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JOSHUA JONES, PUBLISHER.
vol. ir.
Seasons.
What did springtime whisper?
Oh ye rivulets,
Waking from yo,ur trance so sad.
Pleased to welcome fisher lad
With his little nets,
Speed, for summer's in the air,
Prattle, for the breeze is warm,
Chatter by the otter’s lair,
Bubble past the ivied farm;
Wake the primrose on the banks,
Bid the violet ope her eyes,
Hurry in a llood of thanks
Underneath serener skies!
What a revel’s coming soon—*■
Fairies trooping o’er the leas,
Making magic by the moon.
Crowned with wood anemones i
What a haunted heart the thrush
Nurses in the blackthorn bush,
Full of splendid-songs to sing,
Cheery welcomes of the spring—
Spring has come!
—Norman Gale.
ROSE’S DIARY.
BY EMILY G. W. UOWE.
. •
June 30, 1832—Little brown diary
do you kno’- that’toduy is my birth¬
day- ? I am oix f e 9 n today, I can
hardly realize that I am growing old
so fast. This morning, when I threw
open my shutters and the sweet June
sunshine and tjie breath of roses came
pouring in, I thought to myself how
good it was to live, and how glad T
was that I was born in June, ond that
my name is Rose. Bose Meredith!
It’s a pretty name, isn’t it, diary
dear ? I wonder if I shall always
keep it just so.
. This morning, when I went down to
breakfast, little mother met me with
a birthday kiss and a beautifully
bound copy of “Milton’s Poems.” My
father’s gift, a gold thimble, marked
“Bose,” I found under my napkin.
Bess gave me a dear little apron
tpimmed in lace, and after breakfast
Kate Owen came across the lawn with
a huge bunch of the loveliest creamiest
fragrant roses—just sixteen, one for
each year. Then Madame Carew
came, and I had to take my music
lesson. After dinner, mamma, Bess
and I drove to Hatfield and got' back
just at tea time. Tea in honor of the
day was served in the arbor, and after
it was over our neighbors, Kate and
Harry Owen, with a young college
friend of Harry’s, Frederick Murchi¬
son, came over, and we spent a very
pleasant evening with music and talk
ing. What a happy, happy day it has
been, little diary. You just don’t
know.
December 15, 1834—How can I
write through my tears ? My sister
iBess is dead—my lovely, brown-eyed
sister, so beautiful in her youug wom¬
anhood. Only twenty-one—and she
was three years older than I—and al¬
ways such a dear, loving elder sister
to me. We buried her today in the
hard, cold, frozen earth, and tonight
the snow is falling silently and steadily
upon her grave.
Mother mourns in her own room
and refuses all comfort. She cannot
forget that her first born is sleeping
under a blanket of snow.
It seems as if I were all alone. Bess
and I have always been so much to
one another. Harry Owen is quite
broken down with grief. They were
to have been married in tho spring,
but Bessie, my dear and only sister,
will never, never wear her bridal
robes. It almost seems as if, through
all space, she must hear my voice call¬
ing her to come back to me.
June 30, 1837—Constance, Switzer¬
land. Once more it is the anniver¬
sary of my birth. At home the June
roses are all a^bloom but there is only
the June moonlight, the June silence,
and in my heart the June peaee.
“The world is in June, and it ripples in
rhyme,
June, June, sweet heart of life,
And own darling of Time.”
It is the happiest night of my life,
little diary. Shall I tell you why? It
i is only the old, old story—old, yet to
THE WILL OF THE PEOPLE 18 THE SUPREME LAW.
FORT GAINES, GA •4 FRIDAY. MAY L 1890.
me now and inexpressibly sweet Iniko
Constance is a glittering shoot of sil
ver. I shall romembor it so forovor
and always, with tho moonlight upon
the distant mountain tops.
Twenty-olio to-day. Just the same
age as our Bess was when she loft us
for a sunnier land than this. Dear,
dear Bess! Was sheas happy in her
love, I wonder, as I am tonight? But
I must write tho connected history of
it, mustn’t I, diary carissima? I’ve
neglected you most mercilessly of late,
but then you know well, little book—
you do know well, don’t you? Two
years since mamma and I came abroad
—poor, poor mamma,patient and gen¬
tle always in spite of her suffering.
