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THE SEW CENSUS.
How the Census Will be Taken and What It
Will Probably Show.
The work of taking the Slate census
of 1885 will begin May 1. It will be
divided into three periols. The enu
meration of the population w.ll be com
menced promptly on May Day, the
enumerators going a-Miyhig in search
of statistics. On the 15th of Jaly the
collection of statistics relative to manu
factures will begin, and in November the
census of agriculture will be taken.
Both personal enumeration and the dis
tribution of blanks will be resorted to at
different stages of the work. By thus
dividing ap the work two desirable
results are secured—greater accuracy
and prompt tabulation of data. The office
force, trained by the tabulation of people,
will be ready in July to labor the more
rapidly, because the more understand
ingly, on the statistics of manufacture,
in which they will Svqdiie the experi
ence qualifying for the rapid handling of
the collected results of the third and
final division of the census. By taking
the statistics of agriculture in November
the data relating to the crops harvested
in the coming autumn will be secured.
The State census coming midway be
tween Federal censuses enables Massa
chusetts to maintain a closer knowledge
of its growth and development than is
possible with many other States. Thus
the United States took censuses in 1870
and 1880, while Massachusetts enumer
ated her people and recorded her manu
facturers and agriculture with their out
comes in 1875, and is now getting ready
for doing the same this year.
Our census of 1885 will thus come
half-way between the Federal census of
1880 and that which the United States
will take in 1890. Col. Wright says the
census of this year will show Massachu
setts to have a population of from
2,000,000 to 2,030,000 souls. In 1875
the State census showed 1,651,919 in
habitants, and five years later the Fed
eral enumerators found 1,783,085 people
residing in the old Commonwealth. It
will thus l»e seen that the State’s popu
lation is growing steadily and at a
healthy rate of increase. Assuming that
the actual enumeration this year shows
a population of 2,000,000, the gain in
ten years will bo about 348,000. The
increase c r 1880 will be nearly 217,-
000. The percentage of gain over 1875
will be about 21 per cent, and rather
more than 12 j»er cent, over 1880. Mas
sachusetts is the only one of the New
England States showing such a gain,
and she secures it at the expense of the
others. Massachusetts draws on Maine,
New Hampshire and Vermont for her
increase, the tendency of emigration in
the two States south of us being toward
New York.— Boston Transcript.
—-SB - ■ -
Amci ico-Russian Privateers.
The San Francisco Examiner says:—
it isrumorel that a geuleman connected
with a prominent bank in Ban Francisco
has approached the Russian Consul in
regard to fitting out privateers in case
of war with England. He is said to rep
resent capitalists who have already
selected three first-cless steamships now
in the harlior. The initter is kept very
quiet, as it is evident that the idea is
such a good one that it should be con
cealed from any one else who might pro
fit by it. Americans are, of course,
engaged in the enterprise, and it is quiet
authoritatively stated that crews have
been chosen who consist of Americans
and Irish.
“How are you going to get your ar
mament on your ships ?” asked a re
porter of an interested party.
“We can ship them as ballast and
swing them into position outside."
“And in this you will not violate in
ternation law ?”
“We are advised that a vessel may
take out any cargo she pleases, whether
it be composed of cannons or wheat.”
“Which Government is Hable to get
the service of the privateers yen refer
to?”
‘ The Russian Government, of course.
Privateers could make no money in the
English service, because the Russians
have no shipping in these waters of any
consequence. Oa the other hand, the
seas are covered with the ships of her
Brdanuie Majesty."
—
A Veteran.
In a field on the Gardiner Smith farm,
near the road between Ellenville and
Kingston, says the Utica Herald, is a
chestnut tree which is both a natural
curiosity and an ancient landmark. The
trunk is eight feet in diameter. Four
feet from the ground a white elm tree a
foot in diameter projects from the trunk.
It is supposed that there was once a cav
ity or depression in the side of the chest
nut tree, which became filled with de
cayed vegetable matter, into which a
seed from an elm had lodged, and from
which sprang the present elm. The
latter has spreading branches, which
mingle their foliage with that of the
chestnut every year. Both trees are
sound. The chestnut was an important
landmark in the ancient Indian trail
leading from Esopus to the Delaware
Water Gap, down the Neversink and
Delaware valleys. It is mentioned in
many old legal documents of Ulster
county. The tree is about 600 years
old. _ T
The Egyptian Soldiers.
