Newspaper Page Text
VOLUME VL
1 HE FUTURE.
bt e. b. v\ >
Ob, the dim, uncertain future!
With its ever varying hues;
Sometimes bright and full of pleasure;
Sometimes giving one the blues.
Ob, the changes that may wait me!
Going down life's thorny road,
I can only ask our ltuler
For the strength to bear my load.
How T wonder if my footsteps
Will be traced to wrong or right;
And if I shall lose or conquer,
in this wobds great fight.
Will my life be vuin and fruitless?
Will it come to nought?
Will I find no vietc ry waiting
When the battle’s fought?
Will 1 have the strength and courage,
Evtr.in the fight
To work for truth and justice?
To distinguish wrong from right?
What doth life bring to us creatures
That float adown its tide?
What will we find to meet us
When we reach tho other side?
Is it really worth the living,
All this care, and toil, and pain,
Where we meet so many losses,
And so very little gain?
•‘lt is neither joy uor sorrow
To live this life of ours;”
It is not a happy dream-land
Filled with strange, sweet flowers,
Neither is it always gloomy,
With toil and care oppressed,
For we have some hearts to love us—
Some to love and be caret.sed.
%
So we find some bright days
Mixed in with cloudy weather;
So we find some lovely flowers
Growing down among the heather.
But it is our duty here
To work and labor ever
ITt right, and troth, and justice,
Mid to falter never, never.
So what fate mav hold for mo
I will not seek to And,
hat will pray for strength to ever
fie so true, and just, and kind,
Unit when I reach the journey’s end,
And the roe nil there is given,
1 will not bo ashamed to meet
One act, one thoyght, one word in lieav’n.
—Chicago Ledger.
MISCELLANY'
The Turn of Fate;
OR
The Sacrifice Averted.
Itv WALTER GARDINER, ESQ.
Twas a beautiful inland stream that
•lowed by rich, yellow cornfields and
meadows of purest green, in its tor
turns course to the blue sea. Miles
and miles and miles away it mingled
with salt water, and was lost in its
H >tle expanse, but here it. rippled
sweetly along, and glistening like a
!; ne of diamonds set in emeralds and
topazes.
It was the pride of Maple Lawn,
, this little river.
In summer, snowy sails dotted its
hiosorn; in winter, its congealed sur
ace was alive with merry skaters.
Inis day tlie June sunshine caused
car'll ripple to scintillate with beauty,
01 ‘ perhaps 1 should have said each
"uve, for there was a lively breeze.
!, i‘t there was only one on its waters
~~ a Let of rare occurence—and that
Vas skimuiing along like a bird, the
'pfoy dashing from its bows, and the
'Lite sail filled smooth.
L the stern wth the tiller in his
‘ l ‘ IL hand, and his right near the cleats,
su a youth of almost effeminate beau
b’, which was only relieved by the
1111 lips and bright steady eyes,
b-t his left- on the port "side, w r as a
}°uog gi r ] } not beautiful, but possess-*
; ‘o an irresistible power of attraction
‘ :i her calm, tender face apd large
lr °wii eyes.
Her lips, red as the ruby and deli
cately curved, were just apart, reveal
‘n the tips of her white even teeth.
Isn't it lovely, Nellie?' said the
• '"‘th glancing at the glistening spray
H the singing waters.
es,’ she replied in a low voice, ag
“ giZ 'd away over the warm, rich
nil,lr y, fertile in fiuit and beauty.
He have known each other ever
" ,lte We were children, Nellie; and
h ive never exchanged an unpleas
int word, never,' he continued, slowly,
1 the reflection made him happy,
smiled that glowing, sympathet-
ic smile which was beauty in itself,
and bent her brown eyes upon him.
H was answer enough—he did not
care for words—he could read a sweet
er answer in her glance.
It woulcj be hard to separate now
to sunder all the dear old ties, and to
tave no future to look forward to—no
future wreathed with the flowers of
the past, wouldn’t it, Nellie?*
Ills voice was modulated agaiii to
that yearning tone as he Uttered the
last words.
•Yes, Rupert, she answered frankly,
a faint color stealing over her face.
‘We could never be happy, I think
neither of us, if we should try to for
get our life here and the bright hours
we have together. It seeni3 to me
that our lives have already become a
pai tof each other. Why, we never
see a book, an animal, or even a curin
ous cloud on the sky, but that we
must have each other’s opinion of it
before it becomes beautiful to us. Our
tastes, our thoughts, our hopes are en
twined # and may I never live to see
them torn apart—that’s all *
It was the rapture of a young, in.
iiocent heart, uncorroded by the cares
of the world.
