Newspaper Page Text
^ ttoWERs feuicipj
VOL. V.
J. EL & w B. SEALS.}
ATLANTA
NOVEMBER 1st, 1879. Terms in advance:{ silfg^co^ No. 225.
As a river from its source,
Rushes onward in its course,
Til! it mingles with the sea,
Emblem of eternity;
So our life, a transient Uream.
Onward flows a running stream,
From the moment of our birth,
Till we pass away from earth.
First it seems a shallow brook,
Small and narrow to the look,
Next a rivulet it flows,
'Vhile its current swifter grows;
Then, a broad, impetuous tide,
Flood majestic, deep and wide,
Rolling to the ocean vast,
Where it disappears at last.
Thus an infant first in age.
Soon we pa>s through childhood’s stage,
Next in youth ourpart we play,
Season joyous, bright and gay:
Then we enter manhood's prime,
Life s laborious summer time,
Autumn comes, old age serene.
Death, like Winter, ends the scene.
Il.it, as with reviving Spring,
Birds their merry carols sing.
Nature from the sleep of death.
Wakes again with vital breath;
So tlic sons of God shall rise,
Live immortal in the skies,
J n a fair and blissful ciime,
Taste of endless joys sublime.
INEZ LANIER;
—on
The Gamblers Last Stake.
Beautiful Inez Lanier; she was famed for
her loveliness even in that city of fair women,
Mew Orleans. She lived in the old French quarter I
of the City in a quaint cottage over-run with vinef,
with pigeons cooing on the roof, fragrant jessamine
vines at the lattice, beds of pinks and rose- in the ;
front yard, and in the back yard three splendid old
orang» trees—great broad-limbed trees that every
spric^ w»r« 1 ru^r.u 1 -..u, Ll.—oiTin- ami rtcij *«ili-
ter were hung with golden fruit. Here Inez lived j
with her old grandmother and two faithful servants :
who did all the needed work, so that the pretty
hands of the dainty beauty could be kept wi t and
soft as her grandmother loved to see them. Her
feet were as exquisite in shape as her hands, an i ’
nothing cou'd exceed their beauty when they twin
kled in the gay Spanish dances at the fetes that
Inez sometimes attended. She was then always
surrounded with partners and admirers Her pe
tite iigure, her large, dark eyes, olive skin and
carnation cheeks, her graceful movements and
silve voice turned more than one head.
One of her admirers was more ardent than the
rest. He was Pedro Gonzalis—a young Castilian
of good but decayed family and dissipated habits.
Handsome, graceful, dashing, young Gonzalis al- .
ways made a brilliant appearance in society, though
none knew whence he drew his income, his fath
er having died a bankrupt years before. Pedro
then went to Cuba and remained some years; when
he returned Inez was j ist in the first flush of her i
beautiful young girlhood. They met at a ball: they
were the best waltzers and the handsomest couple
in the room. After that she went to ride with him
behind his splendid Andalusian ponies; she let him
come to hear her sing; she even accepted a ring
from him, a costly opal that shone with changeful
lustre like his magnetic eyes. Vet she did not love
him. Her heart was given to another, who had on
ly to sj teak to receive the assurance of her love.
Eugene Walters was waiting until he was sure of a
competence, before he asked this dainty creature to
be his wife. Though he loved her dearly, he would
not ask her to share his struggling fortunes. At;
last he was successful: he was taken into partner
ship by his firm, and with his savings lie bought a
little home and lifted it up for Inez. He feared lest
lie was too late in speaking. He had s'-en the
handsome Spaniard often by her side. Gonzdis
was such a man asa woman would go wild over ;had
Inez yiehl -d him the heart he so long had hoped
would be his reward?
He sought her at once. She was in tier pretty 1
cosy parlor, sitting in the bay window surrounded
by flowering plants and shone upon by tbe mellow
moonlight. And by her side was Pedro Gonzalis.
