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BLOOD POISON !
'flu Bottles of Another Blood Medi
cine Used—No Relief Until
B, Was Used,
"Hampton, Ga., June 1211), 1888.
Balm Oo .—Your 11. II It. has work*
r>, l on me like a charm. Three bottles have
done me more good than all doctors and 100*
♦ Kittlesof the most noted remedy. lam get
ting wM rapidly. All ulcers healed, no aching*
of iny hone*, no pains in my Imck, and mv
skin is becoming clear. The effect of 11. 11. li.
on my kid’u ys is something wonderful. My
friends are astonished. My family physician
says it is the only medicine Tev'ir lined suitt and
to my case. I would take pleasnrl in corres
ponding with .my one interested.] as 1 can’t
help praising It. It. It. Indeed id is a great
Blood Puifper. Give anyone mv Iddro***#'
may call for it. N\.
Address, BLOOD BALM 00.. Atlanta, Oa.,
or Summerville, (la.
*wluln l urd After Several I’msiriaii
FAILED.
On tlu- 28th day of April, William Sea
lock, 12 years of age, presented himself to l)r.
(lillam, desiring to know if It. 11. 11. would
cure him. He lives on Dr. L. A. Guild’s
I dace, near the cemetery, and tin ease is well
mown bv Dr. Guild, who lias particularly
noticed it.
The boy had a foul scrofulous ulcer involv
ing the entire elbow joint, with which lie had
been nMieted over twelve months. It had de
stroyed the superficial structure, slid was fast
approaching the deeper tissues. He could not
bend the arm, and had strong indications of
the same ulcerous condition of the shoulder.
Two other physicians of the city had tinted
the case, but without any perceptible change
in his condition, lit was placed upthe
treatment of 11. 11. 11 , and on* sing!*' bottle
cured the foul ulcer and restored the fbst de
generating condition of the child, add he is
now enjoying the finest of health.
This is a plain and unmistakable case of
well defined scrofula, and rccogn /ed as such,
cured with one single I ottlc of It. B. U.. and
we take pleasure in asking any interested party
t" address Dr. L. A. Guild, Atlant i, Ga., on
the subject relative value if the medicine in
this case.
If one well defined case of scrofula can Ik*
cured, other a cau U ■ur**-! als*.
BLOOD BALX.Gp.,
At lan tit*.
Hold in Summerville, by
IS THAT SO?
s. it's a fact, that oue large bottle of B. B.
B. costing only -1 is warrante l to produce as
i . . ‘li remedial effect- in the cure of all Blood
Poison os three bottle* of the most famous
blood modiciues of the day. Y< *, three to
one : that's the way we put it, and we are able
to back our word with strong evidence. B. B.
IJ. is the quick blood remedy?: and the re is no
mistake about it. The propf is printed—the
liat lias gone forth the tocsin has been sound
ed, and •'liethat hall* cars to hear, let him
hear.”
hew Home
q- vjingV^
6
never
I TJ'Otffc' OUTOF ORDER,
no eguAi- 75-^^-=-
NEWHOhe^- macH i N £Q
I 3QOBIION SQUARE NEWYORK
c ,*Wo
lU MASS GA.
rOR SALE BY
Ir* HA Li K & CAIN,
SUMMKRF ELD, GA.
POO
Yost-Office orders from mil portions of
ti e country v "and secure a supply of
BONKOCTXE, t'.ie only safe, quick and
positive cure 1 r acute and chronic
■Gonorrh'? a cud Clcct ever used. Cures
effected i:n v r fve day?, requiring no
internal re medies, no change cf diet,
or loss of time. Its action deetro;. :; and
antagonizes every atom of venereal
poison with whi h it comes In con
tact, and is harmless to healthy pans
POO
A order for SI.OO win buy
three bottle fl> r.IKOCJSE, th only
harmless’ vegetable compound ever
offered which positive!*.- cures and pre
vents the contagion ofarvand ull ve
nereal diseases.
The constant, persevering and uni
versal u.-c oi this r* :. -dy would effect
ually wipe out all venereal di-cases
from the f.-.ce < f the c-arth, < and G.
can r.ei :!kt lie contr.ic; l n *r exist
when Lit uwd, been : • it and- troys by
mere contact. It allays all rain, sub
dues the inflammation and promotes
quiet slumbers.
POO
A well known railroad , r writes a*
follows:
Atlanta , Ftt.'y 11. ISMS.
