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' ~ coriMAjmMM^ W Office in the Court House GENERAL DIRECTORY. Superior. Court meets 3d Monday iu May and 2d Monday in October. Hon. James R. Brown. Judge. George F. Gober, Solicitor General. COUNTY COUBT. 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. J. P. Perry, lutendent. M. McKinney, r. H. Tabor, \ n J. Hunnicutt, J.R. Johnson, J ' jom - W. H. Foster, Town Marshal. COUNTY OFFICERS. J. C. Aden, Ordinary, T. W. Craigo, Clerk Superior Cou*'t, H. M. Bramlett, Sheriff, J. H. Sharp, Tax Receiver, G. W. Gates, Tax Collector, ■3a*. M. West, Surveyor, G. W. Rice, Coroner, W. F. Hill, School C< mmisaioner. The County Board of education meet* at Ellijay the Ist Tuesday in January, April, July nnd October. RFLIGIOCB SERVICES. Methodist Ep : scopal Church, South.— Every 4th f-undny and Saturday before, b/ Rov. C. M. Ledbetter. Baptist Church—Every 2nd Saturday and Sunday, bv Rev. N. L Osborn. Methodist Episcopal Church—Ever. Ist Saturday and Sunday, by Rev. K H. Robb. FRATBaNAti RECORD, Oak Bowery Lodge, No 81, F. A. M,, meets first Friday in each month. W. A. Cox, W. M. I. B. Greer, S. \V. W. F. Hipp, J. W. It. Z. Roberts, Tret*. T. W. Craigo, Sec. IV. AV. Roberts, Tyler. T. B. Kirby, S. D. H. M. Bramlett, J. D. J. W. HENLEY. ATTORNEY AT LAW, JASPER, GEORGIA. (Vi 1 practice in tire Superior Court of the Bins Riilfie Circuit. Prompt attention to a 1 busi ue a intrusted to bis care. U. M. Sessions. E. W. Colkmin SESSIONS & COLEMAN, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, ELLIJAY, GA. Will praotice in Blue Ridge Circuit, County Court Justice Contact Gilmer County. Legal buaineea solicited. •‘Pfomptneaa” ia our motto. DR. J. S. TANKERSLEY. Physician aad Surgeon, Tend-rg his professional services io the citi sens of Etlijay, Gilmer and surrounding conn lies. Alt calls promptly attend ‘d to. Office upstairs over the firm of Cobb & Son. ftl FE WALDO THORNTON, O.D.S. DENTIST, Calhoun, Ga. Will visit Ellijay and Morgnnton at both the Spring and Fall term of the Superior Court—and oftaner by special contract, when sufficient work is guar anteed to justify me in making the visit. Address as above. Tmav2l-1 DR. W. L. HARPER, PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON, ELLIJAY, GEORGIA, Oder, liis professional services to the eili z<-ns of Gilm-r and adjacent counties. All calis prom ly filled, diy or night. Office up stairs in Centra' Hotel, over store room. 4-2'2-ly ' Young men Who wiah a Thorough preparation foi Business will find superior advantages at MOORE’S BUSINESS UNIVERSITY ATLANTA, GA. Tiro largest and best Practical Business Schoo: in the South. can enter at any time. for circulars. t-the liAVfRENGE PURE LINSEED,OIL n MIXED Paints READY FOR USE. W The Best Palsat Made. Guaranteed to contain no water, benzine, barytes, chemicals, rubber, asbestos, rosin, gloss oil, or other similar adulteration*. A full guarantea on every package and directions for use, so that any one not a practical painter can uaa it. Handsome sample cards, showing 88 beautiful shade*, mailed free on application. If not kapt by your daaler, writ# to u* Bt cartful to ask lor “ THE LAWRENCt PAINTS.” and d* eat Uk* any ether said I* b* “ss food at LswrdMs'd.” W. W. LAWRENCE 1 CO., riTTMTROH, TA, For what has grown of life a A shadow passing o'er the sun, Then gone, and life again has come, We meet and part, and then forget; And life holds blessings for us yet, —Hester Freeman, in the Current, BIAR’S BACKSLIDING. Biar Gillett—Tobiah, by baptism— drove down the muddy road and stop ped at Stephen Pinney’s front gate. It was a Sunday afternoon in early spring. The first thaw had set in; the sun shone down warmly, and the roofs of the houses and barns and the few dirty drifts of snow in the fence-cornets appeared dazzlingly bright beneath it. The wheels of Biar's two-seated buggy dripped with mud, and the tall red horse was well spattered. Stephen Pinney’s place was severely neat in all particulars. The square house was wingless; the yard was undecorated save for au evergreen bush set with geo metrical precision on each side of the brick walk, and an elliptical flower-bed whose bareness was atoned for by the large pink sea shells which bordered it; the green paper shades in the front win dows were rolled up as nearly as possible to the same point, and gave a glimpse of chair-backs set close against the wall. The door opened before Biar could alight, and a girl came out. She wore a red-and-black checked shawl over a black alpaca dress, and she cams down the walk with a stiffness which indicated a consciousness of being dressed up. Her thin, freckled face wore a pleased look. ‘‘Good-afternoon, Louise,” said Biar. “Good-afternoon, Bia-,” the girl re sponded, “I was all ready, and I thought there wasn’t