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SANDERSVILLE, GA., NOVEMBER 23, 1880.
NO. 34.
G , w. H. WHITAKER,
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Terms Cxsn.
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April 3, 1830.
B. D. EVANS,
Attorney at Law,
Sandersville, On.
April 3, 1880.
DR, WM. RAWLINGS,
Physician & Surgeon,
Sandersville, Ga.
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April 10, 1880.
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NOTARY PUBLIC,
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May 1, 1880.
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April] 1880.
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tr opinions of oonwapondenta.
Potting It Off.
lu winter timo I first began
To court you, Annie, dear.
And breathed, ns lovers only can,
Solt nothings in that onr.
I dronmod about you halt tho nightf
I wooed you hall tho day,
In sunny hopes, in visions bright,
Tho winter pass’d away.
Twas in tho springtime, Annie, dear,
You swore to bo mv bride;
Tho lattor days of March were here—
The hour was eventide.
Yon begged a very briel delay—
A month, or littloraore;
Mut, ero you named the happy day,
Tho spring, nlas, was o’er!
In summer timo I bravely dared,
Dear Annie, to suggest
That, if wo thought of getting paired,
That season wns tlio boBt.
What bliss to linil the merry mom
That mado you all my own!
Hut while I lingorod, atill forlorn,
1 found tbo Bummer flown,
Soptombor brings tlio autumn hero;
Tho leavos begin to lull,
Full soon upon tlio landscape drear
Will winter spread its pall.
In gloom I sit, with solemn phiz,
A moody single man—
Whoso only consolation is
That you’re a spinster, Anne!
Music.
GO TO
JERNIGAN
FOB
BOLINS,
ACCORDEONS,
BOWS,
STRINGS,
— r osin boxes, etc.
Machine Needles,
OIL and SHUTTLES
, Macl,ine8 > lor sale. I will
r purls of Machines that get
and new pieces
ere wanted.
J. JERNIGAN.
worth of United
fiscal year n ?»ao tlimpS were sold in fche
lif tcen’ a " iucre!lse of about
1879. Tiio Cent " ° 1 ’ nearl y $000,000 over
Penalties . reuei ved in the shape of
1879 to v.,‘‘f' nisbed ,r °m 9300,000 in
less comm- . 11 snles °f adhesive stamps,
1880 10 ” S ’ wore $123,081,919 in
mor etLan"8in ° Ver 1879 of a liu]e
man $10,500,000,
A SEARCH FOR A SITUATION.
Mnrtie Woodbridge—her name was
Martha, but no one called her so-
lived on the outskirts of a small village.
Her fnther was a farmer, but not a
prosperous one. Nature, with its frosts
and droughts, was always getting the
upper lmnd of him, and the crops which
he raised were sure to be those whioh
brought the lowest price in tho market.
The cankerworm stripped his apple
trees, and a late frost blighted tho corn
and oats. Ho had tho misfortune to
buy a cow which introduced tho cattle
disease into his farmyard, and Creamer,
Spotty and Whitefnce—the three cows
ti nt nlways filled their pails the fullest
and made the most golden butter— sick
ened and died.
This was the question which Martie
puzzled over from day to day, coming at
last to the conclusion that she must try
her luck in the big world which she had
seen so little of outside of her own small
village. She would go to London, and,
if possible, find there n situation as gov
erness, in which she could at least pro
vide for her own support.
Her mother let fall a low quiet tears
over tho plan, and smiling patiently
through them said: " Ask your father.’
Mr. Woidbridgo said ‘ No," at first;
but having laid awake all night over his
difficulties, he called Martie to him,
kissed her solemnly, gave a weary sigh,
and with it his consent.
So it came to pass that on a cool, crisp
Oetober morni lg, when the woods were
•it their brightest autumn flush, and the
frost had stiffened the grn3s into little
silvery blades and spears, and made tho
few pale flowers that lingered by the
roadside hang their heads, Martio put
on her bravest smile,made hopeful, com
forting little speeches, kissed them all
good-bye at home—the dear old home,
so full of joys and troubles—and started
for London, to put into that great, hur
rying, driving, jostling market the
modest wares she had to offer.
