Newspaper Page Text
VOL. I.
My Losson.
"Yon have only two?" the lady said,
As she glanced at my babes at play,
And I answered her, "Only two on earth."
And then I wept to say,
As my grief came surging back agaiu, \
My grief so deep, so wild,
"Alas it was only a month ago,
I lost a little child.”
A dear little girl with bright, black eyes,
Unlike the other two,
The one with eyes of hazel brown,
The other with heaven's blue;
A dear little girl with a laughing face,
And sunshine iu her hair,
Whose lisping voice and pattering fee
Made music everywhere.
Atld 1 grieve when I mis* a single note
From the music of baby feet.
And I weep for the tangle of sunny hair
That is lost from my cluster sweet;
For the prattling lips, the clinging touch,
The hand upon my knee,
When the chord was full, and the group
complete,
And my children numbered three.
And then I noticed the room was still,
That the children stopped their play,
That they looked at each other, and then
at me,
In a wondering, sorrowful way.
Then the oldest one, with the hazel eyes
Came to my side in tears,
■She was only five, with a tender heart,
And thoughtful beyond her years.
“What is the matter with mama’s child?"
This was the answer given:
“You said that you lesed a little child,
I fought she was gene to heaven?
And why don't you look for her every day,
Until you find her again?
And not sleep a wink’till you bring her
home
Out of the cold and rain?”
Then I hushed my grief for the little child,
Lying under the sod;
I had learned a lesson from baby lips:
“Not lost, but gone to God.”
—Ida J. Hail, in Atlanta Constitution.
The Mother of Marius
“And there’s an end of itl ’ said
Marius Gray, letting his haud full de¬
spairing y on the table.
He had just returned from his weary
day’s work, which had stretched itself
far into the night—he wa3 engaged on
a newspaper, aud was beginning to earn
good wages as assistant foremiu in one
of the department*—and had permed a
letter which had laid on the table at
his lodgings.
“An end of what?” asked Harold
Morse, his room-mate aud companion.
“Of my three years’ work,” Gray
answered—“of all that Iv'e been toiling
and striving for so long. ”
“You don't mean,” sail Morse,
that you would let this make any differ¬
ence with your plant?”
“It must make a difference, H ill.
“In the name of common sense, what
difference? ’
“Don’t you see? Now that my good
old grandfather is deid, I've got to
make a homo for my mother. I've got
to support her and see that life is rnado
easy for her in her old age.”
“Oh, I seel’said Morse, shrugging
his shoulders. “Alice won’t relish the
idea of a mother-in-law—is that it? ’
“1 shall not ask her, Ilal. M/ first
duty is to my mother."
■“But the little house you've bought,
aud the furniture you've been selecting
piece by piece, and the carpet that
you've laid up for yard by yard, aud
tho very mossrose-bush by the door-
stone—”
“I hope my mother will enjoy thorn,
Hil," said Gray, with something like a
quiver ou his lip. ‘‘But I once heard
Alice make some laughing jest about
tho terrors of a mother-in-law. It
wasn’t much. I don’t think she at¬
tached any particular importance to it,
but stiil it lia* stuck to my memory.
In the recollection of that, I can’t nsk
her to share any divided empire in niy
home.”
“Oh, hang it!” cried Morse, flinging
his paper on tho table. “What do
women want to be so cranky foi? Why
cau’t they bunk in together as com¬
fortably a* men do? I 11 go bail A*cc
Ardley would go through fire and
water for her own mother. Why should
• e feel differently toward tho mother
of the man she loves!”
“There’s all the difference in the
world,” said Gray, sally.
And so ho svent to bed to ponder over
this new complication of events; and
when ho foil a-loop he droainod that he
bad just brought a bride homo to the
little cottage whore the white muslin
curtains rustled in tho wind, and the
mossrose-bush was in fu 1 blossom, and
somehow Alice Ardley’s blooming face
was frilled arouud with cap borders and
decorated with an immense pair of *1-
ver spectacles. he
“Of course, Gray will do as
pleases," said Morse; but if I were he
I’d see this old lady further before I
allowed her to upset all my life-calcula¬
tions in this sort of way. IV by can t
he get her boarded out soiniwliere? or
admitted into a respectable ‘Horn; or
‘Refuge,’ something of the sort? ’
or
“I suppose,” said the man who
worked next him in the sviill-paper dc-
signing factory “Iccause she is his
mother I ’
“Hang sentiment”' was Msrse’s re-
ply-
THE ENTERPRISE.
