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the mekcury.
SO ooiul- class matter at tlio Samlers-
F ' llt vUlol’ostofflco, April 27, 1880.
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VOL. II.
SANDERSVILLE, GA., SEPTEMBER 6, 1881.
NO. 23.
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0. H. ROGERS,
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Prompt attention given to all business.
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May 4, 1880.
C. C. BROWN,
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H. N. H0LUFIELD,
I'liysician and. Surgeon,
Sandorsville, Ga.
Ollioe next door to Mrs. Bayne’s millinery
itoro mi Harris Stroot
G. W. H. WHITAKER,
dentist,
SANDERSVILLE, GA
Tunis Cash.
Giico at liis Rosidonco, on Ilarris Stroot.
AJ,ril 3, 1880.
B. D. EVANS,
Attorney at Law,
SANDERSVILLE, GA.
A Pnl 3, lb80.
* ll*urust and Host Mcdicino ever Made.
UrnuV“ , ! i II n i t ^ n H °P®* Buchu, Man-
sl mdI Dandelion, With all tne best anti
i, ',7,„ Y‘ r 1 ' ltl 'u Properties of nil other Hitters,
RecnV l< V ? " llle “ t .P ,ood Purifier, Liver
? e S u I Vvtor, onil t.lfu mill llrultu nJistorluij
A(,ruut ('haBMBBHHiearth.
^ <li--ca.se an possibly long exl«t where Hop
‘ " '■ < are us%ed,so varied and porfect are their
!?' C-2 cow lilfo and vigor to tho aged and infirm.
0%>i»plQyinentscause irr*<?ularl*
l urinary
. "lunu e muipioyim’niscause . , ...
i ).<• bowclaorYurinary organs, or wlio ...
l‘i ! Un A l'Heti7A*i^L Tonic and mild Stimulant,
inva!X.uable, without Into*-
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an ! ' 1 [ t ;; r " r, '“ty™r7^eUni?B or symptoms
1, ., , ' " ,l1 ' ruse nr uilWroont Is use llop Illt-
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H., ... l, r luistrablo.Rusotlloru at once.
Rr rj‘' u '°y° ur lift..It husk* a veil hundreds.
^ Oj JO ' .llbc paid foracalso they will not
% j ,. ' P* 1,0 not eulTer % orl '*t your friends
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(l-.'j Ilo P Hitters Is no^k Vllo, drugged
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atilt ; "io “invalids^, rounv
-houKi l.e'wlthout'them 80,1
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i. uv. ,i i,. j 1 H , Q , ot ophun, tobneco u
ter Cirruiar^ ‘I' , n b 5 It ‘ V
Unmii aml Toronto. Onr
- DICTIONARY.^ /■ft,
listing L H tion WEBSTER, has
4fi'oini ,S ora8 < 3 000 Engravings,
p- ® WORDS and Meanings,
graphical Dictionary
iuiS* ? ver 8700 Names.
T':^ 1 fc-MERRIAM,Springfield,Mus.
_ MILLIONS OP
PLANTS!
( Hbbittfu $2.00 and
Jnbbaffe $2.00 and
f- elery $2.50 per 1000
it,,*' 1 * ''‘ 5 * ou per iuuu
»>y express. Larger
n,,n ntltlr~ — “ r
^ uantiUea at still low-
!.L rat f !8, Send for freo
T°w ai m Address,
't V* ..^oarcss.
The iPoet’s Bride.
" Between tho sunsot and tho sea
A Bhoal of fading glory lies,
And all tho tints of earth and air
In flooring splondor mingled tlu-ro
SurpaBB tho wealth of Tyrian dyes,’
Ho spoko the bard, &b o’or his brow
Tho fluah of sacred rapture swept,
And clapped tho hand of hor who by
His side her faithful vigil kept.
Then Bho to liia her gentlo eyes
Raised with a look of sweet surpriso,
And chiding said:
" Talk not to me of tilings that be
Botweon the snnBot and tho Boa.
My eoul to such is eokhand dead.
Not from the purple Appennine,
Not from the steeps of trailing vine,
Or waves, rose tippod and opaline,
Whore Capri bathos her rocky feet
In lambent waters cool and sweet,
Como back such colors to aninzo
Tho soul that ilwolls in mortal gszo
As those that on my vision flash,
Dear Charley, from thy dyod mustache.”
