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rmm migmwat cow. IWbnStet hl4* >u Snaky brown. Bar body waa laaa and bar sack waa a tm; Ona ban tnrsad ip an* tha otbar turned dawn. Ska was keen of Palos and lone of Umk; With a Baaun noaa and a abort etnmp tail. And riba like tha koopa an a homo made paiL Kenya Bark did bar body bear; Ska had bean a tercet for all tklsc* known ; On many a aoar the duaky hair Would row na morn where It once bad grown; Many a paaalontta, parting ehot ■ad left npan bar a laaUng apot Many and many a well-aimed atom Many a brickbat of goodly alao, And many a cudgel ewlftly thrown, Had brought tha tear* to bar loving eyee. Or had bounded off from her bony back, With a noiee like the aound of a rifle crack. Many a day bad aha panned in the pound For helping baraelf to bar neighbor's corn; Many a cowardly our and hound Had been transfixed on her crumpled horn; Many a teapot and old tin pall Had tha farmer boya tied to her time-worn tail Old Damson Gray waa a piona man, Though aometlmea tempted to be profane. When many a weary mile ha ran To drive her out of hie growing grain. Sharp were tha pianka ahe uaed to play To get her All and to got away. She knew when the deaoon went to town; •he wiaely watched him when he went by; He never paeeed her without a frown And an evil fiance in each angry eye; Ha would crack hie whip in a surly way. And drive along in hla “ one-hoes •hay.” Then at hla homestead aha loved to call, .Lifting hla bars with crumpled horn i Nimbly acallng hla garden wall. Helping herself to hie standing corn; Sating hla cabbages, ona by one; Hurrying home when bar work waa dene. Hie human pasaiona ware qulok to rise, And striding forth with a aavaga cry, With fury blazing from both hla eyes, Aa lightnings flash in tha summer aky, Redder and redder his face would grow, And after the creature he would go. Over the garden, round and round, Breaking his psar and appla trees; Tramping bis melons Into tha ground, Overturning hie hives of beet; Leaving him angry and badly stung, Wishing tha old oow’a neck waa wrung. Tha mosses grew on the garden wall; The years want by with their work and play; The boya of the village grew strong end tall, And tha gray-haired farmers passed away. Ona by ona tha red leaves fall, But tha highway eow outlived them aIL THE HANDSOME ARTIST. Grteme McDonald was a young High lander come to Florence to study the old masters. He was an athletic, whole some, handsome fellow. He painted in the palace or wiped his forehead on a warm day with equally small care, to all appearance, and he had brought his mother and two sisters to Italy, and sup ported them by a most heroic economy and industry. Indeed, the more I knew McDonald, the more I became convinced that there was another man built over him. Perhaps you have been in Florence, dear reader, and know by what royal liberality artists are permitted to bring their easels into the splendid apartments of the palace and copy from the price less pictures on the walls. At the time I have my eye upon (some few years ago) McDonald was making a beginning of a copy ofj“ Titian’s Belts, '! and nsr him stood the easel of a female artist who was copying from the glorious pic ture of “Judith and Holofernes,” in the same apartment. Mademoiselle Folia (so she was called by the elderly lady who glways accompanied her) was a small and very gracefully-formed creat ure, with the plainest face in which at traction could possibly reside. McDon ald was her nearest neighbor, and they frequently looked over each other’s pic tures ; but, as they were both foreign ers in Florence (she of Polish birth, as he understood) their conversation was in French or Italian, neither of which lan guages were fluently familiar to Graeme, and it was limited generally to expres sions of courtesy or brief criticisms of each other’s labors. As I said before, it was a “proof im pression ” of a celestial summer’s morn ing, and the thermometer stood at heav- Bnly idleness. McDonald stood with his maul-stick across his knees, drinking from Titian’s picture. An artist, who had lounged in from the next room, had hung himself by the crook of his arm over a high peg, on his comrade’s easel, and every now and then he volunteered an observation to which he expected no particular answer. “ When I remember how little beauty I have seen in the world,” said