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AN DEE SON & W ALLIS, Proprietors
A Morning Call.
JVhen she spied him coming
She wore a Verohicf round her head,
jjar papered curls to hide.
The flounces on her skirts were torn,
Her ilippare were untied,
Her jacket wonted buttons, and
qwas not exactly clean,
Aud through her worn-out slcevos quite plain
Her elbows could be seen.
When she received him
Rpon her brow ter fluffy hair
tike tangled sunshine lay,
Her pretty Mother Hubbard gown
Was rich in ribbons gay,
Her little shoes were decked with bows,
Some meadow flowers clung
Near her fair throat, and from her side
A small scent-bottle hung.
Jlnd it’s a sure thing
That never yet for conjuror
Did quicker change be tall,
Than that young man evoked who came
To make a morning call.
—Philadelphia JVcws.
An Uncommon Proceeding.
'■now cold it is growing,” said Miss
Wait, the teacher of the common
school in the then brisk little manu¬
facturing village of Shattuckville, as
she tied on her soft blue hood, button¬
ed her warm flannel cloak, looked at
the window-fastenings of the not over
commodious or attractive but snug
schoolroom, locked her desk, and care¬
fully shut the damper of the air tight
wood stove, preparatory to quitting
her domain of labor for the night.
As she picked up her rubber over¬
shoes and stooped to draw them over
her shapely kid boot, she cogitated:
“Oh, dear! Tommy Ilowe’s red
toes sticking so pathetically through
those old gaping shoes fairly haunt
me. I wonder if, in all this prosper
ous, busy village, there is no way of
getting that poor child decently clad,
I must think it over and see what I
can do about it.”
Twenty-four hours later the leading
man of the village, and the owner cf
the little factory there, who, years be
fore, when a poor b«y, had stranded
flown from Vermont to this little
hamlet, eccentric and brusque, but
kind-hearted, keen-eyed, and observ
ant of all that was going on within
his domain, was walking along the
street and met a bright-eved and
sprightly lad of 10 speeding ahead
with that amusing, unconscious,. con
sequential air that a boy curries with
his first brand-new pair of boots.
“Old Sam” Whittier, as this gentle
man was familiarly cailed, not by
reason of advanced age by any means,
but because of his supremacy as the :
mill-owner and employer of all the |
help in the hamlet, took in the situa
tion at a glance, and called out to the
absorbed child,
“Hullo, youngster! where d’ye get
them fellers?” j
“Teacher gave them to me, sir,” and :
the lad’s tattered cap came quickly off, I
and he stood with it in his hand.
“Does she buy boots for all the boys
In the school?” lie growled out.
“Guess not; but she bought Joe
Briggs a speller and Jane Cass an
arithmetic, and she gives away stacks
of slate-pencils and paper and ink, and
such things.”
“What made her go and buy them
nice boots for you ?”
“She said she wanted to, sir; and
when 1 said I had no money to pay
her for them, she said she'd rather be
paid in perfect lessons; and I will try
my best to pay for them in that way,
fou may he sure, sir.”
“Pretty good sort of a teacher, is
«be, bub?”
“Gh, yes, indeed! I guess she must
he the best teacher that ever lived, sir
—she tells us about so many things
that we never knew before; and she
wants us to bo good and honest and
not tell lies, and she says we shall be
men and women by and by, and she
wants us boys to know something so
we can own factories our own selves
some time. The other teachers we’ve
bad only heard our lessons and let us
go. but she’3 so different!”
‘‘Well, well, bub. I shall have to
think this business over a little. Now
run along, and go to scratchin’ over
i!i em ‘perfect lesson?.’ I don’t sup
pose you’ll find a person in Shattuck
vi " e a better judge of perfect lessons,
Pr h°'v much they are worth, both to
••■e teacher and to the scholar, than
Ohl Sam’ Whittier, So, bub, look
after your ways, and I shall look after
you.”
lhe next morning a little note writ
W in a coarse business hand was
a,3 patched to the teacher by the hand
cf one of the children. It as fol
loff ran
s:
~ dlss Wait: I have heard of some
r .
er uncommon proceedings on your
j- ar , a8 a teacher scholars,
ld toward your
ally ul, like to inquire of you person
as to Particulars. AVill you do
m he favor . to to house
run over my
U 1 telly after the close of 3 your school
“ 8 afternoon.
