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VoL VIII. New Series.
At Sunset Time. '
jOn toward the west the passing day,
As tho’ reluctant seeming,
fioft stole to where the flame-clouds lay
To where the sun hung beaming.
iAud yet she seemed full loth to go,
E’en tho’ the world was shadowed so,
j But looked back o’er the dimpled hill
: To where the world lay dim and still,—
To where the world lay dreaming.
At time we steal away
To where the sky is gleaming;
To where the light that marks the day
Is all our heaven seaming.
And yet we seem full loth to go,
E’en tho’ the world is shadowed so.
But look back, with regretful eyes,
To where the world in twilight lies,—
To where the world is dreaming.
—•[Julie M. Lijpmai.n ia Overland.
The School Ma'am’s Victory.
The school directors of District No.
19, Perry Township^ were holding a
meeting.
Nobody would have thought it. The
Chairman was leaning against his front
gate with his checked shirt sleeves
turned back and an ax in his band, sur¬
veying tho other two members of tho
Board, who stood outside the fence.
It was a meeting, nevertheless; and
its object was nothing less important
than the selection of a teacher for the fail
term.
‘‘Lyman Doty spoke to me about
having tho school,” said tho Chair, du¬
biously.
‘‘Lyman Doty!” exclaimed Steve Ten¬
ney, a stalwart young fellow, with thick
brown hair, white teeth and a square
chin to make up for his lack of down¬
right good looks. “Why Lymo Doty
couldn't teach a baby. He quit school
before I did, long enough, and he
hasn't studied anything but potatoes
•nd winter wheat since, that I know of.
Better stick to his farm—eh, Larkin?”
“Guess you’re right,” responded the
third member of the Board, a little man
with a cheerful face and a tuft of gray
hair sticking straight out from his chin.
And the chairman nodded his agree
xnent.
“Well,” continued little Mr. LarJci ',
with an air of importance, •TV’o hall in
application that I guess will suit, f It's
la sort of relative of my wife’s, and just
as nico a girl as ever was. Smart, too.
She’s got a certificate for two years,
last examination. She’d make a splen¬
did teacher, Molly Sanborn would.”
“Sanborn 1” said Steve Tenny, short¬
ly; “any connection with the Sanborns
ever on tho river?”
“That’s whero she’s from," said Mr.
Dai kin. “She’s old John Sanborn’s
girl—him that died last winter.”
Steve frowned.
“You won’t put her into that school,
then, with my consent 1” he said de¬
terminedly.
“What!” said Mr. Larkin, with a
gasp, whilo tho chairman stared,
“What would you think,” the young
man responded, “if a man sold you fifty
head of sheep at a good price, and half
of them died off in tho next week of a
disease he must have known beforehand?
That was the trick John Sanborn
served me. And ho laughed in my
face when I wanted my money back.
No, sirl I can’t conscientiously con
sent to putting any of the Sanborns ia
that schooL Bad lot, in my opinion!”
Mr. Larkin’s small bright eyes
snapped.
“Old Sanborn wasn’t too straight,
and everybody knows it," ho admitted,
“But what that’s got to do with Molly
is more than I can see. She’s as fine a
girl as you ever set eyes on; not a bit
of her father about her.”
“Well, well, fight it out between
you," said the chairman, good-natured¬
ly; and returned to his wood chopping.
The tall young man and the littlo
old man waltced up the street together,
• talking briskly.
Mr. Larkin was hot and indignant;
Bteve was cool and immovable.
“There don’t seem to bo any mercy
in you,” said the former, almost tear¬
fully, as Stove was preparing to turn in
at Ms gate. “If they’d been left well
off, it would be different; lut they’re
poor as poverty, and Molly needs the
place the worst way."
“You hadn't mentioned that,” said
the young man, turning back. “If
that’s the case-■”
Mr. Larkin walked away triumphant
five minutes later.
But Steve Tenney had surrendered
with bad grace.
“I couldn’t hold out after that, you
see,” he said to his mother, relating the
story over their tea; “but I don’t ap¬
prove of it. There’a sot much good in
the Sanborns or I lose my gues31”
School began two weeks later, when
the first cool wave was depopulating
front porches and increasing the attrac
ties near kitchen stoves.