The doctor thinks she is improving,
and it has seemed to me that in the
past few weeks she has been stronger
and more like herself than at any time
since Bessie died. The climato hero
is building her wonderfully. * It
up
was while we were at Berlin that we
met Mr. Murchison, who was a class¬
mate of Harry Owen’s. He remem¬
bered having spent an evening at our
house with Kate and Harry sovoral
years ago, just before they were grad¬
uated.
He has been so kind to us in many
ways. I cannot tell ytfu all, diary; it
would take too long—altogether too
long; but he was with us in most of
our rambles through Germnny, and
had to l^ave us when we concluded to
stay in Dresden awhile. Ho had to
return to Berlin on business. That
was six weeks back, and only ten days
ago we came on to this dear old inn
on Lake Constance. The days have
seemed so long to me of late, and I
have often wondered why. To-night
I know. It wa3 because—well, diary,
he came to-day, and everything is
bright again.
To-night, while mamma slept, Kat¬
rine sat with her, and we two walked
upon the shore. It was a perfect
night. Nothing but still,intense light
upon the surface of the water, a silver
haze upon the mountain peaks, and
shadows here and there upon the
slopes. Beneath the arching trees we
walked, and oh, there was so much to
tell, so many little instances to relate
that had occurred since we parted at
Dresden. Suddenly a silence fell be¬
tween us, and for a long time we
walked slowly on, with hand clasped
close in hand, beside the shining
water. It was so solemn, diary dear.
There was such a June intensity about
us. It was the time and place for a
betrothal.
At last he spoke to me; but what he
said to, little diary, I cannot even
write upon your pure white pages.
“I’ll love him more, more
Than e’er wife loved bofore,
Be the days dark or bright.”
September 10, 1841.—How fast time
flies to bo sure ! Mamma has been
spending a week with me, and today
we took a long drive through the
country lanes, where the feathery
plumes of the golden-rod wave beside
the fences. It hardly seems as if it
can be September ! Mamrna goes to¬
morrow. The dear woman ! I shall
miss her so much. It seems as if the
only blot upon my otherwise happy
life is the fact that she cannot always
be near me. Today she said to me:
“Rose,you ought to be the happiest
woman in the world, with your lovely
home, perfect liberty, and such a
good husband.”
And I am happy. During the three
years that have rolled by so fast since
the June day when Fred and I were
marr ieefamong the roses, life has been
too happy for mp. I fear this utter
peace, this unchanging serenity can¬
not always last. Will the clouds be
heavier when they do come in con¬
trast with this beautiful sunlight ? I
am afraid I am a trifle depressed to¬
night, so had better lay my pen away,
until I can inscribe more cheerful
sentiments upon your pages, little
diary.
April 15, IS HI How tho rain pours
down 1 All day loug, unceasingly, it
has rained and rained. Fred is in
Boston, and it is hardly time for his
traiu to bo duo, so I will spend tho
time that must clapso boforo his re¬
turn with you, my littlo brown vol¬
ume, that for so many years has boon
my confidant. It will not be long
now until my thirtieth birthday. It
doesn’t seem possiblo, does it? Somo
way, I am louoly touight It has boon
such a loug, dreary day, and tho mo¬
ments now nro longer and drearier.
Littlo Bossio lies fast aslesp in hor
crib. The darling 1 Tho falling rain
cannot disturb her sweet, quiet slum¬
ber. How it dasbos against tho win¬
dow! It is time that Fred was hero.
Hark! I hoar his step. Good-nigh*
diary.
July 3, I860.—Only a few days ago
I was fifty days old. I scorn so old,
so old. I am all alone in the world,
alone, save Bess, mv bonny, brown
eyed daughter, who is the very picture
aiid just tho ago of tho dear Aunt
Bess, who died so many years ago.
How strange life seems to look back
upon! Just throe years ago today
my husdaud fell at Gettysburg. I
cannot boar to think of it—how, at
the sunset hour, when God’s world
should have been at peace, that
mighty struggle ensued; and ho—ah,
I thought by this time I should bo
able to Write calmly of it, but I must
close my book.
Juno 30, 1880 Feebly do my fin
gers hold tho pen, and for tho last
time, ere I close tho covers of this
little brown diary forever, will I writo
upon its pages. I feel that it is for
the last time. Seventy years today!
