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«** m '4h/' :r - " v* ,v -« saRt^S ̂ • •; 'y-'.4< ;,.«:.>r ' f ••••" • *vv»# v V"JP w; i? "' MWW;! . ... yv *v . '.> i iJS<* Hf ' « *' V IW# IlflXK GIRLS. vr BAXSIKT it. *. CMMR. e- :y'- ??••: my chafr; I|«to ttfte, little sprite at nyblit. •verlooking l*ntic, em r-^yf*: «••*?' '•» 3 • TH*; pother Mill **1* "• V Afia say* iheirtn "be tili;- tfI»d, m t towatd fer lean /̂̂ . ' Ink falls doW a &8Wra4fc£ ' t>ad«m .̂̂ doflk splti. . ̂ Nn»a th*mt*«(ri»R«»w **+&, ̂ *>1 V ft%#" . . cMtrtfcy ttwfa fret I .VT*|>pM *n &e<*rpet beat , ST j' • #,"/s • :i ,.4 , agi, if iter to woid, <*•>-• V, •-V." fi) '•*}">, » : Aadevenkbw the aunny head 4* ' Manning mischief all the*day. ̂ _ * ̂ X get their little beak, $£? <4p*w*it tte picture look , „ (, rmmar man sober gTnw-- ..•'̂ j^»'.fc/ Or a bos of buttons bring, ! tto Utti* Sogers stri*g, beside tl>em in • ,?ogpK<:;. JUa when each darllnjr he«§ *" ' , ?, iff • • • Xft'&Ntwithin the trpndle-ted, s.̂ ̂f , And th»y repeat tt^ewoiî Iî * * 4 i ' > , = , # n ^ y 1 c a n h e » r ; i£i t ,fi» Wings of anpel# rustHug near ^ * w ? * » « -- » - * ' ' , j , . ; ; V ' %*» . * **«* for the night's VH> - _• ' wr «JM ao metly clow. .'j^V "j, ling«r near th«m for a vliile, % &' ; f^Ua on their little pillow* weep, '̂ V S.; -* 'HftrtT « = p*«ying Oo4 to e*er kerp , _.. |jr ' „ '# *Jt • ' Their prec»<»a hearts ' ' ,>•:'• »|rrsri*i,», Maa«. M»-t j •. -xm hi . . . i ;< • M<U .f jroBSTA LEMAWS LOVE. . v-. , ̂ * r n w- • m and dia^peired torn in the path. nn^^j of from sight around a \ XM. "'i f'i- ft'?* lis • i" * I •"' ] «•; "fa •4fe' ' • . V**?! r " , ' lih"" * i •• ,#r- • •f's. % 0- -"fk " * *'•• ii .. ,*ll ' ' 1" W ' "vt ira. w. torn. -mii Stmnge, hnwHtt^te dfeaul is life. There are many scenes enacted «l which the world knows nothing-- Hsfcories unwritten, that lie sleeping in flbe inmost recesses of desolate hearts; gjmta too deep for tears; lives whose brightest dreams have gone oat in djurk- n«S8; Vhoee future looms np " as bleak fkttii barren as a rainy sea* ^TKere are !9«ny gseen graves in the hearts of those who surround us; who daily walk iH fife's paths side by side with us, and S"® . MO Cut*r«au sigh; little nfly# streams in the land of "the might l|| J^ave been," bounded by an ".if." %• |i. jthinks it well that there is a veil thrown fcs* <m»r onr thoughts, for if we had. the *** ihysterious power to read ,the human heart, would we not shudder at the dark an ̂passions that ao offce ̂ lie |C| keeping there, and turn away from this if picture in horror, choosing rather to "'Ifvfe oh in blissful ignorance? Bpt I ̂ h»ve promised yon a story, and must • V not go on moralizing in this strain, lest ggj,, |tljL ̂drowsy god overtakes jop ere yoti ^QTuroence it. Perhaps it will be some- *ha* fca«i yet it is a true history from book of love and life. *»$? JL long reach ol» sea beacb alretching "* mwmj on either hand, with- the music of waves dashing their white ite shell-strewn sand. It "WiSjB neaf the death of a midsummer •df, said a calm glory lay like a spirit of "p&yet upon hill, vale, beach and SCfti Away off in the west crimstm clouds, ' Milngled with gold and amber,lay piled up iit magnificent beauty; zephyrs, fresh ifrcon the boso9i of the great waters, blew gently upon the land; white sea­ gulls sailed round and round in the blue ejiher abpve, and, taking it all in all, it was just the time and place for youth Uttd besufy to build theif cluUeaux ' iEExpagne. • thought t^e two standing in die of the declining god of day--Norma and Leslie De Vere. j ^ *Is not this a beautiful World, Norma, dear?" said Leslie, gazing lovingly fepou hah " For m y part I cannot see ̂ why people nil! persist in ealling it a oald, heartless, unfriendly abiding • ijpiii n." '?•-.» Bay yoa so, ptoua soil of wialth dad (•pldiepoe? Change places with yonder poor fisherman; earn your bread by the eweat of your brow, know the he&t •ehes, trials, miseries, want and suffdr- U .̂, ; ffig of the poor,and how soonyou would mri. ft dtfswge your tune. m >W] »?s •4 .1 -X'.V-'.'; i*r • •M* Jip> • ate- '$XiMm • ' ft/- ** $ I.T.1V.?1 !W¥ ' '*t" •_ !JS-1 : \wm Sf" *me fir . * S_ m H*!