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€ijc <s‘nmmmriUc (Sfriycttc.
VOL XI
|P|igpi
hew Home
l L , \:m
V* m
SgfECT ~ . '
P £ m INEVO#
..•/'As no eqi ;AL z::., k .- -
NEWHOh %cHAC}I i H £[
/ 30 UNION SQUARE NEWYORK
i ILL. MASS. GA.
I rOR SALE BY
PJH \ I l It ( A I X.
SUMMEUVILLE, (iA
POOR JACK'S I,'UAHIH.VN’.
A Sermon nt sinllor*,* Snug llnrbor to llie
Ohl Sii|in Lniti In In Ordinnry.
The frontispiece of the June Century
is an engraving of St. Gamlens’s statue
of Robert Richard Randall, the founder
of “Sailors’ Snug llarbor" ou Staten
Island; ami Franklin 11. North con
tributes a lively anecdotal paper on the
Harbor, from which we quote a typical
sermon of the Snug Harbor preacher:
“Chaplain Jones presides at the little
church in the grounds of the Harbor.
He is a sailor himself, having served be
fore the mast for many years, and knows
how to talk to those who 'follow the sea, ’
When a mere lad ho ran away from his
English homo and shipped aboard of an
East Indiaman. He is about sixty-five
now, and many years ago forsook the sea
to study theology. As soon as he was
qualified, lie went among the sailors of
the great lakes, and afterward opened a
Bethel in St. Louis. Then he returned
hither and became the pastor of the
Mariners’ Church. Worn out from early
exposure and hardships, he wns about to
start for Europe in search of health and
rest, when ho was appointed to his
present post by the trustees.
“The visitor to the Harbor who fails
to hear him address his shipmates robs
himself of a spectacle at once interest
ing and unique. Familiar with the char
acteristics of the sailor, Dr. Jones ad
dresses him in his own language, and
this is the prime reason of his influence
over him.
“Here is the substance of a sermon * *
from t > text ‘Let go that stern-line,’
which is given in substance. ‘I once
stood on the wharf watching a brig get
ready for sea,’ began the Rev. Mr. Jones.
‘The top-s’ls and courses were loosed,
the jib hung from the boom, and the
halyards were stretched out ready to
run up. Just at this moment the pilot
sprang from the wharf to the quarter
deck, inquiring as he did so of the mate
in command, “Are you all ready?”
“ ‘ “All ready, sir,” said the officer.
Then came the command: “Stand by to
run up the jib I—Hands by the head
braces !—Cast off your head-fast, and
stand by aft there to let go that stern
line !—Let ool—Man the the top-s’l hal
yards—Run ’em up, boys—run 'em up !
—Does the jib take?—Haul over the
Starboard sheet I”
“ ‘She pays off fine—thero she goes,
and—“Hrr.nOA ! Hir.noa I WHAT’S
THE MATTER ? What’s fast there ?
Starboard the helm ! Starboard !”
shouts the pilot. “What holds her ? Is
there anything fotrl aft there? Why,
look at that stern-lint, ! Heave it
off the timber-head! Heave off that
TURN !"
“ ‘ "It’s foul ashore, sir!” says one of
the crew.
“ ‘ “Then cut it, cut it! D’ye hear ?
Never mind the hawser ! Cut it before
she loses her way.”
“ ‘By this time there was a taut strain
on the hawser. A seaman drew his
sheath-knife across the strands, which
soon parted, the brig forged ahead, the
sails were run up and trimmed to the
breeze, and the brig Billow filled away.
“ ‘So, too, when I see men who have
immortal souls to save bound to the
world by the cords, the hawsers of their
siDS, then I think of that scene, and feel
like crying out: Gather in your breast
lines and haul out from the shores of
destruction. Fly, as Lot from the
wicked Sodom ! Oh, let go that stern
'ine!’ ”
“Yes,” she said, “I always obey my
husband, but I reckon I have something
; to say about what his commands will
he."
SUMMERVILLK, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY EVENING, JULY 2, 1884.
