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NORTH GEORGIA TIMES
C. N. KtXli. 1J roprletor
8. B. CJARTER, I
Tho Song That Silas Sung,
Neighbor Silas sung a song
Every day hts whole life long,
Sung it gladly ’neath the cloud
That hung o’er him like a shroud,
Or when sunbeams with their play
Gleamed and glorified his way,
Like a shower of joy outfiung
Was the song that Silas sung:
“Let the howlers howl
And the scowlcrs scowl,
And the growlers growl,
And the gruff gang go it;
But behind the night
There’s a plenty of light.
And everything is ail right
And I know itl"
Like the battle drum to me
Was that song of victory,
Like the flute’s exultant strain
'Mid the wounded and the slain,
Like the quick blood-stirring fife
On the battle-plain of life—
Far and free the echoes rung
Of the song that Silas sung:
“Let the howlers howl.
And the scowlers scowl,
And tbe growlers growl,
And the gruff gang go it;
But behind the night
There’s a plenty of light,
And everything is all right
And I know It 1”
Silas’ soul has taken flight,
Passed in music through the night,
Through the shadow chili and gray
And gone singing on Its way;
But the quaint song that was his
Cheers the saddened silences;
Still glad triumph notes are flung
From the song that Silas sung;
"Let the howlers howl,
And the scowlers scowl, i
And the growlers growl,
And the gruff gang go it;
But behind the night
There’s a plenty of light,
And everything is all right
And I know itl"
—[S. W. Foss, in Yankee Blade.
BESS TREFOIL'S REWARD
BY AMY RANDOLPH.
It was a clear, frosty February
morning, the sun glistening on a man¬
tle of newly fallen snow, tho wind
Whistling merrily around the street
eorners, and Flora Trefoil made haste
to Dutton her well worn jacket and
fasten on her black felt hat with the
goid-greon cock's plume. *
“How I do hate to work,” mur¬
mured sho, with a pout of her rose-red
ups. “How I wish I were rich, like
that swarthy-complexioned little Cu
Dau heiress, wlro orders such lots of
dresses of Madame! I say, Bess,” to
the pale cousin, who was helping Mrs.
Trefoil to clear away tho dishe3, “do
mako haste. Do you want to be fined
for being late?”
“I shall not he late,” said Bess. “1
oan walk very fast when onco wc are
out. But Aunty Nan has a headache
(his morning, anil I can’t leave her
with all this to do!”
“Amity Nan is always living head¬
aches,” mid Flora. “I say, Bess, if
we go on that b’g sleigh-ride to-night,
what shall you wear? The red merino?
Charley Cotesworth likes red! He
said so, lust week.”
“I don’t know,” said,Bess, coloring
a little. “Aunty Kan, I’ll bring up
some buns for tea, aud n pound of
crackers. I’m readv now, Flora.”
At Madamo Eurico's place times
were unusually busy. Several brilliant
balls were to take place just before
Lent, and Madume’s customers Were
people who seemed to believe that
nothing jit the dressmaking line was
impossible. Flora and Bess Trefoil
were among her beat hands, and. just
as the little errand-girl was lighting
up the rooms, the fat Frenchwoman
waddled hurriedly in where Flora sat.
“Miss Trefoil,” said she, “hero is
an order from Mrs. Goldcoin. She
wants an olive-plush gown by to-mor¬
row afternoon, w itltout fail, and if 1
dou't take the job, she’ll give it to that
odious Miss Mainwaring on Union
Square. I must get it done. Your
cousin is fitting her upstairs now, and
you must take the gowa home to
“To-night! Oh,” cried Flora, re¬
membering the projected sleigll ride.
“I couldn’t, possibly.”
“It must be done,” said Madame
Enrico, knitting her black eyebrows.
“In an emergency like this, I expect
my young women to help me/—if they
intend,to retain their places. Of course,
I shall pay you in proportion,” she
added, encouragingly.
