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J. W. ANDERSON, Editor and Proprietor
DREAM CHILDREN,
I trust in the dear Lord's wisdom,
I do not question flis will,
Bat oft as I sit in my chamber,
In the twilight, calm and still,
I long for tho children’s voices,
I long for the clinging arms,
As unto my ear th<T whisper
Their tiny griefs and alarms.
And my silent room is peopled
With forms I can almost see,
The forms of the dear dream children
Who cluster about my knoe.
I can hear their merry prattle,
I feel tlicir breath on my cheek,
And my fancy again makes real
The dear ones my heart would seek.
And so I sport with my children,
And watch their swi efc, quaint ways,
Till my heart grows heavy with longing
And my eyes are dim as I geze.
For alas ! they are but shadows
That out of the da- kness grow;
Only the frail dream children
That the heart alone can know.
Caho Coleman.
A TERRIBLE ADVENTURE.
“I hare had such an adventure,’’ex¬
claimed Mrs. Badger as she 11 mneed
into the sitting room, sank into an easy
chair and gasped for breath.
“Wlmt is tho matter, my dear?” in¬
quired Mr. Badger as he laid down his
newspaper to listen.
“That is a nice way to speak to a
woman after she has just seen a sight
that curdled her blood. Oh, my !” ex¬
claimed tho worthy lady as she covered
her pink face with her terra cotta
gloves, totally oblivious for the moment
of the fact that the two colors formed a
very inharmonious contrast. “I can see
it before me now. I don’t believe I will
ever forget it, ever.”
“Compose yourself, my dear, and tell
me all about it.”
“That is the way with you men,” re¬
sponded Mrs. Badger as she removed
her hands from her face and began un¬
buttoning her gloves. “You have no
feeling. You don’t know what sentiment
is. If you ha 1 passed through what I
have to-day the first intimation I would
have of it would be an unusual odor
about your breath. You would go into
and talk tue matter over with a friend,
and by the time you got hom9 you
would forget all about it. Compose my¬
self, indeed, I know I sha’n’t recover
from the shock for six weeks, if ever I
will.”
Here the excited matron paused to
allow her husband an opportunity to in¬
terrupt her again, but that individual
wisely refrained from taking advantage
of it.
“When I got through my work this
noon—you know we had company for
lunch ? Mrs. Simpson and her daughter
were here. How I detest that woman !
I know she came here on purpose to
make mean remarks about our new sil¬
verware. By the way, Isaac, that sil¬
verware’ is wearing very badly. The
plating has been rubbed off in three
places on our coffee-pot already. That
comes of buying your table ware at a
tea store. I always knew you were no
judge of such things. The next time
perhaps you will let mo buy stuff for
my own house. But you always think
you know so much about some things.
No one can teach you anything. If you
would take your wife’s advice once or
twice a year, instead of that miserable
Jim Wilson’s, it would be better for you
—and me, too. I suppose now you will
go and te 1 that odious man just what I
have said. That is the way you always
do. You know you do. The last time
I told you the truth about him you
went right off and repeated it to him
like a little, leaky school boy. You
needn’t try and deny it, for Mrs. Wilson
came over here the next day and made
the most scandalous statements about
you I ever heard, and I know she only
did it to get even. Oh, if I was only a
man I’d show you tome things that yon
ought to know.”
Here Mrs. Badger stopped for breath
and glared across the fireplace at her
unfortunate husband in a way that wonld
have chilled the marrow in the bones of
a less experienced Benedict.
“Well, my dear,” suggested Mr. Bad¬
ger, with a faint sigh, “as yon were
about to say, Mrs. Simpson called.”
“That’s right,” snapped Mrs. Badger
viciously. “That’s right. Since you
wore down town aud saw the terrible
sight, suppose you finish the story.
That’s right. Go ahead and toll me all
about it. I’m impatient to hear.”
“I didn't intend to interrupt you. my
dear,” responded Mr. Badger, wearily.
“Don’t ‘my dear’ me, sir. Please
don't. Well, since you don’t know any¬
thing about it and are willing to listen
to me relate it I will continue. Mrs.
