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T i 1. In writing to tbk offloo on buinm tlwnja gire your name and Post office addrem 2. Budneai lettera and nonamanka- tion« to be published ahould be written on eeparate abeeta, and (he object of each clearly indicated by neeeaaary note when •cqaired. 8. ^Lrtiolea for publication ahould be written in a dear, legible band, and on only one ride of the page. 4, All ebangea in adrertiaementi muat raebua on Friadf. VOL VII. NO. 15. BARNWELL, C. H., S. C , THURSDAY, DECEMBER 1:1, 1883. $2 a Year. daya alter ink wg bepnUjlgi kaaaol the writer, net jmbUeetioa, but aaa Aidreaa, THE PEOPLE, Barnwell 0. H. 8.0. ALONE. I mitia yon, my darling, my darling; The embera bmji low on the luartli; Ami atdlcKl in the ntir of the houmhold, And liualicd u tht* voice of itn mirtli; The rain plaahea £a»t tax the terrace, The winds past the lattice moan; The midnight chimes out from the minster, And I am alone. I want you, my darling, my darling, I am tired with care and with fret; I wonld nestle in silence beside you. And all but your.preseneo forget, In the ln»h of th$ happiness given vq To those, w ho through trusting havegrowr To the fullness of love in contentment; But I am alone. ~ I call you, iny darling, my darling, My voict echoes back on my heart; I stretch my arms to you in longing, And lo ! they /all empty apart; I whisper the sweet words you taught me, The words that we only have known, Till the blank of the dumb air is bitter, For I am alone. I need yon, my darlmg. my darling, With its yearning my very heart aches The load that divides im weights harder I shrink from the jar that it makes. Old sorrows rise up to beset me; Old doubtisinake my spirit their own, Oh, come through the darkness and save me, For I am alone.' A IIA1TY CHRISTMAS. BY WILLIS H. OOOKR. It was just one week before Christ- cuas. Soft and satin-white the snow layover the fields about the old court; like tiny drop* of blood, the scarlet holly-berries gleamed through the woods, and the avenue of blaek-green pines seemed to fold their dmidical garments about them like a row of solemn old sentinels, scarcely bending their heads to the rush of the stormy west winds. Lulu liipley sat in the great oriei wiudow that faced the west, her cheek leaning in her hand, and her great dark eyes fixed, with unseeing lustre, on the steel-blae surface of the frozen river, where the orange shine of the sunset mirrored itself like a pool of gold. And as she sat, there came a tap at the door. "Come in !” said Lulu, almost impa tiently, as if it were an annoyance to her even to be disturbed. It was Lmma, the apple-cheeked maid. "Please, miss," said Emma, smooth ing down her white-frilled apron, "Simon has just oomo from the woods with a wagon-load of mistletoes and holly and princess-pine, mias, and he says, where will you be pleased to have it put ?'’ ‘ "Nowhere,” retorted Miss Ripley. "] want no meaningless decorations about my house. ” — ~ Emma started. .. ' ■ "But, mias, it’s only one week from to day, and ” "I shall keep noChristmas this year!" said Mks jtJ Ri^ey, . alu^rply^ "Why should I? It is only a name to me now.” Aud fhe drppped her bead on her band once more, with a great lump ris ing in her throat, as sbe remembered last Christmas, when Will Graham was at her side, his strong, loving arms about her, his tender voice in her ears. ~"We’lI keep next Christmas just in this merry, old-fashioned way, God willing,” he had said. And then he had gone away on that long voyage, and his vessel had been wrecked in sight of land, off the cruel reefs of , The news had come when the first snow-storm folded its wings of pearl abont the bleak landscape—and Lain Ripley had never held her head np since. "Please, miss,” said little Emma, when she came in to light the duster oi caudles that stood in a silvsr stem on thrteble, and heap fresh coal on the lire of scarlet-glowing anthracite, "could I go homo for Christmas day ?" > "No 1” said Lulu, shortly, “you can not. Why should I be inconvenienced for your silly revels f ’ "If you please, miss, mother is tc > •• ^ "No I I tell you no I” said Luln "And let that be sufficient.” Emma crept out, abashed and deject ed, and Miss Ripley felt a sort of gloomy satisfaction in haying quelled the