Newspaper Page Text
VOL. V.-NO. 22.
E apele tor are to the
SEXTANT.
BY A. GASPER.
fTh ;g poem ought to be printed every year
Ji on au average and then its lessons will
too well learned.]
isoitantof the meetlnouse which sweeps
a‘-1 dusts, or is supposed to! and makes tires,
I'dlitoa the gas, audsumtimes leaves a screw
to which case it smels orful—wus than kun-
Ind wrings the Bel and toles It, and sweeps
ind forWese servases gits $10') per annum;
ieb them that thinks deer let cm try It;
"i r-n up before starlito in all wethers, and
r ndlin fieis when the wether is as cold
[s zero, and like as not green wood for kind
twouldn't be hierd to do It for no some;)
i t o Sextant, the: e are one kermodity
r-ith more than gold« hieh don’t cost nuthin;
jfutb more than anything except the Sole of
Man! * x »
mean power Are, Sextant, I mean pewer
Are!
litis plenty out o dores, so plenty it doant no
What on airth to dew with itself, but llize
about
fraterin leaves and bloin off men’s hats;
in'stort its jest as free as Are out dores;
gut 0 Sextant! in our church its scarce as
piety,
Scarce as bankbils when ajunts beg form's
hnns.
With sum say is purty often, taint nothing to
(That I give aint nothin to nobody; but O Sex
tant!
sou shot 500 men, women and children,
Speshily the latter, up in a tfto place,
«ome has bad breths, none of em aint too
sweet,
Sum is fevery, sum is scroflus, sum has bad
teeth,
And sum hnlntnone, and sum aint over clean;
But evry one of em brethes in and out and out
and in
Say 50 times a mmnet, or 1 milion and a half
breths an hour;
Mow how long will a cherch full of Are last at
that rate?
laskj-ou; say 15 mlnnots, and then what’s to
ba did?
Whv then they must brethe it all over agin,
And then agin and so on, til each has took it
down
At least 10 limes and let it up agin, and whats
more,
The sjme individible d<~ant hav the privilege
Os brethin his own Are cud no one's else,
Each one must take wotever comes to him.
10 Sextant! doant you know our lungs is bel
lusses
To bio the tier of life and keep it from
Goin out: and how can bellusses bio without
wind?
And aint wind Are? I put it to your konshens.
Are is the same to us as milk to babies,
Or water is to fish, or pendlums to ciox,
Orroots and alrbs uutc tin Injun Doctor,
Or little pills unto an omepath,
Orßoze to gurls. Are is for us to brethe.
What sigtdties who preaches es I cant brethe?
What's Pol? What’s Follus to s.nners who
are ded?
Ded for want of breth? why Sextant when we
dye
Its only coz we cant brethe no more—that’s all.
And now o Sextant! let me beg of you
To let a leetle Are into our cherch;
Irewer Are is sertiu proper for the pews,)
And dew it week days and on Sundys tew—
It amt much trubble—only make a hoal
And then the Are will come iu of itself,
. j ® s to . r ' onl(1 In where it can git warm.)
And o how it will rouze the people up
Ann Rperr-.f tin thn vmnohor. an,t s*opgtn»*r'o
And yorns and fijjits as effectool
As wind on the dry Bonus the Profit tels
-Mn, AraheUaWillson. in Christian WeeMv.
PUSH AM) PLUCK.
“Push—push— push! Yes, it’s got to
be push all the time with me if I’m ever
[goingto amount to anything, and I’m
bound! will!”
