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VOL. 1.
DREAMLAND.
There’s a mystical land that we fight in the
night, darkness, aloof from the
Quite close to the
light, the facts
A. land where impossible things are
In a pageant of good or of impious nets—
A realm where the loveliest scene slips
away, thought is forbidden to
And a deed or a
realm” sta y
A of illusion, with nothing that
seems—
The wonderful sleep-bordered country of
dreams.
—William Hamilton Ilayne.
•
fill fin UrilSUC rirtictin t/IlQlHU. Fnrfinn f
•
* >
BY C. II. COLVILLE.
*
The sun shone under her straw hat
and made her shade her eyes with her
hands as she lookedupat me, standing
by the edge of the river.
“Now, Mr. Conway,” she said, “are
you quite sure you can manage a
canoe?”
“I’ll promise you anew frock, Miss
Delia, if 1 upset you,” said I gallant-
iy.
“Don’t be rash,’’she laughed; “per¬
haps I’ll think a new frock well worth
the wetting.”
“I said—if I upset you,” I replied;
“if you upset yourself I cry off the
bargain.”
. t I’m sure you’ll never be so mean
as to argue the cause of the damage,”
said Delia; “anyway, I’ll risk it.”
“I feel a little afraid,” she said, as
I gave her my hand to help her
aboard.
I am inclined to think, however,that
her hesitation was not altogether due
to nervousness, but was a little in¬
fluenced by the fact that she bad the
prettiest lijtle feet in the world, and
was wearing the very daintiest of
brown shoes, which showed to the
best advantage as she stood in timid
uncertainty, one foot on shore and one
poised over the canoe. I confess the
attitude was fascinating to me, more
especially as is necessitated a very dis¬
tinct pressure of my steadying hand.
I was the more convinced that the
timidity was affected when she even¬
tually settled herself among the cush¬
ions in the bows of tbe canoe, for all
the world as if to the manner born.
Indeed, as I stepped warily in the
centre o( the craft, I am sure 1 was
really the more nervous of the two,
but then I could judge of my short¬
comings as a canoeist far better than
she.
“Now then,” I said, “are you quite
sure you are comfortable?”
She gave a last smooth to the folds
of her brown skirt, gave a little pat
to the sleeves of her white blouse,and
lay back against the red cushions with
a sigh of content.
> “Yes,’’she said sweetly; “I’mquite
ready. ”
I let go the tuft of grass to which I
had been clinging, pushed off gently
with my paddle, and we were fairly
afloat.
The sunshine sparkled on the water,
the leaves of the trees waved ever so
softly in the breeze, the bright-colored
dragon flies darted hither and thither,
while along the bank the bees flew
languidly from flower to flower, as if
they only kept themselves awake by
incessant buzzing.
“Isn’t it delightful?” murmured
Delia.
“It is, indeed,” I assented, but
would have done so more truthfully
if the bows of the canoe bad not clis-
played so great a reluctance to keep
straight up the river.
The splash of tbe water from tbe pad¬
dle was wonderfully smoothing,and my
fair companion closed her eyes. Directly
she did so politeness no longer debar¬
red me from gazing my fill at her up¬
turned face.
I looked admiringly, taking mental
stock of her charms. How softly her
dark eyelashes swept her cheek—how
coquettishly curved her mouth —how
dainty the suspicion of a dimple either
side her lips—how delicately turned
her chin—how becoming the red cush¬
ion to her wealth of blaek hair—yes,
undoudtedly her uose was retrousse,
but a fig for your stately Greek beau¬
ties! there is a fascination in the—
crash into tbe bank went tbe bow of
the canoe, and the subject of my re¬
verie opened her eyes with a start.
For the life of me I cannot steer a
canoe and think of something else at
the same time. By the greatest good
luck we were not upset.
“I am most awfully sorry,” I stam¬
mered.
“I was nearly asleep,” she said.
“I can’t think what happened; it
was dreadfully careless of me.”
THE TRIBUNE.