R'mpsou and her freckle-faced Miss
Simpson came to lunch. We had pickled
salmon, hot biscuits—yon know what
delicious biscuits Mary makes ? It is
the only good thing about the baggago.
She does everything else terribly. She
broke three saucers this morning while
she was trying to listen to what I was
saying to you about JenDie Parsons
while we were in the pantry. I think 1
shall discharge her. She is too careless
for any use, but then she is cheap and
knows our wjiys, and Heaven knows
what I should do with a new girl, but I
suppose you would, be glad to have a
She Comttflton Star.
change--you don’t have any of the work
to do. Yon men are bo selfish. I wish
I was a man.”
‘‘So do I, my dear,” observed Mr.
Badger. “Then I might possibly heat
the end of this story some time this
year.”
“That’s right, Mr. Badger; when you
cant trea’t me cruelly and neglect me,
abuse me. That’s the way with you
men. I have a good mind not to tell
the story not at all now, just for spite.”
At this moment Mr. Badger picked
up his newspaper and resumed his read¬
ing.
“As I was saying,” continued Mrs.
Badger after five minutes of silence,
which seemed to her like a month,
“when Mrs. Simpson and Miss Simpson
left the house I put on my cloak and hat
aud started down to buy some groceries
that I asked you to order several days
ago, but which you forgot as usual.
You always forget such things until you
sit down to the table to eat and then
you storm and raise a row because you
don’t fiud the articles all cooked and
ready for you in silver covered dishes.
I got in a rod car aud started down
town. The car didn’t stop for me at
first. I had to walk over to the other
side of the street and walk through a
pool of water, but I don’t suppose it
would make any difference to you if J.
had drowned. After wading nearly up
to my boot tops I finally got into the
car and there wasn’t any seat for me.
Tho car was crowded with men and wo
men. There wasu’t a gentleman there.
It’s a pity tlio street car companies don’t
run cattle cars for those brutes who sit
down and pretend to read newspapers
tt bile ladies stand up. There was one
putty-faced dude who wasn’t reading.
He didn ’t dare look me in the face. He
fumbled around in his pockets and
pulled out a newspaper, and when I
looked at him he began reading it up¬
side down. Some men would do any¬
thing rather than stand up and let a
lady sit down. Tben the brute of a
conductor asked mo if I didn’t have
small change when I gave him a five
dollar bill. Of course I had, but I
wouldn’t give it to him after he had in¬
sulted me before the car full of people,
not that I cared for them, though.
— •*" AWVBVM MV 1UU AMIS croo|/iwuticn t f,
and carried it out on the platform and
asked the driver if it was good. He
then went through the car and asked
every man if he had change. None had
any, of course, and he had to give it
back to me. I hope lie had to pay my
fare himself, just because he was such
a selfish brute. But he \va3 like all you
men.
“At Twenty-third street a woman got
in the car with that lovely dress pattern
I saw on Broadway last fall and wanted
you to buy for me, but you said it was
too expensive. She had it made over,
and it was perfectly beautiful. I knew
it didn't cost her over $50, and it was
worth twice that much. Yon will see
how much it coats when I get my new
dress next month. Dress goods are
twice as high now, but you always
think you know so much about such
things.
“I got out at Fourteenth street and
was walking past that new building on
Sixth avenue. You know which one I
mean ? It has such lovely windows.
They are plate glass and reach clear
across the store, and are filled with the
greatest bargains I ever saw. I know
some of the lace that they have marked
down to 021 cents didn’t cost one cent
less than 60 cents. Well, right over the
top of the building there is a scaffold
and there were some men working on it.
They had a pile of bricks and a whole
dry goods box full of mortar. I met
Mr. Jones there—that pleasant-faced
gentleman who comes here and talks so
beautifully about Paris and the latest
fashions. Ho had his charming little
png dog with him, and the moment he
saw me he bowed and that dear little
doggie barked. Yon know the last tim e
he came here I gave him your slippers
to play with. He is such a cute little
fellow. He nearly choked to death, yon
remember, on the heel of one of the siip
pels. But you can buy a new pair for
$2, and you know I never liked that pair
anyway. You bought them without
consulting me. He said he was coming
up to see us to-night.”
