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Georgia has produced some of the stoutest fighters that ever went to the field. The State was settled by Scotch and Irish colonies, that soon produced an amalgumtough, stubborn and dogmatic, and quickened with a sharp infusion of New England blood. There haa been, since the colonial days down, a fibrosis, determined assertiveness about Georgia that always meant a great deal more than the brittle passsion of Carolina or the quick choler of Florida. Like the young Uercules, she founght her way from the cradle. Her first civilization was a millet seed dropped in a wilderness. An infant colony or two, setting white faces and Christian souls against an illimitable forest that teemed with savageshemmed in by four powerful nations, when the other States were in comparative peacefighting from between the plow shares, up and down every furrow, and compressing the staple for an epic into the life of every day. Every man was a hero then. The alternative was sim pleit was heroism or emigration. In those rude and gallant days no man could succeed who was not absolutely fearless. To refuse to tight was to court disgrace. I doubt if there ever was enkindled on this side of the Atlantic a spirit so near akin to the haughty stubbornness that moved the English bosoms, as that which lived in the breasts of the earlier Geor gians. There is one figure that stands out re freshingly cool and unique during these troublous times. This was John M. Doo ly, the man who announced that he would not fight under any circumstances. He was probably the most biillidnt man pro duced in that era, prolific of giants. He was the peer of Crawford on any field, and his superior in the legal forum. His abilities were transcendent, and his fail ure to make a national leputation arose, doubtless, from no other cause tlian his refusal to fight on any and all occasions A non-combatant could not hold his head up in those tuibulent times. Dooly had the most delicious humor, and a sharp tongue, withal. He was continually get ting into trouble because of his sathacal sayings. He was peifcctfy fearless ol speech. Judge Giesliam once threatened to chastize him. Doofy icplied "You can do it if you like. You will get no ciedit foi it, howevei. Arvbod\ ran do it, and a gieat many have done it." He wa once knocked down by a gen tleman tli.it he had introduced as the in ferior Judge of an infeiior couit of the infeiioi county of Lincoln He called lustily on the spectators for help, and, when rescued iiom his antagonist, rubbed his head and remarked, dryly "Well that is the forty-second fight I have been en gaged in, and if I ever got the best of a single one 1 do not now icmembei it." Beibie Dooly's peace pioclivities were ful ly known he was challenged to nvoital combat by a Mr. Tate, who came to the field with Mi. W. H. Ciawfoid as his sec ond. Dooly accepted the challenge. Tate had lost one leg and woie a wooden one When he and his fiiecrl reached the field they found Dooly alone, sitting on a stump. "Where is your friend?'' asked Craw ford, in some sui prise. "He is in the woods, sir." "And will be present in a moment, sir, I suppose?" said Crawfoid. "Yes, as soon as he can find a bee-gum." "May I inquire what he wants with a bee-gum^" "Why, I want to put my leg it it. Do you suppose I can afford to risk my leg of flesh against Tate's leg of wood? If I hit his leg, he will get an other to-morrow and peg away as usual. If he hits mine, he may kill me, or com pel me to stump it like him for the bal ance of my life. No, sir I must have a gum. Then I will be just as much wood as he is, and he will be on equal terms "I understand you, Col. Dooly you do not intend to fight." "Why, really. Col. Crawford, I thought everybody knew that." "Very well, sir but remember, Colonel, your name in no enviable light will fill the columns of a newspaper to-morrow." "I assure you, my dear sir, I had rather fill every column in every newspaper in Georgia than one coffin."* This precedent served for a duel in Georgia only a few years since. A cal lenge passed between Col. Farrow and Mr. M. A. Nevin. The latter was a one legged man, and the former objected to meeting him on that accountnot taking, however, the same practical view of the matter that Dooly did. He objected in accordance with a provision of the code. Mr. Nevin, therefore, offered to allow Col. Farrow to enclose one of his legs in'a bee gum. The matter was finally adjusted by a meeting between Col. Fanow and Maj. Tom O'Connor, the second of Mr. Nevin shots were exchanged but no damage was done. If Dooly had remembered how John Farrago, a Pennsylvania militia Captain, once declined a "duel, he might have amneded his answer to profit. Farrago was once challenged and replied in these words. SIR I have two objections to this duel business. The one is lest I should hurt you the other is kst you should hurt me. I do not see what good it would do me to shoot you. I could make no use of you when dead for any culinary pur pose as I would a rabbit" or a turkey. I could not eat you. Why, then, needless ly shoot you down? A buffalo would make