Newspaper Page Text
VOLUME XI. NUMBER 17.
THE PLUMBER.
A plum Vp sat within his homo
Of w alth an 1 luxury.
He h-ar I the stonn go howlinsr by.
It flllol him full of ^leo.
Kain b at upon the window panes.
Fast fr.-e/ing as it fell,
An icy fall spread o'er tho land,
j On c ty, hill and dell.
Ris lit;lo child oarae in tho roofH?»
Jn cosily raiment clad.
She stole unto her parent’s side.
An I thus addressed her dad:
“Say, para dear, why do you smile.
On su h a fearful ni^bt?
The storm it shakes the windows so,
I’m paralyzed with fright!
'•Think of the poor within their homes,
No c alto keep then warm!
How can you smile, my papa dear.
While others feel alarm:-’’
The plumber stroked her yoldtn curls.
And took her on his lap;
Then to his little child he said:
“Now listen to your pap.
“The ice and snow, the frost and hail,
With Brim- gladness unto me:
joy i hear the wintry blast
Which howls so dismally.
••This princely home wherein we dwell,
Tlios ■ bronzes r eh and rare.
Those pictures brought from foreign lands,
Our carpets, silverware,
“My bank-stocks and my real nstato,
Your mother's d amends, too,
All came ir.im winter’s icy breath,
So dreaded, love, by you.
“ I’ll toil you how these blessings come—
To others, thorns and stripes—
The rt-ory's told in these four words,
From busted water vines."
RECOLLECTIONS OF A SHADE-HAT.
“See, Nellie, here is just what you
want; it will slia le your eyes nicely,
and bo becoming, tco ’
A pleasant voice spoke close beside
the counter, where 1 lay jiiled up with
a niultit deof the “latest out.”
The next instant I was picked up by
a firm hand, which belonged to an at¬
tractive-looking young woman, who
gave my brim held a dip one way several and abend atti¬
the other, me up in
tudes, walked with me to tlie mirror,
set me back on her head, then pulled tried me
down over her ryes, and a
medium course, moved away, took a
view from over her shoulder, took me
off again, and at last replied reflect¬
ively: I think I could make it do.”
“Yes,
So she bought me, and at her order I
was trimmed with some scarlet pop¬
pies. and lovely creamy musl n, and
sent home.
I was very observant and attenth e.
and soon learred that Nellie had refused
to go with some of her friends to a
fashionable watering-place where, as
she said, “vou dress, and go to dinner;
dress, and walk out; dress, and sit on
the pia za; dress, and go to the hop.”
No, she preferred have to to g bother > to tlie her. truly and
country, out-of-doors no one from morning till
night. stay
“You’ll get t'reil o that. Miss Ne'l,”
said a young lady, who came to see her
the day we le t “ You'll get tired of
that, and vou’11 wish you had gone with
us.”
“AVell, I have your address, and l
can find my way to thestation,” laughed
Nellie. “ Would you have me in case I
repented, and wanted to come?”
“ Yes, indee t, and if you promise it will to
come as soon as you want to, not
be verv long be ore we see unpack you.” before
“ I’ll give you time to
yon send tlie carriage for me.”
Then she put me on, bade lier friends
good-by, and we were off.
I think the joung lady must have got
tired waiting for her, because we uid
not grow weary of it at all. Nellie’s
little brother was with us, but he soon
found more boys, who look up his en¬
tire attention, and he seldom went with
us in our walks among the hills and
valley- had 1 . lovely time. Nellie told
We a
Mrs. Grant, in whoso hall I hung when
at leisure, when she wished there
was more there to interest her,
she would like to have the days
forty-eight hours long, so that ihe she
might have more room to put en¬
joyment she .ound in e or.thing about
I can not tell how long we had been
there, when, coming in from a walk ne
afternoon, we found a broad brimmed,
black-banded panama hat hanging on
my at\hc own intrusion particular peg. I was so angry
that I fell down three
times while Nellie was try in; O hang
P “ "
auntie, and whom Nellie addressed as
Dr. Wentworth.
I tliouoht him a very fine voun r man,
hut Nelfe did not appear; articulmrly
impressed and se' eral times I thou lit
he would like to have jo ned us when
went out in the mornin , but she
gave him no encouragement :o do so.
One dav, however, we • ot into d ffi
eultv. We were sauntering along
through some chai min woodland; Nel
lie swan me fro n one hand, while ihe
other 1 eld her sachel containing her
novek sket h-t ook and worsted work,
We were en oyin ourselves very mu h,
when wh-r-r! ‘buzd and the whole air
seemed full of win^s! Somethin: t « w
against Nellie with sudden force, and
the next thin o' 1 knew I was Lvirg on
the ground, and she was in full retreat
in the opposite direction.
I do not know how she felt, but I was
scared. Would she never come back?
