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About The Butler herald. (Butler, Ga.) 1875-1962 | View Entire Issue (April 28, 1885)
THE W, N. BENNS, Editor and Proprietor, VOLUME IX. ~ HERALD. “LET THEBE BE LIGHT.” Subscription, $1.50 in Advance. BUTLER, GEORGIA, TUESDAY, APKIL 28, 1885. NUMBER 26. HUSBAND AND WIFE. «lt’a the strangest thing that ever I knew, And the most provoking ’twixfc me and yon And a woman who’s got a man like me, A good provider, and steady and free With all her folks, with funds salted down. And as fine a house as any in town, To be lamenting ’cause one child in ten Ain’t quite as good as he might have been. ‘•tt’s a pretty good showing, it seems to mo That only a tentli of the lot should bo A little off color, and that’s what I say To their mother twenty times a day. But I can’t make her t ee it iu that light Am. she listens and waits uight after night For the sound of his step, till [ grow so wild Thai I almost curse both mother and child. “She ought to lire for the others, you know. And lot tho tormenting vagabond go. And follow his ways and lake the pain; Blit I turn him out and she calls him ag lin. This makes a hardness between her and mt», And the worst of it is, tho children agr«.c That I’m in the right. You’d pity her then; Such times I think I’m the meanest of men. “I've argued and scolded and coaxed without end; Her answer is always: ‘My boy lias one friend As long as I live, and your charge is untrue That my heart holds no equal love for you And all ilie rest. But the one gone astray Needs mo the most and you’ll find ’tis the way OF all mothers to hold close to the one Who hurts her the mo.»t. So love’s work io done.* “Now, what can I say t j such words as thoseV I’m not convinced, as the history shows, But 1 often wonder which one is right, As 1 hear her light step night after night, Here and there to the window and door, As she waits with a heart that is heavy and sore. I wish tho boy dead, while she gives hor lifo To save him from sin. There’s husband and wife.’’ Tom Slug. A STORY FOE YOUNG FOLKS, “This will never do, Tom,” said Mr. Benj imin Sing, as he read his son’s school-report for another term. “You must really rouse up, or you’ll never make a man of yourself.” Mr. Slug had got on in the world by acting on the motto, “Labor conquers everything,” and thus from an oilice-boy be bad risen to the head of the firm. Justly proud of his own success, and knowing its secret, he was very anxious his son should follow in his steps. To this end he had put him to the best schools, and given him every chance of a good eduoition. But the burden of every report was the same : “The lad has good natural abilities, and would make a splendid scholar had he applica tion”—a polite w r ay of saying that Tom was lazy. There was a picture in his bedroom of a field in a wilderness state of briers and thorns. Part of it had been originally inclosed as a vineyard, but it was now covered with nettles, and the vines were overrun with foxes, finding ready en trance by the ruined wall. In one cor ner of the viueyard was a iodge, the latticed window showing the drowsy keeper within murmuring now and again; as he turned from side to side i “Y’et a little sleep and a little slumber, then will I arise and till my field and trim my vines.” In the dim distance, the grim, gaunt, hungry-looking figure of Poverty was seen stealthily approach ing. Tom often looked at this picture, but hitherto had not fnlly learned its lesson. He was a thoughtful boy in his way, and sometimes philosophized a bit about his lazy tendencies. Indeed, he was a philosopher in petticoats, for he would sometimes argue to himself iu this way : “My name is Sing. Why, it’s the uame of that slimy, gliding thing on tho garden walks 1 Wonder if the family got its name—as Edward Long shanks got his, from his long legs— from the slowness of Borne member re minding people of a slug ? If so, how can I help being sluggish ?