Newspaper Page Text
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YOL. II.
JO! C. m STCKEL & CO,
Wholesale and Retail Dealers in
CROCKERY,
GLASSWARE,
House Furnishing Goods
T in-jPlate,
Stoves,
Hardware,
<fcc.. <fcc.
uAwwtmamm or
TINWARE.
No. 116 Third Street,
MAODN. GA.
CARHAHT & OURD,
DKALBB8 111
Hardware, Iron & Steel
WOODENWARE,
Carriage Material,
Cotton Gins,
Circular Saws,
SOALE8,
cr=3 i
PAINTS, OILS, Ac.
Mnoon. On.
k. j. MVAirr. J » W( OV, JK
DAY ANT & WOOD,
114 Stro«t,
Savannah, Georgia,
apeeiil attention given to wlc ol
C9TT0H,R1CE & NATAL STORES
▲atom rox
DRAKE’S COTTON TIES,
Casa alv.uou* mailt us* ecctifumeute.
W. B. MULL & CO.
Wholesale and retail dealers in
SADDLES, BRIDLES, HARNESS,
Rubber and .Leather
BELTING AND PACKING,
Frenoh and American Call Skins, Sole, Han
ness, Bridle and Patent Leather,
WHIPS akd SADDI.ERY WARE,
TRUNKS, VALISES,
Market Square, 8arannali, 6a
Orders by maO promntlv attended to.
A. J. BRADDY & SON
WRIGHTS VILIJS, GA
BLACKSMITH SHOP.
A specialty of 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. .T. BRADDY & SON,
Wrightsvilie, Ga.
SID. A. PUGHSLEY, Jr.
AGENT AND SALESMAN,
—WITH
I. L. FALK & CO •»
CLOTHIERS,
425 and 427 Broome St., New York,
Oor, Congress and Whittaker Street's,
GAVAMNAH, GA,
WRIGHTSVILLE, GA., SATURDAY, OCTOBER 15, 1881.
A Little Elbow Room,
Good-morning, don’t crowd so very tight,
Thero’s room enough for two;
Keep in your mind that I’ve a right
To live as well as you.
You’re rich and strong, I poor and weak;
But think you I presume,
When only this poor boon I ask—
A little elbow room?
’Tis such as you, the rich and strong,
If you had but the will,
Could give the weak a lift along,
And help him up the hill.
But no—you jostle, crowd and drive.
You storm, yon fret and fume;
Are you the only man alivo
In want of elbow room?.
, But thus it is on life’s rough path,
Self seems the god of all;
The strong will crush the weak to death;
The big devour the small.
Far better to be a rich man’s hound —
A valet, serf or groom,
Than struggle with the mass around,
When we’ve no elbow room.
Dp heart 1 my boy, don’t mind the shocks;
Up heart, and pass along 1
Your skin will soon grow tough with knocks,
Your limbs with labor strong.
And there’s a hand unseen to aid,
A star to light the gloom—
Up heart, my hoy 1 nor he afraid,
Strike out for elbow room.
And when you see amid the throng
A fellow-toiler slip,
Just give him, as you pass along,
A bravo and kindly grip.
Let noblo deeds, though poor you be,
Your path in life illume,
And with true Christian charity
Give others elbow room.
In struggling on with might and main,
An altered, hotter man,
Grow wise with many a by-gone pain,
And many a broken plan—
Though bruised by many a luckless fall,
And blinded by the gloom,
I’ll up and soon redeem it all
But give mo elbow room.
PHILIP’S PRIDE.
‘ You don’t seem very glad of my goc d
fortune, Philip,” said pretty Rose Elli¬
son, in a disappointed tone, and with
something like a pout of vexation on
her rosy lips. “ When first the news
came to me that Uncle George, whom
I had never even seen, bad died and
left mo $20,000, it ,was you of
whom I thought first of all. For—said
I to myself—‘poverty will no longer
separate us!’ Surely you know”—she
came closer to her lover’s side, and
slipped a fair little hand into his—
‘surely you know that what is mine is
yours, Phil!”
Philip Severn looked down at the
lovely pleading face, and softly caressed
her bright linir.
“ That cannot be, my darling,” said
he, with a bitter sigh. “ A penniless,
struggling artist —who scarcely earns
bread and butter yet—is no match for
you—less now, now that you have this
money, than before. We still must wait
until fortune smiles on me, dear; until
I am able to provide a home for my
wife.” Then, noting the tears that
sprang to the tender eyes, and how the
bright smile died. “ Don’t discourage
me, my darling; do I not long to claim
you ? Is not my life a hard nad a lonely
one ? Don’t I long to gather my lovely
Rose, and wear her in my hea 't forever,
to sweeten and brighten life ? But I
should feel like a dependent on my wife.