Nellie Hannover averted her head
that he might not see the great tear
drops in her eyes. Ilis words found
an ectio in her own nature. In their
yeats ot close companionship, she had
given her first, best and purest love to
Rupert Maylie.
‘lf' there is anything true in this
world—some people say there is not,
you know—it must bo our love for
each other, Nellie; I don't believe
that time or distance will break it.
Tnere must be some redeeming qual
ity m weak, human nature, and that
must be love. We can't have peace
without love. You I know,
that we are dearer to each other than
life itself, and knowing this we can
not but remain true. I wouldn’t bind
you by' a promise in set words to re
main true t> me, because I believe
nothing would make you do otherwise,
ami I am sure you feel the same to
wards me.’
‘Are you going away, Rupert?’ she
asked tremulously.
‘Yes, to-morrow,’ he replied in hoarse
voice, and then he arose, loosened the
lanyard from the cleats, and then
springing forward, eased the rudder
and took in the sail.
Nellie burst out weeping with a
childish abandonment to grief that
was touching from its very innocence.
Her true simple heart kuevv no disguise;
her nature, obedient to natural feel
ings, untarnished by polite deceit,,
sought solace in tears.
Rupert, struggling to maintain his
composure, seated himself in the waist
and shipped the oars. lie must have
something to take his attention from
Nellie's grief and his own sad thoughts
and so he rowed with a sort of despe
ration, until he came to a little inlet
opposite the maiden’s home. Guiding
the frail craft towards its mooring
place, he drew in his oars and leaped
ashore. Not until the boat was made
fast, and he ready to help Nellie out
did he speak, then he begged her not
to weep, and nearly choked himself in
forcing the words from his lips.
‘I can't help it, Rupert,’ she exclaim
ed as she placed her hand in his and
stepped upon the land, then she cov
ered her face again and he, winding
his arm around her waist, guided her
to the little grove just behind the
house.
Here they sat down upon a rustic
seat. Minutes passed in s’lcncc.
e l shall come back, Nellie, and the.*.
\v3 shall happy, fer we shall Dever
.part again. It is true it will be a long
time, two or three years perhaps, and
great changes may take place, but I
shall think only of you, and the little
h >ilc we are to have, where we shall
be as happy as two people can be on
earth. It will all come, darling. I
believe it to the depths of my soul.
We hare only to be patieut a little
while/ he said, pressing her slight form
close to him.
She covered her face and tried to
smile, but the effort ended in a sigh.
‘I shall write to you every week,
and oftener if I cau, and tell you of
my prospects, and in thinking of the
joy to come you will shorten many
long hours. You see, dearest, there
are no griefs without some rays of
gladness,’ he continued caressingly.
Her cheeks reddened with a grate
ful flush, her eyes shone upon him witli
devotion in their clear depths. lie
gazed upon her with veneration, as if
she were indeed a creature of ethereal
mould, and then he embraced her again
with all the fervor ofayearning heart.
'] he setting sun crimsoned the west
with his parting rays.
‘I must now leave you, my beloved,'
said Rupert arising, but still holding
her quivering hands in his. *We have
memories of the past to cheer us # and
hopes of the future to repay us for the
cad present. There, I must cease or
I shall lose my voice—man as I am.
dearest.'
She was still and pale now, and her
features gleamed cold with grief. She
shivered as his last warm kiss greeted
her, and then, turning into another
path, she walked slowly toward home,
her eyes downcast, her hands clasped
firmly together.
******
‘lt is the only way, my child.'
John Hanover uttered these words
in a low, wailing voice and gazed up
on his daughter iu mingled supplica
tion and despair. She stood before
him like a statue, her arms folded
across her her lips firmly com
pressed, and her white face rigid with
a terrible sorrow.
‘lt’s the only way,' he went on fran
tically. ‘I am ruined! I strove for
money—l have reaped dishonor. I
am au old man; I have but a few years
left, and unless you marry Martin
Farnsworth, 1 shall spend those few
years in prison—my name and family
disgraced forever.'
‘Great Heaven! is it so bad as that?’
‘Yes—one breath would hurl me in
to a felon’s cell. It is appalling, it is
maddening, but it is true. 1 confess
it with shame, for I am an old man,
and years should have made me stron
ger and nobler, but— ’
He paused, a spasm of pain distort
ed bis features, his hands clenched his
white hair, and tears rolled down his
wrinkled cheeks.
