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THE LINCOLNTON NEWS
VOLUMB IX. N UMBER 1.
THE GREAT SOUTH AMERICAN
NERVINE TONIC
AND
Till Stomach^Livep Cure
Most Astonishing Medical Discovery of
the Last One Hundred Years. "
5 I ,
s Pleasant to the Taste as the Sweetest Nectar.\
! It is Safe and Harmless as the Purest Milk.
This wonderful Nervine Tonic has onlv recently been introduced into
this .. . country by the Great South
value American Medicine Company, and yet its
great as a curative agent has long been known by the native inhab¬
itants of South America, who rely almost wholly upon its great medicina l
powers to cure every form of disease by which they are overtaken, t
ls 1 F e w an< ^ valuable South American medicine possesses powers and
qualities . 1 hitherto , unknown to the medical profession. This
completely solved the problem medicine has
of the cure of Indigestion, Dyspepsia, Liyer
forms Complaint,, and nealth ’ leases from of the whatever general Nervous System. It also cures all
■Nervidl^^p cause. It performs this by the Great
lalities which it possesses and by its great curative powers
upon the dig -ve organs, the stomach, the liver and the bowels. No remedy
Btrengthener compares with^ this life wonderfully forces of the valuable human Nervine Tonic as a builder and
a broken down, c constitution. ie It is also of body real and as a great renewer of
treatment and of diseases more permanent value in the
cure of the Lungs than any ten consumption rem
tdies ever used on this continent. It is a marvelous cure for nervousness
01 temales of all ages. Ladies who are approaching the critical period known
as change m life, should not fail to use this great Nervine Tonic almost
constantly the danger. for the space This of two or three years. It will carry them safely
value over to the aged and infirm, great strengtheiier because and curative is of inestimable
its great energizing properties will
give them a new hold on life. It will add ten or fifteen years to the lives of
many of those who will use a half dozen bottles of the remedy each year.
CURES
Nervousness and Broken Constitution,
Nervous Prostration, Debility of Old Age,
Nervous Headache and Indigestion and. Dyspepsia,
Sick Headache, Heartburn and Sour Stomach,
Female Weakness, Weight and Tenderness in Stomach,
All Diseases of Women, Loss of Appetite,
Nervous Chills, Frightful Dreams,
Paralysis, Nervous Paroxysms Dizziness and Ringing in the. Ears,
and Weakness of Extremities and
IVervous Choking Fainting,
Hot Flashes, Impure and Impoverished Blood,
Palpitation Mental Despondency, of the Heart, Boils and Carbuncles,
Sleeplessness, Scrofula, Scrofulous
St. Vitus’s Dance, . Consumption Swelling of and Lungs, Ulcers,
the
Nervousness Nervousness of of Females, Old Age, Catarrh of the Lungs,
Neuralgia, Bronchitis and Chronic Cough,
Pains Liver Complaint,
in the Heart, Chronic Diarrhoea,
Pains in the Back, Delicate and Scrofulous Children,
All Aii Summer Complaint of Infants.
tpese and many other complaints cured by this wonderful Nervine Tonic,
NERVOUS DISEASES.
As a cure for every class of Nervous Diseases, no remedy has been able
to compare with the Nervine Tonic, which is very pleasant and harmless in
all its effects upon the youngest chil l or the oldest and most delicate individ¬
ual. Nine-tenths of all the ailments to which the human family is heir, are
insufficient dependent on nervous exhaustion and impaired digestion. When there is an •
the brain, spinal supply of nerve and food in the blood, a general state of debility of
marrow nerves is the result. Starved nerves, like
starved muscles, become strong when the right kind of food is supplied, and
,a thousand weaknesses and ailments disappear as the nerves recover. As the
nervous body system carried, must supply it is the all first the to power suffer by for which the of vital perfect forces of tha
•Ordinary are on, want nutrition.
food does not contain a sufficient quantity of the kind of nutriment
necessary the to repair For the wear our present mode of living and labor imposes
upon nerves. this reason ifc.beeomes necessary that a nerve food be
supplied. found, by analysis, This recent production essential of the Booth American Continent has been
to contain the elements out of which nerve tissue
is formed. This accounts for its magic power to cure all forms of nervous
derangements.
' CBAIVFORD 8 VILU 2 , to) , Aug. 20, ’86.
