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VOLUME 1.
COUFJiyORRESPONDENCE.
Kt'HAIU.KK ITEMS.
The Euharlec Fanner’s Club held Its
regular monthly meeting at the residence
of Mr. .1. C. Dodd on the second Satur
day in August, and was called to order
by Vice J’reaidynt B. T. Leeke. Mem-
Imm's all present except President link
and Dr. < alhoun. Crop reports read
from the various committees and showed
that all crops have been worked well;
corn good as the land will produce; cot
ton a little late but well fruited, and if
seasons continue will make a good yield.
The prize on wheat was awarded to Mr.
Daniel Sullivan, be being live pounds
ahead. The subject was discussed and
gave to some of the young members an
idea “Jlow farming \\aj* done fifty years
ago and the progress up to the present
time.” It is useless to try to enumerate
the good things that Mr. and Mrs. Dodd
had for the club to feast on, but will say
that each member enjoyed himself from
early morn till late in the afternoon.
The subject for next meeting: “Will it
pay to turn land with two-horse plows;
and if so what depth and what time.”
Next meeting to be held at 11. 11. Milam’s
second Saturday in September.
KINGSTON CULLINOS.
The weather is so intensely hot that
there is but little show of life or bustle
on our streets. The average merchant
s<-cks the coolest recess of his storehouse,
and sighs for a gentle zephyr to cool his
heated brow. Even the irrepressiblo
colored base ball Ist wilt under the fiery
heat of the noonday sun, and move with
as little alacrity as when employed to
work by the day.
The abundant rain which fell last \v r eek
has greatly Improved both corn and cot
ton, and the indications are that, with a
few more showers, the yield will be more
Hbi.mlaut than for years past. Your cor
respondent has just returned from a trip
through a portion of the county and was
extremely gratified at the crop outlook.
We are happy to announce that Miss
May Leake is thought to be improving,
and it is not improbable that she may yet
be restored to health.
Miss Eva Gillam, a pleasant young la
dy from Atlanta, who has been spending
a few weeks with her uncle, W. A. Gil
lum, of this place, has returned home.
The protracted meeting at the Metho
dist church conducted by Rev. J. E.
England, preacher in charge, and Rev.
Mr. Dillard, of Atlanta, has closed.
Much interest has been manifested
throughout the meeting, the membership
wonderfully revived and ten additions to
the church.
The entire community participated in
the good inllucnce resulting from the
meeting. Sinks.
NTI I.KBIIOKO STUNCfUNtiS.
Our people have gotten up an old
fashioned beef market. It is managed
in this wise: Eight neighbors agree each
to kill a beef once a week. The first
man kills and quarters his beef into eight
pieces, viz: neck, brisket, loin, ham, etc.
lie keeps a piece and sends tlio other
pieces to his neighbors, who are to kill
and so on until in eight weeks each man
gets hack his entire beef. The distribu
tion is managed so that each one gets two
of each of the above named parts. This
arrangement is quite convenient when
you live “ten miles from a lemon” or
beef market—which is all the same.
Our doctors do not have much over
riding, but there is some sickness, owing
chiefly to too great indulgence in eating
fruit and vegetables.
Since prohibition has been sot up in
llartow it is said some of our boys got
their mail in Rome.
Hog and chicken cholera are getting
in some serious work for us just now. In
view of the fact that we would have
plenty of corn to fatten hogs, this is quite
a calamity.
Stilesboro has had its mad dog sensa
tion. It was a real mad dog and no mis
take.
More copies of The Con rant are dis
tributed at our postotlioe than any other
paper. And our wish is, may it grow!
Mac.
THK IKONVILLK ITKMIZKK.
Kain in abundance. Farmers’ pros
pects are more encouraging; it has been
said “ they will be on their feet again.”
Hood news.'*
i-rs. Rowland have been very snc
in the cultivation of melons this
season, t ] u , many friends who enjoyed
their re*sent treat eau testify.
Mi Sa * Bell and May Weden, of San
dorsvUU*( ar e spendiug some time at
Huy ton. with the family of Maj. Renfroe,
their uiu[ e These young ladies are de
servedlj <{Kk|)ul&r in our community.
Mrs. >. R. Gibbons, of Rome, and chil
dren, a e visiting relatives at ‘‘Bonny
Brook’ and vicinity.
