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VOL. XI.
ISTEAV BLOOMFIELD, I3., TUESDAY, AUGUST 28, 18TT.
NO. 34.
THE TIMES.
Am Independent family Newspaper,
18 PUBLISHED BVEIIT TCESDAT BT
F. MORTIMER & CO.
Subscription Price.
Within til County 11 25
" " " Six months 75
Out of the County, Including postage, 150
" " . " six months " 85
Invariably In Advance I -
-Advertising rates furnished upon appli
cation. $eledt Poeti'v.
LIVE FOR SOMETHING.
Live for something ; be not Idle,
Look about you for employ (
Sit not down to useless dreaming
Labor is the sweoteet Joy.
Folded hands are ever weary,
Selfish beurts are never gay,
Life for you has many duties
Active be, then, while you may.
Scatter blessings in your pathway,
Gentle words and cheerful smiles
Better are than gold and silver,
With their grief-dispelling wiles.
As the bleB?ed sunshine fallcth
Ever on the grateful earth,
6o let sympathy and kindness
Gladden well the darkened earth.
Hearts that are" oppressed and weary,
Drop the tear of sympathy
Whisper words of hope and comfort,
Give and your reward shall be
Joy unto thy soul returning
From this perfect fountain-head,
Freely, as thou freely glvest
Shall the grateful light be shed.
THE CLERK'S CHOICE.
MR. JOHN SOMERS was a mer
chant, doing business In a thriv
ing country village. He had two clerks
In his employ, both of them faithful
and industrious, but with somedlfl'erence
in minor points of character.
One day Mr. Bomers called the two
young men into his counting-room and
closed the door after them. His coun
tenance looked troubled, and it was some
moments before he spoke.
" Boys," he said, at length, " I have
been doing a very foolish thing. I have
lent my name to those I thought my
friends, and they have ruined me. I
owe you about a hundred dollars each.
Now I have just one hundred dollars in
money, and the small piece of land on
the side of the hill just back of the town
house. There are four acres of this
laud, and I have been offered a hundred
dollars for it, repeatedly, by those who
have land adjolniug. If I could pay
you both in money I would, but as I
CR-unot, one of you must take this land.
What say you t You, Walter, have
been with me the longest, and you shall
eay first."
Walter Sturgis hesitated some mo
ments, and he said :
" I'm sure I don't want the land, un
less I could sell it right off."
" Ah, but that won't do," returned
Mr. Bomers. " If you take the land
you must keep it. Were you to sell
it, my creditors would say at once that
you did it for me, and I pocketed the
money."
" Then it is easily settled," rejoined
Peter, " for I should prefer the land."
Walter was pleased with this, and be
fore night he bad the hundred-dollar bill
in his pocket, and Teter had the war
ran tee deed of the four acres of land
upon the hillside.
Tcter White's first object, after having
got the deed of his land, was to hunt up
some kind of work. A whole week he
searched in vain for employment, but at
the end of that time he found an old
farmer who wanted a hand, though he
could not afl'ord to pay much. But Peter,
finally, and with the advice of Mr.
Somers, made an arrangement of this
kind : He would work for the old farm
er ( Mr. Stevens ) steadily until the
ground was open, and then he should
have half the time to devote upon his
own land, and, in part payment for his
servl6es, Stevens was to help him about
all the ox work that the youth might
need.
Peter now worked early and late, and
much of the time he had help. The
first thing he planted was about a quar
ter of an acre of watermelons. He then
got In some early garden sauce such as
potatoes, sweet corn, peas, beans, rad
ishes, cucumbers, tomatoes and so on.
And he got his whoU; piece worked up
and planted before Stevens' farm was
free from snow.
He then planted an acre of corn, an
acre of potatoes and the rest he hnd
divided among all sorts of produce.
Then he went to work for Stevens again,
and in a few weeks he had more than
paid for all the labor he had been obliged
to hire on his own land.
In the meantime, again, Walter
Sturgis had been looking after employ
ment. His hundred dollars were used
and he accepted a place in the village, at
a salary of three hundred dollars a year.
Peter used to be invited to all the little
parties, when he was clerk, but he was
not Invited now. Walter Sturgis went
to these parties, and he was highly
edified by them. When Pater was a
clerk, there were several handsome
damsels who loved to bask in the sun
light of his smiles, and one of them he
fancied he loved. After he had got his
hillside planted, he went to see Cordelia
Henderson, and he asked her if she
would become his wife at some future
period when he was prepared to take
such an article to his home. Three
days afterward he received a letter from
her, in which she stated that she could
not think of uniting her destinies with
a man who could only delve in the earth
for a livelihood. Peter Bhed a few tears
over the unexpected note, and finally
blessed his fate, for he was sure that
such a girl was not what he needed for
a wife.
