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Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, January 17, 1894, Image 1

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Btonnton Spectator.
Editor" a.n.a. IProprietor.
TERMS, $2.00 A YEAR.
If discontinued before payment, the rate of
per annum will tie charged.
{y Remittances should lie made by check,
draft, postal order, or registered letter.
No. Si s, Auimsta St.
Special attention given to collections. j
CB.W. BARNES, _, ._
No [1 West Main Street,
sept27-tf Staunton, Va.
No. 2. Court House Square.
tag 9-tf
Staunton, Va. ;
jy Prompt attention to collections.
Office No. 4 Lawyers' Row, in rear of Court
Office in Crowle Building, Room 86, 3rd floor
- Office hours from « A, M. to 0 P. M.
may ~7
R. S. Tukk. Henry W. Holt.
No. 8 Lawyers' Row taunton, Va.
No. 6, Court House Alley Stauut on, Va.
mar li-tl
feb 17, '86-tf ____
Rooms, No. 23 S. Augusta Street, Skinner
Building. ' STAUNTON, VA.
aug 10-tf
South Augusta Street, Staunton, Va.
Room No. 3, Up Stairs.
t3&~ Collectious will receive prompt atten
tion. ' sep 25-tf
Harrisonburg. Harrisonburg. Staunton
Prompt and etflci jnt attention given to all
business given to their care. Strayer & Lig
gett will continue tlie practice of law at Har
risonburg, as heretofore.
ptf Office in County building, over Treasur
er's Office.
Offers his professional services to the citi
zens of Staunton. Office No. 121, East Mtain
Office in County building above the Sheriff's
Prompt attention given to all legal business
entrusted to him, iv State or Federal Courts.
lune l-tf
Attoenev-at-Law and Commissioner in
jan 4-tf STAUNTON, VA.
Offers his professional services to the public
generally. Will practice in all the courts held
in the eitv of Staunton and Augusta county;
attend regularly the Circuit Courts of Rock
bridge and Alleghanv counties and practice in
t he Court ol Appeals at Staunton. dec
C. A.
Special attention given to corporation : 1
real-estate law.
Having closed up all outside business, whicli
for a year or two Interrupted my regular law
practice, I am now enabled to. and shall, from
ithis time, give my undivided time and axclu
sive attention to the lnw; ami to such persons
as my entrust me with their litigation, I prom
ise my best efforts and such ability as 1 may
possess. dan 18-tf
Practice limited to the
Formerly f onsulting Oculist and Aurist to the
I,imis City Hospital, and Surgeon in charge
of the Missouri Eye and Ear infirmary, St.
Office:—Over Augusta Nat'l Bank, Staun
ton, Va.
Hou rs.- -'•» A. M. till 1 P. M.-. 3 P. M. till 5 P. M.
march il-lvr
In addition to our stock of Groceries, Flour,
Feed and Leather, we have opened a
New Haress Store
at 38 S. Augusta street, next to our old stand
where we will lie prepared to furnish harnes
of all kinds at reasonable prices. We ar
making hand-made work a specialU, but al
ways keep machine work to suit cusWVjers.
RgHDfiH Neatly and Onicilv Done.
atrreason/ible charges. Mr. M. E. Carrier Is
with us. and will be irlad. to see his old friends
ami customers. It will be to your interest to
call onus and set prices berore purchasing
J. A. Fauver & Co.
feb 22 '93 ly
On the Ist of September, IRH3, a new Arm fo
the sale of
Fresh and Cured Meats,
was formed by Mr. Kudolph Kinsley's taking
into partnership with him Mr. William 11.
Knowles. Mr. Kinzley has been for many
years engaged in that business, and is well and
favorably known to the trade, and Mr.
Knowles. who has been with bis brother, Mr.
A. Lee knowles, in that business, is also well
and favorably known as an experienced and
aocomxnodlng man in that line of business.
The business will be conducted at the old
stand or Kudolph Kinzlev, NO. 14 KOKTH
AIidSTA STKKKT, under the firm name as
their line of business. They desire the con
tinued patronage of old friends and solicit the
acquaintance of new ones.
sept fi-lyr
—the —ri nullum
\..i\ .|a a i 9 *g %g b a I tl E 8
Eeat Sot Worttu in tho Wood.
fi a fi" s *. c% it J ■
Upn II . !*EEj»liiu
Received the Modal and High sstS*A ward
at!h c . World's Columbian Cx-osition.
Warranted ths S**l mad*) Sit • '■ Miijfl tfachineni
an 1 Stand ir4 \z ■ im ni Bert Qizl
ily .it :- ■■'■■ ■■■:, | iut !:■::-.: Gate] uo.
A. B. FARQUHAfi CO., Ltd.,
dec 2T-3mos
Staunton UP Spectator.
The Old Friend
And the best friend, that never
fails you, is Simmons Liver Regu
lator, (the Red Z) —that's what
you hear at the mention of this
excellent Liver medicine, and
people should not be persuaded
that anything else will do.
It is "the King of Liver Medi
cines ; is better than pills, and
takes the place of Quinine and
Calomel. It acts directly on the
Liver, Kidneys and Bowels and
gives new life to the whole sys
tem. This is the medicine you
want. Sold by all Druggists in
Liquid, or in Powder to be taken
dry or made into a tea.
Has the Z Stamp In red on wrapper.
J. H. ZEILIN & CO., Philadelphia, Fa.
June 2S-ly.
Hours tor Arrival aid Closing of Mails at Slam
ton Pastolce.
5 a. ni. from north, south, east and west.
9.16 a. ni. from west.