“SAMt-EL AVhittier.”
"What can I have doie?” thought
fhat li tt i e teacher, in such a peturbed
state of mind that she corrected John-
Slie CotJittfl '.V Star.
™ my., m V tadTd lultT
hand he,!„ gl „ g : g ,hl l e n 7 primary y ■
class was stretched up in a frenzy of
excitement. “Let me see; what is it
I have done the past week? I switch
ed Bobbie Baker pretty smartly, to be
sure—and I kept Sam Woodruff after
school—and I kept Marion Fisk in
from recess for whispering; but I must
keep order. Well, dear me, I have
tried to do my duty, and I won’t wor
ry; and Miss Wait resolutely went
back to “seven times nine,’’ and so
proceeded in the usual routine.
But she ate no dinner that noon,
and had a decided headache as she
crossed the big bridge over the hill to
the mill-owner’s residence.
“I shall not back down in anything
where my clear duty and self-respect
are involved,” thought she. “1 have
set up a certain ideal as to what a
teacher of these little common schools
ought to be, and I will, God and my
mind, good courage and health not j !
forsaking me, bring myself as near to
it as possible. Moreover, l will not
consider, in the premises, whether the
scholars are children of the rich or
learned, or of the poor or ignorant.
For the time being God has placed in
my care ragged, dirty little w'retches
of a factory village, as well as clean
’
well-dressed, attractive children.”
“Good evening, good evening,
ma’am,” said “Old Sam” Whittier, in
his gruff way, meeting the teacher at i
the door. “As 1 said in my note to
you, 1 heard to-day of some rather un
common proceedings on your part. I
saW( ma’am, little Tommy Howe in a
new j, a j r 0 f Hoots this morning. Do
y0 u know how he came by them?”
“I bought them for him, Mr. Whit
tier” wondering whether the local
magail te suspected the poor child of
stealing 6
“Oh, you did! Are you in the habit
of furnishing your scholars with such
articles? AVas the providing of boots
a part of your business contract witli
the committee? If it was, I can put
you in tho way of buying boots at
wholesale in Boston, where I get my
supply for my store.”
“It will not be necessary, sir,” ro
plied the teacher, with dignity. “1
thank you for your kind offer, how
ever.”
“Why did you furnish boots in this
particular case, if I may inquire?”
“The lad is very poor. Ilis mother
has her hands full with the smaller
children. Tommy is learning rapidly;
I £e e marks of rare intelligence in him.
It would be a pity to have him taken ,
out of school at this time when he is
so much engaged. Should he contin
ue coming clad as he was in such
weather as this he would be ill soon,
I could not take the risk in either
case.”
“Are you able to let your heart get
the better of you in this way ?”
“I have my wages only,” replied the
young woman, with dignity.
“Then you probably will have to
retrench not a little in your own ex¬
penses.”
“if I do it will harm no one’s purse
or pride but my own. In this instance
it may be the matter of a pair of
gloves or an ostrich tip with me.
With him the little act may make a
difference that shall be lasting through
time and eternity.”
••You have been attending that
school over to South Hadley, I hear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you been through it, or grad¬
uated, as they call it?”
“Oh, no; I have attended but two
terms, But 1 am fully determined to
complete the course.”
“Hum—all right. Miss At ait, you
seem to be doing some good work
among the children over the river
there, I am going to think it all
over; but look here—if any more of
; let
those little rascals need boots, me
know. I shall consider it a privilege
to provide them, You know I can
obtain them at wholesale—ha! ha!
and the now greatly relieved teacher s
interview with the mill-owner ended.
“If she goes on teaching on and off,
and then taking a term on and off at
Mount Holyoke, she can’t graduate
for years.” ruminated Old Sain " b *t
' tripping on
tier, as he watched her
over the hill; “it’s ridiculous.”
And so it came to pass, when Miss
Wait was paid her small salary at the
end of the term, she found in the e
velope containing tho on er on
town treasurer a check with a s ip
er pinned to it, reading thus:
pa p
“This may be an uncommon pro
ceeding, but I tbdught l o ‘ C
have concluded that you ha
right along in your studies a 1
Radley until you R rad “ ate : ^
and . 1
that, with your pluck invest 1 ’
you will be able to m
i^oks, or in any way you see fit
Very truly WgiTTIEK .«
sketchi ith i
little „ w
I leave th.s true
out comment. It carr es
COVINGTON, GEORGIA WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 1885.
