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ONE OF THE “JINEHS.”
4 •— ' *
A Woman W bo l Mhv Had Juki
(.rwiimla Tor a IMtiircr,
Manchuter (2V. II) Mirrur,
She was about forty-five years old.
well-dressed, had black hair, rather thin
and tinged with gray, and eyes iu which
gleamed the fires of a determination
no\ to be easily balked. She walked
into Major House's office, and request
ed a private interview, and having ob
tained it, and satisfied herself that the
law students were not listening at a
key-hole, said slowly, solemnly and im
pressively :
“I want a divorce.”
“What for? I supposed you had
one of the best of husbands,” said the
Major.
“I s'po3e that’s what everybody
thinks, but if they knew what I’ve suf
fered in ten years they’d wonder I had
not scalded him long ago, I ought to,
but for the sake of the young ones I’ve
borne it and said nothing. I’ve told
him, though what he might depend on,
and now the time's come. I won’t
stand it, young ones or no young ones ;
I'll have a divorce, and if the neigh
bors want to blab themselves hoarse
about it they can, for I won’t stand it
another day.”
“ liut what's the matter ? Don’t
your husband provide for you? Isn’t
he true to you? Don’t he treat you
kindly?” pursued the lawyer.
“ We get victuals enough, and I don’t
know but he's as true and kind as men
in general, and lie's never knocked
any of us down. I wish he had, then
I’d get him into jail and know where he
was nights,” retorted the woman.
“Then what’s your complaint against
him ?"
“Well, if you must know, lie’s one
of these plaguey jiners.”
“ A what?”
“Ajiner—one of them pesky fools
that’s aiwaj-s jinin' something. There
cau’t nothing come along that's dark
and sly and hidden, but he’ll jine it.
If anybody should get up a society to
burn his house down, he’d jine it just
as soon as hejcoulTl get in, and if they
had to pay to get in, he’d go all the
suddener. We hadn’t been married
inore'n two months before he jined the
Know Nothin’s. We lived on a farm
then, and every Saturday night he'd
come tearin in before supper, grab a
fistful of nut-cakes, and go off knawin’
’em, and that's the last I’d see of him
till morning. And every other night
he’d roll and tumble in his sleep, and
holler, “ Put none but Americans on
guard—George Washington and on
rainy days he’d go out into the corn
barn and jab at a picture of the Pope
with an old Bagnet that was there. 1
ought to put my foot down then ; but
he fooled me so with his lies about the
Pope’s coming soon to make all Yan
kee girls marry Irishmen, and to eat
up all the babies that warn’t born with
a cross on their foreheads, and I let
him go on, aad encouraged him in it.
“Then he jined the Masons. Per
haps you know what them be, but I
don’t ’cept they think they're the same
kind of critters that built Solomon’s
Temple, and took care of his concu
bines ; and of all the darned nonsense
and gab about worshipful mas and
squares and compasses and sich, that
we had in the house for the next six
months, you never see the beat. And
lie’s never outgrowed it nutlier. What
do you think of a man, Squire, that’ll
dress hisselfin a white apron, ’bout big
enough for a monkey's bib, and go
marching up and down, and making mo
tions and talking the foolishest lingo at
a picture of George Washington in a
green jacket, and a truss on his stom
ach? Ain’t he a loonytick? Well,
that’s my Sam. and I've stood it as
long as I’m going to.
“ The next lunge the fool made was
into the Odd Fellows. I made it warm
for him when he came home and told
me he’d jined them ; but he kinder pac
ified me by telling me that they had a
sort of branch show that took in wo
men, and he’d get me in as soon as
he found out how’ to do it. 44 ell, one
night he came home and said I’d been
black-balled. Did it himself, of course.
Didn’t want me round knowing to his
goings on. Of course he didn’t, and I
told him so.
“Then he jined the Sons of Malter.
