Newspaper Page Text
VOL XII.
ELLIJAY COURIER.
PUBLISHED EVERT THURSDAY
—IT—
COLIMAN * KIRBY.
GENERAL DIRECTORY.
Superior Court meets 3d Monday in
May and 2nd Monday in October.
COUNTY OFFICERS.
J. C. Alien, Ordinary.
T. W. Cruigo, Clerk Superior Court.
M. L. Cox, Sheriff.
J. It. Kinciod, Tax Collector.
Locke Langley, Tax Itecciver.
Jas. M. West, Surveyor.
O. W. Rice, Coroner.
Court of Ordinary meets Ist Monday
iu each mouth.
TOWN COUNCIL.
E. W. Coleman, Intendant.
L. B. Greer,
J.' ?<2S?Jr. Commissioners.
T. J. Long,
W. H, Foster, Marshal.
RELIGIOUS SERVICES.
Methodist Episcopal Church South—
Every 3d Sunday and Saturday before.
G. W. Griner.
Baptist Church—Every 2nd and 4 h
Sunday, by Itev. E. B. Shope.
Methodist Episcopal Church—Every
Ist Saturday and Sunday, by Rev. T. G.
i hiise.
FRATERNAL RECORD.
Oak Bowery Lodge, No. 81, F. A. M.,
meets Ist Friday in each month.
L. B. Greer, W. M.
T. 11. Tabor, S. W.
-7. W. llipp, J. W.
R. Z. Roberts, Treasurer.
D. Garrcn,S ecrctary.
W. S. Coleman, S. D.
7V. C. Allen, J. D.
S. Garren, Tyler.
R. T. PICKENS,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
ELLL7.tr, GEORGIA.
Will practice iu all the conrts of Gil
m> r and ad joining counties. Estates
tod interest in land a specialty. Prompt
attention given to all collections.
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 calls promptly filled.
E. W. COLEMAN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
ELLIJAY, GA.
'Will practice in R u • RiJgo Circuit, Ccnnty .
f*• 'iirt Justice Coiiit >f (iilincr County. Legal
fetiflincsn .-olicittd. "I'i oioptiiesM" ia our motto.
DR. J. S. TANKERSLEY.
Physician aud Burgeon,
Tend' re liis professional services to the citi
erne of Ellijuy, Gilm*r and surrounding conn
All calls promptly attend -.1 to. Office
cpa tails over the firm of Cobb & Son.
ifIFE WALDO THORNTON, D.D.S.
DENTIST,
Calhoun, Ga.
Will visit Ellijay and Morgnnton 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. Tmavill-lv
WHITE PATH SPRINGS!
—THE—
Favorite and Popular Retort 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,
Mrs. W. F. Robertson,
Ellijay, Ga,
$25,000.00
IN GOLD!
Mill, III! PAID FOR
SBBDCKIES' COFFEE MAPPERS.
1 Premium, - - $1,000.00
2 Premiums, - $500.00 each
0 Premiums, • $250.00 “
25 Fremiums, - SIOO.OO “
100 Premiums, - $50.00 “
200 Premiums, - $20.00 11
1,000 Premiums, • SIO.OO '*
For full particulars and directions ee© Circu
lar in every iiomid of Arbuceles' Copras.
FOB GOOD
JOB PRINTING
—GO TO THB—
ELLIJAY COURIER.
THE ELLIJAY COURIER
THE THREE RUL-EHS.
I sw • Ruler take his stand.
And tramp), ou a mighty land.
The People crouched before his heck
His iron heel was on their neck;
His name shone bright t hrough 1 dood and pain,
His sword flashed bock their praise again.
I saw another Ruler rise,
His words wore noble, good, and wise;
YVith the calm sceptre of his pen
He ruled the minds and thoughts of men.
Some scoffed,some praised; while many heard,
Only a few obeyed his word.
Another Ruler then I saw,
Love and street Pity were bis law;
The greatest and the least had part
(Yet most the unhappy) in his heart
The People, in a mighty band,
Rose up, and drove him from the land.
—Adelaide IVoctor.
THE NEWSCHOLAR.
“A cow-boy, Mr. Dean!”
“A genuine cow-boy, Miss Allen.”
The teacher frowned, and the superin
tendent smiled; then slie broke into a
suppressed laugh, and he looked per
plexed.
“Why did you bring him to me? What
in the world shall I do with him?”
“What shall I do with him?” asked the
tall gentlemuu, helplessly. “lie is with
in the school age—nineteen, he says.”
“He looks older.”
“Yes; von must allow for sun and wind
and rough living. He intends to live a
year in this town, and he wants to go to
school. 1 must put him somewhere. I
can’t buy a cage lor him, and label him
‘Specimen from the Wild West.’”
