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About North Georgia times. (Spring Place, Ga.) 1879-1891 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 23, 1888)
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.
