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HOW BUNGAY FOOLED HER. Max Adder , in X. Y. Weekly. Bunny, the real-estate agent over at Pencauer, suspected that Mrs. Bungay didn’t care as much for him as she ought to. So one day he went up to the citv after leaving word that he would he gone two or three days. While there he ar ranged with a friend to send a telegram to his wife at a certain hour, announcing that lie had been run over on the railroad and killed. Then Bungay came home and slip ping into the house unperceived, he secre ted himself in the closet in the sitting-room, to await the arrival of the telegram and to sec how Mrs. Bungay took it. After a while it come, and he saw the servant girl give it to his wife. She opened it. and as she read it she gave one little start. Then Bungay saw a smile gradually overspread her features. She rang for the girl, and when the servant came Mrs. Bungay said to her: “Marv, Mr. Bungay’s been killed. I've just got the news. I reckon I'll have to put on black for him, though 1 hate to give up my new bonnet for mourning. You just go round to the milliner’s and ask her to fetch me up some of the latest styles of widow’s bonnets, and tie a bunch of crape on the door, and then bring the undertaker here.” While Mrs. Bungay was waiting she smiled continually, and once or twice she danced around the room, and stood in front of the looking-glass, and Bungay heard her murmur to herself: “ I ain't such a bad-looking woman, either. I wonder what James will think of me ?” “ James!” thought Bungay, as his wid ow took her seat and sang softly, as if she felt particularly happy. “ Who in the thunder is James? She certainly can't mean that infamous old undertaker. Toombs? His name’s James, and lie’s a widower ; but it’s preposterous to suppose that she cares for him. or is going to prowl after any man for a husband so quick as this.” While he brooded, in horror, over the thought, Mr. Toombs arrived. The widow said : “Mr. Toombs, Bungay is dead; run over by a locomotive and chopped all up.” “ Very sorry to hear it madam ; I sym pathise with you in your affliction.” “ Thank you ;it is pretty sad. But I don’t worry much. Bungay was a poor sort ofa man to get along with, and now that lie's gone I'm going to stand it with outcrying my eyes out. A\ e'll have to bury him. 1 s'pose, though ?” “ That is the usual thing to do in such cases.” “ Well. I want you to 'tend to it for me. I reckon the Coroner ‘ll have to sit on him first. But when they get through, it you just collect the pieces and shake him into some kind of a bag and pack him into a colfin, I'll be obliged.” “Certaiirty. Mrs. Bungay. When do you 'want the funeral to occur ?” “ Oh, ’most any day. P'rhaps the soon er the better, so's we can have it over. It'll save expense, too, by taking less ice. I don’t want to spend much money on it. Mr. Toombs. Rig him up some kind of a cheap coffin, and mark his name on it with a brush, and bury him with as little fuss as possible. I'll come along with a couple of friends; and we'll walk. No carriages. Times are too hard.” “ I’ll attend to it.” “ And, Mr. Toombs, there is another matter. Mr. Bungay's life was insured for about twenty thousand dollars, and I want to get it as soon as possible, and when I get it I shall think of marrying again.” “ Indeed, madam !” “Yes; andean you think of anybody who'll suit me ?” “ I dunno. I might. Twenty thousand 3 r ou say he left ?” “ Twenty thousand; yes. Now, Mr. Toombs, you'll think me lol<l, but I only tell the honest truth, when I say that 1 prefer a widower, and a man who is about middle-age, and is in some business con nected with cemeteries.” “ llow would an undertaker suit you?" “I think very well, if I could find one, I often told Bungay that I wished he was an undertaker.” “Well, Mrs. Bungay, it’s a little kinder sudden; I havn't thought much about it; and old Bungay’s hardly got fairly settled in the world of the hereafter; but busi ness is business, and if you must have an undertaker to love you and look after that life insurance money, it appears to me that lam just about that kind of a man. M ill you take me ?” “ Oh, James ! fold me to your bosom ! James was just about to fold her. when Bungay, white with rage, burst from the closet, and exclaimed : “Unhand her, villain ! Touch that wo man and you die! Leave this house at once, or I’ll brain you with the poker ! And as for you, Mrs. Bungay, you can pack up your duds and quit. I've done with you ; I know now that you are a cold-hearted, faithless, abominable wretch ! Go, and go at once ! I did this to try you. and my eyes are opened.” “ 1 know you did, and I concluded to pay you in your own coin.” “ That’s too awful thin. It wont bold water.” “ It's true anyhow. You told Mr. Ma