Newspaper Page Text
THE CHEROKEE ADVANCE.
EXAMINE HOW YOUR HUMOR IS INCLINED, \NI> WHICH THE RULING PASSION OF YOUR MIND.’
VOLUME VI.
CANTON, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, MORNING, APRIL 10, 1885.
NUMBER
LO.
BESIDE THE BARS
Grandmother’! knitting ha* lost it* clmrm
Unheeded it lies iu her ample lap,
Wlnlo the sunset's crimson, soft and wairn
Touche* the frills of bar snowy cap.
She is pnzing on two beside the bar*,
Under the maple—who little oare
For the growing dink, or the rising *tar*,
Or tlio hint of frost in tlio autumn air.
Ono is a Rlonder slip of a girl
And one a man in the pride of yontl —
Tlie mrjden pure as the purest pearl,
Tbu lover strong m bis steadfast truth.
“Sw'r.t, my own, an a rose of Juno,’*
He sa^s full low o’er the golden head.
It would sound to her like a dear old tune,
Could grandmother hear tho soft words mid
For it seems but a little while ago
Bine® under tho maple, beside the liars,
She stood a girl, while the sunset's glow
Melted away mid the evening stars.
And little you dream how fond a prayer
Ooea up to God through His silver stars,
From the aged woman gazing there,
For the two who linger beside the bars.
Maiuuiikt Banos mi.
SOMEBODY.
norm-body crawls into mamma’s bod
Just at tlio bri nk of day,
Hei.ggles up close and whispers loud:
'‘.Somebody's come to Btay."
Homelsxty rushes through tho house,
Newr once shuts a door;
Scatters her playthings all around
'Over tlio nursery floor.
Climi -a on the fence, nnd tears her clothes—
Never a bit cares she—
Swings on the gate, and makes mud pies—
. Who can somebody bo ?
Somebody looks with roguish eyes
Up through her tangled liairj
“Somebody’s me," she says, “but then
Somebody doesn’t caro."
SUNSET AND DAWN.
It hml been a glorious September day,
and the buu was sinking in a gorgeous
pile of many-tinted clouds, when the
train that whs to tako me oityward drew
op at tho little platform that was the
only railway station at N . I had
been rusticating in tLat wee conutry
Tillage for six weeks, my first vacation
in as many yean.
About myself, it ia only neoenary to
state that I am a physician, past middle
age, and holding a position in a pablio
institution. My work was hard, my va
cations, few, and I sorely needed the reel
I hod been taking when the train took
me ap at N .
As I took my plaoe in a crowded ear, 1
UOticud quite near me, two women, one
elderly aud wearing the dress of a re
spectable servant, the other very yonng,
and dressed with simple elegance.
There wns nothing in the dress of either
to attract attention, but apparently the
younger lady had been faint, for the
other hud taken off her hat, and was
fanniug her with it. The face that
rested upon the shoulder of the servant
was tlio most beautiful ns to form and
feature, tho most ghastly in color, the
most despairing iu expression that I ever
behold. Clouds of light, golden hair
moved in tiio cool breeze from the open
window, nnd tho eyes, fixed vacantly,
wero of the purest blue, tho eyes of a
babe in shape and color. The fair com
plexion was perfcotly colorless, and
under the large, blue eyes were heavy,
purple hollows, while tho lips of the
perfect mouth were parched and white.
I stepped to the water-cooler, mixed a
light dose of ammonia and water, and
handed it, to the elder woman.
“I am a physician,” I said. “Lot
her drink this. It cannot harm her.”
“Thank you,” both said at once, and
the doso was obediently swallowed.
I returned to my seat, but ns the
tedious hours wore away, I noticed fre
quently that beautiful, grief-stricken
faoe. There was no sign of mourning
in the quiet pray dress, but that there
had been some blighting sorrow in the
young life was only too plainly evident
Tho moon rose, lighting the pleasant
fcones which we passed at lightning
Bpeed, nnd it was nearly midnight wheD,
without warning, there was a crash, and
wo were thrown here and there amid the
wreck and the ruins of the trains which
had come into collision.
