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VOL. XII. ELLIJAY COURIER, PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY —*T— COLEMAN * KIRBY. 19* Office in the Court House 7g^weralTdirectory. Superior Court meets 3d Monday in May and 2nd Monday in October. county officers. J. C. Allen,.Ordinary. . T. W. Craigo, Clerk Superior Court. M. L. Cox, Sheriff. J. R. Kinciad. Tax Collector. Locke Langley, Tax Receiver. Jas. M. West, Sun%yor. G. W. Rice, Coroner. Court of Ordinary meets Ist Monday in each month. TOWN COUNCIL. .. E. W. Coleman, Tutendant. L. B. Greer, 1 J.ROofcr. Commissioners. T. J, Long, J M. T. Dooly, Marshall. RELIGIOUS SERVICES. Methodist Episcopal Church South— Every 4th Sunday and Saturday before, G. W. Grier. Baptist Church—Every 2nd Saturday and Sunday, by Rev. E; B. Shope. Methodist Episcopal Church—Every Ist Saturday and Sunday, by Rev. T. G. Chase. FRATERNAL RECORD. Oak‘Bo wery Lodge, No. 81, F. A. M., meets Ist Friday in each month. L. B. Greer, W. M. T. H. Tabor, S. W. J. W. Hipp, J. W. R. Z. Roberts, Treasurer. •-' ■* J). Garrcn.S ecretary. W. 8. Coleman, S. D. W. C. Allen, J. D. S. Garren, Tyler. r. thickens, ATTORNEY AT LAW, ELLIJAY, GEORGIA. Will practice.in nil the conrts of Gil mer and adjoining counties. Estates and interest in land a specialty. Prompt attention given to all collections. ■■ , ■ 10-21 85 DR. J. B. JOHNSON, Physician and Surgeon ELLIJAY, GEORGIA. Tenders his professional services to the people-of Gilmer anti , stirrottnding, coup ties-and asks the support of his .friends as heretofore. All calls promptly filled. E. W. COLEMAN, ATTORNEY AT LAW, ELLIJAY, GA. • • Will practice in Blua Ridge Circnit, County Court Justice Court of Cilnier County. Legal bnsineu solicited. “ProDptnesa" is our motto. DR. J. S. TANKERSLEY, Physician and Snrgeon, TeiicV vs his professional to the citi EUijay, and surrounding caun *ies. AH calls promptly attend -d to. Office opatair's over tlietan -pf Cobb A Son. <tIFE WALDO THORNTON, D.D.B. Dentist, CAI.IiOCIf, GA. Will visit Ellijay and Morgan ton at both the Spring and Fall term of the Superior Court—and oftener by special contract, when sufficient work is guar anteed to justify me in Baking the visit. Address as above. TmavUl-li Young men Who wish a Xhobodoh preparation for Business, will find Superior advantagesal MOOBE’S BUSINESS UNIVEESITY ATLAN XA, GA. ’ The largest and best Practical Business School in the Sooth. WStadtnis canpnter at any time. 1 for eir-ulv.a.. .- ; WHITE PATH SPRINGS! —THE— Favorite and Popular Reeort of NORTH GEORGIA! Is situated' 6 miles north of ’Ellijay on the Marietta & North Georgia Railroad. Accommodations complete, facilities for ease- and comfort -unexcelled, and the magnificent Mineial Spring* is its chief attraction. For other particulars on board, etc., address, , . . t Mrs. W. E. Robrutsom, Ellijay, Go. CENTRAL HOTEL! Ellijay, Georgia. • - . ; ■ .* * In. the special popular reeort for commercisl men and tourists of all land, and is the general house for prompt attention, elegant rooms and are second to none, in this place. Beasonaßle rates. ‘ _ Mrs. It Y. TMm will edre her personal at tentton to guest* in the dining hah. 1-R Moimtam View Hotel! IULIJAY.GA. '■us.Hetsl is bow fitted up in mm) lent order, and is open for the reception of gueeta, under competent management. Breiy poerible effort wUI Ije mad# M make tfcaMountsiii VW the aeat pop* Unr Hotel in BUtyay. AooMtmndetionvii ermrf&fmWm* firet-oiees. Livery, w*t and feed rtshUrdn, hop section with hotel. Ouwta tnaaferetKo find from all trains free of eherge. * • fitly THE ELLIJAY COURIER the;shadow on our lives. Is the deuce and leafy woodland. From each lofty tree-top down. Flecked with dashes of the sunlight, Falls the shadow cool and brown. But how different is the Shadow Which our soul of light deprive* Different far the many shadows Never lilted from our lives. When our life Is young and buoyant. When our hopes are high and strong, Then beware the thoughtless errors That are something less than wrong; For, though each may be a trifle. Asa shadow it survives; And we never throng endeavor Lift that shadow from our Uries. Words, in careless moments uttered, And by usTorgotteu soon. Grow with those whose hearts are wounded As the freshets swell in June; More than burthens they may crash us, They may gall us more than gyve Strive we e’er so much we never Lift the shadows on our lives. Some neglect of bounden dut’ But a trifle at a time, Merely discord in the music, Merely error in the rhyme— Worse than whips some day may lash us, Or may wound us worse than knives, And our deep remorse shall never Lift that