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VOLUME III.
THE COURIER.
PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY.
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S. j. G 00 K,
Editor and Publisher.
Calhoun Gownty Directory.
SUPERIOR COURT.
IIoi). B. B. Bower. Judge; Clerk. J. IV. Walters, Spring
Solicitor General; J. H. Coram,
term convenes on second Monday in June.
Fall term second Monday in December.
\ .&OB3SVT-. C, •'TIGERS.' >
Ordinary, A. L. Monroe; Sheriff, Tax W. Be W-
Gladden; Tax Collector, E. S. Jones;
ceiver, Thos. F. Cordray; Treasurer, C. H. Gee
County School Commissioner, J. J. Beck’
County Surveyor, C. P. Norton; Coroner, A. G-
Gadson,
1 COUNTY COURT.
L. G. Cartledge, Judge. Quarterly sessions
4t,h Mondays in February, May, August 4th Mon¬ and
November. Monthly sessions every
day.
COMMISSIONERS R. R.
John Colley, J. G. Collier and J. T. B. Fain,
Courts held 1st Tuesday in each month.
JUSTICES OF THE PEACE AND NOTARIES
PUBLIC.
574th District—B. J. Thigpen, J. P.; C. F.
Blocker, N. P. and Ex-Officio J. P. Courts
held 3d Wednesday in each month.
1123d District—J. L. Wilkerson, .T. P.; John
each’month. Hasty, N. P. Courts held 2nd Thursday in
626th District—J. C. Price, J. P.; N. W.
Pace, N. P. Courts held 3d Saturdays in each
month.
1283d District—J. N. Price, J. P. ; B. B.
Davis, N. P. Courts held 3d Saturdays iD
each month.
1316th District—Thos. IV. Holloway, J. P.;
C. L. Smith, N. P. Courts held 2d Saturday
in each month.
1304th District—Thos. H. Griffin, J. P.; John
A. Cordray, N. P. Courts held 1st Saturday in
each month.
Baker Bounty Dirgetory.
SUPERIOR COURT.
B. B. Bow. r, Judge; Hudspeth, J. W. "Walters, Clerk. Spring Solici¬
tor General; B. F. Fall
term convenes on first Monday in May.
term first Monday in November.
COUNTY COURT.
John O. Perry, Judge. Monthly sessions
held first Mondays—Quarterly sessions first
Mondays iu January, April, Julyand October.
COMMISSIONERS Ii. R.
NY. NY. Williams, T. H. Caskie, J. W. Thayer,
W. L. Spirlin. Courts held on first Tuesdays
n eaoh month.
COUNTY OFFICERS.
Ordinary. W. T. Livingston: Sheriff, G. T.
Galloway; Tax Collector, B. B. Odom; TaxBe-
seiver, J. M. Odom; Treasurer, L. B. G. Rowell; Hali.
Surveyor, O. D. Brown; Coroner, D.
JUSTICES OF THE PEACE AND NOTARIES
PUBLIC.
971st District—S. J. Livingston, J. P.; W. C.
Odom, N. P. Courts held 1st Saturday in each
month.
6 th District— G. T. Galloway, J. P.; T. H.
Caskie, N. P. Courts held 2nd Saturday in
sack month.
Brow£ N: S R iC CWt?hcld V 3Tsatui'da P y ; in E ea?h
month.
1193d District—L. J. Mathis. J. P.; B. E.
AlcCullen, N. P. Courts held 4:h Saturdays in
:h month.
LEAHY. GEORGIA, FRIDAY FEBRUARY 13.1885.
THE PRISON OF LOR VAIN,
BELGIUM’S PECULIAR WAY OF KEEP¬
ING ITS CONVICTS.
Shut Ont From All Intercourse with Fel¬
low Man—A Terrible Existence.
In the whole of Europe there is but
one prison in which the systeme cel-
lulaire of absolute isolation by day aud
by night is still enforced, and it has, on
that ground, a strange and sad celeb¬
rity. That one prison is the Maison
Centrale of Louvain, Belgium.