—Stanley Huntley, in llrooklyn Eayle.
A SPANISH HEROINE.
Poverty is certainly a blessing in one
respect, at least, inasmuch as a fool
withont money lias fower opportunities
for manifesting liis follies than the
wealthier animal of the same species. It
would have been n piece of good fortune
if Gooffroy Kendall had been born to
work for his living like many a better
man, sinco it is to be presumed that
hardship would have rubbed a littlo
common souse into his soft brain. As
it was, his father left him a largo for
tune, and the ubo he mode of it wns
something between a jokoand a tragedy,
lie was tho legitimate prey of all sorts
of sharpers. Hs got himself into terri
ble scrapes and had to buy himself out
of them at enormous cost. Without
any real wrong he acquired for himself
an unenviable reputation among the
scandalmongers of the town.
Ho was a vigorous young fellow, with
a big beard, mild eyes, and hands as
white as a woman’s. Ho was, moreovor,
something of a dandy in his dross and
manners. Yet, withal, a kinder, better-
tempered soul you would not find in a
day’s walk.
What such a woman ns Alma Thorpe
could havo found in him to love is a
mystery, unless, indeed, it was on tho
principle of woman’s tenderness for
children, birds and other weaklings
She was quite his opposite—a quiet
sober littlo woman, strong-willed and
quick-witted, with a wonderful fund o
pationco for hor blundoring lovor. She
seemed to have no object, no hope or
ambition aside from his happiness.
Yet, liko the fool that he was, tho time
came when he flung away this jewel for
a piece of glittering sham. Luckily, he
was made to pay dearly for his folly.
Kend ill and Alma had been engaged
for nearly a year, and their marriage
was to take place shortly, when a lady
appearod on tho scene, who created u
sensation in tho town. She called her
self Donna Sanchica, ani was accom
panied by her brother, Don Marco
Damas. They were supposed to be
Spaniards of distinction making a tour
for pleasure. Donna Sanchica was a
woman of thirty, large and luxuriant
figure, with coal-black hair and eyes of
the same hue, as bold anil keen as a
hawk’s. She was not long in working
horse If into tho best circles, where she
speedily became a great favorite. At
the social gatherings her mellow voice
and charming manners made her scores
of friends and admirers. It was ob
served by the wiser ones, however, that
she devoted herself to the younger and
wealthier men.
“ I have one passion stupendous for
the American gentlemen,” she admitted,
with engaging frankness; "he is so
brave, so superb, Santissima!”
It was at one of these gatherings that
Kendall met her. She seemed to pene
trate his character at a glance, and
turned the batteries of her big black
eyes full upon his weak head. It was
simply & foregonej conclusion. Like
any other moth he flew to the brightest
candle. She charmed, astonished, be
wildered him. He had never seen suoh
a brilliant woman—so brilliant, so un
conventional. Moreover, she admired
him. He could see that, and his vanity
gave a great throb of delight. That
night when he went home I fear that it
was of the superb Spanish beauty that
he dreamed, and not of the pale little
American girl.
Without intending any treachery to
his betrothed, he spent a good deal of
his time with Donna Sanchica after that.
He had a right to admire her, he said.
She was his friend, his dear friend, that
was all. So day after day he visited her,
and came gradually to neglect Alma.
The townspeople began to talk. Rumor
said that young Kendall and the Span
ish lady were engaged to be married.
Some envied him, while others, more
sensible, pitied Alma, and cursed Ken
dall’s blindness and stupidity.
As yet Alma had said nothing to Ken
dall upon the subject, though it had not
escaped her. But she patiently sought
to keep him true to his faith by the
thousand sweet devises of a loving
woman. .
At length even her patience gave out.
One day, after a week’s absence, Ken
dall found a few moments to spare from
his Spanish infatuation to call upon his
betrothed. He met her with a sheepish
and embarrassed air, as if some con
sciousness of his own meat} unruanli-
ncss were troubling him. He bent to
kiss her, as usual, but sho stopped hack
and confronted him firmly, yet with a
white face and trembling lip,
“ All that is over between us, Geof
frey,” she said, quietly. " This pre
tense is folly for you and pain for me—
there must be an ond of it.”
