Newspaper Page Text
WALTER 8. COLEMAN, Editor aid Proprietor.
VOL. XII.
ELLIJAY COURIER
PUBLISHED EVERY THITBSDA Y
—T—
WALTER S. COLEMAN.
GENERAL DIRECTORY.
Superior Coart meets 3d Monday in
May and 2nd Monday in October.
COUNTT OFFICERS.
J. C. Allen, Ordinary.
T. W. Craigo, Clerk Superior Court.
M. L. Cox, Sheriff.
•I. It. Kinciad, Tax Collector.
Locke Langley, Tax Receiver.
Jas. M. West, Surveyor.
G. W. Rice, Coroner.
Court of Ordinary meets Ist Monday
in each mouth.
TOWN COUNCIL.
E. W. Coleman, Intendant.
L. R. Greer,
J.' f cSjfjr. | Commissioners.
T. J. Long, ]
W. H. Foster, Marshal.
RELIGIOUS SERVICES.
Methodist Episcopal Church South—
Every 3d Sunday and Saturday licfore.
G. W. Griner.
Baptist Church—Every 2il ail 4
Sunday, by Rev E. B. SUoi>e.
Methodist Episcopal Church—Every
Ist Saturday and Sunday, by Rev. T. G.
('base.
FRATERNAL RECORD.
Oak Bowery Lodge, No. 81, F. A. M.,
meets Ist Friday in each month.
L. B. Greer, W. M.
T. 11. Tabor, S. W.
J. W. ITipp, .1. W.
It. Z. Roberts, Treasurer.
I). Gnrrcn.S ecretnry.
W. S. Coleman, 8. L).
W. C. Allen, J. D.
H. Garren, Tyler.'
R. T. PICKENS,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
JS ELI JAY, GEORGIA.
Will practice in nil the conrts of Gil
mer nml adjoining counties. Estates
mul interest in land a specialty. Prompt
attention given to all collections.
M, J. R. JOBHSOR,'
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, GA
Will practice in Bin • Iti.lge Circuit, Count,
Court Justice Court of Oilmer County. Legal
business solicited. “Pi oroptnsu” is our motto.
DR. J. S. TANKERSLEY,
Physician aud Surgeon,
TemVrs his professional services to tho citi
tens of Ellijay, GUmor and surrounding coun
iies. Alt calls promptly attend *d to. Office
epatairs over tho firm of Cobb & Son.
MFE WALDO THORNTON. D.D.S.
DENTIST,
Calhoun, Ga.
W ill visit Ellijav 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 making the visit.
Address as above. Tma.v2l.-li
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 comfort unexcelled, and the
magnificent Minetal Springs is its chief
attraction. For other particulars on
board, etc., address,
• Mrs. W. F. Robertson,
Ellijay, Ga.
$25,000.00
IN GOLD!
IYII.I. HE PAID FOB
ARBUCKLES’ COFFEE WRAPPERS.
1 Premium, - - 51,000.00
2 Premiums, - $500.00 each
C Premiums, - $250.00 “
25 Premiums, - 8100.00 “
100 Premiums, * 550.00 “
200 Premiums, - $20.00 ”
1,000 Premiums, • SIO.OO
For full particulars and directions see Circu
lar in every pound of Arbi*ckleh’ Co vrve.
FOB GOOD
108 PRINTING
—4O TO ra-
ELLIJAV COUltlElt.
THE ELLIJAY COURIER.
A DIFFERENT VIEW.
I like not these grim sages, who would .pray
For solitude ami silence, far apart
From the fierce beating of the vast world's
heart--
Who would ere night their burdens lay away,
Ami in some cavern's dim and ghostly shade
Would nurse their wounds and count the
battle sears
That they received in many hanl-fought
wars.
And tell the agony the sword-thrust made.
This is not life, nor is this longing meet
For men whose blasted live3 again may
bud.
For mo—ah, this would seem to me most
sweet—
To stand breast high within tho soething
flood,
Unsheltered to the noonday’s fiercest heat,
On truth and right bestowed my heart's
best blood.
—Alice if. Schoff.
BARBARA’S LEGACY.
“If any relatives of tho late James
Hanford, some time curate of Widston,
be still living, they may hear something
to their advantage by applying to
Messrs. Dod & Son, Solicitors, King
street.”
Barbara Reed put down the paper with
a jerk.
“I wonder if that means me,” she said,
thoughtfully. “Sly grandfather’s name
was certainly James Hanford, and I
know he was a curate, but I did not
know (here was any money in the
family.”
“If you think it worth while, go to
Slc-srs. Dod & Son and find out,” sug
gested a sharp-featured elderly lady,
who sat slitching at the table oppo
site.
