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About North Georgia times. (Spring Place, Ga.) 1879-1891 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 11, 1888)
NORTH GEORGIA TIM t n I m j Vol. VIII. New Series. Giving. t There Is no life, however low , Or humble in its birth, That may not, from its store, bestoy Some brightness o’er the earth. ’ Each little blooming wayside flower Tho’ lacking beauty rare, Freely offers all its dower * To make the summer fair. The tiniest star, tho’ far away, Doth send an offering down, And helps by its tremulous, golden ray The brow of night to crown. fhe river hastening to the sea,' v ~ With all its gathered treasured, Yields up its offerings, full and free; .Their worth it never measures. Thus Nature proves in many a way Would The noblest ye receive! rul es^.Iving, Then, by day ay Increase thy store by gl.'hg. —[Helen G. Roberts in Boston Jourt ah A SOLITARY PASSENGER j. The 10.50 train from White Peak 'was lata that snowy February night. v It never was what one would call a pain¬ fully prompt drain, but tonight it was fully fifty minutes behind its usual time and tho telegraph operator had nearly failon asleep behind tho pano of ground glass over which the word “Tickets” was inscribed in a half circle and tow¬ ard which a most inartistically fore¬ shortened hand was depicted as extend¬ ing a gilt finger for tho enlightenment of the general public. Not that the Big Pine telegraph was ordinarily open at-so late an hour as this. Seven o’clock was tho usual period of closing. Nor had Eunico Barlow any cfficial right to tho tall wooden stool behind tho semicircular gilt legend re¬ ferring to “Tickets.” In a manner she had had greatness thrust upon her. Old 'Mr, Petty clove, who represented the majesty of the railway company in this particular eSrly'dusk spot, had gone home ia tho with a raging facial neural id iaxminmon humanity Eunice jbot have refused temporarily to e his position with i(s duties. m silfthco was broken hv WWlrj^oCSa,hiko^fBe throbbing of soine small silver heart. Eunice jumped up, instinctively, obedient to tho call of her autocrat, the telegraph. “A message 1” she thought “And at this time of tho night. Well, won ders will never coase.” A message it was: to Peter Petty¬ clove, station agent at Big Pine sta¬ tion. Defalcation in Home Bank. Detain pas¬ senger on train No. 21. Small, dark, wear¬ ing fur-trimmed coat- Keep in custody un til furtber notice. H. Y. Carter, Chief of Police at White Peak. Almost before sho had deciphered tifese words, Eunico Barlow telegraphed back “All right;' 1 and onco more tho small silver heart left off its tumultuous throbbings. And not until then did thn telegraph operator roalize what a very peculiar position sho was in. All alono at Big Pino Station, and dficially au¬ thorized, in right of her substitution, to arrest a bank defalcator on tho spot 1 Even while sho pondorod on this un¬ expected state of things there was a cu rious thrill and tromble of tho floor beams under her feet; a shrill steam whistle rising above the sustained roar of tho tempest. Tho 10.50, rfficially known as No. 21, was swinging around tho curve. In an instan-t Eunice Barlow was out in tho deep snow of the rudo board plat¬ form with tho lighted lantern in her hand. Tho conductor of the train was not at all surprised to see her there. Ho knew that Peter Pettyclove was old and feeble, and a spirited young female tel¬ egraph operator is rather at her full value in the Big Pine section. Sho triod to signal to him that sho wanted to speak to him, but tho blinding snow drove its shroudliko sheets between them. He smiled and nodded to her in the aggravating way that men havo when they are particularly obtuse, shouted some incomprehensible com¬ ment on tho weather, helped to loosen the brakes, and was an eighth of a mile up the track before Eunice’s lantern tight fell on a single black figure, its hat pulled over its eyes, its form closely buttoned up in—a fur-trimmed over¬ coat. “Is this the station?'’ said a low, well modulatod voice, which gave Miss Bar low the idea that the unhappy gentle¬ man of justice wa3 a gentleman born and bred. “Where aro tho porters? Upon my word” (looking around after a bewildered fashion) “I’m afraid they’vo forgotton to put off my luggage. Isn’t there a firo somowhera here¬ abouts?" Eunice Barlow looked solemnly at him as she opened tho door into the bright, chcorlully lighted littlo station. Yes, tho telegraphed description had been correct. Ho was small and dark, SPRING PLACE. GEORGIA, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 11, 1888. and, poor fellow, he looked as if ho was half frozen to death. But now aroso tho perplexing question, how was she to “detain him?" *’Ycu aro" mistaken, sir,” she said, in answer to his questions. “There aro no porters hero. There is no hotel nearer than the Pine Barrens, four miles away. The agent is detained at home by sick¬ ness, and I am tho. telegraph operator, on duty in his absonco." “dan you tell me, ’’ pleaded tho soli tary passenger, “where I can get a night’s lodging and something to eat? It is six hours sinco wo left the supper station, and I am just recovering from a siege of malarial fever. Surely there must bo some one around hero who could act as my guide." “There is no ono here but me,’’ said Mis3 Barlow, locking the cash draw and preparing to extinguish tho ono reflector lamp that glowed above tho new ar¬ rival's head. But if you choose to go homo with me I daro say my mother will givo you somo supper and a bed. Our house is tho nearest to this place. And tomorrow"—with a somewhat sig¬ nificant pauso—V‘you can bogie a now career." “I’m awfully obliged to you,” said tho gentleman, jumping up with alacrity. But how many, careers per week do theso Westerners count upon? I’ve no objection, for my part, to tho old one continued." Miss Barlow's face remained inexora¬ bly grave. She considered it no part of her duty to countenance flippancy like this. She locked the station, and hung the key on its hooked nail close within tho latticed casement outside, where winds could not hurl it away nor storms disturb it, bofore she sail, 'quietly; “This way, please. The lan¬ tern will light you sufficiently if you are a little careful; otherwise you will find tho way rather steep and .narrow down tho hill. You aro perhaps una¬ ware that a telegram describing your personal appearauco has just como in from the White Peak office?" “A telegram 1 By jovo tjie whole t:,io S 0U N then*" 1 110 s P oke q u 'ckly; there was genu iao dls K Uit and dissatisfaction cx pressed in every feature of his face. “Yes,” responded the telegraph op erntor, “tho whole thing is out Your conjecture is quite correct'* 4» ‘ ‘Does—I bog your pardon, but this is a matter of some importance to me— doos any ono know it besides yourself?" “No.” “I may depond on you?4 with im¬ ploring emphasis. “Yes, you may depend on me.” “Thanks, awfully 1” declared the stranger, with fervor. “You see, it makes it very unpleasant to have those things talked about.” “So I should imagine.” A brief silencs ensued. Eunice was woidering how her strange companion could speak so coolly of “the3o things.” “Was ho utterly dead to all shame?’’ sho thought. The strange companion, in thi meantime, was secretly marvel¬ ling at tho ease and lightness with which this extraordinary girl stepped out through the snowdrifts. “A perfect Amazon,” ho said to him¬ self, “and a pretty one, too. Why doesn’t sho keop talking? I like the timbre of her voice; it's a regular con¬ tralto.” “It seems to me,” observed the young maD, after another interval of silence, during which the crunching of their feet in the snow and the persistent howling of the wind was all that broke the spoil, “(hat they put a great deal of responsi¬ bility on young women in this part of the world.” “A good deal of it is forced upon them, and a good deal they assume themselves,” said Eunice Barlow, com¬ posedly. “I am willing to admit that I havo taken a heavy responsibility on myself tonight. Understand,” added Miss Barlow, “that if I take you home tonight and shelter you, I must have your promises-•’’ “The new career question again 1 I’m blessed if I know what all this means,” gasped tho solitary passenger. “Equivocation is entirely useless,” said Eunice, severely. “You know perfectly well what I mean. I havo given you a chanco for freedom; for what i3 still better, fame and character. Boo to it that this chance does not pass unimproved." “Mad l” muttered tho stranger to himself; “very mad] Entirely a hope¬ less case, I should say. I wonder if there really was a telegram, or if that is merely part of her brain disorder? I wonder if I’d better keep on with nobody knows whither, or cut and run for it, snowstorm and all?” “You bavo basely absconded with your employers’ money,” said Eunico, with tho freezing sternness of idealized justice; “in other words, you aia a bank dofalcator.” “Oh, come, now; won’t you givo a fellow a chancer* uttered her compaa iom “As the school books say ‘Strike, but hear.’ I vo nobody s money bwt my own, and none too much of that. 1 don’t know anything about your banks nor their defalcators. I’vo beou only two weeks in your country and I think its the snowiest climate going. My name is Ernest Tiusallon, and I was to have beon met at the station by CoL Copley of the 400th Cavalry.” Eunico Barlow gave a little shriek of amazoment. “Sir Ernest Tinsallonl' she cried, “The Englishman who was coming out here to hunt buffalo and follow up the lias of the Pine river? But you have alighted at the wrong station; you should have stopped at Pine Barracks, seven miles beyond here. ” “I heartl the conductor bawl out something about pine of one sort or another,” said tho young Britou. "I was dead asleep, and didn't slop to discriminate, and I scrambled off. So I’ve mado a mistake, havo I? But all tho same, it’s awfully good of you to offer to conduct mo to a place of Christ¬ ian shelter.” * ‘And I have made a mistake too," said Eunice with a gasp. “Just before ' your train came in there was a messago wired to Big Pine station—a message to detain a bank robber who was said to be on tho train. I was all alone, but I could havo locked him into tho ticket offico perfectly well. We Western girls aro prepared for any emergency” (with some pride). “But I was sorry for you, you looked so young and innocent; and I determined to givo you one more chance.” “For a now career,” interrupted tho stranger, with a gust of laughter. “The key to tho puzzle! I see it all now. Don’t you know, I was boginning to think you must be a lunatic. And how disagreeably near I came to being locked up, after ail 1 And the bank fellow, whoever ho is, seems to havo got off scot free. Really, now, ifover*a man had a genuine guardian angel, you are one,” he .«ddod, as Eunice led tho way into a pretty little sitting room, all aglow with red carpet and curtains, where a fire of logs burned on tho open hearth and a cosy meal was spread on ■tho tablo. Sir Ernest Tinsalloa slopt in tho spare chamber that night, was called by star¬ light, and breakfasted at 6 o’clock tho next morning with the telegraph oper¬ ator and her mothor, and afterward ac¬ companied her to the Big Pine station, plunging through white masses of snow drift and sliding, school-boy fashion, across tho mirror-like surface of frozen brooks. Mr. Pettyclove was there with his face tied up in a spottodsilk pocket handkerchief. There were also several telegrams awaiting the hand of the op¬ erator. One was from the chief of police at White Peak, stating—rather late, perhaps—that tho bank defalcator had at the eleventh hour and on the very step, so to speak, of the train, sur¬ rendered himself to the local authorities. Thero was another from Col. Colley of the 400th Cavalry, inquiring if anything had been heard at Big Pina station of the missing English baronet who was overdue at tho barracks. “Only think,” said Miss Barlow, with a little shiver, “if I had locked you up in the ticket office all night, what would Col. Copley have said?" “That, under the circumstances, you had done no more than your country expected of you,” returned Sir Ernest. “But, Isay, all this thing was awfully plucky of you, Miss Barlow. I don’t know of an English girl that would have had the courago to go through with it.” “But I haven’t thanked you half enough.” Hi stood holding both her hands, his fresh English face all eager¬ ness. “It is quite unnecessary to say any more," observed Miss Barlow, quietly. “Titero is the telegraph. I am wanted at my post of duty now. Good by, Sir Ernest. I wish you a very pleasant journey.” Sir Ernest Tinsallon went on his way into tho blue, glittering cold of that peerless winter morning, with tho pino trees looking Hike Druids clad in ermino robes, and tho plains all sheeted in level pearls, and Eunice Barlow never saw him more. No, ha did not coma back’ to woo and wod her, as the hero of, an orthodox love talo should havo done. He could not, being already engaged to another