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OOLBKAK * KXBBY, Editor* tad Proprietors.
VOL. XI.
ELLIJAY COURIER
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY
—BY—
COLEMAN A KIRBY.
Itf* Office in the Court Home 4^
GENERjOiRECTORY.
Superior Court meets -3d Monday in
May and 3d Monday in Ootober,
COUNTY OFFICERS.
J. 0. Allen, Ordinary,
T. W, CraigOj Clerk Superior Court,
H. M. Bramlett, Sheriff,
J. H. Sharp, Tax Receiver,
G. W. Gates, Tax Collector,
Jaa. 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 COUBT.
Hon. Thomas F. Greer, Judge.
Meets 3d Monday in each month.
Court of Ordinary meets first Monday
in each month.
TOWN COUNCIL.
E. W. Coleman, Intendant.
L. B. Greer,
L. p/ cS? Jr. Commissioners.
T. J. Long,
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.
Mothodi'st Episcopal Church—Ever.
Ist Saturday and Sunday, by Rev. R
H. Robb; .. L
• FRATERNAL record.
Oak Bowery Lodge, No, 81, F. A. M.,
meets first Friday in each month.
W. A. Cox, W. M.
4a B. Greer, S. W.
W. F. Hipp, J. W.
R. Z. Roberts, Treas.
T. W. Craigo, Sec.
W. W. Roberts, Tyler,
T. B. Kirby, S. D.
11. 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.
E.W.COLEMAN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
ELLIJAY, QA.
Will praotice in Blue Ridgo Circuit, Count,
Court Justice Court of Gilmer Count,. Legal
business solicited. “Promptness" is our motco.
DB. J. S. TANKERSLEY.
Physician and Surgeon,
Tenders bis professional services to the citi
rens of Etlijay, Gilmer snd surrounding conn
tics. All calls promptly attended to. Office
upstairs over the firm of Cobb & Son.
WFE WALDO THORNTON, D.D.S.
DENTIST,
Calhoun, Ga.
Will visit Ellijay and Morganton at
both the Spring and Fall term of the
Superior Court—and oftener by special
contract, when sufficient work is guar
anteed to justify me in Baking the visit.
Address as above. Tmav2l-li
Young men
Who wish a Thorough preparation for
Business, will find superior advantages al
MOORE’S BUSINESS UNIVERSITY
ATLANTA GA.
The largest and best Practical Business School
in the South. oan enter at an,
time. JB>*Send for circulars.
WHITE PATH SPRINGS!
—THE—
Favorite and Popular Resort oj
NORTH GEORGIA!
la situated 6 miles north of Ellijay on
the Marietta & North Georgia Bailroad.
Accommodations complete, facilities for
ease and comfort unexcelled, and the
magnificent Mineial Springs is its chief
attraction. For other particulars on
board, etc., address,
Mrs. W. F. Robertson,
Ellijay, Ga.
CENTRAL HOTEL!
Ellijay, Georgia.
In the special popular resort for commercial
men and tonriata of all kind, and is the general
honse for prompt attention, elegant rooms and
are second to none, in this place. Reasonable
rates.
Mrs. ML Y. Teem will give her personal t
-tention to gneats in the dining hall. 1-14
Mountain Viet Hotel!
• ELLIJAY, QA.
This Hotel ia now fitted up in eaeel
lent order, and ia open for the rsceptiee
of guests, under competent management.
Every possible effort will be made Is
moke the M—fin View the most papas
lar Betel in lUtyoy. AwarrmnwiKn— M
mnwAdSslaiamdw wMthoMl.
hestfshaife. fMly
THE ELLIJIPr COURIER
FOR GOOD
JOB PRINTING
—GO TO THE—
COURIER OFFICE.
Pamphlets,
Circulars,
Bill Heads,
% ,
Letter Heads,
S' .*
r
Envelopes,
Business Cards,
*
Posters,
4*
And in fast everything
in the Job Printing line
neatly and cheaply ex
ecuted at short notiee.
SATISFACTION GUARANTEED.
Give us a call.
3gS-stey Organ.
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one Unrivaled.
JJgJ-legant Finish.
*jp-ears of Popularity.
ILLCSrr.ATED CATALOGUES SENT TREE.
Estey iDrgan i£o., Brattieboro,vt.