girl’s fresh enthusiasm. "Christmas I ’ she repeated bitterly to herself. "I have nothing to keep Christ mas for! Heaven has held hack the drop of sweetness from my cup, and not all ihe chiming of every chnreh bell, in the land oaa mt^ke me thankful I" < As the dhsk deepened and the shad ows began to darken mysteriously over the great echoing rains of the old court,' Miss Ripley rose and began pacing up nnd down the corridors, wringing her bands and mot mug, like a restless ghost, until at last she pansed in the very spot where Will Graham had stood nearly a year ago, when he bade her far well—a spot where the reflection of (he faint starlight through the stained- gU-s casements threw a quivering crim- ton cron on the waxed walnut floor. "Oh, my love, my darling!” she wailed {•loud, looking wildly up into the serene heavens, "can you hear me from the world of dreams and shadows? Can you listen to the pulses of my breaking s heart T' And ss sbe knelt there, all alone with, her great sorrow, she could hear the ser vants talking in the room beyond—talk* mg idly, gs servants wih talk. ■Tut up plenty of berries over the ~<Toor, Simon,” said Emma’s chirping, birdlike voice. “If Miss Luly don’t want ’em, we’ll have it look like Merry Christmas down here, sec if we don’t!” "And don’t she want not a single thing?” Simon demanded. "Why, we couldn’t fasten up enough greens for her years back." What’s the reason of her changin’ < f her mind?” "I don’t know,” said little Emma, making a great rustling among the heaps of crisp evergreens. " Fine ladies does take such queer notions sometimes. Oh, Simon, I wish I was as rich as Miss Lulu r "Wishes is cheap,” said Simon, his voice proceeding from the height df a step-ladder, and sounding curiously muffled, as if his mouth was full of nails. “ Ever heard the old proverb : ‘ If wishes were horses beggars would ride ?’ ” “ Never mind your proverbs,” retorted Emma. "There, you’ve got that gar land all crooked I But I wish I was rfch, all the same.”* "What wonld you do with your money ?” questioned Simon. "Such lots of things,” said Emma. "You heard about—Bank failing last week, didn’t you ?” " I beard it,” ijuii<l Simon* between the dicks of his hammer. "Old Mnrrable, our neighbor, had live hundred dollars in it to pay off the mortgage on his house,” whnrpuEmma. "He’ll lose it all now, qnd Widow Portage had saved up forty dollars—a dollar at a time—to buy a sewing machine. She put it in— Bank for safe keeping, and now it|isn’t likely she’ll ever have a sewing-machine. Then there are the five little Chipleys, who can’t go to the Christmas tree or church, because they have no shoes, poor lambs! And lamo little Billy Powers is so sure that Santa Claus will bring bim a wheeled chair, because he lias prayed for it every night for a month. Mrs. Powers cried when she told me of it, for she says us how it’ll be such a disappointment. Wheeled chairs cost twenty dollars, and poor Mrs, Powers hasn’t twenty cents ahead in the world. And old Miles Stimpson and his wife, as is going to the poor-honse next week, will have to keep their last Christ mas without so much as a peck of coal or a bit of butcher’s meat. Oh, dear ! what lots of trouble there is in this world f* And Emma drew a long sigh. "I know that,” said 8fin6n, gruffly. " Hand me up some more of them cedar boughs. We can’t help it—can we?” "No, of course not,” said Emma, sor rowfully. "But if I w as ns rich as Miss Lulu, I could find such lots of ways to spe'nd money. That’s what I mean, Sl»<m.” -rr t. . " 'If riches were horses beggars would rii’e,’ ” chanted Simon, in a high, monot onous sing-song. “Ain’t that about enough greens for this room ?” Lulu Ripley had"Hstened -to the con versation,, mechanically at first, but with gathering interest as little Emma chat tered on. A new light hod dashed across the brooding darkness of her brain. "I am wretched myself,” she thought, "bat that is no reason why I should not help to heal the sorrpws of others. God helping me, this shall be a merry Christ mas to some one in this world !” She went back to her room and rang the bell. "Emma!” said she, gently, "Mira t“ said Emma, guiltily, feeling of her head, which was powdered over with loose sprigs of cedar and stray holly-berries. "I have changed my