Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

OOLBXAH * KIRBY, Editor* ud Proprietor*. VOL. XL ellijay courier. PUBIJBHED EVERY THURSDAY —by- COLEMAN A KIRBY. Office in the Court House generaFdirectory. Superior Court meets 8d Monday in Msy and 3d Bonday in October. COUNTY OFFICERS. J. C. Alien, Ordinary, - T. W. Craigo, Clerk ’Superior Court, H. M. Bramlett, Sheriff, J. H. Sharp, Tax Receiver, G, W. Gates, Tax (.Collector, Jas. M. West, Surveyor, G. W. Rice, Coroner, W. F. Hill, School Commissioner. The County Board of Education meets at Ellijay the Ist Tuesday in January. April, July and October. Hon. James R Brown. Judge. George F. Gober, Solicitor General. COUNTY COUKT. Hon. Thomas F. Greer, Judge. Moultrie M. Sessions,County Solicitor. Meets 3d Monday in each month. Court of Ordinary meets first Monday iu each moLth. TOWN COUNCIL. E. W. Coleman, Intendant. L. B. Greer, J ’J' Yi ' , '/ Commissioners. L. P. Cobb, Jr. ; J. Long, j M. T. Dooly, Marshall. RELIGIOUS SERVICES. Methodist Episcopal Church, South— every 4th Sunday, and Saturday before, Rev. C. M. Ledbetter. Baptist Church —Every 2nd Saturday and Sunday, by Rev. E. B. Shope. • Methodist Ep’scopal Church—Ever. Ist Saturday and Sunday, by Rev. R 11. Robb. FRATERNAL RECORD, Oak Bowery Lodge, No 81, F. A. M,, moets first Friday in each month. W. A. Cox, W. M. L. B. Greer, 8. W. W. F. Hipp, J. W. It. Vj Roberts, Treis. T. W. Craigo, Sec. W. W. Roberts, Tyler. T. B. Kirby, S. D. li. M. Bramlett, J. D. = DR. J. R. JOHNSON, Physician and Surgeon ELLIJAY, GEORGIA. Tenders his professional services to the people of Gilmer and surrounding coun ties and asks the support of his friends as heretofore. All calls promptly filled. M. M. Sessions. E. W. Coleman. SESSIONS & COLEMAN, ATTORNEYS AT LAW, ELLIJAY, GA. Will practice iu Blue Ridge Cirouit, County Court Justice Conrt of Gilmer County. Legal business solicited. ‘‘Promptness” is our motto. OR. J. S. TANKERSLEY. Physician and Surgeon, Tenders his professional services to the citi sens of Ellijay, Gilmer and surrounding conn iies. All calls promptly attended to. Oflice upstairs over the firm of Cobb & Bon. RIiFE WALDO THORNTON, D.D.B. , DENTIST, Calhoun, Ga. Will visit Ellijay and Morganton at both the Spring and Fall torm of the Superior Court—and oftener by special contract, when sufficient work is guar anteed to justify me in making the visit. Address as above. Tmavil-li Young men Woo wish a Thorough preparation foi Business, will iiml superior advantagesal MOORE’S BUSINESS UNIVERSITY ATLANTA, GA. The largest and best Praotical Business Sehoo in the Bouth. cm enter at any time. for circulars. WHITE PATH SPRINGS! —THE— Favorite and Popular Resort o] NORTH GEORGIA! Is situated 6 miles north of Ellijay on the Marietta & North Georgia Railroad. Accommodations complete, facilities for ease and comfifft unexcelled, and the magnificent Minetal Springs is its chief attraction. For other particulars on board, etc., address, Mrs. W. F. Robertson, Ellijay, Ga. CENTRAL HOTEII Ellijay, Georgia. In the special popular resort for eamnercial men and tourists of all kind, and is the general house for prompt attention, elegant rooms and are second to none, in this place. Reasonable rates. Mrs. M. y. Tsem will give her personal at tention to guests in the dining hail. 1-14 Mountain View Hotel! ELLIJAY, GA. This Hotel is now fitted up in excel lent order, and is open for the reception of guests, under competent management Every possible effort will be made t make the Mountain View the most popu lar Hotel in Ellijay. Accommodations is every department first-claas. Livery, salt and feed stables in connection with hotel. Guests tme sifted to and from all trail)* free of charge- tU\y THE ELLIJAY COURIER Developing Business Talent. The junior partner in one of the most important commission firms has a son, sged eight, who is the pride of his father's heart. But nevertheless he be lieves in giving him an occasional lec ture. Last Sunday morning he talked to him on extravagance. “You spend too much money for aboy of your age, Tom,” he said, “and more over, you seem to have no idea of the principles of money-getting. I should like to sec some evidence of business ability. Now, run out and buy me a morning paper.” In about !eu minutes the lad returned. “Well, did you get the paper?” asked his father. “Oh, yes.” “Then give it to me.” “No, I think I’ll keep it.” “Wliat.” cried the father in astonish ment. “What do you mean?” “I think it.is a good investment,” re turned the boy calmly. “I think the price is going up.” “You young sbamp, here's a dime'. Now give me the paper.” “No; I don’t believe I’ll take a dime. I'vo got a corner on the newspaper market of this house, and I propose to force the price up to a quarter before I unload. I guess I know a good ‘deal’ when I see it.” “My boy,” said the proud father, as he fished a quarter out of his pocket, “I was mistaken about your having no busi ness ability. You come down to the office to-morrow, and I’ll take you over and introduce you to Mr. Armour. He’ll give you a partnership, I know.”