-4 it* Pe- #vl% **' * Everything is fo beantiftil, and yoa <|ueen beauty of all," went on De Vere, * thai I hardly know whether I am in 1^7& PJ*011 this mundane sphere <#i«ura.M ;.f. "Why, Lesl|e, how you do talk," re- id&ed Norma. "One would think, to 'J|Miar you, that you had been educated _ -in the school of flattery." I "Oh, no," returned Leafie, *nbt flat- by my means, but truth, every , ? ^or^- ̂ I a® so glad your school . dbya ®re over, and that you have come home for good. Seachwold has seemed iRRh a lonesome place without you; the d*ys *0 long aiid dreary, and the nights ten tjupes longer. Ill wager there have been at least 400 days in the years that 3*ptt have been away at school" % r >Then I don't believe there*wi]l be more than 200 days in all the years I home, she replied, laughingly; ' tfcea she added in a more serious tone, --3bui it ia a blessed thing to come back iow® sgain and theio is the supper yrn. m. ' bell, which reminds me that I am hun- #7? ®n^» bghtly trilling an air from , i fte opera of the "Bohemian Girl," she i topped up the ahell-lined path which to the proud old mansion of Beach- WoW, followed more slowly by De Yere, ® "'kW- a gentle enuneatoe e waten o( toe At- in trees aiid em- Ipaofd in flexing vine»,! ft their vanegated hearta.a tho«9 |̂̂ d«h t m a m < p 4 o n , * 1 * * W T e l e r to long t* etop und,* ̂w$w Ae sp«r oioua haU of where sump­ tuous eaafek** incited jrs|>»f9 from ft®, glare anll lMMl fikvttheni sun. There were gttmps of acacias and mag­ nolias in fragrant bloom; thiokete of <nftnge trees, woven together by a net­ work of grapevine*, heavily laden with their rich purple fruit; dusters ef shrubbery and rare flowers, that grefar in a&ady nooks by the iniinsftiring riVulfet and clustered around the limpid spring. Immediately surrounding the mansion were gardens of all that is beautiful, use­ ful and ra*jp, interspersed with marble fountains, Statuary, hedges of roses, bright-winged butterflies, and sweet- singing birds. JSvery arrangement dis­ played the wealth, liberal spirit and re- <&ted taste K>f the owi*er, who, from his kotd, cOol verandah, couki look out upon the waves of the majeetie Atlan­ tic, dotted with tike white-winged mes- l̂Eigera of eomroeJCe; Truly Beach- wold ̂ as a paradise of beauty if any ^dace on earth can be called suek. Faw beautiful Norma looked, stand­ ing upon the marble steps of the veran­ dah, health and happiness resting upon her brow; her form clothed ip a dainty velvet bodice, fastened with gold but­ tons; a crimson skirt trailing like royal robes around her; a velvet cap, with siiken plume, resting upon Iter head; •ad her long hair gleaming like , ebony in the dying glory of the setting sun. Gasket and gem were alike matchless. , Byrdn Wottid have said, if he had seen her, as he did of 'th#fMf^browed, dark* eyed Zhleika: * ,l£ ' . • 1- : , k i n > • % v?: • , .,•• Such around h«r shone, • » * . The nameless charma nnnuufked by her alon^;' The ijg îi of loVe, fee pnrlfy of"grticej*' Tlie mind, the music breathing from her face; t 'The heart, whom softness harmoniaed ite whole, And O, that eye was in itaaU a eooi. I(: She' had -« warm, pure, trusting nature, like that fair Woman of Verona, the gentle Juliet --one that could love deeply, passionately, and but once,. Such natures »s &e&*&e' yeanUfhlly dff scribed in 'rFestus»" Mtd&e hearts,"aloe-- liket flower onpe." and nevet s bloom« with jthe same freshness ag îin. ' ; %> •< She was an orphan, and, years agone, had been intrusted to the ca,re of Wal­ ter De Vere by a dying father, the triend and companion of his boyhood, Midnobij had he kept that trust, guard­ ing and dberiahing her as ten^derly as if she-had been his owtt; daughter* Living under the Same rooty, and, growing up together,' is it any wonder that Leslie De Verfe, »the son of her gttardian, coilld help loving h^r--t^at is, as much as his fickle imd wea9t ®ature oould love anything? *• Sf How swiftly the bright sumihdr dsys, flew by! Together Norniaî knd '̂ Leslie woujd wander Over the hills by th€s blue- waved sea, and down through' the cool old woods, where the air was heavy witH a thou8%pd sweet odors, caught irom the hearts of innumerable