Newspaper Page Text
A LITTLE HEROINE.
It 'rfas a paradox of ours that Jenny’s
strong point was her weakness. She
was a pretty little thing, as timid as a
mouse. Slic was afraid of thunder, of
the dark, of rats and of snider*. She
was afraid of policemen, or being left
alone, u# getting run ovet, and she waa
afraid, especially, of firearms in any
shape.
Jenny was my younger brother’s wife.
Alf use*!, more than any of ns to ridi
cule her timidness. But I don’t know
we liked her any the less for it.
She was a beautiful, tender-hearted
child, and simplicity itself. No one
could be much aunoyed by Jenny. Alf
was sincerely sorry, however, that she
was So afraid of firearms, for ho thought
it well for a woman to know how to use
a pistol.
Men, he Raid consider it desireable to
learn how to handle one, yet are no of
teucr called to protect themselves than
are women. He considered it a rare and
valuable accomplishment in a Indy. Yet
no urgency could prevail on Jenny to
touch one.
“ I don’t know anything about revol
vers, 1 and 1 don’t want to knaw, dear
Alf,” she would say, appealingly, tears
of Actual distress in her pleading eyes
when ne scolded reproaching her with
the uselessness of his lessons.
“ But I will get you a pretty little
pistol—a mere toy,” he said. “ Some
girls—girls of pluck and courage, would
be delighted to be taught the use of and
own a uice one, Jenny!”
“ I know I’m a dreadful coward,
dear. I don’t wonder that you don’t
love me, and prefer girls of more spirit.”
whimpered Jenny, beginning to cry,
“Oh, well! there, there 1” soothed
soft-hearted Alf.
And then perhaps he would refrain
from returning to the attack for near a
week, for it was hard for him to give up
any tiling he had set his mind on doiug.
At length he brought home a little
revolver, and tried to tempt Jenny into
the use of it.
“ Oh. please—please excuse :r.e, dear!”
she cried, so earnestly, that I pitied aud
interceded in her behalf.
“ Don’t tease her so Alf. Where is
the need of a woman learning to protect
herself when she has a husband to pro
tect her?”
“ But I should think she would like
to use this !” rejoined Alf, rtuher fretful
ly, as he took up the elegant little in
strument.
“As Jenny and I never expect to
fight a duel, or shoot a bandit at fifty
paces, we don’t see the fascination as
you do,” I said, still parrying on Jen
toy’s side, for she was looking rather dis
mal after her scolding.
She loved Alf devotedly, and it
Wounded lier tender soul to have him
displeased with her. She stood, with
varying color, wishing, no doubt, that
the noisy dangerous things did not so
fill" her little heart with horrible alarms.
She liked nothing so well as gratify
ing Alf. Nothing depressed her so
much as having him disappointed.
“ Oh, I wish I wasn't afraid!” she
cried, so pathetically, that her husband
took sudden pity on her, and caught her
up in his arms with a kiss. “Well, Jen
ny, I wont plague you any more. I’ll
try to always be on hand to do your
fighting for you,*" he said.
He put the pistol on the mantel-piece,
warping us not to touch it, as it was
loaded, and poor little Jenny’s relief
was evident, for the end of her troubles
in this direction, had certainly come.
All summer we had been expecting
at Cyprus Lawn, the visit of a school
friend ofhers, and, a few days after this,
a note came from Miss Fairlie, saying
she would be with us on the following
day.
As the young lady was a beauty and
au heiress, Jenny laughingly warned my
two marriageable brothers, who resided
with us, to get themselves up in the most
killing style*
“ For there’s no knowing what may
come of Lily's coming down here to vis
it us, boys,” she said, “ I shall be busy
with baby, and you’ll have to beau her
about, you know, Chris, Carl, I’iff sure
she'll be wild to go out in your boat af
ter water-lilies.”
I could not but notice that these hints
were not thrown away upon the young
men, who solemnly promised to put on
their war paint aud feathers upon Miss
Fairlie’s arrival.
