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✓ lie Cinciln 11 Hi tx 11 . me J hX L Tur A *r. _ J VOL. VI. A VIRTUOSO. He was far from prepossessing, and they wondered, one and all, How he ever got a chance to answer to his country’s call. >" His gait was rude and shambling and his eyes were small and dim, And annoying depredations wore most always traced to him. But the disapproval didn’t reach its climax till one night, When, bearing an accordion, ho gaily hove in sight; delay And they vowed an awful vengeance to be wrought without I When tranquilly he sat himself beneath the stars to play. But they paused again to listen to the notes so harsh and shrill, And presently the voices that had uttered wrath were still. The instrument was sounding strains that mothers used to sing When childish eyelids answered to the twilight shadowing. That “Ifellie Was a Lady” it would hoarsely tell them all, Fall,” •'And “Hard Times Come No More” and “When the Leaves Begin dismayed to It sang straight to their hearts, and ears that oneo had been it. In sweet remembrance listened as the old accordion played. Ob, happy organ builder, if the creature you devise Can equal those crude harmonies that faltered to the skiesl • Oh, thrice triumphant master, if such plaudits faithful you can violinl win As you rest your loving cheek against your The sternest mood grew gentle as with voices soft and low They joined and sang in chorus those dear tunes of long ago. And their favorite musician will forever be tho scamp Who found the old accordion and brought it into campl STRANGE STORY OF CELESTIAL TELEGRAPHY. | • R'FRF was a little , ‘ j ? old-fashioned safe •• in the depot at 1 • i Dumphy’s Glen, ' but everybody knew . J I that it^ never eon ‘ -- I *' special tain effeanything value. of It faM&b. P served well enough to hold the books and papers of the office aud a little loose change; there was practically no business done at Dumphy’s. If it had been otherwise the station would never have been left in charge of a mere girl like Lena Stearns. squirrels scurried over the verandas; the blew down from the roof in elwy ftorm; the eaves were a hive for wasps and hornets. The streets that had been-'so hopefully laid out led nowhere. “Park avenue” started well, but soon lost itself among bram¬ bles and bushes; its pretentious name hung askdw from its rotting post, held by one rusty nail. The store, however, was still kept up, for there was a little country trade. Mrs. Stearns lived with her daughter in the upper story and man¬ aged to sell-or barter, across the dingy counter, cotton thread, nails,molasses and patent medicine enough to pay the interest on the mortgage and live. Lena, wtio was eighteen, had to do s teething, of course, and as she was unmistakably a bright girl and had mastered bookkeeping and telegraphy position she easily obtained the unimportant of station agent at Dumphy’s, / where she sold half a dozen tickets a week, flagged a train when there was a passenger, and boarded at home. Lena was not only bright and effi¬ cient. but decidedly pretty. This fact had been discovered by John Sturgin, the station agent at Pine Eidge, ten miles above; it was a source of regret to him that he was not the only dis¬ coverer. As ,it. was, he perversely turned his back on tbe well-stocked stores at the Ridge, and did a sus pieious amount of trading at-the Glen. He also did more telegraphing at times than business seemed to require. The wires must have felt a queer thrill as some of those messages puised through them, though the words were as" trivial, and as remote from the sentiment they voiced, as in any other rustic courtship. Though scarcely any money ever •found lodgment at Dumphy’s Glen, a good deal passed through it. About twelve miles below were the great saw mills at Sabine Falls, and every week a’ heavy' cash box was expressed thither from the city to pay the men. The train which conveyed it, however, scarcely ever stopped at the little flag station; but there was one notable ex ception. It was about the middle of March, . and -heayy rains had stripped the hills of their white winter cloaks. “They’re just like folks who lay off their wraps soon, ” thought Lena, drawing her fleecy “fascinator” more closely about ■“Tier neck and shoulders—for the sky had cleared and the air was growing frosty—“They their death