tropical floweiB. Together, in the hush of the still suin- mer nights, they would sit in the grand old parlor, and read to each; other their favorite authors; explore the witching And dreamy field of romance, aivd linger over the faeeinating talo of love mxd glorious deeds of the days of chivalry; cull gems from the rich ields of poesy, or dwell with tear-wet eyes over the sad history of Lamemoozta fair bride imd gentle Amy Bobsart. At other times Leslie would lead her fo the piano, and, with rapt attention and quick-pulsating heart, listen to the rich music as she ac­ companied it with some joyous melody or soft and tender lay of love. Beauti­ ful, b^autif'il summer *J^ysJ |o| could you not last? *. * 1 It was a beautiful summer night in the latter part of August, a night when the earth seemed dreaming a beautiful dream of joy and peaee; anight for love and hope; when fairies sang in'the dark old woods, and brownies danced upon the moon-kissed streams; mid on this night, with the sweet Stars Watching over them, Leslie De Yere breathed his kne to Norma Leman. r. Norma, darling," and the words fell like music from his lips, MI love you; will you be my own sweet bride? May the lilies of the valley be gatl$red for a bridal wreath?"., . * t ' Darling!" how sweetly it fell upon her ears, and, with the radiant love-light sparkling in her e^es, she said they might, and this was their betrothal. There are times ,in our lives tha ̂re­ main forever green and fresh in our memory, and such ever after must this one have been to Leslie De Vere, when that fair young girl nestled her head confidingly and trustingly upon his. shoulder, while his arm eppir l̂ed her waist. . ,-o w It seem* so idle for me to try to write out the happiness of these days--how Norma, in her gleesome, childish man­ ner, wandered through the grand ol<$ mansion, tinginf snatches of old-time songs, and lived, as it were, in a beauti­ ful land of enchantment. One morning, some weeks after Los- 1181 mm m m% iu niwshe««« passing tftiMjlrtft'lMQl preparatoiy to tiftjtejji -liî teuia morning walk, a note tM l̂kia îl&'her by one of the servants. HksUly Waking the seal she imd: 1(OSVA OABUMO: X haW ite ̂iMwsof vBPwBWrV îinnî WBHI nfQmB no w leave here forNew IMWMIH. Qood- by, dMrHnf, and pray for while abwat I will explain all when I return. Ever thine, , /( •, Lbsmb. No murmurings entered her heart, and, whatever came afterward, if Leslie De Vere could have looked into her heart then, he woald have read only pure, trusting love. . , Days passed into weeks. Autumn had come with its crimson dyes; dusky shadows wrapped themselves About the stalwart trunks of the forest trees; the ocean moaned sadly upon Hie beach; gray clouds glided across the somber Ueavens; the air was full of the shaken glory df red and yellow leaves; the cricket chirped sadly in the withered gx-ass; nature was holding her obsequies, and the fullness of the year was dying. Norma Leman is standing by the sea- eoai fire, in the spacious drawing-room of Beaahwold,,villi an opea J^Her in her ha&&t " And this is the end," she said, " the end of love's sweet dream. He is to he married at Christmas, so he says in this letter, to a dark-eyed beauty and heiress bf the Or^soent City. A fairer face than mind bas won him. Well, I am a #omah, and have had my love dream, and its awakening has been bitter as death. Bask ip the light of another's smiles; listen to the music of another's voiee, Leslie De Vere; my heart may break,, but I qannot curse you." And with a white, rigidly,set face, and %htjiy * clenched lips, shfl ^staggeredr from the room. ; s # . Love, unhappy love--how many deaths thou dyest--ever loving, ever dying; yes, dying a death more teirible than that of Prometheas chained to the itock of torture, dying a thousand •deaths while living--and when the end comes; the play over; the curtain falls on what ?