Eugene’s hopes sank, but as Inez rose and came to
meet him, standing an instant with outstretched
hand under the c.iandelier, he saw the pink deepen
in her soft cheek and her eye brighten as she said:
‘1 am glad to see you have not forgotten us. It has
been long since you honored Myrtle Cottage with;
your presence.’
‘My heart has be-n here all the while,’ he ventured
to whisper, as he bent low over her little hand. He
saw her color rise higher at the murmured words,
while Pedro’s black brows met in a heavy scowl.
They tried to stay each other out that night-—
these two rivals for the love of one fair girl. As the
time passed, the {Spaniard’s face betrayed his sup
pressed rage and im atience; he bit bis mustached
lip, his eyes darted fiery dances at Eugene; at last
he could no longer remain quiet and lie rose ab
ruptly. bowed to Inez and saying, ‘I shall see you
again,’ quitted tiie room.
Then his calmer but not less determined rival
found opiwrtuuity to ak the words that filled his
heart. Siting there in the low bow window, open
except for its screen of vines to the blooming flower
beds and shrubbery without, Eugene told the story
of his hopes and fears, and receii ed at last the hap
py assurance he pleaded for. She had loved him
all the while and had accepted the attentions of
Gonzalis, only because it diverted her mind from
the restless anxiety of a love unassured of return.
Vow, she would receive him no more: she confessed
to herself a feeling of remorse for having so long
allured him to believe that bis companionship was
so pleasant. I
‘Yes, I was wrong,’ she murmured, leaning upon
the window when Eugene was gone, that the night
air might cool her burning cheeks, ‘but I will make
amends in the future. 1 will devote myself only
to Eugene, and Pedro must know he can only be a
friend.’
‘Friend’.’ hissed a low voice among the flowering
plant s outside, that crowded close to t he low win
dow. ‘Friend! did you say fair lady?’ and Pedro’s
eyes blazed close to hers; his hot breath touched her
cheek as he went on. ‘Friend it will never be; hit
ter enemy rather of you and him. You have trifled
with me; he has triumphed over me. 1 will be r e
venged on you both.’
i4gfh
*■ Will i
HE SPRANG. UPON HIM WITH KITH FORCE AS TO nl'RL HIM 1
Hemmed off, his heel crunched the <rr«.™n S' *— “<$( jfr*/.. -
in 1 she was left trembling v. an ror/'fiouing ter: • •*-«- not hit-' . !-•<• to siake. /,« t>; If..vr
.pa tt H f «h'> dared r..it tell T,' Eugene, tor nwjf 'Pedro's bine, eyes glittero.JLj y-j tserpent:
"‘tout to strike an he ■••ant'd o\ e.’V' - Ipereci
ie desperate man. ‘Yes you '•j'' - xVatake
aining—one that I am willing to’ Ai'all my w
TO THE FLUOR.
neaiv, accused her of Coquetry.
As time wore on. she forgot her fears in prepara
tions for her bridal. She saw no more of Pedro; it
was said he had returned to Cuba, and she even
thought of hini with a kind of tender pi.v as wo
men will regard their rejected lovers. One day,
not long before the we iding, lie returned. He came
to see her driving Eugene behind his lithe Andalus
ians. There was some embarrassment at first, but
Pedro was all frankness and cordiality, and soon
they chatted pleasantly, and the young Spaniard
received and accepted an invitation to the wedding
of the lady he had once loved so madly. He came,
as he promised. He sat in a corner watching her
as she stood before the priest, so peerlessly beauti
ful in her gossamer white robes with snowy buds
from the old orange trees, twined in her rippling
dark hair. No one noticed the basilisk look in his
eyes as they rested upon the bridal pair, and, when
the ceremony was over, he came forward with his
graceful congratulations.
‘I own this is hard to see,’ he said half laughing
as lie grasped Eugene’s hand, ‘bu you have won
her fairly, and you are worthier of her than a wild
chap like me. You two \ ill have the happiest lit
tle home in the city, and 1 trust you will sometimes
let a poor fellow less lucky, peep in at your enjoy
ment. 1 have not ventured to put my humble
present among the bride's rich gifts yonder ; but I
trust she will not refuse this little toke i of my
high esteem.’
