Newspaper Page Text
VOLU3IE YI.
THE WISE PARROT.
UY JENNY BTOVIN.
In an Indian bazaar they had parrots for sale
Gaudy parrots ot brilliant hue,
Swinging about on their gilded stands,
Chatt’ring the little they cunningly knew.
The salesman looked on with a knowing air,
Watching the strangers who stood to gazo
At the noisy birds w’ho basked in the sun,
('idling al nid in its sultry rays.
At length an Englishman, old and wise,
S .id that he wished a parrot to buy—
One that was handsome, intelligent too;
And Go scanned them all with an eager eye
Price was no object; so the best of the birds
Were then paraded before his view;
Such a bevy of biilliant things—
Crimson and yellow, green, gokl and blue.
They chat'red the phrases audvvords wellkuown
That Indian parrots so generally say;
Every one said the self-same thing—
All but a silent old bird in gray—
Which sat in a serious and sulky mood,
Watching them all in a scornful style,
Holding its head a whit ou one side,
While the sidtsman looked ou with a grati
fied smile.
The Englishman mark’d the grave, gray bird,
And turned in a jocular, mocking way,
“From a brilliant crew like this,” he said,
“It’s hard to buy one bird away;
Their string of phrases is long and good;
Their plumage inspection will earnestly bear;
But who will purchase that old gray bird
That sits so grave on the perch up there?
Halloa, old bird! with your ragged tail,
Your hall-closed eyes and horny beak,
Have yini no words like these merry birds?
Do you never parley, or never speak?”
The parrot shook and rattled its ?hain,
And said, while it rubbed its head with its
claw;
“Idon’t talk much, but I’m worth three pounds
For, take my word, l think the more.”
The Englishman look’d with great surprise
Aud said in a tone of the highest glee:
“Take this ten pound note for the old gray bird,
Aiul send its cage to the ship for me.
If it speaks such sense in a single phrase,
The very first speech that the bird has said,
I'll b t it knows as much as I;
What a fund of w isdom must lie in its liead.’>
“I should not wonder," the salesman cried,
As he put in his purse the ten-pound note,
Aud he took good care to send the bird
In time to leave by the evening boat.
But the parrot repeated this one speech,
For the rest ot its life and all its days,
Till the owner was sick of the hackney and sound,
And hated the oft-repeated phrase.
It was all that the bird had learnt or knew.
But there are many mm like it, alackaday,
lou will hear all they know, the extent of all,
In the very first sentence they venture to say‘
MISCELLANY.
OUT OF THE SHADOW.
A Sketch IVoia Life.
BY NETTIE LOVELESS KIERULFF.
The sunlight fell in golden glory
around me, us I started fora walk in
the fresh morning air through the
grounds of my childhood’s home to con
template, and probably fcr the last
time, its dear and almost sacred beau
ties. AJy heart was heavy with lone
liness and distress and passing under
a favorite oak that had sheltered my
head from the lu dday sun, I gazed
around at many beloved objects that
were now the property of another.
There was the tall old house where I
was born, with its long verandahs and
snowy columns ; there, the clinging
ivy planted by the fair hands of my
beautiful sister who sleeps so quietly
in the shadow of the lilacs while their
blossoms fall softly on her unkept
grave. There were the winding path,
the crystal spring, all so dear to my
heart, but from which I must part
f jrever.
I was now very poor. The beloved
■old homestead had passed into other
hands, and l girl of eighteen, must go
out info the world orpin houseless
alone and almost penniless .
I had always loyed art, and in palm
ier days had studied it assiduously,
and now thrown on my own resources
for my own resources for my daily
sustenance, I resolved to win a name
and fortune by the gift Go l had given
me.
I bade a farewell to the loved spot
where I had passed my happy arnbi
tious hopes for the future, took the
noonday train that boro me and my
precious portfolio to the city of A.
My simple purse warned mo to se
lect unpretentious lodgings where
I spent the night thinking of the bril
liant life 1 would eve itualiy lead in the
great city. I had never known pover
ty, was young, ambitious and imagin
ative, and believed firmly that the
most complete success would crown
my efforts in the aitistic world. Morn
ing however found me somewhat con
fused and uncertain how to begin my
business. Glancing over the paper I
noticed tlie striking advertisement of
a portrait painter, and feeling that no
acquaintance would he so valuable to
me as one of my own profession, I
made careful selections from my port
folio, and with hopes started for the i
studio of the popubir artist.
