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TIIB FISH-BALL.
■r *. n. WUTiKITTEIOK.
I-et’posU sing
Ths chloken wing,
And berikwheat cakes and griddle flih**|
And aide by aide
Mace lobslar tried,
Tork cliopa and other comlo dUbss;
And yet unto my dytyg day,
While »>rniy reaeon I am lord.
I'll etand before, the world and Bay 1
"The fiih-bel>. j a u« own reward I ”
I’m fond of ham
And orlmaon Jam,
And macaroni crowned with baron;
Yet, whlla I aigh
For enko and pie,
Aly faltli In claioa remains nnehakon;
But whan my fancy’e running wild.
And I’m by no gay lark outaoared,
I preach to woman, man and child:
"The flah-Uali le It* own reward 1”
Oh 1 gay marine,
You’re often aeon
It Ailed up agelnat a door or shutter \
The little boy
JustJuuVpB with Joy
To aco you Rental with milk and bntler.
Oh! dwelt i far boyond the aea.
By fifty thousand glrla adored,
The o-.otto of my aoul would be:
” The flab-ball la 11a own reward l n
Oh, noble cod 1
0 you I nod;
30 aad and medl-tatlve;
When toned with wine
You're quite divine
Unto the ManHachiurttte native,
Oh I when I’m old and bent end gray.
With wholeaomu morale richly etered,
I’ll boldly face the world and aay:
"The flab hall la lta own reward I”
THE BUTLER HERALD.
w. N. BENNS, JAMES D. RUSS. Editor,
“ Lkt r l’ 11 i'jitil mo T-.iciiJ r r."
Subscription. $1.50 in Advance.
VOLUME V.
BUTLER, GEORGIA, TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 20. 1881.
NUMBER 51.
Yon make
A 8TRANUI& STORY,
I a strange, almost incredible,
«t° r .y to toll of L nu experience of my own
o’ao fenrf»’ t l night in the wootla. Im
agination had nothing to do with it, for
X lam a back wood's daughter, accus
tomed to tho wild sounds of tho foroat,
tho loneliness, and all that is terrifying
to a novice.
My father was a good man, serving
God alter bis own simple fashion, seeing
Him and loving'Him in His works,
have beard liim hold forth on tho provi-
dent ways of {he beaver. " Why 1 the
littlo crititer’d starve in tho cold season
If it hadn’t used its little flat tail fof
buildin’ its house, and then fillin’ it with
(food in time 1” I havo heard him tell ol
ithe carribou: “ Look at that, too,” he
would say, “ and at the moose. Now,
the caribou has to travel often a matter
of twenty miles for liis dinner, for lie’
dainty ’un, and only eats tho long gray
moss that hangs from tho trees ; so God
gave him snow-shoes, good as an Injun
could make ’em, to skim over tho ice
emst—while the big, heavy mooso there
sinks right in. His dinner is close al
hand. He could live fop months
aero lot.” He oqh1<1 speak the loon, and
its adaptation in every way te its watery
homo—always ending such talk with :
“All Ood’s works are ’pon honor;
thorVs no half-way with Him.”
i was the only one left of ten children,
*kly father, when mourning ovor and
missing the others, would never oom-
plain but only say, “ They’re better off.
Why, if wo can’t trust the littlo cltil-
dren that don’t know the meaning of sin,
there ain’t any chance for the men l 1
And so he Jived his quiet life—his heart
beating close to nature’s heart, and his
soul unconsciously seeking and finding
nature’s God.
My mother must have been beautiful
in her youth. Bho was a lorcttc Catia-
dienne, and her bright French spirits
carried her gayly ovor many bold trials
in her life of frequent deprivation. One
great, overshadowing sorrow of her lifo
was tho unaccountable disapponmn
her little year-old daughter, her only
l>eautifnl child—the one in her own im
age, whom from the first she loved with
a peculiar tendornoss.
Tho child hod boon left alone in he
llttlq birch-bark crib for a short half
hovir, while mother was busy at the
spring, a mile from home, in the midst
a. of the woods. I, a little 6-year-old, was
olT in the osnoe with my father, as
treot for having been especially good
the day beforo. Father and I bad
splendid time—wo always did when wo
were away together—and, our canoo full
of trout, wo were coming gayly home
toward evening, whon a cold oliill fell
on our happiness, and my child’s heart
felt n strange thrill as I read a sndden
anxiety in my father’s face, whose every
change I know. His quick ear bad
caught the sound of mother’s voice, and,
after a while, I, too, could hear a hopo-
less moan, a dreadful, hoart-broken
sound. We found mother kneoling on
the floor, lier kand leaning on tho empty
crib, and moaning as one that could not
be comforted. The baby was gone.
