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W. A. 4 K'* H AL.K,) Ed,,ors nnd I*ropr| tors. BEFORE THE LEAVES FALL I wonder if oak and maple, Willow and elm and all, Are stirred at heart by the coming Of the day their leaves mast fall Do they t hink of the yellow whirlwind <)r of the crimson spray, 1 hat shall he when chill Novcmlier Bears all the leaves away? “Tf die we must,” the leaflets Seem one by one to say, “We will wear the color's of all the earth Until we pass away. No eye Shall see us falter ; And before we lav it down, We’ll wear in the sight of all the earth The year’s most kingly crown.” • So trees of the stately forest, And trees by the trodden way You are kindling into glory This soft Autumnal day. And we who gaze, reremember That more than all they lost, To hearts aid trees together, May come through rii>etiing frost. AFTER ALL THE WAKEFUL YEARS I* it then so hard to die? bile hath not such unmarred bliss After the last parting erv; Jteath is hut blank nothingness. Now it seemeth sad to lie baid in some drear chamber dead, While the loved ones fearfully Move around with awe-lnisned tread. Then we shall he sleeping deep, Theirs, not ours, shall be the tears; Is it then so hard to sleep, After all these wakeful years? What should make us fear or fail That we never wake again ? What is death, that we should quail—. Is it not sure end of pain ? Perfect slumber, perfect rest, No more heat or rains, or snows, No more hopeless, weary quest, No more fading of life’s rose ; No more sorrow-lands to reap, No more waking unto tears; Is it then so hard to sleep, After all the wakeful years? THE REGULAR DETECTIVE. W'liiit Up Owes to Society and lion lie Pay* *lip Debt—Some Interesting Inei dents. A correspondent of the World, writing of the detective system, gives the follow ing interesting incident: It is very hard to make the detective understand that he owes anything to so ciety. His moral sense is never cultivated. He quite as often prevents a criminal from reforming, as he prevents justice from overtaking him. Captain Young once told me of several cases where the stupid indiscretion of the officer, had loaded society with outlaws. One was that of the well-known one-eyed Thomp son, who, early in his career, was saved from the clutches of the law by some friends, who raised a sum of money for him and sent him out west. He settled in a thriving town on the border, and changing his name, made a most praise worthy effort to become a useful member of society. He opened a store, won the respect of the towns-people, was actually made selectman, and was in a fair way to live long and die honored for his many virtues, when suddenly he turned up on the streets here again. “Hallo!” says Captain Young, “j thought you had ‘ squared it ’ and was out west? ” “Yes; I thought so too,” says Thomp son. “But it was no use; one of your men did my business for me!” It seems that this detective, sitting on the varanda of the new hotel, opposite to the store which the reformed man had opened, “spotted him.” “Well, I’m blessed if there isn’t ‘one-eyed Thomp son !’ ” Some of the peopled guessed not. Oh, no! that was Mr. Simpson, a respec ted and prominent citizen. “Oh ho! it was, eh? If that isn’t ‘one-eyed Thompson,’ the burglar, then I’ll go back and join the church!” “A 11 up,” says Thompson; “ I’m done for. Here I am, captain. It was one of your men that fixed me!” And so well fixed was he that he be came the most noted law-braker of his day. It is the easiest thing in the world to hunt a man down when he is trying to be honest with his own record against him. There is a case on record of a young man in a prominent dry goods house in this city who, in a moment of temptation, forged a check on his employers. It was a peculiarly painful affair. The lad was well connected, and when the detectives made the discovery it almost broke his parents’ hearts. However, after some trouble the matter was compromised. The father paid the money, and some mitigation of sentence was effected. With the stain upon him he started out to redeem his character, if he could. After wandering about for some time he obtained a situation in New Orleans as entry clerk, and at the end of the year saw a fair prospect of achieving success. His employers had confidence in him, and he had made numerous reputable ac quaintances. One day, while on the sidewalk super intending the shipment of some goods, one of these New York men came along. “ Halloo ! you here ?” “ Yes,” said this young man with his heart in his mouth. ** What are you doing?” “ Trying to earn an honest living !” It seems incredible, but it is true. The ollieer went straight into the store. One week later the young man was in New York. “God knows,” said he, “I tried as hard as anybody could to be honest, but it’s no use ! ” Of course a detective who had the slightest notion of his obligations as a man to society, to say nothing of his duty as an officer, would not have made this mistake. And that reminds me of another case which ought to teach even police officers that discretion and kindness are not without fruits even in this business. Everybody in the force remembers Johnny Maas. He was a pickpocket, and belonged to a mob that worked on the w’est side. How he got into the company of these