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o* VC4ff o o^ an <?a olAiv>,0 lA iv>,
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v FOR SALE BY
I ’ll \ UR <fc C/\IN.
SUMMERVILLE, GA.
■<-«X
Davis
The lightest running Shuttle Sewing
Machine ever produced, combining
greatest simplicity, durability and
speed. It is adapted to a greater va
riety of practical and fancy work than
any other. No basting ever required.
For particulars as to prices, <fcc., and
for any desired information, address
IHE DAVIS SEWING MACHINE CO.,
WATERTOWN, N. Y.
158 Tremort St., Boston, Mass.
1223 Chestnut St., Philadelphia, Pa.
113 Public Square, Cleveland, Ohio.
46, 48 & 50 Jackson St., Chicago, 111.
For sale in Summerville b;
J. 8. CLEGHORN A CO.
ALABASTINE
A Superior Substitute
for Kalsomine, etc >
Alaha.-'.iiio 1.- first and- preparation
made front e uGiv I■■ ; n rock, for appli
calion ti ■■ i. an lis fullv cov-
Ih. ■ -I ; ie-.l bv many years
< rit.i a.; <le.- ; tel, one over ano her. to any
hard surface, without danger of scaling, or
noticeably adding to the thickness of the
wall, winch is strengthened and improve 1 by
each additional coat, from time to time. It
is the only material fur the purpose not de
pendem upon glue for its adhesiveness.
Alr.bnstine is hardened on the wail by ago,
moisture, etc.., while all kalsomines or whit
enmg preparations have inert, soft chalks
mid glue for their base, which are rendered
soft or -cak'd in a very short time.
In addition to the. above advantages,
Aialiaetinc is lesj expensive, as it requires
but one-half the number of pounds to cover
the same amount of surface with two coats,
is ready for use by adding water, and easily
applied by any one.
For rale by your Paint Dealer. Ask for
Circular containing Samples of 12 tints,
manufactured only by the Alabastixe Co.,
M. B. Chlbch, Manager, Grand liapids, Mich.
* PURE r-
VOW
PAINTS
ReadyForUse
Olives, Terra Cottas and all the latest
fashionable shades for
CITY COUNTRY OR SEASIDE.
Warranted durable and permanent.
Descriptive Lists, showing 32 actual
shades, sent on application.
For sale by the principal dealers,
wholesale and retail, throughout the
country.
Ask for them and take no others.
BILLINGS, TAYLOR & GO.
CLEVELAND, OHIO.
GREAT STRENGTH OF SLVXEBS.
“My dear boy,” said an earnest Sun
day-school teacher at the North End
Mission to a frowsy urchin, “do you
know that we are al! sinners ?”
“Yes, marm.”
“Do you know that you are a sinner?”
“Yes, marm.”
A long and earnest talk followed, in
which the claims of the gospel were
fully set forth, but the teacher was only
rewarded by an unintelligible stare.
Finally, it occurred to the teacher
that perhaps she had taken the boy be
yond h' - depth, and she inquired:
“John, you know what a sinner is, j
don’t you ?"
“Sinners, m.-.rm? ch, yes; sinners is '
Strings in turkeys* legs, ton G'obe. j
@ljc
VOL XL
•I
SANDS’ —-■»
PATENT TRIPLE
FREEZERX
The only Freezer ever made having three distinct
motions inside the can. thereby, of course, produc
ing finer and smoother Cream than any other
Freezer on the market.
300,000 in use. Catalogue and Price List
Jbailed upon application.
WHITE MOUNTAIN FREEZER CO.,
NASHUA, N. H.
A RAILROAD DISASTER
({cminlMccDcrs of the Accident at Gasco
nade Bridge In .UiwNonri.
The presence in Denver of Mr. O. A.
Reed, the Chicago Traveling Agent of
.he Chicago, Burlington A Quincy Rail
way, calls to miad one of the most hor
rible railway disasters that is known
in the annals of railroading. It occurred
in October, 1857, at the. time of the
opening of the Missouri Pacific Railway
from St. Louis to Jefferson City, Mis
souri, and it is known as the Gasconade
i bridge disaster. In the morning of the
day on which the accident happened
sixteen coaches filled with the most
prominent men of St. Louis started out
from that city filled with the brightest
anticipations ol a delightful trip, and
among the passengers was Mr. Reed. In
the train there was also a commissary
car filled with the choicest wines and
liquors, and amply supplied with eata
bles. Eighty-eight miles west of St.