—Chi ago liambhr. An Eleplian.’s Memory. The Loudon Daily Telegraph says; An amusing circumstance happened at Hythe, when an elephant belonging to a circus freely helped himself to an early breakfast. It appears that be tween threo and four o’clock in the morning, the animal managed to effect his es; ape from his companions, and paid a visit to a house with which his memory had a pleasant association—a little shop at the corner of Market street. On arriving at the place the elephant found that it was -closed, but nothing daunted he coolly lifted the door off its hinges and helped himself liberally to the contents of the shop, po’atces, apples and sweets. When he had either satisfied his appetite or had exhausted the supply of good things lie retraced his steps, and on his return journey he was met by his keepers, who liad in t e meantime become aware of his absence. The animal visited Hythe about 11 or 12 years ago, and when passing this house was treated by its then tenant to a good meal of potatoes. This seemed to have lott so good an impression on Ihe animal’s memory that he was led to pay another visit to so pleasant a spot, with the result as recorde l above. About tire same time the next morning he again got away and was making for the same place, but was discovered by his keeper before he had gone far on hi3 expedition. Surrosa n man begins life with eco nomical habits, and by rigid self-denial accumulates SIO,OOO by the time he is 25. This sum will have increased to a competency when he desires to be free from the cares of business, and he can then, and indeed for years before, have the pleasure of laying out his money freely and without fear in gratifying his tastes or doing good. But if he is in clined to humor bis tastes when young —1 o buy we will say expensive furniture or to mingle too freely in society, so that he never saves at a l until he is five and forty—what good will SIO,OOO do him then. It is, of course, good in itself, but as the foundation of a competency such a sum is wholly inadequate. It would amount to only $40,000 at 65, and not to a competency till long after three score and ten. One dollar at 21 is worth $l2O at 90, and SIOO spent in foolery and finery before five and twenty is simply $3,000 thrown away from that provision which should be made for the time when work must be a burden. “O’lUfferty,” said Juilgo Duffy of tlie New York Police Court, “your wife swears you strn k her with great violence.” “Wid great violins, whin there is devil a fiddle, big or little, on the prarr.eses. She exaggerates too much ontoirelv. yer Honor. It was wid me boot that I rebuked her.”— Texas Siftivqft. T he fl i2 e .f.S t!ai,i IJIORIfS Is the Celebrated 111 11 II IIU Adjustable Mning and Folding mm m *'srsss£- m unjlll} Kon ik 16,000 now in Use! THAT vL—k SHOULD BE IN WP EVERY HOUSE. fflj THINK OF IT! A PARLOR, LIBRARY, SMOKINfi, RECLINING Oft INVALID CHAIR, LOUNGE. FULL LEN6TH BED. and CHILD'S CRIB, Combined, and Adjustable to. any Position requisite for Oomfort or Convenience. Send at once for one of our Catalogues. Tp CW^dOMpUJIY, 930 BROADWAY, NEW YORK. INVALiD ROLLING CHAlfltb (RECLINING) and MiSRRiu ta on.y raaou.atlurcn oY reoUamg rolling obun. _ Em Chair Cos.. Hays’- ft.-- >. , SJr&WnrwiK i?ircot "A MAP or BUST UWB-XTS FLUCTUATIONS AND ITS VAST CONCERNS.” ELLIJAY, GA., THURSD A Y;,< XO-VEMBER 25. 188. - SEA AND SKY. Long ago, when the world was new, The sapphire sky and the ocean blue Wedded one summer day; And the sky still bends as the years go by, And the ocean leaps to the bending sky, For constant lovers are they. Bat when a mist arises between, The ocean, grown with jealousy green, His doubts to the listener Jells. He storms and frets, ha rages and roars, In furious wrath he beats his shores, While his turbulent bosom swells. The sky, though dark with a moment's frown, Will tenderly from its height look down With a radiant smile diviDe. The green to blue with its magic skill Twill change, and the stormy ocean still, And the sun of love will shine. Pause thou, my heart! and the lesson read: When the darkness falls and with jealous speed The mists of doubt arise— Fret not! ’-twill pass, and thou wilt know That the sun still rhines with a fervent glow In love’s unchanging skies. . —Mary J. Ifattis. A MIDNIGHT SPECTRE. At thffage of twenty-six I went to live in a graveyard, and I offer this circum stance as proof that I was not' n nervous or superstitious person. Had I been