Newspaper Page Text
I
VOL XII.
J. H. & W, B. SEALS}«ioraum>B8.
ATLANTA, 6A„ JUNE 12, 1886.
Terms in Advance}to?ol*uop%.
NO. 555,
RING OUT!_RING OUT!
Affectionately Dedicated to the Presi
dent of the U. S., Grover Cleveland.
BY MISS MARY A. H. GAY.
King out! ring out, ye wedding bells!
A nation lists to near your strains
For he who In our White House dwells
Is captive, bound by Hymen’s chains.
King out! ring out, ye wedding bells!
For he who holds a nation’s reins
Is suppliant now to Venus’ charms,
Is Cupid’s slave, or such be feigns.
King out! ring out, ye wedding bells!
“Over the hills and valleys ring;”
A wonderful tale ye have to tell
Of maiden fair and golden ring.
O! tinkle, tinkle, wedding bells!
Ye merry elfins dance around,
For he who In our White House dwells
Is prostrate now, by Venus bound.
O! tinkle, tinkle, wedding bells!
Ye tell how woman famous came;
’Twas he who wrought the ’mantine chain
That binds this man of White HuNM fame.
Klngoutl ring out, great marriage bell!
Comes from afar the maiden fair
To loose the chain which bound him well.
O! maiden with the soft brown hair!
King out! ring out, ye marriage bells!
No longer suppliant, he stands
Honored, honoring the girl so fair
Whose heart was his midst varying lands.
King out I ring out, ye marriage bells!
Two hearts are blended into cne!
King out! ring out, ye marriage bells!
Doubts and fears forever gone.
King loud! ring loud, ye marriage bells,
And wake the maids of Vesta’s train;
Flora, Pomona. In fragrant dells.
And Ceres midst ripening grain.
Bring from the “fields of living green,”
Delicious fruits and flowers rare,
And call our man and sweet young queen
To feast upon ambrosial fare.
Ring loud! ring loud, O! marriage bells!
Wake all the joys of £aster-tide
For him who In the White House dwells
And for his pretty, dark-eyed bride.
Decatur, Ga., June 2, 1886.
SWEET GICILY.
BY QUIEN SABE.
I was utterly astonished when Cecilia came to
me and said, a pretty flush on her cheeks:
“I have promised to marry Mr. Igon, Hulda.”
1 stared aghast at my sister.
“Is It, then, so queer that I should at last
love?” she smiled.
“My dear,” I gasped, “do you realize what
you are saying? Do you know what you are
doing?”
“Surely, Hulda, a woman of thirty knows her
own mind,” she laughed; and In laughing looked
bo very young and pretty that it was with diffi
culty that I, her elder sister, realized that Ce
cilia was thirty.
“Cecil,” I said solemnly, “Is it possible that
this fatal madness has seized you, too, and at
this age? You who laughed to scorn the Idea of
love, lovers and husbands at that age when girls
dream of such things and build fair, fine houses
In the clouds to people them with their dream
husbands and children? You who declared that
If that Insatiable ambition, which bad long been
nurtured by girlish successes, could only find an
avenue in which to go upward and attain its end
that you desired no love, no home, no husband,
no children? You ‘preferred a dreary heart to
a desort soul.’ You would starve your heart to
gratify your ambition. Now tuat Ure world has
begun to applaud you; now that your ascent up
ward Is steady and assured; now that you are
beginning to pluck the weil-earned bays, will
you lay it all down at the bidding of a man who
pronounces the word love?”
She turned upon me, her lovely, dusky eyes
ablaze with a divine light, her face transfigured
from its usual cold repose to a passionate glow,
her white bands caught together.
I knew at last that my calm, ambitious Cecil
*vi<d been stricken with the madness; and know
ing her disposition, I shuddered as I thought of
the attendant consequences if this man, upon
whom she had bestowed all the passionate fra
grance of her late bloomiug affection, was un
worthy of it.
“You know so little of Mr. Igon, dear,” I said,
as she continued to stand before me.
“I know, Hulda, that few men attain even near
perfection; but I feel that he is better, nobler,
grander than all others.”
