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VOLUME VII PROFESSIONAL CARDS. Lawyers. JJOBSBT A MASSEI, Attorney at L*w« Douglasville, Ga. (Offlo* in front room, Dorsett** building.) Will prMtiee anywhere exoept in the County Court of Douglas eonnty. W A. JAMES, ~~ 7" Ts • Attorney at Law, Douglasville, Ga. Will practice In al! the courts, State and federal. Office on Court-house Square. yyM. T. ROBERTS, Attorney at I aw, Douglasville, Ga. Will practice in all the eonrts. All legal bus ineee will receive prompt attention. Office in •ourt-heuse. £ ». CAW.’ Attorney at Law. Civil Engineer and Surveyor, Douglasville, Ga. h g G. GRIGGS, K Attorney at Law. Douglasville, Ga KE-’ * ** ’* ■ Willjnaeiiee in all th* courts, State and /HH M. EDGE, Attorney at Law, Douglaaville, Ga W® praeMee in all tiw 4»urta. and prempt yattend to all bustseM entrusted to his ear*. J a JARKA Attorney at Law, Douglasville, Ga Will waettae in the eonrta of Engine, CMnpwL Carroll, Paulding. (x>bb, Fulton Md evening eonnUee, Prompt attention ....... m.*,, i » J 08» Y. EDGE, >' ... ? and Burgeon. Douglasville, Ga /%pwW attenife© to Surgery sad Chronic di»- in either sex. Office up stairs In Doroett’s brick building. p ft. YERDEBY, Physician and Burgeon. Offiee at Hudson A Eds*’* drugstore, where be ean be found at all hours, except when prefeasionaliy ebgagvd. Special attention given to Ohronto caaea, and especially all ease* that have been treated and are eUU uncured. Janie W ly J g KMW Phyatolaxi aatf Bvrgoaa, ntSuS! W#B “** a^"^XSk’ , <£! 4 ~*“ , ‘ I a—M—IIWII —I ~„ue.ii. mire— benum. rp a oooi. ‘ *— Dental Surgeon. Was located in Douglasville. Twenty years’ •sperienw. Dckdatry in ail it* breaches dour ssaei approved style. Otto* over po*t- ! Painter. a sutler. House Paintar. Douglasville, Ga. Wl nab* old furniture look ae well as new. Give him a trial in this Una. Will atoo A bows* earpeaterine work. Knew Hie Own Tail, Anyway. A Kansas correepoodent say*: One noou Waldo and I were going out to boo corn. Aa we walked over toe sod breaking a btowsaak* rw> right in front •f we. Waldo had his hue on bis •boulder. and just let it drop oarelees like on Mr. Snake and cut him in two, pretty near the middle. The head end ran down the furrow fifty yards very rapidly, and disappeared. We hunted twenty mtoutoe for U and couldn’t find his snakeshin. When we returned io ; < the awning I said: “Let’s look at our i mho's tafl and see if H's dead yet; ! oaytt won’t* die till sub down.” | Wd went there and found the head ttkH had crawled up to the tail and «ted ihera, to© weak to walk off with ** r The Weekly Star. To-Morrow. Te sing of to-day with its pleasures and pain, Ye sing of to-day with its sorrow. But often “to-day" is a sad-written page, And so I will sing of to-morrow. To-day when the skies are rainy and dark, Faith and courage we often would borrow, And so we looked forward with hope and with cheer, And say, “twill be pleasant to-morrow." Ob, dreary and sad the present would be If the future no bright dreams did offer; If no golden gleams of beauteous dreams Shone brilliant from ‘morrow’s fair coffer. You tell me to-morrow never will come With its fulness of joy or of sorrow: I trust in a world far fairer than this 1 may find my leng-dreamed-oi-to-morrow. I think though its title be changed to to-day, ff Even then by its absence of sorrow I shall know In that mystical land far away My beautiful vanished tomorrow. A PIOUS FRAUD. Twenty years ago there lived a wid ow lady in the South of France, in a seaside village called Compiegne, near Marseilles, who had occupied the same house for half a century, affd was es teemed as a kind friend to the poor. For a French lady, she was, conspi cuously wealthy, having an income of about eighty thousand francs a year; and this income she had enjoyed for fifty years, to the constant benefit of the neighborhood in which she lived. But the evil day came at last, and this, too, in her old age, when she lost al most the whole of her large property: some said through the perfidy of her broker; some, through rash ventures or speculations; and some, through her honorable desire to pay the gambling debts of a brother who had lost his hon or as he had lost everything else. Be the secret