Newspapers / The Moore County News … / Dec. 14, 1887, edition 1 / Page 2
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CARTHAGE. K. C. JOHN" "W. 8COTT, JR.. Editor and Pub. . SUBSCRIPTION RATES. One copy, on year . - . - One copy, six months One copy, three months r ' - (1 00 60 35 The above rate t re strictly cash in advance RATES OF ADVERTISING. One square, one insertion 44 I two " " one month ; - fl 00 1 50 2 00. pry- Yearly or standing advertisements will be published at the rate of $60.00 per column, that to as low as one fourth of column: for less space we will invariably charge the above rates. fjf Persons sending advertisement mm write them as they desire them printed ttating the hiace and portion wanted. Entered at the Fostroffice at Carthage, X. as second-class matter. V CENEHAL DIRECTORY CARTHAGE, N. C. MAYOR A. M. D. Williamson. COMMISSIONERS -T. B. Tyson, J. C. Jackson, A.' H. McNeill, II. J. Muse and W. T. Jones.' j ' Meet first Monday in e very month at 7:30 o'clock p. m. v CHIEF OF POLICE , CHURCHES. PRESBYTERIAN Rev. M. M. Mc Queen, Pastor. Services every .first : add third Sundays at 11 o'clock a. m. Sunday-school every Sabbath morning. MKTIIODIST Rev. W. B. Doub Pastor. Service every stcond and fourth Sunday at 11 o'clock a. m., and 7:30 p. m. Sunday-school on Sabbath morning. Prayer meeting every Wednesday night BAPTIST Rev. ; W.. F. Watson, Pastor. Services every second Sunday. Bunday-scnooi every babDatn morning. 1 oung Men s I'raycr meeting every lUX'MMy night. COUNTY OFFICERS. SUPERIOR COURT AND PROBATE JUDOE-D. A. McDonald. REGISTER OF DEEDS J. B. Cole. SOLICITOR Frank McNeill ' SHERIFF-W. M, Black. TBEASURBR-J. A. Worthy. SURVEYOR- Martin Blue COUNTY SUi T. OF PUBLIC IN STRUCTION-rM. McO. ShidJs. ORONER Dr. R M. Ferguson. wardenl: .wJMusc. ; JAILOR W. W. : Ilumsucker. . COUNTY ATT' YtfW. J. Adams. COMMISSIONERS J, D. Mclvcr Chairman; W. J. Blue, C. W.Shaw. SCHOOL BOARD 31. H- Fry, D. P. Shields, N. H. Dunlap. SUPERIOR COURT 1st Monday in December; 3rd Monday in April; 2nd Monday in August, j W. J. ADAMS, attorney! Xt law, CARTHAGE, II. C. Prompt attention to the securing acd collection cf elaimsjj ; and to all legal business. S J. D. McIver, Carthage,' N. J. C. C. Black.'. A ttonioyttantt CounHclors nt Practice in Moore and. adjoining coun ties. Speci.il attention given to the collection of Claim v : BARNES'S HOTEL, j JONESBORO, N. C. MrsL Barnes desires to inform tb public, that she is prepared to furnish the lransunt traveling; public with good board and lodging. With a large and commodious building ! she is also well ptefrared for permanent Boarders stu dents both male and female, and others ind offers at her tabic, the very best that 'ho market affords. ' ; Good looms and polite attention alwavs guaranteed. - . Charles A. McNeill. Attorney aij.Coiseioral Law, CARTHAGE, N. C. ms collected and returns prom male. " ; !h. 1 Ida Lewis Wilson, the lighthouw heroine, still keeps the;old boat in which she has saved thirteen: people, and shab by as it looks she uses it, and says if she - were again to hare' the "opportunity to rescue the drowning she;d take the old lxat rather than the handsome new one presented her by the citizens of Newpoit - -. " IrV- ' Few men hive ever had a more varied experience than O. S. Fowler, the phre- uv'vi,,;"i uit.-u a snore lime since, after a brief illness, atlthe age of seventy-eight. He was perhaps the champion traveler of America, and there were few towns in the , United States or Canada . -where he did not- lecture and examine - heads for a consideration. Professor Fowler was fortunate Enough to take up phrenology as a study! when the public were becoming interested in it. He may be Said to have been the pioneer of along army of lecturers on .the subject whose theories no longer meet with the unques tioning acceptance formerly accorded to them. He was a busy writer, loo, oi books and magazine. articles. . THE UNBRUISED ORA.IH. There's silence in the mill, Tae grest wheel standeth still, And leaves the (rain tmbrtriasd, The mUtef fray and old. Who lieth dead and cold, Hath earned his blessed rest O youth, take thou his place ' And, with uplifted face, -Work thou for human need. Let not life's force in thee TJnxned and wasted be Take thou the true man's placet Once Webster Hinsdale. A KOBLE VICTORY. rBOM Tim OmtlX T t.. 8TTR. The warts break On th shore t)f the North Best A sharp wind from the north sweeps over the surface, dming tU waves high before it. On' their crests rises and sinks the white foam. ' How the water surges forward, as if it would rush far into the land. But again and nga:a it retreats from the white sand, only to return in haste the next morning. On. the shore lies stretched out the vil lage of Husom. Every little house 6tands by itself, often separated from its neigh- be r by a wide space of perhaps fifty feet, which is generally made into a garden, in which a few feeble plants draw a scanty nourishment from the ground. With no less difficulty do the inhabitants of Husom manage to get their living. They are all fishermen, and the sea is their real home, .on which they go out for miles to cast their nets. When the sun ' ihincs on a smooth surface it is an ex hilarating occupation, but when a sud den storm springs up while the boats are far from land and a fog (settles down upon the water like a broad, heavy mantle, then one understands how hard are the renditions, and the perpetual danger at tending the labor by which these men