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VOL/ XII. ELLIJAY COURIER PUBLISHED EVERT THURSDAY —BY— COLEMAN * KIRBY. GENERAL DIRECTORY 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, Surveyor. G. W. Rice, Coroner. Court of Ordinary meets Ist Monday in each month. town council. . E. W. Coleman, Intendant. L. B. Greer, | J.‘ R vS’jr. Commissioners. T. J. Long, J M. T. Dooly, Marshall. RF.r.retous services. Methodist Episcopal Church South— Every 3d Sunday and Saturday before. G. W. Griner. 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 Bowery Lodge, No. 81, F. A. M., meets Ist Friday in each month. L. B. Greer, W. M. T. H. Tabor, S. W. .T. W. Hipp, J. W. R. Z. Roberts, Treasurer. 1). Garren,S tcretary. W. S. Coleman, 8. D. W. C. Allen, J. D. S. Garrcn, Tyler. R. Ta PICKENS, ATTORNEY AT LAW, ELLIJAY, GEORGIA, Will practice in till the courts of Gil mer nnd adjoining counties. Estates nnd interest in land :i specialty. Prompt attention given to nil collections. _ 10-21-85 DR. J. R. JOHNSON, Physician and Surgeon ELLIJAY, GEORGIA- Tenders his professional services to the people of Gilmer and surrounding coun ties and asks the support of his friends as heretofore. All culls promptly filled. E. W. COLEMAN, ATTORNEY AT LAW, ELLIJAY. <3A. Will practice in B u Ri ’ge Cirenit, County Cm i Justice < oiiit -> timer Comity. Legal business solicited. Tt uuiptuesv" in our motto. Oil. J. S. TfiNKERSLEY. Physician and Surgeon, Tend-rs his professional services to the eiti pens cf Eilijay, Gim ■ r and surrounding c ;V.i ties. Alt calls promptly atieud <1 to. Office rpa;airs over tlio firm of Cobb & Son. i FE WALDO THCRNTOM, D.D.B. DENTIST, Calhoun, Ga. VI ill visit EUijav and Morganton at both the Spriug and Fall term of the Superior Court—and oftoner by special contract, when sufficient work is guar anteed to justify me in making the visit. Address aa above. Tmavil-1* Young men Who wish a i'nononOH preparation lot Busines-, will find superior advantages*! MOORE’S BUSINESS UNIVERSITY, ATLANTA GA The largest ana best Practical Business Sohoo in the South. can enter at any time. for circulars, WHITE PATH SPRINGS! —THE— Favorite and Popular Resort of NORTH GEORGIA! Is situated 6 miles north of Elliiay on the Marietta & North Georgia Railroad. Accommodations complete, facilities for ease and comfort unexcelled, and the magnificent Minctai Springs is its chief attraction. For other * particulars on board, etc., address. , Mbs. W. F. Robertson, Ellijay, Ga. CENTRAL HOTEL! Ellijay, Georgia. In the special popular resort for commercial men and tourists of all kind, and is the general bouse for prompt attention, elegant rooms and are second to none, in this place. Reasonable rates. Mrs. M. Y. Teem will give her personal at tentjon to guests in the dining ball. IH4 Mountain View Hotel! ELLIJAY, QA. ’Shis Hotel la now fitted op in oral lent order, and is open for the reeepttea Every possible eftort will bn seeds te malts *e Mountain Vies^At^uosOpop^ aVEfy lokl and lisd *tesfli it—lotion wMi Met. Cuagte MHteoafi te and from all teatm froOtf sltetpa. Mly THE ELLIJAY COURIER. THE RIVER OF REST. A beautiful stream is the River of Reet; The still, wide waters sweep clear and cold. The tall mast crosses a star in the west, A white sale gleams in the west world's gold; It leans to the shore of the River of Rest— The lily-lined sho e of the River of Rest. The boatman rise*, be roaches a hand, He knows you well; be will steer you true, And far, so far, from all ills upon land. From hates, from facts that pursue and pursue; Far over the lily-lined River of Rest— Dear mystical, magical River of Rest. A storied, sweet stream is this River of Rest: -• The scuts of all time keep its ultima e shore; And journey you east or journey you west, Unwilling, or willing, sure footed or sore, You surely will come to this River of Rest— This beautiful, beautiful River of Rest —Joaquin Miller. A GOSSIPS DEED. Miss Perkins cleared . her throat and looked knowing. **l didn’t s’pose you'd care so much, ’Nervie,” she said, after a moment of silence, during which the young girl had turned her face away. Miss Perkins was one of the born ag gravators of humanity in general and in particular. Minerva Woodford felt hop ribly tempted to tell her so. But Mi nerva had wonderful self-control for such smiling azure eyes and thick-massed, ungovernable auburn hair. It was no light imposition, this that she had borne throughout that glorious midsummer af ternoon ; the company of Miss Perkins “to tea,” the threads of gossip Miss Per kins unraveled (inch for inch with the yarn of the great gray balls from which she was always knitting ugly stockiugs for Heaven knew whom) and knit up slowly with her own peculiar skill of nar ration into a substance quite as ugly and