2.30 p. in. from Clifton Forge and intermediate
11.56 a. in. from Richmond and intermediate
0.45 p. m. from north, east and south,
ny n. and o.
7.04 a. in. from Lexington and intermediate
1.40 p. in. from the north.
0.45 p. m. from the north, Harper's Ferry and
intermediate points.
star routes.
7 a. m. from Plunkettsville, daily except Sun
10 a. m. from Mt. Meridian, daily except Sun- ;
sp. m. from Middlebrook, daily except Sun
5.80 p. ni. from Monterey, daily except Sunday.
8.30 a. in. for Lexington, Harper's Ferry and
points nortii.
IDS a. m. for Harrisonburg, Woodstock and
points north. I
1.10 p. in. for Lexington.
4.00 p. m. for Fort Defiance.
li.oo p. m. for Lexington and intermediate
points. ;
fore. *nu o.
8.4."> a. m. and 2 p. in. for north, east, south.
ti.Oil p. in. for east, north, south and west.
11.25 a. in. for Clifton Forge aud intermediate
0.00 p. m. for tha west.
5.30 a. ni. for Monterey.
ii.oo a. m. for Middlebrook.
1.00 p. m. for Mt. Meridian.
0.15 p. in. for Plunkettsville.
12.30 p. in. for Mt. Solon, Tuesday, Thursday
and Saturday.
Opens 7a. in., closes 7 p. m. Money order
and registry business opens at 8 a. in., closes 0
p. ni \V. T. McCUE. P. M. i
— n
The undersigned have removed their Ladies
:ind Gentlemen's Restaurant to the Hurley
Building on the corner of Main and Lewis
streets, where they hope their old patrons will
call upon them as heretofore as they will be
better prepared to accommodate them. They
will take regular boarders, to a number of
whom they can furnish lodging or rent rooms
as well as'board at cheap rates. Remember
tne place—Hurley Bunding, seconu story,
corner Main and Lew is Streets.
feb 3rd
Successors to DANIEL & Co.,
Wall Paper,
and manufacturers of
keeping the Rest Line of
ever brought to Staunton, also
Violin, Banios id Mars,
and all necessary repairs for same, the only
stock of strings of all kinds kept in city.
feb22 lvr
R. W. Smith,
Has moved his shop and store from East
Main street to
Bagby's New Building,
Opposite the Episcopal Churchyard He keeps
a complete stock of
for steam heating, gas, water and general
plumbing, and does
All Work in First-Class Style
Terra Cotta Pipe and Chimney Pipes on har.d'
may 11-tf
[email protected] lilll
Snv mLsek-lwH r:r*n!
HEAD-|| y%M
Try the Cure^S^S»^fe^
Ely*s Cream Halm
Cleanses tl-elftusalPassages. Al
lays Mamm--.lion. Heals the Sores,
■Restores the Senses of sfcste, Sraeil
and Hearing.
A PE.rti;-Ie isal>p!i;i«l Into each nonrril ano
is agreinHc. Prier 50c. Nt Dri:a«is<» or by
mail. ELY BROTHELS,;;,, Warren St, New York.
In the street where ! live, at the end of tho
There is never a rattle of wheels up and down.
But the lullaby music of rustling leaves
And thee hirnipiif snug little birds in the eaves,
While the aisles that baas inthe trees o'er the
Are as redaß the «n?. when he leers through the
And the sunshine is filtering ever between
Old nature's own blending of orange and green.
For the leaves in the clear autumn lime are as
As the dress ol the little miss over the way
When she nip-, with that charm that demure
ness can
To the little gray church m the street where I
, . live.
There are eyes gray ai.e lendei and eyes blue
and s\\ eel
Thai took through the window* that face on
my street!
And a iileus'.nt iDure ia, when the Lours grow
( In watching the lovers who hang o'er the gate
! And whisper such nothings as lovers will give,
| In the shadows that fall in the street where I
I • live.
fin the street where 1 live—ah, 'us many long
' Since I lived there in truth, and 'tis ouly
through tears
j 1 can see the old place. For the street it has
j Till the highway is paved, and the houses are
And 'tis only in dreams, when the stars glim
mer down.
That I live in the street at the end of the town.
—Charles Gordon Rogers.
David Elliott was what is called a
good boy. He thought it was wrong to
crib and would not for anything have
opened his Homer during "Rep,"
though if the fellow next him hap
pened to have a loose leaf on his knee
that was another matter, of course, and
he saw no harm in taking a glance at
that just before getting on his legs. He
had a hatred of bullying—especially
when he firs! went to school —and was
always most kind to the small boys.
Everybody knows that a certain amount
of discipline is good for them, and that
if they become arrogant the truest kind
ness is to show them their real position
in society, and this David always did
by a moderate and judicious use of the
middle stump. He was never cruel to
dumb animals.
Cats, by tho way, are not dumb an
imals, as everybody who has ever bro
ken a cat's leg with a stone well knows;
indeed they are really beasts of prey,
so that chivying them is nothing but
tiger hunting on a small scale. Above
all, he never told lies. Ho was always
strictly accurate in his statements, and
if people sometimes carried away a
wrong impression after asking him a
question it was always because they
had not put it properly.
In tho midsummer vacation, when
David was 1 1, he went to spend a week
or two at Ingleby manor, where his un
cle, Sir Walter Elliott, lived. He was
much better off than David's father,
who was tho youngest son and a clergy
man, and from whom David had learn
ed his love of truth.
