Newspaper Page Text
VOLUME VII.
the school of life.
BY OEOBOE W. BTJRWEIX.
As I sit beside my window,
This calm and pleasant day,
I can hear the bum of voices
In the school-room over the way.
The sound transports me back agaiu
To the happy daj s of yor6 ;
I see the old stone school-house,
And climb the hill once more.
I to pause within the door,
Anil voices that I hear
Call back the dying memories
Of many a by-gone year.
The busy hum has ceased
At the tipping of the bell,
And now they tune their voices
To the organ’s gentle swell.
But hark'. ’tw from over the way
I hear tho gentle strain ;
The dry-dream now is over,
And “Richard is himself again.”
Yet 1 will write of piesent tirre
And of days that are to come,
When our work on earth is ended,
That Christ may say “Well done.”
Wc arc still at school, though older,
The trying school of life ;
Experience is the teacher’s name,
The house a world of strife.
Its lessons are severer,
Much harder to control,
Refining for eternity
Our never-dying soul.
Tho merchant in his counting-room,
The honest tiller of tho soil,
The rich man and the beggar,
The mechanic at his toil,
Have each to learn life’s lesson,
For all must graduate,
When time and death shall close,
And shut the book of fate.
The next scene is the opening ;
Each student then will know
If he has learned life’s lesson well
In the school-room here below.
Then let us strive to merit
The reward that will be given ;
For God lias said if we faithful prove
We shall have a home in lieaveo.
MISCELLANY.
Here and There a Gem.
Every saint is God's temple, and he
who carries his temple about him may
goto prayer when he pleases.— Austin ,
The diamond fallen into the dirt is
not the less precious, and the dust
raised by high winds to Heaven is not
thejess vile .—Persian Proverb.
It is never worth while to make
rents in a garment for the sake of
mending them, nor to create doubts in
order to show how clevei ly we can
quiet them.— Spurgeon.
M isdom is better than riches. Wis¬
dom guards thee, but thou must guard
tky riches. Riches diminish in the
using; but wisdom increases in the
use of it .—Arabic Proverb.
If you would relish food, labor for
it before you take it; if enjoy clothing,
P a y tor it before you wear it; if you
would sleep soundly, take a clear oou
science to bed with you.— Franklin.
M hoover sincerely endeavors to do
ft! the good lie can will probably do
much more than he imagines, or will
o\cr know to the Day of Judgment,
when the secrets of all hearts shall be
mauifest.
lie who cannot find time to consult
Us Bible will one day find he has time
te be sick ; he who has no time to pray
must fi‘ K l time to die ; he who can find
110 time to reflect is most likely to sin ;
be who cannot find time for repent
a!1C0 will find an eternity in which re
pentance will be of no avail ; he who
Ctinn ot find time to work for others
Illa yfind an eternity in which to suffer
1°' himself.— Hannah Moore
.
Arc angels mv attcnd-nit. ? Then I
Aould walk worthv ^ nf mv y c 1 1 1 ‘
g J; h; n A T \ 80 and dwe11
*°° n ”°
, y eh , J Then 1 T sWlld bG P ure ’
t p
'court T„ ect 80 8 °"" t0 trcadthe
nso,„ eavcn? Is thi8 tong „. so
‘ on unite with Heavenly being in
“onto :;U, look G b 0d? on the , Ave throne , those of eternal “
glory and „„ the ascended Redeemer ?
- le(!t ™d eyes and lips
*>! d " Pme and holy, and I should
r° tM ’ ami ' ive f01
Parties.
Vve never heard of cordage get
tlD K drunk, but you've all heard of
tight a
rope
V i y?:( & >4 J
( t J \
ONLY A CLERK ;
CR,
FORCED TO EAT HUMBLE PIE,
Only think of it ! A clerk ! A
saleswoman . It seems to me I'd
have worked my fingers to the bone
in some otner way before I would
come to that, said Lizzie Doyle, going
to the min 01 and i eadjusting a $20
hat.
‘So would I. But, then, wliat
could she do ?’
'At least she might have made her¬
self a little less public If there's
anything 1 despise it’s these saleswo¬
men.’
‘So do I. Ilow much better it would
have been to have gone into dress¬
making or millinery or something of
that sort. But to stand behind the
counter like a man !'
‘Papa always did like those Stan¬
leys/ said Lizzie Doyle, petulantly,
‘Yes, we all liked them well enough
until Mr. Stanley failed, didn't we ?’
