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VOLUME 111. Advertising Rated. inches, . | 8 m j 6 m j 12m 1 Inch, single column $ 5 00 $ 7 00 $lO 00 t Inches, “ “ ' 7 00; 000 12 00 8 Inches. “ “ \ 900 11 00 1 15 (X) 1 Column single 25 00 40 OOi 75 00 1-2 “ “ V* 510 00 30 00! 50 00 14 “ “ 8 Inches double column \. 800 15 (X) 2000 3 Inches double column 12 00 18 00 301X1 4 Inches douele column.| 15 00 21 00| 35 00 , ; 1 -’X ' Laws Relatiugto Newspaperfisbucriptlonii and Arrearages.' -^' (The following from a judicial offioer states that it is the decision of the United States Su preme Court): 1. Subscribers who do not give express notice to the contrary, are considered wishng to con tinue their subscription. 2. If subscribers order the discontinuance of their periodicals, the publishers may continue to send them until all arrearages are paid. 8. Jf subscribers neglect or refuse to take their periodicals from the office to which they are di rected,‘they are held responsible until they have settled their bills and ordered them discontinued. 4. If subscribhrs move to other places without notifying publishers, and the papers are sent to the direction, they are held responsible. 5. The courts.’have decided that “refusing to take from the office, or removing and leaving them <fl4icailed for, is prima facie evi donee of intefitkufhl fraud".” 6. Any person }vho receives a newspaper and makes use of it. whother he has ordered it or not is held in law to be k subscriber. 7. If subscribers pay in advance, they are bound to give notice to the publisher, at the end of their time, if they do not wish to continue taking it; otherwise the publisher is authorized to send it on: and the subsaribers will be respon aiblpjintil an express notice, with payment of all scut to the publisher. fi H SMITH '• SMITH HBHIMtfH. SON & BRO. V. roivis ■ i. :i-;- I '' * 11 ■ ■ ■ -■'• ■ • ■ ; * 1 ■ • •• ; - need of goods be sure and give us a call. Ourmottoip “quick sales and snort profits.” We are also proprietors of SMITH'S CELEBRATED STOMACH HITTERS. Be sure and give them a trial, they are sold by all Grocers and Druggists, throughout several States. S. I*. SMITH, SON &, ISKO. Town Property For Sale. CUE API CHEAP!! My place in Summerville is for sale. It is situated m the main street, three doors below the court hi4ree, a good house, well and a Those dessring to nur- V? ?•_{ '|?, T V,Wh| i ■ ' :;■ l \ B Vi. H -A.t; t. k\s Vegetable Seed are the best the world produces. They are planted by a million people in America, and the result is, beautiful Flowers and splendid Vege tables. A priced catalogue sent free to all who enclose the postage—a* cent stamp. VICK’S Flower and Vegetable Garden is the most beautiful work" of the kind in the world. It contains nearly 150 pages, hundreds of fine illustrations, and four Chromo Plates of Flowers, beautifully drawn and colored from nature. Price 35 cents in paper covers; 65 cents bound in elegant cloth. Vick’s Floral (ui(le This is a beautiful Quarterly Journal, finely illus trated. and containing an elegant colored front Is piece with the first number. Price only 25 cents for the year. Address JAMES VICK, Rochester. N. Y. GET THE BEST. Webster’s Abridged Dictionary 10,000 Word* and Meaning* not in other Dic tionaries. 3000 Engravings; 184 0 pages quarto. Price #l2 We commend it as a splendid specimen of learn ing, taste, and labor. —Montgomery Ledger. Every scholar, and especially every minister should have it.— West Presh.. LouisrdUe. Best book for evert body that the press has pro duced in the pretent century. —Golden Era. Superior, incomparably, to all others, in its defi nitions — li. W. McDonald, Pres. Cumb. Univ'y The reputation of this wirk is not confined to America. —Richmond Whig. Every family in the United States should have this work .—Gallatin Republican. Repository of useful information; as such it stands without a rivaL —Nashville Dispatch. “The BEST PRACTICAL ENGLISH DICTIONARY extant.’ I —London Quarterly Review. Oct. 1873. A NEW FEATURE. To the 3000 Illustrations heretofore in Web ster's Unabridged we have recently added four pages af COLORED ILLUSTRATIONS, ■engraved expressly for the work at large expense. ALSO "Webster’s National Pictorial Dictionary. 1040 Payee Octavo. 