NORTH GEORGIA f TIMES.
Vol. VIII. New Series.
All’s at an End. ” -
. Tl» breach is made—false friend, adieu.
All’s at an end between us two.
Let others come, with power and praise.
To blot your image from my days;
Th.-t shining past, its colors fade— *
Til have no more—the breach is made.
f AH'satanendt Proud instinct lies!
There is no end to human ties; >
•
My voice has learned an alieu tone;
My very look repeats your own;
Out natures act in foe and friend— '
In t
vain we cry, All’s at an end.
—[Dora Reed Goodale, in Harpers’
LTJOY’S BURGLAR.
BT HELEN FORREST GRAVES.
It was very lonesome at Aunt Jocas
ta’s—lonesome, even though I 1 just
como from tho wildernesses ©f New
Hampshiro mountain h a
r
crowded streets of Ne'- ✓me into tho
I had had my dre v York,
had fancied that ’ *ms of a career, I
mine this city expedition of
was a so- .c of mission to Aviat Jo
C P alii A ^ -elicato ° A 1 pictured to mysolf a
’ woman, much needing
BU a c 've, sympathetic niece like
rr - young
>yself.
I But the first sight of Aunt Jocasta,
Standing with her arm3 akimbo under
‘the fluttering shadow of n wholo grove
>of second-hand gowns and polonaises—
dn which useful articles she dealt—dis¬
pelled these visionary ideas to tho four
V'vlnds of heaven.
Sho was simply a fat, vulgar old wo
man—neither moro nor less.
“Oh, it’s you, is it?” said Aunt Jo¬
casta, as I alighted from tho cab in tho
sultry dimness of the August twilight.
“You’d ought to hev como in tho horse
cars. ’Twouidn’t hev cost near so
much. Or I'd hov met you if you'd let
mo know, and w T e could hev como down
in tho elevated. So you’re Maria’s dar¬
ter, be you? Don’t favor her much, I
calculate. No, cabby; don’t you bo
tryin' to como no such games one me!
Seventy-five cents is your fare, and
you’ll not get a cent more” (snatching
from my hand the silver dollar which,
3n obedience to the demand of my
Jehu, I was.timidly proffering him.)
The cabman muttered somo vary un¬
complimentary remarks, but jumped
on his box and drovo away, white Aunt
Jocasta led me through a stuffy littlo
store, filled with different varieties of
second-hand articles, from a sofa pil¬
low to a pair of brass fire-dogs, inf Jft
dingy back parlor smelling stror of
blue-mold and yesterday’s griddle*
cakes, and beckoned me to take a slip
pery, , horse-hair-covered , .
chair in tho
corner.
“So you’ve corns, to , t hcv you? ..
said she.
“If—if I - can bo of any comfort to
you, sa'^ d f ee ii n g rca qy t 0 burst into
tear
, “Oh,’taint that,” said tho old lady,
lifting the lid oi a fat, black tea-kettle,
which was singing on tho stove, and
peering curiously into Us depths. “I
don’t need no comfortin’. I s’pose,
though, there was lots o' gals to home,
and your ma was glad to got ono of ’em
effn her hands.” ,
“I assure you that was not the
treason," I burst out. “I came—I
•came—-’’
“Well, it don’t matter what you came
fori said Aunt Jocasta. “You’re here,
•and there’s an end of tho matter!”
' Sho regaled me on boiled lobster and
lettuce for supper, during which meal
»he was frequently summoned to tho
lehop by sharp, peremptory rings of
the little bell on the door, and I was
Tendered extremely nervous by hear¬
ing the details of one or two of tho
«harp bargains which sho drove across
the counter.
“I do hope, if you’re going to stay,"
said she, returning after ono of theso
verbal battles, “you’ll bo ablo to tako
some of these bothers off my hands.
It’s dreadful tryia’ not to bo let to take
one’s tea in peace. And a fresh lobster
at that, and salad fit for the queen.”
I said nothing, but secretly calcu¬
lated in my own mind whother I had
money enough to tako ma back to
Gooseberry mountain tho next day.
It wa3 painfully evident to me that
my Aunt Jocasta and I had our being in
altogether different spheres.
After supper, Aunt Jocasta went to
sleep and snoredj until she was roused
by the appearance of a pert lady’s-maid,
with a package under her arm—one of
her mistress’ cast-off ball dresses, which
she was commissioned to sell.
