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LADY FORTESQUE’S DEATH. A LETTER FOUND WHICH KEPT THE BODY FROM A PAUPER’S GRAVE. A Lady of Noble Birth Dyin« Alone, Friend and Unknown in Chiea«o« The fact was developed that alone, friendless, and unknown, Lady Fortes que died in Chicago, under the name of Ellen C. Williams. She was the wife of Sir William Fortesque of England, who thirty years ago was a popular club man in London. In the summer of 1818 Sir William, on account of some peccadillo of which he had been guilty in London, was obliged to seek the seclusion of the country for a time. In the course of his wanderings he went to Hull, and fell in with the family of Capt. Murray, a re tired officer of the royal navy. The Captain’s daughter Ellen was then nine teen years old, and, judging from a picture found among her effects, which was painted about that time, she must have been very beautiful. The baronet, after a short, but successful wooing, gained her hand. They lived happily for a time, but soon Sir William’s old associations proved too strong for him, and the gaming table saw him oftener than his wife. Money, lands, houses, and even his good name went one by one. Throughout all his dissipation, how ever, he still preserved his love for his wife; for, influenced by her earnest so licitation, he at length consented to break loose from his old ties and come to America, there to begin a new life. Gathering together the remnants of what was once a large estate, the hus band and wife set sail for New York in September, 1859. Dissipation had al ready begun to tell upon Sir William, and, shattered in health, the pair trav eled through the country, hoping to re store the lost vitalities of youth. Their hopes were in vain, and in 1862 Sir William died in a small town in western Virginia. This left his wife alone and without friends. Her immediate relatives in England were dead, and she was obliged to depend entirely upon her own re sources. To add to her misfortunes a daughter had been born a short time be fore her husband’s death. For some time she eked out a scanty existence by giving music lessons. By close economy she saved up a few hundred dollars and went to Chicago, where she had resolved to become a doctor. In due time she was graduated from Rush Medical Col lege and began the practice of her pro fession, hampered by the many difficul ties which always beset a woman. In 1873 her daughter died, and the poor woman’s mind was badly affected for some time by this, the only tie which bound her to her former state. She con tinued to struggle along, sometimes in great poverty, sometimes in poor health, but always try ing to keep up her cour age. Fortesque died suddenly of apoplexy, and nothing was known of the event until at least twenty-four hours after it had occurred. The Coro ner held an inquest, and the body was about to be consigned to a pauper’s grave, when a letter was found sewed np in the hem of her dress, which gave directions for finding a sum of money to defray her funeral expenses. Papers were also found her past life, from which was gleaned her history. Among her effects were some silver plate, with the Fortesque arms engraved upon it, and several handsome rings, which the woman was too proud te awn. Water in the Highland*. The AUgemeine Zeitung gives some p irticulars of remarkable success in ii • dicating the presence of water springs by a man named Beraz, who seems to be a recognized authority in such mutters. The scene of his perform nice was in the Bavarian highlands, at a height of more than 1,300 feet above the live! of the sea. The C immune of Rothenberg suffered greatly from want f water, snd invited Beraz last an uuin to en deavor to find some source of supply for them. He inspected the locality one afternoon, in presence of the public au thorities, and announced that water was to l>e found in certain spots at depths which he stated. The first spot was in the lower village, and he gave the likely depth at between 62 and 72 feet, adding that the volume of water which the spring would give would lie about the diameter of an inch and a quarter. After incessant labor for four weeks, consisting mainly of rock blasting, the workmen came on a copious spring of water at a depth of almost 67 feet. What he declared about a water source for the upper village was very singular. He pointed to a spot where he