Newspaper Page Text
VOLUME VII.
g
L 7
jJf\
V
MAKE <JHILt>HOOI> SWKET.
Wait not till tbo little hsOids are at rest
Kre you fill them full of flowers;
tVint liD for the cfowuing tuberose
To make fcweet the lust sad hours;
Hut while in the busy household baud
Vour darlings still need your gitidiug hand;
Oh, fill their lives with sweetuess!
Wait not till the little hearts tiro still,
For.the loving look and phrase;
lint while you peutly elido a fault
Tire deed kindly praise;
The word you would speak beside the bier
Fall* sweeter far ou the Jiving eir,
i)b, fill young live* with sweetness!
Ah! what arc kisses on clny-colcl lips
To tLe rosy mouth we press,
Wliou'Cmi w: ■oue flies to her mother's arms
for love’s tenderest caress]
Let never a worldly bauble keep
Your heart from the joy each day should leap.
Circling young lives with sweetness]
i{jlire thanks each morn for the sturdy boys,
Give thanks lor the fairy girls;
With a dower ot wealth like this at home,
Would you rifle the earth for pearls?
Wait not for 'Gath to geru love’s crown,
Hut daily shower life’s blessings down,
And fill young hearts with sweetness!
Eemcmber the homes where the light has fled,
Where the rose has failed away;
And the love that glows in youthful heart*,
Oh, cherish it while you may!
And make your home a garden of flowers,
Where joy shall bloom thro’childhood’s hours,
Aud fill joung lives with sweetness!
—Christian Register.
MISCELLANY.
Marion of the Moors.
i&mmSgk
A wide stretch of breezy moorland,
corned with purple heather, a sky
whose radiant sunset tints were fast
.fading into neutral gray. Far in the
■distance some slowly rising spirals told
warmth and shelter. It was a grateful
sight to the eyes of a young man who
had lost his way among the seemingly
interminable solitudes, broken only by
the sound of a startled rabbit, or
whirring wing of a frightened p*r~
Hndgt.
Shouldering his game bag he at once
durned his Jsteps toward the welcome
harbinger of home comfort.
As lie reached the modest cottage
dt# paused almost unconsciously, and
looked upon the family group just as
they gathered around the table for
th< i (vening meal. I hen he passed
•i »nd gave a busk rap at the half
open door.
fft was answered by a young girl./—
Doffing his cap the stranger said :
‘I am alone and have lost my way
among the moors. Can you give me
die wherewith to break my last, and
a *d’f that a directing hint homeward,
tome in/ said the tanner^ who had
Hovud M.u.on to the door. You
e vve come to aught we have, hat
I *" ^ lst » dien it will be time to
taring, llaste, Mat ion, and
Set a chan lot the youth, and bring
not porridge.’
Marion obeyed, Louis DeMornay’s
eves following her with a look of won
dor ^fking iu tfieif* dark but brilliant
depths. How had such a pure white
Wy blossomed from such a rugged
“tern, with a skin so soft that the blue
veins upon the temples could be traced
‘ 1 n ' ath it, and eyes so large and clear
ln pie ' r unclouded blue that he could
ta; riy imagine them tinted from the
fk* ’fsell as they looked out from wav.
ln g masses of sun-bright hair, fastened
' by the modest sheen of blue rib
boa.
Pouts DeMornay was a young Cu
Pan *’bo h*d lately fallen heir to large
’ S 'ates, both in England and upon the
continent. One of these was a fine
luting seat in Scotland, where he was
^pending' being f the Autumn months ; and
0 • romantic temperament, it
wa 8 a great pleasure to biiu to sally
0 " t w ‘thout his gamekeeper, aud to
hit way over the country alone.
This was the first time he had become
ew ildered as to location, aud with the
Mtusiasm of his tropical nature, he
a <Fd a si'ent but earnest thanksgiv
,n S to the old cottager's blessing
tbe over
food th ey were about to partake ;
for it was to him like the hand of fate
lha J hc ^ been l*d to the home which
Ds 11 bied such a maiden.
