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VOL. I.
THE CITY OF SLEEP.'
Over the edge of the purple down,
Know Where the single road lamplight Merciful gleams, Town
ye the to the
That Is laid by the Sea of Dreams—
Where the poor may lay their wrongs away,
And the sick may forget to weep? ’
But we—pity us ! ah! pity us
Wo wakeful; oh! pity us!
We must go back with Policeman Day—
Back from the City of Sleep!
Weary they turn from the scroll and crown,
Fetter and prayer and plow—
They that go up to the Merciful Town,
For her gates are closing npw. Night
It is their right soul in the baths of
Body and to steep; ! us!
We—pity us; ah pity
We wakeful: oh! pity us!
We must go back with Policeman Day—
Back from the City of Sleep !
Over the edge of the purple down,
Ere the tender dreams begin; Merciful Town,
Look—we may look—at the
But we may not enter In.
Outcasts all, from her guarded wall,
Back to one watch we creep;
Wo—pity us; ah! pity us!
We wakeful; oh! pity us!
V7e that go back with Policeman Day—
Back from the City of —Rudyard Sleep! Kipling.
Holding the express, i
$ BY GEORGE ETHELBEBT WALSH. $
“I’m going to make out my applica¬
tion. for promotion to tbe Junction this
morning,” remarked Ray Stannard,
emphatically. “I don’t believe the
railroad would ever promote one if he
didn’t ask for it.”
“Probably not, Ray,” answered
Arthur, his brother, and senior by two
years. “But on the other hand you
might lose your position if you seem
dissatisfied. I’ve been promoted twice,
and I never once asked for an ad¬
vance.”
“That’s the difference between your
stove, where the officers are all gentle¬
men, and the J. T. & W. railroad,
where you don’t know who is the
authority. Those who pay me my
wages never come down to see me.
They even send an agent down to col¬
lect the monthly bjlls. If I could get
up at the Junction in the main office I
might get a chance to work up. But
down here at this small station I’m
not noticed, and nobody knows
whether I do my work well or not.”
“Do you believe that?” Arthur
asked. “Don’t you think they know
up at headquarters what agents do
their duty thoroughly? I don’t know,
but I’ll bet they have a record of you,
and every other employe on the road.
“Well, my record is clean,” Ray re¬
plied. “My reports have all been cor¬
rect, and I have never made a mistake
of a serious nature in my office.”
“Then I should say such a record
will tell in your favor in time.*’
“In time? Yes, when I’m an old
man. I’ve been here four years—ever
since I left school—and I’m no nearer
promotion than at first.”
Arthur shook his head. ,At the fork
in the road they separated, and
Arthur’s last words to his brother
were;
“Don’t do things hasty, Ray. Re¬
member, we must support mother,and
if you lose your position things will
go hard this winter.”
“Oh, they won’t drop me,” Ray
answered, a little proudly. “They
know that I’m valuable to them, and
they won’t get another agent here to
do their work so well.”
The two brothers worked about a
mile apart—Arthur in a large factory
below Jamesport, and Ray in the rail¬
road station just outside of the village.
Four years before Mr. Stannard had
died,leaving his wife and two children
practically penniless. Both of them
were at school at the time, preparing
for college; but with praiseworthy
zeal they gave up their cherished plans
without a murmur, and secured em¬
ployment to support their mother.
Arthur was doing well in the woolen
factory, where he was liked and
trusted, and Ray had always per¬
formed his duties satisfactorily as
ageuL for the railroad at Jamesport.
He was quick at figures and a good
telegraph operator. passed
But as the months and years
his ambition to secure a position in
the main office at the Junction grew
upon him, but seemed to be doomed
to disappointment. His position was
more irritating because his brother
had twice in the same time been pro¬
moted iu the factory.
