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THE CHEROKEE ADVANCE.
N OLUALIi VI.
EXAMINE 1IOW YOUR HUMOR IS INCLINED, AND WHICH THE RULING PASSltON OF YOUR MIND.’
CANTON, GEORGIA. FRIDAY, MORNING. APRIL 17, 1885,
NUMBER 16.
VER SIFXCA TION.
Ah bright as the golden Jimo weather
('ami. Rose with her prayer-book and fan
Through tho church door, and homeward to-
Kether
Wo walked, and my wooing began.
She chatted of anthem and sermon—
I thought of her lips and blue eves—
fit her light dainty step in the Qerman—
Till vaguer became my replies.
Ah I vainly endeavored to fashion
Some phrase that should fitly express,
Or hint of, that burden of passion
Which sho, alas 1 seemed not to guess.
Hut we paused on the bridge, whoso giay
arches
Look down on tho bridge in tho hrook,
And there in the shade of the larches
Her little gloved fingers I took.
And said: “Hose, you've boon kissed In a
sonnet
In which I my emotions rehearso,"
When a voice 'neath tho pretty pink bonnet
Murmured: '‘Darling, I am not a-vorse."
-Ktft.
Tlie Letter.
■ "Any letters?” asked the Widow
Wadsworth, turning from tho grocery
counter of tho “store” of Kornhill to tho
■corner by tho window over which swung
a placard bearing the legend "Post of-
fico” upon it, and glancing through her
spectacles at the small row of candy jars
which were made to do duty ns letter
holders. “Any letters for onr house
Air. Bristol?"
Mr. Bristol, the senior of that name—
who was too rhenmatio to weigh grocer
ies or measure calico, was os deaf as a
post, had, perhaps, the least natural
talent for tho rending of dnbions script
that could be found in the person of any
living man; and, besides this, could
stover ilnd his spectacles—roused himself
from a nap in which he had been in
dulging, looked bewildered, and seemed
for a moment dubious ns to what he
should do next; but seeing that Mrs.
Wadsworth’s oyea were fixed upon tho
■candy jars, decided that she wanted a
letter, and, reaching up, slowly took two
of ihem down and, with muoh delibera
tion, spread them before her like a pack
<>f cards.
“I’vo put my specks some’rs,” he Baid,
’"but where I dunno. Look ’em oyer
and sort ont what’s yourn, Mrs. Wads
worth.”
This was old Mr. Bristol’s usual stylo*
of performing the business of postmaster.
And as it was an honest place, little
barm came of it. Often people oarried
their neighbors’ letters to them when
they happened to pass their gates, and
the only registered letter that ever yet
haH been sent to Kornhill was consid
ered an insult to the oommunity at large.
"They might ha’ known no one would
ha’ meddled with it,” said the post
master.
And the farmers talked the matter
over as they jogged home side by side in
their wagons, and the summer boarder
who did the strange thing was made to
feel tho indignation of her hostess. But
that was long after the evening on which
Mrs. Wadsworth asked if there wore any
letters for "her house.”
Peering over the little row spread be
fore her, she saw that there was one—a
small envelope—addressed in a delioate
lady’s hand to "James Wadsworth, j
Esq.”
"That’s Jim," said the old lady
“Who can have writ to him ?”
There were no more. She put her
single epistle in her pooket, pushed the
rust toward Mr. Bristol and nodded at
him. Mr. Bristol nodded in reply, re-
jarred the letters, perched himself upon
a stool and went to sleep again. Then
♦he younger Bristol helped the old lady
into her wagon, handed in her basket of
groceries, and she drove away,
with tho letter in her pocket, and a
queer feeling, half fear and half anger,
at her heart as she said over and over
again, talking aloud to herself, as the
old white horse plodded along the lonely
road:
"Who has ’writ to Jim, 1 wonder?”
Maggie, tho "help," oame out to
carry in the basket, when Mrs. Wads
worth stopped at her own gate, and she
herself walked into the kitchen.. There
was a great stove there, and on it the
kettle was boiling, steam rushing from
its spont in one long stream, and creep
ing in a flat sheet from tinder the cover.
Before this stove Mrs. Wadsworth stood
and warmed her hands.
"I wonder who has writ to Jim,” she
said. "If I thought it was that girl I’d
throw it into tho fire. ”
Then a story she had heard of some
one who had feloniously opened an en
velope by holding it over the steam of
a tea-kettle occurred to her mind.
