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i NORTH GEORGIA TIMES mm
8.’«!' GARTER, | Proprietors.
Meadows of Rest.
[ retaember the beautiful meadows
And their sweet streams purling clear,
With ■ flowers besprent, where my young
days were spent,
Where the birds their nurslings rear,
I was sheltered then in the dear home nest,
Where my feet turned oft to the meadows of
-te. rest
I remembar a grave in those meadows,
Where slumbered a laughing-eyed boy;
Death found him at play, he lured him
away,
And with him went half our joy.
' Wa moulded the turf that his feet had
pressed
And kept his grave green in the meadows of
, rest.
I remember a silver-haired father,
Who walked by the river wave
To watoh the reeds grow, or the sweet
waters flow,
■ Or to muse by that little grave.
He has passed long ago to the home he loved
best,
To the infinite peace of God’s meadows of
rest.
I wonder if green are those meadows,
If purling and clear are the streams,
If the moon shines as bright, if the stars
give such light
As they did in my youth’s happy dreams.
Oh, angels of destiny, heed my request:
Give me back, give me back my dear mead¬
ows of rest.
—Mrs. M. L. Rayiu.
The Hero of Bunker HilL
BT JAMES PARTOS.
It is still a little uncertain who was
in command of tho American troops at
the battle of Bunker Hill. There was
very little commanding done, it is true,
and it is of no great consequence wheth¬
er that little wai done by Colonel Pres¬
cott orby General Putnam. But there
is.no doubt that the favorite here of the
day was, and is, Joseph Warren, who
had the strange destiny to be thirteen
years a Boston physician, then three
days a major-general, and three hours a
soldier in the ranks. He was in truth a
most gallant and devoted spirit, worthy
of the oause to which ho gave his life.
As the Seventeenth of June ap¬
proaches, paisers-by read with renewed
interest a certain inscription on a stono
cottage in Roxbury:
“On this spot stood the house erected
in 1720 by Joseph Warren, of Boston,
remarkable for being the birthplace of
General Joseph Warren, his grandson,
who was killed at the battle of Bunker
Hill, June 17, 1775.”
Another inscription tcstiftoi that
Doctor John Warren, a distinguished
physician, and brother of the general,
was also born in the same “man^jon. ”
The writer of the latter inscription
used a very inappropriate, word when
he called the modest abode of the War
tens a mansion. A lady descended from
the hero, still living in Boston, has a
painting of the old house. It was a
farm-house of the plainest possible de¬
scription, two stories high, With noth¬
ing largo about it except the huge chim¬
ney in the middle. It was surrounded
by a picket fence of the simplest kind,
and had near the front of it a most un¬
compromising shed.
It was the house of a Yankee farmer
of the last century, who raised vegetables
and fruit for the Boston market,—a
skilful, enterprising, prosperous farmer,
who introduced an apple which for a
century boro his name, being called the
“Warren russet.”
The British soldiers in Boston taunted
Joseph Warren with having been “a
bare-legged milk-boy,” and nothing is
more probable than that all the four
Warren boys, each in his turn, carried
milk around for their father.
If they did not carry milk for their
father, they probably did for their
mother.
When Joseph was a boy of fourteen,
ft terrible event took place upon the
Warren farm. On a day in October,
1755, when the farmers thereabouts
were gathering their later apples, the
mother of this family sent her youngest
ion, John, a little boy just able to do
luch an errand, to call his father and
two laboring men to dinner. On his
way to the orchard, the little fellow,
only two years and three months old,
law the two laborers carrying homeward
his father’s dead body. He had fallen
from a ladder while gathering apples,
bad broken his neck, and had died in
stantly. Young the V
as boy was 2 this fearful
sight made an impression on his mind
Which the lapse of time did not weaken,
and he spoke of it with feeling when he
was an old man. The father thus sud
denly taken from them, was such a man
as we should naturally., expect the father
of Joseph Warren to be. One short
sentenco which he uttered in his lifo
SPRING PLACE, GA., THU)RSDAY t AUGUST 22, 1889.
has been recorded. Turning his eye
toward his eldest son, Joseph, ho said
one day, “I would rather a son of mine
were dead than a coward.
