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About North Georgia times. (Spring Place, Ga.) 1879-1891 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 20, 1890)
PH GEORGIA TIM ES. JRgladreapS into place. s i ......._ can’t expect pay; the harvest is theirs! So don’t stand in their way Keep moving, keep moving, There’s good work for all; Put a band to the plough, Or go back to the wall. Tlie young men are coming, And old men grown gray. The world needs them all; Friend, don’t stand in the way. — The Danner. THE HEW MIRROR. BY KATE It. OLEARY. “Say yes, love!” “But, my dear girl—” •(Now, Charley, don’the cross!” He was only a few months married. He was head over ears in love with his wife. And just now, when ho felt the touch of the soft, slim fingers on his hair, and looked up into the pretty, petulant, coaxing face above, he found it hard to refuse any request of hers, no matter liow unreasonable. “lam not the least bit cross, dar¬ ling,” be said, leaning back in his chair, and pnliiug both her arms down around his neck; “but don’t you think two hundred dollars is rather high for something we do not really need!’’ “Oh, but we, do, Charley!” she in¬ sisted, eagerly. “A person must have a cheval-glass nowadays. And this is a beauty. Beveled French plate, of course, and all framed in mahogany, the real rose mahogany, you know, and finished with polished brass. Why, Charley, it is a bargain at two hundred dollars! ’ He smiled. The furnishing of tlicir pretty home had alteady cost a god deal. It was a handsome three-story house, on one of the most fashionable residence blocks of the city. “Mrs. Cyrus Cannon has one,” purred ou the entreating voice, “not as handsome as this, though I am sure it ■ ost more.” She jjaused, waiting for the effect of that last shot. In her scheming con¬ sciousness she was well aware no more effective argument could be presented. For had she not refused Cyrus Cannon to marry Charley Merton? He rose, with a lenient laugh, from the richly-appointed breakfast table. “I suppose you must have your way, you little despot!” 4 Oh, you darling!” she cried, rapt¬ urously. she promptly paid .him for his |jfcn by giving him Kilf a dozen kiss. and [pr¬ p fer fash- ■ irown wry SPRING PLACE. GA.. THURSDAY. FEBRUARY 20, 1890. . it sent to her 'with satisfaction tld take in show Jrs. Cyrus Can t ’ ’•%' , ■■ - ■ K 1 : Spft"'’ m i ■ - V '^Prg M:s. Mrr; v. Sin- had h- ■ 1 > her husband, and thus Bv arouses the resentment of ’(^Kcr. To this ride she had re¬ vived to prove herself an agreeable ex¬ ception. So she gave Mr. Roseo her hand and a gracious smile, and invited him up to dinner the following even¬ ing. He had feared that his comradeship with Charley Merton must end with the marriage of the latter. S > it was with repressed surprise and expressed grati¬ tude that ho accepted the invitation. “It's a pity,” she said, with a com¬ passionate sigh, as she was whirled along to the matinee, “that poor Mr. Roseo hasn’t a nice wife and home like Charley!” Which reference evidenced the fact that Mrs. Merton possessed a proper appreciation of her charming self. The curtain had just risen, when a lady entered the theatre, and was ush¬ ered to the seat adjoining that of Mrs. Merton. “Why, Edna!” “My dear Millie!” Though several years older than Edna, Millie Joyce had been her favorite friend. But it was a long time since they had met. A few weeks before E tna’s wedding Millie Joyce had re¬ ceived a summons to the bedside of a sick brother in Dakota, and had only lately returned. So very pleasant, in¬ deed, both ladies found tlie meeting. “I was just speaking to an old friend of Charley’s, ”*aid Mrs. Merton be¬ tween the acts. “I’m not sure that you know liiln. ’ HD name is Roseo. ’’ Millie’s rather faded face flushed brightly. “David Roseo?” “Yes.” “I met him at Waukeshaw five years ago,” she said, a trifle nervously, Mrs. Merton imagined. “A casual acquaintance?” “Well, no! ’ Then in a burst of con¬ fidence: “We were engaged for three months.” “You were?” interestedly, “What broke it oflC?” “Oh, he grew jealous, and—there’s the curtain 1 ’ Very little indeed did Mrs. Merton hear of the last act—diplomatically busy was that bright braiu of hers. “Can’t you?’’ she asked