shadow from our lives. Come there ever so much sunlight On our latter manhood’s days; Though the glory of our fortunes In its utmost brilliance blase; Though the world around us wonde Asea h lofty purpose thrives, Sadness fills us that we never Lift the shadow from our lives. When, oflr life’s day nearly ended, Comes the setting of its sun, Though the crimson, gild and purple Of a sunset sky be won; Though we close the day in honor, Heroes even to our wives, Yet, this glow expiring never Lifts the shadow from our lives. When our sunset fades to twilight, And the final hour is here; When the world around is passing, And the world to come is near; Then our memories throng around us As the flesh with spirit strives, And we never, never, never Lift their shadows from our lives. —Thomas Dunn English , in Independent. A FOKTTOATE MISTAKE The train toGilcad Fails was late upon that particular Monday afternoon, and as a natural consequence thereof, the stage-coach to Gilead Gorge was an hour behind time. “Once you Ipse five minutes, and there'll be plenty o’ set-backs to make it ten,” as Reubeu Dolly, the stage-driver, ironcally remarked, as he piled up the trunks on the baggage-wagon that was to go on ijrst. “This ere’s for Fullers Farm,” said he, “and all the rest for •the View Hotel. Now lack out, you!” to the boy in charge, “and don’t go to tippin' the bags and bandboxes down the side of the mountain.” “Guess I’ve driv’on these ’ere roads afore,” said Simon Saqkett, the long legged young Jehu, . “Yes, but there's some people as don't never learn wisdom by experience,” said Reuben, as he rolled up the leather cur tains of the stage-coach, and fastened them with a rusty buckle. And when the baggage-wagon reached, the Gorge, the trunks and boxes were all shaken into such an undistinguish able confusion that .‘•imon'dld not know one from another. ' “Thera’s two Mrs. John Joneses,"said he. “Jne on ’em* to go to’the hotel, and ’tother to Fuller’s Karin. Now.which is which? That’s what-Id like •to know.” ’ ... Hariy Fuller, who was waiting at the cross-roads, with 1 wagon, speedily settled the question. “Why, this big trunk goes to the ho tel, of course,” said he. “Jur Mrs.. John Jones is a dressmaker,' 'coming here for two weeks’ jest. . .’Taint likely she’d travel with i a, trunk .as big as Noah’s Ark, is it? .Keel in the little one,' quick?” So that when Mrs. John Jones herself reaehed the cross-roads, she vefy natur ally entered the sanie equipage that con tained her trunk. - - j , She was a little woman,- with cheeks Which still retained a youthful freshness; yellow, rippling hair and timid.blue eyes; and she was dressed in inexpensive black, covered all over with a linen •duater. Harry Fuller glanced at her With a sidewise regard as-he-whipped up his fat, and medititive -horse.. , ... “I don’t qujte know how you’ll like it,” said he, “but our folks have changed. 1 your room.” “Changed my room?” said the-boarder, glancing in juiringiy at him. "You sec, After we settled you were to have the front bed-reom,” he explained,. “my mother got a letter from Mr: Lef tom Mrs.. Lefton used to work in the j factory here years ugo; but she married a city lawyer, and now there isn’t any thing quite good enough for her- And ■they wanted my mother to give them three Communicating" rooms; and 'so mother thought: you wouldn ! t mind the little room, over the kitchen." City boarders mostly . spend all their tame out doors, you know.: and it isn’t so very hot after the supper fire has gone out.” •Mrs. John Jones was silent, j “I told mother she oughtn't to do it,” Mid the young farmer ; “but Mrs. Lef-! ton. would hare that room. And mother | thought she could explain it all to you i when you came. And the room will be ' fifty cents a week less.” “Gii!” sold Mrs. John Jones. “Fuller’s farm was a long, low, strag gling building, shaded by ancient elms. . and possessing* peaked roof and chim ney-stack -which' would have -delighted the soul of an artist Old Mrs. Fuller bustled to receive her guests. The tea hour was already past, hut there. war a howl of milk and a heap ing saucer <|f red raspberries on the table, and the little <arthen-ware teapot still simmered on the beck of the stove in a hospitable way. “1 Lev to be Un-tful ceremonious with the Leftortt” aid Mrs. Fuller; “but I can and i 'most as A pleas# with you, Mrs. I .loaes!"' "j map op bust line-its wluotvanom^tso its vast concerns." ELLIJAY. GA.. THURSDAY, MARCH 31. 