,nd b '"”' *»'“» l»«
h '‘ P ‘" g »«•
Grant’s Type.
“Gath” says in an article on General
Grant in the Cincinnati Enquirer: In
the great men of the past we find
none of the type of General Grant,
Cromwell and Wellington suggest no
resemblance to him either in origin or
temperament. Among modest heroes
like Admiral De liuyter he might be
classified but for the supreme honors.
he has attained. It was told of I)e
Ruyter that on the morning after a
battle of four days a visitor found him
sweeping his cabin and feeding "with his
chickens; and “when decorated
honors and titles by every Prince of
Europe he never in the slightest de
gree overcame his innate modesty.”
Both De Ruyter, who was taken out
of a rope-yard, and Grant, out of a
tannery, were sincere republicans,
graduated by a sense of duty that sup
P resse d all restless, vulgar ambition.
Grant is tbe earliest fruit of that per
f ect ed and simplified republicanism
which was seeded and ripened beyond
the Ohio river. He is not only Amor
ican > but North-western. People w r ho
are seeking in him traces of the old
Colonial gentry, like Washington, are
ignorant of their country and its ex
pansion. What Washington hut dim
ly conceived the age and locality of
Grant have fully realized—a powerful
democracy and its home heroes. lie
was born on the public land, went t*
land-endowed Public Schools, and was
the son on both sides of pioneers. The i
whole machinery of the Federal Con
stitution and the statutes of the gov- ,
ernmentoftho North-western Terri
tory had gone into operation when he
came upon the stage. No other Presl
dent exce Pf Lincoln bad b <* a exclu- j
sively Western grown, and Lincoln
was born in Kentucky, though of
Pennsylvania descent
Grant’s stock is Puritan and Penn
sylvanian. He is of English Puritan ‘in
stock, which came to this countrv
1680, ten years after the Pilgrim °
Fathers
New Theories Abant Eating.
Dr. R. M. Hodges, once read a paper
before the Boston Society for Medical
Improvement, in which he touched on
this question upon which doctors disa¬
gree, and said: “It is a common im¬
pression that to take food immediately
before going to bed and to sleep is un¬
wise. Such a suggestion is answered
. a remindbr that the i nst inct of ani
malg prompts them to s i eep as soon as
t[)ey have eaten: and in summer an
a f ter . ( | lnner nap- esp ecially when that
meal is taken at mid-day, is a luxury
indulged in by many. If the ordinary
hour of the evening meal is six or
seven o’clock, and of the first morning
meal 7 or 8 o’clock, an interval of |
t we!ve hours, or more, elapses nutri- with-j
out food, and for persons whose
tion is at fault this is altogether too
long a period of fasting. That such
an interval without food is permitted
explains many a restless night, and
much of the head and backache, and
the ianguid, half-rested condff ion on
rising, wine
appetite for breaxidsi. This meal • it- ! ■
It is, therfore, desirable, mo -
tial.whennuteiment u tolw crowi e^
that the ast thing before go „ b d
should be the.taking
lessness is often c - '
and a tumbler of milk,
middle of the “>«“* ** ^
people to sleep when yp w
fail of their purpose oo ’
ing is equally importan P J
It supplies strength ior Dam g
dressing, hiborious ant w ea j
tasks for the underfed, aild |
morning ‘picic-me-up ‘ ‘ r
‘ tonic -’”
A Trick in the Toffee Trade. I
New methods of imposing upon the
trade are continually being discovered.
things Factitious by the strength addition is 8*® £ ^ jome ‘ ’
low grades are being m xe 8
grades, and imitations of PI
names are very common. The las
dodge is in the coffee trade.
new glossy
Every buyer likes to have a
bean, but of course as the beans grow
old a part of this glossiness disappears,
and the purchaser can tell that what is
shown him has been gathered a long
time. Modern ingenuity cannot thus
be put to fault. The coffee beans o
an old stock are placed in a revo.ving
with a few drops of cotton
seed oil, and the cylinder is then set in
motion. The small quantity of oil thus
introduced restores the coffee to its or
iginal appearence, and the manipulator
sell his consignment for a cent
can could the day
more a pound p than he
before. The fraud can be detected by
putting a number of beans into a In oof-j
fee cup and filling it with water. a
' film of oil
minutes there will be a
l6 "tha Enquirer.
