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tlailc Conntii stw§ TRENTON, GEORGIA. Belva Lockwood says that woman is improving intellectually thirteen per cent, faster than man. 'There are eight mission ships now cruising in the North Sea, each a com bination of church, chapel, temperance hall aud dispensary. Alaska cost the United States $7,000,- 000, and the Fur Seal Company has already paid our Government over $8,000,000 for the privileges it enjoys of talcing seals from the Territorial waters. The new Duchess of Marlborough has set out to make Blemheim Castle spick and span, and was astounded the other day. to find that the mending of its roof in a trustworthy manner would cost just 150,000 of her good American dollars. It is tolerably clear now, says the New York Sun, that the English harvest will yield less than 55,00), 000 bushels. European crops are fifteen per cent, under the average, but India, Australia aud Africa give a goodsurplu3. Prices have advanced one to two cents a bushel. The Washington correspondent of the New York World say 3: “A movement is on foot among Southern capitalists to secure a good grade of English colonists. A Southern capitalist told me that he be longed to a syndicate which was offering inducements to English manufacturers to come to the best districts of the South with their entire plants. Especial in ducements are to be offered to cotton spinners.” This is reported as the greatest water melon year the Georgians have had in a decade. A Savannah paper reports the number of carloads shipped from the State at 7055. 'The average number of melons per carload is 1100, making about 7,800,000 melons already shipped. The estimate for th ; remainder of the season is 35,000, making the total crop, beside home consumption, 7,835,000 melons, the total v alue of which is placed at $1,500,000. Captain Yangele, in an interview at Brussels, Belgium, stated that he be lieved that he himself was the mysterious “White Pasha” reported by the natives as being in the Bahr-el-Ghazel Province of Africa. The Captain has just re turned from the Congo country, and says that at the beginning of the year he had conflicts with the natives in the neighborhood of that province. ( aptain Yangelc’s description would answer to that of the “White Pasha.” The report that two German bankeis are about to purchase the Island of Ilerra is creating a sensation in Paris. The al leged bankers are said to be German naval officers in disguise, whose design is to familiarize themselves, by the aid of local pilots, with certain channels and currents, a knowledge which would be of immense value in the event of a war between France and Germany. The Island of Herm lies two and a half miles from Germany in the English Channel. Tlte Electrical Review quotes Professor Asa Grey as saying that there is ground for the belief prevalent in Europe that lightning strikes the Lombardy poplar in preference to other trees. He says an old fashioned I.ombardy poplar, by jts height, its complete covering of twigs and small branches and by its sappy wood, niakesa capital lightning rod and a cheap one. To make it surer the tree should stand in moist ground or near water, for wet ground is a good con du tor and dry a poor oue. It is recom mended to plant a Lombard}' poplar near the house and another near the barn. A large part of ihe lira ilian empire is ready for republicanism, declares the American C dti ator. Dom Pedro, the present Emperor, ha 3 been a father to his people. lie has been largely in fluential in abolishing slavery, and for the good he has done the empire will not be disturbed in his day. But he will have no successor. After his death republicanism will be the natural order of things. Brazil has enormous re sources and a territory that may possibly be subdivided into a number of govern ments. In time South America will be gathered under a federative system, like that of the. United Status. Says the Detroit Free Press: ‘ ‘The English consumption of wheat per year is 200,000,000 bushels. The annual production of wheat in England will average from 75,000,000 to 80,000,000 bushels. This year it will not be more than 50,000,000 bushels. It is an ill wind that blows no one some good. The American farmers in the Northwest have long suffered the hardships that follow a low price in wheat. Nearly all the mar gin of profit has been consumed in ele vator and transportation charges. If the English wheat crop this year really sustains the eatimates that have been made it will be a season of re'oicing for ’the American wheat grower.” THANKSGIVING. When the trees are gray and bare, And the snow is in the air, And the frost is in the sod, And the yellow golden-rod, Like a fading sunset light, Withers in a blackening blight; And the dead leaves to and fro Whirl about as the north winds blow— Then comes the old Thanksgiving time, When hearts in festal meetings chiraa. When gay youth no longer sings The clear carols of its springs, And old age