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the mercury.
, „,i ns socnml- class matter at the Sanders-
El,tf, ° ".IloPostofflce, April 27, 1830.
gjndcrsvlllcj Washington Comity, Ga.
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Truss Casn.
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April 3, 1880.
B. D. EVANS,
Attorney at Law,
SANDEItSVILLE, GA.
April 3, 1880.
DR. WM, RAWLINGS,
Physician & Surgeon,
SANDEItSVILLE, GA.
Office at Snndersvillo Hotol.
April 10, 1880.
E. A. SULLIVAN,
NOTARY PUBLIC,
SANDERSVILLE, GA.
Office in tho Court-houso.
0. H. ROGERS,
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Sandersvillo, Ga.
11ompt attention given to all business,
Ollico in northwest wing of Court-house.
May 4, 1880.
C. C. BROWN,
Attorney at Law,
Sandersvillo, Ga.
Sandorsvillo, Ga.
Do Youi’ Heat.
Havo you failed to-day, Good Heart ?
’Tis no eauso for sorrow.
Try again;"the clouds may pari—
Perhaps may part to-morrow.
If you are a brave strong man,
You will do tho best you enn.
Do your best, atid leave tho rest;
Bettor may come to-morrow.
Ilavo you lost your land or gold ?
That’B no eauso for sighing;
Ouo bright hour doth oft Infold
Many a year’s denying.
Bo not weary or downcast—
" Pationco holds tho gato at last.”
Do your best, and loavo tho roBt,
And never give up your trying.
ltich or poor, bo all a man;
Wear no golden fetter.
Do tho vory best yon can,
And you’ll soon do hotter.
Evory day you do your host
Isa vantago for tho roBt.
Don’t complain; ovory gain
Is making your host still bettor.
HER LAST SERIAL.
In nn extremely small and plainly-
furnished room, located in tlio out
skirts of tlio city of P—, sat n pale,
norvous-looking woman, bending over a
writing-desk. She was apparently about
thirty, and earlier in life had unques
tionably boen vory handsome, for evon
now there remained traces of beauty
upon the sweet, sad face.
A little table stood by her sido, on
which lay a pile of manuscript, to
which from time to time she added
another carefully numbered sheet.
That she wns not a novice in tho
business, the legibly-written and care
fully-punctuated pages showed at a
glance.
Sho threw down her pen at last with
a sigli, and clasped her slender lingers
across hor forehead, as if in intense
one human heart can understand an
other, sho felt that he loved her but
sho knew that her uncle disapproved
oi him, because his fortune was yob io
bo carved out by his own hand, although
she did not know of tho premature in
formation that Mr. Elverton lmd given
of her marriage.
pain.
Special attention given to tho collection ol
L'lnims.
''j 1 * l’™ctico in tho Stato and United States
Office in Court-house.
H. N. H0LLIFIELD,
Physician and Surgeon,
Ollier next door to Mrs,
1010 (l » Harris Stroot.
Bayno’s millinery
DR. J. B. ROBERTS,
Physician and Surgeon,
Sandorsvillo, Ga.
ii.. ‘; v consulted at his offico on Haynes
, I t!, ° Masonio Lodge building, from 9
mi. , 1 !’• m -, and from 3 to 5 p. m.; during
Ms rosidonco on Church Stroot,
' n , 0 .i Professionally ongagod.
J'lion i
April :i,‘ 1880.'’
ITh?.?f s ’hnedSteel DIIIM, POINTS.
t beautifully, and instead of crowding
. - ieh roarfl, scatter It 3V, 4, and 6 ini. j
’InKTnm 1 standing wider apart, have mote ROOM
* iu bTOOL, derive inure nourishment from the soil,
a become more vigorous, produce better developed
average heads. Send for Illustrated Pamphlet
ruithTcaUmoniat* J.A.J0NE8, WILMINGTON, DEL
t ngo, and I
s drilled
r against/or/y-
v»i"uug. II. CLAYTON,
" i got L.yu, 011 ! 11 R** 11 * i'f Middleton, Dal,, and Farmer.
*lth your Pnim! 11 !,* “f® more wheat, where I drilled
,eat i «howiug 'you no'i 1,10 old «tyle. 1 gave them a fair
"JOSHUA CLAYTON. Jn„ Ml. Pleasant. Del.