“But I had an engagement—”
“Your engagement must wait,” said
the modiste, authoritatively. “Here is
the skirt and the pattern-plate. Tho
bodice will be sent down from the fit¬
ting room directly.’’ haV
; P*kn could burst into tears,
SPRING PLACE. GA., THURSDAY. APRIL 23, 1891.
had such grief been of any avail—but
she was not yet at her wits’ end—and
when the two consias joined each other
at the little side exit where the
“hands” went out on their way home,
she gave the parcel into Bess’s aston¬
ished bands.
“Here’s something that Madame
wants you to get finished by tomorrow
afternoon,” said she,indifferently. “She
says yon understand Mrs. Goldcoin’s
figure. Of course, you’H have to work
all night, but she’s willing to pay you
extra 1”
Bess opened her dark-gray eyes
wide.
“I thought tho gown was to be given
to you,” said she. “Madame Enrico
told me—”
“Oh, no,” said Flora, uttering the
ready lio without blanching', “it’s you,
this time. And, since you can’t go on
the 6leigh-ride, do you mind my wear¬
ing the cherry-colored merino? My
crushed-raspberry cashmere is really
getting too shabby to bo decent.”
Bess was silent. For weeks she lind
been looking forward to this slcigh
ridc, and in her heart she dearly loved
Charles Cotesworth, who was to have
been ber cavalier. The big tears
sparkled into her eyes; her lower lip
quivered. Flora watched her with
furtive intentness.
“It’ll snit you, exactly,” said she.
“You are such a money-worshiping
little miser!”
“I am not a miser,” retorted Bess.
“But I do like to help Aunty Nan
a little, and to pay Cousin Thankful
Movse’s ward at tho Old Ladies’
Home.”
“One can’t support all the old peo¬
ple in creation,” Flora said. “Aunt
Nan isn’t our real relation after all—”
“But sho brought us up and cared
for ns when we were little, Flora.”
“Aud she don’t need half the things
yon are always getting for her,’»
scornfully added Flora. “You spoil
everybody, Bess.”
Cousin Thaukful Morse had come
over from tho Home, by the aid of a
stout crutch, to see the girls start on
their sleighing expedition; she sat by
the fire, drinking a cup of tea and
munching toast.
“La me I” cried she. “Bess not
going? And arter settin’ such a deal
o’store by itl Well, I declare, it’s
loo bad.” •
Bess sat quietly down to work at
the olive plush dress with its shim¬
mering draperies of rich olive satiu
aud velvet passementerie trimmings;
while Flora attired herself in tho red
merino, and adjusted a new hat
picturesquely trimmed with fur, ”that
she had borrowed from Madamo Eu¬
rico’s bead trimmer for the occasion.
“Boss has made up her mind not to
come,” said she, in answer to young
Cotosworth’s eager inquiry. “She had
a chance to do a little extra sewing
for extra pay, and dear Boss is dread¬
fully fond of money for one so young.
Quite a miser, you know.” And
Flora’s laugh rang out sweet and
clear, above the jingle of the sleigh
bells.
It was long past midnight when the
gay party returned, but Boss still sat
sewing at the machine. She listened,
with a pale, set face, to Flora’s exag¬
gerated description of “tho delightful
lime they had had.”
“I’d help you, Bess, if I wasn’t so
awfully tired,” said Flora, with a
yawn. “Are you nearly through?”
Bess smiled. Did Flora dream, she
thought, how tired she was? And
there were yet four or five hours’
work on the gown.
“Oh,” casually added Flora, “I for¬
got J,o tell you that I stepped on tho
skirt of the red merino dress, getting
into the sleigh to come home, and
tore it Into ribbons. But it was an
old thing, anyway. You couldn’t
have got much more wear oat of it.
Aud Charlie was so nice.*?
“Was he? Didn’t he osk where I
was?”