Now Ingleby manor was a very nice
place for a boy to spend his summer
holidays in It stood in a large park
with a lake in it, in which there were
quite a number of fish. A punt was
moored in one corner of the lake, and a
stream ran cut of it in which there were
delightful little pools for bathing and
plenty of water rats that were always
ready tor a romp with the terriers. In
the house were a billiard table, with a
whole set of poo! balls, and a room full
of guns. In the stables there were six
or seven horses, and a number of degs
lived in different parts of the place.
There were also a skittle alley and a
large kitcheu garden. In fact, it was
a perfect paradise, and like every other
paradise it contained an Eve—and a
6erpent—both cousins of David. The
Eve was named Lucia. She was a year
younger than David, but she always
showed promise of growhig into -what
she now is—the handsomest woman in
the county. She was an orphan and
spent a good deal of her time with her
uncle, who was very foud of her, as in
deed was everybody else.
David fill in love with her at once,
and tho more he loved her the more he
disliked his other cousin Hughio. He
also despised him and considered him a
scug, which is a rude word and one not
to be used to anybody who is big enough
to punch the head of the boy using it.
Indeed, though Hugh was not altogeth
er a gentleman; still less was he alto
gether a cad. He was a very handsome
boy and gentlemanlike enough in somo
things, but ho was not dressed quite
liko the boys at David's school, and ho
did not know how to treat servants.
Worse than all, ho dropped hish's —not
always, but only if he got excited about
David will never forget the look that
camo on his uncle's face when, as they
were watching a county match one aft
ernoon, Hugh cried out, "Well 'it, sir;
well 'it indeed!" He turned quite
pale and said, very quietly, "Come,
boys, 1 think we've seen enough of
this, "and they had to leave the ground,
although the second inning was only
just beginning. But, in spite of this,
Lucia liked Hughie much better than
she did David. When sho climbed a
tree, it was always to him that she
called to help her down, and when they
played cricket she never cared how far
she had to run after the ball if Hughie
had hit it. Onee —it was a very hot
afternoon, and David couldn't get
Hughie out —he called out for fun,
"Well 'it, sir, indeed!" Hughie only
laughed, but she turned as red as a
turkey cock and walked off into the
house, leaving David to field as well as
bowl. She and Hughie used to go off
for long walks together, leaving David
to lounge about by himself and wish
that his uncle would send Hughie back
to his mother, little knowing that the
time was close at hand when he would
be very near to being sent home in dis
grace himself.
Now, the uncle of these boys was a
man who thought a great deal about
eating and drinking. Indeed ho
thought of little else, for he was too
lazy to walk aud too fat to care about
riding and never opened a book by any
chance. One reason that he liked David
better than Hugh—which at that time
he certainly did—was that Hughie had
an immense, healthy appetite, which
led him to devour anything ho could
get, without much carirg what it was
60 long as there was plenty of it.
whereas David w;:s much move partic
ular, and generally took-only what he
had-seen his ancle take, knowing that
that was pretty certain to be the best.
It happened al out this time that a
friend of Sir Waiter who was in tho
embassy al St. Peters! nrg sent him a
jar of some very special Russian deli
cacy which cannot be got in England,
even if an Englishman conld be found
(lever enough to pronounce its name.
It was a sort of caviare. It looked like
black jam and tasted like a mixture
or sea water and vineger. imt ne wa#
charmed with his pres i;t, and as
jar was a small one, ar; ! he had been
warned to keep it out nf a draft, or
away from tbe liglit, or some such
thing, he \vi .ili] not tin t the servants
wilh it, Imi kept it in i special phue
in the dining room. II did not offer
any of it to his young j nests, and this
made Lucia very anxious to taste it. lor
she was a greedy little thing and ale
almost as lunch fruit us liugliie him
One morning when D» vid was pass
ing the window he pee] d i:i and saw
Miss Lucia, with the j r in one hand
and a spent! in the other, eating tliis
horrible nn :<s as if it ri ally had been
jam. lie watched her fo* a minute or
two, and tin a went' suddenly into the
room. She screamed ai ;! dropped tbe
jar on the ground, \ I.tie it was
smashed. Then she began to cry and
said it was all his fault for startling
her and implored him not to tell any
body. To show how food ho was of
her David promised not to say any
thing about it, and she ran away, leav
ing him to pick up the pieces and
scrape up as much of the caviare as he
could, which wasn't much. She did
not make her appearance at luncheon.
She sent down to say that she did not
feel very well, which, between a guilty
conscience and too much caviare, is
quite likely to have been very true.
Sir Walter looked for his precious jar,
and not seeing it told the butler to put
it on the table.
'Tf you please, Sir Walter," the man
said, looking shyly at David, "there's
none of it left; it's all gone."
Sir Walter only said, "Oh, indeed,"
hut he looked as if he meant to say a
good deal more at some other time.
Later in the afternoon he sent for David
and told him that the servants denied
having touched his caviare, aud that
as he had been seen in the dining room
that morning ho concluded that ho had
eaten it. He was sorry that David
should have allowed other people to run
the risk of bearing unjust blame. He
didn't mind tbe loss particularly, but
was sorry that David had been so reti
David glanced past his uncle's sad
face to where his little playmate sat on
a window ledge, a solemn look on hei
childish face.
Then David had an idea 'i did not
take it, uncle," he said.
"Who did?'
"It was 'Ugh," said David, still
looking at the girl. What he said to
himself that In said was, 'It wasyou."
If misunderstood, was it his fault?
"No, doubt, no doubt, " muttered the
kindly old gentleman, wilh a troubled
look, "but but —I'd rathi i you hadn't
And all Hugh's astonished denialsdid
not save him from punishment.