SPRING PLACE. GEORGIA, THURSDAY. AUGUST 23, 1888.
Steve Tenney held to his opinion con¬
cerning the new school teacher and
acted accordingly.
He did not call at the schoolhouse
the first day, as was his custom, to
leave the register and see if anything
was wanted—the chairman having
turned these duties over to his younger
colleague.
He sent the register by a boy, and
was utterly indifferent as to whether
anything was wanted. He turned tho
subject when the new teacher was men
tioned; and ho avoided Mr. Larkin’s
comfortable home, where tho teacher
boarded.
The little man made him a call, how¬
ever, a month or so after school had be¬
gun.
“Guess you’H have to ova up to be¬
ing in the wrong, Steve,” he began.
“We haint had a teacher for years that's
given the satisfaction that Molly does.
The children rave about her—all of
’em.” i
But Steve was unimpressed.
“My opinion has yet to be altered,"
ho said rather stiffly.
And Mr. Larkin lookod discouraged.
“She spoke about needing a new
broom and water pail,” he said as ho
rose. “I told her she’d better come to
you about it.”
“That schoolhouse had a new broom
last term, and water pail term boloro
last I” said tho young director emphati¬
cally.
And Mr, Larkin took a discomfited
leave.
The next Sunday evening tho young
man, sitting ia tho pew of a small
wooden church with his mother, and al¬
lowing his eyes to rove about during the
rather long sermon, suddenly discovered
a new face, and sat studyiug it for the
remain dtr of tho evening,
It was as Jhat of a young girl—not a re¬
markably pretty girl, Lut fair and fresh
and innocent, with a bright intelligence
in-her dark eyes and a sweetness in her
full lips.
“Who is she?” was the first question
after Hie services were concluded ad¬
dress^ asij. happened, to little Mr.
•Larkin, who had come in late,
T *That?” tlpo latter asked in astonish*
ment. “Why, that’s our teacher
that’s Moilio San born 1 I am waiting to
take them home.”
Steve Tenney found himself wishing
quite frequently after that that the new
teacher would como to him about the
broom and water pail.
Not that he should furnish them if he
found that they were not needed, but he
felt that he should not object to an in¬
terview with the school teacher.
He even mentioned tho subject to Mr.
Larkiu carelessly when ha met him one
day.
“Well, you see,” was the response,
“she sort of hates to come to you. The
way you felt about her having the
school has got all around town, and I
s'pose she’s heard of it. She can't help
what her father was, Molly can’t, and
she’s real sensitive.”
The young man looked disturbed.
That afternoon he loft his work at an
early hour—not, however, admitting to
himself his purpose in doing so—and
strolled down tho street, turning off—
but he persuaded himself that it was
not intentional—in the direction of tho
school house.
“I might as well go in and see about
that broom and water pail,” ho said to
Mmsclf when ho stoed opposite the
little hare-looking building.
And he went in accordingly.
The little teacher looked considerably
startled when she opened the door to
him. She dropped the spelling book
she held, and her voice was hardly
steady as she expressed her gratification
at seeing him.
Evidently. Steve reflected, some idiot
had pointed him out to her at church
the other evening. He sat down ia a
front seat feeling unpleasantly ogreish.
She was hearing the last spelling
class. How pretty she looked, standing
there in her blue calico dress and white
apron. What a sweet voice she had,
though putting out “hon, men, pen,”
to a lot of fidgeting youngsters could
hardly show it to tho best advantage.
When the class was dismissed, and
the last small stuient had rushed
whooping down the street, the teacher
and the young director stood looking at
each other with some awkwardness.
“I thought I’d come in,” said Stove at
Mat, apologetically, “and see if any¬
thing is needed.”
Ha did not mention the fact of Ms
being some six weeks late in the per¬
formance of Ms duty.
The girl dropped her eyes timidly.
‘‘I—don’t think so,” she murmured.
“What a brute she must tMak mel"
Stcvo reflected, with some self-disgu3t.
j where He the turned broom carelessly stood. to the corner
‘'Isn't this pretty far gone!’’ ho said,
with a conscience-stricken glanco at its
stubby end.
