Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

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.