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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.