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A COUNTRY THANKSGIVING. Ay, good man. clo«“ the great-barn door- The mellow harvest time Is o’er! The earth has given her treasures meet Os golden corn and hardened wnaat. .•, You and your neighbors well have-wrought, And of the summer's bounty vangttt; Won from her smiles and from her tears Much goods, perhaps, for many years. You cornea tribute now to puv- The bells proclaim Thanksgiving Day. Well have you sown, well have yoji reaped: And of the riches you have heaped, • You think, perhaps, that you will give A part, that others, too, may live. ’ I But if such argument you use.*.'. , Your niggard bounty 1 refuse. •.. No gifts you on the altar lay In any sense are given away. Lo! rings from Heaven a voice abroad: “Who helps God s poor doth Jk'nd the Lord." What is your wealth? He'd fra're you know To have it, you must let it go. Th'nk you the hand by Heiven struck.cold Will yet have power to clutch Its gold? Shrouds have no pockets, do they say? Behold, I show you then tho.wgy : Wait not till death shall shu|.'h9 door. But send your cargoes on before.’ Lo! he that giveth of his hrtflrd To help God s poor doth lend the Lord. To-day. my brethren—do not wait; Yonder stands Dame Kelly's gate; And would you build a mansion fair . In Heaven, send your lumber there. Each stick that on her wood-pile Iles May raise a dome beyond the skies; You stop the rents within her walls, And yonder rise your marble halls; For every pane that stops the wind There shmeth one with jasper lined. Your wealth is gone, your form lies cold. But in the city paved with gold Your hoard is held in hands Divine; It bears a name that marks it thine. Behold the bargain ye have made; With usury the debt is paid. No moth doth oat, no thieves do steal, No suffering heart doth envy feet >• . 5 Bing out the words: Who-of-hjf hoard Doth help God’s poor doth.lend the Lord! Go get your cargoes under way: The bells ring out Tlmnsglving Day 1 A MEMORABLE THANKSGIVING. Thanksgiving week was always a busy week at the Gates homestead, but it seemed to Dear that it was busier this year titan ever. She couldn’t quite un derstand it, either, for as they wore coming home from church on Sunday she heard her mother say to Aunt Ma rgaret, wiih a little break in her vpice, that she had “no heart for Thanksgiv ing this year.” Dear knew why, and she thought they woijld.havo a sorrow ful thanksgiving. or, perhaps, no Thanksgiving at all. But Tuesday moiling there could be no doubt that they were to have Thanks giving this year, for .there was what Tiptop called a “bonfire” macle in the great brick oven in rifle kitchen, which, since Dear s remembrance, was opened and heated only during Thank.'jgiving week. Tiptop mounted a chair «o that he could see into the'frven, and shouted “Fir®!” and daneedJu, ecstasy till, for getting that ho had only a chair-bottom for a floor, he danced oil', and bruised his nose, and had to. be eumforlpd by Dear jud when she Was so busy seeding raisins. • ” ‘ ’ ° Roundtop and Sqw«*etop counted it a great privilege to Ijriqg in the long sticks of hickory woqd’to heat the oven? each holding an end, t ugg ng it along with great gravity and an owns ona” fall on their toes, and. if they were al lowed to thrust a slice into the oven, their satisfaction was c niplete. Dear paused, in her hurried trips through the kitchen, to look" into the l.lazinw depths and think oUShiidrach. Meshach and Abcdnego. Then they all stood around to sec the coals drawn out and the-ouen swept; and when their mother^l^ii^ing ,1h : v hand far in to test the temperature, «olepinly declared it was ♦|u4t right,” they watched breathlessly while the loaf-ea o and spice-cake andswti'kjps wtw* care fully put in, and breaffie'd a deep sigh of relief when the oven ifobr Closed upon the g >od things committed to its keeping. Wednesday morning the oven was heated again, anifcjifled With mince pies. which came*out so delightfully brown and so delicjoiisly fragrant, that the Gates children grew desperately hungry, and thought • Thanksgiving never would coiye. And then such pumpkinpies, ami apple-pies, and tails, and at last, as the evening drew on. great batches ofTjyown bread and rye