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IPublis hed every Thursday by D. b. FREEMAN,
OLD SERES- -VOL. X NO 2.
CEDARTOwN. GA,.MARCH 22. J883
IS EW SERIES-VOL. V-NO. 15.
AN UNFINISHED POEM BY BRY
ANT. I
on hia arm. as she said:
•“God bless you, Mr. March.’
> “And then I went off to look for Jim,
Tbe reader of Mr. Bryont a poems will read!-1
ly remember tne many verses addressed to his j ,, .. . ,,
wife, such as “ Oh Fairest of the Kural 1 found him the other side of the
a two-gallon can of kerosene
the union of their sp'rits in the world to come; “ “ I8
the “jrJck-Bod,” describinsr an Illness; “ The j ‘ ‘You see,’ he said, as I asked ratn-
J lfe Thut Is.” rejoici ng In recovery: “The or sharnlv where hn'H bppn •Tf»’n crit
Twrnty-si’venth of March,” the birthday of ! ar P 1 J T™ ere . a De ® n ’ f. c n S 11
Mrs. iiryant: “October, i8aa.” descriptive of i tais a good deal cheaper here than at
tier death and burial; and “May Evening," aj Fairtown, an’ my wife thinks it’s asi^ht
gentle reference to her loss. But in addition! better too
to these, as we learn from Mr. Godwin’s forth-
com ng biography of the poet, a fragment was
found among his papers, which recalls her
memory In a very tender way. seven years
after her death. The linos we«-e unfinished
and uncorrected; but we cannot refrain from
g ring them as they were written—dated “R03-
iyn, 1876;”
•«. Tbe morn hath not the glory that it wore,
Nor doth the day so beautifully die,
Since 1 can call thee to my side no more,
To gaze upon the sky.
Tor thy dear hand, with each return of spring,
1 sought in sunny nooks the dowers she
Iscek & cm’still, and sorrowfully bring v
The choicest to thy grave.
Here, where 1 sit alone, is sometimes hear
From the great world, a wJaisper of
haply, to
..ora, : .
By those whose praise is fame.
And then, as if I thought thou still wert nigh,
1 turn mo, half forgetting thou art dead,
To rend the gentle gladness in thine eye
That once 1 might have read.
I turn, but see thee not: before my eyes
The image of a bill-side mound appears
Where all of thee that passed not to the skies
Was laid with bitter tears.
And I, whose thoughts go back to happier
days
That tied with thee, would gladly now resign
AI1 that the world can give of fame and praise
For one sweet look of thine.
Thus, ever, when I read of generous deeds,
Euch words as thou did3t one© delight
hear.
My heart is wrung with anguish as it bleeds
To think thou art not near.
And now that I can talk no more with thee
/Of ancient friends and days too fair to last,
A b tterness blend? wiih the memory
Of ull that happy post.
Oh, when I %
—Century Magazine.
THE ENGINEER’S STORT.
Business had brought me to the little
town of I) , among the New TTnmp-
ehire hills, and here, much aga'ust my
w.ll. I was dcta : ned for several days,
wh le waiting for instructions from iny
employers. The nearest periodical
store was twelve miles away, and, with
out books or papers, time hung heavy
on my hands.
The only break in my monotonous
life was the arrival of the trains twice :
day, and in the d.ad calm of my exist
once this little ripple of exe'tement be
came as much to me as the opera uhder
more fa orable circumstances. It was
While lounging upon the platform that
3 became acquainted with George Sea-
forlh, engineer on the B. C. & M. Rail
road. He was a man about thirty-five
years of age. Not what would be called
an educated man. but sensible and
clear-headed. His home was in Con
cord, where he had a wife and two chit
dren. He ran from Concord to D ,
and for two hours, while waiting for
the ‘down train,’’ he was in If .
The acquaintance, at first begun to
while away an iaie hour, on my^pa t.
at leasts grow to a strong liking, and to
day there is no one among my acquaint
ances for whom I feel a greater respect
and esteem than for George Seaforth.
. He had been on the cars since he was
sixteen, first as train-toy, then as brake-
man, fireman, and for the last ten years
as engineer.
“You must have had some strange
adventures in that time.” I said one
day, as we sat upon the platform of the
little station, waiting for the train.
‘“ trange adventures'” he repeated,
taking his pipe from his mouth, and
looking meditatively across the g een
felds. “Strange adventures! You may
well say that, sir. We train men are
always having adventures.”
“Suppo : e you tell me some of them,
1 suggested.
“Weil,” looking at his watch, “as
there’s plenty of time, I don’t mind tell-
ing you of one queer one I had six years
ago, come tall, though I don’t often
speak of it; for you see when a man’s
been face to face with death, he can’t
talk of it very well.”
I settled myself on the rough bench
that did duty as a chair, as comfortably
as I could, iook a fresh cigar, and he
began:
_ “It happened in tnis way. 1 was run
ning the old Lion from Lee to Fairtown.
If you know anything about New En
gland, you^know that September’s a
gro t month for fairs, and this particu
lar September was no exception to the
general rule. We had lots of extra
work to do, but, as wo had extra pay,
there was no grumbl-ng. It was toward
the last of the month that the fair at
M came off. Two or three extras
were put on, timed so as to run between
the regular trains. Jim Turner fire 1 for
me then. Jim was as good a fellow as
over lived, with but one fault—he
would go off on ‘a time’ once in a
while. He didn’t do it very oflcn. and
as he’d do more work than any other
man on the road, the company kept
him. But Jim had been pretty sober
lately. I believe he hadn't drunk any
thing for as much as s'x months; so I
k:na of got out of the habit of watching
h:m, ana he wentomd came pretty much
as he chose.
. “Well, we got along all right this
time, till a’most night we stopped at
H for wood and water. While wo
were waiting, March, the depot-master,
came along, and says he: •Seaforth, I
want you to do me a favor.”
“‘What is it?”’ says I, for March
and I were pretty good friends.
“‘Well,’ says he, ‘there’s a vonnr
woman here who wants to go to Fair-
town, and she hasn’t a cent of money.