Mr. Motor Smith, of New York, is on
a tlyim visit to his parents at “Fontain-
Among other recent visitors of
abode are Mrs. S. Smith
jsijSisjsMliii'litor. 'li<s Mary, ol" Rome.
uly a time of \ i-it imr—then' i>
i- a time for all things, it is
■HHed. how ever, that "< '•■min Henry"
etc., etc., have deferred
HHHBi'fil to t'ousin William" for the
possibly it is too warm. The
Sjsjj*H>meter i- marking in the nineti*-.-
PfHW vo * al class n t - Mr. Morgan pro
mt satisfa; t<,nly. n.>tw ithstatulir-g
JKKB'.'.riy interforein-e-. Those pupils
to attend were certainly the
Mr. M. is decidedly a good in-
Ml* he proposes to teach.
/Bilge Jones, of Burke county, is vis
brother-in-iaw. Mr. TANARUS, N,
THE CARTERSVILLE COUKsvNT.
The church at Wofford’s Cross Roads
has been much blessed by a “time of re
freshing from the Lord” during the ten
day’s series of meetings concluded on
Sunday, the 9th. The pastor, Rev. T.
A. Owens, was ably assisted by Dr. AV.
M. Janes, of Dalton. Dr. llall, of New
nan, was also present on Friday and gave
the people a noble sermon, subject:
“Saul’s prayer, etc.” These brethren
preach Ihe way of life so clearly that
none need err therein. Indeed, we have
great cause for gratitude. Let every
thing that hath breath praise the Lord !
G. G.
SURMOUNT.
Fairmouxt, Georgia, Aug. 4.— The
Dalton District Conference of the Meth
odist Church South, embracing the coun
ties of Dade, Chattooga, Catoosa, Wal
kere Whitfield, Murray, Gordon and part
of Bartow, after a most interesting ses
sion of five days, adjourned yesterday
morning. While lingering in this lovely
valley 1 thought it might he interesting
to you and some of your readers to give
a few of my impressions.
One from the low country, when the
monotony of level lands and the somber
music of the pine forest is constantly be
fore the eye and in ttie ear, would nat
urally enjoy the change to this beautiful
land of mountains, hills and dales.
When the lovely scenery of this beauti
ful valley is added to by tiie grace of a
cultivated, Christian people, abounding
in a real typical Southern hospitality and
surrounded in their homes with the com
forts of prosperity, one finds, all that can
make life happy and home an earthly
paradise.
Halacoa, the name of the valley and of
the beautiful stream that glides over its
bosom, is an Indian name, which, lain
informed by mine host, Mr. Peeples, to
mean “corn and greese” —significant of
its wonderful fertility. One sees the ap
propriateness of the name in the large
fields of corn, whose luxuriant growth
seems to promise bread for thousands.
There is in the lovely landscape, perfect
in its combination of mountains, hills
and green-carpeted plains quite enough
to suggest thoughts which are not so
material as the meaning of the pretty
word “Salacoa,” as given me, would
provoke, llow glad I am there is no
town here, no artifice of conventional
usage, no pulling engines, no machine
manners and no jostling crowd, eager to
make a penny or a pound. I gratefully
thank God that all the world is not a hy
poceutieal automatic city. The people
live here just far enough apart to add to
the beauty of the landscape with their
neat and comfortable houses; just far
enough away from each other to have a
little kingdom of independence within
themselves.
The selection of such a place for the
meeting of a Christian associaton was a
happy thought, and the realization must
convince every thoughtful person that
the good spirits love the country and
would dwell there in preference to a cor
rupt and deceitful city.
The session of the conference is re
ported to be, by its members, the most
satisfactory in every respect ever held.
Over one hundred delegates were in at
tendance, among them some of the most
intelligent and prominent gentlemen of
North Georgia. These delegates, or
members, of the conference are divided
into two classes—the clerical and lay, the
whole being presided over by a bishop or
presiding elder. There being no bishop
at present, Rev. Mr. Quillian, the pre
siding elder of the district, was by vir
tue of his olliee, president of the confer
ence—a gentleman of excellent manners
and Christian culture. There were many
distinguished clergymen present, among
whom Rev. Dr. David Sulims, of Ten
nessee, president of Centenary College,
Rev. Dr. George Smith, Sunday school
agent, and Rev. Dr. S. P. Richardson
were recognized from their age and abil
ity as most prominent. The lay delegates
comprised judges, generals, colonels, etc,
—all the way down to the good country
squire and the plain but the rare Mister.
