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H. A. LONDON, Jr.,
EDITOR AND rUOlMUETOU.
TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION:
One square, one insertion.
One square, two insertlons,
One square , one mouth, -
Onorory, onoyoar, -One
copy ,kIx mouths -Ouo
copy, threo mouths -
PITTSBOliO', CHATHAM CO., N. C. OCTOBER 31, 1878.
For larger advertisements liberal contracts will be
Cheapest Goods & Best Variety
CAN 11H Fol ND AT
to Goois ReccM eyeryWeei.
You can always find what you wish at ion
ilou's. lie keeps everything.
Dry Goods, Clothing, Carpeting, Hardware,
Tin Ware, Drugs, Crockery, Confectionery
Shoes, Boot, Caps, Hats, Carriage
Materials.. Sewing Machines,Oil8,
Putty, Glass, Paints, Nails,
Iron, Plows and Plow
Sole, Upptr and Harness Leathers,
Shawls, Blankets, Um
brellas, Corsets, Belts, La
dies Neck-Ties and Ruffs, Ham
burg Edgings, Laces, Furniture, Ac.
Best Shirts in the Country for $1.
Best 5-cent Clear, Chewing and
Smoking Tobacco, Snuff,
Salt and Molasses.
My stock is always complete in every line,
and goods always sold at the lowest prices.
Special inducements to Cavil Buyers.
My motto, "A nimble Sixpence is better
than a slow Shilling."
EiT-All kinds of produce taken.
W. L. LONDON,
Pittsboro', N. Carolina.
H. A. LONDON, Jr.,
Attorney at Law,
PITTSBOUO', X. .
ft-Special Attention Paid to
DR. A. J. YEAGER,
PERMANENTLY LOCATED AT
FXTTSBOBQ'f N. C.
All Work Warranted. Satisfaction Guaranteed.
R. H. COWAN,
Staple & Fancy Dry Goods, Cloth
ing, Hats Boots, Shoes, No
CIIOCKERY and OROCCRIKS.
PITTSBORO', N. C.
11ALEIG1I, . CAR.
P. n. CAMERON, President.
W. E. ANDERSON, Vice Pre.
W. II. HICKS, &e'y.
The only Home Life Insurance Co. in
All its fund loaned out AT HOME, and
among our own people. We do not send
North Carolina money abroad to build np other
Btates. It is one of the most successful com
panies of its age in the United States. Its as
sets are amply sufficient. All losses paid
promptly. Eight thousand dollars paid in the
last two years to families in Chatham. It will
cost a man aged thirty years only five cents a
day to insure for one thousand dollars.
Apply for further information to
H.A. LONDON, Jr., Gen. Agt.
PITTSBOKO', N. C.
Dr. A. D. MOORE,
PITTSBORO', N. CM
Offer, fail professional services to the citiieni of
Chatham. With an experience or thirtj years ne
Lue to tfiTe entire satisfaction.
Attorney at Law,
PITTSBOEO', IT. 0.,
Moore and Orange, and in the 8npremeand Federal
O. 8. POE,
Dry Goods, Groceries & General Merchandise,
Ail kinds of Flows and Castings, Buggy
tutorials, Furniture, ote.
PITTttBORO', N. CAR.
A ODltr-AXION TO l'OE'S RAVEN.
Om-e uion a summer evening.
As 1 lay resposlng, dreaming.
Will lo the twinkling stars were teaming,
Ami their light was faintly gleaming
Through the window of my room,
Suddenly beside my pillow,
1.1 ke the murmur of it liillnw.
Or the sigh of weeping willow,
'Mid the shadow mid the gloom,
There was heard a gentle sound,
floating on the air around.
As an eelio from ahove ;
And I. waking, saw a dove
IVivhed iihiii the whi tuned head
Of a statue near my bed.
And it sivmed with soft, low cooing
.My lone heart to soothe with Wooing,
l-lke an angel from the sky.
Or a spirit hovering nigh.
While I lay eniraneed and dreaming.
Startled hy the eeho seeming
To he wh.sperod from ahove.
in the starlight faintly gleaming.
With its form or licauty learning,
I heheld the snowy dove :
With a thrill of wonder, gazing
on the visitor, amazing,
1 demanded : "Who are you y"
And theitentle bird of whiteness,
With its snowy rolteof brightness.
Answered with a coo:
"lam sent," he said, "from Aiden,
Hy a fair and lovelv .maiden.
With a message unto thee ;
I am come to soothe thy sorrow,
liid thee from despair to borrow
lio)e that thou her face shall see ;
For thy eherihed one lb living,
And her thoughts lo thee is giving.
