Newspaper Page Text
DO >'OT ALL PEOPLE BUILD THEIR
OMN MONUMENTS
BY D. C. A.
For Tht HartvtU Sun.
In our article week before lust under
the head of “ For Strange People to
Read,” we said in conclusion that “ all
people build their own statues and mon
uments.” We now take the privilege
of manifesting what wc said. The
merchant that buys goods and fails to
meet his payments and makes no
amends has already commenced the
work that lays the foundation for his
monument to rest. upon. The consumer
that buys goods from the merchant and
when called upon to respond in com
pliance to his promises takes the home
stead, schedules, or acts in some other
way to avoid the payment of his debts,
is certainly building his monument.
The mechanic who contracts to build
an fails to comply w ith the
■requirements of the specification is also
laying the corner-stone of his monu
ment that will call to memory his deeds
done during life. And we do not know
that we would be in error if we were tq
say that even some church members
(so-called) fail to comply with their
promises in paying their dues to the
Church when it is left entirely discre
tionary with them. Have such people
not commenced the work that will leave
a dark spot on memory’s record after
they are gone to their destination ?
You never hear or read of a verj’ great
monument being erected to the mem
ory of a person that has lived out a life
of cheating, swindling, defrauding or
lying. Occasionally there are monu
ments erected over the graves of the
rich because of their extreme wealth,
but if all the marble of Carrara were
fashioned by the sculptor’s chisel intp
the mimicry of breathing life it could
not convey to the senses of the people
a likeness so perfect of themselves as
that which they left upon the minds of
tiie people during life. Consequently
it is perceptible that all people carve
their own statues and build their own
monuments. Would there ever have
been a monument to mark the memory
of that noble patriot Lee, had it not
been for his acts during life ? Nay !
Had George Washington not lived the
life he did the gentleman that passed
the eulogy upon him would not have
said : “ We will construct a monument
to mark the spot where repose the re
mains of that frail tenement which
once held his fiery soul. Lay the cor
ner-stone of a inonumeut which shall
adequately bespeak the gratitude of the
whole American people to the illustri
ous Father of his Country! Build it
to the skies, you cannot outreach the
loftiness of his principles. Found it
upon the massive and eternal rock, you
cannot make it more enduring than his
fame. Construct it upon tho peerless
marble, yon cannot make it purer than
bis life. Exhaust upon it the rules and
principles of ancient and modern art,
you cannot make it more proportionate
than his character.” Just honor to
Washington can only ba rendered by
observing his precepts and imitating
bis example, lie built a monument
during life that will stand on memory's
record forever. Without a proper sub
ject, pedestals of granite and polished
columns of marble might be erected
t ill they pierced the skies, and the mar
ble pillars might be covered over witli
the blazonry of his deeds and trophies
of Iris triumphant genius, and sur
mounted with images of his form
wrought by the cunningest hand, and
unless the subject merited all this it
will soon die and his name soon be for
gotten. Notwithstanding a great mon
ument has been erected to his memory
the deeds he committed will last longer
than the polished marble. This is the
kind of monument we are speaking of
—the lnniuimont or principle, anil hoc
the monument of marble.
Mr. Davis’ Misfortune.
Baltimore Gazette.
Mr. Jefferson Davis lost his only son
by yellow fever recently. The young
man bore his father's name and was his
chief stay and comfort. lie was a
youth of noble character and univer
sally beloved. This leaves Mr. Davis
childless. Ilis little son “Joe” died
in Richmond, during the war, of a fall
from tiie porch of the president's house,
lie was a brilliant and lovable child,
and his death caused his mother and
father the deepest anguish. Since the
war closed Mr. Davis lost another son,
a youth full of promise. The hand of
God seems heavy upon this noble
hearted man and his devoted wife.
Misfortunes have followed them. Law
suits have swept away their property ;
disaster has attended Mr. Davis’ busi
ness enterprises, and the business suc
cesses of the young man who has just
<1 ied stood between them and poverty.
