Newspaper Page Text
SCHLEY COUNTY ENTERPRISE.
A. J. HARP, Publisher.
A BORDER BATTLE.
MEXK’ANH, MimKISO A UNITED
MATS reilCE FOB INDIANS,
Precipitate a ITglu In Which liotb Com-
ninndera ..re Killed.
Captain Emmet Crawford, of tho Third
regiment of United States cavalry, one of
the most prominent officers in the regular
army, has just terminated with his life the
most obstinate pursuit of hostile savages ever
made in the history of the American army.
Since May 17 last, when Geroniino
broke out from Camp Apache in Arizona,
until January 10, when Crawford attacked
and captured the whole camp, that pursuit
has been kept up, showing tho curious specta¬
cle of the wiliest savages on earth being
tracked down by kinsmen no loss savage and
no less wily.
It is stated on the authority of a courier
from Crawford’s camp, who brought the
news of his unfortunate death, that for fifty-
two hours his command followed without halt
or rest tho trail of tho renegade, the last
hours of the journey being a night march over
a lava bed of the greatest roughness.
Crawford broke down, but was carried along
the trail by scouts ou each side. He re¬
marked to a subordinate that this would be
his last scout, as ho had broken down and
could do no more, but something told him
tliat success would crowu his efforts on the
present march.
A tu’o hours’ running fight took place, and
a number of Indians wore wounded, but all
escaiied. Tho hostilos sent word that they
wished to hold a conference. While the
troops were iu camp, awaiting the time fixed
for the conference, they were attacked by
154 Mexican soldiers. Efforts were made to
let them know that the troops were Ameri¬
cans and friends. Captain Crawford and
Lieutenant P. Maus advanced to talk with
them.
A shot volley was the fired, and Captain Crawford
was m head, ami Mr. Horn, the in¬
terpreter, The was Mexican slightly wounded in the left
arm. fire was returned by
the scouts of Captain Crawford’s com¬
mand, but was only sufficient to keep
the Mexicans at a distance, Tho
firing lasted half an hour, when Lieutenant
Maus succeeded in having a talk with the offi¬
cer taiu iu having command been of killed. the Mexicans, He their eap-
was told the
Americans were taken for hostiles, owing to
the darkuess. Captain Crawford was mortally
wounded.
The C’hiraoahuas pro said to be suffering.
The winter is severe in the Sierra Madre, and
they lost all their horses—sixty-seven in num¬
ber—all extra ciothiug and much ammuni¬
tion.
The Apache scouts are bitterly depressed
at the death of Crawford, whom they loved
as a father. Crawford had seen
lots of the hardest kind of
service during for the civil war. He made a
great name himself iu the campaigns
against the hostile Indians in Montana,
Dakota, Idaho, Nebraska and Colorado. He
took part in the campaigns against the Sioux,
Utes and Cheyennes in Arizona ami jpainst
the hostile Apaches. Ho accompanied (ton-
era! Crook in his expedition to the
Sierra Madro in 1883. Ho was in
charge of tho Apache reservation until 1885.
He volunteered for this present expedition.
He was a native of Philadelphia, unmarried,
temperate, pointed honest, just and true. He was al¬
ways out as a model f <>r young soldiers
to copy. He enlisted as a private in
♦■ho ' " veuty-first ami Pennsylvania volunteers
iu 1361, for gallant service in the war
rose to the rank of brevet-major. After the
war he was appointed second lieutenant in
the regular army, and was assigned to the
Third cavalry in January, 1871, and was
made captain iu March, 187!}.
Greece and Turkey.
WAR KMMINENT BETWEEN THF.M-
CAU8I1 OF T11E TROUBLE.
A Constantinople dispatch to the New
York Herald says: I have just received in¬
formation from such high sources as leads mo
to believe that war between Greece and
Turkey is nearly certain. The only chance
for maintenance of peace would be a new
cession of Janina by Turkey as claimed
by Greece according to the treaty of Berlin,
or the occupation of the Linens by the pow¬
ers as it was during the Crimean war. The
Greek government has had to choose between
striking a blow for establishing Hellenic su¬
premacy iu Macedonia or the facing political of dynas¬ lead¬
tic troubles at home. The Greek
ers consider the latter would be the most
disastrous. I have reason to know that the
Turkish government fully expects hostile
demonstrations on the jiart, of Greece to
commence within the next three weeks.
