Newspaper Page Text
VOLUME VII.
PROFESSION* L CARDS.
Lawyers.
JJOBEBT A. MASSEY,
Attoi ney at Law,
Douglasville, Ga.
(Office in front room, Dorsett’s building.)
Will practice anywhere except in the County
Court of Douglas county.
yy~A. JAMES,
Attorney at Law,
Douglasville, Ga.
Will praclice in all the courts, State and
Federal. Oflioe on Court-house Square.
yy M. T. ROBERTS,
Attorney at Law,
Douglasville, Ge.
in all Ihe courts. All legal bus
iness will receive prompt attention. Office in
court-luw.
0 D. CAMP.
Attorney at Law.
HMKjdC'ivil Engineer and Surveyor,
Douglasville, Ga
t) GL GRIGGS,
At Lomey at. Law,
Douglasville, Ga
Will pi actice in all the courts, State and
Feders I.
JOHN M. EDGE,
Attorney at Law,
Douglasville, G«
imwißMw 1111 '
Will practice in all the courts, and prompt
yattemi to all business entrusted to his care.
J 8. JAMBS.
Attorney at Law,
Douglas i 1 1e, Ga
Will praetio* in the courts of Douglas,
Sfisttiplw, ( arroh, I’aakllDK. Cobb, Fulton
amt
•J ' • ..•••’••J
< A tormo ...
F doctors.
JJR. T. R. WHITLEY,
Physician and Surgeon.
Douglasville, Ga.
Bpeoial attention to Surgery and Chronic dis
eases in either sex.
Office up stairs in Doi-sctt’s brick building.
J) 8. VERDERY,
Physician and Surgeon,
Office at Hudson A Edge’s drugstore, where
he can be found at all hours, except when
professionally engaged. Special attention
given to Chronic eases, and especially all canes
that have been treated and arc still uncured.
Jan 13 ’«& ly
J B. EDGE,
Physician and Surgoen,
Chronic diseases of all kind given sneoial
attentton.
Office at the Drugstore of Hudson A Edge
Broad street, Douglasville, Ga,
Demise.
!J1 B. COOK,
Dental Sargeon.
Has located in Douglasville. Twenty years’
experience. Dentistry in all its blanches done
in the moet approved style. Office over poet
office.
Painter.
rjl ». SUTLER,
House Painter,
Douglasville, Ga.
Will make old furniture look aa well as new.
Give him a trial in thia line. Will also do
hones carpentering work.
A Moat KtitbaraaMing Question.
Mr. Wilber force is not a bad man in
his way, but he was sorely put out the
other morning at breakfast. He had
lent a neighbor most of his parlor
chairs, and when ho entered the room
hfe found but one of thesejtsoful articles
of domestic economy loft.
He imntevUately called his daughter,
and turning angrily to her. demanded:
“Yon entertained Augustus Smith
for two hours last evening in this
room?*'
•‘I did. pa,” confessed the maiden
with a blush.
“And where did he sit?”
“On that chair.”
••And where did von ait?”
“No prevarication. Where did you
•HF*
“1 oh, gracious! I—l aat on the
coal bod. pa.”
Mr* Winterfaces aaya be doubt* the
atau ment. but where wuld the poor
bare aatF-Mtwwmfie Anpi*.
I' ' v
The
Spliced.
Eb, but it’a gi and to sit at one’s door with
one’s own wife at one’s side,
A showing her what she ought to know—bow
a ship-shape knot is tied;
See the ropes be equally matched, lass. A wisp
and a cable won’t splice:
For tie ’em as neat as you may, the weaker
will give in a trice.
Now twist ’em and twirl ’em—and there!
What, couldn’t you follow my hand?
Strange! how it’s easy to do what’s not easy
to understand!
'Twas easy our falling in love—but ask how
we did it, and why?
You may answer (for women are clever!) but
I can’t tell you, not 11
Then to make sure that the ropes are spliced,.
just tug ’em at either end,
If the knot be right and the ropes be sound,
there will be no slip nor rend;
There will be, ah it were, one rope, only
stronger because it’s two,
And that’s the way It’s to always be, my
Katie, with me and you!