with stealthy tread Up behind us steals, to shed Winter snows upon the head; Yet with age’s frost and snow Brings a light whose steady glow With an inner radiance scorns Thoughtless youth’s best nights and morns, Then comes the old Thanksgiving time, And awakes a loftier rhyme. Then, for aii that builds up life With its changing calm and strife What I was—the given base Upon which I now can place What poor figure I may have wrough Out of all my life and thought— For the priceless providence That hath made each nerve and sense Of my boyhood but the germ Of a growth more full' and firm— For the blest inheritance Of my parents’ blood—for chance Even, and fate and circumstance— For the joy and sorrow turned Into hope—for wisdom learned From my folly—faith from doubt:- All within me or without That bath helped the spirit weak Its best life and truth to seek:— For all this, and more that, blind, I cannot recall to mind— Thanks on this Thanksgiving day I would render as I may:— On this dull gray day when earth Hath no smile of spring or mirth, And the dead leaves to and fro Whirl about as the north winds blow. Christopher P. Cranch. THE UiNPRO BATED WILL y A THANKSGIVING STORY. _ OOR as John Austin wakes >k e :Jj *|was made more | desperate by the return of the fa | ther of his wife f*. N *j (-believed to be r y dead) who came £°“ e tc \ th ?“ r/Z/LrW-Jt l.\ iJS: 4r, broken in health rnfflySSSw"*** ‘ :( i ueer ” man, as the peo- P le of Beachton j jff %T-\ p called him. ss? .2A By-’'* When Jane K V. Austin was a lit ' tic girl the now old man had left her mother and her *elf to battle with the world. No one knew why or whither he had gone. For twenty-five years nothing had been heard of or from him. In the mean time the mother had died, the daughter married, and several little olive branches had come to twine around the hearts of the father and mother and make the struggle for bread still more imperative. For half a dozen years the Aid man lingered rather than lived, apparently purposeless save to wander in the woods iround the little inland village in sum ner, shiver over the tire in winter and :onstantly mutter to himself. Then he juietly faded out from among living md was laid to rest in the desolate jraveyard. Of where he had been during his long ibsence he never talked; what he had ione was never known. His reappear mce was as sudden and unexplained as lis departure. He came on foot and done, and the only thing certain about lim was his poverty. The expense of" his “keeping” had )een a serious drawback to the prosperity >f the daughter and her husband; those jonnected with his last sickness and ieath heavy. A single dollar added to ;he outlay of any man whose only cap tal is his hands and only income is from laily toil is no light affair. But a week previous to Thankgiving the funeral had taken place—used up ; the last dollar of ready money and left a debt to be paid. In the flickering light of the fire husband and wife sat sadly discussing the outlook, and gloomy in deed it was. The last of the little brood had been tucked into bed, the fierce wind of the Northern Winter was howling without, the stars shone brightly but coldly, and the low, heavy banks of clouds gave notice of a fierce snowstorm, ahd the poor know but too bitterly what that means for them. “John,” said his wife, after a long si lence and with a heavy sigh, “to-mor row will be Thanksgiving, and the chil dren are reckoning upon a good dinner.” “Yes,” he replied, with his head bowed and tears in his eves, “but the good Lord only knows where it is to lome from. The care and death of your father —1 don’t say it complaining, wife, for you have repaid it a thousand times —has not only taken the last cent, but left us a debt it will take months to pay. However, the darlings shan’t be disap pointed if I can help it, and if you can manage the pies and little things I'll see what can be done about getting some thing in the shape of meat. Heigh ho! what a miserable thing it is to be poor sud never have any money when you need it inost.” “Yes, dear, it is hard: but we have health, strength, and the little ones, and that is very much to be thankful lor.” “And many a rich man would give more than the sum necessary to make us comfortable for our appetites and the sound sleep we enjoy.” Little knew they of the storm that rocked their little cottage and drifted the snow around it. But with the morn ing light they saw it and with a sinking of heart. It was as a death blow to the plans John Austin had made for their Thanksgiving dinner. He had indulged in no fanciful dreams of turkey and a liugo chicken pie, of salad and jelly. They were Vs far beyond his means as oyster pate, terrapin, canvas-back and champagne. A practical man, he had thought out uo sumptuous or elaborate menu, but had resolved to be up early, take his gun, go to the woods and see if he could not “knock over” something for a Thanksgiving feast. Under ordinary circumstanceshunting would have been recreation and one seldom indulged in, for necessity com pelled uninterrupted labor. “Whew!” he whistled under his breath as he saw how deep was the snow, strong the wind End freezing the sir. But it wss Th&nks* giving and the children must not be dis appointed. So, after building a rousing fire and bringing in plenty of wood, he kissed his wife, promised to be back as early as possible, took his gun and started ur>on the uncertain quest, for game, like money, has a perverse fashion of being out of the way when most wanted. Tramping along over the unbroken fields and in the full sweep of the icy blasts, he was glad to reach a little grove where he could find shelter and regain his breath. 