Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

rs' . X^S . «*• .<3f„ / Advertiser. Published every Thursday by D. B. FREEMAN. Terms: $1.50 per annum, in advance. OLD SERIES—VOL. YII-NO. 28. CEDARTOWN, GA., AUGUST 12, 1880. NEW SERIES—VOL. II-NO. 35. BRWORD&WALKERi Main St. Cedartown-Ga., 1? YOU WANT THEM PURE AND FRESH. C. G. JANES, ATTORNEY AT LAW, CEDARTOWN, GA. tr Office ID the court House. rebis-'.y JOSEPH A. BLANCE, ATTORNEY AT LAW, CEDARTOWN,'GA. IW First Boon, up Stairs over J. S. StubUs A CVs-Store. Scpt25-ly DRS. LIDDELL & SON, PHYSICIANS AND SURGEONS OFFICE EAST SIDE OF MAI* ST. CEDARTOWN, GA W. G. ENGLAND, Physician and Surgeon. CEDARTOWN, GA OFFICE OTer J. A. Wynn’s where he may be found ready to attend calls either day or night. Janis-ly DR. C. H. HARRIS, Physician and Surgeon, Cedaxtown, ----- Ga. B. FISHER, Watchmaker & Jeweler. CEDARTOWN, GA Haring Just opened out a shop at the store ot a. D. Hogg * co., respeetruly requests the public to call on him when needing work in his W. F. TURNER, Attorney at Law. CEDARTOWN, GA. Will practice In the Superior Courts of Polk, Paulding, Haral-on. Floyd and Carroll counties, special attention given to collections and real estate business. marll-ly DR. L. S. LEDBETTER, DENTIST, CEDARTOWN, - - - GEORGIA. All Dental work performed In the most skill ful manner. Office over J. S. Stubbs & Co.’s. febl9-iy "BEAR YE ONE ANOTHER’S BOBBINS I” Tit Haiti Pimm tt Our M Outs at Ket Cut The People's Mutual Relief Association Is Issuing certificates of membership in amounts from $1,000 to $5,000 op strictly healthy persons, male and female. The plans are SAFE. CHEAP AND PERMANENT. Applications for membership will be received by JNO. W. RADLEY, Cedaxtown, Ga. Partial list of members in and around Cedartown : F. M. Hlght, A. A. Read, John W. Bracken, P. J. Bracken, Wm. R. Craig, Geo. H. Leake, J. W. Barr, Dr. C. H. Harris, J. B. Crabb, W. H. H. Harris, D. R. Monroe, Dr. W. G. England, Jno. W. Radley, J. W. Kilgore, Daniel Walker, D. B. Freeman, Mrs,Nancy Powell, Alex. Dougherty, Mrs. Francis Dougherty, Dr. E. H. Richardson, Captain N. S. Eaves. &pl5-6m Dark clouds had spread across the sky As I roamed o’er the old loved ways, , And through the trees the breezes sighed. While sunbeams hid their golden rays. Oh, all is dark and sad around. And in my heart no light is found ; No more will brightness o'er me spread, For joy is gone and hope is dead !” E’en as I spoke the san shone forth One heavenly smile from out the sky, Teat shed a beam within my breast, And fiom my heart sad thoughts did fly. “Oh, in the gloom that gathers round, Let trust within the heart be feund ; Then*, when the sunbeams gild the lea, Sweet Hope will gain a victory !” A. J. YOUNG, DEALER IN Gins Corn and Rye Whiskies, Wine, and Brandies. Noyes Warehouse - - CEDARTOWN, Ca. SOLE AGENT FOR COX, HILL & THOMPSON’S STONE MOUNTAIN WHISKIES In Cedartown. I keep such Liquors as may be used as a beverage or for medical purposes with perfect safety. JW Give me a call. Good treatment guaranteed. mrl8-ly NEW HOUSE! NEW MERCHANTS! New Goods and New Prices. F. M. SMITH, Attorney at Law and HEAL ESTATE AGENT. CEDARTOWN, GA Particular j ttentlon given to the selling or renting of city prop erty. Buying and selling wild lands a specialty. Parties owning wild lands in Georgia would do w-dl to correspond with me, as I nave app lcatlons for thousands of acres whose owners are unknown. No tax fl. fa. or other bogus title need apply. Look up your beeswax and write me. Terms: Ten per cent, c ratnls8lon on sales. For locating and ascertaining probable value, $1 per lot. For searching records lor owners, so cents per lot. For ascertaining if land Is claimed or occupied by squatter. $1 per lor* Always in advance. To insure attention enclose a 3-cent stamp. Parties owning wild land-i should look to their interests, as many of these wild : ands are being stolen by Fquatters under a bogus title. All communica tions promptly answered. Satisfaction guar anteed to all honest men. JanS9-ly LIVERY FEED, . —and— SALE STABLE! Wright & Johnson Prop’rs. CEDARTOWN, - - - GEORGIA. Being supplied with new Horses, New Vehi cles, Awe are prepared to meet the wants of the public In our line. Jan8-iy JAMES H. PRICE, CEDARTOWN, GA Keeps on hand and manufactures to order MATTRESSES! My work recommends itself wherever used, and is guaranteed to render the most perfect satisfaction. No flimsy material used, no work Blighted. I ask a trial. JAMBS. H. FRICK. teblB-ly. CALHOUN Livery and Sale Stable. FOSTER & HARLAN, Props, CALHOUN, GEORGIA. Having lately purchased the above Stable and supplied It with goodi Horses and a splendid line ot new Vehicles, we are prepared to meet the wants of the traveling public, in our line. Parties wishing vehicles sent to any of the trains on the Selma, Rome and Dalton Railroad or to any other point, may telegraph us, and have