Newspaper Page Text
Fot-Office orders from n!l j ortlonsol
tic country v. \\\ *■ vre ft *••.;**!%• ol
BONK(X'i::::, r.. > only safe, quid; and
positive cure f.r n uto and chronir
Gonorrh a and elect crer u.-01. Cures
effected i:n ’■ r f.\e days, requiring no
Internal remedies, no elm::;'o cf diet,
or I<>ss of time. Its action dc-tro; and
anta'onlees every at.n f venereal
poison with v.-U: !i It c'-ies In*con
tact, and is hnnale's to healthy parts
MiWfPMEBS?,VggC ftKißa
POO
.A Fost-Offlee order for SI.OO will buy
three bottles of HONK' K IN !C, the only
harmless compound over
offered which positively euros and pre
vents the contagion ofarvand all vo
nercaitU.MMMS.
Thoovmvtant, pcrs wcnntr nnd uni-
Yersul.use of inis re:, “ly would effect*
uaily wipe out all venereal di'eases
from the f • • f the earth. (1. and G.
can n -ither l*o oontrao: l n>*r exist
when it i j used, bccauv.- it destroys by
torn* contact. ltnllaysr.il pain, sub
due-. the inflammation nnd promotes
quiet slumbers.
• PSS
1 well known railroader writes as
follows:
Atlanta, T f.f.’y 2t, 1.853.
Bonkoclnel-Xrlv i .i muary I
commenced the uso oi HONKoriNls
for a bad ease of G. whieh bad baffled
the skill and medicines oi live physi
cians.and three bottles cured mo sound
ami well. 1 lost no time, used no other
remedy and did not change my diet.
It Is a )>!>. i ivx to those whose j ah' aro
not bright.”
Discard al! capsules, copaMa. etc.,and
usotlir.t Which never fails, and will
keep you cured for life by acting as a
preventive.
One bottle S1 .50, or three for SI.OO.
Sold by druggists. Kxpressed on re
ceipt of price.
BONKOCINB GO..
78)„ Whitehall street,
Atlanta. Ga.
F r s le iu Suiim *rvflle by
■ I (’LEGHORN A CO.
n—■■■■uni i in —him n i7x--
Nerve-Life andVigor
- RESTORED.-
fc>- This cut shows the
g Kf&ijFsh Howard Electric
gS wBKPj Magnetic Shield
'ieJKl<t
S ~ tJrSU- ncjsaml Nervo-vltrl
cm.tors. Tne ri.ly
the Lucy, an 1 .
r ■ \ 1 M fl rosmvKLT <i i t
BU k A 1 4 EiUlne)
1 J IHlit> ii maltMU.
OF THE i jl*yhi>v pn* r>
8 Seminal oak
jPf I •*, i:\t.au.
\ I -**m**- '' • Gcuitui OrpuiN
[ Patentee! Feb. 25, 1579. j -nwn ■
YOUNG MEN, from early Indl-crctun, j
serve forte and fail to attain strength.
MIDDLE-AGED MEN often lack vigor, at!: ut
lng it to the progress of year**.
The MOTHER, WIFE and M AID, sufferingfren
Female \V*kn* o. Nervous Debility and ■ ...■ . : :i
merits, will find it the only cure.
To one and all we say that the Shield gives a nut
oral aid in a natural wav
WITHOUT DRUGGING THE STOMACH.
Uarmitrd One Year, and the !>c
appliance made.
Illustrated Pamphlet. THREE TYPES 01 MEN
also Pamphlet for • only, sent on receipt o
tc, sealed ; unsealed, FREE.
American Galvanic Cos.
OFFIDt i 1 103 riicßinut si., FBii <.
NOTES ANDCOMMKXTS.
“GaZE UPON YONDER EVENING Ktsi r
ami swear to bo tme while its light shall
.bine! Swear, my lore! Swear by
Venus !” exclaimed a youth in impas
sioned accents to one of the Vassar
girls. “llow stupid you arc,” she an
swered. “That is cot Venus. The right
ascension of Venus this month is 15h.
9m.; her declination is 17 degrees 25m.
south, nnd her diameter is 10.2.’’
