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J, W. ANDERSON, Editor and Proprietor
jx. oONG IN THE NIGHT.
The dry leaves dropped upon the way,
W'iik constant sound, like falling rain;
X would give much this weary day
To hear that sound again
behind, with sharp and even rim,
Black hills of cloud possessed the sky;
A star was glimmering far and dim
Through a faint light on high.
The woods were dark, and all abroad
The fields were dark, the pathways dim;
HXy soul yearned for the living God
Thro’ the thick cloud which foldeth Him.
When all at once, up soared the moon,
With sudden flood of tender light—
A gracious flood; aud lo ! right soon
Woods, fields, and ways were bright.
The solemn trees stretched out their boughs
And caught the light. With quiet mind,
“Surely,” I said, “this is God’s house;
Aud where men seek they find.”
Tears filled mine eyes, but they were sweet;
And, standing on the shining road,
I knew what Spirits led my feet
By darksome ways to God.
— Good (fords.
An Old Maid.
BY LAURA COLLINS.
[ A lowering morning which made one
wish for the sunny South or for Italy,
I or any place which would make one feel
happier than could this dismal morning
in Wisconsin. And then to think that
this train could not make connection with
I the eastward bound train ! It is hard
i enough to stop at such a miserable little
junction at any time, but to spend three
hours here this dark morning must
prove the very refinement of torture.
There are a dozen passengers who must
wait and who prepare to make the best
of their stay here. One couple, ev¬
idently just married, find the clouds of
a very rosy color, and they walk out of
the smoky old depot to make a lour of
the town, talking eagerly the while.
Two young fellows wander uneasy about,
reading all the old tattered posters,
glowing inducements to go West, and
ancient time-tables, which invariably
decorate the stained walls of a country
depot. These young fellows finally
utter exclamations of impatience at the
dreary monotony, and go across the
street to the hotel, hoping to find some¬
thing there more congenial to them.
Two ladies at once take their departure
for the hotel, and other people stroll
out about the depot, and there are left
two persons, a man and woman, who,
after a little time, settle themselves to
reading to pass away the weary mo¬
ments, He reads his paper, she her
book, and, occasionally, woman-like,
she casts a look at her silent companion,
wondering what loved ones are awaiting
his arrival and whether he is impatient
to greet them, or if he feels a man’s
stoicism in regard to it; wondering, too,
how it is that each woman thinks the
masculine lives connected with hers so
full of manly graces and beauty, aud
who could find manly beauty iu those
rugged features ? Then she turned her
gentle eyes toward the window and
looked out at the dreary landscape,
looked with eyes which saw not outward
objects, but were introspective solely.
An old maid, commonly supposed to be
the type of discontent and unrest; but
here, evidently, the type fail ed, for this
face expressed the utmost of conteut.
Life had been filled with much of sor¬
row for her, all her bright plans bad
failed of fruition; one after another she
had bidden good-by to them aud had
turned bravely again to face the coming
of a new future, a future to be peopled
again by her bright fancies—the old
fancies all dead and gone from her ex¬
cept as they lingered in memory. An
old maid she is, so far as years go, but
no home is happier than her little ideal
home. She has filled its rooms with
bright little faces eagerly calling to
mother and the dream-father is strong,
earnest, helpful aud loving. Her dream
home is happier far than many a fine
lady’s real home; although she has noi
pictured any graudeur about it. Qh,
no, she dreams that the carpets are
faded from much sunlight and worn
from the tread of many little feet, that
there is much planning to “make both
ends meet,” but she has imagined unsel¬
fish living in this ideal home, and loving
Unselfishness can make all trials in re¬
gard to ways and means seem very slight
indeed. Her companion in this depot
is an elderly person, a stout, large man,
with keen eyes and a mouth at complete
odds with the eyes, not belonging to
them apparently. Often eyes do not
harmonize in coloring with the rest of
the face, but generally expressions are
strongly akin. This man had a sen¬
sitive mouth, ono with a mournful droop
to it. Those who looked at him caught
themselves wondering which would eon
qner—keen, hard eyes, or sensitive
mouth. He r J for some time, then
gave a quick look at the thonghtfnl face
near him, and said, abruptly: “Not a
very pleasant arrangement, this.”
