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NORTH GEORGIA TIMES
tf&KRn. \ Prop ^'
Forever Young.
The wild world hastens on its way;
The gray-haired century nears its close;
Its sorrow deepens day by day;
The summer blush forsakes tho rose.
Slut, darling, while your voice! hear,
And while your dark brown eyes I see,
Sad months and sunless seasons drear
Are all the same, all glad to me.
Despair can never reach me.
While your soft hand I hold;
While your eyes love and teach me
I never shall grow old. t
They say that love forsakes the old.
That passion pules and fades away;
That even love’s bright locks of gold
lUust lose their charms and change to gray.
But, darling, while your heart is mine,
And while 1 feel that you are true,
For me the skies will ever shine
With summer light and tenderest blue.
Yes, let old age deride me!
1 scorn bis mocking tongue; ,
Dear love, with you beside me,
1 am forever young. — Belgravia.
When Romance Was Over.
Miss Dora Dwight, on her thirtieth
birthday, received the first love-letter
of her life—the first offer of marriage.
It was handed into tho dormitory of
the “Physiciaus’Ofphqns’ Home”—not,
as may be supposed, a home for the' or¬
phans doctors have made, but for the
children of decease! medical men.
Miss Dwight was matron there, and at
ihe moment was changing the piliow
:ases before the wash.
“I suppose it’s about Johnny Gilroy
»nd his swelled knee,’’said the servant.
“DoctorEmory seems to think it wuss.”
Miss Dwight, however, waited until
the girl was gone before sho opened the
note. Then, not greatly to her sur¬
prise, she read the words:
“My Dear Doha: You have known
me since you wore a baby. Do you
like me well enough to marry me? Of
course, you and I have -given up ro¬
mance 'long ago. 1 have had two
wives. You must lx: thirty-two or
three.” [“Just thirty,” said Dora,
herself; "he is sixty-nine.’’] "You
marrying,.me, will greatly improve and 1 always your position liked by
you.'
Please meet mo in tin: garden after
hours. 1 hope to rind you under the
Willows. Yours, hopel'uily.
"11. Estoitv.”
It was not a love- letter calculated to
flatter the heart of a woman of an/ age.
At first she said: “I wi l refuse him.”
Then she remembered how good and
kindly he was. "I will accept him,”
laid she, “but no romance shall be in
my talk with him. lie shall fin 1 me
like a stone. He shall have tiie sort of
wife he wants.”
It was early wiieu th) door-bell
slanged, aud a foot crossed tho long
passage, aud ceasing to echo on the
painted floor, struck the stouei. E irlier
than sire had expected him, but she was
ready for him under the willows in the
garden.
“lam glad to find you here,” said a
deep, old voice. “I thought you would
be sensible enough to do what 1 asked,
but I was not quite sure—not quite.
No. You have read my note carefully?
Yes? Well, imagine that I say to you
again what I wrote. I await your an¬
swer with anxiety.”
She looked at him, and he saw that
she smiled in aa odd. embarrassed way.
“Will you in irry me, my dear?’’ lie
affded. “I see I mu-it make it easier
for you to speak.”
“It was a little hard to begin,” she
said.
“The usual reason moves me,” be
said. “I’m in lovo with you. I think
it best to marry again, and I know no
one like you—no one. I’ve had two
wives before, I admit. However,
neither of them complained of me, I
believe. I have a very nice home, and,
really, it will be a very much better po¬
sition for you than being matron of an
institution. You do it admirably, but
j hate to roe you here. Your father
was older than 1, but we were great
friends. I think he would advise you
to say ‘yes. t 7 f
She put her hand upon his arm.
,* ‘I am a practical woman,” she said.
“If I marry you, 1 forfeit a good posi¬
tion that may be miuo for life—an in¬
dependent position. It is dangerous. ”
“My dear, you’ll have half of .ell
that is mine; and 1’ m not poor.”
“You dou’t think me young, I
know,” she auswered. “Who thinks a
woman young at thirty? But you have
four sons, hard, business men, older
than I. They’ll not approve of the
match. ”
: ‘'"’/hey are not at home; it can’t mat*
Emory.
