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- j jr v. ABBEVILLE PRESS & BANNER. * BY HUGH WILSON AND H. T. WARDLAW. ABBEVILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, MARCH 2, 1881. NO. 39. VOLUME XXV. Pay the Printer. When the ookl stonr. howls around th<* d<? And you l>y the light of taper. Sit closely by :h- rveniny tire. F.niovinir the l.i.-r taner. lust think of him whose work thus lielp? To wear away th?- winter, And put this ipiery *<> yourself?Have I paid the printer? Proru east and west. from north and south. From lands lx-y.m?I Th* water. He weekly brings you lots of news From every nook and .piarter; No slave on earth t-?ii- more than lie. Tlm-Hgli < Kiln-:-'.- heat and win tor: How run yo.i for a tuotiu-ut. then, Neglect to pay tho printer? Your other I i'i* io.i promptly pay, Wherever you do go. sir; The butcher for hi-< meat paid. For sundries is riu* grocer: The tailor ;;n 1 tin- shoemaker, The hatter and the vinter: All get their pay.-then why neglect To settle with the printer? THE VILLAGE BELLE. She was very beautiful. No oueeouU t* <l!ct\nfn if Of ormrco there were many who (lid dispute it, though, more especially those of her own si x. Unsuccessful applicants, also, to her hand and heart pronounced her " nothing out of the common" after, not before, you may be sure, they had met with a firm rejection at her hands. Yes, Clara Moore was a very beautiful girl. Such a Hood of golden hair, such regular and exquisitely-chiseled features, and such a beautiful complexion. She held onlv an humble position in life. lid muiuri jvrpi tiitr inoL ouup in me Ullage, a kind of general store, where you could purchase anything and everything, from a ball of string to a box of pills. The ullage in which she dwelt was very small but very pretty. Every one seemed to take a pride in his particular cottage, and endeavored to vie with his ueiglibors in maintaining picturesqueuess and cleanliness. Through this charming little homestead ran a trout stream, and hither occasionally in the summer months would resort some lover of the rod and line? an importation from some crowded scene 01 tumult and money making. In the ullage inn there 'was not accommodations for more than three or four visitors- that is to say, if they purtwwp/? Qtovinr* all Tnnrlif_1in+ nf cottages a]>artments could be obtained. Mrs. Moore was among those who could furnish comfortable rooms for a ven ;leman, and few summers went by without her apartments being let. It was on a bright morning in the merry month of May when Francis Cox knocked at the private door of Mrs. Moore's residence. He was a very good-looking fellow at first sight; just the sort of face his that would take with a woman. But when . you came to look into it, it betrayed a yivat amount of weakness: and the eyes, though not unprepossessing altogether in their expression, were set too closely together. Mrs. Moore was busy in the shop ; \jjara nau. neon looKing aner me Household work, ami she it was who opened the door to Mi. Cox. ' Haw!" he exclaimed, in an affected and somewhat domineering tone of voice, " I sec you have rooms to let; I wish to look at them." ""Will you step insideV" responded Clara, who was rather nettled at his manner of address, and eonsec|uently did not say " sir," which she otherwise would have done. "Dooeid small, ain't they?" said Mr. Cox, putting up his eyeglass and surveying Clara wi.li a half-astonished, half-indignant air. " They are naturally small," answered Clara, "this being but a cottage." " Haw! of course : one cannot expect a palace in an out-of-the-way place like this," he responded. The remark as to its being un out-ofthe-way place was intended either to annoy Claia, or to impress her with the idea that she was addressing one who was accustomed to the grandeur and importance of cities. It failed, however, in both instances. " There -is another thing," observed Clam, " which will probably render them unsuitable to you?they are connected with the shop." "Connected v.ith the shop?" exclaimed Mr. Co:;, in an evident state of perplexity. "Yes," said Clara. " the door you knocked at i.s the private entrance to the same building as that with which the shop is connected." They were now standing iu the small sitting-room. Clara pointed to the door at the other side of the passage. " That door,*" she explained, "leads into the shop which mother keeps. Now do you umleistand?" "Oh! haw! Yes, I understand." A slight pause followed, during which Mr. Cox surveyed the room through las eyeglass. He then said : " That wouldn't matter at all if the rooms suited. What is the tisure ?" " Two dollars per week, including attendance." " Haw! May I look at the bedroom ?" " Certainly." Re followed Clara upstairs. " It's considerably larger than the sitting-room," observed Mr. Cox. 44 Yes; it is over the passage as well." " Exactly ; and only four dollars a week, including attendance ?" " Two dollars," said Clara, correcting him. "Two dollars! Two dollars only! Surely you must be mistaken." " No, I am mistaken." "Excuse me; but how on earth can ir pav you ? " "Oh. neonle can live on so little in iiU out-of-the-way place like this," answered Clara. " Haw !" exclaimed Mr. Cox, who could not repress a smile ; " very good. I always thought u rustic life blunted tho understanding; I see I am mistaken. I hope you did not think me intentionally rude." He made this apology in such a nice manner that Clam's animosity began to take rapid flight. " Oh, dear, no," she said, and then she conducted him downstairs. " Well, if you'll have me," observed * Mr. Cox, whose different manner seemed to convert him into quite another person, " I shall be happy to take the rooms. The fact of the matter is, 1 am reading hard for my final, and I want a quiet spot where there will be no comp mionship to take me from my books, and where I can have a little solitary recreation in the shape of trout-tishing. _ A harmless amusement that, is it not" " The fish do not think so," replied Clara, smiling. " If you will sit down a moment I will fetch mother, and yon can arrange matters with her." So saying, having handed him a chair Clara departed to call Mrs. Moore That worthy lady was soon in attend ?.:ice, and before Mr. Cox had quitt#c her roof be had arranged to take thi r ->oms for at least a couple of monthi f am tho following Thursday. [r in, perhaps, almost superfluous t< I state that Clara Moore, being such beautiful girl, had nnmerotis admire] Although the village?by name Mu ford?was in itself small, there wc plenty of outlying farms; and not mo (linn niilps nu'nv n mn tmv From these surrounding quarters car many and many a one to see the villa: belle, and many and many a one at tii sight fell over head ears in love with ai her. Added to her charms of face and li ure, she had a remarkably sweet voic and although it was not highly cull vated, it was not altogether untraine The consequence was she was in gre request at readings, which, during tl winter months, she attended with coc i[loadable regularity. At one of these entertainments si had met one Arnold Carew, a well-to-d farmer's son. who lived some two mil< away from Munford. She had been ii troduced to him there, and he, lili many another, fell in love with her. Of all the men she had met she like him the best, and, not a week prior t the advent of Mr. Cox as a lodger t her mother's house, she had as good ti consented to be engaged to him. 1 It is unpleasant to pick holes in an; body's character, and doubly unpleasai: to pull to pieces the disposition of on who is in all external things perfection But the truth must be told?Clar Moore was a terrible flirt: and, lik most mns, sue seernea ro nave a iota disregard for the feelings of her vie tims. She would lead a man on