On the first of the next November he
had cleared seven hundred dollars for the
season over and above expenses.
One morning after the crops were all
in Peter found a man walking about
over the land, and as the young man
came up the stranger asked him who
owned the hillside.
" It-is mine, sir," replied Peter.
The man looked about, and then went
away, and the next day he came with
two others. They looked over the place,
and they seemed to be dividing it oft' into
small lots. They remained about an
hour and then went away.
On the next morning Peter went out
upon his land, and as he reached the
upper boundary and turned and looked
down, the truth flashed upon him. His
hillside had a gentle, easy slope, and the
view from any part of it was delightful.
A brook ran down through it, from nn
exhaustless spring up in the ledge, and
the locality would be cool and agreeable
in summer and warm in wlnffer. At the
foot of the hill, to the left, lay a small
lake, while the river ran in sight for
several miles."
"Of course," soliloquized Peter "they
think this would make beautiful build
ing spots. And wouldn't it V Curious
that I never thought of it before. And
then when the railroad comes here,
people from the city want their dwell
ings here. But this laud is valuable.
It is worth let me Bee say six hundred
dollars a year. I can easily get eight
or nine hundred for what I can raise
here, and I know that two hundred
dollars will pay me a good round price
for all the labor I perform on it. And
then when my peach trees grow up, and
my strawberry beds increase ho it's
more valuable to me than it could be to
any one else."
When Peter went home, he could not
resist temptation to Bit down and calcu
late how many house lots his land would
make ; and he found that his hillside
would afford fifty building spots, with a
good garden to each one. But he didn't
think of Belling.
Two days afterward, six men came to
look at the land, and after traveling over
it, and sticking up some stakes, they
went away. That evening Peter went
down to the hotel, and the first thing he
heard was :
" Aha, Pete, you've missed it."
" How so V" asked Pete.
" Why, how much did you get for
your hillside V"
" What do you mean V"
Haven't you sold HV"
"No, sir."
" Why, there was a man here looking
at it a week or bo ago, and to-day he
came and brought five city merchants
with him, and I can take my oath, that
each one of them engaged a building lot
of htm. One of 'em spoke to me about
what a lovely spot it was ; and I told
him nobody would have thought of
building there till you got the rocks ofi".
But haven't you sold It, though ?"
" No, not an Inch of it."
" Why, that man told me he had en
gaged to pay four hundred dollars for a
choice lot of twelve square rods."
" Then he will find his lot somewhere
else, I guess, till I sell out."
Some more conversation was held,and
then Peter went home. On the follow
ing forenoon, the very man who had
been the first to come and look at the
hillside, called to see Peter, introducing
himself as Mr. Anderson,
" Let's see I believe you own some
two or three acres of land, up here on
the hillside," he said, very carelessly.
' I own four acres there," said Peter,
very exuetly.
1 Ah, yes well; it doesn't make much
difference. I didn't notice particularly
how much there was. I thought I should
like to build there, and if you would sell
me land reasonable, I might like to pur
chase. It would be enough to afford me
quite a garden ; though I suppose it
would cost about as much to till such
land as the produce would be worth."
" That would depend upon how you
worked it," said Peter, dryly.
"Oh, yes, I suppose. But you are
willing to sell out, I suppose "
" Certainly."
The man's eyes began to brighten.
" How much should you want for it ?"
he asked.
"Well, I don't know. What could
you afl'ord to pay "
" Why, I suppose I could afl'ord to pay
a great deal more than It Is worth. Rath
er than not get It I would pay well,say
two hundred dollars, or two hundred
and fifty at the outside."
" I don't think there Is much use of
our talking, sir."
" But you paid one hundred, only, if
I mistake not."