e.rri their bread. he sea runs high and most of the o:;t have pulled in to land. Two men e st II working to save their property the same way. They are both young, g", vigorous men, with sunburned ,c s and toil-hardened hands. At last their boat, too, rests on the ihore firmly secured. '"Lars," said one f the men, straightening up and but funing his short jacket, "this will be a Scree blow, to-night." The other nodded. "It is lucky that none of us are out." Meanwhile they hare started home ward, and stride along together in silence. The only street of the village is quiet. It is dark, here and there a faint light gleaming from a little window. They are passing a small house, and, llmost as if by a secret agreement, they ipproach and glance through the lighted window to the inside. An old man with white hair and beard sits in- a large arm chair; his head has fallen forward on his breast a picture of the life fast sinking to rest. At the table, on the opposite side, sits, in bright contrast, a young girl, sewing a fresh, lovely face, with round, rosy cheeks, and luxuriant, fair hair. Katie Mason is the prettiest girl in the village, and the most industrious, on whom many a young fellow looks with earnest glance. Early and late she is busy, supporting herself and her "aged rather by her own hands. The loiterers at the window have turned and gone on their way. At last Lars said: "Goodnight, Cristoph," and crossed street to his home. He had heard the reply to his greeting, and now waited ind listened, standing by the fence that inclosed his little tract of ground. Cris toph had not gone on, but had turned back for what f Lars felt a miseiviDir. He, too, hastened back. The wind drives full in his face, but he does not heed it. Now he hears Cristoph's steps before him, but cannot se, for it is very dark There stands the little house where Katie Mason lives. Crisfoph 6tands by the win flow. Lars sees him plainly in the lieht of the lamp that falls upon him. He hears a tap on the window, and now Cristoph has his hand on the door, and it jpens be'fore him. "Thou, Cristoph? What brings thee so lateT' asked Katie, holding on to the ioor, which the storm was snaking. "I was passing and saw thee sitting, so I stopped to bid thee 'sleep well.'" 'Thou dear!" she said, putting out her hand. The wind seized the door thus set free, ind flung it wide open against the wall. But Cristoph, using his strength, drew the girl into the hall and closed the ioor. I.ars grew hot under his coarse jacket; hot in spite of the blustering wind. He stepped close to the door ana neara speaking within, but could not distinguish anvthiug. He waited, his heart tilled with the pangs of jealously. How long he stood he knew not ; it teemed an eternity to him. At last the ioor opened and Cristoph stepped out. "Sleep well, dear girl," he whispered. "Good-by, dear Cristoph." The key was turned in the lock. Cristoph went home, the joy of love requitea in his heart. ;' The other, too, turned home ward, but a long time passed before he reached the little house. They hr.d grown up together Lars, Cristoph and Katie. The three had played together continually as children, wd Katie would be carried by no others or drawn on the sled by none but Lars or Cristoph. When they grew larger they went to school together, and were con firmed together in the little church of the neighboring village. No strife had ever :ome between, never had the girl shown whether she preferred one of the lads lor the other. As these developed into rong men, Katie bloomed into still greater beauty, as was apparent to other young men of the vil lage, and Rob Steffel had ventured to intimate as much, in a rough fashion, to the girl. The following day his place in the boat was empty ; he was lick, his father said the truth was; Rob would not fhow his discolored face. From that time the young fellows held themselves aloof from Katie Mason. But between Lars and Criitoph the old inti macy began to gradually diminish. They went with Katie to her first dance. WTho should be her first partner? They dis puted long over it, out of the girl's hearing, and at last, with heated fsces, appealed to her to choose betwVen them. Katie looked at them, and for the first time felt a misgiving that if she choose one the other would be deeply hurt. So she said: It makes no difference to me which I dance with first, but if it is of so much account to you draw cuts." They did so. and Cristoph was the lucky one. While they were settling the matte. Katie looked on with apparent in difference, but her heart beat fast under her bodice, and when it was decided she almost unconsciously smiled with evi dent pleasure. Lars saw it, and from that day jealousy began to take root deeper and deeper in his heart, and there was no lack of occasion to develop it Margrit Hermensen, Katie's best friend, went to the altar to plight her faith. Katie was chosen to carry the wreath. accompanied by Cristoph. When Lars heard cf it he opposed it rehemently. Both young men giew violent and only Katie's pretence of mind in declar- ins she did not wish te eo to the wed ding prevented perhaps the very worst outbreak of Lars s passionate storm of anger. After that the two avoided each other as much as possible, but sought to be with Katie. Each knew that the oth er loved the girl, and both felt secretly conscious to whom Katie's heart inclined. Cristoph, the calmer and more self pos sessed, felt a silent, blissful happiness taking possession of bis