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J ameson’s Transformation
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c AMESON was busy
opening his morning
mail and giving in¬
structions to his
ioc»„ clerks with surly
curtnese. Presently
he picked up a large
_
square envelope and paused, with the
paper-knife poised, ready to be in¬
serted under the flap. A whiff of vio¬
lets had greeted him as he took the
letter in his hand.
“Humph!” ho snorted, as he looked
at tho address and the red seal on the
back, and wondered whom the unusual
letter could be from. Sauare envel¬
opes had no place in business corres¬
pondence, and business letters are
more likely to Rmell of brimstone than
of violets. Alter the first surprise he
inserted the paper knife and gave a
savage rip. As the knife passed
through, it brought out the end of a
little blue ribbon, and a moment later
the surly lumber merchant had a
valentine in his hand. He felt dazed
as he looked at the flimsy lace paper
and the little pink and white Cupids
that smiled out at him. Turning it
over he saw, written on tho baek in a
childish hand:
“With love to papa, from Millie.”
A valentine from his little daughter,
the first he had ever received! He
read the simple verse that was piinted
on it:
If your heart be pure and free,
I pray you give your heart to mo,
I with love will give yon mine,
Let me be your valentine.
As lie handled it gently with his
rough, hard fingers, a glow pervaded
him, ns if something for which he had
been longing all his life had come at
last. Just then he heard a titter be¬
hind him, and, turning quickly, saw
that tho typewriter girl had been
■watching. With a muttered oath he
threw the valentine to tho back of his
desk, and a feeling almost of nausea
overcame him. The success with which
ho had been satisfying his pride and
starving his heart became odious to
him in an instant, and the emptiness
of his life came back with stinging
force. What did it matter that he had
fought his way from the lumber-camps
in tho backwoods of Maine to the
position of foremost lumber dealer in
New York? He had allowed himself
to be married for his money; he was
a stranger in his own house ; he was
hardly acquainted with his only daugh¬
ter, because, forsooth, his wife kept
them apart for fear the child should
acquire the Scotch burr he inherited
from his parents, and for which he
was freely ridiculed. She must acquire
a pure English accent, and to this end
had been sent away to a fashionable
boarding-school, alter a preliminary
course of study with an imported gov¬
erness. Faugh! It made him sick to
think of it. Only work would give
him eveu a fleeting relief. He must
bestir himself, instead of dreaming.
She had sent him the valentine simply
because other girls were sending them,
not because she meant it! The heart¬
sick, lonely man roused himself from
his unpleasant reverie and resumed
the work of tho day. He punished
tho tittering typewriter by giving he;:
enough work to keep her fingers
rattling the keys until after hours.
Then he went into the yard to see how
things wera going on. Everything
was wrong.
“Here!” he growled to his foreman,
“don’t you know enough to pile them
planks wi’ the heatt side down? You’re
piling them sap down, an’ they’ll check
an’ rot. How many times have I told
you how to do it? Can’t I ever learn
you to do it right?”
One after another, the workmen
wero scolded, and they, good men,
credited it all to tho “old man’s stylish
wife.”
“He’s been havin’ another row at
home,” they said, “an’ is takin’ it out
of us.”
“I With love will give you mine,
“Let me be your valentine.”
tt -1 , ,. Ait U doagUter , , . aid lore ,
him? What if she, alone among stran-
gers, were lonely too? Humph! What
an old tool he was. What could he do
about it? He had married a woman
who was above his station and below
his wealth, and would have to endure
his mistake. Still that little valentine
with its Cupids and lace paper and silly
little rhyme, jammed into a corner of
his desk, would force itself upon his
mind. And a sweet faced little girl
wouM look wistfully at Him. M as she
loneiy too and heart sick? How he
did long for the pure child love that
his only daughter should be giving
him! How he would lavish all his
love on her! Then he thought of his
Scotch burr, the rolling r’s that he
could not soften, and he laughed. His
laugh was not good to hear. The
heavy grizzled eyebrows were knotted
into a tierce frown, aud his shaved
upper lip became harder, and squarer,
and sterner over his whistered chin,
Still the little rhyme and the wistful
face would come back to him.