AH‘But,”'.said Misa Dwight, with cruel
diStinCtneSk, “the trouble will come
when you-die. You have made a mis
totje; you are older than poor father.
SPRING PLACE. GA.. THURSDAY. FEBRUARY 13. 1890.
If you leave me a widow, your sons
will make every effort to take every¬
thing from me; I shall be left with
nothing, my placo gone, my habits of
industry,, my briskness. I make no
doubt you have heard of such cases ; I
have.”
The suitor sat—and who can marvel
at it?—stricken quite dumb- by this
speech. At last ho gasped:
“You are candid.”
“I am,” she answered—“I am, in¬
deed. Now is your time. You can
take back your offer, Dr. Emory.
Everything can be as it was before.
I'll tear up your letter; I am content
tliat all shall shall remain as it is.”
“But, then,” he answered, “I am
not. After all, all you say is only true.
1 dan face the music, I hope. My
swer is this: Marry me, aud I will
make a will, leaving you everything, on
our wedding day.”
“That would be unjust,” she said.
“It would be a will to be contested.
Leave me a hofhe and an income.” tffpj
named’ flip sum sufficient to keep • it
Up.
“That is moderate—sensible. And
iyou will say ‘yes, > »» he said.
.
promise, of course, 1 shall make it
bettor than that, still leaving my sons
no cause for complaint; but it is not
my fault that wc are not more ro¬
mantic.”
“Lot the romance come afterward, if
it can,” said Miss Dwight.
After this, they walked about the
garden awhile, aud tho day of the
wedding was set, leaving time to find a
new matron for the establishment. Miss
Dwight was certainly, us domestics say,
“bettering herself;” but she was not
elated.
In fact, a little regret stole into hor
heart us sho walked about the place
where sho had been so independent, so
respected; and wondered whether sho
would be "happy in the future.
“At least,” she said, with a degree of
bitterness, “I matched him with his
‘romance is out of tho question botWcen
two like us.’ Matched him aud went
further. ”
The belt tinkled in the hall just as
supper time was over that evening, and
in a few moments a servant came to’call
Miss Dwight.
“It’s a gentleman; he don’t know
who he wants,” she said. ‘‘Some one
who knows all ubout the place,, he told
me.”
Aud Dora went into the parlor; a
buro looking room, long, aud with
white walls, a panel carpet, a library
table, a horsehair sofa and six chairs,
aud tho portrait of the founder of the
home over the mautel-piece. There
stood under this portrait, with his el¬
bow on the marble itself,.a gontleman.
Dirk-eyed, dark-haired, with a laco
that was not so much handsome as de¬
lightful.
Writer^ often spend a good deal of
time in discussing what it is that men
see in the women whom they fall in
love with—when they say :
‘ 'This is the woman for me 1”
I believe the woman who meets for
the first time the only mati on earth to
whom sire would willingly give herself,
has deeper experiences still. '
The mo meat had coins to Miss
Dwight. 'She had waited JO'years for
it, and'now she’did not know what it
meant. But an unconscious smile came
to her lips, a light to her soft blue eyes,
a flush to her smooth cheek. She
looked prettier than she could have
dreamed possible of at that-moment.
The straiiger told his business. He
had recently coine:ftom Paris; where he
hud been occupied in certain affairs for
10 years. Mean while,'his brother had
died, having recently lost his wifes He
understood, to his astonishment, that
his little nephews were in the Home.
“Of course, I wish to take charge of
thorn,” he said. “I am a bachelor,
but I can arrange for thoir care. They
need not live on charity.”
“It' is not charity,” said Miss
Dwight. “Dr. EUwood gave largely
to the liomu in his lifetime. Tho chil¬
dren are considered little ladies and
gentlemen. #Thoy are well educated;
( aught tho usuages of good society.
Tlioy will have a oollcgiato course when
they leave this place. Most of the
girls become teachers, I think. ' Tho
boys choose their profession. There
would be at least no need of haste in
removing them.”