Ne *“r in his wandering land
and over
fair sea, had his eyes rested on one sc
- -nd like L some blossom that
ma "‘ 8 folded in it erlyx for and
then a years
b ms * 8 onpe into loyercompell-
* \
ing beauty, so did his heart open to
receive into it sweet Marion's image.
She could bnt feel the influence of
his Magnetic glance, and color Jstole
softly into her cheeks; and tfie blue
eyes ccarcely dared lift themselves
from out the ahtbusli of the fringed
lids as she listened lo his conversation
with them. Why did hej heart flutter
so with pleasure when he accepted an
invitation to remain until the morrow?
See was glad to seek the solitude ot
her room to question and chide her¬
self. What had this fiery-fingered man
to do, with her simple Cottage life ?—
Yet the memory of those burning glan¬
ces would come back and fill her soul
with sweetness.
All unwitting of the true attraction*
farmer McGregor responded to the
young man's expressed desire to try
his hands at the birds upon the sur
rounding moors lor a few days, by a
cordial invitation to him to remain as
his guest.
In his sturdy pride it never entered
his mind that his child would think of
liftinghcr eyes to that of a dark stran
ger^ who, though to his knowledge a
man of rank and consequence; was not
all to his taste in looks, with such
midnight dark hair and eyes, and a
complexion like a Spaniard, though lie
well ^1 iked to talk with hint and to
listen to his tales of other lands and
cities.
So it came upon him like a shock,
when after his stay bad lengthened in'o
weeks, he sought him one morning
and told him the real attraction. It
was his pearl—his •— liily—it was
Marion.
The old man's lips opened at first
for a burst of atiger^ but lie was his
guest. He had eaten of his salt, lie
controlled hitnscR and answered quiet¬
ly, but with a firmness which argued
ill for the young man’s suit.
‘My (laugher must marry in her
own station, when the time comes.—
She’s over young yet to make her
choice. You do us honor, by your pro.
posal ; bnt the time will come when
you will thank me for seeing the fob
ly of this unseemly union.
‘Sir^ she shall be cherished as she
deserves to be, if you will only give
her to me. The DeMornays were nev.
cr known to be aught but a chivalrous
race. Think again I bog yon. I love
your daughter so truly that it can be
bui she returns it. Such a fire could
not bui'H without creating at least a
a shadowy flame.
‘Have you not spoken to Marion^
yourself.
‘It is the custom of my country 'jo
speak first with the father/ and the
young man raised his head proudly to
meet the old farmer's questioning look,
H have sought you first/
*That is well, I should ill like to have
my daughter unhappy. I avisli you
well, sir, aud success in all else you
undertake.'
‘The wish, without the gift I seek,
will be bnt little good. You take the
spring out of my life, and then hope
the machinery will work.'
There was a little sting in his voice
as j ie S p 0 k Ci but Duncan McGregor
was unmoved. Marion was his one
little lamb, and no stranger could claim
her, unless it was a youth alter her
own heart.
Tt’ue to his code of honor, Louis de¬
parted without telling Marion of his
feelings, although he did not intend to
give her up.
A f ter he had gone Marion dropped
She made a brave effort to keep up,
but it was to no] purpose. The light
died out of her eyes, aud the soft bloom
left her cheek. Her father noticed the
change and taxed her with it.
‘I hope it’s net moping you are after
that dark stranger, Marion, He's
naught attractive to my way of think¬
ing. He’ll not be back, either, for he
got more from me than he looked for.’
‘Oh, father! Tell me, what do you
mean/
The blue eyes looked unnaturally
bright as they gazed up into the old
man's stern face.
‘I mean that what I told him is true,
and the sooner you put thoughts of
him out of your mind the better it
will be for your peace. No lad from
foreign parts, with such a blackamoor
face, can marry my snow-white lass.