After making Himself thoroughly
disagreeable to everybody he returned
abruptly to his de>k. He made a feint
at occupying himself with his papers
and finally picked up the valentine.
He looked at the writing again.
“With love to papa, from Millie.”
Again the wistful face looked at him,
and as the repressed love of his heart
welled up a mistiness came over his
eyes. He sprang from his seat and
walked hurriedly out into the street,
with the valentine in his pocket. Per¬
haps mingling with the crowd would
rid him of his brain-sick fancies. But
ii didn’t.
“Dngald Jameson,” he muttered to
himself, “are you acting the part of a
father, or a Christian, in not ruling
your own household? Have you not
neglected your duty? Where is all
your strength of will and the manliness
that has made you succeed in life, if
you will let a woman who neither loves
nor honors you rule over you?” Then
the cold indifference of his wife came
back to him like a blow in the faee;
the bitter discovery that she merely
endured his awkward caresses, the
feeling that he was repulsive to her,
then the years of well-bred contempt.
It staggered him, but it was love and
not pride that was ruling him now,
and he rose serene over all obstacles.
He forgot the mother. Only the
daughter, bone of his bone and flesh
of his flesh! How his heart yearned
for her! It was then that Jameson was
transfigured by a great resolution that
lit his hard face with love and changed
his uneasy gait to that of a strong and
happy man.
Jameson telegraphed to the superin¬
tendent of the school to send his
daughter home by the next train.
Then he went home to make prepara¬
tions for her reception.
“Set things in order in Millie’s
room,” he called cheerily to the
housekeeper, when he entered the
mansion in which ho had hitherto
been a lodger. “She will be home to¬
night.”
“What!” exclaimed his astonished
wife, who was attracted to the spot
by the hearty tone in which the order
was given. “What do you mean?”
‘T mean that our daughter is coming
home! And she’s coming home to
stay. I have telegraphed for her.”
“Have you lost your senses?”
“No! I have found them! I am
going to be the head of this family !”
“Who has been putting these line
notions into your head?”
“Woman,” he exclaimed, towering
to his lull height and making use of a
Scotticism that at another time would
have made her smile, “I have neglected
my duty too long. After this my
daughter shall be educated in her own
home, as a Christian child should be,
even if I have to hire the whole school
to come here to teach her !”
“This is outrageous!” said his wife,
angrily. “Is it not enough that I must
endure you and your uncouth ways
that are a constant source of shame to
me among my friends, without Millie
being brought home to learn them
from you? I intended that she should
be a lady.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to
say—“and you’d marry her to a title
as you yourself married money,” but
the love that was in him made him
feel kindlier to all the world, and all
her sarcasms and storming could not
afiect him. Jameson had covered him¬
self with the panoply of silence that is
the birthright of everyone of Scotch
descent, and made no reply. Finally
she burst iDto tears aud left the room.
He then took out the valentine aud
looked at it again. To his unedu¬
cated taste the little chromo Cupids
were high art, and the little sentimen¬
tal rhyme true poetry. It was beauti¬
ful to look at. It should be framed 1
Ho looked about the walls to find a
suitable place to put it, and decided it
i should be put in the place of that ab¬
surd little Meissonier that had cost
such a mint of money. The little
Cupid looked more roguish than ever
as it realized what its fate was to be,
and the face that rcse in the old man’s
memory was no longer wistful and
lonely. It was trustful and happy as
a child’s should be, and his heart sang
1 within him .
"When ihe train stopped at the sta¬
tion the little girl that was carefully
helped off by a prim teacher was
picked up with such an embraced as
she had never felt before. She was
j but a little wisp of a thing, and he
carried her in his arms to the carriage
j as if she were a child of three instead
of a young lady of ten, with the irri-
tating grown-up manners that children
of these days have. Of course it was
a shock to her, but there is something
conquering iu strength and love, and
she was soon cuddling up against his
j shoulder, listening to his occasional
broken expressions of affection and
feeling the pressure of his protecting
arm about her. The intuition of chil-
dren is quick, and before they reached
home they were like old cronies, and
she even forgot to wonder why she
and her father had not been like this
before.
