Newspaper Page Text
VOLUME VII.
M m
ft Vo
■ m 'IPV**
Pft
ONLY A NEWSPAPER MAN.
IV'enre nobody then; it is curious!
Only the slave of the pen!
The }4ace where we designate “sanctum”
Is the lair of a Ijeast, or a den.
Oar work any one eonld accomplish?
Just try it, dear sir, if you can,
You'll find that in one thing you’re lacking—
’ fis the snap «f a newspaper man!
I ve stood in the parvenu’s parlors.
Where wealth to the eye is unrolled—
Where maukind is put on the balance
And weighed by the standard of gold;
And creatures of beauty and fashion,
Whose life is a frivolous span,
Drew aside as if there were contagion
Iu the touch of a newspaper man!
Anil I Iho’t: Are niv haafk red with murder?
Do I merit the nignet of Cain?
N\v: surely I must bo u leper,
All marked with the hideous stain!
Hut, not there are more potent reasons
For putting me under the ban;
The sneer aud tho look say i’lia only—
Only a newspaper man*
la it wroun to use paper and scissor*?
Is it crime to get broad by the pen?
Would intellect shine like a diamond
li newspapers never had beeu?
The a an who absconds with a million
Is goon welcomed back from Japau,
While lie whose page sparkles with beauty
J lnouly a newspaper man!
I'm proud of my rail* nuil my station,
As !i monardi Ls proud of hi* throne;
I've kindred iu every nation,
And brethren in every zone,
The high, the rich, and the haughty—•
Deny it to-day if you cau —
Will fawn for the sake of a “notice"
At the feet of a newspaper man.
I wonder, sometimes, it my sanctum,
When iiloue with the word of the day,
If we bivvo a fight to that haven,
Beautiful, bright, fur away.
Will the angels who stund at the portals,
To welcome whoever they can,
Turn aside when they *.ee us, aud whisper,
“He’s only a newspaper man!”
MISCELLANY.
US H> ;
OH,
I li o ui m a’s Ujft.
1'red was a stray dog whose origin
i ami whose name even were shrouded
j in mystery. In 1861 he had landed in
Yokohama from an English tea-clipper,
I in the company oi a melancholy trav
I eler. Nobody, of course, took any no¬
tice of the dog at the time, and he, ou
In’s part, avoided all familiarity with
| strangers, having apparently, eyes
aml ears only for his master, whom he
[ followed everywhere.
This master, Mr. Alexander Young,
1 was a rather mysterious character.—
| Nobody knew whence he came or
whither he was bound The captain
of the Georgina had made his acquaint
ance in Java, and had given him pas
Mge on very moderate terms. During
thevoyage, Alexander Young—or San
as lie was commonly called—spoke
very little and drank a good deal.—
The captain, who, when at sea, made
it a rule never to take anything stron
than water, was not at all disin
dined, when on shore, to indulge iu
an extra bottle or so. In consequence
he treated the weakness of his com
panion with compassionate fellow-feel
i n g. and even on that account, a sort
of sympathy for him, which showed
it«elf iinnany l.ttle acts of kindnesses,
?andy was very grateful, and in his
dreamy blue eyes there was a ten.
u *r and friendly expression whenever
they rested on the rugged, weather
heaten features of the captain.
Fred was Sandy's constant compan
lon , and the dog's nose was uever
man y ioches distant from his master’s
*‘ ee ls.
Fred is a curious name for a dog/
8, ‘id the captain ; ‘why did you call him
80 ?’
Sandy was silent for fully a minute,
ail( l then answered slowly, ‘because
^ wag a present fiom cousin Lou
«•»/ ray
The captain was much impressed
h thi* unexpected explanation hut
^ ( himself ;
-o Has accustomed to clothe
sH r ,j 8 j„ most enigmatical language
I In a ^° no doubt that
, * f deep Sandy's reply
* 8oni c hidden meaning ; and
^ he made indulging many in efforts indiscreet solve ques- the
Pioblcxn to
Sand unaided. Fiom that time
y rose in his estimation Neither
Sii , \ ° r * ^
e evtr re err ed to the sub
J loft but Whcn
: wa» > at a later period, the
asked why Mr,
-—\
dog was called ‘Fred,’ he answered,
authoritatively :
‘Because the dog was a present from
his cousin Louisa.
