Newspaper Page Text
The Cedartown Advertiser.
Published every Thursday by 3D. 33. FREEMAN.
Terms: SI.50 per annum, in advance.
OLD SERIES—VOL. VII-NO. 34.
CEDARTOWN, GA, SEPTEMBER 23, 1880.
NEW SERIES—VOL. II-NO. 41.
Boy Tom Drop From
MDfORDlWILKEB,
Main St Cedartown Ga.,
tt YOU WANT THEM PURE AND FRB3H.
C. G. JANES,
attorney a.t law,
CEDARTOWN, GA.
Iwr office in the court House. febi9-iy
JOSEPH A. BLANCE,
attorney at law,
fc CEDARTOWN, GA
tw~ pint Boom up Stairs over J. S. Stubbs &
Co'6 Store. septas-iy
DRS. LIDDELL & SON,
PHYSICIANS AND SURGEONS
OFFICK CAST SIDE OF MAIN il.
CEDARTOWN, GA.
W. G. ENGLAND,
Kiysician and Su*/eoni
CEDARTOWN, GA.
OFFICK oyer J. A. Wynn’s where he may be
found ready to attend calls either day or night.
Janls-ly
DR. C. H. HARRIS,
Physician and Surgeon,
Cedartown, ----- Ga.
Offlce at Bradford £ Walker’s Drug Store.
Residence at the Reece House. novit-iy
B. FISHER,
Watchmaker & Jeweler,
CEDARTOWN, GA
Having lust owned out a shop at the store of
a. D. Hogg it‘CO., respectfully requests the
public to call oa him when needing work in hia
jlne. ieb5-u
W. F. TURNER,
< Attorney at Law.
CEDARTOWN, GA.
Will practice In the Superior Courts of Polk,
Paulding, Haralson, Floyd and Carroll counties.
Special attention given to collections and real
estate business. marll-iy
DR. L. S. LEDBETTER,
... .DENTIST,
CEDARTOWN, - - - dEORGIA.
All Dental work performed In the most skill
ful manner. Offlce over J. S. Stubbs A Co.'s,
tebie-ly
F. M. SMITH
Attorney at Law and
REAL ESTATE AGENT.
CEDARTOWN, GA.
Particular attention given to the selling or
rent ng of city property. Buying and selling
wild lands a specialty. Parties owning wild
lands in Georgia woil.'d do well to correspond
with me. as I nave app 1‘Mtlons for thousands
of acres whose owners are unknown. No tax ft.
fa. or other bogus title nc*t d apply. Look up
jour beeswax and write me. Terms: Ten per
cent- commission on sales. For locating and
ascertaining probable value, $1 per lot. For
searching records tor owners, fto cents per lot.
For ascertaining If land Is claimed or occuple.-C
by squatter. $1 per lor, Aiwa vs in advance. To
insure aVent.on enclo-e a 3-cent stamp. Parties
owning wild lands should look to their interests,
as many of these wild .ands are being stolen by
squatters undtr a bogus title. All communica
tions promptly answered. Satisfaction guar
anteed to all honest men. Jan20-ly
LIVERY FEED,
SALE STABLE!
Wright & Johnson Prop’rs.
CEDARTOWN, - - - GEORGIA.
Being supplied with new Horses, New Veht-
cies. k we a^e prepared to meet the wants of
the public In ourline. Jan8-iy
JAMES fi. PRICE,
CEDARTOWN, GA
Keeps on hand and manufactures to order
MATTRESSES!
My work recommends itself wherever used,
and is guaranteed to render the most peifect
satisfaction. No flimsy material used, no work
slighted. I ask a trial. JAMES. H. PRICE.
lebl»-ly.
CALHOUN
Lfvery and Sale Stable.
FOSTER & HARLAN, Props »
CALHOUlf, GEORGIA.
Having lately purchased the above Stable and
supplied It with good Horses and a splendid
ime of new Vehicles, we are prepared to meet
the w ^uts of the traveling public In our line.
Parties wishing vehicles sent to any of the
trains on the Selma, Rome and Dalton Railroad
or to any Other point, may telegraph us, and
have their wants promptly ana properly at-
tended 4 HARLAN, Calhoun, Ga.
janS-tt
TWA An ■£■. MEB,
CEDARTOWN, GA.,
—DEALER IN—
STOVES TINWARE,
Hardware and Hollow-Ware,
OF ALL KINDS.
House-Furnishing Goods
A SPECIALTY.
Mta'ry variety of lob work in my line neatly
feae. I respectfully solicit the patronage of
I. T. MEE
BAKER & HALL,
DEALERS IN
GENERAL HARDWARE,
SUO]
AS
Ready-Made Plows, Plow Stocks, Nails, L Iron and
Steel, Spades, Shovels, Hoes, Rakes, *
Haniire Forks, Ete.
