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VOL. V.-NO. 24. CONTENTMENT. the talk of a shirt. <. lies the head that wears a crown,” 1 Tboiigh you or I, my friend, will scarce be- That be who claims both riches and renown T Can ha'® just cause to grumble or to grieve. However this may be. the story' rocs That in ihe olden time a mon irch grand, Oppressed w th real or imagined woes, VSught out the oldest savant in the land. “Ibou msn of science,” said the unhappy -Whoconjures gold from sordid bits of Or tells each one what future years will bring* By planets' aspect, at his date of birth- With all my fame, my power and wealth, 1 find . . There something lacks, so if you can but Where I may buy contentment, peace of A primely’ portion shall be thine this day.” “Sire,” said the sage, “the boon your high ness craves Is alti-get her foreign to my lore— Not one which may be dug from dead men s VOS* Nor wrung by crucible from Mother Na ture's store. “Nineleagues away, however, dwells a wight. An humble cobbler, but an honest man; The wondrous shirt he wears by day and night. They say, contains a spell, and ho who can “Secure this garment gains content as well.” At early morn the King went forth alone, And, when the mellow shades of evening fell. He stood before the cobbler's door un known. Hesponsive to aknock, the poor man came, And, brief of speech, the bantering mon arch said: “A magic shirt, they tell me, thou dost claim— My shirt and twenty pornos forthine—is it a trade 1” ” His coarser vestment here ho drew aside, A matchless front of linen to display, ■Which, gem-bedecked and well with broid ery plied. But filled the humble craftsman with dis may. The wondering cobbler stared, then blush ing said: “ Indeed, most gladly would I do so. wer’t But possible, kind sir: we can not trade. Because—to tell the truth—l have no shirt.” —Texas Siftings. A HERO OF THE FLOODS. Nowhere throughout the overflowed river bottoms of the VV est did the de vastat ng foods of 1881 come upon peo ple with such calamitous swiftness, or cover the country to such depths, as in the valley of the far-reaching and snow fed Missouri. Long and b tterly.remem bered by hundreds, whose homes were swept away with scarce a moment’s warning, will be the icy overflow of that calamitous season. From all its numerous tributaries, from the trickling rills of the snow capped mountains to the broad and slogglish river Platte, the bands of ice, suddenly loosed, let forth watery torrents to swell the mightier river, till it poured down to the Mississippi with a destruc tive haste that has never been witnessed before. -•lany a tired farmer who went to his test a'ter a hard day’s work, and (beamed for a time, perchance, of P 1 0" ng crops and abundant harvests as he result of his labors, arose to find his aim a watery waste, the angry river already at his very door, and his live Mock wading and swimming distracted ly about amid floating masses of ice, •tushwood and the debris of other inundated farms above. In vain he sought to save his horses, his cattle, or ms household goods; it was often all e could do to save e.enhis wife and mile ones. abroad and well-cultivated farm t'l' lc r ‘ ebraska side of the Missouri nere lived a family named Wilson, in a lame house that stood in a grove of aige but scattered trees near the bank oi the stream. ltlvated Helds and well-fenced stock vd<- I!eS 'ri Xteu back across the inter lv sow l was Hark and extreme hiXS. tie a ’J d lyin « but little above <nr ii * f er . n,ark - on which account the sin always caused Mr - w 'l- es der: l b e uneas >ness. The old rev'tw i t£ he . reab °uts, however, had c weft I , h .' s tract t 0 l, e entirely ownev ’o and , with Mr - Wilson’s b con P ml en m’ ft 1 ’ as th ° years went gwing” d b ’ less ened his first mit foifn h d r Mr re wn e great flood of 1881 and at tlm\- SOU .'J’bolly unprepared, and iii u-f time of lts coniin S both he Sey hafoi^ 61 ?- a a bsent from borne. ‘ set a little reluctant about nearl/mft’ aat be river was swollen urgent bi m he hl " h ’ wat er mark, but child and ti S ° n cari * ed her youngest ' ,ld ’ al d there remained at home&n 'laughter^aft] f lftecn ’ and two th ßu hi l l d . man ’ Rudo a ipl S,X yearS> Wilh three mfll h i‘ d J’ elatlves living two or when the ft back from the nver, and left the house 8 Siu d °u at ni g h t he was goimr t Henr y that he w,, ’ild be^back-IM B®® 8 ®® folks,” and The hr.v 1 ten 0 clock. •lone of anftlft B ft rs had been left not afraid before. 