The Conyers weekly. (Conyers, Ga.) 18??-1888, October 17, 1884, Image 1
FRAUD IN CANNED GOODS. ,n the Way ot Advice to the gometbtos who Use These Goods. parties Th & News' Letter, of San Francisco, lhas been carrying on a •warfare against dishonest canned goods, ca.lwg to its y the skill of chemists whose analyses been made without knowing who liave of the goods analyzed. were the packers the cheap com¬ The paper showed how pounds attacked start from a base ot vegetable substance, and are then col d and flavored in simulation of dif¬ ore dyes and flavors being ferent fruits, the chemicals. A distinction was made between adulterations and frauds, the former being admixtures of cheap •foreign substances with fruit products, -the latter compounds contaning nothing of the fruits they purport to be. The latter class embraces. blackberry and currant juice, and currant, lemon, and orange jellies. To make Bure of their ground in attacking a particular firm of canners in San Francisco, the News Letter publisher bought a pot of “orange-blossom honey” and a can of “table peaches’' of the fraudulent brand and, after concealing the label, sub¬ mitted the goods to a skilled chemist for analysis. The “honey” was found to be composed of the following substances, 100 being assumed as a basis: Glucose 56.5. water 25.0, honey 150, sugar 3.5, that is, only 15 per cent, of the stuff was honey, the substance which the com¬ pounders advertised the whole to be. In the case of the peaches the chemist seems to have found not enough basis for a numerical exhibit. He simply said: “I find the peaches in a very bad condition, a mere mass of pulp. The can contained a very small quantity of saccharine liquid consisting principally of glucose.” The commercial evidence against fraudulent canners as presented bv the News Letter is peculiarly con¬ vincing. The cost to pack “straight” or honest goods is given as follows: 24 pounds of (say) raspberries and sugar at 8 cents per pound..... $1 92 1 dozen cans.................... 34 1 case costs 14 cents, equals per dozen cans.................... 07 Labels, per dozen............... 04 Cooking and labor, per dozen.... 05 ’Weighing and capping, per dozen 02 Labelling and casing............ 01 Actual cost per dozen cans. $2 45 When sold at $2 70 per dozen, there¬ fore, “straight” canned fruits, in two pound cans, give the packer a profit of 10 per cent., which is a fair work¬ ing profit on the business. Sold at $2 45 per dozen, they simply cover cost. Sold at $1 75 to $1 90 per dozen, which are the prices fixed by some canneries, either there is a loss of 59 cents to 70 cents on every dozen cans of fruit sold, or glucose has been substituted for sugar, and some other vegetable base for the alleged fruit. The Hearing of School Children. The medical journals indorse, without exception, the suggestion made by Dr. Well, in the Archives of Otology, based on his examination of the ears and hear¬ ing of nearly 6,000 school children, namely, that in every case of inattention the child should have its ears examined, so convinced is he of the fact that chil¬ dren who are simply hard of hearing are often misjudged and considered inatten¬ tive. Indeed, such an examination, he thinks, would be desirable once or twice a year for every child, the test being made in the school-room Itself if there be no other room convenient; that is, the teacher could place the pupil in one corner of the room, then retire to the other himself, and test each ear sep arately by whispering—causing the words and sentences used to be repeated by the pupil, and thus easily find out which of them are hard of hearing. This, it is believed, would have the further advantage of calling the atten¬ tion of parents to the condition of their children, and inducing them to act accordingly, or, what would be still better, a surgeon should have the health of the schools in charge, including the examination of the ears of every pupil whom the teacher finds inattentive. Chain-Armored Girls. Young lady—“Have yon chain armor?” Storekeeper—“Chain armor? We’ve got a few pieces that we keep as curiosities—yes.” Young lady—“But I want to purchase a suit, one, that will fit me.” Storekeeper—“No doubt we could make one for you; but pray, if I ma y be so bold, what can you want chain armor for?” Yonng lady—“I’ll tell you. I met a young fellow at the picnic the other day, and in the course of onr conversation I foolishly invited him to call. He is coming to-morrow evening. Of course he will propose, and of course I shall reject his addresses; for really, I don’t like him. Hence yon see that it will be necessary to have my chain armor in season. ” Storekeeper— “Pardon me, but I don’t quite see the connection.” Young lady-“Why, when I say ‘No,’ he will draw his pistol and shoot me; for, yon know, he loves me witn a pure, unselfish love that is past expression. Unless I have my armor I shall probably be killed.’’