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iUiDERSON 4 W&LLIS, Proprietors.
Two ltoo mg ,
I.
Ba beautiful room wit a tinted walls,
bust, whet* the e< stored sunshine falls,
.A lace h ons bed jth a satin fold, *
> lovely room, b’J bine and gold
Anil euu'ji.
n.
qua 1 nt old too <m w ;t), ra ftera bate,
sin all white bed, a rocking chair,
t r Aik, a Gtulk where a flower had been,
jl open door and all within
Content.
— Good Housekeeping.
LITTLE KATE AND I.
^■We Sarry didn’t wait for an income to
Ufa on, little Kate and I. We had
rich relations to leave us legacies or
; to send pearl necklaces, diamond orna
■Monts, or thousand dollar bonds for
Bedding presents. I was simply a
biakeman on the Eastern Michigan
railway, a long and lonely stretch of
JLountain yails over desolate marshes, steep
grades, and solitary sweeps
« prairie land; she was the bright-eyed
maitress in one of the restaurants
■long the line. But when I fell from
platform when the great accident
IB jjlup-peiied, you heard when of there the great such ac
tent, I suppose, was
I shocking loss of life—it was Katie’s
l Eire and nothing else that brought me
SMxtck into the world 1 had so nearly
Knitted for good and all!
“1 would have dono it for anybody,
Mark!" said she, when I tried to thank
Bor.
“Would you?” said I. “Bat it is n’t
(everybody line, that would have done it for
Kate!”
I So I asked her to marry me, and she
Laid yes. And I took a little cottage
La the edge of the Swampscott woods,
Lind furnished it as well as 1 could,
■with red carpet, cheesech >th curtains
[at [clock, the windows, a real Connecticut
and a set of walnut chairs that
|j [woven made myself, with s eats of rushes,
in by old Billy, the Indian, who
[carried [the his baskets and mats around
country, and Mrs. Perkins, the
[parson’s [ wife, made us a wedding cake,
and so we were married. Pretty soon
Little. I found out that Kate was pining a
“What is it, sweetheart?” said I.
“Remember, it was a contract between
us we were (( ^ i,r
from each other ! Are you not per
fectly happy ?” '
"Oh, yes, yes!” cried Kate, hiding
her face on my shoulder. “But it s
my mother, Mark. She’s ge cting rt ld,
and if I could only go East Vi se d
just once before the Lo a j her
away!”
It was then 1 felt s ting of my
poverty most. If I frusta only been a
rich man t<> haVG handed hrv out a
check, and said; “Go at ’once!" 1
think I cc j)id l)Kve been quite happy.
“Neve c mind, sweetheart,” said I,
strokir down her hair. “We’ll lay
up a dollars from month to month,
and you shall go out and see her be
fl £<z she*lies 1”
And with that little Kate was forced
do be content. But there was a hun¬
gry, homesick look upon her face
which went to my heart-to see.
One stormy autumn night we were
Bdated on the road, for the wind was
iterrible, shaking the century old pines
and oaks, as if they were nothing more
than tall swamp grasses, and driving
ithrough the ravines with a shriek and
a howl like a whole pack of hungry
wolves. And the heavy rains had
raised the streams so that we were
■compelled to go carefully and slowly
ovw the bridges and keep a long look
.ahead for fear of accidents.
I was standing at my post, in front
of the second passenger car, stamping
my feet on the platform to keep them
warm, and hoping little Kate would
not be perturbed at my long absence,
when the news agent came chuckling
out:
“We’re to stop at Stumpvillo sta
Brtu,” said he.
“Nonsense,” said I, “I know better.
This train never stops short of Wau
kensha city, least of all when we are
running to make up for lost time, as
we are to-night”
“Oh, but this is an exceptional occa¬
sion,” said Johnny Mills (which was
the newsagent’s name.) “We’re
ingto put an old woman off. She has
lost her ticket, she says. More
she never had ono. Goes on as though
she had her pockets picked.”
“Which is the one?” said I,
to look at the end window of the
which was at the rear.
“Don t you see? The old party
the back of the two fat women in
red shawls. She’s haranguing
now.”
“I see,” said I. It was a little
woman in a black silk poke bonnet,
respectable cloth cloak, bordered
ancient fur, and a long, green
who was earnestly talking and
lating with tha conductor. But
shook his head and passed on, and
sank back in a helpless little heap
hind the green veil, and I could
©lie Cotrinciton
take a small handkerchief from a
basket and put it piteously to
eyes.
