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Bade tally lias. TRENTON, GEORGIA. «■■■■■■■ .11 ■■ ■» “ ;-vj ■ .■■■»—!"!»■ ■'■■■—— g The nations of the world were never so busily engaged in getting ready for war. _____ Texas, as large as she is, has never yet had a Governor who was born within hei boundaries. The pinnacle of earthly wealth is said to be reached by John Rockefeller, the Standard Oil magnate. It is predicted that Indian Territory is destined to be the centre of the Ameri can sugar making industry. Florida has $12,000,000 invested in the orange business, and the sales this year were a fourth of that big sum. A philanthropic citizen of Harvey County, Kan., has planted three miles of peach trees along the public highway. Leading statisticians of England assert that more persons annually choke to death while eating in England than are killed on the English railroads. Every now and then the Czar gives out that Nihilism is dead in Russia. Ye* when he goes from St. Petersburg to Moscow it takes 50,000 troops to guard him on his journey. The announcement of the advent of the seventeen-year locust this season as usual gives point to the witticism that the in sect derives its name from the fact that it comes regularly for seventeen years in succession. We hope a San Francisco writer is cor rect in saying that the poorest patient to day can secure a hundred times better treatment than was accorded to Wash ington in his last brief illness, exclaims the New York Sun. The extraordinary growth of Volapuk in popularity is evidenced by the fact that its adherents are now supporting thirty-two monthly journals, while twice as many newspapers devote departments .tc the “universal” tongue. Joe Howard says the majority of the rich men of New York city are not edu cated, but their faculties are sharpened on the lines of money-getting. Their principal amusement outside of business is in devotion to horse flesh. Peter Laing, who is 104 yearn of age, has just been admitted to church member ship in Elgin, Scotland. He admits that he has been a little tardy in joining the church, but now that he has joined, he intends to go right in with the other young folks and do his share of active work. •* ' Says the New Y'ork Sun: “The knock ing out of liquor saloons having had such a depressing effect upon the sale of cheese, an interesting question as to what Is the connection between the two has been raised in the West, some persons ar guing that spirits create a taste for cheese, while others maintain that cheese create a thirst for liquor.” It is interesting to know, declares the New York Mail and Express , that oil running from bags suspended over hei bow broke the force of the waves and enabled the United States sloop-of-war Yantic to survive, though in a sadlj battered condition, the severe hurricam that it was her lot to meet on her brief and stormy cruise. Brigadier-General Drum, who has just been placed on the retired list, is believed to be the first private soldier that ever at tained the rank of Brigadier-General in the regular army of the United States. The New York Telegram in announcing ini* withdrawal from active service, says he “has had a long roll, but they have muffled him at last. Jle is on the retired list and his beat will be heard no more.” • The London Spectator pays this tributt to-the United States: “Her people are becoming the greatest nation in the world. It is probable that nothing short of. actual violence would now' induce any cation to attack her, while she could, if ■she pleased, almost ruin the commerce of any nation on the globe.” It predicts that there are children who may live to see the Republic with a population of two hundred millions. : The Atlanta Constitution says: “Here is a new difficulty in New York concern ing the mode of execution by electricity. It seems that most jurors are prejudiced against it, and they hesitate to find a man guilty of murder simply because they do not want him to suffer an unusual and perhaps a cruel punishment. So this scientific fad of the New York Legislature may result in the pon-conviction of a host of criminals who, under other cir cumstances, would have been condemned jto death.” GOOD TEMPER. There’s not a cheaper thing on earth, Nor yet one half so dear; ’Tis worth more than distinguished birth Or thousands gained a year. It lends the day a new delight, ’Tis Virtue’s firmest shield; And adds more beauty to the night Than all the stars can yield. It raakoth Poverty content. To Sorrow whispers peace; It is a gift from heaven sent, For mortals to increase; It meets you with a smile at morn, It lulls you to repose; A flower for peer and