The tugfl will come, lass, sure as life, ere our
young days pass away.
Dudes, drummers, and mashers will flock
around our little cottage gay;
But I’ll harpoon them at every chanee; I’ll
buy a dog and gun.
And unless the knots are awfully strained,
there’ll be no ends of fun.
THE AMERICAN TYPE,
The typical American is always rich.
He may not be able to, produce title
deeds and bank accounts, or other tan
gible evidences of wealth,but he is born
neir to innumerable quarter-sections in
a land of promise not always accessible
to the ordinary voyager, but through
which he roams continually in quest of
the pirate-hidden gold, the bonanza
mine, the great invention, the lucky
speculation, which shall open up to
him a rapid transit route to affluence.
Just at the present moment he may
find himself a little cramped, but there
Isa better day coming, a day quite near
athand when he shall burst this pinching
chrysalid shard, and soar aloft upon
auriferous wing, the free and brilliant
butterfly destiny intends him to be
come.
In the meantime, as far as his purse
will allow, he forestalls fortune. Born
an heir, it is incumbent upon him to
live on a scale commensurate with his
expectations. To-day he has only the
1-365 of twelve hundred dollars to
spend, but as to-morrow he may havo
tnat amount multiplied by an " indefi
nite factor, to save any of it would be
the height of parsimonious folly.
No genuine American ever " believes
he Will die poor, or suffer irreparable
Mfeg misfortune of any kind. Nay,
breath in nnfoidfag"
yjtijßH||bhenae for tne bettering of for-
Ittthwai ready past all earthly mond-
The American is fond of splendid
undertakings. He revels in schemes
for building gigantic roads and mam
moth bridges, for digging impossible
canals and inland seas. But such mat
ters must be taken in hand speedily,
and pushed with energy, or he is soon
tired of them. Affairs that move slow
ly, do not move at all for him.
Ho feels the impetus of the age npon
km. and to say of any project. “It
Will take time, it will take time,” is to
relagato it to some unknown limbo,
quite beyond the sphere of his consid
eration.
He loves to play the role of prince
And patron of enterprise. Or he will
be the brains, if you will; the sinews—
©ever. His to glorify the work, to talk
it up. write it up, to drum for it at •
good salary, to persuade others with a
large expenditure of eloquent breath,
to invest hard dollars in it; but that he
should wield a spade, or trundle a
wheelbarrow! why what a waste of
brain-power were that!
Brain-power!—that is the shibboleth
of the American; the totem which he
blasons not upon tho “grave posts,”
but upon hla own forehead; the potent
charm with which ho expects to conjure
fortune. ,
And by brain-power.be it understood,
he does not mean llie power exerted by
ajhoroughly infarmci. begad]y culti
vated Intelligence: for the typical Amer
ican is not a close student
The distaste for continued applica
tion and routine, which marks his ef
forts in fields of material labor, pursues
him into the intellectual fields.
He believes devoutly,though secretly,
in inspirational knowledge, a sort ot
atmospheric influence, as it were,which
accomplishes for him all the results
attained only by hard study on the part
of the European.
Brain-power with him means nothing
more than a certain intellectual alert
ness, a readiness in grasping the salient
feat art's of the situation, a facility for
summarizing and utilising the know
ledge of others.
He has no time himself to go into a
Subject exhaustively. What be wants
h results, conclusions, canned, so to
speak, like his peaches and peas.
A notable lack of local attachment
characterizes the typical American.
Hi# country is so large, that he cannot
concentrate his affection upon any par
ticular valley or mountain-side.
It is all America, and it is all his.
Bidding farewell to his birth-place
upon the Atlantic slope, he will trans
fer himself and his belongings to the
shores of the Pacific, with all the ease
end gavety of heart that wocld attend
a holiday excursion an org a more
staj'le people.
