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inTium-aiM I I I H 111 | | cures and small J J i UIHIII money. A scion 5j a jfl I■P 11 ” loo, i Poison w I 111 VI W Remedy Sure, safe and satisfactory. Purifies the Blood from in fancy to old age. Oue bottle proves its superiority. Hereditary Taint and Scrofu lous symptoms cured. Itching Humors and Glandular Swellings relieved All bad trtiioo b aim IflTTl HI I fl CkiM* Chronic Skin > t g R It I ll* Diseases, Kczema, IBIEg By 11 Itching Humors, * 3 A SJ IH) g 9 | Tetter. Ringworm, U ImllUnVß l< ■!(■', splotches, and all other troubles | of the skm affecting old and young. Re- i duces Scrofulous. fc Glandular Swellings, i Turn rs. Ovarian Tumors,Enlarged Glands, etc. rures catarrh, Ozvena. HinPisease, old I : a; BLOOD BfILM "f* Ellin Cum all ittces of fi f I 88 H| | | "Syphilis and syphi- Rfl 1 H B|| | | litic troubles. Cures Eg | *L9 affS N I ■ >ld cases of ir years’ §3 1 nIB I I |tadmg. Primary ! *jr 12 fi 191 Bw ' re Secondary > • ' -and tc;t buy disease of the bones and ; cr nal organs cured Special and speedy • ief to females suffering from painful, PI pH suppressed and prolonged menstruation, or i f t < <*me eases. Send for pamphlet of hom cures. At all Drug Stores. One bottle, HI. BLOOD HAI M COMPANY. Atlanta, Ga t r s it s- ; in rville by _ j s. cl: cnoitN & co. fTH^^n > 1 e)e) r: 4^ hew Home a ctiin e Vrfp ’ s " b KFECTt^pARTICtJLAR- P j! OUTO^ORDEH. • > ' A .s N0 EQt'At- * FSW HOMf !H G HA6 HIMEG f 3u UN'GN SQUARE NEW YORK ILL. M." - -• GA TOR SALE BY _ - H I \ it ('AIN, HiehAkm DAVIS The lightest running Shuttle Sewing Machine ever produoed. combining greatest simplicity, durability and speed. It is adapted to a greater va riety of practical and fancy work than any other. No basting ever required. For particulars as to prices, &c., and for any desired information, address , THE DAVIS SEWING MACHINE GO., WATERTOWN, N. V. 158 Tremont St., Boston, Mass. 1223 Chestnut St„ Philadelphia, Pa. 113 Public Square, Cleveland, Ohio. 46, 48 & SO Jackson St„ Chic 111, .1. S. (II.EGHOI’.N A- CO. ALABASTiNE A Superior Substitute for Kalsomine. etc. Alabastine Is I he first and only preparation made from calcined gypsum rock, for appli cation to walls with a brush, and ;s fully cuv- | ered by patents and perfected by many years of exjieriment-. It is the only permanent wall linisli, and admits of applying as mmy coats as desired, olio over ane'l.er, to any bard surface, without danger of scalimr. or noticeably adding to the thickness of Ibo wall, which is strengthened and improve I by each additional coat, from time to time, it ie the onlv material for the purpose not de. per,,i n. ' a*. • for 11s adhesivene- . Alabaman 1 is hardened on the wall by age, moisture, etc., while all kalsomines or wliit oniir' preparations have inert soft chalks and "Mue for their base, which arc rendered soft or scaled in a very short time. In addition to the above advantages, Alabastine is less expensive, os it requires but one-half the number of pounds to cover the same amount of surface with two coats, is ready for use by adding water, and easily applied by any one. • * sale by your Paint Dealer. Ask for Circular containing Samples of 12 tints, manufactured only by the Alabaktinf. Cos., \I. 13. Church, Manager, Grand Rapids, Mich. \ xr.w game, similar to hide and seek, is lx coming ' cry popular in this conntrv. It i played as follows: A cm bn r in a bank takes the money of the institution and di-nppeats. then the detectives try to bud linn. If they suc ceed, he comes home and has to pay forfeit. @!jc &ummenriUe (SNjcttc. VOL XI. v- pure: * iaxtU) pai • ns ReadyForUse Olives, Terra Cottas and all the latest 1 fashionable shades for CITY COUNTRY OR SEASIDE. Warranted durable and permanent. Descriptive Lists, showing 32 actual shades, scut on application. For sale by the prinoipal dealers, wholesale and retail, throughout the country. Ask lor them and take no others. BILLINGS, TAYLOR & CO. CLEVELAND, OHIO. *-*- SANDS’ PATENT TRIPLE 'pi. r | I, moun FREEZER®^ The only Froozrr over made h/iving three dintlnrl ti (tioofl ineide the oan, thereby , *>f eoone, prodne ill;; liner an<l enmothcr Cream than any other Freezer on the market. 