better meat than you. For, though your flesh may be delicate and tender, it wants that firmness and consistency that takes and retains salt. It might make a good barbecus, it is true, being of the na ture of a raccoon or opossum but I do not like&barbecued meat. Besides, it would seen a strange thing for me to shoot at anything that stands still to be shot at, as I am accustomed to shoot at things flying or running or jumji ing. Were you on a tree, now, like a squirrel, trying to hide yourself in the branches, and I could spy you through interveining boughs and leaves, your hindarparts being visible, I think I should enjoy taking a shot at you. But as it U, thpre is no skill of judgment in either dis covering you or bringing you down. As to myself, I do not like to staid in the way ot anything harmful, I am afraid you might hit me. I shall conse quently stay at a distance. If you want to try your pistol take some object, such as a tree or door, about my dimensions. If you hit that send me word, and will publicly acknowledge that if had been in the same place you might also have hit me, Yours truly, John Earrago. Cor. Philadelphia Weekly Timet. Romance of a Dust Barrel.f The honor and fortune of a lady once hung upon the result of a law suit in one of the New York courts. The most important part of the evidence in her favor was in the contents of three let ters. She had nut them away in her desk but when she searched it the letters were not to be found. They had been stolen. The lady's counsil informed her that unless these letteis could be produced the case would ge against her. The trial came on, and on the morning of the third day the lady did not appear in court. The counsel were annoyed, but went on with the cross-examination of the plaintiff, the lady's husband. Suddenly the woman rushed into the court-room, and excitedly exclaimed to hei counsel, so loud that the court and jury heard her: "I have found them'." Examining the package she handed to them, the counsel found three old letters, which had been badly torn, but were now skilfully patched together. They were dirty and stained. "If the court please." said the counsel, "I now offer in evidence three letters, which, up to this moment, we could not find." "Let us examine them," said the plaintiff's counsel. Ihey looked at them carefully, and then remarked to the court: "We object to the admission of these papers They purport to be letters writ ten by some peison, but they are so patched and pasted that there is no way by which they can be identified as the genuine letters." We propose, if your honor please, to SIIOAV that they were wiitten by the plaintiff, were lost, and found in a most extiaordinary mannei," leplied the lady's counsel. The comt examined the letters, amid the silence of the audience and tbe anx iety of the husband. You may iden tify them," at last said the Judge, and then offei them in evidence.' The plaintiff was again placed on the stand "Did you e\ei see these letteis be- foic'" The v, itness' hand tiembled while he held the letteis, and his face giew white. "It is possible," was his hesitating re- "Are they in your handwriting1*'1 "It looks likf my writing "Are not the signatures jours"'' "They look like mj wiiting. 'IIa\e yon an doubts that they aie your signatures:"' He hesitated. "Answer the question," said the couit. "I can't say that I ha\e," he stammered out. "That is all." The le+ters were admitted as evidence and the woman's honoi was saved. Those letters had been thrown from waste basket into a dust barrel. A rag picker, while searching the barrel was at tracted by the signatures, read a few words. They excited his curiosity. He searched for and found all the pieces, and carefully put them togethei, tor he saw money in them. One day he saw the same name in the papers, and connected with the lawsuit. He sought out the lady, Provi dence leading him to her rather than to her husband. She paid him a good reward, and instantly hastened to the court room. The letters saved her from ruin. Few of those who saw their exhibition in court knew hw she found them. But to-day that rag-picker owns a paying stall in one oi the city markets, the result of his finding the pieces of three old letters in a dust brrrel.Youth's Companion. ^0^. A Receipt for Muffins. As we all know, there are some women who are natural cooks., The "natural de pravity of inanimate objects" seems charmed away when they get hold of bowl and spoon. Their ovens always bake on both top and bottom. Soups never scorch, nor biscuits sour. They always carry their recipes in their heads. With what exasperating indefiniteness do they answer you when you ask them how they make any particular thing,muffins, for instance. "Dear me, I never have much of a rule about such things." "But can't you give me a little idea? John has so often spoken of your muf fins since we took tea with you, and I really should like to learn how to make them." "Well, I stir up a pretty stiff batter de pends something on how many folks I have to tea." "Do you use milk?" "Yes, if I have it if not, I take water." "Any eggs?" "Well, it eggs are cheap, I break