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WINNSBORO, S. C., WEDNESDAY, kWrVST 13, 1884. ' m 1 A Sea Song. Hurrah for the ses, where the chowders be, | And the 6culpin grinds his horn! Where the star-flsh shine through the spumy brine, And the mammoth oysters yawnt For the barnicie blows and the conger crows As we chase the prickled prawn. Then roll out of tfie.Captain's gig, my lads, i Let th? bobstay harness be! With tfie breeze abaft, and fore, and aft We'll drive o'er the wind-whipped sea. , Hearthe boVn shout: "Let the port iatch rout I Haul tne affidavits taut! Like snowy crowds spread the white, white shrouds _ _ I Where the dead night's gleam is caughtr Belay the keel till the compass heel j And the water-line runsshortf" / The main sheet fills with the mad monsoon, We have farled the fore-crosstree. And BOtijrhtJy laced the vessel's waist; As'we skim o'er the creamy sea. The sea-gulls shriek from the for'ard peak. As the shrimps go prancing by, I And the mermaids kiss the whistling buoy, Wfciie&ih?i?rehin pipes his?ye: ? Ibedoc-Ss,h bark at the tipsy shark, . And HJAcagibct join tip cry, Then cheer, mates, cheer, as the good ship speeds, . ^ * __Till we make the hawser gee? for tQO Tins Jn me saie oiows a And we plow tii,e furrowed sea. > . Ho, binnacle, fly from the capstain hig-h! Make the niizzen scupper fast! By the lanyard's Jiglit through the nasty nlghtf r - ^ We will scud before the mast; J - ; r For the breeze is a-lee and the rover is free. And a schooner of beer has passed. Hurra for the ship! Hurra for the crew! Merry, merry boys are we? And our course is pressed for the glowing west As we rise on the yeasty sea. HATTIE*S HATRED. "I never look ridiculous," cried Mattie ^all, "but some one appears to whpml'ip particularly anxious to look my best" There I was?sleeves rolled up to my elbows, hair in -anything but j graceful disorder, washing the parlor i ,J windows, and sinking as loudly as my lungs would admit, when who should i walk in, 'sans ceremonie,' but Frank Wright I haven't seen him in four years, not since I was 14, and he was just disagreeable enough to compliment me on my improved looks, glance maliciously at my rumpled locks and wet gown, while 1 stood looking just about as large as your little finger. Don't I hate him?" "Undoubtedly you do," I replied, leisurely taking off my gloves. "Mr. at our ijease a short time a^>??eaneationed b^agliei,e."f ? "Mejftiofcejjf being here!"- Hattie re-' oeate? . "Did he give : you a graphic^ "I have no idea of mmistenng to your vanity, my dear," I replied; "but I really regret that you are ashamed of VoTrinn, Vuion enmrisfid in useful em f UAIiMg WVM ployment. Why/1 fancied you rather proud of jour housekeeping qualities." "Housekeeping "qualities^ indeed!" exclaimed Hattie in a vexed tone. ^ "A good housekeeper never neglects her own person." "But, Hattie," I urged, "one cannot expect to find one's friends en grande toilette while engaged in washing windows." ' v. "But my nair was in such shameful gjfc; ' tiisorder. < * ^rr' "You are looking your very best now, .'T*- Hattie," I remarked, "whatever your forenoon appearance may have been." * -Oh, yes!' she replied "As Uncle John says?after the horse was stolen ? - "? * ? * in ' i iocsea xae Darn: "Well," said I, "play me something by way of forgetting your unfortunate 1 rencontre." Hattie played exquisitively. She was just dashing off one of my favorites when Frank Wright came in. Hat* tie nodded, and demanded petulantly whether he was as charmed with her playing as he had been with her sing"More so," Mr. Wright had the candor to reply. "Ah! then I' dare say you do- not r consider me the sweetest singer in the world?" she,questioned. Mr. Wrisht was positive, on reflec Con. that he had listened to as good | vocal efforts as he .had heard that morning. After lingering as long as propriety .jfould admit of, Frank withI drew. * '* I "What a conceited puppy!" Hattie exclaimed as soon as he had gone. "How nngenerons you are," said I; "you know you are thinking now, away down in your heart, how much tact and cleverness he displayod in warding off the shafts of your ridicule without turning the points against ? Y~> ?? i ? 1? Ktt yourseu. jdcsiues, uc wuaiucicu uy wiser heads than ours a young lawyer of great promise. 1 heard father say yesterday that he never listened to a more able and touching appeal, than f his plea in the Austin and Wilkin's suit; and he gained the cause, too. So the widow and orphans are not shelterless!" **Xhat was nothing," Hattie maintained. "If he had been employed on the other side it would have been the same thing." "But he refused a retaining fee on rthe other side, and volunteered his ser- j vices to the poor widow." Bnt Hattie would not believe it. i Frank, had been so unfortunate as to surprise-her in questionable dishabille, , and she could not forgive. "She "ver "did like him when she was a little girl," she said. He was infinitely more disagreeable now." "Then why were you so particularly > anxious to appear your best before him?" f <4Oh! he mentioned me in his letters to Ellen, and Ellen had writen back all sorts of nonsense about what she called my beauty. Do you think I wished to be canvassed by a pair of malicious eyes, and read in. their ill-concealed expression: This is not quite the tg Hattie that 1 expected to see?' Not! L" ' } {i\ : . t:? ?a I W -iilUO yiwocu* rj ouul . Hattie Hall were friends. jfc Frank's equanimity was never dis* RkA turbed by Hattie's pretty sparring; intSBfljSMp deed, be seemed rather to enjoy it This only incensed her the more. "It [ was," she said, "as if she were not / worth minding." w "Hattie," said L as she sauntered L into my sitting-room one day, with her j apron full of flowers, and her hat swinging by one ribbon over her shoul- j n der, "Frank Wright must be contem- j niafa'nor matrimony. Husband says the I rnevr nouse in progress at the other end of the street is his. I wonder who the rbride-eleefc can "be? Clara Perkins, do you suppose?" *'I am sure I do not know,"she re- : plied. "Of one. thing I am positive,; however; I shall not envy . his wife neither her hew house nor her hus- i I* band. You know that I can't l?ear L< Frank Wright" I had been telegraphing ever since i I she commenced, but she either could not or would not understand my signs, ? nor did she manifest any embarrassment when on turning around she saw _ the object of her spleen standing in the open, door, a yery perceptible smile C . rwwSSSLfLL. ' v. wreathing-his features. "You nave learned nothing new, I presume, Mr. Wright," she said. "But i there is a certain adage about eavesdroppers that f would recommend to your leisure. Besides when you enter a room Where