Fred was a thorough-bred bull-ter
iier # snow-white, with one round black
spot over his left eve. Ilis fore-legs
were bowed, his chest was broad and
powerful, his head broad and flat as
a frog's. His jaws were armed with
a set of short, uneven, sharp leeth^
which seemed strong enough to crunch
a bar of iron. His eyes were set oh
liquely in his head, Chinese fashion ;
nevertheless there was an honest and
trustworthy expiession in them. One
could see that Fred, though he was a
dangerous was not a savage or wicked
beast.
Fred e <uld smile in bis grim way,
if his master showed him a bone and
said smile, ‘Smile !’ But, as a rule he
was as grave and serious as Young
himself. He was no bully or street
fighter. Confident of his own strength
he looked with com tempt upon all the
small curs who barked and yelped at
him. But it a large dog, a worthy ad
versary, attacked him, he fought with
mute, merciless fury. He neither bark¬
ed or growled on such occasions, but
Uie deep, quick breathing under which
his broad eliest heaved, betrayed his
inward f.ury. His green eyes shone
like emeralds, and he fastened his fangs
into his enemy with such mad violence
that it was a matter of great difficulty
to m ike him loose his hold.
During six months Sandy and Fred
led a quiet life at Yokohama. Sandy'
was known, it *s true, to consume iu
private an incredible amount of spirits,
but in pubke his behaviour was unex¬
ceptional/e, and no one had ever seen
him intoxicated A few days after his
arrival lie had bought one of the rough,
ugly little ponies of the country. Those
who, for some reason or other, strayed
from the beaten paths usually frequent¬
ed by foreign residents at Yokohama*
declared that they had met Young, the
pony au 1 Fred in the most unlooked
for places The lonely rider, the horse
and the dog appeared, they said,
equally lost in deep reverie. Young
s m o k e d, the po-y, wiili the
reins hanging loose on i s neck walked
t
with ins head down, as though it were
studying the road of which his master
took no heed ; while Fred followed
close behind, with his dreamy, half
closed eyes fixed on the horse’s hoofs.
^cung never addressed anybody, but
returned every salutation politely, and
so to 4 spi‘uk, gracefully. The Europe¬
ans at Yokohama wondered at their
fellow-exile, and the Japanese called
him kitchinyay —crazy.
Young rarely remained in town
w hen the weather was fine. He would j
hmve the settlement in the early morn
w ’th his two fourfonted companions
and not return from his ride till dusk,
Dut if it rained and blew hard, one
might be sure to find him on the bund
—the street which leads from the Euro
P^an quarter to the harbor. On such
occasions Sandy, with his hands behind
his back, walked slowly up and down
tile broad with Fred at Lis heels, as
U8U: ‘l 5 though it was evident that the
P 001 ' drenched animal did not share his
master's enjoyment of bad weather.—
intervals Sandy would stop iu his
walk and watch with apparent interest
the boisterous sea and the vessels that
tossed upon it. Whenever this hap
P en cd Fred immediately sat upon his
haunches and fixed Ins blinking eyes
on his master's countenance as though
he were trying to discover some indi
cations that he was going to exchange
the impaassible street tor the eomfor
table shelter of his lodgings. II Young
stayed too long, Fred would push him
gently with his nose as if to wake him
out of "his day dream. Sandy would
t,le,r move on again; but ho uever
went home till the storm abated or
night set in. This strange, aimless
walking up and down gave him the
appearance of a man who lias missed
his railway train, and who, at some
strange, un nteresting station, seeks
to while away the time till the next
departure.
