Newspaper Page Text
BLOOD POISON !
100 Bottlas of Another Blood Medi
cine Used—No Relief Until
B. B. B Was Used
Hampton, Ga.. June 12th, 1888.
Blow Balm Qq \. mr &/> i> has work*
<1 on mo like a charm. Tlir<* bottle* have
lone me wore rikm! than all doctor* and ItW
ottlosof the nioMt tinted remedy. I am fsei
iuk well rapidly. AH ulcer* limit'd, no aching
f nurboncH, no pain* lu my hack, and my
kin in Incoming clear. The effect of ft ft. it*
mmy kidney* i* something wonderful. My
friends are iMrtoniNlied. My family physician
\vh it is the only medicine I ever used suited
° nty case. 1 would take pleasure In colfcH
*>onaing with any one interested, ns 1 can’t
nelp praising It. Ji. Ji. Indeed it is a great
)ih>od l’nrifier. Give uuyoiie my addrea* who
may eali for it. A. V. W.
Address, lILOOD ILYLM CO.. Atlanta, Ga..
or Summerville, Ga.
IS THAT SO?
Yes, it’s a fact, that ono large bottle of It. B.
ft. costing only $1 i* warranted to produce a?
much remedial effect in the cure of all Blood
i*owon us three bottle* of the most famous
blood medicines of tlie day. Yea, three tc
one ; that’s the way we put it, and we are able
to back our word with strong evidence, ft. ft.
B. is the quick blood remedy, and there is in:
mistake al*out it. The proof is printed -the
flat has gone forth—the toosin has been sound
ed, and‘lie that hath ears to hear, let him
hear.”
Srorfulu Cured After Several Plusieian
FAII.KI.
On the 28th day of April, 18811. William Hea
lock, 12 years of age. presented himself to Dr,
GiUam, di siring to knowif /l, It. ft. would
cure him. He lives on Hr. t.. A. Guild’*
place, near the cemetery, aud the case is well
known by Dr, Guild, who lias particularly
noticed it.
The boy had a foul scrofulous ulcer involv
ing the entire elbow joint, with which be had
been afflicted over twelve months. It had de
stroys! the superficial structure, and was fust
approaching the deeper tissues. He could not
bend the arm, and had strong indications of
the same nlceroua condition of the shoulder.
Two other physicians of the city bad treated
the case, hut without any perceptible change
in his condition. He was placed upon the
treatment of It. It. Ji , and one single I ottle
cured the foul ulcer and restored the fast de
generating condition of the child, and lie is
now enjoying the finest of health.
This is a plain and unmistakable case of
we\l defined scrofula, aud recognised as such,
• ured with one single I ottle of It. It. ft., and
Ve take**, asun- in asking airy interested party
to address Dr. 1,. A. Guild, Atlanta, (la., on
the subject relative 'uhle of the medicine in
this case.
If one well df fined cane of scrofula can be
cured, others can be cured also.
BLOOD BALM CO.,
Atlanta, Georgia.
Boldin Summerville, by
I- ( LK IK>KV & 00.
newHome
n-^ingV]^,
(*%EVEtf/LT £ L\„.
NO EQtJAk
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f 30 UNION SQUARE NEWYORK.
CAe O oY-ANff- kO-AiV*
ill. v MASS. GA.
FOR SALE BY
PH A I M ! CA I X,
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t a ■ only one needed t.
| W w . 1 lx i positively criti
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B __ - U p J It he lima Hr* m,
1 OF In* 1 Hyhpe ps Ia
Ti^ w _ the worst cases o!
fiU Hf’ 1 WHI Seminal Weith
JrIH WL#llJ* nen, Kihaim
Moil, lllllKltl’ll
If(l O. *o WAe D „ ;/3? I f )i and all ll
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V I \ <; el| || H | Or^UH*
[Patented Feb. 25, 187W.] ——■ —n^
YOUNG MEN, from early indiscretion, lock
nerve force and fall to attain strength.
MIDDLE-AGED MEN often lack vigor, attribut
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The MOTHER, WIFE and MAID, suffering from
Female Weakness, Nervous Debility and other ail
merits, will find it the only cure.
To one and all we say that the Shield gives a nat
nral aid in a natural wav
WITHOUT DRUGGING THE STOMACH.
