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THAT LITTLE WIDOW.
Shf* was just the neatest little woman
In the world—always smiling, always
fresh, plum)), and deep in her forties
one of the kind who smooth their aprons
down when they talk to you. Then the
little cigar shop at the corner wlieroshe
kept, and where she rattled on al*out
different brands of tolmcco, and talked
of tlie weather to her customers, and
the kindness which any tale of sorrow
was told by the many vagrants called
forth from her—the many times her fat
little hand went into the drawer for
change to be bestowed on some charita
ble plea—all went to make up the l>est
tempered, the most motherly and the
nieest little woman you would ever
chance to meet.
So thought Dr. Ash. who lived next
door, and who often went in for a little
snuff, you know, but who invariably
netllcd his wig a little more rakishly be
fore popping into the shop. He used
to say to her “My ! you must be lone
ly here, widow Thorn!”
“Oh! not at all, sir, thanking you
site would reply.
•• I wonder you never married a sec
ond time, Widow Thorn!"
“ Well, it is n wonder, isn’t it doctor,
but von see I'm such a queer old body
that I guess not many could fancy me."
“Madam, there you must stop! *1
cannot hear the divine sex disparaged,"
returned the doctor. He was as they
say of the old school.
She laughed.
“ Can't a woman speak against her
self?" she asked.
“No ! she never speaks against her
self unless she means to flatter herself
by contradictory disparagement when
someone is near.”
*• Sir, 3*on are too plain."
“ Widown Thom, I was always called
plain, and this wig’s too big for me."
Then she laughed at him, and what
promised to be a quarrel ended in a
merry* “good night."
Then there was the baker at the cor
ner. lie was a widower, and he used
to come in of an evening, for a chat
:jhml a cheap cigar.
Said he : “This lonely state is mis
erable, isn't it?"
“Do you speak from experience?"
askod she.
"Yes; ray* Maria's been dead four
teen years." said he.
“ I shouldn't think it would take so
long a time for 3*oll men to forget any
thing,” she said! 1
'* Aii! ma’am, man is a wonderful
being—the most wonderful of God’s !
creatures."
“ Except woman," said slie.
•“You're right, Widow! ami that's
the reason the Lord meant that every
man should have a wife and every wo
man st Imsband, just to make him equal.
hu 1 think you and 1 must have new
partners.
“ Now look here, Mr, Johns ! You've
had your partner and I've had mine,
and death lias dissolved the partner
ship. Now we're both bankrupt, and
we can't carry on a joint business ; so
we must go on pleasantly," she said,
and laughingly bade him good-night.;
Wo had to laugh, too. for she seemed
to expect him to do nothing else.
Then there was the old bachelor over
the way who was learning the ha S ion.
He used to come to his window on
summer evenings when the widow was
standing at her door for a breath of
fresh air, and 110 would blow away at
“ The Last Link Is broken," till it was
a wonder lie did not rupture something
and dfc lie did not smoke, nor drink,
nor chew. Hut a brilliant idea struck
him one day*, and over he went.
“ Do you keep paper collars, ma'am,"
he asked, tremblingly*.
“Yes, sir.” she answered, smoothing
her apron down.
“ Give me some,” he said vaguely.
“ What size?"
‘Oh ! any* size !—I don't care.'
She looked at him.
‘ Don’t you knowy*onr number,' she
asked.
No ma’am! But I don’t care much.”
“Lnd!” she ejaculated. “ Here, sir,
just take your collar otr, and let me
measure it for you.”
So he did. and she handed him an
other one in place of it.”
“That'll fit you sir," she said.
Then he tried to put it on, and his
hand trembled so lie broke out one of
the button-holes.
“ Now it's done, sir.” said she.
“ I’m afraid I am,” said he.
“ Sir.”
“ I mean I—•l'm afraid if is.”
