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VOLUME V.
How They Criticised.
I* , onC e wa out a-walking on my farm, I
| V beaM talking ’ . B
slyly tij. toaing, I hid behind a tree;
■ animal convention claimed my curious
| .-attention,
j I feared it 1 were noticed it would break
I* it ap, y<> u Bee -
I wfre pig, and lowi, and donkey, and
I dolts so tall and lanky,
I 1 o goose ot vast importance that was sit
| 31 ting in the chair;
I they all had met together to discuss their
If malts, and whether
I n, re was any one amon K them they could
I easily repair.
Ia duck, and said, “ You waddle, my
I triends, you widdle-waddle
I Thene'er you try to walk about. I say it for
I t A * -
eonrgwfi.
I Andapmposofthat, dears,” squealed a pig,
•< you’re much too lat, dears,
I ,v i your greediness in eating is a fact well
I ■ understood.
.(j l a eolt, so cross and grumpy, “ Your
knees are big and lumpy.”
Quack, quack!" pronounced the chairman;
.. pur voices are too rough.”
rid a turkey, “ Gobble, gobble! ere you get
into a squabble,
sell-importance in itself is fault
enough.”
Then rose a lamb so fleecy. “I’m sure ’tis
not as easy,”
He humbly said, “ to cure tho faults of others
u our own.
It we our evils seeking ” But, braying,
quacking, squeaking,
His angry friends quick fled away, and left the
Inrnb alone.
I nodded very sadly, and woke up, oh, so
gladly!
And pondered the dream-lesson as I aat there
on the grass,
Confessing it is daring to assail with blame
uuipariug
The faults that, I am fearing, would be quick
est in appearing,
II we only took a peep into a moral looking
glass.
-Clara L. flurnhum, in Youth 1 1 Companion.
Grandmother Gresham’s Will.
If I said that Grandmamma Gresham
was a vain old wornsn, I suppose it
would not be very reverential. But
still, she certainly did take an immense
interest in her personal appearance—
and that with some reason. A tall and
commanding figure and portly presence,
her Mark eyes glittering in her pair
face with nearly the glow of their youth,
and not a silver thread yet pointing any
contrast with the blackness of her hair
there was something startling about bet
as if she were the apparition of a dead
youth. She was never visible till a late
hour in the day, and any one who had
the temerity to break the rule and enter
her apartments would be very apt to
find her sitting before the old swinging
mirror, “ in which her grandmother had
dressed to be married,”as she used to say,
and occupied, with the help of old Rose,
in twisting in a tress of false hair here,
a curl there, in darkening an eyebrow',
or makinga cheek more blooming with
her little hare’s foot—a curious w r eird
face reflected on her from that glass
meanwhile before which she so con
stantly practiced these rites, a hand
some face when all the work was done.
“ was not easy for us in the flush and
?iory of our youth, to realize that she
w>uld not bear to acknowledge even to
aerself the departure of her own, and
WHS but keeping up the sad fiction as
might. There was a full-length
portrait in its old frame in the great
u rk ball, the likeness of a graceful,
stately girl in her peach-blossom silk,
snri hood and scarf of black lace, with
tae £ reat loose ringlets of shadow over
er r °nnd shoulder, and blowing back
rom her dazzling brow, with the glow
0! ex P p etation in the dark and shining
7 es and in the joyous smile. Some
times Grandmamma Gresham paused
88 “be passed, and rested upon her cane,
atK loo^ at this lovely picture that
nghtened ail the gloomy place; and
w ' none of us ever dreamed that she
* ,s thinking what a travesty and cari
‘Hture of it she was now, with her
Patches and powders and paints, and in
I,e vei yets and India cashmeres that
night when she took them off
wore baid away, lest she might not rise
them again, in the big chest, lor
Amelia Gresham.
ut Don e of us had any of Grand
mamma Gresham’s beauty. The fact
Was> ’ s * le was not our grandmother. We
*ere the descendants of her first hus
by his previous marriage, and she
, I,u married twice since, and if iife weie
mm enough, might have had as many
abends as Gudrun the Beautiful, for
a we knew. She had married our
grandfather when she was very young,
:Ul ' ,° n bis early death had married soon
-gain, and j et jjjg children drift
p' n i' knfiw whither, he having left them
P , . on b T a souvenir and a recommen-
“•■•j a suu\cniranu a recommen*
. Ul ° n to the young stepmother, to whom
! n infatuation and passion he had
J' lueathed everything else. She had
s y. <l on in her career of sunshine and
losing her husbands and chil
rpn, but, with her handsome bank ac
<>UTJt. never knowing trouble that
might have touched her more nearly;
And now, in her old age, she had been
meed by public opinion to take into his
i"Uee the children of her first, husband,
‘ eft orphans and nearly penniless. She
heated us with a gracious hauteur.