peasant born, An everlasting rose. A charm to banish grief away— To snatch the brow from care; Turn tears to smiles, make dulness gay, Spread gladness everywhere. And yet’tis sweet as summer dew That gems the lilly’s breast; A talisman for love as true As ever man possessed. What may this wondrous spirit be, With power unheard before— This charm, this bright amenity? Good Temper—nothing more! Good Temper—’tis the choicest gift That woman homeward brings, And can the poorest peasant lift To bliss unknown to kings. ONE MORE IMPORTUNATE, BY LOUISE STOCKTON. Martha Clarkson, the widow of a fish erman on the Jersey coast, told me the greater part of this story. It has always seemed to me full of significance, espe cially to women, who, more than men, lack the dramatic power of putting them selves into another’s place. For this rea son we fail to help each other as we might if we understood how the long un broken pull of dejection and misery wears out even the desire for better. If the rising sun renews only the monotony of deprivation, if it sets upon days made of negations, what avails the sun to us? There are those of us who can fight bet ter than we can endure, and by whom violent suffering is preferred to passive misery. And it would be well if we would understand how to go out and help the ones who are in this plight, knowing that the great fact to recognize is that these are the victims who will never come asking for succor. The story concerned Agnes Jerome. When it begins, Agnes was about thirty years old, and under many troubles had grown worn and weary. While she was still a young girl she had married against the advice of her family, and her conse quent unhappiness ought to have satis fied the most revengeful in it. If her husband had justified her faith in him, and she had prospered, she might have been forgiven, but she was so persistent ly w r retched that it was uncomfortable to even think of her. Her brother resented being called upon to go bail for her hus band, her sisters did not like their ser vants to see her forlorn figure coming into the house; she always had the aspect of a beggar, they said; and indeed this was true; but it was not of them she was forever craving help, it was of life, of death, of the Lord in heaven, sometimes of the devil himself. In the first years of her marriage she used to think she would be happy if only Barney would reform; then she despaired of his reformation, because all their sur roundings were so abject. They had lost their comfortable home, and were living in a back room in the lodging-house. In the morning she used to get up and boil her coffee over a smoky little oil lamp, in a tin cup, while Barney was Still asleep. As she sat eating dry bread and drinking poor coffee, wrapped in a shawl, because the people below stairs kept the heat turned down until their rooms were warmed, she used to think that if any thing would excuse a man for living in saloons it was the alternative of living in a room svich as her own. She did not realize that Barney cared nothing for the dreariness of his home. He never thought of it except as a place where there was a bed to sleep upon, and where possibly something to Cat poujd be ob tained. If he came home late at njght and found his wife sewing, he was satis fied, because it was evident that she had work, and there would be some money; if he found her asleep, he said little, be cause he was always sleepy and stupid, and lie didn’t want®to be talked to by her. If he had any treasons to which his heart or thoughts turned, they were not in his home. He never abused Agnes—that is, he never struck her— but he never thought himself responsible for her privations, her hunger, sufferings or mortifications. They were both poor, and that was all there was of it. If the landlady turned them out-of-doors he ex pected Agnes to find a new shelter, and this she had to do, because no one would have trusted him for the rent of a room. And if people had known how entirely penniless and destitute she always was when she sought a new home, no one would have let her in. But she had some bravery and the breeding of a lady, uud her gentle manners carried her over many hard places, And she sank lower, until she was quite out of sight, aud this was comfortable for her relations. To have a skeleton in the closet is bad enough, but one in the front hall is worse. After a time Barney disappeared. Ag nes expected him back day by day, but he did not come, and she began to hope he was dead. It seemed so much better to think of him as asleep in a quiet grave than wandering drunken about the streets. She sewed very constantly in these days, and as she