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THE t*1 - 4 » NCOLNTON NEWS
VOLUME IV.
Philosophy of the Weather Bnreoa.
Oli. I am the chief I'm of light; the 8fgnal Division,
Of literature a
Tlie newspapers make me « butt for derision,
•But they printevery line that I write!
The pe< pie all yearn for my last lucubration;
Tl it y msh for the paper each day,
Ami before they have looted at th e news of
the nation.
The' must see Jiist what I have to say.
Some isniorant fools dare to laugh at my
glosses day’s weather will be;
At wh:it the
B it when a man once knows the key he -ion*
MrprrftlcTfbtm ivere right to a T.
' My secret? Oh, well, I would just as soon tell
your
\\ - ver I sny ’twill be warm
.1 **ei out you raiteter; the cold will:compel
ForSre’re in for a howling cold storm.
Tf I say ’twill be cold, you may know it’s a flc
® Ytfc ir l^ht ’llrfMf (InslW wlII do;
In short, every lime I make a prediction
Just the opposite's sure —Somerville tocmne true. Journal.
—•*- . m
Sonnet.
Wien, ficorns fall and swallows troop for
flight, matured slow mellows to regret.
A - ii hope winter for his debt,
limps And ?h*l>mn, leaf pressed till t.y quite,—
leaf on sin- i,e beggared
igliouM hen the crescent moon's unselfish
? ■it ? :
Gleam up the sky iu- is thesundoth set.
Her hi i fhtening' s -. -, iliou^h day and dark
■Prolog s theglVtiiiiiiis ind retards the night,
fin, .lost faii-j oung it owns life, lie--edict new risen of decay uppn mine,
as
And mcnaoed fancy’s glory flies takes should pale glow and from pass thine, away,
i, v a
' I Andffff j£.i the deepening delayest sund' h decline,. of ui.v day,
fTfiotf * tn# dawn —The my Athenceum.
* DID SHE LOVE HIM?
“Charley? What a queer name for a
<'•!' frill fpapa !”♦*’
■ vowed to name his first child
iafter himself. As could. I was 11 r only \ a girl, ho
,1 M/iOhlrline tiie belt life :
. Fateovtis a very pretty
Igirl, as she stood, smiling and dimpled
before the early October fire, the warm
mThA'jtthning (light touching, effect. her . curves and colors
Perhaps she knew it; certainly Stuart
[Markham did.
Iteiiad been in love with Charley
fFaye fob years. Did she love him? She
said she didn’t, so what could he do?
Only be happy and wretched ail at once
--happy wretched in admiring fearing and for worshipping the future,
her; in
! (contemplating otliei capturing the prospect her—for of Charley some
man
had ’lerity of other liked admirers. Charley, with her
Everybody smiles, her brown and
pretty of nut-brown warm hair. eyes ,
her waves
There were Dr. Drew and Paul Caven
* dish, and Dick Ralston, for instance.
“I like them all,” said Charley. “They
■like me. and 1 like them.”
What could Stuart do?
He' bided his time.
It had been a year before this that he
had told Charley him. that he loved her, and
V asked her to love
Drew?” “Ain I not as good-looking as Dr.
,y
“Yes,” said Charley.
*■ “As tall as Paul OaVendish?”
' ' >
• “Yes.” r j i >
“At smart as Dick Ralston?”
“Yes.”
. “Then why don’t you love me, Char¬
ley?” I don’t!”
“Because
Stuart .Markham withdrew in disgust
at such a woman’s reason.
. YeHreloved Charley all the kame. If
the couldn’t be happy with her, ho
couldn’t be happy away from her.
And so he came again and again to
Pearwalks, and Charley had treated him
just exactly as she for the last three
years. It evident that she hap¬
was very was
py with him or without him. For Ser
to be Charley and not to be happy was
out of the question.
, Now, after his. decided rejection,
1 jit was Te#y tfnreaSoHable for Stuart to
take offence whenever Charley seemeii
particularly to enjoy other people's com
.. pa«y, If she . the evening playing chest
spent
with Dr. Drew, Charley couldn’t see
why he need glower ip the corner,
j Cavendish, If she played croquet with tall thun¬ Paul
Stuart needn’t carry a
dercloud upon his brow, she thought.
If she went to drive with Dick Ral¬
ston, why'should he eye her with re¬
proach? Charley couldn’t understand. No. •
not
for a long time; because she had never
i in her life loved Kelp anybody, bright
She coqld.not fail it people that and her charm¬
spirits Young over upon gentlemen all
ed them. were
pretty much alike to her. Of course
they were delightful, Jbut with their gallant¬ all de¬
ry and iiomage they were
lightful! ; ’
, :, fond horseflesh,
Now Mr. Faye was of
and one day he brought Charley homo
a pony, t r
he “Olr, for?” pajia, what a beauty! What is
“To ride.”
' "Biit T dbnTltriow how to ride.”
“Get some of yoiu' beaux to teach
you.” bitter Stuart to
It was a moment to
see Paul Cavendish of his lift hand Charley lightly the
from the paUn upon
pony. Stuart good crack
: was a oarsman, a
shot, 'a ' fine base-ballist, but he haa
never been on horseback in his life.