300,000 in use. Catalogue and luce List bailed upon application. WHITE MOUNTAIN FREEZER CO., NASHUA, N. H. MBnHIMMHmHMMMMi The British in Egypt. There is no help for the nit nation. There are times in every life when men must consent to Vie misunderstood, and go on bearing calumny—or what is worse, candid criticism—from their friends as part of the day’s labor; and the Ministry has arrived at one of those times. They are doing their duty, under circumstances of qnito extraordinary perplexity, as best they know how, and must go on doing it undeterred by any fear either of Lord Randolph Churchill or of consequences. With every step they take they will find that their leader’s splendid dream of saving Egypt without governing it is more and more incapable of realization. If, for instance, they at tempt to save the garrisons by force, or to relieve Khartoum by an army, which, we suppose, they are even now prepar ing, they will find that they will require for more direct control of the Egyptian departments, military, financial, and civil, than they yet possess. They must, to begin with, either ruin Egypt by compelling it to pay for the expedition, or pay the money for the Egypt-, or fiend the money to Egypt; and in, 'either case the responsibility for the fate .of tgypt will KB more urgent than ever.® Still, Mr. Glodstohe is seeking what, if it could be attained, every Englishman would join him in striving to attain; and the country is not going to punish him because he is a little nobler than it self, or than the facts will allow it to be. He will find out l>efore he has done that Egypt is the native home of the mirage; and when lie has found it out, no man can be trusted more implicitly to lead ns to real water. Till then the country must toil on, thirsty, and ill-tempered with thirst, but with an angry certainty that the •desert—the desert without wells—iH not the plaoe for exchanging experienced guides. The mirage will lift yet. —London Spectator. A Desperate Fight. The Apalachicola (Fla.) Tribune de i scribes a combat between a ten-foot man-eater and a seven-foot alligator at I East Pass, the other day. When the i shark spied the alligator he went for him at a lively rate. The alligator waited the onslaught with blinking eyes and open mouth. Seeing his antagonist prepared for him, the,_,ily shark made only a seeming atta and rushed by with increased velocity. When a few feet only intervened, the shark, by a j turn known only to this fish, wheeled with lightning rapidity and pounced upon his enemy. Quick as the move ment was it did not succeed. As the saurian and the fish came together, there was a terrible churning of the waters for a moment, and then the shark darted off a few feet, turned once more quickly upon his stomach, and his pon derous jaws closed upon the saurian s ; middle. There then was a crashing of bones, and for a second the water was dyed with blood, and then one-half of i the defeated foe was seen to disappear I down the cavernous throat of the shark SUMMERVILLE, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY EVENING, JULY Hi, 1884. THE STORY OF A LIFE. Say. what is life? Tia to he born A helpless babe, to greet the light With a sharp wail, as if the morn Foretell a cloudy noon and night To weep, to sleep, and weep again, With sunny smiles between—and then? And then apace the infant grows To be a laughing, sprightly boy, Happy despite his little woes, Were he but conscious of his joy I To be, in short, from two ten, A merry, moody child—and then And then, in coat and trousers clad, To learn to say the decalogue, And break it, an unthinking lad, With mirth nml mischief all agog; A truant oft by field and fen, And capture butterflies— and then ? And then, increased in strength and size, To he anon a youth full grown; A hero in his mother’s eyes, A young Apollo in his own; To imitate the ways of men In fashionable sin and then? And then, at last, to boa man, To fall in love, to woo and wed ! With seething brain to scheme ami plan To gather gold or toil for bread; To sue for fame, with tongue and pen, And gain or lose the prize ! And then in gray and wrinkled eld To mourn the speed of life’s decline; To praise the scenes our youth beheld, And dwell in the memory of lang syne; To dream awhile with darkened ken, To drop into the grave and then ? John G. Saxe. Jennie's M ission. BY ELLA. WHEELER. “Oh, this dull round of small duties, how tired I am of them all, how I wish some grand mission in life would come to me 1” Jennie Orson, the pretty little rclio>l - leaned her chin upon her hand igi she mused in the above manner, and gazed out over tho gray fields, whose dreary plowed furrows were thrusting their ragged faces up through tho rapid ly-disappearing snow-drifts. “Why, how tho snow has gone to day,” she added mentally, as file changed appearance of tho fields struck her eye. It was tho last day of March, and all winter long the snow had been heaped