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* % Some day, some day of days, threading the street With idle, heedlsss pace, Unlocking for such grace, 1 shall behold your uu:e I Borne day, some day of days, thus may we meet. Perchance the sun may shine from skies of May, Or winter’s icy chill Touch whitely vale and hill, What matter? I shall thrill Through every vein with summer on that day. Once more life's perfect youth will ail come back, And, for a moment, there 1 shall stand fresh and fair, And drop the garment care ; Once more my perfect youth shall nothing lack. I shut my eyes, now, thinking bow t’will be— How face to face, each soul Will slip its long control, Forget the dismal dole Of dreary Fate's dark, separating sea. And glance to glance, and hand to band in greeting. The past with all its fears, Its silence and its tears, Its lonely, yearning years, Bhall vanish in the moment of that meeting. plied Kittie, l ier “Obi he’s DickI Well, I guess I know pretty nearly to/wse Dick he is. There, there, Kit, you needn’t blush quite so deeply. Come, tell me all about it.” It is good to have a friend into whose ears one may pour one’s heart anguish, liut a person must needs look far and wide ere a friend can be found, (itting to become the recipient of one’s love affair. Kittie and Claire had Iteen chums at boarding school; they had con fided much to one another then; and Kitlie, timid iitiie creature, she did not take into consideration the fact that Claire might have changed since “com ing out” and entering the gay circles of society. DICK FOSTER'S LOVE AFFAIR. Pretty Kittie Winthrope pulled the vines apart and gazed anxiously out of | her chamber window. It was a lovely picture. The window half concealed by green ivy; the sweet, young face peering through this nature’s framing. And, to Dick Foster, as he laid his hand upon the gate-latch.—the picture was doubly charming, Kittie had heard his merry whistle as he swung through the meadow grass, with long, easy stride. She knew the whistle, and it made her heart beat a Dick looked his very l>est when he came to call that evening. His splen did figure was finely arrayed in a neat fitting suit. He bore hlmseif with good manners, and his conversation was up on questions interesting to the ladies. In all Miss Claire Forney was modera tely prepossessed with the bumpkin. After two or three visits on his part, Claire became interested in him, and after a two weeks’ time hail passed she had learned of the sterling qualities which were manifest in his actions and conversation—she loved him. Claire Forney was not a scheming person at heart, but she was in love. The one great passion of her life, as it now seemed, would be to draw that big hearted, handsome farmer to her feet. Heaven seemed to have revealed itself to her as she pictured that bowed head, those honest eyes and lips, all before her liegging one, small hojie, one sweet to ken; but what of Kittie? Claire was a woman, and if she did forget her sweet faced friend, she must be excused upon the plea—that others have lost what others have won. And so, she liegau to try the effect of her ar- trifle faster than was its wont. _ The good people of the old red farm.) ra y Jf charms upon innocent Dick when house had retired with the sun, and had | nex t | te ( . aiue these two horn's been wrapped in slum ber. All but Kittie, however; she ex pected Dick, hence she had not retir ed. “Dick,” exclaimed she in a low tone. “Yes; it’s Dick, Kittie.” The face at the window disappeared; and in a few minutes a side-door open ed, and Kittie tripped down the walk. The pair passed through the garden, and went into a small rose arbor. Rather a peculiar proceeding, is it not? Yes, doubly so, when it is well- known that the girl’s parents look with «wnr upon Dick’s attachment for Kit tie. . Love is a .strange proceeding through out all its wondrous changes. What if “open day light” love be allowed, and under the eyes of the watchful? Is there not more “honey-sweet” in a few stolen moments with the veil of romance cast over them? And so, Dick Foster, the good-looking farmer’s son ( took an occasional opportunity to 'engage Kit- How captivating her charming grace with what a spell of flattery did she cast her lovely eyes upon him. Dick trembled all over. Was it fear? Was it guilt? He knew but little of women, outside of Kittie and his moth er. Kittie’s eyes bad never sent such a thrill through him. He had never gaz ed upon Kittie’s face so fervidly, as he now sits and gazes upon this, the face of an angel, but an angel of mystery; not a calm, sweet-intiuencing face, but an enchanting one, a fascinating one. He must, however, be allowed the cred it of loving, honestly ami purely as ever, me one fair oujeci oi uia ire*»n, Kittle. This other one troubled him sorely. His heart was never lost for an instant from its beloved. But be was a roan— and being a man, was human. He felt flattered and intoxicated with the citv woman’s spells. The people