Newspaper Page Text
W. F. SfstiTH, Publisher,
VOLUME IX.
%t GOOD-BY. v -
BT mat IIE x. BUOWS.
®? od : b y” a , °, v ' ,r w biper,
„ HtandmK the gate;
1 iw hard, 0 hard to leave you,
But wa cannot alter fate ;
T \j f n*e, love, for aje,
Ooor’ by, sweetheart, good-by.”
** Good-by, dear mother; hold me
Close to your loving heart.
Ah! how it hurts to say it,
lo know that we must part:”
J.iSt, list the wild heart-cry,
u Good-by, mother, good-by.”
The little wasted fingers
Rest calmly in our own,
Amjbaby’s bright young spirit,
” lthout a sigh or moan,
Rteers for its home on high,
Followed by our “ good-by.”
Bring hither spot’ess lilies,
it and milk-white phlox;
With loving lingers strew them
Inside the r>Bewood box,
For maidens, too, must die,
Goo U-by, alas, good-by.”
Tli l ’.s, at each cross and turn,
-d< through the ceaseless rush
Or restive, busy life,
From morning’s earliest blush
To evening’s latest sigli—
Good-by, good-by, good-by.
Mariner on life’s ocean,
Mourner beside the tomb,
Iravoler along earth’s highway,
'I hose words thy path iilume :
Beyond those ohungeful skies
There’ll be no more good-byes.
• Marie Antoinette.
the History of a Beautiful but Un
fortunate Woman.
Mnrio Antoinette Josephe Jeanne He
Lorraine was the youugest daughter of
Francis Joseph and the renowned Maria
Theresa of Austria. On the day of her
birth, Nov. 2, 1755, occurred the terri
ble. earthquake which laid Lisbon in
ashes, and caused the death of thousands
of human beings. Minds prone to look
upon such disasters as evil omens never
tailed to recall this as one of Ihc many
winch attended the career of Mario An
toinette.
Asa child her bright looks, quick in
telligence and benevolently-!)fYectionate
nature made her the special favorite of
her royal parents. When, iu 1764,
Francis Joseph quitted his family to go
to Innspruck, which proved to be his
last journey, ho ordered her to be
brought to him just as his carriage was
ready to start, saving :
“Adieu, my dear little daughter. Fa
ther wished once more to press you to
his heart.”
This was the last time they naw each
other. A few days after the Emperor
died at Innspruck, and the royal child,
then about 9 years of age, felt her first
Veal sorrow.
For two centuries and a half France
and Austria had been enemies. It had
ever been Maria Theresa’s ambition to
increase the prosperity of her country,
and sho prided herself on putting an end
to this enmity by an alliance with
France, which she had contracted some
years previously.
As her daughter Mario gave decided
promise of the marvelous beauty for
which she was afterward so celebrated,
her imperial mother endeavored to ce
ment the French alliance more closely
by proposing to Louis X-V. a marriage
between the Dauplun, the grandson and
heir of Louis, and her youngest child.
Having brilliant destiny in view for
her lovely daughter, the Empress had
her portrait painted by French artists,
and caused her to bo thoroughly in
structed in the French language.
Mctastasio, the favorite court poet,
taught the royal maiden Italian, anil the
great musician Gluck gave her lessons
on the harpsichord.
It is said she did not excel in her
studies; she was naturally too full of
life and spirits to be gravely studious.
She was, however, always active iu be
in voleuce ; and, being accustomed from
tbo noble example of her mother to feel
an interest in the welfare of the poorest,
she carried into the country of her
adoption a disposition ever leading her
“ to sympathize with sorrow, to succor
misfortune and distress, and to be indig
nant at injustice and ingratitude.*’
By tlie spring of 1770, all arrange
ments tor the marriage of the Dauphin
witli Marie Antoinette were completed ;
those of France being on the most
splendid scale, for the court of Louis
X\. was as celebrated for its taste and
magnificence as it was notorious for its
Votligacy.
On mo 2(*>tli of April, the bride, not
.-'■t lifteen, quitted her Austrian home
A) become the wife of a youth she had
never seen, and to abide iu a country
where she knew not one person as an
acquaintance. For the last time—though
she then knew it not —she gazed on the
familiar scenes of her childhood, leaving
behind her forever her companions and
playmates to whom she had warmly en
deared herself.