Manners like ice cream,” Annie used
l 0 Sa y; “such cold sweetness.” But
Although so distantly kind to us, all her
love was f or Amelia Gresham, her last
husband’s daughter, a pretty minx,
'' ho, in return, cared nothing at all for
!e r, and would not live with her in the
hgy rat-trap, as she called the dear
THE FOREST NEWS.
old mansron house, but made her home
wi h relatives in a gay city, where
srrandmamma punctually paid her board
and only returned for a fresh outfit of
lhe 'f™ 1 ' 8 and fineries with which
grandmamma loaded her.
It was understood, long before we
came to the house to live, that grand
mamma had made her will and given
all she had to Amelia Gresham, and we
never thought of making any effort to
have that disposition of things altered;
for although it seemed a great outrage,
if one reflected on it, the property hav
ing originally been our grandfather’s,
nevertheless it was her own now, and
she had a right to do as she chose with
her own. Moreover, I can’t say, after
all we had heard about hen, but that we
were a little pleased to se that she had
a heart, and could really love somebody.
e came to the house only while we
were preparing ourselves to make our
own way in life; for we each had some
little aptitude, I with music, and Georgie
with painting, and Anne—well, Anne
was our beauty, and was to be maaried
to Francis Evans at some time or other:
that was her aptitude apparently.
But while we Were in her house we
determined to do our whole duty to
gi and mamma, forgetting the . years of
neglect and oblivion, and returning to
her what we might for the remembrance
of us at last. We never intruded on her
in the solemn hours when she sat before
her glass if we could avoid it, except
once, that I remember; we always
spoke kindly of Amelia Gresham, and
treated her like a princess on her rare
and brief visits.
The only time that we varied our man
ners toward Amelia was when she once
tossed her head and gave grandmamma
some shockingly rude speech on one of
these occasions, and started to run from
the room with her fingers at her ears,
when Anne, whose position as the mar
ried one—or at least, you know, we felt
as if she were as good as the married
one—gave her more authority than the
rest of us. laid her hand timidly upon
Amelia’s arm and said, in a half-whis
per: “It isn’t possible you are so cruel
as to wound the old heart that loves you
so!” And Amelia, who had perhaps
never been reproved in all her life be
fore, turned on Anne with a gaze ol as
tonishment, and then broke out laugh
ing. “Oh, you little nonnette!” she
laughed. “If you are going to be so
careful of people’s feelings, you had bet
ter begin by considering mine, bored to
death with the thousand-and-first hear
ing of this sort of stuff.”
“ Bored to death,” said Georgie,“ wlrn
t’s like a story!”
Grandmamma was looking at Amelia.
I saw a tear suddenly start in her hard,
glittering eye.
“Ah, don’t mind her,” l whispered,
stealing my hand over and taking hers,
for I sat on a low seat near her; “ she’s
only jesting.”
And grandmamma looked in the lire
then, without making any reply, but
took my hand between her own; she
showed her age in her hands, and always
wore fine-meshed mitts to hide their
shriveled backs, just as she bound her
throat up high with lace. But Amelia
saw the little action, which, 1 am sure,
meant nothing, and burst out in one of
her rages, which grandmamma, for all
her majesty, had trembled under before;
because it is always the one that loves
that is at a disadvantage; the other is
in the saddle.
“Oh, yes!” she cried. “Honeying
round her with your pussying ways!
Let me tell you she likes honesty. And
you won’t get a dollar of Mrs. Gresham’s
money, for all —”
“Let me tell you!” blazed out our
gentle Anne at that, “ that we don’t
want a dollar of Mrs. Gresham’s money.
We ai*e making ourselves ready to earn
our own. And we think more of many
other things than we do of money. And
whoever gets it, anyway, we shall not
forget that it was our grandfather’s
money, not theirs.”