“He strikes me as being unusually suspicious
and distrustful; and I am sure, Cecil, that be
will be Insanely jealous.”
“Not of me!” in quiet scorn. “No one can
say that I ever loveu before; no one can say
that 1 ever permitted another man’s caressek;
no one can say—”
“You dear, Innocent baby!” I interrupted im
patiently; “the world don’t care a fig for evi
dence—not even circumstantial evidence. It is
the judge, jury, witness and hangman, if a
man nas a tendency toward jealousy, there are
always people enough to Incite this tendency to
action. Mark my word, that boy and girl friend
ship between you and Jack Derwent will throw
your lover into paroxysms oi jealousy.”
Cecilia laughed, laughed contentedly, saying:
“You dear old croaker! You don’t like men.”
No, I did not like men. I had lived just thir
ty-seven years, and In all that time 1 had never
seen one man whom I could consider made in
the Image of God, unless it be a travest.e. My
father had lived long enough for me to have an
insight Into the thorough selfishness of men.
My uncles were objects of supreme contempt to
me, for they were uke all the rest of men with
which this world Is peopled—good and pleasant
for a put pose, selfish and tyrannical when they
could be.
My girl friends had married, and the most of
*® re . a down trodden set, with cares double
the amount of their endurance, and as little
sympathy in their home lives as is usual with
women, some of these friends were dead, and
p f nt v , up {* ad been their lives
,oed when ,re e<ioin came to them.
lv^r^ure W «^n m hL? ne loved one ’ “Y one earth-
iy treasure stood before me, gifted hpauMfui
good, my heart rebelled that she should oa«
into the keeping of a man who from his face I
knew would alternately pet and tyraTize over
I asked,* grimly P6t affibit,on > sweet CIcily?”
“1 have worked because I loved the work ”
written
L6i{u l say;
“ 1 “My father!”—thou hast knowledge,only thou
How dreary ’tis for women to sit still ’
On winter nights by solitary fires.
And hear the nations praising them far off
Too far! ay, praising our quick sense of love’
Our very heart of passionate womanhood ’
Which could not beat so in the verse without
Being pressed also in the unkissed lips
And eyes undried because there’s none to ask
The reason they grew moist.’
Why, Hulda, I would rather have one small i
word of commendation from him than all the
applause the world could clap me. My ambition
Is uis, for bis use, his purposes, his ends—I give
It all to him.” .
Tears dimmed my eyes as I watched her join
her lover. It may have been that my fondness
for and pride in Cecil prejudiced me against the
man. I acknowledged that be was handsome,
but what was that, I bad seen handsome horses.
I admitted that he had a pleasant address, but
even the most uncouth country swain is pleas
ant to bis lass and all her relatives. He took
sole possession of Cecil, hitherto my sweet Cic-
ily. He read the sweet verses as they came
from her pen, criticised and condemned them.
My darling’s sweet face began to wear a grave
and frequently worried look. One morning as
I sat at my easel trying to make a fox look less
like a human being and more like a fox, 1 heard
Cecil say:
“You dear tyrant.”
My heart leaped in tumultous anger for I felt
that this was the beginning of the end of her
care free life. Knowing her so well I knew
that with all her love for him, all her tender
ness, her self-abenegation that she had a pride
that would never bend in some things. 1 knew
if he opposed his jealousy and distrust to this
pride that a rupture between them was inevita
ble, even though It broke her heart, and 1 did not
doubt it would.
One afternoon as I sat touching up the sieDna
sides of Monsieur Benard, Cicilla came to me.
Glancing up I saw that her face was troubled
and her manner preoccupied. Laying aside my
brushes and pailette I arose, taking her in my
arms I asked:
“What troubles my darling?”
“Not very much,” sighipg.
“‘Not very much: only a broken heart, mi
lord’,” I quoted. “Sweet Ciclly (giving her my
old pet name for her) why don’t you let that
man go and come back to the old calm, pure life,
free from petty jealousy and distrusts? My
dear, it were better for you.”