—ffosfon Transcript. It is somewhat unfortunate that tht bank cashier never commits suicide un¬ til he has wrecked the bank. What the country wants is a species of cashier who will experiment with his vital spark before he thinks of monkeying with the cafe. The Conyers Weekly. VOL. VII. FARMER NICE’S SCARECROW. Out in the cornfield, grouped together, A flock of crows discussed the weather. Observing them, thrifty Farmer Nick Declared that the crows were “gettin’ too thick.” “ I must have a scarecrow—that is true; Now, would not that old umbrella do?” So into the house the farmer went, And away to the field the umbrella sent. One rainy day the farmer went out To view the corn fields lying about; He neared the umbrella; looked inside; And what he saw made him laugh till he ‘ cried ! For in there, out of the rainy weather , A dozen crows were huddled together 1 So the farmer, laughing as farmers should. Said: “I fear my scarecrow did little good.” Noka E. Ckosbi. in St. Nicholas. TJncle Cntlibert. “Hush ! It is Clarence Hyde’s step I” And Rose Eldon sprang to her feet, rosy and smiling, with freshly-plucked helio¬ trope trembling among her glossy brown braids, and her pretty blue dress float¬ ing around her like an azure cloud. Only eighteen, and very fair and love¬ ly was our little Rosa—a trifle spoiled and willful, perhaps, but what else could one expect ? Every one petted and made much of her—every one smiled at her pretty, kittenish way—and Clarence Hyde thought her the fairest specimen of feminine humanity that ever the sun shone on. Lizzy Eldon made room for her sister —Lizzy, just one year younger and scarcely less fair, yet very different in character. Lizzy was quiet, and sage and demure, while Rosa rattled away like a merry mountain stream flowing over its mossy stones. Lizzy thought her sister perfection, while Rosa was lec¬ turing Lizzy in a capricious fashion, and laying down the law to her after the most approved manner of elder sisters. “How nice it must be to be engaged!” said 'Lizzy, with a half-encouraging smile, as Rosa paused at the glass to ad¬ just her hair. “I wish I was engaged 1” “You? Oh, you are nothing but a child,” Rosa said, patronizingly. “There —give me my pocket handkerchief.” And away she went, light and lithe as a blue-winged butterfly. Clarence Hyde was in the parlor anx¬ iously awaiting her coming, but Clar¬ ence had rather a disturbed face. He was a well-made, handsome fellow, with laughing, wine-brown eyes, straight fea¬ tures, and brown hair thrown back from a broad, frank brow. “Why, what makes yon look so so¬ ber?” was Rosa's first question, when the ceremonials of greeting were gone through with and she had time to take a good look into his face. “Sober ? Do I ?” He was playing rather restlessly with the crimson cord that looped back the white muslin draperies of the pretty bay window that made Mrs. Eldon’s cot¬ tage look like one of the lovely rustic habitations you see in old Engligh en¬ gravings. had the toothache “Exactly as if you or a bad conscience.” Clarence laughed in spite of himself. “You are wrong, then my little riddle guesser, I am afflicted with neither the one nor the other.” “Well, what is it, then?” “Rosa, what would yon say if it were to become necessary to defer our mar¬ riage for some time ?” A shadow came over the infantile bloom and freshness of Rosa’s face. “To defer onr marriage, Clarence? I can’t imagine what you mean.” “Listen, Rosa, and I will tell you. My uncle has just come from California, very poor and a confirmed invalid. I am his only surviving relative, and to me he naturally appealed for protection and companionship. I must give him a home, Rosa. You know I bad laid np just enough to begin housekeeping in a quiet, economical sort of way, but the new plan will necessarily alter all of my arrangements.” uncle before.” “I never heard of any “No, dearest; I knew very little of him—nothing personally, as he never visited my father’s during his life-time/’ Rosa’s face was turned away from Clarence Hyde’s; she was silently twist¬ ing a piece of paper round and round her slender forefinger. min “Rosa,” he said, after waiting a ate or two for her