said three water courses lay perpendicularly, under one another, and running in parallel courses. The first would be found at a depth of between 22) and 26 feet, and about the size of a wheaten straw, and running in the direction from southeast to northwest. The second lay about 42 feet deep, was of about the size of a thick quill, and ran in the same direc tion. The third he said, lay at a depth of about 56 feet, rnnning in the same direction, and as large as a man’s little finger. The actual results were as fol lows: The first water course was struck at a depth of 27j feet, running in the direction indicated, and having a diam eter of one-filth of an inch. The work men came on a second at a depth of 42 j feet, it had a diameter of 7-25ths of an inch. The third was found at 62) feet below the surface, and having a diam eter of 3-sths of an inch—all running in the direction Bsraz had indicated. A Want.—A Richmond, Va., re ligious paper says: Wanted —A man. Handsome or ugly; old or young; rich or poor; preacher or layman; sparkling with jewels or wrapped up in patches and rags—only let him be a man who can do one single act that is purely un selfish. Where is he? Who knows him ? Reader, can you fill the bill ? Try yourself for a week and let us know. @lje (Babette. VOL XII. SUMMERVILLE. GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY EVENING. APRILS, 1885. NO. 12. thus our life shines. The breezes play, the breezes away The laughing, careless trees, Whispering songs of far away Across the foaming seas. Where flowers crown the meadows brown And summer’s voice ne’er dies, Beneath the mellow harvest moon And the azure southern skies. The boughs hang low beneath the snow While harsh the north wind howls, And winter veils the summer’s glow Beneath his crystal cowls. Tims our life shines while Pleasure twines Her garland on its brow: But when in age its ray declines The buds all turn to snow. Alden Lyle. How sweet is love, if what we love be sweet; How pure is love, if what we love be pure; How fair is love, if what we love be meet; How tender, strong, and patient to endure, It is a draught to balm a bitter world; It is a flame to light a darkened way; It is a gem within the heart impearled; It is Divinity’s divinest ray. Let but my love of such complexion be, Sweet, pure and fair, and take the rest who craves; Fame, wealth and power are bubbles of the tea But love the deep sea is and all its waves. In sooth, in sooth, w’ere I in true faith told Take all the rest but love, I would cry, nay; But proffer love and all the rest withhold, And I would answer with my whole soul, “yea,” MOXEY. Ezra Alden was in love with Clara Scudder, and sometimes iu moments of great exaltation—for he was a modest youth, as every true lover should be—he had dared to think that she did not frown upon his passion. But Clara was the squire’s daughter and an heiress, while Ezra was but a small farmer, and so far from successful in that pursuit that it seemed absurd as well as impos sible that he should aspire to the hand of the lovely Miss Scudder, who had been courted iu vain even by fine city gentlemen. Ho he hud sighed and cast longing looks from his place in the choir (where he sung in a fine tenor voice on Sundays) into the squire's pew; and more than once he thought pretty Clara blushed brightly, and he knew well enough that she always smiled sweetly, and her voice when she spoke to him had a caressing sound, and alto gether her manner toward him was not discouraging. But Ezra would not be encouraged. Ho felt that it was useless for him to ask the squire for his daughter’s hand un less he had a good pot of money in his own hand with which to back his pro posal. So, instead of trying to compass the desired end by increased industry, he neglected his little farm more than before, and spent his whole time in wishing that ho could find a pot of money somehow, m the manner of old fashioned stories—at the foot of a tree or under the foundation of his house. I believe ho would even have sought it at the end of the rainbow, like the boy in the nursery rhyme, if ho bad been told there was a good chance of finding it there. Suddenly a rumor spread abroad that a wonderful gypsy had appeared, who was teliing people fortunes that came true in the most remarkable manner, and all the conntry-side was iu a state of excitement on the subject. She was of somewhat exclusive