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CLIPPINGS FOR THE CURIOUS. . In days gone by clouds floating be fore the wind like a reck or vapor were termed recking clouds. The first steamship that crossed the ocean brought in her mail a pamphlet proving that no steamship could do this. The eyes of the mole are so exceed ingly minute and so perfectly hid in its hair that our ancestors considered it blind. The divining rod, sometimes used by well diggers, and at an early day by oil prospectors, is a popular fiction that dates back to the eleventh cen tury. Connecticut is now the only state in the Union, it is said, whose legisla ture retains judicial functions. The Connecticut legislature is still a su preme court in equity. Bees are peculiarly subject to dysen tery, a disease which sometimes al most decimates a hive, and which is commonly due to detective ventilation and a thin quality of the winter food. It takes ten times as long to commit to memory eighty meaningless sylla bles as it does to master eighty sylla bles that mean something. A profes sor of the University of Berlin de voted twenty-two consecutive hours to the mental labor of proving this fact. Speaking of the feeling while on a mountain or abyss of being drawn to wards the brink, the London Lancet Bays, it is an impulse to fly. It is an abnormal development of the subordi nate faculty of flight which man pos sesses in common with, and actually derives from, the bird. Mary is the name most common among men in France, where, as in Italy, the custom prevails of giving the Virgin’s name to a boy, in con junction with a distinctively male appellation. Thus Hugo was Victor Marie. After Mary come in order of frequency Louis, Joseph, Charles, Hen ry, John, Francis, Peter, Paul, Julius, Maurice, Anthony, Eugene, Leo, Vic tor, Augustus, Edward, Ernest, and George. The Kentucky Mountaineers. These mountaineers, says a Ken tucky let er to the New York Times, are a singular people. They have not the slightest idea of law and order as it is understood and practised in oth er portions of the country. Every in dividual resents an injury with knife, pistol or gun, provided he has the req uisite courage to do so, or, if not, waylays and shoots down his enemy whenever he can be caught off his guard. They are densely ignorant, and are utterly unable to avail them selves of the process of the law. Their poverty and illiteracy is pitiable in the extreme; they know nothing whatev er of the hab.ts of the ePVilized world, _ and many have never been beyond the ” confines of their own counties. Their houses are made of logs and and in some sections the sight of a pane of glass would cause a sensation. The virtues they possess are purely primitive, suggesting the savage in many respects. They are strictly hon est; they do not steal; outrages are un common. With such a condition of things surrounding them it is an easy matter for a few bold, resolute, but reckless men to dominate a whole country. Those who are not killed die from disease peculiar to people who do not comprehend that cleanli ne„> is next to godliness. The term “husband” or "wife” is never heard. It is “my man" or “my woman.” Nine-tenths of these mountaineers were in the Union army, and fought witli a courage and fierceness that swept everything before them. The country where they live abounds in the richest of fine forests, full of walnut, white pine, poplar, oak, hemlock, and other desirable tim ber. Their hills are full of the finest cart-wheel iron known to the world, and the coal lands are pronounced by Prof. Shaler, of Harvard college, to be superior to any in America. A depos it of cannel coal in Breathitt, Letcher and Harlan counties is pronounced the finest in the world. When rail roads are built thrcugh these moun tains civilization will reach the pres ent inhabitants, and the example of thrift and consequent profits will, no doubt, play its full part in inspiring a desire to indulge in habits of industry. Until then there is little chance of their improvement. Almost a Personal Allusion. A fat old man was spread out over four seats on a Texan train. Ar a small station a tall lady, wearing a sunbonnet, entered the ear. The old fat man pretended that he did not see her, but a gentleman just behind the fat man who took up so much room politely removed his gripsack, and she sat down thanking him for his atten tion. Shedidnot say anything for a minute or so. Then sire snapped her eyes and remarked to the gentleman who had given her the seat, at the same time glancing in the direction of the corpulent old gentleman: • “You can’t rely on what you read in the farm journals nowadays.” "Are they so unreliable?” “Yes,” she replied, glancing over her shoulder at the old tat man. "I read in one of them th» other day that the average age of a bog is only fifteen years.” The old gentleman grunted.