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new Home k•' A -. , , fl _ p |S ■pl /' I s&! 1- :: • <. i -- - -• , | J’43 No E qUAL . y 30 UNION SQUARE NEW YORK 22 O V-4*'<?x> bSUA/v> i ill mass GA. 4 rOR SALE BY i ’m“\ in: gain. _ SUMMERVILLE, GA. ' <-*IV NEW OfiVIS The lightest running Shuttle Sewing Machine ever produced, 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 CO., WATERTOWN, N. Y. 158 Tremor t St.. Boston, Mass, 1223 Chestnut St., Philadelphia, Pa. 113 Public Square, Cleveland, Ohio. 46, -18 & 50 Jackson St., Chica;? , 111. For sale in Snninn-rvillp by J. S. I'Ll-, /.HORN * CO. ALA' A S ii}. er lor Sub sti I uto for Kalsoaiine, etc Alnbasline i - fl.' and o«L/ preparation made Item <■ ■ - ! l-,r aoj.li- ■ in ::sy coals a- : . -- r.. her, to any han I surface, without d.utter of scaling, or noticeably adding to Hie thickness of the wall, winch i <tien_ hened and improve i y each additional ceat. from time to time. It, lathe only material for the purpose not de jiendent upon gi.ie for its adhesiveness. Alabastihe i.i hardened on the wall by age, moisture, etc., while all kalsomines or whit ening preparation< hav inert soft chalks and glue for their br.s-. vdiid; ,re rendered soft or sealed in a very short time. In ii'Milio to the ave advantages, Aialia tme - :•-s expensive, ?s it requires but one-haif the number of pounds tt> cover the - iini- -ntof s i ice with two coats, l. ri-.ulv for u-•• by adding water, and easily applied by :. sy one. Fw -ale by your Paint Dealer. Ask for C rcu! r cm.i.dnmg Sampl‘-i of 12 tints. m. <m! ? by the An»i -tixe Co.. ' -■ 1. '.lan: , G .:ri Kapids. Mich. -a PURE x PAINTS ReadyForUse Olives, Terra Cottas and all the latest fashionable shades for CITY COUNTRY OR SEASIDE. Warranted durable and permanent. Descriptive Lists, showing 32 actual shades, sent on application- For sale by the principal dealers, wholesale and retail, throughout the country. Ask for them and take no others. BiLUNGS, TAYLOR & GO. CLEVELAND, OHIO, A Caution. The terrible ravages of cholera in Naples furnish another example of the suffering which one-haif the world must undergo because the other half will not obev the simplest laws of health. This same, epidemic which is now terrorizing a large Europe also attests the influence wnich the habits of men on one side of the globe exert upon the well being of th r fellows on the other side. A host of unclean pilgrim, on the banks of the Ganges breeds which i spreads like a c -.rse over the earth, r.ig- ■ ing the fiercest where it finds the most ■ nneiesnliness. In these days no part of ■■ @ljc Q?iijctte. VOL XI. SUMMERVILLE. GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY EVENING, OCTOBER 22, 1884. NO. 40. - SANDS' —— PATENT TRIPLE Ml J r A BKr. 11 W The only Freezer ever made having three distinct motions inside the can, thereby, of course, produc ing finer and smoother Cream than any other Freezer on the market. 300,000 in use. Catalogue and Price List Bailed upon application. WHITE MOUNTAIN FREEZER CO., NASHUA, N. H. The Liine-Ktln Club. nir PRESIDENT lEM.S HOW ITS FINANCES AKE HUN TO PREVENT PECULATIONS. I Fur a quarter of an hour previous to the opening of the meeting Brother (i miner seemed to be puzzled over the . contents of a letter, and when the tri | angle sounded lie arose and said: “Ileah am a communication from the Treasury Department in which the ques tion am axed if our treasurer kin git away wid our club funds, and if not, why not. lam also in receipt of seberal odder letters kindly holdin’ out de warnin’ dat dis am de aigeof onsartinty, an’ dat we should hev an eye on de ; pnsson who carries de key to our cash- I box. ‘‘fiber since dis club had its fust nickel in de treasury wo hev recognized two fundamental facts: 1. De man who dean’ git a chance to steal am obleeged to be honest. 2. He who am thoroughly honest won’t object to sartin restrick shuns. Dar’ nebber has been an’ ueb ber Will be a time when our treasurer kin lay his hands on ’null money to pay his fare fifty miles by rail. While we respeck him, we remove all tempta shnn. While we hev confidence in his integrity, we feel dat he am but human arter all. Fur de satisfackshun of de members of de club an’ de friendly pub lic I will make au explanashun. “Our cashier am permitted to handle SI per week fur current expenses. What ho expends goes frew de hands of de janitor. Boas of dese offlshuls nans’ submit sworn vouchers at de eand of each week. Dem vouchers mils’ agree or dar’ will be a rumpus. As to onr large cash surplus, dat am deposited in a bank. To draw out any porshun of it a check mus’ be signed by de presi dent, secretary and treasurer, an’ de pnsson who goes to de bank mus’ be accompanied by two p’leeeemen. De rent of dis hall am paid in de presence of de Finance Committee, an’ all moneys received am counted and sworn to by the Committee on Srfety. As I said at de start, we believe everybody to be honest, but, at de same time we believe it am cheaper to watch our cash dan to hire detectives to run after our treasurer.”