BUGGY WHEELS, SHAFTS, POLES AND CIRCLES,
WHEELBARROWS,
SAWS, FILES, LOCKS, HINGES, CHAINS, ETC.
We have just opened a Hardware House in Cedartown, and
ask a trial in Goods and Prices. 9 We are
Strictly in the Hardware Business,
and will be prepared to furnish goods in our line as cheap as
they can be bought in any market. Give us a trial before
going elsewhere.
CEDARTOWN school,
J. C. HARRIS, Principal.
The Spring Term comment,
day In January and will coating s >i “““J- -
Fall Term opens Srd Monday In .. 'Kust and
continues 4# months. Bates of tuition * tua-
ternary.
The school-room is convenient and comfort-
-Wbie; training thorough and discipline nrm.
The Prlnoipal offers his thanks for past favors,
And confidently ask for a liberal share of patron
age In the future. *
Itefennce as to dlsdsHue, etc., is made to the
former patrons of this Mneol. nortt-sm
"BEAR YE ONE ANOTHER’S BURDENS 1”
Tbe Needed Protection of Our Lore! Ones at Net Cost
The People's Mutual Relief Association
Is issuing certificates of membership in amounts from $1,000 to $5,000 or
strictly healthy persous, male and female. The plans are
SAFE. CHEAP AND PERMANENT.
Applications for membership will be received by
JNO. W. RADLEY, Cedartown, Ga.
Partial list of members In and aronnd Cedartown: F. U. Right, A. A.
Read, John W. Bracken, P. J. Bracken, Wm. R. Craig, Geo. H. Leake, J.
W. Barr. Dr. C. H. Harris, J. B. Crabb, W. H. H. Harris, D. R. Monroe,
Dr. W. G. England, Jno. W. Hadley, J. W. Kilgore, Daniei Walker, D. B.
Freeman. Mrs.N.incv Powell) A lex. Dougheety, Mrs. Francis Dougherty,
Dr. E. II. Richardson, Captain N. S. Eaves. ap!5-6m
A. J. YOUNG,
DEALER IN
Corn and Rye Whiskies, Wine, Gins
and Brandies.
Noyes Warehouse - - CEDARTOWN, Ga.
SOLE'AGE XT FOR COX, HILL ft THOMPSON’S
STONE MOUNTAIN WHISKIES
In Cedartown.
I keep such Liquors’ as may be used as a beverage or for medical
purposes with perfect safety. tS~ Give me a call,
guaranteed.
Good treatment
mr!8-ly
NEW HOUSE! NEW MERCHANTS!
New Goods and Slew Prices.
A. D. HOGG & CO.,
MAIN Street, CEDARTOWN, Georgia,
Have jnst opened a select stock of General Merchandise In their new store,
and want all their friends and the public generally to call and let them
show their goods and prices. Their stock was bought before the recent
rise in prices, and they feel confident of having goods at bottom figures.
They have beautiful Dress Goods, Calicoes, Cornets, new styles; Bleach-
ings, Flannels, Cassimeres, Kerseys, Kentucky .Jeans, Hosiery, Gloves,
Hardware, Notions, etc., etc. Extra nice Gentlemen’s Underwear Vxnr
Low. Remember the place—last Brick Store on South MAIN Street, west
side. nov6-ly
ED. E. BRANNON,
Dealer In -
Staple and Fancy Groceries.
Chickens, Eggs and Batter a Specialty.
I HAVE ALSO
A PIRST-OLASB BAR
In connection with the Store, which is stocked with the finest Liquors
in town. jan8-tf
J. P. DUFEEY,
MAJfUFACTUBXB AMD DIALER Df
BUGGY AND WAGON HARNESS, SADDLES, BRIDLES, &C.
(Doagherty’e'Old Stand,)
CEDARTOWN, Georgia.
All Work CHUMOtt*! to give eatlsfaction. All ho aaka is a trial, janft-ly
GRANDPA’S BARN.
Oh. a jolly old place is grandpa's bam,
Where the doors stand open throughout
the day.
And the oooing doves fly in and out,
And the air is sweet with the fragrant hay;
Where grain lies over the slippery floor,
And the hens are busily looking around,
And the sunbeams flicker, now here, now
there,
And the breeze blows through with a
merry sound.
The swallows twitter and chirp all day.
With fluttering wingB, in tbe old brown
eaves.
And the robins sing in the trees which lean
To brush the roof with their rustling leaves.
O for the glad vacation time.
When grandpa's bam will echo the shout
Of merry children, who roam and play
In the new-born freedom of school let out,
Such scaring of doves from their eosy nests.
Such hunting for eggs in the lofts so
high,
TT1I the frightened hens, with a cackle
shrill.
