Newspaper Page Text
CJjr JHrDnffic Journal,
18 PUBLISHED WEEKLY
—A T—
THOMSON. <3rJ±.,
—B Y
J. E. WHITE & CO.
BTJSINESS OABPS.
>. QlTYjrw*
75 Jackson Street, Augusta, Georgia,
Opposite Catholic Church,
DEALER IM
FRUIT MD SEG&RS,
Wholesale and Retail.
GENERAL RAILROAD NEWS AGENT.
Headquarters foi*
Prize Candies, and all sorts of Christmas
Goods.
*8" All orders from Country Merchants,
or orders left with News Agents on the train
will meet prompt attention.
Oct. 8, 1878. ly
F J PRIDHAM
HOUSE & SIGH PRINTER,
AND
INTERIOR DECORATOR,
ACDKESS HIM AT
Aug. 20, 6m Thomson, Oil.
IMPORTER * NI) DEALER IN
WINES, ALES,
JKJI CB, pORTERS,
Cigars, Etc. 1
Corner i it ml Jack- i
Non Street,
AUGUSTA, GA.
May 7 • ts
PAUL C. HUDSON
ATTIIRNKY AT LAW,
TUouron, <ia.
Prompt attention given to all busi
ness entrusted to his care.
March 12. Cm
VAL ME R H 0 USE.
(Over Bignon A Crump's Auction Store,)
#B4 Broad Street, Augusta, Georgia.
J. I. PALMER, Proprietor.
Good board furnished by the week, month
or day.
April 9 8 m
R, W. H. NEAL,
ATTUHNKY AT LAW,
THOMSON, GA.
Ornct —Over J. H. Montgomery's Store.
CHARLES S. DuBOSE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
WARiI NTON. GA.
Will practice in the courts of the
Northern, Middle and Augusta Circuits.
H. C.. RONEY,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
THOMSON GA.
tar Will practice in the Augusta, North
ern and Middle Circuits. nolyl
WALTON CLARKE & CO.
Wholesale Grocers
—AND —
Commission Merchants.
IVo MOtf, UroH<l Ktrc<‘.t,
Jan. 22, -ly. AUGUSTA, GA.
Central si]oicl
BY
MRS. W. M. THOMAS,
AUGUSTA. GEORGIA
seplltf
0. B. Wilkerson & Cos.,
-mechanics and carpenters,
prepared to execute promptly
. and ea.i‘l sfactorilT, all kinds of Oarpen
ferine Wood Work and Iron Work.—
Will trail'd and repair Gins, Ac.
Orders addressed to them at Thomson,
tGa will meet prompt attention.
Oct. 7. ts
Row is the time
To get yonr Winter Hats.
MRS. WOBBILL
has received the finest and best assorted
Stock of Millinery goods and Novelties ever
brought to Thomson, consisting in part of
Ladies, Missed and Children’s Hats and
Bonnets; „
Old Ladies’ Bonnets anfl Ca P s > Flowers
and Plnmea of all kinda;
Laee Collars. Mourning Colla* s; , T
Blaek and White Lace, of all wiehJ 18 »
Ruffs for the neck. Silk Ties *
Ribbons in every color;
Crape and Love Veils;
Hair Braids, and Switches :
Jet Bracelets. Jet Setts, Coronets;
Velveteens, of all colors. Silk Velvet;
Velvet Ribbon and a great variety of
goods not mentioned.
Call and examine before buying,
I am sure you will be pleased in price
and quality, Oct. 15, 1873, 3m
Medical Notice.
DR. G. W. DURHAM announces to
his patrons and the public that he
is now prepared to attend promptly to
all professional calls to the country,
October 22, 1873. ts
NOTICE.
j\_LL those indebted to ua will please call
,on Mr. John E Benton, who has onr books
in and is authorized to close up our
business. Cotton taken in settlement at
15 cts. for Liverpool Middlings, and lower
grades in proportion.
SHIELDS & MORRIS.
Oct. 29, 1873, ts
<riuj Utedslg Journal.
VOLUME HI—NUMBER 44.
I HENRY KENNEDY,
! KENTUCKY
[LAGER BEER SALOON,
Next door to Kentucky Stables,
Eroad St,, near the Upper Market,
AUGUSTA. GA.
