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The Toccoa Record.
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Vol. XXIX.
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•3 ROOF
*« * EPISODE
Y* T T
Have you never read of a person's
hair turning gray in a single night ?
i)t course you have. The old story
books are full of such tales. I can
remember dozens of them—stories
reeking with gore and dank with
dungeons and grewsome with ghosts
and other uncanny things.
We were on the roof of the cathe¬
dral at Milan. We had climbed the
stairs in the late afternoon of a
beautiful spring day after paying
the custodian the insignificant price
he asked for all the glories visible
from the elevated station. We had
looked through the telescope for an¬
other fee and had each assured the
others that we Saw Mont Blanc per¬
fectly well without for a moment
believing what the others said or
convincing them that we told the
truth and had ended our climbs by
ascending to the highest point un¬
der the lantern, if it is a lantern, by
the corkscrew staircase, which will
scarcely permit any but the thinnest
persons to pass when one is going
up and the other coming down.
We were a party of four,
when the roof was reached the
youngest proposed a ramble over
that portion of the structure. To
this all but myself assented. I was
tired and proposed to rest awhile at
the foot of the tower stairs, where
the others were to pick me up on
their return, so that we might all
(descend tog ether. This was satis-
factory, ana off they started.
For a time I was quite comforta¬
ble and paid no attention to the
passage o f time, but I suddenly no-
ticed that it was getting dark and
that my companions had not re¬
turned. I called to them first in a
moderate tone of voice, then more
loudly, but received no answer.
Fearing that they would be be¬
lated on the roof, I started in search
of them. I walked the entire length
of the ridge of the main roof and
peered down all the side passages in
the gathering dusk, but caught no
glimpse of my companions. Then I
descended to the roof of the aisle
and made a search there, which was
also fruitless. I became alarmed as
the light failed and ran from one
point to another, calling out as I
ran, until I found, to my great dis¬
tress, that I had lost my way. I
could see far below me the lights of
the great city and hear the distant
rumbling of the carriages as they
drove past on the stony streets.
But I was as effectually lost for
the moment as if I had been in the
heart of an African jungle without
a compass and no Stanley on the
alert to hunt me up. In the excite¬
ment and despair which the con¬
sciousness of this fact produced I
rushed about so wildly that I slipped
and fell on a long flight of stone
steps, wet with the dew which had
begun to fall. I was not conscious
of any serious injury from the fall,
but when I brought up at the foot
of the stairs and tried to regain my
footing I found, to my despair and
horror, that I was utterly unable to
move my limbs. I was paralysed.
The mental agony I suffered is
inconceivable. Yet,curiously enough,
^1 lating spent the first the moments in specu¬ of the
as to exact nature
injury I had sustained. Had 1 bro¬
ken my back or simply injured my
spinal cord? 1 tried to recall what
I had heard my doctor friends say
about injuries of a similar charac¬
ter, but could not seem to remember
anything definite. The words, “the
fifth pair," flashed into my mind
and appeared to connect themselves
in some way with my condition, but
whether it was the fifth pair of
nerves or ribs or of something else
I could not make out.
I could not understand either
how I could have been so seriously
injured without any sensible shock,
but that my power of locomotion
^waa gone there was no doubt. I
could move my hands, and I began
to speculate on the number of things
one could do with one's hands alone.
ThiB occ upied me for what seemed
jLn hour, but as th$ train of
Toccoa, Georgia, September 26 1902.
thought was interrupted by a dock
striking the hour of midnight I con¬
cluded it must have been much lon¬
ger and wondered I had not heard
the preceding hours.
Suddenly the full horror of my
condition flashed upon me. I was
not only doomed to remain where I
was, helpless and alone, during the
long, chilly hours of the night, but
there was no certainty that I would
ever get away alive. My friends
would never dream that I was there.
They had undoubtedly concluded
that I had gone down, and if they
missed me would search everywhere
but in the right place. It might
be days before the particular spot
in which I lay would be visited, and
in that case it would be too late.
Starvation would do for me even if
the injury I had received did not.
In my anguish I shrieked aloud, but
Was dully conscious all the time that
nobody could hear me. Visitors
and custodians alike must have de¬
parted hours before, and even if my
cries were heard from the streets
below nobody would attribute them
to their real source.