Then she took up another, and out of
compassion she said :
“ Let me button it for you. All men
are death on buttons and button holes
—I know by poor Thorn,”
Then she fitted on the collar and the
bachelor was ecstatic. As he handed
her his change she said :
“ You're the gentleman that plays
such sweet, dreary tunes on the horn,
are you not?”
u Yes. I play a little, bnt it's dread
ful lonely playing all by myself."
h Isn’t there any one but you?” she
inquired,
•• No, I'm cursed —I'm a bachelor.”
“ Deary me! that is bad ! I'd ask
you over here to play sir ”
“ Oh !*’ ho interrupted,
“ Bnt I’m afraid the doctor next door
would come in and ask if anybody was
hurt,” she continued.
“O !” he said again, in quite a dif.
ferent tone, and left. Five minutes af
ter he was moaning out “The Last link
is Broken,” as if that link had in its
soundness held Heaven and earth to
gether. The doctor needed a lot of
snuff: the baker was clearly smoking
himself into the grave with his Maria :
VOL. II—N'O. ISL
and the bachelor used so many paper
collars that the little widow ordered as
| many boxes of his as she did of all the
other sizes put together. Hut at last,
one night, came the maid servant from
next door pounding up the Widow
Thom, telling her to come in, for the
doctor was ill and didn't know any
body. Hastily throning on her dress,
in she went, and she saw him lying
there In a state of collapse, his
wig over one eve.
“(linger and cayenne pepper and
brandy,” ordered the little widow,
i while she held his head. Then, forcing
the fiery liquid down his throat, she
held him tight, while he sputtered and
gasped for breath.
•• Whatever is the matter with him?”
asket the frightened servant.
“ Cucumbers !" remarked the widow
—for she had seen the doctor inarch
home that afternoon with two fine speci
mens of that proverbially cool vege
table in his hand. Then, the doctor
becoming better, she went home as
cheerful as ever, and slept the dream
less sleep of the innocent and the non
dyspeptic.
Early the next morning the baker
called.
“ I hear that Dr. Ash was sick last
night, and that you went in?” almost
as if he had a right to ask.
“ Yes," she answered. “ The girl
came for me, and I did the little 1
could. l'oor old chap ! It’s a pity* he
never married. He might have had a
wife ami family around him. instead of
a poor ignorant servant girl who calls
up the neighbors for trifling little
causes."
“ Widow, that’s what I always say*.
A lone man is the devil's delight,—if
you'll excuse profanity*. Everything
conspires to make his life unbearable.
What ailed the doctor? ’
“ ()h ! he'd eaten too freely of cu
cumbers."
“ Widow Thorn, you know I'm as
much alone as he is."
“ Why—bless me sir—what are you
driving at?" she asked.
“ Nothing,” he said, with a melan
choly* smile, and left the shop.
Ten minutes lAter she saw him go
home with five overgrown cucumbers in
his haml*. she knew how many, for she
pulled a box in the window aside to
Count them. She gently smoothed her
apron down and shook her head. She
expected as much, and more. Just at
that moment in came the bachelor from
over the wav.
“Is anybody sick next door mam,"
he asked.
“Yes. sir. Dr. Ash was taken sick
last night. Why?”
“ T was playing ‘ We Met 'Twas in a
Crowd * late, feeling miserable, and I
saw his servant come here, and saw you
go in with her, What ailed him?”
‘ Now sir, I can t tell you. I am
afraid I've been the innocent cause of
future agony* to the baker at the corner
by* telling him; so if y ou'll excuse me
we'll say the doctor was imprudent.'
“ I'm afraid I'm that myself ma'am.”
he said, low spiritedly*; and lately I've
got to feel a pain here. And he point
ed in the region of his heart, that is,
his left side, where nobody's heart is
you know.
‘ Oh, yett play* too vigorous, sir,' she
said. “ I once knew a gentleman who
played the fife lovely*; but he died sud
denly*, sir, and the doctor who opened
him told me he was as clear as a whis
tle inside, sir—his own identical words
•clear as a whistle.’ Everything had
gone.”
“ Hut I dare say he was a married
man?”
“ Yes, indeed,” a blessed w ife and—
•• I've poured cold water down m,V
spine till I'm almost paralyzed, and I
want you to treat me as you did the
doctor.”
