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]\i >rtK
PUBLISHED EVERY THUR-DA
—AT-
BELLTON, Gr A.
by JOHN BEATS.
Terms— s1.00 per anaum 50 cents for eix
months; 25 cents forthree months.
‘Bwaj from Be 11 ton aie requested
to send their names with such amounts of
money they can pare, r rom 2cc. »o $1
O I Him ME NOT IM THE DESERT
WASTE.
BY ROBERT F. DOTT.
(The following line* are Intended aa a companion
to Mlm M. Txniisa Chitwood’s beautiful gem of a
jofflDj entitled “O! Bury Me Not in the Deep, Deep
O! bury me not in the desert far
From the dark blue rolling sea.
Where an arid waste beneath some star
Expands itself to me;
For no growth ie there, no life is thera,
No rosea to bloom in prime.
No birds are there, no life is there.
And no beautiful summer of time!
OI bury me not in the desert sad,
Far off from the sunny lea,
Where no bird-songs e\er make ua glad,
As wafted from some tree.
For sands are there, and death la there,
And the piercing sun- rays heat
The heads of those who travel there.
In rounding up their beat
*0 I bury me not in the arid waste.
Where the sun-lit sands do burn,
For they haunt us not with Pleasure's taste,
Nor the manna that we earn.
For bonns are there, and skulls are there,
And devastation reigns;
No hut is there, no water there,
But a thousand human pains.
O’ bury me not in the scorching sand,
Where all la crisp and dry ;
Where no flowers blnnm upon the land.
Beneath a bright hued sky!
For there is no human habitat,
No l>eautiea living there;
No living emblems of the good—
No blessing* great and rare.
OI bury me not in the soilless land,
Where no vegetation grows;
•O1 bury me not in the rolling sand,
W here no flower e\er blows.
Tor no worshipers will ever come
To decorate my grave,
Though hero in this world I be,
They will soon forget the brave.
Oh 1 bury me not in the barren wope,
Where no woodbine’s tendrils chng;
For no friends would come their eyes to ops
On the grate of a woodland king !
For I hate monotony in life
And I know I would in death.
Ro bury me In some woodland spot,
Where nature drawn a breath.
11MTOX, in
THE GHOST’S SUMMONS.,
A Physician's Slory.
If. was in the early days of my profes
sional career, when patients were scarce
and fees scarcer, and, though I was in
the act of sitting down to my ehop, and
had promised myself a glass of steaming
punch afterward, in honor of lhe Christ
mas season, I hurried instantly into my
surgery. I entered briskly, but no soon
er aid I catch sight of the figure stand
ing against the counter than I started
back, with a strange feeling of horror
which for the life of me I could not com
prehend.
Never shall I forget the ghastliness of
that face—the white horror stamjied up
on every feature—the agony which
seemed to sink the very eyes Isjneelh the
contracted brows; it was awful to me to
behold, accustomed as I was to scenes of
terror.
"You seek advice?” I began, with
some hesitation.
** No; I am not ill.”
“ You require then—”
“ Hushl” he interrupted, approaching
more nearly, and dropping his already
low murmur to a mere whisper. "I be
lieve yon are not rich. Would you be
willing to earn a thousand pounds ?”
A thousand pounds! His words seemed
to burn my very ears.
“ I should be thankful if I could do so
Honestly,” I replied, with dignity.
“ What is the service required of me?”
A peculiar look of intense horror
passed over the white face before me ;
but the blue-black lips answered firmly,
“ To attend a death-bed.*”
•* A thousand pounds to attend a
death-bed ! Where am I to go, then ?
Whose is it?”
"Mine.”
The voice in which this was said
sounded so hollow and distant that in
voluntarily I shrank hack. “Yours !
What nonsense ! Ycu are not a dying
man. You are pale, but you appear per
fectly healthy. You—”
“.Hush!” he interrupted; “I know
all this. You cannot be more convinced
of my physical health than I am my
self ; vet I know that before the clock
tolls the first hour after midnight I shall
be a dead man.”