[To I Dear tte C beat Gents;—! South American desCm Medicine Co.;
, have suffered to siyvio you that 1
I for many years -nth a very seri¬
ous disease of the stomach and nerves. 1 tried
every medicine I could hear oi but nothing
f done me any appreciable good until I was ad
’ vised to try your Great South American Nervine
Tonic and Stomach-and Liver Cure, and since
using several bottles of it I mint Ay that I am
*arprised Stomach and at its wonderful powers to cure the
knew the general value of nervous sy*em. If every¬
one would this remedy as I do. you
rot be able to supply the diemand. J
J. A. Hardee,
Ex-Trees. Montgomery Co.
A SWORN CURE FOR ST.
Jfy daughter, ORAVrgORDsYILLE, twelve to)., old, May had 19,1886. been af¬
flicted for several months years with Chorea St.
or
Vitus’s Dance. Sho was reduced to a skeleton,
could not walk, could miik. not I talk, had could handle not swal¬ her
low low anything anything but Doctor neighbors to her
like an infant. and gave
up.' I commenced ed giving giving her her the the South South Ameri- Ameri¬
can Nervine Tonic; the effects were of very sur¬
prising. In three days she was rid the
vousness. d her and completely. rapidly improved. I think Four the bottles South
cure
discovered, American Nervine and would the recommend grandest remedy it to ever
Mbs. W. S. ENSaflNQEB. every
one.
State Montgomery of Indiana, J $s:
Subscribed aud county, J to before this May
sworn me
1887, Chas. M. Public. **
INDIGESTION AND DYSPEPSIA.
kv '- A The Great South American Nervine Tonic
Which we now offer you, is the only absolutely unfailing remedy ever discov¬
ered for the cure of Indigestion, Dyspepsia, and the vast train of symptoms
and horrors which are the result of disease and debility of the human stom¬
ach. effected No by person disease can of afford the Stomach, to pass by because this jewel the experience of incalculable and testimony value who ii
of.
thousands go to prove that this is the one aud only one great cure ia the
world for this universal destroyer. Thero.is no case of unmalignant discasa
of the stomach which can resist.tho wonderful curative powers of the South
American Nervine Tonic.
Harriet E. life Hall, The of Waynetown. Great South Ind., says;
"I owe my to for American
Nervine. I had been in bed five months In
from the effects of an exhausted Stomach, general
digestion, Nervous Prostration and a
shattered condition of my whole system. Had
given up all hopes of getting well. Had tried
three doctore with no relief. Tho first bottle of
the Nervine Tonic improved me so much that I
Was able to walk about, and a few bottles cured
me entirely. I believo it tho best medicine in
the world. I can not recommend it too highly.’
Mrs. M. Russell, Sugar Creek bottles Valley, of Ind., Tho
writes: ‘‘I have used several and will X
South American Nervine Tonic, tho world. say I,
consider It the best medicine in of children.
believe it saved the live? of two my
They them were good down until and X nothing procured appeared this remedy. to uo
It any surijising how rapidly they both
was very itoise. I recommend the medi¬
cine improved all on neighbors.
to my
EVERY BOTTLE WARRANTED.
..Price, Large IS ounce Bottlss, $1.2B. Trial Size, 16 cents
GROVER & MITCHELL.
Sole Wholesale and Retail Dealers for Lincoln County.
DEVOTED TO THE INTEREST OP LINCOLN COUNTY.
Mr. Eolomon Bond, a member of the Society
of Friends, of Darlington, Ind., says: “I have
used twelve bottles of The Great South Ameri¬
can Nervine Tonic and StoWch bottle and Liver Cure,
and I consider that every did for me one
hundred dollars worth of good, because I have
not had a good night's sleep for twenty years
on account ol irritation, pain, horrible dreams,
aud general nervous prostration, which has
been caused by chronic indigestion and dys¬
condition pepsia of the of stomach and by a broken down
lie down my sleep nervous all system. Butnowlcan
and night as sweetly as a baby,
and I feel like a sound man. I do not think
there has ever been a medicine introduced into
this country which will at all compare with
this Nervine Tonic as a cure for the stomach.”
DANCE OR CHOREA.
Cbawfobdsviixe, to)., June 22, j8S7.
My daughter, eleven years old, was severely
afflicted with St. Titus’s Dance or Chorea. We
gave her three and one-half bottles of South
American Nervine and she is completely re¬
stored. I believe it will euro every case of Sc.
Vitus’s Dance. I have kept It in my family for
two years, and am sure it is the greatest rem¬
edy in the world for Indigestion Disorders and Dyspep¬ Failing
sia. all forms oi Nervous and
Health from whatever cause.
