Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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DARLINGTON HERALD. VOL. IV. PARUNGTON, S. C., FRIDAY, AUGUST 10, 1894. NO. 36. OF A HEART. Dear heart—dear heart! the sweetest heart that ever Gave one qoich throb for me! I do pray God that your kind steps may never In paths of darkness be I Bnt If they were—O, dearest eyes of bine I I would walk there through all my life for you! Dear heart—dear heart! the gentlest heart—that, beating, Felt for my heart one day I X trust that there shall be a tender meet ing For our hearts, far away! But if there should not—O, my lore, my dear 1 Since you were happy, I the grief would bear! —[Fbank Xj. Stanton, In Atlanta Con etitntion. 0B EPISODEjf ME "That isn’t a bad reward!’’ “No. If a follow could catch him he would roakp pretty good wages. Let’s see.” And the second speaker began to read the postal card that the postmaster at Hard Scrabble had just tacked to the door of the store that constituted the “office” so that every one might read: TAKE HIM IN I Five hundred dollars reward will be paid for the arrest and delivery of Rube White to the Sheriff of Yavapia County. He is about 25 years old, 6 feet tall and slim, with alight com plexion And has a big scar on the right side of his face. He is wanted for robbery and other crimes. If killed in resisting arrest the reward will be paid on satisfactory proof of hla identity. When last heard from he was making for the Tonto Basin country. By the time thereader had finished a crowd of a half dozen or more men surrounded him. “Now, if that feller is headed for the Tonto Basin country it wouldn’t be much of a trick to take him in,” said the first speaker, reflectively, ns if debating with himself the advisa bility of making the attempt. “If you hear me, he ain’t going to be taken In, and the feller that tries it is going to have 'his hands full. They have been after him for two or three years and ain’t got him yet. They say he is right on the shoot,” remarked another of the crowd. “Well, a feller ought to know him as soon as he sees him from that do- scription," hazarded the first speaker, “if he got up close enough to tee the scar; and then all he’d have to do would be to turn loose at him If be didn’t throw up his hands when you told him. Besides, nobody but him would try to cross over the mountains into the basin with the snow on the ground. Bluned if I don’t think I’ll go after him.” “Well, somebody ought to round him up,” asserted someone In the crowd; “he’s been foolin’ ’ronn hyar long enough, jes’ havin’ his owp way, sorter as if the country belonged to him. Blamed if i wouldn't go with you, Hi, if I didn’t have to take this grub over to the boys in camp.” “Well, if any of you want to go, all right. I’m going,” replied the man addressed as Hi. It was not the first time that Hi Lansing had been on such expedi tions. Ht was one of those men for whom danger seems to have a fascina tion. At his remark Frank Crandall, a young fellow who hod been stand ing quietly by, volunteered to ac company him. The crowd turned to ward him with more interest than they had thus far evinced during the entire proceedings. It was but a few months since he had come among them, fresh from the east, to take charge of one of the mines which hqd been closed down by the winter’s storms. For weeks ho had been cooped up in the isolated settlement, and ho longed for something to break its monotony. “Well, get your horse and gun and come,” replied III, and in an instant the two men had left the room to arm and equip themselves for the chase, while the loungers gathered about the stove to discuss the probabilities of their success. In a few minutes the men rode past the door, each armed with a rifle and a six-shooter, . and the crowd, stepping out, bade them good-by, with the oft-repeated warning: “Be keerful, and don't let him get the drop on ye.” The crust of the unbroken snow cracked crisply under foot as the two men rode on, fast leaving the little settlement in their rear. For some time neither spoke, but at last the silence was broken by Lansing ask ing hia younger companion: “Did you ever try this kind of tiling be fore?” “No,” replied the young man; “ I never have.” “Well, then, you want to be keer ful. If you don’t lose your head you’re all right. The only danger is that we may run on him before we know it.” “And if we do, what then?” asked the young man. “ Well, he will probably commence shooting, and if he does and you aren’t hit the first rattle out of the box, why, you want to git off’n your horse and git behind something and shoot back. If ther ain’t anything to got behind, keep your horse be tween you and him, and keep a-shoot- ing. Whatever you do, don’t let go of yonr gun. But what we want to do is to see him first, and then we’ve got the play on