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VOL. V.-NO. 23. <‘PE WIT! PE WEN." f back in boyhood’s rosy morn, ntlie far®* where I was born, Winter's hand relaxed Its hold, arms did earth infold, r gjad was 11ho bird to see t seenieh t° say: "Pe wit! Po wee!” • well remembered barn within, ■oft have I enchanted bob',; prehed upon some brace or beam, sou '’ter still its threadbare theme jwellupon' However trite, ids—l listened with delight: "Pe wit! Pe wee!” yas it an (esthetic strain did inv spirit so enchain ; rbo emdd guess a charm could be osesAridnetes: “1 e wit! Pe wee!” far removed from that dear spot, eboyhood scenes still uniorgnt; fragile songster still 1 hear, gain iinelumget’ from year to year; rnt 'tis over new to me— stereotyped "Pe wit! Pe vrf. 3!” —JI. Latta, in Our Continent. BROKEN ENGAGEMENT. »n Mary Clarimont’s engagement reclaimed to the world there en geueral expression of surprise, pie generally are euiprised at mat ul engagements. There is always cogent it a on why things should been adjusted otherwise why should have married Joan, and should prefer Betsey. Nobody reryel married to suit everybody. iu* Mmy Clarimont’s case it did seem as u the course of true love itarfered seriously with the current unou sense and prudence. 8 Clarimont was only one-and ?, a tail, imperial beauty, with black eyes, a skin as fresh as ik roses, and dark-brown hair,' in shilling bands at the back of iead. Moreover, Miss Clarimont "career” before her. She had jraduated from Medfield Medical jtsitv and taken out her diploma M. D. id only to think of it,” said Aunt listing into tears of vexation and (ointment, “that she must needs drain all her prospects by getting ed to Hany Marlow, down in New I” does seem strange, Aunt Jo, when own and think of it,” said Doctor , laughing and blushing. “Six is ago my profession was all the to me, I neither wished nor for anything outside its limits, future was all mapped out before without let or hindrance; and [urnph 1” growled Aunt Jo. “Any less idiot can get married and keep ns house and mend his shirts for but you were made for something ir and more dignified, Mary.” p s dev-blight eyes spat kled. uglier, Aunt Jo ? ’ said she. ‘ ‘ More ted? There you are mistaken. 1 U nc higher or more dignified lot 1 than that of the true wife of a no nsbands.” fiddlesticks !” said Aunt Jo. “As en poor fool who was dazzled by utter of a wedding-ring didn’t say same thing | You’ve disappointed Alary Clarimont, and I’m ashamed and that is the long and the t of it,” hy smiled. W Aunt Jo,” said she, “ I shall ft my sword and shield rust, believe -larry has only his own talents to nee him in the world, and it will be bt a year before we shall be ready d!r . v ' In the meantime I shad ac- J 1 '* post of visiting physician to the Jdy almshouse and practice my -son in Aideubnry, just the same were were no engagmm nt.” "ish tu goodness there wasn’t,” unt Jo. “J tell you what, Mary, t -aucy that smiling, smooth young man of yours, and I phall. Mary Clarimont kept her L a n. sorr y, unt J°.” she said, , ‘Dutl hope that you will . fW change your mind.” •wi *7 e '’l > 11 thread-and-needle Li". 11 ,' as a young woman,” re , < 'i “and J alwavs ..7. 0 lln " ot a counterfeit ha'f .. a Plls tomer laid ir. on the It a 1 could then, and I can now— ii»! !l ’y> there’s base “about Harry Mar.ow!” Lit her lip. ect | ll h’ u °i' discuss the tiii/'u lei * -t Jo,” she said, with <’" l y, and the old lady said no S ,?° i* ™g 1” persisted the lil. M - A to hers if. a i°ol of herself!” Mt Aunt Jo. '1 “b’aiy was a pretty manufactur- ' " lt * l a “'‘in streotshaded by p]' i Ge< ’ ÜBl^ a ples, a “west end,” where 77,"?° l' a d made their fortunes rcuni' 1 V r ,*' a l J ly tn rcomy old hous. s, til. ' - velvet lawns and terraced fonLm ( \ an * <eas t end,” whore poo- CesKf.li desperately and not always her 1 o lo k ee P soul and body to- M a ith m< ‘ rest pittance. '■■lions . 'i' "j ay oufc of the village the ,’ U1U a! ‘‘ l endowed by a cer ine., i? ii ■ Bea Uaptaui, whose con- ", .l' r ’ c ked him during his lat ihe sk\ ra i !KC I ( l tiheir gray-stone gables Un<l t' ’ “ nd m 'de a picturesque back- C ela ± a ’’ e - “"of laiy Clairmont made some- Ihi,.; a Ben sution at Aldenbury. Up '“S’ iff I .' H 1 the rosi dent M. D.’s had itv (ni , v °ld gentlemen with wigs or i 'bonmu '. 