188?. And aa Mrs. Jones tipped her cup of tea, and crumbled delicious home-made bread into her bowl of milk, the could hear, an animated conversation going on in the kitchen beyond, between the old lady and her son. “It’s all nonsense, Henry l’’ said Mrs. Fuller, who, being a little deaf, did not always consider now loud she spoke. “What! you to give up your room, and go out to the barn-chamber? Hoity toity! Ain't the kitchen bed-room good enough for a dressmaker?” “Hush, mother! She is a real lady, I tell you,” responded Harry. • “Fiddlesticks!” ssid Mrs. Fuller. “And I am sure the kitchen bed-foom wouldn’t suit her,” pursued Harry. “Mother, it is too small and too warm. And if.you will fix up mine for her, I would just as soon sleep in the barn these aril try nights." “Oh, pshaw!” said Mrs. Fuller. “Dressmaker hadn’t ought to give themselves airs. And Mrs. Lefton was dreadful annoyed, when she heard I was going to take a working-woman in to board. .She wouldn’t ha’ come if she’d ha’ knowed it, she said.” ■ “Then I should advise her to stay away,” observed Harry Fuller, with some emphasis. “But you will make this arrangement, ' mother, won’t you? To please me!” And he took up the empty milking pail and went out. Mrs. John Jones smiled to herself. “So I have a champiou already?” she thought. Harry Fuller’s vacated room, albeit it was in the high peak of the roof, was a great Improvement on the hot little hole oVer the kitchen which had been in tended for “theboarder.” It was large and airy, and commanded a fine view of the Sound, and there was a snug little corner closet for. her dresses, and a big, old-fashioned, claw-legged ‘bureau for her laces and collars. “I don’t think I could have been more pleasantly accommodated at the’ Yiew Hotel,” thought she. Mrs. Lefton, a fat, purple-faced woman _in a rainbow-tinted grenadine gown, and diamond rings up to the knuckles of her pudgy hands, turned up her nose immensely at the new boarder. “It’s very unfortunate that woman coming here just now,” she said. ' ‘Lefton is so particular About the folks that I associate with. But perhaps since it can’t be helped she enn show me how to alter over Marietta's black tissue dress that the French madam spoiled. I’d be willing to pay her half price for helping me.” Mrs. Jones, however, gently declined Mrs. Lefton’s patronizing offer. “I am here for rest and recreation, not for work, ” she said. “I have a Parisian pattern which I will willingly lend yon; but for the rest I must beg to be ex cused.” “Btuck-up thing!” said Mrs. Lefton. “She can go walking,with the children, Mrs. Fiiller, and mint for maiden-liair ferns with yourJHaro’ k*lf Jhe day. hut she caiTt go to work to earn a stray penny. I’ve no patience with such up starts that are above their business.” “She seems very ladylike,” said old Mrs. Fuller. “It’s because she copies the airs and traces of fine folks that come in to be tted at her Missus’ place,” said -Mrs. Lefton, violently fanning herself. Even while this vehement colloquy was going on at the house, Olivia Jones was sitting on a fallen log in the black berry pasture,' with Harry Fuller leaning with folded arms against a thorn-apple .tree close behind her. “But I really meant it, Mrs. Jones,” said he, earnestly. “That'sall nonsense,” said the widow, naif-smiling. “How can you mean it, when you have only known me for ten days?” ‘ I A week or a month can make no dif ference to me,” persisted he. “I love you, Mrt. Jones. 'I can’t bear to see you ground" "down and 'insiilted by women like jthat . Mriu. Lefton. I’m only a far mer, I know, but I’ve a half-share in this place, with all its surrounding land, and the sawmill on Gilead River; and if voii’H trust yourself to me, you shall never know what want or trouble is. Mrs.,Jones—Olivia —won’t you give me a word of hope?” “Would' you marry—a mere dressma ker?”' “I would marry you, Olivia, in a sec ond, if you would only sav the word.” . “But, Harry—” He took her hand in his.- r “It's all right,now, Olivia,’’-said he, with sparkling "eyes. “If you did not care for me you woiikl not have called me Harry in that tone.” And that was the way in which they became engaged. • Mrs. Fuller was electrified - when-she ■ heard of it. “You, Henry,” she cried, “that might hev married Amanda Plumb, or even Mrs. I.efton’s darter. Marietta, to take up with a dressmakin’ women, who—” Just then-their caole a tap at the door. A little, wrinkled-faced person stood there, in a crumpled hat aud widow’s veil,-with a capacious trunk, wheeled on a wheelbarrow by a boy behind her. . “Mrs. Fuller?” said this personage, whose general appearance reminded one of a badly-rolled parce'. ■ “Yes,” said-the farmer's wife. . “But I don’t know who you are!” “Mrs. John Jones,” explained .the stranger—‘..