"I cannot write," she murmured,
' 1 with this blinding headache. I shall not
liuvo my story finished in time, and how
will my rent bo paid without, or how
shall I get broad and clothes for my
children ?" •
A dreary prospect surely, if this woro
her only resource. A slight, dolicuto
woman as sho was, sho looked little
able to cope successfully with the ob
stacles that must bo mot by every one in
tho battle of life; and for children too,
for at that moment tho door flew open
and two tiny girls, of four and sovon
years, came hounding gleefully in.
"May we come,mamma!" said Irma,
I he eldest of tho two, as she nestled up
to her mother’s side, whilo Bessie im
pulsively sprang into hor mother’s lap,
and cuddled tho pretty, golden head
against Mrs. Gerry’s neck, with the
artlessness of happy childhood.
Writing was over for a little whilo at
least, and Mrs. Gerry gave herself up to
tho “children’s hour,” with a weary
sigh, as she thought of tho night work
boforo her.
The long, sultry, summer day was
nearly over, and after caressing her dar
lings for a short time the motlior arose
and prepared their supper.
Soon afterward, putting them to bed,
she resumed her weary task.
Could Robert Erskine havo seen her
as she sat there, toiling so earnestly for
her children, he would novor havo ro
cognized in her the beautiful Ethel Wil
bur, tho girl to whom ten years before
he had given all tho love of his proud
sensitive nature.
Time and trouble had wrought sad
changes in the face he once thought so
fair.
She had loved him far better than he
knew, but she was the heiress of a rich,
old bachelor uncle, imperious to the
last degree, who, discovering an attach
ment springing up between his niece
and Robert Erskine, had forbidden him
the house, telling him too that she was
about to become the wife of a rich mu
Robert, it is true, was only a printer;
but he was ambitious, and was already
receiving a good salary.
He was of Scotch parentage, and pos
sessing the indomitable energy and de
cision characteristic, of his race, was
likely to make a success of his future
Mr. Elverton, however, could brook
no thwarting of his cherished plans
He had selected the future husband
for his niece, and he expected her, with
the utmost confidence in his superioi
wisdom, to yield gracefully and obedi
ently in her acceptance of the suitor
whom ho had chosen.
A man fifteen years her senior, stem,
reserve and incapable of arousing the
emotional part of her nature, but pos
sessed of unlimited wealtn-a powerful
attraction to Mr. Elverton-together
with a shrewd business capacity that
served him well in the accumulation of
his princely fortune.
Ethel’s uncle alternately petted and
scolded her, until in sheer desperation
she yielded to his wishes, and became
the wife of Edward Gerry
whom he had selected for her,
The love she had felt for i.
kine she buried deep down in her heart,
so deep it could never bo resurrected,
she thought; and he, after learning that
she was about to many another man,
had left that part of the country.
There had been no declaration of his
love to Ethel W il 11 J
the man
. *> vl Ers.
veil
Edward Gerry loved his young and
beautiful wife as much, perhaps, as
such natures as liis are capable of lov
ing ; but his life was absorbed by his
business, and so engrossing wns it that
ho saw comparatively little of hor, and
their princoly homo was to hor literally
a cage with gilded bars.
She had no desire to go into Society,
and strovo to fill that void in hor heart
that should have been occupied by a
husband’s love with literary pursuits.
As time passed on an insatiable greed
for gold seemed to take possession of
Edward Gerry, and oven the two lovoly
children that wore sent to cheer their
monotonous lives failed to stir tho
turbid depths of his sordid nature; but
with the young wife and mothor it was
different—something to love and live
for; and lifo seemed henceforth more
endurable.
Five years of wedded life with Ed
ward Gorry—weary years, too, and thon
ho wns removed by death ; and Ethel
did not affect a grief sho could not foel
for tho stern, cold-hearted man.
Sho wont back to her uncle, who was
growing more feeble and cnpricious
than over. When her husband’s affairs
were settled, it was found that ho had
been speculating largely in stocks, and-
of his immonso fortune tliero remained
literally nothing; still Ethel had no
pecuniary fears.
Hor undo would care for hor and tho
children, for tho old man loved tho
little onos dearly, and sho had no idea
of want.