It would wound my pride; destroy my
self-respect—we should not be happy,
dear, believe me. It is but for a little
while, my darling,” he added, tenderly.
“The picture on which I have built
such hopes is almost finished, and it will
—it must bring me wealth and fame.
We will not wait for the wealth, dear;
only let me see my way to success as¬
sured, and I will come and claim your
promise to be my precious wife.”
In this hope they parted. The Acad¬
emy would open in a few weeks, Philip
told Rose, and he worked night and
day to complete the picture which was
to be for him the first step toward suc¬
cess. If it had depended oh his exer¬
tions alone that success would have
been assured, for the merit of the paint¬
ing was indisputable; bnt alas, other
people had much to do with it—the
committee that decided how the picture
should be hung had the power to either
make or mar his fortunes, and they
marred them!
He walked through the rooms, look¬
ing around eagerly, anxiously, and for a
while vainly, too. Surely, he thought,
with sickening disappointment and
wildly-beating heart, surely there had
been some strange mistake, and his
painting was not there. Ah! yes—there
it was ! With difficulty he suppressed
a cry of rage and anguish—there it was ;
hung up on high, in an out-of-the-way
corner, and in the worst possible light,
where no one would give it any special
notice, and he himself had hardly been
able to find it at all; he turned away,
heart-sick and despairing; his efforts
had been nullified, his hopes were
blasted, his future rained; he went
home—if his poor garret could deserve
tho name—and, half crazed with disap¬
pointment, wrote to Rose:
“ I have failed. I refuse to bind you
to a life which can be nothing now bnt
poor and miserable. Failure and pov¬
erty are bad enough for myself; I will
not drag you down to thorn. Farewell)
my love, and forget one who never will
forget you—either in life or death.
“ Philip.”
He thought that death was on him'
while he wrote. Privation—for he was
very poor— hard work, suspense, excite¬
ment, disappointment, had done their
work. As he sealed tho letter it fGll
from his fingers to the floor, and his
aching head dropped heavily on the
table—he had fainted.
* *
Next morning a certain picture dealer
on Broadway received a visit from a
lady. She asked him had he been at
the exhibition of the night before, and
had he noticed a certain picture. The
dealer confessed that ho had not seen it.
“Iam not surprised at that,” said the
lady, calmly, “ for they have hung it as
if to prevent its being seen. It is beau¬
tiful, however, and I desire to purchase
it.”
She handed him a cheek for a thou¬
sand dollars.
“Will you transact the business with
tho artist for me without suffering my
name to appear? And I wish more than
this. I want you to do what the exhib¬
itors have not done—bring this artist’s
merit before the public properly—ex¬
hibit my picture in your own rooms and
windows, and make it known. Money
is no object, Mr. Brown—if you will
only buy the picture for mo and make
it famous (if you find it worthy) after¬
ward.
Tho matter was speedily arranged
Mr. Brown agreed to do all that was
required of him. He saw the picture
and pronounced it—in spite of tho dis¬
advantages of its position—“admi¬
rable,”
“I’ll call upon tho artist this after¬
noon,” said he; and so ho did.
“ Mr. Severn was ill,” the frowsv
servant girl who admitted him informed
him; “ and if you’re any friend of his,
missus’ill be glad,” she added, “for
something’s got to be done; he’s quite
out of his head; a moaning and a call¬
ing for ‘ Rose ’— whoever she is—and
there ain’t nobody to wait upon him
here, poor soul, and missus talks o
sending him to tho hospital. If you
know anything about who ‘Rose’ is,
you’d better send her to him.”
Mr. Brown made his way upstairs to
the sick man’s room. Philip lay, as the
girl had described, delirous, and tossing
in fever, Mr. Brown took in all the
miserable poverty of the room, and in a
glance read the artist's sorrowful story
—ho was a kind-hearted man, and it
touched him.
“He has gone through a long and
bitter straggle here,” he mused, “and
the way they hung his picture has given
him a finishing blow. Poor fellow!
So gifted too; it’s a shame; and now,
when fortune begins to smile on him,
he’s too ill to know it. Has he no
friends, I wonder ? And who is ‘ Rose ?’