Young must have brought some
money with him to Yokohama, for he
lived on for several weeks without seek
ing employment, At the end of that
time, however, he advertised iu the
Japan Times to the effect that he had
set up in business as public account
ant. Iu this capacity he soon found
employment. He was a steady con¬
scientious worker, rather slow at his
work, and evidently not caring to earn
more than was required for his wants.
In this way he became acquainted with
Mr James Webster, the bead of an
important American firm, who, aftei
era ploying Young several t-i^es, at last
EAST&AX, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 27, 187/1,
offered him an excellent situation as
assistant bookkeeper in his house.—
This Sandy declined with many
thanks.
‘I do not know how r loag I may re**
main out here/ he said. ‘I expect let
ters from home which may oblige me
to leave at once,
Those letters never came, and San
dy grew paler every day. One even
ing he went to call on James Webster.
A visit from Sandy Young was such an
unusual occurrence that Webster, who
as a rule did not like to be disturbed,
came forward to greet hi* visitor.—
But Sandy would not come in , he re
tnained at the entrance leaning against
the door, His speech and manner
were calm and even careless, and Web
srer was consequently somewhat sur
prised to learn that tie had come to
take leave,
‘Sit down, man/ said Webster ‘and
take a biandy-and-soda and a che
root/
‘No, thank you/ replied Young. ‘1
leave early to-morrow morning''; and
I have only just time to get things
ready,
/So you are really going away?'
said Webster. Well I am sorry you
would not stay with us. As it is, lean
only wish you good luck and a pros
perous voyage.
He Belli out his hand, which Young
pressed so warmly that Webster look
ed him wih some surprise, and as he
looked it seemed to him that there was
moisture in Sandy Young's eyes.
‘Why don't you stay V continued
Webster, who felt a curious interest in
the sad, silent man.
‘The plac*i I offered you the other
day as still vacant.’
Young remained silent for a few
minutes. Then he shook his lkead and
said :
'No, thanks. You are very kind,
but I had better go. What should I
do here ? Japan is a fine countiy, but
it is so very email—always the same
blue sea, the same white Fussyama,
and the same people riding the same
horses and followed by the same dogs.
I am tired of it all. You must admit,
Mr. Webster, that life is not highly
amusing out here.'
There was a short pause, after which
0,1 bandy resumed, , . but _ speaking
more
slowly and in still lower tones :
I think there must be a typhoon iu
the air ; I feel so weary. I do not
think Mr. We hater that you can ever
have felt as weary as I do. 1 thougiit
we were going to have a storm this
morning. It would perhaps have done
me good. This has been a very close,
heavy day. Well, good-night I did
not like to leave Yokohama without
bidding you good-bye, and thanking
you for all your friendliness.'
He moved away with hesitating
steps, and when lie had gone a few
paces he turned around and wared his
hand to Webster, who was following
him with his eyes,
‘I thank you again, Mr. Webster/
he repeated, with almost pathetic earn
estness. ‘I wish you a very good
night.
And so he disappeared into the dark
ness.
That night a terrible storm burst
over Yokohama, but it came too late
to revive poor weary Sandy. He
was found dead in his bedroom the
next morning, having hanged himself
during the night. On the table lava
large sheet of paper with the following
words, vviitten in a bold hand,—
‘Please take care of Fred.'
Nothing was found in Sandy's trunk
but some shabby clothes and a bundle
of old letters which had evidently been
read over and over again. They were
without envelope*, dated from Lim¬
erick, 1855 and 1856, and merely sign¬
ed, “Louis.’ 4 They were examined
carefully in the hope that they might
furnish some clue to Sandy's parentage
and counections ; but they were love
letters—mere love-letters—and con
tained nothing that could interest any
one but poor Sandy himself. There
was frequent mention of a father and
a mother in these letters, and it was
very clear that they had not been fa¬
vorable to the lovers, but who this fa¬
ther aud mother were did not appear.