She came here to get work, and she’s
lost her pocket-book, and hasn’t any
way to get back home. I don’t feel at
liberty to pass her over the road,
(they’d been making a row about free
-passes), and she a”n’t the kind that
you’d feel like offering money to. So
I thought may be you’d let her ride on
the engine.’
“Well, I didn’t like to refuse March,
for. as I said before, he and I were
good friends, and he had done me
many a good turn; but 1 must say the
idea of having a woman in the cab til
the way to Fairtown wa’n’t very
£ leasant, and I said so to March, but
e was bound to have her go, and said
ao much that I finally told him to bring
hir along. She came ont upon the
J ilatform, a little, pale-faced thiug, who
ooked at me with great, frigh ened
eyes, as though she thought I was a
hear, and would eat her up as soon as
we left tne station. March introdu ed
her as Miss Lord, and seemed to ex
pect me to say something to make hear 1
feel at home, but I was all out of soitv
and I only nodded in a surly sort of
way. I saw the tears come into her
eyes, and you better believe I felt Hwl
of mean, but I didn't sa-
_ and March helped her on
Well, come along,’ I said, ‘for
we’re two minutes behind time now.
“ When we got back to the engine
March had gone, and Mis3 Lord sat there
alone.
Jim stared, but I said:
“ • This young woman’s going to ride
on the engine to Fairtown. She is a
friend of ivr. March.’ So he put down
his kerosene, and took his place on the
cab.
“Iheard the conductor's • All aboard,
and then we were off.
“I was busj with levers and valves,
for a man who drives a train holds the
lives of hundreds in his hand, and one
careless motion may send them ail into
eternity. So you see X hadn’t much
time to think of anything but niy ma
chine, but I noticed that Jim was
pretty talkative. At first I thought
it was because we nau a woman
aboard, but by and by I began
to suspect it was something worse
than that. His voice grew thick
and his movements uncertain, and at
last 1 could no longer hide from myself
the fact that he had been drinking.
Still I anticipated no trouble. We
were already more than iia'f way to
Fairtown, and I thought he would keep
up till we got there.
“At A the station master handed
the conductor a telegram. He read it,
and then handed it to ice. It ordered
us to go on to N to meet the special.
1 had expected to stop at the next sta
tion, and N was ten miles beyond,
but orders are orders and mist
1 e obeye I. So 1 told Jim to pile
on the wood, and I put on all the steam
1 dared, and we went spinning over the
road at a rate that must have astonished
the passengers.
“We had gone a little more than half
way, and I was beginning to think wo
mi/ht make the distance without much
trouble, when Jim sat right down on
the floor of the cab, and began to
whimper.
“ ‘ Get up, you fool, and go to work,’
I cried.
I can’t,’ he whimpered. ‘I'm
tired, an’ mus' go er sleep.’
“‘Get up, you rascal!’ 1 shouted.
•Don’t you know we’ve got to get to
N in ten minutes, or meet the
special tra : n?’
“‘I can’t help it; let ther ol’ train
come. I tell ye I’m tired. Now, look
here, Seaforth',’ nodding his head with
drunken gravity. ‘You’re workin’
too hard. Why, man, yon won’t
live out half your days, if you don’t
take some rest. 1 tellye what’t is you'd
better take things easy. I'm goin’ to,
anyway.’
“And he laid down on the Boor of the
cab, and shut his eyes, mutter ng:
•Take it easy. easy. Jim’U take it easy.’
“1 suppose I must have acted like a
wild man, for I knew that before I could
let the conductor know the fix that we
were in, and get help, it would be too
late to save the train, and I’m afraid I
used some pretty strong words, as a
man is apt to when he gets in a tic-lit
place. Not that the words help him out
of it. I suppose they only let off some
of the extra steam, and make him think
quicker. So I stormed away there, all
the time trying to do my work ,.nd
Jim’s, and knowing ever moment that
we were losing ground. The steam was
going down, and the engine slowing up,
spite of all I could do.
“1 tell you,” and he passed his hand
o er his forehead, “ it makes the sweat
start on me now, when I think of that
run. It seems to me that I lived a life
time in those few minutes. It’s an
awful thing to have so many lives de
pending on you. In the cars behin i me
were hundreds of human be'ngs, and
the other train had hundreds more, and
only a step between them and eternity.
All this time, the girl M-irch had put on
the engine had been sitting perfectly
still, watching everything that went on,
and now, when everything seemed lost,
she threw off her shawl, and stepped in
to Jim’s place, saying qu’etly:
“ Til take that man’s place, Mr.
Seaforth.’
“ ‘You? r and I looked at the slight,
almost girlish, figure in astonishment.
“ ‘Yes,’ she said. T am stronger
than I look, and I’ve been watching toe
man. so I know 1 can do his work. 1 '
“It was a forlorn hope, bnt our only
one, and. after one brief moment of
hesitation, I said:
‘ ‘Very well, you can but try, and if
you fail’—
“I did not finish the sentence, for, at
the thought of failure, the terrible pict
ure of mangled, bleeding bodies,
crushed out of all semblance of human
ity, rose be'ore me, and 1 turned away
with a groan. A slight shudder passed
over tbe giri, and she seemed to grow
>aler, but, without a word, she took
ler place, throwing on the wood as I
directed, and doing so well, that, spite
of my anxiety, I could not but notice
the dexterity with which she handled
heavy sticks. The strength of a half-a-
dozen men seemed concentrated in her
slender arms, bnt, spite of her efforts,
we hardly seemed to gain ground.
“ I looked at my watch, and fairly
groaned alond as 1 saw that it wanted
ten minutes of six, and at six we were
expected to pass the extra at N
There was no time to pot back, and no
chance to stop till we reached N
There was nothing for us to do but
to go straight on, though I felt that we
were going to destruction. As the hands
of the watch crept round, telling off the
minutes. I watched them with a sort of
fasaiaatien. tertian «* tbonefa I wen
turning to stone. Well, if you’ll believe
me, that girl, instead of making a row,
as most women would have done, never
said a single word, though she seemed,
to know just how things were going,
but, after one look at my face—and X
suppose I most have looked pretty bad
—almost by inspiration it seemed to me.
she did one of those things a man would
never have thought of. Right beh nd
her was the til-can Jim had got at
1 . With a steady hand she lifted
the heavy can, and poured halt its con
tents on the wood, then she threw the
wood upon the fire, and it blazed np
with a quick, fierce heat, that sent th:
engine flying over the rails at a rate
that fairly made one dizzy. Still she
piled on th? tiled wood, and still we w. nt
on faster, and faster. Tbe train rocked
from side to side, and. the engine
seemed hardly to touch the rails. I
’ at mv watch, and then an iouslv
direction of N ‘ It wanted
“-‘It’s of no use,’ I said. ‘We can’t
get there, and we’ve all the steam wn
can safely carry now.’
