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About The weekly banner. (Athens, Ga.) 1891-1921 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 27, 1892)
114a 8av»w< ATHENS. QA., TUESDAY MORNfNG. DECEMBER 27.18j?2 $ 1.00 A LOVE THAT LOITERS. They will brine their hoarded kindneaa When oar ears are ffoaf to love; Whun llic pmstos wave above And bewail their present blindness. ] ‘When we cannot heed repret They will waste tlreir shallow tears. An if such could pay arrears Or discharge the living debt. They roust know we shall not crave Sunshine in yon grim retreat; Gifts ofUfc, however sweet, Yet they keep thorn for the grave. Though the gravo has but despair, Aud but hollow echoes wait All who knock at that weird gate, Still they pour their treasure there. Let the suowy shaft aspire; We ( hall rover read the lie; Grief uprcar:fihe marble high. But remorse can rear it higher. They will come when wo are dead. When to love our lips are dumb; Then otff laggurd friends will come And straw (lowers overhead. —Mrs. il. Morange In New York Advertiser. AM ADO. I I had not seen Sawyer—“Cal,” as we called him—since we parted at Harvard upon commencement day, when, full of fervor and the class punch of ’81, we swore to keep one another in sight. Cal went home and into leather, and 1 to a desk in Wall street. Now, five years later, I had almost, run over my old college mate in my nightly mad rush for tlm L. I seized him by the arm and bore him rflotig, postponing apologies nntil f had him packed into my little up town flafc-*nd introduced to my wife, who was the dearest woman on earth to me still, and who I knew could comfort and console the tall Californian as 1 could not, for 1 had already discovered that Sawyer had come east in pursuit of the ejnige Weibliche. When dinner was over my wife slipped away to see if the baby was really sleep ing as only such “bald headed tyrants” can, leaving ns unnecessary and irre sponsible men smoking and reminiscenc ing in my den of 5 by 9. Suddenly a blow on the door startled Sawyer almost out of his chair. ■•His majesty wishes to ccrne in,” 1 said, rising and opening the door. ••What a magnificent brute!” exclaiin- iugs like myself, after a brief visit to my mother. " , “During these occasions I saw Mar garet only once or twice, and always carried away the disturbing impression that she was in no way impressed either by my superior manners or talents. This was slightly annoying, as she was far and away prettier than any girl of my acquaintance, east or west. To be sure, I had made her blush—such an exquisite red—but it was with vexation. Upon my first departure we had written one another quite regularly, but abont the middle of my first year 1 received a let ter from her, in which she professed humbly to believe that her western ways were but s. burden to such an exalted being as l had become—and wrote no more. Her letters were so fresh and in dividual that I missed them, but I was fatnons enough to accept her silence as a simple hearted tribute to my worth. 1 say, Sawyer, when a man is a fool how many different ways be finds to show it!” “Or when he is in loveH added Saw yer ruefully. “That stage was to come seen enough. Along the last months of the year I had caught ‘winged words’ here and there regarding some not impos sible she, spending a year in Boston, who had become a creator of contention between various givers of college ‘spreads.’ You were in ’80 and of course not interested. Would this she accept one or all of the invitations show ered npon her? Would she like Van Rensselaer's rooms best, filled aa they were with old colonial furniture and silver, or would she prefer to linger at Tarrey’s, in a purely Bohemian atmos phere, with boxing gloves and barrings? “The affair promised to be interesting, and 1 was bent upon being a witness posribly myself not wholly unnoticed. It was therefore with a very bad grace that 1 read in a letter from my mother tbftt Margaret Burton was in Boston, anti asking ifte to see that she was suit ably initiated into the preciousness of things Harvardian. yet I was piqued enough when in answer to my formal note—1 had dispensed with the needful call—1 received a closely worded little note saying that 6he had already accepted for ‘spreads’ at Weeds and Halworthy. I had of course supposed that she knew nobody, and had been l>y no means averse to apt the mod*** mentor to a fair Telemacha. ‘Of you’ve guessed the end. Even an IS HOW I LOVE HER. Go. lasshing, leaping, romping rill— Go where my love is straying. And in the pools, when yoa are still. Then list