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TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBORO, S. C., JANUARY 29, 1880. VOL. IV.-NO.13. WINTER VERSES. Come, let's bury our Summer's dead. While our eyes with weeping are rod. Hero. whore droops the withering rose, Peace to the fly that tickled our nose. Under the earth, ton fathoms deep. Plant the mosquito who murdered sleep. Down, In a grave both deep an'l wide, Linen duster and straw hat hide, Stick a slab at foot and head; Writo: ""hero lies our Summer's dead." Bonnie Bessie. It was a spring day, sweet and bright, even amid the shadowy solitudes on th< highland hills, with the delicious woodland odors, and fitful gleams of sunshine, and the tender beauty of bursting bud and open ing flower. Though the day was drawing to a closc "Bonnie Bessie" still lingered by the high. laud spring, a brooding look of pain and regret, and half-formed resolve, in hot great dusky eyes. Every one called hei "Bonunie Bessie," from Lady Janet, of Dud. dlestone Castle, to Rob, the herd's lad, of Black Linn. The minister himself, a good brave man, had given her the title, whei she first appeared at Black Linn, a slim, slip of a lass, with wild elf-locks and checkf like carnations. As she grew up to womanhood the namc clung to her. "Bonnie Bessie" they all called her, and rightly enough; for of all the highland lassies who gathered at thc little kirk, Sabbath morning, not one was half so beautiful and winning as Bessie. I1er young form was as slim and supple, and graceful as a tall willow; her voice was the sweetest when she sang, and the charni of her soft, dark eyes, and the sweet smile of her red mouth, were irresistible. squire Renfrew, of the lied Pass was desperately in love with Bessie, and soughti to make her his wife, in spite of differenct in rank. The herds at the Red Pass were the finest and largest in the neighborhood, and the barns and storehouses were always well filled. He was a bachelor, something over two score years, and he wanted "B3on. nie Bessie" for his bride If the lassie thinks she can like me," he said, addressing Bessie's grandmother. as he stood under the low brown rafters of the little . Black Linn cottage, a hot finsh mounted to the shining crown of his bald head; "if the lassie thinks she can fancy me, the bargain's made. I'm willing and ready to go to the kirk to-morrow; and if a good, trtme husband and some gold and sil ver will make her happy, she'll be as happy as a queen at Red Pass." Bessie listened with wide, startled eyes, burning cheeks and quivering lips. Her grandmother, "aujd Mither Burns, as the ne;ghbors called her, looked up, with eager delight in every feature of her hard, time-worn old face. Such an offer was more than she had ever dared to dream Qf for Bessie. "The lassie will find no trouble about fancying the likes o' you, Squire Renfrew," she answered, rubbing her hands together and nodding her head up and down. "Sh1e will jump at the chaicQ of making the Red Pass her home, and be willing to walk to the kirk wi' you, whenever you speak the word. I'll answer for that." Bessie held her peace, standing, tall and slim, in a sort of stunned silence, until her passion was spent. "Well, 'tis o'er now, and ye'll simmer down, and keep quiet mebbe," she said. Then, still chuckling gleefully, "I've let ye have your say, and now I'll have mine. We're poor folk, me and you. I found it hard to get bread, when I had but my own mouth to feed; and, since, I've been bur dened wvi' hunger. But I've borne it all, an' done my best, an' always been willing to give you a share o' my last crust." "Ohil but don't ask me to do this," -pleaded Bessie. But I must. You've a chance now to show your gratitude, and to pay me back. When you're mistress at the lRed Pass, I shall have plenty of good victuals, and a * warm seat in the ingleside corner to the end ot my days, andl no need to lift a fin ger." "u dearest grandma," began "Bonnm "Now, lookee here, my lass," interrupted the old woman, lifting her bony finger, and glowering fiercely upon Bessle; "if ye are fulo enou' to refuse this good fortin', that ends It 'twixt us two. You*pack out of my house, and nc'er cross the threshhold again." * fBesslo was silent. The great world be yond the highland peaks, seemed so dim and far awvay, and the old home scenes were so familiar. The autumn days drifted on, and winter set lb. A wild, white, cruel, highland winter. Leaden skies, and lonesomne, wall Ing winds, and sudden' snow gorms, rush lng across the hills like white whirlwinds. Auld Mither Burns fell Ill with rheumatism, and Bob, the herd's lad, got his arm broken and the milch cow sickened and died, and Bessie went to bed suppeSrless many a *night. The constant drip of water wears away tihe solid stone, and the constant pressure of care, and want, and entreaty, bends the *stoutest will. Bessle yielded at last, and on one wild night, when Squire Ronfrew - came down to Black Linn, she suffered himn to pumt a ring on her finger. The very next day the cottage was filled with all sorts. of comforts; and a week thcreafter fine garments of lpen, and wool, and even silk,' were being made tip for *"Bonnie Beesie;" for in the spring-ttmo she was