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Xoftl) Qeof, PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY -AT— BELLTON, GA. By JOHN T. WILSON, Jr. Tb*M4— tl.oe per an.am 50 oenu for (ii 26 eeata forthree mouth*. rartie* away (rem Be 11 to a ate requested te *ead their names with *>«h amounts ol aeney a. they can pare, frwm ice. *o $1 TO AN OLD COAT. Poor coat, well loved for many reasons, Since both of ns grow old, l>etrue; This hand has brushed you for ten •Karons, E’en Socrates no more could do. Whilst Time your thin and white-seamed stufi Keeps on attacking without end, Wisely, like me, his blows rebuff: And never lot us part, old friend. That birthday flown, when first I wore you, 1 mind well—memory yet is strong— My friends aroumY to honor bore von, And poured their welcome forth in snng. Your shabby plight—of which I’m vain— Hinders them not an arm to lend. They’d freely feast us now again; So never let us part, old friend. You’re patched behind, an ancient rending; That, too, recalls a past delight; One night to run from Jane pretending, 1 felt her soft hand clutch me tight. Toni were you, and that frightful tear It took my Jane two days to mend, While 1 was held her captive there; So never let us part, old friend. Have you been steeped in musk and amber, Which fops sniff, looking in t lie glass? Or pushed al> ng an ante-chamlier, For swells to sneer at as we pass? Throughout al. France by faction rent, Riblio'is and star:- fell strife can send— A field-flower is your ornament; So never let us part, old friend. Fear no more dnys of idle ranging, When our two fates become »s «»m\ Os pleasure with plain interchanging, Os intermingled tain and sun. For the last lime 1 soon shall dot! My clothes, just wait! and we will we Together, gently going i ff; So never let us part, ohl frier <l. From Berangei. THE YANKEE SCHOOLMASTER. On “Miller's Hill” si farm-house; a lowland structure built of wood; whoso clapboards, weather-worn and gray, were •falling into slow decay; whose mossy wooden lane troughs swung from rusty Irons rudely hung; whose curling shin gles here and there betrayed the need of good repair; whose ancient chimney, capped with stone, with lichens partly overgrown above the sagging roof, looked down upon the spires of Brandon town. Au old gray barn was built near by, with heavy girths and scaffolds high, and Solid sills and massive beams, and through the cracks and open seams the slanting sunshine used to play in golden gleams upon the hay, where oft, with many a shout, the children jumped ami played about at hide and seek, or looked with care for hidden nests in corers there. Where oft at morn they used <> hear the cackling hen and chanticleer, where, by the broad floor ’neath the mows, were cribs and stanchions for the cows, and strong plank stalls where horses stood to eat their hay from racks of wood, and, in a corner stowed away, a farming-mill and old red sleigh. Where jolly farm-boys husked at night the gold en corn by candle-light, and hung their lanterns by the bay on pitchforks thrust into the hay, where, sheltered from the autumn rain, with thundering flails they threshed the grain. Kacii year the hum ot noney-bees was heard amid the apple tree, the lilacs I doomed, the locusts fair with their sweet fragrance tilled the air; the stubble, fields were plowed and sown; the warm rain fell; the bright sun shone; the robins sang; the green grass grew; the roses blossomed in the dew; the tall red holly hock once mere bloomed brightly by the farm-house door; the sun-flower bent its gaudy head; the cattle in the pasture fed, the crickets tfhirped in meadows near, sounds were wafted to the ear o’er waving fields of tasseled corn, of clatter ing scythe and dinner horn. The reapers reaped their golden sheaves; the swallows left the stuccoed eaves; the apples in the autumn breeze grew ripe and mellow on the trees; tholeaves were swept about the air; the fields were brown, the wood lands bare; the snow-flakes fell; the air grew chill; the sleigh-bells rangon “Mil ler’s Hill.” The winter sky was overcast, the snow and sleet were falling fast. 