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!' WEEKLY EDITION. . WIKNSBORO, S. C., WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 6, 1882. ESTABLISHED IN 1844. |j|| i Gik???? p. /MiJiaritlps of .Ants. lilke the Ivy. True Iotp. jp like tho ivy bold, That 5^'i-gs each day with firmer hold; Th-a^roweth on through good and ill, Ar^'mid the tempest ciingeth still. }^hat though the walls on which it climbs ^^Have lost the grace of former times, Will then the ivy loose its hold, Forget the sunny day? of old? P V Nay, rather it will closer cling With loving clasp, remembering S?L That it had hardly lived at all Without the kindly shclt'ring wall. True love is like the ivy bold, That clings each day with firmer hold; That groweth on through good and ill, And 'mid tho tempest clingeth still. True love is like tho ivy preen, H^yThat ne'er forsvttetn what hath been, jgj? VvPd so, till "life itself be gone, iNtil the end it clingeth on. though the tree where it may cling o'^hardly know another sp-ing? gig "Lhouyh its boughs be dead and bare? ^k :oriocjminp ivy climbeth there, K *>s it with a firmer hold, fe't t^er love than that of old, W m^^^L^ousI5^ }'ouc~ nnd life was glad. y, h$s like the ivy green, My hope "hen c/? forgetteth what hath been, 1 " Hilu oUrtill life itself be gone, Until the ead it clingeth on. ?George Weatherly. SEAF0A2E LODCxE. " There must be no other boarders taken," said Mr. McCorkindale. "I stipulate tor tnau " Oh, there will be none!" said Mr. Dewey, the boarding and real estate agent, nibbling the end of his pen. " I know Mrs. Sweetelover very well?a most respectable widow, in reduced circumstances?and I know all about Seafoam lodge. A delightful place, v on the edge of the ocean, where a man can't help being healthy." "Very well," said Mr. McCorkindale. "Let her know that I consider the thing a bargain. I will send my trunks on Monday of next week." Mr. McCorkindale had been summering at the Adirondacks, and had found ihat mountain breezes, black tlies and dried pine-needles didn't agree with him. He was now resolved to try the effect of October at the seaside. And he wont home, well pleased with the aSk'.iZEi'' V T. ^ 1 } ~ ~ vorgaiu ut* uiKi uuiuu. Now, Mr. Dewey was in a partnership?Dewey & Salter?and so neatly dovetailed together were the arrangements of the firm that Mr. Saltes, who dined at ha!.-past, twti.e, came to "keep oflice" exactly at the hour in which Mr. Dewey, who dined at halfpast one, took up his hat and cane to depart. And scarcely had Mr. Salter lighted his cigir, and scttU-d his chair back at exactly the right angle of the wall, than in came Miss MattieMilfoil, a blooming young old-maid, who gave lessons in swimming at tiie Aqua Pura academy. "I want board at the seaside for a month/' said she. "At a place, please, where there are no other boarders. Prices must be moderate, and surfbathing is a necessity." "Ah," said Mr. Suiter, bringing his chair down on its l'"ur legs at once, " the very- place ! Mrs. Sweetclover, a client or ours, nas tancn seacoam lodge, on the Xew Jersev coast, and h^^cleaa, light, <tiiy room to let^with i ^ "Yes," I know," said Miss Milton. j my " Just let me look at her references." The references proved eminently: satisfactory. Miss Milfoil struck a bargain at once. "Let Mrs. Sweetclover expect me on j Monday," she said; and Mr. Salter! pocketed his commission with inward ! glee. "Anything doing?" Mr. Dewey! asked, when he came back from dinner.; "I've let Mrs. Sweetclover's room i for her," said Salter. "Hello!" cried Dewey; "I let it this j morning to old McCorkindale!" "And I've just disposed of it to Miss Milfoil," sputtered Salter. " Why the deuce didn't you enter it on the books?" " A mail can't think of everything," j said Mr. Dewey; " and I was going to I enter it when I came back." " But what are we to do now?" said ; m ^ Salter. "Nothing," said Dewey. "Ten to: one, one of the parties won't keep ' the contract. "We're not to blame that I can see." And Mr. Dewey, a philosopher after I his way, arranged his bulletin-board I anew, and sat down a human spider, to await the coming of any flies who . might be disposed for business. Mrs. Sweetclover, in the meantime, i had swept and garnished Seafoam j lodge until it was fresher than a cow- i slip and sweeter than roses. She had decorated her upstairs room j with China matting, fresh muslin cur- i tains, and dimity covers to the bureau j and dressing-table. " T do hone I shall i^e able to let it!" i said 'Mrs. Sweetclover, with a sigh. I "But there are so many seaside lodg-; ings this year that? Dear me ! here j comes a gentleman and a valise up the j beach-road, and, as true as I live, he's : making straight for my house!" " Have my trunks arrived ?" said the j gentleman ? "name of McCorking-! : ; dale." " Sir!" said Mrs. Sweetclover. "I engaged the room through Dewey ! & Salter," said Mr. McCorkingdale, " last week." " It's the first I've heard of it," said forstttbvgr^all in a flurry. "But: ? v ii' you're kindly welcome, sir, and the | room is quite ready, if you'll be so ' good as to step upstairs." ' Humph! humph!" said Mr. Mc-! Corkingdale, gazing around him with the eye of an elderly eagle. " Very ; clean?tolerably airy?superb view ' from the windows. Upon my word, I like the looks of things." " Do you think the apartment will suit ?" said the widow, timidly. " Of course it will suit!" said Mr. McCorkindale. "Here is a month's board in advance?ten dollars a week, the agent said. You may serve dinner if at 1. .Biuefish, roast clams, lobster salad ?any sort of sea-food you may happen g-> to have. I don't eat desserts. And ^ . now I'm going out to walk on the seaMrs. Sweetclover looked after him mm with eyes of rapture. "The boarder of all others that I BT: would have preferred," said she. "I am in luck ! I thought yesterday, when . I saw the new moon over my right shoulder, that something fortunate was going to happen." But Mrs. Sweetclover had not stuffed the biuefish for baking when a light, firm footstep crossed the threshold, and Miss Milfoil stood before her, in a dark blue serge dress, and a sailor hat of black straw, while across her shapely shoulders was slung a flat black satch9*? el, trayeler-wise. "Mrs. Sweetclover, I suppose?"said The widow courtesied an affirma p." . . tivfc v ^ am ^attie Milfoil," said the lady. ffited your room last week, of M^jSaltt-r." thought the widow. I bin. " I like the situation very much," ; continue'! Miss Milfoil, looking at the j curling edges of foam that crept up | the beacli at the left, and thr-n at a murmuring grove of maples at tin* . north. ' ! shall probably remain here until Christmas, if I am suited." " But the room is let already !"' -faltered Miss Sweetclover, at last recovering her voice. "Let already !" repeated Miss Mili foil. "But that is impossible. 