—it’s in the blood.” He had vet to learn that people are born into the world like colts, and need breaking-in to bo of full use. The boy was quick with his eyes, however, if slow with his hands and feet. He had picked up a great deal, in this way about beasts and birds and flies and creeping things. On this memorable afternoon he was fresh from a book about the termites or “white ants,” found in Africa, which bnild nests twelve feet high, some on the ground, shaped like pointed haycocks or huge mushrooms, and some in trees, shaped like sugar-casks, with a covered wav to them, winding round the trunk, from the ground. There was a seriousness in his father’! tone as he begged Tom to tree lrimsej from the growing slavery of indolenct * by one grand effort, which made bin | fee! very miserable and disgusted wit! j himself. In this mood ho wanderce I into the orchard and threw himsel 1 ’ jl down under a tree. It was a beantifn summer evening. Tho slanting suniigb barred the grass with long shafts ol green and gold. Hard by, a little stream made music as it ran. The air was thronged w.th insects, dancing away their little day in the sunset hour. ” Tom oonld not help feeling the beauty of the scene. And some sense of sweet ness would mingle with the bitterness that found vent in his tears. When these had ceased, his eye chanoed to fall on a nest of ants, the inmates of which were very busy around him, some repairing the nest, others guarding it and others carrying stores into it. As he watched them, the nest began to grow -'■ousibiy bigger, until it seemed as if he <. ^ld walk up and down in it Tom thought this was a splendid ehance of exploring an ant-hill, and making up to the nest, was about to enter, when two of the guards rushed out, clashing their jaws so fieroely that he felt qnite frightened. He was still more startled, however, when one of them asked him what he wanted. On recovering him self, he made bold to ask if he might be allowed to see over the nest The guards oonveuflftH^h^moment, ar.d pres ently returned with a kindly, motherly- looking ant, who said: “The qneen has been pleased to grant you jour request and appointed me your guide. Please step this way.” The entrance opened into a kind of hall, which again narrowed into a lobby, having a pillar at the entranee, midway between the walls. Seeing Tom look wonderingly at this pillar, the guide told him' it was to make the nest easier of defence when attaoked. “You see,” she said, “a couple of ants could keep a whole army at bay here.” Tom thought it a most skillful device. Passing through this lobby, they came to another hall, mueb larger than the first, with pillars here and there, to sup port the roof. “This is the grand assembly-room,” said the guide. Then she led him into another lobby, having a row of cells on each side. They mounted a staircase, and passed through a gallery, which also had rows of cells on eaoh side. There was some- thing, or somebody, in every cell. Now and again, they met a long string of ants bearing burdens. The leader of one of these—a big-jawed ant siezed Tom with his nippers as they were passing, and wonld have made them meet in his flesh, had not the gnide signaled that he was a friend, Tom might have grown weary with his long tramp, but for some entertain ing accounts of other ant nests by the guide. She described one hollowed out of the branches and twigs of a thorn tree for the sake of honey hidden there; an other purse-shaped, made by gluing leaves together while on the tree; and another, stranger still, made with dried cakes of refuse, arranged like tiles on the branches of a tree, one large cake form ing the roof As they came to one cell a joyous com pany passed out, having among them a largo ant of very stately bearing. “The queen! tho queen 1” cried the guide. “Isn’t she a right noble lady ?” Tom took note how very devoted and attentive the ants were to their queen. Her body-guard lifted her gently over all rough places; and when the royal party met a troop of working ants, the latter divided and sainted the former as it passed along. Turning into the cell the queen had just left they saw the floor covered with the smallest eggs Tom had ever seen, They were scarcely bigger than a pin point. “But come this way,” said the guide, “and I’ll show you the nursery.” This was one of the cosiest cells in the whole nest.