to what slic'd saying. And with the sunny, summer skies Of araro arched above her. Show her her ov a angelic eyea And tell her how I love her. Go, gentle winds, soft, sighing winds— Go where my love is sleeping. And be about her window blinds And through the curtains creeping. Weave in the wimples of her hair The tici feme of the elov^PT Caress her face, ao sweet and fair. Ami tell her bow ) love her. —Cy Warmou in New York Sun. A WAIF. ed Sawyer. __ “Not. ’bwnte,’ if von please. Cal, hot t detective would have a clew by this, my friend. A;nad«, kindly shake banns “But 1 was as unsuspicious as only a with my old friend^ here and then com- | f ore g 0 ne conclusion can make one, and pose yourself. You know your are j w j ien j satl ntered into White’s room* a* rather pervasive In a room of this size ” J Kalwortby and saw Margaret Afv' mastiff gravely did as he was b:d rnnmiMi Wv •iha snnerlatives.’ a I My mastiff gr; and then eeUled himself at my side with a thud that made the things shake on the table. ’ “That’s about the only uncivilized thing about him,” 1 said, laughing. “He still remembers that his wild ancestors had to make their bed in the wilderness and crushed the tangle of vine and root under them.” Sawyer, who was quite as much of up animal lover as myself, knelt down be side the dog, fairly running over his points of beauty aud of breeding—bis coat of delicate fawn, silvery on flank njjd shoulder; his breadth of chest and strength of loin, the velvet blackness of his muzzle, the whiteness of his teeth, the clear brown of his eyes, the pure, rich scarlet of his tongue, the black markings of the mouth and the sinewy power of his straight, wide paws. “Where did you find such a magnifi cent dog, you enviable fellow?” asked Sawyer as he seated himself and re lighted his cigar. “Dear old clmm! He is getting pas sive and rheumatic. I’ve owned him now three years, and I’ve never yet regretted the small fortune 1 had to pay to get him from the former owner—a person wholly unworthy to possess even a png. But it is for better reasons than points or pedigree that he is beloved next to the boy, aud even the boy can’t put his - nose out of joint. He was the dens ex machina that gave me my wife.” “Ah! That sonnds interesting,” said Sawyer. “Tell me the whole story. I’ve confided to you my plight, and you won’t find a better listener.” 1 had never before felt the least in clination to babble of my own affairs, past or present, but if I could soothe and distract the mind of this old classmate that was plainly my duty. “Very well, then, here goes for it. You will find it as mild as a homceopathic pellet, but it waa interesting enough to me.” I said this with well affected indifference, but was really eager to begin. Margaret — my wife—-and I had grown up together in a little town in southern Ohio. Yon know the kind per haps—everything pastoral and religious, all church and no chaperons—where the boys and girls were allowed the ut most liberty, a liberty, it must be ad mitted, they did not abuse, btit used and enjoyed with a sort of sturdy sanity and self respeck impossible in this gophisti- tefl. crowded city of conventionalities. e- 7 she''an<l't—lived Aide by side and Id long and confidential conversations er the stiff, green wire fence that sep- atod our grape arbor from her bed of 'a roses. I saved the last sweet, frosty inch for her, and at the first chill hint winter helped her cover her roses ith straw, making their tall stalks in- qneer, angular scarecrows for Jack rost’a terrifying. , “My mother was a New Englander, i nd the thirst for knowledge of books Ud men mat sinoldpred in her breast lamed into power for her only son, and o 1 was sent to Harvard. While still a reshmau I came to regard my native own as the vanishing point in the per- H pective of an inglorious past. With vhatalofty smilol shonld have received I *: she hint'that the dark eyed little girl I whom 1 had left to tie her roses alone ! . might one day amply avenge all my > Mights! ... “1 concealed my boyish delight in Jife under the most pronounced end classic •indifferentism,’ and I vondev even now bow ever mv mother could pat up with " 1 friends laughed »t my airs j dislik-. j found j my vaca- 1 of be* rounded by ‘the superlatives,’ as we call them, smiling, gracious, witty and wholly at ease, 1 was dnmfonnded, overcome, ecrase. Whether it was that my nativity spoke for me, or as 1 think now, from pure womanly kindness, Mar garet neither scorned me, as I deserved, nor froze me, an she well knew how. Bbe gave me her band in its long yello-T glove, made