Jim Brand drew as close as he could
to the little end window of the garret in
which lie slept, trying to catch the last
ra y s bf light on his worn book.
t “It s a tussle!” he presently ex
claimed, looking off into a dark corner
of the room, with a face which showed
a mind hard at work over some knotty
/•rob.em. “If ] onlv had some one to
show me a bit! The words are all
straight enough—l’ve got them pat, but
"here the sense comes in’s more than I
can see. ‘The square of the hypothe
iiuse ot a right angle triangle is equal to
ie squares of the other two sides.’ To
sure, but how to get at it is what
beats me.”
vim closed the book, one he had dip
ped into because he had exhausted
everything else within his reach. But
le expression of full determination to
conquer some day what now baffled him
as fixed on his bright, homely face
•ndseemed to extend to every stout
iiuo of his stubby frame. The boy’s
sturdy resolve to obtain an education
?bAv and throve under what m'ght be
oonsideied great disadvantages, were it
Oi that it has been abundantly proven
that to the
to t . r of minds obstacles seem only
jnnrmsh stepping-stones to higher suc-
He lived with his widowed mother in
’Wall country village, and for the last
“ tears had worked for a farmer—
nf / i' vo }. ’ Poor pay and a scant taste
tions nn«, n “ * n "inter. His aspira
ns now were tor something better in
[ e "W of instruction than the country
chool afforded. Four miles away, in a
a’gertown, was a good teacher, and
, im wanted now to stay at home, study
■’bier and recite to this man, but how
acc °niplish this he could not see, for
e must still earn his living and heli) his
toother. “
A triweekly mail was carried
‘rough their t illage, it being off any
“gmar routes. The carrying of this
hern offered to Jim and had excit-
J “im greatly, for the same road would
i e h'm to the teacher he was anxious
o reach, thus enabling him to kill two
3 >r<ls with one stone. ’ But difficulties
’'ore in the way. A scrubby pony had
I eu placed at his disposal for a very
° w price—his carefully hoarded sav
[Hgs would cover it—but its keep was a
; e nous matter. Jim had been cherish
ing another project for a year past.
s ’iinmer he, in company with an
■ 'li farm-laborer, had been driving an
sornlo - lav '"’agon along the road when
~.i . e . t ‘ nn g appeared in the distance
"tovh astonished both. It was surely
f 'flier man, horse nor dog. It came
arf l l Hem with marvelous speed, and
. ' >t drew near developed a human, yet
[ toman, aspect which had something
giit'nlly comical about it. The horses
I restless at the uncanny sight, and
f(''-v, Sp . I i an . K to their heads, while Pat,
j''ntly invoking Hie protection ot the
gm Mary and an untold number of
lnts > showed his lack of faith in their
Sl)t Ballon Gratis.
efforts in his behalf by immediately
tumbling himself over the hedge, where
he lay concealed.
As the thing came near it ran to the
side of the road opposite to which Jim
had turned his horses, and there fell to
pieces, and while one part of it leaned
against the fence, the other, in the shape
of a well-looking, blue-iianneled boy,
ran toward Jim.
‘‘Oh—did I frighten your horses?”
he cried, in a tone of frank politeness.
“Well, I’m sorry. 1 ought to have stopped
sooner, but where 1 live the horses are
getting used to them and I didn’tthink.
Whoa, now—poor fellow,” patting
them, and the well-meaning creatures
looked an immediate i ecognition of the
friendly voice and touch.
“What have you got there?” asked
Jim, looking in great curiosity at the
thing leaning against the fence.
“ A bicycle—havn’t you seen any? I
guess there are not very many about yet,
but my father’s a machine man and that’s
how 1 came by the luck of getting one.
We’re boarding at Farmer Merrivale’s
down there and I can make the distance
out here in loss than no time.” This was
indefinite, but it was three miles, and
Jim had seen for himself how like a
thing of life the wonderful skeleton
steed moved. He examined it with
thoughtful eyes.
“It doesn’t have to eat, does it?”
“No,” said the boy, laughing, “only
a little oil once in awhile.”
But its cost was beyond that of a
pony. Jim .watched in delight and
longing as it, with its owner, were
spinningdown the road, while Pat crept
from his hiding-place with many an ex
clamation over the “wan-legged wheel
barry.”
From that hour Jim had never given
up the idea of possess’ng a bicy le,
and in dreams had seen more than
one picture of himself flying over lhe
roads carrying on his back a bag of
mail-matter and a sachel of school
books.
