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VOLU3IE YI. THE WISE PARROT. UY JENNY BTOVIN. In an Indian bazaar they had parrots for sale Gaudy parrots ot brilliant hue, Swinging about on their gilded stands, Chatt’ring the little they cunningly knew. The salesman looked on with a knowing air, Watching the strangers who stood to gazo At the noisy birds w’ho basked in the sun, ('idling al nid in its sultry rays. At length an Englishman, old and wise, S .id that he wished a parrot to buy— One that was handsome, intelligent too; And Go scanned them all with an eager eye Price was no object; so the best of the birds Were then paraded before his view; Such a bevy of biilliant things— Crimson and yellow, green, gokl and blue. They chat'red the phrases audvvords wellkuown That Indian parrots so generally say; Every one said the self-same thing— All but a silent old bird in gray— Which sat in a serious and sulky mood, Watching them all in a scornful style, Holding its head a whit ou one side, While the sidtsman looked ou with a grati fied smile. The Englishman mark’d the grave, gray bird, And turned in a jocular, mocking way, “From a brilliant crew like this,” he said, “It’s hard to buy one bird away; Their string of phrases is long and good; Their plumage inspection will earnestly bear; But who will purchase that old gray bird That sits so grave on the perch up there? Halloa, old bird! with your ragged tail, Your hall-closed eyes and horny beak, Have yini no words like these merry birds? Do you never parley, or never speak?” The parrot shook and rattled its ?hain, And said, while it rubbed its head with its claw; “Idon’t talk much, but I’m worth three pounds For, take my word, l think the more.” The Englishman look’d with great surprise Aud said in a tone of the highest glee: “Take this ten pound note for the old gray bird, Aiul send its cage to the ship for me. If it speaks such sense in a single phrase, The very first speech that the bird has said, I'll b t it knows as much as I; What a fund of w isdom must lie in its liead.’> “I should not wonder," the salesman cried, As he put in his purse the ten-pound note, Aud he took good care to send the bird In time to leave by the evening boat. But the parrot repeated this one speech, For the rest ot its life and all its days, Till the owner was sick of the hackney and sound, And hated the oft-repeated phrase. It was all that the bird had learnt or knew. But there are many mm like it, alackaday, lou will hear all they know, the extent of all, In the very first sentence they venture to say‘ MISCELLANY. OUT OF THE SHADOW. A Sketch IVoia Life. BY NETTIE LOVELESS KIERULFF. The sunlight fell in golden glory around me, us I started fora walk in the fresh morning air through the grounds of my childhood’s home to con template, and probably fcr the last time, its dear and almost sacred beau ties. AJy heart was heavy with lone liness and distress and passing under a favorite oak that had sheltered my head from the lu dday sun, I gazed around at many beloved objects that were now the property of another. There was the tall old house where I was born, with its long verandahs and snowy columns ; there, the clinging ivy planted by the fair hands of my beautiful sister who sleeps so quietly in the shadow of the lilacs while their blossoms fall softly on her unkept grave. There were the winding path, the crystal spring, all so dear to my heart, but from which I must part f jrever. I was now very poor. The beloved ■old homestead had passed into other hands, and l girl of eighteen, must go out info the world orpin houseless alone and almost penniless . I had always loyed art, and in palm ier days had studied it assiduously, and now thrown on my own resources for my own resources for my daily sustenance, I resolved to win a name and fortune by the gift Go l had given me. I bade a farewell to the loved spot where I had passed my happy arnbi tious hopes for the future, took the noonday train that boro me and my precious portfolio to the city of A. My simple purse warned mo to se lect unpretentious lodgings where I spent the night thinking of the bril liant life 1 would eve itualiy lead in the great city. I had never known pover ty, was young, ambitious and imagin ative, and believed firmly that the most complete success would crown my efforts in the aitistic world. Morn ing however found me somewhat con fused and uncertain how to begin my business. Glancing over the paper I noticed tlie striking advertisement of a portrait painter, and feeling that no acquaintance would he so valuable to me as one of my own profession, I made careful selections from my port folio, and with hopes started for the i studio of the popubir artist. I entered the elegantly furnished apartment timidly, and although the