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r- ' mmmmmmmmm . ABBEVILLE PRESS AND BANNER ! \ -^jtggg BY HUGH WILSON. ABBEVILLE, S. C.. WEDNESDAY, APEIL 25, 1883. NO. 45. VOLUME XXVII. |||| ? : i "" '-VnSfrM THE KING'S MOTTO. A lovtT (rave the weddinc ring Into the goldsmith's hand. "Grave nie," ho said, " a tender thought Within the golden band." The goldsmith graved, With careful art? "Till death us part." i The wedding bell rang gladly oat, I Tho husband said, " 0. wife, I Together we shall share tho grief, \ The happiness of life. I I give to thee i My hand, my heart, I Till Death us part." 'Twas she that lifted now hi* hand, (0, love.that thi* should bo!) Then on it placed the golden band, And whispered tenderly: " Till Death us join, Lo, thou art mine And I am thine !" " And when Death joins we never more Shall know an aching heart, TVia Viriflnl r\f tfint lovfl Death 1 as no i~.o-.ver to part. Tluit troth will bo For thee and me Eternity." Soup the hill and down tho hill, ^ Through fifty changing years, They shared each other's happiness, They dried each other's tears. Alas! alas! That Death's cold dart Such love can part! But one sad dny she stood alone Beside his narrow bed ; She drew the ring from off her hand, And to the goldsmith said: " Oh, man, who graved With careful art, 'Till Death us part,' "Now grave four other words for me, ' Till death us join.' " He took The precious golden baud once more. With solemn, wistful look, And wrought with care, For love, not coin, "Till Deathns join." A TRIP TO WOODYILLK. "If Syra is as pretty at sixteen as she was at six, be sure and send her to me to spend the summer. My husband's nephew, Eustace Gaynor, is here, and I should like to have him make her acquaintance. It would be a good thing for Syr a." Thus ran the postscript of Mrs. Dora Smith's letter to her niece, Mrs. Lawton, who, seventeen years before, had married and left her home with her aunt to reside in the city. Aunt and niece had been almost* uninttrruptedly separated since. ^ The letter found Syra Lawton at the end of her first season, " Pcachvheeks " he* father calied her; her mother's title for her was "Rosebud." You would not have ditectod a flaw prol)ably in the girl's health, after her season of dancing and late suppers ; but there was a slight languor and indifferent appetite. And then came Aunt Dora's letter. Just the thing !" said Mr. Lawton. "Post Syra right off, Nellie. She has had enough fashionable folly for this year. Send her right up to Aunt Dora, among the blueberry pastures!" But Mrs. Lawton hesitated. . " I don't know as Syra would like it," she sail. She remembered the great kitchen at Oaklets, where most of her youth was spent, and it didn't seem likely that pretty Syra, playing waltzes with a dainty touch in the next room, would be contented there. To be sure, Aunt Dora had a whole, comfortable and pleasant house ; but sho was very decided in her opinion that girls ought to ham to be good housekeepers, and her whole forenoons and many if her afternoons were spent in that same comfortable Kitcnen. Shemade the whitest bread, sweetest butter and best jelly in the country. She could do almost everything to perfection, and she had sent Nellie forth into the world almost as capable .a housekeeper as herself. But with Mrs. Lawton it was different. "Beautiful Syra had been too [ ' daintily kept to share in the labors of the house, where, in truth, household help was kept in such plenty that soiling those little hands had always seemed superfluous. But Mrs. Luwton knew very well that Aunt Dora* would disapprove such "bringing up" of the girl, and her conscience reproved her that Syra, at sixteen, could not make a loaf of bread. " It would be a good experience for her, for Aunt Dora, though strict, was always very considerate in her training. Syra has been to too many dances this winter. The air is splendid at Oaklots. She shall go," she decided. Then the subject must be broached to Syra with a certain tact that the trip might prove a success. " My Aunt Dora wants you to come I to Oaklots for the summer, dear?the j moat beautiful of all placos ! and father ! is very anxious you should be in the I country this summer. You remember 1 I Aunt i)ora, do you not?'' "No; but I should like to go very ! much," said Syra. " Papa will go up with you the first of next month; and September 1, I will . come up with the boys, make auntie a j visit, and bring yoa home fresh as a rose and brown as a berry, I expect. 1 But, Syra, Aunt Dora is very domes-! tic, and will want you to learn the ways of a housekeeper and to assist her. I expect you will be willing?" Syra said " Yes," lightly. "She will want you to do things [ about a house and do them very j i nicely. It will be good for you, the ! L? training; and if sometimes a little F irksome, be patient and faithful and ; try to please auntie,for she was the best ; friend of my girlhood. Will you re- j member this, my dear Syra?" And! Syra promised. The gay society season was quite at! an end, and in the strong suns or April the crirl imagined the country, i of which she had seen little, would be I beautiful. The parks and public gar- j dens were already bright with emerald j turf and white wisteria. She had a | youthful love for such sights ; wide j old Oaklots would be a scene of en- j chantment, she believed. She had often heard her mother talk of the blcom-white apple orchard, the fields and brooks. She should have a-delightful summer, she was sure. * But at the last moment it turned out that Mr. Layton could not accom| pany his daughter upon her journey, j * and Syra's mother coum not go, ior . the two youngest boys were down i with measles: but the" letter was already dispatched announcing Syra's j speedy coming, so it was desirable that she set forth at once, and the girl declared she was not afraid to go alone. "There is no change of cars, my girl," said her father, as he snatched half an hour to see her aboard the train. "'Twill go right through and be at Woodville beiore dark; Aunt Dora will have a carriage at the depot, or, if anything prevents, take the mailteam?a very commodious vehicle, with a civil driver, who will pass her door on his way to the postoffice. fNow see what a little woman you can be." And with a look of solicitude and a word of encouragement he was off, and the cars rolled out of the depot, taking Syra upon her journey. She had every essential f i r her trip, from her pretty traveling suit to a well-packed lunch basket and a book for reading. It was a bright spring day, and Syra, having had her ticket punched and reM quested the conductor to notify her ^ when approaching Woodville, leaned hack in her seat with a feeling of enjoyment. She was naturally fearless, and enjoveii the enterprise of her trip alone. At noon she atti her lunch and commenced her bo'?k, which, diversified with watching the change of passengers, absorbed the afternoon. Hut she was getting a little tired when the conductor, passing, said : " NVxt. station's Woodville," miss." Syra aroused herself and looked out at the window : lonely, gray fields and no houses. Ten minutes later she sprang out upon a platform station and looko.l bewildered about her. The train rattled away; the fbw persons who had alighted with her disappeared, as it' they had sunk into the jrround. There was not a form in sight upon the cheerless spot hut a long, lank young man, who nl?glit?d fmm an old wagon and approached her. Bo you Mrs. Smith's niece, eh? Well, then, I'll take you right up." Syra had mechanically responded to his question in the aflirmalive, but when her uncouth escort would have gallantly taken her hand to lead her to the wagon she drew Iwk. " In that?"' she exclaimed, involuntarily. "I never rode in su'h a thing in my life 1" The young fellow looked from the dainty girl to the mud-bespattered old wagon, and answered: Reckon ye didn't. But that's what yer