A quick flush passed over the gentle
race liefnre him—a flash which his keen
eyes noted instantly and understood—s
flush which told of the girlishness yet
left to this lonely woman
“Not that it matters much to me
tvhere I am,” he continued. “Life can’t
give me anything harder than I’ve had.’’
“That is a sad thing to say,” she sa'rt,
in her timid way.
A true thing, though,” he respond¬
ed. and the comers of his sensitive mouth
draped a little more. “I feel as if T
She (louinnton Star.
'iad nothing left to live for. My wife
‘lied a year ago and—” here the vo : ce
broke. Distress ever calls some souls
out from their reserve, and hem was
Ruch a one, and she said, quickly:
“Ah, but you have all those vanishei
days and months and years to remem
her, all the loveliness of her life to think
of now.”
“How did yon know her life was
lovely ?” he queried a little Rharply.
She hesitated a moment and then
said, simply:
“It must have been, or you would no*
miss her from your living so much,” a
tribute to the manly worth in the face
she saw before her, which was keenly
relished bv the owner of the face. He
sighed, and then looked for a time out
of the smoky window, then said: "After
all, life is a strange muddle,” and, re¬
ceiving a look of understanding in re
sponse to this sentiment, he went on.
“We don’t know what is right to do
and yet we’re punished by fixed laws it
we don’t do the right. That doesn’*
seem just to me.”
“Oh, but it will come out straight in
the next life,” she cried, eagerly.
“I don’t know whether it will or not,”
he responded. “I haven’t seen the next
life yet, and T don’t know what it is
like—don’t even know if there will be a
next life. I only know that we are
hedged in and around in this life.”
“But surely the next life will take
away all the rough places of this,” she
said ; “it will make us understand all
that seems so strange about this, and—
there mnst be a future life ; God surely
wcukl not put us into this life and let si
much go out of it incomplete. That
seems to me the strongest reason for a
future, that so many die with their life
work only just begun.”
“Is that a reason or a hope with
you ?” he asked.
She hesitated and did not answer, and
just then one of the restless young men
vho had been a fellow-passenger of
theirs came in and glauced casually at
the two.
That glance made her self-conscious,
and a blush dyed the delicate face, and
she turned, in a decided way, the pages
A her book, as if she were determined
not to let the stranger get possession of
her wandering thoughts again. The
young man passed out of tho station,
and the elderly one rose and walked
restlessly about the room, knitting the
shaggy brows occasionally at some
troubled thought. Tho three hours
passed, and 1 o’clock came, and a train
came. “Can I assist you?” he asked
gently, rei.chinu out a hard, brown band
for some of the numerous bundles she
was carrying. She handed some to him
and followed his sturdy footsteps to the
train. They wondered a little why their
fellow-passengers of the morning were
not in greater basts, but forgot them
presently in the bustle of departure.
He secured a pleasant seat for her and
then one for himself at some dis¬
tance from her. A few minutes of wait¬
ing, of idle watching of the dark land¬
scape, so soon to be among remembered
things, aud the tram moved slowly out
of the town, and as it moved away
another train steamed iu. She looked
curiously at the second train, but re¬
membered that this was a junction and
did not obey her first nervous impulse,
which was to go to her whilom protector
and ask him if he were sure they were
on the right train. She forgot the train
soon, and watched the stern, set face,
and felt sorry for him, and wished he
might feel as sure of the future as did
she. Soon the conductor came, and she
watched him as he made his way toward
her. When he reached her protector,
as she already called him in her inner
consciousness, that individual gave a
quick start at some words uttered by
the conduotor, atter examination of his
ticket. A troubled look settled upon
the resolute face, and he conversed ear¬
nestly with the conductor a few mo¬
ments, then glanced at her and rose and
came to her.
“I told yon,” said he, “that we don’t
know what is right- and then we get
punished by unalterable laws, and here
is a speedy illustration of the fact, only
that I feel now that I might have known
the right, if I had taken pains to in¬
quire. We are on the wroug train.”