“ That is so,” said Grandmamma
Gresham, as if the thought had never
occurred to her before. But she rose
slowly, and grasped her cane, and went
away to her own rooms, and we did not
see her for three days. Rose waiting on
her till she was ready to reappear again.
“ Isn’t it too bad, Francis,” asked
Anne that night, “ that anybody should
have our own grandfather’s house but
ourselves.” But she checked lieiself as
Amelia came back with a rose in her
hair, and even frowned down Georgie’s
innocent remark about its being such a
dear old place.
And that it was; an elm-shaded,
many-gabled, century-old house, set in
gardens, with a patch of blue lake just
below it, and the slope of a green hill
just behind it—a hill on whose summit
the cannon had been fired every fourth
of July, and on every twenty-second
of February, and on every anniversary
of the battle of New Orleans, since
time began for those days.
It was not a great while after the night
when Amelia came back with the rose
in her hair, that I began to notice a
strange trouble in our sweet Anne’s
face. Her gray eyes would dilate and
grow fixed in reverie, and at one time
such a deep color would burs in on her
face, and at another she would be
deathly white; that at last when I saw
Francis walking in the garden with
Amelia, and her glance pursuing them,
I knew what it meant. I might have
known before if I had had the sense to
understand the angry expostulation of
Grandmamma Gresham with Amelia
that once I overheard; but it never oc
curred to me that any one could be so
shameful as Amelia was. But I knew
how to sympathize with Anne better
than once I might have dune, to be ten
der with her, an and to let her alone: for T
had begun to think that, after ail, giv-
JEFFERSON, GA., FRIDAY, MARCH 26, 1880.
ing music lessons would not be the work
of my life, since Dr. Dinsmore had be
gun to visit us.
“It is a pity,” said Grandmamma
Gresham to him one day, “that such
nice girls should be destitute. But
then there is one thing—such nice girls
do not need money. I had none.”
But it was the very next morning
that Dr. Dinsmore asked ire to be his
wife. And I was so glad and so proud,
and so surprised and so sorry, too, for
Anne, that I had to go to someone, and
I did burst in on Grandmamma Gresham
at her toilet, and bid my face on her
poor old breast, and cried there. She
laughed at me, although she lifted my
face and smoothed my hair; that is, she
laughed in her own way—she was very
careful about laughing on account of her
teeth. “Well, my dear,” said she, “you
are going to have a good husband, that
is enough for anybody. I shall give you
your wedding but that is all I
shall give you.”
Amelia seemed to find it a great deal
pleasanter with Grandmamma Gresham
than she ever had before, and now it
was her flying visits that were made the
other way, and she came back and
staid longer at the mansion house every
time.
It was when Amelia was away on one
of her shoit stays that grandmamma
sent for some gentlemen to come and
see her, and she was closeted in her sit
ting-room with them nearly all day; but
we were none the wiser, and we did not
say anything about it to Amelia when
she came in with Francis, who had met
her at the station. She gave us no time,
in fact, tor as soon as she had thrown off
her cloak and furs she plunged into the
German lesson that Francis was giving
her, while Anne sal by with a trembling
lip.
It was at about this time that one day
we found Grandmamma Gresham sit
ting dead before her glass.
It was a great shock to us. But I
don’t think it was any greater shock than
it was to see Amelia quickly and quietly
go to grandmamma’s drawers and take
out the jewels and laces there, carry
them away to her own room, and come
down to dinner that night with the dia
monds in her ears. We were not quite
prepared for her taking the head of the
table; but she did, and of course Ann
said nothing.
On the day after the funeral, having
assembled us all in grandmamma’s sit
ting-room. she produced the will, and
requested Dr- Dinsmore to read it- It
gave everything to her.
“I am very sure there is a later will
than ths>t, miss,” said Rose, firmly.
Amelia dismissed her on the spot, as
Rose might have known she would; but
Rose repeated firmly what she said, and
then Mr. Dinsmore calmly told Amelia
that she could not afford to let such a
statement pass as that. But of course
we could not have overhauled Amelia’s
trunks if we had wanted to do so, that
is, without more publicity and scan
dal than we eared to have, although, to
tell the truth, on a hint from Rose, we
had already privately looked in every
nook and comer that we could com
mand, and had taken down and opened
every book in the library, but to no pur
pose. There had been something in
Grandmamma Gresham’s manner to
ward Anne, especially of late, that made
Georgie and me think she could not be
meaning to leave her altogether unbe
friended; the more, too, because she
seemed to feel bitter and ashamed con
cerning Amelia’s conduct. I will con
fess that I was more malicious than
avaricious about it, however. I Knew
that Francis Evans was only thinking
of Amelia’s inheritance, that in his heart
it was Anne for whom he cared, and he
was selling his soul’s birthright for a
mess of potiage, and I should have
liked to balk and baffle him.