people arc talking about what you ought not to hear, please cough, clear your throat, or give other indications of your august presence." And she saucily tossed her head." i "Mtr Spar Mi<?s Hall." said Frank. advancing toward her, "I shall certainly strive to profit by your counsel; neither shall I regret having heard vour expressed dislike of myself, since t trust it may teach me how I may render myself less repulsire, to you. For, believe me," he added, intones intended for her ear only, "I cannot tell you how much I regret this singular abhorrence you have ever manifested. Can you not point out some method by which I may yet hope to stand better in your regard?" I did not hear the reply as I was stnxnnoned; to the kitchen' at that moment But I have just foundations for believing that she did point out a way by which herlesteem might be won; for not long ago I saw her and Frank standing close proximity, while a venerable looking man propounded certain momentous questions which Frank answered frankly and distinctly, and Hattie's replies, though low, were quite satisfactory. The Mule and the Bull. I rode once with some cattlerbuyers through the stock ranges of Nevada. My pony?it was called Bob?drifted into Nevada Utah, and was known as a buffalo hunter. Bob was as mean looking as a sheared sheep, and as bullet-headed as a political opponent. .However,. Bob and I got along very I well the ff est day ".of our acquaintance; I got along, in fact, about fifty Nevada [miles, which lhave carefully estimated I to be equal to sirty-five Christian ' miles. The next day Bob was tired, or cross, or bored. He regarded the , cTftstAQ of siKTe-brush disdainfullv. while I threaded my whip upon him, and'luuched off the sage-brush while I wore out my spurs on his shaggy sides. Theu I led him a few miles, and he regarded me in big-eyed meditation. When I remounted, which I did only when my shoes were worn out, Bob aprjared so broken up that I felt sorry, determined to go no further that day than the ranch-house we were ap " feoadking^for I di^-;no!r?want Bob's life charged lo my cruelty. n; Just before redctbod the house : a herd of cattle i^achifcL us. A blgbuU, the biggest and wildest j remember ever.-to selected -Bobjand mo for a target Considering Bob's condition, I was about to dismount, and take my chances afoot, when Bob started. I believe he thought he was entered for the Derby. Youjaever saw suoli a rate of speed attained by such a remarkable gait. Bob would alternately roll himself up in a ball, and stretoh out to three times his normal length; his head would get out of sight into his shoulders, and then ^ot out of sight in the distance. Suddenly Bob stopped? very suddenly?so suddenly that it un- j seated my dignity and- pose. Looking about I discovered the cause to be that the bull had stopped. Just as suddenly the bull began charging the other way, and Bob?that fool a Bob? be^an charging after the oull. If the bull had been a peck of oats Bob could not have displayed moro earnestness in thft chose. . * Between my anxiety lest Bob should catch the bull, and not knowing what to do with it* and mj uncertainty as to my seal, I was verry unhappy. Bob, howeverer, appeared to be having a real good time. The chase was kept up for miles, and Until the bull suddenly stopped short and swung his big horned head around at Bob and me as we came along. Both dodged beautifully, and then the bull chased us awhile. That thing was kept up for hours. If the bull wouldn't chase us Bob would chase th6 ball; it was all the same to him?just as much fun for one as another. I reckon we chased each other?Bob and the bull and I? about fifty miles, when we happened upon a little oasis and Bob and the bull began browsing the unexpected grass together in the most friendly manner. I excused myself and walked back to the ranch.?San Francisno CalL ' Taking Care of Dresses. There is an old proverb which says a lady is always known by her boots and gloves. Quite as crucial a test is the faculty of taking good care of her costnmes, and one that" quite as distinctly marks the well hred lady. Any one can buy an elegant wardrobe if she have money enough, but to take the requisite care to keep it fresh and dainty requires something more than a check book. Of keeping nice dresses, a lady writes: "Each dress should have '*" +s\ t-Drtn if*, frnm iW) U?U *V JkiW VI W1 WV uvvAW VMa chaffing or fading. Take fine, firm cotton cloth, something over a yard wide, cut it into squares, then hem and wash the squares. They should be fine, take no room, and wei^h little; firm, to keep away from dust;hemmed, that you may keep the same side next the silk, and washed, to do away with the bleaching chemicals, which are liable to change the color of the silkFold the bottom of the train back and forth, in about eighteen oj twenty inch folds so as to fit the box you have for it. The bottom being all together, you -J~ -* *- ? A* +ATW_ will cover it wim ? &uia.u. wuw wi ^ ?el to keep the dusty train from rubbing against the cleaner parts of the robe; roil the whole dresS loosely to the size and shape of the box it is to go in, lay it upon a white cloth and fold the corners of the same over the top of- the package and place in the box. Now loosen the-roli and adjust it to its space so as to favor any delicate or easily crushed portion of the dress?as Medici collars, flower garniture, embroidery, eta?relieving crowded places, and distributing the thick to the thin spots. When you come to use the robe shake it out and you will find it in good condition. The fold of dress or shawl will often work up between the trays of boxes and by motion of cars, wagons, etc.*, get chafed into holes. To avoid tins, pin the cloth over so it cannot ]ut over the box. To pack laces, fold them in blue tissue paper or soft linen, because white tissue paper contains bleaching acid and discolors and decays the ribbons or lace. The same is true of white shoes and gloves, and especially of silver ornaments. The latter, though, worn every evening, keep their punty and brilliancy for months if kept closely in bluo tissue paper. Shoes and slippers should never be: folded together without a cloth or pa-! per between them, as the sole of one j soils the upper of the other. Put one' in cloth, turn it over and then add tne other. A Zulu belle is Hke the proverbial prophet?she has not much on 'er in aej'jp^racountiy. Story By a Forty-Xincr. ; "I tell you what, sir"?it was an old forty-niner who spoke, as he sat with ! his feet on the top of the hotel stove? J "there ain't no life on Goti's earth as ; comes up to minin'; leastwise no life : that I've struck, and I've tried a good i many things, too. A man don't make ; money at it, not one in 500; rather they get plenty, but they gamble it away in i camps as* fast as they get it, so't when . r? tmnrMriftforoc] rmt. tllPTA "nrnhflWv ? O ??