The Conyers weekly. (Conyers, Ga.) 18??-1888, October 31, 1884, Image 1

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The Conyers weekly., October 31, 1884, Image 1

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Newspaper Page TextWRITE PAYE it UOIXG UP !m Decreases Mie Already Ch S r Mat r,a ‘ TS « ' „ w the cholera embargo on „ market?” the gSected the paper Journal was paper Trade market is very strong Prices -J-rsince l nW but have advanced steadily m the embargo was S The lowest by price newspapers touched in was paper 51 such as is used contract cents a pound, at which rate a 100,000 reams was made by a Ro.3e {or two weeks ago. Now street ihe publisher pound higher al price is 1 cent a hou?h not an ounce of rags will be S in making writing the paper. held The a manu¬ meet facturers of paper and , : n Springfield, Mass., not long ago, advanced prices 1 and 2 cents a pound, according to the grade, or about 10 per cent. The writing paper is directly af fected by the embargo on rags, As a result the manufacturers of blank-books aud envelopes have ail notified their customers that list prices are subject to change without notice. Job printers have to make prices from day to day on the basis of the day’s quotations.” “Will this continue ? ’ “Yes. Prices must advance, because £here is a real scarcity of raw material. The rise in the price of rag paper will divert the chemically prepared wood pulp to writing paper, and so even the cheapest grades must advance, A fur¬ ther advance of from ten to twenty per cent, would not surprise me much.” One of the officers of the American Paper Makers’ Association said: “There will be a further decided advance. Stocks of paper in the hands of dealers are low, because no one carries much when the market is sluggish. The amount of raw material on hand is not large enough to supply the demand up to Dec. 1. The imported rags ordinarily supplied one-third of the demand, but as rags are not collected in winter as freely as in summer, the foreign rags supplied from forty to fifty per cent, at that season. Even now some mills have reduced the number of hours of work to the week, so as to piece out the stock on hand. The use of substitutes cannot keep the price of paper from rising. ” “How will this condition of affairs af¬ fect the financial standing of the trade ?” “Paper makers and dealers have stood ike vicissitudes of trade as well as any other class of business men. Those who have low-price contracts ahead have probably low-priced contracts for stock, and the paper on hand is not in sufficient quantity to make any great wealth for the dealers,” A French Consul. A curious story is told by an old tchoolfellow of M. Lemaire, late French Consul General at Shanghai and recent¬ ly appointed Minister Plenipotentiary at Hue. Twenty-five years ago he was at school at Tonnerre. There, with un¬ consciousness of his destiny, he was nicknamed Jaunot, on account of bin singularly yellow complexion. He was 14 quiet lad, not brilliant, often bullied by his companions and somewhat hardly treated by his professors. When fifteen lie passed a vacation with an uncle in burgundy and had for companion a cousin much younger than himself. Their delight was to play at soldiers. Lemaire shouldered a rusty flint gun aud the cousin flourished an old sabre. One day it was agreed that they should get up some wine from the cellar, not with any pilfering intention, but merely to play at soldiers plundering. As the cousin was mounting the cellar stairs Lemaire exclaimed, “Here is the ene¬ my! and pulled the trigger. The gun, which he did not know to be loaded, went off and blew out the brains of the young cousin. Lemaire’s family, horri hed at the event, sent him to sea as a ca in boy. Nothing was heard of him yGars> aQd sent no letters home. At u last it was found out that he had toblished ee himself at Saigon, had learned Ltanese and was employed as interpreter at the French Consulate. Later that news came he had married a Cochin Chi oese lady, whether a native or settler is aot stated, and now the result of that unfortunate shot with the flint gnn is mat he is recognized the most as aceom- 18 e diplomatist that France find can eon uct her affairs among the yellow P je < Such is the history of Jaunot. An Ice Carnival. I'nr'h holding Preparations brilliant are under way a ice