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POO Post-Office order* from all portion* of tie country will Pceuro a supply of BON'KOCIXE, the only safe, quick and po&itivo euro fr • ito and chronic Uonorrha a ami elect ever used. Cures cflfected I’.nder live days, requiring no Internal remedies no claM*o of diet, t*r ltmcf time. Its action destroy* and ant& Quizes every a'.o:n of venereal poison with which it co.nos in con tact, oiid is harmless to healthy part* POO A Fost-Ofllce order for $ 1.00 will buy three bottles of ItOXKtx INK, the only harmless vegetable compound ever offered v hieh positively euros and pro vents the contagion of at'vand ail ve nereal disejLM'S. The constant, persevering and tmf ▼ersul i. 00l this ret* -ly would efftoct ually wipo out nil vein real diseases from the f cc of tlio earth. i and G. can nci'hcr be centric 1 nor exist when it i.i t ad, Kcause it destroys by mere contact. Tt allays all pain, *ub due, tho inflammation and promotes quiet slumbers. POO A well known railroader writes a* follows; Atlanta. Frn'v ■;!, I*B3. Bonkodnef o.:— •* ha ; v.nuaryl ©ouun'.r.ccd UiO u.vi of i, in K INK for a bed coz of G. which lmd baffled the skill and medicines *f live physi dans.and three hnttit* curd me sound and well Ile tno time, u --,1 n .other remedy i.nd did not chance my diet. It 1* a bloving to those w hose paths are not bright.” Discard: .11 rapaulcs. copnbia, etc.,and use that which never fails, nnd will keep y u cured fur life by acting as a proven 'm . One bottle ft.'<o, or three f"r Ff.oo. Bold by druggl- ta. Expressed o re ceipt of price. lijN’KOCrXE ( 0„ 78>i Whitehall Street, Atlnn Go. .T. 8 CU OHORN & CO. 'Msm heiHome c) OS No EQUAI NEW home HACmHEG J 30 UNION SQUARE NEWYORK. <^ 0A o o J.-U-A Nf lUL. MASS. GA. TOR SALE BY 1 \ i.i; tV. vj A1 N , SrMMERVtM.K, (1A Nerve-Life and Vigor - RESTORED.- t>—* This cut shows th “ fpiUiasm Howard Electric §5 Magnetic Shield J as applied over the K!d I j’mr neyaaitdNervo-vital p-.~t M centers. Tne only np j^* aricu Tna d‘‘ that the body, and the ■ a m mar\ only one needed tc ■ \ 1 In { POSITIVELY Ct ni 1W * * JgL } Ki<!n-} IMm hac i , I It Ii e(i inutlMn, WL OF THE / I) yspepsla aaJ the worst cases oi AmSI Semina! Weak Q ljlJwil *ufr ness, Kalian* tion, Impoteii lßhu°WAi*Vipill | <*>* an<l l,!w ea*eand Weak , V no**of the (Jrflno % , vv Genital Organs [Patented Feb. $5, 1879.] ■ n - MEN, from early indiscretion, lack nerve force and fail to attain strength. MIDDLE-AGED MEN often lack vigor, attribut ing it to the progress of years. The MOTHE R, WIFE and MAID, suffering from Female Weakness, Nervous Debility and other ail meats, will find it the only cure. To one and all we say that the Shield give* a nat oral aid in a natural way WITHOUT DRUGGING THE STOMACH. Warranted One Year, and the be* appliance made. Illustrated Pamphlet, THREE TYPES OF MEN, also Pamphlet fur Ladies only, sent on receipt o* 6c, sealed; unsealed, FREE. American Galvanic Co M nrcmrci 134 lYladluon SC., Chicago, Utr lilt 5 I 1103 Chctnilt St., l-hlla. There is A clergyman in Tennessee called the “satisfying preacher.” If a congregation is discontented lie is sent for, and so atrociously bad is lie that after hearing him once or twice the con gregation is entirely satisfied to beep the pastor it has. The Christian Advocate tells this story, and adds that when the great Robert Hall was recovering from mental aberration he took a wliim that he would not preach. Several clergy men filled his pnlpit. At last he heard one so poor that he said to him—so the tradition is: “Sir, you have produced a great effect by yonr sermon to-day. If the people must hear you or me, my Jutj-is clear—l must resume preaching!” £ljc Summer trilk OrtKttc. VOL XL A WISH. If I could find the Little Year, The llappy Year, the glad New Year, If could iiiul him setting forth To seek the ancient track— I’d bring him here, the Little Yoat*j Like a peddler with his pack. And all of golden brightness, And nothing dull or black, Ami all that heart could fancy, And all that life could lack, Should la- your share of the peddler’* ware \\ hen he undid his pack. The best from out htfc treasure