their wants promptly ana properly at tended to. FOSTER A HARLAN, Calhoun, Ga. Jan8-tf ISAAC T. MHB, CEDARTOWN, GA., —dealerin- STOVES TINWARE, Hardware and Hollow-Ware, OF ALL KINDS. House-Furnishing Goods A SPECIALTY. Every variety of Job work in my line neatly done. I respectfully solicit the patronage of the public, and would be pleased to have au my friends and customers call and see me when in town. Jan8-ly A. D. HOGG <& CO., MAIN Street, - - - - CEDARTOWN, Georgia, Have just opened a select stock of General Merchandise in their new store, and want all their friends and the public generally to call and let them show their goods and prices. Their stock was bought before the recent rise in prices, and they feel confident of having goods at bottom figures. They have beautiful Dress Goods, Calicoes, Corsets, new styles; Bleach- lngs, Flannels, Casslmeres, Kerseys, Kentucky .Jeans, Hosiery, Gloves, Hardware, Notions, etc., etc. Extra nice Gentlemen’s Underwear Vest Low. Remember tbe place—last Brick btore on South MAIN Street, west side. nov6 ly BAKER & HALL, DEALERS IN GENERAL HARDWARE, SUCH AS ReadyHIade Plows, Plow Stocks, Nails, Iron and Steel, Spades, Shovels, floes, Rakes, Manure Forks, Etc. BUGGY WHEELS, SHAFTS, POLES AND CIRCLES, WHEELBARROWS, SAWS, FILES, LOCKS, HINGES, CHAINS, ETC. We have just opened a Hardware House in Cedartown, and ask a trial in Goods and Prices. We are Strictly in the Hardware Business, and will be prepared to furnish goods in our line as cheap as they can be bought iu any market. ' Give us a trial before going elsewhere. HOPE’S VICTORY. The Mill-Hand. 1.T.MRE CEDARTOWN SCHOOL, J. C. HARRIS, Principal. The Spring Term commences the first Mon day in January and will continue Bx montns. Fall Term opens Rrd Monday in August and continues 4X months. Rates of tuition as cus tomary. The Bohool-room is convenient and comfort able ; Mining thorough and discipline firm. The Principal offers his thanks for past favors, and coalldevuy ask for a liberal share of patron age In tbs future. Reference as to discipline, etc., is made fonNr patrons of this school. ED. E. BRANNON, Dealer in Staple and Fancy Groceries. Chickens, Eggs and Butter a Specialty. I HAVE ALSO A FIRST-CLASS EAR In connection with the Store, which la stocked with the finest Liquors in -town. jan8-tf J. P. DUFFE MANUFACTURES AMD DIALER BUGGY AND WAGON Gilbert Falconer sat in his library, sur rounded by all the aimurtenanreu of wealth —be was the wealthiest man in Brinsley— but his attitude was listless, his brows were drawn; a sharp struggle was going on be tween his heart and his pride. “What has come over me,’’ he muttered. I am as infatuated as any old fool think ing, worrying, fretting, and for what? A beggar maid with a pair of winsome eyes— a beggar low-born most likely. What am I thinking of,” starting up vehemently, “I Gilbert Falconer, who could mate with the proudest m the country to have fallen so low ? What would my proud mother say? How haughty Beatrix. Lenox would sneer. I’ll crush it out. I will. I’m no love sick boy.” But some things are easier said than done, and this was one of them, as M. Fal coner found to his cost, though she was only an operator in one of the mills, a slen der, dark-eyed maiden who, though a beg gar maid, carried her small head, with the grace and pride of a queen. He could never forget the first tune he saw her. Some orders had been disobeyed, but the consequences were scarcely serious enough to deserve the sharp rebuke the irate master gave; and upon an attempt at defence, Mr. Falconer laid his riding whip several times over the man’s shoulders. “Go,” he shonted, with an oath, “and never show your face in this yard again I” It was a hard sentence,for the man had a wife and children, and the master never broke his word or commuted a sentence. As Mr. Falconer turned away, still flush ed with anger, a slender figure passed him, a pair of dark eyes gazed full mto his— eyes that were positively blazing with anger; a rapid glance at the unfortunate culprit skulking out of the gjle, then at nim, showed which way her sympathy lay. “Do you know,” she cried, suddenly pausing, “that that man has a wife and five children all dependent on what he earns here? Surely you did notTnean what you said. The offense scarce deserved such severe punishment. ” Mr. Falconer was fairly aghast at such unparalleled audacity. Never in his life had any one dared to call him to account for any of his actions. “I am notin the habit of consulting the opinion of my employes when I punish im pertinence,” he said sharply. The small head went up into the air with a gesture that would have done credit to Alioe 1-cmiY * “No,” she answered proudly; “hut Mr. Falconer may have something to say about it when he learns what a destitute condi tion that man is in.” “I am Mr. Falconer,” he answered. “I am master of this mill, and punish as