“I think I’ll go down to the State
Fa r next week, mother.”
“To the State Fair, Jimmy?” she said,
in surprise. He did not often go on a
frolic.
“Yes, I’m going to try if I can't make
a little money there.”
“ How, my boy?”
“I’m told" the fair-grounds are more
than a mile, out of the city, and that
there’s always a great demand for teams
to carry passengers to and from it.
I’ve been talking to Deacon Granger,
and he’s willing to trust me with his
pair of grays, aud I’m gong to hire
Brown’s big new spring wagon, and I
believe I can make a good deal over
what I shall have to pay for team and
wagon.”
“ And their keep, and your own —P”
this mother and son were used to very
close calculating.
“ Yes, I think I can do it.”
He was on the alert for passengers
early on the first morning of the fair.
Exhibitors only were arriving on that
day, but he found plenty to do among
those who desired the carriage of light
articles and fancy wares. On the sec
ond day the people came pouring in
from all directions, and the accommo
dating boy with the well-governed, light
stepping grays was in constant demand
The third day was brilliant in sunshine,
and citv and fair-grounds and the space
intervening seemed alike overflowing
with the busy, merry, chattering crowd.
About the middle of the forenoon
came a lull in Jim’s work, the arriving
stream having about ceased and the re
turning one not vet begun. Jim went
for a look at the machinery, much of
which had arrive I sin e he had been
aroun i that way before. He gated for
a while awe-struck at the great power
eng ne, quietly moving its ponderous
arms an 1 wheels in such fearful, master
ful strength for goo lor for ill. He was
then examining with intelligent interest
the beautiful perfection of some im
proved farming impL meats when his
attention was drawn to something which
moved in and out among surrounding
on-lookers with almost the swiftness
and lightness of a sunbeam. It was a
graceful, boyish fig re mounted on a
bicycle which gleamed and shone in
polished steel and nickel-plating. And
as he came nearer and sprang lightly to
the ground, Jim’s fa e beamed wilh
surprise and pleasure as ho perceived
that it was the same boy whom he had
seen more than a year before.
“Halloo!” he said, as Jim m desily
appr ached to look at the bicycle.
“Havn’t I seen you leiore s mewhere.
] have, I know; why yes, don t yen re
mem'er the time I frightened join
horses?”
Jim was charmed by the cirdialrec
oo-nition, and the two I oys were soon in
earnest discussion over the merits of
the different machines. Harvey (. enn
was able to point out to Jim many ex
< ellencics he had not before appreci
ated laving his hands familiarly on
s me of the swift, moving intricacies
with a daring which made Jim trem de;
imp essing him deeply, to >, by the in
formation that hie fathar represented
the ffreat machine company which had
sent a nunil er of these magnificent
things on exhibition. lhe bicycle, a
m ><lel in I eauty. strength and adapta
ti< n to the use for which it was intend
ed, came in for its full share o. admir
ing attention. _
“This is an exhibiti n machine, ex
plained Harvey. “Most of those made
for sale are a little heavier built, for
greater strength, and a - e not got up
quite so finely.”
And in the course of chat Jim con
fided to H.-.’-vey his hopes and inten
tions as to himself owning a bicycle
some day. And Harvey insisted on his
mounting this one. giving. h r ' n . l
tions in the way of managing it, which
Jim did, and after a few turns of the
DALTON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, JANUARY 20, 1833.
wheel, during which he felt as if ho or
his fairy steed, or both, had taken
wings, the big wheel began to wabble
unreasonably and Jim to incline wildly
first to one side and then the other.
Then the little wheel grew skittish, and
as it rose obstreperously I ehind Jim
went down Before, amid shouts of good
humored laughter.
