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(Columbia HA HI.EM GEORGIA PTIiI.DIIEh EVERY THLRSDA J”. Bnllnrcl «*> All&lnson. PKOI'HIKTORH. Skin from the bock of a frog him been used by Dr. O. Peterson for hastening the healing of wound*. Grafts of the »iz"of the thumbnail were caused to nil hero firmly in two days, and in two days more the pigmentation of the transplant ed skin had almost diaap|>eared. The resulting cicatrice is of great softness and olaaticlty. H >me of the London hos pitals are now l»eginnirig to employ frogs' skins as grafts in place of other skin. A physician says that a great dee) of what passes for heart disease is on y tnild dyspepsia ; that nervousness is commonly bail temp'-r, and that two thirds of the ao called malaria is nothing but laziness. Imagination, he says, is responsible for a multitude of ills, and ho gives as an in stance the case of a < lergyman, who, after preaching a sermon, would take a b'sspoonful of sweetened water, and doze off like a babe, under tie impression that it was a bon t fl Io sedative. Census figures reveal the strange fact that of the E iropcan countries Russia is increasing the fastest in population. Hel average gain for Russia in Ashland in Europe appears to be very nearly one pei cent, per annum, white European Russia, including Finland and the Don Copecks, shows an annual increase ol 1.88 per cent. In Great Britain and Ireland the annual rate of gain is about 1.01 per cent, probably not much ol it, however, in Ireland. Franco shows a yearly gain of only n seventh of 1 per cent. In France the increase appears to be the least of all European countries. Some of th ■ more enterprising of the Western railroads run daily ‘'funeral trains." The Chicago cemeteries arc nt a considerable distance from the city, ■ ' i and enough people die every day to justi fy special daily ti lins. In the Chicago papers may be men such advertisements as thia under the hi nd of “Deaths.” | ‘‘Take the Chicago and Grund Trunk Railroad to Mt. Greenwood and Mt. Olivet. Hpecud funeral train ut 12 in. Fastest time to the cemeteries.” Verily, the West is a hustler, comments the New York Oraphie. The grave is prepared by tidcgrnph and the deceased slips down a chute to his last resting-place, while the “mourners" turn and run to catch trie next train back. Out of a total of seventy-six United S ates Senators thirty-four have been born in the States they represent. All of the Rew England Senators have been born in their res|>ectivc States, with the exception of Chase of Rhode Island and Hawley of Connecticut, the latter having made a jump from North Carolina. Only one New York Senator, Miller, was born in the Empire State, Evarts having first seen light in Boston, Mass. Both of the Senators from Maryland, from Pennsyl vania, Mouth Carolina, North Carolina, Delaware, Virginia, West Virginia and Tennessee were burn in the States they represent. The remaining Senators that are certified representatives of the States that gave them birth are Blackburn, Cockrell, Colquitt, Eustis, Logan, Pal mer and Sh rman. This is the summing up given by one who has made a recent visit to Spain: “Wherever one goes in Spam the irrev erence for the dead, and as a mutter of Course the recklessness of life, arc what most prominently strike a traveller. The people seem actually to be indifferent to manslaughter. On the slightest provo cation blood is aheil, and the moment n revolver is heard in the street or n shriek Irvin a murdered man, every door is shut wad there is n scurrying of feet in ndircc tlon opposite to that in which the assas sin has fl d. Everybody is afraid of being seized as the criminal Not a night during the hot, dry summer passes without the cry of tiro being heard in a Spanish tow n. Any person in the street at the moment can be pressed to aid in extinguishing the flame- But it is rare that any one is found to perform this duty, for at the first cry of fire, prudent citi zens take earn to get under shelter. In the interior, and even in the large cities on the coast, the cemeteries are in a de plorable condition. It is not an uncom mon spectacle to see a body flung across a mule, orcven two being carried in this fashion to tlnir last resting-place, amid the heartless, often brutal comments of the bystanders, who, not withstand ng, always doff their hats, out of a half sujierstitious feeling, the exact characlet of which never costs them a thought. The*- traits n let maiuly to the country folks, or to the townspeople of the poorer class. They, however, represent the Spanish charaetci better than the more polished c.tiz ns, who, in Spain as In every <th r country, have overlaid their native manners by a certain veneer of conventionality, which is in real ty common to the cultured