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THE TOCCOA NEWS
AND PIEDMONT INDUSTRIAL JOURNAL.
VOLUME XIX.
HER IN ALL THINGS, V"
Unto mine ear I set a faithful shell,
That as of old it might rehearse to me
The very music of the far off sea.
And thrill my spirit with its fluctuant
spell;
But not the sea’s tones there grew audible,
But Love’s voice, whispering low and ten¬
Of things derly
no dear that they must ever be
Unspoken, save what heart to heart may
till;
And bearing in the shell those tones di¬
vine,
Where once I heard the sea’s low sounds
confer,
1 said unto myself: •‘I’hislife of thine
Ilolds nothing, then, which is not part of
Her,
And all sweet things that to men minister
Como but from Love, who makes Her
heart his shrine.”
—P. 1!. Maraton,in New England Magazine.
Miss Ferobia’s Failure.
JJY HELEN WHITNEY CLARK.
“You’re a stannin’ in yer own light,
Feroby.”
Timothy Filbert shook Ill's head sol¬
emnly as he spoke. lie wa3 a large
man, with small, light blue eyes, and a
chronic stoop in the shoulders, sugges¬
tive of a too steady application to the
plow.
“You’re a stannin’ in yer own light,”
he repeated impressively.
“Mebbo you’re right, Timothy,” ad¬
mitted his sister, meekly. She was not
naturally of a meek disposition, but there
are times when tho most spirited
person feels crushed by circumstances,
and such a moment had come to Miss
Ferobia. Timothy felt somewhat pla¬
cated by the unexpected admission.
“’Tain’t too late yet,” he *uggestcd.
briskly, taking his seat at the breakfast
table, where his sister was already pour¬
ing the coffee. “You jest say the word,
Feroby, an’ I’ll give Jasou Sm dlweed a
hint that you’ve changed yer mind.”
His pale-blue eyes glanced inquiringly
at his sister, but Miss Ferobia’s momen¬
tary meekness seemed to have vauished as
unaccountably as it had appeared.
“1 haven’t changed my mind,” she re¬
torted with much asperity. “I won’t
marry Jason Smallweed, nor nobody else.
I’ll stay right here an’ keep house for
you tie balance of my days.”
Tin otliy wriggled uneasily. lie had
his own reasons for not appreciating the
generous offer. To fortify himself for
tho disclosure which must be made he
swallowod half his coffee at a gulp.
“1—I—the truth is, Feroby,” be
stammered, with a crimson countenance,
‘‘I felt so sartin I was a-goin’ to lose
you, I—I asked Nancy Garget, au’ she
said she’d have me.”
The cat was out of the bag now, and
Timothy mopped his face with his hand¬
kerchief and breathed a sigh of relief.
But Miss Ferobia, like a sensible
woman, bore the shock bravely.
“And how soon am I to give up my
situation?” she asked.
Timothy grew uncomfortable again.
“Hey? Oh!—why—you needn’t to be
in a hurry. It won’t come off for a
week yet,” he hastened to explain.
“An’, of course, you know I wouldn’t
hcv nothin’ agin yer stayin’ right along,
same as ever, only Nancy, she-”
“You couldn’t hire me to stay,” was
the reassuring answer, and Timothy con¬
gratulated himself on having the matter
so easily settled.
“It puzzled me considcr’ble to know
why Timothy was so sot on inc changin’
my mind,” reflected Miss Ferobia, as
she washed up the breakfast dishes and
polished the knives and forks. “But
it’s plain as a pike-staff now. I might
o’knowcd he was savin’ one word for me
an’ two for hisself.”
Miss Ferobia was as unlike her brother
in appearance as she was in disposition.
While he was stoop-shouldered she
was straight as au arrow. And though,
as she admitted, she was “getting along”
in years, her bright eyes and fresh com¬
plexion contradicted the assertion.
At her brother's request she remained
at her post until the wedding was over
and the bride installed in her new
home.
There was very little congeniality be¬
tween the two women, and Mrs. Timo¬
thy Filbert was disposed to triumph over
her sister-in-law.
‘‘1 s'pose you wasn’t a-couutin’ on your
brother mairyiu’,” she remarked, dis¬
agreeably, as she combed out her ink-
black tresses before the square-framed
looking-glass in the best room.
“He had a right to please himself,”
rejoined Miss Ferobia, composedly.
“But- what are you going to do?” per¬
sisted the bride. “As I told Timothy
before I promised to have him, the house
wa'u't big enough for two families, an’
you couldn't expect to stay after I
come.”
“Au* I told him, I wouldn’t stay if he
paid me for it,” retorted Miss Ferobia,
emphatically.
