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NORTH GEORGIA TIA T jyi m
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C. N. KWi. ( I r Jjiri.'toi'
S. B. CARTER, »
Nobility.
True worth is in being—not seeming;
- In doing each tiny that goes by
Some iittle good —not in the dreaming
Of great things to do by-ami bve.
For whatever men say in blindness.
And spite of the fancies of youth,
There’s nothing so kinndy as kindness,
And nothiug so loyal as truth.
We get back our mete as we measure—
We cannot do wrong and feet right;
Nor can we give pain and gain pleasure.
For justice avenges each slight.
The air for the wing oi the sparrow,
The bush for the robin and wren,
But always the path that is narrow
And straight for the .children of men.
We cannot make bargains for blisses;
Nor catch them, like tidies, in nets;
Aud sometimes the. things bur life misses
Help more than the things which we get.
For good lielh not in pursuing
Nor gaining of great nor of small ;
But just in the doing, and doing
As we would be done by, is all.
Thro’ envy, thro’ malice, thro hating,
Against the world early and late,
No jot of our courage abating—
Our part is to work and to wait;
And slight is the sting of iiis trouble
Whose winnings arc less than his worth;
For he who is honest Is noble,
Whatever his fortune or birth.
— [C. II. Sbcttcrly, in Detroit Free Dross.
The Cartwright Twins.
BY MIi». M. A. KIDDKIt.
It was a low, rambling, 6hcd of a
iiouse—made, it is true, to look pictur¬
esque by the wealth of green vines and
Japanese climbing roses that com¬
pletely covered the low eaves and even
crept across the roof and peeped over
on the other side. The flowers and
vines were twined and intertwined
till the cottage looked like a floral
bower, and fit for a fairy princess.
But this was all outside show, like
many another dwelling-place, both of
soul and body, in this strange, deceiv¬
ing world.
It took the winds of autumn and
tho wild, rude storms of winter to
strip it of its glory.
Inside it was a cheerless, bare place,
consisting of sitting-room, bedroom,
and kitchen, with a loft or garret
where the pigeons roosted aud the rats
and mice held high revelry.
The sitting-room was parlor and
dining-room as well, except when
James Cartwright, the hard-working
tenant, was too busy to tramp a lialf
inilo to eat his frugal dinner at his
own humble board; then it was that
little Susie put up a leaf in the kitchen
table set against the wall, placed two
plates and a corresponding number of
knives aud two-tined forks, a cup and
a saucer, a plate of sweet butter, and
a home-made loaf, with some simple
relish thereon, with a cup of tea al¬
ways for mother.
Susie's hands were small, yet. very
busy. Scarce a head taller than the
table, site was as handy- as many a
grown maiden in cutting the bread,
pouring out the tea, and bettor than
all, in washing the dishes—the dread
of all housekeepers—mid tidying up
the room till it shone.
There were no ottomans, velvet
tapestry, or stuffed furniture, to ar¬
range and keep clean. The well-worn
rag carpet, the half-dozen cane-seat
chairs, and old-fashioned mahogany
table, that had otico belonged to
“Granny Cartwright,” with the well
filled work-basket on tho wide win¬
dow-ledge, comprised the appointments
of the simple “best room.”
Mrs. Cartwright was an invalid, but
she “mourned not as those Without
hope.” When the sweet May flo\ver s
should blossom and the hills be clad in
green, she prayed that her “hope”
might blossom also in strength and
beauty—in short, that the little one
iheycxpected would be perfect and
comely.
If Susie (who was ten years old)
had been more of the hopes and as¬
pirations of her parents, and had a
voice or choice in ’the matter, she
would have expressed her longings
for a “little sister,” but.^as it was,
there were devout inward prayers go¬
ing up from tho hearts of tho humble
pair that the baby migb%be a boy!