“Who?” interrupted Mr. Badger, as
he started from his chair. “Jones or
his dog ?”
“Mr. Jones, of course; you don’t
suppose I would talk to a pug dog, do
you?” dear,” continued Mr.
“Well, my “I
Badger, as he buttoned up his coat,
shall have to be out this evening. I
have a business meeting to attend to. I
am sorry I can’t stay at home to enjoy
the society cf Mr. Jones and the Jones
pug, but I can’t neglect business, you
know. I must go right off. I haven’t a
minute to spare.”
“You needn’t run away to avoid meet¬
ing Mr. Jones. He won’t be here.”
“But you just said he was coming.'
“So I did, but he won’t While we
were talking a whole bucketful of bricks
fell off the scaffolding and struck him
on the head before my eyes and flat¬
tened him out like pancake. ”
a
“Oh 1” shuddered Mr. Badger, “that
was horrible, No wondej you were
shocked. I wonder whether he leaves
a widow and a family. He really wasn’t
such a bad fellow after all.
COVINGTON, GEORGIA, MARCH 25, 1885.
“Leave a widow? What do you
mean ? How could he marry J”
“I don’t see any reason why Mr.
Jones shouldn’t marry.”
“Mr. Jones? He wasn’t hurt. It
was the dog that was crushed.”
“Oh,” replied Mr. Badger, as he
seated himself again and picked up the
newspaper. “Is that the terrible adven¬
ture you had?”
“Well, isn’t that- adventure enough ?
I was so weak I had to order a carriage
to take me home, and that cost $4; and
you will have to go without meat for
your breakfast to-morrow morniDg un
less you order it yourself to-night, and,
Mr. Badger, let me say that the next
time I tell you a story you will under¬
stand it at once.”
“I doubt it,” replied Mr. Badger, as
his wife flounced out of the room to
change her dress for dinner.— Graphic,
New York's Young Men.
Says a New York correspondent:
After the opera I wandered into the
corridor of a prominent hotel and there
I met the cashier of a down town bank.
“Hello 1” Eays I. “We newspaper
men may stay up all night and sleep all
day, but how do you business men man¬
age to keep awake all the time ? You
ought to be home in bed.”
“Rght you are,” was the response,
“but I am going to-night to Mrs. B.’s
party, and am waiting for the time for it
to begin. It’s got to be impolite to turn
up at such an entertainment before mid¬
night. I shall drop around in half an
hour, dance until after four, get to bed
by five, sleep until half-past seven, and
rush down town in time to be at my
desk at nine. Of course I shall be en¬
tirely unfit for work all day loQg, but
you know that a young fellow cannot
afford to miss Mrs. B.’s party. A man’s
business success so largely depends
nowadays upon his social acquaintances
that the social part has to be looked
after sharply. I have been to the opera
to kill time. All the people whom I
shall meet at the ball Were scattered
through the opera house, and most of
the women and all the men were in their
ball attire. They simply drove from
the opera house to Mrs. B.’s, and go on
with the night’s uuaidosta enjoyment. It’s hard
isui* umu wuu nits iu
be down town early, especially if he is
out five nights in the week, as I have
been for a month; but then I sleep all
day and all night on Sundays, and get
to bed by midnight on Saturday nights,
so I contrive to make up some of my
lost sleep. I sometimes go to bed right
after dinner and sleep from eight o’clock
until midnight, and then have James
call me, and I can then turn up at the
party feeling quite bright, you know:
but it is rather awkward, don’t you
understand, io have missed the opera or
the theater and to be mixed up on the
day of the week, as a fellow is sure to
be who sleeps at odd times so and gets
up bewildered between two days.”
Yet this young man was only one
of 10,000, probably, who are compelled
to pay equal attention to social require¬
ments and business.
Yfhftt Constitutes Happiness.
In what consists this much songht-for
blessing? In nothing has opiuiou so
wide a range. Demand an answer from
any number of persons and not two
among them will return the same.