Millie, as to gethev they passed out of the theatre, “come over to dinner tomorrow even¬ ing?” “Tomorrow? Let me see! Yes, I’ll come.” When Mrs. Merton reached home she found her precious mirror there before her. She was still admiring it when Charley reached home. She called to him over the banisters to come up and see her treasure. “Isn’t it lovely, Charley?" “Lovely!” he assented. He was gravely regarding the enthu¬ siastic face in the glass. ^ “But i mean tlie mirror.” ^kt‘I ’A don’t!” staunchly and adoringly. put liis armi around her, and H N j^krt ^^thr-y d«’* , u to dinner together. wero alone in tlicir par way, possessed the i:n:e thotie, „ / > Si I 'V : nr-,;• ti;v to- lav,” she -aid. U I asked him to come up to Irrow. ” ■ nice of you, love.” ■the matinee I met Millie ■ asked her to come, also. ’’ lung—” BKided. ^Kera engaged, once.” Ecnow it. That was why I aslced tr. ” “But tho embarrassment! Neither will-’’ “Oh, you stupid boyi” she laughed ! “wait and see!” The following evening, when Mr. Merton came home, he found his wife’s friend seated by the log fire, whicli it was fashionable that winter to affect, She looked uncommonly well in her krtistic gown of absinthe silk, cut to show the full and white tliroat which was her chief beauty. He lmd just spoken a courteau? wel¬ come, when the door-bell rang. A newt immediately after Mr. ltoseo was ushered in. Ho was a tall, soldierly, well preserved man, gray-hairod and hand¬ some. He started at sight of the figure by the, fireside. Then he went forward. Charley met him and said: “Awfully glad to see you. Dove. Miss Joyce I believe you know.’’ With quickened heart-throbs Dive Roseo faced the music. Ho was tre¬ mendously glad to meet Millie Joycg again. Dinner was announced. To banish the restraint each dreaded, the con¬ versation was kept up with persistent gayety. Suddonly occurred a startling interruption: Bang 1 Fiercely, sharply out rang the report of a revolver. All sprang to their feot'j Blankiy, with blanched faces, they looked around. Charley Merton start¬ ed for (he door. “Oh, don’t!’’ wildly entreated his wife. “You will be killed, dear! Don’t go.” At that very moment a second shot was heard. Merton dashed out and up the stairs, his wife following him; and downv dropped Millie Joyce in u dead faint When she revived, she found herself seated in the host’s chair, and David Kosco bending solicitously over her. He was gently bathing her forehead with water from the carafe. “Are you better, Millie?'’ “Yes, thank you, David;” her color coming back with a rush. “I was all wrong a few years ago, Millie.” “I was too hasty, David.” “But I’ve loved you ever since, Mil lie. > J “And I’ve refused two offers for your sake, David.” “You—ange 1 ,!’’ Wlicu they finally decided to go up stairs and discover the cause of the commotion, they found Mr. and Mrs. Merton ruefully regarding the ruins oi their mirror, which was fractured from side to s'ide. “An attempted burglary,” explained Merton, indicating a half-open satchel uear the window, “The fellow had got his bag filled with jewelry, silver, toilet articles, and whatever he could pick up, when ho observed his reflectior in the mirror, and thinking, probably, that ho was detected, fired at his sup¬ posed enemy the shots we heard.” “See!” cried Edna, half hysteri¬ cally, “here are the marks of his feet on the window-ledge. lie must liafa got out that way—slid down the porch pillar and escaped. My poor, dear, lovely cheval-glass!” “Well,” cried Mciton, with a laugh, ‘ ‘let us be glad he did not get away with his plunder!’’ Late they sat discussing the affair, and when they finally broke up it was David Roseo who saw Miss Joyce home. “Charley,’’ ecstatically confided young Mrs. Merton to her husband, the following night, “Millie has been hero, and she and David Roseo arc going to be married! And it’s all on account of my minor!” ‘•How’s that, dear?” “Why, if I hadn’t bought it the burglar wouldn’t have shot at it. And if he hadn’t shot at it wc wouldn’t have run up-stairs. And if we hadn’t run up-stairs they wouldn’t have had an opportunity to make up.” Charley laughed out in hearty amuse¬ ment. “I really believe I was inspired to buy it,” avowed Edna, solemnly. “Yes, darling,” meekly assented Charley. But he groaned, remembering thu check ho had drawn iu favor of To bey. “Besides,” she cried, convincingly, “if the mirror had not been there you’d have been killed, for that awful man was trying to shoot you.” To this remarkable argument Charley eturned the only reply a woman’s logic hould ever receive—a kiss.