heart when the girl looked at him with her blue eyes so sweetly and kindly. Lars, morevehem ment, believed at times that Katie loved him, her manner was so cordial. But, again, when he saw her with Cristoph, a voice within him told him that he was not the favored one, and he suffered b't ter torment. So it had gone on till the evening when the young fishermen re turned together from the shoTe. Cristoph's heart beat fast at the quiet, peaceful scene in old Mason's cottage, and it drew him back with irresistible power to leave a greeting for the lovd one. But after he had entered the hall, in his effort to close the door, so violently flung open by the storm, he suddenly be came conscious of Katie in his arms. And while it raged and stormed without he kissed her, and in wild happiness, he whispered: "Katie, do you love me?' She aid not answer, but her lips prensed his. The .next morning Lars stood on the shore mending his boat, when Rob SteHel came by. "You are early, though you came home late. Were you with your sweetheart? ' Lars looked at him, red with anger. He struck the wood with his axe, and the chips flew far.around. "Hobo!" continued the other, "yoo did not have good luck, it seems." "Keep still !" cried Lars. "What is it to you whether I have good luck or not?" Rob Steffel stepped nearer. " "You are unjust to me," he said. "A big fellow like jou should not take it so meekly. Cristoph has plainly taken the fish away rrm vAti " 1 Wl-U JVH Lars made no answer, but his hand clasped the axe convulsively. "You and I have no love for Cristoph." continued Rob; "let us join together against him," and he held out his hand. 'l want nothing to do with you," re plied Lars, and turned away, resuming his work. Rob Steffel laughed scornfully, and went away, but the sting that his words contained remained in Lars's breast. When the other was out of sight he flung down his axe, and went back to the village. Slowly, with downcast head, he walked. Before the house of old Mason he paused, then with a sudden resolution he entered. But, as if bound, he stood in the doorway in the room stood Katie tenderly embraced by Cristoph. A painful silence prevailed for a moment, then Cristoph stepped to ward Lars, put out his hand, and said : "Katie is my betrothed since last even ing. I intended to come directly to you and tell you." He did not answer, only a bitter smile quivered on his lips. It was excessively painful to the girl. She felt what a blow she had civen him. though blame less nerselt. She longed to say some thing to hinv but could not find the right word. So she only looked at him and, without speaking, held out her hand to him, but he turned away and left the house. Toward noon the shore was alive with men. The sea gleamed in the sunshine again, the waves played gently, and a soft wind was blowing. The day was favorable for a large haul. All the fisher men of the"viliage were gathered to gether, the nets and oars were put into the boats, the sails spread wide, and the Llittle fleet sailed far out into the broad, beautiful sea. Katie stood on the shore tending greetings . to her sweetheart as long as his boat was in sight. Then she went home, smiling happily to herself. She had much to do. After she had seen to her Old father, who sat quietly in his chair and smoked a short pipe, she went about her work. How it flew under her hands to-day, though fre quently she stoppedi gazing down, lost in sweet dreams. Then she worked so much the faster again. So hour after hour flew by unheeded. At last the day's task was ended, and Katie went to the door. But the weather had changed, the sun had disappeared behind thick clouds, and the sky hung in gray folds over the sea. The fishermen also had finished their work. Their rich booty lay in the boats, promising a tine reward for their hard labor. But in the east it was black and threatening. They must reach home before the storm came on. The little sails spread out, the ships flew over the water, causing the foam to break over the deep dipping sides. Then came the first blow strong against the sails; t'.e loaded boats threatened to upset. The men were forced to take in sails, and trust wholly to the oars. It grew dark, and the sea lifted itself restlessly into huge, far rolling waves. Then the itorm broke loose with wild force; it howled and lashed the sea till it reared in short, foam-capped waves. The men rowed with all their might; the shore could not be far awav, though it was not visible in the darkness. Ahead of all the others shot Cristoph's boat; close beh'nd him was Lars's. It seemed as if the two were running a race for the safety of the shore. A wave seized Cristoph's boat, lifted it high, and flung it with its broad side against the end of Lars's ves lel. Lars saw it sinking before him. A. thought shot through his heart, frightful and vivid: "Let the waves bury Cristoph, and Kate is yours. " But the thought was gone in a moment; in the next he had leaned far out, grasped the constant friend out of his youth, now struggling with death. But he lost his own balance, sitting upon the ex treme edge. He flung out his hand to catch hold of something, but found nothing, and plunged headlong. A huge wave seized the boat, threw it far from the place, and in the. roaring of the waves a last, despairing c ry wa lost. At last the fisherman had painfully reached the shore. Women and old men full of anguish stood waiting the return ing ones. " Katie," cried a voice from the dark ness, and