NORTH GEORGIA TIMES
C. N. KINO. J- Proprietor^.
S. B. CARTER,
It Never Pays.
It Barer pays to fret and growl
..When fortune seems our foe;
The better bred will look ahead
' And strike the braver blow.
Your luck is work,
And those who shrink
Should not lament their doom,
But yield the play,
And clear the way,
That better men have room.
It never pays to wreck the health
lit drudging after gain,
And he is sold who thinks that gold
Is cheapest bought with pain.
An humble lot,
A cosy cot.
Have tempted even kings,
For station high,
That wealth will buy,
Hot oft contentment brings.
It never pays! A blunt refrain
Well worthy of a song,
For age and youth must learn the truth
That nothing pays that’s wrong.
The good and pure
Alone are sure •
To-bring prolonged success,
While what is right
In heaven’s sight
Is always sure to bless.
THE BASKET SELLER.
“Well, I declarel” said Mrs. Gibson,
slowly and emphatically, “What will
happen next? There was the eclipse
a-Wednesday night, and the earthquake
shock a week ago, and Jane Ann
Bhorey’s runaway match with Phil Par¬
kinson last night; and I swan to gracious
if here don’t come along Emma Ellis,
ridin’ on top of a load o’ wilier
/ware, jest for all the world as if she was
a man l”
“Don’t you want to buy a clothes
basket, Mrs. Gibson?” called oti’t Emma
Ellis’ clear soprano voice, as the stuejiy
BO rrel pony came to a pause in frorff of.
the painted garden fence, where
young quinces were just beginning to
assume shape and form among the
downy, green leaves.
“A clothes-basket?” repeated Mrs.
Gibson. “That’s just exactly what I
do want. Got any good, substantial [
ones, with bars o’ wood across the bot¬
tom to strengthen ’em?”
By way of answer, Emma EJlis swung
down a solid-looking willow receptacle,
springing after it herself, and a lively
discussion ensued.
“Goin’ into tho peddlin’ business,
eh?” said Mrs. Gibson.
“Well, I thought I’d see how I liked
it,” Emma answered, with a cheery,
good-humored laugh. “Do you like
this basket? I’ve got some capita! easy
rockers for the old grandmother here,
and a doll's cradle that will exactly suit
the baby; and as for work-baskets—-’>
And she made a triumphant motion
of her hand that expressed marvels.
“Well, I’d like ’em all,” said good
Mrs. Gibson, “but I don’t feel able to
buy nothin’ but tho basket this morn¬
ing. Se'lin’ on commission, eh?”
“No—out and out. Let me seo; you
want two dollars and nineteen cents
change, do you?? Elli
And Miss opened her flat leather
pocketbook and counted out the money
in true business-like fashion.
“Well—I—never!” repeated Mrs.
Gibson, staring after the cloud of dust
that followed the load of willow- ware
in its progress down the street.
“Why, what is tho matter?” said
Charles Borden, who had just stopped
at the gate to see if he could borrow
Farmer Gibson’s mowing machine for
the morrow.
“It’s Emma Ellis," said Mrs. Gibson,
“drivin’ a load o’ wilier-ware, and
sellin’ baskets and hampers and things.”
“Nonsense 1” cried Borden.
“I jest bought this ’ere clothes-basket
of her!” declared Mrs. Gibson. “I tell
ye what, Charley Borden, she’s been
disappointed in the dcestrick school, and
the squire he must have come plumb up
agin a snag in the marble-mantel busi¬
ness, and a3 sure as you live Emma’s
got to earn her own livin’, with all them
genteel ways and piano lessons and
crayon picters o’ hern. My! what a
come-down it is for that family! I
don’t see how Emma can be so chirk
about it. Where’s that Borden follow?”
she criod, staring about her. * ‘Gracious
mo, if he ain’t cut across the medder!
I guess most likely he’s seen Gibson
there.”
And Mrs. Gibson tied on a green
checked sun-bonnet and ran down the
street to Mrs. Dalrymple to tell the news.
