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Address, ADVERTISER PUBLISHING CO.,
CKDZBTuTTN, GA.
Cedartown Advertiser.
OLD SERIES—YOL. VL NO. 16.
CEDARTOWN, GA., JULY 3, 1879.
NEW SERIES—VOL. I. NO. 29.
ADVERTISING RATES.
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OBITUARY NOTICES—Charged at hall rates.
LET IT PASS.
-Be not fqpffc to.take offence ;
“Xet if pass 1
Anger ia a fo • to sense ;
Let it pas*!
Er od not dar ly o’e- a wro g
Wli ch wi 1 disappear ere long ;
Rattier s ing this cheery song—
Let .t pass !
Let it pa-s!
Strife’corrt dcs the purest mind ;
Let it pa-*« !
As the unre arded wind,
Le' it pass !
Any vulgar souls that live.
May condemn without reprieve ;
’Tib the t.ob.e who forgive,
Let it pass !
Let it pass!
Echo not an augr word ;
Let it pass!
Think I ow often you have erred ;
Let it pass !
Since our j >ys must pass away,
Like the dewirops on the spr<iy,
Whe efore should our Borrows stay !
L*t them pass !
Let them pass !
If for g> od you’ve taken ill.
Let it pass !
Oh ! be kind and geut e sti.l ;
Let it as!
Time at last makes all things straight ;
Let us not resent, but wait,
And our triumph shall be great ;
Let it pass !
~ Let it pass !
Bid your anger to di part
Let it pass!
Lay these homely words to heart
‘Let tpa?s!”
Follow not the giddy throng ;
Better to be wronged t an wrong ;
There fore sing the cheery song—
Let it pass !
Let it pass !
The Old Chalk-Pit.
South Down, though charmingly situated
in one of the eastern counties of England,
is not a place of general resort.
Here and there a cottage or two may be
found, making a pleasing variety in a land
scape rich in nature's loveliness; but as our
narrative lias only to do with that part of
South Down in the immediate vicinity of
the chalk-pits, we will briefly introduce the 1
reader to Adam Iia-wley and his wife, an !
old couple occupying one of the little dwel
lings near to this locality.
Adam spent mojt of his days in carting ;
away mud and rubbish from the roadside, |
and at other times he would work in the i
pits, earning enough to keep himself and
wife in comfortable circumstances.
These old people lived on from day to
day, from season to season, without change j
in their mode of life. They were quiet and |
orderly, causing neither trouble nor anoy- I
ance to their neighbors; but for all this they
were no favorites.
The fact is, Deborah Hawley and her I
husband lived only to please themselves. j
Possessed of every comfort—for, besides 1
the bread-winner’s earnings, they had a lit- j
tie income of eight shillings a week coming j
in regularly—and, engrossed in their own j
concerns, they m\vep troubled themselves 1
about being neighborly; thus much of the!
sunshine of life was unknown to them, |
through the unapproaclmblcncss of their i
own characters.
They were certainly a striking contrast j
to the rest of the inhabitants of Lime Cot
tages, as the collection of little dwellings
was called—among whom there was a feel
ing of friendliness, and many helpful deeds
made life's day brighter to many of them.
But the Hawleys were strangers to acts
of "kindness, and so long as no misfortune
happened to themselves the}’ never thought
of relieving the ills of other folks.
Mrs. Figgins, their next-door neighbor,
whose husband was down with brain fever,
and required constant‘watching, day and
night, had three of her little children laid
up at the same time with inflamation o£ the
lungs; yet, in her domestic difficulties she
never ventured on asking aid from Mrs.
Hawley; but Mrs. Keen, a busy matron,
with half a dozen little ones of her own,
and engaged nearly ever}’ hour of the day
in ministering to their w ants, proffered the
necessary help, even before it was solicited.
The whole community, with the excep
tion of old Deborah and her husband, vied
with one another in helping poor Mrs. Fig-
gius through her trouble.
Not even a kina inquiry as to how the in
valids were progressing passed the old
couple’s lips; and as to a lew’ of the new'*
laid eggs, that Mrs. Hawley's hens supplied
her with so plentifully, finding their way
into .their sick neighbor's house, such a
thing was never thought of. Sooner than
give them away they were allowed to orna
ment the shelves in the little parlor till they
became too bad to be eaten by any one.
The faculty of performing kindnesses
eertaydy did not belong to these old people.
All their lives they had closed their hearts
to works of benevolence, and now, in their
declining years, no gentle promptings from
earth or heaven seemed to arouse them
t i deeds of love.
Once only an angel’s whisper reached
Adam Hawley, making him for a moment
seem troubled and uneasy; but the bright
spark, .which, had he allowed it to kindle,
would have filled his rugged countenance
with sunshine, was quenched as he mut
tered:
“What is it to us if they do want new-
laid eggs i Let them keep fowls of their
own and they'll get some.”
So the communication which he had
overheard Mrs. Figgins make to a friend
concerning the requirements of her sick fa
mily \yas blotted from his mind, as he con
vinced’ himself that it was not needful to
bother himself with other people’s troubles.
Nevertheless, he repeated what he had
overheard to his wife, and as a woman's
influence in whatever rank of life is all
powerful, Mrs. Hawley's reply, had it been
in favor of a charitable aciion, might have
done much toward its accomplishment, in
stead of which her verdict, “Let them get
eggs for themselves if they want them,’
strentghened her husband in his opinion
that the matter was no concern of theirs.
So, while others, with far scantier means,
depried themselves of even little necessaries
in order to relieve the pressing wants of
Mrs. Figgins’ household, this old couple,
who, in comparison, could have given of
their abundance, shut their eyes and ears to
their neighbors' necessities, though mon
than one of the invalids might have been
makingrapid progress toward convalescence,
if supplied with proper nourishment.