Bonkodnt-i.'o.:—" Ja-:. - nnaryl
commenced the use of K‘ INh
for a tael ease of *l. wliieh had * ‘allied
the tvm Olid medicines -.1 Ji
dans.aml three bottle- cured rnosound
nr.d well I!' •) no thee, used :: . oilier
remedy and did not chtinec mv diet
It Is a blessing to those who i aili.s are
not bright.'’
Discard nil capsules oopabla, etc.,ana
use that which never fails, W>d will
keep you cured for life by acting as a
preventive.
One bottle $l. r u, or three* for SI.OO.
gold by druggists. Lxpr and on re
ceipt cf price.
IyjNKOCTNE GO..
ib;i WhiteLali - creek
Atlanta* du
@hc 3ttmnimiiUc (Dnjette.
VOL. X.
BILL MAHON'S liRIDJS.
Ilalf an hour till train time, sir,
An’ a fearful dark time, too;
Take a look at the switch-lights,
Fetch in a stick when you go through,’
‘On time V” Well, yes, I guess so—
Left the last station all right—
She’ll come round the curve a fly in’;
Bill Mason comes up to-night.
You know Bill? No! lie’s an engineer;
Been on the road all his life—
I’ll never forget the morning
lie married his chuck of a wife.
Twaa the summer the mill hands struck—•
Just off work, every oue;
They kicked up a row in the village,
And killed old Donovan’s son.
Bill lufdn’tbeen married more’n an hour,
Up comes the message from Kress,
Orderin’ Bill to go up there
And bring down the night express,
lie left his gal in a hurry,
And went on number otie,
Thinking of nothing blit Mary
And the train he had to run.
And Mary sat down by the window
To waif for the night express;
And, Rir, if she hadn’t ’a * done so,
Slic’d been a widow, 1 guess.
For it must ’a’ been nigh midnight
When the mill hands left the liidge—
They came down, the drunken devils!
Tore a rail from the bridge.
But Mary heard ’em a-workin’,
And guessed there was something wrong.
And m less than fifteen minutes,
Bill’s train it would be along.
She couldn't come here to tell us,
A mile -it wouldn’t ‘a’ done—
So she jest grabbed up a lantern
And made for the bri Ige alone.
Then down came tin* night express, sir—
And Bill was matin’ her climb!
But Mary held the lantern,
A-swinging it all the time.
Well, by Jove ! Bill saw the signal,
Anl li stopped die night express,
And Im* found hi-* Mary cryin’,
On the track, in her weddiiv dress—
Cryin' and laughin' for joy. sir,
An' boldin' on t>* the light—
Hello! here’s the 1 1 ain -good-by, sir,
Bill Mason's on time to n ght.
Dusts ll arts.
nm LILY OF THE GLEN.
In one of the most beautiful of New
England's shady dells, far away from
the din and dust of the city, musical
with tho song of brooklet and bird, ami
fragrant with breathings of trees and
(lowers, hidden almost gut of sight by
the old gray mountains, lies the fair lit
tle village of Glen. And in one of its
sunniest spots, sheltered by elms ot a
century’s growth, mossy itself with un
counted years, over-run with luxuriant
vines and embosomed in roses, stands
the fairy little cottage, where dwelt the
pride of the village—its fair young Lily
-an orphan from the hour of her birth,
hut so loved by her aged grandparents
that the name lmd never a meaning.
Beautiful ub the flower whoso name
she bore was tho Lily of the Glen, and
as holy and shrinking in nature, too,
breathing out her sweetness in lonely
places, and coveting ever the lonely seat.
Scarce more was she idolized in the hum
ble home whose life and light and beauty
she was, than in every other one of the
scattered village; for wherever she went
she carried a blessing, and from every
threshold bore one, too, now from the
crowing lips of a baby face, and then
from tho quivering ones of wrinkled age.
Bure in heart, not dazzlingly but softly
brilliant in intellect, gentle and loving,
r or eighteen years the maiden had led
that happy life which only the good and
true can know—a sunny life, scarcely
darkened by n single cloud—a flowery
one, scarcely pricked byasiugle thorn—
a holy one, seareedy touched by a single
sin.
But her heart was saddened then.
First one and then the other aged rela
tive grew sick, and for many weeks they
Iny side by side on the same couch,
moaning in feverish dreams. Patiently
and tenderly did tho young grandchild
nurse, them, heeding their slightest
wish, and giving np cheerily the de
mands of her pulse, that she might be
ever with them, and striving with all
love’s earnestness to win them back from
he valley whose shades seemed vailing
them. And even in the last fearful hour,
though her heart was sore aud bleeding,
she calmed herself and sung in sweet,
though tremulous strains, the hymn they
asked for, that on the breath of music
their souls might bo wafted into heaven.
