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NORTH GEORGIA TIMES.
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After the Storm.
The wildest storm must spend its force,
Tbe baffled winds pause with a moan,
■for sunshine struggling through the mist
Clasps the tired earth in shining tone.
So stormy grief will rob of light
The soul that prays for morning’s dawn,
Through black despair in deepest night,
Till hope, and love, and life seem gone.
’Tie then the morning's golden splendor
Dispels the gloom, illumes the way,
Whilst dreamy voices, low and tender,
Whisper, sad heart, behold a perfect day!
—Chicago Journal.
LOTTY’S ADVENTURE.
I was quite young when I went out
to service—only sixteen—and I was
quite frightened at the idea of going
among the grand folks; but father had
not left much, except debts and mort¬
gages, when he died, and mother was
feeble, and there were all the little
children to be taken care of; and
Neighbor Ford told me that they
wanted a parlor-maid at the court.
“There ain’t so much to do,” said
Farmer Ford, “and twelve dollars a
month.”
“Bute servant!” said mother, and
she put her black stuff apron to her
eyes and began to cry in that weak,
uncertain way she had.
“We’re all of us servants, Lydia, to
the Lord,” said Neighbor Ford. “And
if every one of us does his duty in the
state of life where it pleases God to
put us, there ain’t nothing more to be
expected.”
“Mother,” said I, “only think of it!
Twelve dollars a month. How much
it will help us I Oh, mother, I am so
gladr
“The child looks at it right,” said
Neighbor Ford, “She’s got more sense
than you have, Lydia!”
So I went to Christall Court. There
was a housekeeper there, and a butler,
and seven servants besides me, and 1
soon learned to perform the duties of
my place neatly and well.
Mrs. Christall’s maid used to give me
many useful hints—she was a quiet,sub¬
stantial Englishwoman whom the fami¬
ly had brought from foreign parts with
them. But her brothorfell ill, and she
Went home to nurse him, and there
came a fine French mademoiselle in her
place, whom they called Mademoiselle
Veronique. She spoke two or three differ¬
ent languages, dressed hair like a fash¬
ion plate, altered over Mrs. Christall’s
bonnets and dresses until her wardrobe
seemed twice as large and varied, and
had a score of other accomplishments
at her finger ends. Mrs. Christall said
she was “a perfect treasure;” the old
housekeeper laughed until her
sides ached, at Veronique’s stories;
the footman fell deeply r in love
with her, and all the other maid9 copi ed
her dresses, repeated her smart sayiags,
and strove, in various ways, to imitate
her. But I kept quietly aloof. Some¬
how I was afraid of Mademoiselle Ver¬
onique. She had great, luminous green
eyes like those of a cat; she showed her
teeth, in glistening double rows, when
■he laughed, and, although she was al¬
ways priding herself onhor complexion,
I am quite sure it was powder and
paint.
She came smiling to mo ono night—‘
it was of a Sunday evening, I remem¬
ber, when I was sitting by the window
reading my hymn-book, and wondering
what mother and the children were do¬
ing.
“Here is ma petite Lottee,” she said.
‘‘The shy bird who shrinks away from
Jitut I havo eyes, Lottee,
«N>dI £mve jf&i alnaxjymade myself to per
itffe very pretteo. Ah!
Hay jfenotfthenruthi And you shall put
a ipse in those brown braids, Lottee,
and i -dance tonight. Peter is going,
and Felix and Amanda; and the coach¬
man, who proves himself most amiable,
will take us in the wagonette. ’’
“But it is Sunday evening,” said 1.
Mademoiselle Veronique made a
grimace.
“We are not Puritans, Lottee,” said
■he. “We have all been to the church
today. Why not make a little simple
enjoyment tonight, like the peasants of
ma belle Normandiet Madame dines
out; the children, with their good,
heavy-headed nurse, will be asleep—’
“Did Mrs. Christall say—’’
“Madame knows nothing—absolutely
nothing,” reiterated Veronique, impa¬
tiently. “Are we poor servant* to be
always slaves! Come, ma petite. The
good Felix especially wishes to danco
with you, and I have promised him
that you will be there.”