“Of course I will!” Why, there may
be five thousand pounds waiting for me
there.”
“Or five pounds, more likely,” supple
mented tho stitcher.
Barbara laughed. “I’d rather think
of the thousands, Mrs. Stewart; they
would be much more to my advan
tage.”
“I know of something that would be
more for your advantage than all the
money you are ever likely to'get from
advertisements, if you had but the good
sense to see it,” returned that lady sig
nificantly.
Barbara flushed as she left the room
to get her cloak and bonnet and set out
for home. She was the music-mistress in
Mrs. Stewart’s school, and had been one
of the most promising pupils in it before
that. She was almost alone in the world,
except for a distant aunt with whom she
lived, and after school ended it became
neecbsnry that she should ®*Rfnething
toward keeping up the little household,
and she had been very glad w-lien Mrs.
Stewart’s proposal to retain her far the
younger girls’ music lessons saved her
from applying to strangers. Still, not
withstanding her obligations, there were
times when Barbara felt strongly dis
posed to jirotest against that lady’s au
thority, which was pretty much as it had
been in the days she was ‘ ‘ quite a child, ”
as Barbara often phrased it to herself.
“felie never seems to remember that I
am grown up and able to manage my
own affairs. ■ It does not follow that
because I was her pupil once she has any
right to interfere in this manner now.”
She was marching down the road, her
head well up, while she argued the matter
but to her own satisfaction, when some
one quietly fell into step beside her.
The shadow vanished from her brow
like morning mist as she looked around.
“What are you in such a hurry for? I
could scarcely keep you in sight,” in
quired the new comer. ■ -*'v
It was tho subject of Mrs. Stewart’s
admonition, her drawing-master—clever
enough at his profession, but of his in
dustry and general dependableness she
had not the highest opinion. Not so
Miss Barbara,, who was fast developing a
very warm sentiment tor the good look
ing young artist.
“I am going h°uic to deposit my mu
sic, and after that I think of making a
journey into the city, to King street.”
“King street! That is an expedition.”
“Isn’t it! But I have some idea of
coming into a fortune, and that is the
place I am to apply to.”
Mr. Lawrence’s face showed such
genuine interest in the news that
Barbara speedily toi# him all she knew,
perhaps with a little unconscious ex
aggeration, by way of justifying her first
announcement.
“You will be sure and let me. know
the result of your expedition? ’ 1 be Said,.
earnestly, with a lingering clasp of the
hand, as he left her at the corner of her
own street. “I shall be-most anxious-1*
hear, and no one deserves such a fortune
better than yourself.
The dingy, jolting omnibus that con
veyed Barbara to the city that afternoon
might have been a royal chariot for all
she felt of it. She was absorbed in
K visions of her coming greatness.
>re of the interminable practicing
at Mrs. Stewart’s lor herself, no drawing
lessons for someone else. Who could
tell but next May there might be anew
member at the Academy, anew picture
to attract all eyes? No man tied down
to mere teaching could have a fair
chance. Barbara’s face glowed with the
thought that it might be her hand that
should set the fettered genius free.
The glow was still there when she
turned into King street and ran full
against a plain, rather commonplace,
young man coming out of one of the
warehouses. “Why, Miss Barbara, it is
not often you find your way to this
quarter,” he said, as he held out his hand.
It was a brown, ungloved hand, and
bore evident traces of hard service.
Barbara gave the tips of her fingers
rather coolly, constrasting it with the
wcll-shaiicd yellow-gloved one that had
pressed hers a little before.
“I came on some business, Mr. Grant,”
abc said. “I believe there is a legacy
waiting for me; it is advertised in the
papers, and I am going to sec the solici
tors now.”
John Grant laughed. Well, I hope
you may get it, Miss Barbara; for my
self, I never had much faith in legacies
since I wasted twenty-five shillings once
in answeriug advertisements about one.”
“That may have been a very different
matter from this,” returned Barbara,
sillily. “I Imd In tier not detain you
any longer, Mr. Giant.”
“And ilia’ is the man Mrs Klewsrt
thinks worih half s ileus like Alfre I
Jawn me!" said Barbara Us herself, as
“A MAP OP BUST LIFE—ITS FLfCTI'ATIONS AM) ITS VAST CONCERNS."
ELLIJAY. GA„ THURSDAY', NOVEMBER 3. 1887.
she walked into Messrs. Dod & Son’s
office. ,e
Her face was several shades longer
when she came out agnin. Messrs. Dod A
Son had not received her with by any
means the respectful enthusiasm she cx
l>ccted. There had been awkward ques
tions to answer aud proofs and genealo
gies that she had not been prepared to
answer; indeed, she had half fancied
they took her for au impostor, they had
been so reluctant to port with any infor
mation. She should hear from them in
a few days, and in the meantime she must
kindly fill in the answers to certain ques
tions on a paper they had given her.