young woman in England. But ho sent a superb hampor of game to Mrs. Barlow, in enro of tho telegraph operator at Big Pino station; aud at mtny an English dinner table afterward he told tho story of his midnight adven¬ ture in the wild west. MAKING GLUCOSE. ' The Process of Extracting Honey from Corn< I Crystallized After a Labyrin¬ thine System of Filtering. Tho process of making glucose will bo best understood says -tho Chicago Mail, by following the corn from tho time it enters the factory until it runs out at aspigot a clear, colorless liquid. The shell corn is first soaked for seve¬ ral days in wator to soften tho hull and pregjire it for the cracking process. Tho softened corn is convoyed by elevators to ono of tho higher stories of tho fac¬ tory and shovelled into largo hoppers, from which it passo3 into mills that merely crack the grains without reduc¬ ing them at onco to a fiao meal. Tho cracked grain is then conducted* to a large tank filled with rinsing water. Tho hulls of the corn float at tho top of the water, the germs sink to the bot¬ tom and tho portion of tho grain con¬ taining the starch, becoming gradually reduced to flour by fiiction are hold in solution in tho water. By an yngenious procoss both tho hulls and .e germs aro removed and the flour j ft now hold in solution con¬ tains nothing but starch and gluten. This liquid is then mado to flow over a series of tables, representing several acres in area, and tho difference in the specific gravity of tho two substances causes the gluton and starch to separate without the use of chemicals. ? The gluten is of a goidon-y ellow color and the starch snow white. By tho •time tho gluton has been compfetoly eliminated the starch assumes a plastic form and is collector from tho separat¬ ing tables by wheel barrowfuls and taken, to a drying room, whore it is pre¬ pared as tho starch of commerce or is placed in a chemical apparatus to be converted into glucose. The convor-. yaion is effected by Submitting the starch to the action of a minute percentage of dilute sulphuric acid, which, without becoming a constituent part of tho com¬ pound, produces by its presence merely a miraculous chemical change. This change from starch to glucose is agradud process and has four or five well defined stagos. On'tho addition of the acid tho first change results in the production of what is known to chemists as dextrine. If, at this stago, the acid is neutralized by tho addition of lime water, tho procoss is choked and dextrine is the permanent product. If the procoss is allowed to go on, tho acid, however, works a second change and maltose is tho remit.- Hero tho process can, if necessary, be interrupted by neutralizing tho acid by means of limo water, and for somo purposes in the art of brewing this is sometimes done. The third and important stago in the chemical change wrought by the action results in tho production of glucose,and just here is where tho greatest skill of the chemist is required. Tho product must show by te3t that it responds ex¬ actly to tho chemical formula C6, 1112, 06. By comparing this formula with that of starch, which is CO, H10, 05— that is, six parts of carbon to ton of hy¬ drogen and five of oxygen—it will be seen that tho sulphuric acid has not added to tho starch, but has taken up two parts of hydrogon, and the only gain in tho starch is ono part of oxygon. Tho lime wafer introduced to neutral izo tho acid forms with it a product called gypsum, which can bo removed from the glucoso without leaving any appreciable trace. The fourth stago in the chemical pro¬ cess results in chrystaliziag the liquid, and then (ho product is called grapo sugar. There is a fifth stago in which caramel, or burnt sugar, could be pro¬ duced were it of any commercial value. Tho gypsum, or sulphate of lime, formed by tho neutralizing limo water and sul¬ phuric acid, sinks by gravitation to the bottom of tho vessel and tha supernatant saccharine liquid is drawn off from the top. This is almost pure chemical glu cose, but it is still subjected to a filtering process through bone blrck and refined in tho samo way as cano su »nr ii refined. Tha bone-black has anything bat the appearance of a purifying agent, but possesses tho pe cu iar property of attracting to i< self all coloring matter. The glucose passing through a labyrinthine system f filter