They talked together awhile. She
gathered that ho was what might be
called a poor man.
He lingered after the boys had come
, and gone. He came on the morrow.
and again and again. Tim ostensible
motive was to see his nephews, but he
also desired to soe Miss Dwight.
Meanwhile Dr. Emory called every
afternoon and consulted with Dora as
to the new parlor carpet aud the china.
“Buy good things,” slio said. “What
is the use of getting a carpet that will
fade soou, or china that chips; and sil¬
ver makes a table look well. Besides,
the things about a house belong to the
widow—if I’ should be left.”
“She is deuced practical,” said poor
Ijr. Emory to himself.
' This after* the matron
was new ar¬
rived and was being drilled iu her du¬
ties by Mus Dwight, who calmly said
before everyone!
“You see Pm! to be married shortly.”
‘ 'Do you know,- poor Nellie never
talked like that; nor my dear Maria.”
“Of course not,” said Miss Dwight.
“But you remarked layout offer to me
that (of course) , you aud 1 had done
with romance long ago.’’
Dr. Emory tried to laugh, but he was
not happy.
* That afternoon he took a long, long
ride to the sea shore, and stabliug his
horse at the hotel walked down to the
beach. “The season” was over. The
caterers expected only a little chance
custom. It was a day when driving
clouds mado it cool enough to be pleas¬
ant. There he sat down behind a big
mound of land and watched the s«3n
and thought of Maria, and how ho used
so often to kiss the back of her neck
because tho two little curls looked so
cuuning, and how she thought hiiti
handsome; how dear they were to each
other.
How long his reverie had lasted he
did not know, when merry voicos
sounded in his ear,
A man’s tones, those of two little
boys aud a woman’s. Surely lie knew
the last speaker. lie peeped from un¬
der his big Panama hat, add saw Dora.
Sho had brought the EUwood hoys
down for a holiday, at their uncle’s re¬
quest, and he hail come also. Dr.
Emory guessed who the gentleman was,
for he had had the cam of these boys
laid before him, and was looking for
two orphans to till their places when
they should begone, but the presence
of Mr. Eliwood gave him offence. “It
has quite the air of a family party,”
he said.
The boys played about, dug with
their little spades aud filled with white
sand those painted pails which all good
picnickers buy at tho seaside. They
took off their shoes and stockings and
waded along the edge of the water.
The elder people seemed as happy as
they, and how young! At last they sat
down very near to Dr. Emory, with
their backs to his sand barrow, and he
saw a man's brown hand drop upon a
little white one aud hold it tight.
Without showing himself he could not
see their faces.
“Do you know why I asked you to
come here?' 1 said the owucr of the
brown hand.
“To mind the children, as Sally
says,” replied the owner of the white
hand.
“No, to fell you something,” said
Brown Hand. “Darling little woman,
prettiest and sweetest of all created
beings, I have loved you from the first
mpmept 1 met you. Do you think you
would mind marrying a man who has
his fortune yet to make? Could you be
poor with him, and yet bo happy? You
see I am poor, but 1 adore you and I’m
selfish en’ough to ask you to do just
that for my sake, if you can try to love
me.”
The white hand fluttered. A soft
voice trembled.
“I should not have to try it,” she
sobbed. “It seems to come of itself,
and as for poverty, I'd rather beg with
you than 1 ive without you and have
millions. Oh! don’t look happy, don’t
look liappy, dear, when wo both must
be so miserable. I’m engaged; my
wedding day is set. I thought I had
outlived romance, and I promised to
marry an old man who only wants a
lady at the head of his house. Oh!
why did you not come to me one day
earlier?”
Silence fell. Dr. Emory heard them
rise and go away. In a minute more a
little boy rushed up to the sand mound
and poked it with his spade.
“Here’s a dead man,” he said—“a
drownded dead man.”
“No; it’s a tipsy man,” replied B-l
ly. “Let’s pile sand on him. ”
This they proceeded to do, until
Billy descried “uncle beckoning," and
they departed on the run.
