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THE SUN.
■ AKTWEU., MART i'OHSiTV, 1. \
AYERS & McGILL, Editors.
FOR I*KE.SI’iE>T,
GEN. W. S. HANCOCK,
10 B PENNSYLVANIA.
FOR VICE-PRESIDENT,
HON. W. H. ENGLISH,
OF INDIANA.
I’KKSIDKMi AI. ELECTORS.
FOR THE BTATE AT LARGE :
J. C. C. BLACK, R. E. KENNON.
ALTERNATE:
LUTHER J. GLENN, A. P. ADAMS;
DISTRICT electors:
First District—Samuel D. Bradwell
of Liberty. Alternate—Josephus Camp
of Emanuel.
Second District—Wm. M. Hammond,
of Thomas. Alternate—Wm. Harrison,
of Quitman.
Third District—Christopher C. Smith,
of Telfair. Alternate—James Bishop.
Jr.j of'Dodge.
Fourth District—Lavender R. Ray,
of Coweta Alternate—Henry C. Came
ron, of Harris.
Fifth District—Jno. I. Hall, of Spald*
iDg. Alternate—Daniel P. Hill of Ful
ton.
Sixth District—Reuben It. Nisbet, of
Putnam. Al'ernale—Fleming CL Du-
B'gnon, of Baldwin.
Seventh District—Thns. W. Akin, of
Bartow. Alternate—Peter W. Alexan
der, of Cobb.
Eighth District— Seaborne Retee, of
Hancock. Alternate—James K. Hires,
of Waahingtor.
Ninth District—Wm. E Simmons, of
Gwinnetl. Alternate—Marion CL Boyd,
Ot White.
state OEHOFBATIC TK KKI .
Fi>ll fiOVIfRUOIf
or OOLQUITT.
r FOR KFiJRLTi# >• tufsn'Atrf:
C. BARNETT, of Bald tin.
FOB COMPTROLLEE-tofcSLR tl. :
WM. A. WRIGHT, of Richmond.
FOR TREASURER;
D. N. SPEER, of Troup.
for attorney general :
CLIFFORD ANDERSON, of Bibb
Hrnnor In the Family.
Good humor is rightly reckoned a most
valuable aid to happy home life. An
equally good and useful faculty is a sense
of humor or the capacity to have a little
fun along with the lium-drum of life.
We all know how it brightens things up
generally to have a lively, witty compan
ion, who sees the ridiculous points of
things, and who can turn any annoyance
into an occasion for laughter. It does a
great deal better to laugh over some do
mestic mishaps than to cry or scold over
them. Many homes and lives are dull
liecauso they are allowed to become too
deeply * impressed with a sense of the
cares amTresponsibilities of life to recog
nize its bright and especially its mirthful
side. Into such a honsehold, good, but
dull, the advent of a witty, humorous
friend is like sunshine to a cloudy day.
\Vriii.- it is oppressive to hear people
constantly striving to say funny things,
it id cftmrnrfnhTe, seeing what a bright
ener a little fun is to make, an effort to
have some. It is well to turn off an im
patient question sometimes and to regard
it from a humorous point of view, instead
of becoming irritated aliout it. “What
is the season I can qever find a clean
shirt?” exclaimed a good but rather
•smjb.rient husband, after rummaging
through the wrong drawer. His wife
looked at him steadily for a moment, half
inclined to be provoked, then with a
comical look, replied: “I never could
guess conundrums; I must give it up.”
Then he laughed, and they both laughed,
and she went and got his shirt, and he
felt ashamed of himself and he kissed
her, and then she felt happy; and sc
what might have lieen an occasion for
hard.words and unkind feelings became
just the contrary, all through the little
vein of humor that crop; aid out to the
surface. Some children have a pecnliar
faculty for giving a humorous turn to
things when they are reproved. It docs
just as well oftentimes. Laughter is
bettor than tears. Let us Lave a little
more at home.
General Grant’s Fortune.
