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NORTH GEO , GIA TIMES.
W. T. HAMBV.i Editors and Proprietor..
W. V. AIAKTIN.i
philosophy A fable.
»T THE EARL OF LTJTTOH.
b " rm Blare
I. ‘ " alk al °ne they did not dare
I 6 a n A , ™ man -h there be:
Experience guides . them, but r Bu
exacts her fee.
inat edged the valley to the valley’s end.
1 6 ' they saw above them, in a gray
Abysm * l of mist, the pathless
Beyond whose their peaks extend,
snows onward journey lay
Wrapt In obscurity, resolved to spend
i he night below; where, ns they supp'd together,
Their talk was of the road and of the weather.
ill.
l raan y an anxious questioning
With knowledge and authority combined;
Upon As doubt that point permitting no such thing
or choice. And best it is, you’ll find,
i he guJocPby fate assigned yon (church or king,
creed or school) with defferencc due to mind,
y° a would not miss your way,
Where all who go unguided go astray.
rv.
Bnt as regards the weather, It waa not
By means of patents which the state provides
Easy cold to certify if ’twonld be hot
Or upon the morrow. And, besides,
Afraid of risking an nnlncky shot,
Press’d Authority was reticent. The guides,
upon this point, would vouchsafe no lot
Or revelation. Coy as maiden brides
To Craving lovers, so adroit were they,
Kach understood them in a different way.
v.
The first one, therefore, of those travelers three
Made preparation to withstand the cold:
The second fear’d the sun's excess: and he
His fur coat to his fellow-pilgrim sold:
rhe third, mistrusting the utility
Of the whole enterprise, and being less bold,
Or more indifferent as the case may be,
-Went 1 hough onward thrice by a way which he was told,
wended; as long, could be more safely
Shunning the monntain his two friends ascended.
vi.
And so they parted: one along the plain,
Alono; tho otb ;wo, with staff and guide.
Up In the the steep hill*. Anon, they met again.
neat hostel on the other bide,
The two who who o’er the mountain tops had ta’en
fheir arduous course, arrived their first; but,
tried
Severely There, by with the adventure, each was fain
exhausted forces, to abide
So long a while, that he who went alone
Got there at last before the two were gone.
vir.
There two hod cross'd the mountain, so they said,
Each by a road as different as could be:
Because their guides, tho’ both were patented
By the same government, could not agree
On the same road. Thus each h s own guide led
By his own way: yet in the same degree
T he two ways were so difficult to tread,
Even with incessant toil of hand and knee,
That each wayfarer, when the goal he won,
Was just as weary as the other one.
VIII.
Bootless that goal both reach’d with bleeding feot,
The man who was well covered from the cold
Had suffer’d all his journey from the heal;
He who at starting his warm coat had sold
was Yet nearly each, frozen despite by the icy gleet;
the woful tale lie told,
Averred that naught in nature could compete
With the mysterious splendors round him roll’d
In solemn rapture by the mighty hills,
Which, seen and felt, repaid a thousand ills.
IX.
And all this had they seen and felt; had seen
The sudden sunrise burst from underneath
And Had wrap felt with the line rosy joy, fumes shared tne summits the radiant keen’;
Of tho blithe sprite that dances in the sheen wreath.
Of the sonorous torrent: felt tho breath
°U! The fe cold S™ w wide-open Bodlike, breath’d of watchful in bsste between death,
arms
Upon To them the the slippery peaks. And, after that,
plain seemed pitiably flat.
x.
The less adventurous traveler, while hie two
Glanced Regain’d companions (old their story out,
And bools smiling at comfortably his garments good as new.
still soled and stout;
Then, The with a toTtim, sigh of satisfaction, drew
Lighted flagon his pipe, tam’d his chair about.
three puffs deliberate bl ow,
And. like a man who hath dismiss’d all doubt.
He cross’d his legs, and clear’d his throat, and said:
“All's well that ends well, as in books I’ve read.
XI.
