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TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBORO. S. 0.. AUGUST 23. 1883. ESTABLISHED 1848 THE VERDICT —or— THE PEOPLE BUY THE BEST! Mr. J.O. BOAO-Dear Sir: I bought the first Davis Machine sold by you over five years ago tor my wife, who has given It a long and (air trial. I am well pleased with It. It never Rives any rouble, aud Is as good as when first bought. J. W. HOUCK. Wlnnaboro, S. C., April 1833. Mr. Boaq: ton wish to know what I have to say In regard to the Davis Machine bought of you three f ears ago. I feel i can’t say too much in its favor, made about S80,iK> within five monttis, at times running it so fast that the needle would get per fectly hot from (notion. I feel confident I could not ha' hot from (notion. I feel confident 1 could ve done the name- 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. Kespectfully, Ellen Stevenson, Fairfield County, April, 1883. Mr. Boaq : My mschiue 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. Mas. R. Millino. Fairfield county, Apr!', 1883. BOOM ENOUGH FOB ALL. Mr. Boau: I bought a Davis vertical Feed ew.ng Machine from yon four years ago, I am slighted with It. It never has given me any rouble, and has never been the least out of order. It is as good as when I Urst bought it. I can cheerfully recommend It. Respectfully, Mm-, 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 lyears, purchased of Mr. J. u. Hoag. 1 haven’t found it p Msessed of any fault—all the attachments are so simple. It nevenefuset to wont, aud is certainly th? lightest running In the market. 1 consider It a first class machine. Very respectfully, Minnie M. Oakland, Fairfield county, S. C. WiLLINUttAM. Mr Boau : i am wen pieaseii in every particm with the Davis Machine nought of you. I think a flrsi-clas, machine tu every respect. Yon knsw you sold several machines of tne same make to difierent members of our families, all of whom, as far aa I know, are well pleased with tbem. Kespectfully, Mrs. M. U. Moblet. Fairfield county, April, 1883. This Isto certlty we have hal in constant usa the Davis Machine bought of you about three years ago. As we take In work, and have made the pilceof It several times over, we don’t want any better machine. It is always ready to do any kind of work we nave to do. No puckering or skipping stitches. We can only say we are well pleased and wish no better machine, CATHERINE WTLIE AND SISTER. April 85,1888, I have no fault to find with my mach ne, and don’t want any better. I have mule the price of U several times by taking la sewing. It Is always ready to do lu work. I think It a first-class ma chine. I feel I can t say too much for the Davis Vertical Feed Machine. Mrs. Thomas Smith. Fairfield county, April, 1833. Mr. J. O. Boau—Dear Sir: .It gives me mich pleasure to testify to tue merits of the Davis Ver tical Feed Sewing Machine. The machine I got of you about five years ago. has been almost lu con stant use ever since that time. I cannot see that it Is worn any, and has not cost me one cent for repairs since we have had it. Am well pleased and don’t wish tor any better. Yours tru’y, robt. 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 ns onboandeu satisfaction. Very respectfully, Mrs. W. K. Turner and Daughters] Fairfield county, S. C„ Jan. 31,1883. 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 every respect as a family machine, both for heavy and light sewing, and never needed tns 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 of 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 Vertloal Feed than any other ma chine I have ever seen or used. Mrs. Thomas owinos. Wlnnsboro, Fairfield county, 8. C. Don’t crowd and push in the march of life, Or tread on each others’s toes, For the world at best, in its great unrest, Is hard enough as it goes. Oh, why should the strong oppress the wea^ Ua tt aj oaavruasa uaavj ouavrAAg Opj)F( Till the latter go to the wall? ours, with Us thorns and g' On this earth of flowers, There is room enough for all. If a lagging brother falls behind And drops from the toiling band, If fear and doubt put his soul to rout, . Then lend him a helping hand. Cheer up his heart , ith vs ords of hope, Nor reason the speech with gall; In the great highway, on the busiest day, There’s room enough for all. If a man with the tread of a pioneer Bteps out on your track ahead, Don’t grudge his start with an envious heart, For the mightiest once were led. But gird your loins for the coming day— Let nothing your heart appall— Catch up if you can with the forward man, There is room enough for all. And if, by doing your duty well, You should get to lead the van. Brand not your name with a deed of shame, But come out an honest man. Keep a bright look out on every side, Till heeding the Master's call, Your soul should go, from the world below, Where there’s room enough for all. We have had one of the Davis Machines about four yean and have always found it ready to do all kinda of won we have had occasion to da Can’t aee tnat the machine is worn any, and works as well aa when new. Mas. W. J. Crawford, Jackson’s Creek, Fairfield ooamy, 8. C. My wife Is highly pleased with the Davis Ma chine bought of yon. She would not take doable wnat sue 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 county, 8. C. The Davis Sewing Machine U almplv ■ treas ure Mrs. J. A. uoodwtn. Ridgeway, N. C., Jan. 10. 