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(f oluit/liia Sjmiiiiiel. ~i ' • haklem. Georgia PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY. Bnllarcl <** AtUlnoon, FROPBIKTOJU. The two ii< l <’»t citizen* of W«*hing ton are W. W. Corcoran, who ho given ■ ■nr I Itre*-: ■-nr h’ »« much :m he is now vo t’i, nr» I John W Tliutnpwri, who if one of lae most <■ tei j rifiug men in the dlrtri't. C >r< m!«th - wcaltMe*t,*od he if probably worth ueverul mill’on*. He b»* given *w«y not lom than $13,000,- 000 or $14,000,000 in charitie*, arid he if giving a i the t<m*'. H be/an life a* a clerk in hi, father 1 * »ho More. Thomp son ninth all his money in the plumbing buont followed by real eatatc specu late n». I ;'tior.m< e, vio ntion of all sanitary principles, niiaerablc poverty, the ex treme rfgor of w.n'er, and neglect by drunken parent* are ardd to be »om« of th<- prlra ip-il reasons why out of 1,000 chiklr-n loin in Russia Mar ■ y 423 will reach their twentieth birthday. Statis tic* ah -w that 315 out of each 1,000 ilia in the first five year*. The Russian Goveroiiue t i- m -king mean* to diinlnirrh tliis fiightiil infant mortality, but with little lio|h- of rpeedy auc< <*«, since the main < oi-i ian 'inly be eradicated by the progressive cdui ntion an I reforma tion of nut l eaMvc generation* of the people. Sir ifi-nry Thompson, mi eminent English doctor think* that more than half the diaeaac* that embitter life are due to error* in diet, and that the mischief done in the form of shortened j life i* greater from indiscriminate eating than from the use of alcoholic drink. An over supply of nuttieian, which must go somewhere, produce* liver discuses, gout, rheumnt -in and various other disorders, 'l l! eat too much is n blunder, and too wash down nutricious food with nutricloua drink is one of the greatest diitnry indiscretions thnt. can be in dulged, especially for persons of seden tary habit*. An E’mirn, N. Y., doctor has discov ered that delicate persons live the long est, and ho instances Mr. Tilden as a good (sample of the truth of hi* hobby. Strong, robust people say; “Oh, I can stand anything; nothing will hurt me;" ■nd tin- iltst thing you know pneumonia or some such disease takes them oil like a flash. The ilelic.ito man or woman, on the eonti.ary, i- alwayi guarding against draughts, is careful during sudden changes, mindful not to ent what ov|io rience has taught him does not agree with him, and by such cure extends and pro long* life. The doctor adds that if ho well to found an insurance company ho would accept nil the risks rejected by the r ; ulni r insurance companies. Why! Hcaii.e of the theory that delicate men live the longest. The chief c ties of Australia continue to grow nt a rat ■ only equalled in this country. Melbourne now has a popula tion of 335,000; Sidney nearly 230,000; Adelaide, the capital of South Austra lia, and B isbnnr, principal city of Queensland, h ive each sont ■ 50,000, and Auckland (New Zealand) has 00,000. Ten of the biggest cities of the colonks Contain out third of the entire colonial population. The discovery of rich gold field in western Australia has sent any number of gold-seekers thither. The fields are believed to embrace some 4000 square miles. It is thought that their yield will surpass that of any other part of the insular continent. The diamon 1 fli-ldsof New South Wales have developed richly,and they bid fair to rival the field* of Brazil and South Africa. In one m ighltorhood 2400 stones, weighing in the rough 025 carat*, h ive bei-u got by four men in a month. Tho vastness of the Australian <mpir • seems uot yet to have be n half understood. According to the Loudon Court Jour na'. a wealthy iron master in the north of England, w hose house and works are daxzingly illuminated by electric light, ha’ adopted nn ingenious contrivance by which he may glean some information a* to what goes on during his not-infre quent absence* from how. In several of hi* r. om* ami in his • offices there is concealed apparatus m tho wall*, con sisting of a roll of Eastman pa|>cr and a train of clockwork. Every hour a shut ter is silently opened by the machinery ■nd an instantaneous photograph is taken of all that is going on in the room On the great man's return he delights to develop these pictures, and it is said that they have furnished some very strange information indeed. One clerk, who received h s dismissal some what unexpectedly, and boldly wauled to know the reason why, was horrified when shown aph tograph in which he was depicted lolling in an easy chair, -with his feet upon the office desk, while. the clock on the mantelpiece join ed to *n hour at which he ought to have been at h * busiest. The servants' party in the best dining room furnished another thrilling scene. I Th'- island of B irlwdoes, in the West Indic*, is the must densely {lopulated I part of the earth. This island, with an l nn a ' f 1 <>(> G>)'> acre-, contains a popula tion o over 175,b»0 souli, that is t > »ay, nn average of not les* than 1054 people to ea hos it* IM square mile* of terri-j tory. The Chim-*'- ptovinceof Ke.