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J’AS No e(J UA»-
NEW HOmk
’ 30 UNION SQUARE NEWYORK
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lit. MAS S. GA.
FOR SAI. £ BY
-*•
I’M \ I?!? & CAIN",
SUMMERVILLE, GA. i
' new
Davis
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For particulars as to prices, Arc., and
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158 Tremor t St., Boston, Mass.
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113 Public Square, Cleveland, Ohio.
46, 48 & 50 Jackson St., Cl>ica<: ■ 111.
For sale in Summerville by
J. S. CLEGHORN * CO.
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“What do you think,” said Clara;
“that horrid Tom Brown proposed tome
last evening. He hummed and hawed
a long time, but finally spunked up
courage to ask for my hand. ’ “And
what did you say, dear ?" asked Ddia.
“Say ? Why, I told him I couldn’t be
so cruel as to burden him with a third
hand when he didn’t know what to do
with the two he already had—the awk
ward booby!”
—
rather destroys a farmer's faith in
-b.pp'-d putting
~ . *‘ e J ‘ to find
fli? ; k:iig around the
tritit 1
y ti IL- c.
(tljc ilk
VOL XI. SUMMERVILLE, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY EVENING, OCTOBER 29, 1884. NO. 41.
t — SANDS’
PATENT TRIPLE
AIOTIONfgM
fi asl Tw *«
s JK r A ■l"’’’*
nW
FREEZERX
' The only Freezer ever made having three distinct
motions inside the can. thereby, of course, produc
ing tiner and smoother Cream than any other
Freezer on the market.
300,000 in use. Catalogue and Price List
bailed upon application.
WHITE MOUNTAIN FREEZER CO.,
NASHUA, N, H.
A COWARDLY ASKA (LT.
(Inc nt the Hnlvntlou Army Member®
luitnlly Inlured by n Ilion’ on the llend nt
Albnny—A Pnlliellc Herne nt the I.ylne
Girl’. Bedside,
A dispatch from Albany, N. Y,,
dated Friday, says: Miss Lucy John
ston, of South Brooklyn, well-known as
I “Singing Lucy,’’of the Salvation Army,
is in probably a dying condition here,
having been struck senseless by an un-
I known person while the army were
| parading last night. It is regarded as
I one of the greatest outrages ever perpe-
I trated in this city and there is great in
dignation among the residents over the
affair. Numerous threats have been
made by roughs that if the Salvation
Army paraded, “they would suffer for
it." *
But notwithstanding this a parade was
made last evening, starting at 7.30
o’clock. They proceeded from Hudson
avenue np Pearl street and back, fol
owed by a crowd of children and hood
lums. No one ventured to molest them
until they had turned down Steuben
street on their way to Hidley Hull to
hold their meeting. Turning into James
street the Salvationists discovered a
large gang of young men gathered about
the entrance to the ball. Several of the
army had already entered and were at
the top of the stairway which leads to
the meeting room, when Miss Johnston
was heard calling from the door: “Cap
tain, some one has struck me.” Im
mediately there was a general confusion
and a scattering of the roughs congre
gated about The army gathered about
the stricken soldier, who lay stunned
upon the floor. It was soon discovered
that she had been struck violently on
the back of the head while entering the
door. The unconscious girl was carried
upstairs amid great excitement and cries
of fright
After reaching home the suffering girl
became again unconscious. Spasm suc
ceeded spasm and delirium set in. At
10.30 o’clock Dr. Fisk, of Hudson av
enue, was called in and pronounced it
a severe case of concussion of the brain.
All night long the young woman re
mained in a delirious state. Only for a
few seconds, at about 1 o’clock, did she
la-come conscious. Turning to Captain
Maggie Renick, she rolled her eyes un
easily and exclaimed, “You haven’t told
mother, have you?" On being in
formed in the negative, she seemed con
tented and again lost consciousness.