In the conference these lay delegates
have as much, and some of them, more
influence than the clergy. I was much
impressed with the earnestness and force
of Mr. Shumate, of Dalton, the elegance
and eloquence of Mr. or Colonel Capers,
from your section. It is rare that one
meets gentlemen from the walks of the
busy world who evidence more zeal and
who please with more grace and thought
ful expression. My communication
would be too long if 1 should attempt a
synopsis of the debates, the resolutions
passed and the line speeches made. The
educational, and all other interests of the
church were well considered and acted
upon. Every day, morning, noon and
night, discourses were delivered, sermons
preached, exhortations made by the
ministers. Such singing your correspon
dent has rarely ever heard except among
tiie blacks, who are proverbial for their
line melodiuos voices.
The notable sermons were delivered by
Doctors Sullins, Richardson and George
Smith. Dr. Sullins is a type of the men
who made famous the Methodist preach
ers of thirty years ago. He is yet vigor
ous in mind and body. On Sunday he
delivered a sermon of great power from
the t£xt, “I will put enmity between thy
her seed.” The meeting was
noted for its great crowd and the spirit
uality that pervaded everywhere. On
Sunday it was estimated that over three
thousand people assembled at the great
bush arbor. Well, now it is over, the
great crowd has dispersed, the preachers
and delegates are all gone and as I write
you it seems that a spirit of rest and
peace is brooding over a place sanctified
by the presence of God’s holy sph it. 1
am informed the next conference is to be
fheld at Adairsville.
Miumu.
CARTERSVILLE, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, AUGUST 20, 1885.
BELLA S BEGINNINGS.
Young Mrs. Cavendish that was to be,
at some time in the dim future, and Miss
Siatterleigh that was, and that, for all
she could see, was likely to remain, be
trothed to the lover of her choice, but
forbidden by her father to marry till her
husband could furnish his, own house,
was in a state bordering upon despair.
Nor could she discover any way out of
this slough ot despond, and into the fine
establishment which both she and many
of her friends felt it necessary for her to
have; for Cavendisli was in the law, and
the small returns of his practice, add
them over as many times as you would,
always amounted to the same, a sum as
inadequate to their united wants in the
opening and garnishing of a home as a
penny token would have been.
She used to sit down and picture to
herself the house she wanted and the
things she wanted in it. If she could
not have it in reality, it was pleasant to
have it in imagination; and she would
locate it and build it and furnish it and
add to it and improve it on every idle oc
casion that she had, only to see it tum
bled down again by the next hard fact
that gave it all a blow. Still, while she
was about it, and it cost her nothing to
speak of, she might as well have it the
best there was to be had; and thus hav
ing undertaken the thing fancifully, it
grew to have an actuality of its own, and
it was hard to get the habit of it out of
her head, until she had naturally, but
rather unwarrantably, come to expect a
beginning with something as superb as
most people are willing to end with.
Meanwhile, it must be confessed, she
found it weary waiting. Time was wear
ing on, too; perhaps her beauty would
be really all gone before her wedding
day—and then, would there beany wed
ding day ? It is true, she had had a pro
posal from a millionaire no older than
Mary Carlisle’s husband, and much more
agreeable; but she had scouted it, being
in love. She meant that Cavendish
should be a millionaire, or at any rate,
live in something next to a millionaire’s
house; and, of course, she knew there
was not the slightest prospect ot it, un
less somebody would retain him on a
great will case in equity, or a great rail
road case anywhere, and hinc iliac, lacri
mae; for her heart sank within her to see
his worn, pale face; to realize that youth
with all its bouyancy was leaving them ;
that she was close upon her thirtieth
year, and they seemed to be no nearer
together now than they did five years
ago. Five years ago—what a wilderness
and waste of an engagement! Neither
gods nor men had any pity on them,
plainly.
“I don’t know that 1 think it at all de
sirable you should marry, Anna,” her
father had said. “With your ideas, 1
can’t see how you will avoid driving
Cavendish head over ears in debt and
suicide in a year.”
“Father!”
“Yes, Anna. I’m speaking seriously.
I’m sure of it. A man may have all the
good principles in the Koran, but when
he comes to be hounded on by the wo
man he loves from one extravagance to
another, the end isn’t doubtful.”
“That is too idle, father. Neither I
nor anyone else eould make Cavendish
take one step that he thought wrong,
you know very well!” said Anna, with
tremendous dignity.
“I know you will make him take some
steps that he will think Spanish,” said
the old gentleman. “What right haye
either of you to want more than your pa
rents had when they started up the hill ?
And as for him —a bird must build his
nest before he fills it.