How or where we could not tell—we
never knew. Weeks were spent in
scorching for her, aud at length, to save
mother’s reason, father foroed her to
leavo the pretty log cabin in the woods
by tho lnke, where this last sorrow had
come upon her, and wo went to Mon
treal.
There we lived quietly for years dur
ing the winter time. The nuns of the
great Convent of tho Gray Bisters took
charge of my education. Mother aud
I had neut little rooms in the French
quarter, while father went off moose-
hunting for weary .months; but the
of tho log cabin doserted after the baby’s
loss, until tho summer of my 19th year.
Thcu a great desire took possession of
my mother to go onoo moro to tho old
home. She had been very delicate that
winter, and my great, rough father de
nied her nothing. I shudder when I
think of that beautiful, direful plaoe
now—it seems as though our evil fate
hovered about it. All tho anguish I over
knew centers there
We passed one peaceful month to
gether, disturbed only by distant ru
mors of diphtheria, a scourge which
seemed to bo striding from village to
village, first on tho river, then nearer
us on tlio great lako; but we never
thought of its touching us, ’^til one
miserable night, whoa father came
home, languid and foverish, from one
of hia nnmovotts expeditions, and w^
load in 1ub face that tho gliastiy finger
of the Bcourgo had set its mark upon
him. After tho second day of anxiety
about father all strength seemed to foil
my delicate little mother. From the
first she had despaired about him, and
now I saw that, if fatkor’s life were
taken, 1 should havo to part with them
both.
Her life would die with his. for sorrow
forges stronger bonds even than joy, and
they had suffured so much together, his
love always supporting her, that he had
imo life of her life. She could not
oxist. alone.
I struggled hand to hand, and sick at
heart against what I felt to be an in
exorable fate, nnd. on the afternoon of.
.ghth day, I found myself alone and
almost despairing, save for the hnppi-
of tho two I liud loved best in the
world.
The sunset came, as I sat by the lake
side, flooding my desolated world with a
heavenly glory, like n sign from them to
mo of their new-found joy.
Tho stars had oome ont, before I ven
tured to return to the worse than deserted
house. I could not hope for help from
vny neighbor until I sought it out myself
the next day, and I bad to look forward
at my heart and weariness of body> sttd 1 -
denly I felt the gloom ot eyes watching
me. Such strange oyes! No human
expression about thorn; a stealthy look
in them now. Gently an t could I ap
proached her side. Bho trembled and
tried to hide her head when I offered
her my carefully-prepared food, t moved
away and studiously avoided any ap
pearance o? watching her. Tet I was
intensely conscious of lier every move*
ment. I could boo her eying, with a
wretched* famished look, a raw venison
steak that had been forgotten and lay
on the table close bosido her. Stealthi
ly, like a beast of prey, her feeble hand
stole toward it, and in a moment she
had torn it in pieces and devoured it.
Horror filled my heart-. Could this
oreature bo human ? I sat still in the
corner, whore, myself unseen, I could
watch and restrain her if nocossary, and
soon—weakness overcoming hor after
this last effort—she lay tossing in un
easy sleep.
Oh I I was so weary and so very
ouoly I The dreadful night was almost
at an end. I went to her side, threw
myself on the bed besido hor, aud put
my arms about hor neck. Again her
wonderful eyes opened full iu my face,
I fixed them with my own. I caressed
hor, culled her by tho endearing names
of old. I besought her to be geutlo and
to love mo. I told her sho was my own,
tho only creature left for me to love and
care for I One short second it seemed
as if a soul looked out of her glorious,
doer eyes, then, with a groan as if she
gavo the strugglo ovor, and with that
low, fearful growl again, she fastened
her white teeth in my hand.
Shrieking with pain, I fainted. When
I came to myself, dawn was struggling
in at tho window; leaf-shadows flickered
on the floor. Fearful pain iu my hand
roused me at length, and a consuming
thirst drove me into tho woods toward
the spring to allay it.