what it might—and it was never cleared up--she was so reduced as to be practically penniless, having sold even her jewels and her library, and keeping nothing but her household furniture and effects. The house that she lived in was not her own. She rented it from a not too amiablo landlord. This landlord was as much disliked in the neighborhood as the lady was affectionately esteemed; and when the time came that the lady was so impoverished as to be unable even to pay six months’ rent, the land lord was perhaps the only man in the whole neighborhood whose pity was shadowed uy self-interest. He did not so much as express sympathy with his old tenant. Though she had paid him a handsome rental for so long a time —the villagers said for forty-eight years—the landlord was a man who had but one idea of humanity, and that was to get his own at quarterday. Wo must not presufim to pBV tturasuiW’- ©« W landlord. Those are men, excel- SjHfo, wbw-a «onc weakness Mor such an absorbent of ail the : | forgie ©I their character that they have 'no’capacity left for appreciating any- i thing else, and must be regarded as ir> ‘ responsible idiots. Now it so happened that, about a mile from the lady s house, there lived ; a gentleman who had grown rich by picture-fancying. The name of this gentleman was Monsieur Gratton. He was considered to be one of the best judges of pictures, not only in the neighborhood, but in all France. His • word fixed the vaiue of any painting. And so wondrous was his gift of dis- < crimination that, he had beep sent sot i to Paris by the Government of his day J to settle rare disputes on art subjects < It was said of him that he could tell a i Vernet from a Gaspar Poussin by one | glance of his type-discerning eye; that, £ on one occasion, when, at first sight ot t a fine picture, he was asked, “Can this be French or Italian?” he replied in- ; itantly, “Neither, sir; it is a George Morland;” and that he had even turned the jest on some art critics in ; Vienna, who had labelled a picture wrongly to deceive him. .Now this gentleman, who had amassed a largo fortune—some said five millions of francs- by bn happy knack of “picking up unsuspected Ems,” was well known to the hard idlord. and still better known to the lady whom ill-fortune had now placed I in the landlord's power. He hsu been deeply grieved to hear of the lady’s re cent troubles. And he became savage —downright spiteful—when the news reached bis ears that his lady-friend was about to be “sold up.” Without loss of a moment he called : to see the lady. He begged her, most respectfully, yet most earnestly, to per mit him to defray the trifling debt ! She conld repay him, he suggested, in a few months or years, if she preferred a loan, and would decline to accept a gift; but meanwhile he implored her not to let so small a sum—not to lot so biu all a service on his part—staud in the way of her saving her “household gods ” The lady was grateful, but ob durate. If the landlord, she said must injure anyone, it had best be that per son who was his debtor; and, for her ; part, she was not unhappy in the con templation of at least honorably dis charging a just debt. So the worst came to the worst at ; the appointed time. All the villagers were full of sorrow for-the kind lady, j Many of them dubbed together, and tried to raise the fnil amount, which was no more than two thousand five J hundred francs; but the lady, when she heard of it, instantly stopped the •übscriplxm. and assured the good vil lager* taat “it was ot no importance.” ’ Indeed, aha bore up so serenely under I her sudden change of fortune that she ? might be said to be as admirable in ad- I vswsity as she has been m her usea of i great wealth The data of the public sale was duly advertised in the newspapers; and the huge placards which were posted all about the village ware read with tear- ! ful eywe by many villager*; “To be •odd, by auction, oa toe morning ot Tueaday, Seetemoer Uth. at eleven to e’tdeeh. Iff* 1 FAWNINO TO NONE—CHARITY TO ALT,. DOUGLASVILLE. GEORGIA. THURSDAY. OCTOBER 29,1885. and contents of the Villa Antoinette, 1 ’ etc., was the announcement which occasioned grief to a hundred friends, and which aroused no little resentment against the