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A oft h Ge orgi ar),
Pl W'l’Hl.D EVERY TH
-*T-
BRbI.TON, GA..
RY JOHN
•gSteaas’*'*
cy ao, wy can
TMK LOTU ER.
®Y WILLIAM WINTER.
Though still the heart of twilight grterw*,
As evening’s sun sinks low,
And sad winds stir the fallen leave*
w it h songs of long ago.
>o shadow grim can eter dim
The glory of this hoar,
vhile thus the Waring hearth trim
Beneath the tottia dower,
•neb light.
And (freani-sm vouth depart,
~ w •*
Tta ?pnr te lifn.of pare eebtrnt,
• Ourmbor manhoocfnaow.r, **
E«wt pe» r .. wd mini blent
Beneath the tor us flower
Tn that dust land of mjstfc dream
w here dark ttotrf sprung.
. t bloomed t'esidebis sacred stream
w hile yet the world was yonng,
Ami every «ecrat nature told
Os golden wisdom’s }x>wer,
Is nestled still jp every fold
Within the lotus flojrer.
Here let our weary burdens fall.
And nassion's longings cease.
The gods of life have give* all
!■ qu her '<-auii»lK<rer, ’ i
Whila here the toviMg cup we quaff
Beneath the lotus flower.
THE HOSTLER’S BTORY.
J. T. TROWBinjiK., , 4
What amused us most.is the Jj»Ke
House last summer was the performance
•of a hea< in the back-yard.
He was fastened to a pole Ay a flhain,
which gave him a langeof * dozen or
fifteen feet. It was not very safe for
visitors to come within that circle, un
'ess they were prepar.d for rough
handling.
He had away cf suddenly-catching
you to his bosom and picking your
pockets of peanuts and candy—if you
carried any about you-sin n manner
which took your breath away. He stood ,
up to his work on bi* hind legs in a
unite human fashion, and used to paw
and tongue with amazing skill and
vivacity. He was friendly and didn’t
mean any harm, but he Wks a rude
playfellow. wi
1 shall never forget the luaicrous ad
venture of a dandified New Yorker,
who came out into the yard to fe d bruin
on seed cakes, and did not feed him fast
enough.
He approached a trifle too near, when
all at once the bear whipped an arm
sbouLhim, took him to his embrace and
■' went through ,r his poeket/in a hurry.
The tei rifled face of the struggling and
screaming fop, and the good-natured,
hueinesft-like exprewm of the-fwmbling
and munching beast, offered the funniest
sort of a contrast.
The one eyed hostler, who was the !
bear’s special guardian, lounged quite I
leisurely to the spot.
" Keep still, and he won’t hurt ye,” !
be said, turning his quid. “ That’s one ■
•of his tricks. Throw out what you’ve I
got. and he’ll leave ye.”
The dandy made h-ste to help bruin ■
to the last of the seed cakes, and he I
escaped without injury, but in a ridicu- ;
lous plight —his hat smashed, his neck- I
tie and his linen rumpled, and his '
watch dangling—but his fright was the j
most laughable part of ail.
The one-eyed hostler then made a
motion tn the beast, who immediately
climbed the pole and looked at us from
a cross-piece on the top.
“A bear,” said the one-eyed hostler,
turning h’s quid again, “is the best
bea ted, knowin’est critter that goes on
all-fours. I’m speakin’ of our native
biack bear, you understand. The brown ;
bear ain't half so respectable, and the
trrizzly bear is one of the ugliest brutes
in creation. Come down here, Pomp.”
Pomp slipped down the pole and ad
vanced to the one eyed hostler, walking
on hie. hind legs and rattling his chain.
" Piavfiil as a kit en!” said the one
eyed hi'stler, f ndly. “I ll show ye.”
He took a wooden bar from a clothes
horse near by, and made a lunge with
ft at Pomp’s breast.
No pugilist or fencing-master could I
have parried a blow more ueatl>. Then j
the one-eyed hostler began to thrust ;
and strike with the bar as if in down- I
right earnest.
"Rather sava.-e play,” I remarked.
And a friend at my side, who never
misses a chance to make a pun, added:
" Yes, a decided act of bar-bearity.”
" Oh, he 1 kes it 1” said the one-eyed
hostler. “Y- can't hit him.”