I please. ” “You—Mr. Falconer?” Anger, surprise and contempt were pictured on her face as plainly as on a mirror. “Then I have no thing more to say.” And with a slight in clination of tiiehead she passed on her way, Gilbert nothing vaguely that her dress was of the humblest make. Who was she? Such impertinence, bending bis brows at the recollection that she had not asked his pardon at the first hasty word. “A mill-hand with that haughty style ? Bah,” he cried,striding into his office, “she is not worth noticing. She may be thank ful I do not send her away.” For several days it happened that Mr. Falconer was in his office when the big bell sounded release for all the tired souls and bodies m liis employ, and he caught himself looking for a slender figure in a worn dress; then, meeting her one morning coming in the gate, was enraged at himself for having bowed, particularly as the dark eyes were immediately averted. He angrily asked the manager who she was. ‘Eleanor Elliot is the name she gave,” was the answer. “She seems above her position, however, and she does her work very well.” Mr. Falconer almost said I don’t wish her here any longer; then something, an undefinable feeling, checked the words on his lips; he had to “dree his weird." After a while he took to coining to the mill every day, and occasionally walked through the long rooms full of busy men aud women. Once he stopped at Eleanor Eliot’s side and grayely discussed some fabric with the manager, noticing absently the pretty con tour of the small, bent head and the slen der, well-kept fingers. An irresistible desire seized hina to make her look up. Bending down, he stretched out his hand and suddenly—how it hap pened no one could tell—his hand was caught in the machinery. -In an instant all was confusion—in an instant the works were stopped, the wounded member ex tracted, hue all bruised. Eleanor’s fingers bound the lacerated hand up in her own small handkerchief, the master thanking her courteously; then he drove awav in his fine carriage, and did not come to the mill for several days. Some time after the mill operatives had a half-holiday. Mr. Falconer, riding slow ly through the woods Dear ins house, notic ed the flutter of a woman’s dress, rode closer and saw the outline of 9 figure: then galloping to the stables, left his horse, and walked rapidly in the direction of the Bght dress. Nor was he mistaken. Under the shade of a wide-spreading tree, her hat off, her lap full of flowers, the sunlight falling through the leaves on her bonny brown hair, sat Eleanor Eliot A small boy, about two years old, lay with his head in her lap, laughing and throwing his legs about “pro- miscus,” while she pelted him with bloe- ZT* “Oh!” she cried,kissing him “you dear, good little man, what a comfort you are to me.” The leaves rustled; and Mr. Falconer ■me into view. The girl put the child off her lap, and rose to her feet. — ' - - - “he said. it, more welcome than even he knew him self. ‘Yon are perfectly welcome to anything I did," she replied, coldly. Then there was a silence. , “Who is that child?” asked Mr. Falcon er, feeling rather snubbed, making a mo tion to pal the little fellow’s head; bat he shrank away, hiding his face in Nora’s dress. • ‘His name is Willie Marshall,” answer ed Nora, quickly. “His father is the man you horsewhipped and discharged some moqtiis ago, and since then he has never done a day’s work—can’t get it to do. The whole family are living in one room, almost starving. Many a night this poor little creature has gone to bed hungry. Can you realize what it means to be hungry— stalling !—you, who have so much, who has never known what or the semblance of want ? Oh, Mr. Falconer, where God gives so much he surely will require much! You will have to answer lui o. great deal one of these days. Your men, with their and.cutldrcu, are living in hovels that you would not let your dogs occupy. Those hovels are yours; they are paying you rent for them. The ventilation is wretched, the drainage is simple murderous. Some day a fever will, must come, and many souls will be hurried into eternity, and you will have to answer for them all. Oh, surely, rich men’s hearts are like nether mill-stones! ” Her face was flushed, her eyes were shining with unshed tears; she looked love ly. 