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NORTH GEORGIA TIMES
VII. New Series.
Going Home.
Xia me who j my spirit flies;
I*t the beauty of your eyes
Beam along the wave) ot death
While I draw my parting breath,
And am borne to yonder shore
Where the billows beat no more,
1 And the notes of endless spring
Through the groves immortal ring
I going home to-night.
Out of b.indness into sight
but of r eakness, war and pain,
Into power, peace and gain.
Out of winter gale and gloom
Into summer breath and bloom.
From the wanderings of the past,
I am going home at last.
Kiss my lips and let we go;
Nearer swells the solemn flow
Of the wondrous stream that rolls
By the borderland of souls;
I can catch sweet strains of songs
Floating down from distant throngs.
And can feel the touch of hands
Reaching out from angel bands.
Anger’s frown and Envy’s thrust.
Friendship killed by cold Distrust,
Sleepless night and weary morn,
Toil in fruitless land forlorn,
Aching head and breaking heart,
Love destroyed by Slander’s dart,
Drifting ship and darkened sea,
Over there will righted be.
-Jams C. Clark.
BEN'S "NOSTALGIA,"
BY MRS. M. L. RATHE.
Farmer Con no ver strode into the house,
took off his fur cap and thick mittens,
and unwound numerous links of red
woolen comforter from his ample throat.
Then he sat down by the warm wood
fire and said to his wife:
“Seems like I had somethin’ to tell
you, Bairy Ann, but I can’t for the life
of me just remember it neow."
“Was it somebody got married?" in¬
quired Mrs. Connover, who was bustling
about setting the tablo for supper.
, “No, didn’t seem as ’twas. Lemme
think,” and he pressed a meditative fore¬
finger on that portion of his forehead
where he seemed to locate the faculty of
memory.
“Is anybody dead that you are ac
quaintod with?”
“No, no, tain’t cyether marryin’ or
dyin’ as I kin see. Curas how I do for¬
get things sometimes,”
‘•We ain’t heard from Ben for quite
awhile,” suggested Mrs. Conover.
“That’s it,” cried the farmer, jumping
to his feet as sprightly as a log. “Tain’t
from Ben, leastwise it ain’t his hand
writen’, but it’s a letter. I’ve got it
right here in my pocket.”
“Do tell,” said his wife, dropping the
dishes she was holding in a promiscu¬
ous heap. “If it ain’t from Ben, who is
it from?”
“It’s writ to you,” said her husband
producing it at last.
Mrs, Conover reached up to tho ciock
shclf and took down her Bible-reading
spectacles.
“It’s a strange hand to me,” she said,
scanning it carefully, “must be some of
Cicely’s folks.”
So she stepped to tho door leading
above stairs and called at the top of her
voice:
“C-i-c-e-l-y! C—i-c-o-1—y!”
‘‘Here I am, mother,” answerd a
sweet voice. “What is it?"
For every inflection of her good
mother’s voice was familiar to her, and
this one bristled with exclamation
points.
“Here is a letter, in a strange hand
write. Do you know who it is from?’’
handing it to her.
“Why, it is addressed to you, mother.
It seems to me the easiest way to find
out would be just to open it and read
it.”
"Well, then do,” said her mother.
“I’m so fidgeted thinking about Ben
off there alone that 1 can’t open it.”
“This isn’t anything about Ben,"
said Cicely, deftly opening the envelope
after she had admired the smart college
style superscription. “It’s from somo
lawyer or fruit-tree agent, likely, on
business.”
“What would he write to your
mother for?” suggested Father Conno¬
ver gruffly.
Cicely read it over to herself first, and
at once changed color.
“It is about Ben, mother,” she said
the tears rushing into her eyes and her
voice, “he is sick, and this is from tho
doctor who is taking care of him. Oh,
mother, don’t cry, Ben needs you. Keep
up your strength.”
“Wbat ails him!” asked his father jn
an unsteady tone.
Cicely read the doctor’s letter.
He said that Ben was his patient, and
he was doing all he could for him, but
his parents had better come, as it re¬
quired more skill than he—the physician
—had to cure him. He ended by saying
that the boy was suffering from a severe
attack of nostalgia.