bread ami wheat bread 'filled the oven to the door. u- • When the, chicken-pie and turkey were ready for th® oven’ next day. the tired mother drdppTd into the low rocking chair, and taking Tiptop on her inp, looked wearily into the-1 re. “Let me hold Tiptop, mamma,” said Dear, thinking How tired her moth er was; but her inbfher made answer only by holding Tiptop with a closer arm. The children gathered around as the twilight came on, and sitting there, waited for their fat hdr to come. Grad ually silence fell uppn them all. broken only by the subdued roaring of the tire in the stove, and the loud ticking of the clock on the mantbl-shelf. As Dear listened, how vividly came back that sorrowful night when she stood and heard the clock ticking loud er and louder, as Tiny gcntlv breathed her life away; and'it seemed to Dear that she would never again hear the clock ticking in the night without think ing of that scene. She glanced at her mother, and did not wonder that she had no heart for Thanksgiving this year. Indeed, she thought they all had more cause for complaint than thanks giving. ve- Half blinded by thtes, .she started up, and, going to the whitlow, looked out. It was a frosty, starlight night. There was no snow on the ground, but here and there patches of ice were forming over the pools of still water left by the heavy fall rains. “Why don’t papa c ?“ said Tip top, fretfully. 1 “He will come soon,” said Hie j soothingly, and, in obedience to an old ' habit, began absent-mindedly humming Greenville, the one tune she knew, and by whose aid she had year alter year , hummed the Gates babies to sleep “Is papa at the shop?” asked Dear, in the first lull in the humming. “ No; he went down to the cotton mill with a load of bobbins, and he ought to be here by this time.” “May I go a little way and meet him?” asked Dear. “Yes,” —remember ng that Dear had been in the house all day—“ only first light a candle and make the tea. and put more wood in the stove, and bring me Tiptop's night-dress, and untie the boys’ shoes, and wear your hood, and don’t be gone long.” Dear had closed the outside door, ready to start on a run, w hen she heard old Fan's whinny in the direction of the bam. “ Papa has come, and is unhar nessing Fan,” thought she, feeling a little disappointed that she could not meet him and ride home. Instead, she turned to the barn. At the stable door stood old Fan* steaming as if she were having a vapor bath. “Papa had a load home,” thought Dear, as she went up to pat Fan. But what was that she stepped on? A thill? Yes. a broken thilL. still hanging to the harness. Startled, Dear glanced around the yard. The Wagon was not there, and now she saw that only a part of the harness was on the horse, and that was trailing on the ground. Before this in her heart had time to take shape, Dear opened the stable door and let Fan in, and, carefuljy closing the door, ran for the street. The road over the top of the hill lay like three narrow foot-paths, with straight ridges of turf between, and along these narrow paths Dear sped with flying feet, strain ing her eyes to see she dared not think what. At the brow of the hill she paused an 1 looked down. The road wound like a brook down the long hill-side, turning to the right and to the left. With here and there steep pitches and many bars, till it was lost in the dark ness far down toward the valley. As far as her eyes could reach there was nothing unusual to be seen; but at her feet lay a broken harness strap. Up that road Fan had come, and down that road Dear must go. < n and on. over bars and pitches, scarcely touching the ground, loose stones hit by her feet Hying before her, till, suddenly, halfway down the steep est pitch, she came to a place in the road where the stones and the gravel had been plowed up as if by the plung ing of a horse. Here lay the wagon seat. A little farther on lay two or three planks across the road, and at the foot of the steep pitch lay, on its side, a wrecked lumber wagon, which had run backward till it capsize I; and across the steep gutter by the road-side lay a load of plank which had slid from the wagon as it went over. Here was a part of the broken reins belonging to the harness, with the