Felix was the upper gardener who
arge of the green-houses nnd
SPRING PLACE. GA.. THURSDAY. MARCH 13, 1890.
graperies; a spare, livid-faced, little
man, whom I especially disliked.
•‘It is Sunday evening,” said I; “I do
not wish to go. I have been brought
up to spend Sunday evening quietly at
home.”
And Mademoiselle Veronique’s per¬
suasions, flatteries and blandishments
were in vain.
They all went. I could hear them
returning at one o’clock in the morn¬
ing, tiptoeing past my bedroom door;
and their descriptions of the festive
gathering at the breakfast-table next
day were enthusiastic in tho extreme.
“There’s to be a hop Friday night
week,” said Felix, “with a baud from
Mincaster. Lotty will go this time, I
am quite certain, if I ask her; and Mr.
and Mrs. Christall will bo in New York
that night for the Charity Ball.”
I looked gravely at him.
“Do you think it will be right,
Felix?” said I.
“Oh, bah!” Mademoiselle Veronique
interjected, with extreme disgust.
“I’m quite sure there can be nothing
wrong about it,” said Felix.
“Then, why do you not ask Mrs.
Christall boldly to lot you go?” I ques¬
tioned.
They looked blankly at one another
—and before they could answer, Mrs.
Hood, the housekeeper, came in, and
a signal for silence was passed around.
“Friday night week!” It came before
we knew it, almost. Mr. aud Mrs.
Christall went to the Charity Ball, the
latter so superbly dressed that tho ser¬
vants gathered in a littlo group behind
the butler's pantry door to sco her go
out in her diamonds and pink silk. Old
John, the elder coachman, was to wait
at Slington station to bring them back
at 3 o’clock—the other coachman,
Thompson, was in "league with Veron¬
ique and her friends, and was to harness
up the wagonette as soon as the coast
was fairly clear for Veioiliquo, Hatty,
Julia and Felix.
“And Lotty might go, too, if sho
only would,” said Hatty, reproach¬
fully.
“I don’t think it’s right,” said L
Mrs. Hood had goue to see hor
daughter at Slington, leaving the house
in Julia’s charge, for Julia had been
there somo time and was regarded as
quite trustworthy; the old Butler always
went to bed at nine; so that when the
wagonette was off I was the only per¬
son loft about the place, And I had
hardly seated myself by the fire with
needlework before there cams a tap at
the door.
I started, for I was nervous and
easily frightened, and the house seemed
unnaturally largo and lonesome in the
quiet evening silence. It wai a little
boy—a slunteJ, big-eyed' creature—
whom I did not remember to have,seen
in the neighborhood before.
“Are you Letty Lee?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered, in surprise.
“It’s your mother," said he. • “She’s
fell on tho ice and broke her leg. She
wants you right off.”
“How did it happen?” I cried, burst¬
ing into tenn. “Who told you?”
“I can’t stay,” said he. “They’ve
sent me for a doctor, and I ain't to de¬
lay a second.”
And off he scudded, his small figure
seeming to lose itself in the black
masses of evergreen on the lawn.
What was I to do? I knew that
Johnson, the butler, slept like a log of
wood, and there was no one else about
the house.
“I can just run down home and be
in half an hour," thought I. So
I locked the door, saw that the fire was
all right, and started off across the dark
copses and frozen fields.
At the mill I saw a light burning, and
stopped to inquire of old Mr. Dawson,
whose wife was our nearest neighbor, as
to the extent of tho accident.
“Is mother much hurt!” said I. He
looked amaze!, and I proceeded to ex¬
plain myself more fully.
“They’ve fooled you, my girl,” said
he. ‘Tve just come from there—and
your mother's as well and sound as
ever she was in her life.”