But then, when all was over, her
strength gave way, and for weeks she lay
like a frost-bitten flower; her cheeks like
snow and her lips voicelss. Yet, though
alone in the world then, never had an
invalid kinder and more considerate
care. There was none in the whole vil
lage that did not render her some ser
vice, happy to pay back a debt of love,
and sad that it must bo paid in such a
way. And when at length she recov
ered, and on the arm of the gray-haired
pastor, slowly passed up the aisle of the
little church to the seat that had been
vacant for nearly a year, there went np
from every heart a thanksgiving to the
Father in Heaven, and when her sweet,
lute like voice rose and fell in waves of
thrilling melody, as she joined in the
grand old hymn, tears of joy streamed
fast from many eyes, and when the ser
vice v/as over, and tho little group
passed out of the holy place, every right
hand was kindly clasped by her, and
from every lip there fell a blessing.
But one among them did not greet
her, though his gaze followed her intently
from the moment she entered till she
left. It was a stranger, a tourist, who,
charmed by tho rural beauty of the glapsj
had resolved as the stage left him thk
on Saturday evening, to speus a few
days in rambling about in sunny spots
aud sketching its picturesquelrtvers; a
highly-gifted, noble young man,’dow
eled with a princely fortune, who, bay-
SUMMERVILLE, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY EVENING, NOVEMBER 28. 1883.
ing completed his collegiate course, had
nought to do but while away his time in
the most agreeablo way. But, now,
surfeited with the pleasures of fashiona
ble life, he had turned away to seek in
communion with Nature and her true
hearted children that congeniality for
wliieh his spirit had longed but had not
found, either in his aristocratic home or
his wealthy friends.
His mother had been one of those spirit
ually organized beings to whom holiness
of life and devotion to duty ore as necessi
tous as breath, aud though spared to
him but seven brief yenrs, she so in
wrought her nature into his that all the
unfortunate circumstances of later years
could not eradicate it—the angel sung
so sweetly in tho far depths of his bosom
that the syren voioes of temptation
sounded to him ever liko hideous dis
cords.
The proud lady who, oro two years
had left their greenness on his mother’s
grave, was installed as mistress of her
home, gave no affection to tho dining
boy, whilo his fattier, a stern, grave,
taciturn man, though deep in his heart
there welled strong waves of passionate
feeling, manifested them only by seeing
that his temporal condition was well
eared for, and so he grew to manhood,
filled with affectionate yearnings, hut
with none to breathe them upon, and
only uttering them upon tho low grassy
mcund where slept the gentle being
who had given him life.
Once indeed his spirit thought it had
found its mate. There flitted into the
brilliant saloons of fashion a radiant
young creature, who seemed the incar
nation of a poet's dream, and whose
spell soon hound the youthful Reuben.
But ere many months the charm was
broken. She proved but a gay coquette,
and after toying with many hearts, final
ly surrendered to wrinkled age, barter
ing herself for gold. Reuben had be
lieved he loved her, but when the dream
was so rudely broken, he found his heart
was fetterless —ho hail loved not her, lmt
the creation of his own soul Who he had
fancied was embodied there. For a time
indeed ho scorned the other sex, hut ere
long the vision of his own sweet mother
came to him in such vivid light, that la
felt he stained himself with sin to tliiid
even harshly of those to whom she wa>
bound by the ties of sisterhood, and la
said within himself, ‘T will seek liet
counterpart, and finding it, be happy.’
So Lord Burleigh-like, he went about a;
a traveling artist, and in the wild <>;
beautiful of nature, as chanced th„
scene, his spirit drank in peace, and tho
angel in his heart sang dearer and more
thrillingly.
Such was hewwho, in tho little church
of Glen, had watched no closely its frail
Lily. Her loveliness, ever bewitchingiy
delicate, was enhanced by the paleness
of convalescence, and she seemed to the
young man liko one of those sainted
ones of whom he used to dream when
in his boyish sorrow ho nestled on the
couch where his mother's spirit had de
parted. There was no guile, ho felt, in
those heavenly eyes, no mocking taunt
would ever sing from lips liko here—nay,
there was a purity oi soul visible in her
very mien.
“Who is she?” asked he, ns he walked
homo with tho inn keeper; “who is that
fair young creature who seems the
adopted child of the church? She willkr
\jfore us with the old pastor.”