I entered the elegantly furnished
apartment timidly, and although the
gentlemen met me with courtesy, I
ielt completely crushed by the impres
siveness of my surroundings.
Portraits in massive gilt frames stood
on all sides of the room, reaching al
most to the ceiling They represented
noble looking men and elegantly dress
ed though rather insipid looking la
dies.
I was only a simple-hearted country
girl, and so ashamed did I feel of the
little 18X20 studies I had taken from
my collections, that I could at that
moment have dropped them in obliv
ion.
But this emotion passed. I had
studied art because it was a passion of
my soul, and I felt that an excellent
course ol instruction had imparted to
my taste just powers of discrimination.
Controlling my feelings of reverence
lor the look's ot the studio, I examined
the portraits carefully, and saw at once
that as paintings they were far from
perfect. I felt that I could take the
brush and with my own band add ex
actness, truth, delicacy and beauty to
the faces that gazed at me from every
side.
The artist gave me all the informa
tion I could desire aoout his paintings,
his evident wish being to impress me
with the idea that they were the most
wonderful productions of the age.
\\ ilh some degree of pride I at length
presented my little studies for his in
spection and criticism, asking at the
same time if he thought I could make
it profitable by establishing a studio in
the city.
He looked in astonishment from the
picture he was turning carelessly
about, transfixed me with his keen
little eyes, and then running his white
lingers through his dark hair, inform
ed me coolly that lie thought it utter
folly for me think of such a thing
That artists of the highest ability could
scarcely keep from starving, and while
my specimens evinced some little de
gree of talent, I had been educated in
a false schoool of art —my coloring
was all wrong. He would be glad to
have me as a pupil, but as to making
a living by the art, I had best take his
advice and give up the idea at once/
‘1 cannot take your advice,’ I au
swered curtly. ‘I shall establish my
studio at once/ and taking my bits of
Canvass from the man who seemed de
termined to obliterate me from the art
world, 1 bowed him good morning,
and went out into the bright sun-lit
streets ready to cry out with indigna
tion and disappointment. I had been
told by connoiseures that my pictures
were creditable studies in art, and now
the popular artist, the man whom it
was the fashion to patronize and ap
plaud, had failed to see anything in
them save some very slight indications
of talent. I felt his criticism was not
just, and resolved at least to make an
effort to share his very gratifying pop
ularity.
It was quite puzzling to know how
to begin, but at last I settled upon the
plan of painting the portrait of some
distinguished man of the city, intend
ing to put it on exhibition, and in this
way attract the attention of the pub
lic, feeling assured if the capricious
spirit of favor should smile upon me,
I might secure as much work as I
could wish. So absorbed was Iby my
idea, that I did not discover until I had
reached my lodgings that I had lost
my most valuable painting. I retraced
my steps at once, searching and enquir
ing fur it, bat to no purpose. It was
only marked in one corner by my sim
ple name, Genevra. So distressed did
1 feci for its loss that I forthwith pio
ceeded to advertise it, describing my
Madonna head, and offering a reason
able reward fur its recovery. This
somewhat reassured me, and ordering
a piece of canvass I commenciM work
on the picture that was to bring me
fame and fortune.
I worked carefully and patiently,
copying and enlarging with scrupu
lous exactness the photograph of Gen.
ll—, conscious that the realization ot
my bright hopes depended on the suc
cess my work. My means grew very
small forcing me to economize in ev
ery expenditure. But I determined to
succeed. One fear assailed me, and
though I often put it aside, it came to
me sometimes, bringing a quick pang.
ft was the fear lest my eyes should
fail. Often while I worked a sudden
momentary mist came between me and
my canvass, and a lance-like pain dart
ed through the delicate centres of
slight. But I disregarded the warning.
1 could not afford to be thus admen,
ished to lay aside my precious project
and rest my over-taxed visual organs,
still I worked on, correcting, elaborat
ing and retouching, A month passed,
and I had not added the finishing
touches. I labored under one disad
vantage—l had never seen Gen. II—•
and had to depend entirely on the cor
rectness of the photograph I had pur
chased, and the newspaper description
of lnm that 1 kept constantly by mo.
There was a very exciting political
meeting going on in the City Hall, 1
learned one morniug Übout eleven
o‘clock, and that the original of my
picture was one of the principal ora
ors. We were in the midst of one of
our almost tropical summers, and at
the time of day the sun was blazing
down unmercifully, but I determined I
would see Gen. ll and judge myself
of the correctness of my work before
offering it for public criticism.