look as if they were catching of cold.” She was standing on the platform watching the belated express as it rounded the curve. To her surprise, it slowed and came to a stop, though she had not flagged it. The door of the baggage car slid open and the agent jumped out, draggiug the cash box af¬ ter him. “Shall have to leave this- here to¬ night, ”he*explained. “Bad washout at Tamarack Cr.eek, three miles down, and we can’t getjthrough to Sabine possibly; [orders are to ran back at once. Have Lsdred fey to the mills to send men around the road and they’ll be here soon. “To thine own self be true,and it will follow, as night the day, thou cans’t not then be false to any man.’' LINCOLNTON, GA.. THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 1898. It’ll be all right; nobody else will know the stuff’s here. Come, we’ll put it in the safe for you.” So Lena opened the safe, while the agent, with the help of a brakeman, brought in the box. It was a snug fit, though she pulled out allfthe books to make room for it. Then the men boarded the train, which slowly backed up the line until it was out of sight. The girl re-entered the depot, locked the door, threw a fresh supply of coal on the fire and waited alone for the messengers from the mills. An hour passed, and another and another; at last the hand of the clock stood at 11, and still they had not come. John Sturgin was also sitting alone in the ticket office at Pine Eidge. Thoughts of Lena were uppermost in his mind—a thing not uprecedented— but to-night his head was full of fancies. He knew about the cash box, for he had spoken with the express agent as the train passed through. “I’m afraid the little girl was wor¬ ried about that money,” he mused. “She isn’t used to that sort of thing. But it can’t have been in her hands more than half an hour.” The telegraph at his elbow was tick¬ ing in an uneasy, irregular fashion, but he had scarcely noted it. All at once the signal sounded loudly. This was followed by an unintelligible rattle; even his practiced ear could make nothing of it. Then, after a moment’s silence came words—broken and fluttering—hut to his quick appre¬ hension they sounded like an inarti¬ culate cry. “Oh—Oh—Oh—Help!” Then a confusion of clicks—and again the in¬ strument seemed to cry out: “Oh— Oh-Save—L—” He sprang to the key and tried to telegraph a question, but he could not get any response. The wires seemed badly out of order, He was much alarmed. Something was wrong— horribly wrong—at Dumphy’s Glen. It would not do to waste time. He ran out of the depot. “Look after things, Mac,” he called to the baggage-man. His bicycle was leaning against the building; he had brought it out that day for the first time since winter set in. With a quick push and a leap he was in the saddle, bounding along the dim, frozen road. Dim—yet for mere starlight the night seemed wonderfully luminous. But the light was fitful; there were moments when all seemed buried in darkness. Then the landscape bright¬ ened and glimmered as if the moon had emerged from behind a cloud. But there was no moon. He knew that the moon would not rise until morning was near. The railway circled the foot of the hill, but the road ran straight over the summit. By strenuous effort he had already reached the crest, and the hard driven wheel leaped forward with a fresh burst of speed as if it felt the downward slope. Suddenly the air seemed full of rosy light, as if tinged with the glow of dawn. Though he was now run¬ ning at a breakneck pace he glanced upward. The sky was aflame with the flickering pennants of the aurora borealis. Near the horizon lay a bank of dusky haze, through which the stars gleamed faintly. Above it wavered a pale phosphorescent cur¬ tain, which shivered as if shaken by gusts of wind; from behind which ruddy streamers shot up to the very zenith and flickered and waned and brightened. It was a magnificent display; but as the descent was be¬ coming steeper every moment he was obliged to keep his eyes fixed on the road. He was now rushing down the rough track with a violence that al¬ most defied control. The overstrained tubing gave under his weight to the very limit of its strength; the ma¬ chine heaved and palpitated like a frightened horse and shied wildly amid the ruts and stones that he could not avoid. At a sharp turn of the road he swung out so far