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. IttSCHALK \ ... W. A. tt AK'IHALK,/ *.aitors and Proprietors. THE TWO SONGS. W hon loyc n as you Mg, at brightening morn, W liile high above tiie yellow corn, i hr aiatl lark shrilled, to her whose eyes emed homes of radiant ecstacies I sang. The glory of the time Kang through the notes and ruled the rhyme The rapture of the unkissed rose, \\ hen bod-bound petals first unclose, Spake from my lips, ail re front those t\ hose sweetness Shrilled my spirit through, Api the song’s jubilant music knew )• >'s inipulse in each soaring strain, ! u h (adenea low, eac h glad refrain. 1 tuniod. Those eyes looked praise, and yet Some shade of fear or faint regret, Like a thin cloud o’er sunlit stream, Hovered a moment and was gone. Ah! is it that dawn’s daring dream Each soul must shape alone? Sweet the cares that guerdon gave 1 or that glad song! can shadows start Beneath joy’s sim, or passion crave Yet closer clasp than heart to heart? The o'.Yht was young, the night-bird’s trill shook softlier than a far-heard lute From that gray copse beneath the hill, And then was mute! Her head clasped close abov > my heart, I „ang—for that the words would start From laden lips—a song as low As spring’s first streamlet’s timid flow ; Low, vet as happv a- the tears Which fall unchecked from shining eyes, When hope, outlasting sundering years, Attains its paradise. Whispers of trees, when storms have fled, Hear such sweet burden; odors shed By rain-washed roses through the night Breathe such sereiuj and sure delight As this my song. I might not see Her eyes in that leaf-cumbered place, But closeer drew her tender face, And pressed her heart to me. And through the silence and the dark; There came a glad ness that the lark Hath not a song for. Love that lives Through sorrow such deliverance gives From fear, its shadow may not start To chill the clasp of heart to heart. POPULAR SCIENCE. Ifals and Their Vouiig-.Some Farts Tot Generally Known. The October number of the Popular Science Monthly contains an article by Prof. Burt Cf. Wilder entitled “hats and their young.” Beginning his essay by remarking that all parts of the world ex cepting the colder regions are inhabited by bats; that there are many kinds of bats; that they often occur in very large numbers, and that there are very few persons, young or old, who have not seen a bat, the writer adds: “ Yet, aside from professed naturalists, it is equally prob able that there are still fewer who, from direct observation, could give any accu rate description of their appearance, their habits, their structure of their relations with the ‘birds of the air’ or the ‘beasts of the earth,’ to both of which bats bear more or less resemblance.” Prof. Wilder thinks that this is not strange, “ for bats pass the day in caves and deserted build ings, and fly about in pursuit of prey only in the twilight. Much less rapid than that of birds, their flight is so irre gular as to render it difficult to follow their course, and in the dusk they are often mistaken for somewhat eccentric members of the swallow family.” The very aspect of bats, we are told, is repul sive; they often emit an unpleasant odor; they breed vermin, which they often leave behind them in houses; they bite fiercely when they are captured, having sharp, “almost needle-like” eye-teeth. Bats have rarely been domesticated, there being on record only two instances of the taming of bats. Prof. Wilder c-auglit one when he was a hoy, and he gives the following account of his somewhat dis agreeable pet: “One of our common bats (probably cither the ‘little brown hat,’ Vespertilio mbulatus, or the ‘little red hat,’j flew into the house one evening and was caught under a hat. It queaked and snapped its little jaws so viciously that all efforts toward closer acquaintance were posponed until morning. “ When uncovered the next day it seemed as fierce as before, but less active in its movements, probably overpowered hv the glare of daylight. When touched its jaws opened wide, the sharp teeth were exposed, and from its little throat came the sharp steely clicks so character istic of our hats. Nor did this fierce demeanor soften in the least during the day, and when night approached I was about to let it go, but the sight of a big fly on the window suggested an attempt to feed the captive. Held by the wings between the points of a pair of forceps, the fly had no sooner touched the bat’s nose than it was seized, crunched and swallowed. The rapidity of its disap pearance accorded with the width to which the eater’s jaws were opened to receive it, and, but for the dismal crack ling of skin and wings, reminded one of the sudden engulfment of beetles by a hungry young robbin. “ A second fiy went the same road. The third was more deliberately mastic ated, and I ventured to pat the de vourer’s head. Instantly all was changed. The jaws gaped as if they would separ ate, the crushed fly dropped from the tongue, and the well-known clicks pro claimed a hatered and defiance which hunger could not subdue nor food ap pease. So at least it seemed, and I think any but a boy naturalist would have yielded to the temptation to fling the spiteful creature out of the window. Perhaps, too, a certain obstinacy made me unwilling to so easily relinquish the newly-formed hope of domesticating a bat. At any rate, another fly presented, and, like the former, dropped