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THE CARTERS VILLE COURANT.
VOLUME 1.
WHO.
From the New York Clipper. j
Who j|r<:ac:hcth much and hard against the
charm
Of money fccttinK, styling it a harm.
Yd halh for higher pay an itching palm ?
The Parson!
Who practlaeth *o care—perchance to kill—
And. (jnite uncertain, gueeseth at our, ill.
Itut certain, hit or miss, to send his hill ?
Tha Doctor!
Whoeonntcth “figures ’ blessing in disguise,
An<i “corners,"e’en in grain, scarce otherwise,
And looketh on the “margin” as a prize?
The Broker!
Who Bpoculatot.il high with others’ cash,
Ami cuttoih for a time a royal dash,
Then, sudden, goetli to demnition smash!
The Cashier!
Who looketh wisely from his lofty lair,
CiiHscth to-morrow’s weather here and there:
< l ies fair when all comes foul, and foul when
fair:
The Weather Quack!
Who hath direction la our homes, and full,
Ju ail concern# domestic hath “pull,
And taketh hy the horns, as ’twere, the bull?
The Mother-in-law!
Who putteth on the housekeeper a head,
As ’twere, when sendeth he his hill so dread
Tor charcoal, solder, and a little lead?
The Plumber!
Who, of all mortals balding us in thrall
In some way, on this ever-whirling ball,
Lctteth us down the easiest of all ?
The Undertaker !
COURANT CORRESPONDENCE.
CITY COURT,
For the Courant.
There was a man in Stilesboro a few
days ago circulating a petition for a city
court for Bartow county, but from the
report of the success he had on that line,
he did not get much encouragement. In
fact, the people of this part of the county
are almost an unit in their objections to
u city court, and especially are they so,
when it is sought to oust the present pop
ular judge of the county court, and have
in his stead anew man and greater ex
penses attached thereto. That man will
Is* a hold legislator who, knowing the
feelings of onr people, will vote to have
a court foisted upon us against our
will. It had been predicted that when
ever there would be a change in our
county Court, anew judge and netv offi
cers would Ini asked for. And now it
turns out to be just that way. The pe
tition carries on its face a man other
than tlie present judge of the county
court. We repeat, the people do not
want this court, and it has never been
asked for, save only by a few particular
ly interested in it. The whole tiling is
gotten up, as we believe, to satisfy a very
small part of our citizens, who know
they have nothing to lose by getting up
a squabble, and who hope that through
anew deal something may turn up for
them. This whole scheme has vox pop
ull against it., and we cannot be per
suaded to believe that our immediate
representatives will support such a
measure. 11. J. McCormick.
I HOM TilK WIKE-UItASS REGION.
Qiitman, Ga m Aiif,'. 22.
Mr. Editor : We of the “Sunny
South” have no complaint against the
weather. Our summer lias been gener
ally a very pleasant one. It is true that
in July we had a few very hot days, but
this month in the main has been pleasant,
especially evenings and mornings. As
for the nights, vve have had very few to
be called warm ones during the whole
summer. The highest “ooint reached in
the hallway of the writer was 92° and 90°
in the porch. These were the extreme
points indicated by the thermometer dur
ing the present summer.
We have had some dry weather, but
we had rain in time to save the corn.
Southern Georgia never had a finer pro
vision crop since its early settlement.
Tins the writer knows, for he has been
here since its early settlement. At the
time ho made his debut here there we*e
Indians in the land; the Creeks on one
hand and the Serainoles on the other.
Where are the Creeks now? Echo an
swers, “Where?” while the Setninoles
occupy the “Everglades,” and they tell
the white man that they want their place
and then they, too, may migrate.
We have fine health here, although
an occasional sick person may be found;
but we have verv little malarial sickness
la tins section of Southern Georgia. Up
country men, as they are familiarly called,
are in the main alraid to visit Southern
Georgia for fear malaria may leap from
name swamp or quagmire and shake
them pieces. But chills are as rare a
thi-sv* Jiere as In Middle Georgia.
we have churches here as well as
elsewhere, and some good meetings; we
have religion, the ever-blessed gospel and
the venereted and highly-prized Bible.
Well might the venerated Collinsworth
exclaim, “The Bible, the Bible! the re
ligion of Protestants. A people that have
the Bible never cau be slaves.”
