Newspaper Page Text
luriolitsinllc Reformer.
VOL. II.
(OH! C. M SYCKEL & CO,
Wholesale ami Retail Dealers in
CROCKERY,
GLASSWARE
House Furnishing Goods
Tin-3?late,
Stoves,
Hardware,
&c., <fec.
MANtTTACnUtXRS OF
TINWARE.
No. 116 Third Street,
_____M AOON. (i\. _
CARHART & OURD,
DIALERS M
Hardware, Iron & Steel
WOODENWARE,
Carriage Material,
Cotton Clrss,
Circular
SCALES,
PAINTS, OILS. &c»
1ST noon. Ga
l{ .1 HAVA NT. j 8 w on, jn
DAY4NT & WOOD,
X14 Buy Street.
Savannah., Georgia
Special attention given U> tale et
CQTTOH,RICE & K&YAL STORES
ao**ts rou
DRAKE’S COTTON TIES,
Cash adv&nee* made on eomignments.
W. B. MULL & CO,
Wholesale ar.d retail dealers in
SADDLES, BRIDLES, HARNESS,
Rubber and Leather
belting and packing,
French and American Call Skins, Sole, Har¬
ness, Bridle and Patent Leather,
WHIPS and SADD1.ERY WARE
TRUNKS, VALISES,
Market Square, Savannah, 0a
Orders by mail promptly attended to.
ft. J. BRADDY & SON
WniaiiTSViLLE, Ga
BLACKSMITH SHOP.
A specialty ol Plantation Work. Wagons,
Baggies, etc., made and repaired.
Plows and Plow-Stocks of all kinds, and
every kind of Wood and Iron Work done by
A. J. BRADDY & SON,
Wrightaviiie, Ga.
SID. A. PUGHSLEY, Jr.
A8ENT AND SALESMAN,
-WITH
I. L. FALK & CO •»
CLOTHIERS,
425 and 427 Broome St., New York,
Cor. Congress and Whittaker Street?,
SAVANNAH. GA.
WRIGHTSVILLE, GA., SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 1881.
The Farm.
Open wide the book of nature.
Bring the pine-clad mountains near.
Guardians of fruitful valleys,
Nurseries of Waters clear;
Jhangeless, save when tempests drape them
With their dark and threat’uing clouds,
W hile the lightning rends their summits,
Flashing through their dusky shrouds
In reverberating thunder—
Nature’s grandest organ notes;
In triumphant music swelling,
Through tho concave vast it floats.
Spring is smiling on the valleys;
See, her footprints dot the plains I
Hark ! She calls for honest labor,
Far and wide to sow her grains.
She has come from tropic regions;
Well she loves the vine-clad hills,
Flowering shrubs, and fruitful orchards,
And the murmur of the rills
That enrich tho land in flowing—
Loves the music of the woods,
When thoir wind-harps wake, and answer
Back the shout of distant Hoods.
Hoar tho minstrols of tho forest
Through the leafy places sing,
Whilo tho turf exhales fresh odors,
Quickened by the breath of spring.
Livelier grows tho quiet farmhouse;
Footsteps hasten through the hall;
All tilings feel a newer impulse—
Horses whinny in'thp stall.
Earlier tho farm-yard wakens
With the notes of chanticleer,
Jubilant above the bleating
Of the lambkins playing near.
Yonder, there, the patient oxen
Bow their strong necks for the yoke,
Pleased if he that binds it on them
Adds a kind word with a stroke.
Frolicsome are Tray and Tigor,
Bushing in and out of door,
Chasing lions, and goose, and cattle,
Soiling tho good housewife’s lioor.
Pussy leaves her cozy comer,
Genial spring with all to share;
On the lawn the happy voices
Of the children fill the air.
Rosy morning greets the milkmaid
As she lightly trips along,
Where the lowing kine await her,
Caroling a merry song.
.Vow’s the time for active labor—
Pile the stones into a wall;
Plow the soil in long, deep furrow
Let the harrow le/vel all.
'fields are ready now for sowing;
Hillsides for the generous vine;
Autumn crowns the year with plenty—
Pour the new oil and tho wine.
City calls upon the country
For the grain by which it lives;
Country calls upon the city
For the mental life it gives.
Healthful are these fine exchanges,
Food tot food thus tended hack;
None nood pine for mental culture;
None need starve; there is no lack.
God bless men that seek the farmhouse,
Faithful tillers of the soil;
God bless those that own the acres,
Noble men that pay for toil 1
— Serena, in New York House and Home.
