Georgia Historic Newspapers

    THE WEEKLY.
"CONYERS, - GEORGIA
Nations of the (llobe.
The following is a full list of the
Rations of the world, each of which has
its own distinctive national colors or
flag: The United States of America,
Mexico, Nicaragua, Honduras, Guate¬ the
mala, San Salvador, Costa Rica,
United States of Colombia, Ecuador,
Peru, Bolivia, Chili, Argentine Confed¬
eration, Uruguay, Paraguay, Brazil,
Venezuela, all Hayti and San Domingo, nation¬
which are the independent
alities of North and South America
and the West India Islands; Great
Britain and her dependencies in both
hemispheres, France and her dependen¬
cies in Asia, Africa and Oceanica,
the German Empire, Austro-Hungary,
Russia, Italy, Spain and her dependen¬
cies in both hemispheres, Portugal Africa, and
her dependencies in Asia and
Switzerland, Belgium, Netherlands
and her dependencies in both
hemispheres, Denmark and her
colonial possessions, Sweden anil
Norway, Greece, Roumania, Serna,
Montenegro, Turkey or the Ottoman
Empire, Andorra, San Marino, and
Monaco; the only independent savage), states
■of Africa (except those wholly
Liberia, Orange River Free State,
Transvaal Republic, Morocco, and
Abyssinia; the only independent Burmali, na¬
tionalities of all Asia—Persia,
Afghanistan. Beloochistan, Siam,
China and Japan; finally the Sand¬
wich Islands. This makes a total of
fifty-seven nations universally recog¬
nized and diplomatically treated as
such, although several of them, like
Afghanisant and Burmali, are little
more than nominally independent, and
two of them—Monaco, with an area of
bf square miles, or less than a Con¬
gressional township in this country,
and a population less than 0,000, barely anil 23
San Marino, with an area of
8-10 square miles and less than 8,000
inhabitants—are so insignificant in com¬
parison with their great neighbors that
it seems a mockery of the name to call
them nations in the sense in which the
term is used in international law.
A Western Editor.
The announcement is privately made
that the lion. William E. Cramer, the
veteran publisher and editor of Milwau¬
kee, will soon start w’ith his wife on
another trip to Europe. A local paper
saj’s: For a generation Mr. Cramer
has been one editors of the leading and most
successful and publishers to Wis¬
consin. He has built up the Evening
Wisconsin establishment into one of
the best-paying branches of business iu
Milwaukee, has amassed a handsome
fortune, and is still a hard worker in the
editorial harness, and at the same time
Jooks after his groat business interests.
Bui the most remarkable part of all this
is, that he performs all bis labor he iu spite has
of the fact that for many years
been almost entirely blind and deaf. H*
is led about the city by an aid attendant,
and can hear only by the of the
audiphone or other artificial appliance.
He dictates his editorials—which appear
to increase iu amanuensis, ability as he and increases the daily to
years—to an read to him by the
papers are same
person. keen for the
He lias as a scent news as
most enthusiastic reporter, and there is
little of importance going on in the
world about him with the details of
which he is not acquainted. He has
already traveled widely in Europe, has
made an extended tour of Mexico, and
has been in nearly Nowhall every State iu the
Union. The House was bis
home for many years ; and at the time
of the burning of the hotel he had a very
narrow escape from burning to death ,
indeed, for many weeks after the fire it
was generally believed that he would not
survive bis injuries. His great accumu¬
lation of wealth has been attended by a
most charitable disposition, and his
bounties to deserving objects have been
many and large. Though suffering
from the almost entire loss of two
senses, and advanced to years, he enjoys and
excellent health, has an erect figure,
dresses with the utmost elegance and
neatness. He and his wife will carry
with them on their trip abroad the best
wishes of the community for a pleasant
journey and a safe return.
The Oldest Historians.
Herodotus is the oldest of the Greek
historians. He was boru 484 B. C.