carnival this v’ v Wln if r at Greenwood Lake, New f 18 the line of a railroad and from New York J ment y ; Company * ile Greenwood has the Lake Improve¬ D matter under iro • is intended to make the val complete car in every detail, and more ^tractive than that in Canada last win .i* ,° f Principal attractions rill h l th ,° iarge ice patuoe, lf . er r! which will reek ° U 4116 lake and be need for a Da ^ ng ^ time 811 8 °rte of ther er attractions a if will be offered. Trir ! iT raoin Among e S on the ice, sates, kating GS ’ baS6ba11 matches on s matches, toboggan running oon - . matches, otil 8 ^ ideboat races 3 ° tber winter a Ports. The '* , 0nJy te- f and 0pen “ the o fOT be- 8 got ready “re for the vast crowd ex tool. A PfiiNTEa’s toast: “The Press ‘Presses !” It knowledge truth, represses errors, im =-= and op-presses none. The Conyers Weekly. VOL. VII. THE OLD WIFE. BT THEBOS BROWN. By the bed the old man, waiting, fat in vigii sad and tender, Where his aged wife lay dying ; and the twi¬ light shadows brown Slowly from the wall and window chased the sunset’s g Id: n splendor Going down. “Is it night?” she whispered, waking (for her spirit seemed to hover Lost betw-een the next world's Bunrise and the bedtime cares of this), And the old man, weak and tearful, trembling as he bent above her, Answered “Yes.” “Are the children in ?” she asked him. Could he toll her ? All the treasures Of their household lay in Biience many years beneath the snow ; But the heart was with them living, back among her toils and pleasures Long ago ; And again she called at dew-fall, in the sweet old summer weather “Where is little Charley, father ? Frank and Robert—have they come ?” “They are safe,” the old man faltered—“all the children are together, Safe at home.” Then he murmured gentle southings, but his grief grew strong and stronger, Till it choked and rtilled him as he held and kissed her wrinkled hand, For her soul, far out of hearing, could his fondest words no longer Understand. Still the pale lips Btammered questions, lull¬ abies and broken verses, Nursery prattle—all the language of a mother’* loving deeds, While the midnight round the mourner, left to sorrow’s bitter mercies, Wrapped its weeds. There was stillness on the pillow - and the old man listened lonely— Till they led him from the chamber, with the burden on his breast, For the life of seventy years, his manhood’s early love and only, Lay at rest “Fare you well,” he sobbed, “my Sarah—you will meet the babes before mo ; ‘Tis a little while, for neither can the parting long abide, And you’d come and call me soon, I know— and Heaven will restore me To your side.” It was even so : The spring-time, m the step of winter treading, Scarcely shed its orchard-blossoms ere the old man closed his eyes, And they buried him by Sarah—and they had their “diamond wedding” In the skies. Tom’s Wife. BY K. TEMPLE MOORE. “A oity girl! No wife for a struggling young man,” sighed rich, eccentric Aunt Sarah, sorrowfully. “Brought up with the expectation of becoming an heiress, too. Her extrava¬ gant habits will ruin the boy I” said Mrs. Pry, severely. “And a beauty !” sneered Mrs. Crank ett, with withering contempt. So the gossips down in Tom Lysan der’s native village put their heads to¬ gether and nodded grimly and forebod¬ ingly when they heard he had married Lila Ware. The daughter of his employer, he had loved her long and almost hopelessly. One day through the city spread the news like wildfire that Ware & Co. had failed. He went straightway to the house where he had ever been a wel come guest. Ho found the laughing girl whom he had known graver, and perhaps a little haughtier than of old ; a woman whom the first breath of misfor tune had not blasted to despondency or lTr « ^ while he told the story which had lam so long m his heart unsaid. And when he had spoken she gave him frankly the love which till tb«i woman y pn e vei e 6 r 0 ”\ 1 ) hough bright , and , held ,, none of cozy the luxury of that which shehad nown, u s e m p ,, we i as m wor e world to lorn Lysanaer. One evening Lila Lysander came up to where her-ius an sa wean y in - 1U Through the open windows came the breeze, laden with promises of the sum _ . . . i • • k?tv'on the'^citv'etreets 0 - vio "Timi .hafuit?" He started at the sound of the tender voice, and put his arm around her as she stood beside him bad' “Can you bear news, pet?” “I can share it, Tom.” He laughed at the brave, womanly answer. “The gqp of bad luck was double barreled to-day, dear. Our salaries were reduced one-third on account of a partial failure of the firm, and—I had a e A i ? Dt . ifT^ a , h ,,, ' Oh, Tom! what does she h say? ?” 