John T. Misti.
Subscribed and sworn to before mo this June
22,1887. Chas. \V. Wright,
Public.
Mrs. Ella A. Bratton, of New Ross, Indiana,
says: “I can not express My how much lowetoiho
Net-vino Tonic. system was completely
shattered, spitting aupetite blood; gone, was I coughing the firs", ami
up am sure was in
stages oi consumption, several an inheritance handed
down through generations. I began
taking the Nervine Tonic and continued its
I. for about six months, and am entirely
cured. stomach It )s the grandest remedy for nerves,
, and lungs 1 kavq ever seen.
Ed. J. Brown, Druggist, of Edina, Mo., writes:
“My health had been very poor for years, was
coughing severely. I only weighed 110 pounds
when X commenced using South American
Nervine. I have used two bottles and now
weigh better than 130 pounds, have been aud for am five much stronger Am and
would have lived through years. tho Winter Suva had
not My
I not secured this for remedy. and customers it see
whut.it has done me buy eagerly.
It giges great satisfaction.”
LINCOLNTON, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, OCTOBER 31. 1890.
TO A CITTLE BROOK.
You’re not so big os you were then,
O title brook!
I mean those hazy summers when
We boys roamed, full of awe, beside
Your noisy, foaming, tumbling tide,
And wondered if it could be true
That there were bigger, brooks than you, .
i. O mighty brook, O peerless brook i
All up and down this reedy placo
Where live* the brook,
We angled for the furitive dace;
The redwing-blackbird did his best
To make us think he’d built bis nest
Hard by the stream, when like as not,
He’d hung it in a secret spot
Far from the brook, the telltale brook’.
And often, when the noontime heat ■
Parboiled the brook.
We’d draw our boots and swing our feat
Upon the waves that, iu their play,
Would tag us last and scoot away;
And mother never seemed to know
What burnt our legs and chapped them
But father guessed it was the brook!
And Fido—how he loved to swim
The cooling brook,
Whenever we’d throw sticks for him*
And how we boys did wish that w®
Could only swim as good as he—
Why, Daniel Webster never was
Recipient of such great applause
As Fido, battling with the brook)
But once-—O most unhappy day
For you, my brook—
Come Cousin Sam along that way;
And, having lived a spell out west,
Where creeks aren’t counted much at best,
Ho neither waded, swam, nor leap,
But, with superb indifference, stepfc
Across that brook—our mighty brook!
Why do you scamper on your way,
You little brook,
When I come back to you to-day?
Is it because you flee the grass
That lunges at you as you pass.
As if, in piayful mood, it would
Tickle the truant if it could,
Y ou chuckling brook—you saucy brook 1
Or is it you no longer know—
You fickle brook—
The honest friend of long ago?
Theyears that kept us twain apart
Have changed my face but not my heart
Many and sor© those years, and yet
I fancied you could not forget
That happy time, my playmate brook 1
Oil, sing again in artless glee,
My little brook.
The song you used to sing for me—
The song that’s lingered in my ear*
So soothingly these many years;
My grief shall be forgotten when
I hear your tranquil voice again
And that sweet song, dear little brook!
—Auyene Field, in Chicago Nicies,
A LAST CHORD.
Madame Langelot, a comely, smiling
woman of thirty-six, was bumming mer
rily as she went to and fro in her dining¬
room, and giving the last glance, the
careful housewife’s glance, to the family
table. Whatever the season might be,
there was always a bunch of flowers to
enliven the board and testify to the deli
cate touch of woman.
Suddenly Madamo Langelot stopped,
as she recognized her husband’s step, and
he had hardly entered the room when
she exclaimed;
“Wliat is the matter? You look up
set.”
“I have reason to he, darling,”’he re¬
plied, “when a man hears at the same
moment of the failure and the death of his
only brother-”
“You brother, oh, my poor dear!”
cried Madame.
“His marriage, as you know, was an
unfortunate one,” continued the husband,
“he was an artist in heart and soul, and
forgot everything in his love for an
Italian lady, who had a madonna-like
face and wonderful musical talent. Her
dark eyes bewitched him, and in spite of
my entreaties, aud our father’s opposi¬
tion, he married her. He was utterly
incapable of managing his business, and
was made reckless by the death of his
adored wife. Yesterday, in despair, he
took his own life, and on me devolves
the task of settling his affairs in an hon¬
orable manner. I must do this dear, for
be. was-a Langelot.”