Automatic Sewing Machine Cos.
72 Wart 23d Bt., New York, N.Y.
_ J * We invite special *t-
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ll tU■Ct* n<! yet, if not preferred
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Tension Ma
chine, can be returned
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ana men*, refunded.
But what le more remarkable atill, we nerrr
knew a woman willing to do her owe fauU,
eewing on a shuttle machine after haviag triad
our Hew Patent AUTOMATIC.
Bren Shoe Manufacturers find it best suited tc
their work—its elastic seams am more dnsabla
Truly Antomatio Sewing Machines are feet
superseding shuttle machines, and it la no nae to
dany it. Truth ia might, and does prevail.
Hksttla Machines hate seen their beet da, a.
JbwJ Jaw fswmiimw /tu. —J
■PW VWWVMTt MrTVpVRMMI MRWRn
Invalid*rolling chairs
(RECUNINO)^AM
and le&fs
| iw ealjr ■ntiigtnttd reclining rahiag ohaue.
luj Clair 0e H#w H*w*. Cm*.
“A MAP or BUST LITB-ITB fluctuation.*? and its past coxczrxs.
ELLIJAY. GA„ THURSDAY, JANUARY 6. 188?
TO FAME.
“Bright fairy of the morn, with flower* ar
rayed
Whose beauties to thy young pursuer
seem
Beyond the ecstasy of poet's dream—
Shall I o’ertake thee, ere thy lustre fade?
“Ripe glory of the noon, to dazzled eyes
A pageant of delight and bower of gold,
Dissolving into mirage maaMoki—
Do I o’ertake thee, or mistake thy prize?
“Dull shadow of the evening, gaunt and
gray,
At random thrown, beyond me, or above >
And cold as memory in the arms oMova*
Have I o’erta’en thee, but to cost awAy?”
‘No morn, or noon, or eve am I,” she said
“But night, the depth of night behind the
sun;
By all mankind pursued, but never won,
Until my shadow falls upon a shade. ”
— Harper's Magazine
THE PAWNED WATCH.
BY REBECCA HARDING DAVIS.
“Taking the line .3, 4 as the
base, I”
David Kershaw's eyes wandered from
the book to the window. There was
nothing to be seen there but a red brick
walkabout three feet.distant. Then they
traveled wearily over the walls of his
room, with their soiled red and yellow
paper, the bare floor, the cheap pine
tablo piled with books, the cot-bed in
the corner.
“If one had even a fire or a stove!” he
muttered, kicking at the black grating
of the register, through which a feeble
supply of warm air crept into the room.
lie took up his book, sorowling impa
“lfl takes, 4 as the base” and
again the book dropped on his knee.
“Four years of this! Four years of let
ter solitude! You’ve taken too big a
contract, Dave! You can’t go through
with it 1” and he fell to staring gloomily
at tho bricks outside of the window.
David Kershaw was a country boy,
used to a free, out-door life, to a big
house, with roaring fires, and to a large,
gay family of young people He had
been working for years for the money to
carry him through college, and had came
up to begin his (o irse threomonths ago.
He had not ah .acquaintance in the
great city. He rented this attic room,
bought his dinner for teu or fifteen cents
nt a cheap eating-house, and atecrackers
and cheese for’breakfast and supper. His
clothes were CDrirse and ill-fitting, and
he was painfully conscious of it, and held
himself haughtily aloof from his fellow
students. College lads are not apt to
break through !u>y-g)iell of pride and sul
'iMfrWD' td-viiia tin-aiwa trerrcatli.
They simply let David alone, with a care
less indifference more g a iij n g than dis
like. -
He plodded silently from the college
to his bare room, afod thence to the mis
erable eating-house day after day.
Being naturally a genial, friendly fel-.
low, the thought of the four long, lonely
years to come sickened him.
lie threw up the window presently,
aruLput hia head out tfteatch a glimpse
0< the street into which the alley opened.
A-young man on horseback passed at the
moment. It was Jourdan Mitchener,
one of his cla-s. Ho rode a blooded
mare, and was fully equipped in cordu
roy coat and knickerbockers, cream-col
ored leg .sings, and gauntlets.
‘‘A regular swell!” thought Kershaw,
laughing good-humoredly. He had no
ticed this Croesus of the college before.
