North Carolina Newspapers

77 E STANDARD. THE STANDARD. T AND ARB. WE DO ALL KINDS OF job "woirik: LAlUiEST PAPER rr.LlslIKD IX concord - , oM Al-NS MOKK READING MA'iTKK THAN ANY OTHER i-M'KU IN THIS SECTION. Tin: i.nxt; a;o. 1'HII.O HENDERSON'. (). -. wonderful stream is the river . :' Time, As ;t runs through the realm of tears, V;:h a faultless rhythm and a ruu sieal rhyme And a broader sweep and a surge sublim.-, A; i l 'i mis with the ocean of years ! li v, the winters are diiftiug like i' ik s of snow, Ai.d the summers like buds be- t w i oU, A :d the ears in the sheuf so they ouie and they go On the river's breast, with its ebb and llow, A it glides in the shadow and sheen ! Tin re's a magical Isle in the rh of Time, -Where the soitest of aire ar j play ing; I la re's a cloudless sky and a trop ical clime, And a song as sweet as a vesper chime, A;d the Junes with the roses are laying. And the name of this Isle is Long Ago, And we bury our treasures tLere; 71 ( ic are brows of beauty and bos cms of snow, 'i here are heaps cf dust but we lvvt-d them so ! I-.i iv are trinkets and tresses of hair. T . re are fiagmeuts of song that nobody sings, And a part of an infant's prayer ; Tke.t s a lute unswept, end a harp without strings, i 1 tie are broken vows and pieces of linps, A '. .ho i: anient she used to wear. T .: are hands that are waved v. 1 1 ;i tie fniry shore t'y tin- mirage is lifted in air ; A:, t ', e soiretinres hear, through :hi turbulent roar, ' t voices heard in the days no before, i n the wind down the river is :;dr. (':. : iviuc nibered for aye be that Hosed Isle, A! I the day of life till night ; V I: n the evening comes with its beautiful smile, And our eyes are closing to slum 1 . r awhile, M iy ;hat "greenwood of soul be in ;.. t." - llit by llift Own Petnrd. L !.'.. n Court Journal. ;ii you kindly allow ma to v i . . : " ;i.-ked a gentleman as he ; ' .:.:. a railway carriage, which . ,v contained the specified nura i . . -v , :t :i.ily not eir," exclaimed a li.'-'i occupying a corner gear, !:.! door. "The way these :. ;.iv overcrowded is shameful." "A- y.m appear to be the only 1 ; - ulio objects to my presence," iv;,: ; I he gentleman, ''I shall re v. hi re I am." li. n I shall call the guard to ' ' .; removed, sir." the action to the word, the 1 passenger rose, and put-hi- head out of the window . -ly summoned the guard. ;. comer saw his opportunity id , :ittly slipped into the corner What's up?" inquired the guard h p n.-d the carriage door, "..our the number," replied --vromer, coolly. "V-.'.i must come out sir; the : ir"ing on," aud without wait- i r further explanation a:d jiiilled out the aggrieved - !:' '., who was left wildly ges- 'dating on the platform. He Took It Away. -:! i'nr Press. !! rang the door-bell of a hous ' Nc.nd Avenue and then sat 'w.. n a minute he rose up and a.ain. Then he waited a spell : for the third time. Soon the lady of the house, i "g a dozen proofs of sick he, opened the door and de- Ar- o i irji'ig to pull the house "' . n: i';n," he answered. "Have U- 'Lives of Plutarch ?" " . sir, hut if I was a man I'd m :hv in about a minute." d di - aii! 1 see, madam. I guess d h r,.r -n." t h.' took the "Lives of Plu ;'yh" under his arm, and his own ' i li am!, and backed down the ami out of the gate and weiitoff d; :! air of a man who wished lie Uy asiiuii iproiiH Seldom Sinokf. --''.!- la pulilic A j " idiaiity about the blind is 'hat t In n- is seldom one of th?m u h" siiinkcs. Soldiers and sailors ' ''":-ioiued to smoking, and who !. st the. r tight in action, con-- to smoke for a short while, but ;7 11 five up the habit. They say ' a; ii gives them no pleasure when ' ''"' cannot see the smoke, and some '' --aid that they cannot taste the ' unless they see it. This al demonstrates the theory that if :' h!iii(f(,( a man in a room full Miioke and put a lighted ' an unlighted cigar in his ""!', alternately he will not ddc to tell the difference. VOL. II. NO. 50. o In I lie Present. RY THOMAS WIXECOFF. Davidson Monthly. 'Tis pleasant to live again in memory the happy days of the past, or in imagination to lift the veil of a future ever bright. When over whelmed with the cares and troubles of life, bright visions of bygone hap piness often rise to cheer our gloomy solitude; and hope, with soothing voice, sings to us of an unclouded future. We love to touch the keys of memory and hidden springs of joy, bitter waters of sadness stir all its though the and sorrow may sometimes mingle with the sweet. Memory is indeed a precious store-house; but we should be daily j adding to its golden hoard instead of living only amid the treasures already gathered. Life is terribly injured when it looks only backward. We should not be so engrossed with the joys of the past that we are ir responsive to those of the present. The springtime must be