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/ \ 'JW t, < »1 sw-'t i- •'a ' #* , u ^ € ■ ^ TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBORO. S. 0.. JULY 28. 1883. ESTABLISHED 1848 THE VERDICT —OF- THE PEOPLE BUY THE BEST! Mr. J. O. Boag -Dear Sir: I bought the Oral Davis Machine sold by you over five years ago for my wife, who has given it a long and fair trial. I am well pleased with it. It never Rives any rouble, and Is as good as when first bought. J. W. HOUCK. Wlnnsboro, S. C:, April 1883. Mr. Boag: T ou wish to know what 1 have to say in regard to the Davis Machine bought of you three years ago. I feel 1 can’t say too much in its favor. I made abont $80,00 within five months, at times running it so fast that the needle would get per- fectlv hot from friction. I feel confident I could not have done the same work with as much ease and so well with any other machine. No time lost In adjusting attachments. The lightest running machine 1 have ever treadled. Brother James and Williams’ families are as much pleased with their Davis Machines bought or you. I want no better machine. As I said before, I don’t think too much can be said for the Davis Machine. Respectfully, Ellen s-tevknson, Fairfield County, Apr!’, 1883. Mr. Boag : My machine gives me perfect satis faction. I find no fault with it The attachments are so simple, i wish for no better than the Davis Vertical Feed. Respectfully. Mrs. R. Milling. Fairfield county, Apr!’, 1883. Mr. Boag: I bought a Davis Vertical Feed Sewing Machine from you four years ago. I am delighted with it. It never has given me any trouble, and has never been the least out of order. It Is as good as when I first bought it. I can cheerfully recommend it. Respectfully, Mrs. M. J. Kirkland. Montlcello, April 30,1883. This Is to certify that I have been using a Davis Vertical Feed Sewing Machine for over tw i years, purchased of Mr. J. O. Boag. I*haven’t found It possessed of any fanlt—all the attachments are so simple. It never refuses to work, and is certainly the lightest running in the market. I consider it a first-class machine. Very respectfully. Minnie M. Willinguah. Oakland, Fairfield county, S. C. Mr Boag : i am wen p’easea in every particuia with the Davis Machine bought of you. I think i a first-class machine in every respect. You knew you sold several machines of the same make to different members of our families, all of whom, as far as I know, are well pleased with them. Respectfully, Mrs. M. II. Moblev. Fairfield county, April, 1883. This Isto ceruty we have had in constant use the Davis Machine bought ot yon about three years ago. As we take In work, and have made the prlceof it several times over, we don’t want any better machine. It Is always ready to do any kind of work we have to do. No puckering or skipping stitches. We can only say we are well pleased and wish no better machine, Catherine Wylie and Sister. April 25,1883. I have no fault to find with my mnchne, and don’t want any better. I have made the price of it several times by taking in sewing. It is always ready to do its work. I think it a first-class ma chine. I feel I can't say too much for the Davis Vertical Feed Machine. Mrs. Thumas Smith. Fairfield county, April, 1883. t gi pleasu.e to testify to the merits of the Davis Ver tical Feed Sewing Machine. The machine I got of yon about five years ago. has been almost In con stant nse ever since that time. I cannot see that It is worn any, and has not cost me one cent for repairs since we have bad it Am well pleased and don’t wish for any better. Yours tru'y, Kobt. Crawford, Granite Quarry, near Wlnnsboro S. C. We have used the Davis Vertical Feed Sewing Machine for the last five years. We would not have any other make at any price. The machine has given us unbounded satisfaction. Very respectfully, Mrs. W. K. Turner and Daughters^ Fairfield county, S. C., Jan. 2i, 1883. Having bought a Davis Vertical Feed Sewing Machine from Mr. J. O. Boag some three years ago, and It having given me perfect satisfaction in •very resjiect as a family machine, both for hea.y and light sewing, and never needed the least re pair In any way, I can cheerfully recommend it to any one as a first-class machine in every particu lar, and think it second to none. It Is one ot the simplest machines made; my children use It with all ease. The attachments are more easily ad justed and It does a greater range of work by means of its Vertical Feed than any other ma chine 1 have ever seen or nsed. Mrs. Thomas Owing*. Wlnnsboro, Fairfield county, S. C. We have bail one of the Davis Machines about four years and have always fonnd It ready to do all kinds of work we have had occasion to da Can’t see that the machine is worn any, and works as well as when new. Mrs. W. J. Crawford, Jackson’s Creek, Fairfield connty, S. C. My wife Is highly pleased with the Davis Ma chine bought of yon. She would not take doable what she gave for It. The machine has not been out of order since she had It, and she can do any kind of work on It. Very Respectfully, Jas. F. Free. Montlcello, Fairfield