Newspaper Page Text
m 3%| SXFM :•
-
' jpjT' 1 ' * m . ’ ■ ' im , m M ■ I ' 1 A '{*2= m ES
.
: -r i ’ mm
; - *■'.-•
■
- -
rietor
h Like a Ship.
X nw a freighted ship come in
: ■- From off a distant cruise,
I heard the glad and merry din
That spread the welcome news; ; .
I saw how all the people ran,
I saw the colors dip—
For every ship is like a man,
Andmanis likea ship.
I saw a ship on a foreign shore
. Wrecked by an angry wave,
Its sailors ne’er could man it more,
The ocean was their grave;
But no one came relief to plan,
No colors flew to dip—
Foi every ship i* like a man, v i
And man is like a ship.
—Doom li. It Gregor.
ROSIftE’S ROMANCE.
BT KATE If. CXBART.
When Miss Magnolia carefully with¬
drew the d ress from the great cedar
trunk, unpinned the old damask table¬
cloth which enveloped it, and spread
out its shining folds for the admiration
of her niece, Rosine, that young lady
clasped her pretty bands and quoted
Keats.
«« i A thing of beauty if a joy forev¬
er!”’ ah. said.
Miss Magnolia nodded and smiled.
She was altogether unlike the large,
fair, splendid flower, after which she
had been chyletoned—almosRgrotesquo
ly unlike, in fact. She was small and
round, and brown, as a maiden lady of
a decidedly certain age could be. In¬
deed she reminded one of nothing so
much as a little russet apple. But her
heart, which had been full of senti¬
ment once; was a warm and sensitive
organ still. And she took a deal of
interest in Il mine’s romance.
“Yes, my dear, it ia a thing of
beauty 1 And to think I never wore it
but * twice. D.-ar, dear!” And sho
went on stroking the primrose sati t,
tenderly as a mother touches the hair
of a child.
“You had a lover then, auntie?’
asked Rosine.
“Yes, pet,' this is oner of the dresses
I got for my marriage, But he went
away,—on business, he said. And he
never came back.’ ’
Hastily she wiped her eyes lest a
tear should stain tho shimmering stuff
she held. “It is just the gown for
your fancy dress ball,” hurried on Miss
Magnolia. “A trifle short, of course,
but there is quite a piece turned in at
the top that you could let down. You
shall go as a lady of long ago.”
“Not so very long ago,” protostod
Rosine, with a laugh. “But really,
auntie, I don’ t like to take it. It is
too lovely!’’ .■ ■ ' j'
‘ Not for a raiment of war! Remem
ber yog are going to conquer the
dragon !** ;
“That is so. And the master should
have written, ‘Thrice is she armed who
wears a pretty dress!’”
Tho foe against whom Miss Rosine
WiWe purposed arraying herself was
the obdurate uncle of her handsome
lovpr. Most promptly and perversely
had he opposed the marriage of his
nephew. ■pie young fellow would
have ignored the tefirial 8f his relative,
were it . apt the old gentleman had
always been very kind and good to
him; had indeed taken the place of his
dead father to him. So he decided
that Rosine should meet his uncle and
put his prejudice to rout. '
of ,uf>, his, ^ Cyril C0 ,?i had Dg , t0V -said—“Judge ; i 1 Sitan 0ld fri Char- ° ad
treau You know the Chartreau fam
tly.. Of course you have heard they are
gorag to g.v* a fancy dross ball next
monthinhonoroftheoqamgoutoftheir
daughter, Lissette. You will receive a
meet c^You.wilh Uncle Albert.^ attend. And you ’You will take will
enthusiastically had he explained it.
But Rosine pebtested. IE 'was to be a
grand ball, and she had nothing to
wear. Besides, she did not like the
idea of plotting to make a person like
her.
“Bless you,” ojied Cyril, “he doesnR
even
a
general, not particular. As soon as I
told girl/ie—he him I,was ip lovo with a Southern
(I have to drop into slang,
Rosine)—he, sat square flown on me.
It seems a Southern girl jilted him
when he was young, and he is bound to
save me from a like awful fate. But
when once ho sees you, he is bound to
capitulate. He is a regular old brick—
Uncle Albert.”