no need of your getting out and coming in.” File climbed into the buggy unassisted, and sat down on the front seat beside the long-legged, light-haired,serious-visaged young man. The mud splashed up on them as they started away. But Biar was “keeping company” with Louise Pinney, and it had not entered their heads to omit their usual Sunday afternoon drive because the going was bad. Neither were they dis turbed by their lack of a single buggy. The two-seated one was all that Biar pos sessed, except a lumber-wagon, and they would not have stopped at that if it had been a condition of their going. “Mis’ Baldwin’s got a visitor,” Louise said, ns they came in sight of a long, yel low-painted house. “She’s got her cousin from over in Dodsonville; Mandy Saw yer’s her name. Her folks are away from home, and she’s staying to Mis’Baldwin’s while they’re gone. I was down to Mis’ Baldwin’s yesterday, and she introduced me. She’s a real lively acting girl.” “Is that her?” said Biar. He was gazing admirably at a young giri who was standing at the Baldwins’ , front gate. She was fifteen at the most, but she was tall and plump, and there was a marked pretention to style and gayety in her blue, silk-trimmed dress, her white beads and the ribbon on top of her head. She had red cheeks, sharp blue eyes and a profusion of light curls, which fell about her round face in the manner of an old-fashioned china doll. “How d’ you do, Miss Pinney?” she called out. Bair was staring at her broadly, and she gave him a pert little nod. He turned to look back at her as they drove on, and she returned his gaze boldly, shaking back her curls jauntily and swinging herself on the gate. “She’s pretty good-looking,” said Biar; but that was a feeble expression of the admiration with which Miss Mandy Sawyer’s blooming charms had overpow ered him. Biar generally dropped in at Stephen - innev’s two or three evenings a week; it wa? a necessary part of keeping com pany. That week he did not come. Louisa put on her black alpaca every evening, and took it off at 7:30. Biar never came later than 7:30, and there was no need of keeping it on after that time, and wear ing it out. She did not know why he did not come: but she had full trust in him, and his non-appearance did not rouse her suspicions. But Lyman Baker came in toward the end of the week with a piece of news. Lyman Baker had been mildly atten tive to Louise before Biar Gillett’s suc cession. He had not admired her par ticularly—he flattered himself that he knew a good-looking girl when he saw one; but he had established an enviable reputation as a lady’s man, and to keep it untarnished it was necessary that there should be no girl in the neighborhood who had not “gone with” him. He had bestowed his preference on Tilly Dilling ham of late; but he was leaving Tilly severely alone at present because she had had “other company” when he had in vited her to the last sociable. He was a short, bony young man, with small dark eyes and a prominent tooth. He had clerked for a month or so in a shoe-store in the nearest town, and this metropoli tan experience showed itself in his.spot ted cravat and his celluloid cuff-buttons. “There’s a smashing girl down to Baldwin’s,” was Lyman's opening re mark. It was a term which had been frequently employed at the shoestore. Stephen Pinney, his wife and the “hired girl” were in the sitting-room. If it had been Biar they would have re tired to the back part of the house, be cause Biar was “steady company,” and steady company was never infringed upon by the family in general. “I met her and Biar Gillett out walk ing just now,” Lyman pursued. “They say they’re, going together.” Louise looked at him. Her thin cheeks grew hot and colorless. Stephen Pinney and his wife and the hired girl looked at her anxiously,” and the former addressed a remark to Lyman Baker concerning the working out of taxes on the road. He himself was road-master, and he didn’t calculate to have any shirking this season. Louise sat silent, smoothing down her black alpaca—Lyman had come before half-past seven—and saying nothing. But when he finally got up to go, she rose also. * wfr Hr>' i 1 " ■ ' ■ -t 1 'li. l.m I. Louise did not give up all hope. Sun day afternoon she put on her black al paca and her red and-black shawl, and stood watching for him in the front win- I dow. She could not believe that he would not come: and when she 1 saw the two-seated buggy coming down the road, with Biar’s lanky form on the front seat, the dull weight nt her heart lifted,and left her in a joyful glow, I j The mud was dried to-day; the wheels of Biar’s buggy were black and shiny;! Thar himself had an unusual air of smart- j ness, and wore anew hat—a wide- 1 brimmed felt. But lie drove straight by j without turning his head. Lyman Baker came in the