I Afterward, a slim-legged little boy
arrived on the scene, with a copper tea¬
kettle to dispose of; and, last of all, a
little old man came in, and, after a
prolonged siege of chaffering, carried
off more than a third of the stock in
trade, tied into a compact bundle.
After this, thero was a lively chase
down the street after a miserable,
SPRING PLACE. GEORGIA, THURSDAY, JUNE 21, 1888.
pasty-faced little girl who had been
caught stealing ono of the gay, sil> hand
kerchiefs that hung from t> Q awmng
overhead.
I wou:d fain have interred for the
trembling, panting c<dl u bttt
nearest aunt promptly policeman, delivery hcr oVct to tl / 0
against her in co’ agreeing to appear
while mob jrt the next morning,
a of men, women and chil
dren, who m Xght have ascended from
tho cracks ii the pavement, instantly
did the , so
/ appear, collected around tho
i in various stages of frantic curios
/•> And this
was the horno for which
had so foolishly left the sweet old farm¬
house under tho New Hampshire maple
treesl If ever poor mortal was wretch¬
edly homesick, it was I.
At last, Aunt Jocasta tied on a
snuffy old bonnet, that looked as if it
might have been slept in every night
for a week, and announced hcr inten¬
tion of “runnin’ around” to a fiiend of
hers for a few minutes.
“Tho shop is shut,” said she, “and
you can pull out tho sofy-bedstead and
go to bed any timo you please. Til let
myself in with a night-key when I come
in.”
I gazed mournfully at the uninviting
old sofa, which was eventually to be
transformed into my resting-place; and
then was the time, loft all alono by tho
light of a keroseno lamp, that smoked
badly, in which I tasted the keenest
bitterness of my lonely lot.
Tho rustling of tho mnplo trees under
Gooseberry mountain, the rush of White
Cascade, the hooting of owls in tho
trackless forest—all those sounds would
havo boon as music to my . ears cox
pared with tho muffled roar of wheels,
tho rise and fall of distant voicos, the
indescribable murmur of city life that
surrounded mo hero.
Just thon a peculiar sound struck on
my oar—tho grating of a key in a lock.
I started up, every word that I had ever
read or heard of tho audacity of New
A ork burglars recurring freshly to my
mind. The sound still continued. It
was nearer than I had at first imag
ined.
I rose up, trembling, and shrank back
into the darkest corner of the room, as
a tall, d-.ric -haired young man came
stealthily in, with a light cloak thrown
pictiiresquely across ono shoulder.
But then I remembered my duty to
Aunt Jocasta. That must be performed
Rt all hazards. And seizing up tho old
fashioned brass warming-pan which
stood on one end in tho corner, I rushed
at him without a second’s delay.
“Go away from herd" Icrie'3. “Po¬
lice 1 Help! help! Police I Go away
this momontl”
I had the satisfaction of hearing my
brass warming-pan riag a lively salute
against tho head of my amazed enemy;
but just at that moment I caught my
foot in a rip in the carpet and fell head¬
long to tho floor, warming-pan and all.
Iu a second, my ant igoniit, minm tho
hat which my implement of warfare
had knocked off, stood over mo.
“You little vixen!” said he. “What
ought I to do to you? What do you
Ihiuk you deserve?”
“Police!” I shrieked, resolute to the
last, although a sickoning sensation of
pain thrilled through every nerve, and
I knew that my left elbow was boat uu
der me.
But tho word died away into a moan
“Are you hurt?” the burglar asked.
*‘I—I think I’vo broken my arm,” I
wailed. ‘ Bat, oh, please go away!
Reflect what an awful thing it is to
break the commandment about stealing I
You are young yet—at least you don’t
look very old —and surely you can't bo
ontircly hardened to a life of sin. Please
promise never to do so any more---and
I'll let you go this time. Only promise 1”
The tall burglar was looking down at
me with a grave, solicitous face, across
which came a shadow of amusement at
my words.
"You’ll let mo go, will you?” said he.
“Very considerate of you, I’m sure.
But the question is now how to get you
up from tho floor without hurting you.
You seem to bo all tangled up in that
trass concern there.”
“If you will take hold of my hand,”
said I, “I think I can pull myself up.”
And so the burglar and I succeeded
in hoisting myself up and getting me on
a chair.