connty, s. C. The Davie Sewing Machine Is simply a treas ure Mrs. J. A. uoodwyn. Ridgeway, N. C., Jan, 10, 1883. J,O Boag, Esq., Agent—Dear Sir: My wife has been using a Davie Sewing Machine constant ly for the pas. four years, and It has never needed any repairs an I works just aa well as when first bought. She says It will do a greater range of practical work end do it eaaler and better than any macl.tne she has ever nsed. We cheerfully recommend It as a No. 1 family machine, Yonr tnLy, • Jas. Q. Davis. Wlnnsboro, S. C., Jan. 3,1883. Mb. Boag : I have always fonnd my Davis Ma chine ready do all kinds of to work I have had oc casion to do. I ciumol see that the machine Is worn a particle and it works aa wed as when new. Respectfully, Mbs. R. C. Gooding. Wlnnsboro, ?. C., April, 1883, Kb. Boag: My wife has been constantly uelng the Davis Machine bought of yon abont five years acc. I have never regretted buying It, as it la always ready for any kind of family aewlng, either heavy or light. It Is never out of fix or needing repairs. " Very respectfully, A. w. Ladd. Fairfield, S. C., March, 1883. “WE ONEY.” Come, wife, dear woman, and sit by me, For the toilsome day is adone, And many thoughts in my heart are horn With the setting of the sun. Ay, give me your hand my patient love, That my own may clasp it tight; Not dearer was it in the days agone, Dear wife, than it is to-night. Old and wrinkled it may be dear, But look you, wife, at the shine Of the ring that has clung to your linger there Since the day that I made yon mine. ’Tw r as a long, long march from our youth to age, But Time, be he ne’er so gray, Can never tarnish the lustre, dear, Of the pledge of our wedding day. E’en so the truth of a faithful love, Born far in the auld lang syne, In our steadfast hopes, through weal and woe, Never has ceased to shine. There are tears in your eyes, my wife, to night; You are thinking, dear, I know, How strange it is that as shadows fall, * We only are left below. We only to sit at the old hearthstone, In the twilight, dear, of life, While our children wait at the gates above— When shall we meet them, wife? Nay, dry those tears and be glad with me, That the day is almost done, And father, mother and children all May meet—with the set of sun. THE WIDOW’S TEST. •‘Sybella, you are going to do what a widow generally does when she marries a second time. Y"ou are going to make fool of yourself I Arthur Austin doesn’t love you; it’s your money he w r ants!” Thus spoke Aunt Margaret, prim and im, behind her inevitable knitting- needles. Her niece, Sybella Ruthven, a young widow, looked at her indignant ly’ “Why, auntie!” she said, “how naughty of you! And have I no charms that a lover should not be possible to me?” “But, can’t you compare this man yourself with poor, dear Reginald, who w’ould do anything to make you happy? I’d rather live on the memory of such love than take a pretence of a love like this. Why, your Arthur Austin is too selfish to love any one hut himself; and though, of course, first love stands apart and you can’t have Reginald back again, only be sensible for a moment and con trast Mr. Austin with the men you have refused—that fair-haired artist—that merry, good-hearted German, with a red mouth just made for kissing—and old Mr. Bell, who, if he was 70, worshiped me giuimu you irou upon, i tell you there’s neither sentiment nor passion in Arthur Austin. He is an extravagant fellow, and he is lazy, too! He happened to have the kind of looks you like, and so you’ve been silly enough to turn your back upon good men and held out youi arms to him.” “Oh, auntie! any one would think I did the courting!” said the little widow. “Hold out my arms, indeed!” “It’s alrthe same thing,” replied the elder lady. “Y’ou dropped into his arms like a ripe cherry when he held them out, and it’s dreadful to me to see you expecting so much, when you’ll get so little. A gay honeymoon, perhaps. After that, neglect, the pangs of jeal ousy—with good reason, too, no doubt —and bitter, life-long regret.” “Auntie, dear, I love him, “said Sy bella. “I used to say no woman could love twice, but this second affection is very strong, and as sweet as! if I were sixteen again. I trust dear Arthur thoroughly. If I had not a penny in the world I should be even dearer to him. He has often said that he wished that I had not. But I’ll not be angry with you, auntie; only I’ll test him. I’ll prove him. You shall own how gener ous he is, and how fond of me.” “I trust so,” said the old lady; “but I don’t believe it, and beside, you are already haviug your wedding dress made.” But Mrs. Ruthven, as she kissed her aunt good-night, vowed that the test should be made. “He will foigiv§ me when I tell him all,” she said. “Aunt Margaret is so good that I cannot bear she should not exactly know how good Arthur is also. Dear Arthur!” Then she ran up-stairs, and opening the locket in which she wore his por trait, kissed it a thousand times, think ing those thoughts that fill the heart of any loving woman who is a promised