Was 1 to lie there always till sun. wind
and rain had done their worst?
t had almost despaired big of dog ever rushed see ng
anv one a^am. when a
up and seized me. and with a few
bounds laki me—yes, would you > el eve
it5_rtokt at Nellie’s feet." I was so
ela’ "And th»re was Dr. Wentworth
me up* inst in time to hear him
1 rime up frightened
tell h w he was the same way
once when he was a small bov, be tore
he knew the ways of partridges.
“Thej are shy enough, usually,” he
said. “ but but when wlien there toere is is a > brood uruuu uuu- of lit¬
tle _______ ones like those you happened ready on fly
just now, they are only too to
in your face.” him
A ter that we used to encounter
often, and he and Nellie came to be
verv good friends, till one day 1 was
& -.1 jssaAfwc rwiip* mi
- •
fcirtUV
xlAMILTON I ■ 4 JO URN A! .J&9 *
I was so agitated that every poppy
trembled.
“I can not read the stories myself,”
thou lit I, “but is it possible that 1 am
to witness a genuine love atl'air?”
Such ■seemed to be the indiea'ions;
but as time pass d on I found 1 did not
have all the opportunities for observa¬
tion that I might have wished, for Dr.
Wentworth very often declared that I
was in the way, and would quietly re¬
move, and set me quite aside, where I
could not see what was going on, nor
yet quite get the full import of iheir
e nversation. Hut once I heard a soft
rustle I used to hear m ihe wheat field,
long before I was a hat.
We were all very happy to ether for
some time. I even grew to tolerate the
broad br mined, black banded Panama,
we were thrown aside together so often.
But, after a time, there came a serious
change. I never knew what it was
about, or how it happened, and proba¬
bly I nevershal 1 , ■ o long as there is one
straw of my ana'only left upon a .oilier.
My wearer and the doctor stopped
poin ' out to etho", met very seldom,
and when they did see each • ther tho
c Idness of the atm 'sphere about them
made mo feel out of season.
I staid in the hall more than usual.
Mr. Wentworth came in the door one
morning, just as Miss Nellie came down
stairs willi shawl over her arm, and
took me from my peg. Th *y reeled
each other ve y politely, and he. sup¬
posing she was t oinr out, hold
the door open a moment, but she turned
and went up stairs again, taking me
with her. 1 suppose she was disap
po ntod because she did not go out for
the ust threw herself down, and cried
as if her poor heart would break.
We were going home in a few days,
and she did not leave her room very oft¬
en wh le we staid. Once, a note was
1 ro gilt up, but when she saw tho writ¬
ing on tne outside she sent it away
w.thoAit looking at it.
The last day we were there I was in
the hall once more, and when no one
else .was near Dr. Wo tworth came in,
and put, a note between my l ning tid
the straw, and be said softly all to ii in
self:
“She certainly will see this. If slio
would onlj’ et me explain!” through
Nellie’s brother came Hying
the hall a few minutes after, knocked me
down, and, of course, the note fell out.
“ What a queer place for Nell to keep
her letters,” he said ‘well, I’ll fix it so
it won’t drop out nga'n.” sight,
securely, And he indeed, pushed that it in out nobody or like¬ so
was
ly to see it but tlie one who put it there.
Nellie did not wear me back to the
city, but put me ba: k in her trunk. 1
was taken no notice of for a long time,
when I was found one day by a very
k nd young lady who surveyed mo
critically, and said:
“That has oeen a pretty hat.”
“That old thing: yes, I wore it last
summer. I think I will give it to our
washwoman." replied Nellie.
1 felt injured. Of course. I did not
expect lo stay with her always—hats
never feel the same u/tcr one season
any way—but I just did want to know
how that story came out, and how could
I know if I was given to the wash¬
woman? I could not see what was tho
matter with me; 1 was a trifle faded to
1 e sure, but Nellie herself was not
nearly so bright and pretty as she used
to be.
I was forthwith presented to Mrs.
Mu Idooney who, when asked if 1 would
bo of any use to . her, answered
promptly: “Bles4me.it will help to cheer
She’s up
tlie dear lier child amazin’ly. this months been she
sick in bed two so
can’t move nor stir, and the do tortend
iu, her all the while, though he takes
nothin’ for his trouble. 1 lit just- lets
me do him a - little washin’ now and
then.”
She took me home, and, though I
vas not accustomed to -ueh su: round¬
ings as I found myself among, 1 was ap¬
preciated joyed once half more. much Nellie did neve:'en¬ the pale
in ■ so as
little girl, who clapped her tiny, thin
hands when she saw me.