Louis the Gasconade River empties into
the Missouri, and within sight of the
latter stream the railway stream crosses
tho Gasconade. The bridge over the
Gasconade had been tested, aud so con
fident was the engineer who built it that
he rode upon the locomotive. When
the train reached this bridge the passen
gers wore in the midst of luncheon, and
the white-aproned darkeys were in the
act of carrying tho wines and liquors
through the cars, and no thought of
danger appeared to enter the minds of a
single one of the hundreds who were
upon the train. Suddenly the crash
came and tho engine plunged through
the broken bridge into the river below.
It was followed by several of the cars,
while all but one of the others were
jerked from tho rails and thrown across
the track. A scene which is beyond de
scription followed and the destruction of
life was fearful. Mr. Reed wa s sitting next
to the window, about the centre of one
of the cars, and he attributes his escape
to the fact that he had just a moment or
so before raised the window. The
weather was misty and he desired to
look at a steamboat which was opposite
them in the Missouri River, and he
raised the window for the purpose of
getting a clearer view. When the crash
came his car plunged forward into the
water, but the rear portion of it rested
on the unbroken part of the bridge. Mr.
Reed caught the side of the window
with his hands and this prevented him
from falling into the front part of the
car, as it stood upon end in the water.
Almost all the other passengers fell, a
confused and mangled mass, into the
end of the car and with them went the
stove aud other articles not securely
fastened. The gentleman who sat in the
same seat with Mr. Reed was one of
those who fell forward, and he was also
among the killed. Altogether there
were forty-four persons killed in the ac
cident and about fifteen subsequently
died from their injuries. There was
only one lady in the party and she es
caped without the slightest injury. The
civil engineer who built the bridge and
who was riding on the engine was among
the dead.
To this day the accident on the Gas
conade bridge is spoken of in Missouri
as one of the most horrible of which the
people of that State have any knowl
edge.—Denver Tribune.
Doctor (who has been sent for at
2 a. m.)—“Madame, pray send at once
for the clergyman, and, if you want to
rank- yonr will, for the lawver.”
Madame (horrified) —“Good gracious !
Is it so dangerous, doctor?” Doctor—
“ Not a bit of it; but I don’t want to be
the only fool who has been disturbed in
his sleep for nothing.”
New Style Cabman (to military-look -
ing chap on the avenue)—Hansom,
Captain? Supposed Military Chap—
“ Well, y-e-s—so they tell me. Cab
man (softo voce)—The bloody mug
wump.”—Life
- —— - -
A correspondent asks if it is proper to
i dance with a married lady when her
i husband is looking on. Certainly. The
dancing is sure to be very proper under
i such circumstances,
SUMMERVILLE. GEORGIA. WEDNESDAY EVENING. OCTOBER 8, 1884.
ZA Mom.
The Day is dead. Bee how his life-blood dyes
Tho soft cloud-pillows in the western skies.
What tho’ a smile still glorifies his eyes ?
I tell you he is dead 1 Why loiter here
Till those unsightly proofs of death appear,
And the sad Night drops tears upon his bier?
Nay, let us go, while yet the skies aro red,
Ere Darkness draws the curtains of his bed,
Our last look finds him beautiful, tho’ dead.
Dear Love is dead; slain by his own delight,
What tho’ his feverish cheek is strangely
bright,
I tell you he lies dead in all his might
Let us not wait till on his rigid face
There rests no lingering luster, aud no trace
Os his surpassing beauty and young grace;
Ere ’round his stiffening frame, from head to
feet,
; Satiety shall fold her winding sheet,
While his still form, tho’ dead, is fair and
sweet.
Let us shake hands. There is no more to say.
We part with Love until the Judgment Day—
Tins is the end of dreams like ours alway.
Ella Wheeler.
' Mount Desert.
BY 0. E. DAVIS.
“Aud so you leave Mount Desert and
pleasure to-morrow, Miss Young? You
have made the summer doubly pleasant
to me—pleasant as I always find vaca
tion time.”
“It is very good of you to say so, Mr.
Darley, and I’m snre you have made
Mount Desert very pleasant to us. In
deed, my mother was saying only this
morning how useful and nice to us yon
have been. But, you see, she must bo
getting back to New York now; there
are the boys going away to school, and
all that.”
“Well, I suppose it is necessary. But
you won't like leaving ?”