- J ain't three men outside the bunko men ! and saloon-keepers as have got a dollar ! in their pockets. "But it's the fascination of it Lor' J man, when you've struck it pretty 1 rich and can see yer gold right in front j of you; when you're piling it up every i half hour o' the day, with a nugget now j and again as big as a bullet to cheer 1 you, and then when the evenin' comes | and you count it up and find a hun! dred odd dollars just picked out o' the | earth that day?well, there ain't noth! in' like it Then when you don't strike {it rich you always think you're goin' to next day, and it's just as exciting j hearin' other men teli in the eveniir ; what they pulled out as it is countin' ; over your own. Why, I've been three | and four months at a time without making a dollar and without a cent in my pocket; but, Geewhittaker! the excitement of it don't give a gaan twice to think how hard up lie is. "But there are times when a man don't know how to kick himself hard enough; you bet he don't It was down on the Stanislaus once, I was monkeying round witii a para?j-<ong Gus we culled him?an' I picked up a clod to throw at him, just a lump of earth that was lyin' handy. Well, it just went to one side o' Long Gus, and he sorter reached out his hand to catch it, an' it all broke in pieces leavin' some in his . hand. I expected hls'd throw it back at me; but he didn't. He just tossed it over in his hand careless like, and then said we'd had enough foolin'. So we walked on again. Next mornin' Gus didn't say a word to me, but he just went off with his outfit to the place where I'd thrown that clod at j him. an' took $250 out the first day. An' I don't know how many thousands he took out before he'd done with that claim. As the clod broke in his hand it laid bare a small nugget, maybe as larcre as a nea?he showed it to me afterward?an' he said it startled him so he very nigh called out an' gave hisself away, as nobody supposed tnere; | was any gold left just there. It was: all thought to be worked out, but the darned fools had <*one right by the richest part of it. I wish he had called out, I know, but you bet X never felt more like kicking myself into the river'n I did then. Why, if I'd only turned the cussed thing over, or broken it in two?it was a sight too large to throw at once, as I thought when I threw it, but ! "But thero was another time when I felt like hurting myself, too?hurting myscif right bad?and so did all the j other boys, I can tell you. Thgre were [ some two hundred of us in it, sir. An' we were all fools. It was one Fourth of July, down to Moseiumne, an' we wanted to do su'thin' to celebrate, an' we were-pretty badly' fixed for what to do. Well, after ratio-' round a bit we settled on an old tree?one o' these sugar pines. The gold, ye know, nsed to lie all along the bottom of the gulches?or so we used to think?and nobody ever thought of going up the hillside to look for it, but just kep' on working along the gulches. An this sugar pine was" some three hundred feet up the hillside, right away from where the gold was. It was a fine tree, as straight as whisky for 100 feet or more without a bough or a leaf on it, and then the boughs began all of a sudden. It stood out there all by itself like, an' wc settled we'd blow it up. So we gets a twenty-five pound keg o' blastin' powder and hauled it up the I hill, an' set to work to dig a hole under the tree. We got as far under as we! 1 J t il.. 4.1 ] COUJ.LL iOI" tliU auu cucu Obun bu the keg away, an1 just heaved rocks and earth oato it and beat it down hard. Then we lit the fuse and< scrambled away as fast as.we could. Well, you just believe it we scattered those rocks'some. Gee! but we had to look out for our heads, and the earth went all around the pisce. But it didn't blow the old tree up; not worth a cent It just stood there as if nothing had happened, 'cept that the trunk was split open some twenty feet or so. However, we all cheered and hollered, an' felt we'd done suthin' to celebrate, and then we went back and 'rahed j around the camp. 'That, as I've said, was on the 4th of July. Along to the end of September, it might be, it rained?rained quite a sight that year. too. "Well, after it'd been rainin'a bit'a man called Harris?Jim Harris, as good for nothin' a chap as you ever see, who couldn't work or do" anythin', an' had never washed out a dolhir honestly in his life?chanced to come over lhat hill on his way to camp, au passed right by this 'ere pine a*s we tried to blow, up. None of us had never been up to the durned tree again, but s'elp me Johnny Rogers! if thai rain hadn't gone an' washed all the earth as the powder'd kicked up, an' this fellar Harris just picked up $60 as he stood there! That provorl one of the richest leads'in the whole -Mokelumne, an1 here had we been washing away in rrnl^fipc nn' savin' there warn't no t) ? ?J? ? gold up- the hillside. Warn't there! This feller Harris got rich. out o' that, 'cos he never spent no money like the rest of us; an' was about the only man as did get rich, I guess. I didn't, I know. Bui I tell you there wasn't one of us 200 a3 wouldn't have taken it kindly if some one 'ad kicked him well when we first heard o' what we'd done."?N. T. Tribune. ^ I Farm notes: Rest and freedom from annoyance are essential to animals that nrA Hp in or fattaned for market. Far mers should never allude to family cares while feeding tho pigs. Nice fresh eggs, to be offered in next Winter's market, ought to be iimed now. The word "fresh" written in lead pencil on the shell will readily distinguish them from the previous season's. A bookkeeper says that, by feeding nitrogenous food, the queen can be induced i to lay at any time. If there is any kind j of food that will induce quiescence in j the business members of the hive, we j shall be glad to publish it. A gentleman visited the house o' Eenry Ward Beecher and was surprised at the smell of tobacco smoke in tb<library. Turning to Mr.' Beecher h< csked him if he smoked. The replv was: "No, but my sons do. I canno: "rirofrtn A 'I ,uu iu u.v*rii tucsc auiiiu yltcs. J ] once tried to, I believe." "Oh, yes/ j said one of his sons; "the only thrash- j ing he ever gave was for smoking ? cigar. But when the War broke out and j I went to the front the first present 11 received from homo was a bos of cigars j sent to mc by my father." The Society Novel. j During the last few years the line, ' ' "A new society novel, by ."coupled 1 j with eulogistic adjectives of various : degrees of intensity, has appeared with j ' remarkable frequency in the advertise- | ments of book publishers, until, at last, j | the conclusion is forced upon one that ! i this style of fiction almost monopolizes j the talents of our story-writers. Per- | haps, however, "story-'frriters" does : not accurately describe those who load ; the shelves of circulating libraries with I this sort of reading matter. For, as a ! general rule, the books which the American school of novelists produces ?onnrtt Ko olacaeri fts fftrvrif>S. TheV ' are rather photographs of different i j phases of social life. Of plot there is j little or none. The writer does not j exert himself in JieiQ3St:jD' create an i element of;snspense as to? the.