A PLEASANT STORY.
'Twas in vo pleasant olden time;
Oh, many years ago,
When husking bees ami singing schools
Were all the fun, you know.
The singing school in Tnrrytown—
A quaint old town in Maine—
Was wisely taught and grandly led
By a young man named l’aine.
A gallant gentleman was Taine,
Who liked the lasses well;
But best In' liked Miss Patience White,
Ah all his school could tell.
One night the singing school had men;
Young Paine, all carelessly,
Had turned the leaves and said, “Well sing
On page one-seventy. ”
‘•See gentle patience smiles on pain.’*
On Paino they all then smiled,
But not so gently as they might;
Ami he, confused and wild,
Searched quickly for another piece,
As quickly gave it out ;
The merriment, suppressed before,
Bose now into a shout.
i
These wore the words that met his eyes
(He sank down with a groan),
“Oh, give me grief for other's woes,
And patience for my own!”
—Alice M. Roberts, in Oocxl Cheer.
SURF-STATION NO. 0.
BY REV. EDWARD A. RAND.
Thero were two persons sitting on the
doorstep of a station of tho life-saving
service. One wag Will Plympton and
tho other liked to write down his name
and calling as "Sam Walker, Surfman,
Station 9.” They were looking across
the white, chilly sands to the sea, that
under the tearing, exasperating strokes
of the wind hourly grew more and more
violent. The clouds had a scowling look.
It was uot a disturbed sky simply,
angry hero and there, hut everywhere
its face wns one of settled, ugly, morose
ness.
“Mischief brewin’,” said Ham.
“Yes; the wind has been busy at some
thing for tho past twenty-four hours,”
I replied Will.
“How white and ugly that surf is!
Looks to me na if it was all full of
sharks’ teeth, white and hard.”
“Somebody will [eel thorn when tho
storm breaks—at any rate, before it is
over.”
“Yes; I s’poso the vessel is on tho
water that has been quietly movin’ on to
meet its doom in this storm, and didn’t
know it more than yon and I know the
fnture.”
All this timo sea and sky had been
growing blacker.
Keeper Joel Barney, tho official head
of the crow at Station 9, stepped out of
tho station, and the conversation was
interrupted. When Sam and Will were
alone again, Sam said:
“That sea and mo feel alike, I guess,”
“Why?”
“Oh, I am not at all easy.”
Here Ham’s face seemed to darken like
the sky.
“What are yon thinking of?”
“I’m thinkin’ of somebody that
wronged mo once. That was in old
England. Wo wore both boatmen and
there was an extra chance at work we
both wanted, and Payno Chesloy set on
foot some stories that lost mo my old
place and kept me out of a better one.
Lies! lies 1” said Sam, vehemently
“all of them. ”
“Well, didn’t people see that?’’
“Yes, but too late to help me. If it
had been the truth, it couldn’t for the
time have hurt me more.”
“What’s false will wash off like mud.
it’s only what is true that sticks in and
stays and hurts. ”
But Sam was not disposed to dwell
on this side of the subject. He arose,
strode off grumbling, and sat down in
the station doorway.
“What makes me think of Payne
Chesley, I don’t know. I feel ngly as
that sea looks, and I don’t know but I
could put Payne Chesley under the
water if I had him. Seems to me ’twould
bo just sw'eet to do that. But that isn’t
the thing for an old chap like me,” he
said, meditatively. “We’ve got to swal
ler those feelin’s.”
Still blacker grew sea and skv.
Avery savory odor of old Java, fried
potatoes and biscuit now came from the
station kitchen, and the crew gathered
for supper.
“Storm broke,” safd Keeper Barney,
amid the rattling dishes; “I see the
rain on the window near mo.”
Just then Silas Peaslee came in from
the beach and his dripping “sou’wester”
told the story of the arrival of the rain.
“A bad night,” said Silas, “if a vessel
gets on Howlin’ Pint.”
But no vessel was so foolish as to do
that fatal thing.