Two years moro; two years that had
glidod by peacefully ns a quiet river,
and thon came another change in hor
life.
Just such n change as death with his
arbitrary power can make in any of our
lives.
Mr. Elverton died suddenly and Ethel
Gerry mourned sincerely ; for if ho had
at times been somewhat exacting, still
sho knew he had been to her a kind
friend.
Sho was not prepared for tho rovola-
tions that a settlement of his estate
brought to light.
Ho too had lost all in some luckless
venture, and sho found herself alone
and penniless with two little children
to be clothed and fed.
Out of tho furniture given her by her
uncle sho saved enough of tho plainest
to furnish two rooms comfortably on a
back street in tlio city suburbs. Tho
remainder she sold at an immonso sac
rifice, but it brought hor a little ready
money, which would last, sho hoped,
until she found some employment.
Sho was highly educated, and might
have taught, but sho could not leave
tho children. Sho kept her piano, hoping
to obtain music scholars ; she adver
tised ; sho went out and applied at nu
merous places, but she was invariably
asked for references and recommenda
tions, which it was impossible to give,
till at last she gave it up and tried to
obtain fine sewing. Of this she found
a limited supply, but the remuneration
was a mere pittance.
In tho meantime expenses went on
and daily her little hoard of money
dwindled away, till finally she was com
pelled to sacrifice her costly piano, her
landlady considerately offering to take
it in payment for the rent of the next
three months. Ethel redoubled her
exertions, but a pain in her side and a
hacking cough made it evident that
sewing must be relinquished.
There remained still a dernier resort
—her pen.
She had in her girlish days dashed
off occasionally a bright little sketch
for some magazine or weekly, which
had been favorably received.
Just for the fun of the thing then,
but now it would be in sober earnost.
She set herself to work and wrote a
charming little story that was sent to
the publisher of a journal, who was suf
ficiently impressed by its merits to send
her three dollars with tho hope that ho
should hear from her again.
Her little venture a success ! Why
sho was on the high road to fortune!
True, three dollars would not go very
far; but sho would write another and
yet another. And the night after re
ceiving tho money she retired, but not
to sleep, and laid tho plots of a half-
dozen different sketches, which at three
dollars each would pay her month’s
rent besides buying a half ton of coal.
The morning came at last—a dull,
lead-colored day in March, with a
piercing east wind and a monotonous
drizzle of rain against the window.
Never mind; she could write. Her
head was not very clear, and the vari
ous plots of the night had resolved
themselves into a chaotic mass; but a
cup of coffee would olear up her con
fused brain.
After breakfast, devising some new
amusement for keeping tbe children
quiet, she began to write.
Strange I but her pen seemed to
drag itself along, and the thoughts that
seemed so brilliant in the darkness
were dull ami commonplace.
Sho wroto and re-wrote. Page after
pago wns tossed aside, and sho rose to
prepare dinner"with hor bond dizzy and
throbbing with pain, feeling discour
aged and realizing faintly that author
ship wjs not merely a pastimo but that
there was work in it.
Still she would not givo up, but
spent tlio whole afternoon in hor un
successful attempt, and retired that
night seeing things dressed in sober
gray instead of rose color.
These two days were a fair sample of
the next six months, and no doubt
many authors havo a similnr experience.
The second skotcli sho wroto was re
turned as lacking incident and plot.
“What wo want,” wroto tho pub
lisher, “is a sonsationnl love story of
pure tone.”
Ethel Gerry wroto another—highly
emotional and tragic in its conclusion,
and this was doclinod hccauso tho
character of an outcast—an unfortunate
figured in its pages. True to lifo and
love, but it shooked tho publisher’s idoa
of propriety.
Toor Ethel was in dismay.
Who had reckoned on tlio proceeds of
this story to buy food for tho onsuing
week, and sho had no other resource.
In hor groat need she sent it off to
tho publislior of nn oxtremoly sensa
tional paper, and received a little note
of approval with a crisp flve-dollar bill.
Occasionally sho sent an article to
some other journal, hut it was oftener
returned than otherwise, as not avail
able, with a courteous little regret, and
sho was most successful with the pub
lisher who accepted hor first story.
