Funding for the digitization of this title was provided by R.J. Taylor, Jr. Foundation.
About North Georgia times. (Spring Place, Ga.) 1879-1891 | View Entire Issue (June 28, 1888)
NORTH GEORGIA ■■v.. TIM •i r ILi «— n Vol. VIII. New Series. Change. The mom was fair and. promised true, iA day of sun in summer land; Hd love was fond, and love was new, Vith all of bliss it could command; sweet, I promised unto you HHlcvcsboul 1 true an Ut.-adfast stand. Haon sun shone with fervid heat the land, upon the sea; Hpnii.il were by my side, my sweet, not quite the same to be, had changed—and it is meet change had come to me. ■■■Hrairie ^^in a sea of geld, reaching wide; I would withhold, & y ~'v, •: :uv bri >; iiSfllSl ■fue a thousand fold , morning tile. gHBEEsSBir - [Times Democrat. ic” i £?u PREACHER. 8. ISAACS. jVy that it was no 1 had the same ■*nair, was of the UHd tho same Ha read be SsHf vVvH’ns ink ful for a new iSlHrough some bunged, lie p L ■Yd.- i'.-'V. . , K . .. K . . fy ' g§ ' 1 w. | ' v tho wans, rare etchings V easel, costly engravings on a cabinet of coins in ono corner, aud a poem in marble in another —it was no wonder that ho felt a thrill of self-satisfaction as ho glanced in every direction. And his senso of com¬ fort was heightened by tho roll of proof sheets on his desk —his latest work al¬ most ready for publication. There was a long row of volumes since his occu¬ pancy of tho pulpit, but this was to bo his crowaing effort, and to increase still further his fame. There were tho books, tho creation of his genius, on a long shelf all by them¬ selves. Tho critics spoke highly of them; tho learned world acknowledged their merit. History, biography, criti¬ cism, wero h^ special fields. But his mind was so versatile that ho could pro¬ duce novels as well; and his poems had also a rapid sale. As a popular lec¬ turer ho always commanded a largo au¬ dience. His travels in the East and hi 3 discovery of the missing tractate of St. Theodosius had gained him tho doctorate from threo Old World univer¬ sities. Yes, ho had been singularly success ful, and that, too, without stooping to nny moan tricks. Ho was above syco¬ phancy and self-advertising. Ha had made his way by hard pushing, by rcso ■j^vgUl^by sheer stamina, he was Not two decades in tho Mk long outstripped preach- 1 htfrv n Vi HilPW^be- ~7i a and ,he .•r ’ yw 'd !de 1 w ' ■ ” ’ BP 5 fijr , .ii.ii'. , ■ llr "| H >. over *fW ;\’inc: - was just in ■pride was attain the voice of his H,do tho heavy cur “den” from tho querulous tono from Purbed in his revery. ere whom you wished to ■ he asked, in an im ROG. eracm ber? The boy for i to secure a situation. H ely, havo forgotten it.” B ^■"de of pain in her voice. come to-morrow, Edith; ^ bothered now. I havo my iiusy enough with other mat fcim come—say, this day next James,” with gcntlo remons jB- in her tone—“James, his mother Piestitute; sho must have money.” “I cannot help it. Why am I always troubled by that class of peoble? It ■would tax the patience of Job or the purse of Croesus. Let him come next week; do you hear?" The preachir’s wife heard; she sighed SPRING PLACE. GEORGIA. THURSDAY. JUNE 28, 1888, as she turned away, and bade ihe boy come the following week. Then seeing him to the door, she gave him a triflo for present needs. The preacher resumed his revery, but found it difficult to regain his self satisfaction. His nature was keenly sensitive, and the slightest cause would often produce the intensest jar. And now what had snapped asunder his pleasant fancies? What had vexed him at the moment of his exhilaration? It was his wife’s sigh—low, tremu trated lou|, scarcely his audible—which had pene¬ eoul and rankled there, as if imbued with physical potency. It was the sigh of his wife, gentle, patient, un¬ complaining, that hod stirred him from his dreams. IIo rose from his chair. He paced up and down the room. He never sighed. Why should his wife sigh? And why should that sigh pro¬ duce such inward ill? Had he said aught unkind?. Was ho not always gen tlo to her? His wife’s sighl Sho was not looking so young. Thero wero streaks of gray in her hair, and her checks were not so full and round. His wife's sight Was it not her wealth that gavo him leisure and independence? Was it not hor in¬ fluence that had spread liD fame? Did her sigh imply regret at her choico, or her bitter disappointment? The preacher had a conscience, and it was making a sharp light. Jacob’s con¬ test of old with tho wrestling angel finds its parallel in many an inward struggle of tho human soul, Tho preacher’s few minutes of agony seemed as long as tho hours to tho patriarch, and ho too prevailed, and his heart was changed, lika tho narna of his proto¬ type. “I would