“Oh, vou’re mighty independent,”
sniffed Nauoy, tossing her head. “I
suppose you're a-calculatiu’ to take up
with Jason Smallweed. You wouldn’t
ketch me marryin’ a widderer,” she
added, maliciously. “If I couldn't be
the table-cloth 1 wouldn’t be the dish-
rag. But I s'pose he's Hobsou's choice
with you.”
The truth was that she was afraid her
sister-in-law might still manage to re-
tain a place iu the household by book or
by crook, aud she was determined to
provoke an altercation in order to prevent
.such a sequence.
But Miss Ferobia was not to be drawn
into a quarrel.
“He may be Hobson’s choice, but he
is not mine,” she returned, coolly.
Nancy, however, was as persistent
a gnat or a gadfly.
“I don’t doubt but what you'd rather
have Felix Byefield,” she' suggested,
slyly; “but you needn’t to count on git-
tin’ him, fur he'sa-koepia’ comp’ay with
the Widdcr Cheeseman, an’ everybuddy
says they're a-goin to marry after har-
vest.”
It was a random shpt on Nancy's part,
but her black eyes sparkled with
cious triumph as she saw by her sister-
in-law’s burning cheeks that the poisoned
anow had struck home.
Miss Ferobia deigned no reply, how¬
ever, but went coolly about preparations
for her own departure.
She had rented a small cottage and a
few acres of ground a mile or two from
the old homestead, and Timothy could do
no less than get out the spring wagon and
drive her to the new home.
It was yet early in the springtime, an’
the wild plum-trees were white with
bloom. The tall maples and elms by the
roadside swung their light tassels in the
soft breeze, and myriads of buttercups
and purple-hued pansies dotted the grass-
grown lanes.
“I dunno what you wanted of so much
ground ’round your house,” remarked
Timothy, reflectively, as the wagon rolled
easily along. “Half an acre would of
been enough, I should say.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” maintained his
sister, stoutly. “I’m a-goiu’ into the
gardenin’ business, to raise truck fur the
markets.”
Timothy whistled.
“You’ll make a failure of it, sure as
guns,” he declared, ruthlessly.
But Miss Ferobia was not to be dis¬
couraged.
“There’s plenty of men make a livin’
at it, an’ why not me?” she asked. “I’ve
got a little money laid by to start on.
An’ I’ve got a stout pair of arms, an’
never was sick a day in my life; so why
should I make a failure of it?”
But Timothy only shook his head and
remarked, vaguely, that it was “onprac-
ticable, and she would find out,” and
declined to commit himself further. And
the conference was cut short by their ar¬
rival at the cottage.
It was a lonely place,but Miss Ferobia
was blessed with strong nerves, and soli¬
tude had no terrors for her.
She had accumulated a few odds and
ends of furniture from time to time, the
gifts of various friends and relatives,
which went a good way toward furnish¬
ing her diminutive dwelling.
And when they were arranged to her
satisfaction, and a square of bright rag
carpet Licked down in the centre of the
room, Miss Ferobia felt as happy as a
king.
She was too tired after her day’s work
to do more than take a cup of .tea and
retire to rest. But a comfortable night’s
sleep on the old-fashioned square-posted
bedstead restored her energies, and for
the next few days she was as busy as a
nailer over her preparations.
Lem Dodson was hired to plow the
“truck-patch,” a cow with a young calf
was bargained for, and a few fowls of
the Plymouth Rock and Dorking species
were purchased and were soon cackling
vigorously around their new quarters.
After a little more help from neighbor
Dodson, and a vigorous use of the hoe
on Miss Ferobia’s part, the ground was
in readiness for planting, and the am¬
bitious market-gardener sat up till long
past her usual bed time looking over her
stock of seeds, and selecting those re¬
quisite for Immediate use.
There might still be late frosts, she re¬
flected, as such tender plants as beans
and cucumbers, summer squashes and
nutmeg melons, would be better out of
the ground than in it for a few days to
come.
But beets and lettuce, spinach and
marrowfat peas and rutabagas, would
stand auything short of a regular freeze,
and might be safely planted at once.
And, late though she sat up, the first
pink flush of early dawn did not find
Miss Ferobia nappiug the next morning,
nor for many mornings to come.
She was up with the birds, and after
a hasty breakfast out she sailed, and
hoed and raked, weeded and trans¬
planted, till her back ached and her fin¬
gers grew sore and her nose freckled and
her cheeks tanned. But gardening is
hard work, at best, and though Miss
Ferobia labored with a will, the grass
and weeds would creep in here and there
in spite of her vigilance. The purslane
— “pnsly" she called it—and horse-net¬
tles grew faster than her butter-head
lettuce or white spine cucumbers.