durable as the product of her hands. It was one of Miss Perkin’s self-en joined duties to communicate disagree able tidings, fcho felt a delightful sense of peace and contentment now that she had concluded her task of enlightening her young and motherless hostess! “’Nervie was a good girl and hadn’t ought to be deceived leastest,” she said to herself, “more ’specially by such a worthless critter as that Jason Hawkes.” “I didn’t s’pose you’d care so much,” she repeated, with an air of sympathy. Minerva was reaching thr ugh tho win dow to break off some of the pink roses that hung there red-ripe ana luscious. She did not obey her impulse to turn and speak sharply,She did not say out her thought. “’Nervie!” How the hated to be called “ ’Nerviot” No one with any sense called her anything but Minnie. No one but Miss Elvira Perkins. She wished Miss Perkins would never come to 6ee her. She thought ail this, but what she said was milder, as she faced about caieicssly and stood arranging the roses. “I am sure I hardly understand you, Miss Perkins. Why should you suppose I cared what was said about Jason Hawkes? Surely he has a right tom irrv whom he pleases.” She might have been a little paler than usual, but her voice was quite steady. Miss Perkins smiled discreetly. “There ain’t much chance for the young girls,” she observed, “ when there’s a designin’ widow come to town. Mis’ Darrell’s just got Jason Hawkes wound completely round her finger. ’Tisn’t that he’s so much account, though if he’d inqrried you, you could’ve had a good influence. He's altogether too fond o’ race-hprses and such-like evil doings. But Tor her to come an I set herself up so mightily—why, she ain’t once returned your call now, I’ll be bound.” Minerva’s lovely face flushed painfully at the reminder. She stepp.d from sit ting-room to kitchen and put some water in a vase for the roses. Her heart throbbed with a great ache, but never should her caller know it. “It’s almost time for father to come,” •he sad, quietly. “I'm going to set the table now, Miss Perkins. Will you sit by the door? I’ll bring your chair.” “Oh, law! I can manage for myself,” said the elderly maiden, rising in some haste to push the wooden rocker before her over the sill and down the length of the shining kitchen. It was a wing of the house facing the road, and the door was open. A sudden hoof-beat and a rumble of wheels on the soft and yellow, dusty road. A carriage spun by after a certain well-known pair of jet black horses. Miss Perkins seat up a shrill little cry of triumph. “T never! There they go; he’s driving her out to the fair grounds. What do you think of that, ’.Nervie? ” But Minerva made no reply. Miss Perkins turned only to see the girl slip quietly from the roam. Miss Perkins sat there alone for a con • siderable space. The tea-kettle had be gun to sing cheerily. The smiwy table cloth and the shining glassware had an inviting aspect. There was plenty of Miss Perkins’s favorite sauce and sweet pickle ; there was just the kind of tea biscuit and cocoanut cake that she doted on. She clo.-ed her eyes and clasped her hands with a sigh of thankfulness for duty performed and blessings about to be enjoyed. Then -Minerva’s father arrived. “How-dy, Miss Perkins? ” he said. “Where’s Minnie?” Minerva reappeared, just a little pale and shadowy around the eyes. “Here I am, father,” she said gently; “tea ia ready. I hod something to d6, I’d most forgotten." Miss Perkins went sway just after tea. She did not atop to “help ‘Nervie do the dishes,” as usual. It was getting dork, and she hod a long walk, she sud den 1 y remembered Minerva went ab ut he.' work quite unassisted. Her father was due at onie village meeting, and so presently she was left alone iu the house. A terrible sense of depression fell upon her. She wondered if Jnaon Hawkes were coining She was • uite prepared. She had averytluu ready to return to him—hi* lettoi* aud the Rule pearl ring he had given he I vwything was wrapp'd securely the package was too heavy f rgher pocket—quite too heavy She wondered if lit would coins. And "A MAP OF BUST LIFB-ITS FLUCTUATIONS AND TTM TAFT OONCBBNS . ELLIJAY. GA.. THURSDAY, APRIL 14. 1887. how should she feel after the had given all bock to him and said to him that they had better part? She hardly knew. Oh. life was hard, and bitter! Jason had loved her—she knew he had loved her until that women had come to the vil lage. the “designing widow.” as Miss Perkins had said. Perhaps Miss Perkins I was right. Minerva finished her work and went to sit on the porch. The air was heavy with the scent of rose and honeysuckle'. And she felt her heart within her as cold as a stone. She had sat there less than half an hour when the gate opened and a form familiar < amc swiftly up the walk. Her cold heart seemed for a moment to stand still. Then it throbbed painfully. “Good evening,” she answered very quietly to h ; s “good evening.” But she didn't give him her hand. The rest all came about very swiftly. O pride, for thy stern sske how many hearts are wrung! He should never know that she had learned his treachery. He should simply believe she did not care for him. “Here are your letters and the ring,” she said swiftly, glad that the darkness vailed he.