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Stic iHontgoiiicrg Jttonifor.
VOLUME VI.
A Summer Sonar.
Oh.' lull me to sleep ou this warm summer
‘lay,
And sing me a song of the clover,
How it nods to the trees
And bows low to the breeze,
To the bee all its honey gives over.
Oh! cheerily sing, as the bird trills its la)’,
How the daisy true answers the lover,
When he whispers so low,
“Am I loved; yes or no?”
And throws down its own crown but to
prove her.
Oh! sing of the birds and the brooks, what
they say;
And sing of them over ami over—
As I lie ’neat h the tree
And woo sleep for me,
As the bee, with his song, woos the clover.
—[Emil W. llobinson.
How He Found His Profes
sion.
Early biographical details need not
detain ns long. We wish merely to
relate one incident in liis career —the
crowning act of his life —and one
whose narration teaches many lessons,
the most obvious of which is that, try
as a man may lo find a profession
suited to his supposed tastes and abili
ties, fate oftentimes lakes the matter
out of Ids hands, and disregarding all
of his preconceived ideas, thrusts him
into the very place for which he was
designed.
11 is boyhood was about equally di
vided between books and play; the
books, however, were not as a rule
school-books, and his devotion to play
was also somewhat fitful. As a small
boy be broke more toys and required
more new games in a month than
would suffice to amuse a whole con
valescent ward of a children’s hospi
tal : and as lie grew older it became
evident that the very diversity of his
talents would never permit him to
give enough attention to any one sport
to become a leader therein.
At college he distinguished himself
in many ways, lie led his class dur
ing the Sophomore year, but through
out the next term his devotion to the
debates of his literary society so di
vided liis attention that lie barely man
aged to secure a speaker’s place for
the Junior orations at Commencement.
Great expectations were aroused
among liis fellow students as to liis
graduating speech, which would fol
low a year later; hut the next year lie
went in for athletics, and with so
much success that lie graduated near
the head of the base hall club, and not
far from the foot of his class.
After graduating, lie lost no time in
considering liis future profession. He
began at once the study of medicine,
hut the dry hones of anatomy afforded
him no mental or spiritual nutriment,
while the disagreeable details of physi
ology were repuguant to liis finer
feelings.
lie then taught school, and success
fully; hut after he hail whipped into
a state of dog-like submission, and
even affection, an overgrown hut
underbred hoy, who had passed upon
and discarded several of liis predeces
sors as “N. G.” (thus the boy put it,)
and hud also t liras lied in the presence
of an awe-stricken but admiring
school an Irate trustee patron,who had
most rudely differed with him on some
points of discipline—after these two
efforts liis career was suddenly closed.
The rest of the board, not liking the
precedent, agreed in informing him
that while they admired liis learning
and ability, they thought lie carried
liis idea? of corporal punishment too
far, and then, with glaring inconsist
tency, suggested that lie carry them
still farther —even into some other
scliool.
His mother was inclined about this
time to think that the world was using
her only son rather hardly, and ad
vanced money enough to set him up
in business in his native town, lie
entered upon a mercantile career with
sinnll capital hut large ideas. His
advertisements were models of correct
English, and illustrated the advantages
of a collegiate training. Things went
oil swimmingly for a while, hut it
must he regretfully confessed that the
swimming was mostly down stream,
and after some months of successful ;
mismanagement his creditors formed !
a “trust,” and he was forced, with re- j
luolauce, it must he admitted, out of ■
trade.
So far nothing has been said of Lis !
personality, nor i- there much need
lor this. Such men are nearly always
lovable. It i- the useful and not the i
ornamental traits that are wanting in j
MT. VERNON, MONTGOMERY CO., GA. THURSDAY, JULY IC>, 1891.
' their make up. They have enthusi
asm to plan, aiid, as far as it goes,
ability to execute, and only lack the
final quality of lixity of purpose or
will to make them continue to strive
after the first Hush of their enthusiasm
lias faded.
Not to follow his career too closely,
it may he said that at the age of ‘JB
there was nothing to keep him outside
the operation of the vagrant law hut
the mother just mentioned, who pos"
sessed a fairly oomfortable income,
and a still more comfortable weakness
for her hoy, ami a sign that read,
“Willoughby Marable, Attorney-at
haw.”
lie was sitting in liis office one lazy
spring day, enjoying a cigar and cogi
tating ou tilings past and present,
when it came to him, as by a flash of
inspiration, that he had so far missed
his calling. It needed only everyday
sunlight for an outsider to discover
this truth, hut to him it came as an
illumination. It was in literature,
and not in law, that lie was destined
to make a name for himself. Not in
the broad fields of Literature (with a
capital L) did lie intend to roam; no,
lie would become famous as a writer
of short stories. True, lie had never
written any, long or short, hut he had
read them without number, and h°
saw how easily the trick was done.