Then the weather was not always pro¬
pitious, and her first planting of sugar-
corn and early rose potatoes rotted in
the ground.
But Miss Ferobia, nothing daunted,
replanted the vacant rows with later va¬
rieties, and in due time the seed sprouted
and gave every promise of a luxuriant
crop.
But from that time on it was, as the
little woman declared, a “tussle” be¬
tween herself and the weeds.
While she was hoeing her cabbages and
kohl robies and weeding her silver-skin
onions, the cockle burrs and wild morn¬
ing glories were flourishing aniODg her
sweat corn and potatoes.
She worked early and late, however,
to eradicate the tenacious interlopers, and
finally succeeded in accomplishing her
task. When lo! one unlucky night Far¬
mer Nubbins's pigs forced their way
through a broken panel of the fence, and
played havoc among the growing crops.
Small wonder, indeed, if our heroine
lost her temper at last, and pelted those
pigs with clods, or whatever came handi-
est, and even whacked one of them across
the snout with the hoe-handle,
But with all her efforts it was late in
the day when the last one of the maraud-
ers was disposed of, and the fence patched
up, after a fashion.
(I will say here, in parenthesis, that 1
do believe a woman could vote, and even
make laws, and execute them, them, too,
as well as a man, under some cireum-
stances. When I say “under some cir-
cumstances,” I mean if she were not
hampered by prejudiced and unreasons-
ble colleagues. But when it comes to
patching rail-fences, the least said about
woman's capabilities the better.)
However. Miss Ferobia’s workmanship,
if not exactly artistic was sufficiently in-
genious to prevent further inroads in
that direction.
But for some reason, from that time on
the Fates seemed to turn a cold shoulder
on her efforts.
The rabbits feasted on her early York
cabbages and marrow.fat pease, the
striped bugs worked destruction on her
cucumbers and Cawuva meloss, the
TOCCOA, GEORGIA, AUGUST 8, 1891
rado bettle devastated her potatoes, and
•quaah-bugs ate up her Boston marrow*
and patty-pan squashes. The foxes,
minks, owls, and hawks, to say nothing
of opossums and weasels, thinned the
ranks of her young Dorkings and Ply¬
mouth Rocks; and, to make matters
worse, her cow turned out to be a
“jumper” and brought disgrace on her¬
self and trouble to her mistress by daily
raids on Farmer Nubbins’s corn-field.
This was the last straw, and, like the
mythical camel, Miss Ferobia broke down
under it.
“There ain’t no use a-tryin’, as I see,”
she lamented dolefully as she set out her
one cup and saucer, in readiness for her
tea. “A lone woman don’t have no
chance at all.
“An’ here I’ve spent all my money,
an’ my garden ain’t wuth shucks. And
Timothy, he’ll say he told me how
’twould be, and that I’d better o’ mar¬
ried Jason Smallweed. And I almost
b’lieve—I—would— No, I wouldn’t,
either. I won’t .take up with a crooked
stick, if I be nearly through the woods
_71
“Evenin’, Miss Feroby,” interrupted a
cheery voice, and there, framed in the
doorway, stood Felix Byefield. a smile
brightening his honest, sun-browned
face.
Miss Ferobia shook hands with her
visitor, and drew forth a chair for him,
with a secret fluttering at her heart as
she remembered her sister-in-law's insin-
uations.
But Felix was evidently bent on mak¬
ing himself agreeable.
“An’ so you’ve struck out for your¬
self,” he observed. “Gittin’ along first
rate, I opine. You must show me your
garden.”
“I haven’t got no garden, an’ you
sha’n’t see it,” declared Miss Ferobia,
inconsistently. “It’s all choked up with
weeds—I couldn’t keep ’em out. An’
what with the bugs, an’ rabbits an’ pigs,
I ain’t got a cabbage-head left skeer-
celv.”
“S’no’, now, you don’t say I Why, if
that ain’t too bad,” replied Felix, sym¬
pathetically.
“An’ the varmints has took all my
joung chickens,” continued Miss Fero-
bia. “An’ Farmer Nubbins is a-goin’ to
shoot my cow, an’, an’-”
The thought of all her woes was too
much for her, aud she began to sob,
hysterically.
“Don’t cry, Miss Feroby; please
don't,” urged Felix. “He sha’n’t shoot
your cow, I promise you.”
But Miss Ferobia shook her head and
dried her eyes on the corner of her
apron.
“I’ll sell the cow,” she declared,
soberly. “An’ I’ll go an’ hire out some¬
where. I can cook if I can’t make gar¬
den.”
“No need to hire out,” put in Felix,
eagerly. “I—I want somebody to cook
fur me. Say you’ll marry me, Feroby!”