On a bright and distant shore ;
And 1 come, her carrier dove,
With a message from thy hive.
Who is thine for evermore."
Hy this joyful news excited,
Kapluied. lavished and delighted,
1, the snowy bird addressing.
Asked, with earnest voice imiulrlug.
What my soul was most desiring.
That her name to me expressing.
He would set my heart at rest
Mill the tumult In my breast.
And assure me that my maiden.
In the distant llelds of Aideli
alted for ine on that shore -
Woidd be mine forevennore.
Then 1 sjMike with greater fervor,
1, the m:iideus ardent lover :
"Oocs my own departed live?"1
(To the bird of whiteness listening
H hile my eager ejes were glistening.
For the answer he should give );
"'I ell me, o thou carrier dove.
Of my absent, cherished love,
Whom 1 knew in davs of yore,
lias she passed the shining portal
Of the blessed land immortal,
(ioing through the golden d"or?
(Joes she move in light and splendor.
Do the graces all attend her,
On that fair and distant shore V
Words and tones and looks revealing
All my depths of inward feeling.
Moved, airectod by my pleading.
And my anxious question heeding.
Thus the dove, my soul discerning,
Answer made, these words returning ;
"In the distant fields of Aiden,
On a bright, Klysian shore,
Dwells a lair and lovely maiden.
And her name is F.Iinore ;
"Mid the tlovvels about her blooming,
, Mid the d..rs sweet iierfuming
All the balmy air around.
She, arrayed in robe of whiteness.
Walks an angel In her brightness.
With a wreath immortal crowned.1
Then the bird, his wings unfolding.
Left me. as 1 lay beholding.
Filled with traiisHrt and delight :
With a soft, sonorous coo.
Nodding, bidding me aideu.
Through theojieu w indow (lew
tut into the glomy night.
Hut the bright, enchanting vision
of the distant fields Klysian,
And my cherished Klinore,
Asa lair and lovely maiden.
Dwelling In the land of Adieu,
Is my light for evermore.
There shall 1, my loved one greeting.
At our future, early meeting.
in that distant, radiant shore,
W ith ecstatic joy and gladness,
Free from parting, pain and sadness,
flasp again my Klinore,
rail her mine Tor evermore !
Hy Rev. J. H. Martin, I). D.
TWO IMPORTANT PAPERS.
"I don't know what I shall tlew with
that 'ere boy," said Farmer Long to his
wile, as they sat by the lire that .winter
morning, "lie's more liarum skarum than
that State's reform-school boy was."
"Well, father, have patience with him
for the sake of his folks. I think there's
something in Jim that will surprise you,
one of these days."
"I dunno whether he'll surprise me
enny more'n he has or not. Last spring
he made b'leve he knowedall 'bout hiling
down sap, 'nd surprised me by hurnin the
bottom uv the sap-pan eout, 'nd sett in' the
sap-house on lire. Last summer he broke
more tools in hay in' time than all the rest
uv us together. And dear me ! Yeou'd
orter seen him dig pertaters last fall 1 I'll
venter he cut every third one in tew
struck at 'em ez ef he was splittin' rock
maple logs. 'Nd neow he's broke my
best three-lined pitch-fork, some way, a
feedin' the cattle. He's on'y 1G y'r old.
Ei he doos this in the green tree, what in
nater '11 he do in the dry V
After these remarks about the boy he
had taken to keep until he was of age, the
fanner started for the barn. He was
bending over the great meal chest, just
inside the barn door, as a tandem team
was turning around the corner of the barn.
This team consisted of a wild yearling
steer and the boy, Jim Fowler. T
"team" was on the "dead" run. The
youth had hold of the steer's tail with his
left hand, and held aloft a milking stool in
Mr. Long was unaware of danger; and
when something struck him, and immedi
ately he found himself on his back in the
meal-chest, his first , thought was of an
earthquake or a tornado or other dread
outbreak of forces. He emerged from the
chest just in time to see his lime-backed
steer pass on into the stable and Jim
Fowler arise half stunned from the floor.
"Yeou young scampi" he thundered,
"Yeou'll murder somebody yet er - er I
shall, if yeou don't jstop yer dumbed
The boy did not laugh at the miller-like
appearance of the man." His own face
was quite as white as the farmer's as he
"I'm awful sorry, Mr. Long."
"I dunno whether yer be er not," re
plied the latter. "But I'll tell yer neou
'nd here, Jim Fowler, what's what.