“But he has taught me to love him, Hulda,”
she said, underbreath, “and I take no heart in
the old life; I can never go back to it. It has
fled from me; I am dead to It.”
“Would you go back if you could?” I asked,
eagerly. ’
She hesitated a moment, then replied:
“No, Hulda, I would not.”
I marveled then, I marvel now, at the love
that this gifted woman gave that man. Our
friends congratulated me upon the engagement
between these two, but I who saw no happiness
in the future for Cecil, stoically accepted these
short-sighted congratulations. I began to study
the character of my sister’s lover, and instead
of being different from all other men, I found
him exactly like all the rest—selfish, bigoted,
domineering when he could be, with a trifle
more of jealousy in his organization than some
of his brothers. Other people admired him, but
to me he was like all the rest.
“Cecilia, what is it that annoys you? Once on
& tlki« you told iAc ail yodi g? eta, wh.vt Is SM»
one?”
“It is not much, Hulda, only—only—some one
has told Mr. Igon about Jack Derwent, and he
is ”
“Jealous, of course,” I said, contemptuously.
“Some one has saM that love and jealousy are
twin sisters, but in my opinion love originated
in Heaven, jealously in Hades. But, dear, there
was nothing between you and Jack.”
“Nothing; but so many people have told him
the ‘true version’ of it until I am tired of ex
plaining the matter.”
So the days wore on, Cecil let her pen lay
idle, lost her ambition; her interest in life. Our
little village seemed seized with that dread in
fliction cacoethee loquendl. Jack Derwent, a
staid bachelor who nad spent the last twelve
years in loving Cecila without hope, took It into
his head to go West. He came to bid us good
bye, and 1 left him alone with Cecil. He said
good-bye and turned to go, when suddenly he
caught her in his arms, and before she could
expostulate or remove herself from his arms, he
bad kissed the sofr. waves of brown hair lying on
tbe'left temple.
Mr. Igon, who had come in unseen, witnessed
it, and without pausing for an explanation,
turned and went away, only stopping to say as
he passed me In the hall:
“Tell Miss Cecilia I saw all.”
He came no more, neither did he write, and
my child’s heart was broken. She went back to
her pen, but the music in her soul was forever
stilled, and her ambition was dead.
I heard her murmur, one morning, as she
drooped her flower-like face over her MSS.
“ ‘We walked too straight for fortune’s end,
We loved too true to keep a friend,
And so we’re tired, my Heart and I.’ ”
“You have fever, sweet Cicely,” I said, pass
ing my hand over her hot brow.
She looked up with a smile sadder than the
wildest burst of weeping, and said:
“It does not matter.”
For days after I battled with death over her.
not caring much if death was victor; for I felt
that it would be a relief for her if she could slip
the knots of life and go away. When all was
over I wrote a hurried note to Mr. Igon, who
bad just returned from an extended tour, with
the request that he would call at once.
I took him into the little sanctum where my
darling bad made the world weep and laugh
with her pen, from where she had joyously lis
tened to the outburst of enthusiastic applause,
and where the June roses now babbled of her
sweet presence. There I told him of Jack Der
went (for I was determined that he should know
the truth which Cecilia had been too proud to
write him), how we had-having no father nor
brothers to advise us—gone to him seeking ad
vice. I related it all, even to that last scene
with Jack, where—without any volition on her
part—she had been made the unwilling recipi
ent of his caress. Should she be condemned for
this? Did it stamp her as either untrue or
You robbed her of her care free life; you curs
ed her with your love; you stole from her her am
bition ; you ruined her with your jealousy; you
made life hideous to her.. What gave you in re
turn for the truth, purity, and love she bestowed
upon you? Only a love that was to her as the
ashen Osher apples, dust and bitterness to the
taste; only a draught of the Bahr Sbeitln that
scorched her dewy lips. May God forgive you,
I never will.”
“May I see her?” he asked, his face white,
1 will ”
“Come!” I said, for it dawned upon me that
he was unconscious that she was beyond the
reach of hts poisonous love.