To him nostalgia is an unknown emo
tion. or at most, a passing sensation,
quickly dispelled: and the immigrant,
sick with longing for Fatherland, he
classes in his mind under the head of
tupjstial and unaccountable phenomena
He will follow the line ot a new rail
road. pitching a temporary tent at every
1 station, and settle down at last at some
| point half a continent distant from his
. starting place. Influence,! in his choice
’of locaFt! v br no more weighty consid
} arathm tfean that wu advimtag«»M
...U151 —ll.
FAWNING TO K
DOUGLASVILLE. GEORGIA.
opening for real estate investment? But
even when settled, he is by no means
fixed; his home being often little more
than pied-a-terre, where he keeps wife
and children, and other non-portable
property, and to which he returns at
intervals, for brief snatches of rest and
recuperation.
The typical American is always an
individual, and strongly bent upon re
maining an individual.’ He does not
lend himself readily to organizations,
nor blend with smooth uniformity into
society. The heady wine of freedom
works too strongly in his blood to al
■ low a protracted submission of his part
to rules or customs. He may for a time, i
and solely to please himself, pay obst r
vance to convention, and ruffle it in thto|
courts of fashion; but even such modi-|
tied subserviency soon becomes hatefiw
to him, and. he is apt to throw off, witM
tierce and scornful vehemence, the yokffl
he voluntarily assumed.
In religion and politics also he maH
give in a qualified and temporary. all3|
giance to teachers and leaders,
Ing to himself the right to critlmH
doubt and cavil, at will, but he is very?.-
Jealous of his reputation as an inde-’
pendent thinker, apd often adopts
eccentricity, apparently for no other
reason than to create a difference hei;
tween himself and his neighbors. i
On the esthetic side, the AmericsrtP
is still something like his own
nesses, rough and unkempt, yet to <5lO
who studies him with an eye not tjQ
severe, full of rich promise.
Musically, he has not progressist
much beyond the fondness for
shared by all living creatures.
strains of the fife ana drum still
power to stir him deeply, and hioHH
monic yearnings find ample
in the clamor of a brass ban«!
In other branches of the fine aOflH
is hardly mol* developed. He
had time ip the hurry and bustle
ting a continent into living ordorJgjO
adjust his ideas npon paintinSUH
sculpture, but ho is conscious
scssing such ideas, still in a som3H|H
nascont state, somewhere in the
rior recesses of his being.
On one point, however, he it Wwt
clear, and that is that American art j
when it doos arise, will be no tam® hfci* I
tntion of the Greek and Roman.
ia.».little tiied.of.
Boman. They have been
him with iteration,
,bin 3 tW
that art tmM "be nntiTo the soil. I
Greek art looks"05*obld r. hr “
der our vivid sktos—Deautifnl it xaaxji
be, but the passion from #hich
has long cea«od to throb in living
The dust of the tomb is upon it. ajMi
free and abounding life of his m
world, must find fresher and w.'rmer
expression than the emptv shell rs an
outlived past
In nothing, perhaps, is the Ame hsan
more distinct from other nationalities
than in the quality of his
Without reverence for tha ««
strong attachment to any single fear,
tore in the present phase of the nkfa|H|
al development, he is yet pmsHmH
patriotic. He loves his countrfflgMW j
what it is, or has been, but for WHO]
shall become. There is no |
with him, no sighing over antodKaK
ties. He views the past with
and amused smile. It is interesffllyTy
way of contrast, but not so good as his
present, and utterly insignificant 'in
comparison with the future. When he
fights, it is not to preserve traditions.
Away with traditions!
They are cobwebs! They are rust!
Men may cry out sacrilege. He does
not know the meaning of tne word.
AU that was sacred in thq, past of hu
man effort, lives actively in the present.
Why should he burden himself with a
mass of dead matter? Wornout gar
ments, crumbling walls, dusty and fa
ded records, these things oppress him,
and he hates oppression.
It is not that he undervalues the sao
rifices of the patriots, or wishes to be*
little the work they achieved, but that
he and his generation have imbibed so
thoroughly the inspiration of thei!
deeds, that he feels himself one with
them. All that they did, he and hii
generation could and would do, should
occasion demand.
This is the foundation of bis quench*
less faith in the stability of free institu*
tions,a faith so calm as to seem at times
more tike indifference.