Warranhd One Year, ami the ber
appliance made.
Illustrated Pamphlet. THREE TYPES OF MEN,
also Pamphlet for Ladle* only, sent on receipt oi
6c, sealed; unsealed, FREE.
American Galvanic Cos.,
nrnnrc, 134 nadiwn St., Chicago,
Ur rluto! 1103 < hestmit St., FliUu.
The only occasion upon which rait-
Afiy trams in the United States are
f known to attain a speed of eighty-five
miles an hour is when yon sweep in sight
of a station with your overcoat only half
on, and see the train you want just start
ing out. Before you can reach the plat
form, a shot from a Parrot gnu couldn't
catch that train. She may jolt along at
twelve miles all the rest of the day, bnt
for about one minute, as yon go charging
down the platform, she makes an easy
hundred, Bciu/Elie.
£l)c snininmullc (Drycttc.
VOL XL
CHRISTMAS EVE.
God bless the little stockings
All over the land to night.
Hung in the choicest corners,
Iti a glow of crimson light*
The tiny scarlet stocking,
With a hole in the heel and toe,
Worn by wonderful journeys
The darlings have had to gO\
And benVeh pity the children,
Wherever their home may be,
Who w ake at the first gray dawning,
An empty sto king to see !
Left in the faith of childhood
Hanging against the W all.
Just where the dazzling glory
Of Santa’s light will fail!
Alas, for the lonely mother
Whose bomb i* empty ami still,
Who hub no scarlet stockings
VN ith childish toys to fill!
Who sits in the swarthy twilight,
With her face against the pane,
Ami grieves for the little baby
Whoee grave is out in the rain l
Oh, the empty shoes aud stockings,
Forever laid aside,
Oil, the tangled, broken shoe-string
That will nevermore be tied !
Oh, the little graves at the mercy
Of the cold December rain *
Oh, the feet in their snow-white saudili
That can never trip again !
But happier they who alumbei,
With marble at foot and head,
Than the child who has no shelter,
No raiment, nor food, nor lied.
Yes l heaven help the living 1
Children of Waht and pain,
Knowing no fold nor pasture—
Out to-night in the rain !
A CENTURY AGO.
An old brown leather-covered booh,
the leaves yellow, the writing scarcely
legible, from time and decay—evidently
an old, neglected MS. To the fire or
to my private shelf ? Which ?
These were my reflections as I looked
over the papers of my late uncle, the
rector of a Somersetshire village.
I liked the look of tho book and do
cided for the shelf; and 1 had my re
ward, for I found in the crabbed char
acters a simple story, evidently written
toward the close of the writer's life.
This story I now transcribe into a muro
modern style.
"He’ll be fit for nothing,” said my
father; “an awkward booby who holds
his awl and cuts his food with his left
hand. ”
So said my father, and so, alas! I
felt. I was awkward. I Was fifteen;
thick-set, strong, but terribly clumsy.
I could not make a collar, nor bow a
pair of blinkers, nor stuff - a saddle, nor
do anything that I ought to bo able to
do. My fingers seemed to have no me
chanical feeling hi them. I was awk
ward, and I knew it, and all knew it.
“I don't know what he’s fit for,” said
my father to the rector of the parish.
"I've Bet him to carpentering, and lie's
cut his finger nearly off with an ax;
then he went to the smith, and burnt
his hands till be was laid up for a month.
It's all of no use; he spoils me more
good leather in a week than his earnings
pay for in a month. Why cannot he,
like other Christians, use his hands ns
the good God meant him to ? There,
look at him now, cutting that back strap
for tbe squire with his left hand.”
I heard him; the knife slipped, and
the long strip of leather was divided in
a moment and utterly spoiled.
"There now! look at that! A piece
( lit of the very middle of the skin and
his finger gashed into the bargain.”
The rector endeavored to soothe mj
father’s anger, while I bandaged my
j linger.
“You’d better let him come up for
that vase, Mr. Walters; I should like a
| ease to fit it, for it is very fragile, as all
[ tlint old Italian glass is; and line it with
| the softest lcafher, please.”
Arid so I went with the rector to bring
| back the vase, taking two chamois
leathers to bring it in.
We reached the house, and I waited in
the passage while he went to fetch it.