To the feeling of acute anguish
succeeded one of blank despair. I
no longer speculated on the possi¬
bility of being discovered, dead or
alive. There was a dull, leaden feel¬
ing at my chest, and I found myself
repeating mechanically old rhymes
and jingles and saying the alphabet
backward, as I once learned to do
in seeking relief from insomnia.
Yet at the same time I was con¬
scious that my whole life was pass¬
ing in review before me, as they say
it does when one is drowning or be¬
ing hanged. I remembered that
saying, too, and without any cessa¬
tion of the review I wondered in
my doubled consciousness if I were
undergoing the sensations of a
drowning man or of one being
hanged and wished I could put
them down on paper for the benefit
of the rest of mankind.
What struck me as singular was
that the clocks kept on striking
12. The second time they did this
I thought I must have lost con¬
sciousness for an entire day and that
this was the second midnight. But
when the third stroke of 12 came
from half a dozen clocks I knew it
could not be two days since I had
fallen.
I thought first that I had become
dementea, and then it occurred to
me that if I were I could not reason
about it in that fashion, so the
clocks themselves must be crazy.
This theory satisfied me until the
striking began again, when I went
off in another fantastic speculation.
My friends had discovered that I
was missing and were having the
bells rung to keep my spirits up.
Oh, the long, long, weary hours I
spent daylight! in waiting I for a glimpse of
had no hope that day-
light would bring me any relief, but
the prospect of staying where it was
endless midnight seemed unendura¬
ble. I groaned and wept and dug
my nails into the palms of my hands
until it seemed as if the blood would
come, but I did not even feel any
sense of pain.
It must have been after the clocks
had struck midnight a dozen times
or more—I kept no exact account—
that I saw in the distance at what
seemed to be the farther end of the
cathedral roof two faint glimmers
of light. Presently there were two
more and then two more, until there
was a regular procession of them. I
tried to shout, but had become so
weak with cold and suffering that I
could not raise my voice above a
whisper.
The lights nevertheless approach¬
ed, growing gradually stronger, un¬
til I could see that they were borne
by several black beside robed figures coffin. that
were marching a As
the procession moved slowly toward
me I began to wonder what it meant
and whether funerals took place at
midnight on the roof of Milan ca¬
thedral. Then I speculated a mo¬
ment on the propriety of disturbing
the obsequies even dawnea in my extreme
that need. Suddenly it funeral, upon and me I
this was my own
knew that I was either dead or had
gone mad. In the supreme anguish
of this disoovenr all memory oUpast
suffering was blotted out, and I en¬
tered on a new period of the most
ly jt
“Qood Will to All Men.’
was of brief duration. As file fore¬
most of the moving figures reached
me I felt a grasp on my arm, and a
voice called in my ear:
“Wake up, father. It’s time to
be going down. I guess you must
have had your yoke turned."
It was my daughter, and beside
her were the rest of the party,
flushed with their ramble on the
roof. I straightened out my cramp¬
ed limbs, which must have gone to
sleep about the time I did, and
pulled out my watch. I had been
there just fifteen minutes.
I don't mean to be understood
that my hair really did turn gray in
that night of horror on Milan ca¬
thedral. In the first place, there is
not much of it, and what there is
has been tolerably gray for some
years. But I do mean to say that I
am not incredulous as to the possi¬
bility of such a capillary change as
the story books tell about.
THE GIANT OF THE FORCE.
Tsrror Inspired by a New England
City’s First Policeman.
Some of the old inhabitants of a
small New England city were ex¬
changing reminiscences the other
day police about department. the establishment The force of its
was
small in numbers, but one of its
members was almost a giant in size,
6 feet inches tall and broadly
built. There chanced to be a hitch
about the delivery of the men's uni¬
forms, so that only one w r as received
proiriptly, force and the Goliath of tAie
stalked forth in his splendor
alone.
Naturally he created a sensation.
As he patrolled the long, winding
street that ran the whole length of
the place there were many com¬
ments upon his personal appearance,
most of which were discreetly ut¬
tered after he had passed out of
hearing.
At length, however, a shambling,
shabby, sly eyed, crack witted ne'er
do well stepped up and touched the
gorgeous figure on the arm.
“Say, mister," he whispered hum'
bly, “tell me the safest law to break,
and I'll break it for the honor of
walking down Main street with
them buttons."
The information requested was
not vouchsafed, and the giant
marched o& in his buttons and his
dignity. But a little playing farther along
a small boy who was in the
front yard was no less impressed,
although more bewildered, by the
glittering and mighty app arition.