And indeed it was so. No matter I
how-or where the blow was aimed, a i
movement < f Pomp's paw, as quick as j
a flash of I ghtiiing, knocked it aside,
and he stood good-humoredly waiting
for more. “Once in a while,” said the
ope-e'ed hostler, resting from the ex
ercise ami leaning on the bar, while
Pomp retired to his pole, “there’s a
b ar of this species that’s vicious and
blood-thirsty, General yj you let them
alone, end they’ll let you alone. They j
won’t run from you, maybe, but they
won’t go out of their way to pick a
quarrel. They don’t swagger around
with a ch'p or. the r shoulder lookin’
for some fool to knock it off.
“Will they <at you!” Mme one in I
qutred : for there was a ring of spectators
around the performers by this time.
“As likely as not, if thev are sharp
set, and yr u lay yourself out to be
eaten, but it ain’t their habit to go for
htltnan flesh. Roots, nuts, berries, bugs
and any small game they can pick up,
satisfies their humble appetites as a
general thing.” ,
The one-eyed hostler leaned against
the post, stroked Pomp’s fur affection
atelv, and continued somewhat in this
tyle:
Bears are particularly fond of fat,
juicy pigs i and once give ’em a taste of
numan flesh—why, 1 shouldn’t want
my children to be'playin’ in the woods
within a good many miles of their den!
The North Georgian.
VOL. 111.
Which reminds me of old Two Claws,
as they used to call him. a bear that
plagued the folks over in Bridgetown
where I was brought up, wall, as much
as forty years ago.
He. got his name from the peculiar
: shape of his foot, and he got that from
| trifling with a gun-trap.*You know
I what that is—a loaded in such
i away that a bear or anv£repte that's
curious about it must couiMfn to it the
' way it p’nta; a bait is hiNg before the
‘ muzzle and a string runs from that to
| the trigger.
: He wa? a cunning fellow, and he put
'’out an investigatin’ paw at the piece of
i pork before trying his jaws on it; so in
, stead of gettin’ a bullet in the head, he
, merely had a bit of his paw shot off.
1 There were but two claws left on that
; foot, as feis bloody tracks showed.
He gbt off’; but hie experience seemed
. to have souped his disposition. He owed
[ a spite to the settlement.
< hie night a great row was heard in
my uhele e pig-pen. He and the boys
' rushed out with pitchforks, a gun, and
a lantern. They knew what the trouble
was, or soon found out A huge black
bear had broken down the side of thi
pen; he had seized a fat porker, and was
actually lugging him ofl in bis arms!
The pig was Kicking and squealing, but
he bear had him fast. He did not seem
at all inclined to g ve up his prey; even
when attacked. He looked sullen and
ugly, but a few jabs from a pitchfork,
and a shot in the shoulder convinced
i him that he was making a mistake.
He dropped the pig and ran away be
fore my uncle could load up for a another
shot. The next morning they examined
his tracks. It was old Two Claws.
But what spi’lt him for being a quiet
neighbor was something that happened
about a year after that.
There was a roving family of Indians
•encamped near the settlement, hunting,
fishing and making moccasins and
baskets, which they traded the whites.
One afternoon the Red-Sky-of-the
i Morning wife of the Water-Snake-with
| the-Long-Tail came over to the settle
! ment with some to their truck for sale.
She had a pajioose on her back strapped
on a board; another squaw traveled
with her, carrying an empty jug.
Almost within sight of Gorman’s
grocery, Red-Sky took off her pajtoose
iftid hung it on a tree. The fellows
around tne store had made fun of it
when she was there once before, so she
preferred to leave it in the woods rather
than expose it to the coarse jokes of the
boys. The little thing was used t‘< such 1
treatment. Whether carried or hung 1
up. papoosey never cried.
The squaws traded off their truck, i
i and bought, with other luxuries of i
j civilization, a gallon of whisky. They I
I drank out of the jug, and then looked
at more goods. • I’hen they drank again,
and from being shy and silent, as at
I first, they giggled and chatted like a
j couple of silly white girls. They speut
; a good deal more time and money at
I German’s than they would if it hadn’t
j been for the whisky, but finally they
I started to go back through the woods.
They went chattering and giggling to i
i the tree where the papoose had been left. I
I There’was no panoose there.
This d scovery sobered them. They ;
thought at first that the fellows around I
the store had played thrm a trick by |
taking it away, but by-and-by the Red- I
Sky-of-the-Morning set up a shriek.
