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"Oar Ambition is to make a Yeracions Work, Reliable in its \ g Statements, Candid in its Conclusions, and Just in its Views. ”
VOL. I.
It i8 estimated that $250,000 worth of
Crain was raised on the unused portion
,f public ro ads in Iowa last season.
There are in Germany alone 8000
Sunday schools, 80,000 teachers and
300 000 scholars, where twenty-five years
4g o there w a3 not one.
The sum of $400,000 was recently
offered for the well-known English
medical journal, the Lancet , which was
founded in 1823 by Doctor Wakely. The
offer was declined, the paper not being
fnr sa i e . “
Three physicians have left Paris for
Australia, taking with them germs of
chicken cholera. The Australians are
about to adopt Pasteur’s plan of de
stroying their rabbits, in the face of
very strong opposition.
In the office of the Recorder of Deeds,
Philadelphia, is preserved a justice’s
docket over 100 years old. One of the
entries in the volume is as follows:
“Commonwealth agt. Stephen Blunt,
July 24, 1778. Charged of drinking
Damnation to General Washington and
all his army. Defendant held in £200.”
Ten tons of Texan cotton seed were
recently shipped from Texas to Zanzibar,
Africa. An experienced planter accom
panied the seed for the purpose of in
structing the natives of Zanzibar in the
cultivation of the cotton plant. This
event marks the introduction of the cot
ton plant on the eastern coast of Africa.
Tho Reverend A. J. Swartz, of Chi
cago, a believer in metaphysical healing,
says that a letter was recently sent by a
family in New Zealand describing the
symptoms of a friend in this country who
was sick with diphtheria. So graphically
was the epistle written that its recipients
in New Zealand at once became ill frem
diphtheria.
Old Fhilip Winebiddle, the founder of
the lYinebiddle Estate in East Liberty,
Penn., bought 100 acres of land where
the City of Erie now stands sixty years
ago and paid $500 for it. Almost be
fore the ink was dry on the papers he
made up his mind that he had been
swindled, but thirty years later the land
could not be bought for $2,000,000, and
it is now worth $3,000,000.
A correspodent, writing from Havana,
says that ne never saw a people so clean
in regard to their dress. A Cuban stev
edore will load molasses on a vessel for
a week and one can hardly find a spot
upon the white suit when Saturday night
comes. The clerks in Havanna look as
if they had just stepped out of band
boxes. They are usually dressed in pat
ent leather gaiters, silk stockings and
linen trousers and shirts that are spot
lessly white.
According to United States Consul,
Smithers, our Chinese brethren have
recently been playing some sad tricks
upon the barbarian merchants of the
M est. Camels’ hair and wool received
in London fromTientsin have been loaded
with sand to the extent of one-third
of their weight; hides have been gener
ally woimy, and many shipments of
straw braids have been a total loss, ow
ing to damp straw and inferior dyes.
Many of these Chinese commodities are
now coining to this country.
It is a matter of general interest to
know that in two years more a century
will have elapsed since the first success
ful crop of sea-island cotton was raised
by William Elliott, at Hilton Head,
8outh Carolina. It is suggested that it
would be appropriate that South Caro
lina should take steps to celebrate in
'■•no the centenary of the creation of
tliis great staple, which has been so im
portant an element in the material pro
gress of that and other Southern States.
' ommenting on this suggestion the
Charleston Mews and Courier says:
The matter is well worthy of consid
eration. The finest cotton in the world
is grown on the sea islands of South
’ arolina. A cotton exposition to be
held in Charleston in the fall of 1890
’’ould be an appropriate way in which to
dualize one of the greatest events in
l? 'istory of American life. The first
from°* 8 -^■ mcr ^ orb ‘ caa T"he cotton most was remarkable shipped
achiever in the cultivation of the
staple , , , nav
(arolina pit. ned th labors f g h
... :. crs. Here we have every
___ and°the n uLs'c
dot e .f he ib P ! laat ting the Jt « ? uaIitiea groWG
at our very \ lcked ,
fields; it is ginne'e. 11 13 P ln ™
in our presses, ^"houses, nd women packed la our
mills, shipped from woul<f o har ; eS Th ° U
sands of people ' ‘
tion in honor of the ki nda “ ex f s >
and there is nc ^ out ^ ern
commerce, co^ or P
in which he can hold his
Charleston, the first and best N^an m
can cotton ports.” tnen
;
GRAY, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, MAY 26, 1888.