mind. You may go home to your mother for Christmas Day, if yon wish.” "Thank ’ee, miss, kindly 1” said Emma, brightening np at once. And she ran breathlessly down stairs, to trlhnpct forth her delight to the assembled house hold of the kitoheo. ******* Golden and glorious the suu of the blessed Christmas morning rose np from behind the snow-glistening hills. From a thousand church-spires the clang s of rejoicing bells greeted it, from a million holly-garlanded homes the voices of little children bade it welcome—the sacred little ones whom Christ Himself holds ever dear in His heart, as He held the babes of Bethlehem in His arms, eight een centuries ago ! * ^ The Widow Portage had been aroused uuwontedly early by‘the joyful cried of the three blue-nosed little Portages, who were as well pleased with their penny wooden toys, home-made cakes and one apple apiece as if they had fallen heirs to a whole ship-losd of automatic French marvels. As she unbarred the door, to get a pail of water to set the kettle boiling, she started back. "Good land o’ Goshen!" cried Mrs. Portage, who was rather given to old fashioned expletives; "what’s thin ?” It was a big pine packing-box, on the very threshold of her door—a huge, inex plicable mammoth of a thing, labeled : “One Sewing Machine, “From the Factory of Me Him, D —sad P—, “Far Mrs. Kalina PortoM, “ChristmiM. 1878. “It ain’t true,” feebly cried Widow Portage, holding on to the door-handle for support. "Pm a-dreaming yet. A sewin’ machine 1 For me ? Some oi you pinch me, children, to make sure I am awake.” Mrs. £• had settled this problem to her entire satisfaction, when old Msr- ruble came hobbling across' the road, faring something over his head. "Look a-here, Mias Portage!” bawled he, in the high treble of age. "It’s Santa Clans, as true os you live! We are all children ag’in, an’ the old chap with the fur cap an’ the team of rein deers is around at his old tricks ! A five-hundred-dollar bill, sealed up in a jailer envelope, and poked under my door, in the dead o’ night, an’ ma pickin' it np for waste-paper ! It’s the Lord’s own mercy as I didn’t barn it up, to set the kindlin’s a-goin’, afore I seel what it was ! Labeled 'John Marrable. Esq., to pay off the mortgage. Christmas 1878.”’ " WqJI, I never !*’ said the Widow Por tage. “Jest look what I’ve got.” John Marrable put on his spectacles and stared harder than ever. "Well, now !” quoth he, "I am beat. 1 must go right home and see what the old woman has got to say to that.” Little lame Billy Powers, waling np to the chill consciousness that it was Christmas morning, aud tharf he had but and rublied his eyes before he quite realized the fact that his mother was calling him. "Billy! Billy; I say! Make haste down and see what Santa Claus lias sent you, God bless him ! You’re very rich, my sou—you’re very rich 1” And flying headlong down staiis, in his tattered night-gown, as fast as his poor crooked limbs would allow him, Billy Powers beheld & cosy wheeled- chair of black walnut, trimmed with crimson plush, with a side apparatus, whereby he might convey himself from place to placoat his own will. No more aching bones —no more painful limping -along the dusty road—no more lagging behind the other children. Billy laughed aloud in the plenitude of his delight, while Mrs. Powers, seated on a broken splint-bottomed rocker, cried almost equally loud. "I don’t know who there is in all this wide world,” sobbed Mrs. Powers, "to think of mo and you, Billy. But who- *ver it is, I hope the good Lord will re turn It onto their bosom, heaped up and Kinniug over." When Moses Chipley, the eldest of the family of four who were detained at home in a state of involuntary blockade on aceonut of the unsetthd bill at the shoemaker’s opened the door to obtain a satisfactory snowball wherewith to anoint the faces of his four sleeping brothers and sisters, he bounded back igaiu I ke a magnified Jack-iu-a box. "Mother.” flapped Moses, "there’s sutliiu’ there—a basket! Aud I’m mortal sure I seen, a tin steam engine .anda doll's legs a sticking out ov it!” "Oh, get out!” criol the incredulous AIrsrChipley. "Doll's legs aud steam ougines, indeed !” By tlrs tim„v tin namesake ol the groat ruler of Israel had made a second sortie, aud, bringing m a gigantic