the mo ment m v fingers touched the head of the bat. With a third I waited until the bat seemed to be actually swallowing, and unable to either discontinue that pro cess or open its mouth to any extent. “ Its rage and pexplexitv were comical to behold, and, when the flv was really down, it seemed to almost burst with the effort to express its indignation. But this did not prevent it from falling into the same trap again; and, to make a long 'lory short, it finally learned by expe rience that while chewing and swallow ing were more or less interrupted by snapping at me, both operations were quite compatible with my gentle stroking of its head. And even a bat has brains enough to see the foolishness of loosing a dinner in order to resent an unsolicited kindness. “In a few days the bat would take flies from my fingers; although, either from eagerness or because blinded by the light, it too often nipped me sharply in its efforts to seize the victim. “Its vorasity was almost incredible. For several weeks it devoured at least fifty house-flies in a day (it was vacation, and my playmates had to assist me), and °nce disposed of eighty between day break and sunset. ‘ This bat i kept for more than two months. It would shuffle across the table when I entered the room, and lift up its head for the expected fly. When traveling it was carried in my breast pocket. In the fall it died, either from over eating or lack of exercise, for I dared not let it out of doors, and it was so apt to injure itself in the rooms that I seldom allowed it to fly. “I should add that it drank frequently and greedily from the tip of a camel’s hair pencil. “It must he admitted,” the writer says, “that most hats are ‘uncanny’in respect and unfriendly in disposition while the legends of blood-thirsty vam oircs have only too much foundation in fact. But it is only fair to them (the >at family ) to admit that the number of species which thus injure men and the larger animals is very small; and that while all of our own bats, and most of those ot other lands, are fierce devourers of insects, and use their sharp teeth for defense against their captors, there are many kinds, especially the larger (Bous settes, etc.), which live almost wholly upon fruits, and are moreover, quite good eating themselves. So there should be made a distinction between the ven omous and the harmless serpents and the more and the less poisonous spiders. Perhaps one element of distrust of the bat family arises from their appar ent nonconformity to either of the com mon animal types. The bat seems to be either a bird with hair and teeth, bring ing forth its young alive, or a mammal with wings and the general aspect of a bird. Add to these exceptional features that their attitude, when at rest, is al ways head downward, and that their legs are so turned outward as to bring the knees behind instead of in front, and we may almost pardon the common dislike of the whole family of hats. “Me may as well state at once that a bat is really a mammal —that is, it agrees with moles, rats, sheep, horses, eats, monkeys and men in bringing forth its young alive, and nursing them by milk; in having red blood-corpuscles, which contain no nucleus; in being clothed with hair, and in possessing a corpus callosum— that is, a band of fibres connecting the two cerebral hemispheres. “There are other anatomical features which link the bats closely with the moles and shrews and hedge-hogs. In deed, the bat might he described a flying mole, or the mole as a burrowing hat. “Twenty years ago oik; of these phrases might have been as acceptable as the other ; for they would have implied only an ideal connection between the forms. But now, when the idea of an actual evo lution or derivation of widely different forms from one another, or from common stocks, is rapidly becoming the funda mental postulate of all biological re search, avc are hound to inquire whether one mode of expression is not much more likelv to he true than the other.” HUMAN SACRIFICES IN AFRICA. A Custom ihat Isas Long Prcvailert suit! Resists all Efforts to Abolish it. A correspondent of the London Times gives the follotving vivid description of the scenes which attend the death of a “ Caboceer,” or man ©f rank, in Ashan tee: Well, immediately after demise, the body of a Caboceer is washed, anointed with SAA’eet oils and grease, and sprinkled Avith gold dust. The oils and grease cause the gold dust to stick to the corpse, Avhich, being black, throws off the bright color of the gold to perfec tion. The heard is trimmed into knots, and upon each knot are tied small heads of glass and thin particles of gold. The Ashantees, you perceive, are as dainty in the decoration of the beards of their dead as the Assyrian dandies A\ r ere of their own Avhen living. In cloth of costly silk-embroidered damask, or in velvet or in other rich garments, the body is dressed and ornamented Avith armlets and necklaces of gold and silver. Very often pure lumps or unwrought nuggets of gold, bored through and through, are strung upon a piece of hempen string and tAvisted around the forearms in the form of bracelets. Thus gayly bedizened and perfumed and cleansed, the body is placed upon a chair in a sitting attitude or is shown recum bent upon a bed trimmed Avith gaudy -drapery. When this combined rite of purification and garniture has been com pleted the relations and friends assemble and begin