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NORTH GEORGIA TIMES
^ £ ^StTER. } Proi^iwtor
HI Not Confer With Sorrow*
1 I’U not confer with sorrow
4
Till tomorrow ;
But joy shall have her way
This very day.
No, eglantine and cresses
For her treBses!—
Let care, the beggar, wait
, Outside the gate.
Tears If you will—but after
Mirth and laughter;
Then, folded hands ou breast
Aud endless rest.
►-[Thomas 1$. Aldrich, in Independent.
THE OLD SILVER WATCH
Charles Eamcs stepped into the office
of his friend Bowles, editor of the
Glenville Courant.
“How are you, Eamcs?” asked the
editor.
“I ought to feel happy, I suppose,”
Baid the young man, a little ruefully,
“for I’ve just received notice of a
legacy.”
“Indeed, I congratulate you.”
“Wait till you hear what it is.” ^
“Well, what is it?”
“My aunt Martha has just died, leav¬
ing fifty thousand dollars.”
“To you? I congratulate you
heartily.”
“No; she leaves it to a public in¬
stitution. She leaves me only her
silver watch, which slio has carried
for forty years.”
“How is that?”
“She didn’t approve of my becom¬
ing an artist. She wished mo to bo a
merchant. If I had consulted her
wishes, I should, doubtless, have been
her sole heir. This small legacy is
meant more as an aggravation than
anything else.”
“But you can make your own way.”
“I can earn a scanty living at pres¬
ent. I hope to do better by and by.
But you know my admiration for Mary
Brooks—If I had been Aunt Martha’*
sole heir, I could have gained her
father’s consent to our marriage.
Now it is hopeless.”
“I am not so sure of that, This
legacy may help, you.”
“An old watch? Y’ou arc joking.”
“Not if you will strictly observe my
directions.”
“What are they?”
“Simply this: Agree for one calen¬
der mouth not to mention or convey
the least idea of tho naturo of your
aunt’s legacy. I will manage the rest.”
“I don’t at all know what you
mean, Bowles,” said the young artist;
“but I am in your bauds.”
“That is all I wish. Now remember
to express surprise at nothing; but lot
matters take their course.”
“Very well.”
In the next issue of the Glenville
Courant, this young artist was sur¬
prised to read the following para¬
graph:—
“We aro gratified to record a piece
of good luck which has just befallen
our esteemed fellow-citizen, tho prom¬
ising young artist, Charles Eames. By
the will of an aunt recently deceased,
he comes into possession of a piece of
property which has been in the family
for many years. Miss Eames is re¬
ported to have left fifty thousand dol¬
lars.”
“Really,” thought the young man,
“anybody would naturally suppose
from this paragraph that I had inheri¬
ted my aunt’s entire property.”
He put on his hat and walked down
the street. lie met Ezekiel Brooks,
president of tho Glenville National
Bank.
Mr. Brooks beamed with cordiality.
“My dear sir, permit mo to con¬
gratulate you,” he said.
“You have read the Courant?” said
Eamcs.
“Yes; and I am delighted to hear of
your good fortune. Can I speak to
you on business a moment?”
“Certainly, Mr. Brooks.”
“You’ll excuse my advice, but I
know you are not a business man,
while I am. My young man, do you
want to make some money?”
“Certainly, I should be glad to do
«o.”
“James Parker has five hundred
ihares of tilts Wimbledon Railway. It
stands at fifty-six, a figure much be¬
low its real value. But Parker is
nervous, and wants to sell out. I
want you to buy out his entire stock.”
“But Mr. Brooks—”
“I know what you would say. It
may go down—but it won’t. I have
advices that a speedy rise is almost
certain. Buy him out, and you’ll
make a handsome thing of it.
, “But how shall I find the money?”
SPRING PLACE. GA.. THURSDAY. JULY 17, 1890.