“And I thought I should almost have
had it iu my pocket by this time,” she
said to herself, ruefully. “Well, I must
have patience for another week or so. It
is sure to be settled thou; only—only
I’d have liked to have something certain
to tell Mr. Lawrence.”
Mr. Lawrence sympathized with her
over the delay almost ns deeply as she
did with herself when she told him the
result of her visit the next day. Barbara
was quite struck with the way he seemed
to enter into all her feelings.
“And they did not even give you an
idea how much it was.likely to be?” he
asked.
“Not exactly,” admitted Barbara;
“but they were so cautious I could tell
by their manner that It must be a good
deal.”
“I don’t know if that is altogether a
criterion.' These old lawyers are very
deceptive sometimes,” he replied. “How
ever, you cau get that paper tilled up and
sent in; and I would not lose any time
about it, if I were you,” he added. -
John Grant was the next person to
whom she had to explain her non-suc
cess.
“Just what I expected, Miss Barbara,”
ho said, cheerfully. “One is never sure
of a chance of that kind till one has
actually got it. I would not build upon
it in auy way, if I were in your plwc.”
“Y’ou don’t seem to have had a for
tunate experience in that way,” retorted
Barbara, ungratefully. “It is only de
ferred in this case, aud I am iu no hurry
for a few days.” „
“Days!” echoed John. “There’s a
man in our office has waited years, and
is likely to wait, as far as lean see.”
' Mrs. Stewart was another painful
thorn in tho path at this juncture.
“Barbara, my dear,” she remarked one
day after school was dismissed, “were
you paying any attention whatever to the
practice this afternoon?” Barbara flushed
scarlet. “I was beside the piano the
whole time,” she declared,. •
“Your body fnay have been there, but
your mind certainly was not. Now, my
dear, you must really endeavor to put this
unfortunate legacy out of you* head for
"tfic present ; you nave been fit for very
little since it was first mentioned. So
far it has proved decidedly tho reverse
of any advantage to you.” *•
Ten days later came the much-looked
for communication from Messrs. Dod &
Son. “They were in receipt of Miss
Reed’s paper, and could assure her the
mutter should have their best attention,
and were hers most obediently,” etc.
Barbara flung it into her desk with a
disappointed face. It was tedious to be
obliged to wait in suspense like this. She
would hardly know how to get through
the time but for Mr. Lawrence’s attention
and warm interest in the upshot. -> John
Grants’s indifference, * not Vto say
scepticism, on the subject threw up his
rival’s superior qualities in full relief, and
yet there were times when Barbara felt
just a little puzzled that Mr. Lawrence
went no farther. With all his solicitude,
and looks that said more than words, he
never absolutely committed himself to
anything more binding than friendship.
“I can’t ask him,” she said.one day,
under her breath, as she walked slowly
home after one of these “accidental”
meetings. “But, oh, Ido wish he would
say straight out what lie means, or else
keep away altogether. It makes one feel
so unsettled. ’ ■. ■-■
Poor Barbara was to feel more unset
tled still before she reached home. It
was a lovely summer evening, and fifty
yards farther on she was joined by an
other cavalier—John Grant this time.
She shrank back at first, half afraid of
some jesting inquiry after Messrs. Dod
& Sod, but she speedily discovered that
he seemed to have forgotten their very
existence. There was something else in
his mind, and he lost no time irr saying
very “straight out” indeed what it was.
“I may not be able to offer you a fine
house and luxuries,” he said, “but I have
saved plenty to begin in comfort, and I
think we mig.it be very happy together if
you would, only try. I have thought
about it for the last two years and worked
hard to be able to tell you so.”
Barbara looked up him with genuine
tears in her eyes. “lam so sorry!” she
said. “I never thought of such a thing
—at least, not in serious earnest, ”as she
remembered sundry remarks of Mrs.
Stewart’s. “Besides, there's lots of other
better girls you might find.”
“That is not tho point,” he interrup
ted"; “it’s you, not other girls, I want.
Try and think of it, Barbara. I don’t
want to hurry you, but let me have a line
as soon as you can; it means a good deal
to me.”
Barbara went home in kind of a haze.
.She had never thought so highly of John
Grant and his straightforward depend
nblcness as at that moment; but, on the
other hand, there .was Mr. Lawrence,
with his handsome face aud dashing
manner, and there was a little undefined
sense of resentment against Mrs. Stewart,
who had always been a strong, if not en
tirely judicious advocate for John Grant;
and—and theft'there was this probab’c
fortune thijt might be coming to her.