to make some remark, “tell me honestly, dear one, which yon prefer—to begin housekeep¬ ing on this new scale—one more frugal and humble than I had originally hoped and intended— or to defer onr marriage until I can earn enough to carry out those original arrangements.” She was silent for a moment, then she answered in a voice which seemed to chill Clarence’s buoyant yonng heart: “Neither f” “Bosar he “I do not un enough. Neither I” CONYERS, ROCKDALE CO., GA„ FRIDAY, OCTOBER 17, 1884. ‘‘Do you mean that-” “I mean that yon must either give up your uncle or me After all that has been said and known of onr engagement, after its publicity and length, I certainly cannot consent to a further postpone¬ ment. And we shall be poor enough if we marry immediately, without filling onr house with needy relatives.” Clarence Hyde looked at his fair fiancee in perfect amazement. Never in the -whole course of their acquaint¬ ance had he seen this phase of charac¬ ter. He had fancied her all that was sweet, pure and womanly. Could it be possible that she was cold-hearted, sel¬ fish and dead to all the sweet ties of nature ? “Rosa,” he said, mournfully, “is this to part ns ?” “It is for you to say.” “Do you wish me to give up my poor, dependent uncle ?” “Either him or me,” Rosa answered, indifferently. “It will be hard—very hard, for me to lay aside the brightest wishes of my life,” he said earnestly, “but, Rosa, duty is my first object. I cannot leave my uncle to wear out his few remaining days in poverty and solitude.” “Very well,” answered Rosa careless¬ ly, stooping to pick up the odorous pur¬ ple blossoms which had fallen from her hair, “then we shall consider onr en¬ gagement dissolved.” “And can you give me up so readily, Rosa?” “Oh,” said Rosa, a little impatiently, “where’s the use of being romantic about it ? You have chosen your path, I have chosen mine. So let it be!” Clarence Hyde took his leave, de¬ jected enough. It is not pleasant to set up a fair idol and worship it with all the strength and tenderness of your nature, only to find, after all, that it is dust and ashes—hollow-hearted and false ! Cuthbert Hyde sat smoking his brier wood meerschaum by the open window as Clarence entered—a square, shrewd looking old man, with deeply-seamed wrinkles on his brow, and restless, sparkling eyes, gleamiDg like live coals beneath his shaggy brows. “Clarence, my boy, something has gone wrong,” he said, brusquely, after he bad regarded his nephew in silence for awhile. “Tell the old UDcle what it is.” “I have told you about Rosa Eldon, sir; well, she and I are—in fact, it is all over between us." “Engagement broken, eh? Past the power of patching up?” “Yes, uncle.” “And it was on my account? Nay, bov; don’t turn away—I can read the truth in your eyes. So she played you false ?” “We are parted, unole—is not that enough ?” “Well, perhaps so—perhaps so. It is well you found her out in time, Clar¬ ence. It’s for the best, my boy.” Clarence Hyde was passing down the village street a day or two subsequently toward dnsk on a mellow August even¬ ing when a slight form glided up to him and a tremulous hand was laid upon his own. He started at first, bat quickly recognized the face and figure, “Lizzy Eldon!” “Oh, Clarence, I could not rest with¬ out telling you how very, very wrong I thought Rosa, and how sorry I am for yon.” think she “Thanks, Lizzy. I do not has treated me exactly right.” “How could she be so cruel, so un¬ womanly? Yon are right, Clarence— you acted nobly. I think Rosa will one day live to repent it” As Clarence stood there listening to Lizzy Eldon’s impetuous words and holding her soft little hand in his own* he wondered that he had never before noticed how very, very pretty she was— a softer, more subdued style of beauty than Rosa’s, yet not less bewitching in its way. They haunted him all night long, that oval, earnest face, those swimming blue eyes. Day by day Rosa’s image waxed fainter and more faint in his memory, and Lizzy’s shy, gentle looks grew more than ever present in his heart “I do believe I’ve fallen in love with the girl,” he thought “I wonder what she would tpy if I was to propose to her?” realiza¬ Next to the wonder came the tion. One fine October day, when they had strayed a little way from the gay nutting party, whose voices made the old yellow-leaved woods musical, Mr. Hyde asked Lizzy Eldon If she would accept the love her sister had slighted, and Lizzy, smiling and trembling, an¬ swered him, yes. “You see, Uncle Cuthbert,” said Clarence, eagerly, as he explained > the