Newspaper Page Text
POO
Post-Office order* from all portion* of
tie country will Pceuro a supply of
BON'KOCIXE, the only safe, quick and
po&itivo euro fr • ito and chronic
Uonorrha a ami elect ever used. Cures
cflfected I’.nder live days, requiring no
Internal remedies no claM*o of diet,
t*r ltmcf time. Its action destroy* and
ant& Quizes every a'.o:n of venereal
poison with which it co.nos in con
tact, oiid is harmless to healthy part*
POO
A Fost-Ofllce order for $ 1.00 will buy
three bottles of ItOXKtx INK, the only
harmless vegetable compound ever
offered v hieh positively euros and pro
vents the contagion of at'vand ail ve
nereal disejLM'S.
The constant, persevering and tmf
▼ersul i. 00l this ret* -ly would efftoct
ually wipo out nil vein real diseases
from the f cc of tlio earth. i and G.
can nci'hcr be centric 1 nor exist
when it i.i t ad, Kcause it destroys by
mere contact. Tt allays all pain, *ub
due, tho inflammation and promotes
quiet slumbers.
POO
A well known railroader writes a*
follows;
Atlanta. Frn'v ■;!, I*B3.
Bonkodnef o.:— •* ha ; v.nuaryl
©ouun'.r.ccd UiO u.vi of i, in K INK
for a bed coz of G. which lmd baffled
the skill and medicines *f live physi
dans.and three hnttit* curd me sound
and well Ile tno time, u --,1 n .other
remedy i.nd did not chance my diet.
It 1* a bloving to those w hose paths are
not bright.”
Discard: .11 rapaulcs. copnbia, etc.,and
use that which never fails, nnd will
keep y u cured fur life by acting as a
proven 'm .
One bottle ft.'<o, or three f"r Ff.oo.
Bold by druggl- ta. Expressed o re
ceipt of price.
lijN’KOCrXE ( 0„
78>i Whitehall Street,
Atlnn Go.
.T. 8 CU OHORN & CO.
'Msm
heiHome
c) OS No EQUAI
NEW home HACmHEG
J 30 UNION SQUARE NEWYORK.
<^ 0A o o J.-U-A Nf
lUL. MASS. GA.
TOR SALE BY
1 \ i.i; tV. vj A1 N ,
SrMMERVtM.K, (1A
Nerve-Life and Vigor
- RESTORED.-
t>—* This cut shows th
“ fpiUiasm Howard Electric
§5 Magnetic Shield
J as applied over the K!d
I j’mr neyaaitdNervo-vital
p-.~t M centers. Tne only np
j^* aricu Tna d‘‘ that
the body, and the
■ a m mar\ only one needed tc
■ \ 1 In { POSITIVELY Ct ni
1W * * JgL } Ki<!n-} IMm hac
i , I It Ii e(i inutlMn,
WL OF THE / I) yspepsla
aaJ the worst cases oi
AmSI Semina! Weak
Q ljlJwil *ufr ness, Kalian*
tion, Impoteii
lßhu°WAi*Vipill | <*>* an<l l,!w
ea*eand Weak
, V no**of the (Jrflno
% , vv Genital Organs
[Patented Feb. $5, 1879.] ■ n
- MEN, from early indiscretion, lack
nerve force and fail to attain strength.
MIDDLE-AGED MEN often lack vigor, attribut
ing it to the progress of years.
The MOTHE R, WIFE and MAID, suffering from
Female Weakness, Nervous Debility and other ail
meats, will find it the only cure.
To one and all we say that the Shield give* a nat
oral aid in a natural way
WITHOUT DRUGGING THE STOMACH.
Warranted One Year, and the be*
appliance made.
Illustrated Pamphlet, THREE TYPES OF MEN,
also Pamphlet fur Ladies only, sent on receipt o*
6c, sealed; unsealed, FREE.
American Galvanic Co M
nrcmrci 134 lYladluon SC., Chicago,
Utr lilt 5 I 1103 Chctnilt St., l-hlla.