Nov. 5, 1873. c m
C. E. DODD. H. L> MEALING.
c. E. DODD & CO„
! HAVE REMOVED TO 219 BROAD ST.,
Opposite the Central Hotel,
AUGUSTA, GA.
Call and see our Styles of
MEN’S
BOYS’
AND
CHILDREN’S
HATS.
November 5, 1873. 6m
BRVIMEMEIi’S
LADIES’ BITTERS,
Mannfactured by
i^jßß
282 BROAD ST„ AUGUSTA, GA.
Rectifiers, Redistiilers, Importers and
Wholesale Dealers in
FURU EYE
Corn Whiskies.
FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC LIQUO S,
Brandies,
Wines,
Gin,
Rum,
Porter,
Alo,
Etc.
Also a .Superior Article of
LADIES’ BITTERS.
£3TTobaer*o and Scg.irs of every variety.
January 20, 1 L'. :‘>tn.
r r
XHE Guide is published Quarterly.—
25 cents pays for the year, which is not half
the co.,t. Those who afterwards send mon
ey to the amount of one dollar may also or
der 25 cents worth extra—the price for the
Guide. The first number is beautiful, giv
ing plans for making Rural Homes, Dining
Table Decorations, Window Gardens, Ac.,
and a mass of information invaluable to the
lover of flowers. 150 pages on fine tinted pa
per some 500 engravings, and a superb col
ored plate, andChrorao Cover.
“The first edition of 200,000 printed in Eng
lish and Germrn.
JAMES VICK, Rochester, N. Y.
March 12
Columbia Institute,
Tlio niMon, Ga.
T
• HR Fall Term begins on Monday, the
18th of August, and closeß on Friday, the
28th of November. For particulars ap
ply to .T. W. SHANK,
July 30. 3m Teacher in Charge,
DR. HOLLAND,
1 > E IV T I S T .
Con be found at his Operating Room in
Thomson. Ga.. on the first Monday in each
month, where he will remain two weeks, or
more except in “cases of sickness.” ar.gTtf,
WORKERS WANTED
—FOR—
WOOD’S HOUSEHOLD MAGAZINE,
which, with its Premiums, is one of the
most attractive in the country,
Price of Magazine.
! One Dollar ;i Year.
'"’omm’ssions liberal, offering a lucrative
sn( , " a ' able business to those willing to
give it propei a **' eD '-'on.
Vol. XIII, begins Tu1 T> 1873 ’
Examine our Clubbing and t “Smium Lists
Two first-cless periodicals for l ne P nce
of one.
•ST For specimen Magazine and further
information, Address.
WOOD’S HOUSEHOLD M’OAZINE,
S. E. SHUTES, Pub. Newburgh, N, Y.
August 0, 1873. ts
THECHEAP VARIETY!
STOFinJ.
The Latest Styles of Fall and Winter j
Millinery on Exhibition
AND FOR SALE BY
MRS. A. J. ADKINS,
THOMSON, - - - GEORGIA.
N. B.—A full line of Ladies’ Underwear
and Notions of every description. The La
dies are respectfully invited to call and ex
amine the goods. Oct. 8. ts
Thomson, mcduffie county, ga, November 12,1873.
POETICAL.
Uncle Jo.
I have in memory a little story,
That few indeed would rhyme about but
me;
Tis not of love, nor fame, nor yet of glory,
Although a little colored with the three—
In very truth, I think as much, perchance,
As most tales disembodied from romance.
Jo lived about the village, and was neighbor
To every one who had hard work to do;
If he possessed a genius, ’twas for labor,
Most people thought, but there were one
or two
\V ho sometimes said, when he arose to go ;
“Come in again and see us, Uncle Jo!”
The “Uncle” was a courtesy they gave—
And felt they could afford to give to him—
Just as the master makes of some good slave
An Aunt Jemima, or an Uncle Jim:
And of his dubious kindness Jo was glad—
Poor fellow, it was all he ever had !
! A mile or so away he had a brother—
A rich, proud man that people didn’t hire :
But Jo had neither sister, wife, nor mother,
And baked his corncoke at his cabin fire
After the day work, hard for you or me,
j But he was never tired—how could he be ?
i They called him dull, but ho had eyes of
quickness
For cveryliody r that ho could befriend :
Said one mid all, “jftow kind he is in sick
ness,”
But there, of course, his goodness had an
end.
