The true citizen. (Waynesboro, Ga.) 1882-current, September 01, 1882, Image 7
MEW EVERY HORNING.
Svery day is a fresh beginning,
Every morn Is the world made new,
You woo are weary of sorrow and sinning,
Here is a beautiful hope for you;
A hope for me *.nd a hope for you..
All the past things are past and over,
The tasks are done and the tears are shed,
Yesterday’s errors let yesterday cover;
Yesterday’s wounds, which smarted and
blel,
Are healed with the healing which night
has shed.
Yesterday now is a part of forever,
Bound up In a sheaf which God holds
tight,
With glad days, and sad days, and bad days
wh ch never
Shall visit us more with their bloom and
their blight,
Their fullness of sunshine or sorrowful
night
Let them go, since we cannot relieve them,
Cannot undo and cannot atone;
God In his mercy forgive, receive them;
Only the new days are our own,
To-day is ours and to-day alone.
Here are the skies all burnished brightly,
Here Is the spent earth all re-born;
Here are the tired limbs springing lightly,
To face the sun and to share with the morn
In the carlsm of dew and the cool of dawn.
Every day is a fresh beginning;
Listen, my soul, to the glad refrain,
And spite of old sorrow and older sinning,
And puzzles forecasted and possible pain,
Take heart with the day, and begin attain.
Susan Coolidok,
Suited For Life.
“No hotel ?” said Mr. Percival
Payne.
“Nothing in the shape of one,” an
swered his friend, Lucius Warden,
with the subdued triumph of one who
announces a startling fact.
“I never heard of such a thing in
my life!” said Payne.
“Nor I neither,” serenely remarked
Warden.
“But how do you account for it?”
demanded the would-be tourist, smit
ing his forehead in despair.
“I don’t account for it at all,” said
Mr. Warden, surveying the nails
which he had just been carefully
trimming with his penknife, “except
that nobody knows anything about
the place as yet. There’s a factory—
wall'paper, I believe, or something of
that sor£—and a cigar shop and a beer-
shop and two threaci-and-needle stores,
and apostofflce where the mails come
twice a week ; and there’s the Magal-
loway river, all carpeted over with
water-lilies, and half a d< zen glorious
little trout-streams running into it,
and the finest bit of scenery you ever
saw. But—there’s no hotel!”
“But where’s a fellow to stay ?”
helplessly demanded Payne.
“Get an outfit and camp out, as I
did,” said Warden, cheerfully. “A
blanket, a canvas tent, with pegfe and
loops, a little smudge of bran or pine-
needles, to keep the mosquitoes off at
nigh^ and—”
“But I don’t enjoy camping out,”
vehemently remonstrated Payne. “It
is all very well for those that like it,
but I’m not of that sort. I like your
good walls, a feather pillow and regu
lar meals served three times a day,”
“Well, then, look here,” said War
den. “Go to the Widow Buck’s. She
takes boarders now and then.”
“Who is the Widow Buck ?” asked
Payne.
“That I don’t Know,” replied his
friend.
“And where does sift live?”
“There you have me again.”
“Man alive! are you crazy ?” de
spairingly questioned Payne. "How
am I to find her?”
“Inquire,” calmly responded Mr.
Warden, as he shut up his knife and
replaced it in his vest pocket. “Go
to Mailzie Ford—11 A. M. train-nstage-
coach—through in one day. Ask for
the Widow Buck’s! Bless my heart!
notning in the wide world could be
easier. I always heard that people got
good fare there and comfortable beds.
And Mailzie Ford is a perfect little
paradise when you once get there!”
“Well,” sa\fi Payne, dejectedly, “it
seems a wild-goose chase, but I've a
mind to try it. A man can but come
back again.”
It wag rather early In the season for
the conventional operation known to
the American public as “summering,”
but Perolval Payne, being a bachelor
of independent fortune and cultivated
tastes, felt that he could do as he
pleased. And it was rather a luxury
to anticipate the first mad rush of
travel, when all the teats are engaged,
the cozy corners taken, and the most
desirable points of observation
usurped.