LOVE ETERNAL.
The changing sky hath glories ever new;
The evening splendors bring a fresh delight;
The Thesun morning each rises day clothed in new born light
creates his throning blue:
The stars at evening shine upon the dew,
Not with those rays which broke primeval
night;
Those leaves return not which last year were
bright.
This spring hath others of the self same
hue.
Yet the same law reneweth flower and
spray;
ot are the sun and stars the same alway;
In the same heavens their wonders they
proclaim.
And such is love, in times past and to-day,
Delighting still fresh deeds and songs to
frame,
But in its inmost heart abiding still the
same.
—Edgar Foskctt
SERAPHINE’S ROMANCE.
ISY EVELYN THOItr.
She irresistibly suggested a bird. Not
.
a plump, consequential, prosperous-look
mg robin. Not any sort of bird with
gay plumage quite (Mile. Seraphine’s plumage
wa< of the dullest and the most
modest). Not a dapper little sparrow,
either. Mile. Seraphine was small
fighting enough. But there was no spark of the
have propensity held in her; she could
never her head up again if she
had had hot words with any one. The
bird Mile. Seraphine, with her faded
yellow hair, was always suggestive of w T as
a canary—the meek, underfed variety cf
canary which passes its existence in a
wooden cage at a high rear window
where the sun never shines. The other
kind which pearls its beaming notes
behind gilded bars, and is fed by her own
dainty longs fingers in madam’s boudoir, be
of course to quite a different class
of canary, as every one knows.
It was Mile. Seraphine’s fate, shy, re
served, delicately relined little spirit that
she was, to be lodged in a large, clamor
ous boarding house in a down-town
cross and street, far over east, filled early
late with the effluvia of cooking
and the boisterous slamming of doors'.
To be sure, she did not hear much of the
clamor during the day. She had her
lessons to give. She taught her native
tongue in various edut ational establish
ments where the daughters of our
Gotham families are instructed in the
last refinements of civilization, and where
her faded yellow hair (they thought it
was brella a wig) and her water proof and um
hilariously (a cotton one, these young ladies
of much abiding particularized) were the cause
merriment. It is pos
sible that Mile. Seraphine was quite un
conscious of these graceful little jests.
She was a trifle nearsighted and absent
minded, too, at times. One rainy night,
a night when the wind made wild
clutches at one’s umbrella and the street
lamps later flared, Mile. Seraphine came in
and more weary than usual, and met
her landlady on the stairs.
“There’s no use,” said that worthy
person, whose equanimity seemed to have
suffered a most serious shock, “that fel
low’s got to go."
no better? Oh!” murmured
Mile. Seraphine, not so wet or tired but
that she could stop to listen to this tale
of woe. Oh, yes, he’s better! But he’s
got to go all the same. I can’t keep him
no more. I’ve got my own interests to
look after. And he ain’t got a cent to
pay his board with, and I’ve lost ten dol
lars by him already.”
“Oh.'.” mnrmured Mile. Seraphine
again. She went to the dining-room,
where she ate, without appetite, the rem
nants of a cold dinner, and then back to
her own little room, where she took out
books and the pile of exercises waiting
to be corrected. But she could not fix
her mind and her heart was heavy with
in her. She finally rose and, extracting
a worn old purse from her little leather
trunk, counted over its meagre contents.
This much had been laid aside to buy a
new against pair of shoes and a heavier cloak
the Winter. But there wore
more urgent needs even than her own.
Alas! How full the world was of
trouble!
She wrapped what the purse contained
hllT e At1h Pe a l d thC “ S /° le Cr0SS th
hali. At tho sick man’s door she h paused l
with a heating heart. It was very hard
to do these things. How should she
avoid offending? Perhaps he was asleep,
and then she could slip the envelope
under his handand leave the room again
unnoticed. The door was partly ajar,
and she pushed it very softly. But
were w n e r» 1C wide ^T nan open and ^i 0t seemed c aSle !!t' twice w too .
had liaTl left f R V, him, hlS h but 1 \ 9t h he d looked so !o frciZ feeble
and spent that Mile. Seraphine beauti- s pity
welled up in her eyes in a look so
ful that it made her for the moment al
most lovely. He was much younger
than she, and she felt like a mothei to
him. Besides, it suddenly seemed easier,
seeing him lie there, a fellow-creature,
friendless, ill and in that distre-s, helping to hand offer
simply and earnestly
held. the^mod As ^amaritan for Stephen wouid Holme, not have when witt be
understood wha sh f
him m his weak , state, ( after his
loneliness and hopefulness, it was too
much. For a few seconds he could not
*P ea
“Mile. ,,, Seraphine, „ ,. if ., eterl r get nn on mr- my
* et '^ again j Tviondod
^!pp , .