gentlemen met me with courtesy, I ielt completely crushed by the impres siveness of my surroundings. Portraits in massive gilt frames stood on all sides of the room, reaching al most to the ceiling They represented noble looking men and elegantly dress ed though rather insipid looking la dies. I was only a simple-hearted country girl, and so ashamed did I feel of the little 18X20 studies I had taken from my collections, that I could at that moment have dropped them in obliv ion. But this emotion passed. I had studied art because it was a passion of my soul, and I felt that an excellent course ol instruction had imparted to my taste just powers of discrimination. Controlling my feelings of reverence lor the look's ot the studio, I examined the portraits carefully, and saw at once that as paintings they were far from perfect. I felt that I could take the brush and with my own band add ex actness, truth, delicacy and beauty to the faces that gazed at me from every side. The artist gave me all the informa tion I could desire aoout his paintings, his evident wish being to impress me with the idea that they were the most wonderful productions of the age. \\ ilh some degree of pride I at length presented my little studies for his in spection and criticism, asking at the same time if he thought I could make it profitable by establishing a studio in the city. He looked in astonishment from the picture he was turning carelessly about, transfixed me with his keen little eyes, and then running his white lingers through his dark hair, inform ed me coolly that lie thought it utter folly for me think of such a thing That artists of the highest ability could scarcely keep from starving, and while my specimens evinced some little de gree of talent, I had been educated in a false schoool of art —my coloring was all wrong. He would be glad to have me as a pupil, but as to making a living by the art, I had best take his advice and give up the idea at once/ ‘1 cannot take your advice,’ I au swered curtly. ‘I shall establish my studio at once/ and taking my bits of Canvass from the man who seemed de termined to obliterate me from the art world, 1 bowed him good morning, and went out into the bright sun-lit streets ready to cry out with indigna tion and disappointment. I had been told by connoiseures that my pictures were creditable studies in art, and now the popular artist, the man whom it was the fashion to patronize and ap plaud, had failed to see anything in them save some very slight indications of talent. I felt his criticism was not just, and resolved at least to make an effort to share his very gratifying pop ularity. It was quite puzzling to know how to begin, but at last I settled upon the plan of painting the portrait of some distinguished man of the city, intend ing to put it on exhibition, and in this way attract the attention of the pub lic, feeling assured if the capricious spirit of favor should smile upon me, I might secure as much work as I could wish. So absorbed was Iby my idea, that I did not discover until I had reached my lodgings that I had lost my most valuable painting. I retraced my steps at once, searching and enquir ing fur it, bat to no purpose. It was only marked in one corner by my sim ple name, Genevra. So distressed did 1 feci for its loss that I forthwith pio ceeded to advertise it, describing my Madonna head, and offering a reason able reward fur its recovery. This somewhat reassured me, and ordering a piece of canvass I commenciM work on the picture that was to bring me fame and fortune. I worked carefully and patiently, copying and enlarging with scrupu lous exactness the photograph of Gen. ll—, conscious that the realization ot my bright hopes depended on the suc cess my work. My means grew very small forcing me to economize in ev ery expenditure. But I determined to succeed. One fear assailed me, and though I often put it aside, it came to me sometimes, bringing a quick pang. ft was the fear lest my eyes should fail. Often while I worked a sudden momentary mist came between me and my canvass, and a lance-like pain dart ed through the delicate centres of slight. But I disregarded the warning. 