gill you were going to do it; and he told “’ lie did, hey? I'll bust the head off of him.” “ When you are really dead I will be a good deal more sorry, provided you don t make such a fool of yourself while you re ft 1 1 ve “ You will ? You will really be sorry ?” “ Of course!” “And you won't marry Toombs. ” here is that man Toombs? By George, I 11 go for him now ! He was mighty hungry lor that life insurance money! I'll step around and kick him at once while I m mad. We'll talk this matter over when 1 come back.” Then Bungav left to call upon loombs, and when he returned he dropped the s>ub- Sl.oO A YEAR. ject. Has drawn up his will so that his wife is cut oiF with a shilling if she em ploys Toombs as the undertaker. Oo Hot n Itnh.v ? On one of the delightful days last week, a young lady, well known in the exclusive first circles of society for unrivaled per sonal charms and elegance of accomplish ments. was driven around to make a con gratulatory call upon a married lady who was happily convalescent from that occa sional sacred event in the lives of wedded ladies, which, far from being a sickness, is the culmination of their health. She was shown into the parlor, and for the few minutes required to arrange for her recep tion in the room where mother and hild were doing as well as could he expected, was left with no other to entertain her than the only son and heir to the house. Master Charles, then in his fourth year. But Charles was equal to the situation, and promises to grow up into an ornament of society that will never be abashed by beauty, however brilliant, into the painful negative of “no conversation.” After some unessential preliminary remarks, Master Charles approached nearer the vis itor and. lowering his tone into the confi dential. asked— “ Miss . oo dot a baby?” The young lady gave one swift glance around to assure herself that there was no other hearer to this pertinent question, and replied— “No, Charlie, dear! I have not.” “ And did oo never have a baby?” In spite of the youth of her interlocutor, her handsome eyes dropped before bis in genious ga/.e, and her pretty face flushed as she replied— “ No. Charles. I never did. Is not this a beautiful day ?” “ And ain't oo never doin’ to have no baby ?" persisted Charlie, declining to en ter on the tempting conversational side track of weather. “My boy, 1 can't tell. Tell me all the names of whom these are the photographs.” •* And don't oo want a baby?” “ Why. Charlie, boy, what a close ques tioner you are ! If you are not careful, you will grow into one of those newspaper interviewers, and then what will your mamma think of you?” “ Because " con -vikvly */c fusing Zc switched off—“l know where oo .ui get one. The doctor brought my mamma one, and he kcepth them in his ofiith. You jutli go down Lilith threet to Market threet, and then oo go down Martet threet, ever so far, and den oo go up a lot of thairth. and thath where he teeps ’em. And they’re awful cheap, too. My papa hath'nt paid for my mamma's baby yet. but he'tli doin to.” “ Well, Charlie, I'm sure I am much obliged to you for your full directions, and I know just where to go.” “ Oh, Miss ,oo needn't go ! I'll tell my papa jfith ath soon ath ever he turns home that oo want a baby, he'll det one for 00, and—” That young lady seized the little boy by his two shoulders, and leaning over so as to look full into his eyes, she said, with an impressiveness lent by sudden terror — “ See here, Charlie, listen to me ! I don't want any baby yet, and if you ever say anything about it to your papa I'll never like you any more at all. at all—never, never ! Now will you promise?” “Well; if oo don’t want a baby. I w on't; but I to't everybody liked to have babicth. I do.” The interview was here terminated by the entrance of a servant to usher the visi tor into the presence of the convalescent lady. Slic Couldn't Njuirc lior Darling:. A young couple from Lebanon, says the News , appeared at the office of a squire to get married. The squire, who had been seen before, agreed to do the job at the lowest market price. The lady, a beautiful blonde, of twenty summers, looked gay and happy, while the countenance of the gentleman was careworn. The squire meant business, and was just about look ing up the form book, when the thought struck him that it was his duty first to learn the ages of the parties. The question “ How old are you?” had only been pro nounced to the young man, when before he could answer, in rushed mothers of the groom and bride almost breathless with excitement. A lively scene followed. The young man, still in nis teens, seeing his mother enter and taking in her intentions at a glance, joined with her at once in pro testing loudly against the imposition about to be consummated, exclaiming: “I was only in fun ; 1 am too young yet,” the mo ther hammer ing on the desk with her fist and crying out: " I can't spare my boj r , my darling. He's under age. I'll prose cute the squire if lie does it.” The would-be bride and her mother, equally excited and wildly jesticulating, insisted on the ceremony, saying: “ Now or never.” ” Squire do your own duty,” “ A bargain is a bargain.” ”No backing out!” Meanwhile the witnesses (females), who had gathered by request fled in terror to the adjoining room, leaving the bachelor squire to the mercies of the contending parties. The combatants cooled down, the would-be bride agreeing to wait a few years longer, at the risk of becoming an old maid, until her intended has attained three times seven. HARTWELL, GA„ WEDNESDAY, MAY 30, 1877. The Party. buriington Hawkey*. Some One Has lately begun To start a New party. Which, when !t is done, Is going to smash, Into eternal crash. All other parties under the sun. Whigs, Nigs, Fire-eating robs, Tramps, Scam ps, Reconstructed confeds ; Hot abolitionists. Raw prohibitionists. Labor reformers, frantic protectionists, A pair of High tariff Old Whig resurrectionists; All the old federalists. Butter and breadalists; Wild annexationists, Emancipationists, Texas rangers, Suspicious strangers, Illinois grangers, Rabid secessionists, nullificationists, Temperance agigators. Soft-voiced conciliators, Bruisers, Snoozers, Republican broilers, Barn burners, Coat turners, Tories, free-soilers; Communists, destructionists, Strict constructionists, Constitution revisionists, Bred Scott decisionists, I.oco- Foco, Baltimore knocks, (ieorgio lvu-Kltix, “ Blue lights,” dissensionists, Hartford conventionists, Fogy old-timers. Modern white-liners, Anti-monopolists, Bloated metropolists, Bondholders, huff 'uns, Border rullians, Ballot-box stuffy 'urs ; Bulldozers, back-trackers, Free niggers, White leaguers, Know-Nothing advisers, Ku-Iv 1u x compromisers, Temperance liberals. License wine bibberals, Sinners and ’publicans. Private and public ones, Till-tappers, Mouth-slappers, Hickory Democrats, three card monte men, Angels, devils, slouchy and jaunty men, Nobody, every one, sickly and hearty, Stanley Matthews has got anew party. Around. Detroit Free Press. They are sitting around upon barrels and chairs, Discussing their own and their neighbor's affairs. And the look of content that is seen on each face, Seems to say, “ I have found my appropri ate place,” Sitting around. In bar-rooms and groceries calmly they sit, And serenely chew’ tobacco, and spit. While the stories they tell, and the jokes that they crack. Show their hearts have growm hard and undoubtedly black, While sitting around. The “ sitter around ” is a man of no means. And bis face wouldn’t pass for a quart of w’hite beans. Yet he somehow or other contrives to exist. And is frequently seen with a drink in his fist While sitting around. The loungers they toil not, nor yet do they spin. Unless it be yarns while enjoying their gin. They are people of leisure, yet often 'tis true. They allude to the work they're intending to do While sitting around. They've habit of talking of other men’s wives As they whittle up sticks with their horn handled knives— They're a seal}’ old set, and w’herever you g° You'll find them in groups or strung out in a row. Sitting around. (.'tire for < onsumption. A correspondent of the Southern Plan tation writes as follows about the power of a well-known plant: ” I have discovered a remedy for pulmonary consumption. It has cured a number of cases after they had commenced bleeding at the lungs, and the hectic flush had already appeared on the cheek. After trying this remedy to my own satisfaction, I have thought philan thropy required that I should let it be known to the world. It is the common mullein steeped strong and sweetened with sugar, and drank freely. The herb should be gathered before the end of July, if con venient. Young or old plants are good dried in the shade and kept in clean paper bags. The medicine must be continued from three to six months, according to the nature of the disease. It is very good for the blood vessels. It strengthens and builds up the system, instead of taking awav strength. It makes good blood and takes inflamation away from the lungs. It is the wish of the writer that every period ical should publish this receipt for the ben efit of the human fiimily. Lay this up. and keep it in the house ready for use. VVlutt Ailed Hit Uhom. f'uek. u Hamlet was announced one night last week at an Indiana country theatre, and the Hoosiers had come in with their wives and babies from miles around, to be made acquainted with the melancholy Bane. All went on well until the ghost scene; in fact, his paternul ghostship had appeared, and