— Tht Ledger. First Small Boy—Wo had a fire at our house last night. Second Small Boy—That so? F. S. B.—-Yes. Pa fired sister’s beau. Amy— What an absurd habit that is of young Daily’s, always sucking liis cane. Susie—I think it is a good plant It keeps him from talking, you know. “WELL-SHOOTERS.” An Occupation Fraught With Much Danger. Exploding Cartridges at the Bottom of Wells. Gustave Windmueller is one of the few men in this country known as “well—shooters.” lie resides near Pittsburg, Peun., but is compelled by his business to travel all over tlie couu try. ‘'Shooting a well” consists in let ting down a cartridge of dynamite, nitro- glycerine or other high explosives to the bottom of a well, whether of water, salt, petroleum, natural gas or mineral water, and then exploding it. lit discussing his vocation at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, he said : “It’s a first-class business, and gives a man a handsome income, but it is uot popular. The life insurance people will not issue policies to us, and the rail¬ roads refuse to transport our tools of trade the’ moment they find out what we are carrying. There have been over a hundred men in my calling since I took it up ten years ago, and there are only six left. The rest have disap¬ peared. They are spared the evils of sickness, the death bed and the funeral. They simply vanish. “I once had a partner, a royal good fellow, named Tom Allison, who had no more fear of nitro-glycerino than other people have of champagne. We had received a §250 order to shoot a well for a Philadelphian, who lived near Moyamcnsing. My partner was careless and at times drank a little too much. He started for the well with a heavy cartridge of nitro-glycerinc,and called in at several saloons on his way there. Probably ho staggered and struck the cartridge against a tree. No one will ever know the exact facts. There was an explosion, partner and tree Iiole disappeared, and there was simply a in thi*ground'to till the stfiry. All that was ever found of his remains was his watch chain, and of that only a small piece. As every pane of glass was broken in the neighborhood, I did not report to the authorities.” ‘•What good is ‘shooting a well?’ ” “It increases the flow. The explo¬ sion shatters the rock in every direc¬ tion for 50 feet, and makes a thousand crevices where before there were ten, through which the liquids can flow which are waflted by the well owner above. I have known the operation to change a pumping oil well to a flowing one—to increase the artesian 500 per cent.—and, near Pittsburg, to make a very poor natural gas well one of the best paying properties in tlie district. Sometimes, however, it does no good, and once or twice it has injured the well. Do I like the business? Quito well. Of course, I know I shall vanish some day, like every one elso in my calling, but it is a painless death, and a good one.”— N. F. Star. Strange Savage Dances. Some of the dances of savages are very curious, all being pantomimic in one way or another. A good specimen of the primitive war dance is the Fee Jeo club dance. Savages frequently imitate in their dances the movements of animus, The native Australians have a. “kangaroo dance,” the North American Indians, a “buffalo dance,” and tho Kamsehatkans, a “bear dance.” The most remarkable of known dances is that of tlie natives of New South Wales, who skip arouad the camp fire at night, their arms and legs painted longitudinally with a broad white stripe, and their ribs indicated likewise, so as to mako them look like so many skele¬ tons as they leap about in tho fitful firelight, vanishing, reappearing and vanishing again. The vanishing process is accomplished by simply turning their backs to the fire, tlie stripes being in front. The effect is said, to be exceed¬ ingly weird and ghostly. Perhaps the most extraordinary instance of mimicry in dancing is to be found in New Zea¬ land, where the natives, who are ex ceedingly fond of the sea, imitate in their movements the uneasy motion of the waves. Would Don Another. Augusta—I don’t wish to discourage you in your attentions, Mr. Pussy Wil¬ low, but papa is not incliuel to look favorably on your suit. Algernon—That’s all right. I just got measured for a new one, to-day,_ The Ledger . Vol. X. New Series. NO. 3. Nervousness in Horses. There is one respect in which all the most distinguished trotters have resem¬ bled o ach other, and that is in their nervous energy, in high spirit and cour¬ age. That flame which the Washing, ten Hollow horseman detected in the eye of Flora Temple came out after¬ ward in the resolute burst of speed with which she fiuishcd her fast miles. Dexter was represented as being “chock full of fire and deviltry,” and capable of jumping like a cat. Iliram Wood¬ ruff spoke of his “wicked head.” Goldsmith Maid had a strong will of her own, and the excitement she be¬ trayed on the eve of a race showed how fine was her organization. “She would stand quietly enough,” says her driver, “while being hitched to the sulky, al¬ though she had been previously kick¬ ing and plunging in her stall, but she would shake and tremble until I have heard her make her feet make the same noise against the hard ground that a person’s teeth will when the body is suddenly chilled; that is, her feet act¬ ually chattered on the ground. The instant 1 would get into the sulky all this would pass away, and she would start on a walk for the track as sober as any old horse you ever saw. ” Harm was so nervous that he never could have been driven with safety on the road, and his courage was of the finest temper. St. Julian was exceedingly high strung, and in hands less patient and discreet than those of his trainer might never have been subdued to the purpose of racing. Jay-Eye-See, though I know less of his personal history, is notorious for the pluck he showed on the last quarter of his hard miles; and Maud S. is the most spirited, the most determined, and at the same time the gentlest of animals. This nervous energy is the result of generations of breeding, and, while it insures speed, calls for extra care and attention. Once in a groat while a dull-met tied horse has speed, but the great majority fiepoud upon tlicir nerv¬ energies to ‘ them a*ong. ous carry A well-bred horse scents the battle from afar, and goes into the contest with a readiness that shows not only' a willing spirit, but a desire for the fray, lu scoring, the horse will often give evi¬ dence of as much intelligence as its owner, swinging into line, taking the right position, and showing by every movement its love of the contest. The desire to trot has been secured by the breeding, and is the result of nervous energy stored through geueration.3 and strengthened by education and feeding. A Wonderful Locomotive. On the Big Four road, between Cin¬ cinnati and Indianapolis, is an engine which advances the maximum speed limit enormously. It is one of five en gines built according to the patent o) an inventor named Strong, and is being tested by the Big Four people. The engine is built for both strength and speed, and the tests of it have shown wonderful results. It is claimed for it that it is capable of hauling a heavy passenger train at the rate of from sev enty-five to ninety mi-les an hour, and the tests made, while not severe, have tended to sustain the claim. Superin¬ tendent Bender timed it on an eight mile run east of the city. Tue eight miles were covered in six minutes with perfect ease, not the slightest ovidence of straining being perceptible. The engine itself contains many novel features iu construction. It lias cylin¬ ders in which the steam escapes after it lias been used. It is so arranged as to be a vast improvement over the common arrangement. The boiler is very long and there are two fireboxes. An ingen¬ ious contrivance consumes the gases and smoke, so that economy in the use of fuel is one of the advantages claimed. The fireman has a cab to himself at the rear of the boiler, while the engineer occupies a separate cab perched ou the top of the boiler, a little to the rear of the centre. The engine weighs sixty five tons and rests upon eighteen wheels. I s drivers arc sixty-eight inches iu diameter. Probably tlie fastest run on record was made recently on tlie Canada South¬ ern road by a special tram bearing the Vanderbilt party. The track was straight and fine and the train ran 107 miles in 97 minutes. A Growing Country. Teacher—“How muny States are there?” Bright Boy — “Please, ma’am, I haven’t seen the mnr-ing papers.”