that he felt the hind tire slipping on the icy edge, and barely escaped plunging down the embankment; then the depot windows flashed into view. ! After that the bicycle must have chosen its own course, for Sturgin was not conscious of guiding it. For the sash was raised and against the yellow lamplight he saw the dark out¬ lines of a man crawling in through the opening; another followed. The last figure had scarcely dis¬ appeared when his wheel came to a stoop in the deep sand of the station yard. He dropped from the saddle, pnlled a forty-four calibre revolver from his hip pocket and sprang to the window. The depot consisted of a single room; the safe and telegraphic appa ratus were on the farther sjde. In the middle of the floor stood Lena, defiant, with clenched hands and glowing cheeks, looking straight down the black muzzle of a pistol that a huge desperado was holding close to her face. “You unlock that safe right quick, and no nonsense,” he was say¬ ing. “I won’t; I can’t,” cried Lena. The other intruder, a seedy little fellow with thin lips and a hatchet face was by the safe examining the lock. He turned toward the girl : “Ye might as well save trouble,” he said. “We know what’s here, an’ we’re goin’ to have it. This is biz, understand. We shan’t hurt ye if ye behave.” The girl glanced at him with angry contempt. Her blood was boiling. “There ain’t goin’ to be nobody “The to help ye,” the fellow continued. road bridge is down—swep’ away by the freshet—and the fellows from the mills won’t'get here yet awhile. Yer ma’s too fur off, an’ she ain’t no good anyway. We got to have that key, fer we ain’t got any tools handy. Be lively now. We kin be rough if we have ter.” With a sudden motion Lena pulled the key from her apron pocket. The big ruffian beside her snatched it, lowering his pistol as he did so; but with the quickness of a cat she flung the little piece of steel through the open door of the stove, where it slipped down among the glowing coals. The fellow picked up the poker and plunged it into the red-hot mass, but the key had disappeared. With a cry of rage he sprang toward toward the girl, but while his back was turned she had darted across the room and jerked open a drawer. “Throw up your hands, you scoun¬ drel!” The command came in a hoarse roar from the open window. The desperado wheeled, saw a fierce, livid face glaring in from the outer gloom, saw also a leveled weapon, and sus¬ pected more behind. He dropped his pistol and obeyed. Laying his left hand on the sill, John Sturgin leaped through the win¬ dow, with one bound. There is no record breaker like love and anger in things athletic. Meanwhile, the lesser villian was struggling with the fasten¬ ings of the nearest window; but when he glanced over ; his shoulder and caught the glint of another revolver in the hands of Lena as she stood by the open drawer, he desisted. “Give it up,” he said, coolly. “Ye got me, sure, little girl; though how them fellers got acrost so quickly beats me. Now, don’t git narvous with that popper of yourn; I’ll rest easy; an’ I ain’t go no gun, any way.” “Give me your pistol, Lena,” said Sturgin, his voice still quaking with excitement. “Now, you two brutes stand here, face to the wall, hands up. Lena, please send a message through to Grandport for a train and a posse.” She sent the message as she was bidden; but the steadiness was gone from her hand and the color from her cheek. She felt faint; she threw open the door and gazed up the track. The night had grown very dark, though a filmy veil of auroral light still flitted now and then across the starry back¬ ground. At length the rumble of an engine was heard—a welcome sound to Sturgin, whose arms were so palsied with weariness and nervous -tension that he could hardly hold the pistols. It -was just as well that his prisoners, were so placed that they couldn’t see him. Soon, however, they -were in the hands of the Deputy Sheriff and the strain was over. Sturgin sat holding both Lena’s hands in his. “I can’t understand it,” he said. “How did it happen, dear, that you telegraphed me reached for help so long before those villians the depot?” “Why, “I telegraphed,” she cried. I didn’t; I couldn’t. I hadn’t the smallest chance—until after you came, just in the nick of time, and saved me, John.” “Ach!” exclaimed burly Mac, who was standing by. “It’ll be them North¬ ern lights done it, likely. Ye know' what a fiddle-faddle they’ll make ’long o’the wires, an’ set all the floun’ers clackin’. An’ I’m thinkin’, Sturgin, somebody’s whim-whams done the rest.” “It was a message straight from heaven,” murmured Lena. And doubtless both she and Mac were right.