1 have C..1? ?? UlKtfU 11. j " There's some mistake at the hoarding agency," said Mrs. Swe;'tcIo\*er. I almost ready to cry. '-It's been let i twice; ar.d I never knew of it until J this moment. Oh, dear! oh, dear ! It i never rains but it pours!" j " But what am I to do?" said Miss j j Milfoil. j Mrs. Swc't: lover's faded eyes lighted I up with a f:;::it gleam of hope. " I've only <. :i eligible apartment on | ; the second floor," :-a;d she ; "but if j 1 you don't mind the garret there's a 1 nice, airy room finished off there, with i ; two dormer windows overlooking the j ocean?" j "I'll look at it," said.Miss Milfoil. She looked at it and she liked it, and ; she straightway sent to the village for ; : her trunks, unpacked her books, her j work-basket, her writing-desk and her j I portable e:isel, arranged some seaweed over her mantel, and made her-, ! self at homo. i | Mr. MeCorkindale, going upstairs J from the dinner table, that very ciav, j nearu a sweet, ciear voice singing uil* : refrain of some popular ballad, from the upper story. "Eh?" said Mr. McCorkindale. " Is j that your daughter?" " It's my lady boarder, sir," said j ! Mrs. Sweetelovcr. | " Look here," said ISIr. McCorkin-! ; dale, stopping short?" this won't go { ; down!" "What won't go down, sir?" said! j the bewildered landlady. "2so other boarders taken, you | know," said Mr. McCorkindale. "That j ! was my express stipulation." j " I'm very sorry, sir," said Mrs. I | Sweetclover, " but?" " And I'm not going to be trifled j with!" said Mr. McCorkiadale. "Either j she or I must go!" " Couldn't it be managed, sir ?" said the landlady, half territied out of her ! senses. " Xo, it couldn't," said Mr. McCork- ! indole. At this moment, however, Miss Mil-! foil herself made her appearance on I i the scene, tripping down the stairs in | | a quiet, determined sort of way, and | facing the indignant elderly gentleman as he stood there. " What's the matter ?" said Miss j Milfoil. - The matter," said Mr. McCorkin- i dale, ' is simply this. I have engaged my board here on the express under-; standing that I am to be the only boarder, and?" " 1 see," said Miss Milfoil. " And I | am in the way." Mr. McCorkindale was ominously j silent. " But," said Mattie, with an en-1 gaging smile, ' if I promise to be very ! quiet, and to restrain from annoying j you in any manner wnatsoever?" "Itwould make no difference," said ^rr. ; ;1 " I object to young jyonien." 'nson.^0^-? " But," cried indignant Mattie, "suppose I were to ol?ject to middle-aged gentlemen on no better pretext ?" " You ;i,re perfectly welcome to do so," said Mr. McCorkindale, stifllv. j You see I am an old bachelor." "And I am an old maid!" pleaded I Mattie. " It makes no difference?no differ- i ence at all!" said Mr. McCorkindale. " I am sorry to disappoint you, Mrs. j Sweetclover, but?" " Stop!" said -'I at tie, resolutely. "Mrs. Sweetclover, if either of your boarders leaves you it is me. I came last, and I occupy the least remunerative room. I will take my departure on the noon train to-morrow." And Mattie went back to her room and cried a little; for she had become very fond of her pretty little room already. "At Jill events," said Mattie, to her sen, " i wm get up oeiore ciuyngnt 10morrow morning and have one good .swim in the surf." She supposed, when she came out the next day, in her dark-blue bathing-suit and the coarse straw hat tied clown over her eyes, that she would have the coast clear, but she was mistaken. Mr McCorkindale was paddling, like a giant porpoise, in a suit of scarlet and gray, among the waves. lie had always wanted to learn to swim, and here was a most eligible opportunity. " He don't see me," said Mattie, to herself, as she crept cautiously down in the -shadow ol' the rocks. " If he did, I suppose he would issue a proclamation that the whole seashore belonged to him. But I hope there is room enough for us both in ihe Atlantic ocean." And Miss Milfoil struck out scientifically, gliding through the waves like a new variety of fish, with dark blue scales, and straightway forgot all about the troublesome old bachelor. "It's very strange," said Mr. McCorkindale, revolving around and around, like a steam paddle-wheel. "A log lloats, but I can't seem to manage it without the help of my arms and legs. I've always understood that swimming was a very easy business, but? Pouf?ah-h?wliust ?sh?sh! Help! help ! Pouf-f-f ! I'm drowning ! The undertow is carrying me out and I can't help myself ! Whush-sb ! Oh ! ah! help ! he-e-e- i help!" And Mr. Corkindale's voice lost itself in a bubbling cry, while the deaf old fisherman upon the shore went on whistling and mending his net and the solitary individual who was picking up | shells with his back toward the surf, never dreaming but that the stout! | gentleman was diving for his own j j amusement. But Mattie Milfoil, cleaving her way steadily through the waves, perceived in a moment that something was wrong. Mrs. Sweetclover fainted away when I they laid the lxxirdcr on a pile of i i blankets on her kitchen floor. j She was one of those nervous ladies j | who always faint away at the least j provocation. j But Mattie ftaa an ner senses aoout; I lier; and, thanks to her courage and j j presence of mind, Mr. McCorkindale's I life was saved. "What is that rattling on the : stairs?" he feebly inquired, as he sat I up the next day in an easy-chair, with i a curious sensation, as if a gigantic j bumble-bee was buzzing in his head ; and cataracts pouring through his I ears. j "It's Miss Milfoil's trunk going j away," said Mrs. Sweetclover, with a ! sniff of involuntary regret. "Tell her not to go." said Mr. I McCorkindide. "Sir!" said Mrs. Sweetclover. " Do you think I'm going to turn ! the woman who saved my life out of { doors?" puffed Mr. McCorkindale. f "But I thought you objected to women." said Mattie's cheerful voice outside the dour. " I've changed my mind," said Mr. McCorkindale, with :i lettering semblance of a smile. A man is never too old to learn. And I mean to learn to swim next week, if you will ivaeh me." j lit.- did learn. Miss Milfoil taught him. And the old bachelor and theI maid spent their month at the sesiside, j to use Mrs. Sweet clover's expression, j * ;ls <|idet as two lambs." " I declare, Mr. McUorkmaale pen- ] siv.'ly <>1 Served, on the afternoon be-j v.rt- his term was up, " I shall be very j lonely after I leave liere!" "You'll bo going back to the city, vou know," cheerfully observed Miss Milfoil. " But I shall miss you !" said the i bachelor. " Nonsense!" said Mattie. "I wonder if you will miss me?" said Mr. McCorkindale. " Well?a little," owned Miss Milfoil. " Did you never think of marrying, Mattie V" abruptly demanded Mr. Me- j Corkindale. .? " Very often," she answered, calmly, j "And how is it that you never have j married?" limorhprl " Because I never found the right I one," she said. "Just my reason, exactly!" said Mr. I McCorkindale. "But I think I have! found her at last?and it's you, Mat-1 tie r " Is it'?" said Miss Milfoil, coloring j and smiling. " Don't you tliink, if you were to try ' me, I might suit you?as a husband?" 1 he asked, persuasively. " I don't know," whispered Mattie. j " Try me !" said Mr. McCorkindale, taking her hand in his, and she did | not draw it away. IIow brief a time will sometimes j suffice to turn the current of a lifetime ! That month at Seafoam lodge j made all the difference in the world to Mr. and Mrs. McCorkindale. An Odd Liuic industry. The manufacture of the oil of wintergreen has some interesting features ?in fact, nothing from a shoe peg to a locomotive is without details of more or less interest to all readers. Just at this time, says a recent issue of the Providence Journal, the essence of wintergreen is very high?as high as three dollars a pound. The oil of wintergreen comes chiefly from Xew York State and from Pennsylvania, where the wintergreen vine and birch trees grow in abundance. "Wintergreen is a plant common to nearly all parts of the country, but not in every part do j the inhabitants thereof make the oil ! of wintergreen. The makers of win- i tergreen essence are under the sur- j veillance of the government. 