people it would be hard to tell. But he was an adroit and rather amiable thief that scarcely ever caused the force any trouble. It was customary in the days of the metropol itan police to lock up all the pickpockets and “guns” when there was to be a great celebration or procession. They were merely ordered to the central office, and there kept until the city was re stored to its usual quiet. Johnny Maas only needed to be told to go to head quarters to report himself there promply. He was a young man, rather slight in build, and somewhat taciturn. To the surprise of the superintendent, lie came to the office one afternoon and inquired when all the special men would be in, He was told he could see them in the morning. When the morning came he was there. After the roll was called the superintendent said: “ Now, Johnny, the men are all here if you want to speak to them.” He got up from the corner in which lie was sitting, and wringing out his cap with his two hands, proceeded to address them in a faltering and abashed manner: “ Well, you see, I’ve concluded to square it. You’ve been pretty rough on me for some time, and I’ve got a "sister that’s got the heart disease, and she’s took it inter her head that she’d live a Lit longer if as how I’d do the right thing, and I told her I’d make a try of it; and if you men ’ll gimme a hand Avhy I don’t mind makin’ it a go. I don’t want to get ‘ the cholera’ no more, and if the gal ’ll live a bit longer on my ac count I am willin’.” All the men went up and shook hands with him, and it was agreed that he shouldn’t have _ “the cholera” unless he broke through his resolution. About a year after that, in the dead of ti severe winter, the superintendent was coming through Crosby street into Bleecker, and he met Johnny Maas. The fellow was dressed in a thin, bombazine coat, lie was collarless, and his feet were out, and he looked hungry, pinched and wretched. I’m glad you’ve kept your word, Johnny. But it’s going pretty hard with you, I suppose, to be honest?” “Awful hard, sir,” said Johnny ; “but I told her I would, and I did.” “ That’s right. Don’t you go back of your word. Stick it out, You’ll have better times by-and-bv.” “Do you see that bank over there?” said the young man, pointing to the marble building in Bleecker street. “ Well, there aint money enough in that place to make me go back. I’d rather go cold and hungry and not be hunted— so I would.” The next summer one of the hotel pro prietors at Long Branch sent up to the superintendent for a man to keep an eye on the thieves that hang around a water ing-place. “lean get you a man,” said the superintendent, thinking of Johnny, “but I’m bound to tell you he’s been a thief.” “ Then I don’t want him.” Then the superintendent told the story I have told, only he told it better. “ Send him down,” said the landlord. “ A chap that’ll do that ought to be helped.” It was $25 a week to Johnny, and it made a man of him. During that season there wasn’t a robbery committed at the Branch. Johnny stationed himself at the railroad depot, and when he saw a former pal he warned him off. “It’s no use,” he would say, “ I don’t want to pipe none o’ you boys, and I ain’t goin’ to do it if you stay away. If you come here it’ll be awful rough on both of us.” And to their credit it ought to be said that they always went back. How to Make Marriage Beautiful. In the first place, let people defer to the laws of health, of sanity, hereditary soundness; let them obey restrictions, consult wholesome seasons, respect the limits set up by the common sense of nature. Natural ignorance on these points is filling marriage with unnecces sary evils; they not only spoil the well being of a family, hut spoil its disposi tion. Let the work in every house be reduced, by a reduction of its ambitions, till all its parlors, all its tables, all its clothes, exactly represent the current condition of every family; not a bracket or a ribbon for exaggeration, not a single room for parade, neither sewing, washing, eating, scouring, company-giving beyond actual needs, and all done by the least elaborate methods. Then, in the second place, reduce to the lowest possible point the disturbances which arise from ignor ance and vanity, from artificial training; you simply liberate marriage for more effective discharge of its spiritual pur pose. The men ind women might suspect that they wi re ilLmated till life itself pronounced the banns. Teach children that marriage only prolongs their school hours into the future or sterner discipline and less perishable attainments. Warn them against those affectionate extravagances which under mine respect, against the physical errors which so sap the will that it is humbled and enslaved by annoyances which health and freshness laugh at. And teach them simplicity, make vulgar habits and ambi tions appear odious to them, ply their imagination with austere and noble forms, tempt them to fall in love first with spiritual beauty, whose service makes them free, then they will be better pre p:ired to discover that marriage withholds felicity until it has been earned. Little Things. —Little words are the sweetest to hear; little charities fly furthest, and stay longest on the wing; little flakes sire the stillest; little hearts the fondest, and little