to be lieve at least in the possibility of hi one day securing her affections (indeed the very fact of a woman tarrying in man's society to listen to his love pas sages, is in itself an earnest of her ap preciation of his society), and then when it suited her caprice, would thro\ him over and laiigh at him. Clara Moore had tried young Ar nold Carew's patience to the utmos more than once. Ay, scores and score: of times she had destroyed his peace o mind by her pernicious fondness fo: what she called a " harmless flirtation.' Aiul we niUNt erive her credit for tin fact that her flirtations were in oik sense harmless ; there was no nee about her. She never forgot that self-respecl which renders a woman precious in the eves of men. When Arnold Carew won her consent to be engaged to him?for she as gooil as promised him to become his wife I " some day," though she expressed herself in sufficiently indetinite terms to admit of her escaping from her promise if she pleased to change her mind, without his being able to affirm she had evei strictly bound herself to him?he was well satisfied. He felt he could trust her ; and even bear her flirting propensities with greater eauanimitv than he hail hitherto been able to Jo. There were few evenings on which Arnold Carew failed to walk over from his father's farm and enjoy a pleasant , stroll with " the lady of his love." Happy evenings were they for him. Through the day lie looked forward tc them ; they lightened his toil and made his existence much happier than it had ! ever been. He had "a double incentive to work. It was not self that he toiled for only, now ; he knew that he was working foi her! | Mr. Cox had not been located in Mrs. (Moore's small though comfortable apartments more than a fortnight before ! Clara's evening rambles with Arnold : Carew became less frequent. Clara had all along been very silenl as to the lodger ; and at first it nevei entered into Arnold Carew's mind thai I that accounted in anv wav for her les> frequent appearance at their usual ren i dezvous. One evening, however, he ventured ; to complain, anil chanced in his tempo rary annoyance to say: " Oh, I sup I pose there is some attraction about this ; heavy swell who is staying at youi mother's." ; Clara flushed up in a moment, ami ; answered, hotly : " You are quite wel come to think what you please in thai respect. He is a perfect gentleman, J which is saying more for him than om can say for everybody." i " I don't pretend to be a gentleman,' was Arnold's cool answer ; " nor do ] profess to be an educated fellow. 1 know von can beat me hollow as fjir .is learning goes; hut learning is nol everything in this world ; ami people can feel ami think with only a little of it." Now Clam was very fairly educated, indeed; and, certainly, was what is vul gularlv called more of a ".scholar" thai 'her sweetheart; but he was not an ignoramus by any means. His words made her feel a little ashamed of herself; so she answered: " I didn't mean to insinuate that I'm better educated than you, or that you are not a gentleman at heart; hut I di consider it most uisreasr.iialde and unjustifiable that yo:; should throw oul hints against Mr. Cox, simply because he's a gentleman of superior education.' ; " it's very certain I've seen miu-li less of you, Clara, since he came here," an swered Arnold Carew, with melanclioh reproach manifest in his tone of voice. ; " Well, if you must know the truth,' answered Clara; " but you're so hotheaded and unreasonable I've nevei liked tn name it to you before; lie's kindly undertaken to teach me French and that accounts for my evenings beinc more occupied than they were." " It was your duty to have told mc before," answered Arnold, suppressing bis jealous indignation. " Where doe; he teach you V" " In the sitting-room, of course." lii^ jjiituit; omin^'iuinu r ; "Yes." ! " And so you are alone together foi hours ?" " Of course ; why shouldn't wo be ?" "I wonder how you'd like me tc teach some pretty girl French, all alon< with her in a cozy parlor?" ! " Why should I mind ?" answeret Clara. " If I couldn't trust you tha fur, 1 should have nothing to do witl you." This retort disarmed Arnold Carev j in a moment. He began to think wha a villain he was for ever doubtinj Clara's loyalty, and for suggesting im ! propriety by his jealous suspicions. He asked her pardon, and when the; parted he was much happier than h I had been for days. Another six weeks flew by and in tha time what changes had come about i The French lessons were so frequent that if Arnold Carew saw Clara Moor for an hour in the whole week, he wa ] a lucky fellow. And what were Clara's real feeling at this time V Alas ! she had grown ic fatuated with Mr. Cox. She believe! that he had grown really fond of hei j Perhaps he was in a kind of way. Th French lessons had led to something s very like love-making that it would hav taken a very clever analyst to have tol 1 the difference. And, naturally, as he i feelings strengthened for her Frenc i master, they declined for Arnold Care' Francis Cox was a better teachcr ( , love than of French. Heaven help her! Infatuated crei - tnre that she was, she believed it poi I tible that thi? wealthy young ?cion of * crood family might make her lii? wifi ! Ov?r and over again he seemed on tl point of asking her to be his wifi 3 Sw??t honeyed words were they that L a whispered in her willing ear; beautiful rs. pictures of what married life should he n- lie drew in flowing speech. re He had few letters: hut twice a week ] re lie received an epistle directed in a a n. lady's handwriting. This had excited i ne Clara's jealousy. Yes. it hud come to t ge that, she was jealous of turn. st But a ready lie satisfied her on that , id head. j_ "Surely," he said, "a fellow can cor- i g- respond with his sister." ? e. That had been sufficient to satisfy her. ^ :i- One evening, however, matters ar- j, d. rived at a climax. s at She ha.I received a note from Arnold, le saying that he must see her that night ^ ti- without fail. She met him in the usual ^ place of meeting. He looked very le white and angry. j. lo "Clara," he said, " I will stand this . ?s no longer. You either give up the sol ciety of this lodger, or you give up me." * ;e " What do you mean ?" said Clara. /, ' I mean what I say," answered Ar- , d nold. " No one can serve two mastereo neither can a woman be trae to two it lovers." is " I'm not going to be domineered 11 over by any man," said Clara. *- " You will have to do one thing or the ?. it other in this case." answered Arnold ^ e Carew. a i. "Don't try anil bully uie," cried w n Clara, flushing up. ' 111 e " I'm not bullying you. It is useless 11 d to try and evade my determination, - Clani. Which are you going to do? a !- Give up these so-called French lessons, ni s or give me up?" in I, " I certainly shall not give up my n: a French," *he answered. ai ; ' Then good-bye," answered Arnold, pi - and without waiting for an answer?in- ct I, deed, without affording her time to an- di v swer?he strode away into the darkness, w When she had started to meet him cc - the wish had been in her heart that she ai t might tiiul an excuse to cast her lover y< s off; but now that he had taken the ini- a f tiative and had sternly a id abruptly pi r quitted her, leaving her " in maiden meditation f;':.cy free," she experienced lit very different sensations to what she had he ; anticipated. oc t The tears rushed to her eves, but she ]i; t suppressed them, and hurried home- te ward. wi "I wish with all my heart," she F; : said, " that Francis Cox would ask me of I this very night to be his wife." bu When she reached home she found mi that Francis Cox was absent. Fa > On the table of his sitting-room lay ev an open letter, in what Clara believed F< to be, from what he had told her th 1 1?io ciofiU-'o l^oniluTiH'iuc .1 ? > Most young ladies are inquisitive, th : find Clara Moore was no exception to tal the rule. She picked the letter up tir ' and read it. lie She had not perused three sentences sn i before she felt convinced it was from a cle sweetheart. A full perusal confirmed her suspicions beyond all doubt. "And so," she exclaimed, mentally, her cheeks burning with indignation 1 and shame, "and so he lias deceived as ' me." ?? The room seemed to swim round with her. She felt sick and faint. She an heard the street door open, and she raJ i composed herself with a great effort. } Francis Cox entered the room. :ia "Ah!" he exclaimed, "you have got r!'1 back early." > " Rather," she replied, coldly. | ln.