- probable fate of hisj&gro or Jjgroiuft. He'ignores incidentsi'as^firt&hch^CKteters.^seldoinrSp -anything that has-'any bearing.on Redevelopment of : the sfeetcfc The^ cirtastr^he, such as it is, excites orrly-fSS^Qid interest, ! unless fhe.raRffibr, impelled; 'by a ! ; desire to, appear" "original,%>.discards ; the "good old^metHod Ringing his; : young ig,en and"jnaSdeas. safely., out of j their troubles, and, .instead; gives ns a conclusionthat;.^P^^.^^ppolfttjng, j iratatEftT" f-f : -*t,ie ,? - :.| The p^ea that.is urged ra defense of i the ^cioty'npydljaiiff"iitody I is that tbe age is one cf introspection, i that; the critical' spirif'^^^oad; and I tha't the analy^s. of "character "is the i true reflection of that-spirit, that men. are more concerned ^rith motives' than' with deeds, and that the worid has outgrown the novel -of;mcident,' advSn? I ture, action.' And Tvhata change has I been brought about!. Instead of listen-| ing. (with how muckpleasnre!) to the j ! sons-sand-iokes that,- wittr *piprcsi and-; | brandy-and-.water. iinafe; Hie": night j mferry in the Care-of Harmony, we sip, J our champagne and tape philosophy or i stocks at Delmonico's. Dora's tribula- ! tions are old-fashioned; we are interest- ; ed.now in Miss Rosebuds flirtation at; Newport Who Car^'whether or' not j Bois'GmltaT.t's .adyances" ajcp .^rejected. j by ISgbgcca?-:.*W"?ero-<jfc^day. is j not a Srnfel' Sasten to him. as he urges his " sulC "Is fie'ndf refined^ as liefits the temper of the tiniest And is not Jacob Harvard, playing tenuis or lead? j ing ager'man, a much more agreeable j book-con^anion than Pendennis, mak* j ing love to Fanny Bolton at Vauxhall? : Alas, that wo should have fallen upon | evil days when cleverness, refinement, | over-elaboration and cynicism take the I place of the strong, simple, direct, I r?n?li'fiaa thof will t.Via I U.I ilLLLt>UXV . l^UUriiViuo VUUV ?? AA4 MW^> VMW novels of Scott, Thackeray and Dickens alive scores of years after the social studies of the present day are buried in oblivion. The allurements that this field of ficton offer to the clever writer of a metaphysical or descriptive turn of mind are many and well nigh irresistible. But if the society novelists increase in numbers in the next ten years as they have in the last decade, they / may echo the cry of the shrewd bufc f illiterate Hebrew who, commenting j the other day of the depression in the j I liLJ ^WUO blOrUVy OUiUUirtliiAAA- WA1V ?*? *? - I tion with the words: "The product tionists produce too much, the con-! sumptionists don't take it, and financial matters is in a bad way." Too much of this style of fiction will inevitably bring about a reaction in favor of 1 something more nearly akin to the 1 novels of the old schooL Yet there will always exist a demand for the : well-written society novel that shall be 1 a faithful reflex of life in circles from 1 which the great bulk of the people are 1 excluded. For the country girl who longs every Summer to go to Newport to see for ber self the polo matches, the lawn parties, the drags and what 1 not?the things, in a word, that engage the attention of * society," as she ; | understands it?a novel describing J ! these affairs of moment has to serve as a substitute. And the prevalence of this curiosity to know how those who are "in society",look, talk, dress-and behave is recognized by our younger writers, the more accurate they are in i aetau tno more vaiuDie tney are supposed to be. " ' i But what is their real worth? How arc they to stand the test of time? ; Will they Se found side by side with ; Pepys' Diary two hundred years hence, j and will they be referred to as of the j highest value of their pictures of mea < and manners as they existed just after j the Civil War? Wo can see the j historian, antiquary or critic of the future as he stumbles upon a dozen or " =io of these American. society novels i and pores eagerly over the mildewed. < ?The. Hour. Hard Glove Fight Between Sparrows, j Beneath a sign, over the door of one \) Of the busiest establishments in.Lewis-! 3 tnn. a. recess in the wall has formed * 3 one of the snuggest retreats for a bird J' or beast imaginable. As winter storms beat down the recess in the wall has been secure in its protection. The rains trouble not its quiet, and the sun can look in in springtime. A score or more of nests ^" birds have been built there. A progeny of English sparrows has, after uncounted struggles with the original dwellers, won the lands by right of conquest, and now inhabit its disputed domain. Over the sign open the windows of an office. One sits by the open windows and sees all the domgs of the entire family of birds. Their battle of conqucst was lately fought. Hastings bloody field was partially re-enacted. It was about 10 1 o'clock. A sparrow or two were loaf- ( ing around the house, when a doze? or | more intruders settled down on the i iron rods of tho awnings and signs, and began to make trouble. They were running things when re-enforcements of tne home birds began to.arrive. The aggressive, thick-headed English sparrows plumed his feathers, and all the sickening details of war followed. The uproar called the spectators to the window. Tho home-birds fought off tho intruders. Thoy flew down in increased numbers, and the i invaders fled. Two birds in the thick- j est of the fight flew up and down, and : up and down again. A gentleman on ; the walk below held out his hands, and j the birds settled in his outstretched palms end fought still. After the intruders had been routed there were ex- i pressions of joy in the nest. The En- : o-lish sDarrow is nothing if not a fiffht er.?Lewistown Journal. ? A Brooklyn man who hit wheat for a few thousand dollars last week, rushed ( around and rented a brown-stone front, and then sought the services of a' fur- j niture mover. "I'll take it by the job J and do the fair thing by you," replied the mover. "Well, how'fair?" "I'll 1 say fifty dollars for the two." "What two?" "Why the moving this week < into the brown stone, and the moving < in about a month, from that into a , cheap frame house in suburbs? I al- ^ ways job the two moves together in the case of a grain speculator!'