He felt particularly gloomy and dis¬
satisfied this morning, as he left
Arthur, and trudged on toward the
railroad. He entered the small station
and proceeded duties slowly office. to perform the
routine of his
Then, when the morning express
had passed and the waybills had been
made out, he sat down before his
THE TRIBUNE. s)
“Don’t Give Up tl*© Slxlp”
BUCHANAN, GA., FRIDAY, JULY 8, 1898.
desk and began to write out his appli¬
cation.
“It’s the only way I’ll ever get ad¬
vanced,” he muttered to himself, as if
to strengthen any wavering of liis de¬
cision. “I’ve waited four years for
some recognition of my service from
the company, and at this rate it will
never come. I believe every one who
succeeds in railroading has to push liis
way forward.”
Satisfied with this argument, he
proceeded to frame his thoughts, and
to put. them upon paper. He found,
when he came to enumerate his good
points, that he had done nothing ex¬
traordinary—only administered the
affairs of iiis office intelligently, and
without any serious mistakes.
Ray had fair gifts as a writer, and
his petition was well worded. When
finished he read it over to
see if it sounded just right.
He was right in the midst
of it when his telegraph instru¬
ment began to click. He listened to
its sounds, and read the message:
“Hold the west-bound express at
Jamesport until further orders. Track
is torn up between Jamesport and tbe
Junction. E. T.T.”
Ray took a mental note of the mes¬
sage and glanced at his watch.
“She w'on’t be here inside of half
au hour,” he said.
Then once more he started to read
his petition. After making a few
corrections he laid it down on his desk
with a satisfied smile.
“There, if that doesn’t do the work
I’m mistaken,” he muttered in au
undertone. “I don’t think Arthur
could find fault with it.”
It was only natural that the idea of
securing promotion should stimulate
the boy’s imagination, and that he
began to jdan for the future. Tipped
track in his comfortable chain, he
thought of the time when he might
become superintendent of the
division, and probably in time general
passenger agent, and even president,
of the road. Then, with a big salary
and a private car, he would be his
own master and support his mother
in the style she deserved.
A wave of compassion for other
boys and poor station agents swept
over tion in him. the He management wqpld make of an the innova¬ road.
He would visit every station at cer¬
tain times and personally inspect the
record of the agents. Then, where
good service warranted it, he would
make promotions, and not keep deserv¬
ing employes in one place for a long
time.
It was pleasant to think of the
gratitude the men would feel toward
him, and in his dreams he posed as a
benefactor to the deserving poor on
the road with considerable grace and
condescension. It was an added
satisfaction to know that he had worked
up from the lowest position to the
highest, and that he was familiar with
all the discouragements and disap¬
pointments of the various employes.
In the midst of his dreams he heard
the shriek of an engine, but it
seemed more like the echo of a dream
than a reality. It took some moments
for Ray to bring himself back to prac¬
tical thoughts.
Suddenly he dropped his feet from
their perch on the desk with a bang,
and jumped from his chair with the
startled exclamation:
“The express is coming!”
It was indeed the whistle of the ap¬
proaching express that had sounded
so far away in his dreams, and now he
could hear the roar and rumble of the
train as it bore down upon him at the
rate of fifty miles an hour.
In an instant the telegraphic order
to hold the express at Jamesport
flashed across Ray’s mind. That
order had not yet been countermanded,
and the exjmess was .down upon him
without any signals to stop her.
The boy turned deathly pale as he
sprang to his feet and rushed for the
door. Just as he reached the plat¬
form of the station the express gave
utterance to another shrill whistle and
flashed by the small depot like a hur¬
ricane. In the strong suction of wind
that followed in the wake of the fly¬
ing train Ray lost his hat, but, un¬
mindful of that, he stood as if petri¬
fied by the awful catastrophe which
his negligence had caused.
The express was rushing on to its
doom, carrying with it probably
several hundred people. Ray was
helpless to avert the terrible calamity.
The track was torn up between the
two stations; and it would do no good
to telegraph on to the Junction. The
harm was already done, and no earthly
power could save the train.
