Newspaper Page Text
X
L
THE CHEROKEE" ADVANCE.
VOLUME V.
•'EXAMINE HOW YOUR HUMOR 19 INCLINED, AND WHICH TBR RULING PASSION OF YOUR MIND."
CANTON, GEORGIA, THURSDAY MORNING. FEBRUARY 7, 1884.
NUMBER 6.
THE CHEROKEE ADVANCE.
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY
—bt— ,
REN. F. PERRY, *41ter aad Proprietor.
0,n<r up-itatn, cor. WW JferfcBa m* #■*»•
vilie Strcrta—OMr Com* “
OFFICIAL ORGAN CHKROKRBCOUNTY.
TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION.
Per Annum in Advance, $1.00
If payment is delayed 1.25
^^Advertising ltatea extremely low,
to unit the timeB.*$Ml
Lkoai, advertisements inserted and
i barged for os prescribed by an act of
the General Assembly.
Advertisements will l>e run until for
bidden, unless otherwise marked, aud
charged for accordingly. All considered
due after first insertion. v *
All communications intended for pub
lication must bear the name of writer,
not necessary for publication, but as s
guarantee of good faith.
Wc shall uot in any way be responsible
for the opinions of contributors.
No communication will he admitted
into our columns having for its end a
defamation of private character, or in
any other way of a scurrilous import of
public good.
Correspondence solicited on all points
of general importance—hut let them l>e
briefly to the point.
All communications, letters of busi
ness, or money remittances, to receive
prompt attention, must be addressed to
BEN. F. PERRY, Canton, Ga.
P. O. Drawer 49.
Professional and Buslnsss
Cards.
W. A. 16.1. Tt ISLET,
Attorneys* at Law,
CANTON, GEORGIA.
Will give prompt a'tention to all busi
ness intrusted to them. Will practice in
all rha courts of the county aud in the
Superior Courts of the Blue Ridge cir
cuit. janS-ly
C. D. MADDOX,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
CANTON, GEORGIA
Refers by permission to John Silvey A
Co., Thos. M. Clarke A Co., James R.
Wylie and Gramling, Spalding A Co., all
of Atlanta, Ga. janl-’83-ly
GEO. R. BROWN,
ATT RONEY AT LAW,
Will practice in the Superior Courts
of Cobb, Mil on, Forsyth, Pickens and
Dawson counties, and in the Superior
and Justice courts of Cherokee.
Office over Jos. M. McAfee’s store
Special attention given to the collec
tion of claims.
Business respectfully solicited.
[jan3-’83 ly.]
H. W. NEWMAN.
JNO. D. ATTAWAY.
NEWMAN & ATTAWAY,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
CANTON, - - - GEORGIA.
Will practice in the Superior Courts
•f Cherokee and adjoining countie*.
Prompt attentiou given to all business
placed in their hands. Office in the
Court House. [jan3-’83-ly ]
P. P. DuPREE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
CANTON, GEORGIA.
Will practice in th* Blue Ridge cir
cuit and in Cherokee county. Onic? in
the Court House with the Ordinary.
Administrations on estates.
B0r*Co lections a specialty.
BEN. F. PERRY,
-—AUKNT —
FIRE AND LIFE INSURANCE CO.
Office with Cherokee Advance.
L. NEWMAN,
HOUSE & CARRIAGE PAINTER,
Paper Hanging and Calcimiulng,
Graining and Glazing.
AT.r. WORK CxUARANTEED
Oan be found a Warlick’s Shop.
[jan3-83-ly]
J. M. HARDIN.
House, Sign, Carriage
—AND—
ORNAMENTAL fainter,
FRESCO AND SCE9IC ARTIST ALSO.
Oriental and Grecian painting. Mezv>
Tintinv, Carbo-Tinting, painting in He-
pei and India Ink.
Twenty-five per ceut saved by apply-
'ng to u»e before contracting with others.
Material furnished at bottom prices.
Satisfaction given or no charges made.
Sae or address, J M. HARDIN
0*o8-’88-lyJ Canton, Georgia,
HER PICTURE.
I— her bow—tlia fairest thing
That aver mocked man's picturing,
I picture bar aa one who drew
Aside Ufa’s curtain and looked throng a
Tha aMa of all life's mystery
Aa from a Wood to open asa.
Tha aeft, wide eyes af wonderment
That trusting looked you through aud
through t
The sweet, arolicd mouth, a bow new bant,
That sent lore’s arrow swift and true.