the girl felt herself embraced by two arms. "Christoph! thank heaven that you are here!" She led him to her house. lie was si lent all the way. only holding her fat. She. too, hardly spoke. When they reached the houe she noticed for the first time that his clothes were saturated, ind asked the reason. Then his mouth quivered with repressed pain, while he answered. "Katie, the storm destroyed my boat. Lars snatched me from the wave, but he himself fell into the s a and " "What?" she aked breathlcvslv. "I could not save him," he said almost inaudibly. After a few days the sea washed the body of Lars ashore. It was the only sacrifice it had demanded that day. I ars had no parents living, but even" parent could not hvc shed more burning tents than Kate and Christoph w hen he wa buri?d in the little churthrard. Tht thought of him. the consciousness that his sacrifice had secured their happiness neveT left them. Long after Katie went to the altar with Christoph, and when they came from the church their first steps were directed to the grave of Lars. Albany Atqus, Saratoga Chips. ' "Do Saratoga chips come from Sara togar inquired a Mail and Express re porter of a New York grocer. "Not much,'' said the grocer. "They are made in this city, and many are shipped to Saratoga." But if you want to know all about them just go up to the bakery and see how they are made." At the bakery it was learned that the concern has a monopoly of the business in this city, and that there are only three makers of Saratoga chips in the country. Chips are an American institution, and are not known aboad save for some small lots that have been exported. The pro cess of manufacturing is in part a secret. The potatoes are peeled and sliced by machinery. They are washed and dried between muslin clothes. If they were now fried the amount of starch that they contain would make them brown, and the secret of the business is to remove all of the starch, so that the chips will be perfectly white. When this is done they are put into the hot grease, and come out curled and crisp and with the delicious flavor that has made them . famous the world over. Said the manager: We use scventv-five barrels of pota toes a week, keep seven bakers at work, and have three wagons out delivering. Hotels take them by the barrel, restaurants take them in twenty-five pound boxes, and for grocers to serve to private families we put them up in one pound cartons. The dining cars on nearly all the railroads use them, and we have sent some to England. Cities as far away as Jacksonville, Florida, and San Francisco send to us for Saratoga chips. They will keep for three months. A few minutes in a hot oven makes them as crisp as though they were just fried." Where Dancing Is a Passion. I presume those who have not traveled in Spain hardly realize how thoroughly that country is given to the worship oi St. Vitus. Says a recent writer: "The dance demon seizes on Spaniards at all times and under all circumstances in the streets, on the public squares, under the porches of the stately mansions. A peripatetic musician comes along strum ming his guitar, and in an instant the maid servants throw aside their brooms, the work Avomen set down the pitchers they are carrying to the fountain, the muleteers leave their mules, the inn keeper forgets your dinner, and all spring forward, arms akimbo and eyes spark ling. Their feet just touch the ground, they balance in unison with the music and dance with their souls as well as with their bodies. Let a tourist pay a visit to Toledo and put up at the ancient hostelry of Dc Lino, and let a guitar player station himself under the great sombre archway that Don Quixote him self would not have passed without a forebjoding of evil. He will sec with his own eyes how the natural order of things will, be disarranged and everything thrown into confusion. A fandango will begin in the court, the kitchen and the street, and amid such a hubbub that he will think that he has taken leave of his senses. One day at St. Sebastian the regiment passed by with a band at its head. A fandango was played. Even the children who had been industriously engaged in making dirt pies pricked up their ears, caught each other by the wists, and tried to go through the steps. Their nurses joined in, snapping their fingers. The passers-by came to the as sistance of the i nurses. The soldiers themselves couldn't stand the tempta tion, but fell out of the ranks and min gled in the dance. Washington's Wonderful Monument. I have been living now for some months at a distance of a mile away, in full view of "the Washington monument, looking directly upon its eastern face, says a cor respondent of thejKansas City Journal. It never seemed twice alike. It has its moods and changes of color, like the tops of the Swiss Alps. This morning the base or the 800-foot structure was lost in a deep blue mist, which filled the valley for a depth of a couple hundred feet. Then came a section of, perhaps, 100 feet more in which the shaft was purple and pink, the whole crowned with a white blazing column, hundreds of feet high, flashing back the sunlight, set against a deep blue western sky ! At another time you will see the cold, gray base of the monument rising above the deep green foliage which surrounds it, with the dark blue highlands of Arling ton beyond, and overtopping all these the graceful shaft pierces the heavens, towering far above the horizon line, until its top is lost in a sea of fleecy