“What in the world is that? I never
heard of it before," exclaimed Mr. Oon
nover.
SPRING PLACE. GEORGIA, THURSDAY. MAY 12, 1887.
"What is it. CicelyT’ asked Mrs. Oon
nover. Cicely was a graduate of the
Normal school, and her parents expected
her to know everything.
She shook her head.
“It means that we must go to Ben
just as soon as we can. If there had
been any hope the doctor would have
said so.”
She cried and worked at the same
time. Ben, her only brother, was her
idol. She had opposed his going away
from first to last, but the father was
wiser.
“If the boy ain’t oontented here, let
him go to the city, and clerk it for n
year or two. He’s king of two hands
anywhere," said the gruff old farmer.
And Ben had been ill, and too proud
to let them know.
They took the evening train. At the
depot some of their friends had gathered
to hear the news.
Of each and all, they asked the same
question.
Have you ever heard of Nastalgy?”
And cone of them had ever heard of
it, but all agreed that it must be a
dreadful thing to have such a difficult
name.
When they reached the city they
had cried and worried themselves
sick.
At least the two women had. The
father, with the stoicism of his kind,
had boat a constant tatoo on the car
window and whistled an accom
paniment—all the time he was crying in
his heart.
"Oh, Absalom, my son! my son I”
There was no one to meet them, as no
one was interested in their coming ex¬
cept Ben and the doctor, and they
neither of them had heard of their in
intentions. '
So they went at once to the placo
where Ben boarded, a dreary house,
with innumerable small, ill-ventilated
rooms, where for the entire sum that he
earned weekly Ben Connover was per¬
mitted to lodge. ^ ;
Thq doctor had made his hospital
rounds that night, nnd his last call was
on Ben. He was a young physician, and
very zealous over his patients. Ho took
an interest in tho ’ handsome, whole
souled country boy who was unac
customed to close rooms and sewer gas
and lonely hours, and so wrote that let¬
ter to his mother.
And os they stood on the step ringing
the grumbling bell be walked up and
soon discovered who they were, and
made himself known.
“Oh, Doctor, is there any hope?
“Doctor, will my boy get well?
“Doctor, ds he still alive?”
These were the questions that were
poured into the doctor’s ears.
How very unfeeling of him to laugbl
"Why, there i? nothing in the world
tho matter with him 1 As I wrote you
it’s only a bad case of nostalgia.”
“Doctor!” said the father sternly,
“put that ’ere word in jilain English!”
“Oh, I see,” luughed the doctor. “It
is the medical term for homesickness."
And that was all that ailed tho boy.
A good deal of mental longing and
worry had brought on fever, and Ben
was fast becoming really ill, but the
sympathetic young doctor had diaguosod
his case correctly. He was a soldier who
was not sick from any fatal malady. He
was homesick.
"Now that we’re here we’ll stay and
see the sights, Sarah Ann," Mr. Conno¬
ver said to his wife, “and you can coddle
Ben all you want to.”
And Ben was very willing to be cod
died. But it was strange that after
explaining that big medical word, the
doctor still kept coming, It worried
the old couple a little, becauso they
thought all. Ben must be in danger aftet
But it was the doctor who was in
danger now. Ho had transferred his
interest in the brother to the sister. And
no word was big enough to diagnose his
case.
Butit all came out right. Only Ben
must have tonics and directions, and at
last the doctor went out there and
established a practice, leaving out tho
Latin words.
And he was right. There is no more
insidious disease than homesickmss.
When the Swiss soldiers, the bravest
fighters in the world, hear the familiar
Ranz des baches they lean on their car¬
bines and weep for their loved glaciers
and mountain pines, and often die of
that hidden wound of the heart—whose
classical name is nostalgia, and which
freely translated means sickness for
home.—[Detroit Free Press.
Not Youug Enough.
Customer (to restaurant man) — “B ly 1”
Restaurant man—“Don’t call me boy,
sir! I’m no bo/, sir, and I won’t be
called boy, sir, by nobody, sir.’’
Customer—"Then do ns von’d be
done by, and don’t call this old mutton
‘lamb’ any morel”—[Texas.