“He has a good, strong face. Well,
luck’s unevenly divided in this world!”
taking up his book with a sigh.
Half an hour later there was a knock
at the door. David opened it, expect
ing to see his landlady, but there stood
Mitchener, smiling, whip in hand.
“Mr. Kershaw?” lifting his hat.
“Ashamed not to have known you be
fore, but there are such a lot of us fel
lows, you know.' Thanks, yes,” taking
a chair. “My mother saw your name in
a catalogue, and sent me to tell you
that your mother and ahe were school
mates and friends, ‘Daisy’ and ‘Lily’—
that sort of. thing, I believe. My mother
married a city man, and for that reason,
during the years that have passed, has
lost sight of her old schoolmates who
lived away from the city.”
“And my mother married a farmer,
and has been poor all of her life,” inter
rupted David, morosely.
“Yes, yes. American life!_ Up to-day
and down to-morrow,” carelessly.
Something in Mitchener’s manner made
his wealth and David’s poverty appear
paltry accidents, to which they, as men,
were loftily superior. Before they had
been together ten minutes, David felt
his morbid gloom disappear. He began
to talk naturally and laugh heartily.
“This Mitchener was a thorough good
fellow,” he wrote home that night.
“Was not conscious, apparently, that he
was worth a dollar.”
The troth was that Jourdan fully ap
preciated the value of his father's great
wealth, but he was a well-bred and cour
teous young fellow, and knew how tor
put a poor and awkward lad at ease.
Kershaw was invited to dinner at Mrs.
Mitchener’s on Sunday. He went about
the next this dinner in a daze
of delight, a, if he had been passing
through a golden mist, and had brought
some of it still clinging to him. He
hummed a tune, as he pored over his
problems. He did not see the'bare floor
and hideous wall-paper, but the beauti
ful home in which he had been treated
ftß an honored geest. The Persian car
pets, the statuary, the table brilliant with
flowers and siher,*even the delicious fla
vors of the dishes lingered gratefully on
his long-starved palate. He had met,
too, women more charming and men
more gent!y-bred than any he had ever
known before.
What a world they lived in! He was
even yet bewildered by his glimpse into
it. Every luxury and delight waited on
the lifting of their hand :. Libraries,
galleries of art, operas, balls, voyages to
Europe, to the Nile! This was life! He
wanted more of it— more of it.
Mrs. Mitchner had asked him to cone
often: had ollerod to introduce him to
her friends, “a guy young set,” she said.
He walked up and down the room,
flushed and panting. lie had never
dreamed of such a world! He must see
more of ft! How stale and dull the
Latin and m dliemato a seemed now’
But how to <outpu*s Itf He could not
fO •gain without • dress-iuit. lie bed
seen one that da; is a second-hand shop,
very cheap. His blood grew hot at the
idea of wearing some other man’s cast-off
clothes, but ho pushed that thought
saide.
How could he 'else the money ? He
drew out his watch. It was a gold one,
the one luxurious possession in the fam
ily. His father had solemnly given it to
him when he left home, saying:
“It was my father's. I’ve kept it in
any bureau drawer for twenty years.
Take it, David. ‘You’re goin’ out into
the world. Y'ou’l: never disgrace it, my
boy.” Remembering the old man’s face
aa he said this, Darid thrust it back into
his pocket.
►' “what a snob-1 am! To pavt with
daddy’s watch for a suit of old clothes
But the next moment he thought that
he could pawn it. He would soon have
it back. Save the money, or earn it—
somehow.
It was not as if he were yielding to a
vicious temptation-*? the towa—gambling
or drinking. The society of these high
bred people would elevate, educate him.
There was a tap at the door, and Mitch
ener came in.
“No, can’t sit down; I’m in a hurry.
Brought a message from my mother. She
would like to have you join an opera
party to night. "Eight or ten young
people. Meet at cur house, box at the
opera, and back to supper afterward.
You’ll come? That’s right. Good
morning!”
No! no! Stay! Mr. Mitehener I” His
common-sense suddenly rose strong and
clear. “I ought not to begin this life. ,
It’s your life, not mine. I'm a poor man.
I have four years of hard work here be
fore me, and after that my living to earn.
Even the hour at your house yesterday
ruined me for study to-day.”
“Weill well!”said Jourdan,carelessly.