But Miss Ferobia in her surprise stared
at him, then hung her head, blushing
like a girl.
“It’s so—sudden,” she whispered.
“What’s the odds?” asked Felix,
boldly. “I wanted you long ago, only I
couldn't somehow git the courage to ask
you. Say yes, won’t you, Feroby?”
And after a little more urging Miss
Ferobia did say yes, and felt very well
contented with her future prospects, in
spite ol her weedy garden.
“Timothy will say the truck business
was a failure after all,” she reflected, a?
she washed up her supper dishes at
night, with a very light heart, “but he
can’t say it was’nt a successful failure,
anyhow.”— Frank Leslie's.
Mushrooms as Food.
The alarming symptoms which occa¬
sion illy follow the U38 of fungi when
taken as food are familiar to most of our
readers. The risk in this particulai,
however, is less than it might be. In
actual market custom we recognize but a
very few forms of edible fungi, though it
must be allowed that even in these we
are liable to deception of a somewhat
dangerous kind. It is therefore a matter
of some importance that the public mind
should be informed as far as possible of
the qualities which distinguish the edible
from the poisonous varieties. To give a
precise definition which would also be
comprehensive is, however, no simple
matter, and as a matter of fact the num¬
ber of edible fungi, even in this country,
is much greater than is commonly under¬
stood. It may be said, however, that a
high color, a scaly or spotted surface,
and tough or watery flash are usually as¬
sociated with poisonous properties, while
the edible species are but seldom highly
colored, scaly or spotted, but usually
white or brownish, and brittle on frac¬
ture. The former, moreover, grow
clustered on wet or shady ground, the
latter singly in dry pastures. The com¬
mon British mushroom is known by its
pink hyineniuni or gills. Fungi which
have a bitter or styptic taste, or which
burn the fauces, as well as those which
yield a pungent milk, those of livid
color, and those which on brushing as¬
sume various hues, ought to be avoided.
It should be remembered also that all
plants of this class readily undergo de¬
composition, and should therefore be
eated as fresh as possible.— London
Lancet.
Caledonia in Canada.
In the Glengarry of Canada, where
more Gaelic is spoken than in Scotland
itself, there has just died a celebrated
piper named Cameron. This ancient
youth, when seventy-eight years old,
four years ago, performed the Highland
fling in a dancing competition at Corn-
wall, Ontario, and carried off a prize for
pipe playing on the same occasion. An-
other time he startled an Ontario town
by climbing to the top of a new church
steeple just before the weather cock was
put on, and standing on a couple of
planks, whence for half an hour he sent (
his beloved music skirling through the
astonished heavens .—Pall Mall Gazette .
—---
The famous four-post bedstead in Anne
! Hathaway’s cottage at Shottery, England,
j is rapidly disappearing, being gr%du*ll|
away b j relic hunters,
BUDGET OF FUN.
HUMOROUS SKETCHES FROM
VARIOUS SOURCES,
Not Pleasant—Supplying Her Need—
A Slangy Pun—The Favored
One—Not an Infant Phe¬
nomenon, Etc., Etc.
The sage grows very angry
And declares it isn’t nice,
When some highfalutin fellow ■
Gives him back his own advice.
— Epoch.
SUPPLYING HER NEED.
Mr. Dresden Ware—“I want to get a
set of crockery.”
Clerk—“Yes sir. For the table?”
Mr. Ware—“No. For the new ser¬
vant-girl.”— Puck.
AN EVERY-DAY ILLUSTRATION.
Johnson (scientific bore)—“Do you
believe in unconscious cerebration?”
Williamson (worn out)—“Oh, yes.
For instance, I don’t believe you know
what you are talking about right -ow.”
—Judge.
A SLANGY PUN.
Mrs. Uptown Flatte—“Jane is the
laziest parlor maid I ever saw v She sim¬
ply won’t dust.”
Mr. Uptown Flatte—“Then you'll have
to make her dust. Discharge her.”—
Munsey's Weekly.
THE FAVORED ONE.
A—“That wasn’t nice of you to re¬
fuse me the ten dollars I wanted to bor¬
row; one friend should always help
another.”
B—“Yes; but you always want to be
the other.”— Life.
A HUMAN SPONGE.
Hicks—“I don’t understand why it is
that Harduppc is always borrowing. He
ought to live comfortably on his salary. ”
Wicks—“Yes; but he prefers to live
comfortably on the salaries of bis
friends.”— Boston Transcript.
ENCOURAGING.
The Hostess—“Please sing, Mr.
Tenor.”
Mr. Tenor—“Really, you know, I have
no voice. I-”
The Hostess—“Oh, that won’t mat¬
ter. They are all talking and they
won’t hear you.”— Chicago News.