Every effort is being comple¬ conse-
queutly of male here preparations, for the also for
tion the naval a
system of torpedo defence in the Dardanelles.
The first blow would probably be struck at
the island of Crete. Greece is about to call
out two more classes of reserves.
Dir A Horace dispatch Humbold, from Athens, the British Greece, minister, says:
informed Premier Delyaunis to-day that
England was prepared to send a
fleet to prevent Greece from attack¬
ing Turkey by sea. Premier Delyannis The re¬
plied that Greece would not disarm.
Greek fleet sailed to-day, with sealed orders.
A demonstration was held to-day to protest
against the attitude of England. The ministry
met yesterday and to-day to consider Lord
Salisbury’s note, which mentioned that the
course taken by England had been consented
to by the powers, especially by interviews Germany.
Premier Delyannis lias had several
with the king on the subject. The news¬
papers uus'S'iiously condemn tho 'unjustness
of Lord Sr ury. The reserves abroad are
responding \ alacrity to the summons to
return to da
Ever since (i 'ten tv of Berlin, says the
New York Iter (h • Greeks have loudly
and persist, : toy a, • >«! their rights to that
portion of A dsinia. Thessaly Ik uiuded re¬
spectively west side, by Janina the Kamiiia the river north, on the and north¬ the
on
Salembria river onward as far as Tempo on
the east.
Greek diplomats without exception main¬
tain that this large teiTitory was made over
to them by the conditions of the treaty of
Berlin in 1878.
has They refused assert that Turkey then and ever since
to carry out that portion of the
contract imposed upon her by the Plenipo¬
tentiaries, been and that Greece single-handed has
unable to assert her rights.
S3
politics to hear that Greece is now seriously
to occupy that territory which she has long
«£0 come to look upon as belonging to the
ikmgdom, and to have been filched from her
by the Turk.
A Fata'
There was a smash , n Clarke A Co
trnm road inTatnall, Ga.. lam Thui day. As 11 .
t a ii was ntarmg the river, loaded with logs,
si d was crossing tho hixli trestle half a mil
above the camp, the coupling pin of th w.
rear trucks broke and threw tin ni, toge hoi
with shout seven sticks of limber, from the
tiaol,, ah falling shunt forty feet to the
ground. Train hands Boh Hutchins aud
Michael Geary were killed instantly and two
others ware si ghtly wounded—ail colored,
There was considerable damage caused by the
run off, to the track and trestle.
Today.
Tho sunslilno lingers in llio room,
I sec it through tho window utremn,
Kissing tho pillow, where ho lay
Ilis head in many n boyish dream,
Hut, oh! tho change since yesterday,—
'Hie young, strong stop Unit 1 so miss.
Tho weary miles now strotching on
Between us, und my Inst fond kiss.
And mine had been a different plan,—
A dronm of sheltered nooks mid bowers,
Of toil und pleasure hand in hand,
Of home and friends and merry hours.
Hut ho had longed to try tho world,
Its hopes, its promises, its cares,
To tempt Dumo Fortune’s fickle smilo,
And win her to him unawares.
And so, with spirit hold and bravo,
lie pressed my hand in muto “good-bye,*
And turned aside, lest I should seo
The tears that glistened in his eye.
And my poor heart was aching sore,
lie might havo heard oach throb ot pain,
My questioning heart, that yearned to know
If I should moot iny boy again.
Oh, life is hard! The common lot,
And parting wring tho anguished heart.
Hut, oh! how differently we’d choose,
Yet seo our fondest hopes depart!
We tnke the burden we would fain
Lay down, and fold our weary hands,
Praying our loss may he his gain,
Trusting to Him who understands.
—Every Other Saturday.
A Detective’s True Story.
“I have lost faith in some detective
methods and have learned to be very
careful,” said Detective James K.