next even- | ing, and again three days afterward. On i that occasion Mr. and Mrs. Pinney and | the hired girl went out into the kitchen; 1 it looked as though Lyman was going to be steady company. The young man sat in a large rocking chair with figured calico cushions and a crocheted “tidy.” Louise had been sit ting at the table, with its stamped oil cloth cover and its red-wicked kerosene lamp, with a small pasteboard box before her, whose contents she had been sober ly fingering over. It held all that Biar had ever given her; a plaid silk hand kerchief, a small tin-type of himself, and a red cornelian bracelet, phe put the cover on the box and dropped it into her lap when the visitor entered. She knew quite well now that Biar had deserted her; that he was drawn ; away and held fast by the superior charms of another girl, and that he was “going with” her steadily; that there was no hope of regaining him. She had settled down into a hopelessness which was worse than the first sharp pang; and her despair had developed a quiet pas sivity. She was not troubled by Lyman ! Baker's visits: she had not the jealousy for her trampled hopes nor the solf i assertion necessary for rebelling against him, even in thought. She accepted him as a part of her misfortune, i Lyman broke the long opening silence j by a remark concerning the. weather, j He said they had had a middling fair | spell. He followed it up, after another | pause, with a piece of information. “They say that Biar Gillett and that girl to Baldwin’s—what's her name! “Mandy Sawyer,” said Louise, raising her eyes in quick apprehension. “They say they’re going to be married. They say Biar's been over to the Centre and got a license, and they’re going to be married next Sunday night after meet ing.” “You don’t say sol” said the girl. But she felt no astonishment. The sudden ness of the consummation was a fit ele ment in the crude young courtship; and she felt it vaguely. Her hands were un steady, and she rubbed them up and down the little pasteboard box. Then she put it on the table and shoved it away, without anger. It did not seem to be long to her now. Lyman Baker looked at her undisturb edly. He knew that she and Biar Gillett had been keeping company, but he had no suspicion that she could have given Biar Gillett more than a passing thought, in the face of his own superior attrac tions. A sudden idea occurred to him—an idea which was encouraged by recollec tions of Tilly Dillingham and the last so ciable. He moved about briskly on his calico cushion, staring at Lousie. The idea, considered in the abstract, pleased him; his small, dark face reddened ex citedly, and his mouth drew back in 0 smile over the prominent tooth. “I guess Biar Gillett don’t suspicion but what you’re worrying some about him and that girl to Baldwin’s,” he said. He was thinking that perhaps Tilly Dillingham flattered herself that he was worrying about her. “It’d be a pretty good one on him if you sh’d—if you was to—” he rubbed up his hair, and cleared his throat. ‘ ‘S’pos ing/run over to the Center and get a license, and you and me was to get mar ried next Sunday night after meeting, same ashim? Igu ss he’d be consider able surprised.” It was Tilly Dilling ham’s figure, however, which he pic tured vividly to himself. Louise stared at him. “I s’pose it’d be pretty sudden,” the young man pursued; he was emboldened by her evident amazement and awe, and he spoke patronizingly. ‘ ‘But I’d jest as lief do it as not.” He was moved to admiration of his own magnanimity. “I’d jest as lief as not,” he repeated. Ilis listener heard him dumbly. Her mind was confused; but it was not with speculations concerning her own part in the burlesque. Her chief sensation as regarded herself was a quiet conviction that nothing would make much differ ence to her. She looked across nt this sudden suitor, in unresisting silence. “I’ll speak to your folks,’’said Lyman. He went into the kitchen, and Louise heard his voice for a brief space. “Wal, I’ll go over to the Center to morrow, said Lyman, coming back into I the sitting room and shutting the kitchen I door after him. “And I’ll come around | for you Sunday night and take you to 1 meeting. I s'pose everybody ’ll think it’s ; pretty sudden; but I’m willing, if so i you be, I s’pose you be? Your pa and mah’ain’tno objections.” “Wall” said Louise, drearily. There did not seem to be anything more to say on the subject, and Lyman ! took up his hat. He was feeling highly complacent: he had thought no further than of Tilly Dillingham’s astonished chagrin. There was an unusual attendance at “meeting” Sunday evening. There had never been a church in the small community. The two Sunday ser vices and the Friday evening prayer meeting were held in the school-house. To-night, the rough wooden seats, scratched