- -Teaa-; Siftings. QNijrttc. VOL. XII. EMMONS McKEE & CO., 87 BROAD STREET, ROME, G-A.., Are Acknowledged Headquarters in North Georgia For CLOTHING, FURNISHING GOODS, HATS AND MEN S FINE SHOES. f VAT E , have ex tensive preparations for a rousing business during the coming season, and we have taken every precaution to fortify ourselves against disap- 1 J ’ V poinimeut. Our new stock is all that could be de-i red in style, quality and price, and, if extra inducements are a consideration, our store will be the most F ( attractive place iu this country for those who want the best for the least money. J FALL TRADE IS WHAT WE WANT! And no stone has been left Unturned, no opportunity has been Neglected, no pains and expense has been Spared to Secure REMEMBER; We sell only goods worn by the MALE SEX-Clothing, Furnishing Goods, Hats, and Men’s Fine Shoes—wo can fit you out from head to feet, and hope every reader of this paper will give us a call. We are always glad to show goods, and think our attractive display cannot fail to please you. EMMONS McKEE Sc CO., Men’s and Boys’ Outfitters, 87 BBOAD STREET, ROME, GA. A sudden frost! we bear the gardener say, As tenderly he bears the vine away That yesterday was all the garden’s pride; And other flowers that bloomed the vine be side Stand in their glowing beauty all unharmed vs if the lusty life they bore were charmed. We echo, with regret for treasures lost, “A sudden frost!” In life's fair gardens there are treasured vines Upon whose tendrils delicate there shines Tl.e light of God’s dear presence day by day, Until we come, with hearts assured, to say, These are the darlings whom we fondly cher ish There can no harm come nigh, they cannot perish; When presently there falls some vine acrost, Death’s sudden frost. —Abbie F. Judd, in the Current. A TRAIN IN THE DESERT. Years since, I was, as a child, one of a party that, met with sore distress in northern Mexico. Our train, comprising twenty-one souls, was sent over a false trail into a desert region. The springs reported as being along the way were not; the few existing water holes were all, save one, dried up, and when we camped, after traveling four nights and the cooler part of as many days, it was where a brazen sky looked down upon a parched land that held no sign of animal habitation, save one gaunt panther, which the men scouting for water found dead, half a league from the road. hi all the desolate plain, stretching miles away to iron bound mountain ranges on ei’her hand, there was no break save a few shriveled bushes, and the windlass of swell, a few rods from the roadside. The projector of the road had assured our leader of finding here a well of water, pure and never failing. It now contained perhaps ten feet of water, salt as the sea, and impregnated with some acrid mineral element. The stock was uow too much exhausted to drag the heavy wagons further. Every drop of water was gone from our kegs and can teens. A hurried council was held, and our one possible plan cf eseape arranged. My uncle and another young man selected the two least jaded mules, tightened their belts about them, and, with bid ets in their mouths to chew to stimulate the salivary glands, they started at night fall upon the back track, in a desperate attempt to drive the stock to water, and bring us relief. My father, who had some little skill as an amateur chemist, improvised from the camp equipage and utensi s a still— afterward a second one. Fortunately we had a pair of camp stoves, and by distilling the salt water with th s im perfect apparatus, nineteen lives were preserved. Three men and five women stood in watches of two at the still, two hours at a turn. The little camp stoves were kept red hot, and drop, drop, drop, the priceless water fell slowly—so frightfully slowly;—into the cups. Our rations were two teaspoonfuls every two hours. Os course, cooking was out of the question, nor could our dry and stiffened mouths bear even such food as was available from the stores. The first day the attempt was made to prepare coffee with the salt water, but the experiment was not repeated for the reason that one Mrs. B.—the sixth woman of the party had persisted in drinking the clear, cool-looking water, and she be came insane almost immediately. Her seven children, forlorn little creatures as they were, had all the attention pos sible, and bore their sufferings with touching patience. I will not dwell on the five days suc ceeding the departure of the young men. To thia day—even as I write—l fall into a nervous chill at thought of our extremity. There was the baking sand, the glaring sky, the triumphant, mock ing sun ; the little, lonely camp, with its added degrees of heat from the glowing stoves; the feverish faces and tremb ling forms, stretched about beneath the wagons, wherever a spot of shade blessed the earth. The horses, that had been too far spent to drive back, lay dead before us, none having strength to drag them away, and a