At this time Joseph Warren, fourteen
years age, was about ready to enter
Harva^L College. The mother, a wise
and vigorous woman, managed the estate
so well that no change had to be made
in the life of the boys, and their educa¬
tion went on in the way the father
had planned before his death.
In due time Joseph Warren gradu¬
ated; then spent a year as master of the
Roxbury Grammar School; then studied
medicine; and by the time he was
twenty-three years of ago ho was a full
fledged Boston doctor, getting into a
good practice, and married a young
lady, Miss Elizabeth Ilooton, whom the
newspaper of that week described as the
“only daughtar of the late Mr. Richard
Hooton, merchant, deceased, an accom¬
plished young lady with a handsome
fortune.”
But now came'on the troublous times
preceding the Revolutionary War, and
every man had to choose which party he
would servo. The fashionable society
of Boston, for the most part, sided with
the king. Doctor Warren, from the
first rumor- of the Stamp Act, adopted
the cause of his country, and did this
with decision and openness.
His politics excluded him from many
of the wealthy families of Boston, which
led one of the Tory doctors of the town
to say, “If Warren were not a Whig, he
might soon be independent and ride in
his chariot.”
His practice, however, was extensive
and sufficient. When John Quincy
Adams was an old man ho liked to tell
of • a service rendered him by Doctor
Warren when he was a little boy of
seven. It was Doctor Warren’s skillful
treatment that saved him from losing
one of his forefingers, after it had been
badly injured.
The doctor attended all the best pa¬
triot families, and thus enjoyed the ex¬
perience which pooplo usually do who
embrace noble and unpopular causes;
they escape the boros and enjoy the best
society.
General Putnam, in 1774, drove in
from his parish in Connecticut, a flock
of one hundred and thirty sheep as a
free gift to the town of Boston after the
closing of the port. It was Doctor
Warren who took the old hero home to
his house, whore ho had a continuous
reception for some days.
When the British troops came to Bos¬
ton, the mere sight of them was almost
too much for Doctor Warren’s philoso¬
phy. Ono day ho overheard a group of
officers say, as he passed, “Go on, War¬
ren, you will soon come to tho gallows."
Dr. Warren walked up to them and
said, in a quiet tone, “Which of you
uttered those words?” They continued
their walk without giving him any re¬
ply.
On the great day of Lexington three
of the Warren brothers were in the
midst of the strife, * Joseph, Samuel and
John. Dr. Warren was busy with his
patients, when a messenger brought the
news to him of what had taken place
on Lexington Green.
Giving his patients in charge to an
assistant, ho rode toward the scene of
action, crying to a friend as he passed,
“They have begun it I That, either
party can do. And we will end it.
That, only one can do.”
During the chase of the British troops
from Lexington he served sometimes as
surgeon and sometimes as a citizen
cheering on tho soldiers. A British
musket ball struck a pin out of his hair
close to his right ear.
It was said of him, at the time, that
wherever the danger was the greatest,
there Warren was sure to be seen. When
he resumed his duties as a physician, he
made up his mind that, if it came to a
fight, he would not offer his services as
surgeon, but as a soldier, and he made
known this purpose to his friends.
Accordingly the Legislature of Massa¬
chusetts, over which he presided, elected
him, June 14, 1775, “Second Major
General of the Massachusetts Army.’’
Three days after occurred the ever
memorable battle of Bunker Hill. As he
had not yet received his commission, he
was not in military command; he was
not a military man; but as soon as he
knew the intention of General Artemas
Ward, who commanded tho army, he
declared his resolve to share the fortune
of the day at the frpnt.
His brother members of the Legisla¬
ture endeavored to dissuade him, es¬
pecially his intimate friend and room
mat & El bridge Gerry, who entreated
him not to risk a life so valuablo to. *ho
State at that moment He only
in reply the Roman maxim, “it is
nr:
dear Doctor Warren could not be ro
strained by the entreaty of his breth
ren.”