600 Engraving*. Pripe $5. J3F“* The National .Standard. PROOF—2O to 1. The sales of Webster’s Dictionaries throughout the country in 1873 were 20 times as large as the I sales of any other Dictionaries. In proof, we will ! send to any person, on application the statements 1 of more than 100 booksellers, from every section i of the country. Published by G. &(\ EKKIA >l, Springfield, Mass. Ilf UnntntefliUe t\\t THE “PHILHARMONIC - ’ PIANO. This entirely new instrument possessing all the essential oualities of more expensive and higher-priced Pianos is offered at a lower price than any similar oue now In the market. It is durable, with a magnificent tone hardly surpass ed and yet it can be purchased at prices and on 'terms within the reach of all. This instrument has all the modern improvements, including the celebrated ’Agraffe' treble, and is fully warranted Catalogues mailed. WATERS' wmw 3Uiiu'.a are the best made. The touch is elastic, and a fine singing tone, powerful, pure and even. Watirs’ Concerto Organs cannot be excelled in tone or beauty: they defy competition. The Concerto Stop is aline imita tion of the Human Voice. PRICES EXTREMELY LOW for cash during this month. Monthly Installments received: On , Pianos, $lO to S2O; Organs, live to ten dollars; • Second hand Instruments, three to five dollars; monthly after first Deposit. Agents Wanted. A liberal discount to Teachers, Ministers, Lodges, , Churches, Schools, etc. Special inducements to the trade. Illustrated Catalogues mailed. HORACE WATERS & SONS, 481 Broadway, New York. Box 3567. Testimonials OF— Waters’ Pianos and Organs. Waters'New Scale pianos have peculiar merit, i —Ne w York TYibune. The tone of the Waters' piano is rich mellow : and sonorous. They possess great volume of ' sound and the continuation of sound or singing powwr is one of their most marked features.— , New York Time*. Waters’ Couterto Organ is so voiced as to have ' a tone like a full rich alto voice. It is especially | human is its tone, powerful yet sweet - Rural j Nett Yorker. [jan2o-ly] : 17 CENTS A MONTH WILL BUY ' • a newspaper for one year. Every family is able to have The Gazette at this low price. “A Complete Pictorial History of the Times.”— “The best, cheapest, and most successful Family Paper in the Union.” Harper's Weekly. ILLUSTRATED. Notice* of the Pres*. Harper'* Weekly is the ablest and most power ful illustrated periodicals published in this coun try Its editorials are scholarly and convincing, and carry much weight. Its illustrations of cur rent events are full and frost, and are prepared by our designers. With a circulation of 150,(XX), the Weekly is read by at least half a million per sons, ana its influence as an organ of opinion is simply tremendous. The Weekly maintains a positive position, and expresses decided views on political and social problems. Louisville Courier-Jo urn tU. Its articles are models cf high-tom*!- discus sion, aud its pictorial .illustrations are often cor roborative arguments of no small force. N. Y. Examiner and Chronicle. Its papers upon existent questions and its inimitable cartoons help to mould tire sentiments of the country.— Pittsburgh Commercial. Harper ’* Weekly stands at the head of illus trated journals in the United States, in circula tion, editorial ability, and pictorial illustration. -Ladie*' Repository, Cincinnati. TERMS: Postage Free to all Subscribers in the United States. Harper’s Weekly, one year $4.00 $4.00 includes prepayment of U. S. postage by the publishers, SultHcription* to Harper’s Magazine, Weekly, or Bazar, to one add res* for one year $10.00; or, two of Harper* Periodicals , to one address for one year, $7.00: postage free, An Extra Copy of either the Magazine, Weekly, or Razar will be supplied gratis tor evory club of Five Subsotibers at S4.(X) each, in one remit tance; or Six Copies for $20.00, without extra copy: postage free. Back Numbers can be supplied at any time. The Annual Volumes of Harper s Weekly, in neat cloth binding, will be sent by express, free of expense, for $7.00 each. A Complete Set , com prising Nineteen Volumes, sent on seceipt of cash at the rate of $5.25 per vol„ freight at expense of purchaser. Prominent attention will be given in Harper'* Weekly, to the illustration of the Centennial In ternational Exposition. Newspaper* arc not to copy thi* advertisement without the e/xjtres* order of Harper #■ Brother*. Address HARPER & BROTHER, New York. ej.RK.VT IMPROVEMENT, GIVING v A benefit to every reader, is seen each week in The Gazette, as it carries the news to the farm homes of a thrifty and widspread section. THE WEEKLY SUN. 1770. NE W YORK, 1876 Eighteen hundred and seventy-six is the Cen tennial year. It is also the year in which an Op position House of Representatives, the first since the war, will bo in power at Washington; and the year of the twenty-third election of a Presi dent of the United States. All these events are sole to be of great interest and importance, es pecially the two latter; and all of them arid everything connected with them will be fully and freshly reported and expounded in The Sun. The Opposition House of Representatives, taking up the line of inquiry opened