116 seated himself upon a stump and to him came the greatest temptation of his life. In a tree, within easy shot, roosted numerous turkeys. Hatch d from the eggs of wild ones and with the distinctive feather marks, it would be the easiest thing to secure one and pass it off, if seen, as legitimate game. Great fat, luscious fowls they were, and the vision of how happy his wife and children would be in the eating arose before him. Almost before he was aw r are of the act his gun was raised and aim taken. Then conscience whispered: “They are not yours, John Austin,” and turning his steps away he answered mentally if not vocally: “No, and I’m not going to be a thief, even for a Thanksgiving dinner.” Pushing on again over the broad meadow he struck the road—an unbroken one now—that led to the forest where game was likely to be found, and was passing the log cabin of a family even poorer than his own, for the husband was lying very ill. He glanced up at the chimney—the most natural thing to do upon such a day—aud saw no smoke. Either the poor man must be dead or the supply of wood had given out. In stantly his own situation was forgotten and he was not long in finding out that his latter surmise was correct. “Don’t worry,” he said to the anxious wife, gathering and bringing in all the wood he could find, “I’ll run over to ne’ghbor Sampson’s and borrow his team and get you a load. There's lots of dead timber on this land, and he isn’t the meanest man in the world by a long shot.” To accomplish his purpose he was forced to retrace his steps and again look at the temptation of the turkeys. Certainly no birds ever looked so and they stretched out their necks an gobbled at him in the most fashion and as if they knew what was passing in lbs mind. “Yes, John,” said the farmer in an swer to his request, “take the oxen aDd get as much wood as you cau haul. But you will have to cut it. Everything down must be snowed under except it may be some xptten stuff that is of no account.” * “All right, but you will have to lend me an axe. I started to find some game fer dinner, but now the children will have to get along with whatever their mother can manage to fix up.” “Well, here’s an axe, and you had better leave your gun here till you come back. I’d like to use it if you can tell me where I will find my flock of turkeys the tame-wild cues I mean. I believe they know it’s Thanksgiving and have run away.” Austin told h’m where the birds were to te found, thought of how little there would be upon his owu table, and hastened upon his errand of mercy hastened as fast as an ox team, discon tented with being out such a cold morn ing and wading through such deep snow, could be persuaded to go. Tramping along after the sled Austin at, last, reached the woods and looked for a convenient tree to “fall.” An oak stood near and a tap of his ax convinced him it was hollow. That suited him exactly. He could easily cut off a coup e of logs, roll them upon the sled and re duce them to burnable size afterward. A strong armed and willing-hearted man, he was not long in separating the trunk, drawing and unloading in front of the house of his sick friend. The poor wile thanked him heartily and said her brother had come and would do the chopping. “All right—no thanks,” he replied in his hearty way. “Hope your Thanks giving will be brigh.er than you antici pated. “Now I’ll get my gun and see what lean do for my own dinner.” He had gotten some little distance when the woman shouted: “You have forgotten your satchel, John Austin!” “Mine:” he questioned, returning. “Of course it is. You must have placed it in the hollow trunk and for gotten it. Anyhow it rolled out and here is your wife's name on it. Gracious, but it is marked plain enough.” In mute astonishment John Austin tootc up the satchel and brushed off the snow. It was a small affair, battered, worn, stained and (as he afterward said) might have come out of the ark. A piece of buckskin was looped through the handles and rudely marked: Mrs. Jane Austin, wife of Jofiu Austin and daughter of James Selfridge, Beachton, Pennsylvania, U. S.” lie choked down a great lump that had gathered in his throat, looked with the most stupid surprise at the woman, then at the satchel, and forgetting team, gun and game started homewmrd on a run. Bursting