a place beside her, and then seemed to quite forget me. I've made a lengthy preamble, but the denouement is at band. Suffice it that the next year 1 wa& her slavish shadow. I climbed awkwardly down out of the rarefied air of my superiority, content to be in the same world with her. She perhape Bnspected the truth of one of my own epigrams—that it is only an unrequited love that makee a man good and keeps him humble. She was sweet aud frank and charming, bat she had no blnshes to hide from me. There were’no quarrels to make up, and while 1 got as many smiles as the rest— and the rest were many and ardent—1 was never given a confidence nor made trembling witness of a tear. Wherever Margaret went I followed, usually on a later train, as 1 was qlwaya forbidden if 1 stated my intentions. Now conies the crisis, modestly dra matic! Margaret had gone to Narra- gansett for a week. After two days I found the town insupportably hot, and getting off late arrived at the hotel about 11 o’clock. There was dancing in the ballroom, and as 1 registered at the desk through the wide doors I could see the lights and the moving figures. As 1 hesitated there, making up my mind, as there was no chance of a dance with her, to grumble crossly off to bed and a lovfer’s dreams, a child, almost a baby, dashed suddenly out of the side corridor’ and ran, screaming shrilly through the doors and down the ate; made by the dancers, who were begin ning the lancers. “Behind the child came an enormous mastiff, his eyes blazing, a length of red tongue showing between his dripping jaws. 1 do not know to this day how 1 got there, bnt an ihstant later 1 stood in the middle of-the ballroom holding the child'high in the air. Then the child began to ponnd my head and face, kicking violently. The dog stopd.by my side wagging his tail. A roar from the men,and a heartless giggle from the women began to enlighten ms When the child’s mother took him from me and began resentfully to smooth down his tumbled laces l quite understood. ‘The dog was the pet and viottm ef this enfant terrible, and 1 the beresf a —comedy. Cruelly mortified and deep ly disgusted, 1-turned to go. Somehow stepped out of the group nearest me. It was Margaret.. She held out her hand to me, and in her eyes I read something sweeter than .pity. I bought the dog. who was pf ■ course Amado.” At the sound of his name the mastiff opened one eye sleepily and beat with his great tail on the floor,—Dorothea Lummis in Chicago Inter Ocean. He Evades HU Own Instructions. F. Marion Crawford says that he Thinks there is a richer field for the nov elist in the United States than in Europe. And yet Mr. Crawford confines his' at tention largely to Italy and pegleeta the “original characters” of America, whom he so much admires.—Rochester Herald. A Brave Mon. The man who has never needed to have any teeth pulled out is the loudest in ad vising the sufferer to “brace up like a man and have the thing out at once.”— Exchange, . - ”*• •. The great yard of the King George inn ’ at Cornchester was almost emptied of men, horses and vehicles when Jeremiah Mott, the Willowmere carrier, entered it. It was then 8 e*clock of a winter evening, and nearly everybody had gone home from market. The stables of tin King George were almost empty. In its accustomed corner stood old Fanner Scrooby’s gray mare, bnt that was not unusual, seeing that Sorooby never went home nntil he had finished his “market day lowance.” He was sitting in the bar parlor just then, leisurely soaking his capacious body with gin and water, and the ’ostler know that the gray mare would have to stand .in its stell for a good hour yet. But it. was something very unusual to see Jerry Mett’s stout pony In the sta bles at that time, and the ’ostler was curious to know the reason of the car rier’s delay. As a nsual thing, Jcremiah was off and away before 6. “Yew.be late tonight, Master Mott,” said the ’ostler as Jerry approached the stable door. “You’m away home afore this in general.” . “Ah!” Jeremiah heaved a long sigh. ••Ai.f ton be right, William; yes, yon bo right. Outward at 12 and inward at, 6—them is my rule, as a bovysual thing —yes, oh, dear, yes.” __ “Well, yew he two hours late in going bin wards tonight, then, Master. Mott, for ’tis 8 now by parish church clock.” “Ah, dear, yes!” said Jerry, helping the ’ostler to yoke thb stoat pony into the •hafts of carrier's eart. “Bnt 1 was two hours late in »t*rtin from Willow- mere, ye s*e, Willum. Oh, ah—yes of course. Trouble, Willum, trouble it was that did it ‘AH flesh is grass,’ ain’t it, now, Willum?” “Ah, yew be right, Master Mott. Yes, •man as is born of woman’—very power ful, effeetin words them be. Somebody dead, Master Mott?’ “Yes,” said Jerry, heaving another prodigious sigh. “Oh, yes, Willum. My little grandowter. “Nay. What, Bob’s little g’el? 1 be sorry to hear - on’t. Master Mott.’ And the only one they had too! Dear, dear!” Ah!” sighed Jerry. “Ten month old this very day, and as fine a child as ever yew did see. The way it took nourish ment! Oh, bnt.’tis a world o’ trouble is this, nbw—ain’t it, Willum?’ “Yew be right- there,” said William. •There do be a deal o’ deaths. Old Simon Brown died last week—matter o’ ninety-fower he were. Ah, very sad is this world—so it is.” Aye,” said Jerry, climbing into his cart and aging his lantern over its ponteutt.: ' .hat they were all safe; “aye, Willum, we be all born to trouble, accordin to the Scripcher. Taka it very bad. do some on ns, too, when we ho called to kiss the rod too.” “Hnman • natur, Master Mott, human natnr. Yes, I l’eckon Bob and his pore wife’ll take it very hard. Dear, dear, a deal they did think o’ that child, sure-lyl The way it were dressed—like a quality infant. Ah, a sore trouble indeed.” “Aye, Willum, and, ye seo, all the more so ’cause Bob and his wife has no more. Oh, a very desolate house in deed, 1 assewer yon, Willum, when 1 come away. ‘Bob, my lad,’ I says, ‘yew bear up. Listen to parson, Bob,’ I says. ‘Let him speak comfortable words,’ says I.” “To be sure,” agreed the hostler. "Tis very seasonable Is a bit o’ religion when a man’s in trouble.” “AyeP said ,Jerry, gathering np the reins. “Ayel Buried it today they did, Willum. Alongside my old woman it is —God rest ’em both! Well, good night, Wiliam—a very sad world is this here.” Jerry went rumbling out of the yard and through the archway into the glar ing lights of the market place. Usually he had stopped his pony at the sweet- stuff shop and purchased a “marketing” for Bob’s baby; tonight he drove sadly past, for the baby was dead and beyond the reach of lollipops. He could see the little green grave in Willowmere churchyard in hiB mind’s eye as he drove slowly out of Cornchester and turned into the dark country lane that led homeward. Such a tiny mound it was—how strange that it covered so much of human love and sorrow l It is it* miles from Cornchester to Willowneoro, and between the market town and the sleepy village lie two other s—one a rathe? large colliery vtt- called Pitmotrth, the other a tiny hamlet called ^little Ashby. It was old Jerry’s duty to call at both these places. There, were parcels to deliver and com missions to give an account of. Pres ently therefore he pulled up at the Blue Pig in Pitmouth, 'and after collecting half a dozen miscellaneous-parcels from his cart' disappeared into the inn. His pony remained quietly outside. It was accustomed to stay in the same spot ev ery Saturday evening for at least half an hour. Everything was very quiet inside the inn. The village lay a hundred yards farther along the road, and the Bine Pig waa therefore comparatively lonely. Thus it happened the* no one was about when a woman, carrying a square bas ket hamper, came cautiously from the direction of the Jeremiah Mott’s to see that no one laid the basket very Btraw in tho body of moment she lin^e: shawl closely about her face and harried it way. , At the end of half an hour Jerry emerged from the inn, climbed to his seat, bade the pony proceed and rolled away again. He left the colliery village be hind him and was soon in the open country. . Left to himself once more the little green grave in Willowmere churchyard began to haunt him again. He sighed, as he pictured the lonely cottage’ at home. Bob and his 'wife would be there waiting his return, and no doubt still sorely troubled by-their bereavement. ' “Eh,” sighed Jerry to himself, “what a deal o’ difference a little nn dew make, snre-lyl I’d gi’ a hundred goold guineas to have it back.” The road grew rather rough. They had been laying down a course of dross upon it, and vitae pony staggered a bit as he picked his way in the darkness over the sharp points. The cart had nd springs, and it began to jolt and shake somewhat. Presently it got over the stones and onto, smooth surfaces again. Then Jerry was suddenly aware of a ihild’s faint cry somewhere close at tand. He started and pricked his eart like a watchdogs “Seems to rad like a child a-cryin,* said he. “Yes; .’tis a child, sure-ly Whoa, Robin, lad! Let’B see what thi may be. Whoa; then!’’ The .pony stopped, and Jeremiah go I down, and having lighted his lanter i went over toward the hedgeside. Th ‘ S had stopped then. He looked aboi i l curiously, bnt saw nothing. “Mm! j>e pn t’other side,” said he, and wer t stumping across the lane. Then tbjc faint cry came again, and the carri straightened himself up in amazemei “Blessed if ’tain’t in mycartl” he. “Well—well—this do be very tickler strange. A child cryin in cart.” He held the lantern over the cart tail and looked at the miscellaneous collec tion of baskets, bags and parcels Ar ranged there. And then his face grew PEE-WEE.” When the morning long was filled With book That burst from every tree, I heard a foolish little bird . That only sang “Pea-weeI” And I spoko ont clear, so the bird could '* hear, “It really seems to me If I couldn’t sing a different song Than just ‘Pee-weel Pee-weei* ’ “I’d hide away from the songsters gar In the thickest greenwood tree. And I wouldn’t sing the foolish thing To show my low degree.” But the little bird, when he had heard My wise speech, looked at me With his bright eyes wide and his head -a one side. And said again, “Pee-weeP* And I understood the lesson good The little bird bad for me. God gives one song, and we should sing. If it only be "Pee-weel” —Albert Annett in Youth’s Companion. A CAPTAIN’S DREAM. “Bnt, sir,” said the orderly in respect ful remonstrance, “yon are annihilat ed." “Annihilated!” echoed the captain in indignation. “Yes, sir; the umpire sent word as yon and all your company was swep’ away by the last discharge of the mi- lishy." “By the militia, too!” exclaimed the captain. “Well, I’m d—d. Here, give Ige my flask and sandwiches and take the horse.” The captain sat watching the fight as it rolled over to -the opposite hill and consuming his sandwiches. He was of coarse annoyed at being annihilated; bnt after all he was saved some march ing in the sun, and the day was hot. He wondered where he shonld be likely to find his wife, who had expressed her intention of trying to see something of the maneuvers. By the time, however, that he had finished his lunch and lit his cigar he decided that he did not mnch want to find his wife, and he lay back and smoked in lnxnrions ease. “Talk abont meeting death with resig nation 1” mused he; “why, it’s splendid. I’m sorry it was the militia, though. 1 suppose our charge was rather rash—a Balaklavasort of’—— He nodded off, and his oigar fell from his lips. Hardly had this happened when be was roused by a sweet voice Opening bis eyes, he saw before him p- lovely girL • “1 beg your pardon, sir,” she said, “bnt conld yon tell me Where to find mamma?” The captain looked at the lady. “1 am dead,” he said; “dead men can’t find mammes.” “Yon don’t look very dead,” she an swered. smiling. “An Englishman never knows when lie is dead,” said the captain in hazy reminiscence; “bnt 1 have it on the au thority of the umpire, if that will do.’ “1 left mamma just about here,” re marked the lady. “Then she’s undoubtedly annihilated also. Nothing bigger than a mouse conld have lived through that fire.” ■ "Mamma is mnch larger than jmouse,” said the lady, smiling. [j “Won’t you sit down?’ asked the cap tain. The lady, smiling again, sat down. .She wore a simple dress of white, and troubled, for he saw a hamper and d not recognize it. !‘Pear, dear]’’ said Jeremiah. “He: be strange work, 1 misdoubt. 1 didn’t never put that i’ my cart.” The hamper lid was loose, and Jen turned it back and gazed with astoi ished eyea on the sight which present* itself. For there, warmly wrapped various ancient garments, lay a bat girl, fair haired' and blue eyed, wl stared at Jerry’s wrinkled and weathe beaten face, and smiled contentedly. “Dear-a-mel” said the carrier. "Dea a-tnel" He Btood staring at the baby nntil began to whimper again. There was feeding bottle in the basket with it, ar Jerry hastened to thrust the tube ini the little rosy mouth, at the came tin giving voice to certain soothing chnekl which he had used when hashing his lj tie dead granddaughter to sleep. Then * covered the baby np again fend went for ward to Little Ashby and pnlled np -the door of the “Brown Cow.” He s' inside little more than two minutes, 4!d when he came forth again the sto comfortable looking landlady folio' him to the cart. “Look ’ee there, missis,” said J holding his lantern over the sleep! baby’s face. “Look *ee therel” The landlady nodded and sighed. “Ah, poor dearl” said she. “ ’Tis j a dispensation o’ Providence, Maste Mott—it is indeed. Take it home fc , Bob’s poor —ife—maybe it’ll comfort herlthe bine ribbon round her waist was ri- the captain’s horror Beauty Jocelyx j kissed his wife. “Another?” asked Beauty Jocelyn. “I shonld like it.” said the captain’s wife. This is a hideous nightmare.” thought the captain. 