She had found the board not far off, |
but no papoose strapped to it, only I
something that told the story of what j
I had happened.
There were bear tracks around the :
spot. One of the prints showed only
two claws.
The Red ISky-of-the-Morning went ;
back to camo with the news; and the i
other squaw followed with the jug.
When the Water-Snake-with-the- j
Long-Tail heard that his papoose had I
been eaten by the bear he felt, 1 sup- I
pose, very much as any white father j
would bave felt under the circum-
I stances. He vow< d vengeance against '
| o'd Two Claws, but consoled himself
with a drink of the fire-wator before
j starting on the hunt.
Tne braves with him followed his ex- i
ample. It wasn’t in Indian nature to
start until they had emptied the jug, so .
it happened that old Two Claws got ofl i
again. Tipsy braves can’t follow a trail ■
worth a cent
Not very long after that a woman in '
j a neighboring settlement beard her |
I children scream one day in the woods |
: near the house. She tusbed out, and {
actually saw a bear lugging ofl her :
youngest.
She was a sickly, feeble sort of woman. 1
but such a sight was enough to give her ■
the strength and courage of a man. She
ran and caught up an ax. Luckily she
had a big dog. The two went at the
bear.
The old fellow had no notion of losing
his (tinner just for a woman and a mon
grel cur. But she struck him a tremen
dous blow on the back; at the same
time the pup got him by the leg. He
' dropped the youngest one to defend
■ himself. She caught it up and ran,
leaving the two beasts to have it out to
| aether.
The bear made short work with the
i cur; but instead of following the
1 woman and child, he skulked off into
I the wood.
The settlers got together for a grand
- hunt, but old Two Claws—for the tracks
; showed that he was the scoundrel—es
caped into the mountains, and lived to
make more trouble another day.
The child? Oh, the child was scarcely
i hurt. It had got squeezed and scratched
a little in the final tussel—that was all.
! As to the bear, he was next heard of
i in our settlement.
; [The hostler hesitated, winked his one
j eye with an odd expression, put a fresh
BELLTON, BANKS COUNTV, GA.. MAY 20. 1880
quid into his cheek, and finally re
sumed :]
A brother-in-law of my uncle, a man
by thenMweof Rush, was one drty'chop
ping iu the woods about , half a mile
from hi’ house, when hisiwifo went out
to carry luncheon. She left two
<hi 1 drecgfcapme. a boy about five years
old-, baby just big enough to
I toddle around.
The boy bad often keen told that if
| he’ strayed into the woods with his
j brother that a bear might carry them ofl,
- and she'e’-.arged them atrain that fore
noon licit fojgo away from the house;
but he was atr-enterprising little fellow,
and when the sun shone so pleasant and
the woods looked io inviting he wasn’t
to be afraid of bears.
Tha,woman stopped to see her hus
band fell a b’g beach be was cutting,
and then went back to the house, but,
just-before she got there, she raw the
I oldest boy coming ou< pl the woods on
I the other side. He wag alone. He was
i white as a sheet, and so frightened at I
first that he couldn’t speak.
“ Johnny,” said she, catching hold of
J him, “ what is the matter?”
| “A bear,” he gasped out at last.
i “ Where is your little brother?" was
the next question.
“ I don’t know,” said he, too much
frightened to know anything just then.
“ Where did you leave your brother?”
said-she.
Then he seemed *o have gotten his
wits together a little. "A bear took
him I” said he.
! You can guess what sort of agony
the mother was in.
“ Oh, Johnny, tell me true! Think!
j Where was it? ’
"In the woods,” he said. “Bear
came along—l run.”
She caught him up and hurried with
him into the woods. She begged him to
show her where he was with bis little
brother when the bear came along. He
pointed out two or three places. In one
of them the earth was soft. There
were fresh tracks crossing it—bear
tracks There was no doubt about it.
It was a terrible situation for a Yioor
woman. Whether to follow the bear
and try to recover her child, or go at ’
once for her husband, or alarm the
neighbors; what to do with Johnny
meanwhile—all that wo'uld bave been
I hard enough for her to decide even if
: she had had her wits about her.
She hardly knew what she did but i
I just followed her instinct, and ran with
i Johnny in her arms, or dragging him
I after her, to where her husband was
' cfoq’pfng.’