him; and all you nave to is to tell him to throw up.” “And it he don’t throw up?” asked Crandall. “ Why, then you let him have It. The reward will be paid just the The apparent IndiSefehflfl With which Lansing spoke of the bn tire matter) itiiich as if he were discuss ing the best method Of Htinting a wild animal, shocked the young man; but he had committed himself too far to withdraw. They had been riding for several hours in silence through the show, unbroken by aught save the scattered pines that here and there dotted the mesa. Before them towered the mountains, through whose passes the man whom they were after would have to pass in search for safety in half-settled Wilds bflyond. As the twd men rode along, scanning in each direction the SnoW-coVered ttioSa, Lansing suddenly wheeled his horse to the right, and when Crandall join ed him he pointed to a narrow trail where two horses had passed through the snoWi “That’S hitti, He’s driving one horse and lending another, and ha hasn’t passed by very long, either. See, the snow hasn’t had time to drift ih/’ said he, With the discovery his whole de meanor had chongedi A hew Ieoh came into his eyes and his voice sounded strange. He even grasped his Weapons in a manner different to that he had heretofore displayed. “He’s right ahead, ahd we want to look out,” the older man contihued as they began to follow the trail. As they approached the summit of each hill they would stop their horses, and Lansing would dismount and crawl to the top, so that he might look, without being discovered) ihtO the valley beyond, in order that they might not come on the fugitive too suddenly. They had traveled this Way for several miles, when, reining in hie horse, Lansing pointed to what seemed an old road leading off to the right of the one they were foiloWihg, and said: “That’sthe ‘cut-off’ into the basin. I thought he would take it, but he probab.y doesn’t know the country. You bad better take It and ride on ahead until you strike the road we’re on again. Then if yon can’t find bis tracks, you had better ride back to meet me until you do. I will follow the trail up.” The young man tried to expostu late with Lansing for the great risk he was assuming in thus following the trail alone, but his companion was obdurate, and cutting the argu ment short, by again' Warning the young man to be on his guard Ije rode on, following the trail in the snow, while the younger man, finding ob jection useless, took the “cut-ofl” road. He had no difficulty in follow ing it, and be wondered why the man they were in pursuit of had noKtaken advantage of it. The whole pursuit seemed almost like a dream to him. The snow, unbroken save by his horse’s footfall, stretched away mile after mile in every direction, with here and there a pine, through whoso branches the wind seemed lo sob and sigh, making the only noiso that broke the stillness of the wintry afternoon. It added to this feeling. Not a thing in sight. He began to depict in his own mind the manner of man they were pursuing. He had almost forgotten ids name. After all, what had the man done that he, Frank Crandall, should be seeking his blood ? Perhaps, like himself, the man Lad a mother and sisters to grieve over any misfortune that would overlake him. These and a hundred kindred thoughts passed through ills mind. The sun was fast declining ns ho passed from the “cut-off” into the main road again. The air was get ting chilly with the coining evening, and tiie snow in the distance took on colors of pink and purple where the rays of the setting sun touched the mountain peaks. Ho scanned the main road eagerly to see if the man they were in pursuit of had passed, but the snow that covered it was un broken. Then ho rode back on the main road,in the direction from wiiich he had come, to meet ids comrade and the fugitive. He had just as cended one of the many rolling hills when, in the distance, he discovered a man riding a horse and driving another. At the sight his heart al most stood still. He dismounted and, leading his horse to one side, concealed him in a clump of young pines. Tien he returned to the toadside and waited. The man was urging ids liorses forward, but they •oemed to be wearied and made but slow progress. Crandall felt ids heart beat faster and faster at the length of time it took the man to reach him. He examined his revolver and rifle, cocking each to see that they were in order. It seemed to re lieve the tension of his nerves. After he bad done tlds he knelt down so that he could fire with surer aim,and waited. He did not care much now whether the man resisted or not. If the fugitive resisted he would have to stand the consequence of resistance. It was nothing to him. The setting sun shone full in the man’s face, but Crandall forgot to look for the scar that the notice had said was on tiie right check, although