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VOL. XLIX. CAMDEN, S. C., THURSDAY, JULY 17, 1890. NO. 3. ROSY HOURS. To every man this world becomes The field of bitter strife. Or teeming land, where he may reap Rich harvests for this life! Earth's toil and care on heart and head. Like crushing burdens weigh, To grow or lighten, just as man Shall use each passing day. Yet. when the toiling hours have made j Their hard, exacting round, J And darkness hushes through the world The day's confusing sound, If he his duty unto all And to himself hath done, Then night to him will bring her peace, The sense of triumph won. There in home's magic ring of joy, With wife and children by, No troubles press upon bis heart Or cloud his beaming eye. For pure, domestic love is there. And wields its sweetest powers, To bless the joyful family group "With its most rosy hours! Alice Hunter's Patient, An okl gentleman, leaning forward with his hands clasped over a goldheaded cane, was seated in a summer house situated upon the grounds of a hotel at a fashionable watering place. He was in a corner hidden by drooping vines, and his face expressed deep and apparently painful thought. The refrain of his sad musing was: "Only one person in the whole world to love me, and I shall lose even that love now!" On the other side of the summer house, divided from the side the old iron tlcrnan occupied by :i rustic partition, two la-lies, young and fair, rustled in, aDd taking out some fancy work, settled down for a chat. One was tall and dressed in a pretty costume that was at once youthful and matronly; the other was petite, blonde, and not more than eighteen. 3Irs. Courtland spoke first. 'Embroidery, Alice?" she said. "A handcherchicf .corner. For your trousseau?" -"Yes;" and the sweet voice faltered, while a burning blush crimsoned her * cheek. "Is it not pretty?" "Very, I want to talk, about your prospects, child. Your Aunt Mary tells me you are making a splendid match." "Did she? I think so, Blanche. Malcolm is so noble and good "and a true Christian!" "But your aunt tells me he is the favorite nephew of the great merchant, Hubert Bates, whose wealth is something onA*.mAiio Vr\ii hoi*o nrlr tn hpln Mm play his cards well and he will prcbably be heir to a magnificent fortune. But what ails you? You look as if I was telling you a piece of news." "I think Aunt Mary lias been misinformed; that is all." 'Then he is not Mr. Bates's nephew?" "I never heard him speak of a rich uncle, and I am sure he has no hope of inheriting money. He has a good salary and my little fortune will furnish a 6mall house; so we can make a comfortable and I hoj:ea happy home." "Did he never speak to you of his uncle?" "Not of a rich uncle. lie has told me of a lame uncle, his mother's brother, who has been very kind to him, giving him his education and a start in the world. He always talks of him with the deepest love and pity." "Pity?" "He suffers tortures from the effects of a fall that has lamed him for life and often causes him weeks of agonizing pain. Malcolm teils me with tears in his eyes of his fear of losing this friend." "I wonder if it is the same!" murmured Mrs. C'ourtland. "Tell me, Blanche, some of the best places to go for our furniture and carpets It will be new work for me to buy household goods, and Aunt Sophy is not well enough to helprae much." "Oh, I will go with you. But I declare, if I were you, 1 would wait and see i if your Aunt Mary is right. Your fortune will never buy or furnish such a house as a future millionaire should live in." "My fortune," said Alice Hunter, with a ring in her clear voice, "will furnish a ^ house suitable for a bank clerk with five hundred a year salary, which is what my husband will have. If Malcolm has a rich uncle he is not the man to live in expectation of money to come to him wK over a grave. If his uncle Hubert is, as you say, very rich, Malcolm would hate ^ money won by the death of the nearest relative and dearest friend he has. But I don't believe in the money, for he k never spoke of it to me." Then the talk drifted into discussion of bridal fiuery, of furniture and stories r>f tVie rnunor wife's enntont in lier own WF married life. p Bat the old man leaning upon the cane was thinking: ''Cau it be true? Does Malcolm think so little of my inouey, that will be his, that he has never even mentioned it to his promised wife? Can it be that I shall gain a loving, tender niece instead of losing my nephew when Malcolm marries?