1883. J.O Boau, Agent—Dear Sir: My wife has been using a Davla'Uewiag Machine cuostant- . . — lt ly for the paat four years, and It has never needed any repairs an i worka Just aa well as when first bought. She says U will do a greater range of practical work and do it easier and befer than any machine she has ever used. We cheerfully recommend U as a Na 1 family machine, Your tnuy, ' • Jas. Q - . Davis. Wlnnsboro, S. C., Jan. 8, 1888. Mr. Boao : I have always found my Davis Ma chine ready do all kinds of to work I have had oc casion to do. I cannot see that the machine la worn a particle and It works ss wed aa when new. Respectfully, Mrs. K. C. uoodino. Wlnnsboro, 8. c., April, 1888, Mr. Boao : My wife has been constantly using i bought of yon about five years : My w the Davit Machine ago. I have never regretted buyir, always ready for any kind of family sewing, either neavy or light. It Is never oat of fix or needing repairs. Very respectfully, A. vs. Ladd. Fairfield, A C., March, 1888. TOO LATE. How do you like her, Mac?” Young Dr. Mac James looked up at his cousin a second before answer ing ‘‘My dear, if she were worth ten thousand, I would marry her to-mor row. She is a girl that ten years from now will i-iake a mark, and will do mnor even to a Mac James.” His cousin, fair golden-haired Carrie, was silent, and outside the door in the mil Miriam had come, all unhearod in icr slippered feet, but not unhearing, and stood silent also. She was not vain, so felt a strange delight in this man’s words, cruel and heartless as they were. But she was proud and sensitive, and her eyes flushed, and something of he superb jiower that the heartless ilacJames prophesied for her ten years :ience, thrilled her as she stood there. Then she shivered as she thought iow easily she could have been won by ;his handsome, careless man had she icen wealthy. Won, but, alas! not loved. She crept quietly away, wondering if she could ever be anything to be proud of, anything but a poor, badly-paid school-teacher. “I’m thirty to-day. “Once I should :iave thought myself old at this age, with the best of life past, and little be fore me to enjoy. “But now I am very happy, thankful, and content.” Miriam Koscoe was looking across ;he blue sea waters, her hands resting upon the railing of the balcony, her calm, sweet face grave and thought ful. The people on the beach below looked up at her, and marvelled at so much beauty. Every passer-by took a second gaze at Miriam Roscoe. “ Who is she?” asked William Mac James of his friend, Jack Herbert. “Miss Roscot.” “Is that all there is to say of her?” “No. I might talk all day of her, and you would be just as little ac- quailed.” “What is this mystery about her? You have not been quarreling with her?” “No, we are good friend v. I knew ; tour questions were prompted by mere die curiosity, so I thought it better to wait until you met her.” “But who is she?” “A lady who has won a fair fame and unexpectedly inherited consider able wealth. She has met trouble and sorrow that would have crushed a woman less brave and now from it all she brings a nature so thoroughly pure, that men are made better for bel li ving.” “She is wealthy and famous, you say, and yet unmarried?” “Yes, Mac, even an old maid, if you like. “But no one ever th.nks of that.” Jack Herbert frowned, and there was a ring of grave displeasure in his usu ally sweet, strong voice. This question angered him, even when coming from a friend. Dr. MacJames at his side, handsome, fascinating, and worldly - minded, turned again to look at the white-robed figure, whose appearance in Newport had caused so much fluttering among the butterflies of fashion. An hour later, as the two friends re turned from their stroll, they saw Miss Roscoe tightening the reins over her high-stepping horses. “By Jovel those are magnificent ani mals!” exclaimed Dr. MacJames. “Yes, and she handles them perfect' ly, too.” And Herbert’s dark eyes flashed, and a wonderful light swept over his face with the smile and bow he gave Miss Roscoe, while she gave a glance at both, but a smile to only one, as she dashed by. The fastidious man of fashion was smitten. That evening, at a party Jack Her bert introduced her to hi& friend. She