- pallor. Jason Hawkes received them in bitter silence. “As you choose, then, coquette,” he muttered, aud, turning, strode away. Minerva Woodford tossed wakefully upon her bed that night. It was the first great trouble of her life. First troubles are so bitter. Everything recurred to her —every- thing that Miss Perkins had told her concerning Mrs. Darrell. The widow was young and pretty. Why should Jason care for her? She had come from the city and was bright with city ways and city talk. She seemed to have money in abundance. Oh, it was cruel! The whole thing was cruel 1 Minerva fell asleep only toward the dawn. She rose pale and heavy-eyed for the morning, yet strong in the intention of concealing her.grief. The summer day dragged heavily toward noon, more heavily after. Time was so long, so long. It* seemed a cen tury since Miss Perkins had been there with her tale of Jason Hawkes’s devotion to the young widow. But the dream was over. It was Minerva’s task to forget their plighted vows, to forget the hand some face that had been so dear to her. I robably he would leave the village— when he had married tho widow. Minerva’s eyes grew dim; she felt a choking sensntion and stepped to the open door, hoping the soft summer breeze would cool her hot iorehead. As she stood there she suddenly heard a sharp cry of distress, then something tore past in the road, beating up the yel low dust in blinding clouds. “A runaway,” she said, and her heart seemed to cease beating for an instant. She lan down the path and out into the road. The horses had dashed on,hut something of a wreck was perceptible a short distance off. Minerva thought she could see some one lying by the roadside. She ran on toward it at her utmost speed. “Oh, Jasou, Jason!” sho moaned, bending down over him. Not dead, thank Heaven! Only stunned, perhaps. She raised hiß head, loosened his collar and asked herself what next. Turning for a moment she looked back down the road and saw someone going in at her own gate. It was a woman. She flew back toward home to ask help of whomever it might be. It was Mrs. Darrell! Bhe was very pale, aud addressed the girl anxiously. “I’m afraid an accident has hap pened Mr. Hawkes. His team ran away— —” “He is lying in the road unconscious,” Minerva interrupted. “Will you help me some way to ” “Let us go quickly,” said the other. And so they had not lost an instant. Jason had come to himself. “Badly shaken up, that’s all,”hesaid, with an unnerved laugh, and, leaning on their arms, limped back to Minerva’s home. Minerva drew up the arm-chair in the sitting-room, and left him there with Mrs. Darrell, going herself into the kitchen to make a cooling drink for her guests, perforce. Through the open door between the rooms she could hear Jason’s voice gloomy and disturbed. “Good thing, perhaps, if I had been killed. Wouldn’t have cared much.” “Oh, tut you shouldn’t say that,” the soft voice of Mrs. Darrell replied. “You ought to care. Things may come right, you know.” Minerva's heart seemed to twist up within her in a sudden jealous frenzy. She could fancy just how the widow’s dark, soft eyes were gazing into his; just how her white and graceful hand lay on his arm. Yes, things might come right. But why should .Tasou speak gloomily? She had given him his freedom. The hand with which she offered him the glass of lemonade shook percep tibly. Did Jason observe it? “I am going away to morrow, Miss Woodford,” he said, rather sti lly. “Per haps I may carry your good wishes with me. I greatly regret having made you -this trouble.” The widow had slipped out on the porch. “It is no trouble whatever Mr. Hawkes,” replied Minerva. “Miss Woodford,” said a soft, smooth voice from out anions the roses: “won’t you please come out here a moment?” Minerva obeyed. The widow came near the girl and laid her gentle hand upon her arm. •‘I have heard so much of you,” she said, in a low tone. “1 feel as if we might he friends. I have been trying to come and see you for so long; I wa on my way the’ morning. I’m afraid you feel unkindly toward poor Jason. Please, don't feel so. lie inti not Ix-eii to blame” Minerva's heart was boiling within her. Khe answered with au effort. “I was no) aware of any unkind feel ings. It can interest you very little how I feel." “Oh, hut pardon me! It interests me esceedingly. ’ "Oh!" said Minerva, with sudden sarcasm. "To be *tire! I forgit. Will you p rmit me to cm.g. ululate Mr. llawkes?” dis Dsrr. ll looked peiplcxe.l ofigrutulute : For wimi'” pon his eni/itgemeiit to you,” said Minerva with a little gasp. “You—foolish—child ! Who put suds nonsense in your head;” Mr*. Darrell was actually laughing."' “Did you fancy —why, child, I am six yearroider than he. Besides—l am to marry ha- cousin i Frank, who is in Europe now. I thought lie had told you. There, now, run in to him and make it all up. Pm off for the present. But EU pe back.” Minerva turned into the house with cheeks aflame. “Jason,” she said.’ “I —I think I was too hasty last nigtit. It—it was a mistake.” Jason sprang to his feet arid drew.Vfw, into his arms j* “Who was it that .ame gos*\ '*J to you?” “Wasn’t it Miys ' “Y'es,” said MinerviC, slowly. “It was Miss Perkins. But I don’t believe her —now.” —New York Journal. A Costly Dinner. The public hears from time to time about expensive dinna's that arc given by wealthy men. Gel'George A. Sheri dan, of New York, sPuck this topic toe other day in a conversation, and told this story: “ During the 1880fgtmpaiga two good friends of mine bltiffeu each other into a bet of s*,ooo on ijfipeld and Hancock. They were bothiulflH - sand,’ and both would have paid i * case of losing the bet. I knew that neither of them could afford to pay. The next morning alter the bet was made, and after they had cooled down I got them together and played my hand. I to'd them what fools they were to bet $',0!)0 apiece and got them to compromise on a dinner for fifteen persons at Ddlmonico’s, having the understanding that I was to order the dinner. Well, we had the dinner. I went to see Charley Delmonico about it and told him I wanted the best dinne he could serve for fifteen persons. He wanted to know if I would limit him to the cost of the wines, and I told him of course not as I did not care, so long as the wine did not cost $1,000,000 a Dot tle. He then wanted to know what my idea was, and I said that I presumed thathe would serve a.big dinner at SIOO a plate. He studied pwhile and replied : • General, to lie honest with you, I could not serve any one with a dinner at SIOO a plate. I can serve you with a dinner at SSO a head, equ-4 to anything that any man ever ate or drank.’ Well, we compromised for SSO, u head, and we had a dinner, and it was a dinner. My friend who had lost the best was so pleased for not having to pay the $5,000 that he called the chef and gave him a SSO bill, so that his dinner cost trim SBOO. But when I hear of sloo'dinnes I know it is chaff.” * Dead Faces in Buttle. When we got into the Block Road in trenchments, a man a few files to ray left dropped dead, shotrjust above the right eye. He did not gfcn, or sigh, or make the slightest physical movement, except that the chest heaved a few times. The light went out nf his face instantly, leav ing it without a particle of expression. It was plastic, and, as the facial muscles contracted, it took many shapes. When the man’s body became cold, and his face hardened, it was horribly distorted, as though he had suffered intensely. Any person who had not seen him killed would have said that he had endured ex treme agony before death released him. A few minutes after he fell.another mau, a little farther to the,left,fell with a pre cisely similar wound. He was straight ened out and lived for over an hour. lie did not speak. Simply lay on his back, and his broad chest rose and fell, slowly at first, and then faster and faster, and more and more feebly until he was dead. And his face hardened and it was almost terrifying in its painful distortion. I have seen dead soldiers’ faces which were wreathed in smiles; and heard their comrades say that they had died happy. Ido not believe that the face of a dead soldier, lying on a battlefield, ever truthfully indicated the mental or physical anguish or peacefulness of mind which ho suffered or en oyed before his death. The face is plastic after death, and as the facial muscles cool and con tract they draw (he face into many shapes. Sometimes the dead smile, ugain they stare with glassy eyes, and lolling tongue and dreadfully distorted visages atyou. It goes for nothing! Onedeath was as painless as the other.—Recollec tionso/a Private. Novel Consumption Cure. “You see this car platform?” inquired one passenger of another on an Illinois C’ential suburban train. “Well, that platform cured me of consumption ard saved my life. You see, I come of a consumptive amily. Mv mother died of consumption, a sister and two brothers, and a year ago I expected to go in the same way. .Us soon as I saw that 1 was going down I made up my mind to take some desperate means of salvation. I wasn’t financially able to go to Califor nia or to travel anywhere except to and from my wo k. So I did the next best thing. Every morning in riding into town I stood out on the platform, and, drawing long breathe; filled my- lungs full of l&fc'fresh air fro u the laive. At first X conldn't inhale much, but by-and by my lungs gathered strength, respira tory cels that had long been unused began to open nnd admit nature's life-giving oxygen, and in a few months I was sur prised at my own strength and good health, as were my friends. 