new position of affaire to his ancle that evening, after he had safely esoorted Lizzy home, with^her basket of nuts things considered), “it will be » pieas- ant 1 We shall all live together, and Lizzy says she will love you dearly. Lizzy is suoh a famous little housekeep¬ er. She thinks it will be so pleasant to have yon sitting by our hearthstone J And, unole, you will go and see her to¬ morrow, won’t you?” “Yes,” said Uncle Cuthbert, briefly, “I’ll go.” And the next day Lizzy was surprised at her sewing by a brown-faced, little, old man, who abruptly took both her hands in his and imprinted a kiss upon her crimson forehead, just as if he was the oldest acquaintance in the world I “So you’re going to marry my nephew, Lizzy, are you ?” said Uncle Cuthbert. “Yes, sir,” Lizzy made answer, tim idly. “And yon love him, Lizzy?” “Oh, yes, sir.” “And you won’t object to having the old man lumbering ’round the house, helpless and feeble though he be ?” “I shall be so glad to have you live with us, sir, for I never remember my father—and—you will be like one to me, I am sure.” Uncle Cuthbert kissed her again, and walked away as abruptly as he had come. “He’s a very funny old gentleman,” thought Lizzy, “but I know I shall like him.” Rosa contemplated the present state of affairs very coolly—a little contempt¬ uously, in fact. “If you choose to adopt all Clarence Hvde’s poor relations, why, I can only wonder at your taste,” she said, loftily, But Lizzy only smiled, and doubted to herself whether Rosa could really ever have loved CJlareBce. “No, no, no l” echoed her hear The day of the wedding drew near. Lizzy’s white dress was nearly finished, and modest little presents were begin¬ ning to be sent in from friends and neighbors. Unole “Here’s my present," said Cuthbert, walking in one day, and toss¬ ing a little box of carved wood into Lizzy’s lap. “I cut out those wooden flowers myself, when I was in Cali¬ fornia.” “Oh, Uncle, what a dear little box,” said Lizzy, smiling her bright thanks, while Rosa elevated her nose rather scornfully. beautifully,” “Well, open it; it’s lined said the old man. Lizzy obeyed. “Why, there’s a parchment chart in it, Uncle,” cried the astonished Clarence, who was leaning over Lizzy’s shoulder. “And so there is—a deed making over $50,000 to Lizzy Eldon the day of her marriage,” answered Uncle Cuthbert, dryly, “and I’ve just got another one for you at home, Clarence, my boy ! Aha ! the old unole was not so very poverty stricken after all. Yon musn’t think, my yonng lady,” he added, turning abruptly to Rosa, “that gold isn’t gold because it is a trifle tarnished and rnsty. Appearances aren’t anything in this world 1” And so Clarence and Lizzy began the world with the fairest of prospects, and true love enough to float the bark of life into the sweetest haven. Rosa Eldon was somewhat chagrined in her secret soul, but she wisely kept her secret to herself, and old Uncle Cuthbert was quite satisfied with the choice his nephew had made. “She’s worth twice a hundred thou¬ sand dollars in her own sweet self, Clar¬ ence,” he said, confidentially, to Mr, Hyde, junior, Paying Dearly for It. English sportsmen pay dearly foT their hunting. It has been roughly es¬ timated that every stag which falls in a deer forest in England or Scotland costs the lessee the sum of £50 ($250), and therefore a property which yields fifty of these monarchs of the glen is expect¬ ed to let for £2,500 per annum. That of itself would be a large sum to pay for the sport of a couple of months, but it is only a portion of the cost whioh is inci¬ dental to what has been called the pas¬ time of princes. The total expenditure for the season will, in all probability, in numerous instances amount to a tots sum of £5,000. Heb I’s. —A Pennsylvania girl sued a former lover for breach of promise, and produced several of his letters with postscripts containing promises of mar riage to substantiate her claim. The court, however, threw the letters out, in asmuch as it was discovered that in the postscripts, whenever the personal pro noun was necessary, a small “I” was SSn? appekre!