A smile of yours would coax, And then we’d speed him on his way, At midnight’* falling strokes ; Ami bid hun hurry round the world, And serve the other folks ! Makoaukt Telly. AN INCIDENT FROM LIFE. llow dump and cold nnd foggy it was in Lambeth Talace Road one December evening. It was terrible noisy too, for huge carts, laden with heavy goods from (he Southwestern Railway terminus hard by, rattled incessantly over the stones, and everybody hurried along to bo out of the thoroughfare as soon ns possible. Three little nrohins formed an excep tion to the bustling crowd, for they lingered for more than an hour round the big iron gates of St. Thomas’s Hos pital in spite of the constant kuocks and pushes they received, custom having made them almost unconscious of such | treatment. Besides, the attraction which kept them there was a powerful one. They had actually witnessed, while they | waited, the arrival of no less than threo | Christmas trees. Two of them, it is ! true, were only young fir trees dug up j from a plantation somewhere in the I country nnd sent straight to the hospital | there to be dressed up in all their at j tractive finery, but the third tree was a present from the wife of one of tho eon | suiting physicians and was already ' trimmed and decorated and covered with toys. There was some delay in moving it from the light cart and carrying it into | the building, and so the three small | boys outside bad timo for a long look at lit in all its beauty. One must boa i child to understand what that beauty is; j colored flags, gold and silver bulls, dolls, trumpets, candles, crackers, sweeties — they need a child's imagination to be | appreciated, but we may perhaps, hap pily have enough of it left in ns to j know how much they convey to him. The boys on tlie sticky pavement ont ! side gave a long-drawn sigh as the beau tiful treo went out of sight, and they turned away to their own usual sur \ roundings—mud, fog, cold, discomfort, | such as tliay had been accustomed to all I through their short lives. “My !” said one of them, Jimmy by | name ; “wouldn’t I just like to bo sick in there and 'ave that there tree to play i with !” It was a sentiment echoed by the other two, as they edged themselves along the railing of tlie hospital, making their way back toward tlie room they usually slept in in Lambeth. “Well, we ain’t sick,” said another of them, called Peter, although the harsh, dry voice he spoke in and his white, wan face might have told another tale. “And so we ain’t got no tree !" said the third boy, Bill. They had almost reached the corner of Westminster Bridge, in depressed silence, when Pet —as he was commonly called—suddenly stopped, and, with n smile that was pleasing enough to see, although his companions did not notice it, exclaimed: “Ain't I got a hidea !” After which statement lie propounded to his attentive audience, ideas being, if not rare, always interesting to boys. And certainly Pet's was original and worthy of consideration. He suggested that one of them should feign to Vie ill; should get taken into the hospital, and when once there should see the tree in all its glory. The plan sounded delightful, the only objection to it being that they could not all play the principal part in it. They decided who should Vie the lucky one by the all-popular method of tossing, and Pet won the toss. This was fortunate, for besides having distinctly the first right to his own idea, which the lad did not think of, he was the only one of the three who would have been capable of acting his part; but Pet did not know this either. He only gave Jimmy and Bill a few hints as to what they were to do, how they were to look as scared as possible when Bill’s father came home at night, and how they were to say they knew nothing of Pet, except that he was sud denly “took bad.” Whereupon the “taking” promptly occurred, and with a thud that was unex pected even to Jimmy and Bill, Pet threw himself down at full length on the pavement. A small crowd instantly collected round them. Most of the peo ple only stared a moment and then passed on ; one or two expressed pity ; “id after a few moments tho inevitable