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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