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BIRDS THAT GO OX HATS.
Ah Expin Hat if* u of Some of the Mysterious
Creations that are Seen
A great heap of wide-spread antlers in
A window, with a simple black-and-white
sign above them which reads, “Taxider
mist,” is the only street display of a
New York place of business where hun
dreds of thousands of birds have bean
flayed and their skins dressed for the
ornamenting of hats and bonnets, and
hundreds of hides of all sorts of animals,
from a mouse to a cinnamon bear or an
African tiger, have been mounted for
the use of dealers in furs and the decor
ation of parlors and studies. The chief
part of the business is the preparation of
birds for milliners. A pretty black-eyed
girl behind the counter in the front
room said that the business was not very
brisk in winter, but with the coming of
the birds in spring it would become very
lively.
“What kind of birds do yon use
most ?”
“The common sorts red-winged
blackbirds, reed birds, snipes, turtle
doves, orioles, yellow birds, thrushes.
Any small bird can be used.”
“How do you get them ?”
“We buy them of men who make a
business of supplying us. Most of the
birds we handle come from New Jersey,
but a good many come from Long
Island, and we receive some from th»
West and South. A few are imported.”
“What do you pay for them ?”
“That depends on the fashions en
tirely. Two years ago the demand of
the milliners was for red wings and yel
low birds. We paid from twenty-five to
thirty-five cents apiece, and at one time
we had to pay as high as forty-seven
cents apiece for a lot. Last year we got
all we wanted at from seven to eight
cents each. When the hunter'! have to
supply a brisk demand, they cm get
more, of course, because the supply’ of
"bints of each variety does not vary from
year to year.”
“Do the hunters shoot the birds ?”
“I guess not. Ido not find any shot
in flaying those bought from regular
customers.”
“How do they catch them then ?”
“I guess you could not get them to
tell you. There is one man who brings
us from 1.500 to 2,000 a week during the
warm mouths. He says he has a part
ner and no other help. He lives in Red
Bank. One would think the woods
would bo depopulated, or else that he
would get rich enough and retire, but
he has been working away for years
now.”
“Where do all these fancy birds that
look like pictures of tropical rarities
come from?”
“All from Jersey. By inserting a
snipe’s bill in the place of the bill of a
crow blackbird, and then combining
{’arts of the skin of other common birds,
we produce a monstrosity: but if the
colors are well u. itched the result is
attractive to the common eye, howeve:
grotesque it may appear to one who
knows all about the appearance of birds.
It is not uncommon to see in the Grand
street windows hats that have half a
dozen bird heads projecting from one
mass of feathers that might be Iho
breast of a swan or the pickings from a
second-hand pillow. The wings that
adorn some hate are about as much like
wings as a stovepipe is like a lead pen
cil. But those queer tastes are the mak
ing of our business. The portions of
the bird’s skin which are cut away when
mounting a bird naturally for a hat can
all be used up for wings by gluing then
on a model. I read the other day about
an Ohio young woman whose nerves
were wholly shattered in a millinery
store because, as the paper said, of her
sympathy for the poor little birds she
had to handle. I guess there was some
error about that. I think the shock
must have come from a contemplation
• some of our combination birds. She
as mv svmpathv.”
Andrew Jackson’s Wife.
When Andrew Jackson camo to Wash
ington as United States Senator from
Tennessee he brought his wife with him
■id she was received in society although
■ mdalons reports concerning her were
in circulation. The story of her life, as
told by the General’s friends, was that
he first knew her when she was the wife
of Lewis Robards, and he boarded with
h.r mother, the widow Dinelson, at
Nashville. Robards bad lieen separate 1
>o m his wife before, but the pair had
i een reconciled to some degree and were
now living together at the mother’s when
Andrew Jackson came there to reside
vitli Mr- Donelson. The attentions of
veiling Jackson to Mrs. Robards excited
th- jealousy of the husband to a violent
,-gree. Terrible scenes ensued between
tlie unfortunately mated pair and be
tween Robards and Jackson. At length
Robards abandoned her and returned to
hte former home in Kentucky. Hearing,
however, that her husband was about to
te'urn and take her she marie her es
cape to Natchez, accompanied, among
others, by Jackson. This, together
with other alleged causes, gave rise to
proceedings for a divorce on the part of
Robards, who accused his wife of gross
infidelity, and implicated Jackson in th4
crime. News was brought to Nashville
that the divorce had been obtained, and
Jackson hastened to Natchez, declared
himself to Mrs. R ibards as a lover, was
accepted, and the two were married at
Natchez by a Catholic priest. But, in
fact, the divorce had not been obtained,
nor was it completed until two years after
this marriage. Upon ascertaining this
the determined couple were married
again by a Protestant clergyman at
Nashville. A long and happy wedded
life followed. Jackson’s worst quarrels
-rose from this cause, and to defend her
reputation “he kept pistols in perfect
c edition for thirty-seven years.”
