Decatur Democrat, Volume 26, Number 42, Decatur, Adams County, 19 January 1883 — Page 4

THING* IN THE BOTTOM DRAWER. Tber*' are whip* and tops Th re r-nb »e* which no lit e feet w ar; There >re it* o ribbon and brok n rings, And tr*ese- of koI t-n ha There are li t e dre- 1 es olded away, cot of the 1 ght of the .-uany day. Thor arc dainty lack eta that never are w rn, '1 hete re to s>• nd mode 1 of ship ; Tlj re -rebook an pi’t res al Ifai< d and torn, And m rk>-d by the tinger-t ps Os dimpl d han h that have alien *o dust, Yet» str ye to think that he Lord is just. But a feeling of bitterness *U!s my soul So e line ' h I try to prav. That the Reaper has -pa ed so many flowers A d a v n mine away: And 1 almo t doub tha' the Lord can know That a mot .er’a heart can 10. v them so. Then I th n'c of the ones Whoa e waitin. .nd wt c .in? to-niorht Fpr the -I w r turn • f th ft t r ng feet That hnv --trived from t e i a h of light; Who hav darkeu-d the r dves by sname and s n. Whom the snares ■. t the tempter have gathered in. They wander fr»r In d’stant c’‘Tnes, Tu-y > erish by ti •• a i flood. An their hands atf •bac . with 'he direst crimes Tua k nd ed the wr *th or God. Yet a mother a s ng h s s orbed h m t r st She hath lu led them to slumber upon he b east. A d then I think of my children, three, My ba'<es hat n v • grow d. An . ku w that they aie waid g and watching f r me. Tn the ci y v ith streets of g Id Saf . a fe from t ie c-ires of the weary years. From s rro v and sin an I ar. And I hank my God w> h f 11 ng te’rs, For tne udngs in the boc om urawer. ■LR. 11 ! -J.L_ , Santwood. "Yen, I have deci led to rem in away two yea r s. That wi'l be none too long in which to forget this wr. tc ed affair and ace istom myself to some of the stem re ditiei of lie. I find th-t fate has not d creed my pathway to be one of roses. ” The-peaker was reclining carelessly upon a liixuroiis sofa, amid such elegant surro indings that one might naturally wonder what there could be in his exper once to tincture his thoughts of tlie fi’ture with so much gloom. A fine-looking man of middle age, seated ne ir him, was the person wi h whom he wis ostensibly conv rsing, though a girl itti ci at the piano a little farther off felt that the vein of bitterness underlying the words was meant especially for her. Her hands were wander ng half-idly over 'he kevs, plaving in softest, sweetest fashion that rbyth ideal, half-mourn-ful air, “Upon the Danube River.” Deen, rich basi chords d opped now and then nto the low d ippmg, si verv melody, and the pla er hammed, as if to ler own thoughts, in low, sympa thetic tone, th refrain: I"il ne’er for et ‘bat night tn June Up .n the Danube riv.r. She, at least, d d not wonder why the sneaker looked upon the d irk s de of life just then, for she knew. She knew whit all t e world d d, that the proud name of Santwood had bee i dragged in the dust bv a brother’s crime. Forgery and suicide hid ag ia furnished the greedy pr -ss with sensational columns and blazing h. ad- ines, whose every glaring, significant letter cut into tie sensitive heart of Philip like a twpedged sword. But the listener at the piano knew th .t a sharp r pli i han even that die tated the hopele-s words. She remembered a scene in the .i .rarv but a few hours past, when he bad told her of h s restive to leave his native land, nd, in the weakness of the m unent, had broken down and confessed the love which he had meant, now sm-e disgrace hail overtaken him, to keep a se ret to the end. For wh it right had be, he bitterly asked himself, to offer bis stained name for any woman's acceptance ? Bnt, if it is true that “murder will cut," so will love when it is thrilling in every nerve, when every hope an I interest in life is identified with its dear object. “Yet I am not st y that you know it, after all," he had said. “Little fitted as I am now to offer my I ve to ■ ne so pure and proud as yon, it would ave been haid forme to have borne this hopeless love iu si ence. A week ago I could have told you this wiihont one thrill of shimo o- se f-ieproaeh. But then, not dreaming of any coming trouble, I was content to wait until you had seen t e wor d and le. med your own heart thoroughly. What your answer might have been then I do not know, but at le st I should have felt myself the peer of anv other who mmht sue for the honor of your hand; while now * He broke off abruptly, with a heavy, •harp drawn breath, and pic d the floor with the air of some proud, caged animal, chafing against the bars that held him. Suddenly be paused before her as she s’ood, wh te and sile-.t, leming against the mantel for sup ort. and, taking her band in both of his, said, with passionate pleading: “But, a tor all, it is not my sin, Mirgnerite. You are proud, I know: but will you turn from me for my brotbe’s *:ul ? If yo i can love me, ever o little, will yon not tell me so, and let me take that knowledge with me to comioit me in mv long exile? I will wivt—iva't until the trouble has been forgotten; unti I can do something to rediem—" “Do not ask me,” she interrupted, shudde ingly; and then she turned, and, looking straight into his anguished, despairing eyes, in a voice that sounded cold an I harsh in her effort to repress all feeling, she said : “Philip Santwood. yon siioke trnlv jnst now. I am proud — too proud, perhaps: but a stainless M eis everything *o me. I a-n noor myself, but mv name is without blot or blemish, and, while I am sorry for you, I cannot ” But