1 lie Hawley's were not in ignorance as
to the feeling of disfavor with which their
fellow cottagers regarded them—but what
cared they?
Possessed of all they required, able to
wait on themselves, endowed with good
health, they solicited favors of no one, and
with blinded eyes, and well-nigh unthank
ful hearts, they lived for themselves only.
One afternoon, Adam Hawley had just
partaken of a very comfortable tea, which
his wife had prepared for him. Poor Mrs.
Figgins’ pale, anxious face, which he
caught a sight of as she returned from her
scanty marketing, had by no means dis
turbed Ills enjoyment of it, and with the
same unmindfulness regarding the wants of
others he prepared to set out for his work
again.
“You’ll about have time to shell the peas
and get the supper on afore I’m back,”
were the parting words to his helpmeet,
and with no thought beyond the present the
speaker started.
The following quarter of an hour was
passed in fetching the horse and cart from
Farmer Kirby’s. Then Adam filled his
cart with the collection of rubbish, and,
leading old Derry by the bridle, proceeded
leisurely in the direction of the chalk-pits.
Steadily and quietly the willing animal
plodded on, past the Lime Cottages, down
the curve of the road, to within a few feet
of the deep hollow in which the load he
was carrying was to be deposited.
But suddenly aloud “Whoa!” accom
panied by a tug of the reins, announced
that something was wrong, but this failed
to rectify matters, for the horse, suddenly
checked at the moment of slipping, was un
able to recover his footiug, and, after one
or two ineffectual attempts, his knees
doubled under him and down he went.
Then began a struggling and scufflinng,
as Adam exerted all his strength to get
Derry to his feet; but the ground which
was composed of loose sand, was unfavor
able for this purpose, and the horse’s strug
gles brought him nearer and nearer to the
pit’s edge. In bewildered dismay, the old
man gazed affrighted around, as he endea
vored to pull the animal back.
In vain be shouted and called for help!
no living creature was visible, and no sound
broke the stillness as his agonized tones
died away without response.
“She'll be over as sure as fate—and drag*
me in,” he gasped frantically, feeling his
strength failing with each plunge of the
horse. While large beads of prespiration
stood on his intensely puckered face, his
thoughts flew to old Deborah, who was sit
ting in her kitchen, calmly shelling a fine
gathering of marrowfats, little guessing the
peril then just happening to her husband
within a short distance from her dwelling.
Having finished, she rose from her seat
as some one hastily passed her open door,
and, in another moment, she heard Mrs.
Figgins’ eldest girl explaining something
to her mother.
The tones were hurried and the sounds
confused; and she might have paid little
heed to them had not her own name fallen,
with familiar distinctness on her ears.
“What have they got to talk about me \
for?” she murmured somewhat grnffiy, as, I
proceeding to the door, she was going to !
close it; hut her attention was arrested by j
what appeared to be the outpouring of all j
her neighbors, sis though moved by one;
mind, they rushed in the direction of the [
chalk-pit.
Mrs. Figgins alone stood stationary, and i
her countenance paled when she saw the j
look of fear that overspread old Deborah's 1
face as she inquired:
“What's the matter—what's they all !
gone down there for?”
“Oh, Mrs. Rawlcy, don’t be frightened;
the horse has fallen down, and your hus- ■
band cannot get him up again—and we—”
Her listener stayed to hear no more; with j
a wild scream she ran off, and reached the I
scene of the accident just as, with an aw
ful crash, the horse vanisl ed over the pit's !
mouth, dragging along with him old Adam. ‘
The half howl, half shriek, which broke
frpm his wife’s lips, lornr rarer in the ear*}
ottrnose wno Heard it.
“My Adam! my Adam! ch, iet me get
to him!” and, had it not.been for kind but
vigorous arms, the poor creature would
have thrown herself into the pit in her
agony.
“Nay, stay ye here; he’ll he all right.”
But as the soothing words were spoken,
the speakers looked around with bewilder-!
ed faces, as they saw no possible way of
making good their promise, for to use their
own expression, “the men” were all away.
Not a man was within call; the cottages
were peopled by women and children at
this hour of the evening, the bread-winners
being away in the fields.
“If lie's alive now, he’ll be kicked to
death before he can begot out,” wailed De
borah, as the horse gave a restless plunge,
and ouce more she made desperate efforts
to reach her husband.
All unkind behavior and past disagreea
bles were forgotten by the poor woman's
neiglilKirs as they wound their arms strong
ly about her, striving by word and deed to
moderate her anguish.
“Oh, if the men would only come! and
springing on a high railing, Mrs. Keen—
who had already sent her children scamper
ing off in all directions in search of them—
looked wildly toward the fields, as she
waved her handkerchief high above her
head, and shouted frantically for help.
How slowly those moments of never-to-
be-forgotten agony crept by, as, bending
over the pit's edge, Mrs. Hawley listened
for any sign or sound to denote that her
husband was living; but only the plunging
of the horse was to be heard, and, in the
violence of her sorrow, the distressed wo
man might have broken from her compa-
eieii8 and cast herself in the hollow be
neath, hail not a prolonged shout from Mrs.
Keen been followed by an assertion which
scut a shrill of hope through every heart.
“They’re coming! hold up Mrs. Haw
ley! we'll soon have him out now!” she ex
claimed, and still continued to wave her
handkerchief.
Ere many seconds had passed, half a
dozen swarthy men—their faces illumined
with the rays of the setting sun—bounded
over the hedge and rail to the scene of
peril.
Their brawny hands and anus were soon
earnestly engaged in the work of rescue;
and while the women comforted old Debo
rah, her husband wrfs got out of his very
dangerous position.
He made no movement as they bore him
to the surface, and then to his cottage,
where it was found that life was not ex
tinct. lie was fearfully bruised and sha
ken, however, and was some weeks in re
covering his usual health.
