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VOL. 1.
WHY IS THE WORLD SO SAD?
“Why is the king so sad, father, why is tho
king so sad? blessed;
More than his sire the kina is
The times are fair and the laud of, rest,
With the little prince on the queen’s fair
breast. sad?”
Why is the king so
He put the womap he loved aside;
He steeled his heart when his truo love
cried,
And took a princess to be his bride,
And so the king is sad.
“Why is the rich man sad, tuther, why is tho
rich man sad?
Fuir on the Hills his turrets glow.
Broad Is the manor spread below;
Hamers and wine-vats overflow.
Now, why is he so sad?!’
His truth for a lordly price he sold;
He gave his honor for yellow gold;
It’s oh for the peace he knew of oid
And therefore he is sad.
“Why is the poor mau sad, father,why is the
poor mui) sad?
Health and freedom and love has he,
A vine-clad cottage beyond the lea.
Where children clamber about ids knee,
Yet why is he so sad?”
He thought of the rich man’s wealth and
He fame;
looked on his humble lot with shame;
Into his life back envy came.
And therefore he is sad.
“Why is the priest so sad, father, why is the
Little priest so sad?
he knows of worldly care;
His place is found in the house of prayer,
And honor and peace attend him there.
He marks Why is the priest so sad?”
meek; how the proud ones spoil the
His heart is hot, but his spirit weak,
And the words that he would he dare not
speak,
And so th'e priest is sad.
“Why is the world so sad, father, why is the
world so sad?
Every day is a glory sent,
Sunshine, beauty and music blent,
Fresh from the gracious firmament,
Then why is the world so sad?”
Alas for the evil ever done!
Alas for the good deed not begun!
Alas for our blindness every one!
By this the world is sad.
—Robert Clarkson Tongue.
©
0 Heads or Tails .]
Mane, I began awkwardly, for I
had never proposed before, “you must
know you must have seen for a long
time that -that—I love you. ’
Marie said nothing, but sat looking
down at her hands,.which were twist-
ing a bit of lace that she called a
handkerchief. She was smiling before
I began. She now looked distressed.
I do not like for Marie to look dis-
tressed, for she then looks a3 if she
were going to cry. And a crying
woman is not pretty. So for the
minute I laid aside my own affair to
comfort Marie.
i 6 Marie,” I began, venturing with
much trepidation to lay my hand
softly upon both of hers, “what’s the
matter?”
She looked up. Her lips were
quivering and a tear, balanced for the
start, stood in her eye.
“I don’t know what to do,” she
whispered, brokenly.
“Well?” I said, inquiringly, invit¬
ing her to continue.
She hesitated nervously for several
seconds. Then she went on, almost
inaudibly—
“You see, Mr. Transome told me
last night what you told me just
now. ”
“Confound Trausome!” I said to
myself; and to Marie—“Well, Philip
Transome i^ a fine fellow, you know.”
“Of course,” said Marie, acquiesc¬
ing a little too readily, I thought.
“And lie’s good looking.”
“Yes.”
“And rich.”
“Yes.”
This itemizing a rival’s good points
to comfort the woman you love is
rather straining ou one’s* generosity.
It isn’t so bad if fit# woman rewards
your generosity, iyf as of course she
should, But Marie didn’t. Ho I
stopped.
“Well, where’s the trouble, then?”
I asked at length.
plied, “I doy't know what to do,” she re¬
repeating her formal wail.
I began to see. It is bard to decide
between two lovers, I could
sympathize with Marie, for I had once
been in a similar predicament my¬
self.
“You don’t know which of us to
take?” I suggested, after a minute
or two of silence, attempting to put
some sympathy into my voice.
“l r on like don’t you?” I
me, ven-
tnred with some fear in my heart.
Marie nodded. I felt very com-
placent.
“And you like Philip Transome?”
I continued.
She nodded a second time. I believe
I swore at Transome.
THE H W C z
“Don't Give TJjp tlxo SlAiip.”
