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SIME - ; : ■. J.l ! t ..fegifa s. P C J •J’AtNo EQ..-- JffW H ??wtffiMACHIUEG f 30 UNION SQUARE NEW YORK LA,V <4 ili. MASS GA. FOR SALE BY , PH A I ’ U tt CATN. SUMMERVILLE, GA. * ok* new I Davis 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 IHE 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., Chicago, 111. For Rale in Summerville b) J. 8. CLEGHORN & CO. ALA BAS TINE A Superior Substitute for Kalsomine, etc If Alahnstino is the ifr.'/ami <. y prepn, s' ai tnatlefrom calcined gvp- :m ruck, Ibr app:i cation to wall- '.' Uli a brush. ami i- i . - v ere<l bv inUi’utJ .>>><t .>>•• fa-.-t.-il bv man' : V... n .., . ;>>g as many coats as desired, one over anoilier, L> any hard snrface, without danger of scaling or noticeably adding to the thickness of the wall, which is strengthened and improve >v each additional coat, from time to time. It is the only material for the purpose not de pendent upon glue for its adhesiveness. Alabiistine is hardened on the nail by a .u?. moisture, etc., while all kalsomines or whit ening preparations have inert soft chalks ami glue for their base, which are rendered soft or scaled in a very short time. In addition to the above advantage.’. Alahastine is less ex|>en.-ive, as it n■ miri-s hut 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. For sale by your Paint Dealer. Ask for Circular containing Samples of 12 tints manufactured only by the Alabastine Co.. M. B. Church, Manager, Grand Rapids, Mich. T PURE s PAINTS ReadyForUse Olives, Terra Cottas and all the latest fashionable shades tor 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. After the Rabbits.—The New Zea land Government has authorized an agent to collect two hundred stoats and weasels for the purpose of thinning out the rabbits in that colony. Each ani mal is expected to cost about 330 before it is landed. ... - -—■ Gas.—The use of natural ga» in Pitts burgh manufactories is steadily increas ing, and now the right has been sold to a man who will try to introduce it into houses for heating purposes ■»- . ‘'Colonel,” said a man who wanted to make out a genealogical tree, “C ...iit-l, how can I bec.-me thor<>ngljly ac quainted with my family history ? “Simply by running for President,” an swered the colonel. @ljc 3iiminermUe ©ajettc. VOL XI. SUMMERVILLE, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY EVENING, NOVEMBER 5, 1884. NO. 42. SANDS’ —-• PATENT TRIPLE The only Freezer ever made having three distinct motions inside the can, thereby, of course, produc ing liner and smoother Cream than any other t reezer on the market. 300,000 in use. Catalogue and Price List tailed upon application. WHITE MOUNTAIN FREEZER CO, NASHUA, N. H. A Severe Sentence. Judge David Davis, who for eight years rode the same judicial circuit in Illinois with Abraham Lincoln, related many capital anecdotes about him. One was a scene in court soon after Davis was appointed Judge, when Lincoln had defended a fellow named Lindsay, who had been indicted for highway robbery. Lindsay had pleaded guilty, in the hope that the Couit would give him the lightest sentence imposed by law. The crime, however, had no lenient features, and the character of its perpetrator was very bad. At the close of the term Lind say was arraigned for sentence. The Judge alluded to the youth of the pris oner, and dwelt upon the enormity of his crime. He had robbed a helpless man of his hard-earned wages, and com mitted a crime that the law character ized as akin to murder. Gathering wrath and indignation as he proceeded, the Judge closed his phillippio with the words: “Lindsay, I sentence yon to seven years in the Illinois Legislature !” Abraham Lincoln was a quiet observer. He arose with a quaint gleam of humor on his face, and said: “May it please your Honor, as the friend of the Court, allow me to suggest that the Constitution I coes not permit cruel and unusual pun- I ishment. Your Honor has sent this man i to the Legislature when he ought to go I to the Penitentiary.” “The difference is so slight that the Court has no hesitation n adopting the | suggestion of its learned and experienced | adviser,” the Judge responded. There- i upon he imposed the full sentence of the law, and everybody laughed except I the defendant and his counsel.