'That she is making arrangements vith her lawyer to discontinue the al- CONYERS, ROCKDALE CO., GA. FRIDAY, OCTOBER 31,1884. “And all this on my aocount ?” wist¬ fully. “Ah, that’s where the joy comes in, my darling ! I have you—the rest is nothing 1” ¥om “Is she hot cruel, ?” “Par from it. She is peculiar, whim¬ sical, easily prejudiced. She used to love me dearly. And if her blessed old eyes caught but one glimpse of my bon nie bride—come for a walk, dear.” ******* “Work ! for you, Mrs. Lysander? You surely don’t mean it 1 Why, my dear child, you don’t know the meaning of the word. ” Lila Lysander, standing before her father’s o'd lawyer, a slim, childish figure, lookel up at him with resolute eyes. “But I do mean it, Mr. Mitchell Some position which will permit me to be at home.in the working evening before Tom returns. He is nigbts now to make up for the decrease in his salary. It is terrible to think he should toil so hard while I am comparatively idle. You will help me, Mr. Mitchell, you must 1” “Come to think of it, I know a place that would suit you. She’s a client of my office mate, Hilhouse, boarding at the Revere. Rich, bless you, rich 1 She wants a young girl to stay with her part of the day, while she’s in the city—com¬ panion, guide, that sort of thing, yon know. No one would ever take you to be married, Miss Lila. There I I’m dropping into the name myself, Craig —your second name—Lillian Craig. Capital 1 A harmless deception. Sit right down here while I go and see Hil¬ house. Dear! dear!” He bustled eagerly off, and bustled smilingly back; “Hilhouse says-it’s all right. Hois privileged to engage you. A companion —a few hours a day—ten dollars a week to the right person. That wasn’t much to you ouce, Miss Lila. Not much, was it?” * * * * There were two ten dollar bills on the top pantry shelf. But Tom didn’t kcow. “I’ll wait till it grows a little,” Mrs. Lila said gleefully to herself, “and then I’ll give him a surprise party.” One day, in her luxurions room at the Revere, Mrs. Percival lay ill with a fev¬ erish headache. Her companion went softly about the room, dropping the curtains and stopping the clocks, ios4 the ticking of these latter should distnrb the invalid. When she came back to the couch she found two dim old eyes fast¬ ened on her in kindly scrutiny. “Miss Craig, how long have yon been with me ?” “Two weeks.” “Do yon know I’ve grown very fond of you in those two weeks, little eirl?” A thin hand wfto laid caressingly on Lila’s. “What a heavy gold ring you wear like a wedding ring ! I wish it was. I wish-” She grew dreamily silent The afternoon slipped away, Thb shadows gathered, The room was darkened, the clock stopped, and Lila did not perceive how late it was grow ing. ‘ Dees ^ your head n ache now ? “ No - b,ltm Y he f rt dce f> Ldhai \ Slie suddenly and ^ .. sat trec noh ™P S ™ lAe from her stately ° Id andyon ~ a “ f ch are P° 05 \ ftre ;)0t l on f , y> ou ave ® r e P 1 , . 2“ ttj d“gter—'"‘° *°° llQh no , -p or give me 1 I can JJj whato-what sound is that? A Hark I” “That ?” surprisedJy. “That is only the angelus from the French Catholic « The ftngelu3 1” She sprang to her feet in alarm. “Then it is six o’clock, I have outstayed my time. I must go.” ^ g anc } hurriedly found my Cinderella, what a panic 1 Leave me your glass slipper. Come in.” ^ d«* ™ 8 fluDg wlde °I ,en and a man rosliod into tli6 room. „ My darling> how you have fright ened me !” he said, crossing to where Lila stood. “I got home early to night, and forced Ellen to tell me where you-Aunt 8arah Be wheeled around and clasped the old lady in his arms in an impetuous, boyish fashion “Well this is a surprise 1 How did yon and Li la “Yon know Miss Craig ? “Miss Craig! ’-mystified*. Lila came forwar qmc y. “T did not know that she was yemr aunt a ^ nt Toro ^ I ^ have never heard you ’ 8 P eak f 1 * Per cival by 3 any 3 other name save Aunt « Sarah. iowance I have had ever since I was a boy; also, to t radicate my name from he: will. There 1” “Miss Craig, you oannot be- “I am Tom’s