“It’s too ba«v 8aid 1- “Jo) res might
that he once .had—if he
hasn’t now- a mother of his own.”
“And lose bis place on the road,”
said Mills. “No, no, old fellow, all
that sort of thing does vt >ry well to
talk about, but it don’t work in real
life.”
So he went into the nex t car, and
the signal to slack up came presently,
1 turned to Mr. Jones, the conductor
^
who just then stepped out on the pf ^
fonn.
“Is it for that old lady ? ^ saidT^ jj e
answered, “Yes.” Said I, “U.ow far
did she want to go.'* “To g wam p.
scott,” said he.
“You needn’t stop, Mr. Jones,” said
I, “I’D P a .Y lier fare '
“Youl” he echoe;,.
“Yes, I,” said I. “I’ll take her to
my own house until she can telegraph
to her friends or something. My wife
will he good to her, I know, for the
sake of her own old metier out east !”
“Just as you please,” 3aid Mr. Jones.
We did not stop at Stumpville sta¬
tion after all, but put on more steam
and ran as fast as it was safe to drive
out engine -and When, a little past
midnight, we reached Swampscott,
where we were due at 7:30, Pierre Rene,
the Frenchman, came on board to re¬
lieve m e, and I helped my old lady off
the train, fiat basket, travelling bag
and iill.
“Am I to be put off, after all?” said
sh e, with a scared look around her.
“Cheer up, ma’am,” said I, “You are
all right. Now, then—look out for
the step! Here we are.”
“Where am I?” said the old lady.
“At Swampscott, ma’am,” said J.
“And you are the kind man who
paid my fare?” said she. "But my
daughter and her husband will repay
you when—”
“All right, ma’am,” said 1. “And
now, if you’ll just hake my arm, we’ll
be home in a quarter of an hour.”
“But,” said she, “why can’t I • go
reotly to my destination?”
It’s middling late, ro-‘ , said
“and the houses don’ c stand
to shoulder .
t n Sw¬ ..mpscott My
eat neigh^ or a mile and a-half
that jk'UeHTw r Rux'mm, Jf-r-o—sTH ——
< will be glad to bid you welcome
* ,f the sake of her mother."
own
.She murmured a few words of
^
thanks, but she was old and weary,
! and the path was rough and uneven,
in the very teeth of a keen November
blast—and walking wasn’t an easy
task. Presently, we came to the little
cottage on the edge of the Swamp
scott woods, where the light glowed
: warmly through the Turkey red cur
tains ‘
“Oh, Mark, ..... ’ dearest, how late you
are? cried . . Kate, , making , . , haste to
open the door , “Come ,, in . quick, . , out
°t the wind. Supper is all ready, and
-but who is that with you?
In a hurried whisper 1 told her all.
“Did , Ido T . right, ... 8 Kate? 0 „ said ... I.
"Right, ... , , of . did, said ,, she. ,
8 ’ course vou ’
*
“Ask , . , her to come in . at once. And , I’ll T111
put another cup and saucer on the
j table.”
Tenderly I assisted the chilled and
weary old lady across the threshold.
j j “Here’s my wife,” said I. “And
here’s a cup of smoking hot coffee and
some of Katie’s own biscuits and
ckicken pie! You’ll be all right when
the cold is out of vour joints a bit I”
“You are very,‘very welcome,” said
Kate brightly, as she advanced to un¬
tie our visitor’s veil and loosen the
folds of her cloak. But, all of a sud¬
den, 1 heard a cry, “Mother, oh, moth¬
er!”
i “Hold on, Kate!” said I, with the
! coffee-pot still in my hand, as I had
been lifting it from the fire. “This is
never —”
| “But it is, Mark!” cried out Kate
! j breathlessly. “It’s mother; my own
mother! Oh, help me dearest, quickly,
| she has fainted away!”
j But she was all right again, present¬
ly, sitting by the fire with her feet on
one of the warm cushions, which Kate
j 1 had knit with wooden needles, and
drinking hot coffee. It was all true,
The unfortunate passenger whose
pocket had been picked on the train,
| and to whose rescue 1 had come, was
no other than my Kate’s own mother,
i who had determ ined to risk the perils
| of a journey to the far West to see her
child once again.