I struggled through the underbrush,
and there, close to tho water, discerned
confused mass. There lay my poor
to anight, how horrible. I did not fore- , llltori dMd> her hoed pillowed
or I could not have endured it.
wild cat of the woods, shot by tho same
Whet followed I could .eurcely credit lmndj ptob- , lyi th»t lied wouuded her
myself, if I did not bear on my hand a
tangible proof in a well-defined scar;
and, even now, I could' not bear to write
of that night’s experience, hod not my
children’s laughter, and my loving hus
band’s care long since banished all un
natural gloom from my lifo.
While I bad been sitting alone on tho
lako shore, toward tho ovening, I lmd
heard a distant shot; it scarcely ronsod
A sportsman, I thought, had wan
dered from bis encampment on tho op
posite sboro, and Boon somo game in our
wildwoods, killed it, aud his canon had
long since carried him away. In the
gathering darkness I groped my way
back through tUo familiar littlo path,
and reached my own door. I alone
should pass tho throHhold in the fnturo ;
their feet were still; the busy feet that
had toiled for me, followed me, nnd had
boon ever near mo I I was to go on my
Tugged path alone 1 Heartsick and over
come, I stoppod at the door, aud, lean
ing my head ngainst it, sobbed in un
controllable despair. Tired out at length,
I had grown quiet, and was abont to lift
tho latch, when a faint moan, as of an
animal in pain, aud close to mo, startled
me ; then a dentli-liko silence reigned.
I know I had been mistaken. I felt
that I must forget myself and kolp the
poor creature in distress. “It is very
good for strength to know that some one
needs you to bo strong." No longer
hesitating I hurried into the little cabin,
stmek a light and wont in the direction
whence the moan bad renohed my cars.
I thought of the shot I had heard. It
was quite possible a poor wounded deer
was lying in tho bushes. Yes, I could
now see its skin—unmistakably a fawn
—spotted dun color. It lay quite still—
perhaps that moan had been its dying
gasp—and so I came quite close to it,
leaned over, and, paralyzed with horror,
saw my mother’s face, only young and
very beautiful, as she muHt have looked
when a girl. Deathly pale, possibly,
8 ho lay—matted hair all about her face,
and clothed in (loo-skin. Just then nho
stirred; it was not death. All wonder
ceased within me, every feeling fled bo-
fore the thought that this being what
ever, whoever she was, might bo saved
to life. •
I dragged her the few steps into the
house, laid her on my homlock boughs,
untouched by me since the siokness vis
ited us. Then I found a wound in ths
poor croatnro’s Hide and bound it up,
bathed her howl, and, in the quiet, now
again I felt startled at seeing my moth
er’s image, young nnd fuir, before me,
and, when * at length her great eyes
opened, I felt it must l»e that sister lost
to me till now, and nont back in this sad
hour to take my mother’s place. 1
leaned forward, in nx^c***? of tender
ness, to welcome her, when a look of
fright, an animal-like wild terror, took
1 possession of her face, and a low sort of
I R narl broke from her human lips.
. The start she gavo caused a fresh flow
i of blood; dimness passed over her eyes.
Again I stanched tho wound and pre-
fatally.
OtJR JUVENILES,
/ ITitth I ir<t* a Grown-Up,
Oh, I wish I was a groWn-tip,
And nobody could aay,
" Mo, no, you can’t do ao-aiid-ao,”
Or, "If you're good, you may."
If grown-upa waited to b* good
Hcfora they had their fun,
A great deal that la going on,
I gueaa, would not be done.
Oh, I wlah I waa a grown-up,
Then I’d play with beggar boy*,
And apend a hundred dollars
For nothing else but toya.
I’d giro tho fellowa all a boat,
a knife and kite and ball;
I'd alt up late, and sometime*
Wouldn’t go to bed at all
Oh, Te
I'd w
Wllh 1<
l»h I e
ear my y
y beat,
n-np,
;old chain a-dangllng
Across my stiff white vest;
Wllh big top-boots so heavy
I could wado out anywhere |
With a gold watch ln my pocket,
And a cloao shave on my hair.
Oh, I
■-up,
Mini mar time wo always spent with him. | pared nourishment in case she waked.
Hh would choose lovely spots for our Too busied iu those ways for further
tumineT encampments, never on the »-tt«- speculation, only with a steange weight
TELLING TRUTHS.