landlord. Accordingly, on a fine morning in September, just twenty years ago—in 1865—a little crowd was gathered early round the Villa Antoinette, and not a few persons passed within the villa. Everyone of note, or rather everyone who had money, was anxious to secure some souvenir from the sale, indeed, many persons were present, not to buy anything for themselves, but to “buy in” what could be bought for the kind lady. And here it must be mentioned & that the law of France, in regard to sales, is more considerate and more just than in the English law; for it is not permitted, in a French sale by auc tion, to sell one stick more than is re quired to pay the debt; so that the mo ment the exact amount is reached, the auctioneer is obliged to lay down his hammer. In this particular case, the exact amount to be covered was two thousand seven hundred and fifty francs —the amount of the debt with the expenses—so that it was hoped that the really valuable furniture, including not a few rare antiques, might not, all of it, be scattered to the winds. The auctioneer commenced business at twelve o’clock. By this time most of the rooms were quite full. There were present —strange efiroutcry!—the landlord of the villa, who smiled his welcome to many a visitor who did not love him; and also the distinguished picture-fancier, Monsieur Gratton, of whom mention has been made just above. The landlord and picture-fan cier shook hands. Why not? Hands meet in this world when hearts are fair i apart, just as heads are often uncover ed by reluctant hands. “Language was given to.conceal our thoughts,” and politeness was given us well, to conceal the degree of disrespect which we may interiorly entertain for those we greet. The landlord and the picture-fancier lived in the same neigh borhood. it was less trouble to be civil than to be candid. Yet some versons smiled when they saw the amiable picture-fancier ex changing normal, polite greetings with the landlord. It had been whispered about that “Monsieur Gratton, the great picture-fancier, had tried to settle this affair out of court,” and had made overtures to the landlord—which had not been accepted—for the pacific set tlement of the debt without a sale. Be tnis as it might, there was no sign of pacification in the fact that the auc tioneer had arrived; nor in the handing j übout oOfriuted catalogues of the sale;' nor in }tlie" marked “Lots” whicmtt stared .Wervbody in the .fa«*» ; Monsieui Gratton looked blandly I the landlord. And there was, perhaps, I I more than a touch of irony in the voice E I of Monsieur Gratton—who was a cult- I ured gentleman as well as a judge of pictures —when, saluting the hard-land lord, he said, in his suavest tones, “Monsieur, je votis souhaite le bon jour.” And now the picture-fancier moved about the room—the room in which the sale was to take place. Naturally, i being a picture-fancier, he would look < at the pictures; and be did took at I them, with a laxy indifierencA From : one picture to another picture ho ! passed somewhat quickly, with that i sort of unattractedness which, if ex i pressed in honest language, might be ! summed up in the comment, “What I rubbish!” He had moved nearly round f the room, with an air of calm con- U ! tempt, casting a glance on this water- I color, ou that oil-painting, when sud denly bis eye became arrested by some j object which seemed to claim just his momentary attention; and. standing opposite a small picture, he felt for his eye-glass, and then put it ostentatious ly into his eye. In another minute he had taken the picture off its stand; he bad seated himself leisurely in an arm chair; he was caressing the picture with an obvious artistic interest; and the whole room—all who were present ; i —were observing him. The auctioneer commenced business i as follows: “Gentlemen, in the order of the catalogue, the pictures stand first for your competition. These pic- l lures are not, perhaps, by great artists —that is, not by artists with great names—but you will see that they are, all of them, good pictures. Now, here ; we have Lot One. (Monsieur Achille, • please torn that picture to the light, |- and just draw the curtains back from the windows; I thank you.) Here we have Lot One. a really capital