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heiHomk zrj ’; > | ';/ fl > e i ULAR - ' » | -■**- , OUT OF ORDER. J’AS No e(J UA»- NEW HOmk ’ 30 UNION SQUARE NEWYORK o *' o4 ffo lit. MAS S. GA. FOR SAI. £ BY -*• I’M \ I?!? & CAIN", SUMMERVILLE, GA. i ' new Davis The lightest running Shuttle Sewing Machine ever produced, combining | greatest simplicity, durability and speed. It is adapted to a greater va- I riety of practical and fancy work than any other. No basting ever required. For particulars as to prices, Arc., 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, 48 & 50 Jackson St., Cl>ica<: ■ 111. For sale in Summerville by J. S. CLEGHORN * CO. ALABASTINE A Superior Substitute for Kalsomine, etc Alnbnstine is the /?>-.«/ and v propntnth-a made from e : inc i gip.-nn I . appi. cation to v. ■■ C. n •• h. lis f: \ f.r0.1 In- t I.V m HI; V■ (, coats as ties rt I. over another, 1 . a , hard surface, without danger nt scaling, or noticeably adding Io the thickness of Iha wall, which i.s strengthened and improve . by each additional coat, from time to tim; 1 . It is the only material for the purpose not de pendent' upon glim for its adhesiveness. Alaltastimt is hardened on the wall by ago, moisture, etc., while all kalsomines or whit ening preparations have inert soft chalks and ghm tor tlmir base, which are rendered soft or scaled in a very short time. In addition to the above advantages, Alabasime |e.-< expensiie, :s 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. Foi ..le by your Paint Dealer. Ask for Crcul.r containing Samples if 12 lints, Siiinufitcl ared oid\ by the Annisri'i, Co, !’ It. Cut m u Man i_,-r,Grand linpids, Mich. PURE * 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. BILLINGS, TAYLOR &CO. CLEVELAND, OHIO. “What do you think,” said Clara; “that horrid Tom Brown proposed tome last evening. He hummed and hawed a long time, but finally spunked up courage to ask for my hand. ’ “And what did you say, dear ?" asked Ddia. “Say ? Why, I told him I couldn’t be so cruel as to burden him with a third hand when he didn’t know what to do with the two he already had—the awk ward booby!” — rather destroys a farmer's faith in -b.pp'-d putting ~ . *‘ e J ‘ to find fli? ; k:iig around the tritit 1 y ti IL- c. (tljc ilk VOL XI. SUMMERVILLE, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY EVENING, OCTOBER 29, 1884. NO. 41. t — SANDS’ PATENT TRIPLE AIOTIONfgM fi asl Tw *« s JK r A ■l"’’’* nW FREEZERX ' The only Freezer ever made having three distinct motions inside the can. thereby, of course, produc ing tiner 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. A COWARDLY ASKA (LT. (Inc nt the Hnlvntlou Army Member® luitnlly Inlured by n Ilion’ on the llend nt Albnny—A Pnlliellc Herne nt the I.ylne Girl’. Bedside, A dispatch from Albany, N. Y,, dated Friday, says: Miss Lucy John ston, of South Brooklyn, well-known as I “Singing Lucy,’’of the Salvation Army, is in probably a dying condition here, having been struck senseless by an un- I known person while the army were | parading last night. It is regarded as I one of the greatest outrages ever perpe- I trated in this city and there is great in dignation among the residents over the affair. Numerous threats have been made by roughs that if the Salvation Army paraded, “they would suffer for it." * But notwithstanding this a parade was made last evening, starting at 7.30 o’clock. They proceeded from Hudson avenue np Pearl street and back, fol owed by a crowd of children and hood lums. No one ventured to molest them until they had turned down Steuben street on their way to Hidley Hull to hold their meeting. Turning into James street the Salvationists discovered a large gang of young men gathered about the entrance to the ball. Several of the army had already entered and were at the top of the stairway which leads to the meeting room, when Miss Johnston was heard calling from the door: “Cap tain, some one has struck me.” Im mediately there was a general confusion and a scattering of the roughs congre gated about The army gathered about the stricken soldier, who lay stunned upon the floor. It was soon discovered that she had been struck violently on the back of the head while entering the door. The unconscious girl was carried upstairs amid great excitement and cries of fright After reaching home the suffering girl became again unconscious. Spasm suc ceeded spasm and delirium set in. At 10.30 o’clock Dr. Fisk, of Hudson av enue, was