From their hidden treasures are fain to
fly.
Oh, the dear old barn, so cool, so wide!
Its doors will open again ere long
To the Summer sunshine, the new-mown
bsy.
And the merry ring of vacation song.
For grandpa's bam is the j oiliest plaoe
For frolic and fun on a Summer’s day ;
And e'en old Time, as the years slip by,
Its memory never can steal away.
Margaret's Money.
“She has five thousand pounds, ” said the
old man, “and she’s a good girl. She’ll be
a catch for somebody.”
Then I thought he looked at me.
“Why should he look at me?” I thought.
“I’m not a husband worth angling for, as
he knows very well, this man who pays
me my small salary every week with his
own hands.
Still he did look at me, and I answered
with a word or two: 1 forget what now.
“Yes,” he said—talking with a meaning,
too, looking at me evidently, to see hew
I took the news, “yes; and what do you
suppose she does with it? Has it locked
up in my fire-proof safe in my fire-proof
vault, don’t use it in any way, don’t get
interest on it; locks it up as she does her
rings and pins and lets it lie never
touched.
“1 wonder you dont give her better ad
vice,” I said.
“Give a woman advice!” he said. “Try
it. However, I approve of this. Better
keep her dowry locked up safe, than risk
and lose it. My fire-proof safe and fire
proof vault will hold her money—the
money her husband is to have the day he
margie* hot fsgf and safe.f
Then the old man trotted away to his
own desk, and looked over it at me.
“I’m her guardian,” he said. “Her
father and I had quarrelled, you know.
But when he died, he left her and her
money in my care. A nice thing far an
old bachelor to have, a young niece quar
tered on him for life! I’ll marry her off
as soon as I cao. I say, Fisher, come
up and take tea with me to-night.”
He did mean it! He offered his niece
and her five thousand pounds to mel He
had Dever liked me either. .
“Shail I go?” I asked myself. “Why
ndt? I might as well see the heiress. I
was not a man to be bought by money, it
she were a coarse, vulgar creature, like her
uncle; but otherwise, why not see what she
was made of? At least it could do no
harm to take tea with old Simon Giddings.
I went home with him that evening. I
noticed some little changes in the parlor,
as though a lady’s hands had been busy
there; and in a moment more I saw, sit
ting in the shadow of the curtains, a girl
dressed in deep mourning.
“Margaret, Mr. Fisher; my niece, Miss
Giddings, Tom,” said the old man; and as
I bowed, I saw a little velvet-headed
crutch leaning against the girl’s chair.
She was lame, then. Old Giddings
thought this was an obstacle to her making
a good match. So he offered her to Tom
Fisher.
“It won’t do, old man,” I thought. “I
shouldn’t mind a plain face so much, but a
lame wife will never do for me.”
Then something whispered faintly in my
ear, “Five thousand pounds!”
For the-rest, Miss Giddings was fair and
sweet-looking, and pleasant in her man-
aer. She was a lady, too, which seemed
odd for old Simon’s niece, for he was as
vulgar as he was rich: and she sang to us
after tea very sweetly.
I liked a girl with dash and color, but
still her blue eyes and sweet smile haunted
me a little after I went home. “She’l
never quarrel with one,” I thought; “and
a women worth five thousand pounds
would be a catch, certainly; but that
crutch! “I’ll stay away from Old Simon’s
house for the future.
But he would not let me stay away; he
kept on urging me to go home with him.
There was Marion More. Perhaps she
liked me a little. I admired her intensely;
but she had no money, and I should take
her away from her snug home to some
poor sort of place if I married her. I
should find it hard work to feed and clothe
her decently.
, This fair, sweet Margaret was rich; and
as time passed on, I began to see her
liking for me. And I sat in the offlce one
day, three months from the time of my
first visit, wondering whether I could be
quite sure that I should be good enough to
the little thing I meant to marry for her
money, to keep her from knowing that there
was no actual tove for her in my heart.
And as I poncered, the voice of old
Simgi reached my ears:—“Tom
Fisher up in the moon again, eh? Well,
well, when a fellow is in love we excuse
laziness in him. There’s my aiece Mar
garet pouring the tea in the slop basin and
oversetting the milk at breakfast. “Mag.
gie,” says 1, “you’re a thinking of some
one, an’t ye? She blushed to her ear*.
You’ve managed to get into good graces In
that quarter, Tom?”
‘Do you think so?” I Mid.
*1 know so,” Mid the old man. “I
oughtn’t to say so, you know, but I’m
frank.”
I listened to him, then two voiees whis
pering to me:
“You don’t love her,” said one. “You
don’t -hate her,” said the other. “You
don’t want a lame wife," said the first.
“You do want live thousand pounds,”
said the other. It would make a man of
you. AYou could go into business on your
own account. You'd cease to be a slave
in this dingy office. ”
“F^ye thousand pounds!” I said to
myse^. Then I started to my feet.