character, this madam gypsy, and could only be con sulted in a certain place, in the shadow of a wych-elm, in the open air, and dur ing certain hours—these hours being between the last rays of the declining sun and the first shadows of coming night. Os coureo the rumor of the gypsy’s marvelous fortune-telling reached Ezra Alden, and equally, of course, he was much exercised iu mind concerning it. He found out the place where the for tune-teller divined these fair fortunes, and one evening, after watching the sun slowly disappear behind the western hills, he repaired there stealthily, and a little afraid of meeting Clara Scudder somewhere in the vicinity, for the wych elm was just on the farther side of the squire’s farm. However, he met no one except a hurried squirrel fast speeding to its home, and it was even more scared at being met than Ezra was ; so he has tened to the wych-elm, and there, sure enough, * was madam gypsy, sitting curled up against the trunk, and look ing precisely as if she were waiting for him. f She was a very old woman, bent al most double; her lined and wrinkled face was the color of a butternut, and i the tangles of her hair hung in elf-like | grizzled locks about her brow and over | her cheeks; but her black eyes had a wonderful brilliancy and such a keen look that they seemed to see right , through him. She was wrapped in a ’ tattered old scarlet cloak, and a hood of j the same was drawn well over her head. | She gave a quick nod to Ezra, and mo- , tioned him to take a seat at her feet, : which he did with his heart thumping as ; if he were before the Delphic oracle. ■: And when she spoke he had to bend bis head and listen very attentively, for not only did she mutter het wrwrds in a very toothless fashion, but she spoke in so ; low a tone that he had some difficulty in hearing her, But he made out that she “I was expecting you, my son, and I know what you come for;” and then she held out a hand even more butternut than her face—a shaking and tremulous hand; and Ezra made haste to cross the palm with silver, that being, as he knew, the time-honored custom. This happened before we had begun the re turn to a specie basis; and silver was scarce, bnt Ezra had in his pocket a half-dollar piece, with a hole in it and a cross drawn on its face, which he had kept many years for luck. So, as there could be no more auspicions occasion than the present for using it, he timidly placed it in the gypsy’s hand, and again bent his ear attentively to listen to her unintelligible mumbling. "I know the desire of your heart, my pretty gentleman,” said the gypsy. “It is a certain maiden not a hundred miles away, only you have the faint heart that seldom wins a fair lady. But if yon could find a pot of money your spirit would be bolder. Listen to me and obey me and you shall have your w’ish.” Ezra did listen with all hh ears, and, as you may suppose, they we' > just then pretty long and wide, and capable of taking in a large amount. “You must dig np every foot of land you possess,” proceeded the gypsy; “you mustn’t grow weary in yonrsearch —you must dig and dig, continuously, and plant and harvest, and dig again, if necessary; and, mark my words, before a very long time, you will find the pot of money and the maiden will be yours.” Ezra listened with faith, and departed with joy in his heart. He fulfilled the fortune-teller’s injunction so well that all the country-side took to talking of him after the gypsy disappeared. He not only dug, but he plowed and sowed and harrowed; he seemed taken with a sud den mania for farming and work, which before had seemed distasteful and monot onous, now, that he had an object in view, was full of excitement and iu. terest. At first he dug and dug, looking for his pot of money; but as it did not turn up he continued to dig, full of faith, and growing every day more in terested in his efforts. “What on earth has got into Ezra Al den ?” asked the neighbors, one of an other. “Why, he has taken to working like all possessed. He’s hired a man, too, and the pair of ’em are at it from the first dawn of daylight to nightfall.” “Whatever has got into him he’s going to have the beet crops of the year,” an swered one. “Lucky fellow. Just when there’s going to be a rise in flour, too, and he has no end of wheat growing, and iu splendid condition. ” “Why, Clara, isn’t that Ezra Alden’s farm ?” asked