So he packed his valise, did up his
fldiiug-taokle, laid in a great store of
crayons and' sketching-paper, and
started for the far northern wilderness
of Mailzie Fold.
Of course the train was late—trains
always are late—and it was 4 o’clock
in the afternoon when Mr. Payne
found himself perched up in an open
box-wagon, alongside of two trunks, a
package of cod fish, mail-hag, and a
pretty girl, with eyea as soft as black
pools of wa'er, and one of those odd,
fringing hats of black straw, all cov
ered with loops and ribbon, that make
pec pie look so picturesque.
“Where do we meet the stage?”
said Mr. Payne, as he settled himself
so as to inconvenience his prttty
neighbor as little as possible.
The driver stared at him.
“This ’ere’s the stage!” said he.
“Git up, sorrel!”
Mr. Payne staved.
“But stages have tops,” said he.
“This ’ere stage don’t,” said the
driver.
It was rather a trying situation-
steep up-hill part of the way and steep
down-hill the rest, with the co< fish
and the mail bag alternately tumbling
into Mr. Payne’s lap, and the pretty
girl laughing in her sleeve at his em
barrassment.
“I’m very rude, I know,” said she,
“but if you’d just tie that codfish to
the back of the wagon with your fish
ing line it wouldn’t trouble you so
much ”
“A good idea!” said Payne,briskly.
“Thanks, very much for suggesting
it!”
“I’ve traveled over this road before,”
said the pretty girl, laughing.
“Are you going to Mailzie Ford?”
said Mr. Payne, with a sudden gleam
of animation.
“No,” said the pretty girl. “To
Catley’s Dam.”
“Perhaps you know something about
Mailzie Ford ?” hazarded our htro
‘Oh, yes!” said the nymph with
the dark eyes. “It’s a lovely place !
I used to live there before I went into
the factory at Catley’s.”
“Doyou know the Widow Buck?”
aHked Payne, with interest.
“Very well,” nodded the pretty
girl.
“I’m going there to look.for board,”
■aid Mr. Payne.
“1 hope you’ll be suited,” said the
girl.
And then they began to talk about
the tall, blue-crested mountains, which
were beginning to close in around
them.
The dewy-eyed damsel had read
Longfellow; she knew all about
Thoreau ; she was even “up” in It is-
kin, and she expressed herself with
grace and Bp rit, which set Mr Payne
to wondering if all the Maine girls
were equally cultivated and beautiful
And then the codfish tumbled down
again and had to be tightened anew,
and by that time they had come to a
house in the midst of a lonely belt of
woods, which the driver said was
“Catley’s Dim,” upon which the
pretty girl di-appeared into the purple
twilight, and Mr. Payne and the cod
fish went on, sorrowful, much jolted
and alone.
A glimpse of the beautiful Ma' allo-
way river by moonlight; the cry o£ a
wild-bird in the woods ; the noise of
hidden cascades; a blur of lighted
windows, which the driver said was
thefaotory; down a blind lane, end
checking the tir«d horses at a one
storied stone house behind a wall of
cedar trees, and then the Jehu eriea
out:
“Now, then ! Here we be! Widow
Buck’s!”
Mr. Payne got stiffly out, and helped
to unload the various paraphernalia of
travel which belonged to him—all of
them by this time considerably flavor
ed with salt codfish'.
“Perhaps you bad better wait,” said
he, as the driver turned around and
chirruped to his horse.
“What foi ?” demanded the man.
“In case Mrs. Buck should not be
able to accommodate me, or—”
“Oh, it’s all right!” said the driver.
“She’ll take you in. Naomi would
have told you, else.”
And away he drove, leaving our
hero alore in the spectral moonlight,
with a pile of luggage at his feet, and
a gaunt dog smelling at the skirts of
his coat.
“Who’s Naomi?” said Mr. Payne,
addressing the moon. “And what
would she have told me?”