'I hey were "’clock, to sleon « Wen o to bed b ’’ nino n-n wili. ep 80und b’» as such child aWOk® thenext niorn "iudow and th lV Un peepin « in 3t bis ca k'd to Ru ( i nl 1 t^ nin£ -’; .out of bed he the habit of ?ft aS ft ,ather Was in not answer g ' But Huctolph did chores." 6 thoutm® rl' P and doin f- r the ’Peaking alouf j, Hcnry; and then ’ r emendou s ft ■ h t aid: “What a this morning u” g th , e river makes •round u j_ ng " K sounds as if it was all >■' S’.o"Zh? a 1 i e „'' e il l,e ‘,d ** •“ l» bi. -uftow u““k! m 4 ,h “” Ultillon Stews. Stouter hearts than his might have quailed at the scene which met his eyes. Everywhere was water—‘a turbid, black, tumultuous flood dashing up against the trunks of the great trees, flooding the stock-yard fences completely out of sight. Logs, boards and great cold looking cakes of white ice, even the bodies of dead cattle, were swept furiously on. The heads only the heads and horns -of some of their own cattle could be seen here and there, as the poor creatures swam feebly to and fro. Looking down in frightened awe from the open window, the lad saw that the delving, guttering current had already attacked the foundation of the house, which stood considerably higher than the cattle yards, and that the door steps below were under water. As the danger of the situation dawned upon him, the lad’s terror grew. Again and again he shouted to Rudolph; but there was no response save the rush and roar of the river. Then he ran to the room of little Jen nie and Izah, who had already been awakened by his shouts. With fright ened sobs the children clung to their brother, scarcely daring to look out up on the fearful scene about them. ‘‘Where is Rudolph? Where is Ru dolph?” they sobbed. Henry soothed them as best he could, and leaving them at the head of the stairway he went below to see how high the water had risen. To his increased alarm he found that the kitchen floor was already covered, amj. that the muddy water was pouring in through the cracks about the door. It was risin r fast—had risen even since he first looked out upon it. Then lor a few moments the boy’s courage almost deserted him; he trem bled violently and the tears came into his eyes. “O father! father! why ain’t you here?” he cried out. Then the crash of a huge ice-cake against the door aroused him. Young as he was he realized that the house m ist soon be swept away if the water continued to rise, an I almost fiercely wiping away hs tears, he tried to think of some means by whjch he might save his little sisters and himself. Through the kitchen w ndow he saw the trunk of the great elm beneath which stood the grindstone, only a few feet from the broad doorsteps—a huge tree, four or five feet in diameter. The waters were dashing against its massive trunk. That, at least, seemed proof against their utmost strength. The old elm! The old elm!” he cried. “If we could only get up among the big limbs!” And then he formed his heroic plan amt proceeded to put it into execution. The elm had great outstretching branches, one of the largest of which extended across a corner o' the kitchen roof, which was nearly flat and easy of access from a window in the second story of the house. Henry had often climbed out there and mounted the branch, from which he could ascend nearly to the top of the tree —a dizzy height however, which he seldom at tempted. “The flood can’t dig the old elm out,” he thought. “It’s stood there too long.” But little Izah and Jennie! he feared for them. It was as much as he himself dared do to climb the tree, and he feared the little girls would grow dizzy and fall into the rushing water beneath. The brave boy thought of all this, and solved the problem in a manner that speaks well both for his courage and his invention. Wading through the water on the kitchen floor, he reached the wood shed and there procured his mother’s clothes-line, also a coil of larger rope and an old door, besides a number of loose boards which stood in a corner. Carrying these up-stairs, where the lit tle girls stood crying and calling for “ papa and mamma,"’ he put them out on the kitchen roof. “Stop crying, girls,” he exclaimed, cheerily; “stop your crying. Pa and ma will be here as soon as they can get a boat, and I’ll take care of you t ! ll they come. We’re going to get up in the big elm and build us a house up there and take up victuals, 'The water never will take that old tree away, and we can live up there like squirrels.” The energetic lad now sped about the house to complete h s preparation for their strange change of abode. Even little Jennie, the younger