“I should almost think you might.
What is the native locality of the ‘speci
men’?”
“He says,” replied Mr. Dean, deliber
ately, “that his last range was between
Crazy-Woman Creek and Rad-Water
Slough.”
“Oh dear! But how and why and
when did lie get iuto civilization?”
“I have no idea.”
“lie is so largo and so old for a primary
school?”
“lie is very ignorant. He cannot pos
sibly do the work of a higher grade. I
brought him to you because lie needs a
very good teacher.
Miss Allen was really troubled. The
Superintendent's little compliment failed
to clour away the clouds. They had
been till king in. low tones, us they paced
the hall, ami now they paused at the
open school-room door.
It was a very pretty school-room. There
were pictures on tlie walls, flowers in the
wiudows, vases and an embroidered table
spread op the teacher’s desk. The chil
dren were neat and clean. There was an
atmosphere of order and of dainty tidi
ness about tlic place, and the place suited
well with the young and pretty teacher.
But this up behind
the rows of little girls in trim black
stockings and short frocks; behind the
little boys iu scarlet hose and Knicker
bocker—hopelessly big, untrained and
out of place, sat the new scholar.
Iu his way, lie was neither ugly nor
awkward. He wore a tlanuel shirt with
a red silk neck handkerchief, and he
held in his hand his huge light sombrero,
ornamented with a wide band of red
leather, and with a gilt cord; but the
rest of his dress was subdued to the
standard of Eastern civilization. His
complexion showed that clear, bright red
which marks the pure sunshine of the
great plains. This, and his light hair
and keen blue eves, broad shoulders, and
lean, muscular frame, would have made
him auexceedingly picturesque “subject”
for an artist; but—iu a primary school!
“I am positively afraid of him!” said
Miss Allen. “What if he should take it
into his head to scalp us all 1”
“Send for me at the first flourish of
the tomahawk,” said Mr. Dean, with a
laugh.
“But, honestly, I have no doubt that
he carries pistols. Cowboys always do,
they say.”
“I believe so. I will look into that
matter. Now, seriously,” and his face
became grave, “I know what a hard
tning I have given you to do, but it is in
the line of plain duty to do it well. This
young man may be here to make trouble.
In that case we shall very soon know it,
aud I promise ydn that Ids career shall be
short. But it is possible that he comes to
study and because he would like to make
something of himself. If lie wants a
chance, it is our business, as public
school teachers, to see that he has it.”
“He shall have his chance, if I can
help him,” said the teacher, earnestly.
“1 am sure of that. And now for the
pistol. James! James Ferguson I Coipc
here, please. Have you firearms about
you?” he asked, abruptly, thinking to
teke the boy by surprise, and so get at
the truth.
Jim. who had a tolerably keen sense of
the fitness of things, had no more idea of
taking his pistol to school than he had of
presenting himself with spurs, “cuirtaud
sbapps.”
But every cow-boy feels himself in
duty bound to make an impression on a
“tenderfoot” whenever the “tenderfoot”
shows himself ready to be impressed.
Jim’s blue eyes twinkled, but he gravely
felt in his pockets.
“Thunder !” said he. “Taint here. I
must have been rattled this mornin’. I
can rustle around and got it fer you, and
be back before general round up.”
“No ! no !” cried the good gentleman,
and explained what Jim knew perfectly
well before, that the pistol must not and
could not come buck to school. He felt
that he had in some way blundered with
the boy, but he did not know how.
“What do you think of the school ?”
he asked, kindly laying one hand on the
boy’s shoulders.
“Pretty slick little outfit 1” replied
Jim.
“Hem I Well, James, I hope you will
do well. I shall advance you as soon as
you can do the work of a higher grade.”
As Mr. Dean and Jim stood together,
it was evident that the cow-boy was not
very tall. But there was a breeziness,
an out-of-door roominess, that would
have made him too large for any space
inside of four walls.
It was not long before Miss Allen knew
from Jim himself why lie, was there. Bhe
was told how Jim’s father had left the
State when Jim was only a yearling, ami
bow he was a white kind of a man, Imt
couldn’t seem to gather ou to anything.
And first, Jim’s mother hud dial, and
then bis fatbsr, and lsft biui to rustle for
“4 HAP OP BUST LIFM-ITB FLUCTUATIOXS AND ITS VAST CONCERNS."
ELLIJAY. GA.. THURSDAY, JULY *l4. 1887.
himself. And he had done it, too, until
now. But an uncle down East had just
looked him up, and had offered to do
something for him. This uncle had
promised Jim a good team and a little
buueh of rattle if he would come hero
aud go to school a whole year.