He raised an old-fashioned brass
knocker that hung at the door and
rattied it briskly. The gaunt dog,
aroused to a sense of his duty, left ofl^
snufflugand began to bark. Presently,
a tall, thin woman, with a red pocket
handkerohit-f tied on her head, with
a kerosene lamp in her hand, opened
the door.
“Oh,” said she, peering sharply at
him, “you’re the young man from the
citv, are you?”
With the initiative thus taken out
of his hands, Mr. Payne could only in
cline his head.
“All them traps yourn ?” demanded
the Widow Buck, abruptly.
“Yes, madam,” Mr. Payne ad
mitted.
“Hiimph !” said the widow. “’Pears
to me it’spurty tol’able cheeky of you,
milter, to take it for granted you’d be
asked to stay J”
“1 thought, madame—”
“I’m a-talking now,” said the
widow, sharply. “To begin right
straight at the beginning, we don’t
know anything about you. You may
he a bank burglar or a counterfeiter,
for all we know !”
“My nferences, madame—”
“Yes, I know,” said the widow.
“ \nd them very references is most
likely forgtd. But I’m willin’ to he
teasonahle. How old be you?”
And Mr. Psyne, secretly wondering
if this was the way they managed
thing! in Maine, answered meekly :
“Two-and-thirty !”
“Ever been married before?’
sharply questioned the widow.
“Certainly not, madame! I am a
single man!” answered Mr Payne,
with a justifiable spark of indignation
in his manner.
“Any business?” went on his cate
chist.
“None, madame.”
“Well, I like that!” said the widow,
with a scornful sniff. “Like your im
pudence to come here and own to such
a disgrace as that! Expect to live on
me, he> ?”
“Madame!” gasped poor Mr,
Pa' ne.
“How d’ye suppose you’re ever
going to keep my Naomi, even if I
allowed >ou to marry her?” sharply
went on the woman, “which I shan’t
do, and don’t you think it! S ie don’t
care for you, anyway! When she
heard vou was coming she made up
her mind to stop off at C ttley’s Dam,
just to get rid of the sight of you.
There ! So just p'Ck up your traps
and go back ag’in the way you come!
You won’t Dever be a son-in law of
mine!”
But while Widow Buck was volubly
uttering these, last glib sentences a
Hg’.t began to dawn on Mr. Payne’s
obscured brain.
“I think, Mrs Buck,” said he, “that
you must be laboring under a little
misapprehension. My name is Percival
Payne. I am from Boston. I was rec
ommended here, as an eligible board
ing place, by Mr. Warden, of 15 Pep
permint place.”
Mrs. Buck nearly dropped her lamp
in consternation.
*“ Well, I never!” said she, instantly
flinging the door wide open. “Please
to walk in, sir. I’ll send the boy out
arter your trunks and things in half a
miuute. I beg your pardon, I’m sure,
for mistaking you for Peleg Driggs,
from Lowell, as was cornin’ here after
my daughter Ndomi ! She works in
the Lowell mills,Ntomldoes. Tothink
how ever I could have made such a
blunder! Do walk in, sir!”
And Mr. Payne was promptly intio-
duced to a delightful little “interior”
of red carpet, round table spread for
tea, shaded lamplight, and a fire of
logs burning on an open hearth to
keep out the damp of the summer
evening.
Afier 10 o’clock, when the wearied
traveler was in bed, in a pretty little
room where there was an eight-day
clock in a cherry wood case, and a
carpet made of woven rags, he heard
the opening and shutting of doors be
low, the clear sound of a familiar
voice—the voice of his black-eyed
traveling companion.
“Well, mother, did he come?” she
asked.
“Peleg didn’t come,” said the
Widow Buck. “But a young gentle
man from the city came. And don’t
you b’lieve, Naomi, I took him for
Peleg, and I peppered away at him
well J”
“Oh, mother, what will he think?”
cried the softer young voice.
“I asked his pardon, of course,”
said the old lady. “And he took it all
as a joke.”