Barbara laoked at the peaceful evening
sky in sore perplexity us to what she
ought to do, or what she really wished.
“He said he didn’t want to huriy me,”
she decided, finally. “I'll just wait and
see how things go.”
For another week or two things con
tinued to go in much the same fashion.
Mrs. Stewart wore a chronic air of disap
proval. John Grant was Invisible. Only
Mr. Lnwreueo was to the fore with hi*
>syni|>uthetic inquiries, but in some mys
terious way Barbara began to find them
Irritating rather than flattering. Shu got
tir<<l of having the sumo response:
“Nothing yet," and of hearing the same
iiolite remarks alsnit his admiration of
ier. They did not go deep enough. “If
he lias, nothing moiu Ilian that to say lie
ought not to have said it at all," she re.
fleeted, contrasting it half iiiieonselously
with John Grant s very uptiovite lino of
conduct.
At last, one Saturday morning, as slio
was setting out for Mrs. Stewart’s she
met tho postman, who gave her a blue
official-looking envelope. Barbara stood
still on the steps, holding her breath as
she opened it.
“Messrs. Dod & Son’s compliments to
Miss Reed, and beg to inform her that
Mrs. Elizabeth Drake has been proved tho
nearest kin, and consequently heir-at
law to the £SOO left by flic late Mr. Jas.
Handford.”
Miss Reed folded up the letter and put
it soberly into her jacket pocket. She
had scarcely realized before how much
she had been counting upon it. There
was nothing left now but to put on a
brave face and make the. best of it.
“Mrs. Stewart," she sid, knocking nt
the door of that lady’s sitting-room be
fore she began her moriiug practice, “I
want to tell you I have heard about that
legacy at last.”
“Well?” Mrs. Stewart looked up from
her desk, pen in hand.
“It’s not well,” said Barbara, trying to
smile. “There is someone nearer than I
am—a Mrs. Elizabeth Drake. She gets
it all—it was £500.”
Mrs. Stewart laid down her pen and
patted the girl’s shoulder,kindly. “Never
mind, Barbara; you may be glad to have
missed it some day, though it’s not pleas
ant now. There are many other good
things in the world beside money.”
“It would have helped very nicely,
though, ” sighed Barbara.
“No.doubt ; but it’s not to be, so just
try and forget it. You know you are not
utterly dependent upon it.”
As Barb -a crossed the hall to the
school-room that afternoon she encoun
tered Mr. Lawrence. He was standing at
the table buttoning his light gloves. She
saw at tho first glance that Mrs. Stewart
had told him of her disappointment. She
hesitated one instant, then wont straight
up to him.
“You see I am not to come into a for
tune after all,” she said ouictly.
“So it seems,” he said coldly, not
looking up from a refractory button.
“ But it was not much of a fortune after
all. I thought it was to be five or six
times that amount.”
“ I wish I had never heard of it, ” spoke
Barbara, looking at him in scornful sur
prise. “It has been nothing but an up
set and annoyance.”
“ Y-es, it is rather a pity—disappoint
ing and waste of fime, too’. Well, lam
going into the country for a few weeks,
Misi Reed, so good afternoon if I don’t
chance to see you again.”
“Good afternoon,” returned Barbara,
with a frigid bow, as she opened the
door.
A tiny note waadroppei) into the pillar
post that same evening addressed to Mr.
John Grant.,
“Dear John,” it ran, “I’m not half
good enough for you, but if you still
wish it—l’ll try. ”
It was not, perhaps, a great achieve
ment in tho way of composition for a
young lady who had been under Mrs.
Stewart’s guidance for so long, but it
perfectly satisfied the person it was in
tended for, and much loftier epistles havo
often failed in that respect.
“Mrs. Stewart, that unfortunate leg
acy was something to my advantage,
after all,” Mrs. John Grant said some
months later: “I don’t know what Mrs.
Elizabeth Drake did with it, but I do
know I would not change with her. The
missing it has brought me far more hap
piness than the getting it ever could.”
Mark Twain’s Courtship.
Mark Twain has been the subject of
many good stories in his day, and the
appended one from the Indianapolis
Journal , about a trying moment in his
courtship, is worth reproducing:
As every one knows, Mr. Clemens
.first met his beautiful wife whilo on the
famous voyage of tho Quaker City, and
he pursued his acquaintance after their
return so closely that at last the young
lady’s papa one day called the ardent
and devoted ifark into his private study
and said, after some preamble: “Mr.
Clemens, I have something to say to
you which bears upon a subject of gravo
importance, at least to me and mine.