'Twas Christmas eve; the air was cool; the children hun-ied home from school, with laughter lond and outcries shrill they reached the farm-house on the hill, they came across the kitchen floor, nor stopped to shut the entry door, all striving first the news to tell, exclaimed, in concert, with a yell: “ The teacher’s cornin’ here to stay; he’s up the road a little way; he stopped to talk with Susan Stow, an’ we ran home to let you know.” The mother stopped her spinning wheel, and put away her creaking reel, swept up the dusty hearth with care, rolled down her sleeves and brushed her hair, smoothed out her rumpled gingham gown, and in her rocking-chair sat down; then, striving hard to look her best, she calmly waited for her guest. Her ruddy, round, and fleshy face was bordered by a cap of lace; her nose was nearly hid from view by her plump cheeks of healthy hue; her eyes were bright, her hair was thin, she had a heavy double chin; her husband's arms, when both embraced, could barely cir cumscribe her waist. Os all large women nine in ten will most admire the little men, and little men—why none may tell—will love large women quite as well. They woo, they wed, the man through life is quite o’er sh ado wed by the wife. Soon, parting from his rustic flame, the tardy young schoolmaster came. His eyes were blue, his features fair, his chin o’ergrown with downy hair; behind his ears his locks of brown were smoothly brushed and plastered down; his bony limbs we.re large and long; his well trained muscles firm and strong; the tall, stout boys that years before had thrown their master through the door his rod regarded with dismay, and seldom dared to disobey. The pride and hope of Hub bardton was tall Lycurgus Littlejohn, who had, his fellow-townsmen said: “A heap o' lamin’ in his head.” (Three terms in Midblebury College had given him his “heap” of knowledge.) He often used to sit between the fair young girls of sweet sixteen and kindly The North Georgian. VOL. IV. help them “do their sums.” They brought him fruit and sugar plums; they had their girlhood hopes ami fears; his words were music in their ears; each smile he gave them had a charm; each frown would fill them with alarm. M hat envious looks at Susan Stow, his favorite scholar they would throw. Her eyes and hair were dark as night, her skin was soft, and smooth, and white; a peach-like bloom her cheeks overspread; her lips like cherries, ripe and re I. Wind wonder he could not conceal the glad, sweet thrill he use to feel through all his palpitating frame when to his desk she coyly came and, looking up with eyes of love, like some sly, timid little dove, would softly ask him to expound some knotty problem she had found? What being in the world below seemed bait as sweet ns Susan Stow? Her eyes would flash and, in re turn, his face would flush and strangely burn, and, when ho tried to calculate some long, hard “sum” upon her slate, the figures danced before his sight like lit tle gobbling, gay and white, and, when at night, with cheerful face, he started for his boarding place, what wonder that he came so slow in walking homo with Snsnn Stow? The woman crossed the kitchen floor to meet Lycurgus at the door, and, with a scrutinizing star.e she said: “Walk in an’ take a chair, an’ be to home while yon are here. Come, Busby, take his things, my dear. ” Forth from his corner, by the fire, the husband came at her desire. II is head was bald, save hero and there, stray lit tle tufts of grizzled hair; bis shoulders stooped, his form was linn, his knees were bent, his toes turned in; he wore a long blue flannel frock, gray trousers, and a satin stock; a cotton collar, tall and queer, was rudely rumpled around each ear; his face was mild, his smile was bland, as forth he put his ponderous hand, and said: “I think 1 see vou well. 1 hope you’ll stay p, lectio spell; we’re plain folks here I’d have you know, and don't go in for pride nor show.” Thon, after stepping on the cat, ho took the teacher’s coat and bat; lie hung them on a rusty nail, and, picking np his milkinsz pail, he slowly shuffled out of doors and went to do the evening chores. Close by the firelight's cheerful glare Lycurgus drew the easy chair. The savory steam of chickens slain came from the black pot on the crane. The kettle's merry song he heard; upon the hearth the gray cat purred; while, by the chimney-corner snug, the house dos dozed upon the rug. Among the chiin iiey-pi< eo of wood an idle row of flat irons stood, two candlesticks in bright array, a pair of snuffers and a tray. The time-worn clock ticked slowly on: it. struck iiie hours forever gone. “Forever gone,” it seems to say “Forever gone,” from day to day, in its tall case oi sombre hue twas fifty years since it was new. Between the windows, small and high, the looking-glass was hung, nearby; a brazen bird with wings out spread, perched on the scroll-work over head; beneath, ashelf, the common home of family Bible, brush, and comb; above, from iron hooks were hung long frames, with apples thickly strung, ami, fixed upon the wall to dry, were wreaths of pumpkin kept for pie. Forth from the buttry, to the