Martie was eager and full of hope;
but, alas! how much eagerness and hope
fulness go down to death every day in
the frantic rush and scramble for the
good things going. Martie, in the great
city, looking for work to do, seemed
like a quiet little wren trying to pick up
a worm or crumb where hawks and
vultures were snatching and clawing
for plunder.
Martie was met the fmoment she
stepped from the train by an old friend
of the family, who had kindly promised
to receivo her at her house, and do what
she could to assist her. The next day,
early in tho morning, a modest unpre
tending little advertisement wa3 sent to
one of the daily newspapers. What a
stupendous affair it seemed to Martie,
and how her unsophisticated little heart
beat at the thought of it! Nothing could
tiomo of it that day, however; and
while she goes out with Mrs. Allen to
do a little shopping and stare at a few of
the city lions, let us take a look at tho
quarters she has fallen into.
Mrs. Allen kept a small private Jodg
ing house, very select and very genteel.
Its inmates were the learned Professor
Bigwig and family, from whose presence
n certain literary aroma was supposed
to pervade the atmosphere; the brilliant
Colonel Boreas, hero-according to Ins
own account-of numberless battles;
a rising young lawyer, with his pretty,
blushing girl wife, all fresh and lovely
in her new bridal toilet; a rich wtdow
and her still richer daughter, who it
was said, wns soon to become the help
mate of the clerical member of the
hous hold, the Rev. Paul Apollosj and
hou h not least, the representative
of the tine arts, Mr. Raymond, an artist,
whoso pictures had won golden praises
from critics and connoisseurs, and golden
prices from purchasers. (
Mr. Raymond was Marties leftha
neighbor at the table. With the fir
glance at his dark face, iron-gray hair
and mustache, and deep-set gray eyes,
she felt rather inclined to b °* fra,d ° f
him. When he smiled she liked him
better, and thought the gray oyeailooked
kind, and she felt very shy and lonesome
among these strange faces, and was gad
to have him talk a little, tc.her. andtake
care that she was provided with all sh
wanted.
On the second morning after she
arrived in tho city Martie’s advertise
ment appeared.
Mrs. Allen sent a paper to her room
before she was out of bed, so that almost
as soon as her eyes were open she had
begun to hope, and to be afraid, and to
Wonder, if out of so many people who
she supposed would come to see her, any
of them would think well enough ol her
to want her services.
Martie wns very painstaking with her
toilet that morning. 8ho wanted to
look her best. She spent twice the
usual time over her wavy, gold brown
hair; and when she put on her pretty
gray dress—the gray dress was for morn
ing, and the black silk for afternoon—
and fastened the dainty spotless collar
and cuffs, she dallied fully five minutes
over her little stock of ribbons, trying
this one and that, and went down at
last to breakfast, looking, to Mr. Ray
mond’s artist eyes, which took her in at
a glance, like a wild rose just out of a
thicket, with the dewy morning bright
ness brimming in her bright eyes, tho
pink of rose petals in her cheeks and
soft, warm, shimmering BUnbcams
woven into the ripple of her brown hair.
How bis artist fingers longed for canvas
and colors, to givo to his beloved St.
Agnes that beautiful hair!
But the wild rose might as well ’have
been blooming in her native thicket. In
vain Martie peeped from tho front win
dows, and held her breath when tho
door-bell rang. No one came to see the
gray dress that morning.
The black dress fared better. It was
called upon; and Martie went down to
the parlor, with her heart in her mouth,
to meet the grand lady whose carriage
and dashing horses she had watched as
they drew up in splendid style before
the house. But, nlas I Mnrtie was
not experienced, and Martie wns too
young, and though mndam did not say
so, Martio was too pretty, for there was
a grown-up son in the family, and to set
youth and beauty before him in the
shape of a young governness would bo
tempting Providence. Madam was
verry sorry, hoped this and that, and
swept gracefully out to her carriage,
while Martie mounted with rather slow
step to her little fourth-story room, to
watch and wait, and wonder if every
body would find her too young. She
wns not to blame for it, anyhow, she
said to hersolf, trying to coax n ’nugh.