MYSTERIES OF PARIS,
Dark and Dangerous Resorts
of the French Metropolis.
Vaults and Cellars Where Murderers
and Thieves Congregate.
On leaving the Chat Noir the other
night some one proposed that we should
visit the cellars near the Central mar¬
ket”, writes a Paris correspondent of the
New York Sun. In the Faubourg du
Temple, at La Chapclle, and in the
neighborhood of the Place Maubert
these cellars or vau ts below grog shops
are famous as tho resort of thieves and
bad characters. They ar among the
sights of criminal Paris which the stran¬
ger raroly visits, however much his
curiosity may have been awakened by
the descriptions given by Eugene Sue
in his “Mysteries of Paris." Bo
we made up a party of three, and be¬
tween 1 and 2 in the morning we ar¬
rived at the Central markets. We left
them to their dreams, and descended by
a narrow staircase into a series of vaults,
the whitewashed ceilings of which were
covered with arabesques and names
written in black with tho smoke of a
candle. In one part of these vaults a
group of men were drinking and singing
parodies of church hymns.
This did not come up to our * expecta¬
tions, so we went to “La Jeune France,”
a famous cellar where a man had been
assassinated only a few nights before.
We passed through a gate, down one
flight of narrow stairs, then stooping
low we passed under an archway re¬
served in the foundations of the house,
down another flight of stairs, then
through another archway, along a tor¬
tuous passage, and so to a tunnel about
seven feet high, five feet broad, and
twenty feet long. The vault of the roof
was covered with green trelliswork,
there were benches and rush stools to
sit upon; Wooden tables bearing the
marks of strife; and to liglit us, two
gas-jets. We were here at the very end
of the mousotrap, and wo now under¬
stood why the police never enter these
“cavcaux”—there is no possibility of a
fair fight. When we entered the ‘.‘ca
veau" there was’ nobody there, but
after we bad ordered some wine two
musicians came in. The one was a
miserable pale fellow, half starved and
half blind, with a thin blonde mous¬
tache. He sang and accompanied him¬
self by striking a few chords on a guitar.
The other was a short, bony man, with a
black beard, drunken blue eyes, round
shoulders, and an appearance of humili¬
ty, as if he were constantly afraid of re¬
ceiving a kick. He sang in turn, strum¬
ming on a single bnss chord. The tip
given by some watcher soon brought
four other visitors—a burly ruffian, who
wore a huge red fez rising eighteen
inches above his crown, a young man
wearing a thin cotton blouse, and two
others dressed in cast off clothes of
fashionable cut, without a vestige
of linen. The humble musician sang,
above all things, an air from “Mignon,”
keeping bis eyes fixed on the ground as
he sang, and pointing to his heart with
an awkward gesture whenever the word
“heart" occurrod in the romance. Sud¬
denly one after another half a dozen
athletic, square shouldered men, vary¬
ing in age from seventeen to twenty-five,
crept through the narrow archway, pass¬
ing rapidly in without even glancing at
our table, and massed themselves at the
end of the vault, lolling on the benches^
smoking cigarettes, and drinking at our
expense, for we thonght it only polite
to offer these gentlemen a glass of wtne,
the more so as the musicians were play¬
ing for our amusement. After “Mignon”
the ruffian with the rod fez asked for
the guitar, took a tuning fork out of
his pocket, snapped it with his teeth,
and tuned the instrument properly. Then
the ruffian in tbe cotton blouse rose and
with fine voice, perfect sentiment and
correct gestures, sang other airs from
“Mignon,” and also from “Carmen.”
All the ruffians listened in perfect
silence to tbe singer, who was a real
artist, and two women who had joined
the band melted into tears at tbe end,
one of them exclaiming: “Ah, music!
When I hear ‘Mignon’ I can’t help it.
I cry like a calf.” The scene appeared
to be idyllic rather than brigandish and
terrible. Howevever, it appeared after
ail that we might have beea in better
company, for at a sign from the waiter
I slipped oat of the vault. ‘You had
better give the word to your friend to
come up stairs. The band is almost
au complet, and it is the very band that
assassinated a man here last week. If
their chief happens to come in you might
get in trouble.” We did not wait to h<
warned twice, but wished the gentlemer
good evening, ascended the staircasi
without undue precipitation, and ye«
j
-
with a kind of internal sensation of
rapidity.