The letters appearing in the English
journals relate that the Egyptians,
whose courage has been so often
doubted, fought like lions on board
those armed river steamers on the Nile;
in fact, they never broke down save
once, and that was when they heard of
the fall and sack of Khartoum. Then
their hearts sank, and even Kashu-el-
Mur and his officers prostrated them
selves on the deck and wept like chil
dren. In the disastrous retreat from
Gakdui to Korti the wounded owed
their safet> to the Egyptian soldiers,
who carried them every step of that
weary way with a patience, tenderness
and fidelity which secured Lord Wolse
ley’s praise.
£ljc Summerville (©alette.
VOL. XII.
THE FUTURE YEARS.
In all the future years, my sweet
(Now roses blossom at tby feet,
And time flics by with footsteps fleet) —
But in the future years,
What lives for ns, or joy or grief ?
A happiness beyond belief,
Bright smiles or bitter tears ?
In all the future years, my own,
Shall one of us be left alone,
Missing the other’s loving tone,
Throughout the future years?
Or shall we be together, where
Together we may gladly share
Each other’s hoped and fears ?
The future years—ah ! who can say
Which of us two will pass away
From earthly hope and love for aye,
From all that Faith endears ?
I only breathe a pray’r for thee
That where I am, there thou may’st be
Thro’ all the future years ’
Cecil Lorraine.
A. Love Story.
The Reverend Dr. Melton was just be
ginning to feel at home in bis new par
sonage when he was surprised one even
ing to receive a call from his classmate
Harvey Leigh. In college days they
had been friends, and for a while after
their graduation they hail exchanged
letters and visits; but the letters and
visits had come to an end long ago, and
it was many years since they had met.
After some conversation on general
matters. Dr. Melton said:
“You have a son. I believe, to per
v-tuate the name ?”
'One son—an only child. Morton is
twenty-four, and reading law in my of
fice. A bright fellow, too; never gives
me a moment’s uneasiness; always at
work; steady-going; no boyish nonsense
about him.”
“And when is your boy to marry?”
asked the doclor.
“Oh, it is not quite arranged yet.”
“So you arrange marriages in Phila
delphia? And this particular marriage
is not quite arranged ? Humph I I
don’t understand that sort of thing. Up
in the country it is, ‘Mary, I love yon,’
and ‘Jack, I love you in return,’ and
then my services are called for. How
dees one arrange a marriage in Philadel
phia ?”
The touch of sarcasm was quite lost
on Mr. Leigh, who had crossed his legs,
and sat absorbed in thought, frowning
at the patent-leather tip of his neat
shoo. His hoot watched him until he
uncrossed his legs and looked up.
“Have you any daughters, doctor ?”
he asked.
“Two of them.”
“Grown up ?”
“I hope so; otherwise they will tower
over my head.”
“And do yon understand them?”
asked Mr. Leigh, with a gravity that
made the parson’s blue eyes twinkle and
the corner of his mouth twitch.
" Oh, no, I don’t understand them ;
I don’t understand any creature in petti
coats ; but my daughters are good
girls, and their mother assures me that
they are remarkably gifted. What do I
want to understand them for ?”
"It might be an advantage under
some circumstances,” Mr. Leigh re
marked.
“What is the matter? What girl do
you think it might lie an advantage to
understand ?”
“My ward,” answered Mr. Leigh.
" She is an orphan, a far away cousin
of my wife, and she has lived with us
for the past five years. She has a nice
little fortune; she is pretty ; she is well,
bred ”
“ That goes without saying,” muttered
the parson, stroking his long beard.
“ But she hasn't a grain of common
sense. ” Mr. Leigh rose, took up a posi
tion on the rug, slipped his left hand
under the short tails of his cut-away
coat, and gesticulated with his right as
he warmed to the story. “ Last sum
mer,” he began, “she was twenty-one,
and just out of school. She went to
Cape May with the Phippards, people
in whom I placed the utmost confidence.