‘the lady as engaged, your sec ond floor front. In 'the dress-making business. There’s been some mistake, and my trunk was renf *<m to the View Hotel,-and' some other person was sent here. I was unexpectedly detained by old Mrs. Mopson’s funeral orders, and I’ve just discovered the blunder.” Mtß. Fuller stared until her spectacle glasses assumed the proportions of two moons. “If you’re the dressmaker that drove the bargain with me by letter,” said she, “then who if this Mrs. Jones.” The yeliow-tressed widow smilingly spoke u*p. “Cnly a usurper, Mrs. Fuller,’’ snid she. “I had engaged a -uit of rooms at the' View Hotel, but circumstances drifted me here instead: and I don't re gret it, on the whole.” She put her hand inside Harry's arm u the spoke. > * “My star*f” cried the astounded Mrs. Lefton, “then you are the rich Mrs. John Jones, who was coming to the hotel—the lady that owns half the West India Island* " "Not quite o bad is that," said Mrs. Jones, smiling. “Hut I cannot call my. aelf poor, especially tinea I have been fortunate enough to win an honeat man's love." And when old Mrs. Fuller related thia story, as she often did, she always capped the climax by saying, com placently : “So our Harry was a fortune hunter after all, only he didn’t know it.”— Saturday Night. T '■ Jnckson and the Old Postmaster. One of the most delightful' of racon teurs tells this interesting story concern ing Andrew Jackson; A General in the Revolutionary war, who was well known to Jackson, was Postmaster of a promi nent New York town, lie had been an Adams man, and Silas \Vright, oue of the ablest representatives that State ever, had, and Martin t*an Buren, who was then Jackson's Secretary of State, formed a coalition to have tlm veteran warrior removed soon after .lacksou had taken the oath of office. ‘,Thc senrred hero do termined to go to see Jnckson and plead his own cause against ttye powerful poli ticians who had &termir.ed to punish him for -his. dvd|acy of Adams. He called upon Jackson at the White House. The President engaged in familiar con versation with hint, when, to his amaze ment, the old soldier said: “Gen. Jackson, I have rouie here tc talk to you about my<>tfico: the politi cians w ant to take It away' from uje and I have nothing else to live upon.” The President wo reply till the aged Postmaster tjpgau to take oil his coat, in the most manner, when GW Hickory broke out with the inquiry; “What in HeayecV, name are you going to dot” “Well, air, I am going to show you my wounds, whjchM*reocived lightiug for my country against the English.” .“Put it on at one#,- sir!” was the reply. “I am surprised thKt a man of your age should make such An exhibition of him self,” and the eyes of the Iron President were suffused with tears as without an other word he badehis ancient foe good evening. The nejrt • day Wright called upon the. President and made out hiu case against tho General and urged his removal upon the strongest grounds. He had hardly finished ihe last sentence when Jack-on sprang; to his feet. Hung his pipp into tlA’lfire, and exclaimed with great vehemeabe: “Itake tho consent jtecs, sir. I take the consequences. ByEternal! I will not remove the old njmi. 1 cannot re move him. Why,- Mr. Wright, do you know that he oariiSk mere than a p .mud of British lead in his body?” That w.'.s the la-.h-ofit. He who was stronger than courts, rourtier-, or Cabi nets pronounced hishlat, and the happy old Postmaster next day took the stage and returned home rejoicing. Washing ton Mter. Queer Funeral! of nu Epicurean. A funeral of an extraordinary charac ter took place the Other day in York shire, when .1; S. 'Broderick, a well known follower ofEpieurii-*, of Hawes, -in North- YorksWlw,' rivas buried. The interment took placo in the deceased gentleman's own land, at Spring l-'nd,on the top of -n hill. Mr. Broderick, who bjlieved in the transmigration of souls, had directed that no minister of religion should attend his burial, aud that no re ligious ceremony of aiiy kind should be performed overhia remains The uaeral, therefore, was almost of a unique de scription. The procession hud to pass over t-tagefall, one of the spurs of the Pennine range, and as the rojjd was blocked, in places over twelve feet deep with show drifts the mourner* had a most difficult ta*k. The immediate place of sepulchre was \ery ' rocky. It had been chosen by the deceased gentleman, and blasting operations had to be car ried on during the whole of Sunday and Monday to complete the grave, which is nearly twenty feet below the surface. Handy Interest Rules. '1 he a swer in each case being in cents, separate the two right-hand tig ures of the answer to express in dollars and cents Four percent.