her voice died aw y in silence. To sve her lie she could not have put ti e sent -nee which she was about to •pe ik in’o words, with those s ernlv compress d lips and those dry, yearning eye- before her. “At leist tell me,” he pleadel huskily, “could yon have loved me had it not been for—th »?” “I cannot tell what might have been,” she answered, turning wearilv away. “I only know wh it is. This is a painful subject, Mr. Santwood. Let it end, please.” She meant to be gentle in manner and speech. Bn’ the great struggle it cost her to speak ealmly seemed to I ery-tallize both into he hardness of marble, and wheu she turned away Ph lip re d only pride—nothing but pride and coldness —in her voice and in the pale, set features. He saw nothing of the aching heart I ehind that mask. So, as ti ey sat there with the low, sweet music dropping from the keys; not a word or sigh of Philip Santwood’s escaped her; no the least sight or sound of that unhappy evening but >mpr- ssed itself upon ber memory, and mon hs afterward came back to her mingled always with the sail, sweet measg. aof that ong. The next d.v he was gone. Marguerite was conscious of ate r ble tenet v>e-s, a bitter loss, when th fine, manly figure had disappeared entirely from her view, when the fair, proud head and the handsome face which, until the past week, had been so full of sunny happiness, had gone forever from her home She might h tve brought b ick the brightness to i* with only the one word “hope," yet she could not bring herself to speak it She was proud, far toe proud—this beant ; fni girl—of her rtainhss old family name with which no shade of d sgj-.ee was ever bleat. As the months wars oa Marguerite mlined te the fall the bitterness of a

hopeless love. They heard from Philip —that is, her guardian did, and he was accustomed to repeat the contents of those letters to her, occasionally reading one aloud to her throughout. She never asked to see them herself, though often her heart ched for a sight of the words tuat his hand had traced. After a time the letters began to breathe a spirit of content, then a woman's name crept into them, and then it was not long ere Col Tracy informed his ward that Philip was married. It was a terrible blow to Marguerite, whose love for the bright, handsome fellow was only less strong than her ind mitab e pride. She could have recalled him, but she would not, though her heart longed continually for his p e ence. Now it seemed that he had found some one—a truer woman than herself, it must be who leved him and scorned to sacr fice •er happiness and his f or his brother's crime. But it was too late now to think of wha. might have lieen, so she kept on in her round of social gayeties, trying t« hide her remorse and regret under a prouder bearing, a more brilliantlysmiling face th n of old. And now she learned something which she had never before suspected. Col. Tracy loved her, and laid heart and fortune at her feet with all the passionate ardor of a young man. Marguerite was utterly surprised. She had no love for him, and so she refused him as gently as she could. But the love of the middle-aged man of the world was not to be dismissed as easilv as the youth whose pride forbade him to ask twice. She did not love him, but she entertained a respectful affection for him, added to which was the knowledge so flattering to her pride that, out of the whole world full of fair women, he. the handsoike, cultured man of society, should have chosen her. At length she said to him, with simple frankness: “Dear guardy, if you are willing to take me. knowing how I have loved Philip Santwood; knowing that, if it were not a sin now, I would always love him, yon may do so, and I will endeavor to the utmost to be a true and affectionate wif . ” So Marguerite Compton found herself Mrs. Col. Tracy, a petted leader of fashion, the po-sessor of a haughty name, and the idol of a fond husband’s heart. Yet now, when it was too late, she knew that could she but share ; Philip Santwood’s young, clouded life, . and wear that stained, rejected name of his she would be a far happier woman. It was in the second ye 'r of her marj r age that she and her husband made the tour of Europe. They had visited many of the principal cities; Mrs. Tracy had been presented at court, and was as mu-.-h admired as her proud and devoted husband could possibly desire; and now they were sail ng down the Danube. They had passed many picturesque village and auc ent rums on the shores of hat grand and storied river, and were nearing Linz, celeb ated for the loveliness of its situation and the beautv of its women, when Marguerite sat on the deck of the steamer, apart from all others, thinking sadly of that evening in her life when she had decided her fate against her own happiness. How vividly the words of the song came back to her, as she leaned over the railing and looked down at the greenblue waters below: I’ll ne’er fonret ’bat <iav in June Upon the Danube river. How strange that this should be a moonlit n ght in June, and that she herself should be “upon the Danube river 1”