This incident wrought an entire change
in this old couple. Whether the attention
and sympathy of their neighbors had any
thing to do with it, cannot be said; but "it
is very certain that few are proof against
kind words and loving deeds; sneers and
reproaches may harden, but who can resist
the sunshine of love?
Happily the Hawley's hearts were
touched by the friendly solicitude shown
them: and they evinved their gratitude in
many ways. Selfishness gave place to ge
nerosity, and perhaps the final recovery of
Mrs. Figgins' invalids was, in some mea
sure, due to the frequent supply of new-
laid eggs which Mrs. Hawley’s hens seemed
to take as much delight in laying for other
people as for their own mistress."
Be that as it may; hearts which had
been long closed to the sufferings around
them were now awakened to the honest rea
lization of life’s duties, their earnest atten
tion to which enriched them with a higher
appreciation of life's true sweetness and the
secret of all happiness.
Prince Hassan and His Gloves.
Though but twenty- four years old,
Prince Ilassau, son of the Khedive,and
eommander-in-chief of the Egyptian
contingent on the Danube, is an experi
enced soldier, and has already had his
share of haps and mishaps. The young
Prince received liis military education
a* Woolwich and Berlin, after which be
occupied the office of Minister of War
to his father. During the late war
with Abyssinia he was seriously
wounded and made prisoner. Although
treated with great consideration, Kiug
John—“to punish him,” as he ex
pressed it, “for fighting against Chris
tians—ordered that ri large cross should
be tattooed on the back of each ot the
Prince’s hands. This was done; and
when the wounds were healed the
young officer was released and returned
to Cairo. Arrived at home. Prince
Hassan consulted the best European as
well as native physician and chemists,
and Copt soothsayers, promising a
large sum to any one who should rid
him of the mementos of the Abys
sinian King. Advice was freely offer
ed and experiments tried; the Prince
underwent much suffering but all in
vain—the Christian crosses were indeli
ble. In despair he finally resorted to a
Dervish for advice, and the holy man
communicated a remedy which, ar least
had the. merit of being undeniably
efficacious. “Chop off both thy hands,”
he said to the Prince. “Better live
without hands than w r ear forever those
signs of the infidel gaiours!” But Has-
8au relished it but little, and remains
to this day tattooed with the hateful
symbols. This is why no one sees him
without gloves.
A Brave Cashier.
We think ourselves full of philosophy
when we aie only happy over our lood
ai d drink.
Sorrows are like thunder-clouds; in
the distance they look blaek, over our
heads hardly gray.
While George L. Walter, the cashier,
w’as alone iu charge of the Working
men's Savings Bank of Allegheny City,
Pa., recently, he saw two men of very
suspicious appearance enter the build
ing. One of them stopped at the front
end of the counter, while the other
passed on to the small opening iii the
glass partition, on the top of the coun
ter, about fifteen feet from the door.
The man at the opening presented a
dollar and asked for change, and then
suddenly held a pistol at Walter saying
“If you make any noise, or stir, I will
blow your brains out.” Mr. Walter
instead of recoiling, caught hold of the
revolver with both hands, and in a mo
ment wrenched It out of tiie man’s
hand. The robber then called to his
companion near the door, and he drew
a revolver and came toward Mr. Wal
ter. The latter fearing that they
wanted to enter the vault at the rear of
the bank, the door of which stood open
ran to the rear end of the counter,
where he faced about. He was just in
time to sec his first assailant climbing
over the glass partition on tlje counter,
and the second one getting t,p on the
outside of it. Mr. Walter instantly
fired at the man who had first assailed
him, with the revolver he had first
taken from him and still had, but the
robber jumped down from behind the
counter in time to dodge thaball which
passed through the plate glass window’
in the front part ot the bank. The first
thief then caught up the largest pile of
bank notes on the table and started to
climb over the counter again. Before
he got oil the counter Mr. Walter again
fired at him, and as he climbed up on
the counter fired again. The man then
got over the partition and fell to the
tloor, dropping a large part of the
money he had under his arm. Quickly
regaining his feet he ran out ot the
door. The secor.d robber who bad
climbed over the partition got back and
followed his companion. It appears
that there was still a third man and a
boy standing outside of the door. A
moment after the first two men entered
the boy followed with a large market
basket, which he quickly dropped and
ran out w hen Mr. Walter began shoot
ing. The basket, no doubt, was to
place the money in. Chase was then
given the robbers. One of them
snapped a pistol at a railroad flagman
who attempted to stop them. He then
leaped over the wall and ran down to
Bell’s alley to the Allegheny River, in
to which he jumped. He floated and
swam down to a coal float, where he
painted his revolver at two boys in a
skiff and compelled them to take him
aboard and row him down and across
ilie river to Pittsburg, where he es
caped, as did all his companions, owing
to the confusion and uncertainty of the
pursuers. The robbers took away
$1,500 and dropped $900. There was
altogether some $15,000 on tlie bank
counter within reach of the thieves.
Mexican Water-carriers.
A Mexican watei-carrier is always an
oddly-dressed fellow. He looks some
thing like tlie man one met **one misty
inoisty morning,” who was clothed all
in leather. He has a leather cap, jack
et and trousers, the last reaching only
to his knees and held aside with bright
buttons of silver, so as to show’ the
white drawers beneath. Down the
front of his jacket, too, and around the
rim of his cap are bright buttons.
Fastened at his side is a leather wallet
Holding his money. On his feet are
tw’o stout leather straps, holding two
iugs of earthenware, one resting on
his back and the other hanging in
front. He begins work early in the
morning. If you go into any of the
public squares in the city of Mexico,
you will then see a great many of them
all seated around the stone basin and
nu3y preparing for the day’s work.