Far from being indifferent,he regards
his country with a proud and patronto
ing affection. He takes immeasnrabls
delight in its v&stness, its wealth, its
beauty# he fondles it in his thought as
if he had made it.
It seems to him the predestined hom#
of a people emancipated from every
form of tyranny, the land where ths
last fetter of prejudice must fall away,
and the human race attain its culminat
ing splendor.
Hence, portents of change do not ap
pall him. Knowing that the old thing#
must pass away,in order that all thingy
may become new. change means to
him. not ruin, but regeneration.—
Marton A. BaJtsr. in Tkf
Lonise Michel has, like Mm WSF
■•Olkin, been beguiling
of captivity with literary pnrsniu A
tlic volume of hers has just been give#.
lio the world. It is of the ®®st
I -ire chanu li'T. the pri ] on* .mt
| i.ot aitonting her. it may be.
I .’or airing tier anarchinsal erotchew,
j Ixsui-*® ha* devoted her leisure to a
< -Uuly of the songs and stories of an
' Indian tribe, and the tula of her boeV
| >.* et Chante de Geste des
Uanaques.” The book iiwrfafiMlfaai
pure and simple style, and is a ctwd
uabl« literary performance.
My IttGWt Dan., had to write an
essay la- t of the
school wMiWie alluded (under pro
test)’ beifbveinTltjis teys ’writing es
says hr>n fioy get to be men
and h .. tafct articles or
letters w how t<> >!■? it. So
Dan’s"o him and he came
- * ‘Pa. what's a good
l thought a
mo remembering the ex
younger days, and how
those .-ame com
time. I said:
will go up in the gar
drawer of the old bu
find some essays that I
I was a boy, and maybe
I&' na/learn something from them,
son, but take several of
Wad them over and then
in your own language.'’
I done well. Dan
llßliyoiiora alxnit the essay. But,
I /clone was hatching.
j I rqeeived a note from
began:
’ gnjithjdSr.: Inclosed you wHI
I gbur son presented last
but unfolded the
I F" s: : woudering if genius could
I and if the Smith family
famous in literature.
Novemburr.
lilsK most butifullist season of the
i Jfjgr, VW can now go and gather Nuts,
put a Burr on two the end of
SsMMBRL nand-orgun man gos arownd
h*. the norfl Is the usefuller animal than a
J ~’W tni! wiiuin hadlnt ot to be paide eo much
men. My father new a women
MwfaWßlhad fals hare and theeth and an
WB®woodtn leg bur name wuz jones.
'|»W BhseenM lye this is all ino about spring
|g|jy|faKmtrfcic henry who goes to number 7
HMMn|iburt,y or give mo deth”
“Bale on sale on”
nH “thou ship of state.”
and was about to shove the
MHRko my pocket, when I thought
and picking it up read it
It continued:
I it»Sg*e him and he cannot, re-
Vt3rti.tt tbp school until both he and yourself
apatteffizyror the language contained in this
Miss F. C. Jones.
all come back to me. Dan
I gone through the whole
KfyjlH essays and also read a few pri
[ fO letters, and this was the result.
his teacher was the very identi-
.vfeo-wt whom I had vritten
to m, mutual friend.
I did not know. The alle-
Bth and
a ffoes i
1 jxMittonday eomes takes his pencil
i and.parer and carves east his uu* /
not get any ideas from
not if the under-
"Dan’l Smith, Sr. (parent).
Rank*i.x Above Their Fathers.
“When I was Secretary of the Navy,”
says Robeson, “and Grant was President,
some hundreds of the sailors of the bet*
ter class came to me and asked to havl
soma rank given them. They didn’t
care about an increase of pay, but
they wanted relative rank.
I “I couldn't do anything for them,
I but they came several times, and were
I rathdr importunate, and I finally led a
I delegation of them over to the White
I House and let them present their, peti-
I tion to President Grant in person.
| They told him what they wanted, and
argued for a redress of tlieir grievances,
plainly but forcibly.