liko to seo him so muchl” The tones of a fresh, strong voico fell upon his ear as the curtain was drawn aside and a young man entered. “Ah, doctor, I could not resist tho desire to see you. I have heard of you so often, and your books aro well thumbed at home. I have so much to say. ” His eagerness rang out in every word. “You know I have chosen tho ministry for my vocation. Oh, doctor, I fool so unfitted for the task 1 My doubts aro not of God, or religion, or the Good Book, or tho lovely traditions and asso¬ ciations that blend with tho faith. No, no; my doubts are of myself—my un worthincss, my littleness, my poverty of tho Spirit. What can I do to cope with the task? Ilow can I become a preacher to humanity? Ilow shall I drive homo tho religion divine? How shall I impel men to follow tho Master? The work is so sublimo and I so insig¬ nificant. What can I do?” The preacher heard him. It seomod that his features woro familiar, and his voice was not strange. “Oh, doctor, Ido not care for books when struggling men and weak women and tender children aro to ho uplifted. I do not wish for fame. I do not look for success, measured by a largo con¬ gregation, a princely salary, and a grow¬ ing reputation. I would havo tho prophet’s idoal realized in my life. Let tho spirit of God rest upon me, however lowly my portion tho spirit of wisdom and understanding. Lat mo not judge after the sight of my eyes, nor reprove after the hearing of my ears. These words of Isaiah always occur to me, doc¬ tor. I mado them tho text of my grad¬ uation sermon at the seminary a few weeks ago. I—” “His graduation sermon,” thought the preacher. “Why, it was my very text when I graduated l" “Oh, doctorl doctor!” tho young man criod, as the tears started in his eyes, “pardon my impulsiveness. I do not wish to be faithless to my ideal. So many start woll and fail. I want to translate that text into life. There is so much to be done and so few to do it. Don’t you recall those lines from Low ell? “ ‘The Lord wants reapers; oh, mount up Before night comes and says, “Too Latel" Stay not for taking scrip or cup The Master hungers while ye wait.’ ■ “Thoso lines—thoso lines,” said the preacher to himsolf; “they were always in my memory. Why do I hear them now? Have I waited for scrip or cup while the Master has hungered?" “I know no greater curse, doctor,” continued the young man, with his cheeks all aflame with enthusiasm, “than to have my unfulfilled ideal re¬ buke mo as I grow old. To have the spectre of the unrealized always around me; to hear the accusing voice of op portunity misspent and advantages mis applied; to feel that I have been dis loyal and cowardly, and bent only on my own advancement while religion has hungered—the thought would drive me wild. And I havo come to yon, good sir, for kindly counsel. Tell me what I shall do. You sympathize with me. You too onco were young like myself.” “You have come to me—to me—for counsel!” tho preacher exclaimed, ris¬ ing from his chair and advancing. “Do you know how iaithless I have been to my youth’s ideal? Oh, spare me—spare me—” The preacher awoke. Was it but a revery, after all? Had his youth come back to accuse him, liko in Jean Paul Richter's dream?” “Edith 1 Edith 1’’ he exclaimed, tear¬ ing aside the curtain, and folding her, as she came, in a passionate embrace. “Edith! Edithl you shall uever sigh again. It is still day for us. It is not too late, thank God l 1 ’ He told her of his wrestling spirit and his victory. And when tho next Sab¬ bath dawned he preached as he never had preached beforo. People noted tho difference; he felt it; and with tho soed of humility planted anew in his soul, his work grew to lovelier and more on during proportions.—]Harper’s Bazar How Ho was Placated. A friend of mine related to mo last night his experience in reconciling a testy old fellow to the marriage engage¬ ment of his favorite daughter. My in¬ formant being a discreet and benevolent character and intimate with all tho per¬ sons concerned, was persuadod by tho young people to intercede on their be¬ half. Ho undertook the task with no little hesitation,aud tho reception which his overture? met was not calculated to raise any hopes. Ho began by repre¬ senting to patorfamilias tho exceeding cleverness of his would-bo son-in-law and tho brilliant future which certainly lies beforo him. This, however, pro¬ duced not the least effect, and ho suc¬ ceeded no better when ho fell back upon the young man’s lino moral qualities and solid worth. At last tho potential father-in-law exclaimed: “Now, -, you have told mo a lot of stuff in praiso of this fellow who wants to marry my daughter—bo honest, and say what thero is to be said against him.” Being