Oiher persons wefe mentioned, as
Charles, Edward, Mary and Florence,
but their Christian names only were
given. In the last letters of October,
November, and December, 1856, there
was constant reference to a certain
Frederick Milner, a friend of Sandy’s*
whom he had apparently introduced to
his cousin and lady-love. In the first
of these letters, Lou;sa wrote that her
mother was much pleased with Mr.
Milner, who was a most agreeable and
charming companion. In thq course
of time Mr. Milner became ‘Fre lerick
Milner,’ then 'Fred Milner/ ‘F.
and at last he was simply ‘Fred.—
Fred had accompanied Louisa and her
moth r to Dublin, where they had all
been much amused. Fred was a capi
tal rider and at the last meet he had
#
taken the big stone wall at the back
of Hrachan Park, in a style which had
excited the admiration of all present.—
Fred accompanied Louisa frequently
on horseback, and she had never had
such cap tal riding-lessons as from
him; he understood horses better than
anybody^ and that ill tampered ‘Black
bird/ tnat Sandy had never dared to
ride, was as gentle as a la.rib with
Fred. At the last athletic sports got
ten up by the officers of the 19th, Fred
had thrown the hammer farther than
anybody, and would have certainly
won the foot-hurdle race likewise, had
he not have fallen at the last hurdle.—
Fred had a beautiful voice ; Fred
danced well ; Fred here, Fred there,
Fred everywhere. In t lie last letter
it was said how “poor Fred had fallen
with Blackbird at the last steeplechase
and had broken his collarbone. Yet
he did not give up the race, and came
in third. Mother had insisted on his
remaining here to be nursed by us till
he gets well. He sends his best love
and will write as soon as he is able.
These letters were sealed up and
deposited in the archives of the British
consulate at Yokohama. Inquiry' was
made officially at Limerick whether u
Mr. Alexander Young and a Mr.
Frederick Milner had been known in
that place in 1855 and 1856. In tho
course of time the reply came, but
brought no satisfactory answers to
the questions. Alexander Young was
quite unknown. A young man named
Frederick Milner had lived in Limerick
at the date mentioned. After bringing
shame upou an honored family, he
had left the town in secret and had
never been heard of since,
As Alexander Young left no proper
ty of any value, no further inquiries
was made, and lie was s»on forgotten
He was buried very quietly, and James
Webster, the constable of the English
consulate, and Fred alone accompanied
him to the grave.
After the funeral the dog returned
to , -\r Yokohama. i i for ri several .j days
searched anxiously for his master in
His old lodgings and near the new
made grave ; but he soon became con
vinced of the fruitlessness of his en *
dearors, and thenceforward became,
as a Californian ca’led, “an institutio n
°l Yokohama."
Sandy’s last wish, ‘Please take
of Fred/ was faithfully attended
Many of the residents of
showed themselves ready to adopt
good dog ; but Fred did not seem iu
dined to acknowledge a new
and testified little gratitude tor the
caresses besto wad on him. Revisited
first one arid then another of his nu
merons patrons, and did not object
accompany any of them in turn du r
mg a walk or a ride ; but uo oue coul d
boast that Fred was his dog.
His favorite resort was the club,
where, in the evening, all of his friends
met, and where he usually remained
till the last,guest left. Then he took
up quarters with one or other of his
friends, and hospitality was readily
extended to him, for he was both watch
ful and well-behaved,
, A year had thus gone by, when the
Georgina once more arrived in Yoko¬
hama. The captain walking in the
bund one day recognized “his former
passenger, Fred, and called to the dog.
Fred snuffed at him deliberately, drop¬
ped his head, and appeared for a few
minutes to meditate profoundly. But
suddenij* he showed the wildest de¬
light, leaped up a’ the captain and
licked his hands, barking and smiling,
then started down the street at full
speed, and at last returned to take his
old place at the heels of his new mas*
ter. The captain^ we have said, was a
philosopher ; he accepter! the adoption
as a decree of fate, to which he bowed
snbmissively.