sister, caught something of his courage; ami both the girls ran about helping in whatever way they could. Some loaves of bread, a bucket of doughnuts, together with dried beef, a smoked ham, and several woolen blankets were laid out on the kitchen roof. Then Henry bound the clothes line about his waist and climbed on the great branch, and thence up to the large limbs above, to a height of some twenty feet above the rushing waters. Selecting a spot where two limbs branched o V parallel with each other, he now lowered one end o' his rope to the sisters, for the old door and boards. Before climbing up he had instructed them what’to do and how to do it; and in a very short time the boards, the door and the coils of rope were hauled up one after another, and securely fastened. The door and boards were t hen placed on the parallel branches and tied with the rone; and in this manner a small floor, or platform, six or eight feet i square, was laid, large enough for all three to sit or lie on. It did not take long now to draw up the food and blankets: but there still re mained for the lad the harder and more perilous task of hoisting up the little girls to his airy platform. He had reserved the longest and strong est rope for this purpose, and looping it in the middle over a limb and letting the two ends .‘all to the roof, ho do- DALTON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 3, 1883. ’ scended and tied an end firmly beneath the arms of both Izah and Jennie in turn. I o climb back to his old position was but the work of a moment. Then came the real work. Izah was a plump little girl, and Jennie was still heavier, though not as old. They were fright ened and screamed considerably, but he hauled them up, one after the other, safely on to the plat orm. Meanwhile the wild rushing waters were steadily rising and had now nearly reached the kitchen window-sills. Still larger cakes of ice were driving ponder ously along among the trees; occasion ally one ground against the elm, giving it a heavy, jarring bump, or struck the walls of tlie house with a force that made the timbers crack. '1 he little girls trembled with fear; and now that the excitement of climb ing into the tree was over, despair again seized upon them. In vain Henry tried to quiet their fears. Great sobs would we l up in spite of their childish efforts to be brave. It was in truth an appalling situation. Faster poured the ever-rising Hood; and now the ice-cakes and great drift-logs Were smashing in the lower window s. Nothing was left of the stock-yards, sboils and barn: but here and there some of the wretched cattle still kept their heads above water; and more dis heartening than everything else were the poor creatures’ mournful lowings. There was no help for them. Their drowning was but the question of an hour or two; everything was going down beneath the black rolling torrent. And well might the children feel thank ful if even the great elm withstood the battering of the ponderous ice-cakes which came grinding in among the scattered trees of the grove. Henry’s heart almost failed him. It required his best efforts to keep from breaking completely down and giving way to his fright and grief- But mas tering these terrors at length, he earnestly set to work to make every th'ng upon the. platform secure, lie felt, too, that he ought to save the bed ding and the most valuable of the household furniture: for he saw that the most of it might be hung upon the limbs of the elm, if only he had dared to de scend after it into the shattered and rocking building. But the creaking and groaning of the timbers, commingling with the hoarse gurglings of the water, appalled him. The house seemed on the point of being swept away; and sadly he watched it heave and sw r ay as each fresh mass of ice came plunging against it. Fearing to trust the little sjsters upon the frail platform unsupported, he tied them securely to limbs above, leaving the ropes slack enough to allow of their moving about. Once, for a moment, he almost made them smile by calling them his “Lttie ponies picketed out to grass.” He even tried to tell them stories, and kept courage in their little hearts by the assurance that “pa and ma” would soon come and take them away in a big boat. Thus the hours wore on. The house still stood, but the waters crept higher and higher, till at noon the river ran nearly even with the tops of the win dows. Still the old tree gave no evi dence of yielding; and at length the pangs of ’ hunger making themselves felt, they ate a hearty meal in spite