"I wonder whether it would open that
way," she said. "It couldn’t bo any
great harm just to satisfy mysolf that it
isn’t from her. Jim is but a boy, and I
am his mother. I guess, according to
laWi I’d have a right. I ought to, any
how.”
Then the hand whieh hold tho letter
outstretched itself, Tho stream of steam
bent against tbe flap of the envelope.
In a moment or so, it hung loose and
limp and wet in her hands."
"I’ll go and put my bonnet away,”
she said, in an unnatural sort of tone,
and hurried upstairs.
"I nm his mother," she said again, ns
she sat down in her rocking-chair and
drew tho letter from tho envelope. “It’s
right I shgnld know."
Then she oast her eyo over tho writ
ing. There was not much of it. Just
this:
"Dear James: I know, after my con
duct, it is my place to write first. I wav
naughty. Uieaso forgivo me. Isn’t that
humble enough? And if you do, come
and take mo to the picnic to-morrow.
"Your own
“NELLY.”
"It is from that girl,” said Mrs.
Wadsworth. "It’s from her. Aud
things havo gone so far, aud ho hasn't
told his mother a word I Oh, how hard
it is to boar I That girl I don’t want
Jim to marry; but of all girls, that one 1”
and slio rocked herself to and fro.
"There’s been a quarrel,” she said at
last, "and she’s written this lo make up.
If he never got it, he'd 1 never sponk. I
know his pride. She como of n poor
lot. I hate her; she's a bad wife for
Jim. I think it’s my duty not to givo it
to him. I’ll think it over.” Then bIio
opened the drawer of her bureau in
which she kept valuables and money
and thrust the letter in and looked it up.
She had time to think the matter over
before Jim camo in, for he was late, and
"that girl” grew more distasteful to her
every foment,
"Going to tho picnio, Jim?” she
asked, as they sat over thoir tea. And
Jim answered that he hadn’t thought of
't.
"I’d go if I was yon, and take your
Cousin Miranda," said the old lady-
"She expects it, I gnoss.” And Jim,
only moved by tho remembranoe of Nel
lie Barlow 1 , aud n wish to make her jenl.
ous, agreed to the proposition. Ee took
Miranda to the pionio next day, and Nel
lie was there, and saw them together;
and remembering her note, written in a
moment of softncsB,when the wish tore-
call certain angry words she had said to
Jim, was strong npon her, she grew siok
with shame. Sho had hold out her hand
in reconciliation, aud he had not taken
it. Could anything make a woman more
indignant? After that sho never even
looked at him.
Old Airs. Wadsworth having kept
Jim’s letter a few days, felt that too
muoh explanation would be necessary
were sho to givo it to him after so long
a delay. Besides it would be well for
her son that he should not seo it. Ho
would, of course, marry his cousin Mi
randa—only a second cousin—a girl sho
liked, and who would never set herself
up above her mother-in-law—a girl who
did not, like poor Nellie, look aggrava-
tingly stylish,
But Jim did not marry Miranda. No
one will ever know now whether Aliranda
would have accepted him or not. After
awhile she married a Mr. Wiseman, who
was bettor off than Jim, and old enough
to be his father; and Nelly, too, mar
ried. While her heart burnt with re
sentment ngainst, her old lover, she
chose a new one, a dark, moody, silent
sort of man, who oarried her away to
the city, whenoo there came rumors now
and then that she was not happy, that
her husband led a wild life. Once
some one declared that ho wa3 a very
madman in his jcnlousy, and looked her
in her room at times. But no one
knew whether it was trne or not. Her
parents would never say anything about
her.
As for James Wadsworth, he had
gone to church to see her married ana
had gone home with a headaohe. The
next day ho was delirious; a brein fever
had set in and the doctors shook their
heads over him, Wnat’ne said in his
delirium only his mother understood 1
out if she could havo undone tho deed
that she had done, sho would havo
thanked Heaven. For weeks he lay at
death’s door, aud then a pale shadow
crept about the house—the wreck of
bright, handsome Jim Wailsworth. His
beauty was gone, and no one felt quite
sure about his mind. He answered
sensibly enough when he was spoken to,
but voluntarily he nover spoke.
After awhile he grew strong enough to
do farm work, and did what his mother
suggested, and she grew used to his al
tered ways. Aud so matters rested
when, ten years from her wedding-day,
Nelly oame back to her father’s homo in
a widow’s oap. And tho people of
Kornhill learnt that her husband was
dead, and began to wonder whether he
had left her money.