' lie came hack with a large vase, tenderly
wrapped in the leathers. Alas ! At that
! moment there came from the room,
j against the door of which I was stand
i ing, the sound of a voice singing. A
I voice that thrilled me through—a voice
j I hear now as I write these lines—so
! clear, so sweet, so pure, as if an angel
| had revealed itself to mo.
I trembled, and forgot the precious
| burden in my hands; it dropped to the
ground and was shattered to pieces,
j How shall I describe tho rector’s
| rape ?
She who had the ai gel-voice—his
niece—came out and I saw her. I for
got the disaster, and stood speechlessly
gazing at her face.
"Yon awkward scoundrel ! look at
your work. Thirty pounds! Fifty
pounds ! An invaluable treasure gone
irreparably in n moment. Why don’t
you speak ? Why did you drop it ?”
"Drop it,” I said, waking up. "Drop
what?” And then it flashed upon me
again, and I stammered out, “She
sang 1”
‘ And if she did sing, was there aDy
occasion to drop my beautiful vase, you
doubly stupid blockhead? There, go
out of the house, do, lefore you do any
further mischief, and toll your father to
horsewhip you for a stupid dolt.”
My father heard of my misfortnne, and
laid the strap across my shoulders with
out hesitation, for in my young days
boys were boys till eighteen or nineteen
years old. I bore it patiently, uncom
plainingly.
"What is he fit for ?” everyone would
SUMMERVILLE, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY EVENING, JANUARY 30. 1884,
ask, and no one oould answer, not even
myself.
1 wandered about the rectory lu tho
summer evenings and heard her sing; I
tried hard to gel the old gardener to let
me help him carry the Watering-pots,
and when I succeeded, fell, as 1 entered
the hector's garden, that I was entering
a paradise.
Alas ! alas ! my awkwardness again
banished me. She met mo one evening
in the garden, os I was coming along the
path, with my cans full of water, and
spoke to me, and said t
"You're the boy that broke the Vitso,
aren't you ?’’
I did hot, could not, reply; my
strength forsook me. I dropped my
cans on the ground, where they upset
and flooded away in a moment some
seeds on which the rector set most
especial store.
"How awkward, to he sure 1” she ex
claimed. "And how angry Uncle will
be."
I turned and fled, and from that time
the rectory gate Whs closed against me.
Ono Sunday she snug as I had never
yet heard her, not loudly, but so ten
derly, so lovingly; I know the change
had come—she loved; it thrilled in her
voice; and at the evening service he was
there. I saw him. A aoldiet, 1 knew
by Ills hearing, with cruel, hard, gray
eyes; and she sang, I knew it. I de
tected a tremble ami gratitude in tbe
notes. I felt she was to sutler, as I bad
suffered; uot that I sang. I had no
voice. A harsh, guttural sound was all
I could give utterance to. I could
whistle like a bird, and often and often
have 1 lain for honks in the shade of a
tree and joined tho concerts in the
woods.
One day T was whistling, when I was
tapped on the shoulder by an old man,
the cobbler of the next parish.
"Mam, where did you learn that?”
"Learn what?”
"That tune.”
"At church.”
"You’ve a good ear, Sim
“I’ve nothing elso good, but I can
vhistle anything,”
"Can you whistle mo the Morning
Hymn ?’*
I did so
•'Good; very good. Know anything
of music, Ham ?”
“Nothing.'’
"Like to?”
"I’d give ali I have in tlia world to
able to play anything. M.y soul’s
‘ull of music. I can’t sing a note, lmt
I could play anything if I was taught.”
"So you shall, Sam, my boy. Come
home with me. Carry these skins, and
you shall begin at once.”
I went home with him, and found
that he was one of the players in the
choir of his parish, his instrument being
tho violoncello. 1 took my first lesson,
and from that time commenced anew
life. Evening after evening, and some
times during the day, I wandered over
to his little shop, and while he sat, stitch,
stitch at. the boots and shoes, I played
over and over again all the music I
could get from the church.
“You’ve a beautiful fingering, Ham,
my boy, beautiful; and though it does
look a little awkward to see yon bowing
away with your left, it makes no differ
ence to you. You ought to he a fine
player, Sam.”
I was enthusiastic, but I was poor. 1
wanted au instrument of my own, but
had no money and I earned none—l
could earn none.