And so, on that burning hot summer’s
day, after toiling through the night in
the service of his country, he did not
appear in the chamber at Watertown,
when tho hour arrived for opening the
session of the legislature. He reached
the redoubt on Bunker Hill a few min¬
utes before tho first assault of tho British
column.
To General Putnam, he said: “I am
here only as a volunteer. Tell me where
I can be most useful." To Colonel
Prescott, who was at the front line: “I
shall take no command hero. I come as
a volunteer with my musket to serve
under you, and shall be happy to learn
from a soldier of your experience.”
His mere arrival in tho redoubt was
equal to a large re-enforcement of mon.
The soldiers cheered him, for their was
no man then in Boston toward whom
they had so cordial a feeling. The ac¬
tion lasted about an hour and a half,
and during tho whole of it Warren
served with his musket, as he hod said
he would, cheering the men around him
by his coolness and cheerful confidence
When at length the failure of ammu¬
nition compolled a retreat, he was not
among tho crowd who ran out of the
redoubt, but, as Colonel Prescott
remembered, he took long steps, and
parried the thrusts made at his person
with his sword. Tho final struggle was
half hidden in a cloud of dust, during
which, as contemporary tradition re¬
ports, he was • recognized by a British
officer, who wrested a musket from a
soldier's hand and shot him.
Ho fell doad . about sixty yards from
the redoubt, his hand mechanically cov¬
ering tho wound in tho back of his head.
It was not far from this very hour,
uMwUt fuul v b-Wil i.1 ill O- IU UirUuuU, LliUi
the people of Salem first heard the can¬
nonade from the direction of Boston,
fourteen miles distant, and, as darkneis
came on, the light from burning Charles¬
town became visible there.
Doctor John Warron, brother of the
hero, was then just beginning practice
at Salem. He heard the cannon; he
saw the light of tho conflagration; nnd
soon camo news, imperfect and con¬
fused, of what had taken place that day
near Boston, ne heard that great num¬
bers had fallen, and that his brother
Joseph had probably been in tho engage¬
ment.
After a few hours’ rest he started at
the first s'roak of dawn, about two in
tho morning, and rode to Medford,
where he received the certain nows that
his brother was amon'g the missing. All
that day, and for several days, he went
about Cambridge and adjacent places
inquiring for his brother; sometimes
hearing that ho was alive and well;
sometimes that he had been wounded;
and, sometimes, that he had fallen on
the field.
He was almost beside himself with
anxiety and apprehension. One day, in
his overmastering desire for news of
his brother’s fate, ho pressed by a senti¬
nel, who gave him a sharp thrust with
his bayonet, inflicting a wound, the
scar of which he carried to his grave.
Many days passed before he learned
to a certainty that his brother had fallen
dead upon the field, and had been bur¬
ied where he fell.
Nine months after, when the post on
Bunker Hill was abandoned by the
British, Dr. John Warren, accompanied
by his brother Eben, was guided by an
Englishman to his brother’s burial
place, from which ho was disinterred,
and carried in solemn procession, with
military and masonic escort, to the
King’s Chapel in Boston.
Many interesting relics of Joseph
Warren are preserved. One is a small
psalm book taken out of his pocket by i
British soldier on the field. His sword
is still in the possession of his family,
and there is some reason to believe that
the very bullet which pierced his brain
has been identified. His father has
living descendants, and the family ranks
among the inost distinguished yrMassa
chusetls, after having given several
highly accomplished members to the
medical profession.— Youth'» Compan
ion.
About this time of year the family
woodpile becomes so distasteful to the
small boy .that he thinks seriously of
shipping as a pirate—preferring the sea
to the saw.
1$ -* 53 PLUMES.