and notched, and carved with initials were full; for everybody had heard that Biar Gillett and the girl at Buldwin’a were going to bo married at the close of the service. Lyman Baker and Louise Pinney sat together on a front bench. The voung man wss flushed and fidgety; the girls* ■ motionless. She kept her hands clasped together under her red-and-black shawl, j and the looked shriukingly toward the | W* amp irs fact coMvmmkb. r GA.. THURSDAY, JUNE 3, 1886. door; Biar Gillett and Mandy Sawyer bad not yet arrived. The minister, a mild old man with dim eyes and a feeble voice, held the lamp over his Bible while he read the text. He had preached for half a century, buf feted about from post to post and taking his bufferings meekly. Now he had found a comparative calm in the little, sparsely attended, unorganized church; he had settled into a pleasant peaceful ness. The door opened, and Biar Gillett walked in, alone. His face took on a darker tinge as he met the eyes of the congregation turned upon him iu a frank stare. _ He sat down in the nearest seat, fingering the rim of Lis hat. Louise Pinney gave a gasp. Her face grew white, and sue pressed her hands tightly together under her shawl to stop her trembling. He was alone; she was not with him; she had not come. That was all she was conscious of. She sat staring across at him; sho saw nothing else, and the words of the preacher were a vague murmur in her ears. Tlie discourse wandered on to its end. The last hymn was given out and sung through. Lyman Baker prevented the benediction by striding up the room, mounting the platform and slapping a folded paper down on the table. He was red and excited id hK was keeping an eye on Tilly Dii i “If you’ll jest uojpNK favor to ex amine that Vith an off hand air which he had acquired at the shoe-store. “Its a license,” he added,in Explanation to the gaping assembly, “and the name o’ the lady—" But Louiso had stood up, clinging tremblingly to a desk. “I can’t—l can’t!" she cried, faintly. The blood rushed back to her white face, and she sank down weakly on her seat. There was an excited hum, and then the formality of the meeting melted away. It became si social gathering— sympathetic, inquiring and judicial. A knot of women promptly surrounded Louise. They had unmediately compre hended the entire case, and they were ready to discuss and advise. Lyman Baker stood open-mouthed. “I wouldn’t urge her, I.yman,” said one of the women, [rutting into words the popular conclusion. “I guess Louise hadn’t really made up her mind. I wouldn’t do nothing more about it jest now.” Somebody brought the tin dipper with some water to Louise; but she did not take it. She got up and went to tho door, and Biar Gillett, after a moment of hesitation, followed her out. The meeting dispotsed by lingcringde grees, Lymnn Baker with the rest. He was looked upon, strangely enough, as something of a lion, and he was compos edly aware of it. He went home with Tilly Dillingham’s elder sister, as a first step in a gradual and dignified return to Tilly Dillingham herself. Louise Pinney looked *up into Biar's face as they walked along. “Ain’t you going.to marry her?” she saiiL “Wal, no,” Biar responded; “I was calculating to. I s’pose you heard we was going to be married to-night?” “Yes,” said the girl. “Wal, we was calculating to be. But her folks come home, and come over to Mis’ Baldwin’s after her, and they didn’t favor it; they thought she was purty middling young. . They took her home with ’em. I ain’t expecting to s4s her again,” he added, with some faint con ception of the tumult in the girl’s heart. “Oh, Biar!” she said. Sho wiped the happy tears off her freckled face.— Emma A. Oppcr. How a Beaver Escaped. Some time since a farmer residing in the Chehalera section found a pond made by beavers away up on the head waters of a little stream on a plateau of the mountains. He determined to cut away the beavers’ dam, drain the pond and catch the beavers. A veteran fisherman from this city was invited to participate in the expected fun. The stream from the pond was small, and fell a distance of fifty feet over a series of cascades, so it was not supposed that any trout could have ever reached the pond. The dam was cut, and as the water poured out and down the steep mountain side it was seen that there were plenty of trout going down with it. A sort of screen was made of twigs and placed in the gap for the water to run through, and in a short time 150 fine trout were captured. When the pond was drained the subterranean entrance to the beavers’ nest was found. Then mattock and shovel were brought into play, .and an attempt was made to follow the tunnel made by the beavers into the sidehill till they should be found. After proceeding some distance a beaver made a desperate effort to