“Serves’em right 1” said Mrs. Dal¬
rymple. “A fambly o’ reg’lar goin
upstarts! I never did take no stock in
Emma Ellis.”
“Your son Oliver did though,”
chuckled Mrs. Gibson, with a meaning
glance.
SPRING PLACE. GA.. THURSDAY. SEPTEMBER 26, 1889.
“That ain’t neither here nor there,”
said Mrs. Dalrymple, sharply. “Oliver
ain’t goin - to squander girl the
on no
money that his father laid up, unless
she’s a real savin’, hard*workin’
creetur’, as will know how to take care
of it,”
“There she is now t” said Mrs. Gib¬
son. “Stoppin’herd”
“No-o-ol” bawled Mrs. Dalrymple,
opening the window a mere crack.
“We don’t want nothin’. No, I say!”
Emma Ellis smiled to herself as she
drove on, stopping next at the Borden
farmstead, where, strange as it may ap¬
pear, Borden himself had already ar¬
rived, by means of the short-cut across
the Gibson meadows.
“Oh, is it you, Mr. Borden?" she
asked, carelessly. “Won’t you ask
your sister if she requires anything in
my way this morning?”
“But, Miss Ellis, what does this
mean?” exclaimed the amazed young
farmer.
“It means—willow-ware, ” Emma an¬
swered, composedly.
“Has anything happened?”
“Things aro always happening,” said
Emma, reaching across the load for a
particularly pretty market basket. “I
think she will like this, Mr. Borden. ”
“I’U buy it for her," said Charley,
recklessly.
“And a scrap-baskot, shaped like a
little barrel, don’t you see,” persisted
Emma, “for your own room?” It’s cheap
—only a dollar.”
‘ ‘I’ll buy that, too, ” said Charles
Borden. “And this hamper and this
pair of little baskets for Kate’s boys to
go blackberrying with, and—”
“ 0h ’ sto P> sto P’” merril y cried Em '
ma ’ “ You buy a11 m y stock in
ade . or 1 sha11 have nothin S left for
anybody else.”
“Oh, but I really want that big rock¬
er for the front porch,” persisted Mr.
Borden. “That’s a necessity."
“The big rocker, then,” said Emma,
half laughing; “but beyond that,, abso¬
lutely nothing more.”
“But you’ll promise me one thing?”
“It depends very much upon what it
is.”
“If you have anything left unsold at
the end of your trip, you’ll give me a
chance?” said Charlie imploringly.
“Wicker goods always come handy,you
know.”
Emma only laughed and touched up
the old horse.
“I make no promises,” said she.
That day, on tho high seat among
the baskets and rockers, the wash-tubs
and clothes-horses, to Emma Ellis it was
quite a new experience. The chaffering
at shady farmhouse doors with busy
housewives, the counting of change, the
discussion of qualities and the persist¬
ent standing up against tho general dis¬
position to boat down prices and haggle
for odd cents, the various views of hu¬
man life which she now obtained for
the first timo from her aerial perch, the
odd sensation of being “in trade,” the
consciousness that sho was looked upon
with pity by some of her friends and
scorn by others—it was altogether a
strango conglomeration of feelings.
Toward the close of the day’s work,
as she was returning home with lior
wagon-load considerably depleted, and
her purse somewhat better furnished
than it had been, she chanced to come
face to face with handsome Oliver Dal¬
rymple, trotting along on the Morgan
mare, which once had keen the pride
of the elder Dalrymple’s heart. She
looked him full in the face. He seemed
absorbed in the knot on the end of his
whip-lash, and never even looked her
way.
“So!” she said to herself; “sets the
wind that way?” Mr. Dalrymple does
not seem to approve of this new enter¬
prise of mine. Well, I’m sorry, but I
can’t help it. Charley Borden, now,
views things in an entirely different
way.”
And sho smiled a little as she saw,
leaning anxiously over tho gate beyond,
tho stalwart figuro of the young farmer.
“Miss Ellis!” ho uttered pleadingly.
“I’m sure you can’t want to buy any
more willow-ware,” said Emma, check¬
ing her horse. “Thera can’t be room
for it in tho house.”