1 could not afford to be thus admen, ished to lay aside my precious project and rest my over-taxed visual organs, still I worked on, correcting, elaborat ing and retouching, A month passed, and I had not added the finishing touches. I labored under one disad vantage—l had never seen Gen. II—• and had to depend entirely on the cor rectness of the photograph I had pur chased, and the newspaper description of lnm that 1 kept constantly by mo. There was a very exciting political meeting going on in the City Hall, 1 learned one morniug Übout eleven o‘clock, and that the original of my picture was one of the principal ora ors. We were in the midst of one of our almost tropical summers, and at the time of day the sun was blazing down unmercifully, but I determined I would see Gen. ll and judge myself of the correctness of my work before offering it for public criticism. I walkel hurriedly along the hot and dusty streets till I reached the Hall which I entered in a tremor of excite ment. I refrained from looking at the speaker's stand for a time, and as I raised my eyes, the orator poised him self in his favorite position, and as it was the exact one I had copied, I was overwhelmed with joy at the triumph I had achieved. I gazed with delight upon the animated counterpart of the image I had worked out so patiently. My happy tears could hardly be re strained, and I hastened out into the open air. Then a fervent ‘tnank Heaven V fell from my lips. With ela ted steps, I hurried along I know' not whither until all of a sudden it seemed to grow strangely dark. I gazed up at tire sky, the sunlight fell warmly on my face, but still I could see but a faint gleam of light. I gazed down at the pavement, but my world was envel oped in uttei darkness and I c raid not distinguish my way. Suddenly the truth pierced my brain like lightning. The calamity I had refused to be warn ed of had overtaken me. My over taxed sight hid givenen wav. I was blind! Blind and helpless! Great God, couldthis be true ? Overwhelmed at the enormity ot my misfortune I stood there in the almost deserted streets and prayed, oh, so earnestly that if God had taken away my sight from me to let me die. Realizing at length that I must get home, I asked a passerby to call a hack, and was soon in my own room. I hoped that the cool shade of my lodgings, quiet and rest, would restore my sight, but hour after hour I waited to no purpose. Evening came on, the lamps were brought in, but still all was darkues with me. The maid informed me that a gentle man had called while I was out, and said he would come again in the even ing as lie wished to see me on particu lar business. lie came. Dismissing my guide at the parlor door, I entered the room alone, but realizing how helpless I had become, I stretched out my hand, which was elapsed between two cool palms, and a manly though tender voice said sympathetically, ‘Let me lead you to the sofa. The landlady has just told me of the great misfortune that befell you this morning I earnest ly regret it and hope your sight may be restored. There was something in the touch of his soft hand, and the pleasant, sympathetic ring of his voice that made me trust him, and before I knew it I was talking quite free'y to this stranger, whom I might never see, and talking of myself, of the hopes I had entertained and of my present helpless condition. ‘lfound your picture—thelorely lit. tie Madonna head,’ he said when I had finished, ‘and came around mainly to see if I could purchase it from you—l love art, I have studied it for years in Paris, and paint still occasionally for my own pleasure and gratification. I will pay you a hundred dollais for it- Will you part with it?’ A hundred doll trs ! If I was blind, I would be independent still with that fora time. I told Idm how 1 felt, ac cepted the offer and thanked him earn* estly for the purchase. When leaving he asked me if he could come next morning and examine my portrait of Gen. II --. Of course I consented gladly. He came and he extolled my picture until I felt almost repaid for the loss of my eyes. The picture was put on exhibition and attracted univer- EASTMAN, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, IS7S. sal attention. News reporters, appre ciating this, besieged my humble lodg ings and ere long had worked up a very touching little romance of my youth, poverty and misfortune Kind ness and complements were bestowed on ine by many distinguished persons, but Prof. Woodville, the purchaser of my lost study, became my one dear and devoted friend. He visited me oltea, and somehow I always forgot my misfortune in his presence. He described scenes, places and circum stances so truly to me that I almost be lieved I saw the animated pictures his sweet voice presented to my mind's eyes. He came one morning to read for me as usual, and when about leaving mentioned that he would start for Par is the next day. Business called him there ; so he must part from his little friend. I felt as if someone had asked me to give up my life, and I clasped my trembling hands over my poor blind eyes. lie sat down by me; he took my hands in his ; he asked me to go to Paris with him ; to be his wife 1 lie loved me and me only. I was alone ; I was helpless ; I was blind ; I loved him as my life ; I mar ried him ; I was happy. On reaching Paiis a celebrated oculist attended me; I began to improve rapidly and one day my sight