But it was hushed all of a sudden,
for there came a loud and terrible
sound which struck fear to every heart
—a stunning report, then quick rend
ing—tearing—crashing. And as Jim
gathered himself up, dazed, deafened
and bewildered, cries of alarm and suf
fering arose on the one moment of
dread silence which had followed the
shock. It was some little time before
those who gathered frantically around
couuld understand that a steam-boiler
had exploded with awful violence, deal
ing destruction and death among the
assembled multitudes, but it was only
a breathing time before a wail of
anguish went up from stricken ones
whose own had been smitten down at
their very sides.
J tn was blinded by quick coming
tears as he bent over the apparently
lifeless form of his just now joyous
companion. A dark line of blood slow
ly trickled from under his hair, and
Jim turned half faint as he saw blood
gathering under h’m on the grass. He
was about to raise a cry for help when
a tall man knelt down by the boy with
a white face and trembling hands,
rearing open h : s coat he applied his
ear to his chest.
“I am a physician,” said another
man, hurrying up, and together they
made a hasty examination of injuries
which were found to be serious but not
probably fatal.
“What shall I do?” said Harvey’s
father, looking about him in distressed
perplexity. “I ought to take him to
the hotel at once—and then again, I
“ught to be seeing after more of these
poor souls—and the mischief my wares
have worked.”
~lf you will trust him with me,”
said the physician, “I will go and take
care of him. See, there are already
more doctors than patients here.”
Harvey opened his eyes.
“Yes—l ll go, father. Dont be anx
ious—l’ll soon be all right.”
Mr. Glenn asked Jim to run for a
hack which stood a little distant from
them. But as he pointed to the
wounded boy with a few eager words
the driver stood stolidly and shook his
head.
“No—l can’t have my carriage
•spoiled with that sort o' wovk. i
couldn’t use it again to-day and 1 can’t
afford it.”
With a face ablaze with indignation
Jim hurried to another driver with much
the same result.
•*l’m here with a party —can't do any
thing else.” Some drivers quietly
mo . ed their vehicles to another part of
the grounds to avoid being called on to
assist in the removal ot wounded and
dead.
“I’ve got a light wagon,” said Jim.
going back to the doctor, almost choked
withanger. “May 1 bring that?”
“Yes—quick.”
The seats were torn out with little
ceremony. Straw was placed in the bed
of the wagon, upon which Harvey was
tenderly laid. Then the horses were
led round to where other sufferers lay
and two more were added to the load.
Again Jim’s heart grew sick at sight of
torn, bleeding bodies and anxious
friends trving to improvise comforts and
bring some relief, and be turned his half
dizzy head the other way as they passed
a building in which he knew were lying
those suddenly called out of the sun
shine and the summer air and the busi
ness and the pleasure.
“Comeback,” whispered Mr. Glenn
as .Tim took his slow way to the town.
•‘There’s hardly one of these heathen
drivers will bear a hand.”
Jim came back and carried two more
injured men, unknown bj r any one
there, so far as he could learn. Then
again for others whose mourning friends
followed in a carriage. At night, over
excited by the sad scenes through which
he had given such ready, self-forgetting
aid. he went to his bed, feeling as if he
never could close his eyes again. But
sweet sleep watches in kindliness on the
steps of such, and the country boy’s
rest was unbroken by dreams of the
day’s tragedy. When lie awoke the
sun was beaming as benignly as if it
had not last shone on hearts shadowed
while time should last on what it had
then witnessed. ,
He first went to the hotel at which he
had left Harvey, and was cheered by
hearing fair accounts of his condition
and that his mother had come to him.
Then he turned his attention to his
wagon, spattered and dripped with the
marks of his fearful loads of the day be
fore. It took him hours to wash it, re
quiring such an amount of energetic
scrubbino- that he soon perceived that a
thorough’repainting would be necessary
to put it in condition to return to its
owner. It was not fit to ofler for pas
senders now. He drove out to the fair
grounds, thinking he might see some-
of his seats, and did, indee 1, spy
what looked like them in a huge pile of
ruins from the disaster, but they were
quite beyond reach. He caught sight of
Harvey’s father, who turned at his ap
proach and gave him a warm shake of
the hand, but his attention was instant
ly claimed again by those who passed
about him. .
