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NORTH GEORGIA TIMES
C. X. KiNli. I Proprietor
S. B. OARfBR. )
Bells Bing- Sever Twice the Same.
Be not think that yonder bell.
Bong responsive in tile tower,
Minds not whether funeral knell
Or a happy marriage hour
It shall .next with peal proclaim—
Bella ring never twice the same.
Sever twice the same bud blows,
Though the plant may blossom oft;
When the wind dies no one knows
If it sinks or soars aloft—
Or If yet the new breeze may
Be the breath of yesterday.
Tender grow the apple-trees,
One blooms pink and one blooms white;
( There In May the honey-bees
Bum a chorus of delight;
But no bees one sees or hears
On the blossoms of past years.
And when youth departs, none dream
They can find it; yet they go
Searching up and down the stream,
By the paths they used to know,
Through the meadow, up the hill—
Their lost youth evades them still.
Breezes come to greet each day,
Bells ring glad and mournful strains,
Apple-trees bloom still in May
Only this sad fact remains;
Our lost youth, its flowers, its chimes.
Were the sweets of other times.
—[Mary A. Mason in Frank Leslie’s
LITTLE WHITE STONES;
It wag in a lonely little fishing ham¬
let that poor little Ruth was born, on
a night when a storm raged along the
coast and made Bad havoc amongst the
shipping near the shore; on a night
when more than one great steamer
Was wrecked at sea, aud on the night
when her father’s little fishing-smack
went down with all on board—all men
of her kindred—father, grandfather
and uncle. The old grandmother
knew the worst, as she held the new¬
born babe upon her knee before the
drift-wood fire. The mother never
knew; at dawn her soul had passed
away, and tire old woman of seventy
and the babe of seven hours were
alone left of the family that had filled
the little cabin the day before. A
happy, healthy, loud-voiced lot they
had been, and a strange silence settled
down upon the place where they had
been. The old women could nofeven
weep.
“I’m too frightened!” she said, in a
trembling voice, and shaking like an
aspen—she who had been firm of step
and loud-spoken as the youngest, a
few days back. “I suppose I must
have been left to mind the child.
Maybe til live to bo terrible old—
ninety or a hundred. It’s awful to
think of! Awful! Awfull”
But she did live, and the child
throve* She had the cabin and a boat.
The hire of the boat was about all she
depended on. Somebody planted her
little garden. Neighbors sent in little
gifts of food. Some fisherman always
had her dinner in his basket. And
after a while, the baby, with its
cunning ways, its creeping, its walk¬
ing, its first little babbling words,
gave hor an interest in life.
The baby changed into a little girl,
flaxen-haired,- bltfe-eyed and rosy.
The grandmother was still the tremb¬
ling creature with terror iu her pale
old eyes that that awful night had left
her, hut she grew no older. She was
never ill, and she loved little Ruthy
With a.love approaching idolatry.
By and by* Ruthy began to mako
friends of her own age. When
the sloop he sailed in was in port, Jack
Palmer, the cabin-boy of tho Dancing
Jennie, was nearly'always with her.
Little parties of boys and girls used to
play upon the sand, or sail about, the
shore, or catch crabs and pull the little
shell-fish from the rocks.
« Before they were more than children
Ruth and Jack loved each other dear¬
ly, and when she was fifteen he had
asked her whether she would be his
wife when he had wages enough to
marry on, and she had promised before
he sailed next time. lie had given
her a little blue-bead ring, and she had
eat off a lock of her flaxen hair and
wrapped it in her only hit of ribbon,
wMch he wore next his heart through¬
out the voyage.
Once when he came home he brought
her another present.
“Nothing much,” he said; “only
some little white stones that I found
in some oysters I was opening for the
captain’s mess. I said they are pretty
and Ruth w’d like them.”
Ruth thought them beautiful, and
made a little blue silk bag to keep
them in. She bad a few pretty
t
♦HWs.
SPRING PLACE. GA.. THURSDAY. FEBRUARY 26. 1891.
longer a little girl; and at last
Dancing Jennie went upon a longer
voyage than usual, and time wore on
without news of her.
Rath’s old grandmother was taken
very ill and soon died, and Rath was
left alone. A few debts had been con
tracted, and at all events a girl could
not live alone, and should be in the
way of earning something, people
said.
The cottage was to he sold with all
in it. What with her grief for her
grandmother and her anxiety about
Jack, Ruth was well-nigh broken¬
hearted. She accepted the fiat of her
neighbors, that “now she must go to
service,” and she asked for the vacant
place at Captain Bright’s and got it.