could keep, use and manage what she earned, she was able to rent a room with a stove in it, and now aud then cook herself a little cheap meat. But the long hours of cheer less toil, the want of fresh air and ven tilation, brought on a slow fever, and she had to go to a hospital. Here she lay far several weeks until she was discharged as cured. Aud she was curpd of the fe ver, but she was a sick, suffering woman when she went feebly out of the hos pital gate and stood at the street corner waiting for a car. She did not know where to go. She had three dollars in her pocket, given her by two of the nurses, but that was a small capital upon which to start in life again. And in deed she did not care much where she went if only she could get somewhere where she could lie down. Her limbs were stiff; she had a pain in her back, and her brain seemed tired and sluggish. As she stood on the corner she read a placard on the wall advertising an ex cursion to the sea-shore. For one dollar one person could go and return. As Ag nes read this she half smiled. For a convalescent to go to the sea-shore was a proper and usual thing to do. And it occurred to her that she would best go. She would, for a dollar have two long rides, and she would see the ocean, breathe the air. The very thought rested and inspired her, and when the street-car came along she got into it with some spirit, making up her mind where to go for lodgings for the night. Early the next morning she went to the w'harf, bought her ticket, and crossed by the ferry to the railroad station. It was a clear sunny morning in early sum mer, and the river was all freshness and glitter, and the islands which lay in the middle of it were green and beautiful. The trees hung over, looking into the water, and the gulls sailed ahead of the boat. To be in the midst of people bent upon a holiday, to be in motion and out in the air, and so be going somewhere, made Agnes feel as though she were out of her mind, and that she must pinch her self and make sure her sensations were normal. But after she had been in the train for an hour her excitement went away, and she sank into her usual depression, yet not into her usual quiescent mood. She had during her illness bound herself to a certain task, and she meant now to per form it. In the night this had come to her—that the time, the opportunity, had now arrived, and this was to be done. It w’as no new thought. Before she was ill it had been a poor comfort lying ahead, and in the hospital she had silently reflected upon it day and night. The only question was how she should do it. She knew how much trouble and gossip there always was in the miserable houses where she must live, and she also knew that if she died in one of them, and the alarm was spread, and the police and the coroner called in, that her history would be canvassed, and her family hear it all. And she also thought of the peo ple who might keep the house in which she should die, and that they might find it a loss to have a lodger kill herself in one of their rooms. But to drown herself in the sea, and to be swept out into the waste of waters, and only God and the angels know—that contented her, and took away all her per plexities; because when one has an imagi nation and comprehension of details and some thought of others, it is not entirely easy to decide upon how it is best to die, there always being some complex difficul ties in the matter. Being a woman, she had naturally th4(pat of poison, but it is not easy to select a poison. Agnes did not want to die in torture; the very thought of this was horrible to her. She had suffered so much that she thought of death as a relief, to make it another agony was imposMfle. But if she did this tlAg she wanted to do it surely, to makeli mistake; aud who can be sure of a narcotic? She had known of more than one miserable creature who by force and the skill of doctors had been brought back to life. Her escape should not thus be hindered. To shoot or to hang her self was impossible to her. But to go away silently and quietly and trouble no one, that seemed to her a most fitting and proper thing to do. And so, having come to the end of all she knew, and seeing nothing before her, she believed, that the time had como fqr her departure, and she went on to her destined place without any desperate feeling whatever. There was perhaps no one on the excursion who was more quiet than Agnes; and she even smiled, being amused because she had in her pocket a return ticket. She was noticed by every one near her as being so forlornly unlike the others; she was alone, and, it was easy to see, was both poor and sick. But np one guessed how