basket, emptied it on the kitchen floor. "Five pairs o’ shoes !” bawled Mrs. C., heedless of the herrings that were scorching over the fira "A doll 1” shrieked little Jemima. "Hooray 1 Skates!” yellod Moses. ‘‘Picture-books 1” chimed in the twins. "A tin ingin and a train of tiu cars !” cried little Joe, the youngest, and chub biest, and dirtiest of all. "Aud flannen and caliker enough for all creation !” said Mrs. C., in delighted amazement. "Lord save us ! it’s like the miracle the parson reads about. Wherever could they have come from ?” Old Miles Stimpson lay late in his bed chat morning. Not that it was his usual wont, but old Miles had been distanced in the race of life, and somehow got dis couraged of late. "Where’s the use of gettin’ up,” said Miles, dolefully, "with never a spark of fire to warm me, and nothing in the way of good cheer to keep Christmas with ?” But his old wife could not so readily overcome the habit of years. "There’s the last o’ them chairs father gave me when wo went to housekeepin’,” said she. ' It’s all broken and worn, and it’ll serve os well os anything else to make a little blase to warm oar old bones. I kind o’ kept it for the sake of old times; but if we’ro goiu’ to end our days in the ‘House,’it won’t.-do us no good there. And p’rhaps there’ll be a knotty log in the wood-shed to help it along.” But presently Mrs. Stimpson came trotting back with wide-open eyes and toothless mouth to correspond. "Get up, father—get up!” cried she. "Something’s happened!’’ "It ain’t the house afire, is it ?” crooked Miles, from under the bed clothes ; " ’cause that wouldn’t be so un comfortable on such a day as this !” "There’s a ton o’ eoal in the wood- house l" cried Mrs. S.; " and a load o’ kindlin'-wood, and a turkey hangin’ up, and a basket o’ potatoes, and a peck o’ cranberries, and tea, and sugar, and— H " Old woman, you’re crazy !” said Miles sitting ap in bed. "Come and look for yourself!” said Mrs. B. "Whosent ’em?” demanded breath less Miles. * "The Lord knows!” piously respond ed his ancient helpmate. "Oh, husband, ws can keep out of the poor-house for. another month at least 1” And Mn. 8. wiped the tears of glad, ness from her poor, rheumy old eyes— eyes that had been dark and brilliant once as Loin Ripley's own. f > f ♦ ' ♦. « The ruddy firelight was penciling Its shifting arabesques upon the drawing- room walls, where Lulu’s own tremu lous baud had hung up a tiny crass of ivy and hemlock twined together, and upon the table lay the materials of her illuminating work—a half-completed text: “Though He shy me, y*t will I trust in Him.” Thus she sat musing, until the unex pected apparition of Emma—round eyed, and rosy with her long walk—dis turbed her. — "I’m sure, miss, I beg pardon for cornin’ in without the bell bein’ rung for mo!” fluttered she; "but there has been such doin’s down in the village! Please miss, it can’t be miracles, nor yet it can’t be Sants Claus—but what is it ?” Lulu smiled quietly to herself. " Tell me what it fc, Emma, ” she said, " and then I shall be a better judge.” And Emma told the story of the glad hearts everywhere—and of the good gifts that had come to the widow, and the fatherless, and those that were read; to perish. " Emma,” said Lulu, kindly, " listen to me. It was I that sent those things.” " You. miss?” "Yes, I. I heard yon, a week ago, telling Simon about all those poor peo ple, and I made up my mind that, out of my abundauce, I could spore some thing to them.” " God bless you; miss I” faltered Emma. "Audi culy wiah you oould see how glad and happy they all are !” And Emma tripped away, to answer a peal at the hall bdl, while Lnlu, who lived os secluded a life as a nun, and neither saw nor expected visitors, sat looking dreamily into the fire. "Lulu!” Sbe started with a wild cry, half joy, half incredulity, and there, standing on the threshold of the door, she beheld Will Graham—Will Graham, alive and in the flesh. He came forward with glad, sparkling eyes and outstretched hands. "Perhaps I should not have been so abrnpt, my darling,” he said, "but 1 could not help it. I hungered and thirsted so to see yon again. Oh, how I have prayed and longed that I might reach here by Christmas Day !” And he told her how he had lain foi dead upon the cruel rocks; how