Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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THE WEEKLY LEDGER GAFFNEY, 8. C., SEPTEMBER 80, 1895 RFFUS SANDERS. Short Stories and Sketches Fresh From the People. They Hail Hern “A Tlilnkin" ntul the Fit. ncral rroreMion I»i<ln't Come Off—The General Crop n( Fool a—**11 ell - Koarlo Hilly" Weannl From < iishIii. Andy I.uca* and Hie Kldcr. \ (Copyright, ISO:,.) My friend and fellow servant. Andy Lucas, which the same is likewise also a natural-horn horse trader, was dead riffht that time , .^L when ho unhut- : toned his iips ! . and pivo it onl that “woman is r a m o n strong J jealoi.b tiiinp." Il was a.tordin totiiatpr< atpoh ^ \ 'A of truth that | they busted up a \ beautiful d> aih- hed scene? and headed of! a funeral procession over at tho Wash (ircen place one day last week. They Had Hein “A Thlnklu.” Old man Wash (ireen has hurled two wives already, and everybody thought from general appearments last week ! that the time had come for him to put away tho third one. Hut right there is whore everybody mad*; a mistake as big as a barn door. Mises Oreen had lieen sick abed witli a slow fi xer for lo these many weeks. Tho doctors had give her up, and tho family had give her up, and she was both ready and will in to go right on homo to glory. But in the main time you must recol lect that a buxom, fine-look in young woman by the name of .Mi s .fosie .May Linton has been makin her home at the Wash (ircen pi ace for t wo or three years. She was a poor orphant girl, you under stand, whereas Mises (ireen took a likin to her and picked her up and made a place at homo for her like she was a roglar member of tho family. Now then. Some of tho neighbors had come in to speak a few part in words with Mise s Green. The preacher had been there and read the m t pture and lead in prayer. Shi had called the chil dren in one by one and told them all goodbye. And then she calh d for her dearbelovid hu-ban l. Old man Wash come croepin in, cry in as if his heart would break, and took his s at by the hod. Mises Gro<n had a long farewell talk with him about the future and the past in general, and finally .she come to tho children. “I could welcome death with a smile if it want for leaving \o : and the chil dren,” says Mises Green, and old man Wash looki d like hit jest, couldn't stand the naked tho ht ,f such a thing. “When I am dead and gone," she wont on presently." 1 reckon it would he I,ot ter for you to marry .losie May. She knows the children and they know her, and no doubts she would make you a good wife." “Yes”—says old man Wash between bis sighs and sobs, as he went down in his coat pocket after a bandana handker chief to wipe tlie tears away “.yes, inl and Josie May have been a thinkin about that.” Well man sir, from what the neigh bors say, tuey had tho most gonehyest confusionment you ever read of goin on around there presently. Tho old lady tlow off at tho handle, you underst and, and got mad and ri/. up in bed and pro ceeded to give out ;t piece of her mind to old man Wash in regards to hint and Miss Josie May. She lowed she wouldn't die noiv to save both of them and the whole Green family from the everlastin and orful torments. She took a turn for tho better right then and there, and by gracious she nint dead till yet. In stid of that she is on the mend, and wbensomovor site gits up and about the house oncst more, you understand, you can bet your pocketful of blue chips a young woman by the name of Josie May Linton will have to take up her bed and move her washin from the Wash Green placo. A SnTe, Sure Cruji, With the common run of men all is vanity and vexation of spirit anyhow, but sometimes it looks plum marvel- some to me to stand off see a full- grown man make a fool of himself. But there is one crop that always grows free and plentiful on the aoil of America— which never fails and never falls short— and that is the general crop of blame fools. Whereas and consequentially, Bud Newton is now laid up for repairs- - flat of his back with one leg in a swing and as helpless-as a hahy. Ho broke three of bis toes and sprained his ankle and knocked his knee-cap out of placo the other day, and from what the doctor says it will he a month or