Newspaper Page Text
DRAMATIC NOTES.
When Bernhardt leaves Paris, women
of decided embonpoint are to be fashion
aide there.
Jhua Rive Kino is to have a first-class
concert company out on a tour through
the next amusement season.
Christine Nilsson, in her correspond
ence with a personal friend, states that
she will not come to America during the
season.
Performances of Tristan und Isolde
and Die Mristefsinger of Nuremberg
rank among the coming events at the
ltoyal Vienna Opera-house.
Joseph Jefferson, actor, artist and
agriculturist, during his vacation among
the Vermont pastures ’■ is selected a flue
herd of short-horn eaten for his Louisiana
farm.
An uncontradicted rumor has it that
Alice Oates Watkins is to forsake comio
opera next season, and be the bright,
particular star of melange called Long
Branch.
The death of the ouee-fnnnms tenor
Ivanoff, the eontemparary of Rubini, is
announced. His career on the lyric stage
was brief, but very successful, both iu
Italy and England.
Mr. Charles Cogiilan has com
menced a country tour of England with
a version by himself of flic play of La
Mortc Vi rite, iu which Signor Salvini
has occasionally appeared.
Madame Patti will npjiear noxt winter
in Paris at the theatre des Nations.
Messrs. Polloui and Franehi will lie tho
impressariiof the Italian season. It is said
that Semiramide and Mifistgfrlr will bo
mounted especially for Madame Patti.
Mu. Lons Maas, who lias been en
gaged by Mr. Theodore Thomas as solo
pianist for a tour of the United States,
resigns his position as Professor in the
King's Conservatory, Loipsig, on the Ist
of October. Mr. Maas is an English
man.
Mary Anperson was born in Sacra
mento, California, during July, 1859.
Her father’s brother, a resident of
Louisiana, vouches for the truth of it;
so does her mother. The latter ought
to know, and tho other says ho does.
Yet paragraphers hint and doubt.
The dramatic and musical obituary
for the year 1880, thus far, includes the
names of Mrs. Mary Chapman, Felicita
Yestvali, Henry Wioniawski, George
Honey, J. 13. Onmhundro, J. R. Planelie,
John Brougham, T. L. Donnelly, E. H.
Majilton, Ole Bull, Tom Taylor, and
Adelaide Neilsou.
The first man who ever sang a negro
song which made a was George
Washington Dixon. The song was called
“The Coal Black Rose.” This was in
1828, at New' York. After making thou
sands of dollars and a great reputation,
he died in the Charity Hospital at New
Orleans, in 1861.
Among printers who became eminent
in the dramatic profession, arc the names
of George Jordan, James E. Murdock,
George Clark (whose real name is
O’Neill), Miron W. Lcfiingwell, Wm. E.
Burton, Tom Placide, Sol. Smith,
“Ai'temus Ward" (whose real name was
Charles Brown), and Augustin Daly, the
manager.
Thu theatrical season this fall and win
ter promises to be unusually attractive.
Three brilliant luminaries, at least, from
the other side of the water will shine
resplendent upon the American stage—
Halvini, Bernhardt and Gerster. It is
possible that Nilsson also may come, but
this is not yet definitely settled Owing
to the remarkable success of the operatic
and variety combination!, lust season ihe
musical feature will predominate, and
the prospects of fine Italian opera, under
the able management of Maple -on and
the Htrakosches, seems to be unusually
bright.
Mr. Sothern, in all lmmar. probabil
ity, will nevei play again. He has been
a broken-down man for the pasr.twu years.
He is not an old man in years, but he is
lamentably old in reality. “It is the pace
that kills," and the comedian has always
pushed himself from “ eend to eend, as
the late Mr. Hiupei was reported to
have said. With him will die Lord Dun
drearg, aud also a certain style of easy,
nonchalant acting grotesque, quaint,
and effective as it was original The wink
of Sothern was equal tc a volume of Joe
Milter. It was sly, knowing, confiden
tial. Each man in ’-he audience took it to
himself and became at once am intimate
friend of the actor. Of his private char
acter there is nothing to be said; chat is
his own care. It is as an actor alone that
the world at laige has a right to look
upon him--a fictitious being who won it
to laughter by discovering anew and be
fore unheard-of ticklish spot. He who
creates innocent laughter is a public
benefactor, and to my mind more worthy
of a sculptured monument than ho who
under tho impudent disguise of a mili
tary uniform shoots down his fellow-men
and complacently looks around for ap
plause.—Louisville Courier-Journal.
How to Hoil ami Stew.
To do either properly the food must
he immersed at the beginning in actu
ally boiling water, and the water must
be allowed to reach the boiling point
again immediately, and to boil for live
minutes. The action of the boiling water
upon the surface of either meat or veget
ables is to harden it slightly, but enough
to prevent the escape of cither juice or
mineral salts. After the pot containing
the food has begun to boil the second
time, it should be removed to the side of
the fire and allowed to simmer until it is
done. This simmering or stewing ex
tracts all the nutritious qualities of
either meat or vegetables. The pot
should be kept closely covered unless for
a moment when it is necessary to removo
the scum. The steam will condense
upon the inside of the cover, and fall
back into the pot in drops of moisture,
if the boiling is slow. Do not think
that rapid boiling cooks faster tliap the
gentle process I recommend. After the
pot once i toils you cannot make its con
tents cook any faster if you have fire
enough under it to run a steam engine.
Remember if you boil meat hard and
fast it will lte tough and tasteless, and
most of its goodness will go up thechim
nev or out of the window with the steam.
How a Water Moccasin Fishes.