Nellie shuddered, and her blood
seemed to turn to ice in her veins. The
sweet past seemed a field of the dead
strewed with blighted hopes. Sho saw
her only parent bowed with an awful
grief, and she the only one who could
save him, but at the sacrifice of her
conscience, heart, and earthly happi
ness. Was it right to ask so much?
‘Will you do it? Think how I have
nourished you in my heart, how I have
loved you,’ he cried, placing his quiv
ering hands on her shoulders and ga
zing wildly into her face. ‘Will you
keep mo from prison—from ail infa
mous death?'
It required all the girl's strength to
control horeelf. Years had given her
fortitude, else she would have gone
mad under this mental strain.
‘Let us talk calmly, father. One
hour can make no difference in the re
sult either way. Tell me exactly how
you are situated.’
‘I have overdrawn my bank account
to a large amount, and sunk it in spec*,
ulation. Farnsworth is manager of
the bank. He holds me in his grasp
But why repeat these harrowing de
tails? I cannot consider them—it racks
1113 brain. Speak, Nellie, it is useless
to a>'gue. s
‘Be patient, please. This house and
land will bring more than that.’
‘Oh! you wiil craze me, girl—you
pierce my heart with your ignorant
words. This place is mortgaged, and
has been for months. I can’t sell it—
I am hemmed in—l have no resource
but you.'
‘I must bury my very life, and yield
myself up to a stranger as a ransom
for your liberty? Father, in your sor
row do you give one thought to the
sacrifice you ask of me?'
*Of course I do; but ycu arej'oung
and you will learn to love him. You
will forget your infatuation for Maylie,
and rejoice in saving your poor old
father and his name from blemish.'
‘Oh, Heaven, give me wisdom!'
cried Nellie, working her fingers to
gether, and raising her eyes upward
imploringly.
John Hanover gazed upon tremu
lously, his lips pirted, and his breath
coming thick and fast. He could not
look into her heart, and see the strug
gles there; he could only thinK of his
own peril, and his natural desire to
keep his name unstained.
Moments passed, aud the gill yet
stood silent and prayerful.
f oh, child, don’t prolong this ag’ony
—don't. I wish 1 had another chance,
but I have not —I have not,' he moan,
ed plaintively.
‘Father/ she said, her voice clear
and Arm, ‘I have looked at this in its
every phase. What you ask of me is
wrong. I love you; but I must be just
to myself. One has no right to ask
another to sacrifice all that earth holds
dear, that one may escape the conse
quences of one's own acts. I seem
harsh. I am only practical. I will
EASTMAN; GEORGIA; THURSDAY, AUGUST 22, IS7S.
share your grief with you, but I can
not sell myself and break my plighted
troth. NOj Heaven requires no such
sacrifice from woman—it is wicked.'
'Then you will see me dragged away
and imprisoned! Ob, thankless child!
I did not think you would desert me—'
‘Stop! I have not deserted
neither do I intend to do so. You think
me selfish, but never dream that you
were selfish in asking this monstrous
sacrifice. What has woman to hope
for in this world but love? Oh, father,
reproach me not lest your own words
make you miserable!*
Was this strong, brave woman the
little NelUe of five years ago?
Ah, how nobly had grown those lit
tle qualities which were then hidden,
but now shone forth in majestic gran
deur.
‘I will tell you what we are to do.—
have the house sold, pay off the mort
gage, leave the surplus to Farnsworth,
aud we will seek another country.'
‘What? You are losing your reason
Do you counsel me to fly like a thief ?
Are these my daughter's words?'
'Dishonor must come. lam willing
to share it with you. Were Ia parent,
my own disgrace would be preferable
to such a course as you have proposed.
Seek not to distort my words; I choose
the lesser evil. I would escape with
you from the clutches of this rapacious
man, who makes you need the price of
your daughter's lifelong happiness. I
will bear with your poverty, odium,
misery, but I will not sacrifice my
woman's heart.'
Her slight form expanded, her face
glowed with the inspiration of resolu
tion, Iter eyes gleamed brilliantly, and
her little clasped as if in pray
er, showed where her faith and con
sciousness of right were anchored.
‘Then adieu to everything I have
held dear. Your father becomes a fu
gitive--a hunted criminal at your be
hest. 4
And share the infamy,’ she answered
composedly.
‘Do you dream, foolish girl, that Ru
pert Maylie will ever look at yoiq
much less love you after this ?'