I found myself, as I recovered from
tho effects of a stunning blow upon the
head, hurled against a fenoe at some
distance from the trains. Tho moon
lighted up a scene of horror and confu
sion upon all sides, and the air was full
of cries of pain, groans, shrieks and a
Babel of voices.
Clear above all rose one loud, com
manding voice; “If there is a surgeon
unhurt, will he assist us ?”
That roused me, and I staggered for
ward, recovering myself fully before I
spoke. Two others had also answered
that call, and we found plenty of work
for brain and hands. I was rising from
the examination of one hopeless oasc,
when a light hand touched me, and look
ing I saw a young girl, who said:
‘ ‘They have carried two women to our
house. Will yon come with me to see
them ?”
I followed at onoe. Not twenty stops
away wo reached n small wooden house,
the door of which opened into a small
room, and there, by tho light of two
lamps, I saw tho women who had so in
terested mo during tho first hours of that
fearful journey. They were lying upon
mattresses, evidently hurriedly spread
upon the fioor, anil only ono glanoo was
needed to prove tho^orrows, which I had
felt were slowly crushing out tho
younger life, wero over upon cart In
But the elder woman still lived, and 1
knelt down beside her, to try to niil her.
A brief • examination sufficed. Here,
too, doutli had sot his seal, though tho
patient would livo a few hours.
She opened her eyes while I still kuolt
beside her.
"Miss Loma,” sbo said faintly—“my
mistress, my nursling—is she hurt ?"
"Yos," I answered.
“I must go to her 1” and struggling
to rise, she caught sight of tho rigid
faoe.
'•Dead I” she whispered; “dond I
Thank God !”
It was said soforvently, so thankfully,
(hat I looked at the speaker in amaze
ment.
“Yon gavo mo tho medioine on the
train," she said presently. “Yon said
you wero a dootor 1 Tell me, shall I get
to New York ?”
T hesitated to speak.
“Do not be afraid to tell me,” she
urged; “you look kind-hearted. If I
am dyinor, will you not see that the poor
child is taken to her friendB ?”
“I will,” I answered gravely, taking
out niv note-book; “tell me her name
nuil address.”
“Her name is Loma Fairthorne. Yon
will have her taken to hor brother’s
house, Mr. Graves, 1527 street.”
■“I will do ns yon desire,” I said.
Presently she said:
"I must trust somebody. Somebody
must toll her mother nnd brother. You
liavo been kind. Will you hear tho
truth and tell them ?”
“Yes," I said again, seeing that the
woman's, agitation was shortening her
little time on earth, “yon may trust me
to fulfill any request you may make.”
“They will know,” she said—"Mrs.
Ci raves will kbow who Luoins Fairthorne
is ! Loma, my poor darling, loved him
u early a year ago, but her brother knew
him for a bad man, a villain ae he was,
nnd forbade him the house. But Miss
Loma worshiped him. He wns a pio-
t uro of a man to look at, sir, he was in
deed ! Well, she fretted so I could not
bear to see ber, nnd I carried the letters
for the both of them, like a wicked,
foolish woman, I can see now I But it
was all for love of tho ohild I nursed.”
She broke down, sobbing, but re
gained her composure after a moment.
“The lottera made all the preparations
for a runaway match, sir, though I
never guessed that, and Mr Fairthorne
knew that when Miss Loma came of ago
neither mother nor brother could keep
her out of the money hor father left her.
So ho persuaded her to ran away, and
when I found she would go, I ran away
too. Bbe was never strong, sir, mi l I
had nursed her all her life. Mr. Fair-
Ihorno wa3 none too well pleased to see
mo in the carriage, that took Miss
Loma to Central Park to meet him, but
lie let me slay with her. Bo wo all went
to Boston. He wanted to write to Mr.
