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! -i
J. W. ANDERSON, Editor and Proprietor
THE FUTURE YEARS.
In all die fnturo years, rny sweet
(How roses blossom at tliy feet, .
Ami time fli- s by with footsteps fleet)—
Batin the future years,
What lives for us, or joy or grief ?
A happiness beyond belief,
liiiiflit smiles or bitter fears?
In all the future years, my own,
Shall one of us be left alone,
Missing the other’s loving tone,
Throughout the fulure years?
Or si) all we be together, where
Together we may gladly share
Each other’s hopes and fears ?
Ti c future years—ah ! wlio can say
Which of us two will pass away
From earthly hope and lovo for aye,
From all that Faith endears?
I only breathe a pray’r for thee
That where I am, there thou may’st be
Thro’ all the future years !
Cecil Lobuainf..
j. \. Loye Story.
I The R verend Dr. Melton was just be
fcinning to feel at home in his new par
pounge when he was surprised one even¬
ing to receive a cull from his classmate
Blarvey Imd Leigh. In college days they
been friends, and for a while after
■heir graduation they had exchanged 1
jit [visits tiers and visits; but the letters and
had come to an end long ago, and
jit was many years conversation since they had general met.
I After some on
[matters, Dr. Melton said:
“You have a son. I believe, to per
vhuate the name ?”
‘One son—au ouly child. Morton is
[fwcuty-four, and reading law iu my of¬
fice. A 1-right fellow, too; never gives
hue a moment’s uneasiness; always at
work; steady-going; no boyish nonsense
about, him.”
“And when is your boy ta marry?”
asked the doctor.
“Oh, it is not quite arranged yet.”
“Bo you arrange marriages in Phila¬
delphia? And this particular marriage
is not quite arrauged ? Humph! I
don’t understand that sort of thing. Up
in the country it is, ‘Mary, I love you,’
aud ‘Jack, I love you in return,’ and
then my services are called for. How
does one arrange a marriage in Philadel¬
phia ?”
The touch of sarcasm was quite lost
on Mr. Leigh, who had crossed his legs,
aud sat absorbed iu thought, frowning
at the patent-leather tip of his neat
shoe, nis host watched him until he
uncrossed his legs aud looked up.
“Have you auy daughters, doctor ?”
he asked.
“Two of them.”
“Grown up?”
“I hope so; otherwise they will tower
over my head.”
“And do yon understand them?”
asked Mr. Leigh, with a gravity that
made the parson’s blue eyes twinkle and
the corner of his mouih twitch.
“ Ol), no, I don’t understand them ;
I don’t understand any creature in petti¬
coats ; but my daughters are good
giris, and their mother assures me that
they are remarkably gifted. What do I
want to understand them for ?”
“It might be an advantage under
some circumstances,” Mr. Leigh re¬
marked.
“What is the matter ? What girl do
you tliiuk it might be au advantage to
understand ?”
“ My ward,” answered Mr. Leigh.
“Sho is an orphan, a far-away cousin
of my wife, and she has lived with us
for the past five years. She has a nice
little fortune ; she is pretty ; she is well,
bred-”
“ That goes without saying,” muttered
the [(arson, stroking his long beard.
“But she hasn’t a grain of common
sense.” Mr. Leigh rose, took up a posi¬
tion on the rug, skpped his left hand
under the short tails of his cut-away
coat, and gesticulated with his right as
he warmed to tho story. “ Last sum¬
mer,” he began, “she was twenty-one,
and just out of school. She went to
Cape May with tho Phippards, people
in whom I placed tiie utmost confidence.
I thought she was safe with them ; but
lo and behold ! she must make the
acquaintance of a young gentleman who
held the responsible position of book¬
keeper in one of our large hardwara
shops, a retail concern, and he has sold
many a paper of tacks over the counter.
I was in Europe; eo this interesting
tack-seller ran down to Cape May every
Sunday, and staid until Monday. Then
he had a clerk’s two weeks’ vacation,
ami ho spent that at Cape May. I came
“ <ck iu October, and before I had been
heme twenty-four hours who should call
at the house but t’.i* young man? ne
wanted to me, and I saw him, and
was iufor::, 1 by him ’hat ho had wooed
and won my ward. I asked if he- pro¬
posed to take her to live over tho shop.”
