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VOLUME 1. COUFJiyORRESPONDENCE. Kt'HAIU.KK ITEMS. The Euharlec Fanner’s Club held Its regular monthly meeting at the residence of Mr. .1. C. Dodd on the second Satur day in August, and was called to order by Vice J’reaidynt B. T. Leeke. Mem- Imm's all present except President link and Dr. < alhoun. Crop reports read from the various committees and showed that all crops have been worked well; corn good as the land will produce; cot ton a little late but well fruited, and if seasons continue will make a good yield. The prize on wheat was awarded to Mr. Daniel Sullivan, be being live pounds ahead. The subject was discussed and gave to some of the young members an idea “Jlow farming \\aj* done fifty years ago and the progress up to the present time.” It is useless to try to enumerate the good things that Mr. and Mrs. Dodd had for the club to feast on, but will say that each member enjoyed himself from early morn till late in the afternoon. The subject for next meeting: “Will it pay to turn land with two-horse plows; and if so what depth and what time.” Next meeting to be held at 11. 11. Milam’s second Saturday in September. KINGSTON CULLINOS. The weather is so intensely hot that there is but little show of life or bustle on our streets. The average merchant s<-cks the coolest recess of his storehouse, and sighs for a gentle zephyr to cool his heated brow. Even the irrepressiblo colored base ball Ist wilt under the fiery heat of the noonday sun, and move with as little alacrity as when employed to work by the day. The abundant rain which fell last \v r eek has greatly Improved both corn and cot ton, and the indications are that, with a few more showers, the yield will be more Hbi.mlaut than for years past. Your cor respondent has just returned from a trip through a portion of the county and was extremely gratified at the crop outlook. We are happy to announce that Miss May Leake is thought to be improving, and it is not improbable that she may yet be restored to health. Miss Eva Gillam, a pleasant young la dy from Atlanta, who has been spending a few weeks with her uncle, W. A. Gil lum, of this place, has returned home. The protracted meeting at the Metho dist church conducted by Rev. J. E. England, preacher in charge, and Rev. Mr. Dillard, of Atlanta, has closed. Much interest has been manifested throughout the meeting, the membership wonderfully revived and ten additions to the church. The entire community participated in the good inllucnce resulting from the meeting. Sinks. NTI I.KBIIOKO STUNCfUNtiS. Our people have gotten up an old fashioned beef market. It is managed in this wise: Eight neighbors agree each to kill a beef once a week. The first man kills and quarters his beef into eight pieces, viz: neck, brisket, loin, ham, etc. lie keeps a piece and sends tlio other pieces to his neighbors, who are to kill and so on until in eight weeks each man gets hack his entire beef. The distribu tion is managed so that each one gets two of each of the above named parts. This arrangement is quite convenient when you live “ten miles from a lemon” or beef market—which is all the same. Our doctors do not have much over riding, but there is some sickness, owing chiefly to too great indulgence in eating fruit and vegetables. Since prohibition has been sot up in llartow it is said some of our boys got their mail in Rome. Hog and chicken cholera are getting in some serious work for us just now. In view of the fact that we would have plenty of corn to fatten hogs, this is quite a calamity. Stilesboro has had its mad dog sensa tion. It was a real mad dog and no mis take. More copies of The Con rant are dis tributed at our postotlioe than any other paper. And our wish is, may it grow! Mac. THK IKONVILLK ITKMIZKK. Kain in abundance. Farmers’ pros pects are more encouraging; it has been said “ they will be on their feet again.” Hood news.'* i-rs. Rowland have been very snc in the cultivation of melons this season, t ] u , many friends who enjoyed their re*sent treat eau testify. Mi Sa * Bell and May Weden, of San dorsvUU*( ar e spendiug some time at Huy ton. with the family of Maj. Renfroe, their uiu[ e These young ladies are de servedlj <{Kk|)ul&r in our community. Mrs. >. R. Gibbons, of Rome, and chil dren, a e visiting relatives at ‘‘Bonny Brook’ and vicinity. Mr. Motor Smith, of New York, is on a tlyim visit to his parents at “Fontain- Among other recent visitors of abode are Mrs. S. Smith jsijSisjsMliii'litor. 'li<s Mary, ol" Rome. uly a time of \ i-it imr—then' i> i- a time for all things, it is ■HHed. how ever, that "< '•■min Henry" etc., etc., have deferred HHHBi'fil to t'ousin William" for the possibly it is too warm. The Sjsjj*H>meter i- marking in the nineti*-.