He is generally recognized as the father
of history. Berosus was an educated
priest of Babylon, who lived about 360
B. C., and wrote in Greek three books
of Babylonian-Chaldean history, the
materials for which he declares he
found in the ancient archives of Baby¬
lon. Manetho was an Egyptian histo¬
rian, of the priestly order, who lived to
the reign of Ptolemy Sotor, in the be¬
ginning jf the third century B. C. He,
too, obtained the material for his works
from the temple records at his com¬
mand, from which he wrote two works,
one ou the religion and the other on tlio
history of Egypt. Only fragments of
of the writing of Berosus and Manetho
remain—preserved in the works of Jo¬
sephus, Euaebius and other later
writers. There arc historical records
on the ancient monuments of Egypt,
Babylon and Assyria which date back
to earlier days, but, except the histor¬
ical books of the Old Testament, be¬
ginning with those of Moses (who was
born 1738 B. C.), and some of the writ¬
ings of Confueins (born 551 B. C.),
there is nothing antedating the writings
of Herodotus that is regarded as his¬
tory.
Iron Ships. —The works for building
iron ships in San Francisco will be, the
Bulletin says, the most extensive of any
in the United States.
It is with narrow-souled people less they as
with narrow-necked bottles; the
have in them the more noise they make
to [K urina out.
Diw- Yates, of Shanghai, says t ho
Chinese pay $154,752,000 annually to
quiet the spirits of their ancestors.
A HARD PARTING—BUT WHY?
C.omo out in tn» garden and walk with me.
While the dancers whirl to that dreamy tune,
See ! the moonlight silvers the sleeping sea,
And the world is fair as a night in June.
Let me hold your hand as I used to do;
This is the last, last lime, you know,
For to-morrow a wooer comes to woo
And to win you, though I love you so.
You are pale—or is it the moonlight’* gleam
That gives to your face that sorrowful look ?
We must wake at last from our summer's dream.
We have come to the end of our tender book
Love, the poet, has written well;
He has won our hearts by his poem sweet;
And now, at the end, we must say farewell—
Ah, but the summer was fair and fleet.
Do you remember the night we met?
You wore a rose in your yellow hair,
Closing my eyes I can see you yet,
Just as you stood on the upmost stair.
A flutter of white from bead to feet,
A cluster of buds on your breast. Ah me !
Cut the vision was never half so sw’ect
As it is to-night in my memory.
Hear the viols cry, and the deep bassoon
Seems sobbing out in its undertone,
Some sorrowful memory. The tune
Is the saddest one I have ever known;
Or is it because we must part to-night
That the music seems sad? Ah me !
You are weeping, Love, and your lips are
white—
The way s of life are a mystery.
£ love you, Love, with a love so true
That in coming years I shall not forget
The beautiiul face and the dream I knew,
And memory always will hold regret;
I shall stand by the seas as we stand to-night
And tliink of the summer whose blossoms
died,
When the frosts of fate fell chill and white
On the fairest flower of the summer tide.
They are calling you. Must I let you go ?
Must I say good-by, and go my way?
If we must pari, it is better so—
Good-by’s such a sorrowful word to say !
Give me, my darling, one last sweet kiss—
So we kiss our dear ones, and see them die,
But death holds no parting so sad as this;
God bless you, and keep you—and so—
good-by ! —Uawkeye.
THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE.
A BROKEN ENGAGEMENT CEMENTED BT A
LITTLE KNOWN GLOVE.
“Does it please yon, Katy ?”
‘ ‘Oh, it’s splendid! I should not have
suited myself half so well had I been left
to choose. ”
“But you have not seen the wine cel¬
lar yet. It is a treasure of its kind.
Let’s go down again.” stairs together,
They went down the
he talking gaily, she with a troubled
look ou her face. After duly admiring
the place she put a timid hand on liis
arm and said: “But, Arthur, dear, let’s
have no wine in it.”
“Why?” he asked in surprise.
“Because I have resolved if I am ever
the mistress of a house there shall be no
liquors kept to it—no ‘socialg lasses,’ for
friends.’’
“Why, Katy, you are unreasonable.
I did not know you carried your tem¬
perance opinions as far as that. Of
course I shall keep wine in mv honse
and entertain my friends with it too.”
She raised her face appealingly. of voioo
“Arthur I” she said, to a tone
which he kuew how to interpret.
