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.