“The vary day school ia out," Jim went
on, “I shall start for the West. When
I’m of age I mean to get a claim, and put
my stock on it. Then I’ll be apt to
quit cow-punching, and turn sod-pelter.”
_ All this was not very encouraging to
his teacher. It was plain that Jim in
tended to stay the whole long year, and
it was only too plain that he did not care
for an education, and thought of the
schooling only as a disagreeablo st epping
stone to the team and bunch of cattle.
On the other hand, I am afraid that
Miss Allen knew and eared as little
About stock-raising in the West as Jim
did about spelling and grammar. Beside,
she had no idea that a ‘ ‘sod-pelter” meant
a farmer, and she had a shadowy notion
that Jim meant to devote the remainder
of his existence to throwing clods of
grass, like the old man in ths spelling
book. '
The days of that week passed rather
slowly for Miss Allen. She tried hard to
accept Jim’s presence in a missionary
spirit, but, in truth, he was a perpetual
trial to her order-loving, sympathetic
soul. He was not bad, but he was so
big! He seemed to try to do right, but
he was so utterly untraiued in the ways
of the school room that every motion was
a blunder.
And yet, in his own sphere, Jim had a
skill they never dreamed of. His grace
and accuracy with horse and gun and
lariat would have been a marvel to any
man in that city. Perhaps he felt his
present inferiority even more than his
teacher did. Perhaps the days were
wearily long to him, and the year seemed
eudlcss in prospect.
Miss Allen had planned a school picnic
for Saturday, and on Friday the children
were full of excitement about it. One
of them told her that Jim wasn’t going.
At first she was rather relieved to hear it,
but when she entered the school-room she
was touched by the homesick look ou the
boy’s face.
“James,” said she, kindly, “I am
afraid our life hero does not seem quite
natural to you.”
“I’m afraid not,” answered James,
dryly; and then added, with a hurst of
confidence: “Why, Miss Allen, in all
this week I liaiut seen nor heard but just
one thing that seemed natural tome, and
that was the story you was a-readin’ us
aljput that old ranchman that pastured on
tho Government land.”
“What I” cried his teacher, in blank
astonishment.
“That had such a big bunch of sons,
you know: and they was his cowboys.”
“But I haven’t read any such story,”
said Miss Allen.
“Why, yes, don’t you remember?” said
Jim. “And one day, when they was off
-on the. range, the. old man sent-tire little
kid out from the home ranch to look ’em
up, and find out how they was.”
“No,” said the young lady; “I never
read you a story like that.”
“Perhaps you don’t remember,” said
Jim, “but I do, because it seemed natur
al. Aud the kid went on, and got where
he thought they was; and he found they
had moved the whole bunch on to anoth
er range. And when he did find them,
they chucked the little kid into a big
wash-out, and then pulled him out ana
sold him to tho Indians. ”
“James I”
“That’s what you said,” continued
Jim, respectful but positive. “I don’t
remember what the book called ’em, but
you said they was the same as the Araps
in tho geography. That’s what we call
the Arapahoes.”
“The Arabs!” exclaimed Miss Allen.
“It is possible that you mean the story of
Joseph and his brethren?”
“That’s it 1” answered Jim. “I couldn’t
think of tho name. Poor little kid! We
wouldn’t treat no little kid that way.
That part wasn’t natural.”
Miss Atlen did not know how exactly
the present life on the great plains is rep
resented by some passages of the Old
Testament. She concluded to postpone
the matter of Biblical exegesis, and said,
•cheerfully: “You will get used to us in
time, I hope, James.”
“I don’t know.” said Jim, rather dole
fully. “When a iellow’s been a maverick
long as I have, it comes rather rough to
be rounded-up and roped and branded,
even if they ao put him into a nice little
corral like this. And then, an old ranger
like me hates to trot along with the
calves.”
Miss Allen did not understand this
speech very well, but she felt that her
new pupil was homesick and lonely, and,
like the good little woman that she was,
she spoke so kiudly that her simple
words went straight to the boy’s heart.
He replied only “thank you,” but she
was astonished to see that the tears
flashed into his eyes as he spoke.
With anew interest in him, she said,
sincerely and cordially: “I hope you
will go to the picnic to-morow, James.
You will like to see something of the
country, I think.”
“I’ll come If you want me,” said
Jin).
Gray’s Park could hardly be called
“the country.” To be sure, it was a
wild and picturesque little spot, but after
all there were only a few acres of land,
set off by the city for public recreation.
The river runs by Gray’s Park, playing
with pebbles and trailing willow
branches like a peaceful country river;
but a little farther down the stream it
E lunges with a mighty hustle and roar of
usiness down a great dam. Here are
clustered the city mills, and in the
quietest part of Gray’s Park you can
hear the whir-r-r of machinery mingled
with the noises of the streets.