( -! " You seem out of sorts, my wild W,1 1 tlower "?a name he had given her. | ; \\ nax is ine matter.' ; " You shouldn't leave your sister's ' P? letters about," answered Clara, bitterly. ^ Francis Cox colored up to the roots of his hair. *H' ; " I hope," he said, with composure, aJ' " you are not so dishonorable as to read . I my letters without my sanction V" 1?l " Quite dishonorable enough." an- i ^ swered Clara. "You are a nice person 11 to speak of mv dishonor; you have deceived me foully." ' " Then with many tears Clara poured e* l j forth her -wrongs. tu' " You told me your only correspond- ? : ent was your sister," she sobbed; "and ^ i , all the while it was your sweetheart, ! ; who is dying for the winter to come, ; ,),v when you are to be married. And yet 111 vou could lead me on. and pretend to be L fond of mo, ami teach me to grow fonil ' [ of you, and?oh, you are worse than * cruel, worse than cruel." i Here Clara Moore broke down in an 1 i agony of tears. Mr. Cox looked at her with an expression of mingled annoy-; 1 ance and compassion. > " Haw!" he said at last, assuming that ^ 1 air of allectation which he had ceased ; .? 1 to adopt when making love to the un-; happy village belle, " Haw! you are too . 1 : severe.I'm sure I never intended to lead , l1! 1 you to imagine I was seriously in love. ! If you've made that mistake I'm awfully 1 sorry, I'm sure; but. of course, you : . 1 know, you never could have imagined 11 ' I laid any idea of marrying you V" . 1111 ; ,4If you didn't mean that what right j : had you to pretend to care for me?", lf" | cried Clara. " You did everything but a 1 ask me to be your wife." ' " And. knowing our relative nositions." mJ ; answered Francis Cox, "you could not ^ iu your senses have supposed I should i t1 ever go us far as that. It was merely a : harmless flirtation to while away the ; " j dull hours, nothing more." 1 ])a "You coward!"' exclaimed Clara t.i; ' Moore ; and, casting a look of contempt t0 > at Mr. Cox, she quitted the room. W1 > Shame and indignation filled her heart. To think she had allowed this man to Ull 1 make a mere plaything of her ; to think ?? ' slio had cruelly neglected the noble-1 j j minded Arnold Carew for the sake of al.( ! an empty-headed, heartless fop. For ! the time being poor Clara Moore was ' |)a ! insane. She rushed from the house into the ilarkness of the night and made ,U( r her way to the river. Why should she : ;lll ! not end it there? She had lost Arnold; j]r she had been jilted and sneered at by j)C > the fine gentleman lodger; she would [ ? be the laugh of the village. Had she ?j committed an act of dishonor such as ' stamps a women as bad in the world's j j0 t eves, she could not have thought worse i ?!> 1: of herself. j ja: She stood on the towing-path, and ! 0f v prepared to take a fatal plunge. j w] t " Heaven forgive me!" she sobbed i wj a forth. "Arnold, Arnold, forgive my i ^j, * : cruelty; think kindly of me when I am 1 (.j gone." * j it v As these words escaped her lips she ' ul] p sprung forward, but in that same mo- m nieut a strong arm held her back from ! t what would have added a crime to her, ; t.., * comparatively speaking, trivial folly. ; ? " Clara ! what, in Heaven's name, : jr, e would you do ?" exclaimed her rescuer, fr s and in the sound of his voice she learn- sc ed that Arnold Carew was with her in |1( s the hour of her despair. aJ '* A week later Mr. Cox left the village. ju During that week, however, Clara Moore in * never set eyes upou his face again. r, e His conduct deserved what lie did not s| ? get?a good horse-whipping; but at the v/ 'o same time it taught our heroine a lesson 01 d that pretty and humble village maid ,1, ens may take to heart, viz., not to as- , '] h pire to the dignity of becoming grand w married city leaders of fashion because tl >f a young swell happens to smile upon 0| them. As a rule, those gentlemen are ; too selfish, and too great slaves of con ! ?- ventionality, to marry out of their own tj * aet, unless it be for " heaps of money." 3- A year later Arnold Carew was married to Clara Moore, and a better wife : w e. never lived than she who was known as i n ie "The Village Belle." ! h FACTS FOU THE CURIOUS. Women physicians practiced thoii rofession in Kirypt over :t,o00 yeai> i?o, and tlini, as now. there wore modi al schools that adopted the coeduca it'll jMtlll. The chamois, hounding over tho nountain. are indebted in no small derive t<i a species of pheasants. The >ird acts as n .-entinel, for as soon as it :ets sight of a man it whistles?upon tearing which the chamois, knowing the mnters to he near, sets out at full peed. The twinkling of tho stars is generlly admitted to be due to tho moisture 11 the upper air. M. Montignv, in a aper published in Lex holds that a ery pronounced twinkling of the stars idicates either commotion in the upper L'gions of the atmosphere or a sudden ill of temperature theiv, thus denoting lie conditions of an early appearance of ad weather. When si strong cast wind blows over lie Sea of Azov the waters retire in a relarkable manner, and the people living 11 one shore can cross dry-shod to the ther. But t his hazardous journey somemes involves the fate of Plmruoh. for sudden change of wind will bring the ater quickly back to its usual place, nd travelers are frequently swallowed p by the tickle waves. It is on record that in the year 1531 poor old man, residing in Tarentum, ear Naples, was the subject of a very larvelous change at the age of nearly inety. His skin peeled off, it is said, id a new, soft and smooth skin suplied its place: his muscles again be mie pjump ana yiemmg; me whiikics isap] >eared from his face, and tlie liite hairs from his head; the fresh >mpIexion of youth replaced the one, id dark, curly locks the other. Fifty >ars later he again became decrepit until second age; and lie died after he had issed his 150th year. Australia, with Tasmania, is only a tie less in size than Europe. The attest climate in the world probably curs in J he desert interior of Austrai. Captain Stuart hung a thermomer 011 a tree shaded from both sun and nd. It was graduated to 127 degrees threnheit: yet so great was the heat the air that the mercury rose till it irst the tube, and the temperature 1 list have been at least liJS degrees 1 ilircillicit?apparently the highest: er recorded in any part of the world. I ir tlirrto mnnflit; lit '1 i Tl Ktnnrt fnvirwl ! e mean temperature to be ovor 101 ' grees Fahrenheit in the shade. Neverdess, on the southern mountains and I Die-lands three feet of snow some-1 ues falls in a day. Snow-storms have ! en known to last three weeks, the i ow lying from four to lifteen feet in j ptli, and burying the cattle. The Turkish People. A Constantinople correspondent writes follows of the Turkish people: The mmouest form of a rich lady's cloak i entirely native as regards material d shape. It is a piece of heavy silk, : rely good in color, upon one end of ; rich formal and meaningless devices ! ve