'Mr. Falconer drew closer. “Tell me what to do,’ he said, simply, trying to keep down a great rush of feel ing. “What shall I do for Marshall? How can I help him ? Tell me." “Repair the injustice you did!” cried Nora, eagerly, drawing a little back. “Give him employment, at once, before the brave mother’s heart is broken, and the poor little children entirely forget the taste of decent food. Pray do it, Mr. Falconer; you owe it to them. ” Gilbert came swiftly close to her, his hands outstretched, his eyes bright, a feel ing stronger than himself—a feeling he did not stop to anaylyze—urging him on. “I will, Nora,” be cried eagerly—“I will without fail to-morrow. Now ask me some thing more, my darling. I would do much more than that for you.” He caught her hand tight in his. In an instant Nora wrested them away. How dare you ?” she cried, in a blaze of anger. “How dare you touch me ? Go away! Ob, you are a bad man. I hate you." ‘Don’t be so unkind to me, Nora,” he pleaded, unabashed. “Indeed, I am in earnest. I do love you. If you would only listen to me—if you would only love me a little." Don’t insult me any further,’’she cried, stamping her foot. “Love you? Why I hate you I hate you I hate you I There—” ‘Hate me, do you ?” Gilbert’s face was drawn and white. In an instant his arms were round her, crushing the slender figure close, while he laid a warm passionate kiss on her lips. Then as he let her go, “Now,” he said hoarsely, ‘ •forget me if you can, hate me if you dare. Wherever you go, through your whole life, you shall never forget me; that kiss shall lie on your bps re you love me.” was deadly pale. ou are right,” she said, slowly, with an effort, and oh, the utter scorn and con tempt in that voice. “I shall never forget you as the most unprincipled, dishonorable man I have ever had the misfortune to meet, and I perfectly loath myself because you have touched me. 1 hope I may never see you again;’’ and catching up the whimper ing, frightened child, walked rapidly away. True to her word, Eleanor did net meet Mr. Falconer again, as she left Brinsley by the afternoon train, going as quietly as she had come, no one knowing her destina tion. And before the day was over the master received a telegram calling him to Inter laken, where his mother lay very ill, so Thursday’s mail train bore him away; but before he left Marshall had been reinstated in his old position, The next news, received several weeks latter, was of Lady Helen Falconer’s death, and of herson’s intention to travel for some time. Nearly a year after Eleanor’s prophecy was fulfilled. A low fever, born of impure ventilation and vile sewerage, broke out in that part of the town where the mill operatives lived, and death gathered in his harvest with retlentless force. Mr. Falconer returned from abroad, and with a rapidly organized committee went from house to house, from death bed to death bed with fear of contgiona, spurred on by an accusing conscience, the words: “Many souls will be hurried into eternity, and you will have to answer for them,” ringing in his ears. At last the current of the disease was turned, the fever abated and measures were immediately set on foot for the improve ment of houses and drainage, when Mr. Falconer was struck down. For weeks his life lay in the balance, the whole burden of his delirium being: “And I most answer for them.” But God was merciful and slowly Gilbert drifted back to life and its responsibilities. Laying back in an easy chair, pale, £ut on the high road to recovery one day he heard a name which sent the blood bound ing to his heart—a name which he had not been able to forget His aiint was talking to a lady friend at the other end of the room. “Eleanor Eliot is one of the sweetest, noblest girls I ever knew or heard of,” Lady Hargrave was saying enthusiastically. “Her father was a clergyman, and dying, left her and a young brother almost desti tute. There was just enough money left, after everthing was settled to finish the boy’s education, and the dear, brave girl would not tell the young fellow how much it was, and has been working hard, very hard, 1 believe, though I don’t know at what, and he does not yet know at what, and he does not yet know how badly off his poor sister is. She is distantly related to the Hon. Mis. Audley, and she asked me to look out for some position for the dear girl.” “I think I know a position that might suit her, ’ said the visitor, “my siBter is looking for a governess for her two little girls, and of course, Miss Eliot being so wall recommended, she might suit.” “I’ll give you the address.” Then Gilbert waited impatiently, while his aunt rung the bell and Parker was dis patched to find Mrs. Audley’s letter; then there was a hunt for the ladyship’s eve- glasse’s. At last the welcomes fell on his on his ear. Two dayB after, sadly against his aunt’s advice, Mr. Falconer started for London, strait to a small, shabby house in a asked eagerly of the who opened the Jonea in its beautiful en< were open, morning service Gilbert was tired and pulse, for which he life long, caused him to enl In one of the pews still face hidden in both hands, one had passed out she knelt there, then rising, came slowly down the aisle. Pale, worn, with a weary droop of the proud little head that made Gilbert’s heart ache, came Miss Eliot. Trembling with nervousness he waited until she was opposite to him, and then said quickly: “Miss Eliot.” Startled, she looked up, saw him, and colored to the