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the mercury. , „,i ns socnml- class matter at the Sanders- El,tf, ° ".IloPostofflce, April 27, 1830. gjndcrsvlllcj Washington Comity, Ga. PUBLISHED BY J, JERNIGAN, Pnoriutrron and Publibheb. Babsoription. .$1.50 per Year. THE MERCURY. THE MERCURY. PUBLISHED EVERY TUESDAY. A. J. JERNIGAN, Pbopbietob. DEVOTED TO LITERATURE, AGRICULTURE AND GENERAL INTELLIGENCE. 81.50 PER ANNUM. YOU. IT. SANDERSVILLE, GA., JULY 5, 1881. NO. 14. NOTICE. eTAll communications intended for this pa per must be aeeompaniod with tho full name oj the writer, not necessarily for publication, but as aguarantoo oi good faith. We are in no way responsible for the views Of indolons of correspondents. Watches, Clocks and jewelry REPAIRED BY JERNIGAN POSTOFFICE HOURS. 7:00 to 11:30 A. m. 1:3(J to 0:00 v. M. E. A. Sullivan, P. M. Subscribe for the MERCURY Only $L50 per annum. PUBLISUED BY JERNIGAN & SCARBOROUGH BUY YOUR Spectacles, Spectacles, FROM JERNIGAN. Nono gonuiuo without our Trado Mark, On liaud and for salo, Spectacles, Nose Glasses, Etc IG! IG -GO TO- JERNIGAN —FOR— BOWS, STRINGS, ROSIN BOXES, Ac Machine Needles. Oil and Shuttles foil ALL KINDS OF MACHINES, for sals 1 will also order parts of Machines that got broken, for winch new piocoB aro wantod. A. .T. JERNIGAN, G. W. H. WHITAKER, DENTIST, SANDERSVILLE, GA. Truss Casn. Offleo at hiB Hesidonco, on Harris Stroot. April 3, 1880. B. D. EVANS, Attorney at Law, SANDEItSVILLE, GA. April 3, 1880. DR. WM, RAWLINGS, Physician & Surgeon, SANDEItSVILLE, GA. Office at Snndersvillo Hotol. April 10, 1880. E. A. SULLIVAN, NOTARY PUBLIC, SANDERSVILLE, GA. Office in tho Court-houso. 0. H. ROGERS, Attorney at Law, Sandersvillo, Ga. 11ompt attention given to all business, Ollico in northwest wing of Court-house. May 4, 1880. C. C. BROWN, Attorney at Law, Sandersvillo, Ga. Sandorsvillo, Ga. Do Youi’ Heat. Havo you failed to-day, Good Heart ? ’Tis no eauso for sorrow. Try again;"the clouds may pari— Perhaps may part to-morrow. If you are a brave strong man, You will do tho best you enn. Do your best, atid leave tho rest; Bettor may come to-morrow. Ilavo you lost your land or gold ? That’B no eauso for sighing; Ouo bright hour doth oft Infold Many a year’s denying. Bo not weary or downcast— " Pationco holds tho gato at last.” Do your best, and loavo tho roBt, And never give up your trying. ltich or poor, bo all a man; Wear no golden fetter. Do tho vory best yon can, And you’ll soon do hotter. Evory day you do your host Isa vantago for tho roBt. Don’t complain; ovory gain Is making your host still bettor. HER LAST SERIAL. In nn extremely small and plainly- furnished room, located in tlio out skirts of tlio city of P—, sat n pale, norvous-looking woman, bending over a writing-desk. She was apparently about thirty, and earlier in life had unques tionably boen vory handsome, for evon now there remained traces of beauty upon the sweet, sad face. A little table stood by her sido, on which lay a pile of manuscript, to which from time to time she added another carefully numbered sheet. That she wns not a novice in tho business, the legibly-written and care fully-punctuated pages showed at a glance. Sho threw down her pen at last with a sigli, and clasped her slender lingers across hor forehead, as if in intense one human heart can understand an other, sho felt that he loved her but sho knew that her uncle disapproved oi him, because his fortune was yob io bo carved out by his own hand, although she did not know of tho premature in formation that Mr. Elverton lmd given of her marriage. pain. Special attention given to tho collection ol L'lnims. ''j 1 * l’™ctico in tho Stato and United States Office in Court-house. H. N. H0LLIFIELD, Physician and Surgeon, Ollier next door to Mrs, 1010 (l » Harris Stroot. Bayno’s millinery DR. J. B. ROBERTS, Physician and Surgeon, Sandorsvillo, Ga. ii.. ‘; v consulted at his offico on Haynes , I t!, ° Masonio Lodge building, from 9 mi. , 1 !’• m -, and from 3 to 5 p. m.; during Ms rosidonco on Church Stroot, ' n , 0 .i Professionally ongagod. J'lion i April :i,‘ 1880.'’ ITh?.?f s ’hnedSteel DIIIM, POINTS. t beautifully, and instead of crowding . - ieh roarfl, scatter It 3V, 4, and 6 ini. j ’InKTnm 1 standing wider apart, have mote ROOM * iu bTOOL, derive inure nourishment from the soil, a become more vigorous, produce better developed average heads. Send for Illustrated Pamphlet ruithTcaUmoniat* J.A.J0NE8, WILMINGTON, DEL t ngo, and I s drilled r against/or/y- v»i"uug. II. CLAYTON, " i got L.yu, 011 ! 