— DeroH Free Pre.Kt. Musical Sand. A paper read before the Science Asso ciation on “Musical Sands," was of popular interest. It is the joint work of Miss H. Carrington Bolton and Alexis A. Julien, but was presented by the lat ter. An interesting account was given of the wide distribution of this sand, some of it having been found at Far Rockaway, at Long Branch and other points of the eastern cogst of the United States. Mr. Julien showed some of this sand to the audience, and also explained its peculiarities. When put in a bag (in this case it was a stocking) and sud dely compressed it emits a sound which is not unlike that produced by a violin when the finger rests lightly npon the string. It is not a sustained sound though, but ceases when the highest point of compression has been reached. It is not easily distinguishable from ordinary sand, and it retains its peculiar properties only under certain conditions of the atmosphere. It never emits sounds when wet, and it does not regain its sonorousness after it baa once had its music squeezed out of it. Bathers fre quently experience a tickling sensation on the soles of their feet, when walking \ barefooted, or even with bathing-shoes, on the beach. The sensation is due to the presence of musical sand. Mr. Ju lien thought that the sand might have electrical properties, but he was not pre pared to support this proposition. The study of these phenomena had occupied him and his colleague for several months, in the course of which they had ex- I amined and found musical sand to exist I in different parts of the world. He i hoped, at some future time, to give more i ; at.actory data concerning it. When a man goes into a store and iiiys a pocketbook and has it charged •he question naturally arises, “Wha. | lr . want it for?” — l ■*■ - - ~ '■ :■ Ohio there is one divorce in every ■ sever, marriages. T. ■ other six pairs I arepr< b.ibly boarding with their parents. THE STAB-SPANGLED BANNED Ob, say, can you see by the dawn’s early light. What so proudly we baited at the twilight’s last gleaming; Whose bro id stripes and bright stars thro' the peril us light U’er the ramparts we watched wore go gal lantly streaming; And the rocket's red glare, the b nibs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was st’ll there. Oh, say, does the star-spangled bannei y< t wave O'er the land < f the free and the homo of the brave. On the s! ore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where’s the foe’s haughty host in dread silr-nce reposes, What is that which the breeze, o’er the tower ing steep, As it fitfully blows half conceals, half dis closes? Now* it catches the gleam of the morning’s first b am, In full glory reflected, now shines in the stream. ’Tis the star-spangled banner I Oh, long may it wave O’er the land of the free and the homo of the bravo. \nd where is that band who so vain.tingly swore That the havoc of war and the battle’s con fits on, A home and a country should leave us no more ? Their blood has washed out their foul foot steps’ pollution; No refuge can save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave; And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave O'er the hind of the free and the home of the brave. Oh, thus be i’ « ver when freemen shall stand Between their loved home and war's desola tion; Blest with victory and peace, may the heaven-rescued land Praise the power that hath made and preserved us a nation. Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, And this lx* our motto: “In God is our trust.” And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave O’er the land of thp free and the home of the bi avO. AN OLD WOMAN’S TALE. It is an old tale, the experience of age striving in vain to temper the enthu siasm of youth. I am a mother now; and a sedate matron may well sigh to remember how she loved to think her old friends splenetic through infirmity, dearly as she loved them, rather than abate one atom of the fairy visions which daneed nmnnd her. And when the arch enchanter, Love, waved his wand, and bathed earth and sea and sky in hues of purple and gold, how cruel seemed the hand, thongh stretched in tenderest watchfulness, that would fain have brought her back to the sober hues of reality. In the arrogance of youth, of beauty, we forget that our kind monitor has felt as we feel the same fond trust, the same ecstatic hope, and can say, “I, too, shepherd, in Arcadia dwelt.” 