wife !” simply. “You Tom’s wife?” “I am,” with quiet pride. “But he married a horrid city girl, who was extravagant and knew nothing about work—and--.” Lila laughed at the vague hearsays. “I am that horrid city girl. I was extravagant when the extravagance meant liberality. And love has taught me the sweetness of work.” A sudden recollection of his aunt’s in j ustico to his wife came to Tom Lysan der. “Oome, dear, we must be going. Aunt, pardon this intrusion. Good night!” But Mrs. Percival sprang up. “No I” she cried, impulsively; “yon will shake hands and forgive an old womau, my children! Bless my soul, Tom’s wife?” Aud she bent and kissed her. DOMESTIC RECIPES. Elderberry Pie. —For a large pie use half a pound of green grapes and a pound and a half of ripe elderberries free from stems; squeeze the grapes from the skins, putting the skin aside, place the pulp in a preserving-kettle with elderberries, and boil them until the pulp can be pressed through a sieve to remove the seeds; then return the pnlp to the preserving-kettle, with the grape-skins and sugars enough to sweeten the preserve; boil it fifteen min¬ utes, stirring it often enough to prevent burning, and then use it for pies. While the elderberry and grape preserve is being cooked make ft pastry. The addition of the grapes to the elderberries improves the flavor of the preserve. Elderberry and Grape Jelly.— Use one-third of ripe grapeB and two-thirds of ripe elderberries free from stems; put them over the fire in a preserving-ket¬ tle, and cook them slowly until the juice flows freely; then pour them into a jelly bag, and let them drain nntil all the juice is extracted. To each pint of the juice add a pint of granulated sugar; put them into the preserving-kettle, set it on the fire, and stir until the sugar is dissolved; continue the boiling until a ’ittl® of the jelly cooled on a saucer stiffens; then partly cool it, pour it into jelly-glasses, and when the jelly is quite cold cover the glasses with white paper fastened with white of egg or mucilage. Apple Jelly. —Use tart, juicy apples which are ripe and sound; if the jelly is desired of a light color peel them; other¬ wise out them in quarters; do not core them unless they are wormy; if the apples are not well flavored add the yel¬ low rind of a lemon to each pound of ap¬ ples, and reserve the juice of the lemon to ilse later; put the apples into the preserv¬ ing kettle with just enough water to pre¬ vent burning, and slowly cook them to a pnlp; then pour them into a jelly-bag and let them drain thoroughly; after all the juice is extracted the pulp may be sweetened and tised as apple-sauce. Strain the lemon juice and add it to the apple juice; to each pint of juice allow a pound of white sugar; put the fruit juice and sugar over the fire in the pre¬ serving kettle, and boil it until a little cooled on a saucer jellies; while the jelly is bailing skim it clean. Let the jelly cool a little when it is stiff enough, and then pour it into glasses; when the jelly is cold cover the glasses with white paper, fastened with white of egg or mucilage Railway Construct ion. The meet noticeable feature iu the re turns of railway construction during the first nine months of the current year is the great falling ,.ff in the mileage as compared with what was done in pre vious years. Thus far only 2,553 miles have been built, as against 4.244 miles in 1883 and 8,075 miles in 1882. But this decrease is rather to be welcomed as a healthy sign, because it shows that there is little “wildcat” railroading. The enormous waste of capital involved in lines built long before they can be profitable, and in unnecessary parallel mg of ? x ‘ 8t 1Dg ^tes is a most at an end. and it is . safe to say that nearly every mile constructed this year was needed. The new mileage is especially marked in the Southern and far West em States, where the means of trans portation have been inadequate. Steel rails at twenty-seven dollars per ton, and money a glut on ^e market, are calculated to m^te mfroad eon struction itten so ; but many the lm PJ"? mama to railroading,as marked the period 1881-83 can be expected. Canned.