tranquil and content she was, feeling as she did that sleep was awaiting her, As for the here after, she had no fear w'hatever, being quite surp that her Father knew how wretched was her life and how useless. In some other world there might be both happiness and ivork for her, and to it she would go. When she reached the sea-shore she stopped at a store, bought some bread, and then wandered away by the beach, and watched the tide go out and then pome in. The sky shone over it all, and the fresh winds blew on her thin and sunken cheeks; but no one disturbed her, and the day was quiet and very sa cred to her. It was not a hasty leave that she was taking of her life, and she could not be sorry to be gone, although it was bitter, bitter to feel that she must do it, when there was so many happy people who would awake with the morn ing. In the late twilight some boys ran past the little house where Martha Clarkson lived, and stopped just long enough to call in that Jim had been out and brought a woman in. Mrs. Clarkson laid down the match she had lighted, put back the chimney on the lamp and went out to the light house where Jim was on duty. She found a group of men—some from the life-saving station, some fishermen and the light-house keeper standing around the body of a woman who was lying on the ground, and Jim, her son, was among them, still in his wet clothing. Martha Clarkson pushed her way through the little group and looked down on Agnes. Truly she was a most pitiful object. Her dripping garments clung to her meagre figure, her hands fell away limp on the ground, her hair clung to her face, and her eyes were partly open—sightless, un meaning eyes. Poverty—poverty and trouble lay there embodied; and it made the heart of the old woman acho. She had borne many griefs, yet she had never thought of anything but of living through them. In her family the men might peeish out*at sea, but the women died in their beds, waiting until death came foi them. “I saw her go in,” said Jim. “She looked around first, but she didn’t see me, and she took off her bonnet and held it in her hand, and walked right down into the water. The tide was about in, but it was quiet, you know, and any of us could have stood up and laughed at it. But she went down all of a sudden, when it wasn’t up to her waist. She didn’t throw herself over, but a wave, just took her off her feet, and down she went. When I got out after her I was afeared I wouldn’t find her, but I saw her face once, and then I knowed where to look.” “It didn’t do any good,” said the light-house keeper; “she’sswallowed her last drink of water.” “Who says so?” asked Martha. And when she heard that Doctor Shields had, she looked around for him, and then said, in a loud, clear voice, that Doctor Shields’s opinions -were like dreams, and should be taken contrary. And with that she had Agnes carried into the light house, and she and the life-saving guards went to work, and after awhile poor Ag nes opened her eyes and saw the same world to which she had vainly tried to say farewell. As there was nowhere else to take her that night, Mrs. Clarkson took her home to her house, and made her comfortable. She went in through the night very often and looked at Agnes, who slept like a child; and in the morning Mrs. Clarkson began to nurse Agnes. She already was interested in her because it was Jim aud she who had restored her to life, and day by day she tried to strengthen and nour ish her. Agnes accepted all that was done for her. Never was any one more passive. She did not understand what else to do. She had so parted with life that it now eluded her, and she could not catch hold of it again; and more over, she was very inert, and after a time it was found that her right arm was stif fened, so that she moved it with diffi culty. All summer she staid with Martha. How could she break away and depart when there was no one to whom she could go? She could not work, and as for starving, of that she had had enough. And Martha was glad to keep her. She could sew, even with her stff arm, better than Martha could, and she pleased and entertained them all. Jim came home every day, because the house was more alive with this gentle creature in it; and the boy of the family loved her stories next to sailing. She taught Hiram—this boy—to read when winter came; and now, indeed, they were glad to have her company, shut in as they so often were that stormy year. In the spring Jim was drowned. He lost his life at last saving others; and when Agnes, weeping with Martha, cried out that there was nothing she could do for one who had done so much for her-~ because Agnes was now reconciled to life, and