" But—"
He shuddered slightly ; but stretch
ing out his band commandingly motioned
me to bo silent. “I am but too well in
formed of what I affirm,” he said quietly;
“ 1 have received a mysterious summons
from the dead. No mortal aid can avail
me. lam as doomed as the wretch on
whom the Judge has passed sentence. I
do not come either to seek your advice
oi to argue the matter with you, but
simply to buy your services. I offer you
£I,OOO to pass’ the night in my chamber,
and witness the scene which takes place.
The sum may appear toyou extravagant.
But I have no further need to count the
cost of my gratification ; and the spec
tacle you will have to witness is no com
mon sight of horror.”
The words, strange as they were, were
spoken calmly enough; but as the last
sentence dropped slowly from the livid
lips an expression of such wild hon-or
again passed over the stranger’s face
that, in spite of the immense fee, I hesi
tated to answei.
“Yon fear to trust the promise of a
dead man ! See here, and be convinced,”
he exclaimed, eagerly; and the next in
stant, on the counter between us, lay a
parchment document, and, following
the indication of that white, muscular
hand, I read the words: ‘And to Mr.
Frederick Bead, of 14 High street, Alton,
I bequeath the sum of £I,OOO for certain
service rendered to me.”
“ I have had that will drawn up within
the last twenty-four hours, T ned
it an hour ago, in the preser ‘ -«V
petent witnesses. I am pr <
see. Now, do you accept in.
not ?”
Mv answer was to walk am
room and take down my hat, ar
lock the door of the surgery <x
pa ting ’rith the house,
The North Georgian.
vol. in.
• » • • »
It was a dark, icy-cold night, and
somehow the courage and determination
which the sight of my own name in con
nection with £I,OOO had given me flagged
considerably as I found myself hurried
along through the silent darkness by a
man whose death-bod I was about to at
tend. He was grimly silent; but, as his
hand touched mine, in spite of the frost,
it felt like a burning coal.
On we went —tramp, tramp, through
the snow—on, on, till even I grew
weary, and at length on my appalled ear
struck the chimes of a church-clock,
while close at hand I distinguished the
snow hillocks of a churchyard. Heav
ens ! was this awful scene of which 1
was to be the witness to take place verit
ably among the dead ?
“Eleven, ’ groaned the doomed man.
“ Gracious God ! but two hours more,
and that ghostly messenger will bring
the summons. Come, come; for mer
cy’s sake let us hasten. ”
There was but a short road separating
us now from a wall which surrounded a
large mansion, and along this we hast
ened until we reached a small door.
Passing through this, in a few minutes
we were stealthily ascending the private
staircase to a splendidly-furnished apart
ment, which left no doubt of the wealth
of its owner. All was intensely silent,
however, through the house; and about
this room in particular there was a still
ness that, as I gazed around, struck me
almost ghastly.
My companion glanced at the clock on
the mantel-shelf and sank into a large
chair by the side of the fire with a shud
der. “ Only an hour and a half longer,”
he muttered. “Great Heaven! I
thought I had more fortitude. This hor
ror unmans me.” Then, in a fiercer
tone, and elutching my arm, he added,
“ Ha! you mock me—you think me
mail; but wait till you see—wait till you
see I”
I put my hand on his wrist; for there
was now a fever in his sunken eyes
which checked the superstitious chill
which had been gathering over me, and
made me hope that, after all, my first
suspicion was correct, and that my pa
tient was but the victim of some fearful
hallucination.
“ Mock you!” I answered soothingly.
“Far from it; I sympathize Intensely
with you, and would do much to aid you.
You require sleep. Lie down, and leave
me to watch.”
He groaned, but rose, and began
throwing off his clothes, and, watching
my opportunity, I slipped a sleeping
powder, which I had managed to put in
my pocket before leaving the surgery,
into the tumbler of claret that stood be
side him.