in tremulous, sepulchral tones began to utter: “ I am thy fatli—” when suddenly the text gave place to a series of grunts and groans, indicative of intense bodily pain on the part of the apparition aforesaid. “ Go on ! go on !” came from all parts of the house, but the ghost didn't go on. Some loudly-whispered profanity was heard beliina the scenes, and it became evident that there was something rotten in the state of Denmark. Finally the ghost seemed to brace up, and tried it again. “1 am thy fath —ugh—oh, Lord. Some more brandy, there—quick !” In the midst of the confusion which en sued, the manager made his appearance at the footlights. “My friends,” said he, “ I regret to say that the gentleman who was cast for the role of the ‘ Ghost ’ this evening, has been suddenly altacked with cholera morbus. Is there any physician in the house?” “ Here,” said a jolly, good natured man in the front row. “I'm a doctor. Show me the patient.” They led him to where the spectre lay, out in the fly, writhing in all the contor tions of green apple stomach ache. He felt his pulse, loosened the sufferer’s shirt collar, looked at him a moment and then smiled. “ Well, doctor,” gasped the manager, “ and what do you . “Make of it. ray dear sir,” answered the doctor. “ Why, I call it a clear case of what is known as cholera-in-phantom.” A ('use of Kpoiititnooiis fomlMiNlion. San Francisco Post. A most horrible and sickening death oc curred in Kernan's saloon, in the backyard of the City Hall, at a quarter past ten o'clock this morning, being no less than the spontaneous combustion of a human body. The victim was a man who had not been more than a month in the city, but during that time had been frequently ar rested for drunkenness. He wandered about alone, seemingly demented, occupy ing his w’hole time in drinking the vile poi son of the city front and Barbary Coast dens. He has twice been treated by Dr. Strivers for delirium tremens, and was this morning discharged after a longer time than usual. With a seemingly insane de sire for drink, he continued from thirty minutes past seven o'clock drinking stead ily at the various bars in the vicinity, and the large size of each potation promised to speedily send him back to the hospital About the time mentioned lie staggered into the room nearly insensible, and feebly asked for a drink. This was refused him. and he staggered toward the gas jet to light the stump of a cigar he carried, w hile the barkeeper turned away to attend to his du ties. A moment afterward he heard a low moan and noticed a flash of fire, and turn ing around he saw Ilarlev falling to the floor, his head enveloped in black, thick smoke, while flames issued from his mouth and ears. A horrible smell of burned flesh filled the air. Not a moment was lost in attending to the sufferer. Be was beyond relief, however. His face w r as per fectly black, partly charred and partly covered with a moist soot. His eyes were open. llis mouth was completely roasted on the inside, but. with the exception of his head and hands, no part of his body bore marks of his horrible death. A let ter found in his pocket, addressed to M. Harley or Hartley, furnishes the only clue to his identity. There. Detroit Free Frees. The average Detroit boy sees bis oppor tunity in winter as well as in summer, and he makes the most of it. Yesterday after noon, as an old man was driving a stout sled up Michigan avenue, having two or three kegs of beer in a box, a boy called out to him : “Say there! Wheel's coming off!” The old man nulled up, looked around, and the boy said : You'd better look out —hind wheel’s coming off.” The driver got down, looked his sled ali over, felt of the braces, and inspected clear to the dash board, and then asked : “ Vhat you say? Vhat proke?” “ I said the hind wheel was coming off,” replied the boy. The man made another inspection, gave the sleigh a shake, and all at once called out: “ Vyh. dere is no hind wheel on here.” He heard the boys snickering as he climbed into the sled, but he didn’t look i back. NUMBER 40. A COMPOSITION ON PARENTS. Parents are bom to be a grent trouble to thoir offspring. They upset all a fellow’s plans. It would be lolly not to have any. When 1 was ever so little, I remember. I tried to hang up the kitten by my whip lash, and mother took the kitty, boxed my ears, and went and drowned it herself next day. So she had all the fun to herself; and father's worse than mother. He told me to take care of the pennies and the dol lars would take care of themselves ; so I nt\d Hen Smith formed an Anti-Swearing Club. We had a rule that for every profane word used we should pay a cent in the treasury. Wo had seventy-five cents in the first day, but when we divided, and I fetched thirty-seven and a half cents home, father said it was a bad business, whipped ine and broke up the club. How is a fel low to know when he is doing right? If I had no parents to bound me around I’d beat George Washington all holler, for I'd cut down every cherry tree in the garden, and own it too. If I was an orphan, l know what I’d do to-morrow. Ben Smith and me would go straight to a desolate South Sen Island and stir up the goats and monkeys and other things, crack cocoanuts, fry toadstools, eat oranges a spell, then we'd make a ship and sail around the world. What’s the use of dry ing up in one place? 