Hr. Leigh’s thin lips curled down¬
ward; he glanced at the parson for sym¬
somewhat pathy, but critical he encountered look. Dr. a steady, Melton j
° f, k the of his mouth and blew I
l pqie out
a cloud of smoke upward through his
mustache. “Wiiv
shouldn’t tlicv live over the
simp ?” he said.
“Oh, you don’t understand,” Mr.
Leigh sel«im-‘ - d, fretfully. “Sho has
I 1 at up in luxury, and she
a havo si ,o idea of what is
nui -vtn: There has been a
Live had ■. Why, I assure you I
the sympathy of all Philadel
paia. This hardware man had the
r
®lie €0Wtt0ton #tax.
effrontery to say that he had money
waid h little fortune. He begged me to
and i
go see his exployers—people I
novcn: I did iio^jyatit dfqpht of-^atiff- tjjeir rec^g|^enda|plMg I toW* him that
I did not propose to hire a
He wits insolent, and I ordered'him out,
Then she blazed away at me, the weak,
infatuated girl. I tried to reason with
her; my wife talked to her; my son—
Well, you see, my son wanted to marry
her too, and he would have made -just
the husband for her, brft she Mat him if
he spoke to her she would ask her hard¬
ware man to protect her. Think of it f
As though Mortou would insult her—
the best-mannered man that ever lived.”
Mr. Leigh had grown excited. His
cigar had gone out, aud he relighted it,
drawing at it iiercely until the end
burned bright like a bit of coal.
“And Morion is very fond of her,”
he continued—'“so fond of her, in fact,
that he is waiting like a hero for this to
blow over. I think the farce is nearly
ended, for the hardware man became
partner the other day in a nail factory
or something of that sort, and a week
ago he sailed for Europe, ne will have
to stay a year, traveling for his tirm,
and when he comes back—” Mr. Leigh
broke off to smile astutely and to drop
the lid over his left eye.
“I don’t exactly understand your ob¬
jections to him,” said Dr. Melton,
slowly. “Does be drink, or keep low
company ?”
“No,” answered Mr. Leigh; “but—’’
“I beg your pardon,” said the doc¬
tor, interrupting him, “but I .want to
speak in his behalf. He must be indus¬
trious, and no fool, and prospering, or
be would not have jumped into this
new position. I confess I don’t think
you have made out a clear case. Of
course you want to see your son happy;
lint if sho does not love your son that
ends the matter - . And if she does love
this other man, and he is honest and
upright, why should he not have her?”
“He is not her, equal,” said Mr.
Leigh. ‘You know in Philadelphia —”
The parson rose up with a stifled ex¬
clamation that, coming from a layman’s
lips, might have sounded profane.
“It is warm in here,” he said, “I
want a little fresh air; I am not used to
a furnace-heated house. Poor girl I
The city has not yet claimed me for its
own, and I miss the fire-place in my old
study. Poor fellow !”
He threw - up the window and looked
out on a wide expanse of tiny high
fenced back yards; but overhead was the
clear sea of sky, where the moon rode
at anchor amid the fleet of stars. He
stood there drawing iu the crisp Decern
her air, until a tap sounded on the door.
•‘Come in,” he cried, and one of his
daughters entered a tali, slim girl with
ner father’s blue eyes.
“Papa,” she said, pressing close to him
and smiling mysteriously, “there aro
some people iu the parknE" * ' stfel
“Drawing-rflota, nfy dear,*’ the
doctor. “Wo are iu Philadelphia.”
“We are not, but no matter,” she re
turned. “I tell you there are some peo¬
ple in thq parlor, and I tkiak it is our
first town wedding. She is very pretty,
aud she has on the loveliest little bonnet
you ever saw. Go marry ’em quick, and
let me be a witness, only they hwve two
witnesses with his them.” about bar ‘j ’/ aud
He passed ‘arm
hissed her, she did not know why; then .
led her to his gjiest. .- ri r ■
“Mollie, this i> a clastinjih^o^siune.
My daughter, Mr. Leigh--Mr. Harvey
Leigh, of Philadelphia. You must, ex¬
cuse mo for a few minutes.”
He went into the adjoining parlor.