A correspondent, writing from Plano,
Texas describes as follows the manner
; n which a moccasin used his body as a
„ort of sieve in catching small fish. Pis
snakeship was in a shallow jkjol abound
ing in minnows, and was briskly twist
ing and turning in all directions, giving
his body as many convolutions as possi
ble to inclose the fish or force them into
narrow spaces between him and the
hank. In either case the fish would en
deavor to escape by 1 calling over the
snake's body into the water beyond.
Meantime the moccasin, with elevated
head, caught the fish in his mouth as
they passed through,the air.—A lcieMifio
American.
“It pays in the end,” said the small
boy when he stepped on a wasp,
Hamilton Journal.
LAMAR & DENNIS, Publishers.
VOL. VIIL-NO. 42.
A M Till I*ll MBOUI.It.
BY IIATTir. F. CREBRY,
Wlmionn bomoro reviving,
On o miltry August tiny,
Th: n ii quiet littlo *hoMer,
And tho Mcont of new-mown hay?
Dow the laborer'* *ptrit* brighten,
Ami he whets hln iovthe anew,
Tolling with ren'-iatea vigor,
When tho blamed showor Is through.
Forth goes the whistling boy
To turn the dripping swath;
No jeu’ of further ehowern—
Th* Bind i from the north.
The water stand* in pool*
Along the muddy street.
The seiioolboj wodoa it through,
With bare and tawny feet.
The trout are clearly seen
In the limpid meadow brook,
Anl the cunning angler's bait
Uioin to hi* hook.
The flower* look up and smile,
And the field* of waving grain
Look fitter for the barveat
After the glorious rain.
The birds trill little snatches
From their song* of early June;
Tho lee* swarm round the clover,
Buzzing a drowsy tune.
But the crickets, those foretellers
Of the *iiminer’s coming doom,
Set up their doleful music
In a corner of the room.
One listen* just a moment,
And feel* a twinge of pain,
Then dispels hi* saddened feelings,
Thinking of the summer rain.
ONE TEAR OF A GIRL’S LIFE.
“Let’s leave this room just as it is,
mamma. See, isn’t it quaint? Jean
nie, do look at this head of Beatriee and
jhe frame—how elegant! This certainly
must have been some girl’s room.”
Ethel Adams went prying curiously
about the room as she spoke. It was a
most unique and strange apartment,
which seemed to have been hidden away
from view for years, perhaps. Many
things had been removed, but the win
dow-hangings were still left—a massive
walnut chair, a stool of embossed velvet,
and many trinkets that make a room
cozy and homelike as well as elegant.
At one side was a mantel of stained mar
ble, and above this hung that wonder
ful picture of which Ethel had spoken.
The sad, mournful oyes seemed to plead
for the absent owner of that room and to
beg for the old silence and oblivion.
“ Jeannie, I forgot to show you what
I found, yesterday night, in this room,
in the bottom of that bronze vase. I
happened to tip the vase over, and this
fell out. Edwin Dale was here at the
time. See, it is set in garnets; isn’t it a
lovely face ? I can’t make out the en
graving, only the last name, ‘ Kent,’
and two letters, ‘ s-e.’ ”
“A proud face, truly, and not one of
a peasant's daughter,” said Mrs. Adams,
who was assisting the gilds in deciding
which rooms should be furnished for the
summer.
The three bent their heads together
scrutinizing the small, olive face in its
setting of gems.
“Kent, Kent, did you say, my dear?
It seems I remember something about
that name. We’ll ask your father about
it to-night.”
“Oh, girls, is mamma up there?”
called a voice from the foot of the stairs.
“ Yes ; come and seo what I found.”
“I want you all out on the west ve
randa. I’ve something to show you.
Bring along your discovery, and we’ll set
up a curiosity shop,” replied the voice
below’.
The group settled themselves in rus
tic chairs or reclined in swinging ham
mocks. The venerable and dignified
Horatio Adams came down from his
dusty office and joined the family, push
ing his golden spectacles to the top of
his forehead, and passing his fingers
through the obstinate-curling white hair.
“ Just see, papa and Owen, what I
found !” And all the group bent to
gether over the face that looked out at
them so saucily, so defiantly, as though
half angry at being inspected. “ ‘ Kent’
is engraved on the back, and two other
letters—part of a name, I think—‘es.’
See, there it is.”
“ I declare,” said Horatio, drawing
his chair closer to the rest of the party.
“ Can it be possible ? Why, w ife, you re
member the Kents, don’t you ? This old
mansion has been known as Castle Kent
for a century, at least. It still belongs
to some unknown heir—a Miss —,
Miss—, let me sec,” running his fingers
through and through iiis hair, grasping
handfuls, as though the half-forgotten
knowledge might be lurking among the
thick clusters. “ Miss Agnes Louise
Kent—that’s the name—only heir of Sir
Gregory and Isabella Kent. I read an
account of it not half a dozen days ago.
The property amounts to something near
three millions oi money. A valuable
estate, indeed—a moneyed estate, finite
a fortune—aye, in fact, a princely fort
une.”
Owen Adams gave a long, incredulous,
though appreciative, whistle, at which
the twogirls exchanged knowing glances.
“What have you there, Owen?” ques
tioned Ethel, the inquisitive.
“I hardly know myself. It’s strange
I should have forgotten it for so long,”
replied Owen Adams, the polished and
elegant, fresh from the society of the
elite of Paris and the continent. A pure
ly English face, with its added charm of
true refinement. He unlocked an ebony
writing-desk, and took from it a small,
handsomely-bound book. It was slight
ly discolored os though at some time it
liad been wet in some way. The back
was of ivory, inlaid with pansies of
mother-of-pearl. The lids were clasped
with a single flower, mounted in gold.