“But I have nothing to wear. And,
whfct’fe^more, I can’t buy a dress for
SPRING PLACE. GA.. THURSDAY. APRIL 10, 1890.
the Ohartreau ball. We—Aunt Mag¬
nolia and I—are poor as the proverbial
church mice.”
But just then M'*s Magnolia came to
Rosine’s relief like a regular little fairy
godmother.
“The very thing!” she cried—“my
primrose satin!' 1
Rosine regarded her dubiously, de¬
lightedly.
Jealously she knew had her aunt al¬
ways guarded her trunkful of treasures,
her jewels, her laces, her rich, stiff,
glistening old brocades.
“po you mean if, auntie!”
Mias Magnolia’s bright old eyes
winked very rapidly indeed.
’ ‘*1 do, dear! I myself
my was young
onec.”
And that was how Rosine Wilde
came to be the belle of Madame Chat*
treau’s fancy dress ball. The proposed
festivity bad bcou the talk of New
Orleans for several weeks. The night
long anticipated was cool, crisp, sweet
and pearly. Brilliantly lighted was
the broad-balconied old residence on St.
Charles street. Many a carriage rolled
up, rolled off. When Rosine descended
from the barouche of her chaperon she
felt a little nervous, a little elated, and
conscious that she was looking uncom¬
monly well—ns indeed she was. Quite
a picture was the pretty young figure, in
tho clinging gown of pale yellowish
satin, picturesquely puffed and quaintly
fashioned. The corsage, cut roundly,
revealed the firm, full throat. Dainty
mouseskin swathed the arms, which, if
slender, were also exquisitely rounded.
And the small, olive- tinted face yra* llt
to lovelinew by pansy-black eyes. A
flash of adoration succeeded the serene
nonchalance of Cyril Rodney’s counte¬
nance, as ho caught sight of her. He
made his way tc her side.
“Quoon Rosinel” he murmured. “I
wonder ii you know that you're by far
tho prettioit girl hero to-night! Poor
Uucle Albert!—how'complete will bo
his surrender! Now, prepare to face
the mus ot”
And off he went! Be soon returned.
By his side was a sturdy oi l gentle¬
man. .
Rosine’s heart beat more rapidly.
Silvery hair had the dragon. A dark
mustache had the dragon. A florid
complexion had the dragon. And a
manner that Was grave, dignified, cour¬
teous.
“Uncle Albert,” explained Cyril,
with boyish eagerness, “this is Miss
Rosine Wilde.”
Wilde! The old gentleman startod
perceptibly. He # looked at the blush*
ing girl—it the yellowish gown. He
bowed. \
“Aud,” avowed young Rodney,
Sending his sweetheart a swift smile of
encouragement, “and—the young lady
of whom I spoke to you.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Albert Ellsworth.
Then interrogatively: “Wilde? Was
your father’s name Clayton Wilde?”
Rosine assente 1.
“And your mother’s maiden name
was Magnolia Kingsley! ’
“Oi», dear, no! Aunt Magnolia was
never marriel. My mother’s name was
Madeline Kingsley.”
“Eh?” cned the dragon,
The florid color had faded from his
cheeks. He war tugging nervously at
his mustache. He looked-agitated, per
p i exe a
“My mother died ten yearn ago,”
<*!<* Rosine, “and since then I have
H ve d with Aunt Magnolia.”
Mr . Ei i 3Worth regard od her grimly.,
l<ls th< - he Mked abru tly .. J0Ur
aunt > s gown you haTO on! -,
The >oft r08e .fl re i tt the girl’s cheek
deepened
t^ow in the world did you know!”
ghe couater . questioncd .
A constrained silence .endued. Cyril
g ave jji 9 uncle an astonished glance,
“So Magnolia is an old maid?” said
Mr. Ellsworth, abruptly.
“If she is,” cried Rosine, stung to
defence by a remark she chanced to
consider rude, “it is because she was
true to a lover who proved unworthy of
her!"
“Eh!" ejaculated Mr. Els worth,
more sharply than before. And sud¬
denly he turned and walked away.