'I believe in his truth. If he should
prove treacherous that would not make
my actions wrong. Whatever comes I
shall have no remorse.'
‘Your trust is childish,' he exclaim
ed in mingled anger and grief. You
wreck your family name for a weak,
selfish passion. Well, let it be so, but
when I'm gone, you will repent and
think of my anguish.'
‘ls not mine as great ? Oh, father,
forget not my sufferings in nourishing
your own!’
Her father bent his head upon his
hands and groaned.
He could not sje that her sorrow
and disgrace came of his act, that they
would last through more years than
his, he only felt his own needs.
No more was said., and Nellie went
to her own room to reflect in solitude
upon the great and terrible change
that was about to come on her life.
The following day Mr. Hanover
made tiis arrangements to carry out his
daughter's advice, but with shame, re
gret and dismay.
He was still blind to her feelings,
aud thought she had acted ungrateful
ly.
In the afternoon, much to her aston
ishment and terror, Mr. Farnsworth
called, and Nellie was summoned to the
library.
There was no appeal now the man
had suspected that John Hanover was
trying to outwit him, and he was de
termined to have the affair settled at
once. The crisis had <;ome unexpect
edly, but it must be met.
Nellie, very pale but composed, en
tered the apartment, and bowed, with
cold reserve, to the bank manager.
Her father anxiously and tremulous
ly regarded her beseechingly.
‘I suppose it is needless to make any
extended explanation/ said Mr. Farns
worth politely ; but with a certain ex
ultation in his tone. *1 am here to so
licit your hand in marriage, Miss Han
over. As you are aware, lam a man
of position and great wealth— ’
‘ Then give my father one month to
raise money to pay your claim/ inter,
posed Neliie fearlessly.
‘Pray don't intrude matters of busi.
ness just at this time, he resumed,
smiling. ‘I offer you m3 7 hand. I crave
3 7 our answer.’
‘For Heaven's sake, Nellie, remem
ber me/ whispered Mr. Hanover, his
face ghastly, his form shaking like a
leaf.
‘I ask a week for consideration, sir,
at the same time thanking you for the
honor 3’ou would confer upon me/ she
replied.
‘You can have one hour,' said the
suitor witli a mocking bow; at the end
ot that time I shall return to this room
for your answer. Mr. Hanover, we
will leave the lady alone, if you
please.'
The father arose and accompanied
his master from the room.
Nellie sank into a chair and pressed
her hands to her brow.
What should she do ? The hope of
escape had been even sweet compared
with the alternative, but now it was
thrust back upon her. Unable to bear
alone the tumult of feelings that rack
ed her heart and brain, she dropped
upon her knees and prayed with the
fervor of a pure aud devout heart. A
half hour passed. She looked up and
beheld a strong, handsome man
ing before her his eyes bent upon her
affectionately. She knew that face,
though time had placed its disguising
marks upon it # yet she could not speak
—her voice seemed lost in the wonder
that flooded her mind.
Nellie, my own sweet love. My little
Nellie ! c
‘Oh, Rupert!’ .
She flew to his arms and nestled her
head upon the breast where in child
hood she had rested when tired with
play, where in girldhood she had felt
the impulse of love, and where now in
grief she found the first “moment of
comfort that had been hers for months
But it lasted only a few minuteSj then
her distracting thoughts returned in
full force, and she glanced at the clock
It lacked but five minutes of the hour.
Hurriedly she told her lover of the
position in which she was placed, and
begged his advice. He I tad not time to
answer, ere the door was pushed open
and Mr. Farnsworth entered. Pausing
and gazing at the lovers with disdain
he said :
‘Ah ! I really beg pardon. It would
be superfluous to ask for an answer
under the circumstauces,Miss Hanover-
I regret that your father must—you un
derstand.
Mr. Hanover was directly behind
him and as he heard these words his
spirit sank within him.
‘Stop one moment, Mr. Farnsworth '
interposed Rupert, coming forward.—
‘I h ive a word to say. John Hanover
owes nothing to you or your bank. I
have a certificate to that effect in my
pocket.’
'Very glad, I'm sure.'
Yes, doubtless. Look at me again.
You know me now. I saw your wife
just before I came away— ’
•Insolence ! Be careful, sir.*
‘Dont bluster or brag. I had occa
sion to chastise you once, and if you
tempt me I will Jo it again. I am boy
ish yet in some respects. Now listen
to me. You have done decently well
siuee you have beeu here, and your
money has got you a position, but you
have treated your wife shamefully.—
She is a good, noble woman, and if
you don't return to her, and behave
yourself, I’ll make the place too hot to
hold you, within twenty-four hours.—
When I say something you know I
mean it. Dont let me hear any eva
sions or threats, but tell me if you will
do as I command.’