She looked deeply troubled, bat said,
After a moment:
“How can we get back?”
"It is of no use to go back to that
junction. We might as well go on to
Chicago now and go from there; it will
really take not much longer, and as yon
trusted to my leading in the first place,
I nil], if you will let me, see you safe
out of this trouble.”
“I am used to taking care of myself,”
she said, but her lips trembled a little.
"Where are you going?” he asked,
and upon receiving his reply added: “I
am going beyond there, so it will be no
trouble to me to see y.ou safe. I will
telegraph your dilemma to your frh nds
at the next station; we shall reach Cbi
cago m in two hours and the conductor
tells me we can icmediately take anoth¬
er train back, so that really the worst of
it will be the extrt four or five hours in
the train.”
He remained silting with her and chat
fed lightly for a time, till her mind was
somewhat diverted from the unpleasant
ness of her situation. Gradually they
wandered to deeper waters and talked
main, as they had earlier iq the day, o<
COVINGTON, GEORGIA, APRIL 29, 1885.
the problems of life, and into these
ries and answers of theirs orept ever
anon a bit of the personal history
each. He learned what a desolate life
hers had seemed to be; he learned, too,
what a sweet, cheery courage must uu
derlie her whole being, that the
lateness should have been so
and he grew ashamed of his own repin¬
ing over a lot which had much of
ness in it.
When the train drew into the
depot in Chicago he felt that he
learned to know a pure soul, and she
a deep pity for the lonely life opened
her view. And as they took the
train, which was to take them rapidly
their destination, each felt a regret
a few hours more would part them.
He sat silent for a long time after this,
wondering if he dared do the thing he
wished. He was lonely, set adrift in the
great world by the death of his wife, and
he wanted a true, womanly heart to
sympathize with his. Could he do bet¬
ter than ask this lonely woman, who
had no kith or kin in the world, to share
his lot with him ? Could she do better
than take him, she who evidently had
-ummer-land in her heart and could
make a hit of brightness wherever she
was? Each surely needed the other.
He asked her if she knew aDy one in his
town and finding she did know a person
residing a few miles from him, he took
his resolution quickly.
“I have a good farm out there,” he
said; “one hundred and sixty acres under
flue improvement, house and out-buihl
ings all iu fine shape. You can find out
all about me from Mr. —.” A moment
he hesitated as he saw that she did not
realize what he meant; then he continued
earnestly, looking down into the clear
eyes lifted so fearlessly to his: “I feel
as if I were looking into the eyes of my
wife. Am I mistaken ?” The last
words were breathed rather than ut¬
tered, and then she understood, and the
flame color mounted over the delicate
features once more, and she said quietly:
“Do I look so much like your wife ?”
He was baffled, and for a moment
knew not what to say, then rallied and
said:
“She has gone on into the future. I
don’t know what or where that life may
be, and I am lost and lonely without
her. I want that which has gone out ol
my life, and I believe you can supply
that want. You are alone in the world,
and I can make your life pleasanter, I
am sure. ”
It was a temptation, sneh as only
homeless ones can understand; but,
after a moment, she shook her head,
and then, reading the questioning look
in those keen eyes, she said, while the
color deepened in her face:
“I loved once, and have loved ever
since, and it would not be right for me
to marry any one, feeling as I do.”
The door opened, and the brakeman
called out the name of the place where
she was to stop, and the next moments
were spent in gathering together her
belongings. He helped her off the
train, and grasped her hand heartily as
he stood one instant there:
“I shall always remember you and
your happy ways of looking at life, and
your faith will help me;” and then he
swung on to the slowly-moving train,
and she walked away into the gloaming,
a tear or two falling as she thought of
the lonely days to come.—The Current.
Davy Crockett’s Gun
The Little Bock (Ark.) Gazette says:
The reporter had the pleasure of
handling Col. Davy Qrockett’s old gun
recently. It was in the State Treasur¬
er’s office, where it had been left by
“Col. Bob,” Davy’s grandson, now in
the Arkansas Senate. The gun is a long
barreled, silver mounted affair, and
along the top of the barrel, in gold let¬
ters, reads the inscription : “Presented
by the young men of Philadelphia to
Hon. David Crockett, of Tennessee.”