They reach far over the edge, and dip-
ing up the water, fill their large jug.
Throwing that on their backs, the}
reach down once more and fill the
smaller one, and then trot off and visit
the different houses of the city, and
sell the families what water they want.
You would say, perhaps, it was a heavy
load to carry ty the head and neck,
but the carrier does not seem to mind
it, for he is very strong and the jugs
just balance each other. It is said an
Englishman was ouce told of this bal
ance, and to see if it were so, he waited
until a carrier came along, and then
with his cane broke one of the jugs.
Alas! Down came the man’s jugs and
ill his balance surely was gone. Wa-
tef has to be brought about in this
manner because none runs in the
houses by lead pipes, as with us. Ii
all comes from near the old castle ol
Chapultepec, three or four miles from
the city. It runs over great stone ac-
queducts, built by Cortes, and when ii
reaches the public square falls into
the stone basins of the city. So you
see, it makes these carriers almost like
our milkmen, only they do not come
with a fine horse and carriage, and do
not make nearly as much. Tney only
get a few cents each day. How hard
they work, too. Busy from morn till
eve, always earnest, harly ever smiling
always on a little ludian trot, they go
about from house to house, and then
when the day’s work is over, what a
life they lead. They have no home to
go too, either; they live in the streets,
sleep in the gutter or on the cathedral
stone steps, and often, I fear, get so be
fogged on “pulque,” the national drink
that they do not care whether they have
a home and a good bed or not.
Think what a miserable existance,
not knowing liow to read, dressing as
those before them did three hundred
years ago, and doing nothing but car
rying water about the city. Everyday
they will go into the great cathedral
and say their prayers. They put their
jugs down beside them, clasp their
hands, raise their eyes to the Image of
their patron saint, and present their
requests or their thanks, and then tak
ing a last look at the gold candlesticks
and rich ornaments, will hurry away
and continue their hard, uninteresting
labors.
A New Book.
She entered the store. She w’as
young, neat and modestly attired in
black, and had a face of rather classic
beauty, while her shapely hands were
holding a pencil and a book.
The store was full of customers and
there was every appearance of a rush
of business, but one luckless clerk
walking behind the counter chanced to
stop, and tlie young lady began :
“1 have a new book here which I am
selling ”
“I don’t think I care to—” began the
clerk; but the young lady continued:
“The author is a famous one, and it
is said by all that this is his best work.”
“I have other business—if you will
kindly excuse me,” said the clerk, but
the book agent stopped him with :
“You see this is a new business for
me and I hope you won’t rid yourself
of me in this way.”
The clerk explained that he had no
wish to slight her,” whereupon the
persistent little beauty resumed:
“I am not ashamed to say that I am
in want and have decided to perioot
my sell in short-hand reporting. That’s
why I am so anxious to sell you a book.
I will not deliver it until next month.
I do wish you w ould take one, it would
help me. You can pay for it so easly.
I will tell you how to save $2. You
need only save four cents a day and it
would help me gain my object. I as
sure you 1 would appreciate it, for I am
very anxious. That’s w hy I work day’s
and sttdy nights. On my list here—
I have just came from Toledo—I have
the names ”
How long she would have continued
in this strain it is impossible to say, as
the clerk gasping for breath, abruptly
left her to attend to another customer
who had just entered the store.
Growing English Ivy.
The Toad Market of Paris.
I have heard many people complain that
they could not keep English ivies, because
they grow so slowly, and that they could
not afford to wait for a small vine to grow
to any considerable size. While visiting
my old home, the past summer, I made
many calls, and among them, one upon a
lady, who is noted tlirougliout the village,
for the beauty of her ivies. Though com
paratively young plants, they were stalky,
while the leaves were of that glossy-green
w'hicli is seldom seen on plants outside the
green house. I asked he , after having ad
mired the plants sufficiently, “What is the
secret of your success?” She assured me
that it was no secret, adding, “I put a piece
of beefsteak at tlie roots ev**ry Spring and
Fall, and this is the result.”
“But does not the odor of the decaying
beef annoy you?”
“It never has and w r hy should it, won’t
people fid the pots half full of stable rich
ness. and never even think of offensive
odors?”
On my return to Worcester I put some
steak, a piece perhaps two inches square,
under the roots of my ivy, and in a week
or two it began to run, and has grown very
rapidly ever since.
Now, perhaps other decaying matter
would do as well, but I can truely recom
mend the steak as having been tried. Ma-
up say that too much richness will kill the
plant, but I know from experience that
vines, all kinds of ivies, air plants and Ma-
deiras cannot have too much. Use a
mixed dressing, such as has been made rea
dy for the garden, two thirds of this and
one of common earth, and your vines will
grow rank and beautiful, astonishing you
with large leaves and stout stems.
Tlie Vanilla It**
i at the Mauritius.
Of late years the cultivation of vanilla has
been introduced, the high price of the bean
attracting attention. This was not always
the case, when its only use was a flavoring
essence; now it has been found to be of
great assistance in silkdyeing, and the de
mand for it became much increased. It is
a heavy, sluggish-looking plant, climbing
up the stick or trunks of trees near, while
it is planted in a serious sort of way. The
leaves are flat and thick, and the pods hang
in clusters from the joints of the stems.
The flowers have to be impregnated by
hand, and great care is used in handling
and drying them. The pods are at first
green, when dry they turn black, and if
properly prepared exude beautiful needle-
shaped crystals. Shade is absolutely neces
sary to the plants, and the circumstance is
taken advantage of by the proprietors, who
plant the vines in rows under the shrubber
ies winch adorn tiieir gardens. Thieves
were not long in finding out the value of
the beans, and for a time the new industry
received a check owing to their depredation
until a law was passed containing the most
stringent provisions for its protection.