11. W. S.
KINGSTON CALLINGS.
Pt, We are pleased to note the smiling
face of Miss Carrie Rogers in our midst
again. She is back on a visit to her aunt,
Mrs. J. D. Rogers. Miss Carrie lias many
frieuds here who are always glad to wel
come her return.
Some of our young people attended the
ice cream festival given in Cassville last
Friday night, but as we were not one of
the lucky few who procured tickets, we
do not feel ourselves competent to 'write
up’ the occasion ; though, judging, from
the commendation of the management,
and expressions of pleasure from those
who attended, we presume it to have been
a successful undertaking and a most en
joyable affair.
We paid a flying visit to Acworth on
the 30th, inst., and was surprised to find
everything so active and bustling during
this doll season. Her business men seem
to be wide awake, accommodating gentle
men, and we wish for them the success
they deserve. During our short stay we
were most hospitably entertained by Capt.
R. M. Mitchell, one of Acwortli’s staunch
est business, and a most hospitable, gen
tleman. While there, we attended ser
vices at the Baptist church, over which
the Rev. (i. S. Tumliri is pastor, and lis
tened to an excellent sermon, delivered by
Rev. Mr. Dyar. llev. Mr. Tumlin lus
been holding meetings at this church for
the past week or two, and seemed to be
in the midst of a glorious revival. Ou our
return to Kingston we were pained to
learn of an unfortunate accident by which
our estimable friend and fellow-citizen,
Mr. Z. W. Oglesby, came near losing his
life. He was assisting in removing some
gins from the gin shops of Oglesby & Bro.
to a ware house on the opposite side of
town. The gins being very insecurely
placed upon the dray, Mr. Oglesby pro
posed riding on the rear end, that he
might be better enabled to hold them in
position. While attempting to do so his
feet slipped from tlieir hold, and he fell
from the dray, face downward, and one of
the gins, which weighs between three and
five hundred pounds, fell upon him. He
was badly bruised, and suffered great
pain, though it is ilie opinion of the at
tending physician that he is not injured
internally. We trust that he is not, and
hope ere many days to see him on our
streets again. The old adage that afilic
tions never come singly, seems to be veri
fied in this instance, for on the following
day Mr. Oglesby’s little son fell from one
of tlie windows and broke his arm. The
little fellow is getting on as well as could
be expected at present. N.
MAKING DEATH PAINLESS.
The fact that narcotics were freely
used throughout the illness of Gen.
Grant to secure sleep, ease, and freedom
trom pain, and were asked for hy the pa
tient and promised to him openly by his
physicians, in the event of their being
needed, to procure a quiet and painless
death, seems to have been accepted quite
as a matter of course by people in gener
al. Only a very few years ago, howev
er, the idea of moderating the fear or as
suaging the pains of death by the use of
narcotics or stimulants w ould have been
horrifying to the great majority of Chris
tian people. This rapid and very mark
ed change of opinion, whatever its cause
may be, and however moderate the de
gree of attention bestowed upon it by
the public, has been very closely ob
served by physicians, and in the belief of
some of them, as stated to the reporter,
will bring about an increased use of se
dative drugs for distressed and dying pa
tients.
In discussing the matter physicians
are necessarily drawn to its logical con
sequences, and these may be summed up
iu the question, “Have we a right under
certain circumstances to cut short our
lives?” In one of the recent articles on
the subject by Dr. Amiek, in the Cincin
nati Medical Journal, an abstract is giv
en of the question as formulated by a
prominent member of the Birmingham
Speculative Club. The statement is in
teresting, from the fact that it is accept
ed by many medical men as being a fair
exposition of the argument. The term
euthanasia, or “an easy death,” is de
scribed as intended to convey the follow
ing meaning:
“That in all eases of painless and hope
less illness it should be tlie recognized
duty of the medical attendant, whenev
er so desired by tlie patient, to adminis
ter chloroform or other anaesthetic, so as
to destroy consciousness at once, and put
the suffererto a quick and easy death,
all needful precautions being adopted to
prevent any possible abuse of such duty,
and means being taken to establish
beyond all possibility of a doubt that the
remedy was applied at the express wish
of the patient.”