-mgsu, wbiih was ut one time ignorantly im agined to be the most uncomfortably crowded district under the *un, contain* but HSG moon-eyed celestial* to the square mil'-, whil Eist Flander*, in Bel gium, the most th < kly populated neigh borboo I in Europe, can boast of only 70i inii i’> taut* to the qire mile. If tin- Euipir: -t.de were ns thickly settled as B»:b ido-is it would boast a popula-| lion of GO.OOO 000. Os the 175,000 soul* | in this island nin p» cent, uro whites’ ind ninety-one per cent, are black* or | m.xea blood. boring a severe thunder-storm which passed over central Norway recently, a remirkiblc example of the power of lightning was witnessed. In a field at Loiten a fir tree eighty feet in height was struck by lightning some twelve feet from the ground, with the effect that the tree was cut in halves, and the upper ‘ portion -about sixty fret in length— throw n a distance of »-veral ynr I*. The most curious part is, however, that the surface of the detached part is as smooth as if the tree ha 1 been sawed through, while that of the stump remaining in the gimiiid is jagged, charred, and splintered to the root. The ground around the tree is furrowed in al! directions, one being rev- r d feet in width and depth, ■nd extending for some ten yards. A spruce tree close by “hows a furrow an inch in width, running from a height of six fiet down to the root. Among the prisoners confined in the coun'y jail nt Atlanta, On., was a Heard county murderer named Smith, who had been nn illicit di-tilh-r in the days before he was imprisoned. Smith had in his cell a small stove and a kettle, and his first work on entering jail was to impro- j vise n worm and a .still, getting tho dif ferent articles nt dilT -rent times. The worm was made of an india-rubber tube. 1 Tin- prisoners in his cell would save up their corn bread until a sufficient quan tity hn I been obtained, when the distil ler would make a fair article of corn 1 wbi key. Tho secret was well kept by the prisoners, who were thus enabled to got thiir dram occasionally. The officers of the jail tasted it for the first time one day recently, and declared that they had drank worse whiskey. Au attempt at an j escape led to the investigation which de- | veloped the existence of the still. Night Life mill Character. One night often destroys n whole life. Tho leakage of the night keeps the day forever empty. Night is sin’s harvest 1 time. More sin and < rime are committed in one night than in all the days of the | week. This is more emphatically true in the city than the country. Tho street lamps, like u file of soldiers with torch in band, stretch away in long linos on | either sidewalk ; the gay colored trnns pa cncies are ablaze with attractions; the saloon and billard halls are brilliantly illuminated; music s uds forth its en chantment; the gay company begins to gather to tho haunts and houses of pl-asure; tho gambling dens are aflame with palatial splendor; the theatres are wide open ; the mills of destruction ;.re grinding health, honor, happiness and hope out of a thousand lives. The city under the gaslight is not the same as under God’s sunlight. Night life in our cities is a dark problem whose depths a id abysses and whirlpools make us start back with horror. All night long tears ■re fulling, blood is streaming. Young men tell me how and where you spend your evenings, and I will write you a chart of your character and final destiny, with blanks to insert your names. It seems to mo an appropriate text would b?: "Watchman, what of the nights” Policeman, pacing thy beat, what of the nights What are the young men of the city doing nt night? Who are their asso ciates? What are their habits? Where do they go in, and what time do they come out? Policeman, would the night life of young men commend them to the c nlidence of thor employers? Would it bo to their ere lit? Make a record of the uights of one week. Put in the morning p i|x'rs the names of all young men, their habits an 1 haunts, that are on the (trvets for sinful pleasure Would there not In 1 sham.- and confusion f Seine would not dare to go to their place* of business; some would not dare to come home at night; some would leave the city; some would commit sui cide. Remember, young men, that in the return of the All-Seeing Eye there is nothing hid but shall be revealed on the last day.