have retired, with the ex ception of Kittie, who is seated at her tie’s attentions by moonlight. Kittie c {^ aui ^ er window; and Claire, she too, —well, she was not averse to this. She knew that she loved the handsome, manly fellow; and she little bethought herself that aught of harm might arise from the stolen love chats in the arbor. It matters not what may have been the subject of their conversation. How ever, when Kittie came down to break fast the next morning, her eyes were brighter then usual, and the lovely hue upon her yretty cheeks was warm er. “Hellol what’s all this? Look, moth er, our Kit is just like a pictur',” said good natured farmer Winthrope. Kittie hid her blushes behind the cof fee-pot, aud was thankful that her mother did not join in. “Kit, what train will your friend come on?” asked farmer W inthrope as he rose from the table, after finishing his breakfast. “Nine forty,” responded Kittie. all unconsciously to Kittie, is seated up on a low stood, gazing out upon the beautiful expanse of landscape, bathed in the glorious silver of moonlight. A soft, low note is wafted across the meadow; it startles Kittie, and she leans out. Claire also Ileal's the whistle, but it does not disturb her; for to her it is only the whistle of some belated traveler. To Kittie it has a different meaning. A form draws near, halts at the gate, and then a voice utters “Dick.” “Its Dick,” responds the lover at the gate. Claire Forney saw her way clear; saw how she could win her heart’s idol, put Kittie aside aud step into her place. She witnessed the greeting between the lovers, and saw them pass down the garden walk and go into the little ar bor. The next evening, after the three had gained nothing. Claire Is moved to ex plained the matter to Kittie ere leaving but she is proud aud cannot act the penitent now that it’s too late. Dick Foster calls at the Winthrope farm house as before; but Kittie never apiieai's the same as of old. It puzzles Dick. What is the reason? What has he done? Better have it out than suf fer this suspense, he thinks; and so about two weeks after Claire Forney’s departure, lie calls and asks in particu lar to see Kittie. And she was first to greet him; but now he must ask for her. It is very strange to him; but he’ll have it all cleared up this night. Kittie comes into the room, takes a seat near the window and gazes out. “Kittie,” commenced Dick, “for some time back, I’ve noticed that you received me very coldly.” Coldly! What do you mean?” Yes, coldly. Oh, Kittie, my pre cious love, don’t you see that this sus pense is killing me?” She gazed at him fairly, for the first time in weeks. Strange how haggard he does look, how wan his face is. She had no words to offer in response, aud he continued: “Don’t be cold toward me, my little Kittie. Remember the words 1 whisp ered to you in the arbor before Claire came. Do you remember your words?” A shudder passed over the girl’s form. How false, how utterly false he is. How dare he talk of their love, now tliat he loves another? “I’ve tried to forget all about that,” replied Kittie. with cold tones and white, tremulous lips. “Kittiel You don’t, you surely can not mean that!” ejaculated he. “Yes; for the sake of what once was. I am trying day by day to forget you aud your false words,” said she as she rose from her chair and confronted the now thoroughly astonished young man. He gazed at her in silence. Is this the sweet, patient Kittie? Is this aroused woman who speaks in ringing tones, the once dove-like Kittie, pride of his heart? he asked himself ere speak ing, and then he said: “I do not understand you, Kittie. False words! What do you mean?” T consider them false; for—for •” and she broke down in a torrent of tears. The strain had been too great; this was most unnatural to her usually timid nature—such a stand; and now she is once more soft-hearted Kittie Wiutkrop. After the tears ceased to flow, site seemed to recover her composure, aud turning to him she said: “Dick, Dick —how could you? You knew I loved you. Oh, how could you?” “Explain, Kittie; how could I— wluitt” 'Meet—Claire that night at the gate, go into the arbor with her; fall in love with her. That’s what I mean, Dick Foster!” 'Eh!—well now, Kittie, but there— it did look very mysterious. I’ll ex plain;” aud then he told her how Claire requested him to return for a package which she wished him to express for her. And he said that Claire asxed him to step into the arbor while she gave him directions concerning the package. “Perhaps she had some reason for do ing that,” asked Kittie. “What?” “She may have wanted me to be a witness of it; for Dick, she did try to win you. 1 could see it.” “Nonsense!” Thus the clouds were driven away from the lovers’ skies. In due course of time they were married, which is the only proper culmination of a love tale—either in life or romance. “Here is your watch,” said the iew- er, as he tore off a small white tag from the ring of a well-worn silver watch aud