The parting between mother and
daughter was extremely affecting, and
a mournful interest is attached to it
when we remember that it was the last
time they were destined to meet.
“Tho whole population of Vienna
Jironged the streets to see her depart,
aiingliug tears of genuine sorrow with
their acr lamations as they followed her
carriage to the outermost gates of the
city that they might gaze their last on
the darling of many hearts.”
At Strasbourg, the first French city to
receive her, Mario Antoinette ceased to
#e German and became French. By
the orders of Louis a magnificent pavil
ion was built at this place. It was su
perbly decorated, and divided into two
compartments. In the first the youth
ful bride, after divesting herself of her
German clothing and reattiring herself
in costlv vestments of French manufact
ure. feaile farewell to her Austrian at
tendants ; she then passed into the sec
ond division and received the French
fffffffffffffffffffffff
D votfl to Industrial Inttr tit. the ItifTa ion o! Tiiifcli, the Establishment of Justice, and the Preservation of a People’s Government,
officers of her new household as a French
Princess.
I he celebrated German writer, Goethe,
nt the time pursuing his studies at
bti as)ourg, was present at the ceremony
and he noticed what he considered a
most inauspicious omen in the tapestrj
decoration of the chief saloon. “It rep
resented the history of Jason and Medea,
and the young poet could not avoid re
flecting that a record of the most miser
able union related in ancient mythology
was an 111-omeped ornament for nuptial
festivities.
On quitting the pavilion, Marie An
toinette found in waiting the splendid
carriages which had been express) y
built for her at Paris. “They were
marvels of the coaehmaker’s art; one,
covered iu crimson velvet, having pict
ures emblematical of the four seasons,
embroidered in gold on the principal
panels ; on another the velvet was blue,
with designs of the elements. On the
roofs of each were nosegays of flowers
carved in gold, enameled in appropriate
colors, and wrought with such exquisite
delicacy that every movement oi the
carriages, or even “the lightest breeze,
caused them to wave as if they were the
natural produce oi the garden^’
Along the whole route the royal
and lovely girl-bride received a most
Cordial and princely welcome. Proceed
ing by easy stages, she reached Com
piegne on the 14th of Mav, where Louis
XV . came to meet her, accompanied by
lb© Dauphin, who was only a few
months older than his bride, and whom
she then saw for the first time.
On the ICth of May, the royal party
having arrived at Versailles, the mar
riage ceremony was performed in the
chapel of the pa lace by “ the Primate of
France, the Archbishop of liheims. A
canopy of a cloth of silver was held over
the youthful pair, and after the Dauphin
had placed the ring on the bride’s finger,
he added, as a token that lie endowed
her with alibis worldly wealth, a gilt of
thirteen pieces of gold.”
The wedding festivities were not free
from several petty vexations, caused by
the jealousy of court parasites, whose
insolence toward the foolish and extrav
agant Louis XV. contributed so much to
make him and his reign hateful and
despicable in the eyes of the French
people.
The numerous balls and banquets
given in honor of the royal marriage
wore closed on the 30th of May by a
magnificent display of fireworks winch
unfortunately terminated in one of the
most dreadful catastrophes. The square
in which the display was exhibited was
crowded with pedestrians and carriages;
all was excitement and admiration at the
wonders displayed, when one of the ex
plosions set lire to a portion of the plat
forms on which the designs of the
dill'front figures were constructed. In
an instant the delight of the multitude
wus turned into the wildest terror ; the
uproar and the blaze made the horses
unmanageable, and in a few moments
animals and human beings were mingled
iu horrible confusion. At least 600 per
sons were supposed to have perished,
and as many more to have been griev
ously injured.
The Dauphin and Daupliiness were
greatly shocked at this tenable disaster,
and the tender heart of the youug bride
not only moved her to givo money tow
ard the relief of the poorer families, but
to visit many of them personally, so
that they might feel the sweet balm of
her loving sympathy and gentle speech.
Many are the instances related of her
generous interest in the misfortunes of
others, especially of the poor. She won
her way to all hearts. Cven Louis XV.,
steeped as he was in his vices, praised
her beauty and virtue in the hearing of
his courtiers, exciting thereby the coarse
jealeusv of his infamous mistress, the
Countess do. Bani.
It seems little short of miraculous
how so young and so lovely a girl man
aged to conduct herself with so much
tact and dignity in such a vicious court.