aucicty of the world at large," New Ulm, in Minnesota, is probably the only city on the continent in which German is the official language of ths municipal council. The mayor and all the c uncilmcn are Germans, and all business is transacted in Gorman. How ever, the German Pott, which hss been the official organ of the council for 23 years, has collapsed, and every document will now have to be translated into English for publication in the Review, its successor. It is admitted that not more than twenty-five per cent of the maple sugar and syrup sold by confectioners an I gro < -era is m ide from the hip of the maple tree; and that the other three-fourths is made from muscovado, glucose, grape sugar, molasses,birch extract and chemi cals. A company in Kansas City, with remarkable candor and honesty, adver tise a substitute known as “mapcline” made from raw sugar and essential oil of of hickory bark. Ai. English agricultural journal gives some attention to cattle ranching and its results on our western plains. It ap pears that there arc eleven large English companies, which own 072,013 head, and own and lease, in all, 3,319,072 acres of land. The Prairie Company, organized in Edinburgh about five years ago, has a capital of over a million dollars, owns about 125,000 cattle. Its dividends were 20 1 2 per cent in 1883, nnd 10 per cent in 188-1 and 1885, very satisfactory, no doubt, to British capital. The tend ency is, however, t > smaller profits, as th' cattle-grazing territory is becoming overstocked, and prices arc declining. American companies, to keep up divi dends, make forced sales, and thus keep up wasteful competition. While the great grazing companies arc not meeting their expectations, such stall-feeding as is practiced on the farms of the Middle and Northwestern States continues the most profitable kind of husbandry com monly practiced, much more so than the raising of cereals for market. Two encient beverages nro being in tro lined into Great Britain on account of their supposed medicinal virtues. Palm wine, or lakmi, is made from the sap of the date palm. Trees in full vigor are selected for tapping. The juice es caping from the wound is conducted by arced into an earthen ware pot, and may amount to nearly two gallons daily at first, gradually sinking to about half thutipiuntity towards the end of the tapping, which is seldom allowed to ex ceed a month. Much of the “wine” is drunk fresh, when it resembles sparkling cider but becomes insipid after losing its carbonic acid. Its color is opalescent and milky. After undergoing alcoholic fermentation it contains 4.33 per cent, of alcohol, .22 carbonic acid nnd 5.(10 of mannite. The Moors make extensive use of a spirit prep ired from the water in which comb is boiled in treating bees wax. This water, being impregnated with honey, is allowed to ferment, mid is then distilled ;‘.he spirit is called inn hnrga. It is flavored with anise seed or with nuffa—that is fennel acid. Where Grant Died. I passed several hours on Mount Mac- Gregor to-day, writes a Troy TTmett cor respondent. The Drexel cottage remains almost literally as when General Grant died. There are the bed upon which the illustrious Commander breathed his last, his favorite chair, his garments, in cluding dressing gown, slippers and huts, and even his medicines, cups and the sponges with which he was wont to moisten his lips. You are shown pens with which In wrote the hitter portion of his book and quantities of paper cut in small sizes by means of which he was wont to carry on his share of convei'Sation. A number of the beautiful flower-pieces wrought in immortelles sent by the friends of the General, including th > huge pillow from lhe Philadelphia Post, are also on view. All thes- relics are looked upon by the visitor* in solemn silence. Some of them might with propriety be removed— notably the medicines and vessels. Out side the cottage all looks calm and beautiful. Origin of ihe Drllar. The origin of our word dollar, as everybody knows, is from the German fhal er or low German dalcr. But the way in which it came to mean a coin is not familiar. About the end of the fifteenth century the count* of Schtick Joachim's Thai (Joachim's Valley ), into ounce-pieces, which got to be called J.-aehim's thaler, the German adjective from the name of the place. These pieces gained such reputation that they became a kind of pattern, and other pieces of a like sort took the name, dropping the tir-t part of the won! for the sake of brevity Hence our dollar may be said to l>e the metallic product ol Joachim's \ alley .Veie Fo.