Acting, as always, on a strong im
pulse, lie threw himself on a lounge,
and proceeded to map out in his mind
his initial effort, lie had proceeded
far enough to make it a toss up
whether lie was destined to add
another to literature, when —Fate
knocked.
It was not a client bringing him the
case that would make him famous,
hut only a friend who catno to take
him to the tennis-court for a game,
lie went, and during tho game was
struck in the eye by a “smashed” hall.
This is a more serious thing than it
may seem to our readers, many of
whom have, perhaps, never been
struck in the eye by a “smashed” ten
nis hall, and especially so if one wears
glasses, as he happened to do. lie
luckily saved (lie eye itself from shat
tered glass, but the lids suffered no
little, liis physician commanded a
bandage over both eyes for at least a
week, and their complete disuse for
perhaps longer.
As soon as the pain liad subsided
sufficiently to permit him to think at
all, liis mind reverted to liis unfinished
story, and lie bewailed the hard fate
which,' even for a time, so rudely
checked liis new-born literary aspira
tions. Some such lament lie made to
liis friend —the fatal racket handler of
the afternoon —who, half in scorn,
suggested that he employ a stenogra
pher. 'fhey laughed together at the
absurd suggestion, hut the idea stuck,
and he determined, if possible, to
follow it with modifications.
Here enters our heroine. Her name
was Margaret Western, a next-door
neighbor and a life-long friend. In
deed, on Willoughby’s part the feeling
was stronger than friendship. lie
had long loved her, and was only
waiting to find his career—that career
which always seemed to be just ahead
of him—to ask her to share it with
him. Meanwhile liis pride kept him
•silent, for Margaret was the only child
of a rich and proud old lawyer. If
she loved him, she had never shown
it; if she knew the state of his feel
ings she had never betrayed her know
ledge, lmt had always treated him
with the easy familiarity and frank
comradeship that are born of long ac
quaintance, and that her simple and
unaffected nature made easy.
She was straightforward, intelli
gent and independent, fond of social
pleasures in moderation, hut earing
more for books and art. Arid, final
ly, she was a beautiful girl, in proof
of which no effort is made to describe
her appearance. She should ho liis
amanuensis. This was how the idea
had taken shape in his mind.
The next day, at the earliest season
able hour for calling, he groped his
familiar way across the contiguous
] law'll to Margaret's home, and laid be
; fore her his plans and aspirations,
i Site was too used to his vagaries to feel
! more than a mild surprise, and even
! managed to manifest a litt'e cuthitsi
! asm. In the pleasure of her socie l\
lie was not overready to begin his die
taiing; hut Margaret resolutely pro
cured w riting materials and urged him
j to his work.
j He hesitated, and pleaded his
wounded eye as an exen e for delay.
To this she would not listen; and to
end her banter he resolutely collected
his scattered wits and attempted a
pure piece of improvisation. He told
the story slowly, for lie was feeling
liis way, and Margaret had to take
down his words, and hesitatingly, be
cause as lie progressed he began to
realize that he was treading on dan
gerous ground. It was short and trite
enough, and this is the outline:
A boy and girl grew up together as
sweet-hearts —the hov poor, the girl
very rich. Not until lie lias returned
from college does he realize the barrier
that her wealth puts between them,
lie dares not rc. cw their intimacy un
til by his efforts he has more nearly
equalized their positions. The girl
recognizes the change, and with femi
nine intuition divines the cause, hut
will not shock conventionality by he
traying that her feelings also are un
changed. liis pride will not lei him
speak; her maidenly modesty keeps
her silent. This goes on for years,
until the young man, in despair, and
with never a word to her, leaves liis
native place forever. She, in utter
rage and loneliness, marries a man in
every way his inferior save in wealth.
And for both hero and heroine a
future of enduring misery.
They worked on almost without
pause until the end, and when the last
word was written lie hesitated a mo
ment, and then said,
“Well?”
“It would be a sad story if it wore
true,” said she, “but 1 don’t like it.