1 have never known the blessed care of a mother, but her venerable parent was permitted to watch over our or phaned childhood. I can now under stand her earnest and prayerful anxiety, as we grew up to womanhood, and the time for our settling in life drew near. I can feel with her now, though in my inexperience I conld not then, for I, too, have fair girls to guard, whose hap piness here and hereafter is entwined with my very heartstrings I remember the day on which my father told our grandmother of my en gagement to your father. I was then, my Margaret, young and light-hearted as yourself, and dear grandmamma laid her withered hand on the curls which clustered in golden luxuriance, and tears dropped slowly down her venera ble cheeks, "Do not grieve, dear grandma ; ’ shall not leave you for a long time yet; and,” I added, pressing her hand in both of mine, “I shall see you very often.” Here my own tears began to flow, foi in the engrossment of my new feelings I had scarcely dwelt on the severing of old ties, which my new engagement would involve. “It is no selfish grief that thus as Aids me, ’ said my beloved monitor. “I would not cloud your young spirits, nor dim the hopes which are said to bless the morning of life and fit us for the burden and heat of the day; but yon, my Grace, remind me of my cherished danghter Agnes, whose early death you have often heard me lament. I will now tell you something of her life, and if it makes you rejoice with trembling am’d vour present happiness, that happiness will be more likely to endure. From he: Infancy I had watched over Agnes with a more fearful tenderness than any other of my children. Hers was a char acter strangely made up of quick and joyous impulse, and deep, unsuspected feeling. She seemed altogether with out that cowardice so often attributed to women as a reproach, but which, in a world of dangers, often serves her as well as the cautiousness of wisdom. Meanness and cunning she swirned, and the petty artifice so common in both sexes was never found in her. Her spirits were high and untamable—some times to wildness; but if unkindly or harshly rebuked, none so utterly sub dued, Can you wonder, then, that 1 watched over ner as If she were some precious vessel sent out on a sea full of rocks, quicksands and whirlpools ? I used often to pray that, bo her lot in life what it might be, she might ever feel the balm of loving looks and kind words. ” "And what was her lot in life, dear grandmamma, and was she happy ? Do tell me all about her. Was she pretty ?” "She was not so fair as her sister Grace,” continued grandmamma; “but there was a variety in the play of her features, and a playfulness of manner, which made her generally admired. At the age of eighteen her hand was asked in marriage by a young merchant, Ar thur Walforth, and before I was aware of her danger her heart was his. I say danger, because sho was too young to encounter the cares of married life, and the uncertainties of trade press heavily on the wife of a merchant. She suffers from the variation of her husband’s spir its, and she is a highly favored woman if his temper, too, do not suffer; and my Agnes' tender yet high spirit was, I knew, ill-fitted for such trials. Arthur was an intelligent young man, of high character, and most honorable in all his dealings. It was, however, his misfor tune to have for a mother a weak and ir ritable woman, whom prosperity had not improved. She was surrounded with blessings but was constantly complain ing, and as her education had not strengthened her mind, nor a watchful self-denial improved her heart, she was likely to impress upon her son’s mind a very low opinion of all women. I, my dear Grace, was honored by my husband with his entire confidence, and I tried to return his trust by being indeed a help mate for him. If a woman does not know the state of her husband’s affairs she is defrauded of what is justly her due—the privilege of advising with him and of uniting with him in his efforts to do just ly to all men. About a year after Agnes’ marriage the crisis occurred in the com mercial world which laid many lofty houses low. I often surprised Agnes in tears, but she said nothing to me; and 1 have always made it a principle not to inquire into family segrajs. 