Jim, plowing in the adjoining field,
saw her as she sat upon the old home
stead porch, and stood, for a moment,
staring at nor. TbOH lie left his plow in
in the furrow, his • horses standing
where they were, and went home. His
mother saw him coming. He tramped
over tbe beds of vegetables, and trod
down the young oorn. He sought no
path. As the bee flies he sought tha
doorway at which his mother Htood
staring at him, and walked into tbo
kitchen past her without a look.
"Jim, my boy,” said the old womau,
"what is it?”
■ Ho mado her no nnswor; but wont to
his room and straight to bod. For
bours be never spoka to lior. Then he
began to babble. Ho utterod Nelly’s
name; he reproaohed her with incon
stancy; he oallod her tender names in
one breath and cursed her in the next.
Then he gave one wild ory and Hpiw'g
up in his bed aud dropped back again,
with his eyes staring toward hoavou.
Hp was dead; the mother knew that be
fore they told her se.
The next day a ooffln stood in the
low-coiled parlor, and in it lay a p.w
statue with closed oyes—all that was
left of Jim Wadsworth. Ono by one
the friends aud neighbors came softly in
to look at him, aud wont away more
softly, often in tears. At last oame one
woman—a fair woman, in a widow’s
cap rfnd veil who stood longer than the
rest looking at tho still, white faoe, aud
at her own request was left alone with
it, while onrious people in the other
room wondered whether it was true that
Nelly and Jim were once ongagod and
had quarreled. For this was Nelly, in
her widow’s weeds, who had oome to
look at Jim for the last time.
As she stood there, with thoughts for
which there was no words trooping
through her mind, an inner door opened
and an old woman crept in. It was
Airs. Wadsworth, broken down at last,
and with the strange, restless light of
an unsettled intellect in her light blue
oyes.
She held au old letter in her hand,
aud it rustled as she slowly orossed tho
rooip and stood beside the ooffln,
"Jim,” said she, "here’s your letter.
I’ve been thinking it over, and since
yon take it so bard, you’d better have
it. I only kep’ it for your own good,
Jim. She ain’t the girl for yon; but you
take it so hard. Wako up, Jim; hero’s
your letter.”
But the wbito, frozen hands lay still
upon the breast, aud other small, living
woman’s hands grasped it instoad.
Nelly knew all the story now.
"Here is your letter, Jim,’’ sho whis
pered. "Oh, Jim, Jim,” and she laid
it softly under tho white flowers upon
the bosom, and, stooping, kissed the
waxen hands and brow. "Oh, Jim,
Jim I” she said again, and let her black
veil down over her face, and went her
way; and the gossips who stared after
her as she passed down the village
street, wondered again if she bad over
been engaged to Jim Wadsworth, but
none of them ever knew. The grave
keeps its secret, so also does a woman’s
heart
The Physical Year.
There continues to be a great deal of
uneasiness among the department peo
ple about changes, says a Washington
letter writer. Perhaps there is no class
of employees in the departments who
are more disturbed than the colored
people. The oolorod employees of the
Government are the aristocrats of theii
society. Some of them have acoumu
iated fine properties. I know of on
colored messenger who has fonr or fiv
sons in the departments. The family
all live together in one house. Theii
aggregate salaries must reaoh ove
#fi,000 a year. The ancient cook o
Qen. Sheridan well illustrates this pan
icky feeling Rmong the members of hei
raoe. “Aunt Alary” has been Sheri
dan’s cook for a long period. When he
left Chicago he set her up in a small
shop there. Her daughter married one
of the messengers in the War Depart
ment. She recently cjme on to visit hei
married daughter. She has been in
Washington now about two weeks. The
other day she expressed her opinion on
the situation to a lady friend of Gen,
Sheridan’s. Aunt Mary said : "Gen,
Sheridan, he is all right and 1 was pow
erful glad of it. Dese yer Democrat!
uau’t get him ont no how, but all di
odder niggers will have to go by do end
of de physical vear.’’
A Level Head.—A California papei
tells this story : Said an Indian lo a
white man: '‘You go to party at Inde-
: pendence ?” "No,” said the white man;
| "I am broke aud can’t go.” "What for
'you talk so?” said the Indian; “you
work all time, earn money; what for you
j no keep him V Somo time I broke too,
; buy whiHky, drink him np, money all
! gone. Now no drink long time, work,
; plenty money,, no broke; you do all same,
no broke toe. ”
A REAL LIFE NOVEL
(IK HAM NK1TII Fit MUItllKRKn NOR A
MU It OK Hit It.
