THE CHARLOTTE MESSENGER.
VOL. 111. NO. 40
THE
Charlotte Messenger
KS PUBLISHED
livery Salnrday,
AT
CHARLOTTE, N. C.
In the Interests of the Colored People
of the Country.
Able and wall-known writers will eonttib
un» to its columns from different parts of t.b*»
country, and it. will contain the latest Gen
cral News of the flay.
Tiik Mivrskxof.ii is n flrst-elnss newspaper
and will not allow personal abuse in its col
mnns. It is not sectarian or partisan, hut
independent—dealing fairly by ».|l. I» ve-
MTvc? the right td criticise Vnc si orfeominpi
of nil public officials the
worthy, and i econimc;iding fur elect ion such
men as in its opinion are stiit*d to serve
• the interests of the; peophv
It is intended *«e> supply the long foil- need
of a newspaper to *dv<w : nt«* the rights and
defend the inter of the Negro American,
especially in Piedmont section of the
Carolina:*.
SUBSCRIPTIONS;
< t 'imi/s in Advance.)
*i year - - $| .w
h months - - | 00
fl months - - - 7a
4 months - -
f. months - 40
Address,
W.C. SMITH, Charlotte NC,
The plan of throwing a bridge overthr
Strait;; of Messina, that separate Sicily
from Italy, will, when consummated, hr
one of the most striking feats of modern
engineering. The place selected is where
the channel is two and one-half mile?
wide and three hundred and sixty-one
feet deep, and two piers will support a
viaduct of steel rails to a height of three
hundred and twenty-eight feet above the
water.
Professor Baird says fishes can live tc
he 150 years old. We don't doubt, thi?
in th? h ast. They are always the largest
*. hes Go. That is the kind that alwayr
breads away from the hook at the ven
last moment, and never is seen again.
A Chicago paper states that Mrs. Hen
Irieks, widow of the late Vice President,
continues to bo annoyed and distressed
by the receipt, of begging letters, the
writers resorting to every conceivable ex
-U36 to induce a charitable contribution.
She is also beseiged with requests for
jutographs and photographs of the dis
tinguished dead, and with reference to
v hc former she says that she has cut the
autographs from letter and papers at her
command w hich can be spared, and she
ran send no more. There are also de
mands upon her for souvenirs of Mr.
Hendricks. Quite recently, among the
*>ddest demands for charity which have
been received was one from a woman pro
cessing to be the mothsr of triplets, who
wanted money with which to buy a cow.
The woman said in the letter that Pres
dent Cleveland had contributed toward
‘his object, but he failed to send enough
money.
Colonel W. L. Utley, who recently died
at Racine, Wisconsin., was “the ownerof
the last slave on American soil,” says a
correspondent of the Milwaukee Sentinel.
When he was'in Tennessee with his regi
ment, o colored boy escaped from his
master and sought refuge in the Colonel’s
tent. The owner came into camp the
next day and demanded the surrender of
his property, but Colonel Utley refused to
iriye up the boy. Several years afterward
the slave owner brought suit in the United
States Court in the Milwaukee District
for damage , and secured a verdict of
11.000, which Colonel Utley paid!
‘ This,"’ says the correspondent, “was the
•ast judgment of the kind. Colonel
Utley r.pulicd to Congress for relief, and
mere than ten years after the emanc ipa
’inn proclamation he w as indemnified by
•he government for the money he gave
?er the boy's freedom.'’
The teportsof the Challenger exploring
expedition form perhaps the most elabor
ate «nd expensive single work ever pub
ic hed by any government, the net cost to
Great Britain having been thus far about
$200,00(1, an additional SOO,OOO having
been rerovered from sales. No less that
twenty-seven large quarto hav •
been issued, illustrated by about *2OO full
page lithographic plates, some eighty
charts and diagrams, atm many hundred
photograph* an I wood cats. At least,
seven volumes more will ltc necessary, hut
if ia expected that the whole work will
he completed by March, 1888. The fa
mous e\|M-dition which has thrown so
much light on the of the deep
sea, left England, it will he remembered.
Dee# mhrr 21. 1872. and returned May 20.
1870, nftejpi voyage of more than 80, Os HI
miles. The party, under Dr. Wyville
Thompson, made dredging* and sound
ing* in all the Ocean*, and secured im
portant collection* representing a host of
new diMa»vcrie* concerning submarine
life and conditions.
