VOL. I.
'Tis Belter to Langh.
The (tinniest skies are the fairest,
The happiest hour* are the best,
Of all of life's blessings the rarest
Are pictures of pleasure and rest.
Though Fate is our wishes denying,
Let each bear his part like a man,
Nor darken the world with our sighing—
'Tis better to laugh when we can.
2ach heart has its burden of sorrow,
Each soul has Its shadows profound;
‘Tis sunshine we're yearning to borrow
From those who may gather around.
Then let us wear faces of pleasure
The world will be happy to scan,
A scowl is to no ono a treasure—
'Tis better to laugh when we can.
—Chicago Herald,
HIS NEIGHBOR'S BEES.
BY AM V nANDOLPn.
It was a still, frosty evening in Oclo-
■ ber, with the moon just eld (nough to
■cast a ruddy light on the leaf-carpeted
■path, and the ancient stone wall, all
■broidered over with iiehens and moss.
■ The air was instinct with sweet aro-
ibuatic scents, aud one red light burned
Spike jfpn a beacon star in the cottage window
tho hill.
“Lookl” said Fleda Fenwick.
“Mamma has lighted the lampl I-’s
high time we were home.”
“Aud you haven’t said yes I’’ mourn¬
fully uttered Jack Tievelyn.
“And I don’t mean to say ye-1”
Jack seated himself on the stone wall,
just where tho bars had been taken
dusvn. He was a han lsome, sunburned
fellow, with sparkling black eyes and
a rich, dark complexion, as if, in his
far back ancestry, there had been some
olive-browed Spaniard. Fleda leaned
against the bars, the moon turning her
fair hair to gold and lingering liko blue
sparks in the deeps of her laughing
eyes. If ever opposites existed in
nature, they existed there, and then.
* I've a great mind to go away to
sea,” said Jack, slowly and veugcfully.
“Do,” saucily retorlc.i F.eda.
“And never come back again!’’
‘ Oh, Jack!”
“The idea,” ho cried, raising both
hands as if to invoke tho fair moon her-
Bell by way of audience, “of a girl re¬
fusing to be married simply because she
hasn’t got some particular sort of a
wedding gown to stand up in.”
“If I can't be married like other
girls, I won't bo married at all,’’ de.
clarod Fled •, compressing bar rosy
lips.
“The idea of keeping a man waiting
for that 1 ’ groaned Jack.
‘ ‘It won’t be long,” coaxed Fleda.
“But, look here, Fleda, why can’t
we go quietly to church and be mar¬
ried, any day, and get the gown after¬
wards?” pleaded Jack.
“But, Jack, it wouldn’t be tho same
thing at all- A girl gets married but
once in her life, an 1 she wants to look
decent then.’’
“My own darling you would look an
angel ia anything! ’
“Now, qu t that, Jack I” laughed
Fleda. “it’s what my school children
call ‘taffy. J tt
“I hale your school children,” said
Jack, venomously, “I hate your
school. I despise the Irustoes, and I
should like to see the building burn
down. Then you would have to come
to me. ”
“No, I shouldn’t,” averred Fleda-
“I should take in millinery and dress¬
making until I ha l earned enough for
the white silk dress. I never would —
Oh, Jackl Who’s that?”
“A tramp? I’ll soon setth him with
my blackthorn! ' cried Trevelyn,spring¬
ing up.
“No, don’I,” whispered Fleda,
shrinking close to him; “it’s Mr.
Mingden. He’s on his own premises;
these woods belong to him. It's we
that are trespassers, Wait! Stand
still until ho has goao by. He’s very
nea* sighted, and he will never see
us.”
“And who,” breathed Jack, as a
stout, elderly person trotted slowly
across tho patch of moonlight, and-van¬
ished behind the stiff laurel hoJgo, “is
Mr. Mingden?”
‘ Don’t you kuow? Our noighbor.
The new gentleman who has bought
Smoke H ill.”
“Tjie old c>vo who is always quar¬
reling with you?”
“Yes—the very man who hates beas
so intolerably, and wants mamma to
take away all those lovely hives, down
by the south fence. He says ho can’t
tako his constitution in p ace, because
j he’* always afraid of being stung. ” where
“Why don't he take it seme
else, then?’’
“Teat's the very question,” said
F.ed a,
“Mingdea, eh? I believe hn must be
Harry Mingden’s uncle—it’s not such a
[very common name,’ said Jack, reflic-
[lively. I—and “And Harry's my college chum
1' ru going to ark him to bu ray
Ibest <g,*n at the wedding.”