‘‘A family physician,” said Amelia,
with a great dignity that did not become
her sort of nose, “is allowed some
license, but perhaps so much will not
be taken again when it is known that I
now have a protector —”
“A protectori” said Georgie, with
out thinking.
“Yes.” she answered. “And I will
tell you now, because we are going
away for a week, that I don’t suppose
it will be particularly pleasant for you
to be here on our return, as Francis and
I were married this morning.”
There was a dead silence for a moment
in the gloomy room that dark winter
morning, and then the report of a can
non rolled through the air, followed by
another, and I remembered, as I ran to
the window, hardly knowing what I
Aid, but doing anything in my embar
rassment, that it was the twenty-second
of February.
“ Washington’s birthday,” said Geor
gie, feeling just as I did. “Dear met
I should think the father of his country
might have had powder enough in his
lifetime —” But she stopped, for Dr.
Dinsmore was speaking, and I never
shall forget how proud I felt as I turned
and looked in his honest eyes.
“We cannot congratulate you Ame
lia,” he said, “ on your choice of a hus
band who has been willing to play so
infamous a part—” All at once the room
was illuminated by a mighty flash, and
a report clapped through it and out
again, and seemed to shake the very
rafters of the roof and the stones of the
foundation. The great gun on the hill
side had burst, and at the same moment
Grandmamma Gresham’s swinging glass
in which her own grandmother had
dressed to be married, as she so many
times had told us, answered to the fear
ful vibration, rent in cracks, like the
rays of a great sun, from side to side and
from top to bottom, in countless splint
ers, and the shivered, shattered hits
tumbled out upon the floor, and with
them a large folded sheet of paper.
“ ‘ Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror cracked from aide to side;
“ The curse is come upon me,” cried
The Lady oi Shalott'’ ”
I exclaimed, in a sort of hysterical ex
citement, as I saw that paper and sprang
for it.
Amelia’s quick eyes had seen it too,
though, and she also darted in its direc
tion. Rose was before her. “It is
madam’s last will,” she said. “It is
just her way. She was always hiding
ker things. I knew it. * She tucked it
between the black-board and glass, you
see. I knew it, for I witnessed it,
though she bound me to silence.” And
she gave the paper to Dr. Dinsmore.
It was very brief. But when it was
read, it was found that out of the greatly
diminished estate Amelia had an annu
ity of four hundred dollars a year; and
the mansion-house, with all it con
tained, and with everything else, be
longed to Anne and Georgie.
“Under the circumstances, sir,”said
Dr. Dinsmore, as he folded the paper
again, “ you will scarcely wish to re
main any longer under the roof you have
outraged.”
And obliged to obey that command
ing glance, Francis Evans and his wife,
like two whipped hounds, passed
through the door he held open.
“Heaven bless George Washington
and the man that invented gunpowder!”
I cried. And Rose ran to pack the great
chest and the trunks, by Anne’s direc
tion, and send them after Mr*. Evans,
who had walked off with the two dia
monds in her ears.—harper’s Bazar.
The White House and Mrs. Hayes.
It is an historic fact that the White
House is modeled after the palace of the
Duke of Leinster. This accounts for the
lofty walls, so decorated and beautified
in frescoes that they inten
tion if not in genius, the noble creation
wrought by Raphael and Michael An
gelo. As the eye descends from the ceil
ing it rests upon the inlaid floor; but this
is covered with carpeting so thick that the
tramp of a regiment would be noiseless
as phantom wings. Ebony furniture
with thex-ichestsatin upholstering; can
delabra that reach from floor to mantel,
holding waxen candles all ready to light,
pictures on the walls, huge baskets of
flowers, with decorated pots of gi-eenery
scattered everywhere. In a row, like
schoolgirls in a class, stood the wives
and dauglxtei's of the cabinet officials,
with Mrs. President Hayes at the beau.
That it was strictly, “ official” was
proved by the order observed in theii
positions. Just as the departments are
ranked the women stood. State, then
treasury, war, post-office, interior and
attorney-general.
