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NORTH GEORGIA I TIMES • \
aaiSS&R, I Proprietors.
2Hscot«7.
When the worlds first grttv.t westward voy
ager
Sailed out in faith to this new continent,
Whither he felt all his life-currents stir,
Though knowing sot unto what placs he
went,
One-day, no land in sight, his grating keel
Reported shoals; the unconscious vessel
slid
Across, nor heard the grinding sands reveal
The secret of the coast beyond them hid.
He drifted past, though waif of leaf and
bird,
Floating and fluttering after, bade him
stay;
Vague invitations everywhere he heard:
By hope’s own dazzling glamour led
astray,
He landod on an islaud’s rim, nor guessed
How nearly he had won his larger quest.
Alas! the dumb, inscrutable human sea
That will not tell us of the shores we seek!
Its jealous waves, in moaning mockery.
But just returned from pressing a blue
cheek
Against fresh roses blown for us, unseen,
In our own realm, that never will be ours,
Though through the starry dusk all night
wo lean,
And, unaware, breaths balsam from the
flowers,
And feel its soft mists wrapping us around,
And hear far, wave-tossed voices whisper
ing
From some dim bourne beyond the horizon’s
bound—
Heart’s kindred starving for the love we
bring,
As we for theirs—an unreaped harvest-field:
Our treasure just within our roach—con¬
cealed 1
And yet, Columbus, this New World is
thine!
Thy claim was in thy forward-reaching
soul,
An inner, prescient right: thou didst divine
Wonders that the veiled hemisphere should
unroll
At last, from out the blue blank of the sea =
And whatsoever foot might tread this
shore,
Clear was thy title of discovery,
Whose thought outsailed thy ships so long
before,
That which we recognize and seek is ours:
Approaching, uuperceived, related souls
Slir irresistibly our noblest powers;
Us toward our own the tide of being rolls:
And shall it not be joy, the voyage done,
To know the continent and island oue?
—Lucy Larcom in Harper's.
MARCHHARE’S WILL
If there hadn't been a touch of—
well, to put it mildly—a touch of ec¬
centricity about old John Marchhare,
he would have hatdly made such a
will.
Several years before the veisel in
which he was returning from the West
Indies went down at sea, with nearly
all on board. John Marchhare was
picked up by one of the boats, and
clinging to a little girl—a mere child —
whose life he had saved, while her
relatives and all who knew her were
among the lost.
From the little stranger thus thrown
upon his care ho did not turn away.
She was too young to give any account
of her parents or family; and all sub¬
sequent efforts to discover her kindred
or whence sho came proved fruitless,
John Marchhare adopted her aud took
f
her to his home and heart.
Having neither wife nor child, he
felt free to do as he would with his
handsome fortune; and it pleased him
that it should go to his adopted daugh¬
ter— “provided,” so ran his will, “that
if my said adopted daughter should
marry during the lifetime of my brother,
Edward Marchhare, whom I hereby
constitute her guardian, without the
approval of my said brother, then the
foregoing bequests and devises shall be¬
come void, and my whole estate shall
go to my said brother.”
This was an eccentric will; but, we
have already said John Marchhare was
an eccentric man. It is easy to see that
it was left to Alice Marchhare, as she
was called, the threefold choice of ac¬
cepting a husband of her guardian’s se¬
lection, of remaining single during his
lifetime, or of forfeiting her fortune.
That it was thus made tho interest of
Edward Marchhare to oppose any match
that might be offered to Alice was a
point that probably did not occur to the
testator, or, more likely still, he knew
his brother better than to suspect that
sordid motives would ever sway him in
fulfilling a trust committed to his con¬
science.
Alice had barely reached womanhood
when her benefactor died; but when it
was known how John Marchhare’s will
read and the power it gave his brother,
suitors swarmed around about the young
lady and her guardian, and it is hard
to tell to which they were the most ob¬
sequious.
George Preston had not waited foi
the publication of John Marchhare’s
will as the signal for falling in love
SPRING PLACE. GA.. THURSDAY. DECEMBER 12, 1880.
with Alice, as several others had done,
in spite of her beauty. The truth is,
he had been in that state as far back as
he could remember, And Alice, we
may as well let the reader know, had
always liked George.
But when George Preston asked Mr.
Edward Marchhare’s permission to tend¬
er his hand to Alice, the old gentleman
shook his head.
‘ Have you a home to offer her?'’ he
asked? “or means to support her?" he
added, before George, in his confusion,
could find an answer.
“Perhaps,” he continued, giving the
young man no timo to rccovet himself—
“perhaps you think Alice’s fortune suf¬
ficient for both, Now, whether she
shall have one or not”
“Is a question I have never stopped
to ask," broke in George, indignantly.