fire, came Aunt RebeccaMclntvre. a swallow spinster, somewhat old, whose mellow age was seldom told; her hair was gray, her nose was thin, it nearly touched her toothless chin. Life’s weary work and constant caro bad worn a face that once was fair. Each Sabbath morn, from spring to spring, within the choir she used to sing, in ancient bonnet, cloak, and gown, the oldest relics in the town; beside the chorister she stood, and always did the best she could, and, while with tuning fork, ho led, she marked his movements with her head, her nasal voice rose sharp and queer above the deep-toned viol near. She took the black pot from the crane, removed the kettle from the chain, and made the tea and chicken-broth, drew out the table, spread the cloth; then, from the table, bright and new, brought the best china edged with blue. The chores were done, the feast was spread; all took their seats and grace was said. They ate the savory chicken stew, so juicy and so well cooked through; before them, rich round dump lings swam, on steaming plates, with cold boiled ham, with feathery biscuit, warm and light, with currant jam and honey, white and crowning all a good supply of yellow, mostly pump kin-pie. Where such a bounteous feast is found, who would not teach and “board around?” The supper done, the father took from oft’its shelf, the sacred Book, and read of one who stilled the sea one stormy night in Galilee; then, kneeling down before his chair, ho asked the heavenly Shep herd’s care. Soon from the group, with drowsy heads, the children started for their beds; took ofl’ the little shot s they wore, and left them on the kitchen floor; then, bidding all a fond “good night,” with pattering feet, they passed from sight. Dear little feet, how soon they stray from the old farm-house far away; how soon they leave the family fold to walk the shining streets ot gold, where every hope is real and’sure; where every heart is kind and pure; where every dream is bright and fair, —O! may we meet our loved ones there! The farmer left his cozy seat, with clattering slippers on his feet, went to the cellar where he drew a mug of cider, sweet and new, and from his broad bins brought the best and ripest apples for j his guest. Then, by the warm fire’s rud dy light, they lingered until late at night, strange legends told, and tales that made them all feel nervous and afraid. BELLTON, BANKS COUNTY, GA., APRIL 28, 1881. But “Aunt Rebecca ” watched in vain the curling smoke above the crane ; she maided, dozed, began to snore, she dropped her knitting on the floor, awoke, her eyelids heavier grew, arose and si lently withdrew. Along the creaking stairs she crept, to the lone chamber where she slept, and close the window-curtains drew, to screen herself from outward view. She stopjied the key-holo of the door, she set the candle on the floor, looked ’noath the valance—half afraid to find a man in ambuscade; then sitting down, asido with care she laid her garments on a chair, slipped on her ghostly robe of white, took off her shoes, blew out the light, then, in the darkness, from her head removed her wig and went to bed, curled up, with chilly sobs and sighs, and quivering shut her drowsy eyes. Poor single souls who sleep alone, Hie night wind hath a dismal tone to your lone ears—you start with fear at every midnight sound you hear, when late at night with weary heads you creep into your weary beds. Tho nights seem long, your lips turn blue, your feet grow cold—you know they do 1 She slept at last; she heard ones more the ripple break upon tho shore ; again she sat upon the strand, and some one clasped her fair young hand, and words were whispered in her car that long ago she loved to hear, and, starting up, she cried in gleo : “I knew you would come back to me.” She woke. Alas! no love was there. Her thin arms clasped the vacant air. ’Twas but a dream. She lived alone. Without she heard the night wind moan, while on the window-panes the snow was wildly beating. From be low the smothered sound of voices came when still with Busby’s social dame. Their guest sat by the fading fire and watched its fleeting flame expire while she listened, but no word they uttered could be clearly heard ; but soon a recol lection came that sent a shudder through her frame—the sausage to be fried at morn, the breaksast table to adorn, was in the bedroom where their guest would soon betake himself to rest. The clock struck ten, she softly said, “ I'll get it ere he goes to bed.” The spare bed stood within a room ns ■hill and humid ns a tomb ; ’twas never tired, twas seldom swept ; in its damp .