- Here, ranged against tbe walls like classes in a school, wero rows upon rows of small, white, legless grubs. They looked like tiny sugar loaves, and were made up of eleven or twelve rings. Every little creature had its nurse, who was either feeding it or washing it, or just taking it out for an airing, or bring ing it in. "What in the world are these funny little things ?” asked Tom. “Why, they have come out of eggs tike those you saw just now; and if sparod will be full-grown ants some day. Now you must see the spinning room.” So saying, the guide led across a passage into another cell. Here a number of fine fat grubs were spinning gauze dresses for themselves, which were to shroud their bodies from top to toe. A few were Bpinning an ad ditional coat of silk to put over tho gauze dress. “These are their nightgowns,” said the guide. “And the moment they are covered from head to foot they will go to Bleep for a month or six weeks without waking.” Tom thought that wonld be nice. The spinning room led to the dormi tory. Here Tom saw what at first looked like piles of broken twigs and tiny balls of silk; but when he examined the bits of stick more closely he could trace the face and limbs of an insect through the gauze covering. They looked, for all tho world, like thepiotured mummies he had seen in books. The guards iu the room looked rather savagely at Tom when he entered, but a glance from the guide made all right. On reminding the guide that the qneen they saw a little while ago bad no wings, she said: “Yon are quite right, Master Sharp-eyes. But she once had wings, aDd I’ll tell yon how she lost them. The wings of the king and queen are for the wedding-trip only. The king dies, or is killed off on his re turn, while the queen Btrips off her wings and seta seriously to her life-work of laying eggs; and that is how she loses her wings. See 1 there they go for the wedding-trip 1” Tom turned, and saw two rather ele gant-looking ants, with wings half raised, making toward the door of the nest. He and the guide followed just in time to wish them much happiness, as they flew away through the sunlight air. Tom, seeing himself at the main door again, and thinking he had trespassed quite long enough on the kindness of his ant-friend, turned to thank her, and to seud also a message of thanks to the Queen, when she exclaimed: “Oh, I have a good deal more to show yon. You have not seen our cows yet.” “Cows, cows? Ants have cows 1” sried Tom, in astonishment “Yes, ants have cows; and if yon will step this way yon shall see them.” Tom obeyed, and they retraoed their steps through one of tho long corridors. As they went along they met an ant carrying a heavy burden. “What! busy yet?” said the gnide, and they touched hands as thoy passed. “That is one of the best workers in the whole hive; she works fifteen honrs a lay many a time." Presently they came upon a little insect with a tuft of hair in its back, which an ant atfHTed, and then went away licking its. '*oe. “That is a walking honey-pot;” we want a taste we suck them, as yon saw that ant do just now.” Tom opened his eyes at this. Bnt he opened them wider when he learned that there were ants who were living honey-jars, who stored up honey and gave it ont as required to the other members of the community. Jnst then a very small ant leaped on the baok of the gnide and pnt its iong spider-legs round her neck. “Stennie, Stennie, my little pet, don’t qnite choke me with your hugs. Yon see we have pets, as well as cows and living honey-pots,” turning to Tom. They had now reached the cow-shed, connected with the main nest by a cov ered way. It was built round and over the leaves of a daisy plant which formed the stalls for the cows. Tom was looking for a large, four legged oreatnre, and when the guide pointed ont qnite a herd of small, green inseots, he thought she was surely pok ing fun at him. Bnt these were the ant-cows. For by and by the milk maids came in, went np to the oows and stroked them very gently until drops of honey fell from them, which they drank. As Tom stood watching them, he remembered to have seen green in sects like these on the rose-trees and gooseberry boshes in his father's gar den, and the thought struck him that what people call honey-dew was the honey dropped by these little creatures. The gnide told him, as they walked away, that there were some ants that grew their own rice and even mnsh- -ooms. “Dear me,” thought Tom, “ants arc as clever as men.” Coming to a door that led into the grand hall and looking in, the gnide ex claimed : “Why, the sports are on and 1 did not know.” It was a merry scene. At one end was the queen, with