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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." .