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COACHMEN’S SECRET CO )f.
—
Bow Drivers ot Chicago Riga Coma nl
cate With One Another.
Signaling has become a fine art In vat-
So it has among the private coachm n of
the wealthy residents of Chicago. O eof
the first things a coachman must letun is
to look dignified. If his employer should
find or hear him speaking to a fellow
coachman while on the boulevard, there
would be a sign hung on the stable door,
“Coachman Wanted.” Even though he
wears skin tight trousers, a coat shining
with all the luster of a score of brass but
tons and a plug hat with a peacock feather
on the side, he is still human. The coach
man has friends, and he wants to exchange
greetings with them.
The club of coachmen of this city is well
known for its society affairs given once a
year in the shape of a grand ball. While
they are waiting the arrival of the ball
they hold meetings and discuss coach var
nish, toe clips and silver harness. At one
of the gatherings or meetings the coach
man turned to discussing the Morse sys
tem of telegraphing.
“I say, you fellows,” exclaimed one of
the party as he jumped to his feet, “I have
an idea. It is a capital one, don’t you
know?”
“Now, what is getting through youse,
James,” said a coachman with a red face
and the character ot County Cork on bis
face.
“Why, it’s this, Patrick, my boy,” re
plied the first driver. “You know that
Harold will not allow us to speak to each
other on the street. Nor will Potter or
Phil, and, in fact, none of the boys. Now,
my scheme is this: Why can we not turn
this Morse man’s system of wire talking
into the coachman’s ‘system of whip talk
ing?’ "
The suggestion at first was in a compli
cated form, but James managed to make
his scheme clear, and today “coachmen
talk” with their long whips can be seen
daily on any of the streets of Chicago. To
the person unacquainted with the code the
flashing of whips, describing odd circles
and a liberal arm play, would seem noth
ing more than mere fancy movements on
the part of the dignified driver, but to
the hundred or more drivers who under
stand what a fellow coachman means
when he gives three rapid whirls of his
whip, with two short cracks at the end,
it is all very simple. The three whirls of
the whip from right to left, with the short
cracks of the whip, mean this to the man
who understands it:
“I’m up against it. Out with the young
one returning S(J or more calls. Sympathy
Wanted.”
\ If there is. tjme for an answer, the coach
man who Jias been addressed may return
his answer with two long up and down
movements of his arm with the whip, and
then four crosscuts of the lash. This
means, “We are shopping, late luncheon
and last act at matinee. ”
Driving down Michigan avenue three
carriages may bo close together. Some
times the drivers manage to keep the car
riages side by side. This is when the oc
cupants keep a close watch on their coach
men, and if they but dare nod their heads
their positions are in danger.
One of the coachmen employed by a well
known resident of the Lake Shore drive
told a reporter for The Chronicle that the
secret code was known to but a hundred
drivers. The grooms of the stables do not
know the private signals, and those that
do know them are bound to keep them
secret. One of the interesting whip signals
is made in the following manner: The
driver grasps his whip a few inches from
the butt, sweeps it back and forth in a
graceful manner seven times, drops the
long lash in a drooping manner and then
pushes the whip up and down a score of
times in a'violent fashion. This means:
“The old man out last night. Plenty
on board. Wife cried, then hot. Fired
Molly, head girl, because ice water did not
reach him in time. Regular h to pay.”
The art is used more at receptions.
While the occupants of the carriages are
in the house the coachmen line up along
the street and carry on their small talk.
“At the best,” said one of the coach
men, “we are a lot held down by strict
orders. We are not allowed to bow or
speak on the street If we do, we lose our
positions or receive a warning that the
next time it happens it will be all off. We
got up this code partly for our own amuse
ment, and then we can really talk. AVe
have about 200 signals, and we have had
them printed. Each member of the Coach
men’s Signaling association has a copy of
the rules. It is dead easy to fool the old
man now.”—Chicago Chronicle.
Drinking Water.
Dr. Austin Flint, Sr., used to say,
“Plenty of water, plenty of water outside
and in for health.”
Since his day doctors generally have
more and more strongly recommended
water drinking, till now a certain and
large number of glasses of water per day
is one of the most familiar prescriptions
from some of the best doctors at the best
sanitariums in the land. High authorities
now tell us that often the basis of success
in the hot waters is neither the heat nor
the minerals, but the water. The water is
what the system of the patient was need
ing.
