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B y R. S. HOWARD. VOLUME YI. Creeping Up the Stairs. In the softly falling twilight Oft he weary, weary day, With a quiet step I entered Where the children were ftt play ; I was brooding o’er some trouble That had met me unaware, When ft little voice came ringing, “ Mo is creepin’ up a stair.” Oh’ it touched the tender heart-string With ft breath and force divine, Ami such melodies awakened As words can ne’er define, Ah I turned to see our darling, All forgetful of cares, When 1 saw the little creature Slowly creeping up the stairs. Step by step she bravely clambered On her little hands and knees, Keeping up a constant chattering, Like tho magpies in the trees. Tin at last she reached the topmost, When o’er all her world’s affairs She delighted, stood a victor, After creeping up the stairs. Fainting heart, behold an image Of man’s b iet and struggling lifo, Whose best prize mu3t ho capture With an earnest noble strife! Onward, upward reaching ever, Bending to the weight of cares. Hoping, fearing, still expecting, We go creeping up the stairs. On the steps may he no carpet, Bv their aide may b 8 no rail, Hinds ami knees may often pain us, Am! the lioarl ntty almost fall; .S ill above there is a glory Wrick no Hinlulitcss impairs, Wu!i it-> -istand joy lorever, Al er creeping up the stairs. The Deacon Would a-Wooing Go. Tin- suit ha l disappeared behind the lijHsefNew Bethany, and the lingering light on the mountain tops was chang ing from rose to purple, when Deacon Pinch tl his melancholy old mare in front of the village postoffice. It was Saturday night, the only time when New Bethany roused itself irom its Irthargy and showed any signs of life and energy. The rest of the week it drowsed and languished after the fashion of small country towns remote from railway and manufacturing cen ters. “Whoa. Mary Jane! ’ said the deacon with unnecessary emphasis throwing tti reins on the mare’s broad back and neriijdng t>> the grr und. Rut the despondent Mary Jane had already ceased her shambling gait from sheer fore'' of habit. A ten year’s ser rice with the deacon had made her perfectly fuuiliar with the accustomed round of stopping places. Wednesday nijjht it was the prayer meeting; Sun diy,the church service; and Saturday night, invariably the postoffice, and. ns a late variation, an after pause at tin hou-ie of Mrs. Betsy Hill, the town milliner, who for a quarter of acenturj hul 'upplifd the women of New Bethany with head-gear fearfully and wonder fully made. The moment the deacon stepped in side the office he knew, from the un usual buzz of conversation, that some thinj extraordinary had happened, “ Heard the news—eh, deacon ?” asked one of the village loungers. The deacon looked up inquiringly. “ Miss Ivezia’s had an amazin' streak of luck.” “It's been nothin’ but an amazin’ streak of lu >k ever since she was born,” returned the deacon. “If ownin’the best farm in town and hevin’money at interest isn’t luck, I’d like to know what is.” es, but this is something out of oonunon. You used to know her brother, who died vears ago and left bis only child for Miss Kezia to bring I ' n ; MVal, when old man Mead died Miss Kezia took the farm as her 6liaie o: the property, and her brother, being 11 n rovin’ turn of mind, took the few thousands of personal property as his’n and invested ’em in Western lands, turned out wuthless, and he lost •very cent lie put in. Folks always ‘ ■amed him for bein’ so foolish and la 3ty, and they say grief and mortifica- ; :on Jl ke hastened his death. Wa’al, 1 tUrns out now they liev’ put a rail roai* S( ]Uare thro’ the lands, and its 3 u estate ’way up, nobody knows " *:to. Mi ss Kezia’s bin offered nigh ° n '° eight thousand dollars (or the am - and they say she’ll get ever so u it more if she only holds out.” ou don't mean it?’’ ,1 dew; it’s as true as Seriptur.” , She’ll hold out, never fear,”said the a eon; “and I hold it to be our )o unden duty as neighbors to advise ller to that end.” instead of lingering as usual for the 'i-.age gossip lor the New Bethany Postoffice on Saturday night answered Lje P Ur pose of a weekly paper—the dea !/' n seemed in a great hurry to get s w as the night of the choir rehear ?,l‘' and in driving by the church he Mary Mead, Miss Kezia’s niece, So; ng up the steps. He suddenly whipped up his sleepy old mare and ltove home at a breakneck rate of speed. Now’s yer time, Solomon Pinch,” , muttered to himself; “it mebbe a ‘ •ng while afore ye’ll hev such a good Jhance ag’in. She’ll be sure to be alone a couple o’ hours or so —Hi, old ■ no stoppin’ here to-night,” he a, , !'