“Sam, my boy,” said the cobbler, one
day, “you shall have an instrument, and
your father shall buy it for you, or the
whole parish shall cry shame upon
him.”
“Hut he don’t know a word of this,”
I said.
“Never mind, Sam, my boy, he shall
bo glad to know of it;” aud he told me
his plans.
On Christmas Day it was customary
for the choirs of neighboring churches
to help each other, and it was arranged
that the choir of onr parish should play
and sing on the next Christmas morn
ing at his parish church, and that he
and his choir should come over to our
parish for the evening Hervice.
"And you, Sam,” said he, “shall take
my place in your own church; and,
please God, you do as well there as
you’ve done here, it will bo the proud
est day I shall know, Sam, my boy, and
your mother and father will say so,
too.”
The evening came; and there, in the
dimly-lit gallery, I sat waiting, with my
master beside me.
“Sam, m.v boy,” said my master, "it’s
a great risk; it’s getting very full.
There’s the squire and my lady just
come in. Keep your eyes on your book
and feel what you’re playing, and think
you’re in the little shop; I’ve brought a
bit of leather to help you,” arid he put
a piece of that black leather that has a
peculiar acid scent in front of me. The
scent of it revived me; the memory of
the many hours I had spent there came
back to me at once, and I felt as calm as
if I were indeed there. „
She came at last, and service began.
Oh, that night! Shall I ever forget its
pleasures ? —the wondering looks of the
friends and neighbors who came and
ound in me, the despised, awkward,
left-handed saddler’s apprentice, the
prodigy of which they hadreard rumors.
Oh, it was glorious? The first few
strokes of my bow gave me confidence,
?nd I did well, and knew it, through the
hymn, through the oliauts and on to the
anthem before the sermon. This was
to bo tho gem of the evening; it was
Handel's tiiOh uetv antlietn, "I know
that my Redeemer iiveth."
It began—liat'sh, inharmonious, out of
tune—l know not Why or how; hut its it
progressed a spell seemed upon all but
her and myself; one by one the instru
ments ceased and were silent; one by
one the voices died away and were lost,
nml she and I alone, bound together and
driven on by an irresistible impulse,
went through the anthem; one soul, ono
spirit, seethed to animate troth. Tho
whole Congregation listened breathless
as to au angel; aud she; self-absorbed
and like ono in a trance, sang, filling
me with a delicious sense of peace and
exultation, the like of which I have
icver known since.
It came to au end at last, and with
the last triumphant note I fell forward
on the desk in a swoon.
When I recovered, 1 found tuyself at
home in In)' own room, with the rector,
the doctor and my parents there, and
heard the doctor say:
“I told you he would, dear madam; I
knew ho would." *-
“Thank God I" murmured my mother.
‘My dear hoy, low wo have feared for
you 1”
XVhat a difference ! I was courted and
made much of. “Genius 1" and “Very
clever I” and "Delightful talent!” suoh
woro tho expressions 1 now hoard, in
stead of "stupid I” “awkward I" and “un
fit tot anything I"
My' ..tlier bought a fine instrument,
and t Was the hero of the village for
months.
It was some days after that Christmas
that I ventured to ask about tho reotor’s
niece.
"M.y dear boy,” said my mother;
“the like was never heard. We saw you
there and wondered wlint you were do
ing; hut as soon as we saw you with the
Low, we knew yim must lie the person
there’d boon so much talk about; and
then, when the anthem came, and wo
all left off singing and they nil left off
playing, and only you and Miss Cecilia
kept on, wo Were, all in tears. I saw
even tllo rector Cryiiig; and, poor girl,
she seemed as if in a dream, and so did
you; it was dreadful for me to see yoll
with your eyes fixed on her, watching
her so eagerly. Anil then to look at
her, staring up at the stained-glass win
dow us if she could sec through it, miles
and miles aivay into tho sky. O, I’m
sure the like never was; and then, when
you fell down, I screamed, and your
father ran up and carried you down and
In ought you home in Farmer Slade’s
four-wheeler.”