'Just one more!” pleaded Beauty Joce lyn. ‘Well, if you”— began the captain’s wife. Bnt the captain leaped to his feet “The devil!” he cried. “Oh, yon are awake now, dear, are yon?” said his wife. "How imprudent to sleep iff the son! i met Mr. Jocelyn, and he kindly helped me to find yon.” “I was delighted,” murmured Beauty Jocelyrf. “Delighted, yon scoundrel!” exclaimed th# captain. “Yon dare to kiss ray wife before my very eyes! And she—she per mits it!” and the captain groaned. ‘My dear captain, 1 kiss your wife!” expostulated Beanty Jocelyn with raised eyebrows. ‘Charles! How dare you!” said the captain's wife. “You deny it? You have the audacity to deny-it? Just now, this very moment, you kissed her twice.” ‘You must have been dreaming. Charles." ‘At first I thought 1 was.” said the captain bitterly; “bnt I am awake now." “Ah, bnt yon were dreaming!” in sisted his wife, and her eyes wandered from his face and looked down the hill side. Near the foot of the hill, side by side with a stout woman in black, the cap tain saw a white mnslin dress and a bine sash. The eyes of the captain’s wife rested an instant on the white and bine; then they traveled back and dwelt npon the captain’s face. “Yon were certainly dreaming,” said the captain's wife, and Beanty Jocelyn smiled. A pause followed. The captain thought he heard a light langh wafted by the breeze from the foot of the hill. He looked again at his wife. His wife smiled. “1 must have been dreaming,” said the captain. Beanty Jocelyn laughed. “Bnt are you awake now?’ asked his wife. “Well, yon woke me,” said the cap tain. “1 thought we should,” said his wife, “Shall we go home now, Charles?' “Perhaps we had better." “Yon don’t want to sleep any more?’ “No; 1 think, on the whole, 1 have slept enough." “On the whole, perhaps you have.” His wife took the captain’s arm and bowed to Beanty Jocelyn. * "An revoir!” said Beauty Jocelyn, and jivhen the captain saw him last he was tacking warily down the hill in the wake of the white and bine. “1 think Mr. Jocelyn likes dreams too,” said the captain’s wife.—True Flag. for the loss of the other.” So Jeremiah set forward over the last mile of road to Willowmere. The baby slept quietly all the way, for the road was smooth, and the motion of the cart was soothing. Poor Bob, his eyes red with weeping for the dead baby, was at the gate to welcome his father. Jeremiah got down from his perch very softly’ and ap proached him. -“Now, my lad,” said Jerry, “how do 'ee feel now like, and how’s poor Mary?’ “Bad—very bad, feytfier, is Mary," said Bob. “Her sits by the hearthstone and don’t say a word to nobody. Mis tress White—she says ’at if on’y Mary ’nd cry a bit ’t would do her good, bnt her don’t cry—not a tear.' Bob,” said the old man, “look thee here!" He held the lantern over the sleeping' baby. Boh, opening his eyes and month, stared and gazed in amazement. The old man set down the light, and lifting the child from its nest turned with it toward the house. Mary sat by the hearth as he entered, her eyes dry and burning, her face full of despair. “Mary,” said old Jeremiah very softly. “Mary—look thee here, my dear.” He laid the sleeping baby on her knee. It suddenly woke and shed the fall light of its blue eyes npon her. For a second she gazed at it wonderingly; then she clasped it in her arms, and the hot tears began to rain down npon its ronnd little face. Old Jeremiah watched the little group wonderingly; then he turned, sighed and went back to his cart.— Newcastle Chronicle. Inventions of Women, Women Inventors by do means con fine themselves to- those departments where they might be supposed to possess special experience. Patents have been granted to women for a plan for dead ening the noise on railways, for pre venting sparks from locomotives, for sweeping the streets, for a new form of life vaft, for textile manufactures, elec trical' appliances, and in London a woman has patented a machine for making watch screws that is provided with a thread so dedicate as to be almost invisible, and so perfect as to cut threads on a human hair.—New York Sun. ed by the bine of her eyes. “1 mustn’t stay long,” she said. "At a moment like this,” remarked j|ie captain, “a man’s memory wanders ree through the delightful labyrinths of jouth and love” \ “Love! Are you married?’ 1 was married,” answered the cap- And yon were thinking of your wife?" while his fancy,” pursued the cap- n, “pictures joys yet in the future— haps tha near future.” 