The whole was charmingly unique and
beautiful. They all examined it closely
while Owen told its history.
Passing through a street in Paris in
fected with an epidemic, he espied this
book lying under the projecting slab of
a stone step. He picked it up, but, not
daring to enter the house or even to
knock, he hastily slipped it into his
pocket, thinking he’d advertise it the
next morning. On reaching his hotel,
he found the telegram calling him home
and, as the time was short, he threw
this into his writing-desk and had never
once remembered it until tliis after
noon.
“ I think it must have fallen from a
window, or else been dropped, in carry
ing out other goods ; for, see, a part of
this spray has been broken,” said Owen.
£thel, "no longer able to restrain her
curiosity, took the book into her hands
and unebuqx’d it.
“ It’s a girl’s diary, as sure as I live !”
she exclaimed, throwing up her hand,
and pointing tho front finger at the
others—a fashion she had when deeply
interested or excited—all the while run
ning her eyes rapidly over the page.
“Read it alou, Eth,” spoke Jean,
raising herself from her lazy position in
the hammock. It took a great deal to
excite her, for she was of that sluggish,
luxurious temperament that little heeded
mere passing excitements.
“Just listen,” and Edith reads from
the hook :
Knoi.and, Tiiuhsdav, Oct. fi. IS—.—As this
is my last year at school, I shall keep a diary
of aav important events that may happen to
mo. I don't know what to sav, as nothing lias
happened lines my last visit (o Loudon. I
don't believe I shall like Ilka new bnsinoas very
much. But. aa Couain Kob says, “The prac
ticed man maketh the perfect man." 1 wiah 1
were a man ; no, I don’t either, for men are
pen* rally mean, and selfish, and cruel. I only
know two moil I really like—one is Cousin Bob,
and the other I’rof. Huntington. I deapise the
rest
“ He, Monsieur Owen I ” interrupted
Jean.
If folka should lead tlna hook of mine they’d
think it funnv 1 didn't include that individual
calling himself pater famiiiaa iu my liat of ad
mired masculines, but I chuia him with all tho
abominable lot—and why? Louiae Kent know
eth why.
“ Heavens ! Eth, is that name there,
or are you fooling us ?” asked Owen,
coming up, and looking excitedly over
her shoulder. All the group gathered
round the girl to satisfy themselvos that
the reader had not played a joke on
them. But Ethel’s face told plainly
that the revelation was as shocking to
herself as to the others. Her excitable
nature displayed itself in the short,
tremulous breath and flushed cheek, as
she pronounced tho name, “Louise
Kent.”
“ Marvelous coincidence,” ejaculated
the family sire.
“I fear it is some omen of evil,”
responded the slightly superstitious
wife, who had learned from her Scottish
g randoms the fostered stories of witch
and fairy.
“I remembor now,” continued Ho
ratio Adams, “hearing once that there
was some mysterv in the family. Sir
Gregory was killed almost instantly
while on some wild expedition. He
kept blooded horses and raced a great
deal, I think,”
‘ Read on, Ethel,” spoke up the in
terested Jean; “ see if she’s the girl.”
Ethel reads :
I guess 1 11 tear this leaf out anil begin again,
for mother might find it and then slic'd cry,
poor darling, and I’d feel awful. Mother is
such a lady. Why did she marry that fox t
I’m in a dark mood to-night, so I’ll hide you
away, little diary, and wait until some blighter
day.
Sunday, Nov. G.—lt is another dark, damp
dav. I liate gloomy days. Thiß old house,
wnn its lorestof trees everywhere, making such
mournful sounds, seems ’kike a prison. I’m
sorry I wounded l’rof. Hiintington’s feelings
to-day. I’m always stuinhlli'ig into somebody’s
tender feelingH. I guess I am s serious mis
take, as he whom I so hate has so often told mo.
I eau see his steely eyes before me continua'ly.
Sometimes I wish he would never come home
again.
I w ish to goodness I could bo like other girls
or like my mother. I don't want to be a lamb,
nor n bird, but I do hate to be a porcupine, so
full of hatefulness I don’t dare to lie touched.
I believe I’ll write me out some resolutions aud
try to live to them :
Whereas, I, Louise Kent, or, rather, Agnes
Louise Kent—
“ The same girl, as I live I ” ex
claimed Owen.
“The very same; heir, sole heir, to
$3,000,000 of money, a most magnificent
estate,” chimed in the father.
“I wonder if she’s alive yet,” said
Jean.
“I feel awfully guilty at reading this
book. It just seems I’m doing some
mean, sneaking thing. Here, you read
awhile, Owen,” said the conscientious
Ethel, laying the hook on her brother’s
arm, and throwing herself hack, ns if
half exhausted.
. “We hail best find out, if possible, if
this is the true heir. Such an estate, so
valuable and so extensive, ought not to
get into anyone’s hands on a mere pre
tense,” remarked Horatio.
Owen reads :
Whereas, I, Limine Kent, or, rather, Agnes
Louise Kent, am given to always doing thono
tilings I do most earnestly desire not to do, and
ever leaving undone those things I desire most
to do, and as I wish to correct—”
“ Here a blank has been left for two
or three pages,” said Owen, turning tho
leaves to another date.
