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VOL. II.
f MEDLOCK’i ETHRO ARLINE. R, L. RODGERS.
[v Hcdlock, Ariiue & Kodgers.
WS
| The
Hebald is published in Sandersville,
everv Friday morning. Subscription
TWO DOLLARS per annum.
Uvertisements inserted at the usual rates.
Vo charge for publishing marriages or
i»tbs.
POETRY.
punishment hero on earth begins;
“l doctrine’s true, I liavn t any doubt;
For the proofs are layinall loose about;
And one of 'em is I can’t escape,
or a cruel destiny pins me down
To this mean little, green little one-hoss town.
From Godey’s Lady’s Book.
A Node.
liT A. S. TJFFEBER.
IhflTe heard that for all our earthly sins
• i hero on earth begins;
Early rising’s a terrible bore,
ii,av rise at half na
Early rising s a temuie oore,
And here they rise at half past four;
in ,l if you’re late they’ve a regular trick
ro jap and en<piiro “is the gentleman sick ?
Breakfast half over, all in one key,
f 0 rap and on (pure “is tno genuem
Breakfast half over, all in one key,
Polks hollow out “we’re waitin, yoi
'oiks hollow out “we’re waitin, you see;”
'or they do up old jokes exceedingly brown,
a this mean little, green little one-hoss town.
a letter for you in the post office lies,
runs the muck through the whole town's
eves
And half a dozen stragglers come,
And say “you’ve a letter, and it ain’t from
home,
fhe writer is all so pretty and slick,
tVe think its that gal what writ you last week. ”
And if you look grurn they’ll think you a
clown,.
[n uL - i little, green little one-hoss town.
If in a new garm nt forth yon go,
A wonderful interest the “natyves” show;
And all exclaim in the very same note,
1‘Xovr where did you get so much new coat?
And they pull up their cuffs and collars and
guess
■If you’d tried you might likely have got it
for less,” _ • ti
For genius all'runs to “heating down, ■
this mean little, green little one-hoss town.
Oh! to think there's a world outside of this,
world where the good fellows go !
•SELECT MISCELLANY.
Thomas Mordaunt’s Investment.
BY REV. HORATIO ALGER,JR.
One evening in October, 1850,
Thomas Mordaunt, a Boston mer
chant, was crossing over Cambridge
bridge, when bis attention was drawn
to a young man walking some rods •
in advance of him. The night was
dark and it was with difficulty that
he could discern his figure or his
movements. An impulse seized him
to hasten his steeds. It was fortunate
y that he did so, for the young man
stopping suddenly climbed the rail
ing of the brindge, and would have
flung himself into the river, had not
Mr. Mr. Mordaunt hastily seized his
arm and prevented him from ac
complishing his purpose.
“Hash young man, what would
you do?” he demanded hastily
“I would terminate a life which I
have wasted,” said the young man
bitterly.
“If you have wasted your life
hitherto, you are about to throw it
away utterly now. How is that go
ing to remedy matters?” asked the
merchant. „
“I am tired of life,” said the
young man after a pause.
“Because you have not lived pro
perly. Turn over a new leaf. Re
form your life and you will soon cease
to complain that you are tired of it.
“There was a dime when I might
have followed your advice, now I
cannot.”
“Why not ?”
“I have not a dollar left in the
world. I once had a handsome
property, now it isall gone.”
“You have strength and ability
still left, at least.”
“Who will lend me a helping hand?’
“I will.”
“And vet you don’t know me.
said the young man surprised. „
“No, but I will take you ou trust.
“You are very kifid. I place my
self in your hands. W 7 hat shall I
do?”
“First, take my arm and walk
home with me. You will pass the
night at my house. To-morrow we
will talk of your plans.”
This proposal was gratefully ac
cepted. The next morning Mr.
Mordaunt for the first time had a
good view of his visitor. He was a
young man, apparently about twenty-
live, but his face was pallid and lack
ed the fresh hue of health. The
marks of dissipation were easy to
read in his bloodshot eyes and heavy
and inflamed eyelids.
“First,” said the merchant, “I
should like to hear your story.
“Your kindness entitles you to my
confidence,” said the young man.