“And w •e, methinks, must be content, we three,
Each with the road he chose, who here to-day
Meet all together just as well, you see,
As if we all had travel’d the same way.
You two have traversed heights unknown to me;
But, missing these, 1 mist'd the pains you sav
rhelr pleasures cost; have kept my shin-bonts'frec
From aches and bruises; have no bills to pay
For doctors^ stuffs; have saved my baggage, too;
And, though admiring, do not envy you.
XU.
“A finer rapture felt through every vein,
A wider prospect, and a purer air,
Onheighte Were where yet you could not Jong remain,
yours; and now you mourn because you
Whilst ne’er, here
on level ground, can feel again
What I, who have not ever mounted there,
Ne’er felt at all. But o’er the common plain.
The Keeping of the common path, ’twas mine to share
For joys those oommon who through life, by contrast spoil'd
untrodden realms have
toil’d.
XIII. 0
Even as your guides, of whom each boaets that ho
Found out the only right one. I, content
To take the beaten track, at least am free
Fromall Buch doubts; and, having kep t the nent
Of custom’s course, my way was nude foi r me;
No guide I needed, since the trodden d ent
Of other footsteps served as guides to mine,
And show’d me where to sleep and where to dine
xiv.
“So compensation is assigned to each,
There’s something better, bom of something
In worse.
(In every this choice; and different men may reach
By different accommodating universe) i
ways the Belf same en To breach
Ail bold barriers, and brave; built by circumstance perverse,
!s bnt bones of heroeB bleach
In warning heaps the stormy winds disperse
On monntain tops, which men who cannot climb
May turn by ways more safe, if less sablime.”
XV.
Full hard of access is Philosophy;
A mountain region, misty, cold, and gray.
Innumerable guides aerpss It try
To lead men, eaeh one by ^ different way, -
eac * 1 Sam© authority:
The highest climbers must at last some day
From their high climbing, climb they ne’er so high,
Descend Into the common plain; where they
Will By lowlier haply find some less ambitious soul
ways hath won the wisht-for goal.
XVI.
F Soth h n G rnVire’s ta*l ^
Who to t ob
(Shunning what he cannot surmount) as fast
As they who stoutly to o’ercome them strive.
*Tis pleasant roaming over summits vast,
But, after all. philosophers must live
Here on the plain wdere man’s low life Is pass’d.
And m the sundown all at length arrive,
Whate’er the bootless, road that meanwhile pleased ns best,
Booted, or at The Traveler’s Best.
—Youth’* Companion.
Daring all seasons of the year, it is
said, the earth at Y'akutsk, Siberia, is
frozen from the depth of fifty feet to
that of about 1,000 feet.
SPRING PLACE. GEORGIA, THURSDAY. SEPTEMBER 3« 1885.
THAT STOUT PARTY.
Aunt had loft me a good deal of
property, and it was while on a journey
from Liverpool to New Y’ork to look
after the same that I fell in with the
stout party.
Her name was Crurnbe — Sararann
Crumbe—an odd sort of name it seemed
for a young woman of her size; for she
was a stout party, and no mistake, and,
queer enough, if she didn’t seem to git
stouter every day. I watched her so
ciose, it seemed I could see ’er a swcllin’
wisibly before my werry eyes. But I was
gattin’ deeper an’ deeper under that ’ore
spell as makes fools of us all some time
or other. I even begun to write a poem
to her, so you may know os I was pretty
desperate. I’d written advertisin’ rhymes
about our soap, you know, but I found
love verses quite different, and I balked
after the fust two lines—
“ My heart is yours, oh, Sararann Crumbe !
I long to spook, but love strikes me dumb.”
That was, in my opinion werry neat as
fur as it went, but it didn’t go fur
enough. But at last she seemed moro
friendly like, and I told her about Aunt
Berlinder and the fortin’ and the soap
business.
“I’vo quite a snug little shop of my
own,” sez she, “only Pm werry lonely.”
Then she giv me ono of them meltin’
looks with her eyes that seem to make a
fellow’s heart jest simmer down into
jelly like.
