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About The Ashburn advance. (Ashburn, Ga.) 18??-19?? | View Entire Issue (April 22, 1899)
THE JEWELS OF THE NICHT. Night Is a Lover that wooes the Karth With jewels and crystals bright, Crimson and golden he heaps them up, Yellow and sulph’rous white— He buyeth them all for a hitter delight. price, And grantolh her heart’s CiUes are clustering brooches fine To pin at tier bosom fair, The town ami the misty roadway lamps Are stars for her sombre hair. And the gleaming lights of the roadside inns Are rings that her fingers wear. He binileth a belt of cities and towns To shine where his arm embraced — At the ragged edge of the lisping lakes plaeed, Are the wharves and tbe bouses (Hearn into gleam, till they shine at last A girdle to elusp her waist. I>im where the mighty ocean moans, The ships ainl the vessels float. Faint, where the lonely darkness leads Through the pathways obscure, remote— Till Night hath made of tbe barbor lights The gems for bis mistress’ throat. Eleanor C. in The Criterion. The Little Curate. LY J. J. BELL. The curate and Miss Edmiston were walkiug down the main street of the village engaged in conversation, which, being that of a recently affianced pair, need not here he repeated. Miss Edmiston carried herself with an air of pretty dignity, made none the less apparent by the fact that she was fully two inches taller than her lover, the Rev. John Bt. John. He was a thin, wiry little man,dark-liaired and pale-complexioned, and was much troubled in his daily work' with amer- tain unconquerable shyness. That he should have won the heart of hand- some Nancy Edmiston was a matter for surprise and discussion among the resident! in Broxbourne. “Buell a very uninteresting young man,” said the maiden ladies over iheir afternoon tea. “Bo ridiculously retiring! How did lie ever come to propose?” remarked the mothers whose daughters assisted iu giving women an overwhelming and not altogether anted majority in Broxburn*tie society. The men on the other hand, voli^l Ht. John a good sort; aud his parish- ionere, in their umgh ways, owned to his many quad dear tes. Nancy,’’ * * ‘ You're a little girl, the curate was stammering, looking up at his beloved, when they were both stopped short on k the narrow pavement. A burly wee smnfT man was with on gaged in chastising n boy u weapon in the shape of a stout lea¬ ther belt. The child screamed, aud the father, presumably, cursed. “Stop!” orie l the curate. „„ ihe angry man merely serowlednml raised the strap for another blow. St. John laid a detaining hand on the fel¬ low's arm, the temerity of which caused the latter such a surprise that lie loosened his grip for a moment, and tho youngster fled howling up au alley. —spluttered bully, 4 * What the” the dancing round the curate, who seemed to shrink ueare;' liis sweetheart. “Let us go,dear,” he said. He had grown white and was trembling. At this juncture two of the work¬ man’s cronies appeared at the door of the alehouse opposite,and, seeing ho.v aud matters stood, crossed the road, with rough hands and soothing curses conducted their furious friend from the scene. “riorrible!”siglied the curate as the lovers continued their walk. Miss Edniistou’s head was held a trifle higher. “If l were a nuvi,”sho said, “1 would have thrashed him—1 would indeed! ’ “You think 1 should have punishel him. then?” said the cmate mildlv; T, “he was a much larger man than you know.” Nancy was silent, m, . but sorely disappointed in her lover. He was not exactly the hero she had dreamed of. How white and shaky he bad turned! “You surely did not expect me to take part in a street row, Nancy,” he Miid presently, somehow suspecting her thoughts. He knew her romantic ideas. But she made no reply. “So you think I acted iu a cowardly fashion?” lie questioned alter a chill pun-e. « « I don’t think your cloth is any ex¬ cuse, anyhow," she blurted out sud¬ denly and e uellv; tin* next instant she was filled with -llama and regret. Before she could speak again, how¬ ever, the curate had lifted liis hat ami was mossing the street. An icy ■‘Good-bye” was all ho had vouo’isaTd her. Mr. Bt. John was returning from paying a visit of condolence some dis- tance out of tbe village, aud he had taken the short cat across the rnoor. It was a clear summer afternoon, a week since his parting with Nancy. A pnrting in earnest it had been, for the days had gone by without meeting or communication between them. Tbe cmate was a sad young man, though the anger iu his heart still burned fiercely. To have been called a coward by tbe womau be loved was a thing not lightly to be forgotten. His recent visit, too, had beeu .particularly try- ing. In his soul he felt that his words of comfort had been unreal; that, for all he had striveu, he had failed in his mission to the bereaved mother. So he trudged across the moor with slow step and bent head, giving no heed to the summer beauties around him. He was about half way home when his sombre meditations were suddenly interrupted. A man rose from the