Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

Fot-Office orders from n!l j ortlonsol tic country v. \\\ *■ vre ft *••.;**!%• ol BONK(X'i::::, r.. > only safe, quid; and positive cure f.r n uto and chronir Gonorrh a and elect crer u.-01. Cures effected i:n ’■ r f.\e days, requiring no Internal remedies, no elm::;'o cf diet, or I<>ss of time. Its action dc-tro; and anta'onlees every at.n f venereal poison with v.-U: !i It c'-ies In*con tact, and is hnnale's to healthy parts MiWfPMEBS?,VggC ftKißa POO .A Fost-Offlee order for SI.OO will buy three bottles of HONK' K IN !C, the only harmless compound over offered which positively euros and pre vents the contagion ofarvand all vo nercaitU.MMMS. Thoovmvtant, pcrs wcnntr nnd uni- Yersul.use of inis re:, “ly would effect* uaily wipe out all venereal di'eases from the f • • f the earth. (1. and G. can n -ither l*o oontrao: l n>*r exist when it i j used, bccauv.- it destroys by torn* contact. ltnllaysr.il pain, sub due-. the inflammation nnd promotes quiet slumbers. • PSS 1 well known railroader writes as follows: Atlanta, T f.f.’y 2t, 1.853. Bonkoclnel-Xrlv i .i muary I commenced the uso oi HONKoriNls for a bad ease of G. whieh bad baffled the skill and medicines oi live physi cians.and three bottles cured mo sound ami well. 1 lost no time, used no other remedy and did not change my diet. It Is a )>!>. i ivx to those whose j ah' aro not bright.” Discard al! capsules, copaMa. etc.,and usotlir.t Which never fails, and will keep you cured for life by acting as a preventive. One bottle S1 .50, or three for SI.OO. Sold by druggists. Kxpressed on re ceipt of price. BONKOCINB GO.. 78)„ Whitehall street, Atlanta. Ga. F r s le iu Suiim *rvflle by ■ I (’LEGHORN A CO. n—■■■■uni i in —him n i7x-- Nerve-Life andVigor - RESTORED.- fc>- This cut shows the g Kf&ijFsh Howard Electric gS wBKPj Magnetic Shield 'ieJKl<t S ~ tJrSU- ncjsaml Nervo-vltrl cm.tors. Tne ri.ly the Lucy, an 1 . r ■ \ 1 M fl rosmvKLT <i i t BU k A 1 4 EiUlne) 1 J IHlit> ii maltMU. OF THE i jl*yhi>v pn* r> 8 Seminal oak jPf I •*, i:\t.au. \ I -**m**- '' • Gcuitui OrpuiN [ Patentee! Feb. 25, 1579. j -nwn ■ YOUNG MEN, from early Indl-crctun, j serve forte and fail to attain strength. MIDDLE-AGED MEN often lack vigor, at!: ut lng it to the progress of year**. The MOTHER, WIFE and M AID, sufferingfren Female \V*kn* o. Nervous Debility and ■ ...■ . : :i merits, will find it the only cure. To one and all we say that the Shield gives a nut oral aid in a natural wav WITHOUT DRUGGING THE STOMACH. Uarmitrd One Year, and the !>c appliance made. Illustrated Pamphlet. THREE TYPES 01 MEN also Pamphlet for • only, sent on receipt o tc, sealed ; unsealed, FREE. American Galvanic Cos. OFFIDt i 1 103 riicßinut si., FBii <. NOTES ANDCOMMKXTS. “GaZE UPON YONDER EVENING Ktsi r ami swear to bo tme while its light shall .bine! Swear, my lore! Swear by Venus !” exclaimed a youth in impas sioned accents to one of the Vassar girls. “llow stupid you arc,” she an swered. “That is cot Venus. The right ascension of Venus this month is 15h. 9m.; her declination is 17 degrees 25m. south, nnd her diameter is 10.2.’’ Mbs. Myra Clark Gaines, a very old woman, after winning one-half or thereabouts of New Orleans after fifty years’ litigation to get her property, is living in Washington in almost strait ened circumstances. Bho lives in furnished rooms and supports herself, her daughter-in-law and two grand children on the 86!) a month pension she receives as widow of Gen. Gaines “Eli Perkins’* says he did not per sonally know Colonel Hunt, of Michi gan, who bequeathed him, “Josh Bil lings” and the mother of “Artemus Ward” $5,000 each. “A year ago, how ever,” ho says, “I received a letter from him requesting me to send him two ol my humorous works. I did so, and ad ded a copy of ‘Josh Billings’ and a bi ogr.inhv of ‘Artemus Ward.’” Pr .Tulips Bee, a Jewish banker of Hamburg, who accumulated a large for tune in Bio Janeiro, but losing all of his children there by sickness, returned to Germany, has died, leaving a will which bequeathed four million marks for the erection of dwellings to be occupied free of rent by deserving poor families, and by nged persons without means. Senator Plumb said in the United States Senate that the United States army of 25.000 