Newspaper Page Text
/HEAT.
room,
/as he;
o from his elbow joint
.kward knee,
ad his face was long,
.. face could be,
were bright with a dangerous
4 ae hummed with ghoulish glee;
“ Only a penny a loaf,
Only a penny a loaf,
’Tis only a penny a loaf to the poor,
But ’tis millions of dollars to me!”
He bought all the bread in the town one day,
And the poor man cursed amain;
But little he cared how the eaters fared—
He was not in a caring vein.
For the golden wheat that was made to eat
To him was a thing for gain,
So his features then wore a ghastly grin
As he hummed this merry strain:
“ Only a penny a loaf,
Only a penny a loaf,
Tis only a penny a loaf to the poor,
But ’tis millions of dollars to me!”
The poor man sat at his meager board,
With his wife and children near;
Oh, they saw not, I wean, the phantom lean
That gazed on their feast with a leer;
And they never thought that a guest un
sought,
The wraith of an old man queer,
Stood silent and grim in a comer dim,
And whispered this chorus drear:
“ Only a penny a loaf,
Only a penny a loaf.
’Tis only a penny to you, my dears,
And ’tis millions of dollars to me!”
—George Horton, in Chicago Herald.
JOHN GRAFTS WARD.
BT FRANK H. STAUFFER.
John Grant was in love with his ward.
He regarded his condition as a hopeless
one. He had been led to think so be
cause he was forty while she was but
twenty, and because of the difference in
their taste3, temperament and pursuits.
He was selfish, reserved, reticent,
wrapped up in his books. She was con
fiding, communicative, vivacious, fond
of out door-life,rebellious under restraint
and restless under mental discipline.
He was tall, spare, careworn, misan
thropic,his face homely in its sedateness,
his step slow, his gestures tardy, his ut
terances heavy. She was little, agile,
graceful, bright-faced, charming in her
outbursts of girlishness, serene in the
consciousness of womanhood, her voice
low, sweet, emotional.
He had been selected as her guardian
when she was five years old, and for the
remaining fifteen years, save when at
boarding school, she had been almost
constantly under his eyes. He had di
rected her associations, molded her
opinions,corrected her faults, anticipated
her needs. He had noted her develop
ment from a shy, awkward, impulsive
child into a loveiy, self-possessed, grace-
fel woman.
He was not over susceptible—in fact,
he was not suiilciently so; yet, thrown
so much into the society of his ward,
and enjoying so much of her esteem and
confidence, it was not/strange that he
imbibed an affection far her which grew
.into a passion—a passion which was con
suming him because so seditiously
jConijrSed it, ’
I P'-.kd never beep ” - .ware of
jsciousness thaffc. and the
xus, as the bright spritrg^'morning when
he stood watching her from the library
window.
She was strolling up and down the
wide walks, in the cheerful sunlight and
under the blossoming trees, listening to
Vincent Delisle’s pretty speeches, or an
swering them with saucy, incredulous
retorts. Her rich dress glanced in the
sunshine, and settled itseft into fresh
folds with every movement of her lithe,
graceful figure.
The young people seemed made for
each other. He was rich, intelligent,
attractive in face, handsome in figure,
genial in manner, faultless in attire,kind
in heart, appreciative in spirit.
John Grant turned away from the
window with a sigh, the troubled look
upon his face slowly giving place to a
look of resignation. He was soon ab
sorbed in his writing and researches, for
'he waspreparing the second volume of a
text book, the first volume of which had
been received with great favor.
In a little while he detected a sweet,
subtle odor; next he heard the noise of a
dress; then he knew that his pretty ward
was beside his desk.
“Oh, for goodness sake stop poring
over these books!” she cried, more ear
nestly than flippantly. ‘‘They are sap
ping the life out of you. I am begin
ning to hate them simply because you
love them.”
She leaned over his shoulder, her curls
touching his cheek, the contact of her
dress making his pulses beat faster.
“ ‘Astrology became the stepping stone
to astronomy, she said, reading aloud
from his manuscript. “ ‘Alchemy led
to chemistry. Thus the dreams of one
century became the science of the next.’
All that sounds very—very stilted, and
it is a question whether it is true. Pray,
come down from the stars, and out of
your laboratory and your aimless
dreams.”
He made no reply to her rapid com
ment. He was accustomed to such , in
structions and such criticism—and rather
liked them.
“Has Mr. Delisle gone!” he asked,
looking up, no traces of his previous
struggle perceptible in his face or tone.