either, I would have selected a less grue some dwelling-place. I do not pretend that I preferred a graveyard to any other place of resi dence. On the contrary, if I had been questioned on the subject, I would have said that a cemetery was a good enough place for a dead man, but that it was not good enough for a live one; nevertheless there were considerations strong enough to induce me to to go there to live. I knew the sexton of the village church. This man and his good wife lived in a cottage in the cemetery, and they suggested that I should have my board and lodgings under their roof. I was a young barrister then, with >ut much practice or income, and I was obliged to economize. I owned a very large library, and required more room than the hall bedroom that is the usual habitation of the “single gentleman” in lodging houses. The sexton offered me two roomy apartments and my board at so low a figure that I was glad to nccept his terms. I had an almost overwhelming desire to save money. Not that I was naturally penurious, but I had a strong incentive in Miss Ethel Hartley. I had been en gaged to Miss Hartley for many months, but had not yet been able to offer her a home. All of my energies were devoted to one object—i. e., to earning a home for the woman who was to be my wife. I reflected that my cheap lodgings would help me accomplish this object, and I would have cheerfully consented to live iu a charnel-house, if by so doing I could have ha toned my wedding day. It was the sexton’s duty to dig the graves, to keep the g. ounds in order, and to protect them from vandalism. In order to facilitate his labors, his cottage had been built in the middle of the ceme tery, and was on a little knoll, from which he could command a view of the surrounding premises. It was built of gray stone, and externally was su like a mausoleum that it would bed fficult to distinguish the one from the other, it was ceria nlv not a cheerful place, and the vaults aud graves about it gave it an air of lonesome solemnity that I will not attempt to describe. I had a suspicion that Ethel would dis approve of my removal to the sexton’s cottage, so I did not mention the matter to her until all my arrangements had been made. I did not wish to be per suaded to nbandgft it. The sexton had nssured me that I would find his “a nice, quiet place,” where I could read and study without being disturbed by any noise of any visits from my neighbors. He made an effort to l.e jocose, and assured me that I would “find ’im a heap less trouble some than any other neighbors.” I was indisposed to be critical of my new quarters. My ro ms were large, clean and airy; my food was abundant and wholesome, and mine host and hostess were thoroughly respectable. But there was one thing about the cot tage that I seriously disliked, and that was its name. Ido not mean its repu tation, for that was above reproach; but it had been named “Death’s Lodge.” 1 cannot imagine why this name had been given to the only place in the cemetery, where Death was not present and where living creatures existed. As I had feared, Miss Hartley disap proved of the change I ha 1 made in my lodgings. I recited all Ih) advantages to be derived from it, but she could not be convinced of th: advisability of such a move. “Your sexton is not the only respect able person who takes charge of lodges,” she insisted, when I gave his good char acter as one of the reasons why I had en tered his house. ‘'There are other land lords as reputable as he.” “I do not and epute that,” I answered. “But are there other landlords whose homes arc as well kept and whose terms are so moderate? This man lives in a graveyard, Edith, and he knows there is a popular prejudice again tsuch a habi tation as his. He realizes that his rooms must consequently briDg low prices. I am not afraid of graves or ghosts, and I mean to profit by the unpopularity of his house.” “Ateyott quite sure you arc not afraid of ghosts she asked, with true femi nine persistency. “It is quite ersv, in this cheerful room and in a house filled with,living people, to believe we arc without superstition. But will it be so easy, Herbert, in an almost deserted dwelling that is apart from all other human habitations, and that is surround ed by graves? There are dismal stories told of that cemetery, and of the spirits hovering about it. We don't believe in them, and we laugh ut them here. But will they appear so ridiculous to you when you arc in that dreary place? May they not occur to you unpleasantly when you are alone some night, and have noth ing to look ut but those melancholy graves?” I laughed st her questions. “I am quite certain that I will not be troubled by any fears or imaginings,” I told her. “I menu to speed my evening* in work and study, and my nights in sleep. I have no time to think of death, or of anything alto that is gloomy sad uswelcomt. 