Flora shook her head. Where was
the use, she thought, of encouraging
Bess to think too much of the band
some young steam-fitter, whom she,
Flora, hod fully determined to make
her own prey?
“I'm so tired of this everlasting
dress-making,” said Flora to herself.
“And Charles Cotesworth would be a
husband for any girl to be proud of.”
Cousin Thankful Morse sat in her
little room at tho Old Ladies’ Home,
the next day, when the matron
brought the steamfitter’a foreman to
look at the flawed radiator-pipes un¬
der the window. She knew him at
once.
“Why it’s Mr. Cotcsworth, ain’t
it?" said she, peering over the rims ot
her silver spectacles. “Well, 1 d<kde¬
clare! Why, Bess Trefoil was just
here. She come to bring me a now
fur tippet and inutf; I couldn’t ’a’ gone
to church next Sunday with the old
lynx set, so badly eaten with moths.
Sho set up all night to finish a job for
the dressmaker; it was ono, too, that
Flora ought to hav’ done, but she
somehow contrived to push it off on
to Bess—Flora allays was a selfish
creetur’—and Boss jest spent
the money for me and her
aunt Nan! Bess is allays thinking of
other people. It’s Bess as pays my
board here, Mr. Cotesworth,” added
the loquacious old lady, as Charlie
bent to examine the joints of the steam
pipes. “I’d be on tho townd cf it
wasn’t for her. Flora wouldn’t care
nothin’ cf I was. She thinks old folks
hain’t no business to exist. Poor
Bess! I was dreadful sorry for her
last night; she wauted to go on that
sleigh-ride awful bad! But she
knowed ef she lost tho place at Mad
aino What’s-her-uame’s, there wouldn’t
be no rent paid nor clothes bought for
Mrs. Trefoil!’’
Charles Cotesworth straightened
himself up.
“She really wanted to go, then?”
said he. ‘ ‘Flora told me—”
Cousin Thankful wagged her head
of stiff little gray curls.
“You can’t put no dependence on
what Flora Trefoil says," declared
she. “She’s allays a-tryln’ to put
other people in the background. I
jest wish you could ’a’ seen Bess cryin’
over her work arter you’d all gone
away and left her last night!"
“Do you think,” said Cotesworth,
seizing his monstrous nippers as if
with fatal intent, “she would bo at
home if I were to call to-night?”
Cousin Thankful looked woudrously
sage.
“Ef I was you, Charlie,” said she,
“I’d go to the dressmaker’s place and
sort o’ calculate to walk home with
her. Or else, like’s not, you’ll find
yourself caught in some of Flora’s
tricks and traps. I hain’t no confi¬
dence in Flora!”
Mr. Cotesworth availed himself of
the old woman’s hint. When Boss
Trefoil came out of Madame Enrico’s
little side-door that evening into the
dark street, whore tie gas-lamps
blurred feebly against the driving mist
which was fast effacing the purity of
the snow, Charlie’s umbrella was wait¬
ing for her.
“Mr. Cotesworth!" she cried, with a
little start.
“You are not sorry to see me, Bess?"
“No; but—but—"
“Bessie, I didn’t half enjoy the
sleigu ride last night without you.”
Her face shone radiant under the
row of theatre lamps which they were
just passing.
“Really?”
(It seemed such a silly thing to say,
but what else was there for her?)
They were in a dark place now; he
drew her arm in his,
“We can walk better nnder one um¬
brella—so,” raid he. “I wonder, Bess,
what you would say if I were to ask
you to walk through all the years of
life at my side.”
“I think,” murmured Bess, “I—
should say—yes.”
Flora Trefoil was amazed beyond
measure when she found that quiet,
pale Bess had been Charles Cotes
worth’s choice, ki spite of her own
more showy fascinations. But Consin
Thankful chuckled to herself, in the
little corner room of the Old Ladies
Home:
“She deserves her happiness, every
bit of it,” said Cousin Thaukful; “and
I’m proper glad that Flora has got
come up with.”—[The Ledger. "
A New Sort ot Swindle.
Jewelers test watches by pouring
acid on a certain part of the rim of
tbe back cover of the timepiece: A
clever swindler, knowing this, got
gome cheap, gold plated watches and
cleverly inserted a piece of solid gold
in the particular pact of the rim> of
the watches where ihe tests are ap
plied. Thus lie was able to pawn the
watches for three times their actual
value. He disposed of about twenty
of these watches in the North End,—
[Boston Transcript.
POISONED ARROWS
Extraordinary Methods for Mak*
ing Weapons Fatal.
Poisonous Plants and Serpents
Used by Savages.
“The use of poisoned arrows is nn.
doubtedfy of very ancient origin,” said
Dr. W. J. Hoffman to a writer for the
Washington Star. “They are believed
to have been employed in Europe in
prehistoric times, and later on, ac¬
cording to Aristotle, Strabo and Pliny,
the Celts and Gauls envenomed their
shafts with tho juice of a plant of the
genus hellebore. Thd Scythians pre¬
pared arrow poisou by mixing serpent
venom with the serum of putrid blood,
and oilier instances are recorded in
classic literature of peoples about the
Black Sea aud iu Asia Minor who
practised similar arts.
“Tho Ainos of Japan prepare a
poison for spreading upon bamboo or
metal arrow points to kill game with,
a small portion of flesh about the
wound being cut out before the animal
is cooked and oaten. In Java, Borneo,
Now Guinea and others of the East
India Islands the same practice obtains
to a considerable extent. The poison¬
ing of arrows prevails extensively in
Africa, particularly on the west coast,
la the Gaboon, among the Somali and
with the Bushmen. By the Bushmen
the juicoof a plant is used, mixed with
tho pulp of a venomous worm.
“The best known and most active
of arrow poisons is the woorarn or
‘urari’ of South America. It is chiefly
used for the tips of darts blown from
tho blow gun, and tho most important
ingredient is tho juice of tho plant
from which Btrychnino is obtained, to
which is added certain other vegetable
elements and serpent venom. In Cen¬
tral America poisons are also employed
on arrows and blow-gun darts. The
Caribs employed, similarly, a poison
made from the sap of a tree callod tho
■nianccnilles.’ Tho antidote was the
application to the wound of what wo
know as ‘arrow-root.’
“Tho Sens of northwestern Mex¬
ico prepared poison by putting into
Ihe ground a cow’s liver, rattlesnakes,
scorpions, centipedes and other un¬
pleasant things and beating them with
a slick. Into tho mixture the arrow
points were dipped. The Apaches
and neighboring tribes were until re¬
cently in the habit of smearing upon
their arrows a composition said to con¬
sist of decomposed deer’s liver and
rattlesnake venom. In some circum¬
stances crushed red ants are
also reported to have boen
used. A microscopic examina¬
tion of such a coating upon arrows
obtained from Apaches in 1871
showed the presence of blood and a
crystalline substance that was appar¬
ently rattlesnake venom. The venom
of sorpents retains its poisonous prop¬
erties when dried indefinitely. One
instance of poisoning by such an ar¬
row mentioned to me was that of a
man whose wound y^as a mere scratch
on the shoulder blade, but previous to
death, which ensued, the flesh of the
man’s back fell off, exposing the ribs
aud spine in several places.
' “The Shoshoni and Bannack Indians
state that the proper way to poison
arrows, as formerly practiced by them,
is to secure a deer and cause it to be
bitten by a rattlesnake, immediately
after which the victim is killed, and
the meat removed and placed in a hole
in the ground. When the mass has
become putrid (he arrow points are
dipped iu it. The Clallams of Puget
sound used to make arrow points of
copper, which were afterward
dipped in sea water and per.
mitted to corrode. I have never
met an Indian who would admit the
use of poisoned arrows in warfare
against man. In nearly all instances
when poisons are prepared by Indians
the operation is performed with more
or less ceremony, chanting and incan¬
tation, for the purpose of invoking
evil spirits or demons. In their belief
the effects of poison are dne wholly to
the presence iu them of malevolent
spirits or demons, which enter the
body of the victim and destroy life.’’