To Marius Gray's credit bo it spokon
that he never for an inotant hesitated as
to what decision to muke.
He wrote an affectionate letter to his
mother, telling her of tho little homo
which was now at her disposal, and
offering to como to Montreal and bring
her thither at any time which shcshould
fix.
And this loti or safely dropped into
the nearest mail box, he next bogan to
consider tho forthcoming explanation
with Alice Ardlcy.
Ho went to see her that very evening.
Sho was a music teacher, aul lived iu
one of those genteel, comfortless board¬
ing-houses which afford so poor a sub¬
stitute for real home*, and she came
down into the parlor, where tho gas was
economically lowered, and tho scent of
the vcgetab'.o soup that had boon s. ed
for dinner still lingered.
(1 Oh, Marius I” she said, with a littlo
gurgle in her voice, “I've been wanting
to see you so much."
“Havo you, Alice?”
He stood holding both her hands in
his own.
“I’ve got such a favbr to ask of you,
Marius—and oh, I don’t know how to
do it, after ail the hateful things I've
said about mother-in-laws, and that
sort of thing!” faltered she.
Ho stood still listening, and after a
short pause, Alice went hurriedly on:
“It’s my Aunt Alethea. I’ve got to
take her home aud take care of her, for
tho cousin who has supported her all
these years can’t do it any more; and
oh, Marius, w-e can’t be married unless
—unless you will bo very good
and kiud and let old Aunt
Alethea como and live with
u*. I’m sure sho can’t be a great deal
of trouble and I’ll keep on with my
music lessons to furnish her with
clothes. She’s a very nice, quiet old
lady, and—but if you’i rather not,
Marius, say so at once, an l of course
the engagement will be at an end. t /
Marius Gray's face lighted up.
“Alice, forgive me I” he said. “You
have shown g eater confidence in me
than I have done in you. As far as I
am concerned your aunt will be most
welcome in any home that you and 1
are to share together, But, Alice, I
had come here to ask you to release me
from our eng igcment.”
Alice gave a little start.
“Marius!’’ she cried. “Oh, Marius,
you don’t menu it? ’
“For tho reason,” he weut on, “that
it is now incumbent on me to support
my mother, who has heretofore Lved
with her father. I didn’t liko to ask
you, dear, knowing your opinion on
tho subject of—well, of mothers-iu-
law, to share your home kingdom with
any one else; and there was no other
home to bring my mother to. But
now—”
“Marius,” cried A'ico, “it’s quite
true what you say. You have put no
confience in me. If I could trust you
to be good to my poor old aunt, could
you not have been sure that I would
love your mother?”
“I am sure of it uow, Alcic,” said
the young man, still holding her hand
tenderly iu his.
“And I svon’t release you from your
engagement,” declared Alice, disguis¬
ing her emotion under a very effective
pretence of gay badinage, “I’ve been
taking lessons at a cooking school anl
making up household linen, aud I mean
to show your mother and my Aunt
Alethea what a capital housekeeper I
can be. And oh, how proud I shall be
when they eat the first dinner I cook in
my own house! ’
“Alice, you are an angel!” asserted
Gray.
“No, lam not,” said Alice. “I’m
only a silly, chattering girl, avho says
lots of things that she is sorry for
afterwards. Bet I know how gool
and forgiving you are, and you shall
seo how dearly I svill love your
mother for your sake until I have
learned to appreciate her for her
osvn.”
S) Alice Ardley and Marius Gray
were quietly marriod, and on their wed-
ding trip thoy went to Montreal to
bring the old mother home.
Mrs. Gray, Senior, was a trim, erect
littlo woman, dressed in black serge,
svith her rosy old face surrounded by
tho neatest of caps.
She came back to the cottage with
them. how chil-
“I shall be glad to see my
dren live,” said she.
And she took a great fancy to Aunt
Alethea, who was waiting on tho door¬
step to receive them—a meek, soft-
voiced old Q lakeress, who moved
noiselessly about and looked liito a
human dove in gray plumage.