•Jenny’s baby was but four months
old—a very tiny bit of wax-work—and
the next morning the young mother
bathed and dressed it carefully, with a
brave show of embroidery and blue sash,
and put it iri its carriage for Dorothy, the
maid, to wheel up and down the road,
while her mistress was busy within doors.
“ Don’t take baby out of sight, Do
rothy,” had been Jenny’s last command.
“She’ll fall asleep, the darling. The
fresh air always makes her drowsy, you
know, Esther,” she said to me. “ And
then she,ll be just bright from her nap
for Lily to see first. Lily used to be de
lighted with little babies, and I want
her to love mine.”
And then Jenny must needs put on j
her pink cambric wrapper, “ because
Lily was so fastidious.” and when the
house had been put in exquisite order,
and every vase under the roof filled with
flowers, Alf-drove to thestation to meet
Miss Fairlie by the deven o’clock train.
“He must take this wrapper to pro
tect Lily’s dress —her traveling costume
i$ always so exquisite,” she said, run
ning to the door just as he started.
Then she called out: “Oh, Alf, why
have you taken Black Pete? I fear
Lily will be afraid to ride behind him.”
My brother had harnessed up a fiery
blooded horse he had just broken—a
magnificent creature, whose very whin-
VOL. II—NO. 29.
ny Jenny shuddered at, aud she would
aooi er have been taken to drive with a
whirlwind.
“ Oh, no, she wont. She isn’t a little
scarecrow like you. Miss Fairlie is a
girl of courage!”
“Well, be careful t do be eareftil,
dear Alf!”
“Yes, yes!" he answered, lightly
whirling out of the yard.
The station was half mile away. We
could sec the train come in across the
level, unbroken country, anil sitting on
the upper piazza with my brother, I
could follow Black Pete along every
inch of the white, winding read.
“You will see him coming back when
the train is in, and you must tell me if
he has got Lily, Esther,” called Jenny
from her room, where she was putting
some last touches to her dress—placing
a white rose at the throat, and another
in the hair, I think. “ You are so sharp
sighted, you know, and I’m afraid she
wou’t come.”
“Chris and Carl will watch if I
don’t,’* I laughed, for Carl, the youngest,
was in especial killing array, and his
moustache waxed. “ You shall be duly
informed, my dear.”
Soon the train came in, and in a hriel
time passed the station.
In a moment I could see Alfs carri
age turned towards home,
I did not know what frightened tlic
horse then, but the next instant I saw
him leap upon his hind feet, and fran
tically paw the air. Then, iu a Hash oi
time, he was tearing madly up the road.
My brothers precipitated themselves
to the ground; 1 think the piazza must
have been fifteen feet from the sward ot
the lawn, hut they took the leap with
out a thought.
As for me, bciug a womau, I could
do nothing but tremble, weep and
wring my hands, I thought.
Not so Jeuny. She sprang out up
on the piazza, and gave one cry —
“ My baby!”
All, heavens above! The dainty
baby-carriage stood at the open roadside,
right in the path of the maddened ani
mal, the girl having gone a few steps
away to gather some clematis.
It was about a rod from the house, in
the direction of the station, and we
could see the little, dimpled, white hands
tossing iu the sunshine, while we knew
the terrible home must reach the little,
helpless thing before we could.
But Chris tried frantically to save his
pet iu the face of hopelessness 1 saw
him start towards it, shouting wildly*
Thin Jenny stood beside me, one little
arm extended. There was something in
the white jewelled hand ; I did not see
what. But a short, sharp explosion
told the story.
A scream broke from my lips, and
my distended eyes saw the horse fall,
and the carriage reel and then come to
a standstill in the middle of the road.
Her aim had been strangely true.
The animal had been shot through the
heart, they told me afterwards, and his
reddest blood poured iu the middle of
the road.
And Jenny?
I turned and caught her as she was
sinking senseless upon the floor of the
piazza.
“ The baby—the baby is saved!” she
gurgled, as she lapsed into a faint, from
which we could not rouse her for two
hours.