— Nero York Weekly. A Lullaby. Bleep, my child, soft night-winds woo Over thy cradle wakes the coo Of mother-lore .Stars in the blue peep one by one, Toil is over, and day is done, Sleep, little dove! Silence deep holds the day-throbbed world, The birds in their trim nests are curled, Their carols hushed; Only the west-wind's music rings, Soothing dreams to the sou! it brings, By sleep-waves rushed. Dream of birds and flowers and trees, Of drowsy hum of busy bees Without alarms; Then when the East with red is flushed, And nature s iaee with gold is brushed, Wake in my arms. —A hui l'icton , in Detroit Free Press. in morois. A cat has nine lives and occasionally a kit-ten. Pan- American— The one they fry beefsteak in. A swallow-tail—The story of Jonah and the whale. A bouncing baby should be imbued with elastic spirits. The green apple is deadly, but not so deadly as the electric currant. A man who wants te get at the root of a matter is not necessarily a hog. The eyes are the windows of the soul, but most of us have pains else where. Tramps ara very much like cheap print goods; Tacy won’t wash, but will run. It is strange thit the man who is dead in love with liimself should be hated by everybody who knows him. “Good morning, Mr. Good, When did you get to town? How did you leave your wife?” “Left he: talkin’.” Jimmy—Say, ms, girnrac a cooky? Mother (who is trying to teach him to be polite)—If you, if you—what, Jimmy? Jimmy—-Welt, if yer got any. Foud Mother—You should remember, my child, the little birds in their nests agree. Johnny—But every once in a while one of ’em falls out. I'm that one. Tom Bookstavcr (in bookstore)—How do you like “Looking Backward?” Miss MoFhmsey—(flushing slightly)—I only just glanced around to see what she had on. A man aroused his wife from a sound sleep the other night, saying that he had seen a ghost in the shape of a don¬ key. “Ohl let mo sleep,” the irate dame rejoined, “anil don’t be fright¬ ened at your own shadow.” The Cedars of Lebanon. The cedars of Mount Lebanon are, perhaps, the best known monuments in the world. Distinguished men have visited them, and their story is told over and over again, There are grave doubts, however, whether the cedar so often mentioned in the Bible was the tree now called tho Cedar of Lebanon. There is no doubt that the cedars of Lebanon in more modern times have been the objects of veneration. The most experienced observer who has seen the cedars on Mount Lebanon is Sir Joseph Hooker, who visited Syria in 1860 for tho purpose of cxntninin the grove, in regard to which little wi known scientifically up to that tim< An account of this visit was publisho' in the Natural History litview in January, 1862, with the author’s views upon tho specific rank and the origin of the different species or forms of the genus. The number of trees is about 400, and these are dis¬ posed in nine groups, corresponding with as many hnmmocks of the range of moraines. They are of various sizes,) from about IS inches to upward of 40 feet in girth; but the most remarkable and . significant ■ fact connected with their size, and consequently with the age of the grove, is that there is no tree of less than IS inches girth, and no young trees, bushes or even seed¬ lings of a second year’s growth. It was supposed, until comparatively re¬ cent times, that all the cedars left upon the earth were in this famous grove. but now they are known to occur upon different chains of the Taurus, where, with other trees, they form extensive forests; while as late as 1865 Mr. Jesup,; an American missionary, discovered five large groves in the Lebanon itself, three east of Ain Zihalteh, in the southern Lebanon, one of which was said to contain 10,000 trees. Other groves wero also discovered at this time,) so that upon the Lebanon alone the cedar is known in 10 distinct localities.