thus taken in flank, as it wore, tho family friend, a ridiculously con¬ scientious porson, admitted, with soma^ hesitation,that tho matrimonial aspirant is rather unpopular, that his manners ore not pleasant, that ho Is supposed to be sullen at times, etc., etc. “Hum!” said tho old gentleman pricking, up his cars, “has he many frionds?” “No,” the go-between confessed, 1 ‘I am afraid not.” “AVell," the stern parent de¬ clared unbending at last, “I don’t know but what Fanny may have him if sho likes. Ho is evidently disagreeable enough, but in my opinion, the kind of man that you describe makes a pretty safe husband. Your jolly, popular men aro always spending other people's money. Fanny is a sensible girl, and if sho wants to marry this young fellow I won’t stand in the way,"—[Boston Post. A Chinese Courtship. Another curious feature in Chinese life is reported in tho native press. A difficulty having been found by a good looking humpbacked girl in procuring a husband, tho go-between discovered that an identical difficulty prevented a certain humpbacked young man from getting a wife. Sho accordingly ar¬ ranged a match; but ns each party was of very eligible quality in other respects, each of the respective parents insisted upon obtaining a surreptitious view of tho amorous one on either side. Tho go-between accordingly arranged that the girl should bo interviewed as she sat at her spinning whoel with her hump daftly inserted in a hole in tho mud wall, while the man was introduced as he was conducting home a water buffalo and leaning over its neck with his rain negligently thrown over his back. Tho marriage took placo, and it then be¬ came too late for tergiversation, as it had been indorsed by law.—[San Fran¬ cisco Alta. A Practical Test Johnny, who is four years old, was playing in the yard ono day, and a lady who lived close by wished to havo tho eggs if any were laid since her last visit to the hennery brought in. She said to the little boy: “Johnny, will you go to the hennery and seo if there arc any eggs there? Don’t bring in the China ones; leave them there; but if there be any others bring them in.” Johnny started to do the bidding, and soon returned with two or three broken eggs and his pinaforo soiled. The lady seeing him coming, exclaimed: “Oh, Johnny, how did yon break tho eggs?” Johnny looked at her in surprise and said: “How could I tell whether they were china eggs or not, if I didn't try them. —[Boston Globe. COUNTRY DOCTORS. The Busy Lives of Country Phy¬ sicians in the Last Century. Medical Treatment in the Days of Our Great Grandfathers. Tho country physician of colonial days, and of the years ending with the last century, led a laborious life. Most of his waking hours wero spent in rid¬ ing long distances over bad roads. Ho was obliged to bo hail-fellow-well-met with every one in tho county, for on his largely depended his profes¬ sional success. In those toping days thero was always something on tho side¬ board for tho doctor, of which ho was rarely loath to taka advantage; conse¬ quently, he generally mellowed with the years, grew rotund in person, and, like Hawthorn’s middle-aged English¬ man, “his logs abbreviated themselves, and his stomach assumed that dignified prominence which justly belonged to that motropolis of his system. Ilis eye contracted a metry twinkle, a chuckle lurked in his full throat, always ready for use, and gradually ha grew to bo known as a peripatetic story-teller, and often tho best gossip in tho county. At that time, as a gonoral thing, chemists and druggists had not vet boon educated, and established on tho most prominent corners of tho towns. Tho apothecary shop of the neighbor hood was usually wherever tho doctor’s saddlo-bags happened to bo at tho time. Drugs wero then takon in largo doses, their use not being by any means con¬ fined to tho sick. Purgative compounds wero administered to tho Uoarty and strong each spring, and it was deomod necessary that at that scasoa of tho yoar tho blood of both old aud young should be purifiod by tho uso of generous doses of noxious mixturos. Rhubarb and mo¬ lasses were forced down tho throats of healthy children as a fancied preven¬ tive of disoase, and mercurial medicines wero used to such an extent as often to result in tho falling out of tho patient’s teeth, Powerful tine turogj loathsome infusions, and bitter barks wero prescribed in such quantities as would hardly bo croditod by physicians of tho present day. Gen¬ tlemen of tho profession, whoa at a loss to know what to prescribe, wero al¬ ways ready to pull out tho lancet, and relieve tho patient of copious quantities of blood, often at a timo when such a weakening and depleting treatment in¬ creased tho