But I plucked up courage to say, “It’s
yer own fault, mum, if you're alone. A
charmin’ young woman like you must
’ave ’ed loads of chances for gettin’ a
companion.”
“Oh, I'm afeard you’re a flatterin’,
Mr. Stokes,” she says, a-smiling up at
me, so as I couldn’t help stealin’ my arm
around her waist—well, it didn’t go 'alf
round, you know—and sayin’, “Well, if
you never ’ad a chance before, wbat do
you say to takin’ me for better or wuss?
I’m sure you won’t find it wuss.”
She didn’t move away from my arm a
bit. She just looked at mo with them
black eyes, and says she, “Oh, Handrew!
I’m he.yer thine!” And then—it was
pretty dark on deck, so I took her in my
arms—that is, as much as I could of her
—and stole a kiss for to seal the engage¬
ment.
After that, you know, the days slipped
away like magic. She was a woner to
talk, she was; she had, in fact, the gift
of the gab werry gallopin'. But she
seemed rather shy about permittin’ any
embraces or affectionate squeezes. “I
don’t want to make a spectacle of my¬
self,” sez she. “I don’t care if we make
a pair of spectacles,” sez I; and then 1
wondered if it was her oncommon cor¬
pulence as made her awerse to squeezes,
as them stout parties has difficulty in
getting their breath at the best of times,
and I thought after wo was married I’d
try and coax her into takin’ anti-fat, or
some of them advertised things as say
they have given folks a view of their own
shoe-strings as ’adn’t ’ad the pleasure of
contemplatin’ ’em for twenty years. So
I ’ad to be contented with a squeezin’ of
her ’and, which, queer enough, was
slim, and long, and quite thin.
“Yer ’and don’t never seem to belong
to yer, Sararann,” sez I, one day.
"No, it belongs to you,” she sez, with
a quick look and a smile.
“I know it, my love, but I mean it’s
net like the rest of you; it’s thin, but
you’re as plump as—a—a angel 1"
“I’m not always fat," she sez.
“Oh, ain’t you?” sez I, with a little
feelin’ of relief, I must confess, ’cos she
was a leetle too much so, and I didn’t
want a wife as Barnum would be covetin’
for his show.
“No, it’s the sea voyages as does it,”
she says, quite bewitchin’. “'Perhaps
you won’t love me as much when I git
thin.”
“Oh, I’m yours through thick and
thin!” I makes answer. “There’s no
changin’ in Andrew Stokes, my dear.”
I noticed, however, that Sararann was
not altogether easy in her mind. I began
to be afraid as there was another feller
in the background or somethin’, and I
pressed her to name the day. But she
was werry firm on that point.
“You must wait till we’re on land,”
she says. “I feel that nervous while I’m
on the water I can’t settle nothin’. Wait
till we’re safe on land.” -
So I waited. It was a hot day enough
when we hove in sight, and I really pitied
poor Sararann, she felt it so, with so
much flesh on ’er. She was that flus¬
tered I couldn’t keep up with her, and
actilly, she scarcely waited for the plank
to be put down before she stepped
ashore. I was hurryin’ after her, when
I saw her stopped by two strappin’ fel¬
lers. I couldn’t hear wot they said, but
I know jealousy was like a wulture tear
in’ at my witals. I saw her throw up her
’ands, and then I seemed to ’ear her cry
'‘Handrew!” But before I got near’er
she ’ad disappeared as if the earth ’ad
opened an’ Swallowed ’er np.
You can fancy the feelin’a of a fellow
as sees ’is sweetheart swollered before
his weirry eyes. I tore around here and
there, and asked questions of everybody
in a wild way.
At last a Custom ’Ouse officer stopped
and eyed me a moment.
“A stout party?” sez ne.
“Oh, yes, a stout lady,” I answered,
pantin’.”
“Perhaps you’re her pardner?” sez he.
“I don’t mind confessin’ I’m goin’ to
be,” sez I, givin’ him a wink.
“Oh, come now, none of that,” sez
he, quite stern. “We’re incorruptible,
as you’ll find. An’ if you’re goin’ to be
her pardner, I’ve a word to say to you.