They looked so well together, a-r, acinsr
> ? Jchnyeiy down • die avenue; an
half an eye one could tell that Charley
was enjoying herself.
. - ' cioscCfimfg . Bew Udii ugj enough she looked in her
• * habit, with the smiling
rose-leaf face under the pretty plumed
« a K
! And such , romantic . and , charming ,
• jsidas they anti took—to tfie bold Cloverdell, hillsides and to Lily
•• mere, np over¬
look the shining lake! It made all the
bright autumn dml and dark to Stuart
[Markham. am^ualljf
Yet this wks an gay season
at, Roseville. The summer had been ex¬
cessively oppressive, but the fall was
. biwti/ql: anij garden-teas and croquet
parties abounded.
As only a lawn separated the Faya
Queen Anne cottage from the Markham
vilia, Stuart could not fail, if he would,
I to know how gay Charley Charley,” was. said Ger¬
“It seems to me,
trud e Mark ham, .who was Charley’s bq-
som man a, “that you are rather' heart¬
less. It don’t trouble you a bit that my
brother worships the ground you tread
on, and is breaking his heart for you;
and anyone with half an eye can see
Cavendish.” how it is getting to be with Captain
“What do you want me to do, Gertv
—tattoo my face or shave my head?”
asked Charley serenely.
; “Neither. But you might have a lit¬
tle fe- dng for people that you make so
unhappy, colored replied Gerty severely.
I Charley a little painfully, and
made no answer.
j She had the tenderest heart in the
.world. She couldn’t bear to hurt a fly.
and the only way she could escape tlie
pain pretend of giving herself pain to others was to
to that she did not
know it.
I But Gertrude’s words were very plain,,
and the hot flush lingered and burned,
until, with a little impatient sigh, s!u>
rose and went to her canary’s cage,
where she stood chirruping to Clu'ome.
! If Chrome saw tears in her pretty
eyes, he never told.
. Suddenly “Two broken Charley hearts faced about.
won’t make a
whole one, you know, Gerty; and 1
haven’t any taste for being miserable.”
And, humming lightly, Charley left
the room.
In the hall she met Dick Ralston.
“I wan’t to see you. Miss Faye,” ho
said! “There is to he a dclightfully-sc
lect little picnic in the grove on Wed¬
nesday. Now Will you go?”
ing, and Charley had a passion for dam-,
her father f i bade evening par¬
ties and balls, on account of the Ijt
hours; but a picnic in White Fine < iime.
iug-platfomi a lovely shade under over head, a nice dare
wholly different one’s, fed, was a
“Thauft Mr. tiling. Ralston!" she said
you.
immediately. “I xhall he delighted."
And Mr Ralston certainly looted so
lo-fiy, too, forgot to be mentor w’Seij
■die '‘card the news, and was soon ab
a i b,-1 with Charley in the delightful
subject of ‘‘.something fortunately, to wear”; foi
Rah girls, liad ample
means to gratify tlieir exquisite taste in
- 'kess.
Miss Markham was a bright brunette,
too pretty herself to be indifferent to
appearances; and if she were sure she
Would he charming in white and cher¬
ry, she was almost equally interested in
planning with myrtle Charley’s and costume of white,
roses.
Fortunately the Faye greenhouse
produced roses at all seasons of the year.
day, But and there Mr. were Stuart four Markham days to Wednes¬
contrived
culty ro get before himself into considerable diffi¬
that time.
T! picnic, which was to he an espe¬
cial! brilliant affair, was given in hon¬
and or o. distinguished tho Willoughbys, a very wealthy
erected family, who had just
a hne mansion at Roseville.
They of the were new comers, but the tal¬
ents men and the accomplish
mer of the women were well known.
Th were very agreeable people, and
it v considered good fortune to be on
ering frienuly terms with them. So the gath¬
was soon talked of as “the Wil.
lough by picnic.”
“You have never met Arthur Wil¬
Dr. loughby, Drew have that you, Miss Faye?” asked
“No,” she answered. evening. -
have “I thought introduction not. He is in hopes to
an to you on Wed
nesd ,” watching the fair face rathe*
jealo ly. of
A rospect more conquests fo*
Chat .!
Sti rt Markham had been at college
with Arthur Willoughby, and the two
young nien were at that moment plan¬
ning a shooting expedition. Both were
good dancers, and expected to attend
the picnic.
It vas a magnificent October day
that he two went in search of sport.
The - - »gs had started a deer—a very
large, but single fine one—and glimpse they him. had caught
n iu close pursuit. of The dogs They
were musically in the clear golden bayed and
air,
the y tiling men followed with ardor,
Stuart forgetting even his love-sor¬
rows in the eagerness of pursuit There
was n exhilaration in the air which
would have lifted the heaviest heart.
Si idenly, as they knoll, paused an instant
on the top of a the deer broke
cover and came swiftly through tlie val¬
ley. The sight was so unexpected, the
near view of the free, graceful, wild
Willoughby creature so forgot fascinating, lire; that Stuart, Artliui
to but an
older and more self-possessed sports¬
man, ifted his gun quickly.