'Plm nil ic from winter- I green when winter green is abun- J (lant. If it is not plenty, birch; is used. The plant of an oilmaker 1 consists of a furnace made of rough j stones, a boiler, a tin pipe, a trough, a i barrel and a running brook. The tin ! pipe leads from the top of the boiler j through the water in the trough to a j barrel. Under the end of the pipe is placed a barrel and on the end of the pipe in the barrel is hung a glass jar. The boiler is filled with watef and birch bark and wintergreen twigs. A fire is built, the steam is forced through the tin pipe, and is condensed by the pipes passing through the water in the trough. The oil of wintergreen and the water fall into the glass jar, but the oil being heavier than the water goes to the bottom of the jar, while the water runs over into the barrel and is used again. The business is carried on in certain seasons both day and night, as the pot' must be Kept uoinng. me men who work at this business make their homes ; during the season in the forest or field , wherever the birch or wintergreen is j to be found. They enjoy an all-season ' picnic unless the internal revenue collector " drops down" upon them, as he has done upon many, and collects j thirty-six dollars for every still-like ap- j paratus he linds. It is supposed that some of the rude affairs for condensing, which the government calls stills, are so concealed in the forest that the collector does not find them. The monnfiptiirnrs dtanose of it (the Oil") 1' " - V , to apothecaries for about two dollars a pound, who, after diluting with alcohol, sell it to confectioners and others at the usual apothecaries' prolits. i The Old 3Ian?s Fish Story. j ' " i used to know a lot of stories | about animals and things," said the j old man, dropping a Nevada paper j and regarding the exchange editor j earnestly. "Some of 'em was quite i curi's and interestm'," and he leaned ! back in his chair and joined his finger j tips meditatively. "Animals do some very strange things," assented the exchange editor. " Which reminds me of my roan mare," continued the old man. "I think that roan mare know'd more'n a hired girl. She had a tail that reached the ground, and you ought to seen that mare catch trout." " IIow did she do it?" asked the exchange editor, brightening up. " Well, sir, she'd back up to the stream and flip her tail in the water, and out they'd come. Sometimes the air would jest be full o' trout, and the old mare a-fishin' and that tail flyin' around landin' the biggest fish ye ever eon. Oh, she was old Sagacity! Once man stood watchin' her and dodgin' ^ he fish, and all of' a suddint he referred to one as a speckled beauty. That roan mare jest turned around i l.: j.?.i i.;~ HilU AlUivt'li 1113 Ultimo wuu. " Served liim right!" commented the j exchange editor, energetically. " J>ut she died," sighed the old man. " How did that happen?" " The trout fixed it up on her. One day about p. gross of 'em got hold of her tail at once and hauled her in. She made it pretty lively for'em, and when she went under a good many fish came to the surface laughin'!" " How does a fish look when he's laughing?" asked the exchange editor. " Didn't you ever see a fish laugh ? He has to turn on his back to do it, 'cause the corner of his mouth is turned down. When he flops over they turn up, you see, and that makes him j laugh. Them fish what come to the surface was mostly on their backs!"? Brooklyn Eagle. largest Farms in the World. The Canadians are not to be outdone by their neighbors south of the line in the matter of large farms. The Toronto Globe gives an account of an enterprise that surpasses in magnitude anything that has been undertaken in this country. It says: : The mammoth farm of the North- j ! west is owned and operated by the j Qu'Appelle Valley Farming company.! It comprises a tract ten miles square, j which, aftt-r deducting the Hudson j Bay company's sections ana tne see' tions allotted for school purposes, leaves a lifty-six-thousand-acre farm, the largest farm in the world, owned by i one company in one block. ED1TI3S I>' ARIZONA. i The PIcnsnivs ol* Cowboy C'rif tcism*. Mr. John i\ Clum, until recently the j editor of the Tombstone (Ariz.) Epitaph, was in Washington recently, .aid > told a Post reporter a highly interest-: ing story of a personal adventure, | from which it would appear that, next j to running a faro bank, editingapaper ! in tho uncivilized portions of the West is about as dangerous an undertaking : as a man can well engage in. He j went to New Mexico in 1871* and in i it)?< : J.O<t \\ U5 a|?p<>lJll/CU Xliiliitll Iimm 1U1 the Apache tribe at San Caries, Ari- j zona. In May, 1880, Mr. Clum estab- j lished the Tombstone Epitaph as a "weekly. It is now a flourishing daily, lie was first made postmaster ;ind j afterward mayor. As a postmaster he ' had a hard time of it, but as the chief j magistrate of the village, brought as lie was, into almost daily contact with the rougher and most desperate elements, he grew accustomed to write his editorials in sijrht of his trusty vV-lt's six-shooter. In attempting to preserve ordfr he made enemies of the cowboys. This was the first step in a long and pr?slra"tod warfare which lasted off on for more than six months. First, there occurred a drawn battle nt midday, between Mr. Clum's chief of police and three officers, and four cowboys. Three of the officers were badly injured, and three cowboys killed outright. Th? fourth, who ha}) penea not to oe arm en, ran away ami i escaped. After this a citizen's committee was formed and paraded the streets day anil night, armed with six- | shooters, needle-guns and Ilenry rifles. Mr. C'um assailed the cowboys vigorously through the columns j of the Epitaph, and every time one ! was brought before him as a magis-j trate he imposed heavy fines. Then j the cowboys lay in wait for Mr. Clum, until he was compelled to go heavily ! armed, and dared not stay out after i nightfall without being attended by a body-guard. Every editorial added new fuel to the flame. The cowboys rode into town by night and tried to waylay the editor as he went to the oftice in the morning. Luckily he escaped all their bullets. Every ordinary plan failing, the emvbovs bandp.il together, and camn " " "V "" """ " O " ' A ing a few miles beyond Tombstone, in a deep and wild canon, signed a death'shead agreement to kill Mr. Clum with pens dipped in blood taken from a convict's arm, and afterward drank from a cup of warm blood, diluted with pure spring water. This came to his ears,- and he bought another six-shooter and another Ilenry rifie, and never wentout into the street without being ac compauied by several members of his police force. The chief of police was shot at and nearly killed one night. Things were getting very desperate indeed, and the Epitaph had great difficulty in getting out without the death of a compositor or an adventurous newsboy. Mr. Clum slept in a room guarded by men armed to the teeth. He did not remove his clothes, but kept his gun and pistol where he could lay his hands on them instant1}-. Life was now becoming such a decided burden that he determined to : pull up stakes and move to some place i wnere me siioigiuj. piayeu a icx> constant part in the progress of civilization and the maintenance of the press. To leave was, however, not an easy thing to do, for the cowboys, suspecting some such move, had laid their plans accordingly, and were pasted around the outskirts of the town in the