The men on duty patrolled the beach
as the regulations require. Four times
between sunset and sunrise they tramped
from two to four miles each side of the
station. Each patrolman carried his
Coston signals, which could be lighted
at once, burning with a red flamo and
warning off any vessel that might be
discovered sailing too near the shore, or
announcing to any wrecked vessel that
help was near. But though keen eyes
! watched and quick ears listened, there
was no sign of vessels in danger or dis
tress. There was only that near and in
cessant thunder in the darkness, that
awiul roar of an invisible anger which
manifested itself in on occasional throw
1 of cold surf about the feet of the patrol-
men venturing too near the edge of the
sea.
The morning lighted np a confused
mass of white, struggling billows under
black, heavy masses of storm cloud that
swept the sea with pitiless discharges of
rain. The men at the station wore at
breakfast; when’ Arnold Rankin rushed
in shouting:
“There’s a wreck off here !”
“Boom—m—m 1” came the report of
a gun from the sea.
“That’s Arnold’s voucher,” cried
Keeper Barney, springing from his seat
and upsetting tho chair in his eagerness.
“Our surfboat cannot live in that sea.
Open the boat room doors. Man the
beach wagon, boys.”
Out upon the sands the cart was quick
ly rushed, and a wreck gun and other
apparatus taken from it. The gun was
placed in position, and a shot carrying
with it a light, strong line sent over the
wreck.
“They’ve got it I” said Sam Walker,
looking toward tho vessel, around which
boiled tho white surf. “They have made
it fnßt 1”
“Take two half hitches with the shot
lino round that whip,” shouted the
keeper, soon signaling to tho wreck to
haul onboard.
The “whip" was a larger line doubled
through n ninglo pulley-block, and it was
patiently hauled on hoard, followed by a
hawser. These two lines were made fast,
the hawser being secured above the
“whip” or endless line.
“Send tho life-car, boys,” said Keeper
barney. “Quick 1”
Every moment the storm seemed to
he gathering more force, as if to
resist the brave men in their
work of rescue. More heavily
rolled tho waves upon the shore;
tho wind cliargod up and down tho beach,
and roughly the rain splashed the faces
of the snrfmon. And yet how tho crew
worked, springing from duty to duty and
cheering heartily when they saw tho life,
oar riding along the hawser and hauled
out by moans of tho whip !
“They’ve loaded her up,” was the news
that Sam’s keen eyes enabled him to
communicate. “Four men have got into
her.”
••Ham asnoro . snontea tlio Keeper;
and Httfely across that turbulent sweep
of surf came the life-car. The hatch
was removed, and four men sprang npor
the beach.
“Haul out I" wns tho keeper’s ready
command, and hack to tho wreck wont
the car.
“It s a steamer, the men say,’ was
Arnold Rankin’s announcement to his
mates. “She’s in a bod fix and will
break up afore night, they think.”
Again and again went tho life-car on
its journey of mercy to tho wreck. At
last arrived those who said:
“Nobody else on board.”
“Look here 1” exclaimed one of the
steamer’s crew, coming from tho station,
whcro the resoned men had found
shelter; “there was one sick man. Has
he come ? Ho is not at the station.’’
Tho keeper looked around upon his
little circle of helpers.
“Boys,” ho said, “there’s a siok man
aboard. Are you sure, though, ho did
nor come?” ho asked, suddenly turning
to his informant.
“Sure os lam hero. Payne Chesley
is not at the station, and he is not on
the beach.”
“Payne Chesley 1”
Will Plympton heard the name, and
instantly looked at Sam’s face. He saw
Sam’s startled, intent gaze, and then
Sam said to the keeper:
“Somebody must go and get him.
I’ll volunteer.”
"I’ll go I I’ll go I” said several.
“Your ropes out there are weak,” said
one of the steamer’s crew; “there has
been so much strain on ’em. One will
be enough to go in that car; send your
strongest man. No easy thing bringing
a sick man to it. Whew ! If he ain’t
np I And lie signals, too ! I’d go if I
wasn’t bruised so.”