‘CARLINS IDIOT.”
“Raining again!” said Clifton Dn
tande. “ Well, I might have expected
it this shiny, showery weather.”
The woods were all misty with the
tender, budding green of the spring
foliage. Under foot crept the pink,
perfumed stars of the trailing arbutus,
while in sheltered nooks, whore moss
enameled boulders kept off the keen
west wind, and the sunshine poured its
balmly gold, the violets were covering
the dead leaves with their dainty carpet
of blue embroidery.
Down in the ravine a miniature water¬
fall kept up its musical plaint, and a
brown trout stream wound and twisted
among the roots of the trees, so exquis¬
itely transparent that one could see the
very stones and pebbles at the bottom.
It was a picturesque little glen
enough, and Durande was considerably
annoyed at having to fold up his port¬
folio before he had half completed his
sketch.
“ I suppose it is a good mile and a
half to the village inn,” said he to him¬
self. “I wonder if there is no farm¬
house nigh at hand where I can find a
sort of temporary shelter?”
Even as he stood hesitating, and
watching the brilliant fall of the spark¬
ling drops against the background of
purple-black clouds, the bowery screen
of branches was parted, and a light fig¬
ure came down into the path—a gold¬
haired, deep-eyed girl of eighteen, with
a brown calico dress, tiny linen frills at
reck and wrist, and carrying in her
.land a gypsy bonnet, half filled with
wild flowers.
She paused and looked gravely at him.
He lifted his hat with native courtesy.
“It is raining,” said she, gravely.
“ You will get wet.”
“Unfortunately, yes,” he responded.
“ Perhaps you can tell me of some place
near by in which I can take shelter ?”
• ‘ There is Farmer Dakin’s barn,” said
the woodland apparition; “ but it is on
the other side of the river, and
roof leaks like an old sieve. And there
s our house, just over the edge of
hill. I think yon'had better go to our
house."
“If you will kindly admit me there,”
said Mr. Durande, “I am—”
“ Oh, I know who you are 1” said the
girl, with a little deprecatory motion of
her hand, “ and I’m very sorry for you,
indeed; and please,” with a lovely flut¬
tering color coming and going in her
cheeks, “I should like to bo your
friend, if you will allow me ?”
“With the greatest pleasure in the
world 1” said Mr. Durande, waxing more
and more bewildered.
“Then come this way,” said the
nymph, floating gracefully on before,
the purple-black clouds forming a back¬
ground for her exquisite face and figure,
and the trees weaving an arch overhead.
Clifton Durande was no contemptible
pedestrian, but he soon found that he
was compelled to use every effort to
keep up with the girl.
“Give me the country 1” said he to
himself as ho hurried on. “ If this
isn’t real, genuine hospitality I don’t
know what is!”
Across a patch of woodland, through
a pasture field, where young lambs
were frisking and mild-eyed cows lifted
their heads to watch them as they
passed, and up a box-edged garden
path, where'golden jonquils and creamy
clusters of narcissus grew in fragrant
luxuriance, and then they were in the
great, airy, low-ceiled room of the Wil¬
lett farmhonse.
“ I do not know whom I am to thank
for all this kindness,” said Durande, a
little constrainedly. “It is raining
very hard now, and I should scarcely
have known where to find a shelter.”
“Iam Mattie Willett,” said the girl,
with unconscious dignity. “Are you
very tired ? Please take this cushioned
chair—it is easier than the other. Sit
down, and I will bring you some bread
and milk presently.”
Clifton Durande looked around him
in a sort of pleasant bewilderment.
Flowers were blossoming in the win
dows—pink primroses, sweet-scented
geraniums and velvet-pctaled monthly
roses; engravings, framed in pino cones
and rustic work, lmng on the walls; a
bird warbled in its cage, and a blue
ribboned guitar lay on the chintz-cov¬
ered lounge, beside a work-basket full
of swest feminine belongings.
“ Am I in enchanted land?" he asked
himself. “Is this a modern Utopia,
an Arcadia of the nineteenth century,
where wood-nymphs take pity upon be¬
lated travelers, and ail the world is hos¬
pitality ? How fortunate it is that 1
came down to Glitter Falls to sketch,
instead of going to Hayden Mountain !
She is as bt autiful as a dream; and how
stately and gracious her manner is 1 No
one could think of addressing such a
young princess as that save in the most
reverent manner. She says she knows
who I am. It must be then,” with a
little shrill of natural pride, “that the
fame of my paintings and water-color
sketches has reached even this seques¬
tered spot.”