We are taught now that there is no dan
ger of drinking too much water and a
good deal of not drinking enough. Os
course that is not disputing the fact that
it is very easy to drink too much ice water
when wo are warm and too much of any
kind with our meals.
A practitioner and instructor at Belle
vue recommends everyone to drink a pint
of water on getting up in the morning
and a pint on going to bed at any temper
ature he likes. This is a hygienic sug
gestion, not a medicinal one. This very
successful practitioner thinks it is the best
way of giving the system needed liquid
and declares many irregularities disappear
under this regime. The water, mind, is
not, however, to be gulped down at one or
two drafts. A half hour or more while
dressing or undressing should be given to
sipping the two glasses. j
This same physician recommends a
good drink of water when we feel tirtfd or
faint—in that state that generally makes
us turn to tea or coffee or wine. The water
has an almost equally reviving effect and
much better results in the long run.—St
Paul Pioneer Press.
. A Memorial Bell Tower.
A remarkable college memorial is the
boll tower to contain a chime of 11 bells
which is being built on' the grounds of the
lowa Agricultural collegqZ at Ames. It is
in memtwy of Margaret McDonald Stan
ton, wife of the professor of political econ
omy in the college. The tower. Js being
built by the state in appreciation-of Mrs.
Stanton’s services as an educator and as a
founder of the college. The bells are to
be the gift of Professor Stanton. Woman’s
title to official appreciation seems to be
frankly recognized in lowa.—Harper’s
Weekly. |
AT THE WATERLOO BALL.
I*dy Loxlaa TigWlß IntereaUß* Story es
That Thrilllag Time.
An example of how near to us is the
yesterday of romance and song may ba
found in the recent death at her quiet
home in Ireland of Lady Louisa Tighe,
one of the women 4rho danced at the fa
mous Brussels ball before the battle of
Waterloo. Every one who has read Byron
—and it is getting fashionable to read
Byron once more—remembers the poet’s
description of the ball, but it is given to
few nowadays to have actually met and
conversed with a belle of that stilting oc
casion. Not many months ago a girl spent
an hour dr so with Lady Louisa Tighe in
her eon’s house of Woodstock. She was
of that refreshing type—the charming old
lady. One would easily understand how
Louisa Tighe bad .once been a beauty,
despite the wrinkles and crow’s feet which
carking cares had left upon her face.
“Bemember-tbe ball before Waterloo?”
said she. “My dear, could yon expect me
to forget it? Everybody, I fancy, has a
supreme event in his or her life. That
was my supreme event.
“I was staying at the British embassy,
and in our party there were many lovely
girls, now long since dead and gone. For
weeks we had talked of the ball and of
what we should wear. Girls were much
the same then aS they are today, and not
even the return of Napoleon from Elba
and the renewal of war seemed half so im
portant to us as the approaching ball.
'‘ My dress—l have it still—was a plain
white muslin, and over it I wore a Hue
sash, as became a debutante. There was
no fear for any lack of partners, for Brus
sels was full of young officers, and in the
army of occupation no less than 25 of my
own near relatives, all young men and
nearly all of some dancing ability. You
can easily picture, my dear, the flutter
which their proximity gave ufl.
“The great night came at last, none too
soon for us. I knew quite well that Na
poleon was marching on Brussels, but the
thought disturbed me little, for I had al
ready ten names upon my dancing list,
and the prospect was altogether delight
ful.
“It was a most enjoyable ball, but
Byron was wrong when he described us as
turning pale and listening with horror to
the distant roar of cannon. The truth was
that wo heard no cannon at all. Indeed
the three bands and the company of high
land pipers would have drowned the roar
of all Bonaparte's ordnance at such a dis
tance.
“Indeed it was not until I missed the
Duke of Brunswick from the ballroom
that I really knew what was ooming. The
honored name of ‘Brunswick’s fated chief
tain’ was upon my tablets for a dance, but
when I looked around for the duke I could
see him nowhere. In going, however, he
was polite, for he left a callow aid-de-camp
to tell me the truth about the ooming bat
tle. It is rather romantic, but that callow
aid-de-camp eventually became my hus
band.