— Hen. I Perley Poore. Meteorological. The Committee on Meteorology of the Lime-Kiln Club reported that Prof, i Y. J. Clark’s predictions for the re- 1 mainder of the year had been received in good shape, and they were sent to the Secretary's desk to lie read: October—ls this month don’t pan out thirty-one days, taxpayers ought to kick for their rights. Frosts can be looked for any time after the 10th. Flies will begin to lie abed longer in the morning, and the man who sold you a patent churn in the spring will drop in jnst as you begin to feel sanguine he is dead. Straw hats will hang on, but in a sheep ish sort of way. November—First blood for fall. Man who leaves the door open will have his attention attracted to the fact that the saw-mill is two squares further up the street. Good time to hnnt up sore throat remedies and decide whether to buy an overcoat or move South. Begin to see what an idiot you were to wish for winter, Decemlxir—Considerable weather dur ing this month. Man who wrote “Beau tiful Snow,” will show up by the 20th. Sun umbrellas and bare-armed women retire for the season. Winds might be cooler, but are doing fairly well for De cember. The second-hand cutter offered you in July for $2.75 is now marked 314. Any boys in your neighborhood who ought to he in Heaven should lie coaxed into trying the ice on the river.— Detroit Free Press, Trades Unions. The first we hear of trades unions in America was in 1806, when a trial of eight persons was held on the charge of “combining to increase wages, to keep others from working, and to es tablish arbitrary rules over working men.” A combination of this sort had been practiced for some years pre viously, and some remarkable cases of the pursuit of those who had not joined the union were brought out at the trial. The prisoners were reprimanded, fined, ar.d made to pay the costs of the suit. “Sib,” said a barber to a lawyer who was passing his door, “will yon tell me if this is a good ten-shilling piece?” The lawyer, pronouncing the piece good, deposited it in his waistcoat pocket, arlding, with great gravity, “If you’ll let your lad run round to my f ffiet-, I’ll send you back the three-apd tourpence change.” FOLDING THEIR TENTS. “The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight. “I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mint, And a feeling of sadness comes o’er mo That my soul cannot resist - “A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorry only As the mist resembles the rain. “Come, read to me some poem, Some simple and heartfelt lay, That shall soothe this restless feeling And banish the thoughts of day. “Not from the grand old masters, Not from the bards sublime Whoso distant footsteps echo Through the corridors of time; “For like strains of martial music, Their mighty thoughts suggest Life’s endless toil and endeavor; And to-night I long for rest. “Read from some humbler poet. Whose songs gushed from his heart As showers from the clouds of summer, Or tears from the eyelids start; “Who. through long days of labor And nights devoid of case. Still heard In his soul the music Os wonderful melodies. “Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That follows after prayer. “Then read the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy voice. “And the nights shall be tilled with music, And the cares that infest the day Shall fold their tents like the Arabs, And as silently steal away.” Lonofeli ow. Daisy’s Love. “There !” said Herbert Winfield. He was sitting on the sunny south door-step of the great, fragrant, hay scented barn, where the sunbeams inter laced each other like slender, waving threads of gold, and the boughs of the old button-ball tree moved softly in the summer breeze. He was a bright-eyed, bright-faced young fellow, dressed in a cool, white linen suit, with the glitter of a diamond stud at his throat, and slender, shapely hands, and close beside him Daisy Wal lace sat with the pretty bunds folded on her lap. She was a daisy by nature as well as by name—a fresh-faced, sunny-haired little creature, whoso big, brown eyes were shaded by long, dark lashes, and whose nose turned up at the end the least bit in the world, giving a roguish piquancy to the whole expression of her countenance. “How did you do it?” said Daisy, with her scarlet lips apart and the brown eyes limpid with interest. “Oh, I managed,” said Herbert. He had split a tiny gold dollar in two and wrought a hole in each through which he had passed slender blue rib bons. “Do you like them, Daisy ?” “Very much.” “Then you shall wear one and I the other, as pledges of our engagement.” Daisy blushed and laughed, as Her bert suspended the golden trinket round her neck, and then glanced down at the broad engagement ring, that circled the forefinger of her left hand, Herbert’s eye following her look. “You do not regret it, Daisy?” “Regret it? No, Herbert !’’ “Because, Daisy, you arc so young 1” “I am not too young to know my own mind, Herbert,” she said, with an as sumption of dignity which was very pretty to look upon. “I was sixteen last ! week 1” Sixteen 1 Daisy Wallace felt all the dignity of her mature years. Sixteen years old and engaged I And they sat there, under the shallow of the button-ball tree, with the fragrance, of the new hay coming ever and anon to theinsenses, talking of the house which was one day to be theirs, and even deciding, in boy and girl fashion, what was to be the color of their carpets, and the special flowers to be planted in the garden, and even the pat- j tern of the antique furniture which was - to decorate Herbert’s library ! “How foolish we are’.” he said, at length, starting up with a laugh. “Yes, but it is very pleasant to be | foolish !” Daisy answered, smiling and blushing in the same instant. Yet, engaged lovers though they were, Daisy had a woman’s coquettish little instincts, and in the course of time they wrought trouble between the young hearts! “I don’t like it, Daisy !” Herbert said, stoutly. “That’s because you are so old-sash- ; ioneel in your ideas,” said Daisy, erect- . ing her slight figure, to look as digni fied as possible. “All the girls arc de lighted with Mr. Sykesleigh.” “All the girls are not engaged to be married !” retorted Herbert, bitterly. “Does it follow that because I am en gaged I am to lie a prisoner ?” “Daisy, you know better than that.” j “You are too exacting, Herbert. I hope you are not going tn turn a j-alons I lover.” “I am not jealous, Daisy,” he an swered, a little coldly; “but I do not ' like to see the woman who is to be my wife receiving attentions from a man whose chsracter is, to say tho best of it, uncertain.” Daisy pouted, and tore tho petals off tho bunch of roses she wore in her belt. “You will not encourage him any more, Daisy ?” pleaded Herbert after a moment of silence. “I have not encouraged him, Her bert.” “At all events,” Herbert Winfield an swered, “you know how I feel upon the subject now, and I trust you will respect my opinions.” He went away, for the first time dur ing their engagement, without a kiss, anil Daisy, standing there on the piazza, thought how very unreasonable Herbert Winfield was growing. But a pretty girl of sixteen cannot always regulate her freaks and fancies, ns if sho were a staid matron of six and forty—and the very next day Miss Daisy allowed herself to be coaxed to a picnic party, where Mr. Revere Sykesleigh was one of tho principal actors, and, of course, Mr. Sykesleigh, being to a cer tain degree responsible for her presence, was obliged, not at all unwillingly, to see her there. And, ns ill luck would have it, sho was just driving up to the door, sitting by Mr. Sykesleigh’s side, when Herbert Winfield entered the gate. Ho turned instantly away. “Herbert,” she called, leaning over tho side of tho carriage—“Herbert I” But he either did not hear her or would not heed, and daisy was too proud to repeat the call. “Let him go,” sho thought to her self, with provoked dignity. “Ho wiil come back soon enough.” Here, however, was where Miss Daisy miscalculated tho relative strength of a man’s pride and a man’s love? Her bert waited for her to send for him -she waited for him to come, and neither of these events transpired. At tho end o' a month he wrote her a brief, cold note of farewell—she answered it by enclos ing the engagement ring without a word of comment. “But I won’t send the little gold dollar,” Daisy thought, with an invol untary pang at her heart. “Ho will never think of that !” How many engagements that might nave ripened into a long life of mutual