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PEOPLE OF THE UNITED STATES.
How They are Employed, that Is to Say.
What They do lor a Living.
General Francis A. Walker, in his
lecture on “The Occupations of the
American People,” at the Lowell Insti
tute, said that the census of 1880 gave
the total number of persons engaged in
occupations as 17,892,099, being 34.68
per cent, of the entire population and
47 31 per cent, of the population of ten
years and upward, the total number of
the later being 36,761,607. In 1870 the
number cf those in occupations was
12,505,923, being 32.43 per cent, of the
total population, and 43.30 per cent, of ths
population above ten years of age. The
division of the grand total of 1880
among the tour principal classes of oc
cupations was as follows :
Total number of occupations. ...17.892.099
Agr culture 7.670,493
I o fi ssional and personal service 4,074,238
Trade and transportation 1,810,256
Manufacturing, mining and me
chanical industries 3,837.112
The number of persons of ten years
of age and upward was 30.23 per cent,
greater in 1880 than in 1870. Through
out the country generally the increase
of occupations was largely in excess of
the increase of population. This was
due to the extension of the factory sys
tem and the increased employment of
young children. In great grain-growing
States the tendency was to restrict the
number of bread-winners; in cotton
raising and manufacturing States the
number tended to enlarge; in mining
and grazing States the tendency was
still more marked.
The lecturer had thrown upon the
screen at the back of the platform a
stereoptioon view of a table showing the
comparative increase in occupations and
in population in each State and Terri
tory between 1870 and 1880. The num
ber of persons engaged in mechan
ical and manufacturing occupations in
1880 was 22 per cent, of all occupations
of the census of that year. The largest
body of artisans of one class were th i
carpenters, and they numbered, in 1880,
373,000. The number of coopers is
scarcely larger now than in 1850. A
large advance had been made in the
number of those engaged in mining and
mechanical pursuits. The number of
lawyers had not differed 4,000 from the
number of doctors since 1850. The
number of teachers and dentists has
greatly increased. The statistics of do
mestic services were most interesting;
with all the increase of luxury through
out the country, though the population
has increased thirty per cent., yet the
number of domestics has increased only
ten per cent. This was probably due to
th- fact that much of the work formerly
done by domestics is now done by out
siders, such as bakers and others, with
machinery and skilled workmen, who
supply the home with al) necessaries.
The domestic service of this country and
that of England were compared. In
England not less than one in every three
girls between the ages of fifteen and
twenty years is a domestic servant
An Actress at Home.
A London letter says : It is history'
that Eden Terry was once the wife of
Wat’s, the artist, and I think it is gener
ally known that their living together as
man and wife did not much exceed the
peri d usually allotted to the honey
moon. But the real reason of thiic
separation is not known to the general
newspaper reading public. Watts was
a man of melancholy mien and manner,
soar- thing of the Maltravers stripe, and
he was eccentric in dress after a fashion
of his own. He was very fond of fun,
but that had nothing to do with the
crus-of the separation. His family ob
jected to his union with an actress, and
at first refused to recognize or meet her.
After a mouth, however, Watte succeed
ed ii effecting a reconciliation, and on
the occasion, anxious to do honor to his
wife and to his family, he gave a dinner
to his immediate relations. When Ellen
retired to prepare her toilet Watts
caressingly implored her to dress “so as
to show herself oil' to the best advan
tage ’ in the presence of his family and
relatives. Imagine his horror and their
consternation when Mrs. Watts made
her appearance. She was dressed ala
circus, in a suit of tights, glistening
from head to foot with spangles. Mr.
and Mrs. Watts were not home after
that.
Our Wheat and Corn.
The report of consumption and dis
fiibution of corn and wheat from sta
tistical returns of the Department of
Agriculture shows at 37J per cent of
the last crop of corn remains in farmers’
hands, against 33 per cent on March 1.
1884. The supply in farmers’ hands
last March was 512,000,000 bushels,
while the remainder now is about 675,-
0)0,000. The amount shipped is a few
millions less than last year. The exports
equal 28,000,000 bushels, against 32,-
000,000 at the same date in 1884. The
wheat reported in farmers’ hands is
about 33 per cent of the cr0p—169,000,-
000 bushels, or 50,000,000 bushels more
1 ban the stock of last March, when the
crop was less by 920,00,000 bushels.