You have been coming here for some
time, and your manner leaves no doubt
in my mind as to your object, Now,
my daughter’s welfare is very dear to
me, and before I can admit yon to her
society on the footing of a suitor to her
hand, I would like to know something
more than I do about you and your an
tecedents, etc. Stop a minute! You
must remember that a man may be “a
good fellow, and a pleasant companion
on a voyage and all that, but when it is
a question as grave os this a wise father
tries to take every precaution before al
lowing his daughter’s affections to be
come engaged, and I ask of you, as a
gentleman, that you shall give me the
names ot some of yonr friends in Cali
fornia to whom I may write and make
such inquiries as I deem necessary, that
is, if you still desire our friendship.” It
was now Mark Twain’s turn. “Sir,”
said he, bowing profoundly, as became a
young man who respects his hoped-for
father-in-law, “your sentiments are in
every way correct. I approve of them
myself, and hasten to add that you have
not been mistaken in my sentiments to
ward your daughter, whom I may tell
you candidly seems to me to be the most
perfect of her sex, and I honor jour
solicitation for her welfare. I am not
only perfectly willing to give you refer
ences, but am only too glad to havo an
opportunity to do so, which my natural
modesty would have prevented me from
offering. Therefore permit me to give
you the names of a few of my friends. I
will write them down. 1 irst is Lieu
tenant-General John McC'orab, Alexander
Badlam, General I andcr and Colonel
W. 11. L. Barnes. They will all lie for
me just as I would for them under like
circumstances.” This conclusion broke
the old man all up, and he never asked
more reference nor wrote to those gentle
men.
A Burning to the Crown.
Au old farmer said to our Livermore
Fulla correspondent: “There's no trouble
with crown if you only handle them
right. Well, !r, I've got three acre* and
ahalfaa good corn as there is around
hern. and they haven't touched it. I'll
tell troll how I do it. A noon nsibecrowt
I nit in an apiiearaucc I i.hoot u. many at
can. and t'ie;i when my corn ecu up I
hang their dead ImmLc* around ilia Held,
and they don't toueh it No, air, if the
erowa we aine of th"ir d* id i ooi|ianiou
and haven't tasted of the i urn, they
never will,/r,r isto# (Aft.) Jvurtvtt,
BUDGET 0E FUN.
HUMOROUS f-KETCHES FROM
VARIOUS SOURCES.
A Truly Wonderful Man—A Harbor's
Fright lb I Example—Oder ni in
ing to Sell —Wanted Insur
ance—Too Old, Etc., Etc.
Featherly—“l don't think much of
your friend Robinson, Dumley.”
Dumley—“Wlrat’s tho matter with
him?”
Feather!cy —“l read him an original
poem last night of twenty-four verses,
and lie walked off without saying a
word.”
Dumley—“He is certainly a wonderful
man.”
Fcatherlcy—“How wonderful?"
Dumley—“ln being able to walk off.
If he were not a wonderful man he would
have been carried off.”— Harper's Bazar.
A Harbor's Frightful Example.
“Will you take a bottle of hair re
storer ? ” asked a barber of a customer.
“Not now, thank you,” the latter re
plied. “By the way, may I ask you why
you don’t use the hair restorer your
self ? Your locks are rather thin.”
As tho barber had scarcely a hair on
his head, the phrase “ rather thin ”
sounded liko sarcasm.
“The boss doesn’t allow it,” explained
the barber.
“Why not? I’d thiuk it would be a
recommendation. ”
“No; he selects only bald-headed men
to work for him, and hopes to sell liis
hair restorer by having them pose as
frightful examples."— Teras Siftings.
Determined to SMI.
“Strangor, I want to sell ycr a horse.”
“Stranger,” was the reply, “I don’t
want him.”
“Stranger,” rejoined tho wayfarer,
“ycr recly must buy him. Yor never sec
a better horse for the price.”
“What is tho price, stranger?” asked
the contemplative man.
“A hundred and fifty dollars'and dirt
cheap at that.”
The inquirer meditated for a few mo
ments ana then blandly remarked:
“Stranger, I’ll give ycr five.”
The equestrian dismounted, saying
with carnestnes: “Stranger, I won’t al
low one hundred and forty-five dollars to
stand between you and me and a trade.
The horso is yours.”— Siftings.
Wanted Insurance.
“Is this a fire insurance company !”bc
inquired #s-4h* hcsitwftugly entered the
office of one of the best known companies
in tho country.
“ Yes, sir. Anything wo can do for
you ?”