cloud9. It is a realized vision of Jacob's ladder, a real visible stone causeway leading from heaven to earth. Do you know of any other monument like this? A few evenings ago there was a grand thunder shower in the east. The west was black with darkness, and even the white monu ment whs blotted out of sight. But at every flash of the lightning the whole eastern face of the monument gleamed and flashed like a polished sword, coming out of the darkness with a suddenness and vividness that was startling. It seemed to be a ghastly monument, a col umn of electricity, which leaped from the earth to the sky. I am sure no other monument in this world can exhibit such a phase as that. Kffeet of a Solar Eclipse Upon Animals. "Although the scientific results of the observation of the solar eelinse in this neighborhood are insignificant," savs the uerun correspondent of the Londo Jim, "some interesting reports are given of the effects upon the lower ani mals of the untimely obscuration of the sun. Foresters state that the birds, which had already begun to sing bef ore the eclipse took nlace. became of a sud den quite silent, and showed signs of I uni uru uarkness set in. iierus Hlflr.ni wKa -1 1 A. w oi aeer ran ahout m alarm, as did the small .four-footed game. In Berlin a scientific man arranged for observations to be made by bird-dcalere of the con duct of their eathered stock, and the results arc found to deviate considerably. In some cases the birds showed sudden sleepiness, even though they had sung before the eclipse took place. In other cases great uneasiness and fright were observed. It is noticeable that parrots showed far more susceptibility thin ca narie, becoming totally silent during the eclipse, aud only returning very slowly to their usual state." L'nfoanded Fears. Friend (to young author) " How ii your new book gnins, Charley ? " Young Author idubiouslv)" It's go ing pretty fast, j I've already given awav five hundred copie." Friend " Five hundred copies! Whv, I congratulate yon. old boy. I was afraid you wouldn't bej able to give awav mort than half thst number." Jfm York 5m. BRANDING YOUNG CALVES. LIVELY SCENES in AH 6W506N CATTLE COKKAI. Difficulties Encountered by Cow boys in Corral In nd Branding the Frisky Calree The past two months, says a letter from Harney Lakes, Ore., to the San Francisco Post, have not been happy onea for the calves that have been browsing around the borders of this lake, for a stout campaign has been directed against them, and several. hundreds of vouig an imals have been marked,cut ana branded during the past few days. It would seem that the three operations entailed i'ast amount of pain upon them, but Owing to the toughness of the brutes' hides, the bluntness of their nerves acd their gen eral easy nature, steer or a heifer docs not seem to experience more than a mo mentary inconvenience from the necessa ry mutilation. " This camrjaisrn calls for an extraordi nary degree of physical exertion on the 1 part of the cowboy, lie responds xaiue task with the alacrity of his ardent na ture. The principal part of this work lies in the corrals, some fire miles from the house. - On arriving" upon the stamping ground it is the plan to split into parties and thoroughly scour different sections of the country for cows and their calves. This is no easy matter, as the cattle seem to band together and range for a few miles in small societies, and then again a few miles distant another herd may be found. This entails upon both horse and rider a great deal of exertion, for often the cattle are hard to drive, charg ing about in all directions and keeping the horse in a state of fretful excitement; When, however, all the cattle have been gathered in the allotted section they are driven to a convenient locality and there held until the band arrives from the other section. Then commences a babel, the like of which can be heard onlj when near a vast herd of cows. The lowing and the bellowing that a couple of hundred cows can make has no equal in the world. It is a regular swelling noise, a regular wave of diabolical, never-, ceasing sound in all notes and keys, from the squeaK ot tne sucKing pig io mc angry roar of an enraged lion. When the cows have all been bunched together, then comes the somewhat diffi cult task of separating the already branded calves and their mothers. It is a duty which requires aS mueh discretion from the horse as from the man, as the horse that knows bis business will soon, recognize the cow and the calf that are wanted, and will drive them out irom the herd with, perhaps, but little guiding from its rider. The cows then are hud dled together in a narrow plain which borders upon the lake, so as to prevent a break on one side. 1 hen two or three men do the cutting out, while the test are stationed on the skirts of the field to drive back any animal which might escape. Very often a cow does make a break, and then it is the duty of the man nearest her to head her back into the herd. The cow and her calf are as swift as deer, and as sute-footed as mules, and as the ground-around the lakes is literally besprinkled with badger holes, running is accompanied with a good deal of danger By night time the cattle have generally been collected, when camp is made and a rest is taken for the hard work to follow on the morrow. Before five o'clock the men who are to separate the cows from the calves are in the corrals, and soon finish that work. Then comes the real trouble. The fire for