“Sj. Giddings," I said, “would you be
willing to give your rfiece to me as my
wife’”
His answer was frank.
“Tom Fisher, I’d give her to any decent
young man. A girl bothers me; I’m tired
ef thy charge. Every one don’t want a
same. wife. If you like her, take her,
and el your wedding day, I’ll hand the
five ^Rmsand pounds to you, and be rid of
the charge. She’ll say ‘Yes,’ don’t fear.
I’ll teil her that you asked me to-night,
and h’irry on the wedding.
I thought I heard the thump of a crutch
in .'sgZphurch aisle as he spoke. 11 bought
of t ^graceful step of Marion More. 1
turnr I faint, and sat down to my desk;
but iBwent to old Simon’s house that
night, And saw Margaret. She looked as
fair a;fl happy as a child. I sat down by
her ail took her hand.
'A* you going to say ‘No,’ Maggie?” I
said, imd she lifted her innocent lips to
mine, and kissed me. “I’ll he good to
her,”i said to myself. “I’ll be very, very
good to her."
Butfthere was no lover’s warmth in my
heart; only a kind of gentle pity for the
girl who was to bring me five thousand
pounds.
We were engaged. Old Simon joked
us coarsely, and seemed to exult over the
affair. I might even have doubted of the
existence of the five thousand pounds, but
that Mnzgie told me of them herself.
“Uncle was keeping them for me to live
on, when 1 was an old maid," she Said.
“But jou shall do what you choose with
the money when I belong to you. We’ll
buy a irctty house, shan’t we dear, first of
all, an' live there all our lives; somewhere
where,we can have a garden?”
So, e after that, I never doubted, but
clung o the idea as I could not if 1 had
loved he girl.
We .vere married in'a fortnight. Uncle
k j: Imd his old house keeper alone were
presen . It had touched me a good deal
when Margaret had whispered that she
had rr.lher not have a wedding party.
“Fq'ley the bride limping up the aisle
upon A cratch!” she said. “Let me he
marrief>with none to stare at me. You
ion*!# so-Ittea'd-oea afeoaUMcg issse
any more, hut I’d rather not be stared at.”
1 took her in my arms and kissed her
then.
“I’ll he good to her, - ’ I said, as the
clergyman uttered his prayer,—‘very, very
good;” and I was saying it again when I
at with my wife ih old Simon’s parlor in
he twilight, and he coming in, lit the gas,
and stood twinkling his eyes at us malic
iously.
“So it’s over,” he said, with his fiendish
chuckle. “She’s yours now for her five
thousand pounds. I'm going to hand il
ovar to night. I shall sleep better. ”
I blushed with shame. “Not yet,” I
said; “don’t talk of money yet!”
“No?” said Simon. “But I wlH'though.
I’ve got it here.” And he unlocked a side
board which stood in the room, and brought
out a small roll doue up oddly enough in
brown paper. There it is,” said he,—
“there it is! Look at it—count it. Five
thousand plump—couut it. ”
He fairly grinned as he spoke. She
smiled.
I saw something in his laugh that made
me shudder. Without a word more I
walked to the table, opened the parcel and
spread out the notes. There were five
thousand pounds worth of them, reading the
value on their faces, but they were the
notes of the Diddleton and Bilkem Bank,
which had failed years ago!
I had been deceived. The girl I had
married was penniless!
“Impostor!”! yelled. Old Simon an
swered with a roar of laughter.
“Good joke, ” he said. “I’ve done what
I promised. You’ve get the five thousand;
I didn’t tell you what it was m. Of course
such money is of no use to you, but 1 can’t
help that. Ha! ba!”
I think I should have given him a blow,
but just then I heard Margaret scream. I
looked at her. I saw, as I had known
before, that she had no hand in the decep
tion. I saw an awful look in her eyes, a
doubt of my love trembling on her lip. 1
saw her rise and falter on her poor feet,
and stretch her hands towards me. I
heard her cry, “Thomas, I did not know;”
and then—oh, thank God for it—the love
I had never felt before rushed into my
heart—a great, all-conquering love.
1 ran to her. I took her in my arms. I
gave her the first kiss of passionate and
new-born love, and I said, “Margaret, try
to hear poverty with me, for I love you
better than my souk”
And all Margaret’t money—the ifioney
that had faded before me like fairy gold—
could never have given me half the joy
that the wealth of love, given to and re
ceived from her, gave me upon our bridal
day—gave me in all the first straggling
years of our wedded life, and will give me,
God grant it^mtiHh^end^^^
Tbe Crown Prince of Germany.
