Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

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?