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THE MERCURY. Entered kb second-class mutter at the Sen- deraville Postoffloe, April 27, 1880. BendemlUe, Washington Couty, 0*. ruBUsnsD bt JERNIGAN & SCARBOROUGH. Bubeeriptkm. •fl.OO per Tear. THE MERCURY. A. J. JERNIGAN, Pboprietor DEVOTED TO LITERATURE, AGRICULTURE AND GENERAL INTELLIGENCE. •1.50 PER ANNUlfc, VOL. I. SANDEESVILLE. GA., OCTOBEE 19, 1880. NO. 2 THE MERCURY. PUBLISHED EVERY TUESDAY. SI NOTICE. XU communications intended lor tUa paper must be nocompanltd with the lulS name oi the writer, not necessarily ior publi cation, but as a guarantee of good laith. We are in no way responsible lor the views tr opinion* of correspondents. G. W. H. WHITAKER. DENTIST, Sandersyille, Ga. Terms Cash. Offloo at bis residence on Harris Street. April 3, 1880. B. D. EVANS, Attorney atLaw, April 3, 1880. Sandersyille, Ga. DR. WM. RAWLINGS, Physician & Surgeon, Sandersyille, Ga. Office at Sandorsyille Hotel. April 10, 1880. E. A. SULLIVAN, NOTARY PUBLIC. Sandersyille, Ge. Special attention given to collection o! otaims. Offloo in the Court-House. 0. H. ROGERS, Attorney at Law, Sendorsville, Ga. Prompt attention given to all business. Office in northwest loom ot Court-House. May *, 1880. C. C. BROWN, Attorney at Law, Sandersyille, Qe. Will prectioe in the State and United State* Courts. Office in Court-House. H. N. H0LLIFIELD, Physician & Surgeon, Sandersyille, Ga. Offloe next door to Mrs. Bayne’s millinsry store on Han is Street. DR. J. B. ROBERTS, Physician & Surgeon, Sandersyille, Ga. May be consulted at hie offloe on Haynes street, in the Masonio Lodge building, irom 9 Into 1 P a. and Irom 8 to 6 p m; daring other hours at his residence, on Ghuroh street, when not professionally engaged. April 3 1880. Michael’s Mallet, Long, long ego in the olden day, On a elope ot the Tuscan hills there lay A village with quarries all around And blocks ol marble that piled the ground; And scattered among them, everywhere, With wedge and hammer, rule and square, With the duat ol the marble powdered white Sat masons who ohtseled Irom morn till night The earliost sound that the baby hoard Was neither the whistle nor song ot bird, Nor bleating ot lambs, nor rush of breeze Through tho tops of the tall old chestnut trees, Nor the laughing oi girls, nor the whoop and shout Ol the sohool at the oonvent fust let out, Nor the tinkle ol water plashing Hreet From tho dolphin’s mouth in the village street. But foremost and flrst, that sharp and dear Arrested tho little Miohael's ear When he waked irom sleep, we* the mallet’s knook On the chisel that ohipped the rough hewn blook; From the dawn ol the day till the.twilight came, Thediok ot the tools was still the same; And, oonstant as loll the fountain’s drip, Was the tap, tap, tap ! and the chip, ohip, chip t And when he could orawl beyond the door Ol the cottage, ia search of a plaything more, Or (arther oould venture, a prying lad, What toys do yon think wero the first he had ? Why, splinters of marble white and pare, And a mallet to break them with, bo sure ; And a chisel to shape thorn, should ho chooso, Just such as ho saw the masons use. So Miohrel, the baby, had his way, And hammered and ohipped, and would not play With the simple and senseless sort of toys That pleased the rest ot the villago boys. They laughed at the little churohes he Would dally build at his nurse's km e; They seouted the pictures that he drew On tho smooth, white slabs with a ooal or two; They taunted and teased him when he tried To mold irom the rubbish cast aside Kudo figures, and screamed “ soul tori 1" when His bits ot marble he shaped like men. But who ol thorn droamed his mallet's sound Would over bo heard the earth around ! Or his mimio ohurohos in time beoomo The mlghtost temple ot Christendom T Or the pictures he painted fill the dome Ot the Sistine—gramlost ot sights in Rome? Or tho villnge baby that ohiseled so Be tho marvelous Michael Angelo ! — H'iat Awakt. Watches, Clocks AND JEWELRY JERNIGAN. POSTOPFICE HOURS. 7:00 to 11:30 a. m, 1:30 to 6:00 p. m. E. A. Sullivan, P. M. Subscribe for the MERCURY, Only (1.60 per annum. PUBLISHED BT JERNIGAN & SCARBOROUGH. BUY YOUR Spectacles, Spectacles, FROM JERNIGAN. K9“None genuine without our Trade Mark. On hand and for sale, 8DBCtaClBS,lS6GlaSS6S,EtC. Music, Music. JERNIGAN FOB VIOLINS, ACCORDEONS, BOWS, STRINGS, ROSIN BOXES, ETC. Machine Needles, OIL and SHUTTLES For nil kinds of Machines, for sale. I will also order parts ot Machines that get broke, and now pieces are wanted. A. J. JERNIGAN. Veils of lace and grenadine have large dots of chenille of the shade of the veil, or are dotted with gold, silver, black, white or red. MARJORIE’S CHOICE. " You surely oro not in earnest Mar jorleP” Why notP” asked that young