Graves aud demand his wife’s money at
once, but she coaxed him to wait, telling
him it was tied up until she was twenty-
one, and that won’t be till Christmas
week, sir. She'll never claim it.”
“When did she leave him?” I asked.
“Early iu Jane ! Sho wuh not married
a week before hor husband began to be
careless of her. But tho worst came
before they were a mouth married, when
he was arrested for a forgery and : t-
tempt to murder, that took place more
than a year ago. Then wo knew his
name was not Fairthorne. but Blake,
and ho had been taking the name of r.
friend who was in Europe. It is all in a
tangle in my poor old head, sir, bnt the
police carried him off.
“Well, sir, all this time Mr. Graves
was putting notices in the paper, with
out names right out, but we knew who
was meant, begging his sistor to come
home, or write and tell them whore she
was. She meant to write, until tho dis
grace came. Then she would not! But
she clung to her husband. Every day
she went to the prison aud sat with him
for hours, and he seemed to soften and
feel sorry for all that be had done, when
she was with him. Every night she
cried herself to sleep in my arms. She
was grieving herself to death, and those
who would havo come to comfort her
did not know her sorrow.
“I cannot tell you about the law part
of the trouble, sir, for I had my hands
ful) in oourt, watching the child. But
the end was, they sentenced Lucius
Blake to twenty years in the State
Ffison. He was taken there this morn
ing, anu I was teklog hi* wife home. Ii
I had waited she would not have gono
there, disgraced and worse than widowed.
But she wits stunned like, and did what
ever I said." ....
"And havo her mother and brother
known nothing of hor marriage ?”
“Not a word, sir 1 You will find hor
marriago certificate in her pockelbook,
and a picture of her husband in the
loekot on her neck. You hail better tako
them now. Tell her mother I never left
her, aud would havo brought her home I
But hor Heatenly Father knows best.
You started when I thanked Him that
she was dead I Is it not best so ? Think
of twenty years of mjsory, watching and
waiting, sorrowing and wcepiug. Bet
tor she’s gono, poor lamb, than living to
die by inches."
“But the law would free her from her
husband,” I said.
“No law would tako tho lovo out of
her heart, sir. Bad as he was, a forger,
a would-be-murderer, she lovod him!
That’s the strange part of. life, sir, how
a pure, good woman will cling to a bad
man. But thoy do, they do. Can yon
lift mo a little, sir, so I can so o her?”
I complied, lifting her tendprly, so
that she could rest upon my arm, and
see tho face death had left uusoarred
aud peaceful.
“It is long since she rested so quietly,”
theold woman; said solemnly; “sloop was
only living nil hor trouble over in
dreams. Who would wish to waken
her ?”
“Poor ohild!” I said softly, “she
sleeps quietly now.”
“Iu perfect peace 1 8ho will not
wakon to weep aud moan. Put me
ilnwu, please. I can rest, too, licforo
tlio time when you oarry us both homo I
Will this dreadful pain lost long, Bir ?”
“Not long,” I said.
I returned to the wreok outside.
There was ample work for m,o, aud I
tried with all my skill to meet it, oomiug
to the little houso whenever I could
spare a moment.
Each time I found my patient weaker,
carefully tended by the girl who had
summoned me to her aide. Tender
hands had prepared Loma for the grave
and carried her to another room, to
awnit the train that was expected as
soon as the track was cleared.
The third time I came, I knew that
the end of the faithful servant’s life was
very near. She smiled as I knelt hostile
the mattress, and put my finger upon
the fast failing pulse.
“The pain is all gone, doctor,” she
whispered faintly. “I shall not be long
separated from my child. She would
miss poor Margaret,- would she not?
Will yon carry mo homo with her?”
“You shall not bo separated,"
promised.
“You havo tho loekot add tho certifi
cate?”