A sudden light seemed to flash across
me. Something was wrong. There
was some under-current of malicious
purpose bidden under all this tissue of
falsehood. And I saw in the eyes of
Harry Dawson, the miller’s tall son,
who stood beside me, that he, too,
shared my ideas.
“Father,” said he, “all isn’t right.
Call the Ford lads. Let us go up to
Christall Court with Lotty.”
“Eh?" said Mr. Dawson. “You
don’t suspect—”
“Idon’t know what I do suspect,
father,"said Harry, hurriedly buttoning
coat. “Hut I know all isn’t as it
be.”
We came up to the C irt, a little
of us, iu the frozen silence of the
winter night, and found that it was as
Harry Dawson had suspected. Christall
Court was in the possession of three
men whose tools, scattered around, pro¬
claimed them to be professional burg¬
lars, while the poor old butler, fast
asleep at the top of the house, never
dreamed that aught was amiss. But,
expert as were these thieves, the Bturdy
strength and superior numbers of our
party were too much for them. They
were overpowered and bound—and
when the wagonotte came home with
its load of cross and sleepy servants,
it served to carry the captivos to the
county jail.
It proved that ono of them was Vo*
ronique's brother—and that the French¬
woman herself was in league with them.
Veroniquo left the country, abruptly;
all the other servants, except Mrs.
Hood, Old John and the butler, were
discharged—and I am Mrs. Christall’s
own maid, now.
To bo sure, it isn’t much of an ad¬
venture, but such as it is, I have told it
as plainly as I could remember.— Tho
Lodger.
Thirsty Travelers’ Tree.
A European traveler,on his way from
the coast of Madagascar to the capital,
Tananarive, m the interior, had emp¬
tied his water-flask and was suffering
from thirst. He asked one of the na¬
tives of his party when he should be
able to obtain water.
“Any time you like it,” said tho na¬
tive, smiling.
The European saw no signs of springs
or water; but the native conducted him
to a group of tall, palm -like trees,
standing in a cluster on the edge of the
forest, with straight trunks and bright
green, broad leaves growing from tho
opposite sides of the stalk, and mak¬
ing tho troe appear like a great fan.
Tho whitman gaze4,Admiringly at tha
tree.
“You think it is a fine tree,’’said the
native, “but I will show you what it is
good for.”
He pierced the root of one of the leaf
stems at the point where it joined the
tree with his spear, whereupon a stream
of clear water spurted out which the
European caught in his water can, and
found cool, fresh and excellent to drink.
Tho party having satisfied their thirst
end taken supper, the native who had
spoken went on,
“This tree, which is good for us in
more ways than one, wo call the travel
ers’ tree.”
“But where does tho water come
from that the tree contains,” asked tho
white man. “Is it taken up from the
soil!”
“Oh, no," said the native, “The
leaves drink in the rain that falls on
them and when it has passed all through
them it becomes very pure and sweet.”
The Earth Growing Larger.
The earth, traveling in its orbit
around the sun and onward with tho en¬
tire solar system around some unknown
and still greater centre of attraction, is
constantly traversing new regions of
space, which it depletes of meteoric
dust and meteorites, thus steadily—no
matter how slowly—increasing in diam¬
eter. Now let this growth continue till
the earth has just twice the attractive
power which it now possesses, we
should then have twice the number of
meteorites and d ouble the quantity of
dust falling annually upon it than
now.
Fortunately for our beads, the earth
has not yet attained very formidable
dimensions, but we may look upon it as
an established fact that it constantly
gains in weight, and that in proportion
to such gain its attractive power steadi¬
ly increases.
The attractive force of the sun is »o
enormous that a perpetual hail of mete¬
orites and a torrent of dust particles
must rush upon it from all directions,
and some of the foremost observers are
now of opinion that these falling
bodies are the Bole cause of the sun’s
heat.
in the light of this theory our earth
is a young and growing, not an old and
dying planet; a planet with a future,
which ought to be cheerful news to all
of us, although we shall not live to reap
tho benefit of it, and the sun, for from
being on its last legs as an expiring
luminary, is steadily gaining in beat
and lighting capacity.— American Gealo*
gist.
