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VOL. XII. ELLIJAY COURIER PUBLISHED EVERT THURSDAY —BY— COLEMAN It KIRBY.* GENERAL DIRECTORY. Superior Court meets 8d Monday iu 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 iu each month. TOWN COUNCIL. E. W. Coleman, Intendant. L. B. Greer, J.' R Commissioners. ~ T. J. Long, W. H, Foster, Marshal. RELIGIOUS SERVICES. Methodist Episcopal Church South— Every 8d Sunday and Saturday before. G. Yv. 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. J. W. Hipp, J. W. R. Z. Roberts, Treasurer. D. Garren, Secretary. W. 8. Coleman, S. D. W. C. Allen, J. D. S. Garren, Tyler. R. T. PICKENS, ATTORNEY AT LAW, ELLIJAY, GEORGIA. Will practice in all the conrts of Gil mer and adjoining ' counties. Estates and interest in land a specialty, Prompt attention given to all collections. DR. 1. 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 calls promptly filled. E. W. COLEMAN, ATTORNEY AT LAW, ELLIJAY, GA. Will practice in Blno Ridge Circuit, Conntj Court Justice Court of Gilmer County. Legal business solicited. “Promptness" is our motto. DR. J. S. TANKERSLEY. Physician and Surgeon, Tenders his professional services to the citi sens of Ellijay, Gilmer and surrounding conn ties. All calls promptly attended to. Office cpstairs over the firm of Cobb & Son. ftUFE WALDO THORNTON, 0.0.8. DENTIST, Calhouk, Ga. Will visit Ellijay and Morganton 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 tho visit. Address aa above. TmavJtl-li WRITE PATH SPRINGS! —THE— Favorite and Popular Resort oj 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 Springs is its chief attraction. For other particulars on board, etc., address, Mbs. W. F. Robertson, Ellijay, Ga, Mountain View Hotel! ELLIJAY, QA. This Hotel is now fitted up in excel lent order, and is open tor Mu receptios of guests, under competent management. Every possible effort will be made U make the Mountain View the most popu. !ar Hotel in IBljay. Accommodations iz every department first-class. livery, suit and leafcstshfeßta oeiraection with hotel. GoeetMeansfMft to and from aX train* frei fit lharga. 6*4 Iy 0 __________ * 825,000.00 IN GOLD! v.in m; rttD ton AEBUCKLEb' COFFEE WRAPPERS. . Premium, • • 61.000.00 2 Premiums, • 6500.00 each 5 Premiums, • 8250 00 “ 25 Premiums, • 8100.00 * 100 Premiums, • 850.00 M 900 Premiums, • 620.00 " 1,000 Premium!, 610.00 •’ I<*r full |rtl<nitnr uM diftMtioe* #* Cirou Inr In rvmnr Kt-ihd of Anm Curr**. THE ELLIJAY COURIER PUSH AHEAD. Up and on and do not wait If you've anything to do; Never be a moment late; Drive ahead and push it througn. Onward press without complaint ; Never murmur, fret or scold; Lingering never made a saint; Vacant hearts no virtue hold. Every moment keep in play Nerve and faculty and grit; Providence will haste the day When with honor you will sit. —Religions Herald. A TROUBLESOME LAHE. That line had always been a bone of contention between Uncle Joe Allen and his neighbor on the west. When the country was new Uncle Joe and Samson Freeholder had bought adjacent farms. In some way or another they had not agreed about the matter of building the line fence. One wanted the privilege of building it in his own way, the other would not adopt that method; and so it came about that they decided to build a lane two rods wide, onc-lialf lying one side the line and one-half on the other side. Each man put up a fence the whole length of the line, leaving that long strip of land that neither could use. W ith a considerable degree of propriety the lane came to be known as ‘‘the Devil’s Lane.” Similar lanes may be found in certain parts of this country at the present time, although they are fast disappearing. So the matter stood. The two men let each other severely alone after the fence was built. Each kept up the fence on his side of the Devil’s Lane, never venturing to do anything toward making the land of value to himself or his neigh bor. Time brought gray hairs to those good farmers, and at length Sampson Free holder was gathered to his fathers. Then the farm was sold to Dick Lamson, a wide-awake thorough-going young fellow who was bound to succeed in life. Everybody said so, and wliat all in Spring field agreed upon, who could question? Uncle Joe was not blind to the young man’s sterling qualities, and so it hap £e_ned that wnen, iu the course of time, •ick came to court his handsome daugh ter Bess, he was very much inclined to favor his suit. It was not long before it came to be well understood that Dick was “going with Bess,” and that they were going to “get married” in a few months. Matters were iu this condition when once upon a time Dick happened to get to