Those who hitherto have hated Mr.
Davis most, who have put upon his
simplest words forced constructions and
who singled him out for a vicarious sac
rifice, ought now to feel their malice
turned at last into tender respect and
sympathy.
Near Felchville village, Vermont,
the following inscriptions appear on two
tombstones: “On the 31st of August,
1724. C'apt. James Johnson had a
Daughter born on this spot of Ground,
being Captivated with his whole Fami
ly by the Indians.” “ This is near the
■spot that the Indians Encamped the
A ight after they took Mr. Johnson &
Family, Mr. Labareeand Farnsworth,
August 30th, 1724. And Mrs. John
was Delivered of her Child Half a mile
up this Brook.”
VOL. Ill—NO. 10.
“The tViist Boy.”
Detroit Free Free*.
All the old women for blocks up and
down Sixth street called him “ the wust
boy,” and Jim did much to win the title
and keep it. lie fought everything ami
everybody, harassed cats and abused
dogs, and various attempts have been
made during the last year to get him set
tled in the Reform School. “The wust
boy” has made anew departure, and
though it may not be lasting, as it is for
the better, it will probably furnish op
portunity for some other boy to step in
and claim the unenviable title.
“The wust boy” eared nothing for
the sight of crape on the knob, and a
funeral procession was as good as a pa
rade to him. Surprise was therefore
manifest on every countenance when he
softly knocked at the door the other
week and said:
“ I hain't got no good clothes to go
to the funeral, but I'd like to see the old
lady's face agin afore she’s covered up
in the ground.”
A motherly' old lady in his neighbor
hood had passed away- So far as the
public knew he hated {jer, as he seemed
to hate all the rest, but the public didn’t
know. If Jim had condescended to ex
plain he would have said :
“ Well, yer see one night when that
big Tom Skip laid for me and had me
as good as mashed, this ’ere woman rush
ed out and pulled him off and slammed
him agin the fence till his elbows echo
ed. Then agin, she let me play with
her children, and axed me in to dinner,
and more’n once she’s took up fur me
and said the neighbors didn't g:*"’ me a
fair show.”
They' let him in to see her dead face,
half suspecting to see some ghastly trick
on his part and never dreaming that he
would lean over and kiss the cold cheek,
and that tears would come to his eyes.
“ Where’s the children?” lie asked as
lie turned from the coffin.
“Up stairs, poor things.”
“ It's going to be tuff on 'em isn't it?”
“ Yes ; they wi|l see hard times, poor
darlings.”
“ There’s a little bit of a feller ’mong
’em what’s named Pete,” continued the
“ wust hoy,” “ what’ll it cost a week to
pay his way?”
The women smiled at die idea, but
seeing how earnest Jim was, one of the
women replied:
“ Oh, about fifty cents, I guess.”
The boy went out without a word,
and in the course of half an hour an
other lad handed in a piece of wrapping
paper in which was enclosed a silver
quarter. On the paper was scrawled
the words (the work of two or three
boys) :
“ I hoap she’s gon to bevvins; an’ I’ll
taik car’ of little pete at fifty sents a
weak. Hears the fust ’stalment.
“ Gim.”
The next day he sent in the balance,
and last week the “installment” was
promptly forthcoming. Jim has a boot
black's kit and lias gone to work, and
the old women who cal led him the “ wust
boy,” now look after him and exclaim :
“ Well, now, wlio’d a thought that
boy had a soul in him?”
An Affecting Scene.
We called at Mr. Brown’s a few days
ago on business, and, to our astonish
ment, found him pacing the floor and
weeping as though his heart would
break. We approached him very rev
erently, took his trembling hand in ours
and held it in silence for a few minutes,
while great tears of sympathy swelled
out in our eyes, for we knew that some
great sorrow had come upon him.
As soon as we could get our feelings
under control sufficiently to enable us to
do so, we asked :
“ What means this great anguish of
spirit, this deep, this dark despair? Why
these tears and wherefore these groans?”