^ surface.— Com.
LAND OF THE ESQUIMAUX.
Some Traits of the People in
the Arctic Regions,
A Savaee Race who Can Draw Maps and
Have Tremendous Appetites,
A\ riting about the Esquimaux in
the New l'ork Times Lieut. Schwatka
says: “ They are rud e topographical
en b ria eers as well as sculptors, and are
extremel y good map makers for such
unken H>t savages. Nearly every white
man ’ ex P lorer or otherwise who has
visited their country ami associated
witb them speaks of this trait being
very eonspicious in them. It seems
es P eci aHy well developed in the worn
® a ’ although many of the men, from
their 8 reater amount of ipurneyings
over acd around a country* are often
in a P osi tion to make more accurate
drawin S 3 in tb e details or particular
P laces> I have had several occasions
to use tbem as map makers, and find
tbeir rude charts quite accurate, good
eno,, gh at least to enable me to recog
D * ze tbe P laces 1 was trying to make
oub These propensities for drawing
and carving have often been utilized
by ethnologists to show the origin of
this great family or race which caps
tbt) North American Continent. Noth
in g 80 pleased the little ones of the
Innuits as a pencil and a clean piece
of P a P er 011 which they could draw,
and quite often we would find a group
of these s P endin g hours in producing
fearful hieroglyphics, until the sheet
i ooked bke a pattern sheet from a la
d,es ’ ^ asbion magazine, The nautical
tduaanacs and books of tables for the
P arty were profusely ornamented with
tbe3e rude drawings, and the more im
P orta nt records only escaped a similar
fate by being kept under lock and key
not used by “«•
lhe ornamental displays In the sew
. tbe those which
women are are
confined to the limited varieties of
C(dors to be found on tne seal and
reindeer - The fur of tho latter in its
P rime is in th ® darkest colored ani '
nials quite a g lossy bIacl; on the back,
the llanks and belly bettg white, and
between these extremes found. every shade j
of gray can be The skin of
the former is tanned in two ways, one
of which makes it black, the other a
dirty white, and their best sewers
combine these furs and skins in de
signs .often quite intricate, and not
without pleasing effect. None of the
men or boys knowmuch about sewing,
although I doubt if like other savages
they consider it degrading, in so many
thing 3 do they assist their women
with their work. As a war party is
wholly unknown among them, and
these are the only kinds of parties
among most savages unaccompanied
b Y women, it is seldom that the In¬
nuits have not their footgear in the
very best condition, and somebody al
ways with them to keep it so should
g et otherwise,
One of the duties of the Esquimau
women is to chew the hides of th#
ook-jook (great seal) that are intended
for the soles and footcovering of the
, t A ..
‘ ’
^ ^ be g een feug engag ed Jn
almost every tent or snowhouse. By
..re old crones and too
. , their t th are
wom dcnvn aImo ; t to their gums with
^ ^ ^
often do this labor as a pastime while
emp i 0 y e d at some other work which
requires about half the attention
an d the use of one hand, as cooking,
leaving the other hand free to roll the
t bolus of sea l leather around in
the mouth, that keeps opening and
shuttIn _ aU day w ith the regularity of
^ w j nt j m ill pump, and with just such
spasmo dic variations, according to the
iutensity of the mental wind.
it would hardly do for one to
jne that an Esquimau could tire his
j awg witb sagging them, so constant
do some of them keep them going
in eating their almost continual
es of raw frozen meat anl hot tidbits
from the stone kettle hanging over the
lamp. As an example of their
enorm0 u 3 appetite, an Esquimau boy,
gupplied R y Capt. Ferry, of the royal
navy( while w intering among them,
devoured in one day over 10 pounds
o£ so ji d food and drank of tea, coffee,
and wa ter over a gallon and a half.
A man 0 f the same tribe, (one^ of
tl , ose no t far from Norta Hudson Bay,
wbe re I wintered,) ate 10 pounds of
gol j d material, which included a couple
f candleSi and drank of various liq
ujdg a gal i on an d a half, and these'
peop ] e were only about ! to 4.V feet in
j ie jgRt- I might give some instances
in my own party, but being a practi
^ convert to the theorj of the neces- j
s R y of considerable food in that cli- j
ma t e I shall desist.