in miniature mountain ranges by the roadsides, and on the fields and meadows. During the last week warm weather had set in, making rapid inroads npon snow and ice. The children came running under the window whore Jennie stood, playing at “Round tho House.” Then they flocked off togother toward the brook that rip pled by the school-house a few rods dis tant. Jennie watched thorn absently. Her mind was not upon her duties that day. Her plodding round in u country school room seemed very dull and mean to her. She sighed for some great and lofty mission. “H I could do someone great act, heroic and noble,” she said to herself, “I would be willing to die then. What is life worth if wo must plod on forever like this ? lam no more than an ant, or a spider, or a squirrel with the lifo I live ! How gladly would I give up the monotony of years of this routine for one hour of sacrifice, heroism, and then welcome death.” How sho hated her homely life as she looked back over his nineteen unevent ful years. She had always livod in this dull oountry place, ever since she was a woe child and her parents had emigrated to the West. She had received her edu cation in this same little school-house, attended divine service there also—as the place boasted no ohuroh edifice— and her only knowledge of the world beyond was obtained by a yearly vikit to fifty miles distant, where t]ie family supplies were purchased, and from a few books and newspapers. Now Bhe was very tired of it all— tired of her dull past, her duller present, her doubt lessly dull fntnre. Even the thought of her fond, tme lover, Jack Kellogg, who was building the house whore she was to reign mistress, annoyed her to day. How poor and monotonous life stretched before her. How much better to perform someone grand act and die, than to live on to old age in this dreamy fashion. It was a very romantic girl who stood there in the little school-room dreaming her discontented dreams, you see. Suddenly she saw by the moon mark that it was time to call in her scholars. She had no bell—for this was in the early days of Wisconsin history, before the railroads hail spread their great iron spider webs all over the State, and Jen nie’s school was conducted on a very primitive plan. Sho took the great ruler, with which she inflicted punish ment on the palms of unruly boys, and rapped loudly on the window. Then she ' sat down and waited for the pupils to ! come trooping in—not with the regula \ tion and order which governs scbool ! rooms in these days, but belter skelter, ■ hurry sknrry, laughing, pushing each I other and playing “tag’ to their ! benches. j “Oh teacher, the creek is getting aw ful high,” said Tommy Smith, as he plunged into his seat. And Jennie di<l not correct him for the improper use of ! “awful,” which proved to be more ap propriate in this case than teacher or pupil supposed. “I suppose the snows are all melting and running into it,” she answered, ab sently, as she took her place at her desk, and by another tap of her ruler indicated (hat the afternoon session of school was now in order. Then sho ran her eye over the room to ee that no pnpils were missing. “Where is Tod Brown?" she asked. 'I do not see him here.” Tod was tho smallest child in tho school, a little boy scarcely five years old, who was placed iu her charge, not so much to learn his primer, as to keep him out of his mother’s way. She was burdened with two smaller than ho be sides a babe iu the cradle. “I left Tod down by tho creek,” an swered Tommy Hmith, "playin’ throw pebbles into tho water. I told himsohoo 1 was called.” “You should have brought him along. Tod is only a child,"Jenniesaid, reprov ingly. “But go and bring him now; and hurry, for your lesson in arithmetic comes on directly.” Tommy caino back iu a brief space of time, white and frightened. “Tod is at aimin' on a stone andoryin’, and the water’s all round him,” he said. “I couldn’t got near him at all.” The whole school roso en masse, and .Temiie at tho head of tho small army led on to the rescue of Tod. Yes, there he stood on a stone which a little Maie before had been on tho shore; but now, alas, was in the midst of tho rapidly-swelling stream, beyond the reach of any in that, little group. “Mamma! mamma,” he called iu piteous tones, “come and take Tod. Tod is 'frald. Come, mamma, come !’’ iTenuio looked over her little floek of pupils who crowded about her. Not one of them was largo enough to wade out and rescue Tod. Tho only boy in her school who might safely have attempted this had remained at homo that day to assist his father. The water was rising higher ovory moment. What was to he done must bo done quickly, or the angry waves would seize poor little Toil and sweep him away down tho swelling stream. “John cried Jennie, speaking to the largest hoy in the flock, “you stand hero on tho bank, whilo I wade out to Tod. I shall want you to take him from my arms as soon as I have him safe. Homo of tho larger girls must hold fast to your coat, so that you do not fall into the stream.” Then Jennie drow her skirts close about her slight figure and plunged bravely into the cold waters, sinking almost to her waist at the first step. Slowly, slowly, she hhtdo her way to ward the crying child, t ho waves rushing up higher over his feet every moment. Tho little flock on the shore huddled togother like frightened lambs, watching their teacher with wide, distended eyes and sobbing out I heir fear and terror, as sho slowly forced her way against tho waves. Another effort, another plunge and she had him iu her arms. Then she tried to make her way back to shore, but the waters were growing more furious every moment, as if angored at the loss of their prey. They almost swept her from her feet—they dashed above her Hhoulder, and her little burden screamed and struggled with terror, making her task tenfold more difficult. “Just another step, teacher, and I’ll .’atch hold of him,” cried John from the shore, reaching out almost his whole length over the waters, while two sob bing girls held fast to the skirts of his mat. it was an exciting scene, a wild mo ment of suspense. Jennie’s face was white as chiseled marble; her long black hair had fallen from its fastenings and floated back over the billows like a dark mantle; her eyes were large with fear, her mouth drawn with pain, and her slender form swayed as if her strength were well nigh xhansted. With one last mighty effort she laid her burden in John’s outstretched arms. Tod was saved ! A wild shout of joy and triumph roso from the excited band on shore, and they flocked about the prostrate form of the almost inanimate child. Just then a great wave swept down npon Jennie, lifted her from her feet, just as she was about to grasp tho shore, and bore her rapidly down the stream like a light piece of driftwood. As she was whirled away the whole events of her past life arose before her ; that life, which only an hour before seemed so poor and mean and dull to her. Ah, now how precious and bright and beautiful it became ! She remem bered her rash wish, that she might he given some ono heroic act to perform and then die. Tho act had been granted her almost instantly, and sho had per formed it heroically. But now must she carry out tho remainder of iier thought, and die 1 Oh, death was so dark—so cold ; the unknown scorned so terrible ; she was so young, and life was so sweet 1 She thought of Jack, her lover, and the half-completed house. Life with lu'm there, that an hour before had seemed a dreary, monotonous waste, ' shone upon her like the departing shores of some lost paradise. Oh, to see his dear eyes smiling fondly upon ■ her, onoe more to hoar his voice; life, youth, love, how precious they all were I Then all grew blank. “Jack, Jaek, I am so cold. Oh, God 1 savo me- pity- - forgive," she cried, and then Hank away into unconsciousness. Two miles below the sohool-house they found her tossed on shore with a mass of driftwood. Quite dead they pronounced her at first, and the old vil lage doctor oonflrmed the assertion. But Jack Kellogg would not liston to any of them. “She is not dead,” he oriod. "How dare you tell me suoh a tiling ! Sho is nlivo, and will look up and smile in my face before tho day passes. ” They shook their heads, and thought the poor boy had gone mad, ns lie set to work over her. But they all lout a help ing baud, and ovory restorative known to them was applied to the pallid figure of the young girl. It was horns before they saw any signs of returning life. Then she drew a deep, quivering sigh, opened her oyes and smiled, even os Jack had said sho would, into his loving face bout anxious ly above her. “Is this heaven?" she asked in a whis per. “I thought I died !” “You wont out clear to tho very threshold of death,” Jack answered, as lie clasped her in his arms, “lint, love was strong enough to bring you back. ” lie Wisconsin. RAM HAIM) DEAD AT <O. A <'oiin|lciioiin Flaurr In Hnriitl nml INililU ml I,Hr. It is said of the late notable Sam j Ward that after Ins house in No* York ■ failed, in 1817, through a heavy specula- J tion in wheat Ward found himself a poor i man. After drifting around for