Ingarde (this artist), “I am inclined to believe with Satuminus that there is no resur rection of bodies, and that only the spirits of the good return into the body of the Godhead—for what is ugliness to do in heaven?” McDonald only said: “ Hm—hm !” How will this little plain woman look in the streets of the New Jerusalem, for example? Yet she expects, as we all do, to be recognizable by her friends in heaven, and, of course, to have the same irredeemably-plain face. Does she un derstand English, by the way—for she might not be altogether pleased with my theory ?” “I have spoken to her very often,” said McDonald, “and I think English is Hebrew to her; but my theory of beauty crosses at least one comer of your- argument, my friend ! I believe that the original type of every human being could be made beautiful without in any essential particular destroying the visible identity.” “ And you think that little woman’s face could be made beautiful ?” “I know it” “ Try it, then. Here is your copy of Titian’s ‘ Bella,’ all finished but the face. Make an apothesis portrait of your neighbor, and, while it harmonizes with the body of Titian’s beauty, still leave it recognizable as the portrait, and I’ll give in to your theories—believing in all other miracles, if yon like, at the same time 1” Ingarde laughed, as he went back to his own picture, aiM McDonald, after sitting a few minutes lost in reverie, turned his easel so as to get a painter’s Tiew of his female neighbor. He thought ELLIJ AY IQ! COURIER. w. jr. COMBS! XMitor and Poblieher. f she colored slightly as he fixed his eyes upon her; but, if so, she apparently became very soon unconscious of his gaze, and he was soon absorbed himself in the task to which his friend had so mockingly challenged him. r Excuse me, dear reader, while with two epistles I build a bridge over which you can cross a chasm of a month in my story.] To Gitas mr McDonald — Sir: I am intrusted with a delicate commission, which I knew not how to broach to you except by simple proposal. Will you forgive my abrupt levity, if I inform yon, without further preface, that the Countess Nyschriem, a Polish lady of high birth and ample fortune, does yon the honor to propose for your hand. If you are disengaged and your affections are not irrevocably given to another, I can conceive no sufficient obstacle to your acceptance of the brilliant connec tion. The Countess is 22, and not beau tiful, it qiust in fairness be said; bnt she has high qualities both of head and heart, and is worthy any man’s respect and affection. An answer is requested in the course of to-morrow, addressed to “The Count Hanswald, Minister of His Majesty the King of Prussia.” I have the honor, etc., etc. Hanswald. McDonald’s answer was as follows: To HU Excellency, Hanswald, etc., etc. You will pardon me that I have taken two days to consider the extraordinary proposition made me in your letter. The subject, since it is to be entertained a moment, requires, perhaps, still further reflection—but my reply shall be definite and as prompt as I can bring myself to be in a matter so important. My first impulse was to return your letter, declining the honor you would do me, and thanking the lady for the com pliment of her choice. My first reflec tion was the relief and happiness which an independence would bring to a moth er and two sisters-dependent new on the precarious profits of my pencil. And I first consented to ponder the matter with this view, and I now consent to marry (frankly) for this advantage. But still I have a condition to propose. In the studies I have had the oppor tunity to make of the happiness of im aginative men in matrimony I have ob served thatitheir two worlds of’ fact and fancy were Seldom Under the, Viitiol oV one mistress. It must be a very extraor dinary woman, of course, who, with the sweet domestio qualities needed for com mon life, possesses at the same time the elevation and spirituality neoessary for the ideal of the poet and painter. And lam not certain, in any case, whether the romance of some secret passion, fed and pursued in the imagination only, be not the inseparable necessity of a poetic nature. For the imagination is incapa ble of being chained, and ft is at once disenchanted and set roaming by the very position and certainty which are the charms of matrimony. Whether ex clusive devotion of all the