His handsome young patroness might
find that out, if I tell her his position—
she seems to be eccentric and rich.”
Just then his eyes fell on a letter on the
floor and he picked it up. “To Miss
Rose Ellison,” he muttered, reading
the address. “ By Jqvc, the very name!”
He glanced at the restless figure on the
bed, and a light of sudden comprehen¬
sion flashed into his shrewd eyes. “ I
fancy I’ve stumbled upon a very pretty
little romance here,” thought he; “ I’ll
deliver this letter to her myself I”
Two hours later poor Philip had been
removed from his garret to a large and
comfortable room, and Rose was in at¬
tendance by his side. For weeks she
nursed him, as he hovered between life
and death, until one day he slowly
opened his sunken eyes and fixed them,
with the light of reason in them once
more, upon her face. “ Rose !” he said,
oh, so faintly. “Rose—my darling!’
and Rose fell down upon her knees and
thanked God, for she knew that her
lover was restored to her.
“ Your picture is sold,” she whispered
to him, softly. “Mr. Brown, the
dealer, bought it, and it is to go upon
exhibition in his gallery as soon as the
academy closes. And he has called at
tention to it, dearest; and the papers
have mentioned it with favor; and ho
has recommended you among his cus¬
tomers, and has orders for you, as soon
as you are well enough to work again;
and, oh, Philip, you will be a great
artist after all, and you must unsay
those cruel words in your letter. Not
share Jyour life, with mo! Why, to
whom bnt to me does your life belong ?
The doctor says that iny care has saved
it. So many terrible, anxious weeks I
have nursed you, and will you refuse to
marry me after all ?” She nestled close
to his side, laughing and crying at once
for love and joy. “Please say once
more that I shall be your wife, my dar¬
ling !”
Ah, how willingly he said it I “You
are coaxing me to my "own happiness
more than yours, my beloved,” he said,
faintly. “ But if this be so—if there is
work for me to do, so that I shall not
come to my wife a pauper—dear little
faithful love of mine, let ns be married
at once!”
And so they were, on the very next
day, and Mr. Brown gave the brido
away. He also handed thejartist one
thousand dollars.
“The price of your picture,” said he,
quietly; “ and mark my words, it went
too cheap; it will be worth twice that
some day.”
Philip turned and gave the money to
his bride.
“Our purse is in common hence¬
forth," said he. “ As for my picture—
God bless the purchaser, and that is
yourself, is it not ? Or if you only pur¬
chased for another party, may I not
know my benefactor’s name? for, in¬
deed, he was to me a benefactor.”
But Mr. Brown only laughed, and
turned to Rose.
“ Shall we tell him his patron’s
name ?” said he, roguishly.
She camo suddenly and knelt by
Philip’s side, and twined her arms
around his neck.
“Philip, my husband,” r.lio said,
humbly, “ forgive mo that I was the
purchaser! Mr. Brown says the picture
will be worth much more some day, and
even now he offers to buy it from me,
but I cannot part with it! I cannot
boar that a stranger should have it,
dearest! You will paint others—let
thorn be sold, but, love, let me keep
this 1”
Philip lay very still a little while, and
then he turned and clasped and kissed
her.
“ I understand,” ho said, softly. “ My
wife, your lovo has conquered my pride;
henceforth we will work hand in hand
together!” Thou ho turned half timidly
to Mr. Brown. “Tell mo tho honest
truth,” said he. “Would any one but
my wife have bought that picture?”
“Notas it was hung,”said tho dealer,
frankly. “ It couldn’t be seen, much
less bought. But I’ll find you pur¬
chasers now, if you choose, or take it at
my own risk to-morrow! Here are
orders for two such paintings. You
wanted, my dear sir,( what many an
artist has wanted before you—some one
to find you out. Here,” pointing to
Rose, “ hero is your discoverer! God
give good luck to both of you !”
They had good luck, and much hap¬
piness. The artist is rich to-day, and
the famous “first picture ” that called
the world’s attention to his genius hangs
—in tho best, of all possible positions
and lights—in his fair wife’s drawing¬
room.
It is )wortb a great deal more than a
thousand dollars now, and Rose horsclf
would not take all tho money in tho
world for it. Sitting with her children
around her, she tells them its history
sometimes—the history of the days of
poverty which they have no knowledge
of, of their father’s straggle and despair
—of her own loving stratagem, and
how, by love, she conquered Philip’s
pride.
_
Curiosities of the Earth.