“Don’t be so vehement about it. Going
once to the opera will not make you a
man of fashion for life. Think it over,
and come. Give the college the go-by
for a'day.
“Oh, by the way!” he added, coloring
a little. “Can Ibe of pecuniary service
to you, Kershaw? No, don’t be offended.
I have more of the filthy lucre than I
know what to do with. The fact is, I
was just going to buy a terrier that I
don’t want. Now, if I could lend the
money to you, it would be a real pleasure
tomfl.”
“Thank you!” Kershaw stammered,
touched, yet angry. “I do not need any
money. I have everything I need—
clothes and all,” he added, with a gulp. !
“Now Imb in -for it!” he groaned,
when. Mitehener was gone. “If I don’t
go to their party, they’ll think I had no 1
clothes fit to wear. The watch has to
g° ! ” Va *1 v
He paced the floor, one minute blaming
himself for a snob,’the next thrilled with
delight at the thought of the evening’s
pleasure. His brioks lay neglected all
aay. He ecmldtiror qifet the raging
whirl and confusion in his mind enough
to think of study.
He decided on nothing until nearly
dark, when he rushed out, pawned the
watch for one-fourth its value, arid
boughtthe evening suit. There was not
money enough left to buy the shoes, j
gloves, etc., necessary to complete the
dress. When he was ready to ’go, even
hislnexperienced eye could see that his
costume did not set on him as if it were
made for him.
Rut what matter? His friends—his
welcome—the music. Who would care
what clothes he wore?
Arrived at Mrs.Mitchener’a, he did not
find himself at all at ease. That lady
was quite occupied with her duties as
hostess, and received him with careless 1
civilty, giving her attention to her other
guests. They talked of people and things
of which ho knew nothing. The tall,
awkward lad, his hair carefully oiled and
parted, his red hands protruding from his
short coat-sleeves, sat silent, and felt
thoroughly miserable and out of place.
Now and then ho thought he saw one of
the dainty women near by scanning him
with furtive glances.
They drove to the opera-house and en
tered one of the proscenium boxes.
Davd had a seat at the back, where he
could catch but an occasional glimpse of
the stage and the brilliant audience. He
had been the leader of the choir at home,
and fond of the waltzes and marches
which his sister played on the old piano,
and fancied himself a connoisseur in
music. But he was not educated to un
derstand this music.
Avery pretty, flighty young lady, Mrs.
Bellew, who was the chaperone of the
party, tried politely to make him talk to
her, but in vain. She turned to Jourdan
at last with a shrug of her bare shoul
ders.
“Your friend,’’she whispered, “seems
to be absorbed by his own thoughts. He
does not look as if he were enjoying
himself. Who is he?”
“One of my mother’s last hobbies; a
student in the college from the coun
try, ’’ he replied, in the same tone.
They turned to the stage. Kershaw
saw their smiles, and knew they were
talking of him. His brain was on fire.
Why had he come here? Was he not the
equal of these dainty folk, as well-born,
as virtuous, as clever, as they? They
dared to despise him became he was
awkward and ill-dressed:
In his embarrassment and misery he
thrust his hand into the breast-pocket of
his coat, and drew out a little painted
paper tablet, which he fingered mechan
ically, scarcely noticing what it was un
til he saw Mrs. Bellew’s eyes fixed on it
witn amazement and suspicion. When
the curtain fell on the first act. she came
W-k to him, making some incoherent
remarks about the play, while she looked
at him keenly. Suddenly she grew pale,
and interrupting herself in the middle of
a sentence, said to Kershaw; ‘. ‘Will you
be good enough at the close of the next
act to go with me and Mr. Mitchener into
the anteroom? I would like to speak
with you.”
When they had reached the anteroom
at the close of the act, she said: “I have
a most disagreeable question to ask, Mr.
Kershaw. Our house was robbed by
burglars last Monday, aad silver and jew
■m. Among
of my hus
rs. Bellew?”
e dress suit
n,excitedly,
refore it was
he put my
it, in one
y ruby ring,
glove. Mr,
| Kershaw Iwm the tablet in bis pocket”
Kershaw mechanically thrust his hand
into the pocket of the coat, and brought
out the tablet and a second later the ring,
which had caught in the lining and so
escaped the notice of the thief. He
silently held them out to her. The power
of speech and action seemed to be frozen
out of him with horror. Mitehener looked
at him excitedly, but said, politely:
“Have you any objections to telling
Mrs. Bellow how the suit came in your
possession?”