was suddenly re stored. It was my express! wish that ray face should be the first my sight rested upon, and the physician telling me to remove the screen after lie bad gone out, went and sent up my husband. Ttie room was darkened; 1 saw dim ly at first, then clearly. The door opened and I stood face to lace with a middle-aged though well preserved gentleman. I was irresolute for a mo ment, blit as I gazed up into the bril liant, though ti iider dark eyes. I felt that 1 at last looked upon the loved face and form of my idol‘zed husband. He Wanted to be a Juryman. Presently the stillness of the court was interrupted by the < ntrance of a man who came in with a shuffling, un easy step, with his hat in his hand. He halted and leaned against the rail ing. Nobody took the least notice of him, however. At last he took cour age and spoke. ‘ls the Judge in?’ The clerk immediately awoke Ilis Honor. ‘Well, what do you want?' ‘l'm lookin' for a job, yer Honor. I've been lookin' for work over a month.’ ‘There is nothing for you here, sir.' ‘I thought you occashunly give jury men a job. I don’t read newspapers any, and bein' a stranger in town, 1 hain't got no prejudice ag’in anybody. A pard of mine wrote down to Reno last week, and said that the jury busi ness up here was brisk, and it would pay to come up. As I'm a stranger to ye, aud a little hard up, I’ll stand in and serve for a case or two for half price till ye see what I can do.’ ‘What is your principal qualifica tion, sir?’ ‘My strong p’int is in making a jury agree. No juries ever hang if I’m on 'em. I jist lay low till the first ballot, and then jine the majority and argue the rest into it. I kin discount any lawyer talkin'. I kin show 'em up p'ints they never tumbled to before. Sometimes I have to use force, but that is seldom. Once down at Truck ee, in a murder case, there was a cou ple of fellows standiu' against bangin' and after aiguein' with 'em as smooth and gentlemanly as T could for half an hour, I went for ’em with chairs, and by the time I had bursted a half-dozen pieces of furniture on ’em they were glad to come in with a verdict of mur der in the first degree, and the feller was hung not long afterwards. In justices’ courts you can bet on the jury, and if you'd jist wink as to how you want a case to go, I'll guarantee to fetch in the verdict you want or not take a cent.' The Judge told him to call around in a day or two and he would try and find a vacancy for him, but in order to do so a regular juryman wauld have to be discharged. Mrs, Shoddy's views are interesting to those who are thinking about keep ing a carriage. She says that she has thought it all over, and come to the conclusion that brooches are almost too large, that these here coupons are too shut up, but that a nice stylish i pony phantom seems to be just the 1 thing. Recent Post-Office Kulingsi The husband cannot control the correspondence of the wife, and if the wife requests that tetters directed to her be not placed in the husband's box, the postmaster should comply with her request. Currency cannot be sent in sealed transparent envelopes unless postage is paid at letter rates. A registered letter cannot be at tached while in the hands of a post master before its delivery, as the de partment holds it in legal custody for delivery to the person addressed or according to his or her order. To inclose an envelope with a writ ten address thereon, to be used at some future time, would subject any pack age of which it forms a part to letter postage. A publication claiming two places or localities as its office of publication, cannot be mailed from either place at pound rates. The Postoffice Department has do authority to detain or open letters sent in conformity to the laws govern ing their transmission in the mails; suen letters must be delivered to the person named in the addiess, or ac cording to his or her order, as soon after arrival as practicable, but it is the duty of the postmaster to obey a man date of the court, and should he have undelivered letters in his office addres sed to a persun on trial in court, and the court having served on such post master a subpena duces tecum , itwould be Lis duty to appear in court with the letters, and, once in court with the letters, the jurisdiction of the Post office Department ceases, and if said letters are opened the responsibility rests with the court. Anything whatever pasted, gummed or attached to a postal card subjects the same to letter rates of postage. '1 he law makes no provision for the mailing of ‘extras,’ except that they must be prepaid at the rate for printed matter. To inclose a handbiU in a new.