‘No, not I, for one. Laura was al¬
ways so independent in her notions.
Don't you remember how hard she
studied at school ? It does seem as if
she foresaw her father's failure.'
‘I wonder she didn't fry some bet¬
ter position, then. She is certainly
capable of being something better
than a shop-girl.'
'Oh, I believe papa intends to pro¬
mote her when Mr. Jobley goes West.
Siio will then take Mr. Jobley’s place
as junior book-keeper. Think of that
for a woman 1'
‘That would be better than selling
goods. I don't see liovv s!io> can do
that with her refined tastes. Why
don’t she give lessons, I wonder ? It
might not bring her in quite so much
money, but it would be a deal nicer.*
'Yes ; and then we could recognize
heiy" said Lizzie Doyle.
‘That’s what I was coming to/ was
the reply of her companion, a small,
sallow-faced girl, elaborately trimmed
and flounc' d. ‘How are we to treat
her now ? We have been great friends*'
you know ; that is, when she was in
our set.’ she. added, seeing Lizzie's
brow darken.
‘I'll toll you how I shall treat her/
responded Lizzie, slowly drawing on a
pair of perfumed, three-button kid
gloves; ‘precisely as I treat all of
papa's clerks. And I sould like to
see any of them presume !’
‘0, but Laura won’t presume ! Y"ou
needn’t be afraid of that ; she's too
proud.'
'But how can you help it when you
go to the store or church ? She sits so
near us, you know.’
‘Of course she’ll give up that pew.
Stic can’t afford that'
‘That's precisely what she does not
mean to do. I heard her say the fam¬
ily must economise somewhere else
and keep the pew. Her mother is
hard of hearing and could not enjoy
the services further back. The chil¬
dren, kMy must go to church. That is
the last thing, she said, one ought to
give up. I heard her say this to your
father last Sunday/
‘How provoking !' said Lizsie, im¬
patiently. ‘She will always be in our
faces. But I shall have nothing to do
with her. I know what it is foy the
artful minx !—it’s to keep near us. She
knows she has got into papa's good
graces ; and Al, too, admires her. I
don’t see what there is to admire.
She’s very plain/
‘Laura is no beauty/ was the reply,
‘but I don’t think she’s so very plain
She certainly has lowered herself)
though, by going into a store.' And
thereupon the two girls went out for
their walk,
It was near twilight of that day
when Laura Stanley walked briskly
home and entered the neat two-story
house to which her mother had lately
removed such of her household effects
as had been spared by the auctioneer.
‘This is really pleasant,’ she said,
si " kin S int0 a c,,!,ir " ,at had bu ™
drawn near to the glowing grate. ‘I
no ,d e{l vou would so soon
make the house bome-like/
‘
, * u very tired my dear ?' ask
ed 'UA/rhcLT mother'a refine Woofcim* wo
man, » 9 .be «er "
IZlv and h U
but I like the business • and
tts , a fine pb fm . the study ot char
acter. somethin"
'I ">■* 7™ "» d chosen S ' meth, °"
d *T
don't wish so,’ said Laura.
13 . ' . , 8e th ., t wol ,td have
" I used
brought a salary at once.
wonder what a certain person would
I Ue to me if I were not the rich Mr,
EASTMAN, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, JULY 3, IS79.
Stanley's daughter, and now I
It's a knowledge worth gaining.'
‘Do you meet many persons you are
acquainted with?' asked her
'Ob, yes; and it's amusing
they come upon me suddenly. Oh !—
really!—is this Miss Stanley ? and
sometimes up go the eye-glasses. Then
j f ee l—well, as if I should like to
f reeze somebody, if I could, for a
u t e# Others see me and make believe
they are examining goods ; so absorbed
are they that they go clear by me
without looking up^ and pass out the
same way. But such sights don't
trouble me. I find out how much true
friendship is worth, and who, out of
all the sheming ladies I have been in
the habit of meeting^ are true, and
who are false.*
‘Then you meet some that are
true ?‘
‘Yes, indeed ; Judge Agate's wife,
who always seemed to me so proud
and distant, came up to me with a
glowing face and fairly congratulated
me. She did like a lady, too, and like
a friend. There was nothing patron¬
izing about her. And there are seve"
ral others to whom rny position makes
no difference. They prize me for what
1 am. Yet what a price to pay to
learn the value of true friendship,* ad¬
ded Laura, with a deep sigh.