“Why, of course it is. No, I shall be
very sorry to leave; and yet I shall be
glad for some things to get back. It will
feel so much like home after all this
traveling and seeing all these things.”
“Yes, no doubt you will bless the
first brick house and dull pavements
you see in town ; they give your eyo
such a sense of relief and quiet.”
“You are going to stay on here some
time with Mr. Paget, are you not? He
tells mo now you have left the hotel
where you met us, you have got such
pleasant rooms. ”
“No, I don’t think I shall stay on
here any longer after this week.”
“Why, I thought you intended to
stay right on into the fall, and he in
tended to read all the gossiping old his
torians, and you meant to hunt up every
kind of fish that could possibly live in
these cold Maine waters,”
“So I did ; but I’m not going to now.
I’m going to leave. I’m tired to death
of it.”
“Why, just now you said it was al
ways pleasant; and what will Mr. Paget
do ?”
“Oh, Paget I Paget I I suppose he’ll
come with me or else he won’t. I used
to think Mount Desert pleasant, but I
don’t now.”
“Well, you are a changeable person.”
“So would you be if But do you
really think me a changeable person,
Miss Young ?”
“No, Mr. Darley, I don’t think—at
least I didn’t think that you were ?”
“Well, but what did you think about
me? I think you thought something
about me.”
“Perhaps I did. One thinks some
thing about everybody, you know; but
perhaps I don’t think it now. ”
“I suppose you thought something
about Mr. Paget, too?”
“Oh, yes, I thought something about
Mr. Paget, of course. I like him very
much.”
“But how differently did you think
when you thought about Mr. Paget and
myself ?”
“That’s a very difficult question. I
—at least we—thought you very nice,
too; but ”
“But—but what, Miss Young?”
“Oh, nothing, except that I thought
so.”
“But I want to ask you how differ
ently you thought, and I want you to
understand me, and not to look too
serious.”
“Why, you don’t think I’m serious,
do you ?”
“Well, as a rule, you are not serious,
certainly; yon are delightfully gay. But
there is a certain quality of seriousness
about you; and you are always very
serious when I want to say anything to
to you. Remember how serious you
were that day when we looked at the
old wharves over in Rockland ?”
“Yes, but that was some time ago,
and But let us talk of something
else and be friends.”
“But we are friends, are we not?
Only ”
“I say, Darley, come along. Mrs.
Young says she’d like to look inside the
new hotel before we get into the car
riage. though it does look like a meet-
Tig-house except for the tower.”
“Oh, I don’t care for the hotel,
thanks, and I believe, Miss Young, you
would, would you not, prefer to finish
yonr sketch of that yacht ? It will lie
<.on done now.”
“Yes, perhaps, I should ; that is, I
think that I ought to finish it.”
•‘Ail right, Paget: we’ll join you in
five minutes- I’d just like‘to sketch
the coast in the distance myself; it looks
so well just now with the sun on it.”
“Well, don't be long coming down.”
“Had you not better get your sketch
book out now they have gone, Mr. Dar
ley, and begin the coast ?”
“Oh, my sketch-book I Oh, I suppose
I have forgotten it!’’
“Never mind, here’s a leaf from my
block; and here’s a pencil.”
“Thanks; but I don’t want to sketch
at all.”
“You are changeable, indeed I”
“I want to sit here aud talk to you
and look at you, as you are going away
to-morrow.”
“But if you look at mo 1 shall be em
barrassed and unable to sketch. 100. Be
sides, you know tho coast looks so well
just now, with the sun on it.”
“Bother tho coast.”
“What, tho coast that yon nsed to
rave about, with its grass mosses of rock
aud the white spray darting up in clouds
against it! You used to say it reminded
you of what—what did it remind
you of ?”
“I really don’t know. Bnt I wish
you were not going away to-morrow. I
don’t know when I shall see you again,
if I ever do.
“Why, mother asked yon to come
and see us, if yon ever found yourself in
New York.”
“If I ever do! I suppose I should
run over from Boston and you will ask
me to dinner; and then you would show
me your house, and, perhaps, your fa
vorite seat in the library; and Mrs.
Young would be very distant, and you
would bo very stiff and reserved, and un
like what you are at Mt. Desert.”
“What a splendid picture, down to
the easy-chair, even ! And my good
brother will look at yon through his eye
glass, and offer you a cigar, and say
queer fellow or good fellow of you,
‘should think,’ when you ore gone. But
you won’t really leave Mt. Desert?”