“My name is Frederic Evans. I was
left at twenty-one with twenty-five
thousand dollars, of which I had un
controlled possession. Instead _ of
embarking in businss, and making
myself a worthy member of society,
I gathered about me a set of young
men, and nearly every night was con
sumed in carousals which were often
kept up till morning. The excite
ment of this life was pleasurable, and
I fancied mysel fhappy. At all events
I gave myself no time for thought,
I need hardly say that I was very
popular with the companions who
feasted at my expense. My fortune
SANDERSVILLE, GEORGIA, FEBRUARY 6, 1874.
seemed to me large, and I fancied it
inexhaustible. A week ago I found
that not a dollar of it was left. Four
years of lavish expenditure had
drained it to the last dollar.
However, I treated the matter
lightly. I said to myself, “now it is
the turn of my friends. I have lavish
ed money upon them; I have lent
them without asking for repayment.
I will go to them.’ ”
“What success did you-meet with?’
“None at all.”
“The first whom I addressed pro
fessed much regret at my altered
circumstances, but was sorry that he
was unable to help me. The second,
to whom I frequently lent money, re
fused me without ceremony. An
other offered to lend me five dollars
if I would not apply to him again.
My indignation was such that I threw
the money in his face. Other ap
plications were equally unsuccessful.
I then endeavored to obtain em
ployment. But my appearance was
against me. Nobody wanted to em
ploy an intemperate man, and when
I promised reformation no one would
trust me. Then it was that I framed
the desperate resolution which you
were the means of thwarting. Now,
sir, you have my story. It is for
you to say whether you regret inter
fering with me last evening or not.”
“Fai; from it,” said the merchant
encouragingly. You are yet young.
Your life may be redeemed. Indeed
it is your duty to expiate your past
follies by a purer course of living.
Now what are your plans?”
“I should like to go somewhere
where I am not known. There I
can start fair. Here I should be
surrounded by my old temptations.”
“I think your views are wise and
judicious. What do you say to Cal-
ifonia ?”
“The very place,” said young
Evans eagerly.
“Be it so. I will lend you five
hundred dollars. This will pay your
passage out, and defray your expens
es till you can get something to do.”
Tho light of a new born hope
sparkled in the eyes of the young
man.
“But this on one condition.”
“Name it.”
“That you promise to abstain from
the use of intoxicating liquors.”
“Drawup apledge,” said the young
man promptly, “and I will sign it. It
has wrought me harm enough in the
past. It is my only salvation.
Ten days afterwards Frederic Ev
ans was on his way to California,
where in due time he landed.
In 1850, as it will be remembered,
California was a new country. The
time of its gold mines was recent.
From all parts of the country eager
eyes were turned toward this mod
ern Eldorado, where riches were to
be acquired on the easiest terms.
Frederic Evans at once made his
way to the mines. He found that
the stories which he had hmird had
not been exaggerated. At that ear
ly period fortunes were sometimes
made in less than a year. They were
sometimes lost in a day. It was a
strange, unsettled condition of socie
ty. Far from the restraints of civil
ization, crime and dissipation were
fearfully prevalent. The results of a
year’s hard labor were often lost at
the gaming-table in an hour. Disap
pointment and loss often led to quar
rels and bloodshed, sometimes to
robbery attended with violence.
From the wild scenes around him,
Frederic Evans kept himself steadi
ly aloof. At times, weary with his
day’s labor, and having no other way
to occupy his time, he was tempted
to indulge in the dangerous recrea
tion. But the thought of his prom
ise, of his obligations to Mr. Mor
daunt for the life which but for him
would have been sacrificed, withheld
him. He ilstened composedly to the
sneers of his companions, and held
on his way.
Let us now return to Mr. Mordaunt
He was a wealthy merchant, exten
sively engaged in foreign trade. His
career had been a singularly success
ful one. prosperity had been almost
uninterrupted for a period of many
years. It might have been faith in
his lucky star that led him to embark
in a variety of enterprises too great
for his capital
In the year 1857 there came a sud
den commercial crisis, which like a
great tidal wave swept over the coun
try, carrying into utter ruin many a
firm long established and generally
regarded as secure against any as
sault. There were many others which
reeled before the shock, and for a
time seemed wavering between life
and ruin.
Among these was the firm of Mor
daunt & Co. In ordinary times they
would have been quite secure. But
at this time the mercantile commun
ity, alarmed for their own safety, had
grown cautions, and denied to Mor
daunt the aid which he needed to car
ry him through.
" One morning he sat in his count
ing-room in despair. Heavy bills ma
tured that day which he had no means
of meeting. Failure seemed inevita
ble.