I don’t think it is n strong story. 1
suppose, Willoughby, you know —1
suppose you ought to know—men hel
ler than 1 do; hut I don't believe in
that kind of man you describe. Your
story lacks realism, as they call it. A
man as weak as tlie one you paint
could never exist. Why, lie never
could have escaped tho dangers of
teething,” she added, scornfully “And
as for your girl, 1 know that such a
poor, spiritless, liainby pamby thing
could never hold the love of even (lie
poor little puppet you have sot up.”
Then, aghast at her impetuous candor,
“Os course I am speaking of the
characters, not the story itself.”
Her voice had a vouch of anger in
it, and he, surprised at her vehemence,
could only stammer out, “I don’t
see—”
A quick movement from her checked
his speech, and he could hear the pen
thrown sharply on to the table, as she
said, in a tense voice that grew more
rapid as she went on: “You say they
loved each other, and that apart they
were doomed to misery; that they
were kept apart by liis poverty, while
she had more than enough for both.
What was all of it to her without him?
Why should it keep them apart be
cause it happened to he hers and not
liis? it should not do so; it would
not do so if the mail were not a coward
and the woman a fool. Now, don’t
you see? Oh, Willoughby, don’t you
see?”
Her voice had lost its tension as she
spoke these last words, and was
dangerously near to tears.
He lifted the bandage from liis
bruised eyes and looked at her. She
was leaning forward on her hands,
her lips quivering, her face suffused
with blushes, and her bosom heaving
tumultuously. He dropped at her
feet, clutching wildly for her hands,
and crying,
“Oh, Margaret, can it he true?”
One of her hands found his, while
the other rested a moment lightly on
liis head. “I’nt on your bandage,
Willoughby,” she said, leaning for
ward lo adjust it, and passing her
hands softly over his temples. “I
have cured your worst blindness,
dear, hut vour eyes arc still weak.”
And so it came about that at last lie
found his profession, or rather his
profession was found for him.
ot as doctor or teacher is lie des
tined to shine. His business ahilitie
are not to be at the service of Hoard - ’
nf Trade or Chambers of Commerce,
and though liis name is blazoned as
the junior member of the firm of Wes
tern <fc Mat-able, it is not in the courts
I hat his finer qualities are to he shown
and his genuine talents to he ex
hibited.
Margaret will tell you the profession
that nature made him for. He is fill
ing, she thinks, the position for which
he was destined from the beginning
of time. It is one rarer to find and
harder to till tlum any in laboratory
or school-room or mart of business or
court of justice; and one more impor
tant to her than any trade, calling,
business, art, or profession —tlint of
a model husband.
8o it will come to pass that though ;
lie will never, as (lie world calls it.,
“do any great things for himself,”
Margaret will he happy, and their
little ones will lovo him, and liis life
will not have been spent in vain.—
[Harper’s Wee <ly.
Hone from Chickens Ingrafted on a
Man's Leg.
In the Walmsli It’uilroml Company’s
hospital at Springfield, 111., is a case
of bona fide bone grafting, the human
limb being supported and strengthened
by hone taken from a live chicken.
John Dougherty, a section hand, while
working in llie Chicago yards June 14,
18'.)0, received a slight injury to liis
left shinbone by scraping the skin oil
while placing a piece of timber on tho
ground. The skin did not g' >\v on
again. The old sore spread rapidly
until it covered several inches of tho
shinbone. The surgeons decided that
bone-rot had set in. The only way to
save tho remaining portion of the bone
was to remove the decayed part down
to tho live hone by chiseling it out.
Tho operation was successfully per
foriiie' 1 ..
In consequence of (lie large amount
of hone which had boon chipped away,
something had to bo substituted lo take
its place and make the limb again
strong. To do this a live chicken was
placed under (ho influence of chloro
form, one log was dcflly amputated,
the hone removed and split, and the
raw edge applied to the living bone in
Dougherty’s leg. This operation was
continued until the hollow place was
filled with living hone from four
chickens. The operation proved suc
cessful in every detail and healed with
astonishing rapidity.
in about four months Dougherty
was able to hobble around with the |
help of a crutch, and last February lie
was permitted to go wither . crutch or
cane. He was greatly suU vised when
told of the operation had been
performed, hut lie could vouch for its
success. 11c was recently given a pn- ;
sition as galcmaa at a crossing on the
Wabash Iliad —[New York Times.
Ilreani Superstitions of Indians.