“I wonder,” she sa:d, “how Friend
Alethea—for she won t let one call her
■M ss Ardley'—would like a situation
as companion and reader? She reads
aloud charmingly, That bit of the
daily piper she read us yesterday, A ice,
1 declare 1 thought I could sec with my
cvervlking that happened! '
own eyes be delighted,
• I think she wou’d
CARNESVILLE, GA„ FRIDAY, JUNE 6.1890.
mother," said Alice. “Ii’s a dreadful
trial for her to be dependent on any one
for a living; but there are no such nice
places to be found.
“I know of one, ” said Mrs. Ar.llcy.
“Where?” asked Alice.
‘‘In Montreal.”
‘ But I couldn’t trust Aunt Alethea
with any one but a very kiud lady.”
“Well, this lady is kind. At least
she'll try to be. For she is myself,
daughter Alice.
“You, mother? But I thought you
were going to live with us!’’ exclaimed
Alice.
“My son Marius aud you sce:n to
tako that for granted,” said the old
lady, with a twiuklo of her bright,
bli ck eyes. “But you ate wrong,
nevertheless. No, I am not going to
live with you, I’m very glad to have
caught a glimgse of you iu your happy
little home, my dear; but I've an idea
that young marriod people are better by
themselves—for a year or two at least.
And my father left me some real estate
in Moiitreal which has increased very
much in value, and I can live as I
pleaso now. Some day it will all bo
yours; but in the meantime I shall take
Friend Alethea back with me, and
we’il be company for oach other.
Once in awhile we’ll come anl visit
you, and mind you both take excellent
care of each other.”
So vanished Mrs. Gray aud quiet lit¬
tlo Aunt Alethea from the scene.
“And here we are, just where wo
originally planned to be,” said Mirim,
as he and Alice stood at the door, where
the mossrose was in bloom, watching
the wheels of the hack that bore the
two old ladies away.
' Y-es! ’ faltered Alice with a tear in
her eye; but I never thought I could bo
so sorry to see a mother-in-law go out
of the house.”
Superstitions of the Chinese.
It has often been a matter of conjec¬
ture why a Chinaman should be so par¬
ticular in sleeping with his head toward
the east. When at home, or traveling,
or visiting, the Celestial, if among
strangers, exeicises no little care to
avoid sleeping in any other position
than the one which he has been brought
up to look upon as the most correct and
healthful to his mind.
According to the Chinese superstition
it is exceedingly dangerous to sleep
with the head toward tho setting sun.
The sleeper might justly fear darknes3,
unhappiness and death; that is, of
course, if he is believer. From the
north comes coldness, loneliness and
barrencss, and to sleep with his head in
that direction wou'd be to bring down
upon himself and family these products
of the pole.
The south siguifies passing glory; a
limitation of wealth, health and happi¬
ness. Therefore, that is extremely un¬
desirable. But to the ea*t—the source
of the rising <uu in all its splendor—is
where tho Celestial looks for all his
good gifts. From it com* (so lie be¬
lieves) light, life, wealth and Happi¬
ness. No misery, or wretchedness, or
want can como from tho glorious east;
so he must sloep with his head in that
direction, in order to get the full benefit
of the good gifts which will come to
him.
Often, in traveling, Chinamen carry
a mariner’s pocket-compa'S, iu order
that, when the time comes to retiro j
they may discover svhich way to point
their heads. If they make a mistake
and sleep the wrong way, they are like¬
ly to lose just so much health and hap-
pine*s. With a dead Chinaman this is
reversed; for sve believe that after
death the body has nothing to lose, and
the head, therefore, is placed before tho
west.
It is a fact worthy of notice and men¬
tion that those Chinamen who have be¬
come Christianized follow the old super¬
stition about sleeping just as much as
the heathen who steps his foot on
American soil for the first time. They
look upon it as truth, and not supersti¬
tion, from childhood up, and it is hard
to break down the teachings of a mother
and father, especially in China.— Lilies'
Home Journal.
California's Remarkable Soil.
“The soil of California is so fruit¬
ful,” said a native of the Golden State,
“that a man who accidentally dropped
a box of matches in his field discovered
the next year a fine forest of telegraph
poles.”
That’s nothing to ray state,” said a
native of Illinois. “A cousin of mine
who lives there lost a button off bis
jacket, and in less than a month ho
found a brand-new suit of clothes hang¬
ing on a fence near the spot.” — Texts
Siftinej<. ________
His Progress.
i^usi/away—You say you are-going to
call on Miss Palisade. What! in that
shabby outfit ?
