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