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About The Enterprise. (Carnesville, GA.) 1890-1??? | View Entire Issue (June 13, 1890)
VOL. I. Tim Song. The poet sang of War, that mighty Icing I Whose crown is flame, whose oath is thun¬ dering, Whose sceptre steel. The pecan shrilled unheard Of fiery souls by battle-fury stirred; And scream log shellg out-sung Ills minstre'. lug. Again he sang the glories Gold can bring; Out-Voiced him now the coins’ metallic ring; And, mad for gain, men heeded not u word The poet sang. Then softly to his own heart did be sing; And trembling-sweet a song of I.ove took Wing, As tender as the call of mating bird i The stnoke-grimed soldier in the trenches heard, The flushed gold-heapcf caught each whisper. ing Tlic poet sang) •^[Dorothea Diatom! in Frank Leslie'*. HEE PARTY. 1lY SIUUU'.Y hllOWNlt. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, little girl,” said Doctor Deemer, “but 1 am afraid this party of yours is quite out of the question.” Stacy set down the quaint old Chinese coffee-pot and looked at him with large beryl-blue eyes of disapproval. “Uncle,” said she, “you promised it to me.” Doctor Deemer retreated behind the stronghold of the weekly paper. Stacy’s reproachful eyes were too much for him. “Yes,” lie acknowledged, “I know I did. And I meant to keep my prom¬ ise, but I couldn’t foresee t lien how things would turn out. Our funds are very lowin fact, we seem to be in debt everywhere. 1 don’t really know What is to be the end of it.” “Yet,” said Stacy, with slow, severe accents, “you went to the book sale And paid forty dollars for that old edition of ‘Beaumont and Fletcher. » >! “Ye 1 ,1 know, Stacy j it was a great barge ill;” “Forty doll Would hate furnished music and refreshments for tny parly.” “DOn’t, sholii, child,” said the doc¬ tor, stirring his egg. “i’fri Very sorry! I forgot all aboiit the party;" “You’re always forgetting ine,” said Stacy, a big tear balancing itself On each reproachful tlytb “My poor party-—and i’d told so many people about it, and promised 10 invite all the girls! I shall never accept aiiy more invitations, no tv that 1 can’t repay them!” Flash—plash! Went the big tears on tile old Canton ehiita breakfast plate. Doctor Deemer Was a tender-hearted Wan, and the two diamond drops went to his very soul. “Don’t cry, Stacy,” said lie. “Have your party just the same, with cake and lemonade. Debby can make very fair cupcake, and lemons arc only thirty cents a dozen. And Simeon shall bring tip his fiddle.” “Cupcake, and lemonade, and Simeon,” scornfully uttered Stacy. “No, Uncle Deemer, 1 haven’t fallen so low as that. I can do without a party, but I can't condescend to second- rate invitations.” And she ran ont of (lie room in tho tempest of tears, coming into collision with old Debby as sho did so, anil scattering a plate of graham gems on the floor. Doctor Deemer and liis niece, Anas- tasia, lived all alone in Roslyn Hall, one of those great echoing houses where cverything goes to prove the empty glow of the past. Doctor Deemer had lost his fortune, and Anastasia’s too, in a series of disastrous speculations, lie had all the lasts of a man of wealth, and a blind adoration of his ancestry. He himself was quite con¬ tent to dwell in life’s shadow; but sometimes it seemed to him ns if Stacy ought to have a little more sunshine. Stacy thought so, too. Her 18-year- soul Vevolved against tho sort of life she led with a great rebellion. • “Louise Afelton is engaged lo ho married,” thought she, “and Emily Eldon spends her winters in New York. But I shall live and die an old maid, for I never sec any one, nor travel anywhere- Louise was going to bring her Chicago cousins lo my Easter party, and Emily was going to write to Air. Vavasor to come down from New York for it. Emily said Air. Vavasor thought I was the pret¬ tiest girl itt Claneonnell. I don't be¬ lieve that; but I should like to have him see me in a white serge dress with baby-blue sash ribbons, I wore a hid- eous blue seersucker that day when he came to see the prize chrysanthemums iu tiie garden.” Up and down, up and down the long oak-floored gallery tore Stacy with flaming cheeks and yellow curls stream¬ ing out behind. It was Stacy's way when she got into a passion to walk herself out of