68 with eyeglasses. lioiis L" s ailc i compounded pills and “'I r■', ' S a "? ve lty in the town, and ILrlip 1 '] 4 ? disagreeable one. People kel t; ' , idea, once they had con emelves that the lady doctor Ci/ il 1 I lOTil thoroughly understood herself and her patents. And the poor old people at the alms house grow to love Doctor Mary and nsten wdh eager oar? for the sound of her carriage wheels over the blue gravel drive winch led up to the portico. t tvas a brilliant December day when the young physician stood in the neatly cirpetcd reception-room, drawing on l-r fur gloves previous to entering her neat phaeton once again, while she ro to the whit '-canped maid some directions concerning old Ann Mudgett’s rheumatism, when the matron * hur ried in. “ Oh, I beg vour pardon, Doctor C'a'rmont,” said she, “but I clean forgot the new old woman I” “The now old woman,” repeated Doctor Mary, with a smile. That is.’ explained Mrs. Cunning ham, “ she only camo L'<->t night—a quiet olg soul, half blind and quite bad with the asthma, Perhaps you’d !>■ tier just see her before you go. She brought a card of admission from Doctor Merton, ■ lie New York cl rgymnn, who is one of our directors, you know. And she seems a docent holy o'lnucli.” So Doctor Mary went cheerfully into the little brick-paved room, with its white pallet-bed cushioned rocking chair and neatly-draped casement, where sat a poor, little shriveled-up woman, wrapped in a faded shawl. She looked timidly up, as Doctor Mary came in, from under the borders of her cap. “I’m a poor holy, miss,” said she, “and I’m sensible I’m making a deal of trouble in the world. But the Lord don’t always take us, miss, when we’d like to go.” “This is the doctor,” said Mrs. Cun ningham. The little woman would have risen up to make a feeble courtesy, but Doctor Marv motioned her to keep her seat. “What is your name?” said she, pleasantly. “Louise Marlow, miss.” “ Marlow ? That is an unusual name, isn’t it?” said Mary Clairmont, coloring in suite of herself. “Were English, miss,” said the old woman, struggling bravety with her asthma. “There ain’t many of us in this country. I’ve • a son, miss, in the law business, as any mother might be .proud of.” “ A son!” echoed Mrs. Cunningham; “ and you in the almshouse !” “ Not that it’s his fault ma’am,” th. old creature made haste to exnlain. “My son is to be married to a fine, proud young lady, as is fit for any prince in all the land, and of course he can’t be ex pected to burden himself with a helpless old woman like me. Ho says I’m to write and let him know how I get along, and if I’m sick or anything he’ll try to see me. I sewed carpets until the asthma got hold of me, and supported myself comfortably. But of course I couldn’t lay up anything for a rainy day—who could ? And Henry couldn’t help me, for he’s getting ready to be married, poor lad! So I went to Dr. Merton and asked him did ho know of any decent place where an <ld woman like me could end her days in peace. And he gave me a card to come here and some money to pay my traveling ixpenses—God bless him!— and here I am !” Mary Clarimont ha 1 listened quietly to the garrulous ta’e, but the color had varied in her cheek more than once as she stood th re. “ Is your son’s name Harry Marlow . she said, slowly and tnoughttu ‘"Yes, miss, at your service, said the old woman, with a d:tek of her white-capped head, which was meant to do duty in place of the impossible courtesy. “Is he like this ?” said Doctor Mary, taking a photograph from h< r pocket. “The old woman, with trembling hands, fitted on her iron-bowed spec tacles, ami looked at the picture, utter ing a little cry of reeo. mtion. “Sure, miss, it is his own self, she cried. “You are acquainted widi h:m, then ?” “Somewhat,” said Doctor Mary, com posedly, as she ri'lurued the pin i . icph to it’s place. “And now 1 witMea\e you something to relieve tins difficulty in breathing.” . But the old crone eyed her wistfully. “Perhaps you know the young lady mv son is to marry ?” . . ‘“Yes.” said Doctor Mary, writing something in her proscription book. 1 have seen her.” “Perhaps, miss,” faltered toe old woman, “vou would give her my humble duty, and tell her L would just like to look at her lor once and see what she is like. Tlure’s no fear of my troubling her miss, for I mem to end my days here But I would like to sec her just ' once. And if it wouldn’t be asking