I led the way into the cool, dark parlor where
annunciation lilies gleamed like stars in the
gloom, where the crimson hearted roses burned
their incense, where jasmine and heliotrope
scented the air. In the centre of the room,
robed in white, with meekly folded bands over
the true heart that de^th bad happily stilled,
with the beautiful colorless face hrlf-smiling,
lay my Sweet Cicily.
PRIVATE DETECTIVES.
How the Vanderbilts, Astors and Jay
Gouio are Frotected Against Cranks.
[N. Y. Letter in Indianoplls Journal.]
The arrest of a Japanese young man who im
agined that the daughter of the late William I?.
Vanderbilt was his sweetheart, and wildly
sought her throughout bis boarding-house, leads
to the discovery that the residences of the Van-
d»rNlt’,v. the Astra* and Jay Gould. _*re. oe»-.
stantly guarded against cranks by private dw-‘
tectives. Mobotes Goto, the Japanese In the.
present case, has been a student here lor two
years. He was rich and cultured. Gentlemen
of Japan are under no ban in New York, and he
had met some of the Vanderbilt’s in society,
though his acquaintance with them was slight.
He was an attendant on religious services and
lectures of the Young Men’s Christian Associa"
tion, and in that w«l” knew Cornelius Vander.
bilt, who is actively Interested in that field of
philanthropy. There is no unmarried daughter
of the late millionaaire, and the lady whom be
insanely regarded as his sweetheart is the wife
of Seward Webb, who has not so much as a nod
ding knowledge of him. Before bis mania -ren
dered him a nuisance in his boarding-house, he
was three times ejected from the reception room
of Mrs. William H. Vanderbilt's mansion, where
Facts to be Remembered.
A pace is three feet.
A span is 10K inches.
One fathom is six feet.
A palm is three inches.
One mile is 1760 yards in length.
A storm moves thirty-six miles per hour.
Sound moves 1118 feet per second.
One square mile contains 6(0 acres.
One acre contains 4840 square yards.
Slow rivers flow lour miles per hour.
One barrel of flour weighs 196 pounds.
One barrel of pork weighs 200 pounds.
A hurricane moves eighty miles per hour.
Light moves 186,000 miles per second.
A band (horse measure) is four inches.
Rapid rivers flow seven miles per hour.
Moderate winds blow seven miles per hour.
Two hundred and nine feet on a side make
square acre within an inch.
he went to seek the object of his passion, on
each occasion he brought tokens of affection in
the shape of rare Japanese ceramics. Twice he
sent up his card, and the first lime was seen by
Webb, who promptly turned him out. On the
second call he departed at the bidding of a ser
vant, who had been ordered to eject him if he
came again. His third effort was frustrated by
a detective, who Intercepted him at the doorstep
and drove him off.
The private service for the protection of the
Vanderbilt’,s Astors and Gould, was organized
three years ago, aud is ostensibly separate for
each family, though the men who defend the
Vanderbilt’s and Astor’s are provided by the
same establishment and practically work to
gether. Regular patrol duty is done night and
day, and twenty detectives are exclusively em
ployed for the purpose. There are four Astor
residences and five belonging to the Vander
bilt’s, all in or close to Fifth avenue, between
Thirty-third and Fifty-second streets. The
spies are on duty eight hours each per day, and
the beats are so arranged that the nine houses
cannot be approached unseen by one or more of
the guardsmen. William H. Vanderbilt was the
originator of this system, and he was incited to
it by the large number of cranky letters he re
ceived. He professed to have no fear of ration
al evil doers, but was apprehensive that mani
acs might attack him or some member of h1s
family. Since his death the mails have been
laden with all sorts of appeals, demands and
threats directed to bis sons.
Jay Gould’s self-protection is more secret and
characteristic. He does not intrust it to a de
tective agency, but hires his own body-guard.