■orners spiders crept ; they built their bridges through tho air, and no rude broom disturbed them there. The rain, flint fell on roof decayed, dripped through the chinks that time had made, and on the whitewashed walls ran down in won irons frescoes tinged with brown ; the window-panes, with frost o’erspread, warmer High Hint >’ y bed. ('old was the matting on the floor; cold blew the breeze beneath the door; cold were the straight-backed chairs of wood ; cold was the oaken stand that stood on spind ling legs that looked as chill as lone, bare pines oil some bleak hill ; high rose that bed o'er things below, like some fall ice berg capped with snow. Here every highly honored guest, when bedtime Bane, retired to “rest.’’ Within its largo and moldy press hung Mrs. Busbv's best silk dress: her Sunday bonnet, shoes, mid shawl, on rusty nails against the wall, by Mr. Busby's suit of blue, that at his wedding had been now. Here on a peg his best cl'aval reposed within his old fur hat; here, shut from sight of human eyes, were rows of mince and apple pies, with rolls of sausage and head-cheese, stored on the shelves and left to freeze. From out hereof, the maiden crept, slipped on her shoes mid softly stepped along the hall midthroiigh Hie gloom un til she reached the chilly room. Unseen she crossed the icy floor, unheard un locked the closet door, snatched from the shelf, in >i firm hold, a bag of saus age, stiff ana cold, then turning quickly, sought to beat a sudden, safe, and sure retreat. Too late! A light gleamed on the wall, and sound of footsteps filled tile, hull, then to the room came boldly on the stalwart form of Littlejohn! She backward stepped mid stood aghast, then closed the door and held it fust. With chattering teeth and trembling frame across the floor Lycurgus came. He placed the candle in his hand upon the spindling oaken stand. Then closed the door, and, with a frown, within a cold chair settled down. He threw his boots upon the floor, and, rising, tried the closet door; but Aunt Rebecca, in affright, dung to tho latch with all her might. To look within Lycurgus failed, he turned away and thought it nailed! Then, pulling down the snowy spread, he put his warm brick in tho bed, took off his clothes, and slipped between the sheets of ice, so white and clean, blew out the light, and, with a sneeze, close to his chin he brought his knees, be neath the clothes he drew his nose, and tried in vain to find repose; while “Annt Rebecca,” from the wall, took down the Sunday gown and shawl, she wrapped them round her freezing form, and blushed, to keep her visage warm. The paper curtains, loosely hung upon the windows, rustling swung, while through each quivering, narrow frame of frosty panes a dim light came that made the furniture appear like dusky phantoms crouching near. Lycurgus listened in the storm and hugged his brick to keep him warm, but colder grew the humid bed, the clothes con gealed around his head; to feel at ease in vain tie tried; he tossed and turned from side to side; each time he moved, be neath his weight the bedstead creaked like some farm-gate. His brick grew cold, he could not sleep, a strange sen sation seemed to creep upon him, while across the floor he closely watched the closet-door. Was he but dreaming? No! his eyes beheld, with wonder and surprise, what man had never seen before—there was a movement at the door. It slowly turned and to his sight came, through the dim, uncertain light a hideous hand, that in its clasp some awful object seemed I P' ns P. » crouching form, with fright ful head, seemed slowly coming towards the bed. He heard the rusty hinges creak, he could not stir, he could not speak, he could not turn his head away; he shut his eyes and tried to pray; upon his brow of palid hue tho cold sweat stood like drops of dew; at last he shrieked, aloud and shrill—the door swung back and all was still. That midnight cry, from room to room, resounded loudly through the gloom. The farmer and his wife at rest, within their warm and cozy nest, awoke and sprung, in strange attire, forth from their bed loud shouting—“firei” But nna.ng neither smoke nor name, soon stumbling up the stairs they came. In cotton bedquilts quaintly dressed, they heard a deep groan from their guest, ana, full of wonder and affright, pushed in the door and struck a light. Deep down within the feather bed Lycurgus had withdrawn his head, and, out of sight, lay quaking there, with throbbing breast and bristling hair. They questioned him. but he was still; he shook as if ho had a chill, the cour age was completely gone from tall Ly curgus Littlejohn. What human language can express, the modest maiden’s dire