It, is voiy important, said Coleridge,
that truth should bo put into its proba
ble shape in order that it may bo be
lieved. I am often accused of boing a
Quaker, because I seldom givo a direct
answer to sundry questions; but that
arises from the incomplete manner
which they arc put to mo. I am also
somotimes charged with exaggerating
facts; but my accusers seem to be ig
norant that truth is like an actor on the
stage, who requires a littlo rouge to
make him look natural by gaslight
The same rule applies to everything,
said tho deor old sophist. If you aim at
a target yon have to calculate the dis
tance and elevate your arrow to a cer
tain angle, otherwise it falls below the
mark. In like manner an orator, who
wishes to convinco, must color his re
cital to tho capacity of his hearers. An
intelligent preacher should, therefore,
accommodate his discourse to his con
gregation, else ho disgusts instead of
convinces. When Whiteflold told a
fashionable congregation, in one of bis
sermons, that there were infants in hell
not a span long, they shuddered and
believed. Atoll events, they received
the horrible announcement in silence.
But when be preached the same doctrine
to tho begrimed oolliorB of Newcastle,
their human nature rose against it, and
they pelted him out of town with coals.
And yet it is evident tho thing was as
true one day as another.
LACK OF AIK.
Borne workmen think themselves
“tired” when they are only poisoned.
They labor in factories, breathe air with
out oxygen, and live in an atmosphere
of death. They are, too often, allowed
to smoke, and thus add fuel to tho flame
which is consuming them. They knock
off work “ tired ” and listless, when they
are merely weakened by foul air, and
mode dull and heavy by an ntmosphera
charged with disease. They keep the
windows shut and close the door on
health, while they lift tho gratings of
tint tomb by breathing and rebreathing
tho jtoison from their own lungs, and
tho floating particles of matter about
thorn. Open tho windows, let in the
sunshine and tho breeze, stop smoking,
and you will soon find that it is tho
poison of confinement, and not labor,
that wearies and tires.—Montreal Her
ald and Star.
A lady in Auitim uni her colored
servant, Matildy, to the grocery store to
get a loaf of bread for breakfast. Matildy
got bock pretty soon with the bread,
and as the lady of the house took it sho
remarked : “ This is nioe, fresh bread.
It is warm yet from the oven.” “ Dat
ain’t what makes it hot,” interrupted
Matildy. “ What does make it warm ? ’»
“ I put do bread under my arm and ran
• the whole way from do.bakery. Dat’s
wlmt wormed it up so.” The broad got
cool before the lady did when she hesrd
this explanation.
A* tall aa my papa,
I'd have a platol aud a cane.
Atid marry Maggie Carr.
I'd have a party every night—
How Jolly it would H-atuI
I'd havo a houae of citron caka
Aud a lawn of lemon cream.
I'd hnva a at tinning yacht,
And eat at the flrat table.
Whlla (he heefateak waa hot;
I'd go right In the parlor,
No matter who waa there;
I’d have a ap.ui of hor**#,
And keep a dancing bear.
But, then, I ain’t a grown-up.
The King and the Page.
A pleasant story is told of the old j
King Frederick tho Great of Prussia,
Once whon ho rang his bell for his page
to como and wait on him, there wos no
answer. Ho rang again, and still there
was no answer. So ho went out into
the ante-chamber, and there he found
his page fast asleep. The stop of the
King docs not awaken him, so soundly is
he asleep. A letter sticking out of tho
boy’s pocket catches the King’s eye, and
ho is curious enough to take it out aud
read it. Not any more honorable that
for a King than any ono else.
But the boy bad no roason to bo nfraiiT
or ashamed of the King’s ourioeity, for
it was a letter from his poor mother,
tlionking him for sending her bis
wages, aud praying God to reward his
kindnoss aud attention. After reading
it the King wout softly back to his
chamber, took a bag of money, and with
tho letter slipped it into the pocket of I
the boy.
Again going to his chamber ho rang
the bell loud enough to arouso tho sleep
er, who immediately answered its sum
mons.
“You have been fast asleep,’’ said the
King.
Frightened and confused, the poor tyoy
put liis Hand iuto his pocket, and what
to find but a bag of money ? Ho took it
out, aud, looking up to tlie King, burst
into tears.
“What is the matter?” asked tho
^ Ah, sire,” cried tho poor follow,
throwing himself on bis knees before
Frederick, “ somebody is trying to ruin
me. I know nothing about this money
which I havo just found in my pocket.”