happiness are broken, just so 1 Alas ! did wo know all life’s secrets, how soft our hearts would grow toward one another 1 Ten years afterward, and Daisy Wal lace, far away from her tree-bowered country home, was standing beside a meager lire of carefully-husbanded coals, her hands clasped thoughtfully before her, after tho old, girlish fashion she bad not yet forgotten. “I don't like to part with it, mother,” she said sadly; “it was pupa’s present, in tho old days !” “We can remember papa without any such relics, Daisy,” Mrs. Wallace an swered; “and we need the money.” Daisy took down tho little clock, with its carved garland of ivy leaves, from which tho dial peeped, with gilded hands and figures traced in dainty enamels. “I suppose it must go,” she sighed, “but I should like to keep it I” Nevertheless, Daisy put on her shawl and bonnet, and wrapped tho tiny clock in fragments of brown paper, iu- if f‘ had been a human creature. The keeper of the second hand curi osity shop was not at all anxious to buy the clock. “Ho had plenty of such trifles on hand already,” he said, “they did not sell well—but to oblige the lady, he would let her have a dollar for it.” “A dollar!” “And that’s more than it’s really worth.” the sly Jew answered. What was Daisy to do? What can a poor, forlorn woman do, when all the knaves and cheats in the world conspire against her? Only submit—and so Daisy left the clock and went slowly home, with the dirty one-dollar bill in her portemonnaie. The man put the clock in his window, chuckling to himself over his excellent bargain as he did so—and it was not : long before a customer arrived. Herbert Winfield wanted just such a I picturesque little piece of carving for | his library mantel—the very mantle i he and Daisy had talked about, years ■ ago—and he promptly walked in and . asked the price. “Ten dollars, sir—and cheap at that 1” the dealer answered. “Look at the carvings 1” And Herbert paid the ten dollars, and took the little clock home. “It. finishes up that side of the room very nicely,” Herbert thought. “Stay —I have half a mind to try how it would look on tho bracket over the ! table.” As he lifted it down, something seemed to click far down on the top of the case, below the carved wreath of ivory leaves—something so hidden and obscure that even the shrewd eyes of the Jew dealer had failed to perceive its presence. Herbert Winfield, his curiosity some what piqued, unscrewed the top, and there, on the dusty case, lay a slender ! blue ribbon, as if it had sometime been caught there, with a split gold dollar at tached to its azure fillet. ' Winfield Btartel, and colored, and his heart throbbed 1 It was as if Daisy’s own voice had called to him,out of the depths of the past I He was never one who took heed of sighs or omens—and this was a sign he could not disregard ! Straight to tho curiosity shop he went. “Who sold you that clock?” he asked. “The little French clock with the gar land of ivory leaves round the top, I mean !” The man turned to his books with a slow deliberation which was indescriba bly aggravating to Winfield’s feverish mood. “I don't know the name,” ho an swered, “but I know where they live. At No. Raymer street—a tall young lady, with brown eyes and very pale cheeks 1” How Herbert’s heart throbbed as he ascended the narrow, uncarpeted stair way of the tenement house, its ledges worn into little hollows by the tread of many feet, and knocked at the door which had been pointed out to him as the entrance to Mrs. Wallace’s room. How the old times came back to him as ho entered and saw Daisy sitting all alone at the window, sewing wearily away at same coarse work. Sho rose up, with a little shriek. “Herbert I ’ “Yes, Daisy, it is 11 Are you sorry to see me?” “Oh, no, no!” she sobbed. “I am so glad. I thought everybody had forgot ten me 1” “D.d you suppose I could ever forgei you, Daisy ?” Ho listened to the story of reverse and trouble which she had to tell, with a tender sympathy which soothed her like the touch of a friendly hand. “Why did you not send to me, Daisy?” he asked, almost reproachfully. “I thought you did not care for me any more, Herbert I” “Look in my eyes, Daisy, and tell me what you think now !” She glanced shyly up—then her look fell! “What do they tell you, Daisy ? Do they