Asa good deal of discussion has boon
rife concerning General Grant’s pecun
iary means, it may be interesting to
know the exact truth. The entire prop
erty of General and Mrs. Grant yields
them an annual income of $9,000. During
the trip around the world the expenses
of the Presidential party were at the
rate of $25,000 a year, a serious encroach
ment upon the ex-Presideut’s capital.
Luckily, however, young Grant, who
lives in New York and is a director in
several mining companies speculated so
prudently and so successfully on his
father’s behalf that a welcome addition
■was made to his income. During the
first two months of this year Grant, Jr.,
made SIO,OOO for his father, mostly l#
Chrysolite, —The Hour.
The Hartwell Sun.
By AYERS & McGILL.
VOL. V. NO. 7.
AT THE HASOCERAbb
* CamuK T. SBAW.
Tm, w will go to the ball,
Yon and I and the rest.
The wind* Beam quiet for all,
. . .The heavens are at thstr best.
Hie dap ban beau gt-ay with rstft,
And throbbing with fhsm’rlea c 'A,
That alwaya oome with their pain,
When skies are act wan and wild.
_ / . , • / /
But, now thAt the Clouds are fair, . '
“Tffe itdrtn tgstiUJs my breast;
We’U go with the maskers there,
You and land tho rout.
You nceduidt seereh for a mask— *
No one will guess It, dear, | /
So handsome and c&lA—I would nek
And defy them, to guess your faar.
Gilbert Is solemn and wise, , *
A wonderful role for him,
But sight of his happy eyes
Is milking your own grow dim.
Ah I roses of fed and white,
There’s hive and innocenea too ,
he pale ones I choOße to-night,
And leave all the red for you.
D’Anglee Is waiting the while,
I think we are dressed to go;
Sweet Jessie and Junie smile
Through masks of carmine and enow.
And now the winds are still.
And the skies are at their best,
We’ll go to the dance on the hill— .
You and I and the rest 4
masked for tho night,
Whirl in confusion around;
Smiling and jesting and light
Music and revelry’s sound.
Flowers and garlands so sweet
Scatter perfume as they puss,
And vice and innoeene# meet
Alike In tho glare of the gus.
Hearts with their burdens of care,
Souls with their burdens of sin,
Masked, with their faces so fair,
Walt for the dance to begin.
And you, with your fear-tossed soul.
And the roses over your heart,
Play out your pitiful role,
And dance till tha sad notes part
With eyes so serene and calm,
You stand where the red flowers glow,
And I hold the blossoms of balm
With petels of perfumed snow.
But a mist is before my sight,
And I turn my flower-wreathed hea 4
From glimmering blossoms white,
And flashing of rosea red.
For like to the langhing lips
That under the rouge am while,
Your heart in Its dark eclipse,
Lies under the roses light.
And the snowy petels that shed
Their fragrance over my brow
Beem cold and white like ike dead
To the hearts grown chillier now.
But Gilbert tires of the dance,
Jessie and Junie are here;
D’Angieo is ready, perchance,
The music is ending, dear.
So let us go with the word,
The masqueraders arc through,
And tho eyes of the stars are blurred
With tears of the perfumed dew.
Ah, sec how the planets Htare 1
There's Saturn all white and cold,
And Mars with his reddish glare,
And Venus of xanthic gold.
They smile with a questioning light
To throw down the roses red,
Tear off the blossoms of white,
While fragrance f.114 beajitv are dead.
SUCH IS LIFE.