the squire, as his daugh ter one day drove him past it in her pretty pony carriage. “Yes, sir,” returned Clara, with a faint pink stealing into her clear pale cheek. “Has some one else farmed it, then ?” asked the squire, “There isn’t another farm around here fit to compare with it.” The pink in Clara’s cheek deepened to a lovely crimson. “Oh, no, papa,” she said, softly, “it seems Ezra—Mr. Alden, has just de veloped a sudden talent for farming.” “And a very first-rate talent, I should say,” said the old gentleman. “A man who can show such a farm as that can hold his head as high as any one.” Clara’s eyes glowed and sparkled. She touched her ponies lightly; and her happy thoughts rushed off into the future at a pace to rival even their fast trotting. As the neighbors had foretold, Ezra Alden had particularly fine crops that season; and his success at farming hav ing also developed his commercial abil ity, he sold all that he had to sell to ex cellent advantage. “Well,” said Ezra, as he counted his gains, and tied them securely in his money-bag, “I haven’t found my pot of money, but this little pile is not to be despised, and I shall keep on. By George I I wonder if this was what the old gypsy meant.” Ezra had some time on his hands now for dreaming; and he took to sighing for Clara once more, but in a more hopeful spirit. “I will speak to her father,” he thought; “and, if he gives me encour agement, I will ask Clara, plump, if she will marry me.” Now, some young man would have thought it safer to win the daughter's consent first; but Ezra was too honor able for that “If the squire won’t have me,” he said to himself, “it’s no use to ask Clara She would never disobey her father. I shouldn’t care half as much for her if she would.” So he took his money-bag in his hand and sought the presence of Squire Scudder. The squire sat reading a novel of the Pickwick Papers in his handsome old fashioned parlor, and being in a very genial mood, he received Ezra with the most encouraging kindness, and listened to all that he had to say with a be nignant smile. “It is not a great deal,” concluded Ezra, holding up his money-bag, “but there’s plenty more, where I found this, sir.” “And pray, where did you find it, Mr. Alden?” asked the squire rather taken aback. “At the roots of my wheat and bar ley,” answered Ezra, adding, with a laugh: “To tell the truth, sir, I con sulted a fortune-teller, and she told me to dig and dig, and I would certainly find a pot of money. I haven’t found it yet, but I intend to keep on digging, and I don’t doubt but I shall find it by and by.” Squire Scudder burst into a hearty laugh, and kindly patted Ezra on the shoulder. “I don’t doubt but you will, my lad,” fie said, cheerily. “Honest industry is the best pot of money any young man ever found. As for Clara, you can talk over that matter with herself— she’s sitting there by the window, hid den behind the curtains.” Now that was dreadfully mean of the squire, not to have given Ezra a hint of Clara’s presence before; but ho didn’t mean it. It seems quite impossible for these old gentlemen to realize how seri ous such matters are to boys and girls. Squire Sondder rose with a nod and a smile, and went away, leaving Ezra in dire confusion, staring at the window curtains; and wishing the floor would open and swallow him. But it didn’t. Instead, the window curtains opened and a lovely young lady stepped out from them. “So, Mr. Alden,” she said, stepping forward, “you consulted the gypsy for tune-teller, too ?” “Oh, Miss Scudder—Clara—you have heard everything,” stammered Ezra, sinking into the chair from which ho had risen in his first consternation. “What a terrible fool you must think me 1” “But I don’t—l have great confidence in that gypsy’s predictions.” “Then you consulted her, too,” asked Ezra. “Dozens of times—she beguiled me of nil my small silver.” “Well, she got but a single piece from me, that’s some comfort,” said Ezra, recovering somewhat, and ventur ing to laugh slightly. “Was it anything like this?” asked Miss Scudder, producing one from her pocket, and holding it toward Ezra on the palm of a hand like cream. Ezra looked and started, and gave a little cry. It was bis own lucky silver piece. Ho glanced into the laughing, blushing face; and then for the first time he looked straight into Clara Scud der’s eyes. They were very, very dark and wonderfully brilliant; but