(.laontJi’o- S f’hin
little hands softlv in
her Fre cli , “flo not sav 1 anything b
- ":
more. soon n But ! now C0U ” you e „T,°“ must S think in?nk of of noth- no h
mg but that.
And tlien he huinel awa .
Youth-and the one ray of sunshine,
the one token of human go ,
S mi (^d their work
A«d the got better, and
finally well enough to crawl out of doors
on one of the last mild days of the early
winter and to look for other quarters.
•‘’Cause if he ain’t got no situation,
and no money cornin’ in I can’t keep
him,” announced Mrs. Brady, conclus
ively. that “There’s othet parties that’ll take
room, and sure pay. And I can’t
take no risks.”
Mile. Seraphlne shrank away a little,
and flushed faintly over her sallow cheek,
as she often did at Mrs. Brady’s words.
But then she upbraided herself for men
tally She accusing the landlady of brutality.
was a poor woman, too. Once more
she had recourse to another little fund
tucked away in the leather trunk, and
this time it was the last there saved up.
“It is very little. But it may do for
the first few weeks till—” she added
eagerly, seeing the young man’s flush,
you get something to do.”
“I can’t take anything more from you,
Mile. Seraphine. God bless you!”
“You will hurt me,” she said, “if you
refuse. H
And so he took it. But getting any
thing passed to do was hard. And the days
on. And once, coming back
footsore and dejected and faint, for he
was not yet strong, to the room over a
shop lodged, on the avenue hard by, where he
he met Mile. Seraphine return
ing from her lessons.
“Where is it you live?” she asked.
The following day there was a timid
knock at his door. She had brought
him some copying to do.
“I got it without any trouble,” she
said, with her deprecating eagerness, be
fore he could speak; “they thought it
was for myself.”
After that, one day, while giving her
lesson in the house of a French resident,
who had married an American lady, and
to whose children she had been nursery
governess, she heard the son, who
happened his to be at home, casually remark
that father needed an extra clerk. An
idea implanted itself then under Mile.
Seraphine’s queer little faded yellow
curls, and germinated on the morrow.
The French gentleman’s office was on
aphine Bowling Green. Poor little Mile. Ser
entered it3 precincts with a tre
mendous spirit and a faltering step.
Her whilom employer looked up with
a mored scowl which changed recognition to a good-hu- of her.
smile upon his
He had always liked this grotesque-look
ing found little heart Seraphine, and errand. Mile. Seraphine
to state her
“Well, what sort of references has he,
this young protege of yours?” he asked
at length.
“Oh, 1 am sure they will be found of
the very best!” cried Mile. Seraphine,
clasping The her hands most earnestly. laughed and
French-American
looked down at her quizzically.
“It’s evident that they would be if
you had the giving ol them,” he Cried
with jocose intention. And Mile. Sera
phine whelmed blushed crimson, and was so over
with confusion that she turned
the wrong way to go out.
“This way,” said the gentleman, tak
ing her with playful good nature by the
arm.
In T the it little side i office a, into ■ . which i . . she ,
had blundered a young girl sat over a
type-writer, (.he laised her eyes for
second, and Mile. Seraphine thought she
had never seen a more ovely lace.
“Oh, what a beautiful young creature!”
she wispered as she went out. “But how
c ob '
She , has leason to . , be, poor child,
said her pilot sympa hetieally. “It is
one of those reverses of fortune which are
much too common with us over here.
Her father was well to do ; he died pen
mless. “Poor The girls a !” 1 s.gned had to something. Mile Sera
creatures
phine, whose heart was always bleeding
lor some one.
On the evening before the day when
he was to begin his duties in his new po
srtion, Stephen Holme asked Mile. Sera
phine to take a walk with him. It was
a soft and balmy starlit night, a respite
and breathing space half way between
the beginning and the end of the winter.