“Yes,” she said.
“Why so soon?” her guardian asked.
“Well, I sort of dismissed him,” she
replied, with a little laugh. “He tired
me. He is altogether too—too—wor
shipful.”
“Ah!” ejaculated John Grant, trying
to catch her meaning, “I didn’t think a
lover could be too worshipful, though I
can understand how he might be too im
petuous. You are in a queer mode this
morning, Valeria.”
“It is breaking away, then,” she said,
softly laugh ng again. “Mr. Delisle,
too, charged-me with moodiness. I am
certain I did not yawn. But I am not
moody when I am with you, gardy. At
least, I don’t want to be." Can’t you
leave this work for a little while! There
is still time for you to become famous.
Get out the ponies and drive me over to
the deserted fort. I want to gather some
mosses; and the change will do you
good.”
“I saw Mr. Delisle’s team among the
trees,” remarked John Grant,
THE CITIZEN: DALTON,
“Yes,” assented she.
“Didn’t he ask you to take a drive I”
“Oh, yes. He is very thoughtful?”
“And you declined?”
“Yes, gardy.”
“But—why?”
“Out of pure contrariness,. maybe.
Perhaps I preferred to go with you.
Please don’t question me so per
sistently.”
The color came and went in her face,
and a girlish pout hung to her red lips
for a moment.
“All right,” John Grant said as he
put aside his books, “I appreciate the
preference.”
The reply would have delighted her
had his tone been less even and his air
less serene. o
The drive was a pleasant one, and the
ramble about the old fort and its en
virons more pleasant still.
She charmed him with her smiles, her
gurgling laughter, her sallies of wit, her
confessions of ignorance, her thorough
abandonment to the enjoyment of the
hour. He said to himself, as he sat alone
in his room that evening:
“I live in two atmospheres. One is
evolved from my books, musty, abstruse,
circumscribing, yet satisfactory and rest
ful. The other comes from the compan
ionship of my ward, is bright, healthful,
sympathetic, yet leaves me dissatisfied,
miserable, wretched. Ah—it is because
the books are mine, while she is not.”
A year went by. Valeria grew more
lovely, Mr. Delisle grew more persistent,
John Grant grew more morose.
“ V aleria, you are of age to-day,” the
latter said.
He had asked for a business interview
and she was seated opposite his desk.
She abhorred business details, but she
knew that the occasion demanded her
attention.
The afternoon was dying away. The
red sunset shone against the windows.
Some of the rays^ fell upon Valeria,
heightening the sheen of her dress, re
vealing the transparency of her com
plexion and adding a shade of burnt gold
to her beautiful hair.
“My stewardship is closed,” John
Grant continued, a faint regretfulness in
his tone. “The court has approved my
accounts. You are in sole possession of
this vast estate. Wildermar is yours.”
She watched him covertly, her hands
folded in her lap, her face strangely
sober.
“I tried my best to discharge my
duty faithfully,” he added.
“Yes,” answered she, with a little
gasp. “You found me selfish and will
ful.”
“No, Valeria,” promptly protested he.
“Rarely willful; and never selfish.”
A painful silence ensued. Her eyes
were bent to the floor in intense, half
painful thoughtfulness. She was review
ing, the past—she was thinking of the
future.
“You will leave Wildermar?” she
faintly asked.
“Why, yes,” he said, passing his hand
over his mouth to hide its tw’tching
muscles. “My work here is done. I
must seek new fields, a new home. I am
not apprehensive.”
“It seems not,” she said, a little dis
tractedly. “Neither about yourself nor
about me. But I am not competent to
manage the estate, nor have I the* incli
nation. The responsibility is too great.
Care is irksome to me. Mr. Grant, why
can you not stay? Why can you not
continue to manage? Whatever com
pensation—” . - • ^ .
i ?«iNp.-c^^^i^- L hi^ntmrupj^d,. aImost4
“Oh, since it isn’t agreeable to you I
will not insist,” she said in a strident
tone, a look of vexation on her face.
“Valeria, that wasn’t kind in you,”he
reproachfully said. “It has been agreea
ble to me, and it still would be. But,
for reasons best known to myself, I must
decline to oblige you.” ^
“Alwaysremember,” she rejoined, her
tears very near, “that I have been grate
ful for all you ever did for me.”
“Why, to be sure, child,” he said.
The word “child” brought an angry
sparkle to her eyes. He saw it, but failed
to divine the cause.
