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BY FREEMAN & BRO.
In? (faUumn Himes.
Queries for Inquirers.
Is it anybody's business
If a gentleman should choose
To wait upon a lady,
If a lady don’t refuse,
Or. to speak a little plainer,
That the meaning all may know,
is it anybody's business
If a lady lias a beau ?
] i it anybody’s business
When the gentleman does call
Or when he leaves the lady,
Or if i<e leaves at all,
Or is it necessary,
That (lie curtains should be drawn,
To save from further trouble
The outside lookers—ou ?
Ts it anybody’s business
Hut the lady’s, if her beau
Hides out with other ladies
And did not let her know.
Is it anybody’s business
Buttheg ntleman’s, if she
Should accept another escort,
Where he doesn’t chance to be?
The substance of eur query,
Simply stated, would be this,
Is it anybody's business
Wli-.t another’s business is?
If it is, or if it isn’t.
We would really like to knew.
Foa we’re certain, if it isn’t,
There are some who make it so.
If it is, we’ll join the rabble,
And act the noble part
Os the tattlers and detainers
Who throng the public mart;
But if not, we’ll act the teacher,
Until each meddler learns
It were better in the future
To mind hi own concerns.
THAT OLI), OLI) STORY.
BY EI.SIE EARNEST.
“ No. sir. L will not be a party to any
such outrage, for outrage 1 must con
sider it. What other name can be giv
en to such a transaction ? Here, I must
marry a certain young lady whom l
have never seen, or lose my inheritance.
I may not like her and she may not like
me. I ant suie I would not wed her to
save my lather’s estate, neither would I
b: willing to accept her, were she wil
ling to wed me for the sake or' that e -
“Give it to her, if she wishes it.—
Thank God I live in a free country,
where with youth, strength and intel
ligence I can make my own fortune.”
Edward E trie had been at a German
University for four years, since which
time he had been traveling for pleasure
as well as instruction. Medicine was his
chosen profession, and he gave his at- <
tention to it at all times. The summons
home to take charge of his father’s es
tate, had found him amid the wild, pic
turesque scenery of the Alps. Grief
for a lather dearly beloved left him no
desire to remain longer with his com
panions in travel, and he hastened home,*- 1
to find, upon reaching the eity near his
h me, that a will was made leaving him
the whole ot his father’s immense wealth
upon condition that he was to wed Al
ice Wolveroon, as a promise had been
made her father that they should be
united when she was t wenty o- a and he
was twenty gre. Her father had died
about the time Edward went to Europe,
and Mr. Earle had taken her to his
house and employed teachers so thatshe
might be with him all the time.
Mr. Earle had been a widower since
Edward's birth, with no female relative
to take the place of mother to the little
boy. A competent housekeeper super
intended his household affairs, and the
little Edward learned to love her dear
ly. When informed that his father had
taken the daughter of an old friend he
wa3 pleased at. the prospect of his fath
er’s loneliness being relieved by a sweet
little girl, for he had never known of
the contract between their parents, and
always thought of her as a child, who
would brighten his home when he res
turned. His mortification and grief
were great, upon reaching the office of
bis father’s executor, to find the true
state of affairi.
Mr. Wiseman tried to reconcile him
to the provisions of the will, by dwell
ing upon the beauty, grace and accom
plishments of the young lady until.fad
ing it availed nothing he said: “ Well,
is just as well so, I suppose, for tlfe
ywung lady has proven her aversion to
proposed union in terms as strong
and decided as you have done, and in
taking herself off to parts unknown.—
She had a little money iu the bank,
which she drew out as soon as told of
the will. She made her arrangements
as expeditiously and as quietly as possi
tie, and ten days ago left on the south
ern train. I tried to find where was
going to, but could get nothing out of
ber except that she “was going to work
f r her living. lam sorry for her.poor
child, for she loved your father dearly,
an <l was as attentive to him in his ill*
nc ss as his own child could have been.
* tried to dissuade him from making
park a will. He thought he was pro
viding a home for her. when he was re
% driving her from it.’'
Edward made inquiries, and tried ev
cry \ay he could to had Miss Wolver-
; OD > vitk the intention of giving her a
home, or the means to procure one else
where it she desired it, but could get
n o information concerning her.
dwo years passed away bringing no
Ranges to the household at Elmwood.