* !' * Is Iiife Growing tfongfe*? To be told that under proper condition we ought to. live one hundred years, and that the discouraging doctrine of the influence,.of, heredity in shortening life ? pn^ true in a limited sense, is interesting to most people. Soy also, is the circumstance that we cfe living longer than we used to live, and the assurance that much may be done yet to prolong our Eves. These and analogous topics were given in a recent lecture1 bv Dr. John Foster; of Bradford, England, read at the .February meeting .of the Medico-Ghirugical society: '^Thji late Dr. Fair in. his description of the march,through life of a m"5Hbh children, Has given the following results: Nearly io0,006" will die in the first year)- 52,000 in the second year, 28;000 in the. third year, and less than 4,j30QjnjieV.'^ year. At the enS o'f forty-fivu years '500,000, or onehatf, will have died. At the beginning ofrilxty years 370,000 will still be living; at-^.^.b iginning ot eighty years, 90,at eighty-five years 33,000; at ninety-five years, 2,100. At the beginning of . 100 years there will be 223, and atl08 years L The mean lifetime of both sexes in England was calculated SQ&e years ago at 40.858, nearly or 41 yesrs. Mr. H.' Humphreys has shown, however, that in the five years, 1876 to 1880, the mean ago at death was 43.56 (females 45.3), being a gain of nearly z&yesrs. This within twenty years, notwithstanding an increased birth rafo density of population, and the unsanitary condition of towns suddenly gRJwn lar^e, more than 2J years have Been added to the iife of every-inhabitant nf TT!nor1<*nr? 'The Spectator asks:. 'What is the ?ind of life which is increasing? Are we young longer, or mature longer, or oil longer? Bo we live longer, or are w&only a little slower in dying?' I abound to admit that some of the gain infl&rly life is lost in middle life; that; v;h& the ea^pectation of life at birth is 25 &r more, tho expectation from 35 to 50 is a fraction less. But notwithstanding the slight increase of mortality at S5 and upward, a large portion of the additional survivors live on to the higher ages! Of 1,000 born, the additional number of survivors is 35 at the ago of ?26 at 55, 9 at $5, 3 at 75, and 1 at 'The increase is ffiuch greater ong females. By far the greater portion of the increased duration of tinman life in England is lived between 2Q and 60." It is interesting to ascertain what is the natural limit of existence. Dr. Fan* says the natural lifetime of a man is a century. That is ' the time the body will live under the most favorable conditions^ Another most interesting question's: "When does old ao^e commence?" Dr. Farr divided life as follows; Boyhood, 10 to 15 year?.; youth 15 to 25; manhood, 25 to 55; maturity, 55 to ?5; ripeness, 75 to 85, and old age 85 aid upward. In. taking the period-of- 05 to 75, and still following the fortunes of the million clfildren Born, we find that 809,029 enter ^s . age and 161,124 leave it alive. wseasGs of the brain, lungs and heart arsfcQip most common; 81,400 died of old age. ' The number.that enter the nextjiecennfsl?Z5 to 35?-are 161,124, and^ne^umber"thafteaves it alive is 88^565. Afcout 122,500-die chieflv of lung^heaft, brain and other local diseases. Nearly 50,000 die of atrophy, I debility, and old age. Some writer J Bays he has met few or no cases of J death from old age, everybody dying 1 of some recognized disease. It is true 3 that symptoms of disease are obscured 1 in old age, many cases of pneumonia 1 and other inflammations escaping rec- 1 ognition. But it is also true that many 1 deaths attributed to disease are mainly < due to old age; slight in juries,, cold, < heat, want, or attacks which in" early 1 pears would have been shaken o? Of i the million with which we started, < 9 1<IR live to thp. ntrfl of 95?223 to TOO. I r>~ "" ? Finally, at-the aged 108, one solitary * life dies.?New York Sun. t 1 A Remarkable Story, An incident directly connected with the late rebellion has just come to light here, says a Dayton special to the Cleveland Leader. Twenty years ago, I when Judah P. Benjamin, impoverish- 3 ed by the war, was about leaving the < then conquered rebel states to seek a t home in England, a wealthy personal f friend named Reynolds, living in Mis- f sissippi, loaned him $200,000 without ? security and without taking a' scratch ^ of a pen. The act was prompted solely by sympathy for his needy friend, t 5dr. Reynolds knowing that if Mr. Ben- 1 jamin ever becamo able be would repay the loan, and if not the money would afford the relief he desired to yive him. For fifteen years past Mr. Reynolds tias been a resident of Huffman Hill, 3ne of the most beautiful suburbs of Dayton, and is one of the wealthiest men in this vicinity, and probably has more ready money _ at his command ;han any other person here. He is engaged in banking and is largely interjsted in insurance companies and other extensive enterprises in this and other jities. It is" not - known certainly whether Mr. Benjamin ever repaid Mr. Eteynolds the debt, but it is altogether probable, as the money had euaoled aim to at once establish himself in Lonlon, as a result of which he secured a business from which, in the late years )f his life, ho received an income of ?200,000 per annum. ' It is equally cer;ain, however, thatUr. Reynolds never ? broached the subject to him or ever jave much thought to the matter, cthir than the satisfaction of having been ^ ible to help his friend in the hour of iistress. This incident has never be- * 'ore been told to the world, but there F s little doubt of its truth. 