The tone sho spoke in stnrtled him;
he looked at her in alarm,
“ I know I have treated you shal>»
Lily,” ho replied, depreoatingly. "I
ought to have been here more, I know—”
“Stop!” exclaimed Alma, interrupt
ing him. "You ought to havo done
nothing which your heart did not im-
pol you to. I should scorn to hold you
to me by my sense of duty. Now that
I havo lost your love, I givo you back
your word. Go your way and let me
go mine."
" Donna Sanchica is only a friend,"
he attempted to explain. " Why should
you bo angry becauBO she admires me?”
“ I am not angry with anything which
lias passed between you and tlm
womun,” slio answered, with a touch of
irritation. " Neither is sho your friend.
A woman can see deeper into tho soul
of one of her own sex than a man. I
see that hers is bluok and evil; I see
that she does not lovo you, however
skillful sho affects it. She will ruin your
happiness and embitter your wholo life.
Oli, my poor Geoffrey, can you not foo
where sho is lending you?”
" You wrong her," answered Geoffrey,
taking refugo from his own conscience
in a pretense of anger. " Sho is a noble
woman and you"aro jonlous of her."
Sho turned nnd looked at him silontJy,
with an expression of contempt; then,
without a word, she walked quietly out
of tho room. But when alone she burst
into toars, aud wept long and bitterly
over her soro heart and broken hopes.
As for Geoffrey Kendall, he stood for
a moment bewildered with conflicting
remorse, shame and repentance, liopiug
that sho would return. But sho did
not, and in a very miserable framo of
mind he left tho house and sought the
company of Donmi Sanchica.
"Ah 1” cried tho estimablo lady, run-
ning to meot him with both hands ex
tended, " you havo returned, my friend.
Bohold mo happy, independent. But
what has happened, souor ? Your face
is chalk and lias agony into it.”
"I am vory unhappy,” responded
Kendall. “ I have been ill-treated.”
" So 1” cried the lady, striking a dra
matic attitude and grinding her white
teeth. “Who has insultod my friend?
Toll me his name and I’ll havo his
heart’s blood! Carai!”
"No matter,” said Kendall, with a
vague perception of something false
and grotesque in all this extravagance ;
" It’s nil ovor, and I come to you for
comfort.”
"Ah!” said tho donna, suddenly
abandoning her fierce air for a languish
ing one. " It is sweet for to have tho
opportunity for to comfort my dear
friend. Ah, Diosl would I not dio for
you ?”
"I believe you would," said poor
Kendall, looking into her dark eyes,
where he fancied he saw unutterable
things. “ Here is a woman who loves
me," he thought. “ Alma has discarded
me—why not secure the liappinoss in
my power ?” So on the impulse of the
moment he spoke.
"Donna Sanchica.” said he, “I love
you. Will you bo my wife ?”
To have witnessed the woman’s face
at that moment would have been a treat
to a cynic. She looked modestly down.
She managed to get a blush to her yel
low cheek ; her bosom heaved rapidly,
and a tremendous sigh escaped it. Yet
all the while the traces of a malignant
smile of triumph rested upon her lips
At last she looked up with some
skillfully evoked tears in hor eyes.
“ No, senor,” sho replied, “ I cannot.
Oh, the heavens I what agony for me to
say it!”
“Why not?” cried Kendall, aghast.
« Do you not love me ?”
"Ah, idol,” she cried, "as my own
soul! Ah, misery ! But let me con
fess. We are poor, senor—my brother
and I. We are exiles from our own
country. Because we are noble and
poor we cannot live among our equals.
We have great pride. We leave our
home and wander like the Arab.”
“ What difference does that make ?”
said Kendall, in a generous glow. “ I
have enough for both.”
" But my poor brother ?” cunningly
interposed the donna.
" And for him a.i well,” answered
Kendall. “ Will he not be my brother,
too ?”
“Santissima?” screeched the lady,
fliDging her robust person against him
with such force that he reeled against
the wall. “ What noble! What superb!
I adore you I Yes—yes, I will be your
wife, and my brother shall be your
brother, eh ?’’
" Of course,” assented Kendall.
And so the matter was settled.
Things took their natural course. The
poor but noble Don Oanais was to take
Kendall into his favor, and, being given
to the utterances of the highest senti
ments, soon won tho young man’s por
fect confidence.
Thore woro times -when Kendall’s
heart misgave him, when even his dull
perceptions were troubled with a vague
distrust. At theso times Douun San-
chica’s passionate protestations sickened
him and the brother's pompous airs
maddened him. At suoh times the
memory of tho days when Alma’s love
was all to him would smite him with a
miserable heartache. He would com
pare her sweejj jure presence with tho
lurid and unhealthy influence of tho
Spanish woman and wonder at his own
blindness.