thinking about that Devil’s Lane. Then it stretched the whole width of his farm, separating him from his prospective falher-m-law. At that time the lane was well calcula tccl.to be an eyesore to -any energetic far ther. If had Been allowed Eo rim to waste for many years. No one had set foot on it siuce the fences had been built save now and then a venturesome boy hunting rabbits, for which it furnished an excellent retreat. For it had grown up so thickly with shrubs, briars and weeds that it was the next thing to impossible for any one to force his way througli it. In such a condition it wan of no use to the men who owned the land. It looked to Dick like a sheer waste of property. There was a strip of land 100 rods long and a rod wide that belonged to him,and a piece of the same size which Uncle Joe ought to have under cultivation. Was it not poor policy to allow that land to run wild in that way? So it seemed to him. He knew nothing about the circumstances under which the lane had been built and possibly thought it was only by chance. “I’ll speak to Uncle Joe about it the next time I’m over that way,” was Dick’s resolution; and it was not long before he had a chance to carry it into effect. The old gentleman seemed to be in very good humor the day Dick called on him, and the two men sat on the fence half an hour chatting about the crops and matters in general. Finally the young man said: “By the way, Uncle Joe, what do you say to clearing up that land between you and me and putting a good fence on the line? That’s where it belongs. The use of that iaud is worth something to us both.” Uncle Joe's lips closed for a moment very tightly. Then he replied: “It’s good enough for me as it is!” Now, that meant a great deal from Uncle Joe. It meant that he had not for gotten the strife of almost half a century ago with neighbor Freeholder, and that he had no inclination now to depart from the decision ho had then formed never to help build a fence on the line. Dick was not slow to see that there was something back of the fanner’s re mark, and he wisely said no more about the lane. But as fate would have it, the Legisla ture of the State about that time hap pened to recognize the fact that there were a number of devil’s lanes inside its boundaries; and appreciating the fact that they were but standing monuments of man’s perversity, someone introduced a bill to do away with them for ever. In case the parties in interest could not or would not agree to build a joint fence, the trustees of the township were author ized to locate the line, build a fence upon it and charge the expense to the general tax. This Dick knew, bnt his steady-going neighbor did not. So that when some one happened to remark to Dick that it was about time the lane was closed up, it set the young man to thinking very earnestly. Why should Uncle Joe persist so fool ishly in maintaining that crop of bushes and briars. His farm was everywhere else a model of thrift. After a while he ventured to approach Uncle Joe again on the subject and told him, as the law then was. he didn’t see but the lane would have to be done away with. But the old man was immovable'. It panes all com prehension what an amount of Htigation and neighborhood difficulty have grown out of so simple a matter as the construc tion of a line fence. Men sensible in most matters have been made enemies for life by just such a thing as that. It is my duty to chronicle the feet that, the more Dick thought about it, the more it aroused him. It was downright rai-an mm on the old man’* part to stand out in that way, according to Dick's opinion. Of course, he waa an old man now and full of whimt; but be ought to listen to com mon sense. He finally talked it over with Bees, MAP 09 MUST UTS-ITS TLUCTVATIOWB AMO ITS MAST COKCMMMS." ELLIJAY, GA„ THURSDAY, MAY 26. 1887. ; "and, like the sensible girl she was, she 'ought to act as a mediator be tween the two men. It was not the first time a woman's heart had been crushed by the obstinancy of two men. like wheat by millstones. Uncle Joe finally told Bess never to mention the thing to him again. The fence was all right as it was and should not lie disturbed. He had thought Dick Lamson “a pretty square kind of a fellow,” but if that was the way he was going to act, he didn't want anything more to do with him; and, as for Bess, she needn't think she would ever get his consent to marry such an out-and-out scoundrel as he was! Of course that put the climax on the trouble. Bess, with her lovely eyes full of tears, told her lover the old man’s decision, and Dick’s teeth came together hard as he listened. So it was war, was it? Well, if that was so, he would