lady, standing on tlp-too to reach a bunch of apple-blossoms just above her head; • is it anything unreasonable in me to prefer being Miss Melrose, tho talented voung authoress of New York, instead of a country minister’s wife and help mate P” “But, Marjorie, do you think I ex pect or desire you to bury your heaven born talentP God forbid! Come to me, and, surrounded by tho friends who have known nnd loved you from child hood, and, under the shadow of your favorite apple-blossoms that you said were your first inspiration, write as much as you please.” “No, Willard; what you ask is im possible, for I am not the least bit in love with you. Besides,” she continued, hurriedly, and not seeming to see the look of pain in her companion’s eyes “ I could never be happy in the life you describe. I would bo miserable in chains, even though they were tho flowery chains of love that bound me to my jailer, and my repinings and rebel lion would soon make us both unhappy I must have excitement and active work. I must be in the thickest of the battle ot life. I long for power, in fluence and fame; but, even if I cannot ‘ Bo a hero in the strife,’ I must be on the scene of battle, and do all I can. shall write no more poetry, though the eulogiums of the public on my little book were more than I ever dared hope for Henceforth I intend to live upon reason, and not even waste sentiment on verse. But with politics, philosophy, or some other literary weapon, I will con quer tho fickle goddess fame, steal a few laurel leaves for my brow and a key to her temple.” “And do vou expect to be happy? Ah! Marjorie, there is a mighty factor you have omitted in your calculations. Your brain will be busy, your intellect expanding; but, even if fame should shake the choicest bonbons from her store at your feet, your heart will be starving, and you will be miserable.’ “Pshaw 1” said Marjorie, recklessly; “ let but the gods endow me with the gifts I crave, and Cupid may keep his paltry arrows in peaco. My heart has been too highly educated to sigh for so childish an article. For this much talked of love is merely a deceased imagination, common to youth, like measles® and whooping-cough, and which we got over in time, just as, we do our fancy for dolls and tops, and our elief in ghosts and fairies." “You are doubtless sincere in your belief now, Marjorie,” said her compan ion. a little impatiently, “ but the time will come when, even in the zenith of your success, you will be willing to bar- Both large and small flower patterns appear in new brocades and damasses, but cashmere designs are more in vogue than any others. it all lor a heart that is tender and “ I will wait for you .alwavs, my dar ling !" said Willard, solemnly. " It is unkind in you to say all this,’’ said the girl, with sudden resentment, “just when I had boasted in my diary that we were a living illustration of dear old Plato’s theory; but you always were thoughtless.” “You are coming to see grandma?" she added, presently, as the supper-bell sent a oheery invitation through tho orchard; “ she will never forgive you if you slight her,” and, seeing that her companion hesitated, “if you do not come I shall think you are offended and angry with me." “Would you care, Marjorie, dearP" Willard asked, eagerly. “Of oourse it would make me very unhappy to think that we, who have been friends from our cradles, should, on the eve of my departure, be estranged about such a trifle as love; something that you will forget before this fruit blushes ’neath August's kisses; and, be fore apple-blo'soms come again, there will be a preity, blue-eyed wife at the parsonage—Annie Leigh, perhaps—who will fill the position sol much more worth! y and gracefully than I.” “Stop, Marjorie, interrupted Willard almost sternly, “ Heaven knows I have borne a great deal from you, but I can not endure this unkind jesting whon you well know that ‘as long as life hath shadows, as long as the heart hath woes, I shall love you, only you.” Of course, that is the proper speech to make just now, Will dear, but I pre dict you will consolefyourself very soon witu Annie Leigh. As old Mrs. An drews would say, I feel it in my bones.” Marjorie gained her wish, A few months aftor her arrival at her uncle’s Fifth avenue home, she had, like Byron, waked to find herself famous on the pub- lication of her first proso work. Two others followed in quick succession. But just when my heroine felt she had almost climbed the height of literary re nown, when the praises of an admiring public wero wafted to her like Incense, with only now and tuen a criticism, wliioh she insisted only spiced the other wise Insipid ovation, that eocentrio young lady suddi nly declared her inten tiou of devoting her time to American politics. So thorough was her study of