I thought she was safe with them ; but
lo and behold 1 she must make the
acquaintance of a young gentleman who
held the responsible position of book
keeper in one of our large hardware
shops, a retail concern, and he has sold
many a paper of tacks over the counter.
I was in Europe; so this interesting
tack-seller ran down to Cape May every
Sunday, and staid until Monday. Then
he had a clerk’s two weeks’ vacation,
and he spent that at Cape May. I came
back in October, and before I had been
home twenty-four hours who should call
at the house but this young man ? He
wanted to see me, and I saw him, and
was informed by him that he had wooed
and won my ward. I asked if he pro
posed to take her to live over the shop.”
Mr. Leigh’s thin lips curled down
ward; he glanced at the parson for sym
pathy,- bat he encountered a steady,
somewhat critical look. Dr. Melton
took the pipe out of his mouth and blew
a cloud of smoke upward through his
mustache.
“Why shouldn’t they live over the
shop?” he said.
“Ob, you don’t understand,” Mr.
Leigh exclaimed, fretfully. “She has
been brought up in luxury, and she
ought so have some idea of what is
proper and fitting. There has been a
terrible time. Why, I assure you I
have had the sympathy of all Philadel
phia. This hardware man had the
SUMMERVILLE, GEORGIA. WEDNESDAY EVENING. JUI3 10,1885.
effrontery to say that ho had money
enough to take o.iro of a wife, just as
though he had never thought of my
ward’s little fortune. He begged mo to
go and see his exployers—people I
never dreamt of—and I told him that
I did not want their recommendations;
I did not propose to hire a bookkeeper.
He was insolent, and I ordered him out.
Then she blazed away at me, the weak,
infatuated girl. I tried to reason with
her; my wife talked to her; my son—
Well, you see, my son wanted to marry
her too, and he would have made just
the husband for her, but she told him if
he spoke to her she would ask her hard
ware man to protect her. Think of it 1
As though Morton would insult her—
the best-mannered man that ever lived.”
Mr. Leigh had grown excited. His
cigar had gone out, and he relighted it,
drawing at it fiercely until the end
burned bright like a bit of coal.
“And Morton is very fond of her,”
he continued—“so fond of her, in fact,
that he is waiting like a hero for this to
blow over. I think the farce is nearly
ended, for the hardware man became
partner the other day in a nail factory
or something of that sort, and a week
ago he sailed for Europe. He will have
to stay a year, traveling for his firm,
and when he comes back—” Mr. Leigh
broke off to smile astutely and to drop
the lid over his left eye.
“I don’t exactly understand your ob
jections to him,” said Dr. Melton,
slowly. “Does he drink, or keep low
company ?”
“No,” answered Mr. Leigh; “but—’>
“I beg your panion,” said the doc
tor, interrupting him, “but I want to
speak in his behalf. Ha must be indus
trious, and no fool, and prospering, or
he would not have jumped into thia
new position. I confess I don’t think
you have made out a clear case. Os
course you want to see your son happy;
but if she does not love your son that
ends the matter. And if she does love
this other man, and he is honest and
upright, why should he not have her ?”
“He is not hex equal,” said Mr.
Leigh. “You know in Philadelphia—”
The parson rose np with a stifled ex
clamation that, coming from a layman’s
lips, might have sounded profane.
“It is warmrin here,” he said. "I
want a little fresh air; I am not used to
a furnace-heated house. Poor girl 1
The city has not yet claimed mo for its
own, and I miss the fire-place in my old
study. Poor fellow 1”
He threw up the window and looked
out on a wide expanse of tiny high
fenced back yards; but overhead was the
clear sea of sky, whore the moon rode
at anchor amid the fleet of stars. He
stood there drawing in the crisp Decem
ber air, until a tap sounded on the door.
“Come in,” he cried, and one of his
daughters entered—a tall, slim girl with
tier father’s blue eyes.
“Papa,” she said, pressing close to him
and smiling mysteriously, “there arc
some people in the parlor.”