it. Just appos te a por¬ trait of let- groat-grandaunt, whose name sho had somehow inherited, sli 2 tame to a sudden stop. THE ENTERPRISE. » ‘•Well,” she cried, “why do you stare so steadily down at me, A-tint Anastasia, with those bio blue eyes? It realty does seem as if you had some¬ thing you wanted to say to mo and somehow couldn't get it out. Really, one don’t wonder that old Debby scur¬ ries past you in the twilight and says the family portraits haunt iter worse than any ghost. Oh, it's all very well for you to smilo in that simpering, inane fashion," she added, shaking her litllo dimpled list at the counterfeit presentment of her dead-und-gonc an¬ cestress. “You were an English beauty, and danced at General Wash¬ ington’* state balls, and Gilbert Stuart painted your rait, and you were married at eighteen and went to tho West Indies. That was life and hap¬ piness enough, even if you did die young. People say your eyes and mine are exactly alike, but Pm sure I never was half as pretty as you. But perhaps it's the string of pearls and the satin gown that makes you so lovely and—” She stooped suddenly and picked up an opened letter lying on the dark oaken floor, directly under tho tar¬ nished gilt frame. “What’s this?” she cried, “Oh, a letter from the picture dealers in New York. They want a genuine example of Gilbert Stuart for a private collec¬ tion, and have heard of ‘The Lady with the Pearls’ in the old Roslyn Hall gallery. ‘Anastasia Roslyn, 1789. Are prepared to give two hundred dol¬ lars for it if Doctor Deemer will bind¬ Iv consider their offer. And here’s Uncle Deemer’s pencil writing upon it. ‘Kec’d March 8d, 18—. Mem. To write back that tiie Roslyn pictures are not in the market!’ Oho! But Un¬ cle Deemer never consulted me—and I am the owner of the Roslyn pictures! Two hundred dollars—that’s a deal of money. AY bat do you say, Aunt An¬ astasia?” looking up with eager blue eyes at the dim pictured face—“will you help me with my party? It isn’t that I have no family feeling, but you’re dead and buried, you see, and you went to parties and danced when you were a girl, and you must know exactly how 1 feel.” Stacy Deemer rushed upstairs to her room, wrote a hurried letter to the NcW York picture dealer, ran to the postoffice just iu time to save the mai 1 , and came dancing back, her yellow curls afloat, her cheeks pink as roses. The wreaths of snow Were melting away from the hillsides, the maple trees wore bursting into red stars of bloom, the lilac and white crocuses lifted their tiny heads along the shel¬ tered edge of the path, and an adven¬ turous bluebird shrilled his tiny trum¬ pet from the old cedar grove. Stacy, too, could have sung aloud in the full¬ ness of her girlish glee. “I shall have my party, af.er all,” said she. “AVhat’s this, Stacy?” Dr. Deemer stared first at her, then at the slip of pale-green paper in her hand. “It's a check, Uncle Deemer, for two hundred dollars. Can you cash it for me ?” “A:—check!” “Yes. I’ve sold my aunt Anasta¬ sia,” calmly adinit'ed Stacy. “She’s going to help me give my party, the darling ‘Lady AA’ith the Pearls.’” Jt was some time before the old gentleman could be made to under- stand the full extent of his niece’s der- e ftelion. Then he grew pale, “Stacy,” said lie, “you don’t desrve to have any ancestors! I would re¬ deem this picture with a tliousand- Uollar bill if I had it! Has it gone?” “A week ago, Uncle Deemer,” “I’ll have nothing to do with it!” said lie. “it’s almost equal to trading in human flesh and blood! you’ll be selling me next, von wicked girl!” “But, Uncle Decme"—” “Please leave me, Stacy; I’d rather he alone.” Stacy went away rather awed. There was something in Uncle Deemer’s pale old face that frightened her. “ 1 —«)most—wish 1 hadn’t sent the invitations,” tboughtshe. “But, after al), Aunt Anastasia was my very own grandaunt, and I'm quite sure she was willing. 1 could read it in her eyes. Sho was a girl once, and I know she liked parties.” But Stacy had not calculated for all that followed. Uncle Deemer was an old man and very feeble., and the idiock was to j much for him. He took to his bed. A physician was sent for, who shook ids head and looked un¬ utterable things. “Something on his mind,” said he. “It's Aunt Anastasia,” faltered Stacy; “and it’s ail my doing. I—I sold a family portrait that he is especially fond of. “Get it back again, at all hazards,” said (he doctor. “I can't fight disease as long as all the mental forces are against me.” CARNESVILLE, OA„ FRIDAY, JUNE 13 . 