Newspaper Page Text
V'U 5 '!t‘ VII,
« & % X \\ V .
A WARNING.
was it that died last night in tho street?
Otit in the fearful storm,
i''it j n the cold and pitiless street,
found was the lifelong form.
Who was it that died last uiglrt in the street ?
Only a drunken sot—
A wandering, outcast vagabond,
jv dearest lncnds lorgot.
And yet the bloated form wag cnce
Uf ft noble soul the shrine—
A -. rit tnat'burned with glorious hopes
Till the fatal, fervid wine,
In a festal throng was proffered'‘bin*
l!y a woman’s jeweled hand,
With a smile as soft as a tropic dawn ;
tml n playful, sweet command.
<Ie drank tho draught! his fate was sealed—
* spell ;f
Wove was the deadly
.Slowly, with many struggles hard,
prom that fatal hour he fell.
jfjifm down, and down, and down.
Until nil hope was riven
Of happiness while hero on earth—
Of happiness iu heaven.
•Twits he they found in the frozen street,
With a fixed, unearthly stare,
That under the moon’s pale, clovded light,
Told piainJy of despair.
Twas ha they found in the frozen street,
And laid in a pauper’s grave ;
fliu'lr was the life and such tho death
Of the man to drink a slave.
M ISCELLANY.
KUTirs LOVE.
15V OLIVE LEAF.
,Cou°in Ruth, who is it you have
wn married V
Me Gordon had been tolling of
J;(T"Wn engagement, and something
in (lie eyes of her le stess, a sad, wist¬
ful expression that spoke the pain and
regret of long years, prompted the
qu stion.
Until Linton’s sweet face paled and
her voice quivered as she answered :
'!> cause L could love but once..
I u thought hard of my refusing Dr.
Leigh, but I had no In art to give ?’
Tie a.so torgivo me ; I did not mean
to wound you/
! ain not hurt. Y'ou said just now
'lut life had been all liappiuess since
Walter loved you, and a thought of
wliat might have been saddened me-
1 was two years younger than you
vlien a young law* student became an
inmate ol our house. I loved *nira
i; om the first. He was so noble so
much superior to the young men 1 had
met in society. 1 knew something of
/a hi Tory. Young as I was, I lion
med the son who had supported a
widowed mother. I respected the
man who had educated himself and
was winning golden opinions from
!Ue11 ol •sterling worth. I might have
s n,tvn to he a woman of fashion, but
K reused to action all the latent good
n ni y nature. How pitiful and in
i " -'dlicant my former life seemed. I
‘ i0W t ,lt; siui never more surely warm.
'-■I a flower into life than his influence
JiJ D1 )' butter self, though I did not
“ 1 :!l c truth then as I do now.
eighteenth birthday', father gave
n! e a grand bull. That night was the
•monday of my life. It can come to a
woman but once, that brightest of
Il0!,! T "Ton she learns the love of a
hue heart, God’s precious gift to the
erring >'uce, is hers. Sidney Darrel
loved "to! That was joy enough.
We VVere both so young that the
■ uu ' vve must wait before he could
win a nat ‘H3 and borne were butsilvcr
frsn f . ged
clouds in our summer-time of
love.
rather had always shown Sidney
possible kindness. My own
1 ^‘or eauld not have received more
®° Q lidencc! and firm him, and
respect
utterly unprepared for bis refu¬
^ asked him
se to sanction our
‘= a S<-‘ment. I am afraid I displayed
fn 1,11 ot the Linton pride and tern
for f llt ker grew very angry and
sent Ul )‘ to stay with grandmother,
j dney should remain in our
^ i5t ’ "bich you know was not long.
w 011 o interview. Sydney
1,1 li:lve released but I would
, 01 ** free. me,
Z I said I would wait
Sfc ;,;y<-el /'j'" suie be, for my father’s con
j v w consent was on
eity causj of Sydney’s pov
an ytld;, A Darrell was/oo true t> do
!|| o by clandestinely, and so wo
" > chance.
