Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

VOLUME VII PROFESSIONAL CARDS. Lawyers. ROBERT A. MASSET, Attorney at Law. Douglasville, Ga. (Office in front room, Dorsett's building.) Will practice anywhere except in the County Court of Douglas county. ijjy~A. j a®, Attorney at Law, Douglasville, Ga. Will practice in all the courts, State .and Federal. Office on Court-houre Square. yyM. T. ROBERTS, Attorney at I rw, , Douglasville, Ga- Will practice in all the courts. All legal bus iness will receive prompt attention. Office in owurt-hofcc. 0 D. CAMP, Attorney. atXaw, Civil Engineer and Surveyor. % Douglasville, Ga jg G. GRIGGS, ♦ Attorney at Law. Douglasville, Ga Will ni RctW in all the courts, State ana MSO— JOBS HU*!, Attorney at Law. Douglasville, Ga Will practica in all the courts, and prompt y attend to all buHtnew entrusted to hi* care. J S. JAMES. Attorney at l aw, . Douglastille, Ga Win practice in the court* of Campbell. Carroll, Paulding. Oobb, if niton and adjoining counties, Pion.pt altantto given to ah bartuts*. .. —M* ■"» j V 01,8 J' “Z -* Afloraer «*Uw Douglueville Ga * j doctors. -■ -ijrnaorj -i-irn-jur •rr.T. JJB. T. R. WHITLEY, Physician and Surgeon Douglasville, Ga. Special attention to Surgery and Chronic dia msiti in either sex "» Office up stairs in Dorsett's brick building. p 8. VIBDERY, Physician and Burgeon. Office at lludHon & Edg.'‘n drugstore, whore ho ertn bo found at all hours, except when prof««feiona!ly engaged. 8 .ecial attention given to Chronic taae*, and especially all cases that have been tre.-ted and are still uncured. I Janl3 'BS ly J B BDGB, Physician and Surgoan, Chronic diseases of all kind given special attention. Office at the Drngstore*of Hudson Jt Edge Broad street, Douglasville, Ga, Moh iht *J R. COOK, JJen ‘«%’’ Surgeon, ' Has located in Twenty years’ j •vperi' iioe. De«vfairy in all its branches’done I in the most approved style. Office over posi- ] office. Painter. fp «. BUTLER. House Painter, I Douglasville, Ga Will make old furniinru look as well as new. <Ms e him a trial in this line. Will also do IgOUM carpenter’ »<e writ The New York (ZrapAw' gives the fol lowing direction* "how to tell a wo man’s age-.” Ask some other worn u>. Few gttujdruothersare lew than 26 off the stage. • Bnmettes as a rule look older than ■ blondes of the same age. Slenderness is supposed to be girlish unless it produces wrinkles. An unmarru'd woman is a girl un til she is 40. After that she is an old maid. During leap-year deduct ten year from the age of even unmarried wo man. If a woman has false teeth and phmap.-nt it to put her down aa her hjjw old she is and multiply the answer by two. If she is an octrees multiply it by four. : K increases the apparent age of a .■■m-uj under '«.» years and lessens it aver that * ~ ■.• z .. ■ 7 z 7 // KT ' ■ / f i./ TA WT ' The Weekly Star. Only a Correspondent. A grave in the desert, a word in the papers: is that All? Is that all? •io shrine which a pilgrim mayflnd, no memo- ■ rial whereat , . ~ Those who loved him may call On his name, and thank God their beloved lived, and if dead Died for the pledge 01 England; for love of the needy and sorely tx*sot On the desert’s deadly edge. Not for him the medal, praise, and promotion r and fame, The danger alone; And now hot death at a stroke, and never a * star to his name To go with his memory home. Never an honor, a star, a cross, instead of the living man; Nothing to say How true and swift to his post as ever a sol dier can. Historian of fight and fray. x He st ood mid the smoke of the guns, and ro<b' through the blinding sand, Never behind; i Scoffed at more than praised, top ready to understand Whatever might, be divined, Vet blowing the trumpets of fame, not for himse:f, but for you Generals al 11 Seizing <nit of the clamor, ■while the dust and the bullets flew, Names of the brave that fall; Names of the great that triumph, records to fire the blood. Never forgot; Taken out of the heart of the battle, from desert, and kraal, and flood, Wherever the fight was hot. And for recompense, when something falls to each trooper’s share. Twenty lines or so In his journal, but never a tribute or word of honor where » Your rolls of glory go. A grave in the desert, a word in the papers; Is that All? It is scant, Yet enough to light the torch of a good ex ample at; - What more does an Englishman want? \ —Tho Spectator. ••BILLY SMITH.” His name was Wilhelm Schmidt— •‘Billy Smith,” the clerks in the whole sale store in tho bottoms jocularly, called him. His Americanized cog nomen be bore with his accustomed good-nature. Ho was such a simple minded, honest fellow, that everybody liked him. Once 1 came across him unexpected ly in the little room which he made his rendezvous. In his hand he held a picture at which he was gazing intent- ' ly. Looking up rather shamefacedly, ' he pul it with awkward haste into his 9ai<l ’ LntgbiQgly ’j v-IIM/I.k''.”