Tn a few moments Alf and Miss
Fairlie were in the boilse. The latter
proved herself a sensible girl. She
helped me to lay Jenny on tlie bed by
the open window, where we used onr
greatest efforts to resuscitate lief for a
long while.
Poor, little Jenny ! She opened her
wild eyes at last, and screamed until
the roof rang. She clung with hysteric
force alxrat her husband's neck, until
someone thought to bring her the baby.
At sight of its fair, innocent face, she
snatched the little form, and broke Into
tempestuous weeping, which gradually
softened. At last she lay quiet, with
hidden face, while we looked pitifully at
each other.
Her terrible strain of nerves rendered
her ill for a week. Alf hung over her
devotedly, proud as could be of his
“ little heroine,!’ as he called her.
“ Bless that little right hand—it saved
three lives !” he said, kissing it.
“ Poor, little baby ! You know she
could not help herself at all! Jenny
would say, with a quivering lip.
It was Jenny’s first and last shot, for
she never would touch a pistol again.
Cure for Poison.
Take a heaping teaspoonful of com
mon salt, and as much ground mustard,
stir them in a cup of warm water and
drink quickly. This preparation will
have hardly reached the stomach before
it returns, bringing with it the cause of
trouble. Lest any remnant of the
poison remain, let the white of an egg
or a teacup of strong coffee be swallow
ed as soon as the stomach is quiet, be
cause those very common articles nulli
fy a larger number of virulent poisons
than almost any medicine.
Clothes are a luxury in Ujiji. A
postage stamp over the eyebrow is Con
sidered a full dress.
A Curious Cat, ami the Squlrt-tiun.
Form! XVic*.
We met him in the road one morning
last summer, and perceiving that a part
of his coat tail was gone, and that he
was a little shy, fro ventured to ask
him if anything uncommon had hap
pened during the previous night.
“ No; nothing in particular,” said
Jim; “only a little scrape that boys
will sometimes get into, you know.”
Being on intimate terms, we asked
him to relate the particulars, and pull
ing his ragged coat tail to the opposite
side, he thus related hie sail experi
ence :
“ You see that hoys will get into
scrapes sometimes in spite of all they
can do. ’Spect you know that I lovn
Miss Jennie , and last night I
went over to ask her to have me. Now
the old man don’t like me worth a cent,
so I slipped into the parlor where Jen
nie was waiting for me. It was as dark
as Egypt,; hut I think she met me with a
smile, because lier mouth was open
when I kissed her. I enn’t say that I
like that kind of kissing—it mak(fl ev
erything seem so confounded hollow;
but then it was Jennie, and I didn't
care much, you know.
“ I never l’elt so alloverish in my
life,” continued Jim; after a pause.
“ The buss gave ine the nervuscs, and
my heart jumped about like pop-corn in
a hot frying-pan. I was determined
to tell Jennie how much I loved her,
and tried to whisper, hut I could not.
Every word I said seemed like it come
out of a barrel, and the further I went
the louder I got. Presently I heard
somebody turn over on a bed in another
room, and a hoarse voice demanding to
know of Jennie who was in the parlor
with her.
“ It’s Tom. the old cat, air,” said she
“Growl like a cat, Jim,” she then
whispered to me. I set up such a ter
rible growling that it made the old man
bounce upon the floor. “Scat, you
bitch,” yelled Jennie,and then in alow
whisper she said to me. “ For mercy’s
sake, Jim, mew again just like a cat,
and let’s fool him or the very mischief
will be to pay?” I made an effort to
mock a cat, but it was a terrible failure.
“By this time I heard Jennie’s
father coining towards the parlor door,
and calling for a light. This was more
than I could stand, and out at the win
dow I went: A dratted nail caught my
my coat, and you see it held on to part
of the tail. Just as I turned the corner
of the house, I hoard the old men yell
out, “ Good heavens, Jennie, irhat a
rat, and its tail is made out of white
linen to boot. I tell you what it is, my i
gal ” but I heard no more, for a
big yaller dog came at me like he was '
running down grade on greased wheels.