After the last train had gone city¬
ward, an elderly gentleman took a sand¬
wich and some ale at the hotel before
getting into his gig. He emptied a great
deal of sand out of his pockets, but did
not fee tho waiters, and seemed to be, the
cashier said, ‘*in a temper.” It was
Dr. Emory, lie drove straight home,
and sat down at the desk.
“Thank Heaven, I can appear to
have tho best of hor,” he said, spite¬
fully. “But the next time I propose
to a woman I will not tell her that ro¬
mance is out of the question.' 1
Then he wrote:
“Miss Dwight: I am an old man,
but 1 tind I have made a mistake. I
have too much romance left in me to
marry you. Any pecuniary recompense
you desire I will offer; and, if you like,
the matron’s place is again yours.”
“Emoky.”
Miss .Dwight only noticed this note
by packing her engagement ring in
pink cotton and sending it back. She
did not want the matron’s place, and
she married Mr. EUwood very shortly.
Dr. Emory is now courting a girl of
10, who vows she adores him, and
wishes very loudly that he were
hers. He likes it .—Xcte York Ledger.
Jefferson Davis' Memory.
Jefferson Davis hail a memory for
faces and names that has probably never
been excelled by that of any public man
in the United States. It lias been said
of Gen. Sherman that when he meets a
man who was introduced to him 20
years previously ho wili recall his name
and the circumstances of tho introduc¬
tion, and will talk over tli/ ncidcuts of
tlioir first meeting. Both Grant and
Leo possessed to a great degree the
same faculty of remembrance, but nei¬
ther Sherman nor Grant nor Loo could
do what Mr. Davis did. At liis- office
iu Richmond, as President of the
Southern Confederacy, and in his visits
to the front of the army, ho treasured
up iu his memory the names of every
V-lktv-r and soldier -will, -whom Vie camn
into contact, and lie never forgot them.
While he was at lus Beauvoir planta¬
tion last winter there came to him a
worn-out and brokeu-dowu man who
made a claim on his charity as having
been a lieutenant in a certain Missis¬
sippi regiment. Davis taxed his mem¬
ory for a moment and then told the ap¬
plicant that lie Was a fraud and that a
man bearing an entirely different namo
was the lieutenant of the company
which tho mendicant had specified.
Tiie beggar made a quick exit from
the house and was never seen around it
again.
Prince Bismarck Astonished.
Signor Crispi, the Italian Prhno
Minister, related a characteristic story
of his visit to Prince Bismarck in
Friedrichsruhe to a number of delegates
who visited him in Naples a few days
ago. “During the conversation,” sai l
the minister, “tho chancellor ordered
two colossal mugs of beer, one of
which ho placed on tha table in front
of me and invited me to .-drink it. I
answered that I drank only water, a
remark which astonished him, judging
from the expression of his face. He
remained silent upon that point, how¬
ever, but after emptying his own glass,
reached for mine, which he also
emptied in a short time. Two pipes
were then brought out by the servant,
one of which Prince Bismarck offered
me after lighting his own. "Your high¬
ness, ’ I answered, ‘1 thank you, but I
do not smoke.’- ‘What!’ cried the
chancellor, ‘you do not drink and you
do not smoke? What a rare man you
are!’ The conversation was then con¬
tinued while Bismarck went on smok¬
ing, using both pipes before our inter¬
view was ended.”
A Crow Tamer.
Charles Smith, of Concord, Vt., hag
been a keeper and tamer of crows some
forty years, never being without one or
more of these birds. Fanny, his pres¬
ent pet, has been with him two years.
She warms herself for hours by the
smithy fire, chatters while he is hammer¬
ing ou tho anvil, and when he is shoe¬
ing a horse, is suto to stand at the
beast’s heels. Recently a horse put his
foot on Fanny and pinned her down till
she was as flat as a board. 8bo was
laid on the hearth apparently dead, but
an hour afterward she shook herself up
into shape Again and began chattering
as usual, though in a very squally and,
melancholy lone, which lasted fora
week or more.
