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^ 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