too I much, miss, would you please write to mv son and tell where I ain? foi ni ; no scholar myself, and i m his mother, I after all.” ~ TA i “I will write to him,” said Domor Mary, quietly; and so she went an ay. “ 1 never see a lady doctor afore, said old Mrs. Marlow, with a long sigh. I “But she’s a pretty creetur, and it 1 seems good to have her around. I hope I she’ll come again soon.” , “You may be very sure of that, said the matron, brusquely. “ Doctor Clan mont ain’t one to neglect poor people because they are poor. _ That evening Aunt Jo, frying crnlleis over the kitchen fire, was surprised by a visit from her niece, who came m, all wrapped in furs, with her cheeks crim soned with the frosty, winter air. “Bless me! this ain’t never your said Aunt Jo, peering over the rims of her spectacles. t ’• “ I drove over to see you, Aunt Jo, said Marv, “to tell yon that you were right. The metal was counterfeit, DALTON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, JANUARY 27, 1883. “Eh ?” said Aunt Jo, mechanically ladling out the brown, curly crullers, although she did not look at what she was doing. “I have written to Harry Marlow, canceling our engagement,” said Doctor Mary, calmly, albeit her voice faltered a little. “The man who will heartlessly let his old mother go into an almshouse, sooner than take the trouble to maintain her, can be no tit husband for anv woman !” And then she sat down bv the fire ami told Aunt Jo everything ;‘for crabbed, crusty old Aunt joe had been like a mother to her, and the girl’s heart was full to overflowing. When she had ceased speaking Aunt Jo nodded her head. “You have done well and wisely,” said she. Old Mrs. Marlow died that winter, in Aldenbury almshouse, with her h ad on Doctor Mary Clarimont’s arm, and never knew that her garrulous confessions ha T deprived her son of his promised wife. And Mary says quietly and resolutely that her profession must be husband and home to her henceforward. “J ust what it ought to be,” says Aunt Jo. “No woman every yet succeeded in doing two things at once.” And even thereafter Dr. Mary wore bloomers, fought for the rights of her sex and entertained an unquenchable dislike for the male sex. Predicting Storms. Prof. E. Stone Wiggins, LL. D., the Canadian astronomer who recently warned the President that “preeminent ly the greatest storm that has visited this continent” since the days of Wash ington will sweep over the United States on certain days of next March, appears to be responsible for some remarkable statements in an Ottawa newspaper. The Free Press of that city soberly de clares that “The leading scientists of Europe have endorsed the prediction,” and adds: “There can.be no doubt that if the Toronto Meteorological Bu reau had acted upon his warning in September the Asia, with a hundred souls on board, would not have been lost. The United States Signal Office, however, so the American Register tells us, had implicit faith in his predictions, owing to his standing as an astronomer in that country, having ranked second in the race for the Warner prize last year, for which 125 of the leading as tronomers competed. Accordingly three days before the time named by Wiggins they hoisted the storm signals, and the same journal telis us that his prediction in that one instance saved the United States $8,000,000!” This is a pretty story to tell to Dr. Wiggins’ doubting countrymen, but it has no value on this side of the border. The Signal Service Office does not in any way sanction the prediction for March, and we think it is entirely safe to say that, instead of having had “im plicit faith” in any forecast from Cana da last September, the recent letter to the President was the first warning the bureau had that Dr. Wiggins was abroad. The storm signals hoisted along the coast between 10 a. m. of September 5 and 12:05, of September 13, were warnings of the approach of a cyclone from the tropics, and had no connection with the storm from the Pa cific Coast in which the Asia was lost. The cyclone was of such great energy that signals were also raised on the lakes for northerly winds; but these were lowered September 11, and no more were again displayed until the morning of the 14th, the day the Asia was lost in Georgian Bay. In other words, the lake signals were lowered before the Asia storm reached the Pa ci tic Coast, and they were not ordered up again until that storm suddenly de veloped great violence over Lakes Supe rior and Huron, which was after 11 p. m. of September 13. The warnings for the cyclone- made without knowledge of any prediction of Dr. Wiggins—saved at least $13,000,000 in property, enough to cover the expenses of the signal ser vice for ten years.