Newspaper Page Text
Br HOLDER ft WILLIAMSON.
VOL. XIX.
1900.
New Hats,
New Shoes,
New Dress Goods
Have just arrived for the
Hew Year's Trade.
In each of these lines we can show preltier
styles and give better values than we have
ever done before.
Wfyte Goods.
In this department we have a large stock at
especially low prices.
In short, every department in our store,
Groceries,
As well as
. Dry Goods,
Will be fuller this year than ever.
We extend to all a cordial
invitation.
R. E. ANDOE & CO.,
Gainesville, Ga 14 Main Street Ph' ne 9
SOUTHERN RAILWAY
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ft—ping ars Wtwa*a Mr* Tor* aad Haw Or
■!. WtiUifMa, A tlamta aad Koatgoaa
•TTjaad alaa barwaaa NewTork andHeaaVla.
via W aahiajkcm.Avlaata and BirralaghML Jiine
mam thoroughfare • eke* between Washing
ton aad iltaala DtnUg nam aU aaea.i
Tm* ■ —a "-..-j lutn Km Matt
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as£.
THE JACKSON HERALD.
KUSSSI.L £ ARMIBTEAD,
Attobnbys at law.
Offices at Winder and Jefferson
DR. A. B. MERRn TANARUS, D. D. 8 ,
Galne.vvllie, a.
Will be In Jefferson the first Monday In eacb
month and remain * ne week, for the purpose
of doing 11 kl ds of dental work. Office
N. N. t’endergrass store.
e. W BROWN,
ATTOBK9T at Law,
Jefferson, oa
Will do a general practice collecting a spe
cialty. office over Hera'd office
JAMES M- MERRITT,
ATTORNEY AND OoCNSkLOB AT LAW,
Jefferson, on
Prompt fT*e-lor olvnn t© onalrwMM
T W. STARK,
ATTOKNIT AT LAW,
Harmony Ororo, oa.
The Georgia Railroad .
Th f llowicg tamed agists are
prepared to furnish foil and reliubn
information regarding 11 schedule*
and rates to all point.- N-irtb, South,
Eaet nd West.
Information given regarditg u
routes, both as tj an
ireignt.
Communicate witb any of tbe *g*nt
named, and you will receive pro }
reply.
*6. JACKSON, J OE W WHITE.
Oan'l. Pass. Agent. Traveling Pass Ag’t
Frank W. Coffin, S. P. & P. A.
Augusta, Qa
S. W Wi kes, C. F. &P. A, At*
Uofci, G.
M. R Hudson, T. F. and P. A.,
Atlanta, Ql
S. E. Magill, C A, M-con, Ga.
W. W Hardwick, S A., Mao<>n, Ga.
C. D. Cox, G. A., Athens, Ga.
Also BgeDfcs at Washington, Madi
on, Milledgeville, Union Point and
C vin too
REM >rgan, C. A., Chattanooga.
Tenr.
Tim H Mo re, C. A , Nashville,
Tmn.
W. W Lumpkin, T. F. A, Colum
bia, S C.
W. I. Cormier, C. A., Charleston,
S. C.
Don't Tobacco Spit and Smoke Toar Life Awny.
To quit tobacco easily and forever, be mag
netic. full of life, nerve and vigor, take No-To
Bac. tbe wonder-worker, that makes weak Laen
strong. All druggist*. 60c or 91. Cure guaran
teed Booklet and sample free. Addrnna
Stirling Remedy Cos., Ckkeng* or New Y#rk
HARMOSAN.
Now the third ud fatal conflict for the Persian
throne was done.
And the Moslem’a fiery valor had the crowning
victory’ won.
llatKosan, the last and boldest"“fhe invader to
defy.
Captive, overborne by numbers, they were bring
ing forth to die.
Then exclaimed that noble captive: “Lo, I perish
in my t hirst 1
Give me but one drink of water and let then ar
rive the worst!”
In his hand he took the goblet, but awhile the
draft forbore,
Seeming doubtfully the purpose of the foeman to
explore.
Well might then have paused the bravest, for
around him angry foes.
With a hedge of naked weapons, did that lonely
man inclose.
‘‘But what fear’st thou?” cried the caliph. ‘‘ls
it, friend, a secret blow?