A sudden joy kindled the pale face
and looked out of the wide eyes.
‘Oh father, did he ask you for me ?»
Then heaven will be praised ! I read
his looks and acts aright. Oh/ said
she, sinking down upon her knees and
catching her father's horny hand and
kissing it. ‘I had lost my faith in hu
man nature, and you have given it
back. Bless you for it ! Ob, father,
if that face could tell a false story,then
EASTMAN, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 20,
the angels themselves would be un«
true
‘Calm yourself Marion/ interrupted
her father sternly. Did you not hear
me? It's all at an end. You cannot
be his bride. It would be like the
mating of the crow and the du*e.‘
l I care not, so lie loves me/
mar
mured Marion softly. ‘Hear my vow '
she added, suddenly, arM again she
sank upon her knees and raised her
pure, childlike but resolute face to his.
‘I will never marry Louis DeMornay
without your consent ; but I will love
him my life long, and die a maid for his
sake if I cannot be his wife/
It was too late to check her. The
Vow had been taken; and would be
kept* Thd strict old father himself
would not have dared to ask her to
break it.
Matters went on about the same at
the farm. Several years passed by,
during which Louis was constantly
changing his position, as indeed it was
necessary for him to give personal su¬
pervision to his various estates.
During tin’s period of unmitigated
prosperity to the wealthy youug land
owner, farmer McGregor had been
gradually but surely going down in
the world. A succession of bad crops,
a disease among his fine Durhams, until
scarcely a poor half dozen remained
of his large herd, and a murrain
which proved fatal to the sheep, left
him at last in a very strained condi¬
tion.
Still he had managed to get his rent
money together. Tne pa)-day was
near at hand, and the farmer had put
the hardly earned money in a leathern
wallet preparatory to a start.
‘Well, wife/ he said with a sigh,
•here's pay for the last year. It’s
main doubtful, though, where the
next will come from/
‘Keep up, Duncan/ was her cheer¬
ful answer. It's all for the best,
though one cannot know always just
why. 7
So ho started away to the Lird‘s
country seat on his stout cob, without
a weapon of defense, for it was a peace,
able country, and he had no fear of
molestation.
But his journey was not half over
when in some lonely woods through
which the road ran, an escaped convict
seized his opportunity and knocked
him senseless from his horse, rifled his
pockets, and mounting, lode rapidly
away with all his plunder.
About half an hour later he was
found by the game-keeper of an ad¬
joining estate and taken at once to tl e
big house and cared for. 1 he master
was away but the house-Keeper was
kind and efficient, and under her good
offices ho soon came to consciousness,
but not s to the ability to help himself.
One blow had fallen - on his shoulder
and it proved to be dislocated. There
was no alternative but to remain, per¬
haps for weeks. So the good woman
sent for Marion to come to her father,
having, by judicious questioning, as¬
certained that she was the light of his
ok! eyes next to the good wife, who, of
course, could not be spared from home
duties.
Marion camp, much to her father’s
delight. The day after, the young
proprietor arrived also. The house¬
keeper at once told of his stranger
guests, and lie hastened to assure them
of his cordial welcome.
Asffie entered the room Marion arose
from beside her father’s ’bedside, and
after one surprised glance, held out
her hand, her eyes shining like twin
stais. It was Louis DeMornay.
Ilis face brightened with a suddeu
light as he went forward. Taking her
two tender hauds in his own, he turn¬
ed to the old father.
‘See/ he said gravely, ‘It is the will
of God that you should give me Mari¬
on for my owu. Her steps have been
led to my roof tree by the hand of fate.
She is to me the most precious treasure
iuthe whole world. Will you not give
her me V
The old man looked up into the dark,
earnest face. Its expression of sincer¬
ity could not be misintei preted, and
in spite he became for the first time
conscious of noble, manly beauty.—
Then, too, Marion's vow ran through
his ears, and he turned his eyes on her,
which wag like an April morning—first
smiles and then tears.