escape between the feet of the men who were digging, but a kick or two sent it back into its den. There appearing no prospect of reaching the end of the tunnel it was determined to set a trap in it to catch the beaver as it came out, and the digging party ad journed. On going after the beaver in the morning it was found that the saga cious and industrious animal had run out a branch from the main tunnel during the night, and in company with his whole family had departed for a more se cure retreat. When a man starts in to dig out a beaver he needs to remember liat the animal is considerably on the dig himself. —Portland Oregonian. The “King Beet.” A Washington letter to the Chicago Inter-Ocean says: I heard s good story about Floyd King, the member of Con gress from Louisiana, the other day. Last year the Agricultural Department introduced anew kind of beet which was labeled “The King Beet” because it was believed to be the monarch of that branch of the vegetable kingdom. Con gressman King was quite gratified at the selection of this name and at once saw a way to turn it to political profit. He went through the House of Representa tives and traded off all his other seeds and documents for seeds of the King Be et ancl sent a package to every farmer in his district. They all “caught on," and now live under the impression that t heir Congressman is the patroa saint of beets. A citizen of Burlington, lowa, has np. pended to his will a bequest of 9100 to the newspaper man who will write,at his death, the neatest and best obituarv no tice, hit wife t j constitute the committee of award. _ COWBOY PREACHER. THR METHODS OF LAMPASAS JAKE, OF NEW MEXICO. How he Was Converted to Religion— Compelling Men to Repent . by Main Strength—One - of His Sermons. A Farmington (New Mexico) letter to the New York Sun says: “Lampasas Jake, th# cowboy revival ist, who has had such wonderful success among the people of this section, is a tall, loose-jointed fellow, with a full beard covering sunken cheeks, a big mouth, a high forehead, and a voice that might be heard a mile if the wind was right. His mode of operations is as singular ns his whole appearance Is odd and grotesque. Without education, having an imperfect knowledge of the Bible, and holding to a great many views which would hardly ! be approved by theologians, he is never theless in dead earnest, and he exercises a power over the men of the plains which is something remarkable. He is entirely ignorant of the existence of other revival ists, has never seen or heard of Moody or Jones, and was never in a regular church iu his life. How Lampasas Jake came to take up the Gospel work is, perhaps, best de scribed in his own words: “I never had no education, gentlemen, but fifteen years ago I heard a man preach in Santa Fe on the plaza. At first I thought I’d just bust up the meeting, but after a little I made up my mind to listen. The gos peller put it down straight, and when he got through he distributed some little Bibles to the crowd. I never had no use for a Bible, but I took it and carried it about with me for years, never opening it. One day last winter when I was off on the range and didn’t have nothing to do I just pulled out the book. Although I never was much at reading I just began to spell her out, and the first thing I knew I was getting the hang of it. It took hold of me powerful. I read again and again. One n:gh‘. as I was sleeping ! I had a dream. 1 luought I was out on the range in my blankets with n cold rain beating on me. Everything was still. Pretty soon a feller in white leaned over mo and I opened my eyes. “ ‘This is a dog’s life you are leading,’ he says, ‘and it’s a dog’s death that you and the boys are going to die. Will you come out of it, or will you keep on?’ 1 was scared, but I says: “ ‘Come up where?’ ” “ ‘Up out of this here sin and wicked ness,’ says lie. ‘Every man has a call once. This is yours.’ “I rose up, and was about to say some- 1 thing further to the stranger when I noticed there want nobody there, and \ then cussing myself for dreaming, I went : to sleep again. Tho next dny, and for a month after that, I kept thinking about! the call. -That was a mighty strange thing,’ says Ito myself. ‘Somebody lias got Lamp ism Jake on the string. There’s sperrits after me. I got a little shaky, but after a while I remembered that I once had a mother—l had about forgot ten it—-and I says to myself, ‘lf anybody's bothering themselves about me I know who it is. That call meant busincis. If it wan’t my mother, it was somebody that she sent.’ “One night early last spring I had an other dream. I thought I was in liell. A big devil opened the lid and wanted to know if I wanted to see anybody in par- ! ticular. I said: ‘Yes; Texas Billings and Reddy Jones.’ He took a lariat and gave it a whizz, and a moment later he hauled them up. Just as they came out they began to abuse mo for not telling them what I had heard and seen, and Reddy reached for his gun, and groanc 1 when he found he didn’t have it. The next morning I was in a terrible frame of mind, and after trying to think of every thing else and failing, I sank On the ground and cried out to the Lord to for give me. I howled for more’n an hour before it came to me, but it did com", and I began to preach right there. I got the boys together, and I gave it to them. First they laughed. Then they got mad. Then I licked two of them. Then I got them down on their knees and I made every one of them howl just as I had. I’ve been preaching almost a year, but I never had a better meeting than that same. I brought the whole camp in, and the boys have stuck to it ever since, and so have I. That range is one of the quietest and best in the Territory now, and not a man has been shot there since I took hold.” r Jake preaches nothing but repentance and salvation. He lives olf the country, he says. ‘He takes Up no collections nncl he asks few favors. He goes well armed and never lays aside his weapons, even when preaching. He has fights frequent ly, and he sometimes brings men to re pentance by main strength. Wherever he finds three or four cowboys, gamblers, rustlers, Or adventurers, he begins his services. “I’m going to speak to you fellers about your everlasting souls,” he will say, “and while I am at it I want you to keep quiet. This is a free country and every man has got a right to have his say. I'm going to have mine now.” If anybody mani'ests a disposition to deny this right Jake becomes militant at once, and as he has the reputation of be ing one of the quickest men in the Ter ritory he usually carries bis point. Going into one of the hardest of the numerous hard saloons in this place the other night Jake mounted a chair and commanded silence. The games and the drinking came to an end and about twen ty men, young and old, looked up. One fellow undertook to edge out, but Jake stopped him. “-Vo you don't, mister,” he said, point ing his finger at him. “No you don't. When you get to hell you’ll have chances enough to come a sneak on somebody, but you can’t do it here.” Then, straight ening himself up, he yelled in a voice that made things creak: “How many of you’s ready to die now with your boots on? Where’d you be to breakfast? Don’t any of you drunken, swearing, fighting b'a*ph’eming, gam bling, thieving, tin horn, ceiUiu paint ex terminating galoots look at me ugly, be cause I know ye. I've beeu through the drive. You are all in your sins. You know a fat, well-fed, woll-carcd-for, thoroughly branded steer when you see one, and you can tell whose it is and where it belongs There's a man that owns it. Thsr?'s a place for it to go. There's a law to protect it. ifuttbe Mav erirk—who’s is that! You're all Maver icks and worse. Tke Maverick has no brand on him. He goes hollering about until aomebody takes him in ana clap* the branding-'iron on him. But you whelps, you’ve got the devil’s brand on you. You’ve got his lsriat about you. He lets you have rope now, but he’ll haul you in when he wants firewood. “Just you get down on your knees here now and yell. That’s right; all of you down. Won't do it. eh? Well, you will get down. That’s right. Now you yell. Cry out for help like a Texas steer in snow. That ain’t a marker! More on’t! More on ’t! That’s some | thing like! There’s the devil's drive and I the Lord’s drive. There’s the devil's trail | and the Lord's trail. There’s the range i of hell, where the grass is brimstone and i the water is tire, and the range of heaven, where the grass is knee high and sweet ; with posies, and the water is as clear as | the sky. There's the Lord for the boss, with His everlasting arms reaching out j for all us poor Mavcracks, for the hungry and thirsty, for the beef critter thet’s only a shudder, for the wee lamb and the crippled old buck. But you’ve got to bloat. There’s the devil with his yoke and lariat, with his fork and his spit, with his cruel laugh, and his legion of hellions anxious to come a sneak on you. Which is it, you miserable sinners? Is it devils or angels? “Keep down there, every one of you, till I get through. I know what you’ll say when you get out of here. You’ll say Jake is teched. You dassent say it now. You’ll say that the good Lord don’t care for us. You dassent say it now. But, bless the Lord, there is a way for you to put on righteousness. You can get yourself in condition. You can make your hides slick. Thero is the grass of salvation that is green all the year round. You can eat of it, and you’ll make flesh from the word go. You con refuse it, and you’ll grow poor and mis erable tdl your old hidei will flap on your bones