Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

{f olninbia HARLEM GEORGIA I'IHI.IHII /< AI7/. )' TH! Mil’. Ballkicl <*• Alk.ln»on, iiidliiirroKH M.IKIMi SoMiS. Till OItK.IA or HOMI Wl IJ» KNOWN < oMI’OHITIONM T»i< l.lHlr Ba< k Parlorti. I’rtrabnis I i.mi Wbl« hl •!>!<• Forth Manx lira nt in* I A Ml or J of Three I'rhnil* AV ho ha* not I iron *n*k<-nrd front hi* Gm pin Ihr early morning hour* by “ "u« jurty of home going reveler" ringing. "Win down upon the Huwnnee Rive, The nulodlou* mu»i< invade* th* half roiiMti aennea like a dream, and the dreamer doe* not redat It He <lo»e«lii* eve* again toliaten motionl* He ha* heard the old *ong many tim< liefore: he ran anticipate every word and note; there I* no novelty in it for him. but he i • not provoked at Iming awakened He baton* dreamily and let* the mode bring Io him thought* of home not the home of hi" manhood, made happy by wife and < hil dren, but the dream home of hi child hood, where moth" r wu There atood iu the city of I’ittdiurg. forty year* ago a cottage nt 'll J’< arl atie. l It waa a cozy homo, with vim covered window* and n broad hearth atone ft waa the home of Charle* I’ Hhira* and hi* mother, familiarly known to her friend* a* “Aunt Becky" Hhira* Charlo" Hhlra* had two particular friend* of hi* own age, Htorn n Fo«tor anil John Hull. The*c men mid been < ompunion* from their Itnyliood, and death alone broke off their frieodahip. Hhira* Wa« a literary geniu- lb »al well edm nl<d, brilliant, and )""■ • -»•■<! of a fertile, active mind He waa ambition* and animated by the nobleat pur|io*c*. For aonie yearn, and nt the time of hi* death, he wa* connected w ith the I’ltt burg < 'omenrrsial Journal All hi* literary work wa* full of merit and many of hi* pnaluctiun* gaimal wide attention He publiahed two (mull volume* of poem*, the lw«l known of which nre "itollar* and l)inie»,”ltei|emption of Lultor," mid “The Iron City." fhc*c he conaidered hi* lieat work, but lie ► Iriingilv refuaed to publicly ack now bilge tin nuthorahip of the booutlful aong* which would have given hi* name, with that of Fo«ter, world wide fame He erred in hi* judg inrnt of the effrot they would prodine, and in hie ambition for higher flight*. cnn»idered them childiah and fooliah Foater wa* a mu*i< inn ami < ompowr. Ill* "old w*« full of the |aietry of Hound. He had a flue. effeminate face mid hi* nature wa* a* noft mid yielding u* -n maiden'*. He waa a dreamer, often *ad and melancholy, mid every bnr of hi* In-autiful, aintple mu*i<' i» marked with the charwteriatic* of hi* nature He found clone aympathv in the tine, poetic mind of Shira*, nod both found «y mpntliy and cm oumgenicnt in the more rugged and aggre**ive nature of (heir mutual friend, Hull. Hull wa* a mechanic, working for hi* daily bread from hi* <*arlie*t Ixrydmod. Vnl'ikr hi* friend*, he had no education, but the clrcmniitiim e* of hi* life gave hiiu ►trong good *cn*e and char judgment. H< w.i*n Inver of the lieautiful, mid hr found much to admire in hi* friend* Shira* and Foster. He had n mu*i< id voice, and Foster, who could not aing, taught him inu*ic He hud a retentive memory, and from Shira* he learned much of literature He be, nme tin critic the production* of Imth In* friend*, mid hi* judgment of a poem or a song wa* to them all auftii lent And no a beautiful friendship existed between thew three in boyhood, in youth and until their early manhood, when BhlrtU till'd. Tin y weie together during all their leianre time, and "many happy hour* they squandered " in " Aunt Becky ' Shira*’little Imek parlor It wa* here that Shira*, in hi* resting moment*, wrote those liemitifid songs to please hi* friend Flatter; it wa* here that Foster eotn|m»pd music for them to please himself and hi* friend Hull, and it wa* here that Hull Mtig them for the pleasure of nil The first song they published wa* "Old Vnelc Mid." Foster sold it ton Pitt* burg house for SIOO. With thi* money he purchased a small piano and placid it in “Aunt Becky " Shira* littli parlor. And on thi* little piano he after ward played music which lia* gone around the world. "Old I nele Neil" made it* appearance about the year IMO, mid imnndiately laa amc popu tar \\ ithin three year* later Shir i- and Foster together produced "Old Folk* at Home," "Susannah. Don't You Cry,’’ "Gentle Annie," "Hani Time* Conic Again No More,' "My Old Kentucky Home," “Massa’s in de Cold, Cold, Ground.’' "Old Dog Tray. ' Willie. We Have Missed Aon." "Conn 'Vlirn Mi Love Lies Dreaming." and other* fully a* popular. It is certain that Shiras wrote the line* of nearly all these Mings, except "Cotnc When My Love Li, - Dreaming " Foster was willing mid anxious to share their authorship with hi* friend Shira*, but the latter often laughingly told Foster that he wa* welcome to all the reputation he would gel from their pub beat Inn I’oor Shiras died when he was twenty nine year* old. liefore lie dreamed that the songs which he had written in an idle fancy, a* a men' partime. would li». in every home in the Christian world. Mr* Jane Swisshehu wrote hi* obituan. He left a young wife and a girl baby Tlii« baby i* now a buxom mother of bnhiew. Foster livid some year* after the death of his friend He went t - \ w A ik city, where he died in IStU tr.