Ves, it was a wedding party, no doubt,
but tho would-be bride and groom did
not look like the brides and grooms that
seek out a parson in such a fashion.
The man was a gentleman, with a fine
face and dignified bearing. The girl
was pretty, but more than that, she had
an air of courage, of self-reliance; sho
was not a weak piece of pink and white
flesh. An older couple was with them,
a somewhat frightened middle-aged man
and a very nervous middle-aged woman,
evidently his wife, for the clung to liis
aim helplessly.
“I am William Dunbar," said the
young man. The parson shook hands
with him. “And this,” he added, turn
; U g to the young lady, “is Miss Kate
Terry. We are both of age—in fact, I
thirty-three—and I hope you will
am us.”
;,o good enough to many
Air Duubar was very much in earnest,
but he smiled a little. “Our marriage
i- sudden,” he added, “because I must
rail for Europe
girl. ■ - stele into hor cheeks.
a faint flush
“Where is none,” your home she ?” answeied. he asi^d. “I
“I have have
have neither father nor mother. I
been living in Philadelphia with my
guardiwi. rmrdian ” The words were spoken
softly, but her ej^ flushed “I am free
• -
a °w, has^no ^ “My
l ° right to dictate any
guardian has
5onger ‘ .. C*• nr AMton passing l.is
“Hum . s:<» beard, i Vou from
hand over his are
Philadelphia, too ‘ T
- ■
to ^ r ' D U 'the
! “lam, » „ as ’ cart response.
i “Yotu name sounds familiar,” said
COVINGTON, GEORGIA, JUNE 3, 1885.
[the parson. “Gould I have seen it the
a list of passengers for
Ho soanned the faoes before him.
The man’s jaws clicked, the girl’s flash
-deepencdinto .crieiBop,
“We free to ' paid Mr.
are marry, -
*t)nnbar. “Thens is no reason why we
should not be man and wife. If you
won’t perform tli3 ceremony, I shall
find some one wlio is willing. We have
with us my uncle and aunt; but there is
no use in wasting words. Will you
mArry us?”
“Yes, 1 * said .the parson. Then he
asked a jew formal questions, and mar
■ rfcd^erttadoordihgfto the ritual of tho
Dutch Church. He begged them to be
seated for a minnte, while he filled out
tho certificate. This mude it necessary
for him to return to the study.
“A runuaway country couple ?” said
Mr. Leigh.
“I can’t swear to the country part,"
the parson answered, as he drew a certi
fieute out of his desk.
“I wonder you are willing to perform
tho ceremony,” Mr. Leigh remarked.
“1 should think it was a great risk to
marry runaway couples.”
"The risk is greater without it,” said
the parson. “If I don’t tie the knot
somebody else will, and it is..generally
a satisfaction to one to ,know that tho
knot is tied. In this c»s<\ however, I
am quite snro I am doing right. Do you
believe iu physiognomy ?’’
“To a certain extent, yes.”
“Well, so do I, and I am confident
that 1 have just married a sweet girl to
a man who is worthy of her.”
He went hack to the parlor with tiie
certificate, taking pen and ink, so ilia'
tho witnesses might sign their names.
5!r. Dunbar shook him by tho hand,
leaving a note in his palm. The bride
smiled shyly upon him, and the elderly
woman bowed; but the elderly man,
who so far had not spoken a word, said,
suddenly, “I tell you, sir, that yon will
never regret having helped this mar¬
riage.”
“I don’t believe I could have helped
ii,” said the parson, with a droll glance
at tho new-made husband. “I might
have been tho means of deferring it, but
Mr. Dunbar intends to take his wife to
Europe in spite of a dozen tyrannical
guardians and dozen moro reluctant
clergymen.—God bless you and make
you happy !” he added, taking the young
wife’s hand.
Her eyes filled with tears, but liei
husband drew her hand through his arm
and led her away.
Two carriages were waiting outside,
One went to the north, the other to the
south; but the parson watched the one
([ 1R [ went to the sontb, for in that sat a
man and woman whom ho believed he
| ll( ] made happy for life, eo far as wedded
bliss briDgs happiness,
He returned to the study, gave the
wodding fee to his daughter, who bore it
off in triumph to her mother, aud then
he refilled his pipe.