—St. Louis Star-Sayings. Borneo’s Idea of Justice. . When the Dyaks of Borneo have to decide which of two parties is in the right they have two lumps of salt of equal size given them to drop into the water, and he whose lump first dis-i solves is deemed to be in the wrong* ^)feta&aeieiei&imaei^eieiei&eteiae^m 1 GOOD KOADS NOTES. I Farmers ami Good lioads. Tlie individual farmer can afford to do road mending on the same princi¬ ple that he repairs his fences and buildings. A land owner ought to feel as ashamed of a choked sluice or a mud hole that can be drained as neg¬ lected cattle or a display of tilth. It is not necessary to wait for the road¬ working season to come around. The most profitable common sense work can be done a little at a time, if at the right time. Drainage is the beginning aud end of the whole matter, if roads are to be roads, not sloughs. Watering troughs and hillside springs are the most com¬ mon cause of standing water, yet it is a very simple thing to train the water in the way it should go. A stone, a loose board, a chunk of mud washed down against the end of a sluice may choke it up so that it is nothing but a public nuisance. Five minutes’ work would send the water rushing through its proper channel. It is not uncommon to see water fol¬ lowing the wheel ruts for rods -when a man with half au eye can also see that a edge mere cut through the ridge at the of the road would lead the water into the ditch or down a bank. Even a half day spent in dropping into a very bad hole a few of the numerous stones that infest the highway, would work a double headed blessing to all who pass that way. Heaving out a few stubborn old boulders would work detriment to the blacksmith and wagon mender, but a big saving to the farmer. If all such patching were thus well kept up, the yearly toll of public ser¬ vice would count more and more toward the good roads of which all are talking and dreaming. This view pf the subject practical is no farming, more than intelli¬ one feature of gent economy, a mere looking out for number one, no matter how many others are also benefited.—American Agriculturist. Practical Road Improvement. It is sometimes said that wheelmen are ready enough to talk good roads, and even to distribute good roads lit¬ erature, but that, when it comes to practical work or making any substan¬ tial contribution to the cause they are found wanting. This, however, is no more true of cyclists than of any large riass in the community, or of mem¬ bers of political parties, for the actual workers are always limited in num¬ bers, no matter how great may be the interest of the body at large. Among wheelmen, however, a very large percentage are actually willing to do active work for road improve¬ ment, but iu many cases they do not know how to go about it or lack lead¬ ership. For those who are ready to assist in the work, the plan of the Georgetown (Mass.) cyclists may be suggestive. The wheelmen of that town have undertaken to improve the condition of its streets by dividing them up into small sections, each wheelman under¬ taking to keep clear of stones and loose obstructions a section in the vicinity of his home. This is direct, practical, and not laborious, aud will insure au improved condition of the streets in at least one respect. If carried out thoroughly, it will show the value of such work and probably lead to larger and better things.—L. A. W. Bulletin. A Maxim in Road Making. Macadam, the man whose name is now used for the characterization of so many roads, both good and bad, once made a remark that has become a maxim in the engineering world. He said: “Any stone that I cannot put into my mouth I w'ould not put into a road.” In this way he set a standard that, theoretically, has been acceptedever since. Practically, mat¬ ters are different. Some of the stones that' enter into the composition of the macadam roads could not be nego¬ tiated by a dime museum boot swal¬ lower. The stones used in building the macadam roads of the city are supposed to pass through screens that determine