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NORTH GEORGIA TIM t n I m j
Vol. VIII. New Series.
Giving. t
There Is no life, however low
, Or humble in its birth,
That may not, from its store, bestoy
Some brightness o’er the earth. ’
Each little blooming wayside flower
Tho’ lacking beauty rare,
Freely offers all its dower *
To make the summer fair.
The tiniest star, tho’ far away,
Doth send an offering down,
And helps by its tremulous, golden ray
The brow of night to crown.
fhe river hastening to the sea,' v ~
With all its gathered treasured,
Yields up its offerings, full and free;
.Their worth it never measures.
Thus Nature proves in many a way
Would The noblest ye receive! rul es^.Iving, Then, by day
ay
Increase thy store by gl.'hg.
—[Helen G. Roberts in Boston Jourt ah
A SOLITARY PASSENGER
j. The 10.50 train from White Peak
'was lata that snowy February night. v It
never was what one would call a pain¬
fully prompt drain, but tonight it was
fully fifty minutes behind its usual time
and tho telegraph operator had nearly
failon asleep behind tho pano of ground
glass over which the word “Tickets”
was inscribed in a half circle and tow¬
ard which a most inartistically fore¬
shortened hand was depicted as extend¬
ing a gilt finger for tho enlightenment
of the general public.
Not that the Big Pine telegraph was
ordinarily open at-so late an hour as this.
Seven o’clock was tho usual period of
closing. Nor had Eunico Barlow any
cfficial right to tho tall wooden stool
behind tho semicircular gilt legend re¬
ferring to “Tickets.” In a manner she
had had greatness thrust upon her. Old
'Mr, Petty clove, who represented the
majesty of the railway company in this
particular eSrly'dusk spot, had gone home ia tho
with a raging facial neural
id iaxminmon humanity Eunice
jbot have refused temporarily to
e his position with i(s duties.
m silfthco was broken hv
WWlrj^oCSa,hiko^fBe throbbing of
soine small silver heart. Eunice jumped
up, instinctively, obedient to tho call of
her autocrat, the telegraph.
“A message 1” she thought “And
at this time of tho night. Well, won
ders will never coase.”
A message it was: to Peter Petty¬
clove, station agent at Big Pine sta¬
tion.
Defalcation in Home Bank. Detain pas¬
senger on train No. 21. Small, dark, wear¬
ing fur-trimmed coat- Keep in custody un
til furtber notice. H. Y. Carter,
Chief of Police at White Peak.
Almost before sho had deciphered
tifese words, Eunico Barlow telegraphed
back “All right;' 1 and onco more tho
small silver heart left off its tumultuous
throbbings. And not until then did thn
telegraph operator roalize what a very
peculiar position sho was in. All alono
at Big Pino Station, and dficially au¬
thorized, in right of her substitution, to
arrest a bank defalcator on tho spot 1
Even while sho pondorod on this un¬
expected state of things there was a cu
rious thrill and tromble of tho floor
beams under her feet; a shrill steam
whistle rising above the sustained roar
of tho tempest. Tho 10.50, rfficially
known as No. 21, was swinging around
tho curve.
In an instan-t Eunice Barlow was out
in tho deep snow of the rudo board plat¬
form with tho lighted lantern in her
hand. Tho conductor of the train was
not at all surprised to see her there. Ho
knew that Peter Pettyclove was old and
feeble, and a spirited young female tel¬
egraph operator is rather at her full
value in the Big Pine section. Sho triod
to signal to him that sho wanted to
speak to him, but tho blinding snow
drove its shroudliko sheets between
them. He smiled and nodded to her in
the aggravating way that men havo
when they are particularly obtuse,
shouted some incomprehensible com¬
ment on tho weather, helped to loosen
the brakes, and was an eighth of a mile
up the track before Eunice’s lantern
tight fell on a single black figure, its
hat pulled over its eyes, its form closely
buttoned up in—a fur-trimmed over¬
coat.
“Is this the station?'’ said a low, well
modulatod voice, which gave Miss Bar
low the idea that the unhappy gentle¬
man of justice wa3 a gentleman born
and bred. “Where aro tho porters?
Upon my word” (looking around after
a bewildered fashion) “I’m afraid
they’vo forgotton to put off my luggage.
Isn’t there a firo somowhera here¬
abouts?"