" I had my choice between one hun
dred dollars and the land, and I took
the latter. But as you seem to labor In
the dark, I will explain to you. In the
first place, there Is not another,spot of
land in this section of the country, that
possesses the natural advantages which
this ondoes. I can have my early peas
and vines up and hoed before my
neighbors get their ground plowed ; so I
have my early sauce in tho market
ahead of all others, save a few hot-house
owners whose plants cannot compare
with mine foi strength and size. Then
my soil is very rich, and yields fifty per
cent, more than most other land. Now
look at this : During the last season I
have realized over eight hundred dollars
from this land, and next season I can
get much more than that, for my straw
berry vines are flourishing finely. There
are not any two farms in this town that
can possibly be made to realize so much
money as my hillside, for you see It is
the time of my produce, and not quan
tity, that does the business. A bushel
of my early peas on the twenty-second
day of May, is worth ten times as much
as my neighbor's bushel on the first of
July and August. Two hundred dollars
will more than pay me for my time and
trouble in attending to my land ; so,you
see I have this year over six hundred
dollars Interest."
" Then you wouldn't sell for less than
six hundred dollars, I suppose?" said
Mr. Anderson, carefully.
" Would you sell out a concern that
was yleldlng.you a net profit of six hun
dred dollars a year, for that sum, sir 1"
asked Peter.
" A-heni well ah you put It rather
curiously."
"Then I'll put it plainly. You may
have the hillside for ten thousand dol
lars."
Mr. Anderson laughed ; but he found
that Peter was In earnest, and he com
menced to curse and swear. At this
Peter simply turned and left his custom
er to minseir and he saw nothing more
of the speculator.
Two days afterward, however, one of
the merchants came to see our hero, and
when they had heard his simple story,
they were ready to do justly by him.
The merchant went first to the man
who owned the land above Peter's in.
eluding the ledge and the spring, and he
agreed to sell for two hundred dollars.
This, to builders, was a great bargain,
for the stone of the ledge was excellent
granite. Then they called a surveyor
and made a plot of the hillside, whereby
they found that they could have forty
building lots, worth from two hundred
and fifty to four hundred dollars each
They hesitated not a moment after the
plot was made, but paid Peter his ten
thousand dollars cheerfully.
Ere many days after this transaction
Peter White received a very polite nate
from Cordelia Henderson, asking him to
call and see her ; but he did not call. He
hunted p Mr. Somers, and went i-ato
business with him, and this very day
Somers & White do business in the town,
and Walter Sturgis is their bookkeeper.
And In all the country there Is not a
prettier spot than the old hillside. The
railroad depot is near its foot, and- it Is
occupied by sumptuous dwellings, in
which live merchants who do business
in the adjacent city.
One thing Peter missed that he did
not reserve a building spot for himself.
But his usual good fortune attended him,
even here. A wealthy banker had oc
casion to move to another section of the
country, and he sold out his howse and
garden to Peter, for just one-half what
the building cost him. So Peter took a
wife who had loved him when he dug In
the earth, and found a home for her and
himself upon the hillside.
And now, reader, where do you think
the hillside Is V Perhaps you know ; for
it is a veritable history I have been
writing, and the place I have told you
about is now one of the most select sub
urban residences In the country.
A SIGNIFICANT ADVERTISEMENT.
DURINO the past month the follow
ing advertisement has appeared In
a morning newspaper in Philadelphia:
A L ADY WILL TAKR ABM ALL CHILD TO
board. Apply for one week at 1338 Bancroft
street, between Sixteenth and Seventeenth and
below Wharton. Cut this out.
Bancroft street is a short street be
tween Sixteenth and Seventeenth and
runs from Wharton to Reed street. The
West side of the street is lined with or
dinary two-story brick houses, looking
out oa vacant lots covered with rank
vegetation. No. 1338 is only distinguish
able from the others by having a small
tin sign on the window sill, on which
are painted the words : " Small children
taken to board." The shutters are al
ways kept closed. The Inmates rarely
appear on the streets and are only seen
by the neighbors when a carriage is
driven to the door with a baby within.
It is then that Annie, alias Alice For
syth, alias Williams, alias Brennon,alias
Marshall, a medium sized woman, rather
angular and about 28 years old, steps out
to take the little one Into the house. A
sister of Forsyth's named Ida, about lft
or 18 years old, opens and closes the door,
and she 1b also seen when the under
taker calls for the baby's body. These
people have resided at 1338 Bancroft
street for about six weeks, and In that
time, it is said, five infants have been
buried and two have mysteriously dis
appeared. They claim to nave eome
from Easton.
It has been within the past week or
two that the attention of the neighbors
has been drawn to them. Two children
were burled from the house the first two
weeks they were there. This, followed
by two more, both in one week, and the
taking away of a fifth one on last Satur
day week by hack 128, under suspicious
circumstances, aroused the neighbors'
curiosity. The last child was wrapped
in a lot of rags, and the woman For
syth made a quasi-admissiori that it was
dead. It had been taken to the house
but a week or so previous, and -was no
ticed to be a bright, healthy child. An
old woman by the name of Kenny or
Canning, a midwife and nurse, who is
supposed to live at 1703 Tasker street, al
though a frightened-looking girl stutter
ed and stammered while she denied It to
a " Times" representative, is said to fur
nish the Forsyths with a majority of
their babies.