1 tbsll think of li/a—of tho life I am going to live'with you—of the life that shall well be worth the living.” For a time the said r.o more about “Death's l odge.’’but I noticed that she was nervous, and wanted me to leave her at an early hour. When I asked her bar.tcringly if she was already tired of my society, she confessed that she dreaded having me enter the cemetery after dark. There was nothing heroic about my little girl. Nclhing k-ss than a miracle would have mdtffea her to en ter the cemetery at nightl _ Occasionally she had cuffed it by day light, and had been inti-TeftcAan ono por tion of it that was owned by the Hol'aud ers in our town. When they juried, a child there they laid his Wft upon his grave, and it is supposed tfitTOY occa sioiia ly left his melancbolyfcsfing place and came upon earth a6d*hußed him self with these plaything' 5 * that were placed-like offerings before as'hrine. One or two of the Dutch setttos asserted positively that at midiraty on moon light nights, a group of jgjje Holland ghosts ventured out of tajpKgravee and iii-l’.-lu' and in all sorts of pieaSwg pAetknes. Ethel referred to this superfttitiotis belief rather shamfacedly, “I don't suppose that yeu’H ever see a ghost, Herbert,” she said ‘hint you may imagine that you see one, ind that will be quite as bad. If you Me a white dog in the distance, you may finagine that it is some little Hollander siting, upon his grave and playing at munilety-peg.” She was smiling now, blit I could see that her eyes looked troubled. I fancied that she wished I v as safety atliome. ‘-Twill take myself off;” I said, “al though I can see no enuke for haste When you want to frighten menway you must produce a ghost of my own size, for 1 don’t mean to be terrified by any num ber of little Hollanders nor their game of mumblety-peg.” I took her in ray arms then, and bade her good-night. “Don’t find fault with my lpndgings,’’ I told her. “They are going to help us Err cure a home, and afterward we will e too happy to think of anything that is unwholesome and uncanny.” * * * * * * Months rolled bv, and I took consider able credit to myself because I had not been rendered uncomfortable by my dreary surroundings. My .appetite was good—to that the sexton’s wife could testify—l slept extremely well, Kid later than had been my custom. The intense morning quiet in the cemetery was' in such great contract with the noise on the street, that I found difficulty in getting snake in time for breakfast. Besides per fect quiet, there was another cause con ducive to rest: my mind was easy about my finances. My practice had ’greatly increased,and my marriage was no longer an indefinite prospect. Ethel ha% set the day for our wedding,, and oik- hOSuAgres in rcadiness'for us. I had become convinced that f was not a nervous or superstitiqus person, and that all the ghostly talcs that had been told mein childhoodhad been seed sown upon stony ground Lately I had been too much absorbed in mv plans and prospects to care whether I lived in a graveyard or in the Garden of Eden On the evening preceding our wed ding-day I stayed much later than usual at Ethel's house, for wo had a great many final preparations to make before we bade good-bye to our old lives and be gan t’.:e new. . When I talked of return ing to “Death's Lodge” she shuddered. “I thank heaven,” she said, “that this is the last time you will ever enter that dreary cemetery at night.” “In spite of all your fears and proph ecies,” I said, “no evil has befallen me in the months of my residence there. No wraiths or .ghosts have conde cended to vi-it me,and even the little Hollanders have given up jackstraws and mumblety peg, and rc'fuse to appear.” “You have never uttered a complaint against the Lodge,” she said, “and I ought to have a little grateful sentiment toward it, since it has enabled us to be’ married sooner than would have been jiossible if you had not gone there to live. But, Herbert, how could any liv ing creature grow sentimental over a house that is called ‘Death's I odge’?” I made no effort to answer the ques tion. My thoughts were dwelling ten derly upon the future (our future) that would open to us on th* morrow. I reminded her it wasthe last time I would saygool-byc to Ethel E artley. To mor-1 row she would be Mr.