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»*«
Articles 01 Adornment
-
The Work and Wages of 3000
Girls in the Metropolis,
Many delicate fingers ply dainty trades
down in the old French quarter below
"Washington square. There is none
daintier than feather curling. Could
the ladies that adorn themselves with
ostrich foathers see the plumes before
they have passed through the deft hands
of tho girls that prepare them, the fu¬
ture wearers would, perhaps, look else¬
where for ornament. All the world
knows that ostrich feathers come from
South Africa. Perhapi all tho world
does not know that feathers from the
wild ostrich are seldom or never seen in
the markets of Europe and America.
The cheaper plumes in their natural
slate look more like tho tail-feathers of
reddish-brown turkeys. Some aro white,
some black and others gray, brown and
yellow. The commonest are a dirty
gray, tho rarest perhaps black. They
reach the factories from the Custom
House in large bundles, each bundle be¬
ing made up of a small bunch tied with
stout twine. The first process is cleans¬
ing. This is done with hot water. They
come out much bedraggled, and arc
uglier than ever when dried.
They next pass to tho dyers. These
aro men mostly from France and Ger
. many.' Dyeing is a costly and delicate
process. Even the block feathers must
be dyed, for they do not have in their
natural state a uniform hue. The white
feathers are bleached by a chemical pro¬
cess. After bleaching and dyeing comps
steaming. This spreads tho bedraggled
plumes into some semblance of tho
graceful form which they are to toko on
When they have received tho finishing
touches. Once steamed the feathers are
' 'turned the girls.
over to
A group of feather girls at work is a
pretty sight They sit in long rows on
each side of a narrow table with great
plies of fluffy plumes before them. The
tablo is gay with overy color of the rain¬
bow varied in a dozen shades and tints.
Most of the girls are of American birth,
and every shop has its boautiej. Many
are below 15 years of ago and few aro
abovo 25. Tho tools are simple. The
first process is trimming. This is dono
with small scissors.
It requires great care, for a snip too
much may ruin a costly plume. From
the trimmer the plurno goes to the
sewer. Single plumes are little used
now. Two of equal size are sewed to¬
gether so that the upper side of one is
exposed. The result is a stout double
plume not easily broken. Curling is
the process that brings out the real
beauty of tho plume. This is dono with
a small, dull, crooked knife of steel.
After curling the plume is fluffier than
ever, and its tip droops like the head of
a half-grown fern. So important is this
process that the wholo manufacture is
sometimes called “feather curling.”
Feathers that are not suitable for whole
plumes are cut in two and made into
“tips;" that is to say, the upper part is
sewed on to the lower, so that a grace¬
ful, curling tip alone is seen. These
tips are bunched in threes so as to form
tho emblem of the Prince of Wales.
Delicacy of taste and deftness of hand
are tho qualities necessary to success in
feather curling. Two years will make a
clever girl expert. Once learned the
trade is profitable. In the best days of
the business a skilful woman could earn
from $50 to $70 a week in the busy
season. Even now many women make
from $18 to $25 a week.
From 1880 to 1884 ostrich feathers
were the height of fashion. It was the
period of large hats, and plumes were
.HLjp wjbter and summer. Then over
p5u Jtion cheapened them; they be¬
came commonplace and presently un
, fashionable. For three years they
were out of form, -and stuffed birds,
fancy feathers and what not reigned
h} cime their stead. Two years ago plumes
in again, but this spring they have
again disappeared, and for the first time
in seventeen years artificial flowers are
fashionable. Of the 5000 girls who
oi ce curled feathers in New York scarce¬
ly 3000 have found employment this
season. Next fall, however, a revival
o plumes is expected, and the curlers
w 10 have been working as best they
* c uld at artificial flowers, laea making
a d the like will return to their old
trade. The few ostrich feathers worn
Vol. IX. New Series. NO. 29.
this spring are sage green in accordance
with the prevailing faihion, but it is whis¬
pered in the French quarter that brown,
plumes will wave everywhere next fall.
The Perfume of Flowers.
Boxes of heliotrope, mignonette and
pansies, placed in windows, will sweet¬
en the air of all dwellings.