In defending the act the writer says:
“Cases of this class abound on every
hand, and those who have had to witness
suffering of this kind, and to stand help
lessly by, longing to administer to the
beloved one, yet unable to bring any real
respite or relief, may w'ell be impatient
with the easy going spirit that sees in all
this suffering nothing but ‘the appointed
lot of man,’ and that opposes as almost
impious every attempt to deal with it
effectually. Why should all this suffer
ing be endured ? The patient desires to
die; his life can no longer be of use to
others, and has become an intolerable
burden to himself. The medical attend
ant is at tlie bedside with all the re
sources of -his knowledge, and could
bring him immediate and permanent re
lief. Why should his not doing so be
recognized as a sovi reign duty?”
To the objection that this would vio
late the saeredne.es of life, the writer
says:
“Nature knows nothing of any such
sacredness, for there is nothing of which
she is so prodigal. And man has shown
little sense of the value of human life
when his passions or lusts or interests
have been thwarted by his brother man,
or seem likely to be forwarded by his
destruction. A sense of the value of his
own individual life man has, indeed, sel
dom been defieient in; and, by a kind of
reflex aetipn, this sense has slowly given
birth to and always underlies the sense,
such as it is, of the value of other men’s
lives. But in Europe to-day the sac red
ness of man’s life is thrown to the winds
the moment national or political passion
grows hot. Indeed, it is hard to under
stand the meaning of the word ‘sacred’
when applied to life, except iu so far as
it may signify the duty laid on each man
of using his life nobly while he has it.
The man who is ever ready to face death
for others’ sake, to save others from
grinding pain, has always been reckon
ed a hero; and what is heroic if done for
CAIITERSVILLE, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, 1865.
another is surely permissablc if done for
one’s self. The man who could volun
tarily give up his liie to save another
from months of slow torture would win
everybody’s good word. Why should
he be debarred from taking a like step
when the person to be rescued is himself ?
It is furthermore urged that the sacred
ness of life is violated by existing medi
cal practice, when in cases of extreme
and hopeless suffering physicians admin
ister drugs which give present relief at
the expense oi shortening tlie patients
life. If it is objected that submission to
tlie will of Providence torbids the short
ening of pain by taking life, by the same
principle we should submit to the will of
Providence, and not seek to escape an>
pain.”
Dr. Amick adds:
“Some approach death with a calm
countenance and a serene mind, others
are racked with pain and suffering. For
hours, and even days, they writhe and
groan between life and death. It is in
this class of cases in which it is propos
ed to give the hopeless sufferer respite
from his agony, and euthanasia is sug
gested. A hypodermic injection of mor
phia in such cases would result in gener
al and lasting sleep, and as the irritation
that existed in the body became lessened
the mind would gradually relax its hold
upon the system, and its departure would
lie so easy and quiet that a spectator
would scarcely recognize it was going
until it was gone. Euthanasia is recom
mended only in those cases where there
is a continual pain and agony; where
there is no chance for recovery and the
patient wishes to be freed from his
misery.
Several New York physicians w'ere
asked by a Sun reporter what they all
thought about the foregoing article.
They generally agreed that the princi
ples contained in it were sound and hu
mane. But when asked how tlie general
adoption of such ideas was likely to ope
rate in practice, they grew cautious and
thoughtful. One well known doctor
said:
“This matter of allowing a doctor to
kill a patient when, in his judgment, he
is destined to have a long and paintul
death struggle, is a very serious one.
The doctor’s judgment maybe at fault,
or the patient may, having an incurable
disease, simulate so intense a pain that a
weak doctor might consent to put him
out of his misery. What would the in
surance companies say to this? If Gen.
Grant asked for aa easy death from opi
ates, and thus a necessanly hastened one.
the public paid no regard .o the fact that
it was so arranged, because they had and
have perfect confidence in his physicians.
But suppose the practice to become gen
eral, do yoiFsuppose that serious errors
otdiagnosis would not be made? I cm
tell you of hundreds of cases where the
diagnosis of disease is directly contra
dicted by tlie autopsy, and where the
true nature of the complaint was not sus
pected even when the patient was in ex
tremis.”