“Our acquaintance began at the Brus
sels ball, when he showed both tact and
kindliness in setting my fears at rest and
actually danced with me the particular
number opposite to which the Duke of
Brunswick’s name had been set.
“I staid with Lord Clancarty’s family
until after Waterloo had been fought and
won. We did not rejoice very much at the
victory, I fear, as the thousands of poor
fellows coming In dead and wounded were
not conducive to enjoyment.”
Lady Louisa Tighe preserved to the last
the white ball dress in which she danced
at Brussels. The dance card on which the
ill fated Duke of Brunswick’s name had
been inscribed was unfortunately lost 25
years ago during a fire.—Exchange.
The Value- of Literature.
“What is it?” asked the old farmer,
looking askance at the bag which the book
canvasser had dropped on the ground with
a weary air.
“I have some of the most entertaining
and instructive literature of the day here,
sir,” answered the canvasser, endeavoring
to brighten up a little in order to secure a
purchaser. “In these days of education,
when our sons and daughters have been
trained”—
“Ain’t got n<Jhe,” interrupted the farm
er gruffly and ungrammatically.
“I have an assortment of books, sir, to
suit all,” continued the canvasser, “and
any which I may not have In stock I can
get on the shortest notice. Here are”—
And he proceeded to rattle off the names
of half a dozen as he pulled them out of
his bag.
"I’m afeared you ain’t got the kind I
want,” said the farmer after a careful
survey of the exteriors. “ This one seems
to be the nearest. How much is it?”
“That, sir, is 5 shillings,” replied the
canvasser.
“Here, take it back,” said the farmer.
“I want somethin cheap. You see,” he
added, “I don’t read 'em, but they comes
in handy like. If it’s got a leather cover,
it does very well for a razor strop. If it’s
thick, ft oomes in fust rate to put under
the drawers or the table when the foot or
the caster oomes off. If it's big, it’ll do
to hold the winder up. And I like ’em
with a fastener, so as the book won’t fly
open and get the leaves smeared with mud
when I throw it at the dog. No, I don’t
think you’ve got any as will do for me.”
—Pearson’s Weekly.
English.
Professor Skeat of Cambridge has a few
pointed words to say about the dislike of
some of his countrymen for the term
“English.” Ina recently published let
ter he wrote thus: "Those who wish to
substitute British have entirely forgot
that if any one has a grievance in this
matter it is clearly the Londoner, for
London is in Middlesex, the land of the
middle Saxons, whereas this extraneous
word ‘English’ ignores the Saxons as com
pletely as it does the Scotch, just as the
word ‘British* Ignores Ireland. However,
we shall have to move, it would seem,
with the times, and we shall soon have
before us a proposal that we must all talk of
the Amerioo- Anstralio - Canado-Cape-of-
Good - Hopo - Great-Brltish -and-Irish lan -
guago or probably something still more
comprehensive in order to avoid wounding
the peculiar feelings of those to whom the
very name of England Is an abomination.
Only one thing stands at present in the
way—viz, that there happen to be several
million people still left to whom the name
of England is no such thing, and these
millions Include foreigners out of every
nation under heaven.”
Picked Him Out.
A teacher was introducing a lesson on
“A Flint Stone” by a few remarks upon
the primitive savage. After detailing
many characteristics he wound up with:
“He was very rough, using no knife or
fork, but eating with his fingers. Now,
Who was this?”
Johnny—Please, sir, our lodger, sir.”—
London Tit-Bits.
ANOTHER "SPITE” BUILDING.
Curious Stracturc on a Re.aaaat oC *ks
De Peyster Propc ty.
A “spite store,” which oir does the well
known Richardson "spite L jute” on the
east side, has just been co: pleted in the
west end at West End avenue, the Boule
vard and Ono Hundred and Eighth street.
The store Is one of the smallest buildings
ever put up for the transaction of busi
ness. It fa 1» feet in depth and 0 feet to
width at One Hundred and Eighth street,
tapering to a sharp point at thesouth end.
It is two stories in height, and the occu
pant of the upper floor will be compelled
to ascend and descend upon a ladder. It
has a single wall of brick extending along
the rear. The front is of steel, with plate
glass windows, and the roof is of tile.