policeman arrived and pushed his way up to Pet’s side, roughly questioning Jimmy and Bill. They whimpered a bit aud looked frightened—to order, and the policeman, after roiling Pet over with his foot and finding him appar ently altogether unconscious, said ho must go to the hospital, and, with the SUMMERVILLE, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY EVENING, JANUARY 23, 188-i. help of a good-natured bystander, him self carried him there, Jimmy aud Bill aud several others following. It was something to tie inside those great walls, as Jimmy and Bill and Pot, too, thought, while the latter was being carried bv the porter on a stretcher into the Casualty ward nnd a big bell was rung for Number One—that is, a young dresser always liamly, who sees a case first, and, if it bo trifling, attends to it without sending for tho house surgeon. But of Pet the dresser could make noth ing at all, and he soon called the house surgeon, who came running down from the top of the high building and applied himself with the rapidity of a hard worked man to the consideration of tlie ease before him. He did not look over thirty, but there was an amount of dieision, a firmness and n gentleness in his touch of Pet, which spoke well for the use he had made of his head nnd of his heart. The policeman stated what he knew and was dismissed, while the surgeon looked for all the most likely symptoms in Pet, and was able to find none of them. The patient was simply unconscious. The boys were asked whether Pet had been ill before ho fell down suddenly, aud they said : “No, only the cough!” And as they both cried, or howled steadily, all the time, the dresser sent them away, telling them they might come the next morning to hear what was the matter with their friend. They, not sorry to get their dismissal after the surgeon had arrived on tho scene, scam pered off. Then tho surgeon, systematically nnd very patiently indeed, began at Pet’s head aud examined him down to his feet to find some cause for this extraor dinary unconsciousness, and could find none. Disease he found indeed, for tlie poor little fellow’s lungs were half gone, but as he said to tho dresser: “Boys don't dropdown unconscious from that 1” Being strangely battled, the surgeon or dered Pet to be taken to the children’s ward, undressed and put to bed. "We'll see what we can make of him then,” ho said. It was not by any means easy for Pet to keep up his acting, especially when strong ammonia was put under his nose and almost boiling water to his feet, but he managed it, more now from priilo than from longing after, tlie Christmas tree, even. Only when he was lifted by the nurse into a soft, clean, warm bed, such as he had never dreamt of before, that small closed mouth of his involun tarily parted, and something very like a smile, like the ghost of a smile, stole over his face. Tlie surgeon, noticing it, was struck with the idea that tho hoy might ho shamming. “Fetch the battery here,” ho said. Pet did not know what a battery meant, or his smile would certainly have disappeared us involuntarily us it had come. Tho surgeon waited by his side, hold ing his small hand and thinking to him self that, shamming or not shamming, Pet had tlie most pathetic face lie had met witli in all his experience of sadness and suffering. Then the battery was brought and a slight shock was administered from it down Pet’s back. “Oh! that was horrible!” thought the lad. “What was it? Would it come again ?” He managed not to wince under it the first time. A second and a harder shock was given. Pet did not quite scream, but he pressed his fingers ss hard into the house surgeon’s hand that the latter knew he was right in his con jecture. Then a third shook was given —a stronger one, and this timo Pet sprang ont of bed with tears starting to his eyes and exclaimed; "Oil! don’t do it again; don’t doit again 1” One or two stndents round were laughing, but the surgeon did not see anything but pathos in the scene, as he said, gravely: “Then you are not ill, and have been giving us all this trouble for nothing. Wliy did yon do it?” He wanted the Jad to tell the truth, and of course to him Pet