-paper sent to a regular subscriber would sub ject the entire package to postage at the rate of 1 cent for each two ounces or fraction thereof. Tin dishes are unmailable. Printed matter cannot be returned to sender unless the Postmaster is fur nished with stamps or money to pre pay the same. Postmasters are not required to open their offices on Sunday unless a mail arrives on that day. To paste a printed slip on a postal card would render the same subject to letter rates of postage. Soap is unmailable. Any matter partly in print and part ly in writing is subject to letter rates of postage. Packages of merchandise not pre paid in full, at the rate of 1 cent for each ounce or fraction thereof, should not be forwarded. When two or more kinds of mail matter are inclosed in the same pack age, the entire package is subject to the higher rate. Advertising sheets received in bulk mail prepaid at pound rates should not be delivered unless postage is paid at double rates, 1 cent for each ounce or fraction thereof. The insertion of anew date or figure in a circular makes it subject to letter rates of postage.— Western Postal Re view. No Boom There. A belated and rather poverty strick en foot traveler, whose railway ticket was good on all country roads and cattle paths, stopped at a sm dl man', sion of apparently four rooms and a kitchen, in the South Ilill suburbs the other evening, to beg a night's lodging. As he stood timidly knocking at the half open door, he heard the shrill com manding tones of the lady ot the house disposing the garrison for the night. ‘Tommy, go and hunt up Charley and Hon and tell them to goto the grocery" and tell your lather to bring Ella and Willie right home, it's their bed time; and if they see Louise on their way, send her to Miss for Alice and Jim, and see if they know where Ezra is; you take this lamp up to Grandma’s room and ask her if she won't take care of baby wh le I go and find Dick, and while Pm gone you un dress Mabel and put her to bed; and if cousin Harry comes while 1 am gone tell him he’s to sleep with you.’ And the traveler sighed and turned away so oppressed with a feeling of over crowdedness that he walked out in the country" and slept in the middle of a prairie nine miles long. —Burlington llaw Lege. Removing Spots from Cloths. Spots ol Sugar, Glue, Blood, Albu men.— On white goods, on dyed tis sues of e >tton and wool, and on silk, simple washing in water. Spots of Grease.—On white goods, soap water or alkalies; on dyed tissues of cotton, hot soap water; ditto of Wool, soap water or ammonia; cn silk, benzine, ether, ammonia, magnesia, chalk, yelk of egg. Colors of Varnish,Resins. —On white goods, and on dyed tissues of cotton and wool, turpentine, benzine, ether, soap; rub with care. Sifariue Tallow.—On white goods, on dyed tissues of cotton and wool, and on silk, alcohol at 95 deg. Vegetable color?, Wine aud Fruit Stains, Red Ink.—On white goods, va pors of sulphurous acid, hot bleaching powder solution (weak); on dyed tis sues of cotton and wool, wasli with warm soap water, or ammonia; on silk # same; rub softly and carefully. Alizarine Ink.—On white goods, tar taric acid, more concentrated as the spot is older; on dyed tissues of cots ton and wool, weak solution of tartar ic acid if the color allows; on silk, same, with care. Rust, Black Ink.—On white goods, warm solution of oxalic acid, weak muriatic acid, on dyed tissues of cot ton, repeated washings with citric acid if the color is well dyed; ditto of wool, same, muriatic acid if the wool is of the natural color; on silk, no remedy. Lime, Lyes, Alkalies.—On white goods, simple washing with water; on dyed tissues of cotton and wool, and on silk, weak nitric acid poured drop by drop, and rub with the finger the spot previously moistened. Acids, Vinegar, Fruit Acids, Mold. —On white goods, washing with wa ter or hot solution of bleaching pow> der, weak; on dyed tissues ol cotton and wool, and on silk, ammonia, more or less weak, according to the tissue and the color. Tannins, Walnut Shell stains.—On white goods, Javelle water, bleaching powder water, concentrated tartaric acid; on dyed tissues of cotton and wool, and on silk, chlorinated water, more or less dilute, according to tissue and the color, and alternately washing with water. Tar,Wagon Grease.