Mbs. Myra Clark Gaines, a very
old woman, after winning one-half or
thereabouts of New Orleans after fifty
years’ litigation to get her property, is
living in Washington in almost strait
ened circumstances. Bho lives in
furnished rooms and supports herself,
her daughter-in-law and two grand
children on the 86!) a month pension she
receives as widow of Gen. Gaines
“Eli Perkins’* says he did not per
sonally know Colonel Hunt, of Michi
gan, who bequeathed him, “Josh Bil
lings” and the mother of “Artemus
Ward” $5,000 each. “A year ago, how
ever,” ho says, “I received a letter from
him requesting me to send him two ol
my humorous works. I did so, and ad
ded a copy of ‘Josh Billings’ and a bi
ogr.inhv of ‘Artemus Ward.’”
Pr .Tulips Bee, a Jewish banker of
Hamburg, who accumulated a large for
tune in Bio Janeiro, but losing all of his
children there by sickness, returned to
Germany, has died, leaving a will which
bequeathed four million marks for the
erection of dwellings to be occupied
free of rent by deserving poor families,
and by nged persons without means.
Senator Plumb said in the United
States Senate that the United States
army of 25.000 men, costs within a half
a million of dollars of the sum spent
upon the German army of 400,000 men,
so that what the United States army
lacks iu numbers it makes up in pay.
“Ours,” he said, “is the best-paid army
in the world.”
It i* n well enough to advise a
young man to overcome ail obstacles by
“taking the bull by the boms;” but
when the youth is in the middle of a
field and the bull is coming toward him
with his head down and its tail lashing
the air the young man prefers to take the
fence. It would be decidedly unwhole
some to take the bull by the boms un
der those circumstances, —Norristown
Herald.
£|jc &ninincnriUc CMjcttc.
VOL XI.
“XOT LOST, LVT GONE HE FORE."
My little child, with clustering hair,
Strewn o’er thy dear, dead brow,
Though in the past divinely fair.
More lovely art thou now.
God bade thy gentle soul depart,
On brightly shimmering wings ;
Yet near thy clay, thy mother's heart
All weakly, fondly clings.
My beauteous child, with lids of snow
Closed o'er thy dim blue eyes,
Should it not soothe my grief to know
They shine beyond the skies?
Above thy silent cot 1 kneel,
With heart all crushed ami sore,
'While through the gloom these sweet wonli
steal:
“ Not lost, but gone before."
My darling child, these flowers I laj
On locks too fair, too bright,
For the damp grave mist, cold and gray,
To dim their sunny light,
Soft baby tresses, bathed in tears,
Your gold was all mine own !
Ah. weary mouths*! ah, weary years !
That 1 must dwell alone !
My only child I hold thee still,
Clasped in my fond embrace!
My love, my sweet! hoW fixed, how chill,
This smile upon thy face !
The grave is cold, my clasp is warm,
Yet give thee up I must ;
And birds will sing when thy loved form
Lies ruddering iu tire dust.
My angel child, thy tiny feet
Dance through my broken dn ams ;
Ah me, how joyous, quaint and sweet
Their baby pattering seems !
I hush my breath, to hear thee speak ;
I see thy red lips part;
Hut wake to feel thy cold, cold cheek
Close to my breaking heart !
Soon, soon my burning tears shall fall
Upon thy coffin lid ;
Nor may those tears my soul recall
To earttr—nay, God forbid !
Be happy in His love, for I
Resigned, though wounded sore,
Can hear His angels whispering nigh :
“ Not lost, but gone before."
Fansy Foubestf.r.
Old Jo© Pollard.
BY MRS. DENISON.
How slowly he walked ! Poor old
old man ! Joe Pollard; ex-President o
tlio Statesman’s Bank of opolis.
His coat was faded, his boots were
seamed and gray, his hat greasy and
quaint-patterned,
Only three years ago, and no more
stately, vigorous, hale gentleman walked
the streets than Joseph Pollard, Esq.;
now he was “old Joe,” and sometimes
“poor old Joe.”
When he failed he was living in great
splendor. People to this day point out
the Pollard mansion and tell you of its
former greatness. Happily there wns
no dishonor attached to his name. Ho
had given np all; homo, horses, car
riages, everything that could be dis
pensed with.
His only daughter—her name was
Josephine, but all her friends called her
Jeddy—gave a birthnight party only a
week before the trouble camo, on her
eighteenth birthnight.
Never a happier or lovelier girl than
she. Universally admired and re
spected, bright as a sunbeam, witty,
merry, genorous.
In all that throng of beauty, amid the
flowers and the feasting that man would
have been bold indeed who could have
presaged coming ill fortune.