farms the best tilled. Little books are the most read, and little songs the dearest loved. And when nature would make any thing especially rare and beautiful, she nmkes it little—pearls, little diamonds, little dew. Agar’s is a model prsiyer, yet it is but a little one, and the burden of the petition is but for little. The Sermon on the Mount is little, but the bust, dedi cation discourse was an hour. Life is made up of littles; death is what re mains of them sill. Day is made up of little beams and night is glorious with little stars. The New Testament revision in Eng land, a work in which quite a number of eminent divines are engaged, has now been going on five years, and to complete it probably five years more will be re quired. The revisers are reported hav ing entirely completed their work upon the four gospels, excepting so far as two questions are concerned, which still cause a difference of opinion and are yet to be decided. The number of disputed points is very great, and requires a vast amount of research to satisfactorily set tle many of them. On the subject of matrimony, a French philosopher advises: “Fathers and mothers if you should choose to take the trouble to see through your future sons-in-law, just look out of the window sit them sis they ring the door bell. Daughters needn’t look ; maidens in love never have but one eye, and most of the time not even that.” CARTERS VILLE:, GEORGIA, MONDAY EVENING, OCTOBER IS, 1575. TRENCH LIFE. .Wore of Antenp Hoiiwaye’s Spasmodic Friend*. I would tell Barthet in the morning to write to some personage. He psissed the order to Gaiffe, who passed it on to De troyes, who prepared the letter in si sen .. exactly contrary to what I had indicated I soon, therefore, had to content myself with \ erteuil alone, without, however, taking away Barthet’s salary. “My dear friend,” I said to him, “you are my sec retary, and you can write plavs for the theater, instead of letters for the Direc tion.” But he would not be h secretary in partibus; he insisted on his share in the Direction. He disarranged every thing in his zeal. Here is an instance. One evening, when Rachel was playing his “ Sparrow,” he saw in the boxes a man who was laughing heartily between two Lesbias. He ran to the box and opened it with authority. He spoke to the laugher, who laughed in his face. Upon which the pugnacious poet took him by the collar and walked him to the corridor. Who do you suppose was the laugher? The Prefect of Police. There was a great tumult and I was sent for. Luckily, I was acquainted with Carlier. But it was not the Prefect whom it was hard to appease, but Barthet himself. The next morning, to make things end pleasantly, what does Barthet do but write this pretty note to the Prefect: ‘ I imagined, Sir, that I could not do better than apply to the Prefect of Po lice. It seems that 1 could not have done worse.” I was forced, to my great regret, to part with Armand Barthet. But I still remained his friend, as also did Rachel. She invited him to her suppers, hut in his quality of Bohemia he was rather too unceremonious. The Bohemians gene rally piqued themselves on not being men of the wojrld. Ido not impute this on them as a crime, but as Barthet did not wear a white cravat to his beer cel lar, he ought not to have worn a ragged neckcloth at Mile. Rachel’s. Some re gard should be paid to custom, even in the republic of letters. He got married to a wife who made him in love with marrisige. But the money question was always there. He did not come to absolute poverty, but he was desperate at his inability to* msike a fortune for his wife while he was grad ually losing his own literary capital He was siggressive even to his last dsiys of reason, not to speak of his days of madness. One morning while hunting he met one of his neighbors who had a red nose. “My dear fellow,” he said, “ I forbid you to present yourself before me again with that nose. * Get yourself a silver nose or else keep out of my way.” The neighbor was enraged. “ See,” said Barthet, “your nose is crimson. Once more I tell you, I won’t stand it.” The man with the rosy nose was furious; so was Barthet. A challenge passed and they fought the next day, to the great merriment of the country, for Barthet had sworn he would cut off his neigh bor’s nose, but the neighbor instead slit Barthet’s ear. M. Proudhomme will not fail to say that Barthet must have been a difficult man to get on with. But, apart from these fantastic gusts of temper, he was not only the best of •friends, but he would have thrown himself into the sea for the first comer. He was a great heart, but a bad temper. There was more than one point of resemblance be tween him and Clesinger, the great sculptor and ex-cuirassier, who has al ways a cuirassier in a salon. One day in a cafe the sculptor was denouncing a minister who did not give him a million a year in orders, and brought his fist violently down on the table. The master of the establishment came to him, repre senting in the most deferential manner that he might “break the marble.” “ Marble,” said Clesinger, “ that’s my business. I am the sculptor Clesinger.” Here he slapped his neighbor’s table. His neighbor was M. Champagne, a fa mous blade. “ Monsieur,” lie said, “ I do not like a noise except sword