“Now, I’ll tell you what,” said the
worthy old citizen, taking his coat tails
over each arm out of the way of an im
aginary fire: “I’ll make you a fair pro
posal. When you can find a little house,
with, let us say, a dining-room and kitch
en on the first floor, a drawing-room over
that, three chambers and an attic (more
than your mother and I had, by a great
deal, and a perfect desert for two young
people and a servant to be lost in), and
Cavendish thinks he can furnish it—
why, then I will make you a gift of the
deed ot the house, and the house is at
53 Poneedeleon Place.” And the wor
thy gentleman stepped into the hall be
fore she could reply, tugged on his big
surtout, and, with his gold-headed cane,
as stout as a policeman’s baton, went out
on his rounds.
A little house, with dining-room and
kitchen, drawing-room over that, three
chambers and an attic! Poor Anna
burst into tears—why, goodness only !
knows, unless it was for fear that she
should accept the offer. And then her
cheeks were burning and her nose was
red, and Cavendish was coming in the
evening, and if she didn’t want to have i
him get tired of her altogether he mustn't j
see her iu such a plight as that; and she !
ran to rosewater for relief, and then be- \
took herself to a walk in the sunshine to
restore her color and her spirits.
She was thinking it all over, and won
dering whether she had better tell Cav
endish anything about the little house or
not, when she found herself in Bella
Mining’s neighborhood. Bella, whose
family had a pedigree as long as the law,
but hardly a piece of silver to cross their
palms with, and who, herself, had mar
ried a man with a salary not any more
than equal to the sum which Mr. Slat
terleigh had allowed Anna and her rnoth-
I er for their dress, not to speak ot their
| flowers and perfumes and confectionery.
! It occurred to Anna all at once that it
i was high time she called on Bella, and
j then while she was there she would look
! about her and see. what love in a cottage
was like; not that she meaut to do any
! such silly tiling herself as Bella had
done, but then it was well to regard ail
I sides of a matter.
i It was a dark and narrow street that
Bella lived in, walled In loftily at either
side by mansions once belonging to the
old noblesse of the city, who had left
them long since, however, for airier
abodes; but the street ran down to the
bay, and there was a delightful vista all
the way through, and at Bella’s house
there was a slight projection which must
make the vista a perpetual possession of
the front parlor. And what a little gem
of a house it was ! As Anna turned her
head from side to side of the prettj* par
lor she almost confessed to herself that it
was really cozier and pleasanter than a
palace, though she shivered immediately
afterward with apprehension, as if the
mere thought were half a pledge. And
what a darling little maid, in white bib
and tucker, not ten years old, had let her
in, and now came to her side and said
Mrs. Viqing would be down directly.
Anna could have kissed her, but for her
fears of the effect of such an act upon the
discipline of the household. Perhaps,
she said, they had canaries trained to
draw the water, and educated mice in
the pantry, and learned fleas for the er
rands.
“Oh, Bella!” said she, as Mrs. Vining
entered, and forgetting all formality,
‘do you believe I could find such a quaint,
delightful little maid?’
“Oh, Anna!” said the other, “a hun
dred of them. She is only the cook’s
daughter, who has her living and her
dress for waiting on door and table.”
Ajid then, at the simple little confession,
it flashed on Anna that here was the per
son for her confidence and her consola
tion, and she would swear her to truth
on the bones of all her grandmothers,
and then learn if, being married on noth
ing, she had ever regretted it. And out
came the whole of poor Anna’s story;
and when she had told it she blushed for
shame, for, translated into plain words,
there seemed to be nothing of it except
that she did not love her lover well
enough to do without luxury for his
sake.
But Bella did not look at it in that
way at all. Her heart swelled with sym
pathy. “Regret it?” she cried, with
flushing cheeks, and quivering with ea
gerness to add another martyr to the
fire. “Oh, regret it! Why I never knew
what happiness was before—oh, never,
never! And as for the nothing part, the
income—why, it’s just like the parable of
the loaves and fishes, and Charles freely
admits that there is more to sparo now
than there was in the old times when he
only gave me gloves and bonbons and
took me to concerts. He saves it in his
clothes alone, my dear. Oh, you don’t
know! We keep house together, we do,
indeed, almost—yes, almost for what it
cost him once to board alone. And I
knit his stockings and make his shirts,
and re-seat his*trousers and bind his
coats, and when it isn’t to be done any
more, sell his old clothes for ground-glass
vases--”
“Oh, well, then, Bella,” said her lis
tener, in a comical solemnity, “it’s of no
use my talking to you, because I don’t
know how to knit socks and make shirts
and seat trousers; and 1 don’t want to
know, for I’m very sure it never would
pay in the world, if I had to slave after
that fashion.”