One evening not long after this, the
captain was attacked by a party of
drunken Japanese officers. Fred sprang
at the throat of one of the assailant*
and would have strangled him if an
other of the Japanese had not cut him
down with a stroke of the sword. The
captain escaped with a slight wound
and took refuge in a club, from which
he soon sallied forth with a party of
friends to give chase to his loes and
try to save his dog. But his bravo
friend and defender was dead. He was
buried in the yard of the club house
ol Yokohama, where a stone with the
the inscription, place where ‘‘Fred, 186V still marks
poor Sandy’s laithlul j
companion lies. 1
“VY YAS DAT ?”
A Good Dutch Story,
Let me tell you a good Dutch story
right herc^ because 1 - comes irom a
Dutchman in the easttrn part of inn
s>lv»nia and must be a true story.—
The Dutchman was never ashamed of
his religion. In his neighborhood was
u skeptic, who said :
‘You can’t believe anything yon can¬
not understand/
Some of the people asked the Dutch¬
man if he would not have a conversa¬
tion with him. He said:
‘Yes. if you tink best.
‘Have you any objection to the
neighbors coming in ?'
'No, sliest as you tink best/
So they made the appointment, and
everybody was there The old gentle¬
man came in, and laid by his hat, and
was introduced to the skeptic, and he
began suddenly by saying:
‘Well ! now, look here, 1 pleefs the
Bible—what you pleefs V
Said he :
‘I don’t believe anything I can't un¬
derstand '
‘Oh, you must be one very smart
man. I was mighty glad to meet you.
I ask ~ou some questions. The other
day I vas riding along de road and 1
neet von dog; and the dog he had
von of his ears stand up in this way,
and the other von he stand dun so.—
Now, vy was dat ?’
Now that was very unhandy just
then, very unhandy. He either had to
prove that the dog did not have one oar
standing up and the other standing
down, or else say he did not believe it.
So be said :
4 I don’t know/
‘•Oh. then you are not so very smart
after all. I ask you anoder question.—
I saw in John Smith's clover patch the
clover come up so nice, and I looked
over into the fields, and there was
John Smith’s pigs ; aud dere come out
hair on dere packs; and in the very
saime clover patch was Ins sheep, and
d ?re came out wool on dere packs.—
Now vy was dal V
Now that was as bad as the other,
because the same perplexity arose.—
He had to prove there was wool on
the back of the pig, r or hair on the
the s eep ; and he couldn t
j 1 e,e ^ t ' e had no us
lueSft to t leve it. ma y c sai .
‘I don't know/
‘Well, you are not half so smart as
you tink you are. Now I ask you
anoder question :
'Do you pleef there is a God V
‘No, I don’t believe any such non*
sense/
‘Oh, yes ! I hear about you long ago.
I know all about yon. My Bible knows
all about you, for in my Bible He
says:
‘The fool says in hi * heart there is
no God/but you, big fool, you blab it
right out/
A Splendid Wife
We once knew a irran who was al¬
ways praising his wife.
On the corner,, down the street, at
the post-office; at the theatre, in the
sal—that is, tje dioir meeting, he was
adwaya telling what a happy man he
w T as, just because he bad suds a spletr
diil wife, audi ha* talked every IUnll tft
to a Jrenzy ®f envy about her..
Wtdl, o?se winter morning, when iU
was no't yet toe light to make one ap¬
pear ov er unostentatious, we sneaked
into that neighbor's yard to steal a
board for kindling,, and had to wait
until that man’s wife came out and
sawed a couple of airmsfal of rrood
shoveled }
out three snow paths fed
and groomed f
the horse, and cleaned
out the cow shed ; ami when she went
into the house, and we heard her call
to her husband that the sitting room
was warm enough for him to dress in
if he wanted to get up, it so amazed
us that we forgot what we were wait*
ing for, and went back and kindled the
fire with a corn-cob and a pint of ker¬
osene.