BUCHANAN, GA„ FRIDAY, MARCH 25. 1898.
“But, you can’t decide between us.
Is tlut it. ”
“That's it,” acknowledged Marie,
weakly. hare , tried way?”
“You every
blusied, “Ijliave, but and it I can’t”—here blush I did Marie not
was a
like, because it was for Trausome as
it wts for me—“and I catk’f tell which
of you I like the better.”
Tie person who sits in the seat of
the nndecided sits not easily. This I
kuev. And any decision is better
that} no decision. This also I knew.
Ho out of the sympathy which I had
for Marie I made up my mind to help
her arrive at some decision, even
though if I could help it,
I thought for a Jong time, but noth¬
ing came. Then I looked up at Marie.
Her eyes were fixed expectantly on
me, as though she bad instinctively
learned of my intention to help her
anti was awaiting my plan.
“Well,” said I, seizing on an idea
that just then popped into my head,
“since you have tried all other ways,
suppose you toss up for us.”
“What!” exclaimed Marie, half
starting from her chair.
“Toss up for us,” J. repeated
calmly. chair
Marie sank back in her and
gaze I at me in amazement.
Marie’s surprise to my suggestion
angered me somewhat. Of course,
I can understand that choosing a hus¬
band in such a way may seem a little
queer to some girls. But they needn’t
act as though it were so unusual.
Besides, there are worse ways.
“Toss up for you!” Marie managed
to gasp out at length.
“Certainly,” I replied, with some
asperity. ‘ ‘Have you anything better
to suggest?”
A reluctant “No” came from Maria.
“You’d better toss up, then,” I
said, decisively, drawing a quarter
from one of my pockets and offering
it to her.
blie -took it itiiil ai it for a
long time. I began to grow impatient,
for the coin was like any other of its
kind, and I ooxtld see no reason why
she should study it. Then I saw that
] iei . look was the look of one who is
thinking. Suddenly she raised liei'
head and gazed steadily at me. And
then a smile that I liked strangely
well slowly came into her eves,
“No, you do it,” she said, return¬
i n tv the coin, ‘I don’t know how.”
\y e both stood up. ’ “Heads it is
Transome; tails it is I?” I suggested
briefly,
Marie nodded,
j balanced the'* coin on my first
finger. I was sure of the result, for
the man never lived who is as lucky
as j am. I even began to pity poor
Transome. But before this feeling
had much ouportunity to grow I
flipped tlie quarter whirling into the
air, and, as it struck the floor, placed
my foot upon it.
I looked at Marie. “Which shall it
be?” I asked softly.
“You,” she whispered.
I slipped my foot aside and we both
stooped. The laurel wreathed head
of Liberty was up. ’
It was Transome!
We both straightened up. I looked
at Marie and Marie lofiked at me.
Hlie was pale and I could not have
been otherwise. I had risked all on
the turn of a coin—and it had turned
the wrong way. Without a word, for
I was not wise in the ways of women,
I walked out of the room, secured my
hat in tlie hall, and started to open
the door and go out into the street.
As my hand was turning the knob
something touched my arm. I
turned and looked around.
There stood Marie with a little smile
—a little beseeching smile—on her
face.
“Dick”—this time the smile was
still more beseeching—“can’t you see?
It’s—it’s you, anyhow.”
I saw, and tny hand left the door
knob. And in the little excitement
that followed I also may have kissed
Marie. Such things have happened.
—New Orleans Times-Democrat.
Ever Thus.
Stutterly — M-M-i-ss D-a-a-tely —
G-g-g-race, aw, I-I-I w-won’t you b-ee
m-m-my— Dately (shyly)—What did
Miss you
[jay, Stutterly—W-w-w-on’t Mr. Stutterly? be-e-e
v-you
fliy wu-wu-wu-wife, I-I-I-I-I s s-s-s-s-
ajid. Miss Dately—Oh, George, this is
so
sudden!—Cincinnati Commercial Trib¬
une. ,
If we move our legs proportionately
as fast as an ant, it is calculated we
could travel nearly eight hundred
miles an hour.