As Jim turned his horses homeward
he was ashamed of himself that he felt
much depressed at realizing how utter
ly his expedition had been a failure in a
money point of view. Ashamed that
his heart, which had so stood still be
fore the woe oi others, could give a
■ thought to his own light loss. In his in
-1 nocent respect for the afflicted he had
not for a moment thought of applying
for what was justly his due, and would,
of course, have been willingly paid for
his most valuable services in "a time of
such a need. The loss would throw
him back a year, perhaps more, in his
pursuit of learning. But he was made
of the stuff which occasionally sends a
boy from the prairie or the log cabin to
Uie White House—more of them to high
places in civil and military life, and,
perhaps, better, sends boys all over the
length and breadth of the land to fill
worthy p'aces as exemplars of all that
is noble and honorable in American
manhood.
Arrived at home he made terms for
the complete putting in order of the
wagon. This, with his horse hire, used
up a little more than he had made aX
the fair before the accident occurred.
“Halloo, here—Jim? You’re Jim
Braud, ain’t you?”
“ Yes,” said Jim, thus hailed by a
farm-hand who drove up to his moth
er’s gate and spied him at work in the
garden.
“ Well, here then.” He turned away
as Jim took a bulky letter from his
hand.
“Any answer?” shouted Jim.
“Guess not. Not as I was told of.”
Jim carried it in the house and sat by
his mother as he opened it. This was
nearly a month after his venture at the
fair.
Several sheets of paper, headed each
with the device of a steam-power and
business-like lettering, were covered on
one side with boyish-looking hand
writing. From among these fell a
small piece of paper. Jim had never
seen many like it, but h’s hand shook
as, first looking at it, he passed it to his
mother.
This was the letter:
“Dear Old Fellow: Father wanted to
write to you just as s o i as i “ c uld think
straight about tw.ytioag. i 1.1 i.e, ed him to
wait t ill could do it, so that's why you h ivev’t
heard from us before. Father expected to s.
you again at the fair, but couldn’t find you.
Other people wanted you, too. They said you
di In tgo tor your pay for helping folka Why
didn’t you? You were a goose. Father’s had
quite a time finding out how to address you,
but the Merrivales told him.
“I’ve been brought home, but the doctors
think I’ll have to lie still a longtime yet. I
don t like it at all, but mother says it’s sure to
be all right somehow or it wouldn't be so. My
mother's that sort. I’m glad she is. I think
that sort is the best to have, when you're in
trouble and when you're out of trouble, too.
“ But what 1 want to tell you most of all is
that the Co. that means, you knew, ah the
folks of the machine works, think you did the
right up ana aown square tnmg oy tnem ana
by everybody else that day of the explosion.
So they send you this two hundred d liars just
tomakesur ; you didn’t loss anything by it,
aud father hopes its enough, and ho says you
behaved admirably, and if you ever want a
c 2 .>.-•, WTVtnv lx. I-,.. .-j
that kind of thing.
“By the time this letter reaches yon you 11
find my bicycle waiting for you at the railroad
station, so you’d better go and get it. Father
was going to send you one himself but —-
now you needn’t mind about it at all, tor I
don’t believe it’s going to be so at all - but some
of tbo doctors think perhaps I won’t ever ride
a bicycle any more, and I'm fond of mine and
dop’t want any other boy should have it but
yob.
“ We’ll all be up to Merrivale’s next summer
and th-n I'll see you. Mother says she’ll nev
er be satisfied till she sees Jim’s mother to tell
her how you stood by us that time. 1 can’t
write any"more uow. You write to me and 111
write again. Harvey Glenn.
“Ho! Bother it, mother,” said Jim
with a great assumption of indifference,
“ they must be the queerest folks—mak
ing such a fuss over what you’ve done
when you haven’t done anything at all!”
But “Jim’s mother” was crying as
she kissed him and thought of the moth
er whose boy might never again ride a
bicycle, and Jim went out into a corner
of the garden and looked very hard at
nothing for a long time.