bushes, ready to shoot him as soon as he appeared. < Mr. Clum determined to reach Tucson at any cost, and one dark night about 8 o'clock got in a stage coach : and drove out into the prairie. It was bitter cold, the horses were g;illojung j along in the darkness and snow, and Mr. Clum was sleeping uneasily, muffled up in his overcoat in the bottom of the coach, dreaming of the good things in store for an editor when he gets to heaven, when a loud voice outside cried " Halt!" He jumped to his i feet, and the horses suddenly renrei j back and stopped. The order to halt and the commencement of the firing were simultaneous. To the command " Hold up!" the driver rocrvnrirlpfl " All rirrht. " but. the shots frightened the horses and they broke into a run. After running about a mile one of the horses fell dead, and the coach stopped. Upon examination i.t was found that the horse was fatally shot. While this horse was being ci.t out of the traces Mr. Clum stepped to one side of the road to listen, as a second approach of the assailants was feared. Believing that the purpose of the attack was to kill him, he decided to leave the coach and take liis chances on foot, as he saw he had no show of making a fight in the coach. He j walked to the Grand Central Mill, j about seven miles distant, where lie was kindly provided for. After a sleep of two hours he started on horseback for Benson, arriving there without any further trouble. From there he proceeded to Tucson, and immediately left for the East. Mr. Clum has sold his ! paper and will probably not return to Tombstone. An Old Town. H Sieia, on me mo urauuc, nvavc miles below El Paso, is the county seat of El Paso county, Texas, has a population of about 2,500, and is one of the most interesting places in the world. It is interesting from its great antiquity and the peculiarity of its people, its architecture, its agriculture and its products. An exchange says that it is far fhe oldest town in Texas and tlier , can be little doubt that it is also the oldest in the United States. It is said to be a well-established fact that a Spanish explorer or military adventurer, named Coronado, visited the place in 1540, and found it then a pros- j perous civilized Indian community, j He was immediately followed by the Franciscan friars, who erected a church j and established schools the same year. ; These facts are said to be just as easily j proved as any other facts in history. | Now, if Ysleta was a prosperous town i in 1540, it follows, without a doubt, j that it was a town oeiore mat unie, i and it may have been a town even | hundreds of years before. The same ! race of people exists there to-day just | as pure-blooded, for the most part, as ! when Coronade found them 342 years ago, engaged in the same agricultural and mechanical pursuits as their forefathers in ages back. Editors are continually bothered by i the applications of people who wish "to have inserted in your valuable paper" notices of the comings-out and rrr,;no-c.in tK<? rlmvnsitlinfS and UD risings of persons of whom they never j heard, and in whom there is reason to | believe the general public takes but a | languid interest. If he declines to j publish the item of personal intelli-; gence that is offered him he is there-1 after abused by the individual who ten ders it, while if he prints it he knows i very well that he is throwing away valuable space. How to avoid such consequences is a problem over which many editors have grown gray without solving it.?Boston Journal. NEWSPAPER ADVERTISING. Its Advantages aa -Set Forth by Some Leading Business Houses Who Are Large Advert iacr*. The following paragraphs are the opinions of some leading American lousiness houses who 'have been large advertisers upon the benefits derived from advertising in newspapers : " We beheve in printer's ink. Advertise in the best newspapers largely and well, and returns! are sure. The stronger the advertising, the larger the returns." " Without the aid of advertising I could have done nothing in my enterprises. I have the most complete faith in printer's ink. Advertising is the royal road to business" " We have tried almost every sort of medium in advertising, and long ago became convinced that the results were largely in favor of the fresh and varied columns of the newspaper." " An experience of many years has demonstrated to us the great value and benefit derived from carefully prepared and properly displayed advertisements in well-established, influential newspapers." "Money may be thrown away in advertisements ;is easiK^ ia any. other way. Success depend .? -~n the selection of proper mediurr^ and persistency." The best medium in ('Air judgment is a good newspaper." " According to the character and extent of vour business, set aside a lib eral percentage for advertising, and do not hesitate to keep 'yourself unceasingly before the public. It matters not what business of utility you may be engaged in, for if intelligently and industriously pursued a fortune will be the result." "In no department of business is there probably so much money wasted as in advertising, aful in no department are good judgment and experience more requisite. Twenty-five years' experience has cleasiy demonstrated the superior advantages and economy of newspaper advertising over all other mediums offerijd for that purpose." " If what you have to say be strictly true say it' in a goo& newspaper. Its readers are intelligent, will appreciate a bargain, and of every such customer you make an advertiser. For forty-seven years nine-tenths of our advertising has been done on this plan, and of the whole expenditure all that we regret is contained in the other tenth." " The policy of every man in business, and who must live by the public, should be to let the public hear of him. His best speaking-trumpet is the news paper advertisement, jui a pupiuuus community and a rapid age like this, every trader must make himself heard and known, otherwise he will fall behind the progress of' his neighbors.'* "Of all the methods open to the merchant for advertising his business, an experience of nearly half a century enables us to unhesitatingly declare in favor of the newspaper. It is, without exception, the most economical, persistent, painstaking and successful canvasser any business firm can secure for the purpose of bringing their goods to the attention _ of the conclave what the-^nblie want, Sell it with moderate & i ^"selargely in first-class newjfp^SiTTw.