Mrs. Hayes may safely be called a
“ handsome woman,” and there will be
none found brave enough to dispute the
palm. A brunette of the purest type,
with large, brilliant eyes that convey
the idea of surface but not depth—like a
transparent window that opens into
space —a rather low, Greek foi'ehead.
over which is banded that shining mass
of satin hair. If the glossy coi’onet
could be impi-oved by waves or bangs;
but the dark, rich brunette complexion
forbids this modern fashion, and Mrs.
Hayes is an artist in one or more ways.
Clad in rich, ruby satin and silk com
bination, the corsage square and low,
as Pompadour invented, to call atten
tion to her charms,* no fault can be
found with Mrs. Hayes, for her di*ess is
as costly and showy as any worn by the
celebrated beauties who flourished in
the cabinet dtiring the Grant reign.
Mrs. Hayes has invented a way to shake
hands which ought to be known to the
official world, as it saves this useful
member fi'om crushing annihilation.
Never give your fingers to the crowd,
and instead of allowing your own hand
to be seized, grasp the unruly enemy by
the as far as the unfortunate thumb
will permit you to go; one vigorous
squeeze and the torment is over. Ail
this is done on the same principle of a
collision at sea. It is the vessel that is
hit that sustains all the harm.—Phila
delphia Times.
The Legend of the Winter Palace.
Referring to the attempt made upon
the life of the Russian Emperor by
blowing up the Winter Palace at St.
Petersburg, a New York paper says:
This is the second time that the famous
nalace has been the scene of a projected
murder, in singular confirmation of the
gloomy legend which clings to it.
After the destruction of the building by
fire in 1839, Count Kleinmichel, then
prime minister, sought to gratify the
Czar Nicholas by restoring it in an in
credibly short space of time. The work
proceeded night and day, and not a few
of the laborers were killed or crippled
during its progress, while many more
were permanently injured by the stifling
fumes of the fresh paint. It is said that
the mother of one of the victims impre
cated a solemn curse upon the palace,
saying that “as the Romanoffs had
made it fatal to their people, so their
people should make it fatal to them.”
This malediction, whether authentic or
not, has, indeed, been amply fuifllled.
The illomened building witnessed the
disgrace and expulsion of Kleinmichel
himself only a few years later. It saw
Nicholas die of a broken heart (by his
own hand, as some say), In one of the
small rooms of the wing facing the
Neva. It was the scene of an attempted
assassination of the czar in 1870, and it
has now witnessed another and a dead
lier one.
The popular prejndice against proprietary
remedies has long since been conquered by
the marvelous success of such a remedy as
Dr. Bull’s Cough Syrup. Used everywhere by
everybody. Prioe 35 cento.
TIMELY TOPICS.
In some colleges a course of “ hazing”
is included in the regular programme,
but ’the course at Glasgow, Missouri,
furnishes instruction in serenading, with
practice on tin-pans, oyster cans, horse
fiddles, aggravated by the natural voice.
The professor to whom they recited this
lesson heard them through and then
gave them a short chapter on the use of
the shot-gun with a charge of bird-shot.
The report he made was so unfavorable
that they quicklj dispersed.
A table in the Chicago Ittler-Oceetn
shows the increase in the quantity of
cereals produced in the United States.
The comparison is made between the
crops of 1870 and 1878. The bushels of
corn produced were 1,094,855,000 in
1870, and 1,388,218,750 in 1878. The
bxishels of wheat were 235,884,700 in
1870, and 420,112,406 in 1878. The
bushels of oats were 247,277,400 in 1870,
and 413,578,560 in 1878. The bushels of
potatoes were 114,775,000 in and
124,226,650 in 1878. The tons of hay were
24,525,000 in 1870, and 37,608,296 in 1878.
At the paper mills of Crane Brothers,
Coltsville, Mass., large quantities of
banknote paper are made for the gov
ernment. The strictest inspection as to
quality is observed, a spot or no
larger than a pin-head being sufficient
to condemn a sheet, and the employes
arriving and departing are carefully
watched. Armed guards patrol the
premises and grounds day and night,
and no approach to them is permitted.
Twenty-four women were sent from the
treasury department as countei-s and ex
aminers, and each are able to count
30,000 sheets daily. These precautions
are necessary to prevent duplication of
sheets for dishonest purposes.