1890 . “Do you think he’ll die?’ said trembling Stacy, “I hope not,” said the man of medicine. For the first time in her life Stacy went to New York, to interview the picture-dealer. The picture-dealer was sweeter than milk, smoother than oil; but it was beyond his power bo, said to help her. The picture was already hanging in the private collection, No. — Fifth Avenue. “Can I go there?” said Stacy. “Well — I suppose — you — can,” doubtfully observed the picture* dealer. “But I don't believe it will do any good.” Stacy, however, was resolute in try¬ ing to undo the mischief she had done. She went straight to No. —, Fifth Avenue. “I have called ab ut a portrait,” said she. “A Gilbert Stuart, ‘Tho Lady With the Pearls.’” Tho butler eyed her closely. Sho had no leather bag in her hand, nor did she appear like a solicitor of sub¬ scriptions. “I’ll ask master,” said he. “Take him my card,” said Stacy, loftily. “Miss Decmer of Roslyn Ilall.” Tho butler showed her into a recep¬ tion-room with crimson crape curtains festooned between pink marble col¬ umns and a great, grinning Japanese idol in old ivory and cloisonnee, and departed noiselessly. Presently another footstep crossed the threshold. “Miss I teenier.” Stacy uttered a little cry. “Oh, Mr. Vavasor, is it you? Oh, please, I want mv grandaunt back again, and here is the picture-man’s check. I haven’t even cashqd it, you see.” “But,” said'Mr. Vavasor, looking with artistic admiration at tiie sun¬ shine glinting on her golden hair, the shifting light in her wonderful blue eyes, “I don’t think I quite un¬ derstand.” And then Stacy, blushing ami em¬ barrassed, made her confession. Poor little wrong-headed, impulsive Stacy. “I didn’t know uncle Deemer was so fond of her,” murmured she, “or I never would have sold her. And please, may 1 have her back.” ‘I don’t think you realize, Miss Deemer, how much I value that ‘Gil¬ bert Stuart,’ ” hesitated Vavasor. “Oh, but she’s my_ ancestress,” urged Stacy. “And she was my namesake, and people say I am like her, and when I sold her I sold the luck of Roslyn. Please,please,” cried S:acy, wringing her poor little hands, “let me have her back.” “On one condition only,” said Air. Vavasor. Stacy looked terrified. “That you allow me to give you that party. You are to supply the old ball for dancing and the evergreens, and I am to send down the music and the supper, and mind, you are to give me tho very first dance of ail.” Stacy clapped her hands. “And I sha’n’t have lo recall the invitations after all,” said she. “Oh, how splendid it will be! If only Uncle Deemer gets better!” Uncle Deemer did get better, dating from tho day when the “Gilbert Stuart” was lmng up on his bedroom wall. “The luck of Roslyn has come back,” said he. It was very kind of Air. Vavasor to travel down with you, child. I suppose he knew the picture must be carefully guarded.” The party came off with eciat. Stacy looked like a newly opened rosebud. The music was delightful—the supper such as only Cbarczzi could get up. “But Stacy,” said Emily Eldon, who was of a rather critical turn, “mamma says yon shouldn’t accept so many favors from any gentleman who is neither your relative nor your ac¬ cepted lover.” “Docs she?” said Stacy, with a mis¬ chievous sparkle of the eyes. “AVell, then, tell her to set her mind at rest; Air. Vavasor is my accepted lover! He asked me to marry him last night, and I’m sure Aunt Anastasia knows it”—- with a bright upward glance at tiie por¬ trait—“for see how she smiles down upon me.” And for a moment it did seem as if there was a smile on the face of “The Eadv AVith the Pearls.” — [Fireside Companion. A'ery Timely. Stranger—“I have here a poem, sir, ‘The Beautiful- > •> on Editor—“My dear sir, we have 10,- 000 on ‘The Beautiful Snow’ on band now, and we don’t want any more.” Stranger—“Then perhaps, sir, you will allow me to continue. Ary poem is on ‘The Beautiful Mud.'” Editor—'“AVeTi take that, young man.”