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FARM FENCES.
Ilnur to Avoid Accidents from Barbed
WIra— Renewal of Old Board Fence*.
Heavy rail fences and expensive post
ami board barriers are largely diapl^^w)
bv barl>ed wire. Wire fences are often
made by simply stretching five or six
wires from.post to post. Such a fence
b nearly invisible, and there is danger
of animals dashing against it when run-
Postscrtpts.
, claimed by & good many people that
RUT A i STONE WAU. UNDER THE BARBED
Wilt Its.
xiiriif and becoming torn by the points.
S, netimes a partial remedy is effected
ni the one or two fence boards nailed to
tim posts to render the line visible, but
these are liable to become loosened and
detached, and a larger number of posts
is required to hold the boards.
For localities where there are many
small stones scattered in the fields, and
where it would l>e a positive advantage
to get rid of some of these in construct-
ini' a small, loose riprap wall on the
line of the fence and under the barbed
wire, these become a visible and effective
barrier. Fewer wires’ are needed, three
being sufficient where five or six are re-
quieed on level ground. If the wall is
rat her small, or if t he barrier is to be
rendered stronger and more visible, two
or race furrows may be turned from the
foot of the wall. As no animals will
wish to crowd or lean against such a-
wai; less strength is reqnired in the
p ots: and tiro stones partly supporting
tie 11, the post holes need not be dug so
lb nor are very long posts required.
It is hardly necessary to add that the
p -ts are to bo set before the line of
fctt-n ‘s is placed in position. Fig. 1 rep
resents such a fence.
In the absence of stones a small open
ditch on each side of the fence answers
squally well. The line of posts is first
let, imu then several furrows are plowed
-ft
the “gist” of a woman’s letter is more apt
to lie in the iiostecript (without which she
is popularly supposed to consider no letter
complete) than anywhere else. The author
"b * Club Corner” tells several stories
which seem to indicate that there have
been occasions on which members of the
stronger sex have made use of the post
script to convey the most important part
of the message. He says:
A spy named Palmer, sent by Sir Henry
Clinton, the British commander, had been
detected furtively collecting information
of the force and condition of the poet at
Peekskill, and had undergone a military
trial.
A vessel of war came np the Hebron in
all haste, and landed a flag of truce at Ver-
planck’s point, by which a message was
transmitted to Putnam from Clinton,
claiming the said Palmer as a lieutenant
In the British service. Putnam replied:
“Headquarters, 7th Angnst, 1777. Ed
ward Palmer, an officer in the enemy’s
service, was taken as a spy lurking within
our lines. He has been tried as a spy, and
shall be executed as a spy, and the flag is
ordered to depart immediately.
“Israel Putnam.
“P. S:—He has accordingly been exe
cuted."
Another Instance is given in the reply
sent to the bishop of Norwich In acknowl
edgment of an invitation:
“Mr. O ’s private affairs turn out so
sadly that he cannot have the pleasure of
waiting upon his lordship at his agreeable
home on Monday next.
“N. B.—His wife is dead.”
As one example of the feminine post
script the anthor mentions a young lady
who, having gone out to India, wrote home
to her friends, after a long silence, con
cluding her letter thus:
“P. S.—You will see by my signature
that I am married!”—Youth’s Companion.
beautiful, delicate, fragile vase.
The fruit of n mold that ivasquaint and olden,
flashed with the charm of a subtle grace.
And gleamed with a light that was rich aao
golden.
A blundering band and a careless blow.
And the fragile form la crushed and shat
tered; .
Its charm and its graces are lying low.
In a thousand fragments scattered.
And never again while the world shall stand
Can the wrong of that reckless blow be
righted;
Ah! uever, not rVn by an artist's hand.
Can the scattered fragments be united.
Go, paste them into their former shape.
The sears on the surface will still showtnees.
And unjoined edges will stand agape
Where once stood countless graces.
And what is my life bnt a crystal vase
That on awkward' blow has shattered and
broken?
Its former beauty no touch may retrace.
And Its wreck of its richness Is only a token.
The pieces are fitted together again.
But the tone aud the color are all unblended,
I feel, with the pang of a nameless pain.
It Is only a vase that is mended.
—William Rice Sims in New York World.
within our homes we would nse the sam-
“specks"
That we use when we visit next door.
And search for the flaws as we did over there
I think we would And many more,
we’d use the same “specks" when we look
at ourselves
That we don when our company’s near,
fear we would need what would uingaify leas.