- PfHW vo * al class n t - Mr. Morgan pro mt satisfa; t<,nly. n.>tw ithstatulir-g JKKB'.'.riy interforein-e-. Those pupils to attend were certainly the Mr. M. is decidedly a good in- Ml* he proposes to teach. /Bilge Jones, of Burke county, is vis brother-in-iaw. Mr. TANARUS, N, THE CARTERSVILLE COUKsvNT. The church at Wofford’s Cross Roads has been much blessed by a “time of re freshing from the Lord” during the ten day’s series of meetings concluded on Sunday, the 9th. The pastor, Rev. T. A. Owens, was ably assisted by Dr. AV. M. Janes, of Dalton. Dr. llall, of New nan, was also present on Friday and gave the people a noble sermon, subject: “Saul’s prayer, etc.” These brethren preach Ihe way of life so clearly that none need err therein. Indeed, we have great cause for gratitude. Let every thing that hath breath praise the Lord ! G. G. SURMOUNT. Fairmouxt, Georgia, Aug. 4.— The Dalton District Conference of the Meth odist Church South, embracing the coun ties of Dade, Chattooga, Catoosa, Wal kere Whitfield, Murray, Gordon and part of Bartow, after a most interesting ses sion of five days, adjourned yesterday morning. While lingering in this lovely valley 1 thought it might he interesting to you and some of your readers to give a few of my impressions. One from the low country, when the monotony of level lands and the somber music of the pine forest is constantly be fore the eye and in ttie ear, would nat urally enjoy the change to this beautiful land of mountains, hills and dales. When the lovely scenery of this beauti ful valley is added to by tiie grace of a cultivated, Christian people, abounding in a real typical Southern hospitality and surrounded in their homes with the com forts of prosperity, one finds, all that can make life happy and home an earthly paradise. Halacoa, the name of the valley and of the beautiful stream that glides over its bosom, is an Indian name, which, lain informed by mine host, Mr. Peeples, to mean “corn and greese” —significant of its wonderful fertility. One sees the ap propriateness of the name in the large fields of corn, whose luxuriant growth seems to promise bread for thousands. There is in the lovely landscape, perfect in its combination of mountains, hills and green-carpeted plains quite enough to suggest thoughts which are not so material as the meaning of the pretty word “Salacoa,” as given me, would provoke, llow glad I am there is no town here, no artifice of conventional usage, no pulling engines, no machine manners and no jostling crowd, eager to make a penny or a pound. I gratefully thank God that all the world is not a hy poceutieal automatic city. The people live here just far enough apart to add to the beauty of the landscape with their neat and comfortable houses; just far enough away from each other to have a little kingdom of independence within themselves. The selection of such a place for the meeting of a Christian associaton was a happy thought, and the realization must convince every thoughtful person that the good spirits love the country and would dwell there in preference to a cor rupt and deceitful city. The session of the conference is re ported to be, by its members, the most satisfactory in every respect ever held. Over one hundred delegates were in at tendance, among them some of the most intelligent and prominent gentlemen of North Georgia. These delegates, or members, of the conference are divided into two classes—the clerical and lay, the whole being presided over by a bishop or presiding elder. There being no bishop at present, Rev. Mr. Quillian, the pre siding elder of the district, was by vir tue of his olliee, president of the confer ence—a gentleman of excellent manners and Christian culture. There were many distinguished clergymen present, among whom Rev. Dr. David Sulims, of Ten nessee, president of Centenary College, Rev. Dr. George Smith, Sunday school agent, and Rev. Dr. S. P. Richardson were recognized from their age and abil ity as most prominent. The lay delegates comprised judges, generals, colonels, etc, —all the way down to the good country squire and the plain but the rare Mister. In the conference these lay delegates have as much, and some of them, more influence than the clergy. I was much impressed with the earnestness and force of Mr. Shumate, of Dalton, the elegance and eloquence of Mr. or Colonel Capers, from your section. It is rare that one meets gentlemen from the walks of the busy world who evidence more zeal and who please with more grace and thought ful expression. My communication would be too long if 1 should attempt a synopsis of the debates, the resolutions passed and the line speeches made. The educational, and all other interests of the church were well considered and acted upon. Every day, morning, noon and night, discourses were delivered, sermons preached, exhortations