tho subject that she now (six years after you first met her) vlrtunll / stood at the head of her unclo’s widely-circulated and influential daily. She had indeed climbed to a dizzy height where few women ever ventured. Her editorials were copied everywhere, her opinions quoted from “Dan to Beersheba,"but was she happy P some one asks. Was the mountain as purple and beautiful as when sho gazed longingly at it from the sweet valley of youthP or did she And it but common earth after all, and the mysterious beauty lay in the misty val Icy of girlhood she had left behind? Marjorie diopped her pen with a short, impatient sigh. “It is strnngc that little Nell’s words should haunt me so to night, ringing in my ears, and waking echoes of that still, small voioo I had hoped was forever stilled. What does that child of eight een know of the the heart, that she should assert so con fidently, ‘Ambition, even gratified am bition can never satisfy the inner sane- tuary of your soul; you will never be happy till you lovo.’ Are tho words of a child to undermine the foundations ol my theories of life, love and happiness that six years ago I boasted wero built on the solid rock of reason instead of on the shifting sands of human uffectionP And yet—have they brought peace to me after allP I would freely give power, fame and ambition for the look in Nell’s blue eyes as she talked of her husband. Ah! child, with only your trusting heart to guide you, you have found and gath ered the little wayside flower, happiness, which in my selfishness and pride I have missed. Across ttie chasm of years, comes a faint yet never-dying echo of the same words. “Willard, you at least truly loved me, and would have saved mo Irom my self, and I would not, and now it is for ever too late, lor the fire in my heart has burned so low that there-is now left only a faint, tender strain of regret, and the white ashes of memory. I have in deed passed the Rubicon of youtii and hope, and for mo thore is no redemp tion.” Little joe Harris, Marjorie’s special errand bov and devoted slave, after ar ranging to his satisfaction the furniture and papers in her private sanctum in her uncle’s large establishment, had placed a tiny bunch of apple-blossoms on his idol’s desk, and now stood half bashfully watching Marjorio, as she came in, pale and weary-looking from last night’s vigil, and sat down to write. Seeing the flowers, she drew them to ward her with a look of pleased sur prise, but, as she inhaled their fragrance, gradually there stole over her face a shadow, marring its brightness, as a cloud crosses the face of the sun. The breath of the flowers was laden with old associations and memories of her happy home at Appledalc farm, of her grandmother, who had long since crossed that mystic river whose tide never ebbs toward the shores of time, and wafted on their sweet breath"came her talk with Willard Lester in the sun-lit orchard on thnt afternoon so long ago. Then afull! knowledge of her mistake swept over her, and, laying her cheek against the pink petals, she burst into a passion of tears. Poor Joe, ut terly amazed at such a reception of so paltry a gift, started to her, then stole softly from the room, and stood guard outside to prevent intruders. Like the smitten rock at Horcb, the tears burst when the flowers whispered to her of Willard’s solemn “1 will wait for you always,” the white blossoms of hope sprung into bloom. “It was all wrong,” she whispered, in return; “I wandered into the wrong pathway, and my palace oar of ambition has only brought me to tho gates of dis content, but I will go home and begin over again, trusting to heaven and my awakened heart this time.” It was hard to tear herself away from her business engagements and duties, harder still to persuade her uncle that he could certainly spare her a while, and that she really needed a* rest; but her indomitable energy enabled her to ac complish them all, and one week later found her sitting on the old, familiar porch razing at the lovely soene before her and listening to a perfect tirade of gossip from hor mother’s only sister, who now lived at the farm. Marjorie was longing to ask for one old friend in particular, yet something in her heart choked back his name, and she sat won dering at her own reticence, and why Aunt Lizzie did not speak of the min ister, when two figures came through the little wicket gate and up to the porch, where she now rose to welcome her guests. Miss Melrose,” said Willard Lester —for one them of was,Indeed,ho—“ I am most happy to welcome you lonco moro to D., where, I assure you, you have always been missed;” then, turning to his companion, ho continued, “I hope you will need no introduction to my wife, whom'you onoo knew as Annlo Leigh." For one moment the earth seemed