better hoforo he can come around on his feet again. Maybe you (nought knew where Bud Newton hangs his clothes up, hut in case you don't I will have to tell you that be lives right over thcro in the hill country. It is a perfect scandala- tion on the settlement to toll it in the papers how Bud got. himself into such a great fret and terrible smashnp, hut the truth is mighty and hound to leak out. Well, at any rates, Bud ho was haulin off seme cotton to tho gin down at Htringor’a Mill that day, and ho had some scandlous rough roads to drive over. Ho put nn a big load of cotton nnd bad somn ties and a full roll of bag- t'n on top of that. On his way down to the mill that roll of haggle would tum ble off of the wagon every mile or ao, ami Bud would have to git down and go and pick it up and put it back. The weather It wa« tretnendins hot, you ne- demand, and by-and-by Hud he got hot a&d tired and likewise mad. That roll ot btggln bad fell off five or els time*, and A nelly et leet It tumbled onton one fUt ft lit fffoe mi TOO* fft d< wn in r- cwood-, Then Bud got ao furiotc, nn. 1 till In- jumped off and run down Ihoio and kicked tho roll of bag- gin as hard as ho could drivo it He kicked so almighty hard, you under stand, till ho drove up throe toes and sprained one ankle and knocked his knee-cap out of placo. By gracious, ho was so had broke and bungod up he couldn't walk a lick, and so ho bad to lay down and stay there till some of tho neighbors come along and toted both him and his roll of baggin back to the wagon. And that’s what makes mo toll you what I do about a grown-up man playin the fool. It would look had enough to kick somethin that had life in it and could feel, but for a man to take a run- nin start and bust himself open on a poor old coll of dead cotton baggin—it passoth all undorstandin. “Ifell-ltnnrin Hilly' Got Broke. The way in which Bud Newton run his fool self into that mighty smaslmp brings to my mind old man Billy Cas tleberry—“Hell-Roarin Billy,” as tho people wore wont to call him—and tho time when ho got broke and weaned nff from his terrible wicked and foolish way of cussin. Ho was so roglar and so constant and so promisees with his cus sin, you understand, till it was in that way ho got tho name of “llell-Roarin Billy.” But finally at last when tho quittin time come ho jest simply took out and quit. It was then along in tho fall of tho year and old man Billy was harvestin of his crops. Soon one mornin he drove over to tho new ground after a load of ptimkins, and on his return back ho bad to make a long, hard pull up a steep hill. Ho went up in a storm, cussin and slashin tho mules right and left, and jest as tho team turned the brow of tho hill bless gracious the back gate to tho wagon come out, and his load of pum- kins rolled off one by ono and went bumpin and bouncin back down to tho foot of tho hill. Old man Billy sot up there and looked on at tho performance till tho last pumpkin had landed kerhip at the foot of tho hill. But ho didn't say nothin. Ho turned first red and then white all over in spots as big as a bed quilt, and then broke out in a cold sweat, you un derstand. But ho didn’t say nothin. About that time John Andrew Milli gan come along and saw the lay of tho land, and naturally of course he wanted to know of old man Billy why ho didn’t put in and cuss out creation. “I never felt more like cussin a few stanzas in all my born days,” said tho old man, “hut the fact is, John Andrew, I don't soo howl could do tho subject justice.” And hcnceforwards after that, clean on down to his dyin day, old man Billy Castleberry never was known to uso another cuss word. Thu Killer Kai-keil Down. Oncst upon a time Rider William Jernigan was out sowin tho seeds of the gospel truth accordin to the doc- trines of tho Christian Church, and ho mot up with Andy Lucas way over there at Murder Creek bridge. Now in them days to hear the Eider tall; it would seem as if he had took tho job of savin tho whole entire human race, and somehow a notion had worked itself into his head that ho must pitch in the first chance ho got and save tho lost and mint soul of Andy Lucas. “Good mornin, Andy, and how aro you coni in on‘. , ' , says tho El lor. “Well, I aint very many,” says Andy, “hut I am still ahovo water and swim- min without gourds.” “Andy, I want you to quit your wild and wicked ways and come out on tho Lord's side,” says tho Elder. “You aro ‘.ho very man wo need to build up the causo in this settlement. Let mo bap tize you right boro in tho croolf and bring you forth as a spared monument and a livin witness and a shinin exam ple of tho might and power of tho gos pel truth.” “Bill Jernigan, you must take mo for crazy,” says Andy. “You know full well that I aintlitton to jino the church or go down into tho water and bo buried iu baptism. 