There was a flash, an explosion, then
all was blank to Stuart; his last mo¬
ment of hearing filled with a cry of an
guish ably killed which his told friend. him that The he had prob¬ had
burst, being heavily loaded. gun
too
Stuart Markham was brought horn*
senseless. When the strange numbness
left him, he asked for young Willough¬
by, and learned that though the young
man was taken tip for dead, he had re>
covered sootier than himself, and
showed little trace of the accident II
was an unspeakable himself, relief.
As for his face and neclt
were somewhat mutilated, and his left
arm shattered. As soon as his wound}
wen dressed, he found himself able t<
wal' about and receive the congrak •
lations of his friends.
He saw that Charley was agitated
when they met
hand Her cold cheeks when were it touched pale and fiis. her littlt
Then she did not quite dislike him*
and lie smiled as cheerfully as he ooult
With a bit of court-pi aster on liis right
check and a stitch in his lip.
•‘We’ll have the picnic instead of
funeral after all,” he said rather reek
lessly. The iVcdr evL; morning Gerty
nest
ran over.
“Ready, Charley? Will you come in
the rap wl". 1 n,s, or go with Mr. Ral
ston? He h..s his sister too. Papa ij
going to take me. Stuart's arm aches,
he isn’t going. Hu wouldn’t hear nt
an vbody elselrtayfng at home, however.’*
Charley was dressing rather graceful slowly,
apparently indifferent to the
myrtle sprays and the fragrance of the
roses.
“Don’t wait subdued for me, voice. Gerty,” she said
in a uuiet
♦
DEVOTED TO XU 10 INTEK1 8T OF LINCOLN COUNTY.
, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, JULY 2, 1886.
Stuart, sitting rather forlornly, with a
patient countenance, in the quiet lib¬
rary, tried to forget the pain of going his arm
and tiie disappointment reading. of not to
the picnic in while Tittle figure
Sudd, nly a flowery
fluttered through tlie long open win¬
dow, and sank on a low seat at his side.
“Charley, why ain't you at inquiry. the pic¬
nic?” was Stuart's surprised
“Because I thought 1 would rather
stay There with you.” mistaking the
was no sweetness
of the soft brown eyes.
He had one arm with which to draw
her close, and she did not resist
“Then you do care for me a little,
Charley, “Yes, dear?” deal.”
happy a great
A pa use.
“Because I've smashed my face and
broken my arm?”
“No.”
“Because you are tired of the others?”
“No.”
“Why, “Because then?” do.”
I
He was forced to be satisfied.
And what did it matter since all her
love was hlaP
The Krupp Works.
The immense Krupp works at Essen
are outside rigorously world closed against visitors;
the has therefore been un¬
able to learn much of the renowned es¬
tablishment where the most terific en
gines and her of friends. warfare are made for Germany
At last a determined
Yankee has penetrated into this mysteri¬
ous realm of the modern Vulcan, with
full privileges of confiding his discover¬
ies to the rest of mankind, and the re¬
sult is a deeply interesting article in the
March Harper's, called '
“An Iron City
beside the Ruhr,” by Moncure D. Con¬
way. with an abundance of illustra¬
tions.
tractive In describing field for at the length such an at¬
first time, it is not
strange that Mr. Conway reveals some
information. startling facts and The conveys much rare
curious processes of
steel-working It are the graphically depicted.
seems that Krupp guns, which
have military elevated rank, and Germany by to the highest
whose reputation
alone tlie Essen works are generally
known, engage, but a small part of Herr
Krupp's attention. Two-thirds of the
work is devoted to the arts of peace. His
establishment is said to constitute the
largest single business individual. in the world dependent
on a We can appro
date this partly when told that it covers
over 500 acres, employs more than 20,
000 hands, includes colonies of 4,000
laborers’ houses, with churches, schools,
stores, and hospitals; that Herr Krupp
owns among other possessions 547 iron
mines, 4 sea steamers, about 500 steam
he engines, produces and daily 50 miles of railway; that
bomb-shells, and 2J miles of rails, 1,500
untold quantities of
other things. The colossal hammers,
the belching furnaces, the frightful
abysses of molten steel, and the as¬
tounding here manufactured, weapons of war and of peace
impression that this give the reader an
is a kingdom
where the work of Titans is done by
pygmies, and where Dante’s awful
imaginings ties. are excelled by actual reali¬
“Ned Buntline’s” Writing.
TUI-Bit* gave some account of “Ned
Runtime's early life lately. He told the
Detroit Free Cress the other day about
bis writing.
“I was the earliest writer of serial
stories iu this country,” said Colonel
Judson, in response to a question. “I
wrote ‘The Kino; of the Seas,’ ‘The Queen
of the Seas,’ ‘The Black Avenger,’ and
‘The Red Union, Avenger,’ first in the Boston Flag
of the the serial story paper.
In those days tliev thought $100 was
fine pay for four hundreu pages of man¬
uscript,”
“And now?”
“Well, tho New York Weekly pays
$2,000 to $2,500 for each story, and
they run one of mine all the time."