a time, | he was seized with the gold fever, and ‘ went to California as one of the ’ liters. I There, with ex Governor Price, of Now Jersey, ho established a mercantile and auction house, and rapidly accumulated ; a large fortune. This ho lost in a fire, j and then ho tried his hand at mining, | but with poor success. Discouraged | and disgusted with civilization, it is said that ho took refuge among tho Indians, and taught them to cook dog so lucionsly tlmt they elected him chief of the tribe. Ho lived in Mexico, Europe and this . country. He went to Washington, and | there ho found an occupation entirely congonial to his nature. He becamo a lobbyist, and was so successful and pop ular that he was known as the “King of the Lobby.” He livod in Washington for many years, and gave innumerable dinners, the reputation of which spread over the land. It was his profession to win Congressmen over by ttiese dinners and by his fine liquors, of which none had so fine a judgment. Ho hud a fac ulty of bringing enemies together at these dinners and sending them away friends. He ato very sparingly himself and therein was the secret of his good health. Though he received a great deal of money at Washington, ho never saved any of it, and he remained a poor man until 1881. Then he met Mr. James R. Keene, who had recently came on to Now York from California. He became Mr. Keeno's boon companion, and was ad mitted to a share in his speculations, and from them he realized a fortune esti mated at half a million dollars. When Keene was takeu seriously sick, Ward nursed him and took him to Long Branch and other places for his health. Ho now resumed his course of dinner giving in Now York. Ho gave dinners to Oscar Wildo, Mrs. Langtry, and other celebrities. Ho was a member of the Now York Club, and was often seen there. Within a year he lost the greater part of his last fortune in unfortunate speculations, and, as a result, in the fall ho left for Europo rather suddenly. He laid he wanted to go where he could live cheaply, and that he did not intend to return. He died in Loudon at the age of seventy jeers. A Fashionable Wedding. One of the most fashionable and at the sam<j timo ono of the most strangely assorted marriages of the sea son was solemnized in St, Peter’s Church, Eaton Square, London. Tho bride groom was Sir John Lubbock, Bart., a partaer in the immensely wealthy bank ing house of Roberto, Lubbock & Cos., M. P. for London University, a Fellow of the Royal Society and a well known dilottanto scientist, especially iu the do main of entomology and natural history. He is a rich widower, just fifty years of age, very tall and thin; has a thin, pip ing voice, weak, squinting eyes, and haH been for years a martyr to gout, which oonfines him to his bed most of the time. His last appearance in the House of Commons was at the time of the divis ion on tho vote of censure, when he left his siok bed and hobbled on crutches to his place in the Houso to givo his voto to the government. Ho managed lo discard his crutches nn tho wedding day, and marched brave ly down the aisle of St. Peter's with his feet enveloped in huge cloth boots, und as he stood before the altar he repeated Ihe marriage vows in a troubled, quer rulous voice, to an accompaniment of spasms of pain from the gout. Tho bride was Miss Fox Pitt, daugli tor of General Rivers Pitt, of the British army, and the granddaughter of a peer. She is both young and beautiful, ami was superbly dressed in a robe of ivory satin brocade, trimmed with orange blossoms and lilies of the valley, and garnished with pearl and diamond stars, tho cos tume being valued at $3,000 None trifle with God and make sport of sin so much as those whose way of livings interfere with their prayers; who pray perhaps for sobriety and wait daily for an answer to that prayer at a merry 1 meeting or a tavern, NO. 2l>. €Ol.. CARD AND HIS DEAD SON. Itriirct* Thnt tlio Yoiiiim Jinn llnd Not llcon I’.roiiulil lo .liinHco. A letter from Columbia, S. C., says tho recent tragio death of W. Bogan Cash, only son of Col. E. B. 0. Cash, is still the theme of public comment, and | there are two views of the matter. No ono questions the justice of the fate which overtook him, whilo public feel ing is fairly dividod as between those who would lmvo preferred that tho de ceased had so acted as to let the law mete out the punishment for his crimes, ns a jury of his countrymen would have unhesitatingly determined. The young man had been of a turbulent character his whole life. He had been a principal in two duels, instigated a