Tuere has been a slightly freer use of
wheat for bread, and a little of the poor
er quality has been fed to stock.
— • ' —— " 1
How They Fleet President.
A member of Sorosis says:—Perhaps
the general public would like to know
how Sorosis chooses her president. I
will tell you:
At the annual meeting, first of all the
outgoing president recapitulates what
the has done for the past and weeps.
Next the vice-president implores the
club to re-elect the president, because
she had been so sick, and requests
the opposing candidate to withdraw.
Then the members say “Poor thing !
let’s give ;t to her another year,” and so
the president is again elected, and the
majority are defeated because they can’t
agree on a candidate who is firm enough
to resist entreaty.
(Bajettc.
VOL. XII. SUMMERVILLE. GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY EVENING. APRIL 29.1885. NO. 15.
HUSBAND AND WIFE.
<*ll*B the strangest thing that ever I knew,
And the most provoking ’twixt me and you
And a woman who’s got a man like me,
A good provider, and steady and free
With all her folks, with funds salted down.
And as fine a house as any in town,
To be lamenting ’cause one child in ten
Ain’t quite as good as he might have been.
“It’s a pretty good showing, it seems to mo
That only a tenth of the lot should be
A little off color, and that’s what I say
To their mother twenty times a day.
But I can’t make her see it in that light
Am. she listens and waits night after night
For the sound of his step, till I grow so wild
That I almost curse both mother and child.
“She ought to live for the others, you know,
And let the tormenting vagabond go,
And follow his ways and take the pain;
But I turn him out and she calls him again.
This makes a hardness between her and me,
And the worst of it is, the children agree
That I’m in the right. You’d pity her then;
Such times I think I’m the meanest of men.
“I’ve argued and scolded and coaxed without
end;
Her answer is always: ‘My boy has one friend
As long as I live, and your charge is untrue
That my heart holds no equal love for you
And all the rest. But the one gone astray
Needs me the most and you’ll find ’tis the way
Os all mothers to hold close to the one
Who hurts her the most. So love’s work is
done.’
“Now. what can I say to such words as those?
I’m not convinced, as the history shows,
But I often wonder which one is right,
As I hear her light step night after night,
lleie and there to the window and door,
As she waits with a heart that is heavy and
sore.
I wish the boy dead, while she gives her life
To save him from ein. There’s husband and
wife.”
Toni Sing.
A STOBY FOB YOUNG FOMA
“This will never do, Tom,” said Mr.
Benj .min Slug, as he read his sou’s
school-report for another term. “You
must really rouse up, or you’ll never
make a man of yourself.”
Mr. Slug had got on in the world by
acting on the motto, “Labor conquers
everything,” aud thus from au office-boy
he had risen to the head of the firm.
Justly proud of his own success, aud
knowing its secret, he was very anxious
his son should follow in his steps. To
this end he had put him to the best
schools, and given him every chance of a
good educition. But the burden of
every report was the same : “The lad
has good natural abilities, aud would
make a splendid scholar had he applica
tion”—a polite way of saying that Tom
was lazy.
There was a picture in his bedroom of
a field in a wilderness state of briers aud
thorns. Part of it had been originally
inclosed as a vineyard, but it was now
covered with nettles, and the vines were
overrun with foxes, finding ready en
trance by the ruined wall. In one cor
ner of the vineyard was a lodge, the
latticed window showing the drowsy
keeper within murmuring now and
again; as he turned from side to side •
“Yet a little sleep and a little slumber,
then will I arise and till my field aud
trim my vines.” In the dim distance,
the grim, gaunt, hungry-looking figure
of Poverty was seen stealthily approach
ing. Tom often looked at this picture,
but hitherto had not fully learned its
lesson.
He was a thoughtful boy in his way,
aud sometimes philosophized a bit about
liis lazy tendencies. Indeed, he was a
philosopher in petticoats, for he would
sometimes argue to himself in this way :
“My name is Slug. Why, it’s the
name of that slimy, gliding thing on
the garden walks! Wonder if the
family got its name—as Edward Long
shanks got his, from his long legs—
from the slowness of some member re
minding people of a slug ? If so, how
can I help being sluggish ?—it’s in the
blood.”