-. Herbert Grant. When I left her it was nearly nrdnight, and the moonlight was as brilliant as if November had arrived, instead of Sep tember. I took a short cut through the cem etery, and my way lay thiough the part that belonged to the Hollanders. It oc curred to me that the hour was near when they were said to appear. I smiled At the thought, and trudged bravely on through the" rank, overgrown grass that was heavy with dew. Continuing on my way, I notice 1 that I was approaching a new-made grave, and I wondered who had been buried there. While I was wondering I wit nessed a sight that al lost caused my heart to cease beating. I saw ahead rise slowly out of the grave and stop above it. I stood motionless for a mo ment, while my eyes were fixed upon this object. . I could see that a ghastly face was turned toward me. Then I for got that I was not superstitious. I for got that I had laughed at Ethel’s fears, I forgot that I had been willing to face any ghost of my sizothat could be. pro duced. I f.rgot everything but the staring countenance that arose from that new-made grave. I had always been counted a strong man and courageous, but I confess that on this occasion I was very weak. I did not wait, tj^interview the apparition. I turned lilSra coward, and ran from it with all the blind fleet ness of fear.’ Iliad not run far when I was brought to a full and sudden stop. I had run against a tombstone with such violence that I was thrown backward upon the ground. I sprang to my feet, although I was bruised-from my fall, and looked back to see what had become of the ap piration. It was not In sight. 1 could sec the newly filled grave distinctly in the moonlight, nod it Appeared undis turbed >'o disheveled head prptmded from it, and no haggard face contem plated me fr m its ghnstly dentin. For some minutes I stood thinking of what I had seen, and we* undecided whether to advance or to retrace my step*. I (onfus that I we* templed to laavethegruvcynrd to sleep tli it uight at the 'ilh'ge ion. But upon reflection I decided that this would be a fooU*b proceeding. I hod still mot effects at the Lodge, which I would have to pack and carry with me on the morrow. I thought of making a wide detour around the new grave, but I did not like to be driven outof my path by an iurangi ble tiling tl at I did not understand. " I began to have a suspicion that I w tha victim of a practical joke,or of an optical delusion. I resolved to continue in my former path, and |o force myself to- }ss very close lsy the new grave. I further Fwould never toll LCEjI that hsr prophecies concerning my superstintJn had come true. I fixed my eyes upon the grave, sml went slowly toward it. Evou after all this deliberation my heart beat furiously, and my head swam until I could scarcely control my movements. My nerves’ were most painfully alive to my-melancholy surroundings. But I went forward until I was within twenty paces of the grave. Then I stopped, for Slowly and mysteri ously rose up thftt horrible head that had driven me back before. It dame, as be fore, out ,of .thk grave. I saw its adien countenance, its sunken eyes, its. wild, disheveled hair, and I could not face it. I turned and ran again, over graves and stones and hedges, until again! fell. This timo I stumbled over a Bpndo that the sxton had doubtless dropped and for gotten. When I regained my feet, I lookpd back and saw the moonlight, the rank, wet grass, and the now grave; but the ghost, or man—whichever he might be—was invisible. He had doubtles gone down into his grave again, in the same silent, weirdlike manner in which he had risen from it. Should I turn my back forever on this uncanny place? Should I go to the inn and send for my goods at • ‘Death’s Lodge. ” trusting that thosexton’s good wife would pack them? Should I leave everything here, and encourage a fear that had twice alreadv mastered mo? After a time I thought I would go for ward. “If I do,” I thought, “I may yet find an explanation of this mystery. If I turn back, I will always bolieve that I have seen a ghost.” There was a carriage-track through the cemetery that ran very close to the grave from which the apparition hud ap peared, and I resolved now to take this in preference to walking over the grass, as I had previously done. I had lost confidence in myself, and thought it po >- sible that I would run away ouco more, if the apparition again appeared. I re alized that the carriage road would afford me less perilous footing. If I ran I would bo in no danger of striking against grave stones. ■ I took nnothcr precaution aguiust dan ger. I picked up a stono anil curried it with mo. It did not occur to mo then that it would boa curious weapon to use against a disembodied spirit. .1 bad approached the grave befennrr Its side, but my new course brought me close to its foot. As I came very near, I saw, what I hail not imagined before, that a man was lying on the ground be side the grave. He was on the opposite sido frem thnt on which I had made my former approach. As ho heard my foot steps he arose to a sitting posture, his head rising a little above the grave. I re alized the situation at