As he spoke, he flung over the w hite neck of
the
maining—one that 1 am willing tot AT all my
nings against.’
‘ tt’hat is it—what do you mean:’ demanded Eu
gene.
‘Think awhile first. Remember you have lost
all. you are penniless, without house or home for
your dainty, delicately nurtured wife.’
‘I know, I know ; what is the stake ? don't tor
ture me. You offer to risk against it, all you have
won from me.’
‘And this five thousand in gold besides,’ said
Gonzalis, dashing a hag of Spanish doubloons on
the table.
‘But the stake—what is it ?’
•It is only—that little key you have in your breast
pocket.’
‘This key—’ Eugene said, taking out the key and
looking at it bewildered. ‘What can you wan* with
that ? It is tiie key to my private apartment ’
‘To your w ife's chamber. I know it, and I offer
to risk against it all niv winnings from you and
this gold beside. Do you understand ?’
‘Yes, villain !’ cried Walters, '1 understand you
at last. I comprehend all your black plan, and
th is is my answer. ’
As he spoke he drew e pistol from his pocket and
sprung upon him, with such force and suddenness
as to hurl him to the floor and prevent his using tiie
pistol which he (Pedro) had also drawn.
Ti e noise drew several men from the adjoining
Ineza beautiful chain of fa'ry-like workmanship, j room, who rushed in in time to prevent the killing
and laid in her hand an exqui-ite enameled watch. I of the Spaniard by the indignant and desperate
She did not refuse the gift. Both she and her bus- 1 husband of Inez. A number of die had fallen up-
band were pleased with ihe frank cordiality of the
winning Castilian, an i felt* for him a sentiment of
pity. He was alone—an orphan, and had few
friends. Evil whispers were about him and his
haughty manner to most people only made his
friendship more prized by Eugene, lie was cordi
ally invited to visi:, at the happy and pretty home
of the newly wedded pair. At first, he did not
avail himself of this iuvi'ation, but when tlie tide
of congratulatory visits had ceased, he came with
his winning ways, his enti Gaining talk and fund of
anecdote. Pleasant and friendly with Inez, he yet
seemed to attach himself more particularly to hei
husband, and they soon became inseparable com
panions after business hours. Young, inexperi
enced and unsuspicious. Inez did not perceive
what an influence for evil this man was gaining
over her husband. She thought it was natural he
should not stay so closely at home in tlie evenings
as he bad done during the honey moon. She was
glad to see he took occasional relaxation from bus
iness; he nee .ed it, she thought, She was satisfied
when Eugene told heron his return in the evenings,
something about the club or the political meetings
up town.
Yet after a while, she could but note the change
in her husbands looks and ways. His calm, frank
eyes were clouded and anxious, his movements
were restless, he neglected his business, iie re
mained out late, his breath was often tainted with
liquor. She saw all this and was anxious and
troubled, though she did not connect this change in
Eugene witti Pedro’s influence over him. She had
no one to go to with her anxiety. Her old grand
mother was dead, and she had no relative in the
city and no intimate friend.
CHAPTER II.
It was one glorious night in September. Such a
splendid harvest moon, such a wealth of stars, such
a breadth of moonlight upon the blue waters that
embraced the crescent city ! But the habitues at
that gilded hell—a gambling saloon upon St.
Charles street, saw not and cured not for the loveli
ness of the night. Their eyes and thoughts were
absorbed in the game they played. Two especially
h .d their souls concentrated in the fateful die they
rattled and threw upon the table before them.
They sat apart in a small private room with decan
ters of wine and brandy within their reach. They
were Eugene and Pedro. For several nights in
succession, Eugene had been losing heaviiy to this
pretended friend, who had gradually and insidi
ously drawn him into the vortex of gaming. To
night, having staked and lost all the money in his
possession, he put up at last his house ana fumis
ture. These too v- ere lost, and he glared at his
triumphant opponent with desperation in his eye.