A - le war blast betweeo North and South
v >3 sounded, and Edward Earle enter
'd the Southern army as surgeon. He
Hollowed the fortunes of war until the
kittle of Oorinth, where he was badly
bounded while dressing a soldier’s
bounds on the battle field. He was
with many others, to Memphis,
R, ‘d placed in a hospital. When he
‘ -ached the hospital ha was delirious
- fever, superinduced by exposure to
® sun. and want of attention to his
For several days his life hung
by a slender thread, lie was a stran
ger, no one knowing his name.
When he returned to consciousness,
he found himself kindly cared for, and
tenderly nursed, by an angel, as he be
lieved. A lady of rare personal beauty
was sitting beside him with her soft,
dark eyes dimmed with tears. Her
wealth of rich auburn hair was carried
back from her fair brow and caught up
with a comb, a stray curl escaping from
one side.
He thought he must be dead and had
awakened in Heaven, until she saw him
looking at her with consciousness in his
eyes, when she leaned forward and said,
“You are better; thank God !”
“ Where am I?” he naked, and at
tempted to rise but he was too weak for
such and effort.
“ You are in Memphis, with friends.
You must not talk now. Some of the
wounded men said yon were their sur
geon. If you are a doctor, you know
you must keep very quiet, for you have
been very ill.”
He held out bis feeble hand to her,
and said, Don’t leave me, and I think
I can sleep."
She took his hand and said, as geatly
as a mother would speak to her Buffer
ing child, “ I will not leave you. Sleep
now, and you will be better wheu you
awake.”
He did sleep, as peacefully as a ebild,
and awoke refreshed and strengthened.
The days passed rapidly to our suffer
ing hero until he was strong enough to
sit up. His nurse found time to stop
beside his easy chair and speak a few
words of encouragement, as she flitted
about, waiting ou the sick and wound
ed.
He did not think in those days, he
knew that every place was dark without
the light ot her presence ; and he lived
only when he met those sympathetic
eyes, smiling upon him, or moist with
the dew of pity, wheu lie was suffer
ing-
As the weeks lengthened into months
and he knew that he muA leave Mem
phis, the thought of parting with his
nurse grew painful, and he knew that
he loved her. only as he love! the wo
man he would ask to be his wife.
At length he detained her as she pass
ed him ou one of her daily rounds, and
retaining the hand she had extended in
her “good morning,” said :
“ Miss Clark, do you know I am to
leave here to morrow ? I have stayed
here too long already. I have a com
fortable home, and good servants, who
would relieve the nurses here of my
care. I must go to-morrow.” *
“Must you go? I am so sorry ?” was
all she said, but her voice faltered, and
he saw a tear trembling on her long
lashes, ere she turned her head away to
conceal it.
He pressed her hand to his lips as he
spoke—
“ Miss Clark —Alice, Is that tear for
me ? O, Alice, sweet nurse, you can
not know how inexpressibly dear you
are to me. I never knew what love was
until I* met you. I know nothing of
you save that you are an angel, and I
want you to nurse me back to health
and happiness, as only a beloved wife
can nurse her husband. Will you leave
this place and go with me as my bride,
my own sweet Alice ?”
It was decided that he should re
main at the hotel a week, until she
could find someone to take her place in
the hospital, as nurse; then she would
wed him and go with him to his home
in Maryland.
She said, before leaving him, “ Dr.
Earley, I have something to tell you be
fore we go farther in our preparations.
My name is not Miis Clark —it is Alice
Mark Wolverton. I took my mother’s
maiden name, which is also my middle
name, for a reason which I think I
ought to tell you.”
She did not notice the quick start he
gave as she told him her name, nor did
she obssrve the peculiar twinkle of his
oyes, but proceeded to tell him all the
•lory of her life.
When abo left Elmwood she had gone
south, and found employment as govern
ess in a country family. Her home was
a pleasant oae, until the war broke out,
and her employers were not able to en
gage her for another term. She bad
O O #
tried to get another situation and failed.
She had gone to Memphis ar, 1 obtained
employment as assistant musio teacher
in a school, which place had kept until
the battle in which ha was wounded
Nurses were sorely needed, and she
had offered her services, little dreaming
she would meet her fate the very day of
outering the hospital.