“Drawing-room, my dear,” said the
doctor. “We are in Philadelphia.”
“We are not, but no matter," she re- I
turned. “I tell you there are some peo
ple in the parlor, and I think it is our
first town wedding. She is very pretty,
and she has on the loveliest little bonnet
you ever saw. Go marry ’em quick, and
let me be a witness, only they have two
•vitnesses with them.”
He passed his arm about her and
cissed her, she did not know why; then
led her to his guest.
“M Hie, this is a clnsfmxte of mine.
My daughter, Mr. Leigh—Mr. Harvey
Leigh, of Puiladelphia. You must ex
<nse me for a few minutes."
He went into the adjoining parlor.
Yes, it was a wedding party, no doubt,
out the wonld-lie bride and groom did
.iot look like the brides and grooms that
seek out a parson in such a fashion.
The man was a gentleman, with a fine
face and dignified bearing. The girl
was pretty, but more than that, she had
an air of courage, of self-reliance; she
was not a weak piece of pink and white
flesh. An older couple was with them,
a somewhat, frightened middle-aged man
nud a very nervous middle-aged woman,
evidently his wife, for she clung to his
arm helplessly.
“I am William Dunbar,” said the
young man. The parson shook hands
with him. “And this,” he added, turn
ing to the young lady, “is Miss Kate
ferry. We ire both of age—in fact, I
am thirty-three—and I hope you will
:.e good enough to marry us.”
Mr. Dunbar was very much in earnest,
but he smiled a little. “Our marriage
is sudden,” he added, "because I must
rail for Europe to-morrow, and I want
to take my wife with me. ”
The parson looked at him, then at the
girl. Her eyes met his steadily, though
a faint flush stole into her cheeks.
“Where fs your home ?” he asked.
“I have none,” she answered. "I
have neither father nor mother. I have
been living in Philadelphia with my
guardian.” The words were spoken
softly, but her eyes flashed. “I am free
to do as I please,” she went on. “My
guardian has no right to dictate any
longer.”
“Hum 1” said Dr. Melton, passing his
hand over his beard. “And you are from
Philadelphia, too?” he added, turning
to Mr. Dunbar.
“I am,” was the curt response.
“Your name sounds familiar,” said
the parson. "Could I have seen it the
other day in a list of passengers for
Europe ?”
He scanned the faces before him.
The man’s jaws clicked, the girl’s flush
deepened into crimson.
“We are free to marry,” said Mr.
Dunbar. “There is no reason why we
should not be man and wife. If you
won’t perform the ceremony, I shall
find some one who is willing. Wo have
with us my uncle and aunt; but there is
no use in wasting words. Will you
marry us?"
"Yes,” said the parson. Then he
asked a few formal questions, and mar
ried them according to the ritual of the
Dutch Church. He begged them to be
seated for a minute, while he filled out
the certificate. This made it necessary
for him to return to the study.
“A runnaway country couple?” said
Mr. Leigh.
“I can’t swear to the country part,”
the parson answered, as he drew a certi
ficate out of his desk.
"I wonder you are willing to perform
the ceremony,” Mr. Leigh remarked.
"1 should think 'it was a great risk to
marry runaway couples.”
“The risk is greater without it,” said
the person. “If I don’t tie the knot
someliody else will, and it is generally
a satisfaction to one to know that the
knot is tied. In this case, however, J
am quite sure lam doing right. Loyou
believe in physiognomy ?”
“To a certain extent, yes."
“Well, so do I, and I am confident
that 1 have just married a sweet girl to
• man who is worthy of her.”
He went back to the parlor with the
certificate, taking pen and ink, so tha
the witnesses might sign their names.
Mr. Dun bur shook him by the hand,
leaving u note in his palm. The bride
smiled shyly upon him, and the elderly
woman bowed; but the elderly man,
who so far had not spoken a word, said,
suddenly, “I tell you, sir, that you will
never regret having helped this mar
riage.”
"I don’t believe I could have help d
it,” said the parson, with a droll glance
at the new-made husband. “I might
have been the means of deferring it, but
Mr. Dunbar intends to take his wife to
Europe in spite of n dozen tyrannical
guardians and dozen more reluctant
clergymen.—God bless you and make
you happy 1” he added, taking the young
wife’s hand.