Eunice Barlow looked solemnly at
him as she opened tho door into the
bright, chcorlully lighted littlo station.
Yes, tho telegraphed description had
been correct. Ho was small and dark,
SPRING PLACE. GEORGIA, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 11, 1888.
and, poor fellow, he looked as if ho was
half frozen to death. But now aroso
tho perplexing question, how was she
to “detain him?"
*’Ycu aro" mistaken, sir,” she said, in
answer to his questions. “There aro no
porters hero. There is no hotel nearer
than the Pine Barrens, four miles away.
The agent is detained at home by sick¬
ness, and I am tho. telegraph operator,
on duty in his absonco."
“dan you tell me, ’’ pleaded tho soli
tary passenger, “where I can get a
night’s lodging and something to eat?
It is six hours sinco wo left the supper
station, and I am just recovering from
a siege of malarial fever. Surely there
must bo some one around hero who
could act as my guide."
“There is no ono here but me,’’ said
Mis3 Barlow, locking the cash draw and
preparing to extinguish tho ono reflector
lamp that glowed above tho new ar¬
rival's head. But if you choose to go
homo with me I daro say my mother
will givo you somo supper and a bed.
Our house is tho nearest to this place.
And tomorrow"—with a somewhat sig¬
nificant pauso—V‘you can bogie a now
career."
“I’m awfully obliged to you,” said
tho gentleman, jumping up with
alacrity. But how many, careers per
week do theso Westerners count upon?
I’ve no objection, for my part, to tho
old one continued."
Miss Barlow's face remained inexora¬
bly grave. She considered it no part of
her duty to countenance flippancy like
this. She locked the station, and hung
the key on its hooked nail close within
tho latticed casement outside, where
winds could not hurl it away nor
storms disturb it, bofore she sail,
'quietly; “This way, please. The lan¬
tern will light you sufficiently if you
are a little careful; otherwise you will
find tho way rather steep and .narrow
down tho hill. You aro perhaps una¬
ware that a telegram describing your
personal appearauco has just como in
from the White Peak office?"
“A telegram 1 By jovo tjie whole
t:,io S 0U N then*" 1
110 s P oke q u 'ckly; there was genu
iao dls K Uit and dissatisfaction cx
pressed in every feature of his face.
“Yes,” responded the telegraph op
erntor, “tho whole thing is out Your
conjecture is quite correct'* 4»
‘ ‘Does—I bog your pardon, but this
is a matter of some importance to me—
doos any ono know it besides yourself?"
“No.”
“I may depond on you?4 with im¬
ploring emphasis.
“Yes, you may depend on me.”
“Thanks, awfully 1” declared the
stranger, with fervor. “You see, it
makes it very unpleasant to have those
things talked about.”
“So I should imagine.”
A brief silencs ensued. Eunice was
woidering how her strange companion
could speak so coolly of “the3o things.”
“Was ho utterly dead to all shame?’’
sho thought. The strange companion,
in thi meantime, was secretly marvel¬
ling at tho ease and lightness with
which this extraordinary girl stepped
out through the snowdrifts.
“A perfect Amazon,” ho said to him¬
self, “and a pretty one, too. Why
doesn’t sho keop talking? I like the
timbre of her voice; it's a regular con¬
tralto.”
“It seems to me,” observed the young
maD, after another interval of silence,
during which the crunching of their feet
in the snow and the persistent howling
of the wind was all that broke the spoil,
“(hat they put a great deal of responsi¬
bility on young women in this part of
the world.”
“A good deal of it is forced upon
them, and a good deal they assume
themselves,” said Eunice Barlow, com¬
posedly. “I am willing to admit that
I havo taken a heavy responsibility on
myself tonight. Understand,” added
Miss Barlow, “that if I take you home
tonight and shelter you, I must have
your promises-•’’
“The new career question again 1 I’m
blessed if I know what all this means,”
gasped tho solitary passenger.
“Equivocation is entirely useless,”
said Eunice, severely. “You know
perfectly well what I mean. I havo
given you a chanco for freedom; for
what i3 still better, fame and character.
Boo to it that this chance does not pass
unimproved."
“Mad l” muttered tho stranger to
himself; “very mad] Entirely a hope¬
less case, I should say. I wonder if
there really was a telegram, or if that is
merely part of her brain disorder? I
wonder if I’d better keep on with
nobody knows whither, or cut and run
for it, snowstorm and all?”
