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About North Georgia times. (Spring Place, Ga.) 1879-1891 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 13, 1890)
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.