After the funeral she sat in the little
cottage, and watched the sale at auc¬
tion of the poor old woman’s pots and
pans, big feather-beds and old wood
stove, of the long settle that had stood
in the chimney-place since she was
horn, and the eight day clock that had
ticked out every moment of her life.
Then when the house was empty slje
took her little carpet-bag with her few
clothes, a.black paper silhouette of her
mother when a girl, and the little bag
of old blue silk in which she kept
Jack’s last gift—the pretty white
stones, and went to her new master’s
home as sad a little maid as ever
crossed a stranger’s threshold.
She had no time for sighing in the
captain’s brand-new red brick dwell
ing. She washed the dishes and pol
ished the spoons, and waited on the
door and the* table, and carried the
big baby about, and blacked the cap¬
tain's boots, and at night climbed to
her garret-room and sobbed herself to
sleep, thinking of young Jack lost at
sea and the old grandmother lying in
the little church-yard. No one cared
for her tears now—no one knew of
them. The boy who would have
kissed them away, the old dame to
whom she had ever been a darling
child who must bo soothed and
watched over, wore both gone, and
so the autumn wore away. Winter
came and Christmas-tide was near.
“Go to the store, Ruth, and tell
them to get me ten pounds of raisins
and five pounds of currants and a
pound of citron,” suid Mrs. Bright
pne evening, just before dark. “Run,
Ruth, or the store will be shut and old
Simon away home. 1 must begin my
pudding. It is Christmas-eve and a
pudding is nothing without stirrirfg—
nothing at all, and tell them I shall
want a little keg of lard the first thing
in the morning, for the crullers and to
send it by Sam, for you will be busy
enough without running errands. 1
like thing* fresh. I’ll not make my
crnllors days before, as some do.
Now, run like wild, Ruth. I don’t
see how I forgot I hadn’t the fruit;
aud be back as quick as you can.”
Ruth obeyed. Her light feet took
her down to old Simon’s store in the
shortest possible space of time. She
had given hor order, and had the fruit
in her basket, and was hurrying to¬
ward the door, when some one opened
it and burst in.
“News! News!” he cried. “News!
The Dolphin is just in, and brings
three men picked up at sea on the
wreck of the Dancing Jennie, all that
were left of the crew—Captain Parker,
old Sam Gill and young Jack Parker.
There’s very little left of them. They
were starving to death, and nearly
frozen. They’re just skeletons. Not
a man of them can stand on his feet ;
but they’re alive, and dootor says
they’ll get well. Mrs. Parker is al
most crazy with joy! Old Gil’s
daughter, too! As for little Jack
Parker, he hasn’t any kin, as far as
we know; but the boys’ll give him a
-welcome.”
Old Simon’s store was empty in a
twinkling. The loungers hurried up
the road toward the dock, but before
them flew a little figure that seemed to
have wings. It was Ruth. She had
forgotten all about the basket of fruit
which she had thrown from her into
tlie road without knowing it. Raisins
aud currants lay scattered in the dirt,
and the chickens -were making short
work of them. The citron was trod¬
den under foot. Ruth’s little black
hood had it to a branch and hung
there, an, of her old shoes had
dropped i e never knew where;
and so sh t ip the old house by
-
the dock i^ey had brought the
feeble sh, ‘ <s£ three men: where
Jfe kissed her husband’s
;*»d little Annie Gill
ricked f hysterically; and passing
inrough the crowd 6s one who had
a right, stood looking down on Jack.
Wss it Jack? Could he grow SO
pale, so-thin? Could his curly hair
hang so lankly about his temples, his
fqll throat shrink to this? Oh! yes,
yes, it was Jack, for the big brown
eyes turned toward her, and a . little
sigh of “Ruthy” faded on his pallid
lips.
“Are you kin of his, lass?” asked
the eaptain of the Dolphin, kindly.
“I never knew Jack had any one.”
“Pm his sweetheart, sir,” said
Ruthy, simply ; “and he is dearer to
me than any kin—t guess because we
are to marry each other some time.”
“You came near missing it, lass,”
said the old man. “If the Dolphin
hadn’t met that wreck when she did,
those thvee souls would be in heaven
this day, or Pm no sailor.”
Then Ruthy took his hand and
kissed it, and thanked him and Heaven
silently, v
“ Where on earth have you been?”
cried Mrs. Bright, standing at the
door, as Ruth approached the captain’s
home. “Where’s the raisins and the
currants; where’s your hat; and, good
gracipus! your shoes?”
“Ob, I don’t know, Mrs. Bright,”
answered Ruth, amidst her tears.