Didn’t say a word to me about it, but
sneaked off one night, pretendin' he’d
got to set up with a sick Odd bellow ;
and I’d never found it out, only he
came home looking like a man that had
been through a threshing machine, and
I wouldn’t do a thing for him till he
owned up. And so it’s gone from bad
to wii9, and from wus to wusser, jinin
this and that and t’other, till he’s Wor-
The Hartwell Hun.
By BENSON & McGILL.
VOL. IV—NO. 46.
ship Minister of the Masons, and God
dess of Hope of the Odd Fellows, and
Sword Swallower of the Fannigans,
and Virgin Cerus of the Grange, and
Grand Mogul of the Sons of Indolence,
and Two-Edged Tomahawk of the
United Order *f Black Men, and Tale-
Bearer of the Merciful Manikins, and
Skipper of the Guild of Caratrine Co
lumbus, and Big Wizzard of the Ara
bian Knights, and Pledge-Passer of the
Reform Club, and Chief Bulger $f the
Irish Machinists, and Purse-Keeper of
the Order of Canadian Conscience, and
Double-Barreled Dictator of the Knights
of the Brass Circles, and Standard-
Bearer of the Royal Archangels, and
Sublime Porte of the Onion League,
and Chambermaid of the Celestial Che
rubs, and Puissian Potentate of the
Petrified Pig-Stickers, and the Lord
only knows what else. I’ve borne it
and borne it, hopin’ he’d get ’em all
jined after a while, but ’tain’t no use;
and when he’d got into anew one and
been made Grand Guide of the Knights
of Ilorror, 1 told him I’d quit; and I
will.” ,
Here the Major interrupted her, sa}’-
ing:
“ Well, your husband is pretty well
initiated, that’s a fact; but the Court
will hardly call that good cause for a
divorce. The most of the societies you
mention arc composed of honorable
men, and have excellent reputations.
Many of them, though called lodges,
are relief associations and mutual in
surance companies, which, if your hus
band should die, would take care of
vou and would not see you suffer if you
were sick.”
“ See me suffer when Im sick ! Take
care of me when he’s’dead! Well, I
guess not. I can take care of myself
when lie's dead, and, if I can't I can
get another. There’s plenty of ’em.
And they needn’t bother themselves
when I'm sick, either. If I want to
be sick and suffer it’s none of their
business, especially after the suffering
I’ve had when I ain’t sick because of
their carryings on. And you needn’t
try and make me believe it's all right,
either. I know what it is to live with
a man that jines so many lodges that
he don’t never lodge at home, and
signs his name, ‘Yours truly, Sam
Smith, M. M., I. O. O. F., K. O. 8.,
Iv. of P„ P. of 11., R. A. 11. I. I. P.,
K. of X., N. €., L. E. TANARUS., 11. E. R., R.
I. P., X. Y. Z.. etc.’ ”
“Oh, that's harmless amusement,”
remarked Mr. House.
She looked him square in the eye
and said : “ I believe you are a jiner
yourself.”
lie admitted that he was to a certain
extent, and she rose and said, “ I
wouldn't have thought it. A man like
you. chairman of a Sabbath School and
superintendent of the Republicans!
It’s enough to make a woman take poi
son. But I don't want anything to do
of you. I want a lawyer who don’t be
long to nobody nor nothin’, and she
bolted out of the office.
The Cork Leg.
Modern science has brought the cork
leg to a state of perfection which ren
ders it almost impossible for the casual
observer to detect the difference between
the real and artificial. There was an
eminent sergeant-at-law some years ago
who had a cork leg that was a triumph
of artistic deception.
None but his intimates knew for cer
tain which was the real and which was
the sham limb. A wild young Wag of
the “utter bar,” who knew the sergeant
pretty well, once thought to utilize this
knowledge of the sergeant’s secret to
take in a newly-fledged young barrister.