Wei 1, [continued theone-eyed hostler,] i
i I needn’t try to describe what followed. (
i They went back to the bouse, and Rush
; took his rifle and started on the track of
the bear, vowing that, he would not
come back without either the child or
the bear’s hide.
The news went like wildfire through
the settlement. In an hour ard a half a I
dozen men, with their dogs, were on the i
track with Rush. It was so much trou- j
ble for him to follow the trail that they i
I soon overtook him, with the help of the I
dogs.
But in spite of them the bear got [
into the mountains. Two of the dogs
got up with him and one, the only one
that could follow a scent had his back
broken by a stroke of his paw. After
that it was almost impossible to track
him, and one alter another the hunters
gave up and returned home.
At last Rush was left alone, but
nothing could induce him to turn back.
He shot some small game in the moun
tains, which he cooked for bis supper, j
slept on the ground and started on the I
trail again in the morning.
Along in the forenoon he came in
sight of the bear as be was crossing a
strihm. He had a good shot at him as
he was climbing the bank on the other
side.
The bear kept on, but it was easier
tracking him after that by bis blood.
J hat evening a hunter, haggard, his I
clothes ail in tatters, found his way to a
backwoodsman’s hut over in White
Valley. It was Rush. He told his
story in a few words as he rested on a
stool. He had found no traces of his
child, but he had killed the bear. It
was old Two Claws. He had left him on
the bills and come to the settlement for
help.
The hunt had taken him a round
’ about course, and he was then not more
than seven miles from home. The next
, day, gun in hand, with the bearskin
i strapped to his back—the carca’S had
been given to his friend, the backwoods
man—he start/d to return by an easier
1 way through the woods.
It was a sad revenge he had had, but
there was a grim sort of satisfaction in
bringing home the hide of old Two ;
Claws.
As he came in sight of hi« log house,
out ran his wife to meet him, with—
what do you suppose?—little Johnny
dragging at her skirts, and the lost child
in her arms!
Then, for the first time, the man
dropped, but he didn’t get down any
further than his knees. He clung to
j his wife and baby and thanked God for
j the miracle. i
But it wasn’t much of a miracle, after
all.
Little Johnny had been playing around 1
! the door, and lost sight of the baby—
- and, maybe, forgotten all about him— I
when he strayed into the woods and saw
the bear. Then he remembered all that i
he had heard of the danger of being
carried off and eaten, and of course he \
■ had a terrible fright. When asked about
i his little brother he didn’t know any- ’
; thing about him, and, 1 suppose, really
; imagined that the bear had got him.
But the baby had crawled into a snug
I place under the side of the rain-trough,
i and there he was, fast asleep all the I
while. When he woke, two or three
hours after, and bis mother heard him
crjj, her busband was far away on the
- story I’ve told?’’ added
th* one-eyed hostler, as someone ques
tioned him. “ Every word of it I”
“But your name is Rush, isn’t it?’
I said.
The one eye twinkled humorously.
"My name is Rush. My uncle's
brother-in-law was mv own father.”
“And you? ’ exclaimed a bystander.
"1,” said theone-eyed hostler, “am
the very man who warn’t eaten by the
bear when I was a babv!”
UL. . 1J
The Trials of An Engaged Girl.
• Home Journal.]
After all, the yoke of marriage is an
apparatus that should sit on two pairs
of shoulders; and there is nothing very
seemly iu seeing a girl wait to wear her
own part of it until it has been nicely
( padded with quilted satin. Looking at
the matter from a less elevated point of
view, long engagements are rather tire
some in restricting the liberty of girls.
Miss Jenny, who is going to marry Mr.
Simpson as soon as that hopeful young
man gets a living, is obliged in the
meanwhile to deny herself many pleas
ures, least Simpson should take offense.