in hand.” “ Very well,” said Clesinger, “we will try that.” I was a second at that singular duel. Barthet was buried at Ivry. He has not a single friend in that cemetery of nameless clods. There were four of us at his funeral. COUKT ETIQUETTE. Soinr of tli“ Swncn at llie Court of Sit. Jarnrs. A correspondent writes from London; The act of presentation is rery easy and simple. Formerly indeed—until within a few years—it must have been a very perilous and important feat. The courtier (the term is used inaccurately, there being no noun to describe a person who goes to court for a single time) was compelled to walk up a long room and to back, bowing, out of the queen’s pres ence. For ladies who had trains to man age, the ordeal must have been a trying one. Now it has been made quite easy. There is but one point in which a presen tation to the Queen differs from that at the Prince of Wales’ levees. You may turn your back to the Prince, but after bowing to the Queen you step off into the crowd, still facing her. There (if you have good luck to be presented in the diplomatic circle) you may stand and watch a most interesting pageant. To the young princess, perhaps, it is not very amusing; but there is plenty in it to oc cupy and interest the man who sees it for the first or second time. You do not have to ask, “Who is this?” and “Who is that?” The Lord Chamberlain an nounces each person as he or she appears. You hear the most heroic and romantic names in English history as some boy or woman appears to represent them. One sees a number of beautiful persons. The young slips/)f girls who come to be pre sented for the first time, frighted and pale and flushed, one admires and feels a sense of loyalty too. The name of each person is called out loudly by the Lord Chamberlain. The ladies bow very low, and those to whom the Queen gives her hand to kiss nearly or quite touch their knees to the carpet. No'act of homage to the Queen ever seems exaggerated, her behavior being so modest, and the sympathy with her so wide and sincere; but ladies very nearly kneel in shaking hands with any mem ber of the royal family, not only at court, but elsewhere. It is not so strange look ing, the kneeling to a royal lady, but to see a stately mother or some soft Maiden rendering such nu act of homage to h young gentleman impresses one unpleas antly. The courtesy of a lady to a prince or princess is something between kneeling and that genuflection one meets in the English agricultural districts; the props of the boys and girls seejn momen tarily to be knocked away, and they sud denly catch themselves in descending. It * Monished me, 1 remember, at a party to see one patrician young woman shake hands with not a very imposing young prince ami bend her regal knees into this curious ami sudden little cramp. I saw her, this adventurous maid, some days afterwards in ss handsome cab, directing with her imperious parasol the cabby to this and that shop. This jumble of the new and the old struck me again and again wherever I turned. The mysterious scarlet coaches toiled along Piccadilly side by side with the smart wagons of the Cheshire cheese and butter company. To the traveler who idles away a balmy morning in Green Point, cm he resist for a moment the blue hues of the Abbey towers and the warm shining greensward, this im pression is often present. The goblins, wont to disport themselves in the medi aeval moonshine, have been suddenly overtaken by a flood of common plsice daylight. There is the veritable St. James palace. But no Charles drives forth Irom its open portal as in the gav pictures on the curtains of the theatres. Ihe world belated expresses the gen eral impression, which the monarchical and aristocratic fsibric of English society makes upon the observer. It is like the banquet hall the morning sifter banquet; the goblets over-turned, the dishes half emptied and the strong sunlight pours in upon the silent chamber, long deserted by the revelers. Long Trains, Our landlady’s daughter, writes Oliver Wendell Homes, is a young lady of some pretensions to gentility, fehe wears her bonnet well back upon her head, which is known to be a mark of high breeding. She wears her trains very long, as the great ladies do in Europe. To be sure, their dresses are so made only to sweep the tapestried floors of chateaus and palaces; sis those odious aristocrats of the other side do not go dragging through the mud in silks and satins, but, forsooth, must ride in coaches when they are in full dress. It is true that, considering various habits of the American people, also the little accidents which the best kept sidewalks arc liable to, a lady who has swep a mile of them is not exactly in such a condition that one would csire to be her neighbor. But confound the make-believe women who have turned loose in our streets. Where do they come from? Not out of Boston parlors. I trust. Why, there isn’t a beast or a bird that would drag its tail through the dirt in the way these creatures do their dresses. Because si queen or a duchess wears long robes on great oecsisions, a maid-of-all work or si factory girl thinks she must make herself a nuisance by trailing about with her—pah! that’s what I call getting vulgarity into your bones smd marrow. Making believe what you are not