“Of conrse you haven't received
your legacy yet. I know thcro arc de¬
lays. No trouble about that. Give
your note on ninety days, and I'll in¬
dorse it. You’ll sell out before that
time at a handsome advance.”
“I will place myself in your hands
Mr. Brooks, but you must manage tho
business.”
“Certainly; I shall only want your
signature when tho documents are
made out. By tho by, come round
and dine with us, or have you another
engagement?”
Another engagement? If Eamcs
had had fifty engagements ho would
have broken them all for the privilege
of meeting Mary Brooks. This was
the first limo lie had been invited to
the capitalist’s table- The fact is,
until this morning Mr. Brooks had
scarcely vouchsafed him more than a
cool nod on meeting; but had changed,
or appeared to, and his behavior al¬
tered with it. Such is tho way of tho
world!
It was a very pleasant dinner. The
young artist remained afterwards.
“I have an engagement, Mr. Kamos,”
said Mr. Brooks, “a meeting of the
Bank Directors, but you mustn’t go
away, Mary will entertain you.”
The young man did not go away,
and apparently was satisfied by .the en¬
tertainment he received, lie blessed
his aunt for her legacy, if only it had
procured him this afternoon’s inter¬
view with the young lady he had ad¬
mired. But it gained him more.
Every four days he received a similar
invitation. lie could not fail to see
that Ezekiel Brooks looked with evi¬
dent complacency on tho good under¬
standing between his daughter and
himself.
“What will he say?” thought the
young man, “when he finds out what
sort of a legacy I have received from
my aunt?”
Occasionally, too, he felt nervous
about bis hasty assent to the proposi¬
tion to buy 400 shares of railroad stock
at 5.6, wlieu lie hadn't $50 ahead. Ho
reckoned up, one day, what his pur¬
chase would amount to, and his breath
was nearly taken away when he found
it amounted to twenty-eight thousand
dollars I Still, it had been in a man¬
ner forced upon him. lie asked no
questions, but every now and then tho
old gentleman said, “All going well!
Stock advancing rapidly.”
With that he was content. Indeed,
lie was so carried away by love of
Mary Brooks that lie gave little thought
to any oilier subject.
One day Mr. Brooks came up, his
face beaming with joy.
“Wish you joy, Eames,” lie said,
“Wimbledon’s gone up like a rocket
to par. Give mo authority, and I’ll
sell out for you.”
The artist did so, hardly realizing
what it meant till three days after, he
received a little note to this ell'ect:
Deak Eames Have sold out Your five
hundred shares of IVimb cdon at 101. So
you bought at 55. This gives you a clear
profit of forty-five dollars per share, or
twenty-two thousand five hundred dollars.
You had better reinvest your surplus. Call
at my office at once. Yours very truly,
Ezekiel Bkooks.
Charles Eames read this letter three
times before ho could realize its mean¬
ing. Could it be that without invest¬
ing a cent, he had made over twenty
thousand dollars? It must be a dream,
be thought.
But when he called at the old
gentleman’s oilice, he found it was
really true.
“Mr. Eames, how about this money?
Shall I re-invest it for you?”
“Thank you, sir. I wish you
would. I should like a little in hand,
however.”
“Certainly. What will answer?”
and the old gentleman wrote a cheque
for five hundred dollars, and placed it
in the young man’s hand.
It was more money than ho had
ever before possessed at one time.
This was convincing proof of the
reality of his good fortune.
The next day he went to the city and
ordered a handsome suit of clothes at
a fashionable tailor’s. The fact was
his old coat was getting threadbare,
and his overcoat decidedly seedy.
While he was about it he bought a new
coat and boots, as well as other needed
articles, and still returned with money
enough in his pocket to make him feel
rich. He changed his boarding-house,
engaging a handsome room at a much
nicer boarding-house.
“It seems to me you are dashing out*
Eames,” said his friend the editor.
You know l vc iuui a legacy, sanl
Eamcs, laughing.
“I begin to think you have,” said
the editor.