-t Commercial. How Ho Turned Their Heads. Two Austin ladies were talking about an English nobleman who was making the tour of the states. “They say that at Galveston he turned the people’s hea ls completely," remarked the first young lady. “I expect he came late to church with creaking boots, ” replied No. 2, sarcasti cally,—Siftings Judge Not. n o may measure by our meaxnr We may judge our fellow dust, We can see aa man e’er see th, And may think our judgments jo But the bidden springs of action There is none true Gad can know; Only Ho can sen the forces That are working weal or woo. There are d«>p and unven currents Moving all mankind along; There are powers for good or evil 'I hat impel the human throng. There are motives born of ages Actuating every life; And the Witness who's eternal Knows the victor in the strife. Mrs. Hattie. Couch Foster. THE HIRED GIRL. “She makes a perfect picture, out there in that tropical sunshine,” said Mr. Vil lars. “Look at her, with that scarlet ribixin at her nc k and those coils of hair waving blue-black in the intense light I It is like a dream of Italy!” “Yes,” said Mrs. Leeds, “she Is very pretty, but that don't signify so much. She’s a good, smart girl, and don't lose any time looking at herself in the glass, like some I’ve had.” “Where did you pick her up?” asked the young clergyman, carelessly drawing the newspaper from his pocket as he sat down on the carpet of pine-needles under the big evergreen tree. “Didn't pick her up anywhere,” said Mrs. Leeds, tartly (for this was a part of the transaction that had never been quite satisfactory to her business-like soul). “She came along." “Came along?” (with a slight accent of surprise.) “Yes—looking for work.” Mr. Villars lifted his eyebrows. “Then how do you know who she is?” he asked. “I don’t know!” retorted Mrs. Leeds, unconsciously betraying her weak point by this irritability of manner; “but I know what she is, and that’s more to the purpose. She’s the best washer that ever crossed my threshold ; as docile as a kit ten, and as smart as a cricket; does twice the work of any one else that I ever had, and if she’s ever tired she don’t say so.” Mrs. Leeds bustled off to interview Fanner Parks for more Alderney cream for the summer boarders, now that the house was beginning to fill up. Mr. Villars improvised a pillow out of his coat, folding it cylinderwise and placed under his head, and closed his eyes in a sort of summer dream among the pine boughs and butterflies. And Eliza, spreading out blackberries to dry on the board platform that had been erected along the garden fence, be gan to sing softly to herself. She was very silent ordinarily, but somehow it seemed as if the sunshine had thawodout her very heart to-day. Mr. Villars had been right. There was something of the atmosphere of Italy about Eliza—her eyes were so deep and dark, her hair so glossily black, her cheek stained with such a rich olive. Morever, she did not move like the girls of rock-bound New England. There was a subtle, gliding motion—a languor of gracefulness in her gait—which was foreign to all her surroundings. The girls of the vicinage did not fra ternize with Eliza when, at rartfintervals, she accompanied Mrs. Leeds to church, sewing-circle or village gathering; for in Stapleville the employer and employee occupied one all-comprehensive social platform. They said she was “odd;” they looked at her askance; and Eliza, always very quiet in her ways, made no effort to in sinnnto herself into th' ir good graces. Why should she? Wnat did it signify, one way or the other, whether Deborah Smart and Keziah Hayes and Abby Jane Clark liked her or not, as long as Mrs Leeds was pleased with her? But the village girls made one error in their calculations. They had not inten ded, as the time crept on, to emphasize their antipathy to Mrs, Leeds’ Eliza so •strongly as to awake a partisan feeling in Mr. Villars’ breast; but they did so, un consciously to themselves. “Why do they neglect that girl so?” the young clergyman asked himself. “Can they not see how infinitely superior she is to them? It’s a shame I” And so Abby Jane Clark and Deborah Smart and Keziah Hayes sealed their own doom, so far as Mr, Villars was con cerned. There was not one of them but would have been delighted to win a smile, a glance, a pleasant won! from the young man who was summering at the Leeds farm-house. But, alas! like the priest and the Le vite, he passed by on the other side; and when the village girls, in their afternoon muslins and ribbons, sat at their windows and wondered why “he came not,” he was, in nine cases out of ten, helping Eliza to gather peaches for tea; standing beside the brook, while she spread out towels and pocket-ha id kerchiefs to bleach, or even explaining to her the difference between the notes of the thrush and the woodlark, the speckled eggs of the robin and the pearl-gray treasure of the whip-poor-will. “He seems to lie taking a notion to her," said Mrs. Leeds to herself, as she eyed the pair shrewdly from her milk room window. “Well, why shouldn't hel It's true he's a minister, and my own nephew; but in my mind Eliza is good enough for any man. My sakes! won’t Abby Jane Clark be mad? If ever a girl wanted to be a parson's wife, Abby Jane docs!’ Thus things were progressing, when one day a smart young tradesman from an adjoining town came to boar 1 out his fortnight's vacation at Dea, on Clark’s. The Clarks were a wel -to- lo family; but the deacon was a little close in his financial administration, and Mrs. Clark and Abby Jane were not averse to earn ing a new dress now and then out of the rent of their big spare room. And Mr. Tru lkins brought a letter of recommen dation from a Iriend in I’ackerton, and he dressed in the latest fashion, and had a big black moustache that overshadow ed his upper lip like a pent-house. “Oh, ma, how very genteel he is!” said Abby Jane, all in a flutter of admir ation. “Avery nice young man indeed,” responded the deacon's wife. And the very next week, Abby Jane came down to the Leeds’ farm house. “Have you heard this news of your Eliza?” she asked of the farmer's wife,in a mysterious whisper. Eh?” said Mrs. Leeds. “She’s nothing but a play actress,” said Abby Jane, nodding her head until the stuffed blue bird on her hat quivered as if it were alive. “Mr. Alphonso Trud kins saw her himself in the Great New York Combination troupe. She was acting a woman who was married to Cuban, and lost her pocket handkerchief, and was afterward choked with the pillows off the best bed. Desdeiuonia her name was, I think.” “Well, and suppose she was?” said Mrs. L 'cds, who was too good a general to let the enemy sec wh it havoc had been carried into her camp. “What then?” “What then?” echoed Abby Jane. “Well, Ido declare, Mrs. Leeds, I am surprised.” “I don’t believe a word of it,” said Mrs. Leeds, defiantly. “But Mr. Trudkins saw her with his own eyes I” cried Abby Jane, flushing scarlet with indignation. “He knew her the minute he looked at her yesterday in church. Elizabeth Ellesmere her name was, he says, in the advertisments, and she danced a dance, with a yellow scarf and a lot of roses, between the pieces, making herself out to be a Spanish man doline player. It’s enough to make one’s hair stand on end to hear Mr. Trudkins tell about it.” “It don’t do to believe all one hears,” said Mrs. Leeds, losing all count of the eggs she was breaking into a china bowl, in her consternation. “And Stapleville docs beat all for gossip.” “Well, you can ask her yourself, and see if she dares deny it!” said Abby Jane, exultantly. “Here she comes now. Ask her—only ask her!” And Eliza came into the kitchen, with the spice box in her hand. Mr. Villars followed close behind, fanning himself with a straw hat. “I have come from the men in the hay field,” said he. “They want another jug of cool ginger and water, with plenty of molasses stirred in, Aunt Leeds. Good morning, Miss Clark 1 I hope the dea con is quite well this morning?" Abby Jane turned pink, and smiled her most seductive smile. “Ob, quite so,” she simpered. “I—l j only came on—” “Is it true, Eliza?” Mrs. Leeds asked, sharply. “Have you been deceiving me? Are you a play actress all this time?” Eliza’s large eyes turned slowly first to one, then to another of the little group. She did not blush—it was i o her way —but the color ebbed slowly away from her cream pale cheek. “I have been deceiving nobody,” said she. “I am not an actress now. I have been one. But I did not like the life, so I left it. If anyone had asked me, I should have told them long ago.” Mr. Villars camo forward and stood at the girl’s side, as he saw his aunt shrink away. “Well,” he said, “even taking it all for granted, “where is the harm?” Charles! Charles!” cried Mrs. Leeds, putting up her hands with a gesture of warning. “Rem mber poor Avice!” “It is because I remember her that I speak thus,” said Mr. Villars, calmly. “I had an elder sister once,” he added, turning to Abby Jane Clark, “who ran away from home and became an actress. She had talents far above the average, but my parents were old-fashioned peo ple,and their ideas ran in narrow grooves. They disapproved of the stage, so Alice left us. Whether she is dead or living we know not, but wherever she is, I am sure that she cannot but be good and true and pure.” Abby Jane’s eyes fell under his calm glance. She was a little sorry now that she had chosen to come hither anil bear : the news herself. Somehow, Mr. Villars had taken it in s different spirit from what she had an ticipated. And Eliza’s soft, languidly modulated voice broke on the constrain ed silence like drops of silver dew. “I have been an actacss, and perhaps 1 should still have been on