The days, the weeks, tho months, tho
years have given me the alloted time,
My work is done. I await only tho
summons. All day my mind ha H
wandered over the free, happy hours
of my girlhood; I havo lived them
again. My sister Bess—I shall see
her soon ; my joyous youth—gono for
ever; that happy night upon the shore
of Luke Constance, it is a blissful
memory; tho years we two spent to
gethor ; how precious each moment
seems; the long long months sinco wo
havo parted; we shall meet soon—to
“part, no, never.” It grows dark. I
can write no more. I smell the old
fragrance of the Juno roses, and am
weary with memories, littlo diary. —
Home Queen.
Mowers Used Food. I
as
Although it is well known that many
kinds of flowers are used in medicine,
tho fact may not be known to mauy
that blossoms of certain plants are em
ployed as food. In many part* of
India tho flowers of a saponaceous
tree, bassia lutifoiia, or rnahwah,form
really important articles of food. In
These blossoms, which are succulent
and very numerous, fall at night in
large quantities from the tree, and aro
gathered early in the morning ancl
eaten raw. They have a sweet but
sickly taste and odor. They are like
wise dried in the sun and sold at
bazaars.
The Bheels dry them and store them
as a staple article of food, and so im¬
portant are they considered for this
purpose that when, in expeditions for
punishment or subjection of these
tribes, when unruly, a threat is made
by the invading force to cut down
their bassia trees, the menance most
commonly insures their submission.
An ardent spirit is distilled from these
flowers both raw and cooked, and;
often with the addition of grain, and ;
also make sweetmeats of them. A sin
gle tree will afford from 200 to 400 j
pounds of the flowers.—Current Lit- j
erature.
In the Maine shipyards laBt year
sixty-three vessels, aggregating 13,-
116 tons, were built.
1 Old Rending Hoards.
What are “Heading boards?” Not
many pooplo know. Two of thorn
were recently found near hero.
A century or two ago books were
much scarcor than now. School books
wore not given to children, but they
were taught from reading-boards. Our
grandfathers and grandmothers and
I their progenitors learned to read from
[ these boards, and they got in the same
wuy their first lessons in history and
, na tural science,
Thero aro a couplo of these queer
old boards among tho curiosities at
Erasmus hall, Flatbush. They arc of
pine and about twelve inches by nine
When found recently papers woro
pasted upon thorn containing tho daily
or weekly lesson. They used to bo
hung up in front of tho whole class,
and from these tho toaclior gave hor
pupils their lesson.
! Tha two board9 aro numbered
01 « bt y ancl eighty-one, and eighty-six
and eigbty-sevou on their respective
Bules - Th ^ aro 8 P ht and wor,Q -
eaton ’ thoir war P ed aml « taiuod
»PPe»runoe shows their extreme age.
^ bo tdd co,ds still hung from tbo top
cncb ’
Board eighty shows tho old English
: lettering and also tho curious confu¬
sion in the contemporary mind l>o
I tween corn and wheat.
“This is a grain of corn. This is
an car of corn. What grows upon a
i siuglo stalk is called an ear.
“This bundle of corn is called a
sheaf *
j T^hin ig a Hbook , There ar0 ranuy
sheaves in a shock.
“When corn is ground it is called
flour. ”
Erasmus hall, where they woro found,
has been an educational institution for
ovor a hundred years. It numbers
among its ancient curios some old
Dutch tiles,containing Biblical scenes,
Absalom caught by tho hair, Esau and
Jacob and all tho patriarchs are hero
faithfully represented, all in original
, Dutch costumes.—New York Journal,
j
A Peep at Trinidad.
Even the huts along tho road are
transfigured and glorified by the wealth
J v f foliago that Hedges softens and eurichos all
, it touches. of crotons, six
feet high, with leaves of gold and
( and mottled of hibis
: orange green ; or
cus, rod and white, whoso flowers
would measure four and fivo inches
across tho centre, grow in front of
cabins thut, in themselves, would be
a blot on tho plainest landscape ever
eye behold. But behind such a hedge
and covered with somo brilliant vino,
one forgets tho shahbinoss of the
meanest hovel, since nature has con
coaled it with such a gracious hand,
And what a background 1 Orange
trees, limes, cashews, tamarinds, cacao
trees, pawpaws, bread-fruit, mangoes,
calabash and others whose names I
know not, brilliant with fruit of every !
shade and color, from green to red
and gorgeous yellow, vie with each
other in claiming precedence for them
selves in the marvelous display which
meets tho eye. In the littlo patches
of garden, the loug, splendid leaves
of the plantain and banana almost hide
the flowers of every hue thut form so
strong a contrast to the ever-present
green; while, amid a hundred un¬
known perfumes, one may detect that
of the odorous Capo jasmine hanging
heavy in the air. Tho eyo becomes
bewildered amidst such luxurious
abundance, and can only take in a
fraction of what it sees.—Outing.