Bex PeihiKT Poore.
——
A Training School —Mr. Moody is
planning the establishment of a great
training school for c ty lay miFsionaries
in Chicago. The sum of is to
1. for laud LniL ■» and wen-
Ctjc
VOL. XII. SUMMERVILLE GEORGIA. WEDNESDAY EVENING. FEBRUARY 11. 1885. NO. 4.
GI^EN’AND TA KEV.
BI JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.
Smoothing soft the nestling head
Os a maiden fancy-led,
Thus the grave-eyed woman said :
“Richest gifts are those we make,
Dearer than the love we take
That we give for love’s own sake.
“Weil I know the heart’s unrest;
Mme has been the common quest
To be loved and therefore blest.
“Favors undeserved were mine;
At my feet as on a shrine
Love has lai 1 its gifts divine.
“Sweet the offerings seemed, and yet
With their sweetness came regret,
And a sense of unpaid debt
“Heart of mine unsatisfied
Was it vanity or pride
That a deeper joy denied?
“Hands that ope but to receive
Empty close, they only live
Richly who can richly giv?.
“Still,” she sighed, with moistening eyes,
• Love is sw.-et in any guise;
But its best is sacrifice ’
“He who. giving, does not crave
Lik» st is to Him who gave
Life its df the loved to save.
“Love that self-forgetful gives
bows snrpiise of ripened sheaves,
L’.te or soon its own leccives.”
—lndependent,
LIFE OF A COUNTRY PARSON
THE KEV. MIL UR UVFORI>’S DONA
'i IOV PARTY.
The Mom Knrrrnsfiil Held !n Yearn, hut It
Ended Him nnd hit* Wile—Nome Very
t urtouM Presents.
Peppertown, Dec. 20.—The near ap
proach of Christmas calls to mind the
curious experience in this village on
Christmas Eve one year ago of the late
Rev. Eleazer Crawford. Many of the
tacts concerning this experience are pub
lic property, while others, which were
told to the writer by the Rev. Mr. Craw
ford’s widow, just previous to her death,
Oct. 25 last, are now made known for
the flint time. The single church in
this village was the first and only charge
Mr. Crawford ever had. He entered
the ministry when nearly 40 years old,
after au unsuccessful business career.
His inexperience was impressed upon
him when Trustees Lemuel Carter.
Johnson Higbee and Amos Jackson
called upon him in his dingy home in
West Twentieth street, New York, and
engaged him. “We will give you $550
a year and a donation,” said Trustee
Higbee, “and if you make a go of
preaching and we like you, why maybe
we wij! give you more next year.”
The Rev. Mr. Crawford was anxious
to enter upon the work he hail chosen
and accepted the offer. He was kindly
and good, and thought that he and his
cheery English wife could live with their
three children on that salary. They
knew nothing of country life, and Mr.
Crawford’s idea of a donation extended
so far only that he knew what the wore’
meant in the abstract
They came here in June, 1883, and
gradually grew into the favor and good
will of the 1,200 people who make the
village their home. They lived, of
course, in the parsonage, which is con
sidered a very comfortable house.
There is no well and no cistern. Drink
ing water has to be carried from a well
in the raid of Joe Long, the saloon
keeper, who Jives next door, and rain
rater is caught in tubs and barrels set
iniler the ends of the wooden eaves
(roughs. The woodshed is in the rear
of the parsonage some ten feet, and
there is no barn. Mr. Crawford kept
■ft is her a horse nor cow and needed no
barn. Accustomed as they had been to
city conveniences, they found the work
inseparable from housekeeping very
bard, but they bore that, as they did
most troubles, patiently and without
murmuring.