“O i, Jack! I hops he isn’t as disa-
fcreeable as his uncle!” crio 1 E ftida.
I “He’s n trump!”
THE ENTERPRISE.
“Betides, I don’t believe his uncle
will let him cornel” addod tho girL
“Not let him come? Why shouldn’t
he?”
“Because he hates us so on account
of tho bees.”
“But, I say, Fleda!” cried tho young
man, “this complicates matters! 1
promisod to go and ses Harry Mingden
when I wns down here.”
‘Grand see him, then; but don’t
mention the namo of Fenwick, for your
life.”
“Indeed I shall. Isn’t it tho name
of all others in which I take tho most
pride ?’’
“Oh, Jack, you will only make more
trouble! It’ll be worso than the bees.
Promise mo, Jack, or I’ll never, never
speak to you again.”
And Jack had to promise, after some
unwilling fashion.
Mrs. Fenwick, a pretty, fadol little
widow was full charged with indigna¬
tion when FUda returned from her
stroll in tho woods.
‘•Mamma, what is tho matter?” said
Fleda.
“One of the hives was t-tipped over
tonight,” sobbed Mrs. Fenwick; “aud
I’m sure he did it.”
“It was the wind, mamma.”
“No wind ever did that, Fleda.
But I set it up again. I will never,
never sacrifige my apiary to his absurd
prejudices.”
‘ Dear mamma, if you would only
have the hives moved to the other side
of the garden! ’ pleaded F.eda, carcss-
ingy.
“And sacrifice a question of princi¬
ple! Never!’ replied the widow.
Mrs. Fenwick, ordinarily the most
amiable of women, was roused on this
subject to an obstinacy which could
only be characterized as vindictive.
And Mr. Ezra Mingden was ten times
as bad as his neighbor.
“That woman is a dragoness, Hal’»
he said to his nephew, “She keep3
those bees simply to annoy me. I hate
bees. Bees hate me. Every time 1
walk there I get stung.”
“But, uncle, you shouldn’t brandish
your cane about so,” reasoned Harry.
“It’s sure to enrage ’em.”
“I don't brandish it on the woman’s
side of the fence, If her abominable
buzzing insects persist in trespassing in
my garden, am I not bound to protect
myself?'’ sputtere 1 Mr. Mingden.
“Cau't you walk somewhe e else?”
“Can’t she put her bees soma where
else?”
“But, uuc'.c, all this seems such a
trivial affair.”
‘ 'Trivial, indeed 1 If you d been
stung on your nose nnd your ear and
your eyelids aud everywhere else, would
you call it trivial? I never eat honey,
and I’ve always considered bees to be
an absurdly overrate! sec'ion of ento-
mology. What business have her bees
to be devouring all my flowers? How
would she like it herself?”
Harry Mingden smiled to see the de¬
gree of fury to which the old gentleman
was gradually xvorking himself up. He
was already in Jack Trcvelyn’s confi¬
dence, and thus, to a certain extent,
enjoyed the unusual opportunity of see¬
ing both sides of the question.
“Look here, sir,” said he, “why
don’t you set up a colony of bee-hives,
yourself? If her bees rifle your flow¬
ers, let yours go foraging into her gar¬
den. Let her see, as you suggest, how
she would liko it herself. Put a row
of hives as close to your side of the
fence, as you can get it. If they fight,
let’em fight. Bees are an uncommon'
iy war-like race, I’m told; if they agree
what is to prevent ’em bringing half
the honey into your hives?”
“By Jove,” said Mr. Mingden, start¬
ing to his feet, “I never thought of
that. I’ll do it! I wonder xvhere tho
deuce they sell bees! There isn’t a
moment to be lost.”
“I think I know of a placr where I
could buy half a dozen hive3,” said
Harry. *
■
“The gentleman wants to buy some
bees,” said Fleda. “D„-ar mamma, do
sell yours; we cau easily get all the
honey we want—”
“But I’ve kept bees all iny life,”
said Mrs. Feuwick, piteously.
“Yes, but ihoy’ro such a care,
mamma, now that you are no longer
young, and you are hardly able to look
after them in swarming time, and—”
(she dared not allude to the trouble
they were making in neighborly rela¬
tions, but glided swiftly on to the next
vantage point)—“it wi lbs just exactly
the money I want to finish the sum for
my wedding dress.”