Another praise there was, might havo been
g- ell >
For one or motto days out of every seven—
With his old pickaxe, swung across his
shoulder,
And downcast eyes, and slow and sober
tread—
lie sought the place of graves and each be
holder
| Wondered and asked each other who was
dead;
But he digged all day, and nobody thought
That he had done a w hit more than he ought.
At length, one winter when tlio sunbeam
slanted
Faintly and cold across the cliurch-yard
snow,
The bell tolled out—alas! a grave was
wanted,
And all looked anxiously for Uncle Jo ;
His spade stood there, against his own roof
tree,
There was his pickaxo, too, but where was
he?
They called and called again but no replying;
Smooth at the window and about the
door,
The snow in cold and heavy drifts was ly
ing—
l e didn't need the daylight any more.
One shook him roughly, and another said ;
“As I rue as preaching, Uncle Jo is dead!”
And when lhey wrapped him in linen, fairer
Aud finer, too, than he had worn till then,
They found a picture—haply of the sharer
Os sunny hope sometimes ; or where or
when,
They did not cara/to know', but closed his
eyes
Ai-d placed it in the coffin where lie lies!
None wrote his epitaph, nor saw the beauty
Os the pure lovo that reached into the
grave,
Nor how in unobtrusive wayß of duty
He kept, despite the dark ; but men less
brave
Have left great names, while not a willow’
bends
Above bis dust—poor Jo, he had no friends!
j SELECT MISCELLANY,
808 AND L
Let me Bee, I wonder liow old I was
when I first knew Bob Dalrymple ?
Certainly I was too young to remember
anything about the first meeting, or what
was said at the introduction. I think
the way it happened was this :
Mrs. Dalrymple having done nil her
chores for the afternoon, thought she
would carry Bob over to see Mrs. Camp’s
new baby, and after a short walk across
lots, she entered the kitchen door and
found the way to my mother’s room,
where I lay in the cradle, looking at life
with great gray eyes, and fighting fate
with little fat fists, and there Bob saw
me, and wondered then, perhaps, as he
did many times afterward, why I could
not let well enough alone, and not tire
| myself with efforts after anew position.
1 This much I surmise from the fact that
| it was like Mrs. Dalrymple, and although
| neither Bob nor I could give the date of
| our first meeting, our acquaintance must
: have began sometime, and did, very early
in our history.
Mrs. Dairy tuple's farm and father’s lay
side by side, and Bob and I. never gave
‘lie grass a chance to grow upon tho
path irhi'Hx was terminated by the kitchen
door 0 f tf lo red farm i’ouse at one end
and our white doorstep at the oJher,
He always came for rnc on his way Jo
school, aud in winter drew mo thltlior on
his little sled, while I held the books and
our bright tin lunch pail, wherein was
stowed the rosy apples I had warmed by
the fire, packed firm by Bob’s hickory
nuts, and covered with two pieces of pie
and a couple of sandwiches; for our
lunches were always united and Bob’s re
packed daily at our house,
The old school house was far from be
ing air-tight, and often tee snow drifted
in under doors and windows, and our
breaths filled the room with clouds of
white vapor, which Bob called smoke
from red chimneys ; and when I cried
because my hands ached with cold he
rubbed them, aud talked the tears away,
and then covered them with his red mit
tens “ cause they looked warm,” blow
ing at his own hands with great philoso
phy as he went back to his bench in the
cold comer.
But we enjoyed our school days, not
withstanding the cold. At recess we
snow-balled each other, and built forts
and snow men, and when it was stormy
we 6at by the stove and ate our lunch
eon and talked or told stories, while,
outside, the wind roared through the tall
trees, and swept down from the hills in
great gusts piling the snow in deep drifts.
In summer we played by the little
river, and gathered wild flowers and
moss, and sometimes Bob got up long
before onr early breakfast time to catch
trout for me, while I cooked ginger snaps
for him under mother's supervision.
But the year brought changes. Fre
mont grew and flourished. Squire Ellis
saw in our little river more tliau sweet
music and romantic beauty, aud ho re
solved to turn its strong current to his
advantage and turn the water into yellow
gold. To this end he built a large facto
ry upon tho river bank, and all day wo
heard the > whirr of large wheels and
small, and soon Fremont was converted
into a thriving manufacturing village.