A dozen years and more have passed
over Ingleby manor and those whom it
sheltered during theso summer holi
days. Sir Walter Elliot is still alive,
but he is getting very old, and it seems
as if he had not many more years to
live. Lucia is now a spoiled beauty,
who rules the manor and i verybody in
it, David a bard working curate, and
Hugh has been sent by hil.i to an army
tutor, has passed into and out of Sand
hurst and is now a lieutenant in"tho Q.
D. ». (Irish Chestnuts). Only the
house is unchanged amid all the
changes, and as David stands, after
dinner, on the terrace that runs outside
the long drawing room and watches in
the clear summer sky,
Sur le clecher jauni.
La lone
Comme un point sur un i,
his mind flies back to that unfoigotten
summer when he first saw tho place.
What a happy time it was- after Hugh
had left- and what a pretty child Lucia
was! Even tlun he was ra love with
her, and now- now that she was in the
full bloom of her beauty-- what more
can ho say than that he is in love with
hei still V Will she ever retui n his love?
He has been in the house a week, and he
hardly dares put the question to him
self. And yet his visit ends tomorrow.
Can ho go back to his dingy parish,
leaving it still unasked and unan
swered? Suddenly a white shimmer
ing cloud, in the midst of which a
spark burns brightly, appears round the
corner of the house and moves toward
him with a froufrou of silk. The next
minute Lucia is standing before him, a
filmy lace shawl over her dark hair, a
cigarette between her red lips aud a
saucy smile in her eyes.
"May 1 offer you one?" she asks de
murely. "Thereare no bishops about,"
and she holds out a silver case with her
monogram enameled in red on the side.
He takes a cigarette with a smile and
lights it from her awkwardly, for he is
no smoker, and is wonderiDg what his
rector would say if he could see him at
that moment. Lucia laughs at him
softly, springs on tho balustrade that
runs along the terrace and sits perched,
swinging her huff colored slippers like
a schoolboy and blowing tiny perfumed
clouds into the midsummer night air.
The diamond buckles on her insteps
twinkle in the moonlight and then dis
appear under billowy lace that peeps
out under her frock.
"There; now I'm quite happy," she
says contentedly. "It's a perfect night.
Uncle Walter's asleep, and I've got a
young man to talk to and lour ciga
rettes to smoke. What more can a girl
He leans over the balustrade beside
her and looks out over the moonlit
park, thinking how he shall approach
the subject nearest to his heat.
''Do you remember," he sska sud
denly, "do you remember the first sum
mer we spent here together, ye a and I?"
The girl's eyes sparkle with amuse
ment. "Rather." she says. "What
fun we had! It was the first time I'd
ever had.boys to play with, and I was
simply wild
He looks out over the park. "1 won
der who's going to have this place when
—if anything should happen to my un
cle?" he says thoughtfully. Lucia
looks up suddenly, with a smib-.
"Don't you know?' she says. "Has
he not told you? He's left it to you."
David starts violently and drops his
I cigarette on the gran. Is it possible
j that those hopes iv which ho has never
I dared to indulge are to bo fulfilled, and
j that he is to be the heir of the ancle
! who has always seemed so completely
indifferent to him? Happy David! Is
there anything else on earth which ho
has to wish for? Yes; ono tiling, and
one only.
"And what about yourself? 5 ' be asks
"Oh, I'm till right. I'm to have
£15.000. There's no secret about it.
Uncle Walter told me so last year when
j Charles S aulamoro wanted me to marry
I him."
David is quivering with excitement.
"And you wouldn't?" ho says in a
low voice. "Yet it would have been a
good match. I wonder why?"
| "Well —no; 1 wouldn't."_she says
siuwiy, looK-.ng at ura point or nCi m:p
per. Then she looks up, laughs a little
and ends her laugh with a small sigh.
"Why, did you say? Who knows?
Perhaps 1 liked somebody else better
somebody who hadn't nsked me In
marry hint,"
A wild hope Hashes through his
brain. "Was it—was he—somebody
nearer?" lie stammers—"a cousin, tor
She glances quickly at him and
turns away her bead; all her affeein
tiou of fastness is gone, and he sees her
as she is.
"How did 5ou guess that?" she whis
pers. "I must have kept my secret
very badly."
He seizes her hand. 'Lucie," he
says earnestly, "tell me, do you love
Her slight figure- quiver* -hut she
will not answer.
"Tell me who it is," ha urges pas
Slowly she lets fall thu words, "What
would you think of me if I said Mint it
was you?"
Ten minutes later he Is still there
alone with his happiness.
Suddenly he turns as he hears a light
footfall, and she is beside him again.
"What is it, dearest?" he asks.
"Have you picked up anything?" she
inquires, smiling. "I dropped some
thing while I was sitting here—a— a
A newborn jealousy flares up in his
eyes. "A letter? From whom?"
"Don't laugh tit me, dear," she says
shyly. "It was only a letter from you."
He smiles very tenderly. The only
letter ho has ever written to her is one
in acceptance of his uncle's invitation
a fortnight ago.
"From me? Why, you silly child,
there was nothing in that worth keep
A few days afterward the Key. David
Elliott was returning to his lodgings
after visiting his district. He wanted
his luncheon badly and was very tired
and rather disgusted, for the old wom
en had been particularly querulous and
troublesome and even more than usual
ly inclined to overestimate the value of
their attendance at the early celebra
tion. Ho had been positively refused
admission into one cottage, through tho
window of which he could have sworn
he saw the burly form and coarse Irish
features of Father Flaunigan, from St.