There is A clergyman in Tennessee
called the “satisfying preacher.” If a
congregation is discontented lie is sent
for, and so atrociously bad is lie that
after hearing him once or twice the con
gregation is entirely satisfied to beep the
pastor it has. The Christian Advocate
tells this story, and adds that when the
great Robert Hall was recovering from
mental aberration he took a wliim that
he would not preach. Several clergy
men filled his pnlpit. At last he heard
one so poor that he said to him—so the
tradition is: “Sir, you have produced a
great effect by yonr sermon to-day. If
the people must hear you or me, my
Jutj-is clear—l must resume preaching!”
£ljc Summer trilk OrtKttc.
VOL XL
A WISH.
If I could find the Little Year,
The llappy Year, the glad New Year,
If could iiiul him setting forth
To seek the ancient track—
I’d bring him here, the Little Yoat*j
Like a peddler with his pack.
And all of golden brightness,
And nothing dull or black,
Ami all that heart could fancy,
And all that life could lack,
Should la- your share of the peddler’* ware
\\ hen he undid his pack.
The best from out htfc treasure
A smile of yours would coax,
And then we’d speed him on his way,
At midnight’* falling strokes ;
Ami bid hun hurry round the world,
And serve the other folks !
Makoaukt Telly.
AN INCIDENT FROM LIFE.
llow dump and cold nnd foggy it was
in Lambeth Talace Road one December
evening. It was terrible noisy too, for
huge carts, laden with heavy goods from
(he Southwestern Railway terminus
hard by, rattled incessantly over the
stones, and everybody hurried along to
bo out of the thoroughfare as soon ns
possible.
Three little nrohins formed an excep
tion to the bustling crowd, for they
lingered for more than an hour round
the big iron gates of St. Thomas’s Hos
pital in spite of the constant kuocks and
pushes they received, custom having
made them almost unconscious of such
| treatment. Besides, the attraction which
kept them there was a powerful one.
They had actually witnessed, while they
| waited, the arrival of no less than threo
| Christmas trees. Two of them, it is
! true, were only young fir trees dug up
j from a plantation somewhere in the
I country nnd sent straight to the hospital
| there to be dressed up in all their at
j tractive finery, but the third tree was a
present from the wife of one of tho eon
| suiting physicians and was already
' trimmed and decorated and covered
with toys.
There was some delay in moving it
from the light cart and carrying it into
| the building, and so the three small
| boys outside bad timo for a long look at
lit in all its beauty. One must boa
i child to understand what that beauty is;
j colored flags, gold and silver bulls, dolls,
trumpets, candles, crackers, sweeties —
they need a child's imagination to be
| appreciated, but we may perhaps, hap
pily have enough of it left in ns to
j know how much they convey to him.
The boys on tlie sticky pavement ont
! side gave a long-drawn sigh as the beau
tiful treo went out of sight, and they
turned away to their own usual sur
\ roundings—mud, fog, cold, discomfort,
| such as tliay had been accustomed to all
I through their short lives.
“My !” said one of them, Jimmy by
| name ; “wouldn’t I just like to bo sick in
there and 'ave that there tree to play
i with !”
It was a sentiment echoed by the
other two, as they edged themselves
along the railing of tlie hospital, making
their way back toward tlie room they
usually slept in in Lambeth.
“Well, we ain’t sick,” said another of
them, called Peter, although the harsh,
dry voice he spoke in and his white,
wan face might have told another tale.
“And so we ain’t got no tree !" said
the third boy, Bill. They had almost
reached the corner of Westminster
Bridge, in depressed silence, when Pet
—as he was commonly called—suddenly
stopped, and, with n smile that was
pleasing enough to see, although his
companions did not notice it, exclaimed:
“Ain't I got a hidea !”
After which statement lie propounded
to his attentive audience, ideas being, if
not rare, always interesting to boys.
And certainly Pet's was original and
worthy of consideration.
He suggested that one of them should
feign to Vie ill; should get taken into
the hospital, and when once there should
see the tree in all its glory.
The plan sounded delightful, the only
objection to it being that they could not
all play the principal part in it. They
decided who should Vie the lucky one by
the all-popular method of tossing, and
Pet won the toss. This was fortunate,
for besides having distinctly the first
right to his own idea, which the lad did
not think of, he was the only one of the
three who would have been capable of
acting his part; but Pet did not know
this either.