HOME.
Ob! what, Is homo? that sweat companionship
Os life the better pnrt;
The happy smile of welcome on the lip
Upbringing from the heart.
ft fs the eagpr clasp of kindly hands,
The long remembered tone,
The ready sympathy which understands
AH feeling by its own.
The rosy check of little children pressed
To ours in loving glee;
The presence of our dearest and mir lx A,
No matter where we be.
And. failing this, a prihee may homeless live,
Though palace walls arc nigh;
And, having it, a desert, shore may give
The joy wealth cannot buy.
Far reaching as the earth’s remotest span,
Widespread as ocean foam,
One thought, is sacred in the breast of man
It is the thought of home.
T hat little word his human fate shall bind
With destinies above,
For there tho home of his immortal mind
Is in God’s wider love.
THE OLD SETTLER.
HE ENl,tottTfcXß bltThr; PELfett.
“Grandpop,” said little Pcteg, As he
fingered a stiff-springcd patent clothes
pin. and east a glartcC at the old cat that
lay snoozing in the splint-bottom roek
ingHiair. “Grrtndpop.” said he, “what
are the wild waves saying?”
Ibe Old Settler looked up from the
pages of the local paper, in which he was
reading an account of a hog-guessing
match that had come off over at the Cor
ners. He scowled over his spectacles at
Peleg, who fitted the clothespin carefully
on his nose and closed his mouth to sec
how long he could hold his breath.
“I hain’t beerd no wild waves a yellin’
anything very loud lately, ez I knows
on.’said the Old Settler.' “W’ich wild
waves is it th’t M’riar! Whack that
young’un on the hack or he’ll bust ev’ry
gizzard he’s got!’’
Peleg had hung on to his breath until
bis eyes began to bulge out. and his face
was ns red as his grandfather’s nose. He
succumbed to the. inevitable before his
grandmother could give him the whack.
He opened his mouth and started his
lungs to working again, but left the
clothespin on his nose. His grandfather
glared at him for a moment, and then
eaid:
“W irh wild waves is it th't yer speakin’
of?*’
“ Theb that rips and roars arou’d Co
ney s find,” replied Peleg, his utterance
stopped by the pressure of the clothespin
on his nose.
The Old Settler reached for his cane.
“Peleg!” exclaimed his grandmother,
“take (hai clothespin offen j r our nose!
\c gimme a cold in the head to hear ye!
What was ye moanin’ ter eav?”
Peleg removed the clothespin and re
peated his remark. ‘ ‘Them that rips and
roars around Coney’s Island; that’s what
I said. What are they saying, grand
pop?”
“Coney’s Island!” exclaimed the Old
Settler. “W’at in Sam Hill do you know'
bout Coney’s Island, or ‘bout any wild
waves ez mowt or ez mowtn’t be arippin’
an’ a roarin’ ?”
‘ The new school ma’am from town
boards to Bill Simmons’s,” replied Peleg,
‘ and t’other night she was telling us
about Coney’s Island. She’s been there
lots, and she told us that she could eet
on the bank down there and listen to
what the wild waves was saying all day
long. I asked her what they was saying,
and rhe said: ‘Oh! much, little boy!’
she didn’t say how much or what it was,
and I asked Bill Simmons if he knowed,
and he said he did but. wasn’t giving it
a wax’. ‘Go ask yer grandpop,’ Bill said.
If he can’t tell you,’ rays Bill, ‘the.
world’s coming to an end.’ " That’s how
I come to ask you, grandpop. Can’t you
tell me?”
“Yes, b’gor-h, I kin!” exclaimed the
Old Settler, shaking his fist in the direc
tion of the Simmons homestead. “I kin
tell ye! Them wild waves is a sayin’, an’
they’re yoopin' it out go’s it kin be heerd
from Coney's Island to sundown, th't the
be?;’ thing you kin do is so keep shot o’
that Bill Simmons, or tliaz a shingle out
thar in the yard that'll make the proper
est kind of a paddle, an' if that paddle is
made an’ used you'll hes to stan’ up fer
mowj’n a week w’en yc cat yer slap-jacks
an”)asscs! That's w’at them wilo waves
is savin’, Peleg, an’ it's yer poor ol’gran’-
pop this tell in' yc so, b’gosht’lmightv,
an’ ye won't listen!”