Bob and I had not stood still mean
while. While Squire Ellis was gazing
from tho little bridge into the river
thinking out his* idea, and while the
workmen hnmUtored and tho great build
ing rose slowly, Bob and I grow too, and
when tlio factory was completed and ap
plicants for employment were arriving
from near and far, Bob, a stromr. broad
ohouldcred boy of nineteen, obtaiued his
latner a permission to leave tho farm
work and was enrolled among the factory
hands.
The evening after all was arranged, I
had finished milking, and was filling my
bright pans in the cellar singing to my
self, when I heard a step on the walk,
and Bob’s voice called me :
“Mollic, where are you?”
“Here, down in the cellar,” I an
swered. “I'll be spry.”
“I’ll wait,” he said.
I ran up to my little mirror to see if
my hair was all right, and then sat down
by bis sido on the door step.
He was looking away off, beyond the
doorway to the hills which shut in Fre.
mont from the world, and his face was
serious.
It was a handsome face I thought
then, sunburned it is true, but with fine
regular features, clear brown eyes, and
firm sot red lips.
He told me of what he had done, of
his bright hopes of advancement and of
the happy future in store, and I shined
his enthusiasm and believed him to be,
as he thought himself, every inch ft man.
He went to the factory the next day*
and in a week orotwo I went away for
the two years at a boarding school, which
had been promised me.
I did not sec Fremont nor Bob until
my school days were completed, and I
came back one bright Juno day to my
home.
A large hotel stood opposite the village
green, and upon the grass in front a
group of city people played croquet.
Squire Ellis had used part of his gold
flowing river to build an elegant house
on the hill, and surrounded it with
pleasant grounds. The old church was
remodeled and newly painted and the
little school house boasted a cupola and
a bell. I was surprised and very much
pleased, for these improvements suited
my taste ; and had I not returned an ac
complished young lady, full of ambitious
projects ? No one could expect me to
put on my calico dress without a sigh,
and forget the days that had passed,
since I was a simple country girl.
Mother met me at the gate withawarm
welcome, which made me glad to he
home again. Father was in the field, she
said, he had to work very hard now. It
did not occur to me then that my school
bills and new clothes had caused him to
work longer than formerly. I only no
ticed that the house needed paint and
looked shabby when compared with
neighbor Jones’ across the street, which
was newly fitted up and brightened by a
coat of brown.
Mother’s fresh, puffy biscuit, and
frosted cake were splendid, and the straw
berries and rich cream put mo in a good
humor, and I smiled pleasantly when
father kissed me and said he had missed
me sorely, and was glad to havo me home
“ for a spell when ho supposed I might
move across lots,” glancing in the direc
tion of the Dalrymple homestead, with a
merry twinkle in his eyes, not knowing
that I had risen above such humble ideas
of happiness, and looked for horses and
carriages and a city home.
My opportunity came sooner than I
thought, Emiite Norton, my room-mate
at school, wrote to her brother, who was
boarding at the hotel, concerning me,
and he managed to get aii introduction
and called. Young Ellis saw me at
church, and called in his new buggy
drawn by a span of spirited bays, Bob
came too, but Ed. Norton was spending
the evening, and I treated him rather
TERMS-TWO DOLLARS W ADVANCE,
coldly, and mentally compared his bronz
ed face with Ed. ’s girl-like complexion,
much to the disadvantage of the former,
and felt it my duty to entertain Ed. Nor
ton solely, leaving Bob to talk with
mother, for Ed. was a stranger and knew
only me, while Bob felt at home in our
house.
It was very inconvenient to have to run
up stairs and change my dress every time
I saw Mr. Norton coming up the lane, or
heard the quick clatter of hoofs as Will
Ellis turned the corner, but I bore it
with patience, comforting myself with
the thought that it would not be so al
ways, that some day I would bid final
adieu to calico and home work, and then
for happiness.
Mother did not like my new acquain
tances, but then shewasveryold-fasliion
ed, and had not seen the world as I had.
Bob did not express his opinion, but did
not come very often, he was so busy at
the factory, for he filled an important po
sition now and did not get home until
long after the great wheels were stopped
at sundown, but staid to write business
letters to every part of the country.