*' Loving his nephew so deeply, Hubert Bates had felt a keen pain at the news of his betrothal. He had never seen Alice Hunter, but he knew she had been brought up in a circle of fashion and was the orphan niece ot one oi society s gayest votaries, Mrs. Mary Ilaydon. While he-ftiused upon the conversation ho had overheard, the silvery voices of his young neighbors still sounding beside him., there was a sudden crash. SorneJthing struck him upon the head and he lost consciousness. y Cries from the summer-house from groups of people collected in the grounds brought a party of men speedily to the spot. The rotten posts supporting the roof upon one side had given way and the side and roof had fallen in. Mrs. Conrtland and Miss Hunter were buried under the fallen timbers, the doorway being completely blockaded, but were uninjured. Not so the old gentleman who had been their unsuspected listener. He was taken out pallid and senseless. , Nobody kuew him. He had come by 1 the morning train, hail taken breakfast, but no room, anil asked the hour for the return train. A surgeon summoned as speedily as possible announced a broken arm and injury to the head, making n likelihood of a long, tedious illness. There was some animated discussion, some suggestions of hospital, a search through the pockets of the unconscious victim, resulting iu the discovery of a small sum of money, but no letters, papers or cards- and finally a desertion of one and another, each goiug his or her way, with the consoling rcfiection, "It's none of my business." iiut when they had all deserted the injured inau the surgeon, still busily binding up his arm as he lay upon a bench brought from the ruined summerhouse, felt a light touch on his hand and looked up. "Can I. help you?" Alice Hunter asked. "No, child, not now." "What will they do with him?" "I suppose he must go to a hospital." "But the ride?the journey?" "Will cause grent additional sulTering, perhaps result in death." "Doctor, will they keep him here if lie is paid for?" "Certainly; but there is not money enough about him to pay his board a week." "I will pay it." "You?" MYes; I will not let him die for want of money I have. He?" and her lips quivered, "he looks like my dear father who is dead 1" "Hem?yes. Here come the followers to carry hiin to the station. I think I will have him taken to the house where I board. It will cost less and be more quiet." Mrs. Courtlaud declared Alice was outraging the proprieties most dreadfully when the young girl went to the house and ojlered her services as nurse to the doctor; but Auut Sophy silenced all comment by moviug her belongings from the hotel to the quiet boarding-house, and the doctor found he had a valuable assistant. Alice explained, in her quiet, low voice, that her father was ill for Dine long months before he died and she was his nurse. This accounted for the noiseless woolen dress, the velvet-shod feet, the quick eye and ready hand, and when the sufferer recovered consciousness the gentle voice and tact that quieted him in paroxysms of pain and fever. Aunt Sophy was too much of an invalid herself to help; but she sat beside the bed while Alice moved to and fro, and performed all nurse duties. The invalid had one loDg talk with tin doctor, aud then submitted to the gentle ministration of the two women, only insisting upon a man the doctor provided being with him at night aud within call. The season was over, and only these three remained of the summer boarders at the house, when one cool October day, the sick man, now fast recovering called j Alice to him. "I shall soon be well again,'' he said, regretfully. "Yes," she answered cheerily; "very soon." "I shall miss ray nurse." "And my patient; but I am glad you orn vnpnvnrinrr Wn worn ftfmifl nf". nnp UIV ivvv^..?p. " v ,,v,v * "* time there would be a more painful parting." ''You mean I was in danger of dying. Why should that be painful? I am old." She made no answer, looking sorrowfully iuto his uplifted eyes. "And a burden upon you, the doctor tells me. Why did you make yourself responsible for a stranger? The fair face flushed, the soft eyes were dewy with feeling, as Alice said softly. "Because you're old and seemed poor and friendless. I was glad it was in mv power to aid you. l)o not think it was at any great cost," she added with a generous desire to lighten the burden of