Just come in here.”
An’ if the fellow didn’t take me by
the arm as if I was a prisoner, an’ he
walked me into an inside office. I ’adn’t
more than got in when I see another
Custom ’Ouso fellow coming out, an’
behind ’im came a long, lanky beanpole
of a female, with ’er clothes ’angin’ like
bags on ’er arms. But, the dress 1
Surely, I knew that garnet merino with
the yellow trimmin’s an’ that ’at with
yellow feather, an’ the lace shawl!—I
felt as if I ’ad got among magic I An’
when I saw Sararann’s own face at the
top of this lanky picture, 1 sez to the
officer, “Punch me, or stick a pin in me,
for I believe I’m crazy or drunk. Who
is this woman?”
“Why, you said you was ’er pardner,”
says he, with a griu. “She’s a smuggler
—a first-class one I She’s an old stager,
she is, an’ they’re a takin’ ’er off to
prison, an’ you bein’ ’er pardner ’as got
to be searched likewise.”
At that moment the strange-lookin’ fe¬
male caught sight of me.
“Oh, Handrew!” she cried. “Thank
’eavens, you are ’ere! Save me—save me!”
But I didn’t care a bit. I looked stern.
My blood was bilin’.
“Woman,” sez I, without flinching,
“I never knew you 1”
“Oh, what a base deceiver!" she
screamed. “An’ you said you’d love
me through thick and thin!”
“But this is too thin!” says I. “Oh,
Sararann, this is much too thin 1”
An’ so she was hustled off, an’ I was
searched, but as nothin’ contraband was
found on me I was let free. An’ I never
saw the stout party again or the thin one
either. An’ I got my eye-teeth cut that
time, for no female ever bamboozled ne
agin! _
Worth While.
A young lrtd, who was a pupil at Rug¬
by school, was noted for his bad pen
manship. When his teacher remonstra¬
ted, he replied: “Many men of genius
have written worse scrawls than I do. It
is not worth while to worry about so
trivial a fault.”
Ten years later, this lad was an officer
in the English army, doing service in the
Crimean war. An order ho copied for
transmission was so illegible that it was
given incorrectly to the troops, and the
result was the loss of a great many brave
men.
A few years ago, the keeper of a life¬
saving station on the Atlantic coast
found that his supply of powder had
given out. The nearest village was two
or three miles distant, and the weather
was inclement. He concluded that it
“was not worth while to go so far ex¬
pressly for such a trifle,” he would wait
for a few day. before sending for a sup
ply
That night a vessel was wrecked with¬
in sight of the station. A line could
have been given to the crew if he had
been able to use the mortar, but he had
no powder. Ho saw the drowning men
perish one by one in his sight, knowing
that he alone was to blame. A few days
afterward he was dismissed from the ser¬
vice.
“Catskin Earls.”
The late earl of Huntingdon, whose
death and whose genial character were
the subject of remark in these columns
last week, enjoyed, at all events, one
singular privilege. He was one of the
“catskm earls,” the other two being
Lords Shrewsbury and Derby, the only
earls whose names can stand before that of
Huntingdon in the table of precedence
It is said that the robes of the holders
of these three most ancient titles in this
grade of the peerage are trimmed with
the skins of white cats instead of with
the usual fur, and that this has been the
case from very early times, and that
their lordships of Shrewsbury, Derby,
and Huntingdon have always declinedto
follow the example of their modern
brethren so far as to adopt ermine, and
to carry it on their shoulders. If fact
be true as I believe it to be, it is strange
that it is so little known, and that so
few references should be made to it.
' Cond<m }/ ® -
_______
.
The leather product of this country
reaohee $600,000,000 per annum.
H FUN.
“The Northwest lumber resources
have decreased twenty-five per cent, in
the last year.” The supply of block¬
heads, however, keeps right up with the
demand.
A Wisconsin man was reported as
“murdered” when the word should havo
been “married,” but the distinction was
so alight that the proof-reader let it pass.