in a couple, if they are dear, 1 don't al- ways." "You use some buttter?" "Oh yes! a piece about as big as an egg." She pauses, as if that were all. You timidly suggest "Cream tartar or soda?" A look of surprise creeps over her face, as if she would say, "What does the woman mean by asking so many questions?" but she says: "Well, if I have sour milk I don't use cream tartar if the milk's sweet, I put in a couple of spoonfuls of cream tartar and one ot soda." You wish that you dared ask whether it's table or teaspoonfuls that she means, but if you are a novice you think it must be tablespoonfuls, the muffins are so light. She evidently now considers the thing complete. "You haven't said anything about the flour?" you enquire, with inward trem bling but you really do wish to please John. The look of surprise changes to wide eyed amazement. "Flour? Why, I supposed any goose would know about that. A good bowlful of course. I always used my own judg ment about the flour." You retire from the field discomfited, but not being easily discouraged, try to follow those "directions." The result is something very different from Mrs* Handy's dedicate muffins. John breaks one open very suspiciously, and, after a minutes inspection, pushes back his plate, with that expression of huge patience which men assume when they want to say something severe but dont,and says: Haven't you any bread, Mary? Don't let the child touch these. They are as tough as leather. Why don't you ask Mrs. Handy how she makes her muffins? They're something like." You nerve yourself and pleasantly ask if he wouldn't like a slice of dry toast. (Such a comfortris dry toast is under such circumstances!) In a week or two, after a series of experiments, you finally evolve from your "inner consciousness," and flour and eggs, some yery creditable muf fins,but you don't call your experience judgment.Mary Blake, in Scribner for November. CT How a Man Takes Care of His Baby. In spite of all the slatements to the con trary, there are men who help take care of their children. They are the kindest and best husbands in the world. They do not wish to see their wives overbur dened with care and worry, and they in tend to help them a great deal, and actu ally do. Yet it cannot be denied, that their opinion concerning the value of their services and thoir wives' oppinion on the same subject do not exactly coincide. One of these goed husbands will help dress the children for breakfast, and speak of it with a grandly virtuous air, while the fact is that he only washed the face of one while his wife washed and dressed the other three. helps get the children ready for church: that is, he buttons up Dick's boots, and helps Jenny put on her gloves after he has leisurely and comfortably dressed himself, while his wife ties sash es, and hunts up odd glevef, and puts on collars, and curls one child's hair and ashes'another's hands, and in the inter vals "does up" her own hair, and suves the baby irom the razor, and Jenny's best bonnet from the baby. He stands pa tiently in the hall as the bells begin to toil, and mildly calls, "It is getting late, Maria." Which fact Maiia knows as well as he does, for her hauds are tremb ling so with nervousness and hasts that she can hardly put a single pin in its right p'ac^. Just as the last strokes of the btU are sounding, they hurry off to chuich, loosing entiiely the calming in fluence which comes from a leisurely walk on a fine Sunday morning He takes the opportunity to remark, with just a shade of reproof in his gentle tones, "I can't undeistand win it takes you so long to get ready. It really does seem as it wTith as much as I do to help ou, we need not be obliged to huny so at the last minute. I don't like to see 3'ou go up the aisle with your face as red as a lobster,"which of couiie, is very sooth ing to Maria's iuitated nerves. The father cares for the baby at night in very much the same fashion. The mother has lifted the child into her own bed, and back into its cradle again, in the vain hope that in one place or the other he will go to sleep has biought drinks of water for him: rocked the cradle and sung to its uneasy occupant softly and sleepily for an hour, till finally she thinks that if she is to be in this semi-amphibious state, half out of bed, and halt in, the air from the open window is too cold for her. She knows if she tries to shut it herself, the little tyrant will instantly miss her pres ence and be ten times wider awake than ever, and all the hour's singing and rock ing will be labor lost. So, with much regret, she softly asks John to get up and close the window. He has lain remarka bly still and breathed rather heavily, and is somewhat difficult to arouse for a man who afterward declares that he was wide awake all the time. But like a good husband she ia, he cheerfully closes the window, and gets an extra blanket for the baby, and pleas antly asks, as he settles down into the pillows again, What makes the baby so uneasy to-nigiht?" He manifests a strange indifference to his wife's reply, and in fact nothing more is heard from him till morning, while his wife sleepily and