—Multiply the principal by the number of days to run, separate right-handi.figure from the product, and 'divide by nine. Five per cent.—Multiply the number of days and divide by seventy-two. Six per cent. —Multiply the number of days, separate right-hand figure, and di vide by six. Fight per cent.—Multiply by number •of days and divide by forty-five Nine per cent.—Multiply by number of days, separate right-hand figure, and divide by foui. - . Ten per cent.—Multiply by number of days and divide by.thjrty-five. Twelve per cent.'—Midtiply by numbet of days, separate right-hand figure, and divide by three. Shaving With a Finn ice Stone. “Ever hear of a man shaving himself with a pumice stone?” asked an Ogden' avenue barber yest rday. “There is a carpeuter*over here on .;ane street who has not toadied hia skm with a razor for -six months, yet his 1 face is always as smooth as a woman's. Three times a week lie sits down upon the bench in his shop, and with a piece of pumice stone held lightly between his index finger and thumb, he will slowly rasp the stubble oil his chin and chops, lie says that he can slfavt himself in in half the time it would require him with a ra zor. Talk about there being any money in a barber shop! It’s all bosh. It won’t be long before men will be shaving themselves with spoi t a and cutting their hair with "an egg beater.” „ Origin of the Fig Tull. The wearing of the queue was imposed upon the Chinese by their Tartar con querors. about the yeor 1052 A. I). Be tore that time the hair was allowed to grow long and thick, and was fastened in a knot at the top of the head. Much as they hated the queue, the Chinese dread fta loss, for th: shrewd Tartan made the cutting off of it the punish ment for the most disgraceful crimes, uid its - absence, like the cropped ears during the middle ages in Europe, was the mark of a rogue. Ben: Ferley Poore thinks General < - runt was never happier in his life than when, cheered by bis young wife, he farmed sixty acres, labored in the fields, chopped wood at “llardeerabbie,” hauled it to Kt Louis end sold it for |t a cord. BUDGET, OF FUN. HUMOROUS SKETCHES FROM - - VARIOUS SOURCES., He Could Sing—A Fortunate Acci dent—Terms Cash —A Mighty Griocl >:ail— Here’s the , Soup, Etc., Etc. “Now. Mr. Nibson, yon must sing for us,” said Miss Feathertop, “and I am sure you- will sing something to oblige us.” “Of course I will—always willing to oblige. Just ask the company to pass out quietly, please.” “Pass out quietly! What do you mean-' by that?” “It is better so. Miss Feathertop, as it prevents them from stamped ing t and breaking the furniture when I begin to sing.” A Fortunate Accident. The sound of breaking gloss was heard through the dining-room. “What is -it, Joseph! Have you broken another goblet?” “Yes, but I was real fortunate this time: it only broke in two pieces. ” “You call that being ‘fortunate,’ do you?” “Yes; madame can’t imagine what a bother it is to pick them up when a glass breaks into a thousand pieces.”—-TV*? Bits. Terms Cash. “No use I” called the Greenfield farmer to the youpg man who was tramping across his farm with a gun on his shoul der. 9 “Hey! Speak to me?” “Yes, I said it was no use coming around here any more. The old cat is dead.” “I didn't waut your cat.” “Oh, then you know a cat from a rab bit? ’Scuse my mistake, but I took you fur one o’ them Detroit fellers. You can go ahead, but every time you shoot at one of my calves fur a b’ar it will cost you $5, and you’ll see a sign of ‘No . Trust’ nailed on the barn.”— Detroit Free Press. A Mighty Good Sail. Old Captain- Starbuck, of Nantucket, a philosophical old sea dog, never per mitted ill-luck to dampen his faith or his. ' good spirits. Returning home from a three years’ whaling voyage, with an empty hold, he was boarded by the pilot, an old acquaintance, who asked : “Waal, Cap’n Starbuck, how many bar'ls? Had a good voyage?” “Not ’/actly,” responded the Captain; “I haiut got a bar’l of ile aboard, but I’ll tell ye, I've had a mighty good sail.” — Ben: Perteg Poore. “Here’s the Soup!” "nmire. MioEsfu raivaihoYeai, ing in “Lucia di Lammormoor” in Mar seilles. The cantatrice had ordered a restaurant keeper to send her a basin of hot soup at U o’clock. The hour came, and with it a girl carrying the star’s re freshments. The girl made at once for the stage, and arrived at the wings as madam was singing in the finale to the first act. The next moment lia venswood and Lucia were astonished' by a soup-tureen being set down on the faiossy bank in front of the fountain, the cover lifted, and the intruder addressing them, as she plunged a