Price, of the Twenty-ninth Precinct.
“Yes, I’ve been looking a little grave
for the last few days, and I’ve had an
experience. There’s nothing very
startling in it, but it’s an interesting
story, if it’s not the first I’ve told about
a crime. I like it because there’s
nothing vulgar or rankly criminal
about it, and no police officer ought to
disregard the lesson I was taught.
But no names, mind! No, it must be.
what you call anonymous all through,
although at least half a dozen persons
in this city and two in a western city
will at once recognize the principals
and side actors in it.
“The starting point is the well fur¬
nished bedroom of one of New-York’s
most celebrated operating surgeons.
It won’t do any harm to say it’s in a
house in Fifth-avenue not far from
the Hotel Brunswick. The surgeon
has been bedridden for some time,
owing to an injury to his knee, but his
practice and patients are so important
and solid that for some time he has
received those who absolutely declined
treatment at other hands at his bed¬
side. The other day he was very busy
He possesses a fine Jurguensen watch
which, with the chain, is worth $650.
In the morning he called his page, told
him to give him the watch, and the
doctor wound it up and saw the page
put it on the mantelpiece. Then he
devoted himself to his patients, enter¬
ing the name of each on a slate as he
or she went away. Hours passed by
and when leisure came and the doctor
wanted to know the time his watch
could not be found. I was sent for
and the facts for me to handle were
simple. Thirteen patients and the
page were the only persons who had
been In the bedroom from the time
that the watch was wound up—one of
them was a thief.
“ ‘How about the boy?’ I asked.
“ ‘Out of the question, Price,’ said
tho doctor; ‘I have tested his honesty
and have the utmost faith in him.’
“ ‘Then-?’ I began.
“ ‘Then,’ said the doctor, ‘you must
look for the thief among my patients,
and do your duty as an officer.’
“Of course the doctor’s slate was
consulted, and 12 of the persons who
called were vouched for by him as
absolutely beyond suspicion. The
thirteenth patient was the child of a
lady from Cincinnati. The mother’s
name I should have remembered, as it
is that of a man whose position in
social circles both in Cincinnati and
other cities is among the highest Mrs.
-came to this city with one of the
most famous physicians of the West
to have Dr. treat her child, five
years old, for hip trouble and occupied
a suite of rooms at tho Sturtevant
House. Dr. knew the physicia^
but did not know the lady. At first
Dr.-would not allow himself to
believe that the watch ought to be
looked. ,,,, for in . tliHt .. , (jUH.rt.Gr. . 13ut* ..... ttlGre
were the other 12 patients and the
page acquitted and he had to bring
*>«« *» •«"> ««*• Th. first
move was to send fertile physician.
^ told who the lady was and was
agitated and alarmed when the sug-
gestion ,. was delicately made .... that she ,
was a kleptomaniac, Confronted
with the facts, he admitted that affairs
most take their course, at tho same
time declaring his belief in the lady’s
innocence. Dr.--told me to probe
the affair to the bottom, and was a
little influenced by a member of his
household, who saw the lady from Cin¬
cinnati in the surgeon’s parlor, and
‘did not like her looks.’
“I manoeuvered to be in Cae suspect-
person’s presence without betraying
ELLAV1LLE, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY II, 1880.
myself. I struck on the personality
of a' mal or of appliances for distorted
limbs and wont to the hotel. 1 saw
the lady lirst without her seeing mo
through a half opened door, and like
the man in the song, ‘1 sez to myself,
sez I,’ *if you’re a thief .lames K. Price
doesn’t know anything about honest
faces.’ Then I was admitted to her
presence, and I have seen very few
such gracious and admirable women.
She had ray sympathy at the outset,
and she was so wrapped up in her girl
and spoke so tenderly of tho little
cripple’s cheerless life of agony that a
dozen times I was about to betray my¬
self before the proper time came. Then
I asked her to sit and listen to me for
a minute, told her who I was, aad
stammered out the story of the rob-
bery and our suspicions. Had I had
any suspicion left it would have been
swept away by the manner of the lady.