speak the secret of my heart, and say that I love you still as dearly as ever? Daisy, you will v'jie back to my heart.” He drew out the gold coin, hanging from its faded ribbon, and extended it smilingly toward her. “Oh, Herbert 1 I have missed it and wept over it so often. Where did you find it ?” He told her, adding: “It is a golden link, dearest, to bind our two hearts to gether; a little guide which has led mo back to your side, after all those years of estrangement 1” When Mrs. Wallace returned from her brief absence, she found Daisy once more the betrothed bride of Herbert Winfield. Tho ten years of trial and poverty were but a dream that had passed away and been forgotten—and round Daisy’s neck hung, as of old, the talisman sho had not seen for such a weary while—the tiny gold dollar on its ribbon of blue 1 Tho “course of true love” had not run smoothly, but it was true love, and ho it camo right at last I HIE DEATH OF CAPTAIN COO'L Sonic SlorlCM told About It Jinny Yearn liter If Took Finer. Among tho gods of this people was one Lono, the worship of whom was directed to a long pole bearing the im age of a human head at the summit. This Lono once resided on earth. De parting from his devotees in a canoe, he told them he would return in a canoe with wings. When the Hawaiians saw the English ship they concluded from the winged sales that their deity had come. Though of another color, Capt. Cook was tvidently a chief, and must surely be Lono. The strange part of the story is that Cook lent himself to the delu sion. Acquainted with the habits of Pacific Islanders, and observant of their modes of worship, he knew the forms of respect to himself were like those paid to a god. He permitted himself to be adorned for worship, and submitted to their sacrificial rites. Nay, more, he let himself be placed between two idols, be crowned with garlands like them, and be bowed to in prayers like those there addressed to them. It is true, the old missionary told the writer, tha* the natives, who had ever since lamented the murder, charitably supposed after their conversion that the Englishman was mad. This idea is somewhat borne out by the admitted fact that Cook had not long before received a sunstroke. As to the death of the Cap tain, the native story runs that, as he had given orders for his men to furnish themselves with firewood for the ship by taking away the sacred fence around the stone temple, great indignation was ex cited at the sacrilege. It was this that < xcited the insulting clamor. Tradition goes on to say that one man in particular, half suspecting that Cook was not the divinity expected, struck him with a stick at the back of the neck to test the question. The Captain cried out with the pain. Immediately the Hawaiian was satisfied he was only an imposition, for no God would feel the blow, and he struck him down with a mortal wound. Such was the story told the writer at Honolulu, the same that the mission aries heard from an aged actor in the scene 45 years after the sad event.— i The Atheneum. SAVED FROM THE SAVAGES A WRECK ON THE EAST COAST OF AiKICA. Over GOO on a French Transport Kcmcucml tn Ollicer who I.oM Him Button*. The British steamer Lord of the Isles, running from New York to China and Japan, which arrived in New Y’ork on August 23, rescued the officers and crew and half of the passengers of the French transport Averyon, which had been wrecked on the Somali coast near C ipe Guardafui, the eastern extremity of Af rica. Tho story of the wreck and the rescue was told by Mr. Evans first officer of the Lord of the Isles, to a reporter. The Averyon was returning home to France from Tonquin. She had on board 600 people, including her officers and crew and a marine guard of forty five men. There were on board many invalid soldiers from the French Army of occupation, and several officers and their wives. On August 20 she went ashore near Cape Guardafui. There was a heavy sea running in on the shore, and the Averyon was swung around so that the sea made a clean breach over her. A native village could be seen, and soon there were 3.00 C Somalis congregated on the shore. The chief came off to the ship and offered to lot the Frenchmen land if they would pay $6,000. All the money that could bo collected in the ship only amounted