see what the law could do. In about ten days after that the trustees went out to the farms and very gravely struggled through the tangled lane and staked out the line. Then they served a notice on the two men that they must build a good legal fence there within thirty days. Uncle Joe looked on, and remarked that he knew what the law was and he'd try to live up to it. Dick went to work and cut rails and drew them to the lane for the purpose of building his part of the fence; but Uncle Joe made no move in that direction. He spent much of his time in the neighbor hood of the lane. He carried his gun most of the time. Now and then he brought home a rabbit for dinner. He bad been, so ho was fond of saying, something of a hunter in his time, and even now was counted a good shot for a man of his age. After Dick had finished splitting rails for the fence, he had sharpened his axe, and, taking a good scythe, went down to clear the ground of brushes and briars. He knew this would be no small task, but his arms were strong and his will good. Hardly an hour had he worked when a rifle shot rang out on the air and his strong right arm dropped to his side painfully wounded. So severe was his injury that he could do nothing toward discovering who fired the murderous shot, and he was alone. After he had made his way to the house, the alarm was given and a crowd of men and boys turned out and hunted the lane from end to end, but in vain; no one could be found hiding there, and the deed remained a mystery. In this way things stood for some time. Dick’s arm healed slowly somehow. The bone had been injured a little, the doctor said. Dick saw Bess now and then. He could not help noticing that the poor girl’s cheeks were growing paler day by day, and she seemed ready to. break down whenever he came to see her. Her father was home but little now. Night and day he stood guard at-the binc.ii sturdy vet eran on some self-imposed post of duty. He had even slept out in the bushes sev eral times all night, coming to his meals in the morning stiff and sore from the damp, but with a determined look on his face. Ho was a man who never yielded what he thought was right. The thirty days given by law had passed, and the Township Trustees “allowbd” to build the fence in a few days. They had watched things from a distance and knew how desperate the old man was. About this time Dick and Bess hap pened to be sitting on the porch in the harvest moonlight. Uncle Joe was out on the fence probably. Neither of the young people referred to him. As they sat thus Dick turned his eyes toward the Devil’s Lane. • What was it he saw? He sprang to his feet. Away down at the farther end of the lane a cloud of smoke curled lazily up. As he watched, the breeze freshened a little, and a lurid glare leaned angrily skyward, sweeping the fire directly down the lane. Someone had fired the undergrowth which crowded the lane. It was a time of the year when every thing was as dry as tinder. There had been no rain for weeks, and fire like that was a thing to be dreaded. Where is your father, Bess?” m The girl now rose quickly, and with startled gaze looked toward the lane. “He must be down yonder. Dick, I’m afraid—you don’t suppose—” “The bush is on fire. If your father is there he is in danger. I will go and see if lean find him.” Before the words were fairly spoken Dick had cleared the fence surrounding the farm house, and was running swiftly toward the fire, Bess following as fast as she could. How the flames did sweep through that thicket! It seemed to lick the crackling bushes up like leaves. If her father was there—no; she couldn’t bear to think what might be his fate. The old man was tired with his watching. He might have fallen asleep down there as he had so often before. Dick soon reached the lane and plunged into the bushes as near the fire as he dared. If Uncle Joe was behind hinS then nothing short of a miracle could save him. If in front, then he possibly might be rescued from death in the flames. “Don’t come in here, Bess,” shouted Dick as he saw the girl about to leap into the thick growth of brushes near him. “Go farther down and look along the fence.” Poor Bess obeyed silently. How like a very giant he seemed to her* as be tramped through the briars, mud and bushes, tearing his face and hands terri bly, bunting for the wilful old man who had wrongea him so! Now there was his right arm powerless! Did Bess know who had fired the shot that had made it so? If she did, she dutifully kept the se cret. On and on swept the flames, chasing Dick like mad demons. The lower end of the lane was in sight. That would end the search. Where was the old man ? Had he missed