1 aint fitton for nothin in partielar but to cuss and drink whisky and swap horses and tho like of that.” “But I want to mako a Christian out of you,” tho Elder wont on.” All I ask is for you git down and let me lead you Into tbo water and bury you in baptism, and when wo come out you will be a changed man and a Christian.” “Aro you givin me tho rock bottom facts, Bill?” says Andy. “That’s the solemn gospel truth, which I can prove it to you by the words of tho blessed book,” says the Elder as he went down in his coat pocket after his Bible. “Well by gatlins, 1 bolloyn J will try you ono barrel anyhow,” says 4hdy ; “But lot mo tell you Bill—when tfo come forth out of the water, with my clothes all wet and muddy, If I aint a changed man and a Christian I am goln to givo you tho blamdost and most hollatious boatin that a white man over toted out of these regions.” What did the Elder do then? Well, he jest naturally took on a crawflnh movement, you understand, and packed down from his own game. His faltl* was right tolerable strong, but lie wa$ skocrcd to take tho ohances with a man by tho name of Lucas. And Anally, Jnonus and fellow citizens, in regard* to that, I will remark in conclusion that (he Elder's begd was as level as a squash. Bufpi Bands iff. That Test Wa» Satisfactory. "Do you think, sir,” said the girl’s mother, “thst you have patience and forbearance to bo a kind-hearted hus- I band?” “Madam,” replied the young man, in earnest tenet, a, l can put a If 1 ; stand- up collar on a No. 18 shirt wflimot mtf* ravasfnfla word.” And tbs consented te Vic match St 8AM JONES’ LETTER. Ho la Thankful That His Voioo and Pen Are Untrammolod. Thinks That All Free Coinage of Silver Advocates Are Not Fools—A Bright Outlook—The Atlanta Exposition. COPYRIGHT. 1895. This is a big world in which we live. There may be bigger worlds, and grand er worlds, and better worlds, and worse worlds, but this is a great world. There arc many things to keep a man busy, some to worry him and some to make him happy. After all, this world is about as kind to us as we arc to it. This world is so good to let us say what we want to say upon almost any question, and not one in ten will get mad with us. But now and then we find a brother tearing his hair and all out of sorts about some thing we have written or said. But most of humanity take kindly to criti cism unless the thing hits them too fair. I have quit getting mad. That don’t pay. I read many things about many people I don’t like. I read many things about myself that 1 do like. Some other things written about my self don’t make me shouting happy. But tliis world is so kindly to me in let ting me say all I want to say without licking me that I think it would be the height of folly to chafe under criticisms, or get mad when a brother explodes close to me and a few of the fragments hit me. I have been writing for the press for a number of years. My friends tell me what I write reads so differently to what it sounds when I speak it They say they can laugh when I say it, but they get mad when they read it from my pen. After all, more men get mad at me for the fun I have used, wit or sarcasm, than for anything else combined. Everything comes at me funny side foremost. I can’t help laughing when two Irish widows get together to condone with each other over the loss of their husbands, and one says to the other: “And faith, Bridget, what was the matter with your old man?” and Bridget replied: “I dunno; he seemed to die for the want of brith.” “Ah, faith,” said the other widow, “it was just the opposite with my old man. He had his brith up to the very last.” What is the use in men going crazy about anything? That there