this time they did not seem to look through him —they sank before his glance, and veiled themselves under lovely, long, black lashes. “Oh, Clara!” murmured Ezra; “you were the gypsy ?” “Os course I was.” ' 'And you knew I loved you all the time ?” “Os course I did, you foolish boy—■ that’s why I had to invent away of tell ing you so.” Domestic Recipes. A good tomato soup may be made by this recipe: Chop fine half a turnip, one carrot, two small onions, one stalk of celery and three sprigs of parsley; mix with one can of tomatoes and one quart of water, seasoning with one teaspoonful each of salt and sugar and a little pepper. Boil gently for one hour. As the water boils away add more, so that the quan tity may not be diminished. Mix two heaping tableepoonfuls of flour thor oughly with one of butter, and thin the mixture with some of the soup. Then mix the thickening with the soup and boil for five minutes. Strain the soup and serve. For a mutton ragout cut three pounds of the neck or breast of mutton in pieces an inch wide and two inches long, put them in a saucepan with two ounces of butter; set on the fire and stir occasion ally until brown, then add a tablespoon ful of flour; stir for one minute and cover with cold water, salting to taste. Season with one onion, a bunch of sea soning composed of one bay-leaf, one sprig of thyme, four of parsley and a clove, also one clove of gariic chopped fine. Boil gently until two-thirds done; then add pieces of peeled potato, cut in the shape of orange carpels, as many pieces of potato as of mutton. Boil gently until done. Place the meat in the center of the dish with the pieces of potato around it. Skim the fat from the sauce and strain it over the dish. Serve very hot. Veal cutlets prepared in this way are palatable: After trimming the cutlets nicely, dip them in melted butter and dust them well with a mixture of equal parts of grated Parmesan cheese and bread-crumbs. Then dip them in beaten egg and dust them again on both sides with the cheese and crumb mixture and fry them brown. Boil half a pound of macaroni, and after it is drained add two ounces of butter and a cupful of tomato sauce, some grated Parmesan cheese and salt to taste. Let this become thor oughly hot, stirring occasionally. Put in the center of a dish and place the outlets around it A Bill—The Michigan Legislature is considering a bill which provides that the occupation of every candidate on a ticket be printed opposite his name. “This might be all right in Michigan,” says a local paper, and adds, “We won der how it would suit some of the candi dates for office in New York. ” LOCKED IN THE LAKE. ARCTIC EXPERIENCE OF THE PRO PEELER MICHIGAN. Seventeen Men Leave the Ship mid Thirty Mllcw of Ice fori tHnUtn-nce—Terri ble Stiflerii>K ou the Rond—Crowned witb SncceßM—The Lake Frozen. A dispatch from Grand Haven, Mich., says: Full particular’s were received here regarding the terrible experience of the crew of the ice-locked steamer Michigan. On Monday morning, February 9, the Michigan, with Capt. Prindiville and twenty-nine men on board, left this port in search of the distressed steamer Oneida. When off Ludington the Mich igan encountered a gale and was hemmed in by heavy ice. She drifted with the ice to the southward, experien cing many dangers, but at no time being within twenty miles of land. She finally got in compact ice, many feet thick, to ward the head of the lake, but on ac count of the drifting and fuming they could not tel! their exact whereabouts- Sunday last it was decided that, owing to short provisions, half of the crew would have to go ashore, as the food would lost but a week longer. Monday was very stormy. Tuesday morning, from the crosstrees, a rim of land was sighted to the eastward. Thir teen men were chosen to remain and seventeen of the most hardy to make the land. The mercury was ten below. At 7 o’clock Joseph Russell, first mate; David Martin, steward; W. P. Kenny, clerk, and fourteen of the crew, started with a day’s rations, axes, pikehole, blankets, etc., expecting that they might have to be out over night, as the land seemed thirty miles away. When about twelve miles off the boat, Clerk Kenny broke through the ice, wetting his right leg to the knee. They went on about six miles, when they found Kenny’s leg frozen. Ail were badly ex hausted, as the ice was very rough and blocked into nearly