11 R** 11 * i'f Middleton, Dal,, and Farmer. *lth your Pnim! 11 !,* “f® more wheat, where I drilled ,eat i «howiug 'you no'i 1,10 old «tyle. 1 gave them a fair "JOSHUA CLAYTON. Jn„ Ml. Pleasant. Del. "I cannot write," she murmured, ' 1 with this blinding headache. I shall not liuvo my story finished in time, and how will my rent bo paid without, or how shall I get broad and clothes for my children ?" • A dreary prospect surely, if this woro her only resource. A slight, dolicuto woman as sho was, sho looked little able to cope successfully with the ob stacles that must bo mot by every one in tho battle of life; and for children too, for at that moment tho door flew open and two tiny girls, of four and sovon years, came hounding gleefully in. "May we come,mamma!" said Irma, I he eldest of tho two, as she nestled up to her mother’s side, whilo Bessie im pulsively sprang into hor mother’s lap, and cuddled tho pretty, golden head against Mrs. Gerry’s neck, with the artlessness of happy childhood. Writing was over for a little whilo at least, and Mrs. Gerry gave herself up to tho “children’s hour,” with a weary sigh, as she thought of tho night work boforo her. The long, sultry, summer day was nearly over, and after caressing her dar lings for a short time the motlior arose and prepared their supper. Soon afterward, putting them to bed, she resumed her weary task. Could Robert Erskine havo seen her as she sat there, toiling so earnestly for her children, he would novor havo ro cognized in her the beautiful Ethel Wil bur, tho girl to whom ten years before he had given all tho love of his proud sensitive nature. Time and trouble had wrought sad changes in the face he once thought so fair. She had loved him far better than he knew, but she was the heiress of a rich, old bachelor uncle, imperious to the last degree, who, discovering an attach ment springing up between his niece and Robert Erskine, had forbidden him the house, telling him too that she was about to become the wife of a rich mu Robert, it is true, was only a printer; but he was ambitious, and was already receiving a good salary. He was of Scotch parentage, and pos sessing the indomitable energy and de cision characteristic, of his race, was likely to make a success of his future Mr. Elverton, however, could brook no thwarting of his cherished plans He had selected the future husband for his niece, and he expected her, with the utmost confidence in his superioi wisdom, to yield gracefully and obedi ently in her acceptance of the suitor whom ho had chosen. A man fifteen years her senior, stem, reserve and incapable of arousing the emotional part of her nature, but pos sessed of unlimited wealtn-a powerful attraction to Mr. Elverton-together with a shrewd business capacity that served him well in the accumulation of his princely fortune. Ethel’s uncle alternately petted and scolded her, until in sheer desperation she yielded to his wishes, and became the wife of Edward Gerry whom he had selected for her, The love she had felt for i. kine she buried deep down in her heart, so deep it could never bo resurrected, she thought; and he, after learning that she was about to many another man, had left that part of the country. There had been no declaration of his love to Ethel W il 11 J the man . *> vl Ers. veil Edward Gerry loved his young and beautiful wife as much, perhaps, as such natures as liis are capable of lov ing ; but his life was absorbed by his business, and so engrossing wns it that ho saw comparatively little of hor, and their princoly homo was to hor literally a cage with gilded bars. She had no desire to go into Society, and strovo to fill that void in hor heart that should have been occupied by a husband’s love with literary pursuits. As time passed on an insatiable greed for gold seemed to take possession of Edward Gerry, and oven the two lovoly children that wore sent to cheer their monotonous lives failed to stir tho turbid depths of his sordid nature; but with the young wife and mothor it was different—something to love and live for; and lifo seemed henceforth more endurable. Five years of wedded life with Ed ward Gorry—weary years, too, and thon ho wns removed by death ; and Ethel did not affect a grief sho could not foel for tho stern, cold-hearted man. Sho wont back to her uncle, who was growing more feeble and cnpricious than over. When her husband’s affairs were