to 3600, and for this amount the natives agreed to let a party from tho transport land and establish a camp in which to store provisions. The natives were nearly naked, and were armed with bows and arrows, knives, hatchets aod assegais. They swam off to the ship by the hundred, but the marine guard, stationed with loaded rifles in the chains, prevented their boarding tho transport. The first lieutenant of the Averyon started with eleven men in a boat to effect a landing. His boat was overturned in the surf and the men thrown into the water. The natives immediately came to their res cue, and as they were taking the French men ashore stole everything out of their pockets, and captured the lieuten ant’s watch and chain. Tho lieutenant got a line to the ship and rigged up a sling so that men could go to and from the vessel. Some provisions were landed and a camp established. One of the mon in the first lieutenant’s boat was drowned when the boat was overturned, so that only ten men were left on shore. The natives watched carefully to see that no more landed, and any attempt to reinforce the party at the camp would have been the signal for a general mas sacre. The next day a German steamer, the Massalia, came along and took off 300 sick soldiers and women from the wrecked transport. She had no room for more and sailed away, leaving the 306 others to their fate. The sea was rising, the three thousand savages were clamoring for money, and things looked black for the Frenchmen. There were no arms aboard except two email cannon (which were fired as signals of distress continually), the rifles of the forty-five marines, and the pistols carried by the officers. On the evening of August 22, the Lord of tho Isles, passing up to ward the Gulf of Aden, heard the min ute guns and ran in to the wreck. The sea was so high that nothing could be done that day, but on the next the boats from the British steamer went off to the Averyon and took every one aboard the Lord of the Isles. The savages swam around the English boats, »nd tried to stick their hatchets through the boats’ bottoms. The party of French men on shore retreated to the Averyon when they saw that rescue was at hand. The first lieutenant was the last to leave the beach. As he placed himself in the sling to be hauled on board, the natives surrounded him and cut all the buttons off his uniform. When he was half way to the ship the savages began to haul on the line by which the sling was drawn ashore. The sailors on the ship hauled equally hard the other way, so that in the confusion the lieutenant was overturned and was hauled aboard feet first. He was nearly sufloci'cd when he reached the deck. Before leaving the Averyon the cap tain set her on fire. As the last boat load left the transport the entire 3,000 natives swarmed on board, and when the Lord of the Isles sailed away they could be seen shouting and fighting in the midslyof the flumes on the deck of the burning vessel. There was only sixty pounds of powder on board, the rest having been thrown overboard. Just before the Lord of the Isles got out of sight of the burning vessel the flames reached the powder. There was an ex plosion, the musts went by the board, and several hundred Ravages must have been killed. The rescued Frenchmen were landed at Aden. Stage Struck. —According to a the atrical manager, girls who recite “Cur few shall not ring to night,” soon make their applications for positions as Juliet and Pauline. Most of the girls who take part as servants have failed somewhere as Juliet. It cost an American a fine of 325 to rush through the streets of Vienna cry ing “Fire!” There was a fire, to be sure, bnt they didn’t want any fuss made about it THE HUMOROUS PAPERS. THEY GIVE ns A FEW MILD JDKEBt MAT AKE WORTH READING. Here are Stories About Fighting—An icy Joke—An InNiirnnee Report that won tow (Jootl—A Story of a Florist. Etc.» Etc. THE DETECTIVE NOT GUILTY. “What is the charge against the pris oner ?” “This gentleman lost his purse and aays he saw the prisoner find it, your Honor,” replied the officer. “Do you deny having found it, pris oner ?” asked the judge. “Yes, your Honor.” “What is your occupation?” “I am a detective. ” “The prisoner is discharged.” “Bnt, your Honor,” interrupted the officer, “he was seen to pick