Arthur’s face grew clouded.
“But you cannot fear for me,” he
said, with half-offended pride.
“I must fear for you, Arthur, if you
begin in this way. And I fear for others
besides—for the sons and husbands and
fathers who may learn at our cheerful
board to love the poisou that shall slay
them.”
They went up the stairs again for and sat
on the sofa to the dining-room a few
moments, while Katy put on her hat and
drew ou her gloves. kept It is
The argument was should up. repeat all
unnecessary that we
that was said on both sides. It ended
at last as similar discussions have ended
before. Neither was willing to yield—
Katy, because she felt that her whole
future happiness might be involved in
it; Arthur, because he thought it would
be giving way to a woman’s whims, and
would sacrifice too much of his popular¬
ity with hiB friends.
He had bought this house, paid and for in it
and furnished it handsomely, a
few weeks was to bring Katy as its mis¬
tress. All the afternoon they had been
looking over it together, happy as two
birds with a new finished nest. But
when Arthur closed the door and put
the key in his pocket, in the chill, wan¬
ing light of the December afternoon,
and gave Katy his arm te see her home,
it was all “ broken To up” ” between put them, the
and a notice “ Let was over
door of the pretty house the very next
morning. the most foolish thing to do;
It was
but then lovers can always find some¬
thing to quarrel about. cool Good
Thev * parted with a her “ to even¬
ing.” She went np to room cry;
he went home hurt and angry, but ao
oretelv resolving to see her again and
give her a chance to say she was iu the
wrong. But the chance never came.
When he called again she hail left the
town, and he could find no trace of her.
All this happened more than a year
before I saw Katy; but we three “fac¬
tory girls,” who lodged at Mrs. Howell's
with her, of course, knew nothing about
it She came to the factory and applied
for work. The superintendent thought
her too delicate for such labor, but she
persisted; and in faot, she improved she bo- iu
health, spirits and looks after
came used to the work and simple fare
of the factory girls.
She was a stranger to us all, and it
seemed likely Mary that she would dress remain caught so.
But one day Bascom’s aud before
in a part of the machinery,
one else could think what to do,
Katy had sprung to her side and pulled
her away by main strength from the ter¬
rible danger that threatened her. After
that Mary aud Lizzie Payne and I were
Katy’s sworn allies. together to the big
We ail lodged
“Factory Boarding House.” But Katy
took it into her head that we should have
so much nicer times in a private lodging
to ourselves, and when she took any¬
thing into her head she generally carried
it through. In less than a week sbehad
found the very place she wanted, ar¬
ranged matters with the superintendent
and had us sheltered under Mrs. How¬
ell’s vine and fig-tree. Wo four girls
were the proud possessors of a tolerably
large double-bedded apartment with a
queer little dressing-room attached—
“and the liberty of the parlor to receive
callers in”—a proviso at which we all
laughed.
This was “home’’to ijfl after the labor
of the day. Indeed ana in truth Katy
made the place so charming girls” that we for¬
got we were “factory when we got
to it. She improvised cunning little
things out of trifles that are usually
thrown away as useless, and the flowers
growing in broken pots in our windows
were a glory to behold. She always had
a fresh book or periodical on brought the table,
and, better than this, she to us
the larger cultivation and the purer taste
which taught us how to use opportuni¬
ties within our reach.'
“What made you take to our style of
life, Katy ?” asked Lizzie one evening as
we sat in the east window watching the
outcoming of the stars and telling girlish
dreams.
“Destiny, my child,” answered Katy,
stooping to replace the little boot she
had thrown off to rest her foot.
“But you might have been an author¬
ess, or a painter, or a—a bookkeeper,
or—”
Lizzie’s knowledge of the world was
rather limited; Katy broke in upon her:
“There, that will do. I was not born
a genius, and I hate arithmetic.’'
“But you ?” did not Mary. always have to work
for a living said
Katy laughed a queer, short laugh.
“Yes,” shesaid, “and that’s why I don't
know’ how to get my living in any way
but this. So behold !” me a healthy and
honest factory girl
She rose, made a little bow and a
flourish with her small hands, and we
all laughed, although she said nothing
funny.