to dance and sing. While the relations and friends are making merry a fetishman or priest is led sloAvly into the midest of the festive throng, and the female slaves of the dead Cabo ceer are brought before him. After the utterance of various incantations he pre tends that the fetish has denoted, by means of his mediation, a certain slave for election to folloAV her master to the next Avorld; but I need not he at much to suggest to you that the members of the family always decide beforehand among themselves Avhich unfortunate Avretch shall accompany the deceased chief. Being chosen, and by the choice con demned to die, the slave is stripped naked. Around her neck a wisp of hay is wound, and her arms are rudely pin ioned with a rope of straw. She is now roughly dragged a second time to the presence of the fetishman, who recom mends her, in a speech full of blasp hemous rhodomontades and rhetorical parade, to serve her master dutifully through the mazes of the unknown sphere to which he has been summoned on a journey. During the delivery of the portentous exhortation he is busily employed in daubing a white-colored earth over the face of the weeping slave ; and, when the admonitory harangue lias been exhausted, he strikes her severely with his open palm upon either cheek. In benighted zeal the company snatch up the sacerdotal cue’ They strive to rival one another in repeating the as sault with the harshest violence, and in dealing the keenest pain on her nude and trembling person. Having been removed by dint of cuffs or manual force from the sight of the fetishman the slave is hurried to a wood en box, into which the carcase of the Caboceer will eventually be squeezed. Along the lid of the box the slave is stretched upon her stomach, and her feet and her head are grasped by two executioners, so that her struggles may he subject t< control. A friend of the dead Caboceer approaches the prost rate creature and slashes her with a sword just below the right shoulder-blade CARTEHSVILLE, GEORGIA, MONDAY EVENING, OCTOBER 25. 1875. Catching the blood which Aoaa’s from the wound, he smears the box. When a sufficiency of blood has been drawn for the purpose, she is lifted from the lid and is reviled, struck and covered Avith spittle by the bystanders, All the while she utters the loudest and most grie\ T ous lamentations; and the louder and more grievous they a.re, the more acceptable do the torturers deem the sacrificed gratuity to the dead Caboceer. She is then driven to the spot where she is to Ik 1 slain. M hen the head has been cut off the heart is plucked out through, an opening in the hack. An executioner receives the head with yells and frantic signs of joy, and runs Avith it through the town. Savagely and furiously he tosses it to the ground and kicks it* like a hall before him, snatches it up in his flight, spits on it, flings it into the air, catches it in its descent, or, permitting it to drop heavily, kicks it again and again. The body is never buried, hut it is spurned aside to he eaten by Avild beasts or vultures. A Reverie of the Pacific. The folloAving reverie on vieAving the Pacific Ocean is taken from Miss Wepp ner’s charming hook of travel, “The Northern Star and Southern Cross,” and is scarcely equaled in literature for elegance of diction and impressiveness of thought. As one reads it, the vast mys tic realm opens before him, and the majesty and peace of eternity symbolized by the Pacific Ocean,spread out in broad and limitless expanse before his inner vision, subduing and soothing his spirit by the overpoAvering excellencies and match less beauties the Infinite lias provided: “ Our path the Pacific Avas a very soli tary one; for twenty-four days avc sighted neither steamer nor sailing ves sel. We passed the Sandwich Islands at a distance of 500 miles to the south. On our third day avc lost a Chinaman, avlio, in opium delirium, had jumped over board. He Avas long searched for, hut not picked, up; it is supposed that he Avas crushed by the paddle-wheels. On fine days ‘Afat’ used to make one com fortable on deck in an easy arm-chair, and I indulged in my persistent re\-erics. The mystery of life is apt to strike one very forcibly on the solitary Pacific Ocean, and should any one be desirous of getting at the real depth and certitude of the accepted philosophic data of the present day, I can recommend him no better school than twenty-four days across this ocean. He will feel very small and he inclined to come to the con clusion that he knoAvs very little about anything, and least of aT about himself. “The shining firmament, rocking itself in the bosom of the deep, the glorious orb of the day taming the impetuous Neptune Avith his ardent rays, the thou sand golden beams Avith which the atmos phere is strianed; the dazzling Avhite and foaming ocean unknown and awe-inspir ing in its unfathomable depths. Thinker, let thy mind Avander to the heavens, to the innumerable worlds, Avhich gem-like, occupy tlie infinity of space ; look at the roaring seas, and Avhat spheres of thought are opened out to thee ! Search and fathom as thou may est, plunge thy mind in the deepest depths of infinity and then come hack and tell me what thou hast found; tell me what thou art and Avho I am! “ Solve tlie riddle of thy existence; explain to me the mysteries of the heav ens, the AA'orlds and the seas! Tell me Avhat life is, and death, and eternity ! “ Thou