been worked in gold. Thccharac- j r of them suggests that in former days ! is cut-door garment consisted of two : eces, one a golden scarf for the head, : th pendant fringe and tassels, the ; lier a mantle of plain silk. In process \ time the scarf and tassels were i.ncor- j rated, as it were, in the mantle, sur-1 nng only as a cumbrous ornament, j is not necessary to describe the ap-! arauee of the Turkish woman thus I pareled. Every one knows how they J ride along like animated sacks, show- j ? more than enough of coarse white ! Hiking, ill-made French boots, or | liling yellow slippers. Not a few [ ;ar socks, always down at heel, often j tiling in the perennial mad. Fine | es, both gray and black, are com- | cm, and quite enough is seen i the features to assure one that j auty of face is not sparingly distrib-: ed. While lightly digressing in this ! -path I would point out the exceeding 1 irness of the race. The Turkish peas- j t lias a whiter skin than the Greek i wnsman. Southern Italians even are I [>r? dusky of complexion. Fair hair d light eyes abound in all classes, and, dess it bo a man evidently crossed !th Indian blood, you will never see a irk so brown of skin as are the vast njcritv of Greeks. In height and rei.gth of build, also, they are superior j a.l their subject peoples, excepting; e Albanian. This magnificent race, j e Skipetar, is the Pathau of Europe, : it vastly above its Asiatic, antitype in' I t ie finer qualities of man. No nn- j ejudiced observer can doubt that the j banian, with all his shortcomings and ; s faults, is the most hopeful, as lie is j sst interesting, of the nationalities j bjeet to Turkey. Above all, he is ar- j .tic, permeated with a sense of litness ! d beauty, which ho displays in man r, in dress, in all and every one of the my arts cultivated by this nationality, lich the utilitarian Greek calls bar rous. Rulilwr Balls. The process of making hollow rubber j lis, used by children as playthings, is j lite curious, and may bo interesting j those not familiar with it. A Holyoko ! *itt*r thus describes it: These balls have a solid surface, are j ide by a different procoss from that of: iking tlie soft rubber balls which art; | rforated by an opening, and, of course, c much more linn, durable and elas-1 . The sheets of rubber prepared for ' lis are cut into st rij?s of double con-1 x shape. The edges of the strips are I listened with a preparation of rubber ' d naptha, by which they are joined ' mly together, three of the strips j ing used for one ball. J Tin's 1111 rf nf tlie wnrlr is ilnnp liv rls, ami a skillful girl can oarn about I .50 per day. When the strips are iued together, the ball is very near [ e shape of a Brazil nut. Before the st opening is closed a small quantity carbonate of ammonia is put inside, Inch, when subjected to strong heat, ill make the rubber expand and till out e ball mold. The opening is then osed with the adhesive mixture, and is placed in an iron mold of the size id shape of the ball desired. The olds are packed into frames, iu which icy are subjected to the heat of a vulnizer. They are kept in place in the frame by 011 rods along the side, and when the ame is full iron plates at the end are Tewed down tightly upon the molds to ild them in place. These iron plates e about three-fourths of an inch thick, id so strong is the expansive of the olds that they bend this thick iron >d into a curve. If one of the molds lould work out of place while vuleaning is in process, the mold would fly it with a noise like the report of a iizen 2?istols, and the work is spoiled, he action of the heat does the rest, i hen the molds are opened they contain le perfect round balls, with 110 mark f the places whore the pieces were laced. The slight ridge made by the 10]d is ground (>11' by a stone used for lat purpose, and the ball ia donw. George Eliot says, " No ona can 1 ise on an empty stomach." "We were ot aware that there was so much unger in the world. LADIES' DEPARTMENT. \)-M?iunt Ndlr* for Women. < Seven hundred thousand women it! j Franco and Italy are employed in the I manufacture of raw silk from the cocoon. A Iauly who died in St. Albans, Vt., J recently, left live sisters, aged ninetyi one, eighty-seven, eighty-live, eighty| one and seveutv-six veal's. Mrs. Livermmv says the sisters of ! charity compose the grandest army of ! women the sun ever shone upon, j During the census in Switzerland i>17 I women refused to tell their ages, and ! each one was returned at forty-six and : lined ?1.20. ! The wife of Mr. Yoshida, minister ! from Japan, speaks English in what the Washington ladies call a pretty style. " When the women want the hallot,'' , says the Boston flerahl, " they will get it, as they get pretty much everything j else they hanker after." A little pirl who applied to <^ueen I Victoria for her autograph received the ! following: "For of such is the kingj doni of heaven. Victors Ttegina." ! The wno ot a uonnecucui- iuruier hum ! the replication of being the best dogbreaker in the State. She hunts with them, and is an excellent shot. With | all this she is a good housekeeper. I Miss Marianne North, a pretty Engj lisli artist, is making a tour of the world ; with very high credentials for the purpose of painting the distinctive flowers : that grow wild. Sir Joseph Hooker, director of the botanical gardens at Kew, ' vouches for her artsttic powers, her ' botanical knowledge and her intrepidity j as an explorer. A woman died in the medical college hospital at Nashville, Tenn., recently, i who is said to have twice enlisted in the I regular army during the war, and to i have served for some months each time j before her sex was discovered. Hor I name was Jennie Robertson, but she . was more familiarly known as " Soldier Charlie." The queen of the Belgians saved her' self from a serious accident the other day by her coolness and presence of mind. She was driving four Hungarian horses, and was about to cross a railway track, when a car detached from a train nearly ran over the queen, horses and all. Queen Isabella, of Spain, has been an assiduous frequenter of the grand opera at Paris ; her presence in a proscenium box with beautiful Spanish women has been oue of the chief attractions. Her ex-majesty dresses in blue satin, always displays a large number of diamonds and feathers, and appears to gain ten pounds every week. A Chicago young lady, who says that she is twenty-eight, is not ill-looking, and is an only daughter, whose father has made a will in her favor, also says.] that when girls in fashionable society got tired of their set thev do not want to marry voting men of that circle, but j really look out for poor young men who ! do not care for dancing parties, and who want to say at home for the rest of their ; lives. j A San Francisco woman partially lost the power of speech through a stroke of: paralysis. Taking advantage of her : incoherent and grotesque visage, her husband sent her to an asylum as a lu- j natic, and took possession of her prop- j erty. She was kep~ in durance seveial j months before the truth wan dis- [ covered. A jury awarded her 81,0001 damages. " I don't believe in these secret so-; cieties," said one lady to another. "That's very singular," replied the! other. " Your husband is a Forrester, j a Knight of Pythias, and a Knight of j Honor, and you will have at least 810,000 I when he dies." " But what good does j all that do me," wasthc tearful response, j "when he never dies." And the poor; creature burst into teal's. Anna Bracket, writing to the Xcir > Eu(jl<t)ul Journal of JZduaUtmt, speaks of j the subdued voice in which English i schoolgirls sing, and says that the j English girl seems to think that to? abandon herself to impulse in any direc-' tion is unladvlike. She