-m the effect* of a fall in the Bowery llewa* widely known and very p,pillar Hi* funeral wa* attended largely by the lit erary, theatrical and musical class, , \ choru* of voice* *ang over hi* grave, “Come AVhere My Love Lie* Dreaming CAkwge Tors. TucME is one thing to be said in faro of rxraster*. They don't want the earth. CaapaaMtlaa aad Halaace*. Amnawtoaew nw, ski** ara btu* sn-1 ilaya ar* *1 way* fair: rh« gvnUtwt Vnd Mrda wng *»••' ' i" 'h*ir «r»*n retrest— ■Vhsre shadow" interlacing on tb« mo** A'ork bnaaMon* pattern* a* lhay twin* ari l era** ATial thongl> tha wind* ba k**n and mountain* Whan wa but ibivor in tbn W intry air— Di* Aiea arelffu* and long Jay* soft and fair, Somewhere M omewb*re, •Vhen Summer heat* npfre • n* with thoii glare. Ilia haaiant wind* arr breathing clear and ; eooi, ». t<l hgh/loww | iny r»p >r» the unmoved pcxd— A i.ei* ! liclicnt <i« k thn ayivtii. tnd trn content*'! in Ib* shade. SoeuKrj ftirnnr© hrif4 with parching stare, '•'OflMKii mukl* forbidding, bn»r«’ r ‘. bate, Noquertrh'aas tliirit to rack the -pirit there, Somewhere -mewhere, \ hen wa ere struggling with our loads ol rare, \nd trouble* weigh .i« with thi-ii burden* down \nt| life it but a <h «cit b«r»t an I br..wn- I*he hapnr jyeoplea live in |H»aceful joy «.» avil thoughta to dim with earth's alloy, h fingmah rrowhimc in its tiger lau, Os pain too flerp nml pitiht«a to spare; '.nt nil ]«! veiling pciif «• complete end fair, Somewhere. M»ma « here. ILc) know not trrroi'» grim »n<! stony stare; \o gnefa that Im»w u* to the bitten ninth, \t»i ilia which »»c!rify or stifle mirth; Hut awcet contentment every day and hour, And ir»ixnnfi->ii with it« priceless dower ‘H calm cnjf»yn»ent< bv no vain regret. Fnmc stir» no envies with its trumpet blare, Vnbition hurts not with their work and wear, Hut pehciw-ii governs, and tegiets kio rare, Somewhere. Snrip w tiri e testa like n presence on the air; A i l w hile wt- »t uggle in our constant grief— •>t .r.-k in fi übh <1 things tn find relief— llh v < i in <pii«x where uht<l sunbeams play, Ami gmila -pints guru ! them night and day. t hank <»«wl that though those chains ol ill we m I’iir \ml wenrK'l *• ti'e their trilmlationa bear— We walk in liiilli, iin-l wiut surreawe ol care When fwoetvst iew,u<h each varnc-t pmy« i Somewhere / Kdgar Jone*. THE LOST RING. 1 had a very g.md place at Miss Cal lliorpc'.*. I was always allowed to ail n the little dressing-room opening out of Miss Calthorpe’s own apartment, iml sew quietly by myself. • Stella is such a nice little thing," Miss <'althorpe said. .And you may believe I was very glad of such a goisl situation, after all tha' iny mother and I had gone through with. You see, 1 was edu cated nt a fashionable boarding-school. ! but when my poor father died, leaving his affairs in such hopeless confusion. I hud come home without waiting to graduate. "Don’t be afraid, mother,’’ said I. “I'm sure 1 can teach and support you.’’ But 1 couldn't get a situation as teacher, nor as a nursery governess. Then 1 answered an advertisement for a saleswoman, and got a situation In a fancy store. But I soon found it was wearing me out! So 1 took a place with Miss Calthtirpe, for I was always quick with the needle and had a very fair idea of dress-making. Miss Calthorpe was a great beauty and a belle, and hid a haughty way with her; but she wa* very kind to mo and paid me the fourteen dollars a month as regularly as the day came around. And George Miner was al ways at the corner of Saturday night.