Peleg sat down by the. side of the
splint bottom rooking chair. He said
nothing. »,ut thought to himself, as he
toyed with the clothespin, that if the
wild waves had said all that to the
sehoolma'm, she must have been more
than pleased at their remarks about the
paddle and the slap-jacks. The Old Set
tler picked up his jmper again. Peleg's
grandmother took her knitting and went
off to the “settin’ ” room, and his grand
father, after finishing the account of the
hog guessing which stated that Pete
Hellriggle had won the hog—and remark
ing that if Pete didn’t trade the hog off
for a bar'l o’ eider the w innin’ o’ it’d be
a lucky thing fer hi* fam’ly, ez they’d
hen browsin’ on sassy fra x all winter, he
turned to Peleg and said :
“Yes. my son, that’s w’at them wild
waveri is sayin’. an' ez yer gran‘mammy
lutin’! in bearin’ to git worried at. our
talkin’, I'll tell ye w’at. some wild waves
done to me w unst. Them waves didn't
sav nothin', hut they jist got up an’done.
This happened w’en I were a boy,consid’-
ahh* many year ago. Twere on the
ninth day of April, 1822, in the after
noon. ] were jist cornin’ seven year old.
Ther’ had lien a big rain fer two or three
days, an’ I know'll th’t Sloplick (’reek
must lie jist right fer sucker flailin', an* so
I sneaked my |»ap‘s ehes’nnt pole an’
hosskiir line on ten the barn an’ cut crok*
CHARLOTTE, N. C. SATURDAY. APRIL 16, 1887.
lots fer the big bend o’ the creek, w’ich
were jist over a raise o’ ground from our
cabin in the clearin’, maybe four or five
rod away, but out. o’ sight, ’cause ’twere
in the Rulley, twenty-five foot lower*n
the clearin’. An’ speakin’ G’ sucker fish
m\ sonny* ye’ll see* ’foM 1 git. through
with this lectio ftnhcaotfy th’t th’ was
suckers in thc.cre'eks ih them days. Th’
haint none in ’em now, but tliujp a many
o’ ofte outen the creeks, an’ big tin’s;
toG. Wall, w'en I come in sight o’ whar
b)’ Sloplick ortcr been jist more th’n bib
ing, owin’ to the hard rains, I almos*
tumbled back in a faintin’ fit. Th'
waVt. no Sloplick thar! The bed o’ th*.
creek were drycr’n a salt herrin’! Ez fur ez
I could see down the creek, a picked
chicken couldn’t a ben no barer th'n
them rocks on the bottom was. The
creek had a fall o’ morc’n twenty foot to
the miled, an’ even in low water went
down by thar, on its way to the river
three miled below, like a jieelcd hemlock
log down roll way, an’ that she were,
nrtrrall them ruins, dry an’ empty from
bank to bank, Peleg, I were skeertj and
I tuck to tremblin’ truss th’n a hungry
dog nt daylight on a frosty morn
in’. I f.hqrt the world werfe Comiii’
to an end right thar an’ then. Pooty
soon 1 got stiddy enough to look, up the
Creek, an’ then I were skeert. wuss’n ever,
fet* ’bout a quarter of a miled away, in
that direction, thar w r ere the creek agoin’
bp stream ez fast ez it could tear! Goin’
right, up that big grade o’ twenty foot to
the miled, Peleg, like a train o’ keers!
W’en I see that I jist flopped right down
an’ waited fer the ’arthquakes an’ Gab'rcl
to come followin’ along, aeraekin’ an’
atootin’. I laid thar aw’ilc, but they
didn't neither on ’em come, an' the crcck
kep’ aelimbin’ up to’ards its headwaters,
zif it’d ben sent fer to come back hum
an’ hadn’t no time to spare gittin’ thar.
Tt were movin’ back’ards in a flood more’n
thirty foot high, ez nigh ez I could jedge
ffom seein’ the gable end of it, and pooty
soon I noticed that th’ were a heap o’
commotion on the edge of it.