The picnic was like other school-pic
nics. The children ran and shouted,
brought Miss Allen a wonderful collec
tion of flowers and leaves and pebbles,
ate too much dinner, got their feet wet,
and found a mud-turtle.
It was almost time to go homo. Miss
Allen had repacked the lunch baskets,
| and Jim had taken down the swing,
j though he climbed rather awkwardly,
and (lectured that he “felt like a tender
foot in a tree."
He lay by the water’s edge, coiling the
rope im.oii bis left arm, and haudliug it
rather wistfully. Jim could do wonder
ful things with a rope. Jf fie had been
alone he would have tried a few of his
okl throws, ulthough ha might have
found it rather tame practice, on foot,
ioatoad of on hortbsek, and with an old
stump for a target, instead of • gallop
ing steer.
Miss Alien sat near him, on a rustic
•eat made of a twisted hemlock tree.
Jim had come to liks hU teacher, and
to want to please her, .and he kuew that
his cowboy accomplishments made her
rather uneasy. In fact, the young lady
thought of the plftinaman's life as an
acted sensation novel.
“This is a pretty place, isn’t it?” she
said.
“Yes,” answered Jim. rather doubt
fully; “hut it seems shut in, sort of.
There ain’t no stirring in these parts, ami
the trees is in the way • good deal. You
can’t see much."
“But the rocks and tbs river, you like
them, do you not?”
“I don’t like the river much, either;
I’m afraid of the water.’?*
“But I thought you were afraid of
nothing 1 ” “I don’t likq the water,
though,” said-Jim. “1 nfever could see
the use of ns much as ; ou Eastern folks
have lyin’ about. You could’t hire me
to get into a boat.”
“I should not try, it£ here,” replied
the lady, smiling. “It picks quiet, but
the current is very dtigerous. Just a
little further down, they sayAhat no man
could manage a boat.”,'*
“Would he ga ove: the dam?” he
asked.
“Yes, and be dashed to pieces on the
rocka beneath. This is not a good boat
ing river. There is a Stretch of a milo or
so, above this, where amall craft can go,
aud a few. of the gentlemen who own
these houses keep little pleasure-boats.
But above that the channel is too
shallow, and below it ft dangerous.”
“It don’t seem a vary good place for
the kids,” mused Jim.
“For the children , James.”
“For the children. If you had ’em
out on the prairie, they'd be safer.”
“Why,” exclaimed .Miss Allen, “I
wouldn’t trust myself on the prairie, to
say nothing of the children 1 They say
there are rattlesnakes there. ’’
“Yes,” admitted Jim,'“there is some
rnttlcsmakcs. But it’s safer tlmu this, I
think.”
While those two had; been working
and talking, something had happened
that, beyoud all quest! >u, never should
have happened at 1)11. The children
kuew better than to get into any boat
without permission, aud in this case they
knew, too, that they were meddling with
private property.
Nevertheless, when a party of little boys
and girls, wandering up the bank, came
upon a beautiful greeii-and-wliite boat
snugly hidden in a tiny ftuye where no
boat had ever been before, then all the
trouble began.
First they stopped to examine aud
admire; and' then two little bpys
jumped in, and begun to rock from side
to side, and to tell how they dared ride
away down to the mill-dam in her; find
next two little girls thought they would
get in, too, if ‘ho boysAwnuldn’t rock;
and the boys pTßhiTe<i7ifsHli a sffiv.i-ric
side-speech about girls and ’fraid-ents;
and soon all four were seated on the
pretty green-and-white benches.
Then, in someway, the boat got adrift.
Perhaps the boat was only drawn upon
the sand, and tho rocking pushed it off.
Perhaps some mischievous boy untied the
rope. At all events, it was caught by
the current, and began to glide down tho'
treacherous stream.
When Mis3 Alien heard the screams,
and looked from the frantic group on the
shore to the tiny boat out on the river,
her very heart seemed to stand still. To
stay so near, aud safe and well, yet utter
ly powerless, while those children in her
care sped on to death! Her senses
swam.
The sunny sparkles on the river shone
in her eyes like electric flashes. She
seemed to sco, already, the little faces,
cold and dead) and thu limbs all crushed
and mangled, and she heard the reproach
ful cries of their parents.
And Jim—who might, at least, have
run swiftly and given the alarm—wliat
was Jim doing?
Nothing.
Or next to nothing; so it seemed.
He did not even rise at first. One
glance up the river with his keen blue
eyes, and he went on working at his rope.
He was making a loop of on end. He
did not seem to hurry, but he wusted no
motion.