“Yes, I have both.”
“Tell hor mother I was faithful to—I
never—loft—never—even—in — death !”
She smiled again, whispering the
words; and with the smile upon her
lips, her spirit joined that of the poor
sorrow-stricken child sho had lovo.1 so
devotedly.
I waited bc-side her till sho was carried
to the side of her nursling, and promised
to return to carry out tho mission upon
which sho had scut mo, fulfill the trust
reposed in me.
Tenderly, upon that fateful night,
I placed old Margaret beside her charge,
aud giving orders that they wero not to
be removed excepting in my caro, went
again to the scone outside to give what
service I could to other sufferers.
And as I opened the houso door, hav
ing seen tho last of the tragedy ended in
the little room, the early dawn wus
lighting the scene outside, and tho glow
of sunrise was reddening the east.
And I may say here that I kept my
word and saw the dead safely nnder tho
roof they had so rashly forsaken, and
told tho story entrusted to me to tho
sorrowing mother and brother.
Fine Sentiments to Order.
A rather fnnny thing in connection
with the suit of breach of promise
brought by Miss Fortesoue against Lord
Garmoyle comes to me from across the
water. When the case was brought up
in oourt, a letter from the lady to her
betrothed was read, and it expressed
sentiments of such a lofty character that
a very profound impression was made
npon everybody, even to the Judge
who heard them. It raised the young
lady very highly, in fact, in the estima
tion of the whole public. But the
letter is now found to have been copied i
varbatim from a book of correspondence,
where it appears under the head of
“Letters from a vouDg lady on receipt
of a valuable gift.” Everybody in Lon-
don is said to be laughing over the
discovery. But as Mi.->s Fork-scue has
received her $50,000, she will probably
not be much aff'eoted.—Bouton Herald.
WINTER AMONG THE WOODSMEN,
riard Work h» l)nj nod Jolly Times el
Nlslii Iu (lie l-nrrsis of .llnlur.
Dosp;*,o the tiuproStahlo year just
past iu tho lumber business, the woods
men have gono in swarms from Bangor,
no usual, this winter, to cut spruce ami
pine on tho upper Penobscot, One in
ducement to the lumbermen to operate
is the low cost of provisions, it being
possible to board a crew of mon 20 to 25
per cent, cheaper than a year ago.
Labor also is low, as tho Priuco Edward
Jshmd boys have ponred into Bangor by
I hr hundred this season looking for em
ployment, and they have put wages
down nnd kept them tliero. Think of a
stout young man swinging an ax all
winter for $10 to $15 a month nnd his
board. Theso are tho wnges accepted
by many of tho Prince Edward Island
loggers. Tliero was a time iu tho days
of big pines, near by, when n woodsman
was looked upon as a man who hail
leurned a trado.
Many people havo qnocr ideas of how
loggers livo in tho woods. They build
u Damn immediately, if there is not ono
already near tho sccno of their work,
afid are seldom moro than a day about
it. Tho camp is simply a log house,
with low sides and steep-pitched roof. 1
The chinks of tho walls aro filled in with j
mud, moss, aud leaves, anil a high bank
ing of earth or snow reaoui's almost to
tbb eaves ontsido. The entranoo is
in ono end, auil tho only window is in
the opposite end. The oook aud his as
sistant havo a sort of pauty partitioned
off at tho window end, nnd thero aro
wood and provision storerooms on either
side of the entrance. Tho romaimler of
tho building forms ono room. On ono
side is a long couch mado of boughs,
hay or straw, covered with heavy quilts
and blankets, on whloh tho men sleep in
a row. On tho opposito side is a long
table, made of small logs, hewn smooth
on top, on which tho food is served. In
front of it is a big log hewn out for a
settee, and called the doacon seat. The
men, when dono eating, have only to
tarn around in their seat to toast their
shins at a big fire of logs, which glows
imii a' small voeiiuol in the midst of all,
and sends its smoke and sparks through
a hole in tho roof, six feet Bquare, the
draft being aided by a roof-tree.