VALUABLE REFUSE.
New York City Sells Her Rub¬
bish for $80,000 a Year.
How the Contractor Who Buys
it Makes a Profit.
Those roaders who noticed that Giu¬
seppe Labiole had bid $1,553 per week,
or over $30,000 p;r year, for the privi¬
lege of doing the work of “trimming - ’
the scows of tha Street Cleaning De¬
partment, says the New York Sun,
might have supposed that Mr. Labiole
was ono of those patriotic citizons whoso
delight in serving their country is suffi¬
cient reward for their labor in keeping
the machinery of government moving.
Indeed, Mr. Labiole not only, under
hi3 contract, has to work himself for
the city, but he must pay a hundred or
so other men, at the rate of $1 per day,
to work for tho city, too, nnd as he
must besides have carts and horses of
his own, it is probab.o that his yearly
expenditures upon his work for the
city are nearly $100,000. Of course
the fact that Mr. Labiolo gets for him¬
self all ho chooses to pick out and car¬
ry off the refuse that is dumped into
the city’s street-cleaning scows, looks
like an explanation of his willingness
t# pay so high for tho office of “scow
trimmer,” but even theu it seems ab¬
surd to suppose that what a man can
find in garbage, ashes, and street dirt
would be worth over $250 a day.
But Mr. Labiole expects to make it
pay at that rate, and as the city lias
been getting $1100 por wook for the
same work, and the contractor getting
rich for a yoar past, it is probable that
Mr. Labiole’s head is nearer lovel than
his figures indicate.
To hear that such a fortune should
be paid annually for the privilege of
raking ovor the city’s dirt and money
bo mado out of the job, brings up vis¬
ions o[ vast quantities of silverware,
VJ'JVels, coins and ^occasional rolis of
bills, lost or thrown away by careless
servants, tumbled about from ash-can
to cart, and so on down to the scows
and the eager fingers of Mr. Labiolo.
But as a matter of fact, Mr. Labiolo
gets none or next to nono of this part
of the city's waste. In regard to any¬
thing v jfuablo and small enough to go
into a packet, ‘ ‘findings is havings” ou
the city »cows, no matter if somebody
is paying $80,000 a yoar for the privi¬
lege of sorting tho dirt, What the
contractor depends upon to bring him
back his money is tho pick of the or¬
dinary refuse, consisting of bones, rags
and tin cans, which are valuable in tlio
order named. The cans are worth the
lead that is in the solder, but bonc3
and rags are put to numbcrloss uses.
Formerly the city hired three cr
four men to each scow to do ‘ ‘trim¬
ming,” that is, to stand below tho
dump and spread tho dirt out level
with shovels as fast as the carts
dumped it down from the pier. This
had to be done, of course, to prevent
the scow from being unevenly loaded.
The mon were paid $1.50 per day and
kept whatever they picked up out of
the refuse. , When Street Commissioner
Coleman came into offico he had a
bright idea. It occurred to him that
a smart man might bo able to make
enough out of what he could pick from
the refuse to find it worth his while to
hire men to do the “trimming.” Such
a man was quickly found, but ho hadn’t
had the job long before letters began
to come in from other men offering to
pay the city for the privilege of “trim¬
ming” the scows. The best offer at
first was $75 per week, and this the
commissioner accopted. Whenever he
got a higher offer he made applicants
for the work bid over again, and finall y
the price got up to $200 por week. By
this time the matter had become so im¬
portant that the commissioner concluded
to make it a regular contract business
and advertise for bids. The first year
it went to a man who bid $700 per
week. It struck the $1,100 mark at
the next bidding and now, the third
year, it is up to $1,552.