of their strange and almost desperate situ ation. The afternoon passed. Once they thought they heard distant shouts; but the tops of the trees prevented them from looking oil" clearly. Night drew on: and still the house stood, wonder fully, as it seemed to Henry. As night closed darkly in. the little g’rls cried themselves to sleep, pillow- ] ing their heads in the lad’s lap: and thus through all that long and tedious night, never once closing his own eyes in slhep, he sat and held them. Not long after dark Henry heard a terrific crash, and indistinctly saw the house melt away amidst the mad waters beneath him. When at last day dawned there was not a familiar landmark to be seen save the trees; an I many of the smallest of these had been broken down by the masses of ice. It was a bitt r awaken ing for little Izah and Jennie; and it was long before Henry could again ac custom them to the terrible dreariness of their situation. But help came shortly after daybreak. Even before the pangs of hunger had brou<d»'v t-.vm to thins ot oreaKiaw, cheery voices were heard shouting from the river above. The neighbors had espied them on their platform, through the lea less branches. . It was a strange ami one that would have inspired less resolute hearts to attempt their rescue. The young, anxious face- expectantly looked out over the dreary waters, and watched with hope and delight the etloits ni.ik ing to save them. It was an hour that they never would forget. Cold and hungry, but safe and hap py, the gallant boy and his little charges were taken aboard a boat manned by the faithful Rudolph and several other young men, who had worked with energv, but in vain, on account of the floating ice, to reach them the dayjbefore Mr. and Mrs. Wilson were delayed longer than they had expected; and not returning till evening of that day, they learned nothing of the danger to which the children had been exposed till after they had seen them safe at the house of a kind neighbor. — ErunSclin Cdlkins, in I'uuth's —I he flower mania to <k an acute form with a Philadelphia belle, who ap eared at a ball with eight bouquets, “be arried two, and the test were held bv a maid, who stood in an alcove and ibamzed posies from time to time with i her mistress.— Corns. This very common failing in the horse is so well known, that any de , scription of them is quite unnecessary. , It would, however, be absurd to say that they are of little consequence, but just as absurd to reject such a horse because he had them. He may have very ex tensive corns, and yet be always sound on them: or very minute ones to the e y e < yet be seriously inconvenienced and lamed by them. Hundreds of horses have corns without any one sus pecting it, and as long as a horse re mained sound, or nearly so, the fact might never he known. If he becomes lame, and his feet a e inconsequence of , it carefully examined, the searching kni e lets the owner or somebody into the secret. That becoming known, the foot properly put to rights, and with a proper shoe put on, the horse probably goes sounder than he has for months ; past. If a horse has corns, the princi pal thing to be looked at is not so much the soreness ot them, or how far he may even go lame on them, but the kind of ; food he has. If he has a good wide, or, ; in more stable phrase, open heels and the wall or cru-t is strone, so as to af ford good nail hold, we have very little , fear o’ corns, for such a foot will al ; low the means of taking off pressuer from them. They will often, in such a i ease, hold out a pros, ect of dire, or, if not, of such palliative as amounts to • nearly as good an effect; that is, feeling t no inconvenience front them. If, how ; ever, the heels are narrow, it is alm st inti ossible to prevent the great aggra- • vation < f the disease, namely, pressure. • We may even in such a case put away i super pressure, that is, pressure from the sh e i n Ihe affected parts; but then there will remain what is termed lateral '> pre>sur' , which wi 1 be Let’.v cen the bars and the heels cr crust < f the foot. These ; bars are intended by nature to act as props, keeping the heels at their proper distance apart, and are usually left, say an eighth of an inch, or more, ab >ve the ! surface of the sole of the foot. When we say cut away the bars, which in corn case, is often done, it only means they are so much low ered as to be on a level i with the sole; but as the corn is seated ■ below thi-, it will become evident we cannot, crat least dare not, cut the bars away deep enough to prevent