Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

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.