all her courtiers round her, watching the games. Here 1 a long double row of ants were playing at thread needle. TUero a company was dancing; eloso by were several pair! wrestling and boxing; while many of th, yonngsters were playing at hide-and- seek all round tho hall. Suddenly, when the merriment was at its liight, » cry was heard : “To the pillar, to the pillar ! The foe, tho foe ! Seal the inner doors 1” The scene was changed in an instant. The queen had her bodyguard doubled, and was taken off to the royal cell, and sealed np. Tbe keepers of the figgs, the grubs, and the mummies hurried away to their respective cells, and filled np the doorways with clay. The cow- keepers did the same with the entrance to the covered way. All was excitement When the defenses were completed, all waited the onrush of the enemy. But it proved a false alarm. One of the out posts had indeed seen a legion of Eoldicr ants in tho distance, tendiug toward the nest. They were simply rounding a hill, however, and then made for a neat of negro ants, intent on making slaves. This was the explanation of a scout, who had been sent out to see how the thing wonld turn. Tom was utterly dnmfounded when he heard of ant slaves. “Do ants really make and hold slaves?” ho asked, in ntter astonish ment, of his gnide. “Yes, some; not all. We have no slaves, bnt do all onr work ourselves. There is one tribe of ants, the ‘Ama ions,’ great slaveholders; but they do nothing but tight and lounge. They are very brave in war, however, and never take or kill the np-grown ants of a nest, except these try to hinder them from carrying off their young, which they want to bring up and make into slaves. Bnt they have to pay dearly for their laziness. ” Tom winced. “They are called the ‘Workers;’ bnt they are jnst the opposite when not fighting. They neither feed nor clean themselves nor their young ones. All this is done for them by slaves, who actually have to carry them on their backs when they go to a new settle ment. In fact they have lost the power .of doing anything for themselves through having everything done for them and not using the power they had. Their jaws have lost their teeth, and are now simply nippers with which they kill their foes. And all this results from in dolence.” Tom winced again. Was she pointing at him ? “Bat,” she went on, “I know another tribe, the Ronndjaws, who have become more helpless still in the same way. They are even losing their nipping power; and if it were not for their slaves, who carry them to the field and then fight by their side, they would never win a battle. There is one other tribe which sloth has plunged into yet deeper depths of degradation, the Worn- onts. They are the mere puppet mas ters of their slaves, who have become the real masters. Laziness is a terrible curse ; it can blight the finest powers.” The speaker’s thousand eyes flashed fire as she spoke these words, and mada Tom tremble. He shuddered at the picture of the ants on whom the curse of idleness had fallen. It made him think of the pic ture in his bedroom. Did he really see what his future might be—and would «_ _ a: J Ua «tAf r»Vianerfi—in thee© pi<5- tnrned the white, legless grab, in his dream, into a light airy inseot. It was a new birth. A few months later he went to business, and soon won a char acter for patient industry which he kept throughout his life. BUTLER’S BOLD DEFIANCE. The General Will Hark die America to Beat any Yacht Afloat. General Butler was seen at his office in Boston relative to the chances of his yacht America in the forthcoming race for the Queen’s Cup. “The America,” said the General, “won the cup origi nally, and I think she should have an opportunity to defend her honors. They have constructed some sort of a machine abroad 81 feet long, 15 feet wide, and drawing 15 feet of water, which they expect will carry off the trophy. They might just as well sail a shingle. A trial between the America and vessels constructed after the ideas of modern naval architecture will show, too, whether recent improvements have added anything to the speed of sailing vessels. I have never met a vessel sur passing the America in speed, and, while I am not a betting man, I will wager a reasonable snm that she can outsail any yacht in the world under the rules of the New York Yacht Club. That