called in and pronounced it a severe case of concussion of the brain. All night long the young woman re mained in a delirious state. Only for a few seconds, at about 1 o’clock, did she la-come conscious. Turning to Captain Maggie Renick, she rolled her eyes un easily and exclaimed, “You haven’t told mother, have you?" On being in formed in the negative, she seemed con tented and again lost consciousness. Once or twice she cried out, "Nellie, don t tell poor mother. It would kill her.” Nellie is the name of a sister whom she dearly loves and imagined was near her. Friends with tearful eyes surrounded the stricken girl all night. At 1.30 in the afternoon she was uncon scious and her condition was still re garded as very critical. In the evening she became conscious, and her physi cian hopes for her ultimate recovery. Singing Lucy is twenty-one years old and joined the Salvation Army about four months ago. Her parents occupy a good social position in Brooklyn and strongly opposed her entering upon this work. She is tall and well formed, has I a remarkably sweet voice and has made herself a great favorite among the friends oi the Salvationists. She has had a presentment for a week past that some thing was going to happen to her. The I ruffianly coward who struck the blow has not yet been discovered. It is thought that she was struck with a club or leaded “billy.” THE CHINESE PCZZLE. ' Ob. bring me a map of the seat of war ! I I ear the van® on the river Min ! : I want to see where the missiles tire Through far Foochow with a devil's din. Jljst show m ■ Ke-lcng and B:nen-clioo; Add where. Oh. where is Kin-tei-hing, I Choo-Choo. Chang-cliow ami where Cha-oo? Is Hirig-wba far from Yen-ping ? I ream t> know of H.e-cliie-cbiug; I long to see- the brill Nan-ling; However will l he French get in To Klang-si or view Toong-ting? ; So, bring me a map of the peat of war 1 I want to learn while the light is young; And while I am lo- king for one name more, Hl pray for the ladies of great Q-iang-tnng. LrniifciVr t’o'uiir- /'i‘i>ual. —■— ?J.-. Morostsi has not yet remarked ■ tfiir he v.oul'l cut his erring daughter f! with aFc ioHing It would to i b - .-uperttuom. Graptiic. FARMER NICK'S SCARECROW. Out in the cornfield, grouped together, A flock of <. rows discussed the weather. Observing them, thrifty Farmer Nick Declared that the crows were “gettin’ too thick.” “ I must have a se» recrow—that is true; Now, would not that old umbrella do?” So into the house the farmer went, Ami away to the field the umbrella sent. One rainy day the fanner went out To view the corn fields lying about; He neared the umbrella: looked inside; And what he saw made him laugh till he cried ! Tor in there, out of the rainy weather A dozen crows were huddled together ! So the farmer, laughing as farmers should. Said: ‘4 fear my scarecrow did little good.” Noh a E. Crosby, in SI. Nicholas. Uncle Cuthbert. "Hush ! It is Clarence Hyde’s step!" And Rose Eldon sprang to her feet, rosy and smiling, with freshly-plucked helio trope trembling among her glossy brown braids, and her pretty blue dress float ing around her like an azure cloud. Only eighteen, and very fair and love ly was our little Rosa— a trifle spoiled and willful, perhaps, but what else could one expect? Every one petted and made much of her—every one smiled at her pretty, kittenish way —and Clarence Hyde thought her the fairest specimen of feminine humanity that ever the sup shone on. L'zzy Eldon made room for her sister —Lizzy, just one year younger and scarcely less fair, yet very different in character. Lizzy was quiet, and sago and demure, while Rosa rattled away like a merry mountain stream flowing over its mossy stones. L'zzy thought her sister perfection, while Rosa was lec turing Lizzy in a capricious fashion, and laying down the law to her after the most approved manner of elder sisters. "How nice it must be to be engaged I" said Lizzy, with a half-encouraging smile, as Rosa paused at the glass to ad just her hair. "I wish I was engaged 1” "Yon? Oh, yon are nothing but a child,’’Rosa said, patronizingly. "There —give me my pocket handkerchief.” And away she went, light and lithe ns a bine-winged butterfly. Clarence Hyde was in the parlor anx iously awaiting her coming, but Clar ence had rather a disturbed face. He was a well-made, handsome fellow, with laughing, wine-brown eyes, straight fea tures, and brown hair thrown back from a broad, frank brow. "Why, what makes yon