Ray staggered into the office. Every
particle of blood had left his face. He
felt weak and helpless. Burying lii8
face into his bands, be gave vent to
sobs that shook bis frame. Before
him was bis petition for promotion.
The sight of it brought a revulsion of
feelings, and be took it up and tore
it into shreds.
‘*If it hadn’t been for that I would
have attended to my duty,” ho mut¬
tered.
Then the cold perspiration broke
out upon his forehead as he again
realized the horror of his situation.
He was a murderer a hundred times
over; in all probability the train was
already wrecked, and scores ol
mangled, bleeding corpses were crying
to heaven against the perfidy of the
man who had so suddenly launched
them to their destruction.
“Oh, God, help me!” the boy cried,
in his utter helplessness.
Under the strain it seemed as if he
would lose his mind, and he rose from
his seat and paced back and forth in
the narrow office.
“Imust do something,” he said,
finally. “I’ll face it all and telegraph
to the Junction for a wrecking train.
I shall not try to excuse myself. ”
He seated himself at his desk again
and seized the knob of the machine,
but before he could call up the opera¬
tor at the Junction a message for him
came ticking over the wires:
“Release the express, Track all
clear. E. T. T.”
For an instaut the boy could no!
comprehend the full import and mean¬
ing of this message to him. Then, as
it dawned upon him, the revulsion oi
feeling was too much for his strength.
He dropped back into his chair, and
for an instant it seemed as if he lost
consciousness.
When he recovered himself he
walked unsteadily toward the door
and opened it to take a full breath of
fresh air. The world never seemed so
beautiful to him as at that moment,
Every familiar object of the landscape
impressed him as being dear and at-
tractive. He was in love with his
native village, and his small, insignifi-
cant office appeared in a new light.
When he turned around and realized
it all, he said aloud:
“Thank God it is not true; it is not
true.”
That night Arthur asked Ray if he
had forwarded his petition for pro-
motion to headquarters.
“No,” the boy replied, “I bave
thought it all over, and I feel content
where I am. I won’t make any re-
quest for a promotion.”
Arthur looked queerly at his brother
nnd wondered at the cause of his sud-
den clfange of opinion, but Ray did
not divulge his secret until long after.
One day there came word from the
chief at the Junction requesting Ray
to appear for examination for promo¬
tion.
That night when he was assured of
of his new place, he related to Arthur
the terrible accident that his neglect
had nearly caused to the express.
“I was so thankful when I found
that it was not true,” he concluded,
“that I had no further desire for pro¬
motion. It made me satisfied with
my position, and warned me that I
could do more good iu attending to
my duty than in worrying for some¬
thing higher. It was an experience
and lesson, Arthur, that I can never
forget.” shuddered
And the boy at the mere
recollection of liis terrible mistake—
a mistake which none but himseli
knew about, but which' might have
ruined him for life and precipitated
two hundred lives into eternity!
Earnings of Canadian Indians.
There are some astonishing figures
in recent returns presented to the Do¬
minion parliament showing the amount
of Indian ear.xings for the last year.
According to these statistics the In¬
dians of Canada received as proceeds
of the fisheries $450,270.85, and as
earned by hunting $408,318.83, The
statemeut “earned by hunting,” as
our long-time Quebec correspondent,
Mr. J. U. Gregory, tells us, is to be
understood as including all furs,
wherever sold, to the Hudson’s Bay
company or others. In these days,
when we are all talking about the ob¬
literation of wild creatures, this an¬
nual fur catch of more than $400,000
for Canada is significant of an enor¬
mous native supply, all the more re¬
markable since the fur industry has
been carried on for so many decades.
—Forest and Stream.
A Superlative Decree.
“Is Mr. Van Daub, the artist, as
bad as he is painted?”
“Worse, He is as bad as he
paints.”
SEWARD’S COSTLY DISPATCH.