bride, and which are so pure and holy that while they move her she is a better woman for them. Great grief had come to Sybella when her young husband was torn from her heart, and she had been very wretched for long years; but the wound had heal ed at last, and then Arthur Austin had come into her life, suiting her so per fectly, realizing her every dream of what a man should be. Often she won* dered how it was that she should ever be so happy again. Doubt him! Ah! she would not dare to doubt him. But Aunt Margaret should be satisfied. “You are looking very grave, my dear,” said Arthur, as they sat together the next evening. “A little, perhaps,” shqrfanswered. “I have been worried about Something. I don’t know exactly how to explain it. But when banks fail, people who have their money in them must suffer, you know; and you’ve read of the failure of the Cosmopolitan Bank to-day?’' “Yes,” he said. “You had your money there?” “If I had not, would it trouble me that it should fail?” she asked. “To be sure, I have a little beside, but Aunt Margaret and old Uncle Reuben must have a home, you know, and I suppose I shall have about $200 a year over all expenses. You’ll not have a rich wife, Arthur, after all. ” He paused a moment, then answered, huskily: “It shall be my pride and pleasure to see that you want nothing, Sybella. I am almost glad you have become poor for that reason.” Then he kissed her and Sybella was happy, but ashamed of herself for put ting him to the test. “You see he is all I thought him, auntie,” she said to Mrs. Margaret, when he was gone. “I shall tell him all to-morrow.” “No,” said Mi's. Margaret, “wait a week. Promise me you’ll wait a week,, Sybella?” So Sybella waited, and Aunt Marga ret, watching, saw the signs she waited for, though this loving woman had as yet no suspicion of the truth. Four days had passed. It was a bright day, and there was to he a pleasant picnic party that after noon. Syliella and her bethrothed were among them. They were all old friends and Mrs. Ruthven was m her gayest mood, and chatted merrily with all- perbaps a little more with a shy young fellow of eighteen, who was in the com pany, than with any other, because of his youth and shyness. Arthur Austin had begun the day in his usual good spirits; but as it went on lie grew gloomier and gloomier, and at last relapsed jnto perfect silence. In vain did his betrothed endeavor to cheer him. He scarcely sjtoke or looked at her, and at last his manner began to have effect upon the whole party. One after the other grew dismal, and the return home was as solemn as a funeral procession. At Sybella’s door Austin lifted his hat coldly and bade her good evening without even a pressure of the hand. “You are coming in, Arthur?” she said, softly. “No,” he answered. “Are you ill?” At that he turned sharply upon her and said aloud: “No, I am not ill. I am not blind—that is all Nor deaf, either. I have watched and listened to-day to my cost. Good evening!” “What did he mean, aunt?” cried Sybella, when the door had closed, “What has been done? I saw nothing.” “He is pretending to be jealous of young Mordaunt,” said Aunt Margaret, quietly. “Sybella, have courage. He means to quarrel and break it off with you, now that he thinks you penniless. Tell him the truth, and he will soon re cover from his jealousy. Keep it to yourself, and you will never be able to mollify him.” And this time Sybella only sighed. But she went to her room and wrote a pretty letter to her lover, begging him to come to her, and when he came she met him with an offer of her lips, which he shocked her by rejecting. “You know how I have Iteen offended, Sybella,” he said. “You know you flirtecj with that boy Mordaunt all day!” “I did nothing of the kind! I never flirted in my life; why should I begin to do so now? No woman was ever truer than I have been to you!” n ►. “I doubt it!” said he. “I have seen rrmHi, and T suepeot more; aud, Since your conduct lias alienated my heart from you, we iiati better part. Tneie is only one way of managing these things.” Sybella looked earnestly at him. She saw no jealous madness there; only a cool deteminatiou to set aside his en gagement with a woman whom he had never loved, and whose fortune had been his only object from the first. And she knew that Aunt Margaret had been right; hut she loved him so well, and trusted him so entirely, that it seemed to her as if the knowledge would rend soul from body. She tried to bide her tears, but in vain. Slowly she drew her engagement ring from her finger and put it into his hand and turned away. At the door a strong hand grasped hers. It was Aunt Mar garet’s. She led her niece to her room, and returned to the parlor before Arthur Austin had left it. Standing before him, looking straight The old Spy-Glass. at him, she said: “So, sir, you have been tried in the furnace and found wanting! You know that my niece’s loss of fortune is at the bottom of this. Don’t prevaricate; you know it is true. I have seen through you from the first.” “It is not your affair,! belie’ e,” Ar thur