Girls are advised by a Chicago physi¬
cian to always sleep on their backs if
th?y wish to keep crow's feet from the
corners of their eyes. These blemishes,
he says, arc the result of sleeping on
their sides. Tho pressure upon the
temple and cheeks leaves wrinkles at
the corners and underneath the eyes
which disappear in a few hours, but
finally become so fixed that neither
hours nor abl ”tions will abate them.
At a recent election in Wyoming
territory, in which women suffrage
P reVii, H, a fellow running for town
clerk bribed eighteen female voters
with a jingle pound of chewing g uin.
Trwiw live Boys lor Business,
There fe onb element iri Vie home
instrttclio:* of bCVs to which, say.f a
Boston paper, t«K> Ihlfle attention has
been given, that*of the cultivation
of habits of pr?nfile**Hty, system, order
and responsibility tfoe masiy lease¬
holds boys from twelve to' seventeen
years are too much admifttstefed to by
loving mothers or other ferowlc mem
lx*rs of the family. Boys' live ^during
those years are halcyon days of their
existence. Uo in the morning just, irt
season for breakfast, nothing to do
but start off’ early enough not to be
late; looking upon an errand as taking
so much time and memory away from
enjoyment; little thought of personal
appearance except when reminded by
his mother to‘spruce up* a little; find¬
ing his wardrobe alway* where moth¬
er puts it—in fact, Hiving nothing to
do but enjoy himself.
Tims his life g#e» until school etxls.
Then he is ready for business. lie
^oes into an office where everything is
system, order, precision. He is expect¬
ed to keep things neat and orderly,
sometimes kindle fires, file letters, do
errands—in short, become a part of a
nicely regulated machine, where every¬
thing moves in systematic groove»;»nd
each one is responsible for correctness
jn his department, and where, in plac«r
of ministers to his comfort, he finds
task masters, more or lenient, to be
sure, and everything in marked con¬
trast to his previous life.
In many instances the change is too
great. Errors become numcn.us; blun¬
der*, overlooked at first, get to be a
matter of serious moment; then pa¬
tience is overtasked, and the boy is
told his services are no longer wanted.
This is his first blow, and sometimes
he never rallies from it. Then comes
the surprise to the parents, who too
often never know the real cause, nor
where they have failed in training of
their children.
What is wanted is for every boy to
have something special to do; to have
some duty at a definite hour, and to
learn to watch for that time to come;
to be answerable for a certain portion
of the routine of the household: to be
trained to anticipate the time when lie
may enter the ranks of business, and
be fortified with habits of energy, ac¬
curacy, and application, often of more
importance than superficial book learn¬
ing.
A Peddler’s Pack.
He was was a civil fellow, and be¬
stowed considerable time on his cus¬
tomer, a woman very hard to please.
After examining bis goods she coolly
observed that she had made her pur¬
chases tlx? week before and *only r wan¬
ted to see if them dry goods men h*d
cheated me.‘ With commendable good
nature the disappointed fellow repack¬
ed his goods and went his way. A
month oi- so passed, and once more he
kuocketl at tlie same farmer^ door,
this time not to sell, but to buy. ‘Can
you get me up a first class dinner?' be
asked. ‘Something good; I've got
money, and I want to see your verv
best/ The woman bustled around at
a iively rate, the vision of a good fee
for the meal lending alacrity to her
movements, and presently she returned
to the room where the peddler was
waiting, amd announced that dinner
was ready. After examining the vi¬
ands critically^ lie said composedly:—
‘1 don't want anything; ljust paid for
mv dinner at the hotter below and I
r>
thought I'd find out whether t* )e y
cheated me. 4 And then he vanished.
Grains of Gold.
A curt answer has two edges.
