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THE ATLANTIAN
15
SEEING HER FINISH.
A widower belonging to a country vil
lage lately led to the altar a fourth
bride. After the honeymoon the happy
couple settled down in his home and, as
the surrounding country was new to the
lady, she was anxious to visit all the
places of interest in the locality. Among
the spots visited was the village church
yard, and there the busband and wife
paused before a very elaborate tomb
stone, the property of the bridegroom.
The bride, being a little near-sighted,
asked him to read the inscription. In
solemn tones he read:
“Sacred to the memory of Ann, be
loved wife of John ; also Jane,
beloved wife of John ; also Mary,
beloved wife of John”
He stopped abruptly.
“What are the words beneath?’’ inno
cently asked the lady, and her horror can
be imagined when he read:
“Be ye also ready.’’
THOUGHTFUL OFFICE BOY.
The office boy looked at the persistent
lady artist, who calls six times a week,
and said, firmly:
“The editor’s still engaged.”
‘ ‘ Tell him that doesn’t matter. I
don’t want to marry him.”
“I haven’t the heart to tell him, miss.
He’s had several disappointments to
day. ’ ’—Sketch.
RESOURCEFUL EDITOR.
‘ ‘ The late General Booth, ’ ’ said a
Salvation Army official of New York,
often used to urge the ‘ down-and-outer ’
to cultivate the quality of resourceful
ness.
“He would illustrate this quality by
means of a resourceful western editor,
who found one night that he had neither
advertisements nor copy for his third
page. The page accordingly appeared
blank, with a note in small type at the
top:
“ ‘This space will be useful for the
children to write upon’.”—Washington
Star.
A RIPPLE FROM SCANTY
CREEK.
Miss Laura Gaston Young, the belle of
Scanty Creek, dropped in on ye corre
spondent last Saturday and left us a
iness of artichokes, a persimmon-fed
’possum and enough red peppers and
‘ ‘ sweet taters ” to “ season ’ ’ and
“trim” the varmint. Call again, Wing
less Seraph 1—Memphis News-Scimitar.
A FABULOUS AGE.
Spratts—“Miss Elder is much older
than I thought.”
Hunker—“Impossible! ”
Spratts—“Well, I asked her if she
had read ASsop’s Fables, and she said
she read them when they first came out. ’ ’
—Homo Journal.
The earnestness of life is the only
passport to the satisfaction of life.—
Theodore Parker.
The most we can get out of life is its
discipline for ourselves and its useful
ness for others.—Tryon Edwards.
NO TIME TO CELEBRATE.
Night was coming on, the storm was
increasing, and some of the deck fittings
had already been swept overboard,
when the captain decided to send up a
distress signal, repeats the Christian Her
ald. The rocket was already lit and
about to ascend when a solemn-faced
passenger stepped up.
‘ ‘ Cap ’n, ’ ’ said he, “ I’d be the last
feller on earth to cast a damper on any
man’s patriotism, but seems to me this
here’s no time for celebratin ’ an ’ settin ’
off fireworks!”
COMING EVENTS.
An “Uncle Tom’s Cabin" company
was starting to parade in a small New
England town, when a big gander from
a farm yard near at hand waddled to
the middle of the street and began to
hiss.
One of the double-in-brass actors
turned toward the fowl and angrily ex
claimed :
“Don’t be so quick to jump at con
clusions. Wit till you see the show. ’ ’
TIME—PLACE—GIRL.
“Emil, you shoidd see our new shop
girl! Her fine, delicate face framed in
masses of golden hair”
“Only yesterday you called her a red
headed peasant girl! ’ ’
“Yes; but my wife was with me
then. ’ ’
A JOKE.
Doctor—I hope you arc following my
instructions carefully, Sandy—the pills
three times a day and a drop of whisky
at bedtime.
Patient—Weel, sir, I may be a wee bit
behind wi’ the pills, but I’m aboot six
weeks in front wi’ the whusky.
AT TWO O’CLOCK IN THE
MORNING.
The Jolly Fellow (to the man above,
who has been dragged from his bed by
the wild ringing of the front door bell)—
One of your windows is wide open.
Mr. Dressing Gown—Thanks, awfully,
old man. Which one is it?
The Jolly Follow—The one you have
your head out of. Ta, ta!
OLD FASHIONED “UNCLE
JOE.”
“Uncle Joe” Cannon is the most fa
mous ladies ’ man in congress. The other
day, at a social gathering, he made some
reference to a Mother Hubbard.