ends under the load of plank. The wagon was her father's, Dear knew that; but where was her father? She stood said looked on either side, up the hill and down into the valley. Nothing moved; there was not even wind enough to bend the tall dead grasses by the road-side, and no sound was to be heard in all the still night but the purling and babbling of the little brooks t hat had gullied deep channels in the water ways on either side of the road. Dear could bear this silence no longer. ‘T’apa, papa, where are you?" and the wild cry went up the hill-side and down into the valley, bringing no an swer. ’'<) papa, papa! what shall I do?” she called again, and as she listened with straining ears, she heard, or thought she heard, a low mo in near her. Shi* dropped on her knees. “Papa, papa, are you here?” It was a praver now. Surely she hoard a sound as if in answer, and it seemed to come from the plank that had" slid over the gutter. In an instant Dear was over there pee ing among the planks. She could see nothing, but she could hear a sound phiinly now. She tried with frantic haste to raise the planks, but there was not strength enough in her small arms for that, and almost without thought she darted, not up the hill to her mother, but down into the b'ack valley at the foot of the hill, where a cart-path loading from the woods intersected the road. Along this dark path, overgrown with alders, she went till she came to a low shanty built, between two trees, and. bursting open the door, she crie.l: “O Biddy McCoy! comequick; some thing dreadful has happened on ths hill.” “What is’t yer sayin’?” said the startled Biddy, starting from her seat; .but as Dear was already out of doors’ she added, suiting the action to the words: " Here, Bridget, tak the babby, and you Mike,” to a stupid boy by the tire, “got yer lanthern and cotno along;” and without waiting to put any thing on her head she followed Dear.* The child was already out of sight, but Hiddy went on at a sounding gallop till she canie to the foot of the hill. There she saw the small figure flying before her and beckoning her on. * ” “Shute, an’ somethin’ dreadful has happened.” said the breathless Biddy, crossing herself as she came up to the wrecked wasron. “Is any one hurted?” as 1 >ear c died her tn help. " I’m afraid—l'm afraid there's some one under the planks,” gasped Dear, trying single handed to lift the load. “ Here, gurl, that’s no way to warruk, tak' the top one first. Mike, yo lazy sowl. get along wid yer lanthern!” and her voice went down the hillside like the blast of a trumpet, starting even the slow Mike into a run. “ There, hould tha|,” said she, hand ing the lantern to Dear, and with Bid dy’s stout arms at one end and Mike's at the other, the planks were thing over into the road. Dear held her breath, and before the planks were all off they could see that a man lay there stretched in the bed of the gutter. The planks were over him like a roof, or the cover of a box. and. when the last one was off, 1 ear saw her father's fa e, still ami white, but she could not utter a sound. n- j i owlv Mother, helpus!” e aculated Bid iy. “Take his feet. Mike, and help get him out of the wather He'll he arowned intirelv if he'sno kilt already." Tor as he lay damming up thenarrow channel, the choked water had risen and spread around him in an ever-ririn<r pool. As they took him up and laid him doun in the road, the motion seemed to rouse him to life, for Biddv. stooping over him with the lantern, saw his eyes suddenly open. He looked about him in a bewildered way, and then lilutched at the reins that were still in Ids hands, shouting: “Whoa, Fan, whoa!” Then he slowly raised himself on his elbow, and seeing the planks scattered about him muttered: “Why! she’s got away.” “ Are ye much hurted. sur?” asked Biddy, concernedly, taking his arm as if she would help him to his feet. “I don’t know, I’m cold,” said he, •lowly. “An’ well ye might be, lyin’ in all ; that wather,” and she told him how I they had found him lying in the gutter, with the planks over him, but not on him, and the water around him. “ Is that you, Dear? and has the horse gone home?” asked he after a moment, seeing the little, shak ng figure beside him* “ Yes. nana.’