—WiafcAnuM. Nhe Recalled One Ren* irk. "Julia, 1 can’t see how you can stand that Joe Baseomb.” “Why, Fanny f’ “Oh, he’s such a mope! One can hardly get a word out of h:tn.” "He doesn’t talk much, that’s a fact. I can only recall one thing that ho said to tne l»»t evening. It was an exceed ingly sensible remark, however.” “What w as it he mid t ’ “11* said 'L.-t’s get some ice-cream."’ The Twa Licht*. ‘‘When I’m a man,’ the stripling cries, An<i *trive* the cowing years to (can, "Ah, then I shall be strong an-l wise, When I’m a man.” "When I was young," the old man «igb», “Bravely the lark and 1 nnet sung Their carol under sunny skies, When I was young.” “When I’m a man I sliall txi fro* To guard the right, the truth uphold." “W> an I was young I bent no knee To j ower or gold." “Then shall I satisfy my soul With yonder prize, when I’m a mao.’’ "Too late I found how vain the goal To wh ch I ran." "When I’m a man these idle toy* Aside forever shall be flung.” "Ttere was no jioison in my joy* When I was young.” The boy’s bright dream is all befor* The man’s romance li> s far bebiu Had we the present and no more, Fate were unkind. But, brother, toiling in the night. Still count yourself not all unblr If in the East there gleams a light,. Or in the West Ulackwo<>d'» Magazine. THE KISS. A CHARMING LEGEND OF COPENHAGEN. There is nt the Court of King Christian of Dciirnark an Equerry, high in favor. This gentleman is called Paul Wcndel boc, Baron Lenwenenrue. And there has been at the Court of Denmark an Equerry called Paul Wen delboe, Baron Lenwenenrue, for more than 200 years. The presence of this perennial Equer ry is accounted for in a sweet and simple legend, having for its basis just an inno cent little kiss. At the university in Copehagen there sojourned, something more than 200 years ago, a youth named Paul Wen delboe. He was the son of a poor clergyman, who, in a distant. Danish province, for forty years had lived and preached the Word and done the work of his Master, in humble content, in a poor and tiny hamlet. It was the hope of this good clergyman that, when in the fullness of time, he should be called to rest from his labors, his son Paul should succeed him. To this end Paul had been, w th much pinching and privation, sent to the uni versity at Copenhagen to complete his education. But Master Paul did not desire to em ulate his father. He longed to travel. To see the world of whose wonders and beauties he had read and heard so much. This desire had grown and strength ened every hour, having been fed by the talk of his two chosen comrades, who, more fortunate than our hero in having fathers rich in this world’s goods, intended at tlie close of their school probation to set out together on their travels to see the world. The academic year had ended. The day—full of triumphs for Paul, who had passed the examinations witli honor had ended. But his triumphs brought him no hap piness. The morrow would see him bid adieu to his two young friends, who for a year had been his constant companions, shar ing his sudies, his sports, his sorrows, his hopes. To-morrow they would go together— out into that beautiful, unknown world. They would look upon the glories of art, of which he had only obtained cold glimpses through the pages of books. They would be face to face with na ture in all her moods—her beauties would be unfolded to them. They would mingle in the great drama of which the world was the stage. Perhaps!—Oh, glorious thought!— They would draw their swords in some of the great battles that from time to time convulsed that grand, unknown world. While he, alone, must turn towards the white face of the north; must take up his duties with a heart as cold as her clime. Must forever close his eyes against beau, ty, his heart against ambition. He mourned like a boy. But he kept silence like a man. As the sun went down and the long sweet twilight of the white land began, the three friends set out for a farewell walk. They selected their favorite route, the wall surrounding the town. Occasionally across the gay talk, filled with the brightness of youth and hope, there would float a sigh from our poor h -ro, which wou.d be laughed back into shadow-land by his gay young com rades. As they sauntered on they spied at the window of a stately old house a face, all framed in by the flowers that grew and flourished there. It was the face of a fair young girl. No rose was ever sweeter than those Ups and cheeks. No lily was ever fairer than that cool white brow. No j amine ever sweeter than the look of innocence and peace that rested like a halo round that