He looked up and said, “Alice, did it
ever occur to you that my name was not
Earley ?”
u O, no, indeed it never did. Is not
that your name ?” she ashed, with Bur
prise.
He smiled, and held her close to him
as he said, “ You shall not escape me
now, much as I once wished it. Your
revelation of your name and history is
a surprise to me, but a pleasant one, sot
1 know, my darling, though you did not
tell me the name of your foster father,
I know it was Earle, and, don’t run
away, he was my natural father, and I
am Edward Earle—not Earley.
“ 1 know .t is ail right, Alice. We
were terribly rebolli us against our fate,
but love each other too dearly now to
find fault with Providence.’
A week later the household of'Elrn
wood were surpri ed to see their bes
loved Miss Alice really their rnistre 3
and a very happy one —as happy as her
lord.
Tuough be walked on crutches for a
long while, he never regretted bis hos
pital experience, and laughingly told
hi.; friends he was a married man be
cause he couldn’t help himself.
Lov-age is the r.>ofc of marriage.
CALHOUN, GA. ( WEDNESDAY, APRIL 22. 1874.
“ Doing* a Duel.
If a man sent me a challenge through
the mail I should carefully sc.nl it up
agaiu, write “ Removed” on the enve
lope, and send it back. This would
give him some time to ponder over the
matter. If he persisted, and it
back by a friend, I should say that I
wasn't the man—that it was my cousin
he wanted to see. This would give
him still further time to ponder, and
perhaps he’d get over his feeliag. But
if he sent it the third time I should ac
cept, and should go and state to his
friend how I had killed fourteen men in
Alabama, three in Texas five in Neva
da, and a dozen iu other States—each
one falling in a duel he had provoked.
If this did’nt put a stop to proceedings
I’d agree to go out and revolver the fel
low on any morning he might name.—
I wouldn’t go on the morning agreed,
preferring to give him a little longer
time to ponder; but if he pressed me
five or six times more, aad was deter
mined to fight, I’d go and fight him
I’d be on hand to the minute, aud as he
came upon the ground I would
ina k :
Mr. Jinx, I have incidentally learn
ed that yon are the sole, supporter of
au aged mother. I don’t care particu
larly about killing you, aud if you’ll
apologize I’ll call it all square.”
If he didn’t apologize, but insisted
that the duel should go on, I’d wait un
til the seconds had measured off the
ground, and then I’d give the rash
young man one more chance for his life.
I’d say :
“ Mr. Jinx, I understand that you
are the sole supporter of an aged fam
ily, and that you are engaged to be mar
ried. Under these circumstances, and
after much persuasion on the part of
your friends, I have concluded, in
case you will apologize, to let you off
this time.”
If he demanded that the revolvers
be loaded and the ground measured,
rashly rushing headlong toward his
death, I would make up my mind to
kill him aud be done with it. Then,
as the vision of his aged family rose
before my eyes, 1 would repent and
give him a last chance. I would say :
“ Mr. Jinx, you aro stauding upon
the brink of the grave, kou will mase
the fortieth man I have shot in affairi.
of this kind Owing to your extreme
youth, your rashness, and the pressing
demands of your friends, I have con
cluded to let you of) with an apology,
bat it must b<» &u ample one.”
If he refused to apologize I would
take my position, remove my boots, hut,
and coat, aud prepare to kill him at the
word I would at fir hi as if nothing
could remove me from my purpose, but
as I remembered his poor old mother,
and seemed to hear her wails of grief,
I would falter and break down, and of
fer him one more chance. If he re
fused to accept it, madly rushing to his
fate, I should go over to the farm house,
half a mile away, to see what time it
was, and probably allow the woman to
prevail upon me uot to go back and
shoot Jinx, but to give him a little time
to ponder, repent and aplogize.— M.
Quad, in Cheapo Fireside Friend.
Why Kemper Didn’t Insure.
A family named Kemper moved iut°
a house in our row last week, write
Max Adelr, and Benjamin P. Guun,
the life insurance agent, who lives in
the same row, was the first caller.—
He dropped in to see if he could not
take out a policy for Mr. Kemper.—
Mrs. Kemper came down to the parlor
to see him.
“ I suppose,” said Gunn, “ that Mr.
Kemper has no insurance on his life.”
“No.” said Mrs. Kemper.