Slave!” said Bella. “Why, it’s mere
happiness—in the evening, when he’s
reading to me. Sometimes then, when
the storm is all wild and white outside,
and the air is so soft on the inside, with
the shade on the gas, and I look at him
in the ring of the light, and listen to his
voice, and watch the smoke of his pipe
curl up, and it all is so delightful, so se
cure, I say to myself: This is our grave;
we are in heaven. Oh! how can I be
telling you so much? Only that I want
you to be just as happy!”
Perhaps the little creature’s ecstasy
softened Anna the least atom in the
world more.
“Well, it may be all very nice—if you
like it,” she admitted. “But there! it’s
no use for me to speak, even. I wonder
I should make such a fool of myself! I
don’t suppose Cavendish has more than
a thousand dollars in all the world to be
gin with. That might get a Kiddermin
ster and an oil-cloth; but as for any
thing more—”
‘\Now, Anna dear, as I’ve been so
opefci with you, I might as well tell all
the rest,” cried the impulsive Bella.
“Just come over the whole house with
me, and let me show you every thing;
and then you shall guess how much it
all cost, and I will tell you the solemn
truth.”
So over the house the little procession
walked. Hot much of a walk, by-the
way, since at the top of the second stair
case there was a partition; and Bella
confessed to Anna that the upper stories
were rented to another young family,
who used the door opening on the alley,
ard had no more communication with
them than with any other household.
“You see, it saves us half the rent,” said
Bella, “and so we can put that by to
ward the rainy days,” and she opened
the door of the remotest room—the ser
vant’s room. Anna glanced in, and saw
straw matting, painted pine, copper-plate
counterpane and curtains, a lithograph
of the Virgin of the Veil above the bed.
Neat, if not alluring. The next room
was the spare chamber. Straw matting
again, with a large square of bordered
Brussels in the centre, a handsome black
walnut bedstead and bureau, a
arm-chair covered with sMk dimity, some
straw chairs and a straw lounge, white
book-muslin curtains tied up with blue
ribbons, a toilet-table where some shin
ing blue stuff was draped rnd flu fed nn
' derneath the same muslin, /a Parian
copy of a grape-crowned head, of Ariad
■ ne, and two or three engravings framed
in passe-partout and decollated with
plumes of grass—as cool and airy as
i some snowy cave, with all its Hlue-green
1 light. “That room,” said Bqlla—“that
whole room cost me not quite one hun
dred and fifty dollars.”
“What!” cried Anna.
“Yes, it did,” said Bella, emphatical
ly. “I will tell you all about it. I found
the matting at an auction sale, though it
was spick and scan new; the Brussels
square and the bordering were remnants
and I had them for cost. I looked at sets
of furniture, and they appalled me;
there was nothing decent till you came
to three and live hundred dollars; but I
came across a bedstead in one place that
had been made to order and never ta
ken, and an odd bureau at another. So I
got my set for eighty dollars. I made
my own mattresses, I and an old woman ;
it’s perfectly easy, I assure you, with a
long mattress-needle. As for the arm
chair, we made that ourselves too, out of
an old hogshead; we did indeed —you
needn’t laugh, its as comfortable as a
throne; and we covered it with a quilt of
my mother’s; and we cut the engravings
from an old Art Union and trained them.
But this is what I consider our greatest
triumph,” said Bella, and she ran to the
toilet-table and lifted the muslin, with
its quillings and mchings and all its
fluted searcenet underneath, ami disclos
ed an old pine packing box.
“Bella, you are a little witch,” cried
Anna.
“Am I not? Well, I do think this
room is an achievement. But my room
is better still. Here it is. My bedstead
there, with all that beautiful white and
gold lattice work, is only an iron one,
and cost almost nothing. My carpet—
well, that was extravagant, perhaps, but
I meant my room to be perfectly beauti
ful ; and then I thought that pale mottle
would just match the pale chintz cur
tains and toilet-covers and chairs; and as
for the dressing-table, the ottomans, the
footstools, they are all old packing-boxes
again; and the easy-chair i3 a barrel;
and that little hour-glass table, covered
with the chintz, was made out of two bar
rel heads and a broom handle. Ot course
all that took time, but then time was the
only thing I had too much of. Then I
bought the china sets and vases from an
old-clothes man, as I told you; and there
isn’t any frame but the paper one, with
the . pressed autumn leaves pinned all
round it, to that old second-hand look
ing-glass ; and we bought little mouldings
of white wood for those bright water-col
ors of mine; and Charlie cut the brack
ets out of cigar boxes and polished and
oiled them. And as for the flying Mer
cury, I always wanted one, and, of
course, I couldn’t have it, for it costs
fifty or sixty dollars; so I contented my
self with this plaster one painted green,
witli gold powder rubbed in: it looks a
little like the flying Mercury, and a little
like a huge grasshopper, but it brings
such an aerial sense of springing strength
and lightness into the room, that I am
glad I have it, if I did pay five dollars
for it.”