‘ ‘Does this sort of thing happen often?”
6aid Mr. Leigh.
“Not precisely this sort of thing. The
bride and groom were not girl and boy;
neither did they belong to what you
would call the common class. By-the
way, it was a Phiiadelphia'party, a Wil¬
liam Duubar—”
Mr. Leigh started from the chair
“Dunbar!” ho repeated. “And the
h A?”
“ Kate Perry—Katherine, rather.”
Mr Leigh stafed nt him vacantly. “My
war'd !” he cried, iu sudden anger. “And
after all I told you ! Why didn’t you
oail me in tilers ?”
“ How was I to know that?” said Dr.
Melton. “You never mentioned the
name of your ward or lover. Yon simply
called him the hardware man.”
Mr. Leigh walked out of tiie library,
took his hut and stick, struggled iuto
his overeoatfaniflelt the house without i
vouchsafing another word to liis host.
The parson showed him out, and looked
at him walking swiftly down the moon¬
lit street. When ho wen| tp Jus-study
again he had by no means thei craven
air of a man who has-don&a dastardly
deed. On the contrary, Ire laughed out¬
right as he sat down at jiis desk, where¬
on lay the notes of his sermon.— Har¬
per's Weekly.
Bible Chronology.
) ne of the standing difficulties of
Bihle chronology remarkable has-l*on cleared up
in a very manner. Amid
the ruins of the Chaldean Record Office,
w ijjch formed part of the Temple, a
number of tablets were found. Onex
j min.liou it »•» Ji.co..™! «... the.
and bore the month, year and day of the
^ reigning sovereign. By this f range ,
! order of destiny a complete chronology !
; has been formulated of the Ki oga from .
Nebuchadnezzar to Danus Hydaspes, j
hitherto a most perplexing period to
I Biblical critics. ;
- _
___
No PRicK.-The divorce market in
Indianapolis is thus summarized by a
local tournal: “Brisk competition
among oar local lawyers has brought 1
, th ^ration, rice , of divorces. We quote:
Common $15; small alimony,
$25; large alimony, $50 to $100, accord-!
D g to circumstaneee.” j
FOR SUNDAY READING.
A LEMMON FOR THE SUNDAY SCHOOL
“Obedience.”— Ephesians! Vt», 1—13*
Paul wrote a gTeat deal of “doctrine”
in his epistles, but he also makes his let¬
ters very “practical.” Men will harjiv
live the right lives unless they are in¬
structed in theological truth and made
to understand their relations to Clod,
out of which their duties flow. On .^e
other hand, theological beliefs are good
for nothing, except they influence every¬
day life. A theology which bears no
fruit iu better acts is a barren tree.
Obedience “in the Lord” it un obe¬
dience which comes from the rule of iiie
spirit of the Lord in the heart. The
spirit of Cnrist iu the breast will beget
filial obedience. On the other baud, it
will, of conrse, insure obedience only to
such commands as aro “iu the Lord” or
consonant with religious duty. When a
parent commands something directly
contrary to what the Lord commands,
the spirit of the Lord will prompt a re¬
fusal to comply with the evil command.
The spirit of the Lord will impel us to
obey Christ first, parents uext. Again
to obey parents who are “in the
Lord”—i. e., Christian parents—is pe¬
culiarly a duty; for their oommands
must be supposed to be good and ben¬
eficial.
The command to hoDor parents is ex
alted by having a promiso attached to it*
By a promise for obedience, or a threat¬
ening for tiie disobedient, an injunction
is emphasized. The sanction of a re¬
ward aud penalty shows that God is
especially desirous that the command
shall be obeyed.
On the other hand, parents m.J'c 1 ive
due regard for their children. Children
have rights; and, unkss parents regard
the rights of children, it may be difficult
to lead tho children to perform their
duty toward their parents. If parents
speak to children in auger, the chil¬
dren will be prompted to have angry
feelings in return. The discipline and
admonition given by parents must be
given in the spirit of the Lord, if it is
expected that the children will receive
it in that spirit. Only as our admoni¬
tions are administered in the right
spirit can we expect that they will be
received in the right spirit.