Near the muzzle, just back of the bead,
was the Colonel s motto: ‘ Go Ahead.
Many of the letters were so worn as to
be almost indistinguishable, and some
of them were gone completely. The gun
has come down from sire to son in the
Crockett |family ever since it was pre¬
sented in 1834. To the reporter “Col.
Bob,” who now owns the gun, said:
“There is not a gun in Arkansas to-day
which will shoot truer, 1 killed hun
dreds of deers with it, and think more
of it than I can tell. My grandfather
left it at home when he went to Texas,
taking with him his old flint-lock. It is
a rare old gun and a great curiosity. I
have been requested to send it to the
Exposition at New Orleans, and shall do
in short time. ’
so a
Cape Nathaniel Palmer, of Ston
ington, the original discover of Palmer’s
Land, furthest south of all known land,
tells the following story of the way he
save j the discovery. He was getting
rea dy to leave it when a Russian frigate
hove in sight. Capt. Palmer was am
bitious to claim the land for the United
states. How to contend with the ship
of , he Czar he did not know at first. He
waited till the frigate ran to the lee
wnrd of him and hove to, and then he
P ut U P his sheet squared away foi
her, running under her stern, and call
iDg on t as he shot past: Ahoy there I
s hip ahoy 1 do yon want a pilot m .
The ruse sncceeded, for the Russian
frig ate at once filled away, and left the
dominion free to the Stars and Smpee.
THE LIME-KILN CLUB.
WO it MS OF WISDOM FROJI
DISE HALL. t
Envy Steals Into the Quiet {Meeting
nnu Three Prouilneut Member*
their Positions.
The excitement whioh has
among certain of the older members
the olub came to a climax
evening. What occasioned the
ment was kept a profound secret
a dozen, but it may be stated here
the rumpus was kicked up by
Sunflower Smythe, a local member
a harelip and toes turning in.
For some weeks past the professor
hankered for an oflioial position,
failing to secure recognition of his mer
its, he organized a conspiracy to de¬
throne Brother Gardner. By circulat¬
ing many false statements, and by forg¬
ing the names of several individual S to
false documents, he enlisted the sympa¬
thies of Elder Antimony Swift, Deacon
Cohort Davis and Judge Cut-Off Kem
par berry. He approached Huckleberry
Tompkins with the plan, and even went
so far as to offer him a new fifty-eent
door-mat to join the conspiracy, but
Brother Tompkins was true blue, and
gave the whole affair away.
When the meeting was called to order
the three conspirators were in their
seats, entirely unsuspicious of the sand
club which was hanging over their
heads, while the president, Sir Isaac
Walpole, Way down Bebee, and others
in the ring, carried very serious counte¬
nances. The plot of the conspirators
was not yet fully ripe. Prof. Smythe
was just settling himself down to sound
Elder Toots in the matter, when
Brother Gardner rose up and said:
“ F.uvy am de parent of half de wick¬
edness in dia world. One of de fust
principles of human natur’ am to be¬
grudge some odder pusson’s good luck,
but de minit common sense am called in
fur consultation dis envy disappears—
except in isloated cases.
“ We envy de rich, while it am p’raps
aur own fault entirely dat we am not
classed among ’em.
“We envy talent, an’ yet we am
fo’ced to acknowledge to ourselves dat
we frew away our opportuntie3.
. “ Find me a man who am down on his
fellowman on gineral principles an’ I’ll
show ye a chap who orter be in Btate
Prison by de same rule.
“ De Lawd put us heah fur each to
make his own way. De field am world¬
wide, wid plenty of room fur all. If one,
by his applicashun, perseverance, in¬
tegrity an’ determination, towers above
de one who waits fur itick an’ feeds his
soul on envy, any conspiracy to pull him
down should be sot down on by all
good men. Brudders Smythe, Swift
an' Davis, I should like to see de three
of you at de foot of the grand staircase.