Only one week later, and the dreadful
news camo. Joseph Pollard was "bank
rupt. The cashier had been dishonest,
several largo firms had gone down, and
the run on the bank had completed the
ruin.
The father found a place as an assist
ant bookkeeper, but he had formed the
habit of drinking at his own table. Lit
tle by little he sank at Inst into what
seemed an utterly hopeless state, lost his
business, his pride and almost his wits.
“My dear,” wrote Aunt Pnie, when
she heard of this misfortune, “put your
father away. There are plenty of places:
and come and live with mo. Enough for
one is enough for two.”
“Aunt Prue,” wrote Jeddy, indig
nantly, “I am ashamed of you. What!
counsel me to put my own dear father in
the poor-house, for what other place is
open to him? No. I will share his
misfortunes if I have to work my fin
gers to the bone.”
“Jeddy, I’m useless. I’m broken
down and good for nothing,” whined
poor Joe, day after day, as Jeddy sat and
stitched her life into the work she had
undertaken.
“Father, you are only fifty-eight years
old,” was the answer. “Many a man
has begun life anew at your age.”
“Ah ! if I onlyeould !” he would make
reply, and drink again to drown his
misery.
Jeddy had carried much of her fine
wardrobe with her into the poverty of
her snrroundings. Of course she made
over and toned down the material, but
“the look of the lady,” as one of the
coarser neighbors said, was upon her
“and couldn’t be mistook.”
Everybody pitied her when old Joe
came roiling home, but few saw or knew
how patiently she put up with his in
firmity, how she soothed and coaxed
him, with what tenderness she anticipated
his wants, and even when it would seem
that he was scarcely entitled to her re
spect, honored him.
To her, nnder all his wretched dis
guises, he was still father.
But her constant duties wore heavily
upon her. She grew pale nnd thin, then
feverish and hectic; but still she worked
on.
Three times a liandßome carriage and
SUMMEIiVII LL, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY EVENING, APRIL 211, 1884.
pair were seen before tlio door of her
plain little homo.
The first time a rich aunt came to re
monstrate with her and offer her a home.
She found tier preparing Her i>oor meal
over the tiny cook stove.
“Jeddy, you are the best girl in the
world, but you must go back with me,
if only for awhile, nnd leave that man tc
take care of himself.”
This was after a most affectionate
greeting, for Jeddy was her favorite
niece.
“I couldn’t leave father,” was the re
sponse.
“But I can’t seo you lulling yourself
by inches. YYhat does ho care ? One
person is ns good as another to one who
has lost all the liner sensibilities, as he
has.”
“Oh, no; at times father is liis old
self—even—even at. the worst,” sho
faltered. “Ho don’t forget that he is a
gentleman. 110 never was unkind to
me. ”
“Fiddlesticks ! Your ideas of duty
aro exaggerated. Come, now—don’t dis
appoint me—take a little rest. I have
oomo way from L on purpose to
carry v >u back, and the last words your
Cousin Kitty said, as I left her, were:
“ ‘Mother, don’t fail to bring Jeddy
back; I want to see her.’ ”
Tears came to Joddy’s brown eyes,
but sho reiterated;
“I cannot leave father.”
“And here you aro, losing all your
beauty—all your advantages, and even
your health—l can see it! For your
father’s sake, yon ought to go. It would
make a now creature of you to seo old
sights and old facos, and to live a while
like a Christian. Why, child, the walls
aro damp; how do you live ?”
“It isn’t living, aunt, it’s only stay
ing,” said Jeddy, trying bravely to
smile, “but that I can’t help while father
lives. There’s nobody in all this w ide
world to care for him but mo. I know I
might livo in ease and comfort if I went
with you, and oh, sometimes my heart,
does long so for a little of that old-time
joy. It would be like looking into Par
adise- but—l can’t leave father.”
There sounded a heavy sigh. Both
women turned round to seo the old,
gaunt man in the doorway, the tears
streaming down his cheeks as lie held
forth his trembling hands ns if in bene
diction.
“Go, Jeddy, go angel—don’t stay for
me—l’m not worth your care,” he said
pitifully.
But Jeddy thought otherwise. Long
after the splendid carriage lmd gone she
sat there holding the gray head against
her shoulder, soothing and petting him
and lending a willing ear to his promises
of amendment.