Less than a year afterward Jim, fly
ing swi tly along with a mind intent
upon a knotty Latin construction, was
scarcely aware of being overtaken and
passed bv something which then ran
into the side of tne road, where a bicy
cle fell into the grass and its rider sud
denly confronted him. In his over
whelming astonishment Jim entirely
lost control of his own vehicle, and
went down in the dust with it. Pick’ng
himself up, hardly knowing whether
h s eves did not deceive him. his hands
were warmly grasped, and two happier
boy-faces never, surely, looked into each
other.
“Harvey!”
“Jim!”
Jim stopped to gather his books in
the little silence which followed.
“Begging at them yet?” said Harvey.
“Yes, pushing away—but it’s slow
work.”
“Ah, but mother says you re a chap
that’s sure to go skitmg straight up to
the very top notch —I don’t mean, you
know, that she says just those words,
but”—his face grew grave at the
memory of the circumstances under
which he had last seen Jim, “she says
when folks push with their heads and
heartsboth they’re sure to win and
she says you’re that sort ” — Sydney
Daure. in Chicaao Standard.
Pass Out fit the Rear Door.
A conductor of the fast train of the
Susquehanna division of the Erie Rail
way has his brakeman say, after an
nouncing the name of each station,
“Passengers will pass out the rear door
to the station.” Much has been said of
the desirableness of uniformity in enter
ing and leaving railway car?, but it is
prooable that it will never be secured
until trainmen adopt the plan of the Erie
conductor to whom reference is here
made. It was noticeable that almost
without exception the request as to exit
at the rear door of the car was observed,
leaving the front door of each car free
for the entrance of passengers at each
Mation. The plan not only saves time,
but it prevents the jostling which is so
disagreeable to everybody.— N. 1 •
and Express.
—The Connecticut new law requires
that the doors of saloons be sca.ed by
officials, every Sunday.
Toads ana Frops.
“ Early in the spring the marshes re
sound with vocal noises, which many of
you have doubtless been told were made
by frogs. I tell you, however,” said
Prof. Bickmorcto his attentive audience
of school-teachers at the Museum of
Natural History Saturday, “that these
sounds most always come from the
throats of toads, not frogs.” Only the
male toad sings, and, when visitors to
the country seat themselves on door
steps in the pleasant evenings of May
and June to listen to the singing of the
frogs in a neighboring mill-pond, they
are in reality listening to the singing of
male toads. 'The curious process of
natural development in frogs and toads
was fully described and illustrated by
Prof. Biekmore. Toads lay their eggs
on the leaves of trees or plants that
grow in the water or by the edge of
ponds. When rains come the eggs
are washed into the water, and
there they undergo successive
changes, until from little black balls
they take on the form of small animate
objects something the shape of a tad
pole. The development then rapidly
continues until full growth is attained.
At first toads and frogs live on animal
food, but as they approach their normal
condition they evince a fondness for
vegetable food as well. Animal feeders
have very simple and straight alimen
tary canals, while in vegetable feeders
the alimentary canals assume a compli
cated form. Not only are the changes
in form among frogs and toads very
curious, but sometimes they grow
smaller after arriving at full growth.
Most of the toads have tongues, but not
all of them. 'The tongues are attached
to the anterior part of the mouth, and
point down the throat. A toad takes
its food into the mouth by a quick mo
tion of the tongue, somewhat resembling
the snapping of a whip. A frog’s skin,
the lecturer explained, is always smooth
and soft, while a toad’s skin is covered
ith disagreeable looking excresences.
These excresences are filled with an
acrid fluid of whitish color, which in a
measure protects the toads from the
storks and other birds and beasts that
prey upon the frogs. Snakes are the
toads’ worst enemies. A small snake
can swallow a very large toad.
Prof. Biekmore called attention to a
singular kind of toad that was found in
the northern part of South America.