answered, sulkily. ‘ Of course, when a man expects to maiTy money, he isn’t pleased to find himself saddled with a poor wife and her beggarly relations. But of course I was jealous. I’ve broken it all off with Sybella on that account , and it’s her own fault.” “She has had a lucky escape, Mr. Austin,” said Aunt Margaret; “but be fore you go, let me tell you a little se cret. Sybella has not lost her money. The bank that failed had not a penny of hers in it. And as for the beggarly relation—you mean me, you know- poor Aunt Margaret is worth her $50,- 000, and every shilling of it is to be left to her dear niece Sybella Ruthven. I warned her that you did not lovelier. I forced her against her will to put you to the test. And now I see that I was right, and you may go, Mr. Arthur Austin.” Mr. Austin departed. A month after ward he wrote a penitent letter to Sy bella, telling her that he believed him self to have been causelessly jealous, and quoting a good deal from Byron anil Shakspeare on the subject. But the woman who is fooled twice by the same individual must be a hopeless idiot, and Mrs. Ruthven will remain Mrs. Ruth ven until some better man asks her to change her name. A Strange Garment. A tall young man went bathing in the Mohawk river at Schenectady, New York, with several other Sabbath- breakers, in spite of previous protests against their selection of such a con spicuous place for their ablutions. While they were in the water a Mr. Yan Yoast appeared upon the bank and carried off an armful of their clothing. All of the bathers, however, had enough apparel left to get home without undue exposure except the tall young man, whose only remaining rai ment was a collar and a pair of shoes. But as luck would have it, he found near the river an empty barrel, out of which he knocked the heads and into which he stepped, and thus appareled he made his way home across the fields, painfully holding up the barrel as he walked, but dropping and sinking into it whenever anyone appeared in sight. Before he reached^the paternal man sion half the dogs in town had detected his predictment and united to form a howling escort. —A million and a half shad are to be put in Kentucky waters. Uncle Silas had a rickety, old-fash ioned spy-glass that he kept in a sail- loft on the end of a decaying w'harf, where he stored the spars and sails of his boats in winter-time. The loft was warmed by a rusty, dnim-shaited, sheet- iron stove. There were no chairs in it, only one or two benches. Uucle generally sat on the floor when he was patching the sails. For a thimble he used what sailors call a palm, which is a leathern band, with a central piece of steel punctured like a thimble. With this he pressed the large spike-like ueedle through the heavy v canvas. There was always a number »jf old hea-captains or fishermen or sea-loving lads whiling away the time in Uncle Si’s sail-Wt. telling their experience or listening to boat down to pick her up; until I see a shark’s fin not more’n a cable’s length away. This settled me; ’twa'n’t in human natur’ to stand by and see a poor innocent creeturlike that eaten up by them bloody monsters. “I just cast off the coil of the main- brace from the belayin’-pin, and, bold ing the end in my hand, went over- board. I dove close to the child, and caught her by the hair just as she was goin’ down. Then I took her under the arms, and, holding on to the brace, called to them to haul in. The shark was mighty nigh bv this time, and as I drew my leet out of the water, he shot right under me and bruisfcd my foot with his fin. “Capt Luce didn’t say nothing when be got his child alxtard, but he was just like one dazed. His wife took him -— — — ~—X | . ——. .» w stories of the sea. Or they would talk | -jcIow, and that night he was lyin’ in about their favorite ships, or look out of a small square-shaped window, shaped like a port-hole, at the vessels gliding into the harbor. They often used the old rickety spy glass, which threatened to fall to pieces every time it was taken up; but the glass was Uncle Si’s especial delight. He prized it as the apple of his eye. To say anything against that spy-glass w'as to start him into a long discussion, which went to show that he was behind the times. For he always insisted that all the improvements of later science had failed to make any improve ments in telescopes that would eclipse his cherished old telescope. But nothing would induce him to tell how the glass came into his possession. We knew that he had had many advent ures, like every man who has ever been to sea. and surmised that there was something peculiar attending his right to the old spy-glass, although uo one who knew Uncle Si ever suspected that there was anything discreditable to him in having it. But, one day, it happened that the death was reported, in the sail-loft, of a well-known shimpaster, Capt. Luce. “Is Capt. Luce dead, then?”