1 hey walked into t eadjacen square.
It preoccupied was silent and and lonely said Stephen was
little for some
anTno onewas ffisiuht S t, ^e he betran began t re mu calf
lnuslv !
“Mile Seranhine
Mile Seranhine looked un and then
down with a prophetic emotion which
r °i Cd her that S0 T t iDg never bef0r °
heard of f was going . to happen. b
“Mile. Seraphine, if I get on, will you
‘
man-vine?” ,
Well, as soon as she could speak she
urge d upon him the difference in their
yearS) b<;r plainness, the obvious fact
that, with his way to make, he must not
hamper himself with a wife.
w “Ferhaps ” Stephen you said think it is gratitude
on have gravely. “It is not.
You b(!en ’ an<l are > more t0me tlian
any one else ever was.”
And so they became engaged. And
Mile. Seraphine, who had always looked
0 i der than she really was, seemed to
grow by that much younger, and more,
as the winter spread on and the spring
weathe r came, when, after Stephen
H o lme bad had hls dinner, he would ;
call for her, and they would take the
cars to the park, and waik slowiy about
under the weet-smeHmg trees or sit in
tbe i ltt i e gummer house and look out on I
the small sheet of water.
After A with Stephen Holme had been a month
or two his new employer he had seen
a chance .°mised formaking an investment which
P r good results, had and in his talks
with Mile. Seraphine lamented his
P ov f rt y, which prevented him taking ad
Va ?v,^° f t- tV '’' bera P blne ® a,r j
DOthlU ff p IjUt f J- 10 ^ ext day *he had
’
gone t tr ’ n t le f a '' 1 ""” bank , and ” ut r>f l 4 I
. lar f by n dollar f„ , and ? lau b “ ard away » Baved against up sick- dol-1
ness, Stephen. against a rainy It day, and brought it
t0 worldly represented all her
missession and Stephen, who
had not dreamed of its^ existence,, re
v i’.l.f.i.owed 4 , i hlJiS R L.pteS
«
At first all had promised well. But one
evening Stephen had come in looking
miserably nothing haggard and white. He said
until they sat in their accustomed
place and then by the water’s edge in tho park,
he broke down and, crying like
a child, told her that the money was all
gone; the investment had proved disas
trous.
Then Mile. Seraphine had laid her hand
on his arm and, forcing him to raise his
head, had shown him a face oa which
there was only pity for him and a per
fectly serene smile. What did it. mat
ter? Was it his fault? she asked. Were
they not able to work both of them?
Was not one there to help the other?
about “Seraphine”—Stephen the put his arm
queer little figure and kissed
her—“you are the best woman on God’s
earth. ”
She hoped he would forget tho mis
chance. And after awhile he did seem
to weeks brighten she fancied again. But within a few
that he grew paler and
that there was a troubled look in bis
eyes. In her delicate soul sho shrank
from plying him with questions. She
feared that he was thinking still of that
little sum of hers he had taken and lost.
In every subtle way she tried to show
her indifference to the loss. And Stephen,
on his side, was constantly more gentle
and tender with this pale, weird-looking
little creature who was to be his wife.
She felt vaguely that it was as though ho
wished to atone to her for something.
.The summer was now well advanced,
and the days and nights succeeded each
other in slow and sultry order. Wisps
of straw and greasy waifs of brown
paper invaded the choicer sections of tho
the city, now forsaken of their tenants, and
cordant heavy air was filled with the dis
wail of distant hand organs.
Well, all, Seraphine’s pupils had flown, one
and for the summer, and she had
made her plans for her ten days’ vacation
at a farm house ou Long Island which
constituted her one yearly diversion.
until Stephen Monday, would go out from Saturday
and what more could one
wish? If she had not been so keenly
alive to the sorrows of so many of her
fellow-beings continually whose around wretchedness and thinlc- she
saw her,
ingof be taking whom it seemed days almost sinful to
ten whole of idleness and
gladness, the world, as she rode down
to give,Stephen Bowling Green one last bright morning to
trails/ some direction as to
“a" or what not—for one—would this expedition have been
was momentous
to Mile. Seraphine more beautiful than
'i'h,e head of the firm was away, as
were.many of his subordinates, but a boy
told Mile. Seraphine where she would
find Stephe n Holme.
