Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

(Sundown! BY SHALER G. HILLYBR, Jr. Author of tlit Prize Story in the Savannah CHAPTER III (Continued ) ‘Yon are very welcome, Mr. Lockwood,’ she said in a quiet way, ‘to stop the night with us, if you ean put up with or.r poor entertainment. I have known Mr. Geenleaf for many years, and I am so nnfortnnate as to owe him a sum of money, I forget the amount, with two years in terest. Perhaps you have the note with you ?' I told her that I had it; and then, after speak ing of Mr. Greetthafs necessities, mildly urged that if she could make even a small payment on the note at this time it would be acceptable. I spoke then that I might getovsr the disagreeable part cf my visit at once, believing that my hoR- tess, as well as myself, would feel relief only af ter this business wa« disDosed of. ‘lam very sorry, Mr. Lockwood,’ she answer ed, very sorry that 1 will not btahle to pay Mr. Greenleaf any part of that debt this winter; un less. indeed, he will take a mule or some of my land for it? ‘Mr. Greenleaf has more of land and mules than he knows what to do with.’ I answered. ‘But let us change the subject for a little spaee, we may recur to it again. Miss Goldie, I bear a request to yon from the daughters of Mr. Greenleaf; it is that you will make them a visit; not a flying one of one or two days, but that you go prepared to stay several weeks. One of them would have written to you, but thoy did not know, nntil I was ready to start, that I would probably see you.’ The youDg lady, I had observed; was neatly, yet simply dressed. I know not now, nor pe"r- Laps did I know then, of what material was her dress. I only know that I was impressed by its neatness, and that it showed to the best advan tage a well-rounded, graceful form. There was something about her in striking contrast with all else in the room—it was the freshness of her youth. There was the bloom ot perfect health in her face, the elasticity of young life in her every movement. Her complexion wos clear, her eyes dark brown, and her hair luxuriant and black. In the fol Is of the latter she had fasten ed a white rosebud. ‘I would be much pleased to make such a vis it,’she answered quietly, ‘but I cannot.’ ‘Don’t decide too hastily,’ I replied. The young ladies a:e expecting friends from Macon. They will give a ball soon after the arrival of their friends, which they expect to be followed by others. In fact, the young people of Cuth- bert are looking forward to a gay season. You will change your decision now, and say that you will go ?’ •No, I cannot change it,’ she answered. ‘I am mnch obliged, however, to Clara and Lotta for thinking of me. Please tell them so.’ ‘The truth is, Mr, Lockwood, she has nothing to wear, and I am not able to snpply the things needed without going in debt for them, which she will not permit me to do.’ ‘No, we must make no more debts,’ said the girl in a low tone. ‘Ah, me!’ said the mother, with a sigh, ‘things have sadly chRDged fsince Mr. Goldie's death. In his lifetime we had everything in abundance and something to spare. But since then, now about five years ago, everything seems to be go ing wrong. Each year I make less than the year before. lam sure,’with another sigh, I don’t know what is to become of u».’ •Yon make a comfortable living - are you not doing well to do so ?' I asked. ‘Comfortable, do yon call it? Well, I don’t; and each year, as I said, it grows less so. Be sides I should be making something to pay on my debts.’ ‘You owe then more than this note to Mr. Greenleaf?’ I said irrquiringly. *' ‘Yes, I do,’ with a little hesitation, I thought, ! bnt she lost this as she went on. *1 owe a gen tleman in the neighborhood, Mr. Stephen Swet- well, several hundred dollars, whioh he has from time to time advanced me.' •You do not then know the exact amount ?’ ‘No, I do not.’ ‘What rate of interest do yon pay on this mon ey?' I asked, at she risk of showing an undue in'er st in her affairs. But her reply showed that she did not ill-judge my free questioning. ‘I do not know, indeed, I signed the notes without reading them.’ I did not reply immediately for I was consid ering the condition of this family—it was the same with nearly every one in the country— thev were rapidly approaching insolvency. ‘You are nola poor woman,Mrs. Goldie,’ I said atleDgth. ‘Here yon have aronnd you some two thousand acres of land that were once pro ductive; you have six or eight mules, wagons, plantation-tools, etc., a comfortable bouse, com- : o tably furnished, and yet you can't make a liv ing.’ Both mother and daughter looked at me with surprise, but I went on: ‘Your condition is that of a gTeat many, per- hsps of a majority of the people of this section. With lands that will produce any and everything whether to eat or to wear, with a climate propi tious, and with labor abundant, our people are growing poorer every year; they have nothing to wear, or to eat. Yes, it is fact, and very often an inconvenient one to me, that our people have nothing to eat. Have I no*, time and again, sat down to supper when there was nothing upon the table but a dish of fried bacon and pones of corn bread ? Sometimes there is coffee, more rarely there is sa_ar to go with it, and more rarely still is there milk or cream on the table. As for butter, I have almost ceased to look for it. To have a country honse where all these things, except coffee, may be had, with many more I have not named, and yet have none of them, shows a lack of energy, or a want of manage ment, that is, to say the least of it, lamentable.’ I noticed while I was talking, a serious ex pression come into the faces of my auditors; the mother’s looked perplexed, while a flash over spread the daughter’s. I say I noticed these changes, yet my notice of them was casnal, for I was too engrossed with a new idea which had just taken possession of me to speculate about them. After I ceased speaking, the mother rose up, and saying that she ‘must see about Bupper,' leii the room. For the past half hour I bad been watching with some impatience for the announcement that supper was ready, so I was not sorry to see ‘It was you that siid I conld stand an examin ation on these studies, not L’ •Ah ! 6o it was. Well, we will not press the examination. As I was saying, you learned all these things in those precious four years at Stauntcn. What I want to know now is what you have learned in the sixteen passed here.' Xeics. She looked at me in some surprise, and evi dently at a loss how to answer my question, so I went on.’ ‘One thing you have learned and tbat is to ride horseback, and a very fine equestrienne you are. This is a beautiful and useful accomplish ment. It has already been of great service to me, for had your skill as a horsewoman been less, 1 would have been in the Pataula yet, or else been overturned, and perhaps drowned. This is one (htog you have learned—what else? Do you know how to dress and cook a chicken, or how to make good biscuit? Do you know when and how to plant beans and peas and cab bage? Or going out into the farm do yon know when corn is to be planted, when cotton ? I dare say now, notwithstanding you have iivod here sixteen yeais, where you have seen or heard mention made of plows almost every day in that time, that you eanrot. tell me what a heel- pin is, or a clivis, nay, 1 doubt if you know the difference between a turning-plow and a sweep?’ ‘Well, if I do not, whi.t then ?’ ‘Ab, Miss Katie, much, much, much ! But I will tell you the rest at another time.’ . Taking np the lamp, I went to a certain large oil painting which, with several others, graced the wails of the room. A while before, when I made reference to painting arid drawing, I had noticed the young lady cast her eyes quickly, but only for a moment, towards this picture. I therefore went to it with the lamp, and pretend ed to examine it with some minntene&s. I say pretended, for I knew very little about pict ures.’ ‘Miss Kate,’ I said, at length, giving expres sion to my conjecture, ‘this picture dots yon some credit.’ ‘How did you know it wr.s mine ?’ she asked, her face showing some astonishment, as well ns pleasure, at my knowledge. ‘1 saw you own it by a glance just now. Yon did so unconsciously, of corns". But, as I was siying, it decs you credit. It has some faults ’ (I could venture to say this much, while it would have puzzled me to have discovered them to her,) ‘but I will not stop to speak of them. I will only say that it teDs this much of you, tbat you can, when you will, work patiently and with diligence.’ She had followed me from the fire-place, and stood before me with a questioning look in her dark eyas. ‘Let us have some music,’ I said, proceeding to open the piano. ‘Will you play ?’ •Suppcse I say that I cannot?’ ‘But you will not say it. The faot is, I really want to know wha. yon accomplished in the four years at Staunton. I know what you pretended to do; I want to know what yon really did. Be- sidts— I dislike to say it, the phrase is so hack neyed and meaningless—I really love music.' ‘ You love music ?’ she repeated archly. The only rbyhm that you love has a loga before it, has it not?’ ‘No, I have no taste for the higher mathemat ics—because, perhaps, I learned first to inflect a mo. By the way, translate for me amos ?’ ‘You love,’she replied promptly. ‘You are mistaken, I think.’ ‘Thou lovest, or you love, you do love.’ ‘Yon are at fault, I am quite sure,’ I again an swered. ‘I will look up my grammar,’ she said, ‘that will settle it.’ ‘It is not necersary to introduce evidence,’ I rejoined. ‘I am an old bachelor of thirty years’ standing, and surely ought to know whether, or not, I am in love’’ ‘But that was not the question,’ she said, smil ing, yet blushing slightly as she spoke; ‘at le!:st it is a question which I cannqt__dispnte with jfru.’ — ‘Perhaj g not. But the piano is waiting tor you. Wlun you play for me, Miss Kate, don’t expect me to stand by and turn the leaves far you, neither expect me to make complimentary or other remarks at the end of each piece. Take your seat, select such pieces as you can play,and play them; leaving me to enjoy them in my own wav.’ But ere she could take her seat at the instru ment the long-looked for summons came. As we went towards the dining-room I let her know thet I would ex( ect her musical entertainment alter supper. At the tea-table I was made acquainted with another member of the family, Mrs. Goldie’s on ly son, Master George, a lad about twelve years of age. After we had taken onr seats, Miss Kate hand ed me a plate piled with pones of corn-bread. ‘Heie is your corn bread,’ she said. ‘I sup pose mother thought that you had become so ac customed to it in your travels that you could not do without it tc-r.ight. ‘Thank you,’ I replied, helping myself. ‘I love plain corn bread alwaj s when I have good butler to go with it.’ ‘But you will not have that here, I fear,’ she answered, glancing over the table. ‘No,’said Mrs. Goldie,blushing; ‘I sent George to a neighbor s to get b:.th milk and butter, bat he came back without either. And it happens that wo are without flour, so I am afraid that you will make but a poor supper, and that too, after waiting so long for it.’ I now saw how I had innocently caused my kind hostess much unnecessary troublo by my remarks to the parlor. Sorely vexed with my self lor my heedless blundering, I hastened to make her feel easy, if it were still possible. ‘Mrs. Goldie, we do not need flour when we know how to prepare and cook Indian corn meal. These brown pones, those lignt muffins, and those well turned batter-cakes, with this iried ham and red gravy, would bo enough to tempt a much less hungry man than myself. Bui wh> n wo have in addition to these, a cup of good coffee, and the fragrance arising from this tells me that it is such, it would be strange, I assure you, if I failed to make a most excellent supper.’ Sue seemed reassured by my words, yet an swered: ‘Though you talk thus, Mr. Lockwood, yet you caunot understand why our country people are so often without such things as milk and but ter, chickens, egj.s, etc.’ ‘I thonght 1 understood it,’ I replied. ‘I thought it was because they did not try very hard to have them.’ ‘Well, well,’she said, with something like a ‘How has he made it?' I inquired. 'I know nothing exoept what I have heard,’ she replied, ‘for I have never yet been in his store. He sells whiskey; his customers, for the most part, are negroes, and he takes his pay in cotton, corn, or any other farm product they may bring him. These transactions usually oc cur at night Those who say this arc very "bit ter against him, accusing him of enconraging theft and of doing everything else that is mean.’ •And they are right, too,’ put in George with some emphasis. ‘Comp, Geordie, don’t be too quick to speak evil of your neighbor,’ said his mother with ad mirable consistency. ‘You know that when I spoke to Mr. Swetwell about it, he laughed—’ ‘Smiled, you rneaD, mother ?’ said George, in terrupting her; ‘he was never known to laugh.’ ‘Weil,(smiled,and said they were all mistaken, that old Levi was at heart an excellent old fel low, and perfectly upright in all his dealings; at least lie had found him so.’ CHAPTER IV. A Rift in the Cloud. After tea I returned lo the parlor, where I was soon joined by Kate and George. The face of the young lady still wore the serious expression I had noticed a* the'^ upper table. •Who is this Mr. Stephen Swetwell, of whom I heard your mother speak just new?’ I asked, when they were seated. 'He is a sweetheart of sister Kate’s,’ said Georgs, gravely, as if he were really giving me the.inforrnat'on I had asked for, yet a mischiev ous spirit that I could see lurking in bis eyes showed his object to be to tease his sister. ‘Don’t b9 silly, Ueorge.’said Kate, with a slight curl of her lip. ‘Excuse me,’ he replied, *1 suppose I should have said, ‘an admirer of yours.’ ‘You should have said nothing of the kind.’ •Well, then, tell him yourself; it seems you object to my way of doing it.’ ‘Yes I do object, to it. Mr. Svetwell is a neighbor of ours; he is about twenty-aight years of age, and lives, I believe, by himseif. Teat is all I know of him, and—it is enough.’ ‘Yon believe he lives by himHeif?’ said George, with something like a sneer; ‘you know it, and you know too why it is he lives by himself. It is only because sister Kate— ; ‘George,’ she said warningly, and with a slight frown contracting her pretty brow. But he went ou without heeding her. ‘It’s only because—eh ter Kate knows it as well as I do—nobody has yet consented to live with him.’ Kate drew a sigh of relief, while George broke into a little merry laugh. ‘You are mistaken, George,’ said the sister, ‘in supposing me acquainted with Mr. Swet- well’s affairs; I know nothing about them.’ ‘Of course not,’ answered the boy, ‘I wouldn’t know, if I were you. Bn* I’ll tell yon, Mr. Lock- wood, all about him. He is one of your good, pious fellows; he goes to all the meetings, prays in public—he can pray loud, too—sometimes he exhorts, and he has a class in the Sunday school. Oa Sundays you can see him ‘brothering’ about among the men, or shaking hands with the ‘sis ters.’ He likes this last the best too, I’ll bet, especially—’ ‘Your description is rather long, George,’ in terrupted the sister, ‘I am sure you weary Mr. Lockwood with it.’ ‘On the contrary,’ I answered, ‘I am mnch in terested; let him go on.' ‘Well, I don’t like him,’ continued George, without waiting for any sigDal to proceed, ‘he comes palavering about here, pats me on the head, and says I must be a good boy. (lu an af fected drawl.) Now ma likes him, wlr n he comes round her with his ‘sister Goldie’ this, and ‘sister Goldie’ tLat; why she thinks every thing he says is just right, and so it hss come about that she is constantly asking his advice about QJifi thinajand^^pAo?.’ _ Jnst then Mrs. Goldie entered. When she learned who was the subject of our conversation, she said: ‘Yes, Mr. Swetwell has been very neighborly. Were it not for his advice and help at times I really do not know what would have become of ns. Ho is not only a pious young man, Mr. Lockwood, but a very industrious one. There is no one in all this section more prosperous than he is. He makes money every year, ~ longer than yon can sit there to play.’ ■I have no new pieces,’ she oontinned ‘so yon mnst be contented with old ones, most of which yon have, no doubt, heard many times.’ ‘Music loses nothing by age,’I replied. ‘As a general rule, I enjoy that most with which I am familiar.’ She turned again to the piano and sang several songs, most cf which I had heard snng with the same beauty and pathos as on that nigbt. Her voice was peculiarly clear and full of melody, and capable of giving expression lo the accurate conceptions she bad formed of her pieces. She took me at my word, and played and sang piece after piece without wail ing for me to make any comments, nor* evident ly expecting me to make them. Whan she had be* n at the piano about an hour and a "half, she got up, laid aside her music sheets, and resum ed her seat in front of the lire. ‘Miss Kate,’I said, ‘let mo assure yon that you did : improve some of the time yon spend in Staunton. The hours you devole 1 to paint ing and music, especially the latter, were well employed. ’ ‘Why. I thought from your remarks before supper, tbat you rated snch acquirements but lightly,’ she said, with jnst a little surprise, real or effected, expressed in her brown eyes. ‘You misunderstood me; you will understand ma better after awhile. Consider these accom plishments as things of real value, as talents placed in your hands to be some day accounted for, aud then consider how yon eau well and wisely nse them. By a proper use and cultiva tion of them yon cannot only add to your own pleasure, but give pleasure to your friends. But you have other gifts tbp.n these, Miss Kate, which can be of far greater service to your friends and yourself at this present time.’ ‘I do not understand you,’ she said, turning on me her tine eyes, with an earnest look of in quiry in them. ‘Yon have courage, determination and a well- balanced mind,’ and then, to give my words greater force, I repeated them—‘You have cour age, determination and a well-balanced mind, and ir addition to these you possess industry. Now you ask what can you do with these? Why, they can accomplish all things. Your mother has here what was once a tine estate. You see how, year by year, desolation is creeping upon it. In a few more years, a very few, it must be come a waste, and hope’essly loaded with debt. What is nee led to arrest this desolation and to make its waste places to again blossom as the rose ? A mind to direct and the courage and will to execute. Your mother cannot do this; her age and all the habit3 of her life render it impossible. Your brother is yet too young to undertake it. There is no one to do it but your self. •Why, Mr. Lockwood,’ said Mrs. Goldie, ‘what would you have the child to do ? She surely caunot do a man's part on the plantation ?' ‘No; but if she does her own part all will yet be well. She is lacking experience, yon will say; she will rapidly acquire it. One tenth of the lime she devotes to painting and music,and used with the same diligence, will make her familiar with all the details of farm work. George can assist her in many ways, especially in look ing after the stock. Perhaps, too, you have some near neighbor, an experienced farmer, who would gladly give her advice when called upon.’ ‘Yes, there is Mr. Swetwell,’ suggested Mrs. Goidie. Kate made no reply to the suggestion of her mother, yet the curl ot her lip as the name of Swetwell fell upon her ear, plainly revealed how far she would be from calling upon him for ad vice or assistance. Her face had in it an earnest look, as if she were debating with herself some not-easily solved problem. And yet a skilled physiognymist might have seen there that the question was already decided, and that its seri ousness was due rather to a contemplation of the duties aod responsibilities arising from that decision thur *o any doubts as to the protniia&y of her making it. I was looking upon her and entertaining in my mind some such thoughts as these, when she turned to me and said: ‘Will you tell me, Mr. Lockwood, something more of this work yon have called on me to do. You have spoken of it to general terms, will you please give me the details of a part of it at least, that I may know how to start.’ I wi s glad indeed to hear thi3 request, so lost no time in complying with it. After giving an ,u»u LIO AO. UC Luanva UiUUD V D,CIJ , CtU. EV- , - - 1J — ery year he buys more land and still has money ! account ot the nature of the work to be done, I . *"« v « t. « ..... ... V I (i 11 ;1 AAii unmn riinfci na 4 r\ tbn manner m xxr h ■ /• h if to lend. I don't see how it is,’ she sighed, ‘that I ac ^, e ?u 0I ?t as 10 m ?l'P er *9 which it Mrs. Goldie leave, secretly hoping she would sigh, ‘I don’t know bow it is, I only know that hurry forward operations in the kitchen. ‘Miss Kate,’ I said, somewhat startling that young lady, who, with her hands crossed, sat gazing into the tire, ‘how old are you ?’ You need Lot mind telling an oldjbachekr of thirty. ■Mind it? Why should I mind tel tog you or anv one else? I am twenty.' •All of your twenty years, except a few passed at school, yon have passed at this place, I sup pose ?' •Yes, I spent four years in Staunton, Virginia, the rest were passed here.’ ‘In those four years at Stsnnton you learned, doubtless, to play on the piano, something of painting and drawing, and acquired a smatter ing Latin and of French. Besides these accom plishments there was the regular currioulnm, embracing the higher mathematics, rhetoric, logic, astronomy, the natural sciences, mental and moral philosophy. These, of courts, you mastered, and, without doubt, can stand a cred itable examination on them even now. By the wav, what is an isosceles triangle?' while we once had all these things in abundance, we now find it hard to got oven the necessaries of life.’ After a short silence I thought to change the subject by making some inquiries of one, Levi Fiapp, wLoie note for two hundred and fifty dollars, more than two years past due, was among my papers for collection. ‘You passed his little store about a mile back, dose by the church,’ said Mrs. Goldie. •A short, hump-backed man, whose hair hangs about his head in feather-like tufts, in fact, he has an owlish expression about him? I saw such a one standing in the doorway of the house you mention as I passed by. He bad on a shabby coat that reached to his knees, and was smoking a oharred wooden pipe ?’ ‘That was Mr. F.'app,’ said Mrs. Goldie; ‘he is never seen, I’m told, without his pipe. As for his weartog shabby clothes, if all they say of him is true, there is no need for that. They say h a has more money than any one else in thiB ) part of the country.’ ing so much of one with whom he is unacquain ted,’ said Kate. Mr. Swetwell would certainly j feel flattered did he know how much of our at-1 tention he had claimed to-night.’ So spake this young lady with the intention j of changing the subject, bnt I was not quite ready to dismiss Mr. Swetwell, so I answered, ‘You are mistaken, Miss Kate, I am mnch in terested in this gentleman, s i mnch so, that I will now ask George to give me a description of his person, that, should I chance to meet him, I would recognize him.’ ‘Well, sir,’ began George, evidently glad of the opportunity for this portrait making, ‘he is rather above medium height, quite fleshy, with dark hair, and grayish eyes. But it is by his complexion you can recognize him more readily than anything else; you would expect it to bo | ruddy, but it is of a pale, sickly hue, and mot- ' tied—both his face and his hands—with large, yellow soots. H6 has regular features, and wears a beard on his chin. Some may consider him a good-locking man; I don’t. I believe the girls generally think him so. Don’t they, sister Kite?' ‘How do I know what the girls think ? Go on with your brilliant description.’ ‘Thore is not much more of it, only this, he always has a smile on bis face, but I have never yet heard him laugh. That is all, I believe, ex cept that he talks through his nose, If you ever hear him talk you will recognize him.’ George uttered the last sentencejwith a nasal twang, intending thereby to give particular force to that part of his description. It served how ever to elicit a rebuke from his mother. ‘Come, come, George’ she Baid, ‘don’t make fun of *Mr. Swetwell. I doD’t know why you and Kate dislike him so much, when he thinks so much cf both of yon. He is an excellent man, Mr. Lockwood, and I’m sure you will like him if you ever meet him. I was not so sure of that, yet answered that I would be glad to make his acquaintance. Turn ing then to Miss Kate I said that I would like to hear some music. She arose at once and went to the piano, saying, as she did so. that the in- s rument was sadly out of tune, but that she would do her best. George, who had commenced to nod, got np, and remarking something of his familiarity with tbo proposed pieoc-s, having heard them not less than live hundred times, and intimating that he did not care to be bored with them the five hun dred and first, bid us good-night, and went out. I thought I saw a larking desire on the part of his mother to follow his example, fori doubted, not, that the hour at which she usually retired had long passed, but, yielding to her sense of propriety, she kept her seat. The young lady played first several instru mental pieces. I recognized among them some of my old favorites. When she had thus played for some time, asd not a word had been spoken by any of ns, she asked, looking at me across the piano. ‘Are you asleep ? ’ No, indeed,’ I answered, ‘unless to dream is that she seek advice from some experienced neighbor. ‘I need not mention Mr. Swetwell’,’ said the | mother, ‘for I know Kate will never call on him, although she knows nothing would give him more pleasure than to afford sneh assistance. Well, on the other side of us is old Archie Yocuui, who has always been very friendly. Bat what is the use of naming him, or anyone else? You know, Katie, that yon cannot do what Mr. Lockwood suggests. I dare say now, that he was not in earnest about it.’ ‘Indeed I was, Mrs. Goldie. I tell yon, ma’am it is time some one was very much in earnest about this business.’ ‘Is it so bad as that ?’ she asked, looking up now with some alarm exdressed in her face. ‘But what can I, a woman, do ! I have tried to look after my business, and have done the very best with it that I could. What must I do ?’ ‘Attend to your duties here at home Mrs. Gol die, as you have always done. Wo have just ar ranged for some one to attend to the work of the farm.’ ‘Surely you do not mean Katie? Oh, no, no, she cannot do it. What an idea !’ But the face of the young lady revealed that she would make an effort to do it, and I was sure that it would be a resolute effort. Con vinced that nothing more could be accomplished that night, I apologised to Mrs. Goidie for hav ing kept her np so loDg, and intimated my read iness to retire. Mrs. Goldie at once called a servant to show me to my room. As she was doing this, Miss Kate went to the piano to close it. She stopped as she was about to do so, and looking towards me, asked: ‘How long? always?’ ‘Oh, no, no,’ I answered, ‘not for twenty-four hours, but take the time every day to come here and play, if only for fifteen minutes.’ I soon after said good-night, and followed the servant to my room. TO BE CONTINUED. The Three Greatest Physicians. As the celebrated French physieiau Dssmou- lins lay on his deathbed, he was visited and al most constantly surrounded by the most distin guished medical men of Paris, as well as other prominent citizens of the French metropolis. Great were the lamentations of all at the loss about to be sustained by the profession, in the death of one they regarded as its greatest orna ment; but Desmonlins spoke cheerfully to his fellow-practitioners, assuring them that he had left behind three physicians mnoh greater than himself. Each of the doctors, hoping that his own name would be called, inquired anxiously who was sufficiently illustrious to surpass the immortal Desmoulins. With great distinctness thedying man answered, ‘They are Water, Ex ercise and Diet Call in the servioe of the first freely, of the second regularly, and of the third moderately. Follow this advice, and you may well dispense with my aid. Living, I could do FUN. ‘Where will you put me when I[come to» §ee you at your castle in the air? asked a gentle man of a witty girl. ‘In a brown study, she re plied. Every man is a miserable sinner in church, but ont of church it is unsafe to say mnohabon it, except to a small man. ‘Ah,’ sighed a hungry tramp. *1 wish I wrs a hoss. He most always has a bit in his month, while I haven’t had a bitin mine for two days.’ Falstaff a3ks. ‘What’s honoi?’ as though it was hard to tell. But let my wife sit behird another in church, and she’ll tell what’s ou her in less than two minutes. ‘Take back the heart that thou gavest,’ as the gambler said to his pal, who had passed him under the table the wrong card to fill the flush. It is stated by eminent naturalists that the very rats cr.me creeping out of the woodpile and laugh like demons when a woman tries to saw a stick of wood. ‘I never knew a fashionable woman who didn’t think more of a fool than of an upright, sensi ble raan,’ says Talmage. Judgment on brother Tel mage. What makes s> many fi shionabie women think so much of him?’ ‘We have seen a good many cheeky men in onr time, but the follow who owes a three week's board bill and asks his landlady to put blankets oa his bed these cold nights -well, he stands a good chance of being elected to congress.’ ‘When a man goes to the street-corners to tell how religious he is, and how much he loves his church, go to the poor and heavy at heart, and leara there how much that man has done secretly for his fellow-man, before you pats judgment.’ ‘A policeman who had offered his hand to a young woman and been refused, arrested her and took her to the station house. ‘What is the charge against this woman?’ asked the lieuten ant. ‘Resisting an oft ir, sir,’was the reply. She was discharged, and so was the officer.’ A good story is told of a college president, who, meeting on the cars a student whose char acter for sobriety was not good, and whose then appearance evidenced a recent debauch, ap proached him aid solemnly and regretfully said, 'Been on a drunk?’ ‘So have I,’ was the immediate reply. Having been presented with Bosnia, Austria is now fighting for it. ‘To you, John,’ said a dytog man, ‘I will give $10,000.’ ‘Why, father,’ said the son, ‘you know you haven’t a dollar in the world.’ Of course I haven’t!' exclaimed the indulgent father; ‘yon must work for it John— you must work for it!’ •I was never on intimate terms with the pris oner,’ said a burglar who was used as State’s ev idence against a ‘pal.’ ‘He was no gentleman. I've known him, when he was robbing a house, to drink a gentleman’s champagne, and go off with his silver, wishont leaving a card of thanks on the dining-table. He brought discredit on the profession.’ A veraoious old gentleman living on a fash ionable street in Washington, avers that, hear ing a singular noise in the hall of his residence about four o’clock in the morning, he repaired to the spot, and discovered his eldest daughter, attired in the customary 4 A. M. garments, fast asleep and dancing the Boston with the hut- raok; and when he inquired of the fair somnam bulist what she was doing, she replied: ‘lean give you the last quarter of the Blue Danube, the other three are engaged.’ There is a station on the P.ttsburg, Fort Wayne and Chicago Railroad called Hanna, in honor of a deceased citizen of Fort Wayne. A train stopped there the other day, and the brake- man. after the manner of his class, thrust his head inside the door and called out ‘Hanna,’ loud and long. A young lady, probably en dowed with the poetic appellation of Hannah, supposing he was addressing her, and shocked at his familiarity on so short an acquaintance, frowned like a thunder cloud, and retorted, ‘Shut your mouth!’ He shut it. A lady was the mother of a bright little boy about three years old. The whooptog-cough prevailed in the neighborhood, and the mother became very much alarmed lest her boy should take it. One night, after the little fellow had been put to bed and to sleep, a jackass was driven past the house, and when jest opposite Sit np his he-haw, he-haw, he-haw. With a 3hriek the little fellow was out of his bed, screaming at the top of his voice, ‘The whoop, tog-cough is coming, mamma: the whooping cough is coming.’ He didn’t catch it that time CONSUMPTION CURED. An old physician, retired from practice, haring placed in liie hands by an East India missionary formula of a simple vegetable remedy for the speedy a-d permanent cure for consumption, Bronchitis, Catarrh Asthma, and all Throat and Lung Affeciions, also positive and radical cure for Nervous Debility and al Nervous Complaint?, a ter having tested its wonderful curative powers in thousands of cases, has felt it his duty to make it known to his suffering fellows. Actua ted by this motive and a desire to relieve human suffer ing, 1 will send free of charge to all who desire it, tills recipe, with full directions for preparing and using, in German, French, or English. Sent by mail by addressing with stamp, naming this paper, IV. W. SHERaR, 149 Powers’ Block, Rochester, N. Y. LIFE REALIZED. “Life is earnest, life is real,” and the hopes that cheer us, as well as the duties that we bravely en counter, stimulate us to guard the treasure with unceasing vigilance. Therefore vigorous health should be preserved, and as diseases arising from torpid liver prevail in our warm ciimate. we rec ommend for their cure Portaline, or 'fabler's Vege table Liver Powder, the best remedy in the world for dyspepsia, constipation, sour stomach, heart burn. and billiousness. Price 50 cents a package. For sale by Hunt, Rankin & Lamar, wholesale Agents, Atlanta, Ga. . , _. ~ , ... i . . nothing without them; and, dying, I shall not to sleep. Listening to such strains always puts j p, 0 digged if you make friends with these, my me to dreaming. I ean listen, wide-awak, i faithful ooadjutors.’ ASTHMA CAN BECUERD Bead the following certificates and try Dr. P R Holt's Asthma specific and suffer no louger: Smyrna, Ga.. Sept. 15, 1878. DR. IIOLT.—Dear Sir Your Asthma specific relieved my wife in a few hours. Seven mouths afterwards fhe had another attack. It relieved her again in six hours, and site has not had a spell since, (nearly 2 years). She had been subject to it for 13 years, a paroxysm lasting from 3 to 5 weeks, had tried a number ot Physicians aud almost everything that was recommended, but (ouud very little benefit from cither. I have recommended to it a number of persons and never knew it to fail in a single instance, when iven according to directions. From my experience with the remedy I believe it will cure any case of Asthma. Y< tits, REV. A. G. DEMP3EY. Atlanta, Ga„ Oct. 12, 1873. DR. P. B. HOLT,—Pear Sir 'Two years ago my wife had a severe attack of Asthma. A few doses of your asthma specific relieved her and * *-- not had an attack since. Yours, JOHN CRAWFORD. Atlanta, Ga., Oct. let, 1878. DR P. R. HOLT,—Dear Sir:—Yonr asthma epeclte relieved me in 21 hours of a severe attack of Hay Fever. Yours truly. JOHN KEKLY. ryDR. P. R. HOLT, Prep., 26 Whitehall St. jy $1.50 per Bottle. G rporal Noonan shot and killed himself to day at Ft. Lincoln, Dacota. Noonan was th« third husband of the supposed woman who re cently died at Ft. Lincoln, but proved to be a perfectly formed man. jif