Away back in memory’s halls hangs a
picture yet undimmed, though years have
come and gone since the days long ago
when I first knew the reality. An old
brick school-house, formerly a church,
with its broad doors and great arched
windows, their buff - curtains fluttering
lazily in the summer breeze, forms tho
principal feature. A back-ground of
hazy, purple-green' hills, and just to tho
right a group of grand old walnuts,
where daily we held our noon picnics,
and wove wonderful garlands to decorate
the yellowed walls of the old school
room, and in front the great gaping
ditch, which in a marvelously-short
space of .time would swallow up tho
whole school after the bell tapped for
recess; but to me the dearest feature of
all was the broad.old Mississippi in tho
distance, rolling along in majestic grand
eur, its sparkling wavelets catching the
sun’s brightest beams, and throwing
them hack into the old school-house
with redoubled brilliancy. From my
seat neat the window I think I never
tired-of watching its bright waves glim
mer and gleam through the swaying
green trees. Here, gentle reader, it was
that I first knew Ethel Raymond, a tiny,
fair-haired girl of perhaps my own age,
always clad in the same pure-white dress
with its marvelous number of tucks, and
blue silk waist, with low neck and short
sleeves sotting off her fair childish beau
ty, though sadly /out of place in the
dusty old sclioel-room, as was the gen
eral opinion from the numerous up
turned noses and suppressed titter of the
little oahoo-clad damsels whose manutrs
were not nearly so respectable as their
somewhat-faded garments. How long
it seemed till recess that first morning,
and when it came how we all bounded
off to “our grove,” as we called the wal
nuts, to surround Mat Bronson, who,
with an air of superior knowledge, had
informed us that the new-comers lived
“just down by her house,” consequently
was supposed to know all about them.
“ I s’pects they must be awful rich to
dress so fine at school,” timidly sug
gested little Kitty Edwards, as soon as
we were settled.
“ Rich, indeed ! ” sniffed Mat; “poor
as Job’s turkey; live in an old shanty
just down below our house; ain’t got
anything in but two or three old chairs,
a table and a stove; awful stuck up,
too. My ma went over there, the other
day, just to see what kind of people
they were, and, my land! Mrs. Ray
mond was so high and mighty she hard
ly asked her to sit down. She said un
der the circumstances she couldn’t he
very sociable, which means she’s too
poor; ain’t going to send her boy to
school, with her present arrangements
she can’t, which means he ain’t got any
thing to wear, yon know. Pity he can’t
wear the family white, with about half
the tucks ripped out; it would be just
long enough for him; with all, you know,
it makes quite a stylish Sunday dress
for their mother.”
“Well, I’d be ashamed, Mat Bronson
to tell such stuff as that,” interrupted
one of the girls.
“Well, you know I’m never ashamed
HARTWELL, GA., OCTOBER 13. 1880.
to toll tho truth, and this in a solemn
fact; films got cue of those sowing ma
chines. You just null tho thread and
away goes the tucks ; it’s got a draw
string iu tho waist, and wlum it’s washed
and done up who knows tho difference?
Now, my dear schoolmates, don’t look
so horror-struck ; I toll you all this as a
secret, wouldn’t toll everybody for any
thing; as there are only al>ot\t forty of
yon, of’course-it will never get out,” and,
giving her curls a wicked toss, Mat
bounded away.
Mat Bronson was the acknowledged
leader, and I fear the new scholar would
have been sadly neglected but for the
over-thouglitfnl kindness of our teacher,
♦•ho seemed never to weary iu hia
.efforts entertain and amuse her during
tho’ long recess time. I can see them
yet, his dark boyish beauty contrasting
with hors so fair and childlike. Ernest
Emerson, our teacher, had oome to us
from a neighboring academy, and, though
scarcely more than a boy, hail won his
way both among parents and pupils. A
model of perfection and beauty ho
seemed to us children. The jetty curls
lying in damp rings about his wliite
brow, tho great lustrous black eyes and
faintly-tinted cheeks made up for
only drawback, a lameness, which al
ways made it necessary for him to walk
with a cane; but we soon grew to lqpk
upon the little rosewood cane as a part
of our teacher, and probably would never
have associated it with pain and suffer
ing had he not one day told us of a boy*
whose reckless propensity for fun and
daring exploits had made' him a cripple
at the age of 14, aud a disappointed man
for life. This told in a sad, agitated
tone of voice convinced us that tho wild,
reckless boy was no other than our
gentle teacher. From that hour wo were
not only his admiring, but his warm,
sympathetic friends, .nd when he took
little lonely Ethel under his especial
care wo felt a silent rebuke from one
whose good opinion wo all coveted, and
m a short tune all hearts were opened to
the little stranger, and when tho teacher
placed her in tlie seat beside mo we grew
mseparable, and those long, bright sum
mer days seldom found us apart.