Another physician thought that hu
manity required alleviation from pain,
even where life was shortened by the use
of sedatives. “But,” said he, “this is
true only in those cases where the result
will be death within a limited period,
and the very wisest judgment must be
used in the matter. Asa rule narcotic
drugs shorten life, and the fact that a
patient suffers pain does not in itself fur
nish an excuse for using them. As for
diieetly killing a man to save him from
suffering, the responsibility is, in my
opinion, too great for any single medical
nan to assume.”
An old practitioner related a case in
which a young Boston physician had
given a patient heavy doses ot opiates for
quieting and “shortening” a case of
painful and, as he believed, incurable
disease, and was surprised to find that
the patient got well. He lived for seven
years alter he had begged to be allowed
to died from euthanasia. “And the most
ciuious part of the matter,” said the doc
tor, “lay in the fact that the opiates
cured him. In so clear and carefully
treated a case as that of Gen. Grant eu
thanasia was perfectly proper, but in
more obscuie cases of disease, in the
hands of less eminent physicians, there
would be elements of danger.”
A physician of large general experience
said that s s x.y per cent, of the patients
who die while under the treatment of
able modern physicians are at the time of
death under the direct influence of nar
cotics or alcoholic stimulation. “Many
persons,” said he, “who would not give
their direct consent to the killing of a
sick friend, and it is killing, cannot find
it in their hearts to permit him to die in
agony; they know that the doctor is giv
ing the needed narcoties, and they ignore
the fact. To my mind the doctor would
neglect his duty did he fail to give the
sedatives called for in the case; if doctors
cannot cure a man they should make
death easy as soon as they are convinced
that the case is hopeless.”
Two of the doctors thought that the
practice of “effective stimulation,” as
they called the hastening of death by
narcotics, had grown so rapidly that
there was dauger that it might be used
without due consideration. They thought
the advice of at least two consulting phy
sicians of recognized ability should be
had before any course of nar-yitics de
signed to end in death should be entered
upon. They held that the practice was
already carried to its full limit, and
thought that the unquestioning attitude
of the public concerning the opeA stimu
lation of Gen. Grant, however proper it
may have been, would encourage doctors
of incautious or inconsequential habits to
go too far in the matter.
One of our oldest physicians thought
that one of the chief difficulties in the
practical use of euthanasia was to decide
where and how to limit it. “In the ar-
tide you have shown me,” said he, “a
requisite for the practice of anaesthesia
consists in the consent of the patient.
But suppose the patient to be an insane
person, who is about to experience long
and agonizing death. He is incapable
of assent or dissent. Would you, for
chat reason, deprive him of the benefits
of euthanasia ? And how long would it
be before your euthanasic principle
would be extended to the hopeless para
lytics who are, as your writer says, of
no use to others and a burden to them
selves? Would you kill them, also? And
where does tlie law come in ? If you
shorten a man’s life you kill him. lias
the doctor a right to kill a man any more
than you have? I have often felt it with
in my line of duty to give narcotics in
hopeless cases, while knowing that they
must necessarily and considerably short
en the life of my patient. 1 have often
asked myself how far I would be legally
responsible for doing so should I confess
the act. I have often thought, also, since
the practice of deathbed stimulation has
become so common and doctors so nu
merous, that cases might easily arise
where an unscrupulous physician would
be tempted to help a man rid himself
of ills wife—cr his mother-in-law.”
“What method would you propose,”
asked the reporter, “for keeping eutha
nasia within justifiable limits?”
“Oh, I dont know,” said the medical
man. “llow would it do to get two med
ical certificates stating the certain ap
proach of death and a judge’s permit to
kill a dying man with narcotics?”
Very Remarkable Recovery.
Mr. Geo. V. Willing, of Manchester,
Mich., writes “My wife has been almost
helpless for five years, so helpless that
she could not turn over in bed alone.
She used two bottles of Electric Bitters,
and is so much improved that she is able
now to do her own work.” Electric
Bitters will do all that is claimed for
them. Hundreds of testimonials will
attest their great curative powers. Only
fifty cents a bottle, at D. W. Curry’s. 2
CLAY AND CRITTENDEN.
A Philadelphian Tells of His Visit to the
Homes of the Two Distinguished Ken
tuckians.