-d, giving the lines a sudden twist ru * hiry Jane showed an inclination to ; t0 P before Mrs. Betsy Hill’s house. u., ve ot flcr fish to fry now, old girl.” ’ hen he rea< hed home he drove the - ue under the horse-shed and tied her the forest news. usual’ tT"’, 0f unhar i* her „ usua . Then he entered the house, and hasttly swallowing the scanty supper whieh the hired woman placed before him, donned his best clothes and drove off again at a rapid pace. Law sakes alive!” exclaimed the woman, amazed. “The deacon’s got suthin on his mind, sure! It’s the first time I ever knew him to disremember to ask a bleßsin\” Ever since the death of his wife Dea con Pinch had looked on Miss Kezia as Her probable successor. For years he had gazed with covetous eyes on the fine Mead farm with its substantial buildings, but he never could screw his courage up to the point of facing the snapping black eyes of its owner. Of late he had been seen several times knocking at the door of Mrs. Betsy Hill s little brown house, and the worthy milliner was overjoyed at the opening of this brilliant prospect before her. But the news of the sudden rise m Western lands caused Mrs. Hill, with her small possessions to sink into insig nificance by the side of this rich woman with.her well-tilled acres, her overflow ing barns and her prospective thousands of dollars. The idea of failure in his matrimonial venture never for an instant entered the deacon’s head. “ The way afore ye is as plain and straight as a pipe-stem, Solomon Pinch,” he murmured, rubbing the palms of his hands together, as he walked toward Miss Kezia’s side door. “Women is mostly alike- 1 eager an’ willin’ to embrace matrimonial oppor tunities. They’ll snap at an offer like a hungry trout at a worm. She has got the money, and I hev’ got the promin ence and influence; that’s a p’int not to be overlooked; and deacons isn’t to be had every day. Put her money and my influence together, and I rayther guess we’ll stand about top o’ the heap in New Bethany.” Miss Kezia was sitting by the table knitting as usual. She had just begun to narrow for the toe of the stocking, when a step sounded on the walk. She threw down the stocking and opened the door, and, holding the lamp hi h above her head, her eyes rested on the amazing spectacle of the deacon in all the Sunday magnificence of white shirt and shiny black broadcloth. “ Well I never! ’ she ejaculated, and feeling that her reception had been hardly hospitable, she lowered the lamp and said k : nlly, “Come in, descon —come in.” “ Thank ye, thank ye; I don’t mind if I dew.’l “ Take a seat, deacon.” “Thank ye; I don’t miod if I clew.” The deacon surveyed the attractive room, which, with it^’cheery fire and comfortable cushioned chairs, seemed a veritable paradise in comparison with his untidy, ill-kept home. He placed his baton the door beside his chair,dis playing his scant gray locks ingeniously plastered over the top of his he id so as to cover :i3 much of the b*M surface as possible. Then there was a long pause “ Any thing going on, deacon P” asked Miss K zia, resuming her knitting. She was greatly puzzled to account for those Sunday clothes. “ Nothin’ within the range of my ob servation. There won’t be much agoin’ on now till ’lection time; tilings’ll be pretty lively then.” “Want to buy any hay this year?” chirped Miss Kezia. “Mine is extra good this season; my hired man says it’s the heaviest yield in town.” “I rayther guess I'll hev enough to carry methro the winter. If I don’t I shall know where to come for hay as is hay. 1 declare your farm does beat all! I feel kind o’ rigged like when I think the best farm in town is managed by a woman.” M iss Kezia smiled graciously, and the deacon drew his chair a little nearer his hostess. “It must be a great load for ye to carry alone. Such a large farm is a tie mem-jous responsibility for a lone woman ” “Oil, I don’t mind it; it keeps me proper busy.” The deacon hitched his chair along a few inches farther. “ Ye'd ougkter hev a brother or cousin, or some relative like, to share the burden with ye.” “My shoulders are plenty strong,” returned Miss Ivezia, good naturedly. “ I’m glad to show folks that there are women who are good for something be sides giddy-gaddying and tattling.” “ Yis, yis,” answered the deacon, “ we can all testify to your rally and worth. You’re really a honor to your sex. You’re—you’re a bright and shinin’ beacon light to the triflin’ and vain-minded women of the world and the speaker waved his hand at the conclusion of this little oratorical flour ish. Then hitch, hitch, hitch went the chair toward Miss Kezia. “ Don’t ye feel sort o’ lonely at spells,” he asked, insinuatingly. Miss Kezia glanced suspiciously at the rapidly-advancing chair. She dropped her knitting and went to the fire and piled up the blazing sticks of wood. Then she came back to the table and set her chair on the farther side of it, thus putting a barrier be tween her and her visitor. “ I’m never lonely, deacon; plenty to do is the best medicine for loneliness.” “ But woman’s a tender, dependent creatur’; woman’s a vine, and needs sutbin’ to cling to when the troublous, desolatin’ waves and winds of affliction and sorrer roll over her.” “Stuff and nonsense!” exclaimed Miss Kezia with a contemptuous sniff. “ I shouldn’t have expected that a man of your sense, deacon, would repeat such silly trash I have no patience with the people who are always talking as if JEFFERSON, GA., FRIDAY, JUNE 18, 1880. a woman couldn’t stand alone, and needed proping up, like a rag doll that hadn’t any backbone. I’ m no vine-no such creeping, helpless thing, I can tell you. I can 3tand alone as well as any body, if the Lord so wills it, altho’ I ad mit, deacon, that it’s pleasanter to have someone keep you company.” “That’s jest it; ye hev’ hit the nail squar’ on the head! It is pleasanter to hev’ company in our sojourn on this mortal earth.” The deacon seized his chair with both hands and by n circuitous line of hitch ing placed it within three feet of Miss Kezia’s table: “You’re a forehanded woman, Miss Kezia; I’m a man of prominence and influence in the com munity; it spemsto me that it would be a good thing if we could walk hand in hand thro’ this vale of tears. Provi dence seems to p’int its finger that way. ” The dr aeon was thinking at that very moment of the money he would save by putting a thrifty manager like Miss Kezia in the place of his inefficient, wasteful hired woman. Miss Kezia was dumbfounded. She dropped her knitting, and the ball of yarn rolled across the floor. “Mercy!” she finally gasped. “I’ll make ye a first-rate husband, and ye’ll make me a good wife. We’ve been members of the same church for thirty years or more, and we’ve been members of the spiritooal family, we’ll now be members of the same human family.” Miss Kezia straightened herself up in her high-back chair and drew in her chin, while her voice rang out shrill and clear: “I rather guess it’ll take two to make that bargain.” A second look at her aged admirer, who was edging up to her with a sheep ish simper, exasperated the woman beyond control. “The old fool!” she said, wrathfully. The color came into the deacon’s thin cheeks, and he started to his feet, looking anxiously toward the door, as if meditating a hasty retreat. But the yarn was wound around his boots and he was forced to remain. Miss Kezia likewise rose, and folding her hands primly in front of her, re marked, grimly: “ When you first began your talking I hadn’t the lease idea what you were driving at. I thought you were hinting about Betsy Hill, and wanted to take me into your confidence. I never dreamed that you meant me. Why, I supposed every one iu town knew that I wouldn’t give up my free dom tor the best man living. Betsy Hill is a pious, likely woman; she'll make a good home for you, end she needs a home herself.” The deacon looked completely withered, and Miss K r zia continued: “ If you'll step around a little livelier, deacon, and piek up the stones on your lots and put them into good fences, and mow down some of tuose pesky weeds, thrre’s no earthly reason why your farm shouldn’t look as well as mine. If I’ve said anything to hurt your feelings, deacon, hope you’ll overlook it Why, 1 you are all twisted up in that yarn; I’ll untangle it.” The delay in unwinding the yarn from the deacon’s feet gave Miss K< zia a chance for further remark: “One word more, deacon; have you heard about those Western lands?” The deacon wished he was anywhere out of the range of those mercih ss black eyes. “ I—think I’ve heern tell suthin' about ’em,” he replied, meekly. “I thought so! I thought so!” ex claimed Miss Kezia, savagely. “Well, deacon, those lands rightfully belong to my niece Mary; I only hold them as her guardian.” The deacon began to look upon hi 3 rejection as a blessing in disguise, for without the Western lands Miss Kezia’s attraction seemed tame compared with those of mild, blue-eyed, buxom Widow Hill. “ I