“That will do,” said I, with dignity.
“No go. At once I"
“But why should I go," said tho
young man. “Hodge upstairs. Didn't
you know that? Mrs. Podberry keeps
the key of my room in here, and I just
came to get it, as usual. ”
“Are not you a burglar?” said I, with
an effort.
“No," said the young man; “I’m a
telegraph operator. But you’re grow¬
ing paler every minute. Shall I run for
a doctor!”
The next thing I know was that Aunt
Jccasta was liberally besprinkling me
with Florida water; a doctor was ban¬
daging up my broken arm, with my
burglar assisting, after a most scientific
fashion, in the background.
“However did you do itt ’ said Aunt
Jocasta. “Hitting folks over the heads
with warming-pans, and breaking your
own arm, goodness knows howl One
might know you wore from the country,
taking decent people for burglars, and
raising, the whole neighborhood like
this l”'
“(Tonight interposed know sho was frem tho
count tho telograph
operator, laughing, “becnwsa sho is so
good and gentle and if iwmp’.&iuiag.
Besides, things did look rather sus¬
picious for mo, Mrs. Pod berry, you
must own,”
“Well, I meant to her told her about
your key, Mr. Harford,” said my auut;
“but I clean forgot it. I don’t s’poso
the child's so much to blame, after all;
but it would seem as if one might know
a burglar from a gontleman, anyhow
ycu can fix it. And now, if you’re done
with Lucy’s arm, doctor, do look artor
that cut on Mr. Harford’s head—bleediu’ .
steady, all over his hair,”
I stared with terrified eyes, la
“Did—I do that?” I gaspod,
“Not you,” said Harford. “It was
tho warming-pan that did it—an evil
minded sort of wirming-psn, since it
first wounded me and then flung you
over.”
Did ever acquaintance commence less
auspiciously? Yet, after all, I might
havo beon saved thoso bitter tears of
mortification and shame, since Mr.
Harford protested that the cut was
nothing—-a mere scratch of the skin--
and persisted in regarding the wholo
thing as an admirablo joke. In
fact, it only seemed -to make ui excel¬
lent friends.
My Aunt Jocasta, however, did not
improvo on acquaintance, ns I had
hope! sho would. Perhaps thero is
something antagonistic togeatloness and
refinement iu this second-hand business.
At alt events, I was heartily glad when
my arm was well enough tojjo to Goose¬
berry, Mountain.
“I shall never want to come back to
New York again," said I, after Mr.
Harford had seen to tho checking of my
baggage, and Wo stood together in the
shelter of tho Grand Central depot,
waiting for the great gates to open.
“Not even if I asked you?" said H ir
ford.
It was nearly dark, and no ono could
see that ho hrd takon my hand in hi3.
“You!” I echoed.
“I’ve beon trying for tho last week to
ask you to bo my wife," said ho. “It’s
my last chance now. Toll me, Lucy,
do you think you could lovo nsj enough
to marry me?”
“I—I don’t know,” I stammered;“but
I might try.”
He stooped ond kissed mo under the
shadow of tho monster poke hat that I
woro.
“My own darling,” he whispered
“write when you get homo and perhaps
I’ll come out and sec you in a week or
two.”
So I am engaged to Walter Harford,
after ail, and I think it extremely likely
that I shall spend tho rest of my days
in New York. An d I should bo quite,
quite happy, if I could only forget that
shocking cpisodo of tho brass warming
pan.—[Saturday Night.
Oyster-Eating Monkeys.
Monkeys seem to know what is tooth¬
some. A species of them mikes a daily
repast upon oysters. A string of some
two hundred small islands called Merghi
is located near the coast of British Bur
mah, the largest of which are less than
thirty by seven miles. There are' les 3
than a thousand people on all of them,
not enough to interfere perceptibly
with tho animal world, consisting of al
kinds of tropical creatures—serpents,
tigers, bears, rhinoceroses and many
kinds of monkeys. Denso forests sup¬
ply ample dwelling places for all of
them. There is a Macacua among them,
says Carpenter in Nature, that feed on
the oysters loft daily on tho beach by
the retiring flood. They emerge in
largo numbers from tho wood, go to tho
beach and pick stones not larger than
can bo well grasped with their hands,
and then proceed to the edge of tho
water. Having picked out an oyster,
tho monkey holds it with one hand, and
with the stone in the other breaks the
upper shell, which accomplished, his
nimble fingers pull out the mollusk,
which he devours with avidity.