distress, while standing still behind the screen, a sad spectator of the scene ? What pen or pencil can portray her mute despair and deep dismay ? A while she stood, and through tho door she peeped across the bed room floor; the way was clear, and like a vise she grasped the sausage, cold as ice, sprang from the closet, and from sight she glided like agl earn of light, away without a look or word, she flew like an affrighted bird; without a moment of delay, the mystery cleared itself away! i Again the snow gleams on the ground, again the sleigh-bells gayly sound, again on “Miller’s Hill” wo hear the shouts of children loud and clear; but in the barn is heard no more the flapping flail upon the floor. The house is down, its in mates gone, and tall Lycurgus Little john is now an old man. worn with cure, with stooping form and silver hair. Ho married dark-eyed Susan Stow, and they were happy, years ago. When, in tho merry winter-time, their children's children round him climb, he tells them of his fearful fright, on that far distant winter night: and. after the.v are put to bed, when by the fire with nodding head lie sits and sinks to slum bers deep, and quakes and shivers in his sleep, alas! ho is but, dreaming still ol that spare bed on “Miller's Hill.”— Hvjjrpe J. Hall, in Chicago Tribune. White Rorse Shares. A Now Yorker was seated in an office n Gunnison City, Col., one day, when i grizzly looking old chap entered and inked if that was the place where they sold shares of the White Horse Silver Mine. Being assured he was in tho of ilco of the company he observed: “I have heard tho White Horo spoken as as being a likely mine.” “It certainly is. We took SIO,OOO worth of ore out in one day.” “Phew! She must be just old richness! How many men have ye got to work." “Oh, about three hundred.” “Have ye, though? Are the sheers go ing off party lively?” “Shares are selling like hot cakes, and we have only a few left. Everybody lays tho White Horse is a big invest meKt.” “What are sheers worth to-day ?” “1 will sell you at ninety-five, though 1 know they will be worth face value to morrow.” “No ! You don’t really mean ninety five?” “1 do.” “Well, that’s bettor; there's a hundred sheers which you sold my pard yester day for twenty dollars. 1 went over t< the mine, found nothing but a hole mid a dead mule, and [told him I’d conn iq and get his money back, or do souk shooting! I’m tnrnal glad to find tlien sheers has riz from twenty to ninety fbi . That will give my pard his money buck and buy me a winter outfit b sid<s Here’s the sheers, and now h t me si - the color of your money!” “But, sir, we—” “Passout the cash!” said the ohl man, is he rested the end of his shooter on the edge of the counter. The company had left his revolver in his overcoat outside, and he didn't be lieve the New Yorker would shoot fm him. After a look around, he began counting out the money with a bland imile, and as he made the exchange he said: “Certainly, sir—greatest of pleasure, lir. Sorry you didn't hold them one day more, and get the full face value!’ Lilies. Everybody is delighted with the fra grance and delicacy of the white water lily, and we buy them at the railroad stations in summer as good genii, which will dispel largely the lassitude, the de pression and disgust of a hot day’s ride in the sultry and cindery cars. Very few but have, at one time or another, wished that they might be able to propagate so sweet a flower. The following mode has proved successful: The roots, procured tn the fall, are kept damp during the en suing winter in flower-pots. In the spring a half-barrel, with the hoops well secured, is procured; if painted, so much the better, and set on bricks in the garden, and one-third filled with a mixt ure of garden earth, sand, and well rotted manure. The roots are set in this and covered. Water is added gently, and a little at a time, every day or two (so as not to disturb the earth) till the tub js filled, In the fall the water is al lowed to dry off, and the tub is placed in the cellar and watered at long intervals. NEWS GLEANINGS. There arc more than 200,000 Germans in Texas. Col. Fred Grant is to reside at Hous ton, Tex., it is said. In Lafourche, parish, La., there are 318 citizens named Williams. The frontier battalion of Texas now consists of five companies numbering 120 officers and men. The Louisiana Sugar Bowl does not hope for a large crop this year, for it is at least a month late. The Austin (Tex.) Statesman says that the increase of the sheep flocks about Uvalde this year averages ninety per cent., the largest known for a long time. The Charlotte Observer reports