Scsnxv, Jan. B.—How tho time has flown
since 1 last, wrote ! All, mo ! it scorns like ton
years. Something dreadful has happened in
our family. It makes my Good run cold to
t hink of it. now. But I believe I have no human
heart when I think of him. How he has cursed
us all. But when they carried him in. all
mangled and bleeding, with his wild eyes star
ing at us with such a glassy stare, I did pity him.
Yes, 1 almost forgave him. And to see
mother, poor, dear, broken-hearted mother, af
ter all he has done for her ; after nil the deso
lation he brought to her, to see her take his
face in her hands and bend over him, whisper
ing “my husband ' as tenderly as though that
same face, with its leers and tounts, had not
crushed -all the glad, joyous life out of her.
Oh, it was all so dreadful! I wonder if Ood
forgave him at the last. I'm glad I’m not Ood
to judge men. I couldn’t cry; even when I
stood and looked into that cold, still face I
Could only say to mvself that those close, white
lips were never again to utter words that would
sting me almost to madness. I could not shod
a tear, even when 1 saw them bury him away
forever. I felt only a deep sense of freedom.
But my poor, dear mother ; I must support her
tenderly with all the strength I possess.
Fkiday, I'eh. 5. I have given up my sehool
and shall do all I can for mother, she is droop,
ing and failing every day. I must do some
thing to brighten her life. She is my all! How
X love her! All the love and devotion I might
have given two are centered in my mother. I
am changing. I can see jt m myself. The
careless, defiant Louise Kent is now a sober, al
most a somber, woman. How circumstances
change us. To-day I was 20. Twenty: 1 can
not realize it. Just one year qgo to-night
brother Mark and I rowed up the lake to see
the old town by moonlight. How distinctly I
remember the lonesome screech of the owl, and
how cold and spectral he looked, outlined
against the sky. As we dipped our oars silent
ly along under a willow, a nightingale, startled
by our gliding boat, sang out a long, wild, wail
ing song, as if his heart were breaking. I re
member Mark sat so quietly as we came
along, and I noticed as the moonlight fell across
his face there was on it an unspeakable look of
pain and sadness. As he lifted me from the
boat, he bent so tenderly a rid kissed my hand,
saving : “ Your birthday kiss, Iyjuie ; recall this
boat-ride, and the owl, the tower and the night
ingale when this day returns again. I shall be
far away, hut I shall remember you.” Ob,
my darling brother 1 come back to vonr lone
some sister. Little did you dream that a* far
as earth is from heaven would you be separates]
from me tee-night.
Here Owen coughed and curled his
mustache; Jean had turned her face
away; impulsive Ethel was sobbing,
with her hands and i&ce buried in her
“DUM SPIRO, SPERO.”
HAMILTON, GA , OCTOBER 14, 1880.
mother’s lap ; Mrs. Adiuns sighed sym
pathetically, and toyed caressingly with
Ethel’s lirown curls: Horatio Adams
leaned buck in his chair, rubbing the
eyes of his glasses most vigorously.
After a moment of silence, in which no
one spoke because the feeling was
mutual. Owen read on :
Tho noble boy! Why was it all his bright
dreams and ours must lie broken in one short
year ? Why must lie lie like & ■battered shaft
lhat was so beautiful, so fair, so shining?
With his proud intellect that had Hashed out
before the world like a spotless saber. Some
times when I think of the dear boy’s death, and
of all his hard fato and mine, I grow hitter
against God, and man, and nature, and every
thing. In my insanity I clench my hands and
shake them in the very face of heaven
Can I be forgiven ?
Crave 1 forgiveness ?
Thl'Bsdav, April I.—Mother grows frailer.
Sometimes 1 pray that sin- may ho mine yet a
little longer. She clings to mo so tenaciously,
depending on mo in all things. The estate is
settled. Everything is mother's and mine—
even this prison-house. Cousin ltob writes mo
that our a|>ailineiits in Paris are awaiting ns. I
think l shall have mother removed before the
worm day* come on. J do not know whether I
shall like Cousin ltoli’a now wife or not. Home
wav tho Spanish women were always repulsive
to me, bnt 1 have decided to receive hor as
gracefully as possible. Is it miserably selfish
in mo to wisli that Cousin ltob had never mar
ried ?
Tuesday, June 11. -We arc in Paris. I think
mother has improved. Whom should I meet
to-day Imt dear Prof. Huntington? I eanio
near making myself foolish, bnt it was so liko
meeting something infinitely dear to one. He
is so silent, so sober, so gentle, so gallant. His
faeo seomß to tell mo of some history. I wonder
what it is. I wonder if he has carried some
secret in his heart until it has turned to stone,
like mine? He is tho same lone man.
Wednesday, July 3.—Last night mother slept
but little. 1 feci she is slowly slipping from
me. She has been telling mo to-day of tho
happy days of her girlhood when her proud old
father, Lord Autly
“Autly, did you say, my son?” asked
Horatio Adams, starting from his seat
like one half wild. All the group invol
untarily started to their feet.
“Lord Autly,” repeated Owen.
“That was my grandfather’s name.
Autly, Autly—yes, that’s it, my mother’s
father. Ho had seven sons, one married
a peasant’s daughter and grandfather
disinherited him. But I have heard
that he was a shrewd fellow and boeamo
rich, enormously rich, in fact he owned
a manor. Ho must be the one. Read
on, my son, read on.”
Owen continues :
How hor father, Lord Antiy, taught her to
ride to tho cliase, anil ploy at lmea-gammsu,
his favorite game. Then she told me of her
betrothal to voting Hir Gregory Kent, tho dash
iug English heir, and of her great love for the
poor peasant, Lea Me. Hunt, for which my father
never forgßve her, neither did he fail to recall
it though she lias been to Mm ail these years a
loyal, tender, forbearing wifo, never even al
lowing this old love a place m her memory.