“Did you make any money out West!’’
“Not a dollar 1” “What was the mat¬
ter?” “The United States detectives
got onto me, and I had to leave plates^
dies, and everything in a hurry.”
AMERICAN GLACIERS.
A Sublime Feature in the Moun¬
tain Landscape of the North.
America’s Icy Giant, the “Great
Glacier of the Selkirks.”
The United States is just a degreo or
so too far south to bo able to support
glaciers of any account, although some
of its mountain ranges are lolty. Upon
the Cascado Range of Oregon and
Washington territory many glaciers of
good size exist, and a few remnants aro
found in tho Sierra Nevada and that
northern branch of tho Rockios called
tho Wind River range.
From the Canadian boundary north¬
ward, however, the whole of tho intri¬
cate mountain system covering British
Columbia is sfulded with glaciers,
which aro encountered at less and
less elevation ns you go north¬
ward, until, iu tho gorge of the Skeena
river and the fiords of the Alaskan
coast, they descend into the very sea.
The whole breadth of theso mountains
i is now traversed by tho Canadian Pa
cific railway, and from the car windows
dozens of glaciers are plainly visible.
They begin with the ascent of tho east¬
ern slope of the Rocky mountains, ar.d
only disappear when the coast range
has been left behind, and the Pacific is
almost in sight, 500 miles west of the
first experience. In tho Rockies tho
ice is restricted to tho bare summit re -
gion, and nowhere (at least near the
railway) descends below timber lino. In
the Selkirk and Gold ranges, at the
sources of ths Columbia river, west of
tho Rockies, however, the ice reaches
far down into tho denso forests of gi¬
gantic co-lar and fir, which cover the
"valleys and lower part of tho peaks.
Tho most extensive of all these gla
ciers occupies a very lofty plateau at tho
summit of the magnificent Selkirk
mountains, just wcs'gof the railway pass,
•■ftud sends down huge arms into several
radiating ravines. This plateau, which
scores vi fifiies iii • extent, aud en¬
circled by peaks that rise far into the
realms of perpetual winter, is wholly
covered by a snow fio’.d, underlaid with
solid ice of great depth, and tiro “Great
Glacier of tho Selkirks,” together with
several others visible from tho cars, arc
only overflows of this wido mer do
glace, pusliod through gaps iu tho rim
of cliffs, and forming outlets for tho
constantly augmented congelation.
Within a nrilo of tho foot of tho Great
Glacier stands the railway station called
Glacier. This is littlo moro than a
hotel, which has boon built by the rail¬
way company for tho accommodation
of tourists, and ismost excellently main¬
tained. It stands half-way up an enor¬
mous ravino, which below sinks into n
pit somo miles in diameter, whence the
Illicilliwast River affjrds tho railway
a passage out of the mountains westward,
and which is surroundod by snowy aud
grandly outlined peaks. Down this
ravine comes au impetuous river whose
water, like that of nearly all tho other
streams in these mountains, is white as
milk, declaring its glacial birth; and
up tho banks of this most romantic
stream, through a forest of trees, somo
of which arc moro than 250 feet in
height, a good path leads to tho foot of
the glacier.