That sweet arohed mouth! The Orient
Hath not such pearls in all her stores ,
Not all her storied spioe-set shores
Have fragrance such as It hath spent,
1 picture her as one who knew
How rare Is truth to be untrue—
Ak one who knew the swfnl sign
Of death, of life, of Hip divine
Sweet pity, or all loves, ail hates,
Baneath the irou-footed fates.
I picture her aa seeking peace,
And olive leaves and Vine-set land ;
While strife stood by on either hand,*
And wrung her tears like roMrtea
I picture her In passing rhyme
As of, yet not a part of, these—
A woman horn above her time ;
A woman waiting in tier place,
With patient pity on her face.
Her face, her earnest, baby face;
Her young faro, so uncommon wise—
The tender love-light in her eyas—■
•fern stars of Heaven ont’ot nlaea.
Two star* that eeng aa atarajof old
Their silent eloquence of song,
From skies of glory and of gold.
Where Ond in purple passed along—
that patient, baby faro of hers
That wou a thousand worshipers 1
That silent, pleading fsoa; among
Ten thousand faces Just the one
I still shall love when all is done,
And life lies by, a harp unstrung.
That fate, like shining aheaves among
That fees half bid, 'midaheaveaof gold
That face that never can grow old;
And yet haa never been quite young.
JoAgutF Mills a.
ROMANCE OFJBS ANGELES
"Of nil Don Autonio’a graphic norrn-
tivoe of the olden times, none ia more in
teresting than those which describe his
adventures daring the days of this con-
keek. On one of the first approaches
made by the Americans to Los Angeles,
he went out with Ilia little haphazard
company of men and boys to meet
then. He had hut one cannon, a small
one, tiod by ropes on a cart axle. He
had bat oue small keg of powder which
was good for anything; all the rest was
had ; would merely go off 'pouf, poaf,’
the senora said, and the ball wonld pop
down near the mouth of the caution.
With this bad powder he fired his first
shots. The Americans laughed ; this is
child’s play, they said, and pushed on
closer. Then came a good shot, with the
good powder, tearing into their ranks
and knocking them right and left; an
other, and another. {Then the Ameri
cans began to think, these are no pouf
balls; and when a few more were killed,
they ran away and left their flag behind
them. And if they had only known it,
the Californians had only one more
charge left of the good powder, and the
next minnte it wonld have been the Cali
fornians that would have hod to run
away themselves,' merrily laughed the
senora as she told the tale.
"This captured flag, with important
papers, were intrusted to Don Antonio
to carry to the Mexican head
quarters at Sonora. He set off with an
escort of soldiers, hia horse decked with
silver trappings, his sword, pistols—all
of the finest; a proud beginning of a
journey destined to end in a different
fashion. It was in winter time; cold
rains were falling; by night he was
drenched to the skin, and stopped at a
friendly Indian’s tent to change his
clothes. Hardly had he got them of*
when the sound of horses’ hoofs was
heard. The Indian flung himself down,
put his ear to the ground and exclaimed,
‘Americanos! Americanos I’ Almost in
the same second they were at the tent’s
door. As they halted, Don Antonio,
clad only in his drawers and atockinga,
crawled out at the back of the tent, and
oreeping on all fours reached a tree, up
which he climbed, and sat safe hidden
in the darkness among its branches lie-
tening, while his pursuers cross-ques
tioned the Indian, and at last rode away
with his horse. Luckily, he had carried
into the tent the precious papers and the
captured flag; theae he intrusted to an
Indian to take to Sonora, it being evi
dently of no use for him to try to cross
the country thns eloaely pursued by his
enemies.
"All night he lay hidden; the next
day he walked twelve miles across the
mountains to an Indian village where be
hoped to get a horse. It was dark when
he reached it. Cautiously he opened
the door of the hat of one whbm he
knew welL The Indian was preparing
poisoned arrows; fixing one on the
string and aiming at the door, he celled
cut, angrily, 'Who is there ?’
" ‘It is I, Antonio.’
I " ‘Don’t make a sound,' whispered
j the Inchau, throwing down hi# arrow,
springing to the door, coming out and
etoaing it softly. He then proceeded to
tell him that the Americans had offered
a reward for his head, aud that some of
the Indiana in the ranoheria were ready
to betray or kill him. While they were
yet talking, again earns the sound of
the Americans' horses' hoof# galloping
ia the distance. This time there
■eeued no escape. Suddenly Don Anto
nio, throwing himself on his stomaoh,
wriggled into a cactus patch near_hjr.