he had resolved to do so particularly. When ho first discovered tiie fugitive lie scanned tiie road behind him to discover Lansing, but the nearer tiie man approached the less Crandall cared whether Lansing came or not. He let the man approach nearer and nearer, so that his aim would bo more accurate. He could not afford to throw away tiie first shot. The face of the man became more and more distinct. He seemed to be oblivious of his surroundings. Crandall felt almost disposed to let him pass, but the thought that everyone would think him a coward if he did so spur red him on, and rising erect ho or dered the man to surrender. The horse that the man was driving in front of him, frightened at Crandall’s appearance, swerved from the road. leaving the two men facing each other. For an instant Crandall looked straight into the other’s eyes. Then ih€ fnan raised his rifle from the pommel of the saddle, and Crandall fired. The horse which the man w' riding sprang from the road, and a. the same moment its rider's gun was discharged! The smoke from Cran dall's own guti blew bank Into his eveS) and he turned from It to follow the moveiiieflts of the man at whom he bad fired. As he saw the liittil still erect in his saddle, he felt the fever ish haste to fire again come over him that meri feel wliori llie^ have shot arid missed, arid krid# that their life may fcd the fdrfdlt Of their failure. He threw another cartridge Iflto the chamber of bis rifle and raised it to his shoulder, but before ho could fire the man reefed ffom his saddle an-? fell, while Ills frightened h0r'S6 gal lOped of thrOugh the pines. Crandall Stopped iottard Him hold ing his rifle prepared to fire again if necessary. As he did so the mat raised his hand and said, simply: “Dori't fife—you’ve got me.” The SHOW was already fed frith blood where he lay. Fdt’ the' first time Crandall looked for the scar that the description said was on the right Chock; For an instant he did not see it) arid liiS heart seemed to stop beating frith the fear Of hating made a mistake, and ithfitij Ofl drawing nearer, he saw that it was there, that only the pallor which had spread over the man’s face had made it indis- tiflet, he could have cried out with jOv at the feelifig Of relief that passed over him. “Are you badly wounded?” he asked. “I don’t know how bad it is. It is here Somewherd)” the man said, blaciflg his hand Oh his breast) as if not certain of the exact Sprit. “It feels numb like,” be added. Stoop ing down,. Crandall unbuckled and took off the man’s pistol bolt and threw It into the snow, where lay his fifle, and then he tore Open the man’s shirt. As he did so his fingerS came in contact with the warm blood, and he involuntarily drew back with a feeling of disgust. “Bid you find it?” asked the man, who was Watchibg him closely and who had observed the movement. Recalled to himself by the ques tion, Crandall again tore at tiie shirt, exposing the breast. Where the blood did not cover it It looked like marble. He could not see the wound on account of the blood until he had wiped the latter from the breast and then he found it. “What do you think of it?” the man asked. “There it is,” replied Crandall. He could not say more. Tiie appeal ing tone in the man’s voice for some hope—some encouragement — made him feel faint and sick. “What do you think of it?” the man repeated in a querulous voice, and as he did so ho coughed until his mouth filled with blood, and he spat it out on Hie white snow. Crandall shook his head and walked toward where his horse was tied. Ho felt th'it if ho watched the wounded man any longer lie would faint. Noticing his walking away, the wounded man said: “For God’s sake, don’t leave me. Now that you have killed me, stay with me, and don’t let me die like a dog.” The voice was one of entreaty, and Crandall returned and seated himself in the snow by the man’s side. Tiie sun had gone down and tlio twilight had come on, bringing with it the chill of night. Crandall covered the wounded man’s body with his over coat and raised his head from tho snow. Almost unconsciously lie noted that as the patch' of red made by the blood grew larger and larger, the face of the wounded man grew whiter and whiter. He never took his eyes from Crandall's face, while ids breath came quicker and shorter, ns if he breathed with labor. With each breath the blood seemed to bub ble from the wound in the breast. One of the man’s hands fell from under the coat that covered him. As Cran dall raised it from the snow its cold ness sent a chill through him. Once lie had asked tho wounded man if lie could do anything for him, but tho man had only shaken his head in re ply. Crandall felt like reviling him self for what he had done, and won dered why the wounded man did not reproach him. Even when he ex pressed his sorrow at having shot him