At last an old boatswain came to the
front, and hitching up his trousers and
turning over his incumbent quid, he
said: ’Mr. President, I can put this
’ere matter so's you can see it plain.
Now here I bo—a parent; in fact, a
father. My son is a midshipman. He
outranks me, don’t you observe? That
ain’t right, don’t you see?’
“ ‘lndeed,’said Grant;’who appointed
him a middy?’
“ ‘The Secretary here,’ the bo’sun
said, and encouraged by the question,
he wen ton; ‘lt ain’t right,don’t you see,
that I should be beneath ’im? Wy, es
I was to go on to his ship the boy I
brought up to obejence would bosa his
own father! Jest think of that! An’
he has better quarters ’n me, an’ better
grub, nice fum’tura, an’ all that; sleeps
in a nice soft bed ’n’ all that. See?’
‘“Yes, the President said;‘yes; the
world is full of inequalities. I know of
a case quite similar to yours.’
“The old bo’sun chuckled quietly,
and rave another hitch to his lower
gear.
“ *1 know of an old fellow,’ said Gen.
Grant, ‘who is postmaster of a little
town in Kentuekv. He lives in a plain
wav*, in a small house. He is a nice
old man, but he isn’t much in rank.
His son outranks him more than vonf
son does you. His son lives in Wash*
ington, in the biggest house there, and
he is surrounded by the nicest of furni
ture, and eats and drinks anything he
i takes a notion to. He could remove
i his father from office in a minute if he
I wanted to. But he doesn’t want to.
| And the old man—that is Jesse Grant,
you know—doesn't seem to care about
the inequality in rank. I suppose he ie
glad to see his boy get along in the
world’
“The old bo sun looked down at the
. oarpet and tried to bore a hole in it
J with hs toe, and liU comradm aIL
I at him joyously, and slapped
I Wk and filed out in great
j glee. 6 was the last I ever beard of the
| petition or the petitioners. The old
| flung his cud into a cuspidor at
| he left. Probably he had concluded M
| give a>- thinkmg.'
:r?bes generally known » sav-
a Iffitge ioh’ ised treasure
Ikawwirttge a»d the Feeji
;<s, T’W wampla. wfee-m Darwin con-
ta. 8 towefa'ffK A
po-aie-wii elaborate 1
•Ainu.,; Sm.uuO worda.
■B, 1885-
AN ANCIENT VILLAGE.
A Son of Noah, According to Its Inhabi
tants, Said to Ba the Founder.
Our special correspondent with the
Afghan Commission thus describes an
extraordinary-looking village which he
passed at the distance of 100 miles
from Teheran:
“We had not proceeded far on our
way when vestiges of the former condi
tion of things met our eyes. It was at
a place only 100 miles from Teheran
that we first realized the dreadful state
of danger in which the people had
lived. We found a most remarkable
village at which we encamped. Sup
posing no information could have been
procured, and an archaeologist had
come- upon it by accident, he would
have had a profound puzzle to unravel
and explain. The name of the village
is Lasgird. The people ascribe an im
mense antiquity to it, and say that Las,
or Last, a son of Noah, drew on the
ground the ‘gird,’ or circle, which is
the plan of the structure. The hero of
this legend is not very familiar to Bi
blical scholars in the West, but he is
not unknown in Afghanistan. The
Colosseum at Rome, althoughgbn oval,
would convey some idea of
appearance of Lasgird, only it must be
conceived as built of mud, which is al
most the only building material of this
country. It’should also be recollected
that the one belongs to a period of good
architecture, of which it is a celebrated
monument, while the other may be said
to be entirely destitute of any preten
sions of this kind.
“The rude mud walls are thick and
solid *ll round at the base, and rise
some thirty or forty feet, where there is
a line of doors, with here and there a
small window between them. By
means of projecting beams, orbranches
of trees, over which smaller branches
are laid, a kind of gallery is produced,
bearing a strong resemblance to those
simple forms of birds’ nests which are
formed of sticks placed on the upper .
branches of trees. The wonder is how
the eggs do not roll over, or that the
chicks do not tumble down to destruc
tion. So it is with the galleries of Las
gird—there is no protection on the
edge. Yet we saw women and children,
sheep and goats, upon them—a more
frail and dangerous-looking arrange
ment it would be hard to conceive.