She was constantly surrounded by spies.
Not even her writing-desk was safe from
their prying eyes, and it was next to im
possible for her and her husband to have
any private conversation. Yet, in spite
of all these irritating circumstances,
she had the satisfaction of finding ner
pure and cheerful influence over the
Dauphin rapidly increasing. There is
abundant evidence to prove they both
desired to promote the welfare of the
French nation.
Just before the death of Louis XV.,
great distress existed in Paris, which the
Dauphin and Dauphiness sought to re
lieve by “a munificent donation from
their private purse. ” Immediately after
they came to the French throne their
very first edict was to announce that two
taxes, called respectively “The gift of
the happy accession” and “ The girdle
of the Queen,” would not be imposed.
Dislikiug extremely the excessive eti
quette of' the Court of Versailles, it
was only natural that the gay-hearted
young Queen should sometimes long to
escape from its trammels. Knowing
this, her husband, now Louis XVL,
gave her for her own use the celebrated
“ Little Trianon,” situated about a mile
from the Palace of Versailles ou one side
of the park. In this delightful retreat
the innocent, sunny-tempered Marie
Antoinette was wont to amuse herself,
at one time feeding poultry, at another
making bread, and anon busying herself
in the garden. But even this charming
spot was not sacred from the malice of
hex enemies, and some of her most inno
cent actions furnished food for slander.
As the years rolled on, and she gave
no sign of becoming a mother, her hus
band’s next-eldest brother, the Count
de Provence, made no secret of his in
tentions in respect to the French crown.
With all his kindness toward his beau
tiful consort, Louis XVL was so phleg
matic in temperament, and so singularly
INDIAN SPRINGS, GEORGIA.
devoid of passion, that ho cannot be
considered to have pioved anything like
a suitable guide and support to the brill
iant, high-spirited Marie Antoinette.
For one in his exalted position, his edu
cation had been shamefully neglected ;
thus a;I t! !. wo:st and weakest faults in
Ins characL r remained uncivil clod, and
in every er: is win re decision, courage
and graceful tact were demanded, an
awkward timidity and inability to decide
for himself were but too pain'ally appa
rent ; and there can be no doubt that
these serious defects largly contributed
to bring about those terrible disasters
which ended in the ruin and death of
himself and las heroisnvife.
Nine years elapsed ere Marie Antoi
nette had the joy of finding herself a
mother, and during those years it is easy
to believe that much of the levity and
thoughtlessness laid to her charge was
indulged in for the sake of subduing the
painful feelings caused by her husband's
coldness toward her, more especially as
sho saw that her continuing childless
only served to make her husband’s ene
mies all the more powerful.
Marie Antoine.te was tnen in the full
flower of her womanhood, and her beauty
was tho admiration of ali beholders.
“ In words which will live as long as
the English language,” Burke lir3 de
scribed the enthusiastic emotions sho
excited. It seemed to him “thatsurely
never lighted on this orb, which she
hardly seemed to touch, a more de
lightful vision.”
Horace Walpole writes to Lady Os
sory: “Sho is a statue of btanty,
standing or sitting ; grace itself when
she moves.” Madame Vigce le Ilrun,
who painted her portrait, and who was
in despair over the difficulty sho ex
perienced in doing justice to the re
markablo brilliancy of Marie Antoin
ette’s complexion, informs us that the
Queen was “ tall, admirably propor
tioned, fully developed, but not stout,
superb arms, hands and feet small and
perfectly formed. She had the finest
carriage of any woman in France, car
rying her head with a majesty that in
stantly marked tho sovereign even in
the midst of her court, yet without iu
any vvav detracting from tho sweetness
and pleasantness of her aspect. Her
eyes weie blue, soft and brilliant; nose
good, and well chiseled ; moutn not too
large, with the full Austrian lips of her
family. I never saw anything like her
complexion, so exquisitely transparent,
The last time I went to Fontainebleau,
1 sow her in full costume, covered ivith
diamonds, and as the sun shone upon
her she looked truly dazzling. Her
head, supported bv her loveiv. swan
like neck, gave her in walking so ma
jestic and imposing an air that she
looked like a goddess in the midst of her
nymphs.”