“My young friend,” said tho King,
“ God takes different ways of hoi ping
us. Send tho rnoucy to your mother.
Snluto her from mo, and tell her I will
take good care of both hor nnd you.”—
Christian Weekly.
Eugenio Mauricio Dengremont.
I wish that all tho children ill the
world might got. together somo beautiful
June day, and then there certainly could
be nothing more charming for them than
that they should all lie still for a while,
and listen to the wonderful violin-play-
iiig rf Eugenio Mauricio DeugremouL
the child-artist.
Let inc tell you what T know of him:
He was horn March 19, 1800, at Bio
Janeiro, Brazil. liis father, having
other hoys, as well os girls, and being a
musician iu moderate circumstances, lmd
no idea of making musicians of his chil
dren, and (lid not dream that tho son
born to him this day was ao gifted. But,
at the age rtf 4, Mauricio asked his papa
to tench him to play tho violin. Thu.
his father did not feel inclined to do.
He was himself a violin-player in the
theater orchestra, and felt the life of un
ordiuury musiciau an uncertain one and
not desirable for his sou; but the child
never gave up the idea of being a vio
linist, and would leave liis play at any
time to stand near liis father and eagerly
watch his practice.
At last, in 1872, when tho boy was B
years old, his father removed to Monte
video, where he played again in the
theater orchestra, whither the hoy usual
ly accompanied him. Here Mauricio
begged so earnestly to study tho violin
i that his father, taking him at his word,
: decided to gratify him, nnd said:
j “ Well, my hoy, if you begin to study
i the violin, you will have to carry the
j hiisinoHB through.”
) “ T shall do so, Papa,” said the hoy ;
■ and his lessons began.
He was so small! and so mnnh in
earnest t and his father spent hours
bending over tho tiny figure, and guid
ing tho hoy's little arm in the bowing.
And now take notice, all boys and girls
who “ would so ranch love to play well,
but can’t bear to practice.” Great ns
this child’s natural gifts are, he, at first,
practiced three and four hours faithfully
every day. To ho gifted, no doubt,
makes the work easier, hut a certain
amount of real drudgery must he dono
by one who succeeds in any art, no mat
ter how gifted ho may lie.
After four months’ study, Mauricio
could play tho soulcs—and in thirds, also
(quite difficult on the violin)—as well
and ns rapidly as his fa'ther; and, bo-
sidcs, ho played so remarkably that his
father discovered him to he really a
genius, oa liiH name indicated, and so ho
faithfully and strictly attended to tho
hoy’s teaching.
After fourteen mouths’ study, the
father decided to allow the boy to give
his first concert, hut fearing lest his son
might not have the self-control necessary
for a successful public performance, he
took him to a little town—Paysander-
up the river, to make trial.
The concert nt Paysander entirely
antislieti the father of the boy’s nerve
aud self-command, nnd, returning to
Montevideo, ho gave liis first concert
there to benefit tho unfortunate victims
of a railroad accident-. Here his play
ing created a great excitement, and,
after that, every appearance of his ir
public oonoerts was an ovation.
Sinoe this modest beginning in the
South American town, tho hoy has been
petted and flattered by all Europe, al
though ho was singularly unspoiled,
both son and father being of a generous
nature. But I like to think of him, in
; childish grace and beauty, beginning
liis musical career with this kindly deed.
He seems to mo capable ol doing such a
thing nobly.
After tho coucort nt Mpntevideo, nnd
a grand concert nt Bio Janeiro, he left
his brother.* and sisters, aud liis mother
—whoso personal beauty he inherits—
anil went with his father to try his fort
une in tho Old World.
He first went, to Lisbon ; thence to
Madrid, where ho played before th v
King, and received no end of honors
and decorations; and from tlie.ro to
Paris, where he gavo ton concerts.
Think of ib—scarcely 10 yours old
From this time—1870-ho lmd privei-
Icxhoi.h from laniard, in Paris. These
le.wsons hardly .would have occupied mote
than a year, if given without a break,
lint they extended over n longer period,
during which ho tmvelod over all In-
r.,pe, excepting Russia and’ Itul.v.
Everywhere let met with great success.