Tho fare is plain and monotonous,
but wholesome and substantial. Pork
aud beans, bread and molasses, and
pork fat, the latter used for butter, make
up a breakfast at snuriso. Then tho
crew go to work, and, if near by the
camp, they come buck at 12 o’clock for
dinner, which is beans and pork, with
perk scraps and doughnuts. The men
work until it is too dark to tell a hem
lock from a sprnco, and then oome back
to eat a supper of the same viands,
varied with dried apple-snnoo. Fish is
served onoe or twi6e a week. The bev
erage is cheap tea.
Evenings and Sundays aro passed in
tolling wonderful yarns, singing ear-
splitting songs, anil smoking. Iu some
camps t Je men play curds, and gamble
for tobacco, clothing, and even wages.
The 'foods beans are tho test of all
bakod beans, and put Boston in the
shade. Thoy aro cooked in an iron pot
placoil in a pit surrounded by livo coals
and covered tightly with earth over
night. In the morning they aro done
to a turn. No range can compete with
the bean hole of tho woods.
Tho woodsmen range iu ago from 16
to 65, dress in heavy woolen or knit un
derwear, cheap ready-made olothes,
cloth or knitted caps, moccasins, and
many socks aud mittens. They work on
an average four mouths, oome ont as
fat as bears, and with from $50 to $150
duo them. Thoy spend the money, aud
then aro ready to work on the river or
go driving.
Eveuy Day.—An old broken-down
gambler of Paris may be seen daily
promenading in the shabbiest attire,
with a mapiuiffeont white oamelia in his
button-hole. Some years ago ho won a
great deal of money and determined to
nialce sure that ho should always be sup
plied with ms favorite flower. He there
fore paid a largo sum in cash to his
florist who agreed to supply him with
a white camelia every day for the rest
of his life. And now the decayed old
sport struts up and down tho boulevards
with a camelia v/ortu moro than tho
coat which it adorns.
Cost Too Muon.—A lady of refine
ment nnd well dressed entered one of our
principal grocery stores a few days ago
and ordered a quantity of sugar of suoli
quality us had been advertised at very
low figures. She said that she had
bought a barrel of the same grade a
short timo ago, but us it had cost her
nn.re than was now asked she had con-
eiuded to wait until tho price advanced
b fore using it. She had an eye open to
economy, but hardly knew where to
ixxnmeoce.
TWO BRAVE YOUNG GIRLS.
Ilim Till-* lii-rulscd n Cnn* of It urn In r»
until I rirnili t'uiiio to ilto Kr*i*ue>.
STRAY BITS OF HUMOR
Two young ladies, the Misses Idaho
and Jeanne Guthrie, living a fow miles
east of Eric, Pa., hail a thrilling experi
ence with a baud of masked burglars.
The sisters had boon left iu olinrgo of
their home, their parents, Mr. and Mrs.
Iilisha Guthrie, having been decoyed to
Jamestown, N. Y., by a spurious dis
patch, and soon after dark four masked
men knocked at the door aud demanded
admittance. The house being strong
and well secured owing to its lonely sit
uation, the girls resolved to stand tho
siege. They barricaded tho doors aud
windows with furniture, a precaution al
most uunecesNsry owing to tho strength
of the looks, bolts, and bars with which
the lower part of the house was secured.
Tho burglars tried every horrible threat
that suggested Itself to induce the young
ladies to surrender, but the hereto girls
held out rosolutely. Tho mou com
menced to file away the staples or Viars
of a lower window, which had the effect
of greatly terrifying though not of sub
duing the fair defenders. Their yuuug-
cr brother, Henry, was absent at tho
home of a schoolmate named Higgins,
between whoso houso nud the Guthrie
home whs tolcgrnphio connection,tho two
boys hnving fixed the wires and butteries
for the purpose of studying telegraphy.