Upon that wreck the sharper eyes ot
the company could make out the form
of a man waving something—waving a
plea for life on the edge of that horrible
ghastly ocean-pit of water.
“I’m the strongest,” said Sam Walker,
proudly, and in proof he raised his
heavy, muscular arm.
Everybody knew it was as Sam as
serted. Into the car he went and the
hatch was closed after him. Keenly
every eye watched the passage of the
car to the steamer.
“I hope the ropes will hold,” mut
tered the keeper, looking off in the face
of the driving storm.
“Hurrah! He’s there 1” shouted the
men.
There was a season of anxious wait
mg.
“Haul ashore I” shouted the keeper.
'•Ker—r—ful, boys 1”
The car was near the beach, when
I suddenly the ropes gave way and over in
j the surf helplessly rolled the car.
“Form a line, boys. Lock close and
wade out as far as you can,” shouted the
keeper.
And, so, reaching out into that hungry,
grasping sea, they snatched from it the
food that the “sharks' teeth” in the surf
had almost won.
“Hurrah for Sam Walker !” was the
(lidding of Keeper Barney to his men.
But Sam Walker did not need the
pleasure afforded by that ovation. He
male this confession to Will Plympton.
‘‘l thought it would be sweet to put
Payne Ohesley under tho watef, but I
tell yon, Will, it was a good deal sweeter
to pull him out.”
A TRAGEDY RECALLED.
HKATII OF (180. W. ( ONKI.IN*;, Till!
Hi.AYKK OF W. 11. IIAVKKSTM’K.
The Scone In the “Pnrln” Flat An Hrrlna
Womit it’* Suicide A WroiiKril II unban ip*
Forglvcncmi.
[From the N. Y. Telegram.]
Tho news received from San Francisco
of the death there of George W. Conk
ling recalls the terrible tragedy of March,
1883, which took place at the “Paris”
Flat, No. 341 West Twenty-third street;
With Conkling’s death tho throo princi
pal figures of tho tragedy have passed
away. Gonkling died of consumption,
his erring sister, Mrs. Uhler, committed
suicide by taking morphine; the man who
led her from the path of duty, Wilbur H.
Haverstick, died at tho hands of her
brother; and tho only person connected
with the tragedy left is her husband, J.
Clement Uhler, a resident of New Jersey.
STORY OP THE TRAGEDY.
Mr. Uhler lived in Saq Franoisoo,
Cal., and did business as a mining
broker. In 1871 he met Emma H.
Conkliug, a beautiful girl, fell in love
with and married her. Asa business
man he was moderately successful, and
when the tide of mining speculation sot
back eastward he traveled with it. So,
too, did Wilbur H. Haverstick. He was
also a mining broker in San Franoisoo,
and though only thirty-two years of age
ho had achieved a marked sucooss in his
business. Uhler and his wife came to
New York about throo years ago, and
Haverstick came about the some time.
Both became members of tho New York
Mining Stock Exchange. Haverstick
was one of the original members of tho
American Mining Stock Exchange, and
was tho first to leave that for the New
York Exchange. Uhler and Haverstick
became partuors in business, and had
their office at No. 18 Wall street, under
the firm name of J. C. Uhler A Cos.
Haverstick Itecame a frequent visitor at
Uhler’s home, at No. 913 Seventh ave
nue, whore ho dwelt with his wife and
two children.
TITK SEPARATION.
Mrs. Uhler’s estrangement from her
husband followed and tho matter reached
publicity through a suit which Uhler
brought against Haverstick. This was
about two years ago. On her side, Mrs.
Uhler brought a suit against her hus
band for having rofusod her access to
her former homo. Both theso suits
wore pending when a pistol in tho hands
of George Oonkling entered a nolle pros.
Uhler and Haverstick separated in busi
ness. HAverstick had a brother and a
mother living in San Franoisoo. Tho
report of this soeial scandal of course
reached the ears of Mrs. Oonkling, the
mother of Mrs. Uhler, in San Francisco,
and it was at her solicitation that Conk
ling, her son, came on here from Nevada
in the latter part of February, 1883, to
do what he could to save tho family :
honor and spare the family pride.