Holding the loop in his right hand,
while the coils still hung upon his left
arm, he waded through the shallow shore
water to the edge of the deeper channel.
His quick glance seemed to take in every
thing, the current, tho river-bottom, and
the banks. Even the light wind from
the west was tested an instant with his
upheld hand. There was no hurry, no
flutter, but every nerve was awake, and
every muscle true to call.
The boat was moving faster now. She
quivered and thrilled with tho strong
and dangerous current. She has floated
past.
_No I Look 1 With one supple motion,
Jim has thrown his- loop. It speeds
through the air like a live thing, and
falls, true to aim, just where the
frightened children can grasp it best.
Quick as thought, Jim moves with the
boat, managing the rope so that it shall
not tighten to soon. Above the medley
of sounds rises his clear, ringing voice,
and they hear and obey his rapid direc
tions.
“Pass the rope the long way of the
boat! Every one take hold 1 Now—
hold fast.”
They do hold fast. Eight little hands,
with the strength of desperation, clutch
the rope. With a long, steady, even
pull, Jim heads the boat for the shore,
and grounds it on the shallows.
Here my story might end, if Jim had
known how to wade in a pebbly-bottom
river. But as he laid hold of the prow,
and pulled with all his strength to draw
it further up, his foot slipped among the
srnooth, water-worn stones, and he fell
heavily, aud struck his head upon u
sharp rock. And when, ut last, some
men came running to help, they found
the children safe on shore, but Jim lay
senseless iu the shallow, while Miss
Allen, with her pretty dress ail soaked
and clinging, held his head out of the
water.
Of course, Jim waa the hero of the day.
He professed great chagrin because he
waa “fool enough to hurt himself,” Imt
he was no less u hero because he spent u
few duyaiu a sick room.
Then the fathers of the rescued children
met in aoleum conclave to decide what
they should do for Jim. There was
talk of a subscription and a presentation,
hut good sense aud good taste prevailed,
and they decided to offer him nothing ex
cept their heartfelt thanks: but to keep
the boy in sight.and when the time came,
to do him sulwtantial service. *
I think that when Jim goto ready to
settle on his claim, he will have as liberal
a personal outfit as any young ‘*sod-
| letter" need desire.
But the mothers could not wait so long
before they testified their gratitude, aud
Jim declares that before be left his room
ho had dressing-gowns and slippers
enough to fit out all the Boston dudes
east of the Mississippi. Long before the
doctor lmd thought it possible, Jim was
back in the school-rooui, very pule and
thin, though, and with a long red scar
down one cheek.
“I guess I got branded for keeps, that
time,” says Jim.— Tbufh's'Xlompanion.
household" matters.
'■
Doing Up Imcc. .
Laces rubbed, starched and. ironed are
rarely fit to wear again; but good lace
may be dono up so as to be kept looking
fresh long after it is really old and 1
worn.
Laces that require doing up should lie
basted carefully between folds of thin
Wmslin and put into cold, soft water, to
every pint of which must bo previously
administered a teuspoonful of aqua am
monia and sufficient white soap to make
good suds. Let the water noil a few
minutes, and, if the laces ore not then
clean, pour off the liquid and put in oold
water as before; continue to do so until
the articles and thoroughly cleansed.
Never wring out lace—always squeeze
it between folds of muslin. If clear lacc
is required, put a little bluing in tho
rinse water; if the old-time yellowish
tinge is wished, a few tciispoonfuls of
strong coffee in the rinse water will givo
the requisite hue. Lace must never bo
stiff, but a lit tie of the limpness may l>o
taken off, if desirable, by puttiug a little
dissolved gum arabic in the rinse water.
Now press the clean, rinsed laces be
tween folds of white muslin, till they aro
as dry us they cuu bo mndo iu this way;
then pin each article out smoothly and iu
its shape on a pillow, and with a fine
needle pick out and raise up every stem
aud leaf and thread to its proper place.
Vcntllutiiig Hitchens.
Some writer says: “Our grandmothers
got their bowed shoulders by cooking at
the hearth before stoves were known."
Tho women of this age will not be bet ter
off unless stoves are raised, so that u
woman can work at them without curv
ing her spine. There is too- little atten
tion given to making kitchen work easy,
.even iu these days of improved methods.
Stoves, tables und siuks should all he
;uadc high enough for one to stand at
and work comfortably without stooriing.
Another thiug thut needs looking utter is
the imperfect ventilation of kitchens.
