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SM& &UJnJN i evt 4 ■ A .vj-~w, <5*~® Haney Wiggins. THE SMART COUNTRY GIRL A Story of the North Georgia Mountains. BY W. A TOE. CHAPTER III. As ■was the understanding between onr hero ine and her mother, Nancy remained with her cousin until noon tne following day. It was late in the alternocn when she arrived at home where her mother anxiously awaited her return. ‘My sakes,’ said she, ‘how you do look arter your nights frolic, I kin call to mind them days when I used to tend frolics, next day I had the al'-overs, and wejnt no covmt for a week arter- wards. Come in child, atm take a bite thar's nothing like healthy victuals to make a body feel better arter a frolic.’ 'I am sorter hungry mother, though I reckon I feel mighty*nigh as well as I did yesterday.’ ‘Nancy ! child,’ replied Mrs. Wiggins with as tonishment,, what put hit in your bead to call me by this new fangled name, I haint no stuck up body, but I do say our foiks was as proper as any as ever sot foot in these parts, I always called mammy, mammy and dad, dad. Taint no high souuding word, but hit peers to me I like hit much batter than this fancy name given thar parents by them who thinks they is quality. It sounds kinder cold to me to say mother.’ ‘I haint none of them quality toiks and Idont hanker to be like them so powerfully, but I do say they talk a sight batter than weans, ana cause we live shot up in these mountains taint no reason why weuns shouldn t try to mend our ways, and hit does kinder sound better to say mother than mammy.’ •Call me what you will Nancy, and yet hits like giving up something thats been loved way back yonder when we fust larned how to talk. Why thar haint no sweeter word than mammy cording to my liking. Do tell Nancy what put hit into your head to call me mother.’ Nancy was somewhat chagrined at her mother’s words. The expression of Henry Crawford continually traversed her mind, ‘your manner of speech is so peculiar I really could not retain wy composure.' This phrase awak- ' ened a desire not before aroused. ‘I will learn, she resolved, ‘and be as the} - are.’ Her resolu tion caused much apprehension, mingled with pain—apprehension, tearing that tnose who had known her from infancy would deride at her, as one of their sect appearing atter the ‘quality folks.’ Like her mother, fond memories clus ter around the dear old name ‘mammy a name sacred with time, as old as memory. Do not censure stern reader, the weakness ot our heroine, like all humanity she possessed human fraility, human pride. The powerful weapon sarcasm had been used awakening a feeling of inferiority never acknowledged beiore, arousing a desire to shield herself troin like ridicule and contempt. ‘Peers to me Nancy, (said her mother after remaining silent expecting an answer for many moments) ‘that you haiu t got no reason for changing my name, it you has you non t want to tell. I reckon these quality folks at the Squire’s been snubbing you, haint they child i •No mother they «ida't, for they haint had no chance, cepting the young lady did kinder laugh when Mrs. Squire Crawfird called my name.’ ‘Why haint your name as good as theirn ? ’ ‘Mother I haint caring about her laughing. She dresses mighty fine, but I've seen many a gandy bird that wernt no use cepting to look at. I reckon howsoever we do peer a queer lotto them, being they has a powetful sight of edeea- tion, I do like thar way of talking bettern our’ns, and as soon as I git the chance ‘1 m gwine to learn.’ ‘I do say if your gwine to this frolic has'nt put lots cf new idees id your head - Here you have been living contented and happy all your life, following the ways of the people, and now all of a sudden you wants to git above your people and he like these quality. Let me tell you Nancy the sooner you git these high no tions outer’n your head, the better for you, becase you baint made for no fine lady. Thar never was one of them high-fiyers in the Wig gins family and I never wants to see none of them thar, we works for our bread and thanks Clod for giving hit to us. Hit these not ojs outern your head Nancy;they haint gwine to do yon no good.’ This positive language apparently harsh, grated upon the feelings of the young girl. Overcome by contending emotions, tears filled her beautiful, candid eyes. ‘Mother, said she ‘I dont want you to think I am proud or stuck up. I haint going to consider myself any ways better than our neighbors, cause 1 wants to learn, and he like these city folks, taint do reason I'm gwine to be unmind ful of all thar kindness, and if I do git learning twont make me love you no less.’ ‘Dry them eyes Nancy, you knows you is all I'v got to love in this world. W T e wont say no more bout this; you follow your own heart my child and God grant you may git happi ness.’ She said this folding her daughter in her arms. This conversation was engaged in while Nan cy was eating supper atter attending to the many household duties. She soon after bade her mother good night and retired to her room, The events of the twenty four hours past, were such as awakened painful redactions. For the first time she had opposed her mother’s wishes. True she had not positively forbidden her not to pursue the course new and of recent contempla tion, yet her words of warning clearly indicated that her desire was that her daughter should cast aside this ambition. With such reveries Nancy felt little desire for the rest her bodily fatigue demanded. At length however nature demanded relaxation, and sleep, that great restorer and tranquilizer, rested upon her eyes. During the afternoon of the second day after the entertainment at ‘Squire Crawford’s, while Nancy was carding rolls of snowy cotton that her deft hands would soon fashion into thread at the old fashioned spinning wheel, her mother came in hurriedly, exclaiming. ‘Run Nancy and fix up.loi if I haint blind 1 see them young quality foiks from the Squires ccming this way. My sakes! how that young girl is fixed up, I haint seen the like since I came to these parts, she looks like them folks in the pictar books, or I haint no judge of things I see’s.’ Nancy obseived from the window Miss St. Clare and Henry Crawford approaching. Her mother’s criticism was not extravagant. Miss St Clare appeared most attractive, her well fitting riding-habit and graceful attitude as she poised her sylph-like lorm upon her spirited horse presented a picture worthy ot admiration. She was laughing and saying to her young es- C °‘Well, you are here at last—at the home of your mountain beauty. Be on your guard, Sir, playfully shaking her riding-whip athl “’ r ®7 member you owe allegience to a young Y , my acquaintance. HI bite my lips till the blood comes trying to keep from laughing at her uns’ and ‘you-nns,’ I’ll set it down to your ac- C °He t iaughed a little in turn, but said gravely, as he helped her to dismount: ... t ‘I trust, Agnes, that you will do nothing «to hurt the feelings of these people. I am going to try to make amends for rud th^nkes ‘Well well! I’m powerful glad to see the likes [ you at my poor house; how do you do Miss St Clare, and you Mr. Crawford, We don’t want no introduction to each other; mv Nancy knows who you be and wiil be powerful glad to see you. Como right in. Nancy was kinder took back by your coming unbeknownst to her; how- somever, she haint goin’ to keep you waiting no long time. Sh«’s mighty peart in fixing up. Ret right down; don’t stand on no ceremony. We uns is plain folks in these parts, and don’t set eyes on you quality folks every day. Jest make yourselves at home, I’ll be back shortly.’ So said Mrs. Wiggins as she led the way to the reception room, and then, ducking a little curtesy, disappeared. ‘Arter your long ride I calculate you-nns wouldn't mind taking a bite,'said she. returning in a moment, bearing a waiter with cite and wine upon it. ‘This cake didn’t rise like hit orter. I calculate Nancy was rather slack in working the dough, howsomever. I’ve seen worse cake than hit ar, if I do say it. You haint drunk no better wine than this ere, if I did make hit. Do take some, Miss; thar haint nothin’ in hit to hurt, nothin but the clear juice of the black berry with a leetle sugar. I never jined the | temperance folks, because it ’pears to me that | them that jine haint no better than them that ; don't. Thar was Giles Wilkins, he was the powerfnlest drunkard I ever seed. Them tern- perancers got holt of him, and kinder circum navigated round and about till they got him to take the pledge, fc Giles was the most booklarned young man in these pirts, them days. Borne folks did say he could read a sight better than Deacon Brown. But that haint got nothing to do with Giles and the temperance pledge. Well, Giles stuck out three days; howsomever, on the third day, old Airs. Lirkin, his grandmauimy on his mammy’s side, was put under ground. Giles went to the funeral drunker than a rabbit in a collard patch. Them temperaneers said, ‘If hit hadn't been fer the excitement caused bv the old lady's death, Giles would a been a tem- peranc r all his days.” ■Did ihe gentleman die of inebriation ?’ in quired Miss St Clare gravely, but with a malici ous twinkle in her eyes. Airs. Wiggins looked upon her visitor for many minutes in blank astonishment. ‘I calculate you means, Miss, to ax if Giles died from too much liquor? I’ll take hit that a- way and answer ’cordiugly. Hit do ’pear to me that I have hearu that Giles died ’way up the country, and hit’s a good calculation to say that liquor had something to do with sending him oil', Aly sakes! how my sister, Sillie Jiukins would laugh to hear you call Giles a gentleman. She knew Giles sight better n I did, and tliuuk him a mighty poor sort of a critter. I do say that when Giles was not liquory he was as prop er a man as the best of them. How o never, he’s dead and gone, and I calculate the good Lord haint gwine to judge him like we-nns do.’ Nancy cauie into the room and greeted the strangers politely, there was, however, a marked restraint and diffidence expressed upon her face as Henry Crawford extended his hand. Aliss St Ciare acknowledged her sa'utation with a formal bow. ‘Will you accompany me to the terrace yon der? I would be delighted to view the sur rounding country from that elevation.’ Nancy bowed her consent, aDd they arose to leave the room. ‘Will my society be an intrusion,’ asked Miss St Clare smiling. ‘Come if you will,’ said Henry Crawford. ‘No, replied the young lady, ‘I will remain with Mrs. Wiggins. Do not, however, allow the entrancing prospect to detain you long. Air. Crawford, or I will be necessitated to interrupt your tele a tele.' It was indeed a grand prospect that presented itself to the beholders on the terrace. As far as the eye could reren were to oe seen valleys, un dulatmg plains, capped by the mountain bights. In the far east the range of the Blue Ridge mounted upward appearing as if their ether like blue commingled with the blue vault above. Unsurpassed w in grandeur, uneq ialed in beauty is this almost unknown mountain region of Georgia. Henry Crawford and his companion remained sileutly gazing upon the prospect stretched be fore them. With a mind capable oi' grasping the abstruce sciences, he had made the study of nature and nature’s laws a part of his daily thoughts. Recently graduated at the Slate’s University, his visit to his uncle was alike one of pleasure and mental profit. ‘When I look upon these sublime evidences of creation,’ (bespoke aloud as if in self-commu nion.) T wonder that men should interpose their false theories between those unmistakable evidences of a great, intelligent source from which all creation emanated.’ Then, observing the bewildered face ol his companion, he said: ‘Pardon me, lam often alone; I have therefore acquired the habit of expressing my thoughts aloud. Hero,’ he continued, ‘is the book I spoke to you of at my uncles. I trust you may have as much pleasure in reading it as I did,’ he with drew the volume from his pocket and gave it to Nancy. ‘I am afeared,’ she replied, ‘my scant learning wont low me to understand it.’ •You can, when alone,read this hook and mark each expression you do not entirely understand and when I eeme to see you again we will stu dy it over together. Two heads are better than one, you know, and we will try if we cannot un tie the knot between us.’ She knew Do put it thus nicely through kind ness and smiled frankly in his face as she ex pressed her willingness to be taught, adding ingenuously: ‘I kinder think I would be glad it I could be as book learnt as some.’ •I shall be happy to help you in any way I can. When I come again, we will fix on some plan. I should like to teach a pupil so apt as I think you will prove.’ ‘Do you think sure enough I could learn fast ?’ ‘I do. I believe you have a superior mind. It would give me pleasure to see it polished and well informed.’ ‘I should like it first rate if it wouldn’t make me proud and stuck-up. I couldn’t bear to hurt the feelings of mother and onr neighbors.’ ‘It will not make you proud, you have too much good sense and too kind a heart. You wiil be sure to remember that we are all one great family; and in God s eyes the learned and the ignorant are alike. AVe will have a long les son when I cal! in .a day or two. As it is getting late, I must bid you good-bye." As they returned to the house, Miss St. Clair accosted him at the door. ‘It is well for you, Air. Crawford, that you re turned this moment, for I was in the act of ap pearing before you to warn you the sun would soon sink behind the mountains, and tnat our journey numbered many miles.’ ‘I am sorry I have taxed your patience, but I have been away but a lew minutes. We can make up the time by a brisk canter.’ They were soon on their way. In silence they rode some while. Alias St. Ciair was first to speak. ‘I would ask you, Mr. Crawford, why you have exhibited in manner and words recently, a dis regard for me ?’ ‘What do you mean, Agnes? Where have I been unmiudfal of my position as your friend and aunt’s nephew ?’ ‘You do Dot care to consider the other relation existing; perhaps you wish to forget that I am your affianced wife. If this be your desire, Mr. Crawford, I will readily release you from this unpleasant engagement.’ ‘Agnes ! I am surprised at your anger. You will not impugn my motives without giving me an opportunity to defend myself or remedy the conduct you complain of.’ She did not reply immediately, Her beauti ful eyes drooped with pri and chagrin. At last she sai 1 vehemently. ‘Do I not see you prefer coarse, ignorant girl’s society to mine ? What can you see in this illiterate creature to interest you? She is coarse in manner and speech. I do wish I had never made auntie and uncle this visit, I will not remain to be treated as nobody by these rude people and their better educated, but more heartless friends.’ •Agnes, said he interrupting her. ‘Is it kind, to speak with scorn of this unoffending girl, j because jon are angry with me ?’ Y am sure I will not grieve to lose the love of a man who can become infatuated with an igno rant country girl possessing the euphonious name of Naricy Wiggins. I wish you joy Mr. Crawford, and trust your lovely, well-be-loved country sweetheart may compensate you for your mi alliance; if she wiil deign to bestow her hand upon one of tli8 ‘quality lolk,” said she with bitter scorn. ‘I don’t know what has aroused your anger, Ac/nes. If you think however that these cruel words wiil cause me for a moment to think less of this young lady you arc de rived. If jeal ousy has taken possession of your heart, iet me Iatreat you to banish ic before it destroys your happiness.’ ‘I will not have lectures from you Sir; you may love who you will; I care not.’ ■Do not t ilk so Agnes, I beg you will not de stroy our happiness. 1’es oars, for I believe you do care for my love. Let not this impulse of unreasonable, unfounded jealousy, sever our hearts so neariv united. This is but momentary anger, you will forget it.’ ‘Why do yon, when you know it gives me pain, show such favor to this young girl ? What can you see attractive or interesting in her?' ‘l ean assure you Agnes, I consider my aiie- gience to you sacred. No word or act of mine will ever cause the least disagreement between us. I do feel an interest in this frank, inno- | cent lovely girl. I admire her simplicity, her j candor and her intelligence.’ ‘Intelligence ! ‘Yes, she has a bright mind naturally, and, I j think she would learn with eagerness. Can you not help her Agnes ? I have promised to bring her books and give her soma assistance.’ ‘Excuse me Rir. Oa absurd ! So you are to be tubs captivating, refreshingly candid young girl’s tutor. A dangerous position for so sus ceptible a young gentleman-’ ‘Agnes, this is not the language you should use to me. Do not allow this anger to possess yon entirely, cast; this feeling far from you. It is unworthy of you. I had hoped you had over come your weakness in this respect.’ With a glance at him full of anger, she rode on a head. She had been betrothed to Henry Crawford two years beiore. With a seltiih passion she loved him, and when the promptings of jealousy possessed her, she became a prey to its sting. As the twilight deepened they reached the home of ‘Squire Crawford. Tne occurraaces of the afternoon affecting their spirits with melanchly, and urging upon Henry the fear that had before crossed his mind; ‘is this woman, with all her attractiveness, one whom I can truly respect and love for life ? Is she not wanting in all noble and generous traits ?’ (TO BE CONTINUED.) I of a!! things; all feel tbe heavy oppressive taxi- tion of the present government; and all join in curses not loud but very, deep against the rulers of the country ! One paper, and only one— probably the Imparcial (for all middle-class Spain is radical and liberal to the core)—is taken in far the house (it costs but two farthings) and passed round from room to room. And so a warm fellow-feeling is engendered, and, as we all know from bitter experience, ‘a common love from common suffering springs.’ Once, lying ill in a middle-class house of the kind referred to, I asked for two things—the loan of a little money and a daily paper. *Se- nor,' raid the lady, ‘do you not know that the paper is taken in for the house, and that onr rule ic Spain is that the sick man has it for the j first spell? Why waste a half penny a day upon j the Imparcial ?’ This shows another point—Iho exceeding fru- | gality of the Spanish people—a frugality that no one would believe, were it not advanced on [ authority like my own. The highest lady in j the land"will haggle nine hours for threepence, and burst with witty laughter and sharp repartee when she enters the drawing-room with the three offending coppers in he? tiny white hand. This frugality is seen in everything. The traveller wonders why there are so few buffets in Spain. The answer is, because every Span iard "and Spanish housewife on their journey pack and take their own basket of provision, and so save money. Tbe ministerial organ, the Correspondence, has at the foot of its political j news a novel which appears ffi diurnal portions, j Every pa! erf am'dins gives the paper (it costs two j farthings) to his daughter, and she tears off. i for her own and her mother's perusal, the bot tom part, and hands the remnant to her father for his journey. I have said that, dying and in poverty, I asked for the loan of a little money. The lady said, ‘All lhat you want you shall have; desat ide lis ted—i. e., ‘Don’t trouble yourself.’ This struck meat the timeas exceedingly noble; for I was unknown to her. The llomimfcic Tropics. The Romance Explod^d--a Visit to Ja* maica* PANISH LADIES. The Scnorita in the Sick Room. r cf fVicm tiv what f v ipv..w rt y i /-f f h?.cv‘q • indolence, and want of prudery among the dark eyed daughters of Spain, they have soma noble and endearing qualities. They answer perfectly the description given by the poet in the well known lines beginning 'Oh woman in our hours of ease etc.’ Ministering angels they surely are—these little laughing, humming bird creatures, that seem only fit to make play with their eyes and t'utir ankles and their great jeweled fans. A recent traveler in Spain writes: In AInrcia, during the tropic and very fear ful heats of 1875, when in August the tired field laborers refused to 'work, and those who essayed to do so died, I was wandering, knap sack on back, among the lonely villages of Alur- eia and Valencia. Sunstroke seized me, in a lonesome pueblo dd campo: I had id my breast- packet about twenty pounds in gold, ihe gift of the Times, whose correspondent I then was. Lying down on a few sacks, in the loft of a melon-seller's hut, I gave my whole earthly possessions into the hands of a brown-faced, black-eyed, untidy-looking Mercian hoyden who belonged to the house. Two days afterward, when I essayed to start, at early morning, I found a jug of milk, and—my purseof money intact, laid at my pillow-head. I offered a portion of it, with my grateful thanks. ‘No,’ said the girl, her great black eyes grow ing lustrous with tears of pity and anger; ‘no, yon could not take care of yourself; you were ill, so I and my father and mother took care of you.’ I could hut press her brown fleshy hands with my lips, in token of exceeding gratitude, and resolve evermore to love the people who could thus nobly treat the poor stranger, with his foreign tongue, and his knapsack on his shoulder; who, ill and fainting, sought their humble hospitality, nor sought it in vain. I have everywhere noticed, as a trait of the national character, the exceeding humaD ten derness of tbe people in cases of illness. I say human; but surely the human cannot be sepa rated from the divine, for ancient story and sacred story tell us that the two were once joined together, never to be parted. The Span ish peasant woman may or may not be a skilful nurse; her one rule—and to me it appears a good rule—is, ‘Give the patient whatever ho likes, whatever he asks for.’ Both nurse and doctor believe that the palate, after all, is the best guide, and a God-given guide, and one to be, therefore, trusted. So what you want is given you, the craving is satisfied, and frequently the patient cured. AVhi'te they give you what you crave for, the tender Spanish women bend over your couch and say loving caressing words as they kiss your burning forehead, and wet it with their tears. Another feature I have observed is the ex cessive generosity engendered by common suf fering and the living together under a common roof. In the Spain of to-day the whole middle class is now in a state ol suffering; the lady of gentle birth has fallen in fortune, and the tears of regret for the past and anxiety for the future course down her powdered cheeks (violet pow der is the rule; even your servant powders her face) as she shows you her file of pawn-tickets. Her husband died; he was a general in the army; ho had a pension. Yes, but the pension was never paid—is never paid; and the poor lady parts little by little with all the jewelry that her husband once laid at her tiny feet when she was a lovely Spanish girl; and all the furni ture that has been treasured in the family for twice fifty years. For Spain is the land of heir looms, and to lose your furniture is to many like the loss of life itself. ‘What matters it to me to live; to-day I have sold my locket and my coffer.’ Both rich and poor live, for the most part, a gregarious life; there are few villages, and all flock into the towns. In one house, each room is occupied by a familly, or by a separate tenant. All suffer daily from the decadence of An hour's steaming up a sultry, breathless bay, where even at that early hour the heat proved scarcely supportable, landed us along side the coal-begi-imod wooden quay of King ston. Gracious heavens, what a disenenant- ment ! At one glance the eye takes in the gloomy panorama, and the beautiful tropics have vanished forever. Not Martinique, not Brazil, not Ceylon itself, can ever reinstate that shattered idol. Dead, as hopelessly as the gods of Nepaul, after the rajah bad blown their images from the cannon’s mouth; dead, as eter nally as the great and good Pecksniff after Tom Pinch had waked up in the organ-loft to a sense cf his utter meanness and hypocrisy. In three minutes I am ready to cry aloud, ‘There are no tropics ! ’ and to hold that negative faith with unshaken confidence nntil my dying day. Before my gaze stretches a shabby wooden town, its long streets running straight inland from the water,s edge, unpaved, nnwaUr ;d. un tended, thick in lazy dust, which the 3t a breeze two hours later will drive with eddyir g whirl winds against mouth, and nose, and eye.-., in ir resistible phalanx of penetrating atoms. On either side the street, low, one-storied wooden houses line the road; once painted wli;e, with bright green jalousies, but now dingy gray in general hue, broken by windows of dull-olive blinds. The roofs scarcely stick on their moulding beams, the dirty cedar shingles are overgrown with rank weeds, and give shelter to spurious vulture-looking birds—the John-crow or turkey-buzzard of the colonists—and the whole town has an air of neglected decay, which seems ten times more evident through the blinking, staring sunlight that falls in full force on every squalid detail. Behind the abodes of men a brown, treeless plain runs back for many miles in unshaded hideousness; while in the far background masses of hot basking moun tains close the view, their clear-cut peaks shad owed by no cool or fleecy cloud, but standing out in naked contour against the blazing sky overhead. Squalor, dust, sunlight in abun dance; but no trees, no birds, no flowers, no scenery—in short, no tropics. I put up my white umbrella, and landed on the quay. Ragged, half-clad negroes in tatters and dust stood along the pathway to the cus tom-house; I passed my luggage, waiting mean while under tbe tierce sun; and, when the pep pery officer had satisfied himself that I did not wish to cheat the revenue, and had sworn suffi ciently at his underlings—the climate and the use of capsicums seem to exert a sort of direct reactive influence on the human temper in these Western isles—I turned into the street to seek my chosen hotel. Drivers with ‘omnibuses’ were near in numbers. I engaged one for my self and portmanteau, and, leaving my heavy goods to follow on a rickety dray, betook myself to Colonial Hall, the leading hostelry of the metropolis in which I stood. A Jamacian omnibus is a unique vehicle after its kind. The main portion consists of a square box surmounted by a Chinese canopy in Ameri can leather, and stuck upon four wheels by the intervention of some antediluvian springs. Be tween the shafts a sorry mule walks solemnly along until a blow