Hhe told it to me to-day for the first time. Then
she sank hack on her pillow and closed her
eyes, lying there so pale and silent I put my
hand on her heart to soe if it was throbbing. 1
firmly believe these years of silence, of wait
ing, of enduring, of persistently burying tho
past, have almost tahfJt the jpirit out of its frail
vessel of chvv. Pvnf. HnjifSgton came to see
ns to-day. As he left, lie mJad me to drive out
with him again to-morrow. IT mother is strong
enough to be left alone, I may go for a abort
time. I feel I must bo near her every moment.
Monday, Aug. s.— Last night we sat. together,
two friends. Kind and tender the ties that
bind us. But how widely different our lives !
Ilia 1 knew hut briefly. It was a lonely, lost
life. A bitterness and a pain had entered it, a
depth of sadness fathomed hv no human creat
ure. Yet, above it all, ho Hinilos and puts book
the hatefulness of many and soothos thoHO
about him with the winsome winning of his
spirit. Why can I not love this man who has
told me so passionately of liis long, patient
waiting for my love? ifo fulfills my highest
ideals of manliness anil manhood. Why is
thero no answering note to this pleading cry ?
Has my heart become granite that it is so icy
still; so shut away and barred from human
love? We aat alone—all alone as the darknoss
of the night settled down over Paris. It was
that time of oppressive silence after one has
been asked a question one dares not answer
with loyalty to truth. The muteness seeming
fittest, we sat in silence. Down in tho busy
street below us we watched together the pass
ing panorama. Homo hoys played hide-and
seek among tho trees and boxes: two lovers
{mssed slowly by ; an old man bent under his
mrden of years plodded home from his hard
day s work with to-morrow’s bread ; two Ml iter,
thoughtful business men met, stopped, settled
some point in daily work, wrung each other’s
hands and passed on, each to his own way ; a
carriage drove slowly up just across the way,
and a short, white coffin was brought out and
stowed away as though it already contained
the spectral form of some mother’s dead baby ;
a wood sawyer with his wife and dirty children
came out of an alley and stole noiselessly down
a narrow street,. Some guards in uniform came
tramping down the street with measured tread
at the shouts of their Captain. On, on, they
all swept, the multitude, the unthinking throng,
each with his own burden, his own seeret inner
seif a mystery still. We had noted all uncon
sciously almost. His eyes met mine. We were
asking of each other the same question. Ho
arose quickly, saying, “It grows late, I will see
yon to-morrow,” and was gone.
Hatcrdav, Hept. 12. 1 must write hut a
word. My dear mother lias teen attacked by
an epidemic fever. I greatly fear for her. I
must be strong to meet anything. Prof.
Huntington is untiring in ins attentions.
Tuesday, Oct. 0. Mother is still very low.
My head reels. My pulses throb so violently,
fam almost beside myself. II is only because
of the constant watching and tare. I’ll he bet
ter to-morrow. It is one year to-night since I
wrote first iri this little noi*'Oh life ! Prof.
Huntington has been smitten with the
fever. I cannot write more to-night. What
next shall I write, I wonder, and when, 'and
where ’?’’
Owen Adams tossed the liook into liis
mother’s lap, and passed his hand over
lus eyes, for the strain of steady reading
made them painful.
“Elegant!” Jean remarked, less lan
guidly than was her usual wont. “ That’s
as good as a novel, Eth. Let’s have it
published.”
“Jean Adams, how could you!” re
proachfully answered Ethel.
“ Husband, I think you’d best adver
tise this liook. had you not ? ”
“ Yes, yes,” answered Horatio Adams,
rising and pacing back and forth with
his hands behind him, “ Yes, I’ll attend
to that to-morrow. Too valuable an
estate to lie lost to its owner. If the
girl is dead, as may be possible, then I
think the Sutleys fall joint heirs. Yes,
yes,” half soliloquizingly. “What’s the
last date? Oct. 6? Why, let me see,
tliat’s something over three months.”
“ Owen, we must see to this matter to
morrow.”
Owen gives another prolonged whistle,
and asks Jean for the picture set in gar
nets. Supper is announced. Louise
Kent is discussed. The l>ook is adver
tised, and all wait patiently, or impa
tiently, as the case may lie, for some re
sponse.
And so, dear reader, must we. -
Sothebn has recently isuccessfully un
dergone two painful operations at the
hands of surgeons in London, and at
latest accounts was improving it. health.
WAIFS AND WHIMS.
Something to lie sneezed at snuff.
A cruel husband calls his wifo “groan
fruit,” lioi’iuiho sho never agrees with
him.
Few men are so awkward with tools
that they cannot work a corkscrew unite
handily.
It is hotter to give than to receive.
This relates especially to ailvieo and
medicine.
They say Chicago girls never thul it
hard to elojxg They make rone ladders
of their shoe-strings.
There arc some men so talkative that
nothing lmt, the toothache can make one
of them hold his jaw.
Minnie Banks, of St. Paul, kissed her
lover fil l times without stopping. Min
nesota liked it, anyhow.
“Strive to make n good impression
wherever you go,” said Jones, as 1m
pulled his foot out of the mud.
When a man anil a woman are made
one, the question “which one?” is a
Bothersome one until it is settled, ns it
soon is.
It is about, ns difficult to convince a
burglar that the owner of the house is
afraid of him, as to convince the house
holder that tho burglar is afraid of him.