For years he has always been accompanied by
a stalwart young fellow. But that is a safeguard
against Wall street enemies. Cranks who might
cut up capers in or around his home are under
the view of spies whose quarters are in a room
of the Windsor hotel across the way. This is
additional to patrol duty done by a seperate set
of men. The employes of the millionaire fami
lies, whose names are poor people’s synonymens
for wealth, are kept informed as to every new
demonstration by a crank, and they are alert to
descry and drive off the monomaniacs who at
tempt any exploits. During the Western strikes
Jay Gould has made the trips between his home
and office in a cab, instead of elevated car as
formeny, and it is observed that a ring of his
bell brings a sauntering watchman to the loot
of the steps about as quickly as it does the ser
vant on the top. One of the defences in Gouid’s
case is against those who would write antago
nistic sentiments with chalk on his sidewalk
and steps. Men and boys are frequently caught
at it and compelled to desist. A specimen of
that class of revolutionists seemed to be a poet
and a wild one, judging by the description of
him. His chalk was blight red, and he rapidly,
wrote:
The rich may shirk,
The poor must work,
before he was collared; and then, as though de
termined that at least the terminal rhymes of
his verse should be emblazoned, he added at
what would have been the end of the third line,
“labor,” and right underneath “neighbor.” The
rest remains unknown.
BANAN^_BAKERY.
ef Description ol One of These
ovel Fruit Bipeners Located on
Ottawa Street
process of hatching chickens by artificial
pretty generally known, but who ever
ripen Id g bananas in an oven up here in
? Such, however, is the case. Yes-
reporter for the- Telegram-Herald
W. F. Gibson and Company, No. 20
j»aod through than oonrteay was
UiUMBW Wbaaami MJtefy;
* Well what do you want?” exclaimed the
Oven as the reporter walked into its interior.
“Yes, I see, you want to know something about
me, don’t yon ? Get out your notebook! You
see that I am about tiiteen feet square and eight
or ten feet high. This paper upon the ceiling is
to keep the beat inside. My walls are all sealed
as you see. That hole up there is wnere the
bananas are lowered down, and all of these
books in the ceiling are to bang the bunches
upon. Well, these fellows fill me lull of bana
nas, I should say about a hundred bunches, and
then light up that gas stove over there. This
table, covered with sheet iron, is placed over
the gas heater, so that the light won't shine on
the banaras. It would turn them black, if it
should. The bananas come in here green and
as hard as a rock. When all is ready, the tem
perature is raised to about seventy or seventy-
five degrees and Is left so for three or four days,
when the bananas begin to turn yellow. Then
the temperature is raised to eighty-five degrees,
and in a day or two the fruit Is soft, yellow and
ready for the market. Say, what’s the matter
with your people here anyhow? Didn’t you
know I was here? Pshaw, why I’m a chestnut.
There are lots of my brethren scattered over
the country in the laige cities. Every well reg
ulated commission bouse has one of us. Good
bye!”
A NEW WONDERLAND
The Marvelous Fountain of Pure Oil
Which Gushes in Gros
Ventre Valley.
[Oheyenne Leader.]
On the mountain peaks are found fossili-
zations of every variety. Shell fish of a past
age, skeletons of curious birds, and bones of
gigantio and long extinot animals strew the
valleys and appear upon the mountains. On
the broad surface of table like rooks are cu
rious oarvings of strange animals and birds,
with hieroglyphios as strange aa the subjects
they apparently explain.
Entering through a crevice between two
gigantio rooks, the explorers found them
selves in a circular basin 300 feet in oircum-
ferenoe and lofty in height. The floor of
this basin was as regularly paved with broad
flagging as if dor e by the hand of man.
From three parts of the basin arose a thin,
bluish vapor, spreading through the under
ground chamber a dose, oil-like smelL On
investigation this vapor was found to arise
from deep seams in the rocky floor. One of
the party prodnoed a long oord, and attach
ing to it a small stone, attempted to gauge
the depth of these seams. No bottom could
be reached, however. On the stone being
withdrawn it was, in every instance, found
to be covered with a yellow, stioky matter of
glne-like consistency, strongly impregnated
with a petroleum odor.