“Milly,” and said she, “please light the
lamp get the magazine, while I hunt
up my thimble and thread. Ladies, I
find myself under the necessity of mend¬
ing my gloves this evening. Ob, Pov¬
erty ! where is thy sting ? In a shabby
glove, I do believe, for nothing hurts
me like that, unless it be a decaying
boot.”
She sat and patiently mended the little
rents, while I read aloud; and when she
had finished the gloves looked almost
new.
The next day was Saturday and w r e
had a half-holiday. trifling Katy and I wen t to
make some purchases and on our
way home stopped at the big boarding¬
house to see one of the girls who was ill.
When we came out Katy ran across
the street to get a magazine from the
news stand and came hurrying up to
overtake me before I turned the corner.
She had the magazine open and one of
her hands was ungloved; but it was not
until we reached home that she found
she had lost a glove. It was too late
then to go and look for it. We went
and searched the next morning, but
could not find it.
Katy mourned for it. girls,” said she,
“It was my only pair,
tragically; “and it is a loss that can not
be repaired.”
What people call a “panic” had oc¬
curred in financial circles in the spring and
after Arthur Craig had lost his Katy, found
almost without a day’s warning he
himself a poor man. He left liis affairs
in the luufds of his creditors—having
satisfied himself that they could gather
enough from the wreck to save them¬
selves.
He had been educated for a physician,
though fortune made amerchant of him.
Learning from a friend that there was
an opening for a doctor in Fenwick, he
came here and began practice.
Dr. Swell had gone off on a visit, leav¬
ing his patients in charge of the new
doctor, and so it came about that on that
Saturday evening he was on his way to
visit Maggie Lloyd, the sick girl at the
lodging house, when, just after turning
the corner near the news-shop, he saw a
brown glove lying on the pavement. He
was about to pass it by, but a man’s in¬
stinct to pick up anything of value that
seems to have no owner made him put it
in his pocket. He forgot all about it the
next minute.
But when he had made his call and
returned to his consulting-room, to tak¬
ing a paper from his pocket, the glove
fell out, aad he picked it up and looked
at it with idle curiosity.
It was old, but well preserved. It
had been mended often, but so neatly as
to make him regard mending as one of
the fine arts. It had a strangely familiar
look to him. Little and brown and
shapely it lay on his knee, bearing the
form of the hand that had worn it.
As ho gazed at it there came to him
the memory of an hour, many months
past, when he had sat by Katy’s side on
the green sofa to the dining-room of
“their house” (alas) and watched her put
her small hands into a pair of brown
gloves so much like this one.
Ever since that never-to-be-forgotten
day the vision of liis lost love, sitting
there to the fading light, slowly filling draw¬
ing on her glove, her sweet eyes
as they talked—quarrelled we should
say, perhaps—had gone with him as an
abiding memory of her, until he had
come to know each shade of the picture
—the color of the dress, the ribbon at
the throat and the shaded plome to her
hat
He looked at the glove a long time.
He had thought it had belonged to one
of the factory girls, and he found it
near the lodging house. But it did not
look like a “factory hand’s” glove. He
would ask Maggie Lloyd, pocket at any rate; so
he put it carefully in his until he
should make his calls the next morning.
Ho had suffered the glove to be so as¬
sociated with the memory of a past that
was sacred to him that he felt his cheek
bum and his hand tremble as he drew
it forth to show it to Maggie, who was
sitting, to the comfort of convalescence,
in an arm chair by the window, watch¬
ing the handsome young doctor write
the prescription for her benefit.
“By the way, Miss Maggie, do you
know whose glove this is?”
Maggie knew it at once. It was Miss
Gardiner's glove.
“Miss Gardiner!”
The name made his heart beat again,
“Is she one of the factory hands ?”
“Yes; but she lodges with Mrs. How
ell quite out of town, almost; she was
here to see me yesterday. ”
“Ob, I see 1” said be, not the most
relevantly. “And you can tell me bow
to find Mrs. Howell’s house? I suppose
I couid go by and restore this glove to
its owner.”
