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About Conyers weekly. (Conyers, GA.) 1895-1901 | View Entire Issue (Sept. 28, 1895)
Bain-Drops on the Root Bark ! I hear a patter, Falling soft and sweet, Bike the dancing footsteps Of some fairy’s feet. 'Jis the sound of raindrops, Raindrops on the roof. Fairy little raindrops. Raindrops on the roof. oh ! they sing of blessing, From the Father’s hand, As they fall so gently On the thirsty land. Listen to the raindrops, Raindrops on the roof. Happy, smiling raindrops, Raindrops on the roof. Falling, gently falling, Whisp’ring soft and low, Of His love and goodness, Telling as they go. Hear the patt’ring raindrops,. Raindrops on the roof. Softly whisp’ring raindrops, Raindrops on the roof. —Lotty C. Mosey. the AERONAUT’S STORY, Is Jack Tunnicliffe going with you to-morrow. Tom?” said my wife to me “I wish you would take some I [ one else.” “Why, Norah?” I asked., “He's been stranger than ever in tis manner since his wife died, I hear. In fact, I’ve been told by more than one person that he’s quite insane at times. It’s not to be wondered at if 1 he is, poor fellow. I don’t know a sad der case. He’d only been married a irsek. Such a horrible death, tool It’s enough to turn a man’s brain, and Imust confess, Tom, I wish Jack was going with you. ” not “Nonsense,” Norah! People al¬ ways exaggerate and make the worst of things, as you know. If a man’s at all original or eccentric, it’s at once assumed that he’s non compos. Of course, Jack’s low-spirited audabsent | minded, and perhaps bit peculiar at times. How can he help brooding I over his terrible loss? He wants some exciting occupation to take off his thoughts from his trouble. He’s as fond of ballooning as I am, and a trip will do him all the good in the world.’, The above conversation between my I wife and myself took place on the ' evening before the day which I had fixed for a balloon ascent. Balloon¬ ing was my hobby. I had conceived a liking for it on my very first ascent. This liking had become a “craze,” for the acre! experience and strange sensa;;;n of sailing over houses and trees. Mid of soaring into the clouds had a peculiar fascination for me. Recently, I had trid to combine utility with pleasure, and had made some ascents solely for scientific pur¬ poses. I had found a kindred spirit in young Tunnicliffe, and we had had many delightful and successful trips together. Owing to the untimely death of my friend’s wife, our aerial expeditions had been suspended for a while. As several weeks had elapsed since that sad event, I felt anxious to resume this expeditions, and as Tun¬ nicliffe had expressed his willingness to accompany me, a day had been fixed for our next trip. It was when I was talking to my wife about this self-same trip that she expressed her regret that Jack Tunnicliffe was going with me. I had not much difficulty, however, in overcoming her objections and al¬ laying her fears. She was not averse to my hobby, and had even accom¬ panied me in one or two of my jour¬ neys in the air. Moreover, she sym¬ pathized with me in my desire “to make some useful discovery,” aud was therefore unwilling to damp) my ardor, or hinder the progress of my observa¬ tions. She had felt the exhilarating effect of a balloon ascent, and my ref¬ erence to the benefit young Tunni¬ cliffe would probably derive from the projected trip appealed to her ex¬ perience as well as to her tender heart. Accordingly, next day at the ap¬ pointed time, everything being in readiness, we started on our aerostatic journey. Tunnicliffe, contrary to his usual demeanor, seemed a little ex¬ cited, but this caused me no appre hensions. His interest had apparent¬ ly been awakened, and it was only natural that he should be animated °u such an occasion. The balloon was set at liberty as soon as we had taken our seats, and the machine rose beautifully, breeze, There was a gentle which bore us slightly south¬ ward. We rose slowly at first, and so ■had plenty of time to gaze on the vast and extending panorama below us. Presently we entered a huge bank or mountain of cloud of the kind called cumulus, and were surrounded by a chilling mist which induced me to put on the wraps we had brought. AY hen we emerged from the cloud a scene of fairy-like beauty suddenly burst upon us. We were in a kind of basin surrounded by mountains of cloud of the most fantastic shapes, of enormous size and of dazzling bright¬ ness. Now and then, as we rose, we caught sight also of wondrous ravines of curious shape and great depth. These mountains of clouds, with their silvery and golden sides, their dark shadows, their varied tints and sum¬ mits of dazzling whiteness, presented to our wondering gaze a scene of sur¬ passing beauty and grandeur. This sublime spectacle evoked my highest admiration, while the silence and vastness of space inspired me with awe. I drank in these exquisite and varied