“Of course,” was the reply, “it is
your duty.”
“There is something else, said Mon¬
sieur _ Langelot slowly, and his wife,
startled by his hesitation, exclaimed
anxiously;
“What do you mean?”
“My brother has left a son, he is
twelve years old, but delicato and de¬
formed, and will never be able to provide
for himself.”
“And you think it is our duty to
adopt him?”
; “My dear-”
[ “You are perfectly right,” cried the
young woman, kissing her husband
fondly, “how good you are, dear l Bring
the poor boy home, and he shall be our
Clairette’s elder brother.”
Aud thus the orphan’s fate wa» settled
by these two simple loving souls.
Monsieur and Madame Langelot, who
had'been married twelve years, idolized
their ouly child. Clairette was three
years old, a frail, delicate little creature,
highly nervous, treated like a queen, and
somewhat despotic, as spoiled children
usually are.
? In a few days Lucien Langelot arrived
at his uncle's home. lie was painfully
deformed, pale aud delicate, and of his
mother's radiant beauty had inherited
nothing except the large dark eyes,which
illumined his thin face with their bril-,,
liant flashes. Close against his breast he
pressed*a violin, his dearest treasure.
At sight of this stranger the little
Clairette began to cry and sob convul¬
sively. Her cousin looked timidly at the
fair-haired and gaily dressed little crea¬
ture for a minute, then raising his instru¬
ment, said softly,
“Listen, the violin will sing to you—
do not cry.”
Aud beneath his young fingers the ar¬
tist’s bow moved wondrously, the sound
of a gay yet.tender air burst forth, and
tbe improvisation like a caress suddenly
'•oothed the child’* fears, and she was
silent.
“More, morel Sing again, pretty
music!” cried Clairette when the player
stopped, and she clapped her little hands
in glee.
8o the wonderful violin played on,
seeming to speak words of enchantment,
and showing plainly what the poor
hunchback had received as his maternal
inheritance. From that day a tender af.
fection united the two children, and 'the
years passed on.
Luc : en has become a man, and is asso
ciated with his uncle in business. He is
a most valuable assistant, being gifted
with extraordinary intelligence. He has
not neglected his musical talent, and has
bad the beat instruction.
“Do you know, my boy,” said his
uncle,“that you will some day be a great
composer, our pride and glory?*’
“My only glory," replied Lucien,
softly, “is in knowing that Clairette is
pleased with me.”
He speaks the truth, poor fellow; his
whole happiness in life depends upon his
cousin’s smile.
She too, the petted sensitive child, is
now grown up, and has become a lovely
woman. She loves her cousin with frank
sincere affection, and prefers to all other
music the air he played for her when
first they met, so that in the family the
melody is always called “Clairette’s
Song.” It is a composition worthy of a
master-musician, and since drying the
child’s tears, has become the souvenir of
her earliest joy3.
What happened nest was inevitable.
One day Luciea acknowledged to him¬
self that he loved Clairette, and called
himself a fool for daring to raise his eyes
to the daughter of his benefactor. True,
sha was his cousin, but how could he,
the poor hunch-back, hope tg marry the
beautiful blooming girl? He concealed
his grief within his heart,and the violin,
his only confidant, wept and sobbed for
his hopeless love.
Claire Langelot, a gentle, affectionate
girl, treated Lucien as her dearest friend
and counselor, confiding to him her in¬
most thoughts. One day she artlessly
told him of her love for Raoul Darboz,
and then in a sudden burst of happiness,
exclaimed :
“Here, Lucien, take your violin and
play Clairette’s Song for me!”
Ah, what bitter irony that was 1
instrument was forced to sing her happy
love, under his martyred fingers 1
A little later, Raoul and Claire were
married. Lucien played the wedding
march. It was his own composition,and
all through the music a mystic strain was
interwoven by the master's skill, and
filled the vaulted edifice with its tender
melody.
The bride started when ahe recognized
her favorite air.
“Poor cousin,” she thought, “it
is all for me that he is playing.”
. At the wedding breakfast they awaited
the musician, impatient to congratulate
him on his new composition, but be did
not appear.
“An artist’s caprice,” said Uncle
Langelot. “I’ll wager that he is busy
writing out his latest improvisation.”
Clairie was grieved at Lucien’s ab¬
sence, hut that evening she and her hus¬
band set out for Fontainebleau, which
was the first stopping place of tjielr wed¬
ding tour.