“ YoU do? Then wait! I’ll mix the
•lose for yon.”
And she did so. She brought it to
him. made him take a gulp, and he sat
down immediately on the floor, white
and choking. There was quite tiie
look of a heroine about the little wid
ow then.
“ Now go home,” she said, kindly ;
“ go to bed and let me know to-morrow
how you feel.” and casting a strange,
bewildered look at her, he obeyed.
Now after it was twilight the little
woman closed the shop, went to her
room, put on her neat old-fashioned
bonnet, and going down stairs, locked
her house door from the outside, and
was on the pavement, when up came
the servant from the baker's.
“ What is the matter with you ?'
asked the little widow.
“Oh, mem! he's took so bad that he
can't speak, and he’s calling for you all
the time.”
“ Oh, I know what’s the matter with
him. Come inside, .Jane, and I'll send
him something to cure him.”
Then Jane went inside and the little
woman mixed atumblerfull of a certain
compound.
“ Five cucumbers!” she said— 1 M and
tlie doctor only had two ! Consequently
lie’ll need as much again and a little
more pepper!” [Fhe had quite a head
for reckoning, I assure vou.J She gave
the glass to the girl and went out again
HARTWELL, GA., WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 2, 1878.
and locked the door. ” I hope it wont
hurt him!“ said the little widow.
“All! That the reason. 11l never
die that way, nmjiin, for there's imhody
to ipiNim tor me. I'll keep on blowing
till, after a while, you'll hear tln* hchgrs
roJKnf in me, and I'll play the same
tunc twice nt oijcc) and one a bar be
hind the other.”
“Oh,goodiua* gracious 41c 1" shesaid,
“ von'il bcttei'see a doctor."
Then he shook his head sadly and
went out.
tshe sat in the little shop for au hour
or more, writing a long letter, fcdie
inked her finger*, said “ Ixtthor” to the
pen for spluttering, folded the letter
crookedly, retifded it straightly, directed
the envelope, put a stamp vn the left
hand corner, went out, dropped it in the
box, and came to Dr. Ash's door,
knocked, inquired how lie did, and came
home again. Then I think she was
busy* for quite? a time, as all such am
ooii in poppisl the doctor, with a
huge bouquet in his hand.
“ You have saved my life, ma'am,”
said lie.
“Nonsense!” sha exclaimed ; but she
smiled in a pleasant way, too.
Then lie put the flowers beside her,
pressed her hand, and went to see his pa
tients*
The little widow hummed a tunc,
tapping tier foot on the floor, late in the
afternoon, when the bachelor from over
the way* rushed to her.
" I’ve done it ma’am," lie said shiv
ering.
“ Lord bless the man! What have
you done?”
“ I've been imprudent."
“ How?”
Next day th; shop was not opened.
The doctor tried the door and found it
closed. The baker, rather shaken, came
by* and looked in in astonishment.
The bachelor peered from his window
and wondered. Hut for all that the
little shop was closed, it remained all
that day and night. The doctor was
for breaking in the door to see if she
was inside, ill or—dead. The baker
seconded the motion ns night approach
ed. Hut just then the bachelor came
over.
“ Maybe she’s gone over to visit ,’’
said be.
“Yes, on some errand of mercy,”
chimed in the doctor. “She is a capi
tal nurse, that I can testify to.”
“So can I,” said the baker, dubious
ly.
“ She never nursed you, sir!” said the
doctor.
“ Neither did she you !” said the ba
ker.
“Sir! ’ exclaimed the doctor, looking
like thunder.
“Sir!" exclaimed tin; baker, looking
as much like thunder as a baker can
look. r
“ I would have you know, sir,,” said
the doctor, “ that I am superior to any
insult which a dough-kueader may otter
me!”
“And I to any foolishness on the
part of a sawbones."
“Now, look here,” said the bachelor.
“ I \\tts sick and she gave me the same
kind of medicine she did the doctor !”
‘‘She sent me the same,” said the ba
ker.