SNAKES IN COSTA RICA.
Tlie Culebra do Sani£V« tho Most Deadly
of Them All.
Costa Rica means the Rich Coast,
and in most resjtects it is rich, parti-
cularly in the snake family, the most
deadly of which is the terrible Culebra
de Sangre (dr blood snake).
Tliis variety of reptile does not
grow to a large size, and perhaps for
that very reason is most to be
dreaded, as it is not so easily seen. It
is red, and resembles a large, swollen
vein, ready to burst with blood.
A short time ago I stepped on one
of these snakes, and like a flash he
struck at me, but as I had a pair of
leather leggius no harm was done,
though it was a close call. Not 80
fortunate was a poor day laborer who
was bitten by the same variety of
snake. The man was working for a
neighbor of mine, and I did not see
him until the day after he was bitten.
The moment I heard about it I went
over to see the poor felloxv, taking
with me a remedy for snake bite,
thinking it would do no harm to try
it, anyway. “When we reached the
men’s camp the sight that met our
eyes wa„ a sickening one.
The man. was bleeding from his
nose, month and ears, also from his
finger and toe nails. How a man
could bleed as much as he had, and
still live, xvas a marvel. He had been
bitten in the foot; only one fang of
tlie serpent had entered the flesh,
The manager of the estate had given
him seveial doses of curarine a medi-
cine made in Colombiaand much used
here in Central America for poisonous
bites. \Y e also gave him the medicine
which I had brought with me, which
made liim vomit profusely.
In a few hours time the bleeding _
stopped, and next day the poor fellow
was sent m the hospital. No one ex-
pected that he would live, as the bite
is considered deadly; but strange to
say lie did recover, and in a month s
time was ut work once move. If both
fangs of the snake had entered tlie
foot instead on one, he would un¬
doubtedly have died. I have known
a horse to die in a few hours after
being bitten by one of tlie snakes. In
tlie 2->ast three years two men in my
district have died from snakebife, and
in hunting in this country one must
always keep a sharp lookout for
snakes.—Forest and Stream.
Agriculture and Forest Reservation.
As the result of a personal inspec¬
tion of a considerable portion of the
Sierra forest reserve of California, I
am fully convinced that the preserva¬
tion and development of the agricul¬
tural interests of the great wheat and
fruit districts west of the range de¬
pend largely upon the preservation and
increase of the forest covering of the
region whose drainage is tributary to
the agricultural areas. The same is
true of the Los Angeles and St. Ber¬
nardino areas of tlie southwestern por¬
tion of the state. Where tlie forest
and brush have been removed, either
by fire, cutting, or pasturage, the
slopes are dry and dusty, the water
flows off almost as rapidly as it falls,
and carries along with it a load of
sand and gravel to be deposited in
the irrigation ditches and over the
fields of tlie lowlands.
A comparison of such a denuded
area with an adjoining forested or
brush-covered district shows at once
that the forest covering must be pre¬
served if the water supply is to be
stored by natural means for irrigation.
—Appletons’Popular Hcieuce Monthly,
A Banquet for the Dead.
A unique banquet xvas held in
Ligonier, Ind. The participants were
members of the Anti-Smelling society,
■which had its inception about twenty
years ago, when twelve young men
bound themselves into this body,
whose object is only known by its
members. On the night of January
.11 of each year, according to their
rules, the surviving members must
banquet the dead members, and plates
are laid for the dead ones. .This cus¬
tom must be continued until but one
member lives, when he must banquet
all the dead members. A loving cup,
with each member’s name inscribed
thereon, goes to the member who last
survives. Tlie society is the only one
of its kind in America. There are
about ten members still living.
Tlie Decorative Craze.
“Does your wife do much fancy
work?”
“Fancy work? She won’t even let a
porous plaster come into the house
without orocheNiig yellow a red scollop round
it and running ribbon through
the holes.”—Puck-
RAPIDITY IN WRITING.