-ex claimed Uncle Si. “Well, that reminds me that he knew tvs much about that spy-glass as I do.” Every one at once gave attention, for we seemed on the eve of learning the story of the old telescope. “Not that it’s so much of a yarn, either,” said the old skipper; “but I just remember the v’yage 1 took with him, some 25 years ago last August. I shipped before the mast, for Calcutta, in the ship Skimmer of the Seas. Luce was master, and he had his wife and little girl with him. He knew his biz- ness, it’s a fact, but be made us toe the “We had a good run out to Calcutta, and nothing special to note. But ou the way home we met a hurricane near Mauritius. The ship behaved well, but the gale carried away some of the light spars. “A few days after this we sighted a wreck and bore down to see if she had beeu abandoned. The wind was. mo derate, and so a boat was sent off to her. We found she was a French ship. There wasn’t a living soul ou board. The crew had all left her in the boats, you see, except one poor fellow who lay dead just inside the companion-way. We didn’t dare to stay loug, for the bark w r as wallowing deep in the sea aud went down just after we left her. But we bnuught away with us a box of tea aud this ’ere spy-glass. After this we had calms until the tar all came out of the seams of our ship and the captaiu’s temper gave out. The heat and the terrible long calm kinder made him crazy, I think. You couldn’t wink but what he’d be at you. Now it was the man at the wheel he abused; then he’d heave belayiu’ pins at the lookout, or he’d kick the steward. ’Twas only when his child Ella—he called her Birdie—was around that he was quiet. He loved her, and when he began to swear and cuss, Mrs. Duce would send the little girl to him, and he’d stop right off and take her in his arms and wind her curls around his fingers. “One day it was my turn at the wheel. The captain was aft fooling with the glass we’d got from the Frenchman. He took it all to pieces and wiped it clean and talked about it to himself. This is the glass to use,’ said he, in mutterring voice. ‘I never see the like on it. Guess I can scare up a breeze with such a weapon ’ “Just then the ship gave a lurch. She was onsteady-like, you see, bein’ as it was a dead calm and a lump of a swell a-heaving up from the south’ard bring ing a wind with it. This threw one of the lenses in the glass on the deck, and it went a-rollin’ toward the scupper, but it lodged iu the waterways. The captain got up and looked at me. His face was as white as a sheet he was so mad. His eyes glared like a demon’s. He walked up to me with his teeth clenched. Then he up with his fist and made a blow at my head, saying — •‘Where did you larn to steer, you confounded son of a land-lubber?’ 1 jest dodged the blow, and he fetched another clip at me. “ ‘Capt, Luce,’ says I, ‘I’m a-doin’ the best I can. It’s this swell tliat did it. I can’t steer without nao a breeze. ’ “‘Yes, you can, you lubber 1 You did it apurpose! I’m a good mind to. make shark’s meat of you!’ his bunk with a fever and ravin’ for his child. Tne mate took charge of the ship. A breeze sprung up that night, we were close to Cape Town and we put in there for a doctor. We lay there two w r eeks afore Capt Luce was himself again. He was like ano ther man the rest of the voyage, peace able-like and meek as a Quaker. “After we’d got to Boston and laid the ship up by Long wharf, and I was a-goin’ ashore, he called me to come aft. His child w as sittin’ on his knee and playin’ with his watch. “ ‘Bill,’ said he, ‘I aint said nothin’ to you about how you risked your Lfe for my child, but I aint one of them folks who forget such a thing as that. 1 want to do the right thing by you, although I could never pay back the great debt I owe to you. What can I do for you?” “ ‘Capt Luce,’ says I, ‘you don’t need to worry yourself about it. I ditl my duty, and I’d do it again for such a trim little gal as that.’ “ ‘No,’ says he, T aint satisfied to leave it that way.’ “ ‘Well,” says I, ‘if it’lj make you feel better, then 1 don’t mind if you let me have the glass we got out of the French bark. It’ll serve to make me remember little Ella.’ “ ‘It’s yourn,’ says he.” “And so, lads, that’s the way 1 came to have that’ere spy-glass. ” A lieH-Klnglng Hoy. “I would like to ring that bell, won’t you let me ring that bell ? Say, That I’ll give ring that shark 1 :ou’d “‘YflU’d better take carel’ says I, speaking up smart, for there was blood in his eye, and we’d stood this sort of bullying long enough “ ‘ You dare to sass me, do you?’ said he. ‘i’ll teach you to mutiny on board my ship?’ and he made a movement as if he was going to draw the revolver out of his pocket. “I let go of the wheel and was just a-goin’ at him with both hands—I didn’t want to draw my knife—when 1 heard the wild scream. We both stopped and looked around. Mrs. Luce was a-fiyin’ up the companion-way, a-shriekin’ and a-cryin,’ ‘My child! Oh, my child! She’s overboard 1’ ‘T looked over the side of the ship. I saw the little thing under the lee quarter, a-struggling and a-holding out her hands. We all loved the little creetur, although she was the child of that old sea tyrant. But I didn't think much of her bein’ in the