aunt sent me in fur ye, and J reckon yell have to go in it." For a moment Syra silently contended with her emotit us. She had expected her aunt in a comfortable family cairiage lo meet her. Such a reception as this seem d little short of an insult. But she remembered that she was quicK-iemperea uuu uicu iv control herself. fche certainly preferred to think no effense was meant, and swallowing the rising in her throat she walked to the wagon and climbed in. " I'll bet she (ton't expect the likes uf you," remarke 1 the young man, ambiguously, as he mounted to a seat beside her and jerked the old lean horse into motion. Syra did not reply; she was busy looking over the dismal landscape with a sickening heart?barren fields, leafless trees, small, poor, scattered houses, half-hidden in the gathering gloom. And was this the yoiihg man her father had jestingly alluded to at parting, warning her to break no hearts before he saw her again? She thought not. Syra had never felt so utterly miserable in her life as then, while she jogged along the lonely, darkening, muddy road replying in monosyllables to her companion's chat. "Is Aunt Dora well?" " Eh ?" sharply. "Is my Aunt Dora as well as usual?" ? i MoVftn ?hn isj Vnvpr he.ird her called that before. However, I s'pose she is. Law! she don't have no time to be sick. 1 guess you'll find that out," meaningly. At length they drew up before ?low, unpainted, rambling farmhouse, with shutterless windows, bleakly unsheltered under the cheerless sky. Syra began to fear she should cry, and cleared her throat briskly. The young man threw open the door. " Walk right in. Vou'll find her." Syra passed directly into a rude, unpainted kitchen as big as a barn, lighted only by a single small lamp. A great dog growled inhospitably at her from some dark corner, and if poor Syra had known of any refuge she would have turned and fled from this accumulation of horror. As she stood silent in the gloom a door unclosed, and a tall, scantily uresseu woman came 11110 u>c rumu, and having both hands full deftly kicked the door together behind her. 44 Eh !" she said sharply, advancing to a small rickety table and setting down a milk pan and a plate of brown bread; "soyou've come, have ye?" "How do you do, auntie?" asked Syra. forcing herself to approach the very unsavory-looking lady and kiss her smoke-dried cheek. 44 I'm well." answered Aunt Dcra. placing her arms akimbo, and sharply surveying her little niece. 44 Well, of all things!" she ejaculated, at last. A feeling of faintness came over Syra. She sat down, uninvited, and the very ugly dog came and smelled of her dress. 44 I'd as lief you'd be ruggeder-looking," remarked Aunt Dora, drily, as she turned away. l'o< r Syra! She tlad a very hard struggle, with herself not to break into i passionate sobs; but at length she con- j quered, and clearing her throat again ; attempted conversation. "Did you expect me tc-day, auntie?" | 'Expect ye? Of course, 1 sent for ye." " i know. Papa hoped to make the journey with me but couldn't. Jiut I did very well alune." " "\\Yll, draw right up here, eat your supper an' go to bed. I'll want you to help me to-morrow." Quite quenched as to sociability, Syra took off her things, handing her pretty hat to her aunt, who surveyed the ostrich plume with curiosity and an audible sniff, and took a seat at the rickety table, whereon was the sickly lamp, the milk pan, brown bread and some coarse bowls and pewter spoons. "Take right hold." A ml Oituimr+liot Alinf ""u ? v ,"o '-v * " , Dora filled a bowl with milk, 1-roke a slice of brown bread into it and pushed j it toward the girl. The lady's hands were very dirty, I the bread was very sticky and peculiar 1 in flavor, and Syra could only pretend | to force down a few mouthfuls. She i was dizzy and faint and would have j given much for a cup of her mother's | delicious chocolate. Seeing that she did not eat ner com- i panion suddenly presented her with a ; cuj) of very black-looking tea. " I s'pose yer tired," she said, not unkindly. " Yes, aunt, I am very tired. I'll go to bed at once, if you please." Mrs. Dora rose with an energetic 1 alacrity peculiar to her, and, seizing the lamp, led the way up a cold, dark stairway to a bedroom, with damp, j bare, white walls, and a great feather j bed, piled high with homemade quilts. I She sat down, with no apparent idea ! of giving oflense, watched Syra \in-! dress, openly examined her skirts and | stockings, and when the girl had ! shiveringly crept into bed between the | sheets of ice, tor>k the light away. "I'll call ye in the morning," she said. I If the evening had been unpleasant, the night was torture. It seemed to Syra that she should perish with cold and dread of her forbidding surroundings. At 10 o'clock she heard her male j companion coma stumbling up the stairs and retire upon a creaking bed; stead somewhere in the neighborhood. But not one moment all night did I she forget her sufferings. .Tust before I dawn she lo.st consciousness of her I misery, when a rude hand grasped her ! shoulders. "Good land! This is a pretty beginning ! Coin' to sleep all day V It's past 5 o'clock ! I've called }e twice!" Poor Syra started giddily up in the gray light in amaze. At home she often lingered on her luxurious pillows I aCter the bell had sounded a quarter : to 7 through t he summer warmth of the furnace-heated house. j Such a tfr/itle day as that was! ! Mrs. Dora instru t d her. in as few word ; a; possible, in was! ing a sta k ! of milk cans an I pans, and the soft| soap and scalding water were anguish ' tol er tender hair's. | Then she was s -t to paring apples ' for p es, until an indelible stain of app'.e-Juice was set in the poor little "V f I fingers, which she regarded so ruefully that Mrs. Dora took notice. " Oh, ye c an't keep ver hands white here ! 1 didn't get ye fer that." Poor Syra ! She stumbled about in her auut's long calico dress, mixed brown bread and " ginger cakes," [ironed, swept, scoured knives and forks, brewed yeast and churned. She could not eat the breakfast of salt fish and potatoes, or the dinner of fried pork and e-gs, the latter being cooked to the consi t-ncy of sole leather ; and trembling with fatigue, she was at length caught with two great tears rolling down her cheeks. " For pity's sake!" exclaimed Mrs. Dora. " Don't know notliin', an' don't eat notliin', an' now cryin'!" Syra sank into a chair in a tempest of tears. " Oh, I can't help it! I'm so tired ?and so?so sick !" Voices outside the door?a knock. There was Mrs. Dora's nephew, a 1 all, stout girl, very bashful, a carriage containing a sweet-faced, elderly lady and a pleasant young gentleman. " How do you do, Mrs. Smith?" said tho former. "There has been a mistake. I expected my niece last night at the depot. My nephew was a iittle late for the train and did not find her. This morning's express brings this?your niece. *is mine with you ?" Mrs. Smith nodded. " Law sakes!" she said, turning to Syra. "So that's your aunt?Mrs. Dora Smith, of Oaklots?rich folks! I'm Dorothy Smith. I thought it queer my sister should send on such a peaked thing as you are J" Syra waited to hear no more. She tore off Mrs. Dorothy's calico, hurried on her own things and ran out to the carriage. "Why, my darling!" cried sweet Aunt Dora, and Syra clung speechlessly to her for a moment. " I couldn't sleep last night for worrying over why you had not come, and Eustace here was up bright and early, to ; be on hand for the morning's express.! He found that vountr woman, whom fie was sure wasn't you, inquiring for Mrs. Smith, anil the station agent told a strange story of a very pretty girl riding off with Joel Smith last night." "So glad we have found you said Xephew Eustace to Syra, with tho kindest of reassuring smiles. Syra's journey was at an end. It was delightful at Oaklots, Aunt Dora the wisest and dearest of teachers and friends and when mamma came up in September, she was not displeased that there was a diamond engagement ring ] on her daughter's little hand.?Esther Strle Kenneth. Burnslde and the Kentucky Belle. Major Ben l'erley I'oore, the wellknown Washington correspondent,has recently published a life of General Burnside. The general was a native of Indiana, and was entered as a cadet J at West Point from that State. lie was graduated in the class of 1847, went to Mexico and joined tho army under Scott then engaged in "cons quering a peace" from that countrj'. * '?? ?.innAPcfnl /?lnon nf wnr U1C OUttUO^lUi t-IU.JV/ vj. vttv/ ???