Interest I Tost to Determine Number of
Words Written by One Dip of Pen.
Seeking for information, certain
questions were asked of an expert
whose profit lies, as a manufacturer,
in producing one of the most popular
self-feeding pens on the market. This
authority said that “a dip of ink ought
to write 100 words. That in an hour
about 30 drops of ink were used, and
that in the sixty minutes the pen trav-
eled some eighth of a mile. It all de-
pended ou the idiosyncrasy of the
writer^.”
In order to test this a number of
“habitual and hardened” scribes were
asketl to take one dip only of ink, and
they were to work off their copy in
their usual elegant or slovenly manner.
\ s f ar as averages ° went,the result was
disheartening. One dip* man wrote 141
wor q s w i tk the one and another
J a -gh t be characters of the 144-
W( r d man were very much more legi-
pj e tkan those of the 14-word man.
There was a lady_a graceful contrib-
utoi . to journalism_and in her Italian
hand she wrote eight words to the dip,
„ 1H i t i.„ f„ s c pr =be nroduced couv the
les8 words she wrote to the single dip.
jq j s measurement of the writ-
big __ one-eiglitli of a mile to the hour _
w bieh is curious, there' and to think it pos-
s qq e that may be industrious
scr ibes who write every day of their
]i ves more than a mile of copy! We
-wheel faster, we cover a mile in a
trotting sulky more speedily, or we
play a finer game of billiards now
than ever,because the machines,or tlie
track, or the table and the balls are
better constructed. With improved
pens, ink, inkstand and paper do we
write any more speedily than in the
3 iq ell time? The probability is that
we are faster in our writing, the me-
-banical impediments having been
diminished; yet tho penman, with the
typewriter, never kept pace with the
rapidity of his thoughts.—New York
rimes
How Lapidaries Polisli Gems.
The first thing necessary in polish¬
ing a precious stone is to slit it; this
is done says the Philadelphia Times,
by means of a thin sheet-iron disk,
placed in a horizontal position and
made to revolve by very simple ma¬
chinery. Diamond dust is applied to
the edge of the disk, and sperm oil is
dropped upon it from a can.
If properly managed a very small
quantity of diamond dust will last all
day, and not much of it will be lost.
In order to prevent appreciable loss,a
table with a raised edge all around it
is provided. The diamond dust used
in polishing stones is made from lltrt,
or cheap, coarse diamonds.
After being slit the stone is ground
on horizontal wheels of lead, brass or
iron, and sometimes of wood. These
wheels are called “laps,” and the
workman who cuts and polishes stones
is a lapidary, from the Latan word
lapidarius. Lapidaries acquire great
facility in sharpening and pal polishing
stones, and from a’ given tern are
able to produce any object required
with great dexterity. Diamond,
emery, agate or corundum powder is
spread on the laps; gradually the
powder becomes imbedded in the laps
and the stones yields to them.
The stone is held either with the
fingers or by wax in tbe hollow at the
end of a stick, and is pressed against
the revolving laps. For tlie last polish
the laps are covered with cloth, leather
or hard brushes The facets, or flat
surfaces that give brilliancy to tran¬
sparent stones, are cut by means of.,a,
horizontal grinding wheel, by the side
of which is placed an upright, club-like
piece of wood. Into this heavy piece
of wood, in different places, a rod is
stuck, at one end of wlt^pli the the wheel stone
is fixed with cement,
revolves the stone is prP^.ied against
it and a facet is cut; to make a new
facet, the rod holding the stone is
simply stuck in another hole in the
club-like piece of wood and is thus
given a new inclination or angle.
Another Flying Machine.
Major R. F. Moore, an English
army officer, is experimenting with a
flying machine, or, at least, with a
model constructed mi a somewhat
novel principle, He discards the
broad plane and comes back to the
wing. He has taken for his pattern
the flying fox of India—a large species
of bat—and reproduces the pectoral
muscles by spiral springs strong
enough to keep the wings extended,
the up and down motion to be accom¬
plished by some suitable motor. Two
or more pairs of wings of moderate
size he finds to be preferable to one
large pair.