did. “Please, sir,” he said, not crying now, but looking straight with his great gray eyes into the doctor’s face; “ ’twas the tree, the Christmas tree, as I wanted to see so awful bad ! Me and Jimmy and Bill, we seed it a-carried into here, all beautiful, and—and—l did want to see it again 1” “And so yon pretended to be ill, that yon might come in hero, and ” “Yes, sir.” “And what am I to do with you now, do you think ?” “Turn me ont again,” said Pet promptly. There was something very like a quiver in tlie surgeon’s voice as ho said with infinite tenderness: “No, my lad, I shan’t do that to you, you shall see the Christmas tree in here. You are not what you pretended to be, but you are quite ill enough to stay in the ward until after Christmas time, and then we wilt see !” And so Pet had his Christmas tree, and Jimmy and Bill come in at the surgeon’s invitation to see it, too, but Pet did not go back with them after it to Lambeth. He never left the hospital again, for consumption ran a rapid course with him, and before three months were over he died in the ward. , a mm) mil. A I.ITTI.KHF.HTMI Ol'Ttlf! I'ltV.Mt l>KNt OK Till! NOKTIIIiItN PACIFIC. lie Mnrl* om Irt I.lie Pndr, lint Miiecerili In Milking ilia IVnt litlou Kortuuti Thranfli Pluck unit Cheek. I met Henry Yillard tho Other day, says a newspaper correspondent, no looks like just what ho is, a shrewd, big idead man, whose biggest idea is Villard. He’s about fifty years of age, but is good for thirty years yet, in all humor probability. Ho was born in a little town in Ger many, in easy circumstances, and after havin’ been a German student and soldier and all the rest, his folks wanted him to settle down in Germany and marry a nice little girl they had picked out for him. The girl was nice enough, but Ger many was too quiet a place, and young Yillard didn’t feel a bit like settlin’ down. Bo he gave hiH goixi folks a spasm by tolling ’em he had made up his mind not to marry, and to go to America, Tho old folks tried to coax liim to stay, but he wouldn’t bo coaxed. Ho bade his mother good bye and the girl, took his father’s hlessin’ and a little of his father’s money with him, and came to Amorica, Duriu’ his career as a newspaper man he came across William Lloyd Garrison and his daughter. Tho yotlng lady took a fancy to him, and as Villard by this time had forgotten his German girl, who, by the way, had got married herself, ho “settled down” at last and married Miss Garrison. Ho then set to work nnd dabbled in stocks so shrewdly and successfully that ho soon got rich, and not only made money, which is easy, but kept it, which is harder, and invested It so as to mako a fortune, which is hardest of all. Asa well-to-do capitalist and a mar ried man, ho made a visit to liis native town and his family, and was introduced to the man who had married liis first love—with whom ho became fast friends. Ho also made the acquaintance of loadin’ capitalists at Frankfort, and induced a good many Germans to invest, in western railways in which he was interested. Among others, the husband oi his first girl invested under liis lead, and Villard took double pains to see this man all right, both for his own sake and that of liis wife. It. ain’t every man who gets a chanoo to make money fora woman ho don’t marry. Villard formed an Oregon company, of which ho was the head, and this Ore gon company obtained control of the Northern Pacific, in a very skillful and darin’ fashion. Villard is a great be liever in the ono man power, that is in havin’ ono responsible bond for every thin’, and lettiu’ tho head liavo all the power, as well as all the responsibility. Well, in this Oregon company ho was tho “one man.” And lie didn’t propose to take any advice or listen to any in structions from anybody else, but to do precisely as ho thought best. But at the same timo he couldn’t do anythin’ without money. And ho couldn’t get any money unless the stockholders were willin’ to advance it, and they wouldn’t naturally be ready to advance it unless they were consulted as to what they ex pected to advance the money for. Here was a problem. But Villard set to work and solved it in a very