men, costs within a half a million of dollars of the sum spent upon the German army of 400,000 men, so that what the United States army lacks iu numbers it makes up in pay. “Ours,” he said, “is the best-paid army in the world.” It i* n well enough to advise a young man to overcome ail obstacles by “taking the bull by the boms;” but when the youth is in the middle of a field and the bull is coming toward him with his head down and its tail lashing the air the young man prefers to take the fence. It would be decidedly unwhole some to take the bull by the boms un der those circumstances, —Norristown Herald. £|jc &ninincnriUc CMjcttc. VOL XI. “XOT LOST, LVT GONE HE FORE." My little child, with clustering hair, Strewn o’er thy dear, dead brow, Though in the past divinely fair. More lovely art thou now. God bade thy gentle soul depart, On brightly shimmering wings ; Yet near thy clay, thy mother's heart All weakly, fondly clings. My beauteous child, with lids of snow Closed o'er thy dim blue eyes, Should it not soothe my grief to know They shine beyond the skies? Above thy silent cot 1 kneel, With heart all crushed ami sore, 'While through the gloom these sweet wonli steal: “ Not lost, but gone before." My darling child, these flowers I laj On locks too fair, too bright, For the damp grave mist, cold and gray, To dim their sunny light, Soft baby tresses, bathed in tears, Your gold was all mine own ! Ah. weary mouths*! ah, weary years ! That 1 must dwell alone ! My only child I hold thee still, Clasped in my fond embrace! My love, my sweet! hoW fixed, how chill, This smile upon thy face ! The grave is cold, my clasp is warm, Yet give thee up I must ; And birds will sing when thy loved form Lies ruddering iu tire dust. My angel child, thy tiny feet Dance through my broken dn ams ; Ah me, how joyous, quaint and sweet Their baby pattering seems ! I hush my breath, to hear thee speak ; I see thy red lips part; Hut wake to feel thy cold, cold cheek Close to my breaking heart ! Soon, soon my burning tears shall fall Upon thy coffin lid ; Nor may those tears my soul recall To earttr—nay, God forbid ! Be happy in His love, for I Resigned, though wounded sore, Can hear His angels whispering nigh : “ Not lost, but gone before." Fansy Foubestf.r. Old Jo© Pollard. BY MRS. DENISON. How slowly he walked ! Poor old old man ! Joe Pollard; ex-President o tlio Statesman’s Bank of opolis. His coat was faded, his boots were seamed and gray, his hat greasy and quaint-patterned, Only three years ago, and no more stately, vigorous, hale gentleman walked the streets than Joseph Pollard, Esq.; now he was “old Joe,” and sometimes “poor old Joe.” When he failed he was living in great splendor. People to this day point out the Pollard mansion and tell you of its former greatness. Happily there wns no dishonor attached to his name. Ho had given np all; homo, horses, car riages, everything that could be dis pensed with. His only daughter—her name was Josephine, but all her friends called her Jeddy—gave a birthnight party only a week before the trouble camo, on her eighteenth birthnight. Never a happier or lovelier girl than she. Universally admired and re spected, bright as a sunbeam, witty, merry, genorous. In all that throng of beauty, amid the flowers and the feasting that man would have been bold indeed who could have presaged coming ill fortune. Only one week later, and the dreadful news camo. Joseph Pollard was "bank rupt. The cashier had been dishonest, several largo firms had gone down, and the run on the bank had completed the ruin. The father found a place as an assist ant bookkeeper, but he had formed the habit of drinking at his own table. Lit tle by little he sank at Inst into what seemed an utterly hopeless state, lost his business, his pride and almost his wits. “My dear,” wrote Aunt Pnie, when she heard of this misfortune, “put your father away. There are plenty of places: and come and live with mo. Enough for one is enough for two.” “Aunt Prue,” wrote Jeddy, indig nantly, “I am ashamed of you. What! counsel me to put my own dear father in the poor-house, for what other place is open to him? No. I will share his misfortunes if I have to work my fin gers to the bone.” “Jeddy, I’m useless. I’m broken down and good for nothing,” whined poor