NOT AN INFANT PHENOMENON.
A—“That is your little daughter, I
suppose?”
B—Yes; and a wonderful child she
is.”
A—“Really! How is that?”
B—“See is already six years old and
doesn’t play the piano.”— Berner Zei-
tung.
TIE STAYED BECAUSE HE WAS GONE.
Father (at head of the stairs)—
“Emily, isn’t that young man gone
yet?”
“Young Spooner (answering)—“Yes,
sir; yes, sir, entirely; quite gone—on
your daughter, sir. But I’m afraid it’s
no go with her, sir.”— Detroit Free
Press.
couldn’t argue her out of it.
‘I don’t meet you at Miss Svelte’s any
more.'*
“No; she and I have had a difference
of opinion.”
“Nothing serious, I hope?”
“Oh, no; only I thought I was the
man she ought to marry and she thought
I wasn’t.”— Life.
A FAIR SHAKER.
Sageman—“A remarkable girl i3 that
Miss Snapper. You know her pretty
well; has she any leaning in the direc¬
tion of any particular Creed.”
Bluntly—“I can’t say definitely, but
the way she disposed of my martial aspi¬
rations last evening I should say she was
a Shaker.”— Boston Courier.
A FORCIBLE ANSWER.
“That’s the boom, isn’t it?” asked a
callow swell on board a yacht which Was
scudding along.
Just then the sail swung round, and,
as the youth clawed the lee scuppers
with one hand and his broken head with
the other, the skipper replied:
“You guessed it.”— New York Jour¬
nal.
ALONELYVILLE VENDETTA.
First Suburban Resident—“What’s
the trouble between Howson Lott and
his next-door neighbor, Lowe Moore?
They seem to be on bad terms, lately.”
Second Suburban Resident—“Well,
you see, Lott named his cottage “The
Crow’s Nest,” and then Moore turned
around and named his cottage “The
Eagle’s Nest;” and now they don’t
speak.” — Puck.
A BAPID HECOVERY.
“Wonderful cure in the case of Small-
edge.”
“What was it?”
“Why, you see, his legs were para¬
lyzed, he hadn't walked a step in five
years, and out of sympathy they made
him cashier of the Lone Star Bank. ”
“Well?”
“Well, in exactly two weeks he
skipped .”—Elmira Gazette.
THE FATAL NUMBER.
“Take these berries away,” said a
boarder at a cheap boarding house as he
handed his small allowance to the waiter.
“What is the matter with the ber¬
ries?” said the landlady.
“Nothing, madame; it is the number
I object. There are just thirteen, and I
don’t want to die before the year is
out.”
The landlady added another berry.—
Detroit Free Press.
a candid statement.
Old Moneybags—‘Before I give my
coaseat to Jour marriage/witb my daugh-
ter, I shall have to inquire how mush'
property you have, Mr. Gawle.” i
Young Gawle—“Not much at present,
sir, but I expect to inherit a large for¬
tune.”
Old Moneybags—“From whom, may I
ask?”
Young Gawle—“From my father-in-
law.” — Munsey's Weekly.
AN EGOTIST.__».
A New York club man, not above the
average in brains, was visiting a Detroit
girl recently, and when he went away she
was asking one of her friends about
him.
“I liked him well enough,” she said,
“but he talked horse too much, Did
you notice that?”
• “Well, no,” was the hesitating re¬
ply, “not exactly. He talked donkey to
me mostly.”
“I don’t quite understand,” she said,
puzzled somewhat.
. “Why he talked about himself.”—*
Detroit Free Press.
MR. HIGGINS DRAWS THE LINE.
.“Now,” said the housewife, “I have
some good warm roast beef, brown po¬
tatoes and hot coffee. I will give you
a good meal if you will wrestle awhile
with that woodpile after you have
eaten.”
“What sort o’ wood might it be?”
asked Mr. Hungry Higgins.
“Oak.”
Mr. Higgins drew his Prince Albert
toga around him with such vehement
dignity that it split up the back.
“The prospect,” said he, “seems to
p’int to a interior decoration and a hard¬
wood finish. Not a bad scheme at all,
as regards a house, but I don’t think it
can apply to a respectable human gent
like me. Good evenin’, ma’am?”
And soon, in the distance, the figure
of Mr. Higgins was indistinguishably
blended with the monochromatic gray-
ncss of the dusty road.— Indianapolis
Journal.
KINDNESS MISAPPLIED.
“What’s the matter?” asked the kind-
hearted old gentleman of the boy who
was weeping bitterly.
“I g-got two nice clean blocks, an’
them fellers took ’em away irom me.”
•‘Well! well!” exclaimed the old gen¬
tleman, “Did you waut them very
bad?”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“Hasn’t your mother any kindling?”