look so so ber?” was Rosa’s first question, when the ceremonials of greeting were gone through with and she had time to take a good look into his face. "Holier? Doi?” He was playing rather restlessly with the crimson cord that looped back the white muslin draperies of the pretty bay window that made Mrs. Eldon’s cot tage look like one of the lovely rustic habitations you see in old Engligh en gravings. "Exactly as if you had the toothache or a bad conscience. ” Clarence laughed in spite of himself. "Yon are wrong, then my little riddle guesser, I am afflicted with neither the one nor the other.” “Well, what is it, then?” "Rosa, what would you say if it were to become necessary to defer our mar riage for some time ?” A shadow came over the infantile nloom and freshness of Rosa’s face. “To defer our marriage, Clarence ? I can’t imagine what you mean.” "Listen, Rosa, and I will tell you. My uncle has just come from California, very poor and a confirmed invalid. I am his only surviving relative, and to me he naturally appealed for protection and companionship. I must give him a home, Rosa. You know I bad laid up just enough to begin housekeeping in a quiet, economical sort of way, but the new plan will necessarily alter all of my arrangements.” "I never heard of any uncle before." "No, dearest; I knew very little of him—nothing personally, as he never visited mv father’s during his life-time.” Rosa’s face was turned away from Clarence Hyde’s; she was silently twist ing a piece of paper round and round her slender forefinger. "Rosa,” he said, after waiting a min ute or two for her to make some remark, “tell me honestly, dear one, which you prefer—to begin housekeep ing on this new scale—one more frugal and humble than I bad originally hoped and intended—or to defer our marriage until I can earn enough to carry out those original arrangements.” She was silent for a moment, then she answered in a voice which seemed to chill Clarence’s buoyant young heart: “Neither 1” “Rosa 1” he exclaimed, “I do not un derstand you.” “I spoke plainly enough. Neither I” ■ •‘Do you mean that ” “I mean that you must either give up your uncle or me. After all that has been said and known of our engagement, after its publicity and length, I certainly cannot consent to a further postpone ment. And we shall lie poor enough if we marry immediately, without filling our house with needy relatives.” Clarence Hyde looked at hie fair in perfect amazement. Never in the whole course of their acquaint- ance had he seen this phase of charac ter. He had fancied her all that was sweet, pnre and womanly. Could it be i possible that she was cold-hearted, sel fish and dead to all the sweet ties of nature ? "Rosa,” he said, mournfully, “is this to part us?” “It is for you to say.” "Do you wish me to give up my poor, dependent uncle ?” “Either him or me, ’ Rosa answered, indiflerently. "It will be hard—very hard, for me to lay aside the brightest wishes of my life,” he said earnestly, "but, Rosa, duty is n y first object, I cannot leave my uncle to wear out his few remaining days in poverty and solitude.” "Very well,” answered Rosa careless ly, stooping to pick up the odorous pur ple blossoms which had fallen from her hair, “then we shall consider our en gagement dissolved.” “And can you give me np so readily, Rosa?” "Oh,” said Rosa, a little impatiently, “where’s the use of being romantic about it ? You have chosen your path. I have chosen mine. So let it lie 1” Clarence Hyde took his leave, de jected enough. It is not pleasant to set up a fair idol and worship it with all the strength and tenderness of your nature, only to find, after all, that it is dust and ashes—hollow-hearted and false I Cuthbert Hyde sat smoking his brier wood meerschaum by the open window as Clarence entered—a square, shrewd looking old man, with deeply-seamed wrinkles on his brow, and restless, sparkling eyes, gleaming like live coals beneath his shaggy brows. “Clarence, my boy, something has gone wrong," ho said, brusquely, after he had regarded his nephew in silence for awhile. "Tell the old uncle what it is.” "I have told you about Rosa Eldon, sir ; well, she and I are—in fact, it is all over between us.” "Engagement broken, eh ? Fast the power of patching np?” "Yes, uncle.” "And it was on my account? Nay, boy; don’t turn away—l can read the truth in your eyes. So she played you false ?” "Wo are parted, uncle—is not that enough ?” “Well, perhaps so—perhaps so. It is