He only gave Jimmy and Bill a few
hints as to what they were to do, how
they were to look as scared as possible
when Bill’s father came home at night,
and how they were to say they knew
nothing of Pet, except that he was sud
denly “took bad.”
Whereupon the “taking” promptly
occurred, and with a thud that was unex
pected even to Jimmy and Bill, Pet
threw himself down at full length on the
pavement. A small crowd instantly
collected round them. Most of the peo
ple only stared a moment and then
passed on ; one or two expressed pity ;
“id after a few moments tho inevitable
policeman arrived and pushed his way
up to Pet’s side, roughly questioning
Jimmy and Bill. They whimpered a bit
aud looked frightened—to order, and
the policeman, after roiling Pet over
with his foot and finding him appar
ently altogether unconscious, said ho
must go to the hospital, and, with the
SUMMERVILLE, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY EVENING, JANUARY 23, 188-i.
help of a good-natured bystander, him
self carried him there, Jimmy aud Bill
aud several others following.
It was something to tie inside those
great walls, as Jimmy and Bill and Pot,
too, thought, while the latter was being
carried bv the porter on a stretcher into
the Casualty ward nnd a big bell was
rung for Number One—that is, a young
dresser always liamly, who sees a case
first, and, if it bo trifling, attends to it
without sending for tho house surgeon.
But of Pet the dresser could make noth
ing at all, and he soon called the house
surgeon, who came running down from
the top of the high building and applied
himself with the rapidity of a hard
worked man to the consideration of tlie
ease before him. He did not look over
thirty, but there was an amount of
dieision, a firmness and n gentleness in
his touch of Pet, which spoke well for
the use he had made of his head nnd of
his heart. The policeman stated what
he knew and was dismissed, while the
surgeon looked for all the most likely
symptoms in Pet, and was able to find
none of them. The patient was simply
unconscious. The boys were asked
whether Pet had been ill before ho fell
down suddenly, aud they said : “No,
only the cough!”
And as they both cried, or howled
steadily, all the time, the dresser sent
them away, telling them they might
come the next morning to hear what
was the matter with their friend. They,
not sorry to get their dismissal after the
surgeon had arrived on tho scene, scam
pered off.
Then tho surgeon, systematically nnd
very patiently indeed, began at Pet’s
head aud examined him down to his
feet to find some cause for this extraor
dinary unconsciousness, and could find
none. Disease he found indeed, for tlie
poor little fellow’s lungs were half gone,
but as he said to tho dresser: “Boys
don't dropdown unconscious from that 1”
Being strangely battled, the surgeon or
dered Pet to be taken to the children’s
ward, undressed and put to bed.
"We'll see what we can make of him
then,” ho said.
It was not by any means easy for Pet
to keep up his acting, especially when
strong ammonia was put under his nose
and almost boiling water to his feet, but
he managed it, more now from priilo
than from longing after, tlie Christmas
tree, even. Only when he was lifted by
the nurse into a soft, clean, warm bed,
such as he had never dreamt of before,
that small closed mouth of his involun
tarily parted, and something very like a
smile, like the ghost of a smile, stole
over his face.
Tlie surgeon, noticing it, was struck
with the idea that tho hoy might ho
shamming.
“Fetch the battery here,” ho said.
Pet did not know what a battery
meant, or his smile would certainly have
disappeared us involuntarily us it had
come.
Tho surgeon waited by his side, hold
ing his small hand and thinking to him
self that, shamming or not shamming,
Pet had tlie most pathetic face lie had
met witli in all his experience of sadness
and suffering.
Then the battery was brought and a
slight shock was administered from it
down Pet’s back.
“Oh! that was horrible!” thought
the lad. “What was it? Would it
come again ?”
He managed not to wince under it the
first time. A second and a harder
shock was given. Pet did not quite
scream, but he pressed his fingers ss
hard into the house surgeon’s hand that
the latter knew he was right in his con
jecture. Then a third shook was given
—a stronger one, and this timo Pet
sprang ont of bed with tears starting to
his eyes and exclaimed;
"Oil! don’t do it again; don’t doit
again 1”
One or two stndents round were
laughing, but the surgeon did not see
anything but pathos in the scene, as he
said, gravely:
“Then you are not ill, and have been
giving us all this trouble for nothing.
Wliy did yon do it?”
