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VOL. 1.
Why the Cows Came Late.
Crimson sunset burning
O’er the tree-fringed hll 1 -
Golden are the mouiows,
Ruby flash the rills,
Quiet in the farm house,
Home the farmer hies,
But his wife is watching,
Shading anxious eyes,
While she lingers with her pall beside the
barnyard gate,
Wondering why her Jenny and the cows
come home so late.
Jenny, brown-eyed maiden,
Wandered down the lam*
That was ere the daylight
Had begun to wane.
Deeper grow the shadows,
Circling swallows cheep,
Katydids are calling.
Mists o'er meadows creep.
Still the mother shades her eyes beside the
barnyard gate,
And wonders where her Jenny and the cows
can be so Jale.
Loving sounds are falli g
Homeward now at last,
Speckle, Beis and Brindle
Through the. gate have passed;
Jenny sweetly (Hushing,
Jamie, grave and shy,
Takes the pahs from mother.
Who stands silently by.
Not one word is spoken as that mother shuts
the gate,
But now she knows why Jenny ami the
‘ cows came homo so late.
— [Omaha World-Herald.
ON PIKE’S PEAK.
I had been in the signal service but
little over a year when I was sent to
Pike’s Peak, which is considered by
the men in the service the most dis¬
agreeable station in the Whole country*
In summer it is not so bad, when there
are numerous visitors up every day
from Colorado Springs and the weather
is comparatively pleasant. But from
the middle of October until about the
middle of April it is very different.
Then it is almost impossible to get
either up or down the mountain, and
the only communication with the out¬
side world is by wire. One man
takes charge of the station in summer
and two in winter. My duties were
to begin with the winter season. .1
reached tlie station tlie first day of
October, where I found my companion
for the winter awaiting me. llis name
was Harry Sands. He was a good-
looking, bright, jov’al fellow from
somewhere down in Maine. He was
fully six feet tall, with a physique
that seemed to bid defiance to fatigue
and exposure. If anyone had told me
then that he would be the first to suc¬
cumb to the rigors of that, terrible win¬
ter, I should have laughed at tlie idea,
for I was at that time by no menus
robust and unaccustomed to hardships
of any kind.
The station is located just a little
below the extreme top of (lie peak. It
is a low, one-storv log building about
twenty feet square. Around it on
three sides is stacked at that season,
almost as high as tlie cabin itself, the
supply of wood for the winter. To
keep tlie roof from being blown off,
rocks are laid upon it in different
place®, and two immense chains are
strung across and fastened to the
ground at either side. The interior is
divided into two rooms by a rough
board partition. In the larger one the
men eat, sleep, and do tlieir work.
The other is used as a store room.
: The weather did not begin to get
very cold that year until about Dec. 1.
It kept getting colder and colder until
one morning between Christmas and
New Years the thermometer registered
degrees below zero—a spirit ther¬
mometer, of course. It was so cold
that in spite of all we could do the
water would freeze an inch or more
in the cabin every night. So high was
the wind and blinding the snow storms
that often for a week at a time we
were unable to go outside to take ob¬
servations.
’ One morning the latter part of
January, Harry got up looking very
pale; He would not eat any break¬
fast, and before dinner time be was
back in bed again, complaining of a
terrible headache. By evening he
was in a raging fever, So delirious
did he soon become that at times it
was as much as I could do to hold him
in bed. I gave him such medicine as
I thought lie needed; and many an
hour I spent poring over tho book of
instruction accompanying tiie chest in
search of a proper remedy. But noth¬
ing I gave him seemed to do him any
good. One day early in February 1
went outside to remove some sticks of
wood the wind had blown against th3
door. 1 left Harry sleeping soundly,
and, I thought, more naturally than at
any time during his sickness, Re¬
turning a few minutes later I found
him sitting iu front of tlie telegraph
instrument with his band upon ihe
key. But the effort had probably been
too much for him; his head lay upou
his chest and lie was trembling all
over with weakness, I had hardly
gotten him back to bed when lie began
to sink rapidly, and in less lhau half
an hour he was dead,
THE ENTERPRISE.
As soon as I had recovered a littlo
from the shock I started to telegraph
the news to Colorado Springs. 1 gave
the customary signal upon the key,bu l
received no answer; 1 repeated it, still
no answer. I thought it very strange.
I knew the operator at Colorado
Springs was always in his office at
tiiat hour. Again and again I tried,
but with no better success. I made a
careful examination of the instrument,
the batteries, and all connected with
it, but could find nothing wrong.
Then canto the awful thought, “the
wire was down or broken somewhere
on ttic mountains.” It was not long
before I was compelled to admit that
such was the case. Burying my face
in my hands, I wept like a child. The
prospect certainly was a terrible one.
The probability was I should be cut
off from all communication with (he
world for two full months or more.