‘I met Aggie Doyle to-day, and she
wouldn't speak to me,* said
Laura's sister, who had come into die
room and overheard the last remark.
‘Why should she not speak to me, I
wonder V
‘Because your sister is a clerk in
her father's store,' said Laura, some
wjiat bitterly.
'That's no reason why she should
treat me s >,* the cfiiid replied.
'Of course it isn't ; nor is it any
reason why Lizzie, her oldest sister,
should ignore me. I liked her so
much, too.* But to-day she came in¬
to the store and passed me with such
a glance after I had*piepared a smile
and welcome i n' her. Mr. Doyle’ has
been so kind since papa's death that I
looked for better treatment from Liz¬
zie. That, I confess, wounded me ;
and I shall have to meet her so often
But never mind I must remember my
place/ she added ; ‘I have to work for
my living now—but I will bo proud of
it! Good-by, old life of lazy case!
G od-by, old worthless friends ! Your
coldness cannot hurt the real me ; it
is otuy tue worthless young lady ot
fashion who feels it, and she is slowly
departing this life.*
‘Have you filled all your invita
turns?' asked Lizzie's eldest’ brother
one of the firm of Doyle & Co., some
days after the previous conversation
took place.
Lizzie was arranging a hundred or
mure tiny, cream-colored envelopes,
which she tied together with some
pretty, bright-lined ribbon.
‘I believe so/ she replied, with a
smile. ‘I have asked every young
lady of my acquaintance, and I think
our party will be the finest of the sea¬
son, if papa will have the carpets ta¬
ken up in the west rooms and the
floors chalked. Rutger will do them
for $50, and you have no idea how
beautifully he works/
'I think ratner will not refuse that/
her brother replied. ‘ITl speak to
him/
‘Thank you, Al. Then I am sure he
will have it done. /I have asked him
so much that I was aim ist afraid to
ask him for more.*
‘By the by, have you invited Miss
Laura Stanley 7‘ her brother asked as
he was going out.
Of course not, said Lizzie.
‘Of course not, 1 and pray, why not f
he asked, standing still.
‘Why, Al, what an idea ! She
wouldn't accept it. Our shop-girl
father's clerk— I wouldn't have her for
the world V
Then, if shure she would ’
you are
not come, you might have sent her an
invitation out of compliment/ her
brother replied.
‘ l don ‘‘ consUer her »“
tance,‘ said Lizzie, and Al walked out
of the room with a shrug -of the shoul
dors.
Presently her father came in. ‘Liz
zi<s‘ he said.‘I not/of particularly wish sks you
a invitation to
Laura Stanley.'
'Papa, yon don't mean it!' exclaim
ed Lizzie, chagrined.
. Jn ,, ee d, I do mean it. What! slight
the daughter of one of my most cher
ishe d friends, because she has c nne
down in the world in a money
P oi| it of view * I should despise rny
self for if
‘But, papa, she won't come/ said
Lizzie,
‘Never mind whether she will or
not.* Write an invitation. I'll take it
to her.
Lizzie sat down, pale and angry to
write the note. After all her boast
ing of having ‘cut the Stanleys,* it was
very hard to be obliged to invite Lau
ra. Her cheeks grew betas she in—
dited the polite little missive, while
she remembreed the many times she
had ignored her to whom it was ad
dressed. She would have disobeyed
had she dared—would have withheld
the note after it was written, had her
father not stood by to take it.
‘Later, her brother Al. came to her.
‘I should like an Invitation, Lizzie,
for a young lady of my acquaintance,*
he said, in a quiet voice.
‘Who is she
‘The young lady whom I have ask¬
ed to be my wife, he said, smiling.
'Oh, Al, of course you shall have it !
I am to have a sister, then ? I'm so
glad. What is her name ? Is she in
the city ? Will she be sure to come ?
I‘m sure I em't think of any one.*
And then she paused, puzzled at his
shrewd s nile.
‘Do I know her ?‘ she asked.
‘You used to,' he answered. 'It is
Miss Laura Stanley !’
‘Oh, Al " She sank down, covering
her face with her hands.
‘I was afraid she might feel the
slight so keenly/he said, softly, ‘that I
hurried matters a little. So you need
not be afraid now that she will not
come. Will you not prepare an invi¬
tation ?'
‘I have. Papa has carried it to her.
But oh, Al, a clerk !'
'A noble woman,* said her brother,
‘who dares face the sneers of ‘her set,'
and take an honest position for the
sake of those who are dependent upon
her, rather than whine about her for¬
mer dignity and live upon charity. I
wish there were more like her.*
So Lizzie was forced, for once in
her life, to cat humble pie.