Even your chosen companion and bosom
friend will differ from you And how
the ideas as to what cm6titnte happi¬
ness change with succeeding years. The
youth or maiden would scorn that which
to the child appeared the very summit
of enjoyment. A few more years, and
sober middle-age looks backward with a
calm pity to the maiden’s love dream, cr
the young man’s eager and adventurous
pursuits. And as years advance, so do
tastes and inclinations vary; nntil, per¬
haps, life has stretched to that saddest
period of all, when poor humanity re¬
turns to childhood’s joys. Some who
have studied this problem maintain that
the most exquisite degree of happiness
is attained only by the oontrast of some
past sorrow—for the landscape that has
no shadows can never reveal the glori
ous briiliancy of sunshine. The rays of
happiness, like those of light, are color¬
less when unbroken. Sometimes it is
all gladness and sunshine and heaven it¬
self is not far off, and then it changes
suddenly and clouds shut out the sky.
Education in the East.
Uncle James, just arrived from the
West for a visit, to his little niece:
“Well, Emilv, and how are you coming
on at school?” Emily (little eight year
old Boston girl): “ Nicely, uncle.”
Uncle James: “ I suppose yon can
read and write and speli with the best of
’em?” Emily: “Oh, my, yes. I study
meatal philosophy and the science of
languages, aud o* Tuesday I'm to pre
pare a treatise on Psychology and another
one on Friday on Methods of Thought,
and twice a week we have a lesson in
Ethics of Sex, and here is an article
_u;„h whicn I a am am to read to-morrow called
The Br&zeo Period, ftud
Mamma (entering the room): “There,
Emdv dc ar little children should be
,een not heard, and besides your uncle
I ,m°s must be very tired after his long
journey.” looked tired. . -"‘Drake _ „, *
Uncle James
Traveller.
FOR SUNDAY READING.
THOUGHTS AND REFLECTIONS FOR
OUR DAY OF REST
Till inner on Evangelical Ulirlsltatilt?
Jicecher on Lonelilng In Church—Merpent
Worship—Edueutionul Value of Work.
Etc., Etc.
“EVANGELICA!, CHRISTIANITY, ’’
On Sunday morning Dr. Talmage se¬
lected lor his text Revelation x., 9—
“And I went unto the angel and said
unto him, Give me the little book. And
he said unto me, Take it and eat it up;
and it shall make thy belly bitter, but it
shall be in thy mouth sweet as honey.”
Dr. Talmage began his sermon with a
description of John on the isle of Fat
mos, and told how in a dream all these
things were revealed to him. What this
littie book was, said the Doctor, I do not
profess to know. On this subject com¬
mentators are much divided. To me,
however, it is suggestive of the creeds of
the churches, which to the scornful and
blaspheming crowd are a sweet morsel,
but which, when swallowed, are found
to be bitter and indigestible. Men laugh
at creeds, as if they wore absurd and un
nece,saury, Why, we have all our creeds.
We cannot do without our creeds. The
only being who has no creed is the idiot.
Dr. Talmage then gave a description
of what he called “Evangelical Christi¬
anity.” It was not a tiling of shreds and
patches, inharmonious, incongruous, in¬
consistent. On the contrary, it was a
well rounded, homogeneous, consistent
whole—a perfected thing, healthful, 10 -
seate and full of beauty. It was of this
Christianity he desired to speak. It was
this Christianity he desired to defend
against the jeers and jibes of the scorner
and the blasphemer. It was said of the
Presbyterians that they believed and
taught that the children of the nnregen
erate go to hell at death. If any man
would fiud him such a Presbyterian—a
man who so believed and so taught—he
would give him a title to all the property
possessed, with the right to possession
to-morrow. It was a iibel on Presbyte¬
rianism. And so Episcopacy was mis¬
represented when it was said Episcopa¬
lians put their faith in mere forms and
symbols; and the Baptists, when it was
Heaven *V>/ywt unless lualtanaj he ihof n 8 first nnn immersed; nan net to
was
and the Methodists, when it was said of
them that they could save themselves
aud that they needed no Holy Spirit to
help them.
Men laughed at the Trinity. It was
inconceivable. It was absurd. There
were many things besides the Trinity
which men could not understand. It
wonld be all explained by and by. What
they could not know now they would
know hereafter. Men laughed at the
doctrine of justification by faith; yet it
was this doctrine which, proclaimed by
Luther, gave new life to the nations.