faculties of mind and body be the fidelity exacted in marriage is a question every woman should consider before making a hus band of an imaginative man. As I have not seen the Countess I oan generalize on the subject without offense; and she is the best judge whether she can chain my fancy as well as my affections, or yield to an imaginative mistress the de votion of so predominant a quality of my nature. I can only promise her the constancy of a husband. This inevitable license is allowed—my ideal world and its devotions, that, is to say, left entirely to myself—l am ready to accept the honor of the Countess’ hand. Your Excellency may command, my time and presence. With high consid eration, etc., Graume McDonald. Rather agitated than surprised seemed Mile. Folie when, the next day, as she arranged her brushes upon the shell of her easel, her handsome neighbor com menced, in the most fluent Italian he conld command, to invite her to his wedding. Very much surprised was McDonald when Bhe interrupted him in English, and begged him to use his na tive tongue, as madame, her attendant, would not then understand him. He went on delightedly in his own honest language, and explained to her his imaginative ad miration, though he felt compunctious, somewhat, that so unreal a sentiment should bring the visible blood to her cheek. She thanked him—drew the cloth from the upper part of her own picture and Bhowed him an admirable portrait of his handsome features, sub stituted for the masculine head of Ju dith, in the original from which she copied—and promised to be at his wed ding, and to listen sharply for her mur mured name in his vow at the altar. He chanced to wear at the moment a ring of red cornelian, and he agreed with br that she should stand where he could see her, and at the moment of his putting the marriage ring upon his bride’s fin ger that she should put on this, as a to ken of having received his spiritual vows of devotion. The day came, and the splendid equi page of the Countess dashed into the square of the Santa Maria, with a veiled bride and a cold bridegroom, and depos ited them at the steps of the church. As ' they were followed by other coroneted ELUJAY, GA„ THURSDAY, AUGUST 18, 1881, equipages, and gayly-dressed people dismounted from each—the mother and sisters of the bridegroom, gayly dressed, among them, but looking pale with in certitude and dread. The veiled bride was small, but she mowed gracefully up the aisle, and met her fntore husband at the altar, with a low courtesy, and msde a sign to the priest to proceed with the ceremony. MaDonald was colorless, but firm, and, indeed, showed bnt little interest, ex cept by an anxious look now and then among the crowd of spectators at the sides of the altar. He pronounced his vows with a steady voice, bnt, when the ring was to be put on, he looked around for an instant, and then suddenly, and to the great scandal of all present, clasped his bride with a passionate ejacu lation to his bosom. The cornelian ring was on her finger—and the Count-, ess Nyschriem and Mademoiselle Folie —his bride and his fancy queen—were one I This curious event happened in Flor ence some years since—as all people then there will remember—and it was prophesied of the Countess that she would have but a short lease of her handsome and gay husband. Bnt time does not say so. A more constant hus band than McDonald to his plain and titled wife, and one more continuously in love, does not travel and buy pictures and patronize artists—though few, ex cept yourself, dear reader, know the philosophy of it. JUDGED BY HIS SCHOOLMATES. A custom which is unique among the schools of the country has been ob served, with the best results, for twenty five years at the Chauncey Hall School of Boston. It is described as follows by the Advertiser : • “ It is a vote by the boys and girls of the school for the best boy in school. No conditions are imposed, save as they are implied in the explanation which is given to acquaint the young people with the purpose of those who established the practice. “ Each pupil is free to vote for any of ’ the school who has beem a member for any length of time, except since Dec. 1 last. It has been the custom to select a boy from the oldest class, but it is not compulsory sto do so. “ Former members of the school, not all of the same class, but'lntimate friends