The next morning I wrapped up
Harry’s body in a couple of blankets
and buried it a few yards from the
cabin, among the rocks in a protected
part of the peak. My loneliness then
began in earnest. Such days and
nights as I put in I My only diversion
was reading and taking observations.
Every day at Ihe customary hour i
would try the telegraph instrument;
hoping that communication might pos¬
sibly have been re-established. Every¬
day the same disappointment. My
great fear was that I should lose my
reason.
One night, about throe weeks after
Harry’s death, I was wakened up by
what sounded lik’ the distant howling
of some wild animals. For a moment
or two Ihe sound was lost, Then it
returned louder than ever. The next
minule I remembered one of the men
in the service telling me, when he
lieavd 1 was going to Pike’s Peak, to
look out for the coyote®.
Coyotes are somewhat smaller than
the ordinary wolf, and are called by
many people barking wolves, owing to
the peculiar nature of their cries, I
had never heard them before. My
opinion was that the keen-nosed brutes
had scented Harry’s body and had
come to devour it. Instead of stop¬
ping at tlie place where Harry was
buried, they made a bee line for tlie
cabin. A series of most diabolical
veils announced their arrival. Then I
heard something thump, thump against
i lie cabin dooor. The door was a
strong oak one and I fc.lt confident
would resist any effort they could
make. However, to make it doubly
secure I pushed two great heavy Gov¬
ernment chests against it. Suddenly
their howls ceased, Breathlessly I
awaited developments. So long did
the silence continue that I began to
think that they had taken their depart-
lire. But I was mistaken. I soon
heard them upon the roof. Before 1
had time to recover from my astonish¬
ment at this change in their tactics, 1
heard one of the rocks that held down
the roof roll off to the ground. Ter-
ror stricken, I jumped to my feet, be¬
lieving nothing now would keep them
out. If they could roll oft' one of
those rocks, tiie boards of the roof
would he nothing to thorn.
I pick d up a gun that hung upon
the wall, an I raised it toward the
roof. Soon I saw one of tho boards
begin to move; but a little at first,
then more artd more until the star¬
light was plainly visible through the
crack. Then it was suddenly
wrenched from its place, and adaik
object appeared in the aperture. I
fired. Tiie same moment I was dashed
violently to the floor by something
heavy coming from the direction of
the roof. The next thing I remembered
was finding myself lying upon the
bed. To my surprise I saw the cabin
door was open and the sunlight stream-
ing in. I started to ge: up, but fell
back exhausted. Wondering what
could be the matter, I made another
attempt. As I did so my heart almost
stood still at the sight of a man stand¬
ing iu tlie doorway, Could I be
dreaming? I rubbed mv eyes tremb¬
lingly with my hands. The man, ap-.
parent,lv divining my thoughts, said:
“Don’t be afeared; it liain’t no
ghost, but it might have been if you’d
shot me that night, as you tried to.”
“Shoot you,” 1 gasped.
“Yes, shoot me,” repeated the man
“and if I hadn’t throw’d you to the
floor when I did you’d shot at me the
second time.”
“But the coyotes?” I ask d.
“Coyotes,” repeated the man in
amazement, “What do you mean?”
I told him my story. He laughed
heartily. •
“It wam’t no coyotes or nothin’ as
you heard. It war me and the other
fellows a-liolerin'. You see we busted
both our lamps,and we were a-holleriu’
for you to make some light so we
could see whe^ the cabin war. You
see you were clean out of your head
■with the fever and you ’inagiued aii
them things.” He then told me that I
CARNES VILLE, GA„ FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 21. 1890.
had been lying 111 with a fever ever
sinco that night, some three weeks in
all, and that I had been delirous t ho
whole time. Whilo lie was still talk¬
ing, two other men came into tho
cabin.
“That’s a nice way to be a treatin’
people as is sent to your rescue,”
spoke up one of them. “And after
bein’ nearly frozen to death on tho
way,” added the other one.
“.My rescueJ what do you mean?” I
inquired, not a little puzzled.
“Ain’t your name harry?” asked
the first speaker.
“No,” 1 said: “it isn't.”
They all looked at one another
strangely. Then tho same man said:
“Why, on tho 5th day of February a
telegram came from a man up here a
savin’ that t':e fellow as war a stayin'
with him had got lost, and he himself
war a dyin’.”
“February fifth,” I thought. “It
was the day Harry died.” In a
moment I saw through it all. Harry’s
business at the telegraph instrument
that morning was explained. Getting
awake while I was out taking away
the wood from the door, and not see¬
ing me, he had thought in his deliri¬
um I was lost; hence his message to
Colorado Springs. It is still a matter
of wonder to the people out there how
tlie rescuing party ever got up the
mountain. It was a feat never a'-
tempted, much less accomplished, at
that season of tlie year.