And the little teacher nodded.
“Your water pail seems to leak,” tho
director went on, indicating tho empty
bucket and the wet floor.
“Yes,” the girl assented.
“I’ll see that you have new ones,”
Steve concluded.
And he was rewarded by a grateful
glance from tho teacher’s soft eyes as
she took her hat Irom its nail.
He took her lunch basket from her
hand as they started away together,and
having taken it, could hardly surrender
it short of Larkin's gate.
He was a little reluctant to surrender
it even then. For their first awkward¬
ness had quite worn off; their walk had
been far from unpleasant, and they 1 "
were feeling very well acquainted.
He walked home in an agreeable ab¬
sorption, repeating to himself tho things
she had said and recallingher pretty
way of saying them.
Ho did not pause to consider that it
was old John S inborn’s daughter ofe
whom he was thinking; ho was onty v
conscious that she was a bright young ;
girl, whom it was charming to look at
anil listen to. ■
Ilis pleasant mood was rudely inter¬
rupted by little Larkin, who dropped
in that evening.
“Lyme Doty couldn’t 'have the
school,” ho observed, with a chuckle ,V
“but it looks as though he was going
to have tho teachorl”
“You don’t mean to toll me,” said
Steve, warmly, “that she’d have any¬
thing to do with him?”
Mr. Larkin stared. What could
Steve care with whom old Johu Baa
born’s daughter had to do?
“Well, Lyme s a good steady fellow.”,
“Humph I” was the.«c|iiM
young man mused long and
4 When his visitor Was g'dne,' a) id
k to bed with a lighter heart, hav
ing come to a firm conclusion.
Whou tho pew teachor closed school
the next Friday night she was feeling
rather worn out, as she was apt to feel
at the end of the week; nor .did the
prospect of the four miles’ walk home
serve to cheer her.
She locked the door and started down
tho path with a sigh.
A neat littlo buggy was coming
briskly up tho road. Molly gave a start
as the driver pulled up tho horse and
sprang to the ground.
It was the young director, and he was
coming toward her.
“I won’t make any excuse, Mis3 San¬
born,” he said, with a humorous solem¬
nity. “I won’t say I’m going over the
riveron business, and happened to think
you might like to ride. The truth is
that it’s a carefully laid plot. “Will you
be an aider and abettor?”
The littlo teacher laughed apprecia¬
tively as he helped her into tho buggy.
“i must stop at Mr. Larkin’s and
leave my dinner pail,” she said 'de¬
murely.
Mr. Larkin was standing at the front
gate. He stood staring at tho young
director as tho latter assisted the teach¬
er to tho ground and sat down on tho
horse block waiting for her.
"Lyme Doty was hero after Molly,
just now," he said gaspingly. “Isent
him down to the school house.”
“We met him,” said Steve. “You
see,” he added, making a bold attempt
at carelessness, but speaking neverthe¬
less, in a shamefaced w ly, and avoid¬
ing the littlo man’s eyes. “You see, I
feel as though it’s my bound en duly to
keep Lyme Doty away from her. Pure
impudence, his hanging around her that
way.”
The little teacher came tripping back
and the young director’s buggy
whirled away in a cloud of dust.
i. Steve Tenney’s taking Molly home
in his buggy,” said Mr. Larkiu, joining
his wife in the kitchen, and sinking
d;.zodly into a chair. “I guess the
world’s coming to an end 1"
“Steve Tenney ain’t a fool," his wife
responded practically. “I knew he’d
get over that ridiculous notion of Ms—
and especially after ho’d seen Molly.”
“Says he’s doing it from a sense of
duty,” said Larkin, chuckling slowly as
tho humor of the situation dawned upon
him. “Wonder how far bis sense of
duty will take him?”
“I shoudn’t said be surprised at any¬
thing!” Mrs. Larkin mys¬
teriously.
The Larkins—and, perhaps, Lyme
Doty—were the only people who were
surprised when the new teacher gave up
the school at the end of the term and
was quietly married to the young di¬
rector.