---a mockery; the wreck of all that was purest, noblest, grandest, and best of mortality. No kiss, however Warm and pure; no touch, however ten­ der and caressing; no tone, however low ^nd sweet, will m**r bring back to life this dead thing1, once so trusting and confiding in its youth, innocence and beauty, that becotiies, in the terrible agony of its' death, a very horror--a ghastly specter that shall never leave its victim's ̂ ide; whose presence will be felt in tlie halls of revelry,, amid the maze of the giddy dance; the war of {elements and the shock of h&t|le, qagt- ing its shadow of blight over all things, though the wide w^rld be crossed. Yes- terday, thou wert life and all thai life holds d^ar---to-day, nanght but a mem­ ory, and silenoe seals the life that snag thy praise. ! It was a beautiful autumn morning; ft# white frost lay like a coat of silver upon the earth; the late autumnal sun was just peeping lazily above the east­ ern horizon--a cool, refreshing, autumn morning. Yet there was stillness in Beach wold. Shadowy forms moved si-' lently to and fro; an awfal gloom seemed resting upon the house. And why? In the grand old room, where yestorday she had moored the light and joy of that proud home, lay all that was mortal of beautiful Norma Leman. Down under the water, where in sum­ mer the golden-hearted lilies iovecl so wMl to grow in the gray of "morning, the ̂ found her, and now, ly­ ing in1 her whits' robes of ppiity, îth the stamp of the death angel upon her brow, die was sleeping! And he, Leslie De Vere, the pause cf all this woe and sorrow; he who had blighted that sweet young life, jn the fas Southern city, basking in the pays of another's love, knew not, or, if he did, seemingly, eared Hot for the wretchedness he had'made. And this is love. Ah, love! sometimes I have thought the love people p«a|s *bout «o much di©4 wit̂ Petrarch, in Raly» 500 years ago. j»iMnnwat. W. Va. • • i | A<^O*DIHO to the account igf^n in Truth, the commotion of the Duke of Sutherland with the Glasgow Bank is one of the hardest strokes of ill fortune ever dealt. Borne time ago the Duke's agenfc ewed kim §3,4)00, which he wished to pay by transferring to him four shares of stock in the City of Glasgow Bank. One day be mentioned this to the agent of the Caledonian Bank, at Inverness, who said: " Oh, never mind IrouGling the Duke; We'll take the shares and credit his GraceV account" And iiwa fatal operation will, probably cost t^e unconscious victim $500,000., London his a book in circulation in which all marriageable girls Who are in possession of a fortune of JE1,290 jpp are registered! . ' The Alsatian bow, as worn by peasant women, fe 'very large, and where it is draWn in ||t the ceht^r thefO î always *1 narrow band of gold. &mAMJ> S imrmjrdxL An Inrtdtmt of Frontier IAftu 3P^gkGwwd^h^Mleb^B^jooi£o£ was in oh îei 'ef F'ort Berthold. The Indians Iv^&ete had moved from their summer village to ttieir winter quarters, from f'orty to fifty mfles aw^y. On «ie evening of the 2^d of Decem­ ber, about 600 Sioux passed the fort un­ known to Oirard and his employes, seventeen in number, Their intention was to rob the village, but .before com­ ing up with it they discovered that it had been reinforced by 000 Aasini- boines, and they changed their minds about fighting. They turned round, and on their way back resolved to cap­ ture the tort. Next moriring one of Girard's men reported a large herd of buffaloes about two miles away. Oirard ordered Ids horse to be saddled, and be­ gan to prepare for a day's hunting. In the meantime, however, one of the men had gone up to the block, and with A pair of glasses found out that the sup­ posed buffaloes were Indians approach­ ing the fort. Taking their rifles, Gir- ard and about a.dozen of the men start­ ed orit to meet them. When a mile away from the fort and 600 or 700 yards from the Indians, they were fired upon, and for the first time became aware of the hostile intentions of the approaching savages. ' Girard's men had passed the deserted village, which was composed of dirt tepees. Ttey noticed that Indians were going into the tepees with the intention of cutting them off from the fort. Girard halooed to the men to run for the fort, and they started back, seventy or eighty Indians firing on them as they passed. They had barely time to get inside and close the gates of the fort, when the whole body of the Indians were in the village, which was within thirty yards of the stockade. • The battle