Tho seamstress and all of tho laboring
classes should have sweet-scented plants
blooming in their windows to keep the
atmosphere fresh and pure, and act as a
disinfectant, We can also uso tho
petals of roses, violets, pinks, tuberoses,
etc., to produce a sweet perfume for the
parlor or boudoir; and by the aid of
modern science it can be very easily
done.
Fill a small, wide-mouthed jar with
ether, and use a glass stopper, dipped
in glycerine, to thoroughly exclude the
air. Fill this jar with tho fresh petals
of any fragrant plant, cut after the dew
is dry; and only the petals should bo
used; but clusters of heliotrope can be
cut off close to the stems. Ether pos¬
sesses the property of taking up the
fragrant particles from flowers, and
every day the old petals must be taken
iut and fresh ones added. Quantities
of flowers are required, but when the
ether is all evaporated, it will leave an
essential oil of the flower, and three or
four drops of it, added to deodorized
alcohol, will give a delicious extract.
All delicious odors can be imprisoned
in deodorized alcohol, which is made
by filtering pure spirits through animal
charcoal or bono black in powder. It
can be used over many times, and a
thick flannel bag, with a wire run
around tho top, will mako a good filter
Fill it with bone black, and pour in the
alcohol, hanging tho bag over a bowl,
so that the liquid will drop into it.
Take jars as described abovo and fill
half full with tho alcohol, and then fill
up with peach leaves, lemon peel, slices
of pineapple, raspberries, cherries, straw¬
berries—indeed, anything from which
you may desire to' extract esscnco, and
you will have as lino an assortment of
essences as the manufacturer can furnish
you.— Household.
The Effect of Thunder on Dogs.
An interesting story was told last
year of a supposed mad dog out in
Litchfield county that was killed be¬
cause of its strango conduct, and after¬
ward it was found to have been only
frightened by the thunder. It had run
12 miles and then takrn to a strango
house, run upstairs, and refused to stir,
and so was shot. It was a Scotch col
lie, and those dogs aro peculiarly sus
ceptiblo to and utterly cowed by thun¬
der.
There is one in thU city not quite so
bright os sunshine in fa r weather that
becomes an ulter imbecile as soon as
tho thunder or even a fire cracker is
heard. Recently,amid the distant rum¬
ble of a far-rway storm, ho laid aside
hii intelligence and ran wildly off lrom
home without it. A long search for
him proved futile, but in a couple of
hours he turned up, all wet and muddy,
at his owner’s office, ready to be escort¬
ed home. On the penitential journey
homeward they met another dog, not
quite so big as this one, and at sight of
the large and ruffled collie, tho strange
dog dropped flat and lay cringing and
trembling, the victim of abject fear, un¬
til tho dog scared by a crack of thunder
had walked proudly by. There are all
sorts of cowards.— Hartford Oourant.
Fen Picture of an Arab Mare.
She was the most beautiful mare I
have ever seen, of pure Najdblood, grey,
with flea bitten spots, eyes too large for
her head, nostrils thin and expanded,
the throat of a game cock, tho hair o
her mane and tail so fine and soft that
the most beautiful woman might have
been proud of such a texture, and her
skin so thin and soft that the thorn
bushes through which I rode her used to
tear it; and after many of my runs
through the jungle I have had her,
bleeding from the thorns, looking as if
she had been practiced upon with a light
sabre. She was what you consider in
England a pony, fourteen hands owe
and one-half inches high; but she was
as broad almost as a dray horse, and her
tail was set up so high that as she moved
about her loose box you could, stoop¬
ing, walk between it and tho ground. I
Her feet were black and hard, vud tho
tendons below her hocks and kneyi were
like harp strings. Add to this that her
her head was so lean that you might
have boiled it without obtaining any
flesh from it and you have a picture of
what this desert horn mare was, Major
Shakespeare. —Horse and Stable.
The Silent Land.
The Silent Land I What undefined da¬
sire
Wakes at these words like to the lambent
fire
Seen over marshland wastes, at dead of
night,
Flickering afar in weird, uncanny flight!
