Newspaper Page Text
of KEnHESAW V
'^ l (C)i-AUL6Y. H-TM
Vol. V.
The Brookside.
BY LORD HOUGHTON.
I wandered by the brookside,
1 wandered by the mill;
I could not hear the brook How, —
The noisy wheel was still.
There was no burr of grashopper,
No chirp of any bird,
But the beating of my own heart
Was all the sound I heard.
I sat beneath the elm-tree:
1 watched the long, long shade,
And, as it grew still longer,
I did not feel afraid;
For 1 listened for a footfall,
1 listened for a word, —
But the beating of my own heart
Was all the sound I heard.
He came not, —no, he came not, —
The night came on alone, —
The little stars sat one by one,
Each on his golden throne;
The evening air passed by my cheek,
The leaves above were stirred,
But the beating of my own heart
Was all the sound I heard.
Fast, silent tears were flowing,
When something stood behind:
A hand was on my shoulder, —
I knew its touch was kind:
It drew me nearer —nearer —
We did not speak one word,
For the beating of our own hearts
Was all the sound we heard.
The Colored Brother Got the
Dose.
A veterinary surgeon had occasion
to instruct a colored stableman how to
administer medicine to adoling horse.
He was to get a common tin tube —a
bean-blower —put a dose of the medicine
into it, insert one end of the tube into
the horse’s mouth, and blow vigorously
into the other end, and so force the
medicine down the horse’s throat.
Half an hour afterward the colored msfl
appeared at the surgeon’s office, looking
very much out of sorts. “ What is the
matter?” inquired the doctor, with some
concern. “Why, boss, dathoss, he —
he biowed fust! ’ — Youth’s Companion.
The Western & Atlantic Railroad
is the only line by which passengers
coming from the west or north-west
make connection in the Union Passen
ger Depot, Atlanta. It is also an im
portant matter for those coming to
Atlanta to bear in mind that all the
street car lines in the city start from
within one square of the Union Pas
senger Depot, and passengers reaching
Atlanta from the west by any other
line are landed more than four squares
from the line of the nearest street car.
The carrot is the root crop preferred
by horses. The mode of feeding car
rots to horses is to chop them fine and
give each horse hqlf a peck tidies
a week.
A iiunaorou-s dare-devil—the very no an to suit nay purpose.
OUR “GEORGIA WATERMELON” NUMBER.
The World’s First Wedding.
What a morning that was of the
world’s first wedding! Sky without a
cloud. Atmosphere without a chill.
Foliage without a crumpled leaf.
Meadows without a thorn. It shall
be in church —the great temple of
a world, sky-domed, mountain-pil
lared, sapphire-roofed. The sparkling
waters of the Gihon and Hiddekel will
make the fount of the temple. Larks,
robins and goldfinches will chant the
wedding march. Violet, lily and rose
burning incense in the morning sun.
Luxuriant vines sweeping their long
trails through the forest aisle —uphols-
tery of a spring morning. Wild beasts
standing outside the circle looking on,
like family servants from the back
door gazing upon the nuptials; the ea
gle, king of birds; the locust, king of
insects; the lion, king of beasts, wait-
Carpet of grass like emerald for
►the human pair to walk on. Hum of
excitement, as there always is before a
cerenfbny. Grass blades and leaves
whispering, and the birds a-chatter,
each one to his mate. Hush, all the
clouds. Hush, all the birds. Hush,
the waters, for tW king of the human
race advances, and his bride. Perfect
man, leading to the altar a perfect wo
man. God, her father gives away the
bride, and angels are the witnesses, and
tears of morning dew stand in the blue
eyes of the violets. And Adam takes
the round hand, that has never been
worn with work or stung with pain, in
to his own stout grasp and says: “This
is now bone of my bone and flesh
of my flesh.” Tumults of joy break
forth and all the trees of the wood clap
their hands, and all the galleries of the
forest sound with carol and chirp and
chant, and the circle of Edenic hap
piness is complete; for while every
quail hath answering quajl, and every
ATLANTA, CA., JUNE 15, 1890.
VdK u 8?
He took the wrong route. No trip-ups.on the W. &A,
fish answering fish, and every fowl
answering fowl, and every beast of the
forest a fit companion, at last man, the
immortal, has for mate, woman, the
immortal.
MARRIED —Wednesday, the Ist
day of June, in the year 1, ADAM,
the first man, to EVE, the first woman,
High Heaven officiating. — Talmage.
How many have used the expres
sion, “the tune the (Id cow died on,”
without any definite idea of its mean
ing or origin ? It seems to have come
to us from over the sea. It arose out
of an old song:
There was an old man and he had an old cow,
*And he had nothing to give her;
So he took out his fiddle and played her a
tune:
“Consider, good cow, consider;
This is no time of year for the grass to
grow—
Consider, good cow, consider.”
The old cow died of hunger; and
when any grotesquely melancholy song
or tune is uttered, the North country
people say, “That is the tune the old
cow died on.”
Do you think your sister likes to
have me come there Jamey ?
You bet. You take her to the
theatre and bring her candies.
I am glad I can make her happy.
Yes, and the other feller what she’s
engaged to don’t mind it, either, for it
saves him that much money toward
going to housekeeping.
Simonstern (the auctioneer) —Here
I hes a chenuine diamond ring, vort
dree hundret und feefty foliar. Der
vidow ohs a man dot died sudden has
gotter sell it. How mooch am I offert?
Customer (promptly)—Ten cents.
Simonstern —Take it avay, unt pay
at der desk. Chflkey pring up der
Dead Jod!
Bulwib.
Love and Spring.
One far-off day, when Time was young,
And Spring, a new-born fairy,
About the world her mantle flung
With many a sweet vagary,
The chiming of the lily bells,
Her dainty footsteps’ after,
The busy brook, where rippling dwells
Soft echo of her laughter,
Awoke young Love, who sleeping lay;
Then up the urchin started
And vowed by all the buds of May
They’d never more be parted.
Her heart beneath its golden zone
Grew lighter than a feather;
If Love and Spring are fair alone,
What must they be together ?
A power that earth to heaven uplifts—
Ah, wisely was it fated,
That two of Jove’s divinest gifts
Should be forever mated!
—Sydney Grey.
Why Woman is Man’s Best
Friend.
First and foremost, woman is man’s
best friend:
Because she is h’s mother.
Second, becausa she is his wife.
Because she is patient with him in
illness, endures his fretfulness and
“mothers” him.
Because she will stick to him through
good and evil report, and always believe
in him, if she loves him.
Because without her he would be
rude, rough and ungodly.
Because she teaches him the value of
gentle words, of kindly thought and of
consideration.
Because she can, with him, endure
pain quietly and meet joy gladly.
Because, on her breast, he can shed
tears of repentance, and he is never re
minded of them afterwards.
Because when he is behaving like a
fretful boy —and we all do, you know,
at times —with no reason in the world
for it, woman’s soft word, touch or
glance will make him ashamed of him
self as he ought to be.
Because without her as an incentive
he would grow lazy; there would be no
good work done, there would be no no
ble books written, there would be no
beautiful pictures painted, there would
be no divine strains of melody.
Because she has made for us a beau
tiful world in which we should be
proud to live, and contented to die.
Because —and this is the best reason
of all—when the world had reached an
unenviable state of wickedness, the
blessed task of bringing it a Saviour for
all mankind was given to a woman,
which was God’s way of setting his seal of
approval on her who is mother, wife,
daughter and sweetheart, and, there
fore, man’s best friend.— Ladies Home
Journal.
The Western & Atlantic Railroad M
tow M the ( ‘old reliable.”
NO. 12.