Fear it not! Our gallant Moslems no such treach
erous dealing know.
“Thou may’st quench thy thirst securely, for thou
shalt not die before
Thou hast drunk that cup of water. This reprieve
is thine—no more!”
Quick the satrap dashed the goblet down to earth
with ready hand.
And the liquid sank forever, lost amid the burn
ing sand.
“Thou hast said that mine my life is till the wa
ter of that cup
I have drained. Then bid thy servants that spilled
water gather up!”
T or a moment stood the caliph as by doubtful
passions stirred,
Then exclaimed: “Forever sacred must remain a
monarch’s word.
‘‘Bring another cup and straightway to the noble
Persian give.
Drink, 1 said before, and perish! Now I bid thee
drink and live!”
—Richard Chenevix Trench.
A .... A ......4...... A ....., A .....
ft ft WOMN’S FIGHT ft
ft . WITH .ZULUS, ft
<?!►
: : An Incident of Boer Life In the :
Transvaal.
By P. Y. BLACK.
-•.A.
• V-’ W*-... T -..-
The fires on tlie hills were the warn
ing. The farmers were commandeered
—that is, every ablebodied man be
tween 1G and GO in the district was
called to take liis horse, his “biltong”
or dried beef ration, his rifle and am
munition, and proceed at once to the
rendezvous, thence to proceed against
the fierce and warlike Zulus, who had
again raided the Transvaal. Farmer
Putter saddled up and hurried off, as
his first duty was, but first he called to
him Piet, his sou, and solemnly spoke
to him.
“Son of mine,” said the farmer sol
dier, “you are not yet man tall enough
to face the Zulu impis iu open field,
but to your care I give mein \Touw and
your little sister Greta and Pretorius,
your brother. You must, if need be,
play a man’s part, for, since the two
gold prospectors left the farm at the
sign of war, there is none to take com
mand of the Kaffir servants hut you.”
Then Piet said without bravado:
“You may trust me, father, for,
though I he not a man. still I am a
Boer.”
So the farmer rode away, and Piet,
thus promoted to command, withdrew
into the sitting room, and almost at
once his trouble began. His first care
was to clean and load all firearms.
These hung on the walls, and some
were old fashioned and without am
munition to fit them. But Piet’s eye,
seeking his own pet light rifle, which
he had won in a shooting match
against all boys of his age for many
miles round, missed it. He was star
tled, for it is almost criminal to meddle
with another man’s glory—his rifle—and
he sought Pretorius to see if that ambi
tious youth had taken it down. Preto
rius had it not, and Piet ran out to call
Malula, a native servant, with sudden
fear in his soul.
Malula did not come at the call, and
Piet, with a pale face, thought for a
moment, and then, taking his old gun
and belt, leaped bareback on a horse,
without a word to alarm the family,
and rode off unseen at a gallop. He
rode to the cornfield, where the native
laborers should have been working.
The green corn waved in the wind de
serted. Not a man was in sight. He
dashed to the meadows dowu the val
ley, where the herders should have
been with the cattle. Here, in spite of
himself, tears sprang to his eyes, for
the cattle were gone, and the herders
were absent. The great grassy fields
were silent as were those of corn.
“They have deserted us as soon as
my father’s hack was turned,” cried
Piet iu dismay. “And they were not
Zulus! Can it he a general rising among
the Kaffir tribes?”
At that thought he trembled, but he
had still vigor enough to ride to the top
of a kopje near by. From the peak he
had a view of much country, and saw
a cloud of dust far away, which he
guessed was made by the stolen cattle.
“Never mind,” said Piet; “if we beat
the Zulus, we shall get them back with
interest.”
Then he dug his heels into his horse’s
ribs and dashed down the hillside. He
had seen, half a mile away, a black fig
ure moving swiftly across the veldt,
and the sun glanced from something
borne on its shoulder—a gun, Malula.
Before the traitor servant was aware
of pursuit, Piet was within 400 yards
of him. Then the Kaffir heard the
horse’s hoofs and turned. For a mo
ment the black seemed inclined to run,
but changed his mind as the boy shout
ed to him angrily. Malula deliberately
raised the stolen rifle to his shoulder.