Kitty’s Slice of Cheese.
•__
Kitty liked cheese. There was al"
ways some in the house, for grandpa
was very fond of il,aud mamma kept
it tor him.
One day Kitty wanted some, and
thought she would get it herself. She
knew where it was, and could reach it.
If she had waited til] tea-time, her
mother would, no doubt, have given
jt, i u . r . Eut she was not at home,and
Kitty was impatient.
She went in to the china-closet took
a kll]fe from the tray, and began to
cnt a vvicfe, thin slice, such as she
dearly liked. But the knife was sharp;
Sarah was very particular about the
kniver, and always kept them sharp
and shiuing; it slipped, and went right
into the little thumb.
It was well for Kitty that, instead
of going straight down toward the
bone, it took a slanting direction mak¬
ing what she called “a trap-door/
It was something of a cut, however
and bled freely. Kitty was a brave
child and not easily frightened. Site
made no sound but dropped the knife,
put lie other hand under the cut one
and ran into the bath-room.
She held the poor little thumb un¬
der the cold water faucet till it stop
ped bleeding, and went quietly back
to her play-room. She knew where
the soft rags and such things were
kept, and she tried to keep her thumb
out of sight, and said not a word of
her mishap to any one.
In fact, she thought she had been
rather foolish and felt ashamed of her
self, so she would rather do without
pity and comforting than tell even her
mother
There was np tel 1-tail spot on the
| ‘
slie ws or fland it s0 happened
*
t H a t no one noticed the cut.
Not till years afterwards when Kit- j
t y was grown a young 'told lady, did she | j
mention. Then she her mother
an( j showed her the scar* for there '
it stayed, a little while line * * j
She has s.nceshwn it to Lerchidrcn
and t0 , d thcm ti , e storv
"
_ T here re,l
ls a » ,GU8 moveraent
. tobacco , . the Oneida Comma
m
h'ty where the weed has been freely
The teforn.ors do not take and
P. led f > nor vh ~
sire to smoke or chew,hut pray for God
*° reraove the appetit0 lor tobacco ’
many declare tb*t they have thus
beea cured -
No man can teb just how much
money a widow is worth until he mar¬
ries her for it. It is one of those cases
where you have thke your chances.
Fishing.
I landed my first pickerel- the first
evening we were on Cake Minnetonka.
^ am n °t a skillful fisherman. I told
the boys that I could do a little plain
fishing, but didti t w T ant to be sent
down .or any thing with any kind of
Siting, embroidery knife-plaiting, or
anything of that kind about it. 1 fish
‘d from the shore y by the side of a
j Titusville. y eteran fisher, He Mr. knows A. K. Dunlap, fish of in
! every
Lie bike by name. He can tell by the
movement of the line what kind of ji
’ s at y ,llir hook. Something ran
awa y with rn y ^ no -
^ ,,s a f > * cera V shouted Mr Dunlap
* n i fJ tense excitement. A big fellow,
1 '^' a ^ e ol ’t y° ur lines,’ he yelled to the
rest of them. ~ ‘Give him plenty of
room! Play him,' lie shrieked at me.
‘Let him run! Keep your line taut!
Don't give him an inch of slack! Look
out! Don’t let him ilo that agaiu! Let
him run! Now, bring him in this—
Look out! Don't let him do that
again.’
By this time I was so excited I was
on the point of throwing down the
pole and rushing out in the lake, inten¬
ding to run the fish down and kick it
to death, I screamed to Mr. Dun¬
lap:
‘You take the pole and land him—I
never can/
lie refused. He turned and hurled
his own pole, lance fashion, into the
woods. .
‘Here!' he shouted, rushing down
the bank about twenty feet below me,
stooping down and spreading out his
arms. ‘Here! Now Bring him in
here through the shoal water! I'll
get him! Careful, now! Careful!
Steady! All—’
And flip, flip,I had him on the shore.
He was a beauty. A little sunfish
about three and a half inches loug.
It was a-long time before we said
anything. Mr. Dunlap climbed a big
birch tree, in the top oi which his pole
had ledged.and we resumed our fishing*
Presently Charley Armknocht cough¬
ed and I said:
‘How funy the frogs sound over Jn
the marsh.
And then we laughed a long time
at the frogs. A long .long time, and
very funny frogs.