can trust to ye never to men tion this?” he asked, timidly. “ I shall never speak of it. Now, fol low my advice, deacon; make sure of Betsy Hill before another week goes by. You have my good wishes. See to this at once.” “Thank ye, thank ye; I don’t mind if I dew.” The good woman followed her crest fallen visitor to the door. Asa sudden gust of cold night air put out the light, she said: “ The air is snapping to-night; have a frost, eh, deacon ?” And the discomfited deacon felt that he had been nipped by something sharper than a frost. — Livpincoti's Maga zine. An Immense State. Texas, writes Selma Brown to the Troy Times, is a vast empire in itself. It has an area of 345,000 square miles, or about 175,000,000 acres. It extends through nearly ten degrees of latitude and over thirteen degrees of longitude. It has 60,000 square miles more than the German empire; 70,000 square miles more than all France, and mors than twice as large as the kingdom of Great Britain. It is nearly five times as large as Illinois, six times as large as New York, and mnre than t lirty-five times the area of Massachusetts. Take the six New England States, add the four Middle States, then add Maryland, Virginia, and North Carolina, and all these thirteen States are not so large as Texas. The census of 1889 will show a population of about 2,000,000, one-half of whom have entered the State within the last ten years. The entire popu lation of the United States could be comfortably supported on the soil of this gigantic commonwealth “ So, emigrants and homeless men Need no logger vex u®; For all that aren’t provided lor HadJjetter go to Texas.” FOR THE PEOPLE. A Few Remarks. Several gentlemen were sitting on the veranda of the Plankinton house one warm evening recently, when the con versation turned upon the subject of profits in the various kinds of business. A banker who was present inquired of a newspaper man whose name we sup press on account of respect lor his family, if newspaper* ever made any money. The newspaper man said there were instances of the kind, but they were rare, and pointed to the fact that Mr. Cramer, of the Evening Wisconsin, had made so much money that he was obliged to start a bank of his own to hold it ail. Yes, he said, newspapers quite frequently make money, but in stend of hoarding it away they put it into their business, adding new attrac tions to their paper. He said he hud known country newspapers to make as high as two or three dollars a day, dur ing harvest when the editor put his printer in charge of the office while he took his customary vacation. A drug gist who was present said he always had an idea the newspapers made all the money that was made, except what was made by the meat market men. This was intended to wake up a lead ing meat man who sat in a chair tipped back against the building. The drug gist said he had often watched a butcher when he sold a roast. The butcher would saw off a roast, and throw it on the scales and it would weigh eight pounds, and then he began to trim it. He would chop out about two pounds of the backbone with his cleaver, then dis sect out a pound of ribs, remove the kidney tallow, and when he has got done, and spiked it up in a ball with skewers, it would weight about four pounds. The druggist said if lie could have the profits of a meat market for three months he would pay the na tional debt and stop so much talk about it. The gentleman from the meat market here arose, and was recog nized by the speaker of the house. He said he had thought seriously of becom ing a druggist when he was a young man, but when he saw that prescrip tions containing only five cents worth of drugs were sold to customers for fifty cents, his contcience would not permit him, and he had sold meat in order that he might lead a Christian life and stand some show after death. He said if the druggist wanted to go into the business of selling meat, and undersell the pres ent dealers, he could probably find a vacant building somewhere that could be had for a reasonable rent. The drug gist said he supposed a man in busi ness had to live, but he was sorry the man of meat had such a tender con science, as he would have starved to death years ago if he had kept a drug store, A druggist he said, charged something for his knowledge, the same as a lawyer, as it took years to learn the profession so as not to get strychnine in the place of asafetida. “A drug gist,” said he, casting a withering glanci at the market man, “ must know some thing. and perhaps it is as well ’hat