splendid New foundland dog moaned out his life in accompaniment to the insane woman's yells. Misery in every moment, and agonies of suspense for the fate of our two gallant boys. Had they ridden safely to their succor and ours, or were they lying, swollen, ghastly, stark shapes, in some loue defile of the mountains we had come through? Then —the fifth day the salt water gave out! That night the ration was reduced one half, the stills being supplied by wring ing semi-liquid mud in a strainer of linen. While two ladies were tending the still, Thompson, the driver of our family traveling coach, came to them and with threats compelled them to give up to him more than a half pint of dis tilled water. They complied, to avoid SUMMERVILLE, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY EVENING, DECEMBER 2, 1885. wakening to collision the two gentlemen who were to take the next turn, but one whole ration was thus sacrificed to one person. The ordeal passed. On the sixth morning one of our res cuers came in camp, bowed and stagger ing under the weight of a monstrous Mexican gourd that he had strapped upon his shoulders, to forestall the slow moving ox-carts, laden with water-bar rels, followed farther back. The young men, spurred by the thought of loved ones dying behind them, had pushel the stock to their utmost efforts, and had reached C'ienegas in some eighteen or twenty hours. Not a moment had been wasted in organizing the relief party; and here came rumbling, groaning, creak ing into camp the great carretas, with wheels of solid wood, and fastenings of rawhide thongs, driven by swart team sters, rough and ferocious of aspect, who nevertheless wept like children at the sight of the wretched, wasted beings who hailed them with black, swollen lips and tongues all cracked and bleed ing. They were but just in time. The insane woman and two of her children appeared then dying, and surely could not have lived a half day longer. Water was doled out with due precaution, congratulations and thanks givings offered; a hasty but sufficient breakfast was cooked, and all prepara tion made for abandoning the scene of so much wretchedness. Then very nearly came about a miser able mishap. Thompson, the driver be fore mentioned—a tall, lank fellow— had gotten, by purchase, cajolery, or ap propriation, a bottle of aguardiente from one of the Mexican drivers, and before any one new of it, Thompson was up roariously, boisterously,abusively drunk. The occasion was one to warrant more than usual lenience, and much forbear ance was displayed toward the man. Finally, however, he came to where the women and children sat awaiting the start, and insolently ordered a lady to prepare a fresh breakfast for him. My father came to us, and tried to lead him away, when Thompson sprang upon him and hurled him backward to the very brink of the salt well, some fifty feet deep. Thompson was more than six feet tall; my father below the average height of men: but the smaller man held his own, and was even forcing his antagon ist away from the well, when Thompson reached to his hip and drew his cocked revolver. The women screamed, the men came running—but from too far away. I do not remember thinking the matter out; I fancy my legs acted in advance of my juvenile br iin; but it appeared a moment for decisive action, and 1 dashed forward, wrested the pistol from the drunken grasp, and was back again with the weapon tuck <1 under the buf falo-robe 1 sat upon, before the foremost man reached the struggling pdr. 1 rode Into Cienegas with that pistol be neath the cushion of my seat in the coach; I presume that it was ultimately returned to Thompson. That wo-thy was unceremoniously bundled into one of the carretas. Prior to that time Thompson had been tem perate while in our employ; but that one lapse seemed to break down his self control. He drank hard, and his con duct became so intolerable that he was discharged at Durango. He hung about the old plateau city for several weeks, insisting upon re employment, and being refused, he vowed, with savage impreca tions, to wreak his vengeance upon my father by means of his family. Much as we shrank from his uncouth roughness, we ch Idren hid been much impressed by the quaint turns of Thompson’s speech, and many of his picturesque idioms are household words in our ma turer years. I know a man whom I seem to see always ; n a two fold character. He is handsome, of rare social gifts, com posed, accomplished, debonair, ver satile: a dawdler on silken cushions, the idol of women, and given to pos ing—lazily—as a squire of dames. I happen to have trodden, at a later day, the ground of his lawless youth, and I can but smile at thought of the con sternation among the fair if they knew the record of his life as I know it. Watching his languid repose in correct parlor precincts, or sardonically contem plating the eagerness of his reception in a gay party of dancers, I picture him in my fancy as the hero of a certain mad ride out of San Antonio de Bexar, be fore a crowd who clamored for his life; I seem to see him in the street of a fron tier town, facing a score of men, with three corpses, lifeless through his hand, lying at his feet; I remember what his whilom comrade told me of this man’s coolness and desperate courage, as he knelt all one long summer day, loading and firing across his brother’s body— one ot the little group besieged by In dians on the Staked Plains. But I keep his counsel. Even the urgency of two women—his mother an 1 she who owns his allegiance—has w.