“This is the end of thirty years ac
tivity,” he said gloomily. “But hard
as it is, there seems to be no way of
escape, I must submit.” It was at
this moment that a stranger entered
his counting-room unannounced. Mr.
Mordaunt did not recognize him. He
was some what over thirty, with a
face browned by exposure to a south
ern snn, compact, sinewy, and health
ful. His face was prepossessing, and
his whole manner frank and courte
ous. *
“Have 3 r ou business with me?” ask
ed Mr. Mordaunt wearily.
“I wish to inquire how you are af
fected by this, crisis.”
“Do you ask as a friend or an en
emy?” inquired Mr. Mordaunt sus-
piciouly.
“As a friend, most emphatically.”
“Then,” said the merchant, “I have
no hesitation in saying, that unless I
can obtain the use of twenty thous
and dollars before two o’clock, I shall
be bankrupt. That would enable me
to weather the storm.”
“Will you give me a pen?” said the
stranger. “There, sir, take that and
use it,” he said after a moment’s
Jeruslia’s Adventure.
pause.
“A cheque for twenty thousand
dollars!” exclaimed Mr. Mordaunt
in excitement. This is salvation.
But why are yon so kind to me? How
have I deserved it?”
“Seven years ago,” said the young
man, “you saved my life, and put me
on the road to prosperity. I deter
mined to repay the debt if I were
able. To-day brings me the long
hoped for opportunity.”
The merchant grasped the hand
of the young man Cordially.
“I accept your assistance,” he
said, “on condition that you become
a partner in the firm which you have
rescued from ruin. I can promise
that it will be for your advantage,
since this sum is but a trifle to the
amount of our assets.”
My story is finished. The bread
which the merchant had cast upon
the waters had come back to him
after many days. But it was his
greatest satisfaction that he had re
scued a young man from destruction
and led him back from wrong courses
to a useful and honorable life.
The Family Album.
There is a sort of delirious joy in
looking over a-familv album, especi
ally if it, is a very old album with a
sprained back, which occasionally
and unexpectedly drops through
your fingers, leaving a couple of
cousins in one hand, and
three aunts in the other, and the bal
ance of the family under the chair.
The first picture is of an old gentle
man with an expression of wary cau
tiousness in his face as if he was en
gaged in dodging a wild bull, and
was somewhat doubtful of the result.
Opposite him is the grandmother, a
patient-looking lady in a black dress,
with a book in one hand and a pair
of spectacles in the other. There is
a feeble but well-meaning effort to
look safe in her face. On the next
leaf is a middle-aged man looking as
if he had been suddenly shot through
the roof a starch factory, and had
landed in the middle of a strange
country. Opposite is the picture of
his wife, who, having heard a rumor
of the catastrophe, has made up her
mind to be prepared for the worst.
Then follow the children—little girls
looking so prim as to make you
squirm, and little boys with their
eyes turned on their noses, and with
an expression on their faces of un
earthly solemnity. Then follow un
cles, taken in their overcoats, with a
spreading inclination in their clothes,
hair and face, as if they were bound
to get their money’s worth; and
aunts with warts on their noses, and
varnish in their hair, and preposter
ous lace collars about their necks.
There are also the pictures of Cous
in Aleck and his young wife who
stopped here when on their tour.
Besides these is the picture of the
man who lived next door for eight
years, at the end of which time his
wife died, and he moved to Illinois
with the children, and is now worth
fifty thousand dollars. He has been
photographed in his hat, which is
one size too large for him, and which
gives him an appearance of having
murdered his aunt and concealed the
body. Then there are two or three
fine looking corsairs of no particular
identity, and several broken-spirited
women with babies in their arms—
directly or indirectly related to the
owners of the album and the exhibi
tion closes.—Banbury News.
Colored preacher in St. Augustine
was over heard by a Northern lady
giving to an attentive assembly an
... . , tt q c ’
account of the deluge. He closed
his fancifully embellished history as
follows: “And de rain come down
in big spouts, and come up to the
door step of de house, and gin to
cober de flo, and den de sinner be
scaret, and knock at the do’ ob de
ark bery hard. And de big lion hear
de racket, and roar, and de big dog
bark, and de ox bellow, but Noah
keep on readin’ de Bible. And de
sinner say “Noah, Noah, let us come
in?” And Noah say “I am berry
sorry, but I can’t let you in, for de
Lord hab lock’ de do’ and trow
away de key.”
BY MAURICE SOLOMON.