“No, sir, she ai-aint.”
“Father too poor to buy any?”
“N-no, sir?”
“Does he drink?”
“S-snme.”
“Humph. Very proper pride. I see
it all,” was the kind-hearted comment.
“But you wanted the blocks for kind-
dling, didn’t you?”
“N-no, sir.”
“What did you want them for, then?”
“I want ’em. t-to hit together and
m-make a dickens of a n-noise with,
sir.”
The kind-hearted gentleman turned
the corner almost at a trot to avoid miss¬
ing an appointment. —Washington Post.
An Odd Geography.
About 1700 a geography was intro¬
duced into the New York schools from
England, “A Little Description of the
Great World,” by Peter Heylyn. The
geographies of those days are the oddest
of all our text-book relics. The pre¬
vailing ideas of Europe and Asia were
tolerably clear, but the most of Africa
was a mysterious land, and the interior
of America—dart and unknown.
The Sahara Desert consisted of the
Land of Beledulgerid and the Land ol
Zaata, inhabited by wild beasts and pagan
peoples, said to be hospitable and
friendly, who eat cameL’s flesh and milk.
In Negro Land, or the center ol
Africa, were people without heads, who
had eyes and mouths in their breast.
The King resided at a town called Mousul,
where was a market for human flesh and
where a hundred slaves were killed daily
for the king’s table.
Wonderful stories came from the
French possessions along the Mississippi,
where the land was so fruitful that two
acres would return 400 bushels of corn.
In the land of Florida were found goodly
fruits and a goodly quantity of gold and
silver.
“Emeralds are found there alsoe, and
turquoises and pearls. The men of this
country doe naturally love ware and re¬
venge, inasmuch that they are continually
in ware with one or other.” —New York
Advertiser.
Education in Egypt.
It is reported that Egypt is making
great strides in educational progress, and
that the natives are not slow to appreciate
the advantages of the reorganized Gov¬
ernment schools, Since Moses went to
school in Egypt, and the University of
Alexandria was destroyed by Omar, edu¬
cation has never been at so low an ebb
in that country as during the past few
decades. In 18S7 there were only twelve
schools under the Minister of Public In¬
struction, with an attendance of 1919
pupils, of whom only fifty per cent, paid
fees, and the total receipts were $5000.
Last year the number of these schools
throughout the country, as far south as
Assuan, open to all races aud creeds, was
forty-seven; the attendance was 7397, of
whom sixty-two per cent, were paying
pupils, and the receipts reached nearly
$100,000. The increase is significant,
however, that all pupils must either
learn English or French, and it is signifi¬
cant that whereas m 1889 only fourteen
per cent, of them selected Eaglisb, m
in 1890 the proportion rose to twenty-
three per cent.— Picayune.
Japan’s Emperor has decreed that every
man who provokes a duel or accepts a
challenge shall pay a heavy fine and
refusal to fight when chollagal mil be
regarded as slander, and will be so
E. P. SHMPSOKT,
TOCCOA CEORCIA
And Machinery Supplies, Also, Repairs All Kinds of Machinery.
Pbbbliss Engines,
BOTH PORTABLE & TRACTION
Geiser Senarators & Shingle Mills
Farmers and others in want of either Engines or separators, will
SAVE MONEY by using the above machines. 1 am also prepared
to give Lowest Prices and Best Terms on the celebrated
«<ESTEY ORGANS.^
Cardwell Hydraulic Cotton Presses, Com and Saw Mills, Syrup
Mills and Evaporators. Will have in by early Spring a Full Stock of
White Sewing Machines
McCormick Reapers, Mowers and Self-Binders
Which need only a trial their Superiority. Call and see me be-
ore you buy. Duplicate parts of machinery constantly on hand.
A RICE-EATING MATCH.
A Curious Competition Among
Chinamen in San Franoisco.
A Chinese rice-eating match seems
something agine “new under the sun.” Im¬
a long table in the ironing-room of
Marchey’s boiled washhouse. A huge dish of
rice in the centre aud fifteen
bowls of boiled rice close to the edge of
the table. Fifteen bald-pated, pigtailed
Celestials stand in front of the fifteen
bowls of boiled rice, and fifteen chop
sticks are grasped in the rig] ht bands and
fifteen more in the left n ands of the
fifteen Celestials who stand before the
fifteen bowls of boiled rice. Fifteen
pairs of almond-shaped eyes watch
eagerly, hungrily the every movement of
Marchey, their patron, who is soon to
call time.