Bui lt is a meager history *»* " 0, >-
derfnl hoy’* child-life—enough, how-
(ver, lo livens hop.: of a glorious man
hood for him, for Mauricio is not an mi-
jiatundly-priHJocious child—a forced hoi •
house blossom—but a healthy, fun-
loving, boyish hoy, with buoyant ani
mal spirit, anil iw ready for wholet-ome
fun as for earnest study; nnd, witlml,
certainly much more of a child than tho
hoy of his v'go.
i his face is quiet, the
•bin, and his how in
again something strangely
_ _ truo musical genius.— St
Nicholas.
tiik use of wealth.
Thero ore thousands of rich men who
are not skinflints, who havo tlio reputa
tion of being so, because they lmvo nev
er been known to have done any special
good with their nionoy. A man who is
worth $50,000 can do more to ntako him
self loved anil respeoted by all with
whom he comes in contact by tho judi
cious expenditure of $1,000 in charity
than by giving the whole $50,000 after
ho is (lead. It scorns as though it would
ho mighty small consolation to a million-
giro to loavo money to somo charitable
purposo after death, and ho 60 confound
ed dead that he couldn’t see tlio smiles
of happiness that his generosity hud
Suppose a millionaire who has never
had n kind word said of him except by
fawning hypoorites, who hope to got
some of his uiouey, should lay cut a
beautiful park, worth $1,000,000, and
throw it open free to all, with walks,
drives, lakes, shade and everything.
BUppOS*
OES. HA RTHUFF'S STORIES.
“When I was a cadet,” said he, “ I
was one rainy day on sentinel duty, whon
Gen. Scott, who was visiting tho Point,
came by, wrapp'd in a great military
cloak and carrying ahuge umbrella. See
ing mo pacing up and down in the raip,
tho old gentlemau’s kind heart induced
liim to stop and soy to me, 1 Young gent
leman, yon will catch cold out
wet. Como under my umbrella, and
walk with mo up to headquarters, when
I will have you excused.’ I marched by
s side in fear nnd trembling, aud, to
y great relief, was not reprimanded by
e commandant.”
Again he told us: “ L waa once ordered
to the front to take part in a forward
ovcinent under Gen. Shields. Shields,
? it known, had unquestionably kissed
to blarney-stone. I arrived with my
■giiuent in the evening, and at once re
nted at the General’s tent. There were
number of Colonels sit ting and standing
about tho tent; and when I went in Gen.
Shields cam3 forward to moot mo, and,
putting his hand tip to his mouth,
whispered in my ear, * I’m glad to see
yon here,’ emphasizing tho you in a
complimentary manner. Presontlv all
ot her Colonel arrivod and came in. when
Shields stepped up to him aud wont
through the same motion. Then another
arrived with the same result. When
wo were all dismissed, with or
ders to report next morning at
daybreak, wo bid tho General good-night
nnd walked outside together. When wo
were out of car-sliot, said I, 'Gentlemen,
1 think I can toll each one of you what
Gen. Shields whispered to him.’ ‘Wlmt ?
wlmt "t asked they all ‘Why,’said I, ‘he
simply said, * I am glad to see you hero.’
Every Colonol bowed assent. Gen.
Shields had politely and politicly ad
dressed to each ono of us tho same grat
ifying formula, hut next day we fought
none tho worse for that, although an oc
casional smile would break out.”
Again ho said : * 4 1 was ono timo dis
cussing in Washington with Gen. Sheri
dan tho real value of brevet rank. I
argued that brevets should he limited to
n very few. Sheridan contested ®iut
they ought to \» generously bestowed 1
for meritorious mrviees. Wo were in
dulging in a glam of punch together. I
took tip Sheridan’s glass of rightly com
pounded punch and poured its oontente
into tho water-pile her. ‘There,’ T ex
claimed, ‘ I havo illustrated the value of
a liberal system of breveta. Drink your
punch I"'
PLEASANTRIES.
Thb English sparrow—“Have I driv-
t all tho other birds from this town ?
Well, I should twitter.”
Said tho General to tho Major, “What
is your rnnk, sir ? ” and tho Major re
plied, “I am a Major, General.”
Wnv mourn for Crimea—hia daughter* Uta;
On fMhlou’a afreet* wo And 'em.
And thejr wear “ Old arimoa’e oo*t,"
All buttoned down bohlud 'em.
“Something to eat?” Tramp-—
“Yes’m. But I don’t want no quail,
’cause it’s been awful hard with ’em thin
winter, and they have had to feed on all
sorts of pisen berries.”