Once or twice she cried out, "Nellie,
don t tell poor mother. It would kill
her.” Nellie is the name of a sister
whom she dearly loves and imagined
was near her. Friends with tearful eyes
surrounded the stricken girl all night.
At 1.30 in the afternoon she was uncon
scious and her condition was still re
garded as very critical. In the evening
she became conscious, and her physi
cian hopes for her ultimate recovery.
Singing Lucy is twenty-one years old
and joined the Salvation Army about
four months ago. Her parents occupy
a good social position in Brooklyn and
strongly opposed her entering upon this
work. She is tall and well formed, has
I a remarkably sweet voice and has made
herself a great favorite among the friends
oi the Salvationists. She has had a
presentment for a week past that some
thing was going to happen to her. The
I ruffianly coward who struck the blow
has not yet been discovered. It is
thought that she was struck with a club
or leaded “billy.”
THE CHINESE PCZZLE.
' Ob. bring me a map of the seat of war !
I I ear the van® on the river Min !
: I want to see where the missiles tire
Through far Foochow with a devil's din.
Jljst show m ■ Ke-lcng and B:nen-clioo;
Add where. Oh. where is Kin-tei-hing,
I Choo-Choo. Chang-cliow ami where Cha-oo?
Is Hirig-wba far from Yen-ping ?
I ream t> know of H.e-cliie-cbiug;
I long to see- the brill Nan-ling;
However will l he French get in
To Klang-si or view Toong-ting?
; So, bring me a map of the peat of war 1
I want to learn while the light is young;
And while I am lo- king for one name more,
Hl pray for the ladies of great Q-iang-tnng.
LrniifciVr t’o'uiir- /'i‘i>ual.
—■—
?J.-. Morostsi has not yet remarked
■ tfiir he v.oul'l cut his erring daughter
f! with aFc ioHing It would to
i b - .-uperttuom. Graptiic.
FARMER NICK'S SCARECROW.
Out in the cornfield, grouped together,
A flock of <. rows discussed the weather.
Observing them, thrifty Farmer Nick
Declared that the crows were “gettin’ too
thick.”
“ I must have a se» recrow—that is true;
Now, would not that old umbrella do?”
So into the house the farmer went,
Ami away to the field the umbrella sent.
One rainy day the fanner went out
To view the corn fields lying about;
He neared the umbrella: looked inside;
And what he saw made him laugh till he
cried !
Tor in there, out of the rainy weather
A dozen crows were huddled together !
So the farmer, laughing as farmers should.
Said: ‘4 fear my scarecrow did little good.”
Noh a E. Crosby, in SI. Nicholas.
Uncle Cuthbert.
"Hush ! It is Clarence Hyde’s step!"
And Rose Eldon sprang to her feet, rosy
and smiling, with freshly-plucked helio
trope trembling among her glossy brown
braids, and her pretty blue dress float
ing around her like an azure cloud.
Only eighteen, and very fair and love
ly was our little Rosa— a trifle spoiled
and willful, perhaps, but what else could
one expect? Every one petted and
made much of her—every one smiled at
her pretty, kittenish way —and Clarence
Hyde thought her the fairest specimen
of feminine humanity that ever the sup
shone on.
L'zzy Eldon made room for her sister
—Lizzy, just one year younger and
scarcely less fair, yet very different in
character. Lizzy was quiet, and sago
and demure, while Rosa rattled away
like a merry mountain stream flowing
over its mossy stones. L'zzy thought
her sister perfection, while Rosa was lec
turing Lizzy in a capricious fashion, and
laying down the law to her after the
most approved manner of elder sisters.
"How nice it must be to be engaged I"
said Lizzy, with a half-encouraging
smile, as Rosa paused at the glass to ad
just her hair. "I wish I was engaged 1”
"Yon? Oh, yon are nothing but a
child,’’Rosa said, patronizingly. "There
—give me my pocket handkerchief.”
And away she went, light and lithe ns
a bine-winged butterfly.