“You bavo basely absconded with
your employers’ money,” said Eunico,
with tho freezing sternness of idealized
justice; “in other words, you aia a
bank dofalcator.”
“Oh, come, now; won’t you givo a
fellow a chancer* uttered her compaa
iom “As the school books say ‘Strike,
but hear.’ I vo nobody s money bwt my
own, and none too much of that. 1
don’t know anything about your banks
nor their defalcators. I’vo beou only
two weeks in your country and I think
its the snowiest climate going. My
name is Ernest Tiusallon, and I was to
have beon met at the station by CoL
Copley of the 400th Cavalry.”
Eunico Barlow gave a little shriek of
amazoment. “Sir Ernest Tinsallonl'
she cried, “The Englishman who was
coming out here to hunt buffalo and
follow up the lias of the Pine river?
But you have alighted at the wrong
station; you should have stopped at
Pine Barracks, seven miles beyond
here. ”
“I heartl the conductor bawl out
something about pine of one sort or
another,” said tho young Britou. "I
was dead asleep, and didn't slop to
discriminate, and I scrambled off. So
I’ve mado a mistake, havo I? But all
tho same, it’s awfully good of you to
offer to conduct mo to a place of Christ¬
ian shelter.”
* ‘And I have made a mistake too,"
said Eunice with a gasp. “Just before '
your train came in there was a messago
wired to Big Pine station—a message
to detain a bank robber who was said
to be on tho train. I was all alone, but
I could havo locked him into tho ticket
offico perfectly well. We Western girls
aro prepared for any emergency” (with
some pride). “But I was sorry for you,
you looked so young and innocent; and
I determined to givo you one more
chance.”
“For a now career,” interrupted tho
stranger, with a gust of laughter.
“The key to tho puzzle! I see it all
now. Don’t you know, I was boginning
to think you must be a lunatic. And
how disagreeably near I came to being
locked up, after ail 1 And the bank
fellow, whoever ho is, seems to havo
got off scot free. Really, now, ifover*a
man had a genuine guardian angel, you
are one,” he .«ddod, as Eunice led tho
way into a pretty little sitting room, all
aglow with red carpet and curtains,
where a fire of logs burned on tho open
hearth and a cosy meal was spread on
■tho tablo.
Sir Ernest Tinsalloa slopt in tho spare
chamber that night, was called by star¬
light, and breakfasted at 6 o’clock tho
next morning with the telegraph oper¬
ator and her mothor, and afterward ac¬
companied her to the Big Pine station,
plunging through white masses of snow
drift and sliding, school-boy fashion,
across tho mirror-like surface of frozen
brooks. Mr. Pettyclove was there with
his face tied up in a spottodsilk pocket
handkerchief. There were also several
telegrams awaiting the hand of the op¬
erator. One was from the chief of
police at White Peak, stating—rather
late, perhaps—that tho bank defalcator
had at the eleventh hour and on the
very step, so to speak, of the train, sur¬
rendered himself to the local authorities.
Thero was another from Col. Colley of
the 400th Cavalry, inquiring if anything
had been heard at Big Pina station of
the missing English baronet who was
overdue at tho barracks.
“Only think,” said Miss Barlow, with
a little shiver, “if I had locked you up
in the ticket office all night, what would
Col. Copley have said?"
“That, under the circumstances, you
had done no more than your country
expected of you,” returned Sir Ernest.
“But, Isay, all this thing was awfully
plucky of you, Miss Barlow. I don’t
know of an English girl that would
have had the courago to go through
with it.”
“But I haven’t thanked you half
enough.” Hi stood holding both her
hands, his fresh English face all eager¬
ness.
“It is quite unnecessary to say any
more," observed Miss Barlow, quietly.
“Titero is the telegraph. I am wanted
at my post of duty now. Good by, Sir
Ernest. I wish you a very pleasant
journey.”
Sir Ernest Tinsallon went on his way
into tho blue, glittering cold of that
peerless winter morning, with tho pino
trees looking Hike Druids clad in ermino
robes, and tho plains all sheeted in level
pearls, and Eunice Barlow never saw
him more. No, ha did not coma back’
to woo and wod her, as the hero of, an
orthodox love talo should havo done.
He could not, being already engaged to
another young woman in England. But
ho sent a superb hampor of game to
Mrs. Barlow, in enro of tho telegraph
operator at Big Pino station; aud at
mtny an English dinner table afterward
he told tho story of his midnight adven¬
ture in the wild west.