Every morning I washed the dishes
with my hair in crimping pins, my dress
forlorn enough, and my pretty face,
which was to make my fortune, dark and
ugly with ill temper.
Every afternoon, with my hair ar
ranged in tho most becoming style, my
dress all that ingenuity and pretty rib
bons could make it, smiling and agreea
ble, I played croquet with the Norton
set, or drove out behind the gay ponies
with Ellis, in spotless white suit, jaunty
hat, and flesh colored kids by my side,
while nearly every evening found one or
tho other of my escorts in our little par
lor, and when Bob came, as he did only
twice, he found himself one too manv.
un.l lad o—l.
‘ y -
So tlio summer passed and the autumn
came with its rich clusters and gorgeous
colors, and I walked in the moonlight
with Ed. Norton, and gave him glance
for glance, and he praised my brown
hair, and cut off a little, tying it with
the stems of forget-me-nots he wore in
his button-hole, and saying soft, pretty
things which kept mo awake half the
night.
Then he went away, and two weeks
after I received a New York paper, with
a pencil line drawn around the announce
ment :
“On ilie 20th inst., at the residence of
the bride’s parents, by Rev. St. John
Montague, I). D., assisted by Rev. Ar
thur Mooreland, Edward Norton to Ella
Van Dyne, only daughter of Hon. John
Van Dyne, Esq., of New York.”
I cried all day after reading it and re
fused to lie comforted. I thought I
could never he happy again. I fasted
unlil I became sick, then lay in my little
white bed, and made myself miserable.
If was mean, dishonorable, no true gen
tlemen would have done so, and I, poor
ambitious child, had hec-n cruelly de
ceived, and my card palace swept down
t by ruthless hands.
Bob sent ine grapes and juicy pears,
hut he never came himself.
I thought a good deal, as I lay alone,
while mother worked down stairs ; I was
terribly disappointed and my hopes laid
faded and died, as did the leaves of the
maple tree jus; outside my window ; but
it was not always of violet eyes and
silken whiskers I thought then. The
old times before I went away came back
to me, when Bob used to come for me in
the old buggy, and we were so happy
and gay when old roan’s steady jog trot
was none too slow, and the many bumps
of the springs only afforded new amuse
ment, when the skies were so wonder
fully bine, and the berries so sweet,
which Bob gathered by tho roadside,
and all life a summer’s day.
Why didn’t people call him Robin ?
Bob was so commonplace, and then he
called me Mollie aDd I hated it so. Ed.
Norton had said I looked like the beau
tiful Queen of Scots, and should have
been christened Marie Stuart, and had
written Marie over and over on the fly
leaf of my hymn book. I cried a little
at the remembrance. If Bob would only
say such things, but he was so old
fashioned. I had watched him leading
his mother to the pew the last Sunday I
was at church, carrying her antique
parasol and gigantic fan, as if they were
his sweetheart’s, and Will Ellis had
glanced and smiled at me, and I had
laughed behind my fan as if highly
amused. I hoped Bob had not seen the
performance, though our eyes met a
moment afterwards, and he gravely in
clined his head as I bowed stiffly, for
Will was looking, aud his face had the
same expression as when he called
Bob “ one of the factory hands,”
ono day when we met him, and
I recognized him,' and Will said it
was beautiful condescension in me, and
I had stammered and blushed a half
apology instead of resenting his scornful
speech concerning the truest, noblest
man I had ever known.
I became tired of moping in bed after
a day or two, and in order to give me
something to think of, mother sent me
with a message to old Mrs. Brown, who
lived a little out of the village.
I hurried past the factory for fear Bob
should join me, though after my treat
ment of hip) I don’t see why I expected
it. Mrs. Brown was very happy to have
someone to talk to, and poured out a
long string of complaints which I did not
hear at all, but sat by the window,
watching the road for a dashing bay
tear- ! light buggy, with my thoughts
far s'.'; At last X gave up all hopes
of a . 3 home, and bidding Mrs.
Bror 1 afternoon, started upon my
solita k.
I did feel strong, and presently I
sat down upon a log by the roadsid to
rest, and leaned my head upon my
hand, in deep thought.
“Can I do anything for yon ?”
It was Bob’s voice, and I looked up to
meet his clear, brown eyes and grave
face. It was always grave now. He
had not called me by name, but had
spoken as to a stranger.