Ha had yet to learn that people are
born into the world like colts, and need
breaking-in to be of full use.
The boy was quick with his eyes,
however, if slow with his hands aud
feet. He had picked up a great deal, in
this way about beasts and birds and
flies and creeping things. On this
memorable afternoon he was fresh from
a book about the termites or “white
ants,” found in Africa, which build
nests twelve feet high, some on the
ground, shaped like pointed haycocks or
huge mushiooms, and some in trees,
shaped like sugar-casks, with a covered
way to them, winding round the trunk,
from the ground.
There was a seriousness in his father’s
tone as he begged Tom to free liimsilf
from the growing slavery of indolence
by one graud effort, which made him
feel very miserable and disgusted with
himself. In this mood he wandered
I into the orchard and threw himseif
! down under a tree. It was a beanti'ul
i summer evening. The slanting sunlight
I barred the grass with long shafts of
I green and gold. Hard by, a little
i stream made music as it ran. The air
was thronged w.th insects, dancing
■ away their little day in the sunset hour.
Tom could not help feeling the beauty
I of the scene. And some sense of sweet
ness would mingle with the bitterness
■ that found vent in his tears. When
i these had ceased, his eye chanced to
i fall on a nest of ante, the inmates of
which were very busy around him, some
repairing the nest, others guaniing it
and others carrying stores into it.
As he watched them, the nest began
to grow sensibly bigger, until it seemed
as if he could walk up and down in it.
Tom thought this was a splendid chance
of exploring an ant-hill, and making up
to the nest, was about to enter, when
two of the guards rushed out, clashing
their jaws so fiercely that he felt quite
frightened. He was still more startled,
however, when one of them asked him
what he wanted. On recovering him
self, he made bold to ask if he might be
allowed to see over the nest The
guards conversed for a moment, and
then one of them went inside and pres
ently returned with a kindly, motherly
looking ant, who said: “The queen has
been pleased to grant you your request
and appointed me your guide. Please
step this way.”
The entrance opened into a kind of
hall, which again narrowed into a lobby,
having a pillar at the entrance, midway
between the walls. Seeing Tom look
wonderingly at this pillar, the guide told
him it was to make the nest easier of
defence when attacked.
“You see,” she said, “a couple of ants
could keep a whole army at Lay here.”
Tom thought it a most skillful device.
Passing through this lobby, they came
to another hall, much larger than the
first, with pillars here and there, to sup
port the roof.
“This is the grand assembly-room,”
said the guide.
Then she led him into another lobby,
having a row of cells on each side.
They mounted a staircase, and passed
through a gallery, which also had rows
of cells on each side. There was some
thing, or somebody, in every cell.
Now and again, they met a long
string of ants bearing burdens. The
leader of one of these—a big-jawed ant
siezed Tom with his nippers as they
were passing, and would have made
them meet in his flesh, had not the guide
signaled that he was a friend,
Tom might have grown weary with
his long tramp, but for some entertain
ing accounts of other ant nests by tiie
guide. She described one hollowed out
of the branches and twigs of a thorn tree
for the sake of honey hidden there; an
other purse-shaped, made by gluing
leaves together while on the tree; and
another, stranger still, made with dried
cakes of refuse, arranged like tiles on the
branches of a tree, one large cake form
ing the roof
As they came to one cell a joyous com
pany passed out, haviffg among them a
large ant of very stately bearing.
“The queen I the queen 1” cried the
guide. “Isn’t she a right noble lady ?”
Tom took note how very devoted ami
attentive the ants were to their queen.
Her body-guard lifted her gently over
all rough places; and when the royal
party met a troop of working ants, the
latter divided aud saluted the former as
it passed along.
Turning into the cell the quean had
just left they saw the floor covered with
the smallest eggs Tom had ever seen
They were scarcely bigger than a pin
point. “But come this way,” said the
guide, “and I’ll show you the nursery.”
This was one of the cosiest ceils in the
whole nest. Here, ranged against the
walls like classes in a school, were rows
upon rows of small, white, legless grubs.
They looked like tiny sugar loaves, and
were made up of eleven or twelve rings.