into the house he dropped hrca'hlessly into a chair, flung the satchel into the middle of the floor aud gasped oue the single word: “There!” “John Austin,” exclaimed his wife in the loudest key possible for her voice to reach and with the muscles of her face gathering for a storm, “aren t you ashamed of yourself to come home drunk, and on Thanksgiving? Take that nasty old thing out of doors. It’s a burning shame and a disgrace, and you a husband and father of a family,” and her apron was brought into requi sition to wipe away her tears. “It’s marked for you, Jane, and— where in heaven did you get that great turkey?” “Farmer Sampson brought it, and your gun, which you lost, and if the neighbors didn’t lake pity on us we’d starve,” was replied in very short sen tences and broken by sobs. “But Jane—" “Don’t ‘ lane’me. Take that misera ble, dirty thing out and crawl off some where and go to sleep. To think I should have lived to see the day—and— and we become objects of charity—and —and—having to be fed by the neigh bors,” and up went the apron again. “Mother,” broke in the eldest of tho hopefuls, whose curiosity had caused an investigation of the satchel, and who had spelled out the add:ess, ‘‘it’s your name, and such queer writing!” Thus reinforced John Austin explained that he had found it in a hollow log and suggested that it le opened. The wife looked dubiously at it for an instant and then, forgetful of auger and tears, •xclaimcd: JkS, *W\ ■ w' *‘lt is father’s writing. Open it as quick a 3 ever you cau.” He complied. The first thing he saw was a letter. It was written on coarse paper, unsealed, directed to his wife, and read: “All for my daughter Jane, wife of John Austin, forever and ever. James Selfridge. “Sounds like a will,” said the hus band, “and we’ll see what the old man has left.” Little packages tied up in buckskin were taken out, and each, when opened, disclosed gold, coined, du-t aud nug get®, evidently the savings of a miser miner, and explained why he had so much haunted the woods Overcome by their unexpected -fortune husband, wife and children gathered around the table upon which it had been piled, and laughed and cried together. The millions of merchant prince or rail way king was nothing compared to the few hundreds to them. Then came the natural fear of being robbed, and the wealth was hastily hidden away. They were too much excited to eeen disouss what they would do with it and were frigthened nearly into convulsions when a loud rap waS heard on the door and with it a command to open. It was only their neighbor Sampson with more good things, and as he sat warming his numbed hands and feet he told how good John had been as to the afflicted family. “And, John,” he said, “I saw and heard you when talking about my tur keys, and a man who could be thus Hionest under so great temptation will lOyer find a friend in Job Sampson.” iicfThen Austin and his wife unbosomed themselves, showed the gold, the letter and asked advice. It was judiciously given and with congratulation the farmer hurried away, happy at having done a good action. At a late hour for “country folks” theii dinner was eaten with hearts overflowing with thankfulness, and when the scuffed chldren were dreaming the wife stole behind her husband, put her arms around his neck and kissed him more warmly than since tho days of her courtship as she whispered: .j “To think I should accuse you of be ing drunk! And you giving up all hope of your own Thanksgiving dinner to help others! You dear old John.” N. B.—That will was never jirobated. A Runaway Couple. The night before Thanksgiving. 7 The Sorrow That Follows the .Toy. “Yes,” she said at breakfast table this morning, “I am glad Thanksgiving is over.” “Why?” he asked. “Because,” she replied, “because lean now begin reminding you that Christmas is coming, and that I need a new seal* skin sacque.” —Philadelphia Herald. A Song of Thanksgiving. I never had a sweet gazelle To glad me with its soft black eye— But I would love it passing well Baked in a rich and crusty pie, If I could have a bird to love And nestle sweetly in my breast, All other nestling birds above. The turkey—stuffed—would be that bird. On the Way to Thanksgiri.ig Services, A COLONY OF CONVICTS CURIOUS DITTDE WORLD DISCOV ERED INMID-OCEAN. Exiles of Ecuador Livin'* on a Walled Island A Ruler More Autocratic Than the Czar. On the largest of the Galapagos islands exists a curious colony. “The island is between six and seven hundred miles from the mainland of Ecuador,” said Prof. Lee, to a Lewiston <Me.) ~-onrn ul reporter, “almost under the equator. It is walled in with high volcanic rocks, and very difficult of access. Years ago the Ecuador Government planted a con vict colony on one of the islands, but the convicts revolted, killed ihe Gov ernor, and made their escape on a schooner. For a long time afterward the islands were uninhabited, and all of them are so today except Chatham, where we landed. Behind the walls of rock we