“Our prayers are answered, Mar¬
tha,” said plain James Cartwright, as
he kissed his wife and glanced at the
hour-old, red-faced baby fn the nurse’s
arms, two mouths later than when our
sfory opens. “I would remain with
you longer, but an important j b is
waiting, and the work must be et
tanded to now more than ever, for we
have another mouth to fill. Heaven
bless you both I” and the stalwart
blacksmith started-with long strides
for his smithy.
JsmKb wow
i %
SPRING PLACE. GA.. THURSDAY. NGVEMBR 6. 189(1.
The foundry bell sounded its six
measured strokes, and at the last,
stroke the IdJeksnftith left his anvil
by the forge, and hurriedly creeping
out of his overalls, started for home.
“Kiss thy baby, father,” cried the
delighted Susie, as soon as he had en¬
tered the room, holding up the iittle
mite for the paternal salute.
Cartright did as ills daughter re¬
quested him, though in rather an awk¬
ward manner.
“Did you kiss the baby at noon,
father?”
“Yes, Susie.”
“Well, this isn’t the same one you
kissed then, father,” and Susie laughed
till the tears ran down her checks at
the choice bit of news she had to tell
him.
"AVhat do you mean. Sue!”
“Why, we’ve got. twins—didn’t you
know it, father? The sweetest little
boy and girl that, you ever saw. The
doctor brought the girl after you went
to work.”
This was a poser.
•Tames Cartwright loved his wife and
children; but another girl, and a twin
altliat, was more than he could exactly
be thankful for, in his straitened
circumstances. Martha could not nurse
both, so a nurse must be kept and that
would take the little he was trying
every week to lay by against the “rainy
day,” that was sure to come some time.
With these thoughts in his mind lie
stepped softly into the poorly fur¬
nished bedroom, ami kissed the cheek
of iiis patient wife, his Martha, who
had borne with him the heat and bur¬
den of life s battle, and been to him
at all times a helpmate i* the fullest
sense of the word.
“They are darlings, are they not
James?” the pale lips murmured, as
the nurse uncovered the tiny twain,
nestled in each other’s arms.
“They are pretty enough, Martha,
but a little more than wo prayed for or
wished; don’t you think so dear, with
our small resources?”
“Oh, James, you aro not pleased,
or you wouldn’t speak in that way.
God ordaineth all things, love, and He
will provide.”
The twins grew apace and were
talk and wonder the neighborhood
for their inielligoncd mid beauty, and
it was,too,the wonder of the neighbor¬
hood that James Cartwright never
seemed as fond of his baby girl as of
his other children.
“She came two years too soon,” lie
would say, laughingly, “and cost mo
all my spare money.”
Six years passed away and Susie
Cartwright, who had grown to be a
delicate, pretty maiden of sixteen,
seemed bound up in the twins. What¬
ever love and attention was lacking
on the father’s part for little Pauline
was fully made up by tho mother and
daughter.
Strange as it seemed, though, the
little girl idolized her father, and was
never happy out of his sight. She and
little Paul would oftentimes wander
down to the blacksmith’s shop, and
linger around until time for dinner
supper. Then James Cartwright
would issue from the shop, clasp his
boy in his arms, perch him upon his
shoulder, and start for home, leaving
Pauline to trudge along as she could
The little thing was old enough now
to feel the slight (having arrived at
the age of six years), and resent it.
“Won’t von take me up, papa?”
“No. Papa must carry his own
darling boy. Y r ou run homo to
nyotlier.”
“No, I sha’n’t. If you won’t carry
me, I sha’n’t go home,” said the will¬
ful little Pauline. “I'll go see grand¬
ma.”
Pauline turned short, and went in
the opposite direction down the road.
James Cartwright had'been so busy
frollicking with his boy that this proud
little speech was lost upon him, and
when ho reached his cottage the child
was nowhere to be seen.
“Which way did she go, father?”
cried Susie, iu alarm.
“She’s gone to grandma's,” cried
Paul, the spoiled child.