Clarence Hyde was in the parlor anx
iously awaiting her coming, but Clar
ence had rather a disturbed face. He
was a well-made, handsome fellow, with
laughing, wine-brown eyes, straight fea
tures, and brown hair thrown back from
a broad, frank brow.
"Why, what makes yon look so so
ber?” was Rosa’s first question, when
the ceremonials of greeting were gone
through with and she had time to take
a good look into his face.
"Holier? Doi?”
He was playing rather restlessly
with the crimson cord that looped back
the white muslin draperies of the pretty
bay window that made Mrs. Eldon’s cot
tage look like one of the lovely rustic
habitations you see in old Engligh en
gravings.
"Exactly as if you had the toothache
or a bad conscience. ”
Clarence laughed in spite of himself.
"Yon are wrong, then my little riddle
guesser, I am afflicted with neither the
one nor the other.”
“Well, what is it, then?”
"Rosa, what would you say if it were
to become necessary to defer our mar
riage for some time ?”
A shadow came over the infantile
nloom and freshness of Rosa’s face.
“To defer our marriage, Clarence ? I
can’t imagine what you mean.”
"Listen, Rosa, and I will tell you.
My uncle has just come from California,
very poor and a confirmed invalid. I am
his only surviving relative, and to me he
naturally appealed for protection and
companionship. I must give him a
home, Rosa. You know I bad laid up
just enough to begin housekeeping in a
quiet, economical sort of way, but the
new plan will necessarily alter all of my
arrangements.”
"I never heard of any uncle before."
"No, dearest; I knew very little of
him—nothing personally, as he never
visited mv father’s during his life-time.”
Rosa’s face was turned away from
Clarence Hyde’s; she was silently twist
ing a piece of paper round and round
her slender forefinger.
"Rosa,” he said, after waiting a min
ute or two for her to make some
remark, “tell me honestly, dear one,
which you prefer—to begin housekeep
ing on this new scale—one more frugal
and humble than I bad originally hoped
and intended—or to defer our marriage
until I can earn enough to carry out
those original arrangements.”
She was silent for a moment, then
she answered in a voice which seemed
to chill Clarence’s buoyant young heart:
“Neither 1”
“Rosa 1” he exclaimed, “I do not un
derstand you.”
“I spoke plainly enough. Neither I” ■
•‘Do you mean that ”
“I mean that you must either give up
your uncle or me. After all that has
been said and known of our engagement,
after its publicity and length, I certainly
cannot consent to a further postpone
ment. And we shall lie poor enough if
we marry immediately, without filling
our house with needy relatives.”
Clarence Hyde looked at hie fair
in perfect amazement. Never
in the whole course of their acquaint-
ance had he seen this phase of charac
ter. He had fancied her all that was
sweet, pnre and womanly. Could it be i
possible that she was cold-hearted, sel
fish and dead to all the sweet ties of
nature ?
"Rosa,” he said, mournfully, “is this
to part us?”
“It is for you to say.”
"Do you wish me to give up my poor,
dependent uncle ?”
“Either him or me, ’ Rosa answered,
indiflerently.
"It will be hard—very hard, for me
to lay aside the brightest wishes of my
life,” he said earnestly, "but, Rosa,
duty is n y first object, I cannot leave
my uncle to wear out his few remaining
days in poverty and solitude.”
"Very well,” answered Rosa careless
ly, stooping to pick up the odorous pur
ple blossoms which had fallen from her
hair, “then we shall consider our en
gagement dissolved.”
“And can you give me np so readily,
Rosa?”
"Oh,” said Rosa, a little impatiently,
“where’s the use of being romantic
about it ? You have chosen your path.