A wise father to his son—“Now,
John, I do not object to your being a
fool and an idiot. Bo a fool and t n idiot
if you want to, hut what I do not wash
you to do is to let everybody know it.’*
A OHa-c*?«T at amp for * drculalre,
ipapelr*.
unp for t
to right o
e rlght-h it
To mefco things hot and cuaa and awalre.
“With neatness,” horemarkod, as he
shot down hill on a bob-sled, “ and dis
patch,” he gro&acd the next (lay, point
ing to a 16-cent strip of court-plaster on
liis nasal appendage and classical fore
head.
A touno lady nnd hor father were
looking at a druggist, who was very
nicely balancing tlio delicate little scales
on which tho prescription was being
weighed. “ How * precise 1 how fine I
how little 1” said tho girl. “ Yes,” said
the futher, “ hut he will not do so with
the bill.”
Ik th* aprlnj
Flirt*th tunc
But tho young
And, with m>
ptaya croquet;
toes not tumbt*,
try ri*w,
II* oonaldoi a that It’s cheaper •
To pay bo*nl for one than two.
“ Mr love for you is like that glow
ing fire,” said Adolphus, as he blinked
at tho burning anthracite and tjieu at
the object of his affections. “What a
grate full,” ftho murmured, and the'
spark got quite warm trying to think
how she spelled tho sentence.
In tho Senate Chamber at Washing
ton, the Chaplain offered the Lord’s
prayer. When ho had finished, Dool-
inoy leaned over to Josonby, and re
marked: “ Ho stole tliat prayer, and I’ll
bet a ' boodle ’ on it, for I heard ths
same idoas expressed in Eureka at a fu
neral over two years ago.”
A Dutchman iu Albany went ont to
liis milkman in the street with a dish in
each hand, instead of ono as usual. The
dispenser of attenuated milk asked him
if ho wished to fill both vessels? The
Dutchman replied, suiting tho notion to
tho word, “Dis is for do milluk, and ilia
for de water—and I will mix dem so as
to shuto mine self.”
“ Yus,” said tho witness, “I remem
ber the defendant ’s mother crying on tho
occasion reflet red to. She was weeping
with her left eye—the only onu she has
—and the tear were running down her
right check.” *’ What I” exclaimed tho
Judge, “ how could that bo ?” “ Please,
your Honor,” said the witfaoss, “she
was awfully cross-eyed.”
.vertigo Aineri
But, then, i
lotion, ho
It is doubtleB* pleasant for a man to
rend his own obituary, especially if it is
a first-class notice. Such cases have
happened, owing to tho man being re
ported dend when ho was living. B**uie
years ago a man listened to his own
funeral sermon. He lived in Boutlibury,
Ct., aud was known as an inveterate
joker. ‘' Old Sim, ” as ho was called, was
a stanch friend of Lorenzo Dow, a wan
dering preacher, noted for liis eccentrici
ties and popular eloquence.
Old Sim—his nnrno was Simeon Mitcli-
ell—determined to have a funeral, a
monument, and a sermon from Dow.
He made his arrangements, aud then
made believo die. Ho wjib laid out in
tho old style—a copper cent on each
eye, a handsome shroud aud a mahog
any coffin.
Tho mcoting-hotiso bell tolled aa tlio
procession solemnly marched to the
btrying-ground. The coffin was depos-
itfd by the sido of the newly-erected
tombstone, and Lorenzo Dow preachod
A THBtLT.iNQ exhibition of nerve was
furnished by a Cincinnati Iioubo-painter
some timo ago. Wo quolo from the
Commercial of that oity: Bernard
Koehler mid Fritz Ilisgen began paint
ing a largo house at Betts street and
Central avenue. Thrco o’clock in the
afternoon found them close up uuder the
eaves of the house, nnd sixty-five feet
from tho ground. They hail just fin
ished the surface within reach, and had
started to lower the scaffold a few feet,
. When tho required distune© had been
reached, Hisgon called to his partner to
hang on to the rope until lie (Hisgon)
tied his own, when ho would como over
and perform a liko scrvico for him,
Hisgon had just completed liis own knot,
when Koehler cried out: “Come over
quick; I can’t hold it.” Hisgen, as
quickly os possible, started across the
Rcrinl bridge, hut had not gono two step#
when ho saw tho nmn let go liis hold,
d felt tho ladder give way beneath hia
feot. As ho begun the fall, in the energy
sloh a funeral sermon as had novor b«n j °t •leaporaUoii ho, with both fond*,
heard before. It woe witty, pathetic, j u *° almoat-amooth top of the
uevoro and oomplimoutnry.