handed the time-piece to a reporter one day last week. “If it breaks inside of a year you can bring it ack aud 1 will fix it for nothing. I don’t think it will trouble you though, for it was very thoroughly repaired by one of our best workmen.” “I hope not,” replied the reporter as he paid the . eweler $3 aud left the store with the watch ticking loudly hox-hie - iMektsl. b’or nearly a week the watch was a model of regularity, recording the tune even to the minute with the great, yel- ow-faced clock in the City Hall tower. One morning, however, when it was drawn from under his pillow, the re porter discovered to his dismay that the hands were pointing to the hour of o’clock. It couldn’t be afternoon so early in the day. He rubbed his eyes - and looked at the dial again. Surely there must be some inatake about it. i le examined the hands. They were stationary. He placed it to his ear. it was as silent as a clam. The watch had stopped inside of the tirst week and in spite of the three-dollur charge and the year’s guarantee. He shook it. A few feeble ticks responded to the jar. The stubby second hand moved slowly about one quar ter around its short cir cuit aud then stopped ps before, ile pounded it on the bed and mtule some uncomplimentary remarks about the watch-maker. This evoked another semi-revolution, which was again suc ceeded by the same silence. After breakfast the unfortunate owner stepped into the nearest watch maker’s, a seveu-by-nine shop, in upper Broadway, aud asked the proprietor what was the matter with the watch. The jeweler took the time-piece, pried open the inside cover with a small can- opeuer, aud peered into the works. After a cursory examination he handed it back to the owner, “it needs clean ing,” he said. “Cleaning?” ejaculated the reporter, in astonishment; “why 1 paid $3 only Jast week for having it thoroughly cleaned.” “1 can’t help that,” Replied the jew eler; “you were very 'foolish to take such a watch to a sec •nd-class work man. The reason it don’t run is be- “Do you want one of the horses hitch- passed a couple of pleasant hours, and he ed up?” “N— no; Dick “O, Dick’s going to meet her, is he? Well, you’d better look out or she’ll steal him from you; he might fall in love with this gay, city maid,” laugh ingly interrupted Kittie’s father as he went out. This caused her to blush only the deeper. However, she perfectly under stood the dear, good man, and—but his last words were not very pleasant. She knew that uer lover was as true as steel; and she soon drove the cloud away as she went about her light, morning work, The pink chamber was all nice ly arranged, and after she had surveyed its charming aspect for the fourth or fifth time, she stood and mused: “Claire cannot help but like it; it is so sweet and fresh. And she, poor girl, has been cooped up in that horrid city all winter.” The time speeds rapidly, and then she hears the sound of wheels. She rushes to the door. Yes, ’tie Claire; she’s I and bathes her pillow with hot, bitter herel Dick descends and helps the fair | tears. Dick rose to leave, Claire followed him to the gate, excusing the act to Kittie by telling her that she wished him to post a letter for her. “1 have not got the package quite ready yet, Mr. Foster,I’d like to have it go on the morning train. Will it be asking too much of you to return after awhile?” “O, certainly not, Miss Forney,” re sponded Dick, “get it ready and I’ll come back for it to-night.” Kittie watched at her window as us ual, and Claire, she also was at her’s. Then a form appeared, coming across the meadow. Kittie’s quick eyes re cognized her lover—but why don’t he whistle? The form nears the gate, and then Claire emerges from the house aud goes toward Dick. Can Kittie’s eyes deceivejher? The two pass down the walk aud disappear into the arbor. A low moan wells from Kittie’s lips, and in a transport of grief she throws herself upon her bed visitor down, and then carries her trunk to the porch. “Oh, you dear, sweet little darling, you! It seems an age since I saw you!’ cried beautiful Claire, as she threw her arms about Kittie and half crushed her in a warm embrace. Greetings, especially between two young ladies, are not in my line of de scriptive powers, hence I’ll pass over the spirited congratulations and the like. “Dick, I’m ever so much obliged to you for meeting Claire,” exclaimed Kit tie. “Yes, Dick, I m obliged, too,” sang out Claire in a pretty tone. After the young man had departed, aud after Claire had removed the traces of travel and changed her dress, she turned toward Kittie as the two were standing in the arbor and said: "Tell me, for mercy’s sake! Who is that country bumpkin?” This took lit tle Kittie’s breath quite away; and for a few moments she could not reply. Dick, her Dick—a bumpkin! A ud to be called that, right here upon the spot where he had talked so sweetly. “I’m sure. Claire, Dick Foster is not a bumpkin,” half angrily returned Kit tie. “Well, who and what is he