I, ‘/h’aint, hut cv’rything else lias.’ “‘I should think so,’ says he. ‘Has everything gone?’ ” “ ‘Yes, even to Josiah.’ ‘Was Mr. Jones with ye?” ’ ‘He was, but lie ain't now;’ an’ I laughed agin, as I thought how that com must be feathered out by that time.’ “ Can’t I help ye to right up things a little?’ ” “‘No,’ says I; ‘I guess Josiah’ll be back pretty quick.’ it t Then ho didn’t git hurt, did he?’ ” n 1 Oli, no! I guess lie’ll kem out on’t all right,’ says I, but I kep’ up a terrible thinkin' all the time, wonderin’ how he was giftin' out on’t without me there to help him find his shirt au’ things; for the’ I’ve lived with that man goin’ on twenty-live years, an’ alias put his shirt in thc same place, yit lie alias come to me saying: “ ‘Samantha, where’s my shirt?” “ Wal, Sam ho histed the wagin ’round a little so’t he could git by, an’ he picked up some o’ the things, an’ he drovo along. By-an’-by I lieerd the bushes a kinder crackin’ behind mo, an’ I looked ’round, an’ there was Josiah a meachin’ along, peekin’ through thc bushes, an’ whisperin’: “ ‘Samantha, is anybody’round there?’ “ ‘No,’ says I. U f What ye ’fraid on? h’aint ye got rigged up yet?’ “ ‘Yes, the best I could. I can’t git it all off my hands, nor out o’ my hair, an’ I don,t want to see nobody till wc get out o’ this scrape. For goodness’ sake, Samantha, I wish you’d scratch some dirt over that paint an’ stuff there, so ’twon't look quite so destructive. Sich consarned luck, anyway! ’nother time, Samantha, I wish you’d stay to hum 1’ ‘“Good land o’ livin! what hcv I done? Didn’t I tell ye not to take this road 1 ’ << 1 Wal, ’notlier time, set in thc wagin, then, an’ ’not be a-pilin’ out jest fer a lit¬ tle hill.’ “‘Jest fer a little hill 1 I should say so! You’d jest like ter had me a-xval lerin’ ’round in that mess, too, wouldn’t ye? I tell ye what ’tis, old man, I don’t care to feather my nest in that way.’ 11 1 Wal, feather yer nest or not, shall have to work mighty hard to make up this ere loss; an’ that ain’t all, thinkin’ nuther. That jouncin’ I got an’ the run through tho cornfield has shook my dinner down, an’ I shall he glad to git bum an’ git somethin’ (’cat.* “There he was, ben through what he had, au’ mournin’ over all he'd lost, an’ yit the fust thing he thought on when he really come to his senses, was eatin.’ Wal, we got hum afore dark, an’ sich kcepin’ Sataday night you never sec; an’ to save our gizzards we couldn’t git that boss cleaned off so we could drive him to meetin’ Sunday; an’Josiah had to stay to . hum , for ,, the the same reason lioss did “Somehow I felt so tickled all tho time a-thmkin’ o’ the scrape 1 that , I wa’n’t , , m a very go-to-mcctin’ mood , myself ,. ; , but 1 thought ° mebbe ’twould sober me down an’I guess’twould ® if it hadn’t a ben for the lesce, minister . . preach- , sermon, ’ our \ ed , to . hat . _ Sunday an’ when , young men ho says, says he: Young men beware of the down-hill road; it leads to dcstruc tion.’ „ I T thought , . o’ , Josiah _ . - au’ , . his . de- . struction ... that . road, , an’ , I T snickered . , . on ’ right ... out—I , T couldn’t ,, ,, help it. .. An’ ... to 1 this day . I T cant hear , them ,, few . , " without ... fcelin’ - ....... ies’ .”—Rena _ Riverton. ... , J so Life in Persin. Though Persia moves a little, it is ono of the most unprogressive empires. It had no postal system until 1870. It has but one wagon road of nny considerable length. No railroads have been built, as the Shah will not incur the financial risk, nor make an investment of foreign capital secure. Tho telegraph now con¬ nects thc capital with provincial capitals. The cost of living has greatly increased in thc last few years. Most of the Per¬ sians aro very poor, the tenants or agri¬ culturists forming the poorest class. A merchant with $50,000 is considered very rich. The social life of Persia has not changed perceptibly. “The Persian of the genuino type and old school hardly thinks himself in a condition to be seen until his hair and heard have been dyed and his finger nails stained, if not his lin¬ gers also. He rises at the early dawn, and repeats the usual prayer; and having drunk a cup of tea, if ho be rich enough to afford it, goes to the field or to his shop. At 10 o’clock he sits down in his place of business to eat a breakfast of bread and -soul' uiilk which has-toeen brought upon a tray and set before him. The hours of midday, in summer, aro passed in sleep. Labor, when resumed, is continued until sunset. Tho principal meal of the day—and the best lie can afford—of meat, rice and savory dishes, is partaken of in company with thc mem hers of his family, and after nightfall, and in the open court of tlie house, or upon the reof. If inclined to drink wine and nrak, thc most approved custom is to indulge at this hour. Ho satiates his thirst, if that be possible, by drunkenness, having first taken the precaution of lock¬ ing the doors and going to bed.”