MAKING GLUCOSE.
'
The Process of Extracting Honey
from Corn< I
Crystallized After a Labyrin¬
thine System of Filtering.
Tho process of making glucose will
bo best understood says -tho Chicago
Mail, by following the corn from tho
time it enters the factory until it runs
out at aspigot a clear, colorless liquid.
The shell corn is first soaked for seve¬
ral days in wator to soften tho hull and
pregjire it for the cracking process. Tho
softened corn is convoyed by elevators
to ono of tho higher stories of tho fac¬
tory and shovelled into largo hoppers,
from which it passo3 into mills that
merely crack the grains without reduc¬
ing them at onco to a fiao meal. Tho
cracked grain is then conducted* to a
large tank filled with rinsing water.
Tho hulls of the corn float at tho top
of the water, the germs sink to the bot¬
tom and tho portion of tho grain con¬
taining the starch, becoming gradually
reduced to flour by fiiction are hold in
solution in tho water.
By an yngenious procoss both tho
hulls and .e germs aro removed and
the flour j ft now hold in solution con¬
tains nothing but starch and gluten.
This liquid is then mado to flow over a
series of tables, representing several
acres in area, and tho difference in the
specific gravity of tho two substances
causes the gluton and starch to separate
without the use of chemicals.
? The gluten is of a goidon-y ellow color
and the starch snow white. By tho
•time tho gluton has been compfetoly
eliminated the starch assumes a plastic
form and is collector from tho separat¬
ing tables by wheel barrowfuls and
taken, to a drying room, whore it is pre¬
pared as tho starch of commerce or is
placed in a chemical apparatus to be
converted into glucose. The convor-.
yaion is effected by Submitting the starch
to the action of a minute percentage of
dilute sulphuric acid, which, without
becoming a constituent part of tho com¬
pound, produces by its presence merely
a miraculous chemical change.
This change from starch to glucose is
agradud process and has four or five
well defined stagos. On'tho addition
of the acid tho first change results in
the production of what is known to
chemists as dextrine. If, at this stago,
the acid is neutralized by tho addition
of lime water, tho procoss is choked
and dextrine is the permanent product.
If the procoss is allowed to go on, tho
acid, however, works a second change
and maltose is tho remit.- Hero tho
process can, if necessary, be interrupted
by neutralizing tho acid by means of
limo water, and for somo purposes in
the art of brewing this is sometimes
done.
The third and important stago in the
chemical change wrought by the action
results in tho production of glucose,and
just here is where tho greatest skill of
the chemist is required. Tho product
must show by te3t that it responds ex¬
actly to tho chemical formula C6, 1112,
06. By comparing this formula with
that of starch, which is CO, H10, 05—
that is, six parts of carbon to ton of hy¬
drogen and five of oxygen—it will be
seen that tho sulphuric acid has not
added to tho starch, but has taken up
two parts of hydrogon, and the only
gain in tho starch is ono part of oxygon.
Tho lime wafer introduced to neutral
izo tho acid forms with it a product
called gypsum, which can bo removed
from the glucoso without leaving any
appreciable trace.
The fourth stago in the chemical pro¬
cess results in chrystaliziag the liquid,
and then (ho product is called grapo
sugar. There is a fifth stago in which
caramel, or burnt sugar, could be pro¬
duced were it of any commercial value.
Tho gypsum, or sulphate of lime, formed
by tho neutralizing limo water and sul¬
phuric acid, sinks by gravitation to the
bottom of tho vessel and tha supernatant
saccharine liquid is drawn off from the
top. This is almost pure chemical glu
cose, but it is still subjected
to a filtering process through bone
blrck and refined in tho samo way
as cano su »nr ii refined. Tha bone-black
has anything bat the appearance of a
purifying agent, but possesses tho pe
cu iar property of attracting to i< self all
coloring matter. The glucose passing
through a labyrinthine system f filter
ing is drawn eff at spigots in no lower
part of tho building, and is ready to bo
shipped away in barrels. To givo the
glucoso tbo appearance of cauo syrup
as well as to impart some of tho char
fictcri-tic taste, a small amount of that
lyrup is added, to suit tho fancy of
buyo.s.
