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iMi Wsek’y JramLj Subscription SI.OO A Year. j An X orp site your iksme that youi j ifi t 4l>out o exp .re, *nd, it not ri j Mired your piper will be cLscjmliided. , !?o leg 1 Adver will b inserted tut j lo&s paid foe in advauc •. The Editor is not reqx>mible for the state ! men is or opin on* of Corre*pondeni&. IBo3rci Sz Barnes No. § Brick Row , Thomson, Ga. (Former Dry Good* stand of D. F. Irving.) To incut the demands of our enlarged business, we have removed to the above named stand, and are now receiving in largo quantities our Stock of Fall and Winter Gr cds, conals-tiDg of Clothing, Dry Goods Hats, Boots and Shoes, Notions, etc., etc. Also, a select stock of Family Croceri&s, Meal, Corn, Flour, Molasses, Sugar, Coflee, And all other goods tn tho Grocery Line. We also carry a full line of HARDWARE and CROCKERY which we invite you to inspect. A call will satisfy you that we oau sell you goods cheaper than thoy can be bought elsewhere. BOYD& BARNES. NEW STORE! NEW GOODS! J. T. WRIGHT & SON. est ZMIaAn St., 'l’homson^a. DEAT KRS IN S3by Cqoos * lAhess Gqqos\ IT.nrs v Caps* Hoots a* & Shops* U a *icy Kaii|ily Gii'oceries and Heavy Goods. Hardware, Glassware Wooden ware, Crockery ware. TflßifrO aud Cl ti A US of all qualities. 3 x A full Stock of CANNED GOODS. If you ara in nfpii of Retiring in our line it will bo to xoar interest to call and get our prices before purchasing. EEMEMBEE Our Stock of Goods is Fresh and Our Prices are the Very Lowest. OUR MOTTO: ITPOLITR AND COURTEOUS ATTENTION TOALL CALLERS, WHETHER PURCHASERS OR NOT. ' •I. r l\ Wriglit Sl Non. THOMAS. N. JuEWIS No. 4 Brick RoW, Thomson, Qa, ftRY GOODS, DRESS GOODS, NOTIONS, BOOTS and SHOES and HATS. 1 carry a Lurye ami Select Stock- of First-Clans G-rocsries, —CONSISTING OF Bacon, Flour, Meal, Lard Sugar, Coffee, Molasses, Tobacco. ALSO PLOWS, SHOVELS, HOES and all Farming Implements. G. W. IIOLZENDORF. PETER S. KNOX New Family Grocery IIOLZKNDDKF <& K>OX Railroad Street, * Thomson, Qa W ILL KEEP CONSTANTLY IN STOCK CHOICE AND SELECT LINES OF Bacon, Floor, Meal, Salt, Sugar, Coffee, Canned Goods, Tobacco Cigars, etc. A FULL LINE OF CONFECTIONERIES, and ALL KINDS OF FRUITS and VEGETABLES IN SEASON. By strict attention to business. fair and square dealing and bottoim prices wo hope to merit and receive u liberal etare of patronage, BOZEKWOftF & KWOJ* irriEßcniß, Cottoo Factor li Gsneral tai* Morctet, 3 Warren IJlock. AUGUSTA, GEORGIA tB give Personal and Undivided AtteUto* to ** Weighing and NEt Gotten. Catb.AclwwtfWv**** * €I)C ilU*Pitftic HedUtj Journal. VOL. XVII l. THOMSON, GA., FRIDiV, MARCH S!l, 1890 E. R. SCHNEIDER, —W&OLIBALI AID RETAIL DKALIB Ilf Wines, Cigars, Brandies, Tobacco, Mineral Waters, WHISKIES, GINS, PORTER, ALE, &C. 601 and 802 Broad Street, Anguata, Georgia. AGENTS FOR fern Clipfs Pusartin, Drtaa Wine tap?. Msm-BbS BREWING ASSOC LATIGXv SCHOOL BOOKS I J- T. NEAL, A T '*• will k-“P constantly on hand . .elected stock of senool bcok. "E . " latlon *' r 7. fsooy box ~|ier, nut. .graph ulbwo.s, photograph albums, lemorLbt be I leg * 1 “ , “ nk, ‘ lwl K < ’ ra . ,l ? I>0”k8, pocket Ivoks aud ° { • kln, n’ * Ut * cray-n. '“t. IOU", *>:• Will receive aud ' * u b*cnptxjoa tuall newapaper* an<: pfciodiawU at pubhah*-*’ rates. tT. MARK WALTER, MARBLE WORKS BROAD BTRSST. SEAS LOWEP MARKET, AUGUSTA, GEORGIA, Monument;, Tombstone* and Marble Work generally always on hand and nade to order. All work tor the country carefully boxed, and delivered at railroad popot in Augaata, fro# of charge. Specimens of the work can hr at til# manufactory. Sharp Trading. A gentleman, seeing two sharpers, and wishing to know who mdo the best bar gain, asked one: “ llow much did jou sell the horse for, Bam?” “ Five dollars, sir.” “Oh, Bum, bow could you do that?” “Oh, the horse is lame, sir.” The gentleman then said to the other sharper: “How could you buy that horse, Jim? It is lame.” “ Never you mind; it is only the bad shociog that makes it lai pc.” The gentleman then called Sam again: “Sam, the horse is not lamc,ouly badly shod.” “ No, sir; I only had it badly shod to deceive the buyer.” The gentleman spoke to Jim again; “ Say. the shoe was badly put on to de ceive you.” “ You nevermind, sir; I paid him with a counterfeit bill.