Old Sim, lying in his coffin, heard liis
kiraoter dissected by an unsparing
Don’t you suppose, if lie took a drive
through it himself and saw thousands of
people having a good time, aud all look
ing their love and reaped for him, that
Ins heart would he warmad op aud that
liis days would be lengthened? Wouldn't
every look of tlianka ho worth 81,000 to
tho man who hail ao much money that it
made him round-ahouldered 1 Wouldu’t
he have more pleasure than he Would in
cutting offjeoupoue with a lawn-mower?
Peck's Milwaukee Sun.
run difference.
Mio wanted to know the other doy 11
wo could tell tlio difference betwoon a
dromedary and the author of the “Gal
ley Slave." While we were computing
tlio multifnrioue differences there might
be he took shelter behind tho well-top
and shouted: “ Because one’a all oamel
and tho other's only Bartley Campbell."
— Vonkera ttaaetfe.
hooio helps ue to atrip off tho out
ward disguises of things, and to behold
I aud judge of them U their own nature.
fourth-story window eomieo nnd thero
hung iu tho air, a distance of sixty feet
from tho pavement. He then gave an
lir^^'were praisod and 'ilia I exhibition of nerve that h^ede
aulta severely denounced. The “mourn- I ono who saw it. Placing tho too of ono
laughed mid cried. Probably a boot against; the.window frame ha gave
mere truttriul sermon was never preached j Ha bodya aUght pendulum motion »wv
in taat old bnrying-ground. Whon Dow I Horn tho house. A second push gave
mul anishod?OM Bhn rose up, declared i a better impetus, and as he swung
himself satisfied, and ordered »U, | on the return toward the window he re-
.reseller and “mourner.,” to return to lsascd h.s l.o d and went eras mg
7 through tho glass safely to tlio floor
ritwre 'thoatreug. froak of an ceoon- »f the fourth-story room, from whence
trie man and of a more eccentric preach- immediately looked ont through the
, It just suited Dow, who was fond I 'H’orluro he had made to see what had
,f creating . senretion. It must, how '*°"»» »' ,ns eompamou Koehler had
ever, bo said, in justioe to the preacher's i nnt 1,0011 l l' llte 80 ™ lu ““ *■ 8 ', 0 f W !e
U80d his | shooting through tho air lm caught the
bunging ropo with Loth hands and less
ened his speed all tho way down at the
expenso of all tho cuticle of his palms,
which was burned off by the friction.
memory, that he, generally,
fsijnHfttions” thst tho people were ben-
(Ated by them.
• Th» question what degree of heat i*
noressary to destroy trichinre in swine’s
IWsh is of importance. A German ox-
pert suys that if the pieces put into a pot
to t oil ore large, trichinn in the middlo
ore not certain to he killed by such de-
greo of cooking as they are usually sub
jected to. As long as meat retains the
pink color known as “ rare ” it lias boon
iiivifficfently cooked to destroy tho par-
' QnLii/itw/ mid itieklinc tho men*
•Hites. I Smoking and pickling the ntea*
at?) of ho use whatever.
F» v *ll aays her minister’s
se'iuons a* “a Uttteobscure, but,” sho
•aft; “
liperc-ao* his face I
Wrtr should you never put a bib on a
child who has a poor appetite ? It will
he mini to go ugoifist his stomach.
Tie landed in :i -itting posture on the
sidewalk, aud was taken to tho hospital
with a pair of very soro hips.
A little 3-yoar-old buried herself on
Sunday in looking at the pictures in the^
Bible, nnd the one representing the
drowning of Pharaoh, liis horses and
chariots, captivated him to such an ex
tent that ho at race begun to play horde
with hi* sister. “Wny,” said his mother,
“Johnny shouldn’t play horns on Son- 1
day!’ “W 11 there’s a borsn in tbs
Bible,” was rite reply, and thst seemed
do love to sit and watch tho | ^ holt i 0 it. ^ _ __
The disgusted man who for the first
lusted oaviaru puckqrod his mouth
pronounced it to lk ^decomposed
t so weak that the noilidu’t
i i- i- holo through tho broad. ’