^proi»rtv esMicsrpitol p^ueTnaS ?sharing of e not been written by the same hand, The young woman lost her case, and will probably learn to write properly be fore she tries that dodge again. NO. 32. A COWARDLY ASSAULT. One of the Salvation Arin^ Members Fatally Injured by a Blow on the Head at Albany—A Fnthetlc Scene at the Dyiny Girl’s Bedside, A dispatch from Albany, N. Y„ dated Friday, says: Miss Lucy John¬ ston, of South Brooklyn, well-known as “Singing Lucy,” of the Salvation Army, is in probably a dying condition here, having been struck senseless by an un known person while the army were parading last night. It is regarded as one of the greatest outrages ever perpe¬ trated in this city and there is great in¬ dignation among the residents over the affair. Numerous threats have been made by roughs that if the Salvation Army paraded, “they would suffer for it.” But notwithstanding this a parade was made last evening, starting at 7.30 o’clock. They proceeded from Hudson avenue up Pearl street and back, fol owed by a crowd of children and hood¬ lums. No one ventured to molest them until they had turned down Steuben street on their way to Hidley Hall to hold their meeting. Turning into James street the Salvationists discovered a large gang of young men gathered about the entrance to the hall. Several of the army had already entered and were at the top of the stairway which leads to the meeting-room, when Miss Johnston was heard calling from the door: “Cap¬ tain, some one has struck me.” Im¬ mediately there was a general confnBion auu a scattering of the roughs congre gated about The army gathered about the stricken soldier, who lay stunned upon the floor. It was soon discovered that she had been struck violently on the back of the head while entering the door. The unconscious girl was carried upstairs amid great excitement and cries of fright After reaching home the suffering girl became again unconscious. Spasm suc¬ ceeded spasm and delirium set in. At 10.30 o’clock Dr. Fisk, of Hudson av enue, was called in and pronounced it a severe case ot concussion of the brain. All night long the young woman re mained in a delirious state. Only for a few seconds, at about 1 o’clock, did Bhe become conscious. Turning to Captain Maggie Renick, she rolled her eyes un¬ easily and exclaimed, ‘ ‘You haven’t told mother, have you?” On being in¬ formed in the negative, she seemed con¬ tented and again lost consciousness. Once or twice she cried out, “Nellie, don't tell poor mother, It would kill her.” Nellie is the name of a sister whom she dearly loves and imagined was near her. Friends with tearful eyes surrounded the stripken girl all nigM. At 1.30 in the afternoon she was uncon¬ scious and her condition was still re¬ garded as very critical. In the evening she became conscious, and her physi¬ cian hopes for her ultimate recovery. Singing Lucy is twenty-one years old and joined the Salvation Army about four months ago. Her parents occupy a good social position in Brooklyn and strongly opposed her entering upon this work. She is tall and well formed, has a remarkably sweet voice and has made herself a great favorite among the friends oi the Salvationists. She has had a presentment for a week past that some¬ thing was going to happen to her. The ruffianly coward who struck the blow has not yet been discovered. It is thought that she was struck with a club or leaded “billy.” The Generous-Hearted Wife. He had failed for $500,000, and his as¬ sets would not pay two cents on the dol¬ lar. He gave up everything he had to satisfy his creditors, not even reserving the watch in his pocket. And yet they growled. An old friend called to see him. He met him at the depot with a $6,000 span of horses, and conveyed him to a $200,000 residence, where he dined and wined him like a prince, on the finest of china and the costliest of plate. “Why, Jones,” said his old friend, “I thought you had failed ?” “So I have—given up everything, ab¬ solutely everything to my creditors, as an honest man should,” replied the bankrupt, in a tone of self-abnegation. “Why, you appear to be living pretty well,” remarked the old friend. “Ah, my dear sir, how mistaken yon are,” returned the two-cents-on-the-dol lar failure. “Everything that yon see | is my wife’s, absolutely everything. j But she is too tender-hearted to deprive me of their use on account of my mis i fortune*.” ; f ; times with nowadays?” ! “How are you, ! Stored old resident of Austin, of a barber. “Inebber seed ’em so I bad, boss.” “Yon don’t boss. have Times much to do?” • ‘I reckon not, am so hard dat outer ten men, eleben don’t get sfaabed at all, and all the rest shabes ! ’emselves. ’’—Texas Siftings. THE HUMOROUS PAPERS. WHAT WE FIND IN THEM TO 89HI.B OVER THIS WEEK. The Chinese Pnzzle-Ttie Girl* Tltlered-A I.uky Number—Whnt Piisr.zled Him— Two llifl'erent Klnds-The Tramp and Woodpile. Etc. THEY LOVED. “My young man is a contractor,” sha said to a group of envious young lady friends. “A contractor ?” asked half a dozen companions. “Yes, a contractor. He has contracted the habit of tobacco using, beer-drinking and gambling, be¬ sides a long list of small debts.” “H« is almost as smart as one of my admir ers, ” chimed in another young lady; “he is an undertaker.” “An under taker ?” came the eliorus from the com pauy. “Yes, ho undertakes to make me believe that he is very handsome and smart. He undertakes to make $50 a month carry him through where $100 conld not pay out, and undertakes to imitate sensible people at times, but gives himself away .”