a kind TEETH FILIED WITH GOLD. k NEW TRICK IN THE THSIIE. H*w the Frsclea* Metal la PnrkeS Away la III**’* Maatka.: "There are alraut seventeen thousand dentists in the United States, and they pack into the teeth of the American peo ple a ton of pure gold every year. I guess about five times that weight of less precious metal, such as tin, silver, and platinnm, go the same way. Now these metals are worth $1,000,000, and in the twenty-first century all the coin in the United States will lie buried in the graveyards.” The dentist looked distressed at the result of his calcula tions and the reporter, to revive him, suggested that the figures were an argu ment in favor of cremation. The dentist shrugged his shoulders. "Yes,” he said, "but you’ve no idea how the gold is thus becoming used up. People used to be content with filling ADMIRAL PORTER’S REPORT. lie b«* MoaaMhta* I* Mar Abaat Oar Ra lea OIS Nary aaS Iba New Cralaera, any kind of metal; now it must be gold. There is also a growing industry in fill ing srtifioial teeth.” —"How eon they want filling?” asked the surprised reporter. "Why, n\j[ dear sir, they are made so. Yon know how carp-uteri will pick the fairest, smoothest board for interior work-in a IMmS and will then have a painter to daub it all-over with knots, crossgraine and splits ? Bo the modern patron of artificial teeth takes his ele gant new set to the dentist and has him drill out vacancies to fill. Looks natu ral, don’t you see ? Hundreds of pounds of gold are disposed of in this very way every year. It isn’t so particularly the gold that the wearers of these artificial teeth want to display os it is to have the average citizen look npon them as their natural grinders. Yon see, don’t you?” aud the dentist tapped his own false teeth with a little probe that he hekl in his hand. "Is the artificial teeth industry a growing one?” inquired the reporter. "Oh, yes; although statistics show that .only one-third of the people of the SUnited Sl"tes who really need artificial teeth avail themselves of them. B^ange, fisn’t it ? Yet there are abont ionr mil- Hion of them mode in this oonntry a wrecker had detected some faint aigni. 4$k, as it is. Prices have oobm down of life and carried him to shelter; how” lifrriWy, though, and where dentists Admiral Porter, the Admiral of the navy, in his annual report critideee the proposed new cruisers in soma respects. He says: "In esse of onr having a war with any foreign power, all the coaling stations of the ’kWld wonld be closed against ns. Hence the necessity that we should build vessels having full sail and steam power, so that they could make good speed cruising under sail with fires banked, ready at a moment’s notice to get np steam." He says the Chicago, for example, would not move through the water under the amall amount of canvas she will be able to spread, except in a very fresh breeze. There is no reason why a cruis ing ship-of-war should not be of full power in sails and masts. He adds: "I am not an advocate for extremes, bat I am certain that no ship LADIES AND P0KEE. POKER TO BE flAME OV THE RR. CATerna gf their PK^m with- nnjr— aha mouths of brain fever had enfeebled him, until the flame on life’s altar had burned faint and dim, like a flickering spark; of bis convalescence and home ward journey. "My own precious one,” he murmured, “God has given us back to each other, even from the very gates of death! How shall we ever thank Him for the great happiness of this Christmas Day ?’ And Lulu Ripley knew that God had in deed heard her prayers, and answered them through the sunset glory of th< Christmas evening, And of all who re joiced over their. Christmas gifts that (by she was the happiest Why Ueorgiana Won’t Bteal. I have been living in Georgia seven years and have never had bnt one visit from a beggar. I have never locked my front door at night. My family some- times go from home on a visit to a neigh bor and stay all day and leave the house unlocked, and nothing has ever been stolen that we know of. My stable and corn-crib is never locked. No h on ester 1 eople never lived than live around ns. My opinion is that onr people ore most too lazy to steal aud wouldn’t go after com nnlees it was shacked and shelled and sacked. I believe that if I was to put a