“1 tut Tige and I had met before, ami
I was prepared for him, I had a big
squirt-gun full of fine red pepper.
(Quicker than thought I squirted the
pepper into his open mouth and big
eyes so plump that he had enough to do
without paying any further attention to
me. While he was coughing and claw
ing I thought I had better get further,
and here am I on my way home.
“ I am sorry of the scrape, hilt I
can’t help it now. I can never explain
the coat-tail business to mother, and
besides this, t have lost my squirt-gun.
If Jennie finds it she will wonder her
self half to death to know what I was
doing with such a thing full of ted pep- 1
per. She may think I intended to j
squirt it in her daddy’s eyes ; but drat,
if I did-—I knowed old Tige tbo well.”
Here Jim paused, and casting a Woe
begone glance at his ragged coat-tail,
he went on towards home muttering to
himself, “ Y r es, and I wonder what in
the thunder daddy will say about this ;
everlasting scrape when he hears of it.;
It all comes of a fellows gal opening
her mouth when he goesto kiss her.’*
Why Popes Change Their Names.
frrhn the Bolton Journal.
It is ft fact generally known that
monks and nuns on assuming their vows,
and popes on ascending their pontifical
throne, usually change their names.
The reason of this change in the Case of
the popes is a superstitious belief that
unless this is done the pope will not live
long. The custom has prevailed since
it was inaugurated in 956 by Octavian
Conti, who assumed the name aud title
of John XII* Julius Medici would
have made a breach had he been per
mitted, but his friends prevailed upon j
him to take the name of Clement, he
being the seventh pope to bear that
name. Thirty-two years later, in 1755,1
Marcelius Servius was elected, and in- 1
sisted upon retaining his own name.
As Marcelius 11., therefore, he ascended
the throne on the 9th of April. He
was a young man and in robust health,
and yet he lived but twenty-one days
after his elevation. Since that time no
pope has ventured to offend against the
tradition. It is a little singular that
while the name of John has been a fa
vorite one, no less than twenty-one popes
I having chosen it since the death of John
XXII., in 1416. The first pope bear
ing the name of Pius was chosen in 142,
and the name did not appear after his
death till 1196.
HARTWELL, GA., WEDNESDAY. MARCH 13, 1878.
A Carpi'liter’s Terrible Death.
A Virginia City (Nev.) correspondent
tells the awful story of a man’s death
at the Savage carpenter shop in that
city. The man, whose name was Wm.
Carpenter, was boring a hole through a
stick of hard wood about three Inches
thick and eight feet long, and was lean
ing his might, against it, under the im
pression that there was a guage attached
to the machinery to prevent the block
from going ftirt her along the anger than
the dietnnoe required. Suddenly a
workman near Carpenter observed an
indescribable look on his face as his
laxly siiot forward and doubled over the
terriUc- machine.
It had passed, like a fencer’s aword,
tliroughJiis stomach, and was protrud
ing at t&e back. lie was literally im
paled npm the auger, which was churn
ing his intestines at the rate of from
1.000 to 1,500 revolutions per minute.
In the midst of this horrible agony
'Carpenter seems to have maintained his
present* of mind, for he east himself
backward and got off the auger, falling
to the floor as he did so. The most
terrible excitement prevailed among his
comrades in the shop, and there was a
rush to ttie prostrate man, The sight
must have almost paralyzed them.
Carpenter was lying ou his back, with
his clothes twisted and torn alwive the
region of the abdomen. Just above
him the deadly auger was still whizzing,
and clinging to it was a mass of intes
tines, the loose ends of which spread
out with the devolutions and gave the
, anger the appearance of a buzz-saw.