slipping from under Marjorie's feet, and tho fair landscape looked black before her stnrtlcd eyes; but, before Mr. Les' ter’s voice died away, the woman of the world greeted his wife in her calm, clear voice and most winning smile. Murjoric stayed two weeks at Apple dalo farm, and tLen in spite of their re monstrances went back to her old life and work. To her aunt's pleadings nnd Willard’s arguments, who pointed out to her the good she could accomplish in tho village with her wealth, energy and culture, she made only one reply. “ Busy myself as I will, the range of action seems monotonous and confined. I began too soon to draw around me the large circle of literature and notion, and the small sphere opon to mo in D. seems a sail going back in life. No, the wan derer’s ban is again upon me, and 1 must turn again to the., land of excite ment.” Her city friends saw no change in their queen, when she was again among them, except, perhaps, tho lines about her mouth were a triflo deepor, and the shadow in her wonderful eyes a shade denser and more impenetrable than be fore. “But," they argued, “of course Marjorie had been inexpressibly bored by that duty visit to her aunt; sho would be her old self after the anticipated trip to Europe during the summer.” As for her, burying tho dead blossoms of hope from hor sight and heart, sho turned resolutely to her work again. Was her fate an exceptionally hard one, after allP “Ah, well! for us all, some swcot hope lies deeply buried from human eyes.” Trades Unions In England. Workingmen’s societies in England grow to enormous proportions, possibly because, in addition to their trades union features, they take the place of tho mutual aid and benetic'al associations eo common in this country. Four of the great English societies—the engineers, iron founders, boiler makers, and steam engine makers—have nearly eight thou sand members, with incomes amount ing to over one million dollars a year. They paid out in 1879 more than twice as much, chiefly for the benefit of mem bers who were sick or out of work. A million dollars were spent on the unem ployed, mostly in form of done.tions, but a large amount for traveling ex penses. A quarter of a million was awarded to men on strike, but this was only one-eighth of tho whole amount distributed, the societies not one im ag ing struggles with employers, except in rare cases. The administration oi the affairs of these and co-operative socie ties in England is remarkable for econ omy nnd honesty, vast corporations being managed for workingmen for years with quite as much success as at tends the business ventures of merchants and bankers supposed 10 be specially qualified for such undertakings. FOR THE FAIR SEX. The lew of Marrtaxee In France. As there are many Americnn girls who meditate or commit matrimony with Frenchmen, it is well to have the French law on marriages with foreigners stated. The case stands thus: If an American woman marries a Frenchman in this country in accord ance with American law, and ho be un der the age of twenty-five, but of mar riageable age according to our code, the union may bo declared invalid in France, unless tho bridegroom has ob tained the permission of his parents to marry. As it would not enter the mind of an Atnerioan girl to imagine that a young man of four-and-twenty required the sanction of his parents ere he could be legally married, one need hardly say inquiry on this point is seldom made. The marriage is celebrated nnd ohildren are born. The family may after a time find it convenient to go to Franco, nnd then the unhappy lady who has formed a connection of this kind, discovers that in the native land of her husband she is neither maid, wife nor widow. She may be east off at any moment. In deed, if the parents of her husband are powerful and unscrupulous, sho may, on their representations, be expelled from tho country by tho orders and coercion of the polioo. Painful instances of the working of this law have been recently brought to notice—instances in which ladies of respectable birth and gentle nurture suddenly found them selves discarded, and thrust with little ones on the cruel streets of Paris, home less and friendless. But for the kindly succor of ono or two charitable organiz ations in the oapital Hof France, it is impossible to say what end tney might have come to. However, even after charity has rescued them from their miserable plight, their condition is and must remain infinitely painful. No amount of benevolence can restore the discarded matron to her honorable sta tion- Uambelta’g Lire. The upper rooms at the Palais Bour bon are less desolately grand than those below; and here, in certain snug petit appartments, Gambetta truly liveB. He has had the place fitted up with a special view to his peculiar