* and all kt Once th* convulsive sobs leaped oeyond her con trol, and she fell on her knees, quite unable to say or do anything but sob. The sight and the sound of her sobs did more than anything else to restore her father to himself. With Biddy’s heln he slowly rose from the ground, and, after standing a moment, he said, steadily: “I believe I am all right, only cold and a little confused. The fall must have stunned me, and but for your help, my good woman, I should have been a dead man soon. “It was yer little gurl tould us? We shouldn’t have known.” He held his hand to Deaf, and she caught it and held it under her chin, still unable to sneak. “Do ye think ye could walk, sur? 1 e’ve no right to be standin’ here wid yer wet clotlies.” Thus admonished they began to move. Biddy and Mike and the “lanthern” went with them to the top of the hill. By that time Harvey Gateshad obta ned full possession of himself, and he bade Biddy good-night, telling her he would see her on the morrow. “Now, Dear,” said he. “run home and tell your mother, quietly, that the wagon broke down, but that I am all right, and will be in directly.” It was not until near noon the next day, when Dear broke into an irrepress ible fit of sobbing, that her mother knew how near death had been to them that night. She turned very white, and after a moment said: “Children, we have great reason to be thankful today.” A little later Harvey Gates came in. He had been down with Luke to get the planks out of the road and to see Biddy McCoy. He told a pitiful story of the poverty in the little shanty. “ There will be no Thanksgiving supper there to-day,” he said. Mrs Gates winced a little. She was a thrifty woman, and it was not easy for her to understand the blessedness of giving. “ And such a baby, such a little mite of a baby! ’ continued Harvey Gates, as If speaking to himself. “A baby?” repeated Mrs. Gates, pausing on her way to the oven; “did you say Biddy had a baby?” “Yes, and the poor little thing looks half starved.” “Mamina,” said Dear, eagerly, “why can’t we have them all up here to Thanksgiving supper? We’ve got enough for them.” Harvey Gates glanced at his wife. After a moment's hesitation she sad: “Yes, they can come, I suppose, if there ain’t more’nforty or fifty of ’em;” and she opened the oven door and basted the turkey with energy. “ Har vey.” she called, as she neard him going toward the door, “tell B ddy to bring the baby; and here, you take that thick shawl in the entry to wran it up warm.” And so the McCoy’s had the grandest Thanksgiving supper of their lives; and no more thankful company gathered in New England that day, the Gates family feeling very tender oxer their escape from agreat calamity.— Josephine R. Raker, in .s, .S'. Times, Horse-Shoeing. Horse-shoeing is-.quite an “art.” though there are hundreds of smiths who know how to tack a shoe on, per haps how to make a neat-looking one, but who do not know when a horse is properly shod. If horse owners only knew how a horse should be shod there would be fewer poor and careless horse shoers One great fault, and one to be avoided, is burning the hoof with a red hot shoo to “ tit” it to the foot, and no horse-owner should permit the srn th to do this, as it crisps up the foot, making it harsh, brittle and liable to be broken” Do not permit the smith to tit the foot to the shoe by needless rasping and cut ting. but have the hoof dressed up properly, and then have the shoe fitted lo the foot. Fixe nails in each shoe, if properly driven and “turned,” will hold almost any shoe on until it should be removed, though for horses which do very heavy work seven nails may be de sirable. Never permit the frog to be pared away. If there be ragged or torn edges, these may be taken oil', but never do more, for nothing protects the foot from injury as does a healthy frog, while a large part of the foot-lameness we now see is caused by being careless in this matter. —Jfmneapo/ts Tridane. Extinction of a Family. A remarkable instance of the extinc tion of a family has occurred near Rox ana. N. C. Jacob Evans and his wife died a year or two ago and left two sons and two daughters. An unmarried brother of Mrs. Evans hamed Taylor also lived for the most of his time with the children. A short time ago one of the daughters, who had married mean while, died. In a little while Taylor died. In a week or two more the other daughter died, and was followed to the grave in a few days more by one of the brothers. The other brother and only remaining fragment of the family ha’s been for some time at the point of death, though at present is reported better. These deaths have occurred within the space of little more than a month. The family are said to have been mentally weak, and when death removed the first the rest gave way to melancholy and . died.