KeYshaw stared at him a moment, full
of repugnance and contempt for himself.
These were “his new friends!” this was
the party he had parted with his old
father’s gift to enter!
“I did not, of course, steal the clothes,”
he said at last. “You cannot really think
I did that. But I bought them at a pawn
shop to-day. 1 pawned my watch to do
it. I wanted to come here.”
“All jight! all right!” interposed
Mitehener, soothingly. “You can send
Mr. Ytellew the name of the pawnbroker
and ho will recover his silver and jew
elry. Mrs. Bellew, the curtain is up.”
She fluttered softlv b*ck to her seat, ar
ranging her airy draperies and flowers,
and glanced meaningly at young Mitch
ener, as If to express disgust for the
poor wreteh who had bought cast-off
clothes to thrust himself in among peo
ple whom he regarded ns his superiors.
David saw it all, and rose from his seat
panting and trembling.
“Sit. down! Sit down!, Kershaw!”
said Mitehener, putting his hand on his
shoulder. David shook it off.
“No; I’ve been a fool, but I’Te dona
with it all now. I’ll send back the
clothes—”
“Ohno!”aaid Mrs Bellew, looking
back with a supercilious smile. “Pray
keep them.”
David left the box, and rushing home,
stunned with rage and shame, tore off
the stolen clothes and carried them to
Mr. Bellew’s house. The next day
Mitcl)6ner, who had a good deal of kind
ness and tact, arranged the matter. The
pawnbroker, who was a receiver of
stolen goods, was forced to give up the
plate, jewelry and David’s watch. The
thieves were discovered and punished.
Mrs. Mitehener, still loyal to her old
friend, sent David an invitation to a ball
tho next week. He declined it. ‘,‘l have
made a mistake,” he told Jourdan, “but
I will not do It again. My path in life
is straight before me. With God’s help.
I willJmepin .it.”
His Ditter humiliation hft ! d taught him
juster views of life. As time passed, he
mo4e4rieads among the other students,
clever,, unpretentious young fellows, who,
like himself, 'had their own way to make
in life. His college days passed- quickly.
Hp studied medicine, and returned to his
nntiye town to practice.
Twenty years afterward, Mr. Jourdan
Mitehener, passing through this town,
now one of the mo6t important cities in
-P<Umsylvanuu4M>nac’ iir!dsaLy..ilV-**-
was attended for several weeks by Dr.
Kershaw. He hoard from others of the
high position held by the physician in
the commodity; not only as the head of
his profession, but as an influential citi
zen, foremost in every good work, the
founder of asylums, while h : s family were
the centre of the most cultured circle in
tho city. ’
Mitehener had married a very wealthy
woman, and had continued to live only
in pursuit of fashionable amusement.
“And what linvo I gained by it?” he
thought, bittcriy. “If I were to die to
morrow. I should be remembered only ns
the man who kept the best FrenT-h cook
in New York.”
“You were right,” he said to the doc
tor when he came that afternoon. “You
were right to keep to your own straight,
honorable path, and refuse to ape
fashion."
“I tried it once, you remember,”.said
the doctor, smiling. “The most for
tunate event of my life was my humilia
tion about my pawned watch. It was a
bitter dose, but it cured me effectually.
Every tick of this old watch since”—
drawing it out —“has said to me: ‘Don’t
be a snob. Keep steadily on your own
path.’ 1 owe much to Mrs. Bellew. Her
treatment of me and my foolish act
turned me back from the wrong road. It
would have made my life a failure.’’—
Youth'i Companion.
Transforming Shakespeare’s Sayings.
All the simple proverbs used in our
every-day work and life are drawn from
Shakespeare. A few of them are: .
Shakespeare:
The sun snifies hot, and if we use delay
Cold-biting winter mars our hoped-for hay.
Modern form: Make bay while the sun
shines.
Shakespeare.
What fates impose, that men most needs abide,
It boots not to resist both wind and tide.
Modern form: Wind and tide wait for no
man.
(Shakespeare: ’Tis the more honor, because
more dangerous.
Modern form.- The place of honor is the
post of danger.
Shakespeare: I will arm me, being thus
forewarned.