there, believing that a prize given on the principles they propound would help in developing a manly spirit at the school, began the practice of giv ing a medal to the boy who receives the plurality of the votes of the school as the best boy. “ At noon the scholars were gathered in the sohooi-room, and, after other busi ness (including an explanation of the medal system of the school, based on absolute, not relative, merit, so that a medal is within the reach of every pnpil), Mr. Ladd explained the intent of the gentlemen who give the ‘ best-boy med al. ’ ‘ This does not mean, ’ said he, * the best classical soholar, nor the most noted catcher or pitcher at base-ball, nor the ablest mathematician, nor the best drilled soldier, nor the most elegant de claimed nor the fastest runner, nor the most accurate Shakspearian scholar, nor the pluckiest fellow at football. ‘“You, young boys, will do well to vote for the person who seems nearest to what your father > aud mother want you to be—what you mean to be your selves when you are in the first class; and you, young girls, will do well to vote for the boy who comes nearest to being what your parents are trying to have your brothers become. “‘The older scholars are tolerably familiar with ancient and modern histo ry. Vote for that one of your number whose character comes nearest to the noblest man of whom yon have read.’ “All the school sat upright with mil itary precision. Their officers passed the ballots, and each pupil prepared his own. “At the head he puts his own name, and the number of years he had been in the school; below, the name of his choice for the prize. Each ballot counts as many units as the scholar casting it has been years at the school “After the votes were cast, the school was marshalled from the room in regular order, and the result will not be known till the next exhibition. “By long experience it is found that the pupils select a boy who is deemed by the teachers to b* worthy of the medal, thus proving that the sense of honor is the same with boys as with grown peo ple.” A facetious brakeman on the Central Pacific railroad cried out as the train waa about entering the tunnel: “This tunnel is about one mile long, and the train will be four minutes passing through it.” The train dashed into day light again in four seconds, and the scene in the car was one for a painter. Seven young ladies were closely pressed ; by fourteen pairs of masculine arms, fourteen pairs of lips were glued togeth er, and two dozen inverted whisky flasks flashed in the air. A true republic should be like a cus tard pie, without say upper crust. AMATEURS AMD EDITORS. Amateurs are very apt to, look upon editors as their most implsoable foes. The cool persistence with which they decline to avail themselves of' contribu tions which the contributor is (apvinced would make the fortunes of the journals, if they only knew it— tuoh blindness to self-interest—rouses pity in thv’ breast of the worldly-wise amateur. He indites a letter of remonstrance to the misguided editor, and is promptly emsbed. In some a less-tender emotion than pity is aroused by such oonduot Rage very often agitates the bosom at m<o rejected poet Smarting under a sense of gram ill-usage, he pours out theh wrath upon that .and. injustice and wickedness, the editor. Why should his poems be rejected, when so much trash is inserted? W'tty is no reason for rejection vouchsafed to him ? He hysterically demands satisfaction. The amount of this sort of correspond ence that goes on is surprising and dis tressing. It is distressing beoause it shows suoh a lamentable want of tact on the part of the contributors. No editor oan reasonably be expected to reconsider his decision. If he were to 46 so, every rejected article would be sint in half a dozen times, each time with a slight al. teratiqn here and an addition there ; and it would be neoessary to have six edi tors instead of one to examine the con tributions in their suooeasive stages of development. How suoh an economical system would work ws leave the reader to imagine. Naturally thiapfaadgering of editors never leads to “business.” If an editor declines a proffered contribu tion because it is unsuitablcftorhis mag azine, it is not likely that he will be bullied into taking it; and every attempt to do so will bo resented and remem bered. The bad taste as well as bad