1 ^ E I A Fierce Battle For Life. j L On last Friday a combat between a ten-foot man-eater shark and a sevenfoot alligator was witnessed at East pass, near Pilot cove. "When his sharkship spied the alligator he went for him at a lively rate, cleaving the water J with incredible rapidity. The alligator stood his jjroxrad, and waited the on- , slaught with blinking eyes and open . mouth. Seeing his antagonist prepared j for him the wily shark made only a 7 seeming attempt at attack, and rushed , by his 'gatorship with inereasd Telocity. . When a few feet only intervened the J shark, by a turn known only to the j ? fish, wheeled with lightning rapidity | , and pounced upon his enemy. Quick as the movement was i-t did not succeed, j ks the saurian and the fish came j ^ together there was a terrible churning j? of the phosphorescent waters for a i <3 moment, and then the shark darted off: t; a few feet, turned once more quickly * upon its stomach and his ponderous. I ? jaws closed upon the saurian's middles ! ? There then was a crushing of bones ! j and flesh for a second, the water wa3 j ~ dyed with the saurisn's life-blood, and j F then one-half of the defeated foa was 1 f seen to disappear down the cavernous j throat of the shark.? Appalachicola j ? Tribune. jR f r Shapely "Women. A staymake'r, asked by a reporter if he ever thought of studying women's figures with respect to their nationalities, delivered himsel? of the following: " Yes the study is an interesting one. . English women, when they are young, have the noblest figure, so far as I have observed," said the manufacturer, after a pause, "but'they get corpulent, and dowager-like - after marriage, much sooner than American women, after which they may. be said to hare no figure at- alL English. - women, as a rule, are less ashamed of their figures. when stout; t' most other fashion- ! ables. ahd sclaom resort to tight lac- j ing. iV,Lrs. Lapgtry is ? snperbly shaped j woman, say what they will, and is a fine specimen of English women in feneral, though ! believe- she is only alf English, after all. Among fashionables the French ladies are apt to spare the scrawniness, but they'have, a natural talent for . making up and concealing their defects 'hat it is hard j to judge <5 them. There are some pret- j tv figures among the Cuban and other West Indian women, but they are short, ago rapidly, and soon grow dumpy; yet such as have been French maids manage to make up welL Refined German and Irish ladies have fine figures on an average. So do the Italian ladies. The few Holland and Belgium ladies I have seon, are rotund and essentially built. Thebest shaped woman, in every resnect, who comes into this store, is a Hungarian, wife of j a musician in one of our theater or* ! chestras. Her waist, bust, and shoulders are. like sculpture. She is tall, willowy, and statuesque, and her walk is the melody of motion. She doesn't walk at all, in the ordinary sense, but floats over the ground. Her natural waist measure is twenty-eteht, and she does not lace down an inch below it. However. English figures averasre best," ' ' "You have not said anything about the American ladies," said the reporter. "I reserved them for the last, for, as a nationality, there is most to be said against them. American 'fashionable women, though inclined to fragility, as a rule, have naturally excellent figures, but there are no other women who so persistently deform and destroy what' nature has given them, through tight lacing and general slavish obedienc to the absurdest freak of fashion. American women are the most unconscionable lacers in the world. But, everything said and seen, the British feminine figures are the best models." .The Marriage of a Poetess. me marriage or miss .bua wneeier has given the witlings something to write about, and we may expect to see a good deal of coarse humor printed about an event which#'it seems to us should be treated with that delicacy with which respectable people are in a habit of discussing affairs to which a lady is a party. The fact that Miss Wheeler is the author of considerable lurid poetry affords no excuse for the indecent ridicule to which she has been subjected, and whic&vhas broken out afresh, since the announcement *of her marriage to Mr. Wilcox, a very estimable young gentleman from New En- ' dand. It is quite likely that some who 1 txave basely misconstrued the senti ment of Miss Wheeler's verse imagine < that she is devoid of that refinement,pu- 1 rity and delicacy of feeling which con stitute the highest beauty 01 intellectual 3 womanhood ;these persons are grievous- J rrofforilt "NTi-ino Vmfc ft wftman rvf sp- 1 rerest purity and delicacy of feeling ] jould write such poems as Miss Wheel- i ?r has given us; none else would dare 3 ?do so. We regret the rude jests i which are emitted at this gentle lady's i jxpense, but we feel that she is too far ] ibovethem to be pestered by their itings or to suffer their evil odors to in- j .errupt the flow of her vivid but grace- 5 ul rouse.?Chicago News. j 1 Bergh's Sympathy for the Male. Mark Twain tells this story of Mr. , Jergh: A lady was talking with Mr. Jergh one day and chanced to speak ] >f a friend of hers who had lately been i raveling out west. In crossing the J rontier it became necessary.that the ather, mother, and three children J ihould cross a somewhat swollen ford. , [heir only beast of burdea was a mule. ; ^ 1 j a. < so me iamer piaceu lwu uj. tuc ujxu.- , Iren on its bac? then plunged in and . ed the beast with him. It swam obedi- : sntly behind him, and all reached the ; >ther shoro in safety. At the man's ridding the intelligent mule returned o where the mother and child were ' vaiting to Cross. The mother, fearing ' o put too heavy a burden on the al eady tired animal, put only the child lpon its back, bade him hold fast, aad, vith. a prayer, led the animal to the water's edge. They plunged in, swam >ravely for a time, and then were seen j ;o struggle and go down. 4 "Oh, think, Mr. Bergh," said the exsited and pitying lady, ,4just think vhat must have been tho feelings of hat mother as she saw her darling ;hild lost in the depths of that black vater?" ' "True; oh, too true,1* sighed Mr. { 3ergb. "But did jou ever thini my, . lear lady, what must have been the 'eelings of the mule?"?Boston Letter. ]?' ? lamucl Sbin Removed. from Office* i "De man who minds his own bizness las got all de work dat should be cut nt for one pusson- Dc man whose ingers itch to pick up articles he hasn't >aid for will sooner or later make a oistake and burn his fingers. It am luffin to me who gets drunk nor who :eeps sober, so long as neither one lamages me. I doan' kecr a straw to :now how de neighbor on my left libs ridout work or position, an' it am none 1 f my bizness how de one on my right pends de $10 he airns eacii weeic. "Gem'len, Samuel JShin was Opiated anitor of dis hall under de ijnpreshun ' [at he was strictly honest. ^ It has bin onclusiveiy proved dat he * am air embezzler. Had he taken all our money t would have bin in order to call him harp an, keen an' be satisfied to git talf of it back an' let nim go free. As .e sum total am only a few shillings stice yells for vengeance. Samuel iwns a" mule. Befo lavin' dis place o-night he must gin us a bill 6f saie of [e animal. We must have a chattle Mortgage on his cook stove. If he has ny wages due him we must serve a garnishee. Dar' must be no let up, no in worthy feelins of mercy. Samuel | Ihin am deposed from his position as anitor, an' de tranquil Cadaver Blosoms am 'pinted to fill out de onexlired remainder of de term. Judge /ahoots, Kyann Johnson, and Porus | )avis am nominated a committee to j Jnnrf tr% ! 