'he lady was picking a daisy to pieces, i) raised her eyes for a moment and jked at the captain. But if yen are dead”— she suggested. Now yon,” the oxptain continued,:, tg himself on his elbow, “are too even to have thought of a kiss!" have certainly never thought mnch kiss,” said the lady. £he thought does not fill yon with oua trepidation?” h, no.’’ [thought not,” said the captain in a ed tone. “It does me, you know.” hi” said the lady. ^ Ion can’t know what it’s like.” e often kissed mamma.” jt’s not quite the same thing; still, • me how you kiss mamma.” /.ell, supposing my hand was mam- |I should go like that.” sea. And what would mamma do?” h, 1 can’t show yon that. My hand kiss me, yon know.” \ift supposing 1 were yonr hand”-— Vs nonsense, isn’t it? I couldn’t ;e that.” ^i-11, then, supposing 1 were mam- 5 " Some Interesting Relics. What appears to be the most interest ing archaeological discovery since the settlement of western New York by the whites waa made recently near the city line. Workmen who were engaged in laying ont a new street turned np quantity of hnman bones and copper in struments, which bo excellent an author ity as W. U. Bryant believes to be relics of the Kah Kwahs, the little known tribe of peaceful Indians who occupied this region before the days when the Senecas came to keep the western door of the Long House. The early and complete extinction of this nation by the more warlike and bet ter organized lroqnois left little more than a legend of them to inspire the poetical fancy of the lamented David Gray, and to fnrnish a name for a cot tage on the lake shore. If further in vestigation shall tend to confirm Mr. Bryant’s apparently well founded con jectures^ the relics discovered will add distinctly to onr knowledge of the people whose fires burned here long before ours were kindled. This was an ancient burying ground for a race of giants, judging from the size of the bones found in the loamy soil of the hill. They show the men to have been very large.—Buffalo Courier. A Way Out of It. The other day a journal, hitherto with out a spot on its character, inquired with well feigned innocence, “How can five persons divide five eggs so that each man will receive one and still one remain in the dish?’ • After several hundred people went two-thirdg distracted in the mazes of this proposition, the journal meanly “One takes tlie dish with the egg.” you’re not a bit like mamma." ve it. Suppose yon were inaa- I were yon” [t would do capitally; bnt we |t trouble. I’ see mamma coming | ointed, and at the foot of the iptaia also saw mamma. i she good sight?’ asked the eap- she Is nearsighted. Fm afraid she’ll ot seo tis.” 1’ said the captain, and he kissed With a little cry and a little he sprang np and ran down the iptain closed his eyes, bnt in a ia well known voice made him again. His wife stood before l-.e was looking very handsome, - thonght. By her side stood young Icelyn—Beauty Jocelyn, as they called 1(q—the last joined cornet. The captai%iife and Beauty Jocelyn stood just in IpJit of the captain, some six feet see why not," said the cap- > beauty Jocelyn, and to AN ELEGANT BALL. To be Given for the Benefit of the Bloomfield Band. The Bloomfield Brass band desires to pay the balance doe upon the instru ments used by its members. They have succeeded in getting together a large portion of the money necessary to pay for them, bat still need a small sum to complete the payments. They intend giving an elegant ball tomorrow and tomorrow night at the Clarke R flja’ Armony on Broad street, and will charge a small admission prioe for the benefit of the band. Strict or der will be preserved, and an enj iyabl ; time is promised those who attend. Our people should help this band odt in a financial way and assist in putting it in a condition where it can furnish good music on all occasions in Athens Athens needs a good band, and the members of the Bloomfield band are endeavoring to give her one, and they shonld be aided and assisted in every way possible for among her most nr gent needs is a brass band. ssfsc Bie Hunt.