She must eschew balls; she must take
care that nobody makeqlove to her; and
foil this purpose she is obliged to let all
chance comers be speedily informed of
her engagement. Unhappily, the sym
bolism of rings is always unregarded,
else the chance comers might discover
the fact for themselves by koking at
the second finger of Miss Jenny’s left
hand. If Jenny has no sisters'to talk
of her betrothal, and if her mother does
not accept timely hints to mention it on
every necessary occasion, the girl is
rather embarra-sed for words in which
to convey the news delicately to strang
ers She cannot allude to Mr. Simpson
as “Johnny—’’that would be too fa
miliar; she cannot speak of him as
‘ Simpson,” for this would sound
strange; but if she refers to him fre,
quently as “Mr. Simpson,” strangers
might draw undesirableinferenc.es from
,1101 apparent familiaritv with it person
thus coldly specified. Then the engaged
girl has to put up with a great deal of
chafl, which is only pleasing for a w hile
and afterwards becomes intolerable
The trials of matrimony are frequently
commended to her impatient attention
byway of paternal rebuke: “Ah, my
dear, you will find out that I was right
' when you are a wife yourself!” ana+o
| forth; or a snub is put upon her too
i hasty wish to consider herself free by
reminder that she is not married
yet, and that there is many a slip be
tween cup and lip. Sometimes Simp
son is actually held up to her as a
bogey: "My dear, I don’t think Mr.
Simpson would quite approve of your
j wearing that cherty ribbon;” “Jenny,
: dear, 1 think Mr. Simpson would be
j tadly grieved if he heard you express
| those opinions,” or “Jenny, I am sure
j Mr. Simpson would not think it proper
I that you should p'ay croquet with Capt.
I Mallet.” There is enough in all this
to make a girl sit down and scream.
Production of Mohair—A New Indus
try.
The Legislature of Virginia recently j
granted a charter for the incorporation j
of a company Io be known as the “Vir- i
ginia Angora Company.” The capital
of the Association is p'aced at $2,000,-
i 000, of which amount $130,000 is said
Ito have already been subscribed. Ac
■ cording to its charter the company is
' permitted to hold in fee two hundred
thousand acres of land, and to issue
bonds, but not without the consent of
nine-tenths of all the stockholders. A
contract has been made with California
parties to transfer their stock of thor '
oughbred Angoras to Virginia, and to I
furnish also twenty thousand ewe goats j
lof original Maltese stock, to be pur- !
j chased in and brought from Mexico.
Although the industry has been suc
cessful in California, yet the conditions
for success are so far superior in the
mountains of Virginia as to warrant
the transfer of the herds and an expen
diture of about $200,000 in making the
transfer and in improvements.
The Angora goat is a peculiar animal
found only in a very limited area in
Asia Minor, at an average elevation of
four thousand feet above tide, in lati
tude about 40° North, a winter climate
as low at zero of Fahrenheit, and a
moderately hot climate in summer, con
ditions, all of which, as well as the kind
and quality of herbage, are all fulfilled
tn the location secured in Virginia. By
permitting nobreeding except from pure
thoroughbred bucks, the fourth cross
givap a wool as fine, long and silky as
the’pure stock, and scarcely distinguish
able by experienced experts.
The production of mohair will be the
principal business of the company, but !
other imnortant industries will be car- 1
ried on in connection with it, such as i
hides for morocco, tallow for the highest [
j grades of fancy soaps, furs, robes, mats '
and trimmings, Swiss cheese from the I
! milk. The weathers will all be slaugh
j tered at a proper age. They become
| very large and fat, and the flesh is
' much superior to mutton, and scarcely
i distinguishable from the best venison,
' for which the saddles are usually sold,
j Large numbers of hogs will be fattened
: on the refuse, and g’ue and fertilizers
: manufactured from the scrapsand bones.
The horns command high rates for cer
tain manufactures.
“Love, faith, patience—the three es
sentials of a happy life,” says a phiioso
j pher. Yes, but cheek, money and ener
gy are the three essentials of a business
i life,
NO. 20.
The Important Young Man.
[Oil CH) -Derrick.!
There is another fool who talks leud
j in the cars, and by the same we know
| that the only time he ever left home was
when he went on a cheap excursion to
| Philadelphia, and carried a lunch in his
j pocket. He has the silver fever, and is
j going to Denver, This fact he an
' nounces as soon as the car starts by bid
ding good-bye to-his friends, and telling
them in a voice like a hotel gong to
write him all the news, and remember
his postoffice address will be Denver,
Colorado.
He goes at once to the newsboy, and
while buying a five cent cigar informs
I him that he presumes he can’t get as
good cigars in Denver as he can here.
The newsboy at once makes an estimate
of his foolishness and says: “ Going to
Denver, are you?” “Oh, yes,” is the
response, as if it was an every day oc
currence for him to go there. And the
newsboy marks him for a victim and
plies him with pamphlets and candies,
apples and oranges, affd reckoneth up his
profits that night at ten per cent, ad
vance over previous days.