“‘Wall,’ says 1 to myself, gittin’ up
outer my feet, ‘tb’ can't be nothin’ to
hurt a feller in a flood th t’s doin’ its
best to run away from him like
that,’ says I, ‘an’ so I guess I*ll
quit waitin’ fer Gabr'el an' the ’arth
qUakcs,’ says I, ‘an’ ’ll jist start arter that
creek an’ see w'at’s a ailin’ on it to
make it go an' cut up that way,’ says I.
“So away I dug ez tight ex my legs'd
carry me, but the creek had got such a
start o’ me that it tuck me a good half
hour ’fore I ketched up with it. An’ ez
soon ez I did ketch up with it, my son, I
see to wunst. w'at were ailin’ on it. Ye
must know, to git the hang o’this, Peleg,
th’t suckers starts fer the creeks on the
fust high water th’t comes in the spring,
an’ th’t they gether together by the boat
load at. the mouths of creeks waitin’ fer
the flood th’t tells 'em things is ready fer
’em up the creek, an’ then up they go.
That had been an onusu'l good season for
suckers to winter over in, an’ they had
waxed an’ grow’d fat, an’ gethered in
such uncommon big crowds, th’t w'en
they started in at the mouth o' Sloplick
Creek that ninth day o’ April, they jest
dammed the hull course o’the stream, an’
fer a time it had been nip an’ tuck ez to
w'ich’d lief to stop, the creek or the
suekers. But in them days suckers had
vim an’ push in ’em, These fellers at the
mouth o’ Sloplick had started to git up
that creek, an’ ’twa’n't their fault, b’gosh,
if it couldn’t furnish water enough, with
all the rain it’d had fer a week past, fer
’em to wiggle up on, so they jist put their
shoulders to the wheel, an’ at it they
went, an’ shoved the rushin* flood of pi’
Slopliek right back with 'em, pilin’ it up
in a wall thirty foot high, an’ beepin' her
a movin’ back so fast, steep ez the grade
were, th’t she couldn’t git no footholt,
an’ had to fro. So, of course, ev’rything
were left high an’ dry ahind that pushin’
army o’ suckers, an’ natur’ in them parts
were lookin’ queer.
“Peleg, when I ketched up to that, re
treatin’ creek, nothin’ could be seen on
face o’ that high wall but snouts, an’
tails, an’ fins, an’ backs, an’ bellies o’
suckers. They was piled on one another
from the bed o’ the creek to the top o'
the flood, pushin’ an’ shovin’ and crowd
in* to keep the ball a rollin’. I see w’at
the hull business meant to wunst, an’ I
pitched right in to do some o’ the tallest
•ticker fishin’ th't were ever hecrcd on
along Sloplick Crcck. I chucked away
my pole and duv inter that bank o’
suckers an’ jist went to minin’ fish by the
ton. They kep’ moon a dead nin to keep
up w ith ’em, they was h’istin’that stream
up hill so fast, but I grabbed an’ clawed
right an’ left, an’ throw'd suckers out on
the hank by the wagon load. I strung
suckers along the hanks fer a miled, an’
still the flood went a rollin’ uphill ezeasy
ez pickin’ up sticks. The headwaters o’
Sloplick Creek was in a swamp almost on
the top o’ Booby Ridge. Ez I were run
nin’ 'long ahind that sucker bank all of a
suddent it struck me that if nothin’ hap
pened to stop ’em, them suckcrs’d shove
the creek clean through the swamp, the
way they was goin’, and push her on over
the ridge, and then she’d £o tehoot down
t’other side, and an’ wipe Slayerop’s
clearing offen the face o’ creation quick
er’n light nin* could melt a tub of butter.
I were l>ound to see the fun, an’ if suck
ers wa'n’t the timidest an’ skeeriest crit
ters th’t swims, that fun’d a come to
pass.
