North Georgia times. (Spring Place, Ga.) 1879-1891, April 10, 1890, Image 1
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