simple and bold —not to say “cheeky”—sublimely cheeky—way. He called a mootin' of the stockhold ers, nnd in a few words told ’em ho wanted ’em to advance him eight million dollars, for a purpose which was unwise just then to make public, or even to communicate to anybody, but which in his opinion was bound to boa magnifi cent investment. Tliis kind of talk almost took the breath, and quite took the starch out of a number of the stockholders. But the colossal impudence of this request was an argument in its favor with the rest. They argued that no man could possibly ask for such money if ho didn’t have a good thing to place it in. Tlie very secrecy made the thing more mighty as well as mysterious. Besides Villard had always been known as a shrewd man, and a man of good judgment and charac ter. Such a man most people argued wouldn’t ask for eight milieus unless he had something to do with it. So the majority of stockholders agreed to Yil iard’s idea, and absolutely lent him over, not less than, hut more than, the eight million he asked for, thus “goin’ it blind” to an enormous amount. Viliard thanked his friends in a few words, and then set to work to show that their con fidence in him had not been misplaced. And he soon proved it. In a few months it was found out that the Oregon Company which had not. hitherto amounted to much, had through Viltard’s fine work, got control of the greater part, of tho stock of the Northern Pacific road. This job hail been done very quietly. The stock had been bought, not by the lump at once, tint gradually lot by lot, in various mimes, by various parties. But it all got down to the Oregon Company and Henry Villard after all. It, was the most tremendons “blind pool” on record, I believe. It reads liko a fairy story, this asking business men to lend a man eight millions on a mys tery, but it is the simple fuct. Tim farmer’s best friend—Eliza. Eliza who ? l\iiilizvi.—.FiUourf/2’e(egrapfi, Tlie Broken Pane. It was spring time, The buds were bursting into blossom—the birds sang joyfully as they linilt their nests—the green grass was hiding the ugly scars of winter. A child’s pale foci) poured through ft broken pane out Upon the glorious sunshine, and tho soft Wind kissed her checks and whispered: "Bye and bye.” Outside the house was life and health and happiness. Inside was sickliest*, sorrow aud poverty. Child though she was, the shadows had settled down about her as the fog gathers round tho ship which tho rooks thirst to destroy. There were children there, liut no childish laughter. The sunshine streamed into the bare rooms, but it warmed no hearts. It was a poor widow’s struggle against that gaunt, grim shadow whoso other nnme is pov erty. Hunger and cold and rags dwarf the body, and give the face the look of one hunted for years by nil implacable enemy. Despair will waste whoever dares enter the struggle, nnd anxiety leaves its mak so plainly that no ond can mistake it. This child of twelve had known noth ing but shadows, grim, silent, stealthy shadows, stealing upon her young life to rob it of evory happiness. Even as she lookeil out upon tho glorious world sho felt that she Was no part of it. It was around lior, but beyond her reach. ****** * It, was mid-summer. Every treo was a thing of beauty—every flower a silent tribute of praise to the Creator. The grass had become a velvet carpet—the blossoms wore young fruit—the sun was sending his warm rays to cheer tho darkest corners. The world was joyous tinder the blue skies of summer ns the pale face again looked from tho broken pane. Out in the world around her the children shouted in their glee. In tho dark old house children hungered for bread. The samo glim shadows Woro there—the samo struggle for bread— the same burdens and anxieties and bit terness of heart. The child had grown paler, aud the limited look had chased every other expression away. Her eyes saw the trees, the (lowers, the streets, the busy world and its happi ness, and her ears heard the summer breeze as it softly whispered : "Bye and bye.” What would it bring? Wlmt is tlie bye niul bye to those haunted by hunger and striving against poverty? ♦ * * * * * * The