it up.” “That makes no difference. He is a detective, and it is utterly impossible for him to find anything.” AN ICY JOKE. The paragrapher was ruminating in hie sanctum when the iceman entered. “Why is it that you are always mak ing jokes about our business ?” asked the iceman. “Oh, because it seems to be under stood that you charge excessive prices. But, really, there’s no malice in our writing.” “I’m aware of that,” said the iceman, “and I’m sure I don’t mind it; in fact, I’m rather fond of jokes, and, by the way, I’ve got a good joke for you to day.” “Indeed,” said the paragrap'ner as he prepared to sharpen his pencil, “what is it ?” “It is,” said the iceman, with a grim smile, as he laid a paper on the para grapher’s desk, “it is the bill for your summer’s ice.”— Somerville Journal. NOT AS BAD AS FIGHTING, A veteran of the war was relating his experience as a soldier. “Were you ever taken prisoner ?” “I guess I was. I was a prisoner of war for eight months, and slept on the ground in the open air all the time. Some days I would get something to eat and some days I wouldn’t. I nearb starved to death.” “It must have been a terrible expe rience.” “It was, indeed, a frightful expe rience, but I tell you, gentlemen,” and here he lowered his voice and spoke very earnestly, “it wasn’t near as bad as fighting.” NEW YORK MILLIONAIRE. “Are the girls locked up for the night, w fe?” “Yes.” “Coachmen chained ?” “Yes.” “Has the patent butcher-catcher in the front yard been oiled so that it works well ?” “Yes.” “Well, we might as well chloroform the gardener and go to sleep.”— Chicago Tribune THE SEASONS. When the summer is departing and the year is growing old, When the forests are assuming richest hues of red ami gold, When a softer, deeper azure tints the cloud less noonday skies And the sunset gives us glimpses of the walls of Paradise ; When the song-birds have departed to a region less austere And their melody, mellifluous, greets no more the longing ear ; When the wild-goose flying southward of ap proaching winter warns, And the earth’s ripe fruitage, garnered, safely lies in sheltered barns ; When the nights are growing chilly and more welcome is the snn— It is then tho thrifty coalman adds a dollar to the ton. THE WEATHEn. A Western poet has produced an ode to the weather of ’B4, to be sung by a grandfather in 1960: Ah. yes, my child, ’twas ’81; The year I well remember; 1 froze my nose in full .Tidy, And burnt it in September. FATE OF THE INVINCIBLE. In the midst of the engagement,when tlie air was lurid with screaming shot and bursting shell, the Admiral on board the American flagship Invincible heard a crash on the port bow, and felt at the same time a light shock. He called the Quartermaster: “Was that the British ram that struck us ?” The Quartermaster saluted.. “No, sir,” said he, “it was a Jersey clam-boat.” “All hands abandon ship,” ordered the Admiral, with the calmness of de spair, for he knew that all was lost. In twenty minutes the Invincible lay safely at the bottom of the sea, where the clam-boat troubleth no more. TOO GOOD A REPORT. Insurance Agent—“lt’s all right. Tho doctor says you are the best risk he ever examined.” Citizen —“The best risk ?” “Yes; soundest constitution and per fect health, you know.” “Did he say that ?” “Yes, indeed. No trouble about your case. He said there was nothing to prevent you from living a hundred years.” “You don’t mean it?” “Honest truth. Come right around to my office and I’ll fix up the papers at once.” “No, thank you; it won’t pay. I’m too healthy.”— Kve. Call. Sensible.—She was a remarkably sensible young lady who made the re quest of her friends that after her de cease she should not be buried by the side of a brook, where babbling lovers would wake her from her dreams; nor in any grand cemetery, where sightseers, conning over epitaphs, might disturb her; but be laid away to her last sleep under the counter of some merchant who did not advertise in the newspapers. There, she said, was to be found a depth of quiet slumber, on which neither the sound of the buoyant foot of youth nor the weary shuffle of bld age would intrude. — ■ A Norristown man has a cook so ' pretty cml fascinating that the first day he employed her she “mashed” his ' tatoes. The next day she “mashed” his ' ion.