She passed into the office where she
had pleaded Stephen's cause with the
head of the firm that day, and finding
it empty turned toward the other parti
tioned inclosure where tho beautiful girl
sat over the type writer.
But then she stood still. She made no
sound. She was only there a moment,
ye. -it seemed like eternity. Stephen
fvas in there, anti ha stood before the
beantifu! girl and looked down at her,
with 8U ch a passion of love and
gorrow and renunciation in his
f while she buried hers in
her hand ’ that a vei , tore away before
Mlfo . s ' hlne and sho rea d the secret
cf tbe las t few mon ths, of Stephen’s
altered looks, of his troubled eyes, of his
increased devotion—devotion which was
onl , lt that would not permit itself
to 8W tho erve, ’ however had tempted-as Written in plainly fiery
a , « h it been
charact rs before hel ,
she turned and £ p;isgcd out people again. And
neither of tll0SC t 0 young J ” \ \ who
loved eacb other hftd sec mr so ab .
sorbed had they J been in their own
d f a ; r
T he gas flftred bigb in Mlle< Seraphine’s
room tbafc night . high and late. And
wben the morning Gripped dawned the little room
was dismantIecl ’ “ of its few poor
]Ut , effort8 at \ race Dd pret tiness, and
the smaU leat er trunk was packed,
q any f mon ths ago a letter had come to
MUe Seraphine \ from a cousin who, go
■ far cu Wcst , bad settled; a letter
tellin £ her that if sho chose to come sho
migbt be ab]e t0 teach something considered there,
though Frenchmight pupTs still had be all paid for a
su P erfluity ’ The
1 ^Bhe
would not leave any trace behind her.
!,,irhra,lit Tf she did sttenben P would Th!t still twiliim
w
What! lie so young, so handsome!
such^as marry a faded nlaffi middle-aged woman
she was. One who looked no
wild and haggard reddened^eyes, in the grav morning he*r
light, hollow with cheeks! her had and
No, no. bhe only
been dreamimr It must never be Bv
and by, Stephen, who had only cured for
her because he could not be unorateful
would forget and marry the beautiful
rrj r [ he loved and he should be hannv
And for her there was always enough to
car ry her on a few months and then—
who knows'’
And that is why a good natured man,
traveling wondered westward that same day,
once or twice whether the
queer-looking f adf d little party with the
. )ock of yellow hair who sat next
him could be crying l ,Z_ behind iier thick
veiL IIe fancied 0 New York Mercury,
'
— ■ ———---
A Novel Scale.
Three men of Chillicothe, Ohio, are
about to begin tho manufacture of a
novel scale for which they hold patents,
Instead of weighing in pounds
ounces it indicates the value of articles
weighed. For example, if a man buys
butter at 80 cents a pound, an indicator
is placed at 30. 'i liis so adjusts the
sca | 0 that the lower indicator shows the
value of any weight of butter at that
price that is put on the scales. The
machines on this principle will be
manufactured to weigh up to tons.—
Ctucoyo Mali.
The j.oriki.ll., d~„ b, meo, i. tb.
national vehicle of Japan.
HOUSEHOLD MATTERS.
Woman’s Work.
With many a turn my steps I take.
in many a crook and crevice,
And many a biscuit I must bake
For Maud and me and Levis.
I sweep, 1 dust, 1 cook, 1 rise
I Up in the morning early, and
wash the breakfast dishes
I chum and dress tho baby,
I make the dust and dry leaves fly
I Against my new broom fairly.
chatter, Because chatter ns I go,
I rest so rarely,
“For men may corrto and men may go,
But I go on forever, ever,
I go on forover.”
I move about and in and out,
While here tho chickens feeding,
And here and there at' a hawk to shout,
But little they are heeding.
I walk, I run, I skip, I hop
From one thing to another;
I stop to dress a bruise or cut,
For the children run to mother
Then to tho garden 1 must go
To see what work is needed,
For plants must bo set out, you know,
And then they must be weeded.
For men can’t stop, for they must go,
But wo Work on forever, ever,
We work on forever.
I scrape t he tray and “put to rights"
The dining room and kitchen,
I then go in iny room to sow
And try to do some stitching.
I wonder if there is on earth
No respite from our labors,
No time to go and gossip some
With pleasant, friendly neighbors.
Before i end this piece of work
And try to think a little,
I throw it down and run and make
A tiro, and put on tho kettle.