“Whether she shall have a fortune or
not,” said Mr. Marcbhare, disregarding
the interruption, “depends on her not
marrying in my lifetime in opposition
to my wishes: and I shall certainly
never wish to see her wedded to a man
willing to be dependent for a living on
the bounty of his wife.”
“You much mistake me,” cried
George, with flushed face, “if you rank
me in that class. I have strength and
energy”
“But as yet they are untried,” said
Alice’s guardian, without waiting for
him to finish. “I am willing to put
you to the test, however. Return in
three years the possessor of $5000 saved
from you own earnings, and if Alice
then consents to hear your offer I shall
not oppose it.”
George's face brightened. A much
severer ordeal would not have daunted
him. And avhen ho took leave of Alice,
though there was no formal plighting
of troth betsveen them, he had no mis¬
giving lest the end of three years should
no; find her faithfully waiting his re¬
turn.
The allotted time had nearly gone by
before George, after many struggles
and hardships, hal succeeded in laying
up the sum which entitled him to ap¬
pear and claim of Marchhare tho fulfil¬
ment of his promise.
At a railway station, the last stop¬
ping-place on his journey home, ho
went into the refreshment room for sup
per. He had not half finished tho
scanty repast when the sound of the
bell, and tho summons of tho porters,
caused a general commotion and rush
for the train. George caught
up his overcoat, ami followed the
rest.
On reselling his destination he was
about to draw on his overcoat prepara¬
tory to leaving the carriage, when for
the first lime he discovered that the gar¬
ment he had brought from the supper
rocm was not his own. It was similar
iu color an I material, but the attempt to
put it on at once revealed the difference,
lie was thunderstruck at the dneovery.
In a secret pocket of his own co it was
the banknote which had cost him three
yeais o:' anxious toil, aud which repre¬
sented so many preciout hopes.
He wildly ran among the dispersing
passengers, looking sharply at every man
he met, as though expecting to find
upon him the object of his search. Bat
all in vain; it was nowhere to be seen.
With a vague purposo of advertising
everywhere, and telegraphing in all di¬
rections, he was hurrying rapidly along,
when whom should he meet but Mr.
Marchhare!
George’s first greeting was to blurt
out his loss.
“I am very sorry,” said the old gen¬
tleman, gravely; “but you know my
conditions; and with respect to their
fulfillment, it seems you are just where
you started."
“Give me but another chance!” cried
George. “I can earn double as much
in the same time. I will work night
and day to do it! ’
“Your time is up to-day,” said Mr.
Marchhare; “and I have promised my
old friend, Wells, in the event of your
failure, that his son Lawrence may pay
his addresses to Alice to-morrow. The
young man, though well enough, is
something of a fop, and I doubt if Alice
will listen to his suit. Still, my word
is passed. Ah, here he comes! Shall
I introduce you?”
“Stwop thief! stwop thief!" shouted
a flashy-looking youth, rushing forward
and seizing George by the collar.
“What do you mean?” exclaimed
George, dashing aside the hand so
rudely laid upon him.
“What’s the matter, Lawrence?”
asked Mr. Marchhare, astonished at the
proceeding.
“Mattah! mattah enough, I should
say! Why, that's the fellah that stow ie
my cwoat! There it is now on his
arm.”
“Come, come!" interposed Mr.
Marchhare; “mistakes will happen
sometimes.”
“Mist wake!” sneered Lawrence
Wells. “A vewy likely mistwake, see¬
ing mine’s twice the best cwoat, and
his is rnoro than a yeah behiud the
fwashion. I’m almost asliwamcd to be
sween in it; I am, upon my swoul. But
I’ll hive satisfaction. I’ll cawll the
police!
After a quick glance at the young
man’s apparel, George flung asido the
coat on his arm, and, placiug a hand on
each of the dandy's shoulders, got him
out of the one he had on, in a manner
more expeditious than gentle. Hastily
examining the secret pocket, Georgo
found his money safe; and Lawrence
Wells was convinced, under all the cir¬
cumstances, that there had, indeed, been
a mistake. Mr. Marchhare took him
aside, and explained that his call on
Alice must be postponed for the pres¬
ent. We need scarcely add that it
never took place.
The World's Queerest Restaurant.
Not far from tho Rue St. Denis, says
a Paris letter to tho Times -Democrat, is
a restaurant that has few counterparts.
It is the cheapest place in Paris, and
that means in the world. 1 once had
the honor to bntertain a Whyo King,
since hanged, in one of the chief Chat¬
ham street (New York) eating houses.