No one else came that day, but the
next morning there was nn early call
for “ the lady who advertised.” Martie
was glad sho had on tho gray dress;
perhaps she looked older in it. But
gray or black was all the same; she was
again weighed in the balance and found
wanting—not in years this time, but in
German; anl as one weary hour after
another went by, and no other appli
cants appeared, Martie grew heavy
hearted. Her advertisement was to
appear for three day3. Two had already
passed, resulting in disappointment.
Mrs. Allen tried to encourage her, but
when uight came, and the six o'clock
dinner, Martie felt sad and homesick.
“ l hope no one has made arrange
ments to carry you off just yet," Mr.
Raj mond said, as he took a seat beside
her at their end of tile long table.
‘‘No," said Martio, “ no one wants
me. I’m too young, and I don’t know
German." And a big round tear rolled
over into her teacup.
“ There's no cause for discouragement
in that, I assure you,” said Mr. Ray
mond . “ I know people who would
not find fault with you on either score."
Then he went on talking to her in
such a pleasant way that she soon be
came interested, forgot all her troubles,
and tho tear in her teacup, and was as
merry as though she had been older and
had known German.
Mr. Raymond stayed downstairs until
ten o’clock, read aloud an old-time fire
side story, and kept the ball of conver-
sati >n rolling in such pleasant channels
that the evening was gone before Martie
knew it, and spite of all her disapppoint-
ments it had somehow been the pleas
antest one she had spent there.
The next morning a lady came to see
Martie in behalf of her mother-in-law,
and Martie engaged to go the following
day to see the place and people.
There was no poetry about Mrs.
Myrick. She was pure, unadulterated;
wanted her girls to have a good, strong
education— no jimcracks, no furrin
language to jabber in. Sho was willing
to pay good wages—would give a gov
erness $100 a year and her board; but
she mustn’t expect much waiting on.
They didn’t keep any servants—didn’t
need any, a pity ’twould be if two
hearty girls like hers couldn’t do their
own work.
Poor Martie! She would not say no
at once, because this was, so far, her
only chance; so she promised to give an
answer soon, and she went back to her
room praying heaven to send her some
thing better.
She thought her prayer was answered
wlien a gentleman called that evening,
talked with her about his three little
girls, and seemed wall satisfied with
the modest account she gave of herself,
He was very particular about music
however, and would be glad to hear
Miss Woodbridge play. Their inter
view had taken place in the kindly shel
ter of the quiet little reception room;
but the piano was in the big parlor, and
in there the professor and the Rev. Paul
Apollos were discussing earth and
heaven- The colonel was stalking
about, showing off his martial figure,
and the young bride, by the side of her
new lord, was holding court in the
midst of a lively circle of callers.
Shy, bashful Martie I How could she
play before all these people? Poor,
timid little wren, tbnt had justorept
from under the mother wing and flown
out of her nest! Gould she show what
sweet music she knew how to make with
a crowd of listeners?
There was none of the airs and graoe
of the music-pounding young woman
about Martie, as she dropped down upon
the piano stool and took a moment’s
grace before entering upon the dreadful
jordeal. ’Twas no use waiting, but ab,
1 1 the gentleman would but sit down I
Why yriU he stadd beside her and
watch her poor, frightened hngert ns
they trip and stumble, give a wild jump
for a distant note and miBS it, make a
dive for onooctave and lignt on another,
and at last lose their way altogether and
go on chasing each other up and
down the key note. Martie[knows the
piece she is trying to play as well as she
k nows her name, but it flies out of her
head and slips away from [her fingers,
and she endB at laBt with a finale of her
own improvising, feeling her hair stand
straight upon her head'as she does it.
Tho gentleman was " much obliged,"
t ft almost immediately, and Martie, in
a state of grief and mortification, was
rushing through tho hall, exclaiming,
with a sob, os she covered her face with
her handB, "What shall, I doP” when
she wns suddenly stopped at the foot of
the stairs by Mr. Raymond.
“ My dear child,” said he, “ don’t take
it so much to heart. I’ve heard you
play that piece before, and thought how
well you did it; but, of course, you
couldn’t play with all those peoplo
staring and listening. The man was a
brute to ask you to do it.’’
"Oh, no; it is I who am such a sim
pleton," snld Martie; “ but you are very
good to me;’’ and she hurried upstairs,
longing to get where nobody could see
her, but leeling comforted a little, even
then, by the tender sympathy whioh hod
done its besttoeonBolo her.
