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hrH ) HH t" 1 < 3 Ph O C. H. MEDLOCK, Editor and Publisher. VOL. I. The Old Year and the New. 'ihe good-old year hath run his race. And the latest hour draws near; l lie cold dew shines on his hoary lace, And he hobbles along with a listless pace, i’o his lonely and snow-covored resting place In the northern hemisphere. See how big still' joints faint and shrink As the cold breeze whistles by; He hath a bitter eup to drink As ho watches the sand in his hour-glass sink, Standing ’ alone on the icy brink Ol the gull of eternity. His scanty robe is wrapped more tight As the dim sun dwindles down; 8 ar ® ansu t° c , eer the , night ( Wht when crimson , ^° S roses Cnll and 8 ! 1 ? lilies y O " C0 white ,,,ade blight, Halt hid his golden crown. Ho reels—he slips—no power at hand To check him from tumbling o’er; The hour-glass clicks with its latest sand, And each movement falls like the stroke ol a ! brand | On one already took weak to stand— He falls—ho is I sueu no more. j And, lo! in the east a star ascends, And a burst oi music comes— A young lord, followed by troops ol iriends, Down to the broad equator wends, I\ bile tile starthat travels above him bends O’er a sea ol floating plumes. —Miles O’Reilly. THE AGATE RING A CHRISTMAS STORY. I. Evening's shadows were closing in over a greai and populous Western me tropolis. Without, the storm-king reigned supreme; the wind blew its lit” fui, violent gusts; the snow-flakes fell thick and fast, and the air was sharp and chilling. To an interior scene, where none of the accessories to comfort and eouient existed save warmth and light, we would conduct the reader this cheerless wintry night, the fourth evc-n ing preceding that most joyous of ail merry seasons in the year, Christmas Diglit. While without, despite the falling snow and general inclemency of the weather, a thousand merry sleigh-hells keen, tune pi - i...^ cheerful hearts and intensify the smiles of hopeful anticipation on joyous faces, within the walls of the city prison co m parative silence and gloom alone exist. Here, with no hope of participation in the gay festivities of the season, moody or sullen under restraint, or reckless and phlegm it,ic under long usuage to incar cerations, the hundred and mwe prison ers behind the iron-barred doors either converse in a low, dreary undertone, or stand gazing at the few late visitors in the corridors importuning them for pe cuniary or other favors. To one of the cells, where its two occupants are seated on the iron bed engaged in earnest dis course, lot turn our attention. The elder of the occupants of the cell is a young man not more than thirty years of age, and whose manner, words and dress bet >ken the gentleman. The prison register tells us that this man is held on a charge of forgery. His com panion is a mere boy, whose pale, sad features tell a story of suffering and want more than of vice or crime. It is he who is speaking. “Yes, Mr. Vane, they tell me I can leave here to-night, a free man. After keeping me here for nearly a month, until the weather is too cold to tramp it far without freezing to death, they say that, as the only charge against me is vagrancy, I am free to leave here, pro vided I leave the city within twenty-four hours. A dreary lookout, indeed. I have no home, no friends. Except your own, I cannot remember a kind voice for years. I shall leave when the turnkey goes the evening rounds. Is there any thing I can do for you outside?” A look of thought-ful meditation crosses the other’s brow at the query. Then a quick flush comes across Iiis face, suc ceeded by one of intense pallor. “It i s hopeless to try it!” he mur murs, “ and yet—. Yes, my friend, you can do me a favor. I am held in this prison on a false charge of forgery. Since 1 have been here systematic bribery and influence have rendered my incarceration a complete isolation from all my friends. I have sent letter after letter from here to the woman whom I have loved—to the woman who pledged herself to become my bride. Guilty in the eyes of the world, condemned by the silence of my own lips, I must atone for the crime of another, unless she gives me permission to speak. Oh, but to see her for one brief hour! Then, with her avowed sanction to the sacrifice, knowing her to be still true to me (for if she knew all she could not but love me the stronger), I could suffer in the blessed belief that when my period of punishment was ended she would be mine!” The tramp gazed upon his companion with genuine sympathy in his eyes. “ What can I do for you?” he asked, impetuously. “ I do not know your story beyond the few words you have just told me, but I know you are an in nocent man, and your friendship for a SYLVAN I A, GEORGIA, TUESDAY, JANUARY (>, 1880. poor vagrant has won my heart to you. Command me in anything in my power, I will do it for you!” “Thank you, my friend,” said the ! other in a subdued tone of voice. “ My j story I will not tire you with. Suffice j it that it is in the interest of a certain man to procure my conviction speedily, and to prevent me communicating with the woman I love. I am satisfied that i not on[ have letters to Inez Saltore y m y ! been detained, but that his misrepresen j tations to her have prevented her com ing to me. See here,” he said, produc ing a letter, sealed, addressed and stamped. “ When you leave here will y^u place it in the most eonvenient let tHI ,hox? And here,” taking from his hngPr ?. nn * P la, « Circ! f t ™nt*'Bing ... a peculiar agate setting, “is a slight re membranee from me. No. Take it. It was her ring, but it is all I have left of value, and it may save you from starva tion.” The tramp took the missive, hut de ciined the ring. “ You must,” persisted the prisoner. “You will need what you may obtain from its sale to keep you from freezing and hunger.” He pressed-it upon the tramp as he and started with an exclamation of alarm as a form quickly passed the door of his cell. “Can he have been listening?” he murmured. “ What, going?” as the turnkey opened the door. “Good-bye! The tramp left him with moistened eyes and a choked utterance. Through : Iiis tear-dimmed eyes he did not notice the form which followed him steadily; kept him in view and watched him as he dropped the letter given him by his fellow-prisoner into a letter box. “It must not reach its destination!” muttered the man, who was none otlic r than the enemy referred to by the pris oner in his conversation witli the tramp. “ I have played my cards to skillfully to be trumped now. If Inez Saltore ever sees Edward Vane my plan3 will end in j their reconciliation and his liberty.” He consulted his watch as he spoke, it was seven o’clock. The last mail had been collected for the night, and as an idea Seemed to strike him forcibly lie eft the spot, walking hurried— tay. licft I!yias fully ien o’clock in— |< .,A -A*. ^ tsMwPffy V* 1 ' - serted, yet he looked '.round as he lifted the cover of the slot in the end of the letter box into which the tramp had dropped Edward Vane’s let ter. Into the hoie used for the admis sion of letters he slipped a small, com pact package, narrow and long, first, however, touching a fuse which pro truded from the end of it to mouth? the lighted end of a cigar lie had in his when lie withdrew a few yards—waited till lie heard the report of a sharp explosion in the letter box. He had succeeded. Ed ward Vane’s letter would never reach its intended destination. A charred mass with the other letters in the box its mission ended where the tramp had left it. And sad and disappointed the poor prisoner waited in his lonely prison cell for the reply. H. Christmas Eve! The suppressed ex citement of the preceding few days, the busy preparations crowded into their happy and swiftly-flying hours, had cul minated in decorated parlors, ablaze with light of lamp and minor candela bra on festooned and present-loaded evil’green trees Happy, light-hearted children made their homes ring witli laughter and mirth, passed and re passed the windows, revealing the bright background of light and beauty and opening a veritable vista of para dise in the eyes of a miserably-clad, half-starved man who had wandered along the streets of the most aristocratic portion of the city in the hope of receiv ing a pittance from the passers-by. But all were too thoroughly engrossed with their own enjoyments to heed poor, homeless, starving John Alden, the tramp! “If they would only arrest me again!” he murmured, bitterly, as lie walked wearily along, “ The person with something to eat and warmth is better than this aimle-s wandering. The ring!” he continued, as he gazed at the circlet on his linger. “ Oh, no! not yet. The only pledge of friendship I ever pos sessed shall not go until I amabsolutely starving.” lie little knew how near he was to it as ho stumbled tremulousy down an area steps. And then he had a dim re membrance of ringing a door-bell, and of a strange sensation in his head Then, when he again realized what breathing existence was, he was lying on a sofa in the comfortable dining-room of the mansion at the door of which lie had fainted away. A young lady, petite and pretty, stood regarding him witli a sympathetic, anx ious expression, as.he opened his eyes., “ Boor man!” she said to the house keeper. “ He must be very hungry and cold!” “1 will attend to his wants, Miss Inez,” replied the woman. In his sense of dreamy languor, induced “ONWARD AND UPWARD.” by the wandering reason gradually re turning to full consciousness, the tramp murmured, almost involuntarily: “ Inez?