Ethel’s mother, a delicate, fragile lit
tle woman, seldom went out. Missing
Ethel from school several weeks after
the commencement of the fall term, I
begged permission to go and see what
was the matter. This I readily ob
tained ; and, as it was tho day before
Thanksgiving, also permission to invite
my little friend to spend the morrow
* *isl.i i.. .r >.. ,+i iMi
may have writhed and crackled under
my flying feet, but yon may be assured
none grew as I sped to Ethel. How
the bright eyes shone when I told her I
though speedily followed by a shade of
disappointment as she said :
“ Oh! if I only could, but I can’t.
Mamma is siek and, anyhow, I haven’t
anything to wear.”
“ Oli, we’ll soon fix that. You know
that red polka dot of mine? I just hate
it, because I can’t breatho but what a
hook Hies off, and I believe it will just
fit you, because you ain’t as fat as I am,
and I know mamma is tired of sewing
on hooks, and will he ever so glad for
me to give it away, so you’re all right
there.”
“Oh, hut mamma, you know; she’s
real sick ! She just coughs all night,
and is so hot. Sometimes I wake up
and hear her moan. Then I almost
scream, I’m so ’fraid she’s going to die 1"
and the great eyes dilated with horror.
“ Oh, Ethel; you always get scared so
easy. Everybody gets sick sometimes,
you know. You come to-morrow, and
when everybody’s gone I’ll get my
mamma to come over and Bee her and
bring her something nice—a Thanks
giving dinner, you know. Won’t that
lie nice? Now run and ask her ; I must
go. Remember, the dress ’ll come to
night.”
The next morning, among the first
arrivals, was my little friend. How
proud and happy I felt when I saw how
universally petted and admired she was
by the other guests ! That was a bright
day to us, nut when my mother re
turned, after accompanying Ethel home,
she threw a shadow into our hearts by
the sad information that Mrs. Raymond s
was a hopeless case of consumption, and
the probability was that Ethel and her
brother would be motherless before the
spring.
“Poor, poor children,” she went on ;
“ that Harry of hers is a noble boy ; as
kind and gentle a nurse us a woman.
They are a very refined family, though
so oppressed by poverty. Poor Mrs.
Raymond !—hers is a sad story. Bhc
told me to-night a good deal of her past
history. It seems she was very young
when married, as was her husband. He
had a nico little sum of money to put
into business, but all his business quaiiii
catious at that time consisted of a di
ploma from a leading business college.
Just then he received what he consid
ered a very brilliant offer, hi the shape
of a partnership with an old, experienced
business man, who had more business
reputation than either money or honesty,
as it afterward proved. To this arrange
ment an older 1/rother of Mr. Ray
mond, who was very wealthy, and their
only Living relative, was violently op
posed ; did everything iu his power hi
prevent what, he insisted, must prove
only a disastrous experiment, but all
without avail; the offer seemed so very
flattering, considering Mr. Raymond’s
limited practical experience, that it was
accepted without hesitation. Bo the
new firm started, and everything was
highly satisfactory for a time. Peace
and plenty smiled upon their home, and
when little Harry and Ethel carne they
thought their bless complete. But the
cloud burst unexpectedly. One morn
ing they wakened to find the new firm
Devoted to EUrt County.
h< iltli, she was forced to seek change of
e- unite, but too late ; as the winter days
.vjpo ou she grew worse, and ono bright
Ruling in the early spring there llut
t, ~hl from the door in tlio soft, balmy
ly zo the heavy black era pc, which
* the sad news that death had entered
tL littlo cottage and loft Harry and
IDtyel motherless, but not without, a
frAnd; someone, whom wo afterward
lc' mod was no other than Eugene Em
er-ion, over on hand with some kind, doli
ivio attention for the invalid, had writ
i to the brother, and at the funeral
ti t little mourners were led by a tall,
stolely-looking gentleman who, it was
whispered, was tlieir rich undo, come to
taiie them away, whioh proved true.