And Mr. Durande, albeit not a con¬
ceited personage, began to comprehend
what real fame meant.
He looked at pretty Mattie Willett as
she came into the room, with a bowl of
milk and some slices of home-baked
bread, with evident admiration.
You are an artist ?” said he.
No,” said she.
At least, you admire fine pictures?”
with a glance at the walls.
“Yes.”
“ Do you draw or sketch ?” he asked.
“Oh, no!”
“ Did you ever try ?”
“No.”
“ How shy she is 1” he thought; “ and
how beautifully her hair grows on
forehead—real Scotch gold in its tints!
I wonder how I shall manage to
her out?”
Mattie Willett might have been
perhaps she was—but she moved
the room with all the quiet self-posses¬
sion of an empress—and as
eye involuntarily followed her, he
came more and more impressed
the odd fancy that he was in an
chanted realm.
“Why don’t she talk?” he thought.
“ I will make her talk 1”
At that moment, however, a
thunderbolt seemed to cleave the
with its force—the air was all
with blue fire, and the rain began
descend in almost perpendicular
and Miss Willett, still moving in
slow, graceful manner which was
tirely devoid of anything like flurry
turmoil, passed leisurely into tho
room.
“ Charley!” she cried out,
as if welcoming some one who had
eutei e 1 from the outer door, “ I am
!
glad you are safe here at last. I have
been so troubled for fear you should
get wet!”
(“Who’s Charley, confound him?”
thought our artist, a sudden chill com¬
ing over the sunshine of his self-com¬
placency. “ And why does she welcome
him in that enthusiastic way, as different
from the way she speaks to me as elec¬
tricity is from snow? She has got a
soul and a heart; she isn’t a mere beau¬
tiful automaton. Who is Charley, any¬
way?”)
“Wet? I?” echoed a deep, cheery
voice. “No danger in the world of
that, little Mat! But who have you got
in the sitting-room? I saw a man’s
head as I passed around the corner of
the house.”
(“Jealous, eh?” thought Clifton,
with a grim smile. “I’m glad of it!
Though, to be sure, when one comes to
think of it, she hasn’t given him so very
much ground for jealousy.”)
“ Hush 1” Mattie responded, lowering
her voice. “ Don’t speak so loud. It’s
that poor fellow from Carlin’s—the
weak-minded young man, you know,
whom his friends have boarded there. I
never have happened to see him before,
but they toll me he is quite harmless,
and when I saw him standing there in
the rain, making no effort to go one way
or the other, I felt sorry for him, and
brought him home.”
“What! Carlin’s idiot?” shouted
Charley, in very evident consternation.
“Yes, Carlin’s idiot, if yon will call
him so—which is very rude and unchris¬
tian of you,” retorted Mattie. “ Bat the
trouble is, now, how to get rid of him.
They say he never will go away unless
you put him out by main force."
Charley, the inconsiderate wretch, in¬
dulged in a low, prolonged chuckle.
“ Now you have it!” said he. “ We’ll
wait a little, until tho deluge holds up,
and I’ll see how I can get yon out of
your dilemma.”
But Mr. Clifton Durande waited for
no such denouement. He, the pink of
Fifth avenue fashion, the mold of New
York form, to be taken deliberately,
and in cold blood, for Carlin’s idiot! It
was too much for any man’s philosophy;
and, catching up his sketching port¬
folio and hat, he rushed out into the rain.
“Perhaps I needed the lesson,” he
said, to himself ; “ but it was rather a
sharp one. Carlin’s idiot, indeed 1”
He got home to Castleton Hall, where
he was tho guest of Mr. Alberique Cas¬
tle, just as a superb rainbow was arch¬
ing the dripping woods, and tho sun
broke in a blaze of glory from the west.
It had been a long, rainy walk ; and
as ho walked he had thought of only
two things—Carlin’s idiot and Mattie
Willett’s fair, serious face.
“How she pitied mol” he said, to
himself. “There was a serene, gracious
compassion in every word she spoke,
every glance she bestowed upon mo. I
might have known it w r asn’t intended
for my own personality—clumsy, con¬
ceited blockhead that I was!”
“ Lilian,” he said, to Miss Castle, that
evening, “have you invited Miss Wil¬
lett to your party next week ?”
“Mattie Willett?” said Lilian, knit¬
ting together her pretty brows. “ Oh,
yes ! She is old Farmer Willett’s grand¬
daughter, and she sings exquisitely, and
accompanies herself with taste on the
guitar. She is a very sweet, cultivated
girl. But what do you know about her,
Clifton?”