\ r
*
/A f im? *
‘b’our long years of waiting,
and toiling. \\ ith each, my
dreams of,his success were
Competence was his at last and
laurels as be had won might
graced a king’s brow. We went
my father on my twenty-second
day j confidently expecting his
consent. Mine was not a
heart, and I could hardly bear
cold, pitiless rejection of Sydney
second time, when no reason was
parent. The bitter truth came at
For mouths l had received marked
tention from a reputed millionaire.
hud felt like a guilty civaturcMn
so, for I lipid human hearts too
to be pfn t"d v illi, but father bad
me no chance to avoid him, and
could not see where I was
Father was on the eve of bankruptcy
and Gilbert Morris would save
sinking credit at the price of
hand. Don’t blame poor old
for urging me to this leaveless
riago. I know lie suffered
more than Sydney or I. My
mother was ill—dying, we
with consumption. She was reared
in luxury, and it was terrible to
father to think of bearing poverty.
could not sacrifice myself, but 1
some property left me by my
mother, and that sustained my
credit while my stepmother
which was only three months
‘The morning before I gave
Morris my final answer, I received
note from Sydney, saying he
sail within an hour for
as I was to be the wife of another,
must travel to forget the pasi.
‘I looked for him to come to me
when the crash came and father died ;
but be never even wrote. Still, I
lieved he would come back, and in
belief lived and worked.
‘There was no tim'd to sit and
my grief. My young step-s?sters, Es¬
sie and Daisy, and myself must be
supported, This dear old place
grandma Kirks was left me ; I had un
de Eben, our faithful old gardener, so
I commenced marketing for a living.
I tried leaching, too; but it was s >
confining, I gave it up after one term.
I then added a small dairy to my gar¬
den, and by dose economy was en¬
abled to live comfortably, eveu happi¬
ly.'
‘Happily V questioned undisciplined
Sadie.
‘Yes ; I do think any one who culti*
votes a submissive spirit, and con¬
scientiously performs each duty, can¬
not fail to derive a certain degree
happiness from such a life. This dot's
not come all at once ; there must be
many sad failures before the lesson
learn. Strong to endure as I felt my¬
self when the star of my love went
down, when there was no heart to
share life’s good and ill with mine, I
sank into suck darkness of soul as I
shudder to recall.’
‘Did Sydney die V
‘lo me. Two years from the
he left, I saw his marriage in a fi lvgn
paper. That was the end. Ilush,
God only chastens in love. Do you
remember these lines in Phoebe
‘Woman’s Conclusions ?’
‘I would not make the path [ have trod
More pleasant or even, more straight or wide
Nor change my course the breadth of a hair,
This wav or that way, to either side.’
Sadie broke the eloquent
that fell on both in that hushed
we involuntarily use when speaking
of holy'things.
‘Mother said your life was a
fice, but I could not understand
But you must be lonely now, the
are married. What will you do
Walter comes for me ; I am
sorry to go.’
‘I do not know. I have been
ing of adopting’—a teniffiic
startled them.
‘What is it?’ asked Sadie,
white lips.
‘An explosion, I fear ; it is just
for the evening train to come
Ruth's surmise was too true ;
train was almost torn in pieces ;
any one escaped was a miracle.
home was close to the disaster, and
was fast lilted with the wounded.
until every sufferer had been
as comfortable as possible, and
ed with a careful nurse, did
think of rest. Too weary almost
move, yet toe* sympathetic to
she drew an easy chair to her
bedside and prepared to watch by
lovely young creature, who lay
white and still, as if Hie little
hands were folded forever.
Presently the great, dark
opened, aud the sweetest of
asked, ‘Are you at leisure now ?
you please write a note to my
EASTMAN, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, AUGUST 7, 1S79.
and tell him where ami hovr I am ?
He will be so anxious. I should like
him to come at once.
‘Yes, certainly, with pleasure ; what
is his address V
Did Ruth hear light? Was the
floor slipping (rum under her feet, and
the rush and roar of Niagara tilling
her ears ?
How sepulchral her voice sounded,
when she asked again for the number
of his office !
All that long night, and the longer
day that followed, as she kept her un¬
tiring care of his wife, Ruth was nerv
ing herself for the coming, praying
for strength to meet this Sydney of
long ago. God help her; human will
is too weak to control human hearts.
Sue was standing by the window when
he came, outwardly calm—only the
shadowy, violet eyes and sensitive
mouth telling that she was suffering
‘Miss Linton, will you please come
here, so Col. Darrell may see who has
been so kind to me ?’
Ruth turned, made one step to¬
wards them, then stopped. Was it
the light of the setting sun that bath¬
ed the white face with such radient
beauty ?
Colonel Darrell smiled as he tool*
bolh hands in his own, and listened to
the low, murmured words of welcome.