! id’-T-.rn-* <>n firs With Writtent perplexity. i "The wedding, I mean,” I Went on, ! when I saw he did not unoerstsnW, j “come, out with it. Isn’t that your t sweetheart’s picture?” “I dells you,” Billy said, in a sudden burst of confidence, "if you don’d gif it avay to de poys. Dey vould poge fun at me.” 1 promised, and Billy handed me the picture with trembling fingers. "Dot vas Mina,” he said eagerly. "You like her?” When I expressed my satisfaction at the tin-type, Billy gave a sigh. "It is dree—vier years since I see her,” he said. "Bud ven I go away, Mina say she vaid. Und, shust so soon I ged de money I bromised I vould send for her und ve ged mar ried. Meester Raymond, I dells you somedings.” Bending over, he continued in a low, glad tone: "Soon I send for her. I have de money in de bangk—-almost, notquide. Meester Raymond, ven Mina und 1 ged married, you must gome up. Ve gif you a goot dime.” 1 tola him that 1 would and left him. The next day the newsboys were out upon the street with the news of the ? suspension of a bank that bad long en- j joyed the confidence of our German ‘ citizens. Excitement was fever heat. There were many who in the twinkling ' of an eye saw the savings of years swept away. A crowd of powerless, d&spairing depositors surrounded the ' police-guarded building and strove to ; enter the locked and bolted doors, i And, happening to pass by, 1 saw Billy among tnein. "Why, Billy,” 1 said, with surprise, . "what are you doing here?” He turned his face, which had grown worn and haggard in a day, to me, and said hoarsely: "Meester Raymond, I vand my money. Id’s gone dey say—l no gaix i ged it- I—l don’d understand.” It was one of the worst failures that Cincinnati had ever known. 1 looked at Billy’s face, that was raised appeal ing’v to me, and pityingly replied: . "Billy, I’ m afraid it’s gone. There, there,” as a bitter groan escaped his lips, and he bowed his head in misery, "don’t take on so. Be a man, Billy.” But the picture of the fair-haired ; fraulein in Germany, who was waiting so trustfullv, was before me, and my ; voice trembled. The next day BiUy resumed his du- I ties as porter in the store. Somehow, with the look he wore on his face, the boys did not chaff him as much as I usual. Happening by his room I caught a glimpse oF him slowly writing I a letter. Aud oh. the sadness that it rnusi have brought when it finally reached that little far-off town on the river Rhine. Finally the holidays grew near. I had told the head of the house Billy's story and the day before Christmas the latter was surprised to find in an en velope that was handed him a crisp SIOO bill. It was a large gift, but one which its ge crons donor could afford. Billy first tried to thank him, and then broke down and cried. There, Billy,* he said, a suspicious ■ moisture in hiis eyes. "I want you to •end tor that sweetheart of yours right away, and from the £r>t, jqux wagea i TO IMOIVK—CHARITY TO AlhT-. DOUGLASVILLE. GEORGIA. THURSDAY. OCTOBER 22,1885 are to be increased $5 a week.’’ And then a second letter this time bringing joy and gladness jn its train, winged its way to distant Germany. When a month had passed there j came a response that was full of love , and hope. In it Miua announced her intention of starting for America in several weeks. Billy went about his work with a light heart, the letter placed carefully away in his pocket so that he could read it twenty times a day. Aud then, just when happiness seemed within his grasp, he paid the penalty of some imprudence by a severe attack of pneumonia. He was taken to the hospital and tenderly cared for. When it became known that he was sick all the boys would ask about him, and not a few Howers and fruits found their way to his room. There were kindly wishes expressed on all sides for Billy’s speedy recovery. I had just returned from work one day when a knock came at my door. A messenger boy was on the outside with a note in his hand. It was from one of the doctors in the hospital. Billy was worse, it said, and wished to see me very much indeed. So I put on my hat and overcoat and prepared to face the blinding snowstorm. When I finally entered the room the doctor who was in attendance gravely shook his head. One glance at Billy’s face told me that he was sinking fast. I softly went up to him, and, opening his eyes, the poor fellow reached out his hand with a smile upon his face. "Meester Raymond —it was with the greatest difficulty he spoke— "you’ve gome. I vas gladt, sair, gladt Mina He handed me a strip of paper that was crumpled up in his hand. It waa./ a telegram. In it Mina announced her safe arrival at New York. She wanted Wilhelm to meet her at the Littlfi Miami depot that