The more I saw, the moYe I felt con
vinced that it was the nervous system of
my patient which required my atten
tion; and it was with sincere satisfac
tion I saw him drink the wine, and
then stretch himself on the luxurious
bed.
“ Ha,” thought I as the clock struck
12, and, instead of a groan, the deep
breathing of the sleeper sounded through
the room; “ you won’t receive any sum
mons to-niglit, and I may make myself
comfortable. ”
Noiselessly, therefore, I replenished
the fire, poured myself out a glass of
wine, and, drawing the curtain so that
the firelight should not disturb the
sleeper, I put myself in a position to
follow his example.
How long I slept I know not, but sud
denly I aroused with a start and as
ghostly a thrill of horror as I ever re
membered to have felt in my life. A'ome
thing—what, I knew not—seemed near ;
something nameless, but unutterably
awful.
I gazed round. The fire emitted a
faint blue glow, just sufficient to enable
me to see that the room was exactly the
same as when I fell asleep, but that the
long hand of the clock wanted but five
minutes of the mysterious hour which
was to be the death-moment of the
“ summoned” man!
Was there anything in it, then ?—any
truth in the strange story he had told ?
The silence was intense. I could not
even hear a breath from the bed ; and I
was about to rise and approach, when
again that awful horror seized me, and
at the same moment my eye fell upon
the mirror opposite the door, and I
saw—
Great Heaven! that awful Shape—
that ghastly mockery of what had been
humanity—was it really a messenger
from the buried, quiet dead ? It stood
there invisible death-clothes; but the
awful face was ghastly with corruption,
and the sunken eyes gleamed forth a
green, glassy glare, which seemed a ver
itable blast’ from the infernal fires be
low. To move or utter a sound in that
hideous presence was impossible ; and
like a statue I sat and saw that horrid
Shape move slowly toward the bed.
What was the awful scene enacted
there I know not. I heard nothing, ex
cept a low, stifled, agonized groan, and I
saw the shadow of that ghastly messen
ger bending over the bed. Whether it
was some dreadful but wordless sentence
its breathless lips conveyed, as it stood
there, I know not; but for an instant
the shadow of a claw-like hand, from
which the third finger was missing, ap
peared extended over the diximed man’s
head; and then, as the clock struck one
clear silvery stroke, it fell, and a wild
shriek rang through the room—a death
shriek.
I am not given to fainting, but I cer
tainly confess that the next ten minutes
of ft existence was a cold blank; and,
-■ 1 « j 1 did manage to stagger to my
I gazed round, vainly endeavoring
-derstand the chilly horror which
ssessed me.
,k God! the room was rid of that
presence —I saw that; so, gulping
some wine, I lighted a wax-taper
BELLTON, BANKS COUNTY, GA. JULY 15, 1880.
and staggered toward the bed. Ah,
hew I prayed that, after all, I might
have been dreaming, and that my own
excited imagination had but conjured
up some hideous memory of the dissect
ing-room 1
But one glance was sufficient to answer
that No! The summons had indeed
been given and answered.
I flashed the light over the dead face,
swollen, convulsed still with the death
agony; but suddenly I shrank back.
Even as I gazed, the expression of the
face seemed to change ; the blackness
faded info a deathly whiteness ; the con
vulsed features relaxed, and, even as if
the victim of that dread apparition still
lived, a sad, solemn smile stole over the
pale lips.
I was intensely horrified, but still I
retained sufficient self-consciousness to
be struck professionally by such a
phenomenon. Surely there was some
thing more than supernatural agency in
all this ?