The fact that the city now gets $80,
000 per year for what it once paid to
have done does not indicate that any¬
body else formerly got tho $80,000 that
now comes to tho city. When nothing
was paid for it nothing was made from
it, and the increase in the price paid
for tho privilege is simply an indication
of improvement in the efficiency in the
work of raking the valuable stuff out
of the dirt. The contract might be
worth even mote if the city would
Vol. X. New Series. NO. <i.
accommodate itself to the convenience
of the contractor, for with dirt dumped
on the scows one load at a time il
would be easy for two or three men to
rescue every bone and rag from the
rubbish; but, of course, all the city
does is to get the dirt aboard ihe scows
as rapidly as possible, and when twenty
cart-loads come over together, or nearly
so, it is impossible for the contractor’s
men to inspect more than a small por¬
tion of it.
The Chinese Minister at Washington.
Ihe present Chinese Minister is very
exclusive in his habits, His prede
cessor was ono of the most agreeable
and popular men in society, and was
always to be seen wherever anything
interesting was going on, and all the
attaches of the legation also took an
activo part in the gayetios of Wash¬
ington. Tho present minister, Mr.
lien, not only does not propose to in
dulgo in social festivities himsolf, but
has prohibited tho attaches of tho le
gstion from doing so, which deprives
Washington society of soma of its most
attractive ornaments. Mr. Hen is the
first Chinese minister to the United
States to bring his wife with him, but
he might as well have left her at home
so far as the outside world is concerned,
for she, it is understood, will remain a
recluse.
A prominont gentleman and lady in
this city, writes a Washington corre
spondent of the Chicago Ninos, who
lived somo time in China and have been
very intimate at the Legation ever sinco
it was established hore, called upon the
Minister and his wife tho other after¬
noon, having first given notice of their
intention to do so. The Minister re*
ccived them very cordially in the parlor
upon their arrival and sent a servant for
his wife, who came down wearing a
coronet of gold and diamonds. She is
a little woman, not bigger than a child
of ten years, and her feet are so small
that she could scarcely walk across the
room. She chatted pleasantly, how¬
ever, through an interpreter, and as tha
caller was the first American lady she
had ever come in contact with shcjjiod
a great many curious question# to ask
about tho manners and customs of
women in this country.
A fow days later the call was returned
with great ceremony, and then followed
an invitation to dinner. The Minister
accepted for himself, but sont his wife’s
regrets, with an explanation that, as
she had never dinod except in the Chi¬
nese fashion, she desired to be excused.
SUo was informod that there would be
no other guosls, but held to her refusal,
and sent as a peace offoring a hand¬
somely carved chest filled with the
richest silks, which will form a portion
of tho trousseau of the young lady of
tho family, who is soon to be married.
The Minister came to the dinner, but
not being used to the knives and forks
at the table found much difficulty in
eating. About all the poor man could
get to his mouth was bread and olives.
Powdered Milk.
The idea of reducing cow’s milk to
a powder, nnd shipping it m this con¬
dition ovor all the world, seom3 to have
first originate! with Dr. Krueger, a
Swiss savant, and under his manage¬
ment a company was organized to make
milk powder in Switzerland.
It is claimed that milk in this form
is much better than canned or con¬
densed milk for one reason—it has no
sugar in it. It well known that con¬
densed milk cannot be used in many
departments of cooking on account of
this sugar, and this also makes it ob¬
jectionable for use with very young
children; not that sugar itself is in¬
jurious to babies, for it is always put
into their milk, wo believe, but it is
better that this sugar be put in fresh
at the time of preparing milk for the
child.
How far this powdered milk will an¬
swer these objections remains to be seen.
Ono thing is certain—the powder would
be much better for transportation, and
more handy to have in the house than
either plain or condensed milk, pro
vided it is a success.