While her whole mind and heart were back upon that never-to-be-forgotten evening, a dark shadow came tietween her and the moonlight. She glanced up involuntarily, and her heart almost , ceased its throb ing. There before her stood the hero of her thought#—Philip Santwo, d—looking down upon her. j One thing she had time to notice as he came toward her—his proud, fair face looking almost stern in the moonlight —the old-fashioned love was in his eyes. One instant her heart thrilled wildly as she saw it; then, as he came nearer, there was a terrible no se, an awful shock ; then fl imes were issuing from the steamer, and men, women and children were struggling for their lives in th waters of the Danube. When Mrs. Tracy opened her eyes aft. r the first stun ing jar of the explosion, she found herself clasped in the arms of Philip Santwood, who was making heroic efforts to save her. “Oh, Phi ip,” she cried, with her first breath, “where is my husband? and yonr wife, too? We must not forget them ’.” “My wife!” She saw the astonishment in bis eyes even in that dreadful moment. “I never had a wife, Marguerite. Did he tell you so ?” “Yes ” she answered. And then, as the treachery of her husband’- scheme to win her love from Philip flashed like lisrhtuing into her mind, she regrette I with all the loyalty of a true, if not a loving wife, that she had betrayed it to his rival. “Save him—oh save him first, Philip!” she i'leaded, anxiously. “You are a woman, Marguerite—the woman I love,” he replied, a half-savage joy thrill ng in his tones. “It is my duty and my pie sure to aid you. He is a m in, and my enemy. I am under no obligation to him. Let him take care of him-elf!” For one instant Marguerite Ipy with closed eyes in Philip's arms, thinking almost that she was in heaven. He had never married another; he loved her madly yet, and s e—ah, Heaven 1 how she had loved him! This was a night of danger. If anything should happen that would set her free— She check d herself then. What a wicked —what a horrible thought 1 Just then her husband floated past them, c.inging wi h a white, despairing face to a portion of he wreck. He seemed exhamted and aliout to sink. “Oh, save him!” she cried again in agony at her own wickedness. P dip’s face appalled her. Upon it was pictured the sears 1 struggle going on in bis soul—love, jealousy, hatred, indecision. “I cannot save you both,” he said, hoarsely. “Then him first,” said Marguerite, with desperate passion in her voice. “O:>, Philip, if I am lost it will not be through any sin of yours, but, if you Ie ve him purposely to die unaided, it w 11 be—murder.” Philip’s face seemed to grow even whiter as she breathed that last word with terrible distinctness. “1 see,” he said, quietly. “I will do wh t I can.” Perhaps he might now atone for his bro iler’s er me, was the new thought which stirred his soul to its depths. Maignerite, clinging to the tiny raft where Philip had left her (it was scarcely larire enough te hold two persons), saw her husband sna’ched almost from the jaws of death by the man whom they had both so mercilessly wronged, with a feeling of intense thankfulness to II aven toe deep for words. She felt a o-ro n si ifie mere thonsrht of how she and Philip might have profited by her husband's death. It was fortunate that the acc : dent occurred so near the town, for just there the river ran swiftly, and few could have been saved without the aid that speedily Cime frog# Liw “I have savW hjs for ypur sake, Marguerite," whispered Philip as they

i met each other at the side of her rescued i but almost lifeless husband. “God bless you I” she answered, pressing his hand, as she knelt beside the i prostrate form of the Colonel. But Col. Tracy's days were nnmi bered. All was done for him that medical skill could do in that qnaint old German city. But he was no longer voung, and his nervous svstem had received a shock from which he could not recover. He died, and there, on. the shore of the “beautiful blue Danube,” ■ he was buried. • • « « » » * , Two years passed quietly away. Mrs. , Tracy had spent them in travel, and had but ately returned to her native land. She and Philip Santwood had parted at Linz, without a word ora pledge for the future, and they had never met since. Yet she was not surprised when h i suddenly appeared in her draw ing room one evening and spoke once more of his loyal love for her. “I have never loved any other. Marguerite,” he said. “If I may dare to again offer you the name that ” “Hush!” >he answered, lifting her i white jeweled hand, with a smile that ! Softened a'. 1 the dark beauty of her face. “Your noble conduct at Linz has redeemed your name from all dishonor in my eyes. And, even were it otheri wise, how dare I, in my sinful pride, condemn you for another’s sin?" SUGGESTIONS OF VALUE. To .clean ceilings that have been smoked by a kerosene lamp wash them with soda water. To render thick paper quite transluj cent, saturate while warm with Canada . balsam or castor oil. Kid boots may be nicely cleaned with a mixture of oil and ink: the oil softens the leather, and the ink blackens it. A little glue dissolved in skim milk and water will restore the stiffness and luster to crape, and make it look like new. To keep water lilies fresh for a length I of time, place them in a wide bowl or 1 dish half filled with water. Cut away the stem, leaving only about two inches; put a few lily pads on the surface of the water and let the lilies float on them. They should be kept where there is plenty of light, as darkness closes the petals. Water lilies may lie kept for three or four day in perfect beauty by putting them in a large, flat dish filled with wa- | ter to the depth of four inches. Place the lilies in the water so that the leaves and flowers shall float on the | surface. If you place them in the sun- ! light the flowers will open and remain ! so all dav.