“ ‘Are yon sure it Won’t bear any
more? 1 she asked, anxiously.
“I shook my head.
“ ‘I’m afraid not,’ I said.
“ ‘Bnt it is possible that it may!” she
asked again.
“ ‘Yes,-possible; but not probable,’ I
answered.
. “She asked the questions, ins. calm,
even voice, and 1 think I answered in
mnch the same tone, for,, now that the
danger I had feared Was really upon us,
1 seemed to have lost all fear, and I
watched the line of smoke nearing us
so fast with a sort of vague wonder as
to what the engineer of the other train
would do when he saw ns coming, too
late to save his train. I was roused
from this sort of stupor into which 1
seemed in danger of falling, by seeing-
tbe g’ri again reach for the oil-can. I
shook my head.
‘“It won’t do,’ I said. ‘It may be
death.’
“ ‘But,’ she said, *it is death if I
don't.’
“I nodded, and, without a
word, she poured the remainder
of the oil upon the wood, and threw
it into the fire. We were
close to the station now. and I could see
people running across the platform, and
hear the women scream as they saw our
danger; for right in front of us was the
extra, so near that it seemed as if noth
ing but a miracle could save us. I
looked at Miss Lord. With that last ef
fort her strength seemed to leave her,
and she sank upon the seat, covering
her face with her bands, waiting for the
death that seemed so near.
“There was a moment of awfu’ sus
pense, and then we were safe upon the
side track, just as the e tra train went
thundering by, so near that scarcely an
inch separated the engine from the
hindmost car. The brakes were put
on, and the long line of cars came to a
stand still just beyond the station, and
then slowly ran back to where the
crowd of alarmed and curious men
stood watching us. At the shrill sound
of the escaping steam. Miss Lord raised
her head, and looked anxiously around,
then, seeming to rca'ize that we were
safe, she tried to say something, but
the words died awav in a murmnr, and
the next moment she fell on the floor
of tbe cab like a dead woman. Bnt be
fore I cou'd call any one to help her, for
I was pretty well shaken myself, one
of the directors, who was on the train,
came along in a fearful passion. He
wanted to now what I meant by inn,
ning the risk that 1 had done.
“Haven’t yon any brains? and don’t
yon care any more for human life than
a donkey?’ ho blnslere l.
“1 handed him the telegram I had
received at A . and which, fortu
nately for myself, i baa pnt into my
colored forgiveness.
Raising Poultry for the Market.
[LittlsltiKk Gazette.|
The forgiving spirit of the colored peo
ple is a distinctive character of that race.
The moot violent animosities may be
cooled by the wave of the fan of conces
sion, and the hottest fire of hatred can
.be extinguished by a drop of the milk of
human kindness. Sandy Horn, a colored
man known in the neighborhood as Buck
Botn, sometime ago met the wife of one-
eyed Nicholas. Mrs. One-eyed Nicholas
was a “likely ’oman,” hut her attraction
at least for Buck Horn consisted in a lack
rather than in the abundance of the Mrs.
Caesar material. Buck Horn hung
around Nicholas’ house while the old
man was away. Finally he and Mrs. One-
eyed Nicholas ran away and came to Lit
tle Bock and opened a kind of boiled-
cabbage eating-house. For tho first few
days after the elopement old Nicholas
surrendered himself to grief. ‘Tse toet
de ’oman ob my bosom,” he said. “De
debil hah tuck de rib what God had gin
me.” At last the old man threw aside
his grief and meditated revenge. He
took an oath he would kill Buck Horn.
•Tse nebber gone back on a oath,” he
said to a neighbor, “an’ when I meets
Buck Horn he mils’ die de death ob de
ungodly. Happy will be de time when I
sets de soles of my feet in dat ’onory
man’s blood.” Next day old Nicholas
came to the city. He brought a pistol
and a briar hook with him. Ascertain
ing the locality of his mortal enemy, he
went tothe house, and, without revealing
his identity, was admitted by a boarder.
Seated on a bench, he awaited the appear
ance of Back Horn. After a while the
man came. Nicholes sprang np, shat
the door and locked it.
’“Face ter face wid de debil,” ex-
claimed Nicholas, cocking his pistol, and
raising the briar hook. “I liab swor ter
take yer life, an’ fore de Lord Tse agwine
ter do hit”
“Look heah, Nick,” said Buck Horn,
“guv a man some sorter show.”
‘Nick, I doan want no truck wid yer. ”
“In de name of de chnrchl stermin
ates dis sinner.” The old man leveled
his pistoL
“Nick, doan yon remember dat Ken
tucky whisky, we drunk dat day at de
ferry?”
“Yes,’’ said the old man, lowering his
pistol; “^rer ^ot any moah?”
“'Whar’s yer bottle?”
“Heah hit is," and Back Horn took a
bottle from his pocket, handing it over
and remarked, “hep yerself. ”
The old man drank and said “genny-
wine ’poesom hoUow.”
“Yer’s right, old man. Hab a seat.’
The two men sat down. “Let me pnt
yer pistol ober heah. Put de hook ober
m de coruder. Dar now, we’s fixed.
pocket and then I pointed' to the floor £ «“«*
oflhe cab, where Jim lay in a drunken 22*1“ *7“ da co ? ntr 7'
---I \is„ T • 1 What! yer am t acorn’ so soon, is yer?
sleep, and Miss Lord in a dead faint
and I told the story as weU as 1 could.