heather, where he had been lying,and stood iu the path, barring the curate’s progress. “Now, Mister Parsou,” he said, with menace iu his thick voice and hi ated face. “Good-afternoon,my man,” returned Bt. John, recognizing the brute of a week ago, and turning as red as a turkey-cock. “I’ll ‘good afteruoon’ye, Mister Par- son! No! Ye don’t pass till I’m done wi’ve,” cried the man, who had been drinking heavily, though he was too seasoned to show auy unsteadiness in The curate drew back. “Wliat do you want?” he asked. He was pain- fully white now. “What do I want?” repeated the bully, following up the question with a volley of oaths that made the little man shudder, “I’ll tell ye what I want. 1 want your apology”—he fumbled with the word—“apology for interferin’ ’tween a father an’ his kid. But 1 licked him more’n ever for yer blamed interferin’.” “You cowqrd!” exclaimed Bt. John. His opponent gapped. “Let me pass,” said the curate. “No ye don’t,” cried the other, re¬ covering from his astonishment at hearing a strong word from a par¬ son. St.John gazed hurriedly across' about him. The path wound the moor, through the green and purple of the heather, cutting a low hedge here aud there, and losing itself at hist in the heat haze. They were alone, The bully grinned. “I’ve got y.e now. “Toll have indeed,” said St. John, peeling off his b'nck coat and throw¬ ing it on the heather. His soft felt hat followed. Then he slipped the links from his cuffs and rolled up his s i liv m!eeves, while Ins enemy gasped at the proc. edings. « > Now I'm ready,” said the curate gently. “Are ye goiu’ to fight?” burst out the other, looking at him as Goliath might have looked at David. “Come on< ve ”__ But the foul word never passed his lips, being stoped by a carefully- planted blow from a small but siugu- laifly hard fist. The little curate was filled with a wild, unholy joy. He had not felt like this since his college days. He thanked Providence tor his friends the lndiau-clubs and dumb- bells, which had kept him iu trim these past three years. The blood sang in his veins as he circled round Goliath, guarding the giant’s brutal smashes, and getting iu a stroke when occasion offered. It was not long ere the big man found himself hopelessly out¬ matched; his wind w as gone, his jaw was swollen, aud one eye was useless. He a ternhe blow ti » al atDavid l %«<>*}*** Partly f, luu pained S Jt oaugUi him on the shoulder, felling him to the earth. Now, surely, the victory was with tbe Philistine. But no. The fallen man recoiled to liis feet like a young sapling,and the next that Goliath knew was, ten minutes later, when lie opened his available eve uml found that his enemy was bending over him. wiping the stains from his face with a fine linen hand- kerchief. “Feel better?" said the curate. “Well, I’m----” “Hush, man; it’s not worth swear¬ ing about,” interposed his nurse. “Now, get up.” He held out his hand aud assisted the wieck to its feet. “You’d better call at the chemist’s and get patched up. Here’s money. ” The vanquished one took the silver and gazed stupidly at the giver, who was making his toilet. “i’lease, go away, and don’t thrash your hoy any more,” said fit. John persuasively, made then Goliath a few steps, re- traced them,holding out n grimy paw. “Mister Parson, I’m—I’m’ - “Don’t say another word, Good- bye;” and the curate shook hands with him. The big man turned away. Presently he halted once mere. “I’m-!” he said. It bad to come. Then he shambled homewards. Bt. John adjusted his collar, gave biB shoulder a rub, and donned his coat and hat. As he started toward the village a girl came swiftly to meet him. “0 John, John, yon are splendid!” she gasped as she reached him. “I watched yon from the hedge yonder.” “I am exceedingly sorry, Miss Edmiston,” said the curate coldly, raising his hat aud making to pass on. Nancy started as though he had struck her; her flush of enthusiasm paled out. In her excitement she had forgotten that event of a week ago,but the cuttiug tone of his voice reminded her. Bbe towed her head, and he went on his way. He had gone about fifty yards when she called his name. Her voice jnst reached him, but some¬ thing in it told him that he had not suffered alone. He turned about and' hastened to her.—New York Weekly. SHE SAID “DITTO.’’ It Was a »«v Word to the Policeman find Caused Him Sorrow. Even before the policeman gets ac¬ quainted with the people on his beat, he should see! - an introduction to the dictionary. The Plain Dealer proves it by the experience of a Cleveland officer w ho had loved a young woman long and truly, but lacked courage to tell her so. Finally he mustered up all his brav¬ ery—it required more nerve than to face au ugly mob—and inarched to her home, “Mary,” he said, “I love you.” started slightly. She had beeu Mary expecting this remark for some time. She blushed, however, and then coyly * t Ditto, George.’ To her surprise and chagrin George changed the subject, and i^esently took bis departure. A few nights later he was on his beat with two of bis brother officers. “Bay, bo^s,” lie said, “I want to a°k yon something. You know I’ve been keeping company with a girl on Cedar avenue, and the other night— well, 1 told her I loved her, and say, all she said was ‘ditto.’ Now, what iu thunder does ‘ditto’ mean?” The brother officer laughed loud and long. “Don’t you know what that means?” one of them cried. “No, I don’t,” said George. “Well, it’s easy,” said liis friend, “Look over the fence.” They were just patch. passing “What an do East see? End^ cabbage you “Cabbage,” replied George. particular “Well, now look at that cabbage-head right there.” “Yes, ’ said George. “Now look at the cabbage-head next to it.” “d es. said George. “Well, that s it. The first ^ cabbage- head is a cabbage-head and the other one is ditto. “What! roared the irate George, “Did that blamed girl call me a cab- bage-head? ’ refused And he turned away auo to be comforted, Tilt* fdthaitfffl lie Made, “.Miss Willistou,” he pleaded, “I am going away. 1 shall travel thou- 8 » nd » of V ileB befo " e * retl "“; ™ a { ] ask you for your photograph before 1 go? Willistou looked at Jeaunette space aud sighed gently. “I don’t know,” she replied, “why you should ask me for my picture.’ “Our friendship,” he said; “surely that is something.” “Yes,” she answered, “that i» something. But it doesn’t seem to me that you have the light to carry mv portrait near your heart—yet.” “Jeannette!” lie cried, “will you be mine?” “Ah, Percy,” she said, after it had been arranged that they should be married a week from the following Thursday, “bow did you dare to ask me? What reason had you for not fearing that 1 w ould bid you go away and never show yourself in my pres- euee again?” humbly replied, “I don't know,” he “perhaps it was intuition.”—Chicago News. ALASKAN FISHERMEN. They Make Astonishing Catches With Home-Made Tackle. With his home-made fishing-tackle one native Alaskan can capture more lish in a day than can any three white meu with their latest improved im- plements. The Alaskan Indian shows his intelligence by clinging to his own implements and tools, aud at the same time in quietly adapting himself to the greatly altered conditions of his environment. He will adopt certain of onr customs and utensils,'but re- fuses to adopt many others. While he will always give you the most snperstitions reasons for clinging to his own time-hopored tools, he is quick to decide that the spirits wish him to make use of any new idea which will be «n actual benefit under conditions. These Indians use the same fishing- tackle that Bering found them using during his explorations of 1741, aud which George Vancouver found dur¬ ing his first visit among them as a midshipmite under the famous Cap¬ tain Cook a few years later. Fish are abundant. Alaskan homes are always near some excellent fish¬ ing grounds. A village is often situ¬ ated iu a certain location simply to be near good halibut banks. Hooks used in fishing for halibut are usually made of a fork of spruce root to which an iron barb has been lashed, the only change from the original being iu the iron barb, which sometimes takes the place of the one of bone used in the primitive hook. All bait is secured to the hook by means of a small cedar cord, which is neatly lashed about the hook when it is not in use. Halibut feed near tbe bottom of the sea. The Indian has a method, as ingenious as it is rude, to keep his bait where it will be most tempting. He will tie a stone a few feet above the hook on his line with a slip- loop, which the halibut, iu trying to get away, will twitch out, releasing the stone and giving the Indian warn¬ ing that he can draw up his fifty or a hundred pound halibut without the additional weight of the sto.ie. Be¬ tween the hook and the stone sinker is a wooden float whittled in the shape of a duck, which, in seeking to rise to the surface, draws the hopk up the proper distance from the bottom. Seal hooks made after these pat¬ terns have been on the market for many years, but the Indian has better success with his own. His cords and lines are his own pro- duction. Tliey are made of cedar bark, split spruce roots, or kelp. The cedar bark is scraped from the tree with a bone shaped like a chop¬ ping knife. After soaking for several days, tbe bark is beaten into shreds with a bam- made also of bone, and picked into fine threads, which are twisted into cords bv being rubbed between Ihe hand and the thigh. Cords of spruce roots split and twisted are also very strong, but those made of kelp are least valued.—Harper’s Bound Table. Tit Bits story, George Newnes, now Sir George, not many years ago ran a small restau- rant in a provincial town, and one of his most popular dishes was a concoc- tiou 0 f everything sold under the name of Tit Bits. The more solid articles of diet were passed by for (he lighter and more attractive Tit Bits, Applying the same reasoning to iutel- leotual food, he soon concluded that it was the bright, pithy sayings largely ■ , ,, , . that formed the most interesting dailies fea- hire in the heavy English which he read, and as ail experiment he issued an unpretentious periodic..1 named after the popular dish in the i estaurant. And thus began a career which for meteoric splendor has rarely been e mailed in t*e annals of the publishing business.