* to walk home with me, for I had Sun days to myself in the dear little room where mother sat at her knitting, and the little copper tea-kettle sang on the stove, as if to welcome me home 1 got acquainted with George at the Teachers' Bureau. He was Idoking for a place as teacher of Latin and Mathematics and he succeeded in ob taining a very good one and when he had laid up money enough, and saw his way dear, we were to lie married. So you can easily see that those days in Mias t'althorpe's dressing room were very happy ones for me. For as 1 sew ■ isl 1 dreamed and not Miss Calthorpe herself, going out. night after night, to her brilliant balls and parties, in her elegant silks and tissues, was half so secretly blissful as 1. Vntil the losing of that pearl ring' It was a very valuable one—at least sol was told- a stone of great size and luster and there was nobody but us In the room the day it was lost. "Os course she ha* take:: it,” said Mrs. Nidgett, Miss Calthorpe’s aunt. "Oh, aunt," said Miss Calthorpe, deprecatingly; "Stella is such a good, quiet little thing, and I have always found her strictly reliable ’ "Because she never had been tempt ed," said Mrs Nidgett. setting her thin lips coldly together. So they sent me away' l»esr mother sympathized with me ia my troubles, cried on my shoulder, called M»s Calthorpe a “cruel, heart leas wretch.” and declared we would live en bread aud water until I could get another place. But George Miner changed in his manner, and there was that in hl* look and voice that atung me to the heart. “George." said I, one evening, "speak out; if you think me a thief; say so!" “Well." said George, nervously twirling his thumb*, “since you wish me to be frank, it will, perhaps, be best for both parties. -My situation depends a good deal ujion my charac ter, and I had better not form any ties with a person who has been even sus- : pected. < u sar’s wife, you know I anil he laughed uneasily. I drew off the ring and gave it back to him. But my heart was too full for me to speak a word, and, through my tears, I could see the pained look on his face. For I believe poor George loved me even then. ••Mother," said I, when he was gone, ‘it’s all over now! 1 shall be an old maid, and live with you all my days. You must be husband and children and lover and all to me, mother, dear." Ami 1 felt better after that last shower of tears. In those dreary times Charlie Ellett used to come and sit in our room a deal of evenings. He was in a law stationer' .s store down in Nassua street, and got me copying to do, which helped ns along. And I didn’t know until afterward that he sat up late at night to copy over my first at tempts, which were blirtidering and in correct, rather than dispirit me by criticism. But I got to be quite a skillful copyist after a while, and earn ed a deal of money. And one day Charlie asked me to marry him. "I’ve just had an increase of salary,” said he, “or I shouldn’t venture to ask you. Miss Stella, to cast in your lot with a poor law clerk. And your mother will always be welcome as daylight, in my house, and I'm study ing law at o ld time*, and hope one day to keep you as you deserve." AVhat could I say? Mother likes! Charles Ellett, and -and I didn’t posi tively dislike him; and so I said yes. "But,” I added, coloring up, “you must not commit yourself in ignorance of all the circumstances. They think at Miss Calthorpe’s that I am a thief.” And I told, besides, the story of the pearl ring. "You, a thief !" repeated he, disdain fully, “my lily hearted love!” And he drew from his pocket a little garnet ring he had bought, and slipped it on my finger. "This seals our compact," said he. I Charles hired a Hat in the next street I —a dear, little flat—with five rooms, and sunny windows looking out on the avenue, where mother could sit among her pots of running ivy and monthly roses while I was at my housekeeping, and Charlie down at the store; and sometimes in the thrill of my new-born happiness I almost forgot that I had ever known George Miner. But one evening he called. Mother and I were alone, for Charlie had extra work at the store that week, and he came in just as if nothing had happen ed to mar the happiness of our old re lations. “Have you heard,” said he, “that pearl ring has been found?" "I always supposed it would be, sooner or later," said I, going calmly on with my sewing. "I met Natalie Duwande, Miss Cal thorpe's maid, on the street this morn ing," said he. “It was found in the finger of an old glove that Miss Cal thorpe had flung aside. The ring was most probably drawn off with the glove, and there it has lain these six months. Natalie says Miss Calthorpe has been trying to find your address, “he wants you to come back to your old place.” "1 am much obliged to her,” said I, quietly, "but that is quite out of the question." “I suppose so," said George. “And lam glad of it. It would not suit me for my wife to occupy a menial place, even for a few weeks. So, of course, Stella, things will be with us just as they were before?” 