“I have written under hiany names,”
continued Colonel Judson. “The best
known is undoubtedly ‘Ned Buntline.’
I have written a great many under the
name of ‘Clew Garnet’ 1 have also used
‘Miss Julia Edwards’ a great deal. An
army ‘Julia officer Edwards,’and fell deeply in love with
wrote letters very
much answered desiring my hand in marriage. I
sciue of them tor a time. He
finally Warrenton, wrote Va., that he was coming to
where 1 was staying at
the time. I then had to write him tell¬
ing him his mistake. I suppose he would
willingly “I used have killed me.
to pay a great deal of atten¬
tion to romances of the frontier, but
they have been nm into the ground.
There have been so many imitators, and
they have written such trash! One of
these fellows is Prentiss Ingraham,
whose father was a great author. Most
of these Indian stories are full of slang
that you never hear on the plains. Of
course, there are some vagabonds that
may talk that way, but those frontiers¬
men that are worth anything talk about
like anyone else. I now write mostly
tales of the war and the sea.
“I bend myself very closelv to my
work, and when I am in the Ut eepest ol
my stories I hardly eat or drink. "I have
a library in which I work, and no ono
comes near me there. I isolate myself
from my family,and work. Under apply myself heart¬
ily produced to my six hundred pressure I have
manuscript in six days." pages of foolscap
Tbe Ubiquitous Crank.
And the crank! Oh, what a power
he is, and how wide and picturesque is
the figure he cuts in the world! H e is
the man who stands between the genius
of the two classes—tbe lunatic and the
drifter—absorbing a part of each, ex¬
ploding aud retorming his honesty wherever in furious he gusts, H
us goes.
isu’t distiuet. Ho flits hither and
thither, and while lie never sinks into
the easy and luxurious indifference o;
■the drifter or rises to the sublime heigh
of the genius, he ranks second to tin
latter. His relaxation is the humor li¬
the world. He lies, steals, and lovic
on the world at the point of a verba
pistol, at the beck of his always origins
;and decided will, and always honestly
—Cleveland Flaindealer.
LONDON FASHIONS.
Stem Simplicity the Rule in Walking
i)resfl«fl—A Novel Style—Helmet-shaped
Booueta.
Some of the new dresses are so stern
ly simple that only a practiced eye ap¬
preciates their costliness and merit;
others so gay and beautiful that a child
would clasp its hands in delight at the
sight of them, as the vision of a fairy
queen’s For robe. model
instance a new for a walk¬
ing ess which I saw lately at Mine.
Riely’ illustrates simplicity the first style to perfec¬
tion. Its is something posi¬
tively Indian extraordinary. cashmere, It is made ot
black biaek embroidery. having lines in
it of The underskirt
is with perfectly the tiniest plain little and plaiting rather narrow,
under its edge. This underskirt showing is al¬
most hidden by the tunic, which has an
G|>cuii!g right from the waist to the bot¬
tom, just a little to the left, about a lin¬
ger from I lie front Near tlie waist.,
where the tunic closes, there are two or
three small folds, forming a very slight
draping; they look as if the material
had hand been and lightly stayed pushed up by a skillful
in its place by magic.
The bodice has two points at the back,
and under the right hand one there arc
a few more of those tiny folds a little-toll¬
er and more numerous. Otherwise the
tunic is perfectly plain, and nearly
everywhere almost touches the bottom
of the underskirt; the bodice is
but exquisitely do shaped. It is practically
impossible to profoundly justice to this dress,
which is so simple, and yet
is one of the most beautiful models* at
present vouchsafed to us.
And now for the contrast. For illus¬
tration I will describe a dinner dress, so
delicate, so aerial and fine that the very
daylight of this drear climate seems to
Boil it, and it has to be guarded like a
precious jewel until is the moment comes
for its use. It not a thing of fairy¬
land, as a child would think, tor it is
real; but it is an exotic, and belongs to
an exotic existence—to a life in which
beauty and exquisite delicacy are possi¬
ble in the midst of a black atmosphere
and an outer world which is never
clean. Bnt it is very nice to .wear these
things, and never think of the brains or
care put into them, or how soon tlieir
delicate beauty is gone. This dress, typ¬
ical of the style 1 am speaking of, has
the front of the skirt made of long plaits
of cream-colored French lace of exqui¬
site design and delicate as butterflies’
wings. The lace commences quite nar
now at the whist, and there is some¬
On thing like side a fan shape at the bottom.
each is a broad panel of crepe
de chine embroidered in maize silk.
Most lovely is this embroidery material,
but more beautiful than itself is the way
in which it is shaped to the form, it
looks as if it had been smoothed over
the hips and had taken the shape; no
seam, no fullness is there; yet the shap¬
ing worked is the perfect. miracle-worker How this miracle is
I do It must know,
but not. is like looking at the
feats of a clever juggler; one can only
say, “Oh, of course there must bo some
way it of is doing amazingly it—it is not witchcraft;"
yet like it! The back of
the skirt is made of two sets of folds,
one of heavy the filmy cream lace, one of the
rich maize silk, which meet in
the middle. These fall away from the
waist in the perfect line—the absolutely
right gestion curve—without of cushion the faintest sug¬
or steel or any such
horror. And just at the waist the ma¬
terial is lightly lifted—draped is much
too positive a word—with that delight¬
ful look I have already spoken of, as if
the lighten artist had the just effect puslied it up a little
to and kept it in its
place by a spell or a magic word.
