Newspaper Page Text
NORTH GEORGIA TIMES.
Vol. VIII, New Series.
Home is Home.
Th# snowflakes press upon the pane,
Where once was heard the pattering rain,
And ail the twigs are clothed in white,
Like babes of Nature for the night.
But what care I for winter storms,
And frosty cold in countless forms? ‘
For home is home, no matter where,
If love and hope are centered there.
The ohilling winds of winter blow
Where fern and daisy used to grow
The crimson flush of sunset dies,
And Nature in her cavern lies.
The winds may blow and snowflakes fall,
While clouds and darknoss cover all:
Bu$ flowers will bud, and birds will sing,
When winter weds the blushing spring.
—[K. Bolton in Good Housekeeping.
THE YOUNGEST SISTEK.
£•> BY HELEN FORREST GRAVES.
“I don’t know how it is,” groaned
Kate Blessington, “but in our family
always happen cross-grained.”
“What’s the matter now?” said
Georgia, the eldest sister, who, with a
blue apron of checked domestic ging¬
ham tied around her waist, and her
luxuriant flaxen hair confined in a red
bandanna pocket-handkerchief, was
cooking tomatoes for ketchup.
“Why, here have the Morefields
come to spend the day, and mamma has
just taken to her sofa with an attack of
heuralgia, and there’s nobody on eaith
to go to the train to meet the city board¬
er. You couldn’t go, George, I sup¬
pose?”—with a faint gleam of hope.
Georgia glanced up at tho clock, and
shook her head.
“Couldn’tpossibly,” said she. “There
isn’t time to get ready. Wiiv don’t you
send Peter?”
“Peter, indeed! He’s cleaning the
cistern out. Such a figure as ho is 1”
! ‘Then I’m sure,” observed Georgia,
“Idon’t see what you are going to do."
“Couldn’t I go, Kate?” pleaded a
small, sweet voice.
And the second Miss Blessington be¬
came conscious of some One pulling
'gently at her slcevo. Sho turned
flheTe—a <»™ uVl< L A’tali, rosy girl stood
girl just arrived at the age
Iwhere “brook and river meet,” half
’child, half woman, but infinitely pretty
in both her personalities. Sunburned,
'dark-eyed, clad in an outgrown calico
’frock, and with her hair braided into
‘one long, gold-gleaming queue behind,
she stood there, with an imploring face.
“A good ideal ’ said Georgia, tasting
of tho bubbling scarlet mass in tho ket¬
tle, and adding a trifle more rod pepper.
"Let Chrissy go!”
“But Chrissy can’t drive.”
“Oh, yes, lean!” urged Christine, the
youngest and least presentable of all the
Blessingtons. “I drove old Jenks up
from the farm yesterday with a load of
pumpkins. I’ve often driven him when
(you didn’t know it, George.”
“Oh, you horrid tom-boy 1" said
Georgia, half-laughing.
But Kate gave litttlc Chrissy a sound
box on the ear. Her black eyes flashed
wrathfully.
“Christine,” said she, “I’m ashamed
■of you! You’re a disgrace to tho family.
Don’t howl now 1” (as Chrissy rubbing
her empurpled ear, broke into an indig¬
nant wail). “The Morefields will hear
-you. Go quick—get on your hat; and
mind you don’t show yourself at the tea
table. Your new frock isn’t finished,
and your old one isn’t half decent; and
besides, you’ll be needed in the kitchen
to wash dishes.”
The tears dried on Chrissy’s eyelashes
at the prospect of driving old Jenks to
the depot all by herself.
She made haste to pull a white
worsted polo cap over her rebellious
hair, and to scramble into the rather
dilapidated buggy that was waiting at
"the door.
“Get up, Jenks!” she cried, brandish¬
ing the whip with gleeful countenance.
“Pete, Pm going to drive to the
depot 1”
“All right, miss,” said Peter, who,
fresh from the depths of the newly
emptied cistern, was holding old Jenks,
as if there was any danger of that
ancient steed running away. “Drive
keerful past Bowery Lane—he al’ays
wants to turn in there—and mind ^you
keep a tight grip o’ tho reins, if you
meet a load o’ barrels or one o’ them
janglin’ tin-peddler’s wagons."