—[Yankee Blade. The Aged Poet Laureate. Alfred Tennyson smokes a big clay pipe, and never use* the saiae pipe hut once. He dislikes notoriety aud is said to have burned all his letters, so that his future biographer will have n hard time of it writir.g his life. He says he does not propose after he is dead to be “rip ped up like a pig.” To strangers he is surly and even rude, but with congenial spirits the native sunshine of his nature shine" out. He does not believe in poetic inspiration, but believes that all good poetry is the result of hand, patient and persistent work. He lias been known to spend a whole day over a single verse. Neither the blame nor the praise of the public affects him, but he does his work in his own way regardless of the critics. There ere thousands of level-headed poetry lovers who b.lievethat when he dies the great-,t poet of the world will pas away. -[Yankee Blade, THE EASW HOkX), By the road of “By-ar.d-B^* Stretching on forer 4’ Oue who travels ootm &t last To tha house of ‘* N #• f Very tall, and vary hi - , Iron barred secunJV Thostt who enter And tiemsolvo* Guarded very surely | “By-awd-By” ’s an ?nsv roar!; Through soft fields .-.nd inosses, No high hills, no snip!y soil. Anywhere it cro&* 5 If hard places aou‘-> swefm, * Round them winding, Very slowly leading , Smoothest trirWffi i uh< g\ looking on ahea*lfc>m See* But a eofi- mist ftb v ,ng, While on crakes' is~> fcbe scene Ever fair is gf >* Lg. But t here comes An rad, some day, Where oue see* forever, Bark and grlntfthe ii m gates Of the house of *'N ver 1” L THE LOST LETTER BY ANNA PiKttrdji I BIVITEII. “Jimmy!” cnllctiljd rank Hepburn, the handsome young bookkeeper for Wade Brothers. Jimmy tho office i y for the same firm, as is usual ii -<i h cases, did not hear. It is a singular fact, not yet ex plained, that deafness is more prevalent among oliice-boys tin n moag any other olaas of wage-earners. , “Jimmy!” , ' Frank Hepburn ralltd more sharply this time, and 3 v-ny relinquished his favorite occuan ion of draw ing cats with ik ink on the firm's notehcads, and’ ■ owly approached Mr. Hepburn’s stool. “Take this letter re jbe postoffice, and drop it iuto the box ihi'arkud ‘City,’and ho quick, please.” '. Jimmy took the letter, placed it care fully botwuon his teei fwaile he put on his bat and coat; Be then surveyed the snve.ope closely, anti raked: “ What s that mark , the corner for, Mr Hepnurut" I." ' “C ear out, yon nuua! I” laughed the young man, slightly Coloring. “It’s a secret-society sign. Now go!" As the boy passed j from (ho office, Weaver, the cashii , looked up and yawned: “Well, it's irty lunch time,” snd a minute later he was hurrying after tho leisurely Jimmy; - r .t “I'm going past the ijsostoffice, Jim,” he remarked, -a that youth; “give mi: Hepi-pr(:‘i :*tyr and I’ll drop *rn for y<KJr” }• Jimmy, glad of ml. opportunity to en gage in au interesting game of itiarblun lie saw being played round the corner, willingly gave up the letter, and Weaver passed down the street. “Ah, that’s the way the wind blows, Is it?” lie thought, glancing at tho nd dress. “ 'Miss Bertha Willey, 210 Madison avenue.’ 