Great was the joy of tiiis wondrously
beautiful woman when she gazed on her
first-born, a daughter, who had the mis
for tune to undergo with her royal par
ents the horrors of the imprisonment in
the Temple, and who became known in
history as the Duchess d’Angouleme.
Marie Antoinette’s second child was a
son, and a short time after liis birth she
proudly clasped him to her bisoni with
the most fervent thanksgiving, then re
signing him to the nurse she said :
“Take him—lie belongs to the state;
but my daughter is still mine.”
Alas, poor mother ! she was then in
blissful ignorance of the horrible fate in
store for her and her royal house. For
years the storm had been gathering
which ultimately expended its over
whelming force in the horrors of the
French Revolution. Singular to relate,
the popular fury was chiefly directed to
ward the hapless Queen. The old ani
mosity between the French and the
Austrians appeared to blaze forth with
redoubled strength, and the fact of her
being an Austrian by birth was flung at
her as if it had been a crime.
The insults and indignities heaped up
on her during tho cruel imprisonment in
the Temple, and the hideous mockery of
justice at the hands of the fanatical Ja
cobins at her so called trial, are a fear
ful revelation of the depths of fiendish
barbarity to which human nature can
sometimes fall. Her husband perished
on the scaffold ; her beloved son, “beau
tiful as an angel,” and for whose life and
crown she was prepared to face death
itself, was torn from her protecting arms
and consigned to a horrible fate at the
hands of the brutal cobbler, Simon.
Nearly all her most devoted friends—
simply because they were her friends—
were sacrificed by the incensed rabble.
During the last four years of her life
what heroism she displayed. How great
was her faith in the justice of the French
people. How nobly she strove, though
in vain, to animate her husband on sev
eral critical occasions with her own cour
ageous spirit and gracious tact; think
ing, and perhaps not altogether wrongly
—that things would not have come to
such a fearful pass if Louis liad but
bravely looked his difficulties iu the face.
With wliat fortitude she set herself “to
think for all, to act for all, to struggle for
all; and to bear up against tlie convic
tion that her thoughts and actions and
struggles were balked of their eilect by
the very persons for whom she was ex
erting herself. ”
Bereft of every hope, separated from
every soul she loved, her onee-brilliant
and beautiful countenance faded and
worn through suffering, her eyes dimmed
and shrunken from endless weeping, her
hair whitened, not by years, but by’ un
speakable sorrow, the “ Niche of Mon
archy ” laid her head under the execu
tioner’s knife on the morning of the 19th
of October 1793, and in a few seconds
her deeply-affiieted soul was at rest ever
rhore.
—Georgia has probably the smallest
foreign-bom population of an. State,
only U . '6l out
pro! ably has aso the large-t per cent,
native te her own soil, over 1,4 i.euJ,
Late Fashion Notes,
New French dresses are exceedingly
short in the skirt.
Scorched spots, if not too deep, may
be removed by laying them in the sun.
Muslin embroidery is seen upon new
bonnets of Parisian make.
Turkey-red calico dresses for children,
made in Mother Hubbard style, and
trimmed with Medici lace, are very fash
ionably wotn for morning dresses at the
seashore.
White or sprigged muslin round hats,
shirred into shape over the milliner’s
reeds, and trimmed with Jlots of satin
ribbon and cascades of fancy lace, are
worn with light summer toilets in town
and country.
Pointed shoes of velvet, matching in
shape the laced ones of kid now seen
upon the promenade, have the toes
covered with an embroidery of gold and
silver beads. They are laced over the
instep with gold or silver cords.
Faille is very largely employed this
season, and is usually combined with
other materials in the construction of
stylish costum<?3, Pompadour satin, shot
silks, moire, silk gauze, or grenadine
being the other fabrics usually selected.
Fichus of the finest white linen, sim
ply hemstitched around the edges, are
worn over morning toilets of foulard,
muslin, cashmere, or vigogne, by the
few women whose complexions can bear
the test of so severe a style of neck
dressing.
The coquille ruche is formed by sev
eral plaits turned each way, so as to
form a box-plait in the center. The
upper and lower edges of this ruche are
sewn together in the center, causing the
other plaits to set out in a fan or shell
shape, as the name coquille denotes.
Very young girls now tie the hair
which they draw away from the fore
head and temples very high upon the
crown of their heads, fastening it there
with a bright satin ribbon. These flow
ing locks are then left to fall with the
back hair in a wavy shower over their
shoulders.