One of the parly stumbled on a second
opening, and this led into a third and small
er ohamber, in the oenter of which was a
working, bubbling oil fountain. This was
the pure article itself, as dear as if fresh
from the best oil refinery. In fad, it was
the produot of a natural refinery, and the
most potent foroes were engaged in its man
ufacture. From deep down in the bowels of
the earth came a sound as of steady churn
ing, and the oil mass heaved and shook at
intervals as the continued produot of the
natural refining process was poured into it.
Was Washington Hen-Pecked?
Is there any foundation for this floating para
graph? And if there is, what does it amount
to?
Few historic women have been more misun
derstood than Mrs. Washington—the “dear
Patsy,” as General Washington addressed her
in his letters. She was what would now be
known as a society woman. She was beautiiul,
rich, talented, high-bred, and, it must be ad
mitted, shrewish. It is a fact little known that
the immortal Washington was very much hen
pecked.
A tew days before Easter a gentleman, direct
ed by his better half, called upon a well known
milliner for his wife’s new bonnet.
“Really,” said the milliner, “it isn’t ready yet.
We are so crowded with work I don’t know
what we will do. Can’t your wife wait until the
rush is over?”
“Wait?” said the gentleman, “of course she
can. She has four or live hats at home now.”
The next morning the store had hardly opened
before the same gentleman rushed in.
“For goodness sake!” he exclaimed, “get that
hat ready right off! I have been married twen
ty-three years, and I never before knew that my
wife had a temper. Whew!"—Indianapolis
Journal.
A Gotham lady is so fond of notoriety that sfce
has had the hoofs of her hones gilded.
AMERICANS^ BRAZIL
What They are Doing and How They
are Prospering Since They
Lett the South.
Washington, May 27.—General H. Clay Arm
strong, Consul-General to Brazil, is in this city,
In conversation with your eorresgpddent, he
gave an interesting account of the condition of
the colony of Southerners who went to Brazil
Inst after the war. “These people,” said Crene-
ral Arpiatsqug, ‘ left the United States immedi
ately after hostilities ceased. Tfiey believed
that the South could not recover from the effects
of the Iron heel of war, and that the people who
participated in the war would never have any
show in the reconstructed Union. I found them
400 miles from Rio Janeiro, In the back country.
They have a tract about fifteen mlies square.
Cal. W. H. Norris, who was quite a prominent
man in Alabama, is one of the leading men of
the colony. I also met Dr. C. C. Crisp, a very
accomplished man from Tennessee. I explained
to some of the leading men that they had, in my
opinion, made a mistake in leaving the United
States. They seemed quite well contented, how
ever, and said that they would probably remain.
There are now about 500 in the colony.”
“Do they hold slaves?”
“Some of them do. I advised them to get rid
of their slaves, however, and told them that it
was a relic of barbarism that even in Brazil
would soon pass away. I explained bow the
United States bad advanced since the war, and
they were very much astonished when I told
them that I would fight before I would permit
slavery to be again established in my own State ”
“What are these people mostly engaged in?”
“They are making a good deal of money out of
raisiDg watermelons. These are very large and
exceedingly good. The Brazilians had never
raised any, but buy toem readily. The native
population do little except raise coffae. It is
bard to get them to undertake anything else.
The Americans are engaged also in the produc
tion of cotton, and this finds a ready market, as
the mills that have been started in the empire
prefer it to any other. They are in a general
way quite prosperous, but they need schools. I
shall take hack some school teachers with me,
If possible.”
•‘Do tbe younger generation speak good Eng
lish?”
“Well, it is getting rather Inferior and some
what mixed. They ueed schools more than any
thing else. The older members of the colony
take some papers from tbe United states, and I
found that they had kept a general run of what
was going on here. They seem to be proud that
they are Americans, and only In one or two In
stances have they become naturalized to the
Brazilian Empire.”
“Has the Brazilian Empire yet large tracts of
uninhabited lands?”
“Millions of acres with nothing but monkeys
and parrots upon it. At tbe request of the min
ister of public lands, I shall furnish them our
plan of conducting the public land business.”
A. FEMIMIIE SOLILOQUY.
Wny is the world so fair to-day?