“ Well, I’d like to get him to take
out a policy in our company. It’s the
safest in the world j the largest capi
tal, smallest rates, and biggest divi
dends.”
“ Mr. Kemper don’t take much in
terest in such things now,” said Mrs.
Kemper.
“ Well, madam, but he ought to, in
common justice to you. No man knows
when be Will die, and by paying a ri«
dieulously small sum now, Mr. Kemper
can leave his family in affluence. I’d
like to hand you, for him, a few pam
phlets containing statistics on the sub
ject. May 1?”
“ Os course, if you wish to.”
“ Don’t yon think he can be induced
to insure?” asked Gunn.
“ I hardly think »o,” replied Mrs.
Kemper.
“Heis in good health, I suppose ?
Has he complained lately of being
sick.”
“ Not lately.”
“ May I ask if he has any considera
ble wealth.”
“ Not a cent.”
u Then of course he must insure.—
No poor man can afford to neglect such
an opportunity. I suppose he tra vels
sotnevimes ; goes about in railroad cars
and other dangerous places ?”
“No he keeps very quiet.”
“ Man of steady habits I s’poss?
*• Very steady.”
“ lie is just tie very man I want,”
said Gunn ; “ I know i can sell him a
policy.”
“I don’t think you can.” replied Mrs.
Kcrnpei.
“ Why ? When will he be home?
I’ll call oo him. I don’t kno w any rea
son why I shouldn't insure him.”
“ I know,” replied Mrs Keeper.
“ Why ? ’
“He has been dead twenty seven
years!” said the widow. When Gann
left all of a sudden. He will not insure
any of the Kemperi.
Thkrk was a young wife at Chicago
Who io get a divorce did to law go,
And she smiled sweet as honey
As she »9ked for aiimony,
This handsome grass widow of Chicago.
A Startled Bridegroom.
Not many weeks ago a wealthy and
middle-aged bachelor of San Francisco
espoused one of the fairest daughters of
that city, and the wedding was celebra
ted in one of the most fashionable
churches, and in the presence of an as
sembly of the creme de la cr>mc of San
Francisco society. The Bridcgreoiu
was a Forty niner, and he had once been
anything but a sober and industrious
citizen. There had even been rumors
to the effect that when be made the
overland journey he left behind in “the
States” a wife and two children, and
these rumors were awkwardly revived
when his recent marriage waa fir«t an
nounced. But nothing came of the
gossip. The Forty-niner, was now un
deniably rich and respectable, and peo
ple were generally disposed to pass over
his antecedents without subjecting them
to a scrutiny that might prove disa
greeable. And so the wedding day ar«
rived.
When the Forty niner and his bride
turned from their places in front of the
altar, after the clcrgymai had pro
nounced them man and wife, the spec
tators were astWaisheJ to see a tall, dis
mal-looking, and sable habited mas
rise from a place in one of the front
pews, approach the bridegroom, and
gently tap him on the shoulder. The
effect of this proceeding on the Forty
niner was rather singular, for bis coun
tenance assumed a ghastly expression,
and he quickly resigned his newly-made
wife to her friends, and turned anxious
ly to tho stranger, who simply re
marked, “ I wish to talk with you a mo
ment privately, sir.” The Forty-niner
struggled hard to conceal his emotion,
:itid finally said : “ 1 assure you, sir,
that—that—what in thunder did you
come at such a time as this for ?” “ A
moment will suffice,” replied the funer
al Ipoking gentleman firmly : “ please
step into this pew.” The Forty-niner
did so, while the assembled company
bustled itself in winking and whisper
ing, aad looking alternately at the
fainting bride and the agonized brides
groom. “ When a man gets married,
sir.’ said the dismal gentleman, “ It is
necessary for him to look with prudence
upon the luture, and he cannot begin
too soon. Now, sir, a lot in the Oak*
dale Cemetery, which association I
repre— —.” The sentence was never
finished. There was a chorus of female
shrieks, and a general rush of gentle
men, as the Forty niner was suddenly
observed to seize his interviewer by the
collar ank kick him into the aisle. The
enterprising cemetery agent was quick
ly disposed of", the trembling bride re
gained her color aud composure, and
thereafter all weat merry as a marriage
bell.— Boston Courier.
Help Yourself.