-oung from me no account of his life in landsunquiet. For a while his eyes gleamed strong distrust of my discretion, but at last my reticence won his confluence and faith. We were driving one day across the wide, bare plains in one of our southern countries, when, in answer to some satirical pre diction of spinsterhood in penance for my whims, I said : “Pray, don’t say that; you ‘disen courage’ me.” i A shadow drifted across his face; his voice was several tones lower when he said: “Do you mind telling me where you found that word. You use it often, but I never heard it from another person save i one.” ‘‘Nor I. And I assure you I use it in bravado largely, for with every utter of the word 1 feel the shadow of a dark cloud of fear that has hung over me for years.” He turned to look at me. “You afraid! Os what! You handle mice, and dead snakes, and a gun as , readily as I do. What else, tjieu, does a woman fear!” “No, but indeed I meant it. I am miserably—abjectly—afraid of one man ” And then I told him, briefly and sketch ily, of our adventure at the salt well, I and my subsequent, ever present terror of the man Thompson. When I had ! finished, he looked absently at tho dis | tant mountains, with a strained look in i his blue eyes, and his face, for all the l heat, was pallid. “Do you remember your driver’s given name!’’ “1 think—yes, Al. “Tall, you say—‘slabsided,’ with a ' crease down the point of his uose. Any I peculiarity of gait <” “He leaned upon his left foot; and ho had a fashion of hitching up his trousers, sailorwise.” | -‘I hope never to recall that scene, in J words,” said the man at my side; “but you are a loyal woman, and I would do much to dispel that haunting fear. 1 know what horror it must be to one like i you. Well, you need fear no harm iu ; future from Al Thompson; he is dead.” >1 “Dead! I can hardly believe it. Did you see him die!” “I saw him die. Do you remember that I passed through Los Angeles in ’<4 —the lime I called you out of school to go to the races with me! Well, I had just brought a big bunch of cattle up from Tex us, and Al Thompson was one of my herders. He was ugly, naturally, and, as you know, drink warmed up the murderous instinct. Several of the boys had told me Thompson had struck them to put me out of the way and run otf the herd; but they were all good men. Twice on the trip a stray bullet had sung past my ears. Still, I had no proof vVo camped three miles out of Seven Rivers. Thompson went into the town. He got drunk enough to want blood. I was sit ting in front of the tent when he rode up and began shooting. He got in three shots from his revolver before I could get my hands free from a whip-lash I was braiding. Then I caught up my Win chester, and fired with my left hand, just as his fourth shot knocked off my hat. He would have killed me if he had been less drunk, for he was the best shot 1 ever saw, and not forty feet away. My bullet struck him here.” He threw back his splendid bead, and touched one lin j ger to his own white throat. “We buried him there, under the mesquites. I am glad to ease your mind.— T. 11. ; Addis, in the Aryonnut. Handkerchiefs. A handkerchief was the square of fine l linen formerly employed by women to cover the bead, but more recently used in the hand, and not as a covering only The term handkerchief is not met with earlier than in the fifteenth century, when in the “Wardrobe Accounts of ■ Edward IV.” we find ‘“V dozen hand ! couverchieffes” arenatneda j having been made by one Alice shapster, to whom a payment had been mid •. Modern hand- I kerchiefs are to be had of different di mentions, those for women being smaller I than those for men. They are produced ; in silk, both Chinese and Indian, as well ’ as in English; of cambric, cotton and muslin; some designed for the pocket and others for the neck. I Some of the Indian silk ones are in self colors, others have patterns upon them and are necessarily of two colors. These are known as bandana handker chiefs Cambric, muslin, cotton and gingham handkerchiefs are to be had with hemstitch or ribbon borders, and I some are more or le s embroidered; oth i ers have black or colored borders in va rious designs. Bales of colored cotton handkerchiefs are manfactured in this country in Oriental colors and designs, so prepared to suit the native taste for the Indian ex i I port trade. Trimmings of lace applied I to handkerchiefs first came into fashion in the reign of Queen Elizabeth.