to go to the kirkcwith Squire Rlenfrew and be made his wife. The spring-time had come, and the wedi 4ing day was close at hand, when one evening, just before the 'gloaining, ieessie * went to fill her pit her, as usual, at. the rocky spring near 'y Shu had accom. plished -her taali, ha lited the iltcher to her shoulder, and had started fot the cot tage, her white, shapely feet twinakling vrettlly below, the ! short petticoat, as .she stepped from atone to stone in crossigthe little brawling stream, when suddenly she uttered a stifled scream, and, staggering to a muoss-covered boulder, sat down and put the pitcher on the ground beside her, pres. sing her Ifand on her .heont, and trembled all over. - "it's his ghaist, it's his ghaiot," she cried, d i, how sair io. did ioel* at Whateet 1i e hagl sen -or faelded .she h4 an tleo wa h p~pgl *e Cept the overhanging rocks if the glen, the brook shimmering in the evening light, and I the white birch trees swaying spectrally against the sky. "lie has coins from his grave," she 4 cried, glancing around. "I dare na, dare 1 na do It. Oh! forgive me, Jainie, that I ever thought o' it." She drew a silken cord, which encircled her throat. from her bosom as she spoke, and kissed the slender hoop of silver which suspended from it. "I'll never ha' peace if I marry the squire," she said; 'and I ought not to ha' it; I shall feel I'm a traitor. I And poor Jamie. after all I love no one but you, and never can.'' And sie broke down in passionate weeping. "I can't," she sobbed; "I can't keep my promise. I would sooner die first. I an just like 'Auld Robin Grey.' Oh, Jamie, forgive me that I ever thought of it." The sunset fires (lied out, and the wind began to chill, yet she sat there still, un consciout alike of her neglected pitcher and of her pet dog, who watched her so wistful ly. The twilight itself failed; the crescent mnoon came out above: and the bubbling of the Highland spring filled all the silence. Suddenly she arose with resolution stamped on. every feature. "1 must give the squire his ring again," she said,- brushing the last teard from her eyes. "It is hard for him; but there Is no other way. Then, Jamie, then you will forgive ne." Leaving her pitcher there she tossed back her abundant locks, as she finished this ad juration, and went speeding away, through the falling darkness, with the light foot of the ehamois. When she reached the Red Pass, the bright glow of the ingleside lit the windows. She approached the nearest one, and placed her sad, tired, yet resolute face against the glass. The squire sat within, pretty, tasteful things all around him, a happy musing ex pression on his plain, fatherly face. B3es sic watched him for a minute, choking down a fierce sob. "IIe'd be as good to me as 'Auld Robin Grey,. " she said, half aloud; but 1-1-ohl I eaven help me, 1 can't bear to think of A minute, and she tapped lightly against the glass. The squire turned quickly, stared and then started to his feet. "Well, now, well, now, wbat's tie mean ing of this?" he cried, rushing across the room and throwihig up the window. "Bes siel What has happened?" . "Something that never should ha' hap pened," she answered, looking at him with a sort of desperate dedlance, and drawing .the gold ring from her finger, as she spoke. "I've come to give.this back to you, Squire Renfrew. I was wrong over to let you put It on." "Why, child, what do you mean?", "rake your ring. You have heard of 'Auld Robin Grey.' maybe, have you not?" "Yes I have. But whet then?" "Well, I had a Jamie once," she went on, clutching at the little silver ring sus pended from her neck, a great throb of pain shaking her: he gave me this and I cannot wear any other ring. le-he-went off to seek his fortune," with another sup pressed sob, "and he *as lost at sea. I tried to forget him, but I cannot. I can't keep my promise to you. Squire Renfrew --I-I couldn't feel like she did to 'Auld t Robin Grey'-I should hate you-I should." al And here she broke down completely. He took the ring she oftered and paused f for a moment. A look of unutterable pain 1 and regret came into his kind eyes. r "So you havo come to tell me this, and i to ask for your freedom. And you really think. too, you have seen James' ghaist?" "Yes, and I shall never return to grand mother again. I dare not. So I am going away." 1 IIe laid his hand on her head. "I am glad you came to tell me, " he said; r "It Is better that I should know thIs now than later. I am sorry, Bessie. I had set my whole heart on making you happy. I But a b)ird, against its will, hates cage and c keeper. You are free.'' "God bless you, andl good-bye," she sobbed. "Nay, nay," lhe said tenderly, "not good C bye. Go back to the fold, my poor, pretty 1 lamb: go back to the 'auld grandmother.'d I will make it all right for you. Never C you fear." Greatly wondering the girl retraced her b steps to Black Linn. The morrow came t and wIth It appeared thie squire.a "I have come to beg your pardon,'' lie C salid, addressing Bessie, but takIng care to 1' do It in the presence of tihe "grandmother,u and to ask my liberty back again. I have changed my nind about taking a wife, f Mither Burns," and lie turned to the old lady; "I am better