W. L. Fox, a wealthy oil producer
ofFoxbury, Pa., owns a sleigh which
has an interesting history. It is a
clumsy, heavy sleigh, and although
more than 100 years old, is in excellent
repair, and is used by Mr. Fox when
ever there is sleighing. It was built
for Robert Morris, the financier of the
revolution, during the early years of
that war. While it was his property it
was used by George Washington and
his wife, Benedict Arnold, General Lee
and many other distinguished people of
that day, while guests of Mr. Moi-ris.
It passed from the Morris family when
misfortune overtook the financier, and
had been in Lhe possession ot an old
Philadelphia family for many years, un
til recently, when Mr. Fox was placed
in possession of it and its history.
General Daniel ‘Ruggles, of Virginia,
at the request of the senate committee
on agriculture, appeared before them in
Washington and briefly explained his
method of precipitating rainfalls by sci
entific means. His method (for which
he has recently been granted a patent)
is to send up to the cloud i*ealnx car
tridges of dynamite or similar explosive
materials in skeleton balloons and to
explode them either hy time fuses or by
magneto-electricity, through light metal
wires connecting the balloon with the
earth. General Ruggles, as the result
of many years of study and investiga
tion of this subject, claims that the dif
ferent mists passing over arid regions,
or localities suffering from unusual
drought, may readily be consolidated
into rainfalls by concussions and vibra
tions thus artificially pi*oduced.
How an Old Dog was Avenged.
“ Talking of dogs,” said Dr. F ,
“I’ll tell you a true story. When I
lived in Dayton I had a neighbor, Dr.
Van Tuyl, who had a mastiff named
’Lige. He had grown old and gray and
toothless. He had been, in his prime,
without a peer in a square dog fight, but
now he was on the retired list. It was
hard for ’Lige to give up his dog days
in inglorious ease. Every now and
then, feeling the rust of inaction, he
would engage in combat with some
wandering dog, to be made'painfully
aware of his enfeebled age. One day
when ’Lige was dozing on the front
porch he looked up and saw in the
street, undet a load of wood, a large
yellow dog—a jaunty fellow, young,
v ; gorous and saucy, with an unmislaka
•ble country air about him. The stranger
was looking around in a supercilious
way, as if there wasn’t anything there
about worth a second glance. ’Lige
made up his mind that this dog needed
to be taught humility. So out he went
and straightway engaged the stranger.
A cloud of dust, a halo of hair, and old
’Lige returned with his ears torn and
bleeding. Smarting with defeat he ran
through the house, out the back door
and jumped a side fence into an adjoin
ing yard. Dr. Brennan lived there. He
had a dog, a large, well-knit fellow,
much such a dog as ’Lige had been at
his best. ’Lige found this dog, and a
council of some sort was held. I don’t
know what was said; all I know is half
a minute after Lige’s defeat, and before
the country dog had well digested his
victory, the Brennan dog accompanied
him over the fence, through the Van
Tuyl residence, across the porch into
the street, and there ’Lige looked on
while his friend tackled the country dog,
giving that verdant visitor a wholesome
defeat. ’Lige being now fully avenged
and vindicated, the two dogs returned
to their homes, leaving the country dog,
much crestfallen, licking his wounds.—
Indianapolis Journal.
Edison says the jokes on his light are
heavy—heavy light jokes, so to speak.
- Norristown Herald.
FARM, GARDEN AND HOUSEHOLD.
Horse Catarrh or Cold.
0 This disease may be considered under
two points of vie w; either as an inflam
mation of the mucuous membrane of the
nasal cavities, accompanied by slight
fever, or as an ephemeral fever of three
or four days’ duration, complicated
with this condition of the nose. The
latter is perhaps the more scientific defi
nition, but for common purposes it is
more convenient to consider it a simple
catarrh or cold. There is invariably
some degree of feverishness, sometimes
very considerable, at others so slight as
to 1 e easily passed over. Usually the
pulse is accelerated to about fifty or
sixty, the appetite is impaired, and
there is often sore throat with some
cough. On examining the Interior of
the nostrils, they are more red than
natural, at first dry and swollen, then
bedewed with a watery discharge
which soon becomes thick, yellow, and
in some cases purulent. The eyes are
generally involved, their conjunctival
coat being injected with blood, and
often some slight weeping takes place,
but there is always an expression of
sleepiness or dullness, partly owing to
the general impairment of the health.