IVhen Karnes appeared on the street
in his new suit it was a confirmation
of the news of his inheritance, Ilis
removal to a fashionable board!: g
housc was additional confirmation. It
was wonderful how lie rose in the es¬
timation of peoplo who laid before
looked upon him as a shiftless artist.
All at once it occurred to him.
“Why shouldn't I propose for Mary
B.ooks? With twenty thousand dol¬
lars 1 could certainly support her com¬
fortably. 'i here was a very pretty
cottage, and tasteful grounds, for sale
at live thousand dollars. This would
make a charming home.”
One morning with considerable
trepidation, young Kamos broached
the subject to Mr. Brooks.
“No one 1 should like better for a
son-in-law, if Mary is willing,” was
tho prompt answer.
Mary was willing, and as thcro
seemed no good reason for waiting,
the marriago took place within a few
weeks.
“Charles,” said his father-in-law,
after the young people returned from
their wedding journey, “it is timo for
me to render you an account of your
money affairs. I have been lucky in
my investments, and I have thirty-one
thousand dollars to your credit, or de¬
ducting the amount paid for your
house, twenty-six thousand dollars.
By the way, have you received your
aunt’s bequest?”
“I received it yesterday,” said
Charles.
“Indeed!”
“Here it is,” said tho young man,
and lie produced a battered silver
watch.
“Do yon mean to say this is all she
left you?" asked his father-in-law,
stupefied.
“Yes, sir.”
Ezekiel Brooks whistled in sheer
amazement, and his countenance fell.
For a moment he regretted lii9 daugh¬
ter’s marriage, but thou came the
thought that his son-in-law, through a
lucky mistake, was really tho posses
sor of quite a comfortable p roperty
which under his management might
bo increased, bo he submitted with a
good grace, and is on the best of terms
with his daughter’s husband, who is
now in Italy with his wife, pursuing
a course of artistic study, lie treas¬
ures carefully the old watch, which he
regards as the foundation of his pros¬
perity.—[Yankee Blade.
Valnable Hints to Fishermen.
Clarence Denning, in a recent article,
gives somo valuable hints to fishermen
as regards the weather quostion. He
says that when fishing for trout in
swift or rippling waters tho 'weather
makes little difference unless it rains.
Nor does cloudy weutlier aid one to
take fish in water over fifteen feet
deep of a lake or pond, unless that
water is very clear; indeed, a still
bright day, which is apt to drive the
fish to the cool, shadowy depths, is
often best for this deeper fishing. A
rough, windy day is, generally speak¬
ing, almost as timely as a cloudy one
for lake fishing, or for the usually
smooth reaches of a stream. For pick¬
erel the wind-beaten water is the best
of all whether the day is bright or not.
If you happen to know where a large,
timid, and sly trout lies in still water,
your time of all others for taking him
is during a hard rain which beats the
water and prevents the finny aristo¬
crat from either seeing you or feeling
the jar of your approach.
Alligators to be Protected.
Fashion’s mandate that purses, reti¬
cules, traveling bags aud footwear
must be mado of alligator hide has
made alligator hunting an industry in
Louisiana and Florida, and the mon¬
sters aro rapidly being exterminated.
So marked has been this destruction
that the Police Jury of Plaquemines
Parish, La., have been compelled to
prohibit tbo further killing. It seems
that alligators feed largely on musk¬
rats, and since the lessening of the
number of the former the rats have
increased enormously, and have se¬
riously damaged crops. Tho jury pro¬
hibits the killing of alligators in the
bayous, marshes, canals or on any
portion of the land or body of water
under the penalty of $25 fine and im¬
prisonment of not more than one
Times. month for each offense.—[New York
A TEN-ACRE FARM.
LARGE PROFITS FROM A MODEST
LITTLE PATCH OF LAND.
Judicious Management Made It Pay
$1000 a Year.