At the city of Medina, in Italy, and
about four miles around it, wherever
the earth is dug, when the workmen ar¬
rive at a distance of sixty-three feet
they come to a bed of chalk, which they
bore with an auger five feet deep. They
then withdraw from the pit before the
augur is removed, and upon its extrac¬
tion the water bursts through the ap
perture with great violence, and quickly
fills the newly-made well, which con¬
tinues full, and is affected neither by
rains nor drought. But what is the
most remarkable in the operation is the
.layer of earth as we descend. At the
depth of fourteen feet are found the
uins of an ancient city, paved streets,
houses, floors and different pieces of
mason work. Under this is found a
soft, oozy earth, made up of vegetables,
and at twenty-six feet large trees, with
the walnuts still sticking to the stem,
and the leaves and branches in a per
feet state of preservation. At twenty
eight feet deep a soft chalk is found,
mixed with a vast quantity of shells,
and the bed is two feet thick. Under
this vegetables are found again.
The Blue Glass Theory Again,
Professor Schlager, director of a
noted insane asylum at Vienna, an¬
nounces tho result of experiments made
by him in relation to the blue glass
healing theory, which at one time at¬
tracted so much attention in America as
well as abroad. He had a room fur¬
nished with windows of blue glass, and
had the walls painted of the same color.
He then selected sixty persons who
were moro or less deranged mentally,
and made them tho subjects of experi¬
mentation for a period of three years,
placing them at selected times in the
blue room and carefully noting the ap¬
parent effects upon them. He discov¬
ered that tho abnormally aroused and
excited temperament experienced a re¬
markably soothing and quieting influ¬
ence in the blue light, and he expresses
the conviction that with persons thus
mentally deranged, with whom every
other method of treatment has failed,
this should be tried. Ho does, not re¬
port any complete cures made by this
means alone, but says that in most
cases the treatment has proved bene¬
ficial, and that if continued systematic¬
ally and persistently, tho indications
are that it will lead to complete restora¬
tion. In no case did it work injury. He
expresses the intention to continue his
experiments, and calls upon all asso¬
ciates and colleagues in the treatment
of the insane to do the same, and make
careful notes of their observations.
Professor Schlager has also made valu¬
able and interesting experiments in
treating deranged persons of abnormal¬
ly depressed or sluggish and apathetic
temperaments by exposing them in a
similar manner to red light. His con¬
clusions seem to bo based upon careful
and scrupulous study and observation,
and are attracting attention.
Two Thousand Men Looking for Gold.
There are at this time scattered
through the mountains of California
two thousand prospectors. Their lives
are spent in looking for signs of gold.
They are poor, and their dress proclaims
it. They live on hope and scanty food,
and never refuse to “take somothing.”
Pick in hand, their sharp eyes are quick
to spy a speck of gold in the fragment
of quartz turned up. The country is
covered with their little trial shafts and
with stakes marking their pre-emption
claims, always 1,200 feet along the sup¬
posed outcrop of tiie vein. Of 1,000 so
marked perhaps one or two may amount
to something, and one in 1,000 of these
adventurers, after a life of privations,
may succeod in realizing a small com¬
petency. But they average happier
lives than most people. They imagine
themselves prospective millionaires. A
bit of quartz with three specks of gold
seen through a magnifying glass sets
them wild. There’s millions in it. But
their gypsy life and its happier excite¬
ment unfit them for quiet enjoyment.
In age some give it up and go back to
the wilderness and to the excitement of
prospecting adventure. —San Francisco
Letter.
Language of the Hair.
Each of our features is supposed to
have a language—eyes, nose and mouth.
But the language of tho hair has been
formulated in the following manner:
Straight, lank, stringy-looking hair in¬
dicates weakness and cowardice. Guriy
hair denotes a quick temper. Frizzy
hair set on one’s head as if each indi¬
vidual hair were ready to fight its neigh¬
bor, denotes coarseness. Black hair in¬
dicates persistent resolution in accom¬
plishing an object, also a strong predis¬
position to avenge wrongs and insults
real or fancied. Brown hair denotes
fondness for life, a friendly disposition,
ambition, earnestness of purpose, ca¬
pacity for business, realiabilitv in friend¬
ship in proportion as the hair is fine
Very fine hair indicates an even disposi¬
tion, a readiness to forgive, with a desiro
to add to tho happiness of others. Per
sons with very fine light brown or au¬
burn hair, inclined to curl or frizz, are
quick tempered, and.are given to resent,
ment and revenge.