as I am." .lie took his leave, after a few more words n and then the old woman, not for one mo- u men't decived by hisa generous conduct, t turned on Bessie savagely.. "It Is all your silly capers. I see It all. a lie loves you so that lhe takes the blame, b when it Is wholly your fault. Ohl me. 5 Ohil me. I thought to spend my old age In peace and p)lenty, andl now I am left to starve, and all because of you, you un grateful child." All that night and( all thie next (lay, the r reproaches went on. Towards 'the gfoami- e ing, Beasie took-up her pitcheil to go to the t spring for water, glad to escape, for oven a ri quarter of an hour, from her grandmother's h rage., ti She had half filled her pitcher again, and b~ was again trippIng across the little brek, a her dog followIng her, when she was a startled once more: thuis time by Squire ti Renfrew, however. "Hie is coming to talke back his words," d she said to herself; and. she trembled so i that she almost lost her footlpg-. "Don't look frighmtend," said.the squire o klfldly. "I codie W~ithi godd news-news c you never expected to hear." She looked at hin breathless, palpitating a and unable to speak? What could lie mean? d "The seaman has been hoard from, at , last,".ho said, with a spdsmile as tonder a a caress. Bessl, uttered a short passionate cry. "Ohl Jamiol - is he ali'e? It was ne - ghost then, that I saw?" - "Let him abaWor.for- himself," sai the I squtie. 9tepplng ~ide. to. make way for a tall figure that h4 been>h4cden behind a - "ioJ, Wdlmg ''mid .the stranger as hi irattr;sed hpr. ~I4tt4hIdI "avoid -me the ether night?" said Bossie after a whiles Why paske gaqthnk Mg~ were Athostl "I -fad1 hoard of .yourengagement to I Squ.ire feude ai) A4n vithi jealousy was here, and he cate to me, and--you uow the rest." "Ah, he is the noblest of men," answered 3essie, glancing up from her lover's shoul- d ier, "and I shall always love him as a "] >rother." 01 A few days afterward there was a happy hi narriage at the kirk, Squire Rofrew him- 88 self giving away the bride our "Bonnie 81 Bessie." t1 i A Fifty cunt Iting. The other day when a young man had d' illed off two big mittens from his hands md stuck one into each pocket and backed Ic ip to the coal stove lit a Woodward avenue )etroit, jewelry store, he had still sutllclent trength to ask if they kept finger-rings here. The jewelry might just. as well have at eplied that he did not, but that fhuiger-rings ,I o.ld be found at any boot and shoe store ; ret he wanted to make a sale, and ho ans- l vered: "We do. What sort of a ring de you i vant?" e "It is for a wedding." "Ah 1 Will you have a single d..uiond st >r a cluster?" C "I 'spose you'd want two or three dol- w ars for a real diamond ?" remarked the lov- n . sr, as he advanced to the tray. Ile was carefully and tenderly Informed hat diamonds had gone up considerably , ince they wero used In his baby rattle-box, Ind then he concluded to explain: "I'm kinder down on such nonsense as vedding-rings. When a fellow has to get t whole suit of clothes, pay the preacher, t 'omo to town and ride on the street-car and ill that, It's expense 'nuff. I s'posu though, L'll have to get one." g "About what price?" i"l "Oh, fifty cents or six shillings, or around ti here. If its kinder gilded up. to last for . wo weeks, that'll do. It hadn't orter turn h usty under three or four days. anyhow, as he'll want to show it off on the street-cars, e and all the girls will be handling it. I'll ac ook at the fifty-cent ones first." The jewelry went into a decline. lie Ieelined to admit that he ever hadi such aa hing in his store. He further said that he ould hardly believe that there was a young c nan on earth who., would buy a fifty-cent ing to put on the finger of his bride. "I)o you 'spose," replied the young man, 1s he reached for his mittens, "do you 'spose hi 'm a John Jacob Astor? Do you 'spose h 'mn going to sell a hull crop of 'taters to my a ring my wife to wear washin' dishes id turnin' the coffee-mill ? She's lavin' u if now to have me buy her shoes, hat, r uuff,and perfumery after we're married, r and do you think I can rusli in here and a oller out 'diamonds!' and slam down wads s if greenbacks to pay for 'em ?" do The jewelry leaned his pensive head on mis hand and looked out of the window, in nd as the young man opened the door he malted and continued: t "Fifty-cent riugi Just as if fifty cents t' vasn't nothing to'rds a bridle tower ," 0) i " pt Coscumes. It was not until the rise of the Greeks hat dress, ceasing to be a mer'e exhibition f its wearer's rank and wealth, became an xponent of ideas of beauty. This race, ,lways joy and beauty loving, a' first by tli emperament and afterward from cultiva- B ion, though devoting less time and labor to PC lie manufacture of articles of dress than s1 ny of the great peoples, that had preceded, t r were contemporaneous with it, was the 1n rst to make a fine art of dress. Discard- as ig all that was cumbrous, gaudy and un- .se atural, they adopted costumes which re- in ain our best models of grace, and, in sim- to arly climes, of utility. But it must not co e inferred that the drapery of Grecian art an ; intended as a representation of the dresses itt orn In