‘There is nothing more,’ he said hoarsely ‘You
on the floor from the pocket of Pedro. These were
pi ked up by an old gray beard gambler, who first
rung them down upon the table and then taking
out his sharp pocket-knife, cut first one and then
auothtr of the dice open. Imbedded in the ivory
was a leaden pellet.
‘Gonzalis is at his old game,’ said the gambler,
glancing across at tbe scowling Spaniard. ‘These
die are leaded. He has played unfairly, and what
ever he has won he fo. feits according to the rules
of the profession. He forfeits also something else
—the right to be called a gentleman.’
H’ith a deep curse, Gonzalis leaped upon the
speaker, a knife gleaming in his hand; it struck
wide of its mark and inflicted only a slight flesh
wound, but th<» keen pen-knife of the older gam
bler, which lie had thrust forward in self-defense,
found its way to tiie young Spaniard's heart, and
the gifted but misguided man fell to the floor a
corpse.
It was a bitter but most salutary lesson ta Eu
gene. He left that gambling saloon a sadder and
wiser man than he had ever been. From that time
forward, he never tint his foot upon the threshold
of a gambling saloon and never handled dice or
cards. He returned with renewed energy to busi
ness, and the shadow that, had brooded over his
home was lifted never to fall upon it again.
The Lingards. after finishing a six months’
engagement in Melbourne, Australia, have gone
to New Zealand, where they will take up their
residence for the same length of time.
Mr. Julius Magnus, once an eminent violinist
in Thomas Orchestra, then a critic, and subse
quently a successful dramatist, is now plating’
the foppish English Lord in the -Mighty Dollar.
Rose EytiDge, the youthful mother of Miss
Courtney Barnes, has high hopes of her young
daughter’s dramatic ability. The young lady is
now a member of the Union Square Company,
New York.
A musical and literary entertainment for the
benefit of the Rev. I. S Kallook, Mayor-elect of
San Francisco, California, was given on the eve
ning ot the 17th of October, at the Mstropolitan
Temple, under the auspices of the W. P. C.
At the Eleventh Street Opera House, Phila
delphia, this week, Mr. Carncross has produced
a new burlesque entitled ‘Barnnm’s Circus,’
with Mad Doctorpill, twin baby elephants and
the great wonder,blowing a man from a cannon.
rrixv i a-y v >-twi, oi. -i 0 -***.,,.
Ptlitica! Prisoner s of High Rank; immured in the
Mines.; Working Twelve Hours a Day;
No Sundays or Rest Days: Never a
Glimpse of the Sun;" Rags
and Starvation
Mr. Robert Lenike, a German writer, gives a
: tin filing description of the treatment by the Rus-
' sian Government of the political exiles in Siberia.
Mr. Lenike visited the various penal establishments
of Russia with an official legitimation. He went to
T bol.-k; from there he made a iong, dreary jour
ney in a slow car until a high, barren mountain
rose before him. In tiie craggy side of the moun
tain yawned an opening like the mouth of a burn
ed out crater. From this black mouth, issued fetid
vapors that almost took away tbe breath. Mr.
Lenike braved the foul vapors and entered the
opening in the rock. At th° mouth of it, lie found
a watch house with a picket of lounging Cossacks.
Having shown his papers of legitimation, he was
conducted by a guide through a long, very dark,
and narrow corridor, which, judging from his slop-
| ing descent, led down into some unknown depth.
! In spite of his good fur, the visitor felt extremely
cold. After a walk of some ten minutes through
: the dense obscurity, the ground becoming more
soft, a vague shimmer of light became observable,
j ‘\Ye are m the mine,’ said the guide, pointing with
| a significant gesture to the high iron cross-bars
which closed the cavern before them,
i The mas-ive bars were covered with a thick rust.
A watchman appeared, who unlocked tiie heavy
iron gate. Entering a room of considerable extent
1 but which was scarcely a man’s height, and which
i was dimly lit by an oil lamp, the visitor asked:
; ‘ H'here are we?’