other day when the north wind shrieked aud moaned, and the snow flakes whirled and flew, another face ap peared at the broken pane. It was that of a boy who could not resist the temp tation to look in. On a poorer bed than lie had ever seen—in a room so cold and bare and cheerless that he shivered as ho looked—lay the corpse of the child who had looked upon the spring and tho summer. The snow-flakes which strayed in at tho broken pane were no whiter than her face. There was no smile to cloak its coldness, but around the mouth were lilies to melt the heart. It was ns if tlio dead were whispering: “Snow and poverty aud despair have beclouded and cut short a young life. Have pity 1” The soft winds had whispered: “Bye and bye 1” It had come. In life the tears in that boy’s eyes would have lightened her sorrows and made her heart braver. They had como too late. M. Quad. Notable Falls. Writing to the Baltimore San, from Sydney, N. S. W., a traveler says: “I have never seen anything in America that compared with Wentworth Falls in tho combination of both beauty and grandeur. At first tlie water leaps a dis tance of 700 feet, as though falling over the back to tho seat of a great armchair cut out of tho face of the mountain by some giaut of nature. Falling in spray, it gathers itself for another run and leap, the second timo falling over 800 feet into the great gorge below. The fall is so far and the foliage so dense at the foot, that the eye fails to see the second gathering-place of tho clouds of spray glittering in the sunlight 1,500 feet be low. The valley below the falls spreads out into a great amphitheatre fifty miles across, and hemmed in on every side but one, with the perpendicular walls of the mountain. No human foot has ever been known to tread this valley, as it cannot bo reached from below, by reason of a second precipico over which the same stream falls, and to go down from above would be a perilous undertaking.” He Swore Himself. Tho San Frnnciso Chronicle says : A Montana postmaster, who arranges the mnils for the little town of Birney, lives eighty miles from a notary public. When he sent in his first quarterly re port he ailmininstered the oath to him self and then certified to tho correctness of the account. A reply soon came back from the red-tape headquarters in Wash ington that he hail violated a sacred precedent and must get a notary to swear him. His retort was that ho knew no precedent which would assure him mileage and traveling expenses for 160 miles in order to get a notary's sig nature. Tliis left the department not a leg to stand upon and they have sinco preserved a discreet silence nnd allowed the Montana man to swear as he pleased, NO. I. THE LIME-KILN CLUB. iVORDH OF WIN DOJI IIY lIItOTHKV GARDNER. An Ariilrrm Upon n Very Norton* Nulijoet* [From tho Detroit Free Fichu.] “I desire to announce,” sunt Brother Gardner as lie rose tlpauil looked around on the bald heads before liim, "tint do Right Very Honorable Ernstus Du Biff, T/L.D., of West Point, On., am waitin’ in do HflUtJ-Towm to debitor n leoktnr’ liefo’ dis dill). Do slibjiek lie hns clioosen on dis illustrious occasion r.fsi ‘Wlmt will do fnohur’ bring fo’tli ?’ Ho nr r ovo henli two days ago, nil' has bin oconpyin’ do spar' bed in Brtnlder Walpole’s house, Artor do lectur’ a oolleckslnn: will bo tooken up fur his benefit, and to morrer mawnin’ he will pnroeed on his way to Toronto. De committee will now pnr oeed to bring him in.” When the committee reached tho ante room they found the Right Very Honorable bathed in a cold perspiration and liis paper collar fast wilting away. He had an attack of what is called “stage fright,” and the committee had to rub liis back with a brick, pour cold water down his neck, and lend him fifteen centa in nickels before he could sufficiently command himself to enter the lmn. Ho finally appeared, a rosy smile mortgaging his features nnd his head nodding from one to another, and was formally introduced by the Presi dent. Ho seeded on the point of wilt ing again, but Brother Gardner whis pered to him that if ho did he’d have to go out of town on foot, and tho warning stiffened his legs nnd