Once in her own room the floodgates
were opened, and Martie cried over
what she called her disgraceful failure
until she had succeeded in getting up a
raging headache. Then she went to bed
with tbo determination of writing in the
morning to Mrs. Myrick, informing tha‘
lady tbat she was ready to accept her
offer and enter upon tho " eddication" of
her daughters. But before she had
time to carry her resolution into effect
Mrs. Myrick herself appeared, having
made up her mind that Martie would
not do for them. She hadn’t been
brought up in their ways, and was like
to bo too purtickler.
Thus [vanished all hopes of success
from advertising. Mrs. Allen next ad
vised that Martie should try one of the
educational agencies in the city, and an
application was accordingly made.
Then followed more days of anxious
waiting and of hopes deferred, resulting
at last in a visit and n generous oftVr
from a lady who won Martie’s luart at
the outset with her pleasant face and
winning ways, and[hcr gentle, motherly
talk about the little boys atd the two
little girls at home for whom she wanted
1 teacher and companion. But, nlas!
that home lay hundreds of miles away.
It seemed to Martie like going to the
ends ol the earth. She had twenty-four
hours in whicli to decide; spent half the
timo in wavering between yes and no-
bet ween the courage to go and the home
sickness which crept over her at the
very thought of it. Then scolding her
self for a genuine coward, she made
up her mind that go she must, and go
she would.
“ What?" exclaimed Mr. Raymond, in
a tone of surprise. “ Have you really
made up your mind to go so far from
home and all your friends ?”
“ Yes, I must go,” said Martie, with
a little quiver in her voice. "Please
don’t say anything to discourage me.”
“ 1 wouldn’t for the world,” returned
Mr. Raymond, "only that.I know of a
situation nearer home which you can
have if you will accept it. Come into
the reception-room, and I will tell you
about it.”
Martie wns all eagerness now, llow
delightful if, after ail, she should not be
obliged to make an exile of herself,
“ It is a companion, not a teacher tbat
is wanted,” Mr. Raymond continued.
Would you be willing to take a situa
tion as companion?”
Martie’s face fell a little, but she
answered:
" I should be very glad to tako such a
situation, if I could fill it. Do you
think I could?”
“ I’m sure you could.”
“ Do you know the person who wants
a companion?"
“ Yes."
“ Who is it?"
" Myself.”
“ Yourselfl How—what—”
The exact question which Martie in
tended asking just here must be left to
the imagination, since she did not seem
to be clear about it herself.
Mr. Raymond continued:
“ Yes; it is I, Martie I want you for
my companion—my wife.” The gray
eyes twinkled as he asked. "Will you
take the Situation?”
An hour later Mrs. Allen entered the
room, exclaiming, “ Bless my soul!” as
she stumbled upon an unmistakable
pair of lovers.
“ My dear Mrs. Allen,” said Mr. Ray
mond, taking his blushing "compan
ion” by the hand, and leading her to
the astonished old lady, "I know you
will be glad to hear that Martie will uo
be able to make an engagement with
that old lady; she has already made one
with me.’’
BURNING FOUR TEARS.
A ■laming Coal Mina and a Hundred
Miners at Work In a Vain tlnuer the
Fire.
A recent letter from Scranton, Pa-,
to the New York Herald, says: It is
more than four years ago since what is
known as the upper vein of the Butler
colliery, at Pittston, a short distance
from this city, was discovered to be on
fire. At first it created but little alarm,
as it was thought that the fire would
exhaust itself as soon as ithad consumed
the out-croppings or exposed portions of
the anthracite on the edges of tho t-nve
hole in which it broke out, but it re
quired only a short time to Bhow tho
fallacy of this theory. It mado rapid
headway through tho worked-out por
tions of the colliery, where it wbb fed
by wooden propB and pillars of coal, and
the rush of air through tlio numerous
cave j holes caused it to gleam and roar
like a furnace. The sulphur flames
emitted through] the cave holes fur
nished a picturesque.scene at night, and
gave tho placo the appearance ol a
volcano. At length the company be
came alarmed, and their alarm was in
creased by a notice from tlio Pennsyl
vania Coal company, whose property ad-
ioins the Butler colliery, and who noti
fied the proprietors of the burning mine
that they would be held to account for
any damage done by the spread of the
fire. The Butler Goal company then
secured the services of Mr. Conrad, a
practical engineer, to devise a plan for
extinguishing the flames and preventing
the threatened disaster.