Physicians say that more eases of neu
ralgia come from overheated air than
faun, being is*pos< and to draughts. The
foul air of the sink und tho odors of cook
ing bring ou many cases of blood poison
ing. The gills who Uvo constantly in
kitchens do not notice the had air, but
housekeepers should see that, there is a
way to insure ventilation. Not long ago
a servant waa taken ill, and the ladies of
the house who took up her work were
unable to stand even lot a day the Im
pure drainage, but the “girl” could work,
week in and week out, without any care
given to the sanitary condition of the
kitchen. Our grandmothers had a sim
ple method of disinfecting which has
gone out of fashion, and which was to
sprinkle brimstone on a shovel of hot
coals and carry the burning result through
the house. —Detroit Tribune.
Recipes.
Milk Soup.— Four potatoes, two
onions, two ounces of butter, quarter of
uu ounce of salt, pepper to taste, one
pint of milk, three tahlespoonfuls tapi
oca. Boil slowly all tho vegetables with
two quarts of water. Strain through
the colander. Add milk and tapioca.
Boil slowly und stir constantly for twenty
minutes.
Chocolate Caramels. —One pint of i
sugar dissolved in a wineglass of vinegar, :
half u cup of butter, one cupful of grated !
chocolate, boil until quite thick, put in i
buttered tins, and cut in squares when
partly cooled. Instead of vinegar you
can use water flavored with essence of
vunillu, and they will be finer, but u
little vinegar keeps them from sugaring.
Scolloped Cabbage.— Boil a firm
cabbage in two waters. Drain and press,
and let it get perfectly cold. Then mince
fine, nda two tahlespoonfuls of melted
butter, two eggs well beaten, three table
spoonfuls of cream or milk, pepper and
salt to your fancy. Put into a buttered
cake dish, sift fine crumbs on top, and
bake, covered, half an hour, then brown
delicately.
Coffee Cake. —Pour one cup of boil
ing hot strong coffee on one cup of lard
or pork fat, ndd one cup of molasses, one
cup of brown sugar, three well-beaten j
eggs, one teaspoonful each of cloves, i
cinnamon, allspice, one-half of nutmeg, I
one teaspoonful of soda dissolved in a
little warm water, flour enough to make
a stiff halter. Bake in sheet-iron pan
one hour and a half in a slow oven.
Eoo Salad. —Boil eight eggs for
twenty minutes, then pluuge them iuto ;
cold water for a minute or two; take '
them out, remove their shells aud mince '
the yolks and the whites separately, j
Spread the bottom of a dish with a layer -
of crisplettuee, over this a layer of water- 1
cress, then a layer of the minced whites !
of the egg, topping it with the minced !
yolks. Make a hole in tlic middle of all '
and pour in a good Mayonnaise dressing. |
Ragout of Liver. —Heat three or four
spoonfuls of nice dripping in a frying-j
pan, add an onion, sliced, u tablespoon- |
ful of ehopped panley, anil tiirice as i
much minced breakfast bacon ; when all ,
are hissing hot lay in the liver cut in
pieces as long und wide us your middle
finger, and fry brown, turning often; take 1
out the liver und keep \\ irm in a covered
hot-wuter dish; strain the gravy, rinse !
out the frying-)Min, and return to the fire
witli the gravy aud un even tablespoonful
of butter worked up well in two of
browned flour. Stir until you have a
smooth, browned roux, thin gradually |
with half u cupful of boiling water and
the juice of hulf a lemon, add a teaspoon - j
ful of minced piclcl •a- a scant half tea 1
spoonful of curry jiowder wet with cold
water. Boil sharply, pour over the liver,
put fresh boiling water in the |niii under
the dish, aud let all stand closely colored
for teu minutes before serving
BUDGET OF FUN.
HUMOROUS SKETCHES. FROM
VARIOUS SOURCES.
Not Quite the Same Thing—A Terri
ble Revenge <'lron instances
Alter Cases—A Kicking
Mule Cured, Etc.
Indignant Customer—“ Look here, I’ve
bren waiting here for tho last half hour.”
Waiter—‘•That’s nothing. I’ve been
waiting here for the last two years, and
1 ain’t kicking about it, either."—Sift
ings.
v ’ *
*. ’"
• A Terrible Revenge.
Gray—"Binith insulted me so terribly
to-day That I feci mad enough to kill
him."
Green—“ What’s the matter?”
Gray—“ Nothing.; A there matter often
dollars I owe litnaJbT a couple of years
or sa The mean fellow that he is, called
me a swindler and a scoundrel, and a
great many other names.”
Green—“And you feel mod enough to
kill him?”
Gray—“l do.”
Green—"Then do it. Pay him his ten
dollars and the surprise will kill him.”
—Boston Courier.
Circumstances Alter Cases.
“See here, Garibaldi,” said a gentle
man who was h iving fiis boots shined,
“haven’t you breathed abopt enough on
those boots? I’m in a big hurry.”
