Cedartown advertiser. (Cedartown, Ga.) 1878-1889, January 24, 1884, Image 1
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Official JSurnal of Polk and Haralson
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OLD SERIES—VOL. X- NO. 51 CEDARTOWN. GA.. THURSDAY, JANUARY 24, 1884. NEW SERIES—VOL. VI—NO. 6.
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LOVE AND FAME.
The poet’s soul that Bad the honey pressed.
From man and life,
On eager wings had gone to seek her rest
Far from eart h’s strife.
Fame' said to Love: “The poet's soul is
mine.
’Tis mine to bring
To tny eternal fields the voice divine
That thus could sing.”
"SKr
Love answered: “Though thy claim I now
confess.
’Twas X did give
Uis verses all the fire and gracefulness
Whereby they live.”
THE BANKER’S It I EC E.
It was quite late in the evening ere
the banker’s clerk, Pierre Dupont, was
able to meet his engagement and enter
the splendid ball room of the Countess
D. A noble-looking fellow, dressed
with exquisite taste, and withal brim
ful of mirth and compliment, he was
ever a desirable acquisition to the
soiree of the season, and as he passed
along now. interchanging bows and
greetings, many a lady’s eyes grew
bright, and many a heart beat tumult
uously. f But the clerk was too wearied
just then to regard any very closely;
and, indeed, had only repaired to the
gay spot because he could not well
excuse himself. Threading his way
through the graceful dance he gained
at length a draperied window and en-
sconded himself behind the rich cur
tains and looked, listened and rested.
His attention was soon riveted on
the face of a young girl who sat beside
an opposite window. Not because she
was not beautiful, for he thought her
very plain in features; nor because of
ner cuaiij .a.., W she was dressed In
simple muslin; but only from tue cu-
cumstance that she was the only mai
den seated, the wall flower of the hall,
the rest all tripping the mazes of the
figures just then called. He thought
she looked a little sad, and d : d not
wonder, she sat there so lonely and
neglected. Pierre had a warm and
k'lidly heart hidden under his laughing
mein, and he resolved at once that,
fatigued though he was, he would seek
an introduction and lead her to the
floor.
The countess passed just then. He
expressed his wish to her and asked
the name of the unknown. To his
astonishment he was told she was the
•niece of hi employer, a :d called Louise
Lascelle.
' “A liquid name, truly, my lady, I
wonder if her voice be as soit.y musi
cal.”
“I can hardly tell you. I have so
seldom heard it. She was .introduced
to me last week by her uncle, and, of
course, as so near a relative, I must
needs invite her. But she is not happy
here, I think. She is so clean and poorly
dressed that our beaux do not fancy
her. She has not danced at all.”
‘ ‘Present me, if you please. 11 would
ill become me to pass her by.”
“lou think, then, to gain the bank
er’s favor. But I warn you. He told
me she had no expectations from him
to offer to the world, and I infer she is
some poor relative to whom in pity he
has given the post of housekeeper,”
“Yet, present me. If poor, I am her
equal. If neglected, the more need
that 1 should show her some respect.”
And he crossed the room and the
countess introduced him.
Pierre had thought her quite plain,
but when she raised her eyes to his he
saw that she had at least ;is brilliant a
pair of orbs as flashed in th? whole
saloon, and lie noticed too, that the
lashes which veiled them were long
and silken. And when she responded
to his compliments he found that her
voice was softly musical, and when
their conversation became animated,
her whole countenance, though very
pale, became radiant with the expres
sion of her thoughts, laughter now
dimpling her thin lips, gravity chast
ened their curve, and sarcasm rounded
them into fulness. And when he led
her away he marked that her step was
light and graceful, her attitude a
model, and her whole mien enchanting.
He saw, too, that her hair, though not
abundant, was rich and dark, and soft
and glossy as untarnished silk, and,
though confined in braids, had a wavy
outline that gave it the appearance of
imprisoned ringlets. Her drass, too
though of muslin, was of the finest and
and most delicate India fabric, and the
little lace that flounced her neck and
sleeves was of the . arest kind.
“She has exquisite taste, I know,*
whispered he to himself, “or a robe
so plain would not bang in such grace
ful lolds, nor would its few trimmings
be so expensive,”
And forthwith he began to wish that
he were rich, and to fancy how he
would array the maiden if he were
burdened with the care. Strange
thoughts far himl An hour kefore,
and he did not know she lived. Now
he hoped she might live forever, and
he beside her.
He devoted himself exclusively to
her during the remainder of the even
ing, the other ladies wondered what he
could find so enchanting in a maiden
whom other beaux without exception
had slighted. And when the banker’s
carriage was announced, as the uncle
had excused himself quite early, he
begged and obtained permission to
escort her home, and the musical
“Bonsoir, monsieur,” which trembled
on her lips as she' parted from him
haunted his memory all night long and
sang sweetly in his ears the whole of
next day, notwiths'anding he spent it
amidst dusty ledgers.
The succeeding evening there was a
party at the banker’s and the clerk, one
of the invited guests, went early this
time, and thus obtained a half hour’s
conversation with the niece, unmolested
by hearers or lookers-on.
But he was better pleased than even
he had been before, and only left her
side, when politeness to other friends
demanded. He sounded her mind and
found that it was rich in ores that rust
could not corrupt; while her heart, for
as she chose to show it, w.j>s a very
heaven of purity and holiness. In
short, he was in love, and he thought
it no wonder, either, or rather he did
not stop to analyze his feelings—it was
enough to know how he felt—enough
to know that her lightest tone was
music to his ears, and the gentlest
touch of her soft hand sent an electric
revelation to his heart.
They met evening after evening,
sometimes in the louely parlors of her
uncle; sometimes at the theatre or
opera, but oftener at the ball-rooms of
her wealthy relatives acquaintances,
• whither she went for what reason it
seemed hard to tell. Perhaps to gratify
her unele’s wishes, perhaps her curiosity
because she hoped for admiration or
’ r 'i? ^sgtocted,
and still called plain and dowdyish,
though they owned her looks Improved
a little, and her dress had more of tene.