obligation. "I have some money lying idle. "For the wedding-day, perhaps. Well, child, you might have poorer jewels to deck your bridal thau an old man's tears of gratitude and love. I am getting well and shall soou leave you. Will you give me a keep-sake?" The girl loosened a little locket from a chain round her throat, cut off one of htr golden curls and put it in the place of some hair she took out, aud laid the trinkot in the old man's hand. "With my love," she said, softly. "Ah, child," he sighed, "an old man sick and feeble wins little love." "Yet," she said, earnestly, "you must believe that I have nursed you since you were conscious with alfection. My own father is gone, but if ever you want a uauguier s cure or anecuon, ueueve ine, I will gladly come to you if possible." Three days later the house was deserted. Aunt Sophy and Alice returned to their home, and Alice cheerfully paid out of her small patrimony for the board and expenses of her venerable patient. She little guessed how deep an impression her care and tenderness had made upon the heart so long closed against, human aiTeetion, so distrustful of any advances from his fellow-creatures. It was a revelation to him, this active charity to an utter stranger. lie had gone to the hotel merely to see Malcolm's choice, and had purposely left all clue of his identity behind him. He had intended meeting Alice, if possible, iiu* known and watching her unobserved; but accident had thrown them together in a way he little anticipated. The first, use he made of his recovery was to write l.:? ATnlo/Un, n,n? l,im of IU HIS HU[?UVi?, HUM luw IIUU 141' the station when lie returned home. Kuowing nothing of the recent acrident, the young man was shocked at the change in his uncle's face. "You have been ill?" he cried. "Very ill." "Why did you not send for me?" "I had even better nursing than yours, Malcolm. Don't ask me any questions now, but tell mc about your marriage preparations." "Alice has gone home and will remain until November. Then she comes to Mrs. Haydon's, and will buy her furniture. "In November?'' "Yes." Late in November sho came, her trunks full of Aunt Sophy's presents, and Aunt Mary gave her cordial greeting. A grhirJ wedding was the display upon which the lady had set her heart, and Alice shrank a little at the comments upon the rich uncle and her own good fortune in the "first-rate match." But just before the wedding day a little note was brought to Alice by a gorgeous footman, who was driven to her aunt's behind a private carriage. The note was from Malcolm, and begged licr to come to him in the carriage. Wondering, but obedient, Alice was speedily ready,and was driven to a handsome house, where the door was opened to usher her into a stylish drawing-room, where a gentleman awaited her,*aud Malcolm advancing said: "My uncle Hubert, Alice!" Kindly blue eves looked into her own, withered hands were extended and a voice she knew well, said "We are old friends, Malcolm. Are we not, Alice!" Then, before she could answer, the old mau continued: ' T have thought, Alice, that it was unkind to have my nephew wait for my death before sharing in my wealth. I have borne a curse of distrust in ray heart for many years, thinking my money won ine all the affection, save Malcolm's, that was offered me; but though you were well content to wed the young clerk and put your own patrimony into his home, you must not refuse my heir, who has accepted from me an income that makes him independent, and this home." "My love for Malcolm can bear richc3 or poverty," was the answer; "but, sir, our home needs you. You will come, will you not, to the children, who will try to make your life happy by loving care? Long before I knew you Malcolm told mc he hoped, when he had a home, to win you to live in it. Will you let me. too. beg of you to come to us?" "Gladly, child!gladly!" the old man said. "I understand now," Alice said to Malcolm, "wliy you wanted to wait until after the wedding to take our house. You wanted to surprise me." "I assure you I am as surprised as you arc, though it was Uncle Herbert who persuaded me to wc.it." So where the rich, lonely man had feared to lose the one love of his life, he gained another tenderer, sweeter love to brighten his declining yeare by a daughter's devotion aud affection. A Four-Century Bible. What is probably the oldest copy of the Scriptures in the United States is a i ( TlfLI. i? 