“This walk would not have tired you
once,” ho said.
“I have changed,” I replied bitterly.
“Is it for the better, Moliie ?” he ask
ed very gently.
“No, no,” I answered brokenly, cov
ering my face with my hands.
He sat beside me upon the log, and I
knew that tender loving words were very
near his lips.
Just then I heard a quick clatter of
horses’ hoofs, and caught a glimpse of
bright harness through the trees. I
would not wash dishes all my life, nor
bo the wife of a factory hand.
I raised my head quickly and with a
blush arose. “I must go,” I said.
Bob’s brow darkened.
“I beg your pardon for intruding,”
he said, coldly, and raising his hat he
walked rapidly on.
Will Ellis reined the bays, and in an
instant stood beside me.
“You are tired ; may I have the plea.
Bure of taking you home ?”
Os course, I assented, and we passed
Bob in u moment. His head was bowed,
and I do not think he saw us at all.
That evening father came in white and
trembling. There had been an accident
at the factory, he said. Ike Jones had
been killed, and poor Bob was so terri
bly injured that the doctor thought he
must die.
I mother screamed nor fainted ; I did
not even cry, though every other girl in
Fremont did. I went out and sat on the
door step where Bob and I had sat to
gether, and I gazed across the meadows
lo the Dalr/mple homestead with wild
eyes, and felt as if my heart had indeed
turned to stone.
I saw them carry a dark body, covered
with a shawl to hide his distorted face
and mangled limbs from sight. I heard
Mrs. Jones shriek as it was borne across
the threshold of the house opposite ; but
I never moved until night had fallen,
and then my strong brother Tom carried
mo to my room.
What I suffered during the long weeks
which followed, when Bob’s life hung
trembling in the balance, can be imagined
rather than described ; and when mother
came home from the Dalrymples’ and
told me that Bob was going to get well,
she said I looked as pale and thin as he,
and petted mo as if I was a child again,
and|l cr ; with my head in her lap, and
felt b<
I w until half the people in the
villag i an Bob, and then - I could
wait n and one snowy afternoon
I ran a Ihe lots and knocked at the
door of ti e l farm house.
There was no answer, so I entered and
passed to the sitting room to find Mrs.
Dalrymple. I did not want to speak to
Bob, only to peep through the doorway
and see him, to convince myself that he
was still alive ; then to ran home to sob
out my thanks to God, alone. This was
my plan, but I did not follow it.
Bob lay on the chintz covered lounge,
gazing sadly out at the snow; all the
sunburn had long ago left his face, and
he was terribly thin and white, his
cheeks were hollow and his eyes were
sunken.
A great lump came up ihto my throat,
and I turned to go away, when he sighed
long and wearily as if he was so very sad
and lonely, and I could bear it no longer.
In an instant I was on my knees by his
side, crying as if my heart would break.
“Why, Moliie, my dear little Moliie,”
he said joyfnlly.
I told him all, why I had slightedhim,
and how my wicked, silly pride had
come between us, while he smoothed my
hair with his thin hand, and called me
by every loving name he could think of.
“So, Moliie will be the wife of a fac
tory hand after all,” he said, when I
arose to go home, and I kissed his white
forehead and said yes, and so we made
it up.
I met Mrs. Edward Norton at cousin
May’s wedding, with diamonds in her
hair, and rich lace enveloping her like a
cloud, and did not envy, her at all;
and when I watched Will Ellis escort
Saliie Tremaine home from church kst
Sunday, I looked from him to my tall,
noble-looking husband, and wondered
how I ever could have put him between,
Bob and me.
The most unhappy person in the
world is the Dyspeptic. Everything
looks dark and gloomy ; he feels “out of
sorts” with himself and everybody else.
Life is a burden to him. This can all
bo changed by taking Peruvian Syrup (a
protoxide of Iron). Cases of 27 years’
standing have been cured by it.
Advertising Rales.
One square, first insertion $ i 00
Each subsequent insertion 75
One square three months 10 90
Onesqaresix months 15 00
One square tvelve months 20 00
One quarter column twelve months. 40 00
Half colnmn six months 60 00
Half column twelve months 75 00
One column twelve months..., 126 00
a nes or * ess cons i<i er ed a square
All fractions of squares counted as squares
WISE AND OTHERWISE.