The clerk thought she grew handsomer
each time he saw her.
They stood one evening in her uncle’s
winter garden, the breath and beauty
of the summer time all about them
was chill, arid hifM^jtytnewlndr^She
was toying with a rosebud, a wweet,
half-blown thing, that she had carelessly
plucked from a bush beside her. Sim
bad inhaled its fragrance, trailed it
upon her brow and cheek, pressed it in
dalliance to her lips, and now with her
slender fingers was unfolding the green
calyx. *’ >
“Do not tear it, Louise”—their in
timacy warranted him in the use of her
liquid name; “give it to me—or stay;”
and he plucked its mate—“exchange
this with me.”
4Sbey' we^e simple words,'but they
brought rich color to the maiden’s
cheek, and she had no power to speak.
Their hands met softly, lightly, to
t xchange the ibuds, but somehow they
ould never iiflll, their fingers were en
tangled and in the ecstacy that thrilled
them the floral gift was quite forgot
ten, and only brought to memory after
an hour’s delightful interchange of
promises and love, by the words of the
betrothed Louise:—“The rose has ever
been my favorite flower; I will wear it
more than ever now;” when the fallen
buds were gathered up and borne away
that night on human hearts.
With a proua ana manly step the
clerk the next day sought the uncle and
asked his niece in marriage.—The
banker seemed astounded.
“You are too poor to marry, Pierre.”
“May be, monsieur, but not to love.
We will live on that.”
"xt la food f^r the honevmoon.”
“Then ours shall last iorevcx,-
“Well, well, I’ll see about it. Go
now. The ledgers wait.”
So Pierre went to his work again,
and the uncle tc see his niece, and they
were long closeted together.—And
when he came again to the counting
room he whispered to the clerk:
The girl is as willful as yourself,
and vou may make your- own way—
but mind, should the honeymoon e’er
wane, yon come not here with pitying
tale.”
They were married five days after
ward, with none but necessary wit
nesses. The banker gave his niece
away, and as he pressed his paternal
kiss upon her cheek he hung about her
neck a diamond necklace, wntch Pierre
thought-“an unseemly gift for a por
tionless bride, and for a poor man’s
wife. But he forgot its glitter soon in
the dazzling raaiance that flashed from
her dark eyes, as side by side they
drove out from the bustling city to
spend a single day of leisure.
The bridal eve was over, and the
twain, now of one flesh, sat at their
breakfast. But the bridegroom was
strangely sad and absent, and e;e long
the bride questioned him.
“What ail’s you,Pierre? Why don’t
you eat or drink?”
“I have no appetite.”
“Love suffices, I presume, but why
that wrinkled brow? One would think
you were a cross old grandfather in
stead of a youthful husband. I say
again what ails you?” *
“I don’t want to leave you.”
“And who wants you to—not I. I’m
quite sure?”
“Your uncle does, and I must go. I
have stayed too long, yet I should like
to spend one week in honeymoon.”
“And so you shall.”
“But our bread, Louise?”
“Our bread 1 Then you think it
will suffer from six day’s idleness. My
baker will take care of that. But it is
time the play was out.—Know that I
have no expectations from the banker,
because I need none, I am mistress,
in my own right to a million and a
half.”
“You, Louise—my bride?”
“Ay your bride—Madame Pierre
Dupont, not quite so musical a name
as my old one of Madamoiselle Louise
Lascelle, and yet I like it well. And,
moreover, the lady has a villa in the
south that a nobleman might envy,
and there forthwith we’ll go and stay
for a week or a year, just as we please. ”
But why ”
Conceal so long my riches? That
I might win a husband who loved me
and not my gold. I had many lovers,
but on testing them I found it was not
me they wanted but my possessions. I
came here, and at a time when sick
ness had despoiled me of the little
beauty I had owned, and, with uncle’s
permission passed off a dowerless niece.
You fancied me, in spite of my poor
looks and empty purse, and I—well,
never mind. Uncle gives a ball to
night, in honor of our nuptials, and
it’s time you were deciding on your
dress. Miue is already ordered, and
when our friends see the bride in snowy
satin, queenly laces, and a veil that is
a fortune, floating above the ringlets
on her neck, for the braids shall all be
unloosed and my hair have its free
will to-night, a loop of diamonds in
eadhear, a bracelet on each arm and a
necklace around my throat, perhaps
they will think they were mistaken,
and credit beauty, grace, fashion and
wealth-to the bride of the hour.”
“And the stgr of the evening and
the city shall, be my own Louise, late
but the banker’s niece.”
Champagne.
The Faculty of Paris in 1778 pro
nounced champagne to be the finest and
healthiest of all wines, and, except in
cases of weak digestion, is, if pore, one
of the safest wines that can be drankt
It is the king of wines at the convivial
board in this country—so much so that
when a “bottle” of wine is proposed, it
understood to be be champagne,
unless some other is expressly men-
mentioned. “Its intoxicating effects
are rapid, but exceedingly transient,
and depend partly upon the carbonic
acid, which is evolved from it, and
partly upon the alcohol, which is sus
pended in the gas, being rapidly and
extensively applied to a large surface of
the stomach.” The Idea that cham
pagne produces gout is erroneous,
though it is to be avoided whe.etbat
disease already exists. It is a mistaken
idea that champagne must be swallowed
as soon as possible after it is uncorked.
It it is real and good champangne it
improves by letting it stand a little, as
after the gas has partly escaped, it will
entirely retain the flavor and body of
the wine, which is, to some extent, con
cealed by ita effervescence. This is the
best teat of good champagne.
The best method of disposing of bait
the slanders of tbs ige is to pay them
no attention. The other bait may be
lived down.
Circus Folklni Winter.
“Do they retire into the cave ofgloom
and have their long, unbroken winter
snore, just like the bear and other
strollers? Or how do they hibernate ?’
The reporter addressed the question
to a group of circus people, and Mr.