ing is drawn eff at spigots in no lower part of tho building, and is ready to bo shipped away in barrels. To givo the glucoso tbo appearance of cauo syrup as well as to impart some of tho char fictcri-tic taste, a small amount of that lyrup is added, to suit tho fancy of buyo.s. To make grape sugar tho glucose is j dried in rapidly revolving vossols, from which much of tho moisture oscapes bv*^ virtue of tho centrifugal force. Neither the glucoso nor the grapo sugar is uso-l for domestic purposes, although* cither one is about two thirds as sweet as the sweetest capo sugar. Glucoso is chi* fly used for fermenting purposos, and of Into years has bt&Ame invaluable to tho brewer iu making beer and pale ales. It is also largely used i.\ mixtures with cane syrups and molasses, and is esteemed more wholesomo than tho cane product, Which is at best only a side product or residue in the manufac¬ ture of cauo sugar. yt Kerosene nn Antodoto for Strychnine. A special dispatch to tho Cincinnati Enquirer from Providence, R. I.,records the discovery under peculiar circum¬ stances of an antodoto for poisoning by strychnine. One Benjamin Johnson, for somo reason or no reason, ha tily de¬ cided to end his existence and swallowed tou grains of strychnine. Im nod lately ho rogrotted tho rash art and yelled to his wife for help. Mr'. Jdi ison,though a nervous little woman, did not havo spasms or hysterics, neither dil sho lose her breath. She bethought herself of' he oil can, with its couplo of quarts of freshly-purchased illuminating fluid. When Johnson was almost i:i the iliroes of death Mrs. Johnson sciz d tho kero¬ sene can and the spout was thrust well down into tho throat. The oil flawed rapid y, and Johnson wns a very sick man. A quart of oil had been swallowed, but not without the greatost dotsrmina tion on tho wife’s part. “That will not hurt you," said Mrs. Johnson, “and you know you buy it to drink just tho same. That's ju-t what they sell you, but I'd give you tho other if I had it in tho house.” Mrs. Johnson workc 1 hard to get tho remaining quart into her husband’s stomach, but lie was filled to the teeth. In a few moments kerosene and poison boilod out from Johnson’s frame, and when physicians arrived there was little to do hut observe tho telling work of Mrs. Johnson. Sho had saved his life, for the koroseno antidote worked well. Mrs. Johnson 3«id that some yoars ngo sho liv.d in tho lumber region of Pennsylvania, and men bitten by. snakes had been filled with plain koroseno instead of whisky, tho usual antidote in such cases, and uone to her knowledge had ever died. Tlie Congressional Bathrooms. Tho coolest placo is downiu tho bath¬ rooms in tho lowest basement of the Capitol, soys a Washington letter to the Philadelphia Telegraph. Both the Senate and tho IIouso are provi lod with the most perfect bathing facilities. TUo bathrooms aro well patronized. Tho tubs aro spacious, and of cool, white marble. There are attendants to pre¬ pare the baths and to rub the statesmen down on to wipe thorn off, if they do siro it. Scented soaps, bay rum and cooling toilet wnters aro at their com¬ mand. They can get in a tub of cold water and soak for an hour if they de¬ sire. They can evon have ice in tho water if they desire it. They havo tho comforts of the world at tlioir command. It was under such conditions that Mr. Reagan took his famous batb, from which ho emerged, wrapped in a sheet, to vote for tho Morrison bill during tho last Congress. The overworked Repre¬ sentatives and ovorfatted Senators find a luxury in this. I am told of ono Sen¬ ator who sits in tho bath and road;. Tha men in charge of those baths are kopt busy turning on and eff tho water, changing towels and distributing lo¬ tions from morning until night, and even during tho night when thoro is what is called an “evening session” — a deceptive term which denotes a ses¬ sion which may close at 10 o’clock or 1 in tho morning. Jullen the Famous Chef. Julienne soup was invented by tho famous Julion, who camo to Boston about tho time of tho French Revolu¬ tion, and established tho “Restorator" on Milk street. He is also memorable as the inventor, or at least the instigator, of tho idea of soiling food in hermeti¬ cally saalod cans. After his roturn to Franco, at tho restoration, ho sold his right or patent to a noted restaurant in tho French