followed by summer suns, and summer must give place to the falling leaves of autumn or winter's chilling winds. The springtime had its work when its genial forces sent the warm cur rents of life through the body of sleeping nature aud woke it from the deathlike repose of winter; but it were surely vain to look for mel low fruit or ripened grain from the suns of JIay. And so with us. The joys and sorrow of the past were meant to give us experience, to prepare us for the work of thepresent, not to take its place. The accomplish ments of the past, however great or glorious, cannot relieve us from the responsibilities of the present. They were merely to give us that much added power for the duties of to-day. That we did those things then was in itself an earnest of other and greater achievements awaiting us in the future. Nor should the sorrows of the past occupy our iuiuds now. 'Tis true, they had their message for ns, a message telling of new truths and bidding our hearts beat to nobler impulses, and our characters assume a purer cast; but useless is the scaffoldiug when the structure is complete ; and instead of even re membering these sorrows, we should retain only their impress on our hearts. Not even the follies, mistakes and sins with which we ourselves have marred our past, are to be be forever wept. True repentance is not mere ly a sorrow, it is a turning away. St. Augustine has well said that of our vices we may frame a ladder that shall lift us to a higher destiny. Instead of stopping to mourn over our mistakes, we ought to make each one of them a step in the stair way that leads to life's great end. Let each one of them engrave upon our minds, not a lesson of continu ous grief, but a lesson of increased wisdom. "Deem not the irrevocable past As wholly wasted, wholly vain, If, rising on its wrecks, at last To something nobler we attaia." Even if Me have by some fatal misdeed lessened our possibilities for usefulness in life, yet do not let useless grief, which can never undo the past, lessen them still more. Though our life may never be what it would have been but for these things, though we may again in the future make other missteps, still it need not, should not, be ignoble. Then "Weep not for the past, 'tis r. dream that has fled. If s sunshine has vnn'shed, its gar lands are dead ; Woep not, child of sorrow, for hopes Ut u-pre thine. LTnblest are the gifts of an uuhal lowed shrine : Thy idol ivas earthly, thy life-star has set ; Bi ight stars are in heaven that beam for thee ye'.' But as we should not fill our minds with memories of the past, no more ought we to spend our (lays with idle daydreams and air castles, vain imaginings of the unknown and unknowable future. As the hours of the past are gone back to the (iod who gave them, so are those of the future still at His command to give or withold ; only the present is ours. But this present i3 rich in possibilities; every hour that God sends is fraught with golden oppor tunities, though we may not always view them as such. The opportu nity of speaking to the erring a word of kindly recall, of relieving the faint, or of cheering the hearts that are gloomy and sad, may seem small things to us now and of little im portance; but the turn of thesa small things makes up life. "Small sands the mountain, Moments make tue year, And trifles life." The way in which we use these opportunities of the present will determine the pattern of our web of life. The loom of life never stops, and the pattern which was weaving when the sun went down will be weaving when it comes up again. That which we do to-day will be with us tomorrow. The present slopes the future, and mates our past. Bit by bit our character is taking shape, and our life work stretching out behind us. In se cresy and silence our character is forming. Each hour's deeds sup ply the material and determine the form and strength of the fabric. Each day something uew is added, and the structure rises steadily aud quietly as the coral reef rises be neath the sea. We cannot dream ourselves into a character; v, but while we are idly dreaming of fu ture usefulness, we are fast losing the power of beiug useful. 