— N. Y. Tribune. Nettling a Witness. The Troy Press says: Witnesses in court cases after having pestered almost to death by counsel on the other side are extremely apt to become obstinate in an swering subsequent questions. Such ac tion, although natural, is of poor judg ment, for the inquisitive lawyer seeing that he has nettled the witness will re double his exertions to completely con s and thus benefit the case of the cross-examining discilpes of Blackstone, lu the Circut Court, yesterday, a witness after having been expressibly wearied by the persist nt interrogatories of eminent counsel, apparently imide up his mind to become obstinate and possibly witty, so when asked the distance from one point to au jther by street blocks, he answered, “I never measured.” “How long would it take you to walk the distance ?” n “I never counted.’ “How long would it take you to ride the distance?” “I never rode. ” . “Could you walk the distance in fif teen minutes?” “Yes, if I wanted to.’ Answers were given in this unsatisfac tory manner until finally t’ e information desired was obtained. But after that the witness was doubly persecuted, and upon ba-.imr the stand his feelings mn. t have been identical with those of the fellow who dreamed he stepped from hell into heaven in a second of time. Witnesses who adopt the obstinate-witty fashion must expect rough handling. They ab ways get it —♦ The ocean front at Long Branch has been washing away so fast that property owners there are building bulkheads md jetties to save their property. A Lang. Felt Want. I have had occasion to travel consid erably during the past year, and at half the houses 1 stopped the b scuits were raw nt the bottom, aud either as heavy as lead or yellow as a pumpk n with soda, while the meat was swimming in grease. Why, it is enough to give a razor-back hog. a sheep-killing dog, or a Bengal tiger dyspepsia. And'then the coflee—how detestable! Vi hat it is made of 1 have not the slightest idea; but whatever it is, it has not the remotest kinship to genuine Rio or the delicious ly- 11 avore.l Java. Horace Greeley vis ited the South soon after the war, and the only criticism his kind heart made was in these memorable words: “I he f’outh needs twenty thousand cooks!” It would not ffavc been prudent for Mr. ( reeley to have made a visit to the South before the war, but if be had, and been entertained by 20,000 farmers and planters, he would have said: “The .South has 20,000 of the best cooks in the world:” Southerners always educated their daughters, and when these daugh ters ma r.ed they made the r home at tractive in .arious wavs, and especially in the cooking department. They edu cated negro women in the art o cook ing, and allowed them to do nothing else, consequently the cooking was ex ec.lent. But the abolition of slavery also abolished good cook ng, except as to the negro women who were educated by their mistresses in the culinary art, and the mistro ses themselves. I heard a gentleman make a very sensible re mark recently. “Vanderbilt, I’eabody and Slater have given millions of dollars to the cause of educa tion in the South, and I honor them as great benefit tors of our section; but if I had several million* to give away I would establish all over the South schools in which tie: a, t of cooking ■would be taught. In doing this I would be subserving the cause of mor ality and religion, as well as of civiliza tion and humanity. Properly-cooked food causes health, and perfect health is condu ive to good tern: er, cheerful ness, kind feeling, efficient and capa ble work, mental and physical, while badly-cooked food produces indiges tion. indigestion causes bad health in every part of the human system, fret fulness, hatefulness, disc ntent, poor mental and physical labor, and renders life a curse to himself and all those around him. A man cannot be a true Christian, in all that it means, if he is fed upon badly cooked food all is days. The great, need of the country is good cocks and plenty of them. Young ladies should be instructed in the art, both at school and at home. It is time the country was awakening to this great nee 1. A well-to-do parent spends SSOO to give his daughter a musical ed ucation. aud another SSOO to buy her a piano, and nine chances to one she nev er plays on it a year after her mar riage. If the SI,OOO were -pent in giv ing her a practical and t eoreti al knowledge o’ cooking, it would be far better for her and infinitely better for her future husband and children.” The man who made these remarks is ma rled, and has three beautiful daugh ters.