at rest—Martha took her in her arms, and begged and implored her to turn the boy from the thoughts of the sea. It had swallowed her husband and taken her son, and she could not give it all that was left to her. , And after this Agnes gave herself tc this work—to keep the boy from the ocean. But it was the teaching of water to run uphill. The blood of fishermen and sailors coursed through his veins; all the traditions of his life were of ships, and the very stories his mother told had the salt of the sea in them. He drew his brows together and looked sullen when the women asked him to keep out of th( boats; and many a night he climbed from his window and went fishing alone. But at last Agnes discovered that 'nexl to the sea Hiram lqved machinery, and she set herself to making him love it bet ter. She said no more against the sailor, but turned all her thoughts and words tc machinery. She bought a Natural Phil osophy, and together the two studied mechanics and everything else the book contained, so they clearly understood it. They also made a pasteboard locomotive, and when they were perplexed they went tegether to the railroad, and the engi neers showed them whatever they asked about. And so it came at last that Hiram had a situation on the road, and he became an engineer, and then perfected the invention that has made him rioh, But the idea of the invention eamo from Agnes, because onoo when working on the pasteboard model they made a mis take, and she rectified it on a hint given her by sewing machines. It was this hint that Hiram afterward applied and worked upon. And so Agnes grew to rejoice in her life, having Hiram to save for his mother - , and both of them to love and to serve, Hiram was a good son to the two vyomen, and when his mother died, ho and Agnes went to Russia together, and from there to China, and she was proud of his prosperity, and he was full of interest in everything, and never failed in his tender affection for her, and the good times he had she shared with him. Of Barney Jerome there came no news at all, and it is probable, had Agnes suc ceeded in leaving this world when she meant to do so, she might have found him already arrived in the other. So it was well she staid here and had some of the peace and happiness the earth can give, and was rid of him.— lfurper'i Bazar. Arch Tramps. The most inveterate loafers on earth are the Veddahs, or forest-dwellers, of the Cingalese coa#t swamps, They live outdoors entirely and submit to unspeak able hardships of winter rains and sum mer heat—not to mention land-leeches and gnats—rather than go to the trouble of constructing a water-proof cabin. Like their next relatives, the wanderoo apes, they are passionately fond of sweet fruit, but such is their horror of labor that even the prospect of an abundoiit crop will not tempt them to undertake the cultivation of a banana orchard, re quiring about four hours of work per week. ]|urmah has altogether a population of about five millions. HOUSEHOLD AFFAIRS. SOFT WATER FOR BOILING. Soft water is best for boiling vegeta bles. Green vegetables should be put into plenty of salted boiling water and cooked rapidly, without covering, until tender. As much carbonate of ammonia as will lie on the point of a penknife put into the boiling water with peas, spin ach, asparagus, etc., helps to preserve the color. —Mew York World. HOW TO CARVE POULTRY. An expert carver can divide poultrj without removing the fork from the breast-bone or turning the bird on the dish, but a beginner will do well to have a small fork at hand for the purpose of laying cut portions aside as the carving progresses. Turn the bird so that the carving fork can be held in the left hand and firmly fixed in the breast-bone, and use a sharp knife. First cut off both drumsticks at the knee joint, and then remove the second joints. With a ten der bird this is not a difficult matter, but both strength and skill are needed to cope successfully with a tough or under done turkey, because very strong sinews are plentiful about the leg joints. Next cut off the first joints of the wings and the pinions, and then the joints nearest the body. This method of cutting ofl the first joints of the legs and wings be fore separating them from the body saves that troublesome feat of holding these members while they are being disjointed. Frequently they slip about the platter and splatter the dish gravy. After the wings are removed, cut off the merry-thought or wish bone, and then the wing-side bone which holds the breast to the back bone, then carve the breast in medium thin slices and serve the bird, giving gravy and dressing on each plate. If the diners