Marchey is a Chinese sport, ne docs
not wear a mustache, but he does carry a
cane. He does not wear a pigtail, but
he does wear civilized habilaments, even
to four-in-haud. a stand-up collar and being a gaudy silk
Beside an all-
around sport, Marchey is proprietor ol
the laundry in which the wonderful rice-
eating contest is to take place. Marchey
celebrates all holidays. Last Memorial
day he had a fat-euting contest, with a
grand capital prize of $2.
This year the capital prize was the
same. Hop Kong, Iiam Kee, Ti Jing
You, Ti Jing See, Lee Long, Charlie
Hop and T’sing Po were the leading
contestants. The others could not win,
for they had not starved long enough.
Ti Jing You had been without food
for twenty-four hours. “Time,” or its
equivalent in the Mongol tongue, was at
last called out by Maichcy, who stood
at the head of the table, watch in hand.
The chopsticks flashed like lighming.
As fast as one bowl was emptied another
bowlful was set before the contestants
by one of the three busy attendants.
For half an hour they ate and not a
word broke the stillness. The specta¬
tors, a few of Marchey’s friends, watched
in silent amazement. Then the feasters
began to reel and stagger, and it was
noticeable that none of the contestants
could stand as near the table as before.
Then they dropped off one after another
and sank exhausted and almost bursting
into odd corners and dilapidated chairs.
When the hour was reached only Ti Jing
You was still eating. He was declared
the winner of the capital prize. The
other contestants had their stomachs full
for their pains,—[San Francisco Chron¬
icle.
The Great Fighters of Africa.
A Zulu impi (warrior)—there are few
civilians in the Zulu tribe—is physically
almost perfect, averaging six feet in
height, deep, broad-chested and taper¬
ing down wedge His shape to a pair is of large,
strong feet. native dress scant,
composed simply of a narrow band
around the body, from which dangle
hundreds of monkey tails or strips of fur
curled in imitation of monkey tails. Add
to this his assagai, war club and cow¬
hide shield, and you have a Zulu war¬
rior quite a la mode. The Zulu warrior
always wears a crown or ring on his
head. This crown is made of a com¬
position known only to this tribe, and is
placed on the head hair when and in a puttylike
consistency, the wool being
woven and drawn through the compos¬
ition, so that when dry it can never
come off unless the head i3 shaven.
A Zulu without a crown is no war
rior, and is usually cowardly and effem¬
inate. A warrior would not part with
his crown for the wealth of the world.
It is his emblem of manhood, and to
lose it would be to reduce him to the
rank of boys and cowards. lie could
own no cattle or wives, have no voice in
the councils, and, in fact, would be an
outcast. If in a war he should have his
crown taken from him, be will, if
strength remains, throw himself on the
enemy's assagais and die, and if wound¬
ed so that he cannot reach the enemy
will end bis life by driving his own as¬
sagai through his body.—[New York
Press.
THE MAX OF THE HOUSE.
“What are you sitting on that step
^^y» I live , t ? ie Policeman. here, and I locked ...
m
_
yoa riDg " p the *“
„ m the ma „ o( lho ctmyself,”
the way he said it indie
NUMBER 31.
RICHMOND OAlWILLt K-R.
Atlanta and Charlotte Air-Line Division.
Condensed Schedule of Passengei
Trains, in Effect May loth, 1891.
NORTHBOUND. No. 38. No, 10. No. 12.
KASTEBX TIME. Daily. Daily. Daily.
Lv. Atlanta (E.T.) 1 25 pm 7 00 pm 8 10 am
Chatnhlee..... 7 33 pm 8 43 am
Noreross....... 7 45 pm 8 55 am
Duluth........ 7 57 pm 9 06 am
Suwanee....... 8 08 pm 9 17 am
Buford........ 8 22 pm 9 33 am
Flowery Gainesville..... Branch 8 36 pm 9 48 i<m
3 01 pm 8 55 pm 10 11 am
Lula.......... 3 ‘23 pm 9 ‘28 pm 10 40 am
Bellton........ 9 26 pm 10 43 am
Cornelia....... 9 52 pm 11 09 am
Mt. Aiiy....... 9 56 pm 11 14 am
Toccoa......... 10 26 pm 11 45 am
Westminster... 10 07 pm 12 35rm
Seneca Central........ ........ 11 12 30 pmjl2 1 55 45 pm
10 am pm
Easleys........ 12 39 am 2 15 pm
Greenville ...... 6 05 pm 1 04 am 2 40 pm
Greers......... 1 30 am 3 11 pm
Wellford....... 1 46 am 3 28 pm
Spartanburg... 6 57 pm 2 07 am 3 50 pm
Clifton........ 2 26 am 4 08 pm
Gaffneys....... Cowpens ...... 2 30 am 4 13 pm
3 00 am 4 39 pm
Grover......... Blacksburg..... 3 20 am 4 57 pm
3 82 am 5 08 pm
King’s Mount’ll 3 53 am 5 26 pm
Gastonia....... 4 20 am 5 51 pm
Lowell........ 4 33 am 6 04 pm
Bellemont..... 4 44 am 6 14 pm
Ar. Cliar.otto...... 9 20 pm 5 10 am 6 40 pm
SOUTHWARD. No. 37. No. 11. No. 9.