He gave one look, eyes and mouth
at their roundest, and then indoors,
crying to his mother:
“Oh, mamma, look, look! Is he
war or the circus V 9
Even after he had become a fa¬
miliar figure to the citizens the huge
guardian of the peace retained some
of his impressiveness. To one pris¬
oner at least he so embodied the ter¬
rors of the law that the man sub¬
mitted to an arrest which a few
words of explanation at the time
could have averted. When in court
he did at length explain, the judge
inquired had in astonishment why he
not done so before. Smiling
confidentially at his honor, the ac¬
cused replied:
“Well, judge, it's like this: You're
folks; but as for that Bunker Hill
monument with a helmet on top, he
may be a first rate handcuffin' ma¬
chine, but he ain't a man. I didn't
darst argufy with him. No, sir. I'd
as soon thought of tryin' to make
my injun."—Youth's position clear Companion. to the town fire
Just Retribution.
“My little one," said a newspaper
man, “is two years old now, but has
cently clung to her bottb of milk. Re¬
we began to ^ > her regular
food. We have a young pup at the
house, so in explanation of the
change I led her out on the porch
and, showing her the pet, said:
‘Tootsie, that baby dog drinks your
milk now/ She did not say any-
thing, only stamped her foot at it.
“The next morning my wife and
I heard & terrific racket and squeal¬
ing. Thinking the baby had been
run over or hurt herself, we ran
out. In the corner of the porch
was the poor little dog, his nose in
the air, the tears streaming from
hjfl_o yes, an d howling with all his
Successor to Toccoa Times and Toccoa News.
puny’might. The baby stood over
it with a stick in her hand, and she
was certainly using it. ‘What for
whip poor milt/ doggie?' we demanded.
‘Teal my she lisped. ‘Not
doggie — piggie!'" — Philadelphia
Telegraph.
A Reminder of a Tragedy.
In his book, “All the Russias,"
Henry Herman gives an interesting
description of the bedroom of Czar
Alexander II., which is kept exactly
as it was on the morning he left it.
He was brought back an hour after
he left it bleeding to death from in¬
juries inflicted by the assassin's
bomb. As the room was, so it re¬
mains. The half smoked cigarette
lies upon the ash tray in a glass
tube. A little revolver lies before
the mirror. Upon each of the ta¬
bles and upon several chairs is a
loosely folded clean handkerchief,
for it was the czar’s wish to have
one of these always within reach of
his hand. There lie all his toilet
articles, a few plain bottles and
brushes. It is all modest beyond
belief, and the brushes are half
worn.—Leslie's Weekly.
The Wheels of a Railroad.
On the Burlington railroad sys¬
tem of 8,000 miles, over 385,000
wheels are in service under the va¬
rious passenger, freight and way
cars, locomotives and other rolling
stock. An average of 40,000 wheels
are purchased each year, and they
are very carefully inspected, as
they are bought with a guarantee.
According to the stipulation each
is warranted to last six years, or
cover 75,000 miles. All the wheels
are numbered and a careful rec¬
ord kept. When they fail to do the
work, they are returned to the man¬
ufacturer, who is compelled to make
the loss good.
One Way to Make Change.
A struggling, modest lawyer near
Stroudsburg, says the Philadelphia
Times, received a call from a well
to do farmer who was in need of
professional advice concerning his
rights, which he thought ignored
by a section gang on a railroad.
The lawyer looked up the statutes,
told the farmer exactly what he
should do and when asked as to the
fee replied, “Well, let's call it just
$3." The farmer passed over a five
dollar bill, which seemed to embar¬
rass the lawyer, who searched
through his pockets and the draw¬
ers of his desk. TheTi he pocketed
the $5, reached for a digest, sat
down and remarked, “I guess, neigh¬
bor, I'd best give you $2 worth
more advice."
A Considerate Host.
Lord Rosebery one time sat next
to a farmer at his estate dinner, and
the confiding man whispered to the
host when the ice pudding was
brought, “The pudding ha* been
frozen." The ex-premier, thanking
the farmer and looking surprised,
called to a waiter, said something
and then, turning to the farmer
again, said, “They tell me the pud¬
ding has been frozen on purpose 1"
Ostrich Plumes.
Black and white ostrich plumes
come from the male bird, the gray
from the female. The feathers are
not plucked out, as one might im¬
agine, but are clipped off with a
sharp knife, leaving the end of the
l uill in the flesh, whereat remains
or two or three months, until it
“dies," when it is pulled out with
forceps.