Maggie thought this unnecessary
trouble, but she gave the required direc¬
tion and he went out, saying of to himself, but
“It can’t be my Katy, course, owner.”
the glove shall go back to its
*******
Mary and Lizzie went to church that
Sunday morning. Katy declared she
couldn’t go, having but one glove. I
stayed at home with her, and offered to
keep Mrs. Howell’s children for her, and
so persuaded that worthy woman to at¬
tend worship with the girls.
And this is how it came about, that
while we were having a frolic on the car¬
pet with the children in Mrs. Howell’s
room, we heard a ring at the door, and
Bridget having taken herself off some¬
where, there was no help for it but for
one of us to answer the summons.
“You go, Katy,” whispered I, in dis¬
may. “I cannot appear. ”
Katy glanced serenely at her own
frizzy head in the looking-glass, gave a
pull to her overskirt and a touch to her
collar, and opened the door.
Immediately afterward I was shocked
by hearing her utter a genuine feminine
scream and seeing her drop to the floor,
and that a man, a perfect stranger to
me, gathered her up in his arms and be¬
gan raving over her in a manner that as¬
tonished me. He called her his “dar¬
ling” and his “own Katy,” and actually
kissed her before I could reach her.
I was surprised at myself afterward
that I hadn’t ordered the gentleman out,
but it never occurred to me at the time;
and when Katy “came to” speeches, and sat upon she
the sofa and heard his
seemed so much pleased that I left them
and took the children up to our room,
feeling bewildered all over.
What shall I say further ? Only that
Katy lives in the pretty house in the
town known as Dr. Craig’s residence,
where we three “ factory girls” And have there a
home whenever we want it.
are no liquors found on her side board
nor at her table.
One day I heard Arthur say: “You
were a silly child, Kate, to run away
from me. I should have given up the
point at last, I know. ”
“ But there would have been the
splendid cellar and the ten thousan d a
year,” answered she. “It would have
been such a temptation. We are safer
as it is, dear.”
To Cure Sleeplessness.
Druggists tell us that there is a
growing demand for various medicines
and preparations containing opiates in
one shape or another. People wreck
their nervous systems by injudicious
habits of life, and the result is unsound
sleep, dyspepsia and countless other
evils. A little advice to such persons
may not be out of place. They should,
of course, be careful to abandon that
method of life which brings them into
physical disorder. Their complaint
may be fed by tobacco; narcotics
should be avoided. One cause of their
trouble may be that they take insuf¬
ficient ekercise. Perhaps they drink
too much tea or coffee, or eat too much
flesh meat. There are a thousand
practices allowed by convention which
are in themselves harmful and prejudi¬
cial to health.
The quantity of sleep may be im¬
proved by diminishing the length of
time spent in bed. A hot shower-bath
at bed-time cleanses the skin and pre¬
disposes to sleep. Many a toiling
business or literary man goes to bed
tired and worn out, only to toss from
one side to another. His brain is hot
and full of blood, while liis feet are
cold. He thinks over again the thoughts
that have been engaging his attention
during the day, or does over again the
business that has called forth his en¬
ergies for twelve or sixteen hours past.
His night is a round of tossing to and
fro. Is there any wonder that, failing
to find out what is the true and natural
remedy for his pains, he resorts to
opiates, which he knows will give him
temporary relief?
There is one sure and safe way to
remedy liis pains. If, . after leaving
work, he would take a brisk walk of a
mile or two before going to bed, and
then, after the walk, hold his head un¬
der a stream of cold water, he would find
relief—that is, supposing he does this
when he is first troubled with sleepless
nights. But, no; if he lives a half a
mile or more from his work he takes a
ear home, and, throwing off his clothes,
goes to bed as quickly as possible.
The want of balance between mental
and physical labor is a fruitful cause of
sleeplessness. Many a business man,
whose duties keep him in an office all
day, would improve liis health a great
deal if he were to fit up his attic as a
carpenter shop and spend an hour there¬
to after supper. This, of course, would
be beneficial only if he happened to
have a liking for mechanics; then he
would find his occupation afforded him
amusement, mental occupation and
muscular effort to just the proper pro¬
portions.— Herald of Health.