The disease is caused in most cases by a
chill either in or out of the stable, but
sometimes, even in the mildest form it
appears to be epidemic. The treatment
will greatly depend upon the severity of
the disease; usually a bran-mash con
taining from six drachms to one ounce
of powdered niter in it, at night for two
or three consecutive doses, will suffice,
together with the of corn,
and if the bowels are confined, a mild
dose of physic should be given; such as
six drachms of finely powdered Barba
does aloes, two drachms of ginger and
one pint of linseed oil (raw). Should
the disease extend to the bronehieal
tubes, or the lungs, a competent phy
sician must be called in.— Dr. W. IT.
Hale, in Modem Argo.
Household Hints.
The best oil for making boot and har
ness leather soft and pliable is castor
oil.
A fresh egg has a lime-like surface;
stale eggs are glossy and smooth of
shell.
Paint splashes upon window glass can
be easily removed by a strong solution
of soda.
Five cents’ worth of niti*ate of silver
added to black dye after dyeing, and
the goods redipped will prevent crack
ing And fading.
Potatoes arc nicer when put at once in
boiling water. After they have boiled
fifteen minutes put in a tablespoonful of
salt to twelve potatoes. When they
are cooked, pour off the water and
cover the kettle, not with a metallic
cover on which the steam will form
great drops of water, but with a towel
which will absorb it, leaving the pota
toes dry and mealy.
In starching, to secure a fine polish,
add a teaspoonful of kerosene to a pint
of starch. It will give a beautiful gloss
to linens and laces, and muslins iron
smoothly without drawing or wrink
ling. There is a slight, disagreeable
odor while ironing, but this wholly dis
appears when the clothes are di-y, and it
is a sure preventative of sticking.
Cliarcoal as Maiiurr.
Although charcoal is nearly pure car
bon, a large constituent of all vegeta
tion, still it is not claimed that this sub
stance furnishes direct food to plants.
Its action is-thus described by Liebig:
Plants thrive in powdered charcoal,
and may be brought to blossom and
bear fruit il exposed to the influence of
rain and atmosphere. Charcoal is Ihe
most urchangeable substance known.
It may be kept for centuries without
change. It possesses the power of con
densing gases within its pores, and
particularly carbonic acid; and it is by
virtue of this power that the ro©ts of
plants are supplied with charcoal as in
humus, with an atnmsphere of carbonic
acid, which is renewed as quickly as it
is abstracted. Plants do not, however,
attain maturity, under ordinary circum
stances, in charcoal powder unless
moistened with rain or rain-water.
Rain-water contains One of Ihe essen
tials of vegetable life, a compound of
nitrogen, the exclusion of which en
tirely deprives humus and charcoal of
their influence upon vegetation.— New
York Observer.
The Salesman’s Turkey.
“Old Billy Gray” used to do a big
lump of the foreign mercantile business
of Boston. One day anew salesman
was employed by Gray’s firm. He had
heard much of Mr. Gray’s wealth and
was every day expecting to see a sleek
old gentleman dressed in the finest
clothes, with gold watch, chain Jewelry,
etc. This new salesman bought a tur
key one morning and was looking out
for somebody to carry it home for him.
A plainly dressed man asked him how
much he would give him to carry the
turkey for him. “ Ninepence.” The
bargain was struck and the two walked
down toward State street side by side,
the elder carrying the turkey by its legs
in one hand. When the young man’s
home was reached the turkey was duly
delivered and the ninepence paid as
agreed, whereupon the elder of the two
returned thanks to the young man, at
tended with the request that whenever
he wanted to pay ninepence for the car
rying a turkey a few blocks on the way
he himself was going to just call on old
Biliy Gray and he would be glad of a
job by which he could earn ninepence
so easily.
John Parke, a Vermont man. has
twenty-one children. Though not rich
in lands, he has qiany ltttie Parkes.
NUMBER 42.
To a Child at Prajer.
Fold thy little hands in prayer;
Bow down at thy mother’s knee;
Now thy sunny lace is iair
Shining through thy auburn hair;
Thine eyes are passion tree,
And pleasant thoughts, like garland* bind
thee
Uuto thine home, yet grief may find thee—
Then pray, child, pray!