heating the branding irons is soonalight, the man who has to drag the calves from out the inner corral mounts his horse and the play begins. The mounted man holds the end of a lorg riata,. while the noose is held by a man on foot, who ea ters the calf-crowded corral and lassos the calf. The noose is slipped over the body, and is made taut at the hind foot. But before it can get to the feet there is gen erally trouble. Roundabout the corral bucks the calf, tumbling and sprawling, kicking and bellowing, and making an indescribable confusion. However, this does not last long. The rope is 6oon down by his feet, the word "pull" is given, and the calf is hauled to tne gate, where a man adroitly slips a noose over his head and forefeet. Thus bound head and feet the calf is helpless. Then a man 6iips out a pocket knife,- slashes its ears into whatever fashion prevails on the ranch, while another applies the brand ing: iron. Thus in about a minute from the time the calf is caught he is cut, marked and branded. The calf does not seem to feel the mutilation in the least. He doesn't seem to wince at the lopping of his ears, though sometimes a shiver does pass through its frame when the hot iron scars an indellible mark upon its flank. But when over the calf hops gaily up and trots up to his companions as if perfectly unhurt. This is but a mild statement of the case. The gentle reader need not imag ine that all that the cowboy has to do is to enter a corral and slip a rope over a a six-weeks'-old calf and have a horse haul the animal out It is "by no means so easy. The calf never yields. He wil! kick, squirm, buck, charge, rush and butt at everything. Though well nigh throttled to death, he will tug at the rope which encircles his neck until ths rope is ready to snap with the tension. Then the alert cowboy will make a rush at the calf, and catching him on the side will bring bina, with a thump, on the ground, while the rest throw themselves on him, with a view to brand. The ages of these calves that were branded ran from three days old to one month there were, of course, some calves branded which were older, but the majority of the animals were of that age. This will enable one to form some idea of the extraordinary itrength and activity of the calf. A " Fortune" That "Come Trae Pome years ago Christine Nilsson, whose recent marriage, you remember, aad the lines of her hand examined bv a palmist, who told. her she would have trouble Tfrom two cause, fire and man iacs. This prediction was verified, for during the Chicago fire she lost f 20.000, nd when Boston was burned she lost 1200,000. When at New York a crazy man followed her for a week, believing that the words addressed bv Marguerite to Faust were intended for'himself. In Chicago a poor student decided to marry her. and wrote passionate letters to which he received no answer. On he came in a superb s:eii?h. drawn K. four horses, to take his affianced bride to u the first to discover indications of de the church. The manager quieted him 3lu)e in. condition or health, and the "j MJluis re ie; Jiadame Nils- on has gone there to wait for you.n The third insane person was her husband M. Rouzeaud. who died in n ' Musical Record. ' - A Natural Inference. She: '-Does your ranot talk. Marks r 3Ir. 31 r. Maiks (not intellrciuaH mucu, except what Tve taught him " She: "Only whutlea and sweirs a little, I suppose. "Life. FARM AM) GARDEN. The Care of Hajr. ! ' -Barns 6r -b,frack Jrt f cif for the preservation ot hly thafl ttj cular stacks, eren th4u s"..1 Us welfbuilt. -nnUm,4n soluble in wa cr- tFYv .VZnt tcVR is ffif place for storing of J for use U in a gcoL well-sheltej red m ow. where it should be tramped as put in aad packed closely. :pusuw,uij mow an old-fashioned: bafrtc ,nth well-thatched foot, arfafiged 0 as W rfide up and dowfi the four corner potts, ?: it not been well cured in the field, ventilation should be permitted Gazette. in the mow. wmmww Cows and .Green Apples. Whether apples will injure milch coin depends greatly upon how they are fed, and something aUo on the character of the" fruit. A cow usually has no more A c r-mtrT ot t n tYic kind of apples ihef Asv.',ri oof rtr f.tfv nmnunt than a small OUVUU vv r , school-boy. When cows break into an orchard or a s :dden wind stoim brings down a great number of apples prema turely, so that cows can get them, then serious injury is sure io result. The cow has the crimps as evidently as a boy cou'd have them. Often the first sign the owner has is a sudden falling off of the milk yield, and though they may be partially restored, the injury to the ione of the stomach is such that the yield will not again be as great during that season as it whs before. The worst effects are from unripe fruit: It takes only a few sour green apples to grange the stomach. The acid, bitter juices, with which they are filled are more or less poisonous, and even one or two will do more harm than good. When apples are fully ripe a rery few daily may be given with advantage to milch co-s, thougli s ur apples should be avoided, as even io small quantities they are of little value for milk produc tion. If given at all they should be fed in measured quantities, and on no. account should cows be turned in to help themselves; they will at a great many in a short time, and if hurried may choke in trying to cat too rapidly. Cultivator. The Parsnip. When well grown, the parsnip is con sidered to be one of our most valuable and desirable garden vegetables, and