delights with such avidity and with such absorbing interest, that I had scarcely looked at, or spoken to my companion since we had started. But an exclamation from him now diverted my attention, and glancing at him, I was surprised to see that he had risen and was much excited. “What is it, Jack?” I asked. “Isn’t it glorious?” he replied. “I wonder if heaven is much more beautiful? How delightful it would be if we could reach it! I should see my Ada again, then. ” “My dear fellow!” I interposed, hastily, somewhat alarmed—not so much by his words as by his excited manner and wild look; “you think too much of these things. You have been brooding over your loss more than is good for you. Will you— ” “At any rate,” cried he, vehement¬ ly, “it’s worth trying, so here goes,” and seizing one of the sandbags he threw it over. The lightened balloon at once began to rise more quickly. i i What are you doing, Jack?” I shouted. “For heaven’s sake, keep calm. We are a good height already. We shan’t be able to breathe if we go much higher. It’s getting uncomfort¬ able as it is. ” “Shan’t we? W’e shall see about that. I’m going to try, anyhow. Be¬ sides, I don’t care if I can’t breathe. I want to see my Ada. That’d all I care about.” I began to fear the worst. Was he going mad? Were the reports my wife had heard literally true, and not exaggerated after all? AVhat a fool I had been not to be more cautious! Whether he was mad or not, he was in a dangerous mood, and my posi¬ tion was far from pleasant. To op¬ pose him would evidently aggravate him and make matters worse. To humor him was undoubtedly the wisest course. “Look here, Jack! I cried. “You say you want to see Ada. I cau tell you of a better and surer way of going to her than this. If you will listen me —there I involuntarily moved mv hand toward the valve-cord 1—if you will listen to me I-” None of your blarney, man? I’m not to be wheedled so. I’m to old a boy for that. Leave the cord alone, can’t you? I’m not going down again to-day. I’m going to see what’s up there, and don’t you try to stop me,” and he glared fiercely at me. The horrible nature of my situation was now only too apparent—there could no longer be any doubt of Tnn nicliffe’s condition. I was in a bal¬ loon with a mad man, and about four miles from the earth. I felt the cold sweat on my brow, and my brain be gan to rest, But with a tremendous effort I pulled myself together for my only chance of safety was iu re¬ taining my self-possession. To at tempt to overpower him was out of the question—the strength of a mad¬ man is so well known My only hope of escape was to outwit him. But how? Forced into unnatural activity as my brain was by my desperate situation, and by the necessity of prompt action, I could think of device or ruse that would do any go. I was completely at the mercy of the madman. height that We were now at such a asphyxia was imminent. I could hear my heart throb quite plainly. I breathed with difficulty, and a hor¬ rible sensation like that of sea sick ness came over me. The cold was so intense that I shivered, notwithstand- ing my wraps. The mental strain was terrible. I was almost frantic. Knowing, however, that in a few mia utes I should be unconscious, and that then all would be over with me, I nerved myself for one last effort. As I rose from my seat my eye fell on the grapnel. Fortunately it was ou my side of the car. A sudden idea struck me, here was a weapon to hand. It was an awful thought—it would be terrible deed. B:it there was now no alternative, no time for delay. My senses were going. I stretched out my hand, but the madman, who never took his eye off me, had detected my purpose. With a sudden movement he darted forward and seized the grapnel,- but in his eagerness to fore¬ stall me he had precipitated himself too far over the side of the car and al¬ most lost his balance. He made a desperate effort to recover himself, but, seized with a sudden and irresist¬ ible impulse, I pushed him over, and with a horrible yell, which rings in my ears whenever I recall the occur¬ rence, the madman disappeared from my sight. Almost mad myself—I am not sure that I was not quite so just then—I climbed into the ring to reach the valve line. But my hands were so stiff and numb with the cold that I could not grasp the cord. By a kind of inspiration which seemed provi¬ dential I seized the cord with my teeth, and after two or three tugs the valve opened with a loud clang, and the balloon began to descend. Thank heaven ! I was saved. My hands be¬ ing useless, I was obliged to throw up my arms and drop into the car, where I lay motionless and unconscious for a while. My swoon could not have lasted more than a few seconds, for when I recov¬ ered the barometer showed that I was still in a high altitude, although the balloon was descending rapidly. I rubbed aud beat my hands until the circulation was restored. Then I set