% . he was granted a furlough and visited his family, residing at Liberty, Union county. ' While at home on a previous visit," says his biographer. "Lieutenant Hurnsidc had made many acquaintance* in the neighboring town of Hamilton, (). Among them was a Kentucky belle, who united to the vivacity of the North the soft and languid style of the South. She was highly educated, and her industry in acquiring knowledge was only surpassed by her conversational power to impart it to others. | The young oilicer was dazzled by her j personal beauty and accomplishments, ' charmed by iicr affability and bewitched by her fascinations. Offering his hand, it was accepted; the necessary license was procured, and on the appointed day lor the nuptials the young couple stood up before a clergyman to be joined in wedlock. Asked whether he would take the woman to be his wedded wife, etc., Jiurnside resTHirwifd nilirmativelv. but when the question was put to her whether she would take him for her husband, etc., she said* No,' and could not be prevailed upon to change her mind. A few years afterward a distinguished Ohio lawyer obtained from the same lady a promise to marry him, and the wedding day was lixed. lie had heard of Burnsides' humiliation, and oil their way to church exhibited a revolver, and admonished her that she would return either his wife or a corpse. "When the important question was propounded sho promptly replied?whether from love or fear?*1 will,' and made a most devoted wife. " By a curious coincidence General Burnside, when in*"command of tho military district of the Ohio, the lady's mother and sister were airested as they were about to go .South, carrying f.nrrounnni)cnfn !iml .'irtlcleS COIltHl band of war on their persona. The general ordered the'.n to be sent through the Jines, and the husband of his former lady love hail hard work to obtain from President Lincoln permission for them to return home." The Great Storm. There is no storm on record that equaled in violence and destructive power the one of October 10, 1780, known as the " Great Storm." It was generated in mid-Atlantic, not far from tbe Equator, and was lirst felt in the Barbadoes. There the bark of trees was removed, either through the effects of the electric action or the fury of the wind; cannon were driven along the batteries and Hung over into the l'osse. A French transport lleet of fjrty vessels, carrying 4,000 soldiers, was overtaken bv the storm and completely destroyed at Martinique. And the governor at Martinique, reported tlm loss to the French government by these three words?"The vessels disappeared." At Martinique 0,000 persons perished ; at St. t>: fl.Aiif.iml .mil not ;l hnilSH I it-Ill", Hill ?...v left standing. Scar dy u vessel was atloat near St. Domingo, St. Vincent, St. Eusiache and l\>rto Kico on October 11. Seven churches and 1,400 houses were blown down ami sixteen wounded persons buried beneath the ruins of the hospital at Port Koyal. Fifty Uritish ships were driven ashore; two l:ne-of-baltle ships went down at sea, and 22,000 persons perfshed at the Uermudas. A twelve-pounder cannon was driven a distance of .400 feet. On th? Leeward Islands part of Ihv walls of the central j)art of the government building, nearly a yard thick, where tin residents of the government building took slHtcr, was broken down and r,iof t.-iiccn off. Some of the heavy | cannons \v<re driven from their stand , by the power of tiie wind; a id when : the day br >ke n;>taleif, scarce even I a branch, remained on the Ires. Quietly Sarcastic, lie came homo late the other night, and his wife woke up and found him | with a burning match trying to light . the col I water tap over the marble j basin in his dressing room. " James," she said, " that is not the gas burner." I " I know it, my love," he replied, , unsteadily; " fact is, I've been overj worked, and that's the reason I made the mistake." j ' Yes, you look as if you had been lifting a good deal," she quietly anj swered, as she returned to her pillow. The postal money orders in the connt ry la <t year aggregate 1 $ 1 ^0.000,000, of ; which $ii.50U,o00 were on l'oreign ac count. The net profit to the govern! ment was $1G5,OOU. President Arthur has five sisters and one brother. / A PECULIAR COMMUNITY. A PEEE REPUBLIC WITHIN THE BOBDEES OF LOUISIANA. A IHnlay Settlement of Fishermen Without n Woiiinniii It-Habits and Perullnrltlc* ofaStrnnifO I'coplc. For years past most remarkable reports about a Malay settlement at the l mouth of a small bayou running into ! Lake. Uorgne on the extreme southern limit have been in circulation. Tales which would have furnished material for many volumes of sensational literj ature have been twice told about this J peculiar spot, until the passage of time 1 and the absence of accurate detail conI rerning this terra incognita gave to j them the corroboration of general ac| quiescence, and .St. Malo was regarded by those who heard of the settlement j as akin to thp buccaneers' resorts of i x.ui>ariuueciu ui mu nijntciiuuo j retreats of the smugglers of the Span{ish main. It is true, now and again j some indefatigable amateur hunter or j fisherman would stray into its neigh' borhood.but. they never remained long, | and their short visits served rather to j heighten the color of past rumors than i to tone them down to the matter-of| fact standard of to-day. All that was definitely known was i that many years ago a number of na! tives of Manila, one of the Philippine | islands, north of Java, had established ! themselves in a village on a piece of land in the sea marsh of Louisiana, near a bayou, and there with miles | and miles of rustling rushes and reeds I between them and civilization had j built up an autonomy of their own, I holding allegiance to no power or poi tentate, and, though within the geoj graphical boundary of our State and the United States, yet beyond the i reach of its laws. A stern and rigidly I enforced statute of the colony was that of complete exclusion of the female sex, and many were the ghastly j traditions of the enforcement of this j ordinance. According to the whispered story, shortly after the settlement was made, ! and the small-eyed natives of the Paj cific began to thrive with their fishery, | one of their number, following the example of the average American eiti[ /.en, as well as the dictates of a semi1 Mongolian taste, carried thither a wife, I and established her at the head of his little household. Within a few months afterward unpleasant reports began to spread in the village, at first against the chief, and then against the smallest and most insignificant fisher's assistant there. Gossip, with her idle tongue, invoked private enmity, where brotherly love existed before, and old friends found themselves separated by some maligning slanderer. Fends were | created. The crease and the knife were resorted to, and the peaceful St. Malo threatened to become a place of sickening deeds. The older heads | gathered together and discussed this unlooked-for change in the affairs of their microcosm. The logic of facts, bv a verv simple induction, pointed to the woman as tlie cause, and her fate was sealed. Traditions differ as to the means taken to bring about the desired result. One has it that she was tied out in the marshes to a stake for the mosquitoes to suck out