Every little creature had its nurse, who
was either feeding it or washing it, or
just taking it out for an airing, or bring
ing it in.
"What in the world are these funny
little things ?” asked Tom.
“Why, they have come out of eggs
like those you saw just now; and if spared
will be fnll-grown anta some day. Now
you must see the spinning room.” So
saying, the guide led across a passage
into another cell.
Here a number of fine fat grubs were
spinning gauze dresses for themselves,
which were to shroud their bodies from
top to toe. A few were spinning an ad
ditional coat of silk to put over the
}auza dress.
“These are their nightgowns,” said
the guide. “And the moment they are
covered from head to foot they will go to
sleep for a month or six weeks without
waking.”
Tom thought that would be nice.
The spinning room led to the dormi
tory. Here Tom saw what at first looked
like piles of broken twigs and tiny balls
of silk; but when he examined the bits
of stick more closely he could trace the
face and limbs of an insect through the
gauze covering. They looked, for all
the world, like the pictured mummies he
had seen in books. The guards iu the
room looked rather savagely at Tom
when he entered, but a glance from the
guide made all right.
"You need not walk so softly. A
thousand cannon, thundering over them,
would not rouse them until they hal
slept their sleep out. As soon as they
show the least sign of waking, however,
they will be taken into the next room
and swathed.”
To this room they now proceeded.
The sight Tom saw here interested him
much more than anything he had yet
seen in the ant-world. The floor was
strewn with mummy-like forms, and
silk balls like those in the room just
left; but they were stirring a little, as
ii alive. Mounted on each one were
:hree or four ants, who carefully assisted
the inmates to unwrap themselves; then
they took the limbs from their sheaths
and smoothed them out; and at last the
released prisoner stood up on its six
legs, in all the freedom of a full-grown
ant. What a change frem the little
helpless worm 1
Tom examined one of these brand
new anta very minutely. He found the
mouth had two pairs of jaws, which
moved from side to side, and not up
and down, like his own. One pair of
jaws were like toothed scissors, with »
sharp-pointed beak. These, he learned,
were to fight with. From the front of
the head sprang two long-jointed things,
like a thrasher's flail, but club-shaped
at the end. The guide said these were
the most useful things au ant had—arms,
hand, and nose ail in one; and that if
she lost them she was the most helpless
of creatures. But what wonderful eyes I
There were five of them altogether
three arranged in the form of a triangle
on the top of the head, and one on each
aide. The two lust were very large, and
seemed to be made up of hundreds of
smaller eyes. Tom tried to count them,
but when he had reached a thousand iu
one socket alone, he gave it up. Tom
also discovered that each ant had a bag
in its hinder part, filled with poison,
which in fighting it could spurt into
the bodies of its enemies. The guide
told him that one family of anta had
stings as well as poison-bags.
Tom had observed on the backs of
some of the ants when unswathed, and
just above the breathing holes, two pairs
of delicate wings, while the greater num
ber had none. He learned, on inquiry,
that the winged insects were kings aud
queens, aud those without wings, com
mon workers.
On reminding the guide that the
queen they saw a little while ago had no
wiugs, she said: “You are quite right,
Master Sharp-eyes. But she once had
wings, and I'll tell you how she lost
them. The wiugs of the king and
queen are for the wedding-trip only.
The king dies, or is killed off on his re
turn, while the queen strips off her
wings and sets seriously to her life-work
of laying eggs; and that is how she loses
her wings. See I there they go for the
wedding-trip!’’
Tom turned, and saw two rather ele
gant-looking ants, with wings half
raised, making toward the door of the
nest. He and the guide followed just
in time to wish them much happiness, as
they flew away through the sunlight
air.
Tom, seeing himself at the main door
again, and thinking he had trespassed
quite long enough on the kindness of
his ant-friend, turned to thank her, and
Io send also a message of thanks to the
Queen, when she exclaimed:
“Oh, I have a good deal more to
show you. Yon have not seen our cows
yet.”
"Cows, cows? Anta have cows!”
■ried Tom, in astonishment.
“Yes, ants have cows; and if you will
step this way you shall see them.”
Tom obeyed, and they retraced their
steps through one of the long corridors.
As they went along they met an ant
carrying a heavy burden.