— Cin¬ cinnati Commercial. Hindoo Crnflsmen. Tho supple, delicate lingers of the craftsmen are as remarkable ns those of the Japanese, although their hands are much larger; but one thing must very forcibly strike the visitor who watches these clever workmen and who observes the primitivencss of their appliances— tho sad fact that the march of civiliza¬ tion has deprived 11 s western nations of the use of our toes. To be able to use four hands instead of two in art work must obviously ba an enormous advan¬ tage, and tho long, prehensile toe of thc Hindoo craftsman is even more remarka¬ ble than that of his Japanese brother. To see the ivory-worker turning his lathe with his upper hands, while he guides it and holds the ivory in his lower ones, is quite an education in possibilities of de¬ velopment of what to 11 s are really almost rudimentary organs—daily, in fact, be¬ coming more so under tho operation of the fashionable bootmaker. •' A Desperate Movo. “John,” she said to tho young man who had been courting her for five long years; “John, I sat for my one?” photograph to-day. I suppose yon want “Oh, yes, indeed.” “By the svay; John, I had them taken especially for some friends in California, and they want my authograph on the cards. Now, John,I don’t know wheth¬ er to sign my maiden name, or wait a fesv months until after I am mar ried. I suppose you do intend to get married in a few months; don’t you, John.” It was a desperate move, but she won, and in two months both will be made one .—Philadelphia Ilerald. Words Versus Figures. lie was looking for a rich wife and thought he was on the trail. “I love yon,” he said to her in rich, warm tones, “more than I can tell you in words.” “You’d better try figures,” she replied coldly, for she was not so groen as she looked.— Washington. Critic. T 1 [Jp TI/TT V" 1\|T TOT/'O A T 4 ' * _ How the Little Animal is Trapped by Night. The Muskrat's Haunts and Habits, and Use to Which His Skin is Put. j Many a young lady who moves around *n the pround possession 1 of a presumed sealskin . . . mult _ . grievously . cap or is very mistaken. The articles in question, in nine cases out of ten, never saw Alaska . ( form. New XT Jersey x , Maryland r i i m any or furnishcd the raatcrial t0 raako thera , for the .. hide of the despised and , , humble n ^ ‘ muskrat, - , when , dressed , , by , skillful . ..... . hands, v , makes the ,/ , best ...... imitation of t sealskins, ... an imitation 80 c , that the true is only d frQm th<) fabo after thc most careful - , examination. . .. T It . . equally .. is an egregious . to . . • ,, that A the New “ error imagine Jersey T fisherman « i , becomes dormant in winter . . time. .. ^ On the .. , lie contrary, , is wideawake , and . occupies . .... Ins time trap ‘ * ■ muskrats, , , Tlic Salt marshes . the ping on line of thc Jersey coast are full of niusk rats, and the supply seems to be ine.x haustablc. Muskrats aro naturally herb¬ ivorous. They feed on land and water plants alike, in some instances using roots, stems and fruit. They are noted onemics of the “bottom ground” farmer, for it is in his fields that corn grows most plentiful, and on that cereal muskrats love to feed. They cat corn at any time After it is planted, taking the seed from tlie ground or the young plant from the furrow. The greatest damage is done after the ear is well formed. Their food is not entirely vegetable, for in winter and early spring they subsist to a great extent on tlie flesh of river mussels. The muskrat docs not come out of his lair in the daytime, save on rare occasions, Sometimes on very dark cloudy days may bo seen swimming across the pond or down the stream with his head above water. It is an ugly vicious ing animal with white claws and white teeth. He is a fair swimmer his capacity for staying under water extraordinary. His home, if tho low or pond has a high bank, is a little hol¬ jilacb uficte'r ground, five or six from the water’s edge, and the is under water. Tho hallway, after lias penetrated the bank, curves gradual¬ ly upward, and at its end, in his little subterranean chamber, thc spends his day sleeping or in food for winter. It makes the happy when he finds tho entrances these houses. When he finds ono places his trap just in the entrance. thc rat is caught ho will probably drown, ns the weight of the trap and his efforts to cscapo will tire him, and ho will sink below water. A favorite method catching the muskrat in his own house is to cut off thc top of his domicile bury the trap in tho centro of iris mossy bed.. The box trap is thc favorite for streams, as it is easily made, and eral rats aro often captured in a night. It consists of a long straight box, made with entrances at both ends enough to admit a muskrat easily. the ends are fixed gates made of wire, slanting toward tho inside of box which can be lifted up easily by rat going in but cannot be opened out¬ wardly. The box is sunk in tho of a stream