you didn’t attempt—” Friends rushed in and separated them; hut the thread of pleasant conversation had been broken, and the pot eh was soon after deserted. We are convinced that it is unwise for men to speak of business matters while engaged insocia converse. —Miluoukce Sun. Winnipeg, A writer in Harper's Magazine give the following interesting account of Winnipeg, the capital of Manitoba, in British America: Morning light re vealed to us the metropolis of the Northwest. We saw a broad main street bordered with high wooden side walks, and rows of shops of every shape and size. Some were rude wooden shanties; others were fine buildings of yellow brick. High overall towered the handsome tower of the Knox church Several saw and grist mills sent up in cessant puffs of white steam into the pure air. The street was lull of bustle and life. There were wagons of all de scriptions standing before the stores. Dong lines of Red river carts were load ing with freight for the interior. The sidewalks were filled with a miscellan eous crowd of people; German peasants, the women in dark blue gowns and head kerchiefs, the men marked by their lit tle flat caps; French half-breeds, with jaunty buckskin jackets, many colored scarfs around the waists, and their black hair shining with oil; Indians, dark, solemn, gaunt, stalking along in blanket and moccasins; Scotch and English people, looking as th y do all the world over, but here, perhaps, a little quicker and more energetic. The middle of the street, though there has been lut a sin gle night of rain, was a vast expanse of mud—mud so tenacious that the wheels of the wagons driving through it were almost as large as mill wheels; and when we dared to cross it we came out on the other side with much difficulty, and feet of elephantine proportions. The city of Winnipeg, which eight years ago was nothing more than a clus ter of houses about the Hudson Bay company’s fort, now contains over 7,000 inhabitants. It is the distributing cen ter for a large region, a place of great business activity, and so situated in re lation to the back country and the fa cilities for transportation that it is some times called “The Bleeder’s Paradise.” It is built on a clay bank at the junction of the Assiniboine with the Red river. The nature of the soil is such that it is difficult to find a good foundation for a house, and many of the larger buildings have settled and cracked. On a tree near Swan’s Springs, Cal., J. Woods found hanging a costly hunt ing-case gold watch, a lady’s enameled watch, and two long gold neck chains. FARM, HARDEN AND HOUSEHOLD. Culture or Onion*. A correspondent of the Country Gen tleman writes the following answer to a question in that journal: Perhaps the experience of one who has culti vated onions for ten sears may be of some benefit to the unitiated. My method is as follows: If the ground is so wet thst it would be difficult to plow it well in the spring, or is in clined to be lumpy, I should plow it in the fall and cultivate it thoroughly in the spring, before applying the manure. Otherwise I should not do the plowing until a few days before sowing the seed, as by so doing all the weed seeds which may be on the top of the ground are turned under and cannot get up until the onions get a start, thereby saving considerable weeding. ‘a here can be no definite time for sow ing the seed, as it all depends on the weather. I generally sow about the first of May, but considerable later than that will do. The best crop I ever raised was sown on the fifteenth day of May. The rule I follow is to wait until the season is so far advanced that the ground is well warmed. As for manures, if I could get plenty of well rotted barnyard manure, I would U3e it in preference to any of the fertilizers, although it makes nearly double the weeding. Ten or twelve loads of well rotted manure, with forty or fifty bushels of unleached ashes and 400 pounds of land plaster, are sufficient for an acre each 5 ear. If Ido not have manure I use 500 or 600 pounds of some kind of fertilizer, with the above-men tioned Quantity -of ashes and plaster. But whether manures or fertilizers are used, it should be spread on the ground after it is plowed, and a day or two be fore the seed is to be sown, and be well harrowed in. Then spread on the ashes broadcast. The plaster can b? sowed on now or a week or two later, but I prefer the latter method. Use a light harrow after the ashes are spread; then the pulverizer, which c.