bag full qi nice ooru out at my front gate some fellow would take it and carry it off; but they won’t go to the crib after it It is too much • trouble. Bayard Taylor tells of acautou in Switz erland where a merchant marks the price of bis goods and goes off to his little farm and leaves the store open, and when a man wants shy thing he goes into the store and measures it or weighs It and puts the money in the drawer. Tint is a good way and saves clerk hire, but I wouldn’t advise our merchants to make the experiment for fear of acci- donts. The book* might not exactly balance when ha took account of stock. —Bin, Abf. t * Story if a Tams Fox. in a nmaker of the Newcastle Cvur- anf, toward the and of the last century, there is a curious story of a tame fox which had been brought np from a cub at the White Hart Dm at Bridgwater, where he had been trained to officiate as a turnspit. The wild strain breaking out, ho one day escaped, got away to Sedgmoqr, and made sad havoc among a flock of geeao. A pack of honnds chancing to be oat, found him in eovert, and the fox, breaking, led them a long and deriomi abase, bat always making for the direction Of his old home. He finally leaped the knee of hi* mis tress's used to retire after eight or nine yean of practice and live in luxury the rest of their lives they now have to struggle on the beat of their lives and then die poor. We formerly had from $40 to $100 for a double set of teeth. Now $80 is a good price, aud good ones that will laat five or six years can be bought for from $8 to $16.” "Is the decay of teeth inereasiog or diminishing among the people of this country ?” “Oh, increasing. Two hundred years ago one person in five had sound teeth. A hundred years ago but one person in twenty-five had perfect teeth, and in this nineteenth centnry age of reform onr very latest statistics show that bat one person in eighty has perfectly sound teeth. It’s an alarming condition of things, snd by the same ratio it doesn’t take a very deep mathematician to seo that the time is near at hand when un- sonnd teeth will be universal. Their deoay is largely augmented by the nse of cheap dentifrices and powders which are advertised to give them a pearly look. It does just the reverse. It re move* the sparkling enamel and pats in its place a ghastly plaster of Paris color that is positively repnlsive.” A Harmless Weakness. A correspondent of the Boston Trans- script teHs-of his trip to a tailor shop this way: v ’ ^ "Said the proprietor, as he exhibited a bright pattern of,silk plaid which he assnred me is the latest agony in Lon don for the clsas of young men of the ‘old chappie’ order: " ‘There is a phase of hnman nature brought out in connection with these fancy waistcoatings. I have for years kept a number of patterns in my stock solely for the purpose of amusing cer tain of my customers. I have now and then an application for them, and I go through the formality of exhibiting them, but a sale is as infrequent as an angel’s visit. Why do I take the tronble? It is simply this: A man comes in and oaks to be shown a fancy waistcoat pat tern. I show it him. He looks it care fully over snd very often before going tway he orders a suit of clothing to be made of some regular material, and the ^fajicy pattern it put book in its aoens- tomed crating place in a drawer. If I did not have it to show, the chances are he would go elsewhere and another tailor, if be were wise in his gen eration and kept a few patterns, wonld get the order for a suit I wonld lose. The customer, who is generally a man paat middle age, and who rraaembers the style* of his younger day*, know* that he don’t wont a gay, his office quite unconcernedly. The cook, with whom he was a great fa vorite, hid him with her petticoats, at the raise time beating off the hoonda. Bnt this, we aw told,' 'would have been unavailing if the banffimen had hot whipped them off, and, after a ohaao of nearly thirty mile*, left this unlicensed poulterer to hie Jrt i has sail enough to send her thirteen knots through the water off the wind and ton nots by the wind.” He says wc should build a class of swift vessels like the Oregon snd Alaska. The report continues: "I dou'tscc jiuy reason why Congress should not appropriate liberally for an immediate