Tiro second carriage brought a stylish
young gentleman, with whom kor friends
had often coupled her name. Ho came
with an offer of marriage, hut Jeddy
gave him the same soft hut determined
answer: “I couldn’t leave father,” and
he, too, wont away disconsolate.
The third carriage contained one who
had always been a friend, also a young
gentleman, who had lately returned
from a foreign tour.
He asked no questions and expressed
no surprise, though the change ho saw
affected him painfully. But like a true
friend, ho resolved to aid both father
and daughter.
To this purpose ho followod the former,
and quietly tried to hinder him from the
abuse of liis appetite, and gradually
gained liis confidence,
Then he told him how sadly tlio
change in liis daughter had troubled
him.
“Change 1” exclaimed old Joe, “liow
is she changed ?”
“Is it possible you do not see that she
is at deat h’s door ?”
“Wliat do you mean? At death’s
door—my child—my angel ? You would
kill me 1 What liavo I but tier ?”
“You liavo God, and Ho will help you
to redeem yoursatf. If you do that,
your daughter will live; if you do not,
sho will die. ”
That night old Joe went home full of
doubts nnd fears. He watched his child,
sick at heart from the news he heard.
“I can make her live—and I will !”
he said, resolutely, to himself. “I am
not an old man, yet” -lifting his bowed
head—“with God’s help, I will be anew
one 1”
Ho went to tho curb, outside, and
orokc his pocket-flask in a hundred
pieces. The next day he came home
sober; the next, ho found a place
—a small one, it was true, but in the old
bank where he had once reigned mas
ter. Everybody saw the change. Old
Joe had new clothes, he was respectable
to outward seeming. Once more he be
came a man among men. His knowledge
of the business, his integrity, gained
him a better iwaUion. Lay by day he
took steps upward—day by day the color
and brightness came into his daughter’s
face, and her steps grew light and her
tones joyful.
It seems like a miracle, but is not,
that old Joe rides in his own carriage
again. He is Mr. Pollard again, cashier
of the hank, and a power among his fel
lows. It was jusi trusting in God and
God helping him as he helped himself.
But the best of al! is, his glorious daugh
ter, by sacrificing herself, by her noble
fortitude, by her patient care, has won
a place in his heart, and in the hearts of
all who know her, prouder and more en
during than the throne of a queen.
Companion,
The (jrowtli of a Child’s Ideas.
• Prof. Straight, of Oswego, in an ml
dress before tho school teachers of Con
necticut says: “Tf wo can think of the
littlo child, just born into the world, its
senses just opening to tho world—tho
eye, tho ear and the touch—of tho im
pressions from tho external world
showering down upon those senses—
there is the beginning. Tho waves of
ether from tho bright light beat upon
the eye and the child at oueo distin
guishes (lie bright light from darkness.
Soon bright colors attract the attention;
and so it begins at tho outset to study
optics, discovering light and shade.
Form next comes into its consciousness.
Thereby it learns to distinguish its
mother or nurse from other people. 1
was told of au experiment tried lately by
a teacher at tho kindergarten. Avery
young ohild had been accustomed to see
a bright dress upon its mother, nud knew
her only by color. A young lady friend
put on tho mother's dress and camo into
tho room where tho baby was and was
immediately taken for the mother. The
child lmd not progressed far enough to
distinguish betwoen them by form.
Other children were similarly experi
mented upon, but they had been edu
cated iu form and color so as not to bo
mistaken. After discovering optics and
forms tho child begins to study sound,
and soon distinguishes tho mother’s
voioo from any other voice, it also
learns to distinguish striking sounds
from sounds produced otherwise. Next
follows the knowledge of number. As
soon as a child has one pain and one
pleasure it begins to learn number;
when it realizes two pains and two pleas
ures it has learned number. It is just
as easy for tho child to learn number by
using cubes and triangles as by illus
trating with oranges and apples. And so
noon as tho little ohild can locate a pain
within its body—in ouo of its limbs or
its head—there is tho looality, thebe
ginning of geography. Its striking,
kicking and wriggling enables it to dis
cover tho smoothness and roughness of
bodies. The ohild next begins to study
its own form—its bauds and foot. 1
never slmll forgot tho pleasure and sur
prise that my own iittlo hoy showed
when lie discovered that ho had ears.
When ho put his hand on the sido of liis
head and found something that ho had
not known of before there was a thrill ol
discovery. This joy of discovery is like
that which thrills every true discoverer.
Wo eau seo those powers of discovery iu
the first few weeks or months of tho
child's life.”