“Shelias another name, lmt we only
call her Lily or the Lily of the Glen, a
homeless girl now, without a relative on
earth, and yet she will never want, for
anything, for, humble as we are, we will
ever make room for her by our hearths
and in our hearts, for sho is au angel
whom we cannot entertain without t>
blessing 1”
The young man shut himself in )iis
room and mused upon her. In his wild
est dreams he had fancied nothing earth
ly so ethereal, and he felt that could lie
hut clasp that fragile Lily to his heait
its low murmuring moans would be
hushed forever.
The sunset flooded the Glen witli bril
liancy as he stole forth again, and long
ing for silent communion with the human
floweret who had entranced his soul, he
turned from tho pleasant, village street
and followed the banks of a little stream
that went singing along as though each
wave was a melody. Whither it led he
know not, but keeping the worn path he
found himself ere long opposite a little
grave-yard, whoso monuments had noth
ing to arrest attention, lmt whose quiet
beauty entranced one at a glance. Reu
ben leaned with folded hands on the
white stile and was soon lost in fresh
thought. Memory carried him back to
the day his mother died, and he saw
himself again in childish grief, bending,
half in wonder, half in awe, over the
open grave, and then kissing a white
rose-bud from a neighboring bush and
easting it on to the coffin, and then he
thought of the after visits ho had paid it
when itwas green and flowery,andremem
bered how many times he had wished he
could have slept beside her. Tears
streamed down his cheeks as he leaned
there; those holy tears which come un
bidden to wash the heart of the dust
| that has gathered on its beauty.
A- Suddenly ho started. A low, swoet
strain flitted by on the evening breeze,
and to his highly-wrought feelings it
seemed at first like the angel voice of
her he mourned. But he soon rallied
birnaeU, &ad Itotsma® closely, dieoeraed
that it came from a locust grove In a
distant corner of the yard, and ho felt
intuitively that it was tho night hymn
of the Lily sung over the grave of her
buried loves.
He forbore to disturb tho solemnity
of the spot by seeking the acquaintance
lie desired, and so he turned from the
stile, and passing on, threw himself on
a bank of violets lieside the stream, and
was soon lost in delicious rovery.
“A beautiful spring night, sir,” said
a mild voice soon, and starting up the
young man found himself face to face
with the aged pastor, on whose arm
leaned the fail - young mourner.
“You are a stranger, sir, I take it,
here. I noticed you in church, and I
should liavo spoken to you there, but 1
iuul no chance. YVo are plain, simple
people here, lmt mean to do our duty,
and if whilo you tarry I cun be of ser
vice, you may command mo.”
It was a courteous greeting, not so
muoli in words os in the fatherly man
ner of the gray-haired man, and Reuben
itTcrod his hand warmly and expressed
his thanks for tho kindness, and ns he
walked back to tho village with them,
charmed them with his high-toned
thoughts, anil the three were each re
gretful wlieu tho pastor’s gate was
reached.
“Let ns see you hero to-morrow,"
said he, as ho led tho Lily in, for she
was his dove-like blessing, “or to-niglit,
even, if apart from homo, a family altar
should ho longed for.”
“I havo longed forit since my mother
died,” said the young man with a touch
ing pathos.
“Gome with us then, sir. Wo have
few forms, but wo trust our hearts are
right;” and ho ushered Reuben into the
little study, aud for a while they sat
(here in tho calm moonlight, not con
versing with each other, but littering ns
they chanced, the holy thoughts which
hogged for au expression.
At an early hour an aged female do
mestic entered with lights, and drew a
stand to tho pastor’s sido. Ho turned
over the leaves of the family Biblo till
ho had selected a chapter, and then
passed it to tho young man, saying;
“My eyes grow dim; let mo borrow
yours ’’
Reuben took tho holy volume rever
ently, and read in clear, thrilling tones,
those glorious passages from Ht. John,'
commencing: "Let not your heart ho
troubled.” When he had closed, tlio
pastor turned to Lily for the hymn. It
quivered on her lips, but tho sacred
emotions of her heart were too powerful
for her weakened frame, and the words
hung there in uttered music. Reuben’s
keen ear had caught the strain, though,
and his rich voice harmonized fully with
t lie lofty words as ho sung it through.
Then tho aged man bent his knee and
prayed. And while he took in the
whole world in his petition, ho yet
pleaded earnestly and individually for the
geutje girl he had taken to his heart,
and for the stranger who worshiped
with them, and, subdued as his human
feelings were, tho young man was yet
conscious of a sudden thrill of joy when
ho heard himself thus coupled in solemn
prayer with the beauteous Lily.