“Don't Give Up tlio Sliip. 5
BUCHANAN. GA„ FRIDAY, JUNE:}. 1808
“Oh, it really doesn’t matter,” she
replied with a great good n.itine.
I paddled clear of the bank and
vowed such a collision should not
occur again Delia, however, made
uo further attempt to go to sleep.
“How smoothly the river runs,
she said thoughtinHy.
L alike the course ol true love, I
added rather weakly.
It was not a very apposite leniark,
but then I knew the topic of love was
a dangerous one for me, and so, fool-
hardy, I courted it, as the moth the
candle.
The . t
!f TV P a use /“
^ u l0 “* While I successfully , 1 negotiated a
sudden bend in the river.
It s a gieat pity, isn t it. said
Delia.
“What is?” I inquired.
( i Why, that the course of true love
never runs smooth.”
“Oh,but it does sometimes,really,”
j j I I asserted.
“I suppose the love isn’t really true,
then,” said she. 4 i Nowadays, books
and plays nearly always end nn-
happily.’ said philosophically,
“Oh, well,” I,
“there are two sorts of love —there is
a passionate love,full of presentiment,
which makes a man morbid and
melancholy,and forces him a thousand
times to curse the fate that brings it
to him, but this soit ot loie is too
lolty fora workaday world, and the
only artistic ending is a tragic one.
l am afraid I bore Delia now and
again by holding forth in this way,
but she only gave the politest possible
yawn, as she said. And what about
the other?
“The other,” I went on, taking care
to watch the course of the canoe, “is
a tender, pastoral love, which makes
a man cheerful and take rosy views of
... life,causing ........ him to thank heaven every
day that such a love has fallen to Ins
lot, and the artistic ending is wedding
bells and domestic happiness.”
“Dear me, Mr.Conway,’’said Delia,
smiling, “you seem to know a deal
about it. ”
. sweetest gray-brown
Delia has the
eyes, and it is an extraordinary pleas-
ure to look right into them, longer
than is actually neeessaiy v\ line listen-
ing to or making a remark; only speak-
ing of artistic endings made me teel
quite certain there was a mote artistic
euduig to such a look than mutu-
a !y o drop oui eyes.
i .was just t unking about this, and
now very giace u some git Is look m
a caiioe, vvhen, like a too , L et my
paddle catch in a weed. I endeavored
as gently as possible to extricate it,
j but lie weed proved o stinate. Delia
grewnervous and sat up in the canoe,
Oli, please be careful, Mr. Con-
vvaj, s e ciici .
I pulled a trifle harder, but to
purpose. I ion I los patience. I
gave the paddle a sharp jerk, the weed
gave way all .. oo sudden ill y. tv De r la
gave a little scream and 1 clutched
wild y a be side ot the canoe m a
vam attempt to keep my ba a nee.
* * It vvas all over in a in omen ,
and when I say alt J. include Helm,
myse t and the canoe. Fortunately
we were close to the bank and the
water was shallow. I scrambled ashore
and he pet De.ia on to tiy am as
best I could.
unutterably “Really, Miss Delia,” I said feeling
foolish, as I caught the
painter of the canoe and rescued the
floating paddle, “I’ll never forgive
myself for this; I wish you were a
j man and could swear at me.” look,”
“What au awful fright I must
said poor Delia, putting back her wet
hair from her face.
I murmured of “Venus rising from
the sea,” but indistinctly, suddenly
doubting the propriety of the allusion.
Don’t forget your bargain, Mr.
Conway,” said she, shaking tbe water
from her bedraggled skirt; “will you
order the frock, or shall I, and send
you in the bill?”
I know it was not a very suitable
occasion to do anything so serious as
make an offer of marriage; also, that
it was a very prosaic way of putting
it, but upon my wold I couldn’t help
it.
“I wish you would give me the right
always to pay your bills,” I said.
• “I don’t think I mind if I do,” she
said.
We were both very wet and both
very muddy, but I looked into tbo.se
afore-mentioned brown eyes, and this
time she didn’t turn away, for I dis¬
covered the more artistic ending—I
put my anil around her waist and
kissed her.—Madame.