rose,' smiling graciously, thorough lady, with no pretence o:' girlishness. Her eyes were clear, brave, and ten der, ber face - one that changed with every thought, but was very pure aud. true. The. season was nearly over before Dr. MacJames could summmon suffi cient courage to meet his fate. One night Miss Roscoe was standing on the balcony listening to the ever beautiful music of the ocean’s roar, when Dr. MacJames found her there looking, he said, like the picture of a saint. “Did you come to escape the crowd? he asked. “No. “Had the crowd been here, ' should have stayed. “1 love the sea so ’ much.” I “But you neglect the pleasures of the dance.” : “I never dance,” she answered, “and 1 o no pleasures are missed.” “I missed you, and searched until 1 found you here—dreaming.” “Yes, dreaming—or rather, perhaps, thinking of your past life.” “Your past, like the glorious pres ent, must oe good to remember.” “1 was only thinking of the starting point. “Shall we return?” “Not unless you wish it, Miss Ros coe, for I have wanted to see you alone, but have not been able to. “You must know what it is I have to tell you, for uo man can be in the sunshine of your presence without loving you. “Oh, Miriam, I love youl Nay, love is too cold a word to express my feel ings. Will you be my wife, Miriam?” Dr. MacJames was pale with the great passion which had thrilled his soul. His eyes were burning and bright as they searched her face for one tender ook, and his hand, which had taken hers, closed over it with a flerce, over mastering grasp. She was looking away across the sea. Presently she turned and faced him. Then, in the coldest tones, she asked— Is it myself, or my money, that you would marry?” All the scorn and subdued feelings of twelve years rang out in that clear, cold, but proud voice. “Yourself! What care I for wealth? Come to me penniless. 1 have wealth enough for both, or I will work f »r you. “Only tell me you will be mine.” Wait, Doctor MacJames, until I re- »eat your words of twelve years ago. set me show you how well I can re member. “You said of Miriam Roscoe, the poor friendless school-teacher, “If she were worth ten thousand, I would marry her to-morrow!” “I am worth lour times that now, and you come say ing that you love me. “Had you said so then, the poor girl would have be lieved you, and Miriam Roscoe would mve been your wife. “But—hear me— am glad you did not say it, for when crept away, after hearing your cut- ng words to my friend—your cousin Carrie—I determined to be ‘worthy a MacJames.’ “Years ago, I should have ' nought your offer made to-night to be tie best in the world. “Now I can on- y say that I am sorry if you suffer through caring for me.” The sweet voice was silent; the waves moaned and sobbed like some doomed lost soul. “Is there no hope?” he asked. “None.” “Oh, Miriam, can you not forgive my youthful, foolish aud merceuary words? Miriam, let me live for you, and prove my love by that!” Her face turned white as his, and a look of pain came to her grave eyes. Then softly, with a world of tender ness in lier tone— ‘I can give you no hope, for I am engaged to marry Mr. Herbert. We have loved each other fora long time.” A grasp for breath, and the strong ! )r. MacJames had fainted. The love of bis life had come too ate. Jack Herbert led Miriam away from the balcony, thinking that his friend would recover quicker if he did not awake to see the one he loved so inten sely. Herbert and Miriam were married quietly the following day, and, as at i rst, they still continue to walk in the glory of perfect love. A PsRail’s Blfe. A Real Nice Girl. emperor of it power; yet ly life, humbly duty in his im- of eleven he and plain life ■spare diet and •uhr says: “If m virtue it is it he was “as Marcus Aurelius Rome, intrusted with he lived a singularly ' and patiently doing hi^ perial state. * At the assumed the coarse di of the Stoics, adopting! scorning luxury. Nu there is any sublime hi his.” Lecky says tfi uearly a perfectly virldous man as has ever appeared upon oui world.” There is a little book—a sort tof diaiy—which Marcus Aurelius kept, in which he jott ed down, in severely simple style, his thoughts from day to day. His out ward life, as emperor, soldier, citizen, husband, father, was blameless; but it was his inward or spiritual life revealed iu these “meditation^ft^jRt makes him so remarkable. He tiPeveulhat there is a “divinity” in mail, a something that calls him to holiness for its own sake. He carried path/see, gentleness and forgiveness of eneuMes to the ut most limit. While lie was away from Rome, defending its frontiers against the barbarians, and camping amid the malarious marshes of the Danube, he found time at night, when the camp was still, to set down sur.h thoughts as these: “Begin the morning by saying to tbyself, T shall meet with