I ‘In the sleeping room of the condemned! Form-
| erly it was a productive gallery of the mine: now
| it serves as a shelter ’
The visitor shuddered. This subterranean sepul
chre, lit by neither sun nor moo •, was called a
sleeping-room. Alcove-like ceils were hewed into
: the rock; here, on a couch of damp, half-rotten
straw, covered with a sackcloth, the unfortunate
sufferers were to repose from the day’s work. Over
each cell a cramp-iron was fixed, wherewith to
lock up the prisoners like ferocious dogs. No door,
no window anywhere.
Conducted through another passage, where a few
lanterns were placed, and whose end was also bar
red by an ii n gate, Mr. Lenike came to a large
vault, partly lit. This was the mine. A deafening
noise of pickaxes and ham tiers. There he saw
some hundreds of wretched figures, with shaggy
beards, sickly faces, reddened eyelids; clad in tat
ters, some of them barefoot, others in sandals, fet
tered with heavy foot-chains. No song, no whist- !
ling. Now and then they shyly looked at the visi- |
tor and his companion. The water dripped from
the stones; the tatters of the convicts were thor-
oug lly wet One of them, a tail man, of suffering j
mien, labored bard with gasping breath, but the .
strokes of his pickaxe were not heavy and firm
enough to loosen tiie rock.
‘Why are you here?’Mr. Lenike asked.
The convict looked confused, with an air almost
of consternation, and silently continued his work.
‘It is forbidden to the prisoners,' said the inspec
tor. ‘to speak of the cause of their banishment!’
Entombed alive; ferbidden to sav why!
‘But wi o is the convict?’ Mr. Lemke asked the
guide with a low voice.
‘It is Number 114!’the guide replied laconically.
‘This I see,’ answered the visitor; ‘but what are
the man’s antecedents? To wnat family does he
belong?’ , „ ,
‘He is a count,’replied the guide; a well known
conspirator. More, I regret to say, I cannot tell
you about Number 114.’
The visitor felt as if he were stiffled in the grave-
like atmosphere—as if his chest were pressed in by
a demoniacal nightmare, .He hastily asked his
guide to return with him to the upper world.
Meeting there the commander of the military es
tablishment, he was obligingly asked by that of-
™We11, what impression did our penal establish
ment make upon you?’
Mr. Lemke stiffly bowing in silence, th* officer
seemed to take this as a kind of satisfied assent,
and went on;
‘Very industrious people, the men below; are
they not?’
But with what feelings.’ Mr. Lenike answered,
'must these unfortunates look forward to the day
of rest after the weeks toil!’
‘Rest! said the officer: 'convicts must always la
bor. 1 here is no re.se for Them. They are con
demned to perpetual forced labor; and he who
once enters the mine tn-ver leaves it!’
‘But this is barbarous!’
The officer shrugged his shoulders and said:
‘The exiled work daily for twelve hours; on Sun
days too. They must never pause. But 110; I am
mistaken. Twice a year, though, rest is permitted
to them—at Easter-time, and 011 the birthday of
his Majesty the Emperor.’
i Can we wonder, when we see the ultra-Bulgarian
1 atrocities practiced in Russia, rhat ‘Terror for Ter
ror! should at last have become the parole of the
men of the Revolutionary Committee?
AMERICAN INGENUITY.
Chronological Account of Some Early In
ventions and Enterprises*
Manufacturer and Builder.
17.16—The first steam engine built, after tbe New-
comon type, for the Schuler copper mines.
177——Another similar engine, made for a factory'
in Philadelphia.
17S.»—Oliver Evans, of Philadelphia, introduced
! steam power to drive a flour mill and a brickyard.
I f 7*Sf>—James Ru nsey propel.ed a vessel on the
Potomac river by the reaction of the water,
j I7S1—Perkins invented a nail-cutting machine,
I which could make 200,000 nails per ‘ay.
- 1,8,s—John Fitch navigated the Delaware river
; with the first steamboat.
i 1 7-d—M hitney’s cotton gin invented.