then, Kit?” “Why, he—he’s Dick,” softly re- ‘Dick is false to me, false! He is only playing with my heart; aud—he loves my brilliant friend; nay! friend no longer, but a scheming woman,” and her heart seems to rise and choke her. She must not give the guilty air a reason to see or understand that she has been a witness of tliis night’s meet ing. Aud so, when Kittie went down to breakfast the next morning she said that a wretched headache caused her eyes to look heavy. Dick received just the least mite of a perceptible coldness from Kittie when he called that even- ivg. Claire was very profuse in her blandishments. When Dick left it was with a mnjd sorely troubled. Kittie’s strange quietness, her cold demeanor, and then he remembered what a grand beautiful woman Claire Forney was. Thus, he was in a whirlpool of mental anxiety. Gradually the part turns to a generally leaves coldness on Kittie’s chill silence, aud she the room when Dick comes—excusing herself with that wo man's plea—headache. Thus, Claire aud Dick are thrown more and more together, while Kittie seems to have withdrawn without even an explana tion. It is with a chill feeling of disap pointment that Claire Forney takes her leave. She has all but thrown herself at Dick, and he is dumb. She has es tranged Kittie from her lover, and has Holiday!. That a holiday is necessity, and not merely a luxury, is a fact which, the British Medical Journal says, it especi ally behooves members of our hard working professions to remember in the regulation of their own lives as well as in their dealings with their patients. For the brain-worker periodical remis sion of accustomed toil has always been a necessary condition of continued vigor. For him the heightened tension of modern life has especially accentuat ed the need for occasional periods de voted to the recreation and reaccumula tion of energy. The cogent physiolo gical principles and practical purposes of systematic holidays are generally ad mitted. All workers, it they are to last, must have holidays. For some persons and for some occupations fre quent short holidays ^re the best; with other natures and in other circumstan ces, only comparatively long periods of release from routine are of service. Few real workers, if any, can safely continue to deny themselves at least a yearly holiday. Mere rests, that is, mere cessation from work, while it is better than unbroken toil, does not re create the fauly vigorous so thoroughly as does a complete change of activity from accustomed channels. For the strong worker, either with brain or muscle, diversion of activity recreates better than rest alone. The whole body feeds as it works, aud grows as it feeds Rest may check expenditure of force, but it is chietly by expending energy that the stores of energy can be repieu- isheu. We mostly need holidays, be cause our ordinary daily life tends to sink into a narrower groove of routine exertion working aud wearing some part of our organism disproportionately so that its powers of work aud its facul ty of recuiieration are alike worn down In a well-arranged holiday we do not cease from activity; we only change its channels W ith such change we give a new aud saving stimulus to assimila tion and the transmutation of its pro ducts into force. As a rule, the hardest workers live longest, but only those live long who sudicieiitly break their wont ei toil by the recreating varieties of well-timed and well-spent holidays. Mexico u making a duty of the cul ture of the rubber plant. The hardi neaa of the plant is said to be such that its culture is exceedingly simple and in expensive where the climate and sot are suitable. In much of the Mexican coast region the only expense is the weeding required when the plants are iyoung. ' cause it’s dirty. The pinions are cov ered with dust and the oil is all gum. Leave it here and 1 will tix it for you in good shape. Call again on Saturday anil it will be ready. It will only cost you $1.50, aud you will then have a wuu-.h von ha; 1st itrinS** r - ^eL>j Thoroughly disgusted with the watch aud the man who iiad warranted it, the reporter declined the offer, pocketed his time-piece, aud left the shop. A few doors below, outlie same thorough fare, a brazen watch with a pair of black hands pointing tixediy to 12:20 swings from a rusty iron bar. The re porter passed under this sign aud en tered another jewelry store. A fleshy person who was seated at a work-bench facing the wiudow reached for the watch aud proceeded to opeu ik as one would opeu an oyster. Fiaciug an eye glass which resembled a very short teles cope to his eye, he critically examiued the movements. After taking obser vations from every position a watch can be held in, he veutured an opinion that the jewel which covers the escapement pinion was broken. “Yes,” said he, after sundry punches in the vital re gions of the works with a small steel instrument, such as dentists use, “the jewel is broken. Any man can se that with half an eye. 1 wonder the watch ran at all. Have you dropped it any where? No? Well, that’s strange. 