A St. Louis ucik i? named Gasbill.
Unhappy man. Everybody disputes
him.
By the Jardin des Plantes, in the old
and quaint quarter of St. Marcel, you
will find every Wednesday morn ng
from spring to autumn, a very curious
market place. It is as simple as a to
bacco “brake” and more enlivening
than the coffee market, at the same
hour, at least. Passing down Rue
Geoffroy, St Hillaire, at this ear'y hour
(7 to 9 a.m.) your attention is called to
an open space of ground, separated by
a boarding from the street by a notee
like unto that which greets the ears of
tired Senators when the sun of day is
meeting the twilight hour, and all
frogdoui on the bauks of the Washing
ton canal is chorusly joyous and loud!
We approach this market place so full
of simplicity and sound. Young men
in blue blouses, black silk caps (like
tbo«e our tourists are wont to put in
their rockets in America) pert faces,
jaunty big finger-rings, dandy
boots, greasy hair—parted down the
middle—and prim mustaches, are the
venders. In one hand they bold a lit
tle stick, and when the sounds alluded
to grow heathenish, whack goes the
stick on the top of a barrel whence
these diabolical noises emanate, and si
lence reigns. The toads are momen
tarily dumb. We know there is a good
deal of unlovable sentiment arrayed
against toads, yet toads are full of love
sentiment. A toad carries all its young
in a most loving and sentimental cian-
nei, and why should not like beget like,
if there be any truth in the doctrine of
Aristotle. Much bad blood and malig
nity is got up against toads. This one
of the young men in blouse tells me, in
a foppish, half-philosophical way.
Barrels of toads! Think of it! Bar
rel! packed like barrels of potatoes!
“Selling at 2 francs; 4 to 6 francs a
dozen, prime toads! nice toads!” Who
buys them? Vegetable gardeners.
Why ? For the reason that toads devour
the insects that otherwise would devour
the vegetables. Who devour the toads ?
Contrary to some ideas—not the French
people. But Loads are being sold now,
cot devoured, and it is with the selling
we are intereste 1. How do they vend
them? Young man in blouse bares his
arm and thrusts his open hand into the
slimy swim and brings up two, three
or four gymnastic toads, wriggling and
writhing. He points out their merits
and delivers them in a box by the doz
en to the eager market gardener, who
takes bis choice and pays his price.
Tlie buying and selling is done expedi-
iously and quietly, the only noise be-
in£toady-like, and that is subdued much
mjre easily by the vender’s baton than
lajger and more noisy creatures in
Congress comply with the Speaker’s
irvllet. The license revenue to the
Government is great, while the profit
the vendors is greater, arising from
t/is other peculiar Parisian baseness,
twe selling of toads. I address myself
aToflc of the merchants: Permit me to
ask if you have been long in this busi
ness?” Merchant looks at me and la
conically replies: “Born at it!” Then
I resume and say, encouragingly:
,'You know a good deal about it?” He
l*oks at me again and replies: “All !”
i uneasy as to his feelings, there
fore change the attack by asking: “Does
is pay well ?” He deigns not to look at
me now, but replies “It does!” I be
gin to think he is as monosyllabic as a
oad, and wonder if he has caught
.heir habits, as some people do certain
peculiarities that mark them in their
Ct ades, such as tailors, shoemakers, car
penters and printers. “Do you suffer
much loss by death in packing the toads
all of a mass in a barrel?” “Ido not!”
“Is it expensive to cultivate them!”
“It is!” (“1 vow tnefellow is a toad,”
I mentally say to myself.) “How do
you care for them and propagate them ?*’
“We dont care much, and they propa
gate themselves!” (Now I know he is a
load.) “Where?” “Marshes and
rockeries!”“Doyou never feed them?”
“Never!” “How do they th*»y live?”
“Pretty well!” (Vile toad!) “Have
you a large supply?” “Too large!”
I now look upon him as the concentrat
ed assemblage of many toads, and 1
leave him, as he sings and looks as sim
ple as a Rafael le in a blouse selling
toads! Inner Paris, indeed thou art
full ot paradoxes and peculiarities sel
dom seen outside!
Lost in the Desert.
Major Thornburg, and his command
recently became bewildered in the Sand
Hills of Nebraska, when in pursuit ol
the Cheyenne Indians. The tale is
thus told. The march had been
through a country which is a geograp
hical blank, and a desert untenanted
by scarcely a living thing. The wag
on trains were abandoned at the Platte
river, two of them being stuck in the
quicksand. The men took two days’
rations on their saddles and started
nortnward toward While Tail creek,
where the scouts reported the savages
encamped. A fog so dense that it ob
scured objects twenty yards away be
wildered the scouts, and, before they
struck the trail, eight miles a way twen
ty miles had been traversed in object
less detours, and the savages had es
caped. Their camp fires were still
smouldering and their trail was still
fresh. The column pushed on with
scouts supposed to know all about the
country, but they proved their utter
ignorance by leading the column
through an inaccessible country and
losing the trail. The track of the sav
ages was finally discovered by member.-
of Thornburgh’s staff, and the cal van
moved on at the highest possible speed.
We made a dry camp underneath the
hills, where a semi-circle of rifle-pit?
had been dug in the sand. We pressed
the savages so closely that twenty po
nies had been abandoned, and near the
rifle pits there were some with pack?
on their backs, all wet with sweat.
During the night the Iudians were
heard around the camp, but the scout?
were unable to strike them. The com
mand w r as in the saddle before day
break, following the trail, which led to
ward the south. Seventy-five miles had
fcaan traversed without a drop of water.
The day was hot and dusty, and mei
and animals suffered frightfully. A
private of Company H of the Fourtl
Iu fan try, dismounted by the falling o
his horse, was left on the road to wail
for Mauck’s command, which was fol
lowing twenty miles in our rear, Tw<
hours after the column passed out oi
sight he was attacked by several Indi
ans. He took refuge in the rifle-pit*
and kept them off tor several hours.