malady and hastened death. Blood-letting was even resorted to in cases far gono with consumption, and by theold-timo physician was considered tho alpha and omega of all practico During tho prevalence of yellow fever in PHiladelphia testimony was taken as to its manner of treatment. Mc Mastcr quotes from tho published re¬ port, showing that ono patient was bled twenty-two times in ton days, losing 176 ounces of blood. From another of the sick 150 ouncas wero taken in fiteen bleedings; several lost over 100 ounces, and from ono child but six weeks old SO ounces wero drawn. Tho Rev. Dr. Ashbel Green writes in his autobiogra¬ phy that when a lad of about niuetoon, and without any modical knowledge, ho used to be called upon by his father— who was a clergyman, physician, farmer and distiller—to prepare medicines, let Wood, extract teeth and inooulato for smallpox. At tho beginning of the eighteenth century smallpox was still the cnomy of mankind, as that dread disease had been from the sixth century, when, in Arabia, it started on its mission of death. It was annually committing fearful ravages—as many as 400,000 dying in Europe in ono year. Tho East, as if desirous of compensating tho world for originating this terrible scourge, gave to suffering humanity its initial knowledge of how to check its spread, for it was in Turkey that inocu¬ lation first becamo known. This man¬ ner of fighting the disease was intro¬ duced in tho Amcrcan colonics in 1721 by Dr. Zabdiel Boylston of New Eng¬ land, at the earnest instigation of Cot¬ ton Mather, who had learned of the success in the Ottoman empiro of such treatment. In tho face of great op position, the doctor’s first experiments were made on his son, a lad of thir¬ teen, and on two negro slavos. Tho re-, suit was such as to warrant his extend¬ ing the operations, and during the year 240 persons were inoculated. For a timo Dr. Boylston stood alone. Physi¬ cians, people, and the press were intense against this new manner of combating the smallpox. Even Franklin, who was generally far ahead of the times in his appreciation of what was valuable for the community, wrote strongly in condemnation of tho practice. He al- J tered his views in latsr life, as h j shown , . by his memoirs, although long before that time tho treatment had con quered opposition, and was generally accepted as a truo preventive of this terrible scourge of the colonist.---[New York Post. Washington's Modesty. One trait of General Washington’s character frequently caused disappoint¬ ment to his guests-—his reluctance to talk of his own actions, lie was fond of pleasant, familiar conversation, aud enjoyed a jest as woll as any man; but it was well-nigh impossible to “draw j him out” on tho stirring scenes of his career, whether political or military. Even tho members of his own family ! rarely heard him mention any of tho ex- i ' ploits with which his name was popu- I larly identified. Miss C'ustls wrote that j she had heard him laugh hcarti'y at her j girlish pranks, but that usually lie was j silent and thoughtful, and “never spoke ; of himself.” She declared that, though : sho grew up in his house, she had never . once hoard him rclata a singlo act of ! his military Ufa. j j Bishop White, of Philadelphia, bears similar testimony. He said ho had never known a man who was so scrupu¬ lous in this particular. “It has occa¬ sionally occurred to me when in his com¬ pany,” said tho bishop, “that if a stranger to his person wore present, he would never have known from anything said by bins that ho was conscious of having distinguished liiinsolf in tho eyes of the world.” Ho really had no vanity, and made no claim to special consideration. The incident of liis car rying with his own hands a bowl of hot drink, in tho night, to a young guest who was coughing badly, astonished tho young man ex¬ tremely, but it came as natural as possi¬ ble to Gonoral Washington. IIo has done similar things a hundred times to sick slaves. The same may bo said of hit giving up liis seat to a poor woman. It was at Morristown, during tho revolutionary war, on a Sunday morning, when ser vico was hold in the open air nntl all the troops wero present. A chair had been placed for tho commander-in-chief, which he, from a regard for the con¬ sideration that placed it there, occu¬ pied. Just as the brief service was about to begin, a woman with a child in her arms drew near. Washington at once rose, seated hor in tho chair, and remained standing until tho close of tho exercises. The best thing ever said of Georgo Washington tary, Tobias Lear, was a who remark lived of at lm Mount secro- j Vernon for some years in the closest in¬ i timacy with his chief. “General AVa?h- | ington,” said