The sergeant was addressing a special
jury at Westminster in his usual ear
nest aud vehement style, and the wag
whispered to his neighbor, “You see how
hot old Buzfuz is over his case ; now. I
will bet you a sovereign I’ll run this
pin into his leg slap up to the
head, and he will never even no
tice it, he’s so absorbed in his case. He
is a most extraordinary man in that
way.” This was more than the green
horn could swallow, so he took the bet.
The wag drew a large .pin from his coat,
and leaning forward drove it up to the
head in the sergeant’s leg. A yell that
froze the blood of all heard it, that
HARTWELL, GA., WEDNESDAY. JULY 14, 1880.
made the fiair ol' the jury stand on end
and caused the Judge's wig almost to
fallofT, ran through the court. “By
Jove! it’s the wrong leg, and I’ve lost
my money,” exclaimed the dismayed
•ml conscience-stricken wag, quite re
gardless of the pain he had inflicted
upon tffe learned sergeant.
THE GOLL)*SEEKERS.
T , •- .
A Morj tl- Ilia Horn and Vi llon
■lone Itasin.
The Denver News lias the following
story of adventure in the mountains,
by a party of treasure seekers :
The morning of the 10th of June had
risen clear and bright, but the sun
shone upon a camp in confusion ; men
in groups in the little corral, their eyes
scanning engcrlv the mountain sides—
the June sun shining hot and sultry on
their heads—their brown and rugged
faces wore an expression of intense so
licitude. They were surrounded by In
dians.
For three days they had been besieg
ed almost in sight of the promised land,
but no effort they could now make
would ever enable them to reach it.
Two weeks previously they had en
countered hostile savages slowly dog
ging their steps and making vain ef
forts to pick up stragglers. One by
one the white men had abandoned their
horses and wagons, until now only
| three vehicles and teams were left,
j They resolved to retreat in a body.
| They had 500 miles to travel through
a hostile country, and with the inevita
ble prospect of fighting over every foot
!ofthe way.
There were but eighty-six men left
of the expedition as they started home
ward that hot June morning. Form
ing into a hollow square two deep, they
commenced their fatal journey. Tue
Indians kept ont of rifle range, bulf in
I sight, hovering upon the flanks and
rear of the little band. Every few min
utes they would fire a volley and then
dash away. The missiles fell short of
their mark, and the white men, firm in
the knowledge that the\ r had neither a
bullet or grain of powder to throw
away, moved on in sullen silence. It
was only at nightfall or early in the
morning that the Indian attack was to
be dreaded. They knew this and pre
pared for it.
Following tlie low dip of a valley
northwest from the forks of Powder
River, they hoped to cross the interven
ing range of the Big Horn River and
follow down it to its junction with the
Yellowstone. They were then about
200 miles northwest from Fort Kear
ney and nearly the same distance from
old Fort Sarpy. The military trail
from Fetterman to Fort Smith led per
haps fifty miles to the east of them.
But a thousand soldiers in either place
could have rendered them no aid.
Their hopes of life and rescue lay- in
themselves alone. They knew this
and indulged in no vain wishes.
As soon as they moved out of their
camp the Indian took possession of it.
There were savages in their rear—sav
ages in front of them—the mountain
peaks and intervening foothills swarm
ed with Indians. What could they do
but go on ? They had left the river,
and the valley they pursued was water
less. The sun rose higher in the heav
ens and biazed upon their treeless path
with unsupported heat. Ever and
anon a hot wind swept from the south
dense with alkali. Every moment in
creased the torment of our thirst. At
nightfall they went into camp on the
banks of a little stream that broke
from a southern spur of the Big Horn.
Their first day’s march had been with
out incident. They saw no game, and
anew danger menaced them. Not un
til two days afterward, .however, when
their last mouthful of provisions were
exhausted, did they fully realize its
terror. The'lndians were driving the
game out of range.