is the essence of vulgarity. Hhow over dirt is the one attribute of vulgar people. If any man can walk behind one of these women an 1 see what she rakes up sis she goes, and not feel squeamish, he has got si tough stomach. I wouldn’t let one of ’em in my room without serving them as David served Saul at the cave in the wilder ness—cut off his skirts, sir, cut off his skirts. Don’t tell n c that a true ladv ever sacrifices the duty of keeping all about her sweet end clean to the wish of mstking a vulgar show. I won’t believe it of a lady. There are some things that no fashion has si right to touch, and cleanliness is one of those things. If a woman wishes to show that her husband or father has got money which she wants and means to spend, but doesn't know how, let her buy a yard or tw> of silk and pin it to her dress wheo she goes out to walk, but let I er unpin it before she goes in‘o the house. The Story of a Working Girl. The New York correspondent of the Baltimore American says: The simple funeral of a working girl which took plsice yesterday was so touching in some of its incidents, and illustrates so thor oughly the real hardships which many of them suffer, that it is worth mentioning. I have never pitied working girls for their work. Work in itself is not a hard ship—it is a blessing; and work to this girl, sis to most others, brought her all the comfort, sill the relief she obtained from the miseries of her home. Her story was that of a thousand others. She was one of a large family, depend ent on the labor of a common, somewhat shiftless, drinking, ill-conditioned man. Her mother belonged to si different or der; she was gentle, sind as long sis she could worked and suffered, but she could never get quite enough of any kind ot food for them to eat or clothes to wear, and she died sit last, as much as any thing, of starvation; for if they had little she had scarcely anything sit all. Yet they never fell into the ranks of the very poor, and few knew or guessed that she had crucified natural instinct and appetite until there was no life lefr in her. It was said she died of consump tion, but really she died for the want of it. Naturally the mantle of her mother fell on Nellie. Hhe was the oldest living daughter. Hhe hsid been in si great city establishment, since she was ten years old. It was the whole outside world to her. As long sis her mother was living she brought her lunch, and showed signs of care, but sifter her death she rapidly grew thin and pale and shadowy. All her earnings were absorbed at home; all her time in the evening, far into the night, and even Sundays, was occupied in doing the sewing of the family—that is, mending and keeping together their poor substitutes for the usual garments and changes. She came to work with regularity up to within four weeks of her death, and many were the little offers made her of help, and of shares of indi vidual buns and doughnuts, for Nellie was a universal favorite. No one thought of her as a woman (she was twenty-two); she looked so childish, and had always seemed a child to every one, that she was treated like a child at her work, and her reserve was so great that hardly any knew of the woman's cares and duties and burdens that were pressing upon her. A t last she was obliged to stop, and it almost broke her hearts Her work, bet companions and their society were the bright spots in her life. She did not want to die, and it seemed unnatural that she should. Life was strong within her; it only had lisid no chance. But she wsis buried yesterday, and working girls, those who hsid worked with her, who knew and loved her, contributed from their small earnings, and bought her her muslin shroud, her flowers, and supplied the present necessities of the family—the father having tsiken himself out of the way altogether. It is this which makes the lives of working girls so hard—the want of comfortable homes, and intelligent, industrious fathers. In nearly every instance within my personal knowledge they are obliged to contrib ute their earnings to the support of the family, and receive poor, insufficient food, inadequate clothing, and bare shel ter in return. It ought to be made a criminal offense for men to marry and risk the lives for which they are responsible, or impose the burnden of an uncared-for Avife and children upon the community. The Green (and YelloAv) Isle. Charles Warren Stoddard writes: Ire land puts her best foot forward on which ever side you approach her. Within she is barren and blesik, and awfully uninter esting. Some miles of peat bog will do very ivell fora background, but when you findyourself swamped in the middle of it, somehow you lose all interest in this life, and naturally begin thinking of your lat ter end. Ireland is so lonesome, so mel ancholy, so thoroughly forsaken, that Avhen you come upon a town of any con siderable size, you wonder how they msm age to keep it up. There is plenty of land there, most of it rich and mellow, but it lies idle simply because there is no one to work it, or worse, those who have remained at home and are Avillingto work, can not afford to undertake it, they have not a penny to bless themselves with. They have a pig which bathes in green water in front of the door, and dries him self on the hearth by the