found a fertile country, in a high state of cultivation. “About 150 persons make their home there and are governed by a shrewd and progressive man of the Spanish race named Cobos. He makss no claim to sovereignty, but his control seems ns ab solute as that of the Czar. His subjects are convicts from Ecuador. Years ago it appears, he was engaged in gathering orchilla, a kind of moss which is valua ble for the manufacture of dyes. lie get rich at this business, but 10-t his for tune through some transaction with the Government of Ecuador. Possibly using that as an argument, he asked lor and was granted this island of Chatham, the condition being that he should receive and care for the convicts sent thither from the mainland. This was perhaps ten or twelve years ago. “The colony has now a little world of its own, cut off from civilizatiou by hundreds of miles of ocean. Only now and then, at long intervals, has any vessel landed there, except the schooners owned by Governor Cobos, and the in habitants have, therefore, no means of escape. These people do not share their ruler’s progressiveness. They are an odd and rather unprepossessing lot. Most of them are natives of Ecuador and some probably half Indian. There was an English woman, also, on the island. She was only about twenty-live years old, with blue eyes and light hair, but as tough a specimen as i ever came across. The inhabitants are about equally divided between the sexes. They have an abundance of food, and in that climate the kind of dress to be worn and the amount of it are not subjects that trouble anybody a great deal. You can judge what sort of creatures they a e when you remember that they are the criminal classes of a population which at best i 3 backward in culture. “The Governor is the only person on the island who knows anything of the world. He has traveled somewhat, can speak English after a fashion and con trives to keep up within about six months of the times. In conversation he showed a pretty clear knowledge of affairs in Europe and America. Al though a monarch, in all essential re spects, this man acknowledges his de pendence on the goverment of Ecuador; but he rules his subjects as he pleases, aud, perhaps, somewhat tyrannically, for there are conspiacies constantly on foot against his life, and he has to main tain a miniature standing army. The currency of the island is made of sheet lead, with the value, the name of the Governor and the name of the island stamped upon each coin. “Seven prisoners of State were in durance while we were on the island, under charge of having plotted to take the Governor’s life during a recent fes tival. and to set up a new government. What punishment they were to receive was not definitely decided, but Cobos intimated that he should banish them to one of the other and desert islands at a distance, where they would be furnished with a little food for temporary use and a few tools, and left to shift for themselves. “The land in Chatham is under culti vation. Sugar cane is raised and rum made of it. Fruits, hides, mats, orchilla and other products are shipped in con siderable quantities to Guayaquil.” Trials of Rapid Firing Guns. A report has just been made to the War Office upon the exper.ments re cently carried out with the Maxim gun of COO and 800 yards, in comparison with fire from Martini-Henry rifles. At 000 fifteen men, all first or second class shots,fired ten volleys and made 52 per cent, of hits in 3 minutes, 3t> seconds, while the Maxim, firing the same num ber of rounds at the same targets, made 81.50 per cent, of hits in 2 minutes, 30 seconds. At 800 yards the results were: Martini-Henrys, 40.00 per cent, of hits in 3 minutes, 40 seconds; Maxim, 80 per cent, iu 1 minute, 30 seconds. The targets were arranged so that the volleys fired by the men were directed alter nately a quarter right and a quarter left, the intervals between the targets being 12 yards; the Maxim fired 15 shots al ternately on each target. Further ex periments are to be made at unknown distances, and as nearly as possible un der service conditions, at ranges between 1000 and 1200 yards; and on this occa sion the new service rifle, with dial sight, is to be tested. —Scientific American. Emin Pasha. All who have been reading recently about Stanley’s latest wanderings iu Africa, where he has probably been murdered by some of the wild tribes of the equatoiial region, have heard of Emin Pasha, who is a potentate of im portance in Upper Egypt. He is not an African of any race but is a German, a physician by profession, and by name Eduard Schnitzer. He was born in the province of Silesia, in 1840, studying finally in the University of Breslau, and graduating in the faculty of medicine. His first foreign service was iu Turkey, where he was a surgeon in the army. In 1870 be took service in the Egyptian army, where he assumed the cognomen “Emin,” the Faithful.” His career in Egypt has been quite distinguished, and places him in rank with such foreign adventurous spirits as Stanley, Gordon aud a few cithers. — Picayune. The Archduke Joseph of Austria is going to publish a dictionary of the Gypsy language, on which he is a well triinwn RillUuritv. THE GRAY FATHER. A tiny gir! want singing . Among the meadow flowers; Her father watched her bringing Her happy thoughtless hours. She never saw his features. She never knew his face. Of all unconscious creatures She had the joy and grace. Years passed!