The buildings of the prison all con¬
verge to a central apsis, whence a warder
can easily survey the six immense ave¬
nues or wings, consisting of two stories
of cells. While some slight repairs
were being done to one of these cells, a
figure suddenly appeared standing mo¬
tionless at the door—a mysterious and
ghastly apparition, clad entirely in
white linen, head and face closely
masked by a hood of the same material.
Air was admitted to eyes, nose, and
mouth by four round holes. Obeying a
rapid sign from the warder, the figure
turned to the wall, and crossed its hand
behind its back. It was a convict. Even
through the apertures of his concealing
headgear, the prisoner of Louvain must
never catch a passing glimpse cf any
human face beyond his keepers, and no
breath of the outer world must ever pass
upon his shrouded cheek. He wears
his linen hood summer and winter, but
during the cold he is provided with
warm brown woolen clothes. Labor is
compulsory, and the days are spent in
one unvarying monotonous round of
self-same duties.
At 6 o’clock the peals of an organ
wake the convicts. They come from the
chapel, all tire doors of which are thrown
open, and the prisoner who can play the
organ strikes the first chords. This is
the signal for all others to rise, dress,
and make up their beds and bedding.
The music lasts for fifteen minutes, and
may, at the will of the player, consist of
religious anthems, operatic airs, waltzes,
or polkas—notes that must strike with
Ireary significance on thajsars of some
of the wretched beings cloistered there.
They do not all belong to the dregs of
society.
At the last sound of the organ the
warders must find each man at his work
Breakfast consists of half a pint of coffee
and bread, and the other two meals of the
day of soup and vegetables. Three times
a week the convicts have fresh meat, but
never wine. The convict who has
earned a certificate of good conduct,
however, can procure some at the
prison canteen, as well as beer and to¬
bacco in stated quantities. Each day
the prisoners are taken out of their cells.
in rotation for solitary exercise in sep¬
arate yards. The rest of the time is en¬
tirely given up to the accomplishment
of their allotted portion of work, except
on Sunday which is a day of absolute
rest. Between the religious services the
convicts are at liberty to employ their
leisure in their cells as they think
proper. The prison library contains a
considerable collection of books of
travel, and such publications as the
Magasin Pittoresque from which each
man can make a selection. Only those
who can noither read nor write are com¬
pelled to attend school for instruction
between mass and vespers. This takes
place in the chapel itself.
Nothing can be more striking than
the construction and internal arrange¬
ments of this chapel. It is a large cycle
or wheel, consisting entirely of super¬
posed flights of steps, like a circular and
reversed amphitheatre, the centre of
which forms a raised stage, on which
stands the altar, towering far above the
iieads of the phantom-like congregation.
Each row of steps is divided into com¬
partments or pigeon holes, just large
enough for a man to sit and kneel.
When the hour for divine service has
come, the first cell is opened by a ward¬
er, and convict No. 1 is led out, con-
ducted to the chapel, and, entering the
row to which he belongs, walks to the
furthest compartment, which at once
closes upon him. Then only No. 2
leaves his C8ll and goes through the
same performance. And so on till all
are settled—no man being permitted to
mode till the one immediately preceding
him has entered his allotted pen. After
mass they are all taken back into their
cells in the same order and with the
same precautions.
There are about twelve flights of steps,
containing sixty seats each, but as the
circle of the chapel is divided by five or
six immense partitions, into each of
which the prisoners are carried simul-
taneously, the operation takes compara-
tively only a short time. From his
gtall each convict is able to see and fol-
low every movement of the priest who
° fficiateS at tIie <iX 011 1119 Central
form, while he cannot catch even a
glimpse of his right aud left hand
neighbor, . to , the ,, , height , , , of _ the ,
. owing
dividing floors, nor can he look over at
the opposite row, which is hidden by a
boarding higher than himself, and which
as effectually shuts out from his view
those above or below, before aud behind
him.
The cells are clean and well arranged.
Daylight is admitted by a small window
beyond the prisoner’s reach. The ven¬
tilation is perfect. In winter the mouth
of a hot air pipe gives sufficient heat,
and in the evening the necessary light
is procured by a gas jet, to whioh there
is no access from the interior of the cell.
