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COLEMAN & KIBBT. Editors and Proprietors.
ELLIJAY COURIER.
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY
—BY—
COLEMAN & KIRBY.
■9“ Office in the Court House
"general directory.
Superior Court meets 3d Monday in
May and 2d Monday in November.
Hon. James R Brown, Judge.
George T. Gober, Solicitor-General.
COUNTY COURT.
Hon. Thomas F. Greer, Judge.
Moultrie M. Sessions,County Solicitor.
Meets 3d Monday in each month.
Court of Ordinary [meets first Monday
in each month.
TOWN COUNCIL.
M. J. Mears, Intendent
M. McKinney, T. H. Tabor, ) r
J. Hunnicutt, J.R. Johnson, j
• W. H, Foster, Town Marshal.
COUNTY OFFICERS.
J. C. Allen, Ordinary,
T. W. Craigo, Clerk Superior Court,
H. M. Bramlett, Sheritf,
J. H. Sharp, Tax Receiver,
G. W. Gates, Tax Collector,
Jas. M. West, Surveyor,
G W. Rice. Coroner,
W. F. Hilt, School Commissioner.
The County Board of I’ducationmeets
at Eilijay the Ist Tuesday in January,
April, July and October.
justices’ courts.
850'h Dist G. M., Eilijay. Ist Thurs
day, A. J. Dooley, J. P., G. H. Randell,
N. P.
864th Dist. G. M., Tickaneteby, Ist
Saturday, J. O. Anderson, J. K, J. vV.
Parker, N. P
907th Dist. G. M., Board town, 4th
Saturday, J S. Smith, J. I*., W. E.
Chanoey, N. P.
932d Dist. G. M , Cartecay, 4th Sat
urday, S. D. Allen, L. M. Simmons, N.
P.
958th G. M., Mou.itaintown, 4th Sat
urday, J. M. Painter, J. P., J. W. With
erow, N. P,
1009th Dist. G. M., Tails Creek, 3rd
Saturday, Cicero M. Tatum, J. P,,Thos.
Ratcliff, N. P.
1035th Dist. G. M., Teacher, Ist Sat
urday. Joseph Watkins, J. P., Jos, P.
Ellis, N. P.
1091st Dist. G. M., Bill Ground, 2d
Saturday, A. M. Johnson, J. P., John
P. Evans. N. P.
1135th Dist, G. M., Town Creek, 2d
Saturday, E. Russel), J. P., John T.
Keeter N P
1136th Dis:. G. M. f Cherry Tog, Ist
Saturday, John H.Whitner, J. P., J, M,
Ward, N.- P.
1274th Dist. G. M., Ridgeaway, 2d
Saturday, John M. ’Quarles, J. P„ W.
E. O. Moore. N. P.
1302d Dist. G. M., Coosawattee, 3d
Saturday, M. C. Blankenship, J. P., A.
J. Hensley, N. P.
13415 t Dist. G. M , Diamond 2d Sat
urday, W. D. Sparks, J. P., Jesse Hold
en, N. P.
1355th Dist., G. M., Alto, 2d Satur
day, Maxwell Chastain, J. P., B. HvAn
derson, N. P.
RELIGIOUS SERVICES.
Methodist Episcopal Church, South. —
Every 4th unday and Saturday bofore,
by Rev. C. A. Jamison.
Baptist Qhurch—Every 2d Saturday
and Snnday, by Rev. N. T. Osborn.
Methodist Episcopal Church—Every
Ist Saturday and Suaday, by Rev.T. D.
Ellington. Every 3d or sth Sunday, by
Rev. R. H. Robb.
FRATERNAL RECORD.
Oak Bowery Lodge, No. 81, F. A, M.,
meets first Friday in each month
P. H. Milton, W. M.
L. B. Greer, S. W.
W. A. Cox, J. W.
R. Z. Robelts, Treasurer.
8 P. Garren, Tyler.
T. W. Craigo, Secretary.
J. W. HENLEY,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
JASPER, GEORGIA
Will practice in the Superior Court of the Blue
Ridge Circuit. Prompt attention to a 1 busi
ness intrusted to his care.