(inly snatches of sleep came to him
that night; most of it was spent in
revery. And when he wont out on the
ensuing morning, life wore a changed
look to him. It had put on a majesty
that awed him, and yet that roused him
to aublimer views. The divinity within
him was aroused, not partiully, but
borough ly, and he resolved to heed
well its intuitive suggestions. JTe
ought out the aged pastor and revealed
to him his previous life, its longings, its
aspirations, its unquietness, and li is last
resolve, to seek him out a bride who
should give beauty and bliss to life.
“When I saw Lily yesterday,” said
he, “the poet’s charming story name
vividly to mind, and I resolved to woo
her as did the lord of the talc, in paint
r's dress, aud bear her to a princely
home when sho expected but an humble
cottage. But better thoughts havo been
awakened in mo. I would still win her,
if I can, hut not to lead her into fash
ion’s halls. They are not tho place for
one so spiritual as she. Home is the
sphere for one like her, and I would win
her to a home with mo, in this or some
other shady glen, and keep her my Lily
through my life.
“And this is not all, sir. I would learn
of you a pastor’s duties. My life thus
far liaß been an aimless one. I need not
work, for I havo wealth at my command,
but I wonhl consecrate myself to some
thing. My spirit has ever chafed at the
fetters I have thrown about it. I will
nntangle it, and let it have its will. Ami
at your feet, sir, I would study earnest
ly, faithfully, and pray that your lips
may ask God's blessing on me as I some
where kneel before my chosen people.”
“My son,” said the old man, solemnly,
“you have chosen well. Heaven hath
directed you hero as a guardian for Lily
and a student for me. These fifty years
I havo ministered here. I knew my
strength was failing and my senses grow
ing dim, but I could not bear to leave
my people with one who served their
Master from other than the holiest mo
tives, and so, tremulously I have per
formed my duties for a year or more.
My son, you shall commence this day
your studies. You are well trained aud
learned, and your heart ia right. It will
not take you long to fit yourself tospenk
to these simple, truthful Christians. I
shall he spared to stand beside you when
you first preach to them, mid then I shall
lie content to go. Como, let us begin.”
And from that day Reuben was an in
mate of the parsonage, aud that he pros
pered fast was no wonder either, for he
laid, ns lie said, an angel mid a saint for
guardians. There wore scornful looks
aud haughty words in his aristocratic
home, when his proud relatives heard
that the heir of their princely wealth
had turned student of divinity, and
would settle in nn obscure village, and
there was much wonder among his fash
ionable friends. But nothing could win
tho young man from his holy vows, and
night after night (ill tlio stars waned
did ho lean over his desk, that ho might
the sooner bo prepared for the pastor's
place, his only recreation being hi
walks and talks with tho gentle Lily.
Two years from tho day lie first en
tered tho little church as a stranger to
all, he was solemnly set apart to liV
holy work, the aged pastor’s trembling
hands being placed upon his head, as
with quivering lips he ordained him a
Christian minister; and the same low,
lute-like voice that entranced him then,
sang now tho hymn that confirmed the
rite.
At sunset, tho holy Sabbath sunset,
tho little church again was filled,
for before the altar stood tho youthful
pastor to take a uow vow to his heart,
sue that bade him “lovo and cherish till
dentil did them part,” tho gentle being
who unconsciously had woke liiH soul lo
tho sublimer view cf life—-a vow that,
whilo it changed the “girlish thing” to
a pastor’s bride, yet left, hor, as sho was
before, tlio Lily of the Glen.
Bead Reckoning.
Lieutenant Brown was the navigator
of tlio brig Perry of tho United States
navy a good many years ago, and on a
passage from China to Mexico ho al
lowed the chronometers (by which they
found the longitude) to run down. They
were bound to San Bias, and running to
make Gape St. Lucas, which is high and
can he seen a long way off. Tho cap
tain, Jot Stone Paine, was not told that
tho chronometers had run down ami that
they wore depending on dead reokonim
for tho longitude. Brown got on tlu
parallel of tho cape, and steering due
east kept a good look-out ahead. He
kept a foretopmau at the masthead with
orders to come down and tell him quietly
when ho saw the land, and not other
wise to announce it—promising him a
bottle of whisky in return. Accordingly
one day shortly before 12 o’clock the
foretopmau came down and reported the
land in sight from aloft. He was told
by Brown to return to tho masthead, and
when the bell struck one to report it in
the usual manner. A little after 12
o’clock tlio captain came out of the
cabin and said : “Well, Mr. Brown,
when do you think we will see land ?”