are numerous it may be necessary to cut off more of the flesh, and even to dismember the carcass. This can be done with more or less ease as the carver under stands the anatomy of the bird. If a carver would study the location of the joints while carving and take the trouble to cut up several carcasses by striking the points where bones are joined together, subsequent carving would be easy. The joints of all birds are similarly placed so nearly identical in point of junction that me is a guide to all others. —Detroit Free Press. . RECIPES. Potato Chowder—This is a nice dinner for a busy day. Cut half a pound of sail pork into thin slices and fry slowly, £ very light brown; add five sliced onions, and let them color slightly; peel and slice —dropping the slices into cold water two quarts of potatoes. Put a layer oi these in a deep kettle; then a thin layer of pork and onions; season each layer with salt and pepper, and dredge with flour. When all the ingredients are used, cover with two quarts of hot water, let it come slowly to the boiling point and cook forty minutes, or until the potatoes are done. Minced parsley or young celery is a desirable addition. Banana Custard—Dissolve two table spoonfuls of cornstarch in two table spoonfuls of cold water; add one cup oi sugar and two ounces of butter; stir to gether in a stew-pan long enough to cook the cornstarch until smooth; pour on gradually, stirring the while, a quart of boiling water; remove from the fire aud add the beaten yolks or three eggs; re turn to the fire and stir until thick. When cold stir a pint bowlful of thinly sliced bananas and pour all into a pretty china or glass dish. Cover with a meringue of the whites beaten to a stiff froth with half a cup of powdered sugar and the juice of half a lemen and heap on top of the oustard. English Muffins—Scald one pint of milk, and when lukewarm stir in three cups of sifted flour and one level tea spoonful of salt; beat hard aud add four ounces of melted butter, then half a cake of compressed yeast dissolved in a gill of warm water, and beat again. Let them stand covered in a warm place until very light. If wanted for tea at 6 o’clock, mix about 2:30. Butter some muffin rings and lay on a hot griddle; half fill with the batter and bake until brown on one aide, then turn and brown on the other; remove the rings and let them remain over a slow fire for a moment or two. Tear (never cut) them open, drop in some but ter, lay together and serve at once. If any are left until cold, toast and butter them. Peach Gelatine—Press half a ean oi peaches or apricots through a colandor; whip a pint of cream stiff; take quarter of a box of gelatine that has been soaking in two tablespoanfuls of cold water and stir it over boiling water until it is dis solved ; strain it into the puree of fruit; mix well and stand the basin—which should be a tin one—on the ice or in the snow, and stir from the bottom and sides until it begins to set and thicken, their add half of the whipped cream, mix thoroughly and set away in a mold to, harden. If you dine at evening, do this in the morning, but not over night. ’Turn out on a pretty dish and pour the re mainder of the whipped cream, which you have kept in a cool place, around the base. Soup a la Bonne Femme—This is an extremely wholesome soup which deserves to be better known. Cut a good-sized onion into rounds and fry in a little but ter, or fat taken from the top of soups; do not allow it to brown, and when half done add the finely-cut leaves of a tender bead of lottuce and a handful of sorrel also cut small; season with pepper, salt and grated nutmeg, and keep stirring for five minutes longer. Then add half a teaspoonful of sugar and a cup of veal 3tock; give one boil, and keep warm until time of serving. Meanwhile prepare a dozen and a half very thin slices of bread, about an inch wide, and two inches long; dry these in the oven; free the soup from fat, if there is any on it; set it to. bo>U; when this point is reached, remove from the fire and stir in the beaten yolk of an egg with one gill of cream or rich milk, [q all cases where eggs are added to soup they must be well beaten and stirred in slowly or they will curdle, —American AdvtiuMrint, THE FAITHFUL CLOCK. Although my hands are on my face, And all the time I go on tick; Trust me, mine is a worthy case. The slow may think I am too quick, But fast and slow at once may sea At any time good works in me. Good hours from day to day I keep; No one down oarly, none up late, Has ever caught me fast asleep. If I run down, I lose my weight; If I should take a single drop ’Twould break me, and my works would stop. A man wound