head. In the careless recklessness of happy youth the eemrade* of our hero said to him, if he would go and claim ■ k:s* of that fair maiden a* she stood among her flower* he should join them on their travel*. Go where they went, see what thev saw, enjoy what they enjoyed. Without a word Paul left his wild companions. Went to the mansion in whose case ment gleamed this beauteous jewel of maidenhood, and sounded a summons. His summons was answered by the maid herself, who, in her*weet humility, never dreaming she was tho object of hi* quest, said her father, the professor, was absent from home, but would short ly return. Then our brave young hero told her it was not her father, but herself he sought. There, standing on the threshold, he told her of his comrade’s offer—told her of his wish—his wild, insatiable thirst to travel —to see the beautiful, the un known world. With eyes cast down and with never a word, the maiden listened. And when he had finished, still without a word,she took him by the hand and led him to the window where the flowers bloomed upon the sill. And there, with eyes up lifted to his, and in the sight of his com rades, she offered him her lips all dewy with innocence and truth. Then with a murmured blessing she led him forth. The next morning three young gentle men set out to travel and see the world. After five years again there was a sum mons at the door of the house where dwelt the beauteous maiden with her father, the old professor. But this time the visitor was a young gentleman bronzed with travel and at tired in the gorgeous uniform of an officer high in rank. Again the maiden answered the sum mons, and, as before, in sweet humility, she said, “My father is not within, sir." The young gentleman made answer as did the youth five years before. It was not her father, but herself he sought. He asked her if she remembered the youth on whom she had bestowed a kiss. Remembered him 1 With blushes and eyes cast down, she answered, “Yes.” Then ho led her to the room where bloomed the flowers on the window-sill. He remembered quite well the way, and told her how her pure kiss had been as a seal upon his lips, and had kept them virgin to her through all the years of his absence. How the light from her up-turned eyes had been his beacon light that hud led him on to fortune. He told her that while travelling with his young friends he had visited Russia, and finding thnt country involved in a war he had enrolled himself under her banner. He told her in a few modest words that in more than one action he had been so fortunate as to win the notice and good will of the great Czar himself, who had bestowed upon him rank and hon ors. But I He told her his heart often turned with longing to his native land. Often, by the camp-fire’s light, on the lonely march, amid the dazzling splen dor of the court, he felt again her pure kiss upon his lips, he heard again her murmured blessing. But gratitude to his imperial patron kept him at his post. At last there came to visit at the Court of Russia the K ng of Denmark. During the visit the Czar mentioned to his royal cousin of Denmark that among the bravest nnd most honored of his young officers there was a Danish gentleman. The Danish king summoned to his presence this subject who had so bravely upheld the honor of his native land. He told our young hero that there was always room for such as he in the ranks of his own army. And when the King of Denmark re turned to his own realm there came in his train Major Paul Wendelboe, Baron Lenwenenrue, Equerry-in-Waiting upon his Majesty. And Major Paul Wendelboe had los no time in seeking out the maiden, whose name even he did not know, but whose visage had been his guiding star that had led him on to win honor and title, which he brought now, with love and gratitude, to lay at her feet. The maiden whispered to lam her name was “Lugeborg,” and then! she whispered— No need to tell what she whisp ered. ’Tis the same sweet sentence that Don Cupid prompts all mauls to whisper since the w orld began. And this is why there is always at the Court of Denmark an Equerry-in-Wait ing called “Paul Meudeiboe, Baron Len wenenrue.’' And whv the oldest daughter of the House of Lenwenenrue is always christened “Lugvborg.”