the common occupations of life. th 'he drapery of the old Greek sculptors was su Dunded on artistic principles and ideas- ti ot on those of practical ulility; while the e very day dress, beautiful and simple though it always remnained, was "'conformed to the bI rotection and comfort of the body, and the ge onvenience of the wearer." ba - of Sermon For 8uniday. an A little shoceblack called at the residence em f a clergyman and solicited a piece of m read and some wvater. The servant was Lirected to give the child bread from the rumb-basket, and as the little fellow was ralking slowing away and shifting the gift tri etween his fingers for a piece large enough be chew, tihe minister called hhm back and sked hun if lhe had ever learned to pray.g in receiving a negative answer, lhe directed bo im to say, ''Our Father," but lie could not nderstand the familiarity. W "Is It our father-your father-my W athier?" "Why, certainly."ti The boy looked at him awhile and comn ienced crying, at the same time holding , p his crust of bread' and exclaiming be ween his sobs: "You say that your father is my father; PC ren't you ashamed to give your little b rother such stuff to eat when you have got ori many good things for yourself?" of .A Good Joke. A few days ago a wealthy gentleman of ju, f Gloveland perpetrated a good joke on his pc ephew, a young man nammed Lockwood M miployed in the oficee of Division Superln- yo ndent Woodford, of the Canada Southern ob~ ad and locatedl at Toledo. The young ian received a telegram from the uncle alling him to come to ClovIand at once, ut offering no explanation. The young ian responded. The uncle, looking stern as ad angry, met him at the depot and said ric him, "Come to my office at once." The w oung mian trembling in his boots and won ering what he had done to anger his relas. shi ye, followed. At the office the uncle la anded him a document and a fierce tone ou f voice said, "Head that I" It was a deed gr onveying a houB? and lot .In oneoof the Lh lost pleasant portions of the city to the wl stonished nephew. Then the 01(d uncle sat fil own and laughed until his side ached. It fe: mas a good joke and cost the p)erpetrator ~10,000 -________ th -Coal in. tho United StBates.' la ar It Is stated that the consumption of coal- bt a the United States.ercedhag twenty mil- he ion tons in twelvenmonths has been attained nly twice--In 1875 and in 1877; but the Is ggregate this year alreafIy largely exceed4 dr hat amount. The rapid improvement in th ho Iron manufacture, the opening of -hn to Ireds of furnaces and mianufacturing ei- to ablishments which 'hateo. been idle for in rears, au4 the increased employment of .w alfo fuel' by persons whose purchases p mave bde~ :limited durig the pat .few rears by beuar 6ncraie, .caused he demand;to, b38 iU antft o d the lg l*nectations of the mest kapefu) anaratrs. hi Thrbo Oymters. "Are you in a hurry ?"a Brooklyn oyster aler inquired of a man for whom he was )ening his third oyster. The man had dered a dozen, and was plainly in haste, it seeing that a lady had entered the loon, he said that ho had plenty of time, id began to munch broken crackers until 0 oyster man was again ready to wait )nn him. "What can I do for you, ma'am ?" the aler inquired, turning to the lady. "Are your codfish fresh ?" the new cus imer demanded, looking suspiciously at ime large ones on the board. "Only two hours out of the water," the aler answered, "hardly dead yet. Only x cents a pound." "Weigh that one for me," the lady said. he fish weighed yive pounds ; that was too rge; another weighed two; but that was o sma:l. A third weighed three antI a ilf ; that was just iight ; but the lady had ianged ier mind and preferred haddock. his, also, was six cents, and a fish of itable weight was ston found ; but four ate a pound was all that tne customer as willing to give. Moreover, she had w set her heart upon smelts, and as there is none in the saloon, she turned her at ution to oysters. f "I want them fbr frying," she said. [low much are they a hundred ?" "A dollar and a qbarter," was the reply ; mnd cheaper at tliut than you canl get em anywhere else in the city." "Then open fity for ne, if you please," e lady said. * "Will you allow uie to attend to this ntleman nrat ?" the denier asked, point g to the man who had been obliged to ke a recess after eating three oysters. "Certainly not," the lady said snap shly. "I'm in a hurry," and as the man ud by this time finished nearly all the ackers am(, in a great measure, lost his >petite for oysters, lie said, politely, that was willing to wait. The fifty oysters were opened, and, ter closely examining them, the lady said : "Now, I don't mind giving you fifty nts for those if you will paste them over ith flour and egg, and fix them up for ying just as they do in Fulton Market."' 