“ She eatnc into my house and held
my head while 1 took it/’ said the doc
tor. lie was triumphant.
Then, after much Haggling and quar
reling, they look at the house again, and
agreeing that she would certainly return
by to-morrow, they took their way to
their respective homes.
And behold ! to-morrow the good lit
tle shop was opened, and the same ar
ray of goods met the gaze of the pas
sers by. The little woman was seen up
stairs dusting the shutters. She nodded
to the milkman ami ice man as usual;
and at last the bachelor saw her and
over he went, and met the doctor step
ping off his door step.
“ Are you going in sir?” asked the
doctor.
“Yes," said the bachelor,
“ Do you snuflT’
“No, I go for collars.”
“Then we’ll go together.” And to
gether they went. A tall sunburned
man was there —-elderly but big and
brawny,
The doctor spoke up, though he was
a little shaken.
“ Wc—f—that is—We should like to
seethe Widow Thorn, sir.”
‘ There ain’t such a person,’ said the
man grinning. ‘She’s gone —vamosed
pegged out.’ *
‘He Is drunk!’ whispered the bache
lor. I saw her myself before Icame in,
up stairs.
What’s that you observed ? asked the
stranger.
Sir, we want the Widow Thom tbold
ly exclaimed the doctor.
And you may keep on wanting that,
old lady, but she won’t come for want*
ing.
Then the pleasant voice of the little
womau sounded from the Dext room,
Now, Charlie, do just behave your--
self. And there she was before them,
neater looking than ever.
Oh,! Widow, good morning, said the
doctor.
No more widow than I am ; chimed
in the strange map, laughing.
Now (’hurley, do hclmvc; said the lit
tle woman ; hiul gentlemen, turning to
the doctor and baclielor, let me intro
duce Mr. Charley, my husband.*
Your hlsbahd ! they both cried.
Yes, gentlemen wo have Ivon p'ing
; to get married for years and years, hut
lie vowed he would never marry me till
lie had liccii suocessfltl in the mines;
’ ami he has been now. We were mar
, wed yesterday in Boston, f wrote him
a letter telling him 1 would meet him
there—and here we are. Hut we will
soli out this little place as soon ns we
find a customer.
Without a Worn the doctor grabbed
the bachelor by the back of the neck,
hauled hint oht and tumbled him ovei
, the baker, who was coming innocently
into the shop! nnd the three were down
•on tin* pavement, where Mr. Charley
! picked them up. And when they were
dusting themselves he stood for a min
! ute in the doorway and sang out!
And if you ask for the \\ iilow Thorn
11 will tell you there is not such a per*
| son ! and went In and closed the door,
j- The doctor went, home and abused
bis servant; the linker was seen to take
the tumbler which had held the medi
cine of two nights before, and which be
longed to the little widow, nnd dti. li it
j to a thousand fragments in the back
yard; and the bachelor all that day and
I evening sat at his third story window
j and played The Last link is Broken, on
[the bassoon, in polka time, with neccle
: rated passages when the compass of the
' instrument gave out.
I Thus may* innocence east its halo
around too-trusting human nature.
NEVADA’S WOMH.itfill, CAVE.
Million-, ll|M> M• 11 inns ill I lilllil mill
Silii'r.
Frotit thf Tirtfitii't /Cnterpritw.
Oausux. November 27.
For many years there has been liv
ing in the Walker river range of moun
tains a man named Algernon H. Grant,
who very rarely sought the haunts or
habitations of white men. llis ostensi
ble occupation was prospecting for pre
cious metals, but the fact of bis long
anil uninterrupted residence in those
wilds pointed to the fact, of his non
sueeess in that, direction. Mr. Grant
was in this city a few days since, and
the following is an extract from his
wonderful and interesting history : He
is a native of Ijourlam county, Ken
tucky, having been horn there in IH2A,
lie was sent to Harvard College, where
he graduated in 1H4(I, second in his
class. In 18M Ik* was admitted to
practice in the Supreme Court of Ken
tucky. He enjoyed nluorativc practice
until the breaking out of the rebellion,
when he entered the ('onfederate service,
receivings commission of Major in one
of the Kentucky regiments. In I lie
meantime Grant had married and gath
ered a little family around him. These
he at, that time had taken to the South
ern jjortion of Kentucky, and placed
them under tin* protection of relatives.