policy of amateurs who adopt such a course of action cannot be too strongly censured. If they really believe that their article, or poem, or whatever it may be, is worth publishing, let them send it the round of the periodical press from the Nineteenth Century downward, and if it fail to find a haven of rest from its wanderings somewhere, its proper place is in the fire. It ought te be borne in mind that, although the reading pub lic devours an immense ai ,uut of rub bish, and pays for it too, it' not swal low th*-literary garbage jA 'loyC Dy an Who choose to scribble on Gaper with a pen. There is a vast differ >noe between well-written nonsense and' the clumsily hashed encyclopaedia or overstrained sentiment of beginners.— Tinsley’s May turns. fr- JOUBMALISM OMR HUMORED AMD EIFTT YEARS 10. The Hamburger Correspondent, one of the largest and most widely circulated German newspapers, not long ago cele brated its 160th anniversary. The pro prietors published on this occasion a memorial number of 200 pages, giving literal reprints of some of he most inter esting numbers. The (accession of Frederick the Great, file principal events, of his wars against the united powers of Europe, are recounted. The revolution by which Catskarine came to the throne,- wading thrtugh pools of blood, inducting that of )jer husband, is given with comical resent. The num ber of Feb. 6, 1798, ccjitaina a most pathetio account of the execution of Louis XVL, whioh ends With the pleas ant news that “ exchange on Hamburg .is 751 and steady.” \Tlien Napoleon ruled over Germany, the told respectable journal, then already and surly 80 years old, became Journal Offwiel du Depart ment det Bouches de l'.Elbe. Under this regime the numbei) of the 16th of November, 1818, contaiis the official account of the battle of Seipzic, twenty nine days after the evei b. The offioial account says.that Napoli an had won the battle, bnt retired to Eflort for “ strate getical reasons.” Amotg toe contribu tions to toe feuilleton ate Schiller, Lea sing and Herr Goethd “who is the well educated and talented Son of the high-born, most respechble, meat wor thy Herr Senator free city of Frankfort.” Heine iKs a frequent,- contributor. AMOTMER SUBSTITUII FOR CASTOR OIL. A writer mentions t aek elder as a substitute for castor 41. He recom mends a fluid extract made from the bark, each fluid dram < which contains an equivalent of one c am of the bark. The extract is a dark 1 <jwn thick fluid, with a sweet and agi eable taste, and tha dose varies from < le to two drams for a child. As an ap lent it has many advantages over Bhai bus cathartious : it causes no nausea, n eructations, and uo griping, and also s ems to have tonic and aromatio qualiti fL by which the muscular action of th bowels is slightly j stimulated. h There are 17,000 \ flroad engines in the United States, si 1 each one aver | ages fifty toots per da . Where do these 850,000 daily toots o?— Detroit Free Press. They go to i ake toe toot en semble. —LvweU Oo •ier. When the same nan ploys “high j low,” does that iui cate an unsettled I and fluctuating marl it ? the HORSE-CHESTNUT. A couple of our solid citizens--sol/ in avoirdupois as well as in their baf accounts—were on a horse-car a day te two since, when a man came limping aboard apparently suffering from rheu matism. One of the solid men re marked, “I’ve never had a twinge of rheumatism in my life,” and at toe same tone he took from his pants pocket a horse-chestnut, and displayed it with an air that seemed to imply, “This is the little joker that did the business.” But no sooner had solid citizen No. 1 dis played bis Chestnut charm with con tented air, than solid citizen, No. Jtadfee drew from his pAhtaloons pocket a horse chestnut. Said the first citizen, “I've earned that for thirty years." “So have I carried this to# there than thirty years,” replied the other ; but I don’t carry mine for rheumatism. I carry it for gout.” A passenger, who had been an inter ested listener to the foregoing, rather timidly asked one if he really believed there was any virtne in a simple horse chestnut. “No,” answered the man. “Then why do you carry the thing about with you ? ” “ Beoause it don’t cost and oan do no harm, if it does no good.” “It shows a little su perstition, though.” “Very well; I’ll shoulder it. In the meantime I shall keep on carrying it. I’ve carried