The following day he insisted on ac¬
companying his naphew to the gaunt,
ramshackle, once aristocratic old home
in the French quarter, where dwelt
Rosine. As thoy were passing the
vaulted entrance to the little flagged
court-yard, Albert Ellsworth caught
sight of a familiar figure moving among
the potted palms and boxes of blooms.
“Qo on, lad 1” he said to Cyril. He
had paused, and was looking through
the brief aVenue of gleotn to the bright*
ness: beyond.
Cyril was about to question this new
vagary, when the thought of a peculiar
possibility made him catch his breath
and- do as bidden. He knocked at the
barred black door, and was admitted to
Rosine’s radiant presence. And mean¬
while his uncle went into the court¬
yard. The little- old lady standing by
the banana tree looked up at the sound
of the step on the stones.
“Magnolia!” he cried.
Miss Magnolia gazed at him in a
dazed, half-frightened kind of way.
Did ghosts ever appear in the daytime!
Stouter than he whom she had known,
and with hair grown gray. But the
same. Around her, in a fantastic
dance, the broken fountain, the long
leaved banana aey, and the giant ole
anders went- whirling. She didn’t
faint, but she o»n;- nearer to it than
she ever bad come in her life.
“Did you think hal deserted you
Hagnolia! When I left you to go
North on business, I believed in you as
I’ve never believed iu any one since,
And while away I heard, and read, that
you had married that young Wilde I
used to be so jealous of. So I went to
Europe. And I slayod there. ”
‘•But Clayton Wilde married
Madeline. I always told you he came
to see her. ’
“Yes, I know that—now. I was a
fool to have been so easily convinced of
your, falsity. You haven’t changed a
bit, I knew you the moment I saw
I ou -” ^
Mbs Magnolia smiled delightedly,
She did not know he had expected to
see her. a
“I never forgot the dress you wore
tho last time I saw you,” declared Mr,
Ellsworth, waxing fervent. “I recog
nized it on yonr niece last night.”
“Last night! Are you—surely you
are not the dragon!' 1 *
“Wh-at?” * t ’
“The—tho dragon!” faltered .Miss
Magnolia. #
Mr. Ellsworth.still looked blank.
“That,” murmered the little lad/,
feeling she was in for it, and might as
well make a clean breast^ “was what
Rosino and I c tiled Cyril’s uncle. And
Rosine warding to conquor him. ” K
“Well, she did. The boy shall
marry Madeline’s pretty daughter. And
you, Magnolia,—you’ll marry me!”
“Oh, dear, no! l’mtooold."
“Not a day. ”
“And ugly—now.”
“Loveliest woman in tho world to
me, ” insisted tho dragon, loyally.
“Bless you, ray children 1” cried a
voica from above.
The pair in the court-yard glanced
up. On one of the inner balconies,
stood Rosino and OyriL
“Vanish, you scamps!” roared the
dragon.
“I shan’t allow yon to marry a South¬
ern girl, air!” shouted back Cyril, as
he and Rosine beat a brisk retreat.
Laughing and breathless they faced
eacltother in the old drawing-room.
“Everything’s lovely, sweetheartl"
cried Cyril, in an ecstacy.
Rosine looked doliciously doleful.
“That’s just the trouble!” with a
pout so provokingly pretty that her
lover Jrissed her there aud then, “if
he had only remained hard-hearted,
like the uncles in novels, we could have
run away, and liyed in a cottage ‘bow
ered in roses, and covered with thatch!'
There isn’t a bit of Romance when
everything turns out so beautifully—all
at once. ”
“You little hypocritel’’ he said.—
The Ledger. ffl
Opposed to Theatre-going Clergymen.