Lands for Sale, Mines fo, Sale,
T [MBKFt FOR SA I j xt,
Water Power for Sale,
LEASES NEGOTIATED BY THE
M to|ia aid Land Minimi
AGENCY.
We are at all times prepared to negoti
ate both purchases and sales of all kinds
of real estate, including Mines, Farms,
and Town property, Water Powers, &c.
Titles to land examined and transcripts
furnished on application at reasonable
cost. Send for circular, or address
THE
North Georgia Land and Mining Agency,
ELLIJAY, GA.
E. W. COLEMAN, Manager.
THOS. F, GREEIt, Attorney.
M. M. Sessions. E. W. Coleman.
SESSIONS A COLEMAN,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
ELLIJAY, GA.
Will lirtclicv m Blue Ridge Circuit, Comity
( min .fimiirt Court of Gilmer County. Ix-gRi
biikiur** solicit* and. ‘Promptues," Is our uiotio.
THE ELLIJAY COURIER.
TIMES CHANGES.
In vain men tell us time ran alter
Old loves or make old memories falter.
That with the old year the old year’s life
closes.
The old dew still falls on the old, sweet
flowers.
The old sun revives the new-fled hours,
The old summer rears the new-born roses.
No time casts down, no time upraises
Such lines, such memories and such praises
As need no grace of sun or shower,
No saving screen from frost or thunder
To tend and house around and under
The imperishable and peerless flower.
WANTED-A NURSE.
A Farce In One Act.
CHARACTERS:
AAnes Daingerfield, in plain house dress.
Fanny Thompson, in walking dress.
John Thompson, an Englishman, her hus
band.
A Maid.
A Policeman.
Cozily but not expensively furnished parlor
in the top story of a flat house in New
York. To the left a portion of an adjoin
ing smaller room is seen through portieres.
A door in the background leads into the
hall. There must be a sofa and a center
table and a chair, the sofa being in the
foreground, and the chair near it.
Agnes (on sofa, engaged in some femi
nine handiwork. HeT glance falls on a
newspaper beside her. Something in it
seems to attract her attention. Drops
her work and takes up the newspaper).
What’s this? “Alone with a Madman!”
That’s a startling heading. [Heading
from paper]. “While Mrs. Spencer, of
1402 Arch street, Philadelphia, was sit
ting in her parlor yesterday afternoon a
ring at the door bell was heard. The
servant, cn opening the door, saw a well
dressed man, who asked for Mrs. Spen
cer. Thinking him a friend of tho house,
the maid showed him into the parlor.
Mrs. Spencer’s surprise may be imagined
when she saw a total stranger. But her
surprise gave way to alarm when he ap
proached her and asked, ‘How soon will
you be ready to go with me?’ for some
thing in the man’s looks and manners
led her to conclude that he was mentally
unsound—an impression which was con
firmed when he proceeded to ask her a
number of peculiar questions. With
great presence of mind, Mrs. Spencer
answered these questions calmly, and
when he finally repeated his first ques
tion, ‘How soon will you be ready
to go with me?’ replied, ‘Right away,
sir.’ Leaving the parlor with him,
she opened the front door. When they
were outside she hastily retreated back
through the door, which she had left
ajar, and slammed it in the madman’s
face. After ringing the bell furiously
awhile he left. Mrs. Spencer says he
was tall, of dark comp exion, good-look
ing, well dressed, and spoke with an
English accent. A man answering Mrs.