11 w s at the November meeting of the
Trustee.: that the question of the dona
tion came up, and Christmas Eve was se
lected as the time. After the evening
s -rvic- the next Bunday, Trustee Carter
took the Pastor one side and told him
about the donation.
“You've done pretty well, consider
ing,” said Trustee Carter, as he worked
his arms into his heavy overcoat and
drew it up over his shoulders, “and we
are going to give you a first-class dona
tion party.”
“Yes,” said the Pastor, tentatively.
Mr. Crawford liked his Trustees, but
,hey were different from the men he had
been accustomed to, and there was
never the good-fellowship between them
and the minister that existed between
the Trustees themselves and their fellow
members in the church.
“I don’t suppose,” continued Trustee
Carter, “that you ever saw a donation ?”
“I never did,” said Mr. Crawford, with
a little laugh.
“And don’t know anything about how
they’re run ?”
“No, not much,” answered the minis
ter, flushing a little and looking as if he
thought he ought to know just what a
donation party was.
“Oh, well, you’ll know all about
those things when you've been longer in
toe business,” said Trustee Carter, good
r.i’-ircdly. “Yon see, ministers have to
: v_- like everybody else, though the
Bible does say ‘Take no thought for
t our meat. ’ If a minister doesn’t nave
. biiigs he has got to buy them like other
folks. Now, we mosily raise ail sorts of
stuff, you know, and onoa a year we give
to our minister a lot of vegetables and
things of that sort that he’d have to buy
otherwise. It’s just the same as so
much more salary, only it’s easier for us
and just as good for him.”
“Why, I should think that was an ex
cellent plan,” said Mr. Crawford, with a
good deal of interest. “It must —”
“Yes, it’s a tip-top plan,” said the
Trustee. “You see, we’ll all come to
your house iu the evening—it will be
Christinas Eve this year—and we’ll
bring this stuff and leave it and also
some cooked victuals, and have a supper
and a first-rate time. The woman folks
will drop in in the afternoon and bring
things that they make themselves, and
we men folks will drop around to sup
per.”
“Eleazer told me about the donation
when ho came home,” said Mrs. Craw
ford, one day not long before she died,
“and I said it was just as they did in
Bible times, when they set apart a por
tion of the fruit of their toil as a thank
offering, only I couldn’t see how so
many people were going to get into our
little bouse.”
There was capita 1 sleighing the wee)
before Christmas, bnt the minister am*
his wife staid indoors setting their house
in order for the donation. They were a
little nervous when the day came and
wished it was over. It was nearly 3
o’clock when a big sleigh drew up in
front of the parsonage and Widow
Selina Archibald climbed out. Her
hired man dropped the reins and fol
lowed her up to the door, staggering un
der the weight of a great jar.
The minister opened the door and
welcomed Mrs. Archibald, while the
hired man stepped inside nnd put the
big jar on the floor.
“I’ve brought you some quince pre
serves,” said Mrs. Archibald to Mrs.
Crawford. “They’ve just begun to
turn, but if yon heat them over they’ll
be all right again.”
“Thank you,” said the minister’s wife
with as much warmth as she could mus
ter under the reflection that neither she
nor any member of her family could
tolerate quinces.
The two ladies went through into the
parlor and the minister tugged and
pulled the great jar through into the
pantry and down the cellar stairs. Just
then Trustee Jackson drove up with his
wife and six great pumpkins. “Them’s
awful good pumpkins,” said the Trus
tee, as he set the golden globes on the
steps and drove away, saying he had got
to go down to the mill and would be
back by and by. The minister carried
the pumpkins down into the cellar and
got back in time to meet Mr. Higgins,
the blacksmith, who brought his wife
and a set of very heavy tongs, shovel and
poker, which he assured the minister he
had hammered out himself. Mrs. Hig
gins had a tin pan full of caraway-seed
cookies, a paper bag full of pickles and
a frosted cake. She also had her two
children, one of whom she told Mrs.
Crawford was probably coming down
with the measles. The other child nar
rowly escaped falling down the cellar
steps, a disaster which Mrs. Crawford
judged from Mrs. Higgins’s manner she
would have been held responsible for.