When the female lays her eggs the male
toad takes them in his hand, one by
one, and places them carefully upon
the mother’s back. A soft glutinous
♦;>« a i-; n causes the tp
firmly adhere and gradually they s nk
into the female’s back and are covered
over by a thin sk n. In due time the
heads and arms of young toads make
their way through this thin skin, and
complete birth soon lollows. The Pro
fessor gave a large number of interest
ing illustrations of creatures belonging
to'the class of Batrachians, and extract
ed a great deal of instructive and en
tertaining matter from a brief study of
fossils and fossilized foot-prints in the
mud of ages none by.—AT. Y. Times.
Blasting Stamps.
A correspondent inquires for the
modus operandi of blasting stumps with
dynamite. Make a hole an inch in di
ameter, near the stump, says the South
ern Cultivator, inclining at an angle of
about forty-five degrees, so as to reach
underneath the body of the stump. This
hole may be made with a crowbar
through the soil, but if there be a large
tap-root it will be necessary to continue
the hole into the body of the tap
root by means of a long auger. A
cartridge containing three or four ounces
of dvnamite is then inserted to the bot
tom of the hole and a slow match hav
ing a peculiar percussion cap on the end
is inserted in the cartridge. The holo is
then tampered with earth, and when all
is ready the outer end of the match is
lighted and the operator retires to a
safe distance. The explosion usually
not only extracts the stump from the
ground but tears it into pieces small
enough to handle easily. The dynamite
costs” about forty cents per pound, so
that a three or four ounce charge with
its fuse would cost about ten cents
making the cost of Mowing up a stump
about ten cents, beside the labor.
A Little Close, Perhaps.
Sam Egly is not precisely a close
man, but he is a little frugal about his
personal expenses. He lives out in the
country, but he comes to Austin every
once in a while to collect his rents, and
on such occasions he makes an earnest
effort to reduce his personal expenses to
a minimum. He was in town a few j
days ago. and Gilhooly met him. He
looked very ill, as if he had been run
ning for o 1 ce and been defeated.
“What’s the matter, Bill?”
“Matter enough. I haven’tbeen able
to eat a bite they put on the table at
the hotel I ani stopping at, and at
ni’dit the bed-bugs nearly eat me up
alive. I’ve lost ten pounds in three
days.” .
“Well, what do vou put up at a fifth
rate hotel for when you come to
Austin?” , ,
••Because I don’t know where there
is any sixth-rate hotel. Now, Gilhooly,
if you know where there is a sixth-rate
hotel, just let me know, and I’ll patron
ize it. 1 can’t a'lord to spread myself
at a tith-rate hotel if there is a sixth-rate
hotel in the Texas Siblings.
—As Rev. Spicher, the other Sunday,
was descending the banks of a stream at
the Dunkard Church, near Gettysburg,
Indiana County, Pa., for the purpose
of immersing a lady, he made a misstep
and fell, throwing the lady and himself
into the water, and but for the timely
aid of some of the congregation, both
would have been drowned.
TEEMS'- SI.OOA YEA!
FACTS AND FIHIIHES.
—One vessel was lost at sea every
f® ir hours during 1881, according to the
English Nautical Gazette. In 1879-80
there were 400 steamboat collisions in
the North Atlantic Ocean.
—Switzerland has 1,237 cotton mills,
employing 5.5,754 persons. There are
182 silk factories, employing 17,394 per
sons: 4.5 woolen factories, with 2,447
linudSy and 7 linen works, with 678
hands.
—The Massachusetts Society for the
Promotion of Agriculture awarded
prizes during the years named for re
markable one-acre pot ato crops in Mas
sachusetts as follows: 1817, 402 bush
els; 1818, 498 bushels; 1819, 535 bush
els; 1820, 670 bushels; 1821, 551 J bush
els: 1822, 547 bushels; 1823, 688} bush
els.
—The City Government of New York
is an expensive thing. There are 5,981
persons in the service of the corpora
tion, who receive salaries amounting to
$7,511,013.71. not including 3,151 per
sons employed by the Board of Educa
tion, with salaries aggregating $2,718,-
257.92, and a host of day laborers and
temporary clerks.—N. F. Mail.