Spencer’s description of the intruder was
seen in the afternoon in the Pennsylvania
Railroad depot, and the police think he
took the train for New York. The New
York police have been notified, and are
on the lookout.” That's a pleasant ex
perience. But perhaps it’s only a news
paper story. [Throws down newspaper
and resumes her work. ] Dear me! here
it’s nearly 3 o’clock, and no nurse has
come yet. I’m sure the advertisement
read they were to call from 11 to 3. It
was clear enough. “Competent Infant’s
Nurse. Apply from 11 to 3, at 10!) East
Forty-ninth Street, top flat.” I suppose
they object to the top flat. Servants are
so particular nowadays. There! I never
asked Alfred if he’d had the advertise
ment put in the paper. It would be just
like him to have forgotten it, and when
I ask him about it, to make the old ex
cuse—too many things of more import
ance to remember. Seems to me if a wife
wants any little matter attended to down
town. she’d better ask someone else’s
husband to attend to it for her. Why,
only this morning I found in Alfred’s
coat pocket the letter to Fanny Law
rence—Fanny Thompson I suppose I must
call her, now she’s married—l gave him
to post three days ago. What must
Fanny think of me? Only just returned
from England, after five years’ absence,
married there since I saw her last, writes
to mo to ask when she cam come and have
a good old-fashioned talk with me and
compare notes about the babies, and
doesn’t hear from me for three days! So
I have to scatch off a note to her asking
her to come up this afternoon after 3
o’clock, and explaining why she hadn’t
heard from me before, and send it by a
messenger. (After a short pause.] Well,
how time does goes round! When Fanny
and I last saw each other neither of us
were married, and now we’re making ap
pointments to meet and compare notes
on our babies. To think, too, that Fanny
should have married an Englishman;
she who was the most American girl in
our set, and always took special delight
in snubbing Anglomaniacs. How well I
remember the way she took down that
young Strong after he came back from
London, with English clothes and an
English accent, when he told her (with
a broad English pronunciation), “I’ve
been to England er-er-er to finish my
education, you know, hecause-er you
can’t get-era finished education in this
country, you know.” “Ah. I see!" ex
claimed Fanny. “You went over to
England a calf, and returned a ba uf a’
la mode!” [Bell rings. | The boll!
That must be a nurse, or perhaps it's
someone to look at the flat. " [To maid,
as she passes the hall door, j Mary!
Enter Maid.
Maid. Y’es’rn.
Agnes. Look over the baluster, Mary,
and see if a woman’s coming up.
[Exit Maid, and reenter after moment.
Maid. It’s a gentleman, mum, as is
coming up.
Aukiis. A gentleman! Someone to see
the flat, surely. How nice! Perhaps
we’ll succeed iu letting it for the sum
“A. Slap of Busy Life—lts Fluctuations and its Vast Oonoerns.”
ELLIJAY, GA., THURSDAY, JANUARY U, 1881’..
mer, after all. Show him in here, Mary.
[Exit to side room through portieres.
Exit Maid. After a short pause
Mr. Thompson is shown into the
, parlor by the maid.
Maid. Please be seated, sir; the lady
will be in directly. [Exit.
Thompson (who has seated himself on
the sofa, speaks with a strong English
accent). What a curious country this is,
by Jovcl They can’t seem to call things
by their right names here. “The lady
will be here directly.” I didn’t climb
up five flights of stairs to see a lady. I
want to see a nurse. But men and
women who in England would only be
servants seem to consider themselves
gentlemen and ladies here. I’ve only just
been to a house where the girl who open
ed the door told me, when I said I’d
come lo see the nurse who advertised
from there: “The lady ’ll be up in a
moment. She’s in the kitchen ironing
the baby’s wash.” What a beastly thing
it Is anyhow for a man to go about look
ins? for a nurse! I can’t fancy such go
ings on in England. But nobody seems
to think it out of the way here. Fanny
just says to me: “Now, John, you’ll
have to go the rounds to-day. I’m sure
to hear from Mrs. Daingerfield this
morning—it’s three days since I wrote
her—and she may appoint this afternoon.