Mrs. Simmon’s, the grocer’s wife, ar
rived next, carrying a 10-ponnd package
of brown sugar, the sweetening power of
which her husband had said was unusu
ally great. She had also worked a tidy
for Mrs. Crawford’s rocking chair and
was quite surprised to find out that Mrs.
Crawford had some tidies already. Mr.
Winter, the hardware merchant, walked
over with his wife who had brought
some loaves of fresh bread and another
frosted cake. Mr. Winter himself had a
large package of tenpenny nails and a
jackknife with a gimlet and button hook
attached. Trustee Higbee unloaded five
more pumpkins which the minister car
ried down to the cellar. One of them
rolled against a dry goods box upon
which the jar of qnince preserves were
standing. The jar slid off and roiled
over the stones, and most of the pre
serves ran out on the ground. Deacon
Wiley came in next with some celery,
which he told the minister he had un
derstood was excellent for building up
the nervous system. Mrs. Wiley had a
brace of chickens already cooked, which
she said would do for the supper. Dea
con Hiram Blodgett brought a bushel of
Spitzenberg apples, and his eldest son,
a lad of 18, had a bushel of black wal
nuts. Mrs. Blodgett had some raised
biscuits and a pan of seed cakes. Mrs.
Martha Richards brought a couple of flat
irons which were too heavy, she said, for
' er use, and her daughter had made a
handsome holder for taking the irons off
the stove when they were hot. Mrs'
Richards said her brother-in-law Michael
would bring some pumpkins and another
squash or two, and jnst then Mr. Rich
ards arrived. When Mr. Crawford car
ried the squash down to the cellar he
slipped upon the spilled preserves, and
in falling slightly sprained his wrist.
Mr. Richards’s wife had embroidered a
pair of slippers for the minister, which
were four'll to be too small. Her daugh
ter hail made a chintz-covered chair
cushion, stuffed with corn husks, and
this was too large for any chair in the
house.
The druggist's wife had au electric
elt for the minister, which her hus
>and warranted to cure any liver trou-
ble known. Other ladles Drought va
rious good things for the supper, and
(be gentlemen, when they arrived, had
also a great variety of gifts. Among
tin m was a horsewhip, a sawbuck, a
cord ot wood, which was dumped out in
the street for the minister to carry to the
woodshed; a lot of seed corn tied to
gether by the husks, a peck of dried ap
ples, a flail which was recommended as
being uuequaled for thrashing out beans,
two home-made Bootjacks, a curry comb
and brush, a “pounding barrel” for
washing clothes and a pounder, a gallon
of soft soap, and some more pumpkins.
Some of the ladies brought strips of rag
carpet, some of which were more or less
worn, and one of them had a dozen balls
of carpet rags and some five pounds of
warp. There were also some newspa
pers with scolloped edges, which were
suit ble for pan try shelves.
But the most striking gift of all was
that of Deacon Thomas Jeffers. It was
after dark when the Deacon arrived and
the house was crowded. Mr. Crawford
heard him shouting out in the street
and went out bareheaded. The Deacon
was holding the reins to his team with
one hand and a rope attached to a cow
with the other.
“There, Elder,” said the Deacon,
“there’s a cow I brought yon. She’s
an awful good cow; been in our family
more than 20 years. My father gave
her to me when I was married. She’s
farrow and don’t give any milk, but
she’s au awful good cow.”
“I’m very much obliged, I’m sure,
Deacon,” said Mr. Crawford. Then he
took the rope and, wading through the
snow, led the cow around to the wood
shed and tied her up there. The Pastor
hardly knew what to do with the cow,
which had bnt one horn and seemed un
commonly vicious for one of her age and
good bringing up. The supper was a
great success. There were several little
articles such as eggs and spices wanting
among the gifts, but these Mrs. Craw
ford supplied from her own store. After
supper the Spitzenberg apples were
eaten and so were the black walnuts.