Garibaldi hastily completes the job,
and in response to a dime says:
“Notta centachange.”
,‘Well, go and get it.”
Garibaldi goes and gets , two nickels,
one of which he reluctantly turns over.
“Ciirnmlm!” says Garibaldi," “ze sig
nor in no too liigga hurry to wuita for zo
change."-*- JV'ir York Sun.
Ali cking Mule Cured.
A crowd of boys,men aud women wero
sur round lug u man, a cart aud amulo up
iu Brewery town this morning. ' The man
was trying to iiiducu tlic uiulo to pull tho
cart out of the rut. By the way of in
ducement lie several times attempted to
hit the recalcitrant animal \vith u short
cowhide. As the distance lie kept was
too respectful the mule was never
touched, hut lie kicked all ttie same.
“Vy, you dim’d euro dot mool of kick
in’?” asked a rotund'resident.
“Mules can’t he cured o’ kickin',” re
plied the owner of tho cart uud animal.
“Oh, yes (ley cun, my /round. Efcry
dime he dries to kick just keteh him py
de hint logs feu dey are iu do air. I know
uuiati vot dried it uud he has nefer seen
a mool kick since." —Philadelphia Call.
Not. Hnrati.
A messenger boy who came up Lafay
ette ttvcnwrthe- ti)©r day found a young
mun waiting for him at Shelby street,
and when tlic buy halted he was anx
iously asked:
“Well, did you deliver tho basket of
flowers?”
“Of course.”
“Did she smile?”
“Not a bit.”
“She didn’t? Slic must havo seen the
card.”
“Oh, yes, she read that tho first thing,
and then she culled the cook into tho
hall und told her to lieuve the basket into
the backyard.”
“Great Scots! But could that have
been my Sarah?”
“Oh, no, sir. It was your Sarah’s
mother.” —Detroit Free Pre*.
Forgot to “ Belter."
An undemonstrative husband caused
his wife some chagrin on board u train
recently. A Chicago journal says that
in a railroad accident near that city a
woman was shaken very severely and
could not speak for some time, although
conscious of what was taking place
aro'und her. Some of the passengers
thought she was dead. Her husband
(eared so too, but instead of giving way
to unavailable grief he flew around doing
all he could for his wife’s recovery. When
the was pronounced out of danger she
said, reproachfully:
“John!”
“Well, Samantliy?”
“You didn’t heller a bit there when
they all thought I was dead.”
“Well, Samanthy,”said John, in some
confusion, “ye see I was flying around
trying to bring ye to. I didn't have no
time to beller.”
“Yes, John,” said the old lady,feebly,
wit!) a suggestion of tears in her voice,
“but couldn’t ye beller a little bit now,
John, jest fer the looks of things?”
“Why, Samantliy, if T was to beller
bow, folks would sav I was doin’ it’cause
you was going to gft well.”
“I never thought o’ that,” said the old
lady sadly. “I wish to goodness, John,
you’d bcllered some at the right time 1
'Twould have been real comfortin’ to
me.”
Not in Confidence.
“If you arc going around alone you
had better look out for confidence men,”
Mid the special officer at the Detroit,
Grand Haven and Milwaukee Depot to a
Seen-lookiug young man who was wait
g to go to Pontiac.
“Oh, 1 know all about that racket,”
replied the stranger, ns he slanted his bat
m little higher over his ear.
“All right—don’t blame me.”
The young man went up Brush street
and was gone three-quarters of an hour,
and when he returned he said to the ofii
cer:
“I’ll have to wait over until to-morrow
to get a check cashed.”
■“Have you got a check?”
“Yes-look here. Lenta fellow (32
to pay duties on some horses and he gavo
me his cheek for SOO. Purty good ex
change for a greenhorn, eh?
“Youug man, you havo been con
fidcnccd!"
“No!"
“But you have? That check is worth
less! I told you to buwure of the con
fidence game.”
“And! did. No one lias my con
fidence. This was simply a business
transaction. I lent him $33 iu cash, and
be gave me his check for sllO. Where’s
the confidence about that!”
The mutter was explained to him, aud
the way he started for police headquar
ter* made thu sidewalk smoko Detroit
Free Prm
on DOLUft Pw 4*l—l b “
DIFFERENCES.
The King can drink the bat of win*.
So have I;
And cannot order rain nor (Mae,
Nor can I. *
Then where’s the difference—let me SO©.*
Bewixt my lord the king and met
Do trusty friends surround his thron
Night and dayt
Or make his interest thoii; own?
No, not they.’
And that's one difference which I so
Betwixt my lord the king and me.