Staining woodwork is improved by washing it with tea leaves that have been kept for a few days. Drain them and pour on enough clean water to cover them and place on the stove, and let them boil gently for about twenty minutes. When nearly cold dip a flannel cloth in the water and wipe the paint, drying with another flannel. To keep knives and forks in good condition, wipe them as soon as possible after they are used. Have a jug of hot water to put them into as soon as washed, and wipe them dry with a soft flannel. When not in use dust them occasionally with finely powdered quick-lime, wipe off in an hour or two, and wrap them in a flannel cloth. Test for alum in baking powders— Digest an ounce sample of the powder for several hours with a small quantity of lukewarm water slightly acidified with pure hydrochloric acid, then filter (through pure filter paper), boil the filtrate for a few minutes, let it cool somewhat, then add pure acqtia ammonia to strong alkaline reaction. If alum were present in the powder the ammonia thus added will cause a w hite flocculent or gelatinous precipitate of hydrated oxide of alumina. To preserve eggs with salicylic acid the following method is recommended : Dissolve a teaspoonful of the acid in a gallox of boiling water. Os course, if a greater quantity of water is required the acid must be increased in proportion. When the solution is cold it is poured over the eggs, which are packed in a clean keg or barrel. A few small boards placed on the top of the eggs will prevent them from rising. The top of the vessel must be covered with a cloth to keep out dust. Eggs so treated have been found to keep for months. They must be nsed, however, immediately after being taken out of the solution About Small Farms. According to the census there were 4,008,907 farms in the United States in 1880. No doubt this number has increased perhaps 200,000 since then, as emigration has been large, and there has been a fever for “going West,” but the fact to lie especially noted is, that only 139,241 were farms of less than ten acres. Farmers’ clubs and farmers' journals have lieen scolding agriculturists for not working small farms, bnt people generally know their own interests best. Land is constantly growing in value in this country, and at the end of a long life the farmer with the most land is the best off. He may have made no more than a bare living with his broad acres; but the land, which, when he bought was worth only an acre, has a market value of SSO to SIOO an acre. Then again, while land is cheap it does not pay to spend money in costly manures or to farm high; it is more profitable to buy virgin land and exhaust it by repeated cropping. Yet over and over again the critics of the farmers tell them that they ought to neglect wheat aad corn, and grow cucumbers and berries on ten-acre lots; but the actual experience of the farmer is that it is the large farm which pays best in the long run. When land gets very dear, then ■will come the time to employ costly manures and lalx>r in the cultivation of the •oil. — Demorest’s Monthly. About Bear Stories. Every now and then the newspapers contain s.ories of thrilling adventures with liears. Either the hunter is treed or escapes with his life after a terrifie combat by some lucky accident. It has now been settled, however, that there is no more danger from a bear than from <* squirrel or a woodchuck. They will not fight unless they cannot heip themselves. It is only in defending its culis that the bear becomes really savage. It ie the maternal instinct, and not any natural pugnacity, which makes the bea- dangerous. In fact, Mild animals ir this country instinctively avoid a man. This is true even of the famous grizzly and the polar bear. All authentic stories of contests with bears show that it is danger tothe cub which induced the animal to show fight.— Demorest's Montlilu. The Brnin-f’oeil of Vale Boys. One New Haven firm sells 120,000 cigarettes a month to Yale College students, or. for the ten months i f the year that the “men are in town, 1,200,bo<\ at an average of a little more thai half a cent aoiece— a total of about *B,OOO a year. The same firm rec-eivee $15,000 a year for soda aud miners! waters sold to the students, and the monthly cigar account with the colie gians reaches SSOO. And this is the record of but one firm.— Hartfort Courant. R. L, with s population of 30,000, is the largest <own uader town fOTsroment in ths United fi itis

GOSSIP FOR THE LADIES. Cooking and Courting. Dear Ned!—' o doubtyon’ll be surprised When you receive »nd read this letter; I have railed ag»;n«t the mauled state— But then, veu see, 1 knew no better. I’ve met a lovely girl out here; r c manner is — winning; We’re soon to be—well. Ned. my dear! I’ll teil you all from the beg.nning I went to ask her out to ride La.*t Wednesday—lt was perfect weather; She said she c uldn’t possibly— The servant* had gone < ff together; (Domestics always rush away, At cousins’ funerals to be looking); Pies must be made, and she must stay, She said, to do that branch of cooking. *Oh. let me help you, th n," I cr ed; ‘ I’ll be a cooker, too—how jolly! She laughed, an < answered with a “mile, “All right, but you’ll rei>cnt your fully, For I shall bea tyrant, sir, An I good hird w rk y n 11 have to grapple, So *it down there, and don’t you sti-. But take that knift-and that apple, Sh* m’led her sleeves shore her arm— That lovely arm «o plump and rounded. Out-Mi ip. t ie morning sr.»*hone bright. Inside, the dough *he deftly pound d; Her little fine rs sprinkled flour And rolled the pie-nru’t up in masses; I passed a most delightful hour Mid butter, sugar aud molasses. W’ith deep reflection, her sweet eves Gazed on each pot and pan and kettle; She s iced the apple, tilled her p e% Then the upp-r ern-t dd* ttle. Her r ppi<ng waves of t olden hair In one great coil eere tigh ly twisted; B t lock* would loosen here and then', And curl about where’er tuey listed. And then her sleeve came down, and I Fastened it up—her hands were doughy; Oh! it did take the longest time— Her arm, Ned, was so fair and snowy! S, e »lu*h d, and trembled, and looked shy; Somehow, that made me a'l the bolder; Her a’ ch lips looked so red that I— Well-found her head upon my shoulder. We’re to be married, Ned, next month; Come and attend the wedding revels; I really think that bachelors A e the moat mi>erab’.e devils! You’d better go for some girl’s nand, And if you are uncertai i whet..er Yon dare to make a due demand, Why, just try cooking pies together. Her Opinion of Jones. She was asked what she thought oi one of her neighbors of the name oi Jones, and with a knowing look replied “Why, I don’t like to say anything about my neighbors, but, as to Mr. Jones, sometimes I think, and ther again I don’t know, but, after all, ] rather guess he’ll turn out to be a deal such a sort of a man as I take hire to be.**— San Francisco Netcs-Letter. Woman’s Work. Sarah L. Bolton, writing on “Worn an’s Work.” says in the Independent An Irish barrister with whom we trav eled recently said: “What a blessing that work for women is reputable ir America, and I hear that it is. I havt six daughters, and the struggle is great to kgep them until they are married.' I could have replied that alas! I knew families in America who would be quit, willing that a daughter should marry s clerk in a dry g ,ods store who would be indignant if their son, for whom they had high hopes, was te marry t girl who was a clerk in that same store. It would be pathetic, were it not pitiful, to see scores of young men work ing for sisters who are able to care foi themselves, and would do so gladly did public orinion favor it; or a fathei slaving for his daughters who might we 1 save the gray from creeping sc fast into his hair. Every woman, as well as man, is better developed in body and mind by labor. She has more sympathy with the workers. Sh« learns to oliey superiors, and thus to control those beneath her. She knows the worth of money after she has earned it for herself, and, if she marries, will be more saving of what another earns for her. She studies'human nature and sees its nobility amid its selfishness. She learns to control cireumsiances, and not let circumstances control her; and, when this has been attained, she has found ont t ie secret of a h ippy life. Beside, and perhaps almost above all other persons, if she learns to snppcrt herself, she will not marry a man she does not love simply for a home.

