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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”