The Whyo had what he called a “cork¬
in’good feed,” and the bill, I think,
was 14 cents. But the Paris restaurant
is much cheaper. It enjoys the title of
“Au Hasard de la Fourchctte.” In it
a huge cauldron hangs over a fire. It
is filled with all sorts and conditions
of eatables. Tho customer pays three
ceuts to the burly gentleman who is in
charge, Ho receives in return a huge
long-handled fork. This he pluugos
into the pot once—no more. I did not
try my luck, but I fouud it interesting
to watch those who did. It was a pe¬
culiar game of chance, and those who
played it showed more interest iu it
than you can see on tho faces of tho
gamb ct 3 at Monaco. Sometimes a
lucky oue would bring up a chicken
wing or a substantial chunk of meat,
and thereon his face would light. But
moro often the fork would come up lad¬
en with only a potato or some insignifl.
cant article. However, that made no
difference. Tho player had to bo satis¬
fied with his winnings, or ho would
travel to the street with moro velocity
than comfort. Altogether the “Fork
Hazard’’ is a queer place and is worth
seeing.
Air as a Cure for Dyspepsia.
Some dyspeptics have fouud out by
experience that a change of air from
town to couutry or sea, or from a hot,
relaxing climate to a colder one, will
drive away their distressing symptoms
in a few days. Bid air or air that,
though not ba:l for tho robuit is very
far from purity, can not make the blood
pure like good air; it can not get rid of
the waste tissues of the body so com¬
pletely as they should bo got rid of; it
does not stimulate and brace up the
spirits; it does not promote sleep. On
tho other hand, in order that digestion
may be comfortable and perfect, there
must be a sufficient quantity of effective
gastric juice secreted after every meal.
But this requires pure blood and a ner¬
vous system in sound working order.
By far the best thing for many dys¬
peptics to do is to seek an immediate
change of air. It is often said of
drugs, or rather it used to be often said
of them, that they “acted like charms.”
Very few drugs, indeed, have anything
of tho “charm” about them. But a
pure, clear, bracing atmosphere makes
such a change in the blood and nervous
system in a few hours that it almost de¬
serves to be spoken of as a “charm.”—
Hospital.
A Farm Worked by 250 Lima tics.
The whole of the work on the Islip
farm, Long Island, is done by the 250
insane patients who live there. Many
of them are excellent laborers, skilful
and steady, as Dr. MacDonald, who has
had charge of tho work there during
the past summer, can testify. The
farm, which was formerly poor land, is
in a fine state of cultivation, highly pro¬
ductive and pleasant to behold. It is
greatly admired by the level-headed
farmers of Long Island who take a look
•tit.— New York Sun.
OLD FURNITURE.
Antiqueties Produced From
Brand-New Materials.
Ancient Chairs, Clocks, Etc.,
Turned Out to Order.
Tiie rage for having furniture of the
antique pattern li:u grown wonderfully
during thu Inst few years. Antique
oak dining suits, bedroom suits and
hall furniture seems to bo the most
popular, but anything of an antique
character now sells very rapidly. Many
purchasers who are furnishing their
houses really believe that they are buy¬
ing furniture which some old time Puri¬
tan has used. In this they are greatly
mistaken. Antique articles are manu¬
factured every day in the different ware¬
houses.
A furniture dealer recently talked
with a New York Mail and Express re¬
porter on this subject. He said: “A
few years ago agents used to be sent all
through the rural parts of New England
to pick up superannuated furniture of
every kind—such as was found astray in
farm houses, village attics, county ho¬
tels and elsewhere, having been handed
down from generation to generation in
the families of long-resident natives.
The latter were usually willing enough
to part with the treasures, which were
only valuable in the eyes of people of
asthetic tastes, and the dealer paid a
mere song for the articles and reaped a
big profit. But now the supply ob_
tained in this way has been practically
exhausted. Now it is the fashion for
rich people to have in their houses one or
two apartments intlio old colonial style,
with floor and walls of dark oak, mas¬
sive rafters, huge fireplace, mahogany
furniture and an occasional spinning
wheel. There are not nearly enough of
these precious relics to go around, so it
Is a blessing that provision is made for
reproducing them indefinitely at eom
paiativeiy cheap rates."
“How are these articles manufac¬
tured?" was asked.
“The most approved method of giv¬
ing a floor or wall the look of old age
is to scrub it at intervals with gallons
of a'c. Thu produces a flue effect.
Mahogany is generally used for the man¬
ufacture of antique piecei of furniture.
In its natural state it is no darker than
black walnut, and to make it of the
proper hue staining must be resorted to.