The chairman of the School Board is
wondering Times. over It yet.—[Hartiord
TRAINING ANIMALS.
'A
Qualities Requisite in Training
Dumb Brutes.
Acrobatic Dogs, Bibulous Coats
and Singing Geese. ,
During the recent dog show, says the
lYashiigton Star, a troupe of perform¬
ing dogs attracted much attention.
Professor J. W. H.impton, the owner
and trainer of the performing dogs,
when questioned by the reporter about
dogs and his method of training
them, said: “This business of mine is
ono of tho most interesting in tho
Few aro in it, for the simple
that few people possess the
of imparting knowledge to dumb
’animals, Sjino folks might try to train
forever and accomplish nothing.’’
“What quali.iss mint a man possess
order to be a good trainer?” asked
reporter.
, “In the first place,” said tho Profes
or, “much decision of character, a
(trong feasant will-power, and a cheerful,
voice. Of all things the will
plays |y the most important part. It is
its use that animals may bo most
’easily trained.”
j ,»“How do you commonco to train ani
itaals? ’ asked the reporter.
“Taking a dog a year old, for in
I first teach him to mind. This
take six and even ten lessons,
jbut don’t start out to train a dog before
teach him to mind you. After ho
you are his master and
be obeyed, commence to teach him
sit up . Hold him ia the corroct
again3t the waU( show him what
cn wtmt done, and concentrate your
upon Ms doing it. Whoa he has
to sit up, try him standing on
hind legs. This will come very
to him. Then comes the waltz,
find that very hard, but persever¬
|pUsh and judicious training will accom
even that. Teaching him to jump
the next thing and supplement this
|pith leaping, if ho bealargedog. Now,
are a great many people, con¬
tinued the professor, who try to teach a
dog to jump by holding a piece of meat
on tho other side of a cano and bidding
the dog to get it. That’s wrong and
will ruin a good dog ia a littlo while.
If you want to train a dog to jump,
show him what you want him to do, and
by a little patience you will see him
perform the trick with oaso and pleas¬
ure. When a dog goes through his
part of the programme in a sluggish
manner it is only a question of a few
days when bo will shirk it altogether.”
“You train monkeys also, don’t you?”
asked the reporter.
“Yes,” said the Professor, “monkeys,
geese, cats, goats, dogs, rats—in fact, I
can teach almost everything.”
“How about monkoys; are they hard
to train?”
“Well, yes. There are a great many
people who think that monkeys are very
easy to train, but that is a mistake.
They will probably do what you want
them two or three times all right, but
they soon forget * These monkoys,”
continued tho Professor, “are great
drunkards. This one," pointing to a
wee bit of one clinging to the clown
dog's tail, “is drunk even now."
The reporter looked, and sure enough
the little fellow had a strange glare in
his eyes, and was trying his best to dis¬
locate the chain that bound Mm to the
box.
“But the greatest drunkards iu the
animal world,” sai.l the Professor, “aro
goats. I havo one that ii a very good
performer, knowing how to count, stand
up, jump through fire and do many
other tricks, but he knows how to drink
beer better than anything. But come
this way and I will show you the great¬
est trained animal ever known.” /
The Star man followed and in a pri¬
vate room saw a full grown goose strid¬
ing around. Tho Professor was greeted
with a series of discordant cries, The
goose was once a wild one and shot in
Canada. The Professor passing bought
her and took her to the theatre where
he was giving an exhibition, It was
hero tho thought of training her first
presented itself and in less than six
weeks, old “Moutry”—that’s her name
—could count, add, subtract, multiply,
divide, tell the day of the week, hour,
in fact, could do almost anything with
figures.
“Her greatest aei, ! ‘- said the Profes¬
sor, “is singing. I claim that this goose
can sing a song, giving tho proper pitch
and I’ll prove it."
Taking the goose he placed him upon
a small stool and gave the key. In
stantly the goose throw up her head and
quacked out the air cf “Over the Fence
Is Out.” There as as a cat that followed
the goose all around the room and when
the reporter inquired abcut her accom¬
plishments, the Professor said:
"Pm just training her. I am going
to try to teach her to sing, and then by
a few additions have a chorus of ani¬
mals, Any one," said tho Professor,
“can trald a dog—that is, to a certain
extent” i
“How?” queried the scribe .