him? Could it be be had indeed perished? Dick’s heart had soft ened toward the old man. It was a use less quarrel. He was ashamed of his part in it. If he bad know how Uncle Joe 1 felt about it, he never would have said a word about the miserable lane. Suddenly a low cry fell on Dick's ears. - It came from the rear, where the fire wn* raging fiercely. Dick knew Uncle Joe had t>oen found. Could be reach him before it would lie too latet God help him, he would try. Nerving himself for the ordeal, he rushed back through the smoke toward the apot whence the cry proceeded. Again the rail came, this time full of horror. Plunging on, his feet hot, his breath choked, and his clothing on fire iu places, the young man heroically made hisyvay. When almost ready to drop he found Uncle Joe staggering blindly toward the place. He was fearfully burned and al most exhausted.,. ■ Seizing him with his left .arm, Dick bore him out into the meadow, and placing him on the gnAkd, roiled him over and over till the flsgmjl'Vhich were eating into his flesh wewputout. Then he fell to the earth hinjtejf unconscious. By this time Bess hiwTreached them. Quickly she wrapped Dick in her own garments, deadening the fire, and he was saved! Two months after that Dick and Uncle Joe, scarred and still weak, stag gered toward each other and clasped hands. “I’ve been a fool, or crazy Dick!” said Uncle Joe in a choked vo.t ■■ “I’m ashamed of myself. Can’t you forgive me?” “Don’t take all the blame, Uncle Joe,” was the young man’s reply. “I’ve done wrong myself. I’m - sorry, let’s forget it, and build a fence worthy the name.” That was all that was said about the Devil’s Lane. The joint fence was built, and Uncle Joe kept his part up faithfully as long as he lived. After that the two farms were thrown into one, and Dick and Bess are the happy man and wife who live on the Allen homestead. A Dyak Climber. The Hill Dyaks of Borneo are expert climbers. Mr. Hornaby, while collecting specimens of natural history, saw a Dyak ascend a large tapangtree, five feet in di ameter at the base, straight as a ship’s mast, and without the smallest limb or knot for a hundred and twenty feet up. The mau went up the tree to secure a bees’ nest hanging from the under side of the lowest limb. The nest was simply a large, naked, triangular piece of white comb. A Dyak “ladder” had been put up the previous year, and reached from the ground to the branches. It consisted of seven twenty-foot bamboo poles held almost end to end alongside the trupk by sharp pegs 'driven into the soft wood about two feet apart. The pegs were driven first on one side of 'the poles and then on the other, aad to them the bam boos were lashed by rattans, which held them firmly about eight inches from the tree. These pegs eerved as the rungs of the ladder. The builder must have been a bold man, with nerves of steel. He was obliged to let the ends of the poles over lap a few feet in order to build the ladder with safety to himself. The completion of the ladder was'jgjpet difficult. Cling ing to the slight bamboo pole, a hundred feet from tho ground, ho hauled up the last bamboo, twenfe“'” ;et long, drove in' the peg, liishetl the.* ‘fi ")• the pole, to it, and then nsefmipu'tna j •Mraiboo tor fasten it at the top. The Dyak honey-hunter fastened to his back a basket to receive the honey. Mak ing up his torch-wood, with which to smoke the bees out of the nest and away from himself, he ignited it, slung it by a cord from his neck,so that it would haug below his feet, and started up the slender “ladder.” Hand and foot he went up, peg after peg, with a nonchalant ease which would have done credit to the most daring of sailors. Even that sailor would have been pardoned if he was a little shaky, while climbing a tall factory chimney by the lightning-rod. On reach ing the lower limb, 120 feet from the ground, he took his torch in one hand, waved it to and fro,until it smoked free ly, and then crawled out along the bare branch until he was in reach of the cov eted nest. Examining it first on one side, and then on the other, he shouted down as cheerfully as if his climb had been nothing: “No honey!” Leaving the comb untouched, he descended, with a smile, and reached the ground without the least tremor. Seeing and Observing. "1 nev>r was so impressed with the dif ference between eyes and no eyes,” wrote an English author lately, in a private let ter, “as on a short journey I once made with Charles Dickens in France. “We spent half an hour in a station house waiting for a train. As we left it he said: ‘Did you see that miser sitting by the door? No doubt he has a bag full of gold buried in his garden at home. Every coin had left a crow’s foot about his eyes. Did you notice the lovers? The unsuccessful rival was there, too. fie was the bagman with the hooked nose. And the young mother with her baby?’ “ ‘I saw no baby,’ I said. “‘No; it,was dead. But the mother was with it, though she sat there alone in the crowd.’ “Now, I had seen only an indistinguish able crowd of people. I Tead no history of greed, or love, or death, in their faces.” A story with a similar meaning is told of a picture exhibited in New York a year or two ago. A wealthy merchant with his wife stopped before it. It repre sented the tower of a church covered with wild ivy, crimsoned by the frost, and in its shadow an old Italian peasant crouching over a basket of fruit. “What a picturesque effect!” ex claimed the millionaire. “Norman, eh? Or Italian ?” “The tower,” said the artist, wholiap pend to be present, “is opposite your own chamber-windows, and the fruit vender is old Lise, who has been sitting there all summer.” The merchant, no doubt, appeared ridiculous in the eyes of the artist for his lack of artistic sight. Yet it is probable that if a bundle of scraps of. cloth bad been placed before him, his eyes would have been keen to and *tect differences which the artist could noi see. Every object in the world is like a let ter of the alphabet, and each man’s eye, with differing insight and training, spells out with these letters differing words. Let us not lie too sure that onr own word is always the highest or the best; nor obt rude our method of spelling too confidently on our neighbor.— Youth'* Companion. Guest (who had lioeri elegantly served with almost nothing) --“Now, waiter, that I have struggled through eleven course* of cut-glaes, silver aud air, I be gin to fee) hungry. Bring me some corned beef and cabbage and a giant of plain I every-day water.”- Tid-HUs. BUDGET OF FUN. HUMOROUS SKETCHES FROM VARIOUS SOURCES. An Awful Fate—Not Long to Wait— W ha t. t he Pral ries I jack--Head ing Bobby Off— He will Stay, Etc., Etc. We call for the mountains and rocks to fall (HI us, We fly to the desert in fear, We shake with the terror of death hard upon „ us ’ * e tremble when he comes anear. Let the boreal storm-blast blow from the north, The deadly simoon from the south, But save us, we pray, by night or by <Vay, From the man with the cantering mouth, IVith the fast and automaton mouth, far no borrow or fright walks tho day or the night, Like the man with the cantering mouth. Oh, scare us with ghosts and wild apparitions, And goblins ana sprites of the nights And demons of darkness who go on their mis sions Through regions devoid of the light. Let the chili and the fever come down from the north, The malarial fog from the south, But save us, we plead, from that rank social weed, The man with the cantering mouth, The swift self-adjustable mouth. For no mortal can fly from the withering eye Of the man with the cantering mouth. —S. W. Fossjn Tidrßits. Not Long to Wait. Gentleman (in restaurant) —“A couple of soft-boiled eggs, waiter—not over four minutes.” . Waiter—“ Yes, sah.” Gentleman—“And I’m in a big hurry. How long will I have to wait?” Waiter—“ How long did yo’ say yo’ wan’ dem aiggs biled, boss?” Gentleman—“ Four minutes.” Waiter—“ Half an hour, sah.”— Bazar. What the Prairies Lack. Omaha Father—“ Now, Bobby, I have a little home all ready and am going back East after your mother.” Bobby (lately from the East) —“Well, I’ll be a good boy while you’re gone.” “You know I told you if you were a real good boy I’d bring you a present of your own selecting. Now what do you want ma and I to get for you?” “Bring me a big boxful of stones to throw at cats.” —Omaha World. Heading Bobby Off. Bobby (to young Mr. Featherly, a guest at dinner) —“Do you live on the top floor of your boarding house, Mr. Featherly?” Mr. Featherly—“No, Bobby, second floor front. Why!” Bobby (indifferent) —“Oh, nothing, only when Pa an’ Clara came home from the theatre last night they were saying something about light in the upper story, an’ as they were talking about you, I -VpCiMid--” Father—“ Robert, will you have an other piece of pie?"— -Meta Tort Bun. _________ "V He Will Stay. “Your husband is in Wall street, I be lieve?” she queried of the other woman. “Ycs’m.” “Very precarious business, I liave heard.” “Well, I dunno.” “But if the market takes a bad turn he is liable to lose his all.” “Oh, hardly that. He gets sll per week for running an elevator in a big building, and I never even heard him say there was a market there. I feel perfectly safe, madam —unless the elevator cables give out." —Wall Street New*. A New Wrinkle. A lather impecunious party met a friend who was sporting anew suit of clothes. “Hello!” exclaimed the former, “where did you get those new clothes 1” “Hush, it’s a secret. I’ll tell it to you if you’ll promise not to give it a^vay.” “I’ll promise.” “You know there is anew doctor in town?” “Yes.” “Well, I sit iu his waiting-room two hours every morning to make the public believe that he has got a patient.”