He wanted the Jad to tell the truth,
and of course to him Pet did.
“Please, sir,” he said, not crying now,
but looking straight with his great gray
eyes into the doctor’s face; “ ’twas the
tree, the Christmas tree, as I wanted to
see so awful bad ! Me and Jimmy and
Bill, we seed it a-carried into here, all
beautiful, and—and—l did want to see
it again 1”
“And so yon pretended to be ill, that
yon might come in hero, and ”
“Yes, sir.”
“And what am I to do with you now,
do you think ?”
“Turn me ont again,” said Pet
promptly.
There was something very like a
quiver in tlie surgeon’s voice as ho said
with infinite tenderness:
“No, my lad, I shan’t do that to you,
you shall see the Christmas tree in here.
You are not what you pretended to be,
but you are quite ill enough to stay in
the ward until after Christmas time, and
then we wilt see !”
And so Pet had his Christmas tree,
and Jimmy and Bill come in at the
surgeon’s invitation to see it, too, but
Pet did not go back with them after it
to Lambeth. He never left the hospital
again, for consumption ran a rapid
course with him, and before three months
were over he died in the ward. ,
a mm) mil.
A I.ITTI.KHF.HTMI Ol'Ttlf! I'ltV.Mt l>KNt
OK Till! NOKTIIIiItN PACIFIC.
lie Mnrl* om Irt I.lie Pndr, lint Miiecerili In
Milking ilia IVnt litlou Kortuuti Thranfli
Pluck unit Cheek.
I met Henry Yillard tho Other day,
says a newspaper correspondent, no
looks like just what ho is, a shrewd, big
idead man, whose biggest idea is Villard.
He’s about fifty years of age, but is
good for thirty years yet, in all humor
probability.
Ho was born in a little town in Ger
many, in easy circumstances, and after
havin’ been a German student and soldier
and all the rest, his folks wanted him to
settle down in Germany and marry a
nice little girl they had picked out for
him.
The girl was nice enough, but Ger
many was too quiet a place, and young
Yillard didn’t feel a bit like settlin’ down.
Bo he gave hiH goixi folks a spasm by
tolling ’em he had made up his mind not
to marry, and to go to America, Tho
old folks tried to coax liim to stay, but
he wouldn’t bo coaxed. Ho bade his
mother good bye and the girl, took his
father’s hlessin’ and a little of his father’s
money with him, and came to Amorica,
Duriu’ his career as a newspaper man
he came across William Lloyd Garrison
and his daughter. Tho yotlng lady
took a fancy to him, and as Villard by
this time had forgotten his German
girl, who, by the way, had got married
herself, ho “settled down” at last and
married Miss Garrison. Ho then set to
work nnd dabbled in stocks so shrewdly
and successfully that ho soon got rich,
and not only made money, which is
easy, but kept it, which is harder, and
invested It so as to mako a fortune,
which is hardest of all.
Asa well-to-do capitalist and a mar
ried man, ho made a visit to liis native
town and his family, and was introduced
to the man who had married liis first
love—with whom ho became fast friends.
Ho also made the acquaintance of loadin’
capitalists at Frankfort, and induced a
good many Germans to invest, in western
railways in which he was interested.
Among others, the husband oi his first
girl invested under liis lead, and Villard
took double pains to see this man all
right, both for his own sake and that of
liis wife. It. ain’t every man who gets a
chanoo to make money fora woman ho
don’t marry.
Villard formed an Oregon company,
of which ho was the head, and this Ore
gon company obtained control of the
Northern Pacific, in a very skillful and
darin’ fashion. Villard is a great be
liever in the ono man power, that is in
havin’ ono responsible bond for every
thin’, and lettiu’ tho head liavo all the
power, as well as all the responsibility.
Well, in this Oregon company ho was
tho “one man.” And lie didn’t propose
to take any advice or listen to any in
structions from anybody else, but to do
precisely as ho thought best. But at
the same timo he couldn’t do anythin’
without money. And ho couldn’t get
any money unless the stockholders were
willin’ to advance it, and they wouldn’t
naturally be ready to advance it unless
they were consulted as to what they ex
pected to advance the money for. Here
was a problem. But Villard set to work
and solved it in a very simple and bold
—not to say “cheeky”—sublimely
cheeky—way.