made by the ministers. Such singing your correspon dent has rarely ever heard except among tiie blacks, who are proverbial for their line melodiuos voices. The notable sermons were delivered by Doctors Sullins, Richardson and George Smith. Dr. Sullins is a type of the men who made famous the Methodist preach ers of thirty years ago. He is yet vigor ous in mind and body. On Sunday he delivered a sermon of great power from the t£xt, “I will put enmity between thy her seed.” The meeting was noted for its great crowd and the spirit uality that pervaded everywhere. On Sunday it was estimated that over three thousand people assembled at the great bush arbor. Well, now it is over, the great crowd has dispersed, the preachers and delegates are all gone and as I write you it seems that a spirit of rest and peace is brooding over a place sanctified by the presence of God’s holy sph it. 1 am informed the next conference is to be fheld at Adairsville. Miumu. CARTERSVILLE, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, AUGUST 20, 1885. BELLA S BEGINNINGS. Young Mrs. Cavendish that was to be, at some time in the dim future, and Miss Siatterleigh that was, and that, for all she could see, was likely to remain, be trothed to the lover of her choice, but forbidden by her father to marry till her husband could furnish his, own house, was in a state bordering upon despair. Nor could she discover any way out of this slough ot despond, and into the fine establishment which both she and many of her friends felt it necessary for her to have; for Cavendisli was in the law, and the small returns of his practice, add them over as many times as you would, always amounted to the same, a sum as inadequate to their united wants in the opening and garnishing of a home as a penny token would have been. She used to sit down and picture to herself the house she wanted and the things she wanted in it. If she could not have it in reality, it was pleasant to have it in imagination; and she would locate it and build it and furnish it and add to it and improve it on every idle oc casion that she had, only to see it tum bled down again by the next hard fact that gave it all a blow. Still, while she was about it, and it cost her nothing to speak of, she might as well have it the best there was to be had; and thus hav ing undertaken the thing fancifully, it grew to have an actuality of its own, and it was hard to get the habit of it out of her head, until she had naturally, but rather unwarrantably, come to expect a beginning with something as superb as most people are willing to end with. Meanwhile, it must be confessed, she found it weary waiting. Time was wear ing on, too; perhaps her beauty would be really all gone before her wedding day—and then, would there beany wed ding day ? It is true, she had had a pro posal from a millionaire no older than Mary Carlisle’s husband, and much more agreeable; but she had scouted it, being in love. She meant that Cavendish should be a millionaire, or at any rate, live in something next to a millionaire’s house; and, of course, she knew there was not the slightest prospect ot it, un less somebody would retain him on a great will case in equity, or a great rail road case anywhere, and hinc iliac, lacri mae; for her heart sank within her to see his worn, pale face; to realize that youth with all its bouyancy was leaving them ; that she was close upon her thirtieth year, and they seemed to be no nearer together now than they did five years ago. Five years ago—what a wilderness and waste of an engagement! Neither gods nor men had any pity on them, plainly. “I don’t know that 1 think it at all de sirable you should marry, Anna,” her father had said. “With your ideas, 1 can’t see how you will avoid driving Cavendish head over ears in debt and suicide in a year.” “Father!” “Yes, Anna. I’m speaking seriously. I’m sure of it. A man may have all the good principles in the Koran, but when he comes to be hounded on by the wo man he loves from one extravagance to another, the end isn’t doubtful.” “That is too idle, father. Neither I nor anyone else eould make Cavendish take one step that he thought wrong, you know very well!” said Anna, with tremendous dignity. “I know you will make him take some steps that he will think Spanish,” said the old gentleman. “What right haye either of you to want more than your pa rents had when they started up the hill ? And as for him —a bird must build his nest before he fills it. “Now, I’ll tell you what,” said the worthy old citizen, taking his coat tails over each arm out of the way of an im aginary fire: “I’ll make you a fair pro posal. When you can find a little house, with, let us say, a dining-room and kitch en on the first floor, a drawing-room over that, three chambers and an attic (more