Ti o noxt morning, our childish hearts
almost bursting with grief, Ethel and I
sad our good-bys over and over again
e T ‘t the groat lumbering old stago coach
ca Tied her away to bo tho daughter of
lug rich undo, who expressed his inten
tion of adopting both the children, ho
b Itag oliildless and entirely alone in the
w: rid.
.Years glided by and an occasional lot
to'- from Ethel descriptive of tho new
li), speaking at first kindly, and thou.
uA. ..tionately. of the uncle, whom she*
HwrtTi inrtrrrrti *t iu n■ m ani ■ ,
us, through unselfish kindness and affec
tion, was endeavoring to make amends
to tho children for neglect of the par
ents.
Bince that bright spring day when I
bade Ethel good-by had rolled twelve
years, when one morning a letter from
Ethel wus placed in my hand—still
Ethel Raymond, but instead of the
lovely child of poverty a brilliant, beau
tiful and accomplished woman, an licir
css and the pet of society. Just having
returned from rmrope, she hud written
to me to come to her. It was an affec
tionate, merry letter, descriptive of the
gayeties of society life, containing a full
account- of the last conquest, etc., and
finally ending up with on imperative de
mand for my presence at her homo
Thanksgiving, saving her uncle had
given her full liberty to invite what
guests she chose for that day, “which will
be yourself, uncle, brother Harry and
myself. You see I want only those
whom I love for my first Thanks
giving at home after so long an absence
—kind of a family reunion, you know.
And now, dearest.” she added, “ unless
you wish to entail a lifelong misery up
on your old friend you must bo sure to
come. ”
I Landed the letter over to mamma
with a smile, who, after reading it
through, quietly remarked, “Well, my
dear, I think yon can go.”
“Oh, mamma !” I cried, “go ! when
I haven’t a thing fit to wear.” For the
same years that hail brought wealth and
luxury to Ethel liapinoud had brought
poverty to me.
“ My dear, I think you speak rather
swcepingly, do you not? It seems to
me that you have a very nice black
cashmere which will do very well for
street and church wear. I know, of course.
ttiat your wardrobe is not what a young
lady would wish on entering fash
ionable society, but, my dear, it is all
you have; anil, you know, a Jody will
pj>ear a lady under all circumstances.
Go, child, and enjoy all you can.
You remember Ethel once spent a
Thanksgiving with you under similar
circumstances, only you were children
then;” and I presume she has not forgot
ten it, and a week or two later found me
domiciled with my friend. Oh. the hap-
py days lived over again within the
sacred precincts of our own room! It
was hero, the morning of that memor
able Thanksgiving, that we had both
suddenly subsided into silence after one
of our extended conversations, Ethel,
seated ujsm a low ottoman, just opposite
my favorite perch on tire side of the bed,
was busily engaged in undoing the long,
heavy braids of her hair, which, when
loosened, fell in great golden waves about
her shoulders. Suddenly turning, she
merrily cried : “ Why those piercing
; orbs of midnight darkness fixed upon,
tliis innocent countenance, as if to pierce
the very depth of my inmost houl'V”
‘ ‘ Don’t be tragic, dear, I was oil!ly oeeu
■ pied with my own thoughts,” f inter
rupted.
“ A penny for your thoughts, then.”
“ Well, my dear, I was just wonder
ing how soon that ardent admirer of
1 yours, Gol. Blackwell, of the million and
mustache, is to claim that little, white
bankrupt, themselves penniless, tho
partner having sailed for Europe the
ni fit before, taking with him all surplus
finkis.