The mother’s tearful face was a sur-
prise to her, but the mother was too
much overcome by the conflict with
her husband in the afternoon to have
anything to say. She loved her daugh-
ter, too, as only a woman who lives a
life of self-inflicted suffering can love,
bat she let her affection spend itself in
ambitions plans. Bnt ehe never took
the trouble to understand the man with
whom she had linked herself, and now
he had risen in his might, and she felt
that defeat and utter misery were be¬
fore her. She kissed her child again
and again, and pleading a headache
left the two together.
What a supper they had, and with
what a dainty air Millie played the
hostess and poured his tea for him,
and how she rattled on about her
schoolmates and her little troubles,
while he listened with his face beaming
unbounded love! After supper he
showed her that he had the valentine
in his pocket, and they pledged them¬
selves to be true to one another for a
year and a day. She sat on his knee,
and at last fell asleep while listening
to stories that he had heard from his
mother many hard and long years ago.
Then he carried her tenderly up to
her room and he helped a nurse to put
her into her cot. After tucking her
in ho stood looking at her innocent,
beautful face buried in curls and rest¬
ing on her little tired arm. It was
something he bad never seen before,
and was all so pure and sacred ha
feared to stoop audj kiss her “good¬
night.”
His reverie was interrupted by the
sound of a sob, and looking up hastily,
he saw his wife half-hidden in the
curtains at the other side of the bed.
Her face was haggard and miserable.
She had suffered too, but why? Then
the cwo souls, that were hitherto blind
and dumb and yet joined by the bond
of a great love for their child, at last
saw and understood. He -tip-toed to
her side, and as he put his arms about
her she did not think him awkward.
She saw the great good heart that was
under all his uncouthness, and the
years of misery were no more.
The little valentine was not put in
the frame that held the Meissonier. It
was altogether too sacred a thing to
be profaned by the eyes of the care¬
less.—P. McArthur, in Truth.
Largest Bicycle in the World.
Beautiful Daisy Bell’s bicycle built
for two isn’t a circumstance to the bi¬
cycle built for two thousand to be
seen at the Paris Exposition. This
latter is to be the very behemoth of
bicycles, the largest wheel ever built.
It could be ridden only by a giant
more than twice as tall as tho Colossus
of Rhodes. But the monster machine
will never be moved from its place on
the Exposition grounds. 2t is, in fact,
a carofully constructed edifice of the
best Bessemer steel, and what the Eiffel
Tower was to the last Paris Exposition
the big bicycle is to this. •
This monster wheel is taller than
any of the tall buildings surrounding
it. Its saddle would just overtop
Weather Prophet Dunn’s observation
tower on the roof of Gotham’s tallest
office building. All the other dimen¬
sions are in proportion. But the big
bicycle is a very complete building in
itself, It has two large entrances,
one at the bottom of each of its wheels,
cut right through the tires. Winding
stairways lead from the doors up the
front and back of each wheel
through the forward and rear stand¬
ards to the backbone of the ma¬
chine. Thence spiral stops ascend to
the handle bar and saddle.
The backbone of the big bioycle
contains a grand salon scarcely aa
many spans in width as it is yards in
length. It is intended principally for
use as a banquet hall. One long table
runs down the centre through its en¬
tire length, at which six hundred per¬
sons may be seated comfortably.—
Philadelphia Press.
Spiders as Personal Pets.
The spider is aa obnoxious insect is
one of the popular fallacies which
often diminish the real pleasure which
life holds for those who are capable of
enjoying it. The spider is not an ob¬
noxious insect at all. In the first place
it is not an insect. In the second
place, so far is it irom being hurtful
or offensive, that it can be made one
of the dearest little pets in the world.
Margaret Wentworth Leighton, in a
current magazine article, tells how
she collected a common or garden t
spider, and kept the sweet lady under
a glass tumbler for three weeks. She
watched her “building her house of
snowy silk” and raising a family, and,
says the writer, “she soon learned to
take flies from my hand and drink
water from a leaf which I gave her
fresh every day.” The delicate beauty
and tender-heartednes?8 ot' feeding,
presumably, live flies to the dainty
pet, is to bo noted with unbounded
admiration.