Pale sea-green silk dresses of the most
artistic and aesthetic hue, or tint rather,
nearly covered with white lace ruffles,
panniers, and bertha of lace to match,
draped over the bodice, are to be very
fashionably worn at summer evening
dancing parties this season.
Moire this season very seldom forms
the tvliole of a costume. It is only used
in combination with other materials,
such as satin, foulard, taffetas, lawn,
silk, or cashmere. It quite frequently
forms the skirt or bodice, the other por
tions of the toilet being of a contrasting
material, or it is frequently employed
for facings, collar, sash, pelerine, cuffs,
and vest, in the formation of anew cos
tume or the renovation of one of a past
season.
Many summer bonnets, following the
style of the “Langtry” bonnet, have the
crowns completely covered with broad
loops of satin ribbon. One pretty gip
sy bonnet in this fashion is made of
white cactus-lace straw, the brim being
covered with a passementerie of white
x>earl beads. The crown is covered with
Eroad, flat loops of cream-white satin
ribbon. Inside the bonnet is faced with
pale lilac surah, and the strings, which
tie at the left side, are of white satin,
lined with lilac.
Many of the new gimps, olives, cor
delieres, and frogs, now stylishly worn
in the place of buttons to close the dress
in front, have chenille introduced into
them with pleasing effect. Some of
these have cords of two or three con
trasting shades of color, and thus fur
nish a very tasteful and eleirant acces
sory to a plain dress of neutral tint, re
quiring no additional coloring to light it
up. The latest hand-made fourrageres
and passementerie loops very much re
semble rich embroidery when laid over
velvet, satin, or cloth.
Among the innovations of modern
fashion, one of the oldest is the wearing
of velvet throughout the summer. There
is this season an infinite variety of vel
vets —plain, openwork, plaided, striped,
beaded, moired, flowered, and a num
ber of novel devices in dark Oriental
colorings. The plain black Lyons vel
vet is, however, the most favored. The
new English brand of velveteen, known
as the “Louis” silk-face pile, is finding
a very large sale in America, as it is
much used for underskirts and for chil
dren’s dresses.— N. Y. Evening Post.
A “Sell.”
A good deal of harmless enjoym ’nt
and amusement may often be derived
from what is commonly known as a
“ sell.” I am at a loss to discover any
more orthodox word to convey my mean
ing. I must, therefore, stick to the old
expression of “sell.” One of the oldest
and best-known anecdotes calculated to
produce this pleasing effect is that of
the young guardsman returning from
the Crimean war, who rubbed his hands
with glee on board ship, and, in so do
ing, rubbed off a ring presented to him
by liis inamorata , winch fell into the
sea. His position was an awkward one,
as she had vowed she would never mar
ry him if he lost that ring. The story
goes that, on his arrival in England, he
was eating some fish at dinner, when
lie suddenly felt something hard in his
mouth. He removed it, and what do
you think it was ? If the story has been
well told, the audience are sure to reply,
as with one voice : “ The ring!” Your
rejoinder is : “No! only a fishbone.”
Whitehall Review.
Indiana has a law to prevent weak
minded persons marrying. A crusty
bachelor insinuates that the weak-mind
ed are the only persons who ever think
of doing such a thing.
FOUR-LEAVED CLOVER,
“ If one find a four-leat clover”
(?he said, sitting on the grass)
“ He can wish whate’er he likes to—
And that wish shall come to pass.”
“Do you say so?” Then, down kneeling
’Mong the sorrel and cropt grass,
Looked 1 for a four-leaf clover
And my wish to come to pass.
Long I searched among the sorrel.
Close beside me she searched, too;
Now and then so*me commonplaces
Broke the silence—but it grew.
For my heart was full of yearning.
And my mouth of eager words.
But 1 dared not give them utterance—
So 1 hearkened to the birds;
And kept looking, looking, looking,
While beside me she looked, too—
Two bent figures in the twilight.
Green hills paling into blue.
“Ha! Ihaveone!” “Yes, and wished for?”—
“You! and shall it be?” I cried.
Eyes cast down, she asked, demurely:
“ Hath the clover not replied?”
—Houyhton's "•Niagara and Other Poems'’
Tlie Potato Scarcity.