Joseph's, ft is rector, too, had been
snappish and as nearly rude as a cler
gyman over permits himself to bo to a
brother priest. But ho consoled him
self for these little annoyances by think
ing how short a time he should have
to endure them and how different his
positi."-. .7oi;ld be in a few years -per
hajs months. Ho was expecting are
ply to a passionate lovo letter which he
had written to Lucia immediately on
his return, and as he put the key into
his door he thought how pleasant it
would be, after his hunger was satis
fied, to sit down by the window and read
the six or seven sheets of which it would
no doubt consist. Immediately he ran
up stairs and threw open tho door of his
sitting room. A tall young mam, whose
forehead was to some extent sinister,
argent and brickdust, and who wore a
thick, yellow niestache, rose as ho en
tered, aud coming toward him with a
cavalry swagger held out his hand.
"I've been making myself at home." he
■aid apologetically. "Hope you don't
object to smoking in your quarters.
Long time since we met, isn't it? Don't,
remember me—Hugh Elliott?"
David stared at his visitor; he had a
feeling that something had gone wrong.
"Oh, of course, " he said nervously,
taking his cousin's hand and dropping
it directly. "Very glad to see you, I'm
ture. I—eh—didn't know you wero
in this part of the world. Very good
of you to come and look me up. You'll
have some lunch, of course."
"Oh, thanks, awfully, but I'm afraid
I've no time. There's a train at 1:30 I
leave, and I had a devil—l mean a
deuce of a job to get that. No—fact
is, I came up to see about--well, about
a letter you wrote to Lucia." He hand
ed an envelope to David, who began to
feel rather sick.
"But," he began, with as much dig
nity as the sudden beating ot his heart
allowed, "may I ask—by what right—
you interfere —with"
"Oh, for heaven's sake, don'ttakethat
tone, there's a good fellow," said the
dragoon good humoredly. "You see,
Lucia's so d—n—l mean so awf'ly
fond of chaff; she'll get herself into a
deuce of a mess 6ome of these days, as
she is never so happy as when she's
makin a fool of 6orno one, just as she's
been doin to you. And you must have
been goin very badly about what's iD
that letter, but sho seems to think bet
ter of it now, and sho sent for me and
gave me my orders to tell you she was
only chaffin you."
David had sunk into a chair and was
now quite palo and trembling.
"She told me she'd refused Sir
Charles Scudamore because she loved
me," be groaned, "and that if she ever
married anybody it would be mo and
nobody else."
The dragoon shook his head and
looked grave. "Too bad," he said
sympathetically. "Shereally shouldn't,
you know. It really isn't fair to ■ fel
David jumped up from his chair in a
passion. "And sho sent you here to
tell me this," ho cried angrily. "I
don't believe it. No girl could be so
"It's true enough," said Hugh.
"Seems odd, doesn't it? but she's a
queer girl. We've been engaged for
three months, and it'll come off as soon
as I get my troop. It's a very good ar
rangement, because I'm to have the
manor, yon know."
David smiled —unpleasantly. "Are
you suro of that?" Ho asked.
"Why, yes certain, unless my un
cle should change his mind."
"Then. I suppose."said David bitter
ly, "that it was only in pursuance of
her peculiar vein of humor that Lucia
told mo that he'd left the manor to
The dragoon pulled his mustache and
looked uncomfortable.
"Oh, come, 1 say!" ho said. "A
joke's a joko, but that's goiu a little
too far. Aren't yon mistaken about
that? What did she say?"
"She said," replied David slowly,
" 'Don't you know? Uncle Walter's
left it to you?' "
The dragoon considered deeply for a
few minutes; then ti smile broke out on
his sunburnt face and ho laughed heart
ily. "What a wicked little thing it
is!" he said admiringly. "I see now
what she meant by sayin 1 was to ask
you if you remembered that she told
you she'd dropped a letter outside the
"Yes," David said drearily, "I re
member. What has that to do with
"My cood fellow, don't JOB. 6.96? The
letter siie iiriippeti was tm a. fine
■in ant In say that he'd left it to Hugh
1 li.it is me. : «Xt?liattgtt
Orlgii: i>l the Historic Ded, White and
151 lie Colon of t'raiiec.
Some TO or SO years before France
was inve.h-d in tbe flames of the revo
lution —that is. at the epoch of the war
of the succession, when she was in
close alliance with Spain and Bavaria
—it was thought desirable to distin
guish the allied soldiers by a cockade,
which combined the colors of the three
nations —the white of France, the red
of Spain, and tho blue of Eavaria.
To none of such incidents, however,
would it be wise to attribute the origin
of the historic tricolor and cockade
adopted 1 y revolutio.iary France. At
the outset there seemed a likelihood
that green, which Camille Desmoulins
had popularized at tho Palais Royal,
would have become tho national color,
hut men remembered in time that it
was that of the livery of the Comte
d'Artois, the most unpopular of the
Bourbon princes, and it was thereupon
A proposition was then made to as
sume the colors of the city of Paris —
blue and red, M Dumas reminds us in
his "Six Ans Apres." To these'was
added the white of so many glorious
memories, because it. had been selected
by the national guard —always faithful
to the throne and its traditions.
Not until some months after, the cap
ture of the Bastille was tho tricolor
definitely adopted when Bailly and La
fayette presented it to LonisXVl in the
great hall of the Hotel de Ville, and the
convention issued a decree in which it
was described as consisting of three
colors— "disposees en trois bandes
egales, de maniere que le bleu soit at
tache a la garde dv pavilion, le blano
an milieu, et le rouge flottant dans les
airs"—that is, in equal vertical sec
tions, with the blue inward, the red
outward and the white between.
This is the historic flag which Na
poleon's legions, in conjunction with
their eagles, bore victoriously from tho
Seine to the Elbe, the Tagns, the Boro
dino and tho Danube, which they plant
ed victoriously on the walls of almost
every European capital.—AH the Year
The Greatness i.f Little Thing. Again.