Away clattered the venerable buggy,
old Jenks falling into a stiff trot like
an automaton hor3e, and Chrissy
fairly radiant with delight.
“But Kate oughtn’t to have boxed
ay ears,” she pondered, as the first ela¬
tion subsided. “There was nothing
wrong in driving the load of pumpkins
Home. I came by the back road, and
nobody saw me. I don’t love Kate—
nor Georgia neither. They’re always
(laughing at mo and making fun of me,
(just because I grow so fast. They won’t
SPRING PLACE. GEORGIA, THURSDAY. FEBRUARY" 23, 1888.
let me come into the room when they’ve
got company, because I’m only a child;
and they scold me for running races
with the dog, because I’m a woman. ;I
wonder if they call that consistency?
Never mind, I’ll pay ’em off yet, see if I
don’t.”
By dint of extraordinary efforts on the
part of Old Jenks, and a liberal applica¬
tion of the whip on that of his mistress,
they contrived to reach one side of the
depot building just as tho train steamed
away from the other. ,
Christine looked up and down the
platform. Most of the passengers had
already started forth in different direc¬
tions, but one man stood there, glanc¬
ing up and down the road, with a valise
in his hand, a folded newspaper protrud¬
ing from his coat-pocket.
Chrissy hesitated what to do; then
she rose to the emergency.
“Hallo!” she cried, la a sweet, high
pitched soprano voice. “Aro you the
gentleman from the city—tho new
boarder?”
lie advanced, with a rather puzzled
countenance.
“Yes," said he. i ij_«
“I’ve come to drive you to the cot¬
tage,” 'said Christine Blessington.
“Jump in, please! Where’s your trunk?
There’s room for it behind.”
“My trunk is to be sent by ex-press.
But—”
‘“Oh, very well 1” said Chrissy. “Bo
quick, please-—the liorse won’t standi”
The stranger cast an amused glanco
toward old Jenks, who certainly looked
as little like a runaway steed as could
be imagined ns ho stood tlore, meekly
balanced on three legs, with his head
hanging down.
“And who aro you?” said he, pleas¬
antly. “One of tho family?”
“Oh, I’m Chrissy—the youngest girl,
you know l” explained she.
“The youngest, eh? Are there many
of vou?”
Chrissy eyed him with a sidelong
glance.
“He’s curious about us,” thought sho.
“Well, ^complacently: that’s natural.” And sho an
swored 1
-
“Woll, there’s Georgia—she’s twenty
two. And she’s engaged to an officer in
the army, although she thinks I don’t
know it. Ami Kate is twenty, and she’s
going to set her cap for the new princi¬
pal of the school. At least she says so.
She’s tired of making over old gowns,
and dyeing old ribbon, and keeping
genteel boarders. I dou’t envy the prin¬
cipal of the school,” Chrissy added, giv¬
ing old Jenks an admonitory touch with
the whip, as ho showed an undue in¬
clination to sidle toward the entrance of
Bowery Lane. “Kate has got an awful
temper. She flow into a passion and
boxed by ears just before I started.”
“Boxed your ears!” repeated the
sti anger, repressing a strong inclination
to laugh. “Why, how old are you?”
“I’m sixteen an l a half,” said Chrissy,
almost wishing that she had not told
the incident, as tiro crimson flush rose
up to the very roots of her hair. “And
she oughtn’t to treat me like a child! I
wish she would get married and go
away. I should be a deal happier with¬
out her. Oil, oh! there comes a load of
barrels! Old Jenks is awfully afraid of
a load of barrels, llo always shies
when he sees one.”
“Let me take the reins,” suggested
her passenger.
And presently, under his charge, old
Jenks, who, to do him justice, had
evinced no particular emotion of any
sort, was engineered safely past the
feaiful object.
And then Chrissy pointed out tho
various localities to him, told him about
the ghost that was said to walk in old
Squiro Hart’s deserted house, showed
him tho place where a fox was shot in
the spring, and confided to him where
to go if he wanted to find tho finest
nutting copses of the vicinity.
And while sho was enlarging on these
subjects, old Jenks stopped sleepily at
tho front gate of the pretty Blessington
cottage.
All the Morefield heads were at tho
window—Mrs. Morefield, Jeannette
Morefield, Susanna Morefield, and tho
married Miss Morefield, whose present
name was Mrs. Josiah Stubbs.
