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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.