her life-blood; another tells of the short shrift of a knife and a severing of the bloody limbs from the headless trunk. It matters little which may be true, the result remained, and woman never more set eyes on St. Malo. The fishing is conducted bv companies, each of which is composed of a captain and four or five men. The captain is generally the owner of the seine. They start out in fine weather down the shore of Lake Borgne and haul the seine until a sufficient quantity is caught to fill their cars. All return to St. Malo, where the fish are j bunched and sold to luggers which ply between that point and New Orleans. TiiP first, share coos to the seine, and then all take share and share alike of the proceeds. Each man, when lucky, ! clears between 15 and $18 per week, j They do notcare for the cold, 'and work winter and summer, although summer is the best fishing season. The men live on rice, fish and beans, and once a week they get meat. They are all contented without wives, and seldom have trouble with one another. When they first came they built their houses with latanier (palmetto) leaves and witli straw from the marsh; now they are built of cypress. Xo such tiling as a warrant of a court, a tax bill, a lawyer, a doctor or an election is known there. Their only iiififrnt! fn spttifi theirdismites are arbi trators selected by those who dispute the property in a skiff, a bunch of lish or a pirogue. When a man gets drunk on liquor brought on the luggers from the city, and he gets noisy, he is immediately taken down to a fish car,which is simply a large skiff, some ten feet long, decked over with open seams about an inch in width, so that when it is afloat the water will flow through it to keep the fish alive. The drunken man is put in the fish car, the sliding door on top is closed and a peg inserted, lie is then safe. If he becomes too obstreperous the car is pushed out into the water until it is half filled, the cold bath effectually quieting the ardor of the prisoner.?New Orleans Times. Mot His Well Dutr. An Irishman took the contract to dig a public well. When he had dug nhnnf. t.iventv-five feet down, he came ?? ? """ V one morning and found it caved in? Jilled nearly to the top. Pat looked cautiously around and saw that no person was near, then took oil' his hat and coat, hung them on a windlass, crawled into some bushes and waited events. In a short time the citizens discovered that the well had caved in, and seeing Pat's hat and coat on the windlass they supposed lie was at the bottom of the excavation. < >nly a few hours of brisk digging cleared the loose earth from the well. .Just as the eager citizens had reached the bottom, and were wondering where the body was, Pat came out of the bushes and good-naturedly thanked them for relieving him of a sorry job. Some of the tired diggers were disgusted, but the joke was too good to allow anything more than a hearty laugh, which soon followed. Chief or the Cattle Thieves. John Kinney, leader of all the Xew Mexico rustlers and tne man wno ims proven such a terror to the cattle interests of the Territory, is about thirty-two years of age, live feet seven inches in height, stout, rather bloated, weighs 1G5 pounds, llorid complexion, light-brown hair, blue eyes, full, round face and light moustache, lie is a braggart, talks loud, drinks hard, lacks prudence, has killed two men, brags of killing others, is bold, but lacks nerve, lie is believed to be an Irishman. ! Kinney has been operating in Southern I New Mexico, Texas and old Mexico I for three years. He was formerly a soldier in the Eighth United States cavalry. He has a ranch in a cottonwood grove south of Kincon, where he has spent most of his time since leaving the army, butchering and shipping stolen cattle. Kinney is a sort of major-general, having command over all the rustlers. 1 It has been said that the most valuable man is he. who while superior in one thing, is fairly good in several; and the same truth holds good in mental and moral life, as well as business . or profession. The finest mind is that 1 which, though strongest in a favorite line of thought, is able to run with , ease in many others; and the best moral character is that which, while excelling in certain good qualities , which are spontaneous, has yet acquired many others in which it was de J ficient. WISE WORDS. When a man speaks the truth you may count pretty surely that ho possesses other virtues. Whatever you win in life you must conquer by your own efforts, and then it is yours, a part of yourself. Man wastes his mornings in anticipating his afternoons, and wastes his afternoons in regretting his mornings. When there is love in the heart j there are rainbows in the eyes, covering every black cloud with gorgeous j hues. We love much more warmly by cherj ishing the intention of giving pleas| ure than an hour afterward when wo ! have given it. j Every man cherishes in his heart ! sonic object, some .shrine at which his adoration is paid, unknown to his fellow mortals. "We have seen a prudent, industrious v ife retrieve the fortunes of a family when her husband pulled at the other end of the rope. Life is made up, not of great sacrifices or duties, but of little things, of which smiles and kindness and small obligations, given habitually, are what win and preserve the heart, and secure the comfort. It is better in s >roe respects to be admired by those with whom you lire than to be loved by them. And this not on account of any gratification or vanity, but because admiration is so much more tolerant than love. HEALTH HINTS. We unhesitatingly advise parents to warn their children against the unnecessary swallowing of orange or lemon seeds. Cherry-pits are to be discarded by the more cautious, though their form does not so well prepare them for urging their way into the appendix. All seeds of a larger character may be avoided, and when the appendix-veriniformis is thought of they will be. To this end instruct the littlo ones.?Dr. Footc's Health Monthly. Dr. T. P. Kinnicutt draws the fol 1U?11J? LUXlUUClVliJ Atv/Iit V..V obtained in twelve case? of acute rheumatism treated by o'.l of wintergreen : 1. In the oil of wintergreen we possess a most efficient salicylate in the treatment of rheumatism. J. In its efficiency in controlling the prexia, the joint-pains and the disease, it at least ranks with any of the salicyl compounds. The best method of its administration is in frequently repeated d ses,continued in diminished does throughout the convalescence. 4. lis use possesses the advantages of being unattended with the occasional toxic effects, the frequent gastric disturbance produced by the acid or its Fo lium salt, even when prepared from the oil of wintergreen; that its agreeablotaste, and, finally, its comparative Cheapness .'ire further recommendations in favor of its employment? British Medical Journal. Force of Habit. Some wonderful stories are told concerning the forc3 of habit. A traveler in Italy relates the case of a priest, who, for tiie purpose of self-mortification, condemned himself to sleep for a certain period of time upon a bed of spikes, it sort of inverted harrow. For a long time the practice was what it Intended to be, the severest kind of penance; but, the habit after awhile became not only endurable, but indispensable?so that after his perird of penance had expired, the devotee actujUly retained possession of his couch from preference. On the same principle, soldiers, who have passed many years in the field, sleeping in tents or in the open air, have found a roof and a bed within doors intolerable, and sleep unattainable, except by a renewed resort to their old campaign habits. Maryatt relates a strong example of the force of habit in the case of a certain chaplain in the navy, who had formerly been a lieutenant on shipboard, and who, whenever his ship came into action, could not refrain? such was the force of habit?from seizing a sword a^d mingling personally in the contest, notwithstanding his clerical garb an I functions. A footman promoted to a gentleman by an unexpected legacy and living in great style, could never break himself of the habit of running to the door whenever he heard the bell ring. During the siege of Boston, when (Jeneral (Jage granted permits for females only to leave the town, a young man i-.i 4.1.? attempted LU pilB9 till; HHQ vn^iiiooa as ;i woman. The sentinel on duty doubted whether the pretended lady had the necessary permit. " Yes, I have," responded she, or rather he. "I've got it here in my pantaloons' pock'.t." As in trifle.