water- I color by that rising young artist, Henri ; Duran. What shall we say, gentle- I men, for this very pretty picture?” And the picture was knocked down i for twenty francs. •Lot Two,” proceeded the | eer, swiftly, “is really a fine oil-paint- ‘ ing, by Lecroix—a grand picture! Shall : we say two hundred francs, to begin with?” But sixty francs was all that “the grand picture” could be flattered into bringing into the treasury. • Lot Three,” now said the auction- j eer. after a short pause, and apparent ly looking about toe room to discover it “All! 1 see that Monsieur Gratton ; is admiring it! Monsieur Gratton,” said the now pleased auctioneer, “yon have Lot Three in your lap, and are ’ ( caressing it! You will tell us, sir, what you think of this picture?” And Monsieur Gratton woke up ae ?• from a reverie. He seemed to bare been anconscions of the auctioneer. He immediately handed “Lot Three, te one of the assistants, and then relapeec i into a calm state of indifference, as though he bad forgotten what had in terested him “This » a small picture by—Ah! th* name is not given.” continued the sue oneer. as though inquiringly. “P*r- 1 -ap* Monsieur Gratton can oblige at , st teUauff u* wtee wm the wittnMr es ’ tfiis picture?” But Monsieur Gratton simply shook his head, negatively, signifying that ho neither knew nor cared. The auc tioneer therefore proceeded with the sale. “The title of this picture is ‘The • First Streak of Dawn.’ W’hat shall wo say for this clever picture?” And no one making a bid. Monsieur Gratton, the picture-fancier, in iaay tones, “Fifty francs.” “Fifty francs!” echoed the busy auc tioneer. “Any advance, gentlemen,on had been watching Monsieur Gratton, and had seen that he had been greatly struck with this little picture, stepped forward and examined it with care. Whether fired by admiration, or by emufcHpg- r by greed, he decided that make a bid. So, as Tioohe eTse spoke, he looked at the auctioneer, and said, somewhat bash fully, “Sixty francs. ” Monsieur Gratton looked at him quite surprised. What on earth could Ae know about a picture? After* a very brief pause, and after one look at the landlord, he said, with calm confidence, "One hundred francs.” A smile then lit the countenances of many present And the smile became broadened into a kind of chuckle when the landlord, as though inspired with a fine envy, boldly broke out into, ‘CTwo hundred francs.” Monsieur Gratton looked annoyed, and not good-tempered, but very quick ly responded with, “Three hundred.” “Fotir,” said the landlord, almost immediately. At this point Monsieur Gratton, who had not left his arm-chair, rose and walked quietly to the auctioneer, utter ing, however, the two words, “Five hundred,” as though he intended that bid to be the final one. “Six hundred,” said the landlord. “A thousand francs,” said Monsieur Gratton, rather peevishly, obviously bored yrith the landlord’s interfer ence. “Twelve hundred.” said the land lord. “Fifteen,” said Monsieur Gratton. “Two thousand francs,” cried the landlord, while the people in the room began to look at one another, and to wonder what this rivalry could por tend. “Two thousand five hundred,” said Monsieur Gratton, at the same time taking the notes out of his pocket-book, and proceeding to count them for s settlement. The landlord, feeling his dignity to be at stake—at least, that was the ex terior impression—with but litUe hesi |a.tfott;'cap{>ed this last generous bid I with the still more nerods offer of hree thousandJ* I # £ “Ah, well! 4 said Monßeur Gratton, shrugging his shoulders, and putting his pocket-book back into his pocket, “I really cannot bid any more.” And he smilingly went "back to his arm chair. “That stops the sale,” said the auc tioneer. sharply. And a great hubbub of talk filled the room. Nor had the sale lasted more than twenty minutes. The landlord, by his one bid tor the picture, bad fully cov ered his tenant’s debt and the expenses, so that alfthat had been sold of the good lady’s property were three pic tures, and not a stick of the furniture. Nothing could have been more satis factory. So the crowd now dispersed, each one to his own home; and many a surprise was expressed, and many a criticism was hazarded, as to the