increase of the navy, as it did in the time of the late civil war. We are now, in fact, in as bad a condi tion as we were at the breaking out of that conflict, though then we oould con form to the law of nations, by bnying up every old ferryboat and rattletrap that could mount a gun, and using them to blockade the Southern ports. If Spain, the least formidable of maritime na tions, went to war with us to-morrow she would sweep our gradually increas ing commerce from the ocean by setting afhtat the large, swift steamers she could buy in Europe, and we eon Id not prevent it., Onr vaunted home squad ron, and the six tags which one of oar statesmen declared a great auxiliary to our naval force, wonld retire under Sandy Hook or the friendly guns of Fortress Monroe, and lie obliged to I'vik qnietly on while we were being de spoiled, nnicm they chose to add to the laurels of the despoiler by offering them selves up as a sacrifice. In the end we wonld no donbt get the better cf onr an. (agonist, bnt wonld that satisfy the country for a commerce destroyed or re pay our people for ravaged coasts and burned cities? For with all the new appliances for destroying^ human life aud property, the horrors of war are likely to be greater than anything we have over imagined. With the private workshops we hate in this country we ooald build twenty large ships in two years. How much better it wonld be for ns to go to work and build a set of vessels for the immediate want* of the navy. "There is not one of onr ports that h any defence against even an enemy of very inferior character. There is not a harbor in the country where an ordi nary ironclad cannot para the batteries, choosing their own time for so doing. Ho it appears that onr army defences are .in the same category as these of onr navy. It is, therefore, indispensable that both should forthwith take a new departure to insure that effectual pro tection to onr countrymen which they have a right to demand.” garden, and, entering the kitchai^ high-colored wristcoat any more than be darted te the spit and began to perform dees a pair of knee breeches, but he likes to look at a specimen of his old favorites, and is disappointed if ha ean’t •ee It It’s merely an ilhutraticn of human eccentricity, a harmlrae little nothing Ton may bo vfwowigh to bo abloto ray your prayers backward, If your Ufa knot eoneet joalbtev^rholTM an. and so do other doodIo. Romantic Story of a Cemetery. - . — The Baltimore Green Mountain Oaa etery has a most romantic history. Fifty years ago it was the happy home of the Oliver family, which consisted of the father and two children, son and daughter. The daaghter, who was beautiful girl, had many suitors, bat to all did she say nay. save one, a poor young man, of whom her father disap proved, and whom he had forbidden her to see. He had also taken an oath that if be eanght the young man on the grounds he wonld shoot him.- Bnt true love not only laughs at bolts and bars, bnt at shot gnns as well. - One evening the young lady, having agreed to meet her lover at the foot of the lane, donned a suit of her brother’s clothes, honing thereby to escape detection, and sallied forth. Her keen-eyed father caught light of her as she marched boldly along, and, thinking he recognized in the tres passer the young man who had been for bidden the grounds, raised his gnu and fired. The feminine shriek which pierced the air revealed to him what he hod done. His daughter was dead be fore he reached her side, and from that day the father became a wanderer on the face of earth. He took his son and went abroad, leaving his property , in the hands of an agent, with orders to a the homestead for a cemetery. In short time the city purchased all the grounds, and the body of the murdered girl was the first cue to be buried thera 11 Thb Pinchbeck family, of Austin, is considered one of the meanest, stingiest, and close fisted of any in Texas. One night a now baby mad* its txpeetad ap pearance in the Pinchbeck family, and when Johnny Fixate top hoard the oowa, bo said: “Golly! won’t that baby bason, prised when it eemea to Rod oot what kind of a stingy crowd hf hM «ot to amongst! —MfLuqt, Whrnl a CMeae* ShwtMw Thloha at Ik* l**pMlar1ljr af lk« (laara. (From 0m Chicago Herald.] "Are there many lady