the busy body, the ungrateful, arrogant, deceit ful, envious, unsocial. A11 these things happen to them by reason of their ig norance of what is good and evil. But I, who have seen the nature of the good that it is beautiful, aud of the bad tliat it is ugly, and the uature of him who does wrong that it is akin to me, not only of the same blood or seed, but tliat it participates in the sartie intelligence aud the same portion of ine divinity, I can neither be injured by any of them, nor can I be angry with my kinsman nor hate him. ” There is a vast depth of spiritual beauty here, if one will pon der it well; aud yet this man rejected Christianity, and, actuated by his sense of duty to pagan Rome, persecuted Christians. Again he writes: “Since it is possible that you may dejiart from life this very moment regulate every act and thought accordingly; but to go away from among men, if there be gods, is not a thing to be afraid of, for gods will not involve thee in evil. But if, indeed, the gods do not exist, or if they have no concern about human af fairs, what is it tame to live in a world devoid of gods or devoid of provideuce?” At another time he says: “ Wliat, then, is tliat which is able to conduct a man? One thing, aud only one—pliilosophy. But thistonsists iu keeping the divin ity within a man free from violence aud unharmed, superior to pains and plea sures, doing nothing without a purpose, nor yet falsely and with hypocrisy, and waiting for death with acheerfulmind, that being nothing Uu^-v A dissolution of the elements of which every human being is compounded.” It would be easy to multiply quotations, showing the purity aud serenity of this pagan soul, its loftv ideals of duty, and its faith iu the divinity within the human soul, even while it "doubts the existence of the gods or the life beyond the grave, But it may be seen that what he calls philosophy is wliat other men have called by the higher name of faith. The “divinity within us” is a thing'to be felt, but whose existence cauuot be proven. Shaving by I’lecemMl. That’. Mel He drove a policeman into a doorway on Woodbridge street, Detroit, and began: “About two horns ago a cadaverous wooden-head might have been seen gawping at the river from the foot of Randolph street. He didn’t know enough to chew gum. That was me.” “You, eh? Well?” “Well, he gawped and gawped, and he knew he had $20 in his pocket, and he chuckled and tickled and said he had come to town to' look around and see things and go home and be a lion. That was me again.” “I see.” “He jest fairly ached to have a bunko man come up and slap him on the back A Truly Strange Coincidence. The Sorrow* of Sea Lion*. “Speaking of strange coincidences,’ said Doothicker, “1 am reminded of a thing thut happened to me once. I was standing on the breakwater here in Chi cago one day in the snmmer of 1842, hen oue of my cuffs droppad off into the lake and a big fish came up and swallowed it. I mourned a good deal over it, because the sleeve-button in that cuff was made of gold that I dug myself in Caliiornia in 1849. Well, time ran along and I forgot all about the sleeve-bntton. Soon after that I had the tronble with my hair, and had to doctor for that.” “What trouble was that, paw?” asked Throphilus. Why, didn’t I ever tell you about and call him Josepheus Basswood, and *ha»* Well, yon see 1 found ont that I Ww pa and ma and the childfen all was losing my hair. It didn’t come out I saw a girl come into a street car the other day, though, who had, I was ready to bet, made her own dress, and iow nice she did look. She was one of hose clean, trim girls you see uow and hen. She was about 18 years old, and » begin with, looked well-fed, healthy and strong. She looked as though she lad a good sensible mother at home. Her face and neck and ears and her lair were clean — absolutely clean. How seldem you see that. There was no powder, no paint on the smooth, rounded cheek or firm dimpled chin; none on the moist red lips; none on the shell-tinted, but not too small ears; none on the handsomely set neck— rather broad behind, perhaps, but run ning mighty prettily up into the tightly corded hair. And the hair! It was ol' light chestnut brown and glistened with specks of gold as the sun shone on it, and there was not a smear of oil or pomatum or cosmetic on it; there was not a spear astray about it, and not a pin to be seen in it. As the girl came in and took her seat, she cast an easy, unembarrassed glance around the car, from a weir opened gray eye, bright with the inimitable light of “good con dition,” such as you see in some hand some young athletes who are “in train ing.” There w r ere no tags and ends, fringes, furbelows or fluttering ribbons about her closely fitting but easy suit of tweed, and, as she drew off one glove to look in her purse for a small coin