But Mr, Dunlap fished on very si¬
lently, and by he said the fish would't
bite when there was so much, noise*
S t we held our hush and the fish bit.
But they didn't bite any of us very
badly\
The fishing is excellent almost any¬
where in the lake. That evening on
the upper lake one of the boys caught
nine large pickerel. When we came
to count the fish, however, it appeared
that we had caught one pickerel nine
times. It was a large fish, and they
are going to have its skin dried whole
for a spectacle. I caught more fish
than any one else in the party, but
they were all, with exception, catfish,
and I learned, to my amazement, that*
I had disgraced myself and the lake.
Why isn’t a fish a fish,I’d like to know*
— Burdette.
Where ?
Wfiere shall we find our aristocrats?
^ wenty years ago this one made
candles, that one sold candles and but
ter > another butchered, a fourth car¬
ried on a distillery, another xvas a con
tractor on canals, others were mer
chants and mechanics. They are ac
quainted with both ends of society,
as their children will be after them,
thongh it will not do to say so out
loud. For often you find these toiling
wo ™ s hatch butterflee—and they live
about a year. Death brings a divis
ion of property, and it brings new
financiers. The old gentleman is dis
and the young gentleman
takes revenues and begins to travel—
toward poverty, which he reaches be
fore deatl, » or hls children do, if he
does not > S!) i’ 1 ^ aC L there is a sort
of moneyed rank ; it is not hereditary ;
il is acceS3iblc t0 a,U The father
grubs and grows rich Ins children ,
;
strut and use the money. The chil
dren in turn inherit pride\ind go shift
less to poverty. Next their children,
ve.iavigorated by fresh plebeian blood
aild by the ame ,f 0 f tbe clod, come up
gai „. TUa9 societ} , like a tree>
draws its sap from tbe earth.
The climax of incredulity is thus il¬
lustrated in a French paper : “X. is
such a liar that with him one hasn't
even the recourse of believing the con¬
trary cf what be says/’
A boot-maker has this extraordinary
announcement in the window : ‘Ladies
will be sold as low as 75 cents a pair.
Holidays of the Iiraln,
Tbe masses who depend mainly up¬
on their physical exertions for a live¬
lihood are apt to fancy that mind-work
is light labor. This is a great mistake.
No species of toil more rapidly ex¬
hausts t he bodily energies than intense
and incessant thought. Happiest,
healthiest, most likely to live long and
enjoy life, are they who judiciously
blend intellectual with mechanical ex
ercise. With that delicate and won
der.-working muscle, the brain # all the
elements of the body ‘marrow, bones
and all diiectly sympathize,
Twenty-four hours of hard thinking
prostrates the system more completely
than a day’s mowing, or digging or
plowing. In surgical cases, where it
has been found necessary to expose a
portion of the organ, it lias been seen
to think. The manufacture of ideas,
under the influence of that invisible
and immortal element of which the
brain is the instrument, has been seen
going on, and we are told tint the per¬
turbations ot the thought-machine,
under a full head of mental steam, are
rapid, continuous, and sometimes vio¬
lent. One scientific observer says that
the surface of the brain undulates in
such cases like the surface ot the sea—
‘'that visible waves of thought pass
over the cerebrum."
The mastei organ, therefore, is as
well entitled to its holidays as the vas¬
sal arm which it governs and directs,
and needs them quite as much. Deli¬
cious are its seasons of perfect rest,
when the cares and troubles of busi.
ness are cast aside, and nothing is per.
mitted to intermeddle with its dreamy
trance. Sabbaths are the heaven-or¬
dained holidays of the brain. Provi¬
dence, who gave to intellect its pro¬
gressive power, knew that i f must bi¬
vouac on the march. “Six days shalt
thou labor," but on the seventh, “do
no manner of work/’ applies to mind
as well as muscle ; and whoever dis¬
obeys the kindly mandate, trifles with
his health, mentally and bodily, and
is guilty of the blindest folly as well as
the basest ingratitude. | Chicago Led
yer'
Kick Without Money.
Many a man is rich without money.
Thousands of men with nothing in
their pockets, are rich. A man born
with a good sound constitution, a good
stomach, a good heart, and good limbs,
and a pretty good head-piece, is rich
Good bones are better than gold, tough
muscles than silver, and nerves that
-flash fire and energy to every function
ore better than houses and lands. It
is better than a landed estate to have
the right kind of a father and mother.