Why do I feel so blithe and gay,
As through the throng I pick my way?
I’ve got a new spring suit!
See how tbe other women stare
as I go by with jaunty air;
Just near them whisper: “I declare,
' got a new spring suit!”
She’i
See how the men, as they pass by,
Look at me with admiring eye.
To-day all rivals I defy,
In my brand-new spring suit.
Why is my husband’s face so glum?
I’ll tell you why—but keep it mum—
He’s thinking that next week will come
The bill for my new spring suit.
Well, I must go. Good-bye! Oh, say,
If you see Moilie West to-day,
’Just tell her in a quiet way
I’ve got a new spring suit.
—Somerville Journal.
LETTER FROM ALABAMA.
Coal-fields-A Gorgeous Dream.
A Georgian’s Lack.
Cobdova, Ala., May 30.1886.
Editor Sunny South :
Two or three weeks ago contracts were let for
the extension of tbe Georgia Pacific road from
Birmingham to the point in Alabama, forty miles
distant, at which this road—coming from the
Mississippi—terminates. In other words, the
completion of this link gives Atlanta perfect ac
cess to all commercial points in Mississippi and
on the Mississippi,- and, besides, a new and
shorter route to Memphis. These ends will be
attained daring tbe year. But it was only pro
posed to tell of a Georgian’s luck, and not of
that of Atlanta.
HE STRUCK IT RICH.
This Georgian took a contract to tunnel a hill
in the very center of the richest portion of the
Alabama coal basin. He would be compelled,
It was supposed, to use vast quantities of dyna
mite in blasting and removing tbe solid stone of
tbis everlasting bill. It is twenty-six or seven
miles West of Birmingham, and near the spot at
which another great manufacturing and coal
and cotton and Iron city, to outrival Birming
ham, must be built West of the Warrior rifbr.
Tbe lucky contractor had not gone further than
a rod or two into the hill when stone and earth
were supplanted by coal. He found two strata,
each four and a half feet thick, and separated
only by a layer of shale eighteen Inches In
thickness. His tunnel became at once perhaps
the richest and most easily mined coal pit in the
world. The daily output is enormous, and worth
one dollar a ton. He has bought a mile square
of mining privileges about tbe tunnel, ana his
supposed wealth is at least $1 000,000. Snch
is the enterprising Georgians luck. He says
that there are certainly 20,000, perhaps 30 000,
tons of coal In the four surface veins (all within
forty feet of the surface) each 4 and 4% feet
thick, on each acre of the square mile, or twelve
to eighteen million tons on the “section.” In
other words this mile square will produce $12,-
000,000 or more, and yet just such land, and
along the line of tbis road is held at only $25 and
$30 an acre. Such mining property on a Penn
sylvania road would be worth from $500 to $1,000
an acre. Good coal land, having one seam of
four feet, and far distant from the Georgia Pa
cific or other roads, can be bought for $5 to $10
an acre. The price U stnadl'y and even rapidly
advancing along the Georgia Pacific, located,
as it is, through tbe very heart of the richest,
best and thickest coal measures on tbe conti
nent. Col. Long owning 30,000 acres, refused,
not many days ago, $25 an acre cash for 10,000
acres lying on the Georgia Pacific.
THE PROGRESSIVE CITY.
Birmingham grows apace. Five thousand
persons have become citizens within tbe past
three months, and real estate speculators and
“boomers,” as a veracious newspaper of the
town calls them, would have Innocent
people believe that, within ten years, there
will be a city here of half a million
people. No calamities are Buffered to he
thought of. The little creek that supplies Bir
mingham with hydrant water becomes Itself dis
eased In summer time and more and more fa
tally as the country becomes more densely pop
ulated. Tbe more the water is needed, the worse
ltbeeomes. Reptiles and Insects and animals
ef all sorts, sickened Dv heat, come from greater
distances and in fenfold’greater numbers, to die
in the little creek in summer than in winter. It
is almost oleaginous even now. Therefore has
some wiseacre proposed to cut a from Bir
mingham to Tuscaloosa, to be supplied with wa
ter from the Warrior or Cahaba, or other stream.