it thirty years, and have not been troubled with rheumatism. And I know of others who can testify to the same result.” Then the lame man who had got aboard of the car and was the cause of this episode put his hand in his pocket and drew out a horse-chestnut, and held it up to the gaze of the others. A ripple of laughter went up, and the two ■olid citizens who pinned their faith to the nut anticipated a set-back from toe lame man. But the latter remarked, “ Don’t laugh, gentlemen ; I have faith in the horse-chestnut. My lameness is not rheumatism. I got a sprain a few days ago. I had a touch of the rheu matism, though, about ton years ago, and I went and got a horse-chestnut, and have carried it in my pocket ever sinoe. And, gentlemen, I’ve never had the rheumatism since.’' Perhaps three men oariying horse chestnuts is a rather big average for a i one-horse carload of passengers, but these J . tre masculines With these ohestnut chaftus in their pooktits than Dr. Tanner, in his philosophy, “ever dreamed of.” —Hartford Times. NEWSPAPER WRITING YS. MAGA ZINE WORK. The chief duty of most newspaper men is to burrow around tor news, not to form smooth sentences or enunciate beautiful thoughts. Many persons can be brilliant two or three times a year, who utterly fail in the treadmill experi ence of journalistic work. Literary con tributors to newspapers or periodicals seldom become millionaires. Of course, one whs is already famous can get his own price for an article, but $5 a page is a good average compensation for an article accepted by one of our magazines. Suppose it to cover ten pages, the writer receives SSO. If he could write and Re cure a publisher for twelve suoh articles in a year, which is supposing what rarely occurs, his net income would he S6OO. Thus, while it may pay toe young be ginner in law or medicine to employ his own abundant leisure and increase his limited income by writing for the month lies, a complete reliance on them for support, even under favorable circum stances, is foolish. As for ths daily pa pers, they have little room, under the constantly-increasing amount of tele graphic and local news, for the miscel laneous topics, in which alone the out sider can hope to compete with the reg ular staff. Thus they offer very little to the amateur. — Cincinnati Gazette. UTTERAMCRS OP NOTED MEM. “ It looks like rain. ”-r-Plata. “Pass toe butter.” — Horace Greeley. “Cold.day, ain't it?”— Martin Lu ther. “ Yb* oan stop my paper. "—Napoleon Bonaparte. “My head aehss fit to split”— George Washington. “Is this hot enough for you ?”—Car dinal Richelieu. “ Here’s another button off this shirt ” —Daniel Webster. “ Send me up two pounds of steak. Thomas Jefferson. ' “These potatoes ain’t more’n kal* done. ” — Socrates. “You’re fuller than yon we* bsfop dinner. Confucius. “ Gall around next week and I’ll pay it”- -Edgar Allan Poe. “ Can’t you keep ymur cold feet out of my back?”— Brigham Young. “ You needn’t sit up forme; I shan’t be home till late.”— Thomas a-Kempis. “ Can’t you lend me $5 till next Mon day ?” —John Howard Payne. “I suppose I’ve got to go out and shovel off that sidewalk.”— Charles Sumner. An sot by which we make one friend and (me enemy is a losing game, because revenge is a much stronger principle than gratitude. SE!?§2s?l£K£ VOL. Vi.-N0.29. WHY? OH! WHY? Why do women with red or yellowish hair wear “ dead" gold, and greens that remind the beholder of badly cooked vegetables? Why do pale-faced, brown haired women wear the deep red and orange hues which can “ go” only with* the olive and pomegranate tints, and the bine-black hair of the South? Who is accountable for the terra-cotta garments hi whidh some otherwise harmless maid ens pervade fashionable crowds, inspir ing the observer with wonder, totally u mixed with admiration ? slender girls airbed in shapeless clothes, rtnde ap puivnlly of slices VUR ofr the new Natural History Mnsetrin at South Kensington ; strong-minded young women in aggressive cloaks, so un speakably hideous that wedrigh for the ulster of last season, which we then be lieved conld not be surpassed in odious ness ; awful things mode of sage-green tweed with bine frills, or gosling woolen stuff tipped with pink I ffhe eel-skin stylo has been succeeded by bag, and, though the latter is more decent, it is not muoh less ugly. A woman with high, narrow shoulders, and thin, long arms, might do better than array herself in a black satin bag/ with a running string at the neck and at the waist a “ piping” (such, we were assured by a sympathetic friend of the offenders’ own sex, is the correct term by which to desoribe this ‘ Contrivance), from which the skirt hangs shapelesriy to within an inoli of the ankles; and she might crown the edifice more becomingly than withs bonnet—or was it a hat ?