Mrs. Fenwick’s face softened; she
kissed Fled a’s carmine cheek, with a
deep sigh. then, darling, „ said
‘ For your sake,
she. “But I wouldn’t for tho world
have Mr. Mingden think that I would
concede a single inch to—
“I don’t know that it is any of Mr.
Mingden’s business,” said Fleda,
qU Mr. Mmgden Rotted
Thcncxt day
to look at his now possessions,
CARNESVILLE, GA„ FRIDAY, MAY 30,1890.
“Too bad that Harry had to go back
to town before he had a chance to soo
how the beo-hives looked in thoir
place,” soliloquized he. “A capital
idea, that of his. I wonder what tho
old lady will say whoa she sees the op¬
position apiary! Won’t she be furious 1
Ha, ha, ha! 1
Ho adjusted his spectacles ns ha
hastened down towards tho sunny south
walk which had heretofore beou the
battle-ground. There was tho row of
square, white hives on his side of tho
fence—but lo land behold! tho bench
that ha l extended on tho other sido
was vacant and deserted 1
“Why!'' ho exclaimed, coming to an
abrupt standstill. “What has she dono
with her bees?”
“Sold 'em all to you, sir,” said
Jacob, tho gardenor. “Aud a fine lot
they be! And not an unreasonable
price neither! Mr. Harry looked artcr
that hisself.”
“I hope you’ll bo very kind to them,
sir!” uttered a soft, pleading little
voice, and Elflcda Fenwick’s golden
head appeared just above the pickets of
the fence, “And I never knew until
just now that it was you who bought
them.”
“Humph!’’ said Mr. Mingdcn.
“But, I hope, after this,” kindly
added Fleda, “that we shall never have
any more trouble—as neighbors, I
mean. It has made me very unhappy,
and —”
The blue eyei, the faltering voice,
melted the old gentleman at last.
“Then don't let it make you unhappy
any longer, my dear!” said he, reaching
over the pickets to shako hands with
the pretty special pleader. “Hang the
bees! After all, what difference does
it mako which side of the fence they’re
on? So you're the little school toacher,
are you? 1' m blessed if I don’t wish I
was young enough to go to school to
you myself!”
Fleda ran back to tho ho J3C in secret
glee.
“I do believe,” she thoujht, “tho
Montague and C ipulet feul is healed
at last! And Ido believe' 1 (knitting
her blond brows), “that Jack told
young Mingden all about the bees, and
that that i3 the solution of this mys¬
tery !’’
But that eveuing there came a pres¬
ent of white grapes from the Mingden
greenhouses to Mrs. Fenwick, with the
old gentleman’s card.
“lie must have been very much
pleased to get tho bees,” thought the
old lady. “If I had only known he
liked bee3, I should have thought very
differently of him. All this shows how
slow we should be to believe sorvauts’
gossip aud neighborhood tattle! If 1
had known he was the pure' aser, I
should have decline! to negotiate; but
perhaps everything has happened for
the best!”
Jack Trevelyn thought so, when he
stood up in the village church, a fort¬
night from that time leside a fair vision
in glittering white silk, and a vail that
was like crystalizcd frost-work. And
the strangest part of all was that old
Mr. Mingden was there to give the
bride away 1
“I take all the credit to myself,”
mischievously whispered Harry M ag-
den, the “be3tman.” “But I’m afraid
it is easier to set machinery in motion
than to stop it afterwards! And it’s
just possible that I may have au aunt-
in-law yet.”
“8.ranger things have happened,”
said the bridegroom.— T.ie Ledger,
Fight Between Whales.
The canal schooner II. G Ely of
Philadelphia George Moore of Delaware
master, arrived recently with a cargo
of lumber from North Carolina. Mate
John Bcnnet reported that when in
Chesapeake Bay, two whales wore stea
first on tho port bow, distant about a
quarter of a mile, lashing the water
into foam. As the vessel drew nearer
it was seen that one was about thirty
feet in length, the other a little larger,
and that thoy were engaged in deadly
combat. The whales would rush at
each other, sometimes striking with
their huge, square heads, but oftener
dodging the blows, and the smaller
seemed to have tho best of it. They
sounded often and as often as they
came to the surface they threw the
water fifteen or twenty feet into the air
from their blow-holes. When they
came together the blows sounded liko
the fall of a pile driver, only not so
clear, and the thrashing of their tails
threw the water half masthead high.
