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NORTH GEORGIA TIMES.
C. N. Kfc*. i Proprietor
•S. B. OAR. R. t
Goodbye!
There’s a kind o’ chill jHeelin’ in the blewixt’
o’ tile brfieze,
And a sense o’ sadness stealin' through the
tresses o’ the trees;
And a mist seems'ftdlin’ dreary on the
mountains towerin’high,
And I feel my cheeks grow teary as I bid
you all goodbye!
"Goodbye,” the winds are sayin’; “good¬
bye,” the trees complain,
As they bend low down an’ whisper with
their green leaves wet with rain;
“Goodbye,” the roses murmur, an’ the
bendin’ lilies sigh
As if they all feit sorry I have come—come
to say goodbye.
I reckon all have said it some time or other
soft
And easy like, with eyes cast down, that
dared not look aloft
For the tears that trembled in them—far tho
lips that choked the sigh,
When it came a-swellin’ from the heart an’
made it beat goodbye!
I didn't think 'twas hard to say; but
standin’ here alone,
With the pleasant past behind me and the
future dim, unknown,
A gloomin’ yonder in the dark~the tears
come to my eye,
And I’m weepin’ like a woman as I bid you
all goodbye.
The work I’ve done is with you; maybe
some things went wrong,
Like a note that mars the music in the sweet
flow of a song;
But brethren—when you think of me, I only
ask you would
Bay as the Master said of one: “He hath
done what he could.”
And when you sit together in the time as
yet to be,
By your love-encircled firesides in the val¬
leys fair and free,
Let the sweet past come before you, and
with something like a sigh,
Just say: “We ain't forgot him since the
day he said ’Goodbye!’ ”
THE TIN BOX.
"It is a very mysterioin business,”
laid Lawyer fchmpkitis, rubbing his
aose, and adjusting his spectacles.
"Hiram Green sent for me, ten days
before he died, and gave me his bonds
and securities to draw the July interest
for him. I put them all back in the
tin box myself, and ho counted and
examined them. The day ho died he
tried to tell me something about Jerry
and that box. ‘Jerry—tin box—all in
the box—Jerry,’ was about all I could
make out.”
"And the tin box was stolen,” said
Tom, the lawyer’s son and partner.
"Well, it has disappeared. If it
was stolen, it is of precious little use to
the thief. Every paper in it could be
traced. Trust old Hiram Green to look
nut for that.”
“What was it worth?”
"To a lawful owner, about twenty
thousand dollars.”
"Then Jacob Green is so much
poorer! I am glad of it.”
“Tom! Tom! Jacob Green is our
client!”
"All right! Ishall not proclaim my
opinion on the house-top; but, between
ourselves, I think he is the meanest man
I ever met. Why, he must be a rich
maD, and he grudges his family the
necessaries of life. Look at Allie!
There is not a servant at Rye Hill who
has not a better wardrobe than Aiice
Green!
Just so!" said Lawyer Simpkins, with
a twinkle in his eyes. Her husband
tarn make that all right though. Eh
Tom?”
Then Tom, blushing crimson, began
to talk again about the tin box and old
Hiram Green’s will.
"Left everything to Jacob,” said the
lawyer; “the house, real estate, and
personal effect-".”
"And Jerry?”
"Was not even mentioned in the will.
Hiram Green never forgave Jerry for
failing in business, declared he had no
head, and wasn’t fit to be trusted with
money.
"He was his nephew, though, just
as much os Jacob, and he nursed him
faithfully at vho last.”
"But Jeiry is a dreamer. Jacob will
double every dollar the old man left,
While Jerry would probably apend a
legacy in a year or two.”
It was not alone in the lawyer’s office
that the subject of Hiram Green’s will
and the disappear*ce of the tin box
were topics of co. ersation. Every¬
body at Rye Hill had an opinion to ex¬
press, a theory to advance. Mrs. Jacob
Green and Mrs. Jerry Green were talk¬
ing the whole matter over on tho po rch
of the oid house where Hiram Green
had died, while Jerry sat on the steps,
looking moodily down the garden pat h.