— Texa* Sifting*. Not Contagious. Several evenings ago Major Stofah went up to Sixteenth street to sec a young lady to whom he has been very attentive for some months. She was not visible at first, and her twelve-year-old brother entertained the major. After various questions the kid remarked: “You ain’t contagious, are you?” “Why, Johnny, what do you mean by that?” asked the major with an innocent laugh of surprise. “Oh, nothin’, I guess; only I heard mother say you wasn’t, ’cause sister has been tryin’ to catch you all winter, and she couldn’t do it.” The major remained the rest of the evening, but hasn’t been back since.— Washington Critic. A Frigid Reception. Just at twilight last evening a young mau ou a Windsor ferryboat met a lady acquaintance tripping onto the boat. He walked aft with her and found her a seat, remained a moment and then excused himself to speak to a man whom he had left in the bow. After he had finished his chat he returned, plumped down in a chair drawn closely to the one where he left her, and turning in the half light to the Imly at his side said, interrogatively: “Well, Jennie, I suppose you have been very lonely without me?” “Sir!” said a voice, in freezing accents, “I do not know you.” And she didn’t. His friend, finding it cold, had gone into the cabin. —Detroit Free Press. In Shakespeare’s Place. The fame of Tabor’s opera house at Denver is world-wide, and when Mr. Tabor determined to build a theatre at Leadville he announced that he would have one built that would make his former effort at Denver look like a shed. He loudly asserted that he would knock the earth out, especially ip the decorations of the Leadville home of Thespiss He sent to Italy for his decora tor and did not go inside the Leadville structure until the Italian sent him word that lie would like his nninion, Mr. Tabor went in company witli the artist, and efter ■ sreful scrutiny expressed himself as quite satisfied. “But tell me," (juoth Mr. Tabor, “what man arc yon making famous by putting hi* portrait up there!" “Why, that is a very true presentment of Shakespeare,” replied the artist. “Who is he?” asked the ex-miner. “Why, the great dramatist, of course, and not only the greatest playright but the greatest bard as well.” “Well, he may have been a mighty big fellow, but I never heard that he did much for Leadville. Just paint him out of tliat and paint me in.” Ami Mr. Tabor's portrait overlooks the auditorium.—ln dianapolis Journal. The Mohammedan's Honrs of Prayer The Koran has fixed the hours that must be consecrated to prayers. These prayers, namaz, are five in number. The most solemn is the morning prayer. -'4t if the sabah namazi. It is uttered after the dawn, just before the .rising of the sun. The second is the midday prayer, euile namazi. The third, jHndynamazi, must be offered just before the setting of the sun. The evening prayer, aaeham namazi, is uttered just before the shadows conceal the horizon. Finally, the last and fifth prayer, yatry namazi, is uttered in the in terval after sundown ami just before dawn. The hour of prayer is regularly pro claimed to the faithful by the imams, called muezzins, who walk around the bal cony of the minarets, singing, in a melan choly voice, this unvarying litany: “God, the most high! I here proclaim that there ia no God but God. 1 proclaim that Mo hammed is the prophet of God. Come to the temple of salvation. Great God! God the most high! There is no God but God!” Blind men areusuully select ed for muezzins, or at least imams that suffer from confirmed myopia, so that they cannot throw inquisitive glances to ward the women that may lie promenad ing on the terraces of the houses. Christians surround their observance of prayer with a kind of mystery or of reserve that the Mussulmans know abso lutely nothing of. In whatever place a devout Osmanli may find himself, wheth-. or in his house, iu his shop, iu the streets, in a public square, doing busi ness, or on a visit, as soon ns the hour of the vanuiz is announced, he makes his religious preparations, places under his knees a small rug, or in default of which a handkerchief, turns his face toward Mecca, places his arms iu the shape of a cross upon his breast, or putting them to his forehead, prostrates himself, then rises—all this slowly and with strict ob servance of rules. If he is iu a street, he does uot permit himself to be distracted and disconcerted by anything, not even by the indiscreet curiosity of the Euro pean, who looks at him astonished by this novel sight, but who generally has no desire to ridicule i(; for this worship under the open sky, disregarding social conventionalities, indifferent to whatever may be said, has some ting grand and sa cred about it, that banishes all raillery and inspires respect.