“Grandma”, was none other than an
old half-civilized Indian woman, who
lived a mile from the Cartwrights, in
a hut standing back among the dense
woods, a short distance from the road.
In this direction Susie rati with all
her speed, her father quickly follow¬
ing; but Pauline was not in sight.
She arrived at the old woman’s hut,
only to finl it bolted and barred, with
no sign of life within. ___
“She has gone off on one of her
tramps,” said Cartwright, wiping the
perspiration frern his face. “What
shall we do now, Susie?”
“Hunt till we lind our darling—
what else, father?"
“She may have fallen in the creek
aud been drowned. If so, L shall
never forgive myself for not taking
care of her as 1 should.”
The night passed; the village was
aroused; the creek and, river were
dragged; but the child was not found,
nor anything belonging to her except
a doll which she had. dropped on the
high-road.
Years passed, and .Tames Cartwright
still worked at the smithy, but. not a
smile was ever seen on his face, and
i^it .t joke ever passed his lips. Re was
a changed man.
“L murmured when she was horn,”
he would say, “and God has taken her;
but my punishment seems greater than
I can bear.”
Ten years passed. Susie was mar¬
ried and settled in the far-West, and
Paul was at boarding-sclipol, many
miles away, when the lonely couple
were surprised, ono bright Sunday
morning, by the sudden appearance of
the old Indian woman in the sitting,
room. She kept about the village a
great deal of the time, but seldom
made calls.
“Are ye lonesome, old Cartwright!”
said the half-breed, in a not very re¬
spectful manner.
“Yes, Kate; it seems like a tomb
here,” said the sorrow-stricken father.
“Your conscience troubles yc about
yer lost papoose, doesn’t it, olu man?”
“Hush, Kate, will you? Don’t
bring up tho terrible past!”
“Ye’d like to see her, I take it:
What’ll vo give?”
Something in the old woman’s oyc
startled the old man.
“Is she alive, Kate? For Heaven’s
sake, tell me! Do you know anything
about her?”
“Who said I did?” said the old
woman, chuckling. “I said what’ll
you give?”
“All my little savings, which isn’t
much. Everything I have in the
world, Kate, shall be yours if you but
bring me my darling—my lost Paul
ine!”
The old woman went out, chuckling
to herself.
In the evening she came back,bring¬
ing with her a tall, graceful girl, the
very image of what Snsie had been ten
years before.
“Here she is, old Cartwright. I
didn’t mean to steal her, but I found
her trudgin’ along my way one day,
and I thought I’ll teach you a lesson;
and so I took her to a city lady, who
brought her up and sent lier to school.
She knows enough, and she hasn’t for¬
got you neither. Now let me tell you
one thing. Every Indian father and
mother love their papooses, no matter
liow many come, even beasts do, for
that matter. I dou’t want your
money, only as much as’ll get mo a
dinner, perhaps, so good-by, don’t be
sparing of your love now!”
There was great rejoicing at the
Cartwright cottage, and the whole
Tillage rejoiced in sympathy, though
they felt indignant enough against old
Kate to tar and feather her for abduct¬
ing the girl. But the Indian woman
had disappeared, and was never seen
in the neighborhood again.—[New
Y’ork Weekly.
The Famous Bath Springs House.
In a few days tho famous Bath
Springs Iiouse in Bristol, Penn., will
be torn down. Erected in 1810, it
xyas for v many years the resort of the
elite. Of, the country, and was known
even tdvisitors from Europe. At the
close of tho wav with Great Britain, in
1816, a brilliant company celebrated
the event by giving a graud ball in the
morning, at which nearly all the celeb¬
rities of the country were present.