painfully works away for an hour longer. But at breakfast, with what calm complacency does he speak of the trouble the baby made us last night, with an us fairly editional in its comprehensiveness. The next night he goes into a room by himself to sleep. He can't stand it to have his rest broken so," but adds generously,' I'll take care of him the next night." And so he does till about twelve o'clock, when the baby wakes and cries. For ten minutes he tries faithfully to get him to sleep again, and then ignomainiously retreats and calls for "mamma."From article by Mary Blake, in Home and Society," Scrib?ier for Feb. The Day of the Dead." Edward King writes to the Boston Journal as follows regarding the observ ance of this day by the French: As for the day of the dead, it is the most touch ing and tender observance in France all classes of population go to the cemeteries, and crown the tombs of their lost with wreaths and immortelles and with more perishable blossoms. The custom is un iversal in this country, and in some sec tions the peasants have very curious cere monials in connection with the anniver sary. In the departments of Brittany and the Maine, the peasants during the night after All Saints', run through the fields bearing fire brands, the charred pieces ef which they carefully preserve' as charms against any ills that may be fall cattle or stock. In the neighborhood of Toulouse, until within a few years, on the evening preceding the second of No vember there were processions in the cem eteries toward the small hours. The cler gy conducted a sombre array of maskers and of trembling men and" women, who carried long tapers in their hands, and fancied that they saw ghosts at every turn. On such occasions the Dies Irm and the burial services were always chan ted. In Paris the tombs of the illustri ous dead are literally buried under flow ers. Every year some Americans cover the grave of Lafayette with rare blossoms. To the American, accustomed now and then to wander through the grassy glades land sylvan dells of our lovely cemeteries at home, there is but little that is attract ive in the stone walks and hard cold, looking tombs in this country but no one can help being touched by the beautiful memorial service here. It becomes year ly more of a problem how Paris shall bti ry its dead. The cemeteries now in use have beea dug over, and over, until med- ical men have cried out, "Beware of the plague! Transport your cemeteries into the country." But for the Parisian a jour ney to Enghein or Fontainebleau or St. Mauer each time that he wished to stand by the grave, of the lost, would seem a ter rible trial. Toward the end of the last century there was a pestilence because of the overcrowded condition of the ceme teries, and it was at that time that Jhe fa mous corridors of human bones, which so many tourist have seen in the Paris Cat acombs, were constructed with the remains taken from the grave-yards. The citv is dotted all over with the sites of ancient small cemeteries, now almost forgotten. Indeed, one may be said to walk over the dead every dav. Rabelais was buried where the Church of St. Paul now stands the St. Joseph Market house covers the grave of Moliere and a few years since the burial place of the great Cardinal Du bois was found in the filthy gutter of a dark cellar. Thus death lurks in the midst of life. How Joe Lost a Bad Reputation. Joe Thornton was the worst boy in the school, and everybody said it. He was twelve years old now: a strong, good-look ing lad who could not read intelligibly because his mind was bent on mischief the whole day through. With the winter teacher,aman,he just kept within bounds but every summer he had a brush, as he called it, with the woman teacher, and kept her in an anxious, excited state throughout the term. This summer the presiding genius of the red school house had a kind tace, and so tender a heart that she never once thought of its capa bilities of becoming steely when circum stances might cause it to harden. Joe always had a name for "his teacher. The winter schoolmaster had been Long Shanks the lady who had taught the sum mer preMOUs was Ma}-Pole and the lit tle girl who smiled down on them this summer was Rose-bud. As this'was her first school, Joe confided to the boys that he should postpone breaking her for a while so, for a few days, she was left to the illusion that the group of little child ren aiound her was made up of so many chei ubs, then he began to lay plans for a siege. His base of operating at first always con sistel in defying the rules so his fiist of fense was staging outside for half an houi or so, atlei school had been called at recess. Now, the summer before he had not onlj stayed outside, but he had pelted the school-house wall as well so you see he meant to be a little forbearing, after all. Well, what did Rose-bud do but detain him as_ many minutes after the others were dismissed as he had remained ab sent. "Under ordinary circumstances, Joe would have just marched out and paid no attention to the teacher's command. But the little school-mistiess stood quietly by the door and, and looked at him and