He raised his bleered and bloodshot
eyes to ours and exclaimed:
“My wife—”
Another fit of weeping choked his ut
terance, but we knew that she was dead.
We endeavored to comfort him by tel
ling him that he would meet her ere long
in another and better world ; that it was
wrong for us to grieve after our depart
ed friends when we knew it was for
their good and ours that they were taken
away,
“She’s not dead !” he exclaimed, as
he turned his swollen eyes upon us with
a look of unutterable woe. “The old
fool put cayenne pepper in my eyes be
cause I wouldn’t buy her anew bon
net !”
Then he went off into another terrible;
spasmodical fit of weeping and we went
home.
Jewish religious papers have been
publishing reports of cruelties perpe
trated by Bulgarian peasants, some of
which are almost too much for belief.
One story is that the President of the
synagogue in Kasanlyk having been
killed, his blood was caught in a bowl
and mixed with the blood of a number
of dogs. This liquor the Jews of the
town, who were driven together with
thrusts and blows, were forced to drink ;
and it is said that only the arrival of a
body of Russian troops saved them
from death.
s .. .
HARTWELL, GA., WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER RO, 1878.
Dr. Tauler and the Beggar.
From Hubert* Brother' Book of Selection*.
There was once a learned man who
longed and prayed full eight years that
God would show him someone to teach
him the way of truth. And, on a time,
as he was in great longing, it was said
unto him, “ Go to such a church porch,
and there wilt thou find a man that
shall show thee tlio way to blessedness.”
So thither lie went, and found there
a poor man, whose feet were torn and
covered with dust and diit, and all his
apparel scarcely three hellers’ worth.
He greeted him, saying, “God give
thee good-morrow.”
Thereat made lie answer, “ I never
had an ill-morrow.”
Again said lie, “God prosper thee.”
The other answered, never had I
ought but prosperity.”
“God bless thee,” snid*tlie doctor,
“ how answerest thou me so?”
“I was never other than blessed.”
“Explain tome this, for I under
stand not.”
“ Willingly,” quoth the poor man.
“ Thou wishes me good-morrow. I nev
er had an ill-morrow ; for, am 1 an hun
gered, I praise God ; am I freezing, doth
it hail, snow, rain, is fair weather or
foul, I praise God; and therefore had I
never an ill-morrow. Thou didst say,
‘ God prosper thee.’ I have never been
unprosperous, for I know how to live
with God ; I know that what lie dost is
best, and what God givctli or ordaineth
for me, bo it pain or pleasure, that I
take cheerfully from his as the host of
all, and so I had never adversity. Thou
wishest God to bless me. I was never
unblessed, for I desire to be only in the
will of God, and I have so given up my
will to the will of God, that what God
willetli, 1 will.”
Then said the doctor, “ But what if
his will should be to cast thee into hell?
What wouldst thou do then?”
“Cast me into hell? His goodness
holds him back. And even so, I would
sooner be in hell, and have God than in
Heaven, and not have Him.”
“Then understand this, master, that a
true resignation to the divine will, with
utter humility, is the nearest way to
God.”
Moreover the master asked, “ From
wlienst comest thou !”
The poor man answered, “ From God.”
“ Where hast thou found God?”
“ I found him when I had renounced
all creatures.”
“ But who art thou ?” asked the doc
tor.
“ I am a king,” said the beggar. “ My
kingdom is my soul. All my powers,
within and without, do homage to my
soul. This kingdom is greater than any
kingdom on (he earth.”
“ Wliat hath brought thee to this per
fection ?”
“ My silence, my heavenward thoughts
my union with God. For I could rest
in nothing less than God. Now I have
found my God, and have everlasting
rest and joy-in Him.
How a IJird Lined ils Nest.
Petersburg (Fir.) Index.
Some time last week Mr. Wm. H.
