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T i NORTH GEORGIA TIA T jyi m ww 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.