To make grape sugar tho glucose is j
dried in rapidly revolving vossols, from
which much of tho moisture oscapes bv*^
virtue of tho centrifugal force. Neither
the glucoso nor the grapo sugar is uso-l
for domestic purposes, although* cither
one is about two thirds as sweet as the
sweetest capo sugar. Glucoso is chi* fly
used for fermenting purposos, and of
Into years has bt&Ame invaluable to tho
brewer iu making beer and pale ales.
It is also largely used i.\ mixtures with
cane syrups and molasses, and is
esteemed more wholesomo than tho
cane product, Which is at best only a
side product or residue in the manufac¬
ture of cauo sugar.
yt
Kerosene nn Antodoto for Strychnine.
A special dispatch to tho Cincinnati
Enquirer from Providence, R. I.,records
the discovery under peculiar circum¬
stances of an antodoto for poisoning by
strychnine. One Benjamin Johnson,
for somo reason or no reason, ha tily de¬
cided to end his existence and swallowed
tou grains of strychnine. Im nod lately
ho rogrotted tho rash art and yelled to
his wife for help. Mr'. Jdi ison,though
a nervous little woman, did not havo
spasms or hysterics, neither dil sho lose
her breath. She bethought herself of'
he oil can, with its couplo of quarts of
freshly-purchased illuminating fluid.
When Johnson was almost i:i the iliroes
of death Mrs. Johnson sciz d tho kero¬
sene can and the spout was thrust well
down into tho throat. The oil flawed
rapid y, and Johnson wns a very sick
man. A quart of oil had been swallowed,
but not without the greatost dotsrmina
tion on tho wife’s part. “That will
not hurt you," said Mrs. Johnson, “and
you know you buy it to drink just tho
same. That's ju-t what they sell you,
but I'd give you tho other if I had it in
tho house.” Mrs. Johnson workc 1 hard
to get tho remaining quart into her
husband’s stomach, but lie was filled to
the teeth. In a few moments kerosene
and poison boilod out from Johnson’s
frame, and when physicians arrived
there was little to do hut observe tho
telling work of Mrs. Johnson. Sho had
saved his life, for the koroseno antidote
worked well. Mrs. Johnson 3«id that
some yoars ngo sho liv.d in tho lumber
region of Pennsylvania, and men bitten
by. snakes had been filled with plain
koroseno instead of whisky, tho usual
antidote in such cases, and uone to her
knowledge had ever died.
Tlie Congressional Bathrooms.
Tho coolest placo is downiu tho bath¬
rooms in tho lowest basement of the
Capitol, soys a Washington letter to
the Philadelphia Telegraph. Both the
Senate and tho IIouso are provi lod with
the most perfect bathing facilities. TUo
bathrooms aro well patronized. Tho
tubs aro spacious, and of cool, white
marble. There are attendants to pre¬
pare the baths and to rub the statesmen
down on to wipe thorn off, if they do
siro it. Scented soaps, bay rum and
cooling toilet wnters aro at their com¬
mand. They can get in a tub of cold
water and soak for an hour if they de¬
sire. They can evon have ice in tho
water if they desire it. They havo tho
comforts of the world at tlioir command.
It was under such conditions that Mr.
Reagan took his famous batb, from
which ho emerged, wrapped in a sheet,
to vote for tho Morrison bill during tho
last Congress. The overworked Repre¬
sentatives and ovorfatted Senators find
a luxury in this. I am told of ono Sen¬
ator who sits in tho bath and road;. Tha
men in charge of those baths are kopt
busy turning on and eff tho water,
changing towels and distributing lo¬
tions from morning until night, and
even during tho night when thoro is
what is called an “evening session” —
a deceptive term which denotes a ses¬
sion which may close at 10 o’clock or
1 in tho morning.
Jullen the Famous Chef.
Julienne soup was invented by tho
famous Julion, who camo to Boston
about tho time of tho French Revolu¬
tion, and established tho “Restorator"
on Milk street. He is also memorable as
the inventor, or at least the instigator,
of tho idea of soiling food in hermeti¬
cally saalod cans. After his roturn to
Franco, at tho restoration, ho sold his
right or patent to a noted restaurant in
tho French capital, and tho new pro
prietors sold tho soup in cans to all na
tioas.