“Oh,” said our hero, evasively, “I
have chanced to hear of her in my pere¬
grinations. And who is Charley ?”
“He is her brother," said Lilian
Castle; and then Mr. Durande felt bet¬
ter.
But it was not without a certain mali¬
cious satisfaction that he bowed low to
Mattie Willett (looking lovelier than
ever in white muslin and pale-blue rib¬
bons), the night of the party at Castle¬
ton Hall, when Lilian introduced them.
She looked at him with solemn sur¬
prise, evidently recognizing him, in spite
of his diamond shirtstnds, lavender
necktie and elegant evening suit.
“You see,” he said, with a smile,
“ that I am not Carlin’s idiot, after all.
But I have to thank you for your gra¬
cious and gentle hospitality, all the
same.”
“I am very sorry I made such an
awkward mistake,” said Mattie, coloring
a little.
“But I am not,” said Mr. Durande;
“for it showed me the spontaneous
charity and kindness of your nature.”
And before the evening was over they
were the best of friends.
Mr. Clifton Durande’s picture of “An
April Shower over Glitter Falls ” was
hung on tho “ Sight Line," In the next
I spring's exhibition at the Academy of
Design, and Mattie Willett took an in¬
nocent pride in its beauty, as she stood
in the crowd, leaning upon the arm of
the young artist himself.
“And to think that I, a simple little
coimtry girl, should be engaged to such
a great artist ?” she murmured, so low
that the words could reach his ear
alone.
“An artist,” he responded, laughing,
“ but perhaps not so famous a one, after
all. I shall never forget, Mattie, dar¬
ling, what a blow to my self-complacency
it was when I discovered that you had
mis taken me, the budding genius, the
conscious New Yorker, for—Carlin’s
idiot 1”
“Please—please try and forget that!’
said Mattie.
“ I wouldn’t for all the world!” said
Clifton Durande.
How to Act When Siinstrnck.
In a circular which the New York
board of health publishes people are in¬
formed that sunstroke is most to be
feared if the weather be “muggy.” It
is more apt to occur on the second
third or fourth day of a heated term
than on the first. Loss of sleep, worry,
excitement, close sleeping rooms, de¬
bility, abuse of stimulants, predispose
to it. It is more apt to attack those
working in the sun, and especially be¬
tween the hours of 11 o’clock in the
morning and four in the afternoon. On
hot days thin clothing should be worn
and sleeping rooms kept as cool as pos¬
sible. Loss of sleep and all unneces¬
sary fatigue should be avoided. If
working indoors, and where there is
artificial heat, as in laundries, the room
should be well ventilated.
If working in the sun a person should
wear a light hat (not black, a3 it ab¬
sorbs beat), and put inside of it on the
head a wet cloth or a large green leaf.
Frequently lift the hat from the head
and see that the cloth is kept wet. Do
not check perspiration, but drink wlxat
water is needed to keep it up, as per¬
spiration prevents the body from being
overheated. Have, whenever possible,
an additional shade, as a thin umbrella
when walking; a canvas or board cover
when working in the sun. When much
fatigued do not go to work, especially
after 11 o’clock in the morning, on
very hot days, if the work be in the sun.
It a feeling of fatigue, dizziness, head¬
ache or exhaustion occurs cease work
immediately and lie down in a cool,
shady place. Apply cold cloths to and
pour cold water over head and neck.
A physician should be sent for when
any one is overcome by the heat. While
waiting for him give tho person cool
drinks of water or cold black tea or cold
coffee, if able to swallow. If the skin
is hot and dry sponge with or pour cold
water over the body and limbs, and ap¬
ply to the head pounded ice wrapped
in a towel or other cloth. If there is
no ice at hand keep a cold wet cloth on
the head, and pour cold water on it
as well as on the body. If the person
is pale, very faint and pulse feeble let
him inhale ammonia for a few seconds,
or give him a teaspoonful of aromatic
spirits of ammonia in two tablespoon
fills of water, with a little sugar.
Ice Water,
Ex-Governor William Ross, of Chi¬
cago, has delivered a discourse on ice
water. He said that “ a general reform
in drinking ice water would confer a
benefit upon the public. The constant
and immoderate use of ice water has
become one of the most active causes of
disease all over the United States.
There can be no doubt that it produces
our national disease, dyspepsia, in its
most aggravated forms, and you can
scarcely look over the death list in cur
papers that you will not see a notice of
someone dying of diabetes, Bright’s
disease or some other kidney complaint.