Stitches are inconceivable in connection
with this light, butterfly sort of draping,
for it looks as if a puff of soft air would
blow it away as a thistle-down in a
bloom. The bottom of the folds of the
rich maize siik is fringed, so that it
looks almost as if this were a sash put
on to the airy dress.
Bonnets are made in a sort of helmet
shape iow, and the bows placed in
front rise flame-like from the head.
Tire vers wiiieh are to bo so much
worr .and up on a bonnet as though
they grew there, and hold their faces up
to the sun as they do in the garden. No
longer is a flower laid upon a bonnet.
Tlie sha|>es are very small and lie close
at the sides; at the back they are calcu¬
lated for the hair to be worn bigh
on the head. But a new mode of put¬
ting on the strings takes away from the
bareness at the back to which we have
now become almost accustomed. Tho
strings conic from right under the up¬
right iow in front, and pass, side by
side d. vvn the back of the crown; then
they separate of necessity, and being
taken irouud behind the ear to meet in
front, ie smoothly on the upturned hair.
—London WvrltL
Brother-In-Law.
He—It was natural, you know, that I
should be attracted to you.
She (shyly)—Indeed! Why?
He—Well, you know, that your
brother studied law in the same oflico
with me, and we were admitted to tho
bar She—But together. what has that got to do with
mer
He—Why, don’t you see, 1 looked
upon him as a brother in law?
She -Yes, (blushing)—Oh! brother in I law see. de jure
He- a a*
it were. Now 1 propose that lie shall
be a brother-in-law de facto as well.
Then he slipped the their engagement heads ring
on her linger and and parian Cupid caun¬
close together, the on
the mantel looked as if he was about to
clap his wings and crow. — lioslon
Courier.
The widow of the late Col. Fred. Burn
afcy, who was killed in the Soudan earn
paign, is engaged to be married to I’rot
J. F. Main. The marriage will taki
place a}, Berne. Her marriage with Col.
Burnaby was the result of the admira
tion she entertained tor him after read¬
ing his book, “A Ride to Khiva.” The
marriage was not a happy oue. and pre¬
vious to the Colonel's death they were
livin She has au income of
130,000 a jear. --------
A W*r Picnic.
H bile Txmgstreet was m front of Suf
folk, writes Ned Buntline, pecking at
us with Wright’s batteries, instead of
could coming in and “wiping us out,” as he
have done before we were rein
forced, a report came in that he w*.
massing a heavy force to the southeast
of our lines, our weakest point of de
fensc. To learn the true state of things
at that point i was sent with a small
scoutin«r DU*tv eanaf bv the wavof thpShino-ln
company’s into Lake Drummond,
to scout from thence south of the Dis
malswatnp. Going
in skiffs, we reached aland
ifig on tolerably solid a'little ground, and
camped for the night on knoli in
a dense thicket of scrub pine, a half
mile or thereabout from the point of
.well landing. Of course, I had sentinels
out from our bivouac, for we knew
from many sounds that the enemy were
not far from us. All went well through
the night, and at dawn we made coffee
and cooked some venison that I had
got from old Duke at the head of the
canai as we came by his place on the
previous afternoon. The sentinels
were called in to breakfast, for there
seemed to be no immediate danger.
We had just squatted to our coffee and
grist when a sound struck our ear
which made every man in silence
spring bine. up and gras'p his Sharp'* car
It was the heavy tread of men
We had ju.,t e-ot our arms in hand when
a dozen men in rebel gray led bv a
lieutenant over six rfo-htthrou^h feet bio’h '^the and lean
as a imff, broke ° c bush
in front of ns
In a second, while both oarties stood
at a ready, the lieutenant, cried ont:
“Hold on Yanks' If you’uns won't
shoot, we’uns’ll hold fire. That coffee
smells mighty good-we’uns haven’t
had none tor a year. We’ve lots of to
bacco thouo-h ”
He ’and hi! men looked so gaunt and
hungry, and so little like enemies just
then that I cried out*
“If you’ll stack vour arms out there
and trust to us. you shall share in Sack grub
and coffee, and then be free to *o
and fio-ht it out if von want to ”
“Good as sweet corn! We’uns arc
mio-httehunorv o!ce'stacked you bet’”
They at arms, and wc
did the same, and while our cook put
more coffee and more steak on the fire
we sat there on the ground, the blue
and gray, and talked as if we were old
friends causes,' Not about the war or its
but about camp 1 life and other
things
And the wav our coffee went down steak’,
with hard tack and jutoy venison
would have satisfied the proudest land
lord that ever bragged of his table.
After we had tilted up, the Virginians
share brought of out treating. their tobacco, The and dhl their
lieutenant had
a and huge canteen of old peach brandv, '
that went the rounds.