A ntvulrrv nl Iho PcntiMvIvtittln I.umber
Woods Onrxpecrnlly Solved.
Capt. C. Cutler, of Clarion Alills, Pa.,
purchased ;v ticket for Omaha, and as lie
did so said:
"That ticket,” said ho, "is for a man
who for twenty yenrs has believed him
self to be a murderer fleeing from jus-
tioo. and whose friends, on the other
hand, havo for twenty years thought lie
was tho victim of the man whom ho him
self believed ho had murdered. Hi*
name is Alexander Baer, and it was only
ft few weeks ago that he found out tliul
ho was not a xfiurderer.
"Baer,worked for rue iu 1803. He
Was paying attention to a girl named
Hathaway, and I think they were en
gaged to be married. She was a ser
vant at the lumbermen’s boarding-house
in the fall of that year a good-looking
young Scotchman by tho name of Giay
Cameron came to my mills to work.
He belonged somewhere in Steuben
county, New York. Ho soon cut Aleck
Floor out with the Huthawny girl, and
tie result was that the two heeamo
bitter enemies. They worked iu tho
same logging oamp.
"One day iu tho winter of 1804 Cam
eron came to the settlement with a
bloody face. Ho said that he and Baer
bad got into a quarrel over the Hatha
way girl and had oome to blows. Baer
had knocked him senseless with n olub,
aud when he came to bo was unable to
flud his rival. Baer hod not appeared
iii the'settlement, and was not soon again
about any of the camps. As Uaor hud
nearly $200 due him from our company,
a|d had left #100 in liis trunk at the
hoarding house, his disap|>earanoe had
ait air of mystery about it that puzzled
an, The suspicion was pretty general
■ r
lead to liis detection, Baer traded it ofi
to Perry for a east-off coat he was wear-
ng. Terry lmd told Baer that l/o was
going to cross the ieo at the eddy above
on his way to Grotty’s Mills. He had
undoubtedly broken through or stopped
iufo an air-hole and was drowned, and
his body, with the remnants of bier's
plaid coat on, was the one the boys
found the next spring.
"Baer went to Pittsbnvgu, whore he
enlisted in the army, under an assumed
name. After the war ho went to California
mid other Western States, nover having
heard a word from the mills or settle-
ment sineo he fled until tho latter part of
last Deoemlier. Then he mot, in Den
ver, a man named Philip Craig, who was
working for me at the time of tho sup
posed murder. They recognized one an
other, and Craig told Baer tho story of
the affair, greatly to his astonishment
Hid relief. Baer worked his way gradu
ally East, to revisit the old scene and
set things right. The Hathaway girl,
over whom the two men quarreled, was
STRAY BITS OF HUMOR
FOUND IN YI1K III mmol’* UOLCMNS
OF OUU EXCHANGE*.
A Present Inr Jimmie—A IWIsrnnnl—Nr*.
Irclrd Work—It OnsTlinr t*«A»l *ws»-
A llnndr llii.bund. I£lc.. Kir.
A rilFMKNT von JIMMUk
"Oh, Jimm-moe-eo-ea t”
"Wotelier want?”
"Yer oomos yor daddy !”
"Wot’s ho doin’ ?”
“Lookin' for you 1"
"Wot’s ho want?"
"He’s got somethin' nice fur ye I"
"Wot is it?"
"Dnnno I Looks like somethin' k
rido on. Kind o' long and slim aud
sliek-liko, liko as ef he’d peeled tho bark
ofTii it.”
Jimmio dives into the creek with his
clothes ou and strikes out for yondei
point accoutered ns he was. He was
playing "hookey,” and ho "had rode”
on one of them things tiefore. It would
married in 18(17, and died last year.’ Her ,>e * raw da F when
seventeen 1 got left. -Bubdbti*.
Ii oi iu the fight between him and Oam-
eyw, the Scotchman had killed his rival
*-j; fairfvl of th« jMuspqnenoev tuw\-
sectetod his bodv. Cameron was aware hers of yffir family, The owlek ob»T
'secreted bis body. Cameron was aware
of these suspicions, and offered to pay
for the fullest investigation of tho affair
and all the expouscs of a search for the
whereabouts of the missing lumberman.
He employed an officer to follow every
possible clue lie oould find that might
lead to the clearing up of the mystery,
but nothing could he learned.