Only one who has seen California oaotiu
thickets eon realize the desperatenesa
of this aot. But it succeeded. The
Indian threw over the old eaotus plauta
an old blanket and some refuse stalks
and reeds; aud there ouoe more, within
hearing of all his hsffled pursuers said,
the hunted man lay, safe, thanks to
Indian friendship. The crafty Iudian
assented to all the Americana proposed,
said that Don Antonio would lie sure to
be caught in a few daya, advised them
to search In e certain ranoheria which
he deaoribedre tew milt* off, end in an
opposite direction from the way in
which he intended to guide Don Auto-
nio. Aa eoon ae the Americans had
gone, he bound up Antouio's feet iu
etrfpe of raw bide, gave him a blanket
and eh old tattered hat, the beat his
storeo afforded, and then led him by a
long end dtffienlt trail to a spot high up
in the mouutaius where the old women
of the bend were gathering aooraa. By
the time they reached this place, blond
waa trickling from Antouio'a feet and
legs, end he waa well-nigh fainting with
fatigue end excitement. Tears rolled
down the o’d women's cheeks when they
eaw him. Some of them had been ser
vants in his father’s house and loved
him. One brought gruel; another
bathed hia feet; othenranin search of
healing leaves of different aorta. Brnis
ing these in a atone mortar, they rubbed
him from head to foot with the wet
liber. All his pain and weariness van
ished os by magic. His wonnda healed,
and in a day he was ready to set off for
home. There waa but one pony in the
old wemeu'a camp. Tbia was old,
yieioiu. blind of one eye, and with one
ear cropped ilhort; but Rlodfced to Don
Antonie far more beautiful than the gay
steed on which he had ridden away
from Los Angeles three days before.
There waa one pair of ragged shoes of
enormous size among the old women’s
possessions. These were strapped on
his feet by leather thongs, end a bit of
old sheepskin was tied around the pony’s
body. Thus accoutered and mounted,
shivering in his drawers under his single
blanket, the captain and flag-tiearer
turned his face homeward. At the first
friend’s honse he reached he stopped
and begged for food. Borne dried meat
was given to him, and a stool on the
porch offered to him. It was the house
of a dear friend, and the friend’s sister
was his sweetheart. As he sat there
eating his meat the women eyed him
curiously. One said to the other, 'How
much he looks like Antonio I'
‘At last the sweetheart, coming nearer,
asked him if he were ‘any relation of
Dou Antonio ?’
" ‘No,’ lie said.
"Just at that moment his friend rode
up, gave one glance at the pitiful beggar
sitting on bis porch, shouted his name,
daabed toward him, and seized him in
his arms. Then was a great laughing
and half weeping, for it had lieen ru
mored that he had lieen taken prisoner
by the Americans.
"From this friend he received a wel
come gift of a pair of trowsers, many
inches too short for his legs. At the
next house his friend was as much too
tall, and his second pair of gift trowsers
had to be rolled np in thick folds around
bis ankles.
"Finally, lie reached Los Angeles in
mfety. Halting in a grove ontside the
town, be waited till twilight before en
tering. Having disguised himself in th a
rags which he bad worn from the Indian
village, he rode lioldly up to the porch
of hia father’s house, and in an impudent
tone called for brandy. The terrified
women began to scream; but his young
est sister, fixing one piercing glance on
his face, laughed out gladly, and cried:
“ ‘You can’t fool me, you are Anto
nio.’ ”—The Century.
k Herring Field.
In one of the Lofoden Islands, off the
coast of Norway, is a deep and tideless
lake of considerable extent, connected
with an inlet from the ocean by a short
and shallow ditch. The important dis
covery has lately been made that this
lake, though it contains so little salt
that the water is uot uupleasant to the
taste, is stocked with herrings, which
not only thrive but breed there. They
are so uumerous that thirty tons of them
were netted in a few days this season.
The story ia that they multiply faster
and flourish better than in the sea, for
tli3 leaKon that ihe lake contains pons
of their natural enemies
THE OLD LADY BEAT JOHN.
TMK JUIMUPN NTOKY ABOUT TMN
Wll.l, THAT WASN'T FINIMHKD.