roots of her hair, then glanced at the door as if meditating flight. “Don’t go,” he cried, putting out a thin hand. Don’t go. Oh, listen to me. For give me my brutal conduct on that day. I have regretted it ever since. Say you for give me. ” No answer. Her head was bent down. ‘•Nora, can’t you forgivQ me ?” he plead ed. “You were angry with me once for calling you by your name, but I can’t help it dear, if you could only look into my heart and see the love I have for you, the utter longing. • For nearly a year J. have been trying to forget you, and to day I love you better than ever. Nora, can’t you love me?” At the last sentence Nora looked up quickly. “Are you in earnest ? Do you realize who I am ?” she said, with the old proud movement of her head. “An operator in your miil—a beggar, without a home or a friend, save my brother, God bless him, in the world—while you are a rich man ?” ‘Oil come to me,” interrupted Gilbert, stretching out his arms. “If that is your only objection, come to me quickly. My pure, noble daring, 1 know all your self- sacrifice. I am not half worthy of you. Come to me—make me a better man, be good to my people. I know they will bless you when they learn how much they owe to you.” Then in a low,eager tone he told briefly of the fever, and of the entire change in the santitary arrangements at Brinsley, touching lightly on his illness, and passing over his bravery. “And your prophecy daunted me; all through my ill ness it run in my ear, and I hungered for a sight of your bonny face, for a touch of your hand. Nora I” with a sharp ring of pain in his voice, “take back your bitter words; tell me you do not hate me. Even a crumb of bare liking I shall be thankful for, and if you will bless me with your precious love I shall thank God for it. You can make me a better man, a better land lord, a true Christian. All these possibili ties lie in your hands.” Nora’s face was hidden in her hands— she was sobbing. Won’t you answer me?” he pleaded, bending over her. “Only one little word to put me out of supense. My darling, I am weary for you. Come to my arms that are waiting for you.” And she came with a sudden, swift movement, laying her tired head on his shoulder, while his glad arms gathered her close to his heart, and he laid his lips on her forehead with a silent thanksgiving for the blessed boon of this “mill-hand’s love. Hirds In the British Mnioum. Some sensible alterations have lately been made in the bird collections of the British Museum. Hitherto the stuffed birds have all been set up on plain wooden stands, and a more monotonous or unsug- gestive method can hardly be conceived. It is, however, an economical plan, and as such has recommended itself to nearly all our public collections alike; but the inno vation introduced at the British Museum is well worth general adoption, if only for typical species of each family of the bird world. To give instances, a bush of furze all ablaze with the golden blossoms has taken the place of the bare wooden perch on which the linnets used to stand, and in the bush is the egg-filled nest of the little songsters. River weeds, rushes and the marsh marigold form the new setting of the moor hens' nursery, the birds standing at the edge of the Imitation water into which —an old crony of the moor hens’, no doubt —a kingfisher is also gazing from an over hanging branch. The pheasant looks out from a pleasant covert of bracken and blue- balls, with a primrose tuft and dead leaves for a carpet and a briar for canopy. Gulls are seen by the side of their fledglings on the lichen-covered rocks they haunt in the distant Hebrides, and the skylark hovers on trembling wing over the nest with its trea sures, built on the ground by ajtuft of grass, with the mother on the watch beside it. The crested grebes make a striking group, with the male bird flying down to his mate, who, with the chicks about her, stand by the sedge-grown pool; and the eomcrack- ers, young and old, look shyly but happily out upon the spectator from their poppied ambush in the ripening com. All these are a vast improvement upon the old collec tions, where the small birds stand badly balanced and in evident discomfort upon glazed perches, and the larger species aie all set up, “dfccording to pattern,” as if they were being drilled or just being started, one leg forward, for a race. Mortgage, In the whole range of sacred and pro fane literature, perhaps there is nothing recorded which has such staying properties as a good mortgage. A mortgrge can be depended upon to stick closer than a brother. It has a mission to perform which never lets up. Day after day it is right there, nor does the slightest tendency to slumber impair its vigor in the night. Night and day, on the Sabbath, and at holiday times, without one moment’s time for rest or recreation, the biting offspring of its existence—interest—goes on. The season may change, days run mto weeks, weeks into months, to be swallowed up in the gray man of advancing years, but tbe mortgage stands up in sleepless vigilance, with the interest a perennial stream, cease lessly running on. like a hugh nightmare eating out the sleep of some restless slum- berer, the unpaid mortgage rears up its gaunt front in perpetual torment to the miserable weight who is held within its pitiless clutch. It balds the poor victim in the relentless grasp of a giant; not one hour of recreation; not a moment's evas ion of Us hideous presence. A general savage of mollifying aspect while the inter est is paid; the very devil of hopeless^ destruction when the paymeotB fail* Every part of tfiSTHWIft^o!