A Rat Story.
The following story comes from the
weet: “About a month ago a resident
of Denver, Col., was alarms at night
by what he thought the sawing and cut¬
Stealing ting of a burglar in light an and upper pistol room. in
up stairs, He finally
hand, he began prospecting.
discovered that a rat had got into an
empty room and was trying to make his
way to some other part of the honse.
The animal had torn splinters of pine
wood out of the bottom of the door two
and three inches in length. How he
got into the room was a mystery, until
observations were taken by daylight.
Then it was seen that the rat had
climbed a scaffold pole that had which been left it
standing by the builders, from the
leaped six feet into the window of
room, which had been left open on ac¬
count of fresh paint inside. In leaving
the room the rat made a dash through
the window, and probably caught on the
same pole.”
New Yorkers claim to live to a whirl
and to have time for nothing, but there
is no city in the land where a crowd has
more time to stop and investigate a dog
fight or a row between bootblacks.—In¬
trait Free Frets.
FIVE DAYS ON A WRECK.
THE THRILLING EXPERIENCE OF A
At«0« WOMAN ON LAKE ERIE VEAR.fi
The Scboener In which She Tubes Pnssace
Meets a Squall and Fills with W’nter.
and the Drew, Supposing Her to bo
Ill-owned, Desert the Schooner.
A Buffalo letter says:-The recent dig
asters on the lakes, with their usual at
tendant of loss of life and property and
nan-ow escapes of shipwrecked sailors
and passengers, have given old lake
sailors opportunity of recalling many
cunous gation and either thrilling incidents of navi
on one or the other of these
great inland seas. The most remarka
ble experience that has been related is
that of an elderly woman, an aunt of the
the late Gillman Appleby, who com
manded lake craft for forty years. Fif
ty years ago he lived at Conneant. Ohio,
and was at that time one of the owners
and captain of a well known schooner,
the State of Connecticut. Mrs. Wil
liam Johns, his aunt, was visiting at his
father’s house, and became suddenly
homesick and expressed her determma
tion to return to her home at Black
Rock on her nephew’s schooner, which
was about ready to leave for Buffalo,
The captain was then superintending NortlT
the building of the steamboat
America at Conneaut, a vessel which he
afterward commanded. It would be
to....................
begged his aunt lo await and return
home on board the new vessel. She in
sisted on returning at once, and the cap
sdastfr 1w - ch ” Be ot
Two (lays after the crew retained to
Conneaut m another vessel. They re
ported that just after they passed Erie
and they violent were caught ny one of those sudden
squalls that are such a ter
rorto the sailors on Lake Erie The
schooner was capsized, but, although m a
short time becoming full of water did not
sink. Mrs. Johns was in the cabin, and
drowned, the crew, and believing that she was
themselves, being anxious to save
lowered the schooners boat
and deserted the vessel without paying
any attention to the passenger They
succeeded in reaching shore safely at a
small village near Dunkirk, and made
their way feusk te Conneout.
Ik was the third day after the wreck
before Capt. Appleby could arrange to
go in search of the body of lus aunt,
The steamboat Peacock, from Detroit,
which was on its way to Erie and Bui'
alo, was engaged by Ca_pt Appleby to
ook for the wreck and take the body of
his aunt to Buffalo. The steamboat
came across the wreck, wlnoh was drift
mg on its side as it had been left, and a
number of the crew boarded it. In mak
mg an examination of its condition they
found it to oil appearances full of water,
They thrust poles down into the cabin,
but. did not come in contact witti any
thing floating about. Believing that the
body had floated out m the lake, they
left the wreck as they had found it.
Word to this effect was sent to Capt,
Appleby, and on the fifth day after the
schooner had been capsized he went in
search of her himself, with facilities for
righting her, if found. A son of the
missing woman accompanied him. They
found the schooner still drifting about
in the lake on her side.