from the lout-end of the whip (thongs appear to be mere survivals of a once useful structure) rouses him for a moment into a furious canter, subsiding immediately into the original dead-march. Over unmetaled roads intersected by open water-ways, and diversified by occasional hollows known under the graphic title of ‘butter-bowls,’ the negro driver jolts his luckless victim with undiminished composure, observing with a grin after each unusually heavy jump, ‘Alassa from Englan’ doan’t 'cus- tomed yet to Jamaica ro-d; dat nuffi.1 after massa lam to know him ! ’—a pleasing prediction which massa shortly recognizes as no more than the truth. So on we jolt, from one tumbled-down street to another, past groups of chattering negroes, past long rows of shabby houses with no trottoir in front, until at last we draw up at the broken door and shaky wooden steps of Colonial Hall. I am not writing an account of Jamaica, but merely exposing ‘Tne Great Tropical Fallacy;’ and so I will not try to describe the transcend ent horrors of that unrivaled house of intertain- ment. I have traveled in Spain, and I thought I understood dirt but, believe me, I only knew as yet the first rudiments of that extensive sub ject. The floors of Colonial Hall might have been converted into a thriving flower-garden. The servants might have sold their rags to an enterprising manager as ‘propities’ for Joe or Oliver Twist. The loaves of bread might have been transported entire to the entomological cabinets of the British Aluseum. The whole house might have been indicted for a nuisauce by the righteous indignation of the New Cut. I will not dwell upon it, lest 1 should seem to exaggerate, but will pass on to my after-experi ences of the country at large, so far as they cast a gleam of light upon the true nature ot the fal lacy in hand. That tropical towns are squalid and miser able, I suppise everybody more or less believes. I discovered at a later date that Kingston, com pared with Santa Martha or Savanilla, might be considered a clean, thriving, and civalized city. But, to my untutored European mind, it seemed at first sight more frightful than anything I could have believed of Coomassie or Timbuctoo. j I suppose those who stay at home have no idea of what an extra-European town must necessa rily be. At any rate I could not before have believed that there existed on earth a place so wretched, so mean looking, so utterly ban arupt and disreputable, as that in which I then stood. But the country, thinks the unsophisticated Briton, the country must be beautiful! There the hand of man cannot mar the natural charms of green fi Ids and lovely flowers. There the waving sugar-cane, the graceful bamboo, the spreading tree-fern, the mignifieent palms (those palms again !) must m iko a scone o fairy loveliness. There th > oran ; trees, the parrots, the butterflies ah, my hear sir. all mere fancy ! Go and see for yourself, or trust those who h i ve seen. Such things you niyv till i; yon will at Kew Gardens or at Sydenham, but not, I assure you, in the tropics. Men ana Women. W hat, Tltuy him Doint? in the World. Gov. Nidi oils of Lnusiana issued a proclama tion recommending Wednesday, Oct. !):h, as a day ot fasting, humiliation and prayer for de liverance from Hie scourge. The Governor has also issued proclamations offering rewards for the arrest and conviction of the parties who Lung the colored roan Croadheart on the seventh ol September in AVest Feliciona parish until he was nearly dead, and then beat him and also his wife and two children. Also for the arrest of Hie murderers of Thomas Dalton on the 21st ol September in West Feliciana parish. Thomas Greer, while hunting in the coast range somewhere in San Lni Obispo or Aventu ra county, California,'pursued a wounded buck into a wild region of rocky canyon and vertical cliffs. Suddenly became to a deep recess, which made him forget his deer and pore for hours over a remarkable sight. Ua had discovered a school of pictured rocks in the heart of the mountains. Ou the face of the rocks were rude carvings of birds, animals, weapons of war, hum:yi beings and other things, all illuminated with some sort of red pigment, which he took to be ciDnahar. There’s history for some enter prising student. Aliss Belle C. C. A. Hannah is appointed pos - master at Keezletown Ivy. A r ice C. J. Longaere, resigned. Ohio has a hoy with three eyes. Lord help the fellow who goes to see that bay’s big sisters. Sam Fagin, a Floridian of