—yes, that was the name—Inez Saltore. Poor Mr. Vane. Is the ring safe?” “ Mercy on as! what is the man say ing?” ejaculated the housekeeper as Alden half arose and raised his hand to see If the ring was still on his finger. “Hisring!” cried Inez Saltore, for it was the young lady in question at whose doorstep the jtramp had so strangely fallen; “ where did you get it?” " Pardon me, I was wandering in my mind. Hunger and cold—” “Something for the poor man to eat, Mrs. Rousby!” peremptorily ordered Miss Saltore. “Now, tell me all about it. You knew Edward Vane? I am Inez Saltore.” And ho told her all—of his incarcera tion with Edward JVanc; of the mailed letter which she had never received; after which, acting under a wayward impulse and tilled with a now idea, she hurried on her wraps and was soon whirling away in a carriage to the city prison. III. There were two guests at the Saltore mansion on Christmas day who were little expected there the day previous, They were Edward Vane and John Al den, but the latter, arrayed in a neat suit of clothes and fresh from the hands of the ’’arbor, but little resembled John Alden, the tramp. For Inez Saltore had gone straight to the prison, and then the true story came out. It seemed that about three weeks before $1,000 had been abstracted frtyn John Saltore’s money-drawer, and a forged check on a well-known business man substituted. Edward Vane, Arnold Peters and Mr. Saltore’s son were clerks in the place, and suspicion, augmented by Arnold Peters’ covert insinuations, at once attached itself to young Vane, who was arrested. Peters, by bribery and other cunning schemes, had inter cepted all Vane’s letters, and by false stories and insinuations had almost pu- suaded her of her lover’s guilt and lack of love for herself. Then Vane told Iter the entire story. It was her brotllwr who had CouMcHed the forgery, bol other’s crime. 1 John Saltore was not long in proc-ul ing bail for his wronged clerk, arm under promises of reformation, which h, well kept, young Saltore was not prose cuted. lle confessed his crime and evinced sincere contrition, but had not courage enough to free his fellow-clerk from the crime. The matter was hushed up, and Ardold Peters discharged. A pleasant Christmas dinner led to better acquaintance with the fellow prisoner of Edward Vane, and when the latter became old John Saltore’s partner and son-in-law, the ex-tramp became an employee of the firm, and all through the influence of the Agate ring. Advice on Winter. What this country is yearning for just now is a sleighing that will come on along in November when it should and stay. We’ve cutters, horses and good-looking gil ls enougli in this coun try, and for the government not to fur nish a better article oi sleighing is an oversight that blocks the wheel of com merce and interferes with the blight dream of love. Some winters we have a little sleighing that melts right off, and other winters it gets all covered up withsiiowso as to he of no use. We would throw out the suggestion that Congress abolish the present snow used for sleighing, and construct a more permanent sleighing by making the road beds of plate glass, and have them greased with lard oil daily from a sprinkler. Of course the oil would be a trifle costly, but the savins in time to the public, and the corps of officers who would officiate on the sprinklers would for the expense. Then another need of the season is a different kind of ice. The style of ice now in fashion may be good enough to give body to creams in the summer season, but it is entirely too fragile and brittle to be safe for the use of skaters. We want a kind of ice made without any air holes in it, and akind that is just as thick in one place as it is anywhere. Then could the gay skater and skatess go bounding over the frozen surface of the deep mjll pond without fear of a premature bath. Then too, if a plan could be devised to raise the temperature of the ice a little, it would be better for awkward and timid skaters like our selves. We frequently sit down when we are skating, and the amount of cold hid in a few square feet of ice offers too much encouragement to the latent rheu matism. If tnis ic* could be taken in by the fire, or heated by the Holly system we should want to skate oftener than now.