“What! busy yet?” said the guide,
and they touched hands as they passed.
“That is one of the best workers in the
whole hive; she works fifteen hours a
lay many a time.” Presently they came
upon a little insect with a tuft of hair
?n its back, which an ant sucked, and
then went away licking its lips. “That
is a walking honey-pot,” said the guide.
“We keep several in the nest, and when
wo want a taste we suck them, as you
saw that ant do just now.”
Tom opened his eyes at this. But he
opened them wider when he learned
that there were ants who were living
honey-jars, who stored up honey and
gave it out as required to the other
members of the community.
Just then a very small ant leaped on
the back of the guide and put its long
spider-legs round her neck.
“Stennie, Stennie, my little pet, don’t
quite choke me with your hugs. You
see we have pets, as well as cows and
living honey-pots,” turning to Tom.
They had now reached the cow-shed,
connected with the main nest by a cov
ered way. It was built round and over
the leaves of a daisy plant which formed
the stalls for the cows.
Tom was looking for a large, four
legged creature, and when the guide
pointed out quite a herd of small, green
insects, he thought she was surely pok
ing fun at him. But these were the
ant-cows. For by and by the milk
maids came in, went up to the cows and
stroked them very gently until drops of
honey fell from them, which they
drank. As Tom stood watching them,
he remembered to have seen green in
sects like these on the rose-trees and
gooseberry bushes in his father's gar
den, and the thought struck him that
what people call honey-dew was the
honey dropped by these little creatures.
The guide told him, as they walked
away, that there were some ante that
grew their own rice and even mush
■ooms.
"Dear me,” thought Tom, “ante are
as clever as men.”
Coming to a door tbit led into the
grand hall and looking in, the guide <x
claimed : “Why, the sports arc on and I
did not know.”
It was a merry scene. At one n.u
was the queen, with all her courtiers
round her, watching ths games. IL n
a long double row of ants were playing
at thread needle. There a com pan}
was dancing; close by were several pait:
wrestling and boxing; while many of tin
youngsters were playing at hide-and
seek all round the hall. Suddenly
when the merriment was at its Light, t
cry was heard : “To the pilar, to flu
pillar 1 The foo, the foe! Seal the
inner doors 1”
The scene was changed in an instant.
The queen had her bodyguard doubled,
and was taken off to the royal cell, and
sealed up. The keepers of the eggs,
the grubs, and the mummies hurried
away to their respective cells, and filled
up the doorways with clay. The cow
keepers did the same with the entrance
to the covered way. All was excitement.
When the defeases were completed, all
waited the onrush of the enemy. But if
proved a false alarm. Ono of the out
posts had indeed seen a legion of soldier
ants iu the distance, tending toward the
nest. They were simply rounding a
hill, however, and then made for a nest
of negro anta, intent on making slaves.
This was the explanation of a scout,
who had been sent out to sec how the
thing would turn.
Tom was utterly dumfounded when he
heard of ant slaves.
“Do ants really make and hold
slaves ?” he asked, in utter astonish
ment, of his guide.
“Yes, some; not all. We have no
slaves, but do all our work ourselves.
There is one tribe of ants, the ‘Ama
zons,’ great slaveholders; but they do
nothing but fight and lounge. They are
very brave in war, however, and never
take or kill the up-grown ants of a nest,
except these try to hinder them from
carrying off their young, which they
want to bring up and make into slaves.
But they have to pay dearly for their
laziness.” Tom winced.
“They are called the ‘Workers;’ but
they are just the opposite when not
fighting. They neither feed nor clean
themselves nor their young ones. All
this is done for them by slaves, who
actually have to carry them on their
backs when they go to a new settle
ment. In fact they have lost the power
of doing anything for themselves through
having everj thing done for them and
not using the power they had. Their
jaws have lost their teeth, and are now
simply nippers with which they kill
their foes. And all this results from in
dolence.”
Tom winced again. Was she pointing
at him ?
“But," she went on, “I know another
tribe, the Roundjaws, who have become
more helpless still in the same way.