After this I had an invitation to go
up to the rectory, and there in the long
winter evenings we used to sit; anil
while I played, she sang. Oh, those
happy times I when she loved me, but
only as a dear friend; and I loved
her as I never loved before or could lovo
again. Ido not know the kind of love 1
had for her. I was but a little older
than she was, but I felt as a father
might feel to his daughter—a sweet ton
ilerness and lovo that made me pitiful
toward her. I knew she loved a man
unworthy of her, and I think, at times,
she felt this herself, mid knew I felt it.
I was perfectly free of t he rector's house
at last, and wo used to find in onr music a
means of converse that our tongues
could never have known. Ah me—those
days I Gone I Alas I they ore gone.
She left ns at last, and in a few years
her motherless child came back in her
place, and as again I sit in the old rec
tory parlor, years and years after my
first visit, with her daughter beside
mo, singing—but, alas ! not with her
mother’s voice—all the old memories
flood Lack on me, and I feel a grateful,
calm joy in tho openly-shown respect and
affection of tho daughter of her whom J
loved so silently, so tender! y -and so
long.
I sit in the old seat in the church now
and play, and, once in the year, the old
anthem; but the voice is gone that
tilled the old church with a glory that
lay. I feel, as the sounds swell out and
the strings vibrate under my withered
fingers, I am but waiting to bo near her
under the old yew-tree outside, and, it
may he, nearer to her still in the longed
for future.
Overheard In Paris.
Bartholdi; I particularly desire, M
ile Lesseps, that you visit America with
me and he present at the dedication of
my Statue of Liberty.
De Lesseps : Certainly, my dear sir,
certainly. You had one hand of it, I
remember, at the Philadelphia Centen
nial Exhibition. You intend to place the
statue in Fairmount I’ark, I presume?
Bartholdi: No. It will be on Bedloe’s
Island, New York.
De Lesseps : Have you sent tho pedes,
tal ?
Bartholdi : No; the New Yorkers are
to furnish that. ”
De Lesseps : Do you mean to say that
the, erection of the pedestal depends
upon the liberality and public spirit of
New Yorkers?
Bartholdi : Yes, sir.
De Lesseps : I fully appreciate your
kindness, my dear sir, but you forget
that T am an old man and have not more
than twenty yeais to live. But, take
heart. My grandchildren who survive
me will attend. — Philadelphia Call,
AN OLD FEUD RECALLED.
rilK ASTOIt l*l.\(K It IOT IN NEW
X Olt li < ITY.
i'll© OHt(*r to on tlie .Moll rttnl lion- It
ttai t.ltcii to tHo SolitU'M*
It has often been claimed, says a Sun
day Mercury correspondent, that the
military authorities were somewhat to
blame in precipitatin’ bloodshed at tho
Astor Place riot, but- the truth is that
they not only woro not to blame at all,
but deserved commendation for their
self control. Fluffin' matters gettin
Worse instead of better hy the cornin’
Of tho soldiers. Recorder Talmadge
showed that he had tirst-class nerve by
cornin’ boldly forward, facin’ the howl
in’, cursin’ mob, and makin’ n speech in
favor of law and order, saying to the
mob: "Depart—return to your homes;
delay not ; lot this street be cleared at
or.cn, or the soldiers here —your own
brothers—the armed citizens of New
York will (Ire Upon you, ns sure as thero
is a God ntiote ns."
But the mot) only Went on Worso than
before. They set up an awfttl yell;
then they groaned at Talmadge, and
fired stones at him, one of which hit
him on the breast, though not woundin’
him seriously. Then Talmadge turned
to General Hall, who was In cltargc of a
battalion, aud said : "General, you will
have to fire on ’em after all."
“Where is tho Mayor?” asked Gen.
Hall. “He alone should give the order
to fire.”
But the Mayor, Woodhull, was in the
Now York Hotel,
Then Hall asked for tho Sheriff,
WesterVclt, Westervelt stepped up, but
was non committal, and wanted the
general to take the responsibility, Which
was natural enough. But Hall didn’t
see it yet.
Thou Gonefttl Sanford and Colonel
Duryoa came up to Hall and I'aliitadge
ami said that this sort of thing wouldn’t
ha endured by the National Guard any
longer. They were bein’ Bhot at and
stoned and wounded hy tho mob, ami
were not allowed even to protect ’em
selves in return.