After leaving “La Jeune France" we
visited three or four loss interesting es¬
tablishments. It was the samo spectacle
in each of them. Nothing at all like tho
descriptions given by Eugene Sue, and
the narratives of other explorers of
Paris. Calvator Rosa’s brigands are as
unreal and conventional as his stormy
landscapes.
The Dangerous Flat Wheel.
As a train was pulling out of the
West Side Union Station in Chicago a
passenger sat still a moment as if listen¬
ing to something and then rose from his
se^f W* ■ulvelling picked up his luggage, and asked
companion to go with him
inW? the first car ahead.
“But we have just got comfortably
seated here,” replied the other; “why
should for we make a change? Car too hot
you?”
“No, the temperature is all right."
“Too cold, mobbo?"
‘$To, it’s not too cold."
“Then what is the matter! Why
should we go into the front car?"
“Well, Til tell you. You know I
used to be a railroad man, a conductor,
andj, tjie of course, I picked up some ideas
on road that a man gets only from
experience. As soon as the train started
myfcare told me there was a flat wheel
un6^r ping this the car. rails? Don’t you hear it rap¬
on Wait till the train
yon'il slo*^ up for the first stop, and then
hear it—running too fast now.
Yes, sir, ear wheels flatten out and have
to be closely watched. Some imperfec¬
tion or unevenness in the iron, or some
extraordinary blow on a rsAj or obstruc-.
tion, makes an impression on the surface
of the wheel, and then every revolution
thereafter adds to the injury. A wheel
wiR flatten out in a remarkably short
tinSfc, flat and on long runs of through trains
a wheel is a source of danger. If
this wheel runs from here to New York,
ana thyiphancea Happens to be a pretty so-t wheel,
are that.it will arrive there
in ai,very bad condition, after doing as
muc^t Will damage in to the track as tho com
paoa get passenger money from
trf thth ckh Of course,
there’s not much danger; but I make it a
rule never to ride in a car that has a flat
wheel under it, nnd if you don't mind
we’ll go up ahead.”—[Chicago Herald.
A Farmer Saved by a Dog.
From the town of Castclnaudary,
France, writes a Paris correspondent,
comes a story that Is literally true, yet
which reads like the invention of a sen¬
sational novelist. A farmer residing in
tho onvirons of that town, and who was
known to have saved money, returned
home one evening, accompanied by his
dog, a large, powerful and very intelli¬
gent animal. On reaching tho house the
dog at once darted to tho farmer’s bed¬
room, as if in search of something, and
dashed under the bed. A short struggle
ensued, and the dog then emerged drag¬
ging the corpse of a man that he had
found hidden under the bed, and whom
he had seized by the throat and instantly
strangled. The farmer’s wife recognized
the dead man as a tramp to whom she had
that morning given food and drink, and
who had then, as she thought, gone on
his way. Her husband at once went in
search of the police, who, on arriving,
thoroughly examined the body. Con¬
cealed in the clothes were found a long
sharp knife, a loaded revolver, and a
whistle. The policemen then hid them¬
selves, and one of their number blew the
whittle. Four men obeyed tho signal
and entered the house, and were im
mediately captured. Thanks to the dog,
the lives of the farmer and his wife had
been saved, for one of the miscreants con¬
fessed that their comrade was to have
murdered them both, and that they them¬
selves were thon to have aided in strip¬
ping the house of its contents and in
carrying them away.
Their Names In the Paper*.
“Time after time have I heard
that old chestnut ‘Don’t put my name
ia the papers,’ ” said a reporter the other
day, and “on experience I had of another
kind was refreshing. I was reporting a
large meeting of an association, and
seeing a lady with whom I was ac¬
quainted and who was a leading mem¬
ber of the association, I approached
her and asked if she would give me the
names of a few of the most prominent
persons on the stage. She scanned the
group thereon seated, and replied
quickly< There’s pal’ and I put his
name down. It reminds me of another
incident. I was reporting a struggle
over a will, and I asked one of the con¬
testants her name. She replied, ‘Don’t
put my name in the paper, please. My
name Is Mary Ann Smith; but if you’d
put It in, do you think it will get in all
the papers? 1 she added, sweetly.” -Phil¬
adelphia Call.