— North Carolina Payer. —The Italian ship Francesca, laden with rice, sprang a leak the other dav and put into port at East London. She was promptly pumped out and a large force of men were set to work to unload her. The rice was in bags and the work was pushed with all speed; yet the rice swelled so rapidly that the ship was violentlv burst asunder. RELIGIOUS AND EDUCATIONAL. —Drawing has been made obligatory in the th rd year of the regular high school course in Boston. —The Baptists of Ge-many will cele brate the semicentennial of the mission in 1884 by establishing a fund for in valid preachers. —The Board of the American Baptist Publication Society have sold the Na ti< na' Raplist to its present editor, Rev. Dr. 11. L. Wayland. —Ad I e:t College, which was built by Amasa Stone, Jr,, of Cleveland, at a cost of 0,000, Was dedicated recently with impressive cer monies, many dis tingu'shed educators being present. —-Rev. E. Morrow, of the Canada Methodist Church, has bequeathed $lO,- 000 t > various funds of that church, and also ninety-two acres of land for the es tabl sbuicut of a Methodist College in Manitoba —The church membership 1H Balti more is said to be larger in proportion to the population than that of any other citx’ of Ito size in the Union —117.689 o! the 34'1,000 profile bring enrolled as commune nts in the several Churches. —The Pre idency of the new Meth odist College : n Foochow, China, has been conferred upen Rev. G._ B. Smy h, of the Newark Conference. He is a graduate of the New York Col lege andof the Drew Theological Semi nar.’. —We hear, says the London Acade my, that the i‘eviset‘3 of the Old Testa ment have made so much progress that their work Will certainly be finished in a few more months. Indeed, there is even soma probability that the re vise I Ohl Testament may be ready for pubbeat on by the close of next year. —The Indian school at Carisle, Pa., has 330 pupil, on its roll. The experi ment la-t summer of sending the chil dren out among the farmers of the neighborhood was so successful that the plan has been ado - ted, and about fifty of the Indian children now under the care of the institution Will be placed with farmers during the winter and at tend the public schools. Chicago Times. —Archbishop Bourget, of Montreal, now ari octogenarian, has within two years paid oft' a debt Os nearly $1,000,- 000 resting upon the DiocesC, being largely aided by the increase in the market value of real estate belonging to the church. He is now engaged in building a cathedral modeled after St. Peter’s in Rome, to cost $1,000,000, of which amount $400,000 has already been subscribed. —Chicago Times. * ■■ ■ 1 A Learned French Locksmith. If Adrian Maquet, the learned lock smith of Marly, finds that to be famous is a pleasant sensation, he must thank his good fortune for having given him \ ictorien Sardou for a neighbor. But for the dramatist’s kindly help in writ ing a preface to his humble friend’s re cently published book, “Les Seig neurs de Marly,” the Paris literati m’ght never have recognized the merit of its remarkable author. The preface has aroused so much curiosity in the sub ect of it that the locksmith, who a few days ago had scarcely been heard of outside his village, is now receiving visits from Paris journalists, who de scribe his poor dwelling, his gray hair and horny hands with graphic exact ness. and are eager to publish anythin' he may tell them about himself. Adrian Maquet has added another name to the list of learned working men. For thirty-five years the study of local history and ant’quities has been his ruling passion. Whenever