This curious structure is erected upon a
remnant of the Do Peyster estate and orig
inally belonged to a large tract of land
purchased by the De Peyster family short
ly after the close of the Resolution, when
the De Peyster homestead was located up
on the ground now occupied by St Luke’s
hospital, One Hundred and Thirteenth
street, Morningside Heights. The rem
nant was left when Wegt End avenue, the
Boulevard and One Hundred and Eighth
street were opened, and Henry T. Cary,
the executor of the De Peyster estate, has
long been at a loss to know what to do
with it, as Mrs. Sherman, the owner ot
lots on the corner, refused to purchase it.
The plot last leased for a term of
years to Michael M. McDermott of St
Nicholas avenue, and be immediately be
gan to erect the tiny store upon his claim.
Mrs. Sherman, the owner of the sur
rounding property, camo from Washing
ton at onoe to Interfere with the work,
but found she could do nothing. Mean
while several persons with whom she was
negotiating for the sale of her property
withdrew their option when they saw the
store being placed on the corner.
The structure is said to have cost more
than $2,000. It is erected upon a solid
concrete foundation to withstand severe
windstorms. The lower floor has been
fitted as a refreshment booth for bicyclists,
the roof has also been leased to a stereop
ticon advertising firm, and the upper floor
is designed as showrooms for specialties.
—New York Commercial.
The Drafted Soldier.
Onida stoutly denies that the soldier is
the highest type of humanity or that obe
dience is the highest human virtue. The
obedience which is exacted from the sol
dier is very much like slavery, and It is
no moral act and teaches no virtue.
“There is no servant, groom, artisan, farm
laborer or hireling of any kind so lazy, so
impudent, so insubordinate and so useless
as the young man who has recently come
out from his term of compulsory service.
When Lord Wolseley utters the preposter
ous declaration that the education given
by conscription teaches a lad ‘all the qual
ities calculated to make him a thoroughly
useful and loyal citizen,’ has he the least
Idea of what is the actual moral state of
the barrack yards and barrack rooms of
the armies of the continent? When the
youth has had purity and strength of
character and of mind enough to resist
the contagion in which he has been
steeped, he will in nine instances out of
ten be a spoiled agriculturist, artisan,
student, laborer. •
“I can conceive nothing so appalling to
the world as would be the forcing of the
military temper down the throats of its en
tire multitudes. Militarism is the nega
tion of individuality, of originality and of
true liberty. Its somber shadow is spread
over Europe. Its garroting collar of steel
is on the throat of the people. The whole
people sweat, groan, perish, under the bur
dens laid upon them for the maintenance
of the vast battalions of young men im
prisoned in barrack yards in enforced idle
ness and semistarvation.” Collier’s
Weekly.
Celluloid.
Though the chemical constitution of cel
luloid is a matter of doubt, the art of man
ufacturing this peculiar modern product is
explained in a few words—an article, says
The Trade Journals’ Review, made by the
combined action of pressure and heat, or
with the aid of solvents, in that case in
the cold. The camphor is dissolved in al
cohol, as little as possible, and the solution
sprayed through a rose"*on to the pyroxy
lin, the latter perfectly dry, a second layer
of pyroxylin being then added, moistened
again with camphor solution, and so on.
The gelatinus lump is worked between iron
rollers, to which It adheres, and the layer
is slit longitudinally and rolled again.
Tho cakes, .4 inch thick, are cut into
plates, about 2 feet by 1 foot, and pass for 24
hours into hydraulic presses, which are
doubly steam jacketed. The mass is now
sawed into plates, which are dried at about
95 degrees F., for a week or two and final
ly cut into smaller pieces, from which the
articles are stamped. Further, according
to a writer in The Gumml Zeitung, it ap
pears that at Magnus & Co. 's. noted estab
lishment in Berlin the method pursued is
believed to consist In pouring 100 parte oF
ether on 50 of collodion wool and 25 ot
camphor, the covered mass being then
stirred in earthenware vessels with rubber
sticks until a homogeneous gelatinous
mass is obtained, and then rolled. Apart
from dyestuff and other additions, the
average celluloid consists of two-thirds
pyroxylin and one-third camphor.
Alaskan Squaws.
Alaskan squaws are not sensitive on the
subject of their age. On the contrary,
they take some trouble to make it known
to the world. They wear a piece of wood
or bone in the lower Up, the size of the
ornament indicating the age of the owner.