Barnum’s big tent is soon to be spread
over Rhode Island.
Kansas eSinologists are discussing
whether the Kaw Indians are related to
the Crow tribe.
A Southern paper says that Bartow
County has turned out eighteen minis
ters since the war. It does not state
what they were turned out for.
An Indiana lawyer lately defended a
man for keeping open his saloon after
ten o’clock at night. He plead that it
was ten o’clock until eleven, and won the
case.
News was sent to Mr. Bamtun, written
on the back of a card, by the elephant
trainer,|and read as follows : “Mr. Bar
num, one of the elifants are ded. He
dyed us enfurmation.”
It is said that Chicago will offer a
oorner lot in the burnt district, the free
dom of the crib out in the lake, and a
yearly c irorce, to the man who shall get
up a directory to beat St. Louis.
Old John Robinson admits news boys
free to his circus. He finds about a
thousand “news boys” in every little vil
lage, and he thinks now that the Press
is getting to be the biggest thing in the
world.
It is said that the Nebraska Indians
are allowed to ride free on all trains they
can jump on while the train is in motion.
The tribe is being reduced very rapidly.
This is by all odds the most effective and
economical system of dead-headihng on
record.
Springfield, Tonn., chronicles some
thing little short of a miracle in the
conversion of a deputy sheriff during a
recent “revival.”
Smith and Jones were at the me
nagerie, and tile conversation turned on
Darwin’s theory. “Look at that mon
key,” said Smith; “think of its being an
undeveloped human!” “Human?” said
Jones, contemptuously ; “it’s no more
human than I am.”
They have a judge in Kansas who fined
a lawyer for Baying sio transit. The
official thought it was swearing and
indignantly remarked that nobody
should “sick” him. in that court.
Tins is just a trifle personal, but it’s
the way they put such things out West.
A St. Lonis editor, in speaking of m
brother writer, says: “Ho is young yet,
but ho can sit at the desk and brush the
cobwebs from the ceiling with his ears.’*
What agonies must that poet have
endured who, writing of his love, asserted
in his manuscript that he “kissed her
under the silent stars,” and found the
compositor had made him declare that he
“kicked her under the cellar stairs.”
The editors of Kansas are about to
make a visit to Lincoln, Neb., and the
citizens of the latter place are making
preparations to give them a formal re
ception at the penitentiary.
Pennsylvania proposes to make its
legislators perjure themselves at the end
of each session l»y swearing that they
have neither taken a bribe nor anything
else that didn’t belong to them.
An Elm street boy, while under the
painful hallucination that he was a
Modoc, buried a pinheaded arrow in his
father’s leg, on Saturday, very much to
the surpriso of the individual. The old
gentleman recovered sufficiently, how
ever, to impress this scion with the belief
that be bad actually sat on a lava bed.
A mild and affectionate wife in Lan
caster, Pa., overheard an acquaintance
remark that her husband was too fond of
100. She waited up for him that night,
and when he came home demanded to
know if he had been spending his time
with 100. The unsuspecting husband
admitted that he had, when, without
giving him time to explain, she went for
him with a fire shovel. The husband
does not remember how the interview
ended, but could never convince his wife
that 100 was a game at cards; and he
always plays euchre now and gets home
before ten o’clock.
A gentleman in Kansas had a reception
at his house the other evening, and when
the guests went away it took him all
night to wash the tar and pick the
feathers off his person.
A spread eagle orator of N. Y. State
wanted the wings of the bird to fly to every
town and county, to every village and
hamlet in the broad land ; yet he wilted
when a naughty boy in the crowd sang
out, “You’d be shot for a goose before
you had flew a mile,”
An organization of capitalists
ported to be forming in North CJajoliha
to carry pine products to the highest :
pitch. A sort of tar-get company with
firaims, 1
An lowa doctor last week thoughtlessly
lanced a pimple on a patient’s nose with
his vaccinating lancet. It took beauti
fully, but the patient says that both for
appearance and comfort he would almost
as leave have small pox.
A round-shouldered and inquisitiy
stranger kicked an ornamental dog on a
street stoop, to see if it was solid or hol
low. It was not an ornamental dog,
however, but one that was there on busi
ness, and the round-shouldered and in
quisitive stranger is now quarantined
with an aunt.