1 uuiuve ue uuuy uu. a ? . iome on Grove street, 3a de reg'Isr lizness dat has called us together tojght will now purceed to begin."?Jkroit Free, Press. i The Moon Inhabited. At the astronomical observatory of Berlin, says a translation from Nya Pressen Helsingfor, a discovery has lately been made, which, without doubt, will cause the greatest sensation not only among the adepts in science, but even among the most learned. Professor Blendmann, in that city, has found, beyond a doubt, that our old l friend,1 the moon, is not a mere lantern r whitih -kindly furnishs light for the iovVAnfli onH srna rtnmr\a niaa J UUU goo WiUVA V(U I planet, but the abode of living, intelli-1 gent beings, for which he is prepared , to furnish proofs most convincing. This question has agitated humanity : from time immemorial, and has been the object of the greatest interest But the opinions have always differed very widely, and no two minds held one ; and the same. Already in ancient, times the belief prevailed that the moon ! was inhabited with some higher or- j ganized, intelligent beings, somewhat; resembling man, and-in order to-, com- j municate with them the earthly enthu- ; siasts planted rows of trees several I miles in length so as to form the figure ! of the Pythagorean theorem. Thecele- j brated astronomer Schroder, in the be- j ginning of the present century, faneied ; that he could detect places on the sur- j face of the moon which periodically grew lighter and darker, and from this fact he derived the conclusion that the phenomenon was a proof of existing vegetation. During the last few de- ; cades, however, the idea of life on the ! moon has been held np to ridicule, and j totally scorned by men of learning, j But, nevertheless, it has now been , proved to be correct. By accident Dr. Blendmann found that the observations of the moon gave ! but very unsatisfactory' results, owing \ to the intensity of the light power of the moon's atmosphere, which is that j strong that it afiects the correctness of the observations m a very nigh degree. He then conceived the idea to make the ofcject-glass of the refractor less sensitive to the rajs of light, and for that purpose he darkened it with the smoke of camphor. ' It took month's of | experimenting before he succeeded in i finding his right degree of obscurity of i the glass, and when finally found* he ; then with the rcfractor took a very ac- > curate photo of the moon's surface. tj This he placed in a sun microscope, j which gave the picture a diameter or i 55J feet. The revelation was most j startling. . It perfectly overturned all; hitherto entertained ideas of the moon's surface. Those level plains which for- ' merly were hold to be oceans of water proved to be verdant fields, and wliat formerly was considered mountains ' turned out as deserts of sand and oceans of. water, Towns and habitations of $11 kinds were plainly discern- ' able, as well as sierns of industrv and ! traffic. The learned professor's study [' and observations of old Luna will bo ;' repeated every full moon when the sky ;' Ls clear, and we venture to predict that the time is noi far off when we shall j know more about the man in the moon than as being an agent in English pontics. [ ^ jl "Working-Girls in Gotham, The opening of what is called the Easter season has given. great activity i1 to the retail trade, says a New York j1 letter, and there has been an increased j demand for clerks. Many young ] women from the country have come i hither seeking this kind of employ- j i ment This is to be regretted, as there ;; are alway more of tins cla^s here than j { the demand requires. To be more ex- ; j T Trr/vnlrJ cnxr v/mno1 OTATT1P.71 ! are generally paid one-third less than I* men for the same service. A good j c saleswoman can earn $6 a week, and in j. some instances $10. There are afewji who, being very expert, receive $12, j j but such instances are rare. A first- 1 \ slass cashier in a large establishment j is sometimes paid $15, but this requires I j Spreat ability and experience, and, per- j Saps, security. There are many wo- ! men book-keepers who, after long j1 practice, earn from $8 to $10 a week, .s bnt such situations arc not easily ob tanned. A few of this class earn $12, ic and there is one case mentioned where j8 a woman of extraordinary ability has;1 $20 a week, but if a man performed .c these very dnties he would have one- j 1 third more. An inquiry made. at the jc Christian association brought the reply :c that $15 per weel; is the highest pay I any woman can hope for, either as ;1 teacher or book-keeper. The best pay i I Is earned by a few experienced book- j r keepers, who are in the service of the rich families and receive $1,000 a year I g with board. Some artificial flower ' 1 lasers earn $ioper weea av i,uio suuuu i of the year, but there are hundreds of: t well-trained women who would be Had : I to earn from $8 to $10 per week, while ! t there aie thousands whose earning are : j from $3 to $6. The holiday activity, of ? ] course, helps this class, but there are i so many ready for an opening that!} there is no encouragement for country h folks. ; j Speaking of women it may be said : j that New York has more than its share: ( of working-girls. . This results from the;: vast number of poor people living here, ' < the number being estimated at a half j 3 million. All the daughters of this por- j, tion of the community must earn their living, and in many instances poverty , is aggravated by intemperance. The appearance of these working-girls is!) very distressing. I see groups of them ; going in the morning to their places of employment clad in that homely rai- ' ment which indicates need, and yet an |< occasional flower will show a little I ] taste. Their countenances are uncultivated and generally have a coarse ex- 1 pression, "which one does not find even in the poorest parts 01 tne country.: There we see simplicity, but here is j degradation. Those poor creatures j toil patiently wherever they may find! employment, hardly making a bare liv- j ing, and often going at last to the low-; est haunts of vice. It is a sad sight bat must always characterize a great city. Mr. Charles O'Conor had a habit at Nantucket of pacing alone, for an hour j at a time, up and down the deserted i wharves of the old town, and, with his j hands thrust in pockets and his hat! pulled down on the back of his head, i he appeared utterly lost in thought.; During one of these walks a visitor to the place chanced to wander down the : wharf, and was drawn into conversa- < tion by the celebrated lawyer. Mr. j O'Conor spoke of his attachment to the: island on account of the wonderful] tonic efltet of the air upon him and his j decision to make the place his home, j