Woman : God Hle»« Her—Address by Mark Twain at a New York Banquet. — The next toast on the list was “Woman: God Bless Her,” and this I was responded to by Mark Twain in an address which kept the tables in a roar for a quarter of an hoar. The speaker brought his words out in an indescribable drawl, and puffed a cloud of smoks from his cig > r between every two sentences. He said: “The toast includes the sex, universally—it is to woman, comprehensively, wheresoever she may be found. Let us consider her ways. First, comes th? mittor of dress." This is a most important consideration in a subject of this nature, and must be disposed of before we can intelligently proceed to examine the profounder depths of the theme. For the text let us take the Iress of two antipodal types—the savage women of Central Africa and the cultivated daughter of our high modern c viiization. Among the Fans, a great negro tr.be, a woman when dressed for home, or to go to market, or to go out calling, does not wear anything at all but her complexion. That is all: that is her entire outfit. It is the lightest costume in the world, but is made of the darkest material. It has often lieen mistaken for mourning. It is the trimmest and neatest and gracefulest costume that is now in fashion. It wears well, is fast color, doesn't show dirt; yon don't hare to send it down town to wash, and have some of it come back scorched with the flatiron, and some of Jt with the bnt'ons ironed off, and some of it petrified with starch, and some of ft chewed by the caff, and some of it rotted with acids, and some of it exchanged for other customers things, that haven’t any virtue , bnt holiness, and ten-twelfths of the pieces overcharged for, and the rest of the dozen ‘ mislaid.’ And it always fits; it is the perfection of a fit. And i is the handiest dress in the whole realm of fashion. It is always ready, alwars ‘done up.’ When you call on a Fan lady and send up your card, the hired girl never says: ‘Flea<e take a seat. Madame is dressing; she will be do an in three quarters of an hour.’ No, Madame is always dressed, always readv to receive; and before you can get the door-mat before your eyes she is in your midst. Then again the Fan ladies don’t go to church to see what each other has got on; a d they don’t go back home and describe it and slander it. Such is the dark child of savagery to evervday toilet, an.l thus curiously enough she finds a point of contact with the fair daughter of civilization and high fashion—who often has ‘nothing to wear,’ and thus these widely separated types of the sex meet upon common I ground. Yes, such is the Fan woman, as she appears in her simple, unostentatious toilet. But on state occasions she is more dressy. At a banquet she wears brace' ets; at a lecture she wears earrings and a belt: at a ball she wears stockings, and, with true feminine fondness for display, she wears them on her arms; at a funeral she wears a jacket of tar and ashes; at a wedding the bride who can ass >rd it puts on pantaloons. Thus the dark child of savagery and the fair daughter of civilization‘meet once more upon common ground, and these two touches of nature make their whole nature k n. “Now we will consider the drees of our other type. A large part of the d nghter of civilization is her dress as it should be. Some civilized women would loee half their charm without dress, and some would Idee »11 cd it. The daughter of modern civil zation, dressed st her utmost best, is a morsel

of exquisite ami beautiful art ami expense. All the lands, all the climes and all the arts are laid under tribute, to furnish her forth. Her linen is from Belfast; her robe is from P ris; her lace is from Venice or Spain or France; her feathers are from the remote roKions of Southern Africa; her furs from the remote home of the iceberg and the ; aurora ; her fan from Japan ; hor I diamonds from Brazil; her bracelets from California; her pearls from Ceylon : her Cameos ftom Rome: she has ; gems and trinkets from buried Pompeii, and others that graced comely Egyptian forms that have been dust and ashes now for f rty centuries; her w atch is from Geneva; her card-case is from China; her hair is from —from—I don’t know where her hair is from ; I never could find oht. That is, her Other hair, her public hair, her Snndiy hair; I don't mean the hair she goes to bed with. Why, you ought to know the hair I mean; it’s that thing which she calls a switch, and which resembles a switch 'S much as it does a brickbat or shot-gun or any other thing which you correct people with. It’s that thing which she twists and then coils round