the dying man said, gently: “Don’t mind it. It’s too late now.” The twilight gave way to darkness, and still he sat there. He could not hear the dying man breathe without leaning over his face. He did this but once though, and the dying man had opened his eyes and looked up into his face inquiringly. Crandall would rather have stayed there until morn ing than to catch that look again. Suddenly he heard a voice call to him. Ho started as if he had been fired at, but it was only Lansing. As he answered the call Lansing rode forward, and, seeing the outstretched form on tho snow, said: “ By George, you got him?” “Hush!” replied Crandall, fearful least the wounded man would hear the exulting tone which grated on his own ears as nothing else had ever before done. But not minding tho admonition, Lansing dismounted and, striking a match, held it close to the man’s face. It was pale and cold and the half-opened eyes were glazed. They did not even reflect the light made from the match, but from the partly opened mouth a tiny stream of half congealed blood scorned to bo still flowing down over tho beard. “That's him, and it’s a pretty good day’s work wo have done by earning that reward,” said Lansing coolly as the match went out. Somehow, though, as Crandall lay awake through the night within a few yards of the body to keep the wolve'4 from it so that it would be unmarred in the iftorning, when they would lash it to a horse arid take It Into tbe settlements for identification,he won dered why Lansing could sleep sd soundlyi As for himself, the rigid form covered With only a saddle blan ket, lying where the snow was red instead of white, was always before his eyes, even when he closed theifl. —[Argonaut. Sinking of the Celt*, Tho reported settling at the rtite of six inches per century of the reglofl of the Mississippi river delta isa mat ter which, if confirmed, may well en list sOm# interest. It is not at all unusual for the rfdt'fde'e' of tbs earth in places to thus yield to & fllow and Sometimes to a rapid subsidence, but It IS only along water lines that mark the Oceah leVSl that these variations are 80 noticeable. A largo area of inland riOdfitry ttfigbt depress Several feet, and if the depression Were uni form ns to hills, valleys, plaiflff) ravines, etc., it would not be notice able because of no st andard of com parison. If tiie region in the vicini ty of NetV fcMearis is sinking at the rate of ono and a lifilf iWeheS in twenty-five years, tills does not ScW much, and yet a time may come in tho hot fery remote future when the WrtterS Of the gulf Will wash her pres ent fioo’i's. So f»r as the effect is felt, it docs not much matte? Whether this is brought about by tiie absolute S'ilb- sidenoe of the lands or the slow ele- tatioii beyond their dormer level of the Water*; as a very Slight change in tho earth’s centre Of gravity would suffice for tire later. It may ' 1 pos sible that the deposition of sujh an immense amount of alluvium as the Hirer Carries down and deposits on tiie Gulf floor, displacing a bulk of water of less weight, Wight gradual . dinge down the earth’s criiSt St that point, and it is also possible that the serious “fault” in the rock structure Up in the New Madrid region, and which resulted id the “sunk coun try” during the remarkttbte earth quake of 1811-12, may extend to the Gulf and be lying in wait for future mischief. Had the present sunken region been populous during the ninety days of trembling and billowy undulation, when the forest trees in terlocked, the calamity to hviman life and property would have' -been most appalling.—{New- York Tele gram. « Once in Switzerland I stopped at tbe little village of Burglen, right on the very spot where William Tell lived, for I am one to believe his atory with.all my heart, and keep the Spirit if it in tho world, just as I would keep tho spirit of Santa Claus for tiie children, in spite of all that is said igainstit. Well, every morning and evening, right bv my window, rang tiie “matin” and “vesper” bells, calling tho villagers to vlieir simple service, and they came, many with tools in their hands to leave them at Hie door, parefooted, to enter and kneel In prayer before going to their daily labor. Tho bell is called tho “Angelas” in that country, and if you once heard it as I have, you would love and cherish ail its associ ations. Let mo tell you one little story of Hie curfew. In an English village a bride stolr forth, Ginevra-like, on her wedding day, to hide in the furze, but, becom ing frightened, tried to find her way back, and took the wrong path; she was soon >ost, and a heavy snow storm coining with tho darkness, the girl became torrilied with visions of robbers and danger in every form, when suddenly through tho dismal gloom camo the sound of the dear old curfew, sweet and low. Guided by it to her homo, she