is a standing offer, and I shall be glad to accommodate anybody who thinks he has a yacht that can beat her.” Captain James H. Reid, who General Bntler stipulates shall sail the yacht America provided she is allowed to de fend the Qneen’s Cup against the Eng lish yachts which are coming over hero this summer, is the well known Boston Bay pilot and one of the owners of pilot- boat No. 3. In a conversation with a reporter on the chanoes of the America winning in such a race as is proposed, he said that under ordinary circum stances the America would be heavily handicapped. The English yachts are cutter modelled and are built solely for racing purposes, while the America is a schooner and is more of a pleasure boat than a racer. Still she was never so fast as now, either to windward or running, and with an eight to a ten knot breeze she could defeat any yacht of her sizo or rig in the world. Although not in the race he had no difficulty in going over the course with the Countess of Dufferiu when she raced for the cup and beating her hand somely. The America, he said, is a vonderful boat, and with her weather— should she meet the Englishmen—there is no doubt that Bbo would make a splendid race. If the America was ad mitted to the contest Captain Reid said that he should sail her, bnt owing to her rig he was afraid that the New York club would not permit her to Bail. How ever, nothing had been settled yet and it would probably be some time before anything definite would be arrived at. The Lime-Kiln Club. “While dis am de aige of progress,” said Brother Gardner as he rose up with a force of 6S0 pounds to the square inch, “do not progress too fast. Dar am sich a thing as puttin’ too much sugar in a sweetcake. “Frinstance, progress has carried us past de pint whar’ we kin stuff ole hats an’ coats in de winders in place of broken panes, bnt doan’ jump to deoonclusknn dat you has got to run in debt fur lace curtains to keep up wid de times. “Progress has carried us past de pint whar’ men believe in ghosts an’ goblins, bnt doan’ emagine dat yon am called up on to show yer smartness by riduculin’ any of de onsartin passages in de Bible. “Progress has ear’ied us past de pint whar’ religun forbids a man to enjoy bisself, bnt doan’ feel called upon to w’ar yer hoofs off in dancin’ or to get used to a paok of keerds dat you shnfire yer knife an’ fork as soon as you sot down at de table. “Progress has carried us past de pint of bilin’ taters wid do hides on, bnt dey has got to be paid fur all the same, an’ von musn’t judge of a man’s character by h’arin’ him order Saratoga chips. • ‘Progress no longer permits our sons to w’ar out onr ole oloze, but when you ketch a young man hoein’ co’n with broadoloth on his legs an’ a paste-dia mond in his biled shirt yon kin mako up yer mind dat Injnn meal am gwine to take a raise of fifty cents on a hun dred. “Progress demands dat our chill’en be eddecated, but bekase yer boys kin figger cube root an’ yer girls chatter French, doan’ miss de chanoes to 1’arn de fust a good trade, an’ de second de art of bakin’ bread an’ cookin’ bacon.” —Detroit Free Frees T ME-KILN CLUB. Our Wheat and Corn. ittle The report of consumption and dis tribution of corn and wheat from sta tistical returns of the Department of Agrioultnre shows . lat 37} per oent of the last crop of corn remains in farmers’ hands, against 33 per oent on March 1. 1884. The supply in farmers’ hands last March was 512,000,000 bushels, while the remainder now is about 675,- 000,000. The amount shipped is a few millions less than last year. The exports equal 28,000,000 bushels, against 32,- 000,000 at the same date in 1884. The at reported in farmers’ hands is 33 per cent of the crop—169,000,- bnshels, or 50,000,000 bushels more the Btock of last Maroh, when the was less by 920,00,000 bushels, has been a slightly freer use of t for bread, and a little of the poof- has been fed to stock. gUBB SION SOMEBODY’S SAYING. ttle Dollie—Didn’t your nose Boh morning, Mr. Wimps ? i, who has called to spend the g with Dollie’s siateijjtNo, child; me, why ? ' ^ 4 Dollie—Beoause me says when itches somebody is talking you, and ma and sister Lil were awfully about yon this Telegram, “Feller mortals,” said the lecturer, as he gulped down a glass of water, and cautiously looked at the three shirt- buttons in