“Oh, Mr. Speaker’’—his friends still
address “Uncle .Toe” by that title—
‘ ‘ they do not call them Mother Hubbards
any more. Now it is a kimono. ’ ’
A charming young woman had correct
ed him.
“Uncle .Toe” bowed low, looked non
plused, and then squared off to say:
“Madam, out in my country they do.”
I’d buy some nerve for Teddy R.,
Some weight for William T.;
Then next, for Woodrow Wilson
I’d get a Ph. D.
Some kerosene for worthy John;
For Goodwin, a new wife,
And then I’d blow in all the rest
To buy good jokes for Li f
HAVE YOU QUARRELED?
Two years ago, in a small New York
village, a man and wife quarreled. They
agreed to separate. The days were long,
weary hours for each or them after that.
He longed for her, and his daily work—
which before the separation was light
and easy, because he was working for
her—was nothing but torture, because
there were no longer any words of sym
pathy to help him on and up the road to
success. He was in her thoughts most of
the time, but she was too proud to call
him back.
Seven hundred lonely days passed for
each of them, and then the husband sent
a basket of carnations to her with a note
asking her to forget and her permission
to call that evening.
The woman couldn’t keep the heart-
joy out of the note she sent back to him.
The whole world was joyful and singing
for both of them. She put on her pretti
est gown and made herself as beautiful
as she could.
In the evening at the appointed hour
he called at her boarding house. She
met him with outstretched arms ready
for the kiss that she had been waiting so
long to receive.
‘ ‘ Will! ’ ’ she cried, in delight.
‘ ‘ Mary! ” he said, throwing his arms
about her.
And then came the kiss. But the wife
became limp in his arms, her head fell
back—her very happiness had stopped
her heart.
“If I only had those two years!”
sobbed Will, two days later, as Mary’s
body was lowered into the grave.—Even
ing World.
THE FOURTEEN ERRORS OF
LIFE.
The fourteen mistakes of life, Judge
Rcntoul told the Bartholomey Club, are:
To attempt to set up your own stan
dard of right and wrong and expect ev
erybody to conform to it.
To try to measure the enjoyment of
others by your own.
To look for judgment and experience
in youth.
To endeavor to mold all dispositions
alike.
Not to yield in unimportant trifles.
To look for perfection in our own ac
tions.
To worry ourselves and others about
what cannot be remedied.
Not to alleviate, if we can, all that
needs alleviation.
To consider anything impossible that
wo cunnot ourselves perform.
To believe only what our finite minds
can grasp.
To live as if the moment, the time, the
day were so important that it would live
forever.
To estimate people by some outside
quality, for it is that within which
makes the man.—London Standard.
A CONNOISSEUR.
“Mother, is father in the fruit busi
ness?”
‘ ‘ No, my son. What put that idea into
your head?”
1 ‘ Well, when he took me for a walk the
other day he met Mr. Jones, and all they
talked about was peaches, pippins and
dates..”
THE MEN AND THE WOMEN.
Willie Johnson’s father gave him a
nickel to buy candy with and Willie
bought sixty jawbreakers and ate them.
Willie’s uncle Tom gave him a dime
and Willie bought half a pound of gum
drops and ate them.
Willie’s uncle Jim gave him a dime
and Willie bought twelve sticks of can
dy and ate them.
Willio’s paternal grandfather gave
him a quarter, which he invested in one
bunch of chewing gum, forty chocolate
creams and twelve white sugar mice—
and ate the lot.
Willie’s maternal grandfather gave
him a quarter, which Willie turned into a
varied assortment of cinnamon drops, lic
orice balls, lemon drops, sour balls and
peanut brittle—all of which he ate.
When the family gathered for dinner,
it being the family reunion, Willie’s
mother would not let him eat and pie or
preserves, because she did not approve of
ricli foods for children.
Willie Johnson was the only one of the
family who did not suffer indigestion the
next day, and Willie’s mother reminded
him gently that if she had permitted him
to gorge himself on sweet foods he, too,
would have been ill.
WHY SHE LEFT.
Sammy—I thought that Mrs. Mannish
was such an ardent suffragette. Why did
she leave the meeting the other night
when she was billed to make a speech?
Fanny—Someone sent word that her
poodle was sick.
AN EASIER WAY.
* ‘ There is always room at the top, ’ ’
said the sage.
“Aw, yes,” yawningly replied the
youth with the curly blond front hair;
“but it is so blame’ much easier to sit
at the bottom and make excuses.”
THOS. D. BRADLEY,
Member Division 457, O. R. C.,
and Pass. Conductor Southern
Railway.