the purchase of land near that city for the purpose of smelting works. Ores will be purchased from the owner of mines and smelted and refined at the works. Chattanooga Times: A terrible dis ease prevails among the cattle in the Seventeenth district of Bartow county, Ga. It proves fatal in nine out of ten cases. Not less than twenty milch cows have died within a mile of Euharlee in the past ten days. Mobile (Ala.) Register: The resigna tion of Dr. Stuart Robinson retires from active service in the Presbyterian church, one of the ablest divines in the country. Many of our readers will remember hear ing Dr. Robinson preach when the Gen eral Assembly of the Presbyterian church South met here a few years after the war. Austin (Tex.) Statesman : Galveston having deprived herself of her natural barrier against the encroachments of the gulf waves by removing the sand hills that had formed along the beach, is re placing them, or aiding nature to do so by planting hedges of salt cedars, against which the sands drift and form natural levees or break-waters. The South Florida Journal states that Dr. A. C, Caldwell, of Sanford, has an orange tree that is a curiiLTj wottlr ing to see. It is a large, fine tree, stand ing just at his front gate. It has a good ly number of ripe oranges on it, and about 1,000 green ones half grown, the tree having blossomed after the storm of last August, and is now full of blooms for another crop. The Pulaski (Tenn.) Citizen says that Dr. Leftwich, assisted by the Christians J 1 of Pulaski, held a prayer meeting in the | court-house in that town before a very , large audience of country people, and i the editor states that it was one of the ' most serious and effective meetings he ever witnessed. Two neighbors, come to town to law each other, stepped into j the room where the meeting was being held, and they soon had each other by ( the hand and differences were forgotten in embraces. The Macon (Ga.) Telegraph rays tha on Friday last Mr. W. 11. Turner, a brother-in-law of Mr. Nelms, went down to Butler to get ’Squire Bryant, a negro, under sentence of ten years in the peni tentiary. ’Squire saw that he wai in for a decade of labor, and, rather than en dure it, he took a pocket-knife and cut out both his eyes. He afterward claimed that the deed was done by his having run against some splinters in a wall, but marks of blood upon his knife and other circumstances disprove this, and prove the first statement. Mr. Turner returned without his man. New Orleans States: Telephonic com munication has already been established between Vicksburg and Jackson, Miss., and verbal messages are sent over this wire daily. Yesterday the exchange in this city placed the telephonic attach ments to a Western Union wire and yelled 1 ‘Helion” at Vicksburg. The lat ter answered back, “What do you want?” just as natural as you please. This interchange of salutations placed the two cities on speaking terms, as it were, and business began at once. Every tiedy who had anything to say said it, and those who had nothing to say said it just to he sociable. Mr. G. W. Irby, of Vicksburg, sent an older to Justin Langles for several boxes of ginger-snaps and crackers. The experimental con nection was a decided success. It costs but little to make a child glad ; it costs but little to secure the grateful remembrance of a child; but if it cost a hundred-fold more than ii does, it would be a profitable investment. It pays well to have a monument erected to ourselves in a child's memory and affections. And this we may have by a little thoughtful ness and attention. PuiIJSHKD EVKBT THUMBAT XTt BELLTON, GEORGIA/ SATES OF ZUBBOEIPTIOJT. Ous year (52 number*), 11.00; ifx aoatha numbers). 50 cents; three meaths (>< numbers), 25 cents. Ofliceinthe Carter buittin;, wnt o’ th depot. M). 17. USEFUL HINTS. To take fresh paint off a woolen gar ment rub tho spots with stale bread un til removed. Lemons can be kept sweet and fresh for months by putting them in a clean, tight cask or jar, and cover with cold water. The water must be changed as often us once every other day, and tho cask kept in a cool place. To Destroy Ants.