* brother’s search.
Conkling, who was a government sur
veyor, and until shortly beforo the shoot
ing engaged in making field notes of the
State of Nevada, left his headquarters at
Reno early in February, 1883, and came
to New York city on the 28th of that
month, with the avowed intention of dis
covering his missing and erring sister.
He finally learned that she was living in
the “Paris.” Ho endeavored to effect a
reconciliation between her and her hus
and, but after dajfs of parleying the
young woman npsetj all negotiations by
declaring that as she had been untrue to
Uhler she would never live with him
again. She, however, consented to
abandon her paramour and return with
her brother V> his home in the West.
She agreed to meot her brother on the
night of the shooting. He came to the
“Paris” flat for her and met Haverstick,
who knew nothing of the arrangement.
The yonng surveyor told him, when
Haverstick flow into a rage and, seizing
a china statuette, threw it at Conkling.
The latter thereupon drew a revolver
and shot Haverstick, who died shortly
after.
Conkling was arrested, acquitted by
a Coroner’s jury, hut afterward was
jilaced under bonds for trial. The in
dictment against him was dismissed in
February last. Witli his sister, he soon
after left for Reno, Nevada. The next
heard of her was on the morning of Feb.
14 last, when she was taken in a dying
condition from the house of a woman
named Adams, but known as “The
Water Queen,” at 38 West Twenty
ninth street. She was taken to the New
York Hospital, where she died in a few
hours. She had left her brother and
friends in tire West, and going to New
York city, entered upon a life of dissipa
tion. Often to the women with whom
she associated she expressed her abhor
rence of her brother for killing tho man
she loved. She was arrested several
times for disorderly conduct hut never
punished. She became very poor and
on the night of February T3 took mor
phine with suicidal intent. : Her body
was saved from a pauper’s burial by her
husband, who had it interred in a New
Jersey Cemetery.
“I HERD,” is the way the cowboy be
gins his conversation.
NO. 24.
THE LIME-KILN CLUB.
i
WOKIW l)P WISIMMI hit (111 I’AItADIMIC
11A1.1,.
Til.' President DUlmntM 1111 Asltntor nml Sets
Him Adrift.
[From tho Dotroit Free Frees.,
By actual count there wore forty-tkroo
members of the club coughing and
sneezing at the moment the triangle
sounded, and it was not until four min
utes after the echoes died away that tho
President aroso from behind his desk
and said:
“If Socrates Hpikeroot am in de hall
dis evenin’ I would like to see him out
heah in front of de desk.”
Socrates had just crowded himself in
between tho stove and tho wood-box,
calculating to get warmth enough to
last him until tho next meeting, and ho
didn’t look over-pleased at being dis
turbed. When ho had limped along to
the desk, one hand in his pocket and
the other digging into his wool, Brother
Gardner continued:
“How long have yon bin a member of
dis club ?”
“ ’Bout six months, sab.”
“Um 1 It has been ’bout three months
since I fust had my eyes on you, an’ to
night you sober your counexnn wid dis
club. Misser Spikeroot, it was under
stood when yon jined dis club dat yon
was a barber. Has you barbed anybody
or anythin’ since dat date ?”
“I—l—no, sab.”
“On do contrary, yon has loafed aroun
saloons an" policy shops an’ queer
places, nn’ no man has known you to do
on honost day’s work. We doan’ hanker
artc-r sieh members as yon. When a
poo’ man kin lib widout labor people
have a right to ho suspislins of him.
Biudder Givoadam Jones, you will escort
dis pusson to do donh. If, when he gits
dar’, ho should utter any remark deroga
tory to de character of de Lime-Kiln
Club, you needn’t put do Bogardus
kicker at work. Let him go in peace.
What he kin say won’t hurt us, an’
you might kick too hard an’ break a leg.”