“No; but won’t you let me put this
horse in the stable, or drive it home for
you, while you come into tea? Alice
will be delighted to see you. And you
must be so tired 1" urged he.
Emma thought a moment, and as she
reflected how refreshing a cup of hot tea
would bo, Alice Borden put her curly
head out of the window.
“Do come, Emma!” sha cried,
“We’ll have waffles and maple syrup
and broiled chickens; and I’ve got ever
so many things to toll you. ”
And Emma capitulated.
But as Charley Borden helped her
down from her high seat, he stood a
minute holding both her hands m his.
“Emma,” said he, “I know I’ve no
business to speak so abruptly, but I
can’t help it. 1 don’t know why you
hto doing this thing, but if it is to eavn
money, let me earn it for you, Emma—
givo mo the right to do it. I'm only u
farmer, but I’ve got a nice place hero,
and I can keep you like a lady. And I
love you, Emma! I’ve loved you well
and truly this many and many a day.
Now I’m not going to tease and bother
you about this. Take timo to make up
your mind. I’ll drive the old horse
homo, and then I’ll take you back my¬
self in the little buggy whea you and
Alice have had a good visit. And you
can give mo my answer when you please,
and not before.”
Emma broke from him and ran into
tho house, blushing yet not displeased.
Alice met her at the door.
“Where is Charley?" said she. “Oh,
going to take your load of willow-ware
home? Now, Emma, toll me what this
really means. Have you lost all your
property?"
“No.”
“Are you going into tradj4Jf >
“No.”
“You won’t answer me?”
“No.”
“Then," laughed Alico Borden, “Ill
ask you no more questions. Hereafter
I’m as dum as an oyster. Now come in
and help me disbjjip the chickens and
waffles.” ■'
It was past eleven that night whon
Charley Borden brought Emma Ellis
home to the old house, wharo tho squire
was nodding over his evening paper.
Well,” said he, viewing her over the.
edge of his spectacles, with a a^aggi*
twinkle in his clear blue eyes, “how did
the thing work?”
“First rats, papa,” said Emma. “I
sold twenty dollars’ worth—within a
few cents. And Mr. Borden here was
one of my best customers. ”
“Then,” said tho squire, with a sigh
of comic resignation, “I’ve lost my
wager. You seo, Borden, ray girl want¬
ed me to buy this stock of willow-ware
with the horse and wagon, to set old
Miss Barhydt up in busine s—and I told
her no woman would succeed in such an
enterprise, lot alone their being unwill¬
ing to undertake this sort of work. But
Emma stuck to it that it could bo done,
and I was weak enough to wager tho
whole outfit that it couldn’t. So Emma
declared she would prove it practically
—and I didn’t think sho had pluck
enough; but, by jingo, she has! Yes,
yes, Emma, you’ve beat me square and
fair!”
“And Miss Barhydt is to have the
outfit of willow-ware!” cried Emma,
joyfully, clapping her hands, “and the
horse and wagon. Oh, Mr. Borden,
you can’t think what a nice old woman
•he is, nor how anxious she is to earn a
livelihood in the open air like thist
And now you know,” with the archest
and most bewitching of glances, “how
it came to pass that I was peddling
willow baskets around tho country.
Wouldn’t you have dona it, if you had
been me?”
Young Dalrymple was in despair
when he learned of Charles Borden’s en¬
gagement to tho prettiest girl—aye, and
the richest girl—in the country.
“But who was to suppose,” said he,
that she would take such an unaccounta¬
ble whim into her head?"
And Mrs. Gibson always declared
that she never had a clothes -basket wear
like tho one sho bought of Squire Ellis*
daughter !—Saturday Night.
A Railroad in the Holy Land.