Some time afterward I met the man
who had told me about the coyotes.
He laughed heartily when I related
my experience, lie said what he had
meant by coyotes were the fleas that
fairly swarmed up there at certain
seasons of the year. They were so big
and bit so hard that the men in the
service nicknamed them “coyotes”.—
[New York Sun.
Siberia Importing I’igs.
Siberia has taken to raising pigs and
to improving the breed. The world
only knows Siberia as the place where
Russian and Polish exiles sutler tlie
horrors of a barbarous system and
where American aud English explorers
meet death from starvation and cold.
Its only product is supposed to be salt,
and nobody thinks of it as a country
having any capabilities cf progress.
Y'et Siberia is rich in great possibili¬
ties. Its southern portion contains
agricultural tracts of great fertility.
It has vast forests of fine timber and
great stores of undeveloped mineral
wealth. There are Russian communi-
ties away from the penal settlements
which are growing rich and prosper*
oils. In time the country is bound to
become progressive, The climate of
its southern provinces is mild and
healthy, and it is watered by great
rivers that afford spleudid facilities for
trade.
Tho importation of a number of im¬
proved English pigs is a sign of (lie
times. A large consignment of the
finest breed of Yorkshire pigs Jeft
London recently for Siberia. They
were selected from the famous herd of
Sanders Spencer of Holywell Manor,
whose piggeries are said to contain
some of the finest specimens in the
world. And they are to be folowed
soon by other lots. It is a positive re-
1 icf to get such news from Siberia.
A little more of it and people will not
feel a freezing sensation creeping over
them at the bare mention of the name.
Rigs are, after all, a sign of progress.
— [Chicago Rost.
He Had Enough.
I was sitting in the rear end of a
Chicago street car, and on tlie platform
were the conductor and a young man
of 20. I wasn’t looking at either par¬
ticularly when I saw the young man
slide his hand down into the conduc¬
tor’s sack-coat pocket, where he kept
his change. The conductor had his
head turned away, but of a sudden be
dropped his right hand, caught the
other man’s wrist, and with a move
which seemed the easiest thing in the
world he bent the fellow’s arm back
and broke it with a snap. As the
bone broke the victim’s clenched hand
opened and a lot of silver was scattered
on the platform.
“Got enough?” asked the conductor,
as he let go.
“Yes.”
“Then git.”
And the thief, who never even cried
out, but whose face was white with
the pain, dropped off the step aud was
lost to view. — [New York Sun.
Take Your Choice.
Two rival sausage dealers have their
shops adjoining. One of them has
painted upon his glass window over a
pyramid of sausages:
“At fivepencc apounp; to pay more
is to be robbed.” while tho other puts
his.sausages C into au obelisk aud paints
above it :
“At sixpence a pound; to pay less
is to be poisoned.”
A CHILIAN HOTEL.
4 Traveler’s Experience at the
Foot of the Andes.
A Swimming Bath Under Vines
Laden With Grapes.
Tin favorable impression of Chili
which 1 bad revived in descending
tho western slopes of the Cordillera
was augmented when 1 reached the
village, or perhaps 1 should say town,
of Santa liosu do, los Andes. This
was my first cxpbvicnco of a Chilian
lio'cl. .Vs we roilo up through clouds
of dust the exterior of tlie one-story
“adobe” buildings of tlie Hotel del
Comercio did not seem inviting. In¬
side, however, I found a series of
court-yards, or “patios,” avenues of
treliised vinos, aviaries, canalized
watercourses anil other pleasant fea¬
tures. 1 hired a room in the first
“patio,” with an outlook upon the
flowering shrubs, the fountain and
the wonderful imitation marble statues
which stooil around it. \Vho would
have expected to find specimens of
Greek sculpture—of the period of de¬
cadence, it is true—at the foot of tlie
Andes?
Dusty as I was, and having been
wholly deprived of the use of soap
and water during my six days’ jour¬
ney across the mountains, the old
prejudices of the dweller ill (owns as¬
serted themselves, and I asked the
landlady, in an off-hand and iialf-
apologetic tone if it would be possible
to have a bath. “Como no?” she re¬
plied, with the usual Chilian formula
of ready affirmation, and added:
“Would you like a swimming bath?”
“Is there a swimming bath in the
hotel?” 1 asked. “Como no? The
water is not crystalline, blit it is clean
and fresh, and brought from the
Aconcagua River by an ‘accquia.’"
“Bueno, vamos aver,” said 1, and we
went to see. And behold at the end
of the garden was a tank some fifteen
feet square, with water running
through it, and overhead, as a pro.
lection against the sun, vines laden
with pendent, bunches of grapes, form¬
ing, as it we e, a ceiling to the bath.
This was delightful, and T bathed
with joy. Now after a bath a man
needs refreshment of some kind.
