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the mekcury. SO ooiul- class matter at tlio Samlers- F ' llt vUlol’ostofflco, April 27, 1880. SamlcrsTillo, Washington Comity, Ga. nTBUSBKD m A . J. JERNIGAN, Pbofmoto* and Publish**., THE THE MERCURY. A. J. JERNIGAN, PnopRnrroR. DEVOTED TO LITERATURE, AGRICULTURE AND GENERAL INTELLIGENCE. •1.80 PER ANNUM. PUBLISHED EVERY TUESDAY. v — IB NOTICE. arAll oommnnloktlons Intended for this pa per must be aocompanied with the ftxll name oj gnbacrlptlon. .11.50 per Tsar. VOL. II. SANDERSVILLE, GA., SEPTEMBER 6, 1881. NO. 23. the writer, not necessarily for publication, but as a guarantee of good ftaitfa. We are in no way responsible for the indoions of correspondents. Watches, Clocks AND JEWELRY nEPAlKED BY JERNIGAN BUY YOUR Spectacles, Spectacles FROM JERNIGAN. Sono gonuino without our Trade Mink. On hand and for sale, Spectacles, Hose Glasses, Etc ausic! Music -go TO- .JERNIGAN BOWS, STRINGS, KOSIIV BOXES, &;c Machine Needles Oil and Shuttles con ALL KINDS OF MACIIINES, for gale 1 will also order parte of Machines that got broken, for which now piccca arc wanted. A. .T. JERNIGAN E. A. SULLIVAN, NOTARY PUBLIC, SANDERSVILLE, GA Hp vinl attention given to tho collection oi claims. Ofllco in tho Court-house. 0. H. ROGERS, Attorney at Law, Bamlorsvillo, G*. Prompt attention given to all business. Oliloo in northwost wing of Court-house. May 4, 1880. C. C. BROWN, Attorney at Law, Sandorsvillo, Ga. Will practice i n tho State and United States courts. Oflico in Court-houao. 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*- •-utinp;, an ! ' 1 [ t ;; r " r, '“ty™r7^eUni?B or symptoms 1, ., , ' " ,l1 ' ruse nr uilWroont Is use llop Illt- '„.iv 11 11,1111 youaWro sick but if you 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 " U: "un«lurun t|,cm\t°um> Hop B (l-.'j Ilo P Hitters Is no^k Vllo, drugged 1 ' u n-'i. b.it the f-ures^^^a n d itest atilt ; "io “invalids^, rounv -houKi l.e'wlthout'them 80,1 G'dn?i'id t Vnnfll^Iil?.f nil , ,rr “<®SHr^ 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.