pre sure between them and the heel, which, if in 1 close affinity (which is the case in nar row heels) is very great; in fact, the corn is in a kind of natural vice, whose almo t acute angle presses it on either side. A horse with corns and such heels should not be bought by any one [coking for a good horse; he will rarely be sound three days together; he will be more or less lame if he is not worked at all, and work will lame him further from the soreness and inflammation it occasions. But should the foot be good and cool, the horse in work, and sound, he may safely be bought, however ex tensive the appearance of the corns may be; for should even a little tender ness or soreness be perceived after un usual work on hard roads, keeping the feet in war.n water a few hours for a day or two, *,d a small dose of physic, w.ll set all right again. In c ses where soreness comes on from corns, it the feet are good, we generally know the worst, and its rem edy. Su h lameness is not, like failing of the sinews, 1 kely to be permanent, or end in helplessnsss. On the con trary, with care there is no such danger; but every prospect of ihat care being recompensed by a comparative or total soundness of the horse, or, to say the least, his freedom from lameness. 1 Corns, be they of a better or worse de- I scription. Will be found to affect a horse ! more or less in accordance with the pur , pose he is wanted for.— Prairie Fanner. Saved by His Scissors. Th, editor carries a beautiful slip of paper when he travels. He shows it to the suave conductors and they all ad mire it. It has the editor’s own name on it, written in his verv best Sunday go-to-meetin’ style. That, is what the conductors particularly like to see, and they like it so much that they want him to write it again ip exactly the same fine style. The other day the editor exhibited the beautiful chirography, and the con ductor as usual requested him to dupli cate it in another place. The editor knew he had never written in that stylo before and never should again, but he did his level best. The conductor shook his head. “Don’t correspond."’ he muttered. “Best I can do,” said the editor. “Do you suppose I can dash oft 500 pages per day and keep up the Piercerian system of penmanship? Do you -up pose I can write like that with these cars of yours banging away at my el bow?” “Don’t correspond,” repeated thecon ductor, ominously. “Do you imagine I’m not the editor of this paper?” asked the editor, drawing out a gilt-edged card and a copy of the News. “May be a sub,” suggested the con ductor. , , “Do 1 look like a sub?” inquired the editor, indignantly, pointing to his dol lar diamond shirt-studs and finger ring. “But 1 can prove my identity,’ he added, with a chuckle of satisfaction. He whipped out a bright pair oi scis sors and commenced slashing up that newspaper into articles at such a i ate that in two seconds the whole paper paper would have been converted into C °“Stop! That will do,” exclaimed the I ue Xme left. ’ ’ I That Abominable Ladles’ Hat. A great deal of space has been taken up in the papers denouncing the style of ladies’ hat that shuts out so mu h landscape They are. indeed, a first class nuisance, particularly in churches, theaters, and other places of popular amusement. These bats, besides being adorned with enough plumes and feathers to lit out a hearse, are loaded down with a large bird. After awhile we suppose the ladies will wear dead cats, or a second-hand rut, fora change. To the theater goer, the big ladies’ hat, or rather, the big hat of the lady, is a perpetual source of rage, particularly if the hat is just in front of him. In order to see what is being perpetrated on the stage ho must crane his neck to the right, and just about the time he :s becoming interested she leans over to whisper something very important to her right-hand neighbor, and once more the unfortunate man thinks he is looking at an ostrich. He gets a crick in his neck trying to see the stage over her left shoulder, so she his noo 'ca ion to shut oft" his view from that side, for he sinks back in despair and into his re served seat, for which he mulcted him self in a dollar and a quarter. After the pain in his neck has fled, the applause of the audience arouses h m to the fact that he is not getting the worth o his money, so he assumes an almost erect position to look over the a'oresaid os trich, and just about the time he obta'ns a glimpse of the hero taking he scalp of the victim, or pressing the form of the rescued maiden to his shirt-bosom, a dozen