And she has been with us ever since,
the dearest old mother-in-law that
ever a man had, the comfort of our
j louse h 0 ld, and the guardian angel of
little Kate and the baby, when lam
away on my long trips.
And little Kate declares now that
she lg .. perfectl y happy’.” God bless
her—may she never be otherwise.
In Ceylon the natives cover down
' newly killed venison with honey, in
large earthen pots: these are not
opened for three years, and the jneat
so preserved is said to be of
flavor.
COVINGTON, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 20, 1880
.
Concerning €lover.
Every group of organisms, every
genus and every species of plant or
animal, has certain strong points
which enable if to hold its own in the
struggle for -existence against its com¬
petitors of every kind. Most groups
havea’ttso their weak points, which lay
them bpen to attack or extinction at
the Tiands of their various enemies.
■“ i#d these weak points are exactly the
Aies which give rise most of all to
further modifications. A species may
q,e j n its normal state as an
equilibrium between structure and en
vironing conditions. But the equilib
r ; um j 3 never quite complete; and the
points of incompleteness are just those
where natural selection has a fair
chance of establishing still higher
equilibrations. These are somewhat
abstract statements in their naked
form: let us see how far definiteness
and concreteness can be given to them
by appliyng them in detail to the case
of a familiar group of agricultural
plants—the clovers.
To most people clover is the name
of a single thing, or, at most, of two
things, purple clover and Dutch clover;
but to the botanist it is the name of a
vast group of little flowering plants,
all closely resembling one another in
their main essentials, yet all differing
infinitely from one another in two or
three strongly marked peculiarities of
minor importance, which nevertheless
give them great distinctness of habit
and appearance. In England alone
we have no less than twer Av-one -
ognized species of clover. f v * ec "
0 w iicl1 :it
least seventeen are rea’ dy *
ed among themselves w ‘Stinguish
mistakable differe’ true and un¬
er four appear t ices, though tlieoth
ist’s species, ■o nie to be mere botan
value. If of no genuine structural
whole w W’e were to take in the
the n> drld, instead of England alone,
ed * amber of clovers must be increas
f -o several hundreds. The question
.or our present consideration, then, is
twofold; first, what gives the clovers
as a class, their great success in the
struggle for existence, its evidenced by
their numerons s P ecies a,ld
j l uals; and, secondly, what has caused
them to break up into so large a num
tier of closely allied but divergent
groups, each some special
p t it ? P t iw iv^ —rrt v, «, o trrt n. i f
sured for it an advantage in certan
situtaions over all its nearest ccngen
ers?- Popular Science Monthly.
All Outdoor Insane Asylum.
The celebrated Belgian colony of tho
insane at Gheel has nothing in its ex¬
ternal appearance suggestive of the
ordinary lunatic asylum; its inhabi¬
tants give no superficial indication
that a large proportion of them are
madmen.
if one would conceive what Gheel
is, . . he must . imagine . . a town . „„ of , five or „„
(six . thousand souls, in no way different .
i from other town8 of like i mpor tance,
Slirr0unded b a number of hamlets
containing altogether, perhaps, about
as many more inhabitants. . , , The=e
people 1 , , have , been, from „ a very remote ,
period, the habit of taking . .
1 in insane
persons to . , board ...... in their houses. mi The „
lunatics live in constant contact with
the family of their host They share
in their labors and their pleasures if
so inclined and their means permit it
They come and go, in the enjoyment
of an almost absolute liberty. It has,
j h °wever, been found necessary for the
£ ood of the P at)ents aml of the settled
i organize administrative
popuiation to
1 and medical services, in order to pre¬
vent dangerous and improper persons
from being sent to the colony, and for
the care of the mental and physical
affections of the patients, and for se¬
curing to them proper accommodation
and treatment; and an infirmary has
been established for those who need
medical care. But the administration
makes very little show. The whole of
the Gheel district is an asylum; and
the streets and the surrounding coun¬
try are the promenade Monthly. of the lunatics.
—.Popular Science
Whales in Ihc Faroe Islands.