impassable ridges many feet high and miles wide. Each man went for himself, knowing that life depended on his own exertions, except Russell and Martin, who helped Kenny. When off land four miles Kenny cou! d not stand, and dragged himself along on his hands and knees for two miles, when he was completely exhausted and so frozen that he could not move and urged the others to leave him and save themselves. Some of the party had by this time — 5 o’clock—reached the shore, and found a few houses at West Casco. They warned the neighborhood, uitd the farm ers went out and carried the brave but insensible Kenny to the beach. The land there rises 160 feet almost straight. All bands worked like horses to throw off the insensibility creeping on them and climb the steep. Heaving lines were placed on Kenny, and he was drawn up by those above and carried to a dwelling. The mon were apportioned around among the farmers, who willing ly cared for them. Kenny recovered at 10, and everything was dona for him that was possible. All of the men are able to take cara of themselves except Kenny. The surgeons have dressed his limbs, and it is hoped he will soon be all right. The Michigan is now in no dan ger, since so many of the crew have left, the provisions will last the rest 30 days. A Mormon Story. A Mormon bishop told a friend of the editor of a Salt Lake paper of this, a few days ago, that he had suffered with the* blues all day, because of something one of his daughters had said to him. When asked to explain, he said: “You know my daughter Mary, the eldest child of my second wife ? She is about the age of Lizzie, who is the daughter of my first wife. Well, this morning f was going with Mary over to Lizzie’s mother’s when she suddenly s lid : “ ‘Father, I wish I was Lizzie.’ “I asked her why, and reminded her that she was quite as bright and pretty as Lizzie. “ ‘lt is not that,’ she said; ‘Lizzie’s mother is your first wife.’ “We did not speak again all the way, and I have had the blues ever since.” This is a true story all but the names, Very . tor Coffee. An individual, evidently connected with the coffee trade, writes to the A/«Z ieal Record to say that the colored and polished coffee pronounced deleterious by the Board of Health is a small mat ter as compared with the sale of “pool skimmings." Skimmings coffee is a damaged and decayed article, usually Java, which has “sweated” aboard ship, and thus turns of a rich brown color, though the berry is wholly decayed and has an offensive odor. The ’'skimmings” is dried and mixed with sound coffee. A quantity of it was sold recently for three quarters of a cent a pound. Three years ago 30,000 bags of the rot ten berry were disposed of in New York from the wreck of the Pliny, from Rio. A Gain.—A Vermont farmer made a net profit of 843.50 from the produce of a single hen turkey during the past sea son. This is equal to 100 bushels of wheat in Kansas at 43 cents per bushel, with this difference: It would cost as much to raise and harvest the wheat as it would bring, while the proceeds of tho turkey were clear gain. THE MARDI GRAS PAGEANTS. A Visitor’s l<npr«M«loiiM of Brilliant Street Spectacles ot New Orleans. The whole city gave itself up reck, lessly to the Mardi Gras (Fat Tuesday), writes a New Orleans correspondent. No pageant of any kind that New York has ever seen can compare with the Carnival processions. The fun began on Monday, the day before Mardi Gras, with the arrival of Rex. The King this year was personated by a young cotton broker, who is a well-known club man and popular about town. His name is supposed to be a secret, but it is well known who he is. He was received at the station by a military escort, and three or four wagon loads of harlequins and jugglers. He was mounted on a milk-white steed, and the grand cortege proceeded to the City Hall, where the keys of the city were presented to him by a curly-haired and awkward Mayor, who made a speech which nobody heard excepting a very obvious reporter, who was quite the most important person present. He wore a high beaver that looked as if it had borne the brunt of action, and his willowy form was clad in a faded ulster that was bnttonless and frayed. His gold-rimmed glasses rested on a nose that was decidedly of the ac quisitive order, and a pair of out-at-the finger gloves adorned his hands. When he first appeared he came rushing up the street