—Judge. Laziness grows oil people; it begins in cobwebs ant) ends in iron chains, TOWING CITY OF PARIS. THE CAPTAIN OF THE A1YKIAT1C GIVES HIS VERSION. Laid by the Steamer for About Seven Hours and Left Her. Tho While Star steamship Adriatic brought in to-day tho true version of what occurred when she steamed many miles out of her course to assist the disabled Inman liner, the City of Paris, early on the morning of March 28. 'Ibis version will be observed to diflor a good deal from, the version which made tho Adriatic flit by, “lmrdly checking her engine, saying that she v ouid take passengers to New York, but would not tow us to Fastnet,” and followed her with tho execrations of the City of Paris’ passengers. Capt. William Roberts of tho Adriatic says lie observed a boat from the City of Faris in charge of the chief officer at 1:30 A. M. He immediately stopped and took tiie chief officer aboard. “He reported (lie condition of his ship,” Capt. Rob¬ erts said, “and said that Capt. Wat¬ kins wished to he towed to Queens¬ town. I tolil him that 1 had the Eng¬ lish mail aboard, and that I would not feel justified in towing the City of Faris, but that i would do all in my power to save life, Another sfeam- ship, which I supposed to he the City of Chester, of tiie Inman line, hove in sight jest then, and I sent up rockets at frequent intervals to intercept her. She was bound west, and was within four miles of the Adrjat’c. The boat of the City of Faris" with tiie chief officer aboard, meanwhile had been put between tho west bound steamer and our ship. The steamer kept on without paying any attention to our signals, which she must have observed. The chief officer boarded us again, I told him I was going to the City of Faris, to save life if necessary, but not to tow her, and asked him to go hack with me. lie declined, saying lie would make for the land. It was now 4 o’clock. On our way to the City of Faris wc sight¬ ed the Aldersgato, hound for Liver¬ pool. AVe signalled her, and I sent tny chief officer aboard. Her captain said lie would go to the City of Paris arid help to take some of the passen¬ gers from her if necessary. tVc then proceeded in company With the disabled ship. AVe Were life- pared to take the passengers to Queens* town or Now York if necessary. AVlien we arrived along-side of the City of Faris an officer from her came aboard and said that Capt. Watkins xvidled ns to tow his ship to Queens¬ town. I answered tli.t I had come to save life. After tho officer had con¬ veyed my- refusal to tow the City of Paris, Capt. AVatkins hoisted the sig¬ nals, ‘Thanks; go ahead.’ AVe then, at G:54 o’clock, proceeded, leaving the Aldersgato and the Cily of Faris in communication, AVe received no in* tiination from either Capt. AVatkins or Hie officer who came aboard that the City of Faris was in danger of foundering. AA'e stopped within ft ship’s length of the Inman boat, and waved for the captain’s representative to come off in a boat. She did not seem to be in any danger. There was a long westerly swell, but the sea was not rough, and (here were no indications of a st< rot. AA'hen Capt. AVatkins signalled that we could pro¬ ceed, we saw no reason for remaining. That Capt. AVatkins i pprouated our services in bringing the Aldersgato lo him and in offering to save life if nec¬ essary ,was apparent by his signal thank¬ ing us.” The Adriatic had 893 passengers aboard herself, beside her large crew. There were over 1000 souls on the City ef Paris. The Adriatic passed 21 ice- bergs off the banks within a space of 100 miles The first - (fleer of the ( ify of (dick¬ er, which arrived yesterday, said they did not sight, tho Adriatic on the trip, and that if they had soon in r signals they would have responded. The City of Chester's course was further south than the Adriatic’s, lie said. The Expatriated Twin. An old Boston lawyer tells a curiou! story of an older Boston family which illustrates the material for fiction that is always afloat in a community. This story is to the effect that in the early part of this century, at the time when the idea of founding a family had an especially stronghold upon the imagin¬ ations of a certain class, as it came lari-r to have upon the Vanderbilts and Astors, there Jived in Boston a wealthy merchant who bad no children, lle was possessed of the notion of the grandeur of standing in history as the founder pf a distinguished .line, but the (jifficuRy of a sniping ibis role when there was not oven an heir la baud down his name was a severo blow, it was when he was already well advanced in life that ' Joyful fact Dint ho might expect a child at last came to iitl to the brim his cup of joy, already well tilled by the turns made in speculations requiring much financial shrewdness. Great preparations were made for the expected infant, and the merchant declared to his friends with the greatest confidence that the child would he a boy. The new-comer was to hear the name of his grand¬ father and father, and from the stm t was to bo regarded as the prospective head of the business house ami heir apparent, to whom |couhl not he paid too much honor, In course of time the child was born; it was in¬ deed a boy, but with him there was another boy. The mother, who was already a woman of middle age, died within a week after the birth of the twins. The merchant was a man accus¬ tomed to having Ids will respected, and he could not lie reconciled to this whimsical trick of fate, whereby she gave him not only what he asked, but so much more. I’o seemed almost as much dissapointed at having tv/o sons as he had been before at having none. A month or two after the death of his wife lie took his two infant sons and their nurse, and in one of his finest vessels sailed for Europe, then, of course a good deal farther from America than it is at present. At the end of six months he returned with a new nurse and only the elder of the twins, the other having died, lie said, in Franco. In the course of time tho merchant sent for his lawyer, the father of my informant, and made his will. He confided to tho lawyer that his other son was alive in France, and he placed in his hands the papers necessary for tracing him in case the death of tiie elder should render the extinction of the family imminent, lie also put in¬ to the hands of the lawyer certain funds in trust of which the income was to bo remitted annually to a cer¬ tain address in France. This done, the merchant, whoso conscience is not re¬ ported to have troubled him in the least in tho matter, lived out his ap¬ pointed time, and was gathered to his fathers, and his son, by this time a young man, reigned in his stead. Things went on undisturbed until the death of the lawyer, when his son, who tells (lie story, came into posses¬ sion of the facts as part of his legacy in the way of his father’s business. He felt, it his duty to tell the whole to the head of the wealthy house which the departed merchant had succeeded in founding, tho elder twin, now a man of middle age, with a family of his own. The latter was ijot unnat¬ urally startled to be told that lie had a brother alive on tho other side of the World, but he set out to Europe to find him. He followed up the clews given him by (he lawyer, and on his return lie confided to the latter that ho had found Hie missing twin- “Ho does not know that lie is not French,” he said. “He is perfectly contented, and he has all that ho needs. It 1; too late to undo what my father did. I have invested in his name funds enough to make him comfort* able for tho rest of his life. Now we will burn the papers and forget that be ever existed.” Wedding Rings. tie latest thing in wedding rings comes from England, and is a narrow hilt thick circlet of 22-carat fine gold. This has Cottle ill fahion in Amer¬ ica in the course of. the last year, replacing (ho old style ring, which is both heavy and wide, being sometimes half art inch broad. These latter have been in Use as far back as I can re¬ member, i be Gentians always buy two plain gold rings, the lady giving 0,10 her betrothed and lie one to her. The “alliance” ling is some¬ times called for, and often manufac¬ ture to order, ft is made of two circlets fitting into each other and coining apart something like a puzzle, and is a revival of a very old stvle. The ordinary wedding ring costs from $7.50 to $15, although the English ring is somewhat more expensive. Jn 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 wilh a band of different stones, such as pearls, turquoises and conch- shells.