Walton, a farmer of Greenville county,
was seated on a fence near a stack of
1 oats, watching the operations of his field
hands, who were at work. While seat
ed a small bird alighted on his shoulder,
and remained there until frightened
away by a blow aimed at it by Mr. Wal
ton. It flew off but a little way, and re
turned to be treated as before, and re
peated this operation until the gentle
man concluded to allow it to remain on
his shoulder in order to ascertain, if pos
sible, what induced it to act as describ
ed. The bird moved closer up to Mr.
Walton’s face, and deliberately com
menced to pluck a mouthful of gray
hair from his beard, after which it flew
away to the oat stack, and disappeared
in the crevices between the sheaves of
oats. Examination of the stack dis
closed the fact that the bird was build
ing its nest and had used the beard for
the purpose of making a lining for the
same. The bird is said to have been of
the wren species.
Milk as a Vehicle for (Quinine.
R. L. Batterbury, M. D., London,
Berkhamstead, Eng., writing to the
British Medical Journal, observes : “ it
is not, I believe, generally known that
milk is an elegant and convenient sol
vent for quinine, and that it disguises
to a great extent its bitterness. If one
grain of sulphate of quinine be dis
solved in an ounce of milk, we shall
find that the bitterness of the draught
is hardly perceptible ; with two grains
there is rather more bitterness, but it is
not at all marked. A dose of five
grains may be taken in two ounces of
milk without an unpleasantly bitter
taste ; and if the same quantity be put
into a tumblerful of milk the bitterness
is all but lost. This method of admin
istering quinine must in some cases be
preferable to the ordinary way of dis
solving it in acid or spirits, especially
where the bitter taste is objected to—
as in the case of children—or where
the required dose is large; and it will
doubtless be found to possess other ad
vantages.”
Morse than Bad Weather.
Dr.Swicksley was passingnlong Front
street, one of the hottest days of the
week, when lie noticed a 1 irge crowd
gathered in front of a tenement house a
short distance ahead. The doctor hur
ried forward, and elbowing his way
through the crowd, found a man lying
prostrate on the sidewalk.
“ I‘rcss back,good people, press hack.”
said the kind hearted doctor, “ and give
the man air. I am a physician, and
will bring him around presently. 1 see
how it is, the man is sunstruok. This
heat is terrific, and people will soon die
like sheep, if the weather doesn’t change.
Somebody run for a piece of icc.”
A blear-eyed woman, with a gaunt,
hardened face, edged forward and said :
“ Do vou say that man is sunstruok,
Doc?”
“ Certainly, madam, certainly; the
symptoms are clear and well defined.”
“ Well, then, all that I’ve got to say,
is, that the symptoms lies like nil blazes.”
said the woman putting her hands on
her hips, and winking at the crowd.
“My dear madam, what do you
mean? .Would you contradict the opin
ion of a professional man, hacked up by
all the truths of science?” said the doc
tor, squeezing his ear down tight against
the man’s chest.
“ If you say that man is sunstruok,
you don’t know nothin’ about it,” said
she doggedly. “ The sun never touched
him, not once. The good-for-nothiu’lazy
whelp, takes mighty good care not to
give it a chance at him. About all he
does is to fill his hide with slop an’ set
round in the shade, while his poor, hard
workin’ wife has to drudge her life out
to keep the children from starvin’.”
“ What’s the matter with him, then ?”
asked a fatherly old gentleman on the
inner edge of the crowd.
“ Well, sir, I struck him myself, and
I’d do it again ; that’s what’s the matter
with him. The bloat was two-thirds
drunk, and pitched on to his wife—that
pale little boy crying over him —an’ be
gan pouudin’ her out of all mercy, an’
so I jest waltzed in with a bag o’ sand
that I kept for scourin’, an’straightened
him offi, ifiSt as vou find him. I
I’ve kind o stunned him a little, for you
see he’s rousin’ up already, hut the pity
is that I didn’t finish him altogether the
mean, ornery, trifling loafer.”
“Sunstruek! —well, now, Doc, you
was sold, but then I am a regular old
crusher, an' it ain’t to be wondered at.
If I’d a went at him with my bare fist,
you’d a swore he’d been struck by light
niu’. I’m worse than a bad spell o’
weather, I am.”