‘Jack has got home—Jack Parker.”
“The cabin-boy of the Dancing Jen¬
nie?” said Mrs. Bright
“H e used to be a cabin-boy; he’s a
sailor now,” said Ruth. “Oh, Mrs.
Bright, if you could see him!”
“I see him, indeed!” cried Mrs.
Bright. “And so because a cabin
boy or % common sailor before the
mast has come home, you’ve forgotten
Captain Bright’s pudding. It’s my
belief that’s mutiny!”
With which exposition of maritime
law, Mrs. Captain Bright boxed her
poor little maid-servant’s ears, and
sent her off to bed, without a candle.
It was a Christmas-day, and Ruth
sat with Jack. She would Idas her
place for it, but she could not stay
away, lie could talk to her a little,
and ho said over and over again that
if he had hut the means to buy a little
placo that he could farm, he would
leave her no more. But that could
not be. They were too poor. She
must go to a service place, he to sea,
for no one knew how long.
It was on a bed in the infirmary of
the poor-house that he lay. The other
two man had gone to their homes, but
he had none to go to. But it seemed
to him that after all fate was
kind. When he grew well he would
work hard to rise. Ruth was fit to be
a captain’s lady.
Poor little Ruth! Her bundle was
put away in a cupboard hard by. Mrs.
Bright iu her wrath had bade her
“take it and go.” But Ruth, too, had
a hopeful heart, and certainly might
find a kinder mistress.
“I can’t even give you a Christmas
present, Ruth,” said Jack. “I have
your hair over my heart now. It
would have gone down with me.”
“And I have your little ring and
those preity stones,” said Ruth.
“What stones?” aBked Jack.
“Those you found in the oysters,”
said Ruth; “a handful. Don’t you
remember?”
wft ‘•Iliad forgotten,” said Jack. “I
comes back to me now. Ruth, do you
know, I believe they are pearls. I
have seen some since, and they are
found in such shells.”
Ruth ran to the closet and got out
her bundle aud the two were looking
at them, when the doctor made Ms
rounds. f
The good man heard their story,
and examined their treasure.
“Pearls, of course,” he said; “and,
Jack, there are not many men in tMs
place able to make such a Christmas
present. These pearls are worth a
little fortune.”
It seemed too good to be true, but
true it was, nevertheless. The doctor
wrote to the proper persons, and s
jeweler came from New York to ex
amine the pearls, pronounced them
fine, and bought them. ■ ;
There was no more sea-going for
Jack, or serving for Ruth; and the
dream of (lie little farm became a
reality, and Ruth and Jack lived upon
it, as nappy as the king and the queen
in a fairy tale, forever after.—[The
Ledger. ’ ■ y _ ;
_
When it comes to a question of so
cietv the best is not always the cheap
est.
THE THIRD EYE.
It is Situated Near the Middle
of the Head.
Other Rudimentary Organs of
the Human Body.
“There is a kind of lizard found in
Virginia and Maryland that has three
eyes—one of them on the top of his
head,” said a man of science the other
day to a representative of the Washing¬
ton Star.
“It is generally supposed that they
are very rare, but, on the contrary,
they are quite common. You can find
plenty of them if you take the trouble
to look. They are green and about
three' inches long.”
“Are there any other animals in the
world that have three eyes?”
“Lots. For example, you youraelf
have a third eye, (hough it has become
rudimentary through disuse.”
“Where is it?”
“Just in the middle of your head,
as nearly *ns its location can be de¬
scribed off-hand. Anatomists know
it as the ‘pineal gland,’ but it is
actually an eye that has become rudi¬
mentary. Place the tip of your finger
just above the bridge of your nose
and on the level With your eyes. Di¬
rectly behind that point about five
inches, at the base of your brain, is
this gland I speak of, which the an¬
cients used to imagine was the centre
of consciousness and the scat of the
soul.
“Its structure has hit all resem¬
blance to-that of an eye, but you can
find it retaining more of its original
development in some turtles and other
reptiles. With them/this gland has
still, though in the middle of the head,
an actual eye socket*, an optic nerve
connecting with the visual tract of the
brain, and even the pigmentary inner
coat, the object of whichiir all dyes is
to absorb light. There is no retina,
but it is an eye for all that In the
case of the lizard I mentioned this
pineal eye actually appears at the top
of the head and is useful for seeing
with.