The Silent land, which poots love to name!
Mysterious region, where tho presont trams
Of all that is, beyond our fancy's range, y i
Doth yield itself to supersensual change.
The Silent Land, where, dread as olden
fates,
Vague, sombre shadows guard tha entrance
gates,
And where glide through tho vapor sudden
gleams,
As ’twere a spectral day’s sunsotting beams. *
The Silent Land, whereon that wan sun
glow
Spreads, as a red moon-ray o'or the plains of
snow,
Upon which birch troes lean across ths
tracks,
Where wolves are wont to race in famished
packs.
The Silent Land, a broad domain so still
That its deep quiet gives the heart a thrill,
As when night fowl sail by on noiseless wing
A thrill such as no sound hath power to
bring.
The Silont Land, which stretches on and on,
Dim outlined as the mist-veiled hills of dawn;
Vistas whero human vision feebly grop-s,
'Midst the long cypress boughs that gloom tha
slopes.
The Silent Land 1 No breeze; and yet what
wafts
Are these which play about the portal shaft*
Chilling the white-lipped wanderers who
wait
To pass the boundary of the unknown state!
—William Stnithem,
HUMOROUS.
A branch liou e—A log cabin.
Good only when used up—the balloon.
The hired girl lives out all ^<LaP
“How cool this conscrvnto^*is.”
“Yes; papa says there’s nothing like a
liot-houso to cool off in.”
A young lawyer has taken to bragging
ina theatrical way. He says: “My busi¬
ness last season was something fee nom
Inul
Miss Antique (school teacher)—“What
does w-h-i-t-o spell?” Class—No an¬
swer. Miss Antique — ‘ 1 What is th*
color of my skin?” Class (in chorus)-—
“Yellow. ”
Mrs. Popinjoy—What does your hus¬
band think of your now hat? Mrs.
Blobson—He hasn’t looked at it yet.
The bill has attracted his entire atten¬
tion for the past two days.
The difference between missions and
home church work is this: At horns
ministers live off their congregations,
but in mission fields tho congregations
live off the missionaries.
Omaha Brido— 1 ‘I’m so glad you
brought the evening paper. What does
it say about our wedding?” Omaha
bridegroom—“I can’t say, my dear; I
only had time to read the base bal
news."
Nickelby—“That’s a strange pair of
scales you have there. I supposo they
are of the Ambuscade kind. ” Grocer—
“Ambuscade? What is that?” Nickelby
—“Why, they lie in weight, as it
were. ”
Blobson—“Wo’ve X been grossly treat
ed in this one-horse town. I shall shako
the dust of tho place from my feet.”
Mrs. Blobson—“For pity’s sake, don’t
you do it, John. Wo shouldn’t be able
to find our way to the station.”
The editor who advises his readers
“never to climb a tree after a panther”
may mean well, but his advice is super¬
fluous. Ho shojild reverse his admoni¬
tion, and advise a panther never to
climb a tree after his readers.
Two welWfnown clergymen missed
their train,,-' bpon which one of them
took out his' watch, and, finding it to
blame for the mishap, said he would no
longer have aay faith in it “But,”
said the other, “isn’t it a question not
of faith, but of works?”
Little Bobby—“Ma, will I go to
heaven when I die?" Mother—“If you
are a good boy you will.” “Will you
go, too?” “I hope so, Bobby.” “And
will pa?” “Yes, we will all be there
sometime.” (Bobby didn’t seem alto¬
gether satisfied, but after somo thought ’
he said:) “I don’t see how I’m going
to have much fun."
Customer—How much aro those trou¬
sers? High-Priced Tailor—Twenty dol¬
lars. By the way, how will you have
the pockets arranged? Customer
(gloomily)—You needn’t put in any.
Mauu—So you aro goiog to marry
your father’s cashier? Isabella—Yea.
Pa says that If ho runs away with tha
bank’s funds tho money wiil still be in
tha family.
—