-
The Hop Situation.
Country shippers are liable to bo mis
lead by the regular hop quotations, un
less they clearly understand the situa
tion. Fancy Now York are quoted as
high as 28 cenls per pound and fancy
Eastern at 24 to 25 cents, but so fur as
our market is concerned, very few hops
go over 20 cents, because most of the re
ceipts are of a medium grade. The
higher grades are now almost wholly in
the hands of a few holders, who peddle
them about to the brewers at tho extreme
prices. Seme lots of Eastern hops were
consigned to parties hero n few weeks ago
as prime quality, but when offered for
sale they were in cvc ry caso found to
he quite inferior, and did not realize over
15 to 18 cents. 'Die shipper felt ag
grieved, but no blame could be attached
to tho consignee, who did all he could
to get a higher juice. There has been
a good demand for export this season,
but it has been confined mainly to tlio
medium grades. From Boston the ship
ments foot up 1710 bales, against 174
liales for the same time last year, an in
crease of 1000 bales. From New York
the shipments for the season aggregate
57,500 bales, against 35,600 bales for tlio
corresponding time last year, an increase
of 21,900 bales. Nobody expects any
lioom in liojis this year, but the strong
tone of the English market warrants the
belief that the prices will bo no lower.
The Cooporstown (N. Y.) Journal says:
“Some of the New York dealers who
are heavy shippers on their own account,
and who have several thousand bales in
the London market, are holding up for
the present, and probably wisely for all
concerned. So the shipments for tho
next few weeks may bo comparatively
light. American brewers may depend
upon one thing—and so may city dealers
who have sold hops short —hops are not
going any lower, with even a very mod
erate foreign demand to aid the market.
Holders are not inclined to press their
hops upon the market at the ruling
prices, for they very generally entortain
the confident belief that all will bo
needed before the close of the season.—
Boston Journal,
Pensions.
The bill of Mr. Watson before the U.
3. Houb6 for increasing by fifty per cent,
the pensions now paid to the relatives of
deceased soldiers, will, even according
to the calculations of its author, affect
nearly 125,000 pensions, existing or
prospective. As they now carry eight
dollars a month, and as they would
receive twelvo dollars under this bill,
forty-eight dollars a year additional
would bo put upon each of them, or
about six millions every year in the ag
geegate.
A London lady has just died, leaving
the pope a fortune of nearly §2,000,000.
THE CZAR'S LIFE.
vAVi:i> ALMOST It Y A MIRACLE—A
M YSTLRIOI S VISITOR.
A NililliHt %tfl’liipt* nn Inipornoniitlon o! tlir
Runnliiii Chief of Police.
Among the "forbidden literature” now
circulating in Russia is the story of ono of
tho most daring and dramatic plots over
recorded iu tho history of political as
sassination. The narrative is fonudod
on events whieh aro said to have taken
place in St. Petersburg shortly after
General Gonrko had been called from
Odessa to act as quasi-military governor
of the Russian capital. One bright May
morning, when tho excitement was at its
height, the watchful eye of a policeman
posted at the top of the Nevsky Prospect
caught sight of an equipage oomiug up
the thoroughfare ut a trot. It boro
armorial devices well known in tlio Rus
sian capital; the coachman was there, who
persisted iu being wigged in defianoe of
his master’s orders, to the great merri
ment of St. Petersburg Jehus. On each
side rode tho regular escort of six
mounted Cossacks, each holding his
lanco in rest and wearing his ball of
forage sluug over his shoulder more as
if ho was campaigning on tho Don than
ujion civil service in tho streets of tho
capital. General Gourko and his escort
—tlio guardian of tlio peace lmd easily
recognized and hastily saluted his chief,
tlio new Prefect of Police—turned into
the Cavalry parade, at the top of tlio
Nevsky Prospect, and at oneo made their
way into the Alexander square, tm the
Neva side of which rose the massive and
somewhat fantastic outlines of the
Winter Palaoe. Tho equipage having
drawn up at tlio side entrance of the
building tlio general alighted and rang.
On the doorkeeper presenting himself—
an officer of the Emperor’s private guard
—the Prefect briefly stated the object of
his visit.
He desired an immediate conference
with the Czar. The hour was early,
true, day having only just dawned. At
tho same timo his business brooked no
delay—it concerned the Bafoty of the
Emperor himself. The janitor was at
first inexorable, exjiostulating that liis
imperial master had been already in
bod an hour. Yet at lust lie yielded.