—O n wing ; to . the .. iiuwBosed increased de ue mand to canned salmon the sardine packing Le-third business of Maine has fallen off < this season. NO. 34. THE COST OF A CRIMINAL. A NEW AND PECULIAR VIEW OF THE PEST OF SOCIETY. What a SIPfle Thlrf Inflicts Upon Society— An Appalling Waste. [From the New York HotfrJ The actual loss in dollars and cents whioh a single criminal inflicts upon so¬ ciety is sometimes appalling. We groan at the iniquity of politicians, and rejoice when one of them who has stolen a few thousand dollars is driven to jail or out of the country; but such a fellow iff, as a rule, less dangerous than some common criminal who is sentenced for a term of years for a small burglarly or for steal¬ ing a horse. For the criminal classes waste far more than they consume; it is beyond doubt that a thief—and most criminals Jive by theft—a thief, who does nothing whatever for society but prey upon it, always takes far more than he would need were his operations honest. Money is worth its face value, no matter in what hands it happens to be; but the pickpocket whose specialty is watches, knows that to earn twenty dollars by his delicate handiwork lie must Bteal at least a hundred dollars’ worth of timepieces. The “junk” thief will tear out of a house, in course of erection, all the lead pipe of the plumb¬ ing system, which in material and labor has cost several hundred dollars, and sell it by the pound as old lead, being well satisfied if he can get ten dollars for his night’s work. The financial results of some great burglaries of dry goods and jewelers’ shopB, silk houses and private residences have been shown, at the trial of the thieves, to be only one-tenth, one twentieth, and even smaller fractions of the value of the goods taken. Even in great bond robbery cases the thieves have obtained but a very small propor¬ tion of the actual value of the securities stolen. Theft, like many other indus¬ tries, is not complete in itself; the booty must be sold, frequently it must go through several hands, to each of whioh sticks part of the price, and no one of them is the hand of a person who is earning an honest living. This would be bad enough, even were every thief persistent in trying to keep down expenses in his personal and do¬ mestic management. Unfortunately, however, among the virtues which some criminals profess and practice, economy will be sought in vain. No reckless heir of a million was ever more free-handed than the thief is while his money lasts. He wears fine clothes of faultless cut, he smokes the best cigars; and in the dingy back-rooms of grogshops, in the streets most frequented by thieves, there is more champagne opened than in some famous places on Broadway, Burglars always drive good horses, and their feminine companions are arrayed like Solomon in all his glory. Such luxuries cost a great deal of money. So the thief who does not want to change his habits is obliged to be industrious in business, and lose no good chance through carelessness. If he spends five thousand dollars per year, he must steal fifty thousand, in which case he costs society as much as a hundred honest day-laborers, and gives society nothing in return but an undeniable sense of ap¬ prehension. “Like breeds like,” and criminals’ families may always be depended upon to live by crime. Perhaps not all thieves and bad characters in general can repeat the appalling record of the Dukes family, which gave the country several hundred criminals; but they do their utmost, in that direction, multiply¬ ing rapidly and negleoting to train their offspring to live properly. It will thus be seen to reform even a single criminal is to spare society a seri ous and steady infliction. A common thief, who lives by his craft, steals more in his lifetime than any great rogue, who is not a bank president, ever gets by a single “haul.” It is hard for a sentimentalist, or even a missionary, to regard such a fellow with tenderness and brotherly love, but any one can af¬ ford to wish the rascal’s business meth¬ ods were different. To persuade and as¬ sist discharged criminals to lead honest and self-supporting lives is one of the tasks to which the National Prison As¬ sociation has addressed itself, The work should commend itself to any man’s common tense and pocket. intelIig ent boy at school f # ^ ^ m , gravefl) which at least had in it toe latent element of truth. “Why,” asked the teacher, “do they decorate ^T of and not yours and mine The child vhocght for a mo . ment mem or two, > and then said: “Please, > ma’am, I think lts beeanae they are dead and we ain’t The proposition was unanswerable, THE HUMOROUS PAPERS. WHAT WE FIND IN THEM TO MAKE US SMILE. A Great Oversight- AVI' at a Mirror Tell* —I.nj'injr It to the Baby—A Dry Season— A City Appetite— Another Moral, Etc.