He called a mootin' of the stockhold
ers, nnd in a few words told ’em ho
wanted ’em to advance him eight million
dollars, for a purpose which was unwise
just then to make public, or even to
communicate to anybody, but which in
his opinion was bound to boa magnifi
cent investment.
Tliis kind of talk almost took the
breath, and quite took the starch out of
a number of the stockholders. But the
colossal impudence of this request was
an argument in its favor with the rest.
They argued that no man could possibly
ask for such money if ho didn’t have a
good thing to place it in. Tlie very
secrecy made the thing more mighty as
well as mysterious. Besides Villard had
always been known as a shrewd man,
and a man of good judgment and charac
ter. Such a man most people argued
wouldn’t ask for eight milieus unless he
had something to do with it. So the
majority of stockholders agreed to Yil
iard’s idea, and absolutely lent him over,
not less than, hut more than, the eight
million he asked for, thus “goin’ it
blind” to an enormous amount. Viliard
thanked his friends in a few words, and
then set to work to show that their con
fidence in him had not been misplaced.
And he soon proved it.
In a few months it was found out that
the Oregon Company which had not.
hitherto amounted to much, had
through Viltard’s fine work, got control
of the greater part, of tho stock of the
Northern Pacific road. This job hail
been done very quietly. The stock had
been bought, not by the lump at once,
tint gradually lot by lot, in various
mimes, by various parties. But it all
got down to the Oregon Company and
Henry Villard after all.
It, was the most tremendons “blind
pool” on record, I believe. It reads liko
a fairy story, this asking business men
to lend a man eight millions on a mys
tery, but it is the simple fuct.
Tim farmer’s best friend—Eliza. Eliza
who ? l\iiilizvi.—.FiUourf/2’e(egrapfi,
Tlie Broken Pane.
It was spring time, The buds were
bursting into blossom—the birds sang
joyfully as they linilt their nests—the
green grass was hiding the ugly scars of
winter. A child’s pale foci) poured
through ft broken pane out Upon the
glorious sunshine, and tho soft Wind
kissed her checks and whispered:
"Bye and bye.”
Outside the house was life and health
and happiness. Inside was sickliest*,
sorrow aud poverty. Child though she
was, the shadows had settled down
about her as the fog gathers
round tho ship which tho rooks thirst to
destroy. There were children there,
liut no childish laughter. The sunshine
streamed into the bare rooms, but it
warmed no hearts. It was a poor
widow’s struggle against that gaunt,
grim shadow whoso other nnme is pov
erty. Hunger and cold and rags dwarf
the body, and give the face the look of
one hunted for years by nil implacable
enemy. Despair will waste whoever
dares enter the struggle, nnd anxiety
leaves its mak so plainly that no ond
can mistake it.
This child of twelve had known noth
ing but shadows, grim, silent, stealthy
shadows, stealing upon her young life to
rob it of evory happiness. Even as she
lookeil out upon tho glorious world sho
felt that she Was no part of it. It was
around lior, but beyond her reach.
****** *
It, was mid-summer. Every treo was
a thing of beauty—every flower a silent
tribute of praise to the Creator. The
grass had become a velvet carpet—the
blossoms wore young fruit—the sun
was sending his warm rays to cheer tho
darkest corners. The world was joyous
tinder the blue skies of summer ns the
pale face again looked from tho broken
pane. Out in the world around her the
children shouted in their glee. In tho
dark old house children hungered for
bread. The samo glim shadows Woro
there—the samo struggle for bread—
the same burdens and anxieties and bit
terness of heart. The child had grown
paler, aud the limited look had chased
every other expression away. Her
eyes saw the trees, the (lowers, the
streets, the busy world and its happi
ness, and her ears heard the summer
breeze as it softly whispered :
"Bye and bye.”
What would it bring? Wlmt is tlie
bye niul bye to those haunted by
hunger and striving against poverty?