—Take carbolio acid diluted with water—take one part acid to ten parts water—and with a syringe throw this liquid into all the cracks and holes where they nest, and ants will soon vanish. Cockroaches are also driven away by it. When sewing buttons on children’s clothes where there will be much strain on the button, the danger from tearing the cloth out will be greatly lessened by putting a small button directly under the larger outside button. TJiis applies of course, only to buttons with holes through them. An exchange says : “For worms and flies infesting house plants, several read ers recommend watering them with lime water. Close the opening nt the bottom of the pot, fill with lime water and let it stand for an hour or two, then remove the plug at the bottom and drain it off. If one application is insufficient, try a second. ” To give a beautiful gloss to shirt bosoms, procure two ounces of fine white gum arabic and pound it to pow der, put it into a pitcher and pour on to it a pint or more of boiling water, ac cording to the degree of strength you desire, and then, having covered it,' let it set all night. In the morning pour it carefully from the dregs into a clean bottle, cork it, mid keep it for further use. A tabic-spoonful of gum-water stirred into u pint of starch that has been made in the usual manner will give a beautiful gloss to shirt-bosoms, and to lawns (either white or printed) a look of newness to which nothing else can restore them after washing. It is also good for thin white muslin and all kinds of laces. To Clean Mirrors.—Take a news paper or part of one, according to the size of the glass. Fold it small and dip it into a basin of clean cold water ; when thoroughly wet squeeze it out in your hand as you would a sponge, and then rub it hard all over the face of tho glass, taking care that it is not so wet ns to run down in streams. In fact, the paper must only be completely moistened or damped all through. After the glass has been well rubbed with wet paper, let it rest for a few minutes, and then ever it with a fresh dry newspaper (folded small in your hand) till it looks clear and bright, which it will almost immediately and with no further trouble. This method, simple as it is, is the best and most expeditious for cleaning mirrors, and it will be found so on trial —giving a cleanness and polish that can be produced by no other process. I'lie Homes or America. It is not a mere accident that the homes of America are the most comfort able and comforting on earth. Nor are these home comforts due simply to me chanical skill or economic judgment, z. country which has limited tho powers of its government stimulates society, and highly moral society produces the most perfect homes which human eyes or poetic visions can behold. No one knows the American system well who does not know the American home. Our political system is publicity itself; American so ciety has never yet been fully charac terized; while the best result of both, the perfect home, has been praised in gen eral terms, but not described and ex plained in its true fullness. The novel writers, from whom such descriptions might bo expected, have failed ignomin iously in their attempts at showing tl». maturest results of our social system. Yet this system is unique, and it is a marked advance upon all European models. The English home approaches the American home, while the German home approaches the English; but the ideal American home, not rarely realized, has a comfort, a character and a dignity all its own. It may seem to be wanting in the graces, traditions and responsi bilities peculiar to the best English homes; it surpasses them in moral dig nity; it differs from all the others in be ing tho result of a highly-refined civiliza tion; it is the best and purest outcome of our ethical system. There has been much pleasant banter about the great American novel that is to come. Let it not dwell too much on politics; British politics are larger than ours. Let it not tell too much of busy people; the French are as industrious and industrial os we are. Let it not confine itself to analysis of character or sentiment; other nations have both in abundance. Let it describe tho purest and sweetest of American homes and let it describe, not an ideal, but that reality which distinguishes the American home from all others, and shows it to be the best outcome of our history, our political institution and our locial system.— llonio'i Advertiser. Vanity of Highwaymen. —A Galvea voston lady was reading a newspaper ac count of a stage robbery that recently took place west of San Antonio and was very indignant on reading that besides robbing tho passengers they had opened the mail and read the letters, among them, possibly, a letter the lady herself had written to a friend. “You needn’t be alarmed,” remarked the lady’s hus band "I dare say they did not read a word in any of those letters, as those fel lows don’t know B. from bull's foot.” “Why, then, did they make out that they read them ?” “Oh, they made out they could read so as to make a favorable impression on the passengers.”—Gal veston News.