“Bless me!” said Mrs. Stubb3, in a
stage whisper, “what a very genteel
young man.”
“It’s tho city boarder,” explained
Mrs. Blessington, between the twinges
of her neuralgia “Doctor Buffer
recommended him here for pure country
air. He’s just up from malarial fever,
and needs change, and Doctor Buffer—
dear, good man—knew how we were sit¬
uated, and that we had a nice front room
to spare."
“Humph 1” commented Mrs. More¬
field. “He doesn't look much like a
sick man.”
While Kate ran out to open tho door,
all smiles and freshly-tied pink rib¬
bons.
“Is it Mr. Dorrance?” she said. “I
am Miss Blessington”—with her most
engaging air of welcome, “Please
walk in. I hope you haven’t been very
much tired by the journey?”
“It’s Kate,” whispered Chrissy, sud¬
denly overcome by pangs of compunc¬
tion. “Don’t let her know I told you
about her temper.”
“I am afraid there is some mistake,”
said the gentleman, pausing in the very
act of taking his valise out of tho wagon.
“My name is not Dorrance. And I was
going to Mr. Falkncr’s place, where I
lmv* engaged board for Die winter. I
am John Wilder, the principal of the
Graded School."
Chrissy dropped the reins, jumped
out of tho wagon and ran to hide her¬
self in the hay mows of tho barn.
The Morefields stared harder than
cver. Kate Blessington looked in
finitely puzzled.
“Dear me!” said she; “it’*j ono of
Christine’s blunders. We were very
foolish to have trusted her. Do come
in, Mr. Wilder”—-with a still more wiu
somo smile—“and rest yourself, • and
have some tea. Wo are all anxiety to
become acquainted with our new prin¬
cipal. Pete! Pete! don’t unharness tho
horse 1 Go right hack to tho dep*>t.
Mr. Dorrance must bo waiting there
yet!”
But Mr. Wilder, with a curious ex¬
pression of the mouth and eyeh, declined
Miss Blessington’s invitation.
Ho would go immediately to Mr.
FalKner’s, ho said, if they would bo
good enough to toll him in what direc¬
tion it was.
And so ho bowed himself away.
An hour or so afterward, the depot
wagon from Smileybridge, tho next sta¬
tion above, brought Mr. Dorrance, a
withered little old man, who wore a
wig and walked with a gold-headed
cane.
“There wasn’t anyono at tho lower
depot to meet me,” said he. “And I
was told I could get a hack at Smiley¬
bridge, two miles further on; and I’m
no walker, so 1 just nteppeH back? in\u
tho train; so here I ami And I’d like
my tea at six o’clock, if you please, and
rye bread and baked apples with it.
For I haven’t got back my digostion
yet, and. tbe doctor is very particular
about my diet.”
Chrissy Blessington was very silent
and dispirited when sho mado her
appearance in tho Graduating Class of
the Graded School at the opening of tho
fall term, and sho scarcely ventured to
look at Mr. Wilder, as ho entered her
name at tho head of the list.
At recess she lingered a little, as if
there was something on her mind.
“Well?” said the principal, kindly.
“I’m so sorry that I said those foolish
things!" burst out Chrissy, with tears
sparkling in lior eyos. “That day, you
know, that I took you for the city
boarder, and drovo you to our house—
please, please forget them! Kate and
Gcorgo aro alw r ays telling me that I
shall get into mischief with my tongue
—and now I know that they aro
r-r-rightt”
And poor Chrissy broke into a sob, in
spite of all her self-control.
“My child, do not fret yourself,”
s aid Mr. Wilder. “I will remember
nothing that you would have me for¬
get 1”
At the end of the year, when the
snows lay white on the Hilltops, Mr.
Dorrance was still boarding at tho Bles¬
sington cottage, and tormenting every¬
body on the subject of his “diet.”
Georgia was getting ready for her
marriage to the army officer, Kate was
lamenting her solitary blessedness, and
Chrissy—little Chrissy, who was not yet
seventeen—was actually engaged to Mr.
Wilder, the new principal of the Graded
School.
“Though, of course,” said Mrs. Bles
sinjrton, “she can’t be married for a
year yet. Why, she is nothing but a
child 1”
“But I don’t mind waiting a little
while,” said Chrissy, to her fiancee.