Piet threw himself from the horse as
a bullet whistled over the vacant sad
dle. The boy, already a hunter, replied,
with but a hasty glance through his
sights, and Malula uttered a howl and
staggered and fell to the ground struck
in the chest. Piet felt a spasm of hor
ror. Deer a-plenty had he shot, but
never till now a man, so that his heart
for a flash stood still, and his own face
was deathlike. He rode slowly up to
Malula, and found the Kaffir writhing
in a death agony. Piet again dismount
ed, and attempted to offer aid, but the
savage repulsed him. With a look of
hate he glared at the boy, and cried in
his own tongue:
“I am one, but tonight come the Zulus,
and no white thing on the farm shall
live. For mine there shall be teA
deaths!”
So he died, glorying in the hope of a
ipftadj revenge, and the Boer boy, Uav
DEVOTED TO JACKSON COUNTY AND THE DEMOCRATIC Y ARTY.
JEFFERSON, JACKSON COUNTY, GA., FRIDAY, JANUARY 19.1900.
mg mm, recovered his new rifle ana
rode slowly and mournfully homeward.
Here his troubled mother met him.
“Piet,” she said, "the Kaffirs have
left us.”
“I know,” said he, and looked into
her brave face, and told her what had
happened and what Malula had said of
the nearness of the Zulus.
“If my father had known it,” said
her son, “he would not have left us.”
“He was commandeered,” said the
Boer wife. “It was his duty. Country
first—always, my son.”
“But,” said Piet, in much perturba
tion, “my father did not think the
blacks would fly. He thought that they,
Basutos, would fight their old enemy,
the Zulus. If these come, what are we
to do? Shall we leave the farm and
trek to Van Boeven’s?”
The Boer mother - pressed her lips
with a frown of pride.
“That was not well said, my son,”
she answered. “Oom Putter said ‘Stay.’
As he obeyed his general and went, so
we shall obey him and stay and fight
till he comes.”
It was a Roman speech. Even as the
words came from her mouth she
looked round and saw Piet, a well
grown hoy of 15 years; Greta, a child
of 11; little Pretorius, and the baby—a
goodly garrison to defend the hearth!
But she saw that hearth, she saw the
dear walls her husband had built to
bring her home as a bride, she saw the
fields he had tilled and the barns he
had raised, and seeing them she would
have fought to the last scratch of her
nails, like a wildcat, rather than give
them up.
“Besides,” said she hopefully, “what
could the wretch Malula know that we
don’t? The Zulus cannot he near, and
if they are, the farmers have out their
scouts, and they say the English from
Natal are also ready. Before they reach
our farm the Boers must meet them,
and surely the savage shall be strick
en.”
Nothing more was said about desert
ing the homestead. Vrouw Putter went
her work quietly, hut Piet began to
prepare. Now, the farmhouse was
roomy and the garrison a most pretty
one, and, puzzle over the matter as he
might, the hoy could not see how its
rough stone walls could he protected at
once on all sides if the attacking force
was to he a large one. His mother
was about ns good a shot as he, and
even Greta could discharge a gun at a
pinch, hut two or three guns could not
protect so rambling a building. Piet
came to that conclusion with a feeling
akin for a moment to despair, until, at
last, as he stood in the broad yard look
ing at the house, the chickens came
clucking about him iu their search for
food, and he had an idea.
All day he worked busily, leaving
his mother to the children, and by
nightfall he had prepared a fort to
withstand a siege. Two or three times
during the afternoon he had slipped
off to the top of the kopje, where he
could look afar, hut each time he came
back, having seen nothing but the roll
ing veldt. They had supper, and again
Piet slipped away and came hack, hut
now with a grim face.
“Mother,” he whispered, “from the
west I heard the war song of the Zulus.
It came faintly with the wind. In the
direction also of Van Boeven’s farm
the skies are red and if I go at dark I
fear I shall see the flames rising from
his barns.”
The mother gathered her baby tight
in her arms for a moment, and then
quietly asked her eldest:
“Are the guns cleaned and loaded?”
“Y r es,” said Piet, “and, mother, if you
approve, we must leave the house. It
is too big and rambling for us two to
protect.”
“Leave the house?”
“Not very far,” said Piet and explain
ed.