Her hands went up, her face changed,
and if J had put a dagger in her she
could not have shown more pain. No
crying out or showing off, but real,
dead earnest grief, as i;’ a sorrow too
great to get through her ideas had
come upon her.
“After awhile she said: ‘And do
you believe me guilty?’
u i No, ma’am,’ I replied, bluntly and
honestly.
“Then she asked what she should
do? The thief must be found, she
could not rest under suspicion that
would he a blot not only on her hut on
her unfortunate little girl. She did
not need to beg rue to clear up the
mystery, and I put in some heavy
work on the case, after telling Dr.
-that L did not suspect the woman,
and being told that no one else could
be suspected. A couple of days after
the lady, her child, and the physician
went back to Cincinnati. She was
broken down; her features had chang¬
ed under the keen sting of suspicion.
Next day I found who was the thief.
I had gone over the list 6n the slate
many times, and was compelled, little
by little, to narrow my field of suspic¬
ion, when I discovered that one of the
patients was accompanied by his son,
a youth of 20. I went to work on these,
and found I had to deal with a clergy
man whose name is recognized every¬
where in New-York, and of whom few
educated Americans are ignorant. I
had made only a couple of inquiries
about the boy when I started for the
pawnshop and in a few hours I had
the watch and chain and knew who
pawned them. I had, too, an inter¬
view with the mother of the young
man, a kind, pleasant lady, whose
faith in and anxiety about her son and
husband when I inquired about them,
were touching. I was pretty well sick
of the case when I told her the truth,
After her agony was over she said 1
must see the father. 1 called on him
later and came near breaking down,
Yet, he met me with outstretched
arms, took me by the hands, and, with
tears streaming down his cheeks, said:
•Brother, this is a hard blow, a harder
one never was dealt me. I thought I
was sorely stricken a little while ago,
when I laid my daughter to rest for-
ever, but this tries me more.’ I sat
with him for an hour. I had such dls-
cretion as is proper In such cases and
could promise not to make an arrest
until ordered to act harshly by Dr.-,
receiving a promise that the delinquent
should be ready for me if the com-
plainant decided to punish him.
“Of course he was not punished’
When I laid the watch and chain on
Dr. s bed and named the thief he
said, *1 rice, stop right there. But,’
said Price, brightening up, “I took
from that room and mailed a very sat-
isfactory letter to the Cincinnati lady
which was penned at my suggestion.
“How about tiie young man?”
“Well’ it’s a question of reform or
coming my way. Guess he’ll quit
funny business for a time. But I’m
glad about the lady. I’ve had a lesson
that’ll last me some time .”—New York
Times.
The Northern Light.
It is argued there is a great open
polar sea surrounded by icy cliffs and
lashed at times by fearful wind and
magnetic storms. When these occur
the spray is hurled into the air . and
the reflection of the sunlight creates
the phenomena known as the “north¬
ern lights.” But this riddle will never
be solved until by air-ship or some
other agency the pole is reached, and
its conditions and surroundings thor¬
oughly explored .—Day Star.
He Took the Hint.
It was very late. They sat quiet.
Conversation had long been desultory
and disjointed. lie would not go. A
brass band in the far distance struck
up a mournful dirge.
“How pretty that music sounds on
the still night air ?” said he.
"Yes,” she answered, wearily.
are they playing? Yes—-it is ‘Home .
sweet Home?”’
He took the hint, and he has it now.