raged from 9 a. m. to 3 o'clock in the afternoon. About seventy-five tons of hay were set fire to, as well as a large number of the dirt tepees in the immediate vicinfty of the fort. Tthder cover of the smoke a number of the Sioux came up to the blo'jk-house with fire­ brands, which they thrust through the port-holes and endeavoredto set fire to it by shaking the sparks* on the floor At times the smoke was so dense that Oirard and Ms men were compelled, to fall on the floor to get a breath of ail*. They managed to keep the savages at bay until the friendly Indians, forty mileis away, attracted by the column of smoke, moVed forward to their assist­ ance and scared ofi: the Sioui.' About fifty of the enemy were killed during the fight, but Girard's small force was uninjured- with the exception of one man who received a scratch oh the nose from a flying splinter. Next day the friendly Indians returned t3 their winter's quarters, and every one of the employes deserted Girard, being afraid that the Sioux would return andbe a little more successful in jiheir second attempt to capture the fort. Girard stayed in the fort alone for ten days. Scarcely a day passed by without seeing some hos­ tile Indians on the outside. Every night he went to the block-house and mounted two dummies, placing old United States muskets alongside of them. One morn­ ing on taking them down he found two arrows sticking in the breast of one of the dummies. iEach morning, after lighting the fires, he would go on the block-house in different dresses--some­ time? rigged as a white man and then as an Indian, using different-colored blankets. Altogether he assumed twenty different characters, and proba­ bly succeeded in convincing the red­ skins that there were twenty or thirty men inside the fort who were prepared to defend it to the death. Girard had determined to sell his life dearly in case he was attacked. He had arranged twenty-five kegs of gunpowder in a circle, knocked in the head of one, and piled all the merchandise on the top of the powder. It was his intention to wait until a good number of Sioux were inside, and then send t îem instantane­ ously to kingdom come. There was, however, no need for the extreme meas­ ure. The friendly Indians learned that Jhe was alone in the fort, and, on the tenth day, forty of them came an,d took up their quarters with him, and re­ mained with him until the spring. His employes also'came back, and the blood­ thirsty Sioux gave up the idea'of cap­ turing the fort. ' [ ! <?#*'.. They were all out at the springs-- father, mother and the 5-year-old boy. Alter an invigorating bath they went up on the hill to the " chicken-soup" spring, and, while regaling themselves with the delightful drink, the little one looked at the bubbling, steaming water a moment, and then asked: "Mamma does God kick over th» chaiwiiia swearatMrs.God when b* has to get up late*i- l(jr upon some object away down the river. The silence for * minute was ab- aolntety painful, mod then the man «**. lyresnwrkfcd: ...« -J, >r 411 never before knew the Humboldt,, to be so low at this time o' year."--Elko ftohtr,}.*," •> ' i. jm. OBITUA&YH .1 AT -1 f,% ,f' * > ? • ; . - - v r ' v - = , " God does, my son*. •* * I:**.;!« " How does he do it?* " Oh, he builds a big fife under 4&1* "Does he build the fire liistown self** • " Xes, I suppose so." The then asked: £ ' Miehard Seniry COM, feo&i at Cambridge, Mass., 15| 1787, died at Boston Febr % t 1879. He was educated at Howard College *in the class of 180% studied law, and entered upon the prao- tice of his profession in liis native town. He was, for a time, warmly engaged in politics on the Federal side, as a men*4 ber of the Massachusetts Legislature ̂ and otherwise. His paramount tastes, however, were literary, and in 1814 he joined the olub of gentlemen by whom the North American Beoiew was pr<f jeeted and^or a time conducted. His earliest writings were published in thai periodical. His criticisms and essayist in the Review excited wide attention a&'> that period. The "Essay on Old Times" and "The Idle Man" were among his earlier productions. His first poems* "The Dying Raven" slid "The Hus­ band and Wife's