The Esquimaux have often been ac-'
cused of eating tainted meat. This is
tfU6 to a limited extent. The fat
meat3 0 f seal and walrus are stored
away in the Summer for future use,
and this fut is a true preservative,
never allowing the meat to go beyond
rancidity, that is to putrefaction, and
no more in that state than is caviar,
and some kinds of game and cheese.
All the lean meats, such as reindeer
or musk oxen, are generally disposed
of immediately in the warm Summer
and only put in caches after freezing
weather has come on. The general
impression of people is that they
drink oil (rendered from fats) of all
kinds almost as copiously as we drink
water, and yet I have seldom seen
them do this, and understand that it
is only done to avert starvation, except
salmon oil. I doubt if they use as
much oil as some civilized nations.
In the shape of huge chunks of blub¬
ber from the whale, seal, or walrus,
they consume enormous quantities,
but to drink it in the pure state, or to
even use it as a dressing for any other
cooking, is very rare indeed. The
Esquimaux in and around tha mouth
of Black’s Great Fish River catch
quantities of fat salmon, and a great
deal of oil is obtained from these fat
fish. This oii I have seen them drink
and have soused it myself. About
the middle of December, 1879, In our
midwinter sledge journey from the
Arctic Sea to Hudson Bay, our supply
of toodnoo (reindeer fat) ran very
low, and so did the thermometer, and
we noticed the disappearance of our
fatty food very conspicuously in the
greater effort that was necessary to
keep warm. After matters had been
running this way two or three days,
one of my Innuit sledgemen came to
me and showed me a couple of recep
tacles, being reindeer bladders, each
holding nearly a quart of salmon oil,
and poured me out a gill of the stuff
from one, which he told me to drink
to drh ’° away tbe f d ' My re P u «
nance for the odor I soon overcame,
knowing the usual after effect, and 1
downed the dose as an old toper would
his morning drink, but with a horrible
grimace. I might add that the effect
of war;r,th - a Peasant glow all over
the body, was apparent about as soon
as if 1 had taken that amount of alco
hoi, although one would imagine that
the oil would have to digest according
to known laws of assimilation before
producing warmth. Several times af
terward I repeated the agreeable dose,
and always found the same effect of
genial warmth.
Grant’s Peculiarities
In battle or in command ho wore a
blue blouse and no sword, a plain
slouch hat, dark trousers, and top
boots. Even his horse equipments
did not indicate his rank. When he
went to Europe in 1878 he was com¬
pelled to buy a new uniform, as his
old one was worn out. He bought
but three while general of the army.
At table he ate but little, and tlni't of
the plainest, and in the latter years of
his life used no wine. As an escort
for ladies, the assurance of one of the
brightest and most lovely women who
lias graced Washington social life, that
“General Grant was the most accepta¬
ble of all the escorts she had ever had
at dinner,” is warrant enough for the
statement that he was a gentleman in
social life and at the table. He was
ent >rely a moral man, never using
for vice and immoral men. He was
fond of children and they of him-be
caHSe o£ positive evidences of benevo
lenco of both head and heart - 1Ie
stood fatl g«e readily, and could go
without food or sleep for a long time,
On horseback ho sat easily and rode
with grace—as West Point men usual
J >' do - Ite bad a k( *n memory for
tb ose who abused him, either by
s P et ‘ ch or iu the P re3 ». and never for
g ot theln . He hated and liked with
manly vi g‘>r. bad one old-time
virtue, fast becoming obsolete, devel
°P ed in tlie hi « hest — he liked h? 3
fri ™ ds and would stand by them.
Ha'Mphi a Press.
A Mpxican policeman
The police system of the city of
Mexico beats anything in America.
A Mexican policeman is a strong, fine
] 00 king young man, wearing a military
uniform and openly displaying a six
s h 0 oter. He does not spend bis time
v .- ai king the sidewalk, lost to sight in
a erow l of people. Ilis beat is the
m j d dle of the street, where he can see
and be sccn . Hedges not dodge
hides, but makes them dodge him.
No nonsense is tolerated, and the po
Uce rat!ier en j oy a row . They keep
S pi, ; ndid order- Wheeling Register.
Near ami Yet so Far.