Mr. Henley, aged 95, finished an un¬
interrupted life of pauperism in the
Gosport (Eng.) workhouse. He was
brought there when 6 years old in
1801.
Vol. XL New Series. NO. 12.
The Finding of a Horseshoe.
Sailors are, for the most part, care¬
ful to have a horseshoe nailed to th
mizzenmast, or somwliero on the deck
near ’midships, for the protection of
the vessel.
The Chinese have their tombs built
in the shape of the horseshoe, which
custom is very curious, as it may be
fairly regarded as a branch of super¬
stition long prevalent among our¬
selves.
The principal gatoway at Allahabad
is thickly studded witli horseshoes of
every size and mako. There are hun¬
dreds of them nailed all over the great
gates, doubtless the ottering of many
a wayfarer who has long sinco finished
his earthly pilgrimage. The sacred
gates of Somnath, in the fort of Agra,
are similarly adorned. Tho practice
reminds us of the old manorial rite at
Oakham, in Rutlandshire, England,
where every peer of the realm is
bound, tho first time he enters the
town, 1 1 present a horseshoe to be
nailed on (lie old portal, which is well
nigh covered with those tributes. It
is said that, in case any contumacious
peer should refuse to pay this tax, the
authorities have a right to stop his car¬
riage and levy blackmail by unshoeing
one of the horses. To avert so serious
an annoyance, the tribute shoe is gen¬
erally ready, some being of enormous
size, and inscribed with the namo of
the donor.
Whether these Eastern horseshoes
were taxes or offerings cannot be told,
but it oertainiy is very curious to ob
serve liow widespread is tho superstb
tion.—[New York Ledger.
A Most Extraordinary Mammal.
Tho platypus, a small, molelike
beast of Australia, has been voted the
palm for being (he most extraordinary
mammal in the known world. For
tho last twenty years its skin has been
highly prizod as an article of com¬
merce, yet during all of that time sci¬
entists have been trying to settle tho
question whether it is born alive or
hatched from an egg. Mr. Caldwell
wns sent out to Australia by the Brit¬
ish Association for the express pur¬
pose of studying the life history of
this wonderful creature, and was
finally rewarded by tho discovery of
the eggs and nest of this contradiction
of nature. Tho body of the platypus
resembles that of the mole, and is
covered with a close, short, grayish
brown fur. Liko tho beaver, its tail
is broad and flattened. A horny ex
tension of the jaws form a beak liko
that of a duck, their margins being
sheathed with horns and supplied with
transverse horny plates, two in each
jaw, but tbeso are not true teeth. The
toes are united by a membrane or
web, so the animal is enabled to swim
with great ease. It inhabits small
streams and ponds, living principally,
if not wliolly, on insects. When the
young are hatched they are blind and
quite naked. The method by which
they obtain milk from the mother is
still obscure. The beak of the young
is wholly unlike tliat of an adult. It
cost the British Association over
$10,000 to ascertain tho above facts.-—
[Chicago Herald.
Sand on the Colombia River.
Sandstorms along the Upper Co¬
lumbia River havo long been a great
source of annoyance and expense to
the company operating the railroad
through that section, trains frequently
being delayed a day or more at a
time from sand blown on the track.
Heretofore no systematic effort has
been made to get rid of the sand. A
large gang of Chinese has boen em¬
ployed for years at an expense of
about $18,000 a year, to simply shovel
sand off the (rack, and pile it np on
the other side in a most convenient
place for being blown hack again. In
some places the sand was from eight- ‘
een to twenty feet high on each side
of the track, the accumulation of
years, and much of it has boen shov¬
eled over hundreds of times.