I wouldn’t run the risk of not seeing her
for anything. You koow our nurse
leaves us next week.” Wants to leave
us, when she’s only been with us since
we landed. Fanny’s mother engaged
her for us. Likes the place, but doesn’t
care to go to the sea-shore for the sum
mer. Prefers the mountains? So do
we —only we can’t go there. The nurses
in this country seem to have the pick of
the summer resorts. Let me see [pull
ing a newspaper out of his pocket].
This is the right place, isn’t it? I don’t
want to go wrong the way I did this
morning when I mistook the number of
a house, and the people looked at me as
though they thought I was a suspicious
character, [scans newspaper.] Yes, this
is right. [Reads.] “Competent Infant s
Nurse. Apply from eleven to three at
109 East Forty-ninth Street, top flat.”
And it’s under “Situations Wanted.”
Well, I only hope I’ll find a girl who
looks as if she might do, after climbing
up five flights of stairs. It’s like ascend
ing the steeple of the Cologne cathedral
to get to these flats. An Englishman's
house is bis castle; an American’s flat is
his tower. Ah! hero comes the nurse.
[Enter Agnes through portieres. On
seeing a stranger she advances some
what hesitatingly as far as table,
where she stops with an embarrassed
look.
Thompson (aside). Avery clever, neat
looking girl. I think she’ll suit. A little
too genteel-looking for hard work, per
haps. [To Agnes. | Well, my good girl,
I think you’ll suit. Have you any refer
ences? How soon will you be ready to
go with me?
[Agnes is at first surprised. But with
Thompson’s last question her expres
sion changes to alarm. She invol
untary glances at the newspaper she
has been reading.
Agnes (aside, excitedly and rapidly).
Good heavens! Tall! well-dressed! with
an English accent? Pennsylvania Rail
road Depot! Evening train to New
York! It all tallies. It’s he, the mad
man! And I alone! What shall I do?
[Calmer.] I will try to copy Mrs. Spen
cer. [As if suddenly struck with an
idea, and with assumed sang-froid.] I’ll
call a policeman over the messenger ser
vice, and try to keep him [looks toward
Thompson] quiet till the policeman
comes. [ Moves to the mantle-piece and
signals twice. To Thompson.] I’m ready
to go with you any time, sir.
Thompson (aside). She seems to be
very much excited about changing places.
[To Agnes.] Have you been long in this
place, my good girl?
Agnes. Ever since Alfred and I were
married, a year and a half ago.
Thompson. What, married? Did I
understand you to say you were married ?
We don’t want a ccachman, so we can’t
engage your husband too.
Agnes. Alfred a coachman! [Recol
lecting herself.] Er— no; that is, I
didn’t mean I was married. I meant
ever since my brother Alfred was mar
ried, a year and a half ago.
Thompson. Ah, I see. I don’t ob
ject, anyhow, to servants having hus
bands if they live out in separate places.
A husband is less objectionable than a
lover. He doesn’t come to see her so
often. [Agnes seats herself.] Cool,
but American, I suppose. | Reflecting, j
Fanny’s very particular about the nurse’s
taking a bath once a week.
Agnes. If that policeman only would
cornel
Thompson (after some hemming and
hawing). I must insist on your taking
a bath—
Agnes (with an alarmed start.) Now?
Thompson. Once a week at least. I
suppose you’re accustomed to that?
Agnes. Only once a week? Why,
every morning.
Thompson (aside). She’s cleaner than
I thought she was. [To Agnes. ] I see
you haven’t a cap on. My wife likes the
nurse to wear caps. Do you object ?
Agnes. Oh.no. Alfred thinks they’re
very becoming to me.
Thompson (aside). How fond she
seems of that brother! I hope they’re
not too becoming. I don’t like nurses to
look too pretty. The policemen stop
and talk to them. [To Agnes. [ What
has been your experience with babies?
Agnes (forgetting herself, enthusiasti
cally). It’s been too lovely for anything.
Our little Alfred’s just as cunning as can
be. Says papa, mamma: and as for gee
gees, he has them on the brain.
Thompson. Good heavens! My good
girl, I hope they’re not catching?