In most cases, you may rely upon it,
ice water is the remote if not tho act
ivo cause of all his trouble. If one
should express the opinion that ice
water is now the source of more dis¬
eases among our leading business and
public men than whisky, a wide induc¬
tion of facts would doubtless show him
not so far from right. Sad experience
as well as extensive observation and in¬
quiry have convinced me of the truth
this assertion.” Ice water had come
nearer costing him his life than any
other cause within his memory.
A citizen of Atlanta, Ga., has in
possession, according to a local paper,
an amethyst recently found in
county, wiiich contains a drop of
in the center of the stone. This is
to 1)0 tho only instance on record of
amethyst so peculiarly formed.
makes it an amethyst of the first water.
NO. 17.
A Little While.
Oh, soul, a little while
Anil thou shall.be released,
And Fortune shall have ceased
To frown upon thee or smile.
A little, little space,
v A few brief months or years,
Too brief, oh, soul, for tears.
Then to thy resting-place.
Oh, wherefore art thou stirred
With weak and idlo rage
To boat against thy cage
Like to a captured bird ?
Bo still, poor soul, be still;
Ho boos the sparrows fall;
Thy woes Ho knoweth all;
Hush, hush, and wait His will.
PUNGENT PARAGRAPHS.
“Silence is golden” sometimes, but
when a fellow fails to respond to a dun
it looks more like brass.
There are over $362,900,000 of na¬
tional bank notes in circulation, and
yet how often they evade our grasp.
There is sleep for tho eyo that is tearful,
A balm for the heart that is sad,
A calm for tho heart that is fearful,
And for every liver—a pad.
“My Darling’s Shoes” is the name of
a new ballad, but the old man’s hoot is
generally considered to be more touch¬
ing.
“The press is mighty and will pre¬
vail,” said the susceptible maiden as
she was being hugged by her stalwart
lover.
One of our young ladies who keeps
an autograph album exclusively for
male signatures, refers to it as her “him
book.”
Eing out wild bells, to the wild sky,
ring out the old joke, ring in the new
trick mule. These are the balmy days
of the circus.
Notice at the door of a ready-made
clothing establishment in one of the
poorer quarters of Paris : “Do not go
somewhere else to be robbed ; walk in
here.”
Difference between tweedledum
and tweedledee. On approaching au
ice cream saloon with his girl he’turned
and retraced his steps. Instead of
treating it was retreating.
“How to Tell Bad Eggs” is the title
of an article in au exchange. When you
have anything te tell a bad egg you
must be careful not to break the shell
while imparting the information.
“ Well, tailor, I'vo conic for my pants,
Expecting they’re not yet begun.”
“ Jour wrong, sir, I’ve scon to your wants,
And the job you will find, sir, is done.”
“ I’m glad you have seen to my wants,
There, there, put that cash in your till.”
“ I will; I’ve reseated your pants,
And also rocoiptod your bill.”
Brush, the electric light man, pre¬
dicts that electricity will soon be stored
for family use. Think of sending your
oldest boy to the grocery store for a
paper of saleratus and a two-pound can
of electricity.
A needle passes through thirty dif¬
ferent hands in the course of its manu¬
facture. Seems so it must hurt a
man terribly to have a needle pass
through his hands as many times as
that .—Syracuse Standard.
The youthful swell is mad and wild,
His very soul with sorrow puffs
Like throats of kids who have tho croup;
In fact the youthful swell is riled
When his immaculate lily cuff's
Slide down into his chicken soup.
—Puck.
Mt. Desert has a strange woman who
tells fortunes for $1 a head. A man
gave her a dollar, and she told him he
was a fool. He became very indignant,
but for what reason we cannot under¬
stand, as we think she was right. She
had his dollar.
Uses of the Alphabet.
A teacher in a school in Louisiana
wished to impress upon the young folks
who composed the spelling-class that,
as many English books as there are in
the world, only twenty-six letters can
bo found in them. She read the fol¬
lowing verse to show how all the letters
of the alphabet can be put to use, say¬
ing that the verse contained all the let¬
ters in the English language :
“ God gives tho grazing ox his moat;
He quickly hoars tho sheep’s low cry;
But man, who takes His finest wheat,
Should lift his joyful praises high.”
Then the teacher told the scholars
to try their hand at constructing a
piece in which all the letters should ap¬
pear. The children set to work, and
one of them at last produced the follow
ng sentence:
J. Gray.— Pack with my box five dozen
quills.
Wonderful as it may seen), tho twen
ty-six letters of the alphabet may l;;e
found in the sentence