men behind him yell out: “Down in front ” He drops into his dollar and a quarter reserved seat, an I , he is more reserved than the seat during the rest of the performance. There should be a regulation by which all the women with big hats be placed in seats, one behind the other, so they may learn to appreciate how pleasant it is to pay a dollar and a quarter of hard-eui ed lucre for the privilege ot looking at the remains of an ostrich for two or three mortal hours. We have never heard of but one in- ’ stance where a man who was sitting be hind one of those abominable lad os’ hats ever got the advantage of the wear er of said hat. She wore a hat that was almost as large as the national debt, t 'lhe unfortunate man might have as ■ well been down in a cellar, as far as see j ing the performance on the stage was concerned. The gentleman eaned over and informed the lady that her hat pre vented several persons in the rear from witnessing the performan e, and a<ke I her to pie tse remove her hat. She told him snappishly to mind his own affairs. She was not a very ni e lady, anyhow. I The gentleman did not reply, but ho put on his own hat. At this outrage on the audience, a dozen gentlemen calle I out, “takeoff that hat.” The wearer of the vast hat supposed her hat was meant, so she got up and indignantly flounced out ot the I uilding. 'I he gen tleman had removed his hat in tiie mean • time, and had a clear view of the stage during the entire performance. 7’:,. as Siftings. _ An Old Contention Bone. Gibraltar is constantly being strength ened, both by new works and by im proved guns in place of the old ones. A 100-ton Armstrong breech-loader was brought here from Woolwich two days ago, and another is expected before Ihe end of the mouth. From 5,000 to 0,000 men are constantly stationed here. At present the force consists of four regi ments of infantry and one ot artillery, and as much vigilance is (ji#played by the military as if a state of War existed with their easy-going neighbors of Spain. Between the possessions of the two coun tries is a piece of flat, sandy soil, about 1,500 yards in length and the same in width,’known as the “neutral ground,” on either side of which the English and Spanish sentries have been at their posts within sight of each other ever since the year 1701! — N. —A new method ot reducing corn to meal is now in operation at the West, which, it is said, seems likely to super sede the old-fashioned mill-stones. The corn passes over a series of cylinders provided with fine steel points,revolving rapidly against fixed knives, each set finer than the one preceding. The meal produced is exceedingly fine, there is claimed a saving of fifty per cent of power, and the machinery is sp.id to be less expensive than burr-stones.—A". F. Post. —Carefully conducted experiments have demonstrated the fact that sea soned wood, well saturated with oil when put together, will not shrink in the driest weather. Wheels have been known to run many years, even to wear ing out the tires. Very many dollars might be saved annually if this practice were adopted. Boiled linseed oil is the best for general use, although it is now known that crude petroleum on even old wheels is of great benefit.— Prairie Fanner. —A blind man in Newark, N. J., carries on a retail cigar business with out the aid of a clerk. Ho makes change perfectly, keeps track of the various kind of stock, and is reckoned a clever euchre player. “1 have picked a certain number of pin-holes, he said, “in certain places on the cards, and by sliding m v fingers over them 1 find out instantly what each cardis.” “When you order a new covering i< r vonr parmn'd, of a particular Should always give the shad., my ki / it 1 / j “•••‘ ,l> 1 ...» /' Sc Vvims College TERMS: SI.OOA TEAR HUMOROUS. i —-“And what do you call that?" asked the inquisitive visitor, pointing to a mutilated statue “That is a torsi,,’’ replied the sculptor. “ H’m,” mut tered the i. v., “ but how did it become torso?” He was tenderly kicked out —An article entitled “Howto Wash the Baby” is going the rounds of the press. I’ersons who read it will be sur prised to learn that the infant swashed with water, but is not run through a wringing machine and hung out on the line to dry.— Norristown Herald. —“1 am sorry to inform you,” said a num to an Arkansas gentleman, “that your son has been killed in a balloon ascension.” "How?” asked the gen tleman. “Well, you see, he went up with the professor and the balloon dropped suddenly and killed both of them "’ “So it was the descension that killed him? My friend, when you comj into this neighborhood with a piece of information, give it straight.”