Clevertcn—My dear boy, I’ve got
'way beyond tho point where she noticos
what I wear.
POLITE SWEDES.
A Nation of Gentlemen from
King to Coal-Heaver.
The Universal Truthfulness
and Honesty of Norsemen,
The beantiful politeness aud courte¬
sy of the Swedes is a thing that is very
striking to visitors. They havo a largo
assortment of bows, bobs, courtesie*
and hat-liftings, according to ago and
sex, but the lifting of the hat to mere
acquaintances reaches, 1 fancy, much
lower down in the social sca'o than
elsewhere in Europe; it looks odd to
see the butcher boy in a blouie elabor¬
ately taking off his hat to the baker’s
assistant. I suspect, on examination,
Swedish hats would be fouu l to con¬
tain a little cxira stiffening, in order to
enable them to stand tho wear and tear
of these greetings in the market places.
On ono occasion, when going by
steamboat to Upsala, I noticed a very
quaint example of this national trait.
The steamboat, as it nca'S Upsala,
passes throrgh many shallow reaches
of the Malar Lake, where the depth of
water is insufficient to allow of tho
passengers being lauded in the ordinary
manuer directly on the landing stages,
and so have to bo taken on shore in
small boats. The ferryman on shipping
his complement of passengers would
first take a dozen strokes or so in order
to clear the screw of the steamer, and
then would cniefu'ly lay aside his oars,
rise from his scat, aud take off liis hat
with a solemn bow to tho people sitting
in tho stern whom he had just taken
off tlie dock of the steamer. lie would
then row on again and put them ashore.
This d id not occur as an isolated in¬
stance, but regularly every time the
passengers had to be landoi by shore-
boats.
The women of the middle and lower
classes are little if at ail behind their
husbands and brothers in this matter.
Their good temper and pretty behavior
are worthy of all praise. The servant
girls in Dalecarlian peasant dress, the
cafe mamselles, and (lie young persons
employed in shops aili make the pretti¬
est of all possible little bob courtesie*,
and so, oddly enough, do the young
ladies of good family^ up to the day of
their confirmation, which ceremony
takes place rather later than with us,
generally about the age of sixteen.
From that day forth they put their hair
up and take to bowing.
The Upsala students amuse one a
good doat by tho elaboration an l cer¬
emoniousness of their manners. Any
day during the vacation a few of them
may be seen gathered around a table iu
the garden cafe of Hassolbacken or
Tivoli, drinking their punch. They
are mostly lads under twenty, but they
bow to each other, and make little civ¬
il specc'ics, and p’edgo each other
with solemn satutation, all according
to the strictest Swedish etiquette, as if
they were middle-aged gentlemen of
high dignity and position but slightly
acquainted with one another. Tney
certainly tako themselves very seri¬
ously.
Tho custom of pledging or health-
drinking is a survival from very ancient
times. The glass is raised, a slight
bow made, the word skat (literally
bowl) pronounced, followed by another
slight bow, when the glass is replaced
on the table, generally empty; it is not
do rigueur, however, that it should be
so, but iu Denmark, where a similar
custom obtains, tho glass must always
be drained to tho last drop. To E 1-
glish eyes it appears quaint to see this
complicated ceremonial observed to¬
wards each other by college companions
not yet out of their teens.
That this universal courtesy and po¬
liteness is not merely on the surface is
proved by the trouble to which Swe des
will invariably put themselves in order
to be of use to a stranger in need of
help or information. 8s much is this
the case that I at last tried to avoid
making my way in the country round
about Stockholm, because it so often
happened that the countryman whom I
interrogated would lay aside his occu¬
pation and accompany me some little
distance in order to make sure of set-
ting me on the right path, For this
service he would seldom accept any
recompense.
Another poiDt which soon attracts
the attention of visitors is the punc-
j tilious honesty ani truthfulness of the
! Swede5 i this is best seen in the many
' little incidents of daily life. When
asking for places at a theatre, for in¬
stance, the ticket e'erk never fails to
inform you if, owing to the crowded
state of the house, a better position
| would be secured with a cheaper ticket
than the one asked for. Again, when
parcels are taken out by steamers from
Stockholm to country places in the
neighborhood they are just thrown out
on to tho quay, where they frequently
remain half '.he day without being
claimed. It nover seems to occur to
any ouo that they could possibly be
taken by any one but their rightful own¬
ers. On n trip of any iongth, as for insianco
to Gothenburg by canal, a littlo book
lies in tho saloon of the steamer iu
which each pnssougor keeps his own
rcount of the number of meals, cafes,
cognac*, etc., he may take during tho
journey. But, iudeed, it is impossible
to talk to a Swcdo for any length of
time and not see how incapable of any
meanness or dishonesty ho must be.