A Woman Mho Has Had 44 Children.
Neic York Time*.
Some persons have given themselves
considerable uneasiness lent from the
paucity of children born to American
parents of late years, the race should
die out. Certainly, the size of families,
from whatever cause, has been greatly
reduced i:i this country during the pres
ent generation. Where there used to be
eight, nine and ten children, there are
not more than two, three, or four at
most, two being what may lie called the
regular number. There are many ex
ceptions, however to this rule. A con
spicuous exception is Mary, wife of
Wm. Austin, now a resident of Wash
ington. who lias had 44 children, only
II of them born alive. She had twins
thirteen times and triplets six times.
Her sister, Mrs. Carrie Kinney, aged
forty-three, has had twenty-six chil
dren, and her husband’s sister has had
forty-one children, making a total of
111 for three women. This seems
almost incredible, though the figures
are vouched for. Mrs. Austin, a na
tive of South Carolina, and reared in
Tennessee, is the daughter of John G.
Klind, a printer. She was extremely
loyal during the civil war, and rendered
excellent service to the cause by nurs
ing and administering to the sick and
wounded in the army of the Cumber
land, often going on the field and tak
ing wounded soldiers from the front
where they had fallen. She is a regu
lar physician, and has practiced for 25
years, having been one of the first
women doctors in the country. She
studied medicine in New Orleans under
the well known Dr. Stone. She lost
an eye ■while with the army' in the val
ley of Virginia, received medals for the
able and fearless manner in which she
had discharged her duty, and was
granted likewise a regular commission.
She is fifty-four, of good proportions
and appearance, and, as may be infer
red, of vigorous constitution. Her
husband was also in the union army,
and must have been a gallant soldier,
for he bears the marks of a score of
serious wounds, which would have kill
ed any man lesstough. The Klind and
Austin blood is so prolific that a few
members of the families would be wel
come immigrants;to anew and thinly
settled country. Where they were,
progenity would be assured. Mrs.
Austin, judging by Napoleon’s stand
ard as revealed by Mme. D. Stael, is
unquestionably the greatest woman in
America.
Christmas will soon be here.
WHOLE NO. 114.
Work ami Pray.
Asa and Ira wore two brothers, whose
farms lay side by side in a fertile vale.
When the young corn, the oats and the
barley were springing up, the weeds
ook advantage of the rich soil, and
came up with them.
“Do you see,” said Asa, “what a
hold the weeds are taking! There is
danger of their choking out the crops
entirely.”
" Well, well, we must be resigned,”
said Ira. *• Weeds as well as grain
were a part of the Creator’s plan.”
And ha lay down for a part of his
afternoon doze.
“ I can only be resigned to wliat I
cannot help,” said Asa. So he went to
work, and plowed and lioed until the
fields were clear of weeds.
“ The army worm is in the neighbor
hood,” said Asa to Ira one day. “It
has eaten its way through the neighbor
ing meadows, and is fast moving to
ward us.”
“Ah,” exclaimed Ira, “ it will surely
destroy what the woods have not choked
out. I will immediately retire to pray
that its course may be stopped or turn
ed aside.”
But Asa replied : “ 1 pray betimes
every' morning for strength to do the
work of the day'.” And he hastened
to dig a trench around his land which
the army worm could not pass ; while
Ira returned from his prayers only in
season to save a portion of his crops
from its ravages. •
“Do you sec. Ira," said Asa another
morning, “the river is rising, and there
is hut a small chance of .preventing our
farms from being overflowed.”
“Alas ! it is a judgment upon us for
our sins ; and what can we do !” said
Ira, throwing himself down upon the
ground in despair.
“ There arc no judgments so severe
as those which our own sloth brings
upon us,” said Asa. And he went
quickly, and hired workmen with whose
help Le raised an embankment that
withstood the flood ; while Ira witness
ed with blank looks the destruction of
all his wealth.