The Crown Prince of Germany, on ar
riving at Kottbus the other day, observed
an old acquaintance in thecrowd assembled
to greet him. To the surprise of all, the
Prince went straight up to his humble
friend, and shook him cordially by tbe
hand; then, turning to the wondering as
sembly, in a clear, loud voice said, “I In
troduce my drill-master to you; this nftn
educated me.” The object of this flattering
demonstration was moved to tears. The
Prince turned again to him and conversed
with him for some minutes, asking him if
he had a son. “Yes,” rejoined the man,
“in the Body Guards.” The Prince nodded
and smilingly added, “Ah! yea; our
children are out-growing us; my own son
his a sompany already!”
Woodcock.
Bogardus, in his work on “Field, Cover
and Trap Shooting,” says that to make a
good bag of woodcock is a feat the sports
man may well be proud of. To meet with
success in woodcock shooting, one must
be an excellent snap shot and possess a
tireless nerve and muscular organization.
Besides, he must be familiar with the hab
its of the bird. To an experienced eye,
woodcock ground is easily recognized.
This dainty little bird is an epicurean in
its habits, and a voracious feeder. The
fat, angle and other worms which inhabit
the rich, soft and wet ground, are consid
ered by the woodcock as the most dainty
morsels, and form its sole diet Among
the lowland and marshy places where the
ground is soft and loamy, the woodcock
loves to dwell. It is nocturnal in its hab
its, spending its nights in feasting, and
then at the break of dawn retires to a
favorite retreat among the willows or tan
gled underbrush, and gently dreams the
daylight hours away. It is a hard bird to
find, and a sportsman without a staunch
dog with a good nose, may almost tramp a on
bird before it takes to its wings, and it is
seldom seen until it flies. Occasionally the
sharp eye of an experienced sportsman
catches sight of a bird in its day retreat.
The woodcock obtains its food by means
of its long-pointed bill with which nature has
furnished it, and on account of its resem
blance to the snipe it is often mistaken for
this bird by farmers who occasionally flush
it while making fours through the marshy
portions of their estates. The bird while
searching fc-r food, probes his bill deep
into the mucky spots where worms are
plenty, and his sensitive prober soon de
tects the presence (f the wood
cock’s tempting morsel. For hunting
woodcock a dog is almost absolutely neces
sary. Man does not like to penetrate the
marshy places and spots overgrown with
briars and tall weeds, where the bird is
found, to raise him from his hiding place,
and not having the necessary olfactory re
quisites to detect tile presence of the bird
by scent may walk within a step of his in
tended victim without flushing him. On
account of its tender feet and hide, it is al
most wicked to use a pointer in woodcock
shooting among the marshes, though in
hunting the bird late in the season among
the corn fields, a staunch pointer is used to
good advantage. For general woodcock
shooting the setter is much used. His coat
of long hair and feathered feet protect him
from the cutting swamp grass and poison
ous briars, but the thoroughbred Sussex and
St. Charles cockers are fast growing in pop
ularity for cover shooting. They are merry
and attire workers, and when propqply
broken and handled afford the shooter ex
cellent sport.
Generally speaking the woodcock is a
hard bird to hit. Josh Billings, in an ar
ticle on birds, says of the woodcock that
the first that is seen of the bird is a “whiz,
and the last we see is a whirr." In shoot
ing among the saplings the shooter muBt
follow the dog and take his chances with
snap shots. In low underbrush and later
in the season among tbe corn fields, some
open shots are obtained. The uncertain
flight of the woodcock as he rises in his
zig-zue flight tends to distract the aim of
the zhooter, and tbe success of the novice
is virr-uwertaln: ,
A Naval Horror.
A Main* farmer and Flahemen
The Chilian transport Loa, purchased nt
the commencement of the present war, was
blown up in Callao bay on the 3d of July.
The affair qaused great excitement in Lima
and much gratification among the Peru
vians. The plan was a diabolical one.
From the time the Chilian fleet had been
on the coast of Peru it has been noticed
that the officers and men were particularly
partial to fru ts and vegetables, not being
always careful to distinguish between the
market boat of a neutral merchant vessel
and the coasting boat of a Peruvian. This
fact impressed itself on a Peruvian officer,
and at last he hit on a plan to turn it to
some practical account He took an ordi
nary fruit boat, put a torpedo in the bot
tom and over this he placed a false bottom
resting on springs, kept down by the weight
of the cargo, tie then loaded it with a
very choice assortment of camates, yucas,
chirimoyas, granadillas, fowls and turkeys,
green vegetables, etc., etc., and towing it
out towards the blockading squadron be
fore daylight set it adrift. All day long
that launch floated about, but the Chilians
could not see it, until about five o’clock in
the evening, fearing it would fall into neu
tral hands, a boat was sent out to bring it
back. The Loa was doing duty, and see
ing the boat from the shore making to
wards the neutral vessel caught sight of
the launch and at once turned towards it.