though he was well aware that, physical ly, he was much the stronger, there was in her eyes a look of power that he did not resist. But when once set free he gave a whoop upon the school-house steps, and told the boys when he joined them that Rose bud and he had got to have a brush, and that was just what it was com ing to. On his way to school Joe passed a lit tle, grim smithy, where the village horses were shod. The proprietor of this estab lishment, Jack Jones, and he were old ac quaintances. The next morning, when Joe passed for school, Jack stood in the door, looking as sooty as his shop. He was a huge fellow, sinewy and powerful, and looked as though he might have* been made at his own forge and yet in this steely case throbbed a heart soft and warm, and exceedingly tender. Rose bud, in passing that way once or twice, had looked into his shop with seeming inter est, because it was work, and Jack had fancied that he caught the same look in her face that had belonged to a little daughter of his,who had rested now seven years under the daisies. 4 Joe." said Jack, "John Town told me last night that you was goin' to lick the teacher." Joe straightened np and looked import ant. "Wal. yis, Jack, I do think of com mencin' operations, a little, in that line. She's the delicatest little thing, and it won't do to be very savage, ana it won't do to have her bossin' of a feller 'round, nuther, you know." "See here, Joe," said Jack, "I don't be lieve you ever had a fust-class whippin' in your life, and I'll tell you what I'll do: You tech a hair of that gal's head, and I'll give you a sound maulin', as sure as my name's Jack Jones and Jack brought down his sledge-hammer of a fist with emphasis on his leathern apron. Joe put hi? thumb up to his nose and marched on. He did not care much for Jack's threat he felt so sure he could keep out of his way, and he did mean to give the young school-mistress a scare, and this was the way*he would do it: He would break the rules again, and she would call him out, but he wouldn go. He felt pretty sure she was gritty enough to undertake to whip him then he would catch the stick, break it, throw it over her headassume so offensive an attitude, in short, that she would be glad to retire to her desk and leave him master of the field. This was to be the programme. It was all to be without bloodshed, and let Jack Jones catch him if he could. So, a little while after school had taken up that morning, he commenced throw ing spit-balls but Rosebud, who was at tending to a class, seemed entirely obliv ious, When she had finished, she walked up the aisles to do sums. She was at work a littl#backot his seat, when pop went a ball and hit Tiny Smith on the chin. At the instant, from some mysterious fold of Rosebud's dress,flew a long,though willow blue-beech, and gave several quick slashes around the shoulders of Joe's linen coat before he seemed to com prehend the position. Then he sprang up and caught at the stick. But the blows come thicker and faster, first at one point then at another, until the whole stick was worn up, and he had not suc ceeded in catching it once. Joe was de feated, but not conquered, and he would get the better of her yet, as sure as fate, he told the boys at recess. So all day long, while the wounds smarted, he pon dered some new method of assault and no doubt, Rosebud would have been equal to the occasion had nothing super vened. But as Joe went home that aight with head bent, still studying at his problem, he was caught by Jack, who held him as it in one of his own iron vises. He carried him into bis shop and laid him across his anvil block. Hand me the hammer," said Jack to his man, who was at work at the bellows, that puffed and snorted, and threw the angry sparks up, snapping and crackling. Jack turned the boy over on the block, both his hands in one of his, placed his knee upon him and raised his free arm. "Holdhold on, Jack," blubbered Joe. "II didn't do it. I never theched 'er. But she gin me a awful waullupin'." Jack hesitated. "I've hearn' long enough that Joe Thornton was the wus't boy in school, and was travelin' on 's fast,she could to the gallows. He'd better die a respectable death here, at this present time, and not be 'lowed to walk the airth any longer, jest for a skerge, never dewing any goodwhatsom- ever." Jack looked like a grimy angel of ret ribution, firmly devoted to his work. "O Jack, I won't, I never will ag'in! Jest lemme go this time, and see ef I do. I'll do all I can for mother, and try to be a good boy at school. Do, Jack let me up." Jack set him off the block and replaced his anvil. "Ef you're sot on bein' a good bov,Joe, I hope you'll be a reg'lar Methsaier, and I'll be the last man that'll ever end yer days. But as yer present character stands the whole community would be glad to git red on ye. Did ye ever think of that, my boy?" "I never knowed how mean I was be foie, Jack. I ken see it now, and I'm goin' to change." And, really, afrer this Joe went to work with a new set of faculties that his brain appeared to have in reserve somewhere and that is the way it happened that he lost the reputation of being the worst boy in school. -Marie S. Ladd, in January Phrenological Journal. 