Tiif, angel of midnight—the woman
who opens tho street doer for her hus
band when he is trving to unlock tho
bell-knob, and then lets him sleep on tho
hall-floor.
When a Michigan minister is iilsmt to
elope with the wife of a parishioner ho
preaches a farewell sermon and exalts tho
duty of putienco and long suffering.
This sort of pours oil ou tho troubled
waters iu advance.
Tirmin is to be a club of circus men.
There will he no chairs in the club, noth
ing but trapezes. When they dine every-
Kidy will stand on his head. There will
l>o no stairways. The members will get.
into the club bv climbing tho waterspout
and coming down through the chimneys.
A itui.ioiotm tract, called “Put Not
Your Trust in Princes,” was thrown into
the saloon of a simple old Ger
man. Ho read the title, and solilo
quized: “Veil, l don'd put some drust
in Brinees. Hey must pay der cash in
dis shop elitist der same as a vito mans.”
It is a great mistake in mothers to take
so much pains teaching their children to
speak. What a world of trouble it takes
to make some babies talk, and what a
world of trouble they make with their
everlasting talking after having onco
learned how to do it. Bouton Trans
cript.
He softly kiwi his RWiiina wife,
Then with a liugfertuK I*‘K
Of found nflprtioii MriiiKhtwny went
And kissed her pretty cook.
Alas for hAin, the nenlle wife
lie ihoiWht nshep, was not,
And for hi j cook nod hobby, 100,
bUi mww It tuighiy hot. >
Seymour Time*.
An up-towu landlord writes his own
hill of fare, thereby saving the cost of
printing. It announces: "Guffey, supo,
rente befe, fridc ham in, lioylcd and bakt
pertaters, fridc could pudden, minspyes,
mutting chops, voole culverts, hunch
mid crucified chickens.”— Kingston
Freeman.
“Good MonNiNO,” remarked two gen
tlemen as they stepped up to the bar.
"Moruin’, geutlemeu, what’ll it he?”
asked the bnr-kccpor. “Well, Pll take a
Hail-cocktail,” said tine. “Give me a
ci-Gar-fteld,” sakl the other, and then
they both laughed anil said it was a very
good joke.— Alban// Journal.
That it pays to look under the lied be
fore you retire, if you are a woman, re
ceived fresh evidence in Watertown re
cently. A young lady there took a peep
mid was rewarded with a view of a man’s
hoots. She immediately called her father,
who promptly responded with a gun and
club, and catching hold of the rascal’s
feet, brought his own hoots to light.
His daughter had worn them on sherry
expedition and had thrown them there
on getting home. Danbury News.
A Hbnvbb girl lost her foot, and her
gallant lover bad a poeketbook made of
a piece of tanned skin from the ampu
tated member. The Syracuse Standard
says: “If she had been a Utica girl she
might have hail a trunk covered- Baeh
elor Exchange. It seems to us that a
poeketbook made out of the skin of a
girl’s foot, is out of place. Why didn’t
tho young man have an icc hex or a re
frigerator car made of it? There is too
much building material actually thrown
away. Peek’s Sun.
At Petersburg, Illinois, the otherday,
a man named Win. L Stein loaded his
gun and set out to kills neighbor, against
whom ho entertained feelings of the
greatest animosity, and ten cents for
whisky screwed his courage to tho stick
ing point. But in the hurry and hustle
incident to the publication of a great
family newspaper, errors are hound to
creep in, and Mr. Stein somehow got his
gun wrong end foremost and shot him
self through the head. It seems as
though there were, more accidents this
year than ever before. Peek’s Sun.
Practicing Economy.
“ Would you mind standing here till
Igo in and get a cigar?” he asked. “Of
course not,” she replied; “but don’t
you think, Henry, that smoking is of
fensive, and that it. will lie easier prac
ticing economy after marriage if it is
practiced during courtship ?” “ You’re
right,” he said ; “ I shan’t smoke any
more, sweet,” and she looked unuttera
ble love at him as they resumed their
stroll. Just then they came to an ice
cream saloon, and he said : “ There,
now, I meant to treat you to ice-cream,
but, as you say, it is best to practice
economy during courtship. Ten cents
for u cigar, 110 cents for two ice-creams
—4O cents saved in a single night. Let’s
go over to the fountain and take a drink
of water.” They went, but she was mail
enough to bite her own head off.
John Quincy Adams on Vanity.
“ They say lam vain. Thank Ood I
am so. Vanity is the cordial drop which
makes the bitter nop of life go down. I
agree with Mrs. Elizabeth Montague,
who wrote to her uncle, the Bishop, to
inquire whether the text, ‘All is vanity
and vexation of spirit,’ was not badly
translated. She thought it ought
to be, ‘All is vanity or vexation of spirit.’
She implied that what was not vanity
was sure to be vexation, and there I am
with her, ”
J. L. DENNIS, Editor.
#I.OO ii Year.
One of Tom Ochiltree's Jokes.
The vaulting ambition and unblush
ing assurance of some of these infant
mining camps remind me of a good
story which a gentleman from Galves
ton, now uhont to engage iu mining
here, told me tho other evening nhout
Mnj. Tom Ochiltree, of Texas. 1 don’t
mean to apply it to Silver Cliff, though
I have not failed to discover traces of
the lame spirit here. Everybody
who Ims been iu Washington often since
the reconstruction of the South knows
Tom Ochiltree, and he is not a stranger
in New York. A good soldier, l believe,
on the Confederate side, he became a
Republican at tho close of the war and
a favorite of President Grant, who ap
pointed him Uuitcd States Marshal for
Texas when that office was worth u good
deal more money than it is now. The
Major’s father was one of the most,
eminent jurists in Texas, before tho w ar,
and had a good deni of trouble w ith his
son, who, though not bad, was full of
mischief.