In that land of few dwellers space is
not of much consideration. The farm
buildings were quite widely scattered,
and Farmer Putter had built his cow
byres and pigpens and so on a proper
distance away from Ills house walls.
All the afternoon Piet had been march
ing, laden with packages and bundles,
between the house and the outbuild
ings. Now, when it was dark, lie put
out all the lights of the house, and the
windows and doors were stoutly bar
red.
“Where are we going to sleep?” the
children asked, accustomed to rise and
lie down with the sun? and Piet an
swered cheerfully, “In the chicken
coop.”
The children, at first astonished and
incredulous, were delighted when they
discovered that their brother meant
what he said, for the sight of the
chickens feeding had given the boy the
necessary idea. If the house were too
big, the coop could not be accused of
that fault. About the rocky kopje
stones were plentiful and more conven
ient than wood. Therefore, Piet had aid
ed his father in building a solid affair
to shelter the many fowls. It was
tone and high and roomy. Piet, dur
ag the afternoon, had made on each
side, by careful removal of stones,
loopholes and carried to the henhouse
the more precious articles in the house,
with all the ammunition and guns.
Now the chickens, squawking, were
ruthlessly turned out, and the little
family went in, the youngsters gig
gling. The door, which Piet had
strengthened, was closed, and the garri
son prepared. Vrouw Putter was not
without experience in war’s alarms.
She looked round with a brave smile.
“Well, done, Piet,” she said, and
calmly began to examine the guns,
while at the same time quieting the
children, who, now in the dark and dis
turbed by such preparations, began to
be afraid. Again Piet slipped away to
the kopje, and when he came back he
said, “Flames are rising from the Van
Boevens’, and the war song is coming
near.”
“Loud!” the vrouw asked briefly.
“Not very,” her son answered, piling
rocks against the door.
“A detached party,” said his mother
quietly. “If the Lord wills it, we will
protect our own.”
And she made them all kneel down
and pray and then sing a psalm.
*******
It was a fitfully moonlight night in
the dry season and chilly. White clouds
pursued the moon after hiding it and
leaving the veldt in darkness, then
passing on and flooding the land with
silvery beams. For a long time all was
very still. At last Piet, peering out of
his loophole to the west, saw a shadow
among the shadows, and this shadow
moved and glided, and came swiftly up
the slope on which the chicken coop
stood between the house and the trees
by the river. It waa followed bv an*
otuer, ana another, and another, ana
another, coming on like wild ducks in
a V or wedge, and from the heart of
the shadows came a low hum —the song
of the impis.
“How many?” the mother asked, as
the moon shone out, and Piet told her
there were about 20, with shields and
assagais, for in those days firearms
were not common among the Kaffir
tribes as now.
“A raiding party,” said Vrouw Put
ter, and took command. Piet was eager
to fire at once, but she forbade. The
children were very quiet, though trem
bling. The savages came on and halt
ed, and came on again, now silent and
apparently puzzled at there being no
sign of life about the house. As the
coop stood it could not be readily dis
cerned in the shadow of the slope.
Again the Zulus advanced.
“Mother,” said Piet, “if they get close
to the house they will fire it.”
She nodded, but waited until the sav
ages were only 50 yards away then—
“ Fire!” she whispered, and from her
own loophole and from Piet’s at the
same instant streamed a flame, and the
Zulus gave one great cry of rage and
astonishment, as two of their number
threw their arms high and fell, their
shields clattering beside them. At once
little Greta and Pretorius did their part,
and with incredible bravery in such in
fants forbore even to tremble, but
handed up fresh guns, while the two
defenders passed the empty ones down
to be loaded by these small but trained
fingers. The Zulus, however, did not
fall back. Furious at being taken by
surprise they dashed at the little fort,
and a shower of spears came clashing
against the stone walls. Crack! again
went the guns, and again a howl of
pain resounded through the night. The
Zulus were almost in touch of the fort,
and were pressing onward, one on top
of the other, with their ferocious yells,
when a tall man among them with an
iron ring on his head, sign of an induna
chief, shouted a command and at once
his warriors fell back.
“Mother,” cried Piet, as they seized
fresh rifles, “don’t let them think that
we are so few. Greta and Pretorius,
load as fast as you can. Mother, let us
fire continuously and, thinking we are
numerous, they will retire.”