are many wise and good men in favor of the free coinage of silver I never have denied. I will not deny facts. But that there are thousands clamoring for the free and unlimited coinage of silver 10 to 1 who can’t plow a straight furrow, or parse “John runs fast,” or can tell the difference between insomnia and dip somania. I was after the crowd who was crazy on free and unlimited coin age. Just as humanity has gone crazy over baseball, skating rinks, subtreas- ury, greenbacks; and just as women go crazy on fads and fashions, bloomers and beaux. My letter on crazes was only adaptable to the class who have more beef than brains, more liabilities than assets, more dogs than dollars. The balance of the wise, statesman like, brainy part of the silver advocates 1 hereby and hereon forever exempt and differentiate them. I am perfectly willing to any plan or scheme that will better humanity and bring prosperity to our country and prominence to our institutions. Mon who don’t understand the subject, and especially men who don’t understand each other, are in poor position to dis cus i these great questions. 1 would willingly champion anything and every thing that would lessen the burden and increase the earning capacity and pros perity of the toiling millions of our country No man who travels over this country as I do and has a heart within him can be insensible to the condition of a great majority of the people of our country. And yet it is a fact that we pre, as a common people, to blame for the state of things that obtains. The word “debt 1 ’ js the hardest word this hide of (ioatl) with whielj we have to struggle. Meij talk about this be ing «i debtor country and England a creditor country. As long as this is true England has us by the leg. 1 re member the dai’s in the past when I w;is a debtor- 1 candidly confess l did not like my creditor I did not like to meet him. The unuouiuviHeiit of his funeral in the paper would not have affected me so sadly us the death of any man would to-day. It Is hard to love a man devotedly whom you owe. Let's settle our debts some way; then let's grow Let's pay up and then let's dictate the terms for ad present and (glare transactions. But the debtor is id pqor shape to dictate terms, and always will b«j But things look better tq-day (ban they did a year ago. IVi: jiaye got more corn in America to-day than America ever bad before. 1 believe cotton will go to ten cents a pound south was never better equipped for pveryjthjng ‘‘jceept debt paying So With the yveqt. Ityt* east never found it $0 lianlln eolleet qlej debts. ^Vjse men are oil liolll (sides of the single and double standard Mipudj'iqq IV iso men differ on the tariff (vin» imo|| llifflT In theology Wise men differ In every thing But they generally agree to disagree. Bools get mad, drunken men „ght, ami women quarrel sometimes. I Jove to be at peace with my neigh- boy* SDq «!) mankind, especially with iny ju'ighbqr.s. And in reply to all criticisms UU<| castigations, uhh h vour Uncle Jones wogld have suffered'fjf Je had not been too busy, I |iqyo only H'i-' to say: Gentlemen, if you etui give it to me any harder than I do to you, pitch in. This Is n free country, and if iligre in anything I despise it is a dull Unit By the wav, “Or f ^.vl'e.n opi ns in Atlanta the |st|. inst HI < k” agrent alum They am coming (n/in the east and the wi -.t li.c imi Uiiimi thfc Mint It Atlam t will mlu* hist class ctirO of all who c-c.ic no doubt, And give Llicifl a show u hi h will h<- in Wasting to all who come, and furnish ftf east and doftti afld oppor tunity to visit our southern country and become acquainted with our south ern people. This is the biggest thing the south lias ever had. Let all who can from every quarter attend and en joy it. Sam I*. Jones. SOME SOCIAL SLIPS. TIiIiixn That Wore Hotter Loft I'lisald on Various BlumlorHouio Ooraslons. “I beg your pardon, madam, but you are sitting on my hat,” exclaimed a gentleman. “Oh, pray excuse me; 1 thought it was my husband's," was the unexpected reply. In another instance of conjugal amenities a wife said to iter husband: “1 .