why of '-this spasmodic rivalry for the picture. “Take my word for it,” said one good villager to another, as they wended their way home through the village lanes, “Monsieur Gratton, the picture fancier, knew what he was about when he offered a good price for that picture. He never buys a bad picture. If he offered two thousand five hundred J francs, that picture is worth at least six thousand. The landlord has got hold of a masterpiece, and Ae knew that when Monsieur Gratton bid high.” “Diff you notice,” answered the oth er, “how Monsieur Gratton looked at the picture? Why, he took the picture in his lap, and then he looked at the -hack of it, and then he looked into the comers, and then he turned the picture upside down, and then he took a mag nifier and seemed to look under the frame, as though he would discover some old writing. Depend upon it, -4hafe«i©turs is a gem. Mon Dku ! what It is to a thing! Now you or I fosght have passed over that picture and never thought it worth more than the rest of them. These savanis, as j they call them, are wonderful men.” And precisely the same range of ideas ; was passing through the mind of the landlord as he carefully wrapped the picture in a pmee of silk, and then wrapped it in another soft folding. To have outwitted a supreme judge of turns, and to have more than covered the full amount which was due to him (for he intended to sell that picture for its full value), were two satisfactions which seemed to him to compensate for the unpleasantness of “selling up a widow.” The following morning the landlord : started early, to make a call upon Mon- ’ sieur Gratton, the picture-fancier. It ( was barely ten o’clock when the land lord arnv. d.and he was at once shown into the presence he desired. s^o3sieur Gratton received him very graciously. Monsieur Gratton. talked j briskly, and was unusually voluble—on i every subject save that of yesterday’s ■ sale. The more the landlord tried to • •gead up” to that subject, the more j ord Monsieur Gratton lead away from ' it, till at last, utterly daunted in every j effort to “drag it in.” the landlord took : h<« hat and was departing. But ns- ’ turn was too strong to be vanquished, j The landlord had called with ene hfoffltarr and Im oedM I away withdul succeeding. So, sum moning all his courage, as he was back ing out of the room, and as Monsieur Gratton was suavely bowing his adieux, he said, abruptly— "Oh! Monsieur Gratton, pray pardon • me for asking you—l know I have no business to do so —but why did you take a fancy to that little picture?” “Why did 1 take a fancy to that little picture?” echoed Monsieur Gratton, as though surprised; “that little picture! What little picture? Ah! you mean the little picture I wanted to buy, but which you so unkindly took from me. Yes, I must say I thought it shabby of you to supplant me,” said Monsieur Gratton, laughing gaily and good-hu moredly. “Now, might I ask you,” continued the landlord, quite diffidently, “since, of course, you Know these matters bet ter than I do: what might be the value, the pecuniary value, of that really very . charming little picture?” "Pecuniary value—that little picture —pecuniary value!” re-echoed Mon sieur Gratton,looking surprised; “upon my word, I have not the smallest idea. I am sure I never gave the subject a thought. Pecuniary value! Oh! I dare lay twenty francs,or twenty-five francs. But really, I have not considered the point judicially.” “Twenty francs, or twenty-five francs!” exclaimed the landlord, utter ly unable to hide his disgust; "twenty francs, or twenty-five francs, it’s full value! You are jesting, Mosieur Grat ton, you are jesting!” "Jesting!” responded the picture fancier, quite gravely; “why should I jest upon such a subject? You ask me a very simple question, and I give you a very truthful answer.” "Then why, sir—l say, why sir,” asked the landlord, with suppressed passion, “did you bid two thousand five hundred francs for that picture?” “Really, Monsieur le Proprietaire,” replied Monsieur Gratton, with a grav ity and an innocence that were quite crushing, “you astonish me by s© curious a question. If a man takes a fancy to a picture, or if he wishes to possess it as a souvenir of a kind lady for whom he has the