also sneaks of! the great number of exercise books1 which the pupilsnse, ami of the care j anil accuracy with which they are cor- j rected and annotated. Spring mill Summer WaiiIi'iik nixl Xctv ('llttOll Dl't'kh ( CHIiIm. The new wollen fabrics for spring and i summer dresses arc twills of light qual-1 itv, or else they have a smooth, even j surface that is very loosely woven. To make such goods of the pv.rest wool and of least weight has been the object with manufacturers this winter, as the various! cotton goods have been brought to such perfection that they have almost driven summer woolens out of use. Hence there are many new stuffs as transparent as the sheerest muslins, yet of the pliaut wools that make graceful clinging draperies. Bayonnaise is one of these fabrics that has long been a favorite in black for ladies who dress in mourning; this is now shown in white, drab. French rrrrtv nn1f> lilup find ntliov rlnlienti'* shades, for making the entire dress on a silk foundation. Nuns' veiling and the tine French bunting, with many qualities of what is called wool-muslin, are shown again in all the colors used last year, and in some new tints, such as maize, gray and olive. Thicker wool goods, sufficiently heavy for the early spring months, are shown in stripes, both lengthwise and bayadere, plaids ombre (shaded), shepherds' checks, and bordered patterns. The colors in these are very rich, and are fiAmlti'iiAJ L-n llirtf HIUUUU^ i 1/J111'ill*. II, r>w iiuu tJi* ^ jmwduct* a quiet effect, notwithstanding a great deal of red and yellow is used, j There are suggestions of Oriental tastes in the richness of these colors, yet the English fancies seen in cheviots and homespuns are also recalled by the dark grounds slightly illuminated l>y threads of brilliant colors. Ombre, or shaded figures, stripes, and plaids prevail, and to graduate a single color through all its tones, from the darkest to the lightest, is a marked feature of new fabrics of all qualities of wool, and also of silk ' for trimmings. Among the new colors I is Vandyck red, which is darker and softer than the cardinal shades so long used; a great deal of reseda, or mignonette-color, is revived?a grav-green tiut that contrast prettily with miuy shades; porcelain blue is lovely with white, and also combines well; then- is, ; besides, a great deal of olive and of clear deep green, with the natural beige tints so long used, and a new vivid yellow almost as bright as that of Marshal Neil roses. For traveling dresses and nice wool suits there are heavy beiges and light j camel's-hair stuffs, with the ground made up of mille ray stripes?the merest 1 1 threads of olive, drab, reseda, or pori celain blue, alternating with cream I white lines?and provided on one selvedge with a solid stripe for bordering in some rich shade that trims well. This border is often woven like Chudda to give zig-zag herring-bone effects. Pin-head checks sometimes take the | place of the narrow stripes on the body j of these goods. The cross stripes, ! called bayadere, are shown in <erv j quiet and also in very gay coloi* for combining with plain goods. The I plates accompanying theso show very graceful short dresses, with a &uigle skirt and double-breasted basque. The skirt is covered with flounces of ; two widths, the wider tlouuees of the t i bayadere being double the width of the (I narrow frills of a single color. The basque is of the single shade, with col!.?% olid /'iiffc nf tlm ytriiuw Sometimes those stripes arc used iliagonally, and sometimes lengthwise as ! well as horizontally; they are also .: effective for lining and facing plain , i stuffs, only glimpses of the lining being ! seen inside the revers and other retrousse bands that are shown on new ; costumes. The woolen plaids, lik? those in cotton goods, are 110 longer Scotch tartans, but are mixtures of Madras colors, with the English designs in cloths worn by ! xl AAm^itin/1 tvifli ; S^UIllU'lJIC'II, HUU tutnuuic v,uui'(iuvu ] fanciful French taste; thus, the large I plaids will be made up of small checks, the inner block Anil be a single color, and tho bars will give the illuminated | threads of Vandyck red, green, etc. ; There are nlso half-transparent fabrics that mix these colors up without any apparent design, yet produce a very rich ! effect. Mixed silk nnd wool stuffs for i parts of suits pre shown in block patI terns, each block half an inch square, ' one block with satin surface being next a woolen one; contrasts of color are in ennli ns ilnvk nrppn ' with old gold, Yandyck red with blue, I olive with pale blue, and white with i cream, blue, or pink. Theso will be j used for basques of dresses that have I plain wool for the skirt. The new cotton goods repeat all the ' rich colors and outre effects seen in woolens, while for their varied designs eveiything known to embroidery and to decorative art has been called into use. The loveliest outline designs used by , needle-wonfen have been copied in porcelain blues, olive, green and rose on white grounds; the autumn leaves of i American forests have been canied to French manufacturers to suggest new coloring; the Indian pink of the far West, the palm-tree of the South, and : the stateliest Egyptian models are : placed beside those taken from old Nan. kin porcelain on this pretty toile d'Al, sace. Yet quaintest of all are the correct reproductions of designs used in the same factories one hundred years ago. Samples and bits of the goods made j each year are kept by the manufaci turers, and among those lately copied | are broken plaids of indigo blue, 1 with gay flowers strewn upon them, j while others show tiny fruits hanging ! from the bough; one of blocks divided ! diagonally into pink and gray has white flowers upon it, while blocks of two old ! blue shades have red buds or yellow. , A new design not taken from the old represents a "Confused Picture Gallery" (with gay pictures in their frames, thrown together on a dark ground), and is thus catalogued in the merchants' albums of designs. A soft prettyfigured goods, with India designs and colors, has the popular name of niousseline de l'lnde; it is intended to take the place of organdy muslin, and lias less dressing; fruits, thistles and nuts are among its quaint patterns. C'renounes for shirtings have outline designs on white, showing dragon-flies, Japanese, umbrellas, animals' heads, saddle-' bags and horseshoes, with the usual dots, diamonds and stripes.?Harper's Bazar. Construction of Snow flakes. In the frozen clouds, liigh up in the atmosphere, the snow appears to be j formed of very slender crystals of ice. I "When the small drops of water, which | form mists and ordinary clouds, be- j come congealed, it is probable that j these drops do not preserve their I spheroidal, but that they fall an instant J and take the shape of a tilainent. which , freezes concurrently with its physical j transformation. By virtue of the law i of crystallization these small tilaments { of ice become cohesive at angles of; sixty degrees, and form the figures i which, though so numerous, still apper tain to the same geometrical order. Glaisher, in his ascent (balloon) of i June 2(5, 18(53, encountered at 13,000 j feet an immense cloud of snow, extend- J ing to a thickness of nearly one mile. ! It was a trulv wonderful sight. This ! snow was composed entirely of small i and perfectly-formed crystals of an ex- j treino delicacy. The points were visi- j 1.1c, separate from each other, follow-1 ing two systems of crystallization, for ! the angular intervals were some at! sixty degrees and others at ninety de-1 gives. i The construction of snowHakes has j long attracted the attention of observ-1 ers. Kepler speaks of their structure t with admiration; and other natural i