—Dor cas Magazine. ' A creditor in Mexico can have a debt -1 or arrested on the day the debt falls due. The prisoner is chained to a post 1 five days, guarded by an officer. At the " I end of the time, if the money is not forthcoming, the man’s labor is sold to ' the government at forty cents a day foi : ; as m iny days as will be necessary to dis > ' charge the obligation. I NTHE FIRELIGHT. The Are upon the hearth is low. And there is stillness everywhere; Like troubled spirits, here and there Tho firelight shadows fluttering go. And as the shadows round me creep, A childish treble breaks the gloom, And softly from a further room Conies: “Now 1 lay me me down to sleeps * And, somehow, with that little prayer And that sweet treble in my ears, My thoughts go back to distant years And lingers with a dear one there; And as I hear the child’s anion, My mother’s faith comes back to tome: Crouched at her side I seem to be, And mother holds my hands again. Oh, for an hour in that dear place— Oh, for tho peace of that dear time, Oh, for that childish trust sublime, Oh, for a glimpse of mother’s face! Yet, as the shadows round me creep, I do not seem to be alone— Sweet magic of that treble tone And "Now 1 lay mo down to sleep.” —Eugene Fiela. HUMOR OF THE DAY. A coat of paint has no buttons on it. --Carl Pretzel. A telephone office should be located in a “holler” square. Boston Bulletin. The cup that doesn’t cheer or inebri ate, but sometimes rouses suspician—the liic-cu p. Subterranean Planters designate cre mation as a burning shame.—J/crAiaJ- Traveter. Some people are willing to be good if they are well paid for it. Others are good for nothings*— San Francisco Ex aminer* A petrified mule has-been found in Pennsylvania. TIHs surprfSes us. We had no idea a mule could.,keep,.its hoofs still long enough for tliat.'y Ciutjm'r. The t oucord ..Monitor, .lias an iui.fclq.on “I he Pear Blight.” Tfiq t'. M. r us,,be., hind time. The j air blight d lies back to the fall of man.'— .Bnlmi T. dii-.r.,pl'.‘ * A swarm of'lieiss- invaded a Maryland church on a recent Sunday, and the pas tor had to admit, with tears in his eyes, no congregation was ever so moved by his very best sermon.— Boston Transcript, When a woman goes hor-eback riding she wears a silk plug hat. She doeStbat so the horse will believe she’s a man and won t become frightened at Her. She couldn’t fool a Kentucky mule that way. —Kentucky State Journal. “Why is an apple pie,” Slid Fogg, eyeing the remarkably flat specimen be fore him, “like a spring!” Nobody ven tured an answer, and Fogg was forced to break the painful silence by explain ing that it could not rise above its sauce. —Boston Transcript. “I was never exactly buried alive,” said an old clerk, recounting his experi ence, “but 1 once worked a week in a store that did not advertise. When I came out my head was almost as white ns you now see it. Solitary confinement did it.”— Boston Beacon. a chubCh belle. She wears a sweet smile As she glides up the aisle .Villi the grace of a rythmical sonnet And oh! she looks cute In her nobby new suit And that dear little duck of a bonnet —Neic York Journal. it. writer in the Scientific American says a cyclone can be diverted from its course by exploding a keg of gunpowder under it. This solves the problem neatly. Os course when a man is blown into pieces by a powder explosion he has nothing to fear from a cyclone.—Aeis York Graphic. THE DISCONSOLATE MERCHANT. A merchant alone in desolate store Sang "Willow, tit-willow, tit-willow!” I said to him, “Why are you pacing the floor, Singing ‘Willow, tit-willow, tit willow’!” “Alas!” he replied as ho smothere 1 his cries, "I thought it was nonsense to advertise, Ami now I’ve no custom al all but the flies. Oh, willow, tit-willow, tit-willow:” —New York World. Brigands Annihilated. The Kavkas publishes the following account of the destruction of a band of brigands on the Persian frontier: During the night of August 13 a band of bris ands committed several acts of pillage in the district of Djebrai! near the bor ders of Persia. The celebrated brigand chief Taugri Verdy Allah Kuli Ogiy was at their head. They attempted to gain a place of shelter on Persian territory, but the frontier guards pursued them so closely that they were compelled to flee for safety to the desert encampment of Abdurrahman Bekly. The timely ar rival of a Cossack reinforcement enabled the authorities to surround this position, when it was attacked and carried by as sault. The chief was killed, with many of his followers, in the melee and ths survivors were captured. Thus it may be accurately said that the formidable banfl of Taugri Verdy Allah Kuli Oglj has been annihilated. — London Times. NO. 46. Making Pretzels. The ordinary reader undoubtedly knows something