I tell you there was pretty lively times
there for a few minutes.' The passen
gers found out that something was the
matter, and they c: me pouring out of
the cars, and crowded round the en
gine, and 1 had to tell my story over
and over to them. Well, some of the
men carried Jim off to the station, and
dumped him down on the floor, and
M ss Lord was taken into one of the
drawing-room cars, and fussed over as
though she was one of tbe greatest
ladi a in tbe land; and. before she came
to herself enough to sit np, th re was a
purse made up for her, of more dollars
th n she’ ever had in her life, and that
wa’n’t all, for Mr. Runals— the director
that was aboard the train—found that
she knew something of telegraphy, and
pnt her in the office at C for awhile.
and in a tew months gave her a steady
job. So you see it wa’n’t a bad ride for
her, a‘ter all.”
“ But what became of her?” I asked.
“Is she still in the office?”
“Ob, bless you, no, sir. She did what
most all the women do, sooner or later
—get married.”
“Well,” sa d I. “such a women de
served a good husband; I hope she got
one.”
“Well, Idon’tknow; pr ttymiddling,
I guess,’ ’ and then he nodded, with a
laugh: “She seems to be satisfied, so I
suppose there’s no occasion for any one
else to find fault.”
■ u-t then there was a whistle, and
the down train came into view, and,
putting fils pipe in bis pocket, the en
gineer made ready for his homeward
trip, saying, with a sly smile, as he
sprang on the engine and said good-by:
“If ever you come to Concord I shall
be glad to see you, and you can ask my
wi e what she thinks of the husband
Miss Ford got.”—Ballou’s Monthly.
A Twe-Headed Girl.
There is at Soorabaya, Java, at present
on view a Japanese infant with two heads
and necks, bnt with one body, two arms
and two legs. The little thing is now
about fifty days old, according to the
mother, and is so far in fair health. The
two heads and necks are placed side by
side on the trank, and are perfectly and
neatly formed, and of about normal size.
Between them on the trank is a small
protuberance, caused evidently by the
junction of two bodice. The body is ab
normally broad at tin shoulders, and
tapers down at the waist and lains to the
size of an ordinary infant of the same
age; the legs appeared very small and
weak, however. The arms on each side
of the small chest looked puny. The
right hand head is a little lighter in color
than the other. How the internal ar
rangements are disposed of we, of course,
do not know, hut both heads have to he
fed at meal times. When the writer
was present one head cried, the mother
said from hunger, but the other did not,
though it at the same time began moving
about restlessly as if for food. The two
heads do not breathe alike, nor do the
pulses an either arm heat together, from
time to time the infant (or infants, for
each head has a name) suffers from de
pression, and the face turns bluish,
showing that the blood circulation is not
properly regulated. The parents are
ordinary Japanese of the lower class,
and the mother is good-looking; so is the
offspring. They are doing a good trade
by the exhibition.—London Telegraph.
yer ain’t agoin’ so soon, is yer?
Wish yer stay to dinner.”
“Gimme some more ob de ’possom
hollow. Dat staff makes me feel like
whistlin’. Come oat an’ see me. Doan
forget de jug.”
The Cabbage.
Just speak to a fine lady about cab-
sages and she will think that you have
nentioned one of the lowest things on
rarth. Madam, yon are wrong; it is one
>f the most useful articles of food.
Fhoee ancient nations did not know
iood science, bnt they knew the value of
good and nourishing tilings, and gave
■hem the place of honor which they de
terred. Cabbages were thought of
highly by ancient nations, and the Egyp
tians gave the cabbage the honor of let-
ling it preoede all their other dishes;
they called it a divine dish. The Greeks
ana Romans had a great affection for
Jabbage, and conceived the idea, which I
have myself, that the use of cabbage
keeps people from drunkenness. I am
persuaded that the constant eating of
sertain vegetables kills the desire for
klooholic beverages. Greek doctors as-
sribed all kinds of virtues to the cabbage.
It was thought to cure even paralysis.
Books were compoeed to celebrate the
rirtuee of the cabbage, and ladies par
took of it soon after childbirth. The
Romans thought even more of the cab
bage than the Greeks. They ascribe to
it the fact that they could for six hundred
years do without doctors, and Cato
ictually maintained that cabbage cured
ill diseases. The ancients knew several
kinds of cabbage—the long-leaved green
sabbage, the hard white, so mnch used
in Germany for “sauerkraut” or fer
mented cabbage, the curly and the red.
This last seems to have held the place of
honor, and was first introduced by the
Romans into Gaul or Franoe, and then
brought to Great Britain. Later the
sen-leaved cabbage was introduced.
a Greeks were fond of aromatic sca
nnings—of oil, raisin wine, and almonds.
They boiled or stewed the cabbage and
masoned it with cummin, coriander seed,
with oil, wine, and gravy, making rich
dishes of a vegetable, which we now boil
in water, and reckon among the plainest
food. Something like a remembrance
of cooking cabbage among the old
Greeks has come down to the modom
Greeks, for they stuff cabbage leaves
with dainty mince meat, and then stew
them with gravy.—Mrs. Lewis, in Food
and Health Leaves.
Raising poultry for the market can be
made quite a profitable business if prop
erly managed. By faulty management
the profit can be made very small or be
made to disappear entirely. In raising
ehickens for market it makes a great
difference whether they attain a good
size and are sent in early in the season
when poultry is scarce and high, or are
marketed late when there is plenty of
poultry offered at low prices. The
prices of chickens in August and Sep
tember are usually fifty to one bundl ed
per cent, higher than they are in Octo
ber and November. By having the
chickens hatched early in the spring
they may easily be m ide ready for the
market early and then secure't he high
prices which prevail during the latter
part of summer and first part of autumn.
In order to succeed in raising poultry
extensively, plenty of room must be pro
vided for it. There must be salable
shelter, and plenty of yard room. The
yard should be large enough so that a
large part of the ground can be kept in
grass, to afford the poultry a supply of
green food. They need a daily supply
of green vegetables. Cabbage and let
tuce are best, but young and tender
grass is good. Shade is needful in the
yard to afford the birds a chance to re
treat from the hot rays of the snn in
summer. Fruit trees may advanta
geously be placed in the yard. They
will afford the needed shade, and the
presence of the fowls will help to pro
tect the trees from insects and insure
their thriftiness and fruitfulness. Poultry
yards are generally too small. If the
yard is large enough the fowls will keep
healthy. A New York hotel-keeper a
few years ago had a poultry yard which
contained fifteen acres, in which he kept
large numbers of tuikeys, ducks and
fowls. They had the range of the lot
and daring tbe summer obtained a large
part of their food from the yard, and
were free from diseases usually incident
to poultry. The owner was wont to de
clare that he could raise a thousand
ponnds of poultry as easily and as
cheaply as he could a thousand pounds
of beef, mutton or pork. Under good
management it is probably true that a
thousand pounds of poultry can be pro
duced as cheaply as a thousand pounds
of beef, mutton or pork. The fact that
poultry usually sells at two or three
times the price of beef, mutton or pork,
sufficiently indicates how much greater
the profit must be in poultry raising
than in raising beef, mutton or pork.
In raising poultry for the market the
importance of having the chickens
hatched early should be insisted upon.
Next in importance is the feeding of
them to insure their rapid and continu
ous growth. The food for the young
chicks should be such as is adapted to
promote growth, and should be abun
dant in quantity. Skimmed miik,either
sweet or sour, is au excellent article to
feed young chicks, along wiih Indian
meal or oat meal cr bread made of
these articles. The chickens should be
given abont ail the food they will eat so
as to keep them growing thriftily, all
the time. Many allow their young
chickens to be only about half fed for
the first three or four months and then
by* extra feeding endeavor to bring
them into condition for the market. By
feeding well from the first the chickens
are hastened to maturity, kept in good
condition and are ready for the market
at an early age. If poultry can be
brought to maturity early in the season
and sent to market when there is a
scarcity of poultry offered, a high price
will bo obtained for it. The quicker
poultry can be grown ready for market,
the cheaper can it be produced. A cer
tain amount of food daily is required to
supply the waste of the system, main
tain animal heat and so forth, and what
is consumed in excess of that amount
increases growth and flesh. If a flock
of chickens can be brought to maturity
ready for the market in fodr months
instead of six, the cost of keeping them
alive or simply maintaining tli&'r con
dition for two months will be saved.
The more the chickens can be made to
eat and digest the faster they will grow
and the less will be the cost of maturing
them. Neglect to feed generously is
the cause of many failures in raising
poultry for the market. The greatest
profit is obtained only by feeding all the
birds can eat, while the least profit is
obtained by keeping them about half
starved. Generous feeding and profit
go together and that fact should be suf
ficient inducement to seenre good treat
ment of poultry.—Practical Farmer.
A San Francisco Snow-Storm.
/
j What Brave Snrfmen Accomplished.
Tourists have told you of our beauti- I The surfmen at Smith’s Island, on
!ul climate, of a land where even in mid- I the Northampton shore, resened the
winter, roses bloom in the open air and I crew of the Albert Daily, of Augusta,
;ce and snow are unknown; yet strange I Me., on the night of January 7. On the
as it may seem, on the last day of the | following day Mr. Cobb’s wreckera went
year, suddenly, without warning, we
were treated to a gennine snow-storm.
Hurrahs from thousands of boyish
voices filled the air as the feathery
snowflakes fell swilffy, and when they
continued to fall, hour after hour, cov
ering the earth ijith a snowy mantle,
boyish enthusiasm knew no bounds;
such snowballing, sncii coasting on im
provised sleds, such giant balls, such
snow men, such forts! They knew
what to do with it, our California boys,
though unless they had been out of the
State they had nerer seen snow before.
They tried to cram the fun and frolic of
a whole winter into one day. Nor were
the girls less wild; qniet, sedate maid
ens romped; they greeted the passing
stranger, the family milkman, their
friends young and old, with snowballs;
dignity was thrown aside; young ladies
forgot they were grown up, dandies
threw away their canes, pat their gloves
in their pockets, to return the" bails
thrown from every side. Sueh a snow
carnival was never seen. As for the
old folks, why we were as bad as the
young. The snow-storm came to us like
an old friend, bringing to many of us
happy memories of our childhood's
home. Many a dear grandma let the
snow settle on her cap as she stood on
the sidewalk regardless of the pelting of
a roguish grandson. Papa and mamma
threw balls at each other. IVe all for
got it was Sunday. It was not so funny
when the Sunday-schools were ont,
soon after the storm began, that the
cbildren should shout, scream and
roll in the snow, as it was abont
two hours later when the churches
were out, and the grown people acted
like children. Coming out of one of
the largest churcnes in town, a grave,
sedate meniher slipped and fell; before
on board in spite of the protestation of
Keeper Hitchens, of the Life Service.
That night the storm was terrific. The
snrfmen succeeded in reaching a point
opposite the wreck, at two a. m. of the
9th. Only the masts appeared in dim
outline, while the hull was completely
submerged. Several signals were burned
to cheer the men on the. wreck and to
enable the snrfmen to determine more
accurately the position of the vessel. It
was determined to make an attempt to
rescue them with the boat, but after
proceeding some distance the surfmen
could see nothing of the schooner, and
were forced to return to the shore. When
it was light enough to see the vessel,
the safety line discharged from the
Lyle gun, was twice thrown accross the
jibboom of the vessel; bnt as no attempt
was made by those on boaid to get the
line, it was hanled in .bv the surfmen,
and each time it parted. Two more
efforts to shoot the line over the wreck
proved unsuccessful, owing to a strong
adverse wind and the frozen condition
of the line, which caused it to part be
fore it reached the destined point. Had
the line been thrown full across the ves
sel, it would have availed naught, as
Mr. Cobb stated that they were too be
numbed with cold to have hauled it on
board, even if it had been placed in
.heir hands.
Seeing then that the only hope of
saving the imperiled men lay in reach
ing them with the surf-boat. Keeper
Hitchens and his crew, as soon as the
ebbing tide allowed them to launch, set
out through the storm and the sea,
which was running half-mast high, to
the rescue of the nine men (five of the
schooner’s and four of the Cobb Wreck
ing Company) who had been left on the
stranded vessel, and who could now bo
PASSING SMILES.
he was allowed to rise, other sedate I seen lashed to the rigging,
members had rolled him in the snow. I Keeper Hitchens and his men, though
Every one, old and young, rich and I they had been out on the beach all night
poor—was in the streets; we can give I in the terrible storm without fire or
yon but a faint idea of the wild frolics I food, drenched to the skin from their
indulged in. They were young ladies | first effort to board the vessel, and
and gentlemen, not bad boys, who pnt
a big snowball on the track,'making the
car-driver get off of his ctr to roil it
away, and, when a policeman appeared,
snowballing him so he bad to run.
Standiug in our dummy cars, the en
gineer proved so tempting a target he
was nearly smothered in the snow.
Toor fellows, they could not stand it,
the cars stopped running. People on
top of high houses would make im
mense balls, letting them fall on unsus
pecting pedestrians. Many silk hats
were made unfit for New Year’s calling
The few Chinamen who ventured out
had a hard time. Our China-bov stand
keeping their fjet from freezing only by I “ naulen P»
wading in the salt water of the sea, yet tentawere gone,
rushed with alacrity to their duty. The! “William, you have again come up
boat was launched and started on its ! unprepared!” “Yety far.” “But from
perilous journey, but the current was so ' eauso?’’ “Laziness, sir. “John-
strong that the men were cut to leeward B 9 n ’ William a good mark far np-
and the boat forced inshore. Launch- ! rightness.” “Bates, yon proceed. “I
ing the boat again, they got far enough | ^ ave not prepared, ^ too, sir. 7 „ “But why
out to reach the line, which was fast on ! “From laziness, sir. “Johnson,
board the wreck, but the sea was run- ; £»i v0 Bates a bad mark for plagiarism!”
niog so high that it was snatched from I The young Positivists are multiplying,
the bands of the men who held it, and ; Passing a group of children the other .
again they were driven ashore. An- : evening, weheard a little girlof a dramatifl
other powerful effort was made to reach turn of mind remark to a little boyper-
the wreck, and this time they succeeded, j suasively, “Now, you are a bad angel.
One of the men on the wreck, Ed- aren’t yon?” “ No,” was the dogmatic
ward Hunter, of Maine, the steward of . rejoinder, “I ain’t a bad angel and I ain’t
The person who does nothing in this
world is Oy.
“Maeriaoe m.kwt the man—the woman
was maid before.
A Western paper informs its reader*
that its candidate for Congress slings the
most eloquent lip of man in the State.
A down-town physician reports busi
ness “ terribly dull considering the state
of the markets.”—Kingston Freeman.
The farmer sowed the golden grain,
And sewed th* farmer’s daughter;
With her a charming episode,
For soon she’d soda water.
It is said that Ohio wives do their
own housework. Now, that is the kind
of an no hire idea we like.—Yonkers
Statesman.
Hancock’s father wanted him to leant
tho printer’s trade. Had he done so, in
stead of being a West Pointer he might
have been a setter.
“ Tis sweet to dye for those we love,”
exclaimed a young man when liis best
girl asked him wny he didn’t wear a
black instead of a light mustache.
The animal carries his tail at the op
posite extremity from liis head; a man
carries his tale in his month. And thus
does many a man make both ends meet.
It is learned from the Salt Lake Herald
that Galileo discovered Limberger cheese
floating through space in 1C09, and made
an entry in his diary at the time that he
thought it in a very poor state of pre
servation.
Smith says: “ My wife, who has just
read that ‘it takes a Japanese girl thir
teen hours to dress for a party,’ has sent
to Japan to know how she does it. She
can’t occupy more than four, for the life -
of her.”
A3 they were abont to Long an Irish-
man in London, one of his friends who
had come to witness the ceremony, cried:
“I always told yon you would come to
this!” “And you have always lied I X
have not come—I was brought!”
A gentleman who possessed an imita
tion rat tobacco poncli, thought he would
enjoy the nervous shock of a friend by
placingit where his friend’s eye would sea
it suddenly. He was much mortified when ^
the friend quietly took it np, helped him- '
self, and then pnssedit about till the con
ing on the step-, asked: “What for him i P . _
boys he.an laugh? cold very bad?” He the schooner, who refused to g ~ up in agoodangeL There’s no snebthings
had reason to think so before the end of I the rigging, had been washed over- angels, anyway.”
the day; some boys caught him, buried | board and lost about daybreak. The
remaining eight men were carried
ashore—four at a time—dreadfully be
numbed by their long exposure to tbe
cold. Richard Gordon, a member of
the Cobb wrecking crew, died from the
effects of exposure just about the time
he reached the sliore.—Onaeock Vir
ginian,
hint in the snow till ho was nearly
smothered, and sent him home crying
like a baby. We lived many years in
the East, but never saw a snow-storm
like tki-, for there all the trees (but the
evergreens) are bare, the rose bushes
are covered with brown branches,
bushes and plants are dark and with
ered; but here everything was different
—the grass, trees, bashes all green.
Many rose bashes covered with buds
and roses, tbe climbing fuchsias red with
flowers, tbe Abulilon gay with its swing-
Waste In Land.
_ More than half of the land in occnpa-
ion is waste. If I raise eighty bushels
. _ w sf corn per acre, and my neighbor
ing bells. In our garden we had smilax, raises but forty, although my neighbor
heliotrope, geraniums, fuchsias and may think he does well—which he does,
roses. We picked our New Year bou- I and better than is commonly done—yet
qnet after the storm began. Think of it requires double the amount of land I
picking beautiful tea-roses ar.d white equal my yield. This is a loss of ini
rosebuds in a snow-storm!—Cbr. Boston est and taxes on half of my neigh!
Transcript. | land, or virtually so much waste 1
The difficulty is, his land is half fed.
therefore can do but half the work. But
usually land does much less than this,
and can be made to do more than in the
other case. This shows what an enor
mous waste there is. Really, over two-
thirds of our land is idle, the interest,
The Malice of Inanimate Thing*.
A Long Nap.
A recent dispatch from Buffalo says:
A very peculiar and remarkable case
has just come to light in this city, but
ha3 not as yet, strange to say, attracted • -- . —. ,
the notice of the local press. The State I t 01 ® 3 and repairs lost, and this loss a
throe minutes of six. Oh, if there
might fee some delay, something to make
the other train e .en one minute late.
But no. away in (he distance Ioouldsee
afa’nt line of nooke eoariumearer and
'inis'
IKS;
Discover? of a Letter Written fey Adam
t# Eve.
In Josh Bolings’ “Cook Book and
Picktoriol Receipts,” the following in
teresting letter iB found:
Edobu, Pzckhbeb. Year Two.
Dear Era—I have been on tbe naapege now
one month, praspeetiag for <mr new bone, sad
end have eeea eaaw ranebee that will do tretti
Tell, bnt none of them fuel tbe ticket. The
eld garden iee hard piece to beet, bnt we have
loetthaLand am tented owi now to root bog
nr d£Twe will fight it oat negentUeitea
if it Ukee mil ■
a greet bfamdoL,—, .
faebygeeae; fbarata
acton la la
to yon. W
The worth)
Surprised to Death.
Old John Morris, a Little Bock negro,
hit upon the idea of Tanner anti-bilions
pills, compounded, as he declared, accord
ing to a recipe obtained of the long
(aster. He sola some to a woman who
died soon after taking them. John was
arrested and taken to the conrt, where
the following dialogue took place :
“ Where did yon get the medicine you
gave the woman? ” “I made hit from
d’rections sent ter me by Dr. Tanner.”
“What are its component parte?”
“Hit’s made outen roots from the grotrn’
and leaves from de trees; Does yer
wan ter bn? a bottle, Jedge?” “ No, sir,
I don’t. The charge against you is a
serious one. Whatm adeyour medicine
kill the woman?” “Why, Jedge, de
medicine didn’t kffl the ’oman.” -“What
killed her? ” “ Why, Jedge, de ’oman
died ob de surprise. Yer see she had
been fakin’ ebervthing in the medical
market an’ hit didn’t do her no gpod.
Shedidn’hab mnch confidence in my
medicine, and when she tuck hit an’ fenn’
that hit went right ter work fearin’ at
tiie earners ob de biliousness, hit sur
prised de Wen to death. Yer can’t hole
anmfor smprisin* anybody to death.
Ef I oome an' tells you a good piece ob
news, an’ yon falls dead, de law can’t
hold me ‘sponaihic An* ’oordin ter de
i ‘rtoSMsay, if I gins a woman a dodfe
ob medicine and hit surprise* her ter
death, de law can’t pnt de clamps on
Reserved Scats.
In traveling, one meets with many
selfish people; among them countless
women who insist on monopolizing two
seats in a railway car under the pre
tense that one of them is engaged by an
attendant gentleman, supposedly in the
smoking-car for a brief intervaL We
saw two women of this sort rightly
served during a summer trip. For fifty
miles they succeeded in warding off
travelers who sought the shady side of
the car, and the seat in front of them
was the convenient receptacle of their
baggage. Finally, however, an unconth-
lookmg individual quickly removed the
baggage and turned the seat. The
astonished ladies paused in their con
versation to each other and raised their
hands as if in remonstrance, bnt it was
too late; the thing was quietly and
quickly accomplished, and the two for
eigners who were seated there seemed
to understand no words or gestures.
Public opinion, in that cor, at least,
sided with them. On another occasion,
when our party entered a car, not a scat
was available. One person was gnnrd-
ing four, others one and two; the aisle
: uncomfortably crowded “Tliis
way,” said the conductor, “room in the
lace car for those who are standing.”
ie engaged seats were nt a discount
(plenty of room now), but the conductor
insisted that they should be retained by
their occupants, and MI were made com
fortable. “Do as you would bo dene
by," is a good rale when traveling as
elsewhere.
Asylum for the Insane is located here
and is one of the largest and finest in
stitutions of this kind in the world. It
contains at present about 250 patients,
the most remarkable case among them
being that of a man of German descent,
constant dram. And yet this is not tbe
[ worst; farmers, instead of disposing of
some of their land, or working to its full
capacity what they have, grasp after
more, thus increasing the waste, and
| too often decreasing the profit, with
„ P ri
who hails from a large town in southern | sometimes loss of the land m the end,
Ohio. He was found lying in a street I ^bich is nsnaliy a relief. If yon men-
here one dav over a year ago, and was I improvement to them they know it
taken to the police station by an ignor- “11, and will even assume to instruct
ant policeman who believed him to y°°» assuring you that some land is , and at his order made him two kevs.
be intoxicated. There his real condi- | I°o poor to do anything with,” and ■ - ... ... ®X S *
pleading a lack of manure, or the too
A certain young man in this city can
never be argued out of a belief m the
total depravity of inanimate things,
which has bee n impressed upon him in
a singular and forcible manner. Last
Saturday night he came home very late
from the club—although that fact is
neither here nor there. On reaching his
sleeping apartment he proceeded to on-
dress according to an unvarying system
iDto which he nad fallen, lie removed
his coat and vest and hung them over
the back of a chair. Then he sat down
and took off his shoes. He then drew
a certain other garment—in short, his
irs—in one pocket of which he was
»med to carry a penknife and the
:ey to his office desk. On doing so he
heard the knife fall upon the floor, and,
picking it np, he placed it npon tbe
washstand and finished disrobing. In
the morning he arose betimes, and,j
resuming bis trousers, discovered ■
his key was missing. He groveled '
over the floor looking after it, bnt with
out effect, and although hunting high
and low, conld find nothing of it. As it
stormed thatrday and the walking was
bad he pnt on a pair of heavy boots,
which he wore all day, and donn
again on Monday morning. On T
be tried all manner of keys on i
but, owing to the diabolical ing
of the lockmaker, none would nt, and
on Monday he got a lock-mith to come
np, who, after a long trial picked tha
tion was discovered by a physician, and . . _ . .