Her eyes filled with tours, but hei
husband drew her hand through his arm
and led her away.
Two carriages were waiting outside.
One went to the north, the other to the
south; but the parson watched the one
that went to the south, for in that sat a
man and woman whom he believed he
had made happy for life, so far as wedded
bliss brings happiness.
Ho returned to the study, gave the
wedding fee to his daughter, who bore it
off in triumph to her mother, and then
be refilled his pipe.
* ‘Does this sort of thing happen often?”
I said Mr. Leigh.
“Not precisely this sort of thing. The
bride and groom were not girl and boy;
neither did they lielong to what you
would call the common class. By-the
way, it was a I’hiladolphia’party, a Wil
liam Dunbar—”
Mr. Leigh started from tho chair
“ DunbarJ” he repeated. “ And the ,
girl?”
“ Kate Perry—Katherine, rather.”
Mr Leigh stared at him vacantly. “My
ward I” he cried, in sudden anger. “And
after all I told you 1 Why didn’t yon
•all me in there ?”
“ How was I to know that?” said Dr.
Melton. “ You never mentioned the
name of your ward or lover. You simply 1
ealled him the hardware man.”
Mr. Leigh walked out of the library,
took his hat and stick, struggled into
his overcoat, and left the house without j
vouchsafing another word to his host.
The parson showed him out, and looked
at him walking swiftly down the moon
lit street. When he went to his study
again he bail by no means the craven
air of a man who has done a dastardly
deed. On the contrary, he laughed out
right as he sat down at his desk, where
on lay the notes of his sermon.—Har
per's Weekly.
Bible Chronology.
Jne of the standing difficulties of
Bible chronology has been cleared up
in a very remarkable manner. Amid }
the ruins of the Chaldean Record Office,
which formed part of the Temple, a
number of tablets were found. On ex
amination it was discovered that they
were the contracts of a mercantile firm
extending over generations. It was
found that every document was dated
and bore the month, year and day of the
reigning sovereign. By this strange
order of destiny a complete chronology
has been formulated of the kings from
Nebuchadnezzar to Darius Hydaspes,
hitherto a most perplexing period to
Biblical critics.
No Price.— The divorce market in j
Indianapolis is thus summarized by a
local journal: “Brisk competition
among our local lawyers has brought
down the prices of divorces. We quote:
Common separation, sls; small alimony,
$25; large alimony, SSO to SIOO, accord
ng to circumstances.”
FOR SUNDAY READING.
A LKSSON FOR THE MUNDAY SCHOOL
“Obedience.”—KplioMiiWß; vl., I—l 3.
Paul wrote a great deal of “doctrine”
in his epistles, but he also makes his let
ters very “practical.” Men will hardly
live the right lives unless they are in
structed in theological truth and made
to understand their relations to God,
out of which their duties flow. On the
other hand, theological beliefs are good
for nothing, except they influence every
day life. A theology which bears no
fruit in better acts is a barren tree.
Obedience “in the Lord” ir tn obe
dience which comes from the rule of the
spirit of the Lord in the heart. The
spirit of Christ in the breast will beget
filial obedience. On the other hand, it
will, of course, insure obedience only to
such commands as are “in the Lord” or
consonant with religious duty. When a
parent commands something directly
contrary to what the Lord commands,
the spirit of the Lord will prompt a re
fusal to comply with the evil command.
The spirit of the Lord will impel us to
obey Christ first, parents next. Again
to obey parents who are “in the
Lord”—i. e., Christian parents—is pe
culiarly a duty; for their commands
must be supposed to be good and ben
eficial.
The command to honor parents is ex
alted by having a promise attached to it.
By a promise for obedience, or a threat
ening for the disobedient, an injunction
is emphasized. The sanction of a re
ward and penalty shows that God is
especially desirous that the command
shall bo obeyed.