years ago by The Sun. will sternly and diligently investigate the corruptions and misdeeds of Grant’s admin istration; and will, it is to be hoped, lay the foundation for anew and better period in our national history. Of all this The Sun will con tain complete and accurate accounts, furnishing its readers with early and trustworthy informa tion upon these absorbing topics. The tweutv-third Presidential election, with the preparations for it, will be memorable as de elding upon Grant's aspirations for u third term of power and plunder, and still more as deciding who shall be the candidate of the party of Re form, and as electing that candidate. Concern ing all these subjects, those who read The Sun will have the constant means of being thoroughly well informen. The Weekly Sun, which has attained a circu lafcion of over eighty thousand copies, already has its readers in every State and Territory, and we trust that the year 1876 will see their numbers doubled. It will continue to be a thorough newspaper. All the general news of the day will be found in it. condensed when unimportant, at full length when of moment; and always, we trust, treated in a clear, interesting and instruc tive manner. It is our aim to make the Weekly Sun the best family newspaper in the world, and we shall con- | tinue in its columns a large amount of raised i laneous reading, such as stories, tales, poems, scientific Intelligence and agricultural informa tion, for which we are not able to make room in our daily edition. The agricultural department especially is one of its prominent features. The fashions are also regularly reported in iU columns; and so are the markets of every kind. The Weekly Sen. eight pages with fifty-six broad columns is only #1.20 a year, postage pre paid. As this price barely repays the cost of "the paper, no discount can be made from this rate to : clubs, agents, postmasters, or anyone. The Daily Sun, a large four page newspaper of twenty-eigh columns, gives all trie news for two ceuts a copy. Subscription, postage prepaid, . 55c. a month or #6.50 a year. Sunday edition I extra. #l.lO per year. We have no traveling agents. Address, THE SUN, NEW YORK city. SUMMERVILLE, GEORGIA, JULY (i, 1876. A Woman’s Answer. Do you know that you have asked me for the costliest thing Ever made by the Hand above? ( A woman’s heart and a woman s life— And a woman's wonderful love? * Do you know that you have asked for this price less thing Asa child might, ask for a toy ? Demanding what others have died to win, j With the reckless dash of a boy? ; You have written my lesson of duty out— Man like have you questioned me; ! Now stand at the bar of my woman's soul, | Until 1 shall question thee. You require your mutton shall always be hot, Tom socks aud your shirts be whole ; I require your heart to be true as God's stars, And pure as His heaven your soul. You require a cook for your mutton aud beef, 1 require a far greater thing; A seamstress wanting for socks aud for shirts, I look for a man aud a king. A king for the beautiful realm called homo, Anu a man that the Maker God Will you love me, then, ’mid the falling, As you did 'mid the blooms of May? is your heart an ocean so strong and deep f may launch my nil on its tide? i A loving woman finds a heaven or hell | On the day she becomes a bride. 1 require all things that are grand and true. All things that a man should be; If you give this all 1 would stake my life ; To be all you demand of me. If yon cannot be this a laundress and cook You can hire and little to pay; But a woman’s heart and a woman's life. Are not to bo won that way. I [Written for The Gazette. 1 The Fisherman s Daughter; —OR, — A Girl's Life by the Lake. i B\ MINTI.KTOE. CHAPTER IX. A clear cold day in December, and Athione's doors were opened to the crowd of-sight-seers who thronged his apart ments. The winter sun shone through tile window of the studio and fell full j upon the features of a very beautiful wo j man, who stood quite apart from the ad i miring throng, seemingly lost in dreamy contemplation of a painting—that of a young.girl of rare and strange loveliness. There was something peculiarly fascinat j mg in tlie expression; something in the soft, dark eyes and winsome face that. . sitKingeiy touched her heart and awakened recollections of the long ago. | Leonora Waters had married when youire, an itnliun Synor Mnssino, with whom she had lived Iwo short, happy years; when one day, being thrown from from iiis horse, lie received injuries from which lie never recovered, and -after a lew hours of suffering, died, leaving his young wife and infant daughter. She hud been exceedingly bflautifui, and there were still traces of beauty iri tlie proud, calm