After we had got so friendlv I asked
the lieutenant how he came to be in on
that point. He replied:
“I was sent to watch test you ’uns
came this way in force to take us on
the flank. Our main force is massed
in front, where the batteries are ready
to go in if you’uns weaken, and the
old man (Longstreet) tlrough was afeared yon
might come the swamp and
tickle us in the rear' What were ’uns
doing here?”
“Just out on a hunt for \-osh meat:
got this deer last night.”
“Well the best o' luek to you. You
don’t feel like fight'.u’ now do you?”
“Not if vou boys don’t. It would be.
a pity So'we to all spoil shook this v cnic tha! way.”
hands, traded coffee
for tobacco, and separated, at least for
then, as friends.
The next day on the linos wo were all
throwing lead and iron at oaeh other.
Dr Dr. h. CT L. ’Towe Xiowe was was louna found once once bv by
Francis Bird with his feet swathed in
flannels and extended unon 5^r^"i a chair
m te!!&voStion njvL posiuon, matter? nt e t';fd “I &.uo. have an nowt, the wuat
is the gout,
Lidr^phCnth^ said Howe. “You have the gout-such
“I d an'ftors t_ vosIK
drank wine aad I must
foot the bills .”—Chicaao ^ Livina 9 Church.
Grafted Varieties of Fruit-Trees.
rrn • *.•»:*. a.
s Wli ss. L sras.'i ni
-..phln* ,„d tne.
«=j, Plenty of adepts m the rural vicinage to
give him his initial lesson. \\ bile he
will keep the standard kmds for his
111:1111 and supply, he can grtitify his taste
eye with some pretty innovations.
1 know ot an apple-tree which beais
over a hundred varieties. A branch,
tor instance, is producing Yellow Bell
flowers. At a certain point in its
growth where ; it has the diameter of a |
iV a !' ) l J nib 1 ma y be g ia ftod with the
Red Baldwin. \\ hen the scion has
gixnvn for two be grafted or three with years the its Roxbury leading
shoots can
Russet, and e\entually the terminal
bough of this growth with piesented the Early the
Harvest. 1 bus may be
interesting spectacle of one limb of a
tree yielding four very distinct kinds of
apples, -h. t. Ht-c, tn Harpers Maga
"if /or March.
Ftooring Sam Jones.
Rev. Sam Jones whoops up the boy
sometimes and rakes them terriii’
about their gambling and drinkiii
frolics. “Oh, I’ve been all along tin
boys. I know all about it and I used i
go to balls, and dance, too, boys. I!
when 1 wanted to get married, when
wanted to settle down with n good win
I quit drinking and gambling, ami
didn’t go to a nail-room to get my wif.
but I went to a prayer-meeting and
•got a good one.” lie told this in Tex
and when he retnrned to his boardin
house, remarks, his landlady, said: “I who don't had blame heard li
Brother Jones, but Sister yoi
poor Jonx
where did she go to get her husband?
They say this is the only time be lu.
been floored since he quit drinking.
Vicksburg Herald.
A Fragment.
rte* r..lifmpinO finders of t.tjc snrtrnr
v<>n- ihIIi-sh s-treiehof hupjiy woofiiand flu*
w “{ 1 raiiiions of new^pening
Bu> wiK iVtii- autumn from tho tasseled Ull*
simii i.nur ji,r. ru-tjjug aneaves,
X‘, Z^!y
r, ;!‘ V ! " m - fl,M We's crimson tide
'•rs'.oi/'hn'uZ'h a'muli'm tcartTdlat feel
no fear:
u ‘ ir it-ir^t of life’s sad autumii falls
" * :!i " orrow T1 -* death kindly calls,
;vrlm^-act, W^k.n/ot th-vemstoem
a lime iinr<-r is thim v.m., the last.
P-i •;: , i>- eneh follow ing age makes more
rac i„md te -irhich the human soul is cast;
If not. the sun doth .*hine
for K'-bert Buns WHsoo. iu boutberir Bivonao
Apr:, .
_
---- -
BIG GAME HUNTING.
-—
.... I .icodore , Roosevelt, „ the , New „ „ York
' t:1 :'' man a n,J Dakota ranchero, is
. of hunting articles for
•' ru .iiir a^enes
Ou/,„ : j. I,.e second a>£ the series ap
i ;li ' lle Al>nl number, fully illus
tr: il ‘ ' From ;t we take the following,
N' N day. accordingly. I determined
to devote to going after antelope, one or
u o which w« had seen near
r “« tr 1 i ! ,; wcre mOTli than
1 to fce<1 ffaietiv on the thick
bun ‘' - 1; l 'S, and, from the nature of
! tini , t' ro Elen at time
- ’ “ a were
:m, P ! able to watch them and head off
'■“W ^'h which seemed inclined to
w; no r far away.