And when Peleg Driggs himself the
next day put in an appearance, he
was summarily dismissed. While
Mr. Perolval Payne and the fair Naomi
were sitting by a trout pool in the cool
woods below; for Naomi knew all
about the haunts aud nooks of the
neighborhood and handled a fLhing
pole most skillfully.
Mr. Payne liked Mailzie Ford and
staged there all summer. Aud as
there were several hoarders in the old
stone house Miss Naomi couoluded
not to return to factory life in the
Lowell mills but to stay and help her
mother with the housework ; and
when autumn came she was engaged
to Mr, Percival Payne.
“Tue sweetest wild flower in all the
Northern woods,” he wrote, enthusi
astically, to his friend Warden.
Warden went up to Mailzie Ford.
He was introduced to Miss Nacmi.
He agreed with his friend.
"She’s a little jewel,” said he.
“You’re a lucky fellow, Payne. But I
didn’t know when you wrote me that
you were so well suited with the ac
commodations here—”
“That I was suiting myself for life ?”
interrupted Payne, “But you see that
such was the fact ”
The “Combing of Waves.
All who have watched waves break
ing on toe seashore have probably no
ticed the furrowed or “combed”
appearance of the back of a wave as it
curls over. This “combing” appears
suddenly, beginning at the advancing
edge of the crest and spreading back
ward. In small waves a foot or so in
height and of long extended front,
such as are seen in shallow water, the
crest, which rolls down the front of
the wave, is at first smooth and even
while the back of the wave is also
smooth ana unfurrowed, but the edge
of the crest suddenly becomes crenated
and almost simultaneously the “comb
ing” appears on the back of the wave,
traveling rapidly backward from the
crenated edge. A considerable length
of the wave appears Jo be thus affected
at almost the same instant. In larger
waves the crest falls rather than rolls
upon the concave front, but it suddenly
becomes uneven and is often fringed
with a row orro vs of drops, the “comb
ing” appearing at the same instant.
“It is well known,” says a wiiter in
Nature, “that a long cylinder of liquid
is unstable and will, if left toitself,
at < nee split into a row of equal, equi
distant drops—the splitting being ef
fected by a constriction of the cylinder
in certain places and a bulging out in
others. Again, if a mass of liquid is
bound by an edge whose surface is ap
proximately a portion of a long cylin
der, there is good reason for supposing
that this cylindrical edge will be sub
ject to similar laws of stability, aud
that it will tond to cleave in the same
way, the surface being forced in in
certain places and out in others. Now
a wave’s crest presents such a cylin
drical edge. It will, therefore, of itself,
cleave in the way described, and the
flow of water will thereby be hindered
at the constrictions and aided at the
place of bulging out. Thus lines of
easiest flow will be set up, which in
their turn will determine the furrows
on the back of the wave. The fringe
of drops is due to the splitting in a
similar manner of the cylindrical jets
shot out from the places of bulging,
where the flow is aided. Indeed, much
or the*setting at the edge of a wave is,
I think, attributable to the breaking
up of such jels in this manner. The
regularly toothed edge of a spot of can
dle-wax that lias fallen on a cold object
affords in a permanent form a familiar
illustration of the same action.”
Scenes During the Bombard
ment.
M. Goussio, manager of the Anglo-
Egyptian Bank, who with his wife
remained in Alexandria during the
bombardment by the British fleet, re
lates the following incidents: The
whole night long the native population
had poured, screaming with terror,into
the interior. At five minutes past 7
on the 11 ch came the first shot from the
frigates. The excitement of the popu
lation and the volume of the emigra
tion instantaneously increased. At 9
the soldiers began parading the town,
assuring themselves by search whether
the Europeaus wereiu communication
with the Admiral by telephone or
telegraph or not. An officer, accom
panied by several soldiers, mounted on
the terraces of the houses and cut the
wires of the telephones. One of the
sol liers we saw carried a hatchet cov
ered with blood. My berbery told me
he had just assassinated an English-
inanwhom he found in communication
with the Admiral This was probably
the young French telegraph clerk who
sought refuge in the E istern Telegraph
Company’s offices. The bombardment
continued all day. All day the popu
lation were fleeing with fr glffeued
faces. On the 12th the flight of the
inhabitants continued in even greater
numbers. In the afternoon the exodus
from the town had become general.