—Boston Post.
You can find a man who enjoys break
ing in new boots a good deal easier than
yottcan converse with a woman who
wouldn’t stop eating pie to kiss a baby
any time.— Chicago ledger.
Asking too much—A man applied at a
house in San Antonio for aid. “You
should go to work and earn a living,”
was the indignant reply. “Go to work!
It isn't bad enough that I am so poor
lhat I have to beg, and here you come
and want me to work beside.”— Sift¬
ings,
“What and When to Eat” is the title
of an article in an exchange. This is a
subject on which we are posted. The
“#hen” never gave us any trouble in all
our eating, but we have been compelled
to do a thundering sight cf skirmishing
arcjund after the “what."-— Newman In
dependent.
THE MERRY MAIDEN.
The sealskin sacque, that erst with pride she
*2 wore,
Is now in camphor safely laid away, .
And from the sultry city to the shore
With pleasure hastes the maiden fair and
i linen, W
And in lawn, or muslin, or pique,
ribbons at her throat, a vision fair,
She Along the slowly, yellow sands where wavelets play
passes with a pensive air,
Creating havoc ’mong the hearts of mash*
ers there.
—Boston Courier.
Call a girl a chick, and she smiles;
call a woman a hen, and she howls.
Call a young woman a witch, and she is
pleased; call an old woman a witch, and
she is indignant. Call a girl a kitten,
and she rather likes it; call a woman a
cat, and she’ll hate you. Queer sex, isn’t
it?— lied Bluff (Cal.) Hews.
“ Say not that tho day of disinterested
benevolence has vanished. We know of
d man who has the rheumatism, which
has treated him in the most cruel man¬
ner, and yot there is no end to the things
that man has done for that rheumatism,
and he still continues in the same un¬
selfish course.” —Boston Transcript.
WORDS OF WISDOM.
The world is full of people who strain
at a gnat and swallow a whole menag¬
erie.
Nature is a rag merchaut, who works
up every shred and odd and end into new
creations.
Though flattery blossoms like friend¬
ship, yet there is a great difference in
the fruit.
The most delicate, the most sensible of
all pleasures, consists in promoting the
pleasure of others.
Much learning shows how little mor¬
tals know; much wealth, how little
worldlings enjoy.
To an honest mind the best perquisites
of a place are the advantages it gives a
man of doing good.
To be absent from the one we love is
to carry a vacant chamber in the heart
which nothing else can fill.
War is but an organized barbarism and
an inheritance of the savage state, how¬
ever disguised and ornamented.
Every kind of suffering, sorrow or be¬
reavement, is endurable, when there
is no self reproach to lend double edge,
To Purify Drinking Water.
Professors Austen and Wilber, m a re¬
cent New Jersey geological report, re¬
commend the use of alum for the puri¬
fication of drinking water. After elab¬
orate experiments the professors consid
ered it established that the addition of
t wo era j n8 0 f a ] um to the gallon, or half
"
an 0 nce to one hundred g a u 0 ns, water
can be c i arified by standing, and that
neither taste nor physiological properties
will be i m p arte d to it by this treatment,
By increasing the amount of alum, tho
time required for the separation and set
t ling can be diminished, and vice versa,
bv dimi nishing the amount of alum
added> a greater time will be required
for the clarification. The solution of
alum is made ag fo n OW9: Dissolve half
an ounce of alum in a J of boiu
watert and when it ifJ all d ol ved, pour '
into a quart mea9ure and fiu to a ftrt
with cold water . (This golution should
be kept in a bottle labelcd .. Alum ..,
Fifty-four drops of this solution contain
2>3 grains of ^ which ig the amount
to be added to one gallon of water. Tho
old-fashioned teaspoon holds about forty
dropg; the new w ho)d
about 8eventy drops . Henc6i a modern
teaspoon, scant full, will be about the
eight amount to add to every gallon of
Water to be filtered.
VOL. V. Naw Series. No. 30.