On arriving at the hotel near the grand
old forest, the young bride sat looking
out of the window to enjoy the view and
the scent of the fir trees.
Night fell, calm and quiet, the trees
were rustled by the ’caresses of the
breeze, a sweet perfume came from the
forest, and the only sound was a soft in¬
definable murmur that seemed like the
breathing of nature.
Claire turned to Raoul, saying;
“Do you know, I am anxious about
Lucien. He may be ill. I did not see
him, even to say good-bje.”
Raoul clasped her in his arms as he re¬
plied with love’s jealousy;
“Forget him and every one, my wife,
all your thoughts now belong to me,”
and beneath the blue sky where the
golden stars were sparkling, she forgot
all else in the embrace of him to whom
she had given her heart.
Suddenly there arose ou the still night
air a soft strain of music that sounded
like a sigh, a lamentation, and Claire,
roused from her ecstacy of love ex¬
claimed : f
“Hark! That is Clairette’s Song.
Dear Lucien! I know that he has come to
celebrate my happiness, to play for me
on my wedding-night. But, ah, how
sad the music sounds.”
“You are dreaming my love,”- said
Raoul, as he closed the window, “I did
not hear any music.”
Sho listened again, but the silence was
unbroken and once more she forgot,
everything but her love.
At dawn the next day, in a pathway
near the hotel there was found lying
across his broken violiD, the dead body
of Luciea Langelot. The brief lament
of uuspoken hopeless love bad floated up
for a moment to the young bride’s ear,
but the last chord from Lucien’s violin
had awakened only the birds of the for¬
est .—The Epoch.
The Broom-Corn District.
Coles and Douglas Counties, ia Illi
nois, produce half of the broom-corn
grown in the United States. The soil of
these counties, which is strong, quick,
and rich, is well adapted for the culture
of the brush. Fifty years ago the teri
ritory embraced by the two counties was
n great swamp, full of large ponds aud
was called “socjiem” land. Just wbat
“sockem” means in this connection
nobody seems to know. In later years
the swamps and ponds were drained by
means of large open ditches irud miles of
drain tile. This drainage left au almost
inexhaustible soil. Broom-corn is sup¬
posed to exhaust soil more thaa auy
vegetable that grows in that climate, but
thete is a field near Bushtou, in Coles
County, owned by I. W. Sain, that this
season produced of broom-corn— its fo^ty-ninth Chicago consee-'
utive crop
Fetes.
Joe, the Worm San.
Joe Pieree.the “only worm merchant,*
died _ in this city • few days ago. Joe
was well known on the water front. HS
•torn was a portable bucket and gunny
sack. His place of business was nearly
always open, for Joe slept but little. He
bad no partner but a diminutive Scotch
terrier that was constantly at odds with
the whole world, and his only stock m
trade was worms.
Four years since Joe, who had an in¬
terest in pure polities, determined to
register as a voter. The Registrar's
clerks subjected him to a close cross-fire
of questions because his mien was sus
piciousiy humble and his garb seedy and
worn.
“What is your business?” he was
finally asked, and, drawing aU'seriousnees- himself to
gether, Joe answered in ’
. “I am a worm merchant.”
He wa3 passed, and the story of *his
tili .-with the commissioners traveled
through the mazes of the water front,
and honest Joe was thenceforth known
S3 “the worm merchant.”
It was ten years ago that Joe appeared
on the water front and inaugurated his
enterprise. He took up his stand at the
comes- of Clay and East streets with his
slimy wares concealed in a bucket bear
ing the advertisement in prominent let
ters made with shoeblack; “Winn*,
Fresh an Gud.”
“You've spelled that wrono- Joe ’ ”
remarked a sailor to him one dav
“Never you mind,” was Joe's reply.
“Wirms is worms, and people as wants
'em knows where
Late at night, fn when noisy revelry
reigned high the brilliantly lighted
saloons along East street, Joe would go
down to the wharf and push out through
the muddy water in a small boat. Next
to an asphaltum cover Joe was the next
best friend to the terodo-stricken piles,
for he searched diligently for the long,
wriggling things until his gunnysack
was almost alive with them. Next
morning he would take up his position
on as street and wait for customers.
Nearly every lover of the rod patronized
him and the superstition spread apace
that Joe was a sort of piscatorial mas
“*’“ d A hat } f., w ° r “ s wf : r e “® u F, e te
fetch. He contributed , by his . thrift to
the support of bis mother and sisters.