I have found farming a profitable
business, writes David Sherwood in
the American Agriculturist. A single
instance of it is a ten-acre field which
1 bought m the spring of 1881, near
Long Island Sound, between New
Haven and New I oi k. It had no;
been plowed in thirty years, and was
badly grown up to brush and limber,
It cost me $1000, and I spout $279 on
it the first year in improvements. This,
added to the first cost and interest on
$i000 at 0 per cent., amounted to
Slo. > 9. II ood was sold to the extent
of $9, reducing the total cost to $13.10.
In 1882, I planted four acres to
corn, and the same area to potatoes,
1 he phosphate for corn in the hill cost
$15, and a vessel-load of New York
manure for the potatoes cast $178.
lhe labor expended on the lot and
crops for the year amounted to $360,
which with the interest,$79 more, made
a total outlay of $6.3.1. 'i he receipts for
the same year were $588. They came
from 700 bushels, of potatoes at
seventy-live cents; twenty-one bushels
at thirty cents; ninety-live bushels of
corn at thirty-five cents, ami $24 worth
of stalks. This ran mo in debt $45,
ivhioh had to bo added to the debt of
tho previous year, making $1,375 as
the cost of the Hold on April 1, 1883.
That year I raised four acres of car¬
rots aud four of potatoes. For tin:
carrots, seventy -0110 tons, I received
$11 per ton, or $781; for 1,007 bush¬
els of potatoes, at fifty-four cents,
Vanure l$570; total, $1,351. The expense of
was $969, interest on $1,375
$82; total, $1,061, or net earnings for
the year were $290; so that in the
^spring of 1884 I was out but $1,084.
That year I had four acres in onions,
four in carrots and two in potatoes.
For 690 barrels of onions I got $1,982;
for forty-two tons of carrots, $407;
for 140 bushels of potatoes, $56; total,
$2,445. The expenses (including in¬
terest on $1,084) being$l,17l, the net
income for the year was $1,274. This
was enough to pay the $1,084 the land
stood me at tho beginning of the sea¬
son, and left me $190 in cash beside.
The next year (1885) 1 raised eight
acres of onions and two of oats. The
onions brought $2.69 per barrel, or
$2,729; 90 bushels of oats, $40; two
and one-lmlf tons of straw, $20.
With interest on the previous year’s
profit of $189, tho total receipts for
the year wore $2,801. Tho expenses
were $360 for manure; $10 for the
use of a dock; $48 for carting
manure; $10 for spreading it; $40
for plowing; $40 for harrowing; and
$32 for 32 pounds of onion seed.
The sowing and cultivation, at $31
per acre, came to $218; pulling and
care, at $5 per acre, $40; carting in
and to market, at 16 cents per barrel,
and store-room, $202; five bushels of
seed oats, $2; harvesting and thresh¬
ing oats, $16.
The total expenses were, therefore,
$1,179, showing a pet profit of $1,622
for the season. Add the previous
year’s profits, and tho net earnings of
the lot above its first cost were $4,811 «
jn the spring of 188G. Then I put
eight acres to onions and two to rye.
For 1,344 barrels of onion* I received
$2,782; 70 bushels of rye, $42; straw,
$49; clover, $20; total receipts, $2,893.
The expenses wore $1,059, which
made the net inooino for the year
$1,833. Add interest on the $1,811
on hand at the beginning of the season,
together with that principal, making
$3,754 capital on April 1, 188?.
This year the teg-acre field was used
for onions gild hay, two acres being
mowed. The onions, 789 barrels,
brought $2,865; two outtings of hay,
at $12 per ton, $60; interest qu the
net capital previously earned, $225
Tho total receipts tlds season were,
therefore, $2680. This year I used
six tons of bone-dust instead of stable
manure, which reduced the expenses
$220, and left the total year’s expense
$839. Thus, tho net inoouio for the
year was $1791. In 1888 I again
raised eight acres of onions and two of
grass.
The receipts for 1477 barrels of
onions, at eighty-iivo cents, wer e
$1255; three tons of hay, $36; inter¬
VoL X. New Series. NO. 21.
est on previous profits, $332; total re¬
ceipts, $1623. The expenses were
$1059, making the net income $564.