NO. 16,
NOTABLE FIRES.
Those in the United States Have Proved
tlie l.rust Serious.
The lifrgest fire of the year 181)7
was what has come to be known as
the Aldersgate street fire in London,
the damage from which, variously
estimated at first, has been put ofii-
cially at Hid,000,000. Ten-million-
dollar fires are verv rare nowadays in
countries equipped, however imper-
fectly, with apparatus for the extin-
guishment of fires, and in the United
States conflagrations of such dimen-
sions are practically unknown. In
former times,however, such fires were
not so rare, and wliat is known as
“the great New York fire” of 1835
involved a pecuniary loss of 830,000,-
000, which represents, of course, a
much larger amount, relatively, than
would such a fire today, the pui;chas-
Eig powers of money being probably
greater at that time, and, moreover,
the system of insurance being such
that Ey tlie failure of a large number
°f companies the insured were practi-
cally left without any compensation
for the losses which they sustained,
The number of buildings burned in
the great New York fire, which started
l 11 " hat was then known as Merchant
street, in the Wall street district, was
TOO. and ^ was uot the firemen who
put a stop to it, but the United Htates
sailors who came over from tke navy
yard and blew up a number of btiild-
i n f? s -
The Chicago fire of 1871 entailed a
loss of §190,000,000 and covered an
area of more than 2000 acres, con¬
suming 17,000 buildings. The Boston
fire, which occurred little more than
one year later, entailed a loss of 880,-
000,000, and destroyed 800 buildings,
but these were of a much more sub¬
stantial character than those burned
in Chicago. Only about 20 per cent,
of the Chicago fire losses were paid,
but more than 60 per cent, of the Bos¬
ton losses were met by insurance.
The aggregate losses in New l'ork
city from fires of all kinds occurring
during the year, are now about $3,-
500,000, and in any recent year they
have been so large as 87,000,000.
The nearest approach to that was in
1891 when they were 86,900,000, the
largest item of which was supplied by
what was known as the Bleecker
street fire at the corner of Greene and
Bleecker streets ou St. Patrick’s day,
the loss from which was $1,466,000.
The largest and most serious fire of
which there is authentic record in
Germany was in Hamburg in 1842,
the loss resulting from it being $35,-
000,000. The “great fire” of London’
took place in 1666, and consumed
aljout two-thirds of tlie city, but there
has never been any very accurate com¬
putation of the loss, and perhaps no
su li computation was possible. There
have been many serious fires in
France, but no one of them large
enough to take rank in respect to loss
among the notable fires of which there
is a record.—New York Hun.
Mixed Maxims.
A man is known by the trumpery he
keeps.
Never put a gift cigar in your
mouth.
The lack of money is the root of all
evil.
Where wisdom is bliss ’tis folly to be
ignorant. saved nine.
A pitch in time the
Chain lip a child and away he will
go.
Virtue is its only reward,
A bird in the hand lays no eggs.
All that a man hath will lie give tc
his wife.
Many hands like light work.
Tlie rolling stone catches the worm.
ij|culation is the thief of time.
JFthirsty man will catch at u straw.
Straws show which way the gin
goes. about in
“Heaven lies us our in¬
fancy,” and this world lies about us
when we are grown up.
It is not good for man to give a
loan.
The wages of sin is debt.
Every dogma must have its day.—
Carolyn Wells in the Chap-Book.
I.unary in London.
The report of the asylums commit¬
tee of the London county council
shows there has been an alarming in¬
crease in lunacy during tlie last nine
years, especially in London. While
the population of London is 14.59 of
the inhabitants of England, London’s
proportion of insane persons is 19.87.
Dulwich, now a populous district of
London, still has a tollgate across one
of its main streets, at which tolls are
collected regularly.