color, concluded that he would wash his hands in the Tampa riv er last Tuesday morning, an ’ while sitting on a log engaged in the act an alligator rose to the surface, his tail within Sam’s easy reach. Sam thought it would be an easy joke to catch hold of the tail, and did so,ancl it seems that tne a;H- gator at the same moment thought it would be a good joke to swallow three or four of Sam’s Angers. Both got away. Gov. Holliday has been trying for some time to borrow, from the banks of Richmond, $200, 000 to aid the Free Schools of AYrginia. So far, he has failed. Miss Mollie Nelson, of Southampton county, Virginia, was accidently shot and killed lay week by Luther Deale. Tramps in the South are burning cottocgins where the proprietors will not pay them $1 a hundred for picking cotton. Mr. AA’iley Tunstall, of Hale County, Ala., has ordered 1,000 English sparrows, which he hopes wiii prove an tflectual cotton-worm destroy er. ‘By the way, Jeems, I ain’t went down thar A iis a seni^nce ascribed to a Congressional nominee in Missouri while at breakfast with a friend. The Coun'y Attorney of San Saba County, Tex., was recently shot at night by a concealed assassin. AVith his dying breath he declared that the Sheriff of the county was his murderer. A man was recently literally cooked in a steam- bat a in ban Francisco, into which he went with out the knowledge of the attendants. He turn ed the gteam on ignorantly, and was first suffo cated and then boiled. The widow O'Gorman, of Goss-Allen prize fight notoriety, has been fined $400 in the Boone Circuit Court, Kentucky, for keeping a tippling-house, and has gone to Chicago to mar ry ‘a retired sporting man.’ A revival is in progress in A’irginia, at the Crab Bottom camp-meeting. A ‘noted infidel’ (Calhoun), who was selling his works on the camp ground, was converted amid the shouts of myriads of glad hearts. Robert Burns’ nieces, Agnes and Isabella, reside near Ayr, Scotland. ‘They live,’ says a tourist, ‘in a little low stone cottage, with thached roof. Everything indicates a lack of this world’s goods, yet is neat and artistic, with flowers and pictures all about the room. They entertained us with talks about their uncle, and showed us some letters which have never been published, and with true Scotch hospitality of fered us some cake of their own make—made of Australian flour which they had had in the house two years; ana three kinds of wine—one of their own make, made from grapes grown in their own little yard.’ A True Incident. Divding the Children. Five weeping children were left orphans the other day by the death of their mother, a widow, who lived on Prospect street. The father was killed at one of the depots about two years ago, and since then the mother had kept tbe family together by hard days’ work. Lack of food, ex posure and worry brought on an illness which terminated fatally, and the children huddled together in a corner of the room, feeling awed and frightened, but unable to realize that death had made them waifs. AAYien the remains had been sent away to Potter’s Field, a dozen women gathered and held a whispered conversation. ‘111 take one of the poor things, though I’ve four children of my own,’ said one of the wo men. ‘And I’ll take another.’ ‘And I’ll take one.’ •And so wiil I.’ Then there was the baby—a toddling boy, who had been rooked to sleep every night of his life, and whose big blue eyes were full of tears as he shrank behind his sister to escape obser vation. As none of the poor women seemed prepared to take so yonng a child, a girl not over ten years old, dressed a little better than other children there, crept into the group, reached out for the babe, patted his white head, kissed him, and said: ‘I will take this one ! I have no brother, and ma and pa will let me keep him. He can sleep in my trundle bed, play with my doll, and they may give him all m3* presents !’ and the girl ran around the corner and rt turned with her mother, who sanctioned all she had said. ‘Come, hubby, yon are mine now!’ called the girl, and he laughed as she put her arms around him and tried to lift him up. B" and by a woman said: ‘Children, you have neither father, mother, or home. Y’ou must'be divided or go to the poor-house. Kiss [each other, poor orphans, and ail kiss the baby !’ They pnt their arms around him, and hugged and kissed him, and they went out from th old house to go in different directions, and perhaps never again to meet together.—Detroit Frse Press,