Deef ly ensconced below in tho green
forest, and overshadowed above by gi¬
gantic walls and pinnacles, dark, snow
streaked rock, the glacier forms a sub¬
lime feature in the mountain landscape
from many distant points of view; but
when ono comes suddenly cut of the
woods at a point in tho path only 500
yards from tho ico, tho scene that
bursts upon his vision is most impres¬
sive. Between two prodigious mount¬
ains, whoso splintered battlements arc
unrelieved by anything less stern than
patches of snow, lies a slopo of ico ten
miles in length and a third of that in
width. It is broadest at the top, where
it rests in jagged outline against the
sky some 2000 feet above your stand¬
point, then diminishes somewhat toward
1 its rounded, convex forefoot, so that its
whole shape'is that of a saddle-flap. At
tho top the ico has broken into a per¬
fect chaos as it fell over tho steep
rim of the plateau; but lower down,
where the slope is easier, its sur¬
face shows almost unbroken and billowy
outlines, conforming to the trough of its
bed. The general color is grayish
white, tho delicate gradations of which
mark tho undulating variations of the
surface; hut tho broken masses at the
crest, the numerous crevasses or cracks
which deeply scam its surfaco in
all directions (but most often crosswise)
and the profound rifts and breakages
where the ice steadily breaks down at
tho foot, aro vivid bluo, or in si mo
lights clear grass green. But these
colors and gradations of tint vary with
every alternation of sunlight and cloud
shadow. At each side of tho glacier
are great ridges of broken rocks and
bowlders (moraines), that upon tho left
beiug particularly prominent. In front
of it is a wido area of bowlders and
gravel, through which tricklo a number
of rivulets, speedily uniting into tho
liver, which half a mile down receives
a powerful tributary from another
glacier belonging to tho same sys¬
tem. Theso rivulets como from hol¬
lows that reach far under tho ice—
gleaming bluo tunnels, lighted by the
crevasses that let azure rays filter into
their depths. But it is unsafe to creep
into any of these crypts, for masses of
ice aro continually falling. Farther up
the side, however, thero is a cavern in
the ice, wlicnco once, no doubt, issued
a large stream, now diverted, and hero
one can enter and remain in safety. It
is like a cavity carved in a mass of
turquoise. Tho rugged walls aro lu¬
minous bluo, and tho very atmosphere of
this wonderful cave is saturated with
the same rich color.—[Harper’s Weekly.
Western Catilo and Telegraph Poles.
The Union Pacifio train runs for miles,
hundreds of miles, along the Platte and
South Platte rivers, and you begin to
sec that the engineers of theso western
railroads must have loved the rivers, for
they followed them very closely, and
when they get further on among the
mountains there is no stream so perverse,
or crooked iu its ways that the engineer
will depart from it.
Theso aro tho piaius, where little or
no raiu falls, where practically nothing
but grass grows without irrigation. I
believe the rain belt lias, in theso last
thirty years, movod west in Kansas and
Nebraska somo ono or two hundred
miles, and that thero arc now many pro¬
ductive farms where even so recently it
was thought useless to try to raiso crops.
But tho rain belt has yet plenty of
room to go west in. Thero is water in
tho South Platte, and at times a good
deni of it—a. broad, shallow river with
low banks, running through a fl it and
level country, flat and level for miles
and miles, with hero and thero an irri¬
gated spot and with soma groat irrigat¬
ing ditches dug by companies that havo
spent lots of money in tho work—but
the country is mostly given up to stock
raising, and tho stock stays out all win¬
ter. Tho grass cures on tho ground,
and the cattle eat it tlio year round, for
it is seldom all covered with snow. Tho
cattlo go to the river or to other streams
or wot places for water. They wear
trails across tho plains in their marches,
and many paths are worn to and from
tho telegraph poles atong the railroads,
which the cattle march to to scratch
themselves on. Sometimes for miles
tho lower parts of tho telegraph polos
are worn as smooth a3 though they had
been sandpapered, by tho scratching of
tho cattle.—[New York Sun.
A Hasty Meal.
Olivo oil is tho great product of tho
province of Otranto, in Italy, says a
tourist, and at Brindisi it is worth while
to visit ono of the houses where tho
merchants keep this valuahlo com¬
modity. They havo 'arge cisterns, liko
tanners’ vats. Between theso there is
small standing-room, and I was warned
to take care not to fall in; one may be
very fond of bathing, and yet not care
for a dip in olivo oil.
They tell of a dog that fell in ono
day, but, luckily, was got out, dripping
with this oil, so valuable here as a sub¬
stitute for butter. A crowd hunted tho
poor boast with pieces of bread, rubbing
them on him for tho oil, and eating as
they ran all through tho town. Tour¬
ists had better be careful, or the dog’s
fate may be theirs.
Kissing in Sweden.
Tho most surprising freedom prevails
among tho lower classes, and, for that
matter, it is openly hinted at Carlstcad
among tho aristocracy as well, promis¬
cuous kissing being indulged in upon
every occasion, moro especialiy at ho¬
tels, where it is expected that upon set¬
tling one’s bill, the chambermaid and
waitress who attended tho traveler
must bo both kissed before the entire
company. This peculiar custom was
particularly trying to my companion,
who upon every occasion chose rather
to incur tho disploasuro of the young
ladies than to sanction a practice that
certainly can lead to no good result. —
[Boston Bulletin.