When the war ended he pictured to
himself in rapturous delight the happi
ness that would fall to his lot when he
could once again gaze upon the facesof
his loving wife and dear children, lie
took passage for Southern Kentucky.
Upon arriving at, the spot, where his
hopes and happiness were centred,
there awaited him nothing but, a mass
of charred ruins. The strong man dis
mounted from hi.s horse and sat, down
upon the ground, weeping like a child,
lie learned that at amt a year before t In
close of the war a small band of strag
gling troOps bad infested that, portion
of Kentucky, and that the family of
Grant had been murdered, and the in
cendiary torch had been brought into
play. In the early spring of lHOti lie
engaged passage in a mule train which
was then about crossing the plains,and
afterward arrived in this State, and
emigrated to the roost extreme southern
end of the Walker river mountains,
where he has been existing ever since,
only at rare intervals seeing the detes
ted face of a white man.
A number of the Walker river tribe
looked ii]) to him with great reverence,
supposing him to be endowed with su
pernatural powers. About two months
ago one of these Indians, who laid been
a recipient of special favors at the hands
of Grant, desirous of exhibiting his
gratitude, requested our hero to accom
pany him on a two days’ ramble through
the mountains, and lie would show him
a cave wonderfully rich with gold and
silver. What direction of the compass
the party followed, Grant is reluctant
about revealing. At all events, after
traveling about two days and a half,
mif hero and his companion arrived at
dusk one evening in a narrow canon, or
mountain gorge, enclosed on either side
by rugged, steep mountains. In this
vicinity, the Inman said, the cave was
located. A camp fire was lighted, and
while Grant, was cooking supper his
companion went in search of the exact
lix-ation of the cave so that, no time
would be lost in finding it in the morn
ing. The Indian returned with joy im
printed upon his copper colored fea
ture and imparted to Grant the satis-
factory tidings that he had found the
cave without dillleultv, and that not
withstanding the darkness which then
prevailed, the interior of this wonderful
vault was as light as noonday. At an
early hour next morning, after travel
ing in this caiUin, Which is many* miles
in length, for an hour, or maybe a little
less, the Indian pointed to n pile of
granite of immense weight, stacked up
against the ernggod side of a monster
mountain, and told Grant that by re
; moving the Ixmlders an entrance to I In*
cave could he effected. The two men
immediately set to work at their hercu
lean task, which occupied them nearly
two hdftrs. When the obstruction was
removed, all that could bo seen was an
opening leading into the mountain, of
dimensions only great enough to admit
the bodies of two largely* developed
men ; blit the interior was as dark ns
Erehits. Grant, entered into this open
ing to the distance of about ten feet, j
hut, the intensity of the darkness pre
cluded him from seeing his hands be
fore his face, lie cried out to his coni-!
panion for some burning sagebrush,
which was immediately thrust into the
cave, but, strange to relate, this artifi
cial light would not illuminate the dark-j
ness. Here wils rt nice pass. Gfatit j
emerged from his subterranean visit
and consulted with his semi-savage
companion as to the most, expedient
mentis to be employed in tin* emergen
cy* ; it was useless to seek for gold or
anything else in so dark a place where
artificial light proved of no avail. The
Indian then repeated his story of the
illumination which lie saw in the cave
t!u* preceding n : ght. Although this
yarn sounded rather improbable in the
ears of an intelligent white man. yet
the Indian was so earnest and sincere.,
to all outward appearances, that our
hero decided to remain until the stars
came out. and determine whether t here
was any truth in his companion'd fab
ulous narration. The men returned to
the camping ground of the previous
night, ami brought their traps to the
mouth of the mysterious cave, It
seemed as if that day never would
draw to a close, so great, was Grant's
impatience; but as twilight was ap
pUMwhing n slight glimmer wan dis
cernible at the mouth of the vault, yet
the blackest darkness mortal ever be
held was still holding sway therein,
lint gradually, as night, was falling, an
unnatural light was making itself ap
parent, ami at !> o'clock that, evening n
ray of brilliant noonday light was shot
out from the opening of that wonderful
subterranean passage. For the first
time in many years Grant gave vent to
a shout of delight. The Indian's tide
of seeming fiction and improbability
was true. The sight was so grand, so
wonderful, and so inagnittcant. that for
a few minutes Grant wes rooted to the
ground bv a combination of terror and ,
admiration. After awhile he and his
companion entered the cave, but tin
light was so piercing all 1 brilliant Unit 1
for a few seconds the pair could see
nothing; their vision seemed to he
.lost,; but gradually theif eyes became
accustomed to the unnatural brilliancy
of light, and the sight which met their
gaze no person can depict. The walls
and ceiling of this passage Were covered
with burnished gold ami silver, the bulk
of which comprised thousands of tons.