After tho late deceased had been shown
out and order restored, the President
said :
“Gom’len, if dar am any mo’ agita
tors in do hall I want ’em to listen eloso
ly. Socrates Spikeroot used to be a
hard-workin’ man. All to once he got
do idoali dat capital was oppressin’ la
bor. He quit aimin’ 812 per week be
kaso he didn’t want to be oppressed. In
a month ho became a dead-beat. While
it am a serious offence fur oapitnlists to
oppress labor, it am all right for a Iticltor
to go aroun’ borrowin’ money, runnin’ in
debt, an’ stealin’ his wood. A few
weeks ago Mister Spikeroot got lone
some, an’ began to agitate. Ho went to
var’us laborin’ men an’ convinced ’em
dat de man who aims his 812 or 814 por
wcok orter turn out and mob de capital
ists who furnish him de chance.
“He am now an agitator. He has got
faeks an’ figgors to prove dnt de work
in' man who owns his cottage and kin
aim a good support far wife an’ ohill’en
am do most oppressed bein’ on de faco
of dis airth. When a saloon turns him
out ho threatens to boycott it. When a
man refuses to lend him money he am
called a bloated monopolist. When his
wife wants shoos or his ohill’en cry fur
bread, he comforts’em wid do statement
dat America am bnildin' up an aristoc
racy to lord it over do poo’ men an’
grind ’em to powder. If Miaser Spike
root lias loft any friends behind, an op
portunity will now be giben ’em to pick
up deir hats an’ feet an’ trabble.”
There was a deep silonco for a minute,
and as no one traveled the President
signed for the Secretary to proceed
with the regular order of business.
Tliad. Stevens’ Strong Individuality.
His whole life was shadowed by a de
formity in tho foot, which caused slight
lameness and gave a morbid sensitive
ness to liis natnro. Whilo in New Yoik
iio desired to join the lodge of Free
Masons, lint this physical defect rendered
him ineligible. He was much chagrined
and became a most violent and pro
nounced opponent of tho order, never
losing an opportunity to denounce it in
unspairing terms. This hatred took a
strong political bias and from that time
lie was one of tho most bitter and unre
lenting anti-Masons. His strong individ
uality impressed every one who ever met
him and his sayings and doings are still
remembered in many characteristic inci
dents. Judge Dnrkee, who, like Stevens,
was a Vermonter, and was an ardent and
devoted admirer of that gentleman, told
mo he was once engaged in trying a
case with him and received a letter
which was positively unreadable. He
gave the letter to a friend promising a
liberal percentage of the prospective fee
if she would translate it. Slio earned
her reward after some hours’ hard work
on the epistle. His writing consisted of
two or tlireo letters in the beginning of
a word, followed by an irregular scrawl.
Ho was once asked to read a letter of
advice which he had written a client.
He glanced over it, found himself quite
unable to read it, arid handed it back
with "Humph, I don’t write letters to
read myself. I wrote it for you to read.”
A gentleman once wrote asking an
opinion, but neglected to inclose the
customary fee. With grim humor Ste
vens returned a blank sheet of paper by
next post. —Philadelphia Press,
THE HUMOROUS PAPERS.
WHAT WK FIND* IN THEM TO SJIII.B
OVER TIIIH UKUK,
I
MUSICAL NOTE.
Otis De Smith imagines that ho Is the
best solo singer in Austin, but nobody
else thinks so. Whenever ho is present
nt a social gathering, he bribes some
body present to call on him for a song,
and then he warbles forth a madrigal
that has a depressing effoot ovou on the
real estate in Hint neighborhood. After
a performance of this kind a few nights
ago, Mrs. MoSpillkins, who does not
live happily with her husband, remarked
to Gus, with whom she is quite familiar:
“Oh, how I wish my husband could
sing like that.”
“Ah!” responded Gus; “I expect you
would like it. There would be more
harmony in tho family.”
“It’s not that, hut if ho sung like you,
I’d have no trouble getting n divorce on
the ground of cruelty and brutal treat
ment.”
Then Gus ceased to smile and smirk.
—Texas Siftings,
HE IIAD NO LAWYER.