Dar’ am a leetle matter dat I wish to
discuss in private.
The trio of conspirators were evidently
greatly surprised at the request, but
suspected nothing and followed the
President down stairs. As no one else
was permittted to follow, it may never
be known what happened on the laud¬
ing. What the meeting heard may,
however, throw some genera! light upon
the subject.
1. Yells of terror.
2. Sounds of heels striking the walls.
3. Sounds of cloth being ripped and
torn, and boot heels striking the fence
on the other side of the alley.
4. Bump— kerchunk—thud—deep si¬
lence.
5. The echoes of the toe of a No. 13
boot striking against coat tails.
Soon after these last-mentioned sounds
had died away Brother Gardner entered
the room with a sweet smile on his face,
anu walked straight to his seat without a
word. There was blood on his left ear,
the polish was worn off his right boot,
aud one end of his collar was unbut¬
toned, but this might have happened to
any man who had fallen down stairs.
Misser President, shall I cross de
three names off de book?” asked the
Secretary.
“De Cha’r reckons you may,” was the
answer, “an’ we will now take up de
reg’lar bill o’ fare.”
Teaching the Deaf How to Talk.
THE LORDS FRAYKB DISTINCTLY UTTERED
BY A BOY ONCE A DEAF MUTE.
Mr. N. F. Whipple, principal of the
Oral School for Dear Mutes, at Mystic,
Conn., explained in the Plymouth lec¬
ture room, Brooklyn, the system o
teaching articulation to the deaf and
dumb. He introduced on the platform
a boy who had been deaf from bis birth,
and who repeated the Lord’s Prayer
loud enough to be heard in the rear of
the room, The boy spoke with mneh
distinctness, Long and difficult words
suggested by the andienoe were prompt
jy interpreted by another deaf boy as
they fell from Mr. Whipple’s lips.
Enoch Whipple, over 60 years of age,
who was the first deaf mute taught
( 0 speak in this country, read a chapter
from Jeremiah, and related how m early
childhood he had learned the powei of
gpeech fr o m watching the movements of
i,i* father s lips. whjch thp
As a test ot wh ipple
system has been’ ^ j£af
had the ng ‘ had a
boy mterpret his , ltteranoee ^ br watch
mg the shadows made on the wsU by
lips.
Fonvardlug Garden Tegefaftleg.
When the gardener gives a plant a
special advantage the result of which is
to cause it to produce or mature earlier
than it otherwise would, he is said to
“forward” it. Tomatoes will bear long
before frost, if the seeds are sown in the
open ground. By sowing seeds in a hot¬
bed and raising the plants the tomato is
forwarded. I! the seeds were sown last
fall, and the plants kept in a hot-house
to produce fruit in the early spring, that
would be “forcing.” Cucumbers are
forced under glass, but they may also
be forwarded. For illustration: to for¬
ward the oucumber, fill some four-inch
pots with fine, rich soil, sow half a dozen
cucumber seeds iu each and set the pots
in a hot-bed, or stand them in a box
which can be set on the sill of the kitch¬
en window. Another method of starting
the seeds, if a good piece os turf can be
had, is this: Take up a thick, strong sod
and fit it to a shallow box with the
grassy side down. The sides of the box
need not be over three inches high.
With a strong knife, cut the sod into
squares, which should be according to
the size of the box, three or four inches
square. Cut quite down through the
grass roots and tops to the bottom of
the box, to make sure that the pieces
can be separated readily. Sow several
seeds in the earth of each piece
of sod, which is of course bottom or
earth-side up. Set this box o! sods in
the window or in a hot-bed, aa directed
for the pots. Either pols or sods must
be watered as needed. When the seeds
are up and the plants begin to show
their rough leaves, remove all but two or
three in each pot, or piece of sod. Do
not pull out the extra plants, as it will
disturb the roots of those which are to
be left, but out them off with a knife, or
pinch them off with the thumb and fin¬
ger nails, close to the ground.