But Donna Sanchica was a diplomat.
She knew how to deal with his dark
moods so as to profit by them. At suoh
moments she would look at him re
proachfully and sigh as if her heart
were broken. Then Kendall would
melt, and cursing himself for a hard
hearted villain, submit more abjectly
to her blan Bailments than ever.
They were soon to be married, nnd as
tho donDn claimed his whole timo, it
came about naturally that the solemn
don, her brother, consented to take
charge of Kendall’s affairs. He devel
oped so keon n talent for business that
in a vory short time tho young man’s
property quietly changed bauds. Of
course, being all in the family, it mado
little real difference in whose name the
money was held.
But one morning Kendall called at
tho residence of the Spaniards and
found them gone. A letter in tho
handwriting of the donna was given to
him by the housekeeper. It ran as fol
lows:
Farowell, most obligin j of men 1
all
Business engugomentss call us else
where. Horry that you havo been dis
appointed. We have leave our most
distinguish regard in place of the
money what we have taken. How say
you—tho fair oxchango is not tho rob-
bory? Santissima! no. Wo have the
pride ond the honor. Ahal Also my
husband, Don Oanais, have remark thill,
i is tho just payment of you to him for
tho long privilego of making mo, his
wife, tho love. Is it not so? Your do-
voted Sanchica.
Kendall road tho letter in a state o!
stupefaction; then quietly toro it to
pieces and went away with his head
hooping and a deep frown upon liis
face. The smallest ^examination into
his affairs showod how egrogriously he
had been duped. Of all his patrimony
not enough had escaped the dutches of
tho adventuress and tho husband to af
ford him a decent subsistence. In spite
of his overwhelming shame and anger
there wns a feeling of intense relief in
liis* heart. Ho had imagined that ho
loved tho Spanish woman, lint now he
felt that it would havo been a sacriflec-
could he havo married her. He was
really quite satisfied to pay even so high
a price as financial ruin to have es
caped it.
His resolution was speedily taken.
Ho wrote a long letter to Alma explain
ing everything, but offering no excuse
and asking for no hope. He then loft
town silently. For two years he was not
heard of. At the end of that time he
returned, a grave and thoughtful man,
with lines of sorrow nnd hardship in his
face. Misfortune had come late, but it
made a man of him at last.
Ho had not yet called upon Alma,
when he met her in the street one day.
He made no attempt to avoid her, but
took her hand quietly.
“ Alma,” said he, " I havo come back
solely for the pnrposo of seeing your
face and taking new courage from it bo-
fore I go out in the world again.”
“ Are you going away ?” she asked
with a faint shadow upon her face.
“ Yes,” said ho. “ My repentance is
not yot worked out. I have repaired
the ruin caused by folly, but I have not
suffered enough for my treachery to
you. Thore is a WQrthy and admirable
life before me. I must attain it."
“ Gan you do it alone ?” she queried,
with sweet gravity. " Do you need
help ?”
" None could help me but you,” he
replied, tremulously, "and I have
sinned too grievously against you for
forgiveness. I need it—oh, how sorely 1
Not once in all these months have you
been absent from my mind. I have
labored with your image at my heart, to
be worthy of your pardon and approba
tion, but I fear it wai a hopeless task.”
" I am the best judge of that, Geof
frey,” she replied.
There must have been something in
her downcast face of a deeper import
than her words, for his face suddenly
brightened and he took her by the
waist. ,
" It is true, then, Alma ! I am for
given ?”
Of course he was. And some one
said that, woman like, she loved him all
the dearer because he had so nearly
broken her heart. That may be, but I
advise him! never again to mention in
the hearing of his wife the name of
Donna Sanchica.
Sea-bathing is hardly ever indulged
in by the Russian ladies, on account of
jealousy felt by the nobility against per
mitting any familiarity with the surf.
A Niff Checker-Board,
A writer in a New York paper says:
The 'longshoreman is n confirmed
checker-player. You would not think
it of him. You would hardly believe
his big, strong fingers would go between
tho checkers to move them. And, in
deed, they would not on any ordinary
checker-board that tho ’longshoreman
plays. One evening when I was about
to start for Albany by boat, I reached
tho pier live minutes too late. Oppo
site one of the big steamship piers I
came across a group of 'longshoremen.