Again I scrutinized the dead face, and
even the throat and chest; but, with the
exception of a tiny pimple on one temple
oeneath a cluster of hair, not a mark ap
peared. To look at the corpse, one
would have believed that this man had,
indeed, died by the visitation of God,
peacefully, while sleeping. How long I
stood there I know not, but time enough
to gather my scattered senses and to re
flect that, all tilings considered my own
position would bo very unpleasant if I
was found thus unexpectedly in the room
of the mysterioiisly-dead man So, noise
lessly ns 1 could, I made my way out of
Qi/ Ix’ii-e. No one met me on the pri
vate staircase; the little door opening
into the road was easily unfastened; and
thankful, indeed, was I to feel again
the fresh wintry air as I hurried along
the road by the church-yard.
♦ » » » ♦
There was a magnificent funeral soon
in that church ; and it was said that the
young widow of the buried man was in
consolable ; and then rumors got abroad
of a horrible apparition which had been
seen on the night of the death ; and it
was whispered the young widow was
terrified, and insisted upon leaving her
splendid mansion.
1 was too mystified with the whole
affair to risk my reputation by saying
what I knew, and I should have allowed
my shore in it to remain forever buried
in oblivion had I not suddenly heard
that the widow, objecting to many of the
legacies in the last will of her husband,
intended to dispute it on the score of in
sanity, and then gradually arose the ru
mor of his belief in having received a
mysterious summons.
On this I went to the lawyer, and sent
a message to the lady, that, as the last
person who had attended her husband,
I undertook to prove his sanity, and I
besought her to grant me an interview,
in winch I would relate as strange and
horrible a story as her ear had ever
beard.
The same evening I received an invi
tation to go to the mansion. 1 was ush
ered immediately into a splendid room,
and there, standing before the fire, was
the most dazzlingly-beautiful young
creature I had ever aeon. She was very
small, but exquisitely made; had it not
been for the dignity of her carriage, I
should have believed her a mere child.
With a stately bow she advanced, but
did not speak.
“ I come on a strange and painful er
rand,” I began, and then I started, for I
happened to glance full into her eyes,
and from them down to the small right
hand grasping the chair. The wedding
ring was on that hand 1
“I conclude you are the Mr. Read
who requested permission to tell me
some absurd ghost-story, and whom my
late husband mentions here.” And as
she spoke she stretched out her
left hand toward something--but
what 1 knew not, for my eyes were fixed
on that hand.
Horror J White and delicate it might
be, but it was shaped like a claw, and
the tliird finger was missing!
One sentence was enough after that.
“Madame, all I can tell you is that the
ghost who summoned your husband was
marked by a singular deformity. The
tliird finger of the left hand was miss
ing,” I said, sternly; and the next in
stant I had left that beautiful, sinful
presence.
» • • • *
That will was never disputed. The
next morning, too, I received a check
for £I,OOO, and the next news I heard of
the widow was that she had herself Been
that awful apparition, and had left the
mansion immediately.
The Directory Man.
A writer in Chicago says: “I meet
the directory canvasser in my rounds,
and occasionally pluck a few interesting
secrets out of him. A weary, wayworn
wanderer he is at best, but this year he
is full of unspeakable trouble. ‘lt’s
tough work,’ he remarked swabbing the
perspiration from his brow, ‘tough,
tough work to get people to give up. ’
‘Give up what?’ I said. ‘Give up any
thing,’ said he; ‘why, do you know there
are whole row s of good families that try
in every way to dodge away from us, and
when they can’t dodge us they go to the
company and almost go down on their
knees to have their addresses left out. ’
‘What’s the object?’ quoth I. ‘Blest if I
know,’ said he, ‘but I can tell you I have
just been offered, right here on Ohio
street, by a lady, a $lO bill to keep her
husband’s address out of the directory.
Maybe the husband’s in debt, or they’re
afraid of their granger cousins swarming
in upon them at the conventions. Don’t
know, of course, all the reasons, but I
know it’s like drawing eye-teeth to get a
name out of ’em. They make me feel
like a personal tax man. I’ve got to fish
up neighbors all the time, and poke into
family secrete like a detective,’ ”
Ocean Currents In the Pacific.