“Oh, Bella! and to think of the fifty
dollars I waste almost every week of my
life!”
“Well, you have it to waste, or else
you couldn’t,” said the practical little
matron. “But about this carpet. When
Charlie gave me the money for the
house, I said the first thing is the car
pets, and the halls and parlors and din
ing-room must have nice ones. So I
knew Mrs. Burleigh was just going to
buy new carpets, and I thought it we
could get them oil' the same pieces we
could get them at wholesale price, for
she wanted ever so many hundred yards,
and I wanted a good deal, and we went
together to a wholesale place, and—just
think! —all that carpeting for two hun
dred dollars!”
“Two hundred? Why, I thought car
pets—”
Yes, indeed, two hundred and no
more. Then I went to the owner of the
house and fairly talked him into taking
out the old fixtures and putting in new
ones, perfectly plain, dark ones up
stairs; but in the drawing-room these
tiny gilt ones, with all their fine chains,
just like pieces of Roman gold jewelry,
and in the hall that little bronze Hindoo
boat full of flowers, you remember, that
the Girls on the Ganges send out with
a light to tell about their lovers. You
don’t know how much they have to do
with the effect. He said, though, he
shouldn’t do it for every one; but he
liked my pluck and my taste, and having
the plain ones up stairs and in tiie din
ing-room saved them to him, as he could
use the old ones in anew house, too.
Then I padded the floors and the stairs,
and had the carpets stretched over them,
and made the hassocks myself. Isn’t
that crimson beautiful? And Charles
had a splendid leopard skin to lay down
before the fender, and we got some light,
spider-legged chairs painted black —a
dollar a piece—and sewed on springs,
and stuffed them, and then tacked on a
bit of canvas, and over that a tit of car
nation cloth with gilt-headed nails—see,
you couldn’t find anything prettier in
ebony. I bought a real parlor arm-chair
in that same cloth—a perfect sleepy hol
| low—and a little bit of a marbietop, and
one mirror, at an auction, to be sure.
You don’t know what you can do at aue
! tions till you hang round a little: and
i Charlie had that lovely library table,
| and the low book-cases and busts, be
fore.” *
“Oh, how fortunate!” cried Anna,
who had forgotten all about palaces, and
was quite rapt in this delight of making
both ends meet. “But there were your
windows, and your dining room, and —”
“My four windows cost me just fifteen
dollars. For I bought that imitation
Nottingham lace, and I edged it with
imitation Cluny; it looks just as pretty,
and washes just as well, and I should
like to know who’s going to stop and ex
amine it. And then in the dining-room,
chairs and Turkey red curtains and an
extension tabid, cheap, but. covered with
a beautiful cloth, for Aunt Maria gave
me my house linen, loads of it, and Aunt
Jane my glass and china, as your aunts
will do, you may rest easy, and more
too.”
“But then the kitchen ?”
“Oil, pa gave me the kitchen furni
ture; it was all he could do, with my
wardrobe, too, you know. And he told
me to take my piano, that cottage, and
one of the old family portraits. I chose
ray great-grandmother, when she was a
little girl, with her parrot on her wrist.
And then the wedding presents came,
Anna. You don’t know how they eke
out and fill up the chinks. Not a great
deal of silver, but all those little bits of
paintings—two or three from the artists
themselves, who happened to be friends
of Charlie’s—those lovely chromos and
statuettes and book racks, and that pe
destal and head. It did seem as though
I had been making friends all my life
with an eye to my wedding presents.”
“Absurd, Bella! I didn’t give you
any.”
“Why, yes, you did. Don’t you recol
lect years and years ago giving me that
china flowerpot? Here it is. I had
been growing that ivy in it for all those
years on purpose. Just look at it; doesn’t
it seem to he alive, so green and dewy?*
could anything be lovelier? Isn’t it the
most charming, cozy room in the city?”
cried the young wife, enraptured with
herself. “Only one tiling—-my lounge
—I forgot. I wanted one, of course; but
they were a hundred and fifteen dollars
and upward, and what I should do I did
not know. And then, just as I was ready
to die with the blues, an idea struck me;
and I went to anew upholsterer and I
said—l must tell you—l said, ‘Can I find
a box here of such and such dimensions?’