The crew of the Ely watched the com¬
bat for nearly ha f an hour, during
which the larger whale was steadily
driven toward the shore.
Comparative Ethnology.
He—Wuen an Indian gives a present,
it is always with the expectation of get¬
ting something in return of equal or
greater value.
She—Why, how funny. That’s just
i exactly like our wod ting present sy»,
tom, isn't it?
WATERY VILLAGES.
The Strange Homes of the
Bololo Tribes in Africa.
Building Houses on Piles in
Swamps to Avoid Enemies.
From a commercial point of view,the
richest affluent of the Congo, tho great
East African river, is tho Lulungu,
whose mouth is situated a few miles
above the Ru'd, The Ludmgu is
formed by tho confluence of two rivers,
tho Malinga and Lopori, which, uniting
at the populous village of Mussaukuso,
henceforth form a stroam a mile in
width, nnd probably ono hundred and
fifty miles in length, until its waters
are swallowed up in those of the
mighty Congo. This lower stretch of
river is inhabited by RiuUEuadu ivory
and slave traders; the upper roaches, as
far as the swamps around the head¬
waters of tho Malinga and Lopori, by
the Balolo proper, and rude tribes of
elephant hunters, who store their ivory
until the perio l ical visits of the down¬
river traders, when they exchange it
for beads, cowries and brass ornaments.
Those Bololo tribes are an oppressed
and persecuted people.
Timid au inoffensive, they fa'l an
easy prey to tho overwhelming numbers
of tho powerful inland tribes of the
Lufembe and Ngomba, who are contin¬
ually making raids upon them, captur¬
ing them and selling them into slavery,
and eating those who are less suitable
for the slave market.
The Lulungu aud its two groat feed¬
ers, particularly tho Malinga, flow
through a swampy country, tho greater
part of tho land during the rainy season
being under water.
8o swampy is it, that all the native
villages on the upper reaches of that
river arc built on piles standing in
water from two to four feet in depth.
It is a strange sight, when tho water is
high, to see all thoso houses, dotted
about on the river, looking like float¬
ing boxes, and comical to observe a
native fishing from his tiny verauda or
when ho wishes to pay a visit to a
friend across tho way, or journey to
another part of the village to soo him
step into his canoe from off his door¬
step, and paddle about the streets of
swiftly running water.
Ivory is hidden for safety in the
water under thoir houses, or at some
point of the forest known only to the
owner, where the long troe- trunks
stand up out of the brown, dark-shad-
owed flood of the swollen river, and,
should ho wish to sell it, he must dive
down and fe'ch it up.
The effect seen from the river of one
of these villages is very striking. Large
trees are felled all about, so as to ren¬
der tho progress of an approaching
canoe difficult. Thaso wretohei houses,
without walls, and with a Are mado on
a fiat lump of clay, or a platform formed
by eross-sticks, form indeed wretched
habitations for human beings. You
will see on some prominent position a
large war-drum, so that in case of an
attack, or any danger arising, tho sur¬
rounding villages may be signalol, and
timely warning given.
The natives living in these watery
settlements say that inland they can
find strips and patches of dry land, but
that if they live there the slave-raiders
fiud out their whereabouts, and arc con¬
tinually persecuting them, so that,
though it is inconvenient an 1 svrotchcd
living iu houses on piles, they naturally
prefer it to the danger of slavery and
death. However, they are not free
irom molestation oven unler these cir¬
cumstances, as the slavc-rai lers from
the lower reaches of the river form
large expeditions, sometimes of 200
and 300 canoe", well-armed, aud go up
and kill, calch and take them into
slavery. — The Lodger,
Flowers and the Children.
There are but few children who are
not attracted by tho beauty and sweet¬
ness of flowers. Wo hava often watch¬
ed with great inlerest the seemingly
natural tendency of young children to
admire flowers. Frequently we have
seen them gazing with rapture upon the
picture of a flower, and smelling it
with apparent disappointment that it
yielded no perfume. The child appears
to instinctively know that a flower is
delicate, innocent and pretty; and it
may be laid down as a general rule that
a boy that is brought up among fl >wcrs
will develop into a better man than one
who is a stranger to flo’wprs.
If we could have our way, we would
adorn with flowers the homes from
wr.ich come our criminal classes. They
would not banish crime from the com¬
munity, but they would greatly lessen
it. Flowers make people gentler, softer
and better, and the father and mother
who do not neglect to provide this holy
influence for their children are doing
them a service that peyhflp. the etorni-
ties fllopq will tell (ho vqluo of. —,
Novelties in Paper.
lliilroad car wheels made of pap*
nre more durable than iron.