I have chosen mine. So let it lie 1”
Clarence Hyde took his leave, de
jected enough. It is not pleasant to set
up a fair idol and worship it with all the
strength and tenderness of your nature,
only to find, after all, that it is dust and
ashes—hollow-hearted and false I
Cuthbert Hyde sat smoking his brier
wood meerschaum by the open window
as Clarence entered—a square, shrewd
looking old man, with deeply-seamed
wrinkles on his brow, and restless,
sparkling eyes, gleaming like live coals
beneath his shaggy brows.
“Clarence, my boy, something has
gone wrong," ho said, brusquely, after
he had regarded his nephew in silence
for awhile. "Tell the old uncle what
it is.”
"I have told you about Rosa Eldon,
sir ; well, she and I are—in fact, it is
all over between us.”
"Engagement broken, eh ? Fast the
power of patching np?”
"Yes, uncle.”
"And it was on my account? Nay,
boy; don’t turn away—l can read the
truth in your eyes. So she played you
false ?”
"Wo are parted, uncle—is not that
enough ?”
“Well, perhaps so—perhaps so. It
is well you found her out in time, Clar
ence. It’s for the best, my boy.”
Clarence Hyde was passing down the
village street a day or two subsequently
toward dusk on a mellow August even
ing when a slight form glided up to
him and a tremulous hand was laid
upon his own. He started at first, but
quickly recognized the face and figure.
"Lizzy Eldon I”
“Ob, Clarence, I could not rest with
out telling yon how very, very wrong I
thought Rosa, and how sorry I am for
you.”
"Thanks, Lizzy. I do not think she
has treated me exactly right.”
"How could she be so cruel, so un
womanly? You arc right., Clarence —
you acted nobly. I think Rosa will one
day live to repent it."
Ah Clarence stood there listening to
Lizzy Eldon’s impetuous words and
holding her soft little hand in his own,
he wondered that he had never before
noticed how very, very pretty she was—
a softer, more subdued style of beauty
than Rosa’s, yet not less bewitching in
its way.
They haunted him all night long,
that oval, earnest face, those swimming
blue eyes.
Day by day Rosa’s image waxed
fainter and more faint in his memory,
and Lizzy’s shy, gentle looks grew more
than ever present Jn his heart.
"I do believe I’ve fallen in love with
the girl,” he thought. "I wonder what
she would say if I was to propose to
her ?”
Next to the wonder came the realiza
tion. One fine October day, when they
had strayed a little way from the gay
nutting party, whose voices made the
old yellow-leaved woods musical, Mr.
Hyde asked Lizzy Eldon if she would
accept the love her sister had slighted,
and Lizzy, smiling and trembling, an
swered him, yes,
“You see, Uncle Cuthbert,” said
Clarence, eagerly, as he explained the
new position of affairs to his uncle that
evening, after he had safely escorted
Lizzy home, with her basket of nuts
only half filled (and no wonder, all
things considered), “it will lie so pleas
ant I We shall all live together, and
Lizzy says she will love you dearly.
Lizzy is such a famous little housekeep
er. She thinks it will be so pleasant to
have you sitting by our hearthstone J
And, uncle, you will go and see her to
morrow, won’t you ?”
"Yes,” said Uncle Cuthbert, briefly,
“I’ll go.”
And the next day Lizzy was surprised
at her sewing by a brown-faced, little,
■ old man, who abruptly took both her
hands in his and imprinted a kiss upon
her crimson forehead, just as if he was
the oldest acquaintance in the world !
‘ ‘So you’re going to marry my nephew,
Lizzy, are you ?” said Uncle Cuthbert.
“Yes, sir,” Lizzy made answer, tim
idly.
“And yon love him, Lizzy?”
"Oh, yes, sir.”
“And you won’t object to having the
old man lumbering ’round the house,
helpless and feeble though he be ?”
“I shall be so glad to have you live I
with us, sir, for I never remember my !
father—and —you will be like one to me,
I am sure.”
Uncle Cuthbert kissed her again, and
walked away as abruptly as he had
come.
“He’s a very funny old gentleman,”
thought Lizzy, “but I know I shall like
him.”