When yer father died yeou haden't a re
"No, sir, they wan't none left," broke
in the youth; and the tears filled his eyes.
"I promised him a little afore he died,
I'd take care on ye until yeou was old
enough ter take care uv ye'self; 'nd do
well by ye give ye a common school
eddication 'nd so on. 'Nd I mean ter dew
it if yer conduct don't become onbarable.
But yeou must be more stiddy 'nd man
like nd not plague me ter death by yer
recklessness. D'ye hear?"
"Yes, I'm goin to try, Mr. Long."
"That's the sorter talk. I want ye ter
go ter school 'an git ter be ez smart cz
Jennie is, efyecan. Yeou er tew years
older'n she is 'nd y'aint nowhere side
"I know it. I aint nowhere side by
Jennie, the farmer's daughter, was a
bright girl; and as pretty as a pink. Jim
did not wonder that her fat her and mother
were proud of her; or that they felt there
was a vast difference between him and
her. He thought there was himself; and
he believed she did, for one day of the
last summer, when he stumbled onto her
flower-bed, she spoke sharply at him and,
if he had not misunderstood her, called
him a "beggar."
He was careless and stupid; if she had
said as much, he would have thought it
justifiable under the circumstances. But
tor her to speak in that way as if his mis
fortune was his fault made him almost
hate her. He did not answer back, but
thetook he gave her kept her from ever
repeating the taunt; and also from forget
ting that she had once made it.
Yet he continued to be the same care
less "Jim" up lo this winter morning.
But when Mr. Long had administered his
reproof and returned to the house to brush
the meal from his clothes, the youth fell
into a profound meditation, out of which
he came with this ejaculation:
"I'll do it! '
When the next term of school began,
there were two scholars from Farmer
Jennie ami Jim.
They went together; but separated
when they got there, for Jennie was in a
higher department than Jim could enter.
This was the first term the latter had ever
begun with a determination to learn.
That he was now so determined is provetl
by the answer he gave to his teacher on
the first day of school, when she asked
him, among other things, what he wanted
to do; it was this: "1 want ter git ter know
ez much ez Jennie Long does."
How dul lie come out? Well, he went
to school every term for three years. He
studied evenings, and all the lime when
not at work, during vacations. By inces
sant devot ion to his books through those
three years, he was able to master all the
text-hooks used in that institution. For
the last two terms of his course he was a
member of Jennie's classes. He graduated
when she did; and, in most of their joint
studies, was marked several points above
How did Jim think he came out? Going
home with Jennie that last day, after
school had closed, he repeated the words
Mr. Long had spoken three years betore:
Y'aint nowhere side uv her;" and
thought they were truer now than ever.
Had the "want ter gil ter know'' with
which he began, given place to a "want"
less likely to be satisfied?
If Jennie had been aware that her own
views concerning the result of their rivalry
if it was such coincided with Jim's
she probably would not have expressed
herself as she did to her mother, that eve
ning, when they two were alone. "1
suppose," said she, "bethinks he's done
a wonderful tiling; but 1 don't. If 1 hail
studied and studied and studied as he lias,
1 should have been far ahead of the great
great giant. But of course I don't
care a fig about it, mamma."
Whether Jennie's remarks indicated a
happy frame of mind or not, might be a
question. But without question she used
a very happy word when she spoke of
Jim as a giant, for he was a mighty youth.
Jennie was really petite. She knew it;
but it did not trouble her that those girls
who were familiar with her called her
"Little Jennie Long."
Jim knew that he was of great stature
for his age; and was a little sensitive on
that point. I don't think lie fancied be
ing called "Big Jim." And il may have
been his aversion to that name that ac
counted partly for his blushing so deeply
one morning of his last term, when he
had taken his seat at the openingof school.
Some mischievous youth had written a
stanza on the blackboard which was on
the wall that faced the seats anil written
it in such a large hand that every scholar
could read it from where he sau This is
a copy of the lolly verse that the teacher
hastened to erase, as soon as she dis
covered what the scholars were laughing
"Hut oiio dares write what every one knows
That several little fellers fret,
Hecause a chance lliey never get
To walk and talk witu Jennie Long.
Who hinders them y fiyJini the strong.
He comes with her; ami Willi her goes;
And thinks she wauls him to, 1 s'pose. "
When Jim's eyes caught that, his lace
turned very red, as red as Jennie's.