! I’/'.fo — Benjamin Thompson, otherwise Count
! Rumford, discovered that there was no such tiling
I as a caloric fluid, but that heat is a peculiar mode
of motion of the material particles of bodies, and
thus laid the foundation of the modern theory of
the conservation of forces.
1 7D7—Benjamin Thompson invented a brush
making machine.
1 7q'—Amos VVhitemore introduced a machine
for making the cards used in cotton and woolen
manufacture.
179b—Robert McKean patented the first steam
saw-mill.
first'i'fiuu’liK^mb’-BV,Ffbllsdelplpp mad- the
cam.gV ’! oli. iiows,^. j ; U 1 ,' U ; IC a Steam
180I—Coi. Jotja Cox Stevens invented tiie screw
propeller, the model of which is still at the Hobo-
ben N. J. Institute for Engineers.
is, 4—Oliver Evans built a paddle wheel steamer,
to ply on the Delaware and Schuylkill rivers, driv
en by a double-acting high-pressure engine; also
adapted for land conveyance.
1506— Thomas Blanchard, of Masachussetts, in
vented a tack-making machine, which made 30,000
tacks per hour.
1507— Thomas Blanchard made an apparatus
adapted for rifling gun barrels.
IS07—Robert Fulton traveled with his first steam
boat from New York to Albany.
INO7— Oil-cloth for floor carpeting first made in
Philadelphia.
IS07—John Bedford invented and manufactured
metal bound boots and shoes.
is 11- John H. Hall, of Massachusetts, invented
breech-loading muskets.
1512— George Shoemaker sold in Philadelphia
several truck-loads of anthracite coal for fuel, and
was imprisoned as an impostor for selling stones for
coal.
1513— Francis C. Lowell made important im
provements in the power loom.
IS 17—George Glymer produced the first American
made printing press.
IN1S—Jacob Perkms introduced steel engraving
as a substitute for copper.
I81U—The Savannah made the first passage across
the Atlantic ocean by steam power driving paddle-
wheels.
I820—Henry Burden, of Troy, N. Y., invented
the cultivator.
1S2I—Tiie -ame invented improved rolling-mills.
IS2I—Jordan L. Mott invented utilization of
small coal for furnaces.
—James McDonald, of New York, invented
machiiur/ for cleaning flax and hemp.
1823— Jos. Saxton invented a wheel-cutting en
gine, producing epicycloidal teeth.
1824— Ladoc Pratt established His celebrated tan
neries in the Catskills, New Yo k State.
tS‘J4—Completion of the Erie canal, connecting
the large lakes with the Hudson river.
IS26—Harrison A. Dyar established the first tele
graph line on Long Island, making signals with
frictional electricity.
1827- John McClinter, of Pennsylvania, invented
the slotting and shaping machine.
1S28—First American patent for improvements in
locomotives granted.
ISriS—First locomotive journey made on the
Honesdale and Carbondale railway, Pennsylvania.
1S2S—Hay and straw used for the first time to
make paper.
1825— James Bogardus invented tiie ring flyer
for spinning cotton.
1829—The same invented mills with eccentric
grinding surfaces.
1831—Redfield published his book on the theories
of storms.
1S32—Janies Bogardus invented a dry gas meter.
18:4—Henry Burden invented his nail-making
machines.
1836—James Bogardus invented a pantograph.
1840 -Tiie same invented the molds to press glass
in while blowing.
1S41—The same made improvements in drilling
machinery.
Since then inventions and patents have succeeded
one another at a most astonishing rate.
A London society paper ‘protests most em
phatically against any artist on the stage delib
erately, or in any other way reoognizing, even
with the prettiest and most ooqnettish of smiles
any person whatever beyond the footlights. It
is bad art, bad acting, bad form—very gratify
ing, doubtless, to the recipient in the stalls, but
peculiarly irritating to those who dislike snch
gross violations of all <iramatic art and tradition
If this goes on, wesbatl have handshaking across
tbe orchestra.
;sae