SL’IENflFIC SCRAPS.
Spectroscopic observations give a dif¬
ferent composition for variable stars at
different period”, thus indicating that
the variability results from the combus¬
tion of different substances.
During 1886 eleven new asteroids
were detected, increasing the number
known to 264. Of this total 67 linve
been discovcd by Dr. J. Palisn of Vi¬
enna, and 48 by Dr. Peters of Clinton,
N. Y.
Out of fifteen thousand earthquakes
observed on coast lines, the German s >is
motogist, Kluge, found that only 'Hit
hundred and twenty-four were accom¬
panied by sea waves, although a very
large proportion of tho shocks had piob
ably originated under the sea.
A decidedly “big" mining scheme is
about to be launched in California. It
is no less than a twelve-mile tunnel for
draining tho entire ground of mines in
Nevado City and Grand Valley. The
water power of the Yuba river will bo
used to drivtlhe drills and propel the
cars. The tunnel, where it enters the
mines, will be 1200 below the surface.
As a Teat of engineering the tunnels of
tho 8t. Gothard and Mont Cunis have
been surpassed by a tunnel near Schem
nitz, in Hungary. It is 10 1-4 miles
long, about 10 feet high, and 6 broad.
It has taken nearly a century to com¬
plete, and cost $5,000,000, and its pur¬
pose is to carry off the water from the
mines. This work has suffered long in¬
tervals of stoppage, once for thirty and
again for twenty years, and is estimated
to effect an annual saving of $90,000.
A practical railway mechanic says it
may as well be known, first and last, that
no locomotive can make steam to draw
and heat the cars at tiio same time. The
constant worry of an engineer is the fear
of being unable to draw his train up
grades, because of the liability of his
steam running low. No steam can be
spared from the engines, and if the cars
must have steam heat—by popular de¬
mand or legislative enactment—the only
way to do is to run a special furnace-car
on every passenger train.
. A communication to the London Me
teorological'Soiciety,' by Capt. ToynJ.i,
states as his conclusion that clou Is of
not less than 2000 feet in thickness are
seldom accompanied by rain, or, if they
a re, it is very gentle, consisting of minute
drops; with a thickness of between 2000
and 4000 feet, tho size of tho drops is
moderate; with increasing thickness of
the clouds comes an increasing size of
the drops, and at the same time tbe de¬
gree of temperature becomes lowered.
When the thickness amounts to moro
than 6000 feet, hail is produced.
Apache Children.
A prominent fenture in any Apache
village are tho children, who are un¬
kempt little savages, but ste much hand¬
somer in childhood than in mature life.
The care of the male children devolves
upon the man, who carefully educates
them to emulation and practice in deeds
of blood, including the art of scientific
torturing. So welt are these lessons
taught that the Apache boy, at an early
age, is ambitious and fitted to go on tbe
warpath. Some of the most daring
deeds in Apache warfare have been per¬
formed by boys who were emulous to
earn their title to manhood.
The girl is taught the rude domestic
arts and lessons of labor, but ber educa
tion in barbarity is not a whit less
thorough than that of the boy. The
education of the Apache girl begins with
her care of the younger children. She
learns to carry water and to go forth to
bunt roots, wild fruits and bcrr.es
worms and reptiles, and whatever else
goes to make up the Apache cuisine.
She is taught to prepare for eating the
game or domestic animals used for food,
brought in by the warriors from tfcoir
excursions. Much of this animal food
being common property, she learns to
make a vigorous fight to secure for her
own household the entrails, which arc
the greatest luxury to the Apache. She
subsists largely upon such odds and
ends as she can get by stealth or after
others have been satisfied, as the special
household care is the providing for the
wants of the warriors aDd boys. Under
such an education she grows up strong,
tough and fleet-footed, accustomed to
every effort of endurance, privation and
hardship of Indian life.
The Labor Question.
Young Political Economist—Do you
know, George, I have been studying
the labor question a great deal of
late!