— 'Vosniopoliltjji. A Bonanza Malden’s Fete. Birdie Fair, tho only daughter of the Senator and bonanza king, was 11 years old last Wednesday, and in the evening her mother, Mrs. Theresa Fair, gave a fancy dress party at her residence on Pine street in honor of the event, to which about fifty of Birdie’s little friends were invited. The guests enjoyed several dances, and at 10 o’clock they marched into the dining-room, where supper was served. On the centre table was a repre sentation of the ocean and a mermaid was seen driving a team of four soft-shell crabs through the waves. She was dressed in green tulle decorated with chains of shells and a silver pond lily was in her long light hair. Tete-a-tete tables were distributed around the room and each one was adorned with lemons and oranges. The porcelain cabinet was also decorated with this fruit, and across the front was a terracotta ribbon on which, in quaint letters, was the inscription: Oranges and lemons says the bells of St. Clemens. A chime of golden bells hung over the ribbon, being irregularly arranged. On the fftce of tne lower left hand cor ner of the mantel mirror was a silver web, and the strands spread out to the other side and above, where there were branches of fruit trees in blossom. Sitting on the mantel was little Miss Muffit, whose plate of curds and whey were lAit partially con sumed owing to her fright when she. no ticed the hungry look that the big black spider in the web bestowed upon her. When everyone was seated a major-domo brought in an immense pie, which was placed before Miss Birdie to cut. The size of the pie caused her to demur a lit tle at first, but she finally cut around the edge of the top crust, which was then lifted up and two dozen live canary birds flew out of the centre and perched upon the boughs, etc. —San Francisco Chronicle. Stoves in Germany. German stoves, says a correspondent of the Charleston (S. C.) Neics, are of a large, cumbrous size, resemble a furnace in shape, but are anything else in reality. One can never catch a glimpse of flame, and from their nature, if heated in the morning, begin drawing in theafternoon. Their merit lies in the fact that they preserve a room at a uniform tempera ture, without allowing it to become hot. The favorite attitude is to lean up against them to ascertain whether they are heated or not, as there is no possible danger of scorching. The white color of the porcelain is in striking contrast to the dark iron cast of ours, and looking some thing. like an old-fashioned cupboard, a stranger never recognizes a stove in one until tne fact is mentioned. In parts of the Empire, particularly in the Rhine district, the Americun stove is being rapidly introduced, in spite of the fact that the average critic declares our stove —as most of our practices looking to comfort—to be very unhealthy. A Verse on Mr. Beecher’s Name. “Sneaking of clover things,” once said Mr. Beecher, “did you ever hear that good poem written twenty years ago on my name? Here, Ma |hc always called Mrs. Beecher Ma], you read it to Perkins; I’ve forgotten the words." Mrs. Beecher smilingly put on her glasses, went to a drawer, took out a bit of pH|>er, and laugh ingly read: “Halil a gnat fongregsUonsl preacher To a lira: ‘You’re a beautiful ■-mature;’ The lien just for that Labi tlirts- eggs in his Itat, And thusdbl the lieu reward Bec-clier," on DOUAB rtr ‘ I> I, || THE HOUSE THAT LOVE BUILT. Love built a house for his very own; Not of spicy woods, not of brick and stone; Not of polished marble, with all the rooms Hung with fabric*from Eastern looms; Nor of jewels held in dazzling man; Nor of gold or silver, or gleaming brass, With spl—idor like to a looking-glass, Was the beautiful house that love built. No, no indeed. But no palace fair With this wonderful structure can compare. Though you search from Jericho to Japan, From Salamanca to Ispahan, And travel many a weary mile, You’ll And, in ancient or modern style, No building so grand as the lofty pile— The beautiful house that love built Of what was it built? Of a sigh—a glance— £*. iil'X ' - - the hand—a song—a dance, A smile, or a whisper—who can tell? As it evoked by a magic spell, In dazzling splendor it rose and rose, ’Neath tropic sun, or mid Arctic snows, And still in its radiant beauty grows The wonderful house that love built Tis a palace—a temple—a holy shrine— Fashioned according to love’s design, And set in the light of a cheerful sun— Where two hearts enter and dwell as one. And though, alas! on this earthly ball Wreck and ruin must come to all, There is no ruin so great as the fall Of the beautiful house that love built —Josephine Pollard, in Good Cheer. PITH AM[POINT. A swell affair—inflating a balloon.