Tic wai t aken to a room and the phy
sicians who were summoned decided
that he had )>etter die under the influ
ence of chloroform. Before the drug
was administered he was told that he
would never come from under its influ
ence alive. He merely nodded, bade
those about him good by, and in a few
minutes was unconscious. He lay in
this state as calmly as a sleeping child
until a little after four o’clock the next
morning, ’ when the influence of the
chloroform passed off and he opened
his eyes. He did not seem to suffer
much pain, and occasionally talked to
his attendants. He died at five o’clock,
and, os those who saw him said, “ Died
like a man.” His last words were, “I
am passingdnto the unknown.” -
Joseph and Madame Potlphar.
Waahington Capital.
A French Indy, distinguished in so
• eiety as having more adorers than any
other woman, died the other day, leaving
her husband a freedom he had long
sighed for and an ancient hall. The
beautiful lady was eurhumoc (French
for bad cold) from going to a hall. But
then she must also go to another hall
two nights afterwards instead of staving
in her bod. In vain the doctor told her
it would be her death. The lady cough
ed badly, but replied:
“ But, my friend, do yoti not under
stand that a woman of fashion can af
ford to die, but cannot afford to miss
Count Hopperini’s hall, where all the
most grand world will he. Will 1 die ?
Eh bien, you shall sec ; I give directions
for a more grand funeral than Paris has
yet seen. 1 send for Worth tout do
suite ; I make myself fitted for a liuceul
(French for winding street,) in which I
flatter myself my adorers shall still find
me charming Viola.”
At the hall she was rather more
beautiful and bewitching than usual,
and rftHy, if over had a salon witnessed
a triumph of such eclat; hut the next
day the beauty couldn't move and hud
to semi for a priest, while her husband
was made sad by glancing over the long
itemized prospectus for the funeral.
Placing her fair hand in that of her
husband, the lady said, in faint accents :
“ Monami, if you love me, swear that
you will do something which I shall
ask.”
“ I swear.”
“ Then see that all shall he as t have
directed, especially the black plumes on
the horses heads,” And her mind be
ing easy on that point, she faintly asked
the priest to read something from the
Bible, and when he requested to know
what particular part she liked best, she
replied:
“Alas! I know the good book so lit
tle : but attendez my father, isn’tthcre in
the sacred volume that sweet little story
of the young Joseph and Mme. Potl
phar ? ' Read me that, I pray you.”
And with that reminisence of the
good book the famous belle was rocked
into eternal sleep.
Three Millions of Mothers*
There are said to be three millions of
mothers in the United States. Now
suppose each of these mothers should
consecrate and train up one of her sons
—only one—“ in the way ho should
go”—a noble Christian patriot., unsel
fish, humane and scrupulously just.
What a moral influence there would be,
with the muscle to back it. What
presidents, cabinets, judges and other
public officers we would have ? There
would be no more returning board pres
idents, no more Justice Bradleys. And
for “ woman’s rights,” what noble, du-
tlAil son would deny to woman anything
that pertains to her sphere in lifts ? The
mother’s power is in the training of her
son.
jim’s enters.
O If. X in Tribun*.
" Let’s play circus!”
“ Why, Jim Peters, I’m jitst going
right in to tell mother,” said Jim’s little
Bister Mabel.
“What for?” said Jim.
“ Circuses is such a aw Ail wicked
thing,” replied Mabel. “ Men just
stand on their heads and ride horseback
without sitting down ; and it costs
twenty-five cents, too-"
“ Suppose if you got in without pay
ing anything it wouldn’t lie so wicked?"
said Jim.
" I don’t know, that it It,”
replied Mabel; “only I thought it was
the horses with nothing on ’em, and the
monkeys and things.”
“First,” said Jim, “I suppose we
shall have to choose a president.”
" Are you sure circuses have hesi
dents?” said a little boy who couldn’t
sound his p’s.
" Of course,” said Jim, and as they all
voted for him, he was elected without
much tfOttblei
“ Well, we’ve got to have a tent any
way,” said Mabel, “ cause I saw it in
the picture—a great white tent that
looked like a tremendous big umbrella
made out of sheets dr something,”
Many and varied were the plans sug
gested for this tent, but the president
finally settled the matter by ordering
them all into the woodshed, where they
soon cleared away the chips, and had
plenty of room for the performance.