In Mr. Tliurnim’s elaborate work
on the Indians of Guiana lie tells us
that the dreams which come to the In
dian are to him as real as any of the
events of his waking life. To him
dream acts and waking aels differ only
in one respect —iiiniHy, that the for
mer are done only by the spirits, the
latter being done by both the spirits
and the body. Seeing oilier men
asleep, iad afterwards hearing them
toll tho things which (hey supposed
themselves to have done when asleep,
the Indian has no trouble in reconcil
ing that which he hears with the fact
that the bodies of the sleepers were in
his sight and motionless throughout
tho time of the supposed action, be
cause ho never questions that the
spirit, leaving the body, plays its part
ill all dream adventures, lit some
respects this odd superstition compares
favorably with (lie beliefs of the
Mediteval Germans, who were of the j
opinion that tho soul could leave the j
body while the latler was asleep, and j
then again return without the sleeper’s j
knowledge. In undergoing these j
transformations the soul usually took i
on the form of a small red mouse. — j
[St. Louis Republic.
A Strategist.
Mrs. Manhattan Heacli (win, wants
a new hut very much) I say, fiiibby
I’ve got to have a new dress. Don’t
you sec how shabby this one is getting?
Mr. Heach (very much frightened)
—A new dress! That will never do. |
Money is awful scarce. If you hud
aid you wanted a new hat, I would
not have objected, hut a new dress is
out of the question.
.Mrs iteach—All right. I suppose
I’ll have to he satisfied with a hat, hut
I can’t lialp being a little disappointed.
[Texas Siftings.
Never Maligned.
Il is a curious fact that no author- !
ancient or modern, no poet, no phi
losopher, no grumbler or genius ever
has been found to sp<-al. ill of jewels,
while gold, that symbol of incorrupti
ble integrity, has had its iradueers. — j
[.Jeuuess-MiUer Magazine.
Till: HUMAN EAR.
A Wonderful and Unapproach
able Little Apparatus.
A Mysterious Field for Scien
tific Investigation.
‘•The human ear,” said a scientist
to a Washington Star reporter, “is an
organ the trim inwardness of which
tho physicians have never becu
able to got at. They can examine the
interior of tho eye with ease by throw
ing into ils dark chamber a ray of
light reflected from a little mirror, and
of late they have found it possible
even to see the gray matter of the
brain by looking through tho litll o
canal by which the oplie nerve enters.
The cavity behind the nose they in
spect with the aid of a light placed far
back in the mouth. They have no
difficulty in seeing into the stomach
by an electric apparatus; tho inles
tiues likewise are readily enough in
vestigated and tho bladder also. Hut
tho oar, as to its internal arrange*
incuts, is unapproachable. It is
even impossible to dissect it
satisfactorily after death, for
tho reason that the parts col
lapse ut once when the vital spark
leaves tho body. Tho drum in a liv
ing person burs the way to observa
tion, and, oven though it he pierced,
the winding passages beyond cannot
ho seen through. <hi the other side
of the drum arc tho three little hones
—the mallet, tho anvil and the stirrup
—■which net upon each other as levers.
The drum acts ns a sort of huflcr, and
the mallet, immediately hi contact
with it, conveys the sound waves
through the anvil and the stirrup to
tlm ‘cochlea,’ a spiral shell-shaped
chamber just behind and above the ex
ternal opening of the ear. This hliell
is composed of filaments of the audi
tory nerve, coiled spirally and each
I one erect and waving tremulously in
response to (ho slightest waves of
sound. They carry the sound impres
sions directly to the brain, and so
delicate is their sensitiveness that
J the hearer perceives not only tho dc
i grei of loudness, hilt even the finest
quality of a sound, tho harmony
of ioiics, and the distance from which
it comes. The moment that life be
comes extinct, however, the spiral
shell of nerves collapses and the mar
vellous organ becomes a dead
unsatisfactory to the investigating
anatomist, if only it had been found
possible (o examine tlie internal struc
ture of the living ear aural surgery
might perhaps amount to something
j today. The science of treating the eye
was horn when llcluihollz invented
the simple instrument called the oph
thalmoscope for inspecting its Interior.
There are plenty of ear doctors, and
people pay big prices for I *«• ii wg
treated by them for deafness, hut did
you ever know of a case where the
patient was really much benefited by
| anything he could do? I have known
dozens of deaf persons who have per
sistently sought relief at the hands of
aural specialists, lmt not one of them
lias been cured or materially helped,
simply because science has achieved
hardly anything in that branch of
knowledge.”
A Tail Idea.
Professor U , a Green Mountain
hoy, who stood six feet six inches in
I liis stocking feet, desiring to take pas
| sage for London, went to New York
for that purpose. While standing oil
' the dock, ho got into conversation
with a stranger, asking him by what
route lie had better go on liis contem
plated voyage. “Well,” was tho re
ply, “if I were you, I would put a
loaf of bread on top of my head, and
wade. [Harp r’s .Magazine.