once. From my former approach, I had been deceived into supposing that his head arose from the grave, when in rsality it appeared from the side opposite tef which I had boju standing. When’ I had run away, the man had resum and his former reclining position. I decided that he wa < not a ghost, but some tramp who had wan dered into the graveyard iu quest of a quiet place to sleep. I would have left him to resume h's slumbers but for nn accident. As 1 started to go I saw him cast his body across the grave, while he uttered a cry thnt made my blood turn chill. I knew by the sound that he was insane, and I feared he was dying. I ran into the house and called the sexton. Wc two managed to get the wretched creature into the Lodge. We watched at his beds de until morn ing, when he died. I learned that his wife had been killed three days before by being thrown from her horse, and the shock of hearing Of her sudden doitli had dethroned his reason. The unhappy husband had stolen into the cemetery and lain down to die beside her grave. ****** I have never told Ethel the story of ray fright. At first our marriage and our in terest in our new home put it out of my mind. 1 ater, 1 did not wish to recall it, but the wretched madman aroused all the compassion in ray nature. Now that I have written the story, she may read it, and see how superstitious I once became. —Franco B. Cura's. Signs from the Sun. Bigot of Bain, frim tie Sun. —Sun rising dim or waterish; rising red with bla kish l.eams mixed along with its rays; rising in a musty or muddy color; rising red and turning blackish; setting under a thick cloud: setting with q red sky. in the east. Sudden rains never Inst long; but when the air grows thick by degrees, and the sun, moon and stars shine dimmer and dimmer, then it is likely to rain six hours usually. B'g it of Wind, from the Bun. —Sun rising pale amFsetting red, with an iris; rising large in surface; rising with a red sky in the north; setting of a blood color;-setting pale, with one or more dark circles, or rc ompanied with red streaks, seeming concave or hollow; seeming divided, great storms; parmelja or mock suns nevor appear but they are followed by tempest. Signs of Fair W,a‘hrr , from the Sun.— Run rising clear, having set clear the night b fore; rising while the clouds about arc driving to the west; rising with an iris about him, and that iris wearing away equally on nil sides, then exp ct fair and settled weather; rising char and not hot; setting in red clouds, according to the old ob ervat’on: The evening red and morning gray, Is the sure sign of a fair day. * The Sea Serpent Again. Ensign Selim E. Woodworth, U. S. N., tells the Snn Francisco reporters that a short time ago when the Banger was off the coast of Costa Blca on a survey ing trip th: lookout icportod a reef some distance away. They drew near to sur vey it and siw that the roof was a huge serpent. The head was larger than a miin's body, with large, piercing eyes. The body was of a ulrty yellow color. The serpent wu* u slow traveler and Iho shi|i gamed on it, but it escape I in Ike darkntss, not b forj several iuu ket ball* bad been fired into U without apparent •ftfet, BUDGET OF FUN. HUMOROUS SKETCHES FROM g f VARIOUS SOURCES. Hu Wm an ApprentlceA Timely Hint - Ilia Wish Reciprocated - Wouldn’t Walk Half Way-Tight Money .Etc. Bagley— “Hello, Topley! Where are you goifcg with that grip?” Topley—“l’m going to Arizona.** “Fight Indians?” g “No, indeed. I am going there to TO. on those fellows down there, and after a year or two you can come home and be a doctor. Ta! tal”— Philadelphia Call. A Timely Hint. “I feci as if I were in heaven 1” said an ardent admirer, who was slow in popping the question, to a young lady. “I wish you did,” was the rejoinder. “Why, do you doubt my word?” re proachfully. —well—they say marriages are m 1 >te in lieavyn,” she replied. Bho wears an engagement ring now.— New York Sun. * His Wish Reciprocated. “Do you know, Miss Cutter, said Mr. Yorely, “that I have a predilection for looking back?” “Just like pa, when ho failed. He kept looking back all tho time; he was so afraid tho sheriff was after him.” “No, 1 not you mistake mo. I mean looking back into the past—reverting to the days of our forefathers, a hundred years ago. I sometimes whit I had lived in those days.” “I’m sure I wish you had, Mr. Yorely.” Yonkers Qasctte. Wouldn’t Walk Half Way. “As Lake Shore passenger train No. 8 was pulling out of the Union depot the other morning, an old farmer rushed out of the restaurant and flew like a streak until he caught the hand-rail of the rear platform,” relates the Toledo Blade. “He climbed on and entered the sleep ing coach, but lie was told to go for ward. Without n quostion he obeyed, and was looking fur a seat in the next sleeper when the porteroaid: ‘Uo further forrud, suh, to the nex’ cah.’ He went one car further to another sleeper, and settled himself in a seat from which ho was ugnin routed. He protested some, but ho went, He stopped in the fourth sleeper and was determined to find a .sent. The sleeping car condu .tor came in and said: ‘You’ll have to go into a Jorwnrd our.kt- The granger rose on his dignity and said: ‘-Now, you look here. I bought a ticket to carry mo clean through, to Buffalo, and I’m blamed if I’m goiu’ to let you make me walk halt tho way. By shucks, I’ve been walkin’ all the way from Toledo, and blamed if you don’t wfcit me to walk clean to Cleveland.’ A ter sonro ccxing the farmer was induced to go into the day coach next in front." Tight Money. At breakfast timo yesterday morning one of Pittsburg’s best citizens looked uneasy and suspicious. Finally he re marked to his wife as he sampled a roll; “Sleep well last night?” “Yes, dear, fairly well." “Didn’t find a man under the bed when you looked for him last night?” “No, dear.” “And you didn’t heur any burglars about the house?” “Why, no, dear.” “1 thought you didn’t,” ho replied, with a sarcastic smile. “You didn’t wake me up once to go down stairs to chase them out. I’d like to know, though, where that fivc-dollar gold piece, those three silver dollars and those half dollars and quarters I had in my pocket last night when I went to bed have dis appeared to.” “I have them, my dear.” ‘ The deuce you hnvc!” he exclaimed, astounded by tho openness of the confes sion. ‘ “Yes, dear; I read in ths Dispatch that money is tight in the East,and you know it is just r.s likely to get tight here as there, so I thought it best to take it away from you.” —Pittsburg Dispatch. A Lesson Lost. 11. M. Hoxie, of tho Missouri Pacific Ilailway,• is noted in railway circles for his proneness to give his inferiors good, sound lectures on thp slightest provoca tion. Hoxie is a haid worker, and all who have sceir him know how round shouldered he is. One day a brakeman called on him with a letter request! for a pass in his pocket, leaving the door wide open as he entered the office, and wear ing his hat on his head in true brakeman man style. In a loud voice he called out: “Is lioxic in?” At this the general manager looked up from his (l sk and replied: “Yes, sir, Mr. Hoxie is in.” The brakeman took his letter out of his pocket, grabbed the corner of the en velope between h : s thumb and fore finger, and sent the missive spinning and whirling upon his snperior's desk. Hoxie looked up in amazement, and said: “Now, young man, would it not look better for you, when coming into a gen tleman’s office, and especially so when asking a favor, to remove your hat, wipe your feet, and inquire in a quiet voice: •Is Mr. Hoxie in!’ ’’ The brakeman looked at the general manager a moment, asked for his letter, got it, went out, closed tho door, and in a moment marched in again, closed the door softly after, wiped his feet, put his hat under his arm, and in the most polite manner inquired: “Is Mr. Iloxie, the general manager, in?” “I am Mr. Hoxio,” replied the general manager; “what can Ida for you?" “T on run go to the deuce, you round shouldered crank I” tetorted the brake man. “Ldou't want none of your favors —l'm from Texas. ” (Jhicajo Herald. Playing Hulislllute fur an Invalid I luring the war übout twenty Confed-' eratc uri-oners were at Fort McHenry, stored away n a fodder loft under guard. One morning Captain Ned Bridges was playing au iunoeent game of card* when the sick enll wa touu led —the signal for ailing soldiers to report at the surgeon's office and he examined. “J-leutaßt,” wid Captsiß Oridgw, OWE DOLLAR Par U Aivama turning to a young soldier, “answer sick call for me and let us finish this gar Go dowu there und p rsonatc mera tR the doctor you want another box liver pills.” ‘ The obliging Lieutenant it mi |i;ui 1 oil J v t’l ..tiler -o MS, ok f the g lards. ’ ’ ; -0 lice. When then'*; vaii<-t. ih —JBI at give me> I want box, I another box will fix me up affright.” “Didn’t them pills cure you,’’asked the Wekiug* over his spee •‘No, but another box will fix me, I think.” “Well, well,” said the doctor half to himself, “I’ll havo to change the treat ment on you.” Thereupon ho picked up a graduating glass, and from various bottles mixed the worst mess that mortal ever saw. The Lieutenant shuddered. When the villainous compound was made up the doctor stirred it vigorously and viciously, and handing it out, said: “Drink that.” The Lieutenant took hold of the glass. Cold chills rnn up and dowu his spine. “Doctor," he stammered, “I’d—l’d er heap rutlier take the pills.” “Drink it!" stormed tho doctor, and in the excitement the medicine went down the Lioutcnant’s throat. When