“For the family all treat mo with respect
now. Kate dou’t care to box my ears
any more.”
“I should think not,” said Mr. Wil¬
der.—[Saturday Night.
Rat-Catcliing Ferrets.
Ferrets, the lithe, sharp-toothed little
animals which aro trained to hunt rats in
New York houses, get their first lessons
in vermin killing at tho age of three
months. It is their nature to hunt and
kill. Trainers consider a ferret’s first
encounter with a rat of the utmost im¬
portance as touching his future useful¬
ness, so they provide a half-grown rat
for the first fight, or pull tho teeth of an
old rat in order to give the ferret a sure
victory. If defeated, tho ferret is timid
ever afterward.—[New York Tribune.
MAIL ODDITIES.
Queer Things That Are Seen at
the New York Postoffice. •
A Museum- Filled With Articles
Confiscated By Uncle Sam.
Gn the third floor and west side of
tiic postoffice building, overlooking the
fdurt, and shut out from the noise of the
.Jtreet, I says a writer in tho N. Y.
ommercial Advertiser, is a large room,
. hieh in character partakes about
equally of junk-shop, storehouse and
museum. Over tho door is a sign bear¬
ing in plain black letters, “Inquiry Of¬
fice." Mr. Ferry Jones is the presiding
spirit.
On entering tho office through a pri¬
vate door one is confronted with the
workshop and museum proper. A talk
with Mr. Jonoi brings out some inter¬
esting information. It becomes appar¬
ent at once that the inquiry ofticc is no
place for a person with weak nerves. A
package without an address is received.
It is opened. A cotton ball is exposed
to view, which is folded layer on layer
in the most careful way. In tho centre,
between two layers saturated with alco¬
hol, is found a hideous scorpion from
from the West Indies, Live horned
toads have been received here, os also
hpve with alcohol. snakes in heavy glass jars, filled
Live turtles complete tho
list of nerve-shattering things which
the employes have to dispose
of. Dynamite, carefully packed in cot¬
ton, powder in flasks, gun implements
of all kinds, and fishing outfits are re
ceived daily. Peaceful things are, of
c % rse > plentiful. Samples of every
ktkrivn fabric to delight tho eyes of tho
pw-ssionu! shopper—cosmetics, bustles,
pK-'tsV silks and woolens, worsted
flowers, oil paintings, plans of houses,
Specimens of ore and electric apparatus.
Sadly crushed, but pretty for all that, t
Kt of edelweiss, direct from its native
Alp, awaits an owner ; crushed, tooj
Irht'Bb longer beautiful, a ladyV bonnet,
for which no doubt tho owner fumod
and fretted, but it was the bonuot that
nevet came.
Aftor the Oregon’s mail was recovered
tl» supply of shamrock and green lib
b^i in tho inquiry office would havosup
plied every son of Erin in America with
emblems of tho Emerald Islo. Fruits
are often received but thrown away at
the slightest appearance of dacay. Skins
of animals for the taxidermist and bird’s
wings for tho millinors also find their
way into the office, together with jew¬
elry, ofttimes of great value, and note 9
and coin. Shoes, clothing and hard¬
ware aro not wanting. A specimen
card of insects, containing all species
native to a certain part of Africa
and addressed to a scientist of promi¬
nence, has just now been forwarded to
the owner. A prizo pumpkin and a
complete set of dental instruments wore
reposing side by side among a heap of
papers when the reporter called, and on
a shelf directly back of the table, al¬
phabetically arranged, were newspapers
from all part3 of the world.
In the book department, books, prin¬
cipally foreign, in elegant bindings,
with dust for company, and manuscripts
and even corrected proofs—ready for
the printer—form an interesting part of
the collection. Novels in paper cover
are everywhere.
Mr. Jones says that the system used
in disposing of tho accumulated matter
was copied by every large city in the
union and inquiries regarding the work
of the department are frequent. Bince
its establishment, seven years ago, it has
grown to be a necessary part of the gi¬
gantic postal system in operation in this
city. To this office all parcels not ad¬
dressed, or from which part of tho ad"
dress had been obliterated, are sent. To
this office are sent also all improperly
packed parcels, and those which the
postal officers have reason to believe con¬
tain contraband articles. The business
of the employes in the office
is to put the addresses where
they belong, repack the par¬
cels when necessary, confiscate
tho things which have no place in the
mails, and otherwise remedy the mis¬
take caused by tho carelessness or igno¬
rance of the senders. When a parcel is
improperly packed or something is
wrong with the address, if the person
for whom it is probably intended can
be found, a circular is sent to him with
the request for the name and description
of the article. If the answer is satis¬
factory the parcel is forwarded. In
some cases the person addressed does
not know the contents of the package.