The Pastor and his wife were very tired
when their party was over, and went
directly to bed. When they arose in
the morning, they found their dry wood
had all been burned up the night before
in an effort to ker-p the house warm.
now had fallen and after the wood
which lay in the street had been cut up
by the minister, it was found difficult to
make it burn. The cow manifested a
desire for something to eat by frequent
appalling sounds, and the minister, after
trying her with the dried apples which
she rejected, meanwhile endeavoring to
hook him with her one horn, gave her a
couple of the twenty-odd pumpkins in the
cellar. Every article of cooked food in
the house was gone, and the stores were
closed. The brown sugar still remained,
and there were the winter squashes and
all the articles which could not be eaten.
Mrs. Crawford cooked some of the
squash, and with a few of the raised
biscuits which had been overcooked,
they made a breakfast. The Pastor
pr< ached a very good Christmas sermon,
although somewhat hoarse. After the
sermon he was told by a number of per
t ons that the donation was considered
the most successful held in years.
Three months later there was another
gathering at the parsonage. The Rev.
E'enzer Crawford was dead.
“Caught cold some time during the
•inter and never got over it,” said
fin.-tee Higbee. “Consumption, I
■uess.”
“I don’t think I was ever strong
enough for a country minister’s wife,”
r .iid Mrs. Crawford, a day or two- before
she died. “Why, do jam know, that
donation party last Christmas tired
E’e z»r and me completely out. ” — JV. F.
Times.
• _
A Brave Scolcll Woman.
During the height of the recent gale
off the northeast coast of Scotland, says
an English paper, Mrs. Whyte, the
wife of a farm servant, who lives with
her husband in a small cottage on Aber
dour beach, observed the steamer Wil
liam Hope, of Dundee, wrecked in the
bay almost opposite her own doer.
Without a moment’s hesitation and in
the midst of a blinding shower of hail
and sleet this brave woman proceeded
as far as she safely could into the sea
and caught the end if a rope which one
of the crew threw to her. The rope she
fastened round her waist and with her
feet planted firmly on the beach and
with the spray dashing round her she
stood until those on board the steamer
were able to make the necessary ar
rangements for getting ashore, which
they did safely. Mrs. Whyte’s good
ness did not end there. She took the
rescued men to her humble cot, and, so
far as her poor means afforded, supplied
that comfort which the destitute and ex
hausted crew stood mnch in need of.
Nor is this the first occasion upon which
this poor woman has shown herself a
good Samaritan. About two years ago
the Swedish bark Almatar was wrecked
on almost the same spot as the William
Hope. Mrs. Whyte showed the utmost
sympathy and kindness for the stranded
foreigners; she took them to her house,
grudged seither time, convenience nor
material aid, such as was in her power,
to alleviate their wants. These services
Rave never been publicly recognized.
THE PRISON OF LOUVAIN.
BELGIUM’S PECULIAR WAY OF KEEP
ING ITS CONVICTS.
Shut Out From All Intercourse with Fel
low Man—A Terrible Existence.
In the whole of Europe there is but
one prison in which the systems cel
lulaire of absolute isolation by day and
by night is still enforced, and it has, on
that ground, a strange and sad celeb
rity. That one prison is the Maison
Centrale of Louvain, Belgium.
The buildings of the prison nil con
verge to a central apsis, whence a warder
can easily survey the six immense ave
nues or wings, consisting of two stories
of cells. While some slight repairs
were being done to one of these colls, a
figure suddenly appeared standing mo
tionless at the door—a mysterious and
ghastly apparition, clad entirely in
white linen, head and face closely
masked by a hood of the same material.
Air was admitted to eyes, nose, and
mouth by four round holes. Obeying a
rapid sign from the warder, the figure
turned to the wall, and crossed its hand
behind its back. It was a convict. Even
through the apertures of his concealing
beadgear, the prisoner of Louvain must
never catch a passing glimpse of any
human face beyond his keepers, and no
breath of the outer world must ever pass
upon his shrouded cheek. He wears
bis linen hood summer and winter, but
during the cold ho is provided with
narm brown woolen clothes. Labor is
compulsory, and the days are spent in
one unvarying monotonous round of
self-same duties.
At 6 o’clock the peals of an organ
wake the convicts. They come from the
chape), all the doors of which are thrown
open, and the prisoner who can play the
organ strikes the first chords. This is
the signal for ail others to rise, dress,
and malm up their beds and bedding.