Governor — You’ve boon running
ahead of your allowance, Jack. Jack—
I know it, dad. I’vo been hoping for a
long time that tho allowance would
strengthen up enough to overtake me.
NO. 20.
"Clear the Way.”
The city lies in lmshed repose,
The wintry night-wind freshly blows,
As if to rock the cradle host
In slumber’s sweet oblivion lost.
But hark! a sound, and lo! a sight
That wnkes the town in the dead of night.
A shriek and a glare,
A cry of despair
At the flames in their ire,
For tho ono word is “Fire!”
The people rush out,
And, with hurry and shout,
Press on to the light
As it brightens the night,
And spreads like a banner unfurled up on
high,
A sigh and a terror against the dark sky!
But bark to the clatter, than music more
sweet,
Of the rolling wheels and the horses’ feetl
“Out of the way—out of the way 1
They come to save; now clear the wayl’
A sea of faces upward turned,
Ono fear by every lioart inurned.
By ruddy light is cloarly read
On every brow the anxious dread.
A mother ’inid the bright light stands,
Her neck tight clasped by baby hands,
And through roar and hiss,
Not quite they miss
Her piteous frenzied cry;
But mounting quick on high,
A hero springs,
His helm a star
Of hope, that flings
A halo far
’Jlid the lurid light,“'“TH
For a moment lost, then dimly seen
As it gleams on the sight,
The curling wreath of smoko between!
Up the ladder ono rushed, but three corn!
down,
And the shining helm is a hero’s crown!
Yet heeds not he what people say,
He only bids them “clear the way!”
—[Chamber’s Journal,
HUMOROUS.
An old-fa9hioned trust---“trust to
luck.”
A reasonable romark: “Pass tho salt,
please.”
Timo gallops under tho spur of the
moment.
Old maids know what a miss spent
life means.
The wasp has ono strong point, but it
is not in favor.
A nine to play ball in malarial dis¬
tricts—quiuino.
It is tho miser who is always in need
of a chest protector.
The man was disappointed who ex¬
pected to read something sensational in
an agricultural paper under tho head of
“Harrowing.”
“Pa,” said Bertio the other day,
“why do thoy call a ship 'she?'”
“Because, my son, sho is always on
tho lookout for somo of tho buoys.”
Professional gamblors have a great
many superstitions. One of the most
practical is, that if thoy deal tho cards
themselvos they have a much bettor
chance to win.
Thero is a littlo girl in Now York
whose commercial interests aro so pre¬
cocious that sho rents furnished rooms
in lior doll’s houso to her sisters for a
fixed number of carnmols each week.
“One thing, Maria,” said the tarred
and-fcathered gentleman, as his wife
was plucking him, after tho festivities:
“tho tar ain’t no special use, but there’s
’most a dollar’s worth of feathers on
me.”
A western basoball supply deals
places tlio usual array of bats aud balls
in his show window, und thon adds to
them a largo roll of court plaster, a
huge bottlo of arnica and a pair of
crutches.
“Clara,” said tho old man from the
head of tho stairs, “has that young
man gono yet?” “No, sir,” came back
an exceeding prompt reply, and it wasn’t
in Clara’s voice either, “but ho is going
at once, sir.”
“Wal, wal, wall” said Mrs. Sprig
gins. “What fools somo mortals be.
They wont and raised 3,046,899 carats
in tho Diamond Fields of Afriky last
year. It ’pears to me liko as if I had a
good soil to grow diamonds on 1
wouldn’t waste no timo over garden
sass.”
Ardent Lover (on his knees): Gan
you, then, doubt my affection, darling?
It is eternal as tho hills—everlasting as
tho valleys. All I ask, sweetheart, is
your dear hand. Languid Beauty: Ask
mo paw, Georgie. Ardent Lover (ris¬
ing from his knees): Ah—er—then,
your paw, darling.
As tho last note of that touching lit¬
tlo ballad, “Tho Letter that Ho Longed
For Never Came,” vibrated on the even¬
ing air sho turned to find a tear trick¬
ling slowly down his cheek. “Ah, Mr.
Sampson,” she said, sympathetically,
“you, too, have ‘longed.’” “Yes,” ho
replied huskily, “two years ago a very
dear friond of mine went west on $25
which I loaned him, and for aught I
know ho may be dead.”