made anew man of him. “My frens,” he softly began, “I reckon dat mos’ of you know wliat de word fiiclnir means. It dean' mean de littskiu’-bees of las' y’ar, but it refers to goin’ a-fishin’ nox’ summer. De fiiehnr means dat which am befo’ ns. We know wliat do past lias lining out. What will happen in de fnehnr cannot lie known but may ho predicted. lam heaii to-night to predict. “I do not say dat do fuolmr will see a cull’d man occupy in’ do White House at Washington, but I predict dat if de Norf Pole am ever diekivereil it will bo by some member of do Lime-Kiln Club. “De cull’d man of de fuchur may not become world renowned for inventin’ an 800-barreled cannon, lmt I see no reason why he shouldn’t bring fo’th a steam bootjack or diskiver a way to patch butes wid cold pancakes. Steam be longs to de past. A hundred y'ars hence it will he too slow fur any bizness ’cept sawin’ up wood fur poo’ folks. “I do not assort dat do fuchur will do away wid railroads, but de son of some pusson now widin’ sound of my voice will win fame by inventin’ some way of killin’ de brakeman who emag ines dat his sole duty consists in roastin’ de passengers in each ear. “De fuchur may not solvo do prob lem of ftyin’ frew de air, lmt who kin tell what de next fifty years may do to ward improvin’ de hotel bed an’ do restaurant sandwich ? “To-day we stan’ an’ look upon do sewin’ masheen as perfeckshnn. Fifty years hence men will smile at de ideah of our bein’ satisfied wid any sioli affair. A wife will tako de sewin' masheen of do fuchur an’ support a lazy husban’ an’ nine children widout workiu’ ober two days in de week. “Do fuchur will liavo a heap to do wid our own pcrtiokler race. Do Samuel Shin of a hundred y'ars hence may boa city comptroller; do Giveadam Jones will be President of acollege; do Pickles Smith will liohs a railroad; de Waydown Bebee will lmvo liis name mixed up wid a naslmnol bank; de Lord Nelson Slabs may command an army an’ de Bruilder Gardner will sit in de Gubiner’s room at do State House an’ sign his offishul name to de bills passed by de Legis laclinr. [Wild cheers.] Wid dese few impervious remarks lis dun. I return my sympathetic adherence for de tyran nical manner in which you lias bestowed your attenshun an’ take my lenvo of you in de moas’ emblematical manner.” The closing remarks were greeted with such a storm of applause as broke out several window-panes aud upset two lamps. The honorable gen tleman was then conducted from the hall, and the eollection taken up for his benefit netted him the handsome sum of 87.30. The Waste Basket. A correspondent of the Cleveland (O.) Leader in Goshen, Ind., tells a story of the first printing of Will Garleton’s “Betsy and I are Out.” The poem was sent, the correspondent says, to tho Toledo Blade, where a subordinate, in the absence of the editor, threw it into the waste-basket. Tho editor had a habit of looking through tho waste basket, and he recovered tlie poem, all except the first sheet. For a duplicate of this sheet he wrote to tho author, who furnished it, and the poom was printed. It was copied by nearly every paper in America. “A Pnir.ADEnpniA scientist can tell, on examining a hair pin, the color of tho owner’s hair.” And a Philadelphia woman, on examining a hair found on the shoulder of her husband's coat, can tell whether he hns lied or not—and she ■is not a scientist, either .—Norristown llorald, I THE HUMOROUS PAPERS. i WHAT WK FIND IN TIIKM TO LAUGH OVER. i GOT IT. O h and o yon r o this groat big boot, belonging to an ugly brnte r It weighs a ton or more I gnom) it gavo mo ono part ing care**. I loved a darned, hlio wa fair h HUimhino in tho autumn air. Ono owning I did gladly whirl into tho do main of my girl. Wo talked of love, I called her dove; w mot down to tlie gate to Hpoon, be neath tho gleam of harvcHt moon. I pressed a kiss upon her lipn. It was so sweet 1 gavo another sip. Oh ! then he came t the owner of tliis l>oot the same. I felt a pres sure soro and quick, so sudden that it made mo sick. Ten feet into tho air I flew, and dropped into tho horse pond too. I swore with all my might and main, I nover would make love, no uevor again unto a maid whose pa ho wore— it isn’t fun — a boot that weighed almost a ton. •—Whitehall Timet, WHAT CAUSED IT. Little Nell—“ What is oatmeal made of, ?’’ “Mamma —“It is mado of oats, my child.” Little Nell—“ Oats? Wby, that’s what they feed to horses.” Mamma—“Yes, dear.” Little Nell—“No wonder I’m so awful hoarse.” TTtU SILENT MAJORITY. .Tones, who was a peaceable man, mar ried a very Htrong-miuded womnn, and sometime after n friend who had been abroad was asking Brown about him. “Alas, poor Jones,” said Brown, “ho lias joined tho silent majority.” “Good heavens, he ain’t dead, is he? When did it happen ? I never heard of it before.” “Oh, no, ho is not dead.” “Well, if ho ain’t dead, how oould he have joined tho silent majority?” ‘‘Poor man, ho’s married. ” — Merchant Traveler. STTODDY ARISTOCRACY. “Miriali, I am shocked that you should even think of having those Simpkins girls as bridesmaids at your wedding.” “Why, mamma, they are two of tho sweetest, nicest, most highly-cultivated young ladies in the city. They have traveled all over the globe and are re leived everywhere.” “But just think, Miriah, of thestigma which attaches to them. Before the war their father, who afterward got rich on all army contract, lived on a farm and actually made and sold butter. Just think of it I” “But docs not my father make and sell butter, too?” “No, indeed. Why, yon shock me! How could you think of such a thing ? Your father is a manufacturer, and tho product ho manufactures is not vti'gar butter, but oleomargarine ft highly prized and very important article of commerce.”— Philadelphia Call. THE BAD noy’s LAST CATER. “What’s that?” said the groceryman, turning pale and starting for the door, where he found a woodsawyer taking a pear. “Get away from there,” and ho drove tlie woodsawyer away and camo in with a sign in his hand, on whicli was painted, “Tako one.” “I painted that sign nnd put it on a pile of chromos of a new clothes wringer, for people to take ono, and by gum, the wind has blown that sign over on to tho basket of pears, and I suppose every dam fool that has passed this morning has taken a pear, and there goes tho profits on tho whole day’s business. Say, yon didn’t change that sign, did you?” aud tlie grocery man looked at tho bad boy with a glanoe that was full of lurking suspicion. “No, sir-reo,” said the boy, as he wiped the pear jnice off his face on a piece of tea paper, “I have quit all kinds of foolishness, and wouldn’t play a joke on a graven image. ” — Peck’s Sun. HE TRIED THE PASS. A few days ago a man with a meek ind humble expression and wearing a l immer suit of clothes applied to one of the railroad passenger agents for a dead head pass to Toledo. “Why do you want to go to Toledo?” “To git married.” “And you haven't any money?” “Not above twenty-five cents.” “Hadn’t you better be worth yonr fare to Toledo before taking a wife on your bands to support?” “You don’t understand the case,” pro tested the man, “I’m going to marry a widow wortli at least 85,000, and the first thing I shall do will be to remit you the price of a ticket. I’m poor and the widow knows it, but she marries me for love.” Ho protested so long and earnestly that he was finally passed down the road. Two days elapsed and then a let ter was received from him, Baying : “Heaven bless you for your kindness I Reached hero all right, nnd married the widow according to programme. It turns out she isn’t wortli a copper. In tliis emergency may I ask you to pass us lioth to Detroit, where I have hopes of striking a job?”— Detroit Pree Press. Anew employment has been funnel for working girls in some of the large cities. In ono of tho leading millinery establishments a number of remarkably pretty young girls are kept in an ante room, ostensibly employed to sew. They represent a wido variety in com plexion and typos of feature. When a customer wavers in deciding between bonnets tho wily clerk cails in one of these girls and says : “Here is a head nnd face quite like yours, and I can show you the effect this hat would have on you.” Of course, on beauty’s top tho piece of millinery is bewitching, and gratified vanity quiokly completes thy sale,