1 we would have a noble life, we must by daily practice hammer and forge it out for ourselres. The wide uni verse is full of good, but neither present nor future will ever bring us one morsel of it except by our own endeavor. Then let us grasp that good while yet we may, before by our idleness we lose the power and opportunity of endeavor. Our todays are fast slipping away into the great ocean of yesterdays, and life is too short to lose one moment Every to-day has a work which no to-morrow can perform, and an hour wasted is gone beyond recall. Then "act, act in the living present," which constitutes our sole but sure possession. "The present is ours, To shroud it tin sadness, or gild it with flowers ; To sink on life's ocean or find on its wave A halo that wakes e'ei the grave." The Month i Ours. News ami Observer. nun wtiat rapid strides we are the acquiring the mastery over plauet Earth finds an illustration in two events of the day. A railway company has been incorporated un der the supervervision of Col. Par sons, of Virginia, to construct rail roads in South America. The cap ital is to be a cool hundred million of dollars. It is to construct a line from the mouth of Magdalena River on the Caribbean Sea along the eastern base of Andes, the headwa ters of the Amazon, down to Pern and connect at the south with the Peruvian and Argentine systems, and thence by means cf steamers at the north to connect with the Flori da road, the Atlantic coast line and other railroad systems of this coun try. This is a grand business oper ation. Another illustration is of a different nature Two women are racing around the world merely to see how quickly the trip can be made. During the revolutionary war Capt. Cook was sailing about in the Pacific on a voyage discovery, and his mission wa3 deemed so im portant that notw ithstanding France and England were at war, the French gave orders to aid him rath er than hinder him. To-day Miss JNellie lily and Miss liisiand are flying over land and water to see which will "get there" first. The latter went west, the former east. They are thought to have passed each other these two unprotected young women in the China sea with the chances in favor of Miss Bislahd for winning the race. The time calculated on for the journey is seventy-five days. Very soon it will happen that our elbows will touch, girding the entire circum ference of mother Earth. Jr. lUciihlns Retort. Youth's Companion. Farmer Blenkins, whose wife, Mary Jane, is noted for never being pleased with anything that she sees or hears, seldom has a chance to administer a rebuke of her disa greeably critical habit; but one day his opportunity came, and he did not miss it. They had been to Boston together, and on their retnru home one of the neighbors dropped in and began a conversation. "Ben to Boston, hev ye, Bleu kins ?" "Yes." "Mis' Blenkins go 'long?" "TJm hum." "Laws sake!" snapped out Airs. Blenkins. "Every thin' I see there wus jest frightful!" "I believe ye, Mary Jane," broke in Farmer Blenkins. "Ye wa'n't doin' nothing' the whole day but stoppin' in front o' looking glasses !" Capt. Drake, a prominent farmer of Marlborough county, S. 0., has beaten the world's record for raising the most corn per acre upon his land. He raised 250 bushels and 40 pounds from one acre and is compitinr for a $1,000 prize offered by the National Department of Ag riculture for tue greatest yield. CONCORD, N. C, FRIDAY, JANUARY 3. 1890. Slag King' Dentil Chamber. The execution by electricity of Charles McElvain, the murderer of Luca, the Brooklyn grocer, is set down to take place next week, be tween sunrise Monday and sunset Saturday. Warden Brush, at Sing Sing, has been quietly making prep aiations for the unpleasant event. The one-story brick building, thirty feet square, in which the electric chair is to be placed, has been com pleted. It stands at the rear of the prison, against the walls of the dark cells. A gang: of convict stone workers were laying a heavy stone floor in the building when the re porter entered yesterday. It is a dark,- dismal, place,, and the back walls cannot be seen from the little narrow entrance. There are a few very small openings around top of the walls, which are to serve as win dows, but little or no light is thrown into the building from these open ings. The bare brick walls will re main as they are, and the only fur nishings of the dismal chamber will be the fatal electric chair and the connections leading to the dynamo. Sute Electrician Brown will have his instrument of death iu thorough working order by Saturday next. Warden Brush wa8 not at the prison yesterday, being away in Albany. Principal Keeper Uonnaughton said that not more than twenty persons would be present at the execution. Although it was known that the condemned man's counsel had filed a notice of appeal, no official notifi cation was received at the prison up to late hour last night. It was stat ed by some of the prison officials that Warden Brush was much agi tated and very nervous over McEl vain e's case. Weteru Wisdom. The man who rests lets others overtake him. Deserve the good opinion of those who think well of yon. Those people are best to us who never expect us to say they are good. The man who turns over a new leaf too often will soon use up his ledger. You are all right if the people hold some other person responsible for your faults. You don't care how much a man thinks of himself so" long as he thiuks well of you. Next to "I told you so," the great est cross a man has