1 have seen so much evil from the well-meaning but ill-judged reluctance which many a mother feels to give up to her daugh ter’s husband, in good faith and sinceri ty, tbd secrets of that daughter’s heart. But one day my Agnes came to my house and rushed upstairs to my l>od room. I followed her and secured the door; and I was then grieved to hear her mbbing bitterly and in an agony of sorrow. “ 'Can I give yon any comfort or ad vice, my darling? Confide in your mother, and perhaps I may be able to console you.' “ 'Oh 1 my husband, my husband 1 Ho has used me cruelly; he has not been open with me; he might have told me the state of his affairs. lam not a child. I conld bear poverty. I conld live anywhere, and labor for him, as many are obliged to do; but this erne’ reserve—oh, it will hill me?’ “ ‘Agnes, my child,’ 1 answered, ‘now’s your time of trial. You know where to look for strength; and oh, beware of a rebellious spirit 1 Strive to be patient and tell me all you fear.’ “ 'Our head clerk has just been to onr house, mamma, and he tells me that his master has gone to London, and his re turn is uncertain; and he has left a re quest to me that I will come and stay with you until his affairs are arranged one way or other. lam more hurt by his allowing me to learn all this from a stranger than shocked at his ruin; for we are both young and may hope for better times. But oh, mother, there are many things which I might have done without, and now the people will suspect me of having known our cir cumstances all along, and I shall have the disgrace of being suspected of dis honesty.’ “‘Alas 1 Agnes,’ I said, ‘yours is a common case. To a woman of integrity it is indeed a sore trial to be thought ca pable of wronging any tradesman; but do not injure yonr health by this violent grief. You are, whatever happens, our dearly beloved danghter, and now, for Grace’s sake, and for your father’s and mine, try to compose yourself.’ “I knew that this appeal to her fam ily affection would .have a strong effect on her generous nature; for Agnes, in becoming a wife, had not ceased to be a dntifnl daughter; and her love for her sister, your dear mother, my Grace, was beautiful to behold. “She was delicate even then, and re quired the tenderest care—too gentle and unselfish for the world. She was even then more like a heavenly than an ea’thly be'ng ‘‘When she saw Agnes come down with the marks of tears on her cheeks, she strove by every tender attention to soothe and cheer her; and I sighed to see her gentle offices lavished in vain. “Our dear Agnes was wounded to the quick by her husband’s want of confi dence, and we could not cheer her. “In a short time, however, Arthur’s affairs wera wound up—all claims were satisfied, and he resumed his business with a good prospect of success; bnt he had lost one possession more valuable than gold—the confidence of his wife was gone forever. “There was.® restlessness and anxiety about Agnes which never left her. She refused ever again to take the most trifling thing on credit; and once, when he hesitatingly alluded to her pru dence, as he termed it, she replied, ‘I have been treated like a child, Arthur, and you must remember a burnt child dreads the fire. If I am not to be trusted, I will avoid being duped.’ "She died at the age of six-and twenty, after a short illness; but I shall always think that her indignation and anguish of mind ha 1 p ivod the way for her early death.” My grandmother ceased, and seemed lost in thought; then she added, “You, too, Grace, are about to marry a mer chant, and I have told yon this sad story in order to impress upon your mind that the romantic feeling of first love is not sufficient to happiness in the married life. There must be mutual confidence, or the yoke will press I', aavily indeed on the helpless woman. Before you marry, make it a condition that no deception of any kind or degree be permitted be tween you. Unless a man confides in his wife he does both her and himself irreparable wrong. ” I took my dear grandmother’s ad vice, and, as far as this varied scene ad mits of happiness, happiness has been mine. Injured in a Fight. CLOTHIERS REFUSING TO GIVE SUSPEND KUS WITH A SUIT OF CLOTHES. A letter from Montana, Penn., says: This place has been the scene of n gen eral fight, in which about fifty men, Hungarians and Polanders, participated, many of whom were seriously, if not fatally, injured. The resident Polish and Hungarian miners have been buy ing their clothing from a Hebrew clothier in a neighboring town. A large order had been given out some weeks ago, and the Hebrews came to Mon tana to deliver the goods. A dispute arose about some trifling