philosophers have endeavored to determine their cause; but it is only since i the laws of crystallization in general! have been ascertained that it has been j possible to throw any light upon this l subject. In a circle of all the polygons which j can be inscribed there is but one whose j nvr< onlliil tn its t'ftdins. Tlmfc is ! the regular hexagon, or figure with six ; sides. This hexagonal figure is traced I upon the flowers of the field, and we j meet with it also in the crystallization ' of ice and snow, in the analysis of all' the forms presented to our notice. The '< tendency of ice to take n crystalline shape is made evident by the fern-like leaves noticeable on window-panes dnr- ing winter when water becomes eongealcd upon them. The examination of the figures of; snow leads to impressions not less marked as to the existence of geometry, j number and beauty in the works of, nature. It is not merely a few ice; flowers, such as have been remarked in i the slender snowflakes, but there are i many lmndred different kinds, all eon-. st rue ted upon the same fundamental | angle of sixty degrees.?Cam i I lit Flam i mar ion. 11 Ancient Dentistry. It may be safely asserted that the j aneients certainly cleaned the teeth and used tooth powder. If the necessary ! attention were given, relics would be j found in the graves of the women. The j word odontotrinnna, the tooth-scouring stuff, or tooth powder is found in ancient Greek,and in the Greek pharmacopeia is j applied to tooth powder. It is interesting j to find that the aneients had made some advance in dentistry. A gentleman oc-1 cupied himself in collecting ancient Hel- j lenic skulls, wishing to show that they ' did not differ in shape from those now 1 carried in Greece. Among several hundred of these skulls, some perhaps 2.11(10 years old, he found two with "stopped" teeth. One was tilled with a mass as hard as stone, which, on analysis, j proved to be hydraulic lime, made from ; volcanic ash, Kantorin earth and lime, j Marvelous as it may seem, the hollow of j one tooth in the other skull had been I filled with gold thread or gold-leaf. The ' , metal used was pure. The skull itself, though deprived of the stopping, is now in the Archceological museum. The fashion of earning closed um. brellas in such a reckless manner that pedestrians oceaoionallv collided with th* ferrule snd, prevailed in th? land of obelisks 5,000 years ago. At least wo judge so, for artificial eyes have been .found among the mummies of ancient T^gypt.? XoiTUitown Herald. FARM AND HOUSEHOLD. Too Much liny. Filling ft horse's rack with hay, as somo persons do, and permitting a constant supply to remain before the animal, is one of the most probable means of producing disease, and the most positive in rendering animals uni fit for fast work. Large supplies of hay j have the effect of making the stomach | large anu wean, ine ueuy in course ox | time becoming pendulous. Not only ! does the stomach increase in capacity, ! but the large intestines become enj larged.?American Cultivator. Knife the Cut Worm. There is really but one way to save the corn crop if the plants are once atj tacked by cut worms?that is to dig the worms out and kill them. It is not a difficult task, nor is it very costly. We ! presume that a fourth part of the loss I sustained would be the full equivalent ' of all the labor it would cost to dig up i the cutworms and kill them. The | worm does the mischief at night, and j before morning burrows in the ground : near the spot where its depredations | have been committed. A practiced eve ' will readily discern the entrance into! j the hiding place, a small round hole into j ; which the worm has passed and lies concealed. The way to bring the pest! I up is to thrust a pointed knife down j j the hole and lift out the earth to the j | depth of two or three inches, when the j I malefactor will lie exposed to view and i | can be instantly destroyed. We have j | known of large tields being cleared by \ j this process at a cost of labor so slight j i as to bear no comparison with the loss i | that would have otherwise resulted. .Modern Gospel at? to Coru. 1. Prepare the land thoroughly by' harrowing and rolling. The roller I I breaks up hard lumps of earth which 1 ; the harrow passes over. A thorough j preparation of the land is as essential as j a liberal application of manure. 2. It is of the first importance to se- j lect seeds which are the best adapted to ; soil and climate. Experiments have j I shown that of two distinct varieties; ! of dent or flint corn, treated in all re- j 1 spects alike and raised upon the same ! ! field, one has produced fifty bushels of ! grain to the acre more than the other. ; The best and most economical way to ; * _ V i J I 1 l ! ascertain wan*, variety ui cum u> 1 suited to a- given fiuria is to ..test different varieties upoo different plots. 'Tliese | plots should be as far apart as practicable to prevent mixing. Plots thirtythree feet square, one-fourth of anacze, are large enough for the purpose, and j the yield thereon is easily <?mpS0tfc"*~ 3. Drill in the seed, six, or even three inches apart. At the first hoeing ; plants may be cut out so as to leave the ; distance between those remaining suit ; ed to the size of the vai'iety of corn planted. [ i. A narrow, heavy roller may be adi vantageously used upon the drills after ; the seed is dropped. This insures a ! close contact of the soil with the seed, j i and an earlier germination. 5. Do not use a plow after the seed is" 1 planted. G. Keep the surface of the g^^nd mellow, and all weeds subdued. 7. Cultivate shallow and flat with cultivator and hoe.?Rural New Yorker. Floors lor Poultry Houhch. Experience has convinced us that a large number of poultrymen have mistaken ideas about the kind of flooring that should be used in poultry-houses. The habit, as it was rears ago, ot Having boarded floors proved geneiallv ruinous to the fowls, particularly those confined during the warm season. Boarded floors absorb much of the moisture and vola- j tile properties of the droppings, and no ! amount of scrubbing can make them fresh or free from vermin and bad odors. Some poulterers consider wooden floors better adapted to secure dryness, but this is a mistake unless there is a free circulation of air between the ground and boards. If sunlight and air cannot penetrate between there is nothing to prevent moisture from settling there and nothing to disjjel or counteract the unhealthy odors arising from the humidity of the soil and boards. The best and most natural flooring for henhouses, all things considered, is clean dry earth upon an earth floor; it is better than any solid flooring of ' wood, stone, brick or asphalt; pulver-j ized loam or road dust, mixed with air slacked lime and plentifully scattered over the floor until raise8 a foot or more above the outside. The droppings by night or day are deodorized by the loose earth, and their fertilizing properties are kept fresh and valuable. The floor should be scraped at least once a week [ with a close rake, and the earth sifted from the droppings. The manure should be stored in barrels for future use or scattered directly upon the land. ?J'onltn/ Journal. Iti'Cipt'N. Salt Pork and Aitm:s.? Cut a half pound of nicely-cured pork in slices a } quarter of an inch thick, fry thorn slowly I until brown in a doe]) frying-pan and take them up on a hot dish. Meantime wash, wipe and slice six sour apples, and when the pork is taken up put them into the frying-pan to cook until thinarc tender, but not broken. Lay them in the dish with the pork ami serve them hot. Stewed Beets.?Wash two or three ! largo boots without breaking the skin i or removing the topstalks or roots ; boil i them an hour in boiling water and salt: j then pool and slice them and stew them ' an hour in the following sauce : Mix | together in a saucepan over the fire j one tablespoonful each of butter, tlour ; and vinegar; gradually stir in a pint of | boiling water; season the sauce with a saltspoouful of salt and a quarter of a saltspoonful of pepper. A Hen's-nest ProoiNo.?Pare and coro twelve apples; till them with sugar, I white or brown: stick a clove in each i apple, or scatter over them the thinly | slimilled peel <>t" one lemon. 