Men laugbed in like manner at regener¬
ation and at the doctrine of vicarious
sacrifice; yet there was nothing more in¬
telligible than one, nothing of more fre¬
quent occurrence than the other.
SERPENT WORSHIP.
Serpent worship, it has long been
known, was a peculiarity of some of the
Malagasy tribes. The Rev. Mr. Little,
for several years a missionary in Mada¬
gascar and who has just published a
book on “Madagascar and Its People,”
tells the following story : “Not many
years ago, somewhat disgusted with the
practice as it prevailed among the Bet
zileo tribe, ho resolved to exhibit the
folly of the same, and if possible to
bring it into contempt. It was known
to him that a large serpent was a daily
guest at a certain house, where he was
addressed by name, and whither he made
daily visits from the forest. The good
priest went to tho house just as the ser¬
pent was creeping up to the door.
Seizing a club, he dealt the hideous
creature a deadly blow. The entire
tribe rose against him and he had to flee
for his life. “Many of the Betzileo
families,” ho adds, “have small en¬
closures near their dwellings where they
maintain numbers of these reptiles and
regard them with the utmost rever¬
ence.”
EDUCATIONAL VALUE CF WOFK.
The Rev. Dr. Charles Parkhurst :—
Work intensifies onr power. It acts like
a voice w: ich imperiously commands cur
fcattered energies and marshals them
into a solid phalanx. The difference be¬
tween men is not sc much a disparity of
power as a disparity of concentration of
power. Work stops (he dissipation of
our powers aud compresses them, aud io
makes them stronger. Difficulty is one
of our best friends; it has l>een called
the r w material of success. Worh tasks
judgments and opinions formed iv
school. All Egyptian schooling must b:
tested bv some Arabian campaign.
Your theories may be very tine but they
are not legal-tender till indorsed by ex¬
perience. A teacher is beet tanght by
teaching. Doing is tuition. Action de¬
tects all the weak places. Work en¬
larges our hearts and thoughts by hold¬
ing ns in close contact with the cur¬
rent of life.
THE fo rmosa mission.
since interesting . ,
Some few months an
account was given of a successful mis
sion which was being coudneted on the
island of Formosa by Dr. McKay, of
the Canada Presbyterian Church. It
was reported that cWer two thousand
people had cast away their idofe and
had come completely under the influ¬
ence of the mission. Dr. McKay’s re.
ports were of the most encouraging
character. It now appears that the
French ornsade has proved most disas¬
trous to the mission. The premises, in¬
cluding schools, suitable dwelling for
the missionaries and a substantial
church, have been completely destroyed
by the Chinese mob, and the converts
have been robbed and beaten.
ROYAL -■IM
CONVERTS.
One of the most powerful of the native
princes in Central Africa i3 King Mtesa.
In the Uganda district he is supremo.
He has given the missionaries from first
to last no little trouble. He was at first
friendly and gave them a cordial wel¬
come. Then he announced his deter¬
mination to abandon Christianity and
Islamism, and to carry his people back
to paganism. Latterly he has been
more tolerant, and the mission work has
been carried on at Uganda, where a
church has been built. The latest ac¬
count is that his two favorite daughters
have been received into the church at
their own earnest request. The example
will not be without its influence.
MU. REECHElt ON OOUGHINO.
After the long prayer Sunday morn¬
ing, in Plymouth Chnrcb, Mr. Beecher
took occasion to extend his sympathy
all who were afflicted with colds; "but,”
said he, “while those who have colds
must cough, I have noticed that the
time to cough can bo coni rolled. For
instance, I noticed during the prayer
there were very few outbreaks, while as
soon as it was over there was a perfeot
wave of coughing which swept over the
whole church. Now, I want to say that
coughing is injurious, and therefore I
hope you will try and control your
Belves.” No coughing wa3 heard during
the sermon.
Gen. Grant’s Refusal of Aid.
Regarding General Grant’s refusal to
accept the fund being raised for his
benefit by Cyrus W. Field and others,
Mr. Field said that he as much as any
person was surprised at General Grant’s
declination.