Joseph Bonaparte, who lived in Bor
deutown, frequently visiled the hotel
in liis gorgeous state chariot, which
Stephen Girard had presented to him,
being often accompanied by Prince
Murat. The springs which mado the
hotel so famous were once regarded as
a sovereign cure for almost every¬
thing; hut when the Saratoga Springs
were discovered in 1822, their glory
gradually , departed, and though the
cleat- water still bubbles forth as of
yore, its virtues are no longer chron¬
icled, in spite of the fact that it still
retains its former mineral properties,
s'ew York Tribune.
THE YAVI-SUPAIS
An Almost Unknown Indian
Tribe in Arizona.
Discovered in a Starving Con¬
dition by a Californian.
Colonel YV. 1J. Holabird of Clare¬
mont, I.OS Angeles county, is at tho
Palace Hotel, having ju-t returned
from an exploring expedition in the
canyons of the Colorado. Re left
TV illiams, a station on the Atlantic and
Pacific Hit i I road, with iiis guide, YVi'.
Jinin Bass, a teamster, a photographer
ami two servants, and traveled through
an almost wholly unexplored region.
About 100 miles due north of Williams
he found the Y'avi-Supai tribe of In¬
dians, living in exclusion in Cataract
canyon, not far from the Grand can¬
yon of the Colorado.
“1 found there a strange race of
red men,” said Colonial Holabird to a
Chronicle reporter last evening. “I
guess I was the second white man who
ever visited their canyon. They are a
peaceable people, but. avoid coining in
contact with the whites. They arc of
the Apache family, but are evidently
a very ancient people. The men are
magnificent specimens of manhood,
with fine physiques. I rounded up
the settlement and counted just 247 of
them, fully two-thirds being females.
The valley iu which their tribe have
lived for many years in seclusion has
but two ways of approach. It contains
perhaps 2000 acres, and is inclosed by
almost perpendicular walls 4000 feet
high.
“The chief of the strange tribe liv
ing.in this canyon is an old man of 60
years named Captain Tom, a name
given him by John D. Lee, tho Mor¬
mon, who escaped from Utah and for
six years lived in hiding with the red
men. lie was the first white man the
Yavi-Supais bad ever seen, and lie
taught the chief the white man’s lan¬
guage and the use of firearms. Tho
Indians live in small houses woven
from young willow trees. They arc a
simple and harmless people, wholly
unacquainted with civilization. The
young men are experts with the bow
and arrow, and can kill birds in the
air and rabbits on the run with tho
greatest ease. The old chief mot our
party with two warriors as a body¬
guard. They wore decked up with
paint and their trappings, and looked
fierce enough.
“1 found these Indians in a starving
condition, living on cedar berries and
grass seeds. As soon as I reached the
railroad I communicated with the In¬
terior Department, asking for assist¬
ance for these Indians, and the reply
from the Interior Department stated
that the red men were a wandering
people and could not ask the govern¬
ment for assistance, I have since re
ported the ease to General Miles, and
he has promised to investigate the
matter. The Indians aro not a roving
people, but have lived in the canyon
for a century or more. General Miles
informed me that ho had heard of this
strange race, but had never been able
to secure a guide to the canyon where
they live.
“Dr. Samuel Dorchester, whom I
met at YVilliams, A,. T., has just con¬
cluded taking tho Indian census of
Arizona, which shows an Indian popu¬
lation in tho territory as follows:
Navajos, 18,000; Papagos, Pimas and
Maricopas, 9000; San Carlos Apaches,
4500; Moquis, 2200; Mojavcs, 2200
and Yavi-Supais, 250, being a total of
Over 38,000 Indians in Arizona.”—
[San Francisco Chronicle.
Temperature of the Sea.
The thermometer has become a use¬
ful instrument in examining the basins
into which the bottom of the sea is
divided. The geography of tho sea
bottom is determined from tho tem¬
perature of the water as readily as it
would he by repeated sounding^.
When th6 Challenger cruised in the
waters east aud south of China several
years ago, the geography of the differ¬
ent seas formed by the groups and
chains of islands off that coast wa
made out in tl^s way.