They were gathered about the entrance
to an alleyway that led up to a big ware
house. It was one of those alleys not
meant for the public to traverse, but
only for teams and heavy trucks of the
warehouse. Consequently, it had no
sidewalks, but was paved with great flat
stones, reaching from ono side-wall
to the other. Twonty or thirty ’long
shoremen were standing at the entrance,
lookiug so intently at something in the
alley that they attracted my attention,
aud I stopped, pushed up iuto the
orowd, nnd looked over their shoulders*
In tho alley were more ’longshoremen,
some near the oentor of tho group
stretched out on tho stoues, resting
their heads on their hands ; others were
standing up, aud all loaned forward
watching eagerly tho movements of two
men, also 'longshoremen. It was not a
fight in progress, os I supposed. Tho
two men, their eyes fixed upon the
ground, were apparently laying out a
flower garden in the stoue-paved alley.
They had a dozen red flower-pots, all
empty, some with pieces cracked out,
some whole and sound. There were,
too, pieces of white chinaware in all
imaginable shapes. BRb of broken din
ner-plates, lids of sugar-bowls, cracked
saucers, and one or two bowls. Tho two
in the centor were moving those myste
riously about apparently without any
object. Aftor a minute’s observation I
was surprised to find that tho mon wore
playing checkers. Tho red flower pots
answered tho plaoo of tho blncks. Tho
broken pieces of okinnware were the
whites. As to the board, it was second
only to that used by tho famous king of
Siam, who took live men and horses for
chessmen nnd killed them off ns fast as
they were taken. It was one of tho big,
lint paving stones, about six feet long by
eight feet broad. Some 'longshoreman,
with a straight edge and a cold chisel,
had marked off with great nicety the
Hixty-fonr squares, and with his chisel
hud traced tho lines in the stono, mark
ing a checker-board in tho solid rocks
that driving over could not injure nor
time efface. It was tho largest checker
board I ever saw, and by all means tho
heaviest and most endurable. Nobody
could try to play that hoard off for a
history of Greece. If it was a history
of anything it was a history of America;
for in what land havo workmen along
tho docks brains enough to take interest
in a game of checkers? Tho altomato
squares were painted black, and the
players made their moves with great de
liberation, pushing tho pieces about,
sometimes with their hands, sometimes
witli their feet, for thoy were standing
up. While tho game continued the
spectators were freo with expression of
approval of a good play, and equally
free in expressing their disgust when a
bad move was mado. When one of the
flower-pots reached his antagonist’s
" king row,” he was crowned by having
another flower pot stood inside him. It
was difficult to make two pieces of tho
broken white china stand together to
make a king, but the players managed
it somehow. The 'longshoremen played
as good a game of checkers as is often
played on more pretentions boards.
They camo down at last to the point
where the whites had three kings left
and the reds had two. The player of
ho whites went successfully through
tho maneuver well known to checker
players of getting tho two reds separa
ted, driving ono of them into the "cross
corners,” making an exchange, so that
there were two white kings on the board
and only one red; then of driving the
rod into the opposite corners and pen
ning him up, so that he had not a move
left without being taken.
Indian Bobbers.
The delicious coolness of the night
has succeeded the fierce heat of a day
in May. The moonlight makes a mimic
day, but how soft is its light, however
bright, compared with the sunlight of a
few hours bfefore ! A party of travelers,
having cooked and eaten their frugal
evening meal, have now spread their
carpets and quilts on the ground in the
mango grovo and laid themselves down
to sleep. All is now silent save when
the jackals rend the air with their hor
rid cries. A jackal gives a yelp on one
side of the grove; another answers with
a howl from the other side. These are
not jackals, but confederate thieves,
one of whom enters the grove at he
end furthest from where the sleeping
travelers lie. On his stomach he steals
quietly along from qne tree to another.
Some leaves rustle; a traveler calls out
whereupon the stealthy one ooils him
self into a heap and lies dead still, and
will so lie for half an hour or more, if
necessary. A “ jackal ” howls near the
grove, as if it had just crossed it and
rustled the loavos. The thief drags
himself along the ground again. At
length ho has reached the head of
the sleeping tow of travelers, Ho
passes his bond quietly under the pil
lows. This fat’ mon is tho rioh man of
tho party; that bundle which ho uses as
a pillow probably contains something
valuable. Tho dusky thief removes it
gently withont waking tho snoring
sleeper. He next mnkos this othpr man
turn over on, liis pillow by gentle
touches on the faco, and, having got
what he wanted, oreeps gently away.