—St. Louis Globe-Democrat. A Lazy Spot Somewhere. The number of people killed by lightning last year was exactly the number hanged for murder. Some j p:op!e may cal! thi-i a curious coinci- j donee, blit if isn't. It simply shows that there was a lazy spot somewhere*, and that one side or the other ought ‘ to he ashamed of its poor showing. IVU THE HOUSEWIFE. KKKIMM! 1'trST DOWN WpiII.E SWEl'PINfl. Don’t sweep—or allow your domes¬ tic to—with the broom in front of you, as though you were shovelling the car¬ pet. As sure ns you do, the dust will rise to the ceiling and you will dig the nap from the carpet and shovel it up in the dustpan. More carpets arc worn out by hard sweeping than by regular “wear and tear.” Sweep wish a downward, regular stroke, keeping (lie dust under tho broom. Wring out a house cloth or mop in soaped water, and wipo over your ear- pot after the dust has settled, and sec how clean and bright it will look.— [New York Journal. Till-; ni.slNIKC'ITXO SKA SON Chloride of lime is tho safest, as well nsoncof the best disinfectants. Itowet its -nerd to the free chlorine gas which it contains when fresh and gives oil slowly into the air. When used in sufficient quantity in a room or cliOsen space, it combats much of its impuri¬ ties. As for the genus of disease, this agent is something of an enemy to them, although not a powerful one. It is customary in contagious diseases to lay the chloride of lime about in sau¬ cers. Some good is certainly done in that way, but it is measured by the quantity of lime used, which, in order to have a very decided effect, must be eonsidernb'e. It acts exceedingly well in solution with water as a disinfectant of “wash clothing” which has been within the atmosphere of a sickroom containing a patient ill with ail infections disease. Some use it in solution to disinfect bathpipcs; but it is scarcely fit for that purpose, as the chlorine corrodes lead and iron. Tho fact should be remem¬ bered that in using chloride it mmt he confined in order to render it effica¬ cious as a disinfectant. We occasion¬ ally see it sprinkled about in foul places, such as open drains, on heaps of filth, etc.—places freely exposed to the air. Jn such situations it is abso¬ lutely powerless to do good. it must be in a practically closed space, where the gases arising from it can lie con¬ fined until they can do their work.—• [Brooklyn Citizen. uaudknino fou women. The, season is at hand when women interested in flower culture put into execution the plans made during the winter and spring for the arrange¬ ment of their flower gardens. An article in tho American Garden hear¬ ing upon this subject contains tho fol¬ lowing sensible advice to semi-in- valiils: “It’s so much trouble,” said a poor little woman I was urging to throw away her pill boxes, stop taking tonics and to go out into tho garden; “I’m dressed up iu the afternoon, and I couldn’t st -op over, and my sleeves are so tight I can hardly take a hair¬ pin out of my head.” That’s tho truth; fashion decrees tight dresses and sleeves that fit close to the skin, and doctors wax fat and wealthy with all their women patients on hand. But you needn't look like a fright, even if you spend hours digging up the dirt with your trowel. Have a comfortable sacque made of some washable stuff, slip off your dress and put it on and a broad-brimmed lint. Don’t try to work with a henry spade. Then: me light, strong ones that make (lie digging quito easy and pleasant. Keep your tools handy, and always see they are in place before you go into the house. A basket for weeds, another for a ball of twine, hammer, trowel, hits of leather to fasten the vines, tacks, scissors— you will need nil these more or less every day, and it’s a delight to work if you can lay your hand right on every needed article. IlFCIl’KS. Asparagus—AVash clean, break off the white part, and put the green part into boiling water, slightly salted; boil five minutes, and pour off the water; add more, being hot, and boil 10 to 15 minutes; then put in a lump of butter, salt and pepper (some stir in a thickening made of one teaspoon flower mixed with cold water) ; toast three thin slices bread, spread them with butter, put in a dish and turn the asparagus over it. The last water must be boiled down until just enough for the giavy. Fried Spring Chicken—Clean, joint, and soak in salt and water for two hours. Fut in a frying-pan equal quantities of lard and butter, in