—“hence these tears.”— Cor. Nash ville {Tenn.} American. Taking Tilings for Granted. Half the failures in life result from the habit so mauy people have of taking things for granted. The business man assumes that his credits are good ; he takes it for granted that his wife knows what style of living his income will war rant ; until the logic of addition, sub traction and multiplication proves too much for him, and down comes his busi ness in ruin. The young professional man takes it for granted that veneering instead of solid acquirements will ena ble him to succeed, because there are so many notorious examples of men’s rising and maintaining themselves in publi* life through pure audacity, native wit, and an utter lack of conscience. He will find too late that it won’t do to plan and risk a career by the exceptions rather tlian the rule. The farmer keeps no ac count—crops his farm according to the, season, or last year’s markets, or his neighbor’s success—takes it for granted that the laws of nature and of trade will accommodate themselves to his necessi ties—sinks deeper into debt, and won ders why farming doesn’t pay. And so on to the end; men everywhere want success without paying its price in thor ough preparation, honest hard work, in telligent calculation and foresight, pa tient attention to details. They take for granted things which it is their business to know, and trust that to fortune which common sense and experience should teach them is controlled by law Golden Rule. A Sure Cur/. “Don’t you know it’s very wrong to smoke, my boy?” said an elderly-look ing lady, in a railway waiting room, to Young America, who persisted in puff ing a cheap cigarette, much to the old lady’s discomfort. “Oh, I smoke for my health,” an swered the boy, emitting a volume of smoke from his mouth, which almost strangled the old lady. “But you never heard of a cure from smoking, continued the lady when she had regained consciousness. “Oh, yes I did,” persisted the boy, as he formed his mouth into a young Ve suvius working on full time; “thats the way thev cure pigs." “Smoko on, then,” quickly replied the old lady; “there’s some hope for you ye t!”— Yonkers Staff suinn. —A well-to-do farmer created a sensa tion at Reading, Pa., recently,by bring ing his three young and handsome daughters into court as the plaintiffs in three separate actions for breach o promise of marriage. Country Road Making. It is a matter of universal comment with travelers that country road making : in the United States is either a lost art 'orato be acquired science. The aver ! age selectman or road agent of a coun i try town is usually deplorably ignorant of the first principles of maßing a good i road. Nothing will so surely advance the growth and well-being of a town as j well made and well-kept roads. No i part of its domest c economy will more ! certainly repay the outlay. Nothing i more bespeaks the intelligence and ; character or public spirit, of its cit zens. , In England and most of its dependen ' cies the roads are made dire: t y‘ by the i State or under its supervision. As a re ult the contrast between Engli h i roads and those of this country is much in favor of the former. A common and I natural mistake <f moat to ns in this ; country is that an intelligent farmer ■ must necessarily know how to make a J good road, but the reverse is the fact, i Road making is a subject requ ring study and a knowledge of the nature of foils, not often cons dered by any but engineers, or th se to w hom such kno .fl edge is a necessary adj net of their business in life. A well made r ad even in our climate and with the wide differ ences in s >il ingre lients, will last for years, whereas ordinarily the items of repairs on our roads means an entirely changed thoroughfare, the pitch, watersheds and general