\* What to do the young husband aud
wr> knew not, but, alter numberless
u.-.ffiocesstiH attempts to find employ
nupt, Mr. Raymond divided to appeal
to 2in older brother, aud received in re
pl’, a few words, stating* that, as he had
oriftod advice befoto only to l>e rejected,
helcertainly would not liaYo tho im
pertinence to offer more, but would Bim
ply say, as be had furnished tho capital
n’i' his partner the experience, it was to
L(jjA)resumed the result was satisfactory
to forth, us he could now boast of the ex-
T'enmice while liis partner wan doubt
-I<% on'prying tfir nhd in Conse
rpv rbe of that experience was far more
competent to take care of himself than
soik-ral years ago. Hence interference
onffiis part was entirely unnecessary.
m iiist after this young Raymond received
"Cjrwffor to go to Europq on rather a muu
g’vsalarv, Hoping to tind his miscreant
partner he noerpted, but in a few days
P’,r sailing the vessel was wrecked and
U young mother with her two little
pu’s was thrown on her own resources.
utritpgled on, and with a few music
scWolars succeeded in keeping want from
h<JJ door tilL on account of failing
$1.60 Per Annum
WHOLE NO. 215.
hand; the symptoms arc quite alarming j
aud it is time the ertse was rcporteil.”
“ Marry Col. Black well, Is that what
yon mean? That will never Ik*. No,
never ! she added, with a little shiver. 1
presume you lißvedlsoovcred the Colonel’s
standing with my uncle, Who huabeoii
anxious for years for an ulliancc lx
tween the two families. The Black
wells, you know, are a very aristocratic
and wealthy family. The Colonel is
handsome, Intelligent, good, everything
in fact that the world would unanimously
vote ugood match; but, my dear, she
added, with something of a bitter smile,
I am so foolish as to think that there is
another requisite to happiness which tho
world usually loaves out of consideration,
and that is love, and as 1 possess none
of that (to my happiness, necessary)
commodity my uncle’s ambition must,
be sacrificed and my expectant friends
disappointed.”
“Well, Ethel, pray inform us what
kind of a man is to succeed, wheu the
elegant, accomplished and fascinating
Colonel fails.”
“WeH, lam sure I don’t know. I
sometimes think that necessary little or
gan called tho heart was left entirely out
of my composition, aud, consequently,
doubt a capability of any unusual
amount of affection ; and, under the cir
cumstances, it were better for Ethel
Raymond to tread life’s pathway alone
than to be an unloving wife, a handsome
husband and elegant establishment to
tho contrary. Do you know I some
times thiult,” she added, musingly,
“had tho gentle voice and tender suiile
of Eugene Emerson, our boy teacher,
lieon known to me in mnturer years,
things might have ”
“ Ah, indeed 1” I interrupted, with a
merry laugh. “So, after all.it is not
the lack of affection that is so disastrous
to our friend, the Colonel. Only in the
wrong direction ; that’s all. Como, now,
confess. Confession, you know, is good
for the soul.”
" No, no; you are too fast. I win
only a little child in thoso days, you will
remember.”
“Well, then I am to understand tho
only serious effect then was to destroy
any germ of affection which might spring
up in after years. ”
“ Well, perluq*; I believe you al
ways did jxissess tho faculty of tracing
things down to a fine point,
“ Where is he ?’’ I inquired. “Do you
know anything of him ?”
“ I have heard nothing for a long
time. He need to write to mo occasion
ally in my childhood days, and once
whon hi the city lia/l the amloeity to
1- ‘ij j)’’mv ancle e\ teres. vrhiah
FactTwftß HOT TTUorTnca F)T
after. Then my uncle told me that he
thought it best that our acquaintance
should end, and, 1 presume, gave him to
understand the same, as I have never
received any letters since. He is now
editing a country newspaper somewhere
in tlie West, I believe, anil I occasion
ally find articles from his pen in our
leading scientific journals, which even
uncle is forced to admit are very fine.
But come, my dear ; if we go to church
this morning we must hasten our pre
parations. ”
In a few moments T was ready, wait
ing for Ethel, who, in her navy blue
silk, velvet cloak, ermines, and jaunty
hat with its long, waving white plume,
was indeed a fair picture to look upon,
as she caught up tlie long train of her
elegant dress, preparatory to starting.