about taking the necessary precautions against a too rapid descent, But I acted more like an automaton than a conscious agent, for I seemed in a kind of stupor or trance all the time. How and where I reached the solid earth I cannot say. I have only a dim, hazy recollection of being sur¬ rounded by a crowd of people. Some were bending over me and seemed to be questioning me, but I couldn’t make out what they said. I felt an awful pain in my head, and remember nothing more until I found myself in bed in a dark room and my wife bend¬ ing over me. This was several days afterward, and I learned then that I had been brought home in a delirious state and had had brain fever. When I recovered my friends con¬ gratulated me, and tried to persuade me that as my homicidal act was done in self-defence it was justifiable. I hope it was, but I can never recall it without misgiving and horror, and I have never made a balloon ascent since. —Tit-Bits. “Jim” Fisk’s Fortune. A current paragraph says that at the time of his death Jim Fisk was sup¬ posed to be worth $2,000,000, and that it is hard to believe that the only means of support Fisk’s widow now has is a small income from property in Ver¬ mont which came to her from her own family. The writer of the paragraph is seemingly ignorant of the popular legend that Jay Gould quietly and re¬ morselessly gobbled up every penny of Fisk’s belongings as soon as Fisk breathed his last. The two friends had offices adjoining each other, and between Mem used one safe. After Fisk’s death an examination demon¬ strated that there was actually noth¬ ing in the safe but air and dust, and Gould subsequently testified upon the witness stand that the firm of Fisk & Gould had no assets. Nobody knows where Jim Fisk’s two millions went, but everybody can give a pretty close guess.—Chicago Record. Two Boys Kill a Lion. Two boys of a dozen summers, Gee. Ward and Oscar Gale by name, suc¬ ceeded in killing a California bon near Amador one day last week. The boys shot the animal with buckshot, and after an exciting chase of half a mile, with the aid of a dog, they succeeded in killing it. The lion measured eight feet from tip to tip.—San Francisco Chronicle. Enjoys Torturing Pirates. In Wenchow, China, the mandarie has recently taken the torture punish¬ ment of pirates into his own hands. He actually had all the inquisitorial apparatus removed from the magis¬ trate’s court to his own official ya men and there set up. Each day two prisoners charged with piracy are brought before him, and he amuses himself by torturing them in all the most approved ways, The poor wretches are taken from the hideous jail, where vermin crawl over the walls, and the stench is unendurable. They are so loaded with chains that they have to be helped along by an official on each side. Arrived at the yamen they are made to kneel, without trousers, on a great heap of chains. Then a bar of wood is passed behind the knees, the back is fixed against an upright post by pulling the victim’s queue through a hole in it, the arms are stretched out and fastened to a crosspiece,and the thumbs are secure¬ ly tied with cords. Then a crank is turned and the machine strains all the cords so that the poor wretch’s joints are nearly pulled out of their sockets, and the agony is so great that the strongest man loses consciousness. When the sufferer has fainted,servants rush forward, and while several throw water in his face, others beat him with timber switches. When he is revived he is taken out of the ma¬ chine and removed again to prison. The process is carried on every day until the prisoner confesses or gives up* the ghost. It is said that the Wenchow man¬ darin enjoys this torturing with the keen zest of a voluptuary, and that he has devised several new and ingenious variations in the process, which are warranted to produce actuate agony without seriously impairing the strength of the victim.—Detroit Free Press. The Female Criminal Excels the Male. Dr. Lombroso, the Italian special¬ ist in criminology, has written a book on “The Female Offender,” in which he says; “The female born criminal is far more terrible than the male. She combines the worst qualities of both sexes—the woman’s excessive de¬ sire for revenge, cunning cruelty, love of dress and uutruthfulness ; the man’s vices, fickleness, fearlessness, audac¬ ity and often muscular strength. Celto wrote in the fifteenth century: ‘No possible punishment can deter women from heaping up crime upon crime. Their perversity of mind is more fer¬ tile in new crimes than the imagina¬ tion of a judge iu new punishments.’ Eykise said: ‘Feminine criminality is more cynical, more depraved and more terrible than the criminality of the male.’ ‘Rarely,’ says the Italian proverb, ‘is a woman wicked, but when she is she surpasses the man. ’ Then comes Euripides with this crusher: ‘The violence of the ocean waves or of devouring flames is ter¬ rible. Terrible is poverty, but womau is terrible than all else. > >> more What a Strike Costs. The report of the Illinois Bureau of Labor Statistics contains some very interesting information in regard to the great strike in that state last year. There were 2,520 miners engaged in the strike, working 276 mines and operated by 209 owners, The coal reports establish the average daily wages of all men in machine mines, also at all other mines where men are paid by the day at about $2 per man per day. Hence it will be assumed in this estimate that $2 per day is a fair average daily wage per man. It is found that 25,207 men suspending work and losing an average of 33.6 days each sustained the loss of a total of 846,955 days, aggregating the sum of §1,693,910 as the total loss in wages. This gives a loss of $67.20 to each man.—Atlanta Constitution. No Flies High Up in the Sky-Scrapers. “If you will take notice,” said a tenant of the Chamber of Commerce, “you will see that there are no flies on ns, or in our office. Haven’t seen one since we moved in. I was com¬ menting on the fact the other day, when an old inhabitant told me that lies will not stay at an elevation of aver thirty feet above the ground. Since then I have kept watch, and have come to the conclusion that he knew what he was talking about.”— Detroit Journal. The Sweet Watermelon. I ■“How dear to my heart are the days of my childhood”— How memory loves on their beauty to dwell! The journey from school through the field and the wildwood To the sweet watermelon that cooled in the well! The sweet watermelon— The striped watermelon— The big Georgia melon that cooled in the well! In fancy I still hear the dinner bell ringing, (’Twas ever a welcome and musical bell!) Aud the men from the lieids on the mules would go singing To the sweet watermelon that cooled in the well! The sweot watermelon— The fat watermelon— The big Georgia melon that cooled in the well! Now age has taught mortals to store it and ice it. And sometimes, beholding, I seem to rebel, When I think of the tree where we’d take it and slice— The sweet watermelon that cooled in the well! The sweet watermelon— The fat watermelon— The big Georgia melon that cooled in the well! —Atlanta Constitution. HUMOROUS. It is the wife of a bridge-builder who should be named Bridget. Why does the new moon remind one of a giddy girl? Because she is too young to show much reflection. The man who stole a glance has not yet been arrested, although his atten¬ tion was arrested when he stole the glunce. Judge—Were you ever up before this court? Everett Wrest—Can’t say, judge. What time do your honor git up? His teeth are loose and his nose is a sight, And his head!—they’ve in bandages bound It; He went out to look for trouble last night, And he found it. Belle—Mr. Jolyer is such a nice man. He said I had a voice like a bird. Neil—Yes, he told me you sang like an owl. “Go to the ant, thou sluggard,” don’t seem to be heeded in any way by the sluggard, who generally goes to his uncle. There is no reason why an elderly woman shouldn’t be well preserved. The young ones have so much sugar in their composition, you know. Experience in the world’s ways shows That, as a general rule, The politician who has the push, Is the one who has the pull. Jo says that the best lip salve iu creation is a kiss. The remedy should be used with great care, as it may bring on an affection of the heart. Clara—“He has proposed three or four times, and I don’t know whether to accept him or not.” Maud—“I would. Suppose he should stop?” “Oh, give me anything made of beans!” exclaimed the Boston man taken sick in the West, when asked what he would have to eat. They gave him castor oil. It’s the summer fly that bustles, Till within the spider’s gates. And the spider never hustles, But he gets there while he waits. Old lady (to motorman on trolley car)—Ain’t you afraid of the elec¬ tricity, Mr. Motorman? Motorman— No, ma’am, 1 ain’t got no call to bo afraid. I ain’t a conductor. Blobbs—“How is it you are never troubled with tramps? You don’t keep a dog, do you?” Slobbs—“No ; but my wife bakes her own cake, and they have tumbled to it.” She—“Do you know, Harry, father has forbidden you the house?” He— “Forbidden me the house! I never asked him for his house. His daugh¬ ter is good enough for me.” He lifted his hat with a Chesterfield’s grace, While his cheeks with blushes were deeply dyed; A girl to the right looked fighting mad, A girl to the left looked pleased and glad— The fellow, you see, was cross-eyed! Figg—Wonder why it is that these professional pugilists are such con¬ founded talkers? Fogg—Perhaps it is because of a determination on their part never io be struck speechless. She, poatingly—Before we were married you used to bring me candy every time you came. He, briskly— Yes, my dear, and it cost a good deal less than the meat and potatoes I bring you now.