The preliminary surveys of a railroad
to run from Jaffa on tho sea coast in
Palestine to Jerusalem, and thence to
Bethlehem, have just teen completed,
and a party of engineers have started
from London for the Holy Land to lay
out the route. A company has al¬
ready been formed to build the road, in
which a number of English and French
bankers are interested. From all ac
counts it is a purely business enterprise
without a trace of sentiment of religious
fervor,
The travel in the Holy Land of f late
years has been increasing steadily; and
it is believed if first class railway accom¬
modations were furnished the numL® r °f
tourists who annually visit Jerusalem
from all parts f> the earth' woqidspon be
trebled.
SALT MOUNTAINS.
Strange Story of Captain Mellon
of the River Colorado.
Relics of the Prehistoric Man
Discovered in the Salt Beds.
T
Captain J. A. Mellon, one of tho old¬
est white settlors of Fort Yuma, A. T-,
wljo lived in Yuma two years without
'teeing a white woman, and who com
‘manded the first steamer, tho Gila, that
ever went up the Colorado River to the
mouth of the Virgin, is at tho Lick,
having arrived lately, says the Ban
Francises Examiner.
Few pioneers in any land havo had
the strango experiences of Captain Mel¬
lon. “It is over 25 years, now,” ho
said, “since I went to Fort Yuma, and
the changes I see in San Francisco sur¬
prise me.
‘ ‘Have I been running on the Colora¬
do River all this time? Yes, and let
me say that there nro stretches of hun¬
dreds of miles on that river that aro loss
known than tho heart of Central Africa.
We go up there to got salt. There are
great mountains of salt up on tho Vir¬
gin, which is a tributary of tho Colora¬
do, each of which is larger and higher
than goat Island. The salt is pure and
white. It is clearer than glass. You
may take a piece of it seven or eight
inches thick and read a common news¬
paper through it. The salt mountains
cover a stretch of about 25 miles on
both sides of the Virgiu, seven miles up
froin'the Colorado. A single blast of
giant powder will blow up tons upon
tons of it,
“This salt does not dazzle your eyes,
as you might expect, while riding along
on the rivec'sWmer or clambering over
them. .It has a layer of sandstone from
two to eight feet thick over it. When
41iis is torn away tho salt lies in full
sight, \ like a'great Y“ snow-drift. How
■
deep it i*, nobody Juiows. This salt is
destinod to bo the sourco of great
wealth. Hamilton Disston, the big saw
manufacturer, and Baldwin, of the Bald¬
win Locomotivo Works, arc tho only
men who Lave secured any of these salt
mountains. When tho Utah Southern
Railroad is pushed on from Frisco,
Utah, it will tap the gigantic salt moun¬
tains, and then an enormous revenue
will be realized for them.
“I brought down with me for
the Academy of Sciences here some
queer things from the salt mines.
Under the cap rock was found charred
wood and charcoal, besides some mat¬
ting mado of cedar bark. Tho salt had
preserved it. It might have lain there
thousands of years. Evidently there
had been a slide that covered up the
camp ! equipage of somo prehistoric
men. Strange to say, a similar dis¬
covery has been mado in tho salt mines
of Louisiana. The rocks up toward the
salt mountains are painted and cut into
hieroglyphics which none of the Mojave,
Yuma, Piute or other Indians know the
meaning of.
“There aro valleys along the great
but as yet unknown Colorado, singly,
as much as 120 miles long and twenty
wide. That will bo the real orange
country of the globe. They are as rich
af the valley of the Nile. Irrigation
■vfill redeem them. Water will be
brought on them as sure as destiny.”
Three More Eiffel Towers.
The idea of building three more
Eiffel towers and then turning the four
into the legs of a huge platform whereon
a sanitarium can be built above the
smoke and stir and dust and noise of
cities, whither invalids could ascend in
search of pure air and seclusion, is being
discussed with every appearance of
Sincerity in Paris. The notion is cer
tainly a big one and worthy of the age
which tackles such big undertakings as
a Panama Canal and Channel tunnel,
but it will not fall to the lot of invalids
of this generation, I fear, or of the next,
either, to avail themselves of the aerial
sanitarium which is suggested.
A Breathing Well.