Fight your own battles. Hoe your
own row. Ask no favors of any one,
and you will succeed five thousand times
better than he who is always beseeching
some one’s patronage. No one will help
you as you will help pourself, because
no one will be so heaitily interested in
your affairs. The first step will not be
such a long one, perhaps; but carving
your own way up the mountain, you
make each one lead to another, and
stand firm in that while you chop still
another cut. Men who have made for
tunes are not those who had $5,000
given them to start with, but started
fair with a well earned dollar or two.—
Men who have, by their exertions, ac
quired fame, have not been thrust into
popularity by puffs, begged or paid for,
or given in a friendly spirit.
They have outstretched their bands
and touched the public heart. Men
who win love do their own wooing, and
I never knew a man to fail so sigoally
as one who had induced his affectionate
grandmother to speak a good word for
him. Whether you work for fame, for
love, for money, or for anything clue,
work w’lh your hands and brain. Fay
“ I will !” and some day you will con
quer. Never let any have it to say, “I
have drugged you up.” Too ui3ny
friends hurt a man more than none at
all. — Grace Greenwood.
Aii Old Jok« in a New Dress.
Au old lawyer of the city of New
York tells a good joke about one of his
clients: “ A fellow had been arraigned
before the police court for stealing a set
of silver spoons. The stolen articles
were found upon the culprit, and there
was no use in attempting to deny the
charge. Lawyer G- -was applied
to by the prisoner as counsel, and see
ing no escape for his client, except on
the plea of insanity or idiocy, he in
structed the fellow to put on a3 silly a
look as possible, and, when any ques
tion was put to him, to u.ter in a drawl
ing manner, with idiotic expression, the
word “Spoons.” If successful, the fee
wa» to be twenty dollars. The court
proceeded to business; the charge was
read, and the question was put to the
prisoner :
“Guilty, or not guilty ?”
“Spoons!” ejaculated the culprit.
The court put several questions to
him. but “ spoons, spoons 1” was ail the
answer it cou’d elicit.
“ The fellow’s a fool,” said the Judge,
“ let him go about his busiues3.”
The prisoner left the room and the
lawyer followed close in his wake, and
when they got into the hall the lawyer
tapped his Client on the shoulder, say
ing :
“ Now. my good fellow, that twenty
dollars.”
The rough, looking the lawyer full
in the face, end, putting on a grotesque
and silly expression, and winking with
one eye, exclaimed “ Spoons!” and
then made tracks
It is a sure sign of an early spring to
see a cat intently watching a small hole
in the wall.
Another Boy that Had a Hatchet.
A little boy ha via* heard a beauti
ful story about a little boy aad a hatch
et. and how, bccauae the little boy
wouldn’t tell a lie, he, in time, got to
be President of the United States, was
very much impressed by it. Now, it ao
happened thaton the last day of March,
he was just ten year* old, aad his fath
er asked him what he would like to
have for a birth day present. Very nat
urally the boy’s answer was, “ A little
hatchet, if yon please, papa.”
The father bought him a little hatch*
et that very day, and the boy waa so
delighted “that he actually took it to
bed with him.
Early the next morning he got up,
dressed himself, took his little hatchet,
and went out into the garden. There,
as luck have it, the first thing
that caught bis eye was his father’s fa
vorite cherry tree. “My eyes !” ex
claimed the little boy to himself, “what
a time my father would make if a fel
low were to out that tree I” It was a
wicked thought, for it led him into
temptation There w&s the tree—tall,
straight, and fair—standing invitingly
before him—just the thing for a sharp
little hatchet. Aad there waa Ike
hatchet—strong, sharp, and shining—
just the thing for a fbvorite cherry Croc.
In another inetant the swift strokes of
the axe were heard in the still morning
air, and, before long, a small boy was
seen running toward the house. His
father met him at the door.
“My boy, what noise was that I
heard just now? Surely you have
not been at my favorite cherry tree!”
The boy stood proudly before him,
but with downcast eyes and flushing
checks.
*• Father,” he said, “ I can not tell a
lie. That cherry tree is .”
“ Fay no more,” said the father, ex
tending his arms. “ You have done
wrong, my son ; and that was my fa
vorite tree ; but you have spoken the
truth. I forgive you. Better to .”
This was too much. The boy rushed
into his father’s arms.