This shows how spiders may be
tamed aud made much of by auy one
>yho appreciates their loveliness. That
they are useful beasts in relation to
the depletion of flies and mosquitoes
is well known, and a dozen ,^, or so pet
spiders • j in - a bed u j room would do much ; <
for the comfort and peace of mind of
the summer boarder.—New York Mail
and Express.
Easiness That Nears Perpetual Motion.
“So they have discovered perpetual
motion out m your State, Colonel
Blue,” said Major Pickier to the Reo-
resentative-at-Large from Kansas, as
they took seats in the House restau-
rant for an oyster feast,
“They have discovered all the other
crankisms out there, so I am prepared
for any new allegations. Elucidate!”
replied the Colonel, sententiously.
“Why, a man from Kansas has just
been telling me that a firm composed
of moneyed men has bought a lot of
land m Kansas, and will stock it with
1000 black cats and 5000 rats. It is
estimated that the cats will increase to
15,000 in a year or two, and black cat
skins are worth §1. The rats, he says,
will multiply tive times as fast as the
! cats. The rats will be used to feed the
cats, and the skinned cats to feed the
i rats, and if that isn’t mighty near per-
j petual motion, I don’t know what is.”
UTILIZING OLD CORKS.
Some Interesting Things Can Be
Made Dy Boys and Girls.
If there’s a box of old corks in the
pantry the boy or girl, with a jack¬
knife, can make a whole set of furni¬
ture and many other interesting things
out of them.
Ail the tools and materials necessary
are a very sharp knife, a box of
matches, a bottle of thick mucilage,
water-color paints, a few old calling
cards, a hairpin or two, a pair of stout
scissors, with sharp points, and the
pin-cushion, Whith these and the
corks you can find a great deal of in¬
teresting amusement.
Perhaps the best thing to begin
with is the cork out of the mustard
pot, which is large and flat. Snip the
sulphur, heads off of four 'matches,
leaving them square at the ends.
Sharpen the other ends a little, make
four holes with the penknife in the
under side of the cork and stick the
pointed ends of the matches into these.
Cut out a circle of a visiting card
comewhat larger than the mustard
cork, paste it on top of the cork and
there stands a beautiful piece of nurse¬
ry carpentry, table all complete. A
small, square bit of eork, with four
short bits of matches used as legs,
makes a good stool; and by taking
the cork that once served to stop the
mouth of a little glass jam jar and
sticking in four matches for feet and
two more on the upper side for a
back, with a bit of cork at the top of
these, one has at once a delightful
chair to go with the table and stool.
The next pieee of manufacture might
be a teetotum, and here the paints
begin to come into piny. •
Cut a match in half ; sharpen one
end a little. Cut a thin slice cross-
ways from a cork and stick the match
through the middle of it, pointed end
first. Cut out a circle of cardboard
four times as large as the cork, and
draw two lines at right angles across
the disk. That will leave it divided
into four quarters, and these quarters
are to be painted blue, green, yellow
and red. Bore a hole in the center of
the disk and slip the blunt end of the
match through it until the cardboard
rests upon the cork. Next cut another,
but rather thicker, 'slice from the
cork, bore a hole in the center, and
i
u
L Q 3
I I®
m
WHAT THE CORE-WHITTLES MAKE.
stick the blunt end of the match
through, pressing it down till it
touches the card, This will leave
about an inch of match to be taken be¬
tween finger and thumb for spinning
this beautiful teetotum.
Cutting long slices through the mid¬
dle of the cork leaves pieces which,
with the aid of the paints, can be
turned into a beautiful set of domi¬
noes, and by cutting out square pieces
one can make a beautiful set of noise¬
less dice to be used with the backgam¬
mon board.
But perhaps the nicest toy of all
made in this shop, which has for its
sign “Old corks taken in exchange
for new playthings,” is the set of par¬
lor croquet. To begin this heavy but
fruitful labor cut out eighteen small
squares of cork. Bend into a curved
hoop—a miniature of those used in
lawn croquet—nine hairpins, and
these, with each end stuck into one of
the small squares of cork, will stand
upright and serve as table wickets for
the game. Cut slices crossways from
the vinegar bottle cork, and into the
middle of each of these stick a match,
whose end has been sharpened for the
purpose. This can be painted around
with rings of contrasting colors, as is
done to the goal stakes of lawn cro¬
quet.