When the weather is settled, prepare
well manured hills in the garden. Set
the pots in a pail or tub of blood-warm
water and let them soak until the earth
in them is wet through. Take them
out and let them drain for an hour or
two, when the ball of earth, with the
cucumber roots, may be removed from
the pot with a slight knock, and set in
the hill, pressing the soil well around it.
If the cucumber plants are on pieces of
sods, about a week before planting out
these, run a knife along the outs made
at the beginning, before the seeds were
sown. Some of the grass roots may
have grown across from one piece to an¬
other; this will sever them, also any cu¬
cumber roots that have grown out of
bounds. In planting these, set the sod
containing the plants in the hill, letting
it be an inch or so below the surface,
and press the soil to it firmly. There
should be prepared, beforehand, some
frames or bottomless boxes over each
hill of plants, and leave it there a few
days. After this, on warm and pleasant
mornings, remove the frame, setting it
on that side of the plants from which
the wind blows, to protect them. In the
afternoon, before it grows cold, cover
the frames over the plants for the night.
On ohilly days leave the frame over the
plants, lifting it on one side at the bot¬
tom, and placing a stone to hold it up.
By the time the plants become tc»o
large for the boxes, the weather will be
warm enough to expose them night *nd
day. Treated in this manner the p antt
will boar several weeks before those Iron
seed sown in the open ground. They
have been "forwarded” by sowing the
seeds under glass, or in the house; pre¬
serving them from any check, by cover¬
ing them after they were planted oat,
has also forwarded them. Attention to
watering and an occasional treat of liquid
manure will forward them still more.
Many other plants may be forwarded in
a similar manner. But closely follow
the directions given.— Agriculturist.
What a Sponge Is.
“It is only the skeleton of a sponge
that is commonly used in removing
dirt,” Prof. Bickmore says, “ A sub
stance that in the animal sponge is an
alagons to the finger nails of the human
hand. The sponges are found in vari
eras portions of the world, gathered in
masses below the surface of the water.
The youthful sponge first makes its ap¬
pearance on the outer border of the adult
iu the form of a cell, which gradually
increases in size and complexity until it
bursts through the maternal tissue and
floats at freedom through the ocean. It
ja very minute, and for a time has an
independent life. It is sowing its wild
oats, so to speak, but as it increases in
size it attatches itself to its more ma
Hire brothers and sisters and develops
with them into adult form. SjKmges
it-.' gathered by means of grappling
hooks. They are floated to inclosed
portions of the sea, where they are left
until the exposure of the 6un and tho
wash of the Bea leaves nothing but the
skeleton.”
He Wants It.—A n Arizona paper re¬
marks: “Our craven contemporary pre¬
tends that it doesn't want any office.
That is too thin, as everybody knows
how it tried to get the post, office and
taj* We don’t often boast, but we
^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
jn the wav it 6 hould be run, and what is
more, we believe we shall get it. Any -
bow. we are not afraid to say that we
want it, and will do everything we can
to teg get it. Our contemporary is •
‘ ^ ^ ^
VOL. XI, NO 24.
The Big Connecticut Baby.
The Norwalk (Oonn.) Hour prints an
interesting account of the year-old baby
who weighs seventy-five pounds. It
says:
“The mother, a slight little woman
who weighs, perhaps, twenty pounds
more than her son, tugged away at his
royal highness and finally managed to
seat him upon a lounge, and the re¬
porter was given every opportunity for
examining him. The boy has an unusu¬
ally pretty faoe, large, bright blue eyes
and light hair, which has a tendency to
curl, ilia complexion is fair and his
little nose has just enough ‘pug’ about
it to be interesting. His arms are so
large that it is with difficulty that he
can raise them to his head, while his
legs are simply great bunches of fat,
which are utterly incapable of sustaining
the weight of his body. The boy took
a great fanoy to the reporter’s hat and
rained sledge-hammer blows upon the
crown with his fists until liis mother
took it away and gave him two sad-irons
to play with. The irons weighed six
pounds each, and the boy appeared to
handle them as easily aa an athlete han¬
dles a pair of twenty-pound dumb bells.