In lending tho stairs Bobby’s foot
dipped and he and tha coal hod which
ha wa8 cnr J ia S, rattled to the bottom,
“Here, hero, ’ shouted tho old man
from tho parlor, “what’s up out there 1"
“Nothings up, Pa, shouted back
Bobby,who wasn’t much hurt. “Every
thing’s down 1"—[Epoch,
NO. 36.
Boll It Down.
Whatever you have to say, my friend,
Whether witty, or grave, or gay— j
Condense as much as ever you can,
And say in the readiest way;
And whether you write on rural affairs,
Or particular things in town,
Just a word of kindly advice, my friend—
Boil it down.
Forjf you go splattering over a page,
When a couple of lines would do,
Your butter is spread so much, you see.
That the bread looks plainly through.
So when you have a story to tell,
And would like a little renown,
To make nuite sure of your wish,my frlenS
Boil it down.
When writing an article for the press,
Whether proso or verse, just try
To utter your thoughts in the fewest words,
And let it be crisp and dry;
And when it is finished, and you supp a
It is done up exactly brown,
Just look it over once more, and the
Boil it down.
For editors do not like to print
An artielo lazily loug,
And the general reader does not care
For a couple of yards of song.
So gather your wits in the smallest spaos,
If you’d win tho author's crown,
And every time that you write, my friend—
Boil it down.
—[Scottish Farming World.
humorous
A hot ball—Tho sun.
A building lot—Tho beavsrs. ./
A dry Dac.—A thirsty physician.
It may sound paradoxical, but fogs
never would bo mist.
Uneasily lies tho tongue that hasn’t
tho evidence to back it.
Tho music of the spheres—Tho sound
of colliding billiard balls.
To make a long story short—Send it
to tho editor of a newspaper.
Tho French aro excellent judges of
horso-flesh—When it’s cooked 1
“It’s perfect angel of house,” said ft*
a a
Bhe. “All wings, I suppose,” suid he.
A barber's school is talked of in
Boston. Of course only little shavers
will go thero. -
A small boy, required to write a sen¬
tence containing tho word “hominy,"
produced tho following: “Ilominy mar*
bles have y.ou?"
Miss Branigan: Don’t you think Mr.
Donovan has a very sensitive mouth?
Miss McBerrin (blushing violently):
How should I know?
Oldboy says that when four women
are walking abreast on tho pavoments
they will break ranks for nothing ex¬
cept a man—with a paint pot.
“How doos tho new girl striko you?"
asked a husband. “Sho hasn’t struck
mo yot,” answered tho wife meekly.
“But she has done almost everything
else.”
Tho reflection of an anarchist in a
picture gallery; IIow exasperating to
think of so much canvas wasted while
thousands of poor wretches aro unable
to afford more than ono shirt to their
backs.
“What do you publish a paper for,
Td like to know?" sarcastically inquired
an irato politician, tackling a country
editor. “For $2.00 a year, ia advance,"
responded the editor, “and you owe mo
for four years."
A littlo pamphlet called “Humour in
ye Sixteenth Century” shows that ye
joker of that period borrowed a great
deal of his wit from yc humorist of yo
nineteenth century, without giving a
particle of credit.
Member of local baseball club—“Kin
you tell mo what that load 'r logs is fer,
that coma up on your train ?’’ Captain
of league team—“Thom’s our bats.”
Member of local team—‘ Say, boss,
we’ll forfeit th’ gamcl”
“What is the price of that tea?” sha
askod of the corner grocar. “Ono dol¬
lar ’narf, marm,” was tho response. “Is
not that too steep?" was tho next
question; and tha c. g. replied: “Yes,
marm; that’s what they do with it."
Young ladies are now filling “head al¬
bums.” Each gentleman is asked for a
“shape" of his head as given by a hat
conformateur in a hat store, and it ia
pasted into an elegantly-bound scrap¬
book. It is a new way tho girls have of
getting a head of tho boys.
Mrs. Lenox Hill, Jr. t Er—doesn't it
seem to you, Henry, as if thero was
gomtfthing I had forgotten in making this
pound-cake? Mr. Lenox Hill, Jr. (crit¬
ically): Well, yes; if it only had a
handle, you know, it would bo easier
to pound with.
She—No, Mr. DeDood, I cannot be
your wHb, but I will bo a sister to you.
Mr. Do Dood: Ah, thanks. So glad,
don't you know. You aro tho forty
seventh sister and tho season isn’t half
over. And Chollia Slim has only get
j eighteen, don’t you know,