Her stylo was good—a pure, moral
tone pervading hor writing, logothor
with n fascinating originality that gave
popularity to anything coming from her
poti.
During tho summer tho publisher on
gagod hor to writo a serial for his maga
zine. and so much time had been given
to it that hor monoy was nearly gono.
Almost unconsciously slio had
wrought into tho web cf tho story inci
dents of her own lifo as tho woof; and
feeling Intensely, sho had given to it a
pathos that added unusual interest to
its delineations.
Sho worked patiently, and when it
was finished sent it off; and, completely
prostrated, mentally and physically,
found herself incapable of oxortion.
Sho had, in reality, been living over
her own past, and though it was in tho
tho long-ago reminiscences of thoes
happy days had crowded up with such
intense vividness that it had exhausted
tlio last remnant of strength.
A week musFelapse before she could
hope to hear from hor serial.
Even then it might prove a failure.
What would beoomo of them if it
should ?
Puzzling her weary brain over this
unsettled problem as she was reclining
upon tho lounge in tho afternoon, the
carrier’s well-known stop was heard,
and a moment later Bessie ran in with
a letter for mamma.
Mrs. Gerry recognized the publisher’s
handwriting, and grew faint with appre
hension. A rejected manusoript, doubt
less; and sho tore open the wrapper
with nervous haste.
It had boen only two days since sho
sent it away.
A little note, more brief than she had
over receivod, from him, and publish
ers are renowned for their brevity, dated
that morning:
“Deab Madam: Shall come out to
P on the five express, on business
regarding the serial.
“ Truly yours,
- “ R. E. GnAHAM.”
“What can it mean?” and Mrs.
Gerry made an effort to rise, but was so
faint and dizzy she sank back hopelessly
among the cushions, and gave a glance
about tho disordered room.
Only an hour before the five train
was due.
“Children, pick up your playthings,’
she said, wearily. “ The publisher is
coming, and will bo bore soon.”
“Mamma, tho man you wrote the
Tories for?” interrogated little Bess,
tugging away with might and main to
right up a huge chair that had been her
carriage all tho afternoon.
“Yes, darling, and you must be very
good,” tho mother said.
“ I will if lie brings you some money
to buy me some shoes that ain’t weared
out,” Bessie answered, with shocking
disregard to the rulos of grammar; and
a little later, when a gentleman was
seen coming up the walk, Bessie
bounded down to meet bim, with the
question:
“Is you tho man mamma writes
Tories for?”
“I believe I am,” ho responded, and,
in token of hor fellowship for him, she
slipped her chubby little hand into his,
and escorted him straight to the sitting-
room without a word of warning; while,
as the door opened, Ethel Gerry looked
up to behold a face she had not seen for
ten long years.
She did not faint, though she grew
Yery pale as Mr. Graham came forward,
and taking both her handB in his warm
clasp, looked down into the pale, care
worn face with all of the old-time ten-
ilern si in his dark, expressivo eyes.
“ Ethel Wilbur ! can it be possible ?’
he said, as, sitting down by hor side he
took Bessie upon his knee, with one
arm encircling Irma, whilo ono of Mrs.
Gerry’s hands was still retained in his
own, a willing prisonor.
Mutual explanations followed.
Robert Graham had never known tho
name of Ethel’s husband. Ho had never
Buspoctod that it was tho woman whom
ho once loved who was writing such
delicious little sketches for his journal
and magazine, until ho received the
serial, containing so mnoh of hor own
lifo that ho could not bo mistakofi.
Ethel Gorry could not understand
how Robert Erskine and Robert
Graham woro ono.
An uncle in Scotland had bequeathed
to him his immense fortune on condition
of his assuming his name-this ac
counted for it; and bo, ono after another,
tho mysteries enveloping the past years
woro unraveled.
Somehow tho business regarding the
serial had not boon reached when it was
timo for the publisher to return to tho
city, and little Bessie, seeing no monoy
fortcoming, ventured to ask if ho wasn’t
going to pay mamma for that “Tory?”
That serial was the last ono ovor writ
ten by Ethel Gorry, for sho soon became
tho wife of Robert E. Graham, tho pub
lisher, and in gaining tho loro of a
noble-hearted man, gladly relinquished
forovor hor prospect of litorary farao,
contented to shine as tho bright guid
ing star of tho publisher’s quiet homo.
tOMEXTO VS MATTERS.