the maximum- limit, but at a private conference yesterday be¬ tween some members of the Consulate it was agreed that many of the stones now being used are far in excess of the regulation dimensions, and it was alleged that some of the stone being used was refuse stuff that contractors managed to work past inspection, al¬ though previously rejected by the city. —New York Sun. Secret of Bad Roads. Roads are bad because: Tuey are not properly graded and shaped. is provided. Adequate drainage not Repairs are too long delayed. Unsuitable material is used in mak¬ ing them. Too much material is put on at one time. The work is done at the wrong sea son. Too much is spent for material. Too little is expended for labor. The work is done by incompetent hands. Constant supervision is not enforced. Notes of tlie Crusade,. Out-door life is necessary to people’s welfare. Nothing stimulates it more than good roads. Continued hard rolling of eacl layer as it is laid is the secret of good macadam reads. Newspapers in New York State ar< already advocating a State appropria¬ tion of half a million for building roads next year. If the law continues to grow in favor, it is doubtful ij even that sum will meet the demands likely to be made on it. Five distinct rollings are required with a scientifically-constructed mac¬ adam road—the earth foundation must be thoroughly compacted, each of the three layers of stone must be made perfectly firm and hard and the final dressing of stone screenings must be rolled into the interstices. A WAR PARADOX. Marksmanship as Generally Understood is Not. Necessary. “The war with Spain demonstrated one thing very thoroughly as far as it went,” remarked a soldier who wears two medals for marksmanship to a Washington Star reporter, “and that is that marksmanship, as generally understood, is not necessary; that the soldier who has had no practice at rifle ranges makes as effective a sol¬ dier as one who has devoted years to target practice at the rifle ranges. I don’t want to be understood as saying that a soldier can be much of a suc¬ cess who does not knw how to handle his rifle, for it is absolutely necessary that he knows how to shoot. For ef¬ fective service it is not necessary, however, that he should be specially skilled in marksmanship; that is, that he can place bullet after bullet in a space the size of a target ten inches iu diameter. There is no such restric¬ tions in actual warfare. It is only sel¬ dom that there is auy fancy shooting to be done, and iu every case the tar¬ get which is the objective point is a man. Tons and tons of ammunition have been fired by the various regi¬ ments of the National Guard of the States during the past ten years, un¬ der the idea that skilled marksman¬ ship, by its results in actual warfare, would repay the enormous expense of the practice, and the idea was en¬ couraged that the best marksman was the best soldier. The effect of this was bad, in that it discouraged many young men who were not specially skillful in hitting the targets fr&nTTe mainiiig in the guard. When the time for actual service arrived it was surprising how few of the crack marks¬ men of the National Guard entered. All kinds of engagements kept them from going in. Many of them were good, but others trivial. One of the results was that many regiments en¬ tered the service without any of the most skilled marksmen and others with but few. The fortunes of war prevented but a few regiments from doing the actual shooting that was necessary, but those that did draw and get into actual service did well and rendered as effective ser¬ as if they had had their best rifle shooters with them.” Well, Tastes Differ. Dog meat, it appears, was one of favorite dishes of the ancient and young dogs were as pre¬ cious in old times among the Arabs as chickens are among the people of to-day. They were also fond of cat meat. The flesh of a black cat had virtues of curing them of the ef¬ fects of a hoodoo and the evil eye. Fried grasshoppers and scorpions formed a very choice dish, The naturalist Al-Djahey, who lived in the century, speaks of his visit to Arabian tribes of Bassorah and of surprise on discovering that they did not eat grasshoppers. “Neverthe¬ less,” he says, “there is nothing more delicious.” He also says that when went to see his friend, the poet Boobah, he found him seated on the