After various unsueoessful experi
ments Mr. Conrad became convinced
that the only effective way of arresting
the progress of the fire was by isolation
—namely, digging a deep trenoh around
the entire area of the fire and sinking it
from the surface below the burning vein.
The work was undertaken and carried on
at an enormous cost. In some places
the ditch had to be constructed as deep
as from eighty to 100 feet and corre
spondingly wide. It was a great task.
At one point, owing to the great eleva
tion, the place had to be tunneled
through for about 100 yards, and it was
feared even then, owing to the rapid
progress that the fire was making in
that direction, that it would secure n
lodgment among the rocks and " bony”
coal overhead and cross the tunnel to
(.be workings beyond. It is; still burn
ing fiercely at this point, but it is hoped
that the lire will not extend outside tho
limits of the isolated area.
Just now the greatest danger is that
encountered by tbo miners who are
working the second vein, directly under
the burning mine. The heat is so in
tense that the men are compelled to
work in these chambers almost naked,
and the sulphurous nature of the atmos
phere has prostrated many of their
number within the last year, while sev
eral have been compelled to quit and
seek work elsewhere. A few months
ago the water from tho roof came down
upon them boiling hot, and after Mine
Inspector Jones visited the scene he
caused a suspension of operations nud
hod an air shaft sunk outside the burn
ing area so[as to introduce a fresh sup
ply of air to the workmen. But even
this is ineffectual now, owing to the ter-
ible heat overhead, and again the sul
phur and caloric are unbearable. Men
are in peril of theii lives every limn
they fire a shot, and in some places it is
impossible to blast because of the sul
phur and great volumes of dangerous
gases generated from above. The vein
of coal being worked at present is so in
tensely hot at some places as to be un
bearable to the touch, and frequently
the workmen arc compelled to let the
coal lie for hours before they can land
it on the cars, owing to.its blistering
heat. The situation is really terrible,
and even if some sudden and awful
calamity does not ensue, it will cost
many men their lives if they work there
much longer. It is like working in an
oven. Nothing but their extreme pov
erty could possibly induce the miners
and laborers to accept such labor. The
coal they mine comes up hot out of the
colliery.
Alligators’ Nests.
These nests resemble haycocks. They
are four feet high, and five in diameter
at their bases, being constructed with
grass and heritage. First, they deposit
one layer of eggs on a floor of mortar,
and having covered this with a stratum
of mud herbage eight inches thick, lay
another set of eggs upon that, and so on
to the top, there being commonly from
160 to 200 eggs in a nest. With their
tails they then beat down round the
dense grass and reeds, five feet high, to
prevent the approach of unseen enemies.
The female watches her eggs until they
are hatched by the heat of the sun, and
then takes her brood under her own
care, defending them and providing for
their subsistence. Doctor Lutzember, of
New Orleans, told the writer that ho
once paoked up one of these nests with
the eggs in a box for the museum of St.
Petersburg, but he was recommendod
before he closed it to see tbat there was
no danger of the eggs being hatched on
the voyage. On opening one a young
alligator walked out, and he was soon
followed by the rest, about 100, which
he led in his house, where they went up
and downstairs, whining and barking
like young puppies.
Next to New York, Massachusetts has
more commercial travelers than any
other State in the Union.
FARE, GARDEN AND HOUSEHOLD.
Care In Managing sheen.
American wool growers or shepherds
have yet much to learn in rognrd to the
management of their flocks. For ex
ample, the sheep in Silesia are nover
exposed to muoli rain- Shelter and
shade are provided for them. Nor are
they exposed to dust, for that is known
to be injurious to the fleece. The great
est possible care is taken in the breeding.
Men of experience are employed to go
from farm to farm to examine the sheep
and select the best rams that can be
‘ound. The rams are closely examined
as to their fleece-bearing properties, and
all but the very best are sold off. The
whole economy of the sheep farm is
as perfect as intelligence and industry
can make it. >
The Soil for Fruit Tree*.