She has been seen to enter there and
also 1703 Tasker street a number of
times. When the undertaker a very
reputable man, who has had his office
on South Thirteenth street, called at the
Forsyths to make preparations for the
burial of one of .the children, he met the
woman Kenny or Canning, who Bald
the child's , name was Minnie Martin
and she also gave the name of the
mother.
The name of McAllister was given. as
that of one of the babies. The last
burial, a week ago, was that) of, the
Martin child. The Fbrsyths- told one of
the neighbors that Mie name of another
of the children was either Nicholson- or
Oodey. For its keep they got $ 2o( with
a promise of more.. For another child
they said they had received $125.
A handsome piano was removed to a
Chestnut street store from their houses
They claimed It was given them for tak
ing care of a child. The handsome -Brussels
carpet and furniture that adorn
the rooms of the house are, according to
their admission, presents received, for
caring for a'notheirchild.
When spoken to.en the subject of their
calling, they answered that they have
always made their " living that way
and it was none of anybody's- business."
There are but two-children la the- house
now, a boy about ten. weeks old. aad a
girl about eighteen months okh They
were taken there a short time ogo and
were apparently strong and heantry. A
lady who saw them said that they had
dwindled away to be mere skeletons,and
have every appearance of being slowly
starved or drugged to death. They oc
cupied the same cot and paid, aoatten
tion to the caresses bestowed, on them by
the visitor. She said " it is a terrible
shame that sweh a state of affairs can
exist In a large city. The Sooiety for
the Prevention of Cruelty to- Children
were notified some time ago of the baby
farming carried on in the hov6e,.but no
action has yet been taken in the mat
ter." The children are but scantiliy clothed
and bear evidence of neglect. Almost
every day a carriage rolls up bo the door.
Last week a wagon, containing, a man
and. woman, the latter with a. child In
her arms, stopped at the house, but
probably no satisfactory arrangement
could be made for the care of. the little
one, as they drove off.
It Is understood that the- Society for
the Prevention of Cruelty to. Children
proposes taking the matten in hand.
-r .
Discontent.
Said Freeman Hunt, many years ago,
a no omeruuy x bmjou Dy a cooper WHO
was playing a merry tune with his
ad as around a cask. ' Alt,!' said he, '
'mine is a hard lot forever trotting f
round like a dog, driving away at a
hoop.' Heigbol' sighed our neighbor, '
the blacksmith, in ona-of the hot days, '
as he wiped the drops of perspiration
from his brow, while- his red-rot iron
glowed on the anvil, this is life with a
vengeance, melting and frying one's,
self over the fire.' ' Dh that I were a.
carpenter,' ejaculated a shoemaker,as ha
bent over his lap-stone ; ' here I am, day
after day, working my soul away In,
making soles for others, ' cooped up in,
this little seven by nine room.' 'Iam.
sick of this out-door work,' exclaiais
the carpenter, broiling and sweating
under the sun, or exposed to the In
clemency of th weather If I were only'
a tailor I ' ' Thte is too bad j ' perpetual
ly cries the tailor, ' to be compelled to sit
perched up here, plying my needle
would that mine was a more active
life I ' 'Last day of grace the? banks
won't discount customers won't pay
what shall I do'i" grumbles the mer
chant ; I had rather be a dray horse a
dog anything!' 'Happy fellows!"
groans th lawyer, as he scratches hi
head over some perplexing case, or pores,
over some dry record' happy fellows!.
I had rather hammer stone than cudgel
my brain on this tedious, vexatious
question.' And through all. the rauilfir
cations of society, all complaining of
their condition finding; fault witfc their
particular calling. 4 If I were only this,
or that or the other, J, should be con,-,
tent,' is the universal cry1 anything
but what I am.' So wajjs the world, su
it has wagged, and so it will wag."
CiT It la with glory as with beauty ;
for as a single fine lineament cttot
make a handsome face, neither ca,n, a
single good quality reader a ma accom
plished ; but a concurrence of many fine,
features and good qualities, make true
beauty and true hojaox.
. 3JNature makes us poor only when
we want nees&iaries, but custom gives
the name of poverty to the want of su,
perfluitltsv