The furniture consists of a washstand, a
commode on the best sanitary principle,
a shelf supporting some pewter utensils,
and an iron bed. The bedding is a
foundation of sacking, a mattress, two
sheets, one blanket in summer and two
in winter, and a bolster. The
has to fold and put these things away.
The bed itself is taken to pieces and
placed against the wall, forming a table,
in front of which is a stool. The re--
mainder of the space is taken up by the
implements necessary to the convict’s
obligatory daily task. .
The rules of the prison are such that
the convicts must replace their hooded
masks as soon as the doors of their cells
open. They cannot expose their faces
even to their warders. If, perchance, a
face is seen by a doctor it is paled by
the long sunless shadow in which it lives
and the want of bracing, blowing air, for
even the daily walk of an hour in the
prison yards is at best only exercise in
cramped passagos between two high
walls, partly roofed, shut in by iron
gates, stretching out like the sticks of a
gigantic fan, and where a few stunted
plants soon wither and die. The pris¬
oners have that flaccid fleshiness which
comes from absence of movement and
stimulating activity; yet in contradiction
to the opinion prevailing in France that
no man could stand solitary confinement
for ten years without succumbing or get¬
ting insane, it has been found not to be
the case at Louvain. Two of the inmates
have dwelt there sinee 1864, the date of
its foundation, being transferred to the
Central house after a ten years’ impris-
Rt-Ohen^ They biya been (
demned to death, but owing to the vir¬
tual abolition of the penalty of death in
Belgium, the King had commuted their
sentence to the perpetual entombment
of their present abode. When prisoners
have deserved an alleviation of their
penalty by ten years of uninterrupted
good conduct, they are sent to Ghent,
where tbe rules of the prison allow of
their working in common.
A New Story About Charlie Ross.
A dispatch from Baltimore, Md., says:
Mrs. Shulton, a young lady of good so¬
cial standing, recently published a letter
in which she stated that while searching
for a child for adoption she met a woman
giving the name of Mrs. Maggie Hall,
who had a beautiful child about ten
months of age, which she declared was
her own. Tho woman had also a photo¬
graph of Charlie Rsss. A correspondent
called, and Mrs. Shulton said:
“Ever since I was sixteen years of age
I have had a desire to have children
about me. Some time ago I answered
an advertisement of a mother who want¬
ed some one to adopt her baby. I an¬
swered the notice, and Mrs. Maggie
Hall called at my house with the child.
At a glance I could see that tho rongh-
faced woman was not the mother of the
pretty child, and I told her so. She de¬
nied my story and said I was mistaken.
I felt satisfied that the child was stolen,
and said that I would not take the child
until she brought proofs of the child's
parentage. After I said that she showed
me a picture of a little boy, about four
years of age, who, sho said, was the
missing Charlie Ross. After that I was
certain that the child wa3 stolen, and I
then published the letter.” The woman
whom Mrs. Shulton speaks of as Mrs.
Hall, cannot be found. It is thought
that a company travel about stealing
children in one city, and dispose of them
at the next place they stop.
A Trimmer.
Judge Key, while iu Washington, told
a story of a political trimmer in one of
the back counties of Tennessee which
might find its parallel in a broader field
of politics. The county where the inci¬
dent occurred was very much agitated
over the question of a school tax. This
trimmer was running for some office.
Ho had never been known to give a de¬
cided opinion upon any political issue.
One night when he was making a speech
the crowd refused to let him talk any
longer unless he would give his views
upon the subject of the school tax.
“Are you for it, or are you against it ?”
shouted the crowd. The orator, pressed
for a reply, said: “You have a right to
ask for an answer. I have no conceal¬
ments to make. To you I say in all
frankness, if it is a good thing I am for
for it, and if it is a bad thing I am agin
it.”
THE STORY OF A SOLDIER
HOW IIK WAS TREATED WHILE
SEBVING HIS COUNTRY.
Taken Prisoner, lie Makes a List of Prls-
oners anil is Punished (or It.
A correspondent in the Graphic, de¬
scribing the services of Clara Barton,
alludes to her work iu numbering the
graves of the Union dead at Anderson-
ville, and also to a young soldier .who
assisted. Our correspondent does not
recall the name and speaks of him as a
Connecticut soldier. An interesting
story is connected with this mention.