Then# is an immense garden in
China that embraces an area of 50,000
square miles. t
HOLLAND'S FENIAN RAM.
A Submarine Boat With a Curious HU-
tory Now tying xe K iected.
submarine torpedo boat with
wllich M r. Holland has been experi-
menting about New York is not his
first venture iu that line. Sixteen
years ago he built a similar vessel
£or severa i Irish patriots, headed by
James Reynolds of New Haven,Conn.,
ami the vessel was among the effects
of Mr Reynolds’ estate. For the last
thirteen years it has lain neglected
under au 0 id shed near Mill River,
New Haven, but its owners assert that
; it is .tin seaworthy. It is a cigar-
. s haped affair, built of iron, thirty feet
long, and about six in depth at the
deepest part. It had no electrical
equipment, but was provided with
steam engines and a propeller. All
the machinery was removed long ago.
The craft has always been known as
the Fenian ram. It is said that it
had several trials sixteen years ago |
off the New Jersey coast, and Mr. |
Reynolds during his lifetime was ac- j ]
customed to declare that it had fill-
tilled every expectation entertained of
it. He himself was on board during !
one trip. The Fenian ram did not
submerge itself by diving, like the
new Holland boat, but sank. Experi-
ments were made to test its effective-
ness a8 a 1 . am> with encouraging re-
sn Hs. Still attached to its bow is a
sort of boring apparatus, intended to
penetrate hulls either of iron or wood,
it has no difficulty iu staying sub-
merged for five hours. It cost, ac-
e0 rding to tbe statement of its present
keeper, about $40,000, all of which
is believed to have been furnished by
the Fenian societies.
No one seems to know who is tlio
owner of this craft. It is at present
in charge of Capt. P. O’Connor, son-
in _ law o£ James Reynolds. Mr. Hey¬
j no i dS( w ho brought it to New Haven
thirteen years ago, was an Irish
patriot of world-wide fame. It was
lie who was prin.ciptftly instrumental
iu arranging for the voyage of the
merchantman Catalpa, which sailed
from New Bedford in 1875 under the
command of Captain John Anthony,
an d, after a series of adventures, effected
the escape of the six prisoners at
]p reeman tie, Australia, condemned to
Rf e imprisonment for their part in
penian rising in 1866. They were
the companions of John Bovlc O’Reilly,
who made his own escape the year be-
£ore> Mr. Reynolds risked all his
property in this venture, and was ever
a ft e rvvard familiarly known as Catalpa
jj m He died in New Haven last Au- ,
j g ust _ ^ f e w m0 ntlis previous to his
dea tq a banquet was given iu his
i fi onor at ti ie New Haven house.
j It submarine j s believed boat that Mr. Holland’s
first was constructed
j f or Mr. Reynolds and other Fenians
£or U3e a g a j n st the British govern-
ment. At the time of her construe-
j ti on several hafl well to know Ireland New and Haven been
men gone
imprisoned on account of their
j aotivity m^ against Reynolds England. nourished It is thought plans
f or their rescue, and that liis sub- J
mar in e ram was built in view of his >
intended operations. practical It was never | :
t tQ use. New Haven
irishmen have suggested incase the
new Holland boat fulfilled the expec- ;
tatious entertained of it, that Mr. 1
Reynold’s craft be presented to the
government. With a few repairs and ;
changes they believe that the old
Fenian ram might prove useful.—Neiv
York Sun.
London Idea of American Manners,
In an article describing tbe ladies’
billiard saloon of the Waldorf-Astoria
hotel in New York the London Globe
enlightens its readers with the fol¬
lowing veracious observation: “If a
man should be so bold as to remove
his coat, ail attendant instantly hands
him a lounge jacket. All present shut j
their eyes and do not open them again
until the ringing of a bell announces \
that the shirt sleeves have been
covered. » >
Sweden’s Matches.
The oldest match manufactory in ,
the world is in Sweden. -Matches
were made there long before the old,
roughly trimmed splinter of wood
" 1 .* V lu ’ 7 s t iscau ei
with the , tinder boxes tor which they j
were used. In twenty-five years the i
export trade of Sweden in foreign
matches increased to 10,000,000 boxes
a year.