Do knaves around me lie and wait
To deceive,
Or fawn and flatter when they hate,
And would grieve?
Or cruel pomp* oppress my state
By my leave? *
No, Heaven be thanked! and here'you see
More differences 'twixt the king and me.
Ho has his fools, with jests and quips,
When he'd play,
He has bis armies and his ships—
Great are they.
But not a child to kiss his lips—
Well-a-day
And that's difference sad to seel
Betwixt my lmd the king and me. ■£'
I wear a cap and he the crown—
What of that? I
I sleep on straw and he on down—
What of that?
And he’s the kiug and I’m the clown—
What of that!
Happy I and wretched he.
Perhaps the king would change with me.
—Charles hfackay.
PITH ANDPOINT.
A burglar generally makes his homo
run after he reaches tho plate. —Lowell
Citizen.
It was a farmer caught by a prairie firo
who ran through his property rapidly;—
Siftings.
A poor paymaster Is like a boiling cof
fco pot, because ho will never settle.—
DansviUe Breeze.
A Now York paper says there is con
siderable bustle iu the dry goods market,
but then there always is when the ladies
go shopping. —Pittsburgh Chronicle.
Wife—“ Dear, I wish you would invito
young Professor Y. some day. I hear ho
l* so dreadfully absent-minded; perhaps
he will take out Cecelia.” —German Joke.
A society journal states that girls can
have their lips cleared of incipient mous
taches by electricity. A surer method
than this is an irate parent’s number nine
boot.— Siftings.
Old lady (to wicked little boys who
are playing marbles on Sunday)—“Littlo
boys, what are you playing marbles Sun
day for?” Littlo boys—“ We’re playing
for 'keeps. ’ ” — Lfe.
• Holla Jopes, a young lady of Del.,
' Of thafashluus wqe not very wel.,
Ho a tinndkorclifet red
Hlie wrapped round her head,
And this rig to the ball did Miss Bel.
—Life
An agricultural exchange asks “howto
mako hogs pay.” This is a hard question
to answer. The host way to avoid tho
difficulty is not to sell a hog anything un
less ho pays for it in advance.— TraccWs
Record.
Emperor William is reported to have
said that "it is the one button left un
buttoned which is the ruin of an army."
Too true, und it is the one button left
unsewed that is the ruin of a honeymoon.
—Omaha World.
How doth the tuneful Thornes cat
Improve each moonlight night.
And climbeth on the back-yard fence
To spit, and yowl, aud fight.
And how the'splder-legged dude
Improves the moonlight, too;
He climbeth on the front-yard fence
To sweetlv bill and co.
— Peck's Sun.
Humoring A Patient.
Dr. Crawford of Baltimore is related
to have advised a patient, who fancied
he was dying of liver disease, to travel,
says the Philadelphia News. On return
ing he appeared to be quite well, “but
upon receiving information of the death
of a twin brother, who had actually died
of a scirrhous liver, lie immediately
staggered, ahd, falling down, cried out
that he was dead, and had, as he always
expected, died of a liver complaint. Dr.
Crawford being sent for, immediately at
tended; and, on being informed of tho
notion which had seized the hypochon
driac, exclaimed: "Oh, yes, the gentle
man is certainly dead, and it is more
than probable his liver was the death of
him. However,- to ascertain the fact, I
will hasten to cut him open before putre
faction takes place.” He called for a
carving knife, and whetting it, as a
butcher would when about to cut open
a dead calf, he stepped up to the patient
and began to open his waistcoat. Tho
hypochondriac became so terribly fright
ened that he leaped up with the agility
of a rabbit, and crying out: “Murder!
murder! murder!” ran off with a speed
that would have defied a score of doctors
to catch him. After running a consider
able distance, until he was almost ex
hausted, he halted, and not finding the
doctor at his heels, soon became com
posed. From that period this gentleman
was never known to complain of his
liver, nor had he for more than twenty
years afterward any symptoms of this
disease.
Superstitions of Speculators.
The whims of speculators are illus
trated by a story told by the Atlanta
Constitution, of some Georgians who
were trading in cotton in the New
York market. “The market was fluctu
ating without apparent reason, and they
were speculating briskly, but blindly.
They finally selected, so tho story goes,
engine No. 42 on the Third avenue ele
vated. U|M)n reaching the office in the
morning they would watch for that
engine. If, when first seen, it was
gang down-town, they would sell, and
if going uptowu when first seen they
would buy. By following this course
they made nearly $300,000, when one
fine ntoruing the engine betrayed them,
aud they lost nearly double that amount.
In one of the French schools there Is a
natural magnet capable of lifting tour
times its weight.
Chinn hns the fastest torpedo boat lu
the world.
NO. 17.