as though the fate of nations depended on his speed, and stalked majestically through the crowd. A large pie-plate shield glistened upon his shoulder. He sprang up the steps of the City Hall and shouted for the Mayor. Men, women, and children stepped aside, and he suddenly found himself alongside his Honor. The Mayor looked at the pie-plate badge, and was impressed. The reporter burst into a glassy but engaging smile, said “How are you ?” and then glanced around at the admiring multitude. He took up his position alongside the Mayor, and produced a roll of white paper in which grocers usually wrap tea. He drew a penoil out of the breast pocket of his coat, and glanced critically at the vast throng. Then he made a pleasing re mark to the Mayor, who looked gratified at the attention, and straightway began to take copions notes of the scene be fore him. Two thousand eyes were ad miringly fixed upon him while ho reeled off page after page of notes, „ Then Rex appeared in the distance, and the eyes of the throng were for a moment diverted. A moment later Rex stopped, and the Mayor began his speech. It was uttered deep down in his Honor’s throat, and was only heard by the reporter, who proved an appreciative and volatile listener, shout ing “BravoI” “Very good 1” and “Hear I Hear 1” at intervals, so that finally the Mayor turned around and delivered the whole speech into the reporter’s ear, the reporter meanwhile displaying a a smile that outshone the radiance of his badge. He took notes with earnest ness all the time. Then a very small girl in pink, hold ing up a very large cushion on which rested a gilt key, was carrried down and placed beside a charger which the King bestrode. His Majesty took the key and the procession moved on. That night there was a procession of floats, It is impossible to give any idea of the beauty of these night pageants. The floats are two stories high and of enor mous size. They are splendid in gilt and tinsel, and with the living figures in costumes are as spectacularly beauti full as any of the great show pieces on the New York stage. If the most strik ing tableaus of the “Black Crook,” “S irdanapalus,” the “Seven Ravens,” and “Excelsior” could be seen in rapid succession, they would be disappointing, compared with the Mardi Gras night pageants—except in the matter of shapely orcans of locomotion. Women Hnlo fn Bantam. Among the colonial possessions, or, more correctly, dependencies, of Hol land, says a foreign letter writer, there is a remarkable little State which, in its constitution and the original costume of its inhabitants, surpasses the boldest of dreapis of the advocates of women’s rights. In the Island of Java, between the cities of Batavia and Samarane, is the Kingdom of Bantam, which, although tributary to Holland, is an independent State. The Sovereign is, indeed, a mon, but all the rest of the government be longs to the fair sex. The King is en tirely dependent upon his State Council. The highest authorities, military com manders and soldiers are, without ex ception, of female sex. These amazons ride in the masculine style, wearing sharp steel points instead of spurs. They carry a pointed lance, which they swing very gracefully, and also a musket, which is discharged at full gallop. The capital of this little State lies in the most picturesque part of the island in a fruitful plain, and is defended by two well-kept fortresses. I believe in the colossal; a need deep as hell and grace as high as heaven. I believe in a pit that is bottomless and a heaven that is topless. I believe in an infinite God and an infinite atonement; iu love and mercy; an everlasting cove nant ordered in all things sure, of which the substance and reality is an infinite 1 Christ. STRAY BITS OF HUMOR FOUND IN THE CObUMIM OF OUB EXCHANGES. All Broken Up—Kindness In rlie Extreme —A Cautious l.over-Very Busy-Some body Suylnv NouietUlnc, Etc., Etc. ALL BROKEN UP. “Well, I got on a freight train and rode np to Hubbleson’s siding, forty three mild that night, to see my girl,” said a western young man in conver sation with Burdette. “I allowed to visit with her folks all that night and Sunday, on’ come home on the passen ger Monday mornin’. She lives six mild from the station, an’ I tramped out to the house in all that blizzard, ani got there ’long ’bout ’leven o’clock Saturday night. An’ I’il be teetotally cow kicked by u