Next, for the mallets hunt about in
the cork box for four small ones of
even size—those from the small medi¬
cine vials serve mcelv if they have not
been stained by drugs. These, if a
nice • shape, , need ■, cutting ., • at ^ all.
£ no
Matches iU serve as handles for these
mallets, and a band of color must be
painted around each, so that players
may distinguish their own mallets.
^ ome n ’ C9 » * ar g e » old sugar coated
pills would make beautiful balls for
this nursery croquet, with a stripe ot
paint around each one.
Maine Forests and Game.
The forests of Maine are said to
grow about as fast as the lumbermen
can cut them down, and that the State
is still supplied with an abundance of
wild game is shown by the statement
of a a Eastern paper that 50,009 out¬
siders have gone to Maine to hunt
since September 15th last, and of these
800 have succeeded in getting caribou,
1000 have killed moose and about 18,-
000 have gone home with one or more
deer each, lu addition to the above
about 100 bears, 150 bobcats and loop-
eerviers and an unaccountable number
of ruffed grouse and hares have been
slain. It is little wonder that the
game wardens of Maine are asking lor
more stringent laws.
BILL ARP’S WEEKLY LETTER.
BARTOW'S SAGE RECOUNTS SOME
PRESIDENTIAL HISTORY.
STORY OF JACKSON'S MARRIAGE.
Self-Made Chief Executives—College Ed¬
ucation aud Athletic Games nt School
Touched Upon.
Two weeks ago The Evening Constitution,
in its weekly symposium, asked which one
of the presidents was married twice to the
same woman. The answer was given the
succeeding week, and since then I have re¬
ceived a number of letters wanting to know
why.
Doubtless there are a great biography many more of
who have not access to any
Andrew Jackson, and would like to know
why he was twice married to his only wife.
And so for the diffusion of knowledge it
is a good time to tell these inquirers the
romance of that marriage, for with most
men and women marriage is tho most im¬
portant event of their life.
Rachel Donelson was a beautiful, spright¬
ly and interesting girl—the best horse¬
woman and the best dancer in ali the coun¬
try, She married Captain Eobards, who
proved to be a tyrannical and jealous hus¬
band. He took her to Kentucky to live
with his mother, but soon after, in a fit of
jealous rage, sent her back to Nashville.
Her mother, who was a widow, was keep¬
ing a boarding house, and among judge her pat¬
rons were General Jackson and Ov¬
erton, loth of them high-toned, honorable
gentlemen. Indeed, the general was noted
for his purity of character, his homage and
chivalrous respect for woman. When Cap¬
tain Eobards came there to make recon¬
ciliation with his wife, he took offense at
Jackson's politeness toiler. He and Jack-
son had hot words and further trouble was
feared. Jackson changed his boarding¬
house and Eobards went back to Kentucky
and threatened to return and haunt liis wife
and make her life miserable. To escape his
persecutions she removed to Natchez, where
she had friends and relatives. In the mean¬
time Eobards applied to the legislature of
Kentucky for leave to sue for a divorce, for
that was then the law. Leave to sue was
granted to him, and it was generally sup¬
posed that he had sued in Kentucky this and
had obtained a divorce. Acting on be¬
lief, Jackson went to Natchez and married
her.
For two years they lived together in Nash¬
ville a.s man and wiie when to their great
surprise it was discovered that Eobards did
not secure his divorce until a year after her
second marriage. So Jackson procured an¬
other license and was married to her a second
time. For forty years they enjoyed an hon¬
orable and happy wedlock. His devotion to
her was intense and his pistol was ever
ready to avenge her fair name from scandal.
Ho had many political enemies, but ho
taught them early that not even a whisper to
her prejudice would be allowed. Rachel
Donelson was a true and noble woman.