1 our times a day—for I rode home to dinner and bock again—l stood on the platform and ! inhaled as much of the air as possible. ! The weather made no difference to me— rain, told, snow, blizzard. For more than a year I haven’t sat down in a rail way coach. Now I can draw a longer inhalation than any man I know, and a long inhalation means filling with air all jof the cells of the lungs, bringing the whole sytem into service, and I have no more fear of consumption.” —Chicago I IhraU. Shaded (Andies. The candle on the dinner-table holds its place still. The latest device that the art ware establishments have contrived for its adorning is a sliding shade that falls imp rceptibly a* the candle burns lower. The shade i* mode in the simp e Bohemian glasses, in decorated art glass of evety description, and Is sometimes Mien in rare cweled qln-s in every rich, soft hue. The nburi a candle sheds over table furnishing*, flowers and fares of tin guests the vrly |ierfeotlou of light that the dinner-givers have looked for these many years la vain. Nett York Mutl and he pirn. EARTHQUAKES. AN AMERICAN'S EXPERIENCE IN SOUTH AMERICA. Destruction of Valparaiso on a Gala Occasion -- How the City of Mendoza Looked After an Upheaval. Colonel 0. F. Steels, of Lancaster, Ohio, resided for ten years in South America. He lias been giving his earth quake experiences in that country to a Cincinnati Enquirer correspondent—“My first experience,” said the Colonel, “was a singular one. It was one of the his toric earthquakes in South America, and although I was in the midst of it, for some strange reason, I did not feel the awful shock which prostrated a city and almost destroyed it, and which inspired others with the most awful terror. -In fact the work was done before I realized what was going on.” “Give me your experiences.” “The earthquake to which I refer was the one that practically destroyed Val paraiso in IMSI. It was a gala day in the city, and preparations had been made to receive the President of Chili, who was coming up from Santiago. All the public and most of the private buildings were gayly decorated, and tho populace was on the qui vive in expectation of the distinguished guest. W henever a cav alcade would strike upon the Grand Plaza, everybody would rush at out ex pecting it to be the Presidential party, only to be disappointed. I was stopping at a hotel which opened out upon the Plaza, and had been fooled a number of times, and had resolved not to go out again until I had a sure thing on It. In the principal room of the hotel there was a large round table, gathered about which were a number of naval officers and sailors from foreign ports, drinking wine and celebrating the occasion in fine style. In the centre of the table was a lamp, used for lighting tho room at night, nearly three feet high, surmounted by a large glass globe. The officers and sailors were noisy and full of fun, and I sat there enjoying their hilarity, when all at once there came a noise as though many squadrons of cavalry and artillery had swept into the Grand Plaza. There were wild and unusual cries outside and I said to myself the President is here at last, but I’ll just wait to make sure of it. From the way thiugs began to shake and tremble, I thought that the Presi dent had all the heavy artillery of the Republic in his train, with a view of showing his greatness to such strangers as might be iu town. The clamor out side increased, but there were no hip hip-hurrahs. There were strange and wild ejaculations, the meaning of which I could not comprehend, and quicker than it takes me to tell it, all the revelers at the round table ran out of doors ex cept one ship captain who was more than half seas over, and sat glaring around as though he was dazed. Then the wine-glasses began to leap like frogs from the table and dash themselves to pieces on the concrete floor. The tall lamp began to gyrate and reel like a drunken mau, whereat the captain grasped it with both hands and shouted; ‘Put down your helm! Steady there! Port your helm, you lubber! Hold her hard-a-port! Don’t you see we’re run ning right into <he breakers:’’ Leaving the captain thundering out his commands to an imaginary helmsman, and holding on to the lamp like grim death, I stepped outside to see what the unearthly