needs. In one room he revenges himself by the com forts of his dinners on the occasional desolation of the breakfasts eaten below. He is by no means indifferent to tho pleasures of tho table—ns a Frenchman of influence ho ennnot afford to be; but ho has learned to enjoy these with more moderation since his doctors warned him that he was on the high-road to a catastrophe. At one time he never walked, but simply worked and fed, fed and worked; now he does his given number of miles on foot every day, al- wnys with a companion, and as often as not, with Goquelin, the great comic actor of the Franoaise, Moreover he takes steady exercise in his gymnasium and finds the time for it by getting his secretary to read the morning papers while he is up aloft on the bars. An other part of his regimen of health is to take cold douches, the craze with all Frenchmen—and, it may be added, French women—juat now. The supreme bon ton with the latter is to have gallop in the Bots, nnd then jump off tho horso, beforo they cool, to be pumped on with almost ice-cold water. A year or two it was to cat arsenic for health; but, ot course, the fashions change. Gambetta lias even taken to lc sport, and, whenever he can find time, is out with gun nnd dog. All this Is understood to be a part of his physioal training for the presidency oi the republic; he has had his politioal training long since in many n trying soene.—London Timet. ter ^Your prophecies are oertatnbr Cassandra’s in one respeot, Will, a least, for I don’t b , elieve * "^yer them; but if I am erring, and theyevCT oome&true, why, I’ll co “ e1 ? kev an( i smitten roese ac norco, me with tho aforesaid wreatn an j. tlirough th(J icy wa u t j mt wa3 g ra <} you shall teach me to love. j ^ forming round her heart, and, gain?” “ jy| To-Day and To-Horrow. To-day we gather bright and beauti ful flowers—to-morrow they are faded and dead. To-day a wreath of leaves shades us— to-morrow sear, and, fallen, they crum ble beneath our tread. To-day the earth is covered with a carpot of green—to- morrow it is brown wiih the withered grass. To-dey the vigorous stalk only bends before the gale—to-morrow, leafless and sapless, a child may break the brittle stem. To-day the ripening fruit and waving grain—to-morrow “ the land is taking its rest after toil.” To-day we hear sweet songsters of meadows and forests, the buzz and hum of myriad insects—to-morrow breathe softly, all nature is hushed and silent. To-day a stately edifice, complete in finish and surrounding, attracts the pa3ser-by—to-morrow a heap of ruins marks the site. To-day there are cattle upon a thou sand hills—to-morrow they fall by slaughter. Fashion otee. Shirred belts, pointed front and back, are fashionable. Gobelin tapestry borders are seen upon many of tho autumn dresses. Some of tho new French hooded wraps form a sort of overskirt, but arc much too complicated to describe. The monkey, tho parrot and the ele. plmut, arc the tfirco animals fashion able for ladies’ cravat pins, in the French capital just at present. A great deni of gray is used again for children’s costumes, but it is invariably brightened by garnitures oi peacock blue, flame color or scarlet. Baby boys until they reach about eighteen months wear close French caps of lucks, lace and needlework, the same precisely |ns those worn by little girls. Beautiful mantlo lambrequins aro of satiu to match curtains and furniture, adorned with pictures of real artistic merit, painted in oil or water colors. Among the novelties of the soason are quaint twilled silks, with Egyptian de signs, such as jars, lotus leaves, wad ing birds, and hieroglyphics brocaded on their surface. Jerseys or Veroneso surcoats are being adopted by fashionable New York ladies, but can never become popular on account of their expense. They are made by special measurement of the figure and woven to lit. The Chinese style is very much af- lected by many Parisian Indies. Tho dresses of quaint and brightly-hued Chinese goods are worn more and more close to the figure, and are decidedly short, showing the Chineso shoes, which arc pointed at tho toes. Both Chineso and Japanese materials are largely used for indoor robes. Diroctoire collars and dress puffs of black velvet richly embroidered in gold are very stylish and becoming. Some times an edge of gold lace is added. They arc also made ot garnet, purple, wine or dark myrtle green velvet, or brocaded satin de Lyon, and edged with a frill of creamy Languedoc lace. Portia fans are greatly in favor at the present moment in Paris. They are made of ostrich and peacock feathers, and the plumage of the golden or Im- peyan pheasants. Other feathers are employed, hut these are the favorites. The centers ot these fans are semotimes adorned with heads or wings of small