Modern form: Forewarned, forearmed
Shakespeare: Both of you are birds of
self-same feather.
Modern form: Birds of a feather flock to
gether.
Shakespeare: Strike now or else the iron
cools. *
Modern form: Strike while the iron is hot.
Shakespeare:
“That would be a ten days’ wonder at the
least,
That's a day longer than a wonder lasts.”
Modem form: A nine days’ wonder.
Shakespeare: The common people swarm
like summer flies.
Mo !ern form: Swarm like flies.
Shakespeare: And I forgive and quite
forget old faults.
Modern form: Forgive and forget
The Mysterious Sphinx.
The Sphinx Occupies a position where
the encroachment of the desert is most
conspicuous At the present day nothing
is to be seen of the animal except its
head and its the old Egyptian
moniuimnts on which it is figured show
not only the entire body down to the
paws, but also a large square plinth be
neath covered with ornuments. Since
the time of the Greeks, perhaps even
since the reign of Thothmos I V. , this
plinth has disappeared beneath the sand,
and its very existence had been forgot
ten. It is generally supposed that the
Sphinx is hewn out of a large isolated
rock, which overlooked the plain. But
M. Maspero’s recent researches suggest
that it is a work yet more stupendous.
He has proved that the Sphinx occupies
the centre of an amphitheatre, forming
a kind of rocky hasiu, the upper rim ol
which is about on a level with the head
of the animal. The walls of this utnphi
theatre, wherever visible, sre cut by th
hand of uau „ ,
' BUDGET OF FUN.
HUMOBOUB SKETCHES FROM
VARIOUS SOU RGBS.
Greater than Herrmann—A Saving
Philosopher—He was an Kxt 1-
inator—Rico nt the Fair
lie Didn’t Jump, Etc.
“That Parisian trick—the Vanishing
Lady—that Herrmann do|g is a great
one,” said Jones. “He covers a lady
with a veil,fend after a little manoeuvring
removes the veil, and the lady .has dis
appeared.”
“That’s nothing to a young lady in our
boarding house,” answered Brown. “I
have seen ten or twelve persons in the
parlor, aDd this young lady come in, sit
down to the piauo, and begin to play
and sing. In two minutes all the rest
had disappeared. Talk about Herrmann!
He ain't a patch to her.” —New Tori Hun
A Savins Philosopher.
Wandering phisosophor—“Yes, my
dear sir, I’ve reckoned up that by walk
ing down town to my business every day
I have saved S3OO in the last ten years.”
Indifferent fellow (who always rides) —
“And your health is better, too?”
Philosopher—“Oh,’much better." ,
Indifferent fellow—“ Well, l am out
that much. Good day! ”
Philosopher—“ Ah—by the way could
you lend me $5 for a few days?”— New
York Graphic.
•
He was an Estimator.
“What’s all this crowd doing here?”
asked a stranger, as he found the pave
ment blockaded in front of a Broadway
store.
“Why,” replied a bystander, “the
proprietor offers a prize for the closest
guess as to the number of beans iu that
bottle.”
“How arc the guoses ruuning?”
“From 000 up to 15,000.”
“Oh, pshawl Why, there must be at
least 100,000 bennß in that bottle.”
“Where might you be from, stranger? ?
“I? Oh, I’m from the West. I’ve
been out there estimating the population
of cities from the number of names in the
directories. ” Tid-Bite.
Rice at the Fair.
Everybody, almost, knows what a
wide-out short-up figure Billy Rice, the
minstrel, has. Well, about two weeks
ago (at least so we arc informed) Billy
was at an agricultural show in a one-
Kt-stund town, and ps he stood in- a
ffhtful attitudo contemplating the
exlAum, the editor of the county paper
and n farmer passed by.
“Look there,” whispered the editor,
‘that’s llice.”
“WhAefl’ inquired the farther.
—•“tHtt)Tg, u - .gating to.,
ward William.
“Rice?” repeated the farmer inquir
ing^-
“Yes.”
“Well, by gosh, it’s the funniest rice
I ever seen. It looks a blame sight more
like a punkin. Lo’s go an’ take a look
at it.”
Billy met the farmer half way and
paralyzed him.— Washington, Critic.
Ho Didn't tTuinp.