The “servants” addressed were slaves,
and their condition was, in some re¬
spects, worse than the slavery which
formerly disgraced our land. Many of
them were captives in war, or had been
sold for debt, and, being persons of re
finement, could feel deeply the sadness
of their condition, while tiie law gave
them no protection whatever, but a cruel
master could even put them to death,
The injunction of obedience does not
imply that their slavery was just; for a
mother, writing to her son in prison,
though she believed him perfectly inno
oent and his imprisonment entirely un
jnsr. might counsel him to obey the
ru es cf the prison, to do submissively
the hard tasks assigned him, and to
treat respectfully the most abusive of
his keepers. The apostle deals with
slavery simply as a fact, saying nothing
as to its rightfulness.
But he takes away the darkness of
their wretched condition by reminding
them that their service to an earthly
master may be service to Jesus. As he
says iu the parallel passage in Ooios
sians iii. 24: “Ye serve the Lord Christ.”
The faithful servant of a heathen official
might secure an apostle’s release from
prison, and thus secure for the Gospel
a wider extension. By cheerful endur
eiiee of oppression, he might show to a
eruel master that there was a reality in
religion, and so win that master and
others to Christ. The circumstanoes ol
his bondage might enable a disciple to
a work for Christ which no other one
could do. So he conla bear liis slavery
for Christ's sake, aud could even rejoice
in the hard lot which enabled him to do
a work for the one who had redeemed
him. The revelation that service to an
earthly master is service to Christ, gives
an entirely different character to that
bondage. The slave is emancipated, not
by breaking his cbftin, but by enabling
him to wear the chain joyfullv.
The principle laid down is one of gen
eral application, Nearly every person
has much heavy labor and dreary toil to
perform. Tho factory laborer, the
burdened housekeeper, the school
teacher, and even the well-to-do busi
ness man is bound down to ft daily
routine which often becomes luir.len
some and tedious. Bnt, in whatever
position we are placed, cani < om
thing for Cnrist; nay, eac p<M -a giw-^
2i°hZ!L°l tato »□! other
’ ^ gi , uoi;s in the op
^ ut , ? { u h u8 t0 do work
-
«g ua i[ v ” has the sense ot, “for
- le which
* , av dwn ra
"
will cover any case which may arise.
He who is “strong in the Lord,” g:rded
with the Saviour’s mighty power,
ready for anything which may come.
The Christian life is rightly fermeg a
warfare, and the enemies are not the toes
to he feared because they ore not pal
pable. The price of spiritual liberty is
eternal vigilance against evil passions
and powers of sin.
THE NEW CENSUS.
IIow (he Census W ill be Taken and Wlint II
Will l’robably (Show.
The work of faking the State census
of 1885 will begiu May 1. It will be
divided iuto three periods. The enu¬
meration of the population will be com¬
menced promptly on May Day, the
enumerators going a-Maying in search
of statistics. On the 15th of July the
collection of statistics relative to manu¬
factures will begin, and in November the
census of agriculture will be taken.
Bath personal enumeration and the dis¬
tribution of blf.nks will bo resorted to at
different stages of the work. By thus
dividing ap the work two desirable
results are secured—greater accuracy
and prompt tabulation of data. The office
force, trained by the tabulation of people,
will be ready in July to labor the more
rapidly, because the more understand¬
ing^, on the statistics of manufacture,
in which they will ncquiro the experi¬
ence qualifying for the rapid handling of
the collected results of the third and
final division of the census. By taking
the statistics of agriculture in November
the data relating to the crops harvested
in the coming autumn will be secured.
The State censuB coming midway be¬
tween Federal censuses enables Massa¬
chusetts to maintain a closer knowledgo
of its growth and development than is
possible with many other States. Thus
the United States took censuses in 1870
aud 1880, while Massachusetts enumer¬
ated her people aud recorded her manu¬
facturers and agriculture with their out¬
comes iu 1875, aud is now getting ready
for doing the same this year.