The youth that wrote that ioeiu "dared"
to write it; but he did not dare to make
Of course it was nothing but "boy's
play," but Jim felt that he was near
enough to being a man to look at it from a
man's standpoint. And looking at it in
that light, he thought it proper to tell
Jennie that night when they went home
that he was very sorry that some mean
fellow had annoyed her in such a way;
that he would find out the puppy who
wrote the stuff and give him a sound
But Jennie, to the surprise of Jim, could
not see wherein she had been injured to
an extent that demanded any such course
as he proposed to take. And she dis
suaded him from his sanguinary purpose.
Not easily, however, but by arguments
made in an earnest manner, and urged
more &and more strongly, until he was
Without meaning it, perhaps, Jennie
said some things, before they reached her
father's door, that were calculated to mis
lead Jim, as to the place he occupied in
her thoughts. It was nothing positively
encouraging; but something that came
nearer to being that than anything she had
ever before said to him. Of course it
must have been unintentional, for nothing
in that line was repeated during their
walks to and from school the remainder
of the term. And when the term closed,
as was said before, Jim felt that she was
farther from him thaa ever. He saw with
the clearness of vision that is characteristic
of young men in his state of mind, the
hopelessness of any attempt to make him
self her equal in any respect, and then
acted as a youth in his circumstances
usually does. He intended to remain with
Mr. Long until he was of age, for he knew
he could be of great service to the farmer
in the two years that intervened between
the present and that time. And he wished
to repay the latter for his kindness to him.
For the first few months of those two
years, he was apparently quite self-possessed
in his association with Jennie,
But he broke down utterly succumbed
before six months had passed, proposed;
and told Jennie he did not blame her
for not caring for him, and hoped she
would forgive him for offering such a poor
creature as himself to one like her; that he
could not help it; that he felt he must
know what he was toher, and now lie did
Jim had discovered Jennie the evening
when he asked that question, sitting on a
bench under the great maple, back of the
house. There she left him, and went into
the house; and there for a long time he
remained alter she had gone, sitting in her
place, with a sensation at his heart unlike
anything he had ever before experienced.
Not contented to let "well enough" alone
he had gone from the negative comfort of
conjecture, into the positive pain of cer
tainty. The next morning he entered upon his
labors with less encouragemc nt than
Jacob did upon his, after Lahan's second
promise. Less by as iuch as a refusal is
less than a promise.
And Jennie? If he- night's rest had
been less sweet and refreshing than usual,
she showed no signs of it She appeared
to be merrier than she had been for some
time. Early in the day, when she and her
mother were engaged in the labors of the
household, she surprised the latter very
much by a "season" of laughing, a
season of very violent laughing.
"Jennie!" exclaimed Mrs. Long, at
last, dropping into a chair, "What does
"Why, mamma, it's the funniest thing
I've been proposed to."
"Proposed lev By whom?"
"By our Jim, Jennie?"
"Our Jinv mamma."
"The foolish boy ! Of course you told
him, kindly, tint you both were too young
to think of marriatre. Your lather was
twenty-six, and I was twenty-two when'
we were married. NY hat did you tell him,
"I told him no !'
"That was right; only I I hope you
did not hurt his feelings any more than
was necessary. I trust he will forget all
about it soon"
"What, mamma ?"
"1 mean, Jennie, that I hope he will
see how foolish he has been, and forget all
about you before he goes away."
"O, certainly 1 I hope he will will
forget and see how it is, before then.
He's poor, you know very. I I told
him so. 1 wanted ti help him forget,
as you say, and so I said in case I married,
in the course of twenty or twenty -five
years, I should probably wed a very rich
man; then I shouldn't be any trouble to
my hus husband; but that I shouldn't
do for a poor man at all."
"Well, Jennie, I do sincerely wish that
he may soon care as little for you as you
do for him."
As t he months passed away, Mrs. Long,
watching Jim, concluded that he had not
suffered much by the rejection he had
received. The kind-hearted woman was
glad to think it was so. Considering all
things, the less attraction her daughter had
for the young fellow, the better.
Jennie, also, hoping as we may suppose
that Jim, for the sake of his peace of mind,
would out-grow his affection for her, after
a little while, decided that he had. She
was very glad of it. And yet there was a
tinge of melancholy in the discovery.
She was glad for his sake, because he had
suffered so; but it was abstractly consid
ered a very solemn thought that so strong
an attachment was so short-lived. Not
that she would have had it last longer in
this particular case, oh, no; but there
might come a time when she should want
to know that the one who had so great a
regard for her was to have it forever. But
what, was she to expect? Was Jim a fair
sanq-le of mankind in this respect?