1 can’t be mistaken. The jewel is cer tainly broken. • Leave it with me and will put in a new one. it will cost only $o, and call around some day next week. What name, please?” The mime was not given aud tne watch returned. in the block below a tab street clock indicates the presence of another jew elry establishment, wmle large show cases lilled with costly trinkets aud a brilliant assortment of diamonds and watches in the front windows attested its claim as a fashionable emporium The reporter went in there. A languid young man, with a drooping mustache the color of barley straw, took the watch, and after working his way into the movement, placed a small lorgnette to his eye aud glanced over the assort ment of wheels aud pinions and springs winch were so numerously and di versely disordered. He remarked: “Tour watch is very badly out of re pair. The escapement does not seem to be doing its work. The hair-spring is too long. It has too much play, will cut it off and shorten it.” Here ne reached tor a small instrument to sever the spring, but the reporter inter posed. “No,” he exclaimed, as ho res cued the ume-piece; “don’t cut Lie spring, i guess that is not wiiat ails me thing lor 1 paid $1 for havqig it re paired aud cleaned only last week, and it ran very nicely until tins morning, wueu it stopped.” Oh yes,” interrupted the young man, “1 see; you dropped it and me spring was spread out by the jar. 1 will undertake to repair it thoroughly for $f, so tliat you can rely on it. 1 will give you a guarantee, aud if it breaks—” “The reporter did not remain to hear the rest of the sentence. The watch bad all the guarantees it could stand. He had heard by this time so many different opinions U|iou the condition or the waten tliat he was determined to learn, if possible, wlial did ail it. A few blocks down the street another jeweler was found. After several sliakes he applied the watch to his left ear and listened attentively, “i think,” said he, with a shade oi doubt in his voice, -thatthe main-spring is broken.!’ ile then opened the inside case anil scrutinized the works careiully “Yes,” he continued, “the main-spring is evi dently broken. You must liavo been very careless with the watch, and let it No? Weil, you have wound it up too tight. That often is as* bad as a fall, i will put you iu a new one for |2. ” The offer wa. not accepted, and the reporter walked out of the shop with his dilapidated chronometer iu his pocket, to the great disgust of the jewetef. At tire next store a small, nervous man was examining a double row of fly-specked watches, suspended from a small iron rack in the wiudow, and baking in the sun which filtered through the dusty window panes. He took the time-piece and. reaching into a drawer, pulled out a white tag and proceeded to tie it to the riig, “What name?” , he asked. “No name,” re plied the owner; “please telj| me what is the matter with the wat®.” With an air of annoyance, the nawous man exposed the works and»around the balance-wheel, with wiiat apiniared to the owner to be ill most wilful ma lice. “One of the pinions is beut, the escapement is out of balance, and it needs cleaning; $3, call next Saturday. ” The owner protested, aud the watch was returned. Having had sufficient exiiorience iu Broadway lie now visited the Bowery. A large gilt sign over a wide doorway and several suspended clocks and watches, also in gilt, betokened a “jew elry palace,” and into it the reporter walked. “What is the matter with this watch?” lie asked. The proprie tor, an elderly man, took the time piece, shook it, listened, opened it, gazed into it and shook his head. “Hi- rami” he called to a curly-headed young man, who was working at the rear end of the store, cleaning jewelry with a long brush and some white powder. The young man stepped to the counter. “Vat isli de madder mil dat vatch?” asked the proprietor. Hiram looked at the watch as one would regard a very sore thumb and shook his head without replying. “Moses!” called the old geulleuiaii to a second young man, younger than Hiram, who came from behind the rear partition. “Moses,” said lie, “you dell de shentlemau vat isli de madder mit his vatch.” Moses looked at the poor, miserable time-piece with even more solemnity than Ins brother, and, after sundry lugubrious shakes of his head, responded: “De cap chevvel isli owet of blace. it vash growded back of de esgapemeut. if you dry to make it run miiowet gittiug it rebaired, you will rum your vatch. I uever saw a vatch as bad as dat. it vill ouly gost you $5.” \ “1 can’t leave it to-day,” responded tbe reporter. i will gif you a line job for $i, foi ls, for $2, for a dollar and a halluf; and I vouldu’t do it von ceut sheaper for my grautfadder.” But in spite of tbe libcralit) of Uie offer tbe reporter pocketed his watch and pursued ms search for information. Many other stores were visited and ““*“J i-Mnnatsi >uu>v» intarvkxv-a. 