matter, followed by a positive refusal on the part of the residents to take the cloth ing. The clothiers became indignant, and opened war on the inhabitants. The latter made a fierce attack on the Hebrews, taking their packs and ston ing them out of town. Abont 2 o’clock in the morning the Hebrews returned to Montana accompanied by several offi cers, who proceeded to handcuff the Polanders and Hungarians. A few of them quietly submitted, bnt the others openly defied the authorities and refused to be taken into custody. In the meantime about seventy-five of their friends attacked the officers, who were forced to surrender, leaving the attacking party masters of the situ ation. The officers retreated, but subsequently returned with reinforce ments. Another attack was made on them and a general row was the result. The officers drew their revolvers and fired several shots into the crowd, and the latter sent a volley of stones and clubs down upon the officers, bnt with out seriously injuring any of them. The officers fired a second time at the mob, which took effect. A ball entered the back of one of the crowd and he is fatally injured. About ten or twelve were seriously wounded, but the shoot ing had the effect of restoring peace, when those who had not escaped to the mountains were taken into custody and held for a hearing. An effort is now being made to secure the arrest of the entire party, many of whom are con cealed in the woods, but the authorities expect to capture them. In speaking of the matter, the clothiers say the trouble grew out of their refusal to give a pair of suspenders with each suit of clothes Husband and Wife Separated. A correspondent of the Madagascar Times says: If we are rightly informed we have to deplore another unnecessa ry and uncalled for departure from that international courtesy which should characterize such a chivalric nation as France. It appears that an American vessel lately pnt in at Tamatave, the captain’s wife being seriously sick. One of the French doctors was accordingly summoned to attend the lady, and de clared that the patient must be carried on shore if any hope was to be enter tained for her recovery. The lady was carried in a boat in a most precarious condition, accompanied by the said doc tor and her husband. As soon, however, as they approached the shore, the hus band was forbidden to land, and no amount of entreaty could induce the au thorities to forbear. He was thus obliged to return to his ship and leave his wife on shore. Three days pass, the husband is not allowed to see his wife, and at last the wife is dying and entreaties are again urged that husband and wife may see each other once more. The French officers are inexorable; the lady dies and is buried, and the broken hearted husband sets sail for Ziuzibar. I Thehe is a Noting lady who lives next door to Blogg’s house, and while Blogg had company the other evening she was heard in her endeavors to extort music from a piano. "Our neighbor's daugh ter is a very good player,” remarked Blogg affably, during a pause in the conversation. "Her time is a little slow,” was the critical response of Blogg'h caller, who happened to be a connoisseur in music. “Yes,” said Blogg, “her yourg man is there, and very likely she h s set the clock back,” STORY OF THE OIL REGIONS TilK I'A.IKH’S CITY OF FiTIIOI.E AS IT WAS ANI> AS IT IS NOW. Oeacribrd by n Mun who was There When Pithole Hihl kO f OOO Inlmbifnnf*, iukl Went Bnek When it was Simply n .Vlnd Hole. The town of Pithole, in the oil regions of Pennsylvania, held up well for nearly a year, and began to fade. It went very suddenly. A few weeks before its de cline the people were confident that the big wells could never cease to produce oil in immense quantities. The general confidence in the town was so strong that on Feb. 12, 1866, the Daily lit card printed this: The Ueeord is now a fixed fact; and as long as a single hole shows signs of oil, or a derrick is visible, it will continue to make its appearance, While Oil City, Petroleum Centre, Tidioute, and other older and “so-called” livelier towns have been without a paper, Pithole, from its birth, has supported a daily paper, and is likely to do so for years to come. What a vain boast that was I never realized fully until I visited the ruins of Pithole a few weeks ago. I had known, of course, that the oil wells had sud denly ceased to pour out their floods of petroleum; that the people had gone elsewhere to speculate, and that the er ratic city had fallen into decay. But I was not prepared for what I saw when, in an endeavor to live the old days over again, I