brilliant-colored birds. The long cloaks worn last winter are likely to be in general U9e next season. There is much to be said in their favor, but they have some disadvantages. These cloaks completely cover the dress, and are consequently very economical, as old skirts can be worn under th-.m. This is, however, not an advantageous fashion for dressmakers, as there is no demand for handsome walking suits when these cloaks arc fashionable. “ Madam, your boy can’t pass at half fare he’s too large,” said a ticket col lector of a Scotch train which had been long detained on the road by the snow. “He may bo too large now,” replied the matron; “ but he was small enough when wo started.” The collector gave The tinlllotine In France. A letter from Paris describes bow tho murderer, Menesclon, was executed According to custom he was kept in ignorance of the time fixed for his dentil until within a few moments of ids exe cution. He had passed the evening in company with two jailors, who had lor some days been bis constant com pan Ions, in playing cards, and an unusually bountiful supper which was supplied to him might have nrousod his suspic ions, but it did not, nnd nt mir night lie went to sleep. Shortly niter daybreak the govornor of tho prison, with the priest and executioner nnd his assis tants, entered tho corridor lending to the coll of the condemned. The jailors, at a signal, opened tho door of tho cell, and on first awakening Menesclon, informed him that his last hour had come and admitted tho priest. Tho latter remained with Menesclon for ten minutes. The governor, tho execu tioner nnd assistants then entered. MoiiCsclon was in agony of fear, and it wins with difficulty that tho executioner made what is called “the toilet.” cut ting tho hair ot tho prisoner short, cut ting oft’ tho collar of his shirt .inn bind ing Ills hands behind him. This beimi done, the convict was hurried through the corridor to the door which opened upon, the square, where the guillotine was ready to receive him. The scene at this moment was torribly s imbre. The suu was Just rising, but its light was obscured by dense clouds, and at the moment the prison door openod a vio lent storm of thunder and lightning broke forth. The condemned at this in stant was overcome with terror and sank almost to the ground. The as sistants of tuo executioner had to drag him to the guillotine, which had been erected only a few p ft cos from the portal of the prison. In a moment afterward the knife had fallen and all was over Iiorr Maud H. Trotted a Mile in 2:10 8-4. The following account is given of the trotting horse Maud S.’s performance at Chicago, where she beat tho best time on record: It was nearly six o’clock and growing dark when Maud S. was brought on the track. The sky was cloudy and a strong south wind was blowing. At the first send off Maud soon left her feet, and her driver, Bair, turned her back for a fresh start. She then trotted to tin starting-point square and level, and as her driver nodded for the word quickly lengthened out her stride, and got to the quarter in thirty- four seconds. It was then believed im possible for her to do better than 2:16 or 2:18, but when she got down to the sec ond quarter at a 2:03 gait, the fastest quarter on record, there was breathless interest and expectancy. It was feared, however, that tho strong head wind when she turned, would slacken her speed materially, and render it impoS' sible to win. Stie kept straight forward, however, without a break or skip, and marked the three-quarter of a mile pole in 1:36. Bair urged her gently with voice and whip. She responded gamely and the multitude was breathless ns she went the final quarter and thundered down tho homestretch in 2:10|. The time by quarters was: First, 34:. sec ond, 301; third, 31$; fourth, 34}. Loud cheers greeted the mare, her 1 j r ; ver and manager as they went to 8 t a blo Heir-Love. Oh, I oould go through ell lile’e trouble* singing, Turning earth’s night to day, It sell wero not so last around me, olingtng To all I do or soy. My very thoughts are selflsli, always building Mean oastlos in the air; uso my love for others tor a gilding To make uiyseU look fair, fancy all tho world engrossed with judging My merit or my blame; Its warmest praise seems an nngrnolouB grudging Ol praise which I might olaim. In youth, or age, by oity, wood or mountain Self Is forgotten never; Whor’er wo tread, It gushee like • fountain, Its waterB flow forever. Oh, miserable omnipresence, stretching Over all time end space, How have I run from thee, yet found thee reeohlng The goal In evory race. Inevitable self) vile Imitation Of unlvorsal light— Within our hearts a dreadful usurpation Ol God’s exclusive right t ITEMS OF INTEREST. Tho roofer ha* an elevated occupa tion, but a