1L- ! very curious joioic iu me possesaiuu ui the Rev. Father A. A. Lambing, the historian, of Wilkinsburg, Penn. It is a folio in s:ze, containing about , 900 jMiges of heavy parchment (sheep) and bears a marked resemblance to the i first Bibles printed by Guttenberg when ( he invented printing. The Bibles printed at first by Guttenberg (in 1450 and 1455) are described as "quarto in size, double | columns, the initial letters of the chap- | ters being executed with the pea in col- , ore. Father Lambing's Bible was printed in , 1478, and is, therefore, one of the ear- | liest specimens of printing. The letters nie in large Gothic style and the handilluminated work is simply beautiful, j The gilt painting, after the lapse of time, , is as clean and pretty and bright as ( though put on only yesterday. I Chemistry to-day is said to possess no ] materials which wili maintain a red color | any length of time, and here in this ( Bible the fiourishes and initial letters in , I red have withstood the ravages of time i for more thun 40U years and are still , brilliant. The monks had some secret in ( the mixture of their paints. They became adepts at the illuminating art. r The text of the book is in the Latin , vulgate, except that the Acts of the | Apostles are put after St. Paul's Epistle to the Hebrews. There are mauy contractions in the printing which arc hard to to make out, even to Latin and Biblical students. The cover is of maple wood, covered on the outside with hogski^ over which flourishes and fancy stamp work have been embossed. The corners of the cover are protected by solid brass castings. Another of these metal ornaments has been fastened to the middle of the back, and the fragments of brass clasps arc still hanging to the Bible. In those days durability was aimed at in binding far more than it is now. Father Lambing says that this Bible is tive years older than Martin Luther. Luther was born November 5, 1483, and the book was printed November, 1478. He says it is probably one of the old books which were chained in the monasteries. How a Horse Enjoys Flowers. 4,I don't wonder at the girls loving flowers ns tuey uo, wncn even norses arc nllected by their beauty." "What horse? Where?" "I saw a young lady while waiting l'or a car hold a bor|uct to the nose of a poor laborer's horse. The heat-worried brute actually for a moment seemed to inhale its fragrance with as much pleasure as its pretty owner. It was a bit of poetic sentiment that only a maiden's heart could conceive, and while she was looking around to see if anybody was noticiug her artless innocence, the noble steed ate the boquct."?Philadelphia Times. A Well-Equipped School. It is stated that the most complete workshops of their class in the country are to be found at the Hose Polytechnic scnooi .it lerre uauce, muiana. muc combiuiition of theory and practice is carried on with singular felicity and effectiveness. In the course in mechanical engineering particular attention is paid to shop practice and actual construction, the students being required to work iu the shops as well as in the drawing rooms and lecture rooms. Over 840,000 were expended in titling up the shops and supplyiug them with too.s. The World's Fair Directors unanimou< ly concluded to increase the capital stoci of the corporation to $10,000,000, HARD WORKERS ARCTHH WOMEN OF THE (TREAT FRENCH CITY. Almost All Avenues of Employment Open to Tlicm-Ncwspapers Chiefly Sold by Women ? Merchants of the Four Seasons, Etc, Women iu France , says a Paris letter to the San Francisco Chronicle, cannot justly complain that au insufficient number of the avenues of labor are not open to them. The Government gives them occupation in many ways?in the mint, as telegraphists, in the postoffice, in the telephone offices and in other ways too numerous to mention. As physicians they conquered their place long ago. The oar is almost the only profession or trade that thev have not iuvaded. Every Paris shop, almost without exception, has its woman cashier. A cook starts a restaurant and reigns supreme in the kitchen while his wife superintends the service, perhaps with the assistance of a rnatre d'hotel. A shirtmaker opens a shop for the sale of articles connected with hi3 trade and does the cutting, while his wife presides at the counter. The tailor lias usually his wife as cashier. French women are editors of newspapers and reviews, compositor^, saleswomen, nurses, TUE