At last he reached out a trembling
hand and placed it ou Marion’s bright
head.
‘ Fake her/ he said hoarsely. ‘It
is
God’s will, and tfie lass loves you. I’m
not sure if I wouldn't give her up, but
that the poor bairn might soon be with¬
out a sheltering rooftree. The world's
not gone wcil for me of lat**, young
man/
‘That is because you slighted Love,
and the little tyrant is angry,’said Lon.
is, playfully, as he turned and looked
questioningly into Marion’s blushing
face.
‘Little one, is it true ? Do you love
me ? Lo>k up and tell/
She tried to raise her blue eyes to
bis, but their radiance was too power
fid- Her sweet lips Uembled, but be
fore the words came they were drown¬
ed in a shower of tears.
Thus they were betrothed/
Flinging Money Away.’
Times may he hard and work scarce
but there are people who seem to be
able to bowl along pretty gaily in the
rush of old time extravagance, arid
make the dollars fly profusely. An
instance in point was related to a De¬
troit reporter by a lady who had wit¬
nessed a curious scene in a fashionable
millinery establishment. This lady had
gone in with the intention of purchas¬
ing a bunnet. Having made a choice
of one costing $14, it was beiug put
for her, when a lady, the wife of a mer¬
chant, and somewhat noted for 110 ?
pronounced costumes, entered on the
same errand.
'liie whole establishment was |rau
sacked to please hjr ; bonnets and
hats from $20 to $50 were rejected as
“rather common/’ cheap material/'
etc. Finally, the milliner exhibited a
bonnet the exact counterpart of that
sold a few minutes before for $14, and
demanded $75 for it as the most re¬
cherche piece of head-gear in the es¬
tablishment. On tins presentation it
was accepted and purchased at once,
paid for, and ordered sent home.—
When the purchaser had gone the
lady first mentioned said to the milli¬
ner:
‘How could you have the conscience
to charge her $75 for just such a bon¬
net as you let me have for $14 V
‘Madam/ replied the shrewd business
woman, ‘that lady has to be charged
five prices or she will not buy, and
there are a dozen like her whom I can
name. Do you know that she lias such
an idea of extravagance that when for
once in her life she went to o der some
roast be< f from a leading butcher in
the central market, and the butcher
said he could give a beautiful cut for
ten cents a pound, she snapped back,
‘You ought to know better than to
think we can eat 10-cent meat/ ‘Oh/
replied the butcher, ‘we can give you
some at 18 cents/ and he has ever since
supplied that family with meaf at 18
cents, which other people get at 10
cents.’
lhis is a fact. It may be pleasing
to remark in this connection that the
husband of the lady obtained a settle¬
ment with his creditors a couple
years ago on very easy terms.
A Happy Woman.
What spectacle more pleasing does
the world afford than a happy woman,
contented in her sphere, ready at all
times to benefit her little world by her
exertions, and transforming her briars
and thorns of lite into roses of Para
dise by the magic of her touch? There
are those wffio are thus happy because
they cannot help it; no misfortunes
dampen their sweet smiles, and they
diffuse a cheerful glow around them,
as they pursue the even teno? of their
way. They have the secret of eout mt
ment, whose value is above the philos¬
ophers stone, for without seeking the
baser exchange of gold, which m »y
buy some sort of pleasure, they eon
vert everything they touch into joy.
What their condition is makes no dif
ferenee. They may be rich or poor,
high or low, admired or forsaken by
the wicked world; but the sparkling
fountain of happiness bubbles up in
their hearts and makes them radiantly
beautiful. Though they live in a lo
cabin, they make it shine with luabe
that kings and queens covet, and they
make wealth a fountain of blessings to
the children of poverty. Happy wo
men are the highest types of humanity
and we cannot say how much we owe
to them for the progress of the race.
A thoroughgoing infidel, who had no
religious belief whatever, and was
glad that he hadn’t any, was recently
stricken with paralysis at his house a
few miles west of Utica. When he
recovered consciousness and powers
of speech, his first request was that
some one would read him a chapter
of the bible.