and securely anchored by big stones being placed on its top. stakes are driven from thc box to side of the stream. The muskrat his way barred by the stakes, swims tlie trap, discovers ho cannot get and drowns. Thc muskrat is no If he is taken on dry ground and jaws of thc trap have caught his leg ty well -down near the toe, the rat being able to pull away will gnaw off 'eg just above where the trap holds When found alive he fights and requires many a blow on the head silence him. When there is no way of escape, he makes a dash at trapper’s log, and if he once catches hold, his sharp white teeth sink into the and his strong jaws cling to tho nate hunter with the tenacity of a dog. The great trapping grounds for muskrat, however, are along the lands of Dorchester county, Maryland, bordering Fishing Bay and its tributaries, especially tho Blackwater Nausquakin rivers. These marshes brace portions of Lakes, Straits, bridge and Bucktown districts, nud area cover thousands of acres. The of the muskrat, which is of two kinds, brown and black, the black being most valuable, is sold to traveling ers for twelve to eighteen cents per About 75,000 skins have been sold Dorchester county this seasons, and trappers are still busy. But no can hope to embark in thc ping business for it is ono of and exposure, and the returns are indeed .—New York Mail and Express. Jewelry of all kinds is much worn. Vol. VI. New Series. NO. 27. Bam Fighting In the Orient. The Persians have their own peculiar pastimes, and that some of them cotro spond very nearly with our own. Stroll¬ ing down towards the Shah Abbas bazaar in Teheran the same evening aftet talking with Mr. 15 -, my attention is attracted by a small crowd of Telicrains of the lower and commercial clnas con gregated in an alley-way, writes Thomas Stevens in Outing. From the excitement and tho dull thud of objects striking against each other, it is apparent that rival owners of fighting rams are permit ting their champions to struggle for tho mastery. These little contests around quiet cor ners arc of almost hourly occurrence, and stroll , „ of , fifteen minutes . . about , , tluf ,, a streets of the Persian capital is impossi¬ ble without encountering mild-cycd “sports” leading their pet rams tenderly along by a string. Tho necks of tho rams are encased in broad leathern col lars, gaily ornamented with beads and cowries, and from which aro suspended amulets to ward off the evil eye, and a clear-toned bell. This bell, dangling from the collar and jingling merrily as lie -walks along, announces the approach of a fighting ram and his owner or atten dant. Sometimes one meets a proccs sion of several, each ono in charge of a separate attendant; these engage in a regular tournament for the entertainment of his guests. The fighting rams of Teheran are of thc big-tailed variety, Tlie breed ia gentleness impersonated, and their con¬ tests aro comparatively tame perform ances. Tho owners bet freely on the prowess of their respective champions, wagering anything from a dinner of ba zaar-kabobs to a stake of several tomans; and plenty of Teherani sports entirely upon their ram for a living. Har¬ assed with no hair-splitting niceties nor worrying definitions between and professionalism, I 10 sallies forth fights his ram for the wager of a fast for himself and a feed of barley lii3 pet. Liko kniglit-crrnnts of old, thc sian sport and his fighting ram the streets, seeking battle everywhere, winning a few kernns to-day and them again to-morrow; true soldiers fortune these, often having to battle their breakfast before eating it. of tho smaller merchants own rams, keeping them tied up in front of their shop. When business gets dull, they send challenges to rival merchants, and fights take place daily, sometimes purely for amusement and sometimes for a wager. Small Arts. It is quite wonderful to think how strangely forgotten and lost tho small arts are in England. In some countries tlie very children can carve in wood, in others they can make artistic pottery; m Egypt they embroider, inlay, and work in jewelry; lmt in this country our peo¬ ple can do nothing, and have learned nothing outside their trade. The agri¬ cultural laborer, it is true, possesses a very considerable and varied amount of knowledge—he is skilled in many ways; hut the mechanic, the factory hand, tho shopman, knows nothing and can do nothing outside his trade, and, which is worse, he considers every kind of handi¬ work as a trade in itself, to learn which would be learning another craft, after taking all the trouble in tho world to ac¬ quire one. Shall ho who has learned to make shoes also learn to make cabinets? And shall the goldsmith also become a stone¬ cutter? And is the evening as well as tho solid day to ho given up to labor? And is it right to invade another man’s trade territory ?