than your mother and I had, by a great deal, and a perfect desert for two young people and a servant to be lost in), and Cavendish thinks he can furnish it— why, then I will make you a gift of the deed ot the house, and the house is at 53 Poneedeleon Place.” And the wor thy gentleman stepped into the hall be fore she could reply, tugged on his big surtout, and, with his gold-headed cane, as stout as a policeman’s baton, went out on his rounds. A little house, with dining-room and kitchen, drawing-room over that, three chambers and an attic! Poor Anna burst into tears—why, goodness only ! knows, unless it was for fear that she should accept the offer. And then her cheeks were burning and her nose was red, and Cavendish was coming in the evening, and if she didn’t want to have i him get tired of her altogether he mustn't j see her iu such a plight as that; and she ! ran to rosewater for relief, and then be- \ took herself to a walk in the sunshine to restore her color and her spirits. She was thinking it all over, and won dering whether she had better tell Cav endish anything about the little house or not, when she found herself in Bella Mining’s neighborhood. Bella, whose family had a pedigree as long as the law, but hardly a piece of silver to cross their palms with, and who, herself, had mar ried a man with a salary not any more than equal to the sum which Mr. Slat terleigh had allowed Anna and her rnoth- I er for their dress, not to speak ot their | flowers and perfumes and confectionery. ! It occurred to Anna all at once that it i was high time she called on Bella, and j then while she was there she would look ! about her and see. what love in a cottage was like; not that she meaut to do any ! such silly tiling herself as Bella had done, but then it was well to regard ail I sides of a matter. i It was a dark and narrow street that Bella lived in, walled In loftily at either side by mansions once belonging to the old noblesse of the city, who had left them long since, however, for airier abodes; but the street ran down to the bay, and there was a delightful vista all the way through, and at Bella’s house there was a slight projection which must make the vista a perpetual possession of the front parlor. And what a little gem of a house it was ! As Anna turned her head from side to side of the prettj* par lor she almost confessed to herself that it was really cozier and pleasanter than a palace, though she shivered immediately afterward with apprehension, as if the mere thought were half a pledge. And what a darling little maid, in white bib and tucker, not ten years old, had let her in, and now came to her side and said Mrs. Viqing would be down directly. Anna could have kissed her, but for her fears of the effect of such an act upon the discipline of the household. Perhaps, she said, they had canaries trained to draw the water, and educated mice in the pantry, and learned fleas for the er rands. “Oh, Bella!” said she, as Mrs. Vining entered, and forgetting all formality, ‘do you believe I could find such a quaint, delightful little maid?’ “Oh, Anna!” said the other, “a hun dred of them. She is only the cook’s daughter, who has her living and her dress for waiting on door and table.” Ajid then, at the simple little confession, it flashed on Anna that here was the per son for her confidence and her consola tion, and she would swear her to truth on the bones of all her grandmothers, and then learn if, being married on noth ing, she had ever regretted it. And out came the whole of poor Anna’s story; and when she had told it she blushed for shame, for, translated into plain words, there seemed to be nothing of it except that she did not love her lover well enough to do without luxury for his sake. But Bella did not look at it in that way at all. Her heart swelled with sym pathy. “Regret it?” she cried, with flushing cheeks, and quivering with ea gerness to add another martyr to the fire. “Oh, regret it! Why I never knew what happiness was before—oh, never, never! And as for the nothing part, the income—why, it’s just like the parable of the loaves and fishes, and Charles freely admits that there is more to sparo now than there was in the old times when he only gave me gloves and bonbons and took me to concerts. He saves it in his clothes alone, my dear. Oh, you don’t know! We keep house together, we do, indeed, almost—yes, almost for what it cost him once to board alone. And I knit his stockings and make his shirts, and re-seat his*trousers and bind his coats, and when it isn’t to be done any more, sell his old clothes for ground-glass vases--” “Oh, well, then, Bella,” said her lis tener, in a comical solemnity, “it’s of no use my talking to you, because I don’t know how to knit socks and make shirts and seat trousers; and 1 don’t want