the bottom of the glass, “dis human natur’ of ours am a strange mnddle. We kin feel de sentiment of hate, love, indifference, sentiment, ad miration, fear, reverence an’ disgust in one short day. We attain de highest eminence, an’ we sink to the lowest slums. We reverence one man an’ hate another. We feel hilarious one hour an’ shed tears of sorrow the next. Stranger dan all de winds dat blow— more valuable dan any weather fur nished by natur’—bold an’ fearless— weak an’ vascilatin’—human natur’ can be praised an’ condemned in de same breaf. “If we studied de natur’ of man as finely as we do dat of a boss we would not tread on his co’ns so often. Man am as pliable as ’lasses if you take him right If you take him wrong he am as brittle as glass an’ as hard as Btnn. Dat am a matter we seldom stop to con sider. We take him as pleases ns—not to please him. Our ideah is dat he mus’ put up wid our style—not to bring ns to his. I has seen dozens of men who war’ bo’n all right spilt by contact wid de world. Nobody took ’em jist right, an’ dey wouldn’t study to take odder men right. “Some men kin be bossed—some has to be coaxed. Some am naterally mulish —some plastic. Some kin be reached frew deir weaknesses—some frew deir strength. A modest man an’ a proud, vain man mus’ be handled on teetotally different principles. We make enemies and meet wid needless rebuffs an’ re fusals bekase we fail to consider dese troofs. If our boss has a habit of bitin’ we lay awake nights to devise some remedy fur it. If our naybur am a nateral kicker we ridicule his grievances an’ burlesque his tribnlashuns. If onr hoss am too high-strung to take de whip we are keerful to keep de lash away from - him. If our naybur am too proud- spirited to borrer our wheelbarrci an’ lend ns his washboa’d we deolar him beneath our notis an’ wash our hands of de hull fam’ly. “It am de easiest thing in de world to make a friend. Fust, locate your man. Second, size him up. H he am a vain, proud man praise his personal apperr- ance, his home—hi3 wife, chill’en an’ speeohes. No man am so poo’ an’ lowly dat his words of praise won’t sonn’ sweet to an egotist. “If he am a cross, sarjy, ont-o’-sorts chap, feelin’ sartin in his own mind dal de world wasn’t built on correct princi ples, doan’ try to argy wid . him to con vinco him dat dis airth ton all O. K. from cellar to garret. On de contrary, side fin 'wid him. Growl at de world abuse mankind, an’ tell him how sorry you am dat ho wasn’f on ban’ to manage things about 200 y’nrs B. C. It will be like doin’ up a sore toe in a greased rag. ‘When you meet a man who am sort o’ sneakin’ frew life on de quiet—nsbb3r heard of outside of his own nayburhood —modest, unassumin’, an’ only wantin’ to be let alone, feed him gnm-drops. Tell him you have heard his name msn- shuned as candidate for alderman. Ask what y’ar it was when he run fur de Legislachur. Inquar’ when his next, book of poeius am to be published. Ax him if he am de Smith who invented de comet. He' will cringe and wince, but he will go home an’ think if ober an’ be your friend fur life. "Dar’ am cranks to be humored. Dar am eccentrics to be praised. Dor’ am circlin' ’round us day by day a chain of men an’ women who doan’ know beans from broomsticks, but who mas’ be com plimented on deir exquisite tastes an’ high order of intellect “As de time allotted to me has ’bout expired, let me say to you, in closin’ dis discourse, dat de man who makes ene mies am no reader of human natur’. It am jist as easy to make ten good friends as one enemy. Abuse no man’s poly- tics. Slur no man’s religion. Hold no argyment3 wid a man who has been soured by misfortunes. As fur women —treat all alike by praisin’ all. My frens,” said Brother Gardner as he made ready to close the meeting, “study human natur'. Begin to-night Begin by givin’ de gineral public half de side walk on your way home, an’ keep ty up by promisin’ de ole woman a new p’ar of shoes if yon find her in de sulks. Let us now circulate. ’ NAMES OF AMERICAN TOWNS. Jlr. David Dudley Field Oblcets to Troy, Utica* Syracuse* and You Bet. Mr. David Dudley Field, in a lecture before the Geographical Society on “The Nomenclature of Cities and Towns in the United States,” read a list of names whioh he found in a railway guide, and which he said would natn- rally be supposed to have