com motion meant. The street, as far ns I could see, and the Plaza were filled with uncovered human beings, kneeling aud beating their breasts us though in the agonies of supplication. This struck me ns being a singular way to receive a democratic ruler. Then I could sec tho lofty buildings tumbling into heaps of ruins, like children’s toy-houses, and the long street in front of me looked like a huge strip of carpet with a giant at each end of it shak ing the dust out of it. The un dulations were perfectly natural, and the dust rose in blinding masses. Then I realized that we were iu the midst of an earthquake. Although I felt the awful tremors of the earth, I have no recollec tion of the shock or shocks which threw down the lofty buildings and wrecked more or less all the others, including my own hotel. There was much loss of life, but it was a mere tritie compared with what would have followed such an earth quake in a North American city. With the first subsidence of the earth’s con vulsions all who were able started to 11 ee to the mountains near the city, and I fol lowed suit. They feared the incoming of the tidal wave, whi h would have been more destructive than the earth quake itself. But it did not come. ” “What became of the ship Captain “He escaped unhurt, and saved the globe intact. And. as incredible as it may seem, it is nevertheless true that it was the only pie e of glass or china ware, in the city that escaped unbroken. It was placed in a case, and is still pre served in Valparaiso, with a suitable in scription recording its miraculous escu[e from the earthquake. “Earthquakes were of common occur rence, but were not always destructive. They were of all degrees, from a mere tremor to a terrible shakiug-up. But when they came, great or small, hats went off and prayers for deliverance went up. On one occasion with a small party I made a trip into the interior, and stopped at the city of Mendoza. Here I met an intelligent old Spaniard who had read the life and achievements of Don Cortes Washington, and he was so de lighted with meeting one of his fellow countrymen that ! had to stay with him a week and tell him all about the United States. One morning bright and early we set out on our journey, and had pro ceeded three or four leagues when we heard the awful roar of an approaching quake. Our tnulea set their feet wide apart, braced themselves, put down their beads and began to groan Willi lints in hand we leaped to the ground, and found it dlJ’cult to keep our feet. First was the horizontal motion back ami forth, and then the vast plain in all di rections around us rose and fell like the wave* of the sea, but with no sp|mrent exterioor fissures. Th>- heavy tremors coutiniied, and we imparked our mnlet and estop# I where we were. Two or three hours Liter a frightened mule leer dashed past us aud sTiouled “Mendoz • is destroyedWe mounted our mules and returned. The scene pro sented woe an awful one. The city had been built for earthquakes and all the buildings were one-story adobes. There was not a foundation even left. The streets could be traced, but the houses themselves were extinguished. The beat idea I can give of it is this: Take an im mense tray and cover it with little heaps of sand in regular r->ws, aud then give it a sudden (hake hori ontally. The loose sand Is scattered in indistinguishable lines. That precisely answers the de scription of Mendoza as we looked at it from a swell in the plain. “The effect of these earthquakes on birds and animals was as marked as on human beiugs. Abject terror seized them all. You would see a flock of barn yard fowls scratching and disporting in the sunshine, the gay-plumaged cocks of the walk strutting about like drum majors at h dium parade. Suddenly the earth would groau and tromble and heads nnd wings would go down anil the gallus birds would move along slowly or cower down and utter the most piti ful and doleful cries. The groaning 'of the mules and cattle added to the terror of tho scenes. Dogs and cats exhibited human-like terror and wild animals and birds would seem to be suddenly bereft of their natures. There is nothing amusing in an earthquake. HOUSEHOLD MATTERS. Good Oatmeal Mush. A v Wtor, who -e ?med to be Enjoying most exceedingly- Tho faro at morn, declared, “I ne'er Huch oatmoal tasted; tell me where YOu get it, then I’ll surely go And order twenty pounds or so.” “ My friend,” I said with earnest look, “ Tis not the grocer, ’tie the cook Deserves our praise.” “Indeed,” shecried; “ O, whl you n-)t at ouoe confide The secret of the woudrus charm That here is found? Indeed, the palm Your cook may take, an ode or sonnet You might, in truth, ex|jend upon it.” “ The charm,” I said, “G simply this—• Which epicure should nover miss— Boil e'en from