—---
The holiday season approaches,
when a young man must show his gift
enterprise.
The Two Murphy’s.
A good story is told of commedisn
Joe Murphy.
It was during the “blue ribbon’'*
excitement, and Joe was journeying
to a small town in the vicinity of Pitts
burg. As the train steamed into the
depot, it was boarded by a half dozen
men, who, after a hurried confer
ence with the conductor,
the comedian with beaming faces.
‘Mr. Murphy, I believe/ said the
spokesman of the crowd.
‘I am at your service, sir/ replied
Joe.
‘Delighted to meet you, sir. We are
the committee appointed to take you
in charge/ and they fairly dragged
the astonished Joe from the car, put
him in a carriage, and they were soon
whirled swiftly away.
‘God bless ns/ thought the exponent
of Irish peculiarities. ‘This is very
kind. Never was in this town before.
A man's reputation does travel and
that’s a fact.
In a short time they reached to ho¬
tel, and the committee having placed
Joe in the best parlor suite, prepared
to depart.
‘We will call for you after supper,
Mr, Murphy/ said the spokesman.
‘One moment, gentlemen/ cried St.
Joseph, ns he pulled the bell-cord vig
orously. ‘Waiter, drinks for the par
ty/
‘Drinks !’ shrieked the conclave in a
chorus. ‘Mr. Murphy are you not
mad ?'
‘Mad V echoed Joe ; not a bit of
it. Name your beverages gentle¬
men/’
‘Oh, this is terrible blacksliding/
said one. ‘Francis Murphy ordering
drinks/
‘Francis Murphy/ repeated the per¬
plexed Joe. ‘I am Joe Murphy, the
comedian/
They saw it all, and rushed wildly
out of the room in search of the tern'
perance apostle, who was then toiling
painfully from the depot on foot, “to¬
ting’’ a huge carpet-bag.
Both the Murphys drew large houses
that night.
Betting- and Gambling.
The la‘e Canon Kingsley wrote as
follows to his son:
My dearest boy:—There is a matter
which gave me great uneasiness when
you mentioned it, Vou said you had
put into some lottery for the Derby,
and had hedged to make safe.
Now all this is bad, bad, nothing
but bad. Of all habits, gambling ° is
the , one T I , hate most, and , , have avoided
most. Of all habits it gro ws, most on
eager minds. Success and loss alike
make it grow, Of all habits, however
much civilized men may give way to
it, it is one of the most intrinsically
savage. Historically it has been the
source of excitement of the lowest
brutes in human form for ages past.
Morally it is unchivalrous and unchris
j tian
1. It gains money by the lowest and
most unjust means, for it takes money
out of your neighbor’s pocket without
giving him anything in return.
2. It tempts yon to use what you
fa.icy your superior knowledge of a
horse’s merits—Or anything else—to
your neighbors harm.
I! you know better than your neigh¬
bor you are bound to give him your
advice. Instead, you conceal your
knowledge to win from his ignorance,
hence come all sorts of concealments.
dodges, deceits—I say the devil is the
only father of it. I'm sure, moreover,
that the head master would object se
riously to anything like a lottery, bet¬
ting or gambling.
Diving With Christ.
A daily walking with Christ is the
I 8<du S( ctJrity of the Christian. lie
mUSt bc 8euu and idealized h y t!l *
i oftaith
as a present teacher and guide,
^ hiS liwia e m aod wlth Christ is some
j thlD ? mUch h, S herthan carrying a con
! vclltlonal lch S lon vvh,ch is evei ' ready
' t0 cordor,n to the TVorld in its pleasures,
arausements ami fashions. If you
want manly independence, genuine
enthusiasm of life, a sense of inward
strength, positive convictions, unwea
ried loyalty, delight in his service,keep
Christ uppermost in your heart. The
religion which the world needs most
and for which the Church constantly
prays, is not a religion of dead forms
and superstitious customs, hut one that
will shine, and speak, and act, from j
the heart in which Christ is being |
formed as the hope of present comfort
and of future glory.