“ Father !” he whispered, “ April
fool ! I haven’t touched the cherry
tree; but I most chopped the old apple
stump to pieces.”
“ You young rascal you !” cried the
father, “ do you mean to say you have
not chopped my cherry tree ? April
fool your old father, will you? Take off
your coat, sir !”
With a suppressed sob, the little boy
obeyed. Then, shutting his eyes, he
felt his father’s hand descend upon his
shrinking form.
“ My son,” said the father, solemnly,
as he stroked the little shoulder, “ it is
the first of April. Go thy way/’— St.
Nicholas-
A French nobleman, observing his
tenant about to destroy a fine thrifty
pear tree, inquired the cause, and waa
told that it was a choice seedling, and
had borne no fruit in twenty-five years.
He had already commenced cutting
its roots preparatory to the first
stroke, but was ordered to let it remain.
He did so, and in the following year it
was loaded with superb fruit of an ea
tirely variety, which at once became
celebrated. The root pruning the gar*
dencr had given it worked like a charm.
Not mauy years afterward the Duchess
d’ Angouleme was paasiag through the
city of Lyons, and its inhabitants sent
to her their hospitalities. Nine fair
maidens presented the Duchess with
golden salvar3, on which *ay heaped
this precious fruit, and begged her to
bestow on it her name; and the pear
now recognized as the crowning glory
of all fruits was thenceforward known
as the Duchess d'Aogoulenje,
■« »>—
Things I Have Noticed. —l have
noticed that in society a woman’s soul
weighs just the amount that her clothe*
cost.
I have noticed that most busiaess
people are much more polite when
you call to pay than when you call to
collect.
I have noticed that Datura gener*
ally repeats itself. Wheu I see u verj
bad child lam pretty sure that the
narents have not always been blame
less.
I have noticed that when there ii on
ly one daughter »n a family, and her
parents are very anxious to keep her
home as long as possible, some chap
coaxes her off before she is seventeen.
I have also noticed that where there is
a house full of girls, aad the parents
are praying daily for husbands for the
same, the whole lot are apt to live and
die old maids.
The intensest study invigorates the
body as wail as the mind, strengthens
both the nervous and muscular system
makes the blood course in stronger
breath-giving currents through the
system, enlarges the brain, erects the
forms, softens the features, brightens
the eye. animates the countenance, dig
nifies the whole person, and in every
way conduces to health,provided only
that it is pursued in accordance with
the laws of hygiene as to diet, exercise,
rest, sleep and ventilation. — Northrcjp.
The great curse that hangs over ev
ery small community is scandal, and a
disposition among some few to pick up
merest trifles of gossip, and magnify
them into hideous deformities. Some
people have the peculiar faculty of Bitk
in" themselves intolerable by excessive
in diligence in this business, and some
times so well succeed in injuring the
reputation of others, that even they
themselves must recoil with horror at
the rejection. Be sure that you are
not one of them.
The patent office has just reported
favorably on three new kinds of cork
screws.
FUN ITEMS.
Laay husbands are known out Weat
as “stove watcher*.”
Kentucky has a paper “ devoted to
the interests of its proprietor.”
When a lady faint? what figure does
she need f Jou must bring her 2.
Aa exchange says that oeef was nev
er ao high as when, according to moth
er goose, “ the cow jumped over the
moon.”
A Mississippi negro worked on shares
but got “noffin ”**be*au«e l ” said he, “1
worked for de seventh,and we only made
<fe Silk ; crop short.”
u Among all mv boys,” said an old
man, “I never had but one who took af
ter me, and that was my so?» Aaron,who
took after me with a club.”
A St. Paul locomotive threw a man
one hundred and eighty feet through a
tresele-work bridge and didn’t hurt him.
which is another recommendation for
Western climate.
They were going to put a mas out of
, a San Franetsco theatre for creating a
disturbance* when a voice cried, “ He’s
all right, he’s killed * Chinaman !” aud
they let him alone*
A little girl was uot at all grateful
for a pair of boots to which she took a
great dislike. After enumerating their
many faults, she added, “And they
don’t even squ *ak.”
An exchange sayß that a Michigan
man dreamed recently that his aunt was
dead. The dreatn proved true. He
tried the same dream on his mother, in
law, but it didn’t work.