The census of 1881 in England re
veals the startling fact thnt a decrease
in tho population of rural parishes in
tho west of the country is going on with
a rapidity which threatens almost entire
depopulation. Towns aro becoming vil
lages and villages hamlets, whilo ham
lets aro passing out of existence.
The number of artesian wells in Now
York city steadily and rapidly increases,
something like forty having been sunk
during tho past yoar. Their depths
rango from 200 to 2,000 feet, and tho
flow ranges from 1,000 to 2,000 barrels
a dny. These wells aro used mainly by
brewers and other largo manufacturers
who require a large amount of water,
and who find tho artesian well water
economical both from its cheapness and
its coolness, which enables thorn to dis
pense with much ice. Usually tho wells
aro vortical. In one instanco sovon
holes wore drilled in different directions
and at different angles, only ono being
vertical. Tho boring was carried to a
depth of about 200 feet on the average,
the longost at an anglo being 457 foot
doep. Water was struck in all the bor
ings, and an abundant supply has been
obtained continuously.
How Cuttle are Killed for Xew York
Market.
In the city of Now York there are two
largo abattoirs or slafighter-housos. On
tho oast side of the city tliero is a col
lection of sovoral of those establish
ments, which occupy the blooks bound
ed by East Eorty-thirl street, First
avenue, East Forty-sixth street, and
tho river front. The total nurabor of
beef cattle slaughtered here last yoar
amounted to about 100,000 head.
At tho foot of West Fortieth stroot is
what is called tho West Side Abattoir,
which is tho largest establishment of
tho kind in the city. Its dimensions
are 125 feot in length on Fortieth street,
and 300 foot on Thirty-ninth street,
with a uniform depth of 200 foot. Tho
annual kill of beef cattle hero is 2,200
head per week, or about 115,000 year.
At Jersey City, across the river from
Now York, is situated another large cs-
tablishmontol his kind. It is not only
a slaughter-house, but tho receiving
point for the greater portion of the
cattle coming into Now York. It is
very favorably situated, being not more
than a mile by water from any of tho
European steamship wharves, andcattlo
for export can bo shipped by boat from
the abattoir direct to tho sido of tho
vessel. For this reason it is tho principal
place from which the livo stock export
traffic is done. Tho stock yard covers
several acres, and is divided into largo
pens, partly roofed ovor, with water
troughs and hay racks running nlong
the sides. They afford accommodation
for about 3,000 cattle, and tho charge
per head for each animal entering the
yard, no matter how long or short may
bo the period of its stay, is forty cents.
During tho timo they are kept in tho
yard tlioy aro fed ot the owner’s expense.
Tho slaughter-house proper is a building
250 feet front by 300 deep, but with tlio
offices and other additions tho buildings
cover an area of 270 by 390 feet.
The cattle coming into Now York
avorage from 700 pounds to 800 pounds
in weight, and at ton cents per pound,
about the usual figure, bring 870 to 880
eaoli on the hoof. The method of kill
ing is essentially tho same In all the
New York slaughter-houses. A rope is
fastened around tho animal’s hind legs,
and ho is lifted off his feet by means of
a block and tackle, so that he hang
with his head downward, and jjist touch
ing tho floor. His throat is then cut
with a large, sharp knife, and his death
is speedy and comparatively free from
pain. Three workmeu, a dresser and
two assistants, can kill, flay, cut lip
and dress an animal in about twenty
minutes, and they slaughter eighteen to
twenty head daily, for which they get
fifty-nine cents per head.
After the slaughtering for the day is
at an end all tho buildings are flushed
out with water pumped from the river
by steam, and then carefully mopped
over, so that no sign of refuse of any
kind is perceptible—in fact, the floors,
which are laid with an incline from the
sides to a gutter in the middle of the
houses, are as clean and white as the
decks of a ship after they have been
holystoned.—Shoe and Leather Reporter.