♦ * * * * * *
The other day when the north wind
shrieked aud moaned, and the snow
flakes whirled and flew, another face ap
peared at the broken pane. It was that
of a boy who could not resist the temp
tation to look in. On a poorer bed than
lie had ever seen—in a room so cold and
bare and cheerless that he shivered as ho
looked—lay the corpse of the child who
had looked upon the spring and tho
summer. The snow-flakes which strayed
in at tho broken pane were no whiter
than her face. There was no smile to
cloak its coldness, but around the mouth
were lilies to melt the heart. It was ns
if tlio dead were whispering: “Snow
and poverty aud despair have beclouded
and cut short a young life. Have pity 1”
The soft winds had whispered: “Bye
and bye 1” It had come. In life the
tears in that boy’s eyes would have
lightened her sorrows and made her
heart braver. They had como too late.
M. Quad.
Notable Falls.
Writing to the Baltimore San, from
Sydney, N. S. W., a traveler says: “I
have never seen anything in America
that compared with Wentworth Falls in
tho combination of both beauty and
grandeur. At first tlie water leaps a dis
tance of 700 feet, as though falling over
the back to tho seat of a great armchair
cut out of tho face of the mountain by
some giaut of nature. Falling in spray,
it gathers itself for another run and leap,
the second timo falling over 800 feet into
the great gorge below. The fall is so
far and the foliage so dense at the foot,
that the eye fails to see the second
gathering-place of tho clouds of spray
glittering in the sunlight 1,500 feet be
low. The valley below the falls spreads
out into a great amphitheatre fifty miles
across, and hemmed in on every side but
one, with the perpendicular walls of the
mountain. No human foot has ever been
known to tread this valley, as it cannot
bo reached from below, by reason of a
second precipico over which the same
stream falls, and to go down from above
would be a perilous undertaking.”
He Swore Himself.
Tho San Frnnciso Chronicle says :
A Montana postmaster, who arranges
the mnils for the little town of Birney,
lives eighty miles from a notary public.
When he sent in his first quarterly re
port he ailmininstered the oath to him
self and then certified to tho correctness
of the account. A reply soon came back
from the red-tape headquarters in Wash
ington that he hail violated a sacred
precedent and must get a notary to
swear him. His retort was that ho
knew no precedent which would assure
him mileage and traveling expenses for
160 miles in order to get a notary's sig
nature. Tliis left the department not a
leg to stand upon and they have sinco
preserved a discreet silence nnd allowed
the Montana man to swear as he pleased,
NO. I.
THE LIME-KILN CLUB.
iVORDH OF WIN DOJI IIY lIItOTHKV
GARDNER.
An Ariilrrm Upon n Very Norton* Nulijoet*
[From tho Detroit Free Fichu.]
“I desire to announce,” sunt Brother
Gardner as lie rose tlpauil looked around
on the bald heads before liim, "tint do
Right Very Honorable Ernstus Du Biff,
T/L.D., of West Point, On., am waitin’
in do HflUtJ-Towm to debitor n leoktnr’
liefo’ dis dill). Do slibjiek lie hns clioosen
on dis illustrious occasion r.fsi ‘Wlmt
will do fnohur’ bring fo’tli ?’ Ho nr r ovo
henli two days ago, nil' has bin oconpyin’
do spar' bed in Brtnlder Walpole’s house,
Artor do lectur’ a oolleckslnn: will bo
tooken up fur his benefit, and to morrer
mawnin’ he will pnroeed on his way to
Toronto. De committee will now pnr
oeed to bring him in.”
When the committee reached tho
ante room they found the Right Very
Honorable bathed in a cold perspiration
and liis paper collar fast wilting away.
He had an attack of what is called
“stage fright,” and the committee had
to rub liis back with a brick, pour cold
water down his neck, and lend him
fifteen centa in nickels before he could
sufficiently command himself to enter
the lmn. Ho finally appeared, a rosy
smile mortgaging his features nnd his
head nodding from one to another, and
was formally introduced by the Presi
dent. Ho seeded on the point of wilt
ing again, but Brother Gardner whis
pered to him that if ho did he’d have to
go out of town on foot, and tho warning
stiffened his legs nnd made anew man
of him.
“My frens,” he softly began, “I
reckon dat mos’ of you know wliat de
word fiiclnir means. It dean' mean de
littskiu’-bees of las' y’ar, but it refers to
goin’ a-fishin’ nox’ summer. De fiiehnr
means dat which am befo’ ns. We
know wliat do past lias lining out. What
will happen in de fnehnr cannot lie
known but may ho predicted. lam
heaii to-night to predict.