players haadf "Immense numbers of them. They jet stock on the game worse than man. Why, I’ve known respectable ladies to iawn their jewffry—even their wedding rings—for money with which to set ia the game.” "Do ladies play well?” "They generally {flay ahold game, and bluff more than men. The beet players I’ve ever met In society games have been ea. Maof ladies give Uttto parties \ regularly, where poker is the order af the evening. And many of them make money at it. I’ve several times been ‘downed’ in a game by ladies.” "How do people learn to play f f "They commence by playing for bat talia, then freeze tidt for ioa cream, or some other (rifling treat; fhW fM&|r ante for keeps, and finally drift into a game only bounded by their means, and sometimes without that limitation. Young men who learn to play at home and in the houses of friends soon tire of a small game aud visit the poker rooms, of which there are literally hundred* in the city. From these to the larger gam bling houses is bate step, sndtaa major ity of oases their ruin is complete. Many a defaulting clerk dates his downfall from the night when he first opened the festive ‘jackpot’ for the liaki fira cents —and many a woman has been driven, or rather drawn, to the bad through the seductions of that game where ‘it’s all in the draw.’ ” "la the interest in the game on the ffi crease?” "Yes; decidedly. Twenty-five years ago poker playing was a rarity in the North. Now it pervades all rierara of society. It has demoralised the army. Beeratary Lincoln is trying to suppress it, bat with poor success. With pork and beans it divides the American claim to origiaality. A native of the South, it baa gradually spread, until it ia now played in every town and hamlet in the land. It has been introdnoed abroad.” "To what do fan teteibat* ila popa larity?” "To a variety 6f causes. It is a sim ple game with few rates, and hangs easily learned, bnt its peculiar freeing- tion lira, I think, in tbs happy combi nation of chance and okill; in the tax- onmatenoe that it is not a aihnt game, like whist, bnt admits of non venation and chaffing; in the great inducements it offers to a stndy of character, and more particularly that cos may times by a akflfnll Muff win with i smaller hand than ia held-by his on* (agonist ” A Typical Case. ~~ A "Family Doctor” in GamaD’s /’amt* ly Magazine writes: "Thera ia Mr Robinson's ease. Mr. Robinson, I need hardly say, is in fhia instance a mythical individual, bnt I don’t think yon will have far to go to find his counterpart in real life. Mr. Robinson ia something in the city. He has to catch a train every morning, and always does, though he sometimes misses Us bath in ordarto doaa ^ He harries through his breakfast—ha never is much of a performer at thisjaeal, and I do not wonder at it H* enters the train somewhat heated, somewhat ex cited, the heart besting tester tbm it ought Toward noon ha feels the edgn cf hia appetite, and blunts it with a bis cuit and a glass of wins. Ha has u ‘snack’for luncheon, probably a sand* wich or two composed of cheap tougl$ meat and near bread, and a glaas of wins* Ha oould sat mors heartily now, but bn baa no time, and betides he does nof want to spoil hia appetite for ffinner. When he does get home for the meal ofi the day, perhaps hia digestion needs a ’ 'spar,’ and gets H; then follows a dinner of many courses—soap, fish, entrees joints, etc'. Well, if Mr. Bobiiiaon ware a savage, mid only Uaeded to eat once a day, he wookfget on very waD. But after speh a meal is it any any won der that he ia fit for little or no exer tion ? He has more 'spun,’ however, and probably knocks billiard balk about in a smoke-filled hot room before retiring for the night. That he does not deep the healthful happy steep of the sfrietiy temperate is not to be marveled at Robinson’s diet needs reform in many ways. If he canid begin by getting up n trifle earlier; if he always bad plenty of time for the sponge bath, preceded by the warn soap-and-water wash;, if he ate his breikfaat more laanuely; if the toast were crisp, the bread not new, the tea good and well made, and the or eggs inviting and palatabte; i took no wine between meek; if he! more serious Inneheon and dinner; if h* studied not that and, finally, ff ho quantity quite