“Yes. I’m a travoling man, and I’ve
just got a situation. I’ve been unfortunate
in every other job I've had. Always struck
dull trade you know and got fired. Now,
if you will insure me against fire in this
case I’ll be perfectly willing to pay what
ever is reasonable for a policy.”
But the company wasn’t filling that
kind of a long felt want. —Merchant Trav
eler.
Too Old.
“Say! lemme use your telephone a
minit!” he exclaimed, as ho rushed into
an office on Griswold street.
“Certainly."
“Hello! hello! Givo mo 0,205. Is that
you, darling?”
(“Yes.”)
“Say, pet, I left my wallet on the
dresser with $250 iu it. Did you find it?”
(“Yes.”)
“Good! ’Fraid I’d lost it on the street.
Big load off my mind. Shall I bring up
those shoes?”
(“Yes.”)
“I’m dead broke, you know, but per
haps I can borrow $5 until after dinner,
so as not to disappoint you. Good-by,
darling.”
(“Good-by, sweetness.”)
“Say,” he said to the man at the desk,
“perhaps you overheard what I said, and
t will lend mo the five.”
The occupant pointed over his shoulder
to the door.
“What? Skip?”
“Yes.”
“Too’old?"
“Yes.”
“Been caught before?”
“Yes.”
“Iskip! Good-by !”—Detroit Free Press.
The Court Adjourned.
A witness was being examined before
a Dakota justice of the peace, and in the
course of his testimony mentioned hav
ing said to the prisoner at one time that
he had a horse he wanted to trade.
“Hey?” said the prosecuting attorney,
who was conducting the examination;
“was it that sor’l one of yours?”
“Yes.”
“Want to trade yet?”
“Don’t care if I do—what you got?”
“He hasn’t anything that you want,”
putin the attorney for the defense; “if
you want to trade I can give you a
mighty good show with my bay marc.”
“Order in the court room!” roared the
justice, waking up at this point. “What
was the last testimony you gave?”
“I said I once met the prisoner and
said to him: ‘Bill, I’d like to trade you
that sor’l mare o’ mine ’ ”
“Hold on a minute,” said the justice,
“you don’t want to trade your sor’l yet,
I s’posc?”
) “I might if I got a good chance.”
“Say,” continued the court, “if you
mean business I can give you jest the
slickest swap for that buckskin boss of
mine, an’ ’bout $lO to boot, that you
•ver seen! This court is adjourned for
one hour—come out to the barn and look
my boss over.— Dab>ta Bell.
Ho Hated a Thief.
Late one afternoon while on the edge
of the Block Hills country, near HufTulo
(lap,we got into conversation with a set
tler and mentioned tliat wo were going
to camp for the night down the road
about a quarter of a mile, among tome
tree*.
“Of course you'll do a* you please,
gcn'l'men," said the native, “hut I’ll ail
vise you nottcr camp there. ”
“Why not f"
“D'ye see that cabin down 'liout fifty
yards from the timber you're siieakiu'
Off"
“Ves."
4 “Well, sir, the biggest thief in the
Hills lives there. If you camp there
he’ll be sure to steal som’thin' from you
’fore morn in’.”
“Is that so?” •
“Y'oti bet! There's my barn back
there where I store my oats. For tho
last two year that feller hasn’t fed his
tenm a single mouthful of his own boss
feed—been stentin' out o’ mine all the
time."
“Should think yon wiSuld do some
thing about it.”
“Me? Well, y-a-c-s, you might think
I would, but you sec the fack is durin’
all this time I’ve been fcedin’ my team
out o’ liis oats—been goin’ down nights
after lie’s nbed an’ backin’’em up. My
team is a little heftier eaters than liis’n
so I don’t complain much'. But Ido
hate a thief—l jes’ dispute ’gm. Unhook
right here in front o’ my house if you
want to—this is good campin’ ground."
—Dakota Bell.
Land Hunting In Arkansas.
A man stopped near Patterson’s Bayou
and thus addressed on old fellow who
stood with his arms resting on a fence:
“Do you live here?” he asked.
“Don’t see me dying here, do you!"
“Ah, you are sportive. I havo heard
of this neighborhood, and havo tho
names of several people. Where is J.
B. Muckle?”
“Dead.”
“Ah?”
“Ah, hah.”
“What was the matter with him?”
“Sick.”
“What sort of sickness?”
“Swamp fever.”
“Let me sec,” consulting a scrap of
paper, “where is Tom W. Buck?”
“Dead.”
“What did ho die of ?”
“Swamp fever.”
“Humph. Where can I find Sim
B!y?”
“In the graveyard.”
“Swamp fever?”
“Yes."
“Do you know anything about Calvin
Hunter?”
“Yes, laid him out.
“What was the matter with him?”