"When the ice broko up in the spring,
somo boys who were fishing for suokers
in the north branch of tho river were at
tracted by a peculiar-looking object that
camo along with some ioo, and they
drew it into tho shore with a pike pole.
On dragging it ont they saw that it was
the half-olothed body of a man. They
hurried to the lumber camp and told tho
men at work there what they had found.
The flesh was entirely missing from tho
face and head of the dead man, aud rec
ognition of the features was impossible.
There wero remnants of a plaid coat, or
jacket, on the body. Alexander Baer
was the only one in tho region who had
worn such a coat Tho plaid was made
by broad stripes of green and black.
An inquest was hold, at which the re
mains were deolnred to be those of the
missing lumberman. The finding of
the dead body aroused anew the suspi
cions that he had been killed by Cam
eron. The verdict of the Coroner’s jury
was that the man had como to his death
in a manner unknown.
"Baer’s friends demanded the arrest
of Cameron. A warrant was issuod, and
Cameron ran away. Every ono then be
lieved he was guilty of Baer’s murder.
Ho was pursued and captured, but while
he was being taken to tho county seat he
escaped from the officer and was never
recaptured. It was believed that he en
listed in the army, and a soldier in tho
Bixty-seventh Pennsylvania Regiment
sent home the news in 1865 that he had
seen the dead body of Cameron among
those who had died in Libby prison. At
all events, nothing else was ever hoard
of the alleged murderer, and the inci
dents connected with tho tragedy were
gradually forgotten.
“A few days ago a stranger appeared
at the Clarion Mills and asked for mi.
To my great surprise he told me he was
the missing Alexander Baer, and hosno
needed in establishing his identity be
yond a doubt. He told a singular story.
He said that Cameron’s version of their
fight was trne. When he knocked Cam
eron senseless with the club, he became
frightened and tried to revive him. JFail-
ing in this, he believed he had killed his
rival, and, withont » thought of any
thing else, fled from the place to escape
the consequences of his crime. He met
on the edge of the camp a man named
Perry, who was in the habit of making
occasional visits to the lumber regions
for the purpose of buying up waste and
rags of all kinds. Tho mau was very
drunk. Knowiug that if he was adver
tised his conspicuous plaid coat would
sou, a strapping chopper,
years old, works for me at the milla now. ,
Baer worked a day in tho old place, hut
concluded ho preferred to go book
West, and lie’s going ou this ticket. *’
Mr. Evurls and the Elocutionist.
Evarls is a jolly old follow, very
Hjwirtivo at times when It will do to re
lax liis dignity, and much given to
joking when safo from publio observa
tion. It wus Evurta’a habit of juuin-
taining a sedate visago that made Ifis
treatment of an audacious and self-com
placent young woman cffoctivoly ornsh-
ing.
"I have mode bold to coll on you,
Air. Evnrte," she noid, "because l felt
sure yon could appreciate tho services
which I could rondor to your children."
As lie lian eleven <f them, lie felt
bound to listen lo any proposition that
purported to bo beneficial to them.
"I would liko an engagement to in
tinned. "I oaa very clever, indeed, and
am nconstomod to reoite for houra every
day.”
“It may be said to hove bocome
chronic," the lawyer interposed,
"Oh, I suppose so,” and the elocu
tionist wns rndianf,
"Well, now,” und hero lie beonmo ap
parently introspootivo, ns he does when
formulating his long sentenoea, "tho
theorios and pruotioog of my household,
in sofar us they seem to bo pertinent to
tho employment of an entertaining in
structor, or wo may say—I assume with
out any misconception of your proposi
tion or offense to your Holf-osteom—a
governess for the children, are bused on
the utmost feasible degree of tolerance
and charity. It is in my memory that
we onoo had a lame nursemaid whose
limp, though it may have been as rhyth
mic os a oradlo to tho infant iu her
arms, was certainly not pleasing to tho
observer less intimately related to it.
And I recall a coachman of ours who
occupied years of service in dying of a
deformity distressing lo tbo view. But
in both eases tho misfortune overtook
these individuals while in our employ, as
they had como to ns in norma! aud
healthy conditions, and wo felt boulid to
endure them to the end; but I hardly
think that we should bo culled upon to
hire a governess already in an advanced
state of elocution, who is doubtless in
curable, and with whom the most ideal
oharity would not demand that wo
should jointly suffer.”—Chicago Inter-
Ocean.
Uolonna-Mackay.