like a bed quilt on a ridge pole.” When Jake passed out the drinking and gambling were resumed, but with less boisterousness. lie has followers, and he promises to stay by the boys until they all come into the fold. Orange Culture in Floridn. Tho orange groves in Florida, says an exchange, were few and far between fifty-five years ago, and they wero not at that early dny a source of profit to their owners. Some of the trees were very nged. Mr.. Bowden, at Mandarin, owned one in 1835 which was said to be seventy five years old. That year 7,000 oranges were picked from it. Another tree in St. Augustine was supposed to be a hun dred years old. But these trees were killed to the ground by the great freeze jof 1835. Mrs. Hall, on the St. John’s, j not far from Jacksonville, nt that time had seventy-two treason three fourth*of an acre, iu scattering form. The year . before her crop had sold for $3,000. They were killed root and branch by tho ! great frost. After this frost for a few years nil orange culture was abandoned, "but in 1838, ’3O and ’4O a wide-spread orange “craze” broke out all along tho lower St. John’s, and many groves were set out. A Mr. Robertson, near Mandarin, put distanced his neigh bors and imported his trees, and with them he also imported the scale insect. This small creature soon made itself at home spread from point to point until it completely killed the orange fever. Mr. Robertson tried all manner of experi ments to rid himself of the pest, and ■ finally killed his trees by the application of aqua fortis. Most of the groves started at this time were given up to the insect and abandoned in disgust. One of these abandoned groves was purchased in 1856 ! by Colonel Hart, who enme an invalid to 1 Florida to die, though he has not yet ac | complished the object. In 185(1 a visitor i described the Hart grove as being deso late enough in appearance. It was un fenced, had long been deserted to the in sect and looked as if it had been burned through by fire. The trees however, weic fine old stumps, just putting out a few sprouts, and it is to-day the most noted of the St. John’s river groves, j From that day to the present there lias i never been a frost sufficiently severe to ! kill full-grown trees or to have any ap- I preciable effect upon the insect. A Dnde’s Mishap. He was tall, slender and elegant. He stood posing on the platform as the train approached, a cane of the pipe-stem va riety in his kid-gloved hand. Very pic turesque and altogether lovely he looked as he pushea forward his patent leather shoe und approached the car platform. Bang went the car gate shut; snap went the cane half in two as it was caught in the flying gate. But the nice young man did not notice the distressing accident, and, with the wreck of his stick still under his arm, he sauntered in approved form half Way down the aisle. There were some vacant seats at the fur ther end of the car, but the young man put his eye on a couple of bright-eyed girls forward, and he came to a stand still, immediately before them. Never was the “mash" act undertaken in mors elaborate style. He twirls his mustache with his left hand, and, with a little flourish of liis right, sets the cane behind h:m. He will lean on it, and his coun tenance is most complacent as he thinks of the taking attitude he plans. Alas, for the hopes of human kind! The cane isn't what he thinks it is. Down, down, down he gors, his shoulder followiug th 2 cane point. Smash! crash! a nice young man lies sprawling at full length in the car. Young women giggle, and the'r giggling isn't masked. A long tailed coat, tightly buttoned, is split up the back; a shiny beaver hat lies a dozen feet away, crumpled and dented. It is altogether a sael sight—but still the young women giggle. The young man gets up, he discovers the hat, he up braids the brake man, nnd darts out of the car at the very next station. “I’ll report you to Colonel Huin,” yells the broken-up exquisite to the brakeman as the train rolls on. “I’ll report you to Colonel Hain and have you discharged. — j \eu> York Times. The Japanese cats’-eyes, which urs now fnshionub!o ornaments, are the pol ished hinge, or thick knob at the hinge, j of the pearl oyster. The title “Executive Munsion” was in- ' troduoed iu 1873. The proper designa tion is “the President's house.” OIE DOLLAR Per Annum, la as the MILKM A ID AND the banker. A milkmaid, with a r*rv pretty fee*, Who lived at Acton, Had a black cow, th* ugliest ia the place— A crooked-bach’d one; A beast as dangerous, too, a* (h* wa* fright ful, Vicious and spiteful; And so confirmed a truant that s' l - bounded Over the hedges daily, and got pounded. •Twns all in vain to tie her with a tether. For then both cord and cow eloped together Arm’d with an oaken bough (what folly 1 It should have been of