The young man was a Vermonter, by
name Dorrance Atwater, now United
States Consul at Tahiti. Mr. Atwater
•vas a drug clerk when he entered the
Union Army. He was captured at Win¬
chester, Va., in 18G3, and sent to Auder-
sonville. There he was placed in the
drug room of the hospital. On the day
of his capture he had received news of
his father’s death. Feeling keenly in
this sorrow the anxiety of his mother,
Avho might not know of her son’s fate,
he was led to conceive the idea of pre¬
serving in some way a copy of the death
roll, to the making of which he was de¬
tailed. At daily risk of his life he made
this copy, concealing the coarse brown
sheets whereon it was written about his
person. Thirteen thousand names, with
regiments, etc., were thus obtained,
Atwater desired to publish them so that
the families might at least know of their
members’ fate. When exchanged he
was also mustered cut. Arrived in
Washington, he desired the government
to have all the benefit of his work, but
he also wished to publish it. He was
induced to re-enlist .iu the general ser¬
vice as a clerk, with the understanding,
as he believed, that when copies were
made his originals should be returned.
His work was of great pecuniary value,
as it peifected records and enabled the
government to properly settle claims,
e tc. Mr. Atwater found that the official
mind (and that being military also, it
as more soirog-ks.) than commonly overbearing
h. T repudMed the
and declared that tlje proposed publica¬
tion would be injurious. The government
copy was made. Miss Barton, who had,
in the Sanitary Commission Service, or¬
ganized a bureau for tracing missing
soldiers, was requested by Mr. Stanton
to go to Andersonville with a quarter¬
master and escort and assist in marking
the graves of the dead. Mr. Atwater
was also sent, having charge of his orig¬
inal rolls. The work was done. Mr.
Atwater believed these rolls were his
property, and in some way conveyed
them to the New York Tribune office
for publication. On his return to Wash¬
ington he was arrested at the instigation
of an officer named Breck, tried by
court-martial, and sentenced as a thief
to one year’s imprisonment at hard
labor in the Albany Penitentiary. Great
indignities were heaped upon him.
Wirz’s trial was in progress and Atwater
was mobbed on the streets while passing
under guard, the returned soldiers being
told that he was trying to save the An-
dersouville keeper. He went to prison
and served six months of his sentence,
while Miss Barton kept up a constant
struggle iu his behalf. She got a reso¬
lution of investigation before Congress,
and then the Judge Advocate-General
reviewed the sentence, declaring it to
be illegal, as the larcenous motive was
wanting, the young man having fully
believed that the rolls were his own
property. In the meanwhile the Trib¬
une had published them. Mr. Atwater
was at once released, and soon after ap¬
pointed United States Consul at Zanzi¬
bar, Africa. He has been iu the Con¬
sular service ever since.
Tiie British Navy.
The British Admiralty are going to
build during the forthcoming year four
first class ironclads, two torpedo rams of
3,000 tons each, ten scouts of 1,400 or
1,500 tons, thirty first class torpedo
boats and five belted cruisers. These
latter—a new class of ship—will have
armor belts of ten inches of steel with
which their vitals will be protected.
They will have a displacement of 5.000
tons, and the weight of their armor will
be 1,000 tons. Their water-line will be
protected by side armor from end to end.
Each will bo armed with torpedoes and
some of her guns will bo fired from a
protected house. The ship itself will
also be capable of being directed as a
ram. Each will carry two eighteen-ton
guns and twelve four-ton guns and her
speed will be seventeen knots. With
these additions to her navy, England
still expects to hold her own against the
other Naval Powers. The cost of the
new vessels will be £3,100,000.
“now can we utilize tin scraps?”
asks an exchange. If you have come
lown to taking tin scraps in payment
for subscriptions, you had better buy a
goat.
HOW TO MAKE BREAD.
A Few Practical TIihiikIiIh on too Subject
by a Housekeeper.