peat fire in the one room of the cottage. The hens lay eggs in the bed, that is Avhen they can af ford to make shells and fill them; the cow looks in at the back window, which is without glass or sash, and sivears at the scarcity of* bran. I have seen a coav in the house examining a chest of drawers to see if there was anything eatable there abouts, while the family was literally crowded into the mud under the door sill, Avhere the pet pig snored luxurious ly. These very people would give you a sharp and Avitty reply, and very often si graceful one, to any remonstrance you might lie pleased to make. You find fragmentary unpublished pages of Lever, Charlton, Banim, Maxwell, Griffin, Mrs. S. C. Hall, and a host of other novelists in any hovel you enter; hut for the un bounded good humor of Pat and his Biddy, Ireland Avould indeed be a sor roAvful spot. Hans Andersen’s Characteristics. A writer in the London Academy says: In character Andersen was one of the most blameless of human creatures. A certain irritability of manner that almost amounted to petulance in his earlier days, and Avhich doubtless arose from the suffer ing of his childhood, became melloAved sis years went on into something like the sensitive sind psithetic sAveetness of n dumb animal. There Avas something in his whole appearance that claimed for him immunity from the rough Avays of the world, a child-like trustfulness, a tremulous and confiding affectionateness that appealed directly to the sympathy of those around. His personal appear ance was somewhat ungainly, a tall body Avitli arms of very unusual length, and features that recalled, at first instance, the usual blunt type of the blue-eyed, yellow-haired Danish peasant. But it was impossible to hold this impression after si moment’s observation. The eyes, somewhat deeply set in under arching eyebrows, were full of mysterious and changing expression, and a kind of exal tation, which never left the face entirely, though fading at times into reverie, gave a singular charm to si countenance that had no pretension toward beauty. The innocence and delicacy, like the pure, frank look of a girl-child, that beamed from Andersen’s face, gave it a unique character, hardly to be expressed in words; notwithstanding his native shrewd ness, he seemed to have gone through the Avorld not only undefiled but actually ignorant of its shadow-side. The one least pleasing side of his char acter avsis bis singular self-absorption. It AA r as impossible to be many minutes in his company Avithout his referring in the naivest Avay to his own greatness. The Queen of Timbuctoo had sent him this; the Pacha of Many Tales had given him such an order; such a little boy in the street had said:“ There goes the gresit Hans Andersen.” These reminiscences Avere incessant, smd it Avas all the same to him Avhether a little boy or a great queen noticed him, so long as he avsis noticed. This intense craving for perpetusil lauda tion, no matter from whom, Avas an idiosyncrasy in Andersen’s character, not j to be confounded Avith mere vulgar van ity. It avsis a strange and morbid char acteristic, to be traced no doubt to the distressing hardships of his boyhood. It av is harmless and guileless, but it was none the less fatiguing, smd it Avas so strongly developed that no biographical sketch of him can be considered fair that does not allude to it. During his life time it would have been inhuman to vex his pure spirit by dwelling on aAA-eakness that Avas entirely beyond his control, but it Avas only just to his own countrymen, who have been so harshly blamed for their want of sympathy with him, to mention the fact which made Andersen’s constant companionship a thing almost intolerable. In a small community like that of Copenhagen a little personal peculiarity of this kind is not so easily passed over as in a wider circle. Poor Minister’s Cake.—l teacup sugar, 1 tablespoon butter, 1 egg (all Avell beaten), 2 cups flour, 1 of sweet milk, 1 teaspoon cream tartar, A tea spoon soda, 2 teaspoons extract bitter almond. Sugar Crackers. —ll cups broAvn sugar, 2 eggs, beat the white, separate half* cup of lard and butter, 1 teaspoon of soda, \ teacup of sweet milk. Tread Cake. —1 cup bread dough, 1 egg. even teaspoon soda, a good half cup butter, 1 cup raisins, I eup sugar, tea l Gmifttmmj and eue t'l fc&Veli THE NEXT CONGRESS. Tlie Eloil-rall inal.izeil. The roll-call of the Forty-fourth con gress, shows a greater number of names duplicated than that of any preceding one; and Avhat is more singular is, that the names thus duplicated are not ex clusively or mainly of those considered most common, as, for instance, we find the name Williams, recorded seven times, as follows: Andrew Williams, of Plattsburg, N. Y.; A. S. Williams, De troit, Mich.; C. G. Williams, Janesville, Wis.; James 'Williams, Kenton, Del.; J. D. Williams, Wheatland, Ind.; W. B. Williams, Allegan, Mich.; J. N. Wil liams, Clayton, Ala. The Williamses from New York, Wisconsin sind W. B. of Michigsm are Republicans, and the others are Democrats. Harris.