‘‘ Ale tber f really flowers like these in
the countrj, mo her: she asx i,
ton hing mdeed. the poppi dearie . ight answered v. ti
“ Yfis ' • e
» d flbient voice from
^sVain: S^rs^lvhm, where toe
well theTn. go
o, U„,v
5." M ,.y i-ertcMlv -e. -d
gazed wistful.y at the bit o blue sky.
visible from h r window, and I was
a'raid she would never see the fresh
country, slA looked so like the lilies
just before the petals fall oil. and leave
the withered stem
After a time there came a step upon
tlie stairs, and the white little face bright- •
ened up wonderfully, then the door
opened, and a cheery voice asked;
“And how is my little patient to-day.
almost ready to send me ofi?”
“lg ess I’m better, but / dm t want
you to go away; and only see what
mother brought me from where she
works. Isn’t it lovely? Did you ever
see anv flowers quite so nice as these.'
With these words she held me up.
and when I saw that doctor I was more
surprised than 1 ever was be ore u all
my experience. W hy, it was 1 -r. M < nt
worth, Nellie’s friend, who was no her
friend any more. He was. like m\-elf.
look ng much older than when I rst
saw him, and theic were t red. tr nib’ed
looking lines about ... U.s mouth ,, and , e
He seemed astonished, too. a: seemg
me. and wnen he took me no. his hand
1 trem led like the leaves. He !oo ,c, at
me thoughtfully, and parsed ins nand
around the inside of my crown; some
i again. .... he did speak,
j For a long time not on
lv sat quietly holdin ' i. e Irmh in h.s
^ ^
“ Little one. do you know where your
mother trot this 3 ”
/*.. N - 0 , bnt she does,” answered the
c hfld, “and if yon want to know I’ll ask
j her when she comes home a aim and
..f ,
j ■ should ^ to know very much,”
1 he replie d.
““** prel "
i “f. S S irf.’ »»d the a«« w,; 5
"oka yuuttOwt
HAMILTON, GEORGIA, APRIL 27, 1883.
of anything in the world you would
rather have than this hat?”
“Why, Think doctor!” hard
“ before you answer, and
don’t be afraid of saying anything too
great.” What could be
“ nicer than these, ex¬
cept real ilowers that grow in the
ground? You know there isn’t anything
nicer than (lowers except the hand-or¬
gan man; he only comes once in a while
though.”
“Did you ever see the bouquets in
the florist's window, when you ware
well and eouhl go out in the street?”
“Oh, yes. Don’t you think tlie man
in the flower shop ought to be very
happy?” And
“ did you ever hear of littlo box¬
es that had music inside of them, and
you had only to wind them up as your
mother does her clock, and they play
the most beauti ul music?”
“Oh, they don’t have those here, do
they? Did the you really ever see one?"
“If florist’s boy brought you a
splendid bouquet every day, and the
Miss expressman Bleacher, brought around a music box, and
the coiner, sent
in tho prett est little hat in her window
for you, do you think you could give
me this bat. and let me take it away
with me?”
“Why, godmother? Ur. Wentworth, arc my'three you a
fairy Are these
wishes? And are you going to vanish?”
“ Not till you say this fiat is mine,
then I will vanish to the florist's, to tho
music store, and to Miss Bleacher’s.”
The child did not speak, but only hold
me out to him, and when he took mo
away 1 was sorry to leave her. she looked
so happy.
The doctor and I got into the buggy
and drove o !'. One does not get the
nicest kind of a ride under the seat of
office a buggy. I When confused we got and to the doctor's
felt dizzy. He
laid me down on the table, and went out.
When ho came in again a hoy was
there, dusting and setting things iu
order.
“Shall I sling this old hat away?”
said tlie boy, seizing mo and going to¬
ward the window.
“ Here, you young villain, bring that
back.”
And Dr. Wentworth scowled at tho
boy, and took me away. He carried
me to another room, and put me away
in a trunk with some bo ks and queer
had looking things, quite Nellie’s unlike anything I
ever seen in trunks.
I had I spent tlie time thinking about about what
seen, and in speculating
the future: I was anxious to seethe end
of tho story. I wa ted a long, and long
time for further developements, at
last grew tired of waiting. Still time
went on, and nobody came to take mo
out. I grew stiff and yellow. I felt in
every straw and thread that 1 was unde¬
niably an old hat. passed dormant
1 must have into a
state in which I remained 1 know not
how long.
I’ut suddenly I found myself in broad
daylight again, and when I had col¬
lected myself sufficiently to know what
was about mo, I was astonished to find
myself being hold off at arm’s length
by my own Nellie, in a pretty pink dusting do¬
mestic apron, a prettier pink
cap, and the prettiest pink in her checks
I ever saw.
“John Wentworth, what is this?” she
asked.
“A shade hat, I think you used to call
it, my dear.”
“1 should think so. It is the very
hat I wore two years ago in the coun¬
try,” “As she 1 said. distinctly remember, Mrs.
Wentworth!”
“Where did you get it, and what is
it doing here?” Nellie asked.
“I got it from Mrs. Muldooney’s lit¬
tle girl, and it is there I ecause it is ono
of my treasures.”