Old Dan had used his neighbor’s fence
as firewood and ho was accordingly
brought before tho court to answer for
the same.
“Have yon any lawyer for defense ?”
asked the judge as Dan took his place.
“No, sor, I hah not,” replied the
negro. “Kaso yo’ know, jedgo, taint de
fence what needs a lawyer, hit am dis
po’ niggah dat am in fur it; I spec yer
better pint one for him.” —Cincinnati
Commercial.
TROUBLE EXPECTED.
Struggling Surgeon—“No, dear, I
cannot go calling with yon to-night.”
His Wife—“But yon promised that
yon would.”
“I know it, dear, but onr finances are
very low and I must not lose a chance to
got a fee.”
“lint what chanco will you lose ? No
patients have sont to you for a week ”
“I know it, doar, hut I expect to be
summoned for t^ very important surgical
case, perhaps a brokon leg, beforo the
evening is over.”
“Whcro to?”
“Across tho way. Mrs. Brown over
there is house cleaning, ant!4
Mr. Brown going homo with a step lad
dor.”—Phita. Call.
HE KICKED.
A farmers’ mutual insurance company,
doing liusiuess in Virginia, had a meet
ing of directors tho other day, and after
the transaction of routine business, one
of the Board rose up and said:
‘‘l notice among the hills of expense
one for $3 for printing our annual state
ment on 4,000 postal cards.”
“That's all right,” explained tho Pres
ident.
“How all right? Don’t wo employ
a secretary at a salary of SIOO per
year ?”
“Yes, and the secretary prepared
tho copy and contracted for the print
ing.”
“I don’t say he didn’t, but I’d like to
know what business he had to conirnct
for any snch printing when wo furnish
him pens and ink. It was his duty to
write out them cards, sir, and I, for one,
shall kick against any such oxtrava
ganoo.”— Wall Street News
BPECIAIi RATES FOR SPECULATORS.
A Brooklyn man who hit wheat for a
few thousand dollars last week rushed
around and rented a brown-stone front,
and then sought tL' -ervices of a furni
ture mover.
“I’ll take it by tho job and do tho fair
tiling by you,” replied the mover.
"Well, how fair ?”
“I’ll say fifty dollnrs for the two.”
“Wlmt two?”
“Why, the moving this week into the
brown-stone, and tho moving, in about a
month, from that into a cheap frame
house in the suburbs ! I always job tho
two moves together in the oaso of nggrain
speculator 1”
A WTFEIiT HINT.
Mr. B. —“Here is something in this
paper that you ought to know.”
Mrs. B.—“ What is that?”
Mr. B.—“A recipe for getting rid of
rats and mice. It says that wild mint
scattered about tho house will soon olear
them out.”
Mrs. B. —“Mint? That is what you
are so awfully fond of, isn’t it ?”
Mr. B.—“ Well, yes, I rather like
mint. But I wonder why it clears out
rats and mice ?”
Mrs. B.—“ Probably when they smell
the mint they eon chid ■ that the man of
tlie house is a hard drinker, and that
therefore tho cupboard is empty.”
Mr. B. changed the mibject.—Phila
delphia Call,
A BTT.LV STATKMKNT.
Mrs. Blank —"What a silly statement 1
Hero is n New York paper saying that
large numbers of fashionable ladies have
long been doing their own millinery 1"
Mr. Blank “Hilly i Well, I should
say it was.”
"Anybody might know there was no
truth in that report. ”
"Yes, especially since tho receipt of
the latest news from New York.”
"News, what news ?”
“That the husbands of several fashion
ablo ladies havo just failed for
810,000,000.”
Horry for General Brant.
Referring to the failure of General
Grant, a leading broker in London says:
“Wo are all sorry for the General, but
the same sort of thing lias happened here
over and over again. I could give you the
names of a dozen generals, admirals and
colonels who, having retired from their
profession with honor, have sought to in
crease their limited incomes by dabbling
in companies and financiering. The re
sult is always the same. They get into
the hands of some designing person who
rades on their name and involves them
in disgrace and min.”