Grave," appeared in 1825. In 1827 he published "The Buc­ caneer and other Poems," and in 1838 an enlarged volume, including new poems and the papers of "The Idle Man," made its appearance. In 1850 a. work including ill his poems and prose writings, in two large volumes, was issued. The success of Mr. Dana as an author was, perhaps, more noteworthy for its quality than its exent. His pe­ culiar style was, and is still, most highly appreciated by lovers of the simple and masculine beauties of the old English writers. jr. I. Sultivant, the €fom farmer, Michael L. SulEvant, recently of Burr Oaks, Ford county. III., who has for years been known as the owner of the largest farm in the" United States, and who has had a most remarkable history, died recently on board an Ohio rive* steamer, near Owensboro, Ky. He was aged 73 years, was a native of Ohio, and had lived in Illinois more than half of his life. He first came into prominence the owner of a farm in Virmillion county, known as " Broadlands." This was fifteen years ago, and at that time " Broadlands" was one of the largest farms in the United States. This he sold to Alexander in 1867. At this time he had obtained possession of 47,000 acres of fine prairie land in Ford county comprising all of Sullivant .township and much more. His farm was nearly eight, m îss . square. % Some, of s this land he had entered, some he had bought, from the Central railroad, and some he had obtained on warrants. When he moved^m the tract he built a modest farm-house in the center of it, to which he kept adding until now it is spread out into great dimensions. Here he lived and controlled the vast inter­ ests of his estate. He improved the land gradually, employing 400 hands at his most prosperous time. He devoted his energy to corn-raising, and had a theory that corn could be raised and sold at a profit for 15 cents. Five years ago he owed only $50,000 on the estate, at the same time holding $200,000 in good paper which could readily have been cashed. About this time the agents of the Eastern money-lenders persuaded hinl to enter on a scheme of rapidly iml proving his land in order to place it on th# market, and he began to borrow money from Hiram Sibley, capitalist, of Roches­ ter, N. Y., paying 10 per cent, and 5 per cent, commission, securing the loans by mortgage on his estate. He kept bor­ rowing, until finally he had placed $473,000 on his land. Most of this was borrowed through the late Corydon Weed, a banker of Bloomington. Draw­ ing this time property values began to shrink, and several corn crops failed. This, together with the falling prices of produce, brought about his ruin. At one time Sullivant was pay­ ing $5,000 per month interest. As times grew stringent he mortgaged his personal property to the amount of $200,000. Although it took 200 mules busy all winter to haul his corn crops to the market, he oould not meet the de­ mands. He made a noble effort to ex­ tricate himself, but m vain. Finally, disheartened, he assigned all his prop­ erty to P. K. Wheaton, of Chicago. His total indebtedness was nearly $1,500,- 000, which is more than the property would now bring. His wife had $60,- 000 in her <nrn right. This she lent him, taking a second mortgage, which was absorbed by the first, leaving her penniless, too. \ s' m JUT1> 'a* wax*** M. BAxttaa. 'Wmi mayfcrtufc fh Bil piafh, _ Or the wildfire of honor devour, v! $ v ' A* it aoonclMs the earth in ite wratt^n;- -. -- fco*'*r»a £riead»Mp *ul aB, '*» ' iove and IriymMrtg .Wfl,sM^NUt̂ < $*:•' • LÎ ASSASIR 'V: ^Heie a joy to the ̂ When IXanmon wo That never can touch bat it Rtaina it i:£ The hoart can never be sold; For love la a delicate Sower, " Wrattacre poiigtw by hia tonehr #ilf: It withers and fdea from the bower, ,̂ |BPapered Iqr fintane too mach.