If Farmer Long had been an observing
man, during these days he would have
seen coining into Jim's face somelhing
that could not have failed to remind him
of the lime when the youth's mother and
Mrs. Lng were girls, and the best-looking
ones in the village. The lather's strength
had come into Jim's body and limbs, but
he was setting his mother's face by install
ments. These were to be his possessions
when he was of age.
As his 21st year drew toward its close,
he could not tell whether lo be glad or
sorry for it. His reason told him to go
and forg-jl he had not forgotten you see
in theexcitcmcnt of business somewhere,
his disappointment. But that heart of his
kept forever answering "Stay another
year." lie was in this state of mind the
day before he was twenty-one. After
dinner that day he went and sat on the
great maple. He went there thatjhe might
be alone to decide whether he would follow
the dictates of his reason or give way to
the longings of his heart. Benson at last
carried the day. He arose from his seat,
and said aloud, and decisively, "I shall
go.' It was settled. He had told the
family all along that he should go away
when he became of age. He was glad
they Knew it and had become reconciled
to (perhaps wished) it. He was set upon
looking straight aliead now, and deter
mined not to look back.
And he did look straight ahead -Look?
he stared, for just a second or two, and
then went ahead, straight and fast. Up
the slightty ascending meadow Jennie
was running toward the house; and not
far behind her was the four-year-old lime
back, pursuing. It was fortunate for
Jennie Long then that Jim was near; and
that he was "big" and strong and brave.
Jim was bent on getting between Jennie
and that mad bnte and he could not stop
to find weapons He rushed past her and
at that moment her strength gave way and
she fell. If Jiia had made a mismove
but he did not. With great dexterity he
seized the aninal by the horns as it came
up, and putting forth all his strength drew
its head with spcu force and suddenness
to one side as to throw it down. Then
springing to where Jennie had arisen and
stood unable to move, from fright, he
caught her in his arms and bore her to a
place of safety over the wall.
When Jennie could speak, she turned
lo Jim and asled, "What if you had been
"O, there would have been a beggar
less, that's all " said he, and he walked
An hour later Jim, in a deep reverie,
was sitting inder the old maple. He
heard the rust ing of a dress, the sound of
approaching fret, and then Jennie's gentle
He arose ani looked at her.
4 'J im, do you hate me?"
"No, worse than that for me."
"Worse? Ihen you don't feel to
wards me as is, yon did once ?''
"No, for I love you more."
"Well, then you may read what I have
written on this paper; but don't open it
till I get a long way off."
She handed him the paper and turned
and walked in the direct ion of the house.
Jim was not long in opening that note,
Don't go away. Jennie."
Nor did the writer of it get a "long way"
off before he overtook her.
When Jim and Jennie entered the
house together, a litt le later. Farmer Long
looked at them sharply for a moment, and
then, as if what he saw warranted him,
arose and also handed Jim a paper, saying
as he did so:
"I sh'd like ter have yeou look this ere
doekerment over'n see ef it is kerrect. I
don 't want no mistake 'bout it. The place
that jines mine was fur sale 'n I've bot it.
This cre's the deed mt "
And so it was. And that doekerment"
was made to run to James Fowler and his
heirs. -Springfield Republican.
The misgovernment of the world is car
ried on with such an amount of talk that
one has seldom time to think how little
would suffice. Half-a-dozen well chosen
words would generally be better than
whole conferences and debates. Both wise
and foolish people have broken much si
lence in praising it. The silent man is
often enabled, by the value attached to
his rare utterances, to say more bv his si
lence than a voluble talker by a string of
pnrases. l Here is a kind of silence which
is the reverse of talk, and is in itself elo
quent. A prisoner who reserves his de
fence, a witness who refuses to answer a
question, a man who holds his tongue
when his character is assailed in short,
all the cases in which "silence gives con
sent ' are rather silence as the negation of
speech than as a positive quantity. It is
quite easy to imagine loquacity in a deaf
mute, lie ma' not nave power to utter a
sound, yet, in the strict sense, he is not
perhaps a silent person. And silence kept
on purpose to express, by its very exis
tence, an emotion of the mind, is only a
substitution of signs for speech. Such is
the reticence displayed by the well-known
epitaph on a tombstone in Fulham church
yard, where, after the name, age and date
of death of the lady buried below, three
words only are added by way ol epitaph
"Silence is best." The estimation of the
deceased by her surviving relations could
not be more fully expressed had the whole
stone been covered. When a character is
to be given to a drunken or dishonest ser
vant, the omission of the words honest and
sober is sufficient. But this is not the si
lence of quiet people. Too often they re
seinble rather the chimpanzee than the
parrot, and are not talkative because talk
may involve them in further exertion.