bjillrush if there was a livin’ soul to home I Old folks, ’t seems, had gone away to Lincoln to stay over Sunday, my girl had went down to Grier’s Island to stay a week, the hired man had taken the only horse left on the place an’ gone down to a dance on Beasely’s branch, eleven mild away, nn’ there I was, left over Sunday where I didn’t know a soul. Went to Deacon Mumbler’s an’ told him who my father was, an’ he kept me. Beacon’s stone blind and has the asthma so bad he can’t talk ; his wife’s so deef she can’t hear it thunder, they have no children an’ don’t keep no help, an’ don’t cook anything Sundays. I went to church three times that day and went to two funerals; the deacon goes to bed at eight o’clock and so I shivered on a straw bed under a cotton quilt in a north room for thirteen hours. Now think of all that when a feller’d been ex pectin’ a turkey dinner, Bingin’ ‘Hold the Fort,’ by a melodeon all afternoon an’ huggin’ the prettiest girl in all New brasky from sundown till one o’clock in the mornin’, an’ tell me es I ain’t got more right to feel broke up than any man this aide o’ the kingdom? Say ‘no’ an’ Til slam you on top o’ the head witb this overshoe !” HOW THE DOCTORS CURED HIM. Two doctors were disputing by the bedsi'de of County Clerk Keenan during his recent illness. “I tell you the liver is diseased,” said one. “Nonsense; nothing of the kind. It is the spleen,” said the other. '' “Very well; we shall see who is in the right at the post-mortem examination.” Hearing which Keenan became real mad and got up and dressed himself. He began to improve from that time and hasn’t known a sick day since. GOOD AND BAD CITIES. Bad city for the wicked—Oinn. Good city for the empty—Phil, Good city for the Indian—Lo-well. Bad city for a man with false teeth— Gnash viile. Good city for a laundry—Washington. Good city for the wealthy—Rich mond. Good town for a sea captain—Salem. Bad city for a musician—Sing Sing. Good city for impudent dudes— Yonsjg-kers. A COMPLIMENT IN DOUBT. Dear friend Clara (looking at Belle’s photograph)—“What a lovely picture I” Belle—“Do you really think it looks like me I” Dear friend Clara—“Oh, no, dear; not a particle.”—Boston Transcript. THE MERITS IN THE CASE. “What are the relative merits in the case?” asked the attorney of a young man who had sought his advice in rela tion to a divorce. “Relative merits?” reiterated the young man, who was apparently dazzled at the remark. “Yes,” replied the attorney. “Well, the relalive merits in the cibo is an exasperated son-in-law, and the de merits is a meddling mother-in-law.— Pretzel’s Weekly. KINDNESS IN THE EXTREME. “Well, dea< on, have you remembered the poor during this cold weather ?" “Yes, parson, I think of them vesy often. Only yesterday a poor, shiver ing little fellow came to my door with out clothes enough to cover his naked ness. It was a very pathetic sight.” ‘‘What did you do for the poor little creature, deacon?” “Let him shovel off my sidewalk and it made him nice and warm, he actually 1 icrspired. ’’ — Ch icago News. SADLY DEGENERATED BY CUPID. “Have you noticed how Mary D. has changed of late ?” asked a stately beauty, caressing a diminutive blaok and-tan, whose collar was ornamented with silver bells. “What’s the matter with her?” was the query. “Why, you know she was married last week, and her maid informs me that she has not fed her dog once since her marriage; has scarcely noticed him, in fact. She actually seems to prefer the society of her husband.” Exclamations of astonishment. COULD BE SEEN AT A GLANCE. Jones—Some fellows have no more spunk about them than a baby. Smith—Why do you think so ? J.—Saw a couple going along the road in a sleigh a short time ago. He was driving with both hands and she was sitting fully a foot apart from him. S.—H’m ! Married couple, I guess.— Boston Courier. Imports and Exports. The Chief of the Bureau of Statistics of the United States, in his seventh monthly statement, reports that the ex cess of the value of exports over imports of merchandise was for the twelve months ended January 31, 1885, 8138,. 756,652. The total values of the im ports of merchandise for the twelve months ended January 31, 1885. were 8617,166,928, and for the preceding twelvemonths 8681 405,635, a decrease of 867,238,707. The total values of the exports of merchandise for the twelve mouths ended January 31, 1885, were ’ 8755,923,580,