Good breeds and bad breeds exist
among men as really as among herds
and horses. Edcation may do much
to check evil tendencies or develop
good ones ; but it is a great thing to
inherit the right proportion of facul¬
ties to start with. The man is rich
who has a good disposition—who is
naturally kind, patient, cheerful, hope¬
ful, and who has a flavor of wit and
fun in liis composition. The hardest
thing to get on with in this life is a
man’s own self. A cross, selfish fellow
—a desponding and complaining fel¬
low—a timid and care-burdened man
—these are all born deformed on the
inside. Their feet do not limp, but
their thoughts do.— Chicago Ledger.
How They Ran.
Old Skinner is a great lover of war
reminiscences, and is not slow to tell
of his own exploits in that way. As
with most men, who pride themselves
on a war record, Skinner also gives
the best side of his tales to his own
army, lie was telling one of his
grandchildren recently of a famous
battle in which he was engaged. Ilis
description of the flying balls, boom¬
ing of cannon, and charge of the
troops was very vivid and tfie little
boy listened with increased interest.
At last, when Skinner stopped to fill
his pipe, the little boy asked:
‘And did the enemy run?'
‘Did they run?' said Skinner.
'Great Scott, how they did r in! My
dear boy, they ran so like thunder
that we ran three miles to keep out
of their way, au', if we hadn't thrown
our guns away, they'd have run us
down, sure/
Now the winds that softly breathe,
and the flowers that garlands wreathe,
a gentle hint of summer in the mind
implants ; and so the beetles, the sp>
ders and the ants.
NO. 27.
TT’/r AM) HUMOR.
Prime butter—A billy goat.
Small for its eyes—A young owl.
The tobacco cliewer’s music—spit
tune.
How to mark table linen—Upset tlie
gravy.
The fattest 1 og has the most win¬
ning weigh.
Motto for grocers—Honest tea is
the best policy.
Going the rounds of the press—the
girl who waltzes.
Positive, wait; comparative, waiter;
superlative, get it yourself.
In putting “the best foot forward"
always use the right or it will bo left.
Cider is one of the most striking
illustrations of the power of tho press.
The mosquito, like thg rest of tho
nabobs, will soon make Iris hum by the
sea.
Napoleon was called the gray-eyed
man of destiny, but our African broth¬
er is the black-hide man of destiny.
We presume that it is because the
coral is a kind of fish, that it makes
tbe best red earring.
The young girl who graduates in
four languages and sixteen flounces
will soon be heard from.
The most economical man is report¬
ed as living in the second ward. He
took a bung-hole to the cooper to have
a barrel made around it.
A grocer had a pound of sugar re¬
turned wil h a note saying : ‘Too much
sand tor table use, and not enough for
building purposes.’
The Judge looked down with serious
frown
Upon that nose so pink,
And then he said : 'Old puddin’ head
Now tell me, do you drink ?’
The soaker smiled like some bland
child,
And rose from where he sate ;
‘Well, seein' it's you, don't care if I
do—
I always take mine straight/
It is not difficult to convince the man
who has just been informed that his
wife has given birth to her second sot
of triplets, that overproduction is what
is ruining this country.
A correspondent writes to ask us
‘how old is the lyre ?’ Well, accord¬
ing to tradition, the one you play on
was invented more than four thousand
years ago, but the one that plays on it
a little less than thirty-five..
A western paper tells of a man who
claims to have swapped horses thirty*
seven times and cheated tho other man
every time, and yet when his wife
died the other day he promised to
meet her in he »veu.
Diner at a fashionable restaurant
calling tho waiter's attention to his
plate : “What do you call this stuff?'
Waiter • ‘That, sir, that's bean soup/
Diner: 'Well, 1 don't want to know
what it has been; what is it now ?
An epitaph in a Maiue cemetery
asserts :
‘The wedding wedding day appointed provided, was,
The clothes
But ere that day did come, ulas !
He sickened and he dieded.
An Irishman, fresh from the olJ
country, found a tree full of green per¬
simmons, and climbing to the top, he
helped himself to the fruit. A passer
by overheard him say : ‘By the pow¬
ers, an I‘m the lad that can knock the
socks oft* the man that poured vim-gar
these plums.
Horrible! horrible! A.new sub¬
scriber says that he has just heard
that the refrigerator, and wants to
know who ate her. If that person had
P ai< 3 f° l ‘ a whole year in advance.,
h’ 8 name would be cut off tue list in*
stauter. Reft igcratoi, indeed . Teat s
an ice subject to bring up, isn't it.?