—l ate accounts from California no
tice the groat increa e in the size of the
vineyards there. A plantation of 200
acres u-ed to be considered a large
vineyard; now vineyards of 500 and 600
acres are not uncommon, and one of
],500 acres was recently planted near
Los Angeles. It is expected that in
three years or so California will possess
vineyards of 5,000 or 6,000 acres in ex
tent. The total number of acres at
present devoted to vine culture is esti
mated at about 100,000, all of which
will be bearing in about four years’
time, and producing about forty or fifty
million gallons annually.
—Dr. J. Woo Hand writes to the Lancet
that, having had his attention directed
to sever . 1 cases of great irritation of the
feet: nd legs, causing small pustules to
arise and the skin to subsequently ex
foliate. and suspicion being fastened
upon red stockings which the patients
wore, he c ircfully analyzed them. He
found a tin salt which is used as a mor
dant in fixing the dye. He succeeded
in obtaining as much as 22.8 grains of this
metal in the form of the dioxide, and as
each time the articles are washed the
tin salt is rendered more easily soluble,
the acid excretions from the feet attack
the tin oxide, thus forming an irritating
fluid.
—The record of Montanafor 1882 will
UIIUH H-A-* *•- - - —'•* —Jt
railroad, an increase of 15,000 perma
nent residents, and the establishment of
peace among the red men. The bullion
product will aggregate $8,000,000 in
value, while 50,000 nead of cattle and
3,000,000 pounds of wool will be mar
keted. The harvests have been abun
dant and prices better than foryears, and
some 50,000 acres have been added to
the cultivated area. Nearly 100,000
head of cattle and 150,000 head of sheep
have been put upon the vast stock
ranges in addition to the regular in
crease from herds formerly there, and
over and above these evidences of pros
perity is the prediction of a geologist
that Montana will one day be the great
est coal-producin<r State in the Union.
The Gold Product of California.
The gold product of California, from
the discovery of the precious metal by
James W. Marshall, in the tail-race of
Sutler’s Mill, January 19, 1848, to
June 30, 1881, amounted to $1,170,-
000,000. Os this sum $900,000,000 is
estimated to have been extracted from
the auriferous placers. The remainder
represents the yield of gold-quartz
mines, of which the State contains
many. The yearly product of gold in
California is "from $15,000,000 to $20,-
000,000. From the date of discovery to
1861 inclusive, the gold product of Cal
ifornia aggregated $700,000,000, derived
chiefly from the modern river-beds and
shallow placers. A large proportion of
the remaining $200,000,000 has been ob
tained in the deep gravel deposits, by
the hydraulic method. Strange as it
may appear, an industry which has con
tributed so largely to the wealth of the
world, and has been the means of the
settlement and development of Califor
nia, has reached a period in its history
when it is claimed by a large portion of
the community to be a greater evil than
blessing, and the question of suppress
ing the hydraulic method of gold-min
ing has been the subject of earnest dis
cussion in and out of the halls of legis
lation. The law has been invoked to
suppress or control it. Even the State,
through its Attorney-General, has com
menced a suit to suppre s it. The
trouble grows out of the immense
amount of debris which the hydraulic
miners a e discharging constantly into
the water-courses of the State.— The
Century.
“Young man,” said a college pro
fessor to an under-graduate who had
asked for and obtained leave of absence
to attend his grandmother’s funeral—
“young man, I find, ou looking over the
records, that this is the fifth time you
have been excused to attend the funeral
of your grandmother. Your leave of
absence is therefore revoked. Your
grandmother must get herself buried
without you this time.”
—Governor Blackburn, of Kentucky,
leads ol in the pardon business. Dur
ing his administration of nearly four
ye'ars he has pardoned more than 1,500
criminals, remitted fines of more than
$2,000,000 and granted respites toother
fines to the amount of some $1,000,000.
—Chicas'i Herald,