Iu tho open Pacific, and 8n all r«as
into which the oceanic currents flow,
tho temperature varies from the sur¬
face to the bottom. Qf course the
deeper water is the cooler.
If a basin be cut off- from this gen
flow up to within a certain depth
Vol. X. New Series. NO. 40
from the surface, then the temperature
will be found to lower just as in the
ocean, until a depth is reached just
even with the top of the enclosing
bank or reef. From that point to the
^bottom the temperature is found to be
uniform.
Some observations in the waters
named will make this intelligible. It
was found that the temperature of the
Celebes Sea varied until a depth of
seven hundred fathoms was reached.
From that depth down to more than
twenty-five hundred fathoms there was
no perceptible change. '1 lie walls of
its basin, then, toward the Pacific, rise
to within seven hundred fathoms of
the surface. No colder water than
that of tho tropical Pacific at a depth
of seven hundred fathoms was poured
into this basin, and that was the
temperature that the basin could pre¬
serve.
In the Sulu Sea the temperature re¬
mained tho same from a depth of four
huudred fathoms to the bottom at
more than twenty-live huudred fath¬
oms. All this body of water was
warmer than that of tho Celebes, be¬
cause the rim of its basin coming
nearer the surface, not so cold water
could flow in from the ocean.
In the Molucca passage the tempera¬
ture of the water decreased gradually
from the surface to the bottom. This
proves that these waters are not cut off
from the ocean currents by any ridge
toward the Pacific.—[Youth's Com¬
panion.
Coffee Cochineal.
The coffee plantations in the depart¬
ment of Amatitlan, Guatemala, have
lately been ravaged by a peculiar in¬
sect, which M. Adolf Vcndrell lias
ascertained to bo a new species of
cochineal. The principal industry in
this district formerly was the cultiva¬
tion of cochineal. When examined
microscopically, one of the injects is
seen to contain a yellowish liquid with
thousands of little eggs. As the de¬
velopment of the eggs continues tlioy
become larger, and tho liquid dimin¬
ishes, so that a dry insect contains no
liquid, but innumerable eggs of a red¬
dish yellow color, which look like
very fine powder, and aro transported
by the wiud as easily as the pollen of
flowers.
In December the insects are in the
former condition, and about February
and March the female insect reaches
tho stage of full development and
ejects the eggs, covering them with its
body. The insects aro only noticed on
the coffee plants when the fomales are
fecundated; but by this time the plant
has become sickly and yellow; it is
imperfectly nutrified, and, should it
reach the fruiting stage, the berries
are small and of Tittle value. M. Ven
drell thinks that this is because the in¬
sects extract nitrogen from the plants,
and he consequently advises manuring
with nitrate of soda.—[Scientific
American.
A Rare Mineral.
The State Mining Bureau received
from the New Almaden Mine, Santa
Clara county, recently, a curious speci¬
men of pilinite. It is in the form of
a thin sheet and closfiy resembles
sheepskin. From Assistant Mineralo¬
gist Schneider it was learned that this
mineral was discovered in Silesia by
Professor von Lasanlx in 1876 and is
considered rare. In fact, until a short
time ago, specimens of the mineral
were accepted without question as
asbestos. It cannot be dissolved by
any known agency and when fused
loses nothing but tho water in it. It
takes its name from the Greek pilinoS,
—[San Francisco Chronicle.
Not a Doubtful State.
“Papa, what is a doubtful State?”
asked little Freddy, who bad been
looking over the political news.
“Marriage is a doubtful state, my
son,” answered Brown, with a humor¬
ous twinkle in his eye as he looked at
his better half. Don’t you think so,
Mrs. Brown?”
“No, I don’t think it’s a state at all,”
she answered; “to mo it always
seemed like a ter-ror-tory.”
Brown was silent.
A Humane Farmer.
There is a large farm iti Mississippi
on which there is only one old whip,
and that is not used. The owner will
not permit the whip to be used on auy
of the stock, and tho farm does well,
aud the animals work with a will
without feeling the lash.