he could steal a day from his toil he would be take himself to some public 1 brary at 1 aris or Versailles, and by the aid of a system of short hand that he had in vented. would often take notes enough to serve h in for three months’ noctur nal study, lie had another way of ob ta ning tl e information he coveted. W hen sent to work at a neighboring chai eau possessing a history, he would beg leave of the proprietor to look at the family documents, and, the motive being appreciated, the permission was readily granted. In course of time he became as expert in deciphering an -lent manuscripts as an adept of the Ecole des Chartes. The paleographic locksmith is now in a fairway of re ceiving some Government appo'ntment which will free him from those hin drances to his beloved pursuit which for thirty-five y»ars he has so bravely struggled against St. James' Gazette. Analysis of American Hnmor. American humor is something of its own kind, as purely and peculiarly a part of, the United States as pumpkin pie. We have among us the vivacity of the French, the fun of the Irish, the graver mirth of the English, and the epigrammatic expressiveness of the Scotch; this curious mixture has made our wit what it is, and every American humorist shows the traces of it. If we analyze the elements of the distinctive kind and sort of writing which passes under the general head, we shall be sur prised to see the resemblance among themselves and their difference from all other foreign species. We are born fol lowers of. Baron Munchausen, and exag geration is at the bottom of the most of our humor. When John Phoenix said that he called out to the crowd on shore, “Good-by, Colonel,’’ and every able bodied man in it raised his hat and cried “Good-by, Colonel,” in response, he touched the great nerve of American humor; and when he stated that he held the belligerent editor down over the press “by means of our nose, which we had inserted between his teeth for this purpose,” he showed the second trait of the characteristic comic writer—namelv, ludicrous juxtaposition and reversing of ordinary ideas. And so, when Arte- ' mus « ard says to the young man who disturbs him in the theater: “I’d ap pint your funeral to-morrow afternoon, and the corpse should be ready,” he gives us the third feature, quaint phrase ology and odd turns of dialect. In these three points, then—exaggeration, lu dicrousness, and odd forms of speech— we find the distinctive peculiarities of our American wit.— Prof. S. W. Duffield. mN. 1. Independent. M -A stranger dropped into Waco, lex., the other day and showed’em how to make lemonade for five cents a gallon, sixty of those who imbibed had to call the doctor. I VTM. A. MILLER, «• ». «AR<MiA MILLER & CARGILL, WHOLESALE QU E’E.NJSIW ARE No. 184 Market Street, CHATTAHOOGA, TZEHSTTST. Refined Petroleum and Lubricating- Oils THE “WHITE” SEWING MACHINE, The Ladies’ Favorite! because T IS THE LIGHTEST3GMID the moat quiet; makes th* prettiest stitch; and has more conyenien css tbaa M * n y other. Machine. F V I*" * 8 warr »nted five years and is Hie- A A SHI easiest to sell, and gives the best satis prtim y I I faction of any Machine on the us a rket ■ H . Intending purchasers are solicited t examine it before buying. Reeponsible dealers wanted in all unoccupied t«r J. T>. Ac T. I \ SMITH, Wholesale and RLetail Dealers, Uge L awrence Martin’s " T © M! For~C° UCHS . colds SORE THROAT BRONCHITIS, ASTHMA, PNEU* MONIA CONSUMPTION, Diseases of THROAT, CHEST AND LUNGS, nA I ft ft BI ft Tft I II Has always been one of the most important Wfl | xfl M IIL Illi II weapons wielded by the MEDICAL FACULTY UH IAI n IVI 111 I 111 11 againsttheencroacnmentsof COUGHS.COLDA Ul IU LU BRONCHITIS, ASTHMA, SORE THROAT r P”- ln incipient and advanced stages, and all diseases of the THROAT.CHEST t* las uev er been so advantageously compounded as in the TOLU, ROCK and “ • Its soothing Balsamic properties afford a diffusive stimulant and tonic to build up ths system after tne cough has been relieved. Quart size bottles, Price f 1.00. All T I M T Do not be deceived by dealers who try to palm off Rock and Rye I.VIW ! in place of our TOLU, ROCK AND RTF. which Is the ONLY MEDICATED article—the genuine has a Private Die Proprietary Stamp on each bottle, which permits it to be Sold by liriiKg-iHta, Grocers and Dealers Everywhere, WITHOUT SPECIAL TAX OR LICENSE. r he TOLU, ROCK AND RYE CO,, Proprietors, 41 River St., Chicago, 111. marll janl till 59 Broad Street. ATLYN TA. G < K. r. 