STAFF OF LIFE. porters, hewers of wood and drawers of , vater, everything in lact mey want to ue or are obliged to be, and their rights and wrong's,are, in general, justly recognised by the unwritten social code and the legal tribunals of their country. Newspapers are sold in Paris at kiosks situated ou the principal streets, boulevards and public places by venders, who have a coigb of vantage at the door of a wineshop or other entrance, and by news men or news women in the street. Boys rarely engage in the occupation. The dress of the men so engagpd usually beggars description. The news women present ordinarily a more decent appearance. The kiosks are small, picturesque structures constructed by a company authorized by the city and leased at from 6 francs to 12 or 15 francs a month, ac- j cording to eligibility. It is not always those in the most crowded localities that pay best, and at uonc of them are fortunes made in a day. It is not a life that an American woman, even of the most necessitous class, would not willingly follow?up in the morning at dawn and on the boulevards; never in bed before one o'clock in the morning. Most of the kiosks are kept by aged women, who, summer and winter alike, pass from twelve to eighteen hours a dav at their task. "When the weather is ?ofd their sufferings must be great, though thry arc warmly dressed and have under their skirts a footstove of the kind which our ancestors used in the old New England churches when the sermons were three hours long and the temperature 10 degrees below zero. At midnight the more weary begin to nod, nud you have to shout to wake them. At one o'clock they have all folded their tents and stolen away to take a few hours of repose before recommencing the dull round of labor. KOUXOUS OF AUVERCXE. A notable class of the women workers of Paris .nc those called "merchants of the four seasons." They-are provided with a handcart commonly filled with vegetables or other products of the land and water peculiar to the different seasons, but the name is sufficiently clastic 1o include those who deal the year round in meat, oranges or other things which the appellation would faintly suggest. The privilege of following this arduous | occupation is only granted to persons who arc aged and decrepit, and who, if the laws of health were observed, really should not be engaged in it. In the morning they go at daylight to the ccntral market to lay in their stock of fruit, meat, vegetables, etc., and tlienc# forward till dark, and sometimes until a certain hour in the evening they may be seen pushing their carts about, the city, haggling with customers, retailing their misfortunes with ouc another, or having a row with a policeman, who threatens i to take them in if they do not forthwith I evacuate a particular locality which is | highly desirable for their business, but where they are very much in the way. The existence of a class of small dealers of this kind implies conflicting interests. The shopkeepers object. They pay high rents, and here are dealers at their jdoors who undersell them and who pay no rent. On the other hand, the merchants of the four seasons are a great accommodation to small consumers, since they sell at a reasonable price and their goods are usually fresh, because they renew their stock every morning. There are the interests of the city to be considered, for the streets are crowded at the very hours when the business of the merchants of the four seasons is most prosperous, that is just before the breakfast time (noon) and just before the hour for dinner. Finally, the sluggard who is constantly saying to himself: "A little more sleep?a little more slumber," objects to their cries in his street during the forenoon. Still, they continue to exist, though often threatened with extermination, and to retain the privilege of certain streets at 1 certain hours, and even to station themselves in a long line along the sidewalk in certa'n quarters, like ttie market wagons in an American city. "What was originally granted to them as a privilege they begin to claim as a right. They have a corporation and lawyers to look after their interests. They have their meetings A NEWSDEALER, and their own orators, and though they belong to the invalid corps, and the influenza sadly decimated their ranks this winter, they fight their battle manfully. It is a hard life getting up at daylight in the morning and pushing a handcart from morning to night in the muddy streets in rain, sleet, wind and snow, and it is only brave souls that can persevere in it. The cleansing of the foul linen of Paris is a highly characteristic handicraft which gives employment to some thousands of women, old and youDg. The washing is usually done in the immense boats that one sec3 anchored to both banks of the Seine from its entrance into Paris at Charenton till it quits its envirous at Asniercs. The boss wiisherwoman has her place of business 5 11 ik. ? ,3 ??