'Tlie dealer breathed very hard as he oked at his unpromising customer. "Per ips," he said, "you would like me to go your house and cook them for you." Without another word the lady gathered her gloves, handkerchief and reticule, stored her purse to!its place in the latter ceptacle, and, best6wing upon the dealer look of combined scorn and indignation, rept out of the saloon. "Well, women is queer creatures," the aler muttered, as he looked at the reced g form. "Skinflints all of 'em. 1 )uldn't trust my own wife where a bar in was to be had:" And he turned around find the man who had eaten the three aters. Buthat,persou had forgotten to y for the 'oysters, emptied the bowl of oken crackers and gone out. A Home Seal. Major Urch, last week hauled up on the e river bank near his house at Newcastle 'idge, Conn, the tank in which he kept a ir of seals last summer; and one of the nls having a short time ago died, sadly rned the other adrift in the river, l'art with it in much the same frame of mind a.man parts with a favorite dog, The %l much more gentle and affectionate than my dogs, at first made use of its liberty have a good swim around in the river, ming up alongside of every boat it saw, d saluting the suprised occupants with whistling cry; but at length, tiring of is, it turned to the bridge only to find its mmer home gone. For about four hours e homeless seal hunted for its tank, incing distress at not being able to find as planly as a dog shows trouble when master is In trouble when his master is ne; but at last it saw its tank on the nk, and with extravagant demonstrations joy flopped across the interi-ening beach d clamored into its loved habitation, now tirely free of water, and there It still re tined th~e last wet heard. The Second Slid. At the Larned street horse market, Do >it, the boy led out a bundle of flesh and nes, and the auctioneer his box and be ni: "HIarkl 'What was that? DId some dy say one hundred and fifty dollars, or is it the sighing of the wind? Very ill--give me'a bid. This is a horse. I'll irrant it to be. Detroiters are known i world over as modest men, but don't that feeling prevent you from making e of the best bargains ever offered In this irket. Who bids:" "Fifteen centsl" screamed the auctioneer lie wheeled--around. "Where are the lice? Who dares make that offer? What so caitiff has wormed lia way into this >wd to insult me and injure the selling this poor animal?" "Twmenty cents!" cried another voice. "AhI that proves that I did net mis :lge this crowd when I said it was comn sed of gentlemen, and the horse is yours. ike change hero with the clerk and take ur prize away before he falls dead and structs the sidewalk." Hoeusehold Irecorations. Mahogany is coming -into fashion again the leading wood for furniture. It is her than walnut, and excels all other ods in durabihity. The fashionable table ornaments of a nple kind are pressed fern inats, made by ring pressed ferns in a circle. They.point tward, one uplon another, the sizes being aduated from large to very small. Upon ese mats are set little wheel-barrows . out th a fret-saw out of white wood and led with moss and flowers and small ms. Rugs for bed-room floors'are more sought amp before. T[he fashio;i of carpets is -gely kept up by the wretched floors that e to be found in the majority of houses, .t for bOdroofne, ufrige on ihe score of both alth and labor saving are preferred. Th. novelty shown this wInter in carpets a huge rug to be laid over the ordinary awIng room or library,c1arpet.3 It is sty led e Smyrna carpet and is from half an inch an inch in thlt,kness. It. cost. from $8 $10 per square yard. 'Next after these point of' expense are the Persian rugs, iich are. not bandsokne, but are. at ile esent time fashionable. -Miss Leh -is and.b4i Amerloau y wh6 ls to marry a noblemane Her ideroo isPrince Galitsia. IIalf a dozen stalwart hoises' pulled a wa.gon into the yard of the Bush 11111 Iron Company, at Twentieth and Buttonwood streets, Philadelphia. On the wagon were four cannon. They were so red that at a distance they might have been taken for rolls of clay. A close inspect ion proved, however, that. they were covered with a thick coat of rust., so thick, in fact, that large pieces could have been chipped out in some parts with a pen-knife. A hundred years ago, between Warwick and Valley Forge, a charcoal iron furnace was in opera tion. It was known as the "Potts" furnace, from the fact that, it was owned by a family of that name. Hero the cannon was moulded into form, and here they were lying in 1777, but a few days before the battle of Brandywine. tien. Anthony Wayne was connected with the Potts family, and fearing that the cannon might fall into British, hands, sent a request, only a day before that niemorablo battle, that they might be hid beyond the possibility of dis covery. How to comply with this request was a matter which much puzzled the hon-. cat Pottses. Finally they hit uponl a device. There was a swamip in the meadows a short distance away, and there it was determined to inter the guns. Oxen were procured, and the iron weapons were dragged across the field and were allowed to siik down deep in the mud. There they was safe from being counted with the British spoils. '"r the last hundret years the Potts family, ac generatiott succeeding another, has re .nained on the homestead. and the story of the buried cannon has been handed down. In 1875 the idea of recovering them occur ed to the present, representtaive of the race, and before the year had closed the cannon were above ground. One of the four wio in such a good state of preservation that