Joe, day after day, as Jeddy sat and stitched her life into the work she had undertaken. “Father, you are only fifty-eight years old,” was the answer. “Many a man has begun life anew at your age.” “Ah ! if I onlyeould !” he would make reply, and drink again to drown his misery. Jeddy had carried much of her fine wardrobe with her into the poverty of her snrroundings. Of course she made over and toned down the material, but “the look of the lady,” as one of the coarser neighbors said, was upon her “and couldn’t be mistook.” Everybody pitied her when old Joe came roiling home, but few saw or knew how patiently she put up with his in firmity, how she soothed and coaxed him, with what tenderness she anticipated his wants, and even when it would seem that he was scarcely entitled to her re spect, honored him. To her, nnder all his wretched dis guises, he was still father. But her constant duties wore heavily upon her. She grew pale nnd thin, then feverish and hectic; but still she worked on. Three times a liandßome carriage and SUMMEIiVII LL, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY EVENING, APRIL 211, 1884. pair were seen before tlio door of her plain little homo. The first time a rich aunt came to re monstrate with her and offer her a home. She found tier preparing Her i>oor meal over the tiny cook stove. “Jeddy, you are the best girl in the world, but you must go back with me, if only for awhile, nnd leave that man tc take care of himself.” This was after a most affectionate greeting, for Jeddy was her favorite niece. “I couldn’t leave father,” was the re sponse. “But I can’t seo you lulling yourself by inches. YYhat does ho care ? One person is ns good as another to one who has lost all the liner sensibilities, as he has.” “Oh, no; at times father is liis old self—even—even at. the worst,” sho faltered. “Ho don’t forget that he is a gentleman. 110 never was unkind to me. ” “Fiddlesticks ! Your ideas of duty aro exaggerated. Come, now—don’t dis appoint me—take a little rest. I have oomo way from L on purpose to carry v >u back, and the last words your Cousin Kitty said, as I left her, were: “ ‘Mother, don’t fail to bring Jeddy back; I want to see her.’ ” Tears came to Joddy’s brown eyes, but sho reiterated; “I cannot leave father.” “And here you aro, losing all your beauty—all your advantages, and even your health—l can see it! For your father’s sake, yon ought to go. It would make a now creature of you to seo old sights and old facos, and to live a while like a Christian. Why, child, the walls aro damp; how do you live ?” “It isn’t living, aunt, it’s only stay ing,” said Jeddy, trying bravely to smile, “but that I can’t help while father lives. There’s nobody in all this w ide world to care for him but mo. I know I might livo in ease and comfort if I went with you, and oh, sometimes my heart, does long so for a little of that old-time joy. It would be like looking into Par adise- but—l can’t leave father.” There sounded a heavy sigh. Both women turned round to seo the old, gaunt man in the doorway, the tears streaming down his cheeks as lie held forth his trembling hands ns if in bene diction. “Go, Jeddy, go angel—don’t stay for me—l’m not worth your care,” he said pitifully. But Jeddy thought otherwise. Long after the splendid carriage lmd gone she sat there holding the gray head against her shoulder, soothing and petting him and lending a willing ear to his promises of amendment. Tiro second carriage brought a stylish young gentleman, with whom kor friends had often coupled her name. Ho came with an offer of marriage, hut Jeddy gave him the same soft hut determined answer: “I couldn’t leave father,” and he, too, wont away disconsolate. The third carriage contained one who had always been a friend, also a young gentleman, who had lately returned from a foreign tour. He asked no questions and expressed no surprise, though the change ho saw affected him painfully. But like a true friend, ho resolved to aid both father and daughter. To this purpose ho followod the former, and quietly tried to hinder him from the abuse of liis appetite, and gradually gained liis confidence, Then he told him how sadly tlio change in liis daughter had troubled him. “Change 1” exclaimed old Joe, “liow is she changed ?” “Is it