© fSrmerly had especial signiflcaniAlfiSlTO'gilt nob at the top was once a brass basin, with a notch in the side used to fit under the chin to facilitate the lathering and washing of customers. - The barbers were formerly surgeons; at least all the venesection was performed by them. The pole represents the staff held by two persons who were bled in the arm; and the two spiral ribbons painted around it were originally actual bandages—ene for cording or binding tbe am to cause the flow of blood, and the other far dressing the puncture afterwards. The whole was significant of the barber’s twin occupations—-shaving and blood letting. Newstead Abbey. The present entrance-hall of Newstead is part of the old crypt of the Monastery, and is now filled with stuffed animals and birds shot by Mr. Webb iD various parts of the world, for Mr. Webb appears to have lieen a mighty hunter in his earlier days. On the floor we noticed two large blocks of coal with dates written upon them. It was ex plained to me that these were samples of the “black diamonds" which have been found under Newstead during the last few years, luckily for the present ownerof the es tate. Col. Wildman, who bought it of By- rozsruiued hime^f over the property, and was obliged to sell it for less than a third of of what it had cost him. Mr. Webb will practically get the whole estate for nothing and a handsome yearly revenue into the bargain, for he has already made enough profit ont of the coal beneath Newstead to pay for the purchase of it. A seam four feet nine inches in depth has been found on the estate, and it would take generations to work it oui. “If the wicked Lord” had only hit upon the discovery—or the great poet h’mself for that matter! Either of them would soon have made the money fly. At the top of the narrow stone stair case on the left of the hall is Byron’s old bedroom, adjoirning his dressing-room, with the furniture which he used left quite unchanged. Uiere on the walls is the portrait of his servant, Joe Murray, a bluff and hearty looking fellow smoking a long pipe; there also is the pugilist Jackson, in a long-tail blue coat, and got up in “go-to- meeting” clothes, but looking in spite of them every inch a “bruiser.” Byron’s bedstead, toilet service, shaving glass and other articles are where he left them and close by is the “ghost’s room,” where his page slept. These rooms have been describ ed time after time. The library is never shown to strangers, but we were kindly per mitted to see it. it is a long low room over the cloisters of the abbey, and opens on to a balcony, from which there Is a beautiful look out over the green space within the ruined chapel. Here the east window has a very noble appearance and Boataw. n’s grave is also in sight, and many fine trees among them a grand cedar. This is altogether a charming nook. From the library we went through various bedrooms, among others the one in which Edward HI. is said to have slept while on his way to the north, “while yet the church was Rome’s.” We remarked in this room a fine old carved bed stead, withe the date of 1533 upon it. In the day rooms now used by the family there are the Byron relics, described by Irving and others, together with some more recent additions, the most interesting of which is perhaps the cap worn by Livingstone on bis last journeys—old, weather-beaten, mended with twine and telling in itself a touching story of hardship and suffering. The African attendants of Livingstone in his last illness were entertained at Newstead by Mr. Webb and Mr. Stanley with them. A tree planted by Livingstone is in the grounds and another by Stanley. The oak planted by Bjron on one side of the lawn is now a fine large* tree, but is decidedly a disfigurement to the lawn, and no wonder that both Colonel Wildman and Mr. Webb have repeatedly talked of cutting it down. Lord Byron’s dining-room was also the old dining-room of the Abbots of Newstead, and here we noticed two little Chippendale sideboards and eeliarcls which belonged to *Uo prtot awl ora of iII used. Wo observed also a date on the drawing-room ceiling which no one seems to have mentioned— “March 28, 1633.” In the cloisters