Then he told her a 1 about his finding girl,
me, that dav, with the little sick
and how when lie saw tho note there
ho knew she had never -ecn it, and
how he had got her address and heard
about her from Mrs. Muldoonev.
“So you see, if it had not been for
this hat 1 might never have found you
aga n, and this day instead of having
the best wife in the world 1 should have
been a confirmed old bachelor.”
i slippe I down behind the table, and
nobody pa d any attention to me. They than
must have been nearer each other
l was to either of them, because l
eouhl hardly catch a word they said.
But J heard again the same sweetso mi)
that, puzzled me on c before, while we
were spending the summer in the coun¬
try.— Susie B. Steadman, in Lallou's
Magazine. ______
A a Hnmantie Romantic Incident inciaenx.
One of the most stnkmg incidents that
over occurrea in my experience here was
at one tune ilia 11 had prepared box .. )
, d() ij. ir u i, ox and advertised it widely,
On-- ,4'iv T had an order from California
from a Mi s Susie— don4
Tffiebox was up addressed to
her her and ana lav lav auout about bere nor , when • a * voun* •
Englishman came m and
.
“Have you the order teat came for
' * about her<!
somewhere. to
“Would you mmd sending it.up J mv all
hotel? If it is what I think, s
leave for California to-night. around and
1 found it and sent it
heard no more about it for pel b ins three
atttssaifJssr 1 7
aether 8 quite romance,
The dwernerd was a of
an
""
daughter of the gardener. Lut love
levels all distinctions, and the young
man felt the girl to be the chosen com
i panic® of his life. To break off the at
i tachment, his father had sent him to the
continent, and dispatched the gard’-ner
and where his the pretty daughter had to Amj-nea followed
young man
L i “• >
. »r»>
Jt<nmfuUuh*r,
Two UrnTe (lirls.
Miss Rebecca W. Bates, of Seifunte
Harbor, one of the heroines of 1812, has
just celebrated her 87th miniver
sary at the old homestead. Two
sisters, of Rebecca and Abigail, daughters
played tlie lighthouse-keeper at Scituate,
a part in the Revolutionary
period as noteworthy as Barbara Preit
ehe. The lighthouse at the above
period was made tho scene of a fife-and
drum victory over an English blockade
in Scituate harbor. Two American vos
sels were coming into the harbor laden
with flour. As it; was shallow, the man
of-war was afraid to venture, and manned
two boats to pursue them. They were
fast gaining on them when seen by Re
becea and Abbie Bates, when going out
to pick up chips to boil the tea-kettle
for the evening meal. Tho place was
under the protection of “Home guards,”
who, not apprehending lmckieberry any danger, were i !
on The a forage had in a patch.
girls become familiar with Perceiv- am
munition ing and military music.
the danger, one of the sisters pro
posed to face the enemy with guns, but,
quickly taking in the fearful odds, had
recourse side the to a lighthouse, stratagem. They fled to a
of so as to bo con
cealed from tho enemy, colled and one of them
in stentorian tones the roll. In an
instant after Rebecca struck a martial
air on the fife, and Abbie hammered on
the drum lustily. The music reached
the t!vo British a flair was hoisted and tho
boats wheeled about, and in the act
a seaman fell overboard but was seized
neck and a^o heels Zmed and hauled abit in guards! The
murfc the
who retm-ned in time to raise tunmltu
ous cheers as the enemy were denarting 8 '
tlie ladies playin'' ^sisters “Yankee Doodle ”
These two had^severM never married ’ ul
tlionA they proposals
& ‘if r. 1 ,?rir. kv g
Sr- r f“ r “7d“ b ll "” ta r % i
u hm
pndbtheratmoretiwi ter, Mrs. Jane C 100 m One mb- th |
, is ler , ,
year, and anothe , s. Hawt lome, is
in her 7.1th. io n se ocei jned y
these two celebrities was built by their
grandfather 140 yeas ago, and is m a
wonderful state ot preservation. Bos
ton J raveUtr.
A Romance of British High Life.
Many years ago a young man made liis
ippearanee in Stratford, and passed a
:e\v weeks at the tavern which then
sxisted to afford shelter to stage-coach what
iravelers. AVlieuce he came, mid
was liis business, none could guess.
Directly opposite the tavern stood the
small cottage and forge of a blacksmith
earned Folsom. lie had village, a daughter anil
who was the beauty of the tlie heart
,t was her fortune to captivate told love,
if the young stranger. He his
said he was traveling incog.; but, ineon
idence, gave her his real name, saying She
shat lie was heir to a large fortune. married
returned his love, and they were
i few weeks after. The stranger told his
wife that lio must visit Now Orleans.