Our census of 1885 will thus come
half-way between the Federal census of
1880 and that which the United States
will take iu 1800. Col. Wright says the
census of this year will show Massachu¬
setts to have a population of from
2,000,000 to 2,030,000 souls. In 1875
the State census showed 1,651,919 in¬
habitants, and five years later the Fed¬
eral enumerators found 1,783,085 people
residing iu the old Commonwealth. It
will thus be seen that the State’s popu¬
lation is growing steadily and at a
healthy rate of increase. Assuming that
the actual enumeration this year shows
a population of 2,000,000, the gain in
ten years will be about 348,000. The
increase over 1880 will be nearly 217,
000. The percentage of gain over 1875
will be about 21 per cent, and rather
more than 12 per cent, over 1880. Mas¬
sachusetts is the only one of tho New
England States showing snob a gain,
and she secures it at the expense of the
others. Massachusetts draws on Maine,
New Hampshire and Vermont for her
increase, the tendency of emigration in
the two States south of us being toward
New York.— Boston Transcript.
Forces ol England and Russia.
Russia has more soldiers and more
ships of war than any other country in
the world. In her standing army there
are 780,000 men, and she has 358 ships
in her navy. It costs $125,000,000 a
year to keep her military establishments
on their peace footing, and her military
authorities say they can place 2,300,000
trained men under arms in war time.
The English standing army is 182,000
men. This includes the English regu¬
lar troops serving in India. Tho Eng¬
lish War Office authorities profess to be
able to put 612,000 well-drilled and ef¬
fective British troops in the field it
called on to do so. This does not in¬
clude the Indian auxiliary forces, which
would swell the total British forces at
home and abroad to over 1,000,000 men.
It costs England $90,000,000 a year to
keep up its regular army. In 1853
there were 52,000 Irish soldiers iu the
English army; now there are only 31,
000. Iu 1853 a great number of Irish¬
men from Tipperary, Armagh, Kilkenny,
and other Irish militia regiments volun¬
teered for active service, and were sent
to the Crimea. The English navy con¬
tains 283 ships. But while the Rus¬
sian navy contains more vessels than
the English navy, it must be remem¬
bered that England spends three times
as mudh on her navy as Russia spends
au hers.
The Jlgjptjau Soldiers.
The letters appearing in the English
journals relate, that the Egyptians,
whose courage has been so often
dpnbted, fought like lions on board
those armed river steamers on the Nile;
in fact, .Ih’eW Jfevcr broke down save
once, an dtlnw was when they heard of
the fall and sack of Khartoum, Then
tiieir hearts sank, and even Kashn-el
Mnr and his- ofiiasrs | Vo- ira'e.i them¬
selves on tho Jiun’i 'Aud wept like chil
dren. Tu the de-w-drons retreat from
Gnkdul toriivrii the wounded owed
their lo the' R'ryytiao soldiers,
who carried them every btep wi that
woorv way wiLii yi patienAe, tenderness
and fidelity winch Seemed Lord Wolse
ley’s praise.
Ip twenty -seven inches of snow give
throe inches of w.Oer, how much milk
wifi a given cow yield wneiUed on tur
nir ,? K,T--Mn!toi y t.e nuraher of
snowflakes by ine VM-er-j* halts on
j the cow’s tail, divide the product in the
j jalce 0 f a dry turnip add jo quotient a
| J pound drant. the hy
VOL. XI. NO 29.
MODELS FOR BLACK SILK DRESSES.
Some ol (bo New Sljlfs (bat aro lo be Worn
this Kprlna.
A handsome dress that will serve as a
model for other black silk dresses is of
black Sicilienne, with the front and side
breadths falling quite plain, like panels,
while on each side is a deep pleated fan
with narrow jetted gallons run on the
edge of each pleat; wider galloon bor.
ders the panels. Above this is a short
crossed drapery of the Sicilienne, while
the back hangs long and straight to the
foot. The basque is pointed, short, and
without pleats; a V ol the wide gallons
trims it in front and back, and a large
bow with sash ends falls on the tonrnnre,
being set on the back just below the
waist line. A more elegant black dress
s of Bengaline, with velvet for the vest,
and a single deep fall of black bison lace
gathered under tho short front aud side
drapery, and covering the foundation
skirt. The basque has a narrow vest,
all in one piece of velvet, with a row of
jet buttons each side, and laced across
with silk cord. The high collar has vel¬
vet in front of it tho width of the top of
the vest, and the velvet cuff has lace
laid in folds above it. The Bengaline
drapery is a twisted scarf abovo the
deep lace fall in front, while the back is
in two pointed wiugs that havo three
wide pleated flounces between. Other
black dresses combine watered silk with
a Beugaline over-dress, using it for the
front of the skirt entirely, or else with
merely a front aud back breadth. For
summer there arc very pretty dresses
of black surah, with a fan apron edged
with wide iace, aud some ruffles of lace
or of surah at the foot, or else tho skirt
aud over-skirt are made of strips of
satin and moire, while the basque is of
plain surah; tho latter Is an economical
dress, as it does not require luce for
trimming. Very rich black dresses for
summer are made of China crape em¬
broidered or brocaded for the skirt,
while the over-dress is made of lace,
either entirely of piece lace or else of
lace flounces formed into lengthwise
stripes that alternate with bands of plain
crape or of watered silk. These crape
and lace dresses take the place of the
brocaded grenadines formerly used,
while beaded grenadine is now employed
as parts of combination black dresses.