In (hat case the name of the sender is
procured from the person addressed, and
tho parcel reaches its destination. Two
men are constantly employed assorting
the mutilated addresses and one kept
busy recording articles which are await¬
ing claimants. Besides these there aje
several clerks who do nothing but fill out
the notification blanks and repack arti¬
cles for shipment.
Articles of an indestructible Miarac¬
tor aro kept three months and are then
sent to Washington. Fruits, vegetables
or skins are disposed of at short no¬
tice.
An Aged Sea Anemone.
For many years an object of nuriosity
in the Botanical Gardens at Edinburgh
has been the sea anemone, which on ac¬
count of its ago has received the nick¬
name of “Granny.” This venerablo
specimen of the curious class of crea¬
tures which belong to the very border¬
land that separates tho animal from tho
Vegetable world has just passed away at
the ago of about sixty. It was found in
1838 by Sir John Dnlzell, the well
known antiquary, among tho rocks not
very far from tho promontory known as
St. Abbs Head, upon tho coast of Ber¬
wick, and was described in one of
those two sumptuous quartos devoted by
him to “Rare and Remarkable Animals
of Scotland.” It was on tho death of
Sir John in 185-1- (bat this remarkable
specimen of tho. actinozoa passed into
tho possession of Prof. Flemming, and
hence found a permanent homo in th
beautiful gardens in which it has just
ended its honored career. “Granny"
can hardly bo reproached with gluttony
since its food was simply half a mussel
dropped regularly onco a fortnight into
tlie membraneous oesophageal tube
which does duty for a mouth.
Whether it possessed any¬
thing which could bo said to ap¬
proach to the nature of breathing ap¬
paratus is, wo believe, it point on whir
tho learned are not quite dcciied;
it ia certain that “ Graurts” iarud so
thrive on her fortnightly^nllf- -mussel
witli its accompanying draught of fresh
water. “Granny’s" album, in which
visitors have long been accustomed to
enter their names, is stated to bo en¬
riched with more than 1,000 autographs
of distinguished travellers and scientific
persons. It appeared to bo in excellent
health up to a few weeks ago, when it
was attacked with the parasite disease
which finally proved fatal. —[Christian
at Work.
Tho Tartars and Their Horses.
The Tartars have a way of living with
their animals which is truly astonishing
—they talk to them, and when they
wish to cncourago them, they wb.istlo
to them as if they wero birds. If they
do not travel well, they address to them
gentle reproaches; and when special
effort is needed on their part, they say
“Come, my doves—you know you must
go up there; courage, my pets; come,
go on 1" And when the difficulty is ac¬
complished, they get down from their
box and praise and caress them, allow¬
ing them to rest and breathe—patting
them between their eyes, rubbing their
noses, stroking tho hair on their fore¬
heads between their ears—indeed caress¬
ing them in every way, and treating
them liko much-loved pets.
A City Beneath the Tide.
A city at the bottom of tho sea was
seen toward the end of October near
Treptow, in Prussia, when a powerful
south wind blew the waters of the Bal¬
tic away from the shore, uncovering a
portion of ground usually hidden from
sight by the waves. It was the ruins of
the city of Regamucnde, once a flourish¬
ing commercial station, which was
swallowed by the sea somo five centur¬
ies ago. The unusual spectacle was not
enjoyed but for a few hours. When the
storm slackened and the waves returned
to cover up tho place which had
once been tho residence and field of
labor of busy men. -‘-[North German Ga¬
zette.
% The Warmest Soles.
I know that it is contrary to precon¬
ceived notions, says Joel Swope in the
Globe-Democrat, but it is tho fact
all the same, that the feet can bo kept
warmer in cold weather by wearing a
shoe with a light sole than witli a thick
one. With tho light solo tho foot has a
chance to work, thereby keeping up a
circulation. This applies, of course,
only to dry weather. When it is wet
and rubbers are necessary, it is l>e9t to
wear a single-soled shoe inside. In the
summer the thick sole should bo used,
for it keeps the heat of the pavement
from striking through.