Another Thing:.
He—I’d give up my life for you,
dear. ■
,
She Would you really give up tbe i
life you are living?—Boston Courier, j
INSURANCE ACAINST ILLNESS.
People Now Able to Prepare for Attacks
of Contagions I>1 tease.
The newest thing in personal insur¬
ance, so far as this country is concerned,
is insurance against sickness. Such
insurance has been furnished in Eng¬
land and on the continent for some
time, and iu Germany, where tbe
blessings of a paternal government
are enjoyed to the fullest extent, it.
was recently announced that all heads
of families engaged in wage-earning
would be compelled to take out iusur-
anee against illness.
Insurance of this kind has been fur-
nished iu this country for some time
on a small scale by mutual organiza¬
tions, but it was not until last sum¬
mer that it was taken up by any well-
established company.
There are said to be only two com-
panies at present prepared to write
policies of insurance against illness,
This is included with regular accident
insurance, and there is a combination
policy offered by which for a small ad-
ditional payment the insurance against
illness is secured.
A person so insured may receive
$'25 a week if he suffers from “typhus
fever, typhoid fever, scarlet fever,
smallpox, varioloid, diphtheria, mea-
sles, or Asiatic cholera, and such ill-
ness shall, independently of all other
causes, continuously and wholly dis-
able and prevent the insured from per-
forming any and every kind of duty
pertaining to his occupation.” The
limit of indemnity is fixed at twenty-
six weeks. AU the diseases mentioned
are of a contagious character, and no
attempt has been made as yet to in-
sure against any others.
Iusuvance men who are interested
in this subject are watching with in-
terest to see how the new idea“takes,”
and some of them say it is probable
that the list of diseases which a per-
son can become insured against will
soou be lengthened.
If will be noted that one important
contagious disease, yellow fever is not
named iu the list, but the chances of
being attacked with yellow fever in
this part of the country are so small
that its omission is not a matter of
great importance to New Yorkers. —
New York Tribune.
Can Talk under Water.
When Captain Louis Sorche of Bui-
timore, himself a diver, invented the
submarine telephone he brought forth
a great boon for his fellow craftsmen,
Had it not been for these telephones
many a diver who is at work today
would have been dead, simply because
he would not have had the means to
tell of his peril in time to have been
saved.
This invention makes it possible for !
the diver’s tender to hear even a
whisper from the man below water,
and the attendant can talk with equal
facility to the man he has to care for.
The telephone’s ends are fastened to
the heads of both men, and gives
them full use of their hands. By a
wire connection made above water by
two tenders, a diver can talk to an-
other who is working some distance
from him. The old svstem of signal-
ing wants by the number of tugs at
the life lino was very unsatisfactory,
for often the signals were misnuder-
stood, and many a diver lost his life
for that reason.
Six of these telephones were in use
by the divers working oil the wreck of
the Maine in Havana harbor. They
saved the lives of several of the men
who had so fallen that they would
have been strangled unless their diffi¬
culty was distinctly understood. What
a man says can be understood always,
but he cannot always signal and be
sure of making what he wants to say
understood, even though he is sure of
the code of signals.—New York Press.
Tlie Money In Strawberries.
To show how much money there is
in strawberries when the grower sells
at home, we will give one or two in¬
stances. On Monday Ivie Robinson
picked 275 quarts of behries. He was
offered 16 cents a quart, wllich he
promptly accepted, making a total of
$ f the one d >s picking . Kie
hftS tUree Peking : J days 4- in each week,
„ d he (u erag 0 two hundred
qunrts at each picking. When a fair
j, 1 r iee is offered he is always J wise
enough to sell, and who would want
a better Klondike than this?—Orlando
(F1 '' . Ke110 ' .. t ,,,.
Hard Pressed.
Priggs—What did she say when she
rejected you?
Griggs-—She said it wasn’t neces-
sadly due to lack of merit, but on ac-
C()mi t 0 f the great pressure of other
material.—Life.