"Jacob says,” said that worthy’s
wife; “that be will find that box, if it’s
•hove ground.”
SPRING PLACE. GA.. THURSDAY, MAY 15, 1890.
"I wonder what he’ll do if it ain’t,*
muttered Jerry, unheard by the others.
"He says,” continued Mrs. Jacob,
“that it will take a heap of money to
put this bouse in decent repair, and
settle the business! Dear! Dearl He
talks as if his uncle’s legacy left him
poorer, instead of richer.”
"1 wish it did!” muttered Jerry.
Aloud he said, "Maria, if you’ll get
me a hammer and some nails, I’ll save
Jacob twenty-five cents by fastening
these steps. See here!” and he rattled
the steps on which ho was sitting, and
which were wholly detached from the
porch.
"I wish you would," said his sister
in-law; ‘, I’m in a panic every time I
go in or out, especially if I have the
baby in my arms. I’ll get the ham¬
mer.”
"Dear me, Jerry,” whispered bis
wife, a little later, "you go at them,
steps as if you wore trying to hammer
the house down. Anybody would fan¬
cy you bad a spite against the nails,
you give them such vicious blows.”
"Hold your tongue,” growled hor
husband. "1 aui only making them
safe! 1 ’
He rose as ho spoke, and straighened
himself, muttering.
“That,s a good job done!”
"Come, Sally,” he said, presently,
"we’ll be getting home! I only came
over to seo if there was any news of
the tin box.”
"Not a sign to be found,’’ said Mrs.
Jacob, “ aud Ido believe Jacob will
be in a lunatic asy him it it don’t turn up
soon.”
Jerry tucked his wife’s hand undor
his arm, and walked down the road to
his own cottage, a small, shabby house
where> Snrahi Green vainly strove to
make oid things look now, and stretch
a dollar to the needs of two.
Since his uncle’s death Jerry had
been more moody and shiftless than
ever. Brooding over his injuries was
not the way to improve his fortunes,
and Sally had bard work to make her
needle supply the daily wants.
It was just three- days before his
uncle died that Jerry learned that Hiram
Green had left his entire property to
Jacob, already tho richest man at Rye
Hill. Then the bitterness of his disap¬
pointment seemed to literally turn his
brain, and Sally trembled for his rea
sou. With all his faults, if faults they
were, his disregard of money and want
of business capacity, Jerry Green was a
man to win strong affections. And it
was tho fact that even Iliram Green
kept up a sort of gru Iging affection for
him that made Jerry hope ho would not
entirely forget him iu his will.
When his last illness attacked the old
man, it was to Jerry he turned for the
affection Jacob's harder nature could
not make acceptable. It was Jerry and
Sally who nursed the invalid day and
night with faithful, unwearied care, and
it was with a bitter sense of wrong that
Jerry knew himself to bo disinherited.
Still the man’s gentle nature overruled
his anger, and the last three days of
Hiram Green’s life Were as tenderly
nursed as if Jerry kuew himself to be
his sole heir.
But afterward the whole nature of the
man seemed changed. Knowing the
sympathy of the people about him was
with him, he was never weary of telling
of his wrongs; aud he made no secret of
his delight at the disappearance of the
tin box, and the large slice of property
it contained.
A year passed away, and then all Rye
Hib knew that Jerry Green lay ill with
a fever, and the doctor had given him
up. Very sick indeed he was, and
Sally was heart-broken, when one day
ho whispered a request to see Lawyer
Simpkins alone, Seeing a lawyer
seemed to poor Sally a death-warrant,
though Jerry had no fortune to will
away.
Wondering, but ready to humor the
whim of a dying man, the lawyer an
swered the summons at once.
"Mr. Simpkins, will you promise to
keep secret what I tell you now?”
Jerry asked in a hoarse whisper,
"Certainly I will; lawyers have to do
that every day.