“ I tell yon what,” said Mabel; “ I
will lie the whale, and sit on this little
wood-pile and bark.”
“ Now, see here, Mabel Peters, I’m
president, and I don’t want a whale at
all; and if I did 1 wouldn't let him
bark, liecause whales don’t hark.
“They only upset boats with their
tails,” said Jim.
“ Then I tell you whnt,” said Mabel,
“ you let Tommy Mace be the boat, and
I’ll upset him ; see if I don’t."
,“ Mabel,” said the president, stefhly,
“if you don’t stop talking at once, I
siiali make you be the audience but I
don’t believe she would have stopped if
the log on which she was sitting hadn't
rolled over and tumbled her up so that
she hod to go into the house for a dean
apron.
“ I suppose,” said the president, “the
first thing to do now is to choose n mon
key. Has any one here ever been a
monkey before?”
“ I never have been one,” said a little
fellow with cheeks as red as a sunset,
“ hut I can soon learn, 1 guess. It is
easy?”
“ Why, all you have to do,” said the
president, “ is to sort of run ’round."
“ Don't monkeys ever say anything?”
asked the red-cheeked boy. But the
president couldn’t tell him. and so it was
decided that lie should say, “ I’m a
monkey. I’m a monkey,” once every
minute, to distinguish him from the
other animals.
" Well, if I can’t be a whale,” said
Mabel, who had jiist returned, “ I’m
going to be a polar beat, or I shan’t
play. Polar bears is nice and soft.
What do they do?”
“ They don’t do anything all day, but
just sit on the ice ami shiver,” said the
president.
“Then I won't be him,” said Mabel.
“What is some real itice respectable
animal, that docs nothing but eat candy
all time? I’ll be him.
“ And I! And I!” Ami 11” shouted
all the little girls, and about hul/ the
boys.
It was some time before the list of
animals was complete, and I don't be
lieve Barnum himself ever had such a
collection in his life.
“ Is there anyone hefewhocan stand
on bin head !” asked the president.
Two small boys, with very big heads,
held ftp their hands.
“ As the performance is about to be
gin,” said the president, “ any animal
but the monkey who speaks a word till
he's spoken to will be put in the corner-”
No the two little boy<* with the big
heads came forward and tried to stand
on ’em. They tumbled this way and
that, and dug their fingers into the dirt,
and kicked their tries so hard that they
went completely over.
“ I guess their heads ain't flat enough
on top,” said Mabel.
“ The next time that animal speaks
without permission she will be severely
punished,” said the president.
Either the heads were too big for the
boys, or the boys too small for the
heaths, I don’t know which, but it was
evident from the first that they couldn’t
stand on them and they withdrew from
the arena, after having worked so faith
fully that their collars came off.
“ The next thing,” said the president
“ will be”—
“ The next thing,” interrupted Ma
bel. “ Why, they ain’t done that yet.
W ant to see me do it.”
•' Mabel Peters, go this minute and
stand in the corner by that black boar.
WHOLE NO. 81
and don’t you whisper to him either,"
said the president.
So Mabel went and stood in the cor
ner.
The next thing proved to be a horse
race between four boys, One was so BT*
citing that the entire collection of ani*
male got Up and clapped their bands
and shouted so loud that Bridget, the
crone cook, came out and boxed one of
the horse’s cars, and the only way they
could console him was to say that he
hod won the race, which wasn’t so at
all { but as the three horses ahead of
him agreed to it, all was right.
“Is there any one here,” said the
president, “ who lias got strong patches
on the kneoß of his pantaloons?”
A little boy got down from the wood
pile and came forward.
“Oh, what splendid big patches,"
said Milbeli “If I was A hoy it seems
to me t should hate pantaloons with
patches Jitst. like those. Wouldn’t
you?” she Whispered to the black bear,
But the black boar didn’t answer. He
had patches, too, Imt they Wem’t on his
knees. Ami he didn't cafe to continue
the subject.