"What do you say now, Mr. Sheriff?”
asked General Hall, who was deter
mined, if he could, to get his orders be
fore ho gavo 'em,
"Your duty is only too plain, Mr.
Sheriff,” remarked Recorder Talmadge.
‘ You cannot do otherwise than give the
order and fire.”
Tho sheriff said nothin’ for a moment,
turned on his lice] as if to go, then sud
denly turnin' back, he Wont Up to Gen
eral Sanford and said: "Do as you
think right, General.”
This might have seemed enough to
the sheriff, but it wasn’t enough to Han
ford. He, like Hall, wanted to get a
definite order from somebody. Ho San
ford looked the sheriff full in the face
and asked him plump and plain: "Do
you give mo the order to fire?” And
then Sheriff Westervelt said those de
cisive words which settled the life and
death of a large number of people : “I
do, sir. ’
Then Sanford turned to Matsoll, who
was standin’ near him, headin’ the police,
as fat aud round as a watermelon, but
as cool as a encumber. “Matsell,” said
Sanford, “call in your policemen. We
shall have to employ bullets in half a
minute.”
Hayin’ this, while Matsell called in his
police, Sanford and Duryea went round
once more and for the last time tryin’ to
pacify the mob and disperse ’em. But
the mob didn’t care a continental.
"Fire and bo hanged,” “Fire if you
dare,” "To with your guns,” “You
talk, but yon dare not shoot,” were some
of the exclamations heard on all sides.
One fellow in the crowd took up a big
stone and held it in front of him. “Fire
into this,” he cried, and then he hurled
the stone right against the soldiers,
woundin’ one of ’em severely, at which
the mob set up a laugh.
Another chap tore open the bosom ot
his shirt lid struck his hare breast vio
!i idly with his clenched hands. “Fire
udo this,” he cried, liittiu’ his lire I
once more. “Shoot me here and take
the life out of a freeborn American citi
zen for a British actor, if you dare.”
The crowd around went madder than
ever at this speech, and a olmp hard by,
a regular rough, took up a pavin’ stone,
and with a yell hurled tho stone full
against tin; ..word arm of General Han
ford, disablin’ it for the time.
This seemed to act on the mob like the
first taste of blood on the tiger, and
others began firin’ missiles at Sanford,
but missin' him in their haste.
It was again doubted whether the
military and the police together eoul?!
quell the mol). Ono man prophesied a
general uprisin’ throughout the entire
city of New York.
It was really, as Col. Duryea after
ward remarked, speakin’of it, "an awful
moment.”
But it was only a moment.
The first order to the soldiers to fire on
the mob was given by General Hall.
Clearly anil distinctly ho spoke the ter
rible word, “fire!” It was heard plainly
along tho whole line of soldiery, amid
all the cussin’ and clamorin’ of the mob.
But only one musket responded to the
order, and some of the mob laughed in
mockery.
Then General Hanford took up tlie
word. “Fire! Fire I” he called out
twice, at the top of his lungs.
NO. 2.
A number of muskets this timoobeyed
the command; but the firin’ did not be
some general.
Then Colonel Duryea took up the
word. "Fire, Guards I Fire 1” he called
out.
And the Guards fired, in earnest.
Snell is the history of the memorable
firin’ on tho mot) t Astor Place by an
eye witness; and from his account it. is
evident that tho military endured till
they could endure no more, mid showed
patience as well aS obedience.
A Veteran.
During the recent cold days, says tho
Boston Journal, the boys, in accord
ance with old-time and honored habit
have gathered together on tho parade,
ground of the Common aud indulged in
lively games at foot-ball. Tho other
day, while a company of them was thus
engaged, and they wero howling and
yelling in such manner that if there had
been any welkin round there it would
have been made to ring to some pnrpose,
an elderly citizen, who displayed a greater
circumference of his equator than ho
did when he was a hoy, came liy with a
younger friend and stopped to look at
the fun. "That looks like a good,
warm game,” said the elderly citizen an
he looked upon the fray. “How well I
remember playing foot-hall when I was
of their ago. I believe lam good for a
kick now, although it is fifty years since
I tried it. If the ball comes this way,
I’ll give it a rise." Presently the rub
ber sphoro came llying toward him,
and he caught it. deftly mid claimed the
right to a kick, which the hoys allowed.
