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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,