Queen Victoria appears to have a
prejudice against clergymen who go to
the theatre. She is said to have struck
out the names of clergymen from the
lists of her guests invited to see the
theatrical representations at Osborne,
whereupon the London correspondent
of the Liverpool Mercury remarks:
“Her Majesty proves by this exclusive¬
ness that she is not in touch with tjie
new tone in clerical circles. When
Dean Milman went to the theatre some
40 or 50 years ago, be was supposed to
have created a shocking scandal. Now
most of the clergy go to the theatre
a*d tMnk nothing of it. I saw a Bishop
in the stalls, it is true, but I have seen
an Archdeacon. I have talked with a
Dean on tho steps of the Lyceum Thea¬
tre; and as for curates, why the London
citrate is,as Voltaire said of the prophet
Habbakuk, capable du tout. {
7 k UNIQUE" WILL
The Earliest Known Document
in Existence.
An Instrument. That was Drawn
up 4500 Years ago.
The discovery in Egypt of the earliest
known will is an event which possesses
an interest for others besides lawyers;
and there seems no reason to question
cither tlj» authenticity or antiquity of
the unique document which Flinders
Petrie has unearthed at Kahun, or, as
the town was known 4510 years ago,
Hiahun. The document is so curiously
modem in foira that it might almost bo
granted probate today. But in any
case, it may be assumed that it- marks
one of the earliest epochs oflogal his
tory, and curiously illustrates the con
tinuity of legal methods. It is, Itow
£ver, needless to labor tho value social
iy, legally, and historically of a will
that datos back to patriarchal timos. It
consists of a settlement made by one
gokhenren, in the year 44, second
month $f F rt, day 19—that is, it is
estimated, the 44th of Amenemhat
HI., 0 r 2550 B. C., m favor of
his .brother, a priest of Osiris, of nl*
his property and goods; and of
another document, which bears date
from tho time of Amcnemhat IV., or
2548 B. C. This latter instrument is,
i n f orm( nothing more or less than a
will, by which, in phraseology that
m&ht well be used today, tho testator
settles upon his yrife Teta all tho prop
ertv given him b| his brother for life,
but forbids her in categories! terms to
pull down the houses, “which my
brother built for me, ” although it. cm
powers her to give them to any of her
children that sho pleases. A “Lieuton
ant” Sibu is to act as guardian of tho
infant children: This remarkable in
atrument is \vitno%ied by two scribe^.
with an attestation* clause that might*1
almost'hay* teen ^drafted yesterday.
-^papyrus is a vajunbl% contri butio n
to tho study of ancient Iand shows,
with a graphic realism, what a pitch of
civilization the ancient Egyptians had
reached—at least from a lawyer's point
of view. It has hitherto been believed
that in the infancy of the human
race wills wore practically unknown,
Th ore , probably, nover was a time wheu
testaments in some form or other did
not exist, but, in tho earliest ages, It
has, so far, been assumed that they
were nover written, but wore nuncupa
tory, or delivered orally, probably at
.
the deathbed of the testator. Among
tho Hindus to this day the law of suc
cession hinges upon the due solemniza¬
tion of fixed ceremonies at the dead
man’s funeral, not upon any written
will. And it is because early wills
werfc verbal only that their history is so
obscure. It has been asserted that
among the baibuian races the bare con¬
ception of a will was unknown; that
we must search for the infancy of tes¬
tamentary dispositions in the early
Rnman law. Indeed, until the ecclesias¬
tical power assumed the prerogative of
intervening at every break ia the suc¬
cession of the family, wills did not
come into vogue in tho We3t. But Mr.
Petrie’s papyrus seems to show that the
system of settlement or disposition by
deed or will was long antecedently prac
ticed in the East.— London Standard.
No Danger.
“John! John! Wake up!” “What
is the matter, Maria!” “I hear a noise
in the kitchen. Go down quick and
see what it is. Maybe if s a burglar.”
“Mrs. Billus, what do you consider the
actual cash value of the silver and
plated ware and other stealable articles
in the kitchen?’’ “There’s $10 worth
at the very least.” “And do you sup¬
pose, madam, lam going to run the
risk of meeting an armed burglar for a
pitiful, beggarly $10, madam?” (An¬
grily) “Why not, John Billus! Isn’t
your life insured for $5000?'’— Chicago
Tribune.
A Shifting Ballet In s Man’s Head.