Tho troubles of tho unfortunate and
persecuted Count, Yon Aruim, the Gor-
man diplomatist, are ended at last. His
death is announced at Nieo, France. At
tlio conclusion of tho Franco-Pmssinn
war in 1870-1, ho was appointed an am
bassador to arrange tho final terms of
peace. In that connection ho was
accused of having betrayed tho interests
of his government, offending his om-
peror and insulting Bismarck, for which
he was tried by the high court of Ger
many, found guilty and sentenced to
live years’ oxile. Count Von Arnim was
fifty-six years of ago. Ho was a mom-
bor of one of tho oldest and most es-
toomod families of Prussia. In private
lifo ho wns highly thought of, being
polished and courtoous, and ranking
high in literaiy and philosophical cir
cles. Ho wns twice married, his second
wife being the sister of one of the richest
grandees of tho Ukornnirok, the Count
Arnim Boytzonburg. Ho loavos one
son, who is a lieutenant in the second
Dragoon guards.
POPITEAR phrases.
Home ol Onr Common IV«
I’hrnars OrlElnnted.
SB
■ m
Tho surgoons of tho marine hospital
sorvico aro now confining their examin
ations as to color blindness to men de
signing to outer the pilot service of the
country. All tho pilots of steam vessels
in tho United States woro examined
last year before their licenses woro
granted them. Tho theory thon and
now entertained by tho treasury depart
ment, under whoso direction thoso ox-
miuationn aro made, that colorblind
ness was hereditary, promises to change
a belief thnt it may also bo acquired.
Tho department bnsos its first theory on
oxpert testimony. It is asked to change
it by experts'. In his address before
tho hoard of supervising inspectors of
the steamboat inspection service, not
long ago, Dr. B. Joy Jeffries, of Boston,
said: “ Color blindness, beside boing
congenital und hereditary, may ho ac
quired. It is a symptom of some dis
eases of the brain and tho optic nerve.
Men, after any exhausting disease, like
typhoid fever, should bo tested before
again resuming their duties. The neces
sity of poriodio examinations, for in
stance, with pilots, as often as they are
relicensed, is thus roadily understood.
This is quite aside from the necessity
of testing their visual power, which
moy have decreased from many causes
during the preceding yoar. Injuries
about the head, such as sailors and rail
road employes are particularly subject
to, may cause diminished color percep
tion. Alcohol and tobacco produce a
deterioration of the vision and color
sense.” The treasury department has
not yet accepted this theory. It con
siders steamboat travelers safe, so far
as pilots are concerned, when the latter
have been proven possessed of perfect
color sense by one examination.
“Wo gain by other’s failures,” sail
the lecturer. And the little man in
the snuff-colored suit, who sat in the
back row, rose right up to remark:
“ Perhaps you do, but blamed if I gain
anything by ’em. No less than a dozen’s
failed this week, and they stuck me
bad, every one.” As the policeman
carried him out, he was heard to re
mark about boing allowed to pick a
fellow up when bo was lying that way.
IVomlerM of Rrooin Corn.
Broom com is likely at no distant day
to revolutionize the breadstuff supply of
the world. A process has been discov
ered by which the finest and most de
licious flour can bo made from the seed
to the extent of one-half its weight, and
leave tho other half a valuable food for
making beef and milk. The average
yield per acre is three hundred bushels,
and in many instances five hundred
bushels, or thirty thousand jiounds,
have been secured. Nor does it ex
haust the soil as Indian com, from the
fact that it feeds from the deeper soil,
and assimilates its food from a cruder
state. It belongs to tho same genus as
the sweet cane, commonly known
sorghum, which as an article of food is
growing rapidly in public esteem, and
from the seed of which a most nutritious
flour can be obtained.
The sea-urchin has several movable
spines. Each spine looks very knowing,
and apparently makes its own little ex
cursions without regard to what the
other spines are doing. In large speci
mens, where the claws-can be seen round
the spines, die effect is very comical.
“ Consistency's a jewel.” The origin
of this quotation has [been erroneously
attributed to Shakespeare. It was
originally used in un old Scotch ballad
entitled “ Jolly Robin Roughhead.”
Tho following is the verso in which the
quotation occurs:
Tush I tush I My lassie, sueli thoughts resign
Comparisons aro cruol;
Fine pictures suit in frames as line,
Consistoncio's a Jewel,
For tlioc anil me coarse clothes aro best,
Ibulo folks in homely raiment ilrcst,
Wife Joan and gooclman Robins.