An average whale will yield meat
and blubber (which is for the most
part melted into oil) in worth about
£3 7s. (id. A herd of only 20(1 grind,
successfully landed, will therefore
be worth to the Faroese nearly £700—
no small sum, remembering that the
whole fund of the Faroe Savings Bank
stands at only 100,861 kroner (about
£6000). But, in this primitive coin
nmnity, actual money (though well
appreciated) is ol less consequence to
the people than money’s worth. The
whales supply them with a store of
meat; it is on account of this that
they are specially jubilant, Foi
months after the capture there will be
plenty of feasting in all the houses
within the district of the killing,
j Some of the meat will be roasted and
! thus eaten fresh, though most of it
^ ^ ^ • k , ed Aa to the blul.^t-r,
j g not re( j nce( j into oil will be
e( j nS umed as butter, or dried, salted,
and eaten like f at bacon in England,
Satm day Review.
Till* NATIVES OF ALASKA.i
Observations of an Amertye.n
Explorer.
How the People are Clothed, their
Dwellings and Food Supplies.
Some of the results achieved by
Lieutenant G. M. Stony’s exploring ex¬
pedition in Northern Alaska will be
found full of interest, says the New
York Herald. The following obsets
vations by Lieutenant Stony of the nap
tires, their mode of life, etc., together
with other matters in this connection,
may not prove uninteresting. He
writes:
“These people live In huts made
partly under ground and subsist prin¬
cipally upon the meats of animals, fish
and game, their vegetable supply be¬
ing limited to leaves and roots of a
few plants and a small supply of ber-‘
ries, which latter are collected during
the summer months.
“They are a healthy, hardy raoe,
comparing favorably in size with th'
white men; complexion a bright v
nette, eyes small and black and oru
even with the face, high . nearly
nose small and rather . forehead,
teeth, coarse black v fiat, excellent
very little, od 1 ' aair. They tattoo
lower lips - y a few lines on the
Wearing and chins of the women.
clusD' of the labrett is confined ex
,
<P ,ely to the men, and even they
o not all wear it. No nose ornaments
were seen, and in a few instances only
were earrings observed. All the men
are beau; less. It is said that they pull
the beard out. The. women wear the
hair long and plaited Into two braids
behind. The men also wear the hair
long and allow it to hang down, ex¬
cept in front of their faces. They go
without head covering during the
summer, and are much more cleanly
in their habits than the Tchoutches of
Siberia.
“The native dress is made principal¬
ly from the skin of the reindeer; the
undergarments from the skin of the
younger ones; trousers, overshirts
(coats) and socks from the
skin of the older ones; boots
are made from tho tougher skin
of the legs, and sometimes trousers
\ n sha » e
but no buttons or fastenings are used,
a hole being cut in the upper part just
large enough to admit the head, to
which is sewed a hood to be worn in
cold weather. The overshirt (coat)
is made long, reaching to the knees,
and ornamented and trimmed with
long hairs of various animals. Some
of the coats are m«do from inferior j
furs (such as ground squirrel) and
skins of water fowl, &c. These are
very light anti worn only in summer.
Lighter trousers aro also made for
summer wear from the skins of seals,
those of the younger and smaller ones
being preferred. Both drawers and
trousers are confined at the waist by a
cord. Except during rainy weather
the coat and trousers are worn with
the hairy side out, but with the under¬
clothing the hair is worn next the
body. The socks and boots are very
similar in shape, the latter having a
thick sole made from the skin of tho
walrus or large seal. The boots for
summer are mado from sealskin en
tirely, the hair being removed in tan¬
ning; the legs are long, never below
the knee and sometimes extending be¬
low the waist; they are waterproof,
but not warm. During snow storms
or drifts an overall is worn to keep the
snow out of the hair, which is very es¬
sential for the preservation of the
reindeer skin garments. These over¬
all are made from entrails of seals,
buckskin, drilling and calico, the lat¬
ter being preferred when obtainable.
Straw is plr.ced in the bottom of the
boots for warmth and to give a soft
footing for the wearer.
“The dress of the women is much
like that of the men, the only differ¬
ence being a slight variation in the
pattern of the overshirt (coat). Heavy
mitts are made from the reindeer and
moose skins and occasionally from
sealskins, and are worn nearly all the
time, summer end winter.
“Tne native houses are constructed
bv sinking a circular hole twelve feet I
in diameter to a depth of three feet
into the ground. Spruce poles, live |
feet long, are driven around the side
to the depth of one foot (the bark hav¬
ing been removed), and placod as close :
together as possible. The roof, made
of the same material, is put on, leav
ing a circular hole of t wo feet in di
ameter at the top for the outlet of :
smoko and admission of light. The 1
root is well lashed by means of rope
male from the bark of the spruce.