Theio is nearly always a simplicity and
straightforwardness of manner the very
antipodes of affcc'ation, which is cer¬
tainly a very pleasiug attribute, and
which can fctrcely fail to cmvinco the
least observant person that ho has bc-
foro him a man who thoroughly
respects himself, and who walks very
steadfastly on the straight lino. Tho
Swedes, you feci, are a nation of gen¬
tlemen dow’ii to the coal-hcavcrs and
the wharf-men. — Temple Bur.
A Buffer Meets a Consumptive.
You have seen the duffer—.1 hulking
big fellow, with a bullet head aud lots
of wind aud fat, but without an ounce
of sand in his craw, lie always picks
his man, and ho always means to be
ccrtaiu that he has got hold of some¬
body who can be bluffed aud bull¬
doze I.
There was a chap of just this sort—a
duffer from Duffervillo—in the crowd
of passengers oblige 1 to wait at the
depot in Decatur, Alabama, for several
hours on account of a railroad accident.
After half an hour everybody sized him
up for what he was, but he was per¬
mitted to go blowing around because
no one wanted the excitement of a
row. IIj boasted of his fights and his
victories, and ho tried hard to pick a
fuss with two or three farmers, and
finally got hi* eye on something good.
It was a tall, slim, hollow- eyed man
from Ohio, who was evidently on his
way to Florida to die of consumption.
He had a deathly look to his face, aud
as he wandered up and down the plat¬
form ho coughed in a hollow and dis¬
mal way. Duffer arranged to moet
him in his walk, and at ones loudly
demanded:
“Did you move my valise off the
seat? ’
“No, sir,” was the reply.
“Well, I want to find the man who
did; I can mop the earth with him in
two minutes.”
“Well, I don’t care who it was. »>
“Oh! You don’t! Mighty indepen¬
dent, you?”
“Go away from me, sir I I don’t
know you and don’t want to.”
“Don’t you? If you were only a
well man I’d make you eat mud. As it
is, don’t give mo too much sass or I’ll
teach you manners."
“You are a loafer, sir—1 first-class
loaferl” said tho Buckeye, as he con¬
tinued to walk.
“I never strike a sick man,” replied
the other, “hut I will tweak your no3o
once just to reduce your temperature.
Now come-■”
Ho reached out with thumb and fin¬
ger, but he d du’t get the nose. In-
stca 1 of it he got it biff! bang! in tho
face with the right and left, and as he
went down the consumptive kicked
him to his feet and knocked him over a
baggage truck. Ho didn’t got up
again until two men assisted him. Ho
had two bunged eyes, a bloody nose
and a bleeding mouth, and he looked
about in a helpicis way and stam¬
mered :
“Gen—gentlemen, lead me some¬
where where I can be alone. ”
When he had gone some one asked
the consumptive if he wasn’t afraid the
exertion would give him a hemorrhage,
and lie replied:
“What do you take me for?”
“Aren’t you a Northern consumptive
on your way South?”
‘ Not for Joseph! I'm a professional
contortionist on my way to fill an en¬
gagement in Cincinnati. I saw that
duffer sizing mo up, aud so playel to
catch him. if he should want anything
more send him around.”—-V. Y. Sun.
A Cunning Portuguese Custom.
A curious survival os customs was il¬
lustrated in Lisbon somo days after tho
funeral of the late King Luis of Portu¬
gal. A funeral procession, composed
of officers, military, and citizras,
marched through the streets to places
where platforms covered with black
cloth had been erected, Four shields,
on which were painted the royal arms,
were borne aloft on long staves. On ar¬
riving at the platforms, the principal
persons took'their places upon them;
one of the shield-bearers, advancing to
the front and chanting “Weep O Por*
tuguese, for your king, Dom Luis I, is
dashed his shield to the ground
with such violence that it was shat-
tered. This was repeated at each plat-
form, while the bells were tolled dur¬
ing the wjiole ceremony. Tho proceed¬
ings were closed with a requiem
service.