Out oft lie house, away from every¬
body, her swift feet went. Down in
the tangled orchard grass her joyful
thanksgiving was poured out to Him
who watches the sparrow’s fall. There
was a mistake somewhere ; this
blonde-haired man was not the lover
of her heart. A shadow fell before
her as she rose from her knees, bat
she did not see it.
‘I believe he has been true all these
sad years.’
‘He has, Ruth—my Ruth 1’
‘Sidney !’ It was his very self
standing there—the old light in his
eyes, the old smile on his care-worn
face ; his hands holding her own, as in
byg me days.
‘My darling, I never knew until
you wrote that letter to my cousin
Sydney, that you were not married/
Explanations followed, interspersed
with smiles and tears. We have
nothing to do with these. But Sadie
was bridesmaid soon after, and now
there are two Mrs. Sydney Darrells.
A Victim of Morphine.
A young girl jumped from a bridge
in Chicago into the river, with the
intention of committing suicide, but
was rescued and taken to the station
house. A few moments after her in¬
carceration the girl was seen by a re¬
porter in her cell. She was a revela¬
tion in the way of peculiar and start¬
ling beauty. Her tangled masses of
ofblue.-b!aek hair, yet damp from the
recent seach after nothingness, were
bound back from a low, Clytie-like
forehead in one deft coil which wound
about the dainty brow as though it
were a crown. Beneath flashed and
glowed a psir of great luminous eyes
which sent out from their ’puzzling
midnight depths wondrous gleams of
inquiry, doubt and questioning, over
all of which there seemed to dominate
the hopefulness of unutterable despair.
The petite figure was arrayed wholly
in biack, relieved only at the throat
by some little article of feminine
adornment.
‘NY hat is your name ?* quaried Capt.
O'Donnell.
‘Mary IIuys.‘
‘Why did you try to kill yourself V
‘Because—but what's the use of
telling you? Nobody in this world
cares for me, and if I choose to end
my nuse.iy, why, iu God's name should
I be prevented ?
‘Haven't you any friends ?‘
‘Friends ? no, not one. If I had do
jou supposed would have been doing
kitchen-work drudgery w to keep sou!
and body together ?‘
‘But you seem an unusually lady
like, intelligent girl. What is the
matter ?
‘Matter ! If you felt yoirseif grap¬
pled with hooks of steel, and knew'
your destiny was dragging you down
to the lowest pit, could you stand it to
face hour by hour that awful torment
of a remorseless habit and fight as I
have fought ? Matter ? The matter
is I can't stop using morphine. Look
at me now ! Behind the’barsnf a com
in on jail, bedraggled, unkempt, an
outcast. My God ? My God ! why
didu't you let mo die t' and flinging
he'self on the hard wooden bench the
poor thing subbed as if her heart would
break.
‘How long have you used morphine?
the reporter a*ked;
‘Ever since [ was a child of twelve.
My mother ate it, and a poor, silly
school-girl, would steal from her box
little quantities of the drug. It seem
ed a grand thing then, and I would
conjure up the most gorgeous visions
one ever heard of. For a while the
habit didn‘t interfere with me, but at
last it bound me about with the most
awful chains. You men/ she contin¬
ued, ‘may despise and sneer at me now,
but it is not so very long since you
would have been glad to kuow me and
lifts your hats wbeu I passed along
the streets. I was born in New Or
leans and my father was for eight
years State Treasurer of Arkansas. I
learned bookkeeping with him, and
got a good place in the Treasury De
parturient at Washington. Then I
came to Chicago, and James Ste jv art
gave me $100 per month to keep his
books. I lost this situation through
morphine, but procured another one
right off just as good with W. D. Ker«
foot. Morphine again, and the only
resource left me was to live out as a
common servant at two dollars a
week. Once more—that is only a
few days ago—I failed in e ren this
miserable resource, and houseless,
homeless, a wanderer, what would
yon have me do but die ?”
‘Wasn’t the water cold ?’
‘Cold (shuddering)? Oh, God ! yes;
but it was warm and kindly and char¬
itable beside the people who fear it.
1 shall go down to the river the mo¬
ment I gvt out of here. There is no
spot in all this world for such a wretch
as I.’
There was a touch of inexpressible
pathos in the last Words, and the inter¬
locutors moved silently away and left
the poor girl with her sorrow and de¬
spair.
A Romantic Scene.