Miss Jeanne, who hnd also acquired a
knowledge of telegraphy, rushed to her
brother’s room aud frantically called him
up, iu the hope of transmitting intelli
gence of thoir danger aud obtaining help
from tho Higgins folks. Bnt to their
dismay there wuh no response to thuir
calls, and it was evidont thot Henry bad
loft, nnd was on bis way homo, which
was tho case, his friond accompanying
him part of tho way. In the moantimo,
I he burglars had suocooiled in partially
cutting away the fastenings, and the
girls began to lose all hope. In tho dis-
! iinee they eonld see tho light of their
yonng brother’s lantern, os he came
across the fields, a circumstance that in
tensified their terror, believing the vil
lains would kill him. Ia their telegraph
studios they hod practiced signaling or
conversing in many ways with flags and
lights. With a small magio-lantern
light, plaoed in an upper window, they
Hucoecded in attraeting Henry’s atten
tion tjnd in making known their peril.
The boy hastened back for holp, and
two of the ruffians were captured, one of
whom has confessed that the schome to
rob the houso was planned by the
uophew of Mr. and Mrs. Guthrie, ono
Ed Camper, who had manufactured the
desoy telegram.
Alleged Penitentiary Abases.
Oil ABU ICS OB INHUMANITY WHICIT nAVK
CAUSED A SENSATION IN TENNESSEE.
FOUND IN TIIK ll|!IMII(IMT« COI.BHJW
OF OUK K.XI IIANUKM.
Nnl inn Frnsh—W linrn InlMfM CiMtil-A
Holier Imtlun-Tlir Wlnlgk Unlls -On •
Car. Klc.
A fow days ago tho Nashville Banner
published a report of Dr. E. D. Kim,
chairman of tho Oommittco on Prisons
and State Board of Health of Tennessee,
making a severe criticism on tho present
penitentiary system, Tho Banner In
dulged in somo strong editorial com
ments upon the system -os represented
in Sim’s report and was sued for $60,000
for an alleged libel, and two of its pro
prietors indicted by the Grand Jury.
The Banner insists that its assertions
cun be sustained by proof, and publishes
an interview with Dr. J. W. lteed, rep
resentative from Campbell comity.
Dr. lteed said the convicts at the coal
mines have been cruelly treated; that
he and Drs. Smith aud Britton had dis
sected tho body of a convict four hours
after death; that it was customary to
lurnish physicians with dead convicts,
aud that bo never knew the body of a
convict to be buried. Ho also says the
| convicts are whipped unmercifully. Hick
i ,.r well, if any fail to complete tho task
et for them they are whipped.
He continued: “I have known some
to ho so sick that they could not com
plete their task, and others have volun
teered to help them out to keep them
from having tho lash applied to them,
i remember that not long ago the bank
boss foroed some convicts to go into a
mine when it was suspected to bo on fire.
He refused to go himself, but pushed
the convicts in and two of them wero
killed. One was blown seventy yards
aud crushed to death. There has not
been a single charge brought against the
penitentiary system that oahnot be
oroved.”
Doesn’t Know.—There is a young
man in Allentown, Pa., tho Register
says, who is quite a ladies’ man, knows
all the Bteps in dancing, nud is up in
the fushions, and is otherwise accom
plished, who, when nsLcd to name the
President’s Cabinet, could not name a
single member, nor eonld he say who
wero the Senators from Pennsylvania.
We are afraid there am lots like him
hero and elsewhere.
NOT TO BB OUTDONX.
At rotaluma, a Rmall milk-can station
on tlio Napa road, a fervent appeal wa*
made last Sunday l» tlio pastor of the
proposed church thorn for funds to build
H aiil eiltfloo. Not a cow-puncher moved.
Tho entire congregation of toatnqnocEen
Boemed wrapped in slumber. As the
minister gazed mournfully around a hen
suddenly flew ont of tho old plug hal
used as a contribution box, making r
terrific cackling.