“Yes, I shall, and knock about some
where, spending my time as uselessly ns
1 usually spend it. But do you truly
expect mo to come some day, Miss
Young?”
“Yes; I shall be very much disap
pointed if you don’t come. We have
been such ttood friends, and mother
likes you, and—and wo have been such
good friends, you know.”
“Then I certainly shall try to come.
And, perhaps—will you let mo begin to
talk again as I did that day at Rock
land ?”
“I don’t know. But I can’t sketch if
you put your arm across my block, Mr.
Darley. And I think it’s quite finished
now—l could finish it at home.”
“Never mind finishing it; let us finish
something else, which may remain un
finished forever if wo don’t do it now.
Please look mo in (he eyes, and let me
go on with what I said on the beach at
Rockland a month ago. Only then you
said it was very painful and sudden, and
you had never dreamed of it. Have
you ever done so since ?”
“Mr. Darley, I think—but I hear
Mr. Paget calling. We must go home. ”
“Bnt may I not come home with you
—I mean to New York, and further?
Will you not trust mo to fin I you a
home ?”
“Darley, Darley, where are you?”
“Your eyes look yes, and your lips
say ‘Yes.’ Thank you, thank you; it
shall be indeed a home.”
“Darlev. 1 say. didn’t vou hear me?
What a long five minutes your sketch
takes! It’s getting late, and Mrs.
Young is in the carriage. But—l hope
nothing is the matter, Miss Young ?”
“No; nothing at all, thank you.”
“No, nothing is the matter, Paget,
and I’m sorry for being so late. But,
you see, Miss Young and I have settled
—I mean we have arranged- -to leave
Mount Desert and go homo—to make a
homo, you understand.” Domestic
Monthly.
An Adventure in a Bridge.
Once upon a time—a good many years j
ago—a lady and gentleman got permis
sion to walk through tho tubular bridge
at Conway, Ireland, which was then a
curiosity. A railway porter was with
them and told them no train was expect
ed on that line, so they went into the
tube and darkness. A strange gentle
man who had joined them went on first,
because tho lady could not go so quick
ly and, of course, her husband remained
to assist her over the rails and stones
and the girders which support the sides.
But when the couple had got half
way through the first man was at the
end and saw the down Irish mail ap
? proaching on the very line on which his
, acquaintances were 1 He called out.
“Take care of yourselves, a train is com
ing,” and then he waved his hands to the
engine driver. The lady and gentleman
in the ‘tube” could not stand up at the
side and so they hurried back. It was
a terrible race. The “Wild Irishman”
whistling and roaring, hissing and strain
ing at the brakes close behind; in front
only a few yards to the station, bnt such
long yards 1 On came the train, and
just as the gentleman rushed from the
“tube” and dragged the lady down, the
express came out grinding and growling.
They were only just saved by two yards
from a terrible death.— Little Folks'
Mauazine.
—
We have noticed that people who go
to watering places for change always
take particular pains to carry plenty of
it with them,
MEN AND MULES RUN MAD.
AN EPIDEMIC OF fl YDKOPIfOB! \ ON
AN ALABAMA PLANTATION.
Thlny-Kvo Ncgro?M Ni< k from Entiii« a Plr
Unit hml liven Bitten by a Mnd !»<»«—Tin*
Plnnter’a Wild Itnccto Escape n Al ml Mule.
A dispatch from Eufaula, Ala., dated
Aug. 28th says:—The people in this
neighborhood are in a state of tremen
lons excitement over the wholesale
spread of hydrophobia on the plantation
of Punch Doughtie. Dr. E. B. Johnson
has just returned from Mr. Doughtie’s
plantation where ho had been sum
moned. Ho found thirty-two persons
suffering with a disease which he at once
pronounced hydrophobia in a mild form.
All the sufferers are negroes. Three
of them are desparately sick, one being
in the throes of delirium, and so low
that the doctor says he is liable to die
at any moment.
More than three weeks ago a hog bit
ten by a dog died on Mr. Doughtie’s
plantation and was given to the negroes
to be converted into soap grease. In
stead of utilizing it for this purpose,
thirty-two negroes on the place and in
tho neighborhood ate tho flesh of the
hog.
Mr. Dough tie says that on July 25,
one of his dogs wont mad and bit a mule
and several hogs. On Aug. 13, the first
hog died, and was eaten by the negroes.