possible you do not see that she is at deat h’s door ?” “Wliat do you mean? At death’s door—my child—my angel ? You would kill me 1 What liavo I but tier ?” “You liavo God, and Ho will help you to redeem yoursatf. If you do that, your daughter will live; if you do not, sho will die. ” That night old Joe went home full of doubts nnd fears. He watched his child, sick at heart from the news he heard. “I can make her live—and I will !” he said, resolutely, to himself. “I am not an old man, yet” -lifting his bowed head—“with God’s help, I will be anew one 1” Ho went to tho curb, outside, and orokc his pocket-flask in a hundred pieces. The next day he came home sober; the next, ho found a place —a small one, it was true, but in the old bank where he had once reigned mas ter. Everybody saw the change. Old Joe had new clothes, he was respectable to outward seeming. Once more he be came a man among men. His knowledge of the business, his integrity, gained him a better iwaUion. Lay by day he took steps upward—day by day the color and brightness came into his daughter’s face, and her steps grew light and her tones joyful. It seems like a miracle, but is not, that old Joe rides in his own carriage again. He is Mr. Pollard again, cashier of the hank, and a power among his fel lows. It was jusi trusting in God and God helping him as he helped himself. But the best of al! is, his glorious daugh ter, by sacrificing herself, by her noble fortitude, by her patient care, has won a place in his heart, and in the hearts of all who know her, prouder and more en during than the throne of a queen. Companion, The (jrowtli of a Child’s Ideas. • Prof. Straight, of Oswego, in an ml dress before tho school teachers of Con necticut says: “Tf wo can think of the littlo child, just born into the world, its senses just opening to tho world—tho eye, tho ear and the touch—of tho im pressions from tho external world showering down upon those senses— there is the beginning. Tho waves of ether from tho bright light beat upon the eye and the child at oueo distin guishes (lie bright light from darkness. Soon bright colors attract the attention; and so it begins at tho outset to study optics, discovering light and shade. Form next comes into its consciousness. Thereby it learns to distinguish its mother or nurse from other people. 1 was told of au experiment tried lately by a teacher at tho kindergarten. Avery young ohild had been accustomed to see a bright dress upon its mother, nud knew her only by color. A young lady friend put on tho mother's dress and camo into tho room where tho baby was and was immediately taken for the mother. The child lmd not progressed far enough to distinguish betwoen them by form. Other children were similarly experi mented upon, but they had been edu cated iu form and color so as not to bo mistaken. After discovering optics and forms tho child begins to study sound, and soon distinguishes tho mother’s voioo from any other voice, it also learns to distinguish striking sounds from sounds produced otherwise. Next follows the knowledge of number. As soon as a child has one pain and one pleasure it begins to learn number; when it realizes two pains and two pleas ures it has learned number. It is just as easy for tho child to learn number by using cubes and triangles as by illus trating with oranges and apples. And so noon as tho little ohild can locate a pain within its body—in ouo of its limbs or its head—there is tho looality, thebe ginning of geography. Its striking, kicking and wriggling enables it to dis cover tho smoothness and roughness of bodies. The ohild next begins to study its own form—its bauds and foot. 1 never slmll forgot tho pleasure and sur prise that my own iittlo hoy showed when lie discovered that ho had ears. When ho put his hand on the sido of liis head and found something that ho had not known of before there was a thrill ol discovery. This joy of discovery is like that which thrills every true discoverer. Wo eau seo those powers of discovery iu the first few weeks or months of tho child's life.” - The Hop Situation. Country shippers are liable to bo mis lead by the regular hop quotations, un less they clearly understand the situa tion. Fancy Now York are quoted as high as 28 cenls per pound and fancy Eastern at 24 to 25 cents, but so fur as our market is concerned, very few hops go over 20 cents, because most of the re ceipts are of a medium grade. The higher grades are now almost wholly in the hands of a few holders, who peddle them about to the brewers at tho extreme prices. Seme lots of Eastern hops were consigned to parties hero n few weeks ago as prime quality, but when offered for sale they were in cvc ry caso found to he quite inferior, and did not realize over 15 to 18 cents. 