well you found her out in time, Clar ence. It’s for the best, my boy.” Clarence Hyde was passing down the village street a day or two subsequently toward dusk on a mellow August even ing when a slight form glided up to him and a tremulous hand was laid upon his own. He started at first, but quickly recognized the face and figure. "Lizzy Eldon I” “Ob, Clarence, I could not rest with out telling yon how very, very wrong I thought Rosa, and how sorry I am for you.” "Thanks, Lizzy. I do not think she has treated me exactly right.” "How could she be so cruel, so un womanly? You arc right., Clarence — you acted nobly. I think Rosa will one day live to repent it." Ah Clarence stood there listening to Lizzy Eldon’s impetuous words and holding her soft little hand in his own, he wondered that he had never before noticed how very, very pretty she was— a softer, more subdued style of beauty than Rosa’s, yet not less bewitching in its way. They haunted him all night long, that oval, earnest face, those swimming blue eyes. Day by day Rosa’s image waxed fainter and more faint in his memory, and Lizzy’s shy, gentle looks grew more than ever present Jn his heart. "I do believe I’ve fallen in love with the girl,” he thought. "I wonder what she would say if I was to propose to her ?” Next to the wonder came the realiza tion. One fine October day, when they had strayed a little way from the gay nutting party, whose voices made the old yellow-leaved woods musical, Mr. Hyde asked Lizzy Eldon if she would accept the love her sister had slighted, and Lizzy, smiling and trembling, an swered him, yes, “You see, Uncle Cuthbert,” said Clarence, eagerly, as he explained the new position of affairs to his uncle that evening, after he had safely escorted Lizzy home, with her basket of nuts only half filled (and no wonder, all things considered), “it will lie so pleas ant I We shall all live together, and Lizzy says she will love you dearly. Lizzy is such a famous little housekeep er. She thinks it will be so pleasant to have you sitting by our hearthstone J And, uncle, you will go and see her to morrow, won’t you ?” "Yes,” said Uncle Cuthbert, briefly, “I’ll go.” And the next day Lizzy was surprised at her sewing by a brown-faced, little, ■ old man, who abruptly took both her hands in his and imprinted a kiss upon her crimson forehead, just as if he was the oldest acquaintance in the world ! ‘ ‘So you’re going to marry my nephew, Lizzy, are you ?” said Uncle Cuthbert. “Yes, sir,” Lizzy made answer, tim idly. “And yon love him, Lizzy?” "Oh, yes, sir.” “And you won’t object to having the old man lumbering ’round the house, helpless and feeble though he be ?” “I shall be so glad to have you live I with us, sir, for I never remember my ! father—and —you will be like one to me, I am sure.” Uncle Cuthbert kissed her again, and walked away as abruptly as he had come. “He’s a very funny old gentleman,” thought Lizzy, “but I know I shall like him.” Rosa contemplated the present state of affairs very coolly—a little contempt uously, in fact. “If you choose to adopt all Clarence Hvde's poor relations, why, I can only wonder at your taste,” she said, loftily. But Lizzy only smiled, and doubted to herself whether Rosa could really ever have loved Clarence. “No, no, no I” echoed her hear The day of the wedding drew near. Lizzy's white dress was nearly finished, and modest little presents were begin ning to be sent in from friends and neighbors. “Here’s my present,” said Uncle Cuthbert, walking in one day, and toss ing a little box of carved wood into Lizzy’s lap. “I cut out those wooden flowers myself, when I was in Cali fornia.” “Oh, Uncle, what a dear little box,” said Lizzy, smiling her bright thanks, while Rosa elevated her nose rather scornfully. "Well, open it; it’s lined beautifully,” said the old man. Lizzy obeyed. “Why, there's a parchment chart in it, Uncle,” cried the astonished Clarence, who was leaning over Lizzy’s shoulder. “And so there is—a deed making over $50,000 to Lizzy Eldon the day of her marriage,” answered Uncle Cuthbert, dryly, "and I've just got another one for you at home, Clarence, my boy ! Aha 1 the old uncle was not so very poverty stricken after all. You musn’t think, my young lady,” he added, turning abruptly to Rosa, “that gold isn’t gold because it is a trifle tarnished aud rusty. Appearances aren’t anything in this world I” And so Clarence and Lizzy began the world with the fairest of prospects, and true love