for fare, I noticed that the gloves were not new, but neither were they old; they were simply well kept, like the owner and their owner’s hand, which was a solid hand, with plenty of muscles between the tendons and with strong but supple fingers. It would have looked equally pretty fashioning a pie in a home kitchen or folding a band age in a hospitable. It was a hand that suggested at the same time wo manliness and work, and 1 was sorry when it found a five-cent piece and had been regloved. One foot was thrust out a little upon the slats of the car floor*—a foot in a good walking boot that might have plashed through a rain storm without fear of damp stockings —and an eminently sensible boot on a two and one-half foot with a high in step, a small round heel, and a pretty broad tread. The girl was a picture from head to foot as she sat erect, dis daining the support of the back of the seat, but devoid of all appearance of stiffness. Perhaps the whole outfit to be seen, from hat to boots, did not cost $40; but I have seen plenty of outfits costing more than ten times or even twenty times that, which did not look one-tenth or even one-twentieth as welL If our girls only knew the beauty of mere simplicity, cleanliness and health, and their fascination! got along. He itched to have a three- card monte man tickle him under the chin and call him a red fox from Iona County, and open up his little game. His bones all screamed out for the man with the bogus gold pieces, and he drew down his left eye as he thought how they’d take him for a hay-stack and get sold. He was an infernal idiot. That’s me!” “Yes.” “Well, as he was standing there and feeling how sharp and cute aud cun ning lie was, up comes a man who was breathing hard and looking scart, and says to me in a whisper: ‘You look like a friend to the unfortunate. I can see by the cut of your face that I can trust you. 1 have wounded a man w ho in sulted my wife, and I must skip to Canada to escape arrest. I have no money, but here is a hundred dollar bond. Lend me $20 and keep the bond until I see you.’ That is what he said. The double-jiuted idiot from the coun try took it all in like a boy gulping down sulphur and ’lasses. That’s me some more.” “I’m listening.” “The greenhorn was flattered and tickled. He saw a chance to make $80 on tliat bond. The bomb-proof, back- action, copper - riveted agricultural peach-blossom figured as how he’d caslt that bond to-morrow and skip, and as how the man in .taste to reach Canada would never find him, and as how them $100 would buy a yoke of oxen, and so he passed over his green backs and pocketed the bond. Yes, the bald-headed, cross-eyed, bow-legged turnip patch did that very thing. That’s me to a dot!” “Is it possiblel” “And here’s the bond—worthless! And here I am—strapped! Aud some where up town is the sharper—tickled half to death at the way he played me! Say?” “Yes.” “Hunt up a bom fool, catch a crank, scare up a dude, bring 4n an old man with a third wife, and boil ’em all down and bag up the bones and call the thing Josepheus Basswood! . That’s me!” And he walked off to find the plank road running West, waiving the bogus bonu with one hand and helping to kick himself with the other. Half a block away he halted and looked back, and seeing the officer still there he gave himself three kicks and shouted out in a lonesome voice: “Don’t you forget it—that’s me!” * The White Heane. A commercial drummer with several heavy caues iu hand, panted into Warth’s barber shop, adjoining the State-street House, Trenton. One side of his face had a several days’ growth of whiskers while the other side was perfectly smoth. He threw himself into a chair. “Shave me,” he said brusquely. The astouished barber be gan to adjust a cloth mound bis neck, looking at the drummer s face mean while with eloquent curiosity. “Been in the barber chair once this morning, haven’t you?” queried the barber. “Twice,” said the stranger, correcting him. Once in “Philadelphia aud once at Bristol. Got my fafie lathered in Philadelphia and then saw I could not make my train unless 1 started. Got the barber to wipe off my face aud I ran and got on just as the train was moving. At Bristol I thought I’d have time to do some business and get shav ed and catch the next train. Got through with my business, ran into a barber shop, got lathered again, and got half my face shaved, when I heard the train coming. Jumped up and paid the barber, and again had my face wiped off, and struck for the depot aud got the train just as it was moving. People on the train looked at uie and then turned away and whispered. They thought I was an escaped lunatic. I want a close shave please, and take your time to it. I’m going to make up for this belter skelter bustuess in the morning. ” _ Leaf Photograph*. A very pretty amusement, espec