Grant relates that the first sight of
these treasures terrified him, but, after
regaining his self-possession, he and
the Indian made a tour of exploration.
This cave is about one mile in width,
and seventy feet. high. The interior of
this immense grotto is arched similar to
an old gothic church, supported by
large alabaster-like pillars, entwined by
heavy golden ami silver wire of tie
dimensions of a man's finger, like llu*
growth of ivy, and in a style ofgrandciir
and magnificence that could never he
produced by human hands. These pil
lars seem to have been placed in posi
tion by a provident nature, to support
the heavy ceilings of the grotto in
crusted by thousands of tons of gold
and silver wire and ingots wrought, into
the most, fantastic shapes. Besides the
incalculable trea mres, this vast cave
contains chambers and domes of the
most grotesque architectural designs,
marvellous avenues and little lakes,
the latter alive with fish of every color
of the rainlsiw. a gorgeous and inde
scribable sight, indeed. This all re .vis
like an improbable tale, but Grant vows
that his statement is one of absolute
veracity, from Alpha to Otnega. One
of the most unaccountable features
about this cave is the unnatural light, at
night, which, Grant says, is not phos
phorescent (he being somewhat of a
scientist.) and the unheard of and im
penetrable darkness during the day.
Grant asserts that there arc millions
upon millions of pure gold and silver
in that vault, and he means to share
with those who have been kind to him
in bygone days. He is now en route
for Louisville. Ky., and has with him
several hundred pounds of gold taken
from the cave, to seek out some of his
old friends, whom he will bring out
here as early as possible.
Several marriages are booked for the
holidays. Sparo 1 tbs, eh !
AN HULK NO. 71.
The Temptation to Overstock.
1) H *V. Vrtk awn, r. Trilnnti.
It is often hard to resist the temptn*
jtion to overstock our farms, and yet is a
vurv irrout uiistuko to do so. It is nut.
safe to cqncluih' that liecnuso a few cows
or chickens give a certain return, dun
lib' the number would yield double the
profit. There is a limit which it is not,
safe to pH* - , ns beyond that the naiinaty
reeeive proportionately less food ntul
.cure. When overstocked,the question
(naturally is, bow far can { make tnv
feed go? The result is a stinting policy,
which never pays. In my own Mtperi
eneo, I am convinced that I kept ted
much stock. Considering the conveni
ence, and the amount of food I could
grow for them. Not that f stinted my
stock, but on the contrary purchased ev
ery winter large quantities of hnv and
grain, hut conlyt not realize any profit
I with hay nt $25 and meal at 810 |>cr
toil. Young, growing stock, especially
need an abiimlartie of nutritious food,
good water nnd dry winter quarters.
Yet those,nnd the drv cows, are most
likely to sutler when feed is scarce. It
is expensive. npsjug such stock, where.