Thus, tiie amount of money earned
and on hand on April 1, 1888, was
$6109. Tliis represents tho net in¬
come from tho field for seven years>
besides paying for tho land. Add to
this the first cost of tho field, $1000,
and the total net income $7109. I
have sinco sold tho ton acres for
$3500.
Explosives as Medicine.
There is, for example, gun-cotton,
ol . ; as we cll i\ pyroxylin. It is twice
ag powerful as gunpowder, but very
much inferior to dynamite or nitro
glycerine. Dissolved in ether it makes
that wonderful compound we call col¬
i 0 dion. In this shape it is employed to
protect raw or injured surfaces. It
,| r ies rapidly, in fact, almost as fast as
it is employed, and leaves behind a
|j, 1Ci elastic artificial skin, which is air
!lIK | water proof against microbes and
disease germs. Mixed with canthar
ides, collodion makes the best blister
ing plaster known to science, Mixed
with tannin or tannic acid it makes a
wonderful remedy for stopping tho
fi ow of blood from wounds. In cases
of scalding or burning collodion en
aides the profession to cover the ex
posed llesh in a manner never before
possible. No secretion of the human
tody affects it, nor, on tho other hand,
does itAsxert any uupleasant or objec
tionnble itillucnccupon the system,
But of even greater value is nitro
glycerine. When used in medicine it
is largely diluted, one part being mixed
with 100 parts of alcohol, and one
drop of the resultant mixture is a dose.
In this form it is ail admirable anti¬
dote in oases of nouralgia of the heart
and many cases of nervous dis¬
turbances of tlio human body. Thus
it has been used and given wonderful
relief in nervous asthma, hiccoughs,
headaches and similar disorders. It
has repeatedly cut short an attack of
chills and fever, and so eminent an
authority as Dr. Roberts Bartholow
recommends it in certain forms of
Bright’s disease, and also for that most
miserable of earthly ailments, sea¬
sickness.—[New York Star.
Pearls Are Liable to Decay.
One peculiarity about pearls is that,
unlike other precious gems, they are
liable to decay. Occasionally' a valu¬
able pearl changes color, seems to be
attacked with a deadly disease, and
crumbles into dust. Such is reputed
to have been tho fate of the most
magnificicnt specimen ever known. It
was found by an ignorant fisherman,
who disposed of it for an insignificant
sum, Bussing through successive
hands, it finally became tho property
of a Russian merchant and found a
possessor who knew its immense value
and prized it accordingly, lie kept
it carefully in a secluded room of his
magnificent munsion, apart from all
other of his treasures.
It was the wonder and .admiration
of favored friends who were permit¬
ted to look at it. The morohant finally
became involved in a political conspir¬
acy gnd fled to Paris, taking his one
great treasure with him. lie kept it
hidden for a time, but at last consent
cd to show it to some distinguished
lovers of precious stones. But when
ho opened the oasket he foil back in
dismay and staggered as though strick¬
en with death. Tho gem had begun
to change color. A fatal discaso had
attacked it. It soon was a worthless
heap of white powder, and the once
wealthy merchant was a pauper. The
death of a pearl is caused by decompo¬
sition of tho animal membrane which
enters into its suhstanoo.— [Chicago
Times,
Enormous Flower Trade of Paris.
It is, in fact, astonishing what pro¬
portions the trade in flowers and plants
assumes in Paris. It is reckoned that
the daily sale of natural flowers alone
realizes about $25,000. The rents oi
tho stalls in tho various flower markets
amount to $20,000 a year, so that it
may be imagined that no small num¬
ber of geraniums, pansies and pots of
mignonette must be sold before any
profit is made. The Marche-aux-Fleurs
of the Cite comes first on the list, with
$8,000 of rent; that of the Madeleine,
$3,200; that of Saint Sulpice, $540,
and those of the Place Clichy and the
Chateau d’Eau, $100. The annual
commerce in room plants is calculated
at more than $200,000.—[Washington
Star.