1 thought that that engagement was eutirely broken oft. This dosen't look like it, but I tneau to know for certain.” Weaver hail long been Hepburn’s most persistent rival. The lady in the case was a prize well worth any man’s earnest efforts to win, aud when Trunk Hepburn’s engagement to her was an nounced, noue of her admirers felt lm!f the chagrin that seized Weaver. He had felt almost certain of winning her himself at one tiros, and in the ex pectation of handling her snug fortune had incurred certain debts which, ac cording to the rude fashion of ccbts, were now “staring him in the face.” Great, then, had been his satisfaction whon a report readied him of tho broken engagement, and he immediately called on Miss Willey. Bho received him cordially,ami in tho two succeeding weeks he frequently repeated the call. “I will strike while the iron is hot,” he said to himself, and on this very evo ning had determined to know his fate, when tho sight of Hepburn’s letter upset his plans. “I will know what is in it,” he thought desperately. “I can open it—it's very carelessly sealed. Hepburn can't ccmo between us again, if I can help It 1” Ho hurried home, and holding the envelope over a steaming kettlo in his mother’s kitchen, soon had its coveted contents in his hand. It ran thus: ‘‘Bertha, Dear: I was wrong, and you were rigut. Can t come and be forgiven:' I have a fine business offer from a house in St. Baui; If Xdo not get a avoraols reply from you to-morrow, I snail accept it, and go im m&oately. Life without you is unendurable bore. Frank.” “You will get no answer to-morrow,” Weaver muttered; “andonce safe in the West, my coast is clear. What an idiot, to intrust ail his happiness to a letter! But then, he's so terribly proud; he thought it would hurt his dignity less to write a note than seek an interview.” Via, Weaver was right; Frank was proud, aigl so was Bertha. A trivial; lovers' quarrel had come between them, and Bertha, feeling snro Frank must sec io time ho was wrong, did not try to right herself. Bile would gladly meet him half-way in any effort at reconcilia tion, but farther than that her womanly self-respect would not let her go. Mean time her evenings were lonely, and when Mr. Weaver called, he found her very ready to bo entertained. On the day after Weaver obtained this lottcr, he watched Hepburn narrowly, and saw be waa restless and nervous, and ! by night that he was pale aud weak. The ! next day he did not appear at the office, j aud word came that be was sick. “Packing up for St. Paul,” Weaver sneered to himself, “it’s just nn ex cuse. ” But Frank Hepburn’s was no assumed , illness. “A bad ease of braiu-fovor," the ! doctor said, as he gazed with more than professional interest on tho young man j lying before him. His brown eyes were ! wide open, and restlessly flying xrom one ' face to another, as if in search of one that uever came, whi'w his parched tongue constantly formed the word “Bertha,” gently and pleadingly spoken as long as his strength pertnitted him to utter it. Then, as he became weaker, only a half- : articulate murmur greeted the ears of the anxious watchers who bent above him. “Who is Bertha?” tho physician at last asked the weeping, gray haired mothi# who had come from a distant city to caro for her only son. “Wo-must find her. I have done all I can for his body, but only her coming can relieve his mind.” And, ho added, sofdy, “sho must tome soon.” “If I only knew,” the mother an swered, “how I would fly to her I It is breaking ray heart to face those eager, longing eyes; but I do not know. Among my boj’s papers are several notes signed ‘Bertha,’ but no other name is given, and all nro dated ‘Home.’ Oh, doctor, it is hard to know a woman holds my beautiful boy’s life in her bauds, and I cannot even plead with her for it!” And with a passionate gesture she turned away, At the office, tilings went on as usual. Weaver noticed Frank's desk remained vacant, but said to liimsolf, when the clerks spoke of his illness: “Men don’t die of broken hearts, and j he will recover, cured of his fancy.” Tie could not, however, bring himself *o destroy the stolen letter, but when alone, constantly took it from bis pocket and glanced at it. One day, while doing so, Mr. Wade suddenly entered thi room. Hastily slip ping it under a pilo of bills, Weaver looked up. y “Mr. Weaver,”his employer said, “let me come to your desk. T want to glance over Frank's- papers. I am afraid the poor boy himself xvill never do that again. Sad, isn't it?” And Mr. Ward's kindly voice grew husky. “Is it so bad as that, sir?” Weaver murmured, wlnlo a deadly faintness seized him. “So bad as that, I fear," Mr. Wade-an swered, mechanically taking up a pile of pupera and running over them. Suddenly he exclaimed: •‘Wuut’s this?—a letter written by Frank himself, and never sont?” The pity that a moment ago had filled | Weaver suddenly vanished, and a fierce ! desire to cscapo detection had taken its place. “Why, yes,” ho said; “I remember - Frank intended to invite Miss Willey.to ; tho opera for Thursday, but changed hie j mind, and I suppose did not send tho ! letter. However, lam goimt down to | inquire after him at noon, and if you will give me tho letter, I’ll loave it with his mother.” -- T ‘ Yes, yes," assented Mr. Wade, “that's a good idea.” - 'But ho still belli it in his hand, while Weaver could hardly retain his desire to snatch it away. 1 “If I got the cursed thing in ray own “lend once;” he thought, “it will neq, >- be | seen again." Just then Jimmy entered. Catching | sight of the letter in Mr. Wilde's hand, i he exclaimed: “Why, Mr. Weaver, you didn’t mail i that letter that day!” Weaver turned pale. 1 “You don’t know what you’re talking i about,” lie said, as Mr. Wade glanced up inquiringly. j “Yes, I do,” Jimmy persisted; “that's the letter Mr. Hepburn gave ine to mail | the day before he got sick. Do you re i member his saying that little cross was n secret Rociety sign?" “Why didn't you mail it, Jimmy?” Mr. Wade interrupted, sternly. “Why, sir, on my way to the office, Mr. Weaver took it from me, and said he’d mail it himself.” Jimmy hud taken tho letter from Mr. Wade’s baud, and turning it over, ex claimed : “It’sopened now!” There was no need to question W r earcr; the look of bitter hatred ho turned on Jimmy told his guilt more eloquently than any words. “Mr. Weaver, I am sorry for this,” Mr. Wado said, simply, and left the room. His heart was very tender toward the poor boy he hail seen that morning toss ing restlessly from side to side, aud still trying to murmur “Bertha.” “The name ia the same," ho com mented. “i'll take her the note and ex plain its delay. There may be a con . action betwcon this and his brain-fever. God grant there is.” Hurriedly calling a cab, lie drove to tho address on the onvclope, nnd was soon greeted by a young Indy who re sponded to his inquiry for “Miss Bertha Willey.” Hhe was a very beautiful girl, but there was none of the gay brightness one w'-uld look for in a creature so young. Sho had an air ot weariness like that which comes from long nights ol sleep lessness, and there was a suspicion of tears in her voice as sha greeted her vis itor. “Is this your letter?" he asked,abrupt ly- Sho looked at him rather haughtily an instant, then her whole air changed to one of intense eagerness as she caught sight of tho address. “Yes,” 6hu breathed, and in a moment had taken tho note and devoured its contents. “Where did you get it?” she asked, looking up, the pretty color that tiuged her cheeks us she read dying out,nnd her little nir of hauteur rexurning, though her eyes still danced, and there was a glad ring in her sweet voice. Ignoring her question, Mr. Wade said, sharply “Do you know its writer is dying?" “Dying! Frank—oh, my darling!” There was no need to ask if this was the Bertha. Only one woman can utter a man’s name in that tone. The light and the color died out of her face in an instant, and a hard, strained look came in their place, more pitiful than any tears. She put her hand ou her heart n moment, and then said, simply: “Take me to him, please.” “(Jet your hat,” Sir. Wade answered, j But she only looked at him again and whispered: “Take me to him.” Without a word more, he led her to the still waiting cab. On reaching the bouse, Mr. Wade left iier iv, the hall and hurried up-staiis. A ! lew swift words explained to the doctor below, nnd he hastened down. NO. 11. “You must be Very quiet,” he said, gently, enough tho Charge seemed un necessary in greeting tho almost Btom figure that awaited him. “Sleep musi come within an hour, or death or hope less insanity will result; but go to him, look and speak quietly and naturally, and if it is you he is dying for (a shud der rau through the girl) we may sav< him yet." Tlie girl rose and wcul to the glass, “Look and speak 'naturally." Even in tiiat hour of anguish she wondered if the face there was liers. He would not know those pinched cheeks, those staring eyes and bloodless lips. She stood a moment biting her lips, rubbed her cheeks aud then smiled at the glass. That wonderful thing, a woman’s love, had triumphed over nature, and with a smiling face she could meyt Death himself, if smiles would help her in her desperate endeavor to rescue her beloved from his grasp. The doctor led Iho way to the sick room, opened the door and stood aside as she entered. Bertha swayed for an instant, as she caught sight of the pitiful, wasted form extended before her; but again Love triumphed, and swiftly ad vancing to his bedside, she bent above the wistful eyes and said, clearly and softly: “Love, did you eall mo?” For a moment the face looking into hers retained the eager, searching look it lmd worn for days; then it died away, anil one of perfect content tilled it place. , “Bertha!” the pinched lips tried tc sav. “Yes, Bertha," sho cooed, softly lay ing her cool lips on his; “and now, dar ling, shut your eyes. I will put my i cheek against yours, and we will rest.’ Like a tired child, he obeyed her, I nestling his head on the cool, soft arm | sho slipped under it, while the peachy | cheek that lay ou his seemed to possess .an almost magic power. “He is saved!" the doctor murmured ! to the lmppy, bewildered mother; nnd so i it proved, for Frank Hepburn awoke— very weak, indeed, but rational, “ready to drink a gallon of beef-tea, and be mar ried that very afternoon,” ho whispered, faintly. When Mr. Wade returned to the office, lie found Weaver had drawn his ply and left. “Ho knew I wouldn't keep him an hour,” Mr. W.'.dt).. said, while relating tho circumstance for the hundredth time, at the Hepburn-Willey wedding, two mouths later. “What kind of a heart must it bo that would try to separate suen a couple as that 1” Anti he glanced with almost fatherly pride at the handsome pair who were standing under a Moral arch, receiving the coiigratuivitions their friend., were showering upon them. “Bless my heart!" he added, softly; “surely tho imgels themselves must smile on such wonderful' love us theirs.”— Popular Monthly. The Sobering Machine. There is some tatk here, says a Doyles ; town (Penn.) correspondent of the New i York Timet, about reviving the “sober I ing machine.” Frfty years ago it was i ; familiar piece of mechanism. Simple it I construction, durable in use, it served it! j purpose well and effectively. In thus, j days a drunken man was a rare sight. A i few citizens of this place remember il well. “Jack” Reynolds was one of the men who manned the machine, and he re collects when it did yeoman service. Bui the persons who fell victims to it are too modest to recall its purifying effects. it was devised because it was necessary, ami it consisted of the running gear ol an ordinary wagon with the hind wheels taken oil and a box fastened to the axle. Sobriety was the watchword of the hulf dozen men who ran it. Whenever a drunken man or woinuu was seen on the street the machine was brought out. The victim was