NO. 26,
GRANT IN THE WILDERNESS.
A Wounded Soldier's Close Study ot* tli®
lirvnt Commander,
“Oh, it was an intensely interesting
study—my study of Grant at dose
range in the Wilderness!”
The speaker was the Rev. Theodore
Gerrish, a Maine veteran of the civil
war.
“Ah! I can never forget that terrible
day iu 1864, when was fought the lirst
of the two days’ bloody battles of the
Wilderness,” continued Mr. Gerrish.
“1 at the time lay wounded under a
tree, close to Grant’s headquarters in
the field, and hour after hour watched
Grant,
it While serving ns a private in my
regiment, I was severely, though not
dangerously wounded, and, like a
great number of others, was taken to
the rear. I was placed under a small
tree, and, as it happened, within a
few rods of the spot where the leader
of that mighty host of Union warriors
was conducting the battle. In fact, I
was so near to Grant that I could see
every motion lie made, and critically
study him iu the momentous, fearfully
responsible role he was playing.
“And such a study! ■
“Why, it is not hyperbole to state
that it was worth all the pain and dis¬
ability 1 endured then and thereafter
from the effects of my wounds,
“There stood the ‘silent man o(
destiny’ in front of his little tent; a
man plain and unpretentious, holding
in his hands not only the.fate of his
vast army, but the life of our nation
as‘one and inseparable,’ yet as cool
and self-possessed as if he were merely
eviewiug abrigade of militia on train-
ing day. All about him was wild ex-
citement and seeming chaos. In
front of him, and for miles in extent,
the unceasing roar of artiUerv mingling
anil alternating with the rattle of
musketry, the bugle calls, the shouts
of the contending troops, now nearer
,.'■<! more terrible,now seeming farther
away; anon the crashing of a shell iu
dangerous nearness, causing a tem-
porary scare in the vicinity of its full.
“Everybody was agitated except
him who had most cause for travail,
“Staff 1 officers would gallop up every
few minutes, to each of whom lie
would give a brief written order for
to some brigade or divi^
sion Commander, perhaps involving
the fate of thousands of brave men.
Orderlies were dashing hither and
von. General Meade, on his alert
charger, was so nervous that he could
not long remain in his saddle, but
would dismount and pace the ground
a while, remount and sit a short time,
then off and walk as before, his liaud-
some face wearing a worn and troubled
look; and yet, through these long and
terrible hours Grant never once lost
his head, but kept constantly in his
mind’s eye all the details and intrica-
cies of that stupendous plan which
devolved on him alone to carry oat —
the solution of that mighty problem,
the key to which lay in his right
hand, which held the fateful pencil.
‘Tes, Grant knew precisely what
he was about, and he knew,moreover,
that a cool head and well balanced
mind were all-essential to the great
work in hand. .
“The lesson of that day’s study of
Grant Whs, that he was one of the
most wonderful men this century has
produced. ”
London Newspaper Cheats,
“I was iu London on the day that
the news of tbe sinking of the Maine
was flashed over the cable,” said Mr.
W. B. Chester of San Francisco.
“The newspapers of the English
capital employ men to perambulate
the streets with big notices of start¬
ling events placarded on their bodies in
the way of advertisement for pending
editions. These ‘sandwich men,’ as
they call them, bore the sensational
legend in "big type:
4 4 ‘The United States battleship
Maine blown up by the Spaniards.’
“This announcement certainly
created a stir in London, and there was-
a rush for the newspapers of almost
unprecedented proportions. After
buying them the public soou caught
on to tbe fact that the walking ads.had
been in a way. a snare and delusion,
but tbe deception caused the sale of
many thousand extra copies.”—Wash¬
ington Post.
A Sell eme That Failed.
Papa—I did tlie count an injustice.
I thought he was a chump.
Mamma—And you have changed
your opinion?
Papa—Yes, indeed! You should
have seen him kick when I tried to
work off some worthless railroad stock -s
as part of tbe marriage se'.Cement.—
Puck!