Stickney took the answer upon himself.
“It has often been a puzzle to me why
the general public is so little informed
about circus people in this country.
With the doings and sayings the for
tunes and misfortunes of actors and
singers and other show people the press
is very familiar, and devotes regularly
an amount of space to them, but for ns,
the circus folks, not a line is avail
able.” Thus, said the veteran eques
trian, musingly. However,” he con
tinued, “I’ll tell you something about
circus people. The salaries of the rideis
are generally large enough during the
season to support them through the
winter. They do not bother about giv
ing instructions in equestrianism. The
remuneration would be too small, and.
besides, not every bareback rider is
competent or even able to instruct
others how to ride. With circus riders
the point is to learn how to do all kinds
of daring tricks on horseback without
losing their balance and hold of the
steed. The manner in which they sit
,on their horse, whether coirectly or
Indian fashion, makes little difference.
So you see they couldn’t show^ others
how to sit on a horse. Well, the most
of them spend their winters in those
few places in the country where prac
ticing buildings are to be had. There’s
S. Q.Stokes’ place in Fordham, N. Y.,
where there is a forty-two foot ring to
practice your horses in.
These equestrians that have their
own horses send them for stabling, and
pay a certain sum for their keep and
for the privilege of practicing them.
Ti>o come is true of Eaton Stone’s place
near Newark, N. J., ana ut Oanoii’e in.
West Chester. Barnum only keeps large
quarters for liis menagerie in Bridge
port, Conn., hut no practicing build
ings. Well, in these different plaees
the regular circus riders go on practic
ing their horses and their own limbs all
through the cold weather If they did
not they would lose their skill and never
improve.
They break in and train new horses
besides, and learn all kinds of new
tricks for the next season. Of course.
I’m only speaking in this connection of
the well-known riders of reputattonlike
Jim Robinson, Charley Fish, Frank
Melville, Orrin Hollis, and Willie Sholes.
This last one is the rising equestrian,
quite a young fellow, but endowed with
skill, grace, and daring that will make
him eclipse all the present champions.
Of the female bareback riders I may
mention hut a few, like Mme. Dockrill,
Lottie Aimard, Yiola Rivers and Ella
Zuyana—tliat’s a man, by the way, but
performs in woman’s clothes. And lie’s
the most finished circus rider in this
country, and the most elegant. S. Q.
Srokes graduated him. As I said before,
the equestrians don’t give lessons in the
cold season. It wouldn’t pay them.-
The winter circus in our cities is un
known in this country, hut I am sure
they would pay as well in such places as
New York, Boston, Philadelphia and
Chicago as they do in Paris, London or
Berlin.”
“Don’t some of the Americans ac-<
cept engagements in European circuses
in winter, such as in Renz’s circuses in
Berlin, Vienna, Dresden, or Hamburg,
or at the hippodromes in Paris or
Lyons? ” asked the reporter.
“They do sometimes, but not this year,
as it happens. The show buisness has
been dull in Europe this year. There
are some American circus people,
though, a few, who will perform this
winter in the circus of Orrin Brothers
in the City of Mexico. Last winter
there was also a circus running in New
York, at the Indian Wigwam, Thirty-
fourth street and Broadway, and L. B.
Lent has made ail his money in his win
ter circus on Fourteenth street, New
York.”
“How about the other rtreus people—
the jugglers, tumblers, gymnasts? ”
“They’re better off than we eques
trians. All those that amount to any^
thing can find all the engagements they
want during the winter. They perform
in theatres and such places of amuse
ment. and generally have a series of en
gagements running right up to the be
ginning of the circus season.”
“New Mr. Stickney, tell me the A B
C of circus riding and equestrian
tricks.’,’
“I will, with pleasure. In order to
make a proper ring horse, first make
him bridle-wise. The horse then has
the pad put on him, if he is to serve as
a pad-hone. To get used to that takes
some time. Then you must get the
horse accustomed to the ring, which is
done by leading him around the circular
track, and always bending his neck in
side, toward the track. Then give him
a long dose of ‘rough riding.’ If he
kicks with the pad on his back, you
work away at him until you make him
understand that he’s got to carry it and
the object on top of it, and that it don’t
hurt him. The Tung rein’ is also used.
at that period of a horse’s training.
When thus far, bring in your objects,
such as banners, hoops, flags, hurdles,
drums, weapons, etc., and get him
thoroughly used to them. Let him look
at them and smell of them; in short,
take all the fear out of him by convin
cing him that nothing of all this, despite
the noise, is going to injure him. When
he has become acquainted with all of
these thingSj when the horse no longer
shies, and will pursue the even tenor of
his way in the arena, no matter what
happens, then he is a good performing
horse. Only about one in’every fifty
horses gets that far, though, just' as it
is with a circus rider, too. It takes
special aptitude, skill, and constant
practice, and. even then a circus eques
trian is never sure but what an accident
may cripple him for life the next
minute.”
'Louis Quatorze delighted m honor
billiard players who could goon for any
length of time making cannons against
brilliant players, but who. at the same
time professed inability to bent the
Kins. ChamiOart rose to be first Min
ister by suffering himself to be defeated
each time he bail the Grand Monarch
for an opponent. It ms in the reign
of Ludovico Magnus that billiards first
rolled on green baize In France. His
Majesty was a gluttonous eater, and he
wore light-heeled shoes and berlbboned
garments he could not trudge over hill
and dale, gun in band, in the shooting
season, He rode in a carriage when he
followed a stag-hunt Heavy eating
and no exercise to speglTOf irritated his
peccant honors. Fagan did not dare
to try the effect* of hie v*dMaer on so
Illustrious a personage, and.was afraid
to tell him disagreeble troths, it would
not have done for him to say: “You
eat too much, sire, and walk to little."
But he had the ingenious idea to hand
him a billiard cue, and to tell him that
it was “a lance of Achilles, which
would soon vanquish bile and gplpen.”
The King risked a pan on the occasion.
“If what I am told,” he said, “be true.