“It had hap|>ened. sonny, th’t only
the other day afore this high ol’ sucker
fishin’ o’ mine, I had considered it a lec
tle piece o’ duty I owed to the commu
nity to pitch inter Hhadrack Jambcrry,
oP Poke Jambcrry a s boy, an* lam him
the projierrst kind. Consekently he had
a grudge agin me. He lived close to the
creek, nearly two iniled above our place,
at the Fiddlcr’s.Klbow Bend. This l>end
was so sharp th’t ez me an’ the stickers an’
the creek were cornin' to'ards the bend I
see Hhadrack nt undin** on the bank, an*
he see me. Th’ waVt nothin’ selfish
about me, so I hollered to Hhadrack, to
show him th't I din’t hev no hard feel
in’s, to tome back an’ toiler the circus,
an’ lay in a stock o’ suckers agin a coon
famine. But Hhadrack wa’n't of a meek
rtft’ fprgivin’s natur’ like me, an’ so, in
slid o’ trtkirt’ the olive branch I offered,
he grabs up a couple o’ big stuns no 1
chticks ’eiri in the Water tthend o’ me till*
the suckers. That skeCrt the timid fish
th’t was in the lead, itri’ they got dc
inor'lizcd an’ tiirned tail. Thti panifc
spread to the hull caboodle o’ suckers*
an’ the fiist thing I kno'w’d 1 wCfe h'istod
up in the air zif I'd ben blowcd U fi ini d
blast, an’ wh-o-o-o! away I were goin'
back clown stream like a hailstorm in a
hurrycane o’ wind! Thar I were. Peleg,
ridin* high an* dry on a big raft o’ suck
ers, an’ a gfiin’ surapin’ like a miled a
minute boun’ for somewhar, but whar I
didn 4 t know. Y’c ortcr be very thankful,
sonny, th't yer a livin’ now’, an’not in
them days w'en us pioneers was a suffer
in’ an’ a run nin’ risks like that, jist to
filant civ’lization an' git it in shape fer
oiks that's livin' now !
“I Were boosted way up so high by that
tnft o’ deiUoriized suckers th't ez wetore
along to’wards our folks's elcaritt’ I could
look right down otcr the taise twrixt it
ari’ the creek, an’ ez we come Higher 1
could sec my hard-workin’ pap settin’ in
the cabin door smokin’ his rorn-cOb pipe,
and my easy-goin’ mammy a choppin’
wood to git supper with. Thinks I(0
myself, I wonder if they’d fcvfcr find me
when tiiis runaway flood o’ b’ilin’ watertt
an’ panic-struck suckers comes to a head
some'rs? An’ jist. then we struck the bend
in the creek nigh the clearin’. The bend
were ’bout ez sudden ez the angle in a
ship-knee, an’ w’en the wall o’ suckers
plunked agin it the bank o’ the bend
bein’ twenty five foot high an’ all roek,
'twere like tho eomin* together o’ two in
gines. The body o' the army were fetched
up a standin', but me an’ the top layers o'
the sucker raft was five foot highcr’n the
rocks, an* as we hadn't hit. nothin’ we
kep’ straight, on. We left the water
route, an’ traveled the rest o’ the wav
by the air line, an’ ’fore my good
oi’ parents know’d w'at hit 'em they
was kivered snug an’ comfort’ble in
under sumpin’ like half nn acre o’
scukers, not countin' me. It took me
quite a w'ite to dig the ol* folks out; but
they wa'n't hurt anything wuth men
tionin'. My folks wa'n’t noways noted
fer bein’ curious 'bout, things, an' all th't
were ever said 'bout that big 6uckrr fish
o’mine was this. Mam says: ‘Whar'd
ye ketch ’em?’ ‘ln the bend o' the creek,’
I says, ‘l've alluz heered,’ says pap, ‘th’t
the best time to ketch suckers were on
the fust flood, an’ this makes it good.
An’ that ended it; but we had fresh
suckers, an’ salt suckers, an’ smoked
suckers, an' sucker pop from then on till
the nex’ Chris'mas. So ye we, Peleg,
that them wild waves didn't say nothin’
to me, but they got right up an’ done,
an’ —”
The Old Settler was cut short off in
whatever moral he intended to draw, for
the dozing cat hurled herself against his
stomach by one wild leap from the 6plint
bottomed rocking chair, and with a yell
that scared a dog on the opposite side of
the road, and brought Peleg's grand
mother out of the sitting room on a trot.
The cat sank its claws deeper and deeper
into the Old Settler, and he joined in the
yelling. Little Peleg went quietly out of
the kitchen door, and by the time his
grandmother had removed a patent
clothes pin from the cat’s tail ho was half
way over to Bill Simmons's. —Ed. Mott ,
in Afar York Sun.
A Prairie of Pitch.