night. Billy lookers up at me with an anxious look in hia eyes. "All right, old friend,” I said, with a glance at my watch. "Tho train is almost due now. 1 will bring her to you.” He gave my hand a silent pressure, and 1 hurried away. By the time I reached the depot the train had already arrived. In the almost-deserted wait ing-room I found a young Gertsan giri talking confusedly to the trainmen It was Mina, I knew, and I went uj» to ; her. I It took me some time to explain to comfort “Ah, Mina, dear one. do not cry,” he said, in the language of his beloved Fatherland. “It will not be long npw before I am well again, and tnen we will be happy—so happy.” But it was not to be. When the chill, gray dawn stole in at the win dow Buly was asleep with Mina’s hand still clasped in his own. But it was the sleep that knows no waking! This was years ago. Mina is living out now on Walnut hills. I often see her with a look of trouble on her pale, sweet face, that time has softened, and my heart goes out to her. Gen. C. F. Smith at Fort Donelson. From General Lew Wallace’s illus trated account of the capture of Fort Donelson, in the December Century, quote tho following: “Taking Lau man’s brigade General Smith began the advance. They were under fire instant ly. The guns in the fort joined in with the infantry who were at the time in the rifle-pits, the great body of the Confederate right wing being withGen \ eral Buckner. The defense was great- Ily favored by the ground, which sub jected the assailants to a double fire from the beginning of the abatis. The men have said that ‘it looked too thick I for a rabbit to get through.’ General , Smith, on his horse, took position in ; the front and center of the line. Occa sionally he turned in his saddle to see i how the alignment was kept. For the most part, however, he held his fa«e ' steadily toward the enemy. He was, of course, a conspicuous object for the i sharpshooters in the rifle-pits. The air around him twittered with minie bullets. Erect as if on review, he rode . on, timing the gait of his horse, with the movement of his colors. A soldier said: ‘I was nearly scared to death, but I saw the old man's white mustache over his shoulder, and went on.’ “On to the abatis the regiments mov ed without hesitation, leaving a trail of dead and wounded behind. There the fire seemed to grow treblv hot, and there some of tho men halted, whereup on, seeing the hesitation,General Smith [ nut his cap on the point of his sword, held it aloft, and called out, ‘No flinch- ’ ing now. lads!—Here—this is the ■ wav! Come on!' He picked a path : through the jagged limbs of the trees, i holding his cap all the time in sight; 1 and tla> effect was magical. The men ; swarmed in after him, and got through : <in the Iwt order they could—not all of i them, alas! On the other side of the I obstruction they took the semblance of re-formation and charged in after their ! chief, who found himself then between the two fires. Up the ascent he rode; ' up they followed. At the last moment ■ the keepers of the rifle-pits clam lie red I out and fled. The four regiments en gaged in the feat—the Twenty-fifth In diana, and the Second. Seventh, and . Fourteenth lowa—planted their colors on the breastwork. And the gray-hair ed hero set his cap jauntily on his bead, pulled his mustache, and rode along the front, chiding them awhile, then laughing at them. He had come to i stay. Later in the day, Buckner came back with his division; but all bis es- i forts to dislodge Smith were vain.” , Maria Ward and John Randolph. One of the saddest and most roman tic love affairs in the social annals of I Virginia, writes E. L. Didier, in Harp er's Magazine for April, was that of Maria Ward and John Randolph of Roanoke. Beginning in his early boy ’ hood, it became the one enthralling passion of his manhood, filling his : whole being until, as he himself said, ■ | “he loved her better than his own soul ; or Him that created it.” There is a | picture of John Randolph in the rooms I of the Virginia Historical society, I taken„at the time when he was the ac cepted lover of Maria Ward. It repre -1 i sents a singularly handsome youth of I 25, h]>eyes dark and full of intellect, his iHuuth beautifully formed, and over 1 his proud and lofty forehead fell a pro fusion of dark hair. The breaking off of the. affair is wrapped in mystery. All we know is, that ope summer he rode up to the house, and after a long interview in the parlor the lady left the room in tears, while he rusheef from the house, mounted his horse, and rode He never saw her again; but one day he approached a house where she was staying while she was singing in the parlor. Fascinated by the sound of her voice he lingered on the porch, and sent ip from time to time a request for her to sing one after another the