44 l ltoro ig film oonoolftiion,’ 1 oaUl In .
“my children are left me.” But while
Asa’s sons grew up strong and vigorous
men, among Ira’s there, was a drunkard,
a gambler and a suicide.
“The ways of the Lord are not
equal,” said Ira to Ids brother. “Why
have you always prospered while I am
afflicted, and my old age is disgraced ?”
“I only know this,” replied Asa,
“ that Heaven always helps me to meet
my children's faults as I met the weeds,
the caterpillars and the flood ; and that
I never presumed to send a petit ion up
ward without making toil mv righthand
servant, the messenger of my prayer.”
Out in Bellville they started a hotel
the other day, and, as a matter of course,
it was necessary to number the rooms.
There was not a painter in the town and
not so much as a piece of chalk could
he found around the house. At last a
happy idea possessed the landlord. Tak
ing a pack of cards and a paper of tucks
he began with the ace and continued up
to the king, numbering the rooms in a
novel and entirely orijwnal manner. If
it evcrbecomcß necessary to make addi
tional numbers for extra rooms the suit
may he changed, and s<>, continued up
to fifty-two, by which time a painter
may he imported for the purpose of ex
tending the figures. Until then the
clerk will he compelled to speak “ the
man in No. tray of hearts,” or “the lady
in No. deuce of clubs.” Necessity is
the mother of invention.
“Yes, fellow citizens.” said a wild
Western orator, “ with gold at par, green
backs at a premium, the tax taken off
raw whisky, our debts all paid, and lib
: erty —dear old gal! has anew dress and
the American eagle an additional arrow
and a fresh olive branch, I ask what is
to prevent us from being the greatest
people on earth? I pause for a reply.”
Just at this point a mellow old egg ex
ploded right on the bridge of his nose,
and he added : “The pause will con
tinue until I can bust the stuffin' out o'
the lop-cared leper that slung that c
Whoope ! let me at him.” —Cincinnati
Breakfast Table.
Calhoun was a Virginia infidel. He
wrote a book against Christianity and
peddled it throughout the State. When
ever a camp-meeting was in progress,
there he was to be found selling his book
and making speeches. Recently be fell
among the encamped negro Methodists
of Crab Bottom. They set about con
verting him. They surrounded him,
drowned bis voice with prayers and
singing, got him on his knees, and final
ly brought him to repentance. lie
burned his books, and has taken the
agency for a Christian publication.
Savannah News: It i3 said that Hon.
Alexander H. Stephens has made $35,.
QUO by the sale of his “ Constitutional
View of the War.” While we hope
this is true, we nevertheless very much
doubt the correctness of the statement.
Farmers in Gonzales County, Texas,
give half of their cotton to pickers, the
I crop is so abundant.
MRS. HARIIILL'S PINNER.
BY KOI.ANTING.
Chicago Lnlgrr.
It is not always that the same cir
cumstances have the same effect on two
different persons.
Our friend Mrs. Barhili is still pon
dering upon that fact —and “ thereby
hangs a tale.” You sec it happened in
this wise. Mrs. 11. one day read about
the woman whose husband was too
slack to provide wood, so she set a pot
of vegetables in the sun to be boiled.
When the farmer came in to dinner, the
sun not having performed the cooking
to suit his taste, he immediately went
forth and gathered the required wood.
Now that story amused Mrs. Barhili.
She fairly shook with laughter and de
light. Such a splendid joke ! Sud
denly a thought struck her. Why not
play the same joke on Mr. Barhili ?
But, then, she had no excuse, for
there was plenty of wood In the box.
Mr. Barhili was a model husband,
albeit he was just a little flashy-tem
pered sometimes. But he always pre
! vided everything necessary for his wife's
1 comfort, and wliat excuse could she
| have ?
But Mrs. Barhili was a deep woman !
Never was there a difficulty she could
not master ! An hour of solemn medi
tation solved this one. There was no
lire in the cook-stove! Building fires
was a dirty, uncomfortable job. Clearly,
it was a man’s work to build a fire.