1 st;,rte<l f°° n aftcr breakfast, for an
elop, are the only game which can be
bunt* as well in the middle of the dajr
f >', w late ‘ I was riding a well
tl,u !' rul !'. Im.mng nonv and nad with me
1; . V ' ‘“Chester saddle
g‘ lr >- >' fore I had , left the wagon camp
bi “ hin ' me 1 ean:P across a Un }“ ba,lli
them P«*“g-aoras. lav catching a themselves glimpse of
^ they sunning on
*1* si ;,.” of 11 hiI1 ’ a long distance
oii , bush, I
1 v ! n S to a saga
f xecn d 11 m0it careM ’ Uuk U P. a shal
low cry-water course to a point from
"h'd Ideemed I could[get a shot.mnlv
totin' to my ehagnn that the band had
left th,: ljlaw ; 1 *"Pl»ose they had seen
. the , distance and had promptly
me m
run ort th e l <* ? an th f a “P roac h
fa f ™ r,te . t tnck "“ th the antel ?P, es '
I D ‘ ade one other unsuccessful .talk „
, m the .. morning, and spent nearly half
an hou [ in old back up
to , handkerchief me. lying behind tied a ridge and waving
a to the end of a ride
to and fro over its top. Curiosity is with
a “tolope a perfect disease, and they will
° ft ” n bl? u “ ab e ‘° resi ' £ temptation
to hud . ou 1 " bat aE uukn ow n object,
^ . tk ™ n S h sln S ular , ^oUons,
f? f n ”’ e ? n the pnee of ^ratifying
tbel P" d j wl£h m ^ nl thelr ^ /°F. hve3 mformation Thla has ar£ fulat to bn
. bu , liowevir, although ' ui greatly P
o c '. in
f c ? ed ,f n s .‘ lted b v tb e motions oi
the t handkerchief, , . could , ,- not make
*£ d to approach close enough up
n,1 f l f "‘ rand :l / ter ca ? ten “g to
sbm T'Aig his
, T ' u ' tk ’ to w.ir,! me,
.
faif If nla P; V a °^
f 'f.'Vol f.fn,0° 6 UIU ' ! all v ev ulently
pJ.?,*!? ti.o -
6 .f ® 10 ! 1 tka . f th , ® re " as
!°“ fa l r et an ^ V?° n f l \ k n J? fP hl n f - v , heels ab ° ut for . the ood wh , ole ^
-, '
n * Up! k ,ff f l f.?, 0n ^. a “ t \, 1 l ode 1 0n
.eieial m.U 5 f fuuhei t to where the c-oun
tp'became less pra.nehke in cliaraeter.
valleys being lose somewhat deeper and
\ be rirt o t ‘ s ? r together, when I again
dismounted and , began to hunt over the
g 10 und ou foot, and thg time my per
pin one ruLe I saw a little band of
b J!, bn '* 3 'f’r! w .f“ k ™f ov fi
of tbe one dl r v aC ,°f s ' 1 bad co me
opi'eiy cautiously . ,- and felt u certain that .
I had not been seen. The instant that
the la-t animal dL-mne-ired I raced for
^ t
CO uKl tot be blown when I came to
shoot The WIcistAh -mtehm > Ind Stnne?,s^teg been proceed
, VC with'U
10111 k -tobats
" ther or to nibbl ° a mOTthfld of
" ow and , tbeu '. f n,£ wbeu 1 caiuc to in.
top o the ridge they had halted lor
good, ,>erh:ips 150 yards off.
1 was out for meat, not tor trophic
so I took the oue that ofi'ered w
t,
gs%srwta*r
manlu , l . for a tVw feet fell over , ami
was lll<SM j when i C aam to him.
After dressing him -and I may n
mark parenthetically that this work o:
bnU ., K „. iu „ esl))H ,; : ;;i v w hen far Iron
water, is one of the disagi'eeable sides.
a hunter's life-t got % him on the iv-m.
(it W;US a quiot litr beast, used to pack
| llff *J, ;l ij sort6 0 f thinirs behind its rider:
, ai startell towards the camp. Tin
: s hadows had begun to lengthen out we,
before I got there, to receive a very ivu
and cordial welcome from mv lnnurn
associ!l tes. Before long the venisoi.
steaks were frying or broiling over the
mass of glowing coals raked out from
beneath the roaring antll mid crackling cot -
ton Wood logs, should be almost
afraid to statc how much we ate. Su:
fi C e it to say that there was very little
indeed left of that antelope after next
morning’s The following breakfast. day
we took the some¬
what refreshed cattle away from our
long resting and ground, and drives after two able rather
irksome were to
head them out upon the great river boi
totu where the ranch-lionse stands.
A Princeton college professor (of po.
litical economy) is reported as of his having lec
said in tho course of one
cures this week: “,t is disgraceful shudder, fora
public who cannot, without a
see a horse ill-treated, pass by for years
and See car-drivers worked seventeen
hours out of the twenty-four without
registering a protest.”
A Tittshurg druggist, being compli¬
mented on the beauty of his last baby,
replied: Pharmycutest.” “It isn’t my Interment prettiest, but its
by private.
NUMBER 34
The Dewberry.