face, that told of suffer ing long endured. There were linos about tlie quiet compressed lips, not wrought hy time, arrtl glistening white hair streaked the idassj* Wraidsef rich gold that were caught back from tlie flure brow, and con fined in aujqii by ,1 richly calved comb of silver. J There was a leok of sad hopeless ness, in tlie uicltinfc gleam of the dark blue eyes, as witli a sigh she turned from tlie picture to go, when a servant ap proached and handed her a note- She opened and read: , “Signora Marsi.no:—Come quickly; ;I am dying! Delay not in granting this j last request. I have something of impor tance to impart. Signor Bakou.” “I wonder what he can want witli me,” she thought crumpling the note in her hand. ‘ Something of importance, i’ll go and see him. Leo get tlie carriage ready” “The Signor's own carriage is Waiting at tlie door for you, madam,” he said, bowing respectfully. She entered the carriage, and the ser vant taking the reins, they we're soon at their journey’s end, the carriage stopping in front of a lordly residence of brown stone. Alighting, she was escorted im mediately up to the sick man’s chamber. He lay burning and flushed with fever, yet the heated brow paled a little, and the glittering intensely black eyes shrank from coming iri contact widi those of his visitor. She had never liked this man, yet she could not but pity him, when she saw how changed he was. There was a dangerous look in those eyes of his, that j had always repulsed and chilled her. I “I received your message,” she said, ! coining near and looking upon the swollen and distorted features; “and have has : tened to you. If there is anything 1 can (Jo for you, I would he happy to know it. ” “No, you can do nothing for me—l'm | past human aid. Nevertheless, I thank i you for coming—hut don’t look at me that way I that reproachful look which seems to creep into your eyes, only when ; they rest on mine, would kill me sooner than this cursed fever,” lie said, tossing the silken coverlet from him. “If this is all you want with me,” she said, rising as if to go, “I’ll relieve you of my troublesome-—” “Stay,” l.e cried, as she moved toward i the door; “I am coming to it now ; corue listen to me. I’ll teilyou all—everything - only don’t look so reproachfully at me, 1 will you?” “lias he lost his senses,” she won dered, returning to the bed-side. He mot.ioned her to be seated, and then commenced the following: “I know I’m dying, and I have that on my mind, that wont let me rest until I’ve unburdened the secret. The thought of it has made me wretched these long years and I can’t go away from hero with it locked tip in my own breast.” He paused and glanced at bur to mark the effect of his words. She was interested, arid lie continued: “Years ago, I fell in love with a woman- you never saw her-an Italian beauty, and all Rome raved about her, and I, I would have gone through Hades,"to have won a smile from her. Rut some wealthy foreigner come, and as they were so often seen in company with each other, I became furiously jealous, I I bought she cared for me, but preferred tliis man, on account of his wealth. 1 ac quainted her of the fact that I was near est of kin to tlie wealthy Signor Massino and incase he died without heirs, I w mid succeed to his estate. After this, she seemed to favor my suit more, though never relinquishing her hold on the for eigner. Well, about this time my kins man. gour husband died, and only his in fant daughter stood between nu and afflu ence. Ah! what temptation will not a man yield to when subjected to that temptation liy the woman he would move heaven and earth to possess, and when that woman is the prize, if he succeeds!” She had risen, and was standing with clasped hands and pale face, gazing into the face of the sufferer. ‘ / stole that child!" She reeled and clutched the bed for support. "Weil?” came faintly from (lie white lips. lie partially raised himself on one elbow and in king fixedly at the colorless face so near iiis own: “Leonora Massino, tlie costly marble monument you had erected over that little grave does not cover thu dust of your child!” She remained pofectly silent, and seemed waiting for him to speak, as some dreamer, who is half conscious, lie is dreaming, and dreads to move lest some sweet vision be dispelled by waking. “I said I stole her, ytjt.l intended, if finding no other way, returning her to you myself, under an assumed name, in order to prevent your suspecting mo— ! when you had offered a sufficient ransom for tlie child. 