Agnes. Catching? What’s catching?
Thompson. The gee-gees. You said
the baby you are taking care of had them
on the brain.
Agnes (recollcctiu j herself). Oh! I
see , gee-gees is baby talk for lioise.
Thompson (relieved). Ah! You seem
to love the child.
Agnes (enthusiastically). Love him?
My own flesh and blood! Alfred's and
my dear little baby! Our first little
treasure! I adore him.
Thompson. Dear *mc! dear me! 1
thought you said you were not married.
Agnes (confused). No; that is—er—
no, sir, I m not married.
Thompson. Not married, and you
have a little treasure?
Agnus. I was just repeating what
missus calls him.
Thompson. Ahl I see. [Aside. |
How nervous she is! [To Agnes.] I
hope, my good girl, you’re a light sleeper;
I hope you don’t snore?
Agnes. Snore! I snore! [Rises.] Sir,
you forget whom you are ad— [Recol
lects herself.] Oh, no sir, I don’t snore.
Thomson (aside). Dear me, how ex
cited sho'igetting! Perhaps you can’t
be as particular with servants in Ameri
ca as you can in England. Oh, I recol
lect now; Fanny told me I musn’t be as
abrupt with the servants I saw as I
would be in England. I think Fanny
would like this girl. I suppose I must
try to make a good impression. [To
Agnes, as he rises.] What is your name
my dear girl?
Agnes (frightened at Thompson's ris
ing). Agnes, sir.
Thompson (advancing toward her).
What a pretty name. [Chucks her un
der the chin.
Agnes (aside). Good heavens! he’s
getting excited. He wants to find out
the best place to pass his knife over my
throat.
[Thompson advances more familiarly,
and tries to chuck her once more un
der the chin. Agnes seizes him,
and holds his arm with ihe strength
of desperation. Thompson in great
alarm, struggles to free himself. The
following is uttered at Intervals of
the brief struggle.
Thompson. She’s mad. I thought
some of her answers wild. The woman’s
mad.
Andes. Mary! Kill the madman be
fore he kills me. Police! police! [A
crash is heard, at though the fiat door
were being forced open. Policeman
rushes in and seizes Thompson. Maid
appeals at hall door, and looks with
amazement on the scene. To policeman. |
Hold him fast. Don’t iet him go. He’s
the madman from Philadelphia.
[ Grabs the newspaper and shows it
to policeman.
Policeman. Yes, mum. We’ve been
on thejookout for him. Got instructions
from headquarters.
[Tightens his hold on Thompson l ,
who seems completely dazed. Mean
while there have been Several rings
at the bell, to which in the confu
sion no one has attended. Enter
Mrs. Thompson.
Anges (falls almost into hysterics into
Mrs. Thompson’s arms). Fanny, Fanny,
you might not have found me alive.
Such a terrible time with a madman?
Mrs. Thompson. A madman? Where
is he?
Anges (pointing to Thompson).
There!
Mrs. Thompson. A madman! Why,
that's John! [Runs up and embraces
him as if to protect him. 1 My husband.
Anges. Your husband? I don’t un
derstand,
Thompson. I don’t understand this
predicament either.
Mrs. Thompson. Yes, my husband.
There must be some mistake.
Thompson. I came here to look for a
nurse who advertises from hore.
Agnes. From here?
Thompson. Yes, from here. (Reads).
“Situations Wanted. Competent In
fant’s Nurse. Apply from 11 to 3at 109
East Forty-ninth street, top flat.”
Agnes! Oh, that Alfred! He’s gone
and put it under “Situations Wanted”
instead of under “Help Wanted.” But
you can’t blame me, Fanny. See this
(shows the dispatch from Philadelphia
to Mr. and Mrs. Thompson).
Mrs. Thompson. Well, I can’t blame
you, Agnes. Can you, John.
Thompson. Why, no— tall, well
dressed, dark complexion, good looking
—it’s complimentary.