enough to float the bark of life into the sweetest haven. Rosa Eldon was somewhat chagrined in her secret soul, but she wisely kept her secret to herself, and old Unelo Cuthbert was quite satisfied with the choice his nephew had made. “She’s worth twice a hundred thou sand dollars in her own sweet self, Clar ence,” he said, confidentially, to Mr, Hyde, junior. A String of Suckers. A patent medicine man up in a Wis consin town was selling something or other from a carriage in which he had a rather pretty young woman and a gaso line lamp. The lady sang one or two songs very sv c itly and then the man talked and sold his nostrum at a dollar a bottle. When he had disposed of thirty or forty bottles he said: “Now, gentlemen, before bidding you good night I will give you an exhibition of the wonderful magnetic power of my wife, who sits here by my side. I hold in my hand a common piece of thread. Now one of you take hold of the end of it and walk off and then let all the others take hold of it, and at the signal which I will give she will take hold of the other end and you will feel the shock instantly.” "About 150 men and boys grasped the thread and walked off about half a block with it. ‘Now keep perfectly quiet,’said the man, ‘and you will feel the shock delicate at first, and then strong enough to tingle at the ends of yonr fingers and toes. Are you all ready ?” “They all said ‘Yes.’ “ ‘Well, then, I will put out the light,’ said he, ‘and my wife will take the thread in her hand at that instant.’ “The light went out and the man’s voice was heard: ‘What have you in your hand, my dear ?’ “ ‘The longest string of suckers I ever saw in all my life,’ came in a sweet, musical voice, and at the same moment the horses and carriage were driven off at great speed, leaving the crowd hold ing on to the string dumfonnded. “It was the worst shock a good many of those fellows ever got.” — The Game of Base-Ball. Base-ball really originated in New York city in 1845, when a party of gen tlemen so mollified the old game of town ball as to create a new game, to which they gave the name of base-ball. On the 2.3 dof September of that year these gentlemen formally organized the Knickerbocker Base-Ball club and adopted a series of playing rules. Prior to 1845 a sort of crude base-ball had been played under various rules, but it was little more than a schoolboy’s di version. The Olympic club, of Phila delphia, had been organized in 1853, but it played nothing but town ball un til 1860, when base-ball was adopted in its stead. In New England, about thirty years ago. there was a game called the “New England Game,” which was played with a small, light ball, which was thrown overhand to the bat. while in the New York game of base-ball as then played by the Knickerbocker, Eagle, Gotham and Umpire clubs, a large elastic ball was pitched to the bat. | TWO GOOD ONES TOGETHER. I | HOT WEATHEIt AH THEY SOMETIMES HAVE IT IN PIKE COUNTY. A Topic About Which the Ohl Settler nut! the ’Squire Annie, DIIIerln« Widely. It was evening, on the back stoop of the tavern, in the present hot spell. The thermometer stood at 95 degrees. Somebody came along and remarked that it was hot. The County Clerk opened his eyes and looked wearily at the speaker. The sheriff glanced wist fully at a club Unit lay near him, but he made no effort to reach out and use it. The big dog on the stoop turned up one eye ami growled. The ex-Poundmaster relaxed slightly hie semi somnolescent attitude, and said, with no trace of anger or malice, but much of languor, in his voice: “ W-h-a-a-t—d-i-d —y -o-u—s-a- a-y, s-t-r-a-n-g-e-r?” “I said it was hot 1” replied the stran ger, and there was so much caloric in his tone that the thermometer jumped a degree higher. “O-h-h-h !” said the ex-Poundmaster, and he settled back into somnolence. The stranger moved off in disgust, and who should step briskly up, with a pleased look and his coat on, but the Oid Settler. “Aha, boys I” said he rubbing his hands. “It’s like a regeneratin’ sperrit, b’gosh, to feel some giniwine ole ortumn weather peelin’ of itself fur business wnnst more, haiu’t it ?” The boys knew the Old Settler. No one spoke a word. No one seemed to hear him. He looked around. Evidently no one intended to dissent from his esti mate of the weather. The pleased expression left his face. He looked thoughtful. Suddenly his face bright ened again. Ho seemed to catch a ray of hope. "The ’Squire hain’t ben an’ gone a’ready, has