Cowboy nii(l Broncho,
la a letter to the Philadelphia 77mcs
describing n “roping match” with
bronchos and-steers at the Albuquer¬
que, (New Mexico,) territorial fair
the writer says:
As a rule tho cowboys were well-
mannered but a few were enthused
and swore with spirit at everybody
and everything, these choice ebullitions
being usually preceded by an Apache
yell. After an hour of discussion and
pleasant wrangling, the judge himself
a fine rider, called out the name of an
Arizona cowboy, a champion puncher
and rustler from Apache county. At
the same moment a wild-eyed broncho
was released from the pen, and went
bounding and bucking over the ralnia-
tnre plain. According to the rule, the
j j Apache county man had to saddle his
C)W n broncho, lariat the lleeing horse,
an d rope him for branding in a certain
time. Being a rustler, he rustled
around so lively that before tho
broncho was two hundred feet away
he had saddled and bridled his own an-
imal, swung himself on to It, and was
off, gathering up his lariat as he went,
The other broncho, hearing the coming
enemy, doubled his pace, dodging here
and there, but at every turn he was
met by his pursuer, who was evident-
ly directed by his rider’s legs, and in
an incredibly short space of time the
fugitive was overhauled; the rope
whistled through the air and dropped
quickly over the broncho’s head, re-
gardless of the toss he had made. The
instant it fell the pursuing broncho
rushed and headed off the other, wind-
mg the rope about his legs; then, sud¬
denly sitting down upon his haunches,
he waited, with ears back, for the
shock. It came with a rush, and the
little horse at the other end of the rope.
as was the intention, went headlong
on to the field, the cowboy’s broncho
holding him down by the continual
strain that he kept up. The moment
the horse went down the cowboy
vaulted from the saddle, untying a
rope from his waist as he ran, and was
soon over the prostrate animal, lash-
ing the hoofs with dexterous fingers,
so that it could have been branded
then and there. This accomplished,
up went his hands as a signal to the
judges, who now came galloping over
the field, a roar of cheers and yells
greeting the Apache county man, who
had done the entire work in twelve
minutes, thereby securing the prize of
sundry dollars.
A Great Institution,
An English exchange says, that to
the question, “What is Lloyds?” the
answer must be: The great marine in-
surer of the world. And yet it is not
a joint-stock company, nor a “limited”
association, nor are its members bound
together by any mutual interest, it is
a perfectly anomalous institution, and
yet the greatest of the kind the world
ever saw. The rooms of Lloyd’s are the
rendezvous of the most eminent mer-
chants, ship-owners, underwriters, in-
suranee brokers and bankers. The
Merchants’ room is superintended by a
shipmaster, who speaks a dozen lan-
guages or more, and welcomes busi-
ness men from every nation. The
Captains’ room is a coffee-room where
ship-owners and sea-captains meet to-
gether, transact business and discuss
the news.
But it is the Subscribers’ room that
makes Lloyd’s the attraction it is. The
2,100 underwriters and subscribers
who pay their annual 4 guineas here,
a nd their 25 pounds sterling initiation
fee, represent nearly the whole com-
mercial wealth of England. 'Lloyd's
itself does not Insure; it Is only the
members of Lloyd’s. You wish
to insure 10,000 pounds sterl-
j n g on a venture to the Ber-
mudas. Your broker goes to Lloyd’s
| an d proposes, naming the ship and car-
| go. An underwriter turns to the reg-
! ister, ascertains how the veseels is rat-
j ed, speaks to two or three 3 , and
then says to the broker, “Yes, s will
j do it at one-eight of one.” “Who
signs?” asks the broker. “Magnay,
Kichardson, Coleman, Thompson ami
myself.” “That will do,” replies tho
j broker, who, while the clerk makes out
the policy, proposes again and again
for other ventliresL ..j 3 this consid-
; ered perfectly safe!” does the reader
: ask. Perfectly. The broker knows
his men. Besides, to fail to meet a
loss forfeits for ever all right to do
business at Lloyd’s.
What Happened to Pa.
“Is your pa at home little girl?”
“Yes, sir, do you wish, to see him?”
“Yes.”
“But you won’t know him if you do
see him 1”
“Why, what’s the matter?”
“Well, you see, out in the country
on our farm a man and his wife got
lighting, and pa he tried to stop them.”
“Oh, indeed !”
“Yes; you’d better call again. You
wouldn’t know pa now —Courier ^
Journal.
MAKING OIL PAINTINGS.
How Chonp Daubs are Turned
out in New York.
Factories Produco Them by tho Thousand
for $20 a Dozen.
Every winter, says the New York
Mail and /impress, circulars are sent
to farmers and villages, offering them
“real oil painting,” “copies of old mas-
tors,” and “copies of the works of the
most famous of modern artists” in “ele-
gant gilt frames” at prices which are
described as “defying all competition.”