A a correspondent .... . of , the Boston Jour*
na/writes: I ins fruit can be grown 14
tlie garden with as much ease as the
straw Derry, and by cultivation is im
mat we grow. \ ery few ^ people * aro a *
aware that this fruit, when grown in
time, quite delicious at just the right
is as as the bes&
giown straw uerries, and in many possess, ro¬
g * >ecte 1 a more desirableifruit; it
a pl^usant acid that one does not tire
3 f P ? C J d ° f th * 8tr * W *
invalids. oerry, ana Ihis it is fruit healthy, a f has . especially „ for
been banished
th<3 V me3
l1 nhl ^ o‘ ,t v objects in the mowing-fields - ^
and pastures, and because we are most
^ strangers to the_ good^qualities of
the fiuit; always having depended on
getting oiu fruit from the hills where
the boys are tvatching at all hours of
the day to pick the herri' e§ / as soon as
they tumty turn to learn red, we the have had df no oppor
taste a well-ripen
ed beiTy. It we will take a few roots
borne and set them in our garden and
properly care for them, another year wo
shall be able to form a correct opinion
Objection «« ;Ol;he good be qualities made of introducing this fruit,
briers may to
into the garden., but it is not as
bad to have rmmmg briars .in our gar
dens as d is to have the thorns of the
high bush blackbemes, which not only
scratch our ankles but our eyes and the
tops of our heads, if we permit them to
have their own way. The dewberry
The may be kept under control very easily.
vines should be set the last week in
April, four feet apart each way; if in
needed common garden soil no manure will bo
A very heavy growth of vine
* not desirable [he plants should bo
D‘Pt separate the ends of the vines be
mg lcave clipped with pruning tie shears in tune
to Pf hs between rows, The
weeds and grass should be kept out. and
before winter sets m the vines should
be covered with coarse hay or corn fod
cter: in the spring the covering should
be returned and a heavy mulching of
fine teep hay placed around each plant to
the frait ek-.m. The fruit should
be fully lipe before gathered, and if to
be used as a desert gather about an hour
befoie wan ed tor the table: put the ber
& "*»“} n!a ^ f ]'bshes su ?* r !, treate and cover ‘ l with thls wa fine ?
thmeare tow fruits that will smyase
some of the best varieties, ior cooking
purposes this fruit when well grown
pot it only both healthy and delicious, but
is also a fruit that is always eagerly
«<*>y appetite like fruits, the
many otaer
The Sage of Greystone.
- ^. it deal has been written as to
••.•n-ptitnde of Samuel J. Tilden,
York correspondent of the
’■■urnal. The differences of
R-m nt arise from disagreement as to
mueh his palsied Shake of head
hands implied. My own belief is
' m i* nowhere nigh so ill as he
;unl lhat lhe seclusion that he
s due to a dislike of being seen
! ’ to absolute inability. H«
-'u
■■ up the Hudson at Greystone, but
■ makes visits to town much oftener
““ ' ^nerallv known. His mansion
'""hu-cture. ■ Gr..mercy place, with its beauties of
decoration, and contents,
: ot altogether neglected by the
,. :l te>n, m. He rides from his
.utitrv residence iu a close carriage to
railroad station, slips quickly into a
rlvate section of a drawing-room car.
,nd on arriving in this city takes a cab
: " 1 ' bis town premises, which are in a
carter once fashionable but now aside
bustle. His house fronts mag
nificently on Gramercy park, which is
a high-fenced square private to the own
,. r - ot t lic ' •tbuttino'nronertv “i Tte In in this tnis
mclosnre i I , saw Mr. Tilden, the other
1 W t l < mvnare^ to to see, ami ana 1 T nrPsmnA presume
*
,1 Kv^abated ' 7C
He ^wS 0 to
the t ark within call. He gazed much
at 8:. Gem r s church, whose two spires
r0;;e h:uu!, and I ventured to speak H.'
Tyng, casually to him of the late Stephen
{otellectual long the vi^or. rector, The and oresent famous Dastor.* for
k 3 ?.». w&r&xs
ofiJ that
ins
sss?-“ h ™ * -»*-«• H
an Original Old Seminole. a
b.i! Tiger Tail seems to be quite an origi
old Seminole. A sewing machine
»gent drifted into his dominion one day
and set up old a machine chief, with in Tiger delibera¬ Tail’s
tent. The great
tion, watched him put it through s
pace. He then arose, brused the agent
to one side, and, seating himself, adjust¬
ed his feet to the treadle. He started
the wheel and found that he couid make
it go. He sewed np one piece of cloth
and down another, and then work. gravely
and critically examined the At
last he appeared to be satisfied that it
was all right. He then turned quietly
to his wives, who had watched the pro¬
ceedings with interest, and kicked them,
one after the other, out of his tent.— At¬
lanta Constitution.
The Force of Habit.
“The force of habit is a wonderful
thing,” said the philosophizing passen¬
ger who expectorated upon I’m tho floor}
••now just to show you. a photogra¬
pher out in the country here apiece, and
the other day ii dead I was called out to take a
negative his of relatives man. propped At him my sug¬
gestion chairs that his position would up on
some so
be somewhere near natural, and then
stood back while I took him. After
focussing that the everything lens I stepped out, all looked right,
to see was
said ‘now, hold still a moment, please,’
and made the exposure. Right there
was the first laughter that had been
heard in that house for two weeks.”—
Ohicago Herald.