returnest from thy dreamy realms of thought, thou mighty thinker, and tellest me nothing! Poor, helpless philosopher, Avliere is thy genius ? Thou knoAvest so much, and yet so little—less than nothing, a thousand nothings ! “ Try again, thou great and self-suffi cient reasoner; rack thy brain once more. Take tlie mystery of thy life along with thee ? Death Avill come to thy aid; he solves the riddle—only he. “ As for me, I forbear to wander into the dark, impenetrable realms of specu lative thought, and to expose myself to useless torture. I seek to spy out nothing — to fathom nothing. I av i 11 be a philos opher in my own way ; I Avill he happy. Such a glorious heaven above, the Avhole creation full of wonders! Let Avhat is noAV mystery he mystery ; they all will he revealed to me in God’s own time. Then I shall knoAv who I am, and why now I am here ; and I shall find what the greatest thinkers of the earth have ever been in search of, but have never found, and never Avill ! Satisfied Avitli this beautiful Avorld, and with my faith in God, and the love for duty in my heart, I am the happiest of mortals, am happy everywhere. “ They heave and toss again, the Avild billows of the ocean, until sea and clouds and sky lovingly embrace each other. And the sun, Avhile taming Neptune, has lulled him to sleep. He shines deeper and still deeper into the aAvful abyss, as if he AA'ould disclose to my eyes its hidden treasures! I follow the golden orb, and amongst innumerable Avonders and ter rors Ave search a mournful and a sacred spot. Here slumber the millions of souls that the sea in its fury has SAvalloAved in its bosom. “ Shine on, fair sun, and smile for once upon the dead. Send a ray of light into the mansions of the departed. “ Sleep peacefully yet a little Avhile in your ocean beds, my dear brothers and sisters, until the creator awakes you.” Pretty Speeches. To be able readily, and without pre meditation, to say the right thing is an enviable gift still, and may be made a wonderful instrument of conciliation and pacification. The worst of it is that persons possessing the power of repartee are apt to make a hostile rather than an amicable use of it; and, indeed, most of us covet it rather as a whip to sting with than a feather to tickle. Caustic speeches are sure to draw, and the most amiable people, who would not them selves hurt their friends’ feelings on any account, chuckle over them .as much as others. Therefore they are continually chronicled, but pretty speeches lack the same pungency, and are passed by as in sipid; yet I think there is a line savor about one or two that I remember—that said by George the fourth to the officer of marines, for example. It may be fa miliar to you, but will really bear repe tition. There was an empty bottle on the table, and the king told the servant to “take away that marine.” A guest sit ting next to the king whispered in his ear that an officer present belonged to that branch of the service. George the fourth ascertained his name, and then, addressing him aloud, asked if he knetv why an empty bottle Avas called a ma rine. “No, your majesty,” replied the officer. “Because,” said the king, “it has done its duty, and is ready to do it again.” Which was a neat way of get ting out of a rather awkward phrase as one can avcll imagine. Ladies, however, are the fair and proper recipients of pretty speeches, and the man avlio gets them is a sort of poacher. The Due de Nivernois made an ingenious one to Madame du Barri. who avus endeavoring to persuade him to withdraw his opposi tion to some measure she had set her heart on. “It is no use, Monsieur le Due,” she said, “you are only injuring vour influence, for the king has made up his mind, and I have nnself heard him sav that he Avill never change.” “Ah, madame, he avus looking at you,” replied the duke. Could any hut a Frenchman have ever conveyed determined resistance in so polite a farm? There Avas an inge nious amount of devotion implied in the remark of a loA'e-sick millionaire, Avhen the object of liisaffectionsbecam eecstatic over the beauty ot the evening star. “Oh, do not, do not praise it like that!” he cried, “I cannot get it for you.” It is no Avonder that Tom Moore was ever such a general favorite, if he often said such charming little things as he Avrote. I think the very prettiest, quaintest quip ever penned is in one of liis love-songs. The lover can not deny that he has paid to others homage before he suav the pre sent object of his affections; in fact, he learned lip-service very early. “That lesson of sweet and enraptured lore I have never forgot, I’ll allow: I h:iA'e had by rote very often before, But neA’cr by heart until now.” Irishmen generally do manage to say prettier things than others can. They have a certain confidence or assurance Avhich enables them to blurt out what ever comes uppermost in his mind; that is Avhy they make hulls. A man who is ahvays shooting must miss sometimes. The more cautious Englishman or Scotch man escapes the blunders, but scores fewer hits, and does not often marry an heiress, I believe.