Seeing this the boat from shore beat a hasty
retreat. The Loa lowered two boats to
bring in the prize, and it was brought
alongside and the discharge at once com
menced. As the weight in the launch was
diminished the machinery in connection
with the torpedoes was set free and in a
moment three hundred pounds of dynamite
were exploded and the Loa was almost
lifted out of the water. The effect, as
described by those who were watching the
operation witli breathless interest from the
shore, was awful in the extreme. Every
house in Callao was shaken to its founda
tion and every ship in the bay shivered as
though a fearful earthquake had spent its
fury beneath them. The fated ship ap
peared as enveloped in one mass of flame,
which lesolved itself into dense clouds of
black smoke. When this cleared away she
seemed not to have suffered; but suddenly
she was observed to sink at the stern, while
her bows went high in the air, and the Loa
disappeared forever.
Perils of the London Streets.
It has been calculated that the yearly
average of persons killed by accidents In
the streets of London is greater than the
annual total of persons massacred on all
the railways of the United Kingdom. Du
ring the last decade of the victims of the
thoroughfares the metropolis have
reached au aggregate of 2195, while in 28,-
071 cases more or less injuries have been
inflicted. These statistics are startling,
and they signify in reality more than at
first appears. Only the known injuries
are enumerated under the published cate
gories. There is a considerable percentage
of casualties which does not find its way
into print, and when it is said last year the
killed and wounded in the London streets
amounted to 234 and 3699 respectively, it
must be remembered that the estimate is
reduced to a minimum. The allowance of
unascertained accidents may be calculated
upon as that of undetected murders. Alarm
ing as these figures seem, there is nothing
surprising in them when one recollects
what are the facts and what the
perils of the case. A population of 4,000,-
000; streets traversed hy perpetual streams
and blocked by constant congestions of
traffic -the’number of vehicles ol different
kinds which daily pass up and down Ox
ford streets is computed at 11,891; tho
roughfares often absurdly inadequate let
the exigencies of the present day; foot-
passengers in swarms, frequently indiffer
ent to all considerations of porsonal safety;
drivers of every variety of caution and
reckieo-iess-these are the chief featuree of
the situation.
It was the islander who was both farmer
and fisherman, as a person uniting in him
self the two most ancient and honorable
professions, that aroused in Middleton the
principal interest. Such a one could not
take the trips of two to three weeks with
the seiuers of the coast fleet; still less could
he go the long voyages of the bankers, to the
bays of L’Escaut and Chaleurs, to Green
land and even as sometimes happens, to
the coast of Iceland, for fre3h halibut,
where they join the fleets of Northern
France, the .Netherlands, and tho Scandi
navians. He must attrmd the lobster-traps;
set weirs for herring, menhaden, alewives,
and m ackerel; keep drag nets and trawls;
perhaps, if favorably located, make a
a specialty of supplying bait to the fleet,
which, now that it must be kept iced, is
often in great straits for it. Between times
he runs to she for a day or two in his
cat-boat, his “Hampton boat,” or his
jigger. The cat boat, it appeared, was
the better sailor, since the more canvas in
a single sail, the closer into the wind; but
the Hampton boat—a modified pink stern,
with shoulder-of-mutton Mils on its small
masts—was the “abler,” that is to say,
better qualified to stand the exigencies of
ai Isorlu of weather. The jigger, however,
a amall schooner of perhaps forty feet long
by ten feet beam, with a considerable bold,
and a cabin with four bunks, a table, and
a rusty sheet-irou stove for
ward, seemed the most available for general
purposes, whether for taking a haul of fish,
‘smacking" a load of lobsters, wood, or
ice, or hawking a load of apples at retail
from port to port, where they were a
rarity.
A professional “dragger” carried nearly
a mile of nets. They were straight and
not very deep. The fish was meshed in
them by the gills. Thus by the regulation
of the size of mesh only picked fish need
be taken, while the great purse seines of
the fleet take everthing, destroy at every
haul a value nearly equal to what is ^aved,
and tend toward rapid extinction of the
fish, as Middleton was told, besides having
already reduced the average size.
The trawl was another engine of formid
able havoc, against which there was equal
complaint. It ie the method in use among
the bankers, except on George’s, where
the tide runs too swift for anything but ly
ing to an anchor, and hand-lining over the
side. The purse seine and the trawl are
the twometliods of taking fish par excel
lence, the Hr- er for the mackere', the
atter for all iheo:k rsof giaat sizeer When
Middleton saw a trawl, he found that it
was a long cord with hundreds of baited
books fixed at intervals along it. It was
sunk so as to rest on the bottom, buoyed
at both ends, aud left there. A trawler
kept great numbers of these lines neatly
coiled in tubs, and set them one after
another. After a sufficient lapse of time,
he went back to the first, and “underran”
it, that is drew up one end, passed it over
his boat, taking off the fish, and baiting
the hooks anew, and paid it out at ons
side as he took it in at the other. The
method pursued by the bankers was to
carry twelve or "fourteen dories, which
were put out when tho fishing ground was
arrived at, with two men in each,provided
with tabs of trawls at discretion.