Two more died on Aug 18, one on Aug.
22, and one on Aug. 27, and all were
eaten except the last, when the partak
ers of the poisoned flesh became sick.
Tho mule exhibited signs of madness on
the nineteenth day after being bitten.
Eleven days after the hog was eaten, ten
of the negroes were taken sick. Two
days ago another dog was discovered to
be mad, and was killed after having bit
ten a mule. Another dog on the lot is
now housed, and will be experimented
with for a cure. Tho dog that bit the
mule and hogs disappeared, and the
whole neighborhood is in terror lest
ho went among the cattle and hogs
throughout the belt before dying.
A dozen out of the thirty-two eaters
of tho affected hogs are seriously sick,
and the developments among the others
are awaited with the greatest interest.
Dr. Johnson, an able physician, says
that it is a terrible case, aud that he
fears the worst. He says that it would
not surprise him if tho greater number
of the thirty-two persons died.
A few days ago Mr. Dough tie rode
out, at the request of a field hand, to
inspect the condition of one of his mules,
which was acting strangely. On reach
ing the pasture where a dozen mules
were, the animal Mr. Doughtie was
riding neighed, which attracteu the at
tention of the other animals, and tue sick
one particularly, which immediately
rushed on the mule and rider, and seized
the saddle of the animal with his teeth.
Mr. Doughtie dismounted and succeeded
in loosening the mad mule’s hold, but
no sooner was this done than the infuri
riated beast turned upon his owner, who
fled for his life, pursued by the mule.
There was a desparate race of a quarter
of a mile through undergrowth, and Mr.
Doughtie only saved himself by dodging
around saplings. A small stretch of
clearing intervened between the woods
and the house, and the terrified man
took a life-and-death chance on making
it. Before leaving the woods the mule
had bitten out a piece of Mr. Doughtie’s
coat, and while manmuvring around the
tree, the animal bit himself savagely in
several places, tearing out a mouthful of
flesh each time. The race for the house
was a close one, and just as Mr. Dough
tie reached the top of the fence the
mule overtook him on a dead run, but
instead of reaching his victim, struck
his head against a fence post in a wild
rush and was knocked senseless. The
mule was afterward killed by Mr.
Bought ie.
It is now reported that the whole
herd of mules are affected. Many of
them have leaped the fences and will
doubtless, spread the disease among
other animals in the neighborhood. The
community is at a loss how to arrest the
disease.
-
Ron nd Hats.
Harper's .Bazar says: Round hats
are in the ample and compact shape
worn during the summer, with rather
high crown, and a narrow brim that is
rolled alike on both sides and in front,
or it may be pointed upward directly
above the forhead, or slightly wider on
the left side, but it is always very nar
row behind, hats being designed, as the
bonnets are, to be worn with the hair
dressed high. Felt hats trimmed with
velvet and a bunch of feathers directly
in front will be most used, but there are
also many velvet hats trimmed with
China crape that may be plain or else
embroidered with gold. The velvet
trimming is a smooth or folded band
around the crown, and a facing on the
brim. The ornamental galloons and
passementeries are sometimes added on
this velvet facing. Wing clusters made
up of small pointed wings are much
used on round hats. The shapely point
ed Pierrot hats, sugar-loaf crowns, and
melon-shaped crowns, are shown in felt
and cloth for girls and misses. The
Tam o’Slianter is also imported, made
of cloth red, blue, gray, or brown—
embroidered with crescents or sprays
Jone iu gilt threads or in silk of tfie
same or a contrastiug color,
NO. 38.
THE LAST MATCH.
A Little Sketch of tho 111-fated Gtecly
Expedition.
Old soldiers who remember the picket
line and the rifle pit, old hunters, and
even the experienced picknicker, know
well what it is to be reduced to the last
match. That sole occupant of the
pocket match-safe is the last chance for
a fire, for a torch in the thick darkness,
for a savory meal or a dish of tea, for a
flash of light on a watch face or a com
pass. So, too, it may be all that inter
poses between the destruction and the
deliverance of a lost or shipwrecked
band.