— Cassell’s Magazine. An Old French Relic, While demolishing an old house at Montematre, and clearing the site for the church of the Sacred Heart, the workmen made an interesting discovery; they found that the Avainseotiug of one of the rooms Avas composed of Avood elegantly carved and gilded. The vari ous pieces Avhen put together shoAved that it Avas an old royal coach whose panels had been used “to stop a hole to keep the wind away.” There is no know ing lioav this relic of the ancient-regime came to be used for building purpose; the probability is that some Brutus or Aristides of the revolution of ’93 seized the royal equipage, and contemptuously used the materials Avherewith to con struct a dwelling. It may have been the coach into Avhich Louis XVI. told Lord Star to step; Mdme. de Pompadour may have ridden in it; it may have served at the Avedding of Marie Antonette, or have conveyed Louis XVI. to the scaf fold. The panels are said to prove that the coach Avas very old, hut it could not Avell have been built before the fifteenth century; for in 1404 the only suspended coach which existed belonged to Queen Isabella; and under Francis I there Avcre only three, one of Avhich belonged to the Queen, another to Diana, of Poicters, and the third to Jean de Laval. Ac cording to Delaure, there Avere a great many coaches in Paris in 1563, and the parliament petitioned the king to pro hibit them, as they took up the Avhole street and splashed ladies and gentlemen riding to court. ToAvard the end of the reign of Henry IV. Bassompierre had a carriage built Avith doors and Avindows.— Paris Letter to Pall Mall Gazette. Lime Water for Burns.—A corre spondent Avrites that the readiest and most useful remedy for scalds and burns is an embrocation of lime water and linseed oil. These simple agents com bined form a thick, cream-like substance, which effectually excludes the air from the injured parts and allays the inflam matioj almost instantly. He mentions a case Avhere a child fell hackAvard into a bath-tub of boiling Avater, and Avas nearly flayed from her neck to below her hips. Her agonies Avere indescribable; but her clothing being gently removed, and the lime and oil preparation thickly spread over the injured surface, she Avas sound asleep in five minutes. Subsequently, the parts Avere carefully Avashcd Avith Avarm milk and Avater three times a day, the oil dressing renewed, and the little patient rapidly recovered. Though all the scalded skin came off, she did not have a scar. This remedy leaA r es no hard coat to dry on the sores, but softens the parts, and aids nature to repair the in jury in the readiest and most expeditious manner. This mixture may be pro cured in the drug stores; but if not thus accessible, slack a lump of quick lime in Avater, and as soon as the Avater is clear, mix it Avith the oil and shake it well.. If the case is urgent, use boiling water over the lime, and it Avill become clear in five minutes. The preparation may be kept ready bottled in the house, and it will he as good six months old as Avhen first made.— American Farm Jour nal. —A little Idaho three-year-old fell into a well, where tlie water was only six inches deep, and remained there six hours belore he was discovered. When he was finally rescued his pent-up wrath knew no bounds. There was no crying about it, but such a volley of invt 'tiv-p* fell upon the heads of neglectful parents as never before fell from childish lip-. Here is a sample: “ You fink I kan tay in a well, wifout nuffin to eat, like a f’og. ’F I wasn’t no better ladder ’n muuder ’n ’ou I’d do wifout children ! ” —At a city market the other day, a pale-faced, solemn man took off his hat, smoothed back his hair, and said: “My friends, we know not how soon we may fall by the wayside. We stand here to day—next week we may sleep with the dead. I feel that I have only a few more days to stay, and I wish someone would lend me fifteen cents so that I can get a dish of baked beans.” The crowd at once moved away. One of the most important, but one of the most difficult things for a powerful mind, is to l>e its own master. A pond may lay quiet in a plain, but a lake wants mountains to compass and hold it in. HOW TO GOVERN OUR CITIES. T3io Awful Rnrdrn of I>obt they have I*sled l’p— The Recent Enormous Increase. From tlie Chicago Tribune. Mr. William M. Grosvenor of St. Louis has been making a recent investi gation into the municipal indebtedness of this country. His search demon strates that Mr. Blaine has rather under stated than overstated the”' libel debts of of the country in the exhibit which he made about a year ago, and which at tracted so much attention at the time. Mr. Blaine estimated the aggregate municipal indebtedness, near the close of last year, at $570,000,000. This showed an enormous increase Avith in four years, since the census of 1870 seated the municipal debts (exclusive of state and country) to he $328,244,520. But later investigations, covering a period of five years, shoAV that Mr. Blaine’s estimate Avas a loav one. A recent number of the Financial Chronicle gave a list of city securities, Avhich showed that the bonds of only thirty-tAVO cities in the country (exclusive of their floating indebtedness) amount $525,632,728, or nearly as much as Mr. Blaine’s estimate of the gross municipal indebtedness. But the last annual reports of Massachusetts show that the cities in that state alone, be sides those included t in the thirty-two Cities cited above, oAvn $36,914,634. In Ohio, the reports slioav that the cities of that state, outside of the cities included in the Financial Chronicle’s statement, oaa'c $8,909,714. Thus the bonded debt of the thirty-two cities, and the cities of only tAvo states among all those not