‘.::w Mrs. Becker this mornimr and : complained that on the occasion of .mr last vi it you were so rude to her that she thought she must have offended you." “Nothing of the kind,” he answered “On the con trary. I like her very much; hut it was rather dark at the time, and when I entered the room at first i thong lit it wasy- “I'oor «. n—he was a kind and for- bearing husband," sobbed John's widow on her return from the funeral. “Yes," said a sympathizing neighbor; “but it is ail for the best. You must try to console yourself, my dear, with the thought that your husband is at peace at last." A gentleman hnd accompanied a friend home to dinner, and as they seated themselves tit the table the hostess remarked: "I trust that you will make allowances, Mr. Blankley. My servant left, me nnexurzledly and I was compelled to cook the dinner my self." "Oh, certainly, my dear madam, certainly,” responded the guest, with great emphasis; "I can put up with anything.” Another amusing slip took the form of an unhappy after-dinner speech. There was an entertainment given by an earl deservedly popular. It was ex tremely handsome and champagne flowed freely. The evening was well advanced when a benignant old gentle man rose to propose a toast. He spoke with fluency, but somehow he said ex actly the opiKisite to what he meant. “I feel,” he said, “that for a plain coun try squire like myself to address this learned company is indeed to east pearls before swine." Never was so successful a speech made. lie could get no further for many minutes. The company applauded vo iferously and as though they would never cease. “Now, Miss Brown," said an earnest listener, “won't you play something for us?" "No, thank you." said the lady; “I'd rather hear Mr. Jones." Earnest Listener—“So would I. but—” Here he was stopped by the expression on the young lady's face; and he looked confused for half an hour after she had indignantly turned and left him. A person who was revntly called into court for the purpose of proving the correctness of a surgeon’s hill was asked whether the doctor did not make several visits after the patient was out of dan ger. “No,” replied the witness; “I con sidered the patient in danger as long as the doctor continued his visits.” A physician walking with a friend said to him; “Let us avoid that pretty little woman you see then* on the left. She knows ino and casts on me looks of indignation. I attended her hus band.'’ “Ah, I understand. You had the misfortune to dispatch him,” was the remark that slipped out. “On the contrary,” replied the doctor, “J saved him!" A guest at a country inn ex claimed: “I say, landlord, your f->o:l Is worse than it was last year!" “Impos sible, sir,’* was the rather ambiguous reply of the landlord. “Why," sai l a counsel to a witness, “are you so pre cise in your statement? Arc you afraid of telling an untruth?" Witness (promptly)—"No, sir.” At a recent in quiry into the sanity of a young man of large property witnesses were being called to prove that he was unlit to manage his affairs. A curious slip was made by a schoolmaster when asked if he had formed any opinion as to the state of mind of the alleged lunatic. “Oh, yes," he replied, “I can certify he is an idiot. He was one of my favor ite pupils.” "I have met this man,” said a lawyer with extreme severity, “in a great many places where I would he ashamed to he seen myself," and then be paused and looked with sur prise at the smiling court and jury.— Philadelphia Press. REMINISCENCES. BUI Arp Has Some Reflections on the Pleasures of Memory. No Place Like Savannah—The Philosopher Write* of Their Soft rronuiic.ation, Culture and Ktiny Manner of Taking Thing*. (lo I'uzzlod the I’rofcMMor. The late Prof. Stephen J. Yqung, of Bowdoiti, was an accomplished linguist. One day jie was on ;i train bound from Bangor to Bruin,wick, when a con ductor who knew him entered his car to ask him to conic out to the second- class coach to try u::d find out where u certain stupid foreigner was going. The conductor had attacked him in all the foreign lingo he could muster, and could get no other response than a stupid stare. Prof. Young went hack to the rear of the tram The passenger sit there, hjoking very much disturbed and be wildered The prbfc.Sfcor went at him iu Canadian French, then in German, then in the languages of Scandinavia, Egypt, Italy, Spain ami every other country o:i the face of the green earth. Stil) (he passenger sat "mum as an owj."philc the look of bewilderment deepened mi bis face, d’lio prqfessor was Mgqqlused.aip| was about (urnitig in diife;.