birch, or thorn, or holly), Fatty one day was driving home the beast Which had, as usual, slipp'd it’s anchor, When on the road she met a certain banker, Who stopped to give his eyes a feast By gazing on her features, crimson’d high > By a long cow chase in July. “Are you from Acton, pretty lass?’ he criei; “Yes,” with a curtasy, she replied. “Why, then you know the laundress, Sail is Whirl r “She is my cousin, air, and next-door neigh bor,” “That’s lucky; I’ve a message for the girl Which needs despatch, and you may save my labor. Give her this kiss, my dear, and say I sent it; But mind you owe me one—l’ve only lent it.” “She shall know," cried the girl, as she brandished her bough, “Of the loving intentions you bore me; i But as to the kiss, if there's haste, you’ll al low That you'd better run forward and give it my cow; For she, at the rate she is scampering now, Will reach Acton some minutes before me. PITH AND POINT. ! The lines that tailors hang clothes on —Mascu-lines. A young girl who has had both afflic tions, snys that a broken pocketbook is worse than a broken heart. —Philadelphia Uerald. Judging from the great number of strikers, it would seem that somebody supposes the iron to be hot. —Philadelphia Ledger. Pen, ink, and paper and brains arc tho only things requisite to literary success; and almost anybody can get the pen,ink, and paper. —Somerville Journal. “Why does a mustard plaster heat a kiss?” i Said little Johnny Toddle to his sister, “Because you seo a kiss is simply bliss, While mustard plasters, don't you know, are blister.” —Dansville Breeze. Yes, it is true that pepper is used in some eastern countries as a circulating medium, but you are in error in thinking the place where it is made is called the pepper-mint.— Tid-Bits. One by one the old landmarks are passing away. Manistee, Mich., has an orchestra that does not contain a bald headed mnn. It is composed of young women. —Chicago Ledger. THE DRAWBACKS OF LIFE. There is no kitchen girl, however able, >j Outbreaks the crockery ware; There is no butter placed upon the table But has its lock of hair. —Boston Courier. In reply to the New England lecturer who asks, “What does a man owe his neighbors?” we oan say only that it de pends on whether his wife is one of those women who are always running over to the next house to borrow a cun of sugar, or an egg, or a wad of lard. —Chicago News. She gave me in April a copy of Gibbon; , In August, a trifle of gay-colored ribbon Slipped out from her hair, with a sweet scented flower That bloomed at her bosom, the toy of an hour. And even so late as the fifth of September ▲ blush and a kiss, if I rightly remember. But O, the finale! when hopelessly smitten, I asked her to marry, she gave me the mit ten! A Ban Francisco family recently en gaged a young girl from the East who advertised that she had been “four years in her last place." The family subse quently learned that she would have re mained longer than four years in her last Slace if the governor had not pardoned er when he did. what is IT? What is soul food? is a question j Asked by weighty sages Whose apparatus for digestion Beef each day assuages It is in the most of cases Country editors’ diet; And, at many times and places, Poets also try it -Tid-Bits. WORDS OF WISDOM. Too much importance is seL-impor tance. You may cheat others now, but your self also in the long run. What man is deficient of in sense he naturally makes up in mulishness. Nature is frank, and will aljow no man to abuse himself without giving him a hint of it. To do one work well, or to be careful in doing it, are as much different as working hard is from being idle. In writing a? well as speaking, one great secret of effective eloquence is to say what is proper and stop when you have done.— Colion. Too many young men believe. that “the world owes every man a living,” and that it requires no effort on man's part to make the collection. Much of the world is prejudiced against facts, because facts stick to the text and don't go out of the way to concoct a palatable medium for the world’s own genteel taste and wise opinions. No matter how low down man may get, there is not more than one in every one hundred of them but will prove true to a small trust if his pride be strength ened by your seeming faith in him. If we must know the right in order to do it, it is equally needful that we do it in order to know it. The habit of prompt and unquestioning obedience to what ever appeals to us ai a duty puts us into the very best condition for learning more and higher truths. To be flattered is grateful, even when we know that our praises are not be lieved by those who pronounce them; for they’prove at least our power, and show that our favor is valued, since it is purchased 'f- the meanness of false hood. NO. 12.