The mule always puts his best foot
forward.
> I
Vol. X. New Series. NO. 2.
Man-Eating Crocodiles.
Dyak parents are very fond of tkeit
children, and are brave to the death in
their defence. I was told of a Dyak
father who, on seeing his lit tlo boy
seized by a crocodile at tiie water’s
edge and dragged into the stream,
drew his sword, plunged in after him,
and dived several times to tho bottom
of the river before he gave up all hope
of saving him.
On another occasion a ciocodi.e
seized a man by the chest in tho pres¬
ence of his children, and swam with
his prey along the surface for some ins¬
tance. The terrified children rau along
the bank, crying to their father to
gouge out the crocodile’s e/cs, but al¬
though he looked at them, he neither
moved nor spoke, being completely
paralyzed by (he grip.
lu the Sambas river a man was once
seized by a crocodile and dragged out
of a large boat from among nearly
twenty companions. In the Lingga
river thirteen people were once eaten in
one month, and on various other
streams many people have lost their
lives.
A traveller in North Borneo visited
the site of a village which had been
abandoned on account of the crocodiles,
and he declares that “tho reputation ol
the place was so bad that when bathing
there in tho boat I had a man with a
full-cocked gun on board.”
The government of Sarawak Territory
has for some years past waged an ex
terminating war against tho man-eating
crocodiles of that country. By paying
a icw&rd of thirty-fivo cents per linear
foot for every crocodile caught and
killed, tho most dangerous ones havo
been exterminated, and the total num¬
ber greatly reduced. In the year 1878
two hundred and sixty-six crocodiles
were caught, and tho government paid
out seven hundred aud thirty-eight
dollars in rewards to their captors.—
^igned With His Left Hand.
Tho bank clerks are so often ca'lod
upon for directions that they fall into
the Mbit of giving them in a hurried
and mechanical manner, consequently
they are frequently misunderstood. The
usual formula when a stranger is called
upon to sign his name is: “Sign there
—pen and ink at your left hand.” One
day not long ago a stranger entered one
of the large bunks and asked fora certifi¬
cate of deposit for a considerable roll
of money which ho handed over. The
clerk counted tho money, found the
amount to be as stated, and hurriedly
said: “Sign there, sir—pen and ink at
your loft hand." It appeared to the
clerk that it took tho stranger a long
time to sign his name, but he thought
nothing more of it, and issued the cer¬
tificate .of deposit, About a week
later tho sumo man reap¬
peared and presented the certificate.
As the clerk sees so many faces each
day lie did not remember this man when
he asked him to sign his name. Hr
dashed off an ornate signature, which
the clerk proceeded to compare w ith
tho first signature. The two were vast¬
ly (Efferent, as the first one was ap
parently the labored effort of an old
man. “I can’t pay you this money,
sir,” said tho clerk. “Why not?’asked
the astonished stranger. “Because this
is not the signature of the man to whom
1 issued the certificate of deposit,’ ’ was
the reply. “Is he your father or grand¬
father?” The stranger was dumb¬
founded. “When I was here you (old
me fo write my name with my left hand,
and I did so, hut I can’t write that
way.” A light dawned in upon the
clerk now. “Will you write your name
with your left hand now?!’ h 0 asked.
The mnu labored hard and produced s
fuc simile of liis first signature, and. the
clerk apologized and paid him his
money. — Chicago Hern Id.
, „ Seals In the St. Lawrence.
A-slaughter of seals unprecedented
in the history of the Gulf of St. Law¬
rence has been goiug on on both shores
of the Gulf, aud at least IS,000of them
havo been killed. As the Gulf begins
to fill with ice the seals come down
front, the Greenland coast in the Labra
dpY'Current, and> passing through the
Belie Isle Straits, cover the rocky shores
m myriads. This winter the Gulf was
exceptionally late in clbsing, with the
result’that the seals ponetratod the St.
Lawrence as far west as Montreal, 800
miles from the ocean, and they have
been caught in droves off that city.