“There are quite a number of ru¬
dimentary organs in the human body
which have become so because nature
has no longer any use for them. For ex¬
ample there is the ‘thyroid gland’ in the
neck, the only usefulness of which
seems to be in occasioning the disease
known as goitre. People in Savoy
and the Tyrol are worst afflicted with
tMs complaint. It is supposed that
the water they drink, derived from
the melting of the glaciers of the
Alps, causes , the hypertrophy
of tho thyroid gland, the re¬
sult of which is an enormouB swelling,
so that sometimes the unfortunate
comes to have a bag-like appendage
hanging down as far as the waist
There is no known cure for the trouble
after it has got well started, though
the swelling may be a trifle reduced
by injections into its substance. It is
a very curious fact that if a human
being or any other animal is deprived
of tt)Js apparently useless gland by
cutting it out, there always follows a
general degeneration of all the tissues
of the body.
“Another seemingly useless organ
is the ‘supra-renal capsule’ attached to
each of the kidneys. Its only purpose
in a human being appears to be to oc¬
casion wliat is known as ‘Addison’s
disease,’ in cases where it gets out of
order. In such cases, which are hap¬
pily rare, the akin of the body loses its
natural color and becomes of a muddy
brown hjae. This ‘capsule’ is presum¬
ably the remains of what was once a
secretory organ.
••Then there is the mystorious ‘ver¬
miform appendix’ attached to the small
intestine. Once in a while an apple
seed or some such thing gets into it,
aud cauBeB inflammation. Until with¬
in the last four or five years Buch
cases were always fatal, but now they
are usually cured by cutting open the
stomach and removing the appendix.
Until very recently operations requir¬
ing the cutting open of the body in
this way almost invariably resulted iu
death, for the reason that germs could
not be prevented from getting into the
wound aud creating subsequent inflam¬
mation.
“But the bacteriologists have taught,
through their researches, how such
germs may be killed by spraying with
antiseptic solutions. The vermiform
Vol. XL New Series. NO. 4
appendix has considerable usefulness
among the lower animals. With the
cow and other beasts that chew the
cud it is a large sack attached to the
stomach, and it is utilized as a storage
reservoir for food that is not needed
for immediate consumption.”'
Tire Bine-Grass Horse.
Said a Kentuckian, speaking of
horses in New York and of the late
horse show: “There is no genuine
love for a horse where a livevied coach¬
man intervenes between horse and
master. No man can know and love
a horse without having had that com¬
panionship with him that is only en¬
in its fullness by a boy reared on
a farm, whose intimacy begau with his
first long-legged appearance ag a colt;
his whinnying after the mother; his
early gentleness when propitiated by
the kindly hand; his struggle when
first won from the .freedom of the
pastures, scorning the saddle and the
bit. Your Vanderbilts may know
horses after a manner, but they have
novev chased Rob Roy or the coy Mary
Jane over a forty-acre field, with the
halter behiud his back, only to delude
them at last with a soothing and confi¬
dential ‘Whoa, boy, whol now,’ and a
handful of salt. They have never be
strodo a sack on the way to the mill,
or had lively experiences with a ca¬
pricious animal and a sagging gate.
“These men may admire a horse
because be is a high stepper, or travels
well in a coach, or moves rightly in a
tandem, or sustains the family dignity
in a carriage, or disdains the dust of
a plebeian on a Seventh avenue drive,
but they do not know him, and love
him and honor him for his friendly
services or the useful part he plays in
the common life. That time he sped
for the country doctor, that time he
bore you on love’s own mission, when
your ‘bosom’s lord sat lightly on his
throne.’ The friendly intercourse be¬
lt oeu neighbors, the exeitemont of
the county court day, the church and
the wedding—in all these your Blue
Grass horse, God bless him! has a
part. There, or in any country made
for him, he is not the mere slave of
his master’s vanity. He is a real cit
izen, enjoying the franchise of the
tufted fields, and knowing the caress
of his owner’s baud.” What could
you say in reply to such a tribute as
that?—[New York Star.
A $60,000 Dinner Set.
The Astor family possess a gold din¬
ner-service that is tho envy of every
woman who has ever seen it. It is
one of the most costly in this country.
It is valued at $60,000, and is now the
property of Mrs. William Astor. It
has been in the family’s possession a
long time. It would be hard to de¬
scribe, as it was made in different
parts of the world, and was picked up
on odd occasions. The larger dishes
consist of an immense plateau aud
centre-piece, end pieces, candelabra,
wine-coolers and pitchers. In the de¬
sign is represented fruit of all descrip¬
tion, together with the unicorn and
lion in repousse work. Mrs. Astor
uses a white linen table-cloth of the
finest texture, made especially for her,
with a wide lace border, showing a
lining of pink satin. Her table is al¬
ways decorated with Gloire de Paris
roses', their exquisite shade of pink
matching exactly the satin underneath.