very highest es teem,-mny he not bid what he likes for it ? At least you, sir, were evidently el that opinion 1” ______ A Centenarian. It was here that we made the ac quaintance of a colored woman, a withered, bent old pensioner of the house, whose industry (she excelled any modern apple-parer) was unabat ed, although she was by her own con fession (a woman, we believe, never owns her age till she has p&ssadJtbis pofint) and the teatitoony of otKrs a hundred years Bid, Bus age haff not impaired the brightness ot her eyes, nor the limberiiess of her tongue, nor her shrewd good sense. She talked freely about the want of decency and morality in the young colored folks of the present day. It wasn’t so when she was a girl. Long, long time ago, she and her husband had been sold at i sheriff’s sale and separated, and she never had another husband. Not that she blamed her master so much—he couldn't help it, he got in debt And she expounded her philosophy about the rich and the danger they are in. The great trouble is that when a per son is rich he can borrow money so easy, and he keeps drawin’ it out of the bank and pilin’ up the debt like rail* on top of one another, till it needs a ladder to get on to the pile, and then it all comes down in a neap, and the man has to begin on the bottom rail again. If she’d to live her life over again, she’d lay up money; never cared much about till now. The thrifty, shrewd old woman still walked about a goodwleal, and kept her eye on the neighborhood. Going out that morning she had seen some fence up the road that needed mending, and she told Mr. Devault that she didn’t like such shift less n ess; she didn’t know as white folks was much better than colored folks. Slavery? Yes, slavery was pretty bad —she had seen five hun dred niggers in handcuffs, all together ic a field, sold to be sent South.— tAarfes Dudley Warner in October At lantic. What a Baby Can Da It can wear out asl pair of kid shoes in twenty-four hours. It can keep its father busy advertis ing in the newspaper for a nurse. It can occupy both sides of the lar gest-sized bed manufactured simultan eously. It can cause its father to be insulted | : by every second-class boarding-house I keeper in the city who “never take | children,” which in nine cases out of 1 j ten m very fortunate for the children. It can make itself look like a fiend just when mamma wants to know “what a pretty baby she has.” It han make an old bachelor in the room adjoining use language that, if < uttered on the street, would get him to the penitentiary for two years. It can go from the furthest end of * I the room to the foot of the stairs in the j 1 i ball adjoining quicker than its mother • 1 can jus* step into the closet and out 1 : again. . < It can go to sleep ‘‘like a little an- J 3 gel,” and just as mamma and papa ’ are starting for the theatre it can wake : up and stay awake until the last act i These are some things that a baby j can do. But there are other things as J 1 well A baby can make the est home the brightest spot on earth. > i , It can lighten the burden* of a loving i , mother’s life by adding to them. U " can flatten its dirty little face against 1 the window pan* in such away that 1 the tired father can see it u a picture i before he round* the eorner. Yea, 1 ; babie* are great institution*, partico- j i lariy use’s aw* balw. Afrimwuw (M |; I f.) JtattpeeMttHK. NUMBER 37 WIT AND HUMOR. “I say, Bobby,” whispered Feather ly, was your sister pleased to learn, that I had called upon her?” Prof. J. L. Sullivan is more popular in Boston than the Puritan—and he is only a whaling craft at that— Philadel phia Press. A poet sings: “1 see the flush upon thy cheek. ”If this is the case, that poet would do well to lay down his band unless he can beat it.— Puck. i l *TCes, indeed she was,” replied Bob by. “When mother told her that Mr. Featheriy had called while she was out she said, “ThankHeaven!”— New York Hun. Neither bustles nor corsets are worn in Japan, and when a Japanese maid en sits down in a skating rink she gets her money’s worth every time.— Burlington Free Press. Explained.—Auger (a young author) —“There seems to be a conspiracy against me among the publishers.” Gimlet—“ How so?” Auger—“ They have all of them declined the same thing.”