“But what could I do after
that letter from the General ?” said Mr.
T ” ’ * ’ ■* - v- a/>/»/>rvf it
meaning exactly what it said, for I
not seen General Grant yet, and
nothing more than the public, though I
may imagine a thousand things. ”
"And what do you imagine ?” was
asked Mr. Field.
“I could imagine that the General de¬
clines by reason of personal hesitancy,
and I might imagine that some friend
had possibly come forward and taken
up Mr. Vanderbilt’s claim against him.
I cannot imagine that the Genera)
would part with all his relics and re¬
membrances. I know I have things in
that line that I would not part with for
anything.”
“Will you retain the subscriptions
made until you have seen General
Grant? ’ was asked.
“Oh, no,” he replied, “not a dollar.
I have already returned every cent sub¬
scribed, for I had no right to it after
General Grant had said he would not re¬
ceive it.”
“How much had been subscribed?”
“I will say nothing about that. Gen¬
eral Grant did not himself know, but
there would have been no difficulty in
raising the sum. Mr. Vanderbilt told
me the property of tho General would
be intrinsically worth $160,000 to
$170,000.”
Under Each Arm.
Col “Fred.” Burnaby, killed at Abu
Klea, wag in his youth passionately fond
of gymnastics, in which he excelled
above all his fellows. There used to be
in one of his clubs a colossal dumb-bell
in a glass case with the offer of a heavy
wager that no man would hold it out at
arm’s length for the space of sixty
seconds. The wager was never wen,
though Burnaby male nothing of ac¬
complishing the feat. Among the many
stories of his phjsical prowess one re¬
lates te a period shortly after he joined
the Blaes. The regiment was down at
Windsor, and a horse dealer who had
come into possession of a couple of very
small ponies had them taken thither by
command to exhibit them to the Queen.
Before going to the Castle he showed
them to the officers of the Blues, to whom
a happy thought occurred. Burnaby,
who was captain then, was in his room
on the first flight With some trouble
the ponies were got upstairs, and, the
door quietly opening, they trotted in un¬
announced. This was a capital joke,
and had a great snccess. But, as pres¬
ently appeared, it had a gloomy side.
The ponies had gone upstairs quietly
enough, but neither force nor entreaty
could induce them to go dowD. Tho
hoar approached at which they were to
be presented to the Queen, and the
owner was in despair. Burnaby settled
the matter off-hand. Taking a pony up
in either arm he walked down stairs and
set them in the court-yard.
Personal.— Mrs. Mackey’s daughter,
who is to marry the Prince Colonna, is
not the daughter of Mr. Mackey, tut of
her first husband, Dr. Bryant, a young
cousin or connection of William Cullen
Bryant, who went west wfh the gold
fevbr, and 'was practicing medicine death. at
Virginia City at the time of his
VOL. XL NO 19.
HE NEVER SHED A TEAR.
rue Reason a Uoiiati Diamond Drew His
Balance Iron, a Bank.
On a suburban theatre train the other
night, a little party were talking of pa.
tketio scenes upon the stage, and how
they were variously affected by them.
“For my part,” said a dapper young
man, “I never yet saw anything on the
stago that could moisten my eye. I
leave the crying to little boys and wo¬
men.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” said a blufl
old gentleman, an efiioer of one of the
railroads; “every time I hear a young
man talk as you do I feel like telling a
little incident that once came under my
notice iu New York city. A party of us
sat in a box, ‘Hazei Kiike’ was the
play. None of us had ever seen it. I
shed a tear quietly and unobserved, but
rough old General McRae cried like a
boy. He was president of a Georgia
railroad then, and was in New York on
business. He was a regular martinet in
his profession, stern and unrelenting.
Ho was an old bachelor, too, and so fai
as is known never had tender feelings
toward woman or kin. He had lived a
life solitary and absolutely unsenti¬
mental. We were all surprised to see
such emotion in such a man, but none
of us said anything except young
George-, of Atlanta. He laughed
at the old General’s weakness.
tt i Can you witness such a scene as
that with dry eyes ?’ inquired the Gen¬
eral, with all his old sternness of mannei
and speech.