“Wo will make the land, sir,” said
lirown, “at half-past 12 o'clock,” (oue
hell).
“Wo will, eh ?” said tho captain.
“Yes, sir,” replied Brown, in his most
pompous manner, “at half-past 12 pre
cisely.”
Just then tho bell struck, and the
man at the masthead roared out in a
stentorian voice, “Land ho !”
“By George,” said Captain Jot,
“that's tho most remarkable landfall 1
over made !” aud he afterward told the
first lieutenant that ho considered
Brown one of the most skillfnl navigators
lie had ever met.
One Hundred Years Ago.
It was the 25th of November, 178”
a brilliant day, that an excited crowd
surged and shouted about Mr. Day’s
tavern in Murray street, near the road
to Greenwich. Cunningham, tho cruel
and vindictive British provost-marshal,
stood at the foot of tho (lag-pole, irorn
which floated tho stars aud stripes, the
flag of the new republic.
“Come, you rebel cur,” ho said to Mr
Duv, “I give you two minutes to haul
down that rag—l’ll have no such striped
clout as that flying in tho faces of nis
Majesty’s forces 1”
“There it is, and there it shall stay,”
said Day, quietly but firmly.
Cunningham turned to bis guard.
"Arrest that man,” he ordered. “And
as for this thing here I’ll haul it down
myself,” and, seizing the halyards, he
began to lower tho flag. The crowd
broke out into fierce murmurs, uncer
tain what to do. But, in the midst of
tho tumult, tho door of the tavern (lew
open, and forth sallied Mrs. Day, armed
with her trusty broom.
“Hands off that (lag, you villain, aud
drop my husband 1” she cried, and be
fore tlio astonished Cunningham could
realize the situation, the broom came
down thwack I thwack ! upon his pow
dered wig. Old men still lived, not
twenty years ago, who were boys in that
excited crowd, and remembered how tho
powder flew from the stiff white wig, and
how, amidst jeers and laughter, the de
feated provost-marshal withdrew from
the unequal contest, and tied before tlio
resistless sweep of Mrs. Day’s all-con
quering broom. — St. Nic/uilaa for No
vember.
A scientist says that in the moon a
hickory nut falling from a bough would
crash through a man like a miirie ball,
f’hat settles it. Wo shall never go to
the moon to gather hickory nuts. —
Norristown /Jerald,
AT THU END OF A WAR.
Trick IMnycil ly ihn llrlllsli wlicn I ’icy
were liCiiviiijf this Country*
A never-to-be-forgotten incident oc
curred when tho American column,
headed by General Washington and
Governor Clinton, approached the Bat
tery as tho British army left it, at the
close of tho Revolutionary \V if. Lieu
tenant Glean lmd been ordered by Com
modore Grimiel to raise the American
standard on the staff where tho English
ensign had keen heretofore Hying. The
evening before the British had unreeved
the halyards, broke off the stopping
cleats, and slush* and the flagstaff. The
flagstaff stood on .Fort George, at tho
north end or bastion, dose to tlio Bat
tery. (Several men tried to climb tho
stall’, which was as slippery as ice, but
ill vain. A young sailor boy named Van
Arsdaln made three attempts, got up
about three feet and slipped down again.
Then several persons ran to Goelet’s
hardware store on Hanover square and
got a handsaw, hatchet, gimlet and nails.
One sawed lengths across a board, one
split the cleats and another bored them
until there was plenty to use. The sailor
boy tied tho halyard around liis waist,
tilled his outside pockets full of oleats
aud then begun at the ground to nail
them in on the right and left of the (lag
staff. As ho ascended higher ho nailed
tlio cleats on, and then, reaching the
top, he rovo the halyards and descended.
The flag was immediately run up, amid
a salute of thirteen guns and tlireo thun
dering cheers from tlio multitude assem
bled. Tho time spent in preparing to
hoist the flag was a period of intense
interest and suspe: so. Tho English
vessels were moving down the lmy and
spreading their canvas to the wind, and
it was passionately desired to let them
see the American standard waving over
the city before they 1< ft. The sailor hoy
was given a more substantial token of
approval than mere applause, those
present, from General Washington down
to the plainest citizen, cheerfully con
tributing to a collection for his benefit.
The son of the sailor boy David Van
Arsdaln is non iwniglit inspector in tho
Barge Office in Now York.