he, boys?” said he; “ ’cause if ho has —no, ho hain’t, b’gosh ! Here he comes now, loppin' along, praying to hisself, I'll bate, ’cause the ’tarnal hot summer ez we’ve had has got up an’ scooted.” Sure enough, there the ’Squire came; his coat off, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his hat in one hand, while he moppod his face with his bandanna. The Old Settler looked more thau pleased. The ’Squire wilted down in a chair like a let tuce leaf under hot vinegar. “W-h-e-w!” said he. “Wall, Major, I’ve see some tol’able weather in my time. I think, fakin' it hot an’ cold ez it runs, from Janiwary to July, an’ from July to Janiwary, but if this don’t plump the bull’s-eye a leotle slicker than any hot weather that ever tackled me afore, then I’m diddly dod-durned from way back 1” “Hot 1” exclaimed the Old Settler, and you’d have sworn he was really astonished. “Hot 1 I hope ye don’t call this hot weather, ’Squire ! Here’s me , an’ M’riar Kiverin’ up our flower beds ev’ry night to keep ’em from bein’ fetched with frost, an’ here's you a hol lerin’ ’bout it's bein’ hot I ’Squire, durned if I don’t think you’m gettin’ a let tie cracked. I do, b’gosh I” “I may be gettin’ a leetle cracked, Major,” replied the ’Squire, “an’ you may be kiverin’ up yer flower beds fur fear o’ frost, or ye may be lyin’, jist which ye please, with bets in favor o' the lyin’, but this is the fust hot weather I ever see. If sumpin’ hain’t twisted the equator ’way from Cuby an' dropped it down outer Pike county, then ye kin bile me 1” “’Squire,” said the Old Settler, re monstratively, “what’s the use o’ your bein’ so consarned contrairy ? I don’t mean no ’fence, but, b’gosh, ye make yerself pooty cl us onter disagree’ble, sometimes. Now, if I’d a come an’ sot down here an’ said it was hot, you'd a right up an’ pooh-poohed, and said Bumpin’ ’bout yer havin’ had a durn no tion o’ puttin’ on yer overcoat ’fore ye left hum, an’ was sorry ye hadn’t, or some piece o’ contrairiuess. Then ye alius seem to wanter pick a quar’l. Here I sot, an’ wa’n’t sayin’ a consarned word ’bout the weather, an' up you Bounces and begins at mo ’bout it’s bein’ hot ! Then, ’cause I don't fall in with yer contrairiness, but sticks up for it’s bein’ bracin’ an’ insiniwatin’ ortumn weather, which it is, then ye git mad an' say I’m a lyin’. Wall, I kin jist tell ye, b’gosh, ’Squire, that I hain’t agoiutel resk my flower beds jist ’cause you say it’s hot, not by a long shot, I hain’t, an’ ye kin like it or lump it, b’gosht’l mighty, whichever ye dnrn please !” “Flower beds 1” exclaimed the 'Squire. “Who cares far yer flower beds? I don’t care a hair out’n a mule’s tail for ’em 1 Ye kin kiver ’em an’ onkiver ’em agin ! An’ ye kin go right hum an’ kiver ’em if ye want to. Nobody’s holdin’ of ye! But ye can’t set thar an’ face me down that it hain’t hot 1 Ye never see it so hot, and you know it ! Look at the th’mom’ter I Look at the th’mom’ter, with the ball on it heated so ye can’t ; bear your finger on it, an’ then say it ain’t hot! You make me sick, Major 1” “I don’t care fur no th’mom’ter!” ex claimed the Old Settler. “D'ye s’pose I’me gointer let a thing like that ez can’t do nothin’ but hang onter a post, pick out weather fur me? Wall, b’gosh, no ! We had a little weather, I guess, ’fore th’mom’ters come out, an’ we’d ' hev some more weather if ev’ry one on 1 'em in creation should bust an’ th’ couldn't no more git made. The idee, anyhow, o’ folks b’lievin’ that all the weather ez comes along has to pass through them durn things ’fore we kin know how hot it is or how cold it is ! I know when weather’s hot, I think. I kin ’member one summer, when I was a boy, when it was so hot that we had to keep the rippinest kind o’ big fires agoin in the house, all the time, to cool ofl the air, it bein’ so durn much hotter’n the fires was 1 Why, ’twas a common thing, that summer, fur folks ez was travellin’, to stop at housen ’long the roads an’ ast if they could please come in an’ set by the fire an’ get cool. It makes me eoldor'n I act’lly feel, to-night to think o’ some o’ the hot weather I kin ’member. B-r-r-r-r ! Th’ll bo frost to-night, sar tin, au ” The county clerk got up and walked inside. The boys and the ’Squire trailed after him. The Old Settier edged in, rubbing his hands. Every body but the Old Settler ordered it with ice. He was game to the last. “Bartender,” said he, “make me a hot Scotch. ” —Ed. Mott. The Cleveland Crank. “Call the ‘Crank,’ ” was the order up on which “John Doe,” the eccentric visitant of the Garfield residence, was ushered to a place in the prisoner's row in the Police Court, Cleveland, Ohio. Assistant-Prosecutor McNamee, with several postal cards in his hand bearing the address of “Mrs. James A. Gar field,” called the name “T. M. Alex ander,” by which they were signed. The prisoner was silent. “Is that yonr name?” “No, sir.” Then one of the postals was submitted and the query was put: “Is that your handwriting?” The prisoner carefully adjusted his glasses and examined the card and answered: “No, sir.” “You were in Richmond in March, 1883?” “That’s my business.” Other questions as to the prisoner’s antecedents received negative answers, no answer at all, or a scornful wave of his hand. The court inquired: “Do you want to make any statement ?” to which was replied: “I don’t know that I have any statement to make. I want something to eat, I have been without food for three days.” This referred to the fact that the prisoner during his in carceration has absolutely refused to touch bread and water, the only food allowed him. The subsequent questions propounded by the court were no more successful than those recited. A sen tence of S2OO and costs and twenty-eight days in the workhouse for carrying con cealed weapons was imposed, and the court explained the two day’s abatement from the usual number, by con leasing that he had made a mistake in commit ting the man for contempt in refusing to criminate himself. After leaving the court-room the mysterious prisonersaid: “They can send me to the workhouse, but I’ll be hanged if they can make me work.” Young James Garfield was an observer of the Police Court hearing. Domestic Recipes A delicate dish for dessert is made by paring six ripe, tart apples; cut them in halves, put half a pound of sugar into a saucepan, with half a pint of water, add the juice of one lemon and let this boil until it is thick, then lay in the apples. When they have simmered until they are tender, take them out, drain them onji sieve and let the syrup boil a few minutes Wugcr. When the apples and syrup are both cool, put the apples carefully into a glass dish and pour the syrup over them. A very appetizing way to cook onions is to boil them in salt and water until they begin to be tender; drain the water from them, and wrap each onion in soft paper, set them side by side into a dripping pan, let them bake until done, then put them into a vegetable dish and pour rich brown gravy over them ; Spanish onions are especially nice cooked in this way, as they have so delicate a flavor. Tomatoes cut into thick slices and jaked in a dripping pan make a most agreeable garnish. Sprinkle pepper and salt and fine bread crumbs over each slice, and in, the spaces between the slices put little lumps of butter. Bake till tender, and serve hot on the platter with meat. To make red-cabbage salad choose a small firm head; take off the outer leaves and cut the rest into very thin slices; if you can shave it fine it will be all the nicer ; mix with it two teaspoon fnls of salad oil, or of clarified butter, a little cayenne pepper, a little curry powder, if you please. This salad is nice for two or three days after it is prepared if it is kept where it is cool; if you prefer a sweet salad add sugar The Generous-Hearteil Wife. He had failed for $500,000, and his as sets would not pay two cents on the dol lar. He gave np everything he had to satisfy his creditors, not even reserving the watch in his pocket. And yet they growled. An old friend called to see him. He met him at the depot with a $5,000 span of horses, and conveyed him to a $200,000 residence, where he dined and wined him like a prince, on the finest of china and the costliest of plate. “Why, Jones,” said his old friend, “I thought you had failed ?” “So I have—given up everything, ab solutely everything to my creditors, as an honest man should,” replied the bankrupt, in a tone of self-abnegation. “Why, you appear to be living pretty well,” remarked the old friend. “Ah, my dear sir, how mistaken you are,” returned the two-cents-on-the-dol lar failure. “Everything that yon see is my wife’s, absolutely everything. But she is too tender-hearted to deprive me of their use on account of my mis fortunes.” A Pakistan doctor prescibed for a young lady who had objections against giowing stout: “Take exercise, flky girl. Consider the trees of th, yI .. r take exercise. ■_ J ' T! -.-0