character being more in the way of experiment than a scientific and practical renova tion. The country road maker com mences by throwing out the “big ones’, on to the side of the road, retaining the smaller ones, when by thoroughly “bedding” the big stones the best possible foundation is had and with a covering of small stones mixed with gravel, or even with good loam care lully harrowed and scraped, a road bed is formed which will defy both rains and heavy teams. Generally the tyro devotes his time to heaping the ma ter al in the center with such a slope as o'ten to interfere with locomotion, and which heap the first heavy team re solves nto deep ruts, vitiating its use fulness for any but a similarly heavy team and for it only with constantly in creas ngstrain on the horses. Yankee in genuity has invented capital road mak ing tools which need but intelligent ap plication to develop such thoroughfares as would make them admired in place of be ng a reproach and shame. Our co sntry is rich enoughtoplace the roads in the h inds of such government as will insure their perfection instead of leaving them to town officials without the educa tion or experience necessary to an ac complishment of the object— Hartford Courant. Haunted by llis Crime. The following striking example of the state of a murderer’s heart, with its ceaseless memory and perpetual self-ac cusation, brings forcibly to mind the words of Webster: “A vulture is de vouring it, and it can ask no human as sistance or sympathy.” The case is that of Martin Battles, of Charlotte, N. Y., who twenty years ago shot and killed Cornelius Lynch. He was tried and convicted of min .e: in the first degree, and sentenced to one year in the Auburn penitentiary, and then to be hanged. His case was brought before the Court of Appeals. The court decided that the act of the Legislature was unconstitutional, and Battles was set at liberty. He enlisted in the Union army, and served through the late war. lie then returned. He declared that he was constantly haunted by the presence of the man he had killed, and he was sorry that the sentence of the law had not been carried out. He en deavored to have himself placed on trial again, hoping that he would be recon victed and hanged. Ho finally became a maniac, and was placed in the West ern asylum for the insane. He is still an inmate»! that institution, mid im agines that his victim is always present in his cell for the purpose of mocking and torturing him. Ho at times throws himself on bis knees and begs Lynch to kill him. Although only 40 years of age, bis hair is as white as a man’s of 70. Every day is one of terror to him. —New York Sun. — ■ Did Him a Favor. A few days since a prominent mem ber of the Board of Trade was sum moned to sit as a juryman in one of the courts of record. Now, however much business men may regret that our jury system is such that incompetent and un fit men may get upon juries, they do not care to improve the syste i at per sonal loss, anti each term of court sees them urging their claims to be excused. The gentleman in question made an ap plication to be excused, and, after being sworn, stated that he could not serve except at considerable pecuniary loss to himself. “ What is the na’ttre of your busi ness?” inquired the Court. “ i am a grain merchant.” “ Where do you transact your busi ness principally?” “On the Board of Trade. “ Well, I think I shall, under the cir cumstances, do you a favor.” “ Thank your Honor,” said the mer chant, bowing gratefully and starting for the door. . “Hold on! Hold on!” exclaimed the Court. “The favor I refer to is this: If you were to go down to the Board of Trade you would likely get cornered on wheat (is that the correct term?) and lose your money. I’ll save you from loss by keeping you here. Swear the jury, Mr. Clerk!”— Delroit Free Press. --A Virginia negro lay aown on a railroad recently to see it the passenger train would stop to rouse him up. Tho I train didn’t TERMS: SI.OOA. YEAR pirn aid rotsT. —Fannie: You are right. It is better ;to return a kiss for a blow; and a great deal sweeter. — Christian at Work. —There are some people »o eaten up with curiosity that they would turn a rainbow to see what color its back ig.— i N. Y. Herald. —One reason why the girls won’t kiss the cigarette-smoker id because his ■ face is so pale and sallow. He doesn’t look healthy.