Tlie Indians, circling about him poured
a hot lire upon him, and, although en
tirely exhausted, he escaped unhurt.
Mauk’s command appearing in sight just
after the Indians bad succeeded in shoot
ing the trigger off his gun. We reach
ed a smail creek near the North Platte
river on Sunday noon. The men were
almost unable to articulate from the
efleet of their torturing thirst. The
wagon-train, left in the rear, was at
tacked by fiiteeu Indians. The guard
repelled the assault until the arrival
of Mauk. All the scouts who had
been engaged deserted the expedition,
and Col. Thornburg could only push on
in a northern direction in hopes ol
striking the trail. Finally we struck
the great sand hills ot Nebraska. The
sand was knee deep to the horses and
was carried by the wind In blinding
clouds. Ceaseless currents of wind
piled it up in monstrous castles or
whirled it up into drifts like snow
The troop marched forty-five miles
without water and with no food save
a little hard-tack ami raw bacon. Just
as the sun was going down our glasses
revealed a lake in the distance. We
reached it at 8 o’clock, but found it to
be bitterly alkaline. The next day we
struck Carlton’s trail and followed it,
abandoning all hopes of intercepting
the Indians. The best horses in the
command were sent forward bearing
couriers, to ask Carlton’s assistance.
We marched forty miles and passed
en route a camp made by Carlton’s
men. Horses and men dropping out
of Carlton’s command from exlmu-iion,
came straggling into our camp, near an
alkali lake, at l 11 hours during the
night. Wednesday morning the prob
ability that the whole command would
perish in the sand was generally dis-
cueased. New couriers were sent for
ward, and every effort made by the
commanding officer to relieve the in
creasing distress of the troops. He
succeeded at 3 o’eloik in commmnicat-
ing with Carlton, nda an hour later we
camped on the headquarters of the
Snake river, where Carlton’s relief met
us. Tiie horses were so thin that the
men almost pulled them over in at
tempting to mount. The expedition
is a complete failure so far as the
renegade Cheyennes is concerned. It
failed because iliy fitted out, some
thing for which Thornburg cannot be
held responsible. Another cause of the
failure was the unreliability of the
scouts furnished the expedition. The
d**partmeut of the Plane was outgen
eraled. The savages baffled the troops
at every point, and led them into the
sand hills, iroui which they might nev-
• have <
Taking a Census.
Philosophy.
Two boys went to hunt grapes. One
w’as happy because they iound grapes.
The other w’as unhappy because they
had seeds in them.
Two men, being convalescent, were
isked Vow they were. One said: “
am better to-day,” the other said: •**
was w orse yesterday.”
When it rains one man says: “Thi*
will make mud.” Another: “Thi?
will lay the dust.”
Two children looking through color
ed glasses one said: “The world is
blue.” And the other said: “It is
bright.”
• Two boys eating their dinner, one
said: “I would rather have some
thing better than this.” The other
said : “This is is better than nothing.
A servant thinks a man’s hmise i*
principally kitchen. A guest that it i>
principally parlor.
“I am glad that I live,” says one
man. “1 am sorry that I must die,
says another.
“I am glad,” says one, “that it is no
worse.” “I am sorry” says another,
“that it is no better.”
One man counts everything he has a
gain. Anothef counts everything else
that he conceives a loss.
One man spoils a good repast by
thinking of the better repast of another
A nothor enjoys a poor repast by con
trasting it with none at all.
One man is thankful for his bless
ings. Another is morose for his mis
fortunes.
Oue man thinks he is entitled to a
better world, and is dissatisfied because
he hasn’t got it. Another thinks he i^
not justly entitled to any, and Is satis*
fled with this.
One man makes up his accounts from
his wants. Another from his assets.
Never gave you a History of my census !
taking I believe. Well, I took Jim Walk
er’s place w’hile he was up at Chicago, and '
I had some tough customers, I tell you. I j
came along one day to a cabin some four or j
live miles from any neighbors ; in answer ;
to my knock an old woman about forty |
came to the door.
“How d’ye do? Walk in; folks all •
gone; take a cheer; were you wantin’ to 1
see my old man ?”
“No, madam,” said I, after accepting;
her invitation, “I am taking the census.”
“The who ?” said she.
“The census of the people, the ”
“O, lor’; well, you won’t find much sense
in the people about here, the fever’n ager’s
shook it all out on ’em.”
I proceeded to explain.
“Dear suz, I thought you might be a
magnetism man or a frenologer. ”
I proceeded to get her husband’s name
and age, also the children; but when I
asked her age, she came down on me flat;
I smoothed it over, however, and let go.
Riising, I said :
“Is there any one else in your family ?”
“There’s aunt Sally, but you don’t want
her name, do you?”
“Certainly, ma’am,” I replied, and pro
ceeded to take it at once.
“'rhen there’s old Jerry, but he’s eena-
most gin out this fall. I don’t think the
poor feller’ll last to another spring.”
“Jerry—what is his other name ?”
“We never call him nothing else.”
“How old is he?”
“Why, let me see; fifteen, twenty,
twenty-six—he must be hard onto thirty 1”
“An old man at thirty ?”
“Old man! Who’s talking about old
man? I’se telling you about old an hoss.”
Perhaps I didn’t pick up my hat—per
haps I didn’l take a very hasty leave—well,
perhaps not.
Golden Words to Young Men.
Jerrv ltlnck’x story.
Judge Black, oi Pennsylvania, tells
a comical story of a trial in which a
German doctor appeared tor the defence
in a case for damages brought against
a client of his by the object of his as
sault. The eminent jurist soon recog
nized in his witness, who was produc
ed as a medical expert, a laboring man
who Some years and in another part of
the country had been engaged by him
as a builder of post-and-rail fences.