_ ill 11 ferritin ruuui uu mu ^iuuuu uuui iu no matter what street, where the clothing is received to be sent to the washhousos nnd where it is ironed and prepared to be sent home. The ironcr is a neatly attired young woman, intelligent for her station*, ready with a repartee for the young male patrons of the establishment and high y skilled in knocking the buttons off your linen, plunging the nose of the flatiron into your shirt-fronts aud leaving abrasions in your collars and cuffs. The ironcr wields the heavy flatiron from an early hour in the morning till a late hour at. night during the week. On Sunday afternoon she goes to the suburbs with her young man?an article she is pretty sure to have?perhaps to St. Cloud or Surcsucs, or even as far as IJougival. The damsel who collects the linen and delivers it, carries her immense burdens with exemplary patience. If the lanndry is in the suburbs the delivery is effected by means of an old-fashioned vehicle, driven by an elderly woman? the business woinuu of the establishment ?who makes this her only occupation. Rnmn bakers are born to wagons, others achieve them, etc. If they do not have them in any of the specified ways they hive a handcart which consists of a basket set on low wheels, which CLEANEST CITY IT THE WOULD, they put in charge of their more muscular handmaiden to be trundled about the city. Bread is the staff of life in France .to an extent hardly conceivable in America. A great part or tne presem population makes its repasts the greater part of the time on bread and wine or on bread and cider. If bread is dear the entire population of Paris gives a cry of ;agony. The commerce in bread is necessarily immense, and employ a host of women, who sell at the counter or arc engaged in the delivery. Men are never jsecn about the establishment. Their presence is required at the kneading! trough and oven, where they may be seen, in a costume exceedingly primitive, through the basement window at night doing ijhcir part in the serious labor of filling what Victor Hugo calls le ventre de Paris. The bakcrcsscs present few salient points of character. They are generally neat and good-humored, whether at the counter or in the street, and the same may be said of those in the pastry shops, which constitute, usually, a separate and entirely distinct branch of the trade. The bread deliverer has, usually, her head covered with a handkerchief, and when she leaves her basket, enrrie? u portion of her burden, like sticks of wood, suspended in front of her in ;t cloth knotted at the shoulders. It is the headgear of the portcresscs, that is if they wear head covering at all, for it is not uncommon to sec in Paris in winter a woman braving a glacial wind or a tempest of snow with her head unadorned except by its luxuriant tresses. Women divide with men the work of street cleaning and collecting offal. Tt is oftenest a woman, and a woman advanced in years, her gray, uncombed locks straggling from under a handkerchief, that, is seen yielding a broom made of twigs, and washing the streets with a liberal supply of hydrant water, for the bituuiin is as thoroughly scrubbed as a house door every morning. It is women, women, everywhere. One may travel from one end MERCHANT OF THE FOUR SE VSON?. of a Paris street to another and scarcely sec a mnc in any of the shops, except those where groceries or meat are sold. At the markets it is the same: there are only men at the butchers' stalls. At the fish markets, especially at that of the Central Market, which is immense and admirably supplied and kept, there is not a man to be seen. There is no doubt these fish women have, like Shakespeare's shrew, "a tongue with a tang," but unless there is some extraordinary cause for excitement everything is as calm as a summer's morning. It is only women that keep those convenient cnaiew sau along the quays in all the public places of