For over twenty-five years Fletcher
Wright, who lives near Dawson, has
carried a bullet in Ms head, a wound
received ia one of the battles in Vir¬
ginia* This minie-batl shifts about,
at one time in the front of his head, at
another time in the back. At times
this bullet gives Mr. Wright much un¬
easiness while at work in the field by
its shifting about and the rattling noise
it made in the head.— Macon (Go.)
Telegraph.
Vol. X. New Series. NO. 1 0
. Monkeys as Crab Catchers.
The way in which monkeys catch
land crabs is described by a sportsman
who made an expedition to the jungles
around Singapore, and there enjoyed
sport which makes the contemporaneous
records of Indian experiences pale into
insignificance. The monkey lies down
fiat on its stomach, feigning death.
From the countless passages pieicing
the mud iu every direction thousands
of little red and yellow crabs soon
make 4hcir appearance, and aftet
suspiciously eyeing for a few miuutes
the brown fur of the monkey, they
sjowly and cautiously slide up to him,
in great glee at the prospect of a big
feed off the bones of Jocko. The
latter peeps through his half-closed
eyelids, and fixes upon the biggest of
the assembled multitude. When
the crab comes within reach* out
dashes the monkey's arm, and
off ho stampers into the
jungle with a cry of delight to discuss
at leisure his cteVcrly earned dinner.
“Rarely did the monkeys seem to miss
their prey,” adds the describer of this
scene. “I saw, however, one old fel¬
low do so, and it was ludicrous iu the
extreme tc see tho rage it put him in.
Jumping for fully a minute up and
down on all fours at the mouth of
the hole into which the crab had es¬
caped, he positively howled with vexa
tiou. Then he set to work poking the
mud about with his fingen at tho en¬
trance to tho passage, fruitlessly trying
every now and again to peep into it.”
These same monkeys, the so-called pig¬
tailed variety, are taught by tho Malays
to pick fruit for them in the forests.
The monkeys select the ripest fruit, and
their masters, by following their move¬
ments, catch them in a cloth before
they reach the ground. The monkey
is too well trained to attempt to eat any
fruit while at work, but when sufficient
are gathered hs is difly rewarded for
his self-denial.— London Globe.
Bush-Farmers’ Honses.
fne bush-farmer ia the North Island
-af-N*** -Zealand bail da his own, house
of totara slabs, 'with tho rugged brown
Imrk left on, and a good roof of thatch,
made of the rushes w"hich abound on
the edge of the bush. Timber costs
nothing, so he need qot stint himself
for space. Ho generally begins with
four good-sized rooms, besides a loft
overhead and a cook's hut outside. Ho ■
makes his own furniture, too, unless he
has some household, goods which he
brings with him in a bullock dray.
Many of the farm-houses in tho bush
are extremely snug inside, with every
domestic convenience, and all sorts of
little comforts and refinements. In tho
rougher ones the furniture is limited to
plain tables and benches of sawn tim¬
ber with bunks against the wall to sleep
in; and the cooking utensils are only
two in number—a frying-pan and a
“billy,” or tin pot, for boiling or stow
ing.
But even such primitive habitations
as these are by no means to be despised.
They are warm and wholesome, and,
when kept clean, are really very com¬
fortable. Outside, the bush-farmer
usually plants some scarlet geraniums,
honeysuckles and climbing roses, which
soon spread all over the houso and con¬
vert its rough slabs and thatch into a
bower of beauty.
Food abounds on bush-farms, and
the universal rulo there is for men, wo
men and children to eat three square
meals a day. The bush is full of wild
cattle, wild pigs, wild goats and wild
birds, so that there is no butcher’s bill
to pay, and the larder is always sup¬
plied with plenty of the best at the
cost of a charge of powder and shot. —
Once a Weds.
An Instance of Nerre.
Biedler, the famous Montana scout
who recently died, was as intrepid as
he was fertile of resources in danger,
gays the St. Paul Pioneer-Press. One
time at Miles City he came out of the
door of a saloon to find himself within
20 inches of the muzzle of a 44- calibre
revolver ia the hands of a noted des¬
perado on whose trail the deputy mar¬
shal had otttimes camped.
“I’m goin’ to blow the innards out
of your skull, you vigilante hound,"
quoth the bad man.