He did so, and the gossips of the town
made the young wife unhappy by dis¬
agreeable hints and jeers. In a few
months the husband returned; but before
i week had elapsed he received a large
budget of letters, and told bis wife that
ho must at once return to England, and
must go alone. He took liis glorious departure,
and the gossips had another op¬
portunity to make a confiding it woman
wretched. To all but herself was a
clear case of desertion. The wife be¬
came a mother, and for two years lived
Oil in silence ami hope. By tho end of
that time a letter was received by the
Stratford beauty from her husband, York
directing her to go at once to New
with lier child, taking nothing with her
but the clothes she wore, and embark in
a ship for home iu England. On lier ar¬
rival in Now York she found a vessel \
splendidly furnished with every COll
venience and luxury for her comfort, and
two servants ready to obey every wish
that she might express. Tho ship duly
arrived in England, and tho Stratford
girl became mistress of a mansion, and,
as tlie wife of a baronet, was saluted by
tho aristocracy as Lady Samuel Stirling.
On the death of lier husband, succeeded many
years ago, tlie Stratford hoy
to the title and wealth of liis father; and
in the last edition of “Peerage and
Baronetage,” he is spoken Stratford, of as tlie North issue
of “Miss Folsom, of
America.”— Toronto (Onf.) Globe.
The Dear Old Mot i .
Honor „ the ., ok! [d mottl( P . r • Time has
* cheek, hut
ffiwed deen tormws on her
<,u 0 not beautiful shrunk^, now? The lips ^ are
totoand but these the
lips that have kissed many a hot tear
from tho childish ^cks, and they are
the sweetest cheeks, and the sweetest
lips in the world. The alliance eye is dim, yet
it glows ® with the soft , of holy
j , w hi f .h can never fade. Ah, yes,
* . dear old mother The sands of
tower, Xd“
“E^Tot enter 6 fprison whole* ffi
will keen her out- {or m ean not mount a
B ? her to reach, that
, ” d bleas j evidence
you n
, of of her e .deathless deathless love love.^wnenil hen the 1 ^ world
hall du p^e a ^
. ae
wayBi to die, nn
’.•«! •»•»» ?•* " < ,“ i j h , “ r ’“s
d0rl >’’ a " d ohe0r her STSTSLE
with tender devotion.— J Watch Tower.
--
We will ... give 8100 reward f for » maD
w ho, when ha undertakes to make are
p l y ffi an article in the newspapers, haa
never sa id, or been known to saj y
attention having been called, etc., ~
u it powible that no public adl!1 man if? ever
read . newinsper, or, d r f, *’
BOt dfficoverL. own name th.«S£S
ss,?&rs.«-“”>»*>««• mmm* «• % ““Jl 1 *""" “* 1
\ , Uvrmr#.
WORTH KNOWING.
, * <lw ** , ° House tly, the Wicked Flea
and ti.e Mo«qu‘«o May Ail be Put io
[Prom Harper »Bazar.]
Pyrethnim roseum, or Persian
ba camomile, is the powdered leaf of a.
™‘ eBB flower growing in Caucasian
Asia in great profusion, where for cent
!' n0B d llas been used to rid tb» na
“ves of insects. With a finely-prepared
dust made from these flowers, which
! ;t ! u be purchased of almost any rclm
‘“’’Ktost , ftt ollt heiits
* !, 16 .‘ Ro ,, 0 Wl . ®acd flea a and tho
'
mosquito may be pnt to flight, or to
reBt ' Itt ?*)•>* enj ° y tblB deh,um ' H
riddance 'vith htt.le it is only necessary to h..ap u,r
a c.ii.e one t^aspoonful «.i the
dn^ match Pyrethrum, and watch touch the tlim H with blue a lighted line of
Bm ? ke as lt; rl8es to tbe ceiling and is
' vnlted , throU f h the “ft th «
busy wad ffirone of msect - . life mto a weak
of insect woe. Pretty soon down
they come plump on to the table and
overvoxir paper spin on their tiny backs
T *“» “ft tll0lr Ipcete curl up
thelr ha i r -bko legs and , interest one no
more ', V P "If"* ^ httle T® fllc ?
'^molested, , though there are thousands
of mosquitoes in the room ; the pests
«« «ck wdls unto death feeble and cling sadly to
tbe - f ^
f"" K *' 10 ft cb > ™ lnu b lotBl tllftt
111 rmbly llttle hml,B Just . bel,)W 1 tho
business, ‘ um .° of the Pyrethnim while it lias lingers settled their the
and m
room outsiders though are the unwilling windows to make an
eut^ are raised
and the lattlces , hot, only hal ‘ vlosid.