placed on the broad of his hack in the box. Then the cominnnd | was given and the occupant was run out of town. It was seldom that a man got the second dose of the “sobering mu- I chine.” The tramps soon got to dread the ride of a mile or so, and they never , returned after the first experience. The wife beater fared the same, and its in fluence had a salutary effect on this class of people. The old inhabitants say that the “sobering machine” of nearly n half century ago was much more effective than tho threats and violence of the White Caps of the present day. King of the Gypsies. A modest brick house, standings little way back from the street, in a suburb of the city of Dayton, Ohio, is tho property oud for a pare of the year the home of a gypsy of wide repute, the heir apparent to a throne in Little Egypt; and here, and hereabouts, is tho rendezvous of a uumerous band or tribe. This settle ment is widely known as tho homo of some of the richest and most influential families of gypsydom, among them the Stanleys, of which the present head, Levi, is called the King. This Levi Stanley is a short, thick-set of some thing over seventy years; he is still strong aud active, with a ruddy cheek and bright eye. Much of his time is passed with the traveling parties, while his eldest son, Levi, Jr., a stalwart, handsome man of fifty, assumes much of tho active direction of affairs, looking after property, etc. Lying scattered about to the north of Dayton are many fine farms owned by the a. At present most of the farms are in the hands of tenants, for however near the gypsy may be to toe primeval man, lie bus not yet developed a strong liking for the labor of the primeval occupation. Tho traveling aud camping parties aro tho most interesting and picturesque features of the gypsy life. Those usual ly consist of a siuglo family, the term family meaning the wholo blood connec tion. It may comprise one or a dozen wagons and from three to lour to nearly half a hundred people. They make long or short journeys, as directed by tne King, stopping at each place as long as the state of the horse and palmistry trade warraots.— CMmoo JJernM. Met Of FIE MIE.KLY J OHNAI Rates tf Advertising; One inch, one in*ertioii f 1 09 Etkob riubuequen (6 On§ inch, exu month 3 60 Ou* inch, three m nths A <*6 Oue inch, nix momln 7 00 Onotnoh, twelve mouth* lo i)0 One qu*n er column, one month 0 00 One quarter column, twelve months 83 00 Cne nlf column, oar month 10 00 One half column, tvrvive months -6) 0 One column, oueinou h 15 00 Oue oolumu, twelve months 100 00 Local notion 200. per line each insertion. THE AVERAGE MAH’. Hi* face had the gritn look of granite, As wrinkled and browned with the son As the coat ou his niuToW shoulters— Ami hls showed tins yi >rk he had done For his wife and the babe on her oosom;'- Yat he smiled through biff pallor aud tan Inpatient, sad wvr, as if sayius; “I’m only the average man.”' , '*l can’t be a hero or poet, Nora General, decked with a crown; f’ru only a badly-paid servant For them set above me. I’m down. An’ its no use complaining, HI get along best way I can— But one </ theee days ’ll come roomin' An’ hope f’r the average man.” As I looked on this wistful-eyed toiler A lire flashed in my brain. And I cried from my heart’s coepofit cantor Above the wild roar of the train: “I have seen the hero of battles, I have looked on the hand for the plan-* The mightiest force of the world is The arm of the average man f “Ho wages all battles and wins theme. He builds all towers that soar From the heart and the heat of the city; His hand sets the ship from tho shore. YV ithout him the General is helpless, Tho earth but a place for a plan, He moves all, and builds all and feeds all, This sad-smiling, average man!” Then I lifted my hand in a promise. With teeth hard-set and my breath Held close in my throat, as I uttered In a vow that s mil outlive deatn: “I swear that the builder no longer To mo shall be mss than the plan; Henceforth I give honor and glory— Being just to the average man!” —Hamlin Garland , in Exchange. HUMOR OF TIIE BAY. Making lots of money—The minis. Everything goes—Except the Sunday night caller. True charity—Raising th * wind foi eye lone sullercrs. —Co ur Ur- Journal. You can sometimes get ti square meal, but boarding-hosteak is mostlj round.