Where the Seare Was.
A little three-year-old hoy was car
rying liis fall fir’s lantern and dropped
it. His father, seeing his frightened
! look, said lo him: “Did it scare you,
Howard?” “Yes,” said he, “my
knees are scared.” Did any older poo.
pie ever feci that way?—[Springfield
Homestead.
Not a Successful Elopement.
“Was your elopement a success?”
“Hardly.”
“What went wrong?”
“Her father telegraphed us not to
return, and all would he forgiven.”—
J [Harper’s liazar.
NUM HER 17
Nearly.
Two stars within it summer sky
drew neuter as the summer sped;
So hold the one, the other shy;
Two proper little stars to wed.
I watehed to see their hridal kiss;
lint autumn brought me grief tind wonder
For on tlie very eve of bliss
My stars began to move asunder.
Nearly! nearly! Vet to wander
lamely o’er ereiitiou’s sea;
Stars that sadly twinkle yonder,
Foolish little stars are ye.
Nearly! ah, nearly.
Two hinging hearts w ith love were gay,
As coming joys they eounted o'er;
File’s path to them a tlowery way.
Where sunrise lingered evermore,
lint then there came a hasty word.
They should have kissed from memory’s
pages;
They love, so says a little bird,
, As broken hearts have loved for ages!
Nearly! nearly! Vet to sever;
<’un your paths not verge again?
llus the day gone down forever?
lluve the blossoms bloomed in vain?
Nearly! ah, nearly!
[Thomas Frost.
11(1 MOIIOIIS.
A detective's allies should be all-eyes
—a lawyer’s are reputed to be all
lies.
When a horse rears it is very much
alive, even if if does seem io he on its
last legs.
After we have called a man a fool it
always pleases us to have him get mad
and prove il.
The distant relative is the one who
is afraid that, yon tire going to borrow
s?> from him.
It is a woman’s nature to pet some
( thing. If slii! lias nothing to pet site is
apt to be a pot herself.
The law breaker may liot boast him
self an early riser, but ho is quite apt
to bo up before the judge.
Anyone who liiih listened to the
groaning of the big fiddle in tins or
, chestru knows what “viols ot wrath’’
means.
Maud George told me last nigh l
llmt I was his little duck. Kthel—lie
probably discovered that you were no
| chicken.
| Mrs. Giubb I hear Mrs. Dadd is go
img to move. Mrs. T)add —Yes, site
moves every six months since she got
her new furniture.
Chappie—Dear girl, why do you
keep me constantly on the rack?
.lenity —f don’t want you to get separa
ted from your hat.
'The best thing about tlio good old
limes is that limy have not got a return
ticket. Tim past can’t come hack if it
; want’s to ever so bad.
“I’m on to you,” Haiti tho drop of
ink to the blotter, in a tone of con
siderable asperity. “Dry up,” said
tlm blotter savagely.
Watte Poor Timmins! I fear bo is
losing his mind. I’otts—Well, there
is one eonsolatlon. When a man loses
his mind he'never misses it.
“I am surprised at, Charley’s squan
dering so much money on a phono
graph.” “Well, I’m not. lie always
did like to hear himself talk.”
Fcrrilt — 1 Io made money tit every
thing Im went into. Merritt —Vos; be
once went into an excavation and re
covered heavy damages from the city.
Miss Lovell (just engaged)—Oh,
George! You are good enough to cat.
Mr. Fearing—Hhl Don’t speak so
loud! IJruno’s just outside the win
dow.
If von waul to hear pleasant things
about yourself don’t go to the man
who is dissatisfied witli himself, and
keep away from the man who is satis
lied with himself.
The tongue is a tell-tale member.
Doctors look at it to see if the patient’s
stomach is out of order, and the gen
eral public frequently learns from it
that the owner’s mind is out of order.
Mother (sternly) -Why did you tell
that lie to tin; teacher? Johnny—To
save somebody from punishment.
Mother (mollified)— I knew there
must be some extenuating circum
stances Who was it you wished to
; save from punishment? Johnny—
i Myself.
Lady Artist (to old laborer)— My
good man. what are those beautiful
waving object* near those trees rival
ing Hu latter themselves in grace and
beauty of outline, making such a beau
t ijfni variety in the landscape and
i .coming to hang ’twixl earth and
heaven? Old Laborer (gruffly)—My
| shirts.