I have just returned from a trip to tlfe
so-called “Pitch Lake,” writes a cor
respondent. from Port of Spain, Trinidad,
to ’the Philadelphia Inquirer. Running
-outh down the Parian Gulf to La Brea,
some forty miles distant, from this port,
we there disembarked, and, climbing a
gentle accent of HO feet, wc found the
lake, a little more than a mile inland.
Strictly speaking, there is no lake in the
"omnion .acceptance of the term, but a
level plain, composed of a concrete,
though flexible, mass of pitch, covering
in area of perhaps 100 acres.
Bushes, patches of vegetation and oc
casional pools of brackish water diversity
the surface here and there, giving It the
appearance of a mud swamp. There it
no difficulty in walking or wading from
Dne end to* the other, for with the sol©
exception of several places where the
pitch is in a state of ebullition in a soft
and viscid consistency the “lake” iR semi
solid. On it I found chestnut-colored
men ami women digging out large clods
of the asphalt with ax and shovel and
loading it upon donkey carts.
Each lump of the asphalt exhibited
nnall cavities, and wc were informed
the diggers that they never dig deep
enough to find the pitch at all softened.
The roughen***! surface of the pits is ex
posed to the tropical sun. and within a
few days the cavities an* full again. From
80,000 to 40,000 tons of the asphalt ar©
ring out every year, each cubic foot of
the pitch weighing *>n an average sixty
pounds. It is estimated that there arc in
Ihe deposit not lews than 10.000,000
Itounds which, at the present rate of (lif
ting, should last fully 8,000 years.
Safe DcposlJ Companies.
The idea of safe deposit companies, so
'oinmon and successful, originated with
the proprietor of a drinking saloon near
Washington Market. The butchers used
!o bring their tin boxes to him for storage
aver night in his safe, until finally he
?oul*l not accommodate them all. At
tending an auction sale one dav, he pur
hasrd a large safe, had it fitted into com
part merits, and assessed the cost ntnong
his patrons. Shortly afterward the first
safe deposit company was opened on
lower Broadway, on© of the promoter*
liaving watched the working of the *yi
tern described. Several "attempts have
bees mad© to introduce the system in
London, but have been unsuccessful e\-
•epting as concerns the “city.”—A«#
JVnfc Times,
DOLLARS BY THE TON. j
COUNTING THE CASH IN A TnfIT3D
STATES SUB-TREASURY.
What It Monti* to Count n Million
Hetefl Miles of Silver and Gold
ftixpedltimiN Work.
A recent IsSde of the Chicago II >
faVs : Thft'E t«y quiet toting nu n .*■ |
forking four days tinsw v cek counting l
money in the United States Sub-Trcasu |
in the Custom House. It was the occa*i< j
of the annual revision of Sub-Treasur*.
John J. Ilcaly's accounts, and the quic I
young men were experts sent here by flu |
Government. There were about five I
million dollars to l»e accounted for. and 1
they were, to a penny. Has anybody |
ever given the magnitude of a million an
caracst thought i Written out in figures, j
with the dollar mark in front of it— j
$1,000.000 —the amount does not look so I
very big. But, suppose that amount i? I
In silver dollars. It would take the most I
cxjiert teller tOA horns to count it. and j
then he would teqtilre the assistance ol |
two helpers to carry the coin to and fro. !
There are about, three million dollars in i
silver in the Bhlb-Tfeasufy, and to osccr- J
tairi thfc exact atiiofiftt by actual count »
would take nri expert Ovef forty days of j
ten hours' work Cach, This length »*t j
time would be required were all the coil j
in dollars, but as a! considerable port i*>
nfitisin fractional silver, the timeactualh ;
required would Ik* about sixty days.
Counting SI,OOO— “bag and tag.** a
the tcchniqd expression goes—is done 1 *
an expert teller in eight minutes by scrap
ing $2 at a time into bis band until h
has made a stack of S2O. In case of ball
dollars, which, like quarters, are stackc*.
in $lO piles, the. operation consume
eighteen minutes for SI,OOO. To theuu
initiated the counting is a bewildering
proceeding. Two men sit bent'ovrr ;>
smooth oak table, and a bag of SI,OOO i
emptied between them by one of th
helpers. Their hands rush into the pile,
forming it into narrow silver or golden
hands, as the case may be, from the cen
tre toward its teller, anfl, two at. a time,
the pieces are raked into the hand. The
precious chink, chink, chink is so over
whclmingly beautiful as to make anordi
nary mortal speechless with suspense.