| |<« jqspwn ear when the man looked wearily mil of iIu, wjnditw (■ m| remarked sadly to himself! “By gosh, 1 wish 1 was ter hum!" He was u:i Aroostook Yankee and he could speak nothing but English.— Portland (Me.) Argus. ■ • Jryjnjj W. Lnrlinore, pliyuicinl di- rorjor V y .'M 4 , l>o« Moines, Iona, anys lie can cpnuclenMQnpfy recotnend Chamberlain's 1'ftln Hulin to athletes, gymnasts, bicyclist, foot ball players and ilie professing In general for bruises, sprains and dis- locajjons . a/so for soreness and stiff ness of tbe imist'M. JJ’bcn applied before the parls become swollen it will effect a cure In one Jifllf tlm time nflually rct|nimi1. Fftr sttle Hy tV. II. Dtrpw. Memory is a strange faculty. It seems independeut of the inind, but is mysteri ously connected with it. The forgetful witness is right when he says ‘T didn’t charge my memory with it.” When we were children memory was strong and the mind was weak. As we get old the mental power grows stronger and mem ory weakens, hut the memories that fast ened somewhere in our eraniums in our youth do never fade. I remember well the scenes, names and incidents of my childhood. I remember when I wore aprons ami how old Aunt Minty, the cook, looked, and how my father killed the dog because he foamed at tin* mouth and was thought to he going mad. I was only .*! years old then. When I was 0 years old my mother found her long-lost brother and I remember the meeting and hew they embraced null other and cried for joy. Their parents died in Charles ton of yellow fever ami were bnried in one grave and the two little ehil.l p en were hurried away during the panic* and -mt separated, for they had no kindred to care for them. The hoy was put oil a ship and sent to Boston—the girl on an other vessel and sent to Sivanuah. Each was placed in an orphan asylum and they never found each other until some years after they were grown and married. Diligent search was mad** in Charleston, hut no clew could be found, and as a last resort my father advertised in a Boston paper ami it was seen and a letter came that was written iu tears. I remember all tin* excitement ami how her brother earn** and what a hands cm* young man he was ami how the people of the little village joined in the rejoicing. I remem ber how the next year my father and mother, with my brother and myself, went to Savannah iu a carriage—350 miles—and took a sail vessel there for Boston to visit that brother and his family. I was ruminating about this, for I was in Savannah last week and I recalled the river ami the wharf and the vessel that we took passage on and the long voyage of thirty-sewn days. I re member the long, wide street and it had a double row of i'limcnso china trees that Oglethorpe planted. Those trees are all gone and other kinds have taken their places. I was told that their old trunks were planted in the water to sup port the wharves and that some of them are there yet, for the sea worms will not touch china wood. As I meandered along tlit* streets I wondered how many people were living iu that city who were there sixty years ago, when I first visited it. I'roliahly ihcri* are not fifty--per haps not ten. Then* are not Inn five in Rome who were there forty-five years ago when I settled there. What a people we are to die or move away. Savannah is a lovely city. How clean, how shaded, how ornamented with ever greens and dowers! What beautiful parks with the green grass growing all around where the happy children frolic and the hahy carriages abound. Monu ments are there, too, to commemorate noble men—I'lilnski and Jasper and W. W. Gordon ami others, but none to Ogle thorpe, What a grand people used to adorn this historic and classic city. I remember the times when the Iluhcrshums, Har dees. Elliotts, Bullocks. Joneses, Hons- tons. Laws. Jacksons and Tclfairs lived there, tkmie of th»*ir descendants live there now. and wear the niunth* of their fathers in tom* and manners and high moral principles. They are gentlemen by Inheritance and training. Who ever saw liobh r gentlemen of the olden ti