— Sytmge in Qrupkic. Hundreds of acres of ground at Big Fist, CaL, were covered with very small frogs after a hard »hower the other day. The little fcliow* were not larger than crickets, und just as lively. GIVINGJJIPS.” Cunning Money - Making Schemes of Some People- How Tradesmen Securs Good Customers by Paying Commissions- . l>e in the commission business is considered an honorable calling, but it has come to pass that there a class of commission men who are not only a nuisance to their employers, but they are an ulcer on the nose of honest deal ing, quite i ffensivc. "It happens almost every week,” said a well-known*butcher, “that I *m»p --j pioachcd by stewards either of private families, hotels, or steamboats, who give me to understand that for a quiet ‘tip’ I once in a while they will turn their em ; ployer’s trade to my market.” “What do you do?” 1 “If I think the trade is worth having I j give the fee. Why not? Others do it, and the only way I cau fight ’em is with their own weapons. Why, only the other day I had the meat cook in one of the largest and most fashionable board ' ing-houses in the city tell me that if I ■ would give her 5 per cent, commission she’d bring me the trade of the house, whi<h probably amounts to S2O or $25 i a week.” “And you didn’t take the bid?” "No; because I have reason to know that she couldn’t fill the contract.” The reporter’s next visit was to one of the leading grocery stores in the cily, and when the object of his visit was made known the proprietor re marked: "Yes, I hear of such things once in awhi'e. In fact I kicked a great mealy-mouthed man out of my | store one day last winter, who had in- I formed me that unless I did the square , thing with him he would take his era ! ployer’s trade to another store. I asked , him what he thought would be square, and he replied that I ought to furnish him with what groceries and canned goods would be used by his family.” “That was modest enough.” “Yes, that was cheap, but I didn't like the cheek of the fellow. Those cases are rare, but I’ll tell you a system not so rare. Cooks and stewards often make bargains with butchers and grocers I through the drivtrs of the delivery carts ’ and wagons. That’s common, and I’ve j even heard where the drivers make quite j a little commission in this way.” I Next, a visit was paid to a prosperous j carriage builder and repairer, who didn’t ' hesitate to say that coachmen and host | lers tapped him for tips. "Only this afternoon a hostler came in and asked me for sO.cents. I knew that he wantedit to get a drink, but I gave it to him with- ■ out question, because I know he has the placing of the horseshoing of a man who owns three horses.” “How about coachmen ?” “Well, a little over a year ago I sold a carriage to a gentleman and got $425 for it. True, I made the sale somewhat through the influence of the coachman, and I would have been willing to pay him a sligh commission.” “What did he demand ?” “He called around and said hewanted $25. I offered him $lO, and he appeared insulted. Then I got mad, words fol lowed, and the meeting ended by my I saying I would smash his nose.” “Served him righ.” "But that didn’t end it. About a ■ month later the man who bought the carriage came around and hinted that I i had cheated him; that the wheels ; wouldn’t ‘track,’ and that it pulled a ■ great deal harder than when he first ’ bought it. I asked him to bring the buggy around to the shop, and when he did so I took the wheels off and I found that the axletree had been wrenched,and I I by main force, so that the wheel did not I set squarely on it. In this way friction' had ground the axletree just where the box hits the shoulder.” “How do you know it was done by main force?” “Because, suspecting that, I told the ! employer of the demand the coachman had made on me, and he taxed the fel low with it, at the same time charging him with having bent the axle. Then the man confessed. That’s how I know.”— Detroit Free Preet. Death in Boiling Steel. It is long since the newspapers re corded any accident so horrible as the death of the Wool wish molder who was overwhelmed by a cataclysm of boiling steel, and it is not often that so strange a ceremony a? the burial of poor Mori arty is desenbed in black and white. The fact is, the poor fellow now is part of a 60-ton gun, in which form he will continue to serve his country. Yet, odd ly enough, he was buried yesterday. For some ashes and fragments of cloth ing were collected from the ingot and shoveled into the coffin, which was fol lowed to the grave by what is called an imposing cortege. This solemn but con solatory farce colls to mind another case somewhat similar, which forms one of the ghastly legends of Middlesborough. A laborer had tumbled head foremost into the fiery liquid, and nothing of him was left. But they ran a coffin full of slag, and held an inquest over it, and laid it in consecrat • 1 ground in the orthodox j manner.