It is doubtfull if any theatre every'
offered such volumes of romantic inci¬
dent as the deck of the old time Mis¬
sissippi steamer. In the o'd days
before the railrods traversed the con¬
tinent iu every direction, and the west
a wilderness, Now Orleans was the
Mecca of travelers, and the fleet wave
born carried thousands of pleasure
seekers to the south. It was then
that life was a carousal; and men and
women surrendered themselves to
the most lavish enjoyments. Gaming
was a custom and courage an instinct.
Men were as prone to brawls as the
sparks to fly upward. Conspicuous
among the fierce and rolicking habi¬
tues of the steamers was Captain West
a noted duelist. One day he engaged
in a controversy with a gentleman
whom he met on the deck, whom he
accuessed of staring at him impertin¬
ently.
‘Why do you look at me so intently?
dedraanded the captain.
‘I am not looking at you,’ calmly re¬
plied the stranger, his eyes meanwhile
fixed in a stony glare upon the duelist
face.
‘But you arc, sir.
‘I am not/
The captain turned away but a
short time afterward he felt that those
stony eyes were again upon him and
following all his movements with
pitiless ferocity. It became inexpres
sibly annoying, and the captain at last
determined to make an end of it.
Stepping up to the stranger he inquire
ey,th suppressed passion:
Un you figlit as well as look.'
‘Perhaps so. I never tried it.
1 ace me, however, in position and
w i: o m> best.
. Hio singular conduct of the stran
ger had by tins time attracted mover
sal attention, and whispered confer
one s regarding his remarkable ap
pearence ag,ted little groups of per.
sons a.I over the boat. In a short
tune however the rosso rounded to
a land,ng for wood and then the par
ties to the Impromptu due! went
ashore. The stranger was led o« by
a negro servant, who seemingly pick.
ed bis way. In leed from the intense
be wos manifesting in the encounter,
the colored servant was apparently
more deeply interested in the encoun
ter, than his master. But the time
allotted for preliminaries was brief,
and the man were put in position and
pistols placed in their hands,
The word was given and two ring
ing reports flashed out on the air.
Captain West fell pierced to the heart.
i e stiaiuei stop, tiect, calm and
dignified. His second rushed up to
1 m ”
Are you hu. t Mr?’
No; how 18 it with my antagonist?’
Can’t you see? You have
him.’
‘No; I am unable to see.’
‘You C*n’i SceP
*No; I am blind,’
And be was. The tragedy was a
nine days wonder, and all sorts of ruin¬
ors was rife as to the identity of the
fatal stranger. But who he was and
whither he weut was a mystery never
solved. The circumstance went to
make up an incident in the dark and
bloody memories which made famous
the olden time.
A Romantic Marriage.
Mr. W. J. Erwin, of this county,
and Miss Dayis of Oharlesto, were
married last January, but it was not
until about a month ago the fact be¬
came generally known. It seems that
Mr. Erwin was in Charleston during
the Christmas holidays to see bis
sweetheart. They had been engaged
for some time before this visit, and
Mr. Erwin insisted on a marriage at
once, but the lady objected to going
to the country so soon. Mr. Erwin
proposed a compromise by marrying
at once, with the understanding that
she should come to his home in Abbe
ville as soon as possible. A minister
was called, and in the presence of the
family of which she was a member
the marriage ceremony was perform¬
ed. The minister was requested to
say nothing of the matter. Mr. Er¬
win returned to his home at Erwin’s
mill iu Abbeville county, and the young
lady remained at her home in Charles¬
ton until some time in June, when siie
cauio to Honea Path, where she was
met bv her husband. I p to this time
nobody in the neighborhood where
Mr. Erwin lived knew nothing of the
marriage of Mr. Erwin, and on her
arrival all were surprised. We have
had the pleasure of meeting the happy
couple in their ne it cottage, with its
vine c’ad porch under the hill, where
the city bride will henceforth live
within the sound of the murmuriug
waters that turn the tireless wheels.—
Abbeville Press and Banner.
It is Going to Rain:
The old signs seldom fail—a red
and angry sunrise, or flushed clondd
at evening. Many a hope of rain have
I seen dashed by a painted sky at sun
set. There is truth in the old coup¬
let, too :
If it rains before seven,
It will clear before eleven.