ially for those who have Just completed the study of botauy is the taking of leaf photographs. One very simple pro cess is this. At any druggist’s get an ounce of bichromate of potassium. Put this into a pint bottle of water. When the solution becomes saturated—that is, when the water has dissolved as much as it will—pour off some of the liquid into a shallow dish; on this float a piece of ordinay writing paper until it is thoroughly moistened. Let it become dry in the dark. It should be a bright yellow. On this put the leaf—under it a piece of soft black cloth, and several sheets of newspapers. Put these be tween two pieces of glass (all of the pieces the same size) and with spring clothes pins fasten them together. Ex pose to a bright sun, place the leaf so that the rays will fall upon it as nearly perpendicular as possible. In a few mo ments it will begin to turn brown; but it requires from half an hour to sever al hours to produce a perfect print. When it has become dark enough, take it from the frame and put it into clear water, which must be changed every few minutes until the yellow part be comes white. (Sometimes the leaf-vein- ings will be quite distinct. By follow- ( ing these instructions it is scarcely pos-' sible to fail, aud a little practice will make perfect. “Isn’t it pretty?” said a little old man as he wheeled a baby carriage to place where a reporter was sitting in the park. “It must be pretty,” said the report er, looking into the carriage and seeing a tiny creature, snugly nestling in a downy nest, with its face covered with a delicate lace veil. The little old man was delighted, his little old chin went twit-a-twit-a-twee, and he chirped like a bird. “They keep its face covered,” he said with a sigh, “since the little white hearse drove away from the house the other day. But I——” The Utile old man stopped and looked all around with his little twinkling eyes. “I will show its face to you, sir, it’s so very, very pretty.” And the little old man’s chin again went twit-a twit-a-twee. “They will be angry,” be continued, “but I’m so proud of its pretty face that I must show it.” Suddenly the little old man took the lace that covered the baby’s face in his trembling fingers, and the reporter pre pared to burst into exclamations of de light, even if the face should prove to be the homeliest face in the world. “Musn’t,” a little child said, coming from behind the bushes aud seizing the coat tail of the little man. “Daupa musu’t.” “The flies will annoy Rose,” a gentle girl of 12 said, joining the group auc carefully replaciug the lace. Close observation showed a tear trembling iu the girl’s eye as the little old man wheeled away the carnage with the little child dancing by his side. “Oh, it’s such deception!” she ex claimed, burying her face in her hand, “Baby Rose died last week,” she con tinued, “and we are afraid to tell grand pa, as his mind is weak and she was his idol, so we put a doll in the carriage closely veiled, so he cannot see its face and let him wheel it around. But it so deceptive. Just then the little old man paused, left the little child with the carriage, and came back to where the girl was seated. He put his face close to hers aud whispered: ‘ What was it,” he asked “that they carried away in tbe little white hearse?” The poor girl turned away her face, “Flowers, she said; “only flowers, grandpa.” “I wonder,” the Uttle old man mused, “why they all tdrn their faces away when they tell me what they car ried away in the little white hearse.” Then he went to the carriage again and chirped like the merry little old man that he was. “Flowers, only flowers,” the reporter heard him murmur, as he wheeled the doll away. _ my by the loots, but it seemed to be broken off near my head, and yet, although I lost cosiderable every uight, there never was any loose hairs in the bed in the moruing. 1 finally got a friend to sit up and watch me one night, and in the morning he explained tbe whole thing, I had bitten it off and swallowed the hair. ” “But to get back to my first story. One day about seven years after 1 lost that cuff I won waikiug ou Manhattan Bench, arm-in-arm with Mr. Seligman, when he picked up something that was buried in the laud. ‘Why, that’s silver,’ said he. ‘Bo it is,’ said I, ani sure enough it was solil silver. But what is funnier, it was the identical sleeve-but ton I had lost thirteen years before iu Lake Miehigau. Now, what puzzles me is to know how that fish got way around to Ma ihatton Beach troir Caicaaro.” There was a short silence, whieh The- oplnlus interrupted. “What puzzles me, paw, is how the fish chauged a .