to bear in this world is "If I were you." The easiest money to spend, and the hardest money to save, is that which we have not yet earned. The man with the ability too of ten lacks the confidence, and the man with the confidence seldom has the ability. We never see some men that we do not regret that they are not chil dren, so that their mothers could call them in. It is one of the great vexations of a woman's life that when she is dressed up ready for callers no one ever comes. Never make haste to spend your money foolishly out of fear that there will be no more opportunities to spend it wisely. The Hottest Spot on Earth. The hottest region on the earth is on the southwestern coast of Persia, where Persia borders the gulf of the same name, ror lorty consecutive days in the months of July and Au gust the thermometer has -been known to not fall lower than 100 night or day, and to often run up as high as 128 in the afternoon. At Bahriu, in the center of the torrid part of the torrid belt, a? though it were nature's intention to make the region as unbearable as possible, no water can ne ootainea irom digging wells 100, 200 and even 500 feet deep, yet a comparatively numerous population contrive to live there, thanks to copious springs, which break from the bottom of the gulf more than a mile from shore. The water from these springs is obtained by divers, who dive to the bottom and fill goatskin bags with the cool ing liquid and sell it for a living. The source of these submarine foun tains is thought to be m the green hills of Osuian, some 500 or 600 miles away. Each square inch of the skin con tains 3,500 sweating tubes, or per spiration pores, each of which may be likened to' a little drain-tile one fourth of an inch in length, making an aggregate length of the entire surface of the body of 201,166 feet, or a tile ditch for draining the body alniost forty miles long. Smoking. The New York Herald has been asking celebrated divines for their opinions and experience in relation to the tobacco habit. Talmas:e writes : "For many years I smoked cigars, but I do not now think ef smoking a cigar any more than I would drink a vial of laudanum. I came to give up the habit in this way: I was living in Syracuse, N. Y., but had just been called to Phil adelphia. An elder in the Philadel phia church to which I accepted a call offered, as one of the induce ments to my coming, that he would give me all the cigars I wanted the rest of my life free of charge. He vas"a wholesale tobacconist and would have kept his promise. At that time cigars were higher in price than they are now, and the offer meant the saving of a great deal of money to me. I was then smoking to my full capacity that is, I used as many cigars as health would per mit. I thought to myself what would happen if I should get them free! The thought so appalled me that I made a resolution then and there to stop smoking and never touch tobacco again in any manner or form. And from that day to this I never have. Now I would not take up smoking again for all the surplus in the Treasury:" Dr. Thomas Armitage says it is neither better nor worse in the sight of God for clergymen to smoke tobacco than t!s for other men to do so. He ..as never tasted tobacco in any form. He calls tobacco and rum the "twin daughters of Satan." The venera ble metaphysician, Dr. McCcsh, of Princeton, says: "Smoking will be put down when young ladies declare that they will not look with favor on a young man who smokes, and when congregations declare that they will not take a minister who smokes." Dr. Buchard is the only man in the whole list, we believe, who confesses the smoking habit. "For the re lief of an early iufirmity I have in dulged in the use of one cigar a day for more than fifty years, and have experienced no evil effects." No outhern clergyman was called upon for hS opinion. The large majority of them 6moke or 'chaw.' The stu dent who does not smoke denies him self a g-eat luxury indeed. Unless a man is declined to be a dyspeptic the smoking habit in moderation is very beneficial. An Iiiteresllnu Question. Can vou tell me whether wild an- imals usually die a natural death, and what becomes of their bodies af ter death ? Why are not their car casses found ? Some Hindus main tain that wild animals in a state of nature, being in perfect harmony with the laws of God, never die. They say that only man and domes tic animals, because they have sub verted these laws, die. W. A. M. The question is answered by the Boston Transcript, as follows: "It is a curious fact that the bodies of animals that are supposed to have died a natural death are very rarely found. Manv old hunters assert that they have never seen one in a whole life-time spent in forests and localities where game is plenty, This fact has given rise to a popular belief that animals never die in a