'Die shipper felt ag grieved, but no blame could be attached to tho consignee, who did all he could to get a higher juice. There has been a good demand for export this season, but it has been confined mainly to tlio medium grades. From Boston the ship ments foot up 1710 bales, against 174 liales for the same time last year, an in crease of 1000 bales. From New York the shipments for the season aggregate 57,500 bales, against 35,600 bales for tlio corresponding time last year, an increase of 21,900 bales. Nobody expects any lioom in liojis this year, but the strong tone of the English market warrants the belief that the prices will bo no lower. The Cooporstown (N. Y.) Journal says: “Some of the New York dealers who are heavy shippers on their own account, and who have several thousand bales in the London market, are holding up for the present, and probably wisely for all concerned. So the shipments for tho next few weeks may bo comparatively light. American brewers may depend upon one thing—and so may city dealers who have sold hops short —hops are not going any lower, with even a very mod erate foreign demand to aid the market. Holders are not inclined to press their hops upon the market at the ruling prices, for they very generally entortain the confident belief that all will bo needed before the close of the season.— Boston Journal, Pensions. The bill of Mr. Watson before the U. 3. Houb6 for increasing by fifty per cent, the pensions now paid to the relatives of deceased soldiers, will, even according to the calculations of its author, affect nearly 125,000 pensions, existing or prospective. As they now carry eight dollars a month, and as they would receive twelvo dollars under this bill, forty-eight dollars a year additional would bo put upon each of them, or about six millions every year in the ag geegate. A London lady has just died, leaving the pope a fortune of nearly §2,000,000. THE CZAR'S LIFE. vAVi:i> ALMOST It Y A MIRACLE—A M YSTLRIOI S VISITOR. A NililliHt %tfl’liipt* nn Inipornoniitlon o! tlir Runnliiii Chief of Police. Among the "forbidden literature” now circulating in Russia is the story of ono of tho most daring and dramatic plots over recorded iu tho history of political as sassination. The narrative is fonudod on events whieh aro said to have taken place in St. Petersburg shortly after General Gonrko had been called from Odessa to act as quasi-military governor of the Russian capital. One bright May morning, when tho excitement was at its height, the watchful eye of a policeman posted at the top of the Nevsky Prospect caught sight of an equipage oomiug up the thoroughfare ut a trot. It boro armorial devices well known in tlio Rus sian capital; the coachman was there, who persisted iu being wigged in defianoe of his master’s orders, to the great merri ment of St. Petersburg Jehus. On each side rode tho regular escort of six mounted Cossacks, each holding his lanco in rest and wearing his ball of forage sluug over his shoulder more as if ho was campaigning on tho Don than ujion civil service in tho streets of tho capital. General Gourko and his escort —tlio guardian of tlio peace lmd easily recognized and hastily saluted his chief, tlio new Prefect of Police—turned into the Cavalry parade, at the top of tlio Nevsky Prospect, and at oneo made their way into the Alexander square, tm the Neva side of which rose the massive and somewhat fantastic outlines of the Winter Palaoe. Tho equipage having drawn up at tlio side entrance of the building tlio general alighted and rang. On the doorkeeper presenting himself— an officer of the Emperor’s private guard —the Prefect briefly stated the object of his visit. He desired an immediate conference with the Czar. The hour was early, true, day having only just dawned. At tho same timo his