When a girl marries, her lower Up is
pierced and a peg of wood o'r a piece of
bone the size of a pea inserted. As she
grows older this is increased in size until
it is almost as wide as her chin and one
fourth of an inch high. The result is na
turally most unsightly. There is an in
teresting family at Fort W ran gel which
illustrates perfectly this peculiar custom.
It includes four generations. A young
girl may be seen sitting on one side of the
one roomed square frame house, while her
mother, grandmother and great-grand
mother are squatted on the earthen floor
near the door offering mats and baskets to
the ship's passengers who come on shore.
There is no disfiguring object on the girl’s
chin, but there is a big one on the lip of
the great - grandmother. Philadelphia
Ledger.
A Pauper Princess.
The Infanta Isabella Ferdinands Fran
ooise Josephine, aunt of the king of Spain
and sister of the ex-King Francis d’ Assisi,
who died the other day in poverty in a
wretched inn in Paris, was the most beau
tiful princess in the Spanish court 50 years
ago. Her marriage in 1841 to Count Ig
natius Gurowskl, a Pole, caused a rupture
between her and her family. He died in
1887, leaving her penniless, and she has
been living from hand to mouth ever since.
• <7 *
B ICELAND "PONIES.
They Are Doede aad Marvels of Strength
sad Rn durance. .
If the camel is the s hip of the desert, the
Iceland pony is the cab, train, omnibus
and tram car of tho wonderful country to
which he belongs. To begin with, he is a
misnomer. He is not a pony in tho ordi
nary sense of the word. He is a horse in
bone and sinew, in strength and endur
ance, in manners and deportment—a hens
in everything, in fact, etlMfrt inches, and
a sober, steady, hardworking horse too.
Ho is a very “multum in porvo,” a “con
centrated essence” of horseflesh. He can
swim like a fish, climb like a goat and
jump like a deer. He sticks at nothing
and takes every variety of travel—bog,
lava bed, sand, bowlders and grass mounds
—with undisturbed equanimity. If he
has to ford one or two rivers, with strong
currents flowing girth deep, it is all in
the day’s work. Only give him time and
periodical halts for refreshment and he
will do his 50 miles per day and thrive up
on It.
Iceland ponies are bred in hundreds in
the largo grass plains in tho southern dis
tricts of the island. Little or no case Is
taken in selection, so the breed remains
unaltered and unimproved, tho average
pony standing from 1114 to 12)4 hands,
though here and there one will reach to
nearly 13 hands. Every variety qf color 1s
seen, but skewbalds of many shades arc
the commonest. Tho chestnuts, as a rule,
are the finest and tho browns the hardiest.
Beautiful cream colors, with light points,
are not infrequent. Black is very rare,
and roan also. Their paces are fast, con
sidering the size of the animal, a journey
of 32 miles being often done in six hours
or less, with heavy baggage. They trot,
canter and gallop, but the pace most es
teemed by the natives is the amble or
“skeld,” in which the fore and hind legs
on a side are advanced simultaneously,
giving a running action, very smooth to'
the rider. A good pacer is considered very
valuable and often sold for a high price.
Some of these ponies amble so fast that
they keep ahead of another going at a hand
gallop, and they maintain tho pace for a
day’s journey under a weight of 11 to 14
stone. Iceland ponies ctee steady and fast
In harness, though wheels are a compara
tively new departure in their country.
They travel mostly in strings, often tied
head and tail. Hay, baggage and house
hold goods are thus transported, and
building materials also. You meet a“tim
bur lestur, ” or timber team, of from eight
to ten ponies, one carrying planks trailing
on each side, another strips of iron, an
other bundles of tools; a certain number
of spare animals running loose, and not
Infrequently a foal or two.
It is as rare to see a dead Iceland pony
as a dead donkey, though their skulls are
often visible, half trodden into the miry
'ways surrounding the farms. The pony
begins work at 0 or 7 years—hard work,
that is to say. He is early apprenticed to
his trade by following his mother at her
avocations and when he is footsore is
strapped upon her back. lie works well
up to 20 years and over and often remains
fairly sound to a ripe old age. He feeds
on the fat of the land in summer, and in
winter, if his owner is poor, must live on
his wits and his stored condition. Farm
ers who are fairly well off keep their ani
mals in during winter and feed them on
hay, but notwithstanding many of the
ponies have a hard time of it. The Ice
landers, however, keep their steeds as well
as their means allow and treat them alto
gether in a brotherly fashion, and the S.