“Swnmp fever.”
“My friend, I have come into this
neighborhood to buy land.”
The native, smiling a welcome, re
plied: “We’ve got the finest country on
earth, podner, right here. I’ve got 200
acres that I’ll let you have.”.
“How does it lie?”
“Fust rate."
“How’s the water?”
“Best in tho world.”
“Land rich?”
“Croam couldn’t hold a lightning bug
to it.” I ] B pg^ljiriirtiCJul
way of health?”
“Sweet ns a pro—finest you ever saw.”
“No chills?”
“Not one." f
“Fever of nny kind!”
“Not u fever.”
“Whatabout those fellows that died?"
“Hnh—oh, them fellers. AVhy, you
see, they—they—w’y, they oughterdiod.”
“Tliiit’s all right, but I don’t believe I
want nny land ’round here.”
“You don't! W’y, douce tuko your
ugly hide, w’y didn’t you tell me nt fust
that you thought o' buyin’ land nn’ I
wouldn’t n-saiil nothin’ about them fel
lers dyin’. Blast your hide! Y'ou go
around the country tnkin’ advantage o’
fellers this way. You don’t know now
to treat a gentleman. Move on, now, or
I’ll hurt you. Como cheatin’ me out of
a sale. Move on, I tell you.” —Askansat
Traveler.
The Life of a Grasshopper.
As every one knows, it is a rule of
nature every winged insect shall die
within tho year (the occasional indivi
duals that survive the twelve months
only proving the rule), for the stage of
wings is the last third of the creature's
life. After all, it would be very absurd
if wo did not recognize among ourselves
the stages of childhood, youth, middle
age and old age, which together cover
the span of our “threescore years and
ten.” An insect’s stages proceed in a
far smaller Cbmpass, and tho winged one
is the last. It is really tho old age of
the caterpillar or grub.
Thus a grasshopper may be for two or
three years a grub, for another sir
months a hobbledehoy—that is, a wing
less thing, half grub, half grasshopper—
and then for a further space a winged
grasshopper. In the last stage it mar
ries, and there is an end of its purpose.
Nature has no further need for it and
docs not care whether it dies dr not.
The slender fragility of the insect’s ap
pearance may have suggested a feeble
hold of life; some grasshoppers look like
the mere specters of insects. About
others, too, there is a vegetable, perisha
ble look, as of thin grass-blades that a
frost would kill or heat shrivel up; a sus
picion about their sere and faded edges
that they are already beginning to
wither. But the grasshopper has nothing
to complain of us to its length of life. It
sings the summer in and the autumn out,
and goes to sleep with the year.—Gentle
man's Magazine.
A Booth American Sea Dock. "
In a Barclay street store is a splendid
specimen of the South American loon,
stuffed by tho same artist of Rochester
who has preserved Jumbo for posterity.
It is nothing but an enormous sea duck,
with a four-inch bill, sharp os a needle
and keen us a blade. The other day a
sailor dropped in and paused admiringly
before the bird.
“ Where did lie come from, shipmntc ? ”
“Off the coast of Brazil,” the proprie
tor replied.
“Well,” said the old salt, “I was
askin’ because I’ve bet rations us I’m the
only man as ever had one o’ them pesky
things in my hand alive. They’re smarter
'n a fox, and devilish hard to shoot. Wo
was a sailin’ the Gulf o’ Mexico in tho Vic
tor ’bout ton year ago, when one of them
critters came alongside and cast anchor
on tho bowsprit, I was younger then a*
lam now, and says I : ‘ Bird, ahoy ! Rein
mu if I don’t run down that thing.’ It
wnsucarly dark, and I feels my way cau
tious- like along I he bowsprit and grabbed
him sudden by thu neck afore he k no wed
what wna up. I’m a tollin’ you it was a
job a gel tin’ that fellow on deck, lie
cut my coat like a razor. We bound him
to the duck with a three cord rope. He
took a loaf of bread we tossed him, and
halved it with his Idll like a knife. Ue
foie daylight he’d worked his way
through that rone and was gone, illruwl
if | don’t believe them birds can Idle
through a lamp post."—Ala York Hsh,
•LOU Per inu, In A4tmm.
NO. 33.
HARVEST.
L
Tho purple irino skins cluster upon tho droop
ing vine.
The sun fod peach leans low upon tho gar
den wall.
With their burden gold and ruddy the apple
boughs incline.
The pear and plum bend down to the eager
reach of all.
a.
The polished nuts are drooping from sheaths
of bursting burrs,
The golden gorse is weaving a field of cloth
of gold,
The airs are heavy laden with the balsam of
the firs,
The aster’s royal splendor is a marvel on
the mold.
in.