When the news catne that he was dead
the whole water front mourned his loss,
—Sun Francisco Chronicle ,
An Opportune Thirty Cents.
“I bad a most extraordinary piece
luck last Sunday,” remarked a young
"broker to a Tribune re porter a day or two
ago, “and for it I have been thanking a
kind Providence ever since. I invited a
girl cousin to go down to Long Beach
for thefefternoon, take supper there and
return in the early evening. After we
started I discovered that I had somehow
brought only $2.90 with me. I had one
railroad ticket, but with another required,
two suppers, car fares and ferriage, fig¬
ure as I wanted, I was just about twenty
cents short. It was one of those horri*
ble cases of smiling and joking without,
and a sort of whited sepulchre within,
wondering wildly how to pull through.
We reached the beach, and I was re¬
volving the plan of throwing myself on
the mercy of the clerk and offering a
check, when we stopped in our stroll
along shore to examine some shells and
seaweed, when blamed if lying right at
my feet wasn't thirty cents—a quarter
and a nickel.
“I stooped down and picked them up
in a hurry.
“ ‘What have you found?’ asked wj
companion.
“ ‘A little silver,’ I said, carelessly,
“ ‘Oh, how lovely. How much?’
“ ‘Only thirty cents,’ I said, as though
I was disappointed at not finding a bag
of it. I wasn’t disappointed. Never
was so happy iu my life. It was just
enough to pull me through, and I reached
home with ten cents, but I tell you it
don’t do to lean on your luck like that
every day.”—A sm York Tribune.
Why the Dayaks Hunt Heads.
Many Dayak tribes of Australia are
still addicted to head-hunting, a prac¬
tice which has made their name notor¬
ious, aud which but lately threatened
the destruction of the whole race. It is
essentially a religious practice—so much
so that no important act in their lives
seems sanctioned unless accompanied by
the offering of one or more heads. The
child is born under adverse influences
unless the father has presented a head or
two to the mother before its birth. The
young man can not become a man and
arm himself with the maudau, or war
club, Until he has beheaded at least one
victim. The wooer is rejected by the
maiden of his choice unless be can pro¬
duce one head to adorn their new home.
The chief fails to secure recognition un-‘
til he can exhibit to his subjects a head
secured by his own hand. No dying
person can enter the kingdom beyond
the grave with honor unless ho is accom¬
panied by one or more headless compan¬
ions. Every rajah owes to his rank the
tribute of a numerous escort after death.
—Popular Science Monthly.
An Electrical Riding; School.
It is said that an electrical riding
school is shortly'to be equipped in Paris,
This intention is doubtless attributable
to tho success which attended the open
ing of the electrical riding school in Nice
last year. Here, it will be remembered^
wooden horses were used, and propelled
round tho ring by the power of electric
motors, There was a series of rings, on
which an equal start was made, but th«
relative speed of the horses depended on
the radii of the respective rings, those
inside, of smaller circumference, being
patronized by the steady-going aud older
individuals, while the delights of rapid
locomotion were secured to tho riders on
the outer circles. At the same time the
rider could reduce the speed or stop ffi.
stantly by means of a controling tli^tf|
meat. This refinement of
merry-go-round created quiGM
Nica, aud it seems not
before long it will find
country.— Tirm-Tja
HOW TO MAKE A BRICK*
LITTLE CHANGE IN THE METHODS
SINCE THE DAYS Ox? PUNY.
Machinery Now Does Much of the
Work Building a Kiin—Handled
Seven Times.
Clay pressed into a mould, removed,
sun-dried and then baked. That-tells
*. U - Iron mouldf5 cow ; Stone moulds
men. Every brick made twenty cen
runes a«o was handied seven times:
time! every brick made moulding to-day is handled seven H
In the there
:hange, but in the baking there is none
—and “the baking’s the thing.”
Therc ‘ s scarcely a city in the Union
wlta , 10,000 inhabitants
or more that has
not a brickyard near it. The clayey de
posit suitable for the purpose is found in
section of every State, and is
more abundant on the seaboard than
^* ad -
Tbs metbod pursued at Haver3traw,
N> T Y J< wiU • a general idea of how
. manufactured
rle ? ar e in every brick
. .
> ar *l m me Lni.ed states, and how they
were manufactured before trades unions,
« bodie * of
cr "?, zod r .' eIe ’ dreamed of.