3I"ke a : rich eustavd of two quarts of new milk, eight yolks of eggs, and ten ounces of white sugar; flavor the custard deli- ' cately with vanilla, unless the lemon already with the apples will sutlice in your estimation. The tastes of different families diverge so widely that a margin must always be left in the most e\act recipe for such mollifications a- shall render it more or less palatable, according to circumstances. The pudding i needs careful baking. Let the ?i:v be j slow, but kept up to the same heat with which it is started. More puddings are spoiled in the baking than any other way. The following naive promise was j offered as an irresistible temptation to a fair young maid: "I thank yon." saiil she to her suitor, "but I can't leave' j home. 1 am a widow's only darling ; I no husband can ever equal my parent in I kindness." "She is kind," replied the i wooer: "but be my bride and we will | ' all livti together, and sew if 1 don't ba*t 1 ! your mother." The butchers of Milan have invented ! a process for killin.it their cattle by launching a ^projectile against their foreheads: they oppose throat-cutting. A SCARRED VETERAN. ; n Throe Bullet* in His Body?A Remarkable }<iory of Escape nnd Imprisonment. j " How did you lose all the fingers of i ! your right hand?" a man was asked in j a drug store in Yonkers. " Shot off," he replied. " When the ' j war broke out I enlisted as a private, ; T1 and the first actual service I was en-1 1 gaged in was the battle of Vicksburg, j Tl where I was wounded in the hip and had I the fingers of my right hand taken I off. The rebels took me prisoner. I was transferred from one point to ! another till at last they landed me in ! ( i Andersonville. There I received " a i j wound back of the ear. The ball went j ^ ! into my mouth and lodged directly back j of the ear. Fed it ?" as he placed j one of the reporter's fingers on the spot j j indicated. The ball was felt, it being ! J about one-fourth of an inch from the 1 j surface. " The ball don't pain me any," j | ho continued. "Soon after this I fell into the hands j of Kirby Smith, aud while trying to' wc ! escape from him I was actually forced j I intr> flip Rin (rramln vivpr. Prpfprrincr ' i to die by drowning, I struck out for 1 ! all I was worth. Before I had swam a j great distance several shots were fired 1 i at me, one of which struck me in the hip. Feel that ?" placing the reporter's m] hand on the spot indicated, where a j large ball could be felt. " Well, I kept fri right on. and soon succeeded in reach-1 Ci ing the Mexican shore, but found that I had jumped out of the frying pan into wa the tire, for after wandering about for i p\ some time, a band of Mexican ' greasers' i i caught sight of me. I started on a -s ; keen run; but they, all being mounted, j V soon overtook me and called out to me to halt. I paid no attention to this, and j ; a shot from a blunderbuss struck me -in j ?n the breast and brought me to the,les ground. The wound has not healed, j < rr f a iWcnnnna no+nrn nf PAT ?1 lug bV LiiW UUtUAV V* , ?v? the copper bullet. They then is < siirrounded mo and lashed me to one of j { their horses, without paying any atten- i ric tion to my wound, which wa? bleeding. str Loosening one . haiii I succeeded in ptl stopping the flow ol blood by plafcing a , red handkerchief oveic Htxifipfu T was j compelled to ride in for ^ -ola two (lays, only being reliev^flPjj|jtffc halted for dinner or suppcA third day the whole band was suri'LMjc'd and captured by Mexican governm^f^ troops, and they, being the common ;:?3 enemy of everybody in general, were j sentenced to be hanged, and, of course, ^ 0 I was expected to have to share the 110 same i?te as the rest. They were taken, 3 one at a ?uue, and strong up. The rope un was put about neck, when I cried be< oulwhichonly seemed to ?ymuse those j mo Eat*gg cnarge 01 ine nangmg. -1 nap-1 ?* peheS~t0-&ava .some old papers in my inside shirt pocket;?>na -Oh hold- to ing them up I was permitted to go Tin- I ] hung, but was placed in prison until a p'a further investigation into my case could j 8p, be made. They kept me imprisoned j pu for nearly twelve years, which was owing i Tt somewhat to the turbulence existing in , g& Mexico during that period. I was finallv j jgj released, about a year ago, through | the efforts of the American consul, who Sic claimed my release on the ground of my i I a being an American and a soldier in the Union army. I was transported to Santa j ^ Fe, New Mexico, from there to Omaha, ' * from that point to Chicago, and from , ? ~ Chicago to New York, where I arrived a , <.j few days ago. " "While in New York my wound was I tl treated by Dr. A. B. Mott, who said he ! He could remove the ball from my chest, { but that it would endauger my life. He | told me he thought it would eventually j work out, and that the wound would an Leal. The tirst thing I did on reaching Te New York was to ascertain if my father : and mother, whom I left in Palmyra, K were still living, and learned by letter , that they were both alive, but liart given | .* me up for dead seven years ago." The veteran, who describes himself as j 801 William Bray, arrived in Yoiikers about so a week ago, and was well taken care of ' by members of the Gi and Army and others. The only thing which bothered cr] him in relating his career was dates, as Ai during his long confinement he had become indifferent to time.?Xcc York ja] SuH- _ ____ ' pe Extraordinary Scenes at an Execution. At the recent hanging of Joseph N. 0f Thibault, for the murder of Charlotte to Hill, in September last, in Annapolis 0f county. Nova Scotia, some extraordinary fr( scenes were witnessed. All through the night little knots of persons collected ^j1( .together at the street comers, and one jia or two attempts were made on the jail th fence,but the constables drove on me per- wj sons making the attack. Toward day- mi light teams of even* description began , mi to pour into the towm, and soon after six o'clock the crowd began to gather in front of the jail inclosure. Many of those coming from the conn-. ]j, try were inflamed with liquor, and it m, became evident that the threatened de- p( strnction of the fence would take place jn if a determined front was not shown by jr. the constables, about a dozen of whom were on duty. With shouts and yells to the mob rushed toward the fence. Cler.wnmii ftitiyniw Wmmt ilXVil, V.W?OU4??1VO **" Ui stinted, entreated, and tried in every way to restrain tlie throng, but all to no es purpose. Huge beams were used as jjc battering rains, and once an opening re; was made, polos and hands were used, ai; and the whole front of the high, strong 01) fenee was in a few minutes torn down. ov The people tore at the boards like 00 maniacs, beating and trampling them fr( under foot with cries of rage. pi; While this wild disorder was occur en ring outside, Thibault was walking ou slowly ii]) and down his cell, striving to tu fortify himself. A few minutes before eisrht o'clock the sheriff and his deputy, OT with the constable, entered the cell, and gV Thibault's arms were pinioned, the fatal a' noose was placed around his neck, and vo he walked slowly out. His breath came and went in great gasps, and his cheeks th grew livid, flc walked with downcast wi eyes and heavy stt*ps, seeming not to su notice the sea of upturned faces or the t0] gallows. He was led up the steps and stood on the scaffold. A priest stood ]ji close beside him, holding his hand and Oi uttering words of consolation and prayer, which latter the doomed man j\, repeated after hint. t}r The rope was attached to a hook and f0, an end was tied over the cross-beam. >, The crowd were silent as the sheriff read the death warrant. Then the black j.