Hon. Morton McMichael, of Philadel
phia, writes the following reminiscences
to one of the newspapers of that city:
The affection of Philadelphia for Henry
Clay was far more ardent than any man
since his day has inspired. When he vis
ited the city the place was agog, and day
or night crowds gathered wherever there
was a chance to get a glimpse of him. A
particularly memorable visit was made
in the early part of IS4B, when the de
monstration was most imposing. Over a
thousand gentlemen on horseback ac
companied Mr. Clay from the station to
his hotel, and wherever he passed the
streets were packed with uproarious ad
mirers and the windows filled with ladies
waving flags and handkerchiefs and de
monstrating in every way they could
their enthusiasm. Effort af.er effort was
made to take the horses from the carriage
and drag it by hand, but to that Mr.
Clay would not consent. A reception,
under mutual direction, was given the
following daj’ in Independence Hall,
and as ladies dared not venture into that
crush, a subsequent one for ladies at the
Chinese Museum, where some 5,000 of
the softer sex listened to a short speech
on “Women’s Real Rights” from their
favorite.
In that same Chinese museum a few
month later (June, ISIS), the Whig con
vention gave a death blow to Mr. Clay’s
well-founded hopes by nominating Gen.
Taylor to the Presidency. The hall was
a large one, very long in proportion to
width, with galleries. The seats of dele
gates filled the main floor, and the crowd
jammed the gallery and shouted tumultu
ously whenever Clay was named. But,
spite of a gal’anf struggle and immense
outside pressure, expedience and Gen.
Taylor triumphed over “Harry of the
West.” There was downright grief felt
in many a home that night, quite differ
ent from mere political chagrin. The
fact is, Henry Clay was not only a born
political leader, but he had that sympa
thetic nature which magnetically attracts
friends and can “grapple them to your
heart with hooks of steel.”
lifthe autumn of 1817 Mr. Clay deter
mined 'to arraign the administration of
Mr. Polk for the conduct of the Mexican
war in a set oration, which should at the
same time formulate his own opinions
and views for the coming Presidential
campaign. Partly, it may be, to talk
over the forthcoming speech, Mr. Clay
wrote a warm invitation to Mr. Mc-
Michael, of Philadelphia (my father), to
visit “Ashland.” It was my good for
tune to accompany him. There were no
such things as through trains forty years
ago, and the journey to Lexington was a
complicated one enough. We took steam
boat from Philadelphia down the Dela
ware to Newcastle, there got into a train
of old-fashioned English coach-cars,
which ran some sixteen miles to French
town, on an arm of the Chesapeak# Bay,
where we changed to a steamboat for
Baltimore. From Baltimore there was
rail to Cumberland, Md. At that point
we look “Concord” coaches with six
horse teams across the mountaias and to
Wheeling, Va. The ride over the national
road was delightful, and the drivers told
blood-curdling tales—mostly lies, no
doubt—of accidents and robbers. There
was no b übt, however, about the inter
est of meeting lines of Conestoga wagons
with flue teams, either stretched out in
Indian tile or in pairs, but always carry
ing bells, which jingled musically and
couid be heard afar off. These lumber
ing vehicles were used in 1847 and earlier
to transport, between waterways, a large
part of the produce coming East and the
merchandise going west, and the team
sters constituted quite a class. A much
less pleasant thing to meet, though it was
Ia pretty frequent experience, was a drove
of hogs, as the animals crowded the road
and were anything but savory, as they
slowly carried their own pork to market.
When we reached Wheeling we had to
wait some time for a good boat going
down to Cincinnati. A steamboat was
advertised to start at once, but kept de
laying trom time to time in hopes of get
ting more freight and passengers. Fi
nally the last bell did ring, and we
steamed down the river, very deliberately
but in comfortable quarters. At Cincin
nati we took another boat for Maysville,
Ivy., and thence completed the journey
to Lexington bj r stage wagons.
Mr. Clay’s pdaee, “Ashland,” near
Lexington, wasa thoroughly comfortable
home, but by no means a grand resi
dence. The house was moderately large
and well appointed without being at all
luxurious. The grove of trees about the
bouse was fine, and gave ample and de
lightful shade, and tlie outbuildings and
quarters were in excellent order. The
largest room on the first floor was the
library, which had that air of homeliness
only to be seen in rooms lived in by a
family—little indications of occupancy
by men, women and children. Besides
an ample supply of books and current
literature, thepe were many interesting
o v jeets and especially some mementoes
from the battle-field of Buena Vista,
where, only a few months before, Mr.