business brooked no delay—it concerned the Bafoty of the Emperor himself. The janitor was at first inexorable, exjiostulating that liis imperial master had been already in bod an hour. Yet at lust lie yielded. Up the broad staircase they went to gether. They trod on gorgeous carpets, brushed jiast the wealth of the winter palace in mainchito and lapis lazuli, only jiausing in their ascent when they had reached n landing giving access to one of the capacious saloons. At this point General Gourko was instructed to wai*. At this point, too, tlio Czar’s officer seems to have repented of liis decision. Tho narrative represents him as closely scru tinizing tho Prefect of Police in tho growing light, and of subsequently pro ceeding iu the direction of the Em peror’s sleeping apartments, in no great haste to arouse royalty from ils first slumber. The man did not arouse the Czar at all. What he did was to de scend to tho guardroom and dispatch a messenger. Tho man left tho palace on the Neva side. He there took a droshlty, and drove post the side entrance into the Nevsky. Luring liis,absence tlio Czar calmly slept on; General Gourko impatiently paced tlio saloon, aud the military gaurdian of tho imperial bed chamber went about giving some orders to tho palace guards. In a quarter of an hour the messenger returned. Ho had been sent to General Gourko’s residence, in the Nevsky Pros pect, nnd ho brought back tho informa tion that tho Prefect of Poiioo was at that moment in bed. Tho early visitor was thus an imposter. He was some thing more; for from his pockets, after lie had been seized and pinioned, they drew forth a six-barrelled revolver and a two-edged hunting knife. The Czar’* i)l<f had been saved, yet it had hung for a few momenta in the balance. The made up Gourko—tho Prefect of Police, imi tated down to the minutest details of hair, complexion and wig—might liavo deceived even the Emperor himself. Not a whit less perfect was the art which had reproduced the Gonrko conch and escort. Only tho sham Prefect was secured, and not his confederates. Simultaneously with tho arrest guards had rushed from the palace to seize the hitter. But tlio equipage had gono, fho Cossacks were gono, tho coachman wns gone. A policeman afterward told how he had seen the cavalcade pars over one of the Neva bridges and disappeared in a thoroughfare of Basil Island. Tho carriage was never found, and, for all that could be ascertained concerning them or their steeds, the six Cossacks may be mounted and riding, lance in rest, to this day. As for the chief actor in tho plot, tire conspirator who only failed in his impersonation of General Gourko because of his inability to be in two places at one and the same time his personality has never been disclosed. I lie is the one mystery which the nihi- I lists themselves have never been able to ; penetrate. His secret remains with him, and he keeps it to the present moment, : for he is still a prisoner in tho island ! fortress of Peter and Paul. Cannot Talk. —Lieutenant Rhodes, \ the Gay Head disaster hero, says he ; would rather do his work over again than make a speech about it. NO. 14. BLUSHING ANI) LYING. Tl t Popular I'rror Thai ilir Ono I* nu In <lcx ol‘ llie Other. "But didu’t you seo him blush ?" “Well, wliat of that?” “Don't you think he was lying?” “No, I don’t. I know he was telling me tho square truth.” "Loyou know the circumstances ?” “Yes, and I know lie told them just as they were.” “It sounded like a lie, anyway.” “That is why Ho blushed,” said Mr. Denison, a well-known Chicago lawyer, for this talk was taking place in his of fice just after the departure of a young man who had been sued and was seek ing advice from his attorney. “I venture to say no man has hail more trouble than I with blushes, nud 1 think I know some of the causes behind them. You may have noticed that 1 blush on every conceivable occasion. II a question is put to mo quickly, I blush. If I meet a friend slap on tho street— unless I seo him some lime before I reach him —I blush, If anybody speaks my name from behind or from some un expected quarter, I blush. As much ns I have been before juries, I blush every timo an opposing advocate refers to mo as ‘the learned couusel for tlio defense.’ Hang it! I blush on all sorts of occa sions, aud yet I don’t bolievo that any body would say I am an especially modest or bashful man. “No, sir,” oontiuuod the old attorney, “I liavo blushed and blushed all my life, and tho more 1 blush tho more I try not to, and tho more I try not to the more I blush. Above all, tho meanest blush is just such a one ns you Baw ou that young man’s face just now. I know just how lie felt. He knew ho was tell ing a pretty hard Btory, and ho could seo in your face that you didn’t believe him. That’s why ho blushed. If he had been talking to me alone he would not have blushed, becanso he knows I am familiar with the circumstances lie related; hut you looked doubtingly at him, nnd he felt your mistrust so keenly that it brought tho blood to liis face.” After a little pause Mr. Denison con tinued: “I never pay tho least attention to Mushes when examining a witness. Tho blush is not, as is too often believed, the evidenco of a lie. Nor is it a true sig nal of embarrassment. I know that, for I have been told that I was blushing purple when I wns as calm and unem barrassed as I am at this moment There are many causes for my blushes; some of them purely physical, I think; hut often when I am telling something some little personal recollection, per haps, that amounts to nothing—l get it in my head that somebody doubts some part of it. Then I blush. Then I feel that I am blushing, and I say to my self, ‘Now ho will see me blush and will be sure to think I am lying,’ and that makes mo blush all the more, until finally I can feel my face burn and glow liko a coal, and I say to myself, ‘Now he is sure I am lying, and ho thinks I know ho is sure of it,’ and so I stand and blush because I think he doubts mo un til, perhaps, I really make him doubt me bocauso of my blushes.” 4bout Cribbing News. An influential Western member of tho U. S. House, referring to tho Wntterson bill, spoke ns follows concerning it. “The proposition on its face seems fair, but it is deceptive. The value of nows is not in holding it, but in giving it; not in storing it away, but in disseminating it. How can ono expect to retain a prop erty right in that which has no value unless it is given away? What is news? The statement of facts; tlio story of oc currences. If ono gets tho first account of a thing, should ho he permitted to patent it, and secure exclusive right of publishing it? Tlio newspapers liavo ample protection in tho first uso of their own special nows. Tlio first use is about all the value there is in it to tlio first newspaper. The country press can get some benefit by reprinting the news, but this is no injury to the city press; in fact, it is often a benefit, for it is usually credited. Tho country press would be injured by the passago of the bill. It is a scheme of the Metropolitan and Asso ciated Press to confbio the printing of news to their journals.” The Deadly Hair-Dye, A Washington correspondent writes as follows: Senator Farley, of California, has returned to Washington, hut is the shadow of ills former self. He is said to be the victim of hair-dye. Brought to tho verge of the grave, he abandoned its use. His gray Hair and heard are in curious contrast to what they were last session. But for tho excessive loss of flesh and the painful effects of a tong ill ness ho would bo improved iu appear ance by allowing nature to have her way. 1 hope that he will recover his health. Not long ago the most prom inent pawnbroker iu Baltimore died a horrible death from the effects of hair dye. His dreadful fate has alarmed not a few elderly persons who had resorted to the same practice, which is one of imminent deadly peril. Kissing.