One of the extemporized jackals gives a
bark hero, the other a short howl there,
and the two thieves meet aud decamp
together. When out for the night tho
thieves strip themselves of all their
olothing exoopt a short, tight loin
cloth, and smear themselves with oil,
so as to be able to slip out of the grasp
of any one seizing them. They seldom
carry armB, in an ordinary senRO. lmt
strap a couple of light spear-hoads to
each forearm, with tho points project
ing beyond the elbows, with a backward
stroke of wliioli they can give a sovore,
if not deadly, wound to any ono trying
to soizo them. Generally, bowover, they
carry u binall sharp knife. The houses
of many of oven tho woll-to-do natlvos
havo mud walls only, through which
the thieves dig a hole to effect an on-
try. This requires long, quiet aud
patient work. A grout number of the
Indian stories about robbers turn on
this mode of proceeding—how ono
woman, alone in tho houso with hor
children, waited quietly until tho thief
put his head in through tho hole, and
killed him with a blow of an ax; how
another waited with a ropo in her hand,
and, the thief this time putting his
heels in first, she tied his ankles quickly
together and took him prisoner, hut
when the neighbors appoared they
found only a headless trunk.— Cham-
barn’ Journal,
LA DIBS’ OEPAHTMKXT.
Cutting a Boy's Hair.
There is no use in fooling around
about it. ’ When a boy’s hair has be
come long aud bleached and scraggy,
and full of burrs nnd feathers, it is
time to cut it, nnd the inevitable must
bo faced. The boy doesn’t want it cut,
of coflrso. No one ever had a speaking
acquaintance with a hoy who though,
the time had nrrived when ho could
part with enough hair to stuff a sofa
pillow. They must be coerced, nnd
kind words and broad promises tie
thrown away. Coercion is tho only
method.
I lot my boys run about so long, and
then, when I get a spare half day, 1
play barber. There is no appeal from
my deoisiou. When I como out flat-
footed I carry my point or dio trying.
" Young man, you can get ready to have
your hair cut.” " Next weok ?’’ " No,
sir—now I” " With a buzz - saw ?”
"Yes, if tho shears won’t do it!”
“Won’t you draw blood?” "I may
have to 1" " If yon won’t out my hair
I’ll bring in ’nnff wood nnd coai to last
all winter, and I won’t ask for a light
wlion I go to bod I” " Gome out bnro
and make ready 1”
I never take any chances on u boy. I
have an old chair bolted to the floor,
and then I bolt tho boy to tho chair. I
fix him so ho can move neither hand nor
foot, put a soft gag in his mouth to pre
vent a neighborhood alarm, and begin
work. The first step toward cutting a
boy’s hair is to put In ten minutes of
hard work with a currycomb. If he
hasn’t been running loose over two or
three years this tool will be found suffi
cient to rake out the snarfs, buttons and
articles before mentioned. A basket is
plaoed behind the chair for them to drop
into, and they can be decorated with
fancy pictures and made to servo as
parlor ornaments. When a boy’s hair is
ready for the shears brace your feet and
shear away. Shear front, back, top and
side without reference to lines or angles
The object is to remove hair. There is
no use of any conversation, not even
when the shears find a piece of iron and
refuse to out it. The boy wouldn’t
know how it got there if you asked him.
He has had his head in closets, cellars,
garrets, barns, fenco corners, barrels,
boxes and all sorts of nooks, and such
extra attachments are no surprise to
him.
No one should be less than half an
hour robbing an average boy of his ca
pillary substance. Any attempt to hurry
the job will result in overlooking a lot
of shingle nails, the missing screw
driver, or something which may damage
his Sunday hat. My average is thirty-
five minutes, and I have only two min
utes left after being able to see that he
has a scalp. It then takes an addi
tional ten minutes to look him over and
identify him as the same boy I began
on. His neek has grown longer, the
size of his ears increased, and the whole
shape of his head is altered. When I
feel sure that it is my boy, and not the
son of some neighbor who has skulked
in on me, I brush him off with an old
broom, crack his head three' or four
times, draw the bolts and remove the
gag, and then hold the door open lor
him to shoot into the baokyard. I am
a loving father on all else, but when I
ent a boy’s hair I’m a stern old Homan
of the first water.—Detroit Free Press.