the Lieutenant returned to the fodder loft he was very glum. When tho game of cards grew monotonous, Captain Bridges turned aud asked: Lieutenant, git them pills?” “Now!” “Well,"said the Captain, “you needn’t be so snappish about it. What did the doctor say ?” “He a aid he was going to change the treatment on you, and if you don’t git well it ain’t my fault, for I’ve taken the nast iert dose for you tnat evor I saw 1" A Plante of Cats. The town is at prosont infested with a plague of cats, wiltes Allred Trumblc in the New York Nem. Jho streets after dark look as if it had rained cats. The poundmen take cpro that a similar illu sion in regard m dogs does not prevail, but Tabby’s worthlessness as a proy to the hungry flood secures her immunity from the persecution poor Tray falls the hapless victim to. If Mr. Bcrgh’s prop osition to set up a cat pound is not soon adopted, wc shall find our highways per ilous after dark, and have to pay visits on the highways rifle in hand and with accident insurance policies in our pock ets. The trees of the public (arks will be infested with wild cats, and they will pounce upon the passer-by from garden walls and assail him from areps and alley ways. Down in the Fronch quarter they keep the streets fairly clean of feline prowlers, for they snare'them therefor the purpose of securing their fur, which they put to some use or other in a sump tuary way. I notice also that an invent ive framcmakcr has discovered a utility for the immature grimalkin by stuffing it and nailing it to n frame over whose edge it peeps in what the ladies assure mu is quite a cute and charming way in deed. The next step in the way of ex tinction will probably be marked by the appearance of rabbit stew as a restaurant dish. In France, where there is always a lingering suspicion that cat and rabbit ure synonymous terms w.ith the restaur ateur, it is the custom to always serve the head of a rabbit with a dish that pro fesses to be composed of its flesh, hven this is not regarded as positively insur ing safety, since no one t nts the head, and it can therefore be made to do duty over again. In London there is an early morning beverage known as saloop. It is simply sassafras tea, served hot, and a rabbit pie commonly goes with it. I have tried the snloop, but never had courage to test the pie. I had heard too many weird tales of its origin. .The London pieman would be in his glory here just now. There is raw material enough about our streets to stock him fertile winter. If wo do not have a cat pound let us have a pieman at any rate. One or the other is a crying necessity. Making Wooden Toothpicks. • There are, I have been told, but three toothpick factories in the United States. One of them is located at Belmont, Alle gany county, New York, just on the edio of the town and near the banks ol the Genesee river. The factory makes two articles of commerce, toothpicks, as already stated, and allumettes, or lamp lighters. We started in the basement, and after exploring tho engine room be took ourselves to where the woodwork was in its first stages. We found in this second room piles of circular blocks of wood about sixteen inches in diameter by perhaps five in thickness. This wood was “hard” and “soft” maple and pine. These are put into a revolving machine which strips them of their bark; they are then sent up to the first floor. Here they are put into another revolving machine, which cuts them into fine strips, which are then cut into the required shape fbr toothpicks. The “picks” are dropped out at one side while the refuss falls from the other into a shaft and is carried down to the basement and sub sequently u edfor firing. Some are round, some square. This little machine which makes them appears simple enough to the unitiated, but in reality is quited complicate i. containing, we were informed, several hundred knives. These small articles of after dinner ser vice are then taken up to the seiond story, where they are kept in a heated room until sufficiently dry for packing.—• Hoches'er Union. (Jeronimo, the Apache Chief. • Whatever his lineage, it is not less true that Oemnimo is one of the most re markable Indian commanders the nation has ever known, (lifted with the cun ning and ferocity of a savage beast, al most void of human instincts, and skilled' as a modern professional in the use of arras, all i ombiue to make him a most dreadful enemy. Addodto those peculiar traits is hi* singular and almost unlimited inffuenco over the people among whom he has lived. II hu* command of English, Spanish, and sove.al Indian dialects, and ill military capacity mid the power to u*e his resources he Umore than a match for any of Ibe train'd s ‘ldler* who have beou huutiug him for ywn.-s-.Sa/i fhti t dm Cmmtm NO. ST.