Agents in this city who send the cir-
culars profess contempt for chromos
and cheap engravings, which, they de-
clare disfigure the walls of many
homes. Thoy claim to have made
contracts with rising young artists for
the production of celebrated paintings,
which they can sell to a favored few
for sums which amount to little more
than the cost of the materials. They
also have purchased, at a bankrupt
sale, a collection of flue gilt frames,
which they wish to sell at a small
profit. By such means they can offer
an oil painting and frame for $5,
which would cost $50 if purchased in
the regular way. The result is that
in many rural homes are found high-
ly-colored paintings in imitation gilt
frames. The pictures are usually ex-
pressionless landscapes, marked by
dimness of outlines and haphazard
blending of colors. City people often
wonder where such daubs come from,
In boarding-houses and in many hum¬
ble homes m the city the cheap oil paint¬
ing have made their appearance in re¬
cent years through the medium of
mock auction sales. Many a busy New
Yorker has his attention drawn to
more than one of the mock auction
rooms which abound in the downtown
districts. The open door is close to
the sidewalk and persons passing can
see at the further end of the room an
oil painting on an easel which is light-
ed brilliantly, by a row of gas jets
from above. Seen at a distance and
in a new gilt frame, tho picture has
an attractive appearance to an un¬
practised eye. The loud tones of the
auctioneer can be heard plainly in the
street. IHs words are seductive to
men on the lookout for bargains.
Several other men inside the place are
his assistants, or “cappers,’, but they
play the role of outside buyers. When
a stranger enters the room they hid
eagerly. Daub after baub is knocked
to them at $10, $20 or $25 until the
stranger makes a modest bid. If he
offers more than $2 for a painting and
frame the auctioneer lets him have it.
Most buyers think they have secured
bargains until their gaudy paintings
have hung in their homes for a few
months. Then the imitation gilt be¬
gins to crack like the paint on a lire
board, the bright hues darken on the
canvass and each owner suspects he
has been sold.
“There are a dozen factories in New
York and Brooklyn where such daubs
arfi made,” said a picture dealer to a
A/oV and Express reporter. “It is
sal ' 1 that the factories turn out from
500 to 1,000 oil paintings a day, ac¬
cording to the condition of trade,
The bulk of such pictures is shipped
West, hut thousands of daubs are sold
in New York and neighboring States
ever y 7 ear - An y one who looks close-
G at the ordinary run of them can
g uess how they are made. With big
paint brushes, pots of different colored
paint and a set of stencil plates, a
workman who ha3 no knowledge of
art matters can produce one of the
regulation daubs. Even the prepara-
tfon of the stencil-plates does not re-
quire much artistic ability. Canvas
for tho pictures is made of cheap
stuff an(1 hastily tacked on frames,
Copies of paintings in which there is
little variety of color are the favorites,
Ordinary paint is used. First, the
prevailing colors or groundwork, of a
painting are put upon a canvas with
one stencil-plate, and the canvas is
placed in a drying rack while the same
stencil is used for other copies. By
the time the last canvas of a set has
received its groundwork the first one
is ready for the addition of different
colors with another stencil-plate. So
the work goes on until a workman has
completed a set of 100 or 200 pictures,
a11 alike and a11 worthless from an ar-
tistic standpoint. Among picture
dealers such paintings are known as
‘Buckeyes.’ In most factories the
stencil work does not complete the
pictures, and poor artists are hired by
the week to add hasty finishing touch-
es to each canvas. It is necessary to
protect the cheap pigments by a
heavy coat of varnish, which also
tones down the most glaring imperfec-
tions. The actual cost of a completed
oil painting is less than 25 cents. Deal¬
ers in the West buy the ‘buckeyes’ for
$10 per dozen and upwards, according
to size.”
“Frames for the pictures are made
in the same factories. The fronts or
faces of pine frames are covered with
plaster, which is moulded In imitation
of the prevailing styles of gold frames.