When strong fibre is used papor can
bo made into asubstnneo so bard that it
can scarcely be scratched.
Black walnut picture frames arc ntado
of papor and so colored that no ono can
tell them from the original wood.
An Italian monk has succocdcl in
constructing an organ whore tho pipes
arc made of papor pulp. It has 1400
pipes of various sizes.
The latest idea is to uso paper instead
of wood for lead pencils, by using a
patent preparation by which it cau bo
cut as easily as the softest wood.
Tho coiling of tho assembly chamber
at Albany, N. Y., is made of papier
macho. It is a model of its kind and
appears so like marble at to docoivo the
most export cyo.
Cracks in floors nroitud tho skirting
board or othor parts of a room may bo
neatly filled by thoroughly soaking
newspaper Jn pasto mado ns thick as
putty and forced into tho cracks with a
pasto knifo. It will soon harden and
can bo painted.
A store in Atlanta, Gi., liss been
built entirely of paper. Tho rafters,
weather boarJs, roof and flooring are
all mado of thick compressed paper
boards, impervious to water. On ac¬
count of tho surface of the papor being
smooth and hard it cannot catch on fire
as easily as a wooden building. It is
found warm in cold and cool in hot
weather.
A paper piano has lately been ex¬
hibited iu Paris. The entire case is
made of compressed papor, to which is
given a bard surface, a cream white
brilliant polish. Tho legs aud sides
are ornamented with arabesques and
floral designs. The cxlcrior and as
much of tho interior as can he seen
when the instrument is open nre cov¬
ered with wreaths and melaliionspaiut-
cd in miniature.
A new mill for the manufacture of
paper from moss has been recently
established in Swoden. Papor of dif¬
ferent thickness and pasteboard made
of it have already been shown, tho
latter even in sheets three-quarters of
an inch thick. It is as hard as wood
and can bo easily painted and polishod.
It has all tho good qualities but none
of the defects of wood. The paste¬
board can bo used for door and window
frames, architectural ornaments aud all
kinds of furniture.— St. Louis Stationer.
Store Names In Mexico.
One of the oldest things here, says a
City of Mexico letter, is tho naming of
the stores and shop', whore upon the
signs, instead of the name of the pro¬
prietor, appears some elaborate appella¬
tion that often causes one a smile from
its incongruity with the goods on sale.
For instance, “The Electric Light” is a
pulque shop, the “Queen of the
World” is a bread shop, tho “Palace of
(he World” is a boot store, tho “White
Venus” is a butcher’s shop, and so they
go- Several of tho grocery stores are
called by tho names of the great cities
of the world, which is very appropriate,
for it is from them we obtain all lux¬
uries for tho table. Iustcad of being
directed to the firm of 8o-a»d-8o, one
is told that certain goods can Iso had at
the ‘ City of Now-York,” the “City of
Hamburg,” etc. The shadow of the
E ffel Tower has reached and fallen
upon the city of Mexico. A gorgeous
new sign, all white, blue, and gold,
bears the tall name and a flig-decorated
representation of tho same, “The Eiffel
Tower,” and within the store one finds
most delicious French confectionery.
A Point AbJUt Brooms.
Says a broom earn dealer: * ‘A few
years ago, all broom corn was so
bleached with sulphur fumes as to make
it so white that it nearly destroyed its
pliability, and it sometimes broke to
pieces much more rapidly than it should
havo done. Now tho broommakors
have gono to tho other extreme. They
dye their broom corn so green that
housekeepers are afraid to break off one
of tho splints to test a cake with, for
fear they may be poisonod with Paris
green. 11
“Why do they do so?” he was asked.
“Well,” said he, “I don’t know ex¬
actly, but I suppose styles must change.
Then, agaiu, the housekeepers may
have f urnd out that the white brooms
didn’t wear so well, and caused a de¬
mand for green ones. ”
“But are they really dyed with Paris
green?”
“I can’t sa 7 as to that. It doesn’t
look like it to me, but I d rather be on
the s- fr side and not eat any of it.”
Taking a Deep Interest in Him.
Dr. P,lie—You've been working like
a hero, dcctor, to save young Starvely’s
life. And he as poor as Job’s turkey,
too!