Now, thy young heart, like a bird,
W arbles in the summt r nest;
No evil thought, no unkind word,
No chilling autumn winds have stirred
The beauty of thy rest;
But winter hastens, and decay
Shall waste thy verdant home away—
Then pray, child, pray!
Thy bosom is a house of glee,
With gladness harping at the door:
While ever, with a joyous shout,
Hope, the May queen, dances ont,
Her lips with music running o’er;
But time those strings ol joy wid sever,
And hope will not dance on for ever—
Then pray, child, pray
Now, thy mother’s arms are spread
Beneath thy pillow in the night!
And loving leet creep round thy bed,
And -o’er thy quiet lace is shed
The taper’s darkened light;
But that fond arm will pass away,
By thee no more those feet will stay—
Then pray, child, pray!
ITEMS OF INTEREST.
Howdoesthislookwithoutanyspaces t
Coffee palaces are in favor as a sub
stitute for liquor saloons in Europe.
The man who sells oil-wells is in the
hole-sale business.— Salem Sunbeam-
Wyoming has another petrified man.
It is not necessary to say that he is stone
blind.
The labor of a yoke of oxen is the re*
suit of neats foot toil. —Marathon Inde
pendent.
A wise man never puts the hot end
of a cigar in his mouth more than once.
Hackensack Republican.
General Beauregard thinks that the
floating lock system proposed by Cap
tain Eads is the best plan for getting
ships across the Isthmus of Darien.
A Leadvi He woman who attempted
to drive a pet cat from under a bed witli
a broom had her face frightfully
scratched and one eye put out by the en
ra?ed animal.
“ We stand at life’s west windows,”
and think of the days that are gone;
“ while the grocer’s boy licks the mo
lasses, and a pair of goats butt on the
lawn.— New York News.
The first balloon ascension in the
United States was made in Philadelphia
on January !>, 1793, by Mr. Blanchard.
The ascent was witnessed by a large
crowd of spectators, among whom was
General Washington.
The domestic trade of Boston is $!.-
200,000,000 per annum. As for foreign
commerce, it still overshadows that of
all other American seaports with a
single exception. Boston is the second
city in the United States in the value of
ts imports, and the third in the value of
iits domestic exports.
The North Georgia Citizen says that
“lath is on the rise.” On the rise, is
it? Well, it’s either on the rise or fall
most of the time. The only peculiarity
is the rapidity of its movements. The
precision with which it rises and falls
is marvelous. Ask the small boy if
his experience doesen’t verify this state
ment. Waterloo Observer.
“ What do you read?” said Mr. James
T. Field, upon a visit to the Boston
boy-fiend, Jesse Pomeroy, convicted,
among other atrocities, of the murder
of three children. “ Mostly one kind.”
was the reply; “mostly dime novels.”
“ And what is the best book you have
read?” “Well,” he replied, “I like
‘Buffalo Bills’be,t. It’s full of mur
ders and pictures about murders.”
“ And how do you feel after reading
it?” “Oh, I feel as if I wanted 1o go
and do the same!”
John Nevins was a fireman on the
Evart and Osceola railroad in Michi
gan. A log was chained to the track
one night, and his locomotive was
wrecked, killing him instantly. His
widow sued the company for $5,000
damages. While the suit was pending
a good-looking young fellow made her
acquaintance, professed to fall in love
with her, and made a marriage engage
ment. Having confidence in him, Mrs.
Nevins told him that the log was placed
on the track at her request, she desiring
to get rid of her husband, while they
were to have all the money that could
be gained by a lawsuit. The wooer in
duced her to repeat the story in the
hearing of witnesses, and then had her
arrested. He was a detective in the
company’s employ.
A Cat Story.
The New York News got the follow
ing from a small boy: The cat which
we had afore we got Mose was yeller,
and didn’t have no ears, and not eny
tail, too, cos they were cut off to make
it go way from where it lived, for it
was so ugly, so it cum to our house.
One day my mother she sed wudent my
! father drown it, cos she knew where
! she cude git a nicer lukin one. So my
| father he put it in a bag, and a brick in
the bag too, and threw it in the pond
and went to his office, my father did.
But the cat busied the bag string, and
wen my father cum home it was lying
I under the sofa, but come out to look at
i him. So they looked at one another fer
a long wile, and bime by my father sed
to iny mother, “Wei, you are a mity
; poor hand to go a slioppin ior cats
j Thisn is a site ugljejr than tUV Otliert”