Rosa contemplated the present state
of affairs very coolly—a little contempt
uously, in fact.
“If you choose to adopt all Clarence
Hvde's poor relations, why, I can only
wonder at your taste,” she said, loftily.
But Lizzy only smiled, and doubted
to herself whether Rosa could really
ever have loved Clarence.
“No, no, no I” echoed her hear
The day of the wedding drew near.
Lizzy's white dress was nearly finished,
and modest little presents were begin
ning to be sent in from friends and
neighbors.
“Here’s my present,” said Uncle
Cuthbert, walking in one day, and toss
ing a little box of carved wood into
Lizzy’s lap. “I cut out those wooden
flowers myself, when I was in Cali
fornia.”
“Oh, Uncle, what a dear little box,”
said Lizzy, smiling her bright thanks,
while Rosa elevated her nose rather
scornfully.
"Well, open it; it’s lined beautifully,”
said the old man.
Lizzy obeyed.
“Why, there's a parchment chart in
it, Uncle,” cried the astonished Clarence,
who was leaning over Lizzy’s shoulder.
“And so there is—a deed making over
$50,000 to Lizzy Eldon the day of her
marriage,” answered Uncle Cuthbert,
dryly, "and I've just got another one for
you at home, Clarence, my boy ! Aha 1
the old uncle was not so very poverty
stricken after all. You musn’t think,
my young lady,” he added, turning
abruptly to Rosa, “that gold isn’t gold
because it is a trifle tarnished aud rusty.
Appearances aren’t anything in this
world I”
And so Clarence and Lizzy began the
world with the fairest of prospects, and
true love enough to float the bark of
life into the sweetest haven.
Rosa Eldon was somewhat chagrined
in her secret soul, but she wisely kept
her secret to herself, and old Unelo
Cuthbert was quite satisfied with the
choice his nephew had made.
“She’s worth twice a hundred thou
sand dollars in her own sweet self, Clar
ence,” he said, confidentially, to Mr,
Hyde, junior.
A String of Suckers.
A patent medicine man up in a Wis
consin town was selling something or
other from a carriage in which he had a
rather pretty young woman and a gaso
line lamp. The lady sang one or two
songs very sv c itly and then the man
talked and sold his nostrum at a dollar
a bottle.
When he had disposed of thirty or
forty bottles he said: “Now, gentlemen,
before bidding you good night I will
give you an exhibition of the wonderful
magnetic power of my wife, who sits
here by my side. I hold in my hand a
common piece of thread. Now one of
you take hold of the end of it and walk
off and then let all the others take hold
of it, and at the signal which I will
give she will take hold of the other end
and you will feel the shock instantly.”
"About 150 men and boys grasped the
thread and walked off about half a block
with it. ‘Now keep perfectly quiet,’said
the man, ‘and you will feel the shock
delicate at first, and then strong enough
to tingle at the ends of yonr fingers and
toes. Are you all ready ?”
“They all said ‘Yes.’
“ ‘Well, then, I will put out the light,’
said he, ‘and my wife will take the
thread in her hand at that instant.’
“The light went out and the man’s
voice was heard: ‘What have you in
your hand, my dear ?’
“ ‘The longest string of suckers I ever
saw in all my life,’ came in a sweet,
musical voice, and at the same moment
the horses and carriage were driven off
at great speed, leaving the crowd hold
ing on to the string dumfonnded.
“It was the worst shock a good many
of those fellows ever got.”
—
The Game of Base-Ball.
Base-ball really originated in New
York city in 1845, when a party of gen
tlemen so mollified the old game of
town ball as to create a new game, to
which they gave the name of base-ball.
On the 2.3 dof September of that year
these gentlemen formally organized the
Knickerbocker Base-Ball club and
adopted a series of playing rules. Prior
to 1845 a sort of crude base-ball had
been played under various rules, but it
was little more than a schoolboy’s di
version. The Olympic club, of Phila
delphia, had been organized in 1853,
but it played nothing but town ball un
til 1860, when base-ball was adopted in
its stead.