Dr. Hackern-—:That’g just it. He
owes me t?5 already on my bill, sod if
he diet J wots’t got a cent, — Uarpwi
JJaear,
CHILDREN'S COLUMN.
TWO I.1TTI.K KITTIKS.
There was once a little kitten,
Whose fur was brown and gray;
Bite would drive the other kitties
From the bread and milk away.
There was plenty in the saucer,
There wus more upon the shelf;
But this naughty, greedy kitten
Wanted nil of it herself.
She. had been coaxed and petted,
She had been punished, too,
But Kittie still would snarl and bite
Whatever we would do,
And when the meal was over,
If there remained a hit,
She did not want the others
To have a taste of it.
There was another kitten,
A little downj- ball,
Who would sit nnd wait for break fas’
Till Miss Greedy ate it ail.
She would wipe her dainty whisker?
With her pretty velvet foot,
And wait in meek submission
For something she could eat.
She would not drive the kittens
From the bread and milk away.
Now, like which of these two kitties
Will our darling be today?
—Tansy.
DIFFERENT lllllDS.
Besides earth burrowers there nro
wood burrowers nmoug tho birds. You
si! know the habit of our woodpecker,
of boring into a treo and building
within tho opening made. Tho nut¬
hatch makes a similar nest, as does tho
South American toucan—a bird with an
enormous bill, which it thrusts, as a
defensive weapon, out of the door of
its domicile, to warn off aggressivo
monkeys, snakes or other enemies.
Then there are swinging nests, which
dangle from tho end of a bough and
rock the infaut birdies on the troe tops
until they are old enough to fly away.
Perhaps you have seen the nest of the
Baltimore oriole, which is constructed
after Urn fashion, though some African
birds build very beautiful and wonder¬
ful bunging nests. Among thoso are
the weaver birds, whoso nests are flask¬
shaped and woven in and out as uoatly
as a baskot-makor’s work; aud the
tailor-bird, which sows her nest up in
leaves, uiing a fibre or small root for
thread and her bill for needle. The
Australian honey-enter makes a ham¬
mock of fine grass, which sho swings
from two small tough twigs, and all
the humming-birds, I believe, mako
hanging nests.
Another class of birds make nests
daubed with mud; you know tho black¬
bird aud swallow do; so does the house
martin, and there may bo others I can¬
not remember just now. There is on
African bird—the oven bird—that
makes a round, hollow ball of mul, at
the side of which she opens a door and
lines insido with softest moss nnd
feathers. Tho nest bakes as hard as a
brick, and furnishes a very substantial
home for the little brood which is
reared within. 1 could toll you cl
many other curious nests if I had time.
— Picayune.
THE YOUNG AND THE OLD.
It is sometimes said that Western
nations havo some things to learn from
the dignified anti urbnno Orientalists,
and assuredly Young America might sit
at the feet of Oriental youths to fiud
tba’ they possess virtues worth emulat¬
ing. Cpurtesy and reverence arc two
virtvos strenuously inculcated by tho
Orientalists, and conspicuously lucking
in typical Young America. Soma
American lads in their teem talk flip¬
pantly about tho “guv’nor” and the
“old min,” by way of designating the
father whom they are commanded to
honor, thus recklessly trampling under
foot all filial reverence.
Ia the heathen nation of China tho
government lays great stress upon the
family relation, and clai d ou are reared,
not only in the most dutiful regard for
thoir parents, but in a most profound
respect fur elderly people. Age alone
entitles a man to respectful treatment
in China. When a poor oi l man, a
stranger, enters a small Chinese village,
the people leavo their various occupa¬
tions and stand in respectful quiet until
he has passed out of sight. If this
s«ma old man had appeared in some
American villages, he would perhaps
have been called a “tramp” and “an
old codger,” with possibly a volley of
stones to add zest to the greeting. In
China, if a person lives to bo a century
old, he has the privilege of petitioning
government to bud! an elegant marble
monument commemorative of the fact.
There are many such memorials in
China.
Does age win tho respect which is its
due from Young America? There is a
great charm in the fresh enthusiasm of
youth, but mature age an! old age have
their immeasurable advantages. Honor
the veteran who has fought long on the
battletiell of life, and now flags a little
in the conflict. What can reflect a
sweeter charm upon youth than tender,
gentle courtesy to the aged pilgrim?
Let q'l the gracious virtu e bq group*}
tqdpi (ho gospel banner.
NO, 21:
Hoeing and Praying.