1 Treeless Judea. The only trees one meets are the olives which however, are by no means plenti ful in Judea, and mostly old and stum ted looking. In Samaria we saw several cons derable plantations of them, but yet that icountry is also sadly deficient of trees Where now is the oak tree on which Ab salom hnng by his bushy locks? Theie is, 1 believe, only one remaining sufficiently large lor this and yet we read that the "Wood of Ephraim," where he was defeat ed, des royed more men than did the sword. And where is the sveamore tree upon which Zaccheus climbed? I doubt if there be one such within many miles, and yet we know that Jericho was once richly clothed with trees and verdure, and called the "City of palms." Indeed, that Palestine generally was once extreme ly fertile, and rich in woods and verdure, is evident from the meaning of many of the Scriptural proper names There is along almost every Ijttle water-course a number of what are called trees, but they are generally willows or mere copses of brush wood. A tree of any descrip tion, of size sufficient to make an ordin ary beam for building purposes, is quite a raritysuch are only to be found miles apart. The vine, so much allnded to in the Bible, is somewhat rarely seen, but that it was extensively grown is evident by the traces of terraces npon the steep est hills still abundantly visible. Then, as to the flowers"The Rose of Sharon" and the "Lily of the Valley" cannot be found. There are many wild flowers cer tainly' but generally they grow out of a "dry ground," and have, with very good blossoms, almost no green foliage. "Thorns and briers" are abundant, ..but very little foliage also, and seem useful only for burning. The fig-trees even are few and far between, and the orange, ap ricot, and almond still more so. The fields are not enclosed, except in some rare csaes, where a wise husbandman has gathered the loose stones into piles around his border. Hedges are rare, but when seen they are generally formed of large cacti covered with dust, and having in the twilight a somewhat weird look. Cultivated lands in Judea are very rare, and even in Samaria are much covered with stones, making ploughing with the miserable piece of crooked wood, a very superficial operation. We felt surprised and ashamed oftener than once to see our dragoman (who frequently rode consider ably in advance) lead his lolloweis right through a field of growing corn, without the slightest compunction, or any consid eration for the husbandman, merely to save a few minutes' time in going to see some object, or reach some desired path. The inhabitants seem so accustomed to submission under any and every Turkish oppression that no complaint oroppoiiton was offered.The Bast, by W. Y. Martin. .^__ Harried in Haste. A wedding as abrupt, if not as fan tastic, as Mr. Wemmick's took place not long ago at Marlboro on the Hudson. During the afternoon a well-known resi dent of the village called on the Rev. Dr. Osbon and invited him to dinner at six o'clock. "Bring a marriage certificate with you," said the host "we may have a wedding there to-night. The doctor is a discreet man, and did as he was told, his friend's house he met a large com pany, and after dinner was announced teok his seat at the well-appointed table. The host undertook to carve the turkey, but made such bungling work of his du ties that one of the guests was constrain ed to remark to him: "You ahould get married, then your wife would teach you the proper way to do these things." The host did not deny the soft impeach ment, but told what manner of woman he should like for a wife ending by saying "Now, before we proceed further, 'spose we take a vote as to who I shall marry." The company entered into the canvass with great hilarity, and after the vote was taken it was declared that the host was in duty bound to marry his house keeper, a young and well educated lady who had presided over the establishment for more than a year. The young lady had stepped into the kitchen to give some final directions to the cook, and when she returned she was informed of the views of the company. She was completely ta ken back, but when the ladies coaxed her to givehar consent, she placed herself in the hands of her friends. "Halloo! let's get married now!' exclaimed the host with the imperturbable Wemmick's self possession. The dinner was suspended indeed it had scarcely begun the bride took off her white apron: the bridegroom dropped his napkin: the two were made one the marriage certificate was signed and the company kissed the bride and then sat down to dinner with a first rate appetite. The next day a spinster in the neighborhood, hearing what had happen ed raised her hands towards Heaven and exclaimed in a spirit of true devoutness "How sudden there's no tellin' whose turn '11 come next." The Buckwheat Cake: My flapjack! His of the Thou tbat agreest with me, Of thee I sing? Then that with pork art fried, Then buttered on one side, With maple syrup thick applied Thou luscious thing! O' savory morsel mine! What taste