in cluded in that list, amounts to $571,457,- 076, or a larger sum than Mr. Blaine estimated for the Avhole country. A comparison of the census statement shows that these cities OAved less than tAvo thirds of the total municipal’indebted ness of that time. Assuming that this ratio remains the same, the present showing Avould make the aggregate municipal indebtedness $856,185,614. This is a higher rate than even Mr. Grosvenor is Avilling to accept. He therefore makes a propper allowance for a smaller ratio of increase in the cities Avhere statements are not made. The in crease in the thirty-tAvo cities betAveen 1870 and 1875 Avas 160 per cent. The increase of the Massachusetts cities not included in the list of thirty-two is 130 per cent. The increase of the Ohio cities has been 290 per cent. The average in crease in the two states has been more than 160 per cent. It is entirely within hounds to assume that the increase in the other cities of the country lias been 70 per cent, or less than half of the average increase in the states of Massa chusetts and Ohio. Upon this basis, the aggregate municipal indebtedness of the country at this time amounts to $758,- 000,000, or nearly $200,000,000 more that Mr. Blaine estimated. Ncav York furnished a proof that the estimated increase of 70 per cent, is en tirely reasonable. From a statement furnished recently by governor Tilden, it appears that the municipal debts of that state outside of New York city, Brook lyn, and Albany, have increased 119 per cent, in less than two years. It should be stated, however, that the thirty-two cities Avhich have a total bonded indebt edness of $525,632,728 have sinking funds that amount to $62,413,953. Deducting this, the net indebtedness in these cities, and those of Ncav York, Massachusetts, and Ohio not included in that list, is $551,684,533. Add to this the debt of the other cities in the country, upon the estimated increase of 70 per cent, since 1870, and the net municipal indebtedness of the country, after deducting resources, is still $706,672,407. In an article Avhich avc printed a few Aveeks ago, Ave dreAv a comparison between the municipal indebtedness of this coun try and that of Great Britain. This comparison may noAv be extended still further. The average municipal indebt edness of tAventy English cities smaller than London is about S3O per capita. But the minor American cities, Avith about the same population as these tAventy English cities, OAve about $92 per capita. The contrast is presented in still another form. The report of the local govern ment board in Great Britain slioaa's that, deducting the British national debt, there is a total local indebtedness of $360,000,000, or about sll per capita. Take the same local indebtedness in this country, including e\ T erything except the national debt, and Ave have: State debts $382,970,617 County debts 180,000,000 Municipal debts 769,000,000 Total $1,331,970,517 This is a local indebtedness of about S3O per capita for all the people in this country, or about three times as great as the local indebtedness per capita in Great Britain. The strain in this country is still more notable when we count the in terest paid. The interest on the local in debtedness probably averages 7 percent., which would make it $93,000,000 annu ally, while the interest on the British local indebtedness does not exceed $15,- 000,000 a year; so that, while the interest on our national indebtedness is more than $20,000,000 less than Great Britain pays on its national debt, the total in terest we pay every year on all debts is from $40,000,000 to $50,000,000 more than Great Britain pays on its total in debtedness. The statement of local indebtedness does not fully set forth the full measure of recklessness and extravagance that char acterize our municipal governments; for, notwithstanding the startling increase of local indebtedness, taxation has likewise increased at a frightful rate. A state ment of fifteen cities, (New York, Phila delphia, Boston, Brooklyn, St. Louis, Chicago, Cincinnati, Jersey City, Louis ville, Newark, Cleveland, San Francisco, Providence, Albany Milwaukee) shows that the taxable valuation of property has increased nearly $1,000,000,000in the last five years, and the tax levy in those cities, which was $64,000,000 in 1869-70, was $97,500,000 in 1874—’5. It only re mains to be stated, that in not one of those cities was the debt reduced within the time mentioned, so that the increase of taxation was devoted, aside from the payment of interest on the bonded debt, to the payment of current expenses and local improvements. In 1870, the whole sum raised by state, county and munici pal taxes was about $280,000,000, and the most careful estimate now places the rev enue exacted from' the same sources at $363,000,000 annually. This is over and above the increase of debt. Deducting the state taxes, the country and munici pal governments raise $295,000,000 a year, and have added $430,000,060 to their indebtedness Avithin five years. Ac cording to this, our local government really costs, in taxes and increased debt, $380,000,000 annually, or more than the entire annual revenue of Great Britain for all purposes, which is $376,000,000. We commend this exhibit to the earn est consideration of our readers, as pre senting the most serious problem ol pop ular government. CALIFORNIA CUSTOMS. How a Tuttletown Man Got a Seal in a