° bost> ft uze and bars one are # ust bo stuffy Hulll V things (,nven at to
attem P t to k1 *P 'Anow, under sucii - a cover;
then - •“ W0 a throu the b mosquito «1
wttysfindB hiBway « > “« matter
mSS ™”“, c c;;r«s
of the drug must be insured. This can
rea( B]y ) )e tested. It must have a bright
l, u ff color; pleasant, be light, tea-liko readily burned, and
give B )inoh a l hould ' n dozell fragrance fl b ; fln one wl
f g k a 8( co]1
n a bottle, at once. When it fails of
these properties it has been adulterated,
In common use, in large or breezy rooms,
where, from great dilution, it fails insect to
kill, it nevertheless produces on
life, through its volatilized essential oil
or resin, undoubted nausea, vertigo, res
piratory spasms, and paralysis. It acts
upon them through the minute spiracles,
tho breathing tubes, that stud the stir
face of their little bodies, and from tho
delicate network of veins in their tiny
wings. To human beings it is, so far as
I can ascertain, entirely That innoxious, and
not duiagrccttblo. infants and we—a adults—have family of
eight for persons, several weeks ill atmosphere
lived an
of pyrethnim dust and smoke corn
billed, during this present summer, is
sn fiicient proof of my statement. To the
skeptic I recommend an interesting ox
penment; Puff the pyrethnim into a
close, warm room, where flics most love
to swarm, just after dark, shut the door,
and make another visit in thirty minutes,
Tho sight of seeing millions of dead and
squirming vermin on the floor will do
his and heart good—that angel. is, if lie is human
not an
Huving drafted our plan of battle
against these little foes, it becomes pro
per to speak of the earo of tho wounded,
To cure mosquito stings, I know noth
ingbetterthan a 20-por-ceut, solution iu
eitlior oil or water of jmre carbolic acid,
This is to he rubbed well on tlie painful
spot. To bathe one’s tingling hands gives and
smarting limbs grateful witli this solution that hard
a cooling, Carbolic sensation will is do al¬
to describe. soap
most ns well, or an ointment compound¬
ed of carbol, camphor and cosmoline.
Bit of Colorado Romance.
One of tho richest lions of this city at
the present date looks ns if, were he in
Paris at tho proper moment, he would
wear a bonnet rouge and carry a mitrail¬
leuse. Farther up in the mountains the
air of tills lion would set the fashions not
only of a camp but many of its visitors
also. The brigand stylo is exceedingly
fascinating to tho eyes of romantic,
impracticable young woman, anil also to
lads witli half-grown mustaches. I saw
:i young lady at Georgetown whoso eyes
and heart had become entangled with the
man who was too familiar with sharp
knives, and J do not refer to the town
butcher. This lassie secured a fine bron
cho with a scarlet saddle-cloth, and over
hcr handsome dark-green, leather
habit she wore a gold-mounted attached sheathed
belt, to which was hilt, In a the hand
Unite with a guarded she lighter
of her that Derby glistened, cap both wore of a which
knife
might 1m useful ill her hands if she were
attacked by a Colorado grasshopiier. In
city terms she> openly expressed desperado. her nA- fie
miration for the town
could and would protect a woman’s honor
'she‘wL'in hfa way '«?’vexed tog ami
Sw?Jlk££ don’t find himself
He’ll be lucky if he
made into a t'assle bv tfhe Mr. Lynch some
bright midnight.” poor girl cried and a
little, ’ then laid off her belt and knives
with adeep ^ awokfi from her bright
dreams.—Denver Letter to Chicago
™
iw**** *
now about 20,000,000, was a little more
thjm jjq oqo. The following that interesting popula
, table shows the growth of
don: „
p, P ulatum, iru-'m*.
■
.
; ................... «•**
imr ........................ is*,ret
lsw ;..........................ksai'sla ...................;;;;;;; m
«
5......................""KSSJS .......».«*.«« It 8
w»>«*>» *“ h- u
”• “ •««
wm 1b Ud* age,
Killing Made Easy.