1 shook my head, sesree able to re frain from smiling. “Hardly. Mr. Minor," said I. “Be fore you go any further it may be as well for you to know that 1 am to be married on Tuesday of next week to Mr. Charles Elltjtt.” "Married?" And I shall never for get the look in his face as he spoke the word. And that is my story A little trial —a little love, a little glimpse of sun shine at the last, Is there much else tn the printed books one reads? Can their final chapters say more than 1 can say of Charlie and myself, "And we lived happily ever after?" I think not A good man is the best friend and ■ therefore is first to be chosen, longest ' to be retained, and indeed never to be parted with, unless he ceases to be that for which he was chosen. Bare tishlng. There are 14 varieties of fish to be found on the Florida coast that will rise to the fly, and twice that number that may be taken with a spinning bait, it is only here that the real tar pon, the “silver king," is found. For beauty, strength, speed and la*ting powers he heads the list of game fish. As the royal stag is to the mounted hunter, even so is the silver king to the ambitious angler. He is often hooked, but seldom taken, his size, speed and peculiar tactics usually ena bling him to get rid of the hooks in a few minutes. In weight he runs from 50 to 200 pounds; the average is not far from 100 pounds. When hooked there is no possible way of checking his first mad rush. If checked too hard he will tear his jaws to shreds in his frantic efforts to get rid of the hook. It is an exciting and beautiful sight to see him making straight out to sea with a constant suc cession of high leaps and short runs under thy surface, for, as he darts into the sunlight, he looks like a glittering stream of burnished silver; and he nev er ceases his leaping until, thoroughtly exhasted, he lies supinely on his side anil allows the boat to come alongside. Even then he is to be approached with caution. He is getting his second wind, and on seeing the boat is pretty certain to make a second wild race, but only a short one, when he may be secured, with grapple or gaff, though the better way is to shoot him in the head, which quiets him at once and saves any further trouble. Recently an enthusiastic angler came on the coast with a rig specially gotten up for the torpon, the special points be ing a very short, strong r id, and a reel of the best make, carrying 1200 feet of the best line. lie succeeded in cap turing a tarpon of 100 pounds, and I see no reason why with such an outfit, he might not capture one almost every day during the season. The local fishermen of tlie coast are very successful with the tarpon by "graining,” that is spearing them with a two-tined spear. A spear is made fast to each end of a line 200 to 800 feet long, and the fish is usually strucK from a common rowboat. The handle fits loosely in the socket of the short spear that it may draw out when the fish is struck and ride parallel with the line to which it is made fast by half hitches. AVhat with hard hold ing by the fishermen and towing a heavy boat after him, the silver king generally turns upon his side before the end of the line is reached, and then the boat is cautiously pushed upto him and he is given the reserve grains. If the second shot is a good one his fight is soon ended.— lndianapolis Journal. The Mystery Os Apoplexy. Apoplexy is unfrequent before the end of middle life, because up to that time the cerebral vessels usually retain their integrity, but there is no way in which it is possible to predict the oc currence of apoplexy in a person who has never had a seizure. A person who has once had a stroke is more likely to have another than a person of the same age who has never had one. But the occurrence of one seiz ure does not necessarily imply a speedy recurrence of the trouble, nor, indeed, any recurrence at all. The individual may live to old age without having another attack, and finally die of some trouble wholly un onnected with the tendency to apo plexy. But notwithstanding this pos sible exemption, it is proper and im portant that the person should pre serve as closely as possible a temper ate mode of life, avoiding excesses of all kinds, and adhering as faithfully as possible to that golden mean, which is the exponent of the laws of whole some living. Mental excitement and great bodily exertion must be avoided, but all mental occupation should not be prohibited, and moderate physical employment is one of the necessary conditions of good health.