The beaded grenediue basque and front
breadths aro preferred to the velvet
figured grenediues of last year, and these,
dresses usually have a mantle of the
same to go with them.
Thought He Was Wanted.
A practiced detective can frequency
discern at a glance that a man is a
rogue. The stamp of dishonesty on his
features, or his anxiety on being ob¬
served, tells the story. A remarkable
illustration of this fact was narrated by
the Boston correspondent of the JSing
ham Journal a year [or two ago. The
detective was Constable Derastns Clapp,
the successor of “Old Reed,” a famous
rogue-catcher of Boston half a century
ago, who was for forty years the terror
of evil-doers in aud about the New Eng
land metropolis.
Clapp was a shrewd man and a most
excellent judge of human nature. He
could tell a rogue as far off as he could
tell a black man, and he never made
mistakes. His “come along with me”
was imperative and admitted of no argu¬
ment.
An instance of his readiness in read¬
ing character occurred one morning in
the upper criminal court. A case ol
considerable interest was being tried,
and the gallery was crowded with spec¬
tators.
Two or three reporters were sitting
near the door, when Clapp stooping over,
whispered:
“Don’t all look at once, but please
observe that nice-looking man with the
white cravat, in the front middle seat
of the gallery.
We looked. “Now,” says Clapp, “I’ll
bet that I can set that man traveling out
of the court house on the double-quick
in less than five minutes nor will 1 leave
the room or send him any message. ”
While we were wondering how the
feat was to be accomplished, the veteran
quietly beckoned to Officer Taiiant,
and taking a pair of handcuffs from his
pocket, directed that officer's attention
to the party iu tho gallery, and appar¬
ently gave him some directions.
Tallaut opened tiie door and stepped
into the entry, and at. the same instant
t’ne gentleman with the white cravat
bolted like lightning through the crowd
to the door, and disappeared.
“Gentleman,” remarked Clapp, “I
never saw that man before in my life.
It illustrates the scriptural saying. ‘The
wicked flee when no mac pursueth. » If
The annual report of the Ohio Agri¬
cultural Experiment Station urges the
preservation and maintenance of forests,
and says this concerning woodlands:
“The first step should be to remove ail
worthless varieties, and to encourage
the valuable sorts to take their place.
Stock should not be allowed to run in
wood lots for purpose of forage; there
should be a careful guard against fire;
seeds should be planted in vacant places
of such varieties as arc most desirable;
i shoots of inferior varieties should be
EO pt down, and valuable sorts should
j be trimmed up, so that they may ' grow
I 1 • all, forming truuk rather -k&i
briiiiciioa. , ”
t
JOKES FOUND ASTRAY.
HUMOROUS NOT KM FOUND IN THE
COLUMNS OF OUR EXCHANGES.
A Tramp who Eat Gross —4 Teethlna
Child —.4 Itiifitdnn War Song—Tho At*
torue?’s Joke* Ktc., Etc*
EATING a BASS.
It was one of those bitter cold nights
that the oldest settler always remembers
and insists on bringing up when any¬
thing is said about the desire of the mer¬
cury to hide itself in the bulb, and the
wind whistled an air from Wagnor as it
tore through the trees. Yet out in the
cold night, before a cottage door, stood
a trembling figure. He softly knocked,
aud in a moment the door was opened
and a kind face appeared, while a gentle
woman’s voice asked: “What is it, my
poor man ?” “Madam,” said the figure,
“all I ask is to brush away the snow
herein front of the house and eat some
of the grass.” “No, my poor man,”
answered the gentlo voice. ‘ ‘Though I
am a woman I still have a heart. Do
not eat that grass. Go round to tho
back of the cottage and you will find
some that is much more nourishing.”