the stage,” she said, “had it not been for circumstances. My father dealt in stage properties, and I I was brought up to the business, but still I never liked it. But one cannot easily step out of the path where one's feet hav» been placed, especially if one is a wo man. “However, the turning point came at last. Our leading lady fell sick of a contagious fever, in a lonely village where we had stopped to play one night. The manager packed up everything in a panic, and bade us all to be ready to go. I told him I could not leave Mrs, Montague alone. He said that if I left the com pany thus, I should never return to it. “Well, what could I do? The stage was my living, it was true, but our lead ing lady had no friends. It would have been inhuman to desert her, so I stayed behind and took care of her. She died, poor thing, and it swallowed up all my earnings to bury her decently. “And then I tried here and there to earn my living as best I could. I was not always successful. More than once I have been hungry and homeless; but, heaven be praised, I have always found friends before the worst came to the worst. Now you know all,” she con cluded quietly, leaning up against the door, where the swinging scarlet beans made a fantastic background for her face. Mr. Villars had advanced a step or two toward Eliza as she spoke; his gaze had grown intent. “This—this leading lady of whom you mention,” said he, with an effort. “Do you remember her name? Her real name, I mean?” “They called her Katharine Montague on the bills,” said Eliza. “If she had any other name, she never told me what it was. I say if, because--because — Oh, Mr. Villais, 1 never quite understood it before, but there is a look in your eyes that reminds inn of her. I have been startled by the familiar expression many a time, but I never could convince my self where the link of association be longed. And—and I still keep a little photograph of her that I found in her Bible after she was dead. I kept them both. Wait, and I will bring them to you.” Mr. Villars gazed at the picture in si lence. Mrs. Leeds uttered a little cry of recognition. “Heaven be good to us!” she wailed; “it is our Avice, sure enough.” The sequel of this little life idyl is simple enough. Any one may guess it. Charles Villars married Eliza. And even the most fastidious “sisters” of her hus band’s flock can utter no word of re proach against the minister’s wife, al though she makes no secret of the fact that she was once an actress. And poor Abby Jane Clark is chewing the bitter husks of disappoinment. For even Mr. Trudkins has gone back to Packertoil without delaring himself. “There is no dependence to be put upon men,” says Aboy Jane, disccnso lately.—llelen Forrest Graves. A Losing Business. There are hundreds of small cigar “factories” where one man is employed, and, notwithstanding that they generally lose money, their seems to be no decrease j in their numbers. A cigarmaker who is ■ earning sl2 a week and has managed to ; save a little money, starts out for him self. He buys tobacco by the pound, i and pays a handsome price for it, he makes the cigars, his wife helps him, while his children strip. He does not pay factory rent, nor for packing, strip ing, the large expense of labels, insur ance, and lithograph advertising, which amounts to a good deal, costing a large manufacturer from $5,000 to $20,000. This small manufacturer sells his cigars on the basis of cash actually expended, not counting in his labor, worth sl2 per week, beside the o her incidentals. The result is that in a short while his money , is all gone and he returns to his bench. This is the result in ninty-five cases out of one hundred. These small shops aro : known in the tobacco trade as “buck eyes.”— Chicago Tribune. The Cockles of the Heart. Mr. Thomas 8. Clark sends us a plau sible explanation of the expression “wanning the cockles of the heart.” He says that in the counties of Kent and Essex, England, the phrase is commonly used and is invariably applied to the pleasures of eating and drinking. When he was a schoolboy Mr. Clarke heard it explained that the right and left auricles of the heart were supposed to resemble in appearance the cockle of shell fish found in that part of the kingdom; from this fancied res inblance arose the phrase i “cockles of the heart,” meaning the ' two shell-like divisions,or auricles of the heart. “So,” says Mr. Clark, “upon taking a drink or upon feasting on | highly spiced viands, the cockles of tha heart received the first pleasurable it* pression, and so it was that the whole heart was speedily set aglow.”