He who is going to Denver returneth
to his scat and informs the man in his
rear that “ piles of fortutes are to be
made in Colorado.”
“ Goirg there?” asks the passenger,
not sos information, for that has been
given, but to test the young man’s
foolishness.
•* Oh yes,” he says.
He leans forward to the man in the
front seat, and says: “ How far you
goin’?”
“ Pittsburg. How far are you.”
“ I’m going to Denver.”
“ You are?”
“ Ob, yes.”
The conductor comes along and takes
his ticket. “Do 1 get a train through
to Denver as soon as I change?”
“Yes. Going to Denver?”
“ Oh, yes.”
And the conductor winketh, and the
passengers smile at his conceit. But the
time of rejoicing cometh when the pas
senger in tie front seat gets off and his
place is taken by a man who is not at all
curious. To him sayeth the young man
for Denver, “ Pleasant weal her.”
“ Yes.”
“Probably it is cooler in Denver?”
“ Probably.”
“ Pil find out in a lew days.”
No answer. The young man feels as
if his importance wasn’t recognized and
makes another attempt :
“ I spose there’s a pretty good chance
to make a fortune in Colorado?”
“ I don’t know.”
“ Well, I’m going there to find out.”
Another silence, during which the
passengers look out of the front window
and smile. The young roan draws a long
breath a d starts it again:
! “Not many fellows who’d go so far
! from home, and depend on themselves
for a living.”
The silence becomes oppressive, but
the young man is persevering. He leans
over, taps the man on the shoulder, and
says:
“ You had better go along to Denver
with me.”
Then the passenger wakes up and he
says, “ Thunder, young man ; I’ve lived
in Denver ten years.”
Ai.d the passengers weep not, neither
de they wail, but verily they feel that
their days are full of fun ar.d pleasure.
No I'liarge for Pain.
After Dr. Hall, of Elmira, had given
his price for extracting a tooth without
pain to a caller at his office a few days
ago, the man desired to know his charge
if it was taken out with pain. The
obliging doctor replied that, in consid
eration of their close relationship, both
being descendants of the man whom
Elmira is delighting to honor, viz.,
Adam, be would extract the tooth and
throw in the pain without extra charge
—in fai t, the relationship being so close,
he was willing to make a handsome re
duction in the price. At ibis offer the
visitor jumped into the chairand had
the aching molar out, but was dissatis
fied, and desired to avoid payment, be
cause the doctor’s dexterity was such
that the tooth was out before he was
fairly aware of it and the amount of
pain. He says that another time he
will go to some office where, if he bar
gains for pain, he will gel it, and not
nave his tooth puiled out so quick that
be don’t know’ it. Some people are
never satisfied.
A Forged Letter.
(From tlif oil City Derrick.]
“ I’ve got a letter here,” said Colonel
Solon yesterday, “which some one ur
nuther is tryin’ to play ofl on me as a
reg’lar letter from Joe Kuntz,” and the
Colonel t laced the letter on the desk. It
was neatly written and Joe’s name was
signed to it correctly.
“Certainly, Colonel, that’s Joe’s let
ter,” said we.
“No, sir-ee bob, no sir,” said the Colo
nel, very positively, “that air letter is a
forgery; coz Joe stutters worse than
whisky flowin’ outen a bottle, an’ this
’ere letter reads as straight as a mill-
I race.”
And the Colonel wouldn’t be con
: vinced that Joe didn’t stutter in his
| writing.
A MAN and his wife were passing a
; house where a lot of furniture was dis
played, apparently for sa'e. The man
said io his wile, “I will step in and ask
! the auctioneer if there is an auction
i here.” He soon returned and said,
! “The auctioneer says there is no auction
I here but there is an auction near.” His
| wife was quick enough for him, howev
i er, for she a«ked, ‘kVendte they sell?”
PuBLifHET) Every Thursday at
BETjLTON. OEORO-I a
RATES OF SUBSORIPTION.
One year (52 number ), $1 00; fix mrn’.bs
(26 numbers) 50 cents ;-th r ee months ('8
numbers) 25 cents.
Office in the,Smith building, ea t of the
depot.
PASSING SMILES.
.The Guinea hen talks too much to be
a g»d layer.—[New Orleans Picaipine
A remark that always provokes
“smile”—“ What will you take?’
A “ Fireman ” wants to know bow to
prevent hose from bursting? Don’t
wear 'em.