On the other hand, parents must have
duo regard for their children. Children
have rights; and, unless parents regard
the rights of children, it may be difficult
to lead the children to perform their
duty toward their parents. If parents
speak to children in anger, the chil
dren will bo prompted to have angry
feelings in return. The discipline and
admonition given by parents must be
given in tho spirit of the Lord, if it is
expected that tho children will receive
it in that spirit. Only as our admoni
tions are administered in the right
spirit can we expect that they will be
received in the right spirit.
The “servants” addressed were slaves,
and their condition was, in some re
spects, worse than the slavery which
formerly disgraced our land. Many of
them were captives in war, or had been
sold for debt, and, being persons of re
finement, could feel deeply the sadness
of their condition, while the law gave
them no protection whatever, but a cruel
master could even put them to death.
The injunction of obedience does not
imply that their slavery was just; for a
mother, writing to her son in prison,
though she believed him perfectly inno
cent and his imprisonment entirely un
just, might counsel him to obey the
rules cf the prison, to do submissively
the hard tasks assigned him, and to
treat respectfully the most abusive of
his keepers. The apostle deals with
slavery simply as a fact, saying nothing
os to its rightfulness.
But he takes away the darkness of
their wretched condition by reminding
them that their service to an earthly
master may be service to Jesus. As he
says in the parallel passage in Colos
sians iii. 24: “Ye serve the Lord Christ.”
The faithful servant of a heathen official
might secure an apostle’s release from
prison, and thus secure for the Gospel
s wider extension. By cheerful endur
ance of oppression, he might show to a
cruel master that there was a reality in
religion, and so win that master and
others to Christ. The circumstances of
his bondage might enable a disciple to
do a work for Christ which no other one
could do. So he could bear his slavery
for Christ’s sake, and could even rejoice
in the hard lot which enabled him to do
a work for the one who had redeemed
him. The revelation that service to an
earthly master is service to Christ, gives
an entirely different character to that
bondage. The slave is emancipated, not
by breaking his chain, but by enabling
him to wear the chain joyfully.
The principle laid down is one of gen
eral application. Nearly every person
has much heavy labor and dreary toil to
perform. The factory laborer, the
burdened housekeeper, the school
teacher, and even the well-to-do busi
ness man is bound down to a daily
routine which often becomes burden
some and tedious. But, in whatever
position we are placed, we can do some
thing for Christ; nay, each position gives
opportunity to do something for him
which could not be done under any other
jircumstances. Therefore, we may
thank God that he has placed ns in these
circumstances; for, bad as they are in
themselves, they are glorious in the op
portunities they furnish us to do work
for Christ.
The “finally” has the sense of, “for
the rest”— i. e., to lay down a rule which
will cover any case which may arise.
He who is “strong in the Lord,” girded
. with the Saviour's mighty power, .s
i ready for anything which may come.
The Christian life is rightly termed a
warfare, and the enemies are not the less
. to be feared because they are not pal
pable. The price of spiritual liberty is
■ eternal vigilance against evil passions
and powers of sin.
NO. 21.
MODELS FOR BLACK SILK DRESSES.
Some of <ho New Styles that are to be Worn
thia Spring,
A handsome dress that will serve as a
model for other black silk dresses is of
black Sicilienne, with the front and side
breadths falling quite plain, like panels,
while on each side is a deep pleated fan
with narrow jetted gallons run on the
edge of each pleat; wider galloon bor.
ders the panels. Above this is a short
crossed drapery of the Sicilienne, while
the back hangs long and straight to the
foot The basque is pointed, short, and
without pleats; a V of the wide gallons
trims it in front and back, and a large
bow with sash ends falls on the tournure,
being set on the back just below the
waist line. A more elegant black dress
is of Bengaline, with velvet for the vest,
and a single deep fall of black bison lace
gathered under the short front and side
drapery, and covering the foundation
skirt Tho basque has a narrow vest,
all in one piece of velvet, with a row of
jet buttons each side, and laced across
with silk cord. The high collar has vel
vet in front of it the width of the top of
the vest, and the velvet cuff has lace
laid in folds above it The Bengaline
drapery is a twisted scarf above the
deep lace fall in front, while the back is
in two pointed wings that have three
wide pleated flounces between. Other
black drosses combine watered silk with
a Bengaline over-dress, using it for the
front of the skirt entirely, or else with
merely a front and back breadth. For
summer there are very pretty dresses
of black surah, with a fan apron edged
with wide lace, and some ruffles of lace
or of surah at the foot, or else the skirt
and over-skirt are made of strips of
satin and moire, while the basque is of
plain surah; the latter Is an economical
dress, as it does not require lace for
trimming. Very rich black dresses for
summer are made of China crape em
broidered or brocaded for the skirt,
while the over-dress is made of lace,
either entirely of piece lace or else of
lace flounces formed into lengthwise
stripes that alternate with bands of plain
crape or of watered silk. These crape
and lace dresses take the place of the
brocaded grenadines formerly used,
while beaded grenadine is now employed
as parts of combination black dresses.