spoon in the aoup, with: “Begging your pardon, sir, lor interrupting you and the lady, but here’s the soup. ” A Scot's Device. It is related of a successful Glasgow merchant that, sight-seeing in Paris once, he lost his way. For a consider able time he wandered about trying "to find his way back. It got late, lie could speak no French, and bis Glasgow-Eng lish only brought a smile and a shake of the head. "O for a body wi‘ a guid Scolch tongue in their head,” he sighed. Then came a “happy thought.” By signs he bought the basket, measure, and berries of a trim Frcach woman, and, shouldering the stock in-trade, went along the streets yelling: “Fine grossetts, a bawbee the pint; tine grossetts, a bawbee the-pint.” The crowd laughed at the mad BritoD, but the familiar cry soon brought some Scotsmen on the scene, and the merchant was able to retire from business, and smoke his pipe in< the 1 bosom of his family, thankful that'hc had -found leal Scotsmen in his hour of need. 1.. Not. That John. He was having his fortune told. “I see,” said the medium, contracting ter eyebrows and turning her toes in, “I see the name of John!” “Yes,” said the sitter, indicating that be had beard the nanie before. “The name seems, to have given you a groat deal of trouble. •“It has." “This John is an intimate friend. “That's so,” he said, wonderingly. ‘‘And often leads you to do things you ire sorry fer.” , “True: every word. ” “.His influence over you is bad ‘‘Right again.” * “But.you will soon have a serious quarrel, when you will become' es tranged.” “I’m glad of that. Now spell out his whole name.” The “meejum” opened one eye and studied the face of her-sitter. Then she wrote some cabalistic words aud banded it to him in exchange for her fee. ‘ ‘Do not read it until you are at home, ” she said solemnly. “It is your friend’s wholes name.” Whan he reached home he lit the gas and gravely examined the pnper. There be read in picket-fence characters, the name of his “friend :” “Demi-John!” —Detroit Free Frees. Pleasant fer the Critic. You know the man who always wants your opinion of him or something he's done, the candid truth, and then quar rels with -you for giving it to him. He has various methods, but this is one of the neatest I’ve ever heard for a long time for a judicious hint. A celebrated artist in New York bad just finished a picture. Artists don't Ilka so be adver viard. It Is for love of art they paint, and they are hurt if their name gets into the newspaper* favorably. That, how ever is a univerattl falling The picture had been on show in his studio-in-a pri vate way, and the painter called upon the art critic of a big New York daily, an old friend of his. He found him very glad to see him, of course. “I want you to come and take a look at my new picture,” ssid he. “It’s just finished.” ... “I’ll be delighted, certainly.”. “I’ve only one thing to ask. We’ve been'-close "friends for years,-and,-of course, that may influences you. But I ’ don’t want it to. I want you to lay aside all recollection of our friendship; look upon me simply as a painter,-who has painted a -picture. I want you to come to my studio, and givo me a cool blooded criticism of the work. I’ve just licked one fellow who said he didn’t like it.” —San b'anHeo Chronicle. -, Making a Horse Laugh. “Bet you a dollar 1 can make that horse laugh,” said a man with a white hat as he patted a demure-lookiUg beast on the flank. s' -s' “Does the horse know you?” asked a sad-eyed man, to whom the challenge was addressed. ’ “Never saw him before in my life.” “Is he the same as any other horse?” i “Just the same, so far as I can see.” “Well, I’ll have to go you a dollar for luck.” The man with the white hat passed his hand over the nostrils of the beast, and then stepped back upon the sidewalk. A moment later the eves of the horse be ! gan to roll, and then his upper lip shriv ! eled up so high that seven teeth sprang into view; “See him laugh?” yelled the man with the white hat nig he danced a Lancashire step oir the flagging. Tears leaped to thu eyes of the horse and his respira tions came heavy and fast as he lifted liis head into the airland uttered a hoarse guffaw. “Give me the money; I win the bet,” exclaimed the man with the white bat, amid a series of wheezes and snorts from the laughing beast. The sad-eyed man gave’up his dollar and passed on. Just as the animal was about to drop down from exhaustion the man with the white j bat pulled a blue bottle fly from his vic tim’s nostri's. “That makes $4 I have won to-day,” he said, giving the horse a congratula tory slap. “It’s rather tough on the critters, but a fellow must live,-you