“Well, I kind of reckon I do look
scrumptious,” said the fair bride of
forty, Mrs. Jerusha Holcomb, as she
stood before a mirror in the upper
apartment of a New York hotel.
“And” she continued, after she had
surveyed her person to her entire sat
isfaction, “I’ve pat my jewelry and
my elegant lace shawl where thieves
won’t get ’em. I’ve heard tell a score
of times: of hotel thieves, and they do
say a pound of prevention—no it’s
an ounce—is better than a pound of
cure—so I’m not goin’ to leave my
fixings behind me to'be stolen. If
Jerusha Holcomb never has been fif
ty miles from hum till now she knows
a thing or the two, and she’s not go
in’ to be taken in by New York bur
glars, I kind of reckon.”
Having ended her soliloquy, Mrs.
J erusha Holcomb, of Winfiffid, Mass.,
pranced out of the room and down
the hotel stairs with all the fuss and
feathers of the proudest of belles.
For forty summers Miss Jurusha
Noble pined and languished for a
lover, had almost given up the hope
of securing one, when widower Hol
comb suddenly proposed and, soon
after that important epoch in her life,
Jurusha Noble became his wife.
Mrs. Jerusha was tall and angular
and slim, reminding one greatly of a
bean-pole. Corkscrew curls adorned
her bead in front, while a large wa
terfall—fearfully and wonderfully
made—graced it at the back, which
aforesaid waterfall was highly orna
mented with flowing curls, just three
shades lighter than those in front.
Her hat was in the prevailing style,
girlish looking as a bride’s should be
with garnishings of grapes, cherries,
a few roses and daisies, by way of
contrast, you know, a feather, and
streamers of bright scarlet ribbon. A
broach shawl of the most gaudy col
ors, green merino dress, and laven
der kids, completed her toilet on the
day we made her acquaintance.
Mr. and Mrs. H. had come to New
York on their bridal tour, or “tower,”
as she was in the habit of pronounc
ing it, and had resolved to indulge
for a short time in the dissipations
of city life. On the day in question
Mr. H. had gone down to attend to
a little business affair, and his bet
ter-half finding time heavy on her
hands, resolved to take a stroll on
Broadway, and do some shopping
without buying anything, as she had
been told that was “quite the thing.”
She rambled along, certain she
was being gazed at, and that her ap
pearance cailed-fortli the admiration
of all who noticed her, with all the
elasticity of youth.
“Now who’d think I was born and
bred in the country!” she soliloquized
^Nobody, I’m siue. How evious all
all the gals in Winfield would be
if they could but see me now ! Why
I’m a walking picture.”
“I wonder what that ’ere man
me for? Guess he wants to flirt. Ne,
I won’t flirt, though it’s a great temp
tation when such a handsome man
casts admirin’ glrnces at you, and if
Burt should happen to be cornin’ this
way and ketch me, he’d be jealous
and take me right back to Winfield.
“Now, that won’t do, old gal,” he
said. “You can’t play that country
game on me. I’m too old a hand at
the biz for that. I see it plainly
sticking out from under your dress,
so you had better come quietly along
to headquarters, and make no fuss.”
“How dare you call me old gal!”
cried Mrs. Jerusha, indignantly. See
what stickin’ out from under my
dress ? Ain’t you ashamed to talk
to a lady in that manner ? I’ll screech
if you come near me, you wretch !”
“I tell you,” the man reiterated,
I guess I’ll go in this ’ere store and
and price some goods.”
Accordingly she forthwith entered
a drygoods palace, made the clerks
show her various articles, and finish
ed by purchasing a skein of silk.
“I swow tew gracious! there’s that
lovely man and he’s been a waitin’
for me to come out of the store.
Guess I’ve infatuated him,” she con
cluded, with an air of conscious
pride.
“ You’re takin’ liberties, sir. You’re
mistaken iu the purson,” she said,
sharply, as the man that attracted
her attention spoke to her.
“you can’t play that dodge on me ;
so come along.”
Mrs. Jerusha Holcomb cried, and
yelled, and struggled, but without
avail, for he caught her by the arm
and hurried her along through the
streets till they came to a station-
house, into which her captor drag
ged her, and Mrs. Jurusha fouffd her
self in the presence of the presiding
official clad in blue cloth with brass
buttons.
“What have you got there, Smith?”
the official asked.
“She’s been ‘lifting’ goods, and
she’s been trying to play the country
dodge on me, but it was no go.”