“There are two tiers of houses all
round, and in some places there ap
peared to be three. All had these gal
leries in front, either to communicate
witb bhe'Hcxt tiuu»i)r"or, ar-TRyrut? did
not communicate, they were only ol
come out upon to sit, or work,or
for the fehlldren to play upon: to us
these places seemed the brink of -de
struction, while to the women and chil
dren it all appeared as safe and com
fortable as if they had been monkeys.
Os course there was no getting up to
these galleries from the outside; that
would have suited the Turkomans. The
means of going up were all on the in
«ide. In some instances there are rough
steps of mud, and in others there are
inclined planes, half ladders and half
road, made in the same way as the gal
leries. These lead up to galleries com- ’
municating with the houses, which were
-*n exact repetition of those on the out
ride, the only difference being that they
were not so high up, and there were
walls at places which did duty as a par
apet, hence the certainty of falling over
did not seem so great from the inside
as on the outside.
' “While looking at this strange struc
ture from one of these upper galleries,
jin old woman, of at least 70 years of
age, passed me, with a child stuck in
■some primitive way on her back; a few
yards from me was one of these means
of ascent formed of sticks with the re
mains of mud hanging to it. It would
{have done for fowls to go up to their
boosts upon. She clambered up on this
to the gallery above, but that was not
her destination; her house was one up
still higher in a corner, and to reach it
she had to crawl up on the edge of a
crumbling mud wall, not above eight
een inches wide; on her left hand was
ft perpendicular descent, enough to
make any one dizzy, and death at the
bottom of it, if a fall should occur; al
though the other side there was only a
few feet, if the old creature had slip
ped. the chances are that she would
nave rolled down, and fallen over the
gallery with the baby on her back. The
old lady went up very steadily, and
reached her crow’s nest in perfect safe
ty. I could not help thinking that a
few generations of this kind of thlig
would undo all our development, and
that we would go back again to our
original Simian condition.
“The dwellings of the people were all
in the upper part of the great circle,
and the center was filled up with
strange moss structures, which are now
falling to decay, as there is no longer
any danger from the Turkomans.
These places were for containing the
grain of the village and for receiving
the live stock of the villagers when a
raid occurred. One of a number of
wells was pointed ouf*To us within a
circle, and we were told that they had
three or four which were all kept in
good order in the days of danger, i
There is only one entrance to this cir
cle, and that is by a small entrance :
scarcely four feet in height, to which I
there is a stone door working with a ;
pivot and socket similar to the ancient |
stone doors found in the Hauran and i
other parts of the Soudan. .This stone j
door of Lasgird is a very rude one, be- !
ing eight inches thick in some parts, |
and it tells its tale of the existence of !
great danger and the necessity for pro- ,
tection. *
“Sir Peter Lunsden had a long con- j
vernation with the Khet Kbodab and ;
some of the principal villagers, and it
seemed that they not only ascribed the
of Lasgird to the Son of Noah,
as thex called, hiuu ht& th«<
NUMBER 34
ened their sfrange dwelling-place so the
Ark. Extreme theologians, who iden
tify the church with the Ark, say all
who were in the Ark were saved; all
without were destroyed. This was ex
actly the case with Lasgird. When a
Chupao took place all who got in were
secure; all who were left outside be
came victims. A chronic state of war
existed, and this fortified village was
the result. The Government either.'
could not, or would not, defend the
people, and they had to take means for
their own safety.”— London Daily
News.
An Old Cavalry Horse Objects to
Buggy Hiding.
When at the closing of the war we
tvere stationed at San Antonio, having
little to do, we determined to enjoy a
buggy ride. We had a great big, good
natured horse that had followed us
from far Alabama, a dapple, grey, with
flowing mane and tail, and it did seem
as though he would handle a buggy
like a joy forever. The horse had never
been hitched to a buggy before, but he
behaved himself the best he knew how.