A breathing woll has been discovered
near Eagle Flat Station, 110 mile3 east
of El Paso, Texas. It is an abandoned
artesian well, 890 feet deep’, buo the
tubing is still intact in it. For twelve
hours each day a furious gust of air
rushes into the tubing, and tho next
twelve hours an equally strong gust
rushes out. This occurs with tho ut¬
most regularity, and, so far, no break
has been noticed in the regular occur¬
rence. |
Vol. IX. New Series. NO. 34.
The Writer of a Familiar Hymn.
How many of the myriad* who in
childhood have 6ung “There is a happy
land, Far, far away,” know anything of
its writer? His name is Andrew Young,
and he is now eighty years of age, still
mentally and physically vigorous, and
retaining in all its early freshness his
sympathy with children. The hymn was
composed in’lSSS. The tune to which
it is married is an old Indian air, which
blended with the music of the woods in
tho primaeval forest long beforo Sunday
schools were thought of. Tho hymn
was composed for tho melody. Its
bright and strongly marked phrases
struck Mr. Young’s musical car the first
time he heard it casually played in the
drawing room. He asked for it again
and again. It haunted him. Being ac¬
customed to relievo the clamor of his
thoughts and feelings in rhyme, words
naturally followed, and so tho hymn
was created. Mr. Young happened to
have his hymn performed in tho presence
of his intimate friend, Mr. Gall, a mem¬
ber of tho publishing firm of Gall <fc
Inglis. It got into print. It has been
translated into nineteen different
languages. And yet the author ha*
never received, and, indeed, has never
been offered, a penny remuneration. It
is only recently that Professor David
Masson, referring to the unique influence
of this lyric, stated a most touching in¬
cident in the life of Thackeray. Walk¬
ing one day in a “alum” district in
London ho suddenly came upon a band
of gutter children sitting on the pave¬
ment. They were singjpg. Drawing
nearer he heard the words: “There is
a happy land, Far, far away!” Ashe
looked at the ragged choristers and
their squalid surroundings, and saw that
their pale faces were lit up with a
thought which brought both forgetful¬
ness and hope, the tender- hearted cynic
burst into tears.
Sweet Peas.
The history of the pea family is an
teresting one. The pea originated la
tho East, where it has b en known and
loved from immemorial times. Young
Daniel, when ho fed upon pulse, may
havo included this sweet product of the
garden in his abstemious faro. Bo that
as it may, tho people of the East wero
familiar with it long before it became
known to the Greeks and Romans. Tho
pea was introduced into Europe during
tho Middlo ages, and was not cultivated
in England until tho time of Henry
VIII. The pea-flower is papilionaceous,
or having a winged corolla resembling
the butterfly. The fruit is containod in
a legume or pod. The pea has spread
from India to the Arctic regions. At
least 50 kinds are grown. Indeed, the
Pulse family, to which tho pea belongs,
is so numerous as to include 6500 plants
agreeing at least in the one feature of
pod-bearing. Peas are not only pleas¬
ant to the taste, but they are nutritious,
as they contain much cassein.
Tho variety of pea grown in the flower
garden and known as Sweet Pea, is a
native of Sicily. It is worth while to
watch the beo make a visit to the pea
blossom. The stamen and pistols are
hidden in tho lowor projection of the
flower. The bee lights upon this part
and its woight forces the petals down,
wlplo the stigma, conveying pollen from
the surrounding anthers on its hairy
style, protrudes and striking the bee,
dusts it well with pollen. As in the
cose of tho scarlet geranium, the bee
seems to know by instinct just what
part of tho flower to alight upon. Tho
pea is Buch a cheerful looking flower,
that it really appeals to enjoy pommel¬
ing the busy bee.
Aside from the pretty flower, every
part of the pea is beautiful, for the vine
is graceful, tho foliage fresh and clean¬
looking, the pods curious and the ten¬
drils of interest as transformed organs.
Charles XII. and the Bomb.
As Charles XII of Sweden was dicta¬
ting a letter to his secretary during the
siege of Stralsund, a bomb fell through
the roof into the next room in the house
whero they were sitting. The terrified
secretary let the pen drop fromhishand.
“What is the matter?” quoth tho
king.