The beaded grenedine basque and front
breadths are preferred to the velvet
figured grenedines of last year, and these
dresses usually have a mantle of the
same to go with them.
Thought He Was Wanted.
A practiced detective can frequently
discern at a glance that a man is a
rogue. The stamp of dishonesty on his
features, or his anxiety on being ob
served, tells the story. A remarkable
illustration of this fact was narrated by
the Boston correspondent of the Hing
ham Journal a year [or two ago. The
detective was Constable Derastns Clapp,
the successor of “Old Reed,” a famous
rogue-catcher of Boston half a century
ago, who was for forty years the terror
of evil-doers in aud about the New Eng
land metropolis.
Clapp was a shrewd man and a most
excellent judge of human nature. He
could tell a rogue as far off as he could
tell a black man, and he never made
mistakes. His “come along with me”
was imperative and admitted of no argu
ment.
An instance of his readiness in read
ing character occurred one morning in
the upper criminal court A case of
considerable interest was being tried,
and the gallery was crowded with spec
tators.
Two or three reporters were sitting
near the door, when Clapp stooping over,
whispered:
“Don’t all look at once, but please
observe that nice-looking man with the
white cravat, in the front middle seat
of the gallery.
We looked. “Now,” says Clapp, “I’ll
bet that I can sot that man traveling out
of the court house on the double-quick
in less than five minutes nor will I leave
the room or send him any message, ”
While we were wondering how the
feat was to be accomplished, the veteran
quietly beckoned to Officer Tallant,
and taking a pair of handcuffs from his
pocket, directed that officer’s attention
to the party in the gallery, and appar
ently gave him some directions.
Tallant opened the door and stepped,
into the entry, and at the same instant
the gentleman with the white cravat
bolted like lightning through the crowd
to the door, and disappeared.
“Gentleman,” remarked Clapp, “I
never saw that man before in my life.
It illustrates the scriptural saying. ‘The
wicked flee when no man pureueth.7’
The annual report of tho Ohio Ag i
cultural Experiment Station urges Lie
preservation and maintenance of foresis,
and says this concerning woodlands:
“The first step should be to remove all
worthless varieties, and to encourage
the valuable sorts to take their place.
Stock should not be allowed to run in
wood lots for purpose of forage; there
should be a careful guard against fire:
seeds should be planted in vacant places
1 of such varieties as are most desirable;
1 shoots of inferior varieties should be
kept down, aud valuable sorts should
be trimmed up, so that they may grow
1 tall, forming trunk rather t-tan
■ branches. ”
JOKES FOUNDV'I
hi Honors n(>
< OI.C.HNH of wg
A Trnmp who I'
1 {ll ww h
»> okc,
EATING GBASS.
It was one oi'those 1, cold nights
that the oldest settler a! waj members
and insists on bringing u, v._ien any
thing is said about the esb- " mer
cury to hide itself in th.: '■ ' "’.?_! the
wind whistled an ai: from V ;ae as it
tore through the trees. Yet out the
cold night, before a cottage do r, -'food
a trembling figure. He softly knocked,
and in a moment the door wae opened ,
and a kind face appeared, while a ger.is
woman’s voice asked: “What is i-t, ihy
poor man?” “Madam,” said thefigure,
“all I ask is to brush away the snow
here in front of the house and eat sonje
of the grass.” “No, my poor man;"
answered the gentle voice. “Though I
am a woman I still heve a b-» Jt. Do
not eat that grass. Go ron? |to tho
back of the cottage and you will ,ti d
some that is much more nourishing. ”
And the kind form disappeared, th
door was closed and the wind whWio. *'
another Wagnerian air,— Boston Rost.