Tho entire hut above ground is then!
covered with straw and earth. The
entrance to the hut is subterranean, a
passageway being dug at an angle of
about forty-five degrees from the ex
teri r of the hut to the floor, which pas¬
sageway is carefully protected in the
same manner as the root j
"These people never want for food,
The country abounds in animals an I
game, and the river in fish. Large
numbers of reindeer are killed, gener¬
ally shot, although during the winter
it quite frequently happens that many
are captured by driving them into
ravines where they sink into the deep
snows and fall an easy prey to the
hunters. The following is a list of
animals whose skins are preserved by
the natives viz:—Bear (black, brown
and gray), moose, fox (white, black,
red, cross and silver gray), marten,
sable, land and water otter, mink,
wolf, beaver and lynx. The meats ttf
all these animals are used for for
great preference is given to the A,
deer, moose and bear. The >' . rein
usually shot, the former tr .atter are
fish caught are of ma' upped. The
eluding large qua*- ■iy varieties, in
white fish, mul’ dities of salmon.
The sal mop ■et, pike and sculpin.
Hotham ” are chiefly caught in
er th' inlet at the mouth of the riv
fl' - .at empties into it; the other
j Q are caught in the river. They
are mostly caught in the summer by
means of the gill net or speared, the
dexterity with which this is dono be¬
ing something marvellous. The pike
weigh from seven to ten pounds,
whitefish from one to two pound* and
mullet from three to four pound*. In
the winter fish are also taken through
the ice by hook and line. The hook used
consist simply of a flat piece of ivory,
with a sharp piece of metal screwed
Into one end of It at right angles to
the face of the ivory. White whales
are caught in Hotham Inlet, and it is
regarded by the natives as a great and
dangerous feat to catch one. Those
who are successful are looked upon as
men of distinction. Hair seals are
also caught in Hotham Inlet, but they
do not seem to go up the river.
The Dutch at Home.
There is a singular calm reigning in
the streets of Rotterdam, says a writer
in the Cornhill Magazine. The faces
of the passers-by are stolid; there is no
chattering, no gesticulating. The pop¬
ulation is imperturbably good, 1 was
constantly struck by this feature of
the Dutch wherever I went; they
are preternaturally tranquil. At Rot¬
terdam, it may be argued, the people
are preoccupied with business and
But at their holiday resorts they are
equally quiet. One Sunday afternoon
1 went down to Scheveningen, the fa¬
mous seaside resort near The Hague,
and I was utterly astounded at the
bearing of the crowd of holiday seek
era I could hardly help thinking that
the whole thing must be a toy, and
that the people were playing at being
good. The hotels on the top of the
sand dunes, the neat, brick-paved,
winding footpath that runs the whole
length of the upper part of the beach;
the villas, the casino, the village, the
church, with its clock painted red and
blue, with the hours picked out in
white; the little canvas bathing ma¬
chines, brilliant with new paint; the
little tents on the beach, the fishing
boats, all seemed 1o accord with this
idea, they were so neat and proper.
When we arrived all the people were
out on the beach; the Sunday holiday
makers, too, had arrived, and yet the
tranquility, the stillness, the absence
of the sounds of gayety, or, indeed, of
any human sounds, were so marked
that it made one feel cjuite uneasy.
You met groups walking quietly; here
and there were groups sitting quietly
and talking quietly, and quiet smiles
pervaded at rare intervals their buttery
physiognomies. I presume these peo¬
ple were enjoying themselves in their
own quiet way. But how unlike a
Latin crowd at the seaside ! AtSche
veningen I saw no more style, no more
elegance, no moro coquetry than at
Rotterdam. Very few of the Dutch
women wore their quaint native head¬
dress, and these few had surmounted
it by horrible I’arisian bonnets. As
for their dress it was horrible. Once
for all I may say that, generally speak
j n g I found the Dutch women un
eome i v , the children unpleasing, and
me n ugly, coarse, and unsympa- j
thetic. Dutch cleanliness is proverbial,
1 know; but, nevertheless, tho Dutch
are not a well-washed nation. In all
their towns I found but poor washing
appliances and a sad absence of bath
houses. i
A Remarkable I’lg.