know. Y’ou can use a flyfor'ono’experi nient only, but when you haye.a,bottle full, as I have here in my pocket,' you do not mind the loss.” —Chicago Herald. WORDS OF WISDOM. No task is well performed by a reluct-, ant hand. Next to the ligheatheart, the heaviest is apt to the most playfu). There are no greater prudes than those woihen who have some secret to hide. ' , Tilp-Rood hate evil, but got evil peo ple; the evil abhor both good and good people. In great cities wo learn to look the world in the face. We shAke hands with stern realities. Our grand business is not to see what Hesdimly-at a distance, but to do what’ lies clearly At hand. , There is nothing so sweet us a duty, and all the best pleasures in life come iq the wake of duties done. , . i When death, the great reconciler has come., it is never our tenderness that we repent of but our severity. i If life like the olive, is a bitter fruit, theu grasp both with the pres i, and they will afford the sweetest oil. ' One of the finest qualities in a human being is . that nice sente .of delicacy which renders-jt impossible for.himev.er to be an intruder or a Jiore. Does any man wound thee? Not only forgive, but'Workioto thy thought in-' lelligenco of the, kind- .of-pain, that tbou maye-t never inflict it on another, spirit. a': '- ' 1 • All higher education isbsscn'tiaily'self education..r Teachers do not make-the' scholar. The impulse comes chiefly from within, and tjfe student becomes the. scholar whea he- ceases to .confine him self to prescribed tasks or previous limits, and spontaneously readies out beyond.- • ' . ' Whistling and If a boy is allowed - to - whistle it .will turn his attention in a great degree from the desire to become * possessor Of a drum, and if paternal firmness. be added lie can be kept satisfied without one un t l he gets to be Sixteen years old, when Jie will strike the cornet period. . Shakespeare was well acquainted with the art. He makes Othello say concern ing Desdemona:. “H I- do but pfove her false, I’ll whistle her qff andjqt her down the wind a prey to fortune, e’en though lier very cries were iny - dead heart strings.’-’ t •.*; , ! Negroes are the best.whistlers in. the world. Frequently one hqars a‘ colored improvisatote whistling-' the quaintest and sweetest melodies, and.with the col ored males in general whistling c mes as 'natural ua'grun ting does to a'hog. - Men whistle,when:they are happy, and they whistle when.they.are sad: ,When you see a carpenter, or house painter pushing the plain Or slapping oir tlie pAiiit and whistling., a . lively aitqat the same time, put him down ns n man who .pays his debts, -is cheerful af homS, and ileVer whips hi& children.'’; ; : • When a man is sad he. whistles. in a 'doleful tone. Nine times out of ten ha won’t choose a doleful air, -but he will whistle a lively tune, a negro minstrel end song. And he will draw the melody in and out between his lips in a way to draw tears from all listeners. Hometimes a man accomplishes the same results whea he is cheerful and trying to whittle real good. Girls, in general, whistle in a sort of jerky, disconnected, jim jam way, and groan mildlv between the notes. They’d better let whistling alone. — l‘hihulrlyltia Meme. Result of a Collision. Oat of our school-teacher* was en deavoring to explain to a small boy in her class the meaning of the word “col lision.” She said: “Supi>OHe two lioyt running on the street should come together real b*rd. Whut would there bet” “A fight.” responded the little fellow loudly and with netonUhißg promptness, and ths teacher gave it up. —lhinjor f'wnmereiut. on OOLUK Piri —mm. fa i *wmmn LIGHTS OUT. The sentry challenged at the open gate, Who passed him by, because the boors was laff - ' i “Halt! Who goes -there?” “All’s well."” . , “A friend, old chap!” a friend’s farewell, And I had passed the gsit*. ’■ And then the long, last notes were shed, .The echoing calfls last dead; “And sounded sadly, as X stood without. Those last -sad notes of all: Lights Out! Light* Out! Farewell, companions! We have side by side Watched history’s lengthened .shadows past us glide, r ‘ And worn the scarlet; laughed at, paid, And buried comrades lowly laitf, ‘ And let the long-year*.gUe;f. And toil and hardship have wsknown, Andi followed where h&f gbAS.” - But all the echoes answering foundatof* * Have bidden you to sleep: laigh ts- Out!. . s And never more forme sjiallrad fire flash From brightrevolvers—Oh,the crumbling asb Of life is hope's fruition.' Fall " Tho withered friendships; and .wy all Are sleeping! East away The fabrics of our lives decay., . ■ The robes of night about ihe lay, And the air whispered, fis I stood without. Those last sad notes of ail; Light*put' Lights Out! • '■ —Roger Rocock, in the XVt'ck. PITH ANIKPIMN-T, - ■■ - . A chest protector-—Ther ‘baggagorinas- ter. ... * Mrs. Grundy tells the New Y’oik Moil and Kxprets that fliey'do bot-rcSU tfiem dudes any more— I siqip - 1y..,“y0pi% ; sockty Darwins.’