- - ------ -
A rocky place—The nursery. I
Drunkenness.
The Annapolis Gazette of a recent
date sa\s;
A dear lady friend has handed us
the following heart-rending account of
U,e evil of drunkennesa as witnessed by
the Rev. Dr. Guthrie, with the t.‘quest
,0 P l,V>lish - H a PP eals 10 thc b « Ut ' r
r ° ellr, S 3 ot every falher, mother, sister,
;ll ‘ * hiotiier, and should atotise c\ety
n,ai1 am ' lV0,uau *° ntako an efloit to
destroy the dram shops that are ‘mak¬
ing the purse poor to enrich the nose/
and destroying the peace, happiness
and lives of our citizens. Let our peo¬
ple but seriously reflect upon how many
casks of virtue's poison are dribbling
out their base and poisonous contents
in our own city, and then surely they
will resolve to be henceforth a ‘Dash
away/ and forever to abstain from the
use ol the bane that ‘steals away the
brains/ and produces want and misery,
and transforms man into a beast:
'I have heard the wail of children
for bread, and have seen the b ibe pull
ing at breasts as dry as if the starved
mother was dead. I have known a
father to turn a step-daughter into the
streets at night, bidding the sobbing
girl, who bloomed into womanhood, to
earn her bread there as others were
doing. I have bent over the foul pal¬
let ot a dying lad, to hear him whisper
that his father and mother, who were
sitting half drunk by the fireside, had
pulled the blankets off his body to sell
for drink. I have seen trie children
blanched like plants growing in a col¬
lar—for weeks they never breathe a
mouthful of fresh air—for the want of
rags to cover their nakedness; and
they live in continual terror of a drunk¬
en father or mother coming homo to
beat them I do not recollect ever
seeing a mother in the wretched dwel¬
lings handling her infant, or hearing
the little one crow or laugh. These are
some of drink's doings, but nobody
can know the misery I suffered amid
those scenes of wretchedness, woe,
want anu sin.'
---*.♦.-—
Revenge in Italy.
Two Englishmen, wandering in a
boat in the suburbs of Venice, saw an
object in the watersurrouuded by birds.
They found it to be a man, yet alive,
Hia arms aad ] 0g8 wcre broken and
tied, and in order that lie might not
aink ' a p Arge demijohn ot glass was
atta he d to each shoulder, which sus
Gained the head and neck above water.
cou pj not speak, his tongue hung
from his mouth. His eyes had been
p ecko( j out by the birds. The murder
i t ^^maschotFi •' *'........
.... ..hviill
WB '£* * — m» AtifcA U1C&
and his two brothers.
had a handsome and irreproacable
and a daughter of eight years. Tetal
Jj, the murdered man, was employed
by him and weli treated; but becom¬
ing enamored of Mine, Farm ischetti,
he annoyed her to such a degree that
her husband beat him and drove him
from his house. Several days’ after
Pannaschetti started at midnight with
a load of garden prsduce for Venice
His wife was soon awakened by steps
in her room. Her door was locked,
but Tetaldo had entered by the win¬
dow, and lie stoo I before her, knife in
hand. He threatened death it sue call
ed for help, hut she defended lie,self
bravely. In the meantime her daugli
ter, unperceived by Tetaldo, had crept
under the bed, and was a witness to
the scene. Mine. Pannaschetti ran
roond a table, and several rimes esca
ped from Tefal do's grasp. But he
stabbed her, and she fell in a dying
condition. Day began to dawn, and
Tetaldo fled. The child then alarmed
the neighbors, who, on reaching the
house, found the woman dead, with
thirty-two wounds upon her body.—
Ou the return of Pannaschetti, him¬
self and brothers sought Tetaldo, and
found him Pannaschetti plunged a
pitchfork three tunes into his breast
and held him pinned, while fris brothers
broke IPs arms and legs with an iron
bar. Parmaschetti intended (hen to
bom him, but a brother proposed that
he should be floated upon the Adriatic,
that the birds and fishes might eat him
alive. This was done. The three bro
thers were condemned to ten years of
imprisonment with hard labor, but a
petition to the king was extensively
signed in Veniee, asking for their com
plcte pardon,
Keep the ton - ue h ' om ,,ukindne8 *
^ ord8 are sometimes wounds; not very
dee P rounds always, ami yet they ir
ritatate. Speech is unkind sometimes
when there is no unkindness in the
heart. So much the worse that necd
less wounds are infleted; so much the
worse that unintentionally pain is
caused.