It had long been an accepted theory
that a branch of the Gulf Stream or
warm current, which sets over from
Japan toward Alaska, was flowing north
ward through Behring Straits into the
Arctic Ocean. W. H. Dall, acting-as
sistant of United States Coast Survey,
in a recent report published by Congress,
finds that there is no such warm current
setting in that direction. The “Kuro-
according to thisauthority, is not
marked in its approach to the American
coast by sharply defined walls of water
temperature such as characterized the
Gulf stream of the Atlantic. It is not
at all like a river flowing in its bed
There is a general drift -which is reversi
ble and intermittent when opposed by
storms, and which shades off from a
temperature of 65 degrees. That part of
th- viro-si-wo having a temperature of
55 degrees approaches the northwest
coast in the vicinity of Vancouvei Island.
There is a deflected arm of this current
known as the Alaska current, which has
a temperature varying from 50 degrees
to 55 degrees. The shoal waters of the
Behring Strait on the eastern side appear
to be warmer than on the western side
But Captain Dall says that there is no’
pr<x>f that there is a warm current flow
ing up through the strait. The whole
Pacific roast, however, from Unmak in
Alaska to Vancouver is bathed by a sea
with a summer teinjxirature varying from
48 degiees to 55 degrees. The winter
along a coast of this temperature never
can be soveie. There is a great precipi
tation of moisture, but only a moderate
degree of cold until tho interior of the
country is reached Southeastern Alaska
has been described by explorers as having
more than a tolerable climate. For a
considerable part of the year it is pleas
ant and altogether agreeable It is essen
tially that of Vancouver The exhala
tions of moist air are drifted inland. Veg
etation is rank, and a great deal of the
land ean be made very productive. It is
not to be supposed that the influence of
the Kuro-si-wo is lost after passing Van
couver iu a southerly direction. It no
doubt has some influence all along the
Oregon coast, and greatly aids in tho
precipitation of moisture in Washington
Territory and Northern Oregon. In Cali
fornia we get only fogs as a dividend,
but they greatly aid vegetation Capt.
Dall does not make his demonstiution of
a non-flowing warm current in Behring
Strait very clear, and tho fact that the
water is warmer on one side than on the
other would still leave lotne ;iound for
tho old hypothesis. >S'an Francisco
A Historic Bed.
In the corporation records of Leicester,
there is still preserved a story curiously
illustrative of tho dt rkness and pre
caution of Richard’s character. Among
his camp baggage it was his custom to
carry a cumbersome wooden bedstead,
which he averred was the only couch ho
could sleep on; but in which he contrived
to have a secret receptacle for treasure,
so that it was concealed under a weight
of timber. The owner of the house after
ward discovering the hoard, became
suddenly rich without any visible cause.
He bought, land, and at length became
Mayor of Leicester.
Many years afterward hit widow, who
had been left in great affluence, was
assassinated by her servant, who had been
privy to the affair; and at the trial of this
culprit and her accomplices the whole
transaction came to light. Concerning
this bed, a public print of 1830, states
that, ‘‘about half a century since, the
r< diet was purchased by a furniture-broker
of Leicester, who slept in it for many
years, and showed it to the curious.” It
continues in as good condition apparently
as when used by King Richard, being
formed of oak, and having a high polish.
The daughter of the broker having
married one Babbington, of Ruthley,
near Leicester, the bedstead was removed
to Babbington’s house, where it is still
preserved.
Dainty Eaters.