Over the plaster Is spread a thin eoatlnp
of Vienna metal. The finished framus
look nearly as well as gold frames
when they are new, but they begin to
crack when they have been exposed to
the air for a few weeks. Imitation
gilt frames cost the manufacturer a
trifle more than ‘buckeyes,’ hut he
will sell the pictures and frames to¬
gether for $20 per dozen. I know of
one man who offers small daubs for
$16 per dozen, frames Included.
Agents can sell a picture and frame
for $2 and make a fair profit.”
Discoveries of the 19th Century.
Few great discoveries were made in
the first century of America. Noth¬
ing much had been brought out of our
continent before the time of Franklin
but furs. There were no reliable gold
mines in the country under colonial
rule. Hard coal wa3 not considered
fit, to burn until some time in the pres¬
ent century, and all the anthracite
wealth of Pennsylvania and the great
bituminous coal fields have been de¬
veloped in comparatively recent times.
Cotton was of no account for a good
while in the history of the country.
Oil was not found until our great civil
war was on tho top of us, and in the
very height of that war the oil fever
seemed to make the war itself an in¬
different matter. As long as slavery
stood up to be fought for no phos¬
phates were found in the Carolines,
and the greatest result following the
rebellion has probably been the appli¬
cation of scientific manures to our
soils.
Silver In Colorado has all been found
within a few years. The Comstock
lode, in Nevada, which for its period
produced more silver than any other
deposit known to man, was a develop¬
ment following the rebellion. Elec¬
tricity, in which the Americans have
been so fortunate, being provided by
it with common illuminating lamps,
took a new start almost a hundred
years after the time Franklin was
playing with it. Now they are find¬
ing natural gas in the western states
and about the foot-hills of the Alle¬
ghenies.
Alaska is the last region to tempt
explorers, and, hard and cold as that
country is, it may become in Ameri¬
can hands the key to the north pole,
and to many other wonders. Since we
acquired Alaska from the Russians
the fur seal robes have become known
all over the earth and yet those fur
seal islands might have been the prop¬
erty John Jacob Astor in the first
quarter of our century, when he was
attempting to anticipate the Pacific
railroad by a line of posts from the
Missouri river to Paget sounii.— Cin¬
cinnati Enquirer.
Out of the World.
The people of St. Kilda, an island in
the Atlantic to the west of Barra and
tho coast of Scotland, are shut off by
stormy weather from the mainland for
eight months out of every twelve.
Their crops having been ruined by last
month’s storms, they sent off messa¬
ges in a box, which was thrown into
the sea, and which luckily floated
ashore, or they would have starved
long before the summer, when they
would have received their next visit
from Scotland. It is an extraordinary
little settlement. There are seventy-
seven inhabitants, including the min¬
ister and schoolmaster. They are fair¬
ly well off, with tolerable houses and
good food and clothes. There are
1,000 sheep, which are common prop¬
erty, and each inhabitant possesses a
cow. There are no horses, and the
women do the horses’ work. In win¬
ter the men weave the cloth with
which the people are clothed, and in
summer they are occupied with their
farming operations. They marry
among themselves, and the race has so
terribly deteriorated that half the
children now die of lockjaw a few
days after their birth, There has
been some talk about the islanders re¬
moving to the mainland, but the ma¬
jority are inclined to stay where they
are. They are simply out of the
world from the beginning of Septem¬
ber till the middle of May .—New
York Heir.
War Prices in tho South.
A few days ago a party of gentle¬
men were discussing high prices in the
South during the latter part of the
civil war. “I paid $40 a yard for a
suit of gray cotton jeans,” said the
first speaker; “the suit of clothes cost
me $600 after being cut and made.
“The biggest trade I made during the
war,” said No. 2, “was $30 for a spool
of cotton thread.” “And I.” said the
third speaker, “paid $15 for a shave.”
"How could a man carry enough
change in his pocket to buy anything
with?” I ventured to ask. “They
stuffed it in their hats, boots, pockets,
or most any where it would stick,” re-
plied No. 1,—Marietta {Ga.) Journal
VOL. 1, NO. 20.
CHILDREN'S COLUMN.