it is to be regrette.d that so little care and attention has been bestowed upon it by A our amateur eulthators, for it well de serves a place in all gardens, no matter how small. , It prefers a deep, moderately enriched sandy loanij one that has been well worked for a previous crop, - although any other will answer if thoroughly and deeply plowed as early in the season ai possible. It is best to give a liberal dressing of decayed manure, and this should be well and deeply incorporated with the soil by means of the plow. A good harrowing should then be given, so as to level it off nicely, when it should be marked off into drills about two feet apart and an inch and a half in depth. In these drills the seed should be sown rather thinly, and covered to the depth of about half an inch. .The seed should be sown early in the spring, just as soon as the ground can be properly prepared. As soon as the young plants are strong enough to handle they should be thinned out, so that they stand five or six -inches apart, then a thorough hoeing should be given. After this all the attention they will require is to keep them well cultivated and free from weeds, and at each hoeing let a lit tle fresh earth be drawn up around the pkints. j As they are best alter being touched by frost, it :s customary to permit at least half of the crop to remain in the ground until toward spring, when it can be dug and used. The portion of the crop in tended for winter use is dug in Novem ber, the later the better, and stored in sand in a cool cellar. The long smooth, or hollow crown, is the variety most generally grown, but the stude it is, in my opinion, a much better variety ; but one will not go astray in selecting either of them. An ounce of seed will sow one hundred and fifty feet of drill.--Tick's Mvg-ne. Tuberculosis in Cattle. Tuberculosis in cattle is the same dis ease as consumption in men. Neither, fays a writer in the New England Farmer is understood to le curable, though quack doctors may sometimes offer remedies to cure consumption. It is not produced bj- lung worms. The word tuberculosis is derived from a latin word meaning sxall tuber. Tubercles are of various size, from that of a millet seed to that of large grapes, and sometimes an aggregation of tubercles form a mass weighing a pound or more. They are all too large to be found in milk or but ter. Chemical analysis is unnecessary for determining the presence of the dis ease; it is usually quite apparent to the naked e,.e, but doubted cases may need the microscope to determine their true nature. Animals sometimes fatten well when affected by this disease in its earlier stages, but emaciation is one of the common svmrjtom- Tiitiprr-nirtBi is a disease that is not confined to the lungs, though it more commonly affects those organs. It may locate itself in al most any organ or part of the body. It undoubtedly is a frequent cause of abor tion ana oi barrenness when the generative organs Ire the seat of the dis ease.. Cows that appear to be almost constantly in heat arc often affected with disease. It Is transmissible from parent to offspring by heredity, and from either male or female parent, but infected parents may produce offspring that will not have the disease, though a predispo sition to the disease is greatly increased by having diseased parents. The disease is far more common in adults than in the young of animals. It prevails more in warm than in cold countries, and in hot than in cold stables, which accounts in part for its greater prevalence in herds of fancy cattle kept in tight, warm barns. Jt is far more common in districts where the stock is chiefly purchased than whwe it is raised. The buver is mnr er t at the mercy of the seller, for the latter temptation to "unload" upon another is a weakness not wholly confined to horse jocktes or dealers in stocks. The disease is most dangerous to man kind when badly diseased meat or milk is eaten without thoroughly cooking. The disease is most contagcous when the wJ? 4re bre-akiDS down; tha? is, being thrown off from the body in the - There is no doubt whatever that tuber- tT IS-kCt 10 A. At i v4W w is increasing as our tat- wo ic ueiier Housed and protected. One's chances of belngTrilled by drit! milk or eating beef from tubercular $ mala are nrobablv small K. probably small, but to take that small chance tvb' - x w ui nn wants should be greater protection to the lv He, and there will be when the are tufficiently informed in the matuV Evef y person who buys milk or beef C a tight to know that the animal, V? dtiCiag said food are in good health VnS not dangerous to the community, fy, respondent who have facts to conuni" nicate bearing on this important qUe tion cannot be ?oo prompt in rnakia such facts public property through medium of the newspaper. We shall b, glad to give all a hearing on' the subj Farm and Garden Notea. As. breeder of disease few thing! eel neglected farm-house cellar. Always Water your horses before fej. ing them grain, and not soon after. Air-slaked lime is recommended fo, the Cabbage, onion and' turnip majygoU. Coal ashes possess little or no manurUj talue, but serve to lighten up a stiff ao The Swiss dairyman salts hU every morning before they are watered. Raising fruit, such ns grajKs, nrctar. incs, etc., in pots an 1 urn cr glss j practiced by the Bullish. Several case." are reported of apple pomace having been preserved is the silo with very rat isfactory -results. An expression of opinion at a recent meeting of farmers developed the fact that most cf hm ii.v'incd to cut hsy when in full Ivo nn. Dr. "Vard r suy lint tlr rawberrt affords one of the In st illustrations of the benefits of shortening-in fruit hew. ing plants to increase f.