{t cap was drawn down, the noose was ad- ,n. justed, and Thibault was gently pushed a? on t<? the drop. A moment later the 0f rope was cut and the drop fell. Not the fai slightest motion of his body wasobserv- js abio after the fall, though death did not 0f immediately ensue. The crowd began to surge in. Some one urged them " for God's sake to restrain themselves in the i presence of death," and some fell . back abashed. The pulse of the dying jj1( man did not cease to beat for about , , fourteen minutes after the fall. Seven- sj teen minutes after the fall the body was ^ cut down. The crowd, which numbered j,0 about 1,(100, among whom were women and children, then quietly dispersed. Sm in " The mainspring ot' Italian music in the eighteenth century," says a recent g*w' writer, !" was the exclusive and paa- An sionate worship of the human voice." Frs Italian music has experience*! a change. Its mainspring now is in a box. and is worked with a handle. The Working Men. ie noblest men that live on earth, A.re men whoee hand3 are brown with toil, ho, backed by no ancestral birth, new aowu me woo<is ana till tlie bou; And win thereby a prouder fanio Tlian follows kings' or warriors' nam*. le working men, whatc'er their task, To carve the stone, to bear the hod, icy wear upon their honest brows The royal stamp and seal of God; And brighter are their drops of sweat Than diamonds in a coronet. xl bless the noble working men, Who rear the cities of the plaio; ho dig the mines and build the ships, And drive the commerce of the main; God bless thee, for their swarthy handa Have wrought the glory of all landa. ?George Dunkeli. HUMOROUS. The neatest thing in Bilks?Pretty >men. Funny items are made by adroit turns the humor-wrist. Michigan has produced a pig with a i. mi ?_ n t.. -i 1---3 ULK. J.ma buoiuu utj.cueciveu. Three periods pf life?Youth, mumps; ddle age,bumps; old age,dumps. Some of the most timid girls are not ghtened by a loud bang.?Lowell tuen. A. Massachusetts newspaper says man ,nts but little here below zero.? cagune. The Syracuse Standard knows how it itself and exclaims: " The best nation all is vaccination." Dharle's Lamb remarked of one of his tics: " The more I think of him, the s I think of him." Horn is the worst used of all the eals. No matter how fruitful it is, it only grown to have its ears pulled. Subject of debate by an Arkansas agultural society: Was Samson as ong as a bunch of red onions?? ick. ' I had no time to stuff the chicken," jlogizcd a landlady. "Nevermind, dam ; it's tough enough as it is," reSl,the boarder. jfv '"roy girl who has been deaf since regained her hearing through u w^n'pof a handsome young i v \ \ '-d her case. He sat wn beside ...:r and began telling hei (V good-look. u0' she was.?Boston Fort, .figa Nothing beats lightning for speed, 888 less it be the way a boy jumps out of w| 1 in the morning, when, after hie SX ?ther has shouted herself hoarse, he us the trwKt-oiJhe old man's boot-s ? - ? KB infully, ana aisfefcd her if she^OMW^B ell bashful. She said she nlfcftrt qai^ gB1 ich, and spelled it b-a-s-h-f-o-o-LJj, len he looked uneasily at her and be; ': n to wonder if she were unutterably lorant jr superlatively sarcastic. " EASY SOLD." ;hed Hi. Jones: " My dear 3Ii? May, 4 reamed an auctioneer, one day, Cried 'going, going, gone.' liought I was the slave he sold d you?you bought me with thy gold To kneel before thy throne." 'on're eisv ?jold," smiled sweet Hiss M?y, * 'or when 1 heard the fellow say lOUTO going, (juiuy, |,uuc, bought, alas, he little knows 's selling one who never goea, And?" 3Ir. Jone.i had llown. ?Xonistcncn Herald. It is a nice thing to be very bright, > cl to give what is supposed to be a ry witty answer to every query, but inetiraes one gets caught in his own ip. " What is a crime ?" asked the > ' ave professor in a theological college. 2 I crime!answered the wit oI tne * iss, "why, it is when a man does mething." " Then," said the profesr, as he looked over his glasses at the uth, "I think no one could accuse v . " n, Mr. Brown, of ever committing ?> j| lme-" , i Iniliau who Says He Killed Coster. JJ, A correspondent at Miles City, Monla, sends several Northwestern pars a statement by Rain-in-the-Face, e Indian chief who General tster in the memorable Indian fight June 21, LS7l3. From that day Qr, this there has been a " sort mystery hanging about the affair^-^i >m the fact that not a man from Gene- i 1 Custer's band escaped death to tell e story of its fate, and the historian s no other source from which to fill '% e page than the liorible imaginings rich clustered around the dead and iitilated bodies of the gallant com- 5 imler and his troops, heightend by e smoldering rains of the Indian ^ llaces. to?capture which they paid the nalty of their recklessness with their *es. While the correspondent was in the erchandising house of J. J. Graham at I >rt Keogh, three Indian chiefs, Bain-the-Face, Two-Eoads and Spotted igle, who surrendered to General iles last spring, came in, as is the cusm, being encamped only two miles j ray, on Tongue river, for the purpose ' conversing with William Courtenay, e chief clerk and interpreter of the ^ tablishment, in whom the Indians repously believe. Mr. Courtenay was ^ tiding' Whit taker's " Life of Custer," ;d on tm;.l^0' the leaves of the book -*"? e of the Indians caught sight of his ij .ti picture, which he immediately re- 3 gnized. They then took the volume mi Mr. Courtenay and found all their lotographs, but exhibited very little lotion of pleasure or otherwise until e of them turned a page and the pic re of General Castor was revealed. At this Rain-in-the-face became % eatly excited, going tlirough all the rations of the war dance, and giving ;.3a Sioux war whoop at the top of his .V^S ice. After he was through with his Id demonstration, but, still exhibiting i^ja e greatest auger, he struck the picture -2 th his hand, and, with a demoniacal eer on his face exclaimed, in the Sioux ague: "I killed him. I made inv holes in him. He once took my >crty : I took his life. I ui glad I did." i being told by a bystander that General ister was still living, Rain-in- the.ce became very violent, and hissed ? rough liis teeth. -'Your tongue is ."S rked," which is the Sioux figure for ?'ou lie." Converging, ho said: " I vis- tj <1 his grave. I am glad I killed him. -?W 1 was bad to my people. He killed my warriors." It is a superstition long the Sioux that by eating the liver v tin* valorous victim the warrior obnod all his cunning and prowess. Thi3 4 said to be the first authentic account Custer's death ever given. - The Increase in Suicides. The following are Professor Bertili's statistics respecting tiio increasein 1 number of suicide, in different imtries. A\'hy, however, a Dane mild be so far more anxious to make end of himself than any other human ing, it would bo difficult to explain. every million of persons: have in.-n jw-il ironi Annual)*-. Italy t?> lS7s f;oni :>0to 37 Ifc'i'im K'U t?. I'.'c I'vm 3j:o tiS Urit.auii io js("s 0Ctt? 70 JouanaXorv.uy..l.-j(ii>77 rem 3nto SO stria IS'jii fr. | >; - oia 70 to moe 1*>j7 to iv'7 A2 to 119 l-L'"tois?s;itoi3S riuiark 1s,(<; t.> ]>; . ih.m 213 to 2o8 iti 11 Stati-s Is i/> To 1*7 > ji'oiu 107 to 163 uorGerman iiiatts ls3.? te 1 *7?liotn 117 to 2S0 *