I walkel hurriedly along the hot
and dusty streets till I reached the Hall
which I entered in a tremor of excite
ment. I refrained from looking at the
speaker's stand for a time, and as I
raised my eyes, the orator poised him
self in his favorite position, and as it
was the exact one I had copied, I was
overwhelmed with joy at the triumph
I had achieved. I gazed with delight
upon the animated counterpart of the
image I had worked out so patiently.
My happy tears could hardly be re
strained, and I hastened out into the
open air. Then a fervent ‘tnank
Heaven V fell from my lips. With ela
ted steps, I hurried along I know' not
whither until all of a sudden it seemed
to grow strangely dark. I gazed up
at tire sky, the sunlight fell warmly on
my face, but still I could see but a faint
gleam of light. I gazed down at the
pavement, but my world was envel
oped in uttei darkness and I c raid not
distinguish my way. Suddenly the
truth pierced my brain like lightning.
The calamity I had refused to be warn
ed of had overtaken me. My over
taxed sight hid givenen wav. I was
blind! Blind and helpless! Great
God, couldthis be true ? Overwhelmed
at the enormity ot my misfortune I
stood there in the almost deserted
streets and prayed, oh, so earnestly
that if God had taken away my sight
from me to let me die. Realizing at
length that I must get home, I asked
a passerby to call a hack, and was
soon in my own room. I hoped that
the cool shade of my lodgings, quiet
and rest, would restore my sight, but
hour after hour I waited to no purpose.
Evening came on, the lamps were
brought in, but still all was darkues
with me.
The maid informed me that a gentle
man had called while I was out, and
said he would come again in the even
ing as lie wished to see me on particu
lar business.
lie came. Dismissing my guide at
the parlor door, I entered the room
alone, but realizing how helpless I had
become, I stretched out my hand,
which was elapsed between two cool
palms, and a manly though tender
voice said sympathetically, ‘Let me
lead you to the sofa. The landlady has
just told me of the great misfortune
that befell you this morning I earnest
ly regret it and hope your sight may
be restored.
There was something in the touch
of his soft hand, and the pleasant,
sympathetic ring of his voice that
made me trust him, and before I knew
it I was talking quite free'y to this
stranger, whom I might never see, and
talking of myself, of the hopes I had
entertained and of my present helpless
condition.
‘lfound your picture—thelorely lit.
tie Madonna head,’ he said when I had
finished, ‘and came around mainly to
see if I could purchase it from you—l
love art, I have studied it for years in
Paris, and paint still occasionally for
my own pleasure and gratification. I
will pay you a hundred dollais for it-
Will you part with it?’
A hundred doll trs ! If I was blind,
I would be independent still with that
fora time. I told Idm how 1 felt, ac
cepted the offer and thanked him earn*
estly for the purchase. When leaving
he asked me if he could come next
morning and examine my portrait of
Gen. II --. Of course I consented
gladly. He came and he extolled my
picture until I felt almost repaid for
the loss of my eyes. The picture was
put on exhibition and attracted univer-
EASTMAN, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, IS7S.
sal attention. News reporters, appre
ciating this, besieged my humble lodg
ings and ere long had worked up a
very touching little romance of my
youth, poverty and misfortune Kind
ness and complements were bestowed
on ine by many distinguished persons,
but Prof. Woodville, the purchaser of
my lost study, became my one dear
and devoted friend. He visited me
oltea, and somehow I always forgot
my misfortune in his presence. He
described scenes, places and circum
stances so truly to me that I almost be
lieved I saw the animated pictures his
sweet voice presented to my mind's
eyes.
He came one morning to read for
me as usual, and when about leaving
mentioned that he would start for Par
is the next day. Business called him
there ; so he must part from his little
friend. I felt as if someone had asked
me to give up my life, and I clasped
my trembling hands over my poor blind
eyes.
lie sat down by me; he took my
hands in his ; he asked me to go to
Paris with him ; to be his wife 1 lie
loved me and me only.
I was alone ; I was helpless ; I was
blind ; I loved him as my life ; I mar
ried him ; I was happy. On reaching
Paiis a celebrated oculist attended me;
I began to improve rapidly and one
day my sight was suddenly re
stored.
It was my express! wish that ray
face should be the first my
sight rested upon, and the physician
telling me to remove the screen after
lie bad gone out, went and sent up my
husband.
Ttie room was darkened; 1 saw dim
ly at first, then clearly. The door
opened and I stood face to lace with a
middle-aged though well preserved
gentleman. I was irresolute for a mo
ment, blit as I gazed up into the bril
liant, though ti iider dark eyes. I felt
that 1 at last looked upon the loved
face and form of my idol‘zed husband.