Y r rouw Putter nodded consent, and
at once these two valiant defenders of
hearth and home began from the half
dozen firearms at their disposal to pour
bullets into the retreating crowd of
naked blacks. They could not tell what,
actual effect tlieir missiles had, save
for an occasional cry from the war
riors, but they hoped that so quick and
withering a fire would deceive the par
ty. In this manner, however, they
used up a good deal of ammunition
from the two boxes of cartridges Piet
had carried to the chicken coop.
With hardly a pause, the induna gave
his savages their instructions, and sud
denly they ran apart from one another
in the moonlight and surrounded the
henhouse and came at it from three
sides. Now, indeed, the besieged were
hard put to it, but never quailed. Greta
took the lightest rifle and, little girl
though she was, her father and brother
and even her mother had taught her to
use it. She took position, a white faced
heroine, at one side, and her mother
and Piet in their old places. Down
came the Zulus, casting spears before
them, and sheltered by their long,
tough bullhide shields. Crack! crack!
crack! swiftly the rifles rang out, and
still the Zulus rushed on. The fingers
of little Pretorius were busy on the
floor of the hut, loading the rifles now
getting hot. Crack! crack! The savages
reached the wall; one scrambled to the
roof; he thrust a spear down a crack.
The Boer’s wife cried out; her shoulder
was pierced. But Piet’s voice was tri
umphant, as a yell came from the in
duna himself.
“I aimed for the chief and got him!”
cried the boy, and indeed the induna
seemed badly hurt, for he limped back,
supported, and again called off his
soldiers. Piet ran to his mother and
helped her bandage the wounded arm.
“It is nothing,” she said bravely, and
added more softly, “nor my life, either,
if children and home are saved.”
Suddenly little Pretorius cried out in
dismay.
“Piet,” he said, “there are no more
cartridges!”
It was true. One box was empty, and
the other covered box did not hold am
munition. Piet looked and despaired.
Two gold prospectors had been staying
at the farm who used dynamite in their
work. They had gone off at sign of
trouble, but had left some tools and
thincs behind. In this box which Piet
had carried off for ammunition were
instead some sticks of dynamite.
“I— have betrayed —my father’s
trust!” cried Piet. “My mistake has
been our ruin!”
And he. flung himself in despair
against the wall. But his mother, lind
ing nothing but empty guns, kneeled
quietly down and prayed, her babies
about her. She had done all she could.
The rest lay with a higher power.
For a moment Piet was crazy, and
then recovered himself. He looked
through his loophole. The Zulus were
in a group quite a hundred yards away,
almost Indistinguishable in the night.
Even as-Piet looked they moved and
he knew they were about to attack
again. With a shout of rage the furious
boy suddenly stooped to the dangerous
box he had carried from the house, and
then threw down the rocks from the
door and burst out. In his hands he
carried two sticks of dynamite, carried
such deadly things in his hands that a
stumble meant destruction. Yet he
dashed ahead through the night yell
ing. The Zulus turned on him in amaze,
thinking him mad, and greeted him
with a shower of spears. Unstricken,
Piet ran to within 50 yards of them,
and then, one after the other, he threw
at them with all his might the dyna
mite. There was a fearful concussion,
which dashed the boy to the earth, a
roar as of artillery, a medley of fearful
shrieks from the unhappy Zulus, and
all was still. Vrouw Putter and the
children came out trembling, and found
Piet insensible, but of the Zulu raiders
no trace, save scattered limbs, where
the earth was thrown about, leaving a
great hole. The dynamite must have
struck fairly in their midst and had ex
ploded with fearful effects.
That happened long ago. Piet Is to
day a man and owns the farm. His fa
ther is dead, but the brave old mother
lives on with Piet and his wife. Many
changes have taken place on the lonely
farm on the veldt, but one building re
mains unchanged, and reverently pre
served. It is the chicken coop, which
is known by the children for miles and
miles as “Oom Piet’s Fort.’*—New York
Evening Sun.
THE WAY TO PROPOSE.
Wlint the Malden and the Matroa
Had to Say About It.
“I never could accept a proposal from
a man unless the conditions were just
right,” said the romantic maiden
thoughtfully.