Alter • Frarlal Drlv* *1 Tw» IBIIro a
sirrni Nlikl M Minister I* a Ortas
Wmm Mm SmMm m Live i* Malta
Jean,
The judge sod I had been driving ont
some miles in the afternoon, and coming
home in the twilight, passed a substan
tial-looking, though very old farm house,
with oomfortabla ( berna and out-build-
iugs, indicating a well-to-do householder.
The rich boMafct lands which stretched
away a half mgs from the river to the
hill slopes, covered with abundant birch
and maple were luxuriant with grain
and corn.
That evening, when we were silling in
the library, after dinuer, smoking and
chatting, I asked the judge:
"To whom does that farm wo pasaed
on the level belong?"
When I asked him the question, the
judge laughed outright, and after a mo
ment's pause, said: "I will tell yon a
story.
"One storng, winter night, after mid-
uiglit I was alttiug here reading, the rest
of the family having goue to sleep long
Indore, wheu eld Dr. Strong thundered
at the door knocker, and made noise
enough to wake the Heveu Sleepers. It
is a way lie has, and neither my wife
nor the girla, who were roused out of
slinnlier, nor I myself, hail any question
who was at the door. I let him in myself,
aud a tempest of wind and anow with
him. The blast that drove him into my
arms also put out the hall lights, whirled
into the library, and flared the reading
lamp so that it broke the chimney, end
biased up to a colored tisane-paper
aflair which duals had put over the
abode, set it on fire, and for a moment
threatened a general oonflagratiea of
|M|*era and books on the table.
" ‘Shut the door yourself,’ I shouted,
and rushed book here to pet out the
Arc. That done, I went book and found
the old doctor out ef breath, ia the
dark, tryfcig to shut tha door against
the wind.' It took the strength of both
of us to«, i it. Then I told him to find
hi* way «»life Ubstfry, Apt he knew It,
and I went off in seereh of another
lamp.
"When I came book, ho was just re
covering hie wind, and after a gasp or
two, told me his errand. 'Old Mra.
Norton is dying. She can’t live till
morning. Bhe’s alive now only on stiinu
lanta. She wants to make a will, and I
have come for you.’
" ‘A nice night,’ I said, 1 for a two
mile drive to make a will for a woman
wiio hasn’t a cent in the world to leave.
Why didn’t you tell her so, and have
done with it?'
" ‘Now, look here,’ said the doetor,
‘this is a ease of an old woman, and an
old neighbor end a friend, and ahe
wants you to do something for her, snd
you'll do it, if it is only to comfort her
lost hours. Get your things end come
with me. We shall not find her alive it
you don’t hurry, end you’ll be sorry if
that happens.’
"The upshot of it waa that I went.
We had a fearful drive ont to the farm
house on the fist, wbioh yon are asking
about, Mrs. Norton vu the widow of
John Norton, who died forty odd years
before this. John Norton, wheu he
married her, was a widower with eue
son, John. He weals man of considera
ble property, and when he died left a
widow, that aou John by his first wife,
aud two sous by his second wife. The
older sou, John, had never lieen ou very
warm terms with his stepmother, ami
for siime years had had no intercourse
with the family.
"I found the old lady lying in the big
room, on a great bedstead on one side
of tbe room, opposite to the broad chim
ney, in which waa a roaring fire, the
only light in the room. After the doc
tor had spoken to her and administered
something, a stimulant, I suppose, he
came over to me aud said in a whisper,
‘Hnrry np, she’s very weak.’
"I hod brought paper and pen and
ink with me, I found a stand and a
candle, placed them at the head of the
bed, and after saying • few
words to her, told her I was ready to
prepare the will, if she would now go on
and tell me what she wanted me to do.
I wrote the introductory phrase rapidly,
and leaning over toward her said:
‘Now go on, Mrs. Norton.’ Her voice
waa quite faint, and she seemed to speak
with an effort. She said: ‘First of all
I want to give tbe farm to my sons,
Harry and James; just put that down.’
‘But,’ said I, ‘you can’t do that, Mrs.
Norton; the farm isn’t yours to give
away.*
" ‘The farm isn’t mine ! ’ she said in
a voice decidedly stronger than before.
“ ‘ No, tbe farm isn’t yonvs. You
have only a life interest in it.'
" ‘ This term that I’ve ran for goiu’ on
judge? I’d like to know what you
tneau ? ’
" ‘Why, Mr. Norton, your husband,
gave yon a life estate in all Ilia property,
and on your death the properly gees to
his son John, and your ohildren get the
village houses.’
" 'And wheu I die John Norton ia to
have this house and farm whether 1 will
or no.’