“I merely did my duty,” John Grant
resumed. “The court fixed the compen
sation and I thought it sufficient. Mr.
Delisle will help you to manage the farm,
for no doubt you will shortly be married
to him. You are pretty, intelligent,
wealthy ”
“Mr. Delisle has no designs upon my
wealth,” she interrupted.
“Why, of course not,” John Grant re
plied, the color monnting to his cheeks.
‘ T believe him to be the soul of honor.
I never knew you to misinterpret my
words with snch persistency.”
“Have you anything more to eay to
me, Mr. Grant?” she asked, after a
pause.
The voice did not sound like hers.
He was used to her abrupt ways, and yet
he found himself keenly scanning her.
He had thought, at times, that she
lacked womanly dignity, but he did not
think so then. In spite of her yonng
face and innocent girlish ways there was
an unmistakable atmosphere of high
breeding about her, and a certain royalty
of look and attitude.
“I believe that I have nothing more to
say at present,” he slowly replied. “To
morrow I can explain the accounts,
especially those which refer to uncom
pleted operations.”
She rose to her feet, and their eyes
met. There was a yearning, wistful
look in hers that he had never seen there
before.
“He cares little for Wildermar, and
less for me,’’she thought as she left the
library, her lips quivering, a throb of
pain at the heart.
Ah, she didn’t know!' It was hard to
John Grant to leave Wildermar, with its
extensive grounds, its lordly mansion,
and its luxuriantly furnished rooms, and
it was harder still to leave the sweet,
bright young girl whom he loved with
a fervor that had something of idolatry
in it.
“I offended her in some way,”" he
thought, his brows knit, the lines around
his mouth growing stern. “She does
not seem very exuberant, now that she is
in possession of Wildermar. The sense
of proprietorship does not overwhelm
her. I never saw such a dissatisfied
look on her face. I don’t understand
her, and I’m afraid Mr. Delisle doesn’t.
She tempted me fearfully, but I cannot
stay! No, I cannot stay! I must go
where I can forget l”
That night he was awakened by the.
sound of wheels upon the drive. He
looked out of his bedroom window. It
was moonlight, and he saw, much to his
astonishment, the family carriage stand
ing under the trees.
The horses were pawing rest, ssly, the
stableman was talking to them now and
then in an undertone^ while
male servant staggered into si
another
ft with a
large trunk which John Grant
as his ward’s.
“Why, what does this mjan?” he
asked himself, puzzled and alarned, and
hurriedly dressing himself. 1-
As he stepped into the wide tiall he
saw the dim outline of a shrinkii g form,
and heard repressed breathing.
“Is that you, Valeria?” he de landed,
in an authoritative tone.
“Yes,” she answered in disi lay, her
voice scarcely louder than a whj per.
John Grant struck a match an Hit the
chandelier. There stood hs ward
equipped for travel, flurried in I$r man
ner, her face expressing vexatk|n and
chagrin.
“This is a, strange proceeding John
Grant said, fixedly i*egardin| her.
“Goodness, you were not going to run
away with Mr. Delisle?”
“No,” she simply said, a swift pallor
crossing her face.
“Nor can you possibly be Mnning
from him?”
“No,” she said, with an appealing
gesture, one hand pressed against her
heart. “I am running away from nyself.
I am running away from you, John Grant.
That is the truth, however nuch it
humiliates me to say it.”
She shrank closer to the walii. Her
lips were tightly drawn. Her jhands
were clenched in a spasm. There’ was a
movement in her throat like the struggle
of imprisoned words. A gleam of intense
yearning shone in her eyes, and then the
lids fell modestly over them.
John Grant was dazed. He rjubbed
his temples, as if to aid himself tojthink
with clearness. The light that broke
across his face was like the play of light
upon a dusky cloud. He took her hand
and led her to one of the easy chairs in
the hall. ([
“Valeria,” he chokingly said, as he
stood over her, his gaunt frame trembling,
“do your words admit of more than one
interpretation?”
For reply she buried her face in her
hands and burst into tears.
“Don’t, dear,” he gently said. “It
distresses me very much. Can \it De
possible that I have been so blindr Va
leria, I have loved you for years—devot
edly, passionately, wildly. I was afraid
to tell you—afraid even to have yon sus
pect it. I snpposed the knowledge
would have made you miserable, yon are
so sympathetic in your nature. The dif
ference in our years, your weath, and
all that, sealed my lips. And now that
I know that my love is returned, my joy
robs myspeehof its fluency, £blurt
out just what comes first to my mind.