hire life is led by the livery horse. It is dillioult to become familiar with 1 the wheels of a watch, bo many of them travel in cog. “ Bridget, this dust upon the furniture is intolerable. What shall I do?” “ Do oa I do, marm; pay no attention to it.” Never does a man believe so strongly in the attraction of gravitation as when he sits down in a chair and finds It gone. It was a young honsekerper who set the onke she had baked for a picnic out of doors one cold night to be frosted. A medical student says ho has never been able to discover the bone of conten tion, and desires to know if It is not the jaw-bone. Wall-paper manufacturers in Berlin liave recently commenced the manufac ture ol leather wall-paper, which is, made chiefly of sheepskin. Its useful- ncss is not confined to the papering of walls, but is also used largely In the up- holsteiy of sofas and chairs, and unites the beauty of design with durability. Dennys, district superintendent of police In tho Domoh district in tho cen tral provinces of India, recently cap tured a cobra, and held it in his right hand while he pointed out to some friends the poison fangs. By a sudden effort tho reptilo darted its head for ward enough to touch the point of the index finger of Dennys’ left hand. Despite every effort to savo his life he died in three hours. A man named his dog Gosh, and when the animal was present at a picnic where a lot of bees got loose he ran from one person to another as fast as his legs could carry him to see what they wanted of him. Tile man who would not die in spring time may be killed by a fall. m A Touch „| Mature. Ladies in the aa bit of climbing on top of tables or sideboards when a timid mouse Appears i n a room, might have tho g rac e to blush for their pusil lanimity wheri they read of that sailor on the Vera Cruz. The sea was swarm ingwithrato driven from the sinking ship, and* one of the terrified creatures seized t ne ear of the swimming sailor, witho ut breaking the skin. “Ididn have, the heart to shake him off,” says the soft-hearted fellow, who could even p'.ty a rat while death was staring him 1 itl the face; “sol let him hold on, but i 1L0 next wave Washed him away.” The Washington Monument. Ono hundred and seventy-five men at work make tho vicinity of Washington monument a very busy scene, says a letter from the national capital. The Baltimore and Potomac railroad has finished the switch from long bridge via Fourteenth street to the base of tho shaft, and cargoes ol unliown blocks of marble and granite arrive every day. At present marble is coming from Maryland. Seventy-live min aro at work dressing up the blocks as they arrive. Superintendent McLaughlin in tends to increase the loree as soon a possible to 120, which is the full capacity of tho cutting sheds. Two entire courses have been laid, nnd, with good fortune, by this timo next year 100 feet will be added to the height of the shaft. The outer wall of marblo is laid in limit of Tiel while tho inner wall of granite is held by hydraulic Portland cement. About forty-five memorial stones are already in place on the inner wall, and a number of others, which now rest in the museum shed, will be set in as the architect and monumental secretary think advisable. At present masons are not at work np on the top, but the first of next week work will be beguu again and continued until the eighteenth of December, when it is expected the weather will interfere. A full corps of stonecutters will be em ployed all winter, so that by spring enough stone will bo ready to supply the masons until frosts compels them to stop. A Good Deed Rewarded. Many curious stories are told of the influence exercised by the Afghan chiefs over their followers, among the most striking of which is the following: A young English subaltern, attached to the Cabul expedition of 1811 2, rescued an Afghan pilgrim from some British soldiers who were handling him roughly. The pilgrim warmly thanked his ddiverer, saying with emphasis that “ an Afghan nover for'ots a good turn or a bad one.” Some months later, dur ing the fatal battle of the Kurd-Cabul pass, our hero saw one of the enemy point to him repeatedly, and concluded himself singled out for destruction. But, to his amazement, he remained un hurt amid the hottest lire, while his men were dropping around him like leaves, those who had molested the pil grim being the flrst to fall. At length several ol the enemy disarmed and dragged him down by main force, cheoking those who wished to kill hi by declaring him to be under the pro- tcotion of their chief. The chief in question proved to be identical with the rescued pilgrim—a disguise assumed to aid his designs against the English— and the officer, having been hospitably entertained, was dismissed without van; sou. V-