tender little ballads which were associated with their loves. Maria Ward sang unconscious of her lover’s presence, while,he rushed frantically up and dowtfTthe porch in an agony of grief, waving hia arms, and crying in the anguish of his heart: "Macbeth hath murdered sleep; Macbeth shall sleep no more?” J. Maria Ward married Peyton Ran j 4nlph. son of Edmund Randolph, who .governor of Virginia, the first at | torney-general of the United States, and Mjcretary of state under Washing ton. This lady was distinguished for the exquisite grace and fascination of her manners and her bright wit. Her . portrait re (presents a lovely girl of 16, ' I v. 4 th wondtous blue eyes, exquisitely I delicate complexion, a profusion of brown curls, and in the quaint costume of the last century. Maria AV ard died in 1826, aged 42 yciprs. Aliccfotemporary accounts unite in describing her as possessing a singu lar fascination of manners, a charming sweetness and amiability of disposition, an eachanting gayety and esprit, and a peculiar, irresistible, personal loveli ness. VAt the time of her death she ; was sii*t as fresh as the summer rose. in mind and manners as hear?-nf John ihtudcl'phyi RiXinoke. ; .ThK North Georgia marble is sat'd to ? bo tkc finest in the ivbrld. A local qu ary man has just cut a counter six teonTeet in length and four feet broad out of one solid block. He says: “Wo could supply a flawless marble column eighty feet song and five feet in diame ter. A hundred years from to-day the quarries will have been jjarely touched, i The supplj’ of marble of surpassing quality and of every shade of color is exhaustlessdj Recognition at Sea. In view of the many first-class lines now crossing the Atlantic, the question that at first suggests itself upon seeing a steamer in the distance is: To what line does she belong? Is she an Inman, Guion, White Star, or Allen boat, or is she a Cunarder? To the uninitiated all steamers look alike at sea, aud it is frequently a puzzle to the passengers to understand how the officers can tell so readily on being asked—even if the strange steamer be passed at night—to what line she belongs. Each line has a distinctive “funnel mark” by which its steamers can be told by day, and a distinctive kind of firework signal by which they can be known by night. When you see a steamer whose funnel is two-thirds red, with a white band and a black top, you may know that she is an “Allen liner.” I If at night she sends up blue, white and I red rockets in succession, she belongs to the same line. An "American” line steamer will | will have a funnel the lower part of,! which is red, with a white keystone,’ painted on it; above these will be a , narrow white band, jvith a black top. j The night signal is OTSt a red light, fol-‘; lowed by a Roman candle throwing six j red balls, and then another red light. If a steamer's funnel is buff, with a ; black top she is a “White Star” boat, i and her night signal will be a green light and a rocket throwing two green i stars. When you see a black funnel, with a ! white band about a third from the top, it will show an Inman steamer: and a i night signal of blue lights forward and , i aft, with a red light on the bridge and I • a variegated rocket, vou will know she I . belongs to the same line. The Cunard line is known in tho ■ daytime by a red funnel with a black ! ’ top, aud at night by two rockets and | , blue lights simultaneously. I If the funnel is black,’ with a red i | band two-thirds of the way up, it is j that of a Guion steamer, to which line | i the famous Alaska and Arizona belong. ! j The night signal of the line is blue j ! lights burned forward, aft, and on the • ’ bridge simultaneously. A steamer with a white funnel, with j | a black top to it will be a National line boat, and her signal at night will be a blue light, followed by a rocket, and. , then a red light. The Anchor line boats have black \ funnels without any mark, and the : i night signal is red and white lights | burned alternately. Boston Tran- , i script. It is statea that William Thaw, of Pittsburg, is worth $25,000,000. It I ■ will be a cold day when Thaw geu left. Lustra Painting. These are among the newest of the “art crazes,” differing from some in that they really are artistic in charac ter, presenting quite a beautiful effect. They may be appMed to plush, satin, or . any fabric usually decorated by em broidery. Kensington painting imi tates crewel-and-floss embroidery, and is at the same time easier of execution. • Oil colors are used and an embroidery design is copied, every stitch being imitated by a stroke of a fine brush or pen, the brush being used for the lar ger stitches, the pen for blending or stitches too small for the brush. Pre pared gold pens are sold for the pur i pose, but a steel one will answer. Lustra