—Sheriff Weir besides be- iug the best sheriff in the state is the b033 hunter. He returned Friday nigbt with 185 rabbits andG5 partridges. We might add that the sheriff had at least 25 helpers to kill the above number of rabbits and partridges. CHRISTMAS IN All WHAT COULD BB BEEN AMO? THE ATHENS POOR ANO HOW CHRISTMAS CAN "jSa — BE ftUDE HAPPY By Visiting the Fatherless and W»J ows In their Afmotion. Cotton has been selling high, go weather has broughtrth raaoy people the city and hae in'oreased the t among the merchants and bust mar, the manufacturers are in spirits over the work of the past and the prot pacts for the next. A roatt usevsry one s»emi to be pleased an prosperous. Every one senna to aati cipate a happy and a j >yful Christinas] A few days ago the Sannkr reports visited some families In Esut Athem that he had heard of as not heir g in th best of ciroumstanoes. The first was the home of a widow, one roomed cottage comprised the en tire household. She was surrounde- by four small children, the youngesi two years old, the oldest ten. Th furniture was poor and scarce, children scantily ulotbed and Mrs. looked worn and tired. Upon inquiry It was learned that om child, twelve years of age, was at wor earning four dollars per month, andi upon this and what money she madi by sewing, washing, ate., the entire family subsisted Her life had been comparatively pleas ant nntil a ye-ur ago, when 6he lost her husband, at the reoital of which she almost broke down. He had tried to save the life of a drowning child in the Oco nee and succeeded, but lost his own. Some good church friends had raised money enough to pay the faneral ex penses and pay for the little home she lived in. With her life was indeed a struggle. The future looked dark, and the prospeot of the coming Christmas gave her little hope. The next family visited was one that lived on Oak street. The home was one room in a long frame building occupied Dy several families. A widowlay sick—& hard, heavy cough caused her c insider- able pain. She was evidently the vic tim of that relentless and sad disease, consumption. Three children depended upon her for care and support, the old est thirteen years old, earned $1.50 per week in the co-ton factory and on tl is the family liveu. The city physicist was attending her and’ supplying her with medioinc. It could be easily seen though that more was needed than medicine to relieve ber sufferings. Her story was as follows: After her husband died two years ago, leaving ber with three small children, she found herself almost unable to support them. Her home was then in the country and she resolved to move to Athens, \kith the hope of making enough to support them by finding employmet in the cot ton factory. “ I worked in the ootton factory until 1 became too weak to work any longer. Some kind ladies have brought me some clothes for the children and other things since I have been sick.” Although the room was poorly and scantily furnished it had an air of clean liness about it that showed that, neglect or carelessness was no fault of the home ! Another home visited was on Peter street. A husband, wife and four child ren made up the family. The youngest child was four, the oldest thirteen years old. For ten weeks both husband and wife had been prostrated with sickness with the wages of a little girl at the factory sb their only support. Both were now recovering. Some kind ladies had bronght some clothing to the child ren and help to the family.. These ace only a few of the many cases of want and unrelieved suffering in and about Athens. The ladies who have for several weekglffi past been visiting and relieving Apse ’ families are a committee represen C'Y neither creed or denomination yvht v ^ independently carrying- on-'this nobler - s work. Mrs. J. W. Brumby, Mrs. W. W. Thomas and Mrs. Joe Fleming have tried to mskeChristmas*pleasant-time for as many people as their efforts and work would let them. Tuesday afternoon at the residency.ef Mrs. W. W. Thomas about seventy-dive poor children will be provided with clothing, toyB,.caodies and almost every thing that will help to make them com- fortable and happy. There may be some who were not &ware of this work going on and would like to spare from their abundance something that -*=ou!d relieve some one’s want. Tb^'^pnce of Mrs, W. W. Thomas at ?t«5^~jnce avenue, ia the headquarters for the Christmas giving to the poor and what is sent there will be wisely and well disposed of. About 3 o’clock yesterday evening about twenty good sized packages, filled ’ with all kinds of Christmas toys, fruits and presents, left the rooms of the jfejj Young Men’s Christian Association, carried by members of tb«f^ partment to twenty poor^ different quarters For several Do notallow yourself to be imposed on WO rking hard in by the many novel scheme", advertising j t hese gifts newand u - t’ied so-called cough r‘ir 5 — — - edi s; but stick to the old’reliable, Bull’s Cough Syrup, the unfa'ltng lor all affections of the throat ank chesi Christm “bringing goo and feeling jlessed to give than to