and round her head, bee-bite fashion, and then tucks the end in under the hive and harpoons it with a hair-pin. And that reminds me of a trifle. Any time you want to, you can glance around the carpet of a Pullman car and go and pick up a hair-pin, but not to save your life can you get any woman in that car to acknowledge that hair-pin. Now, isn't that strange? But it's tine. The woman who has never swerved from cast-i on veracity and fidelity in her who e life will, when confronted w th th s cruiia test, deny her hair-pin. She wdi deny that hairpin before ahundred witne-ses. I have stupidly got into more trouble and more hot water trying to hunt up the owner of a hair pin in a Pullman car than by any other indie* cr< tion of my life. “ Well, you see what the daughter of civilization is when she is dressed, and von have seen what the daughter of sava ery is when she isn’t. Such is w. man as to costume. I come now to consider her in her higher and nobler aspects—as mother, wife, widow, grass* widow, mother-in-law, hired gill, telegraph operator, telephone hellower, Queen, book ag nt, wet-nurse, stepmother, l»oss, professional fat woman, professional double-headed woman, professional beauty and so forth and so on. We will simply discuss these few —, it the rest of the sex tarry in Jericho until we come again. First in the list, of right, and first in our gratitude, comes a woman—why. dear me. I’ve been talkin’ three-quarters of an hour! I beg a thousand pardons. But you see yourselves I had a large contract. I Lave accomplished something, anyway. I have introduced my subject, and if I had until next Forefather's day I am sure that I could discuss it as adequately and appreciatively as a so-gra-cious and noble theme deserves. But as the matter stands now, let us finish as we begun, and say, without jesting, bnt with all sincerity, ‘Woman—God ' bless her!’ ” California Wines. Ten million gallons is the averageannual production of wine in California and of this about 2.000.000 gallons are shipped East, given a foreign label and readily sold as imported goods. Even connoisseurs hav often been deI ceived into pronouncing a fine brand of California excellent French wine. California champagne is sold in Boston, i properly labeled, at $1 per quart bot- : tie, which only pretty good experts would know by the taste to be not the I imported article. The time is coming when California producers will not be obliged to give their wines a false label in order to secure as good a market as any of the imported wines find here. Wonderful Juggling. A Hindoo lecturing in Brooklyn said of the fam.us Ind an jugglers: Tl ey can swallow a chain and make it clink in their stomach, and also can swallow a sword. The magic trick is one of their best feats. They procure a small piece of wood, and, having plant ed it in the ground, they ask the bystander what fruit he would prefer. The juggler, wrapped in a sheets will crouch to the earth, and throw.h a rent in the garment one can se<- him cut himself with a razor nailer his arms and rub a piece of w •<> 1 in his blood. The tree then co- s forth, first as a sprout, then full ■< T ■. es, and finally bearing fruit." There are quite as great objections to living in the nortlie n districts of China as in some of die Western States. The hurricanes, floods and other calamities that < fflict the Celestial empire are as fearful as any in this country. Bad men excuse their faults; good men will leave them. rOLtDO. CINCINRATIJ ST. LOUIS R. R. Time Table—ln Effect Sept. 4, 1882. Going West. Western | Going Eau**.."' 11 I 7 I 5 I Division. i~6 j 8 j 12 A. M. P M A M. Lv. Ar. P. M. P. M P M. 1 39 6 3<> ...Enterprise...! 7 39 12 36; '2 13 7 ... Willshire.... 70512 0! ./’' 545 5 04'10 10 ... .Marion i 4 10 907 666 7 30; 6 33 Kokomo . 7 45 4 25 • ■*• i Ar. Lv. Go; ng South.; Dav ton , Going North. J 9ii! Division. I 2 ; 10 | A. M. p M. Lv. Ar. P. M. P. M • f 3 !< Celina. . in 40 R 41 i 6,54 4 - ' .... Osgnod 9 43 7 4* ! 713 4 ’5'... Versailles ... 91* 723 .../ I 7 50 5 30 ....Covington... 8 45 6 51.../ I 8 25 ft It) .West Milton. J 8 10 6 15 I * 41 6:<1.. . V nion j 7 55 6 no . ' M 45 ft 35 .Harrisburg... l 7 .¥•> 556 ... / i 9 10 6 s<* Stillwater June. 7 26 5 33 ..... I 9 25. 1 15, Dayton 7 07 5 15 V tl j M _ | . i Frankfort and I Going East. ~ 19 ' II 1 7 S'ate Line Div. R 12 i 14 A M. a. m. p m Lv. Ar. a M. P. M. P mJ I .... 7 45 6 33 : .... Kokomo .... 745 3 25 •< 7 01!...Russiaville.. 1 T 19 2 34 6 30 r» I” 7 50 ar„ Frankfort lv 6 30 1 00 4 -J ■ T A PaIILLIPS. T. H. B. BEALE. Gen. Manager. Gen. Pass. Agent, W 8. MATTHIAS. Ass’K Gen. Pass. Agent.