If oak is wanted, it is rubbed with com¬
mon shoe blacking, and the usual wax
finish put on afterward. This is war¬
ranted to add fifty years to tho appar¬
ent history of a bureau or desk in one
Lour. For the inside work of said desk
or bureau pine is employed, and this is
given tiie requisite look of antiquity by
repeatedly firing a shotgun loaded with
nothing but powder, and plenty of it,
into the drawers and around them until
the surfaces exposed are sufficiently dis¬
colored and all full of those curious
indentations which ordinarily signify
age. Auothor process is to wash the
drawers, etc., with a coarso sponge
dipped in powerful acid, which eats
the wood here and there anl effects the
same result.”
“But how about the brass fittings? ’
“These are manufactured in all the
ancient designs that were ever used.
In order to make them look dull and
old, the molds in which the brass 19
cast are rubbed and chipped somewhat,
and in them a little gunpowder is
placed and fired with a match, This
occasions a discoloration, which seems
to betoken the action of time’s gnaw¬
ing teeth, and the same is warranted to
last until tho merchandise is sold,
though not much longer.
“A special branch of the work has to
do with clocks of the ancient upright
pattern, which are copied in every de¬
tail from the really old ones. Even the
metal faces, with their curious numer¬
als, are imitate!, and tho works of
modern pattern are permitted to lie in
a dusty corner and oxide comfortably,
while tho framework is in process of
construction. There is nothing, the
makers say, in the lino of back-number
furniture that cannot be reproduced at
a few days’ notice from brand now ma¬
terials, and yet so like the old that no
ordinary person could possibly tell the
difference.”
The average number of hairs upon
tho human head is only 120,000. The
American wifo will please bear this in
mind when taking a large, generous
handful from the head of paterfamilias.
There is a limit to all good things.
VoL IX. New Series. NO. 45.
Wcdding Superstitions.
As long as there are fair women and
brave men there will continue to ba
weddings and as long as weddings are
the fashion there will still be plenty of
persons on hand to suggest to a young
bride just what she should do to avoid
bad luck, and also what she must not
do for the same reason. People who
arc otdinarily sensible about most things
lot all their superstitious notions creep
into their ideas regarding the prepara¬
tions for a wedding, and these whims
arc made the subject of discussion at as
early a stage in the proceedings as when
the young lady is considering what she
prefers for an engagement ring.
She is told to avoid opals, as no one
ever was known to have any happiness
who owned one of them. In spite of
this however, dealers say that there is
always a demand for rings set with this
beautiful stone. Pearls, the superstit¬
ious say, are even worse, but eventually
the little circle is purchased and the
time for tho wedding is discussed. Then
more complications arise,as certain days
are unfavorable and some months are to
be shunned. May is said to be an es
pecially unlucky month—why, no one
can tell but many a rhyme could be
quoted to show that this notion has pre¬
vailed for many centuries. August is
also looked upon as a disastrous time in
which to wed, and those who marry in
Lent, will “live to repent,” according
to very old authority.
Misfortune is sure to follow the bride
who has a speck of green in her cos¬
tume. 8hc must never array herself in
ail her pretty robes until * dressing for
tiie ceremony. She must never read tho
mairiago service quite through and she
must not stand before tho mirror one
second after she is ready, no matter how
pleasing the reflection of the happy
face and graceful gown. The one who
speaks first on entering the church will
rule the house, so tho wise ones say, and
iu throwing tho numerous articles of
foot-wear after the departing couple,
any of the guests may run after them,
and the one who succeeds in picking
one up will be married next. On her
return from her wedding journey the
bride must bo careful not to stop on
the threshold of her home, but must bo
lifted across by her husband. If all
the e rules are followed carefully, and
great care is taken before becoming en¬
gaged that the object of her admira¬
tion has a name which begins with an¬
other lotter than her own, there does
uot seem to bo any reason why every¬
thing should not prosper with a brido
unless the old saying may possibly
have much of the truth in it, which
says the reason why so few marriages
are happy is because young ladies spend
their time in making nets instead of
cage *.—New York Star.
The Man in the Moon.
Most persons are under the impres¬
sion that this familiar expression refers
only to the faint appearance of a face
which the moon presents when full.
But those better acquainted with folk¬
lore are aware that tho object referred
to under tho name of the Man in the
Moon is a dusky resemblance to a human
figure which appears oa the western side
of the luminary when eight days old.
Tho figure is something like that of a
man in the act of climbing, and carry¬
ing a thorn-bush upon his back. There
is a detached object before him which
looks something like a dog. Among
various nations it is a popular notion
that this figure is tho man referred to in
the book of Numbers as having been de¬
tected by the children of Israel in tho
wilderness in the act of gathering sticks
on the Sabbath-day, and whom the
Lord directed to be stoned to death
without tho camp. Our poets make
clear to us how old is this notion.