“Whom shall we marry?” asks an
exchange. If you are a man you will
marry a woman.
In use of sounding words men are
quite rash. They talk of mystery, and
mean but hash.
Eve came silently into the world on
the first man’s sleep year. She saw
him and Adam at once.
The man who hesitates is lost, but
the woman who hesitates gets a fresh
grip on her side of the argument.
The Heral'i has a long article
entitled “Froude on Bunyan.” We
congratulate Mr. Froude that the bunion
is not on him.
The difference between a church or
ganist and the catarrh is said to be that
the one knows the stops and the other
stops the nose.
A country editor has written to his
member of Congress that they must re
move the tariff from paper pulp, adding
that he will get on a tariff they don’t.
An observing butcher has discovered
that the man who can get along with
the least amount of meat is the one who
insists on having the gratuitous liver.
A negro, after gazintr a t some Chinese,
shook hie head and solemnly said: “If
de white folks be so dark as datout dar,
1 wonder what’s de color ob de black
folks?’
The most interesting letter in the al
phabet that we could ever appreciate ip
a kissing B.—Yes, and as we have safe
before, it is the sweetest How can we
letter B?
Massachusetts deacons go out on
Sunday morning in spring in search of
the dainty and coy little trailing ar
butus and take home a handkerchief
full of brook trout.
A Michigan girl has been arrested
for carrying a levolver. That is right.
No female should be allowed to wear
bangs in her hip pocket.— Philadelphia
Chronicle.
Few barbers shave their own faces.
This is explained by the perfectly rea
sonable fact that no barber is foolish
enough to make himself the voluntary
victim of his own stories.
It is estimated that there are four
million unmarried women in this coun
try. Every one of them looks under
the bed previous to retiring, however,
and hopes to find a man some time.
A man may ninsh the stave and things
And black n fond wife’s eye;
And she may pound him with a chib,
But true love cannot die.
The New England Farmer inquires.
“What cows should farmers keep?”
Fubbs suggested that they should keep
their own, as a serious inconvenience
often arises from a propensity to keep
those belonging to other folks.
“ Ice is ice, this year,” exclaimsan
exchange. We make a note of the fact
for fear that our readers may have
formed the impression that it was mo
lasses candy, or hash, or even baked
beans. It is best not to let this com
munity grow up in darkness.
Man’s lot is not a happy one. No
sooner is he free from his mother's
apron strings and slipper than he be
comes the slave of some tyrant in pink
and white and marries. His wife then
bosses him until a baby comes along,
and then the baby bosses the whole
family.
A contemporary contains a long
article entitled “ The Effect of Smoking
on Boys.” It is not right to smoke on
boys. It imparts a disagreeable odor to
their clothes, and when they go home
thev arouse suspicions in the minds of
their mothers which are difficult to
eradicate.
“ How many glasses did the Herr
Doctor drink, Gretchen? ’ asked a Ger
man landlord of his daughter, on his
guest leaving the cellar. “ Eight,
father,” replied the girl. “ The raiA
cal 1” exclaimed the irate host. “ Why,
he gave me strict orders never to drink
more than three!”
Two young men were passing a farm
house where a farmer was trying to
harness a mule. “ Won’t he draw?’
said one of the horsemen. “Os course
be will,” said the farmer. “He draws
the attention of every fool that passes.’
“Mother” said the seven-year-old son
of an energetic mother not a thousand
miles from Rochester, the other day, as
he watched her vigorous manipuiati' n
of a kitchen utensil, “ you ought not to
go to heaven.”
“Why not, my son?’ in a surpriz'd
manner.
“Because you would wear out vour
harp before eternity was half over,” was
the quiet reply of the young philose
pher. ___________
A Fiitnl Italian Disease.
An Italian correspondent of the (xinret
calls attention td an insidious and
frightful fatal disease called.“pellaga,”
of which no les# than 97,100 Italians
are said to be dying, at the present
time, the number of victims represent
ing 3 62 per 1,000 of the whole popula
tion, and in the infected departments,
especially in Ixxnbardy and Venice, a
higher proportion than ever occurred
during tne worst cholera epidemic iu
France. The disease usually runs a
slow course, like consumption. Its
cause is bdieved tube the exclusive
consumption of piaize in a deteriorated
condition and the unhealthy state of
the hovels in which the rustics live.