(( t Why, of course I can. I could
laugh at it even as I laugh at yon.’
“ ‘See here, George-,’ said Gen¬
eral McRae, with great earnestness,
‘you are cashier of a bank in Atlanta.
In that bank my company has many
thousan Is of dollars deposited. Imme¬
diately on my return home every dollar
of our deposits shall be withdrawn. You
may be an honest man, but I do not feel
safe with our money in an institution
where one of the responsible officers is
a person who talks as you talk to-night.’
“Upon his return to Atlanta the Gen¬
eral did as he promised. And luckily,
too, for in less than six months
bank was nearly ruined by a heavy
L'cmicmoui oy us casUier ."—Chicago
Herald,
Asfor’s Start in Life.
I have heal'd John Jacob Astor to
how he got his first start in life, sai
an old New Yorker. Ho kept his stor
in Peck slip, and there bought furs,
almost any that were offered him until
lie had a stock packed away that he
could not realize on. What to do he
dnl not know, but, consulting his wife,
as he always did about everything, the
conclusion was that ho should go to
London and soil them himself. This
was carried out, aud John Jacob carried
his furs to London and made a good
thing of it While there and wandering
over the great city he camo across whal
was known as the Eist India Houso oi
Company, ami recognized a name as
chief of it as one familiar. He sought
him and found a schoolmate iu his
native place in Germany. His school¬
mate did not repndiate him, but triod
to do everything he could to make
Astor feel that he wanted to serve him,
and among the rest when he was leaving
gave him a permit for a ship to trade
in the China seas. John Jacob laughed
at the gift, but took it, and had almost
forgotten its possession, when one day
something he heard made him go to a
merchant named Livermore and propose
that he fiud capital to fit out a ship aud
use the permit, aud they should share
the result. Livermore at first rejecting
tho proposal, afterward accepted it, and
the voyage was successfully undertaken,
aud from it Astor realized $59,000.
Then he took the permit and fitted out
a vessel himself aud laid the foundation
of his enormous fortune. John Jacob
never denied that he owed bis success
in a large measure to the fact that he
always consulted with his wife, whom 1
remember as a clear-headed, pructico)
woman.
-
A Gift of True Love.
The Milwaukee Sentinel says: Ella
Wheeler-Wilcox has a bracelet which
her friends desoribe as “a poem written
in gems. ” It is a gift from her hus¬
band. A golden horseshoe, studded
with turquoises, bears the date of their
first romantic meeting; a small gold
plaque, set with superb rubies, the date
of the first letter ever written by Mr.
Wilcox to Miss Wheeler ; a Romas gold
star set with sapphires represents the
engagement week. Several other days
and events are symbolized in beautiful
designs, the whole completed by the
“wedding bangle,” an exquisite anchor
and crown set with six rubies and six
diamonds. The bracelet was designed
by Mr. Wilcox and presented as a sur¬
prise to his wife.
He was Left —A wedding arranged
to tike place in Charlestown, Md., a few
days ago, had to be temporarily post¬
poned, owing to the theft of the marriage
license. The intended groom had gone
to Northeast, three miles from his home,
to get the license and buy some wearing
apparel. While returning he was at-'
tacked, and not only his money was
stolen ( but also Ills wedding, outfit,which I
he wore, and the marriage license.
THE JOKER’S CORNER.
STRAY IUTS OF HUMOR FOUND IBi’
| THU HUMOROUS COLUMNS.
The Judge was There—The Good and]
Dad CUles—It Cured lliin—Not at all
BencJive—The Beautiful Muow, Etc.
NOT VEBY SENSITIVE.
Borne Northern people imagine that
the Southern African is as full of per¬
sonal pride as cne of Fenimore Cooper’s
Indians. Uncle Mose, of Austin, is not
one of that kind.
“I’se gwinter quit. I has to look up
anodder place,” he said to his employer,
John Ingle, a wealthy merchant,
1 “What’s the matter with you, Unde
j Mose?”
“De bizness manager, Mr. White,
, has not kicked me iu de las’ two mumfs.
j Not once has he lilted his foot ag’in
j ! me.”