Morning rains are usually short¬
lived. Better wait till 10 o’clock
When the clouds are chilled, they turn
blue and rise up. When the fog
leaves the mountain, reaching upward,
as if afraid of being left, the fair
weather is near. Shoddy clouds are
of little amount, and soon fall to
pieces. Have your cloulds show a
good strong filber, and have them lin*
ed—not with silver, but with other
clouds of a finer texture—and have
them wadded. It wants two or three
thicknesses to get up a rain. Espe¬
cially, unless you have that cloud
mother, that diin, filmy, nebulous
mass that has its root iu the higher
regions of air, and is the source and
backing of all storms—your rain will
be light indeed.
II G t ft *
_
A little 6 year-old boy in Natchez ri
M had bepn | isten ining to the
marks 0 f a legal-minded uncle iu re
RRrd t0 th8 prosptot ofa „ indit . telI
person getting ciear by securing a
continuance of his ease from time to
tilne Shortly after the little fellow
got into a scrape l which secured for
him from bis mo her a promise fll a
little d . 8 e of slipper at an early period,
He allxioas] ht his Ul)cle |or a(| _
vice ou (lle subj but CQU , d .
pathy only, with no prospect of relief.
finally, said the youngster : 'Uncle,
d(m , t ^ Coul(] / moth „
tQ conti , me tt|C casc , It ve could
= a eollthuanoe ’ , tfci ‘ . , , ,
° et #ff * , H t0 ff
____
Invulnerable.
-
true t0 y uurselt > and enemies .
cannct harm you. They cannot by all
their efforts take away your knowledge
of yourself, the purity of your motives j
the into 2J'ity of your character and ;
tlle generosity of your nature. While
these are left you arc, in point of fact,
unharmed.
She was an Albany lady who in
f olraod a visitor who came to see her i
new house that she was having ‘nicks
made in the walls iu which to place t
statutes one in one of them a bum ol
l„. r iiusbimd.’
-
‘Why is tiie sun masculine'/—‘’Cos
sons alias is.’ ‘And the moon femi¬
nine?’—*’CoS it is so changin’/
Luck and Labor.
If the boy who exclaims, ‘Just
luck’/was truthful, he would say,
my laziness!’or Must my
Mr. Cobden wrote proverbs
,Luck and Labor.’ It would be
for boys to memorize them:
Luck is waiting for something to
tip.
Labor, with keen eyes and
will, turn up something.
Luck begin bed and whishes
postman would bring him news of
legacy.
Labor turns out G o'clock, and
busy pen or ringing hammer lays
foundation of a competence.
Luck whines.
Labor whistles.
Luck relies on chances.
Labor on character.
Luck slips down to indigence.
Labor strides upward to
ence.— Watchman.
The Dinner-Horn.
There are several ways of
the same sentiment. For instance,
ron writes.
That all-softening over power knell,
The tocsin of the soul—the tlinner-bll
But the philosopher, Billings, who
bad spelling to set forth good
thus speaks of the hell’s rival:
The dinner-horn iz the oldest
most sakrecl horn thare iz. It iz set
rnusiek and plays ‘Home, Sweet
about noon. It has bin listened
with more rapturous delite than
any band haz, Yu kan hear it
than yu kan one ov Rodman's guns.
will arrest a man and bring him
quicker than a Sheriff's warrant.
kan out foot enny other noize. It
es the deaf tew hear, and the dum tew
shout lor joy. Glorious old
long may yure lungs last!'
Sayings of Little Folks.
A little boy, hearing some one
mark that nothing was quicker tuan
thought, said : ‘I know something
that is quicker than thought/
is it, Johnny?’asked his pa. ‘Whit¬
tling’said Johnny. 'When I was in
school yesterday, 1 whistled before
I thought; and got whipped for it,
toe.’
‘I wish I could mind God as my lit¬
tle dog minds me,’ said a little boy,
looking thoughtfully on his shaggy
friend; ‘he always looks so pleased to
rnind, and I don’t.’
“Marion,’ he asked, in that style
which a big brother assumes when
patronizing a little sister. ‘Marion,do
you know that the earth turns round?
‘Of tos I does,’ answered Marion, res
enting the imputation of ignorance;
‘that’s the reason I tumbles out
bed.‘
M)an,‘ said a four-year-old, give rae
five cents to buy a monkey/ ‘We
have one monkey in the house now/
said the elder brother. ‘Who is it,
3an?‘ ‘You/ was the reply. ‘Theu
give me five cents to buy the monkey
some nuts/ The brother could not
resist.— Exchange.