For men must eat and go, you know,
But women can go, never.
Yes, men will come and men will go,
But we work on forever, over,
We work on forever.
— Courier-Journal.
Hard and Son Water fn Cooking.
All cooks do not understand the dif
ferent effects produced by hard and soft
water in cooking meat and vegetables.
Peas and beans cooked in hard water,
containing lime or gypsum, will not boil
tender, because these substances harden
vegetable caseinc. Alany vegetables, as
onions, boil nearly flavor tasteless boiled in soft water, The
because all the is out.
addition of salt often checks this, as in
the case of onions, causing the vegeta
bles to retain the peculiar flavoring prin
ciples, besides such nutritious matter as
might be lost in soft water. For ex
tracting the juice of meat unsalted to make and u
broth or soup, soft water,
cold at first, is the best, for it much
more readily penetrates juices the tissue; should but be
for boiling where the salted
retained, hard water or soft water
is preferable, and the meat should bo
put in while the water is boiling, so as
to seal up tho pores at once .—Journal oj
Chemistry.
Household Hints.
It is good to be merry at meat.
Clean piano keys withasoftragdipped
in alcohol,
Egg stains ou silver can bo taken off
with table salt and a we* rag.
Cold sliced potatoes fry and taste bet
ter by sprinkling frying. a leaspoonful of flour
over them while
If you wish to retain (he color in
strawberries do not allow them to come
in contact with pewter or tin.
To polish nickel and plated goods after be
coming black not worn, use rouge or
whiting on a rag with a little oil.
It’s not a good plan to take off the*
cover of the stove to toast or boil any
thing when there is a dish in the oven.
.Mildew can be removed by soaking juice arid in
buttermilk, or putting lemon
salt upon it iiml exposing it to tho hot
sun.
To darken light mahogany and cherry,
bichromate of potash dissolved in water
is excellent, and gives it the appearance
of age.
To keep eggs cool is a them great help the in
making frosting. Set in re
frigerator after separating while and
yolks; they will beat up stiff in half the
lime they would without.
Before putting newly-made clothes into
tbe wash, look at the hems and tucks for
oil stains; rub all spots or dark stitching
with soap and cold water; it will all
"TV? ^SiltSt ■! pU ‘ V° Ptr ^ '
m nt y *>*“ inea ind -
To prevent irons from rusting, warm
your iron till you cannot bear your hand
o» it without burning yourself, i hen
rub it with new clean wax. 1 ut it again
to’he lire tid it has soaked in the wax.
^ " ;a d °?*:’ rub jt ov ’ , ’ r wlt l a l” ece of
? erge 1 j’rovents the iron from rust
mg afterward f ,
r ^ 10 ver V best nourishment for invalids
‘ pressed
ami childr en is the juice from a
steak or mutton chop thoroughly trim
med and boiled about live minutes. The
meat for this purpose should be cut at
' cust three-quarters of an inch thick,
Thu juice may he extracted from the
meat by a lemon squeezer ora meat press
which comes for this purpose,
To brush dusty plush use a soft bristle
brush, which may be obtained at any of
the large dry goods stores. To preserve it
plush during the summer, wrap up
with some small which pieces of camphor in
pieces of muslin, will prevent it
lrorn coming in contact with the plush
and thus staining it. There are also
preparations sold for use in packing away
furs and plush which have a very un
pleasant odor, but prevent the moth
from destroying the goods.
The following is a good paste to use in
hanging'wall paper: cold Four enough pounds of
gifted flour, arid water to
make a stiff batter free from hr l ...
T hin ft with cold water to the r msis
tenev of pancake finely powdered batter, and alum. add Pour two
ounces of gradually
boiling water constantly. When over tbe begins batter,
stirring it to
swell and lose the white color of the flour
Le,it
beforc usl,,f? ’
NO. 2!).
AN OPEN SECRET.
What is It that gives to the plainest face
The charm of the sweetest beauty? 'A
Not the thought of, the duty of happiness,
But the happiness of duty.
This is Life’s lesson, children dear,
They are blest who learn it early
For it brightens the darkest day with cheer,'
Though Fortune’s face be surly.
There’s a certain narrow, quiet path
Of daily thinking and living,
Of little deeds of sacrifice,
Of loving and forgiving.