\n be used with great advantage, and it saves nearly all the raking, except at the ends. One man can rake the ground as fast as one can drill. It is now ready for drilling. I put the rows fifteen inches apart, and as straight as possible, for straight rows cultivate easier and better then crooked ones. Four pounds of good seed is plenty for n.n acre. Be sure that the drill sows regularly and clearly. On dryish ground the feed should be cov ered about an inch deep; on moist ground one-half or three quarters will do. As soon as the onions are up enough to see the rows, I go through them with a hand cultivator, and do this, if possible, once a week until they get too large to work in. At the second or third cultivating, or sooner if the ground is foul, I weed them. Avery useful tool to weed with, where the ground is hard, can be made out of an old hoe by cutting off the sides of the blade until there is a strip an inch and a half wide left, grinding the sides and edge sharp, and putting in a handle ten inches long; but where the ground is soft and easy to work, I find that the fingers alone will weed faster than any thing ehe; an l it they get tender and sore, rubber finger stalls, which can be bought at nearly every drug store, are a very great help. Be sure and ki ep ahead ot the weeds, for if they once get the start of you, you will repent on youi hands and knees many days. When the tops have nearly all fallen down and look dead they are fit to pull. II you have anything to run under the rows and cut the roots, they can be raked out very readily, and two men— one to cut the roots and one to rake —can go over an acre and a half in a day. It you have nothing to cut the roots with, I think the best way is to pull three rows in together, and when you wish to take them off the field rake three of these rows together, when they can be takm up very fast with a coke fork. The tops should be cutoff about an inch Irom tbe bulb. The best thing for this purpose that I have ever seen is a common pair of shears with the blades cut off nearly half way down. All that now remains to be done is to sell them for a good price. Sulphur for Animals. If taken internally with their food, sulphur will almost invariably keep all kinds of animals free from lice. We have made a practice for years past of giving a heaping tablespoonful once a week in the feed of each of our cows, and the same quantity to about every ten hens in our flock, and they have never been troubled with lice in them. It may be given in the same porportion as to size when required in the food of poultry, pigs and sheep. Sulphur is a mild cathartic when desired for this purpose,and in small doses seems to have a general beneficial effect on the ani mal system, something like salt, though, of course, not of that nature. — Rural New Yorker. Keclnes. Lemon Cream. —Take a pint ofthick sweet cream, and put to it the yolks of two eggs well beaten, four ounces of fine sugar, and thin rind of one lemon; boil it up; then stir it till almost cold; put the juice of a lemon in a dish or bowl, and pour the cream upon it, stir ring it till quite cold. Milk Biscuit. —Two pounds flour, one-fourth pound of lard or butter, one teacup of yeast, one teaspoonful of salt, one pint of milk; make a soft dough and set at ten o’clock; stir at three and mold into biscuits, adding more flour if necessary. Let them rise until nearly tea time and bake twenty minutes. Miners delight in picking a “pocket.” —Cincinnati Commercial. TIMELY TOPICS. The Chicago THmes says that a few weeks ago an engine 'started on the Lake Shore and Michigan Southern railroad for the locality of a wreck, with Superintendent Parsons in the cab, the distance to be run being six miles; that the engineer opened the throttle wide, and the superintendent took out his stop-watch and timed tho run, and that the speed was at the ra‘e of eighty one miles per hour. The en ine—one of the best on the road —rocked and rolled about so fearfully that the men were “almost seasick,’’ and the engineer, one of the oldest and bravest in the ser vice, showed a ghastly pale face at the end of the run. The Prussian capital has long con tained a jewel of fabulous value, the news of whose existence was first made known by the reports of the last session of the Polytechnic society. The noble stone is a sapphire, and is the property of one of the members of that learned body. It weighs a little more than six ounces. The jury of the Polytechnic society have settled its value at the frightful sum of 61,000,G00 marks, or about $16,000,000 ot American money. It need hardly