— lt Is recalled in Honeoye, N. Y., where the bride of Frederick Douglass lived in childhood, that site had to bo whipped by her father, an ac tive abolitionist, to make her kislTDong lass when lie visited the family. THE HUMOROUS PAPERS. WHAT WK UNI* IN THEM TO SMIL* OVKIt THIS WEEK. A NEW VERSION. There is a little boy in this oity whose mother has been reading to him lately Clinrles Follen Adams’s poom entitled “Leodlo Yawcob Strauss,” the conclud ing linos of which aro : “ I prays dc-r Lord dalie anydinfiS, But leavo dot Yawcob Strauss." Tlio other night while saying his prayers the little boy rendered them as follows : “ Now I lay mo down to sleep; I pray tlio Lord my soul tokeop ; If I should die before I wake— I prayder Lord dako an yd in rs, But leave dot Yawcob Straus.," —Somerville Journal, A LARGE DOT OF LIVELY AUNTS. Fond Mamma—“Now, Willie, you a real good boy to-day; hero’s all your aunts come to seo you.” Willie—" Has Aunt Sarah oomo?” Fond Mamma—“Yes, Aunt Sarah, Aunt Dolly, Aunt Mary, Aunt Laura, Aunt Elizabeth, Aunt Cynthia, Aunt—” Willie—“ That’s plenty, mamma, for me. It’s tho biggest nest of aunts I ever struck.” —Chicaqo Sun, AN INTERCHANGE OF COMPLIMENTS. “You, Samuel! oomo right iu here uow, and stop playin’ with that hiel Smith boy,” said Mrs. Jones; “the ilrst thing you know he’ll have you ill jail.” “You, Alexander! come right along in tho house !” yelled the other front door neighbor. “The first tliimr you know you’ll ho in the ponitontiary keepin’ that Jones boy company.”— Kentucky State Journal, WIIO WILL CARE FOR MOTnEn. “You look sad, Birdie—what’s the matter?” wore tho words addressed to Birdie MoHeuipin, by her friend Mollio Squeers, us thoy met on Austin avenue, “I’m not feeling weJl,” “Are you sick ?” “No, I’m not preeisely sick; but I feel tired, overworked.” “I)o tell mo all about it.” “Well, you see, our colored cook is sick, and now poor mother lias to do all tlio cooking, and scrubbing, and wasli iug nnd ironing, and it makes me feel so tired to see tho ohl creature work. Slia is so slow.”— Texas Siftings. nE left rr. “Did you over find anything of valuo, Undo Sy?” I asked, after telling him about finding a pearl ring that morning. “Yeb, sali; I foun’ a pus once, wid ten dollars in it.” “Did you? Well, what did you do with it—yon didu’t keep it, of course ?” “Yeh, Bah; I did dat berry ting. I’s ntriffitly honest; I wouldn’t take no man's pus. I lef’ it whore he oould git it; hut I took de money out fust. You see, k done los’ de money—’twarn’t kis’n no mo’. I douo fin’ it; it was my money den. But do pus was his’n, V long os I livo I ain’t gwino to take no man’s pus,”— Harper’s Drawer. LANGUISHED FOR LOVE. There is a clerk iu an Austin dry goods store who is very susceptible, and ileoply iu love with Miss Esmerelda Longeoffin, who, however, fails and re fuses to reciprocate. She was buying gome goods from him last Tuesday, and sho complained of the high prioes. “We buy all our goixls at your store, and yet you charge us more than you do others. I find you dearer than any one else,” sho observed. The clerk sighed, shook liis bond, and said: “I only wish it were so.” “That what were so?” “That I was dearer to you than any body else.”— Texas Siftings. OENUINE ARISTOCRACY. Miss Shoddyite was introduced to a real livo young Englishman at a dinner party tho other night, and tho next after noon slio was extolling his many fasci nating wiles and graceß to an anxious coterie of female friends. “And then, girls, lie not only waltzes divinely, but he's a great politician, too.” “Oli, my, ain’t that sweet ?” exclaimed a spirituelio girl. “Is ho in the House of Commons ?” ' “Commons, indeed 1” said Miss Shod dyite, scornfully. “I should say not. He would have nothing to do with any I louse of Commons. Why, he is a real aristocrat, he is.” And tho other girls chorused out, “My, ho must bo grand.”— Washington Hatchet. nn DIDN'T TAKE ALL HIS LEEWAY. A government agent, who was sent to Wisconsin last fall to look up trespass eases on government lands, was ont on his travels one day when he found a man winding away at somo choice timber on one of Uncle Sam’s sections. "Any land for sale around here?” queried the agent. "Wall, tliar’ might bo,” was the reply. “J’d like to buy a whole section,” ' ‘Have ye tho cash to pay ?” “I liavo.” “I mouglit sell you this.” “Can you give me a clear deed?” “Clear as a whistle, stranger. Gimme §BOO cash, and I’ll deed you the seotion afore sundown.” The agent coolly unrolled a map, spread it out on a log and said: “You will seo by this map that Uncle Sam owns this section. How, then, can you give me a deed for it?” “See liy’ar, stranger,” said the chop per, after a long pause, “maybe you is one of these chaps as arguefies that Uncle Sam is a bigger man than a free born citizen of old Wisconsin ! I’llgiv’ye Aist three minutes to skip 1” Tho agent didn’t want but two.— Wall Street News,