The Bill Was S15.000, and One of th«
Kesnlts Was the Fall of Maximilian.
It was during our own serious
troubles in the early sixties that
France and Austria undertook to plan!
an empire on this continent in the
neighboring state of Mexico. Although
warned off by our state department,
American diplomatic methods seem
never to inspire any particular amount I
of awe in European foreign offices. |
In this case they were simply ignored, |
and tbe two allied powers continued
tbeir work of setting up au emperor
in tbe land of Montezuma. However,
with the ending of our war and the
readjustment of our own internal
affairs, attention was again directed to
what was going on in Mexico against
the avowed wishes and policy of the
American government.
At this period Napoleon and Eu¬
genie were dazzling the world with
the splendors of the court of the
second empire. A great number of
onr own people from all sections of the
country were residing in Paris, to
which city it was jokingly said “all
good Americans wanted to go after
death.” Americans were in evidence
at all the brilliant fetes of tlte empire.
The elegance of their residence, the
lavish expenditure of money, and the
brilliancy and fascination of the women
from this side of the Atlantic made '
our country people important social
factors. The American colony in Paris
as an organization dates from this
period.
At the height of this happy state of
affairs Secretary Seward’s dispatch
notifying the imperial government that
Mexico must be evacuated came
like the proverl#al thunderclap out
of a cloudless skv. That dispatch
yet holds a place in France’s official
memory. The cable was almost in its
infancy, and communication through
it was very costly. Secretary Seward
did not economize his words, but
talked as fluently and went into as
| many details as though he were seated
' at a table opposite the French minis-
ter of foreign affairs.
The dispatch cost $1-5,000. If Na- !
poleon III had been skeptical before
as to the intention of the United ■
States, Seward’s coolness in holding a
, conversation at such a price convinced
i the emperor and his ministers that
j the American government would ,
; stand by what the secretary said, and ■
France came to the conclusion to let
Maximilian “go it alone” as emperor
of Mexico.
The withdrawal of the French
troops was ordered, and this led direct- i
ly to Maximilian’s tragic death at
Queretaro in June, 1867. The empe¬
ror did not pretend to disguise liis
chagrin at the failure to establish a
monarchical government in America.
On July 4 following the execution of
Maximilian a number of American
gentlemen in Paris made all arrange¬
ments to celebrate the national festi¬
val by a grand dinner. But the ban¬
quet was never given, the emperor
formally and arbitrarily forbidding it.
Up to this time the Americans who
spent immense sums of money in Paris
were warmly received at the Tuileries,
and in fact encouraged to come, for
nothing more contributed to the sta¬
bility of the empire than keeping the
shopkeepers of Paris iu good humor
and plenty of American gol^l circu¬
lating throughout France, Under
such conditions the emperor was at
liberty to run the country as he
pleased.
After Secretary Seward’s costly dis¬
patch had had its results—not only in
the withdrawal of French troops from
Mexico, but iu>a diminution of Louis
Napoleon’s prestige—the glories of the
American colony at the imperial court
began to wane. Since then only on
extraordinary occasions does it exhibit
any of its old-time, empire-period bril¬
liancy. Under the new dispension of
republican government it is a matter
of such difficulty for an American to
get an invitation to the Elysee as to
be hardly worth the trouble incurred.
Had Heard Papa Talk,
Little Clarence (a youthful Solo¬
mon)—Papa, nobody can ever tell
what a woman will do next, can they?
Mr. Callipers —No, my son; and if
you could tell it would not be advis¬
able for you to do so for if you did
she would be sure to do something
else. —Puck.
Criticism.
She—I’ve just been at the picture
gallery. Jack had a picture there—a
landscape after Corot.
He—I saw it. If Corot could see it
I think he might be after Jack.
NO. 31.
THE UNIVERSAL AILMENT.
Sotno Suggestions as to tlio Mitigation of
the Disease Once Called Quinsy.