He Wanted to be a Juryman.
Presently the stillness of the court
was interrupted by the < ntrance of a
man who came in with a shuffling, un
easy step, with his hat in his hand.
He halted and leaned against the rail
ing. Nobody took the least notice of
him, however. At last he took cour
age and spoke.
‘ls the Judge in?’
The clerk immediately awoke Ilis
Honor.
‘Well, what do you want?'
‘l'm lookin' for a job, yer Honor.
I've been lookin' for work over a
month.’
‘There is nothing for you here, sir.'
‘I thought you occashunly give jury
men a job. I don’t read newspapers
any, and bein' a stranger in town, 1
hain't got no prejudice ag’in anybody.
A pard of mine wrote down to Reno
last week, and said that the jury busi
ness up here was brisk, and it would
pay to come up. As I'm a stranger
to ye, aud a little hard up, I’ll stand
in and serve for a case or two for half
price till ye see what I can do.’
‘What is your principal qualifica
tion, sir?’
‘My strong p’int is in making a jury
agree. No juries ever hang if I’m on
'em. I jist lay low till the first ballot,
and then jine the majority and argue
the rest into it. I kin discount any
lawyer talkin'. I kin show 'em up
p'ints they never tumbled to before.
Sometimes I have to use force, but
that is seldom. Once down at Truck
ee, in a murder case, there was a cou
ple of fellows standiu' against bangin'
and after aiguein' with 'em as smooth
and gentlemanly as T could for half an
hour, I went for ’em with chairs, and
by the time I had bursted a half-dozen
pieces of furniture on ’em they were
glad to come in with a verdict of mur
der in the first degree, and the feller
was hung not long afterwards. In
justices’ courts you can bet on the
jury, and if you'd jist wink as
to how you want a case to go, I'll
guarantee to fetch in the verdict you
want or not take a cent.'
The Judge told him to call around
in a day or two and he would try and
find a vacancy for him, but in order to
do so a regular juryman wauld have
to be discharged.
Mrs, Shoddy's views are interesting
to those who are thinking about keep
ing a carriage. She says that she has
thought it all over, and come to the
conclusion that brooches are almost
too large, that these here coupons are
too shut up, but that a nice stylish
i pony phantom seems to be just the
1 thing.
Recent Post-Office Kulingsi
The husband cannot control the
correspondence of the wife, and if the
wife requests that tetters directed to
her be not placed in the husband's
box, the postmaster should comply
with her request.
Currency cannot be sent in sealed
transparent envelopes unless postage
is paid at letter rates.
A registered letter cannot be at
tached while in the hands of a post
master before its delivery, as the de
partment holds it in legal custody for
delivery to the person addressed or
according to his or her order.
To inclose an envelope with a writ
ten address thereon, to be used at some
future time, would subject any pack
age of which it forms a part to letter
postage.
A publication claiming two places
or localities as its office of publication,
cannot be mailed from either place at
pound rates.
The Postoffice Department has do
authority to detain or open letters
sent in conformity to the laws govern
ing their transmission in the mails;
suen letters must be delivered to the
person named in the addiess, or ac
cording to his or her order, as soon after
arrival as practicable, but it is the
duty of the postmaster to obey a man
date of the court, and should he have
undelivered letters in his office addres
sed to a persun on trial in court, and
the court having served on such post
master a subpena duces tecum , itwould
be Lis duty to appear in court with
the letters, and, once in court with the
letters, the jurisdiction of the Post
office Department ceases, and if said
letters are opened the responsibility
rests with the court.
Anything whatever pasted, gummed
or attached to a postal card subjects
the same to letter rates of postage.
'1 he law makes no provision for the
mailing of ‘extras,’ except that they
must be prepaid at the rate for printed
matter.
To inclose a handbiU in a new.-paper
sent to a regular subscriber would sub
ject the entire package to postage at
the rate of 1 cent for each two ounces
or fraction thereof.
Tin dishes are unmailable.
Printed matter cannot be returned to
sender unless the Postmaster is fur
nished with stamps or money to pre
pay the same.
Postmasters are not required to open
their offices on Sunday unless a mail
arrives on that day.
To paste a printed slip on a postal
card would render the same subject to
letter rates of postage.
Soap is unmailable.
Any matter partly in print and part
ly in writing is subject to letter rates
of postage.