inorniug until night, The day before you use it. Bright And early you may rise, und then Put on your meal to toil again. Don’t let it scorch, or burn, to sjioil The flavor; ouly boil—and boil-and boil." — D. H. Thayer, in Plnrnological Journal. The Use of Binning. It is well to remember that too much , blueing renders clothes yellow alter a time. Inexperienced or cureless servants think the more blueing in the water the better for the wash: and it is a difficult matter to convince them that the clothes will look far better if only u small quan tity is used. As blueing varies so much in intensity experience only can teach the required quantity. Usually half a tnblcspoonful to a cup of water is suffl ; cicnt. It. should always bo diluted be fore it is put in the tub; us, if not thor oughly mixed before the clothes are put in, unsightly streaks will bo the result. , If the clothes are soaked over night one tablespoonful of pure water ammonia in each tub of water will materially lessen the labor of washing. -n~- Gleaning Wnll-Paper. Cut into eight portions a loaf of bread two dnyß old; must neither be newer nor staler. With one of these pieces, after having blown off all the dust from the paper to be cleaned by means of a good pair of bellows, begin at the top of the room, holding the crust in the band, and j wiping lightly downward with the crumb, about half a yard at each stroke until the upper part of the paper is com pletely cleaned all around. Then go round again, with the like sweeping stroke downward, always commencing each successive stroke a little higher than the upper stroke had extended till the bottom be finished. This operation, if carefully performed, will frequently make very old pa|ier look almost equal to new. < rent caution must be used not by any means to rub the imper hard, nor to attempt cleaning in the cross or horizontal way. The dirty part of the bread, too, must be continually cutaway, ' and tho pieces renewed as may become necessary. To take grease stains out of wall-paper, mix pipe clay with water to the consistency of crenin, lay.ngit on the spot, and letting it remain till the fol lowing day, when it may be easily re moved with a penknife or brush. Removing Cake from Puns Mrs. Lincoln says iu Cno t Ihasek-rep !ny: Line the cake tins with paper, al low it large enough to come half an inch above the top of the pm. Lay the pa per Over the outside, and crease it round the edge of the bottom of the pan. Fold it in the middle lengthwise and cross wise,and cut out the open corners to the crease made hy the pan. Then fit it into the inside, and grease the paper, not the pan, with urisnlte l butter or lard. Round, shallow pans for layer cakes should be lined only on the bottom. Grease the paper and edge of the pan. Cakes should bake until they shrink from the pan. To remove the esike from the pan, lay a clean bread or cake towel over a cake cooler or wire sieve, or over a long, shal low pan inverted. Run a slender knife between the tin and the paper. Take the cake out by lifting the paper on the middle of each side and place it carefully on the cloth, l ull tli- paper away from the edges, and leave that on the bottom until the cake is cool enough to be put away. But if the loaf is to be frosted turn it over in the cloth, and rt mo e the paper. .mother way, for layer cake- and cakes not lined with paper—Loosen the edges with a slender knife. Hold the pan in the right hand, slip the left band under the cake cloth: turn the pan over, letting the cloth meet the cake half way, then lower the cake iu the cloth to ward tho left. Remove the fun. if it does not come off readily, tap it on the bottdm with a knife, lesie it a few mo ments, and then should it fail to come off, stoop so thiit you can see under the Dan, raise the end gently and siip the Kuife under and scrape nwav what has stuck to the pn In this way a broken piece is fitted into its pine i with little trouble As soon ns the pan is removed turn the cske over l.y tu iiing it in the cloth so as to leave it right side up. Tuis prev nl- the cake from be oming heavy by tin- we ght of the hand, or by its own weight In lulling The under cru-t ll much nicer than whan left to sweat in the pan A wile w indow n reeu thirty im he* long by tiftien wide, with cleats iu the end* o *p o! on the corner*, to keep I the wite two inches front the table, I* a I con vhi t*nl cake cooier. OVB DOLLAR Per Amnmm, Im “ MISU.7 Li ER STOOD. If death could write ou every heart The cause that drew its blood, How mny would he written o’er With this: ‘Misunderstood!” Lo! every deed hes latent cause: O critic, seek that first; The laws of Nature cannot chrfuge— The weak are not the worst. Should we condemn the tiny flo' Which bloodi upon the hill < Because the mighty oak above Remains