A menagerie elephant eats about one
hundred pounds of the best timothy hay
cvcrytwenty-fourhours. Giraffes, camels,
zebras and deer are also hay-eating ani
mals, but are not so particular in reference
to its quality as tho elephant. Sea-lions
have to be fed on fish, usually fresh and
salt mackerel, each animal taking twelve
to fifteen each meal twice a day, and con
suming altogether one hundred pounds
of fish daily. Next in point of delicate
eaters come the polar bears, whose regular
diet is bread soaked in milk, with fish now
and then for a change. The black bears
are also given bread, one hundred pounds
Ix-.ing used daily. Vegetables of almost
every sort are fed liberally to the different
animals cabbage, potatoes, carrota,
onions and turnips. The elephants are
great cabbage eaters, in addition to their
standard diet, hay. The giraffes, singular
ly enough, are great onion eaters, while
the deer and goats, and animals of the
cow species, eat carrota and turnips and
potatoes. Bran and oats and corn are
also liberally distributed—mostly once or
twice a week—among the hay eating
animals. But the orang-outang is tho
most dainty feeder of all, living on bread
i and honey, beef and potatoes —a diet
alarmingly like that of humanity.
~ ~
An Illinois gentleman counts among
his treasures, and very rightly, too ? a
quaint old ambrotype of Abraham Lin
coln. It shows a gaunt and awkward
man of 37 seated hi an old rush-bottomed
j chair, and dressed in well-worn dark
! clothes, with an old-fashioned stock, and
his uncombed hair standing out in all
; directions.
Seed about which there is any doubt
should be tested before planting to as
certain whether it will grow. Badly
kept seed often causes disappointment
from its failure |o germinate,
NO. 28.
The Chinese Cuisine.
The shark’s fin is a delicacy which is
rarely omitted from the menu of a Chi
nese feast. It is one of the “ great clas
sic dishes” forming the pieces de re
sistance of an official banquet, and is
eaten either in the form of a joint, gar
nished with crabs, or served up in small
pieces in cups placed before each guest.
The consumption of rats, though it
seems to be somewhat on the decline, is
tho cause of a very important traffic in
tho principal towns of certain districts,
and especially in a street in Canton
called Hing-Loung-Kai. Here these
animals may bo seen in enormous multi
tudes hanging up in the shop windows
among chickens and ducks and geese.
They are for the most part dried and
salted, and when in that state are es
teemed a sovereign recipe for those
whose hair is getting thin.
Beside the dishes peculiar to the Ce
lestials alone, there are a variety of dif
ferences in their mode of eating and
cooking food unknown to our cuisine,
Hams, for instance, are kept for a year,
or even two years, buried in heaps of
sawdust, which imparts to them a taste
of wood much appreciated by the gour
mets. Broad beans are fermented, and,
after being mixed with salt, form a very
favorite sauce eaten with all sorts of
viands. Finally, tho habit of eating
“ rotten eggs,” which sounds so strange
to European ears, is explained by show
ing that the so-caillod rotten egg is only
a duck’s egg preserved for a long time in
an air-tigtit envelope made of ashes,
chalk, tea-leaves, and a number of other
strange substances, until the yelk turns
first to a green color, and then to a fine
block, when it is considered fit to be
eaten.
Floating Island.
Among the many natural curiosities
of Tuolumne county it is not generally
known that there is a “ floating island."
Up in the “Siskiyous,” lying like a
pearl in the great mountain chain, is
Squaw lake, a beautiful sheet of water,
now utilized by a mining compiuiy as a
reservoir. For many years the lake has
been a favorite and delightful resort for
tisliing parties, and contained nearly in
its center an island, comprising about
an acre of ground, covered with luxu
riant grass and a growth of willow and
alder. It was never dreamed that the
pretty little island was not terra firms,
but when the bulkhead across the outlet
of the lake dammed up its waters the
island rose slowly until it had been ele
vated fully sixteen b:vc its original
level. Il would be question for the
naturalist rather than the geologist to
determine tbe age of this floating island,
as it is evidently made ip entirely of
decayed vegetation. Perhaps at some
remote period the roots of a tree, uptorn
by the mountain storm, drifting out in
the lake, formed :hn nucleus from which
the island has grown hut it seems sin
gular that it should Have remained an
chored and unchangeable in its position.