* Etc. THE CAUSE OE IT. Doctor: “Tell me exactly what your condition is. Do you have any night sweats ?” Patient: “Yes, almost every night.” “Doctor: “My dear sir! this begins to look serious. About bow long do they last ?” Patient: “About as long as I have to tote the baby up and down.”— Burling¬ ton Free Preaa. ANOTHER MOB All. Mr. Blank— “What! more money to buy ribbon ? I never saw such extrav¬ agance. What did you do with the change I gave you last week ?” Mrs. Blank—“Put it in my pocket book.” “And where is the pocketbook ?” “Lost it.” “Lost it; worse and worse. When did did you lose it ?” “The day I went shopping. I laid it down in the first store I visited, before I had taken a cent from it, and it imme¬ diately disappeared.” “Was there ever such carelessness? How did it get out of yonr possession so quickly ?” ‘It blew away.”— Phila. Calk NOT A RELIABLE POLICY. “Don’t you think,” she inquired ol the clerk, “that these shoes are rathe* large f" “Ob, no, miss,” he returned, “not foot you.” and After she flounced out ol the store the proprietor had finished talking to him, it would have been impossible to convince him that houcsty is the bos* policy. — Graphic. SHE KNEW ABOUT IT.' “I tell you what," airily exclaimed Perkins, as he eat down to the supper table, “I was in a tight place this after¬ noon. ” “Yes, I know you were,” inter rupted his wife, in clear cold utterances that cut liko a knife; “I saw you coming out of it.” And then it flashed across Perkins’s mind that he had accidentally stepped into a saloon with a friend for the purpose of examining a doubtful political statement with the aid of a magnifying glass, and his contemplated anecdote slipped from his grasp like money at a summer resort, while tho supper was finished amid a silence so profound that he could plainly hear e napkin ring .—Rockland Courier. frobably correct. There was a goodly number of ladiee at Twenty-third street and Sixth ave nue waithig for an elevated railway train when a specimen of the New York young “gent” of the day came pushing through the crowd, rudely jostling aB elderly lady. “Here, sir, keep off,” said an old gen¬ tleman at her side, shoving him back, "or I’ll teach yon a little politeness.” “You will, eh?” came from Young America, throwing a withering glanoe at the elderly party. ‘‘I’d have you under¬ stand, sir, that there’s not a man in this town can teach me politeness.’ Then he wondered why the girls all tittered, — Herald. STARTED WITH A LUCKY NUMBER. “I hear Gail Fisher, who left here a few months ago, is married and living in Indianapolis. Did he marry well ?” “Oh, yes; he married well. He was well when he married.” “No joking. I mean did he get a good start by marrying ?” “Oh, yes; he got a good start—he married a widow with seven children.” A GREAT OVERSIGHT. Prominent Citizen—“There is one question I would like to ask you, Mrs. Lockwood, before pledging you my vote. It involves a matter of some deli¬ cacy.” Mrs. Lockwood—“Speak freely, sir In matters of grave national importance all minor considerations Bhould be put aside.” Prominent Citizen—“Are you sure that you are old enough to be legally qualified for the office of President of the United States ?” Mrs. Lockwood—“My goodness me i I never thought of that. Certainly I am not.” His Character in Dispate. “Do yon know this man to be of good moral character, and well disposed to the order of the community?” asked Judge Truax of James Murphy, a wit¬ ness for Patrick Maguire, who wanted to become a citizen of the United States. “I told yon, Paddy, that that thing would come out,” said James, turning to Patrick and disregarding the Judge. “Do yon know this man to be of good moral character ?” repeated toe Judge. “I told yon. Paddy, that I would be asked that,” James remarked, reproach¬ fully. witness,” thun¬ “Yon are not a good dered the Judge. “Step aside.” Barnes moved sadly out of the court room, saying: “Sure I cudn’tswear that Paddy was a man of good moral eha-rae ter, fwhin I know his woife, and I see another woman bringing his dinner to him at the dook.”— N. Y. Time*.