Clay’s son and namesake had been killed,
gallantly fighting. Adjoining the library
was the large dining-room. The apart
ments up-stairs were such as one met in
a gentleman’s countrv house a genera, ion
ago.
Mr. Clay was tall, rather spare, and
then carried his sixty-five years very
well, walking with rather a youthful
step, and hardly looking his age, spite of
his recent bereavement, which was a
great one to him. His appearance was
striking, and the most unobservant must
have been impressed with his fine head
and face. His forehead was very high,
his ey "S expressed courage and kindness
as well, and his large and mobile mouth
was capable of great expression and a
most winning smile. His voice was both
sonorous and sympathetic,land more than
once I have seen numbers of his auditors
affected to tears as well as wrought to
enthusiasm by his oratory. On the occa
sion of the great gathering on the market
place at Lexington, w’hen half Kentucky
seemed assembled, it was natural enough
that eloquent allusion to the brave young
Kentuckians who fell at Buena Vista
should move tlie listeners to tea r s, but I
saw the same effect produced on an audi
ence of strangers at Cape May.
Mr. Clay was a born leader of men, full
of confidence in himself, and, with abil
ity to back it, he never lost courage. His
manner was frank and cordial, but above
all courtly. In that characteristic way
lie was probably unequaled. As evidence
that his courtliness arose, as to be genu
ine it must, from true gentleness, I men
tion a personal incident. It happened
that Mr. McMichael and inyseJf arrived
at “Ashland” only a yery short time
before dinner, to which a considerable
number of Kentucky magnates had been
invited to meet him. Thinking it more
than likely that a boy of my years had
not been counted on at table, my father
suggested nre not going down, and so,
nothing loth to get off, I kept out of the
way until the party were seated and then
Had a fine time at the barn and quarters,
where the darkies professed decided ap
proval of late Philadelphia fashions, the
bare-footed little “nigs” especially ad
miring a pair of patent leather pumps.
I had hardly returned to the house when
dinner was over and the gentlemen came
into the library. The moment Mr. Clay
saw me sitting there he expressed pro
found mortification, said lie had been
most remiss to a guest, and had telt con
scious tkat one was missing at table, and
spite of all protestations insisted on tak
ing me to the dining-room, where he sat
while I was served, drank a glass of Ma
de s ra with me, and talked most charm
ingly—not down to a twelve-year level,
but about early Kentucky history and
some exploits of Gen. Leslie Coombs. A
long time alter, being present when Mr.
Clay was the “observed of all observers,”
he called me to him and putting his arm
about my shoulder, he said to those about
him: “I was once extremely remiss to
this young guest of mine, and wish to re
peat the apology I then made him.” His
auditors evidently thought his slight
oversight had already been amply atoned
for—quite surely his “young guest” did.
After enjoying the proverbial hospi
tality of Kentuckians at Lexington, Mr.
McMichael and myself went on to Frank
fort so see Mr. John J. Crittenden. His
home was on the well-shaded main street
of the town, a two-story double brick
house, which was and still is known as
the Crittenden mansion. The Senator’s
office was in his house, and he was just
as cordial as all the other Kentucky
Whigs. He was altogether a man of the
finest parts, and lived long enough to
be well known to his generation, whereas
his greater friend, Mr. Clay, dying early
in 1852, has become an historical charac
ter to most people. None who witnessed
it will ever forget tlie solemnity of the
scene when one night Henry Clay’s fu
neral cortege, escorted by many hundreds
of torch-bearers, wound its solemn way
through the streets of Philadelphia, the
city which loved him so well. It is no
Sgure of speech to say that there were
thousands of mourners, and hundreds of
men and women who wept as the coffin
was borne past.
Has your Child got the summer com
plaint? Set its liver straight anil it will get
well, anil don’t All its little stomach with
dregs when nature made innocent herbs for its
relief. Try Curry’s Diarrha-a and Dysentery
Specific and watch its smiles return and its
cheeks grow red once more.
Fruit Jars at panic prices, at
V. L. Williams & Cos.
HAL’S BABY.
It was a bleak December night and the
wind blew. Hal and I boarded the limi
ted express for New York at Chicago
and were enjoying a cigar in the smoker.