Little Tlilnai.
Litt!,) labor* rightly done,
Little battles bravely von, .
Little masteries achieved,
I.ittlo wants with care relieved,
Little words in love expressed,
I.ittlo wrongs at once confessed,
Little favors kindly done, %
Little toils thou didst not shun,
Little graces meekly worn,
Little lights with patience borne—
These shall crown the pillowed hen
Holy light upon thee shod;
Theso aro treasures that shall rise
Far beyond the smiling skies.
About Needles.
“Mamma, what do they make nee¬
dles of ?” asked Dorothea as she looked
up from her sewing. She was a bright¬
eyed little girl of seven years, of an
Inquiring turn of mind and Industri¬
ous in her habits.
“Of wire, Dorothea,” replied her
mother.
“Steel wire ?"
“Yes.” I
“It must be very fine
“It is so very fine that fifteen thou¬
sand ordinary needles can be made
out of one pound ot wire.”
“Do they make one needle at a time ?”
“No, dear. That would be a very
slow process, and would make them
rather expensive. One hundred wires,
eight feet long, are placed in a bundle
and cut into proper sizes by a power¬
ful pair of shears; it is so arranged
that one man can easily cut about one
million needles in a day of twelve
hours.”
Dorothea’s eyes widened.
How are they polished?” she asked.
“I hardly know whether I can ex¬
plain the operation to you,” replied
her mother, ‘The needles are tied up
in bundles and placed in what is called
the scouring machine. They are kept
in motion from eight to ten hours,
which gives them a silvery appear¬
ance.”
“That seems simple enough,” ob¬
served little Dorothea.
“I didn’t say they came out of the
machine polished,” resumed the mother.
“The rolls are then covered with put¬
ty powder and oil, wrapped in canvas,
and placed in a similar machine called
the polishing machine. A third process
is necessary. The canvas is removed
and the needles are agitated in a ves¬
sel fillecfc with soft soap and water.”
“In order to remove the oil?” Doro¬
thea asked.
“Yes, dear. They are finally dried
In ashwood sawdust, after which they
are tempered.”
Which means brittle, don’t it, mam¬
ma?”
“J ust so. It is done by making them
hot, piunging them into oil, and after¬
ward burning off the oil.”
Dorothea was very much interested.
She now closely examined the needle
which she had in her hand.
Mamma, do they drill the eyes and
sharpen the needles before they temper
them ?” she asked.
Yes, Dorothea. I was getting along
too fast in my description. A clever
workman will drill and polish the.
holes of seventy thousand needles per
week.”
“That is a large number, mamma.
Are they sharpened on a grindstone?”
“Yes.”
“One needle at a time?”
Oh, no. An expert grinder will hold
twenty-five of the wires at once
against the stone, presenting all their
points by a dextrous movement of his
thumb.”
Dorothea pushed her inquiries.
“Where are needles principally made,
mamma?”
“In Kedditch, a small town near
Birmingham, in England. It is the
great centre of the needle trade, and
it may be said that It has supplied the
whole world for almost two hundred
years. Ninety millions of needles are
turned out every week.”
It was a larger number than Doro
thea’s mind could grasp.
“Did they use needles in old times?”
she asked.
“They are mentioned by some very
old writers. The beautiful Babylo¬
nian embroideries, which were often
made out of gold thread were wrought
with needles. The body of the wife
of the Emperor Ilonorius, whose grave
was discovered at Rome, in 1544, wa i
wrapped up in an embroidered dress,
from which thirty-3ix pounds of gold
were obtained. The needles used by
the ancient Egyptians were made el'
bronze. They had no eyes in them,
owing to the difficulty of piercin;
such minute holes in the metal.”
A Soulful Appetite,
Miss Clara (at the front door)---
Good-night, George, dear. As you
look upon the moon on your journey
homeward, let the thought come I"
you that I, too, am gazing toward th
cmne pale orb, and our souis will hol t
sweet communion. Good-night,
A little later. Miss Clara (in th"
house)—Mother, do you know wh i
become of all those cold buckw lie. C
cakes left over froro *>reafcfast?