The locality i much frequented by
pleasure-seekers, who will hereafter no
tice the increased elevation.—Jackson
ville. I Ore.) Sentinel.
How to Write for the Papers.
The Boston Post, hits the nail on the
head when it says : Communications
should be brief, and there are several
reasons for this. In the first place,
newspaper space is valuable. The mo
dern newspaper is never troubled with
tho old-tune complaint of needing
“something to fill up.” The editor’s
scalpel is constantly reeking from the
slaughter of live news matter and inter
esting miscellany. Short communica
tions am much more likely to find realt
ors than long ones are, and unless they
ore to be read it is much better not to
publish them. More contributions can
lie represented where the articles are
short than when they are long, and one
man has as strong a claim upon the col
umns as another, provided he furnishes
as interesting matter. A short article is
usually more pithy and pointed than a
long one. A subject should have many
ramifications to demand more than half
a column in a newspaper, while all that
can be saved even from that limit up to
a certain point is apt to be an improve
ment. That prince of journalists, the
late Samuel Bowles, once apologized for
a long editorial, and gave as his excuse
lack of time to write a short one. He
expressed an important truth in his
usual epigrammatic way
Andrew Jackson and His Old Home.
Though Duke grew feeble and almost
helpless in his latter day, he was not
forgotten or suffered to be neglected. I
have, in a walk with the General, more
than once gone to the lot which con
tained this living wreck of martial valor,
and while the old creature would reel
and stagger, looking wistfully at his
master, the General would sighingly
say: “Ah, poor fellow, we have seen
hard times together; we must shortly
separate; your days of suffering and toil
are well-nigh ended.”
On one occasion, to try the General
on a tender point, tbe writer of this ar
ticle suggested the idea of putting an
end to the sufferings of Duke by hav
ing him shot or knocked on the head.
“No,” saidhis generous master, “ never,
never; let him live, and while there is
anything to go upon on this farm Duke
shall have a part.”— Rev. IL M. Cryer's
Rem iniscences.
She had a pretty diploma tied with
pink ribbon, from one of our best young
ladies’ colleges. In conversation with a
daring and courageous young man, after
he had detailed the dangers and de
lights of riding on a locomotive, she
completely upset his opinion of inde
pendent education of the sexes by in
quiring : “How do they steer locomo
tives, anyhow?”
North
Publishkd Every Thursday at
BELLTON. GEORGIA
RATES OF SUBSCRIPTION.
Oue year (52 number*), $1.00; six months
( 6 numbers) 50 cents; three months (13
numbers) 25 cents.
Office in the Smith building, east of the
itepot.
PASSING SMILES.
Letters must be wicked things. They
are always indicted.
Motto for the milkman—to the pure
all things are pure.
“What is your favorite gem, Sarah?”
Sarah replied demurely, “Agate.” Melo
drama.
A couple of soldiers of the Salvation
Army approached a Philadelphia broker
recently and asked: “How is it with
you, my friend ?” “lam short on Read
ing,” replied the broker.
Wealthy Cad—“ Look here—bring
me some dinner, old man. The best
you’ve got.” Restaurateur—“ Riner a
la Carte, M’sieuf" Cad—“ Cart he
hanged! Dinner a ler carriage!"
They say, “ ’tis darkest just before the
dawn,” but the man who got up at mid
night to hunt for a lone match on the
corner of the wash-stand can’t see how it
could be any darker.
“I put outside my window a large box
filled with mold, and sowed it with seed.
What do you think came up ?” ‘ ‘ Wheat,
barley or oats ?” “ No—a policeman, who
ordered me to remove it.”
The discouraged collector again pre
sented that little matter. “ Well,” said
his friend, “you are round again?”
“Yes,” says the fellow, with the account
in his hand, “but I want to get square.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” said an Irish
manager to his audience of three, “as
there is nobody here, I’ll dismiss you ail.