The fourth day of their journey was
commenced without food, up the moun
tain side. There was water in abun-
eance, but nothing to eat; and half
way to the summit of a long ascent,
Charley Reed, the youngest of their
band —a boy in years, for he was not
jnore than 20—sunk exhausted. They
constructed a rude litter and by turns
Devoted to Hart County.
carried him forward. But exhaustion
merged Into fever, and at noon he was
raving in delirium. On the bleak
summit of that treeless waste there
was no shade to shelter him, and they
longed for night. But, alas! its friend
ly mantle stretched three other help
less men upon the grass. Only the
stoutest could endure tiie battle with
hunger and fatigue. For thirty-six
hours they had lieon without food,
when in the gray dawn of the morning
they their fifth day’s journey.
They were now descending the Big
Horn range, and hoped to reach the
valley before the set of the sun. Un
consciously in their haste, the litters
fell behind, and while winding out of a
gorge their savage foes swooped down
on them dividing their line and captur
ing the sick and their attendants—
twenty-six men iu all. In the vain at
tempt to rescue four more were killed.
All night the little band hung upon the
mountain side and fought for life. The
Indians yelled and whooped around
them; and down the gorge a mile away
a bright fire blazed upon the pines and
cast its glare upon the mountain sides.
Through the darkness came shouts of
savage revelry, and at intervals were
cries and screams of pain. On the
bronzed and gaunt faces of these hun
gry men looking with horror upon the
flutter of that deathly flame in the wil
derness. was nn anguish no words can
portray. They knew it was the torture
of the stake. The victims were their
hapless comrades. But what could
they do ? To-morrow the same fate
might be theirs. But the Indians fell
back before the tottering line that ad
vanced the next morning, and they
reached the valley in safety.
Providence, or good luck, threw in
their way a little herd of antelope.
Threq were killed. Heavens! how
wild are starving men 1 They Swarm
ed around the carcasses and tore off
the limbs. Home devoured the warm,
palpitating flesh, some scooped up
handfuls of blood and drank it eagerly
—none thought to kindle a firo until
the rage of famine was appeased.
Then there was nothing left to cook.
But in the midst of their ravenous fury
a volley of shots swept through them ;
two men fell dead and three were
wounded fatally. They died before
night.
These fatal shots restored order as
no words of command could have done.
Quick almost as thought the volley was
returned, and every man lent ready
obedience to the stern, imperative
words of the leader. The Indians fell
hack, and with many a reluctant and
regretful look at the remains of their
meagre breakfast the decimated band
resumed their weary march. But the
terrible fate which befell their captured
comrades made those who were left en
ter upon a fearful resolve. Their
wounded, if they could not be carried
on, should be killed and all knew it
was impossible now to burden the liv
ing with the helpless. The meager,
gaunt skeletons that were left looked
into each others eyes, and with stern
set, determined faces, swore each to
the other, their covenant of death. Nor
was it long before they were called on
to execute their compact. As the long
shadows which redden in the twilight
began to fall, a shot rang out on the
mountain side and a comrade fell. It
was the shot of a scout and no others
followed it. Silently the little band
<rathered around the wounded man. A
hundred feet below the gurgle of a
stream lent its laughing music to the
summer air. They carried him to the
brink and laved his face and hands,
and then pitched their camp for the
night. It was a desolate bivouac, for
no sleep was to visit weary eyelids, no
rest to tired bodies. All knew and
dreaded the tragedy which was
to come with the morning. But no lips
revealed it. The brain might conceive,
but no heart had the courage to talk of
it. And ao the night passed, and when
the sun began to flush the mountain
tops, the men looked into each other's
faces with scared and restless glances.
Over the stern features of their leader
had swept an ashen pallor. His face
had never blauched before, why should
it now have turned so gray? Twice he
looked toward the wounded man, and
$1.50 Per Annum.
WHOLE NO. m.
twice he turned away. Twice his lips
essayed to speak but they gave no sound.
Then by an almost superhuman effort,
he spoke:
“Jim, it is time to go, and wc can’t
carry you with us.”