WKDDINO CELEBRATED WITH
TIFIOAL HIGH MASS.
Miss Eva Maokay was married in
Paris to Don Ferdinand jTnlien Golonna,
P . ice of Galatro. The ceremony wan
private and was performed with pontif
ical higli mass by Mgr. de Rcnde, the
Papal Nuncio, in the Nuncio's Chapel in
Paris. The nnptial benediction was ad- 1
ministered by Mrg. do Reude, who also j
delivered the m iage address. Tho j
civil ceremony of marriage, which is re
quired by thfj French law, was per- 1
formed the day before. The witnesses
to this wore Piince Golonna Doria, i
Prince Colomia, United States Minister !
Morton and Duke Deeazes.
After the celebration of the religious |
rite Mrs. Alackay, the mother of th<}
bride, gave a grand bridal reoeption, 1
which in every respect must rank with I
the most magnificent festival of French
history. The reception was especially
distinguished by the quality of the
guests, among whom were included
about every person of distinction and
worth in French society. Conspiouons
among these wero General the Comte
Menabrea, Italian Ambassador to
France; Count Gamondo and Mme,
i Wyse-Bonaparte.
A MISCOUNT.
"Alammn,” cries little Edith, "dlts
mo anudilor date, p’easo.”
"Well,” says mamma, "yon go and
ask Bridget for one—only one, remam-
lier—and you may get two for Alamio"
(an older sistor).
Presently Edith comes book.
"Mamma," she says, "I think Bridget
made a mistake and davo mo two dates
Air myself and o’ly ono for Mamie.”—
Ronton Transcript.
TIME TO OUT A WAT.
"Hello, book from New Orleans so
quick?” ,
"Yes."
"Couldn’t yon find any quarters
there ?’’
"No; and the quarters I took with ms
wont so fast that I wouldn’t have lmd
one left to pay the Pullman porter if F
hadn’t left when I did.”—Arkatuaw
Traveller.
Boone i& the bondoir offti Hartford
belle :
Thoughtful Mamma — "Well, dear,
which gentleman have you selected for
your husband ?’’
Dutiful Daughter—"Oh, I think 1*11
take Mr. Fatboy.”
“Bill, dour, Mr. Littleman is very
jmjli, while your choico is very poor.”
"Yes, my choioe is very poor, it is
truo; but lie is so big and stout he will
lie just spleudid to sit ou the Bible and
press winter lenves.”
"Oh, I see. You wfll not bo influ
enced by a monetary consideration.”
"No; I marry for love alone,”—Hart
ford Sunday Journal.
felt noimn with it.
A lady was singing at n concert, and
her voice was, to say the least, very thin
in planes.
"Ah,” said her husband, who after the
manner of husbands who havo musical
wives, thought her vocal power* were
grea*, "what a fine voice she has I”
"Very fine,” replied a strange num at
his side.
"What timbre!" continued the hus
band.
"Considerable timber,” responded the
stranger again, "but too many oraoksin
it for weather-boarding, and not quite
enough for a paling fence.”
The husband remained silent daring
tho concluding portions of tho entertain
ment.—Cincinnati Merchant Traveler.
THE EXPRESS AftH.
"I would lie obliged to you,” said s
olosofistod old fellow to a country editor,
"ii you will express my thanks, through
your excellent paper, to tho many
citizens whose timely aid lost night saved
my house from being destroyed by fire.”
"Certainly,” replied the editor, "I will
express your thanks, but it will be neces
sary for yon to advance about a dollar
aud a half to prepay the express aao.”
DIDN’T LIKE TO HAVE HER WAY.
“1 tell you I shall do^as I please 1’
shouted Mrs. Aliff.
"Well, well, my dear. I didn’t saj
yon couldn’t,” replied Air. Miff.
"And you can’t stop me !!”
"I didn’t say I could, my dear.”
"You’d hotter not try !! 1”
“Indeed, indeed, my dear, I won’t.’
"That’s just all such a brute caret
about liis wife 111!” and Mrs. Miff pro
pared to cry her eves out.
CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE.
"Charley has ,m awful long aim,” saio
Bertha, in a musing mood at the break
fast table. "How do you know ?” asked
her father, in man like simplicity.
"Why," replied Bertha, "my waist belt
is a—” And thou Bhe caught a glimpse
of her mamma’s horrified face glaring
over the coffeo urn, and she thought she
would die, sure enough. But she didn’t.
She only said Charley told her so.