a monarch still? A law diviue demands the oak, Nor les'. demands the flower; Shall we, in passing neath the oce, Ignore the varied power Creating weak and strong alike! Look deop, O man, and know That God hath formed our minds too sran To know os he doth know. * The feelings of a human heart Are far too vast and gdoad For other hearts to stand aloof And boost; “We understand!” f it. We cannot know each other's hearts; The mold of each He breaks, And forms anew the clay and mold With every heart he makes. Then why should man, a finite work. Be bold and quick to say; “I grasp the all of yonder man; He, too, is formed from clay 1” —Eugene Ashton. pitFanF POINT. A frim figure—A barber’s charge for a hair cut. Strange as it may seem, when money is close it is difficult to get very neat it. The dime museum woman, who writes with her toes must make a great many foot notes.— Button Bullet in. After all there is no college war-cry that thrills a studont with a healthy appetite equal to a call for dinner.—Bi/t --ings. A series of practical talks to girls has begun in Boston. With our girls the most practical talk is the proposal.— Philadelphia Call, With Healthy baud be strove to clip, Oue golden ringlet from her bead. "Ah, don’t!” Then, with a smiling lip, “They are my sister June’s,” she said. —Harper’* Magazine. Somebody inis sent us a treatise on the source of the Mississippi, but what would interest us more just now is the source of a big boil ou the back of our neck.— Dantcille Breeze. A gardener who married an extremely homely widow gave as a reason for his action that he had u strong aversion to weeds and never saw them without using means to destroy them.— Boston Courier. German songs are now the fashion in society, nnd musical reporters are having a hard time in trying to determine the difference in sound between murdered English und eliminated German. —Boston Globe. “Our people adesire extempore ser mons, aud yet you persist In using notes.” Famishing pastor—“My dear brother, as I never have any notes in my pocket hook to use, you should not ob ject to my using them in the pulpit.— Philadelphia Call. The Wasp. The wasp is found in most all coun tries. but seems to have more business on his m nd in North America than any where else. Ho keeps both standard and solar time, and is always ready to fill an engagement by either. He doesn’t care so much about what he eats, but he ia very domestic and must have a home. This is generally located under the.eaves of a building insured for its full value, though it sometimes hangs from the limb of a tree or bush. As no wasp ex- Eects to live to see the new year come in e doesn’t break his back to lay in a store of pork ami potatoes, and it makes no difference to him whether coal goes up or down. Me spends the time from May to October iu sloshing around, at tending c< ut.iy fairs, horse races und wrestling matches, und having more or less to and > in the harvest field and around cider mills It is a disputed point whether the wasp con bite harder than the bull dog, b .t the weight of opinion is In favor of the wasp He seems mad about something oil the time, and it doesn’t make any difference whether his victim is the babe in the cradle or the father in the barnyard. Five months is the average life of the wasp, and he is heard from altout as often as any other insect on the programme.— Detroit Free Press. The Montana Turnip. “That’s a o>d looking diamond you are wearing,” said a Par Westerner to a waiter in the restaurant at the North western Depot. “It’s a two karat stone,” said the waiter, leaning over the counter. “What did it cost:” “Two hundied dollars.” “I’ve got s .mottling here myself," said the cater, going down into his pocket and pulling out a big gold nug get. “What do you call that?” asked the waiter, with a short breath. “No karat about that stone,” said the Western man, weighing the nugget in the palm of his hand. “That, sir, is a Montana turnip.”— Chicago Herald. A lieary Weight, Some thousands of people visited Prince* Knd Tipton, to witness the fu neral of Mr. Sumu.-l Murtitt, who was recently esh’bi ed as the largest man in the world. The deceased, who died on Friday after a few days’ illness, was a native of Wiuihiiugton, Cambridgeshire, and was fifty live year* of age Height, U feet 1 inch: weight, 40 stone (300 Cuudsi; girth of waist, 100 inches, and nieusured ?0 inch e found the calf ot the leg. A hearse could not be found large enough for the deceased's removal, and the body had to be conveyed on a flat. The sashes had to he removed from the windows, and nearly twenty men were . splayed <o get ihe eollin through the window ou to the flat.— UUIk, luau ares ol 100,143 <|uars miles la the northwest provinces of India there are Mid teU (4,440,444 ilia-too# NO. 5.