— Tai. Jfa I Gaietu. Murr!a»<!, My Maryland. “I wa* ut West Point, a bo T 0 » twenty,” say* Confederate Major O'B in the New York -S’ixr, “when the w couds first begon to form. I the academy from Florida, nnd receive! my appointment from Senator Jeffery Davis. My sympathies were all *tro ng ;» in favor of the Southern cause uJ J as the State of South Carolina left the Union I resigned nty position i n th ' Military Academy and hastened to Charleston. I, with some others, WIJ ■el at work superintending the buildup of breastworks and afterward the mount ing of cannon upon them. From these brcslworks the first shot was fired upon Fort Sumpter. After Sumpter Wastakcu I was attached to a regiment of Stone wall Jackson’* brigade and with much difficulty joined it. This brigade, for®, ng a part of Lee’s army, took part i a the march up into Pennsylvania. For a while, as you know, Lee carried everything before him. The Federal* were driven back, and most of us young men expected at that time to conquer the North in a very few months. The night before wo received our first repulse I well remember. Our camp was well supplied with provisions by our foraging parties, and our successes had made the future seem bright. “The song ‘Maryland, My Maryland’ had just reached the army, and all through the camp on this night the re frain could be heard. The Fedcrals were very near us; so near that the pick [ ets of the opposing armies could often [ see one another, but the camp of the enemy was very quiet. Far into the night our men sang: “The Northern foe is on thy shore, Maryland! my Maryland! Her torch is at thy temple door, Maryland! my Maryland “When the morning dawned thebattle which was to decide so much began again, and we were forced from our po sition and obliged to fall back. AU day long the fight was waged, but the Fede erals were too strong for us. i When camp was pitched on this I night the Confederate soldiers did not feel much like singing, and it was the Fed erals’ turn. Again the camps were very near together, and the words of many of the Ncrthern songs came verj destinctly to us. 'The Star Spangled Banner,’ ‘America,’ ‘John Brown’s Body,’ and many others were sung. There was a silence for some time, and then, to our intense disgust, we heard our own new song sung in this way: “Oh! Beauregard and Longstreet, I.eo! Maryland! my Maryland! And Stonewall Jackson, where is he ’ Maryland! my Maryland! Their coat tails streaming in the breeze Is all tho loyal soldier sees. Far better that than adorning trees! Maryland! my Maryland! “Our men were too disgusted and tired to reply, and after that night we began our long retreat, ano the two camps were never again very close together.” Characteristic* of Nevada. When I first looked upon the scenery of Nevada, after living half a life time among the broad leaves, great trees, wide waters and grand prairies of the Mississippi Valley, I seemed to be for a long time in a ghostly country. In my former home, vegetable life was sappy, full and vatied in its green and flowering stages; while in the autumn, the whirl of the yellow, brown and dry leaves, danc ing in the wind gave lifeanl change to all the year round. But in Nevada, the change in the vegetation, if it changes at any time,is not perceptible to a stranger’s eye; everything betokens silence, lack of motion and perpetual hush. In the Mississippi Valley, animal life is full, robust and noisy in all its de partments, accustoming the eye and ear to its universal presence. But in Neva da, among the rugged silence of the sage brush and the scraggy trees, the animal life is so light that the starting of a hare, the “swith, swith” of a raven’s wing, or the “caw, caw” of a bluejay is the event of the sunlight hours; while the shivering howl of a coyote after sundown makes the dead silence of the night hours deader still. Back home (as we fondly call the old States), there is snow or there is not snow; but here, one stands at night on the dry sand in the valley, or lies on his blankets among the dusky gray of the bushes, while a little way from him, on either hand, the snowy peaks, white as the ghostly warders in a fairy tale, keep stern and shrouded guard upon the scene. These characteristics of Nevada im pressed me when I first came’upon these scenes, with a lonesome sense of some thing pending in the air— haunted feel ing.— Oterland Monthly. The New Way to Sleep. A medical writer recommends sleeping with the feet higher than the head, which he avers is the only rational and proper position during sleep. He knows, be cause he has tried it four years. He fin is that he awakes earlier in the morning, feels more refreshed and is capable ol much better work during the day. lhe brain is better nourished, he says, an the lungs are benefitted. After a while another reformer will turn up advising folks to sleep standing on their heads. Sifting!.