After several hours the schooner was
straightened up on her keel, and before
she had hardly righted Mrs. Johns, hag
gard, worn almost to a skeleton, and
every shred of her clothing dripping
with water, staggered up the cabin
stairs and fell unconscious on the deck,
The thought of her being alive never
having been entertained, her sudden ap
pearance before her relatives and the
crew was so startling that the crew fled
in terror to the other vessel, and it was
some time before the captain and his
nephew recovered their self-possession.
Mrs. Johns was restored to conscious
ness, but she was so weak that she was
unable until the next day to tell how
she had saved herself and managed to
keep alive during the five days the
schooner was drifting about on the lake,
She said that when the schooner went
over she did not know’ what had hap
pencil. She was thrown down, and by
the time she arose to her feet the water
was up to her waist. It subsequently
rose to her arm pits, and was at that
height most of the time. She could not
lie down, and although the cabin door
was open the water was nearly three feet
above it, and she could not get out.
When the crew of the steamboat Pea¬
cock boarded the wreck she could hear
the men walk and talk overhead. She
saw the pole they thrust into the cabin,
but it always came in at a spot where it
could not touch her nor she grasp it, and
before she could make her way to the
spot the pole would be withdrawn and
thrust in at another distant place. This
failure to make her presence known, she
said, removed every vestige of hope for
her.
Ail that Mrs. Jones had had to eat was
a water soaked cracker and an onion,
which came floating to her. Twice she
tried to drown herself by putting her
head under water, but she could not.
She fell asleen several times while stand¬
ing to the water. It was only by the
most superhuman efforts that she gath¬
ered sufficient strength to make her way
np the cabin stairs when the schooner
was righted by Capt. Appleby. She
heard the men walking from the time
they arrived on the scene. She did not
know who they were, and listened to
them in a listless, dazed manner, which
only left her when the vessel turned
back on her keel. Then she appreciated
the situation, and escaped from the scene
of her five days’ misery and terror. Mrs.
Johns lived many years after her extra¬
ordinary experience on the schooner,
and always spoke of it with a shudder.
Temperate. —The Romans under the
Republic were prohibitionists honorable family after a
fashion. Men of were
forbidden by law to drink wine before
the age of thirty, or to drink to excess;
while for women of any condition, free
or slave, to touch wine except on some
solemn occasion, as a sacrifice, penalties. was an
offence visited by severe
Hence originated the custom of girls
kissing their parents on tteir lips as had a
means of discovery whether they the
been sampling the contents of
family amphorae. But thel vw, as affect¬
ing women, was in time so tar modified
that they were permitted to drink wine
made from boiled must or ra sins.
A DONATION PARTY.
| THE K I; ( () It M WHICH II \s TA1U
El,All; OF LATE VE.AHs.
A Western Editnr 'ell* hew
I hove them (hc, t , ® , t8
I mu ilini Way.
[?1 °- m ,h< MiHva; ‘ kl e Sun.]
Yu t ^ -
of the Methodist riS aah ! ^ the
™ e ?‘' xt Wedc
day evening notin'to- i the Preacher es
There is t
of life
a greater outrac-e anThJZhl on 1 tl ace that »
tion party tttwf ! an the l3< ®a
very rare to 7 s aca P^iee are
-wl*’. , b twei %-<ive
years a<m rninltl thev T™* 1
with every thfoldlfi W1 doeB afi ^
member toTwherathe't l'?* ■ ?\ d< f ation not re,
o 3nrned P»
regardless of f or reli gion? out,
The donation hot rt’fi a „ ml
study was to see ’ the
carry to the house 6 ° u e could
be carried aw™ lf h °* “" f 3l ch ,?.e could
would take nomul NlT”' f r °cer
family^ a r 81 * 11 1 ^ tea
and his upteethe^ and t ^J°iE , a,lbe
used wnntl lam
ily 0 f the The eroeer , * e 7f ytlun
in sight merrf.w nt would send 8
■ a
remnant of enolmh cilico t ° r “
and not wouldu’fwish for apron
calico Kwho°were T1 t ' le ss > and the
,
country produce a mmrte V nf i beef ? ln or
somethin"- solid >
brought The td l„i it ** Jad
into a bedlam the tUmed
would shake hands with everybody poor minister
sss *2
and se „ Kotliet donetioi St ?