— Good Houstkreping. The Hyena and the Lion. The Hyena had Abused the Lion for several months, to all other Ani mals, without Provoking a Retort, and one day met the King of Beasts face to face aud said: “I have been Abusing you for this Many Weeks.” “Ah! I hadn't heard of it.” “1 have called you All Sorts of names.’ ‘•lndeed”’ “I have Maligned you Profession ally. and lied about you Personally.” "J ust sa” “And you hadn't heard of it?” “Not a word." "And if 1 now Repeat this Abuse to your face?" -1 shall Accept It as Coming from a Hyena?" said the Lion. Moral.—The Lion who Stoops to Cuff a Hyena does the Hyena a great Favor.—Free Press. RUNNING FOR THE TRAIN Laughable Experience of a Would-Be Passenger. Catching the Last Oar of the Train and Getting Left After All. "Talk about missing trains,” said a stoop-shouldered man to a couple ot friends the other day, in continuation of a conversation on that subject; I know it’s most blamed annoying to miss a train under any circumstances, but I had an experience in railroading a couple of weeks ago that capped anything I ever heard of.” "How was that?” interrupted a man who wa* trying to smoke a very short cigar without damage to a very long mustache. "I know how it was,” interposed the other man, w-ho always took off bis hat and run his fingers through his hair whenever he had anything to say. “After a long run you came in sight of the depot just in time to see the train pull out ’’ “And then you dropped your grip and went to spitting out words that would make a dog quit barking,” cut in the other man. I know how it is myself; I’ve been right there more times than I could tell you.” “No, boys, that wasn’t the way of it at all,” replied the first speaker. "The fact is I got there in time, and that’s what rigged me. Missing the train al together would have been apple-pie compared to the annoyance I stirred up by not doing it.” "Do you mean to say that you made the train ?” “Yes.” “AVas there some one in the car you didn’t want to meet?” "No.” “Then, how in the deuce could you be annoyed by making it?” “That’s what I was going to tell you. I had the usual run, but by straining every nerve I managed to get there just in time to grab the railing of the last car, and pull myself aboard after the train had got in motion. It was a long run, and I was completely tuck ered out; in fact I could scarcely breathe. I staggered into the car, dropped into the first seat I came to, and rested my head on the back of the seat in front of me, pulling and blow ing at a bad rate. While I was in that fix, paying no attention to anything, and thinking of nothing but getting back my wind, I’ll be essentially ter minated if they didn’t run that train on to the siding, cut loose the car I was in, and light out as though the very old Nick himself was after them, before I had the gumption to notice what they were up to. There was a a big crowd at the station that morn ing, and I don’t think 1 ever attracted more attention in my life with less ef fort than I did when I left the car." "I reckon you didn't say nothing?” “No, I didn’t even cheep, though 1 can generally toss out a chapter or so of talk with as little preparation as anybody, and sometimes a few off hand remarks seem to do me a power o’ good; but just then, boys, I couldn’t even gasp, and felt as though I had been dumb from birth. But it was just as well, I reckon, for I don’t be lieve anything in the fireworks of speech could have done the subject justice."— Chicago Ledger. Bringing Up a Prince. The Crown Prince of Prussia was always a very sensible man in the management of his household, and he is ably seconded by his wife. On one occasion the governor of his children came to him and said: “Your Highness, 1 must complain of the little Prince; he refuses to have his face washed in the morning.” “Does he?” answered the Crown Prince. “AVe’ll remedy that After this let him go unwashed.” “It shall be done,” said the governor. Now the sentries have to salute every member of the royal family children and all—whenever they pass. The day after the little 4-year old orince went out for a walk with his governor. As they passed a sentry aox, where a grim soldier stood, the man stood rigid without presenting arms. The little prince—accustomed ,o universal deference—looked dis oleased, but said nothing. Presently mother sentry was passed. Neither lid this one give a sign of recognition. The little prince angrily spoke of it to Ms old governor, and they passed in. And when the walK was finished, and ‘.hey had met many soldiers, who none of them saluted the prince, the little fellow dashed in to his father, exclaim ing: “Papa—papa—you must whip every man in your guards! They re fuse to salute me when I pass!" “Ah I my son," said the Crown Prince, "they do rightly; for clean soldiers never salute a dirty little i prince.” After that the boy took a shower bath every morning.