Another incident, related by an eye
witness of the scene, may servo lo illus
trate tlio reluctance with which the
British quitted their hold of the city
which they had so long claimed ns their
own. By the conditions agreed upon
the city was to ho surrendered at noon,
lmt an impatient shopkeeper in the
neighborhood of Chambers street an
ticipated tho arrangement and hoisted
tho American flag during the course of
the morning. Provost Marshal Cun
ningham hastened to the spot and con
fronted tho proprietor. “Pull down
that flag,” ho exclaimed, with an oath;
“the city belongs to tho British till
noon.” Tho man objected, hesitated,
and was on the point of yielding, when
the good woman of the house came to
tho rescue. “The flag shall not eomo
down," said she. Cunningham stormed
and swore, and finally attempted to tear
down the colors with his own hands; hut
the woman assailed him so vigorously
with a broomstick, striking a cloud of
powder from his wig at every blow, that
lie was forced at last to abandon the field
and leave tho American flag unmolested.
A Long Game.
A singular game of chess lias just
been finished in the north of Scotland.
Tho game was begun about twelve
months ago in the city of Brooklyn, N. Y.
The first player, Mr. J. B. Munoz, made
a move, and then passed tho scoring
sheet on by post to a friend. That
friend made a move in reply, and then
passed tho paper on by post to another
well-known player, who made a move
in continuation. In this way the docu
ment found its way to Baltimore, Md.,
where Mr. Sellman, who played lately
in tho London tournament, added a
move aud sent the paper on to Jamaica,
N. Y. From Jamaica it was sent to
England, and, after passing through
the hands of well-known players in Lou
don and other towns, who each added a
move, it began a tour among tho chess
players of Scotland. After traveling as
fur north as Dali willing ton, the docu
ment was sent back to Sheriff Speiis of
Glasgow. That gentleman examined
tho position, and decided that the game
was lost for white, as black could forco
an exchange of rooks and win with the
pawns. He therefore returned the gamo
to the first player, Mr. J. B. Munoz,
who now sent it to London to be pub
lished as a curiosity in the Chess Mont li
ly, where it has just appeared. Tho
scoring sheet hears tho signatures of
several players, who each made a move
in tho game, and the document shows
that it passed from hand to hand through
thirty-two towns and citios of England,
Scotland aud America.
A WniPMNO. —'The Indianapolis po
lice were told that a man was whipping
his wife in a tenement block near the
heart of the city; but instead they found
tho wife, arrayed iu only ono garment,
cowhiding her husband. Ho was once
Superintendent of the State Institute in
Ohio. Lately he had been reduced by
drink, until liis wife had to support her
self. She told tho officers tliut the doc
tor had reached homo drunk, and that,
patience having ceased to ho a virtuo,
she had resorted to tho cowhide to bring
bits to his senses,
NOTES AND COMMENTS.
Tins is the question that troubles a
French Justice of tho Peaco. A drover
and a butcher in tlio market adjusting
their accounts wont to a tavern to dine
together. During tlio meal tho butcher
took rroin his pocket a bank note of 100
franca value, wherewith to pay tho
drover, but in handing it over let it fall
in a dish of gravy. lie snatched it out,
and holding it botween a thumb and
forefinger, waved it to and fro to dry it.
The drover’s dog accepting this move-
as a friendly invitation, and liking
the smell of tho saturated note, made a
spring at it and swallowed it. The
butcher was furious. “ Give me my
money,” lie demanded. “Kill tho dog
ami open him." “Not by a blanked
sight,” replied tho drover ; “ my dog is
worth more than 100 francs.” “ Then I
owe you nothing. Your dog has col
lected for you before witnesses.” “My
dog is not my cashier. And besides,
where is your receipt?” “The Justice
will have to settlo this.” “Let him.”
Ami now for weeks the Justice has
been seeking law or precedent for such a
a ease, and tho townsmen have been on
the verge of riot over it again and
TEUII.
At a ki : .unj,on op the original Aboli
tionists in New York, the ijtory was told
about an attempt to break up the meet
ing at the Broadway Tabernacle fifty
years ago by Capt. Isak Bynders. The
captain, who is now about 80 years old,
says tire story told was not tmo, and
says: —“1 got mad at Garrison beoauso
lie nil infidel, and ho made somo
blasphemous remark about Jesus Christ.