—Lincoln Union, THE DIFFEBENC®. At first glance it seems odd that a county treasurer in Idaho Territory should skip out with $13 belonging to the county, but after a conversation with an Ohio citizen the case is more satisfactory. The $13 was all the poor ‘eHow could get hold of. It was a larger sum than had ever been in his charge before. The golden opportunity had come, and it was then or never. Ohio county treasurers are never short less than $12,000, and run from that to $75, 000, but Idaho is a young country and can’t be expected to compete. While there may be an imaginary line between the East and the West, there is no real difference in the natures of public offi¬ cials.—Wail Afreet News, TWO DIFFERENT BLINDS. Bob Nioklebv married a wealthy old maid for her money. She paints herself np and makes quite a handsome appear¬ ance at a distance, at balls and parties. On the other hand, Sam Ohnzzlewit’s wife is young and goodlooking naturally. Both were in attendance at a ball on Austin avenue, and Mrs. Niokleby was painted like a dofi. Next morning Nickleby met Ohuzzlewit and said: “Our wives looked beautiful at the ball last night” Ohuzzlewit, “and “Yes,” responded my wife looks that way jet”—Texas Siftings. Chinese pczzlk. rna Oil, bring mo a map of the seat of war ! I hear tup ‘.;vnin on the l iver Min I I want to set where the missiles tore Through far Foochow with a devil’s din. Just show me. Ke-htng and Sinen-choo; And where. Oh, where is Kin-te-ching, Choo-( :hoo, Chang-ehow, and where Oha-oo7 Is Hing-wha far from Yen-ping ? i yearn to know of Ilio-chle-ching* I long to see the high Nan-ling; However will (he French get in To Klang-si or view Toong-ting? So, bring me a map of the sent of war ? I want to learn while the fight is yonng; And while I am looking for one name more, I’ll pray for the ladies of great Qnang-tmig. nut. — Loui.miut Oi turit-j - Ji':l FOOLED ENOUGH. A couple of Englishmen once star led from Denver for the foot-hills, judging them to be four miles off. After walk¬ ing eight miles and finding themselves apparently no nearer to the range, they came to the Denver irrigation ditch, about four feet wide. One of them stopped on the bank and began to strip, his companion exclaim¬ ing: do?” “Why, what are you going to “I am going to swim the river.’’ “Why, man, it's a ditch, and only a yard or so across I” “How do I know it isn’t a quarter of a mile? We’ve been fooled enough already, and I’m not going to risk a wetting; yon can jump if you like.” A SPECIMEN OF FUN. The other day a little cherub of but a very few summers, sat at the window of her resilience ou E ist Fourth street, when a genuine dude walked wearily by. His legs were phantom like, his shoes long and pointed, his dress foppish, he wore a single eyeglass and carried a diminutive rattan cane. As lie stared about idiotically the little one said: “Mamma, did Dod make ’at man ? ’ “Yes, my darling.” The little one looked again and gig¬ gled, and with a merry twinkle in her eye, said: “Mamma, Dod likes to have fnn des as much as anybody, don’t He.”— St. Raul Herald Did Not Want a Receipt A letter from New Brunswick, N. J., in speaking of the Bank suspension save: Depositors from remote towns who had just heard the news of the fail¬ ure, wandered around in search of their money and definite information. One farmer from Little Washington may be quoted as a fair instance of the absolute tiust placed in Cashier Hill by people round about who knew him from a boy. This man and bis economical wife, by careful scraping and saving, had saved $3,000. When he came to this town last spring, he gave it to Hill to invest. While Hill was writing oat a receipt, the fanner picked up his gloves and hurried out. “Oh, pevermind that,” he said jocu Jarly; “I kin trust ye, I guess, Ha! ha!” 'fo-day the farmer wiped the tears from his eyes rfth the tail of his linen duster and told his story to a crowd of loiterers around tbe ba ° k wb ° themselves to be about as badly off as he was.