The music lasts for fifteen minutes, and
miy, at the will of the player, consist of
religious anthems, operatic airs, waltzes,
or polkas—notes that must strike with
henry significance on the ears of some
of the wretched beings cloistered there.
They do not nil belong to the dregs of
society.
At the last sound of the organ the
warders must find each man at his work.
Breakfast consists of half a pint of coffee
and bread, and the other two meals of the
day of soup and vegetables. Three times
a week the convicts have fresh meat, but
never wine. The convict who has
earned a certificate of good conduct,
however, can procure some at the
prison canteen, as well as beer and to
bacco in staled quantities. Each day
the prisoners arc taken out of their cells
in rotation for solitary exercise in sep
arate yards. The rest of the time is en
tirely given up to the accomplishment
of their allotted portion of work, except
on Sunday which is a day of absolute
rest. Between the religious services the
convicts are at liberty to employ their
leisure in their cells as they think
p oper. The prison library contains a
considerable collection of books of
travel, nnd such publications as the
Magasin Pittoresque from which each
man can make a selection. Only those
who can neither read nor write are com
pelled to attend school for instruction
between mass and vespers. This takes
place in the chapel itself.
Nothing can be more striking than
the construction and internal arrange
ments of this chapel. It is a large cycle
or wheel, consisting entirely of super
posed flights of steps, like a circular and
reversed amphitheatre, the centre of
which forms a raised stage, on which
stands the altar, towering far above the
heads of the phantom-like congregation.
Each row of steps is divided into com
partments or pigeon holes, just large
enough for a man to sit and kneel.
When the hour for divine service has
come, the first cell is opened by a ward
er, and convict No. 1 is led out, con
ducted to the chapel, and, entering the
r >w to which he belongs, walks to the
furthest compartment, which at once
c oses upon him. Then only No. 2
1 nves his cell and goes through the
one performance. And so on till all
are settled—no man being permitted to
mode till the one immediately preceding
him has entered his allotted pen. After
mass they are all taken back into their
cells in the same order and with the
same precautions.
There are about twelve flights of steps,
containing sixty seats each, but as the
circle of the chapel is divided by five or
six immense partitions, iuto each of
which the prisoners are carried simul
taneously, the operation takes compara
tively only a short time. From his
stall each convict is able to see and fol
low every movement of the priest who
officiates at the altar on the central plat
form, while he cannot catch even a
glimpse of his right and left hand
neighbor, owing to the height of the
dividing floors, nor can he look over at
the opposite row, which is hidden by a
boarding higher than himself, and which
as effectual I v shuts out from his view
those above or lielow, before and behind
him.
The cells are clean and well arranged.
Daylight is admitted by a small window
beyond the prisoner’s reach. The ven
tilation is perfect. In winter the
of a hot air pipe gives snffi’ient heat,
and in the evening the necessary light
is procured by a gas jet, to which there
is no access from the interior of the cell.
The furniture consists of a washstand, a
commode on the best sanitary principle,
a shelf supporting some pewter utensils,
and an iron bed. The bedding is a
foundation of sacking, a mattress, two
sheets, one blanket in summer and two
in winter, and a bolster. The convict
has to fold and put these things away.
The bed itself is taken to pieces and
placed against the wall, forming a table,
in front of which is a stool. The re
mainder of the space is taken up by the
implements necessary to the convict’s
obligatory dally task.
The rules of the prison are such that
the convicts must replace their hooded
musks as soon r.s the doors of their cells
open. They cannot expose their faces
even to their warders. If, perchance, r.
face is seen by a doctor it is paled by
the long sunless shadow in which it lives
and the want of bracing, blowing air, for
even the daily walk of an hour in the
prison yards is at best only exercise in
cramped passages between two high
walls, partly roofed, shut in by iron
gates, stretching out like the sticks of a
gigantic fan, and where a few stunted
plants soon wither and die. The pris
oners have that flaccid fleshiness which
comes from absence of movement and
stimulating activity; yet iu contradiction
to the opinion prevailing iu Fiance that
no man could stand solitary confinement
for ten years without succumbing or get
ting insane, it has been found not to be
the case at Louvain. Two of the inmates
have dwelt there since 1864, the date of
its foundation, being transferred to the
Central house after a ten years’ impris
onment at Ghent. They had been con
demned to death, but owing to the vir
tual abolition of the penalty of death in
Belgium, the King had commuted their
sentence to the perpetual entombment
of their present abode. When prisoners
have deserved an alleviation of their
penajtyby ten years of uninterrupted
good conduct, they are sent to Ghent,
where the rules of the prison allow of
their working in common.