hired a saddle horse at Titus ville and pushed my way through the almost forgotten country that leads to the Pithole valley. On the edge of a bluff, eleven miles from Titusville, I came upon an old man, shabby, decrepit, and weather-beaten, who sat upon a log at the upper edge of the field, with bis bearded chin in his hands, looking va cantly down the still valley. He glanced up a moment to speak as I approached, and then resumed his donbled-up atti tude. “Lookin’ for Pithole, stranger?” he asked. “If y’ are, jest tie your gray to that saplin’ there, an’ come an’ sit down here on this stick o’ timber ’n look til) you’re tired.” “And this is—Pithole?” “The same, my friend; or what there’s left of it” I had ridden eleven miles through mud and water, over roc.ks and logs, up hill and down, to see this—an old log cabin, the dismantled wing of an old hotel, and a lonely field upon which neither tree nor shrub would grow. And this was Pithole 1 I had left it teeming with busy people, bnstling with busi ness, and half mad with the excitement of wild speculation. Now, even nature had forsaken it, leaving only one half crazed old man to guard its dust and ashes. The harmless old man had lived in peace and contentment on a little clearing on the site of Pithole all his life. The oil fever bad found him poor, it bad made him fabulously rich, and when it subsided it left him poorer than before, for it had wrenched his poor old mind off its bearings. “What do you see ?” I asked, seating myself beside the old man, and not let ting him know that the landscape was by degrees becoming strangely familiar to mo: "What do I see ?” said he slowly, without moving his eyes from the bare, brown valley. "I see a city full of peo ple; I see a valley swarming with life and business, the smoke of countless furnaces, the steam from countless en gines. 1 hear the clang of hammer and anvil, the roar of swift wheels, the rattle of cranks and bolts, the voices of busy men, the hum of industry. “This,” said the old man, laying his hand sorrowfully upon the rotten tim ber, “this is all that is left of the Bonta House, a noble structure. Down there, where you see a woodchuck burrowing, stood the Chase House, the best hotel in northwestern Pennsylvania. The Post Office occupied one of ils big corners, and a noisy crowd of oil princes filled its scores of rooms. Right across the street, where a sapling grows, a murder was done, and just above is where the first woman in Pithole shot herself through the heart in a tit of remorse. Drink, some said, but 1 knew better. A short distance below—there’s a cow munching dry grass there now—stood the Methodist church, dedicated with great pomp by Bishop Simpson, ol Philadelphia; Dr. Loomis, President of Allegheny College, and the Rev. G. W. Maltby, Presiding Elder of the James town District; never had a dollar of debt, as I know personally. “Oh, yes, I can point ’em all out — banks, churches and theatres (there was Murphy’s Theatre over that pool of wa ter), machine shops, pipe line offices, the railroad station, hotels; there stood the Morey Farm Hotel, destroyed by fire by an incendiary. And the big oil wells. Why, over there among those new-grown bushes was the great Pool well, the pride of the town, the wonder of the whole country. It flowed for a time at the rate of 1,300 barrels a day! Then there were the old Frazier, good for 900 barrels a day; the big Grant well, 700 barrels; the Burtis, 300 bar rels; the two Homestead wells; the Eu reka, that produced 50,000 barrels all told; the famous Twin wells, No. 1 and No. 2, on the Thomas Holmden farm, and hundreds of others. The land all around here was covered as thick as trees with them. What do you sea now ? flere and there the blackened end of a length of iron casting sticking a foot above ground—that is all. Every thing is gone now—buildings, derricks, tanks, machinery, tools, men and money. The town lasted two years, and then faded away, until to-day there is nothing left. I lived here almost alone when the town started, and I am living here alone now. Men have come and gone by thousands, bnt I have still remained true to the old place. Some times at night, when I am alone in my little old honse down there, I live over the days of ’65; I see the waves of speculation and strange innovation swet ping up against the solid door, only to ebb again, leaving the old honse and me alone. Sometimes when I sit here the city rises up before me as of old, and the valley swarms with busy men. "Going now, stranger? Well, it’s al ways been that way with me. Walk your horse down this little path—it