Daily. Daily. Daily.
Lv. Charlotte...... 7 55 am 1 40 pm 2 30 am
Belh-mont..... ........ 2 02 pm 2 57 am
Lnwt-11......... ........ 2 il pm 3 08 am
Gastonia....... ........ 2 22 pm 3 22 am
King’s Mount’ll ........ 2 44 pm 3 53 am
Grov. r......... ........ 2 59 pm 4 13 ain
Gaffneys....... Blacksburg.... ........ 3 3 08 pm 4 24 am
........ 25 pm 4 43 am
Clifton........ Cowpeus...... ........ 3 3 48 pm 5 10 am
........ 51 pm 5 15 am
Spartanburg... Wellford........ 9 55 am 4 12 pm 5 32 am
........ 4 39 pm 5 57 am
Greers......... ........ 5 00 pm 6 16 am
Greenville...... 10 5C am 5 33 pm 6 47 am
Easleys......... ........ 6 07 pm 7 16 am
Central ........ ........ 6 55 pm 8 10 am
Seneca......... ........ 7 22 pm 8 38 am
Westminster.... ........ 7 42 pm 8 58 am
Toccoa ........ ........ 8 20 pm 9 So am
Mt. Airy....... ........ 8 55 pm 10 10 am
Cornelia....... ........ 9 00 pm 10 15 am
Bellton........ ........ 9 26 pm 10 43 am
Lula.......... 1 32 pm 9 30 pm 10 » am
Gainesville..... 1 50 pm 9 b2 pm 11 11 am
Flowery Branch ........10 15 pm 11 46 31 am
JJnfonl........ ........ 10 30 pm ll am
Suwanee....... ........ 10 44 pm 11 59 am
Duluth........ ....... 10 56 pm 12 12 pm
Noreross...... ........11 08 pm 12 24 pin
Chamblee...... ........11 22 pm 12 37 pm
At. Atlanta (E. T.) 3 25 pm 11 59 pm 1 15 pm
Additional trains Nos. 17 and 18—Lula ac¬
commodation, daily except Bnnday, leaves At¬
lanta 5 30 p m, arrives Lula 8 12 p m. Return¬
ing, leaves Lula 6 00 a m, anives Atlanta 8 55
am.
Between Lula and Athens—No. 11 daily, ex¬
cept Sundi^, and No. 9 daily, leave Ln a 9 35 p
m, and 10 60 a. m, arrive Athens 11 35 p m and
12 50 pm. Returning leave Athens, No. 10
daily, except Sunday, and No. 12 daily, 7 00 ,i m
and 8 30 am, arrive Lula 900 pm and 10 30
a m.
Between Toccoa and Elberton—Nos. 61 and
63 dailr; except Sundav. leave Toccoa 11 45 a m
and 4 20 am, arrive Elberton 3 35 p ni and 915
a m. Returning, Nos. 60 and 62 daily, except
Sunday, leave Elberton 2 45 p m and 5 45 a in,
arrive Toccoa7 10 pm and 915 am.
Nos. 11 and 12 carry Pullman Sleep Nos. rs be¬
tween Washington and Atlanta, and 9 and
10 Pullman Sleeper between Atlanta and New
York.
On No. 11 no change in day coaches from
New York to Atlanta.
Nos. 37 and 38, Washington and Southwest¬
ern Yestibuled Limited, between Atlanta and
Washimjton. On this train an extra fare is
charged on first-clans tickets only. local and
For detailed information as to
through time table*, rates and Pullman Sleep¬
ing car reservations, confer with local agents,
or address, McCLE'KEY,
JA8. L. TAYLOR, L. L.
Gen’l Pass. Ag’t. Div. Pass. Ag’t.
Washington, D. O. Atlanta Ga.
W. H. GREEN. O. P. HAMMOND,
Gen’l Manager. Superintendent.
LEWIS DAVIS,
VTTOPNEY AT LA W
TOCCOA CITY, GA.,
Will practioe in the countie* of Haber¬
sham and Rabun of the Northwe*’ern
Circuit, and Frankl o and Banks of the
Western Circuit. Prompt attention will
oe The given to all busmen entrusteoNo him.
collection of debts will have sp<-o-
ial attention.
Though the floods that have occurred in
some of the Western States have destroyed