Coach. The stage coach from Milton Avas about to leave Tuttletown after changing horses. Every seat, both inside and out, was full, xccpt one, Avhich Avas occupied by a tourist wrapped in his supercilious dig nity and a heavy linen duster. A resi dent of TuttletoAvn, wishing to ride to Sonora, approached the stage and in quired for a seat. “ All full inside,” growled the tourist, spreading himself to the full extent of his dignity and duster. “ But you are occupying tAvo seats,” argued the man from Jackass Hill. “ I ain’t going to be croAvded; I pay for my comfort and intend to keep it.” “ Did you pay for tAvo seats?” “ I’ve only secured one seat, but there is no room for another in this coach, sir,” and the tourist settled himself back, Avhile the other passengers grunted their disgust in tones not particularly vocifer ous but exceedingly deep. “ You are not acting as a gentleman should, sir, nor exactly in accordance Avith the etiquette of our rude California society,” calmly replied the man on the outside, smiling in spiteof his annoyance at the dog-in-the-manger style of this boor. “ I don’t hold myself accountable to the society of California. I pay my way and ask odds of nobody, and your in ference that I am not a gentleman might he termed where I came from an indica tion that you Avisli to fight.” “We don’t fight in this country,” calmly replied the man from Tuttle town. “ You don’t. Then I must have been misinformed. Pray, Avhat do you do Avhen a man insults you ?” and a sort of triumph gleamed in the eye of the stranger. “ Do, why Ave shoot him on the spot and that is the end of it. We don’t waste time after avc start in. By the way, I think I can squeeze in alongside of you there, can’t I?” “Don’t knoAv but you can,” and a full half seat appeared beside the dignified fool, as if by magic. The Tuttletown citizen rode \'ery com fortably from that lnimlet to Sonora, and heard no more about fighting from the tourist, although remarks in regard to “ dead shots ” and the rapidity Avith which insults are avenged in the Sierras formed the staple of conversation among the other passengers until they reached the city hotel. —A boy thus describes his misdeeds and their punishments: My sister Em has got a feller avlio has been coming to see her e\ r ery night for some time. Night before last, just to have a little fun, I Avent into the parlor and era av led under the sofa on the sly and waited until he got settled, and just as he was asking her —if she was Avilling—to become his dear partner for life, and trust to his strong right arm for support and protection, I gave three red-hot Indian Avar-Avhoops and fired off an old horsey-pistol that I had borrowed of Sam Johnson, and, my gracious, lioav that felloAV jumped up and scooted for the door! He never stopped to get his hat, hut tumbled head over heels doAvn the door-steps. As for Em, she just squatted right clown on the floor and screeched like blue blazes till dad and mother came running it Avith nothing on but their night-clothes and Avanted to know what the matter Avas. But Em only yelled the louder, and kept pointing under the sofa till dad got down on his knees and suav me there, and pulled me out by my hind leg. When he got me out to the wood-shed he wrapped me over his knee and Avent at me with an old trunk strap, and I’ve not got over it nicely vet. The Drama in the Olden Time. About twenty nobles (thirty-five dol lars) seem to have been the price of a copyright of a play. The printed play was sold for sixpence, and the usual pres ent of a patron for a dedication was ten dollars. Dramatic poets had free ad mission to the theaters. Every play had to be licensed by the master of the revels previous to it being performed. It was usual to carry “ table-books” to the the ater, to note down the passages which were made matter of censure or applause. This may account for some multilated copies of Shakspeare’s works, which are still extant. The custom of “ damning ” a play on its first performance is at least as ancient as that great author. No less than three plays of Ben Johnson suffered that fate. Before the performance com menced, and between the acts, the au dience amused themselves in various ways, reading, playing at cards, drinking ale and smoking tobacco. Refreshments were supplied by attendants, who cried the commodities with as much noise as our modern tradesfolk. In 1633 women smoked tobacco in the theater as well as men. Rich spectators were allowed to sit on the stage. Here the fastidious critic was usually to be met with ; the wit, ambitious of distinction; and the gallant, studious his person and fine clothes. Seated, or reclining on the rushes of the floor, regaled themselves with pipes and tobacco, pro vided by their pages. The ease of their situation, or their impertinence, excited the disgust of the poorer class in the pit, who frequentiy hooted, hissed, and threw dirt on the stage coxcombs; but the gal lants displayed their “high breeding” by an utter disregard of their behavior. The audience, too, often vented their ill-nature on the players. In city houses one cannot be too care ful to stop the drains of the wash-basins and close the doors of wash-closets during the night, for many a fever is generated from the drain-pipe of a wash-basin. In country houses care should lx? taken to have no foul water standing in bed-rooms, as it soon gains the quality of umfliole someness. VOL. 