At length, when Tom approached
young manhood, tho old Jinigo deter
mined to sober him by study, and so
took him into his own law office, where
ho kept him pretty closely at his luniks
for about three years. Tom was a good
scholar, made satisfactory progress, and
was finally admitted to the liar and
taken into partnership by his father. A
few months after this, the Judge, as ho
was starting for Dallas one morning to
attend a long session of the court, looked
up at, the old, weather-beaten sign,
which had been above bis office door lor
a quarter of a century, and told Tom ho
thought it was about time to have anew
one, “and, Tom,” he said, “suppose
you attend to it, get ft good sign, and
have tho name of the firm painted on
it.”
Tho old gentleman wont to Dallas and
was gone several days. Returning,
when lie came in sight of the little frame
otHeo, ho thought ltlookoil strange, and
riding nearer he found stretching clear
across tho building, an immense sign
hoard, on which was painted iu Inigo
lotters:
“ T. F. Oohji.treb and Father,
Counsellors aud Attorneys at Law."
Tom was at his desk deeply absorbed
in working.up a caso, and never could
understand why the old man should
havo caused that sign to be taken down.
—Colorado Letter to file# York Tribune.
A Mu sen in Gathered from a Mower.
Tho largo area drained into tho Tiber
creek sewer causes a grout quantity of
gravel and sand to accumulate in the
level sootion of thnt conduit, between
Indiana avenue and the James Creek
canal. This section requires to he
cleaned out every year, and many hun
dreds of oart-loails of sand and gravel is
removed therefrom, whion is used for
direct paving. In the office building,
within this yard, Mr. Lamer has a mu
seum of things taken from this debris, to
whioh ho has been addingfrom day today
for two or throe years. 'This is a perfect
old curiosity shop in its way. Of
eourso there are no glass cases nor gild
ed caskets for their arrangement, blit fur
tho most part they are tacked up on a
rough board partition, where they can
be looked at, no one caring to bundle
them. Among tho rusty and corroded
tilings tho Aim reporter noticed a shoe
maker’s pincers, screw bolts, gas fixt
ures, wiust-belt buckles, spools, skate
irons, andirons, hoes, casters, doll-baby
heads, metallic and mineral toys for
children, smoking-pipes, door-knobs, a
clasp and part of buckskin purse, metal
lic match-box, milk-strainer, jewsharp,
gaming-chocks, a silver thimble, oil-cans,
combs, hair-brushes, a parlor skate,
paint-brushes, gutta-jierchu nipples for
babies’ nursing-bottles, eye-glasses, glass
alleys, a screw-driver, child’s gutta-per
cha rattle, part of a month harmouieon,
pocket and table knives, tea and table
spoons, horseshoes, brass wheels of
clocks, a toy steam-engine, iron rings,
stove-castings, sets of rams’ horns, skull
hones of dogs und sheep, a looking-glass
frame, a nut-cracker, a copper kettle,
stove-grates, gimlet, German silver
watch, saw, cake-plate, scarf-pin, gun
eartridges, and a child’s skull.
On a shelf is arranged a quantity of
chuuks of iron-scraps, gravel, and sand,
all cemented together in compact
masses, formed, it is supposed, in low
places within tho sewers, where these
things settle owing to their weight, and
during heavy freshets are forced out in
large chunks and washed down to this
level. These masses appear to he com
posed mostly of iron nails and iron
scraps, among which, now and then, is a
horseshoe, a gun-lock, keys, screws, an
otei large copper cent, hair-pins, boop
skirts, scissors, etc. Washington Star.
Possessive My or Mine.
A foreigner writes to the Now York
Sun: i am studying English, and for
that reason I pay a great deal of atten
tion to the language of those with whom
I happen to converse. Now tho little
IKiKsessivo pronoun “rny” is so often
used and, id least in rny judgment,
abused, that it begins to worry me. For
example, a lady recently said to me : “ I
locked mydoor and went to iny butcher
to order my provisions. When I re
turned home I found my stove cold and
rny fire out, and that was lucky, too, for
rny kettle was nearly empty, and it would
have been ruined if my fire had been
going. I expected my husband every
minute, so 1 hurried to make my fire
again and prepare my dinner. Unfort
unately, my butcher Inid forgotten to
bring my tripe, so J gave him a piece of
my mind and sent him back for my
tripe,” and so on.
Now i am not a communist, but I
would nil her drop “rny” altogether
than to apply it equally to husband,
butcher, tripe and tea-kettle.
The Bee’s Sting.
The sting of the bee is said to be a
hollow tube. The male bee is inoffen
sive, not being provided with this
weapon or pointed tube ; therefore when
one of these inm eta alights lijsin a hare
footed Vioy the soliloquy of Hamlet im
mediately forces itself iijm.ii that boy’s
mind as lie anxiously awaits the results.
“ Tube t>ee or not tills- liee? That’ the
question.”— Yautcob Strauss.
And now a physician says that long
walks before breakfast bring on dys
pepsia.
JOTTINGS AND CLIPPING*.
Make Twain fathers three Ixioks and
five children.
Evert persog iu America writes an av
erage of twenty letters per year.
A Spanish tombstone read: “I was
well, wanted to lie lietter, took physic,
and hero I am.”
Life is full of hitter lossoiih, the simp
lest of which is that one rnsn’s fall makes
forty men laugh.