Policeman (who has let go of Thomp
son). Well, I suppose I’m not wanted
any longer.
(Exit with Maid.
Agnes. Mr. Thompson, how can I
apologize?
Mr. Thompson. Don’t mention it.
Mrs. Daingerfield. lam most happy to
have met you, even under such peculiar
circumstances.
Agnes. And I you. And now, Fanny
dear, that you’re here, you and Mr.
Thompson must stay and dine with us,
and after dinner we’ll write out an ad
vertisement for Alfred to put in the
papers.
Mrs. Thompson. What shall it be?
Agnes. Wanted — A competent in
fant’s nurse for forgetful
Gustav Kobbe, in Harper's Bazar.
Mesmerism as an Anaesthetic.
One of the most unique, if not the
most remarkable, operations in modern
surgery has been performed at Dennison,
0., by I)r. S. L. McCurdy, surgeon of
the Pan-Handle railroad. A young man,
a resident of Uhrichsville, named Alonzo
Mitchner, aged about eighteen years,
applied to the doctor to be operated on
for strabismus, or cross-eye. The doc
tor, who had been experimenting some
iu mesmerism, discovered that the young
man was very susceptible to mesmerism
and concluded to operate on him with
out using any other an test lie tic than his
power of mesmerism, which he did quite
successfully in the pretence of your cor
respondent and a number of other wit
nesses. The patient did not show the
least sign of consciousness of what was
passing, and stated when he recovered
i-ouNCiousnesM that he exjierienced no
pain.— Cincinnati Enquirer.
Ask the Price.
Whenever I want anything I always
ask the price of it, whether it be anew
coat or a shoulder of mutton, a pound of
tea or a ball of pack-string. If it ap
pears to bo worth the maney I buy—tha)
is, if I can afford it; but if not, I let it
alone; for ho is no wise man who'pays
for a thing more than it is worth. t
But not only in the comforts of food
and clothing, but in all other things, I
ask the same question; for there is a
price to a day’s enjoyment as well aa to
a joint of butcher’s meat.
The spendthrift sets his heart on ex
pensive baubles, but he does not ask
their price; he is, therefore, obliged to
give them his houses, his laad, his
friends and his comfort; and these are
fifty times more than they arc worth.
The drunkard is determined to have
his brandy and gin and his strong ale;
and he never makes the price an object,
so he pays for them with his wealth, his
character and his peace—and a sad bar
gain he makes of it! It is the same with
others.
The gamester will be rich at once, but
riches may be bought too dear: for he
who in getting money also gets the habit
of risking it on the turn of a card or
the throw of the dice will soon bring
pounds to pence. The gamester pays for
his riches with his rest, bis reputation
and his happiness. Do you think if
the highwayman asked tho price of un
godly gain that he could ever commit
robbery? No, never! But he does not
ask the price, and foolishly gives for it
his liberty, if not his life.
Ask the price of what you would pos
sess, and make a good bargain. A little
produce will secure you a great deal of
peace. But if, after all, you will have
the pleasure of sin, I pray you consider
the price you must pay for it.—Church
man.
Merits of the Mnssel.
Tho report of the English vice-consul
on the mussel culture of La Rochelle,
serves to show what an amount of whole
some food is wasted owing to our ignor
ance or our pred judices. All around our
shores the mussel is found in abundance.
Thousands of tons are every year used
for bait or for manure; but, except
among the humbler classes in the manu
facturing towns, this excellent shellfish
is almost unknown as an article of diet.
Yet, in the opinion of many good judges,
it is not much inferior to thtroyster, and
is infinitely prefarable to the cookie, the
vineyard snail, or even to the famous
clam, which fills so large a place in the
gastronomic history of every good Amer
ican. When eaten at all, it is usually
eaten au naturei. In this state it is not
to be despised, though, unlike oysters,
this neglected mollusc bears manipula
tion at the hands of the cook without
any deteriorations. Mussels ala pou
lette is a dish worthy af note. Mussels
and rice are not to be shunned, while
mussels boiled, mussel catsup, mussels
pickled, mussels scalloped, mussel soup,
mussel sauce, and stewed mussels occupy
an honored position in the receipt book
of every Continental chef. Grimrod do
la Reyniere called them the “oyster of
the poor.”— London Telearaph.