"Must so. It will be liis,’
" 'Then I ain’t going to die,’ said the
old womau iu a clear and decidedly
riuging, healthy voice. Ami so saying
she threw her feet over the front of the
bed, sat up, gathered a blanket aud
coverlid about her, straightened up her
gaunt form, walked across the room and
aid down in n gloat clmir before the lire.
The doctor aud I cauie homo. That
was tifieon years ago. The old lady ia
alive to-day. And alie accomplished her
tnteut.
‘Bho heat John after ell. He died
four years ago in Boston, and I don’t
know what will tie left. But whoever
cornea into the farm-house when she
goes ont, it will not be John. And sinoe
John’s death the farm baa lieen better
kept, aud everything about it is in vastly
I>ett«r condition for strangers then ft
wonld hate been for John.”
I’ctor C«m|ior’N Sympathy.
THE HUMOROUS PAPERS.
WHAT WB FISH* IN THEM TO BSIlIii
Of KB.
m (TRUTH AND A MORAL.
Hers Is s silver dime, my bob t
Looks like iced, it l« blackened eo;
Not a bit like tbe shining one
I dropped in my pocket a week age.
Dingy ? Yes. Don't yon think It elrange
It should lose its sheen in so short a tuns?
Would von like to know how came this ehaiige
For the worse lo a brsnd-naw silver dime?
The caime Is t-imple aud easily told,
Uiit lay It to In-art, O son of mine I
Heo if it does uot a moral hold
For s bright, brave hoy with s wish toshiBO
I draw from my pocket a copper root
Her, there is ilic secret : the silver dime,
Dropped In till* pocket by af Jdent.
lias rnhticd against roppot all this tima.
And the cent Is never a whit more white
Nor improved at all hy its company,
While die sllvev dime cornea out leu bright
And IU value is questioned, ax yon see.
Now Hie moral for uoys ia very olear.
You see it, my eon V Well, lay It to heart
And see. I drop the silver hen,
And tfie copper there; let them he apart.
THU BOV'S MMURDV.
Oh, yes, the moral is olear as . ...
but I thought I was going to sat that dime»
He gives me the moral - that's aad*a r
And |Mick«ts tha money every time.
Mrs. Hunan N. Carter, the head of the
Woman's Art Bobool of the Cooper In
stitute, contributes an anecdotal paper
to the December Century, iu which she
■ays of Mr. Cooper's alma: " 'All I want,'
he said, 'is, that these poor women shall
earn decent and respectable livings, and
especially that they shall lie kept from
marrying bad husbands.’
"This subject of unhappy marriages
seemed to lie a very prominent one iu
Mr. Oooper’s miud. That womeu were
often imposed upon, were ill-used aud
broken down, he had a lively conviction;
and all his chivalry and sense of fatherly
protection were enlisted to save them,
so far as he ootihl, from these ordinary
misfortunes. While the world is now
ooenpied with tho question of what
womeu can be taught, their 'higher ed
ucation,’ end mauy kindred subjects,
Mr, Oooper’s acute genius discovered, as
by intuition, many years ago, the rdej
tion of womeu of the middle class to so
oiety, to industries, aud the family. He
saw that many of them oould uot marry,
and he realized what must be the forlorn
position of a number of elderly daugli
ten of a poor mail. Ho had uoted the
dangerous likelihood of giddy, ignorant
young girls marryiug any I >ody for a
home, oven if the men they married
were dissipated or inefficient; and he had
the toudereat pity for poor widows or
deserted wives. Ho talked many times,
and at great length, on these subjects,
and all circumstances aud any sort of
incident brought up this desire of his
heart, to help women to be happy, in
dependent and virtuous.
"One of the last times he wus at the
school, and while a celebrated New York
clergyman was giving a course of Lenten
lectures to women, Mr. Cooper, with
his face all auimated with his feeling
about it, said: ‘Dr. ia of the wealthy
class, and he has lieen used to deal with
wealthy women. The world does not
look like tho same place to him that it
does to me. If lie conld lie In my place
for a month, aud read the letters I get
from poor and sn tiering women, he
would think that it would l»e best to
have them taught auythiug which they
oouUl learn to enable tbem to lessen all
this trouble.’”
A fepture.
A Chicago constable went into the
suburbs to serve a judgment for $86 on a
poor widow. The woman had not the
oriSauH to satisfy the judgmeut, aud the
coustuble looked around to seo if there
wasn’t something he conld levy upon.