̂ /.j?,. •. ' Love and friendship and all, • * Love and friendship and all; ^ . ». (i<i w«LTK ia MB splendor may TNIIN^LE^'. t On love and friendship and all. ̂to P»at de îaes^ l̂i The gfeweraws of fortune and birth, , And love to the maiden that prizes V Thejewelsof honor and worth* - ... ̂ - May iMAii»v Md contentment attend iM \ V And earth all Its blaming* iiSapait; --- ;• |U»x fcaaven in its kindness befriend iad dwell in its temple--her heart. Love and friendship «ad all, -1"' Iiovc and friendship and aU; f 'ift'. ii ® e*va® in brightness is oyMa \ A , To love aad friecdsMp and aajWABWR, wig. " FjLEASAXTRIES. :iC 'A MAK can fasten Skates on Ms sister in much less than half the time he can fix a pair on some o0*er fellow's sister. Why is this? Figure it out and send us the answer on ice.--Brunswick tfew$. That's easy enough. It's be­ cause he would let his sister slide be­ fore 4fce oilier gfaL--futare (CM.) Time*. Dm you,ever see 'er rub 'er nqse? WOM ̂in short hair are dock-tresses. AN advanced pupil--A protruding eye. ̂ hair something to a door when it is banged? * ̂ A HEN begins to ps^Y intessst whea she gets her coop on. A. FASHIONABLE wrap--Hammering with the beer mug for more lager. ̂ AIM* that strong tea does kill some, aah; Yet Col. Johnson killed T--come, sah ! ; ̂ GARLIC is said to be a sovereign re%> edy for gout. There is no remedy lot garlic. . ' ~ WHY is a dead duck like a dead doc­ tor? Both have stopped quacking; ^that's the reason. A NEW brand of cigars is called "The Lottery Ticket ̂ because only one in 1 , 0 0 0 d r a w s . . > ^ ^ THE man who ptedicts the greatest spring freshet ever known has arrive4 on the scene. ADVERTISINO is'the oil whioh trades ̂ men put in their lamps. They that ace unwise put no oil in/' ' " *' "MONEY," says rn American editor, * ̂ the missing link between' our subscribe ers and the editor." AN old bachelor's proverb: Sorro*6 grow less and less every time'they told, just like the ages of women. ' "YOU'VE heard Browne's married Again?" "No; has he? Stupid ass! Hip didn't deserve to lose his first wife." "W* had a shortcake for , tea," said a little girl to a little boy. " So had we," he answered; " so short that I didn't geif a bit of it." t A YOUNG woman wrote to a dry-goods firm for a sitaatioq as sails-lady." She was referred to the presiding elder of a sail-loft. LITTTS boy, at the opening of a pro­ posed spelling-match-- " Let's start Mir, grandmother. You take ' Nebuchad­ nezzar ' and I'll take ' cat.'M "WHY, Willie," said his mother at dinner, " you can't possibly eat another ̂ plate of pudding, can you ? " " Oh, yes, I can, ma; one more pl4te will'just "fill the Bill*--ITmo Haven 1 ir a lady meets a lady *2V Goming down the . Need a lady teU a lady • ' &». '.fw ' *' ihat she • looks so •wedp'*-; M' • ̂ ! For well she knows before she get* rf f • t. Fairly out of sight i ' She'll turn around and ear ont lo|ULv - a - What a horrid firirfht." ,.' * --XtmiraOmette. • k}! A CHATTANOOGA darkeyfw^o was^mie of a jury whioh failed to convict for want of evidence, explained to his brethren that the culprit was "released on s'picion." * WHO IS it, with fnnereal tread, ̂ / Comes slowly home and goes to tiofef And utters what is best unsaidf Life'; i - Ha he who's fished since jroae,th |̂np ̂ Subsisting on a single bunn, And after all's caught nary one. fll plumber came down like a wolf on tM fold?' Hia pockets w#re ladep withfoldar and gold. And for four mortal hours he made love, to the cook, " And seventeen dollars were charged up in his book. •--Wheeling header. ** WHAT I want to get at is tiie animus of the transaction," said the Judge/ **B«t, your Honor," said the complain­ ant, " there wasn't any muss at all. He oame np quiet like and grabbed the coat, and was off with it before I saw what he was at. No, • sit, there wasn't a n y m u B f t . " ' • " " • i m a m ' • WHAT makes tb* man itppear Asked little Jacob Crow; ,» , * What makes him draw that awfnl i ̂ And curse this jolly snow?" « t * ̂ gttn, my boy,"'his father i1 n. * Be still, and ldame him no ,̂ »4^;for cruel £at« has set him dow% . Upon a corner lot." i . <•* ̂ •A. ha.z 4 --Fulton Timet. *<OEL8 and pomade are on the hair." This is a sensible edict/ of fashion. Hereafter a young man can\ help a young lady to say nothing in particular on Sxinday evening without having hv ypst soiledl--î orri«to«m Herald. in* i !« - . S, ̂ I v<« #. fil I 'tlx .M* r „ -i. »" :Wz- t» t'i t f < •" -t- |- • ' * •fi1 y 'vy:. , S**, . / - , r • - > • • " / ^ V ^R ' Z ' - } » ^ - S.% • ft of Si,4,4 rlj»| ; 1* v ^ hksr