-uit fulness. It is better to have a crop of some kind in the ground at all tini"-'. provided such crops be not perrr.it led to nntiiiv, hut to be turned under a; inimnv. Fallowing is not 'always lr.s. Prof. Gocss:i.an, of New Yo;k, h profited by cultivat'ng the Boutin in cow . Cea, producing ai large amount of foraj ut not seeds. As a green .monureamj as a fodder the cow pea is invaluable Corn, clover and other rrops should allowed to pass the succu-lcr.t sta-e and come nearly to maturity before putting them in the silo. Thus they contain the most nutriment and the smallest percent, of water. Every horse, n matter of what breed or for what purpose, is the better for en joying at least a few weeks of pasture in summer. Horses should not be subjected to sudden changes from stable to hot sun, and rice verm. There arcseve-al reasons for butter be coming strong, says Hoarl' Ilrijmm. Among them u:e. I sipg pails an I pans thataic not thoroughly clemml from stale milk ; setting the s'ale milk in badly ventilated eei'H's or milk houses ; keep ing the milk too loiv until it gets very sour; keeping the cream too long; churn ing too slowly, or in an unclean churn; not taking all the buttermilk out of the butter; keeping the butter in a warm, badly aired or mouMly place; tl;ee ill cause the butter to become strong, which is the effect of decomposition in v. The food or water of the cow will also cause the trouble. Those who have plowed" corn under for green manuring have been surprised that no benefit from it was observed in after tillage. Even after the lapse of two, four and six months the corn wai still lying green in the but torn of th? furrow, and good as ensilage. Clover, however, thus turned under will rot emit a powerful odor in a week after being coverctl, in warm weather. Green manuring with clover :eems,to benefit the land, while that with corn usually does not. Gyten manuring with rye ha been found of great -beudit fb the po tato crop, if plowed undr in thenpring. The rye for this purpose should be sowed in the autumn. After heading out and growing to a height of three or four feet, it can be plowed under for cora and potatoes. "Old Kongh and Ready." President Taylor was probably th only i'resiaent to wnom the prcspkiK? was an uncoveted and unsought fr boon. Mrs. Taylor was so adverse to public life that it was said tint she prayedevery night during his candidacy for bis; defeat, and when told of his elec tion, aid: "Why could they not let m alone? "We arc so happy here. Why do they want to drag us .to Washington!"' Who that ever saw General Taylor at s levee could forget him? He "grar'd every new comer cordially by the hand, and saluted all, high and low, old maid, brides, young girls, all, with the words: "Glad to t,ee you! Glad to see you: Hope thf childrea How s your family? are all well." He hardly ever opencl his mouth without making a mit-uk and people laughed heartily.. Stiil thr. loven him, trusted 1m judgment, nnd knew his heart and hand were tnj a steel ; and when he died the whole nation was a, mourner at his grave. Whm Major Donclson returned from Knrojw he introduced him at a dinner party as, "My friend Donelson, just from Herlin. Austria. " During his candidacy o!ond Wtj a State elector, after discus-log several public topics, asked him what were his views on the tariff. "The what. Jack?" said General Taylor, who stut tered dreadfully. "The tariff, General, aid Colonel W. "Why ! what's that' "It's sine qua non," said Colonel W., who was one of the greatest wags that over lived, "that the people are much excifd about now." "A tine qua non," sad General Taylor, 6lowlv ; "I believe. Uck. I saw one in Mexico, but I forget what it looks like, and I II be blamed if I have sny views on the tariff." 2fc-?n ISn-foet. Pacific Coast Indians and Salmon. A letter to the New York Pon' 'y During our day at Fort Wrangel, Wn-h-ington Territory, while the sun was -Inning, a family of'Thlinket Indians a hort distance back in the country were hud dled together in their hut; hut as soon j it commenced to rain one and ' emerged, sat around on logs acd chattel seeming to enjoy being rained on ! Tt natives take little account of lime; they paddle along the coast for thousands of miles on the most trivial of errand, the question as to where they stay or sleep apparently being of small consequence- The tish supply here is seemingly'?" exhaustible. Salmon appear in s1'1 schools six and eight feet deep. Tk Strickeen River back of Fort Wrang' and the outlets of some of the inland wa ters to the ailt water are at certain sea sons actually choked with squirmiDg s1" mon, causing them" in their eagerness to pass through to crowd each other abo the surface of the water, thus creatio? for the time a solid bank of fish. Sml'r fish are also to be found in surprising quantities. Herring swarm in the chaa pels. The candle fish, a small fish abotj six inches long, which is delicious eat ing, can be caught by the million. pailful can be had from a native for to merest irtuc. uusi u 1 abound until the' lover of fishin tires of the sporL
The Moore County News (Carthage, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Dec. 14, 1887, edition 1
2
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