I forget now the feet and inches. And
he said, ‘Oh, yes; for four dollars.’ So 1
bought it. And then I said, I want to
have a common, cheap spring mattress
fastened upon that; how much will that
bo?’ He thought about ten dollars. So
I went away and bought my carnation
cloth, that cost fifteen dollars—you know
it is an immense width; and I cut off
enough for my pillows, and made and
covered and corded and tasseled them,
and carried the rest of the cloth to the
upholsterer and asked him what he
would want to let one of his men tack
that on my box ‘ship-shape,’ and he said
he guessed a couple of dollars. And
when it was done he brought it home,
and I put on the pillows; and he stopped
and looked at it a minute, and then at
me, ‘Well,’ said he, ‘if you ain’t the
dashedest smart woman I ever come
across! You got out of me for thirty
dollars what I ask a hundred and thirty
for.’ And I felt as pleased as any prima
donna does when her audience applaud
her, I can assure you. And Charlie
thinks—oh, I can’t tell you what Charlie
thinks! But the whole furnishing of
this house, Anna, just cost him six hun
dred and sixty-five dollars and thirty
seven cents.” And here Mrs. Bella
broke off to catch tiie breath that had run
away with her, and went to bring her
guest a bit of bread and some wine, for
she knew Anna must be ready to faint
with listening to her nonsense; but she
had wanted Anna to see how much re
spectability and beauty and happiness
could be gotten out of how little money.
“I don’t dare to think of it,” said
Anna, when her hostess seemed to have
run down. “I can’t beat down people,
as you can, by just looking innocently at
them. I’m thirty, and awfully digni
fied.”
“Oh, I’ll go with you.”
“And as for all that machinery of
packing-boxes and chintz and brass nails,
what is the use of beginning so, when I
should certainly break down in the first
year, and cry my eyes out for a thread
lace bonnet, or something I used to have
and can’t now?’’
“Well, to be sure,” said Bella, greatly
dampened for half a moment, “all that
depends on whether you care most for
thread lace bonnets or Mr. Cavendish.”
“I wonder how it would do,” said
Anna, taking no notice of such a thrust
as that, “to furnish one’s whole house
with those old-fashioned cherry-wood
things; high-post bedsteads with testers,
and chests of drawers with brass knock
ers to the ceiling -that you find in sec
ond-hand stores —buy them for old fire
wood and have them cleaned?”
“Old firewood?” cried Bella. “Oh,
you dear little idiot! They cost ten thou
sand times more than the best carved
rosewood that ever was. Somebody
lives on Fifth Avenue, though, that
burns rosewood altogether, but he’s the
only one in the world can afford such
fire-wood!”
“Well, then, I don’t know what is to
become of me; because, you see, I have
not got an atom of mechanical skill, and
I never can do these things.”
“Not if I come and help you ?” asked
the insinuating Bella.
“What would be the use of that,” the
other asked, “when it’s merely begin
ning that way; it’s keeping on that way ?
Suppose— Oh, dear me, what’s the use
of supposing? Good-by. I’m going to
bring Cavendish round to see you, any
way. May I? I’m so sorry I haven’t
been before! llow good you are to me.”
Kiss, kiss, and she was gone. j
I’m sure I don’t know what Anna vs
going to do about it. But I met her
walking around Poncedeleon Place wiUh
Mr. Cavendish that very night, and' I
fancied that she must have quite forgot
ten about her palace. And as I Wnow
Cavendish has left off smokingv and
every time be feels like taking a (Ygar is
dropping the price of one into his/strong
box, and as Anna is hoarding J all the
checks her father gives her fo/ her au
tumn dresses and new jewel/y, and is
turning her old silks, I thinly, with Mr.
Slatterleigh, that things loefk hopeful;
and I shouldn’t wonder if sPoncedeleon
NUMBER 29.
Ptooe were furnished soon, and without
much recourse to packing-boxes and
seareenet, if Mr. Slatterleigh has his
way. At any rate, [ met Anna going
home the other day, followed by a small
boy bearing an enormous plant, and as
she ran up the steps to let him in I beard
her gayly singing to herself.
“Oh, a rare old plant is the ivy greon.”
XIII3 AKT OF EMBALMING.
The Modern Process Inferior to that Used
lu Ancient Egypt, but Gaining In
Favor.