used to be a busy, howling street—and I’ll show you where the buildings stood. I guess I'm the only man in the world that can guide yon over the ruins of the city that he himself laid out and helped to build. Strange, isn’t it? stranger than death. Well, the lower path’s yonr best way out, I guess—old Titus ville plank rood yon know. You’d bet ter prod the gray a little; there’s a big rainstorm coming. Good day.” Standing in the middle of his lonely field the old man watched me out of sight, and when the trees hid my horse he turned slowly and, climbing to his seat on the bluff, buried his grizzled face in his thin brown bands. And that is the history of J. Nelson Tappan’s town among the Pennsylvania Hills. No story of the past can be its equal. ARCTIC WHALING. How Wounded Wliiilru Tnke Rpfiige in Ice PnrkN-ProfiiN ol the Cutch. According to a San Francisco paper while men who have been from child hood on terms of familiarity with har poons, bomb lances and other parapher nalia with which leviathans are hunted, sny that the present whaling season is uncertain. Whales appear to have been plenty in the ice, but many of them were where the ships could not go. Hundreds are said to have been seen spouting and slashing around, a sight suggestive of in terest to landsmen, though barren in a commercial way. The exasperating fact to the whalemen in the present season is that abont as many whales are reported to have been lost after being “struck” as found their way to Hie try pots. Why this should be particularly exasperating is this: Whales average a yield of about one hundred barrels of oil each and not far from 1,800 pounds of bone. With bone quoted at §-l per pound, and likely to go higher if the season fails, the loss of one whale means the loss of several thousand dollars in bone alone. One vessel reports having seen many dead whales. The explanation of this is that the whales were "struck” but the boat steerer’s harpoon, and perhaps a bomb, were not fatal. When a whale starts for the ice with a boat dragging after him, the speed being something terrific, it becomes necessary to cut loose when the sharp-pointed boat comes too near the pack. The leviathan keeps on under the ice, perhaps taking the iron and lines with him. When he dies and drifts out again the whaler will take him so long as there is blubber, but the oil is not so good. There is a little of the character of woodchuck hunting in Arc tic whaling, which the present season well illustrates. The whale runs into the ice, as the woodchuck into a hole, and the whaler has to wait for the game to come out. A steam whaler can go through four or five feet of pack ice, but when it grows thicker the obstacle becomes se rious. “The fact is,” said a mariner, speaking of the Arctic fleet, “that sail ing vessels can generally do as well as the steamers in the early part of the season. Bnt late in the season the steamers have the advantage for they can wait and yet get out.” a tramp’s moment of misery. A genteel-looking tramp, with a fv ; r load for Monday morning, stood on J Chatham street corner recently in J meditative mood. He nervously twirlec a dime in his fingers and finally tossec ap the coin, saying : "Heads for a break fast; tails for a cocktail 1” He looked it the coin after it fell to the sidewall Mid sorrowfully exclaimed: “Heads I that’s for breakfast.” Flipping it again in the air, he said : "Twice out of three times.” It fell tails. The tramp’s thirst was oeck and neck with his hunger. “I mush’ give she breakfast a chance. So here goes zerd and last time,” he said. He tossed the coin again in the air. It tell in the gutter and bounded into the sewer through a hole in the rounded ourb-stone.—lV. K Graphic. - ® Haven’t Heard of Any. The Hou. Crookshank Maxwell pre sented a resolution to the Lime-Kiln Club, to the effect that the President be requested to inform the club in an off. haud manner whether any Presidential ticket bearing the names of colored people hail been placed in the field this campaign. The resolution being sec oned by half a dozen members, the President arose and replied : "So fur as I hev bin able to I’arn, no ticket of de sort has bin planted. So fur as I kin I’arn, also, dar am no in tenslinn of briugin’ out any tich ticket. Ize in no wise disappinted, however. It will be seb’ral y’ars yit befo’ we shall be called upon to guv’rn dis kentry, an’ doorin’ de interval it will be good policy to lay low an' take advantage of any sarcumstauces dat may arise.” Moral of the Tallapoosa disaster— Never undertake to run down a schooner. Very likely you will meet your beer.