A Fiji Tipple.
The drink most partaken of on the
Fiji islands is made of Angona bark,
said a lecturer, atd the natives take ad
vantage of every excuse to take a drink,
as is the custom in more civilized coun
tries. The bark is gathered and cut inta
small bits, and when the proprietor of a
place desires to imbibe he calls a boy,
who chews up the bark until it is a soft,
yielding mass, and it is then thrown Into
a large bowl standing near. This is re
peated until there are seven or eight
quids in the vessel, when water is poured
in and the contents are thoroughly mixed
by stirring with the hand. The salintora
are then taken out by the liquid being
strained through some fibrous material,
and the beverage is ready. The lecturer
said that he had often partaken of An
gona and really liked it. The liquid is
drank from cocoanut shells, and one can
sit and drink large quantities of the stuff
without feeling anv unpleasant effect,
but when you wish to go you are unable
to move, as you are drunk from the hips
down, and the only way to do is to sit
still until the effect has worn off.
Ages of Animals.
Camels live from forty to fifty years;
horses average twenty-five to thirty;
oxen about twenty; sheep eight to nine,
and dogs from twelve to fourteen. Con
cerning the ages attained by non-domes
tic animals, only a few isolated facts are
known. The East Indians believe that
the life period of elephants is about 800
years—instances being recorded of these
animals having lived 130 years in con
finement, after canture at an unknown
age. Whales are estimated to reach the
age of 400 years. Some reptiles are very
loDg lived, an instance being furnished
by a tortoise, which was confined in
1638 and existed until 1753, when it
perished by an accident. Birds some
times attain a great age, the eagle and
the swan having been known to reach
100. The longevity of fishes is often re
markable—carp having been known to
reach 200; common river trout fifty
years, and the pike ninety years; while
Gessner, a Swiss naturalist, relates that
a pike caught in 1497 bore a ring re
cording the capture of the same fish 267
years before.
The Difference.
Behold, two friends go forth to-day;
Both are on pleasure bent:
One to the beach to take bis way.
To watch the wave* te*s high their spray,
The other through the town to stray
To “see tbs elephant.”
Now what’s the difference ’twist the twof
The answer come* with eaae.
’Tfs (imply this: One sees the sights,
The stber sights the sea*.
—Bo-ton Courier.
VOL. X. NO. 44.
THE LEGEXIt OF THE LAKE.
Far, fnr away, ’uenth the grassy slope
Of a mountain over the sea.
A fair blue lake lies ever at rest.
And the sunbeams merrily
Come down by day to shimmer and bathe
In itsripplee clear and bright,
Where the wonderful stars are multiplied
Through the peace of tho summer's night
'Tis a strange, sad tale that the boatman tells,
As he rests on his idle <j=ts,
A legend sweet of the lake so blue,
To the stranger on its shores.
It was many and many a year ago,
In a summer-time bright and sweet,
When a beautiful village nestled low
At the stanch old mountain’s feet
But a fierce, wild spirit it was that ruled
And dwelt on the mountain-side,
And never a man had dared to probe
The heart of its cavern wide.
Alas, for the day when they angered him I
Alas, for the people then!
Full well they dreaded the wrath to come,
Though they knew not how or when.
There dawned a beautiful summer morn,
A golden Sabbath day,
When quietly on to the Uttle church
The villagers took tbeir way.
While the bells in the spire softly rang
Till their sweetness filled the air,
And out through the lowly vestibule
Came the pastor's voice in prayer.