The performance of this night will not be
performed, but will be repeated to-mor
row evening. ”
A little boy entered the fish market
the other day, and seeing for the first
time a pile of lobsters lying on the coun
ter, looked at them intently for some time,
when he exclaimed: “Them’s the big
gest grasshoppers I ever seen.”
What's manna, metheglin, ambrosia and rich
To Olp O’M argarine?
In odor so fragrant, in color so rich
Ol * O’Margariue?
Thou’rf guiltle s of pastures and milk-maids* nidllm.
Thou’rt guiltless of churning and dairy-maids'
wiles.
Thou’rt guilty of naught but inscrutables Um,
010 O’Margarine.
“ If this coffee is gotten up in a board
ing house style again to-morrow morning,
I tlxink I shall have good grounds for a
divorce.” said a cross husband the other
morning. “I don’t want any of your
saucer,” retorted his wife, “and what
I’ve sediment.”
A friend who* lately called on the
Premier found him quiet, but not without
a gleam of his peculiar saturnifie humor.
“It ri a
people keep ending tew u.-nse, and
asking after me—as though I had had a
childf’
Mr. Maylum remarked to Erskine that
his physician had forbidden his bathing
at Brighton. “You are malum pro
hibitum" said Erskine. “But,” con
tinued Mr. May him, “he says my wife
may bathe.” “All,” replied Erskine,
“ she is malum in se."
“Ten dimes make one dollar,” said
the schoolmaster. ‘ Now go on, sir.
Ten dollars make one—what?” “They
make one mighty glad these times,” re
plied the boy; and the teacher, who
hadn’t got his last month’s salary yet,
concluded that the boy was about right.
The Chicago Inter-Ocean having come
to the conclusion tha. “a full-grown man
who throws banana peels upon the side
walk is no Christian,” the Cincinnati
Commercial anxiously inquires “Well,
what do you think of the banana peel
that throws a full-grown man upon the
sidewalk ?”
While Bishop Ames was presiding over
a conference in the west a member began
a tirade against universities, education,
etc., thanking God that he had never
lieen corrupted by contact with a college.
After proceeding bus for a few minutes
the bishop interrupted him with the
question: “Do I understand that the
brother thanks God for his ignorance ?”
“Well, yes,” was the answer; “you
can put it in that way if you want to.”
“Well, all I have to say,” said the bishop,
in his sweet, musical tones, “is, that the
brother has a great deal to thank God
for.”
A coin is in itself a history. There
was once a lost city which owes its place
to a coin. For over a thousand years no
one knew where Pandosia was. History
told us that at Pandosia King Pyrrhus
collected those forces with which he
overrun Italy, and that he established a
mint there; but no one could put their
finger on Pandosia. Eight years ago a
coin came under the sharp eyes of a
numismatist. There were the letters
Pandosia inscribed on it, but, what was
lietter, there was an emblem, indicative
of a well-known river, the Crathis. Then
everything was revealed with the same
certainty as if the piece of money hud
been an atlas, and Pandosia, the mythi
cal city, was at once given its proper
position in Bruttiniu. Now, a coin may
lie valuable for artistic merit, but when
it elucidates a doubtful point in history
or geography its worth is very much en
hanced. This silver coin, which did not
weigh more than a quarter of a dollar,
liecauso it cleared up the mystery of
Pandosia, was worth to the British
Museum SI,OOO, the price they paid
for it
Ax exchange says : “Do not throw
away your ribbons because they are
soiled. Wash them in suds made of fine
toilet soap and cold water, squeezing
them quickly through. Then iron them
between two cloths with an iron not too
hot”
“ Men should not allow their wives to
iplit wood,” says a contemporary. This
is rather inconsiderate. How can a num
refuse when his wife comes up with tears
in her eyes and says, “Now do, dear,
let me go down cellar and split wool sos
an hour to get up an appetite,”
‘ fa ‘ * .4*