a six-pound charge of powder was fired out of it on the first day of the Centennial year. Recently Mr. Potts conceived the idea of selling the entire lot to a furnace owner, and, in spite of the remonstracces of his neighbors, who declared that it would be gross sacrilege to destroy such historic articles, he carried out his idea. The can non will be melted preparatory to being turnfed into rolling mill machinery. Rules of Hospitality As soon after your guest's arrival as poss ible saddle him with every one of your bob bies and ride him to exhaustion. If you are a public speaker, rehearse to him half a dozen of your longest and driest speeches. It will give you good pi actice. Friends should be utilized. If you are addicted to writing, read to him everything of yours that you can lay your hands on. Tell him about your business troubles and when he would speak of his pleasant trip to the mountains cut him off with a diag nosis of your internal ailments. Of course you will show him through your library; but do not allow his mind to become absorbed in any one volume to the neglect of the others. That would be emi nently unjuot to the others. Ie might be pleased to find a favorite, perhaps; but if you give way to his wishes, he may go away uihmpessed by the magnitude and versatility of your literary wealth. But by all means have passages ready to turn to in the more pretentious works, to read to your guest. Not only will you sur prise him by your intimacy with literature, but you will also give him a taste of your elocutionary attainments. Be sure to explain everything you read. It isn't to be supposed that many people have your powers of intuition'. It wero i(11 to IXpect it. Yake him feel at home by following your )wn unual course at home. Rehearse all the harrassments of the (lay at your place :f business.* It must act upon him In one nf two wvays. Either it, will remund him of liimself In his home, and therefore make lum feel at home indeedt, or it will call up the .ights of his own serene business life, inade all the more pleasant when thus fav srab)ly contrasted with your own. If the children crawl Into his lap and be liaub him with their molasses-covered fin gers, showv yourself an indugn( aetb non-interference. lugnpaetb Should they attempt thme same thing with you, aunothier phase of fatherly duty may be illustrated. Show that witlr all your indul ent love you can be firm on occasion. Box heir ears warmly. It is goodl manners to yawn occasionally, ~specially if by some mischance your guest Fall into the reprehensible practice (for a guest,) of talking about something interest nig to himself. It shows him the large unount of self-dienial you are exercisinig, hat lie may be entertained Never forget that, as lie who goes to 3rece is expected to do as the Greeks do, me the guest who enters your house should lccommimodate himself to his surroundings. le wouldn't expect the Greeks toun-Greek hemselves becguse lie happened to be in heir midst, would he? Follow these rules religiously, and we as mnre you that nonne others will be needed. They will serve for all the guests you will 3ver have. Cetowayo and the Conjuror D)r. Hlolden, the court mnagician and "wizard of the wicked world, ' obtained permission ( ir Blartle Frere, the govern nor, to give the captive king an entertain nent in his prison at time old Dutch castle. A.ccordingly, theO doctor drove tip in a cab, and made his necessary arrangements at thme far end of a long, barn-like room, divided off into two or three apartments, in one of whIch were the ex-king's three wives, at tended by a young Zulu girl, enjoying their Liffen or dinner. If "beauty unadorned Is idorned the miost," no one need cavil at the way those ladies were dressed. They seem to object to the pomps amnd vanities of this wicked world, and wear a few beads-and i smile. However, this being a red-letter dlay they soon afterwards appeared with a povering of some light material over theIr shoulde and took their seats on a wooden m.ool, w,ell to the back of lisa majesty, as If thef~ were afraid of the wIr,ard who had previously 6reated an'imprssion~ on them by lnding eg In thel' ornamnts. The half dozen, mnore' or'less, attendaints squatted on the grounid, the o nce-dreaded - e king dai na Windsor chair, antd tI'e seamnce began. Oeetyo u~nmst bbe caplimented on his good laste in slecting the feo wies he un dragged im'to'Ocaptite'ith him, fer fider de eloped lIlack Wommn i~ we id be 'difUbu1t ~n ona ay1h W hg wr.to have, 11'a woldi, foiach ofS hI% bit$ 6e on five. feot eletop inehg high. (hA etm eattle Wal. alomr the4ddihats -fw ~t king Is allowed to walk, guarded by two sentries, is the royal engineer stores, so that escape would seem out of the question, un less very artfully planed; but from the re seigned and comfortably appearance of the prisoner we should say that he is quite con- i tent to remain as he is until, in the words of the immortal Micawber, "something turns I up.' It may interest some to know that his weakness Is "a litlc drop of summot" 1 in the shape of half a pint or more of gin a day, and that, on this particular day he was not quite himself, having been indisposed during Ire morning. Imagine a jovial