—Art Journal. Not High Enough for Tlint. “Oh, papa,” exclaimed a little boy pas¬ senger with his face to the window, “wliat » great high hill that is!” “Yes, my son, said the man, with a weary look in his face and crape on his hat, “it is very high. That is a moun¬ tain, Arthur.” “Shall we get off the cars and go anti climb up the high mountain, papa?” “Oh. no; why should we do that, Ar¬ thur?” “’Cause, pa, I didn’t know but maybe we might climb to the top and then look up and see mamma. Do you think wc could ?”—Chicago Herald. He Wanted a Remnant. “I understand you aro offering somo remnants for sale,” said an Arlcansaw man to a dry goods clerk. “Yes, sir, wc have some choice nants, which we are offering cheap.” “Wal, I want a remnant for my “For your dog?” “Yas, you see, some feller’s cut dog’s tail off, an’ I thought off yer had remnant of a yaller bull dog I mout Apiece ’at'd lit.”— Goodall's Sun, Tito flight Side of the $. lived sixty yearn in this frisky old world, An’ seen lots of changin’ and turnin’, An’ fifty of thorn, by the sweat of my brow, My bread au’ my butter boon earnin’, An’ I’vo learned many things in the way of hard facts, I never was any great scholar, An’ here’s ono for you. Whatever you do Young man—an’ young woman, I'm warnin’ you, too— Keep on the right sido of tho dollar. No matter how much you may want this or that, If yon can’t spare the money to buy it, Don’t run into debt, or you’ll quickly regret That you ever were tempted to try it. Though your clothes may bo white at the seams, and you find Rough edges on cuffs an’ on co.lsir, Jest wait to get . now .... till .. tho samo you can do, Young man—an’young woman, I’m warnin’ you too— An’ keep on the right sido of tho dollar. Oh, tho strifes an' the troubles that would bo, like weeds, Cut down in their postilent growin’, Au’ tho blessing’s, like tho beautiful tlow'rs, that folks In their stead would be constantly so win’1 Oh, tho homes au' the livos that wouldn’t be lost, if all this plain precept would toiler That I lay down to you! Whatever you do, Young man—au’ young woman, I’m warnin’ you, too— Keep on the right side of the dollar. —Harper's Bazar. HUMOROUS. All flesh isn’t grass, because dog meat is often Indian meal. Thc dentists are said to bo pulling through these hard timos. “What is the latest?” was asked of a wit. “Twelve p. m.,” was tho curt re ply. Tho queen of Scrvia understands how to sow on buttons, and she isn’t a bache¬ lor, either. As a general thing, when schoolboys go on strike the urbane professor comes in with the last lick. A collector of curiosities wants to get the original brush with which the signs of the times were paint cd. Little boy—Pa, why does tho world move? Pa (thinking of sometliiug else)— Because it finds it cheaper than to pay rent. An exchange says: “3Ionopolies ara reaching out further with alarming ra¬ pidity.” Tho samo may be said of bustles. “Do make yourselves at home,ladies,’’’ said Sirs. Smith to her visitors; “I am at home myself, and sincerely wish you all were.” A gushing correspondent says of a lit¬ erary celebrity that “his conversation is full of light.” Poor fellow 1 ho must bo lantern-jawed. Andrew Lang’s novel, “Tho Mark of Cain,” has just been published. It is supposed tlie hero was struck with a walking-stick. A new English dictionary is coming out with 24,000 words. People who aro ever bent on having the last word should subscribe at once. According to an car witness, tho Bos¬ ton girl doesn’t say, “Let’s skip tho gutter.” She remarks, “Lot us sud¬ denly overleap the marginal depression of tho public thoroughfare.” Base Balls. A fair estimate of thc number of balls made for tho present season is said to ba 5,000,000, or one for every ten of the pop¬ ulation of the entire country. Tho hard unyielding base balls that are now used by professional ballplayers aro very dif¬ ferent articles from those which were ia vogue a quarter of a century ago. In fact they differ as greatly as the present game of base hall docs from that which was played in those days. “Dead” or professional base balls arc made entirely by hand. According to rules laid down by the league they must weigh within five and a quarter ounces. A little rub¬ ber ball, weighing two ounces, is used os the foundation for two ounces of troolen yarn that is wound around the ball, and permits of it coming within tho regula¬ tion size, weight and shape. The limit in sizo is nine inches in circumference. The yarn used makes the circumference of the ball considerably more than this, but it is corrected by undergoing a hammering process, after which the little spheres are turned over to the coverers, who invest them with a casing of horse hide, sewn with linen thread. Non-pro¬ fessional balls aro made by machinery. To show the difference in the speed, care and cost of manufacture of base balls it may be stated that a certain factory near New York can turn out 48,000 machine made balls in a day, while the limit of manufacture for “dead” balls in the same time is eighteen.”—JViwc York Ma# and Express,