In New England, about thirty years
ago. there was a game called the “New
England Game,” which was played with
a small, light ball, which was thrown
overhand to the bat. while in the New
York game of base-ball as then played
by the Knickerbocker, Eagle, Gotham
and Umpire clubs, a large elastic ball
was pitched to the bat.
| TWO GOOD ONES TOGETHER.
I
| HOT WEATHEIt AH THEY SOMETIMES
HAVE IT IN PIKE COUNTY.
A Topic About Which the Ohl Settler nut!
the ’Squire Annie, DIIIerln« Widely.
It was evening, on the back stoop of
the tavern, in the present hot spell.
The thermometer stood at 95 degrees.
Somebody came along and remarked
that it was hot. The County Clerk
opened his eyes and looked wearily at
the speaker. The sheriff glanced wist
fully at a club Unit lay near him, but he
made no effort to reach out and use it.
The big dog on the stoop turned up one
eye ami growled. The ex-Poundmaster
relaxed slightly hie semi somnolescent
attitude, and said, with no trace of anger
or malice, but much of languor, in his
voice:
“ W-h-a-a-t—d-i-d —y -o-u—s-a- a-y,
s-t-r-a-n-g-e-r?”
“I said it was hot 1” replied the stran
ger, and there was so much caloric in his
tone that the thermometer jumped a
degree higher.
“O-h-h-h !” said the ex-Poundmaster,
and he settled back into somnolence.
The stranger moved off in disgust, and
who should step briskly up, with a
pleased look and his coat on, but the
Oid Settler.
“Aha, boys I” said he rubbing his
hands. “It’s like a regeneratin’ sperrit,
b’gosh, to feel some giniwine ole ortumn
weather peelin’ of itself fur business
wnnst more, haiu’t it ?”
The boys knew the Old Settler. No
one spoke a word. No one seemed to
hear him. He looked around. Evidently
no one intended to dissent from his esti
mate of the weather. The pleased
expression left his face. He looked
thoughtful. Suddenly his face bright
ened again. Ho seemed to catch a ray
of hope.
"The ’Squire hain’t ben an’ gone
a’ready, has he, boys?” said he; “ ’cause
if ho has —no, ho hain’t, b’gosh ! Here
he comes now, loppin' along, praying to
hisself, I'll bate, ’cause the ’tarnal hot
summer ez we’ve had has got up an’
scooted.”
Sure enough, there the ’Squire came;
his coat off, his shirt sleeves rolled up,
his hat in one hand, while he moppod
his face with his bandanna. The Old
Settler looked more thau pleased. The
’Squire wilted down in a chair like a let
tuce leaf under hot vinegar.
“W-h-e-w!” said he. “Wall, Major,
I’ve see some tol’able weather in my
time. I think, fakin' it hot an’ cold ez it
runs, from Janiwary to July, an’ from
July to Janiwary, but if this don’t
plump the bull’s-eye a leotle slicker
than any hot weather that ever tackled
me afore, then I’m diddly dod-durned
from way back 1”
“Hot 1” exclaimed the Old Settler,
and you’d have sworn he was really
astonished. “Hot 1 I hope ye don’t call
this hot weather, ’Squire ! Here’s me ,
an’ M’riar Kiverin’ up our flower beds
ev’ry night to keep ’em from bein’
fetched with frost, an’ here's you a hol
lerin’ ’bout it's bein’ hot I ’Squire,
durned if I don’t think you’m gettin’ a
let tie cracked. I do, b’gosh I”
“I may be gettin’ a leetle cracked,
Major,” replied the ’Squire, “an’ you
may be kiverin’ up yer flower beds fur
fear o’ frost, or ye may be lyin’, jist
which ye please, with bets in favor o'
the lyin’, but this is the fust hot
weather I ever see. If sumpin’ hain’t
twisted the equator ’way from Cuby an'
dropped it down outer Pike county,
then ye kin bile me 1”
“’Squire,” said the Old Settler, re
monstratively, “what’s the use o’ your
bein’ so consarned contrairy ? I don’t
mean no ’fence, but, b’gosh, ye make
yerself pooty cl us onter disagree’ble,
sometimes. Now, if I’d a come an’ sot
down here an’ said it was hot, you'd a
right up an’ pooh-poohed, and said
Bumpin’ ’bout yer havin’ had a durn no
tion o’ puttin’ on yer overcoat ’fore ye
left hum, an’ was sorry ye hadn’t, or
some piece o’ contrairiuess. Then ye
alius seem to wanter pick a quar’l.