fell upon her knees in gratitude. When she died she bequeathed not only a chime of boils to the church of her little village, but money to keep up the custom always of ringing the curfew. —[Home and Country. Diseased Teeth. The belief that unsound teeth be long only to a highly civilized state of life seems to be a prevalent one. But J.H. Mummery informs us in Na ture that a very different conclusion was reached by his father, jnore than twenty years ago, after an inquiry extending over more than a decade. Over 2,000 skulls were examined, in cluding all the available collections in Great Britain. Among 36 skulls of ancient Egyptians, there were 15 with carious teeth; among 76 Anglo- Saxon skulls, 12; among 146 skulls of Romano-Britons, 41; and among 44 miscellaneous skulls of ancient Britons. 9. Several other collections gave like results. Examining skulls of savage races, 27.7 per zent. of Tasmanians were found to have den tal caries, 20.45 p.'r cent of native Australians, 24.25 per cent, of the na tives of East Africa, and 27.96 per cent, of tho natives of West Africa. —[Trenton (N. J.) American. Giant Sanfish. A sunfish weighing one ton eight hundred weight is very likely to be one of the largest, if not actually the largest, in existence of that species. This is tho weight of a sunfish which was caught by three boatmen in tho service of tho Melbourne Harbor Trust, and reported In advices to hand by tbe last mail. The menster moa.'urea eleven feel around its body. The men were engaged working at tho pier at Williamstown at the time of tho capture, and it caused them no little exertion to land their unique prize.—[Westminster Gazette. You can get sixty pounds ril wheat for forty cents in Kansas. THE JOKER’S BUDGET. JESTS AND yarns by funny MEN OF THE PRESS. fh* Biter Bit--A I Pertinent Ques- tion--A Qberfl Reaeon Why--Too Easy--Etc., Etc. THE BITER BIT. Mfs, Kingsley—Wasn’t your hus band (hit very late last night? Mrs. Von Bltitner (sweetly)—Yes. But I felt sure he would be. He told me he was going to meet your hus band.—[Detroit Free Press. A PERTINENT QUESTION. He—I had a queer dream about you last night, Sliss Louisa. I was about to give you a- kiss, when sud denly wo were separated by a river that gradually grew as big as the Rhine. She—And was there no bridge and 'no boat?—[Fliegende Blaodder. A STAIN ON THE ESCUTCHEON. Clarence—Come, come, old chap! tlafl't give op like that, ye know. Other gentlemen have transgressed the laws unintentionally. You still have friends who will stand by you. Algy —Ah, Clarence, hut the bitter pangs of remorse, ye know, and the fosS of self respect, yo know. Actu ally forgetting me old valet’s face and bowing to him, ye know; and on Rotten Row, Lunnon, of all places, ye know.—[Pittsburg Dispatch. A OOOO REASON WHY. Would-be-COntributor (at editor's desk): Here’s a joke, Mr. Editor, that I’ll guarantee was never In print before. Editor (after reading it): Don’t doubt yottr word in tho least, sir.— [Life. WEARING APPAREL; Custom House official (pulling out a ease of whisky from a large trunk): fiut 1 thought you said you iiad wearing apparel, only, in this trunk. Lady: So I did. Those are my husband’s night caps.—[Philadelphia Life. TOO EASY. Herdso—I don’t eare to marry. Saidso—Why not? Herdso—If I were to marry ft bru nette, in about a week I should wish 1 had married a blonde. Saidso—But your wife would know how to remedy that.—[New York Herald. CUPID CLEARED OF THEFT 1 . “Was that you, sir, who stole a kiss from my daughter in that tun nel?” “No. On the contrary, some one got one from me.”—[Life. KNOWING PAPA. Emily—You dear,sweet, good papa I shall I cut a pink for your button hole? Her Papa—No. Your brother Bob lias got more money than I have to night. Better give it to him.—[Chi cago Record. A HUSTLER. Gosling—And do you mean to say that you have never lost any money in business? Old Grinder—Only by sleep; but that’s a necessary evil! IN TURN, LIKE CLOTHES. - “So your brother lias tiie measles, Johnnie? When are you going lo have them?” “When my brother g^ '’ through with them, I suppose.” names for the twins. “I hear, Clover, that you have an addition to your family?” “Yes, a pair of robust twins.” “What are you going to call them?” “Well, I don’t know. They are boys, and I want names that have a good deal of spirit in them.” “Oh, then you had bolter christen them Tom and Jerry.”—[Boston Ga zette. ONE THING MORE. He—Well, here is aChinose poodle for you that T had to send around tho world for. Now, Is there anything else you need to make you happy ? She (after thinking hard;—Yes, Harry, I think I would like a Dres den china kennel for him.