Imv and grain bring a high price. Bet
ter butcher a poor calf than attempt to
ftdse it; but when a (irst-rate oncis pre
served no pains or expense should bo
spared to develop it into a superior ani
mal. A stuptixl cull’ will never grow to
lie a profitnblt! covvi I have upon sever
al occasions, visited the herds of noted
breeders of Jersey entile, nnd could hut
notice the difference between their vming
stock, comfortably housed, cleanly kept;
abundantly fed, nnd the stock of many
farmers, depending for both nourish
ment arid shelter upon straw stack, or
|vcrhnps an open sited for shelter nnd
over ri | o hnv for t’oodi I cannot under
stand how any innh call; with a clear
conscience, partake of warm appetizing
food, and en joy the comforts of a cheer
ful fire nnd warm bed, while his cattlft
are shivering w ith cold and trying to fill
themselves with trash only fit for the
manure heap, ill never have that sin
to answer for, lmt always till up the
mangers with early cut hay, and bed
the stock knee-deep with clean straw,
before leaving the barn st night.
A Genrgid (niiipineetiug Scene.
From Macon, Ha., a correspondent
sends a picture of a lute campinceting near
that place : “It is night, and under nn
extensive leaf arbor a Swaying mass of
Idnek forms oseilntc to every passing emo
tion, whllo torches of pino throw a yellow
glare around utld under iho canopy, and
i ast long shadow son the grohltd outside
the covering. In front of u rough stand
used as a pulpit is a small enclosure, thick
ly strevvh with leflVcs and pine (draw, and
in this otiklHiflirc tin* fArored Few lie in
trances of stout prophecies, and tell what
wonder* the Lord hartwhme for their souls.
Around this inelosuro a inuttitiuli' of mart
and women form the‘holy dance.’ In
this the men turn their faces outward and
the women townrd the centre of the circle,
nnd taking halids each steps time to thei
hymn that all are singing. Their singing
is wild nml weird, nnd yet there ts n charm
in the song of the negro, who, untaught,
sings in strict time and with full, round
tones that seem to well tip from the heart.
It is like the mournful whoop of our
4 \Vhi|)-poor-vvill,’ Your correspondent
has seen a negro woman carried from the
Indy dance in such a * trance, as they ea'l
it, thnt tier body was perfectly rigid, not
bending in the least, although one man
carried her head nifd flic other her feet nnd
she lay in this condition several hours.
While these poor tloludod creatures werd
wallowing in the straw before (he pulpit at
this campmeeting, one old woman, very
fantastically dressed, with a queer bonnet
covered with plumes of various colors,
broke from the altar in holy frenzy, nnd
ran shouting from under the shelter.
Just outside the grbor she climbed to the
top ofn tall pine stump about five feet
high, nnd there she stood, and flupped her
arm* much as a fowl Would its wings, slu?
cried out: 4 Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
(■lory to God ! Glory Glory !! ! If I just
bail two w ings and a few mote feathers on
my head I'd tty away to Glory !’ ”
To Postmasters.
AbbekWi Medium.
There Is room for reform in the way
some of our country post office* are
managed. The’bfffcos are too open
and the mails are'fidget ed by almost
every one who has the desire to do so.
Postal cards containing private messa
ges me ro:id and peddled around the
streets, the inscriptions upon letters
are examined and if envelope is thin a
word or sentence here and there is
taken out and given to the world as a
groat discovery. Now, these tilings
are all wrong. Postmasters are paid
for their services. They take an oath
to discharge their duties faithfully. If
they can not afford to work for the pay
they get let them resign, all l it is no
part of a faithful tlincltarr/e of tilth/ to
pry into a person's private affairs. The
mail bag should be sacred. It is a lit
tle kingdom in itself and suffers no in
vasion. Its guardians are, the post
masters and route agents. If they are
faithless to their trusts they should be
discharged from service and 1 heir places
filled by those who .'ire honest and hon
orable, and who will fill the offices
with some regard to their sworn and
proper duty.-
Fried Fakes,
Put a teaspoonful of baking-powder a
a pinch of stilt into your flour, the
bowl of sugar, a teaspoon of ginger.
egg: lake the same bowl and getn 0
of cream and milk off the top of,in,
sour milk, dissolve one tcaspoq
put in the milk, then mix and