been selected by a half civilized people. Think, ho said, how unhappy must be the inhab itants of such villages as Yon Bet, Pop Corn, Wild Cat, Cnt Shin, Big Coon, Toad Vine, Black Jack, Sknnk Lake, Buzzard Roost, Cat Creek, Dirt Town, Dootor Town, Jug Tavern, Cow Skin, and Cut Off. ‘ Mr. Field criticised the classical names of towns in New York State. He called Troy, Utica, and Syraouse grievously misnamed cities. There were Indian names enough at hand, sprung from the soil, spoken for ages by the aboriginal inhabitants, but these were cast aside for names as much out of place as the sculptures of the Parthenon were out of place in a London museum. “Who,” he asked, “has not been moved by the pathos of Bed Jacket exclaiming that the tears fell from his eyes ‘as the drops of rain fall from the tops of the trees of Oneida.’ Substitute Utica for Oneida in this passage and note the logs of poetio charm. The man who tacked all the classical names in New York to the places now burdened with them was a pedantio surveyor-general of the last century, who probably took the names at random out of a classical dictionary.” As to the task of finding an agreeable name for every Post Office in the coun try, Mr. Field said he would not like the task, but if he undertook it he wonld not follow the example of a late Assistant Postmaster-General who named 300 Post Offices after himself. Mr. Field recommended aB first choice, the aboriginal Indian name as both sig nificant and musioal. If no name could be found, then take a prominent local object, such as mount, valley, field, or river. The founder’s name with "town” added might do at pinoh. By all means eschew “villa” at the end of a name. It was French and did not fit onr names. What oonld be more dreadful than Mc- Grawville, yet we have one and it has a seat of learning. Musical names might bo inverted. Elberon at Long Branch is an instance. The owner of the site was L. B. Brown, out of which El beron was formed. New Items of Dressmaking. Pointed waists both in front and back rival regular basques on imported dresses, especially those of silk, lace or Sicilienne. The point of the back is sharper than that iu front, bnt not so long, and sometimes the short sides and back are finished by a knifo-pleated frill of silk which is about four inches deep in the middle of tho back, but slopes away to only half au inch under tho arms. Sometimes this frill is ci up in a shell-like jabot in the midi the back to give it a more bo effect. The folded surplice also seen on lace, sunih dresses alike. SUBDUING AN ELEPIIANT. THE HUMOPiOUS PAPERS. AJAX, AN EI.EPnANT IN PHILADEL PHIA, BECOMES VICIOUS. The work of conquering the proud spirit of Ajax began at nine o’clock on Tuesday morning and ended shortly before noon Saturday. Beating has no effect npon a mad elephant. It only renders him more stubborn and wicked. The breaker’s only hope is to convince snch an animal that he is powerless against man. That accomplished, the beast becomes as docile as elephants ever are. On Tuesday morning four hawsers were passed through immense pulleys attached to beams under the roof. Then a set of harness, shaped something like a monster shawl strap, was fastened about Ajax’s defiant body. The leather straps, which were three-ply thick, covered Bmall chains. All the leather plates were copper riveted and a foot wide. Ajax looked as though he were in armor after being encased. Three honrs were spent in getting the harness on him, and daring the job he slightly injured two of the keepers. Through iron rings, supported by great chains, were passed the hawsers. Then a dozen men grasped two of the lines of rope that passed through the pulleys, and before Ajax knew it his hind feet were Bix feet above the ground and he stood on his front ones in the most approved performing elephant style. For a moment he was paralyzed with astonishment, but surprise gave place to fury when ho appreciated the ridiculous posture he was in. He surged and trumpeted and flapped his ears, but all to no purpose. When his struggles subsided some of the men ran off with the front ropes and in a jiffy Ajax’s body was suspended in air. He made frantic efforts to tear the belting off with his trunk, bnt the chains between his fore legB and around his shoulders prevented it. There the monster brute