They are even losing their nipping
power; and if it were not for their
slaves, who carry them to the field and
then fight by their side, they would
never win a battle. There is one other
tribe which sloth has plunged into yet
deeper depths of degradation, the Worn
outs. They are the mere puppet mas
ters of their slaves, who have become
the real masters. Laziness is a terrible
curse; it can blight the finest powers.”
The speaker’s thousand eyes flashed
fire as she spoke these words, and made
Tom tremble.
Ho shuddered at the picture of the
anta on whom the curse of idleness had
fallen. It made him think of the pic
ture In his bedroom. Did he really see
what his future might be—and would
be, did he not change—in these pic
tures ? And ho groaned aloud, in an
guish of heart, at the thought.
“Tom, Tom, rouse up, my boy! You
will get your death of cold sleeping like
that in the grass. Come in and get
some warm supper. ”
This was Tom’s father, who had been
seeking him, high and low, for some
time, and had found him at last, fast
asleep in the orchard.
Tom’s adventure in an ant-hill was a
dream; yet not all a dream, passing
away with his waking thoughts, like the
morning cloud. The last words of his
guide rang through his mind for many
a day: “Laziness is a terrible curse and
can blight the finest powers.” It was
the turning-point in his life, which suf
fered as great a change as that which
turned the white, legless grub, iu his
dream, into a light airy insect. It was
a new birth. A few months later he
went to busiress, and soon won a char
j ncter for patient industry which he kept
I throughout his life.
Keeping the Pledge.
“In early life,” says “Camp-meeting”
John Allen, “I used to drink. But
sixty years ago I signed a pledge.
That one, though, I didn’t exactly keep.
It was a pledge of my own, and after I
signed it I hid it away In a drawer;
, didn’t let anybody know I had signed it.
| Afterward when I was with some friends
who wanted me to drink 1 took a little,
! and spoilt my pledge. So I went right
home and rubbed out the date,'and just
I changed that over. Then I signed a
society pledge and never drank liquor
as a beverage afterward. Fifty-five
years ago I throwed out tobacco, and
haven’t touched a particle as big as
a mouse’s ear since.”
Learning.—A Texas paper feelingly
lemarks: A man’s education is not com
plete until he runs a newspaper for a
while. Then he learns a great deal that
he did not know before.
THE LIME-KILN CLUB.
Willies OF WISDOM FROM PARA
DISE HA1.1..
An IntcrevllnK Discourse ou Man nnO
His Nature.
“Feller mortals,” said the lecturer,
as he gulped down a glass of water, and
cautiously looked at the three shirt
buttons in the bottom of the glass, “dis
human natur’ of ours am a strange
muddle. We kin feel de sentiment of
hate, love, indifference, sentiment, ad
miration, fear, reverence an’ disgust in
one short day. We attain de highest
eminence, an’ we sink to the lowest
slums. We reverence one man an’ hate
another. We feel hilarious one hour
an’ shed tears of sorrow the next.
Stranger dan all de winds dat blow—
more valuable dan any weather fur
nished by natur’—bold an’ fearless—
weak an’ vascilatin’—human natur’ can
be praised an’ condemned in de same
breaf.
“If we studied de natur’ of man as
clusly as we do dat of a boss we would
not tread on his co’ns so often. Man
am as pliable as ’lasses if you take him
right. If you take him wrong ho am
as brittle as glass an’ as hard as stun.
Dat am a matter we seldom stop to con
sider. We take him as pleases us—not
to please him. Our ideah is dat he
mus’ put up wid our style—not to
bring us to his. I has seen dozens of
men who war’ bo’n all right spilt by
contact wid de world. Nobody took
’em jist right, an’ dey wouldn’t study to
take odder men right.
“Some men kin be bossed—some has
to be coaxed. Some am naterally mulish
—some plastic. Some kin be reached
frew deir weaknesses —some frew deir
strength. A modest man an’ a proud,
vain man mus’ be handled on teetotally
different principles. We make enemies
and meet wid needless rebuffs an’ re
fusals bekase we fail to consider dese
troofs. If our boss has a habit of
bitin’ we lay awake nights to devise some
remedy fur it. If our naybur am a
nateral kicker we ridicule his grievances
an’ burlesque his tribulashuns. If our
hoss am too high-strung to take de whip
we are keerful to keep de lash away
from him. If our naybur am too
proud-spirited to borror our wheelbarrel
au’ lend us his washboa’d we declar him
beneath our notis an’ wash our hands of
de hull fam’ly.