Mr. Lear, “is, I believe, almost tho only man of an exalted character who doos not loso some part of his respectability by an intimate ac¬ quaintance. I havo never found a sin¬ gle thing that could losson my rospoct for him,”—[Youth's Companion. How She Endured Dissipation. An observant aud thinking AVasbing touinn,says tho Detroit Free Press, while on tho subject of the hard work which so¬ ciety women at tho capital aro com¬ pelled to undergo, tolls a story of a de¬ butante that is worth a re-rccital in the Detroit Froo Press. Thero was a protty girl, Miss X--, just tho girl for Washington to kill oil in ono season. Her mother knew- it, and it was that mother’s knowledge and devotion that saved the girl. The mother watched her darling Chloo all winter with the faithful constancy of a ptout nurse in the case of a helpless patient. She sent another (and an elder) member of the family into society with her, and sho (her mother) staid at homo and did heavy work. She kept everybody still and compelled favorable and soothing conditions, so that her precious charge could sleep till noon. Then she lifted hor out of bod, carried her to tho bath, bathed her and never per¬ mitted her to make tho least exertion in her own behalf, Sho rubbed her with dry towels, clothed her, fed hor with nourishing food, and in t’till after¬ noon mado tho grand rounds as her es¬ cort. At 5 o’clock slio brought hor charge home, fed her and put her carclully to bed. An hour boforo tho time of setting out for the night's whirl she gave her another bath and pre¬ pared hor for tho conflict. Sho kept that girl going by constantly groQming her with exactly the same caro that a professional pugilist’s trainer bc6towcs upon his charge beforo a fight, or that a jockey gives a race horse; and in the spring, when everybody else was jaded out and sick and ready to drop, Chloe was as spry as a cricket, and sho cap¬ tured the best catch of tho soason. NO. 21. To Hie End. O friend of mine! Staunch triei-d erf mine! ^ ^ ^ fa yonrg> ani say> Jhe Jr _ ve ouJ . Jenping from your eyes ‘.y nu have been friend to me always, God bless you, friend of mine. j O friend of mine! Firm friend of mine! We each life’s bitterness have knot. And hand in hand have stood, Ami now I leave you here alone— God bless you friend of mined O friend of mine! Strong friend of mine! Your love has made iny life seoir*£' Life goes too swift for love li’ Jfl Your arm tip. olds mo in t frieu 1 O friend of mine! o True friend of mincer Mv feeble breath is fa)’ Hold close my hands Good-bye—-yes faith 0 f God bless you, fp —lAlgermiu SoAj IJ Never Cj A A crui n\JJ “j mail, J. his I alw % ing' AV while she . 1 Living so 'VF • >r wild lurely some rapid youths essay toBSB^ the same with a bicycle. Death of great men all remind us Thero are great men still about us: AY pen we leave tho world behind us. It will get along without us. Mistress (to applicant)—Ilow old ara you, Bridget? Applicant (with a sigh' —Ah! mem, naythe uv us willivcr seo forty agin. A dressmaker got mad because her lover serenaded her with a fiuto. Sho said sho got all tho fluting she wanted in her regular business. Tlio individual who parsed kiss as “a noun and at tho same timo a conjuac lion,” was not only a clever grumma r i an but also a shrewd man of the world. Customer—-I would liko a pair of tronscrs . jeioor walkor-Trouscrs? Yes. About what price, sir? Customer-Oh, three or four dollars. Floor walker— j,,hn,sliow this gentleman to tho pants counter. She: “And do you really think that you would bo happy with mo as your wife?” IIo: “Oh, I am sure; I have always been a lucky fellow in garneH chance.” “Aiu’t you in, Maria?” ■N s JB fsgjjj - ■ i ^ijj OD.reb'-.re A jAS . n ‘S ' is BPS . f<>Y»>wm|- ’.vTil!... . A r.ti'.e 0 1 L M 31 jm to pot tlllJP H this wi'iins < arue-uly: “My pa do BH.--''. iii::bo any smaller. ejAsjjre;: J.'i-tt's teacher gavo hoH p . o which, ••little brotjfl ol'PIH \ it He ate heartily an ! cake, and was found ri the bench in tho porch while children were at play in tho ^H When askod why ho didn’t join thel he exclaimed: “Oh, I can’t play; nu pants choke mo so 1” Now the milk farmer plugs tho maples and bt^| to his cows. Now aspirants presidential fill the papV with their rows. M Now Jamaica’s warming ginger antid4P Bermuda’s fruits. Now the girls are out n-gaddlng in tho lore’ liest of suit?. A Timely Correction. “There seems to be nothing in the market,” said Mrs. Hendricks, despair¬ ingly, to the widow Jenkins, who had “just dropped in” for a moment. “I’m worried to death to know what to got for— “Why, ms,” interrupted Bobby, who was laboriously pencilling his name on tho wall, “I heard you say that Mr3. Jenkins was in the market.”—[Bazar,