THE NEW BOARD OF TRADE.
“Oh, papa,” said the broker’s lift'
daughter, as they walked to the Lake
Shore Depot, “what a splendid building
that is—that one with the clock in the
steeple and the ship on top and the
stained glass windows, I mean. What
church is it ?”
“That isn’t a church.”
“Is it a Sunday school room?”
“No, not exactly, my dear, though I
believe the precious little lambs are
sometimes taken in there.”— Chicago
Herald.
A RUSSIAN WAS KONO.
Wo'ro coming, Alexandrovitch, at leant a mil
lion more,
Krom Kauini'»haeja’s bay and Obskalagouba’s
shore.
From Karakouskie’s frozen wild Goin Tym?-
kala’a plain,
Wo’ro marching Alexander, with all our in ght
and main.
From Gatmonackino’s forest, from Tseherbor
beakoi's vale,
From Wa-aian' ili b-kak
Ohnirkia’s dale.
Fr . .i i Iv.i.amap >•>'- '
\V, .. . "linn" I'o’.
lib'.
Fri i.: p
Fi i -b "i. " I" O'fc
your cons
Wr ro on to 1:,.|
Al: 1 W. '|:' IniUlV. '
nanu s no toBB
From pn ■■■
the i vu
I.ook liko a heap ■ f
We-arolowa and oft-aWoa, offs end '
vltchoa,
For Holy Church and Fiona C«ar wifi die in
Herat's ditches.
AN ASSENTING WITNESS.
Justice (colored)—“When I said dat
de man wasn’t straight what did you
say ?”
Witness—“l said dat’s so.”
Justice—“ And when I said dat de
man was crocked what did you say ?”
Witness—“l said dat’s so.”
Justice—“ And when I said dat de
man wasn’t upright what did you say ?”
Witness—“l said dat’s so.”
Justice—“ And now you swear you
didn’t say de man wasn’t honest ?”
Witness—No more I did. I fought
you referred to de rumatics de man
had.”—JVetn York Advertiser.
THE LAWYER'S JOKE.
An Augusta (Me.) lawyer relates this
story of Henry W. Paine: He was pro
secuting attorney in a criminal case.
The evidence plainly showed that the
respondent was guilty, and the defence
admitted it. The respondent’s counsel
asked for a verdict of not guilty on the
ground that the defendant was non
compos mentis. Greatly to the surprise
of Paine—and everybody else, for that
matter —the jury came in with a verdict
of not guilty. Paine on the instant
turned to the presiding judge and said:
“ Yonr Honor, the prisoner evidently
has been tried by a jury of his peers.”
A OOMING EVENT
Wife—Old Mrs. Bentley told me con
fidentially this morning that she ex
pected shortly to become a grandmother.
Husband (abseut-minded)— Is it pos
sible 1 That old woman. — Hew,Orleans
Times.
GREATEST KIND OF AN INSULT.
Alice—“lsn’t that queer? This book
of travels says the worst insult that <»n
be offered to a Russian maiden is to
spread tar on the front gate <■* h «r resi
dence.”
Maud—“l should thi»> * would bean
insult.”
“But why? Oh, you mean it is a
personal reflection. ”
“No; it probably means that she can t
get a beau, and has no use for the front
gate. ” RKHadelphia Call.
HE WAS OFF-
“ There’s one thing nobody can ever
y about me,” said a fish dealer.
“ They never can say that I was ever
anything but generous.”
“You’re off your base,” replied his
cuatomer. '
“ What makes you say that ?”
“Wliy, because your very business
makes yon sell fish.”— Boston Times.
inns buss the wobld away.
IT irsa to fashionable mother—Tho
baby is very restless, ma’am. I can’t
do anything with her.
F. M.—She’s teething, I suppose?
N.—Yes’m. I think was to
take her in your it
:at
so