"Then I will tell you where Uncle
Hiram’s tin box is. You have the
key.”
"Yes; but—Jerry Greon, don’t tell
me you are the thief.”
"I did not take it away, but I was
half mad, I do.believe, and I wanted
to spite Jacob. So I buried it under
tho porch steps. 1 nover opened it.
Everything ia there, and I suppose
Jacob might ms well have it now.”
“i’ll keep your secret, Jerry, for ^
believe you when you say you were
half mad.”
Great was the excitemeut at Rvo inn !
when it became known that Lawyer
Simpkins had had a communication
from the party who had stolen the tin
box, confessing the theft, and revealing
the hiding place. There was a group
of half the people of the village in
front of Jacob Green's porch when Jer¬
ry’s carpenter’s work was torn away,
and tho earth that covorcd the babied
treasure removed. Lawyer Simpkins
took a small key from his pocket.
‘•Stop a moment,’’ he said, as Jacob
Green was about to take the box, "as
executor of Hiram Green’s estate, I
must opon this box and soe if tho con¬
tents are all right. ” •
There was a sudden catching of
breath audible as the ltd of the box fell
buck. On the top was an open paper,
and Lawyer Simpkins road alou J:—
“I, Hiram Green, do give and bequeath
this box and all it contains to Sarah, wife
of my nephew, Jeremiah Green. 1 leave it
to her as a token of my love for both,
and because I think she wilt bo more care¬
ful of it than my nephew. And I do ask
of my lawyer, Robert Simpkins that he do
see my wish carried out, an re to Sarah
his advice about investing the money.
f “HtBAM GbKEN.”
Thera,-was one moment of intense si.
leuoe then a cheer rent tho air.
Evwjrifi^.ihe'r e was glad that the
miserly' gracing Jacob Green was dis¬
appointed, and every man rejoiced f oi
Jerry and Sally.
But the sick man was humble as a
child when tho lawyer told him the
news. He did not die, nor did anyone
but Lawyer Simpkins ever guess his
secret, but he was a broken, premature¬
ly agod man, creeping humbly about
and living on the income his wife drew
from the contents of the tin box, which
he had hidden from spite, and by so
doiug, overreached himself.
‘•If I had died without telling,” he
thought often, "Sally would never
have had the money, and Jacob might
have found the box, after all.’’
Cats and the Moon.
Everybody knows tho superstitions
sailors, particularly, of course, in re¬
gard to their sailing on Friday; but
they are also superstitious on other
points, aud from this fact we get the
saying, "Rats desert a sinking ship.”
Again, they resent tho presence of a cat
on board, and usually that of a corpse,
although as regards both of these in¬
stances the superstition is not suffi¬
ciently widespread to altogether pre¬
vent the occurrence. Speaking of cats,
it is well-known that they were held in
such high respect by the ancient Egyp¬
tians that their mummies tire met with
about as frequently as human boings,
and this was from a superstitious
belief in their intervention in
the affairs of men. A special
goddess among the Egyptian! was rep
resented with tho head of a cat, and a
temple was erected to hor at a town of
the name she bore—Bubastis. In the
Egyptian mythology Bubastis was the
child Isis and Osiris and the sister of
Horns. What is not so generally
known is the fact that the cat among
the Egyptians symbolized the moon.
As to the moon there was in ancient
times many superstitions. Our word
"lunacy” is derived from the latin
name of that planet, and the disorder
is still believed by many to be caused
by it at its full. Sailors m the tropics
have been known to become temporari¬
ly deranged because of slee ping with
their faces exposed to the rays of the
full moon, while fresh fish hung up on
deck under the same conditions are said
to spoil in a short time. —Star - Saying *.
Costly Canine Collars.
"Some dogs iu this town wear collars
that cost $200,” said a dealer in
those articles to me yesterday, "Oi
course, such valuables are worn only
by the pamperel pets of tho rich; the
average owner of dogs thinks he or she
has done well in investing $3 dollars in
a collar, and by a good many a plain
leather strap, with name plate, is
deemed ample for safety and identity.