“I do not say dat do fuolmr will see a
cull’d man occupy in’ do White House at
Washington, but I predict dat if de
Norf Pole am ever diekivereil it will bo
by some member of do Lime-Kiln Club.
“De cull’d man of de fuchur may not
become world renowned for inventin’ an
800-barreled cannon, lmt I see no reason
why he shouldn’t bring fo’th a steam
bootjack or diskiver a way to patch
butes wid cold pancakes. Steam be
longs to de past. A hundred y'ars hence
it will he too slow fur any bizness ’cept
sawin’ up wood fur poo’ folks.
“I do not assort dat do fuchur will
do away wid railroads, but de son of
some pusson now widin’ sound of my
voice will win fame by inventin’ some
way of killin’ de brakeman who emag
ines dat his sole duty consists in roastin’
de passengers in each ear.
“De fuchur may not solvo do prob
lem of ftyin’ frew de air, lmt who kin
tell what de next fifty years may do to
ward improvin’ de hotel bed an’ do
restaurant sandwich ?
“To-day we stan’ an’ look upon do
sewin’ masheen as perfeckshnn. Fifty
years hence men will smile at de ideah
of our bein’ satisfied wid any sioli affair.
A wife will tako de sewin' masheen of do
fuchur an’ support a lazy husban’ an’
nine children widout workiu’ ober two
days in de week.
“Do fuchur will liavo a heap to do
wid our own pcrtiokler race. Do Samuel
Shin of a hundred y'ars hence may boa
city comptroller; do Giveadam Jones
will be President of acollege; do Pickles
Smith will liohs a railroad; de Waydown
Bebee will lmvo liis name mixed up wid
a naslmnol bank; de Lord Nelson Slabs
may command an army an’ de Bruilder
Gardner will sit in de Gubiner’s room at
do State House an’ sign his offishul
name to de bills passed by de Legis
laclinr. [Wild cheers.] Wid dese few
impervious remarks lis dun. I return
my sympathetic adherence for de tyran
nical manner in which you lias bestowed
your attenshun an’ take my lenvo of you
in de moas’ emblematical manner.”
The closing remarks were greeted
with such a storm of applause as
broke out several window-panes aud
upset two lamps. The honorable gen
tleman was then conducted from the
hall, and the eollection taken up for his
benefit netted him the handsome sum of
87.30.
The Waste Basket.
A correspondent of the Cleveland (O.)
Leader in Goshen, Ind., tells a story of
the first printing of Will Garleton’s
“Betsy and I are Out.” The poem was
sent, the correspondent says, to tho
Toledo Blade, where a subordinate, in
the absence of the editor, threw it into
the waste-basket. Tho editor had a
habit of looking through tho waste
basket, and he recovered tlie poem, all
except the first sheet. For a duplicate
of this sheet he wrote to tho author, who
furnished it, and the poom was printed.
It was copied by nearly every paper in
America.
“A Pnir.ADEnpniA scientist can tell,
on examining a hair pin, the color of tho
owner’s hair.” And a Philadelphia
woman, on examining a hair found on
the shoulder of her husband's coat, can
tell whether he hns lied or not—and she
■is not a scientist, either .—Norristown
llorald, I
THE HUMOROUS PAPERS.
i WHAT WK FIND IN TIIKM TO LAUGH
OVER.
i GOT IT.
O h
and o
yon
r o
this groat big boot,
belonging to an ugly
brnte r It weighs a
ton or more I gnom)
it gavo mo ono part
ing care**. I loved
a darned, hlio wa
fair h HUimhino in
tho autumn air. Ono
owning I did gladly
whirl into tho do
main of my girl. Wo
talked of love, I
called her dove; w
mot down to tlie
gate to Hpoon, be
neath tho gleam of
harvcHt moon. I
pressed a kiss upon
her lipn. It was so
sweet 1 gavo another
sip. Oh ! then he came t
the owner of tliis l>oot
the same. I felt a pres
sure soro and quick, so
sudden that it made mo
sick. Ten feet into tho air I
flew, and dropped into tho
horse pond too. I swore with all
my might and main, I nover
would make love, no uevor again unto
a maid whose pa ho wore— it isn’t
fun — a boot that weighed
almost a ton.