— Puck. The brewer who maketh good beer in the day and putteth a good head ou it is better than he who drinketh the beer at night and waketh up in the morning with a good head on himself. —Stockton Maverick. There are thirteen widows living on one street about 300 yards long in Americus, Ga. The city authorities propose to put up at each end of the street a sign: “Dangerous passing.” Somerville Journal. Nautical husband (jokingly)—“O, I’m the mainstay of the family.” Wife ' —“Yes, and the jibboom, and the— and the ” Small boy (from exper ience) —“And the spanker, too, mamma.”— Troy Press. Frank J. Black, the genial and bril liant jfoung journalist who writes about medieval theology and other lit tle things, made us a "very pleasant call last evening. We were not in at the time—Pwnesufowney Tribune. The Rev. Phillips Brooks recently spoke <or half an hour at the rate of 213 words per minute, which proves conclusively that there is nothing a woman can do which a man cannot do just as well or better.— Lowell Citizen. Ella Wheeler sings “body and heart seemed shaken, thrilled, and startled by that greeting.” An enthusiastic A; admirer thinks that some big fisteOK fellow must have slapped Ella on the 4 back and asked her how the weather suited her.—Aew York Journal. “I am just as much opposed to tip pling as anybody,” said Feaderson; “bifo, nevertheless, liquor rightly used is a< oieas.iig to humiuMtvA WEeuT* “ was ill last winter, 1 actually believed it saved my life.” Fogg—“Very like- . ly; but how does that prove that liquor is a blessing to humanity?”— Poston Transcript. A well-educated young lady in Rich- ; mond wants aposition as teacher in Danville. She has passed the giggling age, but is not too old to be a very • agreeable companion, and the editor of Viis paper can heartily recommend her to any family desiring an intelli gent teacher and companion.—Dan ville (F».) Uegister. K morning paper has this truly sen sational heading to one of its columns: “Edward Graul shoots a woman with whom he was madly in love three times.” Nothing is more common than a man’s being in love three times, but it is not usually with the same wo man.—San Franciscan. There is a growing fear among the sentimental ladies of St. Louis society that Maxwell may prove to be a gen tleman, a scholar, and an innocent man after all. If such proves to be the case they should prosecute him for ob taining adoration under false preten ses.— Leavenworth (Kas.) Times. Mias Clara Louise Kellogg has been out West singing to enthusiastic au diences of cowboys and miners. In re lating her experience at Butte City, Mias Kellogg says: “One lady came 200 miles to hear me, and said she was well paid for toe trip." Any one who would travel so far to hear Clara Louise would have to be well paid.— TAe Rambler. "In the first place, brethren,” said a camp-meeting orator last night, “we must be careful of what we say, and in the second place”—there was some noise in the congregation caused by people coming in and the speaker paused—“in the second place,” re peated the speaker, and again he paused, and a small boy arose and cried out: “The Allegheny* are in the second place; Cincinnati got licked.” —Pittsburg Chronicle-Telegraph. Late inventions—A thunder-rod for people who are liable to be ‘ ‘thunder struck” on receiving unexpected intel ligence; a grindstone for people who are in the habit of "grinding their teeth” when they are iu anger; a de vice for grubbing people who are “rooted to the spot;” a patent air ship for restoring people to their homes who are "carried away with emotion,*? “transported with delight,” etc.; a steam-roller for people “petri fied with astonishment”— Boston Cour ier. An English visitor at one of the smaller spas in Germany was com- E' g the other day to a garcon at si that the water he took really not to have the slightest effect, so far as he was concerned. “But you see, monsieur,” replied the waiter, who, it should be said, was under no tice to quit his place, “It is necessary to be patient Now, I well remember a lady at this hotel last season who took too waters, and she did not die until she had been here elose upon six months.”— London Figaro. **»ew** rw her qrtoug, Jen-