Few incidents of the famous Greely
expedition to the northern seas make so
vivid an impression upon the mind as one
recorded by Sergeant George B. Rice,
who did not live to return to his homo
and friends. A sledge party was de
tailed to visit and examine Hall’s Rest
on the coast of Greenland. In the
course of this expedition the stock of
matches that the men had brought was
reduced to one. It was a miserably
cold evening, when the shivering group
of men gathered in their damp tent to
watch the attempt to ignite, by this sin
gle match, the spirit lamp upon which
their lives depended. The lamp once
lighted, there was warmth and warm
food at their command; the lamp un
lighted, there was not vital force left in
the party to resist the fatal chill of the
Arctic night. With what breathless in
terest the experiment was watched, we
can scarcely imagine.
“The match,” wrote Sergeant Rice in
his diary, “ snapped, crackled, and
showed a little flame which by dexterous
management was communicated to tho
wood and triumphantly applied to the
wick of the spirit lamp. But, the wick
is wet from the falling moisture of tho
tent 1 It sputters fizzles the match
itself is burned up to the benumbed fin
gers of the holder, when one of the
agonized spectators springs from his bag
aud, with admirable presence of mind,
withdraws from his breast pocket a
document, which he holds to the expir
ing match in time to perpetuate its fire.
They are saved 1”
But this is not all the story. Tho ser
geant intimates that the “document”
that saved their lives was far more pre
cious than anything documentary. It
was the last fond and tender epistle
wnich its owner had received from his
sweetheart before sailing. He had worn
it as an amulet next his heart, and
would have died rather than surrender
it at any ordinary call. To save his
comrades be drew it forth, and gave it
to nourish the flame which alono could
warm them back to life.
Sergeant Rice concludes the day’s en
try by expressing the wish that tho
burning of the letter to assist the match
made on earth may conduce to the con
summation of the “match made in
heaven.” Who will not lament that the
worthy and witty soldier did not survive
to witness the realization of his desire ?
The Latest Fashions,
AUTUMN DRESSES.
The woolen dresses imported for street
suits for the early autumn aro distin
guished by severe plainness in design
and in trimmings, depending for their
beauty on the fine fit of the corsage and
the graceful flowing lines of the skirt
and its drapery. The corsage may, if
preferred, be a simple round waist with
out basque or sash, merely finished by a
belt ribbon with front bow. This round
waist is long, and has high darts that
give an appearance of slenderness; the
back may have either one or two side
forms on each side, and there is a seam
down the middle; the standing collar is
very high and the shoulders are short,
meeting a sleeve that is rounded high on
the front, but which has less of the pad
ded puffed fullness about the armhole
than those lately worn. These details
are confined to the lining of the dress,
as the outside may be put on in varied
ways; thus it may be laid smoothly up
on the lining or it may be gathered at
the neck and waist line in front and back,
or else the gathers may be confined to
the front only and the back may be
quite plain; or, again, the fullness may
1 be only at the bolt and spread out in fan
! style, becoming plain on tho shoulders;
or, still further, this fullness may be
1 held in small pleats or tucks instead of
gathers. The preference, however, for
heavy wool goods is for the plain smooth
waist, and this can be diversified by in
troducing a vest, or a square plastron
which may be full or flat, or by the use
of revers or bretelles extending from the
shoulders to the waist. Modistes here
prefer to make round waists separate
from the skirt, lengthening it a few
inches below the waist line, and thrust
ing that part under the belt to which the
skirts are attached; on English dresses,
however, the skirts are sewed perma
nently to the waist, which is finished by
a welting cord in the old fashioned way.—
Harvefs Bazar.
“James, 1 nnd a Dad quarter in the
till; have you any idea where it came
from ?” “No, sir; that is, I should say,
do yon, ah, do you attend the Tenth
Church, sir?” “Yes.” "Don’t Deacon
Swift take up tho collection, sir?”
“Yes.” “Well, Deacon Swift was in
here a short time ago and bought somo
sugar— ’’ “You uwtf go to <lixuier,
James,*
THE HUMOROUS PAPERS.
WHAT WE FIND IN THEM TO HMII.E
OVER.
A LITTLE QUARREL.
Two ladies bad had a little tiff, and
one ol them remarked as she departed:
“Well, as I told my husband this
morning, I shouldn’t care to be in your
shoes.”
“I imagine not,” the other replied.
“You would find them painfully close
fitting.”
WITH A KEEN SENSE.
“Look here,” said Colonel Bloster,
addressing an acquaintance whom ho
suddenly met in turning a corner, “you
aro a very long time in paying that bilk
You do not seem to care.”
“Oh, yes I do, Colonel.”
“No, sir, you do not. You do not
seem to remember your obligation.”