'WKIGrIXT, XV liolesale and Retail Druffgist, Dealer in I3BUETG-S, ZMLTGTDIOIJNTES, CHEMICALS PW for n u B l e’coiora’i?On t’in '"t Art 'U s E ene 1 r » 1I y : White Lean, Mixed Paints, read ror use, colors in OU, Dry, Linseed, Tanners’, Machine and Kerosene Oils- Varnisha* Putty, Window Glass, I.amps and I,amp Fixtures: Surgical \pparatus such ' th.- a A b d orni na> Supporters, Trusses, Lancets. Poekft Cases’ Jte etc This flrm also deals in Smoking and Chewing Tobacco, Fine Cigars and Snuff and have the ax ciusiye Drug trade in fine Wines, Whiskies and Brandies in Dalton ’ “ aompa?c with Atlanta. C ° rner ° f K ‘ ng *“'* Hamilton streeta, Dalton, Ga. Fries guaranteed j. ,|el» tfe TClxo 1> Alton. .A. y i <=s 9 [CHANGRD FROM INDIPENIINT HEADLIGHT,] Brightest, Most Progressive, Liberal and P opula News Paper in Northwest G-eorgia. O3NTLY O2STE LDOLEuJLEL Al YEAH H. A. WRENCH, Publish sr. The Virginia Country Squire of the Colonial Period. Apart from politics, these country squires found but little business where with to occupy their time. The direct supervision of the slaves was ordinarily intrusted to overseers, and the masters were thus secured in the enjoyment of ample leisure, which men of noble ambi tion. such as Jefferson and Madison could turn to good profit in cultivating ' ,’r minds. But to men of more common mold this ample leisure became monot onous, and in such a society as that nere depicted, with no town life, no roads or inns worth speaking of, and no amuse ments save horse-racing, the entertain ment of guests by the month together was regarded both as a duty and as a privilege. Every planter kept open house, and provided for his visitors with unst nted hand. The style of living was extremely generous, and often splendid. Ihe houses were spacious and solidly built, sometimes of brick or stone, but more often of wood. Panelled wainscots of oak and carved oaken chimney-pieces were common, and the rooms were furnished with the handsomest chairs and tables and cabinets that could be brought over from England. The dress .00, of both men and women was rich and costly, and the latest London fash ions were carefully followed. Silver plate elegant china, and choice wines were commonly to be found at these great manor-houses, and the stables were stocked with horses of the finest breed. -John Fisk.-, i, t Harper's Maqazine. —About the most uncomfortable seat a man can have, in the long run, is self conceit. Effect of Cultivation. he common potato probably shows he etlect of cultivation as much as any plant ever introduced into fields or gi adens. But it is not generally known . that the change from its normal to what we may term improved state is quite lapid, requiring only a few years to pro duce large tubers of various colors from ♦k Wl !' l , ones b y careful culture. Where v 'll* plants grow abundantly in L ew Aae * lco an< l some parts of Arizona, the ranch men assure us that when they plow up the wild plants in putting in cultivated crops, the effect upon the po tatoes is quite marked. The tubers at first are about the size of small marbles, or a half inch or a little more in di ameter, but the second season after being disturbed they will become nearly or quite double the original size, and the next season still larger, if not killed out in the plowing and hoeing. The * lz e °f the plants also increases and the leaflets, which at first are only about a halt inch wide by an inch in length, in- ? r t a T * n sanie proportion as the uoers. We have ourselves gathered the tubers from the wild plants in the undisturbed soils of the valleys of New Mexico, as well as from the disturbed or plowed land, and noted the dif erence in size as claimed by many of Her ild ldentS ° f the countr y— N ' K ~A man Charlotte, N. C., touched a lighted cigar to the elephant’s trunk to 11 11 anything would happen. People ' ho picked him up after his flight found ' mr and arm broken.— Detroit Free i. ee..