1 bribed the nurse, and together with threats, procured her as sistance, and secrecy. Well, tlie child was missing, enquiries were made and search instituted. You had just witnessed tlie death of your husband under painful circumstances, in your then distracted state of mind, I. had a-great advantage over you. The nurse first pretended to miss the little one, and came in your room looking for her. You had not sycji iter. Search was made, slje could fiql> lift* iftuud on the promises. Some beggar ft.nl .stolen her, or site had rambled off, the given, (?te rfty ransacked over, a week passed, still net found, and what was more to me, no ransom anything like what 1 had expected been offered —not sufficient to tempt me. 1 was becoming hneasy, alarmed, constantly afraid too that the nar.se would reveal all. About this time, l came upon a family of the poorest people i ever saw. The mother held in her arms an infant child about the age of yours. It. was dead. She began begging for alms, pointed to the naked children and drunken Jiusband. I told her if she would give the dead infant to me, it should bo buried in great state, etc., offering to her such reasons for my strange request as I deemed necessay and promising to them a considerable sum of money, gained my point. I took the body and dressed it in the clothes of your child arid laid it in the Tiber. Then paying the woman who had kept your lathy for me, a sufficient sum to take her to her relatives-in Ireland, I got her to take the the little.' one with tier, thus getting rid of it and her. 1 saw tlie nurse and forced her to write a note and leave in your room, explaining the real loss of the child or pretending to, that she was out with it, hull put it down to run about, and that it had wandered to the river and failed in while she was not noticing, and from fear of being punished for such criminal care lessness had not told it sooner. Then 1 sent her away, and well recompensed, fur i could now command a considerable for tune, having not only gotten rid of all the rest and the child too, lhere was nothing left to hinder my taking possession at once. You found that note, the river was searched, tlie body of a female child was found, you recognized the clothing though tlie body was past recognition. That child was buried for yours. That woman! Diable take her! She deceived me, and married the foreigner. You know what a life I’ve lived since; this thing continually on my mind; no rest ex cept when beastly drunk. There’s not a dissipation in which i haven’t indulged, bul 1 can stand it no longer.” “Oh, my child!” cried tlie lady. “Tell mo, where is she?” “I kept up with her, knew her where abouts, until some years. 1 then em ployed a sort of artist, who was going in that part of the country, to find out where she was and let me know, lie did so. After that I lost sight of them, and it was only recently that I discovered her again—stop, madam, don’t interrupt me. let me finish wtiile I’ve strength. 1 wan dered into the studio of that artist,, tlie people are making such a furor about— Athlone —and there I saw a face that re minded me so forcibly of Massino that I enquired of him where he had seen a face like that. From what, 1 could learn from him, that is the portrait of your daughter —go to him, ask all about it. I would ; risk my hopes of heaven ’tis her’s —rio I great risk though.” | “filestore her to me —tell me truly if what you say is true, arid you shall have all the wealth—” “You forget I can’t live to enjoy it— besides, I don’t want it, it's been the • curse of my life now. Say you forgive j me?” ' “I do, as I hope to bo forgiven, re- j plied the lady. _ ; “I have ever been on tlie eve of dis- j closing the truth, and lor that reason ] have tried to keep trace of her. Now, I . think I can ‘shuffle off this mortal coil’ better satisfied,” and lie really looked re lieved. She could not find it in her heart to upbraid this man for the suffering lie had caused her, when she looked upon his face and saw that what lie said was too true, that “death had marked him for iiis own” indeed. Was she once more to ffild to her bosom, tlie darling she had mourned as dead ? With a lighter heart than she had known for years she took leave of the sick mnn and sought the studio of Atli lone. The crowd had long ago dispersed ami when she again entered, siie found Frank quire alone. She frankly stated the cause of her visit, and learned enough from that gen tleman in regard to the subject of the sketch In confirm the belief awakened by the disclosures of fiaroli, yet she would not deceive her heart with vain hopes, she would be patient, time would show. “If l am destined to aid in restoring your daughter to you, madam, by having once been so foitunate as to have her a subject for my skill, .1 shall have cause to be proud indeed,” said Athlone. “Twice have I been here and each time lias this sweet countenance seemed to follow me. I suppose it is because it im pressed me so deeply at first is why the recollection clings to m.