But it is not easy to pry into their motives
of action, or rather of inaction. The Ul
ster folk have a proverb, "Nobody can tell
what is in the pot when the lid is en." It
is not the most unselfish people who talk
least about themselves. To some the facts
which relate to their personal history are
too serious for words.
Unspeakable are the emotions of silent
people; a sense of personal dignity or
shame keeps them quiet; but to most of
them is vouchsafed a single confidential
friend, into whose ear all the pent-up feel
ings ;tre poured from time to time.
This is especially the case with quiet
girls. What they say in their moments
of confidence we canot pretend to know.
Whether they are really quiet or only shy
is equally beyond the superficial observer.
That they are not found to impede the
pleasant flow of soul in ordinary society is
because they are eminenily good listeners,
and do not yawn at the utmost common
places. That another should commit him
selfto speech, with or without anything to
say, is enough to interest them. They are
thought sympathetic, and often draw
forth the tale of woe long hidden. Men
begin by telling them of other loves, and
often end by loving them for themselves.
In this they have advantage over the more
gushing sister. They lake no notice of a
foolish speech, and a man imagines he is
safe in their hands. He can say things to
them which, said to any one else, might
have serious consequences. A quiet cousin
is thus often a great blessing to a man.
lie can talk a matter out as if with him
self, and imagine afterwards that he has
h; d counsel upon it. The quiet girl hears
him with outward sympathy, agrees with
all his views, and, when asked to help
him to a decision, gives her casting vote
in favor of the course he already prefers.
He finds after a time that her quiet rccep
tiveness is grateful to him ; and, when she
has seen him safe through an engagement
or two, and a-dozen flirtations more or less
serious, he suddenly finds out, or at least
tells her, that he has really been in love
with her only all the time. Sometimes
this happy result is Drought about by
scheming, and it is the great drawback of
quietness that duplicity is so often attri
buted to it. The quiet girl of the family
regulates the autumn tour; she silently
directs its goings to the place where
her bosom friend, male or female, is to be
met with, and she will bury her sisters in
a northern moor or bake them at Brighton
with equal and unruffled composure.
True, she never asks to go anywhere in
particular; but at odd intervals she haz
ards a remark which suggests the place,
and now and then reads out a paragraph
from a letter or newspaper in which its
advantages are set forth. What she does
say is listened to by the family, for she is
always sure of an audience for her rare
utterance, and gets a reputation for good
sense which she 'does not always deserve.
She is never in scrapes, or, if she is, keeps
them to herself. Her allowance is never
overdrawn, or, if it is, no one hears her
grumble that she cannot make ends meet.
There seems to be a method in her doings
to which people instinctively yield, and
she gets her own way, not so much be
cause she tries to get it, as because nobody
thinks of opposing her. Like the flies
whose feet are provided with soft pads, so
that you do not feel them when they alight
on you, her influence works unnoticed,
and everything seems ordered for her
rather than by her. She almost monopo
lizes the attention of the lady's-maid she
is supposed to share with her sisters, and
can always manage a cup of tea in her
room or breakfast in bed. She can flirt,
on occasion, in a way no frivolous girl
dares to attempt, but she never writes a
compromising letter, and has a most con
venient want of memory. She accepts
presents which her sisters would have to
refuse, and keeps them laid by in cotton
wool to look at during the hour she is
doing her back hair and saying her prayers.
She retires gracefully in favor of the other
girls, as if willing to let them shine, and
gets her reward by the approbation of the
old people of the party.
Quiet men find her agreeable, and won
der why she is said to be silent, but this
is cmeuy oecause sue aoes not bore them
by insisting on answers to her questions.
When she develops into a wife, for she
always marries at least once, she gets
her own way in everything. Her hus
band probably choose her because he
uiougni u would turn out differently, and
nnus wnen too late mat lie could not possi
bly have made a more complete mistake.
Children are always fond of her; sons re
spect, if they do not creatlv love oniet
mothers, for they have never heard them
taiK nonsense, servants never give them
short answers, as their words are few and
decisive, and the poor people think them
dignified and mines of hidden wisdom. In
fact, they go through the world under a
kind of false pretense; they get credit for
great depth of feeling, and it is for some
reason thought well worth while to win
their love. Only the experienced man
estimates them at their right value, and
admires the merry little sister with the
sharp tongue, the pleasant smile, and as
he knows well, a warmer heart and truer
character than underlie the staid demeanor
f the quiet girl.