When moonshiue is to be represented in
Pyramus and Tliisbo (Shakespeare’s
“Midsummer Night’s Dream"), Quince
gives due directions as follows:' “One
must ccinc iu with a buih of thorns and
a lantern, and say he comes iu to dis¬
figure, or to present, tho person of
moonshine.” This order is realized:
“All I have to say,” concludes the per
former of this part, “is to tell you that
the lantern is the moon; I the man in
tiie moon; this thorn- bush my thorn
bush; and this dog my dog!” Chaucer
thus adverts to the Man in the Moon:
On her Brest a chorle painted ful even,
Bearing a bush of thorns on his backe,
■Which for his theft might clime so ner the
heaven.
Dante, in his “Inferno,” make3 a refer¬
ence to tho Man in tho Moon, but calls
him Cain, a variation from the popular
English idea.— Lippincott.
Hands.
Two dimplod hands
Outstretched in glee,
As pink ami as white
As shells of the sea!
Oh, softly caress them
And well, for I wish
That such tiny hands
Were made to kiss!
Two slender hands
All dazzling with gems—
As soft and as whit,)
As lilies on their stems,
O, lovingly clasp them
And kiss—for I ween
That such dainty bauds
Thou never hast seen.
Two toil-worn hands
On a pulseless breast
So hard and so brown—
Tired hands now at rest 1
O, reverently fold them,
For she’s gone to stay
Where the weary old hands
Are at. rest for aye.
—Augusta Wall in Atlanta Constitution.
HUMOROUS.
The path of duty—Through the cus¬
tom house.
Speaking about “cotton bagging” is
it at the knees.
When a mustard plaster sets up in
business it generally lias the drawing
room all to itself.
The world may owe you a living,
but no bad debt agency will undertake
to collect it for you.
She—And will you always love me?
All the live-long day? He—Ye-e-s, I
think so. You’ll give me a chance to
stop for meals, I suppose?
Editor—“1 cannot think and use the
type-writer at the same time.” Rival
Editor—“Then you find the type- wri ter
no letter than the pen.”
Mrs. Smithington—Oh! Mr. Tibkin,
you are always so kind in coming to see
me off. Little Tibkin—Not at all; it
is always such a pleasure.
“Healthy in our town? 1 should
think so! We have had only one funer¬
al for ten years, and that was the doc¬
tor, who literally starved to death.”
Johnkin—I hear you belong to an ac¬
cident insurance society? Tomkiu—
Yes, I joined over six months ago, and
deuco take it, I havn’t got hurt yet.
The man who tries to study out a
knitting work pattern iu the household
magazine knows about how a woman
feels when she is trying to understand a
printed base ball score.
There are no less than 857 different
terms in tho English language which
express the state of being iu love, and
the sweet young authoress of tho glow¬
ing society novel utilizes them all.
“Take her, my sou, and bo happy,”
said the fond father, with a paternal
smile. “Oh, yes, I’ll take her,” said
tho overjoyed, but philosophical young
man, “and 1’vo no doubt,” he added
with a sigh, “that we shall be happy—
for a while.”
Houses Used ns Fuel.
The people of Central and Northern
Iowa will long remember the horrible
winter of 1872-73, when there was
such dire suffering among them from
the unprecedented cold. I was in that
country then, and 1 have a very vivid
recollection of the rigors of that season.
I was living at tho town of Adel, Dal¬
las County. The country is railroaded
now, and it will never bo possible for
such scones to be witnessed there again.
Those days there were no railroads, pas¬
senger transportation being by stage.
During tho winter the cold was so se¬
vere that quite a number of stage driv¬
ers were frozen to death. In Adel there
was a famine of fuel, and it became a
serious question what the people would
do. After all the coal and wood was
gone resort was had to corn in the ear,
which cost seven cents a bushel. It
looked sinful to mo to see such a valua¬
ble food product blazing in the fires,
but thero was no help for it. Coon
River, whence wood was usually brought
to Adel, was forty miles away, and the
trip was out of the question in the pre¬
vailing temperature. Pretty soon, how¬
ever, another difficulty arose. The corn
was gone. Then in their extremity the
people began burning their houses.
This was done by lot. For instance,
my next neighbor and I drew lots to
see whose house should be burned. He
lost, and so wo dismantled his house
for fuel, while he aud his family moved
into my house with me. If I had lost
tho rule would have worked the other
way. I don’t want any more Iowa
weather. Missouri is good enough and
amply cold for me.—Philadelphia
itecord.