“Of course not,” replied the matter
of faet matron. “He must be the right
tuan in the first place, and he must pro
pose in the second. Those are the con
ditions that must be always Just right
before any sensible girl will think of
marriage.”
“Oh, I don’t mean that,” returned the
maiden. “He must know how to pro
pose. Do you know, I believe if I were
really In love with a man and he didn’t
propose properly I should reject him.”
“When it comes to proposals of mar
riage,” replied the matron, with de
cision, “any way is the right way.”
“Oh, no, it isn’t,” asserted the maid
en. “The surroundings must be appro
priate. Everything must be in har
mony. If my Prince Charming proposes
to me in the house, he must be in a
dress suit, and be must be earnest but
dignified. There must be a certain ease
and elegance of manner, and his words
must conform to his actions. If he
proposes to me in the woods or on the
lawn, he may be in negligee attire, out
ing costume or something like that,
and he may then be more impassioned
and vehement in his declarations. But
I never could accept a man in negligee
costume who proposed in the house.”
“Don’t you be too sure about it,” re
turned the matron.
“Oh, but I am,” said the maiden. “1
have figured it all out very carefully. The
scene must make a perfect picture. It
would just kill the romance if it didn’t,
and I couldn’t possibly accept him.
And his words and tone! Both must
breathe love and yet be in conformity
with all the surroundings.”
“I’ve known lots of girls who thought
that,” said the matron reflectively.
“And it didn’t happen that way?”
“N-o; hardly.”
“But in your case?”
The matron sighed.
“I had the same idea,” she said at
last. “I pictured some quiet nook, the
birds twittering, the sun shining
brightly and all the world joyous as
he poured well rounded sentences
throbbing with love Into my ear. OF
else I saw him sinking on one knee in
front of the divan upon which I was
sitting and looking me straight in the
eyes with a long, lingering look of
love, while he said: ‘Oh, adorable one,
be mine! Say that this is not to be a
world of Stygian darkness for me, but
that the sunlight of true love shall
shine ever brightly as we go through
life hand in hand!’ ”
“Oh, beautiful! Lovely!” cried the
maiden. “That’s just the way I’ve
pictured It. And when your Prince
Charming did come what did he say?”
The matron sighed again.
“He was taking me home under an
umbrella In a rainstorm,” she explain
ed. “I was wet, and he was wet. My
hair was stringy, and there was mud
on his trousers, and we were altogether
two of the most unprepossessing look
ing mortals you ever saw. When he
was about to leave me at the door, he
suddenly exclaimed, ‘Say, I’d like to
carry that umbrella over you all the
time.'
“ ‘What?* I said in some surprise.
“ ‘Oh, to put it in plain words,’ he
said, ‘let’s get married. How about
It?’ ”
“llow dreadful!” exclaimed the
maiden.
“Wasn’t it?”
“Such an inappropriate place and
time!”
“Yes, Indeed.”
“And such prosaic words!”
“Most prosaic.”
“Oh, I couldn’t accept a man under
those circumstances.”
“If he was the right man, you would,
nevertheless.”
“Oh, I couldn’t do It possibly,” pro
tested the maiden. “I’d feel that I’d
lost half my life. Why, in a case like
that he couldn’t even fold you in his
arms and all that when you said d”—
“Wait a minute,” interrupted the
matron. “Not so fast. You’ll know a
lot more about men than you do now
when you accept one, no matter how,
when or where it may be. There are
some features of the occasion they nev
er overlook, but don’t you build your
hopes too high on everything else be
ing in harmony.”—New York Sun.
Colonel Atkinson's Wit.
One of the judges of the Wayne cir
cuit court tolls of an Incident in the bar
practice of the late Colonel John At
kinson that illustrates his quickness to
hurl a Parthian shaft and the biting
sarcasm of his Irony.
He was opposed in the case on trial
by all the power and resources of
James H. Pound, and they were fight
ing like giants for every point of ad
vantage. Pound had won a majority
of the jousts, the colonel was nettled,
and was lying low for a chance to de
liver a swinging blow.
"It came,” says the judge, “when I
decided a point against Pound. It had
been fiercely argued by both attorneys,
and in deciding it as I did I stated my
reasons at length, giving authorities.