settled, it was found that ho had been speculating largely in stocks, and- of his immonso fortune tliero remained literally nothing; still Ethel had no pecuniary fears. Hor undo would care for hor and tho children, for tho old man loved tho little onos dearly, and sho had no idea of want. Two years moro; two years that had glidod by peacefully ns a quiet river, and thon came another change in hor life. Just such n change as death with his arbitrary power can make in any of our lives. Mr. Elverton died suddenly and Ethel Gerry mourned sincerely ; for if ho had at times been somewhat exacting, still sho knew he had been to her a kind friend. Sho was not prepared for tho rovola- tions that a settlement of his estate brought to light. Ho too had lost all in some luckless venture, and sho found herself alone and penniless with two little children to be clothed and fed. Out of tho furniture given her by her uncle sho saved enough of tho plainest to furnish two rooms comfortably on a back street in tlio city suburbs. Tho remainder she sold at an immonso sac rifice, but it brought hor a little ready money, which would last, sho hoped, until she found some employment. Sho was highly educated, and might have taught, but sho could not leave tho children. Sho kept her piano, hoping to obtain music scholars ; she adver tised ; sho went out and applied at nu merous places, but she was invariably asked for references and recommenda tions, which it was impossible to give, till at last she gave it up and tried to obtain fine sewing. Of this she found a limited supply, but the remuneration was a mere pittance. In tho meantime expenses went on and daily her little hoard of money dwindled away, till finally she was com pelled to sacrifice her costly piano, her landlady considerately offering to take it in payment for the rent of the next three months. Ethel redoubled her exertions, but a pain in her side and a hacking cough made it evident that sewing must be relinquished. There remained still a dernier resort —her pen. She had in her girlish days dashed off occasionally a bright little sketch for some magazine or weekly, which had been favorably received. Just for the fun of the thing then, but now it would be in sober earnost. She set herself to work and wrote a charming little story that was sent to the publisher of a journal, who was suf ficiently impressed by its merits to send her three dollars with tho hope that ho should hear from her again. Her little venture a success ! Why sho was on the high road to fortune! True, three dollars would not go very far; but sho would write another and yet another. And the night after re ceiving tho money she retired, but not to sleep, and laid tho plots of a half- dozen different sketches, which at three dollars each would pay her month’s rent besides buying a half ton of coal. The morning came at last—a dull, lead-colored day in March, with a piercing east wind and a monotonous drizzle of rain against the window. Never mind; she could write. Her head was not very clear, and the vari ous plots of the night had resolved themselves into a chaotic mass; but a cup of coffee would olear up her con fused brain. After breakfast, devising some new amusement for keeping tbe children quiet, she began to write. Strange I but her pen seemed to drag itself along, and the thoughts that seemed so brilliant in the darkness were dull ami commonplace. Sho wroto and re-wrote. Page after pago wns tossed aside, and sho rose to prepare dinner"with hor bond dizzy and throbbing with pain, feeling discour aged and realizing faintly that author ship wjs not merely a pastimo but that there was work in it. Still she would not givo up, but spent tlio whole afternoon in hor un successful attempt, and retired that night seeing things dressed in sober gray instead of rose color. These two days were a fair sample of the next six months, and no doubt many authors havo a similnr experience. The second skotcli sho wroto was re turned as lacking incident and plot. “What wo want,” wroto tho pub lisher, “is a sonsationnl love story of pure tone.” Ethel Gerry wroto another—highly emotional and tragic in its conclusion, and this was doclinod hccauso tho character of an outcast—an unfortunate figured in its pages. True to lifo and love, but it shooked tho publisher’s idoa of propriety. Toor Ethel was in dismay. Who had reckoned on tlio proceeds of this story to buy food for tho onsuing week, and sho had no other resource. In hor