— lngleside. A Cool Detective. Highwaymen in the mining states seldom operate upon a stage coach with “U. S. M.” on it. They know that these initials stand for the United States mail, and are a pledge that the whole power of the government will be used to capture them. The detectives in the government service are quiet men, courteous in manner and gentle in speech. Mr. Hayes tells, in his book on “New Col orado,” of one whom he met who wore gold spectacles, and looked like a Ger man professor. Yet this man alone took two mail robbers from the north of Texas. At one place their friends planned a rescue. He quietly inform ed his prisoners that, while their friends could undoubtedly kill him, they might be sure that the first mo tion would send them both into eterni ty. Not a man in the crowd moved a finger. On one occasion, a celebrated detec tive was on a stage which was attack ed by two masked men. The first he knew was that two revolvers were thrust in the coach's window, with the command, “Hands up, gentlemen. The highwaymen "had the drop” on the passengers, which, in their vocab ulary, meant the certainty of their be ing able to kill before being harmed themselves. To his disgust, the detec tive was compelled to give up his watch and money. As the robbers left, he put his hand down in the “boot,” and to his delight it touched a carbine. Asking the driver to go on a little further, and then stop and wait for him, he went back alone. The two men, unsuspicious of dan ger, were “divvying up” the spoils in the middle of the road. This was just what the detective had calculated on. “Now, you scoundrels, it’s my turn,” he shouted, covering them by the re peating carbine. “Throw up your hands or I'll shoot.” The robbers, at his command, stepp ed one side, holding up their hands, while he picked up their revolvers. It was not many minutes before the as tonished passengers saw the highway men walking down the road, with the cool detective following. They were taken in the coach and finally lodged in jail. The hero was General Charles Adams, who subsequently went alone among the Utes and secured the re lease of the women captives from the AVhite River agency.— Hall's Journal of Health. Hints About Horses. Bad driving will often fatally injure a horse in a few miles; while skillful driving would make the journey in less time and leave the horse as fresh as when he started. Drive slow when the animal is full of food and water; but after the muscles are limbered and the system emptied, increase the speed. Then check up and let the horse cool off before stopping, and there will be less danger of taking cold and of stiff mus cles and less necessity for rubbing down; and make good time on level ground and on moderate descents. Never keep the same gait and speed for a long time, for a change of gait is equivalent to a rest. Never ride a horse without first making his acquaintance and securing his good will. Go to his head, speak kind, pat him, look him in the eyes. AVhether you are a friend or foe, he will judge by your voice, your eye and your breath. Horses judge a man as quickly as a man does a horse. Feed and water abundantly at night after work and the animal has had time to rest and cool off. Feed moderately in the morning or before work. Partha ins and Arabs prepare their horses for hard drives by fasting rather than feasting. More horses are injured by hard driving on a full stomach than by any other process. Never let a horse eat or drink much when it is hot from work. Study youi horse, treat it ac cording to its nature, make it your friend, and it will do better and safer service. Born that AVay. “AVell, Ethalinda De AViggs, I don’t see how you could go and engage yourself to that old Slimpkins. AVhy, he hasn’t a tooth in his head,” ex claimed Miss AYiggs’ dearest friend, when she heard of the engagement. “AA’ell, dear,” was the reply, “you mustn’t be too hard on him on that account, for he was born that way.” “AVas he ? I didn't know that, or I wouldnn't have said anything about it,” was the sympathetic response. —Pittsburg Chronicle. AVhere “Adirondacks” Came From. In treating of the Adirondacks the new “History of Essex Cpunty,” says in an explanatory foot note: "This Indian name is derived from Iroquois words, *Ga-ron-dah’ (trees) and ‘Ha des’ (they eat). Hence the word ‘Ha de-ron-dack’ (wood or tree eaters).”— Saratoga Journal.