—Arkan . sas Traveler. —Wee Johnnie was riding on the ears with his mother and dropped on the floor one of the peanuts he was eat ing. After he had finished the others he began to climb down to get the orm on the floor, but his mother stopped him. saying that he could not have it. lie knew that his mother would not change her mind, and he sat st ill in si lence for several minutes. But he could endure it no longer, and soon a piti ful little voice piped out: “Mother, can’t I get down on the floor and look at that peanut?” —Rev. George T. Rider, in his North American llevieio article on journalism, says: "A latter day parvenue.its ephem eral flutter, its perpetual coming and going, its very irridescence transeiency and unresting liux constitute its ratsow (I etre. * * * Its illumination is cohl. auroral, spectral, as of the cere brum.’ (If course; to be sure; cer tainly. We never said it wasn't and we shall anxiously look for a solution of Mr. Rider’s puzzle in the next n nnber of the llcview. We could never guess it.— Norristown Herald. —Charley B: Do we need a correspond ent al Des’Moines? No, < barley, wo do not. Des Moines is the only place where we do not need a correspondent. We joyfully wallow in correspondence from every other place on this broad continent, but we cannot have a corre spondent at Des Moines. An early flame of ours lives in Des Moines. We are parted now forever. It was not tha our love cooled, or that she died xoung. No, Charles, the trouble we had with that love affair was not that she died young, but that her father didn’t. The bull dog likewise, was not at a'l tired. You see now why we have hallowed associations with Dei Moines which makes it painful to us to read correspondence from tint place.— Puck. Making Money With Money. j Ho was a sharp-featurred, shrew-eyed I old gentleman, and he sat in one of the I Boston police stations recently, listening attentively to a select assortment of yarns about counterfeiters, suggested by the ' newspaper mention of the numerous petty cases of this nature pending before tho United States District Court. “Well, s well,” he remarked finally, with a half s sigh for the degeneracy of these times, 3 “roguery isn’t what it used to be. lean ' remember when it took some brains to t make a good rascal. To work off tho bogus half-dollars, one dollars, fives and , so on for the genuine thing is all very >’ well in its way, but what do you think ' of a fellow who gave away square money • as counterfeit and made a little fortuvsoi ■ out of the business? Impossible? t no. When I was a detective, and J > <j. 3 not so many years ago, I came in co' .with just such a chap. You 11 fi B __ 1 facte of the case in the records. And the way horw.. «!’ S was this : He first sent out to fi postmasters and others an ingt.' Aa , , gotten up circular, in which be to supply them with a remarkably rate counterfeit $1 bill, merely a»*J curiosity. This would be tent to paid for when received by a good 31 bill, in case the receiver cared to keep it; otherwise it was to be returned. There were a good many responses to this circular, but the young man in stead of sending out bad bills, inclose genuine ones in his letters, and a.so a notice that he would be pleased tosup ply the same at S3O per hundred. Now the susceptible postmaster careful v ex amined the bill he had received, showed ! it to his friends, and, perhaps, the cashier ! of the town bank, and everyone, of course, | pronounced it genuine. 8° not a tew : rural parties thought that 100 of them . would bo very handy in hard times, am the requisite S3O was forwarded. - i> that was always the last heard of the S3O. To be sure, some of the bait money was lost, but not much. The victims could not bring a complaint against the swin dler without criminating themselves and so he flourished for some time. But at , length the United States authorities got ■ hold of the matter and arrested the prom i ising young scoundrel on an indictment > for counterfeiting. What wm his de ! tense ? Why, he merely called attention i to the fact that he had not counterfeited at all; he had dealt only in f Mi nme bills. The court could not hold him. Subse quently, however. I believe that he was arrested and convicted, but on an entire ly different indictment. -Several ceived in cloves, made ' found to soaked mthe of soft wood, stamed, a theul «n od-'r. ewence of c *° v ™£ g Zanzibar, but They were importer where Zrom W