but family would try to look g Q ed
they would look sick ’
Tim sisters would take refraslimls possession of
the kitchen and serve the armS Si
the brethren would stand wondS
talk about everything JresliLnteSdS and ■,
wasn’t time to have fed
home, and the young people furnitoS won!
a room upstairs that had no Se
carpet and organize a kissing bee T
the young fellow with a stand-up 1
and oil on his hair, and whose i4 fotW
kept a store, could get all the wlfrl »
nnd the bashful voting fellows
hadn’t any wU gal wordd tarot' get lrfi *
tl,« room „e wittau™
stove, and there would be more fan Urn
a barrel of monkeys, while the nNto Ld
on the ceiling bdoiv would be ki< nff
into the scalloped oysters. The Methn. I
dist and Baptist societies were the fa
vorites for donations, because they I
would let the young people have full run
0 f the Episcopal house, while the Congregational
and would corrall and watch
them, and people, seem unless not to yearn for‘the
young they came heeled
with money, or its equivalent It would
take a minister’s family a moiffk to
clear away the wreck of the donation
parky, and the fourteen dollars in cash
that was donated, would about pav for
plastering the ceiling, and a. new bottom
to the boiler, which would be burned off
m making the coffee. The people would
go away feeling that they had done nbig
thing for the minister, and many would
wonder why his family did not dress
better.
The man of God would eat cake that
was left, for a month after, and try to
preach beef steak sermons on a stomach fl
that "was banked up with sponge cake,
and the dyspeptic look on his face would
bo mistaken for true inwardness, and he
would get credit for being good when he
w -as only sick. As long as the minister
had a black coat and hat and whitetie, the
congregation did not inquire how he was
fixed for undershirts and drawers, in
which to walk four miles to preach, on a
winter’s Sunday. It is to the credit of
congregations that the donation parties
of years ago have given place to a business
basis for a preacher to work on, and now
a salary and no donation is generally in
s j s ted on. If the salary is small the
minister reflects that there is no dona- 1
tion party to help eat it up, and if it is
largo he is expected to give largely to
charity. Any way he has money for his
work, and where a church is conducted
a s a business, and the minister does not
i iave to wear himself out collecting his
salary, his lot is not the unhappy one
that it was when you and I were young,
To a minster who gets three thousand
dollars in cash for a year’s services it
must be a harrowing thing to look back
to the time when he got a donation party
once a year. He must feel that the
world moves.
Iaisscs in Battle.
In the days of hand-to-hand fighting,
when missile weapons were employed j
a comparatively small portion ot ■ •
combatants, the vanquished ami were the gen¬ T1
erally almost annihilated At _
tors suffered enormously. own
40,000 Romans out, of 80,000 were killed.
At Hastings the Normans, though th»j
victors, lost 10,000 out of 60,000 , afld
at Crecy 30,000 Frenchmen out aim
000 were, it is asserted, killed,'m J
reckoning the wounded. When t
flint-lock reigned the average ot
proportion of the killed and w .
to ten battles, beginning with Zend *
to 1758 and ending with Waterloo,
from one-fourth to one-fifti
troops present on both Zorndorf, ^aes. ^
heaviest loss was at
32,916 men out of 82,000 were
wounded. It was also v ®rv out “ ;
Evlau, being 55,000 casmflhes ^a,
160.000.men. In tto used c * m P a, ^ both t f
in 1850, rifles were on
and we find that the proportion^ at W
unities to combatants one-eleventh was w j
and Solfertoo of to to h
Franco-Prussian war armed *ith ®
both sides were proport
loading rifles, the average iVorth p
killed and wounded at and
eren, Mars-le-Tour, Gravelofle ^
dan was one-ninth—the hea
Mars-le-Tour, whe , v ,
being at 1
“»‘
where it was
Athenceum.
(Tenn.) An Editor Era says: in There X! i Xittk’ w
this office who in ^ 0 ,
man in to ca31 w
gave ns the right the . .^ an tju
has worked at cue twog*
mouths, but who can set ^
duties besides. Shenotonly^