^, you are bound to do.a trade. Let tiieL newspapers be theb^jst-youcan obtain, no matter what the cost. It is but natural that an advertiser must, in a degree, share in, and thereby gain from, the respect wliich a reader entertains for an ably-conducted lAiirnal " JUUiUlU. " An experience of many years has convinced us of the great value and benefit derived from carefully prepared advertisements of such goods as are in stock. Not overestimating their quality or quantity, but conforming as near as possible to their merits, and inserting the same in influential newspapers, handsomely displayed. We have found the cost returned to us in increased trade tenfold." " During the last twenty years I have spent thousands of dollars in advertising in all the old and new-fangled methods which arc daily set before persistent advertisers, and have long been satisfied that if a man tells the truth in the newspapers he is sure to get ample returns for his money." "Publicity is money. This has come to oe recognizeu as a principle in business. Competition is so keen, and we live in such busy times that a man's only chance of success lies in proclaiming the merits of his wares far and wide, up and clown the market. lie must keep a trumpeter, the public attention must be arrested, and he who best succeeds in this has the best chance of making a fortune. In this conviction every one of spirit advertises. It is not sufficient to put a sign over the dcor, signs must be sent out far and wide, and people made to see and remember them in spite of themselves." Sulphur and Xalaria. At a recent meeting of the Paris Academy, M. d'Abbadie called attention to some facts regarding marsh fever. Some African elephant hunters from rklat.enns with o.orrsnarativplv rool r __v climate brave the hottest and most deleterious Ethiopian regions with impunity, which they attribute to their habit of daily fumigation of the naked body with sulphur. It is interesting to know whether sulphurous emanations, received involuntarily, have alike (ffect. From inquiries made by M. Fouque, it appears that in Sicily, while most of the sulphur mines are in higli districts and free from malaria, a few are at a loy level, where intermittent fever prevails. In the latter districts, while the population of the neighboring villages is attacked by fever in the proportion of ninety per cent., the workmen in the sulphur mines suffer much less, not more than eight or nine per cent, being attacked. Again, on a marshy plain near the roadstead in the island of Milo (Grecian archipelago,") i: is hardly possible to spend a night without being attacked by intermittent fsver, yet on the very fertile part near the mountains are the ruins of a large and prosperous town, Zephyria, which, 300 years ago, numbered about 40,000 inhabitants- Owing to the ravages of marsh fever the place is now nearly deserted. This change was brought about by the transfer of sulphur mining in the neighborhood to the opposite side of a mountain range. The decadence of Zephyria has nearly corresponded to th;"s transference. The sulphurous emanations no longer reach the place, their passage being blocked by the mountain mass. Again, on the west side of the marshy and fever ? ' -? * - * r* .j.? _ j_ j i mresiea piam 01 v^axania, traverseu uv the Simeto, is a sulphur mine, and beyond it, at a higher level, a village which was abandoned in the early part of this century because of marsh feverYet there is a colony of workmen living about the mine, and they seem to be advantageously affected by the emanations. It is calculated that there are 250,000,000,000 of matches made yearly in England and France and 40,000,000,000 made in the United States. ' A. Scientific Hanging. Dr. G. M. Hammond, of New York, h :i rec.-nt communication to the Medit:l lb cord, on the proper method of Kecuting the sentence of deatli hv fianging. cites a number of authorities nnd cases, all going to show that the practice of jerking the body by the neck with a view to dislocation, is wrong, useless and barbarous. lie r-ays: In hanging, death takes place either by asphyxia or apoplexy, or both. As Taylor remarks, if the cord is loose or applied too high up on the neck, a small quantity of air may still reach the lunits. and life will be prolonged c? - ? till the slower death by apoplexy takes place. The main object of the executioner should be to adjust the noose in such a manner as to close the windpipe at once, so as to produce immediate asphyxia. Usually, both apoplexy and asphyxia result if the execution is properly accomplished. According to ltemer, of eighty-three cases of death by hanging, nine were apoplexV, six by asphyxia, and in sixtyeight both conditions existed. Of eighty-five cases collected by Casper, in nine there was apoplexy, in fourteen asphyxia, and in sixty-two both conditions. My own experience was somewhat similar to that obtained by other observers, except in the fact that strangulation was not carried to that point at J which respiration ceases entirely. My object was more particularly to de-1 monstrate the painlessness of the ope- j ration than to show the existence of , any new sensations. With the assistance of two medical friends I was partially strangled in the following manner: After being placed in a sitting position in a chair, a towel was passed around my neck and the ends twisted COgetner. ui course wiui every uwiso of the towel very forcible compression was made on the entire circumference of the neck. One of my friends was intrusted with tiie operation of twisting the towel, while the other was stationed in front of me in order that he might watch my face, and at the same time make the necessary tests of the cessation of sensibility. My sensations from the first twist of the towel may be briefly stated as follows: I first noticed a sensation of warmth and tingling, beginning in the feet and quickly passing over the entire body; vision partially disappeared, but there was no appearance of any colored lights. My head felt as if about to burst, and there was a confused roaring in the ears, such as is heard when the ear is placed against the opening of a shell. I suffered no loss of consciousness, and was fully able to tell my friend whether I felt nnv nm'n from the knife thrusts he was inflicting upon my hand. In one minute and twenty seconds from the commencement of the operation all sensibility was abolished. After a few minutes' rest, a second trial was made in the same manner as before. This was followed by symptoms similar in char acter to those mentioned In the first attempt, except that sensibility ceased in fifty-five seconds. A stab with a knife sufficiently deep to draw blood was indicative of no sensation whatever. ^Taking into consideration my own T^Trtoms and the accounts of those ? r^bed in this paper, it is obvioiS~tiiat^tsS%mp&' and orderly way to execute the law in the case of a person condemned to death by hanging, is not to let him fall or to jerk him into the air, but to stand him on the ground or a suitable platform, and to adjust the noose carefully around his neck below the larynx. If he is made to fall through a trap or is lifted suddenly from the ground, this important end can nevrr Via loenrflfl 'Phi* 1C 01 TO H/U OOOUXVUt XiJV At. '\/tJV IMAAANSMW v\ ? tain to become displaced, and hence death is not so sudden as it ought to be. Having arranged the noose properly, the condemned person should be raised from the place on which lie is standing by pulling on the rope, which should pass over a pulley fixed to a beam above, and he should be allowed to hang for thirty minutes. The rone should be soft and llexible, so as to fit closely to the neck. Probably one of cotton or llax would be preferable to the hempen cerd usually employed. Carried out in this manner, an execution by hanging will be effectually and mercifully performed. The condemned would undergo no physical or mental suffering from the moment the suspension began, and his life would be taken as speedily and with as much freedom from horrible events as the mrmmKnnr? nf t.lm nnsn WfYillrl allnw Imagination's Potent Spell. A well-preserved country couple from Maine recently paid a visit to the great metropolis and registered at one of the big hotels. The splendor of the house and its appointments, the electric lights, the constant strear^ of well-dressed people coming and going, filled them with wonder and amazement. When they retired in the evening?at an early hour, as usual?the magnificence of their apartment, and the soft light