to know, for I’m very sure it never would pay in the world, if I had to slave after that fashion.” Slave!” said Bella. “Why, it’s mere happiness—in the evening, when he’s reading to me. Sometimes then, when the storm is all wild and white outside, and the air is so soft on the inside, with the shade on the gas, and I look at him in the ring of the light, and listen to his voice, and watch the smoke of his pipe curl up, and it all is so delightful, so se cure, I say to myself: This is our grave; we are in heaven. Oh! how can I be telling you so much? Only that I want you to be just as happy!” Perhaps the little creature’s ecstasy softened Anna the least atom in the world more. “Well, it may be all very nice—if you like it,” she admitted. “But there! it’s no use for me to speak, even. I wonder I should make such a fool of myself! I don’t suppose Cavendish has more than a thousand dollars in all the world to be gin with. That might get a Kiddermin ster and an oil-cloth; but as for any thing more—” ‘\Now, Anna dear, as I’ve been so opefci with you, I might as well tell all the rest,” cried the impulsive Bella. “Just come over the whole house with me, and let me show you every thing; and then you shall guess how much it all cost, and I will tell you the solemn truth.” So over the house the little procession walked. Hot much of a walk, by-the way, since at the top of the second stair case there was a partition; and Bella confessed to Anna that the upper stories were rented to another young family, who used the door opening on the alley, ard had no more communication with them than with any other household. “You see, it saves us half the rent,” said Bella, “and so we can put that by to ward the rainy days,” and she opened the door of the remotest room—the ser vant’s room. Anna glanced in, and saw straw matting, painted pine, copper-plate counterpane and curtains, a lithograph of the Virgin of the Veil above the bed. Neat, if not alluring. The next room was the spare chamber. Straw matting again, with a large square of bordered Brussels in the centre, a handsome black walnut bedstead and bureau, a arm-chair covered with sMk dimity, some straw chairs and a straw lounge, white book-muslin curtains tied up with blue ribbons, a toilet-table where some shin ing blue stuff was draped rnd flu fed nn ' derneath the same muslin, /a Parian copy of a grape-crowned head, of Ariad ■ ne, and two or three engravings framed in passe-partout and decollated with plumes of grass—as cool and airy as i some snowy cave, with all its Hlue-green 1 light. “That room,” said Bqlla—“that whole room cost me not quite one hun dred and fifty dollars.” “What!” cried Anna. “Yes, it did,” said Bella, emphatical ly. “I will tell you all about it. I found the matting at an auction sale, though it was spick and scan new; the Brussels square and the bordering were remnants and I had them for cost. I looked at sets of furniture, and they appalled me; there was nothing decent till you came to three and live hundred dollars; but I came across a bedstead in one place that had been made to order and never ta ken, and an odd bureau at another. So I got my set for eighty dollars. I made my own mattresses, I and an old woman ; it’s perfectly easy, I assure you, with a long mattress-needle. As for the arm chair, we made that ourselves too, out of an old hogshead; we did indeed —you needn’t laugh, its as comfortable as a throne; and we covered it with a quilt of my mother’s; and we cut the engravings from an old Art Union and trained them. But this is what I consider our greatest triumph,” said Bella, and she ran to the toilet-table and lifted the muslin, with its quillings and mchings and all its fluted searcenet underneath, ami disclos ed an old pine packing box. “Bella, you are a little witch,” cried Anna. “Am I not? Well, I do think this room is an achievement. But my room is better still. Here it is. My bedstead there, with all that beautiful white and gold lattice work, is only an iron one, and cost almost nothing. My carpet— well, that was extravagant, perhaps, but I meant my room to be perfectly beauti ful ; and then I thought that pale mottle would just match the pale chintz cur tains and toilet-covers and chairs; and as for the dressing-table, the ottomans, the footstools, they are all old packing-boxes again; and the easy-chair i3 a barrel; and that little hour-glass table, covered with the chintz, was made out of two bar rel heads and a broom handle. Ot course all that took time, but then time was the only thing I had too much of. Then I bought the china sets and vases from an old-clothes man, as I told you; and there isn’t any frame but the paper one, with the . pressed autumn leaves pinned all round it, to that old second-hand look ing-glass ; and we bought little mouldings