The elderly citizen then placed the hall
on the ground, stepped back about ten
feet and prepared for a violent effort.
The hoys, seeing the determination of
his look, retired k) a safe distance. The
elderly citizen then laid aside his hat
and overcoat, hopped up and down
thrice cti his left foot while all the boys
looked anxious for fear he would send
the ball out ol sight, and having got tho
rango, rushed down upon the inert
sphere and delivered a kick that was in
tended to make all previous efforts in
that lino seem feeble. Unfortunately,
however, the kick was given a moment
too soon, the heavy boot of the elderly
citizen went about six inches over the
ball, and the leg attached thereto, not,
meeting the expected resistance, shot as
far heavenward os its attachments to Us
owner’s body would allow. The elderly
citizen was thus thrown off his balance;
he sat down directly upon the ball with
a force of about five thousand foot
pounds ! "there came a hurst of thunder
sound” as the globe was rent in twain
by tho shock, and as the observer of the
scene departed he left the elderly citi
zen rubbing his person with one hand,
while with the other he was fishing coin
out of his pocket for the hoys to buy a
new ball
A Steamer Imported In Sections.
The Athahaska, one of the Clyde-built
steamships for the Canadian Pacific Rail
way, has arrived at Buffalo, She came
in two sections, which wiU be joined into
a complete hull at the lower dry-dock of
the Union Ship-yard. The arrival of a
Clyde-built 1 at has naturally occasioned
considerable interest in marine circles.
The Athahaska is one of five steamships
that will form a line from Algoma Mills,
Georgian Bay, to Port Arthur, Lake Su
perior, a distance of 350 miles. The
line will be owned ond run in connection
with the Canadian Pacific Railway. The
Athahaska is of steel throughout. Bhe
is 270 feet over all, thirty-eight feet
beam, draws sixteen feet two inches, and
measures eight feet between decks. Hhc
is quite sharp forward, and has a clean
cut stem, though having barely half the
overhang of tho average lake steamer.
Tho hull is divided into seven com
partments. Her carrying capacity is
about two thousand tons. Thfe steamer
is provided with no less than twelve en
gines, including two for working the
rudder. Ono of the most remarkable of
her appliances is what is called a repeat
ing telegraph. By means of this the
pilot gives tho signals to the engineer,
who receives them on a dial in the
engino room, and sends them back to
tlie pilot on tho bridge. The latter can
thus tell whether his orders have been
understood. Another indicator on the
bridge shows the direction of tho rudder
at all times.
The Athahaska left Glasgow about
September 1 for Montreal, with a cargo
of soft coal and pig iron, under command
of Captain Davidson. She arrived at
that port after a tedious trip of twenty
one days, her air pumps giving out fully
eight times on the trip. It was neces
sary to out tho hull in two in order to
take it through the Blnillow canals of tho
lower St. Lawrence. As she was built
with this object in view, the work was
readily accomplished. The sections
were placed on pontoons to go through
the canals. Arriving at the foot of Lake
Ontario, the pontoons wore removed,
and tho parts rested on their own bot
toms. Two more ships arc now in llio
Welland Canal, and are expected daily.
“Yks,” said the farmer, “that cow is
badly hurt and wouldn’t bring *5. But
I shall got rnoro for her. A party of
swell city follows are coming down here
to hunt, and I shall put her up in the
scrub pine lot and tell them deer abound
up there. Oh, she’s as good as sold for
dOft.”
THE HUMOROUS PAPERS
WIIAT WE FIND IN THEM TO MIILB
OVEK.
A TjITTI.H mistake.
She felt kcM claim her an his own,
For woman's wit is quick to seo
Tho growth of needs by Cupid sown
Just after tea.
Hho blushes red when slow who hoars
Tho low-toned words ho Just has said,
And trembling on the verge of tears.
ttiie blushes red.
And startled at tho look she bears.
For, ere lio finished, her soft h< ad
Droops and to his shoulder nears.
Ho hastoH to say ’midst hosts of fearfy
“1 love I love that gingerbread
Your dainty little hand prepares !”
Blie llu- lies red.
— J'UiUidelphia (Jail.
A BIG M INTAKE.
••Ah! how do do?” exclaimed tho
hotel clel'k delightedly, grasping the
hand of a stranger and giving it a vigor
ous shake, "I suppose you will prefer
the second floor front suite ; magnificent
apartments, aud cheap, too, only SBO a
day.”