— Ed. L. Adams, in Marathon In dependent At a recent concert it was the subject ol re mark that in what fine “voice” the singers were; in commending his good judgment the leader will pardon us for whispering that he always recommends Dr. Bull's Cough Syrup foi clearing and strengthening the voice. A Humorist Tells How Wire Is Made. Burdette, the Burlington Hawkey e funny man, is traveling about the coun try, lecturing and writing letters to his paper. While in Johnstown, Pa., lie was taken through the Cambria iron works. His description of the manner in which wire is made there is anamus ing combination of fact and fun : Did you ever see them make wire? Tt is simple enough. I can make it now. You start in with a great ingot of steel that will weigh as much as the new court-house, and you come out with a tiny thread of wire, line as a boy’s mus taehe. And it is done quickly. The work runs on like the days on a thirty d:ty note. After the wire comes from the roughing rolls—you know what they are,'of course; I do-you just take a kind of an iron heavy and strong, hut very similar in shape to the one made of shingle, upon the broad end of which you used to sit, while your gentle mother held the small end in her active hand. The iron paddle of the Gautier iron works is perforated with holes, very large at one end and very small at the other. You beat and file down the rough, large wire until you get it pushed through one of these holes, thon the reel takes hold of it, and you wouldn’t believe me if I told you how vapidly that wire was reeled up, sent through another and another process until it was ready for the market. All tlie 8tee l for tl ie Brooklyn bridge is made l lere > every pound of it. I went in to see them galvanizing the wire for this bridge. Formerly, this wire was all coBed lls soon as it came through the Datli. Coiled hot, it cooled in the coil, am1 its tendency was to remain coiled. ^ ou l |ave often noticed that when you were swearing at a bit of wire you wanted to straighten out. They used 1° l laV ® sixteen machines at the Brook lyn bridge, just for straightening this wire. But now they do tilings better than that at the Gautier company’s works. They trot the wire along about one hundred and fifty feet between the bath and the reels; it cools while it is straight, and its tendency is to keep straight and to spring from the coil. If you go to the Brooklyn bridge now you will find these sixteen machines for straightening ist4i wire as fSntkjpa^om. idle as a colony of ®?g?a o VhBiipF } didn’t. The Bath in Cold Weather. Dr. Arthur W. Edis, writing to the British Medical Journal on the subject, says: “Now that the weather is be coming very cold in the morning, the question of giving up the cold sponge bath, or converting it into the tepid bath, forces itself upon the attention of many who, without being invalids, are not in such robust health as to enable them to establish a reaction after even temporary immersion in cold water. The French method of providinga small tub of warm water to stand in whilst dressing, on returning from a bath in the sea, is a luxury few will forget who have experienced it. This method of standing in warm water is one that might, with advantage, he more fre quently followed during the winter months by all who indulge in cold bath ing. In place of sitting in an ordinary sponge bath of tepid water, a far more invigorating plan is to fill the hand basin with cold water, pour-a small canful of warm water into the bath placed c.ose to the wash-stand, then stand in this, and sponge with cold water from the basin. Where the full-length bath is employed, a momentary immersion in water at fifty degrees Fahrenheit, and then getting out into a foot hath in which’ a little warm water has been placed, when soap or a flesh brush may be used and another immersion in cold water resorted to, enables one to enjoy the invigorating eff'°ets even in the coldest weather. Thinking it possible there may be many who will be glad to avail themselves of the hint, I venture to draw attenticn to the subject. lu Pursuit of Vast Estales. The New York World has an article giving a history of some large estates in AmericaandEngland that various fami lies are striving to recover. The article closes with the following tabulated summary, whioh gives the names of the various estates, the number of heirs to each, and the amounts which the claim ants seek to recover: Hei s. Estate. Anneke Jans......... 1,000 * o’oflo’onn Baker................ 87 25 Carpenter ............ 200 , 000,0 0 Chadwick............ 