be said that such a treas me is not likely to find a purchaser at such a price. Its present possessor lias placed his treasure in state custody for the sake of his h Dr. Treichler, a German physician, has lately made some much-noted com ments on habitual headache among young people, a trouble which lie avers is largely on the increase. He is in clined to attribute it to excessive intel lectual exertion, often caused by the fancy of parents for having a great variety of subjects taught, and more especially to night work, whieh, he says! produces in the brain the ame condition os would be produced in the muscles, if, after a long day’s march, a mountain climber were to continue walking far on into the night, and were to repeat this day after day. Dr. Treichler's let ter has elicited from a London physician a statement that he has sometimes found the brain to be growing fastw than the skull whieh contained it. What seemed like great stupidity was for a time the result, but in time the skull effected its enlargement, and the brain was relieved. One of the dangers most likely to occur in schools arises irom the fact that the Mine lessons are necessarily allotted to ail in a class, and while they entail no effort of intellect on the part of one, may be a frightful labor to another. It is the dull, laborious pupil, we suspect, who oftentimes is the most injured by school pressure, and it should be. the study of the teacher to recognize him or her, and afford aid and encouragement. Origin of the Plow. In a paper on the origin of the plow. Dr. Taylor states that the first agricul tural implement sec-ms to have been a pointed stick four or five feet long, sueh as many savage tribes still carry for the purpose of digging roots, knocking down fruits and unearthing animals. At a later day the stick was bent and used as a hoe, the point being hardened by fire, in the southern part of Sweden large tracts of land give evidence of early cul tivation, which is a tributed to a pre historic people ca’ied by the natives the “hackers,” who are always associated with the giants of mytho’ogy, and rude hoe was a fir pole with a short pro jecting branch. There came into u-c afterward a larger instrument of the same kind, which was not used like the hoe but dragaed by men or oxen. In stances of this are to be found in old Egyptian pictures and bas-reliefs, and it was probably the primitive idea of the plow, which is of prehistoric origin, evi dences being found of its early use among the Greeks, Egyptians and Chinese. It had from the earliest times a religious sanction. The next improvement was a wooden hook shod with iron; and in the time of Virgil a wheeled plow was in use whieh differed but little Irom the best in Europe a century ago. Murdering His Uanghtcr. James Tobin, a boss stevedore, of Chicago, murdered his daughter in that city. He went home intoxicated and turned his family out of the house dur ing a heavy thunder-storm because his wife refuse and to go for beer for him and a friend who was with him. Subse quently his daughter Mollie, a girl seventeen years of age, ventured into the house, and he sent her out with f 5 to buy a valis*, saying that he was going to pack up his things and leave his family forever. She got the valise and returned, but neglected to provide a key. This enraged Tobin, and h tore the lock to pieces and ordered Mollie to return the valise and bring back the money. She went into an ad joining room, but he, suspecting that she was not obeying his orders, fol lowed, dragging her back by the hair and throwing her violently upon tie floor. He then jumped on her breast with his knee and began pounding her, she crying: “Oh, father, do not kill me!” When Tobin stopped maltreat ing his daughter Mrs. Robinson, who resides in the house and had been call ing for help, assisted Mollie into the next room, but the blood came frothing to her lips, and she died in a few min utes. Tobin was arrested, and denied having killed his daughter, but Mrs. Robinson and his eight-year-old son re vealed the story of his brutal act. Sixteen years ago Mary Mulhaney hanged herself from a tree at Coshocton, Ohio, because her lover deserted her, and now the lover, Henry Moore, has been killed under the same tree by the accidental discharge of a gun, PRICE-8 1.50 PER ANNUM. NUMBER 2. Nothings. Only some withered blossoms, Crumbling to dry decay; Only a glove half torn in two, And idly thrown away; Only a heart that’s breaking— That is, if hearts could break; Only a man adiitt lor lite, All for a