"SBO a what?” gasped the stranger.
"A day. Will you go up now?"
“Not so fast, not so fast, young man,”
said the stranger. "Don’t you tliiuk
your terms are just a little high? lam
a banker, but my income is only 830,000
a year.”
"Oh I I see, I see,” said the clerk;
"then a fifth floor $4 room will suit you.
I mistook you for an editor.” — livening
Call.
oave rr up.
Homo weeks since the Committee ot_
the Science of Political Economy of the
Lime-Kiln Club were instructed to care
fully investigate tho query ; “Why will
a man pay out $4,000 to Lo elected to a
$3,000 office?” The matter was taken
in hand and every effort made to arrive
at a satisfactory solution, but tlie com
mittee now came forward with tho
acknowledgment that it was too much
for them, and they asked to bo dis
charged from tho further consideration
of the subject.
"Dar’ am sortin’ things which kin
nehbor ho found out, an’ dis am ono of
’em,” said tlie President. "Do com
mittee am discharged, an’ do meeting
will now close in due form. Remember
as you go out dot I am de only pusson
who lining his umbreller along to keep
off do wet.”
TITESE QUESTIONS.
Tlie editor of a paper has more ques
tions asked him, mid gives more answers,
than any man living, though some of tho
answers may not be right. For instance,
a correspondent of an Eastern paper
says : "I have a horse that has lately
suffered from periodical dizziness.
Please answer through your valuable
paper and let me know what I should do
with him. I’m afraid he will get worse
if something G not done so-m.” Tho
editor puts o,i ms glasses, c > alts the
authorities on blind staggers in orses,
and answers as follows: “Our . ice,
based on a perusal of the valuable i k,
‘Every man his own horse doctor. ’
would bo to take him homo and sell him
to a stranger.” The average horse owner
would not need the advice, as he would
sell the horse too quick, and warrant
him perfectly sound.
FIVE T.ITTT.E BTOTUES.
“Why did you buy anew liat?” asked
a husband of his wife.
"Because I hat to, that’s why.”
“Will you attend both banquets this
evening?” said the cashier to tho paying
teller.
"Yes, if tho bank quits in time.”
"How many boys in your family?”
“Six, aud a boisterous time we have
of it, too.
“Well, we’ve only got one, and it’s
boy stir us enough without multiplying
by halt a dozen.”
“Pa, I want an overcoat.”
"How much ?”
"Twelvo dollars."
“That’s low enough; don’t overgoit.”
“What a small man Moiljeska’s hus
oand is,” remarked a lady at the dinner
table.
“Oh, yes; slie looks quite Modjestio
by tho side of him,” was tho reply.
“Aw,” put in an old bachelor “we
don’t want any Modjesting on such a
su hject. "—Merchant Traveler.
IN TSOI! HUE.
The proprietor of a museum at Cleve
land skipped out, and the curiosities
gathered at the box office anil mode a
fuss about their pay. The bearded lady,
who looked so much like a man, cried
like a baby, tho giant stopped on the
corns of tlie dwarf and when tho dwarf
began to peel off his coat to fight the
giant, the big man turned pale and said
he didn’t want any fuss, as he had
promised his parents not to fight. Tho
living skeleton took up more room than
anybody, and offered to whip the
manager, while tho fat woman fainted
at a white mouse carried by tlie Circas
sian girl. Finally tho dwarf and tho
living skeleton, being the curiosities
with the most pluck, wero appointed a
committee to hunt up the missing
manager anil maul him. Verily, people
are not what they seem. Often tho
giant is a pigmy in plnck, while the
dwarf is a thumper with sand to back
him.—Pec*’* Sun.
Their Health.
Alphonse Karr was lately a guest at
a dinner of some homoeopathic physi
cians at Paris, when, after toasts had
been honored to Hahnemann and to the
eeat lights of the science now living,
lie was asked to propose a toast. “Gen
tlemen,” said he, “you have drunk the
health of many physicians, but there is
one toast you have forgotten. Permit
me to repair the omission. I drink to
he lioaltli of your pationts.”
Duihno the year 18S3 more than 2,800
Mormon proselytes at Ban
Francisco.