And are you not fond of Mr. Delisle?”
“Mr. Delisle?” she repeated betw'een
her sobs. “Fond of him! Mr. Grant, I
love you a thousand times more than I
do him! You never would have known
it only you—you—drove me into admit
ting it.”
He could not tell whether she was
laughing or crying. He smoothed her
hair, and impressed a kiss of betirothal
on her cheek.
“I’ll tell Amos to bring in your
trunk,” he said.
“Yes,’please.”
“And I’ll stay to manage Wildermar*’/’
“And me,” added Valeria, hMttj^ce
suffused! with blushes, her eyes raBi a j?h
“Yes,” my precious,” he said.‘iror n P;
if y’o'fr dike that-b #teiy
Press. \ ——
After Sedan.
iseo* gate of the cityi writes
General Sheridan in ScrUmer, tve came
on the German picket line, an|d one of
the offiieers recognizing our uniforms—he
having served in the war of the Rebellion
—stepped forward and addressed me in
good English. We naturally fell into
conversation, and in the midst of it
there came out through the gate an open
carriage or landau, containing two men,
one of whom, in the uniform of a Gen
eral and smoking a cigarette, we recog
nized, when the conveyance drew near,
as the Emperor Louis Napoleon. The
landau went on toward Donchery at a
leisurely pace, and we, inferring that
there was something more important at
hand just then than the recovery of our
trap, followed at a respectful distance.
Not quite a mile from Donchery is a
cluster of three or four cottages, and at
the first of these the landau stopped to
await, as we afterward ascertained,
Count Bismarck, with whom the diplo
matic negotiations were to be settled.
Some minutes elapsed before he came,
Napoleon remaining seated in his carriage
meantime, still smoking and accepting
with nonchalance the staring of a group
of German soldiers near by. who were
gazing on their fallen foe with curious
and eager interest.
Presently a clattering of hoofs was
heard, and looking toward the sound I
perceived the Chancellor cantering down
the road. When abreast of the carriage
he dismounted, and walking up to it,
saluted the Emperor in a quick, brusque
way that seemed to startle him. After
a word or two the party moved perhaps
a hundred yards further on, where they
stopped opposite the weaver’s cottage so
famous from that day.
The Ink Plant.
There is a plant which grows m New
Granada, which if it could be only
grown in sufficient quantities, would not
only be of incalculable value in a mone
tary sense, but an aid toward lightening
the labors of the ink manufacturer. It
is commonly known a3 the ink plant,
and the juice is used without any prepa
ration. According to the traditions of
the country, its properties seem to have
been discovered during the Spanish ad
ministration. A number of written docu
ments destined for the mother country
were embarked' in a vessel and trans
mitted around the cape. The voyage
proved to be an unusually tempestuous
one, and as a consequence, the docu
ments became saturated with salt water.
Those written with the ink of the chem
istry became nearly illegible, while those
written with “chanci,” as the name of
the juice of the plant was known, re
mained unaltered.
As a resuit of this discovery, a decree
was issued that all Government commu
nications should, in the future be writ
ten with the vegetable juice. The ink
is of a reddish color when freshly writ
ten, becoming perfectly black after a
few hours, and it has the recommenda
tion of not corroding steel pens as readily
as ordinary ink.
The Argentine Republic received 71,«
971 immigrants during the first six
months of the current year. ^
Woman is born for love.
Think well before taking action _
Live to explain thy doctrine by thj
^Happiness is not perfected until it »
!h The tender, humble, broken heart is
the best thank offering.
He who wisely nses his wealth need
not. leave it for his tombstone.
* Do the truth you know, and you sha
[earn the truth you need to know.
! Th e s i e ht of a man’s money is ott-
times the antidote for the odor of a verv
bad character. , ,
The most delicate, the most sensible of
all pleasures, consists m promotin., th
pleasures of others.
1 A woman may be ugly, leaped,
wicked, ignorant, silly and stupid, bu
hardly ever ridiculous.
Do not wait for extraordinary oppor
tunities for good actions, but make use
of common situations.
But the path of the just, as a shining
light, goeth forward, and increaseth even
to perfect day. The way of the wicked
is darksome; they know not where they
fall.
The things which thy eyes have seen
utter not hastily in a quarrel, lest after
ward thou mayst not be able to make
amends, when thou hast dishonored thy
friend.
No one can ask honestly or hopefully
to be delivered from temptation unless
he has himself honestly and firmly de
termined to do the best he can to keep
out of it.