painting also imitates em broidery, but more remotely. Properly speaking, it resembles flowers or leaves made of colored bronzes; thence its name, meaning literally lustrous. The colors for lustra painting are made from bronze powders. They are mixed by the artist with prepared liquids, of which there are two, the "special medium” for all other colors. The fol lowing are the principal colors em ployed: Pale gold, rich gold, green gold, lemon, orange, fire brown, pale pink, middle pink, carmine, dull red, shaded blues and green, purple, spark ling silver, silver, steel and black. A china palette is used. Nearly all of the colors are employed as prepared, but yellow, greens, red-browns, and the like are produced by mixing. Lustra painting is broadly decorat ive; so bold, free designs are the only ones admissible, fine, delicate lines and shadings being almost impossible of attainment in lustra. The design may first be outlined in silk, as in embroid ery, or merely sketched in with paint. To work upon plush the color should be about the consistency of syrup, but for lighter fabrics thinner paint is de sirable. The sparkling colors are used for high lights, the dul l ones for deep shadows. The former may be height ened, the latter deepened by glazing over the ground a sparkling or dull color, as the case may be. To regulate the lights and shades imagine that the light fulls upon the top of the object, thus throwing the upper part into high light, the lower into deep slfkdow, causing a scale of middle tints between. Harmony of tones and brilliant effect are all that can be realized in lustra, color, pure and simple, being a second ary Conventional flow-- ers may depar 4 ‘ their natural models to any/^ x^ent - AU flowers may” ba readily imiW*®^—that is, remotely 1 —in lustra, crimson ones. These ha and f crimson coiurs, lighted with ' carmine, a color. Iq painting I stamens itmpstils wait until the petals 61’the flower dry and draw ovoe.l them with cow.-- flowers as the golden-rod paint only the mass, attempting to delineate the small and indistinct petals. Lustra paifitiiig, like Kensington is easy of execution. The only guides for either are practice and the worker’s own taste.—New York Sun. An Easter Story. I must tell you what our Daisy did on Easter Sunday. She is only four years old, and mam ma does not take her to church because she is such a baby yet she will go to sleep. But Easter Sunday she wanted to go so much mamma said she could. It was a lovely morning, and Daisy looked lovely, too, 'only she wouldn’t put her hands in her muff; that was queer, I thought as she would persist in having her muff, although Winter was over. When we got to church mamma went in the pew first and Daisy next, and then me (I’m Daisy’s brother Will), and then Harry (he’s Daisy’s little brother), and last, papa. Daisy kept awake a long time; but at last her eyes would button up tight, and «be went sound asleep. The sermon was over, and there was I a little stir as the people straightened up and put their hands in their pock- ! ets to get out some money. Just before the plate got to our pew ’ II heard a little “me-ow,” then I heard it again; and what do you think! Daisy’s little kitten walked out of the muff Hurry hiughed; he couldn’t help it I didn’t, but I felt as if 1 wanted to. Mamma took Kitty and put her in the corner and covered her with the end of Daisy’s I guess she went to sleep. When church was but I put Miss Kitty in my overcoat pocket After we reached home mamma • asked Daisy why she took kitty to church, and what do you think she said? That she took kitty to give as her Easter offering, because that was the very “bestest” thing she had. Mamma had told Harry and me to i give something we cared for as our Easter offering, so Harry gave up can dy and saved his money, and I gave up something too. It secuicd Daisy heard us talking, a*id thought she would give up some thing. and hers was the "bestest” give-up of all, mamma said.—Presby terian Journal. All the animals were sitting around quietly after the afternoon perform ance, and the giraffe was thoughtfully observing her colt snuffing about the lamps at the top of the center-pole, i “Young man,” she said at last, as he ; thrust about eleven and a half linear feet of neck through an opening in the i canvas to look out upon the world, : “telescope yourself in out of the damp i October air. A colt with a swallowing thing like a telegraph pole has no busi ness tampering with the croup. "-Bur- ; lington £tawkeye. NUMBER 36 A Nation of Egg-Eaters. > "There are at least. 