woman’s sr.ke. Only a lew such tokens Prized by a love-9ick tool, Naught but the ashes that strew the ground When love’s hot flame grows cool. Not t ; e flrit man by thousands The dupe of a heartless flirt; Not the first time that priceless love Was treated like common dirt. Only in jest! You know it Now, though it’s rather late— Rather too late to turn in your liie, And seek another Jate. You’re not a man like thousands, With a heart that wiil veer and twirl And feel a glow at the word and glanoe Ot every flirting girl. Finished forever, and done; Wrecked by a treacherous smile; Following madly a will-o’-the-wist, Happy, if but for a while. Only a heart that’s broken— That is, ii hearts could break, Only a man adrift for life, All for a woman’s sake. Harper's Bazar. ITEMS OF INTEREST. Cats have no fixed political belief. They arc usually on the fence. On the island of the Neuse, N. C., is a cypress tree, in the hollow of which a horse can be turned around. The members of a recently elected Pennsylvania school board are Isaac L. Eagle, Joel Fox and Samuel G. Bear. A small boy who for the first time noticed a cherry tree in bloom, enthu siastically directed the attention of his mother to “ the popcorn tree.” In Belgium there are 40,000 persons ion raged in braiding straw hats, and 0) o>o in sewing hats. The yearly income accruing to these workers is SBOO,OOO. Six great English brewers were de feated in the recent elections, including Sir Arthur Guinness, of Dublin, who has spent vast sums in restoring ca thedrals. A mathematician has calculated that a Memphis citizen who drinks Wolf river water annually absorbs four times his weight in red clay, besides swallow ing about fifty pounds’weight of the debris of dead caterpillars. On a sheep range at Desert Springs, Nev., the slaughter has been terrible by wildcats and coyotes. A poisoned carcass was thrown in the pen, and on the following morning, within a cir cumference of 300 yards, the bodies of fifteen coyotes and ten cats were found. Jim (sotto voce): Six daughters of Brigham Young have been excommunicated from the Mor mon chureh for charging their father’s executors and other saints with de frauding them of $1,000,000 causing the imprisonment of said executors, and jeopardizing the liberty of John Taylor, president of the church. “ I will propose to her right ow, Hang me it I’m nfeared— I do feel catawampna like, But drat me if I'm skeered.” Jim (fortissimo): 1 Mariar, wouldn’t you—won’t you— Will you—say, will you have”— “ What is it, Jim, speak, why don’t you ?” Jim (collapsed): “ Come and see our new call.” A young bachelor sheriff was called upon to serve an attachment against a beautiful young widow; he accordingly called upon her and said : “ Madam, I have an attachment for you.” The widow blushed, and said his attach ment was reciprocated. “You don’t understand me; you must proceed to court.” “ I know it is leap-year, sir, but I prefer you to do the courting.” “Mrs. P., this is no time for trifling, the justice is waiting.” “The justice is? Why, I prefer a parson.”- New Or leans Hcayune. Charcoal, Charcoal, laid flat while cold on a burn, causes the pain to abate immedi ately ; by leaving it on for an hour the burn seems almost healed when the burn is superficial. And charcoal is valuable for many other purposes. Tainted meat, surrounded with it, is sweetened; strewn over heaps of decomposing pelts, or over dead animals, it prevents any unpleasant odor. Foul water is puri fied by it. It is a great disinfect ant, and sweetens offensive air if placed in shal low trays around apartments. It is so very porous in its “minute interior,” it absorbs and condenses gases n ost rapidly. One cubic inch of fresh char coal will absorb nearly one hundred inches of gaseous ammonia. Charcoal form., an unrivaled poultice for malig- D.an: wounds and sores, often corroding away the dead flesh, reducing it to one quarter in six hours In cases of what call proud flesh it is invaluable. I have seen mortification arrested by it. It g-ves no disag:eeabL odor, co rodes no niftai, h rts no texture, injures no color, is a imple and safe sweetener and disin ectant. A teasp onful of char coal, in half a glass of water, often ri lieves a sick hiadache; it absorbs the gases and relieves the distended stomach pressing against the nerves, which extend from the stomach to the head. Charcoal absorbs a hundred times its weight of gas or wind in the stomach or bowels, and in this way it purifies Ihe breath. It often re ieveji constipation, pain or heartburn.