Tho pelt of a Greenland seal is worth
$2.50 and its lat about four cents a
pound. Some boys at Father’s Point
made as much as $100 in a single hour.
IV lint is flood.
•‘What is (lie real g oil?”
I asked in musing mood.
Order, S'dd the law court;
K nowledge, said the school;
Truth, said the wise man;
Pleasure, said the fool:
Love, said the maiden;
beauty, said the page;
Freedom, said the dreamer;
Home, said the sage;
Fame, said the soldier;
Equity, the seer;—
Spake my heart full sadly:
“The answer is not here.”
Then within my bosom
Softly this I heard:
"Each heart holds the secret.
Kindness is tho word."
—John Jioijle O'Unity.
unuiiunn.
Board bills—Three-sheet posters.
A letter-carrier—The postage-damp.
Your vegetarian thinks flesh is not
meet for the stomach.
When the pigr begin to fly—Just a
you try to drive them in.
The favorite pursuit of tho flower of
nobility is liaughty-ctilturo.
When a young man goes on a “tear”
the sooner ho “mends’’ his ways the
better.
The inconsistency of nature is shown
when it supplies the turkey with t
comb and no hair.
By their fruit you shall kuow them;
and, therefore, the almanac makers are
known by their dates.
“Miss Foranforty has very sharp feat¬
ures.” ‘'Exceedingly; she cut me tho
other day on tho street.”
. lie hoped to win her by his presents,
but she sajd his presence wasn’t desira¬
ble, so he didn’t send any.
That the moral nature of the pig is
essentially mean and selfish is proven by
the-fact that lie is always willing and
ready to “squeal” when he gets into a
tight jdace.
“I soe you aro not a very expert pick¬
pocket,” said tho detective to the man
whom he had caught in tho act. ‘'No,”
tho latter replied, coolly; “1 am just
getting my hand in.”
“Well, I niver! If there isn’t that
blessed fchild a-goiu’ and a-puttin’ ou
its- stoekin’s wrong side out!' “Why,
of course, nurse; don’t ’oo see dere’s a
hole on do odder side!”
Funny Man’ s Little Bob-May Heave
the room, teacher? Teacher—Why do
you Want to leave the room? F. M. L.
B.—’Cause I can’t-take it with me, o’
course.
A young lady sent in a poem en¬
titled, “1 Cannot Make Ilim Smile,” to
a newspaper. r ilie editor ventures to
express the opinion that she would
have succeeded had she shown ihifir the
poem. |
Somebody claims to havo discovered
a substance that is 300 times as sweet as
sugar. R is not known what that sub¬
stance is, but it is supposed to bj nl out
18 yeavs old anil to have a fondness for
ice-cream.
The meanest man we have heard of
yet is the one who, suspecting his wife
of going through his pockets /or
change after ho retired, procured fwo
trained mice aud let them loose' in the
room every night. ,,r
Some fashionable women put dia¬
mond rings on the tails of their pet
(logs. A diamond ring on a dog’s tail
is so couspicuoui that tho animal is not
obliged to scratch his nose with his
caudal appendage to call attention to
the jewel.'.
“Now, children, be quiet,” said their
mother; “father is going to besueprised
tomorrow night, and presented with a
clock, and ha’s busy thinking up a few
appropriate words of thanks that ho
will say as soon as ho recovers from hia
surprise.” <
Ho wooed her and sued her and sought her
Till lie melted her heart so cold,
Then he married the ice-man's daughter
And now he is rolling in gold.
Smallest Prayer-Book in the World.
Tho smallest and daintiest prayer
book in tho world is tho “Finger
Prayer-Book” which has just been
issued by the Oxford University Pros*.
It is printed in- diamond and brilliant
type on the famous India paper. It
eontains 670 pages, measures 3j x 1
inches, and weighs only three-quarters
of an ounce. It is arranged for “the
:hatelaino,_thc waistcoat pocket, or the
purse,” and ranges in price from 38
cents to $0.50. Though the paper is
exceedingly thin, it is entirely opaque,
and the type is beautifully clear.