I saw Pound shake his head at one of
my conclusions, his lips moved, and I
supposed he had made some comment,
so when I concluded my decision I
asked:
“ ‘What did you say, Mr. Pound?” ’*
"Quick as a shot and in his most cut
ting tones of intense sarcasm the colo
nel replied:
" ‘Mr. Pound did not speak, your
honor. He merely shook his head. There
Is nothing in it.’ ’’—Detroit Tribune.
The Enrnlngii of Playwrifchta.
Dramatists of established reputation
write plays only upon order. Their or
dinary prepayments are SSOO upon the
delivery of a scenario and SSOO more
upon the completion of a play. "If the
finished work does not realize expecta
tions,” writes Franklin Fyles in The
Ladies’ Home Journal, “or If the man
ager for any other reason does not de
sire to put it on the stage, the money
paid is forfeited after a certain lapse
of time, and the ownership reverts to
the author.
"But if the manager decides to pro
duce the piece the author receives a
percentage of the gross receipts, usually
5 per cent, payable weekly, after the
amount previously advanced has been
deducted. Ordinarily it increases with
the amount of money taken in. More
than one native drama has earned
SIOO,OOO for its author. A dozen have
yielded $50,000 each, three times as
many $25,000 and a goodly number
|IO,OOO. M
Trick Beat the Conductor.
“Tickets!”
The conductor on one of the most
prominent lines between the east and
west started through the coach tak
ing the tickets on the right and left
as fast as he could scrutinize them
until he reached a man, who to judge
by the valises he carried was a trav
eling salesman, says the Chicago
Tribune.
“All right, conductor, as soon as I
can find it; I had it when you entered
the car, but I’ll be hanged if I can
find it now,” said the traveling man,
who began to ran ont the contents of
the dozen or more pockets in his
clothes.
He pulled off his hat, looked
through that; looked on the flooi;
under his seat; picked np his valises
to see if it was under them, and
finally began to look through his
pockets again. Quite a crowd of the
other passengers who noticed this
by-play began to gather around him
and ofier him advice about the places
that they failed to search for the
missing ticket. "With each sugges
tion that was made to him the trav
eling man seemed to get more and
more nervous, with the conductor
and the other passengers standing
by and laughing to thtir heart’s con
tent.
“All right, here it is,” said the con
ductor, as he reached over and took
it from the teeth of the nervous man,
“I jast wanted to see if you could
find it.”
The conductor passed on through
the car while those who had been
er joying the nervousness of the trav
eling man continued to guy him about
the matter. He kept up the nervous
manner until the conductor left the
coach, when he blurted out:
“Aw, come off! I knew where the
ticket was all the time, but I was
taking off the stamp date on the
other side. The ticket is a limited
one and expired seven months ago.
I have run short of money and ex
pected to find my remittance from
the house at the next stopping place,
so I adopted the plan I did to keep
the conductor from looking at the
date on the back of it. He vas so
intent upon laughing at me that ht
forgot to look at the back of the
ticket, but even if he had looked at it
lam sure that the date is entirely
removed.”
Advice for School Girls.
The principal of ono of the large
city schools, a man of superb physi
que, as well as fine intellectual en
dowments, gives this sensible advice
to the girls under his care:
“Stady hard while you study. Put
your whole mind into your work,and
don’t dally.
“Begin your studying early in the
evenifcg, bat stop before 9 o’clock.
“Take a little recreation before re
tiring to change the current of
thought and to rest your head.
“Be in bed before 10 o’clock. The
sleep thns obtained before midnight
is the rest which most recuperates
the system, giving brightness to the
eye and a glow to the cheek.
“Take care cf your health. That
is first. If you need to dp more
studying, rise at six in the morning ”
—Phrenological Journal.
How to Succeed.
Boj s, the world is wide. If yon
wish to be somebody, “pitch in.” The
brave always have friends. Where
others have gone, you can go. If
the old tracks don’t suit, make new
ones. Success is not obtained with
out effort. If you fail once, try it
agaia. If it’s dark, strike a light.
Are you in the shade? move around;
for if there’s shade on one tide,
there is sunshine on the other. Take
time, boy*; don’t hurry too fast. Go
slow, especially till you know the
road or become acquainted with your
team.—Ex.
What Are We Coming To?