It was an utterance scarcely above a
whisper, but it jarred on t tot'senses of
the listening men like a clash of thuu
dor.
The wounded man looked up, a smile
on his lips and a flush of light iu his
undaunted eye.
“ I know it. Put a bullet through
my brain. But don’t leave me alive to
the Indians.”
The leader turned away. The men
gathered around him in hasty com-ulta
tion. Then each went buck to say good
bye. Tears streamed down bronzed
and rugged faces. Gaunt forms bent
lovingly for a last caress. Scared and
horny hands touched with plaintive
pity the face of their stricken comrade.
Then they gathered in a group at his
side. A moment of deathless silence—
a shot thrilled upon the nir—a quiver
ing trunk, a dead body, lay before
them. A hastily improvised grave, and
they left him alone, with do requiem
save the wild wind's shriek and the cat
aract’s roar.
flow It Was Fixed.
Detroit Free I*renn t
A stranger, bearing that seedy, rusty
outline which fastens to a man who lives
on free lunches and sleeps under stair
ways, walked boldly into a Woodward
avenue store the other day and asked
for the proprietor. After some remarks
about the weather, politics, etc., lie
stated :
“ 1 am obliged to acknowledge that I
urn somewhat embarrassed. If I could
secure a loan of S2O of you until I get
to Cincinnati I would then forward you
my check and be greatly obliged.”
“ But I don’t know you,” replied the
merchant.
“Ah ! beg u thousand pardons. You
will please favor me with a pencil."
He took the pencil and wrote on a
sheet of w rapping paper (he name : “S.
Mortimer, Montgomery.”
“ Are you in business there?”
“ Not just uow. I am at present
winding up an estate." He was inform
ed after a little further discussion, that
he must apply elsewhere. He bowed
himself out, but returned in half an hour
and -aid:
“Pardon my intrusion. As you do
not feel like lending me any money,
perhaps you wouldn’t object to giving
me a line stating that you would stand
security for my board for a week.”
The merchant gave him to under
stand that he did object, and the stranger
retired in good order. Directly after
dinner lie came again,and lie seemed in
better spirits.
“Everything is all fixed to ottr mutual
satisfaction,” he explained. “They saw
me come here from the hotel, and have
discovered from the resemblance be
tween us that we are brothers. All you
have got to do is to favor the delusion,
and I'll be all right.”
The merchant looked at him without
power to speak for a moment, and in this
interval the stranger said :
“You might do one little turn for me.
You wear a mustache and 1 don’t. If
you’d only have yours shaved off it'd
bring our looks closer together and wc
might [mss for twins. Good-day—ev
erything is beautifully fixed."
A promising youth recently surprised
his father by asking—“ Father, do yon
like mother ?” “ Why, yes, of course.”
“And she likes you?” “Of course
she does.” “ Did she ever say so ?”
“Many a time, my son.” “Did she
marry you because she loved you?”
“ Certainly she did.” The boy care
fully scrutinized his parent, and, after
a long pause, asked—“ Well, was she
as near-sighted then as she is now ?”
“Do you call that a veal cutlet,
waiter ?” said a customer; “ why, it’s
an insult to every true calf in the coun
try.” “ I didn't mean to insult you,
sir,” said the waiter.
So Hospital Sd4.
No palatial hospital needed for Hop Bit
ters patients, nor large-salaried talented
puffers to tell what Hep Bitters will do or
cure, as they tell their own story by their
certain and absolute cures at home.