up is in a fix, But wind me up and I can go. Though hard the times, I play no tricks, And yet it is on tick I do The constant work of my two hands— A task the workman understands. *•- I sometimes strike, but only hit The laggards who are out too late; And some of them have little wit, And skulls so thick that if my weight Upon their stupid heads should drop, They would not know what made them stop. —George W. Bungay, in Harper's Weekly. HUMOR OF THE DAY. As in a looking-glass—SA. Open for an engagement —Portholes. A tennis player is the boy for a racket. An inferior grade of carpeting may be hard to beat. Would it be inappropriate to wish a “king of horsemen” a long rein? When your father’s sister visits you, lodge her in the aunty chamber.— Life. The groom is likely to be a more stable character than his master. —Detroit Free Press. If you are traveling in a Pullman car you want to give a fat man a wide berth. — Picayune. The fastest pair on record—The City of Paris on land and the City of Paris on water.— Mercury. Street Loafer—“ Hello, boy! what’s new in the paper to-day?” Smart News boy—“ The date.” Lightning never strikes twice in the same place. It doesn’t have to—once is generally sufficient. “The only way to prevint what’s past,’’ said Mrs. Muldoon, “is to put a stop to it before it happens.” King Charles evidently was making a knight of it when he dubbed that famous piece of beef Sir Loin. A glass eyo has one compensation— everybody else can see through the de vice, if the wearer can’t. Mother—“ Well, what do you think of Mr. Smith?” Daughter—“He was charm ing last night; he didn’t say a word.” “I cannot look back over the path I have trodden without giving me pain,” the man said who had two boils on his neck. It requires but little faith for a man to believe he is made of dust after he has asked for credit and found that his name is mud.— New Ymk News. Teacher (to class in geography)—“lf I should dig a hole through the earth where would I come out?” Small Boy—“ Out of the hole.”— New York World. Wall street shears are sharpening, And Bull conspires with Bear; While lambs now skip and hurry, To leave their fleeces there. —New York Commercial Advertiser. A young man in the Treasury Depart ment calls his best girl “bevizoic sul phinide,” because benzoic sulphinide is; three hundred times sweeter than sugar. Washington Critic. He—“ You evidently knew that song. I noticed that your mouth kept moving as though you were repeating the words.’* She—“No, George, that was gum.”— Minneapolis Tribune. It is said that in some parts of Africa there are birds with bills a yard in length. If the theory of transmigration of souls is a correct one, these birds must be the spirits of departed lawyers. Swiley—“l’m going to succeed this time. I’ve got my business founded on a rock.” Hawley—“l hope it isn’t the same rock you split upon when you were in business before.”— Burlington Free Press. Visitor at Kindergarden School— “ Children, your teacher has asked me to say a few words to you. How shall I begin?” Pupil on the Back Seat (just as. they all do) —“When I was a boy.”— Boston Transcript. Mrs. Passe (to her maid) —“How is the weather to-day, Marie?” Maid—“ Fresh and windy, madame.” Mrs. Passe— “Very well; you will please put a healthy flush on my cheeks this morning; lam going out.”— Life. He scarce knows the names of the principal streets, Nor the faces of people he constanty meets; Be ever so plain he won’t know what you mean, And he’s no recollection of things he has seen; He’s short in his memory, his sight is defec tive; Can’t you guess what he is—a Chicago detec tive. —Chicago Times. A young man of Nantucket, becoming engaged recently, was desirous of pre senting his intended with a ring appro priately inscribed, but, being at a loss what to have engraved upon it, he called upon his father for advice. “Well,”' said the old man, “put on: ‘When this you see, remember me.’” The young; lady was much surprised a few days after at receiving a beautiful ring with "this in scription: “When this you see,remember father.” The Stars and Stripes. The Stars and Stripes were first lioistcc? as a national flag on August 3,1777,0ver Fort Schuyler, then a military post on the site of the village of Rome, Oneida County. N. Y. On May 1, 1795, after Vermuunt and Kentucky had been added to the Union, the number of stars in the flag was increased from thirteen to fif teen, and it remained so until 1818,when Captain Samuel C. Reid, of the privateer Armstrong, devised a flag with a star for every State, making it bear twenty stars at that time. Stars have been added since whenever u qe\y tiutv wjjs admitted, t* the Union. * ~