■.old sleeve-button into a silver oue.” Doofflioker thought be heard oue ot the hens cackle aud went out to see if she had laid au egg. Coral F'ibIiIuk. The largest vessels employed in the coral fishery on the Italian coast are of about fourteen tons, and employ a dozen hands. They have to work night and day, the men relieving each other every six hours. They fish from March October, and their food consists chiefly of macaroni and biscuit. Each loat makes from 300 to 900 pounds, according to its size. The coral is usu ally found attached to rocks, never iu mud, nor in muddy waters. The coral rock is formed of different species of madrepores. Sometimes it is also found attached to shell and other marine ob- , ects. It spreads out its brandies in all directions, attaining a height of about a foot and the thickness of about au inch. This mode of fishing coral is very primitive and might be improved with idvantage. A frame, consisting of two jars of wood or iron, about fifteen feet in length, placed across each other, is weighted in tiie middle with a large stone. This frame is hung with tangles of hemp aud nets, one of which is at tached to each of the four extremities of the crossbar frame. This is then let down by means of a thick rope onto the coral bed and is dragged backward and forward till the coral brandies are en tangled in it. The rope is then attached to a windlass, and the frame is thus brought heavily to the surface. Pre cious coral varies iu color from a deep red to a pale pink. It is also sometimes marbled black and white; aud there is even black and white coral. Red coral was once the most esteemed, uow a del icate pink is the most valued. The fiuest piuk coral is worth from $400 to $000 per ounce; while ord/uary red co ral may be had for $10 per ounce. Good Advice to Young 1’aniona. lere’s assure you “Here’s Captain Eastman just come in the office to sell us a couple of 600- pound sea lions. Come in and see him.” said the keeper of a collection of curios ities in San Francisco. Captain Eastman was found to be a gigantic man, with a sun-peeled nose aud a beard like the Ancient Mar iner’s. “Where were your sea lions caught?” asked the Marshall. “On the Farallones,” replied the Captain. We caught four; two of them I’ve sent on to Baltimore and the other two are now at the bulkhead.” “How do you cetch them?” “We lasso them below the flippers as tb#y He on the rocks and then put them ip a strait-jacket, and some fun doing that I ‘' now. ” “We are not doing much in sea- lions now,’’said Marshall; it’s a losing game; and here’s Mr. Roop, our ‘animal man, who can tell you why.” As Benjamin Roop, the keeper of the Woodward’s Gardens menagerie, has been in the business for twenty-seven years, it was imagined that he would be able to furnish some other informa tion thau that on sea-lions. The idea was mooted and he said he thought so. “You see,” he continued, leaning over the railing of the duck pond, “some years ago Mr. Woodward was taken with tiie fever for raising sea lions, thinking there was a fortune iu it. There was no money hi it by buy ing and seiling them, so we tried rear ing; but ‘twas no good aud I’m ready to-day to pay any one $250 who will teach me how to rear a sea lion in cap tivity. We got them when they were about two years old and, with a good deal of care, managed to keep one hardy old ciiap six years and five monthu, The young ones want some thing from the sea that we can’t fur nish. 1 used to think they died be cause they were in fresh water, but l saw tiie experiment of salt water tanks tried iu Portland. Or, aud they died just the same. You’d be astonished,, in fact, to fiud how tender all of this tribe get when they lose their freedom. See that seal there, for instauce. That’s the seal of commerce, and the only one we’ve managed to keep out of I don’t know how many. The durned boys are always throwing gravel at him. If he’s on the shore they chuck stones at him to make him swim, and if he’s swimming they worry him until he flops up ou shore. The other day some little wretch bliuded his left eye with gravel, and since then he’s been getting thinner and thinner. I ’spose he’ll die. The most troublesome thing of all to keep, however, is a coot. That’s a coot; that spotted bird setting down there. We can keep a coot just as long as he’s got fat enough of his own to live upon. The critters won’t feed, aud when their own reservoir of fat is gone they just dies.” The Wile Match, 1 want you to De manly. I don’t like “sporting” preacher. I don’t think you need boxing gloves in your room, and your presence at the horse-race isn’t an absolute necessity. The world ex pects you to live on a higher plane of morality than the rest of us. But I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to throw a fly into a trout brook without wrapping yourself and two or three al der bushes up in your line. I don’t see why you may not play base ball as well as croquet or lawn teunis. 