5 37,000,000 Edwards............. 160 90,000,00 l Hyde, N. S........... 200 12,500,000 Hyde, Ann........... 150 360,000,0 0 Hyde, Bklyn......... 1 5,000,000 Jennings............. 1,835 t to,001,000 Kern................ - 2 ^ 0 , 000,1100 Leake................ - 100 , 000,000 Mackey............. 1 10,to 7)00 Merritt............... 10,0 0,000 Shepherd ............. 15 175,000,000 Trotter.............. 200 200 , 000 , 0(10 Towneley............. - l,800,000,00n Lawrence-Townley 50 500,000,0-0 Van Horn............ 4,000,0 >J Webber.......... 6) 50,000,0 .0 Weiss................ 4 2”,Of 0,0(0 Grand total—20 estates; 3,868 hr-irs; value of estates, $4,740,500,000. TIMELY TOPICS. I)r. Oliver Wendell Holmes occupies 1 a house m Beacon loosing out j u .> Kin a '-harming view of the Charles I H" built the house himself and i hlled it full of books. Many of these are : theological books, for, inheriting his father's theological tastes, the doctor ia fond of wading commentaries and an n °hiting them. In the attic Dr. Holmes keeps his bench and tools, for he is mfi, ’ ,lanic as well as professor, doctor and writer. A correspondent of the k'^Melphm Press says that Holmes he " an to write poetry in his fifteenth year, and when he penned a line which had in it the sentence: “The raging billows murmured into calm,” his mother who belonged to the Jackson family of Boston, said to her son : “ You ar(! a poet.” Dr. Finseli, in his just published trav I els to western Siberia, tells us that the great road from Nijni-Novgorod to men in Siberia, is bordered with a few gaps, by an alley of birches, which are sometimes in double rows. This, as Dr. Finseli ventures to conjecture, must lie the longest avenue in the world. It was planted by order of Catherine II., and was to have been continued to Irkutsk. It was forbidden under the severest penalties —banishment to Siberia or death—to fell the smallest of these trees, a precaution without which this unique avenue would never have been finished. Many of these trees are now shattered by age, and those planted in their stead are no longer protected against damages or destruction by laws so severe as formerly. The will of ex-Governor McArthur, now before the United States circuit court at Washington, is a rather queer document. More than fifty years ago the testator, who lived at Chillicothe, Ohio, will. died, and left an extraordinar^ He was a man of great wealth, but very peculiar. His estate amounted to some millions of dollars, but by iiis will it was not to be divided until the youngest grandchild should reach the age of twenty-one years, and then be appor tioned equally among the entire family. The will was i»\th«?i(£te in an 'important whether ’ he living grand say meant children or included those yet un born. The executors declined to act under these unusual conditions, andjlie county court appointed a trustee to take charge of the property. Fifty years passed away after the old man’s death and grandchildrer continued to be born. Finally some of the heirs thought it about time an understanding was arrived at, and went into court, and the ease is before the couvts yet and the grand children continue to be born. Fifteen-ton loads ot lumber, piled on immense eight-wheeled wagons and j drawn by teams of six or ten horses or mules, are to be seen on the mountain roads in California. The driver sits on a very high seat, with one foot on a powerful brake, and usually handles the reins and long whip with seeming care lessness. The San Francisco Argus, however, pictures him at a more excit ing juncture: “Let a scare take place; let a herd of runaway cattle appear at a bend and set the horses wiki, and then see what will happen. The day dreamer w ill become a giant of strength; he is up in a flash; he shortens his hold upon the reins, and feeling his wagon start up beneath him, places a foot of iron on the brake. The horses snort and rear and surge; the harness rattle, the dust arises, the load shrieks again, and the huge wheels turn fatally faster and faster. An instant may hurl the wagon down into the valley with its struggling train- a mad rush to the other side of the way may end all in one horrible plunge. Muscle, eye, brain, skill are then brought to work so splen didly together that the peril is averted, and the looker-on, who knows not the way of the land, regards the teamster with profound respect thereafter.” An Ill-Fated House. The house built by Commodore Rog ers with his prize money long years since in Washington, has brought bad luck to many inmates. Philip Barton Key, after being shot by Sickles, died there, it being the headquarters of his club. Mr. Seward and his son Freder ick, just resigned, were living there when nearly assassinated by Paine. Two members of Tyler’s cabinet, Palmer and Gilmer, killed by the explosion of a gun on the Princeton, had lived there. The secretary of war, John C. Spencer, was living there in 1822, when his son was hung at the yard-arm of the brig Somers for mutiny. Secretary Belknap lived there when lie became involved in disgrace. Superstitious people believe there is always a curse attached to houses built with prize money .