A Happy Home.
What is sweeter on this earth than a
happy home—a home where lovo is law,
and discord is unknown ? Such a place
is a retreat from trouble and care—a
resting-place for the weary, a fountain
of joy where thirsting hearts may find
all they crave, a blessed spot where
memory loves to dwell. If you havo
such a home, prize it as you prize the
noblest of treasures. If your home is
not happy, try, by forbearance and gen¬
tleness and affection, to make it so
The happy home is the noblest product
of earth, and the vestibule of heaven,
— Our Young People.
NO. 22.
SCIENTIFIC SCRAPS.
Soda put into sea water makes it fit
for washing clothes.
The nearer a rain-cloud is to the
earth, tho larger the drops.
Under-shot wheels require a much
larger body of water than over-shot.
The diamond is rather more than
three and one-half times heavier than
water.
Leeches may be induced to bite more
readily by bathing the surface to which
they are applied with milk.
A body which weighs one pound at
our equator would weigh five ounces
six drachms at that of the planet Mars.
The largest bituminous deposits in
the world aro in Asphaltic lake, or Dead
sea, in Judea, and Tar lake, in Trinidad.
Pencil marks can be rendered indeli¬
ble by dipping the paper in skim-milk
and ironing on the wrong side after dry¬
ing.
Paper can be made transparent by
spreading over it, with a feather, a very
thin layer of resin dissolved in alcohol,
applied to both sides.
We cannot determine the sound of a
string which makes less than thirty
vibrations per second, nor of one which
makes more than 7,552.
The icebergs of the Southern hemi¬
spheres are much larger than those of
the Northern, and frequently attain a
heighth of one thousand feet.
The diamond is the purest crystal
carbon found in nature. Plumbago, of
which lead pencils aro made, is the
next purest. Coal is crude carbon.
A good microscope may be made by
boring a small hole in a piece of tin
and filling it with one clear drop of tho
balsam of the common fir. It will mag¬
nify seventy-five diameters.
Nitrate of soda has been found in ex¬
tensive beds near Brown’a Station,
Nevada. Tho bulk of the supply has
hitherto como from South America. It
is largely used for curing moats.
Tho Magnitude of the Rag Trade.
Tho Paper World says that few per¬
sons have an adequate conception of
tho magnitude and importance of tho
rag trade in this country. Rags seem
to bo so cheap and insignificant a com¬
modity that it is surprising to learn
that, with tho exception of the .staple
products of tho West, they are more
largely transported bv tho railroads than
any other article of merchandise. At
Chicago the Michigan Central railroad
has erected a special building for this
kind of freight, and it is estimated that
not loss than ono hundred car-loads of
rags leave and enter Chicago daily. A
good idea of the extent of the trade was
recently given a Chicago Tribune re¬
porter by a wholesale rag dealer. Said
tho latter: “ There are fifty millions of
people in the United States, and it is
safe to presume that every one of them
discards, on an average, of five pounds
of clothing every year. That gives us
250,000,000 pounds of rags to start
with. Then there aro the tailoring
establishments, big and little, whoso
cuttings are not much less in quantity
in tho aggregate than the cast-off clothes
of the nation at large, while their qual¬
ity, as rags, is greatly superior. Then
there aro the carpets, and bedding, and
curtains, and other domestic articles of
cloth of some kind, which make up a
goodly bulk in the courso of u year.
These different articles combined make
up another two hundred and fifty mil¬
lion pounds of cloth material which has
been discarded from use, and which
eventually finds its way into the rag¬
man’s bale.”
Right to the Point.
The impression largely prevails that
what is given to a minister for perform¬
ing the marriage ceremony is given by
courtesy—and generally the officiating
gentlemen themselves are shy of fixing
their fees, and calling them “ wages.”
But now and then one is found who is
less delicate and more definite.
A minister out West, who has been
troubled a good deal over marriage
fees, issued the following circular and
price list: “One marriage, plain, two
dollars. Ditto, kissing the brido, three
dollars. Ditto, trimmed with one
groomsman and one bridemaid, four
dollars; fifty cents extra for each addi¬
tional groomsman or bridemaid.
“ Bachelors past forty will be charged
extra. Maid of same age, ten per cent,
off. Mileage will be charged in long
distance matches. Liberal reduction
to clubs. Payments in cash; no notes
or securities accepted. No money re¬
funded, or rebates made for poor goods,
Como early and come often,”