-On white goods, soap, turpentine aud jet of water ah ternately; on dyed tissues of cotton and wool, rub with pumice stone, then soap, then let stand, wash alternately with turpentine and waiter ; on silk, same, but use benzine, and let a jet of water fall from a height upon the back of the spot. —Scientific American. Wliat Becomes of Wealth. A boot and shoe dealer has hanging in his store a pair of boots worth sev en dollars. They constitute a part of his wealth, and a portion of the wealth of the world. A man buys them and begins to wear them; by friction against the pavement little particles ot the leather are rubbed off, anil thus separated from the rest of the sole. Every particle that is thus removed takes out a portion of the value of the boots, and when the bools areeutirely worn out the seven dollars of wealth which they formed is consumed. The wheat, corn, etc., which was raised by our farmers last summer is being eaten up. No particle of the matter is destroyed by this process, but the value which was in the grain is de stroyed. As, while men are wearing out clo thing and eating up food, they are generally busily employed producing wealth of some kind, the wealth of the world is not usually diminished by the consumption, but it is changed. This applies, however, only to person al properly; town lots and farms gen erally retain their value, but personal property is subject to perpetual de struction and renewal. As the several particles of water which constitute a river are forever rolling away to the ocean, while their places are being supplied from trie springs and foun- so the movable wealth of the world is constantly being consumed to gratify human wants, and constant ly being renewed by the restless ac tivity of human industry. A young man made his appearance at Dead wood last week in a pair of white trousers. lie was promptly es cor led to the train, put on board and an injunction laid upon him never to revisit the place. ‘We can stand a biled shirt/ a miner exclaimed, ‘but when it comes to wearing biled draw ers it's more'ii we’re agwine to put up with.' STpIiUMORIb The late worm escapes the early bird. m —* *A popular steak-holder—the grid iron. Nursery song—Bub ill, bub ill, toil aud trouble. What is that which never asks any questions but requires many answers? The street door. To blow out a kerosene lamp with safety to yourself—Get somebody else to do the blowing. The label upon a bottle of ague rem edy, requesting the patient to shako well before using, is superfluous. Young swell—l should like to havo my moustache dyed. Polite barber— Certainly; did you bring it with yon? Nothing casts a man down more than to h ive In's last match go out; es pecially if he has bitten the end off his cigar. Why is an auctioneer who sells a woman a bottle of cordial a base cow ard? Because he knocks her dowu an elixir. The goat cats 449 kinds of plants, more than any other brute in creation, and yet he can’t lot old oyster cans and newspapers alone. Mr. Rifell attempted to kiss a young lady at a picnic last week, but stum bling he fell down. The girls now call him blunder-buss. There are some mysteries you can never solve, and one of them is why the man who goes to market just for a diink always carrit s a basket. Why did Joseph’s brethren put him in the pit? Because they thought it a good opening for the young man. Also to get him out of the family'circle. When it comes to destroying sleep, a cow with a bell ou will double dis count a guilty conscience and beat it ninety-seven points out of a possible hundred. lie said he rather guessi and he knew how te sail a boat—but the gentle zephyrs that kiss the wavelets over his watery grave mournfully whisper, ‘lie luffed not wisely ' ‘How is it, miss, you gave your ago to the census taker as only 25, when youfwere born in the same year I was and lam 39?' ‘Ah! you have lived much faster than I, sir.' An Indianapolis barber who aband oned his business and went into the ministry, was suddenly called upon one Sunday to baptize three candidates. He got along very well, but after bap tizing the first he astonished his con gregation by lustily shouting, ‘Next!’ A self-sufficient fop at an evening party, after annoying the company for some time by his attempted wit, seeing a lamp half filled, turned to a young lady, and said : ‘Can you tell me why that lamp is like me ?' to which she instantly’ replied : ‘Because it is half fool (half full.) Who ever heard a swallow tale Or wore a coat of arms? Who ever saw the water pale Or gave great falls alarm? Who ever rode a wild saw-horse? Or ever heard sand’s tone? Who ever saw the sun's rays course Or heard a pane full grown? f VVhat is the defendant's character for truth and veracity?’ asked a Maine lawyer of a witness. ‘Waal, now", squire, she allers used me fust rate. I’ll be bio wed if she didn't. As for voracity, squire, why, bless you, that w"as her big holt. Why, I've seen that air gal eat a whule ' Here the Judge asked the witness if lie under stood the question. * r l hey were talking about the weight of different individuals in a certain family in Newark the other evening, and the daughter's young man, who was present, spoke up before he tho't, and said, ‘l tell you that Jenny isn't so very light either, though she looks so.' And then he looked suddenly conscious and blushed, and Jenny be came absorbed in studying a chrorno on the wall. NO. 38.