A scheme has been adopted for the
removal of the sand by sluicing it
into the river by means of water sup¬
plied by a force pump on the river,
near which the road runs for a long
distance. The scheme bids fair to
prove a great success, as with a com¬
paratively small pump the sand is
washed into the river for four cents a
cubic yard, and a. larger ptirap is
being sent to the front, by which it is
expected 'that the sand can be moved
for three cents a yard.—[Pacific Lum¬
berman.
The Man Who Cannot Laugh.
There are some individuals we really can’t
adore,
And the chiefest of the number is the very
trying bore,
Who when you’re feeling jolly and a bit ol
fun would poke,
Will never see the point until you diagram
your joke. »
His eye assumes a vacant stare until he
thinks awhile
With great deliberation, then he dons a
faded smile.
0, it would be a pleasure just to write the
epitaph
And hide away the presence of tbe man who
cannot laugh.
now like a biting frost that chills the roses
in their bloom
Arc sombre individuals who wear a cloak
of gloom;
Who cannot comprehend the worth of just a
spark of fun,
Who shrink from joy and pleasure as the
bats avoid the sun.
The deeper sober thought within the heart
should have a place,
But let glad laughter now and then the
cares of life erase;
Away with him who cannot sift the kern
from the chaff!
The world could wag along without the
who cannot laugh.
HUMOROUS. C
It lacks point—A circle.
Tho mane part of a horse is the back
of its neck.
It is tho bath attendant who sponges
his way through life.
An echo is like a woman, always de¬
termined to have tho last word.
California pedestrians are all right
when they strike the Golden Gait.
“I’ve gone through a great deal,"
remarked the saw as it emerged from
the log.
“Thank fortune,” as the man said
when liis money opened to him the
doors of society.
Specialist—A man who charges you
twenty-five dollars for wlia» .mother
charges five dollars.
In a Sad Plight.—Belated passenger
—When docs the next train go?
.
Ticket agent—It’s just gone.
If you want to keep your friend do
not toll him disagreeable truths about
himself or flattering ones about your¬
self.
Littleshort—Ah, Mr. Cutaway, how
d’do? What’s the condition of trade
this season? Cutaway (briefly)—
Cash.
When there is no hawk flying
around the biggest thing in the barn¬
yard is tho strut of the smallest
rooster.
Young lady (to young man who
kissed her)—That’s very singular, sir.
Young Man—Ah, well, allow me to
make it plural?
“Why do you object to German
opera? It is full of vigor; it bracei
me right up.” “That’s my objection
to it; it is Teutonic.”
“Anything now on foot?” asked
one politician of another. “Yes,”
was tho reply. “What is it?” “Our
baby. He’s just learned to walk.”
There is constant complaint of the
lack of morals in politics. There is
no place yet discovered, even out of
politics, where there is an oversupply.
Somehow a handsome diamond
never looks quite so desirable to a
woman at any other time as it does
when sho Bees it in another woman’!
ring.
Canvasser—Can I see the good man
of the house, madame? Mrs. Nag¬
gers—No, you can’t. There isn’t any
good man in the house. There’s only
my husband.
Tramp—I don’t hardly know what
to do with this piece o’ steak now I’v*
got it. Landlady—For goodness
sake! Why don’t you eat it? Tramp—
I’ve tried that.
A story at hand, describing a love
scene between the hero and heroine,
says: “Ho wooed her with a will."
That’s a good way, especially if the
wooer is old and the will is in hei
favor.
* He Explained Promptly.—Young
Mr Dedbroke—I want to many youi
daughter. Old Man Surplus—What
for? Dedbroke--Well, I don’t know
'exactly, but I hope it’s not for less
than a hundred thousand.
“I tell you,” said one man tc
another, “the situation in that district
isjsomothing to raise your hair when
you contemplate it.” “I think," said
the listener, os lie took off Ms hat and
disclosed a bald head, “that I’ll go out
and tako a look at it."
.