Two men sat silent in the handsomely
furnished store on a leading New York
thoroughfare. A small portion of the
furniture and ornaments pertained to the
living, the remainder to the dead. It
was an undertaker’s establishment, and
the younger but more solemn person was
a professional embalmer. In answer to
the reporter’s questions, he said:
“Gen. Grant’s embalming was work of
the finest kind, something to be proud ot.
It was done by the leader of our profess
ion, and with the best materials in the
market. There are many mortuary direc
tors who profess to be embalmers, and
who know a smattering of the art, but
they are unworthy the name. Real em
balmers are few in number, there not
being more than ten in the entire coun
try, To be one an undertaker must have
a sufficient knowledge of surgery, medi
cine, and chemistry, and must also have
considerable artistic sense. This makes
a rare combination.
“The chief element in embalming con
sists in the removing a large portion of
blood from the body and substituting
therefor some powerful antiseptic fluid.
Many experiments have been made in
respect to those liquids. I can hardly re
call how many preparations have been
tried. Brine, salicylic acid, diluted creo
sote, solutions of sulphate of zinc, and the
iodite and chloride of that metal. You
see, the fluid used must be nearly color
less, or else verging on blood color, and
must not cause discoloration. This pre
cludes the use of salts of copper, iron,
manganese, and chromium, and also of
compounds of sulphur.
“A solution of chloride of zinc was at
one time in vogue, but in several instan
ces it produced a ghastly bluish tinge,
and so went entirely out of fashion. The
so-called Egyptian fluid was a standard
preparation for years. It was so named
by its manufacturer, who claimed that it
was the same liquid as was used in pre
paring the mummies of Egypt. It was
improved upon, however, by some Amer
ican chemists, who now have a practical
monopoly in supplying embalmers with
the fluid. Their manufacture is styled
the Oriental fluid, and is made in Bos
ton .
“In embalming, a large vein and large
artery are opened, and a small force
pump, connected with a vessel contain
ing the antiseptic fluid, is applied. The
process requires from two to four hours.
The national movement of the circulation
is followed. As the fluid enters the
blood vessels the blood is forced out.
The longer the time the better the result.
A short time enables the operator to re
move the blood from only the larger ves
sels. In a longer period the fluid pas
ses from the larger to-the
and into the capillaries. This distends
the skin and produces a life-like appear
ance.
“The cost of the process is from sls
upwards. Embalming grows more com
mon every year. In the past thirty
months our establishment has embalmed
about 200 subjects. We are still behind
the ancients in our work. In the main,
a subject well treated lasts three years.
This is a fair average. It would be lon
ger if it were not for occasional cases in
which the antiseptic liquids seem to lose
their efficiency. There is, however, a
distinguished chemist in Italy who claims
to petrify a subject by using some silicate
preparation. Though I have not seen
the process employed, yet I have
baen shown specimens which resembled
petrifaction.
“A second duty of the embalmer is the
sime as that of an undertaker, to make
the subject as life-like and natural as pos
sible. There is a division in the profess
ion at this point. Some endeavor by art
t) restore almost all the characteristics of
life: others merely endeavor to remove
the disagreeable insignia of death. As
for myself, I think it proper to conceal
the marks of or dis
ease. No art can faraway the horror
of death. Its excess makes death tl.e
m )re terrible by contrast,
“The embalmer runs the risk of dis
ease and blood poi oning. A subject
once preserved and treated is innocuous:
but in the process the germs of the dis
eise from which he died are expelled in
vast numbers of the blood. The opera
tor in such cases always runs the risk of
contagion and infection. Blood poison
ing is hpt to occur to the embalmer as
to the Surgeon. The danger in all these
cases,/however, can be guarded against.
who are attacked are nine times
out/f ten ignorant funeral directors, who
ca/.themseiyes embalmers when they are
n
/ CUKE FOR PILES.
Piles arc frequently preceded by a sense of
weight in the back, loins and lower part of the
abdomen, causing the patient to suppose he has
some afiection of the kidneys or neighboring or
gans. At times symptoms of indigestion are
present, flatulency, uneasiness of the stomach,
etc. A moisture, like perspiration, producing a
very disagreeable itching, after getting warm,
is a common attendant. Blind, Bleeding and
Itching Piles yield at once to the application of
Dr. Bo.sanko’s Pile Remedy, which acts directly
upon the parts effected, absorbing the Tumors,
allaying the intense itching, and effecting a per
manent cure. Price 50 cents. Address, The
Bosanko Medicine Cos., Piqua, O. Sold by D. W.
urr.y , , , may 7-ly
CURRY’S COUGH CURE,
For Coughs, Colds, Hoarseness, Etc.
and 75 cents per bottle.