Quinsy, or tonsilitis,is au acute in¬
flammation of one or both tonsils.
The inflammation is commonly very
“active,” causing great pain and end¬
ing in the formation of matter.
Children, and especially young
adults, are moat subject to the disease,
for it is in them that the tonsils are
most fully developed and most prone
to take on inflammation. The glands
gradually become smaller in middle
life and have more or less completely
disappeared in those who have reached
old age.
The catise of quinsy is not always
evident. A tendency to the disease
seems sometimes to run in families,
and it has been noted that those who
bave frequent attacks of tousilitis in
youth ofteu suffer from gout or rheu¬
matism in later life. The immediate
cause seems often to be exposure to
cold and wet when the person is fa¬
tigued or a little “under the weather.”
The presence of sewer gas in the
house has been accused of exciting
attacks of tousilitis in those unfortu¬
nates who have contracted the quinsy
habit.
The first indication of trouble is
usually a chill or chilly sensation,such
as many people have come to recog-
nize as a sign of having caught cold,
This is followed by a little fever, with
dryness and “stiffness” in the throat
and a little pain on swallowing,
The pain, which rapidly increases,
is continuous, but is greatly aggra¬
vated by the chewing and swallowing
of food. On looking into the throat
the swollen and reddened tonsil is
readily seen. When both tonsils are
affected they may ofteu he seen press-
iug against each other, and seemingly
blocking up the throat completely,
Sometimes the trouble may—appar-
ently, at least—be cut short by early
treatment-, but usually the iuflamnia-
tion goes on to the formation and dis-
charge of an abcess. A!
A person with tonsilitis should live
on milk and broths. Indeed, there is
110 temptation to take solid food, not
p n b" because of the pain in swallow-
ing, but because the appetite is lost.
Gargling with a strong solution of
borax or bicarbonate of soda in hot
water, to which a little glycerine lias
been added, is very grateful., Cold
compresses applied to the throat at
the beginning of an attack occasion-
ally appear to cut it short, but after
the formation of pus has clearly be-
come inevitable, warm applications or
poultices should be used. As soon as
matter lias formed it should be let out,
and the ensuing relief will amply com¬
pensate for the momentary pain of the
little operation—Youth’s Comjranion.
Patriotism in Germany.
In Germany they teach patriotism in
the popular schools ; in England we
do not —at any rate, not officially. Iu
Germany the Kaiser’s birthday, the
anniversary of Sedan, and other na¬
tional landmarks are celebrated iu the
national schools. They have feastsand
music and excursions ; but the chil¬
dren have kept 'clearly before their
eyes the reason for their rejoicings.
Indeed, the law impresses upon pa¬
rents and children that all voluntary
absence from these school feasts is an
offense. There were parents who kept
their children back, especially from
the Sedan commemoration, and this
on conscientious grounds. But now
no longer; “for,” says the magistrate,
“any uuexcused absence from patriotic
festivals established by the school
shall be considered as voluntary non-
attendance, and inspectors,' teachers,
and the authorities concerned are
hereby instructed to this effect.”
Patriotism a la pedagogue, perhaps,
but patriotism none the less ; and the
children of a great empire might per¬
haps do well to take a leaf out of a
book made iu Germany. Let uS im¬
agine the astonishment of the English
child if he were told that he was to
have a holiday and a fete for the sake
of some great event in our own his¬
tory. But Germany has these patri¬
otic school-feasts, and Franco the em¬
blem of the republic iu every school¬
room, because they actually imagine
the patriot is made as well as bora.—
Pall Mall Gazette.
A Little Cyclist’* Queer Letter.
An eight-year-old Philadelphia cy¬
clist wrote to his uucle, “I can ride
know handed without any feet, and I
can put my feet through the bars and
stand up on the seat on my feet and
knees. 1 guess you have seen me ride
with one hand and know feet, and I
can pull lots of hills mamma can’t.”