Little wo thought of the disaster that
was to befall that same train ere our
return.
When service was over we started
home in a great hurry-, as it was very
late. I had just landed safely on the
other side of the crowded street when,
hearing a terrific whoa from the ear
driver, I turned just in time to see Ethel
caught from under tlie very horses’ feet.
She had hurriedly crossed the track just
in front of the ear when hereto m caught
and jerked her back, and in nether
moment she would have been trampled
under the horses had not a strong arm
caught her while tho car passed on, hik
ing almost the whole of the soft, shim
mering train with it. And, as soon as
Ethel was released, I was surprised to
see her turn and joyfully extend both
hands to tho stranger who had so gal
lantly rescued her. Retaining one of
the li anils, he placed it in his ..rin, and
in a moment they were beside mo. A
glance at her escort assured me that ho
was no other than the subject of onr
morning discussion. Of course we took
possession of our old friend, and, calling
a carriage, were soon uatoly deposited at
home. It was, indeed, a luippy little
party that gathered around the dinner
table that day. Even Ethel’s haughtv
uncle was very gracious and grateful,
and gave our friend a warm welcome.
All, a merry party we were that evening
—Ethel, Eugene, Harry and I—as we
sat in the warm glow of tlie bright grate
fire, whose flickering tight we would not
suffer dimmed by lighted gas ; liow wo
laughed, chattered, and finally drifted
back to the days of yore. A regular ex
perience meeting we had, each relating
liis or her own varied fortune. But
another story I read in tho eyes of our
friend Eugene aa I slipped away, soon
followed by Harry, who found Ins pres
ence sadly ignored.
That old, old story, which I afterward
learned he bail come from his far West
ern home to toll to the blue-eyed Ethel,
whose image his heart had ever held ;
and a few weeks later I stood beside my
friend that snow-clad Christmas morn
ing iu tho softly-lighted parlor, fragrant
with the breath of the lovely white blos
soms peeping out from every niche, and
nestled down among the holly and ever
green, silent witnesses of that short, im
pressive ceremony which gave Eugene
and Ethel track *to each other after the
| many days when each had thought the
other lost.— ChuMSJO Jsxlyer.
Ollendorff In LeadTfllf.
In view of the spreading popularity of
the mining lx mm, and the extreme prula.
ability that there will, in courßO of time,
lv anew generation of Leadvilliana to
be brought up iu a way they should go.
Punk has drawn up the ground plan of
a revised Ollendorff’s grammar, wherein
tho beautiful forms of sixxvh familiar to
our own too highly civilized infancy shall
bo so altered as to harmonize with tho
prevailing tone of Occidental society.
Wo give u sample page which may be of
interest In tho great cause of popular
education.
LESSON L
Has the Good Speculator the Mining
Claim?
Yes, the Good Speculator has the Min
ing Claim.
Has tlie Good Speculator the Mining
Claim of the Widow ami the Orphan?
Yes, you bet your Life tho Good Spec
nlator has the Miuing Claim of tho
Widow aud Orphan.
Yon bet your Life?
I Ixit my sweet Life.
lie lasts his sweet Life solid.
Who lias my Lode?
1 have not your Lode, but the rich
Wife of the laws Bankrupt has your
Lixle.
Do yon know Where the Wife of the
bos* Bankrupt is?
No, I do not know Where tho rich Wife
of tho boss bankrupt is; Nor Nobody do
not know Where the rich Wife of tho
boss Bankrupt is.
Can I last on That?
You can bet on That.
What can I bet on That?
You can bet your old Hat on That.
Can 1 bet my new Hat on That?
No, you cannot bet your now Hat on
That; for you have no new Hat to bet on
Nothing.
You Lie.
Do I Lie?
Yes, you Lie.
Does tho Man with the rod Flannol
Shirt Lie?
No, hut tho Man at the End of this
Barrel Lies.
Is lie Dcail?
Yes, ho is dead.
(>f what is he dead?
Ho is Dead of too much Proviousnoss.