“It am de easiest thing in de world to
make a friend. Fust, locate your man.
Second, size him up. If he am a vain,
proud man praise his personal appear
ance, his home—his wife, chill’en an’
speeches. No man am so poo’ an’ lowly
dat his words of praise won’t soun’
sweet to an egotist.
"If he am a cross, surly, out-o’-sorte
chap, feelin’ sartin in his own mind dal
de world wasn’t built on correct princi
ples, doan’ try to argy wid him to con
vince him dat dis airth am all O. K.
from collar to garret. On de contrary,
side jin r wid him. Growl at de world,
abuse mankind, an’ tell him how sorry
you am dat he wasn’t on han’ to manage
things about 200 y’ars B. C. It will be
like doin’ up a sore toe in a greased
rag.
“When you meet a man who am sort
o’ sneakin’ frew life on de quiet—nebbar
heard of outside of his own nayburhood
—modest, unassumin’, an’ only wantin’
to be let alone, feed him gum-drops.
Tell him you have heard his name men
shuned as candidate for aiderman. Ask
what y’ar it was when lie run fur de
Legislachur. Inqnar’ when his next
book of poems am to be published. Ax
him if he am de Smith who Invented de
comet. He will cringe and wince, but
he will go home an’ think ii ober an’ be
youi friend fur life.
“Dar’ am cranks to be humored. Dar
am eccentrics to be praised. Dar’ am
circlin’ ’round us day by day a chain of
men an’ women who doan’ know beans
from broomsticks, but who mus’ be com
plimented on deir exquisite tastes an’
high order of intelleck.
“As de- time allotted to me has ’bout
expired, let me say to you, in closin’ dis
discourse, dat de man who makes ene
mies am no reader of human natur’. It
am jist as easy to make ten good friends
as one enemy. Abuse no man’s poly
tics. blur no man’s religion. Hold no
argyments wid a man who has been
soured by misfortunes. As fur women
—treat ail alike by praisin’ all. My
frens,” said Brother Gardner as he made
ready to close the meeting, “study
human natur’. Begin to-night. Begin
by givin’ de gineral public half de side
walk on your way homo, an’ keep it up
by promisin’ de cle woman a new p’ar
of shoes if you find her in de sulks. Let
us now circulate. ’
Killed by His Own Gun.
Seth Hoover, of Hanging Rock, Pa.,
came in from duck shooting on Tues
day. He laid his gun on a bed in his
kitchen.
“Why don’t you bang your gun up
where it belongs ?” said his wife.
“What’s to hinder you hanging it up
yourself,” said Hoover. He was stand
ing opposite the bed combing his hair.
Mrs. Hoover took hold of the gun, and
iu drawing it off the bed the hammer
caught in the bed clothes in some way
aud was raised. When released it fell
and the gnu was discharged. The load
struck Hoover under the arm, killing
him instantly.
THE HUMOROUS PAPERS.
WHAT WE FIND IN THEM THIS
WEEK TO SMILE OVER.
Not in his OlUce-A Street Romance—lnno
cent Childhood-Fun Iu Ronton, Etc.
THE SEASONS.
1. The winter’s almost past, the time
is coming fast that brings the genial
sunshine bright and clear, clear, clear,
and paragraphers gay will shortly put
away the sealskin joke until another
year, year, year.
2. The coal man and the plumber, all
through the coming summer, will be
allowed to take a well-earned rest, rest,
rest, and, springing from its tomb, the
ice cream joke will boom in new and
handsome garments gayly dressed,
dressed, dressed.
3. The picnic sandwich, too, exist
ence will renew, and jokers on its make
up will descant, cant, cant, declaring it
is made of neither ham nor bread, but
from the hardest kind of adamant, mant,
mant.
4. Then, both in prose and verse, the
jokers will rehearse the tale anent the
lovers who till late, late, late, sit on the
stoop and spoon, or 'neath the silver
moon together swing upon the garden
gate, gate, gate.
5. But this is merely done for pur
poses of fun, intended as a little harm
less chaff, chaff, chaff—no malice in the
play—to drive dull care away, and make
the melancholy person laugh, laugh,
laugh.— Boston Courier.
a mother’s poem on baby.