A California paper says of Gov. Saf
ford, of Arizona, that he “ can go as
long without a plug hat or a biled shirt
as any man who ever looked a griizlv
square in the face.”
A Dover woman subsisting on public
charity took half a sovereign collected
for her and purchased anew bonnet,
that she might look respectable when
going around begging.
A wag who thought to have a joke at
the expense of an Irish provision deal
er, said : “ Can you supply me with a
yard of pork ?” “ Pat, give this gen
tleman three pig’s feet,” was the ready
answer.
“ You are from the country, ard you
not, sir ? ’ asked a city clerk of a Qua*
ker who had just arrived. “Yes.”—
“Well, here is an essay on the rearing
of calves.” “ That,” said Aminadab.
as he turned, “ thee had best present
to thy mother ”
A Utica boy, who attempted to ampu
tate a cat’s tail found that the absence
of the old woman who owns the cat is
necessary to* perfect successfully such
an operation. His faoe looks as though
Buffalo Bill had settled an old grudge
against him.
A Pennsylvania clergyman has made
a hit by introducing “personals” in his
prayers, for instance: “Lord have rner
•y on John' Shanahan, who keeps a sa
loon near the old red bridge. Either
lay him on a bed of sickness or have
him removed from this town.”
An Irishman’s idea of finances is
happily illustrated by the following an
ecdote: “If I put my money in the
savings bank, when caa I get it out
again f” asked Pat. “Och !” said Mike,
“ and if you put it in to-day, you can
draw it to-morrow by giving sixty days’
notice.”
A poor family in Denison, Ohio, con
sisting of a husband, a wife and seven
children, were on the point of starva
tion. Somebody raised SIOO for them,
and what did the wife do with it ? She
bought a silk dress for S7O, and began
to take music lessons.
When an enthusiastc editor describes
a bride as bon ay, and envicus composi
tor seta her up as “ bony,” aa waa done
the other day in Jacksonville, hope lor
a season bids the world farewell, free
dom shriek* •• the compositor fell at his
form, brained by the brother of the
blooming bride.
A country postmaster, in making a
requisition on the department at Wash
ington for three thousand postal cards,
apologizes for the unusually large num
ber ordered by saying : “You may think
that this amount of postal cards that 1
send for is great (oar office being small)
but I will explain it to you We want
them to advertise for a man who was
our town treasurer and absconded ”
Here is a bit of conversation lately
overheard in a street in Providence be
tween a youag lady and geutleman :
‘ Charley, did you ever hear it said that
if a person found a four leaved clover
and put it in their shoe, the lady or gen
tleman the person walked with would
be their husband or wife V’ “ No—
never heard of it before." u Well, I
found one and put it in my this
morning, and yon are the first one I
have walked with. I wonder if it is
trne V
Eight years ago, a young man eame
to this city from the wilds of Massa
chusetts, without a cent in his pocket or
a friend in the woild. By good luck
he managed to obtain a situation in a
dry goods stcre at five dollars a week.
From this humble position he deter
mine Ito rise, and rise he did. It was
a hard struggle, but the young man
persevered. He worked faithfully, was
fortunate enough to mak the acquain
tance of many illustrious men, drank
nothing but fifteen-cent whisky, wore
standing collars and an eye glass, and
to day is the happy recipient of a aote
from his washerwoman, in which th.:
expresses a burning desire to “ rite a
lump on him bigger pop pp apple dan p
le«,”
VOLUME IV.—NO. 38.
HOUSEHOLD HINTS.
Muffin Recipe— Two eggs, one
quart of dour, a pint of sweet milk,
, two f UDC 'ft of butter, a gill of yeast, a
! teaspoouful of salt.
Black \V asii.—tine quart lime wa
ter i one drachm calomel To be used
lor foul and indolent ulcers; excel
lent to wash saddle sores os horses’
backs.
Poverty Cake.— Two cups of thin
cream, two cups if stoned and ehopped
raisins, two cups of sugar, four cups of
flour, one teaspoouful of soda, salt and
spice.
To ha?e corned beef juicy, after it is
cold, and not as dry as a chip, put it
into boiling wa f er whan it is put on to
r ook, and do not take it out of the pot,
when done, uutil cold.
Nice Dish for the Sick — To one
teacup of cream take lour rolled or pra
ted crackers, one teaspoonful of white
sugar, the white of one egg beat to a
froth, with a teaspoonful of jelly of any
kiud.