—like nothing in nature except a crumpled cabbage. Tba “cosey,” as an adjunct to the tea-table, is of dubious elegance, as well es unquestionably fatal to drink able tea; but when adopted as a cape to the shoulders of blooming girlhood, forming a straight line across the mid dle of the back and cutting its sleeves in two jnst above the elbow, it is the very most unsightly piece of dress that can be put on, especially if it is of a sickly color. Salmon pink satin, lining a big bonnet of crinky crinoline, looking like half a dozen shells joined at the edges, would be trying to the best oouplexions; it was consoling to see it applied only to the worst. Why should a very pretty Indy wear a flat gown of a peculiarly re pulsive green in color, but of rioh velvet ih material, audiover it a hideous camlet cloak of another, and if possible more repulsive, green, with a bunch of yel lowish ribbon at the back and a plash bonnet like the visor of a knight’s hel met? Why should writing people, painting people, singing people, persons presumably intelligent, since they all do something that pleases the pnblio and is paid for in money, array themselves in garments, of price indeed—-sbabbiness is not the note of the popular affectation —butwhioh render them distressingly conspionons? These questions cannot fail to occur to men observing the hu mors of a select crowd, and especially as the dress of “ the conflicting gender ” tends more and more to simplicity. Of course there will always be affected male idiots, long haired and short haired, with neckties that make ns stare and hats that make us wink by their brill iancy ; but these are the mere “ brats ” of society; they are too insignificant to be offensive.—TAe Spectator. alligator lraihhb. It is now twenty-one years since that an old Canadian revealed to the head at a large shoe-manufacturing firm in Bos ton the seoret of a process for the tan ning of alligator hides. The industry immediately became a profitable one, and since then many thousand alligator hides are annuaHy used by onr home manufacturers or seat abroad, princi pally to London and Hamburg. At first the skins came from Louisiana, and New Orleans was the oonter of the traf fic. The wholesale maimer in which the alligators were slaughtered, how ever, speedily rendered them scarce in that State. Florida is now the great source' from which odr supplies are ob tained, and the trade centers in Jackson ville. The alligator* are killed in great numbers, both by passengers on board the steamboats plying on the rivers of Florida and by hunters who follow this pursuit as a means of livelihood. After being killed they are flayed, and only those parts which are useful for leather, such aa the belly and flanks, are pre served. They are then packed in a cask containing a strong brine and sent North to be made into leather. Hither to alligator leather has been used chiefly for men’s boots and shoes ; now, how ever, it is coming into fashion for ladies’ wear. It is also made into slippers, pocket-books, cigar-cases and various other kinds of fancy articles. The traf fic in this leather, which has hitherto been of importance only in this coun try, is now making rapid strides in Eu rope, and at a not far distant day will probably reach no inconsiderable pro portions. — French paper. A Jayah paper says half of the ware sold as Japanese is not genuine. That, however, does not rob the purchasers of the enjoyment they find in paying ex travagant prices for ugly articles they have i nso for. Jons calls his wife’s hair-dresser tor ■witch-tender. A iutcubm story— One in which there are no weddings. Tim is a chap who calls his beet girl Revenge, because "revenge is sweet.” Plump girls are said to be going out of fashion. If this is true, tbe {dumper the girl the slimmer her chances. "Mr Darling’s Shoes” is Hie name of anew ballad, but " the old man’s boot” is generally considered more touohing. The: e iru one* a