LOOK TO YOUR INTEREST!
SAVE TOUR MOHEl!
Alabama Cotton Seed Crusher!
FIRST PREMIUM AT GEORGIA STATE FAIR, ALABAMA STATE FATE, CRu
TANOCGA VALLEY EXPOSITION, 1888. ^
The Whale.
The main physical characteristics oi
the whale are its distorted jaws, with
upward directed nostrils, its great bulk,
and rudimentary limbs. The huge bulk
of the creature is driven forward by the
flexible caudal fin, ana while the body is
rigid in front, it exhibits great mobility
behind. The blow-holes are placed on
the top of the head, and the animal can
only respire when these are above water.
The larger whales travel at the rate ol
about four miles au hour, but when pur
suing their prey, or goaded by pain,
they rush through the water at a much
greater pace. They are aided in this by
the broad and powerful tail which is
their chief organ of locomotion. Instead
of being vertical, as in the fishes, this is
horizontal, and the larger species can
command immense driving power. The
tail is also used as an offensive and de
fensive weapon. The smooth, skmiDg
skin is immediately underlaid by a thick
coating of blubber, the great object of
the whalers. This is at once dense and
elastic, and, while it preserves the ani
mal heat, it also serves to reduce the
mighty bulk of the whale and to bring
it nearer to the specific gravity of the
element in which it spends its existence.
An interesting trait in the economy of
the whale is the manner in which it
suckles its young. In doing this it
partly turns on its side, and the teats
being protruded, sucking and breathing
can proceed simultaneously. Natural
ists divide the cetacea into two divisions
represented by the .“whalebone” and
“toothed” whales. In the former the
teeth are replaced by a series of great
yla^es ^ a|, ho"”'
the Careen-I—the whalebone of commerce.
The laminae which comprise this num
ber, about 500, are ranged about two-
tnirds of an inch apart, and have their
interim; edges covered with fringes of
hair. Some of these attain to a length of
fifteen feet. The cavity of a whale’s
mouth has been likened to that
of an ordinary ship’s cabin, and
inside the surface conveys the idea
of being covered with a thick fur.
The soft, spongy tongue is often a mon
strous mass ten feet broad and eighteen
feet long. It might be thought that the
whale, with its vast Lulk, would want
sea creatures of a high organization to
nourish it; but this is not so. Its chief
food ^consists of minute mollusks—of
medusae and entomostraca—and with
these its immense pasture grounds in the
northern seas abound. In connection
with these will be seen the beauty of the
mouth structure. “Opening its huge
mouth,” says Professor Huxley, “and
allowing the sea water, with its multi
tudinous' tenants, to fill the oral cavity,
the whale shuts the lower jaw upon the
baleen plates, and, straining out the
water through them, swallows the prey
stranded upon its vast tongue.”—■Sat’/ / r
day Review.
B «y the Ala.
bama Cottonseed
Crusher, grind
yourseedathome
and make tout
own fertilizers.
Ground cotton
seed is as good or
better [than cot
ton seed meal.
Investigate fo:
yourselves.
-Three Bushels a Minute!
Price $50,00. Every Machine Warranted!
WE ALSO MANUFACTURE
ENGINES, SAW MILLS, CANE MILLS, CASTINGS,
/
£^=Write for Circulars.
MONTGOMERY IRON WORKS,
Feb. 14, 1889—ly. MONTGOMERY, ALA.
Don’t rot your
Cotton Seed.
Don’t put them
in the ground
whole.
Either way one
half their fertil
izing properties
are wasted. Why
waste any when
you can derive
b ;nefit from all?
CAPACITY-
America’s Costliest Set> _ooks.
Probably the most costly set of books
in this country is a tweuty-niue volume
edition of Motley’s “Rise of the Dutch
Republic,” owned by Mr. Clarence H.
Clark, the Philadelphia banker. These
volumes are said to have cost their ownei
$50000. Originally, says the Record of
that city, the set consisted on nine hand
somely' printed volumes, which have
been extended by the insertion of some
2500 portraits, engravings, autographs
and maps, making the present elaborate
and costly..work* The set is not quite
filled with illustrations, however, and
Mr. Clark is still diligently seeking aftei
more material. Every famous Genera]
or diplomat of the time of the Nether-
landic war against Philip II of Spain is
represented by portraits engraved by ex
perts of great reputation. The set con
tains valuable autographs, remarkable
scenes of battles and sieges, of marriage
and funeral processions, of declarations
of peace and of victories, and the illus
trations form a wonderful gallery of con
temporaneous pictures bearing upon and
confirming Motley’s masterly narrative
of the great men and events of succes
sive generations of Butch heroes. The
twenty-nine volumes are handsomely
bound in Levant morocco, and are of the
imperial folio size so necessary for such
an elaborate work.