There is not a word spoken besides the
whispered directions of the supervisors to
the helpers. But. then actual count, of
silver is made only when the balance
scales on which each bag is weighed in
dicate a variance in the weight of fifty
nine pound • for 1,000 silver dollars, and
fifty-five pounds for SI,OOO in fractional
silver. The silver and gold in the Chicago
Sub-Treasury, piled up piece by piece,
would make a roll of 118,044 feet, or more
than seven miles in length. The paper
money and other securities, were they all
of the denomination of $5, would only
make a pyramid of 53 inches, or 4 5-12'
feet in height. Still, as there would be
$1,055,452 in such pyramid, one might
be satisfied with tho smaller pile. Inas
much as there are stacks of SIO,OOO.
$5,000. SI,OOO and SSOO bills, not to
speak of the larger-sized certificates, §nc
could carry these millions of paper money
away in a trunk of ordinary size, while
the silver and gold would take up the
carrying capacity of twelve railroad
freight cars bearing ten ton? each.
The coin, as it is received ia the Sub-
Treasury, is placed in bags containing
SI,OOO. and coin received in the routine
of business is similarly packed. The
tellers count one bag in which new and
worn coins are mixed in a ratio corre
sponding with the occurrence of such coin
in practical business life. The weight
will be about fifty nine pounds, a little
more ora !ittie less.. This hag, with the
money counted, is placed on one side of
•the balance scales and the other bags are
placed against it one by one. The con
tents of any bag not coming up to th*’
standard have to be counted. In almost
every instance it turns out that the lighter
weight is caused by wear and tear. The
Impcr money, of course,has to be counted,
t is done at a big table all covered with
money. Here the currency is first assort
ed, the denominations being chiefly from
$1 to SIOO. Bills for larger amounts are
rare. SIO,OOO being the highest denomina
tion of any of Uncle Sam’s evidences of
indebtedness. The bills must be assorted
and piled together according to their
class. Ones and twos may go together,
fives, tens ami twenties, and fifties and
hundreds. National bank notes, green
backs and gold and silver certificates
must 1m? kept separate. There are so
many kinds of denominations of money
that the teller, in assorting it, cover* the
whole table.
Inasmuch os the financial policy of the
Gorvcrmnent is to withdraw $1 and $2
bills from circulation, the $5 bill is the
most .frequent, and forms the bulk of the
tellers' work. There are alwayc 100 bills
in one package, no matter what the de
nomination may lie, and 400 new, crisp
bills, piled on top of each other, will
make a snug little package of one inch
in height. Thus, in slo,oooin bills a
man could easily earn' $40,000 in n pock
©tbook of the requisite dimensions for
bank notes. Forty packages of 100 bills
are form***l into a bundle and Htrnj>|H*d
and sealed for transportation.* New bank
notes, direct from tne Treasury Depart
ment, are not only consecutively num
bered but automatically counted by the
same machine that numbers them. Still,
the accountants who handle these delight
ful sliiis of paper arc bound to count
them nv hand, and as they finger the
crisp leaves they ascertain by the touch
of ine paper whether a counterfeit ha*
sneaked in. The hank notes an* all of
the same size, no matter whether Undo
Sam premises to pay $5 or SIO,OOO for
the ornamental piece of jwper.
— 1 ■ • • • —— •
Gold in small quantities ha* been found
at San Diego. It is suspected that the
wife of an editor haft gone through her
hustmnd's trousers' lleckcts. —lforridotm
Herald.
Terms. $1.50 per Annum. Single Copy 5 cents.
OLD-FASHIONED ROSES.
They ain’t, no style about ’em,
And they’re sorter pale and faded;
Yifc the doorway here without ’em
« Would bo lonesomer, and shaded
With a good ’eal blacker shadder
Than the momin’ glories makes,
And the sunshine would look sadder.
For their good, old-fashioned sokes.
I like ’em 'cause they kind o’
Sorter makes a feller like ’em;
And I tell you when you find a
Bunch out whur the sun cad strike ’em
It allns sets me thinkin’
O’ the one© at used to grow,
And peek in through the chinkin’
O’ the cabin, don’t you know.