Of Course, a dog with a $100 or a $200
collar has got to be watched pretty care
fully, and they usually ride in the car
raige of the master or mistress. The
existence of a good many Flf ih avenue
and Madison avenue dogs might well
be envied by tho poor of our city,
They have all the advantages of wealth
in the way of luxury and easy living,
without any of the attendant anxieties,
from which even Goulds and Vander
hilts aro not free .—Ma Tori Star.
HTTP WOOD! VV UULfL,mN 4 NOS L/U.
The Country’s Forests and Their
Preservation.
Trees Which Are Felled Should
Be Replaced.
It is estimated, by those whose spe¬
cial study of the subject seems to have
fitted them to judge, that the number
of acres of land in the United Slates
now covered with wood growth is about
&ur hundred and fifty millions. Of
this area, about seventy million acres
belong to tho United States Govern¬
ment. The rest is the property of in¬
dividuals, except a small amount which
belongs to States of the Union.
Of the entire forest area, it was as¬
certained that more than ten million
acres were burned over in tho census
year 1880. It is not probable that the
annual destruction by fire has fallen oil
since that year. It is estimated that
twenty-five million acres of woodland
are cut off each year. At this rate of
destruction, the woodlands of the
United States must speedily disappear
If it were not tho fact that while the
woods in many places are being wan¬
tonly burned or cut away, they are also
growing, not only in a great many sites
whore they have just undergone des¬
truction, but in many places which
have been clear of timber.
But although woods grow spon¬
taneously in many parts of the country
and so freely that there is little fear
that there will be a net loss of timber
east of the one-hundredth meridian, or
a general unfavorable effect upon soil or
climate in that region, the new growth,
in the forests of the country, does not
by any means keep pace with the de¬
struction.
It is estimated that while twenty-four
thousand millions of cubic feet of wood
are consumed annually in the United
States, the wood that grows each year
on the present forest area of tho coun¬
try is not more thau twelve thousand
millions of cubic feet. It is reasonably
certain that, whether tree growths as a
■whole increaso or diminish, the great
forests of the country must disanpear
unless something is done to cheek their
destruction.
What the effect upon the far Western
or more arid section of the country
would be if the mountain forests were
entirely swept away—as they must be
under present conditions, siuce in that
region tho woods do not ordinarily
spring up again when cut down—can
be anticipated by observing the effect
upon the water flow in Now York State
of the partial destruction of tho Adiron¬
dack forests.
It is officially reported that the cut¬
ting away of woods in tho Adirondack
region has diminished the reliable
water supply in the Mohawk and Hud¬
son Rivers by from 30 to 50 per cent.
Tho loss begins to affect unfavorably
navigation in the New York canals aud
rivers.
In the Iticky Mountain and Pacific
coast regions, the drying up of tho
sources of water supply by the cutting
away of tho mountain forests seriously
endangers the supply of water for the
irrigation of the plains bolow, and
thus menaces the habitability of those
regions.
Further east the question is equally a
practical one, though not as threatening.
The practice is to destroy without re¬
placing. We commonly trust to the
unaided operations of nature to put
back the wood growths wo take; but
nature does not always put them back.
The experience of the old world has
proved that a steady and profitable
supply of wood may be drawn from
forests, and a revenue from them de¬
rived by those who own them and the
forosts maintained in good growth at
the same time, to supply still further
revenue and to exorcise their equalizing
and preserving influence on climate,
rainfall and water supply.
This lesson of profit and loss should
not be a hard one for the practical
American people to learn, and there
are many indications, both in the direc
j t j * ects on °* * or private legislation, enterprise that and they in pro
are
learning it.
j President Harrison, in January, sent
*° Con S ress a *P ecial me98a g° callin g
attention to the necessity of preserving
the forests on tho P ublic domain, and
yr g in g earl y legation to prevent the
destruction of forest areas. The legis
lation is raost actively urged
provides for the withdrawal ot public
Vol. X. New Series. NO. 15.
forest lauds from sale or pre-emption,
and the protection of the feresta frcui
destruction by fires and by the depreda¬
tions of those who take the public
timber without paving for it. — Youth't
Companion.