looking, perfectly black member of the mas cuhuc gender, in a Moses &. Sons reduced prico blue serge suit, with a billycock hat (like those worn by agricultural labors in .ngland), well-formed, intelligent, and all there, and you have a correct idea of the noted despot. Ile gave one the opinion that a he was there to find out every trick on the programme, and he did his loval best to do 1 so. It would not do to perform any illusion on the table ; no, it must be brought close I to him. That would not always do elthei t he mtust hold the conjurer's hand while he did his trick, and place the article on the 1 floor before him. Card tricks and the dic- 1 tionary trick were above his comprehension. Pure sleight-of-hand, the producing of full bowls of water and fish, tumblers of wine and a bowl of fire from an empty cloth pleased him much; also allowing hin to load'a pi tol, place a leaden bulie: in It him- [ :elf and then firing at )r. Holden's head sent him into eestacies, which increased when the performer passed a dagger and afterward a long cavalry sword through his body ; The yells of delight at these illusions were most ludicrous and the amusement afforded was great Scaratina. Of course, a physican must direct the treatment of this dangerous disease. Our hints are meant to put the friends of the patient into more intelligent co-operation with him. separate the patient from the rest of the family. ilemove from the room all unnecessary furmtture, clothing, books, etc. Let the room, as far as vossible, be kept well ventilated and disinfected. Change the bed linen frequently, but al ways disinfect them in connection with the washing. Inslead of handkerchiefs, etc., use pieces of cotton cloth about the patient, and burn theni as fast as used. Thoroughly disinfect everthing that comes from the .patient. Keep the temperature of the room low-not above 59 degrees Fahr--until the I patient begins to complain of feeling chilly, which lie will do as soon as the fevor sub sides, or if the case is i unit one. Sponge I the body tw' or three times a (lay with t tepid water, or with cold, if the fever is high. While the inflammation of the t mouth continues, a slightly astringent gar gle may be used, and the mouth rinsed with sonic cleansing fluid. The patient may have fresh water or lemonade for t drink; and milk and thin soups for a diet, until the (ever is over, when he should have good nourishing food, care being I taken not to let the stomach be overloaded. t The bowels throughout should be kept regular, cither by fruits or medicine. For the inflammnation of the throat, apply 1 frequently cold dressings to the neck, or let the patient lake into his mouth pieces of ice. Let the patient reman in bed un ill the removal of the scarf-pin is complete, Otherwise inflanimnaion of the kidneys may set in. Among the Romans. When the good Governor 8----, who Is a most devout Episcopalian, was the Chief Magistrate of Kentucky, lie was wont, to frequently entertain the member of the Gen eral Assembly at the Governor's Mansion. To one of these levees came, with the mem ber from his county, an okt mountaineer who had just reached FArankfort with the raft of logs which lie had b'rought dlown the Kentuicky River. The old man, who wes called famniliarly ''Uncle Johnny," soon1 be caime the centre of an admiring group, to whlomi his jean clothes were not at all an implrop)er attire for the Governior's levee and Is tongue being loosed by a glass of sherry wilne, which lie then tastedI for the first time in his life, lie was entertaining hIs audience withi stories from "his county," wheni the Governor app)roachedl. "Uncle Johnniiy, here Is the Governor," saidl one of the company; and .straightway the 0o(1 nia was silent, for lie was over whehnued by this first vision of the majesty I of the Commionwelth. "oho with your s-ory, Uncle Johnny," I saild sonme one; "the Governor, will like to hear it." "Yes, go on, Uncle Johnny," said the o Governor, with a kindly smile of encourage. p meat : andl the old nman, thus convinced that even the Governor was also a man, conclud- di ed1 lis narratIve. si TIhien becominag bolder hi' ventured to ad- o dress the Governor, saying, "Guvnor, I went c to your mleeting ylstiddy, and I seen whar you sets." 1 iIe had been to the Episcopal Church, and r hiad been shiown tIhe Governor's,pew. n "D)id you, Uncle Johnny?" responded I. Governor S-.---. "Anid how did you like it?" "Well, Guvnor, I never knowved much 01 what they .was a-dloln', but I rim and fell s wvithi 'em every tinme." The Telephone and the Baby. A telephonic story of Ameriean life has n just been repeated to me, with an assur- 'y ance of Its truth, and as IllustratIng the fua-p turo of Mr. IBell's recent Invention. A proud grandmamma, who has only just a been promioted to that happy relationship, y Is awakened In the dead of night by the o Inexorable hell. "Mamma, dear," comes ti to her the frightened voice of her beloved y~ but Inexperienced daughter, "I am sure a baby has the croup. What shall I do with It?" G3ranidmammia replies that she wIll h call the family (ototr and be with her anx- b Ious daughter In a moment. She awakens e the doctor and tells him the terrible news u sh6 has learned from her