Tbe country is to be irrigated, furnaces and
mills to be supplied, and the city baptized.
BLESSEDNESS OF BIRMINGHAM.
If this were done, this would speedily become
tbe richest valley on the globe, and Birming
ham and Tuscaloosa of to-day would finally be
upper and lower fauebourgs of the mightiest of
American cities. But the railroad owners are a
power here and tbe canal will never be dug. It
would lower freight rates and compel the con
vert ian of the Warrior into an arm of the sea.
Theu it wuuld cost only from 30 to 50 cents to
transfer a ton of coal or iron from Birmingham
to Mobile. The railroads exact $2. The canal-
diwer is reviled and ridiculed at the rate of
$1.50 a ton by tbe railway owners and mana
gers. In truth, the very men who were fore
most in the Tuscaloosa convention, held last
fall to induce Congress to open the Warrior,
have become interested in tbe direct Mobile and
Tuscaloosa railroad and are opposed outright to
the intervention ' l Congress In behalf of the
g reat mass of the American people who would
ave cheap coal and Iron from Birmingham and
Tuscaloosa drive that of England from Ameri
can ports.
Some day the canal will be dug and the War
rior opened, and a monument, a veritable Jupi
ter Pmvius, like that in Cincinnati, will be
reared in honor of him who would perfect this
commercial water-way to the sea and give this
valley and its cities all that it can drink.
J. R. T.
HIGH ART
The gradmamma of two little boys was once
obliged to reprove the younger brother. “My
dear,” said she, solemnly, “if you tell lies God
will not love you, and when you die your soul
will not go to Heaven.” “What 1th my thoul?”
Inquired Johnny pleasantly. “Your soul, my
child, is—I am surprised that a child of your age
does not know what his soul is. It is—is it pos
sible that you do not know? Well, then—ahem!
Pick up grandmamma’s specs, Johnny. There,
now, you may run out and play, my dear.”
A young boy who recently left his home to at
tend a preparatory school is not mnch taken
W tb tbe change. He is suffering his first case
■ Homesickness, and naturally desires to return
(B his home. In making known bis desires to
his father in a*recent letter he said: “Dear
father: Life is very short; let us spend U to
gether. Your affectionate son.”
Demand for a Moral Chamber of
Horrors-
[Pail Mall Gazette.]
“The nude,” writes a correspondent, “has be*
come a kind of annual plague, bugbear, scandal,
scare, or whatever you may please to call it.
The salon this year is mare undressed than
ever, and there will doubtless be the usual of
fense given at the Royal Academy and Grosve-
nor to those who object to seeing the human
figure except under cover.” “It is all very
well,” said Mr. Beecher the other day, “to say
that to the pure all things are pure, but the fact
is men and women are not so pure that they can
afford to dally with scenes and suggestions
wnich, whatever you may please to say, are cal
culated to inflame the senses. Perhaps there is
some good sense and some good morals, too, in
that We are rather inclined to agree with Mr.
Rnsklnthat only so much of the human body
can be dtcently painted for common inspection
as is customarily seen without offense to public
decency. If this be so, I cannot see why those
large numbers of art-loving people who are re
ally pained and annoyed by the nude pictures at
the Royal Academy should not be protected—
why, In short, there should not be a node room-
regarded by aesthetics as a sanctum sanctorum
of art, and by a good many uuaesthetics as a
moral chamber of horrors. ‘I can see no objec
tion whatever to that,’ said an irreverent cynic
tbe other day, ‘except that the room would be
so inconveniently crowded.’ ”
Over a million pounds is still spent yearly in
pilgrimages to Mecca and Medina. Many of
these Mohammedan pilgrims travel immense
distances. Thus, nearly 6,000 of them are from
tbe Soudan and neighboring parts of Africa, 7,-
000 are Moors, 1 400 Persians, 16,000 Malays and
Indians, and some 25,000 Turks or Egyptians.
These are the figures for the year 1885, when
there were no fewer than 53,010 pilgrims to these
two famous shrines.