water, for ’twas smooth and we’d soon have a must be a fine-sounding bell you fifty cents if you let me bell.” The speaker was a mild-eyed young fellow with an innocent look upon his faro that inspired confidence at the first sight. He was a Boston boy and was in Waterloo. Camuin with nnlw fiftv cents m Ins pocket. He hadn’t had any breakfast or dinner, and when he offered Charley Hall, the proprietor of the hotel, fifty cents for the privilege of ringing the huge dinner-bell that set in the office, he was playing for a stake. Charley gave the youth a casual glance, “sized him up” as a “fresh,” aud then told him he could ring the bell as long as he wished to for fifty cents. The young man laid down his last fifty cents, seized the bell and began Ui vigorous ringing. As it happened to be about the din ner hour, the proprietor thought this a good joke. In through the parlors, out upon the veranda and even up into the chambers sounded the clang of the bell. The guests soon became annoyed and then exasperated. “What in thunder have you got that bell ringing for?” asked one. “Tie a rope to tliat calf and haul him in,” said another. “If you don’t put a stop to that confounded nuisance we’ll quit your house,” said a third. The landlord, thoroughly bewildered, both by the ringing of the bell and the complaints of the guests, went out to the fellow and said: “Come, haven’t you rung that bell about long enough ? The guests are all complaining about it.” “Rung it long enough? Bless your soul, I haven’t hardly begun yet. What do you suppose I paid you the last fifty cents tnat 1 had in the world for? Jxmg enough? Pshaw! You must be crazy, man. Just listen to that bell. Ain’t that a splendid sounding bell ? What a magnificent bell! man, aud then think how you could ask me to stop ringing that bell. I’d rather ring this bell than eat my dinner. Don’t keep botheri ng me: let me attend to Oils bell.” By this time the attention of the town officers was attracted to the matter, and the landlord was told he must discon tinue the ringing of the bell. • ‘Condemn it. ” said the now thorough ly exasperated landlord, “I’m not ring ing the bell.” “Well, you must stop it, no matter who it is that’s ringing it.” To the bell-ringer again went the an noyed landlord and repeated his re quest, this time a little more severe. “I want you to let up on this business. You have made noise enough, and I think its time to stop. Do you want to alarm the whole country?” “Just listen to that bell; ain’t that a daisy bell? That’s the best bell I think I ever heard. Where did you get this bell. What an exceptionally fine sound ing bell. What will you take for that bell?” “The question ain’t what I’ll take for the bell, but what you’ll take to let up,” said the excited landlord. “Well, I don’t know that I care to stop, but ain’t that a tine sounding bell —if it’s all the same to you about $10, I think would be about right.” “I won’t give you $10, but I’ll tell you what I will do; I’ll give you $5 and the best dinner you ever had if you’ll stop right where you are.” “Agreed; let’sliaveyour$5. Thanks. Now we’ll go into dinner,” and in a few minutes the ravenous youth from the “Hub” was putting away roast beef and chicken salad at a marvelously rapid rate. —Lord and Lady Onslow are about to leave England on a lengthened tour through Canada and the United States. —Sir Frederick Leighton’s style of speaking, like his style of painting, is elaborate. He is graceful, courtly and complimentary. High-Priced Brides. “A New York fashionable wedding is a very expensive thing,’’said a promi nent New Y r ork caterer of Fifteenth street to a journalier. “Of course,” said the reporter, “the bride’s clothes cost a great deal, and perhaps the groom has to pay the minis ter a large sum, but do the other ex- jienses amount to much ?” “The bride’s outfit is something I don’t know anything about. If a wed ding is coming off, the bride’s father or mother or uncle or somebody comes to me and says: ‘I am going to have a wedding and I want you to furnish for it.’ ‘All right,’I say, ‘how many guests?’ ‘Well, about three hundred to the re ception. ’ Then I set to work to calcu late what kind of a table they want.” “How much per guest,” interrupted the reporter, “doest it take for a very nice wedding collation ?” •‘Well, I can set a very pretty table for $1.50 per head. That will include ices, bouillion, cake, wine, jellies, bon bons, several kinds of salads, sand wiches, flowers, china, waiters and all.” “What else beside the above menu would jieople want ?’ “O! many things. Champagne, oysters, a spiced fish which cost $20— more, if he is a nice fellow; cold meats, etc. These are all expensive tilings, and of course we have to charge for them.” “Do you include the wedding cake in the $1 50 estimate ?” “Not generally. You see it costs us about twenty cents for each box full. The box costs a few cents, the white satin ribbon that ties it about eight cents, and the cake about ten cquts. Each box costs the person who orders it aliout thirty-five cents, which just multiplied by 300 cents, comes to $105. You can always tell a swell wedding by the cake that’s served to you.” “How do you go about serving a wedding collation ?” “I send my head man to inspect the dining-room and kitchen. Then the dishes and silver are sent, the kitchen being given entirely into the hands of my men. They set the table, mix the salads, turn out the ices, etc., and just before the guests come I go over and see if everything is going smoothly. Some caterers take everything left over away with them. It is a bad thing to do. The family like the remains of the feast so much, and it is really of no use to the caterer, except for the wai ters.” As the reporter left the caterer’s he encountered Johnson. Johnson is a young and rather good-looking man. He takes charge of the carriages and the admittance of guests at every fash ionable affair. He is to be seen stand- atVfucVi'tlie balY or"we<Ycling e iS n 'ic2'ur- ringj and calls the •numbers of the carnages, helps the ladies out, keeps rogues away, and knows everybody. “Why,” said a young lady to a journalist, “there is never the least danger of any one but those we desire getting into a house aa long as Johnson is around. You can trust him entirely. And everyone is sure to get their own carriage, too. He is worth his $100 or $200 a night, and besides he often has men to assist him.” “Flowers,” said a florist to the re porter, “cost money. But there are several ways of decorating a house. I can make pretty decorations for $75 or $100, and I can make decorations for $500. From $100 to $200 Is the general layout, however. That will include the church also. You see we place the palms, ferns and growing plants about the chancel, but we take them all back again. But a wedding hell, a horn of plenty and baskets of flowers cost the money. “What are the other expenses of wed dings besides the flowers and the sup- jier ?” he was asked. “There are the carriages at $2 to $5 apiece. The bride’s family order about four besides their own; and there are the awnings at the house and church, at $15 apiece, and about $25 to the sex ton and $10 for the use of the church, and then there are the invitations—a big bill in themselves. People send cards to hundreds they do not invite. Take for instance Mrs. Vanderbilt’s ball; She invited 1,200 people. For invitations, directing and delivery, it cost her over $000. Now, let us figure up. For the breakfast—$150 a head for 300 people, $4 50; flowers, $200; wedding cake, $105; awnings $.‘K); John son $100; carriages, $10; clothes, $300; in all, $1,195. I think I’ll just get married and go without the wedding.” Sale of Furniture on Notes. V. bought from F. furniture, and paid for it in other furniture and notes, and there was an agreement that “if the notes are not paid F. cau retake The Hero of Chippewa. V. £ On the 28th of this month, June, the home of Samuel Smith, the “hero of Chippewa,” will be sold at auction, the last member of his family. Miss Min nie, having died a few months ago. The act of daring that won for the brave Canadian his tiile was performed one winter several years since. A scow containing four men broke loose and started down stream for Niagara Falls at a terrific rate. Smith saw the scow as it approached Chippewa. He sprang Into a clinker boat at once. As he forged out into the stream he made a hasty survey of the situation and then plied the white ash with redoubled energy. As he sped along, the l>oat almost leaping from the water at eatfh stroke, a cheer arose from the people on the shore that fairly rent the air. The moment Smith appeared the atten tion of the men on the scow was rive ted upon him and his frail craft. On and on he shot, each stroke narrowing the distance lietween him and the scow, but the latter was getting alarm- ngly close to the rapids, to enter which was certain destruction to all on hoard. As he neared the scow he turned his head and shouted to the men: “Scatter along the side of the boat and drop in as I pass by.” The command was promptly obeyed and the little craft was alongside. One after another the men sprang in, until the four were safely in the bottom. Now came a moment of painful anxiety. “What will he do?” was the query that came to every mind. Smith had his plan of action and never hesita ted a moment. At a point some dis tance from the Canada shore the cur rent divided at the head of the rapids, part of the stream flowing around an island in the vicinity of the burnt spring. In reacning the current lead ing around the island lay the only hope of escajie. Taking a diagonal course across and down the stream Smith bent every effort to reach the Canadian divide. It was a desperate struggle for the life of five men between the seething, boiling waters and the muscle and endurance of young Smith, with the odds seemingly against him. But the divide was finally gained with not a boat’s length to spare, and the frail craft shot down between the island and the mainland like a rocket. At the foot of the island the channel widened materially, the current slack- ened aud the