It looks somewhat dubious as a com¬
plete substitute for plain milk, not only
on account of necessary expense, but
we do not find any kind of food capa¬
ble of being thoroughly dried and after¬
wards made over with water so as to
closely resemble tho original article,
and wo never expect to see it done with
cow’s milk.
Nature has a way of mingling these
things that thui far man has not been
able to closely iwdt a frf .
Light and Love.
If light should strike through every dark¬
ened place
How many a deed of wickedness and of
shame
Would cease, arrested by its gentle grace,
And striving virtue rise, unscathed by
blame!
The prisoner in his cell new hopes would
frame,
The miner catch the metal’s lurking
trace,
The sage would grasp the ills that harm our
race,
And unknown heroes leap to sudden
fame. • •
If love for one short hour had perfect sway,
How many a rankling sore its toucb
would heal,
How many a misconception pass away
And hearts long hardened learn to fool;
What sympathies would awake, what feuds
decay,
If perfect love might reign for one short
day! —New Orleans
ricayune.
1IUMOUOUS.
It is bettor to havo a turnup nose
than a cabbage head.
The flannel shirt is so modest that it
shrinks from day to day. f
Is a gun thought to be doing great
execution when it hangs fire ?
A prudent man is like a pin; his
head prevents him going too far.
When the man said figures do not lie,
ho did not allude to figures of speech.
Culture does not make a gentleman.
A regular beet may bo a cultivated
thing.
“Silence is golden," said the wit
who wrote and sold his joke, instead
of telling it.
A morning paper asks, “Is the Indian
dying out!” He is not dying out so
much as formerly. As ho becomes more
civilized he goes in to die.
Inquisitive Citizen—What’s the mat¬
ter with the man! Been run over by a
railroad train! Ambulance Surgeon—
Worse than that. He was caught
among the women in a bargain rush at
Seller.’s.
A good thing can bo carried too far.
A Boston man, who had been told that
he was about to die, asked .‘the doctor*
for his bill, saying that he'did not
wish to depart from his life-long ruley
“Pay as you go.”
Station Master—Come, come, my
good man! You mustn’t walk on the
track. Tramp (disgustedly)—Tho
conductor says I can't ride, and you say
I can’t walk. What’s your blamed old
road here for, anyhow!
Mamma—Bobby, I noticed that your
little sister took the smaller apple. DM
you let her have her choice, as I told
you to! Bobby—Yes, I told her she
could havo the little ono or none, and
she choso the little one.
Young lady (to editor)—I have such
a pretty little story with me. Can you
use it! Editor—Oh, certainly; we can
use anything here. (To office boy)
Jimmy, put a fow more manuscripts in
the stove; the room is growing cold.
“Oh, Marie, I’m afraid I’ll have to
got rid of my poor Fido. They say
that pugs will be out of fashion this
season, and every one ought to have a
poodle." “Well, that is too bad. But
couldn’t you have the poor little fellow
altered! ’
Always Employed—Benevolent Per
Bon (to tramp)—What do you usually
do in the winter time! Tramp—Wait
fer summer. Benevolent Person—
And what do you do when summer
comes! Tramp (resignedly)—Bogin
to wait fer winter.
Cremation reduces the human body
to a little paper of ashe3 which a post¬
age stamp will carry any distance with¬
in the bounds of the country. Stingy
people can congratulate themselves on
the economical rates of travel in store
for their remains.
Feeling For Animals.
The power of feeling for animals,
realizing their wants and making their
pains our own, is one which is most ir¬
regularly shown by human beings. A
Timon may have it and a Howard be de¬
void of it A rough shepherd’s heart
may overflow with it and that of an ex¬
quisitely fine gentleman and distin¬
guished man of science may be as utter¬
ly without it as the nether millstone.
One thing I think must be clear—till
man has learned to feel for all bis sen¬
tient fellow-creatures, whether in human
or brute form, of his own class and sex
and country or of another, he has not
yet ascended the first step towards true
civilization nor applied the first lesson
from the love of God.— Picayune.