> afterward. All! near seventeen years since, a baby face with starry eyes smiled sweetly up into my face and nestled against my heart.” Scarcely one short week had elapsed when young Lord Kimiemore, with iiis lovely bride, astonished < ur friend Frank by walking unann unoed right in upon i him. “This is indeed a happy surprise,” lie exclaimed, extending a hand to each. After the greeting, and explanation-,, etc., Frank lost no time in conveying to the Signora the intelligence of their ar rival. During tlie week previous to tlie coming of Eugene and Katie, Leonora Massino had written to her old school mate, Lady Kitmomoto, acquainting her of what wo have just made the patient reader aware, and asking her assistance in clearing up the mystery, and proving the identity of this “Fisherman's Daugh ter.” So when a short time later, Lady Ivin nemore received a let ter from her son and j she was not surprised to find t hat her son Jrad married the daughter of her dear frieiid, Leonora Waters. • • There is not a happier ho:: -ftp-day hi the old capital than that over wnieh pre sides the uiiisie-voicod Italian lieau’ty, Lady lone, as she is now called by liar thousand dear friends. But to her de voted husband, she is ever still the same Katie. And in her inmost heart, will ever linger gratefi i remembrances of the only parents her childhood over knew. The Signora never goes now to weep at the little grave which bears on the snowy marble, tlie name, “lone Massino.” Frank is happy now in tlie home of his own; whoso household angel is one of' sunny Italy’s beautiful daughters. Never again will the heart-hungry mother part with her treasure, until death lias written against her life ur those off tlie starry-eyed lone. (the end. ) How a Woman reads a Newspaper. Somebody says that one who watches a woman read a newspaper will get some new ideas on the characteristics of tlie gentler sex. She takes it up hurriedly and begins to scan it over rapidly, as though she was hunting some particular thing; hut she is not. Fhe is merely taking in tiie obscure paragraphs which half believes wore put in out of tlie-way places for tlie sole purpose of keeping her from seeing them. As she finishes each one, her countenance brightens with the comforting reflection that she has out witted tlm editor and the whole race of men, for she cherishes a vague belief that newspapers arc the enemies of her sex, and editors it* chief oppressors. She never reads the head lines, and the huge telegraph heads she never even sees. She is greedy for local news, and devours ft with tlie keenest relish. Marriages and deaths are always interesting reading t(i her, and advertisements arc exciting and stimulating. She cares hut little f/ir printed jokes, unless they reflect ridieple upon the men, and then she delights in them, and neve rforgets them. Shefpays particular attention to anything eneflosed by quotation marks, and cmisidf-rs it rather good authority than anything; first handed. The column iuwhith tbvplfcor airs his opinions in leuded 'jiiJahuiij abe rarely reads. Views are of no im.pijnV.'.nce in hoi esti mation, hut facts ai;e everything. She generally read? poetry. Khe doesn’t al ways care for it, but she makes a practice of reading i t because she thinks -lie ought to. She reads stories, and sketches, and paragraphs indiscriminately, and believes every word of them. Finally, after she has read every word she intends to, she lays the paper down with an air of disap pointment, and a half’copiteiuptuous ges ture, which says very plainly that, she thinks all newspaper^miserable failures, but, is certain if she; hud tlie chance she coSlil make tlie only! perfect newspaper tlie world lias crcryfyton. Boxing tlie eT.I i.s an inexcusable bru tality; many ii fYliid has been made deaf for life by it, because the “drum of tlie ear” i.s a meiiil/rano, as thin as paper, stretches like a curtain just inside the ex ternal entrance of the ear. There is noth ing but air jwst behind it and any violent concussion liable to rend it in two, and tlie “hearing” is destroyed forever, lie cause the .sense of hearing i.s caused by the vibrations of this drum or “tympanum.” f •-*- Y'uu need The Gazette! NUMBER 27. Having Fun. There’s generally about six of them in the bunch (says an exchange), witli light (tresses on, and they have their poles with as many hooka and-lines among them, As soi n us they get to the river bank they look for a good place to get down on the rafts, and the most venturesome one sticks her boot heels in the bank and makes Two careful stop downs; then she suddenly finds herselfat the bottom with both