stealing in at the transom, would not suffer them to sleep. After tossing about restlessly for some time the good dame prevailed upon her spouse to rise and pin a black shawl over the transom. Darkness thus insured, they drew their nightcaps close and settled down to woo the coy goddess of sleep. After fifteen minutes of enforced silence the old lady punched her husband violently: "I can't sleep, Jedediah, it's so close in here. Won't you get up and open the window?" Jedediah meekly arose, and groping his way to what he supposed was the window, tagged and grunted at the sash for a few minutes. " 'Tain'tmade to open, Sary," he declared at length, stumbling back to bod. "Yes it is, too," she insisted; "I know'tis. You just go back and hist for all you're worth. I'm most stilled." Back went Jedediah, and lifted and pulled till his joints cracked like distant artillery. "'Tain't no use," he cried; " there's no hist to it." "Wall, then," said his better half, by this time driven almost to distraction, and gasping painfully for breath, "you must bust tlie thing in; l can't stanc it any longer." The tone of desperation in which she %poke showed that expostulation would be useless. Jedediah groped around till he found one of his boots, ;;n I presently followed the welcome sound of crashing glass. " Oh, how refreshing that is!" sighed the old lady, drawing a succession of deep, grateful breaths. .Jedediah crawled back into bed, and presently the venerable couple slept the sleep of the just. They awoke promptly at 0 o'clock in the morning, and arose to dress themselves. Upon one side of the room stood a handsome book-case. On tlio ragged edge of its shattered glass-front hung Jededialfs boot. The windowwas intact. Jedediah looked at Sand! and Sarah looked at .Tedwliah; and they both said: " Wall, I never !" To <ret ud a dinner of jrri-at variety, j o x -> j cooks should be allowed a wide range. THANKSGIVING DAY. ' A Festival With a History ?Origin of the Day. ; It is interesting to trace the history j j of Thanksgiving Day in this country.; I Its origin dates back to those sad but j grand old times when the Puritan j fathers sought liberty of conscience on the sterile shores of 2s ew England. Stricken down by disease, which in a few short months reduced the original colony of one hundred and two memj bers to nearly one-half, and their first ; crops proving a failure on account of j the excessive drought, the opening of | the second winter threatened them i with starvation. Their scanty store or ! provisions soon became exhausted. A day of fasting was ordered. At this juncture fortunatel^two ships arrived from the' old world bringing relief. Instead of a day of fasting there was a day of thanksgiving. It is true they had but little to be thankful for. Savage Indians hung about the little colony, threatening them with death. The soil yielded but small return for their labors. Mighty forests encompassed them, whose mazes they did not dare to penetrate in the face of their harassing enemies. But despite-a& this their+t<y ; liverance from death and starvati- ~ was deemed worthy of special thanJcV giving. They were grateful amid theiry privations and long protracted warfare against want, for having their lives reared and still being permitted that freedom of worship to obtain which they had willingly encountered so many sacrifices. Their heroic spirits never for a moment succumbed. With their prayers of thanksgiving were mingled the same indomitable resolves to give permanency to the great principles in- | ducing their settlement in a new and j untried world. This was over two1 hundred and fifty years ago. With the growing success of the Plymouth colony and the extension of the settlements gradually over the Xew England States and the pervading dominancy of its code of faith Thanksgiving day soon became a feature of early New England life. It remained local in ifs character for many years. As the people of these States migrated elsewhere the custom went with them, till now nowhere can an American be found who does not feel it to be his solemn duty as well as privilege to observe this great national holiday. And what a contrast between its celebration now and then I The first was celebrated by fifty people on the threshold of a new life. It is now celebrated by j fifty millions of people, making up a ' nation whose stride in the path of pro- i gress and prosperity has been unex- j ampled in national history. Following I the record of past events many occa- i sions are called to mind when days! were set apart for special thanksgiving. When the men of Boston drove Sir Edmund Andros, with his tyrannous government, out of the country special thanks were uttered that despotism had failed and freedom's star was in the ascendant. Nearly a century later, when peace was declared with France and the hostile tribes set on by French emissaries, there was another day of thanksgiving. The surrender of General Burgoync was made the occasion of a like manifestation of public gratitude, this last day of thanksgiving being ordered by the Continental Congress. In the succeeding, year. giving by the army ivas ordered by : General -Washington, and no doubt beyond the patriot band of Revolutionary soldiers extended this spirit of thanksgiving. While President of the United States General Washington had two days set apart for thanksgiving? one in 1789 and one in 1792. The ex-1 ample thus set by our first President in I designating special days of thanksgiving has now happily become a general custom with his successors. Meantime the fact is worthy of mention that the people of New Netherlands were not unmindful of occiisions when it was thought their duty to express also their grateful acknowledgment of divine favor shown them. This they did in 1645 and 1657. As already stated, in course of time i it became the custom for governors of i different States to set apart a certain j day in each year for thanksgiving. At; present, as is well known, the procla-.. mation of the President and the day armointed bv him are accented bv the ! j governors of all the States. The 'lay j is thus made one of general observance j throughout the country. The first ap- j pointment of a day of thanksgiving in ! this State was by Governor George! Clinton, the day selected by him beingThursday, Xovember 28, 1782. Thir- j teen years elapsed, and then Governor John Jay set apart for the same purpose Thursday, November 20, 1705. j There was not another generai thanksgiving in this until twenty years later, when Thursday, April 1-3, *1815, j was designated i>y Governor D. P. j Tompkins. Two years after this Gov ernor BeAVitt Clinton appointed a tlinnkstnvino- <lav and from that time I o o w j until the present each successive gov! enior has issued a thanksgiving proelai mation. During the years 1819, 1820 j and 1821 Wednesday was the day i selected. The same selection was made I in 1827. Prior to 184G most of the time it was in the month of December, i | but since that year, with the exception ! j of 1850, when Governor Hamilton Fish i selected December 12 as the day, it has ' been confined to the latter part of Xo- i vember and with no deviation from ' Thursday. Of course, it is well under-! stood that the fall of the year was and j is still selected as the most appropriate ! season of the year for the observance, ' the crops being then all gathered and ; the turkeys having reached an adult j age.?New York IleroM. Married in Prcscncc of Royalty, j An Indian youth and maiden belong 111J? CU UUVJ *JL Lilt: iu?