Nice Enough.
“Oh !” exclaimed a young lady ec¬
statically, “wouldn’t it belovely to paint
those flowers ?”
“No, dear,” responded another,
“they look niei enough without being
painted.’’---[Pittsburg Dispatch.
NO. 3.
Tlie Ministry of Song.
Not the child’s song with careless laughter
rising
From rosy lips in childhood’s sunny days,
Not that sweet strain which youth delights
in singing,
Are life's best melody and truest praise.
Gladsome are these, and beautiful; theii
cadence
Floats down long years; Life’s morning
song seems best;
Although maturity, with sighs, con fosses
Her children’s songs bring pity and unrest.
Who soothes the ear of grief with hint of
pleasure?
Who comforts ago with hope of things to
be!
Why have youth's song and life's maturer
measures
No common key note in life's harmony?
None know—and yet, from out our care and
clamor
Wo hear the wondrous music silence holds
In piteous need, one human lamentation
Most beauteous strain of sympathy enfolds.
Joy’s happy lay and grief’s heart-broken
wailing
No concord know, till some poor, stricken
heart,
With faith sublime, turn from its own re¬
pining
To comfort with a song some life apart.
As even song of birds seems holier, sweeter
Than any note the noon-day’s riot knew;
So that faint voice from desolation rising
May solace and uplift the wide world
through. K. Perry.
—[Edith
HUMOROUS.
Current literature—receipts for pud¬
dings.
A boarder romance—Marrying tho
landlady's daughter.
Many an old book has to be bound
over to keep (lie piece.
The mau who marries for beauty takes
his wifo at her face value,
Tho further man gets away from a
dollar the bigger it Iqoks.
Now Haven Nows! A cork’s crew
usually means a fishing vessel’s outfit.
The' gatekeeper at tho railway cross¬
ing should be a man of signal abilities.
Opportunities aro like vacant lots.
They must boiraprovod to bo profitable.
Professional whistlers have to whistle
for their pay bat they generally get
it.
If it were true that “time tries all
things" there would bo no use for
courts.
It must bo a very good brass band
that can play all th . airs a drum major
puts on.
A rolling stono gathers no moss, but
it knocks out all opposition at the foot
of the hill.
A man may bo opposed to capital
punishment and yet in favor of hanging
up his grocer.
Getting up with tho sun is a common
practice where there is a teething boy
baby in tho family.
In tho Volapuk language tho word for
dollar is “doab.” But it will be just as
hard as ever to borrow one.
‘ Tiie who sets out to stndy
man a
woman’s disposition can generally learn
a great deal, but tho prico of tuition is
apt to be high.
Aftor tho amateur fisherman has
ceased telling his story, ono lias grave
doubts that there are still as good fish
in tho sea as ever were caught.
The man who has a long ulster never
dreads the winter, nay, ho rather wel¬
comes it for he is then enabled to con¬
ceal tho bags in the knees of his trous
ers.
Women have much inoro adaptability
than me a. The girl with the tiniest
rosebud mouth can hold from four to six
six-inch clothespins between her jaws
on washday.
And now electricity is to be added to
tho defensive features of the barbed
wire-fence, Eloctricity is the only
thing possessing the power to make the
barbed wire-fence a more shocking af¬
fair than it is at present.
Tho minister was dining with tho
family, and ho said to Bobby, with an
amused smile: “I’m afraid, Bobby, that
you haven’t the patience of Job.” “No,
sir,’’ responded Bobby, who was hun¬
gry, “but Job wasn’t always helped
last.
A lady, who was a skilled pianist,
visited a friend and was asked to test a
new piano. The host’s little boy was in
the parlor and during an intormission in
the playing he was scon to bo crying
bitterly. “Why, Georgie, what’s the
matter?” inquired tho visitor, With
voice broken by sobs ho replied:
“That’s our piano, an’ your gettin’ all
the music out of it!”
Her cheeks are as red as tbe red June rose,
And white as a lily, her neck, the elk;
And I call her the fairest flower that blows,
For she’s always blowing about herself.