Women’s Fami’.y Names.
There is a lawyer who does a good
deal of real estate conveyancing, one of
the chief of whose grievances in life is
the scant respect that women show to¬
ward their names. The fact that a
certain alteration takes place in the
name at marriage destroys, so he claims,
whatever regard a woman might be ex¬
pected to pay to an exact rendering,
and the fact that any legal significance
can in any case attach to the form seems
to be quite beyond the grasp of tho
average feminine brain. If a girl baby
is christened Elizabeth she will sign
herself when called on to put her name
to a dcod after she is
grown, Lizzie, Lisa, Elise, Lisbet
or Lisbeth, according to which
diminutive happens to bo her favorite
for the year, and will omit her middle
name, give it in full or by initial, or
sign instead of hor own her husband’s
name, according to her sweet liking.
The task of the lawyer who has to trace
up half a dozen ot' these signatures to
make sure that they all refer to tho
same person is not calculated to make
easy tho task of his wife who has to
soothe his ruffled temper with a good
dinner. That the married women
should in all cases retain her own famly
Mine, preceeding it by hor given name
and following it with her husband’s
family name is the lawyer’s plea if he
is to be saved from insanity. Frances
Folsom Cleveland, Juiia Dent Grant,
Louise Chandler Moulton, Julia Ward
Howe, Ella Wheeler Wilcox and other
set in this respect a good example.
Two Fish United by Hooks.
Nearly a year ago Fisherman W. T.
Van Dyke, while pursuing liis occupa¬
tion off shore, invitingly threw out a
fishing lino with two well-baited hooks.
Presently there was a jerk—the bait
had “took.” Van Dyke was hauling
in hand over hand, when suddenly tho
tension ceased, and tho line was grace¬
fully and adroitly whisked into the
boats minus both hooks.
Last fall Mr. Van Dyke in emptying
one of his "pounds” of its over-night
catch, discovered among his catch a
pig fish and a sea bass united by a lull¬
ing cord, which ho readily identified as
his own. A hook had penetrated the
jaw of each fish, and, becoming im¬
bedded there, the flesh had grown
around their barbs and securely fas¬
tened them in position. Thus held to¬
gether for nearly a twelvemonth, they
had coursed the briny in doublo team,
held by a singlo twiuc, until death cut
their thread of life in twain.
The skeletons of this curious pair of
accidental Siameso twins, together with
the hooks and line which constituted
their sole domestic tie, now adorn tho
walls of the fish house of Mr. Van
Dyke .—Long Branch Hewn.
How to Fall Asleep.
Nearly everyone has experienced the
misery of lying awake in bod desiring
to sleep, but unable to do so, and
wished for a means to successfully woo
Morpheus. Reciting poetry or prayer,
or counting ticks of clocks or other de¬
vices may have been tried in vain, and
when they have been the situation is
only aggravated by the dread of insom¬
nia and consequent insanity. A physi¬
cian said on this subject the other even¬
ing: "Sleep can be induced without
drugs. Persons who find difficulty in
going to sleep might try the experi¬
ment of placing a small bright object,
seen by reflection of a soft and distant
light in such position that the eyes are
strained upward aud back at such a dis¬
tance as to make the eyes squint. That
will induce sleep. Why? Why, simply
because the person will magnetize him¬
self. A bright dime suspended from a
cord at the head of the bed would do
for tho bright object. This is not it
new discovery. I’ve seen it in books,
and if a person can’t, so to speak, mag¬
netize himself into sleep thla way, he’
in danger of Bodlnm.”— Star-Saying*.
A Discourager.