>wO *?1 i/iiwi.n. V WA umhia who had intended to postpone their marriage until such time as the instructions of their missionary should have fitted them to go through the : c?remonv after the manner of Chris-; thins, changed their minds when the Princess Louise arrived in their settlement. It was their ardent desire to he Slurried in the presence of their "groat. white mother's daughter," and the: princess cheerfully acquiesced. The friends of the contracting parties were arranged in two long rows facing caeh I other, the chiefs, the hride and groom and the nearest relatives occupying a cross seat at the head of the two rows. The father of the hride made an address, in the course of which he said | that lie was giving his daughter to the.: young man and that thereafter she ! would be the same as dead to him. I Thereupon ;i large dish was placed ! upon the ground, into which the l'rienas 1 j of the giMiiin ca:t mo:i >y to compensate the old man f<-r hi.; ioss. This ; solatory offering ?i:-?*i!pioi! ?or:i* time, and wlm t!: -emit v;:?.; male | the dish was feat; i to contain , The ceremony er. i-.l ?vJi:j a JVast. In the fifty year., tr i >;0 t > IS-SO ! the amount- of money invested in e<?:. t<>n manufactures in tin- I'nilv.l State.; j increased from t;s jfti'J-V j <.H.H>.(M.?->. and the hales eon.;un:ed ir ?n i rJi.o'JO to 2,000.1X10: How P af Mutes Arc Taught. The Rhode Island school for deaf mutes is located at Providence, and is presided over by three ladies, the principal being Katlierine II. Austin. The pupils are taught lip-reading and ar- ! ticulation, and the Providence Press j says it is really wonderful to observe i how proficient in the first-named ac- I complishment some of the unfortun- ! ates are. For instance, one young lady, a member of one of the first iamnies m mat cny, is repubeu lo uesu i expert in lip-reading as to understand and fully appreciate theatrical performances, lectures, etc. Instruction in the art of speaking is, of course, very difiicult and trying, but it is accomplished, and the dumb are learing to talk. A Providence paper tells how the work is carried on: In Miss Kerr's room are six or eight little .ones bereft of hearing, who have been sent to school to learn to talk. In tliis room the pupils are taught that by exhaling the breath, coupling this action with the contraction of the muscles of the chest, throat and mouth, certain vibrations are made. The instructor gives examples of this, and demonstrates to then! how the aspirates are made,; placing th*ir hands before mouth to let them see how the air expelled therefrom, at the same time -Writing on the blackboard the characj _ i-*-~ ~ eV\A 1 ters representing tuu suuuuo oug u<xj i mades. Tlie initiatory lessons include j "p" and "f." The little ones are encouraged to make a sound, and when the correct one is given they are informed of the fact by means of the sign langnage, so that they quite readily respond when asked to repeat it. Following this the letters "m," "n," "u" are drilled upon, and when learned the combinations mu, muff, fum are begun upon. Slowly the pupils proceed in the lessons, mastering th, the, thum, pump, shoe, mow, spoon, lamb, pit, pot, etc., until 118 characters and combinations have been learned. In this list are included many difficult combinations, such as vef, vif, vof, vuf, vaf, tliut, thot, that, tliet, thit, duth, doth, noth, dath,- nuth, deth, neth, nith, show, shen, shin, shef, shof, shif, shaf, sheth and shith. In writing these words on the blackboard the teacher resorts to phonetic spelling, which is far less likely to mislead the children than correct spelling. In tliis room, too, the rti.n/iron ore orimn Ipssnns in the kind Vi V-AA ui. v > v? ?? ergarten system, such as matching colors and putting together "dissected " animals. It was by the use of these cards that one little one, groping in darkness, was led into the bright light of learning.^ All else failed, or seemed to fail, to reach her mind, but she gradually began to match the colors, and from that little steppir.g-stone she strode onward toward the desired goaL Animals in Norway. A correspondent makes the following remarks on a very pleasant feature ol' the -SI onvegian character, viz., kindness to domestic animals. In that country, he says, these animals are treated as the friends rather than the slaves of man." As a result, vicious horses are unknown; foals follow their dams at work in the fields or on the road as soon as they have sufficient strength, and thus gen^^_accust.omi ^themselves tp iianiess, ?^SB8SSe^H loaTc^SSgvoiQirCg'Kuiiwua1 ruw%. - t. in imitation of its mother. Horses are trained to obey the voice rather than the hand; bearing reins are not used, and the whip, if carried at all, is hardly ever made use of. Great care is taken not to overload carts, especially in the case of young horses, and consequently a broken knee is rarely seen, and the animals continue fat, in good condition, and capable of work till the advanced age of twenty-five or thirty. So tame are the Norwegian horses and cows that they will allow casual passers-by to caress them while they are lying down. Even domestic cats will approach a boy with confidence, knowing that no chasing or worrying awaits them. One very hot summer's day i met a woman holding up an umbrella to carefully screen what I supposed was a little child at her side from the scorching rays of a midday * M 1 ?? 1 ^-1 r* Sllil, "VVilllG ner OW u ucau vv ao y ucu only by a handkerchief. Id driving by I tried to gain a glimpse of her charge, and found, to my great surprise, that the object of lier care was a fat, black pig. The question of humane methods of slaughtering animals has lately been prominently brought forward in England. In this the Norwegians show us a good example; they never use the knife without lirst stunning the animal. In the above remarks I am alluding to the country districts of Norway; in the towns the national characteristics become modified, although even under these conditions kindness to animals is still remarkable. To those whose hearts are sickened by the sights of cruelty daily witnessed in our streets it must be a consolation to learn that a country exists where these tilings are unknown, where men are instinctively considerate to the animals dependent on them, and where no legislation is required to enforce the * * " .1 1. i ci:i:;j)s ot my uumu ticaijiuu..??.?/? Tunes. Xot Accustomed to Strangers. Professor James Bell, the Smithsonian institution's agent, is a source of frequent and startling surprises to the natives. The average rural Floridian is not much afraid of snakes, encountered in the wild freedom of the woods where, if the reptile will not run the man can; but the professor keeps the snakes in his room and about the yard, in boxes and crates, in a manner at once careless, familiar and appalling. A countryman called upon Professor Bell lately, and was a good <;-al discomposed upon entering the r.>:>in at seeing a iiuge rattlesnake throw himself from a sofa pillow which, evidently for his benefit, had !