Rut the widow had nothiug in the house
save a rickety bedstead, three or four
common chairs, a pine table and a few
otber things of no value. Tbe consta
ble was about to return disgusted, when
he noticed a flock of geese in a pool of
water near the house. "Are these beau~
tiful geese yours?” asked the constable
of the old lady. "Yis, sir,” was the iu-
nooent reply, "them is mine, an’ they
are all the comfort I have.” "Well,”
said the oonstable, "I guess I’ll take
em,” and stripping off bia coat, he pro
ceeded to capture and tie the geese, a
performance which took him several
hours. He then made a proud entry
into the eity.
A pasbrnoer on the Anbury railroad
offered the conductor a trade dollar for
fare." The conductor examined it and
remarked : "I don’t want that pieoe of
money.” “Well, give it to tha company,
then,” replied the passenger.
Arras missing me team rabbit—’TU
tell you what it is, Hags ter, your rab-
iorty-threa year nezt spring iau t mine uts are ail two iuohes lee abort here
to do whet I phase with jt! Why not, |"
SB AROIRNT ANIMAL.
New Yorker—"Talking about old
horses, the oldest oue in America lives
in my Btate.”
Khlledelphisn—"What ia hia age?"
New Yorker—"It can be reliably
pleoad at forty-three yearn ; an ex-treax-
urer of Riohmoud county saya he be
lieves the animal's age is not ^jnder for
ty-five yeats.”
Philadelphian—"You don’t aay ao?
I should like to see that horse. Whet
street-ear line la lie on ?"—Philadelphia
Call. •
RBOOaMtXRD IT.
Juet previous to the opening
of e late meeting of tbe Lime-
Kiln Club the Keeper of the Sacred
Belies invited ell preeent to enter the
museum and gaze upon a reiie juet re
ceived from Meridian, Miss., in tbe
shape of aa old-time plantation hoe.
Nearly every member of tbe elub tried
hia best to recognize the ho# aa "da
werry one” he need to work with thirty
years ago, and more then one was
affected to tears, Tbe gentleman who
so kindly presented tbe relie he* the
thanks entisolBla i OoiiuiiPrte Preot.
ORUSBRD.
"How stupid I em,” acid Birdie Mc-
Hennepin, languidly, executing at tbe
same time quite a respectable yawn act.
"That's Irne,” remarked Gns De-
Hmitli, rather impulsively.
"Sir I” exclaimed Birdie, "you air
impertinent.”
"But you yourself just now asserted
that yon were stnpid.”
"I only said so without thinking,*
said Birdie, petulantly.
"Yea, and up to the time you spoke 1
had only thought so without saying it.”
Hang crape on Ihe door of Mias Birdie.
Another lover scratched off the list of
one of the Austin belles.—Texaa Sift-
ingt.
SOMETH I NO MOHR tJSRFUL.
"I say, Matilda,” snarled Mr. Pom-
granate, "can’t yon do something more
useful than to study the fashion jonr •
ual ?”
"Well, yes,” answered Mre. Pomgrai.-
ate, "I was jnat thinking that I conld do
something else.”
"And what is it, pray ?”
"I will dress according to it, if yon
will allow me the money.”
"I have already made enough allow
ances for your vanity and frivolity,” was
the brutal reply of the Austin husband
■Anatin Niftinge.
ONLY OR TRR 8TAOR.
"What is this?”
"This, my dear, is a star actor.”
"Why does he throw his arms in the
air, aud then slap hia hips with hia hand
and say, ‘Me heart ia broken’ ?”
"Oh, that is merely the play."
"Then hie heart is not broken I"
"Not quite."
"Wby does he say ‘me heart’ instead
of 'my heart’ ?”
‘‘Because he doesn’t know any bettei,
child. He has not studied English suffi
ciently to distinguish between the objec
tive snd possessive cases.”
"Shall I say 'me heart,’ 'me shoes,’
‘me gloves' ?”
"If yon ao, my dear, I shall have to
Hog vou.”
European Cities.—Berlin in 1816
had a population of 195,000, London
had one of 958,863 and Paris one of 713,-
966. Sixty yean later Berlin had 1,250,-
000, London 4,000,000 and Paris nearly
2,300,000. Berlin, tliereforo, increased
more than sixfold, London about four
fold and Paris about threefold. The
population of Berliu daring the reign of
King William ha# more thou doubled.
Failure should be the stepping-stour
|UWM»