-*, so in mora serious matters, the force of habit is frequently invincible. Many inwbriates, though convinced of the fatality of their course of life, are yet enslaved by habit to their d< struction, and it requires an iron energy, constant watchfulness over themselves, on the part of the reformed, to avoid relapses into their old habits. Only perseverance will overcome these obstacles; new modes of life become habitual, and the force of old associations will, of course, grow daily weaker and less imperative. Some Annoyances or Russian Lire. Xo one is allowed to enter Russia without a passport duly vised, or to ! leave the country without a stamped permission to do so. lint thesj passI ports are easily obtained, and can lie | duly vised in London and elsewhere | without person application. Tliey | contain simply the name, without any I description of the travelers; they are I collected and submitted to the authoriS ties by the captain of the ship on entering the country, and by the hotelkeep>T when permission to leave is required, and while causing great annoyance and some expense to the i ordinary traveler, they seem of little use | for detective purposes. The hotel-keepersat St. Petersburg are obliged, under heavy penalties, to report to the police twice a day the names of all travelers who enter or leave their hotels. Each householder in the city is compelled by the government to have a DvornicK " to watch his premises. These dvornicks are men of the peasant class, who sit (lay and nighf wrapped in their sheepskins at the entrance of the houses, their oilice being apparently that of half watchmen, half spy. An order was issued a short time ago that no one should walk in the streets of St. Petersburg without a passport, but the absurdity and annoyance of the proceedings were such as to compel the withdrawal of the order. Newspaper editors are only allowed to give, on certain rmjccts, such views as are per* mitt d by t'.ie government, and on sonm questions are forbidden to write at all. For ign newspapers are stopped at tho ' ' V? /I ulfr liOP pUSLOIIlW, UllUii iiciu uiv^n. and when delivered at all have any objectionable parts or paragraphs ! stamped out and made illegible. The ; London Times frequently appears with r | paragraphs or portions of the columns ;! b!o?ked out in this manner. A gentleman riceived his newspaper a short time ago with the whole of it cut away with the exception of the advertisements. It would take too long to enumerate the many petty and other annoyances which official zeal imposes on the ordinary ljfe of the Russian peoi pie, and which have to be accepted , without public remonstrance or critii cism.?Fortnightly Review. Dark basket straw bonnets, trimmed , with wild roses, are sometimes accepted , favorites. Opium smoking is a common vice in Nevada among a 1 classes of people. THE QUiiEN'S WATCH DOG. JOrffr BEOWN, THE PERSONAL ATTENDANT or VZCTOKIA. In Ilcr .Scrr!cn Thirly-four Year*-?The Unocn'n Attachment for Her AttenilnntTlie Trouble Which II it Cnuncd nt Court. John Brown, the well-known personal attendant of Queen Victoria, who died recently at "Windsor castle, at the age of fifty-six, had passed thirty-four years In the s:rvic3 of her majeity and the late prince consort. John J3ro\vn in England was much more widely known than many of the members of the nobility, and throughout the long years of his faithful service the queen was attached to him so greatly that he ofte:i became* a bone of contm'ion among the courtiers who were jealous of his inliuence over her majesty. lie was a Scotchman, thq,son of a small farmer who lived at the I Bush on the opposite side to Balmoral. lie began his service in tho royal family as a gillie, in 1819, and was selected bv l'rince Albert and the queen | to go with her majesty's carriage. He | was with Victoria continually during j her life la the highlands of Scotland I trom 1848 to 18G1, entering the service of the royal pair permanently in 1851, when his duty was to lead the queen's pony on lier excursions. After the death of the prince consrrt in 18G1, Victoria became more than ever attache;! to her humble Scotch servant, ;ind in December, 18G5, she promoted him to the position of personal attendant or body guard to herself. From that time until his death the queen never appeared in public without .John Brown, and he followed her everywhere. His wishes were often much more potent than those of the members of the court, and whenever he was ill a Scotch physician was brought from Scotland t) attend him, because John had no faith in English medical skill. Of late years Brown's overbearing and dictatorial manners have caused a good deal of unfavorable comment among the nobility and others, whom he annoyed when they were visiting the queen. lie was not liked by the l'rince of Wales or the Duke of Edinburgh, who complained that he did not know his place; but the more lie was. snubbed by nob'es and princes the more graciously the queen smiled upon him and added to the favors .which she bestowed on him. Among the special favors granted him was the exclusive right to shoot over some of the royal preserves, and quite recently the queen threw open the state apartments at Windsor, at his request, for the mayor of Windsor, after having refused to do so for others of high rank. John Brown proved an invaluable man to the queen's household, and his personal attachment to his mistress was undoubted. Ilis personal anxiety on her account amounted almost to a mania. It is said that he was greatly worried two years ago when the queen was shot at by a lunatic, because he had not been able to prevent the shot from being fired, and because the man was captured by strangers in the crowd instead of himself. John Brown was not treated by the queen as a mere servant. Ha was rather a friend and confidential adviser. He was not of importance enough to be admitted to the royal table, but he was too great a man to eat with the servants of the household, and the result was that when the queen traveled three lunches had to be prepare 1?one for the royal party, t ne for the servants and a, t'.ird one for John Brown. It is said that John, with the proverbial Highland shrewdness, feathered his nest- well during the long years of his service. A recent London letter speaking of him, shows the familiarity which existed between him and the queen, and the trouble which it caused at court: " Ladies in waiting of exalted rank," it says, " have rebelled openly against the breach of etiquette his familiarity has created, ami refused to be ma le a party to it; but, snubbed by them, I13 was only the more graciously treated by his roy.il mistress. lie follows the queen like a shadow from palace to palace, in public and in private, behind her chair at her meals, in the rumble of her carriage in her drives, bending over to exchange a few words, and calmly possessing himself of her field-glass to inspect some distant maneuver at a review." The queen herself, writing of John Brown in 1867, in a foot-n- te in her "Journal of Our Life in the Highlands," fays: "His attention, care and faithfulness cannot be exceeded, and the state f.f my health, which of late years has been sorely tried and weakened, renders such /iiialiftnnfmnc v:l1iih1j1p. iind. in ....... ~ , deed, most needful, in a constant attendant upon all occasions. He lias all the independence and elevated feelings pectdiar to the Highland race, and is singularly straiglitfoi ward, simphvminded, kind-heartixfr and disinterested.always ready to oblige and of a discretion rarely to b3 met with." Brown was a heavily built, line-looking Scotchman, six feet one inch in height, with a broad chest and a well-developed muscle. lie had a large, full face and high forehead, a well-shaped head, with gray hair at the sides, well brushed up to hide the bald spot on top. His appearance and his devotion to the quern caused him to be known throughout England as the "Watch Dog."