Chevlata.
Of all the dress stuffs in the market
the oheviots are the favorites of the
season. These come in oheoka, plaida
and stripes of every color, the prevail*
ing tones being dull reds and brown*
with a cross of yellow, nentral grays
with blue and invisible green and nega
tive reddish-purple shades. Some are
rather large in the square or stripe*
and perhaps a trifle lond, but the ever-
ago run in warm combinations of color,
which, by giving the effect of a single
tone, lend an air of simplicity at a dis
tance. Oheviots are never combined
with other materials. A certain rigid
air is maintained in these costumes by
tho avoidance of bouffant draperies inH
the overdress and a strict adherence to
the Amazon out in the basque—a se
verity which is favored, and well suited
to this fabric. It is not becoming to
tho face, und is a bard material for un
skilled hands to manage, besides being
somewhat heavy for midsummer wear;
but the English rules which govern so
many of onr toilets at present have or
dained its use and may not be dis
obeyed.—liazar.
\<m% Tor Women.
A New York physician of extensive
practice lias boon effecting many onrea
of his lady patients complaining of lame
backs by proscribing slippers and woolen
stockings for a week, to be followed by
wearing low, brood heels to their shoes,
in place of the high French heels that
had caused their ailments.
A Buffalo girl wore a 8150 pair of hoaa
to get married in.
One stock raiser of Texas oxpeots to
send 20,000 bond of cattle to market
this year.
Mrs. Howe, tho mother of a the wife of
tho late Vice-President Henry Wilson,
is living at tho old homestead at the
age of ninety-four.
The majority of the girls married in
Warren county, Ky., last year were
more children, their ages running from
thirteen to eighteen.
Fnsliian Notes.
Red is the prevailing color in fall
goods. 4
Low coiffures and close hair-dressing
are in fashion.
Women with long, stick-like arms
should not wear tight long sleeves.
Small broken oheoked suitings and
plaids will be worn.
In England mourning is worn only
one year for the nearest relatives and
crape but six months.
Plaid, striped and shaded goods will
bo combined with plain or self-oolored
fabrics in tho composition of the fall
tlressos.
Heavy satin in rich shades of color,
with stripes of long pile plush or che
nille, will bo used for the most expen
sive dress accessories.
Muslin dresses with ombroidered
flounces reaching from belt to hem, and
kerchiefs embroidered to match, are
pretty for the country or for watering-
places.
The latest tablecloths are of fine
linen momio cloth with fringed edge*,
and sham openwork six inches above
the fringe. Some intended for lnnoh-
eon cloths have color introduced in the
open work and in the fringe.
Tho latest novelties in stockings show
shaded (ombre) effects; for instance, a
shaded stocking has a toe of the moat
delioate shell pink tint, shading gradu
ally to doep crimson ou the calf of the
eg, and again to shell pink at the top,
where it is sometimes finished with a
lace frill.
A Case of Applied Theology.
At a meeting of the Woburn confer
ence, Farmer Allen, of Wakefield,
Mass., related the following anecdote:
On Sunday morning, while a certain
deacon was preparing for ohuroh, a wan
dering wayfarer, or, in modern parlance*
a tramp, appeared at his door, pleaded
his hunger and begged for something to
eat. The deacon looked solemn and
frowning, but reluctantly got a loaf of
bread and began to cut it, but while
doing so took occasion to admonish the
beggar concerning the error of nis
ways. After reminding him that it was
the holy Sabbath which he was dese-
crating, he asked him if he knew how
to pray. “ No," was the reply. " Then,"
said the deacon, “I’ll teach you,” and
he commenced to repeat the Lord's
Prayer.
But just as he uttered the first words,
“Our Father,” the beggar interruptep
him with the question: "What! is He
your father and mine too ?”
“ Yes,” the deacon replied.
" Why," exclaimed the beggar, " we
are brothers, then, ain’t we? Can’t yon
cut that slice a little thicker?"
" Well, sir,” said Mr. Wattles, "there
is a tame bear in Fonrlegs’ circus that
will eat off your hand.” And old Hard-
pan said that was nothing, one time in
the mountains there was a rough un
trained bear came down one night aud
ate off his partner’s leg.