of white wood for those bright water-col ors of mine; and Charlie cut the brack ets out of cigar boxes and polished and oiled them. And as for the flying Mer cury, I always wanted one, and, of course, I couldn’t have it, for it costs fifty or sixty dollars; so I contented my self with this plaster one painted green, witli gold powder rubbed in: it looks a little like the flying Mercury, and a little like a huge grasshopper, but it brings such an aerial sense of springing strength and lightness into the room, that I am glad I have it, if I did pay five dollars for it.” “Oh, Bella! and to think of the fifty dollars I waste almost every week of my life!” “Well, you have it to waste, or else you couldn’t,” said the practical little matron. “But about this carpet. When Charlie gave me the money for the house, I said the first thing is the car pets, and the halls and parlors and din ing-room must have nice ones. So I knew Mrs. Burleigh was just going to buy new carpets, and I thought it we could get them oil' the same pieces we could get them at wholesale price, for she wanted ever so many hundred yards, and I wanted a good deal, and we went together to a wholesale place, and—just think! —all that carpeting for two hun dred dollars!” “Two hundred? Why, I thought car pets—” Yes, indeed, two hundred and no more. Then I went to the owner of the house and fairly talked him into taking out the old fixtures and putting in new ones, perfectly plain, dark ones up stairs; but in the drawing-room these tiny gilt ones, with all their fine chains, just like pieces of Roman gold jewelry, and in the hall that little bronze Hindoo boat full of flowers, you remember, that the Girls on the Ganges send out with a light to tell about their lovers. You don’t know how much they have to do with the effect. He said, though, he shouldn’t do it for every one; but he liked my pluck and my taste, and having the plain ones up stairs and in tiie din ing-room saved them to him, as he could use the old ones in anew house, too. Then I padded the floors and the stairs, and had the carpets stretched over them, and made the hassocks myself. Isn’t that crimson beautiful? And Charles had a splendid leopard skin to lay down before the fender, and we got some light, spider-legged chairs painted black —a dollar a piece—and sewed on springs, and stuffed them, and then tacked on a bit of canvas, and over that a tit of car nation cloth with gilt-headed nails—see, you couldn’t find anything prettier in ebony. I bought a real parlor arm-chair in that same cloth—a perfect sleepy hol | low—and a little bit of a marbietop, and one mirror, at an auction, to be sure. You don’t know what you can do at aue ! tions till you hang round a little: and i Charlie had that lovely library table, | and the low book-cases and busts, be fore.” * “Oh, how fortunate!” cried Anna, who had forgotten all about palaces, and was quite rapt in this delight of making both ends meet. “But there were your windows, and your dining room, and —” “My four windows cost me just fifteen dollars. For I bought that imitation Nottingham lace, and I edged it with imitation Cluny; it looks just as pretty, and washes just as well, and I should like to know who’s going to stop and ex amine it. And then in the dining-room, chairs and Turkey red curtains and an extension tabid, cheap, but. covered with a beautiful cloth, for Aunt Maria gave me my house linen, loads of it, and Aunt Jane my glass and china, as your aunts will do, you may rest easy, and more too.” “But then the kitchen ?” “Oil, pa gave me the kitchen furni ture; it was all he could do, with my wardrobe, too, you know. And he told me to take my piano, that cottage, and one of the old family portraits. I chose ray great-grandmother, when she was a little girl, with her parrot on her wrist. And then the wedding presents came, Anna. You don’t know how they eke out and fill up the chinks. Not a great deal of silver, but all those little bits of paintings—two or three from the artists themselves, who happened to be friends of Charlie’s—those lovely chromos and statuettes and book racks, and that pe destal and head. It did seem as though I had been making friends all my life with an eye to my wedding presents.” “Absurd, Bella! I didn’t give you any.” “Why, yes, you did. Don’t you recol lect years and years ago giving me that china flowerpot? Here it is. I had been growing that ivy in it for all those years on purpose. Just look at it; doesn’t it seem to he alive, so green and dewy?* could anything be lovelier? Isn’t it the most charming, cozy room in the city?” cried the young wife, enraptured with herself. “Only one tiling—-my lounge —I forgot. I wanted one, of course; but they were a hundred and fifteen dollars and upward, and what I should do I did not know. And then, just as I was ready to die with the blues, an idea struck me; and I went to anew upholsterer and I said—l must tell you—l said, ‘Can I find a box here of such and such dimensions?’ I forget now the feet and inches. And he said, ‘Oh, yes; for four dollars.’ So 1 bought it. And then I said, I want to have a common, cheap spring mattress fastened upon that; how much will that bo?’ He thought about ten dollars. So I went away and bought my carnation cloth, that cost fifteen dollars—you know it is an immense width; and I cut off enough for my pillows, and made and covered and corded and tasseled them, and carried the rest of the cloth to the upholsterer and asked him what he would want to let one of his men tack that on my box ‘ship-shape,’ and he said he guessed a couple of dollars. And when it was done he brought it home, and I put on the pillows; and he stopped and looked at it a minute, and then at me, ‘Well,’ said he, ‘if you ain’t the dashedest smart woman I ever come across! You got out of me for thirty dollars what I ask a hundred and thirty for.’ And I felt as pleased as any prima donna does when her audience applaud her, I can assure you. And Charlie thinks—oh, I can’t tell you what Charlie thinks! But the whole furnishing of this house, Anna, just cost him six hun dred and sixty-five dollars and thirty seven cents.” And here Mrs. Bella broke off to catch tiie breath that had run away with her, and went to bring her guest a bit of bread and some wine, for she knew Anna must be ready to faint with listening to her nonsense; but she had wanted Anna to see how much re spectability and beauty and happiness could be gotten out of how little money. “I don’t dare to think of it,” said Anna, when her hostess seemed to have run down. “I can’t beat down people, as you can, by just looking innocently at them. I’m thirty, and awfully digni fied.” “Oh, I’ll go with you.” “And as for all that machinery of packing-boxes and chintz and brass nails, what is the use of beginning so, when I should certainly break down in the first year, and cry my eyes out for a thread lace bonnet, or something I used to have and can’t now?’’ “Well, to be sure,” said Bella, greatly dampened for half a moment, “all that depends on whether you care most for thread lace bonnets or Mr. Cavendish.” “I wonder how it would do,” said Anna, taking no notice of such a thrust as that, “to furnish one’s whole house with those old-fashioned cherry-wood things; high-post bedsteads with testers, and chests of drawers with brass knock ers to the ceiling -that you find in sec ond-hand stores —buy them for old fire wood and have them cleaned?” “Old firewood?” cried Bella. “Oh, you dear little idiot! They cost ten thou sand times more than the best carved rosewood that ever was. Somebody lives on Fifth Avenue, though, that burns rosewood altogether, but he’s the only one in the world can afford such fire-wood!” “Well, then, I don’t know what is to become of me; because, you see, I have not got an atom of mechanical skill, and I never can do these things.” “Not if I come and help you ?” asked the insinuating Bella. “What would be the use of that,” the other asked, “when it’s merely begin ning that way; it’s keeping on that way ? Suppose— Oh, dear me, what’s the use of supposing? Good-by. I’m going to bring Cavendish round to see you, any way. May I? I’m so sorry I haven’t been before! llow good you are to me.” Kiss, kiss, and she was gone. j I’m sure I don’t know what Anna vs going to do about it. But I met her walking around Poncedeleon Place wiUh Mr. Cavendish that very night, and' I fancied that she must have quite forgot ten about her palace. And as I Wnow Cavendish has left off smokingv and every time be feels like taking a (Ygar is dropping the price of one into his/strong box, and as Anna is hoarding J all the checks her father gives her fo/ her au tumn dresses and new jewel/y, and is turning her old silks, I thinly, with Mr. Slatterleigh, that things loefk hopeful; and I shouldn’t wonder if sPoncedeleon NUMBER 29. Ptooe were furnished soon, and without much recourse to packing-boxes and seareenet, if Mr. Slatterleigh has his way. At any rate, [ met Anna going home the other day, followed by a small boy bearing an enormous plant, and as she ran up the steps to let him in I beard her gayly singing to herself. “Oh, a rare old plant is the ivy greon.” XIII3 AKT OF EMBALMING. The Modern Process Inferior to that Used lu Ancient Egypt, but Gaining In Favor. Two men sat silent in the handsomely furnished store on a leading New York thoroughfare. A small portion of the furniture and ornaments pertained to the living, the remainder to the dead. It was an undertaker’s establishment, and the younger but more solemn person was a professional embalmer. In answer to the reporter’s questions, he