Then suddenly fell from the mountain top
A flood of waters os blue
As the summer sky; and the sunlight shone
On the waters, which grew and grew
Till never a trace af the village lay
’Neath the fleecy cloud* above,
And only a fair still lake, at rest
Where once were life and lova
And, says the legend, wher ever there dawn
The sun of a Habbath day,
One hears the peal of the church bells soft,
And the murmur of those who pray,
In the village lying beneath the lake
Of that mountain over the sea.
Where the sunbeams bathe, and the stars at
night
Are lying so rostfully.
. —Mary D. Brine, in Harper's Weekly.
PUNGENT PARAGRAPHS.
The keynote of good breeding—B
natural.
The grocer puts sand in his sugar,
thinking he may thereby put rocks in
his pocket.— Merchant- Traveler.
Oh, what can be the matter!
For Hever. weeks or more
There’s been no revolution
On Cuba's feverish shore.
, — Puck.
Paregoric is the newest handkerchief
perfume. Old maids like it. It is so
suggestive of extreme youth.— St. Paul
Herald.
A California faimer has shipped 56,000
pounds of mustard seed to New York.
He believes in making it warm for the
public. —Boston Post.
A farmer once called his cow “Zephyr,"
Bhe seemed such an amiable bephyr.
When the farmer drew near,
She kicked off his ear,
And now the old farmer’s much dephyr.
—GoodalFs Sun.
Some person advertises in an ex
change that be wants “a live man to
handle & new sewing machine.” We
suspect that he would not trust anew
sewing machine in the hands of a dead
man, and yet we should think the latter
could handle anew machine as carefully
as he could an oid one. —Norristown
Httali.
The Detroit Free Press says some fel
low has patented “an automatic stool
that shuts up when the cow kicks.” This
may be a valuable invention, but we
don’t believe the ingenuity of man is
capable of producing a contrivance that
will cause the milker to shut up when
the cow kicks. That is the % time he or
she opens out and uses language. — Nor
ristown Herald.
Where England’s Rulers are Buried.
A place has been given in this list to
Oliver Cromwell. Strictly speaking,
Cromwell was not a sovereign, but most
people will agree with Macaulay, that
“he was the greatest Prince that ever
ruled England. ” His remains were dis
honored when Charles 11. came to the
throne, but there is no dishonoring his
place in history.
William 1., at Caen 1087
William IL, at Winchester 1100
Henry L, at Reading Abbey 1135
Stephen, at Favrrsham Abbey, Kent... 1154
Henry IL, at Fonteviaud, Anjou 1189
Richard 1., at Fontevraud, but his heart
was bequeathed to the citizens of
Rouen 1196
John, at Worcester 1216
Henry 111., at Westminster Abbey 1272
Edward L, at Westminster Abbey 1307
Edward IL, at Gloucester Abbey 1327
Edward IIL, at Westminster Abbey— 1377
Richard IL, at Westminster Abbey— 1399
Henry IV., at Canterbury 1418
Henry V., at Westminster Abbey 1422
Henry VL, at Windsor 1471
Edward IV., at Windsor 1488
Edward V., at Westminster 1488
Richard 111., at Gray Friars. His bones
were not allowed to remain there; they
were torn from his humble bed by
Henry VIIL, and bis stone coffin used
as a drinking trough for hones at an
inn in Leicester 1485
Henry VIL, at Westminster 1500
Henry VIII., at Windsor 1547
Edward VL.at Westminster 1553
Mary L, at Westminster 1568
Elizabeth, at Westminster 1603
James 1., at Westminster 1825
Charles!., at Windsor 1649
Cromwell, at Westminster 1600
Charles 11., at Westminster 1685
Mary 11., at Westminster Abbey 1694
James IL, at HL Germain, Paris 1701
William 111., at Westminster Abbey... 1702
Anne, at Westminster Abbey 1714
George 1., at Hanover 1727
George IL, at Westminster Abbey 1760
George IIL, at Winlsor 1820
Ganrge IV. at W.udsoi' item
Wil lam 1 v., at W mdnor 1837
—Leeds tEnytandl Mercury.