POPULAR SCIENCE,
A French commission has found that
the most violent explosions in mines oc •
cur when there are thirteen parts of air
to 100 of firedamp, and that above or
below this the force diminishes. When
the mixture is below seven parts in 100,
or above eighteen in 100, the gas simply
burns.
As tissue exhaustion resulting from
toil, privation or anxiety promotes the
development of cancer, an English’medi¬
cal anthority thinks the marked increase
in the death rate from that disease dur¬
ing the last half-century may be readily
explained by a glance at the history of
our laborious age.
That earthquakes exert a destructive
influence on the phyloxcva insect of the
grape is the opinion of S. Villalongue,
who has told the Paris Academy of
Sciences of a vineyard near Malaga
which had apparently been destroyed by
the parasite but which vigorously burst
into leaf after the recent earthquakes in
southern Spain.
The latest addition to the telephone is
a little instrument called the antiphone, ,
which is the invention of a German,
Captain PJessner, of Stuttgart, It is
fastened to the ear and serves to counter¬
act the unpleasant and often injurious
influence which intense noises or sounds
have on the nerves the ear.
Dr. Phipson advocates, in a German
scientific journal, tho general use of
sugar as a regular article of diet. For
forty years he has eaten at least a quarter
of a pound daily, not counting sugar
formine substances taken at the same
time, and has found it very healthful.
Man’s condition would be greatly im¬
proved if the use of sugar should substi¬
tute that of alcohol.
Mr. Emmett S. Goff believes there
may be a law of relation between color
and flavor in fruits and vegetables. A
knowledge of such a law would be of
advantage to agriculturists In the selec¬
tion of the best plants for continued
cultivation. Thus far Mr. Goff seems to
have shown that a light-colored flesh de¬
notes a milder and more delicate flavor
than exists in darker-colored specimens
of the same varieties.
Dr. Jaime Forran, whose experiments
in cholera insculation have made his
name famous, is a young man, having
been born inCorbora (Tarragona), Spain,
in 1852. Ho studied medicine in Tortosa
and took his degree at Barcelona. He
has been for some years an enthusiastic
microbiologist, and received from the
Madrid academy an award for a work in
which he recorded bis investigations.
The gist of his discovery lies in the fact
that he followed tho cholera microbe of
Koch through its various stages of de¬
velopment and transformation until lie
detected a spore (the neronospora ferrani)
which, in bis belief, contains the real
virus of cholera. It was with specimens
of this organism that he made his inocu¬
lative substance.
California and Oregon are liable to oc¬
casional ravages of three species of lo¬
custs, the most dangerous of which is
the great Rocky mountain locust, whose
ravages several years ago came near
starving out the people of two or three
Western States. This locust is remarka¬
ble for its power of flight, and travels in
dense swarms high up in the air, dark¬
ening the sun or filling the sky with the
glistening light of their wings. Observ¬
ers have stood on the highest peaks of
the Rocky mountains, and straining
their eyes upward have seen the sky
filled with clouds of these tiny, soaring
insects, so high as to bo barely discerni¬
ble. These insects, after devastating
one region, rise into the air to look for
fresh fields and pastures new.
The Afghan and His Gun.
The Afghan matchlock or jazail has
no parallel as a firearm on the face of
the earth, says a letter from abroad. It
is about nine feet long, and is fitted near
the muzzle with a prong which supports
it on the ground when it is about to be
fired off. It is fitted with a powder-pan
and a catch for holding a fuse. An
Afghan marksman has to depend upon
the state of his fuse, and therefore he is
by no means a certain shot. During tho
last Afghan war it used to be a joke among
the British soldiers that an Afghan
would poise his jazail upon a rock, cal¬
culate when his enemy would be likely
to arrive in front of his muzzle, fix his
fuse, and then go off to some little dis¬
tance and sit down and smoke. If the
enemy arrived in front of the matchlock
just as it went off, why he would most
likely be killed, but if he didn’t, and the
weapon went off a quarter of an hour
after he had passed it, then no harm was
done, and its owner would philosophi¬
cally “set” his jazail again in hopes of
catching the next comer, and then go off
to his rock, smoke and wait develop¬
ments.