Wes, but you’ll bear from me again,
Rupert Maybe/ hissed Farnsworth,
clenching his hands.
Bah! Leave us and be cautious how
you act.
With muttered anathemas, the dis
comfitted suitor withdrew,j and/ Mr.
Hanover glanced from his daughter to
Rupert iu amazement.
‘You placed the money to papa's
credit, didn't yoa, Rupert ?• asked
Nellie, the lovely light beaming in her
brown eyes.
‘Yes, darling. I found ou this affair
in a singular way. One of the tellers
of the bank —an acquaintance of mine
—wrote to me of the circumstances,
and I resolved to come on at once.—
How did I get so much money ? For
tune has been lavish of her favors. I
am a partner in a large mercantile
house ; and an uncle left me quite a
large property. I told you, my beaut’,
ful, my blessed, that we should be
happy.‘
‘And you deserve to be, my noble
boy/ said Mr. Hanover, grasping his
hand. ‘The logic of events has proved
my Nellie right. Heaven bless yon
both.
And Rupert returned to town with
Nellie as his bride. —Sunny South.
Do not put off God to old age; for
old, lane and sick sacrifices rarely
reach as high as heaven.
W hy is a woodpecker like a tramp?
Because he bores lor Ins grub. 1
A Woman’s Conscientiousness.
[Haverhill [Mass.) Gazette.]
Perhaps the reader has noticed while
journeying upon the Boston and Lo
well Railroad, at Willow Bridge Sum
eiviile, a plain but substantial brick
house upon the hill, only a moment's
walk from the station. Its doors have
not been opened for twelve years.—
Twelve years ago one of the brightest
and smartest mechanics to be found
in our bustling city-—young, h andsome
whose apparent fortune was his daily
wages, of which he was very careful,
saving all he could for the bright ob
ject of ids life, which was to marry
her whom he had won, as soon as they
could get money enough to commence
housekeeping—was engaged to a char
ming young girl. She was conscien
tious to a fault, brought up in the
most Puritanical ol Puritan lainilies,
good, pure and beautiful. One bright
morning in spring ho invited her to
take a drive in the suburbs. They
halted after an hour's drive in front of
this house. He asked her how she
liked it. Of course she wished it was
theirs; they could be so happy if they
only had a home Lke that. He invited
her in. The house had just b( en com
pleted and very nicely furnished. —
Judge of her surprise when he quietly
informed her that the property was
his, that he owned it. Why, she was
completely dumbfounded,and, of course
wanted an explanation. How, when
did he come in possession of so much
property? He tried to avoid the ques
tion, but she was firm. He finally
told her that he drew $20,000 in some
lottery scheme, and with its funds
built aud lurnisbed this home for her.
She turned upon him a3 though he was
the veriest gambler, vowing then and
there that she would never be his wife
until he gave back the property he had
gained by what she termed unlawful
mans. She scorned all efforts of his
to occupy the house. They separated;
parted at the door, which has not been
opened since. Tim furniture remains
the same to-day as when they left it
twelve years ago, except what age has
done. Both are wanderers upon the
face of the earth, both lives blasted.
A Romp.
Don’t scold your daughters for
romping. Outdoor exercise will do
them good. It is not enough to have
calisthenics in the nursery or parlor.
They need to be out in the sunshine,
out in the wind, out in the grass, out
in the woods, out-of-doors somewhere,
ifitbeno bigger than a common or
park. Suppose they do tan their
pretty faces. Better be brown as a
berry and have the pulse quick and
strong, than white as a lily and com
plain of cold feet and headache. Sup>-
pose they do tear their clothes; sup
pose they do wear out their shoes; it
don’t try a mother's patience and
strength half so much to wash and
mend as to watch night after night a
querulous, sick child, and it don't drain
a father's pocket-book half as quick to
buy shoes as it does to pay doctors’
bills. Children were nev. r meant to
be nursed like bouse plants.