— Sittings. It's a wise child that resembles its rich est relative.— Danville Breeze. “My heart goes out to thee,” hummed the gambler, as he passed the ace of that suit under the table to his “pal.”— Tidr Bits. Lillie Cushman prints a poem entitled “Unknown is Best.” But how does Lillio know what is best, if it is unknown?— Hartford Journal. People who declare most loudly their ability to puddle their own canoe are gen erally tho people who haven’t got a canoe. Somerville Journal. It rends "New Maple Sugar.” But then, it knows it lies, For last year's date is plainly seen Stamped oh by last year’s flies. —Danville Breeze. A Boston paper recently published a communication on “The Model Wife,” and 2,000 Boston husbands swore next morning that they wrote it.— Albany Argus. “Sunday is the golden clasp which hinds together the volume of the week.” It is also a good time, and usually accept ed as such, for a man to pull off nia boots and try all the corn and bunion remedies accumulated during the six pre ceding clays.— Hartford Journal. WORDS Ol* WISDOM. 11l sowers makcs.jll harvest. The boughs that bear most hang lowest. Life is half spent e’er we know what it is. lie who begius many things finishes but few. Mortifications arc often more painful thuu real calamities. Men’s years and their fruits are always more than they are willing to own. The silent man may be overlooked now, but he will get a hearing by and by. If wc do not flatter ourselves, the flattery of others will not be able to injure us. When the forenoons of life are wasted there is not much hope of a peaceful evening. Tim heart thut is fullest of good works has in it tho least room for the tempta tions*of the enemy. Bad custom, consolidated into habit, is such a tyrant that men sometimes cling to vices, even while they curse them. Vicious habits are so odious and de grading that they transform the individual who practises them into an incarnate demon. When two start in the world together, he that is thrown behind, unless his mind proves generous, will be displeased with the other. Life is never all work or sorrow; and happy hours, helpful pleasures, are merci fully given like wayside springs to pilgrims trudging wearily along. Beer Among the Ancientg. A German professor has succeeded iu tracing the origin of beer to the land of ’the pyramids. An ancient papyrus has revealed the wrath of an Egyptian father who had convicted his sou of the deplor able habit of lounging about the Nile taverns and guzzling beer. From Egypt the art of manufacturing “liquid bread,” as the professor affectionately describes his favorite bcerage, was introduced into Ethiopia and the heart of Africa, where perpetual summer made it seasonable all the year round. The Roman Empire de clined because amoug other things, it despised beer and was beguiled by Stronger but less wholesome fluids. The Northern races overran Italy, according to the same authority, because they had learned to live on bread and beer. En thusiasm certainly carried the learned professor a long way; and perhaps he has not reached the end of his archaic re searches. Is he certain that the Israelites did not have beer with their manna; or that there was not a fresh brew served betimes in Eden?— New York Tribune. Why a Sea Voyage Restores Health. The air of the sea, taken at a great dis tance from land, or even on the shore and iu jiort when the wind blows from the open, is in an almost perfect state of purity. Near continents the laud winds drive before them an atmosphere always impure, but at one hundred kilometres off from the coasts tills impurity has dis appeared. The sea rapidly purifies tho liestilential atmosphere of continents; hence every expanse of water of a certain breadth becomes an olietacle to the pro pagation of epidemics. Marine atmo spheres driven upon land purify sensibly the air of the regions which they traverse; this purification cun tie recognized us far as I'nrie. Thu sea is the tomb of moulds and of aerial w hizopbytes,— MM. Moreau anti Miguel. Unison and kindness are the great promoter* of that harmony aud hilarity which generate friendship and affection. NO. 11.