A tender flush of Summer lingers still on hill
and plain,
And on the fields close stacked end on the
woods aglow;
There’s a sound of harvest singing, and a
sound of falling grain,
And a sound of flashing sickles as the map
el's come and go.
IV.
The sadness of perfection lies in these sweet
late days,
With cool crisp morns and eves and noons
of mellow fire;
As on the full bloom rose that forecasts Its
own decay,
Too fair and faultless to leave room for
hope or for desire.
—Jennie Waxwell Paine.
PITII AND POINT.
Bills are usually presented in duo
time.
The crow is a sensible bird for he sel
dom opens his mouth without caws. —
Waterloo Observer.
I never was on the dull, tamo shore, ,
But I loved the great sea more and ipore;
And ne’er on the steamer's deck I stand,
Bat that I’d give my boots for land.— Life.
Advice to young ladies who arc setting
their caps: Use percussion caps so that
tho “pop” may be heard.— New Ilaven
News.
Tho reason that dogs are seldom
drowned is because they always have
their bark with them.— Duluth Para
grapher.
What is ancestry after all? Tho rich
man as well as the poor one begins Ufa
without a shirt to his back.— Charleston
Advertiser.
A policeman declares that ho has to
handle about as many pieces of male
matter as they do at tho postoffice.— New
York News.
Some think it adds to a woman’s beau
ty to bang her hair, but others think a
wbman is ugly who bangs her heir.— St.
Paul Herald. .
What Is that sound, so doop and strong,
That seems the skies to burst!
What great o vent so moves the throng!—
McGinnis is out at first.
Washington Critic.
Thoro is no need of your taking your
daughter to Europe in order that she may
marry a title. For $3,000 a man can bo
ennobled in Hawaii.— Minneapolis Tri
bune.
The number of photographers in tho
United States has incressed to eleven
thousand, but you can try them all und
not get a picture to do you full justice.
—Detroit Free Press.
“How did you break that lamp?”
roared Mr. Testy. “Just lighted it, and
that broke it," said his wife; “darkness
falls, you know, but light breaks.” “It’s
a wonder your head doesn’t break, then,”
Mr. Testy was going to say, but unfortu
nately, ho didn’t think of it.— Burdette.
A FELT WANT.
The social young fellow,
Whose years are a score,
Who hath at the mountains,
Or on the sea-shore,
With sad prodigality
Squandered his store,
Now taketh no comfort in
Pleasuring that
Hath gone down the past
With its blisses ei-stat-
Ic; but bitten, sayeth
In language quite pat,
“It would nil a felt want,
If I had a fall hat!”
—Tid-Bits.
Ye Storle or Ye Doggie,
Once in ye very olden tyme n Merj
chantt sayd too an Eddy tor, “I doau
thynke advertizing payes.”
“Let me show yov,’’ said yc Eddytor,
“I pvtt 1 lyne in my l'apyr and not
charge yov a penrie.”
“A 11 right,” replied the Merchantt,
“and we will see.”
So ye Eddytor pvtte yc lyne in his
papyr:
WANTED A DOGGE. John Jones, 359
Olde st.
Now yt happened that 400 Peple eache
brovghte a Dogge on ye next dayc there
after,' so that Mister Jones (whych was
ye Mcrchantt’s nayme) was overrunno
with Dogge’s.
“Synce there are so manye Dogges,”
sayd he, “I thynke I myght make some
bysiness and will give you a pennio for
eache Dogge.”
Ye people tooke ye pennic each for
his Dogge bccavse there were so manye
Dogges, and Mister Jones skynned ye
400 Dogges and made bootes and glovft
from ye 400 hydes and thvs mayd
A Byo Fortvne,
and thereafter added to yt by advertiz
ing in ye Eddytor’s papyr. —American
Orocer.
4 Transformation Scone.
They are very business-like in Europo
and very exact in their methods. My
friend was in Vienna. He had taken
from here a letter of credit on one of the
liest known banks, and he wanted to
draw on it. So ho sought the agency of
tho bank in Vieuua. lie walked into an
office which had a big barricade in front
of a long desk and two small hole* cut
for the convenience of customers. Ho
walked up to tlio Hut of them. A man
came up. He handed the letter of
credit to him. The man looked at it,
and said very gruffly; “Next window,”
My friend went to the next window, a
man cauie up, took hi* letter of credit,
looked at it, smiled pleasautly, and said;
"That's all right, How umth da* you
wish to draw, sirt” It was tb mum
mail. — Hum AVuacune OkrwtiU !*,
(loud inauarrs and good morals sra
•worn friends and firm allies. —HoMd,