Here is a good comic opera story:
Marie Wainwright was speaking of her
nervousness on the first night of a new
production, and she said that an absurd
contretemps nearly threw her off her
balance during a first night. She con
tinued :'' Perhaps you remember that
as Dame Hannah in 'Ruddigore' I had
to go on with a small dagger, with
which I wns supposed to threaten the
wicked baronet's life. When my turn
came round, the dagger had disappeared
and was nowhere to he found. Noth
ing would induce me to go on without
my property, and although Mr. Bar
rington implored me to appear without
it I was resolute. Of course there was
a terrible s*;;ge wait, and at last Air.
Barringtnn grew desperate, and forcing
something into my hand absolutely
pushed me on to the stage. And what
do you think it was?" asked Mis? Wain
wright, laughing at the reminiscence.
"Of all things, it was a largo gas key!
I contrived, however, to conceal tho
absurd makeshift from the audience,
but when 1 had to hand my supposed
dagger to Mr. Grossmith ho most un
kindly gave me away. 'How can I kill
myself with this thing?' he said, hold
ing up tho gas key in its entirety to t) c
audience. Of course there was a per
fect howl of laughter, and for some
minutes we were unablfi to continue."
—New York Recorder.
A Cheerful Time.
A Sunday or two ago one of our pop
ular dentists had quite a picnic in the
exercise of his profession. A suffering
citizen said to his wife as she started
for church, "If you meet Dr. , send
him over." She did happen to meet
him, and the man of forcep3 was soon
with the suffering citizen, whose cour
age fell to zero on seeing him. "Fact
was he didn't, think his wife would
meet the doctor, and if the latter would
accept payment for his trouble he
would he glad to have him go away
without torturing an unwilling vic
tim." "Let's see the offender," said
the dentist, and then, following up the
advantage, he soon had five grinders
where they wonld do no more aching.
Suffering citizen was then a happy man,
and desiring to also make happy a neigh
bor whom he knew was afraid of a den
tist he inveigled Mr. P. into the dread
presence, and after some coaxing out
came 12 snags to make way for a set.
Then the neighbor, in his great sense of
relief, called in his wife, who yielded
seven more to the harvest. By this
time the man afraid of a dentist, who
had had out 12, concluded it was just
fun and sat down for a pull of three
more. Then the doctor was out of busi
ness and counted up 27 samples of jaw
misery as the result of his friendly call.
—Old Colony (Mass.) Memorial.
He Was "No Slouch" at Pool.
He was tall, lean and lanky, wore a
peaked cap, had hayseed in his hair
and resembled a typical farmer from
the remotest part of up country. Ho
was interested in watching a game cf
pool in a Smith street resoit and was
full of exclamations and comments as
the game progressed. Then he was in
veigled into a game with people who
imagined that they had a dead cinch on
him. The long arms and lank legs hung
all over the table for a moment, and
then the game was over. An expert
was at once pitted against him for
money, and tho betting on the outside
became even. But the expert, like the
man who drove the hearse, was not in
it when tho countryman had finished
playing. "Gosh all hemlock!" observed
tho up country individual, "I reckon I
am kinder soft, but you kin bet your
boots I'm no slouch when it comes to
shovin pool balls." And then ho pulled
out a salt bag, deposited his winnings
in the deepest corner and shuffled out,
leaving the vanquished bettors to ru
minate upon the perverscness of human
judgment.—Brooklyn Standard Union.
Eisy Stiiirs to Climb.
There is a great deal of stair climb
ing to te done litre before we shall
"climb dem golden staiis," and those
who are about to build would do well
'to see to it that, all tho stairs be made
as easy as possible. Tho very acme ol
ease is reached in stairs that have treads
12 to IS inches broad and risers 5 to 1
inches high. The run or distance in
most houses is too short to allow of this,
but they should come as near it as the
architect of tho house will permit. It
is so easy to climb such stairs that one
hardly is aware of any effort. Num
bers of incurably broken down women
owe their bad health to the steep stairs
which they have been obliged to climb
; daily.—Exchange,
An Industry Not Much Cbi crster-d In
Which the Flgwrct Are Blpsth >«■
It Provides Employment !■'■sr Thousand..
Evolution of the Paper lie\.
In the multiplicity of modern con
veniences the paper los holt's a front
place. Half i century ago the dry
goods deale sent an empty
box to the litti,. daughter or hi . gular
customer as a mark of special favor.
Boxes wove then used uuly ly the
wholesale Ileuses to semi mil llien goods
in, and the retailer kept ihrm to show
his wares in. Now tin: customer insists
upou his purchase being placed iv a
neat box. Not only is this so in tho
dry goods business, but In every other
business. The oyster fry in a box a3 a
peacemaker was a popular joke half a
dozen years ago. now they put ico
cream In boxes, and all sorts of things.
Candy used to be sold in paper bags;
the smallest porch** has to be put in
a box. The saucy confectioner might
hand a paper bag to a woman who had
made a small purchase, but uever to v
man. The man is probably more par
ticular about his parcel than a woman.
He hates to be seen carrying parcels
anyway, and those he does carry must
be thoroughly well disguised. If he
buys a bottle of whisky, he must havoit
in a box, so that his friends may mis
take it tor a pair of shoes.
It is not surprising, therefore, that
paper box making should have grown
into an important industry. In this
city alone no less than 5,000 girls are
employed In it. It is a comparatively
clean, healthy business, is regular and
is well paid, the wages averaging be
tween $7 and $10 a week. There are
in this city 75 linns engaged in the
business, but three fourths of it is done
by 10 large firms, whoso individual out
put will inn from $100,000 to ijUoO.OOO
a year. As the average cost of a paper
box is 5 cents, you can foi in some idea
from this ot the enormous number that
are used. One candy maker alone dur
ing the month of December last used
$10,000 worth of boxes.