50,000,000 eggs i consumed daily in the United States/’ - said a wholesale dealer near Washing ton market to a reporter. “That is over 4,000,000 dozen, and at • an average price will amount to at least ■ SBO,OOO. Think of the outlay and bus iness activity required to handle this enormous quantity. The American people are egg-eaters. As a general : thing the supply is equal to the de mand, but about three years ago late ■ after January wfe ran ashore on domes- ’ tic eggs. What was the result? Eu- * - rope be<ran to ship us pickled eggs by the millions. Shiploads came over. Prices went down, and the European pickled eggs at fourteen cents a dozen became immensely popular. This al most ruined our home egg market. During the months of April and May the eggs are pickled by means of a so lution of lime water. They are kept until November and December, and then come in to lower the market. Fresh eggs, though, are worth thirty cents a dozen.” "Where do the eggs in the United States principally come from?” "From Jersey, Delaware, Virginia, North and South Carolina, and Mary j land. The western- States, of course, furnish large quantities, but not so much as the Stales mentioned. Nine teen million two hundred thousand eggs were shipped from Europe to this country since the first of April to Sep tember. They come from Belgium, Copenhagen, Hamburg, and the great est egg market in the world, Antwerp. But all these European eggs are pick- Jed, and although not half so good as the fresh, yet they have the effect of lowering prices. All of the peasantry in Germany, Belgium, and Hollani raise large quantities of fowL But in the United States a few farmers only pay attention to the industry.” “What is the reason that the farmers in the United States do not raise more fowls?” "Simple enough. They have been in the habit of making large profits from stock and grain and other prod ucts, and thought egg-raising too slow. They see their mistake now, and in less than ten years eggs will be exported instead of imported.” “How will the increase come about?” "If this new experiment of hatching e £g s 6y means of heaters proves suc cessful, then bacon and beef as life-sus*- j/taining foods will perhaps be supplant ed. Thus far the results on a limited scale have proven successful, and the _ old hen, instead of wasting days over a oe iwitiM*-*, her wffrbe made. Every' farmer with eiwerpfisa will have an « egg farm or hatchery, just as the rich have hot-houses now, and send millions to market. New York, per haps, will be the greatest egg center in the world, and ships will be chartered by the wholesale to do export bus iness.”—N. Y. Mail and Express.- Exigency, Not Character. "There is character in every step a person takes,” said a man who thought he knew it all, so far as the science of gait was concerned. “When 1 saw you Sass our hohse the other day, Miss lara, I was impressed by the easy, independent freedom of your walk. Such firm yet gentle strides betrayed the dominant unconventionality of your character.” He was a Doctor of Divinity, and I didn’t care to sffiJs him, but I felt bound in Christian honesty to ask him: “Was I wearing iny brown and Mack plush suit?” He believed so. * “Then I was making a special effort to take long, swinging steps,” I said, “because that is the only way I can make the confounded drapery swish right That meant exigency, not char acter.. See me in my new" dark-blue street costume, with its narrow skirt and internal strappings, and you’ll say I’m a mincer from Mincevillo.”— Clara Belle, in the Cincinnati Enquirer. •The death o? Mrs.* Yulee, the wife of ex-Senator Yulee, who represented Florida in the United States Senate be-' fore the war, closes a career,” says the Atlanta Constitution. She was of a distinguished Maryland family, and reigned as a social beauty.. Yulee, an ungainly young man, sought her hand, when she laughingly replied that, when Senator Yulee presented the suit, she would consent. He went at once to Florida, and was forgotten by the beauty. It was not long until he won his prize, and no one was more surprised than the lady herself when, the Florida Senator claimed the fulfill ment of her promise.” Ellen Ashmore, of Bridgewater, Pa.,! lost her voice through scarlet fever,. and spoke in a whisper for twelve* years. She became a prosperous mil-! liner in Ohio, and lately, when some; of her employes grew rebellious, Miss' Ashmore suddenly exclaimed in a loud voice, "Oh, darn’ these girls!” Since then her voice has been perfectly nat-, - . - f The railway up Vesuvius has already paid for itself; the trains which ascend night and day, are well patronized by native and foreign sight-seers, all strangers ascending nowadays, where as formerly a foot ascent was so irk some that only the daring undertook : the round trip. Tn Ceylon, says tne Tropical Argri j culturist, a patch of four acres planted with cardamoms yielded $6,000 in one! | year. This statement may be worth the attention of those who are trying to raise dates, olives, and tea in Cali* foraia or elsewhere- _ • ——