16--NO. 44 SAYINGS AND DOINGS. —Why He Sighed. I do not mourn, sweet wife of mine, Because those ruby lips of thine— Shat marble brow— Were kissed by one who might have been, llad I not chanced to step between, Thy husband now. I do not grieve l>eenuse thy heart. Ere Cupid touched it with my dart, For him would beat; Nor that the hand which owns my ring Once more his gift, a ‘‘Mizpah” thing— It was but meet. I sigh not that his arms were placed Some score of times around your waist. So sweet anti slim. Ah no, my love! the woe you see Is mine because vou wedded me Instead of him. Thoughtfulness for others, generos ity. modesty, and sulf-respect tire the qualities which make a real gentleman or lady, as distinguished from the veneered article which commonly gives by that name. A little while the roses bloom. A little while the soft winds blow, A little while the baby laughed. A little while—from bud to snow. But after all the rose is sweet. And after all the winds have blown And after all the bahy blessed, And after all it is our own. If in our thought the rose remains, And winds art* sweet in memory, Why should not then the l>aby gone Forever Ik' a belie to me? —October Atlantic. It is true that we are continually in spired, and that we do not lead a gracious life, except so far as we act under tie's interior inspiration. But how few feel it! how few are they who do not annihi late-it by their voluntary destructions or by their resistance! He who has once believed that life has an aim and a meaning, and who has given up that belief for the conviction that life is simply a misfortune without aim or meaning, has made but a sorry exchange, even though he may have the gratification of boasting that he is at one with the great thinkers of his age. When the last rose of summer, Is failed and gone, And the blue bottle hummer Lies dead as a stone; When the mudbugs and stingers Take umbrage and go; Oh, tell us, why lingers This wild mus qui to? There is a young woman of Lynn Grown up so excessively thin. When she wears her pull-back She seems all flesh to lack, And her bonnet seems stuck on a pin. On the walk a hat did lie And a gallant chap sailed by, And he cut a lively swell— He was a clerk to a hotel; And he gave that hat a kick, And he came across a brick— Now upon a crutch he goes, Minus half a pound of toes. They are my friends, Who are most mine, And I most theirs When common cares Give room to thoughts poetic and divine, And in a psalm of love all nature bends. Mrs. Dobbs, of Providence, says she made her lazv dead-and-alive husband move to a lively measure for once in his life. She placed a still* hair-brush in a shaded spot in the bed-room, so that he stepped on it with his bare foot. Song of the festive Granger, heard in the corn field: Fodder, ile-.r fodder, come home with me now. Brave Col. Nash seorned brandy smash, and good old gin was all two thin; but the tempting bait of a whisky straight revived his soul with the flow ing bowl. Alas for man, whert corn-juice ran ! Then comes the dregs, and tangled legs, and nodding posts, and grinning ghosts, ghosts dressed in blue, “ I came for you”—and the pleasant “ smile” ends in durance vile. Warren Hastings’ elephant, which is a hundred years old, is being fed up to be ridden by the Prince of Wales when he visits Lucknow, India. This makes the elephant swing his trnnk in the air and wag his valise, as he did in childhood’s happy hours. Napoleon’s Willow. Ex-president Johnson, during his life, received a twig taken from the willow which bends over the grave of Napoleon Bonaparte, on St. Helena, which he planted in the garden of his late resi dence, and which has now grown to a stately tree. A twig from this tree will be planted over the grave of Mr. John son, on Johnson’s Hill. A quarter of a century ago one fre quently heard a grand song which had been written with Napoleon and that St. Helena willow as the text. Like hun hreds of others, with a hundred times more merit, it has been nearly forgotten. We will quote some of the verses from memory: On the lone barren Isle, where the loud roaring billow Assails the stem rock and the fierce temp est raves, The hero lies still, and the dew-dropping willow, Like a fond weeping mourner, leans over his grave. Though tempests may rave, And the hoarse cannon rattle, lie heeds not, he hears not, He’s free from all pain, He sleeps his last sleep, He has fought his last battle, No sound can awake him To glory again. Oh, shade of the mighty—where now arc thy legions, That rushed but to conquer when thou led’st them on ? Alas! they have perished in far distant re gions, And all save the fame of their triumph is gone. Though tempests may rave, etc. Yet, spirit immortal, the tomb cannot bind thee, But, like thine own eagle that soared to the sun, Thy soul springs from bondage, and :hus leaves behind thee A name which, before thee, no mortal had won. Though tempests may rave, etc. —Two persons were once disputing so loudly on the subject of religion that they awoke a big dog, which had Wen sleeping on the hearth before them, and he forthwith barked most furiously. An old divine present, who had been quietly sipping his tea while the disputants were talking, gave the dog a kick, and ex claimed : “ Hold your tongue, you silly brute ! You know no more about it than they do!” Butter will remove tar spots. Snip aud water will afterwards take out. the grease stains.