It was the suu-cu ed .salt-fish that, was
the favorite article of diet in the islanders’
households, while very little account was
made of the fresh. The young people had
some merry customs of their own with it.
They represented that if a certain particu
larly salt strip in the centre cal.ed the
dream "line,” were eaten before going to
bed, the girl or the young man one was to
marry would be indicated by appearing in
a vision and banding him or her a glass of
water.
Hreafcinx A Chain.
“You will have to open tnc shop 1 his
morning, Lucia, and take care of it the
best you can,” called my father from the
next room, “for my head is aching so that
I shall be unable to leave my bed to-day.
I was quite a little girl then, not more
than eleven years old, but as father and I
were alone and there was no cne else to per
form the task, I arose cheerfully, Bhivered
into my clothes—for it was bitter cold and
quite early-and hastened down stairs.
Broom in hand for the purpose of sweep
ing off the side sidewalk first, I proceeded
to throw open the front door, but only, to
draw back, with a faint cry of terror and
surprise.
Crouching behind the friendly shadow
of a large packing-box, standing at one
side of the doorway, was a lad, apparently
about twelve or fourteen, a pool, ragged
creature, with hollow checks aud a haunted
look in his dark-blue eyes that lived hi my
memory for many a day afterward.
“Please, please, don’t cry out, or call any
one!” he entreated ina low, pleading voice.
“They’ll surely take me again, and I don’t
want to go back.”
“Don’t wantto go back where?” I asked,
growing courageous and taking a step
nearer him.
For answer he pointed to a heavy ba 11
and chain attached to one of his ankles.
In those days—for the time of which I
write was long ago—it was customary to
at tach a weight of some kind to the legs of
convicts in order to prevent them from
going very far in case they should attempt
to escape; so I at once understood that he
had broken away from the town jail.
“I was arrested for stealing a meat-pie
and they treated me so bad at the jail. ”
he said with a dry sob that went straight
to my heart, “that—that—"
“You Tan away, poor boy! Come in, and
I’ll hide you safely awav. ”
Together, and with much difficulty in pre
venting the chain from rattling which
would betray his presence to my father,
we succeeded in creeping down to the back
cellar. There I left him, well satisfied
with mymorning’s work.
A little while after, I carried him a liowl
of steaming coffee. &Dd a slice of bread,
which he swallowed to my great satisfac
tion, with a decided relish.
1 say, sis,” he whispered, as I turned
to leave, “if I had had a good strong file,
I could get this ’ere chain off, and then I’d
be all right.”
' ’I will bring you not only a file, but a
good suit of clothes that belonged to my
brother tbat'B dead, and an old rad wig from
the garret, to disguise you with, ’ I an
swered “on one condition only.”
“What is it?” he asked, eying me curious
ly-
“Only this, that you give me your
solemn promise never to steal again, no
matter how poor or hHngry you may be,
and to try and become a good and respect
able boy.”
A. flash of brightness, visible even in the
dim light that struggled through the narrow
cellar-window, passed over his wan fea
tures, and kneeling down before me, he
caught one of my hands, and bending over
it, slowly breathed the required pledge.
For three days, during which time,
fortunately for my project, my father kept
bis room, the poor fugitive remained in hia
dingy retreat. Then when night came on,
and I well knew the one constable our town
boasted was snoring comfortab f between
hia blankets, I softly opened the back door,
and let John Ray as he called himself, out
into the darkness.
Freed from his fetters, and arrayed in
the nice suit I had given him, he looked
so respectable, even handsome, that I felt
he never would be recogijhed, and, that
he might not want for ready cash to assist
him on his way I pressed a long treasured
gold piece of my own in his hand, as we
parted in sober silence in the shadowy
doorway.
Twelve years came and went. Misfor
tune meanwhile had visited us in several
ways
One wintry night onr little Bhop and all
it contained, together with cur household
goods, was consumed by fire. Later my
father's eyesight failed him, and hoping to
better our condition, we moved to New
York.
But we soon found out that the great
city was already over-crowded with work
ers, and in a little while we became
poorer than we had ever been before.
Hearing one day that a wealthy gentle
man, who was about to make a long joifr-
ney, wanting a respectable person te care
for his house during his absence, I hastened
to apply for the situation.
I found him at hia office—a handsome,
kindly-featured man, seeming but a few
years older than myself.
“Have you references?” he asked, on
my stating my business.