| C. E. ALBERS & SON has open out in JOHN KING’S CARRIAGE SHOP \ full and complete line of Family Groceries, Bijj Stock Fn-sh Goods,at TOM PRICES - pverytliing in the grocery line to select from. Ail Goods to any part of the City vered Free

We are fond of boasting that in no ■ other country in the world do men hold their convictions with so much energy ns in England. True, but one may also put the proposition in another shape and say: "In no other country m the world is so much nonsense so firmly believed/—EdunrMniold. . _ _ SSIT M’l J "l aStltl iwrrWß TOW VW PRINCIPAL+LW SHORT ESI, iCKEST and And an x line to St. Joseph, points in Topeka. Deni 1 Nebraska. Missouri Gal- | sas. New Mexico, Arizona, tana and Texas. C IT I O A O- O has tio superior fur Albert Lra, tHnat apvils and St. I’aul. Nationally reputed a* ly conceded to being the Great be the best equipped rough Car Railroad in the World for ,ne all classes of t ravel. _ _ ;KANSAS CITY All connections made X/ZfN. Inl. n Thtongh ” rylt ' 1 TkkeuviathiJSTr ,nd T "" I telrtrate.l Line iuK/'/Cy's/ And traveling a ’ aUe al ail office, luxury, Inaiead , lhe VB. and>< « d ‘ , Canada a ' A XSWZabo n Kat. s el \ Fare. Sleeping tars. < ' ' y r J POTTER. PERCEVAL LOWELL, ' i 4 ria J'ru'lJ: Gen'l Maruiger, Oen ryts.Agl.. • Chicago, 111 Chicago. 11L ' GRAND RAPIDS & INDIANA RAILWAY. In Effect October 15, 1882. r ; J COLI MIH 8 TIME. , ~soiN\i Noßfif. • Station— i No. 1. No. 3. &o. k No. 7. ’ Cm. 11. .kl» 'i’ani 7 Cpm ) i Richmond lv 3 upid 11 10 10 2f I j Winchester ' 4 in 12 1 fpm 11 ! 1 | Ridgeville i 4 :« 12 .11 49 I Portland 5 0 106 112 If am 1 Decatur 6 IS . 2 10 1 25 « Fort Wayne ar 710 !3 12 220 . Fort Wavne lv 335 I 3 10 S 3fewn K. ndall die 4 4ft 4 20 9 42 1 Stur.is 6OR :5 42 H « ’ Vicksburg ;7 15 I 6 41 1216 pm r I Kalamazoo ar ‘7 50 I7 20 12 50 , I Kalcmasoo h I 8 <• ;7 40 225 • Grand Rapids ar! 10 M) i 9 50 I 4 25 1 Grand Rapids ....Jv 743 am L2O I 5 15 » D. AM. Crossing ... I7 55 'to 37 585 . Howard (Ity '9 17 12 05pm 6!W 1 . Big Rapids 10 14 1 01 7 52 , i Rvc.tCity 10 50 2 («) 850 1; Cadillac ar i2Uspm 315 10 10 'Cadillac lv 330 ill 00 , Traver*- City ar 555 j Kalkaska i • 5 27 1 Ham I Mancelona 1 6 M 1 1 W j Boyne Falls j j 711 '.3 23 Harbor Springs ; J 8 25 & j Mackfaaw,/T I I I. t . I TOO ■ GOLNcrSbirrn. ? ; Stations— No. 2. No. 4. N ; o. 6.': No. 8. 11 Siar?iwr.....'.//.lv ■' 1 1 v Win J Harlior Springs 6 g>am 7 Oo 1 Petoskey i... j7 20 1 OOani 1 Hw Falls ’ 7.59 I IM I Maucviona 0 07 3 10 f . Ka.Li.-ka 944 I 8 50 ' Traverse City I 8 25 i -1 Cad'.lhir ar I 11l 42 545 j Cadillac lv 4 00pm 12 02pm ft 10 ♦ I R»od City I 513 I1 16 |7 45 . I Big Rapids 1 550 ’1 50 1 8 19 ' Huwaid City 1 647 i 2 46 ,9 17 s ’ D. & M. Crossing 8 05 4 14 to 87 _ Grand lUpids ar ,8 20 485 10 55 Grand Rapids lv 7 COam I 6 00 j I tlOpm r Allegan 1 500 i1 10 Ka!amaz.?o *r 90n I j7 00 252 J i Kalamazoo lv; 9 05 1 715 2 57 x I Vh kshurg 9 35 17 47 S » • . Stunris .. 10 82 R 4R 1 4 40 o Kendallville 11 46 10 05 i 6 03 Fort Wayne ar 1 OOi»«J H3O J7 15 1 Fort Wayne lv 120 a 15am 12 30am; Decatur 12 10 704 1 1 25 ; Portland I 3 >0 !8 08 231 Ridgeville 337 884 .3 01 . I Winchester 18 56 8 M 323 1 L Kidmn'uid 500 j 9 55 4:« 1 Cincinnati I7 40 it 10pni* 735 ! t No. 5 leaves Cincinnati and No. 8 leaves Mackinaw City daily, except Satard&y. All other ' trains d ily except Sunday. f Woodruff sleeping cars on Nos. 5 and 6 between Cincinnati and Grand Rapids, and sleeping aud chair cars on same trains between • Grand Rapids and Petoskey; also Woodruff . sleeping cars on Nos. 7 and 8 between Grand Rapids and Mackinaw City. A. B. LEET, Gen’L Pass. Agent. *• IA I I ’d’ntFS on the lookout fb t lA/ I L * I V‘»an--.-s to increis.-th.-ir ear;.iun 4 till I ►•ana in time t- ■ tn • wealthy: th<>* " ■VII) I ■' ■ <!l ’ ” ' •■pr-’V* their pi’ rtu 8 • • ■ *■■■*) it it* remain in poverty. We offer i great chance to make m>oey. We want many men • women, l«oys and girls to work for u« right in tbei I own localities. Any one can 'io the w rk fn«m th times the ordinary vages. Expensive outfit furnish* tn-e. Noone who engages U<h to make money ran idly. You can devote your whole time to the work cr only your upare moments. Full in forma Hon an g all th .t is needed sent free. Address BTtssox A Co. £ Portland, Maine.