the city. Half the restaurants of Paris are served by bonnes in pretty caps, who, no matter how assiduously they perform their dut:es, always have an eye open for eligible conquest among the male patrons. In Paris, nurses, though they come more or less from all parts of the country, are principally supplied by Brittany and Auvergne. It was for the nounce3 or nurses of Auvergnc that the melody was written which afterward became so celebrated in the Boulangist campaign under the name of the "Pionpions of Auvcrgne." One who sees the nurses with their tender charges in the Champs Elysees or the Luxembourg jardin on a fine spring day would hardly suspect what is a solemn fact, that the population of France is at a standstill.?San Francisco Chronicle. _ Spain's Baby King. The youngest and smallest King in the world is Alfonso XIII., of Spain, of whom Golden Days presents the following picture to youthful readers,: "Merrily thu joy bells announced his acfvent to tho good people of Madrid, and sent ministers, foreign representatives, lords and ladies in waiting and a hundred other magnificos scurrying into their court clothes and dashing off to the grand ante-chamber in the palace, where they waited with more or less patience and impatience uutil the doors were thrown open and the Prime Minister appeared, carefully carrying on a velvet cushion, covered with a lace veil, Lis very littlo Royal Highness, King Alfonso XIH. ALPHONSO XIII. OF SPAIN. "Gravely, and with true Castilian (lecortim, was the baby monarch presented to the uoblc assemblage, and then the Duchess Medina de las Torres took him in her arms and bore him to his mother, bidding her 'Kiss his Majesty, the King!' Five days later there came the christening, when the ceremonies were of regal magnificence, and all the .grandees flocked to do honor to the baby Bourbon. Indeed, this tiny King seems to have been born to ceremony, and in his four years of life has assisted at many public affairs. "But little Alfonso is not a strong child, and the past winter lie has been so ill that great fears were entertained for his life, llis high forehead, however, bespeaks intelligence, and he is well guarded and tended, while each summer he goes with his mother and youug sisters to the beautiful palace of 'La Granja,' among the mountains, where he i :~u~i^ r?r?f cni-?v nflnrs of L'clLi J11UU1V HIV llil^luui, ?1"-J the pine forests and lead a free country life. Should he live he will remain in the hands of nurses anil governesses until he is seven, at which age he will be turned over to a tutor and masters, to receive a thorough education, while at [ sixtecu he is to be prcscutcd to the Corte.":, the Queen Regent will retire and he become ruler in fact as well as in name." The Oldest Inhabitant. Census Taker Bcthunc, of Mi Hedgeville, Gn., in discharging his duties, rau across the oldest inhabitant, and was puzzled for awhile as to what entry to make of her age. Jane Moore, colored, living in the northern part ot tnecuy, gave ner age as one hundred and twenty-one years. .Mr. Bethune questioned her for some time and discovered that the old woman was a regular encyclopedia of the, early days of American Independence. She knew all about it?was there and saw it. She remembered Washington and all of the fathers. She remembered their habits and eccentricities, and said that she was married and had children when Washington died. Her oldest living child is eighty-eight years old, and since its hirthshe has been blessed with twentyseven other?. She is evidently not less : than one hundred and ten years and may be one hundred and tweuty-one, as she says.?i\*<?a York Mercury. I During the year 188'J the foot-aud j mouth disease spread in nearly everj part of the German Empire. In July, August and September alone 78,50] cattle were attacked, 53,530 sheep, 75J goats, uud 15,917 swine. i WILIUH1 limD. "When sunset lights ore fading in the west, And stars begin to gleam across the sky, The tender twilight brings ire per.ce and rest, While, dear, to you my heart's bist longings fly. The miles that lie between us seem as naught; Your form comes gliding softly to my chair, And looking into mine with eyes love fraught, Your lingers wander idly o'er my hair; Your loving touch a benediction seems That calls my nobler, truer self to life; I long to realize my manhood's better dreams And be a worthier actor in the strife. With purifying love your dark