Ho moves about on the floor with a
peculiar hitching motion that is very
amusing. He has eighteen teeth and
eats, his mother says, almost everything
excepting pastry and oandy. The boy
is bright as a dollar, very active, consid¬
ering his great weight, and well-propor¬
tioned from the top of his curly head to
the soles of his chubby feet. When
'>orn Sammy weighed between four and
ive pounds, and when three months old
he weighed only ten pounds. At the
end of six months his weight had in¬
creased to forty pounds, and now at the
age of 13 months, he weighs about
seventy-five. The father of the boy,
Mr. Henry Tompkins, is employed by
Fancher, Rusco & Co. He is a native
of Armouk, N. Y. Mrs. Tompkins was
born in Sligo, Ireland. The couple are
of ordinary height and build. They
were married in 1875, and this, their
first child, was born in Vista. The
youngster has never been sick a day.”
Took Them All In.
There is a French barber at Colum¬
bus , Texas, named La Prelle, who is
rather an eccentric genius, aud he was
on bis way to the station to meet the
train, when he was spied by five young
men. One of them named Smith, had
a six-shooter, and it was agreed that
they were all to lie quietly in wait, 8nd
that when La Prelie approached, Smith
was to confront him with his revolver
and order “Hands up !” Tho unsuspect¬
ing victim approached, and Smith, in
regular highway robber style, ordered
him lo hold his hands up. But the
barber made a dash at Smith, and by a
violent wrench of his arm secured his
pistol. He corraled Smith and his four
companions and inarched them at the
point of the revolver back to town and
telephoned from the nearest place to
the Sheriff’s office for him and his Depu¬
ties to come after them. The young
men entreated and pleaded most elo¬
quently and tried to jxplain that the
affair was only a joke, but La Prelle
would not believe it. The Sheriff con¬
fiscated the pistol of the prisoner but as
they were all yonng men of good families
he let them off on parole. They will
be tried however, in regular form, and
besides having to fee lawyers will have
to pay a fine for carrying deadly weap¬
ons.
A Tramp Defends Ladles.
Information is given of a sensatioual
occurrence near Wadesboro, N. C., on
Tuesday evening. An Irish tramp called
at a house occupied by two ladies and
asked for lodging. They at first refused
his request, but finally agreed to lock
him in a closet, where he was to remain
all night About 12 o’clock the ladies
were waked by a negro who had come
into the room, He threatened to kill
them if they made an outcry and de¬
manded money, which one of the ladies
said she would get. She then went to
the closet and unlocked the door, when
the tramp, who had heard the whole
conversation, sprang out, pistol iu hand.
The negro started to run, but the tramp
fired, killing him instantly. Shortly
after it was discovered that the supposed
negro was a white maD, who had black¬
ened himself and invaded the house.
He was recognized as a near neighbor of
the ladies.
The Giant Chang’s Fiancee.
“Yes, I am to be married,” said
Chang, “but 1 am at a loss to know bow
the report got out, as I tried to keep it
secret. The 1 atly’s name ? Oh, I
couldn’t tell you that, but will say she
resides in Kansas City, Mo., and is
worth over 8200,000, She is very large,
being six feet six inches in height and
weighs two hundred and fifty pounds.
Her father didn’t relish the prospect of
a Chinese son-in-law, but has finally
consented on condition that I don’t take
his daughter to China. So I have prom¬
ised to remain in America and start a
tea store, probably in Philadelphia. You
know I and my brothers own a tea plan¬
tation in China. When I do beoome an
American resident I think they ongbt
to let me vote. You Bee I am so large
bulidose me. z
1
STRAY BITS OF ITOMOR
FOUND in THE JOKERS’ BUDGETS
OF OUR PAPERS.
Very Sweet TUInnu-Belween the Acts—Pre
paring lor the Vlrlt—The Level-Header
{Merchant, Etc., Etc.
PREPARING FOR IT. *
Mr. De Style—My dear, you know
this is Lent ?
Mrs. De Style—Of course.
“And it is not the thing to go to the
theatre ?”
“Certainly not”
“Nor the opera ?
“No.”