Packages of merchandise not pre
paid in full, at the rate of 1 cent for
each ounce or fraction thereof, should
not be forwarded.
When two or more kinds of mail
matter are inclosed in the same pack
age, the entire package is subject to
the higher rate.
Advertising sheets received in bulk
mail prepaid at pound rates should
not be delivered unless postage is paid
at double rates, 1 cent for each ounce
or fraction thereof.
The insertion of anew date or figure
in a circular makes it subject to letter
rates of postage.— Western Postal Re
view.
No Boom There.
A belated and rather poverty strick
en foot traveler, whose railway ticket
was good on all country roads and
cattle paths, stopped at a sm dl man',
sion of apparently four rooms and a
kitchen, in the South Ilill suburbs the
other evening, to beg a night's lodging.
As he stood timidly knocking at the
half open door, he heard the shrill com
manding tones of the lady ot the house
disposing the garrison for the night.
‘Tommy, go and hunt up Charley and
Hon and tell them to goto the grocery"
and tell your lather to bring Ella and
Willie right home, it's their bed time;
and if they see Louise on their way,
send her to Miss for Alice
and Jim, and see if they know where
Ezra is; you take this lamp up to
Grandma’s room and ask her if she
won't take care of baby wh le I go and
find Dick, and while Pm gone you un
dress Mabel and put her to bed; and
if cousin Harry comes while 1 am gone
tell him he’s to sleep with you.’ And
the traveler sighed and turned away
so oppressed with a feeling of over
crowdedness that he walked out in the
country" and slept in the middle of a
prairie nine miles long. —Burlington
llaw Lege.
Removing Spots from Cloths.
Spots ol Sugar, Glue, Blood, Albu
men.— On white goods, on dyed tis
sues of e >tton and wool, and on silk,
simple washing in water.
Spots of Grease.—On white goods,
soap water or alkalies; on dyed tissues
of cotton, hot soap water; ditto of
Wool, soap water or ammonia; cn silk,
benzine, ether, ammonia, magnesia,
chalk, yelk of egg.
Colors of Varnish,Resins. —On white
goods, and on dyed tissues of cotton
and wool, turpentine, benzine, ether,
soap; rub with care.
Sifariue Tallow.—On white goods,
on dyed tissues of cotton and wool,
and on silk, alcohol at 95 deg.
Vegetable color?, Wine aud Fruit
Stains, Red Ink.—On white goods, va
pors of sulphurous acid, hot bleaching
powder solution (weak); on dyed tis
sues of cotton and wool, wasli with
warm soap water, or ammonia; on
silk # same; rub softly and carefully.
Alizarine Ink.—On white goods, tar
taric acid, more concentrated as the
spot is older; on dyed tissues of cots
ton and wool, weak solution of tartar
ic acid if the color allows; on silk,
same, with care.
Rust, Black Ink.—On white goods,
warm solution of oxalic acid, weak
muriatic acid, on dyed tissues of cot
ton, repeated washings with citric acid
if the color is well dyed; ditto of wool,
same, muriatic acid if the wool is of
the natural color; on silk, no remedy.
Lime, Lyes, Alkalies.—On white
goods, simple washing with water; on
dyed tissues of cotton and wool, and
on silk, weak nitric acid poured drop
by drop, and rub with the finger the
spot previously moistened.
Acids, Vinegar, Fruit Acids, Mold.
—On white goods, washing with wa
ter or hot solution of bleaching pow>
der, weak; on dyed tissues ol cotton
and wool, and on silk, ammonia, more
or less weak, according to the tissue
and the color.
Tannins, Walnut Shell stains.—On
white goods, Javelle water, bleaching
powder water, concentrated tartaric
acid; on dyed tissues of cotton and
wool, and on silk, chlorinated water,
more or less dilute, according to tissue
and the color, and alternately washing
with water.
Tar,Wagon Grease.-On white goods,
soap, turpentine aud jet of water ah
ternately; on dyed tissues of cotton
and wool, rub with pumice stone, then
soap, then let stand, wash alternately
with turpentine and waiter ; on silk,
same, but use benzine, and let a jet of
water fall from a height upon the back
of the spot. —Scientific American.
Wliat Becomes of Wealth.
A boot and shoe dealer has hanging
in his store a pair of boots worth sev
en dollars. They constitute a part of
his wealth, and a portion of the wealth
of the world. A man buys them and
begins to wear them; by friction
against the pavement little particles
ot the leather are rubbed off, anil thus
separated from the rest of the sole.