—Detroit Free Press. The small boy who asked for “ more stuffin’ ” right out befoi e all the company got all the “ dressing” he wanted after dinner was over .—Merrill- TERMS—$ l 50 pick Year. NO. 24. On Christmas Morning. Heaven is nearer, The skies are clearer, The snn shines blighter. Our hearts are lighter, On Christmas morning. Heaven is nearer, Our triends are dearer, The air is rarer, The earth is tailor, On Christinas morning. Joy-bells ring praises; The soul it raises, On music’s pinions, From sell’s dominions, On Christmas morning. The shadows'dritted, Ol sin, seem lilted; And cure and grieving Find sweet relieving On Christmas morning. Mankind seem purer; Our hope seems surer, Oar doubting ceases: We hail Christ Jeans On Christmas morning! — George Birdseye. ! ITEMS OF INTEREST. ! A novel scheme—A proposition to write a romance. Out on a fly—A canary escaped from its cage.— New York Herald. Missouri girls are sweet enough to lie called Mo-lasses — New York News. “ ’Tis rather neat upon your feet A pair ol skates to And; ’Tis rather drear upon your ear When skates slip up behind.” —Free Pns$. Mr. Gough says he found tilings g reatly , clla . “S® d m England. There are ancI l , tere the cwo f^eration Podges the P led total f abstinence and th ’ «' e are T® ab8tamerS than wlien ho ' w ^ s Chicago s boast that site counts more within her borders than any other city in the Union |To the corn positor : Be careful in setting up the word “ border ” not to insert an“ a.”]— ktochester Express. “Mamma,” said a live-year old, the other day, “ T wish Von wouldn’t baa that i nmi to feaf a*.-Wesj–iige e-ii ' and two jars of rasberry jam to amuse him .—ban Francisco Post. “ How far,” asks an exchange, “ will bees go for honey?” The answer to this conundrum is unknown to us, bur it is a well-known fact that a bee. will go miles out of its way for the purpose of stinging a barefooted boy on the heel. Norristown Herald. “ I want to sell you an encyclopedia,’ said a book agent to one of our foremost pork men, the other day, who, by the way, is better posted on pork than he is on books “ What do I want with your encyclopedia?” snarled the p^rk man; “I couldn’t ride one if 1 had it.” He thought it was a new variety ot veloci pede.— Cincinnati Saturday Night. PROBABLY IT WILL HOLLOS. Roll on, thou ball, roll on! Through pathless realms ol’ .“pace, Roll on! What though I’m in a sorry case What though 1 cannot moot my bills ? What though I suiter toothache's ills ? What though I swallow countless pills ? Never you mind! Roll on! Roll on, thou ball, roll on' Through seas ol inky air, Rol Ion! It’s true I Vo got no shills to wear; It’s trne my butcher’s hill is due; It’s true my prospects all look blue; But don’t let that unsettle you! Never you mind! Roll on! —.Yew England Homestead. Gloomy Thonglitsaud Gloomy Weather. Dull, depressing, dingy days produce dispiriting reflections and gloomy thoughts, and small wonder when we remember that the mind is not only a motive, but a receptive organ, and that all the impressions it receives from with, out reach it through the media of senses which are directly dependent on the con ditions of light and atmosphere for their action, and therefore immediately in fluenced by the surrounding conditions. It is a common-sense inference that if the impressions from without reach the mind through imperfectly-acting organs of sense, and thise impressions are in themselvijj set in a minor lesthethic key of color, sound, and general qualities, the mind must be what is called “ moody.” It is not the habit of even sensible people to make sufficient allow ance for this rationale of dullness and subjective weakness. Some persons are more dependent on external circum stances and conditions for (heir energy —or the stimulus that converts poten tial kinetic force—than others; but all feel the influence of the world without, and to this influence the sick and the weak are especially responsive. Hence the varying temperaments of minds changing with the weather, the outlook, and the wind .--London Lancet.