A newly-married lady, who recently
graduated from Yassar College, is not
ver y weU P osted about hous, ’ hold mat *
ter9- s{dd *° ber ff r(K:er ' no ^ * on H |
s i nce :
knight throe or four hams hero ,
a couple of months ago, and they were ,
vc ry fine. Have you got any more
Rke them r
Grocer-** Yes. ma’am, there are ten
of those hams hanging up there.
“Are you sure they are all off the
pig ?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Then I’ll take three of them,” - {
Texas Siftings j
SCIENTH’ it* .SCRAPS.
The sea is salt, be ^ ai, ; the
quantities of a e of gr eat
washed into ' c hAoride of Bodiurn
d from tiie mountains.
A four-lr Jndred-weight
down fro “lead” sent
abysses jt „ the Challenger I& (he
o / Xew __ Guinea
at the 'Vuot bottom
fathon js, tx 2(3.’'Y %th „( 4450
deepr J6t sea ,.od feet, which is the
'ha F* sounding yet effected.
co’dstro' .ench government has had
Coe - cted a machine which, with
ty engine operating it, weighs some
arty-five tons, which will cut steel
plates an inch in thickness. It is used
in cutting plates for swift cruisers.
“The Monk,” a well known land¬
mark of the Faroe Isles, five miles
south of Sumbo, has disappeared. It
was nearly 100 feet high, and it bore
on its top several large boulders. Part
of this curious rock had fallen last
year, but it was not until recently
that its entire disappearance was an¬
nounced.
The retina of the living eye has
been photographed by two English
operators. Owing to the non actinic
color of the retina, an exposure of
twenty minutes by gaslight was re¬
quired with an extra sensitive gelatine
plate. Although small, the negative
shows the bifurcation of the blood
vessels, and also the edge of the blind
spot.
While only 225 miles long and 85
wide, the island of Formosa, just
conquered by the French, is very val¬
uable for its richness [in animal and
vegetable life. One of its products is
camphor, of which it is the world’s
chief source of supply, although the
tree (Laurus camphora) also grows in
Borneo, Sumatra, Japan and China.
The camphor is distilled from the
finely cut wood in gently heated cruci¬
bles, the vapors being condensed upon
a network of rice stem.
Man is not the only animal that sui¬
cides. Herrings and other fishes have
sought death by rushing ashore in
myriads; regiments of auts, by delib¬
erately marching into streams; swarms
of rats, by migrating in the face of
their deadly foes; and even butterflies,
by flying in immense clouds straight
out to sea. It would to
learn the causes of such leases of ap
destruetion. Is the act if-j,<reiy con¬
scious one, or are the creatures vic¬
tims of disease—mental or physical?
His Feet Were Not Adapted to It.
Many and curious are the means
devised to accomplish our ends. The
following is said to have been the
way actually used by a mother to re¬
move from the mind of her son an
idea of which he was strongly pos_
sessed : William X. was an awkward
country boy, with immensely large
feet and with less than the average
amount of mental ability. lie had
in some way got it into his head that
he was intended by Providence for a
clergymen, and no amount of reason¬
ing by his mother and friends could
persuade him to abandon the idea,
until this happy thought struck the
mother. Opening her Bible at the
52d chapter of Isaiah she read to her
son the verse commencing, “IIow
beautiful upon the mountains are the
feet of him that .bringeth good
tidings, that publisheth peace.” Then
turning to her son, she said ; “Now,
William, your know your feet are not
beautiful; they are too large to be
beautiful.” This argument was con¬
vincing and William has never since
mentioned the idea of studying for the
ministry .—Boston Journal..
Dogs In False Skins.
In the window of a down-town am
tnal and bird store is a piece of paste¬
board on which is painted, “No dogs
in wigs here.
“I'll tell you what it means,” said
the proprietor. “One of thuse un
principled street peddlers had the im
P« denc e to stand on the corner .iuwn
below’here and sell an ecru poodle to
a cu8t omer of mine for She took
R home, and next day she came here
with R. What do you think? It was
a nasty, little short-haired yellow dog,
with the skin of an ecru poodle sewed
over * 1)e Jia ' ! probably l«et
a poodle, and took that way to save
the P ric0 of iL 1 have read that in
London, before dog fanciers were li- i
censed, all sorts of dogs were put into
the skins of those that died, and that
rats , even, were sewed up in dogs
skins an d sold.”—A lew York Sum
He Objected.