—her father brought her A jewol for her brow; She thought—and while she thought, her Gray father she saw now. But she was not so mirthful That father now she knew; Of grief she found old earth full, And she was older too. The father of that maiden, He is old Father Time, A parent heavy laden With more of prose than rhyme. No more you hear her laughter The flowering fields among; Her words forever after Are rather said than sung. —Keningale Cook, in Temple B I HUMOR OF THE DAY. A stowaway—The glutton. All for protection—Policemen. Our horticultural fathers—Poppies. A pointer ou pork — The pig's nose. Oriental calendar gastronomy—Eating dates. A call deposit—Talking into a phono graph. Man has his ups and downs—Er, yes— hic-ups! A friendly meeting—Gathering of Quakers. The Lick Observatory—The postage stamp window. The best way to get at the tongue of a bell is to peal it. Baseball clubs that have a “Jonah’* are easily whaled. Right kind of a girl for a restaurant — One that is “tasty.” All good swimmers are not belligerent, yet they strike out right and left. A criminal may not believe in his own guilt, but he is always open to convic tion. Make a man your traveling companion and you must put up with him. — Pica yune. When an office goes out to seek a man, it has to pick its way through crowds. — — Epoch. This Banana Trust will be nothing more nor less than a skin game. — Roche ter Post. Bomc belles captivate with artless heart; others with heartless art. — Mer chant Tra eier. The hen that hatched out a brood of seven roosters was very proud of her beautiful son-set. Speaking of pins, the most costly are the diamond pin aud the terrapin.— Pittsburg Chronicle. r People studying the language of Fin land have quite au exciting time at the Finnish. —Rochester Post. In Denmark, girls are trained to agri culture, but in this country ffiiey take more kindly to husbandry. A Philadelphia umbrella firm has sus pended, with nothing laid by for the rainy day.— Pitts-urg Chronicle. A fisherman will always be found reeling a great deal when the fishing is Hood. Perhaps it is the bait.— Poston Post. When young men and maidens go out canoeing together their thoughts are sailing to the port of canoeuiai fe licity. Photographer—“ Everything is ready. Please smile.” Kentuckian —“Thank you. I don’t care if I do.” —Areola Record. It hurts a mau just about as much to burn him in effigy as to have his shadow ou a stone wall butted by a goat. — Toledo Blade. “Yes,” said Mr. Ivnowitall, “that is Latin for ‘deep sea bass.’ Basso pro f undo was Julius C.isar’s favorite fish. ” Harper's Bazar. The Bee Line Railroad has 117 crooks in it. A bee which can’t fly straighter than that had better invent a compass. — Detroit Free Press. ‘Yes,” said Mr. Newpop, “I’m head of the firm down town, but when I’m at home nights I’m floor walker most of the time.” They tell us that “wah” is au Indian's most common expression of pleasure. And here we’ve been thinking that an Indian’s wah-whoo > meant bloodshed.— Binghampton Republican. Y'oung Mother (displaying baby)— “Isn't he a great noble leliow, Ma or V* Ma jor (anxious to please) —“Yes indeed, madam; why, he has got hands and feet on him like a hired man’s.” —New York Bun. Tommy —“Y'ou ought to see how much butter my step-mother puts on my bread.” Johnny—“l guess it’s some of this bogus butter, and she just trying it on you before she eats any of it herself.” —Fliegend Blaetter. Willie took the shiny musket By its muzzle, daintily; Stuffed the cold -steel down his throatlet, Toyed with trigger gracefully. Down went hammer on the caplet, “Up went Willie!” did you say* Not a bit; for gun not loaded Can not hurt a boy at play. —Time. Brown— “ Have you seen Robinson recently, Dumley?” “I hear he has been sick.” Dumley—“Yes; I saw him this morning.” Brown —“How is be.' Dummy—“By thunder, I forgot to ask him. I just said How are you, old man* and passed on.” — Time. In the spring the young man’s fancy l*g llt! J turns to thoughts of love: tha Through the summer days he wooetli lme lightsome turtle-dove; . , And when summer-tide is over, in the g e glow of autumn, , Home the maiden writes to popper, Deaie pa, at iast I’ve caught him. r —Bazar. The citizens of Lexington were much surprised on Tuesday morning I®’® ® find a placard on the public well " read: “Drink no water froni this it is full of frogs, by order of the WL • _ Mayor W. ». J.ester was sought Oj- » reporter to ascertain why he haao the well filled with frogs, but he Jecimeu vo answer.— Lesington (Ca.) Echo.