—[Truth. VORACIOUS. First Small Boy—I wish I had that five cents back that 1 spent for candy. Second Small Boy—What would you do with it? First Small Boy—Buy more candy —[Truth. A HINT. Mr. Nevergo (look! ng at the canary) —You ought to cover up that bird at night. Miss Weerie—We do, Mr. Never go. But we uncover him In the morning, you know. WANTED NO INTERFERENCE. Mrs. De Fashion (to her new Chi nese cook)—John, why do tiie Chi nese bind the feet of their women? John—So they not trottee ‘round kitchen and botheroo cook.—[Life. NO JUDGE. Young Artist—It’s an outrage to have such an ignoramus as Puffers on a hanging committee. Friend—No judge of art, eh? Young Artist—IJo is a half-idiot. Why, sir, he thought my cows were horses.—[New York Weekly. RETROGRESSION. Talkum — Professor Garner says that monkeys do not actually con verse, but confine themselves to single remarks on matters of impor tance. Thinkura—Dear me I How man has degenerated I—[Now York Weekly. METEOROLOGICAL. Mathilde—Do you have reindeer In Canada? Underhill (quickly)—Ye*, love; but it sometimes snows. THE SUMMER GIRL. The summer girl is looking round To captivate the beaux; And she will likely do it, for She wears that kind of claox. —[Detroit Free Press. Site deeded him her heart—at least That’s what he thoughtshe meant; But afterwards he found she had But let it out to rent. —[Chicago Retard. She lost her taste for pretty hats, And then for pretty clashes; Tho only thing she cared'for now Was the freckle on her nose. —[Chicago Inter-Ocean. PERFECTLY NATURAL. Customer (in restaurant)—Isn’t it strange, waiter, that I should find so many flies in the soup? Waiter—Well, no, sir; not so very remarkable, considering tiie time of year. Now, if you should find ’em in the soup about Christmas time it would be different.—[King’s Jester. TRACING THE SOURCE. Merritt—How is it, Johnny, that you are such an inveterate young enemy of mine? I have never done anything to you. Little Johnny—Yes, you have. Whenever you come to see Cora she puts tho clock back. That makes me late for school the next day, and then teacher licks me.—[Truth. A POOR MEMORY. May—Why are you so blue to day? Carrie—I quarrelled with Jack yesterday and our engagement is off. May—Can’t you make up friends with him again? Carrie—I wish I could, but I can’t remember what on earth it was we quarrelled about.—[New York World. “BY THEIR WORKS .” Chicago Girl—You have heard of our Mr. Goldbag, of course. .Boston Girl—Goldbag — Goldbag. H’m I Will you name some of hie works? Chicago Girl—Oh, there’s the Con solidated Sausage Factory, tho South Side Packing House and any number of others.—[Puck. ROOM FOR ALL. Enamored Youth—May I hope tc find a place in your heart? Ladylove—If you hurry up. There are only a few choice locations left. —[Des Moines Capital. EASILY MISUNDERSTOOD. Teacher—Johnnie, didn’t I heal you talking a while ago with some other boys about Geo Wash? Johnnie—Yos’m. Teacher—Well, I Wish you would fell me wiio Gee Wash is. Johnnie (surprised) — Don’t you know who he is? Teacher—I think I never heard of him before. Johnnie—Gosh! Wiiy, G. Wash, is George Washington, the papa of his country; first in Teacher—Oil—ah—yes; I thought at first it was a Chinese iuundrymun. —[Detroit Free Press. A POPULAR UPRISING. Tiie stout man with a largo pack age beneath his arm hurried through tho crowded thoroughfare, closely pursued by a small man of haggard aspect. On and on, relentless as the ticking of a clock, the forlorn man dogged tho other, and those who passed him heard an occasional wont drop from his lips, indicative of despair, of aw ful terror. Finally, some of the crowd turned and kept after the pair, determined not to miss anytliingtliat should hap pen. Tho crowd behind grow larger, and, finally, a bold man went up to tho person of haggard countenance. “What’s tiie matter?” he asked. The little man turned. “Matter?” he echoed. “ See that man with a bundle? He is iny next door neigh bor, and in that bundle lie has u cor net which lie has bought for his small son to play upon” But tho crowd waited no longer. It surged ahead with relentless fury, and when peace had been restored tho remains of a battered cornet lay upon tho pavement.—[Judge. Restoration of British Forests. Tho area of the woodland of the British Isles is now reduced to about 3,000,000 acres, which is only 39 acres to each 1,000 of the country’s total area. This is a smaller proportion than that in almost every other Eu ropean country. Austro-Hungary lias 343 acres of forest to each 1,000 acres; Russia, 842; Germany 257; Sweden and Norway, 250; France, 159; Italy, 145; Belgium, 142; Hol land, 72; Denmark, 60. It is esti mated that in addition to about $15,- 000,000 in tropical woods, Great Britain imports annually $60,000,000 worth of oak, ash, pine, etc. It is believed that tho latter expense could be saved to the country by tho afforestation of 6,000,000 acres of what is now waste land—a work that Dr. Schlicic calculated would require 15,000 laborers, if the planting were done at the rate of 800,000 acres yearly, while it would eventually provide steady employment for 100,- 000 persons. This problem is now exciting scientific and official inter est, and ns tho future prosperity of Great Britain depends so largely upon a careful husbanding of its resources, so important a source of wealtli is not likely to bo much longer neg lected.