is like to thine, Well-buttered one? I love to watch the fry, To see cook toss the high, And stick thee with a fork to try If thou art done! Before the break of dawn The cook, with many a yawn, The batter makes. Then, at the breakfast-bell, Down rush the boys pell-mell, And all delighted yell, "O! buckwheat cakes!" O, red-faced cook, to thee Shall loud eucomiums be Forever more! Soon, when our stomachs feel Oppressed by such a meal, "V promise that we'll Eat somewhat slower. And when our spirits rise To dwell Paradise, Our hope is this: A gorgeous throne our seat, Fair hour is at our feet. Hot buckwheat cakes to eat What greater bliss? A Cold Day London. A terrible day for the poor coster mongcr and stall-keepers of Whitecross street. The fishwoman who yesterdaj stigmatized the weather as beastly, be cause it drenched her shawl and compell ed her to stand in a puddle, could not, unless she sent home for a kettle of hot water and thawed the stubborn ice in the kennel, find a puddle to stand in, though she walked a mile in search of it and her life depended on it. A day so bit'mglv, bitterly cold that the very turnips and carrots set out in penny lots on the bleak boards looked nipped up and frost-bit*en, and would be grateful to any one who would take them home and pop them into a comforting pot ot hot soup. Gin fails, this morning, to be at what is desired by the miserable women who indulge in it at the bars of the Whitecross sheet gin shops. There does not seem to be warmth enough in the fiery liquid to set free the slatternly dram-drinkers' poweis of speech, or to alter the leaden hue of their lips. The ma.e loafers at the beer shops find no comfort in pewter measuresperhaps it is because their pockets aie fro/en out and loiter by the lamp-posts, asking each other in dismayed voice how long this ere is a-go n' to last," as they stamp their feat and blow on their knuckles for warmth's sake. The sudden fiost seems to have paralyzed this neighbor-hood of squalor, and everybody is half benumbed and wretched lookingexcept the child ren. Here they come in a troopBilly of yesterday and his young friends among the number, and though the shoes aud boots of the whole party, on account of their ramshackle, would not, if all sold to an old Jew realize enough monev to buy a new pair, the Dervish dance they performed yesterday was quite a lame performance to what they are equal to this morning. Their jackets and frocks are miserably thin (for there are little girls as well as boys,) and flutter in the wind, and in many cases the tiny tatter demlions have neither hat nor cap, and their hair is prematurely gray with snow that lodges in it. But ttey don't seem to mind it a bit. Mind it! They rejoice and revel in it, and laugh out loud, though their noses are blue, and the breath puffs out as white steam when they open their mouths.London Society. A Colored .Skeptic. When schools were estaplished in the South for the education of the negro, they were eagerly patronized by the colored folks of all ages. Coy maidens of thirty and bashful lads equally old gayly trudg ed to sehool with diminutive primers in their hands, while the small fry swarmed tn the school-houses, and were enthusias iic on the education question. Of Pete, the subject of our anecdote, it might be truly written that "ne'er did pencil trace a whiter eye or blacker face. His form er master, Dr. ,had taken great pains with him, instructing him daily in read ing and writing. In the fall Pete was to go to school, and anxiously looked for ward to it. This was in 1869, when the sun was in total eclipse in August. There were all sorts of rumors among the color ed people about calamities which would happen at the time of this phenomenon. A few days before it occurred the follow ing conversation took place between Pete and a friend: "Pete, did you know dar was gwine to be a 'clipse ob de sun next week?" "Yes," said Pete, ',1 heard de folks talk in' 'bout it." "Pete, I hear dat awful things is gwine to happen when it comes. Dey say dat de world is gwine to come to an end." Curling his lips in scorn,and fixing his big white eyes on him, Pete answered, with contempt, "Go 'way, niggah. Don't you know dat school opens in Septem. ber? How, den, can de world come to an end in August?"Editor's Drawer, in Harper's Magazine for February. Took it in Trade. When Tom Plynn was the artist of the 'Open Letter," he laughed at the idea that there was any trouble connected with the soliciting of advertisements. Said he, "I can get a page of 'ads' in a day." It was suggested that he couldn't get one "ad" in a week. He canvassed three days with no result, and on the fourth came in with a half column dentist ad vertisement. "Put that in, he cried, triumphantly "What did you charge him for that?" "Ten dollars." "Where's the cash?" "Took it out in trade. He agreed to pull two teeth (spit), but I only let him pull one (spit), and he broke that other, left a root (spit) in the gum. If any of you fellows want a tooth (spit) pulled, go to 517 S Street,as there five (spit) dollars coming to us." It was subsequently developed that the tooth was a sound one.