If lie could not do so he did not de
serve any dinner. For fifteen years
she had slaved herself to build fires for
dinner. She would do it no longer.
I lor husband should suffer the eonse
quences of his neglect. Having ar
rived at this conclusion, she set cheer
fully to work, and the fresh vegetables
which Mr. Barhili had just managed to
secure for a boiled dinner were soon
carefully prepared for cooking.
When dinner-time came, Mrs. Bar
hill prepared the table with smiles of
| anticipation dancing all over her face
| —laid the snowy cloth, arranged the
plates and knives, and, last of all, t lie
unboiled dinner (in covered dishes)
graced the board. Mr. Barhili was
very particular about having covered
dishes to keep the edibles hot. She
heard his step, and was obliged to
bury her face in her handkerchief be
fore meeting him at the door, as usual,
with a pleasant smile. It is thought
her smile was unusually pleasant that
day, but Mr. Barhili did not observe
it. lie himself was feeling particular
i ly good.
It was not entirely the thought of
! the bargain he had just made with poor
nidwrr lj.unes, nor entirely the dinner
lie was to enjoy, but the two combined.
His face was lighted with pleasure as
seated himself at the table; so was
.Mrs. Barhill's. •• Wliat a pleasure it
is.” lie began, in his most cheerful
tones ; “ wiiat a pleasure it is to come
home and find such a neat, happy-look
ing wife, and such a nicely-cooked din
ner—” Just at this point lie attempt
ed to take a potato on liis fork ; it re
sisted his efforts ; he tried again, and
- if rolled from the dish and landed upon
the floor. “Maria.” he ejaculated,
i•• what ails these potatoes?” Maria
assumed a highly-injured air, and ex
plained to Mr. Barhili the reason of
the uncooked eatables. He listened
with a look of amazement. For a mo
ment he stood at the table with an idi
ot ie expression. When she had finish
ed, and sat waiting for him to declare
lie was n brute and won id build nil the
fires thereafter, lie rose from the table.
He seemed much moved. He softly
I took Maria’s head under one arm, and
j between intervals of stuffing raw pota
toes and beets into her mouth was heard
to ejaculate:
"l did think, when I married you,
that you had some sense ! Since— you
—like—victuals—cooked— in this way
— you — shall—eat 'em I” Then Mr.
Barhili seized his hat, and wont down
town and dined at a restaurant.
Mrs. Barhili did not speak for two
hours—she was engaged in extracting
the aforesaid potatoes from her throat.
When she had fished up the last one,
she drew a deep sigh, and murmured in
a plaintive tone, “ Well, now, did you
ever ! 'There's no accounting for that
man's freaks!”
A Paris journalist notes anew way
of whipping the devil around a stump :
The defendant, having been proved
guilty of the offense of calling the com
plainant opprobious names, as “thief,”
“robber,” Ac., is duly fined. He pays
his fine and asks the judge: “ Your
honor, there is, I understand, a law
against calling an honest man a thief;
does the law forbid a man to call a thief
an honest man ?” “Of course not,” re
plies the magistrate. “ Then, sir,” snvs
the defendant, turning to the prosecu
tor, with a triumphant air, “you are
the most honest man I have ever met.”
On November sth Congressional elec
tions will beheld in the following States:
Alabama, Arkansas, Connecticut, Dela
ware, Florida, Georgia, Illinois, Kansas,
Kentucky, Louisiana, Maryland, Mas
sachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, Missis
sippi. Missouri,Nebraska, Nevada, New
Hampshire, New Jersey, New York,
North Carolina. Pennsylvania, Rhode
Island. South Carolina, Tennessee, Vir
ginia, Wisconsin.
Perry Mills and Frank Griffith met
in Visalia, Cal., after long separation.
They were very glad indeed to see each
other. “ I’ve been looking for you
more'n two years,” said one. “ This is
what I’ve been longin' for,” said the
other. Then each drew a revolver and
began to fire. The wounds were nu
merous, but not mortal.