“Oh, T remember it, Colonel. If I
did not, I would not cross the street to
avoid meeting you. I have a keen sense
of obligation, otherwise I would not bo
' put to so much trouble.”
“Now here; you are not acting right
ly. Just put yourself in my place
and——”
“Impossible, Colonel. I cannot put
myself in your place. I cannot imagine
yonr feelings, for no one ever owed me.”
—Arkansaw Traveler.
THE LONG, LONG DAY.
Visitor to Nantucket—For goodness’
sake tell me what you do here in the
winter?
Native—Oh, we get on pretty well.
We go to bed at sunset and sleep next
day till noon; then wo get up and pray
for night to come, that we may go to
bed again.”— Boston Transcript.
A CRUEL MAN.
Mother (to married daughter)—“Why,
What’s the matter, Clara? What are yon
crying about?”
Clara—“ Henry is so cruel (sob), he
is getting worse and worse every day
(sob). What do you suppose he said
just now? He told me I must get rid
of cook; ho couldn’t stand her cooking
any longer (sob). And he knows wel
enough that she hasn’t done one bit or
cooking for a fortnight, and that I have
done it all myself 1 800-hoo 1 boo-hoo 1”
—Boston Transcript.
A RAINY DAY.
Mrs. Winks —“Did you notice in tho
Arctic reports that the exploring party,
after running out of food, kept them
selves alive on seal skin ?”
Mr. Winks—“ Yes. It is strange that
it should contain so much nutriment.
But speaking of starvation reminds me
that we have not saved a penny this
yea.-. It won’t do to go on that way,
you know.”
“Certainly not, and that is what I was
going to speak about. We must lay up
something for a rainy day. We don’t
know how soon we may meet with mis
fortune.”
“True, and ns Uncle Jake has prom
ised to send me a present of SSOO iu the
fall, I think it would boa good starter,
don’t you ?”
“Just the thing, dear. Buy me a SSOO
sealskin sacque for a Christmas present,
and if the worst comes to the worst—we
can cat it, you know.”— Dhtla. Call.
SUNDAY CLOSING.
New York Alderman—“No use letting
John go to the public library. All of
them are closed on Sundays.”
Mrs. Aiderman—“Oh 1 you must be
mistaken. I know one was open Sun
days this spring, because I was there
myself.”
“Yes, it was then, but wo have had
them closed up since.”
“Why, what for?”
“Well, the fact is they interfered with
the business of my saloon.”— The Call.
-
THE CATTLE PLAGUE.
Prof. Low of Cornell University OfTcro
Nome Nn«u<*NtioiiH.
Prof. James Law, tho celebrated Vet
erinary Professor of Cornell University,
being questioned concerning the pleuro
pneumonia now creating some excite
ment among Western cattle-breeders,
said that he had something to say on the
subject. His remarks summed up are
as follows:
Ist. The plagne having been allowed
to reach the West, it is no longer safe to
purchase stock cattle that have been
carried by rail or other public convey
ance; that have been in public sales, mar
kets, fairs or other assemblages of cattle,
or that have been in contact with cat
tle so exposed.
2d. Stock cattle should be taken only
from well-known herds that have had no
deaths nor sickness for six months, nor
any additions made to their numbers in
that length of time, nor any contact
with adjacent or passing herds.
3d. Stock cattle should not be carried
home by rail or other public conveyance,
unless these shall have been first thor
oughly cleansed and disinfected, and un
less the train has carried no other cattle
on that trip. ,
4th. Any stock cattle carried home by
rail, etc , as above, even when this is
’ done under disinfectant precautions,
1 should be carefully secluded in quar
antine, under separate attendance, for
three mouths, until they are found non
infecting.
sth. Butchers and dealers handling
fat stock destined for slaughter, should
on no account allow them or their prod
ucts to come in contact with stock cat
tle.
Gtb. All public carrying companies
should cleanse all cattle-carrying cars
and boats, and disinfect them with a
lime whitewash containing four ounces
of chloride of lime to each gallon of
water.
7tb. These precautions should be kept
up until by Federal and State action the
plague shall have been stamped out,
should this still be possible.
nk John is becoming a
( . : :. ;he city ?” said a fanner,
> iiug of his absent son to-a compan
ion of the youth. “Great man 1 I
should say so. Why there ain’t a bar
keeper in the city hardly, that he don't
call by bis first name.”