A young mother sends us a poem
upon “Baby.” It is certainly a gem.
The only fault we have to find with it is
that of sacrificing melody to hard sense.
The third stanza is a striking instance
of this:
Doxery doodle-um dinkle-um dum,
Turn to its mozzery muzzery mum;
Tizzery, izzery, boozery boo,
No baby bo sweet aud bo pitty as ’oo.
Upton yews.
A CHIP OF THE OLD BLOCK.
“I don’t feel very well this morning,”
complained Smith; “that baby of mine
kept me walking with him most of the
night."
“He must be a chip of the old block,”
ventured Brown.
“How’s that?”
“He lets the other fellow walk.”
HE MOVED.
A Detroit gentleman went to his front
door one fine afternoon to inhale the
balmy air of spring. To him a casual
passer-by remarked : "I'll bet you two
dollars, Mister, that you’ll move before
night.” "You are an impudent fellow,”
replied the gentleman, “but I’ll take
your bet. Why do you think lam go
ing to move?” “Because, Mister, your
house is afire.”
INNOCENT CHILDHOOD.
Fond mother—What a dear, sweet
little fellow Bobby is 1 He asked me
last night if he were to die and go to
heaven if I thought God would let him
play with the stars.
Father (turning his boot upside down
and shaking it violently)—Now, who put
that tooth brush and powder in there ?
Fond mother (resignedly)—Oh, I sup
pose it was Bobby.— N. K Times.
NEVEB SUBE ANY MOBE.
A certain official has an old co) >red
man in his office who builds fires,
sweeps out and holds the fort while the
official goes out to “ see a man,’ or on
other business. The other day a visitor
met the old darkey on the street.
“Sam,” he called to him, “is Mr. X.
in his office ?”
“Yes, sab; leas’ ways he war when I
come away.”
“Well, I’ve got to go up to the next
square; do you think he’ll be there when
I get back ?”
“I don’t know ’bout dat, sab. Yo’
see, boss, hits a gittin’ mighty nigh on
ter de time when yo’ can’t fin’ no ’Pub
licans in dar offices, an’ Ise a little
shaky ebery time I leabes do boss dat
when I come back dar’ll be some Dimo
crat er uddah settin’ in his cheer, jis
ez if he owned the whole shebang. Yo’
bettah go now, sah, au’ be sho’ uv ’im.”
—Merchant Traveler.
NOT A DIBECT BEFEIIENOE.
Dnmley (to landlady)—Dr. B. was
asking after you to-day, Mrs. Hen
dricks.
Mrs. Hendricks—Thanks ; the doctor
is very kind.
Dumley—He boarded with you at one
time, did he not ?
Mrs. Hendricks—He took table board
only for a little while, but he found the
location rather inconvenient. Did he
refer to boarding with me?
Dumley—No, not directly. He gave
me a prescription, and, when I asked
him if I should take it before or after
meals, he said it wouldn’t make the
slirhtest difference.
ONLY AN ORANGE BLOSSOM.
A young lady residing in Phenix re
ceived from a friend traveling in Florida
a box filled with orange blossoms and
leaves, which were as fresh as when
gathered. They came by mail, packed
in cotton. A sarcastic gentleman, on
viewing them, said : “I thought when
girls had bouquets of orange blossoms
around there was always a man in a full
dress suit and bridemaids and a clergy
man; but you don’t seem to have these
needed accessories.” "The person who
sent the blossoms omitted to send a
bridegroom,” quickly replied the girl;
“but I’ll write and ask him to send an
alligator; that will have more brains
than some men I’ve seen.”— Providence
Journal.
SOUND AND SENSE.
“Who is that new mm that opened a
wood yard or something on Second
street and bought a bill of goods of us
last Saturday?” asked old Hyson; “I’ve
lost his card and forgotten his name.”
“I don’t know,” replied the office
boy.
“Well,” said the old man, “I hate to
ask him. Run down to the corner and
see what is on his sign; that’ll give it.”
Presently ‘he boy came back.
“Lime and coal,” he said.
And old Hyson calmly charged the
bill up to Lyman Cole.— Burdette,