nes than (lens. Lawton ami Jackson? Who ever saw a finer specimen of younger man hood than Fleming diiHignou. the most classic and eloquent young man in Geor gia—a lawyer, statesman and orator, and always a gentleman? When 1 was a .allege Imy I did not at first mix with the hoys from Savannah, for it was said they were stuck up and proud, hut iu time 1 was undeceived and was pleased to rank them as my friends. I did not understand their peculiar pro nunciation. They said pa ami ma like pa<l and mad. while we up country boys said pa and ma like par and mar and our backwoods hoys said paw and maw. The low country hoys said gyurl for girl and we thought it was affectation. Savannah jias the same peculiar folk lore yet and 1 like it. I) sounds g» nth* and soft ami pefinod. Even the negro lingo has :i charm about it. 1 heard an old nursq say to a child in the park: “Honey, your mar say eanp* dare to her: run long chib; for** de hiiekra map coleh you.-’ Then* is no rush in Savannah. Every body and everything take their lime. A dignified leisure pi'*** ails among tin* husj. ness men and they will lake time to give courteous attention to visitors, whereas in Atlanta they have no lime for the courtesies of life. “How are you. howdy do; are all well? Come round and see me." ami your friend will hurry on. At lanta gets her manners from north Geor gia mainly. Tho (icoplo are kind, liberal, progressive and desperately in earnest, (•specially after money. Savannah people hn) more scholarly ami classic, ami that Is why the Historical Society was found ed then* ami has been so long and sq liberally sustained. In «>nr college days Henry Law ami Monroe Melvor were the most gifted orators, ami Hi** oration of the former on ‘Tool «t Mars Hill" is jffijl remembered by Jhose who heurd if ami are' yet allvp. 1 was riimimitiiig about that l<u|g jour ney of six days to Hnvnciuih by earring**, 4 ml tii<> other night 1 took h**rlh in a »Ioc|mt (it 7 nVjoc.k nnd nwnked next morning in Havauuah and found break fast awaiting me at Hie DeXoto hotel, f was thinking about that stormy voy age of thirty-seven days to Boston, and how we suffered n partial shipwreck, and my father would not ret urn by water, hut Isiir.'lit a earrii.g** and span of black bor es ami uc eame all the wav to Geor- gi-'i nvcrhnui; a|id il |o"k U'» »jx |oiijj wncks to make the iripi and how up never crossed a railroad, tor ihcrc wai none to cross. All (his Is uilhln my ror- ollcctiou, ami I still remember as if it wen* not so very long iuo lom my father held in** by the feet as I laid down to peep over tin* brink of the nalurnl bridge in Virginia into Hie awful chasm below. ^l’(*lj. a|| |hvNe memories make in** feel [ ml, for <d all my kindj'cd who Ihpp |ivel| only nm left. Father muf rnnlher ftrhl melt* ntifl mails anil totisins fill cfcirt. \i hat an erentful life have I lived, nnd wliat an advance* in the world's pr'gross lif ve I seen. The time was when 1 hail t<( do all my rending nnd studying at night by the light of n tallow dipped can- die-not only that, but I and my brother 1 *id to dij> them, and if I had a corner ii* the exposition 1 would like to show the hoys and girls how it was done. We thoight we had a good time, and wo did, hut it would he awful to live that way now. BILL ARP. FOOD OF THE FUTURE. Borne Way* in Whicb tho Supply Will Be Affected by Electricity. Edison made his prediction several years ag*o that nnimal matter will or may be dispensed with as an article of diet by and by, because the fixation of nitrogen in vegetable growths may bo accomplished. Nitrogen is one of the chief elements in animal tissue. If it can be infused into vegetables it will give them the nutritive quality of meat in endless va riety. Just while I am writing this article, says a writer in Youth’s Companion, the famous chemist Berthelot an nounces to the French academy that, one hundred years from now, the chief food supply of mankind will consist of nitrogenous vegetables. He comes along considerably behind Edison. It has long been the habit of foresee ing men to predict that some great change would occur within twenty-five, fifty or one hundred years, and that the change is apt to come very much sooner. ()ften'the prophet of it achieves the result