Up the broad staircase they went to
gether. They trod on gorgeous carpets,
brushed jiast the wealth of the winter
palace in mainchito and lapis lazuli, only
jiausing in their ascent when they had
reached n landing giving access to one
of the capacious saloons. At this point
General Gourko was instructed to wai*.
At this point, too, tlio Czar’s officer seems
to have repented of liis decision. Tho
narrative represents him as closely scru
tinizing tho Prefect of Police in tho
growing light, and of subsequently pro
ceeding iu the direction of the Em
peror’s sleeping apartments, in no great
haste to arouse royalty from ils first
slumber. The man did not arouse the
Czar at all. What he did was to de
scend to tho guardroom and dispatch a
messenger. Tho man left tho palace on
the Neva side. He there took a droshlty,
and drove post the side entrance into
the Nevsky. Luring liis,absence tlio
Czar calmly slept on; General Gourko
impatiently paced tlio saloon, aud the
military gaurdian of tho imperial bed
chamber went about giving some orders
to tho palace guards.
In a quarter of an hour the messenger
returned. Ho had been sent to General
Gourko’s residence, in the Nevsky Pros
pect, nnd ho brought back tho informa
tion that tho Prefect of Poiioo was at
that moment in bed. Tho early visitor
was thus an imposter. He was some
thing more; for from his pockets, after
lie had been seized and pinioned, they
drew forth a six-barrelled revolver and a
two-edged hunting knife. The Czar’*
i)l<f had been saved, yet it had hung for a
few momenta in the balance. The made
up Gourko—tho Prefect of Police, imi
tated down to the minutest details of
hair, complexion and wig—might liavo
deceived even the Emperor himself. Not
a whit less perfect was the art which
had reproduced the Gonrko conch and
escort. Only tho sham Prefect was
secured, and not his confederates.
Simultaneously with tho arrest guards
had rushed from the palace to seize the
hitter. But tlio equipage had gono, fho
Cossacks were gono, tho coachman wns
gone. A policeman afterward told how
he had seen the cavalcade pars over one
of the Neva bridges and disappeared in
a thoroughfare of Basil Island. Tho
carriage was never found, and, for all
that could be ascertained concerning
them or their steeds, the six Cossacks
may be mounted and riding, lance in
rest, to this day. As for the chief actor
in tho plot, tire conspirator who only
failed in his impersonation of General
Gourko because of his inability to be
in two places at one and the same time
his personality has never been disclosed.
I lie is the one mystery which the nihi-
I lists themselves have never been able to
; penetrate. His secret remains with him,
and he keeps it to the present moment,
: for he is still a prisoner in tho island
! fortress of Peter and Paul.
Cannot Talk. —Lieutenant Rhodes,
\ the Gay Head disaster hero, says he
; would rather do his work over again
than make a speech about it.
NO. 14.
BLUSHING ANI) LYING.
Tl t Popular I'rror Thai ilir Ono I* nu In
<lcx ol‘ llie Other.
"But didu’t you seo him blush ?"
“Well, wliat of that?”
“Don't you think he was lying?”
“No, I don’t. I know he was telling
me tho square truth.”
"Loyou know the circumstances ?”
“Yes, and I know lie told them just
as they were.”
“It sounded like a lie, anyway.”
“That is why Ho blushed,” said Mr.
Denison, a well-known Chicago lawyer,
for this talk was taking place in his of
fice just after the departure of a young
man who had been sued and was seek
ing advice from his attorney.
“I venture to say no man has hail
more trouble than I with blushes, nud 1
think I know some of the causes behind
them. You may have noticed that 1
blush on every conceivable occasion. II
a question is put to mo quickly, I blush.
If I meet a friend slap on tho street—
unless I seo him some lime before I
reach him —I blush, If anybody speaks
my name from behind or from some un
expected quarter, I blush. As much ns
I have been before juries, I blush every
timo an opposing advocate refers to mo
as ‘the learned couusel for tlio defense.’
Hang it! I blush on all sorts of occa
sions, aud yet I don’t bolievo that any
body would say I am an especially
modest or bashful man.