Quietness is sometimes a sign of bodily
health. The nervous man who is always
stirring is seldom strong. But when a
man is thoroughly wrapped up in himself
and his own importance, perfectly satisfied
with his position and prospects, the cut
of his clothes, the length of his whiskers,
the attenuation of his umbrella, and luster
of his hat the chances are that he is very
quiet. Such men are habitually well
dressed; but as they get on in life they
cling to old fashions. They are not con
siderate for others, yet they give very
little trouble. , They exact the utmost ser
vice, but make no fuss about it. They are
painfully regular and punctual, but never
seem put out by other people's want of
order. Thev are bores at a dinner mrtv
wet blankets at a pic nic, mere sticks at a
bail; out excellent as officers, admirable
narsoi.s. and much housrhl after bv match
making mothers. It is they who carry off
tuc neiresses; wno always save money;
who are never in debt or diflicnltv
other men are; who are regular in their
devotions, and invaluable on committee,
where thev alwavs tret their own wnv
without trouble or fuss. They habitually
wait till ever one else has spoken, and
then make a single remark which concludes
the matter, and which seems as if it had
risen to the surface, like cream, of itself.
FIGHTING THE BEES.
Last Sunday two married ladies liv
ing on the AVest Side started for a drive
to Northeast. When below Harbo -
creek they thought it would be refresh
ing to get a drink of fresh buttermilk,
and for that purpose drove into a
farmer's door-yard. One of the ladies
immediately set out for the house,
while tne other proceeded to secure the
horse. She had just got the animal
tied when she was startled by a hum
hum-hum, and iu an instant was sur
rounded by a swarm of bees that some
how got their dander up and were oat
for blood. The horse commenced to
rear and plunge as the tormentors set
tled in squads upon his neck and head,
and threatened to kick the carriage to
pieces. The lady was in about as bad
a fix as the horse, and was severely
stung abouj the face and he d, and her
hands, which were the prirc'pal object
of attack, were bad'y swollen. While
fighting the bees she shouted desper
ately, liO, for a man, a man, to relieve
me from these dreadful bees," but no
man came to her rescue, and her com
panion, seeing the state of atlairs,
started to her assistance, but was driven
into the house by the bees, who made a
bee-line for her. The farmer's wife came
to the door and shouted that her hus
band was not at home, and thai there
wasn't a man on the farm. The woman
who was out among the bees finally ur
tied the horse and ran him out into the
road. She stuck her sw ollen hands i nto
the first convenient mud-puddle and
drowned several bees. She was rejoined
by her companion, who had made a cir
cuit around the house, and the two
headed for Northeast. Their trouble
wasn't over. A good-sized squad of
bees started a er the carriage, and this
well-nigh frig'itened them to death.
They noticed a farmer, coming up the
road, and plied the whip vigorously,
and requested him for heaven's sake to
jump out and fight the bees. The
granger didn't care much about doing
it, but said he couldn't resist the ladies'
appeal, and he went for the bees and
received the worst of it. The pests
settled on his head and were putting in
Vvely work. He shrieked with pain,
and in some way got off his coat, and
threw it over his head, and amid liowis
and curses whipped up his horse and
drove on with the bees as comnany.
We are "shamed to say it, but the
women laughed heartily to see the fel
low fight the bees. ifrie Dispatch.
A NOVEL FIGHT.
A New Orleans gentleman tells the
following curious anecdote: In Natchi
toches parish a pedestrian noticed on a
lonely road a frog fighting desperately
with a tarantula, and the tarantula re
turned the compliment by stinging the
frog. Every time the frog got stung
he would hop to the side of the road,
where some green plantain was grow
ing, and nibble'off a piece, after swal
lowing which he would hop back to the
fight. This being repeated about half
a dozen times, the human spectator re
solved to satisfy his curiosity, took out
a jack-knife and lopped off the plantain
close to the roots, while the frog and
tarantula were carrying on their duel.
When the frog got stung for the seventh
time he leaped back to where the plan
tain had been, and not finding it ut
tered a peculiarly helpless cry, stag
gered a little, vainly tried to hop into
the high grass, shuddered, fell over on
his side and gave up the ghost.
Kraus, the executioner of Hoedel,
is the lion of the day in Berlin. He
wore full evening dress when he be
headed Hoedel, and on bis breast were
medals gained in the wars of 1SG6 and
1870. He would accept no compensa
tion for this work, considering himself
paid by the honor it afforded. Magis
trates and court officers warmly shook
his hand after the deed, and he was
invited to many entertainment
A popular steak-holder the grid
The best illustrated paper out a
About 8000 new pupils have been
added to the Brooklyn public schools
Mr. Worth, the modiste, was once
a printer. He is still the man who
makes up the forms.