It is a singular fact that five of tho first
thirteen presidents married widows. Wash¬
ington set the example and was followed by
Jefferson. Madison and Filmore. The last
named was married twice and so was
John Tyler. Andrew Johnson’s wife taught
him to write after they were married.
His humble origin and vocation and his
rise to the highest office have long been
cited to illustrate the difference between a
republican and a monarchical government,
but he was not the only president whose
youth was marked by toil and ignorance.
Fillmore was apprenticed to a wool carder
when he was fourteen years of age and was
bound to the trade for seven years. When
he was nineteen he bought his unserved
time and bought a dictionary. He could
read and write a little, but had not had ac¬
cess to any books, for his father had none
save a Bible and a hymn book. He had never
seen a map of the United States nor a copy
of Robinson Cruso. It was like being born
again for a young man of nineteen to begin
to acquire the rudiments of an education.
But he did it and climbed slowly, but surely,
upward until he reached the top of the lad¬
der. He made a better man than Andrew
Johnson and was far more dignified and
happier in his office. Fillmore became pres¬
ident because he was worthy of it. Johnson
was rolled into the office by the tidal wave
of the civil war. But they were self-made
men.
Garfield was known as the teacher presi¬
dent, but John Adams and Arthur also taught
school. Eight of the earlier presidents had
no collegiate education, but this is no argu¬
ment against the great advantage that
such an education gives. College edu¬
cation is a great comfort, independent of its
being a help to progress and advancement
in science and art. The limited knowledge
I acquired in a three years’ course could
not be bought with money. It furnished
the tools of my trade.
There is a positive comfort in knowing the
origin of English words—the old ones and
the new ones that are being continually
coined to keep up with science and dis¬
covery. It is a comfort to know how to
measure the distances of the sun and moon
and stars and to calculate eclipses and why
the little honey bee builds the cells in the
honey comb in hexagon shape and the Jaws
of light and gravity. It is a comfort to an
old man to be looked up to by his children
and grandchildren as the pupils did to the
sclioolma-ter in Goldsmith's school—
“And still they gazed and still the wonder
grew
That one small head could carry all it
knew.”
The danger of college life is, however,very
great, and no boy should be sent there just
for the fun or the name or the polish of it.
The athletic sport of it seems nowadays to
be a prominent feature of college education.
My ideas about that may be prejudices, but
if so they are so strong and I am so antique
that I cannot change them. I have no more
boys to educate and they who have must
take their own responsibility, but I feel as
helpless as discouraged when I read the
programmes of the matched games that are
already arranged for the coming summer
among the colleges. I can do nothing but
take a back seat and l^t the procession pro¬
ceed.—B ill Abp, in Atlanta Constitution.
A Crease Stain Framed.
Sir John Brown, the great iron¬
master of Sheffield, whose death has
just occurred, owed his ffale, says a
London correspondent, to a visit paid
by the Prince of Wales to Sheffield at
the time when he held the position of
Master Cutter and Mayor of that great
manufacturing city, On that oee.i-
sfi-on the Prince stayed at Sir John's
house and, while watching a game
of billiards after dinner, happened to
lean his illustrious head against the
waGl, on which he left quite a largo¬
s': zed grease stain. On Sir John's at¬
tention being called to this after ihe
Prince's departure, he caused it to be
covered with glass and surrounded
by a beautilful gold frame, while a
desertptfcu IxUow related, in ultra-
loyal language, that it was there that
the head of England’s future k;ng
redecorated and re-papered since, but
no one has ever been allowed to touch
or to remove that golden frame or ihe
grease stain which it borders.
THROUGH GEORGIA.
A number of citizens of Gainesville
are making a move for a series of
cliautauquan entertainments in the
new auditorium during the summer.
Sam Jones has promised to be on hand
and some of the best lecturers and mu¬
sical talent of America will be engag¬
ed. The citizens are encouraging the
move materially.
* * *
A conference was held at MaeolWhe
past week between attorneys for Nor-
man W. Dodge and attorneys of nu-
merous defendants in the ease of
Dodge vs. L. L.Williams, et al., with a
view of compromising or settling the
suit brought by Dodge for possession
of large tracts of land claimed by
plaintiff and defendants.