Said Farmer Jones, in a whining tone,
To his good old neighbor Gray,
“I've worn my knees through to the bona,
But it ain't no use to pray.
“Your corn looks just twice as good as mine
Though you don’t pretend to be
A shinin’ light in the church to shine.
An’ tell salvation’s free.
“I’ve prayed to the Lord a thousand times
For to make that 'ere corn grow;
An’ why yourn heats it so an' climbs
I'd gin a deal to know.”
Raid Farmer Gray to his neighbor Jones,
In his easy, quiet way,
“When prayers get mixed with lazy bones
They don't make farmin' pay.
“Your weeds, l notice, arc good an’ tall,
In spite of all your prayers;
You may pray for corn till tho heavens fall,
If you don’t dig up the tares.
“I mix my prayers with a little toil,
Along in every row;
An’ I work this mixture into the soil,
Quito vig'rous with a hoc.
“An’ I’ve discovered, though still in sin,
As sure as you are born,
This kind of compost well worked in,
Makes pretty decent com.
“So while I’m praying I use my hoe,
An’ do tuy level best,
l’o keep down the weeds along each row,
An' the I.ord, he does the rest.
“It’s well for to pray, both night an' morn,
As every farmer knows;
But the place to pruy for thrifty corn
Is right between the rows.
“Yon must use yottr hands while praying,
though,
If an answer you would get,
For pray-er worn knees an’ a rusty hoe
Never raised a big crop yet.
“An' so I believe, my good old friend.
If you mean to win the day,
From ploughing, clean to the harvest's end,
You must hoc as well ns pray.”
HUMOROUS.
“Miuo is a pano-ful occupation,”
said tho glazier.
Talking of getting on in lifo, tho
man who slips in tho mud is almost
bound to rise.
Life is too short to spend precious
moments raising up people who would
sooner walk on all fours.
All things come to him who will but
wait, but in somo restaurants tho things
nro cold when thoy arrive.
“You can’t oat your dinner and
have it, too,” said tho sympathetic
steward to tho seasick passenger.
lie—There's nothing witty in tho
wag of a dog’s tale. She—But it’s the
animals way of expressing a smile.
It is unkind to make a jest of aerial
navigation beforo inventors of air¬
ships. It is a soar point with them.
“It is no uso tolling you to look
pleasant,” said the photographer to the
pretty young lady, “for you cannot
look anything olsc.” And his scheme
workod beautifully.
A tcacbor in ono of the public schools
was examining a class in physiology
and asked: “What tra tho last MSlh
to come?” ‘'False teeth,” shouted the
small boy to whom the question was
addressed.
The Mikado of Japan has issued an
edict against duelling. If the Mikado
will not tolerate such aharmless pastime
as duelling it is not likely that ho wil
ever permit tho introduction of base
hall into his empire.
A Wonderful Pneumatic Rifle.
Paul Gifford, the original inventor
of the Paris pneumatic post system, has
made a pneumatic rifle, which is said
to bo a wonder. It is described this
way: Tho weapon is much lighter than
any of tho army riflos now in use. It
resembles tho magazine gun in that a
steel cartridge about a span aud a half
long and as thick H3 a man's thumb is
attached to tho barrel by means of a
screw. This cartridge contains 300
rliots, which can be discharged as rap¬
idly or slowly as a man desires. At a
recent trial tho ball travelled with won¬
derful accuracy, and ponotrated deep
into tho wall of tho shooting room. As
soon as one cartridge is emptied of its
300 shots another can .be screwed on
iho gun in tbo twinkling of an oye.
Mr. Gifford says that the 300 shots in a
cartridge can bo producol at a cost of
shout throe pence. The gun itself can
be manufactured for about $5.
No Place for Tunnels.
A Scotchman, who had been em
ployod nearly all his life in tho build-
ing of railways in the Highlands of
Scotland, came to the United States in
his later years nnd settled in a new sec¬
tion on the plains in the far West. Soon
after his arrival, a project came up in
his new home for the construction of a
railroad through the district and the
Scotchman was applied to, as a man of
experience in such matters, ‘ ‘Hoot,
mon!” said he, to the spokesman oi
the scheme, “ye canna build a r'alway
across this kentry 1” “Why not, Mr.
F-rguson?” “Why not? ’ he repeated,
with an air of settling the whole mat-
tpr, “why not? And dinna ye see tho
kentry’s as flat as a flure, and ye have
u»w place whatoever to run your toon*
hels through?” **» A wnaut
