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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.