There is a necessity for having the
land for fruit trees well drained. A
cool soil, especially for pears, is very
suitable, but no water must bo allowed
to stagnate around tho roots. Mrs.
Quin says that on stiff, tenacious clay
soils, with clay subsoils, underdraining
and deep plowing will be found essen
tial to rid the soil of stagnant water, in
order to get the conditions which will
promote a healthy and vigorous root
growth. But on good farming land,
such as will produce, with ordinary
treatment, 160 to 200 bushels oi potato s
to the aore, or sixty or seventy bushels
of shelled corn, it would be n useless
waste of money to spend the amount
nocessary to undordr&in the soil bclbre
planting pears. A dry, hilly place will
be bettor than a low one, with no good
drainage.
8ur.cea.ful Poultry Hailing.
In raising poultry or stook, it should
be the aim of every one to keep it healthy
and improve it. You can do it very
easily by adopting some systematic
rules. These may bo Bummed up in
brief as follows:
1. Construct your house good and
warm, so as to avoid damp floors, and
afford a flood of (sunlight. Sunshine is
better than medicine.
2. Provide a dusting and scratching
place, whore you can bury wheat and
corn, and thus induoe the fowls to nke
needful exercise.
3. Provide yourself with some good,
healthy ohiekens, none to be over three
or four years old, giving one cock to
every twelve hens.
4. Give plenty of Irosh air at all times
of the year, especially in summer.
6. Give plenty of fresh water t uily,
and never nllow tho fowls to go thirsty.
6. Feed them systematically two or
three times a day, and scatter the food
so they can’t eat too [fast or without
proper exercise. Do not feed more titan
they will cat up clean, or they will get
tired of that kind of feed.
7. Givo them a variety both of dry
and cooked food; a mixture of cooked
meal and vegetables is an excellent
thing for their morning meal.
8. Give soft feed in the morning, and
the whole grain nt night, oxccpt a little
wheat or cracked corn placed in the
scratching place during the day.
9 Above all things keep tho hen house
clean and well ventilated.
10. Do not crowd loo many in one
house. If you do, look out for disease.
11. Use carbolic powder in dusting
bins occasionally to destroy lice.
12. Wash your roosts and bottom of
liying nests with whitewash once a
week in summer and once a month in
winter.
13. Let the old and young have as
large a range as possible—tiie larger the
better.
14. Don’t breed too many kinds of
fowls at the same time, unless you are
going into tho business. Three or four
will keep your hands full.
15. Introduce new blood into your
stock every year or so, by either buying
a cockerel or sittings of eggs from some
reliable breeder.
16. In buying birds or eggs, go to
some reliable breeder who has his repu
tation at stake. You m <y have to pay
a little more for binls, but you can de
pend on what you get. Culls are noi
cheap at any price.
17. Save the best birds for next year’s
breeding, and send tho others to market.
In shipping fancy poultry to market
send it dressed.
18. And, above all tilings, read tho
poultry department of some good, re.
liable paper. You will gather more from
it than you can from any poultry book.
By paying attention to the above, you
cannot fail to succeed and make poultry
keeping as profitable as thousnnds have
done all over the United States.—
Rural Nebraska.
Ilou.ehold Hints.
In washing silk handkerchiefs was-h
in water in which the best white castile
soap has been lathered . Then snap be
tween your fingers until nearly dry, fold
and press under a weight. Never iron.
Zincs may be scoured with great
economy of time and strength by using
either glycerine or creosote mixed vflth
a little diluted sulphuric acid.
To restore morocco, varnish with the
white of an egg and apply with a
sponge.
If when bread is taken from the oven
the loaves'are turned topside down in
the hot tins, and are allowed to stand a
few minutes the crust {will be tender
and will cut easily.
The best way to fry iish is to first fry
some slices of salt pork, then roll the
pieces of fish in fine Indian meal and
ry in the pork gravy. About three
slices of pork for a medium-sized fish
Whitefish needs less fat than almost
any other.
The Bells.
Hark! the bridal bolls ate sailing,
<< Come one, oomo all!”
Hark! tbo words so gently tailing,
‘•Como one, oomo nil!”
And the lamps are brightly burning
And tlio gnests on tiptoe turning
At tlio marriage boll.