himself. Another clement of progress in this direction would be the extraction from wood fiber of starch, sugar and protein substances, i. e., those which are re garded as the basis of animal tissues and of some vegetable growths. This work has alreadv been broached. If it could be carried out successfully on a large scale men could produce these substances in immense quantities at factories situated in large forest re gions. Electric currents and artificial light also, Edison expects, can he applied to all edible or fruit-bearing plants, so that apples and oranges, for example, may ultimately be grown a foot in di ameter. It would seem, then, that in time the exact amount of sustenance re quired by the human race could be cal culated in advance and supplied with almost mathematical accuracy. If the forests are to be eaten up by people for the sake of the food con tained in them there might be some danger of losing our woodlands, the great safeguard of our water supply, just as they are now threatened by the rapacity of those who cut them down wholesale for lumber. But the destruction of forests on thin score will be somewhat counteracted by the nitrogenous vegetable supply; and for buildings and furniture Edison pro poses that artificial wood shall be made, consisting of compressed chloro-cellu- losc nnd talc, (vith a solvent, worked like wood fiber when disintegrated un der water pressure. If. then, people should restrain their appetite for edible lumber, our forests could still be preserved, especially since it is proposed to cheapen the use of brick for building by making bricks of much larger size, drying them rapidly in great iron chambers, with a largo percentage of sand in them to prevent shrinkage, and then laying them in a cement of lime, clay, and nitre, pro ducing immense heat and fusing the wall into one solid mass. He. HAD PLUCK. Eveu If th<* Four Little Chap Wa* Dressed a* Little Lord l annUeroy. The poor little chap wore a heavy pea jacket of blue cloth, mounted with brass buttons, a large red tie which tickled his peaked face, and leather leggins, which covered up the rest of him, except his long golden curls. On the top of those he wore a blue sailor cap. Ilis mother, says the New York Herald, gave him to a Third avenue car conductor, with injunctions to set him off somewhere, and then went to a shop on Grand street. Later on, a boy of his own age, but dressed in knicker bockers and woolen st*>ckings, squeezed beside him on the seat and pulled one of his curls. The little boy with the golden hair grinned weakly, but had as much chance to retaliate as a trussed chicken, and when I looked over at him sympathetically, and warned the other boy away, he hopped off his perch and came over to my side and said: “Say, mister, help me off with these things, will you?" He threw his cap under the scat and I unbuttoned tin* pea jacket and the hot, stiff leggins, and held them on my knee, wondering what would follow. The pale little boy gave his curls a shake and sprang at the other with sur prising agility. Together they rolled on the lloor of the car, and before we could separate them the little boy with the blonde curls would never have l»een recognized by his mother. But he shed no tears. He put on his coat, hung the leggins over his arm, and climbed up beside me. T^ >en 1 |C rcmarkeij; “Say, mister, I’d a slugged that fel low, if he hadn’t got a grip on hair.” When that toy got off the ear i gave ! iiui the price of a jiair cut, and told lim to go home with a closely cropped lltad. 1 hope his mother win forgive me, but it’s a shame to grow curls on a boy like that. • - Afflicted for Years. Mr. R. B. Goodman. Marietta. Ga., says: “I was troubled with rheumn- tisin, which the doctors called sciat ica. for a number of years, doctoring with everything I could hear of. wjlhoii) Itouefif qnli] I t.ommenceq with !»r. King’s Royal Gcrmetuer, which cured mo sound and well. I was at times, for several months, so I could not walk nt all. I have now boon thoroughly well of it for four years nnd think there is no medicino that can c<|U!i! (Jennetuer.” Write to The Atlanta Chemical Co., Allan- tn,, (jn., for 18 page book, fret*. New AftCkftcn, lArge bottle, lOfl dose*, $1. Fot ftfide by w. B. DuPre.