The Prince ol' Wales’ life is insured
for S2OO,(MX). His annual premium on
this sum is ,(XXI.
Hem,, of telephoneaf me, could have
taken SIO,IXIO for his iiiventiqp, but he
held on and made a million.
Queen Victoria is old-fashioned in
her speech and calls a night gown by its
right name. No embroidery for her.
Ft is estimated that more than ‘21X1,000
1 deadheads are luunmlly passed over the
railroad lines of tho United States.
he most popular woman in Germany
is said to be the Grown Princess of Prus
sia, the Queen of England’s eldest
daughter.
A San Francisco servant girl mode
SIO,(XX) in stockk and in one afternoon
purchased 003 different articles at a dol
lar store.
Chicago has had sixty brass hands
playing there at one time; hut, Ht. Louis
folks have been suffering from hog
cholera, so the cities are even.
James Gordon Bennett is 4‘2 years
old and not likely to take a wife though
at least ten New York belles havo in
turn sighed for him.
Whun n man finds a fly ill his coffee at
a Loadvillc hotel his safest wny is to write
a postal to the landlord after leaving
town. A complaint on the spot would
lead to his being shot at.
Bates College in Maine, had SIOO,-
(XX) left to it on condition that an addi
tional SIIXI,(MX) would lie raised. The
additional was not forthcoming, and now
Bates loses the original bequest.
Tiie man who lands in Leadvillo with
out money will Und a hundred people
perfectly willing to assist him. When
they get. through he will discover that he
is three miles beyond the corporation
limits.
The story that a Ht,. Louis girl step
ped on a shark at Atlantic City and
buried him two feet in tho sand origin
ated iu Chicago, where the weight of two
girls will break down a street car plat
form.
Olive Logan says that, the first duty
of a girl on finding herself uglv-looking
and ungainly is to cultivate such a sweet
temper that seme one will he certain to
marry her. Olivo forgets thot we buy
eggs on sight.
A Troy street-ear conductor refused to
stop his ear and let the pasoengnrs wit
ness u dog-fight, and where is that car
conductor to-day? No man can trample
on the rights of tho public with im
punity.
Tub Prince of Wales’ two sons are
somewhat lively While on a sea voyage,
recently, the younger was heard to ex
claim, “Como, bub, time up your fid
die and give us ’God save your old
Grandmother
Gboroh W. Guinns is going to build
a house costing #175.(t00 That is, lie is
going to get into a Mace whore he can’t
take an hour's comfort, because he can’t
put his feet upon window-sills or
mantles. i
A Boston correspondent says Joaquin
Miller looks tamer than lie used to. His
hair no longer spreads over his coat col
lar, and his costume is quieter than it
used 10 be. But he has the gloomy,
dreamy aspect of old, and he is one who
can not pass unnoticed along the busy
streets.
Tnk American colony in Paris is
smaller than at any previous time in
twenty years. It costs twice as much
now to live iu Paris ns iu America in the
same style. Formerly it cost double
Paris in America. There is nothing now
cheap in France oxcopt apparel, anil
only parts of that.
New ZbaIjAND, whose first railroad
was lmilt, twelve years ago, has now over
1,100 miles in successful operation. All
the roads are three feet six inch gauge.
They are all owned and operated by the
government, anil under tlie control of a
minister of public works, with a commis
sioner of railways for each island, who
has a general and traffic manager under
him.
When the London tailor confines him
self to his legitimate sphere, the manu
facture of ladies’ riding habits, he is un
excelled, but when he rashly wont lures to
make garments for his own sex, his in
feriority is painfully munifest. Ho takes
the best cloth iu the world and makes it
into a coat that wrinkles in the arm-pits
anil pinches tho waist. True to his in
stincts ns a dress-maker, lie saves pad
ding from the shoulders to lavish it on
the fronts of his coats.— London Letter.
Recent Points in Etiquette.
Huy “ good morning ” or “good even
ing ” to the hostess, on leaving tho
room. “Ho long, old girl” has gone
out, in the best society.
If there are seventy-five or 100 per
sons in the company, it is not necessary
for you to shako hands all round.
Ho not be in haste to get clown to din
ner without waiting for a tardy guest.
Give him at least thirty: minutes. You
may have to get down on your hands
and kuees arid crawl around and feel for
< lost collar button yourself sometime.
Upon introduction to a young lady,
immediately ask her ndtf aiul the size of
her shoes. This Will put you riff WI Nmy
conversational plane.
In society, a note requires as prompt
an answer as as; token question. And in
the bank it requires a great deal prompt
er 01.0.
Do not thank any one who waits on
you at table. Look wan and hungry as
though yon wanted more.
To tilt, back in your chair and drum
idly on your head with your fork is con
demned in good society.— Burdette.
A Lamenttthle Lit.
The woman who cannot grow old is
jealous of her own children, and keeps
aloof from them. She wakes love while
her son is making love. She beams and
lowers her voice and steps out ns grace
fully as she can, and she is not unwill
ing that her figure should lie compared
with the figure of her son’s lady ac
quaintances. Her morals are irre
proachable. She never did a wrong;
tint that is not the fault of her dear, gar
rulous husband, who never knew how to
mnke love to her. She wishes that
some young fellow would make love to
her, but she seldom finds him. When
she does, her simpering folly rails
blushes to the cheeks of her children,
while tho young m hinaughs ut her.
Manners.
What a rare gift is that of manners !
How difficult to define, how much more
difficult to impart ! Better for a man to
possess them than wealth, beauty, or
talent; they will moro than supply all,
— Bulwer-Ly It on .