Sunday afternoon a man suddenly ap
peared nt a three-story window in an un
finished building on Grand River street
and seemed to begin preparations to
commit suicide by leaping to the pave
ment. A crowd of forty or fifty people
speedily gathered in a half-circle below,
and although all seemed to be aware of
what was going on not a voice was
raised to .prevent the stranger carrying
out Ilia designs. He removed his coat
and looked down as if estimating the
distance. Then he removed his vest
and looked down again. Some of the
crowd asked each other in low tones if
his intention was to jump, and were an
swered that there wns no doubt of it.
The man removed his collar and tie after
his vest, and then Bpit on his hands and
took his position square in the window.
No one below moved a foot. There was
half a minute of silence, during which
everybody mentally calculated on the
exact spot he would strike, and some
thing like a shudder passed over the
crowd. Then the unknown spit on his
hands once more, raised them above his
head, and calmly remarked:
“My friends,this is to inform you that
1 shall occupy this buildiDg November 1
with a large and well selected stock of
staple and fancy groceries. I shall do a
strictly cash business, and it will be my
aim to ”
But the last one bad turned the corner.
—Detroit Free Press.
The Fatal Folding Bed.
An expression of profound gloom on
the face of a friend led to inquiries which
elicited a talc of sorrow and suffering.
“Do I look mournful?” he asked. “Do
I bear the appearance of a man whose
soul has been entered by the iron of ad
versity? AVell, that’s the way I feel.
“You know, I moved day before yes
terday. Well, hurt by the unfeeling re
marks of my late landlady and the fact
that she retained my trunk (as a gage
d’amour, I suppose) I sought the seclu
sion of a West Side boarding house. The
room is pleisnnt and the man who occu
pies the'other half a very nice fellow.
Night before last I went home early, and
when ready my new chum boldly ap
proached an innocent-looking piece of
furniture, and after a little sparing
for time let in with right and left
and brought to view a comfortable
bed. I had never seen a folding-bed
before, and was a little astonished.
However, I made no remarks but turned
in. Last night my chum was out, and
I didn't know what to do. I loafed
around the room, now and then casting
a glance at the folded bed and admiring
its compactness and air of gentility, but
somehow I did not feel like tackling it
all by myself. But it had to be done. 1
remembered that my cl.um had first
lifted the top. 1 did that. But when 1
let go it came back with a slam that
started the baby owned by tbe second
floor front into n wild symphony of woe.
Then I sat down and thought. To gain
time on the bed I undressed. Hay, did
it strike you as chilly last night? No?
AVell. it was. Indeed, It- was cold. The
combination of that fact and my abbre
viated costume urged me to renew tbe
attack. Thlf time I pushed the top past
the center of tire spring, and when re
leased it went on with a noise loud
enough to arouse tbe pug in tbe room
OWB DOLLAR Per Ammmm, h llimi
across the hall. By that time I was reck
less. I seized a strap and pulled. The
whole thing began to come. I strapped
it half way and considered. Considering
was bard work. Po was holding. I
nulled. It came, and I went. But I
didn’t go far enough, and the bed canght
me. 1 was underneath. The Charleston
man on the floor below dreamed he was
at home.
“Well, when I got out and took an in
ventory, I was minhs considerable akin,
but the accession of my eyebrow bal
anced things. The bed was open, but
the middle was way below the average.
But I was too impatient to be particular.
With considerable emphasis I turned, oat
the gas and rolled in. As aeon as I hit
the bed it shut up—that is, as close as it
could. It was close enough. For atxmt
ten minutes I would have swapped
places with any one of the seven anar
chists and given him odds. When I got
out of that place there was not enough
left of the bed-clothes to make a respect
able bandage. I know, because I tried
it. What I suffered yoa will never
know.
“This morning the landlady informed
me, that had she known I was subject to
delirium tremens, she would have re
fused the admittance that gave me a
chance to ruin the reputation of her
boarding house. As I left the house the
boarders posed their heads out and whis
pered : ‘That’s him; he had ’em bad last
night,’ and similar encouraging remarks.
—New York Newt.
Mother Goose.
Mother Goose's maiden name was
Elisabeth Foster. She was born in
Charlestown, Mass., in 1635,’and married
Isaac Goose, of Boston, in 1603. She
was his second mate, and began her ma
ternal life a stepmother to ten children.
She added six more to that number.