“Well, taka her inside, Smith, and
let the women search her,” the offi
cial responded.
“I won’t go inside and bp search
ed,” shrieked Mrs. Jenn^a,’ “and
i don’t you dare to put yonr profane
j hands on me neither, or I’ll scratch
| yonr eyes, out, you wretch.”
“Just take that shawl from out of
your bustle, then, and stop your gab
for you’re caught, and don’t make a
rumpus. You won’t? Then I’ll do
it for yon,” said the detective, for
such was the man’s profession.
“Let go of me, you nasty man!”
cried Mrs. Jerusha, as he placed his'
hands upon her. “How dare yon be
so indelicate, yon wretch! I’ll have
my Burt give you a good lickin’ for
this, see if I don’t! Give me back my
lace shawl, you horrid villian!” And
thus Mrs. Jerusha went on, when he
had taken the shawl from its hiding
place.
“She plays off nicely, dosen’t she,
Smith? Those bustles are handy
things,” said the official.
“I have never seen her before,”
Smith replied. “Somewheres from
out of town, I suppose. She’s a first-
class gonof at any rate.”
“O, you blackguards! you wretch
es ! I am no gonof; I am an innocent,
gnileless young bride,” she shrieked.
“Indeed! A healthy looking young
bride, to be sure,” said the official,
bursting into a fit of laGghter.
“But Smith, she’s got something
hidden in her waterfall. I see gold
sparkling among the rats and mice.
“Come take off that waterfall,” said
Smith.
“It’s all my own hair, and it won’t
come off,” Mrs. Jurusha cried, “O, I
shall die under this horrible treat
ment. O, My dear Burt, why are
you not hare to protect me from
these wretches. Ah, don’t tear my
scalp off!” she shrieked, as the de
tective, with one jerk, pulled the
waterfall from her head.
“She’s got a whole jewelry store
in here,” said Sfaith, as he drew
from the middle of the mass of hail’
sundry articles of jewelry.
“O! O! O! I was never so han
dled in all of my bom days, I’ll nev
er come to this horrid city again.
That Jerushy Holcomb should be
treated in this manner. O,jit’s terri
ble.” And the poor, tried feelings
of Mrs. Jerushy gave way, and she
burst into tears.
“Now, Smith,” said the official,
thoughtfully, “I’ve been thinking
within the last couple of minutes
that, j^vu’ve made a mistake this time.
She’d- have acknowledged it if she
was a professional, it seems to me,
and confessed her thieving.”
“I don’t think so, Cap, but you
can question her, and find out.”
“What’s your name, and where do
yon come from?” the official asked.
“Jerushy Holcomb, and I live in
Winfield; and when I get back there
I will never leave it again,” she re
plied, with her eyes full of tears.
“Are you a thief ?” he again asked.
She was all indignation now, and
almost sprang over the railing that
separated her from him, in her ex
citement.
“A thief! Jerushy Holcomb a thief?
I never told a told a lie in my life,
much more being a thief. O! O! O!”
and again she began to weep.
id 1
By degrees they managed to get
the information from her that she
was stopping, with her husband, at
the Stilwell House, and the official
immediately sent a policeman to the
hotel, to see if she was telling the
truth.
“I think I have made a mistake,”
said Smith, when the messenger had
gone on his errand. “I say, Mrs.
what did you put those things in
in such queer places for ?”
“I was afraid hotel thieves would
steal ’em, so I put them where I
thought they would be safe,” she re
plied, more calmly than before, the
detective having explained to her
that he had taken her for a “suop-
lifter.”
Mr. Burt Holcomb soon arrived,
and convinced the official beyond
doubt that she was his wife, and that
she was ann'oeent country lady.
Mrs. Jerusha wept h
ysterically
upon her husband’s breast as she
told the story of her woes and the
insults she had been subjected to,
and when she was sufficiently calm,
together they left for their hotel.
Mrs. Jerusha Holcomb, with her
husband, left for Winfield the next
morning, thoroughly disgusted with
New York city; and her adventure
made her a wiser, if not a sadder,
woman.
A sailor, explaining a quadrille to
his messmate, thus described the
third figure:
“You first heave ahead,” said he,
“and pass your adversary’s yard-arm
regain your berth on the other track
in the same order, take yonr station
with your partner in line, back and
fill, and then fall on your knee, and
bring up with your partner; she then
manceuvers ahead, off alongside of
yon; then make sail in company with
her, until nearly astern of the other
line, make a stern-board, cast her off
to go for herself, regain yonr place
the best way you can, and let go
yonr anchor.