— This name Ave find recorded three times; B. W., from East Bridge water, Mass.; H. R., from Greenville, Ga., and J. TANARUS., from Harrisonburg, Ya. Only the Massachusetts Harris is a Re publican. Bagley. —Of this name there are tAvo, and New York monopolizes them; one of them, G. A., hailing from Watertown, and the other, J. H., Jr., from Catskill. The former is a Republican and the lat ter a Democrat. Baker. —There are two Bakers, J. H., from Goshen, Ind., and W. H., from Constantia, N. Y. Both of them are Republicans. Brown.—Taa t o Browns answer to the congressional roll-call. J. Y., from Hen derson, Kv., and W. R., from Hutchin son, Kan. The Kansas Brown is a Re publican, and J. Young Brown, of Ken tucky, is a fire-eating Democrat. Burchard. This not over-common name occurs as many times as Brown, viz., two. H. C. Burchard, from Free port, 111., a Republican, and S. D., Bea ver Dam, a Democrat. Caldwell. There are tAvo of this name. W. P., from Gardner, Tenn., and J. H., Jacksonville, Ala., both Dem ocrats. Cannon. —There are two Cannons in the Forty-fourth Congress. G. Q., of Salt Lake, Utah, Mormon and Dem ocratic notoriety, and J. G., of Tuscola, 111., a Republican. Clark. —Two Clarks Avill respond to the clerk’s call. J. C., from Augusta, Ky., and J. 8., Jr., from Fayette, Mo. Both are Democrats. Hamilton. There are tAvo of this nsime. A. IT., from Fort Wayne, Ind., and Robert from Newton, N. J. Both are Democrats. Hewitt. —There are two HeAvitts. A. 5., from New York City, and G. W., from Birmingham, Ala. Both are Dem ocrats. Jones. —Two Democrats named Jones sire in this congress; Frank, from Ports mouth, N. H., and T. L., from Newport, Ky. Landers. Tivo Democrats of this name also ansiver roll-call. G. M., from New Britian, Conn., and Franklin, from Indianapolis, Ind. Mackey. —Politics divide the Mack eys. E. W. M., of Charleston, S. C., being a Republican, and L. A., of Lock haven, Pa., a Democrat. Phillips. —There sire two Phillipses. W. A., of galina, Kan., is a Republican, and J. F., of Sedalia, Mo., si Democrat. Reilley. There are two Reilleys, and Pennsylvania has si monopoly of them ; John, hailing from Altoona, and J. 8., from Pottsville. Both are Dem ocrats. Robbins. —There are two Democrats Robbinses in congress. John, from Phil adelphia, Pa., and W. M., from States ville, N. C. Ross.—Two Rosses are divided politi callv. Miles Ross, of New Burnswiok, N. j., lieing a Democrat, and Sobieski, of Cowdersport, Pa., a Republican. Smith. —There are but tii r o Smiths. A. H., from Lancaster, Pa., a Republi can, and W. E., of Albany, Ga., a Dem ocrat. Townsend. —There are two Republi can M. C.’s of this name. Washington, of West Chester, Pa., and M. 1., of Trov, N. Y. Vance. —There are two Democrats of this name in the House. J. L., of Gal lipolis, Ohio, and R. 8., of River Side, N. C. Walker. —This name occurs the in evitable tAvo times. C. C. 8., hailing from Coning, N. Y., and G. C., from Richmond, Va. Both are Democrats. Wallace. —This name will sAvell the Republican roll tAvo votes. A. S. comes from Yorkville, S. C., and J. W., New Castle, Pa. Wilson. There are two Wilsons. Benjamin, who is a Democrat, from Wilsburg, W. Va., and James, a Re publican, from Trsier, lowa. Wood. —This figure 2 represents the number of Woodses in congress. Fer nando, of New York, a Democrat, and Allan Wood, Jr., of Conshohocken, Pa., a Republican. Finger Nails. —The nails of the hu man hand have a language of their OAvn, and the manner of keeping them is ekr quent. Some keep them long and point ed, like the reminiscences of claws ; oth ers bite theirs close to the quick ; some, pare and trim and scrape and polish up to the highest point of artificial beauty ; smd others, carrying out the doctrine of nature to the outside limit, let thorn groAv wild, Avith jagged edges, broken tracts, and agnails, or “ black friend ” as the agonizing consequences. Sometimes you see the most beautiful nsiils, pink, transparent, filbert-shaped, Avith the del icate, filmy, jlittle"“ half-moons” indicated at the base —all the conditiona of beauty c arried to perfection, but all rendered of no avail by dirt sind slovenliness, ivhile others, thick, Avhite-ribbed, square, Avith no half moon, spotted like so many cir cus horses with “ gifts ” and “friends” and the like—that is, without blemishes —are yet pleasant to look at for the care bestowed on them, their dainty perfec tion of cleanliness being a charm in it self. Nothing is more disgusting than dirty hands and neglected nails, as noth ing gives one such a sense of freshness and care as the well kept. The loud little man in gray stood on the dry goods box in the street, and, as he handed down a bottle of the pain killer to John Smith and took John’s quarter, he sang out in a rattling tone: “ And sold again ! And I love to say sold again! for whenever I say sold again! another quarter of a dollar drops into the treasury j VOL. 16-NO. 43. SAYINGS AND DOINGS. And thought shall be filled with burglars, And t hmrv* that infest the day Shall pack ap their traps like peddlers, And carry the spoous away. A Cleveland medical paper has never heard of such a being a3 a bald headed consumtive, it wants to know if there is a doctor anywhere who has. A man never knows what it is to feel alone in the world until he has grabbed at a nickel in a show-case window, and dis covered that it is fastened to the lower surface of the glass. Advertisement from a Washington paper: “Wanted, a well-rested youtn in my office. Preference given to