Pudding Sauce. —One laalf teacup
of butt«r, on«* and a half teacup us su
gar, and one pint of strawberries mash
ed till juicy. (Canned berries may bt
substituted for fresh ones.) Beat the
b itter and tugar to a cream, then stir
in the berries
Snow Pudding. —Dissove one'half
a box of ge'sntine in one pint of cold
water. After it is thoroughly dissolve
ed add one piut of warm water, two
cups of sugar, juice of two lemons.—
Let it cool, then put in the whites of
three eggs well ketteu. Serve cold
with sugar and cream.
Potato Soup.—Take six potatoes,
medium site, and one onion ; pare and
put iuts one quart of water ; boil one
hour and then strain throsgh a coland
er, filling up if the water has boiled
away; add a piece of buttWr as large
as an egg ; pepper and salt to taste, and,
last, • quart of sweet cream ; as soon as
hot, serve with crackers aud bread.
Hop Yeast. — ls pouuds of grated
raw potato, one quart of boilijig water,
in which a h-iudlul of hops have been
boiled, one teacup of white sugar (coffee
sugar), one half teacup of salt; when
almost cold put a little good yeast in to
start it, say about half a piut. One
pint of this yea-1 makes four good
loaves of the most delightful bread you
ever ate.
A Good Table Sauce —Take one
gallon of tomatoes, wash and simmer in
three quarts of water until nearly done.
Add two tablespoonfuls of each of these
spices, ginger, mace, black pepper, all
spice and salt, and one of cayenne pep
per. Boil down to one quart. Pour in
one half pint best vinegar, and then
pass through a hair seive Bottle iu
half-pint bottles ; cork and seal secure
ly, and keep in a cool place.
Graham Bread.—l have seen sev
eral inquires for a receipt to make gra
ham bread. I will give mine as we like
it better than made with soda. Two
quarts of graham flour, a small teacup
fnl of yeast, and a little salt, then stir
to a stiff batter with warm water ; lot
it raise over night, or until light aud
spongy, then mould into loates with as
little flour as possible j as soon ai it be
gins to raise in the pan, put into the ov
en. It is nice to make into biscuit for
breakfast.
Bug Poison. — A stroug alum water
is a sure death to hugs of any descrip
tion. Take two pounds of alum and
dissolve in three quarts of boiling wa
ter, allowing it to remain over the fire
until thoroughly dissolved. Apply
while hot with a brush, or what is bet
ter, use syringe to force the liquid in
the cracks of the walls and bedsteads.
Scatter, also, the powdered alum freely
iu al! these placev, and you will soon be
rid of these insect nuisances which fill
one with disgust.
How to Boil Eggs.—tfwt the r*>
quired number es eggs into a saucepan,
containing boiling water sufficient to
cover them, and put it in a place on tho
range where it will keep boiling hot,
hut not boil. IjCL them stand seven
minutes. When taken up they wi!! be
found thickly and deliciously jellied
throughout, and perfectly digestible.—
It is a much better and more certain
way thau boiling them. Another meth
od is, to let them boil gently for thirty
minutes. This is an excellent p'an for
persons who like hard boiled eggs, or
for invalid*, as eggs cco'-ed for this
length of time can be easily digested
by th i most delicate stomachs.
Foul Air it the Sick Chamber.
There is nothing more conducive to
the recovery of the sick, than the
pure air of heaven, if it can so be man
aged. to admit into the chamber of the
patient, a due portion of that vital ele
ment. Many persons die from no oth
er cause than being obliged to breath
their lives away in a »o.itaininated at*
mosphere. But in winter it is much
easier to regu at* the temperature of
the atmosphere, than in the summer,
because, by mean? of a stove the heat
can be regulated by toe admission
through tho door or windows of pure
vitalizing air. which in all times and in
all cases will act as a t<uc on the de
bilitated system. The air in a room
can be rarifbd and made purer by
swinging the to and fro a half doz
en times or more and it c:n be let in
the room at the windows, but in case
of so doing, the patient should bo well
covered during the process of ventila
tion. By using extreme caution to pro
t ct the sick from too sudden a change
pu:e air will act on the debilitated sys*
em like a tonic ai.J the patient will
oris bly feel a change foi the better.