Tho pastor approached the hat and
behold a now-laid egg.
Holding up tlyi hen frnit, heexolaimed
sarcastically:
“She has contributed her alL Will
yon allow yourselves to be outdone by a
hen ?” ^
The effect wns electrical!
In less than twenty minute* thero was
over forty-five cents hi the pooh—Aar
IVaneUeo Post.
tub si.rinn nzi.iA
Bio sIo'kIi boll* tinkle merrily,
Tim mooli shin r sold anil bright,
Ami tilarlbull’s IiuirIi olieeritjr
RIiik* out upon tlio tilRht.
The grind anil uiackla of tho snow
Is mnsia to lu-r car,
Bhe only think* “How fast wn go I”
Nor bus aim otro nor fi sr;
Happy behind tlio flying-pan
Alio *l'» beside ln-r Will,
Who think* “1 wonder if I can
Got trailed for tho bill?"
—Ikuton PotL
NO HYMITOMH.
Mother—Are you quito snre, dear,
that young Featherly is not fond of
you? Ho certainly seemed very de
voted lost night when ho buttoned yonr
glove.
Daughter—Ah, yes, mother ; but hi*
hand never trembled.
A MATTRIt OF INTEREST.
“Ob, Mr. Smith,” said a yonng ladj
at a ohuroh fair, “I want yonr help for r
mara-ivA/’ ' . ,<
"Certainly," replied Mr. Smith,
“what can I do.for yon?*;
“I Lave just sold a tidy for |15 that
cost fifteen cents, and I want yon to tef
me what percentage that is."
“A traqsaotion of that kind, my deal
Mib* B.,” said Mr. Smith, who ia .a law
yer, “get* ont of percentage and iota
larceny. "—Drake’s Magazine.
A FOZitiOWBII.
An Amerioau strolled intd a fashion
able church just before tho *ervioes bo-
gan. The sexton fallowed him up, ami
tupping him on the shoulder, and point
iug to a small our Unit Lad followed bin
into tho sacred edifice, sajl:
“Doffs are not admitted.”
“That’s not my dog,” replied tht
visitor. •».-
"Bnt ho follows yon." •'
"Well, so do you.”
Tho sexton growled, and removed th.
dog with unnecessary violence.
A BLACK EYE.
“Johnnie, have you been fighting?*
gravely inquired Mrs. Muggins,
“No, ma’am,” promptly answered the
heir of the Mugginses,
“John Muggins; how dare yon tell me
an untiuth I” exclaimed his mother.
“Where did you get thatblaok eye,sir?"
“I traded another boy two front teetti
and a broken nose for it," replied John
nie an lie crossed the woodpile.—AY.
Louis Pont.
THE INDIAN WAS SOIIKB.
The other day a rrtther fresh tonriBt
got off the cars at a way station on the
Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe. Heated
on a stone, with a dirty blanket wrapped
around him, was an aborigine. Ho had
on moccasins and wore a Hculp look, and
was just such a wild Indian as the imag
inative tonrist desired to meet The
latter danoeil before him, waved aD in#
palpable tomahawk in the air, gave a
whoop and yelled:
“Big Injun? Great chief? Wah !”
Tho buck grunted.
“Killnm heap I Heap scalp ?” shouted
iLo tourist. Again the book granted
find looked surprised.
“Where’s wigwam? Love pale faoe ?’’
“What in thunder are you talking
*bout?” said the buck. “Are you
drunk V”—Pittsburg Chronicle.
DAVE WAS tuomi.
“Well, Dave, you got elected, aftei
all, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did.”
“It was a mighty tight squeeze,
though, wasn’t it ?”
“It was, for a fact”
“Took a heap of hard work, didn't
it?”
“No, not such an awful sight, but it
took just oceans of behaving.”—Chicago
ledger,