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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.”