groat need she sent it off to tho publislior of nn oxtremoly sensa tional paper, and received a little note of approval with a crisp flve-dollar bill. Occasionally sho sent an article to some other journal, hut it was oftener returned than otherwise, as not avail able, with a courteous little regret, and sho was most successful with the pub lisher who accepted hor first story. Her stylo was good—a pure, moral tone pervading hor writing, logothor with n fascinating originality that gave popularity to anything coming from her poti. During tho summer tho publisher on gagod hor to writo a serial for his maga zine. and so much time had been given to it that hor monoy was nearly gono. Almost unconsciously slio had wrought into tho web cf tho story inci dents of her own lifo as tho woof; and feeling Intensely, sho had given to it a pathos that added unusual interest to its delineations. Sho worked patiently, and when it was finished sent it off; and, completely prostrated, mentally and physically, found herself incapable of oxortion. Sho had, in reality, been living over her own past, and though it was in tho tho long-ago reminiscences of thoes happy days had crowded up with such intense vividness that it had exhausted tlio last remnant of strength. A week musFelapse before she could hope to hear from hor serial. Even then it might prove a failure. What would beoomo of them if it should ? Puzzling her weary brain over this unsettled problem as she was reclining upon tho lounge in tho afternoon, the carrier’s well-known stop was heard, and a moment later Bessie ran in with a letter for mamma. Mrs. Gerry recognized the publisher’s handwriting, and grew faint with appre hension. A rejected manusoript, doubt less; and sho tore open the wrapper with nervous haste. It had boen only two days since sho sent it away. A little note, more brief than she had over receivod, from him, and publish ers are renowned for their brevity, dated that morning: “Deab Madam: Shall come out to P on the five express, on business regarding the serial. “ Truly yours, - “ R. E. GnAHAM.” “What can it mean?” and Mrs. Gerry made an effort to rise, but was so faint and dizzy she sank back hopelessly among the cushions, and gave a glance about tho disordered room. Only an hour before the five train was due. “Children, pick up your playthings,’ she said, wearily. “ The publisher is coming, and will bo bore soon.” “Mamma, tho man you wrote the Tories for?” interrogated little Bess, tugging away with might and main to right up a huge chair that had been her carriage all tho afternoon. “Yes, darling, and you must be very good,” tho mother said. “ I will if lie brings you some money to buy me some shoes that ain’t weared out,” Bessie answered, with shocking disregard to the rulos of grammar; and a little later, when a gentleman was seen coming up the walk, Bessie bounded down to meet bim, with the question: “Is you tho man mamma writes Tories for?” “I believe I am,” ho responded, and, in token of hor fellowship for him, she slipped her chubby little hand into his, and escorted him straight to the sitting- room without a word of warning; while, as the door opened, Ethel Gerry looked up to behold a face she had not seen for ten long years. She did not faint, though she grew Yery pale as Mr. Graham came forward, and taking both her handB in his warm clasp, looked down into the pale, care worn face with all of the old-time ten- ilern si in his dark, expressivo eyes. “ Ethel Wilbur ! can it be possible ?’ he said, as, sitting down by hor side he took Bessie upon his knee, with one arm encircling Irma, whilo ono of Mrs. Gerry’s hands was still retained in his own, a willing prisonor. Mutual explanations followed. Robert Graham had never known tho name of Ethel’s husband. Ho had never Buspoctod that it was tho woman whom ho once loved who was writing such delicious little sketches for his journal and magazine, until ho received the serial, containing so mnoh of hor own lifo that ho could not bo mistakofi. Ethel Gorry could not understand how Robert Erskine and Robert Graham woro ono. An uncle in Scotland had bequeathed to him his immense fortune on condition of his assuming his name-this ac counted for it; and bo, ono after another, tho mysteries enveloping the past years woro unraveled. Somehow tho business regarding the serial had not boon reached when it was timo for the publisher to return to tho city, and little Bessie, seeing no monoy fortcoming, ventured