Dainty Dude- “Melinda.liowdidyou
like my serenade last night i
Melinda —“I didn’t like your posi
tion.
“My position ? My attitude, you
mean."
-No, your position. You weren’t
for enough away for me not to bear
y0 u, and you weren't close enough
or me to scald you.”— Call,
VOL. XL NO, 51.
CHILDREN’S COLUMN.
Endorous tells the tale that la
Pangseura, in Thrace, a bear attacked
the hair of a lion, while it was un¬
guarded, and killed the cubs that were
too small and too weak to defend
themselves. And when the father
and mother came home from hunting
somewhere, and saw their children
lying dead, they were much aggrieved,
and attacked the bear; but she was
afraid, and climbed up a tree as fast
as she could, and settled herself dow;n,
trying to avoid the attack. Now,
when they saw that they could not
avenge themselves on her, the lioness
did not cease to watch the tree, but
sat down in ambush at the foot, eye¬
ing the bear that was covered with
blood. But the lion, as it were, with¬
out purpose and distraught with grief,
after the manner of a man, rushed off
to the mountains, and chanced to light
upon a wood-cutter, who, in terror,
let fall his axe; but the lion fawned
upon him, and reaching up saluted
him as well as he could, and licked his
face with his tongue. And the man
took courage. Then the lion encir¬
cled him with his tail, and led him,
and did not suffer him to leave his
axe behind, but pointed with his foot
for it to be taken up. And when the
man did not understand he took it up
in his mouth and reached it to him.
Then he followed while the lion led
him to his den. And when the lioness
saw him she came up and made signs,
looking at the pitiable spectacle, and
then up at the bear. Thou the man
perceived and understood that the
lion had suffered cruel wrong from the
bear, and cut down the tree with
might and main. And the tree fell,
and the lions tore the bear in pieces;
but the man the lion led back again,
safe and sound, to the place where he
lighted on him, and returned him to
the very tree he had been cutting.—
Popular Science.
Dividing with Grandpa.
Lulie was as bonny a little lassie as
ever wore blue eyes and shiny curls
and a white dress, with ruffles and a
sash.
In the summer she went to see her
grandfather. She had been there be¬
fore, but it was a year ago, and she
didn't remember anything about it,
except that they had a squatty dog,
which sat up and said, “Wough!”
when he wanted something to eat.
And a cat that scratched her when she
patted it. And that the bedrooms
smelled of dried rose leaves. And that
grandfather always had nuts imhis
pockets, and a watch that snapped very
loud.
She was a little afraid of grand¬
father at first, but lie was so kind and
pleasant that she was soon sitting on
his knee, playing with his long white
beard. Then she began to look very
hard at his head. She thought it
looked very strange indeed.
“Oh, poor grandpa! What’s ee mat¬
ter wis ou’s head? Where is all ou’s
hair gone?”
“Why, Fussy,” lie said, laughing, “I
have lived so long that my hair is all
worn out.”
Lulie felt very much concerned
j about it. She stood up on his lap and
i peeped over his head to see how far
his forehead went back. It went back
ed the few white hairs on his temples
with a feeling that something ought
to be done about it.
Her own hair covered her head am
; hung down in long curls. It seemed
j to her that she had a great deal more
than her share.
“I’ll div ou’ some o’ mine, ganpa,”
she said, very earnestly,
“Will you? I’ll take a curl now,
then,” he said, and he took out his pen¬
knife and cut off a little curl which
put in his pocket-book,
“No, no,” said Lulie; “I’ll 'vide even
wis’on!”
j Rut mamma said, “Run away and
j play now, dear,” and grandpa slipped
| some nuts in her pocket and set her
: down.
But LuIie wen t very soberly up to
ber mamraa . s room . IIa i £ an hour
afterward she came back with a face
a n smiles and dimples,
“Here’s’ou’s s’are, him’. ganpa!” she cried,
runn ing up to Her short dress
wa3 held up in both hands—full of
bright hair.
Everybody stared in dismay,
what woful havoc mamma’s scissors
had p i ayed with the sunshiny curls!
() n one side they waved as before,
but on the other they were unevenly
sn i pp ed off to the very crown of her
I head.
j Mamma looked as if she hardly
knew w hether to laugh or cry. But
grandpa gathered the darling, hair and
■ all, into Ills arms with such a hug as
as she bad never felt before.