Hal had fallen asleep and I was busily
absorded in my own reflections,! glanced
casually and with little interest at the
scenes through which I was being rapidly
whirled. It was only when twilight
shut out visible objects and tlie lowering
clouds grew black I awakened to the
conciousness that it was night and that
Hal had been sleeping an hour.
“Come, old fellow,” I said, shaking
him, “wake up!”
“Hello!” he exclaimed, rousing him
self and looking a little stupid.
“Nice sociable chap for a companion, I
must say.”
“How long have I been asleep?” sit
ting upright and looking around him.
“About an hour, I should judge.”
“Well, between you and me, Will, I
needed it. I didn’t go to bed at all last
night; so much to be done, all at the last
moment.”
“That’s a fine excuse for you to give,”
I said, dryly. Hal laughed. Ho was
the best-natured chap in tlie world. A
big, strapping fellow, standing six feet
high, with merry blue eyes, clear-cut
features, and fair almost to womanliness,
lie was a great swell, too, and a univer
sal favorite.
“Abominable night,” he muttered, a
little irritably for him, “and confounded
ly cold, too. I had just about half
enough sleep, Will, and if you don’t mind
I’ll get to bed,”
“That suits me,” I replied. “1 am
witli you.”
We crossed the platform and stepped
into the other car. A gust of wind and
snow whizzed past as wo opened the
door, which called forth another grumb
ling imprecation from Hal relative to the
weather. Decidedly he was sleepy.
There were not many passengers on
board, and these the invariable travelers
one is sure to encounter. First came a
garrulous old gentleman, very thin, with
white hair, who occupied four seats and
essayed to read by uncertain light of the
railway lamp, which was of no more use
than those lamps unually are, and quite
as ornamental. Then came tlie commer
cial traveler, who was disposed to take
things as ho found them, and wore an
expression rather bland than otherwise.
A portly old lady with a bird-cage and
several bandboxes next attracted my at
tention. A spinster who sat upright in
a most rigid position, and an insipid miss
of 17 or thereabouts traveling in care of
the conductor, together with a short,
stout, thickset man of uncertain age and
occupation, made up the list of passen
gers. No, there was another; I had quite
overlooked him. lie came on the train
while we were in the smoker. A tall,
dark man of about 40 years, with a pale,
haggard face and hollow, sunken eyes.
His berth had been made up and he was
seated on one side of it, his head resting
on his hand, wnen Hal and I entered the
car. A shrill little voice which echoed
through the silent car caused every one
to turn round in the direction whence it
came.
“By all that’s unlucky,” groaned Hal,
“a baby.”
“Not a doubt of it,” I agreed.
“xlud good lungs it has, too,” he
went on, pettishly. “I wish it would be
quiet.”
But the baby hadn’t the slightest no
tion of this. To speak the truth, it had
not begun yet. The shrill cry continued
growing louder and louder; the passen
ger commenced staring hard at the berth
•nd harder at one another. The garru
lous old gentleman laid aside his maga
zine and remarked, sarcastically: “This
is pleasant.”
The portly lady opened her watery
eyes as wide as she could and exclaimed :
“Dear me!”
The spinistor wore an air of virtuous
triumph and said nothing. I dare say
she congratulated herself upon her lucky
escape. Tlie commercial traveler looked
wicked. Hal, lam say, swore
and tumbled into bed in no very enviable
frame of mind.
Presently every one sought his or her
resting-place, the lamps were lowered,
and the porter made himself as comforta
ble as the rules of the company would
permit. But through it all that baby
cried. The storm raging without was
mild in comparison with the storm rag
ing within.
“By Jove!” exclaimed Hal,* “ted is a
mockery. Of all the nuisances I ever
came in contact with this takes the palm.
What do the parents mean by letting it
scream like that? Why don’t they attend
properly to their business?”
At tills he opened the curtains, looked
out, and calling to me said:
“Will, the father has it, and he’s hold
ing it upside down.”
The tall, dark man was striding up and
down carrying, and most clumsily at that,
the child, who appeared to be about two
years old, and who beat him with her lit
tle fists and struggled to get on the floor,
all ‘he while crying lustily. The dark
gentleman was perfectly unmoved; he
paced the car in a mechanical way, pay
ing not the slightest heed either to the
baby or many uncharitable remarks he
could not fail to overhear. An hour
passed, and still the night was matte
hideous by those piercing screams.