Notwithstanding the fact that there is
a promise of an excellent potato crop
this year all over the country the prices
of potatoes are higher now than they
have been for years. During the past
week there was an advance of nearly
one hundred per cent, over the prices
asked the week before, and potatoes
that brought four dollars a barrel at
wholesale now sell for seven dollars, and
even more. The fact that large quanti
ties of potatoes are now brought to New
York from Long Island does not seem in
any way to affect the price. The incon
sistency between the receipts of potatoes
from all points and the prices they bring
lias given rise to the suspioion that there
is a strong speculative interest in pota
toes that has succeeded in creating a
corner. The suspicion has not been'di
minished by a rumor to the effect that
thousands of dollars’ worth of potatoes
have been thrown into the North and
East Rivers by interested persons. Mr.
John Sutherland, among others, is
strongly inclined to give credence to
this rumor, and even goes so far as to
say he knows it to be true, and Mr.
Sutherland is not apt to speak without
book. Dock Commissioner Vanderpoel,
when asked about the dumping of pota
toes in the river and bay, said that such
a thing could scarcely be done without
the Dock Department’s knowledge of
the fact; and the Commissioners had not
been notified that potatoes had been
thrown into the waters of the harbor.
He believed, therefore, the rumor was
without foundation. But he could give
no other reason for his belief.
Many produce-dealers were visited by
the reporter. None of them were in
clined to admit that there was any truth
in the report that potatoes had been
wilfully destroyed for the sake of cre
ating a corner in the market. They
sa : d that it would be next to impossible
to bring the market up much higher
than it now is. Last season’s drought
was especially severe upon food staples.
Fortunately, however, Europe had
raised a surplus of the vegetables the
supply of which failed in the United
States, and large shipments were at
once made and continued during the
fall and winter. Nearly all kinds of
vegetables, including cabbages, turnips,
beets and cauliflowers, came over, but
the most useful and important were
beans and potatoes. The following is a
statement of the monthly imports of po
tatoes from October, 1881, and of ar
rivals till June 1, 1882:
Great
Britain, Continent, Total,
Sachs. Sachs. Sachs.
October 5,519 1,055 0,574
November 10,148 3,834 13,483
December 15,658 9,281 24.937
Total 31,323 13,670 44,993
IHS2.
January 23,434 620 24,054
February 187,705 12,446 200,151
March 363,671 9,051 372,723
April 393,059 15.254 408,313
May 77,030 2,144 79,224
Total 1,076,272 53,185 1,129.457
Arrivals of potatoes still continue
from Europe, but in a greatly dimin
ished quantity, only about 6,100 sacks
having been received during the past
month. In addition to this, the old
crop of American potatoes, which was
originally short, is now used up, and
there is not enough of the new crop to
supply the deficiency. These seem to
be the conditions that account for the
present high price of potatoes, and the
difficulty will be removed as soon as
large supplies of new potatoes begin to
accumulate. Until then it is safe to pre
dict verv high prices.
Mr. William Gamble, a prominent
produce dealer, said: “There has been
no forced corner in potatoes, so far as I
know. The lack of supply could not be
helped. There were no potatoes to sup
ply the demand, and of course the
prices went up. So soon as the new
supply begins to come in you will see a
tumble in prices. The crop is a large
one, but it is late. I don't believe in
speculators throwing potatoes overboard
to bull the market. Some time ago two
cargoes of spoiled potatoes were
brought here, and the Board of Health
re used to allow them to be landed.
They were then dumped in the lower
bay. That may have given rise to this
rumor. How else it originted I can
not say. You can take my word for it,
there lias been no corner except such as
has keen made by the lateness of the
new and the exhaustion of the old crop
of potatoes.— N. Y. World,
It takes a country school-master for
shrewdness. When the weather is cold
and the school-house imperfectly heated
he puts the head of the class nearest
the stove, and then all the scholars work
like blazes to rank high in their studies.
Love is a sentiment so delicate that a
lover should never know he is loved but
by divining it.
SUBSCRIPTION-^?.
NUMBER 51.
WIT AND WISDOM.
—Never run in debt for what you
c: nnot pay for to-morrow.
—At the West Point review the other
day General Howard had his hat on
hi and side before. Perhaps he is ooraing
out with anew style of tactics.—Bur
linyton Haw key c.
—There is no antidote for the poison
used by the Carribeau Indians on their
arrows. If you want to be safe have a
p wnoe shoot you with a bullet.—De
troit Free Press.