“No, sir,” oontiuuod the old attorney,
“I liavo blushed and blushed all my
life, and tho more 1 blush tho more I
try not to, and tho more I try not to the
more I blush. Above all, tho meanest
blush is just such a one ns you Baw ou
that young man’s face just now. I know
just how lie felt. He knew ho was tell
ing a pretty hard Btory, and ho could
seo in your face that you didn’t believe
him. That’s why ho blushed. If he
had been talking to me alone he would
not have blushed, becanso he knows I
am familiar with the circumstances lie
related; hut you looked doubtingly at
him, nnd he felt your mistrust so keenly
that it brought tho blood to liis face.”
After a little pause Mr. Denison con
tinued:
“I never pay tho least attention to
Mushes when examining a witness. Tho
blush is not, as is too often believed, the
evidenco of a lie. Nor is it a true sig
nal of embarrassment. I know that, for
I have been told that I was blushing
purple when I wns as calm and unem
barrassed as I am at this moment
There are many causes for my blushes;
some of them purely physical, I think;
hut often when I am telling something
some little personal recollection, per
haps, that amounts to nothing—l get it
in my head that somebody doubts some
part of it. Then I blush. Then I feel
that I am blushing, and I say to my
self, ‘Now ho will see me blush and will
be sure to think I am lying,’ and that
makes mo blush all the more, until
finally I can feel my face burn and glow
liko a coal, and I say to myself, ‘Now he
is sure I am lying, and ho thinks I know
ho is sure of it,’ and so I stand and
blush because I think he doubts mo un
til, perhaps, I really make him doubt me
bocauso of my blushes.”
4bout Cribbing News.
An influential Western member of tho
U. S. House, referring to tho Wntterson
bill, spoke ns follows concerning it.
“The proposition on its face seems fair,
but it is deceptive. The value of nows
is not in holding it, but in giving it; not
in storing it away, but in disseminating
it. How can ono expect to retain a prop
erty right in that which has no value
unless it is given away? What is news?
The statement of facts; tlio story of oc
currences. If ono gets tho first account
of a thing, should ho he permitted to
patent it, and secure exclusive right of
publishing it? Tlio newspapers liavo
ample protection in tho first uso of their
own special nows. Tlio first use is about
all the value there is in it to tlio first
newspaper. The country press can get
some benefit by reprinting the news, but
this is no injury to the city press; in
fact, it is often a benefit, for it is usually
credited. Tho country press would be
injured by the passago of the bill. It is
a scheme of the Metropolitan and Asso
ciated Press to confbio the printing of
news to their journals.”
The Deadly Hair-Dye,
A Washington correspondent writes
as follows: Senator Farley, of California,
has returned to Washington, hut is the
shadow of ills former self. He is said to
be the victim of hair-dye. Brought to
tho verge of the grave, he abandoned its
use. His gray Hair and heard are in
curious contrast to what they were last
session. But for tho excessive loss of
flesh and the painful effects of a tong ill
ness ho would bo improved iu appear
ance by allowing nature to have her
way. 1 hope that he will recover his
health. Not long ago the most prom
inent pawnbroker iu Baltimore died a
horrible death from the effects of hair
dye. His dreadful fate has alarmed not
a few elderly persons who had resorted
to the same practice, which is one of
imminent deadly peril.
Kissing.— lt Is recalled in Honeoye,
N. Y., where the bride of Frederick
Douglass lived in childhood, that site
had to bo whipped by her father, an ac
tive abolitionist, to make her kislTDong
lass when lie visited the family.
THE HUMOROUS PAPERS.
WHAT WK UNI* IN THEM TO SMIL*
OVKIt THIS WEEK.
A NEW VERSION.
There is a little boy in this oity whose
mother has been reading to him lately
Clinrles Follen Adams’s poom entitled
“Leodlo Yawcob Strauss,” the conclud
ing linos of which aro :
“ I prays dc-r Lord dalie anydinfiS,
But leavo dot Yawcob Strauss."
Tlio other night while saying his
prayers the little boy rendered them as
follows :
“ Now I lay mo down to sleep;
I pray tlio Lord my soul tokeop ;
If I should die before I wake—
I prayder Lord dako an yd in rs,
But leave dot Yawcob Straus.,"
—Somerville Journal,
A LARGE DOT OF LIVELY AUNTS.
Fond Mamma—“Now, Willie, you
a real good boy to-day; hero’s
all your aunts come to seo you.”
Willie—" Has Aunt Sarah oomo?”