A Blind Boy in a Mine.
In the Pine Grove Mines, Esmeralda
County, Nevada, there is a blind boy
employed to do errands, tend cars, and
the like. He has a most remarkable
faculty of finding his way, not only
through the intricacies of the mine, but
about the town. He goes to any part of
the mine for tools and never goes astray,
and on dark nights he ^guides the other
miners from the tgfrj “ the house where
most of them lot
find the way 5b l
is narrow and <7
are many prospA den
can’t easily
or the trail
on each side
v old cellars.
I
1
— AGENT FOR THE—
Atlas Engine and Boiler
Works}
Steam Pumps, Duplex In
jectors and Hancock
Inspirators ;
Gould’s Manufactur 1 n g |
Co’s Pumps and Hybrau-.
lic Machinery;
Missouri Tent and Awning
Company;
The Celebrated Red Jack
et Double-Acting Lift
and Force Pumps;
Anti-Friction Packing ;
Jenkins’ Standard Pack
ing and VanDorn’s
Wrought-Iron
Fence.
826 Market Street,
FLEMING
-DEALER IN-
Iron Pipe, Fittings, Brass
.Gas, Steam Plumbing,
Mill, Railroad and Machinists’
kcrPFLIES.
«. n. HEIMS
DALTON, GA.
Dealer in DRY GOODS
BOOTS, SHOES, GRO(
RIES, PROVISIONS,
General Merchandise.
Trapping Musk-Bats.
Joseph Steele writes as follows in
Farm and F.reside: Boys, if you would
like to make a little money, get an old
barrel and make a musk-rat traD out of
it. Knock out the bottom and the head,
and then nail the head together with
cleats, as shown in the illustration. Run
a stiff piece of wire through the head
and through holes in the side of the
barrel, so that the head will revolve
freely. Then fasten a piece of iron to
one side, so that after the musk-rat tips
Three Events In the Life of a
getfal Man.
the head down it will go hack to it*
position. Sink the barrel in the water
about half way, near the musk-rat holes.
I have caught moje than a dozen in one
night this way. They are sure to jump
upon a piece of board or such like.
In skinning musk-rats, begin at the
legs and cut on the inside from one to
the other, and then pull the skin over
the head. The skins are worth twenty-
five to thirty-five cents, and find ready
sale at a fur store.
A lioTf Manure.
M. Dusgsti, an eminent French chem
ist, in an article in the Journal d 1 Agri
culture Pratique, draws attention to a
new manure, fluoride of. calcium. He
states that he has used it with great ad
vantage for several years. For his last
crop of wheat he used the fluoride at
the rate of 264 pounds per acre., and ob
tained thirty-three bushels per acre, or
double the yield of his district under
favorable conditions. The best way to
nse the substance, he says, is in conjunc
tion with superphosphate of lime, but
it is important that the latter should be
sown separately and first, especially in
soils which are veiy slightly calcareous.
It is possible, he explains, that if the
two manures are used together the free
acids of the superphosphate would set
at liberty hydrofluoric acid, which has
an injurious and possibly poisonous
effect upon germination. At present
fluoride of calcium is sold at a compara
tively high price, M. Dussan adds, as it
is used only to a small extent in manu
factories, but if an extensive demand for
it should arise he expects that if will be
produced as cheaply as the natural
phosphates. More than a year ago M.
Reboulet remarked upon the good re
sults of using a phosphate poor in phos
phoric acid, but rich in flour, and M.
Dnssau’s experiments confirm that an*
nouncement.
His Wife—“Edward, isn’t it ab
time you stopped going downtown!
dressed?”
NOON, AT HIS RESTAURANT.
Chorus of Guests and EmpIoJf
“Hi, there, you’ve got my hat!
on, you haven’t paid your check!
your umbrella, Mister I”
' AT HIS OFFICE.
Trying to remember “what in
dickens” he called that
for!—Puck.
messenger I
Customer (alter a shave)—Great »
barber, that razor of your’s is in a
rible condition I j .
Barber—Yes, sah, I spect it am *
was out to a dance las’ night.
MBfl