'There were 17 seen in all. Three attri buted tbe stoppage to a broken main spring, live said it was caused by dirt, tmee thought that broken jewels made the trouble, two diagnosed it as a case of bent pinions, and tbe remainder were divided in their opinions, varying from a disordered escapement to a broken tooth in a cog-wheel. Finally, tired of watches and watcimiakers, the reporter carried it to the jeweler who had originally repaired it. “Tiler e,” said fie, as he laid the time-piece on the velvet counter mat, “take tins miser able, ailing watch. You may keep it or give it away, just as you please, it hasn’t a whole wheel in it. 'The main spring is broken, the escapement is out of sorts, it wasu’t half cleaned, and it is eutirely ruined, it will cost me a small fortune to have it repaired. I don’t waul n any more. It makes me tired to see it around. I’ll buy a new dollar-aud-a-half watch tliat I can take some comfort iu.” The jeweler took tlie time-piece aud retired into Lie workshop, iu a few minutes lie relumed with a broad smile on his face. “Here it is, in perfect order. There is nothing the matter with it. You for got to wind it up last night.” Lord Uigglaton In Arkansas. Lord Higgleton, who came to Arkan sas with a view to the purcliase of a large tract of timlier laud, does not like certain social conditions which he found in the remote regions where steam whis tle has never disturbed the quiet of the squatter. Some time ago, while riding alone through the woods, he lost the pretense of a road he had been attempt ing to follow. Night came, bringing with ita heavy black cloud, from which a torrent of rain began to pour. Just as* be had despaired of finding a place of shelter he saw a small light gleaming among the trees. Guiding his horse iu that direction he soon came to a fence surrounding a small house. “Say, my good man,” he called. “You bet I’m a good man,” replied some one opening the door. “I’m counted the best man in this cummunity. No longer ago than yisterday I flung Alio Nuckle. Don’t know Abe, I reckin?” “No, I am not acquainted in this couutry;” and thihldiig to impress the man with his rank, which in America he knew was always toadied to, he addon: “I am the Ixml—” “The devil you sayl Then I reckin you air a stranger here. Jule,” turning to his wife, “git up. The Lord’s out here.” “You don’t understand me,” said the Earl of Hig- gleton, waiting for au invitation before dismounting; “I say I am the Lord—” “Oh. yes, I uu’erstand. Ain’t been much acquainted with yer in tbe past, but I reckiu I ken make up fur lost time in the futur’.” “I am as wet as a drowned rat, don’t you know—” “Don’t know, poduer—’scuze the fam iliarity—but I bev reason ter jedge tiiat yer air. Never seed a man that could stay out in tbe rain without git- tin sorter damp.” “Look here, I’m tired of this foolishness.” “I’m lookin’ thar, but I kain’t see nutliiu’.” “Well, darn your bloody bide, haven’t you got enough sense to ask a man in out of the raiu?” “Reckiu I’ve got the sense, but I ain’t got a bloody hide, an’ it would take a good ’un to bloody it. Ef yer don’t believe it jus’ slip- shuck yerself.” “No use, you know, to talk to me that way, 1 am a graduate of a boxiug academy.” “Yes, au’ 1 split rails fur ten years. 1 carry a maul in one sleeve aud a handspike iu ,he other, an’a wedge on top o’ my lead.” “You,pap,”called tlie woman, “let the man aloue. Didn’t he say he was the Lord or suthin’ o’ the sort.” I ain’t a goin’ to pester him, lessen ie ags it ou, but 1 don’t care if he’s Giueral Jackson, much less the Lord, re kaiu’t tamper with me.” You per sist iu misconstruing what L say,” said DoLi..*!iggleLm. “Jule, did yer hear hat woiur Biamea ir f uou t uenuvo he is a sort of a Lord.” “I want to come into your house and dry myself jy the Are.” “Then come ou, fur yer as welcome as the fresh air iu J uue. Come in, sir,” he added, as the stranger approached, “you didn’t say that you wanted to come in.” “But you might liave known tliat 1 did.” “Yes, but I never try ter ’tend ter other folks’ jusiuess. It was norated aroun’ this neighborhood onct that I could whip <he devil, au’ when you said yer was the Lord I didn’t know but yer wanted a ittle fuu. Make yourself at home, sir. Juie, git the jug.” Melt’* \V«»r. THE VERDICT -or— In apparel for gentlemen a more staid and conservative feeling is springing up, and, though no radical change will be made, trousers will not be so tight, coats not' so long or so poiLt«Kl in the tails, and patterns for waistcoats and trousers not so pronounced. The regu lar English fashion of wearing coat aud waistcoat of one kind of goods aud trousers of another will prevail to a large extent, li is a sensible fashion, too, for a coat and waistcoat will out last two or three pairs of trousers. Frock coats, generally known us Prince Alberts, will he extensively worn aud divide the honors with four-button cu taways, sack coats having gone entirely out of lastiion, except for country, sea side and clearly informal