to ask if ho wasn’t going to pay mamma for that “Tory?” That serial was the last ono ovor writ ten by Ethel Gorry, for sho soon became tho wife of Robert E. Graham, tho pub lisher, and in gaining tho loro of a noble-hearted man, gladly relinquished forovor hor prospect of litorary farao, contented to shine as tho bright guid ing star of tho publisher’s quiet homo. tOMEXTO VS MATTERS. The census of 1881 in England re veals the startling fact thnt a decrease in tho population of rural parishes in tho west of the country is going on with a rapidity which threatens almost entire depopulation. Towns aro becoming vil lages and villages hamlets, whilo ham lets aro passing out of existence. The number of artesian wells in Now York city steadily and rapidly increases, something like forty having been sunk during tho past yoar. Their depths rango from 200 to 2,000 feet, and tho flow ranges from 1,000 to 2,000 barrels a dny. These wells aro used mainly by brewers and other largo manufacturers who require a large amount of water, and who find tho artesian well water economical both from its cheapness and its coolness, which enables thorn to dis pense with much ice. Usually tho wells aro vortical. In one instanco sovon holes wore drilled in different directions and at different angles, only ono being vertical. Tho boring was carried to a depth of about 200 feet on the average, the longost at an anglo being 457 foot doep. Water was struck in all the bor ings, and an abundant supply has been obtained continuously. How Cuttle are Killed for Xew York Market. In the city of Now York there are two largo abattoirs or slafighter-housos. On tho oast side of the city tliero is a col lection of sovoral of those establish ments, which occupy the blooks bound ed by East Eorty-thirl street, First avenue, East Forty-sixth street, and tho river front. The total nurabor of beef cattle slaughtered here last yoar amounted to about 100,000 head. At tho foot of West Fortieth stroot is what is called tho West Side Abattoir, which is tho largest establishment of tho kind in the city. Its dimensions are 125 feot in length on Fortieth street, and 300 foot on Thirty-ninth street, with a uniform depth of 200 foot. Tho annual kill of beef cattle hero is 2,200 head per week, or about 115,000 year. At Jersey City, across the river from Now York, is situated another large cs- tablishmontol his kind. It is not only a slaughter-house, but tho receiving point for the greater portion of the cattle coming into Now York. It is very favorably situated, being not more than a mile by water from any of tho European steamship wharves, andcattlo for export can bo shipped by boat from the abattoir direct to tho sido of tho vessel. For this reason it is tho principal place from which the livo stock export traffic is done. Tho stock yard covers several acres, and is divided into largo pens, partly roofed ovor, with water troughs and hay racks running nlong the sides. They afford accommodation for about 3,000 cattle, and tho charge per head for each animal entering the yard, no matter how long or short may bo the period of its stay, is forty cents. During tho timo they are kept in tho yard tlioy aro fed ot the owner’s expense. Tho slaughter-house proper is a building 250 feet front by 300 deep, but with tlio offices and other additions tho buildings cover an area of 270 by 390 feet. The cattle coming into Now York avorage from 700 pounds to 800 pounds in weight, and at ton cents per pound, about the usual figure, bring 870 to 880 eaoli on the hoof. The method of kill ing is essentially tho same In all the New York slaughter-houses. A rope is fastened around tho animal’s hind legs, and ho is lifted off his feet by means of a block and tackle, so that he hang with his head downward, and jjist touch ing tho floor. His throat is then cut with a large, sharp knife, and his death is speedy and comparatively free from pain. Three workmeu, a dresser and two assistants, can kill, flay, cut lip and dress an animal in about twenty minutes, and they slaughter eighteen to twenty head daily, for which they get fifty-nine cents per head. After the slaughtering for the day is at an end all tho buildings are flushed out with water pumped from the river by steam, and then carefully mopped over, so that no sign of refuse of any kind is perceptible—in fact, the floors, which are laid with an incline from the sides to a gutter in the middle of the houses, are as clean and white as the decks of a ship after they have been holystoned.