.’ ~, ~ \ ' Not every oqu is happy'Who donees, says the proverb. The man whti lies.just stepped-qn a tack kno.ws : well. I — Button. Courier. All flesh i* grass, the young man sfghed; The maid repiUXUaistruo, ' " As all must know who’ve sat beside A chap as greeti' rts-youi. • . Courier. When- you see a couple on'the street, if the man carriee the bundles thoy are engaged. If the woman carries the • bundles they ara married, —New^JJoren News. A . _ .V, The “seif-.niailfe^’'Wan who boasts of •’how mubh smarter'he.-hai been'.than other mete, did .potxiuij*,Jlflißjnthg,<job. He forgot to give hiqiself uiimuers. —Oil City lilitxard. \ ! • When jiieO-iooksadauUstgii; PAtaq?.’ l , , And from companions tfy, , . In very may case* 'tw' 1 ' '• • A las* tlidt makes them sigh -j Mercha n t-Ir artier. ■ A" Sioux Indian - bears - thfi, namO' of ‘.'The -man- Jjtybq-rth-flO- wi'ul-vyhß<reft-belflud.” It is belijyedhe participated ‘in tlXc Strategic move'on jYoahiugfcu 'jihi the, jrdX b'attlc'OL-iiuH Run.— Norer'ido ih ■ .; ' .Commanding , Oflfeer-r-“Bring, ypur company. Op.*’’ ‘Captaitf'fjust tOKbii back into the army)—WALV-JAIt-#oaitd-tfilk SoSkSBTW since jrod'lnft’tUicurjiW?” "Beerf c<sm mandmg a.rgkanlpdf3ww4ti a ,!’_'GpiaAa World. r ,r v ,. a .... “Wlrnt can be, the matter with-Arthur, dear?' He ihdpcihfO? IW rliust be sick.” “I don’t think, it js‘ nous'fcs that, mamma. It's. bis", whiskers;” “His whiskers'. WJiy thdjbby hasn’t got any.” “That’is iust it, fuamma'.' Hewishesrhe had itheiii. idqn’a, y.qu know.”.— .Tow* Topicß. . . .; . I , ' , .•; “My dear”’ said the husband to the wile before the’glass, “I’m ashamed to see. you ,-ptit red, stuff oijk youi cheeks.” “Oh, don’t worry about tlgit,” she replied sweetly. “It matches the 'color'on yourr-sose .admirably; and har mony is.,what makes shc marriage rela tion idea Critic.. * ; OlhKhs Ba'bii— “Well, now, just tqU me wlrutcomfort you’ve gained, by get-' ,ting 'married.?", ypqqff How doyou fasten your suspepders when the buw6tls"?ome off, as they gonerally'do in about a WCeiq?” “I use wire hooks usu ally.” “Yys: and. whqre do get the Wire?" ” “WeM, I gcnfeVally have a time huntmg fora piece,"l must admit. I girt .the last.off jny,whisk broom.” Yes, and spbiltj.be brooni.” “Just so; but what., -better’off eire-y'ou?” “Mel Why, I’ve -got a .wife,, and she always has about a bushed v .of .hair" pins on hand.”-^- Omaha • Wom:_ . . j t A Conversion. The,.-story, is jtold/ithat When General Sherman entered Goldsboro-’, N. 0,, on the wfiytto join Grant after his parch to /the sesC,-he. Qhd;his staff stopped just hr front’of the v rulonce of a man who was a rabid Secession id. The cokupl iM •b-ro tirat title) appeared on' the porch :to greet thgm, jnd. an o Hcer asked what his sftntiriiects were in regard to the r w*ir.* “"Tam- a strong I'nioa man,” said .the.colonel, with a.dry smile “Ah, in deed, ” said, the onieer, rather sarcastic ally; “and -how long bare yon been a . titriwn man?” "‘fT have been a Tnion man, .(Said the,-colonel, “ever-since I saw you and your staff come into the end of That street, about fifteen 'minutes .ago,” • Thjjit. condor 'pleased General Sherman, and he ordered a guard plaeedj • around’Coldhei X.’s property, and dur ing 4he*#tay of the icrmy not a thing was moiested,.io or .around his premises, al though many others suffered.’ • *'-* ' -J. '• * • ■ ~ f City’s Oak J.nuijjs. I.ate one night last week 1 met an old : mah with a codhslcin hat on bis head and a huge pipe in his mouth. He was standing at the comer of Washington and Halstead'streets, gazing intently at . a gas-lamp. As ho lifted his wrinkled old face toward me I recognized him. He was the figure ticud. <1 “Sec that ’ar gas lamp?” he exclaimed. “Well, I was just tninkiu' ’bout it. There's more in the gsa lamp question thau you have any ldoa of. ThCre'a 1 <I,OOO o’ them gas lamps in t hicago, think of that. 10,000, an" •1,000 oil la efts,. Cost money to-run 'em? I should j say to—slM a year for every lamp an’ 1 a year for evefy oil burner. That, makes a heap o' money, don't It. Why, sir, ail them lamps would light tho l’en n-. sylvama Hail.uau from Chicago to New 1 ork ao's a man a walkin’ them at nJgnt need naver bo In the dark. They would place a tamp every fomtaon rod the hull distance. What dyo think of Utetl”— Chiet'jo ihraU. ~ NO 3.