Have you seen the Coroner?
No, I have not seen tho Coroner; but
tlio Uncle of my deceased Friend is Dust
ing around witli a Derringer.
Is the Uncle of your Deceased Friend
a Good Shot?
Yes, the Uncle of my deceased Friend
is a (looil Shot.
Shall 1 Dust?
Yes, von shall Dust.
Shall"! Dust. I’. 1). Q?
Yes, you shall Dust P. D. Q. —Park
on Wheels.
What Is Nlckc! I *
Since the convenient five cent coin
which hi common talk is called “a
nickel," has come into general circula
tion, tho question above is asked, either
mentally or orally, hundreds of times
every day, and lmt few get an intelligent
answer. In China and India, a white
copper, called paek-tong, has long been
known and lias been extensively used
both there and in Europe for counterfeit
ing silver coin. About the year 1700 a
peculiar ore was discovered in the copper
■ <nl, Kssouy whichJiud/ tie- itpoenr
it yielded no copper, and trio rnim-in
called it kiipfer -nickel, or false copper.
In 1754, Cronstadt announced the dis
covery of anew metal in kupfer-nickel,
to whioh ho gave tho name of nickel. It
was in combination with arsenic from
which ho could relieve it only in part,
Tho alloy of nickel and arsonio which ho
obtained wus white, brittlo, very hard
and had a melting point nearly as high
as cast-iron. It was not until 1823 that.
] iuro nickel was obtained by analysis of
German silver which hail lor a number
ofyears, boon produced at Buhl in Saxony.
Its composition was ascertained to be
copper 10 parts, zinc 5, and nickel 4. If
more nickel bo used tho alloy is as white
as silver and susceptible of a very high
polish, hut becomes too brittle and hard
to bo hammered or rolled, and can be
worked only by casting Pure nickel is
a white metai with a tarnish readily in
tho air. Unlike silver, it is not acted on
by the vapor of sulphur, and even the
strong mineral acids attract it but
slightly. Nickel has the liurdness of
iron and like it, lias strong magnetic
pr pi rties, but cannot lie woldod and is
soldered with difficulty. Pure nickel
has heretofore been used chiefly for
plating, for which purpose its hardness
aud power to resist atmospheric influ
ences, admirably adapt it. Within tho
last year, tho French nave succeeded in
rolling the metal into plates from which
spoons and other table furniture may be
pressed. Nickel bronze, which consists
of equal parts of copper and nickel, with
a little tin, may be cast into very delicate
foruiH, and is susceptible of a high polish.
Mines of nickel are worked at Chatham,
Conn., and Lancaster, Pa., aud it is said
to be found at Mine Le Motto, Mo., and
a-t several points in Colorado, and New
Mexioo, where but little uttoution is paid
to it. It is extensively mined in Baxony
and in Bwedcn, but the late discovery
of anew ore fa silicate of nickel) in New
Caledonia will probably supersede all the
other ones. The inexhaustible supply
of this ore, the ease with which it can
lie smelted and the richness of the ore
will probably suspend the use of the
arsenical ores, and yet bring nickel into
common use. Switzerland, In the year
1852, made a coin ot German silver,
wliioh is identical in composition with
our nickel ooin. The United States
made nickel cents in 1856, and eight
years later, coined the five cent pieces.
Relgium adopted nickel coinage in 1860
and Germany in 1873, England has
lately coined nickel pennies for Jamaica,
but at home she and France adhere to
the clumsy copper small change.
“ Fabf. well, mv own!” snng me man
who took his sweetheart into a fashion
able restaurant, handed her the bill of
fare, and then slipped out the back way
and left her to settle the bill.
The Boston Comiitnrirnl IMM ; n says
there is one field of labor that women
can never enter—collecting bills; lor
“ women’s work is never dun.”
Onk of the occupations of yonng men
who are filling up Western Texas is to
breed geese. One of these has 15,000
geese, whose feathers are plucked every
two months. Each bird will average -a
pound and a half a year worth 50 cents a
pound.