The Man Who Heard It Before.
You tell him a joke you relict! on as new,
He smiles in a wearisome way.
From a comedy new you recite him a bit,
lie says he saw that at the play.
You give him a story that never yet failed
To set all who heard in a roar;
He nods half approval and turns him away,
And murmurs, “I’ve heard it before.”
The girl wliotn you woo in your teuderest
tone,
IVhose heart you are seeking to gain.
Listens coldly to all you may have to pro.
test.
Seeming only to wish you’d refrain.
You seek for some phrase not totally trite,
And e’en the thesaurus explore,
Its all of no use, and you bid her good-by—
You see she has heard it before.
How sad it must be to go onward like this,
With nothing on earth to enjoy,
And never make anyone happy yourself
And only find tilings to annoy.
His life like an orange whoso juices aro gone,
’Tis a dry, empty shell, and no more.
Alas! lie is much to be pitied, not blamed—
The man who lias heard it before.
—[Washington Post.
HUMOROUS.
An American biz-mark—$.
A walking match—The firing skele
ton.
Deer aro not the bravest of animals,
yet they always die game.
Spices are not as a rule noisy, but
you have all heard the gingersnap.
Money talks, sure enough, and peo¬
ple are generally willing to listen to it,
too.
Many a man who is a good shot in
this world hopes to miss fire in the
next.
Gladstone, though not monarch of
the forest, is a fell destroyer among
trees.
The mosquito will soon show tho
American people whether hides aro
free or not.
The poet’s expression, “Had I the
wings of a dove,” was no doubt merely
a flight of fancy. -I
Often the man who does not know:
his owu mind has escaped a very di»«
reputable acquaintance. >j
A teakettle can sing when it is
merely filled with water. But man,
proud man, is no teakettle.
AT PEACE. 1
The lamb's inside Uie lion,
Fierce wars ami wrangling cense,
The eat sleeps on die bootjack,
Aud all the world is peace.
Customer—Is it customary to fee the
waiter here? Waiter—Y'es, sir. Cus¬
tomer—Then hand over your fee. I’ve
waited for you nearly au hour.
“Is that cement any good?” asked a
prospective purchaser of a peddler.
“Any good?” was the reply. “Why,
you could mend the break of day with
that cement.”
“Purple sunrise,” Algv, is probably
a phrase invented by somo poet who
mingled tho memories of (he evening
he painted red with the dawn of his
blue awakening.
It would bo an awful strain on a
man to be polite through all the worri
inents of business if he were not con¬
soled by tho prospect of getting even
after going homo.
An old baldhead, who is likewise an
old bachelor as well as an old scound¬
rel, speaks of women as resembling
gratifying news. They are good;
somo of them too good to bo true.
Mr. Phunnymau (looking up from
his paper)—“Another cashier gone
with the deposits.” Mrs. Phuunyman
—“What was the sum?” Mr. P—
“He wasn’t satisfied with some—ho
took everything.”
Woods that Sink in Water.
Tliero are 413 species of trees found
within the limits of the United States
and territories, sixteen of which, when
perfectly seasoned, will sink in water.
The heaviest of these is the black iron
wood found only in southern Florida,
which is more than 30 percent, heavier
than water. Of the other fifteen, the
best known is the lignum vital, and the
mangrove. Texas and New Mexico,
lands full of queer creeping, crawling,
walking and inanimate things, are tho
homes of a species of oak which is
about one and one-fourtli times heavier
than water, and which, when green,
will sink almost as quick as a bar of
iron. It grows only in mountain re¬
gions, and has been found westward
as far as tho Colorado desert, where it
grows at an elevation of 10,000 feet.
All the species heavier than water be¬
long to tropical Florida, or in tho west
and southwest.—[Commercial Adver¬
tiser. * ~J