1 think you might play cricket it you have a few weeks you can span for tliat purpose I consider it a most excellent game to develop a man’s patience and build up a habit of long-suffering endurance. 1 have never seen a game played clear through. I am too young. If you be come addicted to croquet, however, re member to what an undue indulgence in tliis fascinating game may lead. It requires a great deal of grace to play a game of croquet without cheating some and quarreling a little. Especially after the evening beg ns to grow dark. But if you enjoy any of these games, put on a soft felt hat and play. Don’t attempt to play base ball in a stove-pipe hat. Don’t be too dignified. Rigidity isn’t dignity. The wooden Indian who stands before the cigar store never laughs. But lie isn’t majestic and he isn’t dignified, by a long chalk. Don’t be a wooden Indian. Better be a live wild oue, hair, paint, grease, dirt and all. I wouln’t carry a pistol in my hip pocket if I were you; but if you have a gun and love to shoot, a day in the marsh or on the meadows may infuse new life in your sermons. I hunt a great deal, both in and out of game seasou. I used to carry a gun with me. But it was heavy and a trouble to carry it, aud I was always leaving tbe caps or wetting the powder, so I gave the gun away. I shoot just as much game with out it, I think, as I used to bring down with it, and have just as good a- * time. So can you. Plain, straightforward morality and every-day righteousness are better than -all emotion and dogmatism and all churchism, says the world, and Chris tianity says much the same; but plain straightforward righteousness and every-day morality come more surely when a man is keeping elose to Christ. —The number of sheep in New Mex ico is reported to have increased from 10,000,000 in 1880 to 20,000,000 at the •' present time. The defeat of the American Rifle Team by the British volunteers was expected, and the slight lead they ob tained in the first day's shooting did not awaken hopes of a different result, among rifiemeu, at least. They were believed to be stronger than the British riflemen at the shorter ranges, buc were known to be weaker at the long ranges. The result of the match was, indeed, rather gratifying than other wise. The Americans did much bet ter thau a year ago, notwithstanding the bad weather. The most difficult range that was shot over is the 200 yard, where the riflemen are required to shoot from a standing position at an eight inch bull’s eye. At tiie longer ra iges the bull’s <3ye is much larger, and lying down positions may be as sumed which give greater steadiness At the 200 yard range, the Americans led and beat their score of last year, the British team just holding its own. At the 500-yard Tange the Americans fell off three points and the British two points, as compared with last year. At 600 yards the Americans gained six and the British one over last year. The weather of the second day was evident ly very bad, the scores of both teams falling off at all but the 800-yard range, where the Americans gaineu so largely as to beat the Volunteers. The net result of the match was that the Amer icans gained 101 points over last year, while the British lost 24 points. As suming that the latter’s loss may be ascribed to the bad shooting weather, the American gain is relatively greater than that shown by the figures. From this point of view they can be said to have done very well, although they were beaten. The match was with military rilles, under military rules, and probably the chief reason for the superiority of the British marksmen is that they have been practicing for several years with the weapons they used, while the Americans are armed with new guns, made for the match, with which they have had less than one year’s practice. Quick as Lightning. This is a phrase cuosen to illustrate an inconceivable rapidity, but of those who use the expression probably very few appreciate its full meaning, for Sir Charles Wheatstone has shown that a flash of lightning lasts less than a mil lionth part of a second. Tiiis is vastly more rapid than our conception of the flash, and at least one-tenth of a second must elapse—according to Professor Swan—before our sluggish sight can take in tiie full effect of the light. On account of the slowness of our percep tion, we never see the light at its real intensity. Professor Tail uas suggested that the full brilliancy must be in somo degree comparable with the sun, as Wheatstone’s and Swan’s data prove that its apparent brightness of the land scape as lit up by a lightning flash is less than one-hundred-thousandth part of what it would be were the lightning permanent. The apparent brightness, it should be mentioned, was shown by Swan to diminish in about the ratio borne by the length of time the flash lasts to tbe time required for us to per* ceive it 1 Ufa * , vi*?* ksfM