Where are we going this summer?
Paraguay, dear reader/Paraguay. That
is the country where you are expected
to kiss every woman to whom you’re in
treduced.—Lowell Citizen.
“So Garibaldi is dead,” said an
Omaha girl yesterday. “I remember
his name perfectly because he invented
those Garibaldi waists we used to wear
a few years ago.” There is nothing
exactly like fame. —Chicago Tribune.
—“Deacon Jenkins was yesterday
threatened with a severe attack of con
cussion of the spine, but is now out of
danger,” was the way the editor stated
that the deacon got over the fence in
time to escape the old ram.— Boston
l ost.
—The Boston Transcript !s sad once
more. It remarks: “It is now affirmed
that poor digestion is caused by weak
eyes. And we had always supposed just
the opposite, namely, that dyspeptics
were generally people with eyes bigger
than their stomachs.”
—Don’t carry a million sovereigns in
your pockets for fifteen years. In that
time, we are told, they will lose in
weight, by wear and tear, one-half of
one per cent., or about $25,000, and
this sum is an important item at the
present price of beef.— Norristown Her
ald,
—A gentleman is a rarer thing than
some of us think for. Which of us can
point out many such in his circle—men
who are generous, whose truth is con- .
stunt and elevated, who can look the
world honestly in the face with an
equal, manly sympathy for the great
and the small? We ail know a hun
died whose coats are well made, and
score who have excellent manners, but
of gentlemen, how many? Let us take
a little scrap of paper and each make
his list.— Thackeray.
—“I have one of the best pianos in
the world; it was made to order for me.
I have had it ten years, and it nas only
been tuned three times since, and it is
in pretty fair tune now; try it,” she
said, as she opened the lia. “Now,
how often ought a piano to be tuhodP*
“Well, madam, that depends on what
kind of a piano it is, what sort of care
is taken of it, lyid who uses it. An
artist has his piano tuned every time he
uses it, professional people every time
it needs it, purchasers of first-class in
struments three or four times a year,
and people with solo-leather ‘ears,
never. ” — Music.
Harness.
How often does it happen to see fann
ers wording their horses to wagons,
plows, dr carts, with harness so ill-tit- '
ting, tattered and patched, that the
sight at once illieits pity from any human
person? For such neglect, there is no
excuse, as the amount of harness neces
sary for plowing is so small that only
the most careless and slovenly farmer
has any excuse to offer. Wagon and
cart harness are more elaborate and
complicated, yet even they are simple
enough to be manufactured at home, if
certain portions are purchased at the
saddlers, such as buckles, rings, traces
and hames. Collars, best suited to our
Southern climate, are made of shucks;
these are easily procured, there being
many persons in every neighborhood
who are very adept in making them,
and when made to fit, are smooth, and
with them the shoulders never become
chafed, and being so cheap, can be re
placed as often as necessary.
Nothing betokens a poor improvident
farmer sooner than slouchy harness, to
say nothing of the damage they inflict
upon their poor dumb brutes. When
an animal is required to labor, the own
er should compare his case to theirs.
For instance, how would a man like to
follow a plow all day with shoes which
pinched his feet, or which had a rock in
them? Yet he would not suffer any
•more than the animal with a collar too
small, or a back-band which galled his
back, or ofte trace shorter than the oth
er; but unfortunately there are too
many who apparently care nothing for
these details, though in attending to
them depends in a great degree tneir
success.
On well regulated farms there is at
tached to each bam or stable a harness
room, where after being used, the har
ness is carefully hung upon pegs, there
to remain until wanted; when a rainy
day comes, then it is overhauled, mencf
ed and oiled. By this means, they not
only last longer, but are more comfort
able for the horses, and are proofs of a
thrifty management. When harness
is purchased complete, cheapness is not
always a wise consideration, because a
good set made of well-tanned leather,
properly put together, will in careful
hands outlast two or three of the flimsy
made ones.— Southern Industries.
“ Pray excuse me,” said a well
dressed young man to a young lady in
the second tier of boxes at the theater;
“I wish to go out and get some refresh
ments—don’t leave your seat.” A sailor
seated in the box near with his sweetheart,
and disposed to do the same thing, arose
and said: “ Harkee, Poll, I'm going
ashore to wet my whistle—don't fan
overboard while I’m gone.”