“Thunderation!” roared Hal, “will
the little beggar never have done?”
Seemingly not, for at that very moment
she burst into fresh and more vigorous
cries.
“Pitch her out of tlie window,” sug
gested the stout gentleman.
“Do something,” murmured the com
mercial traveler.
“Let her cry; it’s likely to kill her,”
put in the spinster, complacently.
“In the name of heaven,” exclaimed
NUMBER 31.
Hal, springing out of bed in desperation
and intercepting the dark gentleman in
his march, “why don’t you giyo that
child to her mother? That is what she
wants. Give her to her mother and be
done with it.”
“Sir!” said the dark gentleman, stop
ping and speaking deliberately, “and
you all, ladies and gentlemen,” turning
and addressing the heads bobbing from
behind the curtains “I beg to apologize
for the disturbance my little one has
caused, and the great annoyance you
have been forced to endure. Believe me,
l would have done anything in my pow
der to prevent it. You” to Hal, “sug
gest I give h“r to her mother. Sir, her
mother is in the front ear in her coilin.
I must do the best I can.”
No one spoke a word, and every head
disappeared in bis or her curtain in a
trice. Hal stood dumbfounded tor a mo
ment, then drawing himself up and
speaking manfully said:
“I humbly beg your pardon. I ought
to be ashamed of myself, and so I am. Go
to bed and give this young lady to me.”
“But do you think you could ”
“I think so, if I tried.”
“Thank you. A little rest will be a
great boon.”
“Come here, miss,” said Hal, holding
out his arms. “Come along, or I’ll take
you anyhow.”
To this utter amazement the tiny hands
were immediately outstretched to him,
and with a little sigh the baby nestled
against his shoulder.
“By all that’s mysterious, Will, look at
this.”
Miss Baby’s arms were tight around
his neck, Miss Baby’s cheek was pressed
against his own. I saw Hal start, and
then he clasped the little creature closer
and kissed her dimpled hands and face,
and held her tenderly in his great strong
arms.
“Will, come and see her,” ho called,
.“she’s prettier than a picture.”
And when I crept out and stole a look
at the fairy there she lay asleep in all
her baby beauty with a sweet smile curv
ing her rosy lips, and her golden hair
falling in tangled curls over her little
flushed forehead.
“She is pretty,” I admitted.
“Pretty!” echoed Hal. “Well, I
should think so. Will, you may not be
lieve it, but I’d give a good round sum if
she belonged to me; I would, upon my
word.”
And when he looked up there was such
earnestness in his face I knew he meant
it.
ne held her so all night, scarcely
breathing lest lie should disturb her, and
when he parted with her in the morning
there was a tear glistening on baby’s
white hand, and I knew it was on the
one Hal had kissed last, before he gave
hc-r back to her father.
HIGH-PRICED CIGARS.
“For twenty-five cents eeh,” said the
proprietor of one of the largest cigar
stands on upper Broadway, “you can
buy as good a cigar as o_ne wants to
smoke. The difference in llavor between
that and one that costs one dollar is too
slight to be noticed almost.
“You can’t make a great many young
men believe that, though. I used to have
a wealthy young customer, who quar
reled with me once because I didn’t keep
cigars that sold for more than fifty cents
apiece.
“I told him I would order some for his
especial benefit. After he had gone I
took fifty of the twenty-live cents cigars,
wrapped them carefully in tin foil, and
put them in an old box with a tag stat
ing they cost $1 each.
“The next day he came in, and asked
me if I had filled his order.
“I told him that at great personal in
convenience I had done so, and then I
handed him out one of the one dollar
brand.
“He took five, and never could be in
duced to smoke any others.
“ ‘They cost a great deal,’ he used to
say, ‘but the flavor is so fine they are
more than worth it.’ ”
“I want a medium strong cigar,” said
an old gentleman who now entered the
store.
“Yes, sir,” responded the cigar man,
as he handed out a number of small ci
gars. The old gentleman laid down a
quarter on the counter and took six ci
gars.
“That isn’t the kind of a man who
pays a dollar for twenty-five cents ci
gars,” we said.
“No,” answered /‘He
leaves that sort of folly for his son.
He is the father of the rich young man.”
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