Every particle that is thus removed
takes out a portion of the value of the
boots, and when the bools areeutirely
worn out the seven dollars of wealth
which they formed is consumed. The
wheat, corn, etc., which was raised
by our farmers last summer is being
eaten up. No particle of the matter
is destroyed by this process, but the
value which was in the grain is de
stroyed.
As, while men are wearing out clo
thing and eating up food, they are
generally busily employed producing
wealth of some kind, the wealth of
the world is not usually diminished by
the consumption, but it is changed.
This applies, however, only to person
al properly; town lots and farms gen
erally retain their value, but personal
property is subject to perpetual de
struction and renewal. As the several
particles of water which constitute a
river are forever rolling away to the
ocean, while their places are being
supplied from trie springs and foun-
so the movable wealth of the
world is constantly being consumed
to gratify human wants, and constant
ly being renewed by the restless ac
tivity of human industry.
A young man made his appearance
at Dead wood last week in a pair of
white trousers. lie was promptly es
cor led to the train, put on board and
an injunction laid upon him never to
revisit the place. ‘We can stand a
biled shirt/ a miner exclaimed, ‘but
when it comes to wearing biled draw
ers it's more'ii we’re agwine to put up
with.'
STpIiUMORIb
The late worm escapes the early
bird.
m —*
*A popular steak-holder—the grid
iron.
Nursery song—Bub ill, bub ill, toil
aud trouble.
What is that which never asks any
questions but requires many answers?
The street door.
To blow out a kerosene lamp with
safety to yourself—Get somebody else
to do the blowing.
The label upon a bottle of ague rem
edy, requesting the patient to shako
well before using, is superfluous.
Young swell—l should like to havo
my moustache dyed. Polite barber—
Certainly; did you bring it with yon?
Nothing casts a man down more
than to h ive In's last match go out; es
pecially if he has bitten the end off
his cigar.
Why is an auctioneer who sells a
woman a bottle of cordial a base cow
ard? Because he knocks her dowu
an elixir.
The goat cats 449 kinds of plants,
more than any other brute in creation,
and yet he can’t lot old oyster cans and
newspapers alone.
Mr. Rifell attempted to kiss a young
lady at a picnic last week, but stum
bling he fell down. The girls now call
him blunder-buss.
There are some mysteries you can
never solve, and one of them is why
the man who goes to market just for
a diink always carrit s a basket.
Why did Joseph’s brethren put him
in the pit? Because they thought it a
good opening for the young man. Also
to get him out of the family'circle.
When it comes to destroying sleep,
a cow with a bell ou will double dis
count a guilty conscience and beat it
ninety-seven points out of a possible
hundred.
lie said he rather guessi and he knew
how te sail a boat—but the gentle
zephyrs that kiss the wavelets over
his watery grave mournfully whisper,
‘lie luffed not wisely '
‘How is it, miss, you gave your ago
to the census taker as only 25, when
youfwere born in the same year I was
and lam 39?' ‘Ah! you have lived
much faster than I, sir.'
An Indianapolis barber who aband
oned his business and went into the
ministry, was suddenly called upon
one Sunday to baptize three candidates.
He got along very well, but after bap
tizing the first he astonished his con
gregation by lustily shouting, ‘Next!’
A self-sufficient fop at an evening
party, after annoying the company for
some time by his attempted wit, seeing
a lamp half filled, turned to a young
lady, and said : ‘Can you tell me why
that lamp is like me ?' to which she
instantly’ replied : ‘Because it is half
fool (half full.)
Who ever heard a swallow tale
Or wore a coat of arms?
Who ever saw the water pale
Or gave great falls alarm?
Who ever rode a wild saw-horse?
Or ever heard sand’s tone?
Who ever saw the sun's rays course
Or heard a pane full grown?
f VVhat is the defendant's character
for truth and veracity?’ asked a Maine
lawyer of a witness. ‘Waal, now",
squire, she allers used me fust rate.
I’ll be bio wed if she didn't. As for
voracity, squire, why, bless you, that
w"as her big holt. Why, I've seen that
air gal eat a whule ' Here the
Judge asked the witness if lie under
stood the question.
*
r l hey were talking about the weight
of different individuals in a certain
family in Newark the other evening,
and the daughter's young man, who
was present, spoke up before he tho't,
and said, ‘l tell you that Jenny isn't
so very light either, though she looks
so.' And then he looked suddenly
conscious and blushed, and Jenny be
came absorbed in studying a chrorno
on the wall.
NO. 38.