Of patience and obedience,
Of gentle speech and action,
Of choosing the right and leaving the wrong
With a sunny satisfaction;
And if we never leave this path
For the thing the world calls pleasure,
There will come to meet us a heavenly joy
Beyond all power to measure.
For on this narrow, quiet way,
God’s angels move for over,
Waiting to crown with peace divine
Our every high endeavor.
Yes, this is what sheds on the lowliest life
The glow of the sweetest beauty,
Not the thought of the duty of happiness,
But the happiness of duty!
—Celia Thaxter, in Youth's Companion.
PITH AND POINT.
Spring novelties—Fine days.
A host in himself—The landlord.
Perspiration never rains—It simply
pores.
Much adieu about nothing—A woman’s
farewell.
There are no rounds of drinks in the
ladder of success.
A pen may be driven, but a pencil does
the best when it is lead.
Teacher—“What is lava?” Junior
Girl—“What men put on their faces
when shaving.”
Time flies and stays for no man. Tho
only fellow who can beat it is the musi
cian .—Merchant Traveler.
Agent (at the door)—“Is the lady of
the house in?” Gentleman (calling to his
wife): 1 ‘Ma-y, is the cook in?”
Mamma—“And who dwelt in the gar
den of Eden, Freddie?” Freddie—“Oh, I
know; the Adamses !”—Harvard Lam
poon. Judge—“Madame, what is ago?”
your
She—“Your Honor, I leave that to the
merry of the court ."—Buffalo Com
mercial.
Let a woman busy herself with hammer
and nails, and it is usually difficult to
determine what she is driving at.— De
troit Free Press.
“May I help you to alight?” said a
young man to a lady about to leave tho
railway car. “No, thanks,” said she,
“I don’t smoke."
And always bites her pretty lips
To show it.
— Mercury.
At the restaurant: Haughty Stranger
— “Your thumb is in my soup, waiter.”
Waiter—“Well, it don’t take up much
room, If you kick, though I’ll fill tho
bowl up.”
A spark arrester is a recent locomotive
device; but nothing seems to till the bill
of u spark arrester so well as a good,
healthy dog with a knack of holding on.
— BostonBudyet. .
Young Physician (pompously)—“Yes, three times
I’ve called at Mr. Brown’s a
day for a week. He is a very sick man,
Miss Smith.” Miss Smith—“Ho must
bo by this time.”— Epoch.
An old man who never did anything
worse in his youth will than tiirow himself a snow- by
ball at a dead cat, amuse
tho hour telling you what a bad boy
he was .—Philadelphia Call.
Bjones—“That fellow Gagley tried to
borrow $500 of hundred? me this morning.”
Smythe—“Five He nmst be
cracked 1” Bjones—“No; he’s not
cracked. He’s broke.”— Life.
Lieut. Boxer (showing his cousin
around the cantonment)—“Would you
like to look at the magazine?” “It’s just
over there.” -Miss Stuyvesant—“Thank them all.”
you, no. Papa subscribes for
The llev. E. I). Huntley, of Washing
ton, lias delivered a lecture on “The
Girl to Love and How to Treat Her.”
The how to treat her .—Richmond depends upon Dispatch. the
season of the year
It is all well enough to say that thir
teen is an unlucky number, but America
Btarted in business with thirteen States,
and seemed to be holding her own up to
the time of going to press.— London. Tid
Bits.
Husband—“What is that you are read
ing, ray dear?” Wife—“A letter from
mother.” Husband—“Anything im
portant?” Wife—“I don’t know, I
haven’t got to the postscript yet.”—
J/arper's Bazar.
Chauncey M. Depew the other morn
ing found his coachman’s children play
ing about, and he introduced himself.
“Well, my little man, and do you’re you know
who I am?" Boy “Yes; tho
man as rides in father’s carriage.”—
Mercury.
Sharp Husband—“Been say?" Sharper Wife—“river shopping all
day, you breakfast.” Husband—“Why, I
since
hadn’t but fifty cents to give you this
morning.” Wife—“That was plenty. I
never pay more than that for lunch.—
f tmaha World.
Tramp (to nything, partner)-“Did theoldmau
give up ; Bill?” Partner—
“Haw I" Tramp-“What did you say to
him?” Partner-*! asked himil ho
couldn’t help a poor d man who was out o’
work, and he sa he could give me
W y 7 P '