Or astonish .-d we’d be, never fear!
BAKIIE1, WIRE FENCE WITH DITCH AND
UiNK ON EACH SIDE—SIDE VIEW.
I
Sr« “;i.s bllOWINO SETTING OF POST,
on each side as near to it as practicable,
mil the loosened earth thrown up into a
i.i bank. A second plowing and a
s- ci mil shoveling will complete the ditch
es ami bank. The wires are then placed
on ihe pouts and the fence is completed.
If the ground on each side is heavy turf
tin bank may be more narrow and steep
than one made wholly of loose earth,
which however will in time become well
h«Mwl. Two men with a two horse team
will plow the farrows and make the
hank thirty rods long, more or less, in a
day, while the reduced amount of^ wire
required and the shorter posts which
may I e us» ; d will render this fence'as
cheap as the oue with five or six wires on
level ground. The posts may be at least
«®e rod apart, if intermediate vertical
cross pieces with the lower ends nearly
reachin 0 the ground are used, to which
the wires are stapled to keep them in po
litico. Fig. 2 represents the appearance
t»f such a fence, and Fig. 3 ia a cross sec
tion the horizontal dotted line being the
inrfaoo of the gronud. Neither or these
femes will produce heavy drifts, the
winds passing through them sufficiently
freely to prevent the accumulation.
Did board fences that have become
*' ak by age and in danger of being
broken down by unruly horses may, says
r3t|
Bui I Anil nil possess (where’er they m*y live)
For their own use * kind deftly made.
With the glaaaw all darkened, lu aide half the
view.
So tbrir own faults remain In the shade.
B»ttfae ones which they use \* hen at othete
they glnDce '
Bare the glasses transparently clear.
With a power to mar nify things twice the size
That the same tlirqugb the dark ones appear.
Now I think that thb world would much hap-
pier be
If the specks, once for all, we would change.
And within our owu rooms use the spectacles
clear.
With the dark for the much broader range.
Then, tho faults that appear to us Jaggedly
rough.
Would melt into outlines so fair -
We would And that the world was a beautiful
place.
And good people lived everywhere.
—Bertha Packard Englet In Good Housekeep
ing.
—Life.
He Ashed One Question Too Many,
An old man was on the witness stand,
and was being cross examined by the law
yer.
•You-say yon are a doctor, sir?”
‘Yes, sir; yes, sic.”
‘What kind of a doctor?”
T make intments, sir. I make tnt-
ments.”
1‘What’s your ointment good for?”
“It’s good to rub on the head to strength
en the mind.”
'What effect would it have if yon were
to rub some of it on my head.*”
“None at all, sir; none at all. We mnst
have something to start with.”—Gaiusville
Eagle.
His Idea of K'<joy menu
Thiggs—If you had about <7,000,000 what
would you do with it?
Fistles—I should build the finest, hand
somest, best furnished, most elegant, mag
nificent and yet homelike residence in
Chicago.
“Then what?”
“Then I'd—I’d travel.’’—Chicago Trib
une.
Not Deep Enough for Him.
“Grasper is undoubtedly the wprst speci
men of meanness 1 ever saw.”
“What has he done now?”
“I congratulated him yesterday on the
beauty of the girl he is to marry, and the
skinflint replied, ‘Beauty is only skin
deep.’ ’’—Cape Coil Item.
Comes Over Occasionally.
Stranger (on' European railway)—Elver
been in America?
Fellow Passenger (stiffly)—I visit the
country sometimes on business, sir. Iam
the editor of a New York daily paper.—
Chicago Tribune.
TT—
-33Z
TH
J3l
—nZ
TC
0Lr> BOARD FENCE STRENGTHENED WITH
WIRE.
fbnnirv Gentleman—authority for the
foregoing—be rendered impassable by
foi- partial barbed wire aid of a single one
®Mehed on the top, as shown in Fig. 4.
sr.canimals have no disposition to rub
•ifniuat a fence of this kind or to press it,
* U <1 it remains safe and untouched^
An Original.
A child was asked what dust was, and
she said, “Dust is mud with the juice
squeezed oat.” *
The same child said that “anow was pop
ped rain."—Harper’s Bazar.
An Uphill Drive.
“How do you hold on when yon drive
up that steep bill?” asks her mother.
“Hold on to Mr. Daring,” she replied
without flinching.—Rider and Driver.
Horses In the United States.
The census bulletin places the number
“ horses in the United States in 1890 at
B hTO.Oi;. The states of Illinois, Iowa
^ Texas report over 1,000.000 each-
Mi> --- - --
*»*ouri and Kansas report 900,000 each,
he increase of horses from 1880 to 1890
*U# per cent, as against 44.69 per
tVnt - between 1870 and 1880 and 14.34
ce nt. between 1800 anil 1970. The
Vi 1 ** 81 ’ Of mules from I860 to 1890 was
W per cent.; between. 1870 h4.1880
i increase was 61.08 per cent., while
1860 to 1870 there was a decrease of
V* P“r cent. Of the aggregate nmn ber
* horses and mules in the whole country
•BJnne 1, 1890, &0.90 per cent, were
Life Settled.
A colored philosopher is reported to have
said, “Life, my breddern, am mos’ly made
up of prayin for Tain and then wiabin *
would cl’ar off.”—Presbyterian.
A Brave Child.
“Come, darling, you have eaten enough
of that cake.” . : a •••"
“Oh, mamma, I haven’t dot thetummlck
ache yeti”—Revue Roisin.
Every Man Will Say So.
Mrs. S.—They say a man never marries
his first love.MyK I ,, .
Her Hubby—He can’t. It would be
polygamy.—Funny Folks.
hursea end 13.0St yr cent, were mules.
Mixfil
-red oil,
Upside Down.
The acrobat’s lot Is an unfortunate one,
for no matter how much he makes he if
continually subject to reverses.—.Balti
more American.
THE MENDED VASE.
8PECTACLES.
A HEROIC TENDERFOOT.
on, How Short It Ia.
Nothing so vividly reminds us of the
brevity of life as a thirty day note.—Texas
Siftings.
Gum and Mul'cin
nra&wlirt* all colors,
ophite post office. troubles
'" aY Pal- groat remedy forcenghs
v nnn
nature’s
colds, croup,
throat and lung
Ned Herries, or, as his card read.
“Edward T. Herries, C. E.,” stood in
the doorway of the Rough Diamond aud
looked gloomily forth at the rain as it fell
aslant the cactus growth and chapparal
on the red soil of the mesa.
From the saloon within came the rat
tle of dice, the chink of glass, the rattle
of coin and the murmur of deep, hoarse
male voices. The Rough Diamond was
a most lncrative and flourishing institu
tion in the little railroad town of Pic
ture Canyon, on the line of the Union
Pacific.
|lt was one of those places which, at
that time, sprang up in a night and are
deserted in a day along the line of the
great road. Indeed, they followed the
track, and wherever track laying ended
temporarily there a town was certain to
spring np almost as if by- magic.
There were thousandB of laborers, rail
road men, engineers and speculators.
With them came peddlers, storekeepers,
and last, but not least, the great army
of gamblers and saloon keepers. Some
of these towns were located in advan
tageous situations, and finally took on a
solid growth and prospered. Others,
having'nothing to justify their existence
save the presence of the army of railroad
employees, vanished utterly when that
army advanced farther and farther on
its mission of conquering space and time
and binding east and west together with
bands of steel.
Herries was attached to the engineer
corps of the road, and had been for some
time stationed at Picture Canyon, a city
of some 5,000 inhabitants, mostly males,
and which was nearly a month old, tv
antique indeed that an election for
mayor and common council was being
agitated by the more enterprising mem
bers of the community.
Harvard bred, delicately nurtured, ac
customed to all the refinements of life
which wealth guided by correct ta«te
may give in an old and settled com
munity, the rude surroundings of bis
present life had at first disheartened
Herries, bnt being at bottom a man of
good sense and plnck and possessing a
splendid constitution, a magnificent bi
ceps, standi ug six i'eet and over in his
boots, the man who had been Yale’s es
special terror as “right tackle,” and who
had filled the seat in the 'Varsity eight
with more than credit when the blue
crossed the line ahead of the criumon
on Lake Qniusigamond, would hardly
flinch at hardships which other men hove
without complaint, even if at times hi
soul grew weary of oatlis and liquor,
maddened men and brawls and bacon
and muddy coffee and hardtack. In
deed he grew at last to like the wil
freedom of his life, as all men will do in
time, and he was fast taking on the ex
terior of a genuine frontiersman when
When he met Chiquita!
Chiqnita was a sprite. She was the
true daughter of rocky canyon and des
ert mesa—a genuine child of the Sierras
—and a woman withal.
Her reputed father was an evil eyed
old Mexican named Ramon, ostensibly a
herder of other men’s sheep, really
gatherer of other men’s coins.
Chiqnita kept house for him in a turn
bled together “shack” on the outskirts
of the town, and here entertained her
father’s guests.
Poor little Chiquita!
She was brilliantly pretty, with the
rich rose red flushing her olive cheeks,
her white teeth flashing between
ripe, dewy, crimson lips, with glorious
brown eyes under heavy arching brows,
and shaded by such long curling lashi
as would make one’s heart ache, espc
dally the heart of a froutiersman, in
whose life female beauty is a rich and
rare event.
Many a dollar had Chiqnita’s eyes and
lips brought to old Rainon’s sheepskin
pouch—and
gold.
It was of this Herries was thinking,
for he knew Chiquita, and it was this
which, thinking of it, drove him out of
the warm and cozy barroom (the only
place where he could possibly stay, save
in ms corn ana cheerless tent), and
forced him to cool his heated "brow in
the cool, wet wind which blew from the
month of Picture Canyon.
He was roused by a voice, a deep,
slow, plainsman’s voice, addressing him:
“Pardner, you are a good one for a
tenderfoot, leastways I’ve sorter tackled
to yon sence I seen the way yotF whup-
ped that ’ere cowboy champ and belted
him with hi 3 own gap. Some tender
foots ain’t got no sand, bnt von Have,
en I’ll not see yon double teamed on ef i
kin help it, Bho’s I’m fnm Texas—which
I’m known as Black Waxy Jim.”
“Why, what’s the matter?’ broke in'
Herries on Black Waxy’s harangue, as
he turned and regarded closely the tall,
athletic figure of the man beside him.
The Texan jerked his tharnb over his
shoulder in the direction of the barroom.
“In thar,” he Baid in a low tone, “I
heem somethin—about—about yon—en
—en”
“Chiquita?*’
“Thet’s it, pard. You’ve called the
deal. It’s jest abont that ’ere litti.
greaser gal, en yon ain’t the fust nor yov.
won’t be the larst, I reckon, thet’s got
his hide bored ’long o’ her.”
“What’s up, then?”
.vKeep your eye skinned and don’t go
nigh old Ramon’s shack. I’ve warned
you. So long, pard.”
And Black Waxy, lounged away into
the gathering gloom and mist.
“Hold on,” cried Herries, rushing after
him; “tell me at least who my enemy
is."
Black Waxy turned and scanned the
young engineer closely in the twilight.
“Pete—from Denver!”,he jerked ont
and strode rapidly off.
Herries was a brave man. bnt his blood
chilled at the mention of that name. It
was the synonym of ail that was most
fierce, bloodthirsty and wicked even in
tnat wicked and bloodthirsty little com
munity.
Denver Pete!” he mused.. “So he is
going to do me up because I’m trying to
win that poor child from her horrible
life and save her for something better. I
fear me, Edward* you’re iu no end of a
bad scrape.”
Bat the blood which had rushed so
hotly through his veius when Yale’s
shonts rang triumphant over the foot
ball field as the goal was almost won,
and which nerved him to dare any odds,
take any risk, so long as he could save
that game, now flowed again warmh
through his heart.
I’ll not be bullied,” he said, and be
frowned and shat close his month and
clinched his hands. These were ominous
signs in Mr. Herries. and even Denver
Pete, redoubtable knight of the green
cloth as he was. would have done well
to have heeded them; had he known
young Hernes better he might have
done so.
For Herries had stalked back to the
brilliantly lighted barroom and bad
called for a glass of ..whisky, the while be
regarded a knot of men near by who were
conversing in a low tone. Among these
men was the gambler against whom
Herries had been warned—a handsome,
pale faced, tall, slender man, dressed
with great, neatness in black aud with
out a single ornament visable—not even
the belt which nearly every man wore.
He had a smalt, keen, hungry looking,
gray eve, and as he looked at Herries he
met the latter’s gloomy glance, smiled
and turned to his friends with the re
mark:
The kid seems worried about some
thing. I wonder if by any chance he
has overheard us?”
Guess not—be jest come in a minute
ago.”
“Perhaps—perhaps.” muttered Pete,
but we will soon know.”
Events moved quickly in frontier
towns. As Herries finished his whisky
and banged the door behind him, Pete
arose from hie seat.
His friends also sprang np, but he
made a gesture of dissent.
No, boys. Leave this to me. If 1
can’t deal with one tenderfoot I certain
ly won’t call in aid."
But he might get the drap on ye,”
persisted one.
Pete shrugged bis shoulders and
deigned no reply. He walked to the bar,
called for and swallowed a large glassful
of brandy, which draft did not evei
bring a flash to his pale cheek, opened
the door and -was lost in the darkness of
the night
Louis, and left there four years later
cultured and magnificently beautiful
woman.
She will be pleased to receive any of
Mr. Herries’ friends at her lovely home
in the Back bay district in Boston, ami
if yon succeed in pleasing her she will,,
tell yon of that awfnl uigbt at Picture
Canyon when a “tenderfoot” from Bos
ton showed how “tenderfeet” can fight There are few who have not heard or
when a sweetheart is at stake. read of the great French revolution of
And old Ramou? the last century, when cruel men seized
When they looked for him he was on the government of France, when
gone. Nor was he or Edward Herries human life was of no account, and when,
SAVED FROM THE G01L0TINE!
To Be Nearly Starved to Death.
ever seen again in Picture Canyon.—At
lanta Constitution.
Not one watchmaker in a hundred can
fit a mainspring properly, and not one
in fifty knows a correct one when he
sees it.
His Fisting Card.
Mrs. D’Avnoo-^-Here is a card jnst sent
np.
Mr. D’Avnoo (looking at the card)—
ns if wearjed with its wickedness, God
seemed to have hid his face from the sin
ful land.
N“ one may count np the tears that
were shed, the moans that were made,,
the hearts that Were broken in those
dreadful times; bnt here and there out
of the great mass of lmman misery his
tory has preserved a record of the trials
and sufferings of some hapless ones, read
ing which we shudder and thank God
that we live in happier days.
Some few years after the Reign of
“Col. George- Washington Lee.” I Have ’ Terror—as this outburst of sin and mad-
not had the honor of meeting Colonel Lee,
but be must be a gentleman of some im
portance. Have him Bhown np.
Eastern Stranger—I’se glad yon did’nt
keep me waitin, sah, ’cause I’s got-ter
hustle ef I call at all tie places de employ
ment agent gub me. I’m lookin fo’ a sity-
ation as coachman, sah.
Mr. D’Avnoo—Eh? Your card said Col.
George Washington Lee.
Stranger—Not kernel, sah. C-o-1. stands
fo’ cullud, sah.—Good News.
The Mean Old Thing.
Abont two hours later the inmates of
the Rough Diamond were startled by
hearing shots, cries, oaths, the heavy
thundering of a horse’s hoofs on tb
rocky soil of the mesa, and then a long
loud “hurra-a-h.” - ,
Then all was silent.
As one man they sprang to their feet
and rushed for the door, bnt ere the fore
most man among them could.reach it it
was burst violently open and old Ramou
rushed in. followed by Pete, from Den
ver, who. swaying aud staggering like
a irunken man. called fur brandy, and
then came to the floor with a crash that
shook the windows.
A babel of voices prevented an expla
nation for a long time, and when Peter
had somewhat revived he told them what
had happened.
“Where’s Chiqnita?? some oue asked.
A spasm of wrath convulsed the fea
tures of the dying man.
“Gone," he gasped; “gone with that
cursed tenderfoot.”
“How did it all happen, Pete?"
“He was there when I got there.
Chiqnita was all dressed aud ready to go
off with him—womanlike, curse her!
He saw me coming. His horse was
there. He waited for me. Oh, the fel
low was game enough. I said nothing,
but opened on him. The girl being
there most have m*ade me nervous, for
missed my man for the first time.”
“And then?”
“Why, he pumped me full of lead be
fore 1 could pull trigger. Hit me five
times. Then he mounted and swung the
girl np in front of him. Old Ramon
came up and opened on him. I got up
and followed suit. He got back at ns
once—his last cartridge—and canght
Husband (kindly)—My dear, yon have
nothing decent to wear, have you?
Wife (with alacrity)—No, inde-d, I have
not; not a thing. I’d be ashamed to be
seen anywhere. My evening dress has
been worn three times already.
Husband—Yes; that’s just what I told
Bifkins when he offered tne two tickets for
the theater for tonight. I knew if I took
them they’a only l>e wasted, so I just got
one. You won’t mind if I hurry off.—Loa-
dou Thoughts.
He Went West.
It was about 9 o’clock in the evening
that be suddenly rose up off a box in front
of a store on Chambers street and accosted
Me with:
“Say, do yon live here?”
“Yes.”
“Regular New Yorker?”
“Yes.”
“Prond of the. town, of course, and
wouldn’t live anywhere else for a million
dollars a year?”
“Well?”
“Well, she’s a bn9ter Lots o’ things to
be stuck over. Don’t wonder you go
around patting yourself on the back. Suyl
I don’t live here.”
No?”
Live way ont west in a town of 2,000 in
habitants. Justgo-ag hometouiglit. Sorry
to go. bnt 1 got to. Say!”
Yes.”
I want to take away with me a pleas
ant impression of your great and noble
city. Want that impression to last me
clear home, and when 1 get there I want to
go down to the grocery and say to the
boys: ‘Boys, it hain’t no use talking. She
beats all creation, and them New Yorkers
is the all-firedest richest, smartest and big
heartest people in nil this world.’ ”
I see, bnt where do I come in?”
Right here. Yon band me a dime; dime
produces pleasant impression; pleasant im
pression makes me a friend of New York.
Present impression fluctuates and wobbles
—mebbe I like New York, mebbe I don’t.
See? Better fix me.’’
I hastened to fix him, and after assuring
himself of the value of the coin be lifed
his hat, bowed gracefully and said:
“Impression is now all right, and is go
ing to be righter in about live minutes.
Westward ho! is my watchword. Fare
well!”—Chicago Tribane.
Working a Claim.
“Yes, darling,” she said softly, “I want
so mneb for yon to see me in my new seal
skin cloak.”
“That will be a great pleasure,” he mut
tered. “Tell me, dear, was it made to or
der?”
“Of course," she replied. “Why do yon
ask?"
ness was well named—a man of middle
age entered a small inn in Germany and
called for refreshments. His manners
were timid and shrinking, and he looked
as if he might just Lava recovered from
some terrible illness—he was so strange
ly, ghastly pale.
The landlord supplied his wants, and,
half -:urionsr, half iu kindness, be made
some remark os to the stranger's appear:
ance, coupling it with tite question,
“Did he want anght else for his com
fort?"
“Nay, nothing," said the pale man
hastily; “I have food and light and air,
what could I want more?" aud he sighed
deeply.
“My friend,” said the landlord, seat
ing himself, “you speak as if yon had
known the want of these things. Have
I guessed aright?"
His gnest looked np. i
“Would yon hear my tale?" he asked.
“For years I have kept silence, but to
day it seems as if it would lighten my
heart to speak. Listen and beieve it if
yon can. Less than seven years ago 1
was a gay, light hearted youth in this
our quiet fatherland. Having nonear
relations, I was led to visit some distant
ones who had lived for many years in u
small town in France.
My uncle, os I called him ont of
friendliness, was a kind, good fellow;
well known and respected in the plane,
where he carried on the craft of a watch
maker, and he proposed that I should
become his apprentice and partner. 1
liked the little town, I liked my nncle,
I liked my mint, and I soon gave my
consent. They had no children—I thank
God for that now—but my aunt’s kindly
sonl coaid not be content without young
peoplo around her, so she kept and
clothed two lionse maidens, children of
some poor neighbors. Trim and neat
they looked, too, wearing the costume of
that part of Germany from whence my
aunt came, a pretty fancy of her own;
it seemed quaint enough in a strange
land.
“It was a happy household. No won
der I was glad to belong to it; but, alas!
It was soon to be swept away by terrible
affliction. For some time we had heaid
of strange troubles going on in Paris and
the large towns, bnt our little place was
still quiet. One morning, however, we
woke to find everything in confusion.
Our mayor had been ordered to resign,
aud his place was to be filled by some
one sent from Paris:
“Still, we never dreamed of what fear
ful misery this was the forerunner. We
had no time to dream, either, the blow
fell so suddenly. There had been a stir
going on in tbe marketplace for the two
days following the arrival of the new
official; bnt ray uncle and I were busy
over a discovery which he had made in
our trade, and we were less than usual
in the streets.
“At noon, on the third day, however,
he went out for a stroll to rest his eyes
and look.about him for a few moments.
My aunt and her maidens arranged as
usual the midday meal, and we were all
ready to sit down, only my nncle was
missing. He was usually so punctual
that we wondered and waited, and at
last we dined without him. At the
dose of the meal I stepped out to look
for him.
“I had not got a dozen yards from our
house when I met our baker’s wife, her
eyes staring ont of her head.
“‘Go back,’ she said, ‘go backt It is
too late. The monster—the wretchl He
has executed the honest man, without
even the farce of a trial, on the accursed
guillotine yonder!’
“I was petrified with horror. Could
she bo speaking of my nncle, so respected,
so quiet as he was? It was too true. The
wretch in office had lost no time, but had
begun his work of bloodshed at once, and
my nncle was his first victim, his only
crimq being that he was of foreign birth,
and had sheltered under his roof, some
months since, a poor Swiss. I retraced
known to be occupied. There I Was
thrust into a deep dimgeon, and left in
total darkness till the morning, when I
doubted not I should be conducted to
the same cruel fate as my poor relutives
had met. Bnt morning came, as I had
guessed by the sound without, and still
no summons. Woru ont withspense
and waiting. I fell asleep. ten I
awoke hunger and thirst oppress) d me.
Happily I had stored some breid and
meat and a small bottle of wine in oue
of the pockets of my coat preparatory to
my intended flight Of this I now ate
and drank. No one came nigh me, and
yet I could hear sounds as if wretched
prisoners were being led forth out ot
neighboring cells, doubtless to death;
for they wept and pleaded vainly as it
seemed to me.
“Bnt the third day a grearstillness full
on the prison. I could not understand
it; my senses were enfeebled for want
of food, "for my small stock Tywl long
been exhausted and I almost lacked
strength to wonder why I was left to
live so long. Presently arose an awful
terror, lest this should be ray sentence,
to perish miserably for want of food in
this damp dungeon. Death on the scaf
fold appeared 1 light by comparison. I
clamored at my prison door. I shouted
as loudly as I could—all to no purpose.
Then I burst into an agony of tears; my
fate was too dreadful to bear. With the
soft nature of my youth I pitied aud be
moaned myself sorely. All at once
words came into my mind that I had
learned years ago as a text in the school,
•Fear'thou not, fori am with thee: be
not dismayed, for I am thy God.’
“They came like a ray of light into
my prison, and I clung to the promise
as if it had that moment been made to
me by a pitying God. I felt soothed
and hopeful, and in this condition I
sank back in a doze or swoon.
“How time passed I could not tpll:
day and night to mo were alike in my
cell. I woke np to find light and warmth
and kindly- faefca about the. Slowly 1
regained consciousness enough to under
stand what they told me. I had lain
five days forgotten, the stillness I had
noted the third day was accounted for
by the fact that the news had just
reached onr town of the death of one of
tbe greatest leaders of the revolution,
and the consequent decline of the party.
In fear of his life, onr terrorist mayor
bad fled, and the old. mayor, resuming
power, had ordered the prison doors to
be set open. I, in my solitary cell, had
been forgotten, and but that some one
had been sent to examine all the cells
and collect the fetters used therein, I
might have perished most miserably.
As it was, I was carried out perfectly
senseless and brought to life with some
difficulty.
“I am safe now, as you see, comrades,
in my own country, but the anguish of
those few days will never be forgotten.
I bear abont with me in my face tbe re
membrance of it. Daily 1 thank God
for light and air and food, aud yet these
good gifts of his fail to make my heart
rejoice. Still those dreadful days iu the
dungeon have given me a firm reliance
on his mercy, aud 1 know that I shall
one day he joyful again in the city of
which the gates are never shat and
where there is no darkness.”—New York
Advertiser.
That Was All.
Smith—I say, Smytlie!
Smythe (who is running at the top of his
■peed, stops)—Weil, what is it? Hurry up
(puff, puff), please. I have only two min
utes to—
Smith—I merely wanted- to say that
you’d lose your train if you didn’t hurry
up.—Yankee Blade.
“Because," he answered (shyly toying , .. .
with one of her twenty-five cent curls), “I my steps to the house. My aunt s anxious
face met my troubled gaze. She had
begun to suspect evil. The two girls
wajted fearfully in the background. I
thought, perhaps, there might be enough
left over to make me a cap.”—Cloak Re
view.
Wanted a Head Put on Him.
An old man with a head as destitute of
hair as a watermelon, entered a Manhattan
avenue drug store and told tbe clerk he
wanted a bottle of hair restorer.
“What kind of hair restorer do you pre
fer?”
“I reckon I’ll have to take a bottle of red
hair restorer. That was the color it used
to be when I was a boy.”—Texas Siftings.
Harmony Drove Dots.