All the white lead works in the
city of Pittsburgh, l'a., eight of them
are in full operation.
Baltimore is badly in need of a
dry dock capable of taking in and re
pairing the largest class of steamships.
A Western lawyer included in his
bill against his client : " To waking up
in the night and thinking about your
The revenue of the German Em
pire for the last year fell short of its
estimate by 15,000,000 marks. Over
A new application of the telephone
is in collecting election returns. It
was recently used in learning the result
of the New Haven, Conn., school elec
tions, and much time was saved.
At the annual meeting of the Scot
tish Football Association at Glasgow,
the Earl of Rosebery was elected Presi
dent of the Association for the ensuing
year by a large majority over Lord
Colin Campbell and the Marquis of
At one of the schools in Cornwall,
England, the Inspector asked the chil
dren if they could quote any text of
Scripture which forbade a man having
two wives. One of the children eagerly
quoted in reply the text, "No man can
serve two masters."
Mr. Geo. E. Whitney, organist of
the Boston Church of the Immaculate
Conception, will remain a teacher at
the New England Conservatory of
Music, having refused an offer of $5000
a year made by the managers of the
new music school at Cincinnati.
Queen Victoria, like other marms,
has her trouble with the servants. " I
am Queen of Great Britain and Em
press of India," she is said to have
said, the other morning ; u but I have
not power enough to make one of my
servants put coals on the fife, if she
has been hired to look after the bed
A recent calculation says that the
demand for lumber increases in the
United States at the rate of 25 per
cent, per annum. The forests decrease
at the rate of 7,000,000 acres a year.
The fences alone are valued at $1,800,
u00,000, and they cost each year $93,
000,000. The heirship to the Chadwick es
tate, in England, which has been in
Chancery for over a century, is said to
have been traced to Thomas Chadwick,
of West Philadelphia. The trial of
the case is to occur at London in Octo
ber, and he has been notified to appear.
The fortune reaches the enormous sum
Johannes Marchi, a prosperous
peanut vender at Providence, It. I.,
who came from Italy live years ago, has
retained so much patriotism and love
for his fatherland that when he learned
recently that be had been d railed into
the Italian army he sold out his busi
ness and irerared to return home im
Mrs. Mary Kelly, of 1'amrapo,
X. J., while sewing, the other night,
pulled the needle violently, and as she
was bending over her work the instru
ment entered her eye to the extent of
an eighth of an inch. Mrs. Kelly
tainted, and her husband pulled the
needle out. It is probable that she will
lose the sight of her eye.
Three little boys on a recent Sun
day were stopped on the street by an
elderly gentleman, who, perceiving that
they had bats and a ball with them,
asked one of the number this question :
uUoy, can you tell me where all
naughty boys go to who play ball upon
Sunday?" "Over back of Johnson's
dam," replied the youngster.
A new purse is said to have lx?en
invented in London. When you open
it it appears simply to Ije an ordinary
portmonnaie, but by touching a spring
at the side, t lie I rigger of a small re
volver drops into your hand; a portion
of the end of the purse opens out, dis
charging the muzzle, and you suddenly
find yourself with it most useful pro
tector. A Pittslield (Mass.) shopkeeper
was surprised the other day at the ap
pearance of a man who returned him
$1, with interest for ten years, saying
that at that time he had bought a dol
lar's worth of goods, giving in payment
a So bill, and that on counting the
change he found he had $5 left, but his
conscience had so troubled him that he
felt that he must return the amount,
A statement of the export of pro
disions from the principal Atlantic ports
puring the month of August, has been
crcpared by Mr. Joseph Nimmo, Jr.,
vhlef of" the Bureau of Statistics at
Washington, from which it appears
that there were shipped 44,0:r,CO.'
pounds of bacon and hams, 4,541,090
of pork, 3,87:i;$4l of leef, 10,923,723
lard, 4,491,277 butter, 0,452,495 cheese,
and 3500 dozen eggs.
Fashions Fkkaks. The bulk of the
first importations of French dresses for
the autumn and winter consists of short
suits intended for walking dresses for
the street, but which have also been
adopted in this country for morning
dresses in the house. The prevailing
colors are Bordeaux red, dark garnet,
myrtle green, bronze and hazel brown.
Gray is most often employed in cloth in
mingled effects with blue, bronze and
dark garnet. Blue is used in plaids,
and also to relieve the dark grounds of
the figured velvets that form vests and
trimmings. Prune and plum colors
also appear again associated with Bor
deaux red and old gold.