Mrs. Figg—Isn’t there any way to
get rid of that young Jinx who kesps
calling on Clara without positively in¬
sulting him?
Mr. Figg—Why, certainly. Just giva
him the baby to hold the next time he
comes .—Terre Saute Eecpres*.
——4
The Voice of the Void.
1 warn, like the one drop of rain
On your face, ere the storm;
Or tremble in whispered refrain
With your blood, beating warm.
I am the presence that ever
Baffles your touch’s endeavor,—
Gone like the glimmer of dust
dispersed by a gust.
I ant the absence that taunts you.
The fancy that haunts you;
The ever unsatisfied guess
That, questioning emptiness,
Wins a sigh for reply.
Nay; nothing am I,
But the flight of a breath—
Nor I am Death!
—Geo rye Luthrop in the Century.
HUMOROUS.
Flower girls—The miller's daughters.
Hailstones iutended for publication
are usually as big ns hens’ oggs.
When a man knows that ho cannot
get out of tho mud his next impulse is
to go in deeper.
That silence is golden is proved by
the fact that it is sometimes a very cost¬
ly article to buy.
It was a waggish physician who ad¬
vised a man afflicted with kleptomania
to take something for it.
Landlady—Will you pass the butter,
Mr. Johuson? Mr. Johnson-—That
butter will not pass, madam?
The quantity of paper that jewelers
wrap around their goods strikes most
people as a great wasto of tissue.
A sailor is considered a good skipper
when ho understands tho ropes. Tho
same may be said of a little girl.
An American girl in France who
wanted to save cablo tolls, telegraphed
to her father: "Marseilles Tuesday.”
Writing poetry is recommended as a
mental exercise. You can got physical
exercise by attempting to read it to tho
editor.
Little drops of water,
Little grains of sand,
Make the grocer’s business
The finest in the land.
Foreman—What’s all that racket over
thcro; somebody pied a form? Printer
— No, sir. The towel fell on the floor,
that’s all.
Photographers aro tho most charita*.
bio of men, for they aro always anxious
to take tho best view of their fellow
creatures.
Button manufactories cannot bo very
profitable for the button business is s
tiling that sooner or later is bound to
get into a hole.
Miss Gabble—I have had that parrot
for three months now and it has nevei
spoken a word. Caller—Perhaps you
have never given it a chance.
Mrs. Hardhead—That’s our milk¬
man’s wife. Mr. Hardhead—She’s very
becomingly attired. Mrs. Hardhead
How so? Mr. Hardhead—She wears a
watered silk.
Young Wife—Oh, John, the rata
have eaten all my angel cake! Hus.
band—What! AUofit? Y/ mg Wife
—Every piece. 1 feel lijjp crying.
Husband—Oh, pshaw 1 Don’t cry over
a few rats.
"No,” remarked Sonosby, enthusi¬
astically, "there’s nothing like the hot
water cure! It will brace a man up
when all other remedies fail—er—Mrs.
Slimdiet, just let me have a cup of tea,
is you please!”
Student (writing to his father): 1
bog you, my dear father, not for a
minute to think that I need this money
to pay debts with. I give you my
word of honor that I want It only for
myself, and that there is no question of
debts.
Teacher (promenading with his pupil
in the field)—"Nature’s works are
marvelous," exclaimed the pupil,
"Yes, indeed, ” the teacher replies;
"when you come to think, for an ex
ample, that the humblest insect has its
Latin name.”
Homely Women of Portugal.
The Portuguese men are rather bo¬
low the medium height, of olive corn
plexton and have brilliant black eyes.
For the most part they are very hand¬
some. The women, on the contrary,
are excessively homely, but dress in
very good taste. Both gentlemen and
ladies copy the Parisian fashions. Tho
prettiest women aro the fisher maids,
who go about the streets barefooted
with their baskets of fish on their heads,
after the fashion of the Egyptian women
with their pitchers of water. Some of
these girls are remarkably pretty, and,
strange to say, their feet are small and
delicate looking and their forms grace
fail.