He also used some insulting language
alioutpresident Taylor. I would not
listen without protest to their blasphem
ous language. I di/f jump on the plat
form and grab Garrison by the collar,
and I did say to him, ‘ If you say that
again I will throw you off' the platform,
and 1 would havo done it. I was not
afraid of anybody in thoso days. I had
no gang with me, and us for any organ
ized attack on the meeting there was
none, except what was done by me
alone.”
A Chicago hackman, who has a pleas
ant face and winning ways, has, accord
ing to tho Chicago Ilcrald, gained
SI - 1,000 from his business in the past ten
years. His eye falls on a countryman
gi (ting out of tho train to make his first
visit to the city. The hackman engages
to show tho stranger around town fora
dollar. Ere they reach a clothfhg store
lie has persuaded his customer to' buy a
new suit of clothes, awl then the two
must necessarily go to a shomaker's to
gi I boots to match. And so the hack
man trots liis man around until the city
has been seen, aud tho rural visitor feels
grateful to the man who has taken so
much pains with him. In tho evening
the hackman goes to tho traders and
d> aws his commissions.
A notable niiUNKMin who recently
died in Paris in his seventieth year kept
a record Of his potations for half a cen
tury, so that mankind have au opportun
ity of estimating tho amount of abuse
which a phenomenal organization is able
to endure. IJis daily allowance of wine
wus four bottles, so that in fifty years ha
emptied a total of 73,000 bottles. Ho
e mill never oat until ho had taken a
di . ni of absinthe, and as he had three
meals a day ho must have swallowed
51,750 drams of that poison during the
fifty years. But in addition to all this
lie found it convenient to drink doily
about twelve small glasses of liquor, ora
n.t ul of 211), 000 glasses in the half century.
Ills oldest acquaintances declare that
tin y never saw him perfectly sober. A
fine career certainly for this nineteenth
e 'litury of grace I
The OENfaUs or 1880 gives tho total
population of Austria and Hungary at
37,780,216, of which number 22,144,244
belong to Austria and 15,642,002 to
Hungary. Divided into nationalities,
the population of the two countries con
sists, in round numbers, of 10.000,000
lermans, 7,000,000 Czechs and Morav
ians, 6,200,000 Magyars, 4,200,00050rv0-
Croats, 3,300,000 Poles, 3,200,000 Ruth-g
emails, 2,500,000 Roumanians, 1,200,006
Slovenians, and 680,000 Italians. Clas
sified according to their religious tenets,
there are 29,753,169 Catholics of the
Roman, Greek, and Oriental Churches,
3,450,000 Orthodox Greeks, 2,130,000
Protestants of tho Helvetic confession,
1,450,000 Protestants of the Augsburg
confession, and 1,640,000 Israelites.
He that does not know those things
which are of use and necessity for him
to know, is an ignorant man, whatever
he may know besides.
■ 1 1 "t- J -
dM2SEasamsamßummßmmmmmmß^
Nerve-life and Vjger
- rbstoubd.-
This cut ehows tba
Howard Electric
§5 Magnetic Shield
r-? as applied over the Kid
/K ' IM,. noyanwl Nervo-vltal
cilr] JI centers. Tne only up
pllance made Hint
jr^ 15tH ivef y P nrt ot
f the body, and the
A— only one needed to
§ \ IKT 5 POSITIVELY CURB
I A & Jr. j ; llldiieyJDlaoaao
vL „„„ I <ltli eii mathin,
® OF THE I II yspcpulu.
Af f.a \ tho worst cases oi
\i | g Eft pi Seminal Weak
*ls® I ies* KxJhauu*
II Hon, Impotent
\ IY'L/sldWeak*:
{ WIfiPiCSWpq i noof thcllrlno
\ 0* jr 0 Lie,trial Organs.
[Patented Fob. 2S, 1879.] ■■ M
YOUN'O MKN, from early Indiscretion, lack
nerve force and fail to attain strength.
MIDDLE-AGE!) MEN often lack vigor, attribut
ing It to the progress of years.
The MOTHER, WIFE and MAID, suffering from
Female Weakness, Nervous Debility anil other ail
mente, will Hod it the only cure.
To one anil all we say that tho Shield gives a nat-
Ur WHTHOL-T DRuSSnG THE STOMACH.
Warranted One Vear, and tiro bca*
aapilanec made.
Illustrated Pamphlet, THREE TYPES OF MEN.
also Pamphlet for Ladies only, sent on receipt of
Go, sealed; unsealed, FREE.
American Galvanic Cos.,
fi rrSfl TO s 134 Madison St., Chicago*
UaT‘ufct>|ll*>3 Chestnut St., Plalla.
NO 45