With this clue he opened his cross-ex
amination. “You say, Doctor,” he be
gan with great deference and suavity,
“that you operated upon Mr. ’s
head alter it was cut by Mr. *s?”
‘Oh, yaw,” replied the ex-fence-
builder; “me d » dat; yaw, yaw.”
“Was the wound a severe one, Doc
tor?”
Enough to kill him if I did not save
his life.”
“Well, Doctor, what did you do for
him ?”
“Exeryting.”
“Did you perform the Caesarian oper
ation ?”
•Oh, yaw, yaw ? if me not do dat he
die.”
“Did you decapitate him ?”
“Yaw, yaw; me do dat too.”
“Did you hold a post-mortem examin
ation ?”
“Oh, to be schure, Schudge; me al
ways do dat.”
“Well, now, Doctor,” and here the
Judge bent over in a friendly and fa
miliar way, tell us whether you sub
mitted your patient to the process
known among professional men as
post-and-rail-fenciorum?”
Tlie mock doctor drew himself up in
dignantly. “Scherry Plack,” says he,
“1 always know’d you vas a tam jay-
liawk lawyer, an’ now I know you lor
a tam mean man.”
“ War’s Jim?*’
Never complain that your employers are
selfish. Not that they are otherwise, but
it will not help matters to growl about it.
I'hey are selfish. Their employers, when
they were young, were no doubt selfish, and
from them they learned the lesson. You,
ton, will learn it, and when you become
employers you’ll be selfish too. It is from
selfish motives that men engage in trade,
and selfishness rules their actions. Of
course it would be better and wiser, and all
that, if they were not selfish, but they are.
Now what are you going to do about it ?
Why, make it for their selfish interest to do
better by you, and they will. Respect
yourselves, and you’ll make them respect
you. Remember that you are at a disad
vantage, that there are a hundred ready to
climb into your place if you do not fill it,
and that those who employ you are fully
aware o: the fact and ready to make the
most they can out of it. Remember that if j
you are getting $1,000 this year and want j
$1,500 next yea r , you have got to earn the |
$1,500 this year. You’ve got topayforpro- j
motion, often an exorbitant price, and as j
you have no other means to pay with,
you’ve got to pay in work. Of course its j
unjust, of course it seems hard that your ,
employer should keep and spend money .
that you have justly earned, but it won’t
pay to fret about it. Never be satisfied ,
with having “earned your money.” Earn ;
more than your money, and then, in a man- i
ly, straightforward, business-like way, ask
for more pay. Ten chances to one you’ll
get it. If you don’t, look about, and as
soon as you’ve fouad a better place, dis
charge your employer. The hard work
that you have done, the record of it, and
the reputation you will have established for
hard work, will make the task of finding
new employment comparatively easy.
Your capacity for work is your only capi
tal. Invest heavily and you are sure to
win.
A great big good-natured fellow about 25
years of age came along to a feed store on
Michigan avenue where two men were end
ing up a bale of hay, and calling to them to
stand aside he flung the bale around as if
be were playing with a quarter sack of
flour. Tlie act called forth the admiration
of all bystanders, and the man in charge of
tlie store winked the giant man aside and
said:
“You arc the man I’ve been looking for.
In the hay department down stairs we have
a young fellow of 18 who thinks he can
clean out anything wearing boots, and I’m
anxious to have him taken down a peg or
two. If you'll go down and pick him up
and mop him around a few times I'll give
you half a dollar. Don’t hurt him, but
just bounce him around and take the con
ceit out of him.”
The big man descended the cellar stairs,
and when he struck the last step he called
out in an awful voice:
“Wherein blazes is that fellow called
Jim? I’ve walked seven miles this morn
ing to mash him to a jelly and fifty dollar
bills won’t buy him off!”
“ Here I am 1” came a voice from behind
the bales, and the giant was heard feeling
his way along and growling to himself:
“Thinks he runs this town, does he?
All I want in this world is to git my paws
on him for about the millionth part of a
second!”
His wish was gratified. Those stand-
ihg at the door above heard a shook and a
struggle, quick gasps and a tussle and the
giant suddenly appeared without his hat,
his nose all bloody and hair on end. He
was in a hurry. He halted just long
enough to cast a glance of reproach at the
feed store man, and then he hopped over
a consignment of oats and was lots on the
street.
Lol.sU'lH Ml* I'lHyttllUgH.
Not long ago, in Sweden, two girls used
to watch for an old boatman who, in the
season, would bring up the fiord or creek, a
whole boatload of lobsters at a time. Then
the girls would beg their nurse Johanna to
let them play with the queer things. Gen
erally, leave would be given, and the sisters
would fetch indoors with great glee as
many of the lobsters as they wanted, and
stand them up all around their play-room,
stroking each on the head as they did so,
and thus putting it to sleep. They had to
keep a sharp eye on the creatures, though,
and, as soon as one threatened to wake, or
waved its terrible claws, they had to run
and tickle it on the head—when it would go
off to sleep again at once! Lizzie says it
was funny to see these play-soldiers—“ma
rines,” she calls them—standing up stiff
and straight, as though they were on the
best behavior at parade drill! Before you
try this game, be sure that you have the
right kind of lobsters to deal with, for it
would be awkward if they should turn on
you and give you tit for tat by *, stroking”
and “tickling"’ you in their fashion with
their claws.
—Flour made from the wheat crop
of 1879 is in the market.
—it is proposed to reduce the next
President’s salary to $25,000.
—Tne great fires in Cuba have caus
ed a loss of over $100,000,000.
—The railroads of the world would
encircle it seven times and have 10,000
miles to spare.