“Not with that thing,” said “X”
(the scout’s pseudonym) in a conversa¬
tional, but semi-querulous tone. “It
ain’t cocked.”
The bad man threw up the pistol to
see if Biedler was right, and made tka
mistake of a life which ended right
there.
Unrecognized.
1 seed came floating near me,
A brown and paltry thing,
It seemed an idle pastime
To stay its hasty wing.
But lo! my neighbor grasped it,
And 'neath her watchful car%
It grew and gave her freely
A wreath of blossoms rare.
And then the plant beholding,
My tears fell freely down.
The seed was O, so paltry.
And light as thistle down.
B hy was there none to whisper,
“Tis opportunity l"
The bloom and fragrance yonder
Would then have been for me.
•Clara /. Denton, in fhtroit Free Prets.
HUMOROUS. I
When money talks of course it talks
cents.
It’s a very wise father who knows as
much as his son.
When will the authorities refuse
rhymsters a poetic license!
A cloud upon a real estate title does
not always have a silver lining.
Mon are like drums—tho 3 with
the big head makes the most noise.
A citizen of Franklin, H, is taxed
nine cents on real estate and $3.50 on
dogs. mg
A clergyman who expendoi $5 in
order to officiate at a wedding in Harris¬
burg,' Pa., received a Xea -of $3.
There is hardly anywffl so friendless
in this world that he hasn’t at least one
friend ready to tell him his faults.
It requires no tariff prophet to pre¬
dict that it will be exceedingly difficult
to do away with thy tacks 0 n carpets.
Clouds are a gSm deal like men—
they are harmless whe'a alone, but thoy
make trouble when they get together.
“Anything new under the sun
today!” ‘ Yes, that ] int you're sitting
on. I painted thayj p this morning;”
In five minutes Roman can clean up
a man’s room in s Oh a way that it will
take him fisMfw is to find out where
sho put|
know,” “Brea Ipis g»d the the farmer’s staff of wife life, to you the
] iii
Lknow I t ia.” answered the
tramp.fcldly; “am
lean on it.%
Six policemcllsaa St. Joseph, Mo.,
have been robbeifof their boots while
on duty. Sleep is i%bod thing, but it
is costly when it is had at the rate of
twenty-five center snore.
“If ifc hada m ii for me little
Harry Parker wou’ gotten a good
licking t<5-day, ma. He struck me, you
know.” “And what did you do, my
son?" “I didn’t hit back.”
“Don’t feel badly over what my wife
said to you to-night. You shouldn’t
mind what she says.” ‘ Well, I don’t
see why I shouldn’t mind what 4he
says. I notice you always do.”
A man who had committal a misde¬
meanor in Cincinnati attempted to es¬
cape arrest by climbing to the top of an
eloctrio wire polo, but the gallant po¬
liceman mounted after him and made
him prisoner.
Visitor—Tommy, I wish to ask you a
few questions ia grammar. Tommy
Yes, sir. Visitor—If I ,give you the
sentence, “The pupil loves his teacher/’
what is that! Tommy—Sarcasm.—
Texts Siftings. *
Yashly—Wickwire, we have just
been discussing the question whether
married women really do go through
the^fhusbands’ pockets. Does yours?
Wickwire—Of course, I can only give
you my own experience, and that is sh<
don’t. When she gets to the bottom
of them she stops. — Terre Haute Ex*
press.
“I’m afraid,” said Ethel, “that Har¬
old’s new situation at the Capitol is
having a bad effect on him." Do you
mean the young man who didn’t go
away till after 12 o’clock, last night!”
“Yos; he makes so many motions to
adjourn and then doesn’t.’’— Washing,
ton Post. ffgb
Knew What He was About
Monsieur wanted the picture hung to
the right; madarae wanted it on the
left. But monsieur insisted that the
servant should haug the picture accord¬
ing to hi. orders. Consequently Joseph
stuck a nail in the wait on the right,
but, this done, he also went and stuck
another in on the left. “What is that
second nail for?” his master ii *
astonishment. “It is to sav S
trouble of fetching
when monsieur will
the views of madam