Philadelphia, Boston and Chicago are
also prominent in this industry, and
the workmen and girls employed by the
firms of those cities i-annot be much less
than 20,000. There are small firms,
too, in every large city, in addition to
which many largo manufacturers make
their own paper boxes.
The first paper box maker was George
W. Plumly, who started iv the busi
ness at Philadelphia in 1546. He aud
his partner cut out the boxes, their only
tools being a straight edge, compasses,
Shoe knife and i issors. Tbey employed
five girls to paste aud for si v or seven
years had a monopoly of the bus'ness.
Then Charles W. Jencka started in the
business in Providenco and introduced
a rough Scoring machine to cat partly
through the cardboard where i' is fold
ed !.o make the box. At that time it
was a struggle to obi tin prop i- ;.iate
rials. There wero few paper mill iv
the country, and the straw board used
was very poor Staff, not two sheets
coming out of tbe mill of 11; : same size.
It was made by hand of straw, meadow
hay, refuse straw from stables, dried iv
the open air on tho ground, and conse
quently was often 'tiled with sand,
which w tdi '. inten sting for the cut
ters. Tho best quality of mill board
was all imported.
In those early days the young women
in the paper box factories made boxes
as their mothers made pica, "one at a
time and that one well." A girl who
could make piesquickly and well could
make boxes in a similar style. The
operations were somewhat similar.
Thero was the same manner ol cutting
out material, tho same caressing way
of patting down and smoothing out the
box coverings us Ihe pit-crust and the
same way ot trimming off surplus ma
terial. Now everything is done by ma
chinery in paper box making, aud the
girls have nothing to do but feed the
material to the machines.
George A. Dickerman of Boston
started iv the business in 1868 in Bos
ton, and about 1870 a Frenchman named
Ronyon introduced the business in this
city. The old fashioned way of scoring
the pasteboard with a rule and a cob
bler's knife continued until 1871, when
the first machine was introduced. This
was the invention of Mr. Bigelow of
New Haven. This scoring machine
was such a success thai a number of
firms sprang up. Six years after a man
named Marshall of Boston madb a
lighter and easier running machine,
and in 1881 John T. Robinson & Co.
invented thb present scoring machine.
The trouble with the former machines
was in the time it took to adjust the
knives to a new size or pattern of box.
In tho Robinson scorer there are two
sets ot knives, so that one set can be
adjusted while the other is being used.
Nowadays the whole of the material
is made in this country, and it is a sat
isfaction to know that the scoring ma
chines and tho boxmaklng machines
are all the result of Yankee ingenuity.
Paper boxes are used all over the world
now, and all the world has to get its
machines from this country. In France
paper boxes are still made by hand by
many firms, but the machines have been
introduced thero, and it will not belong
before these Yankee inventions will be
at work in all their factories.
The boxmaker now receives $2 for
the same work he got $5 for 21 years
ago, yet he makes a larger profit and is
able to pay higher wages. The ma
chines are uncomplicated and not ex
pensive. The business gives steady
employment, as there is p-actically no
particular season, and when not work
ing on orders tho machines are running
on stock, oi which a large supply has
always to be kept on band.
Such is the rapid growth, of tho paper
box indutsry, which now has thr< c good
trade papers to represent its interests.
—New York Advertiser.
"Mocking Catching."
An actress who has played for several
years the part of an old and crooked
i woman ia a play that has had an ex
tended run is obliged to give up the rols
' for a curious reason. She finds that sho
is growing one sided and to have a pro
: nounced stoop that does not vanish
when she leaves the stage.—Exchange.
A Source of Comparative Warmth.
Mrs. Hashcrof t—Does the register heat
your room, Mr. Billings?
Billings—lt seems to when the sun ia
not shining.
"What on earth has the sun to do
with it?"
"Why, when the sun shines into the
room it warms up the air a bit, and then
the draft from the register feels cold."—
Indianapolis Journal.
Advertisements ate inserted at the rated of
for each subsequent insertion.
bi.S cents pee me. for the first, and UV cent
Local Notices are inserted at the rate of
cents per line for the first, and lv cents for
each subsequent insertion.
Business Notices are inserted at the rate ot
15 cents for the Brst and s cent s for euch sub
sequent Insertion
A liberal discount will be made on all orders
for :>, ii, or 1- months.
Obituaries, Announcements of Candidates
for office, and all communications of a person -
al or private character, will be chaixod for as
NO. 21.
trouble; the woman who
f,. L doLcatc, rtiu-.l'j-.vn, or
■ overworked. Sbe'i hol
low -checked, did!-eyed,
ft ci. . and pale, and it
fig ki worries her.
\\ r How, the way to look
AJ well is to be well. And
Ay the way to be well, if
you're any such woman,
I ~~^— : *~r l\ fa to I'aitui'ull;. uso Dr.
/ _£J Pierces Fa\ orite Pre-
scription. That is the
\~ff~~~ )},// only medicine that's
I /'Wt ouanrafasd to build up
J a '/'// woman's strength and to
cure woman's ailments.
In Aery '• female complaint," irregularity,
or w.-.e. :es3, and \\\ cv ry cxhausleii condi
tion of the female system —if it ever fails
to benefit or cure, you havo your money
There i* only one medicine for Ca
i:rrh worthy liie name. Dozens are
advertised, but only the proprietors of ■
Dr. Sage's Catarrh Remedy say this:
•Ml" we can't rare you, we'll pay you—
0500 iv ca-h I"
anril 5. 'Wl-lv.
write pucois ft ducois, Fated Attorneys.