all enough to cover Hie chicken. Dip each piece in beaten egg, roll in cracker crumbs and drop in the boil¬ ing fat; fry till brown on both sides. Serve on a hot platter, garnishing with sprigs of parsley. Four most of the fat from the frying-pan, thicken the remainder with browned flour, adding to it one cup of boiljng water. Serve this in a graw-loat. NO. 23. The Blffcrcucc. A smiling ilaine, T’liknown In finin'. Yet nancy, sweet and and fair, Stood chattering to a girlhood's “flame*,” Now gray, in heard and hair. He urged some plan, Ami eager ran The gamut of Its pleasures; As oft before, they scan A day of brimming measures. “If we can go, I'ray, let me know," She said, “the hour of starling!” “IIow run I let you let you—let you know?” ( II 'iHi lull, in hand) at parting. A rising sigh, A kindling eye; Vexation, (though she hid it —) “When we were young" she made reply, “You never asked—you did it!" ih mokoi s. Hearts are never really broken, but many a one has been fired with a “bang.” Mcphlsto (behind the scenes)—Hal what do I see? Only four wreaths thrown on the singe, and I paid for five. A Faris milliner lias made ft ten- strike by teaching her parrot to say every time a fair client enters, “Oh, ain’t you just lovely!” OueRt (helping himself pretty freely to tho Cognac)—It is very peculiar. I never feel an appetite for dinner un¬ less I take a glass of Cognac after¬ wards. Husband—Can nothing dissuade yon from your determination to go on tiie stage ? AVifo—Nothing. I have already tiled my divorce papers. “Miss Browning used to bo very cool towards you.” “Yes; but 1 took her skating, arid it’s all right.” “I suppose you took a tumble, and broke the ice?” Airs. Timothy Seed—I know that speckled hen is laying eggs every day by tho way sho'cacklcs, but I can’t find tho nest. Mr. Timothy Seed—Perhaps she lias mislaid her eggs. A Delicate Hint..—“Return my best thanks to your master, John, and tell him 1 am much flattered by his kind present of the game.” “Yessir—an’ Supposin’ master arsks what you guv me for myself—what’ll I teJlhim, sir?’’ - Pick Me Up. Student (to his friend)—Sc«j yon¬ der comes old Mr. X-, who lias helped to dry so many a tear. “The dear, kind-hearted gentleman! And pray tell me how?” ■ . “He is » manufacturer of pockot- handkercliiofs.” Luring Him On.—Servant (at sweet girl’s boudoir)—“Mr. Nicefellow is in the pa miss.” Sweet girl (throw* ing don ., a novel)—“Horrors! And my hair is all down! Tell him he’ll have to wait a little as I’m in the kitchen helping mother.”—Life. Ran Ilis Train Through the One Abend. “There are heroes and heroes, and' there arc licroinos and heroines,” said Chauncey M. Depew in speaking of personal bravery. “Thero are blue*, shirted men wlu> go over our railroad lines every day in engine cabs who would laugh at you if you intimated to them that they are heroes, and who in spite of all are as brave as any man who ever drew a sword or carried a musket. Railroad men have seldom much time to think. They are cowards or heroes in a second. Not Jong ago one of i ur engineers of an express train rounded a turn in the road and saw that another train had been derail- ed, and lay right across the track. A collision was inevitable. The engineer might have taken chances and jumped, but lie didn’t. As lie said afterward: “‘I saw right away we were in for it and like a flash it struck me that our only chance was to go right ahead and cut through if we could. So I threw her open and let her go.’ “ The experiment was perilous, hut it was successful. He did‘cutthrough,’ and no one was injured. This act of the engineer was thatof an exceedingly courageous, cool-headed man. “Another engineer on a AVestern road performed a similar act sometime ago with tragic results. He tried to _ or jn fact was forced to try to—cut through a freight train that had been thrown across the track. Non; of the passengers were injured, but the engin- ecr and his firemen were killed. This is but too often the reward of bravery in all walks of life.”—Philadelphia Press. AH 11 Boom Balloons. Smokeless powder, some military men believe, will boom balloons. They argue that wilh no smoko the difficulty of observing an enemy’s doings will be increased, and that bal¬ loons would, solve the problem—could they hut ho managed,