—[Ladies’ Home Journal.
Ants That Defoliate Trees.
Travellers in Brazil have met in
forests a stream of apparently moving
leaves. But under each leaf was an
ant, bearing his store to his subterran¬
ean home. The Sauba ants form ex¬
tensive underground galleries, and
when portions of thege galleries fall
in or are iu any way rendered useless,
they immediately extend them in an¬
other direction. These underground
galleries have been traced twenty
yards. The innumerable hosts of these
ants are unceasingly occupied in de¬
foliating trees. Their labor is regu¬
larly divided, some stripping the trees
and cutting the leaves in regularly
rounded pieces the size of a shilling!
others carrying them away as they fall;
others deposit the spoils in a heap close
to the mound, and others store them
away.—[New York World,
He was Hit Hard.
Teacher—Wliat is a famine?
Small Boy (who has been to the
oouutry)—Miles an’ miles of apple
trees an’ nothin’ ou ’em.—[Good
News.
The Croakers.
Some people talk blue, and feel so, toe,
To them life is all a grind;
They sigh and start, work the watering cart.
And troubles galore they find.
They see nothing sublime in the present
time,
With its hurry and bustle and strife,
For the men of today sre but pigmies at
pi«y,
And soon pass from the scenes of life.
So, mournfully placid, with temperaments
acid,
Their vision obscured from the sun,
They work with a rake in the muck that they
make,
And will till their sorrows are done.
— [New York Herald.
HUMOROUS.
Inn-dustrious—A hotel chamber¬
maid.
The stuff that dreams are made of—
Mince pie.
“Cat-nipped,” squeaked the mouse
as Tabby got the grip on him.
Man always likes to have his in¬
nings; but he also enjoys his outings.
A living dog is better than a dead
lion. You can’t make sausages out of
the king of beasts.
Walter—Do you object to cigars,
Miss Perte? Miss Perte—Never, un¬
less they are lighted.
A man no sooner getg old enough to
know how to talk well than he also
learns the value of not talking at all.
Mr. Askin.—How did you get rid of
that odious little fellow, Book wright,
who talked shop? Miss Playfair—I
talked shopping.
“What a dear little craft that wife
of yours is, eh, Dobson, old boy?”
“Dear? I should say so. I call her
my revenue cutter.”
Miss Hysee—I was encored three
times, wasn’t I? Mme. Logee—Yes;
the company seemed to recognize that
you neoded practice.
Squeers: How do you suppose it is
that Brandie, who led such a fast life,
is so well preserved? Beers: Perhaps
it is because he has been in so many
pickles.
Merchant—Can you manage to make
yourself understood when French or
Spanish customers come to the store?
Would-be-derk — Certainly, if they
know how to talk English.
Ethel—How can you manage to dis¬
tinguish the men who wish to marry
for money from those who really love
you? Maud—Those who really love
me make such awful fools of them¬
selves.
erished. Dr. Squibb—Your ‘ shall blood is prescribe impov¬
I have to
some iron for you. Mr. Waterbury—
Don’t, doctor. My wife says I look
rustier than any other man In town al.
ready.
Constance—“I care not for your
poverty, George. Let ns wed at
once. We can live on one ineaba day,
if necessary.” George — “Can you
cook, love?” Constance—“George, 1
attended a cooking school for two
months.” George—“Then we will
wed. I think one meal a day will
answer.”
Lives of all great men remind ut
What a sinecure ’twill be
For the widow left behind us
Selling our biography.
Beggars’ Code of Signals.
A gentleman who makes it a point
always to carry a few nickels in Ms
pocket for any apparently worthy
mendicant whom he meets during Ms
day’s wanderings started to’cross City
Hall Park from the Park Row side
yesterday afternoon when he was ap¬
proached by a seedy individual whose
face was almost blue from the cold.
“Excuse me, Sir,” said the seedy
one, “I have been down here for two
di^s from Boston and I haven’t eaten
—Oh, thank you, Sir, you’re a gentle¬
man,” Ms smudgy fist closing over
the nickel.
The gentleman turned after taking
a dozen steps and saw the seedy one
drop his handkerchief. Instantly an¬
other beggar sidled np and also got a
nickel. Like the firet, he wag profuse
in his thanks and emphasized them by
dropping his handkercMef. Then
came a third with the plausible tale of
a long and weary walk from Philadel¬
phia.
“See here,” said the gentleman,
“I’ve just been held up by two of your
pals, and I think you are a gang of
professionals. Skip!”
Number three took the advice, but
■