I was taught to make bread many
years ago, by a grandmother who was a
lady of the olden time. A life of hap¬
piness, and, much of the time, of pros-
perity, so filled my days that my bread
knowledge was not called in question for
many years, except to name the faults I
would find with it if we made a change
of cooks and the texture varied. At last
a change came for me in life, and to help
keep our home I received a few young
ladies into it for educational purposes.
With a good deal of the practical about
me, I soon decided that those girls
should have added to their studies as
much of a knowledge of cooking as I
could crowd in without too great a pres¬
sure. The first step was bread-making,
and from January 1, until they went
homo in June they made all the bread
We used, eaoh taking a week. There
were four of them, and every morning
during those months wo had, as had al¬
ways been a habit, warm rolls on the
table as well as cold bread. I cannot
recall the loss of one batch of bread
from any cause, or poor bread during
that time. Previous to this time I had
taken some charge of the bread myself,
as it seemed wise to train less expensive
servants than we formerly employed.
This gave me fresh experience. It was
our never-failing hot homemade rolls
that inspired the girls with a desire to
excel in that line, and the work was vol¬
untary with them, not required. Soon,
however, there was a strife as to which
did excel. I always was sure what the
remit would be, because rules acquired
by observations were held to. The
average heat of a kitchen during hours
when a good fire is in use can be learned.
Compressed yeast is far quicker in its.
effects than old-fashioned yeast, and as
that was used we could count accurately
upon results. About five p. m. a sponge
was set with two quarts of all milk, or
half milk and half water, as the case
might be, Flour was sifted in a deep
bowl, the milk lukewarm, in a little of
the hot water peas molted tutablespocjii.
ful of butter, a small tablespoonful of
sugar, an even teaspoonful of salt. In
the centre of the sifted flour this was
stirred until enough was wet for a
sponge. The yeast added, two hours
later the sponge was light and the bread
kneaded, a work of but a few moments.
I always sat by the table to suggest
from time to time. Just before retiring,
after an hour or more with studies, say
nine p. m., two small pans, holding
eight or ten rolls each, were buttered
and filled. The rolls made less than
half the size wished when baked, to
allow for rising, and consequently
placed some distance apart. These pans
were placed in the ice chest, or in the
store room if freezing weather. The
cook merely had to take them to the
kitchen in the morning, and while her
oven was heating the warmth of the
kitchen would soon bring the rolls to
the exact condition for baking. The re¬
maining dough was kept on ice, or be¬
low freezing-point, and used for a night
or two. Bread once iight cannot be
made heavy or injured by cold, neither
need it be sour. I never used an atom
of soda to sweeten sour bread. These
ideas are given for winter use. Spring
and summer heat required a change of
hours. I have never failed in securing
good bread from servants, but I do
make it a rule to give personal attention
to it for a month, and the habits thus
formed remain. I don’t mean by this
that I make it, for I do not, but I sit
by and have all done carefully. Now
about the oven, as the best bread can
be spoiled there: It must be a habit to
brash out all the places where ashes
can collect at least once a week. An
ordinary sized loaf of bread requires
about an hour to bake, Coal never
should be heaped to the lids, an
oven <Toes not heat as well; evenly
filled as high as the fire-brick is enough;
dampers adjusted, time watched, and
rolls are ready in twenty minutes; bread
from an hour to an hour and a half, de¬
pending on the quickness of the oven.
No machine need be invented to tak«
the place of common sense, and that,
in full exercise with a person who is
methodical,,solves the problem. Your
bread under such culture will run as
regularly as your clock, providing that
these conditions are in force.
At Home. —According to the London
Vanity Fair, “A remarkable sight is
to be seen at Aberdeenshire. In a large
luck pq^l adjoining the stable square
hundreds of wild cluck disport them¬
selves in perfect security. They are not
tame wild ducks, but bona fide wild ducks
—w’ild wherever they go, yet tame the
moment they settle in the pond, 'ihey
swim up to be fed within a few feet of
::i;y one, evincing no fear. Outside the
precincts of their pord they are as wild
as the wildest wild duck can possi¬
bly ire.”
NUMBER 26.
STRAY ODDS AND ENDS
A nATCH Or JOKES FROM THE HU¬
MOROUS COLUMNS OF THE PAPERS.