Tbe ? ,, £ brick-making , is interesting,
because; generally being regarded so common-place as worthy of it is studv. not
The o5d En g lish P iaa o! building the kiln
o£ bricks is stlil Pursued, as it was in the
[ ime o£ Hear X ViI£ - aad nothing kas yet
been lnvented t0 tak ® its place. The
selection of the^clay pit is the first. This
umst be a deposit of earth consisting of
aiumilla and silica, with a small propor
ri'on of salts. When there is an absence
0i an X g rea - proportion of iron, magnesia
f,, bme tne de P°sit is more valuable.
H, however, the clay is loose there must
be au addAlon o£ bale a ' 3 a Auv. Atneri
can ciuc-h jpanUiacturers as possible, although seek to avoid it is this as
common
P ractlce tb e brickmaker3 of Lon
don - bri f
“ u ” t 0011318 ' 4
bf f° b ’ jt tbr « fifths silira alu , “ lca . ? 0Be ue ‘ '
/L b ?Z 8f Z u™ b6 “ S
" ork begins . . the , .
m spring as soon as
£be frost is out of tae ground and coutin
ues UB * d frost sets in again. The clay
P its at Haverstraw are within a few hun¬
dred fee t at the sheds, and the clay
after being dug out with spades is carted
to a circular trough where it is thrown
in in layers of one-third sand and* small
proportion of coal dust—one bushel to
sufficient clay for a thousand bricks.
The sand is for the purpose of hardening
and solidifying the baked clay after it
has-reavbt-J s riser of farioa and becomes
cool. The coal-dust is simply to increase
the heat. It is entirely consumed dur
ing the baking and is inixins. given off in gasses,
No water is used in Indeed,
there is usually more moisture in the
clay than the brickmaker cares about,
The mixture, which is about the consis
tency o! putty, is put into the triturating
and moulding machine, and a centrifugal
shaft with flanges branching out driven
by steam, thoroughly kneads and incor
porates one ingredient with another.
The mass is then forced into moulds
which are 8x2^x3| inside measurement,
This is done by steam-power—six bricks
being made at once. These are with
drawn by the moulder, who has a box
of sand alongside of hisi,aod are “faced,”
or- sprinkled with sand. Then they are
either put on a pallet (a fiat board),
wheeled off iu a barrow and placed in
wooden racks, or are put edgewise in
rows ou the ground. At Haverstraw
sheds protect the newly made bricks from
rain. It takes from four to six days for
the bricks to become dry—that is" sun
dried. With a fresh wind they dry m
fifty-six hours. Their color determines
when they are ready for burning.
Building the kiln is the most impor
tant part of the whole process. The
bricks are piled up, edgewise, the first
layer being covered by the second trans¬
versely and the second by a third trans¬
verse layer, and so on until the kiln is
completed. It is then about twenty feet
iu height, thirty-two feet in width and
eighty-five feet in length with the bricks
one-half inch apart. At intervals of
four feet or thereabouts, apertures two
feet wide extending the entire width of
the Iciln have been left, when the fuel
can be put in and fired. These aper
tures are called “arches,” and each arch
has-above it 45,000 bricks, so that in a
kiin eighty-five feet long, containing
twenty-one arches, there would be with
in 5000 of 1,000,000 bricks. An extra
vail of brick is then built outside the
kiln and this is carefully plastered over
with wet clay, so that every crevice is
covered. Then the baking begins by
starting a fire in each of the ^arches
simultaneouslv. This is fed with corn
wood tossed ia by the kiln men, who bo
come wonderfully ex-pert in landing the
stick at any part cf the arch desired.
It takes about five days to bake the
brick thoroughly, and six days-^iore to
cool off. In England, and especially in j
the Nottingham district, the fires are '
kept going for three weeks.
When the kiln lias cooled off prop
erly, the outer wall, which is cracked
and useless, is removed, and the red
burned bricks are tossed down in bunches
of six anti eight to a laborer, who wheels
them to a vessel or flat car.
From the time the clay is dug from the
pit until it is shipped away ia the form
of bricks the time consumed is never less
than sixteen days. Each brick weighs
burning' three and evauoratSi omHialf
pounds. After buraingrfne pounds^
of fflKsturo reduces it to two
From moulder to off-beaver and from off
-bearer to the man who stacks the block
• af clay fat Hcks^y. places itou the ground
iu tows, aud Torn there to the kiln, anfj
from the kiln back to the w
Hid to tha boat or
s
Subscript^: $1.25 in Advance.
vuse words:
When free from folly, we to wisdom
rise.
They that govern most make the least
hoise.
The youth of friendship is better than
its old age.