?iVe/0 York Tim ?v. How >'ot to Drown. Many persons have wondered that all animals seem to possess an in stinctive knowledge of swimming,and that nmn alcne lucks this gift. Dr. Henry McCormac, of Belfast, Ireland, writes that it is not necessary that a person knowing nothing of the art of swimming should drown, if lie will depend on the powers for self-preservation with which nature has endowed hiin. The pith of the doctor's remarks is contained in the following paragraph : When one of tlie inferior animals takes the water, falls, or is thrown in, it instantly begins to walk as it does when out of the water. But when a man who cannot "swim" fiills into the water, he makes a few spasmodic struggles, throws up his arms and drowns. The brute, on the other hand, treads water, remains on the surface and is virtually insubmergeable. In order, then, to escape drowning, it is only necessary to do as the brute does, and that is to tread or walk the water. TI.e brute has no advantage as to his relative weight, in re J spect to the water, over man ; ami yet the man perishes while the brute lives. I Nevertheless, any man, any woman, ! any child who can walk on the land may also walk in the water just as ; readily as the animal does, and that | without any prior instruction or drill| ing whatever. Throw a dog in the water and he treads or walks the water instantly, and there is no imaginable reason why a human being under like circumstances should not da the same. The brute, indeed, walks the water instinctively, whereas a man h:is to be told. Decrease In Postage. Forty years ago it cost six cents to send a letter from New York to Brooklyn; ten crnts to send it t?? Xewhurg; twelve ana a half to ('atskill; eight- ei and three-quarters to Saratoga; t wentyiive to Cincinnati. A b>M step, taken l?y Congress in 1651, dn l ired that a single letter should be carried anywhere in tiie country within miles for three cents. There had been one intermeditate step, half a doaen years before, reducing postage to five cents for a distance of 300 miles oz less, and to ' ten cents above that distance. The photographer's business is always at a standstill SCIENTIFIC AND INDUSTRIAL. Baron Nordenskjold is to undertake an Arctic expedition to North Greenland this year. Tennessee lias 4,32G manufacturing establishments, operating a capital of $20,092,845, and employing 22,445 hands. The largest pump work3 in the world are at Seneca Palls, N. Y Two hundred and sixty hands are employed. Jf. Janssen has found the high desert plateaux of Algeria to have an atmosphere so remarkably clear that the moons of Jupiter are visible to the naked eye. A deep, brilliant black upon iron or steel may be produced by applying with a fine hair brush a mixture of terpentine and sulphur previously boiled together. Thb Wisconsin legislature has passed a bill which provides that all goods manufactured by convict labor shall be distinctly rnnrkal ;;.c: uJi before being put upon the market. Here is a hint by Dr. -G. Boeck which may be of industrial value. If potatoes are peeled and treated with pi-rht n.'irts .sulnhuric acid and 100 I AT parts of water, and then dried and pressed, a mass is obtained very like celluloid, and which can be used instead of me.rxhaum or ivory. It is not stated whether the invention is protected by a patent or not. Professor- Iieinsch thus gives the results of his researches regarding the manner in which coal has been formed, lie had examimd with the microscope not less than 2,500 sections of coal, and had come to the conclusion that coal ha I not been formed by the alteration of accumulated land plants, but that it consisted of microscopic forms ot' a lower order of protoplasm, and klthoiij-n lie had carefully examined I he CL'lls and other remains of plants of a higher order, he computed that they have contributed only a fraction of the m;iss of coal veins, however numerous they may have been in somo instances. Making: Fiddle Strings. The name " catgut," as applied to the animal-liber strings used on musical instruments, i? altogether a misnomer. The cat is in no wise responsible for the string, and, much as the fact is to be deplored, the manufacturers of such strings refuse to utilize cats for the supply of their material. Aminadab S'.eek, amended to accuracy, should speak of "they who scrape the hair of the horse upon the bowels of the lamb"?not the "bowels of the cut." Violin, guitar ancl banjo strings, and in fact all sorts that coine under the general head of 44 gut," are made from the entrails of lambs and cattle, from the delicate threads used for sewing racket ball covers up to the half-inch thick round belts. After a lamb is seven months old its entrails are no longer fit for making strings for violins, consequently this branch of the manufacture can only be carried on a few months in each year. 44 Few people," said Mr. Turner, a New York manufacturer, to a Sun reporter, ,4 have any idea of the many uses to which gut strings are now put. They are used .to hold up clock weights, for belting, for the lacing on lawn tennis and racket balls, for lacrosse scoops, for weaving tine whip covers, for jewelers' drills, and for a thousand things, I suppose, that even I do not know of. Anglers'leaders or snells ? Xo, not at all, although most people have an idea that these are made of gut. That material would never do for such a purpose. It would, get soft in the water in a few minutes and the ttsli would eat it off. In fact, I don't know but what it would be a good bait. Most so-called gut' leaders .ire made from silk and the best from a marine plant. ' All the work of making gut strings is about the same, but greater rare ha* to be exercised in preparing those intended for musical instruments than others. The process ot' manufacturing those is comparatively simple, but far from easy. When the entrails, for which a gomi price has to be paid, are thoroughly cleaned, they are split with a razor. " Only one half is fit for use in violin strings. That is the upper or smooth half. The lower half is fatty, rough, and of unequal thickness. The strips are put through rollers turned by hand for eight or nine days, to take all the stretch out of them. Then they ? T?;,rn civ are spun, ur tnutcu. ? n v strands go to make an E string, eight or nine an A string, and twenty are put into a J) string. Then they go through a bleaching bath of sulphur funics. After that they are twisted again. Then they are softened in pearlash water, again subjected to the action of the sulphur fumes, twisted again, dried, and linally rubbed down smooth with pumice stone. Altogether it takes ten or eleven days to make a string. When done they are seventy-two inches long?four lengths for a violin?and thirty of them coiled separately and tied together make up the 'bundle' of the trade." A Frontiersman in a Hotel. L'UpWUU fillll A CclIVU twuoiucigu i-i L. .Jenkins one of his best, scouts and speaks of him in terms of'the warmest praise. When Jenkins joined Peake's command he had been away from civilization for years, and the captain on one occasion having to pay a visit to the capital city of the Lone .Star State t' ok Jenkins along with him. When they reached Austin .Jenkins, who was in the dress