Mauy people are puzzled to under
stand what the terms '‘fourpeuny“ and
“sixpenny,“ k and “tenpenny“ means as
applied to nails. Fourpennv means
four pounds to the 1,000 nails, or six
penny six pounds to the 1,000, and so
on. It is an English term, and meant
at first “ten" nails (the 1,000 being
understood ;) but the old English
clipped it to “tenpun,“ and from that
it degenerated until penny was sub
stituted for pounds. So when you ask
for fourpenny nails nowadays you want
those of which 1,000 will weigh four
pounds. When 1,000 nails weigh less
than one pound they are called ticks,
brads, etc., and are reckoned by
ounces.
There were five of them, says the
Sacramento Bee, and they had assem
bled in a cigar store near Capital Ho
tel. The subject was in regard to
horse racing. Said a hack driver who
was present; ‘Talk about your fast
time. Why. I’ve seen a horse trot a
mile in 1:90/ ‘lmpossible/ said the
cigar store proprietor. ‘lt can’t be
done. The best time I ever heard of
was 2:141/ Said the hackmau: ‘l’ll
bet you five dollars I can prove what
I say.' Taken by the cigar man, coin
put up, and referee chosen. In a
drawling voice the hackman explained
to the man of cigars:—‘Don’t you
know, you idiot, that 1:90 is two min
utes and thirty seconds?’ Turning to
the stakeholder, the tobacconist then
sad: ‘Give him the money: it's worth
five dollars to know what a fool I am ’
Any man pa3's to much for his whis
tle when he has to wet it fifteen or
twenty times a day.
"W hy are mosquitoes like lawyers?
Because they begin to make trouble
as soon as they arc admitted to the
bar.
The girls of a certain town place a
blue ribbon and a mitten on the table
when their lovers come to visit them,
and say, ‘Choose/
There’s no place like home—unless
it’s some nice young girl’s home,when
the old folks are at class-meeting and
the match box is empty.
m
Early to bed and early to rise makes
a man healthy, wealthy and wise; but
early to ryes and tardy to bed makes
a man’s noso turn cardinal red.
‘Why is it, my son, that a foreigner
with a glass can never vote in this
country?’ ‘Because, my respected pa
ren, he can never be natural eyes-d.’
-
‘Suppose I should work myself up
to the interrogation point?’ said a
beau to his sweetheart. ‘I should re-*
spond with an exclamation,’ was the
prompt reply.
* -♦
An old lady from the West said she
never could imagine where all the
Smiths came from until she saw in a
New England town a largo sign:—
Smith Manufacturing Cos,
Cider maj be a good temperance *
driiik, but I kan manage to get so
drunk ou it that I kaut tell oxarof'the
10 commandments from a bi-Jaw of a
base ball klub.—[Billings.
Don’t trundle your baby boy Jar a
carriage with his face toward you.
Com. Ado. Thank you! So kind! Bi
we never do. In fact, wc don’t use v
them at all. Baby boys, we mean.
A young roan, just returned from
New York, when asked where he put
up, said ho didn’t know the man’s
name, but there were three balls in
front of the door. He *put up’ his
watch to raise funds to get home.
An Illinois woman has written to
one of the assistant postmasters-gen
eral to pick her out a good young man
for a husband. She thought his ex*
perience with the mails would give
him an advantage in the selection.
Don't tell a man you sweat. It is
vulgar. Infirm him that you are be*
ing deprived of the saline aud oleagin
ous fluids of your material substance
through the excretories of your pel
lucid cuticle, with a sensible conden
sation of moisture upon the superficial
exterior.—[Exchange.
A Sunday school boy only six years
old was asked by bis teacher ‘why
they took Stephen outside the city to
stone him to death.' Tiie little fellow
was silent for a moment as though ab
sorbed with the problem, when bright
ening up suddenly he replied, ‘so that
they could get a better crack at him. f
•♦“*♦■ .
A doctor, while escorting a lady
home one evening, offered her a troche
to relieve her cough. He told her to
let it dissolve gradually in her mouth.
No relief was experienced, and the
doctor felt quite chagrined the next
day when the lady sent him a panta
loon button with a note saying he must
have given her the wrong kind of a
troche, aud might ne,ed this one.
■
‘Have you a card, sir?' asked the
doorkeeper of the house. The man
looked a little surprised, and auswered:
Card? No! I don’t carry a pack/
‘Where are you from?' inquired the
doorkeeper. ‘Nothe Carliny/ was the
reply. ‘What do you do down in
when you go a visit
ing? Don’t you send in a card to the
man you want to sec?' The tar-heel
laughed outright. ‘Lors-a-massy!’ he
exclaimed. ‘Why, we ride up to a
feller’s fence and holler to him to tie
his dog; and then we light and go iu/
NO. 34.