CHILDREN'S COLUMN.
A MEB8AOI5.
She wasn’t on the play ground, she wasn't
on the lawn,
The Jlttleoue was missing and bed-time com¬
ing on.
We hunted in the garden, we peepod about
to see
If sleeping under rose tree or lilac she might
bo.
But nothing came in answer to alt our anx¬
ious call
Until at length we hastened within the
<lar J >ing hall. broke
And tli on tho stillness there a
sill cry tone—
The darling mite was standing before tin
telephone,
And softly, as we listened, came stealing
down the stairs:
o. Central! Give me Heaven. I want
to say my prayers.”
—Sydney Bay re, in Independent
RANG THE DOOK-JiliU..
1 once had a cat whoso intelligence
was rcmarkablo. Wo lived in an old-
fashioned liouso; the kitchen was sep¬
arated from tho collar by a partition
with a glass window in it, and there
was also a small window in tho cellar
(hat looked into tho street. It was
broken and this cat could pass out of it.
Sho was never allowed to go upstairs,
but sometimes we would tako her up
on tho sly. The servant was much an -
noyed by tho doorbell’s ringing, and
ou going to answer find no ono there,
thinking it was tho boys in tho street.
Tho cat had a family and all were dis¬
posed of but one.
She seamed very much grieved at tho
loss. One day I happened into tho
kitchen and saw the cat on tho top of
the coal with her paw up in the air,
playing with something. III10 hell rang
and the servant went as usual, and I
noticed tho cat tako her only kitten and
jump through tho broken window. The
servant came back. No ono, as usual,
but the cat came in with her kitten and
the girl. I noticed when I wont to tho
door that tho cat always came in. Tho
mystery was solved. The paw I saw in
the air was pulling tho bell-wire, and
the eat had noticed when the bell rang
tho servant always openod the door,
and when lockod out from tho liouso
went to tho collar and rang the bell,
and then to tho front door to be let in.
—IY. Y. Journal.
THE SURGEON JUKI).
Two birds were building a uest un¬
der a study wiulow. A goutlemau sat
in that study every dny. IIo watched
tho birds. They were building the
nest of clay. They brought bits of wot
clay in their bills. They stuck thoso
bits upon the wall.
After they had worked busily for
awhile, they would perch on a troo
near by. There they would sit and look
at the nest. Ssmetimos thoy would 11/
away an l tear down all that thoy had
built. Ssmetimos apart of the nest
would fall down, Then the birds
would sit aud think how to build it
letter.
Right iu the middle of their work an
acciJent happened. One of tho birds
stepped re’ a pioco of glass. It cut her
foot very badly. But Mrs. Bird was a
brave littlo body. She wished to keep
ou witli her work. She did keop on
until she v/as faint and sick, and could
not fly up from tho ground, Thon sho
lay down. She closed her eyes, Sho
looked very sick.
The other bird looked at her anx¬
iously. Thou lie turned around and
gave tlireo loud strange cries. Soon,
several birds came flying about to seo
what was tho matter. A little surgeon
bird came witli them. lie looked liko
the others, but lie soon showed that he
was a surgeon, He brought a bit of
wet clay in his bill. He ground it fiuo
with his own little beak. Then lie
spend it on the bird’s sore, stiff foot,
just as a surgeon spreads a plaster.
Next, he took in his bill a long green
cornstalk which lay near.' Ho flow up
on a tin water-pipe under the window.
One end of tho cornstalk was near ttio
lame bird. Sho understood what to
do. She took hold of it with her bill,
and helped herself up ou the waler-
pipe too. Then the surgeon bird
helped her into the half built nest.
Poor Mrs. Bird! It was very hard
to be sick and to move into tho half
built liouso.
What do you suppose tho littlo sur¬
geon bird did next? lie went to work
and helped Mr. Bird finish tho nest,
then he flew off home.
Could tho gentleman in tho study
havo been kinder or wiser than that
little bird ?—I iter state Primary Reader.
Making Him Understand.
She—Will you please close the door,
Mr. Stayer?
He—Why, it is closed.
She—Y'es, but I meant from the other
side .—Somero lie Jmrnal.
One Tiling Puzzled Him.
He—The fools are not all dead yet.