enjoying a repast of roast rat. he had fried lizards. Notwithstanding the almost reli¬ worship which the Arabs pro¬ for the horse, they ate horseflesh, only the flesh of draught horses, that of saddle horses. They ate sorts of mollusks and insects. Arabs were also very fond of black snakes, and they hunted them the time when the reptiles were about to change their skins, the flesh in that season being extremely tender. —Dinners and Diners. Those Troublesome UeEsangs. The mention of leggings recalls an amusing incident. Among the volun¬ teer regiments called out for service in this war was one very good one from Ohio, the men of which had never seen military leggings before. The regulation doboy leggings were issued to them, and they put them on —all with the lacings on the inside of the legs! The result was that, as they marched out for parade, the looped lacings on each leg caught on the hooks of the leggings on the other leg, tripping some of the men up com¬ pletely and making most of the rest stumble comically at every few steps. The volunteer colonel thought that the whole regiment was drunk, and was in a state of mingled rage and consternation, which added greatly to the interest of the occasion.—Boston Transcript. Palestine is to have a daily paper, which will probably be established at Jerusalem by a Mr. Yehouda, a native of Russia and a Turkish subject. NO. 2 IS DEWEY’S BEST M LIEUT. BRUMBY PLANTED FLAG OVER MANILA, A Personal Selection of the Great Nl Commander of the Asiatic Squad] -—Has Made a Good Record ia Navy. m UCUT. Thomas Brumby, to whom fell the honor of ^ being the American! man to| hoist the V flag over Manila, isk. 3K =_. " flag Admiral. lieutenant Deweyjg tn£. ^ His act signalized^ c \Qi the formal posses-i attfll sion of the city tbe territory by the United States, marks the culmination of the opfeta-jr tions whose begun first shot by Commodore paved the way Dewey^i the formal act on the part of lieutenant and caused the promotion! of the fleet commander to the rank of, j-ear admiral. Brumby was assigned; to that duty on the Olympia on Jan uary 3 of this year, when Dewey TO given the Olympia and placed in charjfti of the fleei in Asiatic waters. The detail was made at the request oi Dewey, who had a great liking for the lieutenant. Brumby is a handsome man of about 40 years of age, though he looks five years younger, in eplte of his luxuriant beard. He entered the naval academy at Annapolis in September, 1873, and graduated among the first five in his class. Upon the completion of his two years of sea duty on the Tennessee he was promoted to the rank of ensign November 26, 1880, ? it * % if"? fills m m ■Mm m A Vi m m m I tj I LIEUT. BRUMBY. serving on the receiving ship Franklin in 1881, on tbe Jamestown in 188a Gedney, 1882-85, and Vandalia, 188eij 89. advanced While with to the the rank latter of lieutenant! ship hij was junior grade, and then served tW' years on the schoolship St. Mary’s aei; two more on the receiving ship Ver-i mont. His present commission a| lieutenant dates from August 24, 18® when he was detailed to dutj- on f® tf: New York, after which he ‘served months at the naval observator anl college before he ‘ ucky war was enough to secure his present, hern ojsj the Olympia with Dewey Ancient Roman Hospital Fov 1. bee| A An ancient Roman hospital b' i brought to light at Baden, near uricti the discovery having been’’ m ide»® connection with recent excavations Windisch, the Roman Vindordssa. M contains fourteen rooms, pharm:iceuthg| supplied wlt-i many kinds of medical, and surgical apparatus, the eluding probes, tubes, pincers, ctS mM lzing instruments pins used and even in a ’-aiRng® t-oU|H of safety wounds. -There are also medicini spoons in hone and silver measurinl vessels, jars and pots for ointmerf some still containing traces of t® ointment used. The name Nebraska is an Indiaj rarord. which means Shallow water.; GEORGIA RAILROA -A IV I>~ Connectic^ ns* For Information as to Routes, S® —ules and Bates, Both— Passenger and Fret; Write to either of the undersigned. Yon will receive prompt reply reliable information. JOE. W. WHITE, A. G. JACKS: T. P. A. G. P. A. Augusta, Ga S. W. WILKES, H. K. NIOHO 0. F. & P. A. G. A. x Atlanta. Athei W. W. HARDWICK, S. E. MA' S. A. C. F.. Macon. Ma M. B. HUDSON, F. w coi El _ Miliedgeville, A. S. F. & J Augusta' —. i