The doctor's memory is apt to fail.
None are oversticked with patienep.
The right must sometimes yield or
fight.
Death lias nothing terrible in it but
what life has made so.
Censure is the tax a man pays the
public for being eminent.
The man lacks moral courage who
treats when he should retreat.
Motives are like harlequins—there is
always a second dress beneath the
first.
Make a man thiuk ho is more cuu
ning thau you, and you can easily out¬
wit him.
If you would render you children
helpless, never compel or permit them
to help themselves.
Never reflect on a past action which
was done with a good motive and the
best judgment at the time.
Absence destroys small passions and
increases great oues, as wind blows
out tapers and kindles firei*
NO. ft.
IT humor/*
■ -
SsyBt
Do you really, truly love me.
More than auy s^iri you know?
Well, tbeu, bnH nie just u little.
If you must, nn go.
Fold your arms .inmnd’ me tighter,
Have you never hugged before?
Draw roe nearer, draw uie closer;
Can't you hug me any more?
Keignkig favorites—Umbrellas.
Excellent wash C>r the face—Water.
A bad thing to' sharpen—The wa¬
ter's edge.
... ....... .. -*m • mm -*-
If a small boy is a hvd y is a large
boy a ladder?
The convict’s serenade to tin? war¬
den: IIow can I leave thee?
Brown thinks that all-absorbing tales
should be printed on blotting paper.
The onion originated in Europe.—
So important facts leak or.t one by
one*.
If a word spoken m time is worth
one piece of money, silence in its tvm*
is worth two.
Dr. Holmes says that crying widows
marry first. There is nothing like wet
weather for transplanting!
Why dots the new moon remind one
of a giddy girl? Because she is too
young to show much reflection.
Give us liberty—to hang over front
gates with the girls, or death—by loss
of sleep on the parlor serfa.
A sociable man. is one wlu .when lie
hasten minutes to spagoes and
bothers somebody who ha^/t.
It is just as easy to. collect a back
subscription as it is . tt>-— to—set typo
with a pair ot leatKen mittens on.
There are too many women ,walkists,
and too many kilb washtubs. At na¬
tional washing match rnigki wiry tho
monotony.
The latest ren Jirtgrsof the proverb is:
People wbodivo io gPass- houses, and
who wants, tb put their awns around
the girV should pudi dowiii the blinds.
walked the floor alt night with tho
toothache/ he said. To which his un¬
feeling listener replied: ‘Yon didn’t ex¬
pect to walk the ceiling with it did
you?'
The very latest euri"sity spoken of
ift Die papers is a wheel that came off
% dog's tail when it was a waggin'.
The /nan who discovered it has retired
from public life.
'Madarn/ said the. c look maker, ‘you
must bring me your clock/ ‘Oh, no!'
said the old lady, ‘the clock is all right;
it’s only what you call the pendulum
that won't go.'
Mr. lie up said to a drunken fellow;
‘1/ I were in your place, I would go
out to the woods and hang myself.’
The answer was, 'If yooz in rav plaish
you couldn't get there.'
The dass i» grammar will please
stand up and answer this question:—
'IIow do you* parse the word dollar?'
’Please, sir, if it5* a trade dollar you }
parse it for ninety cents.!
‘Could you tell me, sir, which is the
other side of the street?' On being
told that it was over the way^ the tight
one siid, ‘That's what I said; but a
fellow over there .sent me over here.'
Samantha Jane writes to inquire:—
NV hat is it a sign of to see a young m an
chewing doves? That he has a few
faint, lingering sparks of self-r°spect
le.'t among the embers of a once noble
nature.
No man can know all things^ but
there are lots of men who think they
do. They are the fellows who give an
editor so ranch valuable information
as to how to run a newspaper—into
the ground.
Just while we think about it, why
didn’t the individual who invented
button-holes get up something equally
durable to fit into them? We have
yet to run across the first button that.
would hold out with half tho persis-