I shall return to a state of nature and
’ne pins me separer de ma queue. ’ ” He
was a man of his word. On risingfrom
the table, the first thing he did wax to
seize his billiard cue and play intermi
nable games with Madame de Montes-
pan, Her eclipse was not so much due
to the art other rival, Madame Scarron,
as to her own want of tact in allowing
courtiers to judge of her superiority
over the King at the billiard table. His
Majesty at first staked church livings,
military grades, civil functions, against
money. But, when he found that his
courtiers preferred risking his displeas
ure to losing their stakes, he played
for honor alone and gained easy victor
ies.
In his old age Lonis XV wielded the
{ance of Achilles against the Du Barry.
The Nuncio used to look on while the
King and his favorite played, and was
observed to blush at the sayings ot the
latter when she had lost patience.
Louis XVIII was also a billiard player
until his obesity hindered him from
getting near enough to the table to be
master of his cue. Under the Empire
publicans were encouraged by ministers
of the Interior to demacuratize what
had been for nearly 200 years a noisy
game. By its noisiness and the space
the table and players occupied, it pre
vented villagers crowding into wine
shops to talk politics. In old court
times French ladies were among the
best billiard, players. I have seen, in
an old curiosity- shop, a staymaker’s
signboard, in which the tradeswoman
who hung it out claimed to njaxe cor
sets which did not hamper the action
of the muscles in using the cue. “La
belle Caramboleuse,” or “pretty Can
noneer,” figuring on the board, held in
her hand a be-ribboned cue, and had
her hair dressed in the Du Barry style.
Billiards are held in honor at the Ely see.
Grevy’s facility in calculating ricocchets
is phenomenal, and his hand is deft in
striking a bali at the exact point at
which he wants to hit it. lie is ono of
the rare men who are first-rate players
without having made billiards a pro
fession or entirely devoted themselves
to them as amusement. The owner of
the Cafe de la Regence used to maneu-
ver-to k' ep him from the table there,
because the lenght of his breaks was a
cause of loss to the house.
Dinner Giving.
Givers of dinners snould lose no time
in making themselves acquainted with
all that has been written by the great
masters of gastronomy. The following
g»’den rules of Brillat-Salvarin should
be committed to memory:
‘ Let not the-number of guests ex
ceed twelve, so that the conversation
may he general. Let them be so selec
ted that their occupations shall be
varied, their tastes similar, their points
of contact so numerous that to intro
duce them shall scarcely he necessary.
‘•Let the dining room be superbly
lighted, the cloth of exquisite fitness
and gloss, the temperature of the room
from 60° to 68° Fahrenheit.
“Let the men be cultivated, without
pretensions; and the ladies charming
'Without coquetry.
Let the dishes be exceeding choice,
.bet not too numerous; and every wine
T firstrate of its kind.
• LoVUie order of dishes be from the
Substantial to the light, and of wines
from the simplest to' those of richest
bouquet.
“Let the business of eating be very
slo’lvthe dinner being the last act of
thetfajs’ drama; and. let the guests and
es as so many
leisurely towards
the liquor
: be large
j if any of
out it, and
Let
be chosen by the host.
‘Let the dra
enough for a
the guests cahni
yet have space enough ’ remaining for
after-dinner conversation.
“Let the guests be retained by the at
tractions of the party, and animated
with the hope of some evening meeting
again under the same pleasant auspices.
“Let not the tea he too strong; let the
toast be buttered m the most scientific
.-manner; let the punch be prepared to
perfection.
“Let no one deDart before 11 o’clocx
and no one be in bed later than 12.
“If anyone has been present at a par
ty fulfilling these conditions, he may
boast of having been present at his own
apotheosis.”
The CraxleBt Crate Vet.
Buying a Horse.
The man who can buy a horse and
feel sure of his purchase is necsHsanly,
an expert. There ure more ohances for
deception in a horse trade, likely, than
there are m any other traffic. A suc
cessful dealer in horseflesh generally
learns his trade by years of experience,
wh oh is osnallv quite expensive. Then,
too, he must be very familiar- wiii the*
horse, its habits and its aiiments. Few
men vho have attempted it can say
they were never beaten at a horse
trade.
There seems to be no exact standard
by which to judge a giod horse. Long
horses have been speedy and short
horses have been speedy. Tall horses
have shown good qualities on the road,
and so have short-legged ones. There
are. however, oertain rules and laws of
hygiene which may be studied and con
sulted in making an equine purchase.
The home-buyer mnst remember
that horse-flesh is subject to exactly
the same disease that man is. *'He
has ' headache, earache, toothache,
fever and all other ailment,” as a veter
inary surgeon expressed it to the writer.
Internal aiiments eaa seldom be dis
covered by any other than a veterinary
surgeon expressed. There are surface
indications, however, which are easily
discernible, snd should always be
looked for by a horse buyer, whether
an amateur or a professional, One
pomt the amateur migrfl make in par*
chasing-a horse is this: ‘‘Never bay a
home from a man yon do not know*
-‘In baying ahome,”said a professional
in the bus ness, “always take him when
he is cold—that is, when the animal is
fresh from the stable. In this way
yon may discover lameness, which wifi
pass away when the horse warms np,
but which, nevertheless, is a very bad
point. No man will bay a home if he
Knows it. If there are any too great
curves about the animal, such as a
•way back, a man who Is at all familiar
with the home will easily discover them.
String halt or a depressed hip will also
be discovered. The eyes mast always
be examined, for while a blind home is
not nseles, one with f erfect vision is
much mare desirable. The teeth, too,
always come in for their share of in
spection, bat they are not always a
guide mil ess the haver is well np in his
business, for a trader who so wishes
can make them very deceitful. By fil
ing and a process known as bishoping,
an old horse that has seen nearly a
score of yearn can be given a set of
teeth which will paas with -many as
tliote of a five-year-old.”
“in baying a borne look part ealariy
at his legs, See that he is not sp'int-
ered in ths face legs orspatiaed behind.
These diseases are those of the bona,
and affect a home abont the bade joint
The bone goes through a process of
malformation, causing a swelling and
stiffness, which are usually very evident
to the horseman, A similar diseate or
affliction peculiar to the horse, which
mast also bj looked for, ii ringbone.
Thu much r.aembl • spavin, and is
found just above the hoof on either the
fore er hi ad legs of the animal, and also
produces swelling and in time lamb
da.
•Mn fiber thing that mnst be looked at
in baying a home is the glanders. A
horse that u afflicted with that plague
you might as well JcilL He is incur
able and will transmit it to all the
animals with which he comer ir con-
tae. Foctnnateiy it is not a very com
mon disease. Thr symptom of ft are
very cancerous sores in the nostrils ani
at times a very d sagreeable discharge.
Aa stated above, there is no criterion
by which tobuj ahorse for speed. In
proof of this! will cite yon moaple of
instances, gome time ago a home waa
t ought in the Fifth street market for
street ear ponoaes* He was driven on
the Elm street hne for a long time for a
long time, and nothing unusual waa
notioed aboat him until oaa day, when
having bean, aecadentally hitched to a
boggy, it waa discovered that haco "
•pin handle in aboat 240, aad 1
much too rateable to to Um t* a
You can never tell what these wo
men are going to do next,’’said a loqua
cious barber in one of the large Chicago
hotel shops to a reporter as he forced
about half a pint of lather into the
scribe's alabaster ear. “Now that
elegantly dressed lady just going out of
the door has had her haircut off as
close as yours is all over her head.
.She has done it simply because it is the
proper thing to do, and will probably
ruin a most luxuriant crop.”
“You don’t mean to tell-me that the
practice of ‘aocking’ women’s hair is
becoming common in Chicago?” queried
;he hirsute newspaper man, becoming
somewhat interested,
t “It certainly is. Why, it already
mounts to a ‘craze.’ I think that
'..oman is the third we have‘clipped’
to-day, and we have averaged two or
brec a dav for a month past.”
“Is it tor the sake of com foil that
this fashion is coming into vogue?”
“No; I think it is because of the
novelty of it. It gives some women a
very striking appearance which is really
very improving. Others appear abso
lutely absurd, and probably feel very
much worse than they look after it is
all done. It is simply the result of a
desire to be noticed, to be looked at, to
attract the comment and admiration of
peop'a as roolish as themselves. In the
summer time, when a heavy head of
hair must be a burden to a woman,
there might be some sense in the ‘craze’
but at this season it must be a great
piece of folly to give up such a wonder
ful protection against the violent winter
weather. To cut even a man’s hair
close to the head in this uncertain cli
mate at this season of the year, is dan
gerous, but the exposure is nothing
compared with ‘cropping’ the hair of a
grown woman.”
“Are most of these women young or
old?”
Oh, all ages; but mostly middle-aged
and young women from 20 years of age
upward. You can never tell what a
woman will do with her hair, or what
sort of fool she will marry.”
' 'Don’t some of these women have
their hair cut in the hope that it will
grow out stronger, thicker and heavier
in consequence?”
“I don’t believe they do. for that is a
great mistake. Ii has not been my ex
perience that women’s or men’s hair
grow out any thicker and heavier after
cutting or shaving it. Women’s hair
that is wavy or early more often than
not comes in again straight and no
heavier than before. Nature gives
people a certain grade of hair, and if
they will not take care of it, no amount
of cutting will help it. Brushing the
hair and taking care of the general
health are the sure means of keeping the
hair fine and beautiful.”
Tbe Kmpretm Ksgenle.
Tnose who have seen the ex-Empress
of the French lately cannot help con
trasting the face of fifteen years ago
with the face that has looked on the ter
rible scenes that followed Sedan, the
dead husband at Chiselhnrst. and the
dead son who was brought home to her
from the plains of Zululand. tghoee
who saw the imperial lady in ParitTsix-
teeen or eighteen years ago have noil’or-
gotten how beautiful she was. “Doom'-t
she deserve a throne for her beauty?”
said an American gentleman who saw
her for the first time in Paris. She
united the most handsome features of
the German and Latin races—the fore
head high and free the eyes splendidly
blue, but not very;1arge; the hair of a
slightly darkened hue; the form of her
face small, oval; the nose fine, in beau
tiful symmetry, but not too high; the
month a trifle too large, especially when
she smiled, and the least bit Jewish.
Her whole appearance suggested a beau
tiful model for a Hebe—neck, shoul
ders, arms and above all, her hands
beautifully shaped, and all this combi
ned with the witching grace of an An
dalusian danaeuae. But time an sor
row have wrought their changes. The
beauty has been swept by the rough
fingers of adversity, and the lady,
whose suite consists of a few faithful
Fiend) friends, is no longer that bright
particular star that shone so long in the
galaxy of Parisian fashion and splen
dor.
Ohm three year old ostrich will yield
$150 worth of feather* a year. Gajnid*
ering that an ostrich will eat a week’s
washing at one meal, if it gets a chance,
ana swallow a few feooo-picketa lot de
sert, there doesn’t mm to ha —**■
profit in Mtriffc farming.
a Frofeoflconai aanur. > Vmbs u jist the things;’ k> I went to work
“See that old mar?” earn a companion and , “ m , r3e “° ed on , tlie . 8pot , th f.
of the writer, aa he s'opped the horse
aad wagon to let a curious figure on the
long drive on the south Staten Island
shore slip by.
The individual in question waa bent
way over and, when looking up sidewise,
showed a remarkable physiognomy. A
face blackened by exposure to the sun
and distorted until all evidence of intelli
gence seemed to have disappeared. Over
the low forehead and sunken eyes hung
great masses of tangled and matted hair,
protected by a silk hat that was the origi
nal type of the kind—a head covering so
dented, worn, and shiny, that it seemed to
be part of its owner. Tbe rest of the old
man’s apparel was of tbe same lot and had
a flavor of Evacuation Day.
“He’s working the south beach,” con
tinued my informant. “I’ve known him
for years. Re’s mad on the subject of
finding buried treasures, Captain Kidd,
and what not. Looks as though he doesn’t
know anything, but that’s where you
would be mistaken. He is really a man
of more than ordinary intelligence though
outwardly an idiot I first met him on the
Urine coast, where he was d.gging for
same gold that he believed had been
stowed away but whether he found any or
not I don’t know. He has money I think
to live on, or else he finds something to
keep him going.”
An hour later the writer and his com
panion turned down a road that led to the
south beach, and, walking up the beach,
soon found the old hunter, who recog
nized his acquaintance with a snort. “We
meet kinder, as it were, cn tbe same lay,”
be said, shutting up one eye; “but 1 know
ye ain’t,” he continued, with a contortion
that passed current as a laugh; “it don’t
pay. What just started me out? Well,
it’s hard to say. I m a Down-Easter, and
where 1 was raised, on a creek that led up
from the month of the Kennebec, about
the first thing I kin remember was my
father a-ploughin’ up a pot _nJ about
$500. He bought a share m a schooner
with it, and died leavin’ uuite a fortune,
and the last words o’ sense he about said
to me was, there was jest as much money
buried as there was m circulation.
‘Where,’ said he, ’is all the money they
used 500 years ago? It’s somewhere,
that’s sartin.’
“Well, that put met to thinkin’, and I
got a huntin’ on the the old farm and dug
up another lot o’ stuff, and I’ve been at it
ever since. You might wonder how 1 git
my dues. Well, they comes in all sorts
of ways. 1 had a partner once He was
on a cute sort o’ lay. He worked it kin ter
like this. He uted to saj: ‘The average
thief has stowed something away, and
can't git it until he gits out if he’s locked
up.’ So he goes round to all the*prisons
in the country pretendin' mat he was a
minister of the Gospel, and ail the time a
pumpin' the men. A good many said
they had stnff stowed away, but wouldn’t
trust him, and then he’d out with refer
ences, and agree to get them out cf limbo
for a share of the proceeds.
“Well, you gentlemen would hardly be
lieve it, but when 1 fust jioed him he had
over fifty clues of buried stuff—plunder’s
the. English of it. About one-third was
generally bogus, but I gave it up; it was
rakiu’ too many chances; cost too much.
How so? Well, hire’s one. In a jail in
Ohio the Preacher—that was tbe name he
went by—struck a chap who was in for
twenty years, and his itatement was that
he’d been smugglin’ on the Canada line,
and was arrested for manslaughter‘while
bnngin’ over $50,000 worth of diamonds.
There was five stones, and where do you
suppose they were? The paper said they
were plugged m the teeth of a Hamiltonian
mare called Rose, that be’onged to a
stableman m a little Canada town near the
river. He'd hired her for the time.
Well, we started after the marc, found the
stableman^and he’d sold her to a farmer
in a piace called Lincoln, Vermont. When
we got there the man had sold her to a
N«w York city dealer for a brood mare.
His name was Smith, and he lived in New
York north of 100th street. It took about
two mouths to run him down, and when
we did he’d sold the mare down in Jersey,
ani there we found her. A sportin’
farmer hai her. She looked pretty bad,
but we’d spent over $1,500 tracin’ her,
and my pal tried to buy her. But the
man wouldn’t sell, sc we had to breaa
into the stable, and that put us into the
grip of the law. But we won’t caught.
Oh, nti! We got in all right, and 1 held
the mare’s mouth open while he felt for
tbe stones with a dark lantern. Every
one was gone but one. The fillings had
oil been broken off by the hit probably,
and the stones hai dropped out or been
swallowed; so we didn’t pay expenses.
‘The tooth dodge is tol’able, but the
small-pox patient beats that. They never
want to examine him. It’s bceu played
all along tbe line. A3 I was Hayin’, 1 got
out of this aad went on my own hook.
Host every town has yarns or stories about
buned things, and when 1 made np my
mind there was any truth in it, 1 located
what 1 thought was tbe spot and went to
work.”
But how do you locale the treasure? ’’
asked one of his listeners.
“Well, that’s a secret of the trade,”
was the reply. “It took me ten years to
learn, and I reckon I won’t give it away
in a minute. Sometimes I don’t locate
it. Yes, I’ve struck some curious thins,
especially in trees. Now there’s where it
takes science. If you bide something in a
hole in a tree, when it grows over it most
always makes a bunch; sometimes it leaves
a kind of a si t in the bars, and then a
Over on Long Island I found an
Indian hatchet in a tree that the owner
had stuck in the bark and forget. An
other time I found the skeleton of a man
in a big willow. The man had either
been stowed away in the bole or had
climbed m and been struck by lightning
or something. Anyway, the tree had
grown over the old hole and completely
covered the skeleton. No, gold’s scarce,
though I have found coin in trees.
‘I’ve dug every cointy on the cowt
from Maine to Florida,” he continued.
•There's been more dlggin’ in Jersey
lees found than in any Slate. Home
(arms Has been salted, to my knowledge.
I know an old bog of' a place, worth
about $50. and one day a chap came
along and paid $1,000 for it. How was
it done? Wby, the owner bought up a
lot of old coin, put it in an old box. and
buried It. Then he bad a party dig it up
and show tbe coin to some parties, who,
thinking that there was mflra ’here,
bought it up as soon as possible, and 1
reckon that old farm was well dug.
“I’ye bad better luck,” said tbe old
banter, ‘on tie Maine coast than any
where. On sn—ntand, about s mile
uouod. I made my best find. 1 was
sailin’ among tbe- islands, snd seem’s
little harbor I put in. and the first tiling
that struck my fancy was two lane pecu
liar trees, each having a huge branch that
looked like aa arm, aad both platin' to i
•put aboat fifty yisds away. Bays I to
myarir, *it anybody ever landed here, and
WMtedtoblde hay stuff, they’d look lor
pints to lUfiiftr it by, wd thorn tbsre
pmteil at, and dug trenches leadin’ out
and around for about twenty toot, and
after workin’ half a day. sure euough I
struck a chest, the pick goin’ clean
through. 1 worked it out careful, and
thought my fortune was made; but, when
I came to open the blamed thing, theie
was nothing there but some old papers—
deeds and the like, I reckon —all
monldy, and not a word in them that
you could make anything out of. I
reckon they was valuable papers once.”
“Yon said just now it was your best
find,” said the reporter.
“Worst 1 meant; mv worst it was,”
said the old man—•*’ nothin but old
papers. •’
“X beard you deposited over $5,000 in
gold bars about that lime,” we continued.
“I never saw $5,000 in my life,” re
plied tbe old man, evidently somewhat
confused. “You’ve go*, me mixed with
another party. Yes, 1 know old Marble
of Dungeon Hock. 1 ain’t seen him for
years, and 1 reckon he’s dead. He
thought the spirits told him that there was
treasure in the rock back of Lynn, so he
dug and blasted for twenty years or mote,
and there’s a cave there now that’s a sight
to see. They called him a crank, but,”
and here the old man closed his wicked
eye, “he bad horse sense enough to charge
twenty-live cents to show folks around the
cave, and they do say as how it paid.”
A Hone Thiers Romance,
Recently a romance was consummated
away up iu the Adriondacks which, in
tangled plot and novel details, claims
fabulous Christmas tales that are just
now being pnnted. The story is told
by a man whi came to Gloversville
from Sageville. Hamilton county. Fred
Kodenck, a young man of 25 or 26
years, of burly frame, but with a certain
manly charm m his rough ways, the
Felling a Tree.
The chopper down of trees iu the
woods of Maine works upon bended
knee. Before beginning to cut, he has
looked to see which way the tree is in
clined. For this he steps back a short
distance to where he can see to its very
top. If he is in doubt he lifts liis axe
by the end of the helve and and lets it
hang freely suspended. This gives him
a plumb line by which he measures the
inclination of the trd?. But it is not
enough to determine in what direction
the tree will fall most readily. It may
be that large trees are standing right in
the way of its falling on that side, and
against these the tree will be lodged. It
must be carried to one side or the other
and herein consists one of the mysteries
of woodcraft—the skill to guide a tree
in its fall. II: will direct it with the
greatest ease. Having decided where
he wants it to go to avoid the risk of
lodging against other trees, or being
broken by falling on uneven ground, or
to have it lie so that the logs will be
convenient of removal, the chopper first
undercuts the tree—that is he cuts
upon the side toward which he will
have it fall, and in such a manner that
the line along which the tree is to lie.
If the tree stands nearly perpendicular,
and has no inclination to fall as he
wishes, the chopper cuts a little beyond
the heart oh that side. By doing thU
he removes tho base when the tree is
ready to fall, and rests upon a base o£
but an inch or two in breadth. The
effect of this will be very great.in mov
ing the base so that the centre of grav
ity will fall on the side desired.
Though he works in so cramped a post
ure, tne chopper cuts the stump so level
and so smooth he thinks his little boy
could spin his top upon it.
Having undercut the tree with the
son of a popular old guide up at Indian I greatest care, the wood mail now
lake, has been confined in- Hto-LTimiUou' ^’• 1 ^S e3 his position a little, but re
county jail at Ssgeville, for the pist tour
five months, awaiting trial on the
eharge of stealing a pair of horsei from
a farmer of that county. Every Sunday
afternoon the Kev. Arthur Chambers, the
pastor of the Methodist church in the
village, in company with a dozen or fif-
een members of his congregation, holds a
prayer-meeting and soag-meeting in the
jail.
For two years it has been the habit of
Miss Agnes Aus'in, the young and by no
means uncomely daughter of the village
apothecary, to join the missionary band,
and her sweet voice is credited with hav
ing influenced many a tough-hearted pris
oner to experience conversion. The first
Sunday after Roderick’s arrest she became
arqna’ntcd with him during the meeting,
noticed without exciting remark that she
was oftener in a side corridor doing indi
vidual work with Prisoner Roderick, as
the chaplain and his band thought, than
at her customary post in the choir labor
ing for the general salvation After a
month or so, by permission of the Sheriff,
she made special and irregular week-day
Visits with the prisoner, assuring the jail
attendants that her heathen was fast fall
ing under the influence. Finally she be
gan to neglect her Sunday work, but her
week-day visits liecame more frequent
This led to some little whispering among
her deserted co-wurkers, but no general
suspicion was aroused.
mme five or six weeks ago Roderick
confessed conviction at a Sunday meeting,
giving at the same time hearty praise ami
credit to the evangelizing efforts of Miss
Austin. But this ODly bred envy in the
several breasts of her deserted co-workers,
and tongue after tongue began to wag
until at every fireside in the community it
was the chief topic discussed With the
post-office loafers Aggie Austin’s name
was in aa opprobrious sense connected
with that of Fred. Roderick and all s >rts
of reckless talk was indulged in. Mr.
Austin vainly forbade his daughter from
continuing her visits to the jaiL Tbe
father then called on the sheriff, and in
this way was more successful, for the
visits were at once Interdicted.
Two weeks ago Agaes disappeared from
her home, and nothing was heard of her
whereabouts until last Friday, when a
constable came riding into Sageville with
Agnes behind him. She was taken before
the magistrate and sent to jail on the
charge of stealing one of the very horses
for the theft of which her lover was suf
fering onfinement. Tbe constable said
that she stole the horse in broad daylight,
and when pursued made but a feeble at
tempt to escape. Her story is that Fred
told her to eo to bi3 father's camp and
await his arrival, which would be as soon
as an opportunity for estSpe presented
itself. After waiting for him at the camp
tor more than a week, she says, she be
came desperate, and, resolving to join
nim in the jail, site ran away from the
camp with the deliberate intention of com*
m.'.ti gonecime that won.d place her
by bur 1 iver's side. Her stealing the same
horse that Fred had once stolen, she as
serts, was a simple accident Miss Aus
tin's bail was fixed at $600, but she re
fused to accept bondsmen and resume
her liberty. On Friday morning Roder
ick sent for the sheriff and informed
him that he wished to wed Agnes Aus
tin, wh-, when brought before the sheriff,
declared a similar desire. The girl being
19 years old, and, therefore, of tbe legal
age, the sheriff deemed it his duty to
comply with their wishes, and the com
mitting magistrate, Jarvis, was sum
moned. At 3 o'clock m tbe afternoon,
m the comflor of the jail, with the
sheriff and two deputies as witnesses,
the felon lovers were made one. The
District Attorney unpoeticaliy declares
that this moat remarkable-of Hymen’s
consolidations will not hinder him from
prosecuting the bride and groom on the
separate indictments. He promises, how.
ever, to try and bring both cases up at
the same term of court and tims allow the
pair to make their bridal journey together
to tneir future mountain dome at Clinton
prison.
aiua‘».
Senator Nye was not so particularly
witty in debate, and the speeches of
Procter Knott, McCreery or Sam Cox
were funnier than his were; neither had
he any Senatorial dignity whatever.
He had, in its place, a vast store ot
humor and genial humanity—better
articles—that. broughtjhim in love all
that he loBt in respect. Ho had more
humor than wit, although many of his
good things possessed the sharp scintil
lations of the last-mentioned article, as
when Horace Greeley sat down on the
Senator’s new hat, and picking up the
crushed stovepipe, he add, gravely: “1
could have told you it wouldn’t fit
before trying it on.” Or when, at a
dinner, emotional insanity was being
discussed, he remarked: “I admit the
right of the injured husband to vindi
cate his marriage bed by murdering
right and left, bat, after such vindie?
tion, be should come out sod be hang^
like a gentleman, tor society hasarig
to vindicate the lew. Wa most i
monte between tbe rights of hash.
ami hangman.”
mtiins on the same side, rests on his
other knee, and shifts hands, that is,
wields the axe with the upper hand for
ward. He now cuts upou the other
side, leaving the stump two or three
inches higher, accordiug as he wishes
to gain advantage for the last few
strokes. The work goes on with little
concern until the base is no thicker
than a plank and quite as even; then a
blow is aimed full at the centre, and
the chopper looks quickly at the top to
note the effect. If he perceives a
tremor iu the trunk, or if a bit of bark .
or moss is loosened from Its hold, he
knows how every stroke will tell, and
he aims these with the greatest precis
ion. Soon as ever the top bows to its
fall he marks the direction in which it
is moving. If he wishes to bring It
more toward liim lie strikes a blow upon
the farther edge; if to carry it farther
Irom him, the blew is given upon the
side that is nearer. Tuese last strokes
need to be given with great nicety. If
feeble, they will fail to effect their pur
pose; if of too great force, the tree will
be severed from the stump upou that
side, and then all control of it is lost
at once and ic plunges blindly forward.
A tall tree like the pine is broken from
the stump by a force acting quite dif
ferently from that which is applied in
the case of shorter trees. Iu Its de
scent the piue acquires at its top a cen
trifugal force so powerful as to lift the
tree from the stump and carry it for
ward live or six feet before it reaches
the ground. When it does come to the
earth the top and the butt strike at the
same time, and the tree lies half buried
in the snow.
Sea-Green and Pink.
“Practically speaking,” said a Fifth
avenue modiste, “there is very little
change in the fashions. Of course we
are all the time getting in new dresses
and wraps that are new in trimming
and drapery, but the style remains the
same, although they may look differ
ently.
“Here,” she continued, “is a dress
for a debutante who is coming out in a
few weeks at a magnificent ball given
by her father. The dress is really a
work of art. The long court train is
made of cream white satin and has a
niching of fine point applique lace
abiut it. The front is a petticoat and
entirely separate from the train. It is
of soft China silk and is covered with
lace ruffles graduated to the waist. The
bndioe is entirely of point duchesse
lace and is cut in a triangle in front
ana made with very short sleeves. She
is to have the front covered with tiny
pink roses—natural ones, you know
sewed on the evening she come3 out. ”
“It is pretty enough tor a bridal
dress,” said tbe reporter.
“She will probably only wear it two
or three times,’’said the modiste, “and
if she goes auywere and dances in it
there’s an end to it. Why, most of
these wealthy people come home from
one o f there F. C. D. C.’s or Patriarch
balls with perhaps a $500 lace flounce
all torn and a satin train costing $5 a
yard, filled with dust and ruined. They
do not seem to mind it, however, and
that is well for us.”
“What color is to be most fashiona
ble for evening dresses?” asked the re
porter.
“Not any one color in particular. It
was pink last year, but white was worn
extensively, and will be also this winter.
White always is fashionable, and some
young ladies will wear nothing else.
We make costumes for a young lady on
Madison avenue who has all her house
dresses, as well as evening dresses,
made of white material. I do not
think-she has more than four colored
dresses, and two of those are of black
velvet.”
“Sea-green,” she continued, “corn
flower blue and apple-blossom pink are,
Iiowever, to be worn extensively. We
are just making up a dress of the first
and last named colors. The material
is tulle, and the effect is beautiful. It
is called a sunrise costume. The under
dress is of the apple-blossom pink and
is made plain with a Josephine waist,
and over it is worn another dress of the
filmy sea-foam green tulle, through
which the pink is dimly seen. A girdle
of silver confines It at the waist and
claps of silver fasten the shoulders and
sleeves, the dress being made with low
neck and short sleeves.”
A omrman triple): HiryarJ stu
dent to Matthew Arnold—”We take
great pride iu onr English auoestrj,
Mr. Arnold.” Mr. Arnold- “Yon ought
to; there is no better stock.” Harvard
student—' *Bat I am glad the men of
English blood are not so nsmaroos in
this asuntry as they are in E lgland,”
Mr. Arnold (somewhat contused)—
“Why?” Harvard stnient—‘'Because
the saving virtues, you know, abide
with the minority.”