Lulie’s curls have grown iohg again,
but I think they might grow down to
her feet before grandpa will ever for
get how she cut half of them off to
cover his dear old bald head.— Youth'
Companion.
Hope*
Storm overhanging
Darkens the plaint
Silenoe most dismal
Burdens the brain.
The wind that passes
Over the marsh
Sounds in the grasses
Sullen and harsh.
Down thro’ the darkness
Cutting its way,
Gleams from the heavens
One single ray.
There in the tempost,
Threatened witli blight,
One simple flower
Sparkles with light!
-~Richard L. Dawson in the Current
HUMOROUS.
j Hooking and lying are the fisher¬
man’s crying sins.
A cyclone is like a waiter. It car¬
ries everything before it.
| The bird family must have a jolly
time—they have so many larks.
The burglar, liko his friend the phi¬
losopher, “takes everything as it
comes.”
“O where does beauty linger?” de¬
manded a Quaker City poetess. As a
usual thing, she lingers in the parlor
until her mother has cleaned up the
kitchen.
Of the seven successful candidates
for the Presidency during the past
twenty-eight years live are dead, while
of the seven unsuccessful aspirants
five are alive.
i There’s a farmer boy in Ohio, who
has the making of a “funny man” in
him. He recently wrote an ede to the
dead mother of his pet lamb, and
called it a “Ewe logy.”
A witty paragrapher has relieved
his mind by saying that "Miss Liber¬
ty” will not be lonesome way down
on Bedloe’s island; she will be out
with the “buoys,” you know.
In Kentucky a bolt of lightning cut
the rope by which a mule was tied
without scorching a hair. Lightning
takes terrible risks sometimes; but
this was the most foolhardy thing the
electric fluid ever did. Next time it
may not get off so easily.
Currency of the Cannibal Islands.
Mr. Walter Coote lias described
some curious moneys of the New He¬
brides and tho Solomon Islands. On
one of the islands he noticed a neatly
kept house, which he was told was the
money-house. Entering it, lie found
a number of mats hanging from tho
roof, beneath which a fire was con¬
stantly kept up, under the effect of
which they became covered with a
black glistening coating and adorned
with festoons of soot. It w r as a man’s
business to keep the fire always burn¬
ing, and so low as not to scorch the
mats. A well-colored mat is worth
about as much as a well-grown vigo¬
rous boar, This is the strangest of
all kinds of money, for it must never
be taken from the money-house, even
when the title is transferred from one
owner to another. The inhabitants of
Santa Cruz Island use for money,
rope-ends, about an inch thick, and
ornamented with a scarlet feathers,
which are worn about the waist. The
traveler could not obtain new coins of
of this kind, but found them current
everywhere. The specimens he bought
were already did, and the feathers
grown dingy. The money of the Sol¬
omon Islands oonsists of neatly work¬
ed pieces of shell of about the size of
our shirt-buttons. They are strung
on strings about four yards long, and
are distinguished under the names of
red and white money. Dog-teeth are
ol higher value, and comparable to
our gold coins. They are usually
worn on a string around the neck.
Mr. Coote saw a necklace of this kind
that was valued at about one hundred
dollars. Marble rings are also worn
on the breast for ornaments, and as
valuable money.
The Man with the Camellia.
“L’llomme au Camellie” (Tho Man
with the Camellia) is the heading a
French paper gave lately to a sketch of
one of the many original figures to be
seen on the Parisian boulevard.
Though invariably clad in the shab¬
biest attire—for excellent reasons—the
’ttdividual in question is never without
a magnificent white camellia at his but¬
ton-hole. A year-or two ago he had, it
seems, a rare run of luck at the green
table, and with eccentric prudence, he
determined to ensure, in the season of
his prosperity, that, whatever priva¬
tion the turn of fortune’s w heel might
Awing with it, he should never want
for his favorite flower. He asked his
flmruste one day accordingly what sum
sbe ' TOub * take to supply him with a
' vhite cat » , ' llia every da y for the rest of
b * s amoun f fixed upon a
,
ver - considerable one, as may be sup
P osed was paid on the spot, and now
the ruined gamester struts daily along
the asph^t, rejoicing in th'e possession
of a camellia worth rather more than *
the coat it adorns.