occasions. As to the materials to be worn, importa tions have not yet reached us. Judg ing by Lie samples, however, dark small ciiecks and over-checks, varying stiades ot cork-screws, aud flue, dark tweeds, with small, scarcely discernible sjHits of while or red, wilt be mostly sought alter. Looking' farther ahead to the winter, friezes will be Lhe.iiiost fashion able material lor overcoats, "which will be cut as frock coats or double-breasted sacks. it is a fact worthy of notice that the ouly article of men’s dress iu the lasuiomug of which the wearer’s taste plays no part is Uie hat. The styles of hats are Uue altogether to the taste and fancy of tbe manufacturer, so thaC twenty-four hours before the new style is displayed in the natter’s window no one nut the “timsuei” knows wiiat shape it will assume.. According to Mr. Dunlap, therefore, it is impossible now to give au idea oi wiiat expanse of curling uriui or curve of tbe bed-crown will adorn Lie heads of our gilded youth wtieu Liey drive tneir dog-carts in the Tarn iu a few weeks. Mnoes will fol low the fashion of the cloth clothes am be less pointed than heretofore. They will be made as plain aud simple as possible, witn patem-leather vamps and kid or black silk uppers, laced in front. Collars will still iientgn “all-rounders,” aud the neckties will be quiet*silk checks tied In a sailor’s knot, with no pm of any sort or description. —Every portion of tbe oieander bush —leaf, flower, bark aud root—is deadly oisou. THE PEOTLEL BUY THE BEST! Mr. J. O. Boas—Dear Sir: I boagnt trie Orst Davis Macbiue sold by you over live years ago for my wife, wbo ban given it a long and fair (rial. I am well pleased witb It. It never Rives any rouble, aud is as good as when Brat bought. J. W. HOI.ICC. Winnsboro, S. C., April 1883. Mr. Boaq: Ton wish to know what T have to say In regard to tbe Davis Machine bought of you three years ago. 1 feel 1 can’t say too mneh In its lavor. I made about $80,oo within live months, at tlmea running It so fast that the needle would get per fectly hot from friction. I feel conddenl I could not nave done the same wore with as much ease and so well with any other machine. No time lost In adjusting attachments. The lightest running machine 1 have ever treailled. Brother James and Williams’ families are as much pleased with their Davis Machines iKiught or . au. I want no lletter machine. As I said beure, I don’t think too much can tie said for the Davis Machine. Respectfully, ELLBN 1STKVBN80N, Falrdeld County, April, 1883. Mr. Boag : My machine gives me perfect Batts' 1 faction. 1 dnd no fault with It. The attachments ai e so simple, i wish for no better than the Davis Vertical Feed. Respectfully. Mrs. R. Milling. Fairfleld county, April, 1883. Mr. Boag: I tiougnt a navis Vertical Feed ewiug Machine from you four years ago. 1 am elighted with it. It uever has given me any roulile, and has uever been the least out of order. It Is as good as when I hrst bought it. 1 can cheerfully recommend It. Respectfully, . Mrs. M. J. Kirkland. Montlcello, April 30, 1883. This Is to certify that t have been using a Davis Vertlc.il Feed Sewing Machine for over tw iy«Ars, purchased of Mr. J. O. Boag. 1 haven’t found it p issessed of any fault—all the attachments are so simple. It neverrefuses to work, and is certainly ths lightest running in the market. I consider it a hrst class machine. Very respectfully. Minnir m. Willingham. Oakland. Fairfleld county, S. (!, Mr boag: i am wen pieaseu mevery particui wlih the Davis Machine bought of you. 1 think a Ursi -class machine in every respect. You knew you sold several machines of the same make to dilferent members of our famines, all of whom, as far as 1 know, are well pleased wltn them. Respectfully, Fairfleld connty, April, 1883. A Minneapolis Land Aganl. While riding out across tbe unfenceil prairies three miles beyond the city I came across two men. One had bis locket full of signs and the other carried in axa and a bundle of stakes. After pacing around for a time iu tbe tall grass, tbe man with the hatchet drove a stake aud the other man pulled forth and tacked to it: “This house and lot for sale or rent ou easy terms. ” Accost ing him, I exclaimed: “Man alive, what do you mean by putting up such a sign on au unknown prairie?” There isn’t a house or a street within a mile of here.” Looking up pityingly, aud drawing a roll of paper from his pocket, the agent replied: “Here is the plan for a seven room house. This afternoon twenty-four men will begin its construc tion. Here is a contract for its lease al ready signed at $25 i>er month, and a week from next Saturday the tenant will move in. My name is Herrick. I’ll sell you a lot fronting this double-track street-car line ou this brood avenue for ${000. Cheap as dirt. Next week you can refuse |1>U00 for your property.” Catching my breath, I protested: “Broad avenue! Double-track street car line! Great King, this is an open prairie. It lias uever even been plow ed.” But from the other pocket jumped another roll of papers. “Here is tlie plan of the street I had recorded this morning, and here is a petition for a street-car line. In sixty days you will have both. Here 1 have a deed all till ed out, except signing, and I can make this lot right over to you now. We’ll get witnesses down town.” “Your lot,” I timidly ventured, is small; only sixteen feet.” “Small 1” yelled Herrick, in a tragic and injured voice. “Do you call sixteen feet front small?’ Why, you can build a three-story house on tliat lot, and that is large enough for anybody.” At this 1 cut the horse and galloped away through Uie grans, lest I should fall a victim tollerrick’s blandishments aud schemes, Us* of Sana fur L lo*ri. A writer remarks that the application of a specially prepared sand to granulat ing sores has been tried for some time with snoosss, aud that it possesse* the advantage, since it absorbs the discharge, of seldom requiring removal, so that healing can proceed without interrupt ion. The sand is prepared as follows: It is tirst heated to a temperature capable of destroying all organic parti cles; it is then Soaked in a solution of one part oi bichloride of mercury in one thousand parts of water; after this, the mixture is placed in bottles, and can be nsed as required. This mode of treating ulcers is, however, not new, the sandy earth of the termite ants having, it is well known, long been nsed for this pur pose by the natives on the west coast of Africa. Bat whether this termite earth possesses any antiseptic properties de rived from tne white ants is an interest ing question not yet decided. This Is to certify we hive nat in constant use the Davis Machine bought ot jrou about three years ago. As are take Id work, and have made the price ot it several times over, we don’t want aay better machine. It la 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, t'ATHKKINK WYLII AND BIRTRR. April as, 1888, I have no fault to Bud with my machine, and don't want any better. 1 have made tne price ot it severa times by taking In sewing. It la always ready to do Its work. I think It a Hrst-class ms chine. I feel I can't say loo much for the Davis Vertical Feed Machine. Mrs, Thomas hmith. Fairfleld county, April, 1883. Mr. J. O. Boag—Dear Sir: It gives me much pleasure to testity to tbe merits of the Davis Ver tical Feed Sewing Machine. Tne machine I got of yon about Uve years ago. baa been almost In con- siaut use ever since that time. I cannot see that It Is woru any, aud has not cost me one cent for repairs since we have bad It. Am well pleased aud don’t wish for soy better. Yours truly, Robt. CRAWFORD, Granite Quarry, near Winnsboro s. C. We have used the Davis Vertical Feed Sewing Machine for the last live years. We would not have any other make at any price. The machine has given ua unbounded satisfaction. Very respectfully, Mrs. W. K. Turner and Daughtirsi Fairfleld county, s. C.. Jan. 27, 1883. Having bought a Davla Vertical Feed Sewing Machine from Mr. J. O. Boag some three years ago, and It having given me perfect satisfaction in every resitect asa fai 111 amily machine, both for hea y and light'sewing, and never needed the least re pair in any way, i can oneerfolly recommend It to auy one as a nrst-claaa machine in every particu lar, and think It second to none. It la 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 I have ever seen or used. Mrs. Thomas owing*. Winnsboro, Fairfleld county, & C. We have had one of the Davis Machines about four yean and have always found It ready to do all kinds of work we nave had occasion to do. Can’t see mat tbe machine Is worn any, and works as well as when new. Mrs. W. J. Crawford, Jackson’s Creek. Fairfleld coumv, a C. My wife Is highly pleased with the Davis Ma chine bought of yon. »ne would not take double what she gave for It. The machine has oot been out of order since she had it, and she can do any kind of work on it. ' . Very Respectfully, Jab. F. Frrr. Montlcello, Fairfleld county, S. C. The Davis Sewing Machine Is simply e treas ure Mrs. J. a. uoodwyn. Ridgeway, N. C., Jan. 10, lass. J, O Boag, Esq., Agent—Dear Sir: My wife has oeen using a navis sewing Machine constant ly for the past four years, and It has never needed any repairs an i works Just as well as when first bought She says It will do a greater range of practical work oud do it easier and better than any machine she has ever used. We cheerfully recommend It as a No, l family mac tune, You tru.y, Jab. Q. Davis. Winnsboro, S. C., Jan. 3,1883. Mb. Boag : I have always found my Davis Ma chine ready do all kinds of to work 1 have had oc casion to do. 1 cannot Bee that the machine la worn a particle and it works as wedaa when new. Respectfully, Mas. K. C. Gooding. Winnsboro, 8. C., April, 1883.. Mb. Boag : My wife has been constantly using the Davis Machine bought of yon about Bve years ago. I have never regretted buying it, aa a to always ready for any kind of family sewing, either neavy or light. " '