CHARACTER ON THE DEFENSIVE
Hi my essay In Tm: Srs upon fer
tilizers, in which I stated that the
chemicals for a ton of fertilizer would
cost front fifteen to twenty dollars. I
did not say that more might not bo
put in, but farmers are paying from t 0
to 70 dollars per ton, anil often getting
but little else f%atv swamp mnek or
dirt. And the best, fertilisers may be
made at a cost of fifteen to twenty dob
lars per ton. Now, I made this state
ment with the following analyses in my
possession, to-wit: The U. S'. Commis
sioner’s report, pngs' 141—Windsor
Gnano Company’s Phosphate contains
soluble phosphoric acid, a trace; re
duced phosphoric acid, I.OG per cent. \
Vn soluble phosphoric acid, a trace;
potash, .14 percent.; niftogen .18;
value, $.1.84 per ton. Superphosphate,
received from E. C. Belt, Rockville,
Md. (supposed to be Eureka). This is
a popular article here. Analysis—
reduced phosphoric acid, .75 ; soluble
and insoluble phosphoric acid, none;
potash, .74 ; nitrogen, 2.04 per cent;
value, $10.40 per ton. Loes's (an ex
cellent article) soluble' phosphoric
acid. 0.G9 per cent.; reduced and insbl
uble phosphoric acid, none ; potash, .F7 ;
nitrogen, .14 per cent.; value, after
made $25.04. These were analyzed by
the chemist for l ire Commissioner of the
IJ. S., at Washington, D. G. I have
in my possession the formula! of an ar
ticle sold extensively, and one that 1
tried and found to do well; it is aw
follows: dirt, 20 bushels; nitrate of
soda, 40 tbs ; sulphate of ammonia, OO
lbs; salt, 8 bushels; bone dost, 1 bblf
land plaster, f bbl; potash, GO tbs —or
wood ashes, 1 bbl.—cost, S2O per ton..
This is a good article’.
In regard to the selling price, I hare
the certificates of two of the sellers!
here, and the verbal statement of the
others, that it all sold here last spring
at $07.50 per ton, notion option, and at
Roswell at 871. So I did not overstate
the price. Now, the misunderstanding
of the writer who animadverted upon
my essay grew out of the f:ct that I
was basing my statements upon the
above facts, and not on tin- analysis of
the Commissioner of this State, which
I had then never seen ; nor did I know
that an act had been passed to protect
the farmer from fraud, the very thing
that I was striving to do. I now have
from the Commissioner the law com
pelling every article offered for sale to
come up to a definite standard, or over 1
it. This is just what ought to be, and
I am glad that it is so, for it is best for
honest dealers and manufacturers, as
well as the farmers. Not ktrowing that
the law did require a certain per cent,
of chemicals in each ton, and not hav
ing seen the analyses of the State chem
ist, I made an exposure of fraudulent
articles that I had tested in the past.
And I have witnessed, time and again,
law-suits, where parties proved by re
spectable witnesses that the fertilizers
for which they had given their notes
were worthless. Of course these were
the larger per cent, dirt, sail 1, or muck,
or some inert material. I am glad
that the law does not allow it now.
And the only mistake that 1 made was.
that I made my statements from firm
convictions, impressed upon my’ mind
from the recent analyses at the city of
Washington, together from personal
knowledge of the composition of fer
tilize! s made some years ago. I never
saw the law regulating the sale of fer
tilizers until since I wrote the essay in
question, nor did l see the analyses of
our own State chemist, until I called
for them very recently. So it is plain,
that ns I did not make any statement
based upon recent analyses by this
State, there was no falsehood on im
part. lam as loth to utter a falsehood
as any other man, and I am as unwill
ing to injure the honest dealer or man
ufacturer in this most needed article as
any man. And I would not discour
age any man from using a good fertil
izer, at an equitable price. And 1
would state further that farmers may
purchase fertilizers now with more con
fidence in their purity, as the law com
pelis them to come up to a certain
standard. I have before me now tbs?
analyses of all fertilizers 3old here,
ranging in value from $24 to S4O, and
they are all up to the required stand
ard, and many of them over it. It is
now plain to any unprejudiced mind
that I did not make any intentional
misstatement, but was simply mistaken
by not knowing that the Legislature
had passed an act to protect the coun
try against a fraud that had formerly
existed.
I. J. M. Goss, M. I>.
The tneloneholic season is here.