— Trenton (N. J.) Times. i —Whoever doubts that the newspa- I pers have a mission should enter a car and see how useful they are to the mon when a fat woman with a big bas ket is looking around for a seat.—Low ell Citizen. j —A lunatic in charge of his keeper, wfliile stepping aboard a train the other day, stepped on a banana-peel and slid under the car. “Ah!” exclaimed the keeper, “I am like a disabled locomo tive, for I’ve slipped my eccentric.” —“Detrain” is a now word in use in England. When a body of soldiers alight from railway cars they “detrain.” Pretty soon the papers will teem with “dehorsecar,” “deomnibus,” “dehack,” “decanalboat,” and so forth.— Chicago I Herald. —Minister Hannibal Hamlin is home. Minister John Russell Young is coming home, and Minister Sargent wants to come. Somehow the glitter of foreign courts never can take the place of American buckwheat cakes and pump kin pies in the winter season. — Philadel phia News. —Little Willie, son of Mrs. Jennie Jones Cunningham, has been quite ill for some time, and sleepless and suffer ing. The other night, “in the still, small hours,” he suddenly repeated his prayer, and then said, “Grandmamma, ask God not to let the night be so long!” ' —Louisville Courier-Journal. —A rare pleasure— Deep on the country roads tho snow Is sparkling to tho moon. While, tlecked with foam, the swift steeds go. Spurning tho streets of ico below. And, huddled up in soft, warm fur, Quite hidden from the traveler, The lovers softly spoon, O, what is so rare As a ride in a sleigh With a maiden fair. And none to say nay? —“Morning! Cold as blazes’s morn ing,” greeted a business man yesterday. “Pretty cold, certainly; but why utter such an absurdity as ‘cold as blazes?’ Blazes are hot, you know.” “What would you say?” “Oh, say it’s cold enough to freeze two dry rags together, or something of that sort.” The lesson in etymology being over, both passed on.— Boston Globe. Aphorisms From the Quarters. When you make de jail too nice, you better strenkin’ de hog-pen. Mule llon’t kick ’cordin to no rule. Black sheep hide mighty easy in de dark. Better keep de rockin’ cheer in de cabin lof’ tell Sunday. You can’t coax de mornin’-glory to clam de wrong way ’round do corn stalk. Sat’day night he’p de roomatiz pow ’ful. High-l’arnt nigger ain’t much service at de log-rollin’. Blind bridle can’t hide de fodder stack sum de loan horse. Hot sun make de blades dull in de harves’-fiel’. Mule don’tunnerstan’ de wheelborrer. Smart rabbit go home ’fo' de spow done failin’. Dead limb on de tree show itse’f when de buds come out. Di ibin’ de steers wid mule-talk is flingin’ ’way yotfr bref. Tin plate don’t mind drappin’ on de flo’. Cussin’ de weather is mighty po’ farmin’. It takes heap o’ licks to dribe a nail in de dark. Good signs o’ rain don’t always he’p de young crap. Books don’t tell when de bee-martin an’ de chicken-hawk fell out. Don’t take too big a chip on a saplin’. De public road ain’t free for de rat tlesnake. De plovv-p’int is close kin to de meal bag. Dar’s some fac's in de wul’ dat don’t slide ’long on de telegraph-wire.— J. A. Macon, in The Century. A Novel Time-Piece. A man who was appointed watchman at a mine on the Comstock had no watch. He did not wish to buy one, yet was desirous of knowing how tho time was passing. He borrowed the wat hos a friend tor one night. On re turning the watch next day he told his fnend that he was all right now. that he had a time-keeper of his own. He then unrolled a strip of paper some four inches in width from a stick and ex hibited it as his clock. On the strip of pauer ho had marked down, as they rose above the horizon, all the st rs anil constellations within a narrow belt. Opposite each star was tho time of its making its appearance —hour and min ute. The watchman says his watch is a line time-keeper. He has recently im proved it somewhat. The slip of p per now runs on two small rollers that are placed in a small box, which has a slid ing lid of glass. As tho n ght wears away and tho stars pass over, he now turns the crank of his watch and looks at the time marked by tho side of each. To wind up is watch he runs the tape ba k upon the initial roller. Virginia (Nev.J Enterprise. —The Pci iiti'tc American says that in this cotm ry more hoi ers explode in es lab'islmiouts '.hat use light fuel than in any other class of manufactories.