P. C. A. would seldom find scope for its
activity, except, possibly, in the improve
ment of bitting and gearing. Taking it
all around, the Iceland pony is certainly
not less happy—very often far happier—
than his bigger brothers in the south, and
his endurance, placidity and docility make
him a favorite in other lands besides his
own, while fitting him for his home du
ties in a manner which could not be sur
passed and must be tested to be fully un
derstood.—London Globe. ’
How He Got a Divorce.
Here is a Judgo Gary story: It was a
bigamy case, and tho accused man, after
living two years with the second woman,
had agreed to "plead guilty. But this was
only after he had secured solemn assur
ance from the state attorney that his
consequent sentence would absolutely di
vorce him from wife No. 2. He wished it
understood that he was willing to suffer a
term in the penitentiary if on release that
superfluous woman, whom he had taken
as a result of great misapprehension,
would have no possible claim upon him.
So he went into court.
“You fully understand what the plea of
guilty means, do you?" asked Judge Gary,
regarding tho devoted man with great
kindness.
“Yqk, your honor
“lywill bo my duty in that case to sen
tence you to the penitentiary. You un
derstand that?”
J/Yes, your honor. Anything to get
99
Judge Gary seemed to be writing a mo
ment, and then he said grimly and with
out looking up: “I suppose there are some
things beside which prison would be a re
lief. Any relative or friend of the defend
ant in court?”
A solitary woman stood up in the
benches and said in a rasping, nerve shat
tering voice:
“I’m his second wife, judge.”
The man of law looked at her without
lifting his head or suspending his pretend
ed writing. Then he said in his usual
searching tone: “Some things beside
which prison would be a relief. You ought
to be willing to take three years.” The
prisoner nodded cheerfully. "Then I will
give you one year. You seem to have had
the other two before they arrested you. ”
Chicago Post.
The Campaign “Orator.”
One of the saddest things about a cam
paign is the fact that a great many men
who haven’t sense enough to pound sand
go about making wild and incoherent
Speeches for Tom, Dick and Harry. Gen
erally they are gentlemen who are out of
work and who couldn’t earn 00 cents a
month at honest toil, yet they have no hes
itation whatever In telling the people how
to run the municipal machine without
losing money on it Their speeches are
poor, halting, stammering efforts that
make reasonable men sigh and moan, but
the gifted gentlemen are totally uncon
scious of this, for they continue to whoop
it up for their chosen candidate, just as
though they were making the hit of their
lives. Before the campaign is at an end
they accumulate such a gall that they
come to imagine themselves gifted craton
upon whom the mantle of Henry Clay has
settled for keeps, and whenever they go
out to take a walk they think that every
body along the street Is pointing the finger
of admiration at them. The fact is the av
erage man has no business trying to make
a speech. Such seldom fail to make sick
ening spectacles of themselves whenever
they attempt U.—New York Telegram.
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—GET YOUB —
JOB PRINTING
DONE JSr
The Morning Call Office.
■
We have just supplied our Job Office with a complete line <*i Btationcrr
kinds and can get up, on short notice, anything wanted in the way or
LETTER HEADS, BILL HEADS.
STATEMENTS, IRCULARB, '
ENVELOPES, NOTES,
MORTGAGES, PROGRAMS,
JARDS, POSTERS
r. '
DODGERS, ETC., ETC
We c*rry tue >et Ineof ENVEJ/ifES vm iTytc’ :
An aiiracavc POSTBR cf aay size can be issued on short notice
Our prices for work of all kinds will compare favorably with those obtained von
any office in the state. When you want job printing of 1 any dtnriptlcn |ive »
* !>
call Satisfaction guaranteed.
ALL WORK DONE
With Neatness and Dispatch.
Out of town orders will receive g
prompt attention '
J. P. & S B. Sawtell.
"cEiral if ™ milimhT
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Schedule in Effect Jan. 9, 1898.
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B. H. HINTON. Trafflo Manager. Savannah, Ga.