Tn the time of Napoleon it was esti
; ra(ltod that it took six hundred bullets to
I be fired in battle before a man was
i killed ; in other words, every dead sol
flj er represented his own weight in lead,
p n t the recent improvement in firearms
bns added to the efficiency of the soldier,
The greater range of tho title, as well ns
the rapidity with which it can bo fired,
has made it thirty-two times more
effective than tho old smooth-bore,
To put it more accurately, a military rifle au- is
thority says that the modern
i anperior to the old smooth-bore iu the
.following particulars: It is eitrhf. Uo-thirds
I «»««• eObmtn in and accuracy penetration, five
; greater in range
times greater in rapidity of aimed fire,
while the weight of the cartridges number per
mau has diminished, yet the
that may bo earned lias been increased,
The added efficiency of the heavy guns
is uo lcaa surprising. The famous
Krupp now makes a gun of nine
inches calibre and eighteen tons ball
weight, which will send a
through twenty inches of solid iron ; and
his fldd gun, within a range of more
than a mile and a half, can be depended
npon to put every project, e mb, a space
of iess than two hundred square feet,
Taking into consideration the breech
loading, rifling bettor powder, improved steel,
projectiles, the lighter carriages of
the science of artillery has been revolu
tionized, and one battery to-day is more skill
effective than twenty of tliose so
fully handled by the Great Napoleon, bi
the>xt of great destruction battles will some lie dreadfu brought
engines Hotchkiss revolving
into play. The gun
can fire bursting shells at the rate of
eighty a minute. It can pour out a con
tinuons and deadly fire of seventy-five
poU nds of metal, or 1,200 hits, every
oIM ° Mh
Those who read the “woman's
column” of a weekly pai»er must be im
pressed by one curious fact: the fair
writers are far too fond of confiding their
domestic troubles sympathy to tlio general public, lius
Ono asks for and because her
band abuses her, another deplores
her husband’s profanity. Others at
tempt to be witty and smart at the ox
ponse of “old maids.” Then tho “old
maids” retaliate; and so it goes until
wiser people are disgusted. What com
fort can bo in bringing through one’s family
woes before tho public tlie luo
dium of tlie newspapers is to us incom
preliensible. Nothing is gained by less so
doing, tlie troubles are none the
grievous, anil little sympathy is given to
people who have not sufficient fortitude
to endure them without murmuring,
These are tlie women who complain that
they do not have their “rights.” But
when they say their literary work is not
treated with as much consideration as
that of men, they say what is not true,
Any one, by glancing at the list of
contributors to our ablest and mostpopu
lar periodicals, quite will one-half, find nearly, and ifamos in
some cases, tho
those of women. There are said to ho
iu the United States sixty lady editors, odi
while many others have positions On
torial staffs, No ono will deny that a
book written by a woman gains rooogni
tion and commendation Ladies as readily longer as find one
written by a man. masculine uo
it necessary to assume noma
des plnmnH, in order to receive attention
from tho world. But there is a vast dif
feronco between honest, meritorious
literary work and querulous complain
ing. and ill advised scribblers must ex
peet the foot to bo recognized .—UhAcnyo
Lodger.
•‘No Young anil Yet No Unhappy "
Eddie the son of a prominent merchant
in a neighboring town to Grenada, is
only two months on liis wu.v to his sixth
year. His father says Eddie lias been a
“ladies’ man” ever since lie was two
years of ago. But it was only a fmv
weeks ago that he succeeded in finding
his Psyche, who so ruthlessly plunged
the love-poisoned dart into liis young
soul that tho simple name Mildred was
metamorphosed into the tender name
“sweetheart,.” The villiageschool dosed,
and she, broke the secret and lier lover's
heart by telling him that slip loved his
brother better than she did him. Y/lion
the father came home.Eddie buttonholed
him ai d sobbed out: i
“Papa, papa, Eldred said she wont
have me. ”
“Oh, son she was only joking.” she
“N-n-o, sir, she wasn’t, ’cause
told me three times.
There being “ no balm in Gilead” for
his lacerated heart, he decided “to tak.i
arms against a sea of troubles” and with
a curtain cord end them. Having the se¬
curely fastened the iooso end of
greeii cord around bis neek, he jumped of
out of the parlor window, a distance
four or five feet from the ground. For¬
tunately the cord broke and left no marks
of suicide, save a blood ri»g around liis
neck .—Memphis AvalaneJie.
Getting a Character.
com
j tory theVenice tender glass, of it afterward quickly cracked, ; for tis never like
j to be mended, though patched along it with may
! t*. To this purpose, take
you this fable. It happened that Fire,
■ Water and Fame went to travel together
fR., 1 ” .hi",™’ 1 ,“L,ic
b ( j„d me.” But Fame
' lose for
. (dd ,; x . lk ,. heed liow you me,
j{ ’ d(J you vvl jl run a great hazard
never to meet me again ; there’s no re
trieving of me.”
T H Gi.vnn, the California
1 farmer who owns 65,000 acres, has thir
45 0<)0 acres ^cadv, iu wheat. He has
I &X) vear sacks tonhiUrn.U each they will holding not hold 140
L Sd\ u harvest. Dr Glenn is a
> 3^2* Xhim.
$1. OOA YEAR.
PITH AND POINT.
—“You can’t get ahead of me,” said
a stupid mean man to a doctor. “I
wouldn’t care to,” retorted the phy¬
sician, “for I don’t like cabbage.”— N.
Y. Commercial Advertiser.
—A philosopher says, “Live your life
in such a way as to show a contempt for
wealth.” That’s “us!” We want our
daily it life so intermingled familiarity with wealth, breed
as were, that will
contempt .—Rochester (Ah Y.) Express.
—A new cashier It does in a Pittsburgh bank
is Mr. Drum. not follow that he
has two » narJ h P “beatr"— Pitts- ~
,-;u ima to
burgh Telegraph. It may be hoped that
he will not prove a snare Drum.— De¬
troit Post.
—Answers to correspondents—Lilly give
M. S., “Would you be so kind as to
me a receipt for a baked plum pud¬
ding?” Certainly, Lilly, pudding, certainly. and
Send on your baked pluin
we’ll send you a receipt send for it by return
mail. Could you a threo-eent
stamp to covor postage?— Texas Sift¬
ings.