At three o’clock the soldiers gave the
signal for pillaging. As on the llih
of June, they began by opeuing ihe
doors of the stores and dividiug the
merchandise which they found. Sol
diers, under the direction of the offl jers
and superior officers, divided the booty
in a fashion disgraceful, but at the
same time having its comical side.
Pieces of calico were cut into pieces
and handed round, while albums,
watches and fancy goods were carried
off and frequently pulled to pieces,
after having been for a few moments
in the hands of men who did not un
derstand their use. The officers fre
quently carried two or more guns, so
as to le^ve free hand. 1 ! to the soldiers
who were carrying off the booty. A
colonel mounted on a horse had a pair
of new shoes under his arm another
threw down and broke into athousand
pieces a clock wh ich he found too heavy
to carry.
The property destroyed was of great
er value than that which was actually
carried away. As soon as a shop was
empty the paper and all the debris
that could be hastily collected were
thrown into It; then small explosive
pellets were added, and in a moment
the whole was in a blaze. At five
o’clock the Egyptian heroes, loaded
with booty instead of laurels, retreate
in the greatest disorder. Since to
o’clock in the afternoon the bowij
or house porters, had received the
d’ordre to desert the houses wl
they guarded. By 6 o’clock all
European quarter was in flames, at
the town presented the appearance
one huge furnace. Here and there
could see men of sinister appears
and some disbanded soldiers'
like silent shadows into the opei
and going out loaded with plj
having fed the fire with the ini
ble material with which the]
provided. In order to defend i
which the fire inclosed in
mentarily becoming smt
bound to make rounds in
street all night and fire
diaries and marauders,
the immediate neighborly
served clear. During the'
families came in and detml
ter. In the morning of
finding that no soldiers werect!
to relieve us or save the town, I
mined to go to them. We set ouf
gether, some seventy persons,
fipt the numerous women and chj
into the middle of our troop, suri
ed them with Greens and Mont
grins, and theu all started for thej
tom House. On our way
five people m the same condition
ourselves j >ined us. The 105 marched,
without encountering opposition, over
and through masses of burning rulna*
We ourselves broke open the doors of
the city. We seized some abandoned
boats, which were fortunately at hand,
and pulled ourselves to Admiral Sey
mour, who received us with kindness
on board the Helicon.
Farm and Wor i
WV9
Pennsylvania sheep are being
shipned in large lots to the West for
breeding purposes.
Iowa has nearly 1,000,000 oowa,
valued at $27 per head, or a total of
$27 000,000.
Full maturity of the body is neces
sary to a perfect development! ef.tljiL
milk glands.
A Clarion oounty (Pa.) farmer
sheared 56 pounds of wool fr/ \ four
young sheep this season. /
A single scupperaong grape-vine
sometimes yields one hundred bushelv
of grapes in a single season.
A farmer in Maine reports the ai^'
rival of an insect that feeds upoq m
eggs of the potato beetle. I ’ ;•
Analysis of green rye shows lt*0 riiH
nearly equal to clover for fodd®rj and
better than grass in blossom. V !
By a test of the cloasst average iHSrlt,
it requires four bushels and forty-Sevan
and a quarter pounds of whegl to
make a barrel of flour.
Seven mules were killed by light
ning on a farm in Missouri. Th
were some distance apart, an
lightning followed a barbed
fence.
Hogs that run in the orohar
ing up the windfalls and, occasional
good apples, never have the hog
cholera, which is another proof of the
value of a fruit diet.
In the year 1816 wheat sold for
oents per bushel while woolen bl
keta were worth from $10 to $
pair. Now wheat is worth $1 5
blankets from $3 to $10.
Beduce as far as you can t
of fenciug upon your farm, j
wfticb is necessary to Keep up
substantial order. Fences at b
dead oapital, a great and cons
reourrlng expense.