— Chicago | News. The Man and the Encumber. A man was about to pull a little cucxim- ' ber from the vine, when the vegetable, with an app aling look, said: “Don’t disturb me yet; I am too little to eat. Let me grow big and then I will afford you a square meal.” The Cucumber was spared, and in a few weeks it twisted that man into all sorts of shapes with the colic. Moral—This Fable teaches the virtue 1 of prompt execution.— Life. PEARLS OF THOUGHT. Politeness to inferiors is a debt due . ourselves. Persecution is often the wind that scat ters the good seed of the kingdom. The way to do good is to be good. There must be light, then it will shine. Mock humility wears a gauze robe covering but not concealing its deform’ ity. If you would not have affliction visit you twice, listen at once to what it teaches. Human things must be known fobs loved; divine things must be loved to be known. Certain trifling flaws sit as disgrace, fully on a character of elegance as a rag. ged button on a court dress. To wish to do without our fellows and to be under obligations to no one is a sure sign of a soul void of sensibility. It is good discretion not to make much of any man at the first, bscaiwe one cannot hold out that proportion. Life has no wretchedness equal to an illsorted marriage—it is the sepulchre of the heart, haunted by the ghosts of past affections and hopes gene forever. It may be that luck goes up and down the world calling on men and women but the name has been spelled Pluck on all of her cards that have come under our eye. A Cape Breton Parson! lie was a tall, angular parson of the old severe Presbyterian type. As the local idiom has it, “Y’ou would know by his English that he had the Gaelic.’’ He was preaching in a brother parson’s pulpit to a congregation who were strangers to him. Descanting on the lamb as a type of gentleness, meekness etc., he said: The lamb is quaitc and kind. The lamb is not like the other beasts, the lion and the tiger and the wolf. Ye will not be runnin’ away from the lamb. No. The lamb is kaind; the lamb will not eat ye, whatever. “And there is food in the lamb, too. Oh yes, you will be killin’ the lamb and the sheep when the cold weather will come in the winter. You will be wantin’ some good strong food in the winter, and it is then you will be killin’ the lamb. “And there is clothing in the lamb— he is good for nothing. Y’ou will tek the wool off him, nnd you will mek clothes for yourselves. And how would you and I look without clothing?” etc. At the close of the exercises he gave out the following very particular notice, to explain which I must state that ravages had been made among the Presbyterian flock by the inflmJnce of a divine of a different persuasion: “And there will most likely be a family from X. that 1 will be baptized here after meeting on Friday night, but”—here he leaned for ward, and added, in a loud stage j whisper—“ye’ll no be saying a word I about it, dear brethren, as I do not i think they want it known.”— Harper's Magazine. Count lag Cattle. Coining from St. Louis on the sleeping car I fell in with a couple of men from the cowboy region down by the Indian Territory. They owned ranches there and were talking about the cattle busi ness. One was an Englishman and was on his way back to the old country for a short visit, lie was saying: “I count ed 745 cattle in a field this side of Kan sas City.” He then took from his vest pocket a thing something like a silver watch. “This is a cattle counter,” he explained. “Y’ou see there are three i figures on the side. Now, as often as you press that little knob a figure changes for the one next higher, i “That’s how it works, ” and he pressed the knob rapidly and the figures changed at every pressure. With this I can count up to 999 as fast as cattle can jump past me. In a field I have just to commence at one end and look at the cattle one by one, pressing this every time, and I won’t make a mistake once in 100 I times.” “I never go in for those new-fangled arrangements, ” said the American ranch [ man. “I have a cowboy who has 100 buttons on a string. He can count cat tle as fast as they run with that string. He has another string around his neck, and at every hundred counted he slips 11 button on the neck string. He can count j 10,000 cattle with his strings as easily as you can go 999 on that thing, and do it as correctly, too. Detroit Free Prees. Presence of Mind. Art auctioneer—“We have here, ladies and gentlemen, a most superb marine ( view.” Assistant (in a loud whisper) —‘ Hold on; it’s a picture of a sheep.” . Auctioneer—“As I was saying, ladies , and gentlemen, we have here a picture of a most superb merino. YVhat am I of fered on a bid?"— New York Tribune. Her Passion Revealed. She —And won't you be able to co® e to my graduation, Mr. Ruskin? He— l am afraid not, Miss Rose. I ! either come myself or send some flowers. SAe—Ah, that is very kind ft you; J do so love flowers. Tid Bite.