George-—That so? Going to work?
It takes the first thirty years of a
young man’s life to find out that it
isn’t the Uan with tbe shiniest hat who
draws the biggest check. —Philadel¬
phia Call.
NO. 14.
The I’earl of Peace.
A l ivalve fie ling in the warm salt sea
Draws inward with the wars a sawdy
graii),
Which, not returning with the ware
again,
Remains henceforth its secret grief to ba
Day after day. the sea-wise folk agree,
The creature hides it in a dew-like rain
Of ceaseiees tears, till, hardened out of
pain,
A precious p^orl is fashioned perfectly.
From outer seas pf passion, seas of st-ife,
Tlure drifts at times upon the human
heart
A sr-cret rankling grief that day by day
We rover with the bitter tears of life,
Till wrought of pain, from out oar nobler
part
The pearl of peace remains with us always
—[W. W. Martin.
HUMOROUS.
“Excuse me for living" is the latest
form of apology.
The Chinese of California are the
queue-cumbers of the soil.
They don’t build large buildings in
Chicago any more. They simply “erect
commodious structures.”
Tho Cardiff giant is stored away in a
garret of a house in Texas. He has been
at last pronounced stone dead.
“What’s in n name ?’’ an exchange in¬
quires. That depends. In Welsh names
there are principally consonants and y’g.
In murder cases wh re there is danger
of hanging the prisoner the de¬
fense makes every eff jrt to hong tho
jury*
“I have a theory about the dead lan¬
guages,” remarked a freshman. “I
think they were killed by being studied
too hard.”
It is stated that a powder company in
New York has stopped business, but it is
nothing new to hear of a powder mill
“going up."
Ending of a boy's letter trom board¬
ing-school: “I can’t writo any more,
for my feet are so cold that I can’t bold
a pen. You affectionate son, Tommy.”
When a man boasts that he moves in
the best of society, it may not be im¬
pertinent to suggest that it is probably
because) he is not permitted to stay ij - 'L
“What is more surprising than a sao\\
storm in July ?" asks a St. Paul corre¬
spondent. We couldn’t exactly say un¬
less it should be two snow storms in
July.
“I have such an indulgent husband,”
laid little Mrs. Doll. “Ye?, so George
rays,” responded Mrs. Spiteful, quietly;
“sometimes ho indulges too much,
doesn’t he?" They no longer speak to
each other.
A Boston man has invented a never
slip wrench which is said to be a great
success. Now if he would set his brains
to work and invent a never-slip sido
walk, all humanity would rise up and
call him blessed.
Professor Boss of Albany says: ’The
star Alpha Cygui is moving aloDg at the
rate of 50 miles a second.” Wc are glad
to see the nineteenth ceutuiy has pro¬
duced something that can keep pace
wi;h a sewing circle.
“What is a phenomenal pitcher!”
asks a base ball enthusiast. Judging
from the announcements made by the
rival base ball manngers all pitchers are
phenomenal ones excepting thoso be¬
longing to some other manager’s club.
A correspondent thinks that there is
something in the American air that
inclines people to chew. Men chew to¬
bacco and women chew gum. It is
probably because America is a free
country, where people do pretty much
as they chews.
Microscopic Possibilities.
Perhaps the most wonderful thing that
lias been discovered of late is the new
glass which has just been made in
Sweden, differing from ordinary glass in
its extraordinary refractive power. Our
common glass contains only six sub¬
stances, while the Swedish glass consists
of fourteen, the most important elements
being phosphorus and boron, which are
not found in any other glass, The
revolution which this new refractor is
destined to make is almost inconceiv
ab e, if it is true, as is positively alleged,
that, while the highest power of au old
fashioned microscopic lens reveals only
the one four hundred thousandth part of
an inch, this new glass will enable us to
distinguish one two hundred and four
million seven hundred thousandth part
of an inch. It makes one’s hand ache
to write these figures; and who can tell
what worlds within worlds may not be
discovered with such an instrument as
this? Magnified after this fashion, the
smallest animalcule will be converted
into a giant, and if the same refracting
power can be applied to t.ie telephone
we shall have the moon brought to oar
very doors.—[Something to Read.]