water became more shal low. and here young Smith landed his boat, having performed one of the most heroic and daring feats ever per formed by mortal man. The. stepping ashore of the men was the signal for another cheer that for a Hfteraffy home upon the shoulders of the excited people. InvaHlun of the Holy Luiut. the furniture again not paid, and F. went ” The notes were to V.’s house The latest proposition is to build a maritime canal through "Palestine, and an English company, with the Duke of Marlborough at its head, has been form ed for the purpose of making investiga tions and preliminary surveys. So far as at present proposed, the work will include, in the first instance, a canal twenty-five miles iu length, from Haifa, in the Bay of Acre, through the plain of Asdraclou to the valley of the river Jordan. The depth of the proposed canal is to be forty feet and its width 200 feet. This will bring the Mediter ranean into the heart of Palestine, and go far towards making a seaport of Jerusalem. It is further proposed to construct a canal twenty miles in length from the head of the Gulf of Akaboah to the Dead Sea, and thus unite the waters of the latter with the Red Sea. If these things were successfully per formed it is expected that an inland sea about 300 miles long, varying in width from three to ten miles, and deep enough to fioat vessels of the largest size, would extend from the Mediterranean to the Red Sea. There are some matters be sides engineering difficulties which may hinder the execution of this project. The consent of the Porters indispen- sable, and certain European powers would undoubtedly oppose the granting of a firman conferring upon England the exclusive right of way by water through Palestine. The holy land also has sacred associations for Christians throughout the world, and a widespread sentiment among all churches and sects would doubtless be raised in opposition to the innovation. It is possible that the new enterprise may be proved to the satisfaction of many devout men and women to be the fulfilment of the prophecy of Ezekiel, to the effect that there is to be a broad sea in the desert, and that “the fishers shall stand upon it from En-dedi even unto En-eglaim.” What a Farmer Needs. with several men, in the absence of Y., and, in opposition to the wishes of the other members of the family, carried the furniture away. V. sued for da mages and recovered a judgment. F. appealed the case—Van Wren vs. Flynn —to the Supreme Court of Louisiana, where the judgment was affirmed. Judge Fenner, in the opinion, said: “The acts complained of, unless the agreement removed the parties from the application of the general princi ples of law, constituted a gross outrage upon the rights and feelings of the plain tiff as a citizeu and a man, for which Courts of justice must grant redress or sanction the personal exaction of satis faction by violence. The agreement cannot, in our opinion, shield the de fendant. It does not purport, in terms, to confer upon the defendant the right to enter the house of the plaintiff, in his absence, without his cousent and without notice, and carry off its con tents. The grant of the simple right to retake his furniture on non-payment of the price cannot be construed to em brace such power. It conferred, at most, a kgal right upon defendant, which. liMother rights, could be en forced oin|r with the consent of the plaintiff ot by' legal process; and we doubt, under the evidence here, whe ther any Court would have awarded possession to F. without requiring an tecedent tender dr payment of that part of the price which had been paid,” A farmer needs his vacation just as much as any man of business needs one. A week’s run to town after the busy sea son is over will do him a world of good. And they need to visit other farmers, to learn, if possible, easier or better methods of farming or of living. They need to attend farmers’ conventions and organizations to gam new ideas—some thing to broaden or enlarge their views of life. People who always stay at home are sure to seek dark sides and shadows of their own lives. They need to learn and to realize that storms and droughts and thunders and showers and treahets visit other farms beside their own; that weeds and insects thrive in all degrees of longitude; that flies and dirt accumu late and annoy other households beside the ones that they preside over. In short, they need to learn how other people live. Could farmers manage so as to be con fined less to their farms, could they work more in partnership, as do men in other business, or could they believe it profit able to employ a higher grade of labor ers—men whom they could trust alone for a day or week, or could they earlier train their sons and daughters to have a care and an interest m the affairs of the household, then they could ofteuer find the opportunity for leaving the farm for a short season of recreation and enjoy ment, and thus be in reality what they have the name of being, the most inde- [ pendent class of people in the world. m #3 4 V MUMr - ern-