And then I think o’ mother,
And how Rho used to 10/e ’em,
"When they wasn’t any other,
'Less they found Vm up above 'em!
And her eyes, afore she shut ’em,
Whispered with a smile, and said,
We must pluqk a bunch and put ’em
Ih her hand when she woe dead.
But, as I wuz a sayin*.
They ain't no style about ’em
Very gaudy or displayin’,
But I wouldn't be without ’em,
’Cause I'm happier in these poses
And the hollyhawks and sich
Than tho hummin’ bird ’at nosss
In the roses of the rich.
—Jamen Whitcomb Riley}
— -
HUMOR OF THE DAY.
The Prince of Wail*—The tom cat.
An important question—ls her father
w cal til y?— fid- Hi t*.
The crematory is the hum from which
no traveler returns. — Pittsburgh Diep&tch. ‘
The fishery question—Did you bring
the. flask with you, Jack?— Boston Cou
rier.
How to keep the hoys at home—induce
some of the neighbor's girls to nin in
often.
“Beware of a man of one book,” espe
cially if it is a subscription book. Boston
Bulletin.
That this world is not halanr**d right
Is plainly to b*» s**«»n,
When ono’man walks to make him fat.
And another to make him lean.
—Daneville Breeze
A correspondent wants to know the
meaning of “Pro Bono Publico.” In a
majority of rases it means that the writer
who thus signs his newspaper communi
cation ia a chronic growler.— Norristown
Herald.
“Johnny,” said a mother to her son.
nine years old, “go and wash your
face; lam ashamed of seeing you come
to dinner with such a dirty mouth.” “I
did wash it, mamma,” and feeling his
upper lip, said gravely: “I think it must
be a mustache coming.— Siftings.
That Cupid in blindness must, follow hi»
works,
Is a blessing, and not a disaster.
Since it keeps the men from seeing th© pim
ple that lurks
Neath the maiden's small patch of court
plaster.
-Merchant-Traveler
‘ ’ What a mobile countenance Mis* L.
has,” said a gentleman to a young lady at
a social gathering the other evening.
“Y’cs,” replied the young woman with an
effort to smile, for Miss L. was her hated
rival, “she has a very 3lobile countenance
and New Orleans molasses colored hair.”
And she elevated her little tmg nose a*
high as she could, and founa an attrac
tion at the other side of the room.—ll
mira Gazette.
WISE* WORDS.
Conscience is the voice of the soul; the
passions arc the voice of the body.
The first and last thing which is re
quired of genius is the love of truth.
Hidden virtue is often despised, inas
much as nothing extols it in our eyes.
The reproaches of enemies should
quicken us to duty, and not keep us from
duty.
Pleasure must first have the warrant
that it is without sin; then, the measure,
that it is without excess.
Unnatural deeds do breed unnatural
troubles. Infected minds to their deaf
pillows will discharge their secrets.
Life is before you—not earthly life
alone, but life, a thread running inter
minably through the warp of eternity.
Every beautiful, pure and good thought
which the heart entertains is an angel of
mercy, purifying and guarding the soul.
Let a man learn that everything in na
ture, even motes and feathers, go by law
and not by “luck,” and that what he sows
he reajw.
Oh, how small a portion of earth will
hold us when we arc dead, who am
bitiously seek after the whole world while
wc are living!
As the medical probities of some
plants can be adduced only by distills
tion, so our good qualities can only be
proved by trials.
Great efforts from great motiv**s is the
bent definition of a happy life. The
easiest labor is a burden to him who has
no motive for performing it.
— - ■
A Good Sleeper.
A 12-yenr-old school boy, who bad so
Ik* called a dozen times in the morning
before he came down to breakfast, was
reuse* 1 from his mat in slumbers the other
day by a loud clap of thunder, the electric
l>o!t knocking a big hole in tho roof of
the house, going through the ceiling,
splitting o|M*n the headboard of the bed,
singeing hi* hair, and passing through
the. floor and out at the kitchen door.
The hid partly opened his eyes, faintly
murmured: “Yes, I’m coming,” and im-
I mediately turned over for a freah snooze.
' —Norristown Herald.
I In !.ondoii there are 201 shorthand rc
port era for leading ncwqvtpcrs.