Here I sot, an’ wa’n’t sayin’ a consarned
word ’bout the weather, an' up you
Bounces and begins at mo ’bout it’s
bein’ hot ! Then, ’cause I don't fall in
with yer contrairiness, but sticks up for
it’s bein’ bracin’ an’ insiniwatin’ ortumn
weather, which it is, then ye git mad an'
say I’m a lyin’. Wall, I kin jist tell ye,
b’gosh, ’Squire, that I hain’t agoiutel
resk my flower beds jist ’cause you say
it’s hot, not by a long shot, I hain’t, an’
ye kin like it or lump it, b’gosht’l
mighty, whichever ye dnrn please !”
“Flower beds 1” exclaimed the 'Squire.
“Who cares far yer flower beds? I
don’t care a hair out’n a mule’s tail for
’em 1 Ye kin kiver ’em an’ onkiver ’em
agin ! An’ ye kin go right hum an’ kiver
’em if ye want to. Nobody’s holdin’ of
ye! But ye can’t set thar an’ face me
down that it hain’t hot 1 Ye never see
it so hot, and you know it ! Look at the
th’mom’ter I Look at the th’mom’ter,
with the ball on it heated so ye can’t
; bear your finger on it, an’ then say it
ain’t hot! You make me sick, Major 1”
“I don’t care fur no th’mom’ter!” ex
claimed the Old Settler. “D'ye s’pose
I’me gointer let a thing like that ez
can’t do nothin’ but hang onter a post,
pick out weather fur me? Wall, b’gosh,
no ! We had a little weather, I guess,
’fore th’mom’ters come out, an’ we’d
' hev some more weather if ev’ry one on
1 'em in creation should bust an’ th’
couldn't no more git made. The idee,
anyhow, o’ folks b’lievin’ that all the
weather ez comes along has to pass
through them durn things ’fore we kin
know how hot it is or how cold it is ! I
know when weather’s hot, I think. I
kin ’member one summer, when I was a
boy, when it was so hot that we had to
keep the rippinest kind o’ big fires agoin
in the house, all the time, to cool ofl the
air, it bein’ so durn much hotter’n the
fires was 1 Why, ’twas a common thing,
that summer, fur folks ez was travellin’,
to stop at housen ’long the roads an’ ast
if they could please come in an’ set by
the fire an’ get cool. It makes me
eoldor'n I act’lly feel, to-night to think o’
some o’ the hot weather I kin ’member.
B-r-r-r-r ! Th’ll bo frost to-night, sar
tin, au ”
The county clerk got up and walked
inside. The boys and the ’Squire
trailed after him. The Old Settier
edged in, rubbing his hands. Every
body but the Old Settler ordered it with
ice. He was game to the last.
“Bartender,” said he, “make me a hot
Scotch. ” —Ed. Mott.
The Cleveland Crank.
“Call the ‘Crank,’ ” was the order up
on which “John Doe,” the eccentric
visitant of the Garfield residence, was
ushered to a place in the prisoner's row
in the Police Court, Cleveland, Ohio.