in a general way about the baker’s art, but in a cosmopolitan city there are about as many varieties of the staff of life as there are nationalities. The pretzel is peculiar to the German table, and perhaps the process of prepar ing it is less familiar in this country than that of any other article of food. Flour, yeast, water, and a great deal of salt are the sole ingredients of which the dough out of which the pretzel is evolved is composed. It is tough and heavy, and after having been well kneaded is placed in great heaps on a long table in front of the workmen. They grab it up by hand fuls, roll it out in long, thin strips, and then curl and tie it up into the queer shapes in which it makes its appearance in beer saloons and cheap lunch counters. A journeyman baker is expected to make one pretzel every two seconds. After it has assumed its definite form it is laid upon a wooden rack in the middle of the room. Hack after rack is thus tilled, and they are piled one above another. Each one contains 100 pretzels. A thousand are generally prepared for the oven be fore the baking begins. The ovens are of enormous size. The pretzels are baked very thoroughly, and are regarded as especially wholesome for this reason. Then comes the most singular part of the process. Racks, charged with pret zels, are dipped in a weak solution of lye, the effect of which is to give to their surface a bright and glossy appearance. After being thickly sprinkled with salt they are ready for sale. Those that are intended for shipment, or to be kept for s une time, undergo an additional pro cess. They are placed in a steam box, and remain there for two or three hours. This sort of cure makes them proof against, mold or souring for months. One of the greatest peculiarities of pret zels is their salty taste, and they conduce to the greater consumption of beer. But so much salt is used simply for the pur pose of preventing them from becoming stale. They are a favorite part of the rations of the Prussian army.— San Fran eisco Chronicle. The Chamber of Bad Humor. Krodhagnra is an odd-locking word. It is Hindoo, and has a meaning of par ticular interest to young people, who in India often hear it. In America, when a child is so very cross that he cannot get over his bad hu mor without help, his mother says to him, “Go into the corner, my dear, until you are in a better temper.” Sometimes she goes so far as to send him into the closet, or up into the garret. We have heard that in old times the cellar and the barn were occasionally designated as the place of exile. But in old times par ents were a little too severe. We should not object to the barn; but the cellar, where the potatoes and the coal are kef t, and where rats too frequently scamper and gnaw, is not calculated to restore any child to good humor. In the land of the Hindoos, who are a very amiable and gentle people, there is in many houses a room called the Krod hagara, or the Chamber of Bad Humor, which serves the purpose of the corner just referred to. “You had better go into the Krod hagara, my child,” observes the Hindoo mother, when little Toru is disturbed in mind, “and there remain until you feel as a blessed Hindoo child ought to feel.” This apartment serves a still more im portant use in the family, it sometimes happens to those far-off heathen lands, strange as it may seem to us in a land where every one is always amiable and good-tempered, that the mother herself is not in the best humor; sometimes the father is positively cross; sometimes a mother-in-law is less amiable than usual, and occasionally a grandparent does not enjoy the festive morn when the gruel is lumpy. In such cases the afflicted person goes, of his own accord, into the Krodhagaia, and stays there until he feels himself in benign accord with all mankind, and in particularly good humor with his own family. Youth's Companion. Habits of Eels. Any one standing early in June on the banks of the Delaware, or any stream communicating with the sea in which eels are caught, may see a large black streak moving up stream, near the shore Close examination will show that this strange object is made up of thousands upon thousands of living creatures, none of them larger than a milliner’s needle. They are young eels, which have been hatched in the mud at and below tide water, and which are on their way to their summer homes in the rivers and creeks that empty into it. By the time they reach the upper waters they have grown to a length of three or four inches, and when they run down in the fall they will be a foot long. The fact that eels •will travel around obstacles in streams by land to get to water above is also well established. They must have grassy or mossy ground to travel over, however, and it must be during or after a rain, or by night, while the grass is wet with dew. CHILDREN’S COLOBX. She dreams of times wh&>l she !s tall; She’ll have a carriage lor