Volcanoes In North America.
In our North American posses¬
sions are volcanoes to spare. There
are fifteen active craters in Alaska
and a score more in repose which
may at any time break forth. The
Alaska volcanoes have been active
during all the time the country has
been known to civilized man. In
1796 an island was formed thirty
miles north of Unalaska by volcanic
action. Eight years later when re¬
visited the soil was still warm. This
island has gradually been increas¬
ing in size, probably by upheaval of
land. Just across Bering strait an¬
other volcano in Kamchatka, 15,000
feet in height, that erupted in 1829 with
a noise was heard for fifty
miles. One of the volcanoes in Cook
inlet is 14,000 feet high.—Era.
No. 37
RHEUMATISM.
The Despair and Reproach of the
Medical Profesaion.
It was by rheumatic twinges in
his joints that Adam was able to
forecast foul weather, and it wa a
rheumatism which tortured Noah
during the damp days of the deluge.
Old as this malady is known to d
it still remains the same stupendous
and baffling mystery and the same
despair and reproach of the medical
profession. Now, as before the
Christian era, its treatment is em¬
pirical and its prognosis blind guess¬
work. Of all the manifold afflic¬
tions which restrain the natural
gayety of mankind this elusive dis¬
ease is the least about which the
doctors have any right to dogma¬
tize. Their proper attitude toward
rheumatism is one of humility and
awe. However, with arrogance which
approaches shameless effrontery,
they have recently affirmed that it
is contagious; that a person of the
most blameless life may acquire its
seeds by consorting with a rheu¬
matic friend or neighbor under fa¬
voring circumstances. It may be
so; but, considering their appalling
ignorance of its causes and its na¬
ture and what tissues it involves,
they can show no warrant for any
such alarming announcement.
Surely it is enough that the rheu¬
matic sufferer is without the hope
of human aid, is the victim of the
physician's impotence and is al¬
ready shunned by the sensitive as a
center of moral pestilence without
his being proscribed as a source of
physical infection. Pugnacity, ir¬
ritability and sometimes even pro¬
fanity are characteristic of acute
rheumatism. The moral descent of
a good man in the throes of this ail¬
ment is as pathetic as it is deplora¬
ble, so piteous, indeed, that con¬
siderate friends who are expert at
dodging often leave harmless that mis¬
siles within his reach he may
vary the monotony of pain with the
pleasure of personal assault. To
proclaim that rheumatism is con¬
tagious is to drive from the pres¬
ence friends of the victim all sympathetic
and condemn him to the ex¬
clusive care of the hardened profes¬
sional nurse.—New York Times.
Reclps For Happiness.
One of the youngest looking wo¬
men we have ever known was one
whose principle in life was never to
expect too much of people, and in
this lies the great secret of happi¬
ness. A large amount of worry and
trouble comes from our too great
expectations of people. We expect
too much of onr children, for ex¬
ample. They must be gifted, beau¬
tiful, obedient little compendium*
of all the virtues, and if they are not
all this we think bitter things &ndj
sow wrinkles and gray hair and ill
health for ourselves, says Woman's
Life. What right have we to ex¬
pect so much, of our own children?
Blessed is the parent who looks tol¬
erantly and philosophically on the
faults of his children and who real¬
izes that he has no right to expect
too much of children as long as the
law of heredity holds good. Unless
we ourselves are gifted, beautiful
and obedient to the will of some¬
body else we have no right to expect
such perfections of our children.
England’s Fig Gardens.
The industry of fig culture ill
Britain may be said to be centered
in Worthing, though how this neigh¬
borhood should come to possess the
hard most extensive fig orchards it irf
to say. Those who never have
had an opportunity of visiting the
Worthing fig orchards would be as¬
tonished to learn of the size, age
and vigor this tree attains there. 1
Even in cottage gardens in the im¬
mediate neighborhood the fig tree
thrives remarkably well. It is in
and around the village of Sompting
that the chief market supply of fige
is obtained. The trees are here
planted in groves, irregular now be¬
cause some have died and been re¬
placed by younger trees, and many
of them are twenty feet high and as
lowed many through. higher They are not al¬
to grow than this; oth¬
erwise the labor of gathering thei
fruit would be increased.— London
Standard. ~ --------- 4jj