third, killed a pence ofllcor, mortally wounded an inof fensive citizen, and finally mot his death with 'Jh wounds while resisting a Sheriff’s posse. Young Cash lmd inherited all of the violent traits of his father, and neither of them could conceive of nuy atonement for real or fancied wrongs save by tho shedding of blood. Both of them were men of excellent educational training, and tho father was possessed of generous impulses, but tho love of strong drink and disregard for human life debased their natures. Col. Cash will be brought to trial the latter part of this or the first of next month on the charge of being an acces sory before and after the killing of Town Marshall Richards and the mortal wounding of James Coward. While there never was much expectation of his conviction, it is probable that the death of his son, the principal actor in tho double deed of blood, will have appeased public wrath to justify the acquittal or very mild punishment of the old man, whoso lifo is now a complete wreck in every respect. Col. Cash lias two daughters—one married, who, with her husband and child, was at her father's houso when her brother was killed, and a single daughter, who teaches a school in Spartanburg, S. O. It is probable that the father would have been buried* in the same grave with his son had Bogan Cash been hemmed in at the paternal mansion, but Bogan was surrounded in a barn on his own plantation, about five miles from Col. Cash's homo. Aservaut of the household, upon being asked how the Colonel took the death of his son, replied: “Mighty hard 1 Mighty hard !” James Coward, tho unfortunnto vic tim of Bogan Cash’s pistol practioo, still lingers, with no possible hope of recov ery, and with no immediate prospect of release from his sufferings. His entire body below the wound continues par alyzed. Where the ball entored and where it was extracted have healod over and seem healthy, but bad sores aro forming. Coward is very cheerful under tho circumstances. THE CZAR DOOMED 10 DIE. Tho NIHIIIhIs Flnrnrd ti Drrroo Warning Him oI 11 In Fme. Reports from Russia says that tho Russian Nihilists have renewed their ac tivity and begun anew campaign of ter rorism in tho province of Moscow. They lmvo placarded that province and its cap ital with hundreds of copies of a mani festo conveying a threat of death to the Czar. As those placards were all posted on the same night, ami as each person engaged in the work could have posted but very few of them owing to the neces sity of avoiding the police, it is evident that the Nihilists must have in their ranks a largo number who aro willing to risk their liberty in the proscoution of such an enterprise. The proclamation reminds the he was warned in May, 1881, that if ho would avoid the fate whioh had Jwfellen his father two ’months before, he must grant a consti tutional form of government and organ ise a parliament composed of representa tives of tho people. During the three years that have followed this warning, the proclamation says, the revolutionists have suspended their agitation, but now that this warning lias been so long un heeded they inform the Czar that he must bo prepared to be dealt with as pitilessly and removed as suddenly as his father and predecessor. The police tore down the placards before moat of the citizens were stirring, and have made strenuous efforts to find the persons who printed and posted them. Many students of both sexes hnvo been arrested on sus picion, and a thorough search has been made of the offices of all newspaporH and printers suspected of disloyalty. None i of tho peculiar type used in priuting the ; placards has been discovered, however, | and the police believe thnt it was molted ! up immediately after being used. - Cabeful.—Prof. Reuger, on feeding ; his monkeys, in Paraguay, with eggs, { observed that at first they smashed them j and then wasted much of their contents; but they soon learned to hit one end j against some hard body and pick off the ! 