She—That's as true as you live.
And he couldn’t understand why she
emphasized tho “you.”
NO. 22.
At Milking Time. 1
At milking time, when shadows climb
The pasture bars, and sheep bells chime
High up along the sunset hill—
’TTs sweet to wander where he will
Ami take no thought of care or time.
The heart of boyhood in its prime
Lights up with joy tho cheek of grime,
When katydids como 014 and trill, 1
At milking time. $
There's not in any land or clime
An hour so sacred, so sublime,
As that when pjticnf kinc distil
The wines of life in many a rill
Of rippling and rcsilent rhyme,
At milking time.
—James -V. Matthews.
HUMOROUS.
Caught on tho fly—The spider’s wob.
A business done on tick—Telegraph*
ing.
Where everything is a miss—In a
girl’s boarding school.
Sword-swuliowors ought to try saws
for a while. Thoy would bo more
toothsome.
“How long was Bearson's speech?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t have my gas
rnetor with me.”
Ferocious—A term applied by man
to thoso animals that objoct to serving
him in the capacity of food.
Lady (calling, on friend)—Oil, isn't
it splendid? I have malo six calls,
aud you are tho only one I’ve found at
home.
“Do you think I look pretty m this
habit, Jack?” “Pretty? You’re as pretty
as a picture—and I’d like to take the
picture.”
“That cigar you smoko has its ad¬
vantages.” “Liko it?” “No; that’*
just it. A friend doesn’t fcol hurt if
you don't offer him ono.”
A farmer was holding a plough
Hitched up to a crumple-horned cough.
The beast felt o’erweighted
And rccalcitreighted
And the farmer's an invalid nough.
Cross-Examining Counsel—Isn't your
husbanl a burglar? Witness—Y-e-s.
Cross-Examining Counsol—And didn't
you know ho was a burglar when you
marriod him? Witness—Yes; but I was
getting a littlo old and I had to choose
between a burglar and a lawyer, so
wlmt elso could I do?
J’m tho European cloud of war:
I’m never out of sight;
I don't know what they keep mo for—
They never have a fight.
But I’m forever on the list;
At every passing hap
They tell me I’d be sadly misse
If I were not on tap.
Facts About Watermelons.
The watermelon appears to bo divided
into two distinct classes—one adaptod
to very hot Iocalitaos and tho othor not
ablo to hear well more than a limited
dogreo of heat. As a rule, large
melons bear largo seods and vice versa,
but there are exceptions. The most
delicious melon*, generally speaking,
are thoso with thin rind* aud pink or
deep rod flesh. Such melons, however,
do not bear transportation very welL
Large, tough-rinded melons of good
quality, which havo the additional
merit of carrying well and being good
keepers, are now produced in large
quantities in tho southern states. We
uow produco a greator variety of largo
watermelons than over boforc, some at¬
taining to 100 pounds and over in
favorablo seasons and localities.
Formerly our melons wore mostly
long and oval in form and dark green
or striped, and boro largo black or
brown seods. Seeds from Spanish
melons produced our first thin-rinded
melons. The French gardeners, when
they want to keep melons a long tiino,
cut them with long stem*. These
stems are coiled up and covered with
brown sugar to prevent them from dry-
ing up by exposure to the air. Melons
from Spain nnd Italy thrivo here, but
there arc not many varieties worthy of
cultivation.— N. Y. World.
Wedding Rings.
Tho latest thing in wodding rings
comes from England, and is a narrow
but thick circlet of 22-carat fine gold.
This has como in fashion in America in
the course of the last year, replacing
the old stylo ring, which is both heavy
and wide, boing sometimes half an inch
broad. Thoso latter have been in use
»s far back as I can remember. The
Germans always buy two plain gold
rings, tho lady giving ono to her be¬
trothed and ha one to her. The “al¬
liance” ring is sometime called for, and
often manufactured to order. It is
made of two circlots fitting into each
other and coming apart something like
a puzzle, and is a revival of a very old
style. The ordinary wedding ring
costs from $7. 50 to $15, although the
English ring is somewhat more expen¬
sive. In engagement rings individual
taste is the only law, but set stones are
great favorites. A novelty is a ring of
three circlets, almost as narrow as
wire, each set with a band of different
stones, such as pearls, turquoises and
conch-shells. — St. Louis Obb‘ D moerat.