Dahlonega Signal: A moat dis
tiessin S occurrence happened about
°"e-f>alf mile East of McDonald on
Tuesday of last week. Mr. Rob¬
ert Dorton. an old resident of this
county > was the prime actor m the un
Ho had been labor.
u ' s under mental aberration for some
tlme . but not to such an extent as to
alarm his friends. Rising from the
breakfast table on the morning of the
day stated above he informed his wife
that it was the last meal he would eat
WI,h her. and gearing up his mule
wt ' nt to ‘bo field to plow. About 10
o’clock his son, who was working near
by, missed him, and, upon inrestiga
lion, found (hat he had entered a very'
thick swamp at the lower part of the
field. Making his way through the
briers and underbrush in the direction
ins father went, he had almost despair
ed finding him> wherij upon turni
into the darkest and densest portion of
tiie tbic k et> he came suddenly upon
b .,d y 0 f his father banging from a
°
vviiIow sap |j tl ^ j t seerns ( iat he had
tak ^ }lls plow . lilie and climl)i
into jibe ireo, carefully adjusted J the
„ noose and deliberately , ... . , hung himself. .
corner was immediately notified,
a j u D’ impaimeled, aud a verdict ren
red in accordance with the above
Licts. He leaves a wife and several
einldren to mourn his loss. His re¬
mains were interred at Locust Grove
the following day.
Skyrockets were recently qu >ted
an upward tendency.
NO. 32.
WIT AMD HUMOR.
Fine clothes do not make the man
until they are paid for.
The man who went beyond the lim¬
its of the law took a trip to Texas.
Whirled without end: The waters
of Niagara into Lake Ontario.
No Irishman has a sinking of the
heart so long as there’s a lit or Cork
in him.
Does a stolen hen lay poached eggs T
Ex. Dunno! If you buy a hen,
does she lay buy-led eggs?
The Pniladelphia Item’s detective
tinds that male hairdressers often dy#
old maids.
Necessity must be the mother of in¬
vention, but laziness is certainly the
father of it.
“Ton follow the legal profession, l
believe sir ?’’ Lawyer pompous :—
“No, sir, I lead it/
Advice to some would-be wits: ‘A
little wisdom now and then is [relished
by most foolish men/
Better bare feet and contentment
therewith than patent leather boots
and a corn ou each toe.
One evidence that the Egyptian
desert was once a sea is that you’ll
find a pyramid the sand hills.
We always have our suspicion of a
man who invariably takes his soda
from the other side of the fountain.
It doesn't do to look squint-eyed
at a m in with a pistol iu Texas, UQ«
less you prefer to look like a porous
plaster.
“Man wants but little here below, w
wherever he may roam, and when he
calls for lager beer lie wants but little
foam.
A Syracuse man, says the Sunday
Timos, of that city, thinks his wife a
righteous woman because she is never
forsaken—by her mother.
A French newspaper the other day
had the following heading iu its police
intelligence : “Suicide of two persona*;
statement of the one that survived/ 1
It seems remarkable that a nice,
easy chair at home is so much less
comfortable to a man than the hard
side of a dry-goods box on a street
corner with a crowd of loafers around.
“Papa, they don‘t have any stone in
Ireland, do they V asked a little boy
the other day. ‘Yes, my boy; but
why do you ask su?h a question ?*—
‘Because, papa, I thought it was all
sham-rock over there/
Several boys weeding onions in
Southport were prostrated by a stroke
of lightning. Boys whose father’s own
onion bods should cut this out and
past it in their father’s hats.
“Give me your hand,” said the viU
Inge school-master steruly. ‘‘And my
heart, too/’ she meekly replied. Being
pretty, her soft answer effectually
turned away his wrath, aad the wed¬
ding soon.
A witty lady was once told by a gen¬
tleman of her acquaintance that “he
must have been born with a silver
spoon iu bis month.*' She looked at
him carefully, and, ’upon realing the
size of his mouth, replied : “I don't
doubt it; but it must have been 3
soup-ladle.
“This,* 1 said the dentist, /; is my
office/ ‘And that ?’ inquired a visi¬
tor, pointing to the apartment where
stood the footh-puPing chair. ‘*Ab,
that,* replied the proprietor, ‘that is
mp drawing room.'
‘I‘m infernally disgusted with m-y
vti'e—taai/s the long and short of it/
‘What's wrong now ? Has site been
kicking up any new capers 1* 'No,
I wouldn't stand that—she keeps ou
repeating her old ones.