•—Whitehall Timet,
WHAT CAUSED IT.
Little Nell—“ What is oatmeal made
of, ?’’
“Mamma —“It is mado of oats, my
child.”
Little Nell—“ Oats? Wby, that’s
what they feed to horses.”
Mamma—“Yes, dear.”
Little Nell—“No wonder I’m so awful
hoarse.”
TTtU SILENT MAJORITY.
.Tones, who was a peaceable man, mar
ried a very Htrong-miuded womnn, and
sometime after n friend who had been
abroad was asking Brown about him.
“Alas, poor Jones,” said Brown, “ho
lias joined tho silent majority.”
“Good heavens, he ain’t dead, is he?
When did it happen ? I never heard of
it before.”
“Oh, no, ho is not dead.”
“Well, if ho ain’t dead, how oould he
have joined tho silent majority?”
‘‘Poor man, ho’s married. ” — Merchant
Traveler.
STTODDY ARISTOCRACY.
“Miriali, I am shocked that you should
even think of having those Simpkins
girls as bridesmaids at your wedding.”
“Why, mamma, they are two of tho
sweetest, nicest, most highly-cultivated
young ladies in the city. They have
traveled all over the globe and are re
leived everywhere.”
“But just think, Miriah, of thestigma
which attaches to them. Before the
war their father, who afterward got rich
on all army contract, lived on a farm and
actually made and sold butter. Just
think of it I”
“But docs not my father make and
sell butter, too?”
“No, indeed. Why, yon shock me!
How could you think of such a thing ?
Your father is a manufacturer, and tho
product ho manufactures is not vti'gar
butter, but oleomargarine ft highly
prized and very important article of
commerce.”— Philadelphia Call.
THE BAD noy’s LAST CATER.
“What’s that?” said the groceryman,
turning pale and starting for the door,
where he found a woodsawyer taking a
pear. “Get away from there,” and ho
drove tlie woodsawyer away and camo in
with a sign in his hand, on whicli was
painted, “Tako one.” “I painted that
sign nnd put it on a pile of chromos of a
new clothes wringer, for people to take
ono, and by gum, the wind has blown
that sign over on to tho basket of pears,
and I suppose every dam fool that has
passed this morning has taken a pear,
and there goes tho profits on tho whole
day’s business. Say, yon didn’t change
that sign, did you?” aud tlie grocery
man looked at tho bad boy with a glanoe
that was full of lurking suspicion.
“No, sir-reo,” said the boy, as he
wiped the pear jnice off his face on a
piece of tea paper, “I have quit all
kinds of foolishness, and wouldn’t play
a joke on a graven image. ” — Peck’s Sun.
HE TRIED THE PASS.
A few days ago a man with a meek
ind humble expression and wearing a
l immer suit of clothes applied to one of
the railroad passenger agents for a dead
head pass to Toledo.
“Why do you want to go to Toledo?”
“To git married.”
“And you haven't any money?”
“Not above twenty-five cents.”
“Hadn’t you better be worth yonr fare
to Toledo before taking a wife on your
bands to support?”
“You don’t understand the case,” pro
tested the man, “I’m going to marry a
widow wortli at least 85,000, and the
first thing I shall do will be to remit you
the price of a ticket. I’m poor and the
widow knows it, but she marries me for
love.”
Ho protested so long and earnestly
that he was finally passed down the
road. Two days elapsed and then a let
ter was received from him, Baying :
“Heaven bless you for your kindness I
Reached hero all right, nnd married the
widow according to programme. It
turns out she isn’t wortli a copper. In
tliis emergency may I ask you to pass us
lioth to Detroit, where I have hopes of
striking a job?”— Detroit Pree Press.
Anew employment has been funnel
for working girls in some of the large
cities. In ono of tho leading millinery
establishments a number of remarkably
pretty young girls are kept in an ante
room, ostensibly employed to sew.
They represent a wido variety in com
plexion and typos of feature. When a
customer wavers in deciding between
bonnets tho wily clerk cails in one of
these girls and says : “Here is a head
nnd face quite like yours, and I can show
you the effect this hat would have on
you.” Of course, on beauty’s top tho
piece of millinery is bewitching, and
gratified vanity quiokly completes thy
sale,