wild state, unless by violence. The idea is, of course, an absurd one, but it opens up the question where do they go to die, and how do they manage to conceal tnemselves so that their remains never come to light?" I'artte These (Sentences. lie said that that that that man said was that that that one should say; but that that that that man said. was that that that man should not say. That reminds us of the following "says and saids": Mr. B., did you say, or did you not say what I said? Because C. said you said you never did say what I said you said. Now, if you did say that you did not say what I said you said, then what did you say? . These remind us of the man nam ed Ammi, who was heard. muttering am I Ammi or am I not Ammi? and if I am not Ammi who in the devil am I? Clover Sickness. Lawes and Gilbert seem to attri bute the failure of clover to catch not so much to the season as to clo ver sickness. Clover frequently catches and afterwards fails to make a growth that the quality of the land would lead ns to expect, and that is most probably their "clover sick ness." For this no manure or change of manures has yet been found. Nothing but rest and the substitution of other crops for some time avails. American Farmer. Why the Church Ws ot I'seil. The following, taken from the Richmond Dispatch, was written by Dr. C. li. Vaughan, pastor of New Providence church, Virginia, in ex planation of the action of the session in not allowing the funeral of Dr. and Mrs. Walker to be conducted from the church. On Saturday, after the fatal con flict in Brownsburg, the pastor of New Providence church was ap proached with a request to conduct a funeral service at the burial of Henry Miller. He at once acceded to the request,' never dreaming that any opposition would be made to its beiug held in the church in the us ual way. The church does not en dorse the character or assume any responsibility for the conduct of any party whatever as good or bad by admitting the body of the dead within the walls of her sanctuary. If this is construed as the effect of such action the church would be compelled to close her doors against all funeral rites. But the design of the services is not for the benefit of the dead, but of the living; not to endorse the character or condone the faults or exalt the virtues of the dead, but simply to acknowledge the hand of the Lord of Life,and to turn the event to account for the admoni tion of the living. In addition to this general consideration several of the female members of Miller's fam ily were members of New Providence church in .unimpeached standing and entitled to due consideration ii. their deep distress. The engage ment to conduct the services in the usual way was therefore undertaken. But on going to the meeting of Ses sion on Sunday morning the pastor was surprised to learn that intense opposition existed to Miller's body being carried into the sacred build ing. This feeling was first manifest ed iu the Session itself, but before the discussion had proceeded far a deputy from the people assembled on the ground appeared before the court of the church and in strong terms protested against the funeral being conducted iu the church. This pres sure was not to be resisted. A mo tion was made to prevent the use of the church, carried, and a minute adopted to send a messenger to the Miller family with a note announc ing that owing to the popular ex citement the burial services must be held iu the cemetery. To this the family readily agreed and the servi ces were held in the presence of a large company, most of whom were entire strangers in the community. Everything passed off quietly. On Monday the bodies of Dr. Walker and his wife were to be buri ed at 11 o'clock. Up to 9 or half past 9 o'clock no word or wish had been expressed to the pastor of New Providence church that he should take any part in any funeral rite. It was understood that the whole ser vice would be conducted by the Ma sonic body, of which Dr. Walker was a member. Left completely in the dark, and yet feeling extremely unwilling to be construed as indiffer ent in a case so pathetic, the pastor determined to go into Brownsburg, two miles distant, and find out by direct inquiry if anything was ex pected of him. Neither DrWalker nor his wife were members of New Providence church. Both had been, but their connection had been severed more than ten years. Dr. Walker rented a pew for the accommodation of his family and f rienns whenever there was accasion to use it. His wife sometimes attended; he himself very rarely. An unhappy difficulty has existed between him and the church for many years which no ne gotiations could heal, though at tempted often and with great solici tude. But these circumstances were allowed no weight when the pastor went on his mission of inquiry. It turned out that but for this call