eyes shins, i The last light fingers on your dusky hair. And then you gently draw your hand from mine; I glance to where you knelt?you are not there. And so at twilight time my thoughts of you Bridge over all the miles that intervene, And bring you to me ever goqjJ and true, With none to sever, naught to com9 between. ?Gay Yule, in Frank Leslie's. PITH AND POINT, i ? Repudiated bonds?Sundered marriage ties.?Detroit Free Press. The real estate business is something of a lot-tery.? Washington Post. The going out of the tied?The departure of the bride and groom from the church after the ceremony. A chiropodist announces on his business cards that he has "removed corns from several of the crowned heads of Europe."? Cnee-a- Week. A housemaid who sits down immediately sftcr she has finished sweeping need not consider it tantamount to dismissal if told to get up and dust. According to recent quotations sugar remains firm. This is not surprising. It has always been credited with having more or less grit.?Detroit Free Press. Said the husband, "rich and happy I would surely be to-day If my wife had never found the bargain counter in her way." ? nasnmgion rosi. Old Lady?"Ah,you bad boy, draggin' your littlo brother along like that! Spos'n you was to kill him?" Bad Boy? "Don't care. Got another indoors."? Fun. "I think she has such beautiful eyes? barring the tact that they -are a littlo sharp." "Perhaps that is how you happened to get struck on them."?Boston Herald. Caller?"So Mrs. Hyson is not at home?" Servant?"That's what I said, mum." Caller?"Well, please give her ray respects as soon as you go in."?Chicago Times. He (newly married)?"I wish you wouldn't call me '(bar' while we're in company." She?"Why, Charles?" He ?"Because it makes me feel so cheap." ? West Shore. "Grindstone, if it's a fair question " "Stop right there Kijordan. It's none of your business. If it w.ere a fair tt/mi hflfrin it. lilffi that." ijugouuu jwu uvu4v*M v -? .....? Chicago Tribune. The Herring to the Sardiue?1 'How are you to-day?" The Sardine to the Herring ?'-Oh, I've struck oil! How are you?" The Herring to the Sardine?"I'm in a pickle."?Boston Courier. "I saw the new picture of Johnson iu the artist's studio." "Look like him?" "I can't say; it was just finished; it wasn't dry." "0! then it can't be like Johnson."?Philadelphia Press. How inconsistent some married men are, to be sure. They are bitterly pj posed to being tied down at home, but do not hesitate to gather in knots about the streets.?Detroit Fr?e Press. A census enumerator in Aurora found a woman with twenty-six children. At two cents a name this family netted him fifty-six cents. This is what the printers would term a "fat take."?Chicago Post. Minister?"I think I delivered a very i.Tlnn't vmi LUUUllI ll?? QC1IUCTU l/v-uitj *rvw ? J think I moved the congregation?" Deacon?"I know yOu did. I saw a good many get up and go out."?Boston Herald. ' Billings?"There is only one way to keep your trousers from bagging, and i that is not to walk so much." Kingsley ?"Great Scott! Don't you know that I'm the father of twins."?Clothier and Furnisher. Owner of Fish Pond (to man who is trespassing)?"Don't you see that sign, 'No Fishing Here?' " Angler (with an injured air)?"Yes, and J. dispute it. Why, there's good fishing here; look at this string."?Harpeis Weekly. Wife?"Why, husband, I thought you had more sense than to buy a cornet. You know the fellow next door worries us: nearly to death with his." Husband? "Calm yourself, my dear. That's the ono I bought."?Detroit Free Press. "When did Rienzi die?" asked Witticus, entering the fruiterer's. "Whatcher talkin' about? I don't know nothin' about no such person." "Then youj should not advertise that you keep a full' supply of dates."?Bazar Cedric's mother was a New Yorker,; 1 ' OUC UCQHC WUl uuru iii liuoivu* \SM\Aric, you are a naughty boy; you want a licking," said she. "No, mother," returned the child, bravely. "I may need chastisement, but I do not want it."? Harper's Bazar. A Conductor's Mistako. George T. Nicholson, General Passcngcr Agent of the Santa Fe Railroad, is very youthful iu appeurancc.aud recently while riding over the line in Kansas when the conductor took up his pass ho ) looked at Mr. Nicholson very skepticr ' ally, and at the next stop he got off and t j sent the following telegram to headquarI tors: "Young Nicholson is riding on the I old man's pass, What must I do aboutiti".