** Whom llio gods would destroy they
first mnko mad." A very ancient Greek
proverb. It occurs in a note on a frag
ment of Euripides, but is probably of
much oarlior date than the Attic
dramatist. It is of^pn mot with trans
lated into Latin, and may be found
among tbe classic quotations in Web
ster’s dictionary. In confirmation of
ts groat antiquity, it may bo observed
that the passage, both Latin and Greek,
reads not gods, but God or Jupiter, re
ferring it, perhaps, to the period of a
purer worship, when the Egyptian
gos in cnlcatod doctrine of the Divine
Unity, and the Athenians raised altars
to tho unknown God.
" Bankrupt.”—Few words havo so rej
markablo a history as this. The money
changers ofItalyhad, it is said, benches
or stalls in the Bourse or exchange in
former times. At thoso they condnoted
their ordinary business. When any of
them fell book iu tlio world and became
insolvent liis bonoh was broken, and
the name broken bonob, or bdnko rotto
was given to him. Wlion the word was
first adopted into English it was nearer
tho Italian namo than it now is, being
Imnkarout instead of bankrupt.
" Bust.”—This word Visoonti traces
to tho place r.J Bnstum, for burning
dead bodies, which was soon transferred
to tho numberless images there set up.
“Blackmail.”—Ii ancient times the
faimers of the north of England and
the south of Sootlnnd were compelled
o pay a certain rate of money, com
cattle or other things to certain men
who were allied to the robbers, to be
by thorn protected from pillage, whioh
was called blackmail. “ Black” denot
ed tho low coin in which it was paid ;
or, in tho moral sonso, tho illegality of
the payment. Rent roceived in silver,
and for a legal purpose, was called
white money and white rent. In the
United .States this word lias come into
general use ns a term applied to per
sons who oxtort monoy from throats of
accusation or exposure of somo alleged
offense.
“ Uncle Sam.”—The name originated
from Samuel Wilson, a beof-inspector
at Troy, N. Y., during tho Revolution
ary war. Ho was very popular with tho
men in his employ, and was always
called Uncle Sam. Tho boxes of pro
visions woro shipped to a contrnctoi
named Elbert Anderson, and were
marked “E. A. U. S.” A joking work
man was nskod what these letters stood
for, to which ho replied he did not
know, unloss it was Elbert Ander
son and Undo Sam. The joko took,
and afterward packages marked U. S.
were said to belong to Uncle Sam.
« Sclali.”—Derived from the Hebrew
word selah, to repose, to bo silent. It
is, however, a word of doubtful mean
ing, occurring vory frequently in the
I’snlms; by some supposed to signify
silence or a pause in tho musical per
formance of tho song; by others, to
indicate special attention to the sub
ject.
“Dry Wine.”—That in which the sac- „
cliarine matter and fermentation are so
exactly balanced that they neutralize
each other, and no sweetness is percepti
ble. It means opposed to sweet
wine, in which the sacohavine matter is
.
in excess.
“ Skedaddle.”—This word may be
easily traced to a Greek origin. The
Greek verb (rendered in Roman letters)
skedannumi, of which the root is skeda,
is used freely by Tliucididos, Herodotus
and other Greek writers in describing
the dispersion of a routed army. From
the root skeda the word skedaddle is
formed by simply adding the euphoni
ous termination “die,” and doubling
the d, as required by the analogy of our
language in suoh words. An old ver
sion of the Irish New Testament con
tains the passage: “ For it is written,
I will smite the shephard, and the sheep
of the flock shall be sqedad ol.”
“ Molly Maguire.”—Somo fifty odd
years or more ago a poor old woman in
Ireland had hor house pulled down over
her head by her landlord, Her name
was Molly Maguire, and she died of ex
posure and grief. Her sons and neigh
bors therefore formed themselves into a
society, and called it the “ Molly Ma
guires,” and vowed and took fierce ven
geance upon unoffending, landlords
generally. The band increased rapidly,
and Irish miners brought the name tc
America.
v?l
He had been telling her stories of
himself, and had done a great amount
of bragging; whon he had finished she
kissed him and murmured, “ This is a
kiss for a blow.”
‘I