of the pastor of New Providence no ser vices at all would have been held. The Masons declined to act, we learn in accordance to Masonic law. When his inquiry was made it was prompt ly answered by friends of Dr. Wal ker that a service was expected of him and both regret and wonder ex pressed that no notice had been giv en him. His offer of service was accepted, and stating that it was necessary that he should returu to make some preparation, and excus ing himself from waiting for the procession, he returned at once. The preparation he designed was first to have the church opened, and second to prepare the heads of a brief ad dress. .As he passed out of the room he met the sexton of the church, and at once told him he must go and pre pare the building for service. He said it was already done, and the pastor returned to make the funeral preparations necessary. He had no WHOLE NO. 1022. other thought than owning the house for the service. It has been stated that the pastor of a Presbyte rian church has sole control of the building in funeral matters, "and there the whole weight of the exclu sion of the bodies of Dr. Walker and his wife has been thrown upon the pastor of New Priyidence. With how much justice the above narra tive will show. While there is no general law in the Presbyterian sys tem prescribing when, where, or how funeral services are to be held, the building is under the legislative con- of the Session, whose orders, when passed, are binding on every member of the body, pastor and all. While rapidly making his preparations for a service some of the elders of the church came to him with the an nouncement that the motion of Sun day to exclude the body of Miller applied equally to the other party in the feud. Although reluctant to see this course pursued and foreboding evil consequences in the church and in the community out of it, there was nothing to do but obey the law as interpreted by the members of the body which made it. The action was accordingly taken, and the fu neral rites necessarily shortened em braced only the usual services em ployed at the open grave with a few remarks of a personal character. Sketch r Henry XV- Grady. Henry Woodfen Grady, was born in 1851, at Athens, Ga., of stock in which runs the blood of the Irish patriots Curran and OT!onnell. Athens is a pretty place nestling among the hills of eastern Georgia; it is called classical Athens, being the point towards which mauy young men of the south turn for an edu cation. Grady's father, was a colo nel iu the Confederate army and lost his life when his son, later on to be so intimately connected with the rise cf the then suffering south, was but 14 years old. It was about this time that young Grady entered the University of Georgia, which is located at Athens. Here, after a brilliant course, he graduated firsb'in his clas?1jindthen went to the celebrated University of Virginia, founded by Thomas Jefferson, where he continued his studies. The gift of eloquence was apparent at an early age, and bef ore he became distinguised he had es tablished a reputation among a lim ited acquaintance as an orator. VJpou leaving college Mr. Grady became a correspondent of The Atlanta Constitution, the paper he afterwards edited. In this field he soon gained a reputation for being a pungent and forcible writer. Desir ing to act for himself he established a paper at Rome, Ga. The paper soon became remarkable for the strength of its editorial comments from the pen of the proprietor. HIS RISE IX JOURXALISM. But Mr. Grady desired a wilder field. Atlanta soon began to attract attention as one of the new southern centers, and there Mr. Grady went. He became one of the proprietors of the Atlanta Daily Herald. His work on the paper gave him a repu tation from the racy and picturesque style in which he commented on cur rent events. But the paper was not destined to live long. It was in di rect opposition to the Constitution, and there was not room for both. In spite of the Herald's brilliant management it went to the wall in about a year after Grady undertook it. He made one more attempt to establish a paper of his own. He started the Atlanta Courier, but again failing he abandoned the at tempt altogether. Mr. Grady was still quite a yonng man. He held a pen which was al ways in requisition, writing for the Louisville Courier-Journal, The At lanta Constitution and other papers. James Gordon Bennett, the elder, appointed him Georgia correspond ent of the New York Herald, and this position he held for six years. In this way he continued to grow in experience and reputation till for tune came to him by a lucky rail way speculation. Making some $20,000 by a rise in railway stock he purchased with it a quarter interest in The Atlanta Constitution. FROM THE DESK TO THE PLATFORM. As a journalist Mr. Grady wa3 at once pungent, brilliant and pos sessed of excellent literary taste. With a keen instinct of what the public require in the shape of news and editorial comment, he managed the paper in the interest of the community in the vicinity of Atlanta and not without a careful regard for national events. Ia the south he was considered the most thoroughly equipped journalist sooth of Mason and Dixon's line. Mr. Grady's opportunity to thus IN THE XEA TES T MA NJYE R AND AT THE LOWEST 1MTV.S. lift himself above other southern journalists came with the Charleston earthquakes in 188G. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good' aud the sufferings and terrors of the people of Charleston proved a fit subject for Mr. Grady to show his powers of description. A series of letters to the New York World sud denly gave him an enviable reputa tion. As Mr. Grady thus suddenly gained a national eminence in jour nalism so he attained national re pute as an orator Indeed, it is an orator, that he is best kuown, espe cially m the north. At the annual dinner of the New England society, held in New York in 1886, he was invited to speak. The effort wa3 worthy to place any man on a high pinnacle of oratcrical fame, and it at once announced the speaker as an orator to all the American people. That speech was an important event in Mr. Grady's life, and it is so full of eloquence, that it should be read by all. It is an impas sioned oration ; one spoken upon the spur of the moment, and full of that genius which comes with in spiration. Before the dinner a cor respondent of the Atlanta Constitu tion asked him what he would say. "The Lord only knows," he re plied. "I have thought of a thou sand things to say, five hundred of which if I say they will murder ms when I get back home, and if I say the other five hundred they will murder me at the banquet." Yet the result of Grady's eloquence was that the New Englanders gave him an ovation at the conclusion cf his speech, and the southerners stood in crowds for hours in the rain to cheer him on his arrival in At lanta. PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS. Mr Grady was a medium sized, heavy set man. He wore no beard, his face always being smooth sha ven. He was of dark complexion, with black hair and eyes. His voice was pitched on a low key, but with great carrying power. Like such speakers usually, he was a man of remarkable personal magnetism, and like men of genius, he took no thought as to conventionalities, and wa3 full of eccentricities. He was extremely popular, and counted his friends by thousands, not only in Atlanta, but all over the south grady's last days. Some time during the latter part of November Mr. Grady was attack ed with vertigo while standing at his residence. Some time later he was confined to his room, but got out of a sick bed to attend a Masonic banquet, where he delivered a short address. In that speech he referred to his health and said that while the fever was pulsing through his veins he thought of his boyhood days and could see the white pigeons fluttering in the air aud hear the music of the birds. He went to Boston against the advice of his physician, as he wa3 threatened with pneumonia. In Boston and other places he visited he greatly exposed himself and con tracted a new cold. He was attend ed by Dr. Goldthwaite in New York and acting under his advice, re turned to Atlanta. Dr. Goldthwaite stated that he thought all danger of pneumonia past, un tne journey home Mr. Grady was despondent and suffering from nervous depression. "I am going to be seriously sick, I know," he said to all who inquired about his health. He complained of nausea and weakness and refused to take any food. At Lula he tele graphed Dr. Orme to meet him when the train arrived in Atlanta. For a day and a half he remained concious but since Thursday night he was de lirious. On Thursday his son spoke to him and told him of something to be done when he got well. "Your father will never get well, my boy," was the answer. (Continued on 2nd page.) Horses In Vark Ntabies. The pupii of a horse's eye is en larged by being kept in a dark stable; he has a harness put on him and is suddenly brought out into glaring sunlight, which contracts the pupil so suddenly as to cause extreme pain. By persevering in this very foolish and injudicious, a3 well as cruel, practice, the nerve of the eye becomes impaired, and if continued long enough loss of sight will ensue. To see how painful it is to face a bright light after having been ia the dark, take a walk some dark night for a short time till the eyes become used to the darkness, then drop suddenly into some well lighted room, and you will scarcely be able to see a few moments in the sudden light. You know how painful it is to yourself, then why have yocr horses repeatedly bear such unnece3 esaary pain ? asks Field and Farm. ! -