Love’s Dawn.
fn wandering through waste places of
world
I met my love aud knew not she was mini
But soon a light more tender, more divine,
Filled earth and heaven; richer cloud-cur¬
tains furled
The west at eve: a softer flush impearled
TIip gates of dawn; a note more pure and
fine
Bang in the thrush’s song; a rarer shine
Varnished the leaves by May’s sweet sun un¬
curled.
To me, who loved but knew not. all the ail
Tremtileil to shocks of far-off melodies.
As all the summer’s rustling Uirills the
trees
When Spring’s suns strike their boughs,
asleep and bare.
And then, one blessed dnv, I saw- arise
Love’s morning, glorious, iu her candid
eyes.
— [John Hay, In the Century.
___5.
•#
HUMOROUS. i
A watchword—“Time!” i
Bakers arc great men to loaf.
“The dust of ages”—Gold dust.
Song of the miner—“My dream of
life is ore.”
A cutting remark—How will you
have your hair trimmed?
If we all received just deserts vBj
a dry time wc would have.
liiehes have wings; but thev^^f
ron-i bn the highest branches.; A
II must have been a dairy “Cii^ ^B >
invented the expression,
The man who : ; trying
finds lo(< -■ ah-tvcj^H aA
list' behind >.
I f a vor.ii ;su i i, |
low Hie 1» lit of his
III- is like:., to <_•'•! into ^B
“Why did y... ii tnun-yl
eight) years . ; Ge?W
couldn't timl one eqmillyvSB
was ninety.”
“What is. sweeter than to have
friend you can trust?” asked Golding.
“To have a friend who will trust
you,” replied Dawkins.
“That's our court house up on the
hill.” “What! That little arbor?”
“Yes, there were seven engagements
took place there yesterday.”
“Good intentions are often thwarted
in the most mysterious ways,” as the
young man remarked when his best
girl sneeaed just as he was on the point
of kissing her.”
Unprejudiced sympathy is always
with the under dog in the fight. In a
cat fight sympathy for the under cat
is misplaced. The under animal is in
scratching position and has the best of
it.
“Morgan—“What brand of cigars
does Maxwell smoke?” Dorgan—
“They call them tho ‘Riot Act."’
Morgan — «‘Why?” Dorgan — ‘ ‘Be¬
cause they never fail to scatter a'
crowd.”
“Portrait of Doge,” read Mrs
Svmplo, in the Metropolitan Museum
of Art. “Well,” 6he added, “ho
seems to have been a pretty good
painter, but he didn’t know how to
spell dog. ^
Cashley—It’s a fact,old man. Since
I met that girl I cannot eat or sleep.
I am a miserable man. Is there noth¬
iug I can do to cure me of this mad
infatuation? Dashley— You might
try marrying her.
She—“George, I see by the paper
that a general tie-up lias been ordered
in the building trades.” He—“Well,
what of it?” She—“Er-um-don’t you
think it would be a good time for us
to fall into line, George?”
good’ “Well, sir, this dismissal will cost a
many people their lives,” said
McBrick, as he was bounced. “Do
you mean to threaten me?” demanded
his employer. “Not at all. It simply
means that I am going to become a
doctor.”
Her hand was evidently not on good
terms with soap and water, but was
heavily loaded with jewelry. “By
George!” whispered McBrick, “there’s
some rich digging over there. I
should say that dirt would assay a dol¬
lar an ounce.”
Drawing Teacher—Now, this is a
symmetrical figure. Can any one toll
ine what symmetry is? Ah! There is a
little boy with his hand What is
symmetry, little boy? Jimmy Scan
lag—Piaze, sov, it do bo a place fwore
they buries dead paple.
If you offer your hand to some fair maid,
As to wedding perhaps she’ll scoff.
Butif you offer it to a buig saw
The affair’s likely to come off.