He looked around at the buggy and at'
the man in it as much as to say: “Boss,
this may be all right, but it is a mean
trick to*play on a cavalry horse. How
ever, if you can tell me what you want
me to do. I’ll do it or bust a trace.”
He didn’t understand the pull of the
reins, and we had to get out to turn
him around. He rubbed his nose on
our shoulder and looked out of his eyes
as though he would ask if he had done
right so far and seemed to say: “I have
been prepared for anything since I left
the Confederate service from a thousand
mile raid on short rations, to a race
with a Quartermaster’s mule, but I had
never expected to come to this,” and a
tear seemed to linger on his eyelid as
he put liis nose in his masters shirt
bosom and snorted some of his foam
there.
On returning to the town a company
of cavalry were drilling on the plaza,
and just then an idiot with a bugle be
gan to blow a call and the cavalrymen
started across the plaza in company
front. That settled the buggy ride.
“General Grierson” started off on a
run, buggy and all, and wheeled in
front of th© third platoon, three paces
in front, right where he knew there
ought to be a Second Lieutenant, and
turned his eye to the right to dress on
•the other platoon commanders. The
rear of tho buggy
ranks of the platot^&Jff^.-'}.
never so - ! I
The Captain yelled to ion’
the way, an orderly *
the old grey by the bit, and then it oc
curred to the horse that the buggy was
in the wav, and he began to kick it to
pieces. The cross bar and dashboard
were kicked over into the platoon, and
he was just pulverizing the running
Sear and box when a dozen men grab
ed him and we crawled out from under
the wreck, and when we got out the
horse had turned around facing us,
with the shafts still hitched to him, and
he was trying in hia horse-sense way,
to tell us what he thought of a caval
■ ryman that would appear on duty in
such away. and bring reproach on a
good, honest, well-brought-up horse.
The companv stopped drilling to laugh,
broke rants, and went into the
Monger House at our expense, the liv
ery-man took his buggy back on a dray
and the writer paid for the buggy, puti
on the saddle again and rode away, and
the old horse, when we got into the
road turned his head and nibbled tho
rider’s boot-leg and winked as much as
to say: “There, boss, this is something
like it. This is the way we used to do
in the Confederacy. Buggy riding
makes me sick.— Peck's Sun.
I A Hint to the Nihilist*. 1
It is remarkable what bad shots these
nihilists are. Here, they have fired,
first and last, about four and a half
pounds of bullets at the present czar
and the Emperor William; but instead
of turning those well-known parties in
to portable lead mines, no particular
harm has been done. Not so much as
a two-bit watch crystal has been brok
en, so far, and the public—particularly
the newspaper fraternity—is getting
tired of so many miscues, especially as
the socialists, dynamiters and infernal
machine builders are selling equally
low in the pools. It is about time some
body made a record, and, in this con
nection, we are glad to notice that
Captain Bogardus and Dr. Carver are
about making a tour of Europe. Com
munists and other dissatisfied stock
holders could hardly do better than
avail themselves of the services of these
excellent marksmen. It takes an Amer
ican to shoot straight, after all. Their
terms are reasonable, and they could
be relied upon to waft to a happier land
than ours at least forty-five monarchs
out of a possibly fifty, on an average—
dukes, prime ministers and heirs appar
ent in proportion. We don't see now
the nihilists can make any progress
otherwise, as the box of four-bit cigars
filled with nitro-glycerine, recently
sent the czar, failed to explode, and a
lot of American depot doughnuts do
i nated to the kaiser, were referred by
\ that tyrant to the ordnance department,
I under’ the impression that they wer«
' some new kind of patent grape-shot.
I There is, seriously, nothing left but to
I arrange the imperial sweep-stakes for
I the captain at once, and if he fails
there is the “Dr.” who is known to be
even more deadly with the rifle than he
: formerly was with the prescription,
‘ which is saying a great deal.— San
i Francisco Post. ;
The Philadelphia Ledger is the most
profitable newspaper proper in Ameri
ca. Its profits are 1450,000 a year.
Childs bought the Ledger when it waff
losing $ 1,0 0 a week.
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