—[Atlanta Journal. CHILDREN’S COLUMN. * * ' A DAINTY XKJTAKD.' . \- Willie and Charlie one day (eSstod well. They had pie made of hopey-eweaMhwiM^ And cookies the crispest ever were batad, ^ And a bowl fall of loveliest berries, , - And the reason their mother gavnthenrthf good things-* ' r 7 Yon have guessed It, my merry ones, iuqp* be— ‘ j » ' * , . Was because evejy time t^at she wenffout td work . * W- They took such good care of the baby. , ' * * ‘ —New Drlean^Tlcayuno, * •/ ‘ a.drum-major’! Dtmfik ’ ' Like poets, dram-mo]bre are* born,- apt made. One may become n drum-major in a week, .While yon. can’t make one of another in a life-time. Without tho knack of handling the stick he will never be an artist, and will, probably at the very moment when he should look his jauntiest, commit the crime, unpardonable in a drum-major, of dropping his left hand to his side. For the left hand should always, except in two-handed move ments with tho stoff, rest, knuckles up, on tho hip. Thus the drum- major’s pose, when not marching or giving a command, is to stand with his left hand on his hip, bis right hand, grasping his stick just below tho head, the point of tho stick rest ing on tho ground. Ho presents a fine, imposing figure as he stands there, erect and tall, two paces in front of the band. Now comes the moment, so glorious to the small boy, when the commands “Play” and “Forward—March” are to be given. Facing tho band, the drum major, with a quick turn of the wrist, points the ferule upward,letting it slant a little to tho right. Then, raising the staff to tho height of his chin, he thrusts it the full length of his arm to the right and draws it back again. This is tho signal to play. Then turning,he points the staff to tho front, thrusts it the full length of his arm forward, and music and march begin. In the old days tho drum major then brought the “canc,” as tho staff was called in the tactics, to the posi tion of “carry sword,” Now tho drum major beats time, setting the “cadence”—the number of steps to a minute—of the march. As a rule he simply repeats again and again the thrust and recover, through which he gives tho command to play. Expert drum-majors, how ever, introduce some fancy movement here. Jorgensen, for instance, has a pretty way of describing a circle from tho front to the back of his right shoulder, grasping the staff in the middle aud twirling it so that tho head points downward at the moment the left foot is to advance. In unskil ful hands this movement is apt to end in disaster, tho ferule striking the drum-major’s back or nose—which puts tho nose out of joint and the band out of time. It is important that the drum-ma jor should mark tho cadence correct ly, as otherwise, not only his own, but all other regiments following, will march too slowly or too rapidly. Tho regiment cadence is 120 steps to the minute; but in Memorial Day parades, when there are many veterans in the procession, tho drum-majors quietly reduce it to ninety. Another clever trick of the drum-major is to seize tho ferule between the fore and middle fingers, swing a full circle with it four or five times, and let go, giving it a slight twist as it leaves bis fingers. The drum-major who gets the knack of the twist and knows enough to al low for the number of steps he will ad vance, can make his staff circle high up in front of him and sail down into his hand again. When tho band is to execute an oblique movement, the drum-major holds his staff in a horizontal position at tho height of his neck, and pointing the ferule iu tho direction of tho oblique, extends his arm to its full length. Tho prettiest evolution of the band is tho countermarch. Tho drum- major “faces tho music” and gives tho sigual to march, but instead of turn ing remains standing with his face toward the baud. Tho band marches upon tho drum-major, but on reaching him tho file leaders to tho right of him wheel to the right, those on tho left to tho left, tho drum-major march ing down through the center. To signal for halt the tall man in the bearskin cap raises thv staff with both hands in a horizontal position above his head, and with arms extend ed drops it in a horizontal position at the height of his hips. With the staff he also indicates to the field music what signal it is to play, and puts tho drum-corps through the manual, for instance, “Put up tho drum-sticks” "Detach tho drums"—"Ground the drums.”—St. Nicholas. Our great grandmothers j their own grave clothes befon