Fond Mamma—“Yes, Aunt Sarah,
Aunt Dolly, Aunt Mary, Aunt Laura,
Aunt Elizabeth, Aunt Cynthia, Aunt—”
Willie—“ That’s plenty, mamma, for
me. It’s tho biggest nest of aunts I
ever struck.” —Chicaqo Sun,
AN INTERCHANGE OF COMPLIMENTS.
“You, Samuel! oomo right iu here
uow, and stop playin’ with that hiel
Smith boy,” said Mrs. Jones; “the ilrst
thing you know he’ll have you ill jail.”
“You, Alexander! come right along
in tho house !” yelled the other front
door neighbor. “The first tliimr you
know you’ll ho in the ponitontiary keepin’
that Jones boy company.”— Kentucky
State Journal,
WIIO WILL CARE FOR MOTnEn.
“You look sad, Birdie—what’s the
matter?” wore tho words addressed to
Birdie MoHeuipin, by her friend Mollio
Squeers, us thoy met on Austin avenue,
“I’m not feeling weJl,”
“Are you sick ?”
“No, I’m not preeisely sick; but I
feel tired, overworked.”
“I)o tell mo all about it.”
“Well, you see, our colored cook is
sick, and now poor mother lias to do all
tlio cooking, and scrubbing, and wasli
iug nnd ironing, and it makes me feel so
tired to see tho ohl creature work. Slia
is so slow.”— Texas Siftings.
nE left rr.
“Did you over find anything of valuo,
Undo Sy?” I asked, after telling him
about finding a pearl ring that morning.
“Yeb, sali; I foun’ a pus once, wid
ten dollars in it.”
“Did you? Well, what did you do
with it—yon didu’t keep it, of course ?”
“Yeh, Bah; I did dat berry ting. I’s
ntriffitly honest; I wouldn’t take no man's
pus. I lef’ it whore he oould git it; hut
I took de money out fust. You see, k
done los’ de money—’twarn’t kis’n no
mo’. I douo fin’ it; it was my money
den. But do pus was his’n, V long os
I livo I ain’t gwino to take no man’s
pus,”— Harper’s Drawer.
LANGUISHED FOR LOVE.
There is a clerk iu an Austin dry
goods store who is very susceptible, and
ileoply iu love with Miss Esmerelda
Longeoffin, who, however, fails and re
fuses to reciprocate. She was buying
gome goods from him last Tuesday, and
sho complained of the high prioes.
“We buy all our goixls at your store,
and yet you charge us more than you do
others. I find you dearer than any one
else,” sho observed.
The clerk sighed, shook liis bond, and
said:
“I only wish it were so.”
“That what were so?”
“That I was dearer to you than any
body else.”— Texas Siftings.
OENUINE ARISTOCRACY.
Miss Shoddyite was introduced to a
real livo young Englishman at a dinner
party tho other night, and tho next after
noon slio was extolling his many fasci
nating wiles and graceß to an anxious
coterie of female friends.
“And then, girls, lie not only waltzes
divinely, but he's a great politician,
too.”
“Oli, my, ain’t that sweet ?” exclaimed
a spirituelio girl. “Is ho in the House
of Commons ?” '
“Commons, indeed 1” said Miss Shod
dyite, scornfully. “I should say not.
He would have nothing to do with any
I louse of Commons. Why, he is a real
aristocrat, he is.”
And tho other girls chorused out,
“My, ho must bo grand.”— Washington
Hatchet.
nn DIDN'T TAKE ALL HIS LEEWAY.
A government agent, who was sent to
Wisconsin last fall to look up trespass
eases on government lands, was ont on
his travels one day when he found a man
winding away at somo choice timber on
one of Uncle Sam’s sections.
"Any land for sale around here?”
queried the agent.
"Wall, tliar’ might bo,” was the
reply.
“J’d like to buy a whole section,”
' ‘Have ye tho cash to pay ?”
“I liavo.”
“I mouglit sell you this.”
“Can you give me a clear deed?”
“Clear as a whistle, stranger. Gimme
§BOO cash, and I’ll deed you the seotion
afore sundown.”
The agent coolly unrolled a map,
spread it out on a log and said:
“You will seo by this map that Uncle
Sam owns this section. How, then, can
you give me a deed for it?”
“See liy’ar, stranger,” said the chop
per, after a long pause, “maybe you is
one of these chaps as arguefies that
Uncle Sam is a bigger man than a free
born citizen of old Wisconsin ! I’llgiv’ye
Aist three minutes to skip 1”
Tho agent didn’t want but two.— Wall
Street News,