“Procure your dog. If possible, pick
out one that iu your judgment is intel¬
ligent You can easily do this by look¬
ing him in the eyes. Teach him, as I
have told yoii, to know and realize that
you are his master and must be obeyed.
The rest will follow. Don’t whip him
unless he deserves it, and don’t speak
harshly, and, above all, don't over¬
train him. The best of dogs have been
ruined this way.”
. f Prosperous Colored Meii.
Thore are probably over 100 colored
men In Washington who are worth over
$25,000 each, fifty worth $10,000 each
and nearly 1000 who pay taXia on $5000.
George W. Williams, ex-member of tho
Ohio Assembly, and author of a history
of the colored race, is said to be worth
$40,000. Fred Douglas has $300,000.
Johu F. Cooke, until recently tax col¬
lector of tho District of Columbia, him
self pays taxes now oa $250,000. Johu
M. Langston, formerly United States
Minister to Hayti, is reputed to be
worth $75,000. John Lynch of Missis¬
sippi, who was the temporary chairman
of tho Chicago Convention iu 1884, is
very wealthy and owns a fine planta¬
tion in Mississippi. Ex-Congressman
Smalls, who is now contesting the seat
occupied by Colonel Elliott, has also ac¬
cumulated quite a fortune. Dr. Gloster,
who died a few years ago, left $1,000,
000; the wealth of his son-in-law was
estimated at $150,000. John X. Lewis,
of Boston, makes the clothes of tho
Beacon Hill dudes and does a yearly
business, it is said, of over a million
dollars. Ho was once a slave, and
ragged and bare-footed, followed Sher¬
man and his troops in their march to
the sea. Cincinnati has a colored fur¬
niture dealer whoso check is good any
day Tar $35,-OW, although ‘thirty yews
ago he was a Kontucky slave. The
late Robert Gordon, of Cincinnati,
owned a largo number of four-story
residences at tho timo of his death.—
[Now York Tribune.
How a Barber Lost a Finger.
The only curious episode that I now
think of that ever occurred in my own
dealings with a barber came about
through my observing that the knight
of the razor who was at work on me had
lost tho index finger on his right hand.
I could not help admiring the dexterity
with which ho handled the tools of his
trade despite the loss, and, observing
my attention directed to his mutilated
hand, he vouchsafed an explanation.
“I cut that off,” he said.
“How, by accident?”
“No, I meant to. It is the trigger
finger. I was drafted into the army and
cut it off to avoid tho service. It didn’t
work though. Tho trick had been
tried too often. They took to training
men to use the second finger. Some of
them cut that off too, but I couldn’t
spare another, so I ran away and came
to America. No, I don’t miss it now
much, and I don’t care if I can’t go
back. This is a pretty good place and
the work isn’t hard. Thank you, sir.
Next I—[Worcester Spy.
An Attorney’s Huso.
"How much will you give me for this
atlas of this city?” asked a Buffalo at¬
torney as he walked into a second-hand
book store and handed tho owner the
book named. “’Taia’t worth much,”
answered the dealer, as he turned over
the leaves with an air of assumed indif¬
ference. “There’s no demand for ’em.
I bought one last evening and it's out¬
side now. There’s no demand for ’em
at ail, and I shall think it is a good sale
if I get $1 for the one I have now.”
“All right, here’s your good sale. This
is tho one you had outside,” gayly
answered the lawyer, as he threw down
a silver dollar and skipped out of the
stoie before the disconcerted proprietor
could interpose an objection. “I had
been hunting for that atlas for months
and would have given $15 rather than
not got it," remarked the attorney as he
gleefully exMbtted his purchase.—[Buf¬
falo Express.
His Own Fault.
“This is about the slimmest dinner I
ever sat down to,” he said as he sur
veyed the table; “butls’pose I ought
to make certain allowances.”
“Yes, John,” replied his wife;
you would make certain allowances you
would have no occasion to quarrel with
your food.”—[Harper’s Bazar.