LADIES’ COLUMN’.
BoRiifirul at Four Score.
And old lady over eighty years of age;
and who was once a great beauty, died
recently in Paris, leaving after her a
diary in which she endeavors to show up
tho alleged vanity of women. From tho
age of twenty to thirty she spent three
hours a day at her toilet, which foots up
for the period ono year ninety-one days
and six hours employed in dressing her
hair, powdering her cheeks and painting
her lips. From thirty to fifty the toilet
labors amounted to five hours a day, the
extra hours being consecrated to cover¬
ing up the tracks of time, including the
obliteration of crows’ feet and other
necessary filling in and grading. Time,
four years and forty days. After fifty
her efforts had to be redoubled. To the
last she resisted the effects of time.
— Chicago Herald.
lion Ladies Should Ride*
The horsewoman should sit so that tho
weight of the body falls exactly in tho
centre of tho saddle, without heavily
bearing on tho stirrup, able to grasp tho
upright pommel witli the right knee, and
press against the “hunting horn” with
her left knee, yet not* exerting any mus¬
cular action for that purpose. For this*
end the stirrup leather must be neither
too long nor too short. Tho ideal of a
fine horsewoman is to be erect without
being rigid, square to tho front and,
until quite at home in the saddle, look¬
ing religiously between her horse’s ears.
The shoulders must, therefore, bo square,
but thrown back a little so as to expand
tho chest and make a hollow waist,
“such as is observed in waltzing,” but
always flexible. On the flexibility of the
person above the waist and on the firm¬
ness below all the grace of equestrianism
—all the safety depends. Nervousness
makes both men and women poke their
heads forward—a stupid trick In a man,
unpardonable in a woman. A lady
should bend like a willow in a storm, al¬
ways returning to an easy yet nearly up¬
right position. This seat should be ac¬
quired whilo the lady’s horse is led, first
by hand, then with a loading stick and
finally with a luncheon rein, which will
give room for cantering in circles. But
where the pupil is encumbered with
reins, a whip and directions for guiding
her horse she may be excused for ftfrget
ing all about her seat or her position.
Tho arms down to the elbows should
hang loosely near, but not fixed to the
sides, and the hands, in the absence of
reins, may rest in Iront of the waist.—
Philadelphia Times.
Fashion Notes.
Double skirts are seen on new dresses.
Lace parasols in all colors are seldom
lined.
Old-fashioned sprigged muslins are in
style again.
Thin veilings make (he prettiest of
summer dresses.
White nun's veiling remains in favor
as nice dresses for misses.
Wedgewood designs in table ware are
again popular and in much demand in
this country.
Poppy red and blue serge jackets will
be worn on morning walks with muslin
and cotton dresses.
Velvet bonnet-strings are being laid
aside for those of lace and gauze stuffs,
especially gauze ribbons.
The little drawn muslin hats, which
were formerly only worn by children, are
worn by ladies as garden hats this sea
son.
Tunics, polonaises and every kind of
drapery used for figured materials are
equally adapted for flowered lawns and
cambrics.
Jetted zouave jackets, very short and
beaded in small designs, are worn over
waists of house dresses of black silk,
satin or surah.
Pretty white muslin and linen lawn
dresses for misses are made with a fitted
basque that is worn with a belt of velvet
ribbon that has a bow on the side.
A tucked skirt is in good stylo for
oft, thin woolens, and should be made
in lengthwise tucks for older ladles and
in horizontal tucks for young ladies and
misses.
A new industry has sprung up in
Uruapan, Mexico. The famous coffee of
that region is now put up in bottles in
the form of an extract, which is shipped
to all parts of Mexico, and an effort is
being made to introduce it into the
.....
United States.
Christianity is protected as the state
religion in Madagascar. The best au
thorities place the number of Protestants
there at 350,000, and Roman Catholics,
35,000. Education is compulsory. One . ■
district alone makes a return of 100,000
pupils in the schools.