—Shoe and Leather Reporter. Tho troubles of tho unfortunate and persecuted Count, Yon Aruim, the Gor- man diplomatist, are ended at last. His death is announced at Nieo, France. At tlio conclusion of tho Franco-Pmssinn war in 1870-1, ho was appointed an am bassador to arrange tho final terms of peace. In that connection ho was accused of having betrayed tho interests of his government, offending his om- peror and insulting Bismarck, for which he was tried by the high court of Ger many, found guilty and sentenced to live years’ oxile. Count Von Arnim was fifty-six years of ago. Ho was a mom- bor of one of tho oldest and most es- toomod families of Prussia. In private lifo ho wns highly thought of, being polished and courtoous, and ranking high in literaiy and philosophical cir cles. Ho wns twice married, his second wife being the sister of one of the richest grandees of tho Ukornnirok, the Count Arnim Boytzonburg. Ho loavos one son, who is a lieutenant in the second Dragoon guards. POPITEAR phrases. Home ol Onr Common IV« I’hrnars OrlElnnted. SB ■ m Tho surgoons of tho marine hospital sorvico aro now confining their examin ations as to color blindness to men de signing to outer the pilot service of the country. All tho pilots of steam vessels in tho United States woro examined last year before their licenses woro granted them. Tho theory thon and now entertained by tho treasury depart ment, under whoso direction thoso ox- miuationn aro made, that colorblind ness was hereditary, promises to change a belief thnt it may also bo acquired. Tho department bnsos its first theory on oxpert testimony. It is asked to change it by experts'. In his address before tho hoard of supervising inspectors of the steamboat inspection service, not long ago, Dr. B. Joy Jeffries, of Boston, said: “ Color blindness, beside boing congenital und hereditary, may ho ac quired. It is a symptom of some dis eases of the brain and tho optic nerve. Men, after any exhausting disease, like typhoid fever, should bo tested before again resuming their duties. The neces sity of poriodio examinations, for in stance, with pilots, as often as they are relicensed, is thus roadily understood. This is quite aside from the necessity of testing their visual power, which moy have decreased from many causes during the preceding yoar. Injuries about the head, such as sailors and rail road employes are particularly subject to, may cause diminished color percep tion. Alcohol and tobacco produce a deterioration of the vision and color sense.” The treasury department has not yet accepted this theory. It con siders steamboat travelers safe, so far as pilots are concerned, when the latter have been proven possessed of perfect color sense by one examination. “Wo gain by other’s failures,” sail the lecturer. And the little man in the snuff-colored suit, who sat in the back row, rose right up to remark: “ Perhaps you do, but blamed if I gain anything by ’em. No less than a dozen’s failed this week, and they stuck me bad, every one.” As the policeman carried him out, he was heard to re mark about boing allowed to pick a fellow up when bo was lying that way. IVomlerM of Rrooin Corn. Broom com is likely at no distant day to revolutionize the breadstuff supply of the world. A process has been discov ered by which the finest and most de licious flour can bo made from the seed to the extent of one-half its weight, and leave tho other half a valuable food for making beef and milk. The average yield per acre is three hundred bushels, and in many instances five hundred bushels, or thirty thousand jiounds, have been secured. Nor does it ex haust the soil as Indian com, from the fact that it feeds from the deeper soil, and assimilates its food from a cruder state. It belongs to tho same genus as the sweet cane, commonly known sorghum, which as an article of food is growing rapidly in public esteem, and from the seed of which a most nutritious flour can be obtained. The sea-urchin has several movable spines. Each spine looks very knowing, and apparently makes its own little ex cursions without regard to what the other spines are doing. In large speci mens, where the claws-can be seen round the spines, die effect is very comical. “ Consistency's a jewel.” The origin of this quotation has [been erroneously attributed to Shakespeare. It was originally used in un old Scotch ballad entitled “ Jolly Robin Roughhead.” Tho following is the