— » -
Just Missing an Iceberg.
TUB STEAMSHIP ANERLEY’s NAKH >W ES
CAPE FROM WRECK.
The steamship Anerley, of London,
Oapt. Raeburn, had a very perilous voy
age from Newfoundland to New York,
narrowly escaping collision with an ice
berg. The story, as told by First Offi
cer Richard M. Cox, is as follows:
“We left Bett’s Cove, Newfoundland,
on November 29, with a cargo of 2,100
tons of copper ore, which brought us
pretty deep in the water. The next
morning we were between Fogs Island
and Snap Rock, about thirty miles off
the coast. The waves then washed the
ship fore and aft, making it almost im
possible to get along the decks.
“About 6 o’clock in the morning, while
still dark, standing on the bridge I sight
ed an iceberg directly heading the ship.
I put the helm hard to port and we bare
ly cleared the towering mass of ice to
starboard. Coming head on to the sea a
heavy wave carried the bow of the steam
er high into the air, and descending,
there was a shock that made all bands
think we had struck on Snap Rock. For
a moment the bow of the steamer rested
in midair, then as suddenly plunged
headlong into the sea, and the vessel was
under water, with she exception of the
bridge, from stem to stern. Efforts were
made to launch the life-boats, and two
were broken to pieces by the heavy sea.
“Further attempts were abandoned,
and iu a few minutes an opportunity
offered to sound the pumps. It was
found that the steamer was leaking at
the rate of two feet an hour, principally
in the main hold. The pumps were
kept continually at work until we reached
this port. It is probable that we carried
away a ledge of ice attached to the
’berg and stretching under water. It
was a narrow escape, I can tell you, for
no boat could have lived in that storm
let alone the extreme cold weather.
There was one ludicrous incident, how
ever, connected with the accident It
brought on deck a stowaway who
thought he had better chances there
than in the coal bunkers. He had to
work well for the rest of the passage.”
A Trimmer.
Judge Key, while in Washington, told
a story of a political trimmer in one of
the back counties of Tennessee which
might find its parallel in a broader field
of politics. The county where the inci
dent occurred was very much agitated
over the question of a school tax. This
trimmer was running for some office.
He had never been known to give a de
cided opinion upon any political issue.
One night when he was making a speech
the crowd refused to let him talk any
1 longer unless he would give his views
upon the subject of the school tax.
“Are you for it, or are you against it ?”
shouted the crowd. The orator, pressed
for a reply, said: “You have a right to
ask for an answer. I have no conceal
ments to make. To you I say in all
frankness, if it is a good thing I am for
for it, and if it is a bad thing I am agiu
it.”
—- ■■ - . - -
“How oan we utilize tin scraps?”
asks an exchange. If you have come
down to taking tin scraps in payment
for subscriptions, you had better bny a
goat.
STRAY ODDS AND ENDS. .
A BATCH Or JOK.ES FROM THE fflf-
MOROUB COLUMNS OF THE PAPERS.
A Bls Sheep—How It was I'ronoiincetl—Net
Famltbir with the Name—The Editor’s
Ruse—The Wedding GUIs. Etc.
X.. THE WEDDING GIFTS.
Fond Father—" See here, my daugh
ter, this will never do. You must not
invite those young ladies to your wed
ding.”
Daughter—“ And why not, pa ? They
are particular friends of mine. There
can certainly be no objection to them
socially. Their father is a bank pres
ident.”
“Exactly so, my child, and that’s just
why they must not come. His bank is
the only one I have an account with,
and they might tell their father about
that 8109,000 check which I am to give
yon to display among your wedding
presents.”
“But suppose they do, pa?”
“Can’t you see? He knows I never
had 8500 there at one time in my life.”
—Philadelphia Call.
BEPAETEB
They were lunching, one <lay :
In a handsome case.