In learning by experience one must not
count the mistakes.
A good man is kinder to his enemy
than bad men are to their friends,
K “ d wd f - a flowers * ba£ t “J on ?
e3 “ Wl,hout 0waln S a foot of !attd '
Self-will is so ardent and active that it
wilt break a world in pieces to make a
stool to sit on.
It is butter to have a few feeble
thoughts of one’s own than to be entirely
occupied with the ideas of others.
Progress in evil is so rapid and m
evitable that long after one has entered
upon crime he believes himself only in a
passion.
It ^ at our owa will ^ et h 8 r we see
j n the despised stream the refuse of the
street, or, looking deeo enough, the
i mage 0 f the skv.
After ^ thwe u a vast amolmt of
coc , {ort to be tskpn ut of
be , ShSaS h passed the pohrt of de“r
“ ?
° »
A man takes contradiction and advice
much more easily than people think,
only he will not bear it when violently
£ ivea * even though it be well founded,
We spoil everything by hurry. We
are wearing ourselves out as a nation
by our hurry and intensity—too eager
to get a living to be willing to stop to
live.
If the sentiment lent itself as readily
as the material to chemical analysis, we
should be frightened at the quantity of
hatred and contempt that can bo con
tained in the purest love,
Knowledge must precede responsi
bility, therefore the ignorant are always
of the deceit practiced upon
them. It should make the educated man
ashamed of himself to charge crime to
the defenceless ignorant, when he shields
£h ® trim, of his social equal, that know!
edge has revealed to him.
A Physician's Fantasy.
There is a very well-known physician
‘ n town who believes in the transmigra
ti° n of souls. His theories, in fact, are
not unlike those of the Buddhist, who
believes that his soul has climbed to it?
present estate through successive aweli
£q S 3 the bodies oi brutes. The Doctor
£s convinced that during his last incarna
tion be was a cat. Therefore he pays hi*
respects to cats in every manner possible,
Hia house is the asvium or “strays.” He
binds up their wounds, he restores their
coats, he feeds them and pets them and
be has them by dozens. When the house
becomes overrun he will consent to let
“good and reliable” families take
some of his pets. In addition to these
unfortunates the Doctor has some ansto
cratio cats—cats with a pedigree. These
are marvels of bendy and of pride, vary
in color from the one of ebony coat
t0 the light maltese and the tortoise
shell, whose mew is musical above all
others.
The scarf pins of the physician are cats
made out of moonstones or agate, with
iu by or topaz eyes. His cuff buttons are
cats, and a sort of conventionalized cat
presides over his stamp in the blank
leaves of his library books. It is, indeed,
bis coats of arms, and silver and china
both bear it. But the crowning curiosity
is the enormous Persian cat, which,
stuffed in a niche in the wall to remind
iae Doctor of a perished pet. It is but ■
law to say that his admiration for cats is
no affectation on the part of the physi
cian, who is a very sincere and simple
man, but is really the result of a deep
conviction. He has a theory concerning
each of his friends, and the animals
which he considers the ancestors of their
souls are not always those which would
be chosen if one had an opportunity of
choosing. But it is admitted, even by
who have been treated iu the most
unflattering manner, that the observa¬
tions of the Doctor have point, aud that
the resemblance he sees are striking, and,
once pointed out, are destined to haunt
the brain even of the skeptic.— Chicago
Herald.
r "' *
TI »e Rirer’s Bottom Paints the Trent,
The color of a trout's back depends on
the color of the bottom of the river, ac
cording to the American Angler- , but the
trout which grow rapidly differ greatly
in spots and color from those which grow
slowly and thrive badly, and a middle
aged trout differs in generally, color from an aged
trout. Speaking the young,
healthy, fast-growing fish will have sil
very sides, white belly and plenty of well
defined spots. The poorly fed fish will
have few or no spots, a drab belly and
muddy-yel The old trout will
be much theV^, and wkl ’-in be appearance, paftic.ul 3 .rly lank^ only
more so,
and large headed. This accounts'Tor
those trout which have access to salt
water being brighter and more beautiful
than those which do not. The variety
and abundance of their food make them
so.
A Gravitation Clock.
T. G. Farrar, of Columbus, Ohio, has
invented one of the most peculiar clocks
of the nineteenth century. It consists
of a plate glass dial suspended from the
ceiling, and all the parts of it tkta«
visible are the two
Mi n iHtaked ch they swing t'l.c aud|M JB
on
lecej