I produced a written paper, which oar
good minister had given me before I left
the home of my childhood.
A flush of pleasure overspread his hand
some feature* as he read it.
“You do not recognize me, I **e,” he
remarked.
I certainly did not, and said so.
“And you must remember John Ray?”
I shook my head. In the many troubles
that had come upon us, the memory of the
couvict boy I once assisted passed entirely
away.
“If you have forgotten me, Lucia Sum
mers, ” he returned, taking a small shining
gold-piece from his watch chain, “perhaps
you may remember this, the coin you gave
me one dark night twelve years ago. I
had no occasion to spend it then,” he went
on, ‘‘for I found work almost immediately,
and, since, I have kept it as a talisman
against temptation and a reminder of the
promise I made you.”
“And why did you never let me hear
from you?” I asked.
1 wrote to you once, but received no re
ply, and two months ago, when I found
myself the junior member of the firm whom
I had served so long, I went to your town
to look for you but you had gone no
one knew whither.
John Ray, prosperous and happy, went
on his intended journey, but not alone;
for we were married soon after, and I ac
companied him, and my father also, for
the purpose of having his eyes attended to
by a celebrated French doctor.
When his sight was fully restored, we
came back to reside in the beautiful home
which had come to us all through my timely
aid in “Breaking a Chain.”
Scene in » Xevad* Coart-Room.
Billy Brown, a lad ot ten, waa put on the
stand and questioned.
The court—“Did you ever take an
oath?”
Boy (positively!—“No, sir; I never took
anything in my life.”
Mr. Hines ^facetiously)—“What I nev
er f”
The spectators tittered, and the court,
as mad as a hornet, called them to order,
remarking: “I want mighty little of this
‘Pinafore’ business in my court.” Just
then the daughter of the court, on the floor
above, was heard to disturb a piano and
sing. “I’m called little Buttercup, dearlit-
tle Buttercup.” Another laugh followe •
this incident, and the court sent a constable
up staire to make the merry maiden stop
her vocal and instrumental exercises.
“Shut that girl off at once,” was the
parting injunction from the bench.
The youthful witness was finaliv allow,
ed to testify without being sworn.
“You see,” he began, “I heard a racket
and went out. The woman was chuckin’
bricks aud cussin’ like thunder, and the
boys was runnin’ about the yard. The
night before I went down town,”
District Attorney—“Never mind about
that.”
Witness—“Well I did go down town.
(I can prove it by Patsey over there.” To
Patsey)—“Didn’t we go down town Pat
sey?”
Here the room was called to order again,
and the boy put off the stand.
The Wooden Hat.
Somewhere about the year 1780, a trav
eling mill-wright, footsore, and with the
broadest northern Doric accent, stopped at
Soho, at the engine factory of Boulton ft
Watt, and asked fur work. His aspect was
a little better than one of beggary and poor
looks, and Boulton had bidden him God
speed to some other shop, when, as he
was turning away sorrowfully, Boulton
suddenly called him back.
“What kind of a hat’s yon, ye have on
your head me mon?”
“It’s just timmer, sir."
“Tlmmer, me mon; let’s look it it.
Where did ye get it?”
“I just made it, sir, my ainsel.”
“How did you make it?”
“I just turned it in the lathie.”
“But it’s oval, mon, and the lathie turns
things round. ”
“A weel! I just gar’d the lathie gang
anither gait, to please me, and I thocht to
have a hat to keep out water, and I hadna’
muckle siller to spare and I made me
ane.”
By his inborn mechanism the man had
invented an oval lathe, and made his hat,
and the hat made his fortune. Boulton
was not the man to lose so valuable a help,
thus the after famous William Murdock—
the originator of locomotives and lighting
by gas—took suit and service under Boul
ton ft Watt, and in 1784 made the first
vehicle impelled by steam in England, and
with the very hands and brain-cunning that
had produced the “timmer hat. ”
Fair flay.
Once, when I was returning from Ireland
(says Rowland Hill), I found myself an
noyed by the reprobate conduct of the
captain and mate, who were both sadly
given to the scandalous habit of swearing.
First, the captain swore at the mate; then
the mate swore at the captain; then they
swore at the wind, when I called out to
them for fair play.
“Stop! stop!” said I, “if you please gen
tlemen, it is my turn now.”
‘Ah, what is your turn, pray?” said the
captain.
“At sweating," I replied.
Well, they waited and waited, until their
patience was exhausted, and then wanted
me to make haste and take my torn. I
told them, however, that I had a right to
take my own time; and swear at my own
convenience.
To this, the captain replied with a laugh,
“Perhaps you dont mean to take your
torn?”
“Pardon me captain,” I answered, “but
I do, as scon as I can find the good of
doing so."
I did not hear another oath on the Toy-