Hark! tbo old church bell is chiming,
n Come ono, oomo all!”
Hark! its tones so .weotly rhyming,
" Come ono, oome all!”
At tho break of morn ’tls pooling,
From yon lofty nook ’tis stealing
Tlio bright 8nbbath oall.
Hark! the bell ol time is ringing,
" Come one, oome kill”
Oh, the thoughts thoso sod notes bringing,
<' Come one, oomo all!'’
Ever through some cold heart wonding,
Kver o’or .onto poor soul ponding,
With its wondrous thrall.
Hark! Iho muffled bell is tolling,
“ Intor thy dead!”
Hark! thoso sadaon’d notes are rolling,
" Jntor thy dead!”
And before the altar lying.
Is a lorm that oneo was dying,
Now with death is wed.
— S. S, Troy, In Nation (Md.) Ledger.
IIUM0R0U8.
A grate singer—The tea-kettle.
The debor’s tree—The will-owe.
The astonomor’s pastime—Shooting
stars.
Is a clothing store a coterie, n pantry
or a vestry?
Wonder in what sort-of a vehicle the
man rode who was driven frantic?
There is a romance in figures. A
young man met a girl, ler, married her,
and took her on a wedding 2er.
Consistency may be a jewel, as has
been reported; but no capitalist has
yet been found willing to [loan money
on it.
How Bbould a romantic miller address
his lady love? In tho language of flours,
to be sure.
Why are pianos the noblest of manu
factured articles P Because they are up
right, grand and square.
A Philadelphia man who detected a
piece of bark in his sausngo visited the
butcher’s shop to know wliut had be
come of the rest of the dog.
When a man s iys “ I hear a noise,” it
probably never occurs to him that there
is nothing in this wide world that any
body can hear but a noise.
An editor out West was in prison for
libeling a justice of the peace, and when
he departed the jailor asked him to give
the prison a puff.
Thero Are No Birds in Last Year’s
Nest” is the title of a song. Probably
not. If it were equally sure that there
are no rats in last year’s rat-holes, the
public mind would ;[bc more at rest.—
Philadelphia Timet.
The ladies wear their hatB very large
this year and their bonnets very small.
As usual, they wear their bonnets on
the street and their hats at the theater.
—New Haven Register.
During one month this summer the
Philadelphia mint coined $600,060, and
how they all got past us without our
seeing one of them is what astonishes
1. —Burlington Hawkcye.
On a homeward bound Charleston car
n jolly-looking Irishman was saluted
witli the remark: “ Tim, yer iiouse was
blown away.” "Deed, thin.it isn’t,’
he answered, “ for I have the kay in my
pocket-”
How They Capture Hyenas.
The following mode of tying hyenas
in their dens, os practiced in Afghan
istan, is given by Arthur Connolly in
his " Overland Journal," in the words
of an Afghan chief, the Shirkaree Synd
Daoud.
When you have tracked the beast
to his den, you take a rope with two slip
knots upon it, in your right hand, and
with your left holding a felt cloak before
you, you go boldly but quietly in. The
animal does not know tlio nature of the
danger and therefore retires to the back
of his den but you may nlways tell
where is head is by the glare of his eyes.
You keep on moving gradually toward
him on your knees, and when you are
within distance throw the cloak over
Iris head, close with him and .take care
he does not free himself. The beast is
so frightened that he cowers back, and
though he may bite the felt, he cannot
turn his neck round to hurt you; so you
quietly feel for his forelegs, slip the
knots over them, and . then, with one
strong pull, draw them tight up to the
back of his neck and tie them .there.
The beast is now your own, and you
can do what you like witti him. We
generally take those we catch home to
the kraal, and hunt them on the plain
with bridles in their mouths, that our
dogs may be taught not to fear the
brutes when they meet them wild.”
Hyenas are also taken alive by the
Arabs by a very similar method, except
that a wooden gag is used instead of a
felt cloak. The similarity in the mode
of capture in two such distant countries
as are Algeria, and Afghanistan, and
by two races so different, is remarkable
From the faut that the Afghans consider
that the[feat requires great presence of
mind, and no instance being given o( a
man having died of a bite received in a
clumsy attempt, we may infer that the
Afghan hyena is more powerful or more
ferocious than his African oongeuor.