Think of it 1, Sixteen gosling to a single
goose] Is it any wonder fliat she poured
out her feelings in the celebrated lines:
"There was an old woman, who lived in a
shoe,
She had so many children the didn’t know
Whattodol”
Yet her family cares sat, upon
her and she survived Fairier GoosVmany
years. Still, she stayed by hif nest and
fed her flock until they were able toswim
By themselves. Oqe of her daughters
married Thomas Fleet, a printer by trade,
with whom Bho went to live and insisted
on being a nurse to his children, and
there she lived and sang from morning
until'night:
‘‘Up stairs and down stairs,
And in my Judy’s chamber.”
Thomas Fleet, sold sopgs and ballads
at hit printing office, arid one day a
happy thought struck him. So,-while
she sat in her arm-chair or shuffled about
the house lost in sweet dreams, he care
fully wrote down what lie could of her
rhymes which fell from her lips. Soon
-lift hud turnnoh b vAS-f-C ,AJ£>A umc -
These Tie now printed Alia sold nnaer the
tlt’o of “Mother Goose Melodies for Chil
dren. T. Fleet, Printer. Pudding Lane,
1711). Price, two coppers.” The Kev.
J. M. Manning, D. D., formerly pastor
of the Old South Church, Boston, at a
festival not many years ritjee spoke very
truly, to my mind, when he said: “Not
Homer or Shakespeare is so sure of im
mortal fame a* Mother Goose. Consid
ering the love iuphich her melodies
everywhere freedom from any
thing which might corrupt or mislead
the infantile mind, their practical-wis
dsm, their shrewd mystery and motives
of human conduct, one is in all soberness
forced to admit that her name is among
the the jewels which adorn
the brow of the Old South. Let us hop#
that the day is not far distant when a
memorial statue will be erected to this
venerable old lady in one of the parks or
squares of Boston.” Lewislon {Me.)
Journal.
Capital Punishment In China.
In China, writes a Chinaman in the
Columbia Jurist, capital punishment often
depends upon the whim of the officer of
the law. Here is an instance: Fen Ta
Ren, the Rear Admiral of the Yangtze
district, was passing up that river and
chanced to overhear a quarrel between a
boatmen and a soldier over the matter of
two cash—the price ef ferriage across a
small stream. The Admial took in the
situation. The soldier had been ferried
over the stream, and then refused to pay
the poor ferryman. There was a principle
involved. A large number of soldieis
were looking on and apparently enjoying
the ferryman’s rago at the loss of his
wages. An example was needed, and
the “Croat Man,” as his name signifies,
who was incognito, being on a tour of
personal inspection, ordered the soldier
beheaded, which was done on the spot.
Willful murder, piracy and confirmed
thieves fall under the beheadsman ax.
Infanticide, however, is not included aa
murder. The parent, by Chinese law,
has the right of life over his own child;
hence the practice of female infanticide. -
* Capital punishment can be met by
proxy and the law be satisfied. It is
uncommon, therefore, when a man of
money is sentenced to death that he can,
by the use of money, secure a stay of
proceedings long enough to obtain a sub
stitute. T his is done by making an offer
of one, two or more hundred “taels”
ounces of silver, about 1881 cents, our
standard) for a substitute. Some impe
cunious family, often having 200 or 800
members, as the patriarchal plan of do
mestic economy prevails, will agree
a nong themselves that they will furnish
a substitute for the proffered sum. Lot
is then cast to determine the victim, and
the doomed man accepts his fate with
stoical indifference upon-Ahe ultra pre
destination theory that bis time has come,
else the lot would not have fallen to him
individually. He accordingly presents
himself to the court, and the convicted
man dies by proxy, while the family of
the deceased enjoy the proceeds of the
arrangement.
It is the most humiliating of our conti
nental disgraces that a man can steal
$.■(00,000 in the United States and be
protected from punishment by the Cana
dian government. And it is a sad com
mentary on our civilization that the two
greatest nations of the earth can not
agree upon a plan of extradition which
shall not be in favor of thieves and ras
cals.— Chicago News.
('harleston has hail eight earthquakes
since ita settlement in iBO. The first
was In (Tut and t*e last before the re
ent destructive oe was in I*3*. None
were attended with loss of life or, ex
cepting that In mil, with damage to
property. M .
NO. 43.