During the conversation the suggestion' was maue uiai? il vvm snaiigc uc ?y<*a, not lonely in so quiet a place after such; a busy life in this city. Mr. 0' Conor quickly replied: 'I do not despise society, but I could be happy on the island of Juan Fernandez?even .without the man Friday." New York City contains more than ! iOO buildings above 80 feet high. / " . WIT AffP HUMOB. | 0h? what is the row in Wall street about, ] And why do men act as If there's a. rout? J As if every broker's a skipper? i Tls simply bccsuse some fatuous fools Have tried to scoop water out of the pools With a sieve instead of a dipper. I ?New York Journal. Always laugh, at your own jokes. "If j you want anything done well, do it ; -! i yourself." All red-headed girls are not from the [ west, but they all nave a "color, reddy I stvle about them. Der reason vhy dhere vas so many big fools in der world, vas because eferybody dinks he vas a Solomon. A doctor writes, asking the renewal of a bill and says, "We are in a horrible crisis; there is not a sick man in the district" - Lives of great men aH remind us'that we have got to watch out very careful- -l lv if we expect to leave any respect-, able foot-prints. ~ -*=??? Never trust with a secret a married man who loves his wife, for he will tell ' her, and she will tellher sisteiv&nd her " sister wfll.teH everybody. <^^58 "Did Mr. Yeast ever strike you as be- - 7 ing a man of great force?" said a companion to youn^ Crimsonbeak, the other day at the drib. A municipal candidate whose principal supporters are tavern-keepers AM/] oT* /> /*? W-? A 1-- ^ Jl TIM 4- M ttUU aUV^-LUUiYCi.3, piUUUiV UUUUC9 iAJ them as 'members of the bar and bench. A suburban correspondent writes to inquire the best method of raising calves. It evidently never occurred to him to ask his mother.?Tonkers Statesman. \ i . "Just go over that scheme acrain," . .. said the bnnk cashier to a speculator, adding: "Never mind that old ,codger : who has just come in. He's only & director." The following question is to be wrestled with by a "country debating ... society at its next session: If the Mormon who has eiffht wives buries one of them, how mucE of a widower does he become, if any? . 1 1 A , ou vuu oav J UUI nu^viniu. iuvcajyu, Mary?" "Oh, he dofes wildly upon. me J' "Indeed; but he'll soon get over 1?~-v that." "TVhat makes you think so?" V "Because men generally soon get over \ sowing their wild dotes." "We cannot," writes a shrewd contempory, "impress too strongly upon all correspondents, when in doubt whether the postage of a letter is a penny or twopence, the force of the old proverb, 'Two heads are better than one. _ / Conversation between a Yale senior . t'" and an Obcrlin senior: Y. S.: "Do you. play with tops at Oberlin?" O, S.: "Xo." Y. S.: "Marbles?" 0. S.: "No." Y. S.: "What do you play?". 0. S"Copenhagen." Husband (airily, they had just re- turned from their wedding trip)?"If Pm not home .from the club by?ah? 10, love, yon won't wait " Wife / : _ .1?\ <4XT. J _> j /i t. ?;4-i. __ ^quiOLiy)? uwxui aypalling flrmness?"I'll come for you!" He was back at 9:45 sharp. If a man is getting shaved in. & barber-shop, and a fly alights on his nose,{ and ho gives his head a twitch to re-j move a fly, during which the'barber re- --\ ? " moves a slice of the man's ear, who is ;o blame?the man, or the barber, or . 'M ;he fly, or ike ear, or the razor? ! A lady reader writes to say that she aas been losing her hair recently, - and fvants to know what she shall do to \ prevent it Either keep your bureau irawer locked, or else discharge the lired girl and get another of a complexion different frofn yours. In New York a woman is paid six ^ents for making a shirt, and the pa>ers speak of it as an outrage. let iere in Vermont a woman not only Loesn't <ret a cent for making a shirt, rat things herself mighty happy if her insband doesn't swearlike a parrot at he way it fits. The organ of the bachelors is worried to find out why a woman will pend six weeks putting scallops oa ter dress that nobody but herscli will iver get a glimpse of, and then run ibout the neighborhood in an old dirty vrapper without any belt and every >ther button burst oil - f . Leaving home this morning for the" jfiELce, we kissed our little four-year>ld good-by. saying to him: "Be a good )oy to-day." He somewhat surprised is by saying: "I will. Be a good man, >apa." Sure enough, we thought. We leed the exhortation more than he. As they were trudging along to ;chool a 5-year-old Boston miss- said to ler companion, a lad of six summers: 'Were you ever affrighted at the coniguity of a rodent?" "Nay, forsooth," ic replied; "I fear not the justaposiion of the creature, but dislike its ilarming tendency to an intimate pro- * jinquity." When a certain l'ady refused, soon liter her husband's death- to let the louhds go out. a sergeant-at-law asked Shief-Justice X. whether there would De any harm if they were allowed to lo so with a piece of crape round their leeks. "I can hardly think," said the 2kief-Justice, "'that a uiece of crape is lecessary; it will surely suffice if they ire in full cry." " 'J, Little Florence C. was besieging her lather to take her to visit her grand- % nother, who lived some miles distant ro get rid of her importuning he said: "It costs $10 every time we go to see 4 grandma, Florence, and $10 don't grow jn every bush." "Neither do grandna's grow cn every bush," answered ;he little girl, promptly, and her logic vas convincing, They went. "W W " liis <i -nnnm in Tfnrr.P.r be ginning "I liave found out Spring's sejret." Now wo know that 4,H7 H." ioes write most beautiful things, and we always did and do admire her poe- . ;ry, but we haven't read past the first ine of this poem. It begins too much ike an advertisement of. a new bloodpurifier. We've been fopled too many iimes.on that sort of thing.?Burling'on Eawkeye. "George, dear," said a sweet young ivife to her husband, 'Tve had a talk fvith the servants this morning, and lave agreed to raise their wages. They said everything was so deaf now?rent vas high" and the price of meat and butter had risen to such a price, and jvervthinrr?I thought this was reason ible" because I've so often heard you complain of the same thing." A Chapter on Legs. Caesar had short le^s. . * Napoleon was bow-legged. Lord Palmerston had caricature legs and so did Disraeli Alexander Pope was humpbacked and had a cripple's leg; so did Cowper. Plutarch tells that Alexander's left leg was badly out of plumb. Hannibal had notoriously bi<r heels, and was kcock-kneed. Cicero was very spindle-snan&jd, and Demosthenes is said to have had a shuffling, stumbling gait, which meant that his legs were not wholly in gear. ? ii ... , .Jj|i * ; - '