1 iits with their paws, and if they out them i selves onoe with any sharp tool, they would either not touch it again or handle it with tho greatest caution. Lumps of I sugar were given them wrapped up in paper, and sometimes a live wasp ! was put in to try them, so that in hastily j opening the paper they got stung; but after this had once ocourred they always i held the packet to their ears to detect : anv movement. Disease comes in by hundred weights 1 and goes out by ounces. THE HUMOROUS PALMiRS. WHAT WU riNI) IN Tllll.U TO 5H11.15 OVBK. AN OLD FABLE liEVTSKD. “Look boro, waiter,” called a feeder at a city restaurant, “look at tho Imir 1 found in this turtle soup.” “Yes, I see, You lmvo hoard of that famous race between the turtle and the hare ?" “Yes. What of it?” “Why, in this case the hair and tur tle c-amo ill oven.” —The Ilousier. THE CLANS OATnEBINO. “Where is the bar?" asked a gentle man, hurriedly, as lie registered at a Chicago hotel. "Just around to the left, sir." “Where is the bar?” asked another gentleman, at the same place n moment later. "Just around to tho loft, sir.” “Where is the ha ” "Just around to tho left, sir. By Jove,” Hie clerk continued, “tho dele gates are beginning to come in.”— Tin ; Call. WIT AT THE DISEASE WAS. Dumley came into the dining-room and, costing a sweeping glance over the table, jammed down into bis chair and muttered under his breath: • ‘Liver again, of course. We’ve had liver every morning for two weeks.” “What's the matter, Mr. DumloyV” asked the landlady; “arn’t- you feeling well this morning ?” “No, madam,” he replied, shortly, “I am suffering with liver complaint.”- Phi!a. Pur. Call. MORTAK FOR MASONS. “I can’t finish plastering your house until I get more sand,” said a plasterer to a grooeryman tho othor day. “How much sand will you require?” asked the grocervman. “About throe bushels will do, I guess.” “Hero, John,” said tho grocervman, “roll out another barrel of that brown sugar and send it up to my new house. I want to keep the plasterers at work.” "That won’t do,” said the plasterer. "Why, isn’t that good Baud?” “Not very good; and besides, those bees in the garden will bo constantly trying to Buck tho sweetness out of tho sand after it is plastered on the walls.” “Not much, my friend. Guess you lon’t know my sugar. If tho bees suck any sweetness out of it they will do some of tho dangdest iiardest sucking you over saw I” —Paris JScaeon. A MATCH. Mr. Olewdrop was slowly walking down Alabama street when he saw one of his friends wildly striding toward him. “Wlmt is your hurry ?" askod Mr. 0., catchiug him by tho coat. “Don’t stop me ! ’ yelled tho other, struggling to get free, “turn me loose.” “Anything wrong ?” gasped Olew drop. “No, no, but let me go.” “What are you rustling so for ?” “Oh, hang it, I’m walking for a match." “If that's all,” smiled Olewdrop, feel ing in his vest pocket, “I can givo you one without your walking yourself to death for a match.”-— Atlanla Constitu tion. METRICAL, BUT NOT MUSICAL. "You look like a poet,” laughed I lie funny editor, as the handsomely dressed youngster entered. The boy smiled and began fumbling in his pocket. ‘Maybe yon write songs, too,” sng gested tho newspaper man. “Yes, sometimes,” was the answer. “Have yon got ono for me ?” “Yes, I think I have.” | “Is it snng by long or short metro?” By this time the young man had fished out a document, which he threw down, yelling excitedly : “Neither, my friend, it is sting by the gas metre.’’ It was a gas bill for $lO. —Atlanta Constitution. THE CIFFKIIINare. New York Broker —"No, dear, I cau -1 not take you to Saratoga this year.” His Wife—“ You can’t, indeed? I ' should like to know why.” “I can’t afford it.” ' “The idea I Why, the Simpersins are ] going to Newport just thd same as usual, ! and Siinpcrum has failed, too.” “Exactly, my dear, and I haven’t.” I “Well?” “Why, I have to stay at home and nay my debts.”— Philo,. Eve. Call. Time for a Change. During the oampaign when John A Dix ran a seoond time for Governor of the State of New York, he happened to walk to the beach at WeHtliampton one day, and met on his way an old fisher man who was mending his nets. Tho ; fisherman did not know the Governor, i so Gov. Dix asked him: “Well, how’s i polities down hero?” “Kinder quiet,” said the old man. “J don’t take much interest, but I’m agin Dix.” “What’s the matter with Dix ?” asked the Gov ernor; “hasn’t lie done well at Albany ?” “Fust rate,” said the fisherman, “fust rate; 1 lmin’t got a woid agin him.’ “Then why won’t you voto for him ?” “Wall,” said the fisherman, “eels is a gittin’ scarce, and I think it’s 'bout | timo fur a change." Striking Scene at an Inquest. Tho interest in the Ourran murder ! case in Toronto, was increased at tho . inquest when the detectives brought forward as a witness a deaf muto, a shoemaker, who saw from his bedroom window tho altercation and the intli"- tion of the fatal wound. The men, George Falvey and James Neil, who were arrested on suspicion, but against whom there was no evidence, were pres ent, and the deaf mute, who can read and write, on being asked who stabbed Ourran, went and laid his hand upon th< prisoner Falvey.