NO. S.
HUMORl
Sr
■
i
Every country church has its stare
way.
I ho lorn buy is the American ho
gal.
An cx spurt—A dilpidated public
fountain.
Crash in the dry goods business—
towels.
The business ot rag gathering is
picking up.
To ask a man to pay a bill is as easi¬
ly said as dun.
Did you ever see the Maid of Greece
made of grease?
—--^ -
An editor's chair is like a back tooth
—hard to fill.
The sky, unlike man, is most cheer¬
ful when bluest.
Song of the dry goods clerk—Swing¬
ing in delaine.
Afire alarm—an;orthodox sermon
on the hereafter.
. ------ -
A profane upstart—The man who
sits down on a bent pin.
Tal mage says smoking leads to drinks
ing—so docs a salt codfish.
A cold in the head is generally ob
tained by the contract system.
Whisky is about the only enemy
man lias succeeded in loving.
A shoemaker advertises ‘medicinal
boots/ The virtue is in the heel.
To remove paint from doorposts—
back up against it when it is fresh.
A waste of money—To put a ten
dollar hat on a dime’s worth of trains.
Ode to a five hundred dollar seal skin
coat—-Thou ait so dear and yet so fur.
The man who pays in advance ean
not be trusted. Let this lie a warning.
Hunger has driven many a man to
crime, but more men to the lunch
counter.
There is no better anti-fat remedy
than whisky. It will make a man lean
io a short time.
j The extreme coldness between Cain
l the hrbt case Qt
and Abel gave rise to
Weighing on record.
The general depression in trade
seems to affect even the days, They
are very short just now.
If a man could live by the sweat of
j brew, his living would come much
eas i er in hot weather.
j __ m _
Lawyers are nevermore earnest than
when they work with a will—that is, if
the estate is valuable.
The paragrapher who was banged,
sa ^ to the crowd around the gallows,
‘this is but a homp t»e show/
. Ciln an editor onto the kin*d. m ot
heaveu?'asks the Elmira Gazette—
Perhaps so, if he is given passes.
--
A ver y humble man sometimes be
comes awfully stuck up, as for instance,
w hen he spiffs a bottle of mueffage
over bis coat,
A man was boasting that he had an
elevator in his house. ‘So lie has,'
| said his wife, ‘and he ke<pj it in the
cupboard in a bottle/
If there was anything practical in
spiritualism, Stewart could give the
policeman a rap and some information
concerning the disposition of his bones,
‘The Sioux are not contagious/ said
an old frontiersman. ‘What do you
mean?' asked a bystander. ‘I mean
that they art* hard to catch/ was tire
reply.
‘Jane/ said her father, ‘I thought
you hated stingy people, and yot your
young man —. <v ^ ! y> p a who said
»
he is stingy!, ‘Oh, nobody,’ replid pa,
‘yt'ly I could see he was a little close,
as I passed through the room/
What to him was love or hope? What
to him was joy or care? lie stepped
on a plug of Irish soap the girl had
left ou the topmost stair, and his feet
flew out like wild, fierce things, and he
struck each stair with a sound like a
drum, and the girl below with the
scrubbing things, laughed like a fiend.
to see him come: