Newspaper Page Text
FAYETTEVILLE NEWS
YOL. I.
FAYETTEVILLE, GA„ FRIDAY, DECEMBER 14, 1888.
NO. 20.
In New York State several hundred
foreigners change their names every
year, chiefly because they find that
Americans cannot pronounce them. In
looking over the City Directory, re
marks the New York Sun, one sees many
bames which their possessors could sim-
plify by merely dropping a few super-
fluous letters out of them. It would be
to their advantage to do so, though they
have the star-spangled right to retain
them if they please.
Father Schleyer, inventor of the new
language Volapuk, who recently died in
Germany, was a Catholic Priest and
pastor of a little church on the German
side of Lake Constance. He was a poet
and a linguist. In explaining how the
language was created, Father Schleyer
said: “One sleepless night the whole
framework of the now language flashed
out before him.” The language has now
been perfected foy seven years, and there
are three periodicals published entirely
in Volapuk.
North Carolina can lay claim to the
President’s earliest namesake, asserts the
New York Commercial Advertiser. North
ampton, in that State, has a Grover
Cleveland, now a sturdy lad of twelvo,
and whose father, upon going to Buf
falo, N. Y., for medical treatment short
ly before his birth, heard a speech from
Mr. Cleveland, then almost to fortune
and to fame unknown, and was so im
pressed with it that he gave the speak
er’s name to his next boy, prophesying
at the time that he would be a President's
namesake.
Hypnotism, is, for the first time, be
coming an instrument in the hands of
French justice. A shoemaker named
Pichereau, living in the town of Paim-
bxuf, had persistently denied a robbery
of $40, of which he was accused. The
judge before whom he was tried went at
once to a professional hypnotizer, who
had the man’s eyes blindfolded, much as
if he was giving a public performance,
and at last discovered the stolen money
under anoW&one wall. Thanks to the
hypnotjjzer the shoemaker was convicted
and soflfcej^pd to- .twp years’ imprison-
> ment.
There is a droll incident related of tho
state concert in the Austrian Ilofburg
which preceded the great dinner given
in honor of Emperor William of Germany.
It was a superb affair, with all the chict
Austrian singers, but when it was fin
ished there was not a sound of applause.
It is Austrian Court etiquette that the
guests begin, the applause. William
had not known this, apparently, for he
did not move a muscle. The result wa 3
a chilling silence. The artists-arc much
piqued by this, and when raulino Lucca
-Was afterward presented to William, and
he spoke of a hope for the pleasure oi
hearing her in Berlin, the diva, with a
very saucy air and marked emphasis, re
plied that it was not at all likely that she
would ever go^there.
There are to be no more big rafts. T he
Ohignecto Post, published near Joggins,
Nova Scotia, announces that Mr. Leary
has instructed his agent, Angus McDon
ald, to sell tho timber used in frames,
and other materials on hand at tho Fin
ger Board, as he will build no more rafts.
The expense of constructing and then of
breaking up tho rafts, more than the
cost of transporting, renders the big raft
system moro expensive than vessels.
Nothing but Leary’s unconquerable grit
caused the last and only successful raft
to be built. The financial failuro of the
experiment was assured long before, but
Mr. Leary was determined to build a
raft and tow it to New Y T ork if it took
all his fortune to do it, and he is a man
of such iron-willed stubbornness as to
have carried out his pet schomo, after no
matter how many failures. Now that
he has succeeded ho rests on his laurels
and is content.
The New York Graphic says: “There
is always something new in Paris, and
the latest novelty is worth tho attention
of our own Government. A member of
the Municipal Council proposes to estab
lish an asylum for rabid and habituul
politicians. On the certificate of fifty
citizens, not more than half of whom
shall belong to any one political party,
that the man has become a confirmed nui
sance and neglects his family for purposes
of statesmanship, the judge can order
immured within tho asylum walls
^ich times as he may have returned
of ordlnury people who are
Iftr politicians. Tho treat
ed towards him during
ft also notoworthy.
jratory, politi
co th are to bo
I he becomes
is ready to
ties of every
REUBEN JAMES.
Three ships of war had Preble when he left
the Naplos shcre,
,\nd the mighty king of Naples lent him
seven galleys more;
And never since the Argo floated in the mid
dle esa
Buch noble men and valiant have sailed in
company
As the men who went with Prtblo to the
siege of Tripoli.
Stewart, Bainbridge, Hull, Decatur, how
their names ring out like goldl—
Lawrence, Porter, Trippe, Macdonough, and
a score as true and bold;
Every star that lights their banner tells tho
glory that they won;
But one common sailor’s glory is the splendor
of the sun.
Reuben James was first to follow when De
catur laid aboard
Of the lofty Turkish galley and in battle
broke his sword.
Then the pirate Captain smote him, till his
blood was running fast,
And they grappled, and they struggled, and
they fell beside the mast.
Clole behind them Reuben battled, with a
dozen, undismayed,
Till a bullet broke his sword arm, and he
dropped the useless blade.
Then a swinging Turkish sabre clovo his left
and brought him low,
Like a gallant bark, dismasted, at the mercy
of the foot
Little more/ knows the corsair; high his
blade was raised to slay,
When a richer prize allured him where De
catur struggling lay.
“Help!” the Turkish leader shouted, and his
trusty comrade sprung,
And his scimstar like lightning o’er the
Yankee Captain swung.
Reuben James, disabled, armless, saw tne
sabre flash on high,
Saw Decatur shrink before it, heard the
pirate's taunting cry,
Baw, in half the time I tell it, how a sailor
brave and true
Still might show a bloody pirate what a dying
man can do.
Quick he struggled, stumbling, sliding in the
blood around his feet,
As the Turk a moment waited to make ven
geance doubly sweet.
Bwift the sabre fell, but swifter bent the
sailor’s head below,
And upon his fenceless forehead Reuben
James received the blow I
So was saved our brave Decatur; so the
common sailor died; -— -
Bo the love that moves the lowly lifts the
great to fame ancj pr 'do.
Yet we grudge him not his honors, for whom
love like this had birth,
For God never ranks His sailors by the
register of earth!
—James J. Roche, in Boston Post,
MURIEL.
“Muriel, Muriel.”
Tho tone was sharp and authoritative,
and Madam Thorne’s smooth, white brow-
contracted info a half frown as she
leaned out of the window aud repeated
her imperative summons.
A foam bubble sparkling on the break
er’s brim—a butterfly poising in midair
—a thistledown careening on the breeze
—how shall I descr b!e the airy lightness,
tho perfect grace of Muriel’s motion as
she came dancing, floating up the broad
lawn and stood before the open window?
“Well, auntie?”
“Come in, Muriel; I wish to have a
little serious conversation with you.”
The limpid gray eyes shot ’one re
bellious flash from under their silken
lashes, and the rich red mouth took an
unmistakable pout.
“Is it auout Lawyer Grant?”
“Yes, Muriel. That worthy gentle
man has magnanimously overlooked your
scornful reception of his avowal of love
and renews his oiler of hand, heart and
fortune.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then the mortgage which he holds
on Buckdalc will be foreclosed immedi
ately and you and I wiil be homeless out
casts.”
“And so you propose to sell me to
Lawyer Grant?”
Even madam’s well-bred composure
was not quite proof against the bitter
scorn in tho question, and she flushed a
little as she replied:
“Don’t be vulgar, child. Mr. Grant
offers you a homo, riches and an honor
able name.”
“An offer that 1 despise and reject.”
Madame Thorne’s snowy eyelids wont
down, and her snowy hands went up, in
token of her horror.
“Ingrate 1 Traitor! I shelterei and
cared for you in your infancy, kept you
from tho almshouse; and now you will
not make this trifling sacrifice to save
my old ngo from want.”
“Not to save your life, or mine!” The
gray eyes glittered now, and tho quick
blood burned like a crimson stain in
either girlish check. “Not for your
sake, Aunt Muriel,nor to save tho whole
world, would I thus degrade myself.”
Mrs. Thorne’s cold blue eyes fastened
themselves on Murid's glowing face
with pitiless scorn.
“Will you toll mo, Muriel Vance, how
you propose to support y^ursolf? You
nave no money, no accomplishments
and no special aptitude, that I have yet
discovered, for making yourself useful
in any way whatever.”
Muriel gave a little sigh.
“I am a sad scapegraco, aunty—I
acknowledge it. But it is snid that
there is a special Providence that
watches over fools. On that I place my
reliance. But there, I see that you are
angry, so I will say no more. ”
And to Mrs. Thorne’s infinite disgust
she began raroling a wild, rythmic
melody, her littlo slippored feet keoping
time, ns she whirled dovni the long
piazza in n perfect melee of whirls, pir-
•uettos and impromptu “pas de fatema-
tion, v till at last, with a grand flourish,
she stood before her aunt, flushed, pant
ing and smiling.
“I danced away all my ill humor, dear
auntie ”
“EncoreI encore!” cried a wheezy,
cracked voice behind her, and Muriel
turned to see the wrinkled face and leer
ing eyes of Lawyer Grant.
“A light heart makes light feet,” he
said, chuckling and rubbing his withered
hands in ecstaCy;” “eh, Miss Muriel!”
But Muriel had fled to her room, a
secluded little retreat in a remote wing
of the great rambling farmhouse.
"When, after an hour’s patient watch
ing from her window she had seen her
antiquated lover disappear down the
shaded path that led to the highway, she
prepared to go down to the parlor to
practice some new songs. But to her
dismay she found the door fast lacked
and herself a prisoner.
That night, while she slept, a plate
containing food was placed in her room,
and with it a tiny slip of paper, bearing
these words:
You shall never leave this room until you
yield to my wishes. Muriel Thorne.
To which she returned this character
istic answer:
Without wishing to be impertinent, I may
say that there is a fair prospect of my outliv
ing both of you. I defy you, until your
death shall release me. 'Muriel Vance.
For four days she bore her captivity
admirably. She leaned from her win
dow and sang snatches of gay songs
when she was sure that her aunt was
where she could hear her, and affected
the utmost nonchalance when she saw
Mrs. Thorne and Lawyer Grant watch
ing her from the lawn. But on the after
noon of the fifth she began to give way,
and longed with all the intensity of her
nature for freedom.
She saw the shining river, free and
unfettered, winding between the feath
ery willows that lined its banks, and
could almost hear it as it gurgled aver
its pebbly bed where the cool woodland
shadows lay thickest; and the words of
the bravura she was sinking died in an
inarticulate sob, though her aunt was in
full view, strolling among tho flower
beds on the lawn.
At last she wiped away her tears and
clinched her teeth firmly together.
“All’s fair in love and war," she said
resolutely; “and a masterly strategy
must accomplish what resistance would
fail to do, even if it docs involve some
deception.”
Srhc watched long and anxiously for
Lawyer Grant that night.
Finally, when the shadows of the
gloaming lay thickly among the trees,
she saw a tall form coming up the path
toward tho front, 4oor. ■■■ —
She leanedfrom the window and called
to him in a suppressed voice;
“Go to the kitchen porch and get the,
long ladder you will find there. Climb
to the balcony under the window at the
back of this room; I wish to speak to
you."
A fow moments elapsed and Muriel
heard cautious footsteps on the balcony,
and then a light tap on the window.
She gently opened it and stepped out.
Without raising her eyes she began in
a faltering voice:
“Lawyer Grant, when I requested
your presence hero I intended to propose
an elopement, trusting that an oppor
tunity of regaining my freedom might
occur. But I cannot do it. Not even to
regain my liberty will I sully my lips
with a lie. But, oh, sir, think of my
cruel punishment and pity me. Think
of one who has always been free and un-
tramcled as the very birds condemned to
this captivity, and if you have a human
heart intercede with my aunt. Think.-—” I
but sobs and tears finished the prayer she ;
would have utterel, as she threw herself
gratitude at escaping the cowhiding ha
so richly deserved and the details of tho
courtship between Rossmore and Muriel.
But when the sumachs burned like
fiery torches in the woodland glades she
loved so well, and hickories and maples
shone golden in the uplands, Muriel, her
claim to the Rossmore estates duly rec
ognized, became Mrs. Fenner Rossmore.
And I am bound as a veracious chroni
cler to record the fact that neither party
ever regreite® it.
HOUSEHOLD AFFAIRS.
Good Way to Cook Tomatoes.
A good and unusual way to cook to
matoes is the following: Peel and slice
eight tomatoes. Put them in a coarse
cloth and press most of the juice into a
bowl. Save the juice. Chop the toma
toes and mix in two tablespoonfuls of
melted butter. Stir up well, put in a
buttered mold, fit on the top, set in a
pot of boiling water, and keep at a fast
boil for one hour. When done turn out
on a flat dish and pour over it the fol
lowing source: Heat the tomato juice,
stir in a tablespoonful of butter rolled in
flour, season with pepper, sugar and salt,
and boil one minute.
Sanitary Bedrooms.
“Woolen carpets are filthy,” says Di
John Crowell in Popular Science Neat,
‘‘and it the good housewife does not be
lieve it, let her look across the room
when the sun is shining through it, and
see the dust constantly rising. This process
goes on night and day, and is unavo d-
able when the floor is encumbered with
the woolen covering.” Hard floors,
without cracks or seams foi dust and
vermin, painted walls, simple furnish
ings, because of dust and “germs,” an
open fireplace, sunshine for disinfecting
and drying, no draperies to catch and
hold dust, the iron or brass bedstead and
hair mattress—these constitute the es
sentials of a sanitary sleeping-room. The
old-fashioned wash-stand is recom
mended as far more desirable than set
bowls with hot and cold water, as these
are rarely trapped properly, and so be
come sources of pollution to the bed
room.—La ws of Life.
at his feet
The tall form came out of the shadows,
and as the light from the room beyond
fell full upon him Muriel started to her
feet in mute surprise.
It was a stranger’s face she gazed
upou—a face which invited confidence,
nevertheless. There was something about
the mischievous gray eyes, clouded just
now with a slight shade of seriousness—
an expression about the finely-cut mouth,
which, though parted at that moment
with a smile of blended amusement and
pity, seemed to be irresistibly at
tractive.
“Do not distress yourself, I beg,” said
he, as ho gazed upon her agitated
countenance, “and believe me when I
say that I will willingly afford you all
the assistance in my power. But before
you accept my assistance let mo explain-
my pro enco in this hou e. My name is
Fenuer Rossmore and I came here to
night to see Lawyer Grant, relative to
certain unclaimed ostales in Couuaught,
Ireland. If one Michael Vance, who
came to this country twonty years ngo,
since deceased, died without heirs, the
property reverts to me, as next of kiu.
I have written to Graut repeatedly, but
failing to get a satisfactory reply, came
over to see if I could not find more
definite information regarding tho heirs
of this Michael Vance, who had the
honor of being sixteenth cousin to my
step mother—God rest her soul 1”
“Michael Vance!" cried Muriel, her
embarrassment lost in surprise. “Why,
that was my father’s name.”
“And his birthplace?”
“Killaroy, Ireland.”
“Accept my congratulation,” said
Rossmore; “for you aro not only the
most beautiful young lady iu America,
but tho richest heiress in Ireland. And
I hope,” he continued, as ho saw tho rosy
flush upon her cheek, “that siuce you
have deprived mo of my inheritance, yon
will at least grant me tho liberty of a
kinsman’s kiss. By my faith, it would
be cheap as the price oi the Rossmore es
tates even. I assure you it i> a national
custom.”
Muriel’s refusal was accompanied with
a laugh of mirthful incredulity that was
so irresistibly contagious that tho
blended tones of merriment reaohed the
two plotters bolow.
Wo pass over mndame’s incredulous
scorn and final belief, Lawyer Grant’s
A Suggestion lor Old Boxes.
Do mothers and nurses know how
much enjoyment and fun can be had out
of different styles of boxes that we so
ruthlessly destroy? If all the members
of the family will sa-> e the boxes they
will find, some«tormy day when children
are forced to remain indoors, that a trip
to th: attic (where the boxes can be
knpt) will afford a great deal of amuse
ment. The little girls of the family will
•select a good-sized box for a new kind of
doll’s house, and mamma or nurse can
easily teach them how to cut cardboard
furniture to furnish this little house. If
it is summer time, make a tiny house out
of an old cardboard box, and paste on
to it dried moss, then set it on a shingle
and have a little gravel path leading up
to the door. On one side have a bit of
looking-glass for a pond, and some
branches of evergreen boughs for trees.
You can add whatever else you like to
make it look like an old fashioned farm
house. This simple toy has kept little
girls happy for whole summers.
The boys can use the boxes for thea
tres, Punch and Judy and many different
kinds of shows.
_ The baby will be amused with an old
tin box, some beans or pebbles put inside,
and the outside covered with some bright-
colored flannel after the cover is firmly
fastened. This will make a good rattle,
a,nd if a string be tied to the box
it can be drawn on the floor, or be sus
pended from the chandelier and swung
if the baby is too young to walk.
All these simple things have been
he'ps to many mothers and nurses on
rainy days, when the expensive toys of
tho nursery have grown old and the lit
tle children are longing for something
new.
When you go away from home for the
summer put some boxes and bright col
ored papers and cloths into your trunk;
you will find them useful and very ac
ceptable when the children cannot have
their own nursery ortho toys it contains.
—New York Graphic.
Tilings Worth Knowing.
1. That fish may be sealed much oasiei
by dipping into boiling water about a
minute.
2. That fish may as well be scaled iJ
desired before packing down in salt,
though in that case do not scald them.
3. Salt fish arc quickest and best
freshened by soaking in sour milk.
4. That milk which is turned or changed
may bo sweetened or rendered tit for use
again by stirring iu a little soda.
5. That salt will curdle new milk,
hence in preparing milk porridge,
gravies, etc., the salt should not be added
until tho dish is prepared.
6. That fresh meat, after beginning to
sour, will sweeten if placed out of doors
in the cool of night.
7. That clear boiling water will re
move tea stains and mauv fruit stains.
Pour tho water through tho stain and
thus prevent it spreading over the fabric.
8. That ripe tomatoes will remove ink
and other stains from white cloth; also
from tho bauds.
lb That a tablespoonful of turpentine
boiled with your white clothes will aid
in tho whitening process.
10. That boiled starch is much im
proved by the addition of a little sperm
or a littlo salt, or a little gum arubic
dissolved.
11. That beeswax and salt will make
your rusty fiat irons as clean and smooth
as glass. Tie a lump of wax in a bag
and keep it for that purpose. When
the irons aro hot, rub them first with the
wax rag, then scour with a paper or
cloth sprinkled with salt.
13. That blue ointment and kerosene
mixed iu equal proportions and applied
to the bedsteads is an unfailing bedbug
remedy, and that a coat of whitewash is
ditto for the walla of a log house.
THE FRENCH EXECUTIONER
AN INTERESTING CHAT WITH THE
HEADSMAN OF FRANCE.
Living fn Strict Retirement—The
Ghastly Implements of His Pro
fession—How He Does His Work.
Few people have ever seen the public
executioner of France, says a Paris let
ter to the Now York World, and it is nc
easy matter to find him, for the police
refuse to give his address, and his name
is carefully omitted from the directory.
The dreaded “Monsieur de Paris,” as he
is called by the lower classes, is, how
ever, M. Dicbler, and he rents a fiat at
No. 3 Rue Vic d’Azur, a squalid little
itreet half an hour’s walk away from
Roquette Prison. This man, who con
ducts the ceremonies in which the
guliotine plays the most prominent part,
is a very quiet person of a retiring dis
position, who dreads notoriety and avoids
contact with h:s neighbors as much as
E ossible. There is nothing in the
eadsman’s appearance nor in his home
to denote his ghastly office.
After some difficulty the World cor
respondent secured the address of M.
Deibler and found that the headsman
wa3 not indisposed to tell the details of
his unenviable profession. He could
not, however, l e induced to exhibit even
privately the guillotine, which he re
ferred to as “ the machine.” He said:
“The machine is ready mounted for
use, and I may be summoned off at any
moment. I usually get twenty-four
hours’ notice in Paris and more than
double that time for the departments,
but I hold myself constantly in readiness
to start off at a moment’s notice. As a
rule I have to spend at La Roquette the
whole night preceding the execution. A
great deal has to be done in a very short
time. Soon as the two black vans arrive
—one containing the ‘woods of justice’
and the other destined to convey the
body of the culprit to Ivry Cemetery—
I have to superintend the installation of
the machine, which takes upward of an
hour. The fixing of the knife and of
the apparatus itself is an intricate job.
There must be no hitch at the last The
instrument Is invariably placed on five
stones just outside the central door of
the Roquette Prison.
“While I am fixing the machine,”
continued the headsman, “The Abbe
Faure arrives. The Abbe Faure enters
La Roquette and gives spiritual comfort
to the doomed man. After being left
alone with the chaplain for a short tinife
the culprit is handed over' to my asaist-
ant, who'tvrings brfn from his c-eif down
the stone stairway which leads to the
Depot—the prisoner’s last station on
earth before reaching the machine—
where he is seated on a wooden stool,
and his toilet begins. This doesn’t take
much time, for his nair and beard were
clipped on entering the prison. The
man is pinioned, his shirt stripped of its
collar, and he then goes forth to his
death by the central door, when he is
strapped to the fatal plank which, top
pling over, brings his neck into the half
circular pori ion of a ring that I secure be
fore springing the knife. Soon as I touch
a button in one of the upright posts the
knife falls and the head is received in a tin
vessel containing sawdust. The body is
unstrapped, put into a coffin, with the
culprit’s head between his legs, and the
remains are then driven off to Ivry Ceme
tery, where they are buried.”
“Does life endure any time after the
head is severed:”
“No, I think not,” the execution re
plied, reflectively. “The great, loss of
blood produces syncope. Besides ”
Here M. L’eibler went out of the room
and brought in a large black leather
box, which he p aced on the table, On
raising the lid there appeared the bright
«teel knife of oblique shape wfcich is
fixed to the cross beam of the guillotine
at each execution, and wiiich M. Deibler
carefully watches over and cleans at
home. He took it out of its soft red
lining the other afternoon, stroked it
with his hand ns if to brush the dust off
its highly-poiished surface, and, turning
It over said: *»•
“There; look at the back of this
knife. It is heavily weighted, you see,
to make it fall swiftly and with tremen
dous force when I touch the spring.
Now, this is the reason why I think that
all consciousness departs from the brain
of a man after the fall of the head. At
tho same instant that the neck is severed
by the blade, the weighty portion strikes
»o fearful a blow on the occiput that the
cheek is often bruised from the fail of
the head into tho tin vessel containing
tho sawdust. Vet tho head is only
raised a few inches abovo the tin vessel
which receives it. Buch a blow is, in
my opinion, sufficient to drive out any
ray of memory, reflection or real sensi
bility that may linger, after tho decapi
tation,in the brain of the most obdurate,
bull-headed criminal.”
The Gull Stream.
Tho main Gulf Stream is said 0o end
on the south side of the Banks of New
foundland; at all events, the stream di
vides there, the larger branch crossing
the Atlantic northward to the coast of
Northern Europe, passing the North
Cape and becoming und-stiuguishable
near Nova Zembla. The smaller branch
crosses eastward, curves southward be
tween the Azores and Portugal, sending
out smaller branches into the Irish and
Mediterranean seas, and joins the north
equatorial current, with which it returns
to tho Gulf of Mexico, and so completes
the circuit. Thus the most northern
point reached Is near Nova Zembla, the
most southern near the equator. It
touches the United States, Newfound
land, the British Isles, Norway, Port
ugal aud Morocco. Tho equatorial cur
rents touch the eastern coast of South
America and the western coast of Africa.
The Japan stream touches Japan and
Corea, Kamschatka and Alaska, and th<
western corst of North America and ths
Mexican coast, flowing almost as fat
•outh as theeauator.— Pki'adeLohia Call
LOVE-LIGHT.
AH thro’ the house I can hear her voices
Sunshine, my Sunshine,
Scattering gladness, bidding rejoice,
My fair Sunshine.
In my lady's chamber away up stairs,
Sunshine, my Sunshine,
She is chanting snatches of carolling airs,
My fair Sunshine,
She is laughing now in the children’s gle9,
Sunshine, my Sunshine,
Blithely the echoes float in to me;
My fair Sunshine.
in white she flashes adown the stair,
Sunshine, my Sunshine;
Her quick, light foot patters ther%
My fair Sunshine.
A moment her tone shines in at the door,
Sunshine, my Sunshine,
And the room turns light, it is dark no moro
My fair Sunshine.
With a white hand waved and a kiss air-
blown,
Sunshine, My Sunshine,
She has passed and vanished, my lo7e, my
own.
My fair Sunshine.
—Archibald MacMechan in Youth's Com
panion.
HCMOjt OF THE DAY.
In everybody’s mouth—Teeth.
The glazier generally has a pane in hi3
chest.
The dressmaker’s draper should be
quick at figures.
WorkiDg like ahorse—A lawyer draw
ing a conversation.
Hearts may be honest, but they are.
always on the beat.
The rising generation—Folks getting
np in the morning.
Why is a doctor never seasick?—He is
used to see sickness.
Sometimes iu a trade a man kicks
when there is nothing to boot. (
The woman question—which women
are opposed to—“How old are you?”
It is asr. -a’lv known that tbo
wheels of a vehicle are tired as the horse.
A pig if a - never known to wash, but
a great many people have seen the pig
iron.
In a question of life and dca Vihero
are two sides to take—Thia .EdO^jand
.that-mda ...
.it is
trdrHrne ts wNgO _
-jnake the bed of the ocean.—?L‘;.. : Free
Pres-.
“Ah,” said the fiy, as it crawled
around the bottle, “I have passed
through the hatching age, the creeping
ige, and now I am in the mucilage”—
then it stuck.
Customer (to waiter)—* Some cheese,
please.” Waiter—“Beg pardon, sir;
very sorry, sir; cheese out, sir.” Cus
tomer—‘*That so? When do you expect
jt back?”—Life.
The title of a book which lies before
us—“Twenty Thousand Leagues l uder
the Sea”—suggests that the submarine
development of the national game has
assumed the character of a era e.
“Dad can tell the time without look
ing at his watch,” sa.d little Johnnie.
“When I ask him in the morning he
says it is time to get up, and when 1 ask
him at night he says it is tune to go to
bed.”—Ac iff York Sun.
“How are you getting along.” asked
one cyclone of another. “About ninety
miles an hour. How's your.-cif.” “G,
I manage to keep things moving.” an
swered Cy. No. 1, and blew a town into
the lake.—Detroit Free 1 'r. ».
It is said to be dangerous to attend
nhurch when there is a “great gun” in
the pulpit, a “minor canon” in the
reading desk, when the bi.-hop “charges
the clergy” and when the choir “mur
ders an anthem.”—Detr.it Fr.e Dress.
Thero was confusion in the faces of
George and Matilda, who sat in intimate
proximity on the sofa, as Harry entered.
Matilda was the first to recover her self-
possessio'n. bhe said—“We are engaged
1i a little game at cards.” Harry—
“And a mighty close game, too, eh?”—
Boston Transcript.
Robert J. Burdette re- ently received a
notification at Livingston. Mon., that a
dead registered letter awaited his orders
at Washington. He sent the following
reply: “If the letter referred to isn't so
dead that it is offensive you might send
tho remains to Burlington, Iowa, where
I will claim the mummy iu about a
month.”—New York Post.
“Miss Maud,” he said, “I have come
in this evening to ask you a question,
and 1 have brought ariug with me. Now,
before yuu try it ou I want to toll you
that if you feel inclined to be a sister to
me I will have to take it back, as my
father objects to my sister wearing such
large diamonds.” And Maud said she
would keep the ring.— Jeweler's Weekly.
A Fine Compliment.—Husband: “Pro
fessor Widehead paid you a very fine
CompRment after dinner last night, my
dear.” Wife: “Oh, did he? \\ hat did
he say?” Husband: “Ho said that you
wereu’t handsome, but you wero ono of
the most intelligent woman heevef met.”
Wife: “Professor What's-his name has
received his last invitation from me.—
Time.
Petroleum for Harbor Defence.
A Philadelphia corporation thinks it
is smart enough to sot the river on lire.
It is preparing to make experiments at
Fort Mfttlin, near Philadelphia, with a
new method of setting the river on fire.
It is proposed to sink perforated iron
pipes in the river bed and approaches to
the harbor, through which petroleum
can bo forced to the surface of the water
by machinery. Iu this manner blazing
S etroleum can be sent into the enemy’a
eet and moke it uncomfortably hot for
the nroud invader,