girt is Duluth Who had aa Aversion to truth, So when bar beau kiaaod her And made her Hpe blister, Bhe told folks shahid a sore tooth. Gentlemen who are continually in veighing against fashion worship should rememlier that it makes a heap of differ ence whose dress is gored. When a ben sits on an empty china egg, you call it blind instinct. What do you call it when a girl sets her affections on an empty-headed noodle ? A chivalrous exchange thinks when a’man marries a widow he should give upsmoking. "She gives up her weeds” —he should be equally polite. The Boston Datty Advertiser heads ”flh rtite to *** columns, "The Greece of To-day.” If this is intended for a conundrum we would answer—Oleomar garine. "Shh was a daisy,” but she put her little French-heeled shoe on a banana peel, and in a flash was transformed into a lady slipper, and then arose blushing like a peony. Ah ambitious girl in Dubuqua Fall in lova with a daar foreign Duka; When she learned that hia caah Waa all earned 11 ellnging haah She kicked like a Baahi-Baaouk. "Do you play the piano?” “No, I don’t play the piano, but my aister Han nah, who is in Savannah, she plays the piano in the most charming mannah,” " Haveabanona ?” A young lady was caressing a pretty spaniel and murmuring, "I do love a nice dog I” “Ah I” sighed a dandy, standing near, " I would I were a dog." " Never mind,” Tetortod the young lady, sharply, “you’ll grew.” Thh Boston Globe remarks that'love is an affection of the stomabh. In the interest of amatory poetry, we really hope not. Just imagine a lover warb ling beneath the lattice of her he loves, “ My stomach, my stomach is breaking for the love of Alice Gray.” “My wife,” remarked a prominent manufacturer, “ never attends auctions. She went onco, just before we were mar ried, and, seeing a friend on the opposite side, nodded politely, whereupon the auctioneer knocked down a patent cradle, anil asked her where she wanted it delivered.” “ Is it true that you aro going to mar ry again?” “It’s very true.” "And whom do you marry?” "My dead wife’s sister.” "Is she handsome?’’ "No." “RiifiT” '•‘Ho) at aU.” “Then why have you chosen her?” “To toll you the truth, dear friend, iu order not to change mother-in-law. ” AW EDITOR'A DEBT. In the years sgone, when De Witt Clinton county, was the county seat and a right smart village in the woods, or on the way to be, the editor of its week* ly paper had some subscribers who paid in wood, others in produce, others in fur, and others yet who didn’t pay at all. One of these latter class was named Lemon, but to squeeze anything out of him was next to impossible. He had excuses at his tongue’s end for not pay ing, and the longer the debt stood the more reasonable his excuses seemed to his creditors. One day the editor met him on the street, and, after a general greeting, began on him with: “Mr. Lemon, you have been owing me for two years.” “ Yetv but I had bad luck in my sugar bush.” "But yon might have brought wood.” "So I should, but I broke two new axes and couldn’t buy another.” "I offered to take it out in turnips and corn.” “ I know, but the crows ate my corn up and the Injuns stole all my turnips.” “Well, how are you getting along now ? ” asked the editor. " First-rate.” “ Havo you a good run of sugar ? ” “Yes.” " Corn doing well ? ” “Splendid.” “ Wheat all right ? ” " Yes, all right.” “ Well, if corn, wheat, potatoes and turnips turn out good, and you keep well and yon have no losses, will you pay me in tha fall 1 ” The farmer scratched his head and took a full minute to think over it before he replied: “ That’s an honest debt and orter be paid, but I won’t positively agree to square up this fall until I know what sort of a corn season we are to have 1 ” It is needless to say that he never ■auared.— Detroit Free Press. A WATKM. “We are *ll waifs,” he said, bending toward her in the moonlight and holding on to the lace window-curtain* like a man giddy with his emotions, "waifs cast upon the ragged shores of exist ence." "But," the replied, edging off a lit tle, “ you're too thin for a waif, Charlie j you’re a wafer, and I like a healthy looking man.” He chewed up two yards of the cur tain in silence, and then went away without saying good-night. One man on the Pacific slope em ployed four weeks in writing fi.571 words on a postal card so that they can be read without the aid of a glass.