bung, ns helpless as an infant. He was free to kick and plunge and butt the air as much as he pleased. From time to time he was lowered, so that he conld rest his legs, but none of the men were allowed to approach or worry him. In the evening he wa3 low ered and fed, and allowed to spend the night on the ground, thinking over tho indignities that had been pnt npon him. “After his breakfast on the following morning he was trussed up as before. He resisted, but his efforts were un availing. He was a stout-spirited brute, however, and the second day’s punish ment only seemed to increase liis rage. When he came down to supp^ the maddest elephant tij WHAT WE FIND IN THE.II THIS WEEK. TO S.iHLE OVEU. Not In UIs Ofllce-A Street Romance—Inno cent Childhood—Fun in Boston* Etc. THE SEASONS. 1. The winter’s almost past, the time is comings fast that brings the genial sunshine bright and clear, clear, clear, and paragraphers gay will shortly pnt away the sealskin joke until ano " year, year, yearj 2. The copjd througn allowed t rest, anej ice ere 11 hand sol-J dressed , 3. TJ Up WF is madj from I mant. 4. 1 jokers *1 lovers who tii^ stoop and spooi^to^^HLth moon together swing upon thil gate, gate, gate. 5. But thi3 is merely done poses of fnn, intended as a little C* less chaff, chaff, chaff—no malice in i play—to drive dull care away, aud mjJ the melancholy person laugh, laugh.—Boston Courier. A MOTHER S POEM ON A young mother sends upon “Baby.” It is certainly^ The only fault we have to find i that of sacrificing melody to ha The third stonza is a striking i of this: Doxery doodle-um dinkle-mn Tam to its mozzery mazzery mu, i Tizzery, izzery, boozerj i >oo, No baby so sweet and so pitty as ’oo. —Upton Nei HE MOVED. A Detroit gentleman went to hisj door one fine afternoon to inlij balmy air of spring. To him i passer-by remarked: “I’ll bet yd dollars, Mister, that you’ll move J night.” “You are an impudent^ replied the gentleman, “but your bet. Why do you think D ing to move ?” “Because, Mister,^ house is afire.” INNOCENT CHILDHOOD. Fond mother—What a dear, sweety little fellow Bobby is 1 Ho asj last night if he were to die A heaven if I thought God with bui corners insteal edged with may be covered rows, breasted fronts vests have bee! papers; to thesj nine Breton vi tons set h side of the Harper's Keeping the Pledge. “In early life,” says “Camp-meeting” John Allen, “I used to drink. But sixty years ago I signed a pledge. That one, though, I didn’t exactly keep. It was a pledge of my own, and after I signed it I hid it away in a drawer; didn’t let anybody know I had signed it. Afterward when I was with some friends who wanted me to drink I took a little, and spoilt my pledge. So I went right home nnd rubbed out the date, [and just changed that over. Then I signed a sooiety pledge and never drank liquor as a beverage afterward. Fifty-five years ago I throwed ont tobacco, and haven’t touched a partiole as big as a mouse’s ear since.” Picking Cotton.—The Southern peo ple are expecting great things from Ma son’s invention for picking ooiton, now approaching completion. The Mobile Register calls it the greatest , and most usefnl invention of the nineteenth cen tury. It is designed to be a substitute for the human fingers in picking the lint from the open bolls without damage to the stalk of the plant, its leaves, blooms or miniature bolls. It seems to do this work with an almost human in telligence. 4 mat four and e with that aok Jigging for A New the rapid! ing I may ing busily hope to he exi said he,, “that gradually getting ii ing, and we know nature. Ladies of tion do not scruple to thing that cgmes in tom-house officers si ladies think itnocrimi they come from En*‘ them think it" just merchant./ We ofte: we d<7 TfSt want away, and then w! an arrest there is kleptomania. Yoi class ladies taking as soon as detected! ways with the lady, fer the risk of bein! prisonment. Along the coast of are plenty of tomcods, neoticut frostfish, whii Thames and other gather under the ice. who knows their habits in the ice two sticks each as arm, a fish hook, a string of oak leaves. The oak on the end of one hook on the end of the plunges the oak lean water and waves them Soon frostfish gather when the fisherman with the fish hook The absentees are m fish hang aronnd is waved. The for tomcod.