A Glorious Victory.
Subordinate—Sir, we have success
f^Hy landed 35,000 reinforcements,
Spanish General—In spite of the in¬
eurgents?
“fn spite of them, sir—not amanat,
the wharf to oppose us.”
Bravo ! Good l Another victory!
Ah, this is glorious 1”—Cleveland
Plain Dealer.
ONE DOLLAR PSR AHNUi-
NO. 1,7.
ITow Camphor Is Mniln.
One of the principal products of the
territory which has como under
Japanese administration as a result of
the war with China, is camphor.
Small shanties aro scattered over the
hills where the camphor trees grow,
and in all directions tho clearing of
the woods is going on at a rapid rate
On tho hillsides aro built distilleries,
consisting of oblong-shaped structures
principally of mud bricks, and about
ton or twelve feet long, six feet
broad and four feet high.
“ On each side there aro five to ten
tiro holes about a foot apart and the
snmo distanco abovo tho ground. On
each firo hole is placed an earthorn
pot full of water, and abovo it a cyl¬
indrical tube, about a foot in diame¬
ter and two feet high, passes up
through tho structure and appears
above it.
Tho tube is cupped by a largo in¬
verted jar, with a packing of damp
hemp between tho jar and tho
cylinder to prevent tho escape of
steam. .Tho cylinder is filled with
chips of wood about tho size of the
little finger, which rests on a per¬
forated lid covering the jar of water,
so that when tho steam rises it passes
up to the inverted jar, or condenser,
absorbing certain resinous mattor
from the wood on its way.
Whilo distillation is going on an es¬
sential oil is produced and is found
mixed with the water on the inside of
tho jar. When tho jar is removed,
the boady drops solidify, chrvataliza
tion commences and camphor in a
crude form, looking like newly-formed
snow, is detached by the hatfds,placed
in baskets lined with plantan leaves
and hurried off to tho. nearest border
town for sale.
With regard to camphor as in ether
commercial matters, tho Chinese gov¬
ernment has acted very foolishly. For
ovor thirty years there has been a
constant demand for cuinplior, and
yet tho administration has done noth¬
ing to prevent tho reckless waste of
the forests and taken no steps to pro
vide for tho reafforestation of unin¬
habited tracts useless for cultivation.
Scottish Geographical Magazine.
Saved by His Elephant,
“I had an elephant on my hands
once,” said tho old showmun, and ho
saved my life,my credit uud my honor.
But for him I would havo starved to
death; but for hirn I would have been
unable to pay the salaries of my art¬
ists ; but for him I would havo been
incarcerated in tho Cheyenne jail.
My show was stranded thero and I
didn’t know what on earth to do. I
stood at tho desk of the hotel arguing
about my bill when a young man
beckoned rno aside, ‘I understand
the situation,’ ho said. Wo can fix
i<; U P ia “ J° 11 wil1 let me
I ,ain * ; a sign on your elephant and
give me a guarantee to keep it thero
for a year I will pay all your bills
here, give you money to get out of
town and send you a check for $50
every week while the tour lasts. I
jumped at tho offer. That very night
we had the elephant painted from
toenail to trunk with a tobacco sign,
and tho next morning we got ont of
towD. I kept up my end of the
contract for six months and he kept
up his. His name was Theodora
Marburg of Baltimore. He said that
the elephant sold $100,000 worth of
tobacco. ”—Now York Press.
Not to Be Bluffed.
Chronic Deadbroke —Could you
lend me a ten, Charlie?
’ Charlie—Ten cents. Certainly.
C. D.—That’s what I mean.—De¬
troit Free Press.
. Theban mummies have been found
which give proof that, in the days of
the Pharoahs there were dentists who
filled decayed teeth with gold.