“The bomb, sire!” cried the secre¬
tary.
“Ah! never mind the bomb; it will
go oil presently.”
And it did.— Harper'* “Drawer.”
The base-ball player has n’o fear of
his cheek. That is hard and durable.
He puts on the muzzle to aave lus nose
and front teeth. *
The World-Old Question.
Joy, shame, disaster, passion, love and
grief—
Pray what are these to hini who stand l
alone
Within the desert of a shadowy world.
And marks the shadow of his own life fall
Across the sands that hold no footprint
yotf
To him, that shadow is so great, it fills
The widest margin of the earth and sky;
And yet he questions: Is he grain of sand.
Or shallow vague, amid the shadows there,
And all the grains of sand?
—David A. Curtis in Drake's Magazine.
HUMOROUS.
An old slat—Attic.
Even the golden rule is only electro¬
plated in these days of sham.
It is the clerk of the weather who
frequently makes a signal failure.
The first chapter in tho history of a
young woman’s love is chap. won.
No wonder hats begin to look played
out at an early period of their mortal
existence. They are on the rack about
half the time.
Aunt Hetty—“Well, Juliet, did you
marry the man of your choice?’' Juliet
—“Well I should smile! And I cut out
Annie Wilkins, too.”
The days are here again for sport,
How welcome’s the vacation
For teachers, boys and girls—in shorty
The bored of education J
“Uncle,” said sweet girl of
eighteen, “is love blind?” “Yes, my
dear, when the other parly is rich, ” an¬
swered he.
“All things come to Mm who waits,”
says the proverb, but the man who, af¬
ter waiting half an hour, discovers that
the la9t train has gone is not a believer
in it.
‘•What is your son doing now, Mr.
Janeway?" “Oh, he’s brace! up won¬
derfully. He’s doiug nothing now.
While he was in business ho nearly
ruined mo."
Bjohnson—“By tho way, did you
^ th(j suu
—“No, Bjohnson; I can’t 8 «y that I
ever did. I think I’ve always been in
bed before that."
Mr. Societo (who has just been pre¬
sented to a bevy of young ladies)—
“Pardon me, but with so many names
I am quite at sea regarding yours.” She
—“But you are not far wrong. Iam
Miss Atwater."
Prudent Lovor: I have a vital secret
to confide in you, which you must
promise to forever hold sacred. Kind
Parent: What is your secret? Prudent
Lover: I want your daughter’s hand in
marriage. Kind Parent: I shall never
givo it away.
It is wonderful when you think of it
what a large number of men have start¬
ed out into the world without a penny
and have worked their way up so that
they are now nearly a3 woll off as when
they first started out.
Husband—‘ ‘Well, my dear, what did
the magnetic physician say to you?"
Wife—“Ho says I am a sick woman,
and that my nervous system is not in
equilibrium. He says I am too posi¬
tive.” Husband—“Humph! I could
havo told you that and saved a couple
of dollars.”
Traits that Make a Skillful Cowboy.
To be a successful cowboy one must
be skillful in four qualities. He must
be a good rider, have complete control
of his lariat, a good knowledge of the
country and be a keen judge of cattle
and their brands. Riding all sorts of
horses, as he does, soon gives him an
intuitive knowledge as to whether any
particular horse will give him trouble,
and when once on he has got to stick
for all he knows how. His rope comes
in handy fifty times a day, either to
catch some maddened cow or runaway
calf, to haul wood or hundreds of other
uses.
Without a knowledge of tho country
he could never pilot a branch of cattle
to tho main herd or could he look up
strays, and finally other cattlemen would
palm off the most miserablo specimens
upon him if he could not tell good beef
from bad. His readiness to distinguish
and knowledge of the various marks
used to denote ownership is exceedingly
important, especially in the spring, aa
disputes frequently arise.
All these qualities a really good cosv
boy excels in, and when to these are
added cheerfulness, adaptability and
good humor, it is hard to find a more
pleasant companion. The life is hard,
but tho freedom and excitement seem in
most instances to outweigh the herd*