capital, and tho new pro prietors sold tho soup in cans to all na tioas. In lending tho stairs Bobby’s foot dipped and he and tha coal hod which ha wa8 cnr J ia S, rattled to the bottom, “Here, hero, ’ shouted tho old man from tho parlor, “what’s up out there 1" “Nothings up, Pa, shouted back Bobby,who wasn’t much hurt. “Every thing’s down 1"—[Epoch, NO. 36. Boll It Down. Whatever you have to say, my friend, Whether witty, or grave, or gay— j Condense as much as ever you can, And say in the readiest way; And whether you write on rural affairs, Or particular things in town, Just a word of kindly advice, my friend— Boil it down. Forjf you go splattering over a page, When a couple of lines would do, Your butter is spread so much, you see. That the bread looks plainly through. So when you have a story to tell, And would like a little renown, To make nuite sure of your wish,my frlenS Boil it down. When writing an article for the press, Whether proso or verse, just try To utter your thoughts in the fewest words, And let it be crisp and dry; And when it is finished, and you supp a It is done up exactly brown, Just look it over once more, and the Boil it down. For editors do not like to print An artielo lazily loug, And the general reader does not care For a couple of yards of song. So gather your wits in the smallest spaos, If you’d win tho author's crown, And every time that you write, my friend— Boil it down. —[Scottish Farming World. humorous A hot ball—Tho sun. A building lot—Tho beavsrs. ./ A dry Dac.—A thirsty physician. It may sound paradoxical, but fogs never would bo mist. Uneasily lies tho tongue that hasn’t tho evidence to back it. Tho music of the spheres—Tho sound of colliding billiard balls. To make a long story short—Send it to tho editor of a newspaper. Tho French aro excellent judges of horso-flesh—When it’s cooked 1 “It’s perfect angel of house,” said ft* a a Bhe. “All wings, I suppose,” suid he. A barber's school is talked of in Boston. Of course only little shavers will go thero. - A small boy, required to write a sen¬ tence containing tho word “hominy," produced tho following: “Ilominy mar* bles have y.ou?" Miss Branigan: Don’t you think Mr. Donovan has a very sensitive mouth? Miss McBerrin (blushing violently): How should I know? Oldboy says that when four women are walking abreast on tho pavoments they will break ranks for nothing ex¬ cept a man—with a paint pot. “How doos tho new girl striko you?" asked a husband. “Sho hasn’t struck mo yot,” answered tho wife meekly. “But she has done almost everything else.” Tho reflection of an anarchist in a picture gallery; IIow exasperating to think of so much canvas wasted while thousands of poor wretches aro unable to afford more than ono shirt to their backs. “What do you publish a paper for, Td like to know?" sarcastically inquired an irato politician, tackling a country editor. “For $2.00 a year, ia advance," responded the editor, “and you owe mo for four years." A littlo pamphlet called “Humour in ye Sixteenth Century” shows that ye joker of that period borrowed a great deal of his wit from yc humorist of yo nineteenth century, without giving a particle of credit. Member of local baseball club—“Kin you tell mo what that load 'r logs is fer, that coma up on your train ?’’ Captain of league team—“Thom’s our bats.” Member of local team—‘ Say, boss, we’ll forfeit th’ gamcl” “What is the price of that tea?” sha askod of the corner grocar. “Ono dol¬ lar ’narf, marm,” was tho response. “Is not that too steep?" was tho next question; and tha c. g. replied: “Yes, marm; that’s what they do with it." Young ladies are now filling “head al¬ bums.” Each gentleman is asked for a “shape" of his head as given by a hat conformateur in a hat store, and it ia pasted into an elegantly-bound scrap¬ book. It is a new way tho girls have of getting a head of tho boys. Mrs. Lenox Hill, Jr. t Er—doesn't it seem to you, Henry, as if thero was gomtfthing I had forgotten in making this pound-cake? Mr. Lenox Hill, Jr. (crit¬ ically): Well, yes; if it only had a handle, you know, it would bo easier to pound with. She—No, Mr. DeDood, I cannot be your wHb, but I will bo a sister to you. Mr. Do Dood: Ah, thanks. So glad, don't you know. You aro tho forty seventh sister and tho season isn’t half over. And Chollia Slim has only get j eighteen, don’t you know,