— Time-. Suggested new reading of au old say* iQg_A green winter nukes a fat doctor. +—Buffalo E.eprm.i. The railroad engineer may not have much style aoout him, but wealth and lashion follow in his train. A young lady ha* bad a p*iir of hu mittens made from the skin of a pet cat, and she is purr-mined to weui them. “Aren’t you going to divide your jum ble wifjh your little sister, WiUieT'. *‘YruL. I gavtrbev the hole Jive nvtnutai ago. ’ Afiin*cy'a Weekly. She—“l think cigarette samking Ts something vile. What do vo-.r 3*sulu mostly in Chicago?" He—(of the Lake City)— ‘ 4 Hams. ’ Time. A contemporary asks: “Shall the coming woman propose?” If she doesn’t intend to she may ns well be noticed first as last that she needn’t come. Time. “Yes,” said the poet to tho boy, as ha stepped into the elevator, “I am going up. I want to feel for once in my life that I’m arising pout.”— Neic YorkNtwa, Age was never so painful a subject tn any woman us it is to the boy who ia trying to raise his first moustache, and court a twenty-five-ycar-oUI girl. Tuno. This we can say for .im who’ mum: No one has ever hoard Of any pjrson (leaf and dumb Who doesn’t a.eep his wo -d. —Chicago Herald. There are two reasons why some peo ple don’t mind their own business. One is, that they haven’t any mind; tho other, thrt they haven’t any br.jiness.— Harvard lampoon , “What’s papu’s boy going to be when he grows up?” I ‘Policeman.” “Aud will’ll he do when he’s a great big po liceman?” “Club tho stuilia* out f pupa.” —New York Sun. “See that man? Well, he emploj T s no traveling ageuts, and yet his runners uro all over the State.” “How ia that? 5 * “He’s a sleigh manufacturer. I’ll have a cigar!” —Lawrence American. Little Angel (sent down to the parlor to entertain a caller) —“Oh, yes, my sis ter will be down m a minute. She is getting over a crying spell because her other beau didn’t come.” His purse was low, bis honor scant: H did ail orts of tbinz ha shouldn’t. He was, in truth, a men llcaut, And what is more, amend he wo Idn’t. —Merchant Traveler. The Rev. Dr. Primrose—“ Are you not ashamed to be in a class with boys so much smaller than yourself?” Little Johnnie—“ Not much, I ain’t. I ca*> lick every mother’s son of them.” —New York Sun. Tailor—“ You promised me faithfully yesterday morning that you would call in and settle for that suit hist night, if it rained pitchforks.” Customer—“ Yes, I know; but it didn’t rain pitchforks.”— Time. Au ordinary clothes-pin factory will turn out two hundred and fifty clothes pius a minute. And yet some people thinks that tramps have a hard time. If they don’t get clothes enough to keep them warm they can burn the ciotav*- plus.— Merchant Traveler. Novel Cure for n Rat Bite. Mrs. Inubu, who lives in Ivo prov ince, was bitten by a rat twenty yours ago, which nipped her toe one night wnile sne lay usi.ee?. For sixteen ye *.ra she felt the etfeets of this bite, and at times the wound would swell and tester. Last January she suilered acutely and net limb swelled up to a great exteut. Ju*t then she heard that for the bits of a rat there was no bettor remedy than th? flesh of a cat. She at once ordered one of her servants to go into the vi.lnge and catch the lirs: cat she came across. This done, it was cooked and Mrs. laaba set to work to eat it. Next morning she was much better, and in two or three days the swelling had gone down and she was quite well again.— Otalca (Jap<in) Ha ini chi Shimbnn.