“ My mother said that these are the
last patches she's going to make me,
and if 1 wearixl ’em through I'd hav*
to go so, t hat's all.”
The president told tho boy to get On
liis hands and knees, and then lie called
the monkey down, and told him to ride
three times around the shed pa the
boy’s back,
“ But lie’s got such Uttle legs,” said
the monkey, “ he’ll surely stumble,” and
a shade or two of sunset Went out of his
face.
They Went for a little way all very
well, bur pretty soon the pOny began to
tremble around the knees, and the
monkey was tho sCafledest looking
monkey you ever saw.
“Can I stop?'* said the pony.
“ No,” said the president.
“ Why don’t you whip him Up?” said
Matwl; *• that’s all he needs.”
" That's a tirst rate idea,” said the
presideht, Which took every bit of
strengtli out of the pony's logs, aud
when they picked up the monkey hfl
was rubbing so many parts of himself
that Mabel said he milst have the rheu
matism.
By this time the animals all said that
if they didn't do something tx> they
should go home ; ami the kangaroo, who
had been asleep with his head in the
parrot's lap, said that animals at circus
was no fun at all,
“All right, then," said the president,
we will now have a gland procession of
animals and all tho rest of the circus. - '
So they got down from the wood-pile,
“ Can’t we have some music?” asked
Mabel.
“ lad's slug "Twinkle, twinkle, little
star,* ” said tue elephant; and so they
started otr, making dually quite a re*
spectable show.
It sp happened that tho sleepy kan*
garno was Jast, and as he had lustrum
tinns from the president to hop as high
as he coilld, he was trying to do his best
at it. But he was more than half asleep,
and he hadn't been once around the
shed when lie hopped On the heel of the
guinea-pig, who was just in front of
him. The gUinca*plg gave a tremendous
jump, and knocked over the gentle
lamb, and the gentle lamb was so rnnd
that I'm ashamed to say he kicked the
guinea-pig three or four times; and just
as they all ran up to stop the fight,
Bridget, the ctxik, appeared witli *
broom, and tile animals rushed out the
door, and the gUinea-pig, who lived irt
the next lumse., didn't stop until he was
safe in his mother's arms; while nearly
all the other animals said that if that
was a circus they “ needn’t have to go
to Sunday-school to find out that they
was nwAil things,”
Randolph fttul the Landlord.
,tno. Randolph was t raveling in a part
of Virginia with which he was unac*
quainted. In the meantime he stopped
during the night at an inn at the forks
of the road. The inn-keeper was a fine
old gentleman. Knowing who his dis*
tiuguished guest was, he endeavored to
draw him into conversation, but failed
in all his efforts. But in the mornings
when Mr. Randolph was ready to start,
lie called for his bill which, on being
presented was paid. The landlord,
still anxious to have some conversation
with him, began as follows :
“ Which way are you traveling, Mr.
Randolph ?”
“ Sir!” said Mr. Randolph, with A
look of displeasure,
“ I asked,” said the landlord, " which
way you were traveling,”
“ Have I paid my bill ?”
“ Yes.’*
“ Do I owe you anything more ?”
“ No.”
*• Well, I am going just where I
please—do you understand ?”
The landlord by this time had "ot
somewhat excited, and Mr. Randolph
drove off. But to the landlord’s sur*
prise, the servant returned to inquire
which of the forks of the road to take.
Randolph not being out of hearing dis
tance, the landlord spoke at the top of
his voice:
“ Mr. Randolph, you don’t owe me a
cent; just take which road yon please !**
A little boy, who writes to his “ fren
Jimmy” that he is going to run away
from school and be an editor, thus
closes his letter:
“ Tell yere sister Katv I don’t hav
nothin moar to do with that Jinks girl,
an lam troo to her. I wont git prowd
and forgit her if I do be an edytur, nor
you neether, Jimmy, if yore fokes is
pore an ornery.
Yores, truly, Jobkvy.”