1 told mother one day when she wouldn’t give me ten cents, that I meant to go a whaling and 1 hoped a whale would swallow me, as one did Jo nah, and then she would never seo me again, for I can’t swim. She said I would not be likely to make much of a visit, for I would turn the whale’s stomach mighty •quick after l got there. Wasn’t she bully ? If l were a parent I know what I’d do ; I'd keep still, and mind my own business, and let my children have some fun. There’s Tom Cults lives with his aunt, and lias a bully time. lie goes wood-chucking und ecling Sunday, lias no best clothes, and no pocket handkerchiefs to bother him, crawls under the canvass of circus tents, earns money at the theatre, sleeps in the stable when he likes, ami always has his pocket full of peanuts. lie says he would not he bothered with parents, if he could have ’em for nothing, and he thinks if I hadn't any it would ue money in my poc ket. Them’s my sentiments. Anordotm of Jmlae IT ml or wood. Reminiscences of an Oid Georgia Laxcytr. Judge Underwood, like Judge l)oolcj r , luul his controversies with his landlords at the taverns, but, unlike Dooley, all in a good-humored way. At a court, thinking his landlord was remiss, he asked John Mabry if he had taken the oath #f the Special Bailiff. “ Because you have ‘kept us, without meat, drink or fire—candlelight4 n d w u f cr, ari4UeU*4M'oath which is administered to the Baliff before he takes charge of the jury, John Mabry, and from the way you have kept up this court, I thought you must have taken it. If you have. John Mabry, I can certify you have scrupulously observed it.” He never forsook horseback and saddle bags, while I knew him, for buggies or railroads, and alw’ays rode a fine animal, about which lie felt great anxiety. Stop ping all night with Charter Campbell, of Madison, w hen his bill was presented next morning, he said : “ Well ! Mr. Campbell, do yon really think I owe you three dollars for the en tertainment of me and my grey-horse, Cherokee?” “Oh ! yes, Judge ! it is a fair and usual charge.” “ Well ! Mr. Campbell, if the poet had stopped wdth you, instead of saying, “ man wants but little here below nor wants that little long,” he might have said, “if man has but little here below, and stops with you, he will not have that lit tle long.” During the Know-Nothing campaign, a drummer recommending his tavern, said, “It was a Know-Nothing house,” when Judge U. replied : “ Well ! it the landlord knows less than Jim Toney— his old landlord of the tavern —I shall not risk m3 r self with him.” Having been asked the politics of a friend, whom he accused of fickleness, he said : “ I can’t say, for I have not seen him since dinner.” Judge Thomas, of Elbert—in which county Underwood once lived—meeting him, said the people of that county would like to sec him there, and he (Thomas) thought he could make a pleasant visit to the old place. “ Yes,” said Judge U., “ there is an hon est stupidity about the people of Elbert which is amusing, and which I rather like.” Some citizen of the county, who took the remark of Underwood as offensive, meeting him afterwards, rebukingly said, he ought to take it back. “ Well, said the Judge, I will take part of it back, and since the county voted for Buchanan I will withdraw the word ‘honest.’” For a long time he was accused of being an old Federalist, of the John Adam's school—which, in Georgia, then, was little short of a charge of theft, and having been taunted with it by a politician, who said, “ there has always been but two parties in the country, and we class you with the Federalists, for all know that is your place.” “ Yes,” said Underwood, “there nave always been two parties, Federalists and fools, and I have never heard you ac cused of belonging to the Federalists.” On being importuned to move to the town of Marietta, he said he would not like to live there, but thought it the best place to die in that he knew of, and gave as the reason that he could leave it with fewer regrets than any other place in the world. And what may seem a strange co incidence, he died in Marietta. Action should follow thought. No farm er can plough a field by turning it over in his mind.