Assistant-Prosecutor McNamee, with
several postal cards in his hand bearing
the address of “Mrs. James A. Gar
field,” called the name “T. M. Alex
ander,” by which they were signed. The
prisoner was silent. “Is that yonr
name?” “No, sir.” Then one of the
postals was submitted and the query was
put: “Is that your handwriting?” The
prisoner carefully adjusted his glasses
and examined the card and answered:
“No, sir.” “You were in Richmond in
March, 1883?” “That’s my business.”
Other questions as to the prisoner’s
antecedents received negative answers,
no answer at all, or a scornful wave of
his hand. The court inquired: “Do
you want to make any statement ?” to
which was replied: “I don’t know that
I have any statement to make. I want
something to eat, I have been without
food for three days.” This referred to
the fact that the prisoner during his in
carceration has absolutely refused to
touch bread and water, the only food
allowed him. The subsequent questions
propounded by the court were no more
successful than those recited. A sen
tence of S2OO and costs and twenty-eight
days in the workhouse for carrying con
cealed weapons was imposed, and the
court explained the two day’s abatement
from the usual number, by con leasing
that he had made a mistake in commit
ting the man for contempt in refusing to
criminate himself. After leaving the
court-room the mysterious prisonersaid:
“They can send me to the workhouse,
but I’ll be hanged if they can make me
work.” Young James Garfield was an
observer of the Police Court hearing.
Domestic Recipes
A delicate dish for dessert is made by
paring six ripe, tart apples; cut them
in halves, put half a pound of sugar into
a saucepan, with half a pint of water,
add the juice of one lemon and let this
boil until it is thick, then lay in the
apples. When they have simmered
until they are tender, take them out,
drain them onji sieve and let the syrup
boil a few minutes Wugcr. When the
apples and syrup are both cool, put the
apples carefully into a glass dish and
pour the syrup over them.
A very appetizing way to cook onions
is to boil them in salt and water until
they begin to be tender; drain the
water from them, and wrap each onion
in soft paper, set them side by side into
a dripping pan, let them bake until
done, then put them into a vegetable
dish and pour rich brown gravy over
them ; Spanish onions are especially
nice cooked in this way, as they have so
delicate a flavor.
Tomatoes cut into thick slices and
jaked in a dripping pan make a most
agreeable garnish. Sprinkle pepper and
salt and fine bread crumbs over each
slice, and in, the spaces between the
slices put little lumps of butter. Bake
till tender, and serve hot on the platter
with meat.
To make red-cabbage salad choose a
small firm head; take off the outer
leaves and cut the rest into very thin
slices; if you can shave it fine it will be
all the nicer ; mix with it two teaspoon
fnls of salad oil, or of clarified butter, a
little cayenne pepper, a little curry
powder, if you please. This salad is
nice for two or three days after it is
prepared if it is kept where it is cool; if
you prefer a sweet salad add sugar
The Generous-Hearteil Wife.
He had failed for $500,000, and his as
sets would not pay two cents on the dol
lar. He gave np everything he had to
satisfy his creditors, not even reserving
the watch in his pocket. And yet they
growled. An old friend called to see
him. He met him at the depot with a
$5,000 span of horses, and conveyed
him to a $200,000 residence, where he
dined and wined him like a prince, on
the finest of china and the costliest of
plate.
“Why, Jones,” said his old friend,
“I thought you had failed ?”
“So I have—given up everything, ab
solutely everything to my creditors, as
an honest man should,” replied the
bankrupt, in a tone of self-abnegation.
“Why, you appear to be living pretty
well,” remarked the old friend.
“Ah, my dear sir, how mistaken you
are,” returned the two-cents-on-the-dol
lar failure. “Everything that yon see
is my wife’s, absolutely everything.
But she is too tender-hearted to deprive
me of their use on account of my mis
fortunes.”
A Pakistan doctor prescibed for a
young lady who had objections against
giowing stout: “Take exercise, flky
girl. Consider the trees of
th, yI .. r take exercise. ■_ J
' T! -.-0