-Art in Adver- tisiug. Pneiunatic Thimble?. PiHUinatic thimbles for typewriters aud piauists a:e the latest devices for nerve economy. The incessant and regular pounding of the ssuxi ive lin¬ ger tips renders the owners of them nervous wrecks in the ma’ority of ca-e j , to say nothing of callous and era died linger ends and broken and split nails. The new thimbles are of rubber, coming in sets, according to the size of glove worn, and are said to not only save the nerve shock, but also to increase the speed and strength of the stroke.—Washington Star, Madness from hunger to the number 0 f 100,00'J cases a year is officially reported in Italy. BOYS IN THE NAVY. Naval Apprentices nml Their Life at i» Training Station. “Apprenlices of the United States Navy” is the title of an article in St. Nicholas that is sure to be read with attention by every boy who thinks of a life at sea as an attractive alternative to a career on laud, Almost every boy by this time knows of battleships and cru sers of torpe- does and torpedo-boats, and of the gallant officers and jolly Jack Tars who man the ships; but it is safe to say that there are few indeed who have ever heard of the young naval appren- tice, the work which he has to do, aud what his chances are for the future, It is enough at present to say that he is an enliste 1 boy, who by means of a great deal of drill and training de¬ velops gradually into a most efficient and useful man on board of our mod¬ ern ships. Although, as already stated, the apprentice can never hope to become a commissioned officer, there are many positions of trust and honor in the service that are open to him, if he but applies himself to the tasks assigned to him day by day, and is awake to the opportunities that are sure to turn up tor him. The boys at the training station truly may be said to live iu a little world oi their own, for they do not need to go outside of their own circle to find any of the needs of life. At certain hours of the day they form a well regulated school in which they are taught all the elements of science, English, aud mathematics —enough to enable them to understand thor¬ oughly and to handle intelligently the various fittings aud armament of a modern man-of-war. Well informed and thoroughly prac¬ tical officers are stationed there to in¬ struct the apprentices iu all the drills and maneuvers used by seaman afloat and ashore, including infantry, light artillery, seamanship iu all its forms— both theoretical and practical—the several kinds of signaling used in the service, the handling of boats under steam, oars and sails, and the use of sword and gun in the arts of fencing and of bayonet exercise. At Newport is the only important torpedo station of our government, aud it is therefore convenient for the apprentices to be taught, while there, the mode of constructing a torpedo, and the proper care and handling of the same. A chaplain in the navy is detailed regularly for duty among the boys, and to look after them in any way he may think most conducive to their highest moral improvement. Every Sunday the boys are assembled on deck to join in a regular church wor¬ ship, jiresided over by tbe chaplain, and it is a most interesting sight to see several hundred boys of tender age, all in the same blue uniform, joining heartily iu the service. Those with voices worthy of any cultivation are assigned to tlie choir, aud they enjoy this honor quite as much as any of the several privileges that fall to their lot. At certain other times, in the evenings, during recreation periods, they are permitted to assem¬ ble for any kind of innocent amuse¬ ment, and one of the most popular pastimes among them seems to be dancing. cleared, and The spacious deck is there, to the music of an orchestra formed from theii'-own number, they t ip together the “light fantastic.” It is well that there are some such pleasures for the young bovs, for 0 l h ®™’ ,e tlie hanlsl, !f am Mrv,ce wonld beCOnie L ° 1 V- ” . ,, .«ei y sjn mg am summei le * T A? ( 1 ° ,k ‘ r of thc uav { an<l are *"? t ahr ? aA ° * 7V- or . a f officers, l 'L msc ’ they ‘ ,mu are 3 * tangU hl $l ,be 1,lH ll,lties ot seame11 a(1oat ’ AH the theory of seamanship and gunnery is then reduced to praetic and the , appreuti es are put through the evo¬ lutions of furling, reefing, ami loos ing sail, of abandoning ship, and ot aiming and tiring the gnus on board, antiquated though they may be. I lie Latest Kail in Dairymen have known for a long while tiie families that require that the milk served them for their children shall come all from one cow. A gro- cer heard recently for the fir. t time one of these families. The bead thereof asked the grocer to see that the eggs of the house came daily from one hen.—New York Commercial Ad¬ vertiser. I avlauders think nothing of cover¬ ing ljO miles a dnv on their skates.