“Nor any other expensive place of
amusement ?”
“Exactly.”
“And no one can complain if the diet
of the family is of the very simplest de
scription ?”
“Of course not; but I know all this,
and am sure we have not made a mis¬
take in way of these ways. What are
you drivmg at, any how V’
“I was thinking, my dear, it would
be a good time to invite Uncle Jake’s
fami’y to leave the farm and make us a
visit You know we mnst go there
agi.in this summer.”— Phila. CalL
HE DIDN T MARRY FOR BEAUTY.
“I hear that Swarkins is married
again.”
“Yes, he’s hitched again for a fact.”
“Have you seen his wife?”
“Yes.”
“Is she good-looking ?”
“Oh, no; Bhe’s a very plain body, but
as strong as an ox. You see, he didn’t
care so much for beauty. What he
wanted was a woman who could dig
potatoes and make them youngsters of
his walk the chalk.”
WHERE THEY HAVE THE BEST OF US.
Life must be very pleasant in the
Congo. Instead of a man having to
rush home at 1 p. M. to give his wife
four hours’ time to prepare for the opera
aud then wait another half hour on the
front steps until the two hundred and
odd forgotten things are found and ar¬
ranged, the Congo husband strolls home
a few minutes before the performance
begins and simply says, “Sarah, adjust
your hairpin. We will go to the opera.”
—Pittsburgh Telegraph.
THE PROPHET.
“Go in there, El Mahdi," said the
doctor, who lived opposite the roller¬
skating rink, as be placed a two-dollar
bill in his wallet whioh he had just re¬
ceived from a skater for dressing his
scalp.
“El Mahdi 1” exclaimed the patient,
“why do you call the bill El Mahdi ?”
“Because it is the fall’s profit, you
know,’ replied the doctor, as he smil¬
ingly showed the patient out .—Boston
Courier.
BETWEEN THE ACTS
“Too bad I had to go out to 6ee that
ticket-seller about seats for next week,”
he remarked to his new wife as he set¬
tled himself down after a trip down
stairs between acts, “The affair quite
slipped my mind as we came in. Were
you annoyed, my dear?”
“Oh, no I I didn’t mindin the least,
tlianK yon. I was quite busy working
out a mental problem.”
“Aud what was that, love?”
“Why they call the front curtain the
drop.”
“I see. Did you succeed ?”
“Yes, I think I got the correct an¬
swer. ”
“And that was”
"Because so many men go out for
drop when it is down, my dear.”—
Detroit Journal.
A LEVEL-HEADED MERCHANT
The merchant now devises
A plan brisk trade to wio
He straightway advertises
And rakes the shiekels in
—Boston Courier.
W HAT SHE WANTED TO HEAR.
“And so you like the yarns we sea
dogs spin?’’ asked the gallant young
mariner.
“1 dote on them,” the young ladi
passionately responded.
“And what shall I tell you of the
doings of our salts ?” he tenderly asked.
“Oh, tell me how you luff,” she inno
cently answered.—Pittsburgh Chronicle.
OFF IT GOES.
Stolid proprietor of German restau¬
rant to new waiter—Dot letter for you,
eh ? You was der Baron von Schinkel
berg? Mein
New waiter, meekly — Yes,
Herr.
Stolid proprietor—Den you wasn t no
.•eckuiar waiter, eh? Veil, dake a dol¬
lar a veek off your vages .—Puck,
AN INTERNATIONAL EPISODE.
A German went into a restaurant, and,
as he took his seat an Irish waiter came
up and bowed politely.
“Wie Geht’s,” said the German, also
oowing politely.
“Wheat cakes,” shouted the waiter,
mistaking the salutation for an order.
“Nein, nein 1” said the German.
“Nine ?” said the waiter. “You’ll be
lucKy if you get three.”— N. ¥. Sun.
A SEA VOYAGE.
“Is there a remedy for seasickness,
doctor ?”
“Not altogether, but it can be greatly
relieved. Do you want it for yourself?”
“Yes; I am a naval officer, and under
the new order of things I may have to
leave Washington.”