Inventive Ace Building,
Book Fim. Mention this paper.
W| || AIfPH »n<l Opium Habit*
PflS*Cf¥ I—W cu "ed at h^iliii'with
flfMll JT I outpain.Bookofpar-
BiV*f Slkii I tienlarstentFßEE.
A*"-- - •. Ga. nGcoliM^VThitchallSt.
aug 10-ly
First Presbyterian Church, on Frederick St
between New and Market streets, services
II a. ni. and sp. m. Pastor, Rev. A. M. Fraser
Trinity Episcopal church. Main street, be
tween Lewis and Church streets. Services a
11 a. m.. and Bp. m. Rector, Rev. W. y. Hu
United Brethren church, Lewis street, be
tween Main and Johnson streets. Services at
Ha. m md 8 p. m. Pastor, Rev. J. D. Don
Methodist church, Lewis street, between
Main and Frederick streets. Sen Ices at 11
m. and Bp. ru. Pastor, Rev. .1. H. Boyd, D. D
Christ Evangelical Lutheran chuicli. Lew
Is street, between Main and Frederic!, reets
Services at 11 a. m. and 8 p. m. Pastor, ltev
H. F. Shcaly.
Baptist church, cornei ,>iain and Washing
ton streets. Services at 11 a. m. ana 8 p. m
Pastor, Rev. W. J E. Cox.
Second Presbyterian church corner Roder
ick and Lewis streets. Services at 11 a. m
and 8. Pastor, Rev. Win. Cumming.
St. Francis Roman Catholic, North Augustl
street, Mass at 7 and lu.oO a. m. Vespers and
benediction of Most- Blessed Sacrament at
p. m. Pastor, Rev. Fatf. :• McVerry.
Young Men's Christian Assoelation, corner
Main and Water streets. Services at 4 p. m.
Sunda .
Staunton Lodge No. 13, A. F. and A. M., ireeU
every second and last Friday night in each
month, in Masonic Temple, Main otreet. Jas
M, Lickllter.W. M: B. A. £skridge, Secy.
No. 2, meets third Friday in every month, In
Masonic Temple, on Main street. W. W. Mc-
Guffln, High Priest; A. A. Eskridge, Secy.
Staunton Lodge, No. 45,1. O. O. F. meets cv
cry Thia-sday night in Odd Fellows' Hall, ovel
Wayt's drug store, on Main street. John C.
Fretwell Noble Grand: C. A. Craiton, See' .
Staunton Lodtc. No. 756, Kr.ghts of Honor
meets every first i*u3 third Tuesday in each
month, in Pythian Hall, Main street. W. L.
Olivier, Dictator; W. A. Burnett, Recorder.
No. 116,1. O. G. T., meets every Friday night
In their lodge room over Wayt's drug store ,on
Main street. A. S. Woodhouse, Chief Templar
F. D. Kennedy, Secy.
No. 22,1. O. G. T., meets every three months
G. C. Shlpplett, D. C. T.; S. H. Bauserman
District Secretary.
Augusta Council, No. 490, Royal Arcanum
meets every second and fourth Tuesday In the
month, at Pythian Hall, Main street. W. W.
Robertson, Regent; Jos. B. Woodward, Sec
Charity Division, M. A., Sons of Temperance
meets every Monday night at Odd Fellows
all. W. A. Rapp, Worthy Patriarch; John
U. Coffelt, Secy.
E. B. Stuart Divisiou, No. 10, meets second
and fourth Mondays each month at Pythian
Hall. Sir Knight Captain, F. B. Berkley; Sir
Knight Recorder, S. H. Kosenbauni.
Valley Lodge, No. lb, K. of P., meets every
Monday night at Castle Hall, on West Main
street, over Dr. Wayt's drug store. J. T. Long
Chancellor Communder; Albest Shultz, Kaep
er of Records and Seal.
Staunton Commandery, No. 8, Knl, I Tem
plar, meets first Friday night in every
In Masonic Temple, on Main street. W. B.
McChesney, Eminem Commander; A. A. Esk
ridge, Recorder.
ONEIDA TRIBE, NO. 88,1. O. R. M..
Meets in their wigwam, over Wayt's drag
store, every Wednesday at 7th run 30th breath,
setting of the sun. It. ?. Ker, sachem; James
W. Blackburn, chief of records. All visitinir
brothers welcome.
Valley Council No. 736 meets oi. the "rst an o
third Mondays in each month. Commander,
A. S. Woodhouse; secretary, Dr. J. M. Hanger
collector, Isaac C. Morton, Jr.
Meets first Sunday in ever;- month in treir
hall on the church lot. M. T. Bergin, presi
dent; J. J. Kilsralen, first vlee-rresldent; J. J
Murphy, second vice-president; D.J. O'Connell
recording secretary.
Band meets every Monday and Thursday
orchestra, every Wednesday, at 8 p. m., In City
Hall. Professor Thomas Prosho, director
J. A. Armentrout, president, and C. Harry
Haines, secretary.
Meets in the Stonewall Band room. City Hal
building, at 8 o'clock every Wednesday night.
Professor Thos. Prosho, director.
.ire on Thursday night of each week. In Its
•> n room, 119 East Main street. Jas. W. Bod
y. .'.ctmg President; Preston A. Ross, Secre
Meets on the second Tuesday night of eacn
month, in the Council Chamber. Capt. Thos.
D. Ranson, President; Preston A. Boss, Secre

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