>eon Hum: upon a chair, fall j with ;i loud slap upon the iloor, glide into :i corner, coil himself up again, and, waving his head to and fro, begin that uncanny buzz of t h : tail dreaded by woodsmen, while tli-? room became pervaded with the heavy perfume of the reptile's musk, i -Great jeeswax!" exclaimed the astounded visitor. "Come in?; sit dow n, ened the cordial snake-herder, ' handing his visitor the chair just vaCJitvil by the rattlesnake. "Don't j mind him, he is not used to strangers, that's all." Then addressing the still angry snake he cried in tones of in- j dignant remonstrance: "Yuu! suh! hush that fuss!" The reptile hushed, j !.;;t hv> kept his weather eye on the j stranger, and every time the uneasy j visitor moved the snuke gave a warning bir/.z with lii.s tail. But the visit j did in?t last long.?Florida Times. A maple tree one foot in diameter! grows cut of a solid rock, three feet ! from the ground, on the farm of Judge j IJron/ 'ii. o;'S ymour, Allegany county, j . \ . A ( '(Wirniuu iiuuui uvu luuuca ! : juts from the trunk of the 1r?? ;i foot from the ground. It i; a.; nourishing as any of the other j i The commonest of all Indian ants, M or at any rate, the most conspicuous, - rM are the black ones, to be found marauding on every sideboard, and whose nor- ; - -' fM mal state seems to be one of criminal trespass. These, from tlieir size, are perhaps also the most interesting, as it requires little exertion to distinguish ^sj between the classes of individuals that in tiie aggregate make up a nest of , ants. There is the blustering soldier, :M a policcman ant. wno goes aooui, wag- -;i ging his great head or snapping his jaws at nothing; furious exceedingly when insulted; but, as a rule, preferring to patrol in the shady neighborhoods?the backwaters of life?where he can peer idly into cracks and holes. See him as he saunters up the path, pretending to be on the lookout for suspicious characters, stopping strangers with impertinent inquiries, leering at the modest wire-worm who is hurrying home. Watch him swaggering to meet a friend whose beat ends at the corner and with whom he will loiter for the next hour. Suddenly a blossom falls from the orange tree overhead. ?ts display of energy is now terrific. He dashes :ibout in all directions, jostles w the foot passengers,'and then pretends that they had attacked, him. He continually loses his own balance and has to scramble out of worm-holes and dusty crevices, or he comes in collision f| with a blade of grass, which he bravelv turns up and utterly discomforts, and then on a sudden, tail up, he whirls . || home to report at headquarters the recent violent volcanic disturbance which, being at his post, he was fortu- jM Qately able to suppress. . V:.JI Another and more numerous section 11 of the community of ants are the loaf- . "1 ers who spend lives of the most laborious idleness. Instead of joining the long thread of honest worker ants, stretching from the nest to the next garden, and busy importing food to the nurseries, they hang about the ^ . J doors and eke out a day spent in sham industry by retiring at intervals to perform an elaborate toilet. Between :?Jp whiles the loafer affects a violent energy. He makes a rush along the "high road, jostling all the laden returners, stops most of them to ask commonplace questions or to wonder idly at their burdens; and then, as if struck by a bright idea, or the sudden remembrance of something he had forgotten, he turns sharp round and rushes home?tumbling headlong into the nest with an avalanche of rubbish behind him, which it will take the whole colony a long time to bring out M again. The loafer, meanwhile, retires to clean his legs. Sometimes, also, in. |jg| order to be thought active and vigilant he raises a false alarm of danger, and skirmishes valiantly in the rear with -j> an imaginary foe, a husk of corn-seed or a tliistle-down. One such loafer came, under my own observation, to a miserable end. Thinking to be busy chiefly he entered into combat with a very small fly. But the small fly was the unsuspected possessor of a powerful sting, whereupon the unhappy loafer, with his tail curled up to his mouth, rolled about in agony until a .. policeman catching sight of him, and . seeing that he was either drunk, ||j riotous or mcapaDie, nppea mm ,?.-: into two pieces, and a "worker" ' S happening to pass by carried him th for 111 gMMiTwl j ^"e^^S^TiSuDl^or purpose and an obstinate, unflagging industry. The day breaks, the front door is opened, and the honest ant ascends to daylight. He finds that a passer-by ;;d|| has effaced the track along which he - ran so often yesterday, but his memory is good and natural landmarks abound. V He casts about like a pigeon when first thrown up in the air, and then he's-ftg^ . Straight up the path to the little snag of stone that is sticking out?up one side of it down the other?over the bank?through a forest of weeds? round a lake of dew, and then, with 'M an ordinary instinct for a straight line, he goes whirling off across the cucumber-bed to some far spot, where he v knows is lying a stem of maize heavily laden with grain. Then, with a fraction of seed in his pincers, he hurries home, hands it over to the commissariat and is off again ior auouier. iuiu. so, u. me gi<un holds out, lie will go until sunset, and the little fluffy, round-faced owls, sitting on the sentinel cypress trees, aro screeching an elicet to the lingering day birds, the honest ant is busy closing up his doors; and before the mynas, passing overhead and calling as they go to belated wanderers, have % reached the bamboo clumps which sough by the river, he will be sleeping the sleep of the honest. With industry, however, the catalogue of the virtues of ants begins and ends. They have an instinct of hard work, and, useless or not, they do it? mine most; lawriui o ?a? mcj uw, but, except for the wisdom which industry argues, ants have no title whatever to the epithet of "wise." Until they learn that to run up one side of ~ a post and down the other is not the quickest way of getting down the post, then can scarcely be accused of even common sense.?From "Under the Sim." The Great Comet. Professor H. A. Howe, of Denver, lias computed the following as the elements of the orbit of the great comet of 188*2, referred to Washington time, and the apparent eclipse and equinox of September 30,1882: Perihelion, passage September 16,9935 *. v~: Perihelion point. 56 deg. 6m. 25s. North node . 346 deg. 11m. 38s. Inclination 142 d eg. 3m. 14s*. Node to Perihelion 69 deg. 54m. 47a. Logarithm of <j- 7*90516 Logarithm of e 9*99998 Tutting these figures into language which is intelligible to the great mar - S jority of our readers, we liave the lotlowing points: 1. The comet passed within 750,000 " miles from the sun's center, and only : . about 300,000 miles from his apparent 2. The comet swings out into space to a distance about ten times as great V . as the distance of Xeptune from the 3. The period of revolution is fully 2,000 years. Therefore: 4. This comet is not the one of 1848; 5. There is no danger it will tumble into the sun next year; or at any other ' time sufficiently near to cause a pang ;||| of sorrow to any one now living. G. We might also infer that, as two An tT*io />Atn V/i. luc * (twiv/iAo vu ?i iiivu i.in.i ?aii^i? . ^ putation is based were made after the '^1 comet had left the immediate neighborhood of the sun. its speed was not materially lessened by friction during the perihelion passage; and that, therefore, the corona is not so dense at a height of 300,000 miles above the solar surface as has been rather wicte!y be^_^? lieved in recent years.?Chicago Tr>~ Mr Bearden, aged 104 years, was V recently married to Mrs. Lec, ageH forty years, at Bibb, Ala. ' aW m The English apple crop was the 'worst in ten years;" that of Germany and Belgium "very poor." ?/m H - '