—“Willyim, my son,” says an eco¬
nomical mother to her son, “for mercy’s and
sake-don't keep on tramping manner—you’ll up
down tho floor in that
wear out vour new boots. (lie down! sits
down.) There you go—sitting
Now, you’ll wear out your new trousers!
1 ddelaro, I novor see such a boy!”—
Chicago Herald.
—“What d’ye leavo that door wide
open for?" exclaimed the gentleman in
the office to the intruding peddler. “Oi
thought, surr,” was tho quick reply,
“that yc moigbt want to kick mo down
stairs, and Oi wanted to make it eon
vanient for ye, surr.” The gentleman
was so taken aback that he bought two
apples for five cents, passing off a bad
quarter in the transaction .—Boston Rost.
—Young Podgers struck up an State ac¬
quaintance with a nice girl on the
road tho other day, and he promised
himself a whole salvo of kisses when
they should enter tho Iloosao Mountain.
What was his disappointment when the
hrakeman lamps came boforo through reaching and lighted the bore! tho
car
Podgers says the tunnel is a blankety
blank humbug, and the sooner it is filled
up the better! Tho idea! he says, of
squandering millions on sueh a mean
fraud us that !—Boston Herald.
—When you have a male bore, who
hangs bloss’ed to you tighter than lady a nickname, in!
Ijow it is to see a come
Ninety-nine bores out of a hundred—
and only a kick will meet the case of the
hundredth—will get up and go when a
lady enters. Blessings therefore descend
upon her head! Woman is indeed the
host friend of man. But—horrid thought!
—how in Heaven’s name is a fellow to
got rid of tho woman, if she happen to
be—and sometimes she is—an uncon- .
scionably worse bore than tho male boro
she unseated P— N. Y. Graphic.
Number and Orders of the Stars.
If wo raise our oyes to the heavens
on a clear moonless night, wo shall see
myriads of twinkling stars thickly stud¬
ding tlie sky. It scums impossible to It
count them, but aneh is not the case.
is found that tho total number of stare
in tho celestial sphere, visible to the
average naked eye, is about five thous¬
and, tho number varying according to
the perfection and training tho atmosphere. of tlie eye
and Ihe condition of
When tlie sky is cloudless, and the
air free from moisture and unstirred by
the slightest breeze, several hundreds
more may be seen, swelling tho number
to nearly six thousand. As only ono
half of tho stars aro above tho horizon at
u time, it follows that tho number to lie
seen at once varies from twenty-five *
hundred to three thousand.
The stars visible to the naked eye bear
no comparison to those brought to view
in tlie telescope. No less than Herschel’s twenty
million star* wore visible in
twenty foot telescope.' The great tel¬
escopes of modern times show a much
larger number, and though no reliable
estimate has yet been mode, the num¬
ber will difference probably in reach the size fifty and millions. bright¬
The
ness of the stars is no Jess striking than
their number. At a very early age in
the history of astronomy, they were di¬
vided into elassei on this account-. The
twenty brightest stars aro said to be of
the first magnitude. The fifty stars next
in brightness are of the second magni¬
tude, a-d so on, until we reach tho stars
of the sixth magnitude, which lucludo
tho faintest stars visible to the naked
eye. The telescope greatly increases the
number of classes as well as the number
of tho stars, so that the smallest stars
visible in tho largest telescope aro of the
sixteenth magnitude. No limit to the
increase lias yet been found. Every im*
provemeut in tlie far-Beeing power of the
telescope reveals theexistence of myriad
stars never seen before, until it seems as
if the stars that jieople space of the are aa
nearly countless as the sands soa
«iu,re. or the flowers that bloom in the
primeval What forests. inconceivable ! number r of suns,
an
of Jmany orders of size and brightness,
belong to the grand universe of space
in which our sun and bis family of worlds
find place! For these myriad stars that
sparkle in tho canopy of night are all
suns like our snn, masses of matter at a
white heat, but et such an immense dis¬
tance that they look like shining points,
just as our sun would look if he were as
far away.— Youth's Companion.
—The sailors of a Canard steamer at
New York were very much disturbed re¬
cently, when they found that the “Moun¬
tain Evangelist” Barnes was on board
and was to sail in the vessel, “iveil
’ave nothin’ bat bad weather from dock
to dock,” said one of them. “As sure s
a parson’s aboard, whether he’s the Dean
of Westminster or the false prophet, h we all
are pito.hin’ and tumblin’ and ave
sorts of trouble.”— N. Y. Herald.
-Some one truly says tha^ oon
and bwnb, .
stoutly sees tl.otnselves, sty es, gracelul rendered not only
ful in ugly, b^aus.
nugatory, but positively
»«Sr" : s sss *
,to “ “ “• , “" k '