An English syndicate has obtained
an option till May 1st on the McClus-
kv gold mine, on the Chattahoochee
near Gainesville. This is one of the
richest mines in Hall county. It
works half a dozen men and has
weighed up as much as 250 penny¬
weights a week. For some weeks it
has averaged something like 150 pen¬
nyweights.
The faculty of the University of
Georgia have ratified the resolutions
prepared by the representatives of the
different colleges of Georgia a few
days since in Atlanta. The resolu¬
tions look to the uniformity of stand¬
ards and requirements of the colleges
of Georgia, On account of a few
changes yet to be made in the resolu¬
tions, they will not be given out for
publication for several weeks.
The ninth annual encampment of
the Grand Army of the Republic, de¬
partment of Georgia, will be held at
Fitzgerald, Ga., March 13, 1897. Ar¬
rangements have been made with the
railroads for those desiring to attend,
so that tickets can be purchased from
any point in Georgia and South Caro¬
lina to Fitzgerald at a rate of 2 cents
per mile. These arraagemeuts insure
a large attendance of Grand Army
men, as well as of parties not connect¬
ed with the organization.
The request of L. C. Futrell and
W. J. Walker to be relieved from the
official bond of Judge Joel N. Mathews,
ordinary of Crawford county, which
created such a sensation and which
was given a hearing before Governor
Atkinson, lias once more come to the
attention of the governor, but now in
a different shape. On the first hear¬
ing the bondsmen did not appear and
the governor refused to release them.
Ihe two bondsmen are dissatisfied
with the findings of the governor,
however, and now desire to have the
case reopened so that they may be
given a chance to make a showing.
Sam Grant, the Sumter county mur-
derer, whose case has been brought
before the governor in so many dif¬
ferent shapes, will not die on the gal¬
lows. His sentence Jias been comnm-
tod to life imprisonment by Governor
Atkinson. Ihe commutation was good
news to the cizens of Americus who
worked so hard for it. A short time
ago Sam Grant was dressed to go on
the gallows. He had told his fellow
prisoners and friends farewell, and had
prepared to die. At the very last
minute, a message was received re¬
spiting him for one week. Following
this came the commutation by the
governor.
The itinerary of the Georgia Press
Association’s trip to Nassau has been
arranged by the president. The twen¬
ty-ninth annual convention of the as¬
sociation will .be called to order at the
Lanier house in Macon, March 29th,
and a very interesting session is antic¬
ipated. Extensive preparations will
be made by the people of that city to
royally entertain the delegates, and a
grand reception will be tendered them
on the evening of their arrival. The
party will leave Macon over the Geor¬
gia Southern and Florida on March
30th, and for ten days will enjoy one
of the most delightful outings ^er
taken by ~
the association.
Governor Atkinson held an import¬
ant hearing last Saturday afternoon on
requisition papers which were sent him
for Joseph Arpin, of Alabama. The
papers were in the hands of a sheriff
of one of the lower counties of Ala¬
bama, and he served them on Gov¬
ernor Atkinson. Arpin resisted the
requisition and employed attorneys to
fight for him. The hearing was argued
before the governor with the result
that he refused to allow the man to be
carried back to Alabama. Arpin is
wanted by parties in Alabama who
charge him with having embezzled
money and with having obtained funds
under false pretenses. Arpin denies
the charges and claim that they want
him to return on account of a personal
debt.
At die annual meeting of the Geor¬
gia State Agricultural society held last
summer, J. Pope Brown, of Pulaski
county, was elected president of that
body, but according to the custom of
the society, the president of that body
is not installed until the spring rneet-
ing. A call Las been issued by Mr.
Brown for a meeting of the society at
Augusta on March 15th, when Mr.
Brown Will be duly installed as presi¬
dent with appropriate ceremonies.
He will succeed Col. J. O. Waddell,
who has been president several years,
Mr. Brown says he will bend everv en-
ergy to revive interest in the society,
f ormerly it was one of the strongest
agricultural bodies in the south, and
under its auspices a state fair was held
every year, but of late the fairs have
been abandoned. Mr. Brown desires
to revive the fairs.