Ramon, for I heard him groan. Then
till he was athirst for more the tenderfoot yelled and rode off. Boys,
give me a big drink. Frn done for.”
And when they brought the drink a
fast chilling corpse was all that was left
of Pete from Denver to drink it.
And Chiqnita?
Chiquita went to a convent in St.
Harmony Gkovr. Dec. 8 —[Special ]
—Mr. P"*k Thompson, one of Bank’s
higgler farmers, t-assed through the
Grove yesterday en route for Athens.
Messrs. Cicero S’«rk and Beer Pow
ers, tv o of i nr most progressive and
pro-’pereris m rchsnts. made a flying-
vLit c<> Ath.-n- ytsterday
Pr .f C A Meeks, one of Banks
eouotv’s meat, prominent pedagogues,
is in tow;: today Prof Meeks wears a j
broad smile on his face, and is receiv- '
ing the coegratulatiops of his many
friends. Cause: a big-baby at his
lieme
Dr. Jesse C. Bennett, a prosperous
v< ui-g prsc'tioner of Jeflprson, Ga,, is
iuiown today circulating among his
no a ts of friends.
The ever happv and cheerful Charlie
Co-p r, of Athens, is in the Grove.
pu "ucn.eiil.h.nsotvr^n; ti’e trot- YuYihY
ting stock. Charlie is a brick.
tried to speak, but 1 turned away and
burst into tears. I was yonng then.
Master Landlord, and had tears to shed.
My aunt passed me by and rushed into
the street, straight to the market place.
I could not follow. What happened
there was told me later.
“Wild with agony at her husband’s
fate, my gentle, loving, aunt had burst
into a flood of reproach of his ninrder.
In these days this was crime enough for
'the heaviest punishment, and before
evenmg she had fared the same fate as
my uncle.
“The Reign of Terror had indeed begun
with us. The girls had fled, terrified at
the fate which had befallen their pro
tectors, and I was meditating in a half
stupefied way the same measure, when a
knock < ame at the door, and two men,
who had bften eaten and drunk at my
uncle’s table, came in and made me a
prisoner, confiscating all the possessions
of the family to the state.
“In those days a mam’s foes were often
they of his own household. I offered no
resistance; the shock of the day had
completely unmanned me. I made cer
tain that I, too, should die that night.
Bnt my time was not yet come.
“In consequence of the lateness of the
hour I was taken to the town prison, a
which I had never
Delicate Flattery.
“What ever made you make Brackins
a present of a pocket comb? He’s as bald
as a billiard ball.”
“That’s just it; I want to make him
think I’never noticed it.”—Washington
Star.
Very Little Does It.
Harry—Stunning girl just passed, eh, old
boy? Did you see her look back at me? -
Fred—Yes; they say it don’t take much
to turn a woman’s head.—Fun.
The Difference Defined.
The difference between an editor and his
wife is that his wife sets things to rights
while he writes things to set.—Yonkers
Statesman.
Only One Thing to Do.
There seems to be no course open to
Washington Chinamen except to drop "fan
tan” and learn to play poker.—Washing
ton Star. . -
Remember This.
Every man who does not labor and lay
up a fortune may cause absolute suffering
to his daughter’s future husband.—Elmira
Gazette. ' ' . i
i
An Appropriate Head. '—
“The light that failed” is the title of the
only match a man had that went ont be
fore be could light the gas.—Lowell Cou
rier. -. - v Girls®
WINTBRVILLE ITEMS.
What la Going on in Our Neighboring
Town.
WiNTKBViLLK, Ga., Dec 8.—[Spe
cial.]—Hard times.
The cold wave struck this place last
night.
Dr. G B. At.kis-on has dismissed his
school until after Xmas.
The ginnere of this place have about
stopped on account of the scarcity of
cotton. •
Messrs. I. H. and J. I. Pittard have
bought up to this date 1,90) bales of
cotton, not half as much as last fall.
Mr. Walter Chandler was in our town
if ■•■. Thursday night attending the mar
riage of Mr. and Mrs. H E. England.
Rsv. Mr Stone preached a very fine
sermon last Sunday at the Methodist
church.
Mrs- H. O. Johnson has returned
home from a visit to her father in Mon
roe
If you see a man with a long face
and his lower lip hanging down on his
chin and you ask him what, is the mat
ter, hewiil say: ‘'cotton isG 1-2, I esu
not ge’ money at that; how am I to get
credit another year?”