one who has not forgotten more than his employer knows. Address,” &c. To hovels or palaces though we may come, the wretched musquito with hor rible hum, will sure lie in ambush and wait for us there, till sleep shuts our eyelids, and then take his fare. Hum! H-u-m? Buzz! B-u-z-z! When sleep shuts our eyelids he’ll sure hike hi* fare. Nothing is so discouraging to a young lawyer just as he waxes eloquent about angels’ tears, weeping willow and tomb stones as to be interrupted by the cold blooded justice, with, “ You’re off your nest, bub; this is a case of hog steal ing.” The Sultan of Turkey spent $750,000 not long ago, on fireworks and illumina tions, the occasion being his birthday an niversary. That is the way he spends his salary of $10,000,000 in gold, and has to borrow a good deal more besides for similar trifling expenses. “ Vell, you see my friendt I goes into peeziness mit anuder veller, und dot oder veller vurnish der capital und I vurnish der peeziness experience; und pretty soon, three—four years, dot pee ziness is voundt oop, und I got der capi tal undt dot oder veller got der expe rience.” A Sunday teacher was giving a lewin on Ruth. She wanted to bring out th kindness of Boaz in commanding the reapers to drop large handfuls of wheat. “Now, children,” she said, “Boaz did another very nice thing for Ruth; can you tell me what it was?” “ Married her!” said o'ue of the boys. A little Boston boy was sitting by a window, the other evening, looking at the stars as they came out, one by one. After gazing a few minutes he cried, “Oh! papa, papa! Look at God’s finger nail !” He referred to the moon, which was in the quarter and bad just appeared over the hill. There was a French singer with a tremendous voice, who could not dis cover what line in art he was best fitted for. He went to Cherubini, who told him to sing. He sang, and the founda tion trembled. “Well,” he said, when he had finished, “illustrious master, w r hat shall I become?” “An Auction eer,” said Cherubini. It w r ill be hardly necessary to tell the name of the facetious partv who went into a dry goods store the other day, and was observed to be looking about, when the proprietor remarked to him that they didn’t keep whisky. “It would save you a good many steps if you did,” was the quick reply. Jack Campbell, a famous negro, has ust died at Madison, Georgia, aged eighty years. His reputation as a broad humor ists extended throughout the state of Georgia and lasted for many years. He w r as a slave owned by an inn-keeper in Madison, and brought great prosperity to the establishment with which he was con nected. His name appears in the “sta tistics of Georgia” and “Major Jones’ Courtship,” and many of his jokes and witty sayings have appeared in the pub lications of the Harpers. It is reported that at one time Barnum offered the owner of Jack the sum of ten thousand dollars for him. “Sir,” asked an attorney yesterday of a witness who was testifying in a case of assault and battery; “have you ever been in this court before ?” “Yes, sir,” replied the witness. “I have been here often.” “ Ah, been here often, have you ?” said the attorney in a triumphant tone. “ Now, tell the court what for.” “Well,” replied the witness, slowly; “ I have been here at least a dozen times to see you trv and collect that tailor’s bill you owe.” A Philadelphia milliner apprentice went to visit her mother in the country last Sunday, and when that worthy ma tron beheld her child she exclaimed: “ Isabel Marie Stephens, what on ai rth do you mean, coming out in broad day light with your gown all kajummuxed up in a heap behind ye, and all bound up in that way in front of ye? And hain’t ye got no stockings all of one color, that ye haf to wear them zebra-colored things? Thought ye was goin’ to be a milliner. Sh’d think ye’d married a barl>er, and was playing up signboard for him. Did I ever think one of mv girls would come to this P* Sleep tor The Age. —Dr. John Gard ner. an eminent English physician and author, says that this new method of procuring sleep at will is worthy of the notice and adoption of all elderly people. Its principle may be stated generally as demanding an easy posture of the body in bed, and a determined direction of the thoughts to some subject as remote as possible from the ordinary and habitual currents, or one which can be enter tained without the least admixture of emotions of a disagreeable character. Happy and calm will be the sleep of those who, on their pillow, can muse on the consolations of tne gospel, and resign themselves implicitly ana without wa vering into the keeping of a heavenly protector and father. Cream Cheese —Take of sour milk curd, one quart; thick rich cream, one do.; fine salt, one tablespoonful; nap kins, eight; large soup-plates, four. Pro cess: Drain the curd to the consistency of soft butter; add the cream, and beat well until thouroughly mixed; then add the salt, fold a napkin in four folds, and lay it in one of the plates, into which pour the cream; then fold another nap kin, and lay it on top; these are to dram the whey off freely. The mixture should make three or four plates ; set the plates in a cool place for twenty-four hours; change the napkins and plates every four or five days, whfcti the eheesti Will be fit fet use;