—— -6 42 lyr. f—\ r" Z"\ '■■■• C lhel* sweeping bv. goanddar IJ I I • I you e -omething might) - r*k I and sublime behind t u , 111 111 quer time.” >6B a week in you ■ • fe—V-Z 1 .wn town f-5 outfit frv N ri-k - Everything new. Capital not required. We will fur niah you everything. Many are making fortunes , Ladies make as much as men, and l»oy* and girl make great pay. Reeder, if you want business a | which you can make great pay all the time, writ for particulars to H. Hallett A Q).. Portland, Maine IP AR KER’S" 71^1*»,' BALSAIII. ' " '4~ST . A r-'ltit dress > ■■ ■ reswre, lia. ‘ * ‘rand 7 preven'>bJdncss L'.TruTCi: ; I ' -12? 1 - « t - u - PAHEkER’S TONIC ; fj An Invigora! ng Vlrdicme F vrr Intoxicates t Hi,; F tht bowels sso*iKH.h,l.v«.r,l idi.cy-s ond’ithcs&fe [ H Tha Beet and f urczt Ccstob C-T3 C*-' r V::d. t I : ° ioo DOLLAr.7. ' | Taid f'T n: ■. i> b-.rioi.- lc; 1 ; I 11( :r ~cr 1 onrc g

NIBLICK, CRAWFORD & SONS. again made a change of . base by adopting the CASH SYSTEM. i From and after this date ‘Will i sqII for Cash Onlyr. We have the BIGGEST stock and FINEST selection in the cityWe have a fine Line of all kinds of I LACE COLLARS. FICHUES AND TIES. SILK HANOKERCHIFS from $1 to 42.50 a piece, LADIES’ FVRS, - In Setts and also Muffs and capes that we enn sell separat 1 FINE LINE OF SHAWLS [ ’ In all grades from a cheap Cotton to a Broche. : GENTS’ NECK WEAR. We have something new in that line called a Lawn I'enr n \ or Bicycle Tie. Gents’ Suspenders in bilk, something ’ beautiful for a Christmas Gift. “ i/7( mnlet/ we are offering a fine line of Table Cloth’s and ‘ X .pkins to match, put up nicely in a box of one sett each. k Towels in great variety, from 5c to $1 each. We have a elegant line of (7 I ,ASS-WAR 11~ 1 In plain and engraved. Majolica-ware in Plates Tea setts. ‘ Fruit Baskets. Pitchers, Tea and Coffee Cups and Saucers, Biead Plates, Pickles. BGLISH AIW FRENCH CHINA We have mustache Cups and Saucers from 40* cents to $1 :: each Full line of Dinner and Tea setts, in p«ain and de--31 ! corated. Wash-stand setts from 2to 12 pieces each. ” j In our carpet department, You can find something nice in the way of Buggs, Mafia and Crum Cloths, in prices to suit all. WOOL BLANKETS- we defy competition, ranging in price from $1.50 to sl4 per pair. We are offering great bargains in LADIES CO A I'B, I I, STEPS and DOLMANS to close for the season—now u “ your chance to make a Bargain. Please call and see before you make your purchases as we know that we can do you some good. Niblick, Crawford. & Sons. ooh Out and Don’t Forget THAT JOHN Welfley. m I id selling Groceries at less money than any other house and is bound not to be UNDERSOLD. )- I n SUGAR and COFFEE Lower than for twenty years. COFFEES, SUGARS, TEAS. SPICES. br 5 CANDIES, SALT MEATS, FISH, SARDINES. r“7 TOBBACCOES, QUEENSWARE, CIGARS. sir 7 Sugars all grades. Green and Roasted Coffees of the best quality. Teaas —Good—C^eap—Black and Green—are one of our specialties, ml Sugar Cured Hams, Shoulders, Bacon and Dried Beef. '™ Tobaccoes and Cigars in choice brands and great variety u y " New Assortment of Lamps. Bronze, Gold and Ebony. Tubs, Buckets, Brooms and wooden ware Generally. ■ j Cut Glassware. China dinner and tea sets, a full assortment of Queenswarc, White Fish, Cat Fish, Mackerel, Cod Fish, Holland Herring, aud Sardines. COUNTRY PRODUCE TAKEN IN EXCHANGE FOR GOODS. Come Everybody. You will find first class groceries fresh and cheap. JOHN WELFLEY. Opposite Court House. t August 10,’82. No. 19 ts parkkes 1 Parker’s 1 balsamEß^H® i n £ er Tonic f ABotectm. An Isvigoratinff Medidna that Haver S lEtCjjeaWE. t- , »ng, elegantly MKitTMy&sa 1 perfumed and This delicious combination of Ginger. [ ertirely harm- M-fx-iKc. fuiingia. and many other of the t** U less Removes K ve s kr. -tn. c res Fem-'e < b dandruff, re- Kk '''*-3 I 1 ' ' Nenm:»-e«s M ale'ume* 1 - | store* natural oisoxaers of the bowels, stomach, . vs. color and pre-ceys, and unnary organs vent* baldness V Dy u have y appetite anc -re i?w so ctota aa44> ■ cr stnienvg from ace. or ar.v ir.finmtv. 5 * 3r , K " Urw nwmre-. u GingerT ■• ;c it wiU •'r.—.':en bram and ikx 3 * ,ad p-7-‘trrr, . nni nnfjp&Sjfi' 100 dollars VyLUUIt LI ? I-''** V. ' J I:T a-vthir - , ..n- * > ,un i 1 » »4..—.«.■■* • Try-t---p;;X 7 g, ’17 if?: JX£t. T! “ w-i*!* ,r S n 1 lor iucuUt to H m: ■« 4 i — 4 >«u. 4 I.N Y. k lwMawMloaßEeEaa>«uw<raiMwr> igeaatßtu-afc- jiuuwaiiw^* B _ -4,000 _ TOXT S \ or ■ ■ Tlas Straw Wanteel —tor w hich— I WILL PAY THE BEST PRICES hen delivered dry ani in od condition at the Deea !ur FLAX MILE