—Twentv Western railroads show an
increase of one and a half per cent, for
April over the same month last year.
—The value of the cotton crop in
Florida last year is estimated at $400,-
000.
—The annual crop of tobacco leaf is
about $420,000,000 pounds, two-thirds
of which is exported.
—Potatoes are twenty-live cents per
bushel in Colorado, and $1.25 per bushel
in Massachusetts.
—Recently there have been deposited
in the streams of North Carolina 2,000,-
000 young shad.
—Twenty-five thousand live quail
are being imported from England to be
set at liberty iu Pennsylvania.
—Out of the 49.118 children of sphool
age in Cleveland, Ohio, 16,633 do not
attend any school.
—One hundred thousand pieces of cal
ico of thirty vaHs each are produced
every week in the United States.
—The yield of wheat per acre in Wes
tern Maryland is declared to be unpre
cedented.
—The new constitution of California
goes into effect the first day of July
next. The old oue dates back to 1&49.
—During the season just closed the
Boston Sewing Circle has made 10,400
pieces of clothing for the poor of that
city.
—The population of Spain and the ad
jacent islands is .6 625.860, including
40 741 foreignerv. This is an iucrea&e
of 952,324 since I860.
A beet sugar manufactory is to be
established at New Hamburg, Canada,
with a capital of $26,000, all raised
among the farmers ot the vicinity.
—At a colored people’s wedding in
Cincinnati the other day the bride was
presented by her parents with a hand
some residence and $60,000 in cash.
—There were nine failures In'Oiifca-
) during April, with liabilities
amounting to $182,000 ami assets (nom
inal) of$119,000.
—During April 10,000,000 paper bags
were made by a factory at Bailston Spa,
and j’et the supply falls short of the de
mand.
—The Dominion’s revenue ha9 fallen
off $3,348,157 since 1873-74 though lia
bilities and maturing obligations have
been on the increase.
—Mr. Charles L. Flint, the State
Agricultural Secretary of Massachu eits
has been elected President of the Am
herst Agricultural College.
—Mr. Millais’s picture, “The Order
of Release,” was sold the other day iu
London for $14,175. He painted it
iwenty-five years ago for 2,000
—Nine thousand dollars have been
subscribed iu Rochester for an observa
tory for Prut. Lewis Swift, and the
building will soon be commenced-
There are in tho primary. Interme
diate and grammar schools of Provi
dence, R l„ 252 teachers, only nine of
horn am men.
—The elevation of the Rev. D*\ John
Henry Newman to the dignity of a Car
dinal took place at Rome on the 5th of
May. He is to be know n in church
annals as Cardinal St. George.
—During the flrst quarter of the pre
sent year, there were 412 fires in New
York City, involviug a total loss of $4,-
075,178. The uninsured los» amounted
to only $110,625.
—The arrearage of pensions accounts
have thus fa rave raged about eight hun
dred and fifty dollars, or four times as
large as the estimate reported to Con
gress.
—The sugar and ri< e crops of Louis
iana sold last year foi more than $20,-
000.000. They were produced on less
than one fifth of tlie cultivated acreage
of the State.
—A leather bag, containing $25,000
w’as recently found iu a Loudon bil
liard saloon, where it was left under a
3ettee by its careless owner. He recov
ered it next day.
—There is a snowdrift in Tucke
man’s ravine, Mount Washington, 3J
feet deep, with an arch of 150 feet.
The heart has been cut out by the
—The choir of the New England
church, at Boston, will contain 80
sopranos, 75 altos, 65 tenors, and So
ba??os next year, with 16 additional
yoices for solos-
- Recent reports show that of the
2,400 organizations of Young Men’s
Christian Associations throughout the
world, 1,000 are in America. This
American group own fifty-six buildings
and properly valued at $2,500,000.
—The excess ot exports over imports
for the last twelve mouths reached tne
enormous total of $283,000,000, against
$199,000,000 for the year ending with
March, 1878, show ing a net increase of
our foreign commerce of $84,000.
— In Mississippi there are 348,244 pu
pil children—158,156 white,auJ 190,088
colored. Of these, 100,676 white and
104.779 colored attended school. The
school fund lor the past year amount
ed to $626.268—per capita in average
daily attendance, $4.42.
—War balloons, 0113 of them contain
ing thirty-eight thousand cubic feet,
are being got in readiness for transfer
from London to the seat of the Zulu
war. The practicability of sending up
a fresh supply of gas to a balloon,
while it is iu the air, has been demon
strated.
—Accord ing to Mr. E. G. Ravenstein,
of the London Statistical Society, the
lri>h-Gaelle language is still spoken by
867,6U0 persons in the British Islands;
tiie Manx, bv 12.500 parsons; Scotch
Gaelic, by 309,256; Welsh, by 1,000,100,
jnaking a total of 2,195,450, or nearly
seven per cent, of the whole population.
—An absent-minded lady called at a
jewelry store, in Fort land, Me., sever
al days ago, aud before entering she
left her baby in its carriage at the door.
She finished her purchase and went
home. The jewele.* was finally at
tracted by the chfld’s crying and to^k
it into the store and amused it with
some trinkets until its mother having
missed the baby, returned lor it in
about two hours.
—The crypt under the Centre Church
l New Haven Green, Conn., has re
cently been repaired. There are 170
slabs iu it and 13 tablets, 'lhe oldest
legible iuscrip ion is **Mrs. Sarah Ruth
erford Trow bridge, wile of Thomas
Trowbridge,” who died in 1687. The
slab w hicli bears the name of Mrs. Re
becca Hayes, great-great-granomother
of President Hayes, is well preserved.
In the crypt are also the remains of
Mrs. Margaretta, the first wife-of Ben
edict Arnold, who died in 1775, before
her husband’s treason.