hands in the water and a feeling that every body in this wide world is looking at lair, ami .she novel'.'to lls unyhody how she got there. The other girls, profiting bv here xainple, turn around and go down the bank on Llieir hands and toes, back ward. Then they scamper over the rafts until they find a .'hallow place where they can ■ see the fish, and shout: ! “U! I see one.” ! “Where?” “There.” “Oh, my ! so he is.” “Let’s catch him,” , ‘Who's got them baits?” You lazy thing, you’re sitting on my pole. ” “Show me the wretch that stoic my worm!” All these exclamations are gotten off in a tone that awakens every echo within a mile round, and sends every fish within I lirce acres square into galloping hysterics. Then tlie girls, Ly sqpei'huiiiun exertions, manage to get a worm rfn toe hook and “throw in wit h a splash liko tlie launch ing el a wash! uh, and await the result. When a silvorlin comes along and nibbles tiit! bait, they pull up with a jerk that, had an unfortunate fish weighing less than fifteen pounds• been on tire hook, would have landed it in the neighborhood of three or four miles in the country. After a while a foehlo-iniuded suufisli contrives to get fastened bn the Hook of a timid woman, and she gives vent to her Longue:, “Oli, something's got my hook!” “Pull up, you little idiot!” shouted five excited voices as poles and hooks are dropped, and tlioy rush to the rescue. The girl witli tlie Lite gives a spasmodic jerk, which sends the unfortunate sunny into the air the full length of forty feet of line, and lie comes down on the nearest curly iiead with a damp flop that sets tlie girl to clawing as though there wer<siuiu blebees in her hair. “Oeli! murder! take it away. Hgb! the nasty thing!” {iflien they hold up their skirfs and gather around that fish as it skips over the logs, one all the time holding the line in both hands, with her loot, on the pole, as though she had an evil-disposed goat at the other end. They talk over it. “How ever will he get off?” “Ain’t it pretty?” “Wonder if it ain’t dry?” “Poor little tiling, let’s put it, hack.” “Pick it up,” says a girl who bucks rapidly out of the circle.” “Good gracious, I'm afraid of it. There it’s opening its mouth at me.” Just then the sunny wriggles off tlie hook and disappears between two logs into the water, and the girls try for an other hire. But tlie suu eo/ues down and fries the hacks of their necks, and they got three headaches in the party, and they all get cross and scold at the fish like so many magpies. If any unwary chub dares show himself in the water they poke at him with poles, iiiucb to iiis disgust. Finally they get mad all over and throw their poles away, hunt up tlie hiricli basket climb Up into the woods, where they sit around on the grass and cater pillars, and eat enough of dried beef and rusk and hard-boiled eggs to give a wood horse the nightmare; after which they compare notes about their beaux until sundown, when tboy go home and plant envy in the hearts of all their muslin dtflaiiie friends by telling them what “just a,splendid time” they had. Stop Your Worship of Money Bags! Every newspaper one takes up fi'ow-i --ilays is sure t o have something to say about “tlie millionaires of America”—the Asters, Vanderbilt, Stewart, Jones and Sharon, of Nevada, or Flood, O’Brien, McKay and Fair, of San Francisco and Nevada—each of whom is proclaimed to he worth from forty to one hundred mill ions, all made by himself. To haaJ-H'uifiooplo. who are thank ful for a Imre competency in these impe cunious times, tiiis tiling is getting to he somewhat monotonous in fact, some what of a bore. We have heard and read about these bloated money bags until we are surfeited with envy of their mighty wilos, and with the constantly recurring thought of how happy we could be with one of their incomes for a single fortnight —aye, for a single week, or for even a single day I But we implore our brethren of the pen and scissors to stop this gush of million aire literature. Let’s have a rest. It isn’t morally healthy to be always contem plating those glittering heaps. It leads to constant, violations of one of the com mandments about coveting other poeple’s surplus tilings. So let’s turn our attention to poor, hut honest people for a while. They are the sort that get into heaven easy; they are tlie sort we need not envy, but are bound to admire and love and tie to. They are the sort, too, that will he far more apt to divide with and hell) us when we run short or get into trouble than those heart less millionaires, of whom it was long ago said “that the souls of a thousand ofthem might dance together on the point of a cambric needle without jostling each other in tlie least!” - Kentucky Yenmnn.