he was hurried away to the Insane I great cost of enriching the land with
Asylum. The man has spoken but once I purchased manures. And yet it may bo
daring the time he has been an inmate I Ibat round about them are those who
of the Asylum. Then he declared inco- ne ^ er lack for manure, growing large
hereDtly that the “Lord bad commanded I and profitable crops, on land originally
him to sleep” and that he “would be I poor as the land they complain of.
awakened by the Lord when it suited Good tillage and home-made manure
His pleasure,” or words to the same I are the most successful means of raising
effect. The man is insane, his peculiar I “nd profitable crops. The manage-
delusion being that he must sleep, and F ent mu8t be to prevent not only waste
sleep he certainly does, for he is utterly I * n tb® land, bnt in labor, in manure,
unconscious, and has been for over & I in many other ways that may seem
year, being fed on liquid food just as an I sma B, but in the aggregate amount to
infant would be. His eye3 never open, I ma ®b. This must be done, as the aver-
and when raised np in bed, if his sup- I “o e profit per bushel or pound of pro-
port is withdrawn, he will sink down as I duce is necessarily small. Economy is
limp as a dead person. Various devices I a valuable aid here as m everything
have been resorted to in the vain en- I a* 3 ®* and the farmer can not well practice
it too much. Besides, he must have
knowledge and experience, not only in
a general way, bnt as directly applied
to his own land. He may grow large
crops—the largest, if yon please—that
will cost more than they are worth, as
is often the case with premium crops, or
with corn grown from the silo, or par
ticularly where commercial fertilizers
are used. The ground, very highly and
deeply enriched, will lose somo of its
manure before it can be appropriated,
taking years to do it, with loss of the
interest and the risks which accompany
overgrown crops. Less manure might,
on the whole, have grown as good crops
deavor to arouse him from his lethargic
condition, including electricity, shower
baths, trickery, ete. In presence of the
writer, Dr. Granger, one of the attend
ing physicians, pinched the patient’s
flesh in sensitive parts, bat not a muscle
moved or quivered, yet when the head-
board of his bedstead was soundly
rapped npon with a brass key, the
patient’s face twitched convulsively.
Tbe man has excellent family con
nections, and a brother of his declares
that no insanity was ever noticed in his
brother previous to his coming to Buf
falo on a visit, when he was overtaken
by his present great misfortune. Dr.
so that no snch calamity as he had en
dured should again fall upon him. With
these two keys in bis pocket he went
home Monday night to prepare for the
theater, and on putting on the dress-
shoes he had worn at the club found the
missing key in the to* oCone of them.
The language that he nsed at this dis
covery was of a somewhat lurid char
acter, but it seemed to do him good.
And he swears and affirms that the key
jumped into the shoe on purpose, hav
ing previously arranged with the knife ~
to fall londlv on the floor at the sam»
moment and avert suspicion; and ha,:
furthermore deposes that the key will
not now fit his desk, as it had stretehed
the slot in it so widely by grinning over.
its little joke that it can not move the .
bolt in the lock.—Boston Journal.
letaifojrtL
Umbrellas.
In the aeventeenth century an umbrel
la generally measured about four feet in
height andneari y four yards in circum
ference. It weighed at least four pounds,
and coat a earn varying from £2 to £3,
and even more. It was then made of
leather, oiled silk, or glazed paper, and
constituted an important article of prop
erty 1<«mM down as a family heirloom
for aiiinir«tii*ai_tiTt was in 1780 that
tha nris manpptarets began to reduce
its aim; sUMMumhe it of lighter and
' ' Its color had
Mi*
well as
oi the
1 the good
” 008, C3
re free
ft***?, in
tom
with less loss. The best wav is—and
this experience most largely deride—to
use inure enough to grow fall crops,
or snob as will seenre tbe most advant-
age, all things considered, in which case
there will always be enough manure left
hinTtobe cognizant ofall that transpires I in th « 3051 to th ® a® 1 * C”>P. which
in his presence. He is thirty years of ma Y P°‘ "<**}. additional fertility to
age and unmarried. The bate, when | grow it, depending npon what is grown,
it becomes more publicly known, will
certainly awaken wide-spread attention
hi scientific and medical circles.
Granger states that the case is a rare
one, only one or two snch being on
record. He also states that the patient
is liable to arise at any moment, either
a perfectly sane man or a combative,
destructive, raving maniac. He believes
rcoldil
some crops requiring less manure, and
to some extent of a changed character;
but there should always'be enough to
tax the fall capacity (tithe soil, so that
tha greatest profit, all things considered,
may be realized. What is more than
this is a waste, to some extent, of
Yrne Love.
Do you know what it is so to lire np-1 manure; what is less is a lack and im-
a person who is present with you I plies waste in land.—F. a., in Country
that your eve* follow hia; that yon read \ Gentleman.
a wSShss
hia wishes; that yon smile inhiasmBe" u - " ?yv thre ”.
andmWin hisSn«».and.re» | £S2tfo?
river. The iee gathacsd ranges fat thick
ness from eight fe ’
owing to the low _
when it froze over,
caotwhen he is vexed, and rejoiced :
‘Hava
mtr
got tho rent rea^y at
sir; mother’s
‘Xa*;afe”
oputii
she’d
A Light-Moose Keeper’s fstapr.
On the highest peak of the hills of
the Highlands of Navasink, N. J., stand
the famous twin light-houses. Daring
the heavy storms of last week Job
Smith, the assistant keeper, was im-
E risoned there for four consecutive da ‘
eeping the lights burning through i
dense fogs that veiled the coast tor tl
period. While thus engaged Smith l
a narrow eseape from a terrible d
The lar.l-oil which is nsed in the ^
lanterns of the Fresnel light is
chilled, and the night being veiy c
was necessary to apply hem to tbe i
through which the oil passes to t
burners. Smith used the ordinary si
hoi flambeau provided for that purpo
Standing directly underneath the fe
tern he held the flambeau above 1
head. From some unexplained
the top of the alcohol-holder be
detached, and the fluid, which igu
poured down npon his head. Haro
down the tower into tim ■»«’it 1
and ont of doors, and the
into a snowJumkhe so
tinguishinggpEflames.
board wer^nged and Mac
burned and scorched, while ;
foca^ltamto he received i
three mdHon oerocoeodajlinb;
■ ef tfen
while