said: “Gen. Grant’s embalming was work of the finest kind, something to be proud ot. It was done by the leader of our profess ion, and with the best materials in the market. There are many mortuary direc tors who profess to be embalmers, and who know a smattering of the art, but they are unworthy the name. Real em balmers are few in number, there not being more than ten in the entire coun try, To be one an undertaker must have a sufficient knowledge of surgery, medi cine, and chemistry, and must also have considerable artistic sense. This makes a rare combination. “The chief element in embalming con sists in the removing a large portion of blood from the body and substituting therefor some powerful antiseptic fluid. Many experiments have been made in respect to those liquids. I can hardly re call how many preparations have been tried. Brine, salicylic acid, diluted creo sote, solutions of sulphate of zinc, and the iodite and chloride of that metal. You see, the fluid used must be nearly color less, or else verging on blood color, and must not cause discoloration. This pre cludes the use of salts of copper, iron, manganese, and chromium, and also of compounds of sulphur. “A solution of chloride of zinc was at one time in vogue, but in several instan ces it produced a ghastly bluish tinge, and so went entirely out of fashion. The so-called Egyptian fluid was a standard preparation for years. It was so named by its manufacturer, who claimed that it was the same liquid as was used in pre paring the mummies of Egypt. It was improved upon, however, by some Amer ican chemists, who now have a practical monopoly in supplying embalmers with the fluid. Their manufacture is styled the Oriental fluid, and is made in Bos ton . “In embalming, a large vein and large artery are opened, and a small force pump, connected with a vessel contain ing the antiseptic fluid, is applied. The process requires from two to four hours. The national movement of the circulation is followed. As the fluid enters the blood vessels the blood is forced out. The longer the time the better the result. A short time enables the operator to re move the blood from only the larger ves sels. In a longer period the fluid pas ses from the larger to-the and into the capillaries. This distends the skin and produces a life-like appear ance. “The cost of the process is from sls upwards. Embalming grows more com mon every year. In the past thirty months our establishment has embalmed about 200 subjects. We are still behind the ancients in our work. In the main, a subject well treated lasts three years. This is a fair average. It would be lon ger if it were not for occasional cases in which the antiseptic liquids seem to lose their efficiency. There is, however, a distinguished chemist in Italy who claims to petrify a subject by using some silicate preparation. Though I have not seen the process employed, yet I have baen shown specimens which resembled petrifaction. “A second duty of the embalmer is the sime as that of an undertaker, to make the subject as life-like and natural as pos sible. There is a division in the profess ion at this point. Some endeavor by art t) restore almost all the characteristics of life: others merely endeavor to remove the disagreeable insignia of death. As for myself, I think it proper to conceal the marks of or dis ease. No art can faraway the horror of death. Its excess makes death tl.e m )re terrible by contrast, “The embalmer runs the risk of dis ease and blood poi oning. A subject once preserved and treated is innocuous: but in the process the germs of the dis eise from which he died are expelled in vast numbers of the blood. The opera tor in such cases always runs the risk of contagion and infection. Blood poison ing is hpt to occur to the embalmer as to the Surgeon. The danger in all these cases,/however, can be guarded against. who are attacked are nine times out/f ten ignorant funeral directors, who ca/.themseiyes embalmers when they are n / CUKE FOR PILES. Piles arc frequently preceded by a sense of weight in the back, loins and lower part of the abdomen, causing the patient to suppose he has some afiection of the kidneys or neighboring or gans. At times symptoms of indigestion are present, flatulency, uneasiness of the stomach, etc. A moisture, like perspiration, producing a very disagreeable itching, after getting warm, is a common attendant. Blind, Bleeding and Itching Piles yield at once to the application of Dr. Bo.sanko’s Pile Remedy, which acts directly upon the parts effected, absorbing the Tumors, allaying the intense itching, and effecting a per manent cure. Price 50 cents. Address, The Bosanko Medicine Cos., Piqua, O. Sold by D. W. urr.y , , , may 7-ly CURRY’S COUGH CURE, For Coughs, Colds, Hoarseness, Etc. and 75 cents per bottle.