verso in which the quotation occurs: Tush I tush I My lassie, sueli thoughts resign Comparisons aro cruol; Fine pictures suit in frames as line, Consistoncio's a Jewel, For tlioc anil me coarse clothes aro best, Ibulo folks in homely raiment ilrcst, Wife Joan and gooclman Robins. ** Whom llio gods would destroy they first mnko mad." A very ancient Greek proverb. It occurs in a note on a frag ment of Euripides, but is probably of much oarlior date than the Attic dramatist. It is of^pn mot with trans lated into Latin, and may be found among tbe classic quotations in Web ster’s dictionary. In confirmation of ts groat antiquity, it may bo observed that the passage, both Latin and Greek, reads not gods, but God or Jupiter, re ferring it, perhaps, to the period of a purer worship, when the Egyptian gos in cnlcatod doctrine of the Divine Unity, and the Athenians raised altars to tho unknown God. " Bankrupt.”—Few words havo so rej markablo a history as this. The money changers ofItalyhad, it is said, benches or stalls in the Bourse or exchange in former times. At thoso they condnoted their ordinary business. When any of them fell book iu tlio world and became insolvent liis bonoh was broken, and the name broken bonob, or bdnko rotto was given to him. Wlion the word was first adopted into English it was nearer tho Italian namo than it now is, being Imnkarout instead of bankrupt. " Bust.”—This word Visoonti traces to tho place r.J Bnstum, for burning dead bodies, which was soon transferred to tho numberless images there set up. “Blackmail.”—Ii ancient times the faimers of the north of England and the south of Sootlnnd were compelled o pay a certain rate of money, com cattle or other things to certain men who were allied to the robbers, to be by thorn protected from pillage, whioh was called blackmail. “ Black” denot ed tho low coin in which it was paid ; or, in tho moral sonso, tho illegality of the payment. Rent roceived in silver, and for a legal purpose, was called white money and white rent. In the United .States this word lias come into general use ns a term applied to per sons who oxtort monoy from throats of accusation or exposure of somo alleged offense. “ Uncle Sam.”—The name originated from Samuel Wilson, a beof-inspector at Troy, N. Y., during tho Revolution ary war. Ho was very popular with tho men in his employ, and was always called Uncle Sam. Tho boxes of pro visions woro shipped to a contrnctoi named Elbert Anderson, and were marked “E. A. U. S.” A joking work man was nskod what these letters stood for, to which ho replied he did not know, unloss it was Elbert Ander son and Undo Sam. The joko took, and afterward packages marked U. S. were said to belong to Uncle Sam. « Sclali.”—Derived from the Hebrew word selah, to repose, to bo silent. It is, however, a word of doubtful mean ing, occurring vory frequently in the I’snlms; by some supposed to signify silence or a pause in tho musical per formance of tho song; by others, to indicate special attention to the sub ject. “Dry Wine.”—That in which the sac- „ cliarine matter and fermentation are so exactly balanced that they neutralize each other, and no sweetness is percepti ble. It means opposed to sweet wine, in which the sacohavine matter is . in excess. “ Skedaddle.”—This word may be easily traced to a Greek origin. The Greek verb (rendered in Roman letters) skedannumi, of which the root is skeda, is used freely by Tliucididos, Herodotus and other Greek writers in describing the dispersion of a routed army. From the root skeda the word skedaddle is formed by simply adding the euphoni ous termination “die,” and doubling the d, as required by the analogy of our language in suoh words. An old ver sion of the Irish New Testament con tains the passage: “ For it is written, I will smite the shephard, and the sheep of the flock shall be sqedad ol.” “ Molly Maguire.”—Somo fifty odd years or more ago a poor old woman in Ireland had hor house pulled down over her head by her landlord, Her name was Molly Maguire, and she died of ex posure and grief. Her sons and neigh bors therefore formed themselves into a society, and called it the “ Molly Ma guires,” and vowed and took fierce ven geance upon unoffending, landlords generally. The band increased rapidly, and Irish miners brought the name tc America. v?l He had been telling her stories of himself, and had done a great amount of bragging; whon he had finished she kissed him and murmured, “ This is a kiss for a blow.” ‘I