A minister walked six miles ttf
marry a couple lately. He said he
felt sort of fee-bill lie. The groom
saw it.
From the Albany Express, Janaary 19.
A Shockiug Accident.
Mr. Charles F. Southgate, a young
gentleman of wealth and position in
Saratoga, and one of the proprietors
of Congress Hall, left New York on
the Montreal express Friday even-
ning for Albany on his way home.
When nearing this city he arose
from his sleeping berth and procee
ding, it is believed, to the rear end
of the train, he opened the door,
when a sudden lurch of the cars
caused him to lose his balance, and
he fell from the platform on to the
hard frozen snow, striking on his
head and face, tearing away the scalp
and cutting sickening wounds in his
cheek and forehead. This must have
occurred at a few minutes to 6 on
Saturday morning, for the tran is
due in this city at 6 a. m. It was dark
at the time and mose intensely cold,
the thermometer having dropped be
low zero dnring the night, while the
wind blew pitilessly from the river.
The point at which Mr. Sonthgate
fell from the train is a bleak and des
olate spot, nearly four miles below
Greenbush; no house within a mile
and a half of it, and the land bleak
and inarsliy. Imagination may form
a faint picture of the straggle for
life which ensued when we say that
the half-dead man dragged himself
to the nearest habitation and plead
ed for succor.
TERRIBLE STRUGGLE FOB LIFE.
The dreadful fall must have ren
dered him insensible, bnt the intense
cold reviving him, he arose and stag
gered away. His scalp dropping
over his eyes, he was compelled to
put it back and hold it upon the head,
while the blood from his wonnds
formed icicles as it oozed from him.
In this way, for about a mile and a
quarter, he had to walk or totter
along the track until the nearest
honse was reached. It was an aw
ful journey, and the" marks of blood
upon the way tell of the fight for life.
Here and there could be seen places
where the poor fellow had become
dazed, and floundered about in the
snow on his hands and knees in all
directions, and then np again to con
tinue the struggle once more. Only
the veriest pluck, aided by a kind
Providence, could have saved him,
for had a train been nnming in cith
er direction, a speedy but terrible
death would have followed. How
ever, the Saratogian made his way
to the house of Mr. Campbell, and
there, with the very last remnant of
his strength, he beat at the door and
then fell, faint almost unto death, on
the honest farmer’s threshold. “It
was a sickening sight to see that
poor bleeding human form lying
there,” said the farmer ; but speedi
ly he was taken in and cared for, and
when he recovered sufficiently to gasp
his name and the accident, the fami
ly thought it best that he be care
fully removed to the nearest hospital,
and so he was brought to Albany.
He was a sorry sight, indeed. The
right hand, which hadheld the scalp,
was frozen stiff, and it will be lost to
its owner; the nose was broken, the
cheeks cut and the forehead scarred,
that if Mr. Southgate’s life be
tnga .
spared he will be wofully disfigured.
A certain college Professor had as
sembled his class at the commenc-
ment of the term, and was reading
over the list of the names to see that
all were present. It chanced that one
of the number was unknown to the
professor, having just entered the
class.
“What is your name, sir?” asked
the Professor, looking through his
spectacles.
“You are a brick,” Was the start
ling reply.
“Sir,” said the Professor, half start
ing out of his chair at the supposed
impertinence, but not quite sure that
he had understood him correctly:
“Sir, I did not exactly understand
your answer.”
“You are a brick,” was again the
composed reply.
“This is intolerable,” said the Pro
fessor, his face reddening. “Beware,
young man, how you attempt to in
sult me.”
“Insult you!” said the student, in
torn astonished. “How have I done
it?”
“Did you not say I was a brick?”
returned the Professor, with stifled
Sawdust fob the Feet.—Ii was
not until a Bridgeport woman read
the recipe in Saif a dozen different pa
pers that she concluded to give it a
trial. We refer to the recipe which
says that “a table-spoonful of saw
dust placed in each bout will keep the
Lot both dry and warm.” The hus
band of this Bridgeport woman was
always complaining about cold feat,
and so the other morning she poured
two table-spoonful.- of saw-dust into
his boots. The result rather surprised
her. He slipped on his boots, ait bia
breakfast and started for his place of
business. lie had not goue tweuty-
five yards from* the house before be
retraced bis steps nd commenced to
orate on profane history. As soon as
he got into the dining ro*m he assisted
obe boot off with the toe of the other,
and kicked it against a ten dollar rnir
tor, while its mate struck his seven
year old son on the head and made him
yell lustily, liis wife, seeing that some
thing ailed her husband, asked: 'What
is the matter, dear?’ He said some
thing sounded like “Jam it!” gather
ed up his boots, and emptying out
the saw dust, replaced them on hia
feet, and shot out of the house, with
his feel warm clear up to the roots of
the hair on his head. His wife thinks
maybe she used the wrong kind of
sawdust.