of a frontiersman and armed to the teeth, attracted a great deal of attention, and the boys followed him about in crowds, ile thought this ovation complimentary to hims'lf and invited the curious juveniles to the nearest confectionery, where lie spent all his money treating them to candy, soda water and ice (ream. When niuht came the captain took Jenkins to the Raymond house for supper. The dining-room was crowded and tha table was resplendent in its setting of glass and silver. Jenkins advanced to the table, drew his bowie-knife, speared a biscuit and a piece of steak, and stepping back began to eat as he had been accustomed to eat in camp, standing up. with his bowie-knife and lingers answering all purposes. A grinning servant invited him to be seated. ' Xo. thankee," was the answer, "I'm doing tolerable well here." He was assigned a room at the hotel furnished in the most luxuriant man- I ju ? . ! ner, Willi SOIL CHrpcwiS mil HII1HI..IC | and a downy bed. When the captain went in to arome liim next morning, .Jenkins w.isstretched out on the Ibor, wrapped in iiis blanket. Why didn't you sleep in the bed?" disked the captain. "I did try the blame thing,'' was the answer, " but I bogged in it cleai over my head." Advice to a ** Oiidc." By the way, we heard the other day quite an amusing story about a leading dude uptown, who imagined himself dangerously ill and sent his "body servant" for a physician. The medical man felt his pulse and n ade an inspection of his tongue, and then remarked: " Yours is a serious case, young man." "From what am I suffering, doctor?" inquired the now alarmed dude. ''From pointed shoes, elevated shirt co'lar, too-tight trousers, Newmarket coat, and general idiocy," responded Dr. Candor. "And," he continued, ;is he took up his hat and prepared to depart, ' my advice to you is to go on a farm ?a farm where you can get plenty of fresh milk!"?American Quern. There are 20,000 stands of 1ms in Nebraska. One; bee keeper harvested G,000 pounds of honey last y?-ar. WHERE GOLD IS DROSS. A BEFOBTEB I2TVADES A PEBFTTME VAWPACTOBT. Flowers Worth More than Their Weight in i the Most Precious of Metals?1The Value ot Rose. Jasmine and Lavender. "Smell of that," said a perfumer, at his place of business, to a reporter of the Syracuse (N. Y.) Herald. lie pulled the cork from a big bottle containing the tincture of ambergris and rubbed it upon the back of the reporter's hand. "The basis from which that tincture is made," he said, " came from a sick whale. It doesn't smell very pleasant, but when combined with other things it makes a sweet perfume." "You got that stuff from a sick whale?" the reporter asked. "Why, yes," said the perfumer, his eyes closing as ho smiled. "It is a morbid secretion of the liver of the whale, and is principally found lloating upon the seas .of warm climates, intermixed with remains of the food of whales. When of good quality it is of a bright gray color, streaked with UlilCK. clUU JtJllUW, au SUJLt tllrtt lu maj be flattened with the finger. Persons engaged in whale fishing look for ambergris in the intestines of the spermaceti whale, and are most successful in those that appear torpid,, sick and lean ; whence it would seem that it is a product of disease. It is found in lumps weighing from one poufld to twenty or thirty pounds, and is worth $32 an ounce, or twice as much as gold." ^ " Do you use it in the manufacture of perfumes?'' " Yes ; I'll tell you how, In the first place, it costs $1,500 to manufacture one ounce of perfume. That is to say, a man who wishes to go into the business will have to lay out about that sum to start. There are six flowers which are used in the work?the bases of all perfumes?violet, cassia, rose, tuberose, jasmine and orange flowers. These flowers are grown in France, except the violets, which are raised in Northern Italy. They are plucked and thrown into long pans filled with suet, which is kept just hot enough to keep it melted. The flowers are left in that way for twenty-four hours, when the suet is drawn off and treated to another batch of flowers. This process is continued for twenty or thirty days, until the strength required has j been attained. It is then put into cans, and in that shape is sent to this country. They are called pomades. I take these pomades and cut them with cologne spirits. I then freeze the substance and run it through a filter. The suet is thus kept apart and I have the pure flower perfume. It is very sweet and delicate, but when exposed to the air it soon itQ qtxr'norfch. Therefore we com bine it with what are called the fixing ingredients, which hold the odors and the essential oils. Take one of my perfumes for instance. To make it I have two large vessels. Into one I put the flower washings of tuberose, rose and violet. To these I add the tincture of tonca, vanilla, ambergris, musk, civet and tolu. This mixture is thoroughly shaken. In the other vessel I put the essential oils?orris, attar of roses, ro3e geranium, neroli, langlang and patchouly. These oils are cut with cologne spirits. The contents of both vessels are then put together aift thoroughly mixed." The substance is afterward filtered, and then allowed to stand for a month to get age. It is then ready for the market. The perfumer's artistic work is in studying the affinities and blending the scents, as a painter does his colors." An acre of jasmine plants, 80,000 in number, will produce 5,000 pounds of flowers, valued at $1,250; an acre of rose trees, 10,000 in number, will yield 2 000 nounds of flowers, worth $375; 300 orange trees, growing on an acre, wiil yield, at ten' years of age, 2,000 pounds of flowers, valued at $350; an acre of violets, producing 1,000 pounds of flowers, is worth $800; an acre of cassfa trees, about 300, will, at three years of age, yield 900 pounds of flowers, worth $450; an acre of geranium plants will yield something over 2,000 ounces of distilled attar, worth $4,000; and an acre of lavender, giving over 3,500 pounds of flowers for distillation, wiUyield a value of $1,500. The perfumer manufactures about fifty different kinds of perfumes, in which he uses eight different flower washings, fifteen tinctures and about thirty-different essential oils. The latter are very expensive, and the bases from which many of the tinctures are made cost much more than gold. The manufacture of perfumes is now chiefly carried on in Paris and London, and in various towns along the Mediterranean, especially in the south of France. In England some of tne essential oils are prepared from herbs on a large scale. In the Northnm T'nifpri states manv of the essences and essential oils are also largely prepared, the woods furnishing the wintergreen, sassafras and other sweet-scented plants, and gardens the peppermint, rose, etc. Perfumes are not obtained from plants alone. The delicate scent of (lowers has been traced to certain oils or others, which can he elaborated from substances associated only with the most disgusting odors. The fetid fusel oil, by different methods of treatment, produces oils not to be distinguished from those of various fruits; the noisome oils of gas tar are made to yield the nitro benzole, known as the oil of bitter almonds; and from the drainage of cowhouses is extracted an essential ingredient in the famous can de mille fleur. ""Why is it that America cannot make as good" perfumes as the old country ?" the reporter asked. "Because," he replied, "in France 4i._ ?o?nfn?tiirora frtit thpir nclnrs rli LIIU juauiiia^buiviu ?