One of our exchanges takes the
floor to remark that next year -we
expect to read something like the
following in the daily papers: “About
10 o’clock this morning a horseless
wagon loaded with cowlees milk col
lided with a brainless rider on a
chainless wheel. Theluekless wheel
man was badly injured, and being
homeless, he was taken in a horseless
cab to the home for friendless, where
his death wes painless in an hour or
less.”
“Uncle Gabe,” a-ked the inquisi
tive white mao, “when do you think
the twentieth century begins—in
1900 or 1901?”
“Well,” replied Uncle Gabe, after
the elow, assured manner of a man
accustomed to grappling with com
plicated problems aud throwing them
three times out of five, “ef hit wuz
watahmillions I know I wouldn’t be
gin on de twentieth hina’d ontell
aftah I had finished de nineteen han
d’dth.”—Chicago Triune.
Txbxbi 81.00 A lIAI.
The Local Newspaper.
The Constitntion of December 28,
has this to say of the weekly preas
in its leading editorial:
“This is a big work for the press
of the state, but we feel sure that
the newspapers of Georgia will provo
equal to it. The support rf thete
newspapers is one of the first duties
of citizenship. That man who does
not take his local newspaper id in
different to the only agency which
can give his community a public
voice. No matter what other claim
ants may be in the field, there is not
one which can have a place ahead of
the local newspaper. If the paper
is weak, it is because the people
make it so by non-support. One of
ol the best services which the busi
ness men of the towns of Georgia
could undertake would be to make
an inquiry into the standing of their
local newspapers, with the idea of
supplying any improvements which
might be needed. The investment
would repay itself abundantly within
the year.”
A Fable.
Once upon a time, says the In
dianapolis News, a frog sat upon the
bank of a pond and croaked and bel
lowed all night. As he croaked and
bellowed he communed with him
self, and his thought was:
“I must sing with all my might
for, see, the whole world is listening
to me. I can hear no other sound
but the sound of my singing.”
Presently the frog paused a mo
ment, and he then found that all the
other frogs were singing as loudly as
himself, while the katydids in the
trees were working overtime. Then
the frog thought again:
“It would seem that I am not
playing a star part, but am simply
one of the chorus.”
Moral —There are heaps of people
in this world who are like the frog.
The only trouble is that they do not
pause a moment.
The Weather Calendar.
One of the best calendars of the
season is the “Cardui Weather Chart
and Calendar for 1900,” published
by the Chattanooga Medicine Cos.,
the manufacturers of McElree’s Wioe
of Cardui and Thedford’s Black-
Draught. The Herald office has just
received one from the publishers,
which consists of 12 sheets of paper
13x20 inches in size, all fastened to
gether with a gilt tin strip and a
brass loop hanger. Each sheet con
tains the calendar for one month in
large figures that can be read across
any room. Under the figures patent
weather signals indicating Prof. De-
Voe’s Weather Forecasts for every
day in the year appear. The moon’s
changes and legal holidays are also
shown. W’e understand a few copies
of it can be secured by sending 10
1-cent postage stamps to the Chatta
nooga Medicine Cos., Chattanooga
Tenn.
School Teacher—“ Now, Bobby,
spell needle.”
Bobby—“ N-e-i-d-l-e, needle.”
Teacher—“ Wrong. There's no ‘i’
in it.”
Bobby—“ Well, 'taint a good
needle, then.”—Ex.
HcSpa.e
Mature
J Babies and children need J
| proper food, rarely ever mcdi- |
| cine. If they do not thrive J
} on their food something is I
j wrong. They need a little |
| help to get their digestive j
| machinery working properly. |
COD LIVER Oil.
W/TH HYPOPHOSPMTES ofUME <S SODA
[ will generally correct this J
I difficulty.
If you will put from one- |
j fourth to half a teaspoonful J
I in baby’s bottle three or four s
I times a day you will soon see I
!a marked improvement. For |
larger children, from half to
| a teaspoonful, according to i
| age, dissolved in their milk,
| if you so desire, will very
j soon show its great nourish
* ing power. If the mother’s
J milk does not nourish the ;
j baby, she needs the emul
sion. It will show an effect
at once both upon mother
and child.
soc. and SI.OO, all druggists.
! SCOTT 6c BOWNF., Chemists, New York.
NO. 51.