And ulie happened to say,
Ab she noticed the way ’
1 hat he and ice-cream were in unity.
‘Can you eat ice-cream with impunity ?”
And he made the reply,
With a wink of the eye,
“No, but I can with a spoon.”
Bnt her triumph came soon;
As they left the saloon,
lie gave her a good opportunity;
“And now Bessie, dear,
As the weather is clear.
Can you take a walk with impunity T"
Her smile was as bright an the moon,
And deliciously shy
Came the mocking reply,
“No, but I can with a spoon.”
Ben Wood Davis.
HE WAS A SHEET.
Au Austin Sunday-school teacher en
deavored to make his pupils under
stand the parable about the good shep
herd. He said :
“Now, little children, suppose you
were all little sheep, what would 1
be ?”
He expected them to say that he
would be the good shepherd, but much
io bis disgust one of them replied :
“If we wore little sheep you would be
a big sheep,” whereupon the teacher
looked very sheepish, indeed. Ho did
not want to be looked upon as a big
sheep— Siftings.
NOT TO BE MADE KNOWN.
Young Husband (complainiugly) I
Wish wo could find a cook who can
make pumpkin pie such as my mother
used to make.
Fashionable Young Wife (with sur
prise)—Did your mother go into the
kitchen and make pie ?
Young H isband—Yes, and mighty
good pie it was, too.
Fashionable Young Wife—Well, I
hope you won’t say anything about it
in the presence of the servants.
NOT FAMITjIAR.
The other day a middle-aged Gorman
woman went into a bank, and in trans
acting the business of her visit it became
necessary for her to write her name. A
pen ready inked was handed her, and
she wrote her first or Christian name
readily enough and in a good hand.
Then she hesitated, stopped, and turn
ing to the waiting cashier, apologetically
said: “I don’t pelieve I can write dot
name. I don’t peen marriet to dis man
long alretty.”
DIDN’T UNDERSTAND.
On an Arkansas railway train, a pas
senger calls the conductor and says:
"Seems to take some time.” “Yes,
they are rather slow to-night,” “Why
don’t you burn coal so you wouldn’t have
to stop and wood up?” “We do burn
coal.” “Then what are you stopping
here for ?” "Oh, I didn’t understand
you when you said it took ’em some
time. We are waiting for the train rob
bers to blow open the express safe.
Don’t be iu a hurry, they'll be through
pretty soon. Ab, here they come now.
Better hold up your hands, I reckon.”—
Arkansaw Traveler.
THE EDITOR j jvruv.
“Met with an accident ?” said a sub
scriber who was two or three years in
arrears, as he entered the sanctum of a
rural editor. “I see your face is bruised
and you have got a black eye.” “Well,”
said the editor, with a sigh, as he arose
and began to roll up his sleeves, “de
linquent subscribers must be made to
pay up somehow, but I sometimes come
out second best, as you see. ” ‘ ‘Ha 1”
laughed the visitor as he took out his
wallet, “I just dropped in so pay
my bill.” And the editor chuckled
softly to himself after the visitor’s de
parture: “Life is full of compensations.
Falling over that wood-box was a bless
ing to me.”— Boston Courier.
ONE WAY TO REMEDY IT.
“My friends,” went on the temper
ance lecturer, “do you realize when
speuding your money for whisky how
little original value yon get for it? Do
you know that you pay ten or fifteen
cents for what costs the producer less
than one-sixth of a cent ?”
A look of horror swept over the faces
of the audience.
“Now,” he went on excitedly, “I ask
you as sens ble and responsible beings,
as men upon whom the support of
wives and little children depends, what
ought to be done?”
“The tax ought to be abolished,” was
the indignant cry.
Some of the New York correspondents
get hold of bizarre bits of news for their
letters to the provincial papers. Among
the latest of their “finds” are thefollow
ng: The son of a millionaire several
: iues over, after being graduated from
college, has now become a porter in a
dovfii-town bouse in order to find out
how it feels to earn his bread. A lady
holds levees to which she invites the
eash boys and girls of the city to meet
foreign notabilities. An opium “joint”
for the best people is about to be opened
on Fifth avenue. And it is more thar.
suspected that a well-known and effem
J mute young man about town is really »
woman.