ABl«Hlieep—now It was Pronounced—Not
Faie‘.:iar with the NaniO—The Editor**
Ruse—The Wedding Gilts, Etc.
THE WEDDING GIFTS,
Fond Father—“See here, my daugh¬
ter, this will never do. You must not
invite those young ladies to your wed¬
ding.”
Daughter—“And why not, pa? They
are particular friends of mine. Thera
can certainly be no objection to them
socially. Their father is a bank pres¬
ident.”
“Exactly so, my child, and that’s just
Why they must not come. His bank is
tbe only-one I have an account with,
aud they might tell their father about
that $100,000 check which I am to give
you to display among your wedding
presents.”
“But suppose they do, pa?”
“Can’t you see? He knows I never
had $500 there at one time in my life.”
—Philadelphia Call.
REPARTEE-
They were lunching, one day ;
In a handsome cafe,
And she happened to say,
As sho noticed the way
That lie and ice-cream were in unity. ?”
“Can you eat made ice-cream the reply, with impunity
And he
With a while of the eye,
“No, but I can with a spoon."
But her triumph camo soon;
As *hsy left tho saloon,
He gave her a good opportunity;
“And now Bessie, dear,
As the weather is clear,
Can you take a walk with impunity T"
Her smile was as bright as the moon,
And deliciously shy
Camo the mocking reply,
“No, hut I cau with a spoon.”
B iiiN Wood Davis.
DIDN’ T UNDERSTAND.
On an Arkansas railway train, a pas¬
senger calls the conductor and says;
“Seems to take some time.” “Yes,
they are rather slow to-night.” “Why
don’t you burn coal so you wouldn’t have
to stop and wood up?” “We do burn
coal.” “Then what are you stopping
here for?”, “Oh, I didn’t ULlerstand
you when' you said ft took ’em|Ome
time. We are waiting for the train
bers to blow open the express safe.
Don’t bo in a hurry, they’ll be through
pretty soon. Ah, here they come now.
Better hold up your hands, I reckon.”—
Arkansaw Traveler.
NOT TO BE MADE KNOWN.
Young Husband (complainingly) — I
Wish we could find a cook who can
make pumpkin pie such as my mother
used to make.
Fashionable Young Wife (with sur¬
prise)—Did your mother go into the
kitchen and make pie ?
Young Husband—Yes, and mighty
good pie it was, too.
Fashionable Young Wife—Well, I
hope you won’t say anything about it
in the presence of the servants.
HE WAS A SHEEP,
An Austin Sunday-school teacher en¬
deavored to make his pupils under¬
stand tho parable about the good shep¬
herd. He said :
“Now, little children, suppose you
were all little sheep, what would 1
be?”
He expected them to say that he
would be the good shepherd, but much
to his disgust one of them replied :
“If wo wore little sheep you would be
a big sheep,” whereupon the teachei
looked very sheepish, indeed. He did
not want to be looked upon as a big
sheep —iS 'iftings.
THE EDITOR o -.onn.
“Met with an accident?” said a sub¬
scriber who was two or three years in
arrears, as he entered tb.o sanctum of a
rural editor. “I see your face is bruised
and you have got a black eye.” “Well,”
said tho editor, with a sigh, as he arose
and began to roll up his sleeves, “de¬
linquent subscribers must be made to
pay up somehow, but I sometimes come
out second best, as you see.” “Ha!”
laughed the visitor as he took cut his
wallet, “I just dropped in to pay
my bill.” And the editor chuckled
softly to himself after the visitor’s de¬
parture: “Life is full of compensations.
Falling over that wood-box was a bless¬
ing to me .”—Boston Courier.
ONE WAY TO REMEDY IT.
“Mv, friends,” went on the temper¬
ance lecturer, “do you realize when
spending your money for whisky how
little original value you get for it? Do
you know that you pay ten or fifteen
cents for what costs the producer less
than one-sixth of a cent ?”
A look of horror swept over the faces
of the audience.
“Now,” he went on excitedly, “I ask
you as sensible and responsible beings,
as men upon whom the support of
wives and little children depends, what
ought to be done?”
“The tax ought to be abolished,” was
tho indignant cry.