*-? vmw.. ? rectly from the flower, while Americans are obliged to import the odors in the pomades. When this country begins to raise its own flowers, I don't know any reason why we can't make just as good perfume :is does Lubin." There are gardens in Louisiana and California where flowers for perfume purposes are cultivated, and it is said that the product compares favorably with that of France. Catching the Eye of the Speaker. The order of morning business (says Hen I'erley l'oore, in writing in the Century of Congress and the "Capitol at Washington,") is unintelligible to strangers, and is merely the successive recognition by the speaker* of those members who have obtained from him .? rn-nmiuu tlijvfc thpv ran have tlift floor. In keeping these promises the speaker often pays no heed to members in the front seats who are endeavoring to attract his attention by cries of " Mister Speaker!" in every note in the gamut, accompanied by frantic gesticulations, and "recognizes" some quiet person beyond them. " I have been a member of the House three successive sessions," said an indignant Tennessean who had vainly tried to obtain the floor, " and during that time I have caught the measles, the whooping-cough and the influenza, but I have never been able to catch the speaker's eye." Siberia, instead of being the desolate waste pictured to the imagination is, in reality, the garden of Russia, ami many of the exiles sent there have he- j come rich and prosperous. The treadmill was invented by the Chinese to raise water for the irrigation of the fl&lds, .j i&M.-'* - FASHION NOTES. 8 :S.f. Double apron fronts for dresses are' 88 Bright plaids are much . worn by Plain silk mitts are more worn than lace ones. ? f All colors are fashionable, but red is *' most in favor. . Lace of all kinds is still to be used . in great profusion. ' '-3: Long French mits in silk, in shade3 to match costumes, are preferred to kids. , Pipings and cordings in bright material are profusely used on children's dresses. All the different shades of pink and ,.Ji of golden and reddish browns are in demand. t* " Tlie mode of cutting and finishing ; garments in the tailor style gains in popularity. . The Newmarket jacket is now tha favored completion to walking and 33 visiting toilets. The newest ornaments are in tor- . toise-shell inlaid with gold, iridescent beads and amber. Plain ottomans, double-faced satins v'% and velvet ribbons faced with satins are the standards. Tlie chudda, Virginia afid cricket cloths are employed for soft and at- 'S tractive costumes. Watteau and {esthetic wrappers, . /<k made with yokes on which a full skirt is shirred, will be worn. Lemon-colored ottoman gauze and cashmere on terra-cotta Luton straw > produces a novel bonnet. ? Leather-colored cashmere, embroidered in leather-colored floss, is making a distinguished costume. The best tournures are a part of th3 ^ jupon, and composed < f fluunces or ruffles falling one over the other. xga& The rage for historic costumes ha? gone, but lel't its result in many varied styles, modified or suggested by it. ?3 N"on3but tall and slender women can wear some of the stylps which lha inventors are trying to introduce this season. Flower and figure designs in vanish- ^#3 ing effects are produced in some of the checked stuffs by the shading of the J9| checks or blocks. * "White lace jerseys are much employed as bodices design for bride- + M raids' dresses of wliite Ottoman silk, or of brocaded gau: e, edged with wide ruffles of Oriental lace. , ures3 .skirts have obtained grea'.er 91 importance since they are less hidden by overdrapery. The tunic or scarf is aH shorter than it has been worn of la'.e, yWftjm covering only a portion of the under-' ' 1 ~*gfj skirt, which is now plaited or adorned with shell plaitings, ruches and narrow ruffles. Skirts, kilted or box-plaited l.alf ri&Kffl tiieir length, or more, are quite as fashionable as ever. Thess trimmi'ngs, although simple in effect, take a large quantity of material, and for jp^M this reason, perhaps, have neVer be- sHli /m.,. *..n HH come COrniU'JIl. 1 lit* H mu, mu yuttw known among dressmakers as " tuy- SrcsS aux," falling in rounded folds like or- -jj? gan pipes, are more suitable for thick materials, such a? velvet, plush an^I cloth, than flatly pressed plaits. Great " variety of effect can be produced in; plaited skirts by the arrangement of ^ the folds. Life's Small Troubles. Shirt button of! on a cold morning. is Shoestring breaking and none to iXfgj su pply its place. ^9 "Fixingyour mouth" for favorite dish at,restaurant and hearing waitor say, "Allout, sir." bown six flight of stairs and on the sidewalk, l'ocketbook missing. ^ Man in barber shop one second alioa I .' agj of you taking the only unociupicd * chair. , . j* Getting the left shoe on the rig!:t foot. And vice versa. Letter written to somebody and ca i't remember liis address. Mixed betweca . 201 and 102. Very hungry. Rush at the restaur- <^?S8 ant. Waiter overwhelmed with orders . forgetting you. i?-iinv <i.iv f.-illPil nn business. *??*.... v..v. ? _____ Eighth lloor. Down again. Forgotten umbrella: Preparing to write a'letter. llisar- I able pen. No envelopes. Ditto stamps. Postoftice.half a mile off. ' "JBi Lettsr written. One jfage. Ilurry. fKSj Wanted blotting paper. Gone, as h usual. '. Button, off coat. Seen for thiitytwo mornings, and regular detfnrii- I nation to speak to wife about it. . \ v|? Never recollected until sjeti at identi* cal liour and minute next morning. Street car. Always pulls up and to blockading you on the crosswalk. J| Going home at night. Pockets full ,|? of things for the family. Change for car fare at the bottom of the most overloaded pocket. : * < Collar button breaking or pulling ^ out just as you've finished dressing. ^ Worse. To return home after spending the evening in company and iinagining you have shone brilliantly and I (in^inn > rill In r Out at the UUUtlig u ivy W4MVV* X.?..... . . .v^_y buttonhole. Daily thought of the letter you ought to writs. Matter of duty. Always put off. Thought recurs > thrice a day and makes you sick. Getting to bed, wrapped up aid ' V ;v almost asleep. Forg t to lock the doors. ^6 Very cold night. Wake at 3 a. m. Uelow zero. ?Slieet3, blankets ail quilts worked into a complicated n II. Unable to get feet permanently un 'er cover. Half an hour of internal discussion whether or no to arise and re- > organize the be J covering. Shaky bedstead. Tendency of sla's to fall out. Crash immediately after i getting into bed. Or awakening at dead- of night and finding the bottom out and yourself shaped like a V. In use of mucilage. Xeck of bot'le all "stuck up" with deposit and brush stilt and hard. Split sock getting between t!ie to* s. Bit of walnut chucked into s'r>?*. * Not felt until you're out doors. Always hides until it can ea'.c'.i v u where you can't help yourself.? York Graphic, Favored the Plaintiff. An Arkansas man who was ejected from a railroad car shortly afterward brought suit for damages, and after a long and intere sting hearing of t.ie case the judge delivered the following charge to the jury: ^ The plaintiff boarded the train for the purpose of traveling a short dis- 0jbSM tance. lie had no money?a fact which he fr.inkly confessed. Then* was plenty of room in the car, so the ' r&jp| plaintiff was in no one's way. The s'vJ train was in the habit of traveling the road?in fact, it lias to go along tin re. | Th; train would have to arrive at its 1 destination just as soon if?lie plaintiff \ mm had not been on board. The maohin- 'Hnff' ery would not have l>een worn any r more by hauling the plaintiff. The J j president of the road would not have < I been in the least injured. And now. in view of all these facts?that the train had to go any way, that there was plenty of room in the car, and that the train would not have been in- J jured by the plaintiff?1 charge yon to J bring in a heavy judgment in favor of 1 the plaintiff, and then, as a healthf nl i I example to all parties concerned, tha conductor be sent to jail for six I months, and also t'rat the clerk of this ' 1 j court furnish the president of the road v 1 I with an account of these proceedings, together with an opinion that he, tho M president, don't live far enough up the | creek to tramp on the coat-tail of this 'fl cotirL