And the kind form disappeared, tho
door was closed and the wind whistled
another Wagnerian air .—Boston Post.
A CLEAR CASE OP LIBEL.
Brown (to lawyer)—“Smith called me
a fool jackass in the presence of wit¬
nesses. Isn’t that remark actionable ?”
Lawyer—“Yes, it is libollous, cer¬
tainly. Did he say anything else ?”
Brown (anxiously)— “He said he could
prove it. ”
Lawyer—“That won’t make any differ¬
ence.”
Brown (relieved)—“All right, if you
are sure of that. Go ahead and sue him
for $500.”
A RUSSIAN WAR SONO.
We’ro coming, Alcxandrovitch, at least a mil
, lion more,
From Kauineshaeja’s bay and Obskulagouba’a
shore.
From Karakonskio’s frozen wild from Tyms
kala’s [(lain,
We’ro marching Alexander, with all our might
and main.
From GatmonseUino’s forest, from Tsehcrbor
beskoi’s vale,
From Watsiagourbska's blooming fields, from
Olymekia’s dale,
FromKakaimijosa's villages, from Jledonscbar
sUi’s isle,
Wo’re coming Alexander, the weary rank and
file.
From polysyllable villagos we’ro marching gay
ly down,
Perchance to rot in Afghanland to gild anew
your crown,
We're on to Berg-el-Murghab, and renjschid
yeh we seek,
And we’re headed by some generals whose
names no tongues can speak.
From provinces and villages whose names be¬
fore the eye
Look like a heap of consonants shoveled into
“pi.”
We-arolows and off-skies, -effs and offs and
vitohes,
For Holy Church and Pious Czar will di6 in
Herat’s ditches.
AN ASSENTING WITNESS.
Justice (colored)—“When I said dat
; de mau wasn’t straight what did you
say?”
Witness—“I said dat’s so.”
Justice—“Aud when I said dat do
man was crocked what did you say ?”
Witness—“I said dat’s so.”
Justice—“And when I Baid dat de
mau wasn’t upright what did you say ?”
Witness—“I said dat’s so.”
Justice—“And now you swear you
didn’t say de mau wasn’t honest ?”
Witness—No more I did. I fought
yon referred to de rumatics de man
had.”— New York Advertiser.
THE LAWYER'S JOKE.
An Augusta (Mo.) lawyer relates this
story of Henry W. Paine: He was pro¬
secuting attorney in a criminal case.
The evidence plainly showed that the
respondent was guilty, and the defence
admitted it. The respondent’s counsel
asked for a verdict of not guilty on the
ground that the defendant was non
compos mentis. Greaily to the surprise
of Paine—and everybody else, for that
matter—the jury came in with a verdict
of not guilty. Paine on the instant
turned to the presiding jndge and said:
“Your Honor, (the prisoner evidently
has been tried by a jury of his peers.”
Mm
A COMING EVENT
Wife—Old Mrs. Bentley told me con¬
fidentially this morning that she ex¬
pected shortly to become a grandmother.
Husband (absent-minded)—Is it pos¬
sible ! Tiiat old woman.— Ncw\Orlcana
Times.
GREATEST KIND OF AN INSULT.
Alice—“Isn't that queer? This book
of travels says tho worst insult that oan
be offered to a Russian maiden ts to
spread tar on the front gate “er resi¬
dence.”
Maud—“1 should thto^** would be An
insuit.”
“But why? Oh, you mean it is a
personal reflection. ”
‘•No; it probably means that she can’t
get a bean, and has no use for the front
gate. ”— Pldtndelph ia Call.
CAM? STROM A CHILLY CLIME.
“How nice and warm it is here in
Chicago!'’ remaAtcd a traveler at. the
I Wert Side Station, yesterday, “Where
J I agreeable came from that it I was pulled so up chin} stakes an- and.lit dis
j j cut for home.”
“Where do you hail from—Canada ?" ^
I . ‘No; Washington. Chicago Utrali.