“I ordered him not to kick you again,
1 I don’t allow anything of that kind in
! this establishment. I intend that no
body shall hart your feelings, Uncle
Mose.”
“Ef I don’t get no kicks I’se gwinter
quit.”
‘ ‘Are you crazy ? Do you want to be
kicked and cuffqd about ?”
“Yes, sab, I does. Ebery time de
bizness manager kicked or cuffed my
ears when he was mad, he got ashamed
of hisseif afterward, and gub me a quar¬
ter. I’se done lost enough money al¬
ready, wid dis heah foolishness about
hurlin' my feelings .”—Texas Siftings,
CONDUCT.
“Wliat shall I do to gain eternal life?’’
Discharge aright
The simple dues with wLich each day is rife.
Yea, with thy might.
Ere perfect scheme of action thou devise
Will life be fled;
While ho who ever acts as conscience cries,
Bliall live, though dead.
ScmLLEU.
pur RIM UP.
Au anecdote is told of the early days
and the time when court was first held
iu this county in a log tavern. An ad¬
joining log stable was used as a jail, the
stalls answering as cells for the prisoners.
Judge T. was on the bench, and in the
exercise of his judicial functions severely
reprimanded two young lawyers who
had got into a personal dispute.
a. f-cxoufcaii Lack woodsman, attired in
a red flannel shirt, stood among the
auditors in the apartment. He was
much pleased at the judge’s lecture
having himself been practicing at
“another bar”—and hallooed out to his
worship (who happened to be Cross¬
eyed):
“Give it to ’em, old gimlet-eyes 1”
“Who is that?” demanded the judge.
He of the flannel shirt, proud of being
thus noticed, Btepped out from among
tho rest, and, drawing himself up to his
full height, vociferated:
“It’s this hero old hoss !”
The judge called out in a peculiarly
dry, nasal tone: “Sheriff, tuko that ‘old
boss,’ put him in ‘the stable,’ and see
that he is ‘not stolen’ before morning.”
—Pittsbura Dispatch.
FEACTHTL SNOW.
Oh, tho snow, tho beautiful snow,
(Shut that door,)
Filling tho sky aud the earth below;
(Yes, you can shovel it off for a quarter.)
Over tho house-tops, over the street,
($10 an hour for a sleigh ? Good heavens I)
Over the heads of tho people you meet;
(ArreBt that boy for snow-balling !)
Dancing,
Flirting,
Skinning along—
Hit tfce poet with a leather thong.
THE EXCUSE.
A mother took her little three-year
old son to an afternoon concert, and
when the first encore was given he waa
frightened, and asked his mother why
they did so. She said, playfully, “Per¬
haps they are glad sho is done singing,”
and thought no more about it.
He seemed to be satisfied, and sat the
rest of the time reasonably well. The
ne-xt morning, after his father had asked
the blessing, the little boy clapped his
hands in a very vigorous manner, and
when asked why he did so, said, “I’m
dad he’s done; I want some fis’.”
Tne TELEPHONE.
Brown (who has just had telephonic
connection established between his of¬
fice and house aud is very muob pleased
with it)—I tell you, Smith, this tele¬
phone business is a wonderful thing. I
want yon to dine with me this evening,
and I will notify Mrs. Brown to expect
you. (Speaking through the telephone)
—My friend t Smith, will dine with us
this evening. Now listen how distinctly
her reply will come back.
Mrs. Brown’s reply (coming back
with startling distinctness)—Ask your
friend Smith if he thinks we keep a
fietel.
NO USE.
A citizen of Brooklyn was met at the
door of his office the other morning by
a young man who had a bill to collect.
“For shoeing a horse—two dollais for
shoeing a horse !” exclaimed the gentle¬
man, as he glanced at the bill. “Why,
I haven’t owned a horse for the last five
years!”
“I don't know anything about that,”
replied the collect'” young man, “but was given
the bill to
“Oh, well, I’ll pay it. I was just go¬
mg down to the gas office to protest a
bill, for three months (hat ray house was
shut up„ but I see it's no use. If I have
to pay for shoeing another man’shorse I
might' as We}l pay for Soma other fttm
fly’s gas.”— Wall Stitet News.