dAuighter. He In tu is turn reqnests to be Pitt in telephonic ,e communication wIth the t,e anxion* mami ina. "Lift the child to the. telephone aVid a let me hear It,cough," he denShnds. Ther i child is lifted and It c6mhs. "That's not-n 'the etoup,' he deolares ,ad he deoea t tl leave: his hetise on Suc 181 tt84. ' d advises gandm nlna alsol ipaIy1 In? h and al klty ueted tu Io settledown FOOD FOR TIHOUGHT. Life i8 too short for its possessors to ear long faces. We hand folks over to God's merey )ut show none ourselves. Happily for little men the giants tave seldoin any great wit. Self.inspection is the only means to )reserve us from self-conceit. It. is right to be contented with what ye have, not with what we are. le that pryeth into every cloud may >e stricken with a thunderbolt. Mind your tongue! Don't let it peak hasty, cruel, or wicked words. Never exhibit atnger, impatience or xeitenent when an accident occurs. Never pass between two persons who - re talking togetherwithout an apology Vice stings us even in our pleasures ut virtue consoles us oven in our pains A virtuous person seldom, knowing y places hinmself in the way of temp ation. The miser is the man that lives like a meggar - because he is afraid of dying. Ike one. T.'e integrity of mnen is to be meas tred by their conduct, not by, their >rofessions. Aul that is wise has been thought al eady; we must try, however, to think t again. The man who combats with himself, vill be happier than be who combats vitl others. Never enter at room noisily; never all to close the door after you, and me' vr . .wui it. 1 " 'how their character in nothing nore clearly than by what. they think aughable. Some folks are so full of envy they an't enjoy what little good they pos ess themselves. No books are so legible as the flives of lie n; no characters so plain aas their oral conduct. Fools are useul animals, for half the visdom wise men acquire comnes from heir blunders. There are few doors through which iberality, Joined with good humor, annot find its way. 'Tis with our jud^gments as with our ratches, none are just aiike, yet each ielieve his own. A year of pleasure passes like a loating breeze, but a moment of muts ortune seems anl age of pain. No matter can afford the luxury of iating people. It brings its revenge o the hater's own heart and life. No grander thing can a man do than o give a helping hand to a young man rho has become discouraged. After friendship and love come bone olenco and that compassion whieh unitus the soul to the unfortunate. I once knew a man who had advan ed to such a pitch of self-esteem that e never mentioned himself without uking ofl his hat. We choose a friend for no particular xcollenee in themselves, but merely roim soei circumstance that flatters ui" self-love. There Is a gift that is almost a blow, nd there is ma kind word that is muni. leenee; so much is there In the way ve (10 timings, Speak the truth; yield not to anger; ive when asked, of the little thou hast; ty these three steps thou shall go near he gods. Though the life of a man falls short hundred years, he gives himself as ruch pain and anxiety as if he were to ivo a thousand. Who will feel the tenderest partici ation in joy let him not look at happy h ildren, but at the parents who rejoice e see them happy,' Though the word and the spirit do lie maid work, yet suffering so un boits lie door of the heart that both thme lord and the spirit have entrance, True friendship is a plant of slow :rowth, and must undergo and with.. mand manny shocks of adversity before isl entitled to the appellation. A maui need only correct himself pith the same rigor that ho repr~ehends thers and excuse othere with the same idulgenco he shows'to lhmself. Kindness is stowed away in the heart ke rose leaves in a drawer, to sweeten very object aroundl them, and to bring ope to the weary hearted. Work Is a necessity in one way or nother to all of us. Overwork Is of ur own making, and, like all self..ln.. osed burdens, Is beyond our strength. Society Is like a glass of ale-the regs go to the bottom thi,. frot,h and um to the surface, and the substance, r the bettor portion, remains about theo entro. Laziness grows on people; it begins 'm cobwebs and ends in eksins. The 4 oro business a man has to do, the tore ho Is able to accomplish, for he 3arns to economize htis time. The surest way to make ourselves greeable to others is by deeming to Iink them so. If we appear fully sen Ible of their good qnalities, they will ot complain of the wvant of them in us. Don't start int life withmout an aim. olnt at something and.go straight fort . If you live an aimless life you will over amount to anythiug and vilt raste whatever talent and energy you , ossess. The reason why great men' meet with a little pity or attaebmen$ in adverel y', would seem to be this: .The friends ~~ f a great man were made by lisa fore aines, his enemies by himself, and rego cnge is a mnuch mnore pumnetuaI payet aster than. gratitude. Th.e point of aim for eur vigilanOe to old in, view, is to dwell upon th p to be peased with th~ pres~u pamtanees sturotgng IIh se la g w it *c Vt o a ome amd, as If tOshow 'thath hd~0 d ot depend nphyelaal e se equntrie;t-nos ayso(Aagtuse~~