there is a dark, underground, vault-like space in which the dead of the monastery used to be placed until the graves were ready to receive them. This was chosen by Byron as an excellent place for a plunge-bath and he went there every day. It is a spot from which most people would shrink back with ar kind of horror. The ghost of a monk was said to have been seen from time to tinft pacing up and down these cloisters, and his presence always foreboded evil to the Lord of Newstead. This superstition has not entirely died out, although the owners of houses like Newstead do not like to talk about such tilings. It is a fact, how ever, that there are people living who are willing to testify that they have seen the spectral monk in the cloisters. Where Is the Public Library, A man with weak eyes and green spec tacles came wandering into the office the other day and wanted us to head a sub scription to build a monument over the grave of Brigham Young. We declined. We flatly refused, saying that Mr. Young’s family was big enough to provide bim with enough monuments to reach from the grave half way to Heaven. ‘So you wont put down a dollar?” asked the weak-eyed mam “Not a solitary dollar,” we said, “not a nickle, not a stingy, red cent.” “What.” he replied, in amazement, and here is the very place I expected to get the list headed, right here at the literary cen tre of this busy metropolis. You won’t give a paltry dollar in irredeemable fluctua ting currency for a monument over the grave of the author of Night Thoughts, won’t you? You’ll But we assured him Brigham Young never wrote a line of Night Thoughts, and that the author of that poem died more than one hundred years ago. “What,” exclaimed the weak-eyed man “Brigham Yonng didn’t write Night Thoughts?” “Not a thought,” we said; “he never thought after dark; he went to sleep.” “Well what did he write?” the monu ment canvasser asked. “Never wrote anything,” we told him; “he didn’t know how to write; signed his re ceipts for money with an X, and preached all his sermons ofthand, because he didn’t no liow to make notes. “Well, well, well,” the agent said, “how this world is given to lying. What did Brigham Young do if he never wrote poetry, and couldn’t write, and never thought anything?” “Married,” we said, “married, Didn’t need to think to do that. The less he thought the more he married, and when he died he had so many wives and children that his funeral looked like a foundling hos pital and charity school picnic proces sion.” The man rose wearily and started for the door, pausing to ask: “Where is the public library? I must read up a little on the public men of our day. Strange, passing strange, that I should have got this stranger named Brigham, of whom I never heard before, so badly mixed up with Edwin Young.” Chloride ot platinum. Dissolve the metal in hydrochloric acid, five parts, and nitric acid, three parts. A Florence flask is convenient for this pur pose. When all the metal is dissolved, tranfer the solution to a porcelain evaporat ing dish, and apply heat until nearly the whole of the acid is expelled. Dissolved in water or in either, chloride of platinum is useful for Imparting to brass articles a steel-like appearance. —The Lycoming Tannery, at.Wil- ltamsport, Pa., turns out 26,000 hides a year, and uses in that time 12,000 tons of bark. Pairing; Instinct of Birds. Birds may be divided into three classes, viz., firstly those birds wnich, having once paired, remain together for life; secondly, birds which pair annually; and thirdly, birds which never pair, but are polygam ous. We will take firstly those birds which pair for life. Swallows are an excellent type of this class, returning to their old nesting sites for the same purpose as pre viously. The martin returns to its old nest. But to some this may appear incredible, knowing that these birds perform long mi grations, and may get separated while up on them. Do these birds get finally sepa rated when in large companies they are searching the air for food? or do rooks, starlings, and jackdaws fail to remember the position of their nests? The same in stinct which informs the swallows when to leave the south, in like manner urges them onward to their old nests, and again the same pur of birds will perform the same duties of incubation. We know that the same nesting site will be yearly tenan ted by its former owners, provided they aie left unmolested. This must be by the same pair of birds: for what ornithologist has ever, in the course of bis observations, seen swallows prying about into his barns and out-buildings in search ot some old nest which will save them the labor of constructing one themselves? The time would be so taken up m this search that no brood would be reared. Young birds pair most likely before their migration to us, and search out nesting sites upon their arrival in this