“Remember those chickens you sold !
me Saturday Certainly. ?^
•
» Spring chickens, weren’t they? ”
“ Of course. What was the matter ;
with (hem -'
“Oh, nothing. The springs were
all there, only I wanted to toll you that ;
the next time I want a pair with rub |
her springs. Wire springs are too rich
'
for my blood/’ —Philadelphia Call.
■jU. XII. NO, 0.
From Afar.
Sweet, that I see thee when thy dimpled mils
Breaks freth across the silver misty mom,
And when thy sunny eyes
Shame all the sunny skies,
And no rose lovely as thy lips is born—
That is enough.
Sweet, that I hear the® when thy mellow vote*
Floats down the twilight in half-whispered
song,
While every wren and thrush
And all the robins hush,
And listen like iny silent heart, and long—
That is enough.
Sweet, that I dream of thee in holy night,
When the tired world hath rocked itself to
sleep,
And when my yearning heart
I.ets day nnd oare depart,
And findeth rest on Love’s unbroken deep—
That is enough.
— W. J. Henderton.
HUMOROUS.
There has been a big jump In the
frog market.
Teacher—Define “snoring.” Small
hoy—Letting off sleep.
The school ma’am who married a
tanner had evidently a glimmering of
the fitness of things.
(Some malignant slanderer now
states that a woman needs no euloigsf,
for she speaks for herself.
Fond mother—Are you better, my
dear? Little Effie—I dunno; is the
jelly all gone? “Yes.” “Well, I’m
well enough to get up, then.”
“It seems to me,” moaned he, as h«
lied toward the front gate, with the
old man behind him, “that there are
more than three feet in a yard."
“My son, how is it that you are al¬
ways behindhand with your studies ?’*
"Because if I were not behindhand
with them, 1 could not pursue them,”
“Did you do nothing to resuscitate
the body T was recently asked of
witness. “Yes, sir; we searched the
was the reply,
A Sunday-school scholar was asked,
of Solomon, who was the great
Queen that traveled so many miles to
see him. The Bcholar—in fact, the
whole school—looked as if a little help
“Are your domestic ralations agree¬
able ?” was the question put to an un
happy-looking specimen of humanity,
are all
rifbt ” Wiiq t.liti rf.nly Jilt'll nir wife’*
The principal of an academy, who
had just purchased a new bell to hang
on the cupola of the institution, and
also married a handsome woman, made
an unfortunate orthographical error
when be wrote to the president of the
board of trustees: “I have succeeded
in procuring a fine large-tongued
belle."
Schools and Press of Mexico.
It is a lamentable fact that but a
small portion of the Mexican people
are able to read and write. The total
number of illiterate persons is not
definitely known, there being do accu¬
rate census returns to which reference
can be made. The most reliable esti¬
mate that can be arrived at places the
number at 7,000,000, or fully two
thirds of the entire population.
It is safe to say of all the daily pa¬
pers published in the City of Mexico
no one of them has a circulation of
500 copies outside of the city of publi¬
cation, while it is more than probable
that the combined outside circulation
of all the dailies will not exceed that
number. I have been in a Mexican
city of 12,000 inhabitants, where not a
single copy of a daily newspaper was
subscribed for by the entire popula¬
tion, and whero not fifty newspapers
of any kind were received at the post
office, except those addressed to resi¬
dents and visitors of foreign birth,—
Indianapolis Ti nes.
Fable of the Jackass and the Dnde.
At a meeting of the farm animals
the Dude once attempted to prove his
relationship to the Jackass,
“Why,” he said, vainly, “just look at
ears! We must be nearly related.”
. “True,” returned the Jackass, “you
may p e a degenerated mule; but
though 1 have often heard men call
you a jackass, they have never yet in
suited me by calling me a Dude.”
At this speech the other animals
burst into roars of laughter, and the
crestfallen Dude slunk silently away.
Moral: Thia Fab,e teaches U9 that
a n ordinary mortal should not attempt
to claim the acquaintance of a hotel
clerk.— Life.
The Kernel of the Argument.
A bushel of corn, when compacted
into lard, or cheese, or butter, can find
its market anywhere in the world
where the cost of sending the corn
itself would make a market for it ini
possible. Besides this, in the making
of the lard butter .. al resL
or a manor
ue la e ^ >n e < * n ’
being camed away to ^ t,I ’ ze for ^
fields. Th.s is the kernel of ^ ie arg "
ment for mixed farming, instead oi f
g rain farming .—Hew Orleans Times
pemocrat.