Is There any Mother Thebe?—
A little girl once followed the work
man from her father’s ground when
they went home to their dinner, be
cause she was very fond of a kind
old man who was one of them. When
he looked from his door, he* saw her
sitting on a log waiting for him, and
invited her to go into the cottage.
She looked in, saw the strange faces
round the table, and hesitated. When
he urged her, she raised her sweet
little face, and inquired.
“Is there any mother there?”
“Yes, my dear, there is a mother in
here, he answered.
“Oh! then I’ll go in; for I’m not
afraid if there’s a mother there!”
Her child’s experience had told
her she coaid place confidence in a
mother’s sympathy. A house may
be small and mean, bnt if it is the
shrine of a mother’s love, it is a hap
pier place than a palace would be
witboat this blessed presence.
The Learned Blacksmith.—I n
his autobiography in “Ten Minute
Talk,” Elihu Burritt tells how he
studied mathematics. He couldn’t
afford to attend school, so he used
to do certain problems “in his head”
while hammering on his anvil. Here
is one of them. “How many yards
of cloth, three feet in width, cut in
to strips an inch wide, and allowing
half an inch at each end for the lap,
would it require to reach from the
centre of the sun to the centre of the
earth, and how mnch would it cost at
a shilling a yard ?” He would not
allow himself to make a single figure
with chalk or charcoal in working
out tnis problem, and he would car
ry home to his brother all the multi
plications in his head, and give them
off to him and his assistant, who took
them down on their slates, and veri
fied and proved each seperate calcu
lation, and found the final result to
be correct.
indignation.
“No, Si
Sir. Yon asked my name, and
I answered your question. My name
is U. B. A. Brick—Uriah Reynold
Anderson Brick.”
“Ah, indeed!” murmured the Pro
fessor, sinking back in his seat in con
fusion: “It was a misconception on
my part. You will commence your
lesson, Mr. ahem, ahem—Brick?”
During a visit of some young men
to a young lady, the other evening,
cameintoTheroom, and knock the stuffingoqt of him,
ing the young gentlemen, said: “I
bet I can do something that yon can’t
One of them imprudently asked him
what it was.—He said, “I can kiss
my sister and you can’t In nine cas
es ont of ten it is fatal to inclnde lit
tle boys in conversation with their
older MwtfwriL
A story has been told of a grace
less scamp who gained access to the
Clarendon printing office in Oxford,
England, where the forms of a new
edition of the .Episcopal Prayer
Book had jnst been made up and
were ready for the press. In that
part of the “form” containing the
marriage service, he substituted the
letter k for the letter v in the word
live, and thus vow “to loVe, honor,
comfort, etc., so long as ye both shall
live,” was made to read “so long as
ye both shall like.” The change was
not discovered till the whole edition
was printed off. If the sheets thus
rendered useless in England be still
preserved, it would be a good specu
lation to have them neatly bound and
forwarded to Indiana, Connecticut
and Chicago.
A German peddler sold a man ft
liquid for the extermination of bugs.
“And bow do yon use it?" inquired
the man, after be bad bought it.
Ketch te bug, un drop von Httledrop
into his mout,” answered the ped
dler. “The dence you do!” ex
claimed the purchaser; “I could kill
it in half the time by stamping on
it.” ‘Yell,’ calmly . exclaimed the
German, “dat is a good vay, too.”
A good mother was
plain to a young bop
lying to ex-
1, the other
day, about fighting agianstthe devil.
After *
telling the little fellow who the
devil was, and how hard he was to
successfully resist, he turned around
and said: “Mamma, I’d be scared of
the old devil; but if I was to oome
across one of the little devils* I’d
The difference between a country
and a city greenhorn is, that one
would like to know everything, and
the other thinks he can tellhim.
and * keep
“Fear God
mandmenta; for this
duly of man.
his com-
the whole
a i:l
M
... . .