NO. 29.
Origin of the Tides.
The moon, a lady robed in white
Roee o’er the bosom of the sea.
And whispered, “Take mel by thy might
Embrace me, seize me—set me free
Prom endless bondage to the nightf
The brave sea rose to do her will
And tossed its pale arms high in air.
Its deeps responded with a thrill
That shook eai th’s coasts and islands fail
Tot the pale maid rode higher still.
The mad surge, wrestling with defeat^
Threw foamy kisses high—in vain.
At last it sighed: “Ah! lady sweet.
Thou art too greatl but thou shnlt reign
My queen; my heart shall rise to greet
The daily dancing of thy feet.”
—[America,
* HUMOROUS.
A wicket game—Croquet.
A rising man—Tho aeronaut.
Down in the mouth—Tho tongue.
From pole to pole-—A clothoslinc.
The cheeky raau is one of metal—
Usually brass.
The right to pay taxes has never been
denied woman.
There is nothing like a good bolt for
breaking a deadlock.
The dynamite gun may be said to
have several aims iu life,
A yacht can stand a tack without
swearing, Few men can.
Fly time and tho base ball are very
properly contemporaneous. <1
Two of a Kind: Teachor—“What is
the plural of child?” Boy (promptly)—
“Twins.”
It is absurd to spoak of tho “foot¬
prints of time," when it is well known
that time flies.
The preacher tells you that you
should marry for love, and yot ho often
marries for money,
A woman may not object to a man’s
following her, but she dislikes to bavs
him get on her trail.
Advico to young ladies who are Bet¬
ting their caps: Use percussion caps,
so that the “pop” may bo heard.
Young Man: “Will you give assent
to r ma r T ia , re with your daughter,
sir.” Oldman rmly: “No, sir, not*
cout.” >
Doctor—“Did you take tho rhubarb
I ordered?” Patient—“Yes, sir.”
Doctor—“How did you take it?”
Patient—“In a pie.”
Teacher: “Wliat advantage had the
old Greeks over us, Hans?’’ Hans
(drawing a long breath): “They did
not have to learn Greek.”
Teacher—“Sammy, why do you
write your name S. Smith, Marcher?”
Sammy—"Why, ’came pa writes his J.
Smith, Junior. I was born in March.”
Before you call attention to tho fact
that a pig has no uso for his tail, please
remember that you have two buttons on
on the lower part of your coatthatdon’t
button anything.
Teacher: “Supposing that eight of
you should together have 48 apples, 83
peaches, 56 plums and 16 melons, what
would each of you have?” Pupils (iu
chorus): “The stomachache.”
“Is that all you can give me ma'am,”
pleaded the tramp—“a dipperful of
water?” “Why, no, certainly not,” re¬
plied the womsu with the big heart;
“you can have as many dipperfuls as
you like.”
He was mumbling about tough steak
and coll coffee, aad making himself
generally disagreeable. “Don’t growl
so over your breakfast, John,” said Ms
wife, “nobody is going to take it away
from you."
The Bishop of London has risen to be
a wit. As he was taking leave of a
parishioner with a very largo family,
the lady sail; “But you haven't seen my
last baby." “No,” he quickly replied,
“and I never expect to 1”
“You women are the greatest I” ex¬
claimed Fogg. ‘‘You’ll tramp all over
town just for samples to make a crazy
quilt." “Yes," replied Mrs. F., very
quietly, “and the samples the men
gather through the day make a crazy
head.”
Physician (after consultation)—“I
congratulate you sincerely.” Pationt
(smiling)—“Am I recovering?” Physi¬
cian— “Not oxactly that; but on con¬
sultation we find that your case is en¬
tirely unique, and we have decided to
give your name to the diseaso, if our
diagnosis is confirmed at the autopsy."
Foatherly (making a call): “I sup
pose you will soon be going into the
country, Mrs. Hendricks f’ Mrs. Hen
dricks: “Yea, we leave for tho Gats
kills next wook. Mr. Hendricks will
come up once a month for a day or so.”
Featherly; “Yes, I heard him say he
was looking forward to a pleasant sum¬
mer.”