her doll; She’! V-Iv a tea-set and a ring; Twill be—the—dearest—little —thing. He dreams of times when he Is big He’ll have a ship with splendid rig; He’ll have a kite and "v’loa’pede” too; He’ll ride it —os the—big—boys—do. Youth’s Companion, A Happy Heart. My little boy came to me this morn* Ing with a broken toy, and begged I would mend it for him. It was a very handsome toy, and was the pride of his heart just then; sol did not wonder to see his lips quivering and the tears come into his eyes. “I’ll try to fix it, darling,” I said, “but I’m afraid I can’t do it.” He watched me anxiously a few moments, and then said cheerfully, “Never mind, mamma. If you can’t fix it I’ll be just as happy without it.” Wasn’t that a brave, sunshiny heart? And he made me think of a dear little girl, only three years old, whom I once saw bringing out her choicest play things to amuse a little homesick cousin. Among the rest was a little trunk, with bands of silk paper for straps—a very pretty toy; but careless little Freddie tipped the lid too far back and broke it off. He burst out with a cry of fright, but little Minnie, with her own eyes full of tears, said, “Never mind, Freddie, just see what a nice little cradle the top will make.” Keep a happy heart, little children, and you will be like sunbeams where ever you go.— Young Reaper. Our Good Fniry. “Mamma, did you ever see a real fairy?” questioned Maud, looking up from a book she was reading—“a real ene, with shining white wings?” “No, I never did, Maud, nor did any one else. Fairy stories are not true, you know; they are only written to amuse. But your question reminds me of something which happened when I was a little girl. It was one summer when your aunt Kate and I had been sent to the country to see our grandmother. Father and mother were to follow us in a few weeks. We loved to visit grandmother, for she lived on a farm which stood upon a river bank, and there were beautiful trees and woods along the bank. “Uncle Fred had given us a very pretty white kitten, and as we had never had a cat or pet of any kind, we were delighted. Uncle Fred had just come home from board-school, and we thought him wonderfully clever, and were delighted when he noticed us. One day he brought us a book of fairy stories, the first of the kind we had •ver seen. It was no wonder that our minds were excited by the wonderful tales, and that we pored over them night and day. One desire took pos session of us: we must see a fairy. “Accordingly, one afternoon, just after dinner, we crept away very stealthily for fear some one might call us back, and hastened to the woods. Once in the dense shade of the great trees and out of sound of farmyard, we became almost frightened. We hardly dare breathe. The sound of our own footsteps often made us start. We expected any moment to see a fairy or a dwarf. At length we be gan to be weary and a little discour aged. We thought we must have come at the wrong time, and so decided to turn back. Then we found, alas! we had lost our way. We were dread fully alarmed, for we knew it would soon begin to grow dark, and the idea of spending the night in the woods was terrifying, especially when we remem bered the stories we had been reading. “Suddenly we heard a strange noise just over our heads—a crackling of leaves—then a branch shook. Some thing was going to happen at last. We stood still, quite breathless. A little more rustling of leaves, and then out stepped a little snow-white creature and stood before us—not a real fairy, to be sure, but, far better, our own white kitten. ‘‘Oh, how we laughed as she sprang down! and then we laughed louder still when we saw that we had wan. dered all around the river bank and bad come back again to the farm by another way. Just beyond us stood the gate; only we had been too much bewildered to see it. “Pussy had evidently been out upon a journey also—not looking for fairies, but for birds—and we had met. As she had never had a name, we called her Fairy from that day. Grand mother laughed at us when we got home, and Uncle Fred said that if he had known we were such silly little girlies he would would never have put fairy stories in our hands to bother our heads.” It is very foolish to allow ourselves to be troubled by onr fancies and to be afraid of what does not exist—Morn ing Star. Mr. J. W. Granade, of Rockdale, Ga., Has an old hen that is now fifteen years old. It is estimated that she has laid 2,000 eggs and raised over 600 chickens. She now has a brood of chickens follow ing her, and promises to live many years vet. If the surplus eggs had been sold at ten cents a dozen they would have brought S9O, and the chickens at fifteen cents apiece would have amounted to (90, making a total of SIBO. Miss Madeline Garnier, a niece of Joa quin Miller, is translating clerk in the office of the first assistant postmaster general. She speaks five languages, and paints and writes well.