country. Ravens, magpies, jackdaws, starlings, house sparrows, several of the Falconidce and Paridce, have all bean known to re turn to their nests of the previous season. The robin and the wren return to their old sites (but not to the old nests) for several years. From these instances it may be in ferred that all birds which return to their old nests or nesting sites for the same pur pose every year pair for life. In the second place, those birds which pair annually. The birds which form this division are the most numerous of any. We have many instances of this class; as a good type, we will take the willow warb ler. W hen these birds first arrive in this country they are never in pairs. But ob serve them a few weeks later; they have all found mates, and are employed in do mestic duties. It is the nature of these birds to build fresh nests every season- and never in the same position or locali ty. When once these birds have left thier nests, and the young can forage for them selves, all connection between the two birds ceases; the nests are abandoned, never to be returned to, and the birds roam about searching for food, very often 'soli tary, until the time of migration arrives. Several of the thrushes are for the most part solitary in their habits, except in the breeding season, while others roam about in flocks, very often the males or fe_ males being predominant, but, as spring arrives, separating into pairs for incuba tion, after which the same routine is again repeated. The chaffinch is the same—in flocks daring the winter, the sexes not at all social; but as the breeding season ap proaches they are again seen in pairs for the propagation of their species. The pigeons, partridges, snipes, plovers, and rads all pair annually. In the some man ner the buntings, larks, many of the fin ches, warblers ail pair in their due season. All these birds’ nests, after once serving their purpose, are abandoned forever. Will the frail little white-throat use yon abode again? or the sand-piper return to the cavity which once contained her eggs? These birds pair annually, and of course select each successive year a fresh situation for the birth-place of their young. In the third place, we will take that class of birds which never pair, or are poly gamous. It is only in one division of our present classification that we can trace those of polygamous habits—in the first section of the Gallinaceous birds. In all birds which are polygamous the female alone i3 intrusted with all care of eggs or young, and she, through a wise provision of nature, is made equal to the emergency. The male shows little or no affection for them. Matrimonial Advice. Marry iu your own religion. Never both be angry at onee. Never taunt with a past mistake. Let a kiss be the prelude of a rebuke. Let self-abnegation be the habit of both. Never allow a request to be repeated. “X forgot” is never an acceptable ex cuse. A good wife is the greatest earthly bles sing. a If you must criticise, let it be done lov ingly. Make a marriage a matter of moral judg ment. Marry in a family which you have long known. Never make a remark at the expense of the other. Give your warmest sympathies for each other’s triala Never talk at one another, either alone or in company. If one is angry, let the other part the lips only for a kiss. Neglect the whole world beside rather than one another. Let each strive to yield oftenest to the wishes of the other. The very felicity is in the mutual culti vation of usefulness. Never speak loud to another unless the house is on fire. Marry into different blood and temper ament from yoor own. Always leave home with loring words, for they may be the last. A Boy Asolo: Sometimes an old man becomes a boy again, though too smart to drop into his second childhood- An illustration of this pleasant tendency was given, not many months since, by an old man, with several millions. He was in the habit of prowling around the office of the insurance company in which he was a director. One morning as he was thus investigating, he happened to come across the dinner pail of the office- boy. His curioaty led bim to take off the cover. A slice of home-made bread, two doughnuts and a piece of apple-pie tempted the millionaire’s appetite. He became a boy again, and tbe dinner-pail seemed the one he had carried sixty years ago. Just then the office-boy came in and sur prised the old man eating the pie—he had finished the bread and doughnuts. ‘That’s my dinner you’re eating! ex claimed the boy, indignantly. “Yes, sonny, I suspect it may be;but it’s a first-rate one, for all that. I’ve not eaten so good a one for sixty years.” “There,” he added, as he finished the pie, “take that and go ont and bny your self a dinner, but you won’t get as good a one,” and he handed the boy a five dollar bill. For days after, the old man kept refer ring to the first-class dinner he bad eaten from the boy’s piul.