“Como no?” was (he invariable reply;
and I was shown into a bar-room,
where I found a greater variety of
deleterious drinks than you would
meet with in similar establishments in
Europe or the United States, and yet
Los Ar.dres does not boast 3500 in¬
habitants. Thus fortified and rejuve¬
nated, I was prepared to dine, and I
srcceeded in dining very fairly, drank
good Chilian wine, had a pleasant talk
with my friend Don Uonot-io and other
gentlemen, and after dinner took a
walk on the plaza, where there was a
zealous but inferior orchestra playing
for the distraction of “all Los Andes,”
represented by a few officers, em¬
ployes, and shop-keepers, a dozen
ladies wearing Parisian hats that were
tlie fashion a year ago, and a few score
modest natives, the women wearing
black shawls drawn mantilla wise ove r
their heads, and the men draped in
(‘ponchos,” and sheltered from in¬
discreet. eyes by broad-brimmed white
straw hats with black string tied under
the chin.
The Biggest Apple Tree.
The largest apple tree in New Eng¬
land, and probably in Hie world, is in
the north western part of Cheshire,
Conn., standing in Mr. Delos Hotch¬
kiss's dooryard. Its age can be traced
by a family tradition to 140 years at
least, and it may be twenty or twenty-
five years older. It is at the present
time of symmetrical shape; the trunk
is nearly round, without a scar or
blemish on it; there are eight large
branches; five of them have been in
tlie habit of bearing one year and tlie
remaining three the next. Mr. Hotch¬
kiss has gathered in one year from the
five branches 85 bushels of fruit, and
liis predecessor had harvested a crop
of 110 bushes from tlie same five
branches. By careful measurement,
the circumference of the trunk one
foot above the ground, above all en¬
largements of the roots, is 13 feet
8 inches. The girth of the largest
single limb is 6 feet 8 inches. The
height of the tree lias been carefully
measured and found to be 60 feet,
and the spread of the branches as the
apples fall is 100 feet, or C rods. The
fruit is rather small, sweet and of
moderate excellence.—[Boston Jour-
nal.
Two of a Kind.
Mrs. WelJoil—That is a splendid
charger you arc riding, Mr. Poorbody.
Mr. Poorbody (who has spent his
week’s wages for an airing)—H’m—
er—yes, Something like the live, y
man of whom 1 hired him.
(Hove Making iu America.
A largo amount of capital is interet*
ted in the glove industry in tlie United
Suites. T.VO towns ill New York, and
substantial and prosperous towns they
are, too, are given over to this sort of
industry. Glovcrsvillo is a place of
15,000 and Johnstown of 9,000 poo¬
pic, and they are wholly dependent
upon these glovemukers for their sup¬
port. It does not seem that they are
disappointed in their hopes. Both are
in a very prosperous condition; the
workmen own tlieir own homes and
arc well paid, Glove sewers receive
from $9 to 812 a week, while tlie
•able-cuttcrs are paid from $ 1 to $3.50
a day.
Most of tlie American-made gloves
are of tho heavier kind, such as arc
used by teamsters!, farmers and tho in¬
dustrial community generally, But
our facilities for making the finer
grades of gloves are constantly in¬
creasing. There is no good reason, in
fact, why in a comparatively short
time ive cannot surpass France in sew¬
ing and finishing the gloves, because
tlie American worker is better paid
and will show more pride and cure in
his work. The chief obstacle at pres¬
ent in tho way of tlie American kid
glove lies in the dressing of the
leather.
This is a very important desidera¬
tum. When we can prepare our
leather with the samo skill that the
foreign gloveinakers arc able to do it
will be a great stride forward in this
industry in America. The best kid
gloves ma le in this country arc made
from imported kid leather. But the
improvements in this direction have
boon made so rapidly that in a year or
two tho gloveinakers of the United
States will step to a front place,—-
[Chicago Post.
8cc«nd*llattd Heulpttffe.
“There are illahy smttftliett icufptdva
ill the United .States and Italy Vflw
a disgrace to the profession @9 fat 1 a*
tlieir work is concerned,” said Sculp¬
tor Giovanni Turin! a few days ago
during a conversation in his studio on
Staten islands. “Not only is tlieir
work poor, but frequently tlieir names
are attached to work which has not
been done by them. There is a fla¬
grant example of this in Florence at tho
present time. A young woman lias a
studio in which she employs two men
who arc thorough : enlptors.
“Whenever she expects an American
visitor these men are sent out of the
shop, she smears her hands and apron
with clay, and when the expected one
arrives she is found busily at work
on a figure. Evidence of hard work
in the shape of unfinished busts, etc.,
are scattered about the place. If an
order is given her, her workmen are
recalled as soon as the visitor has de¬
parted, and they take up tlieir unfin¬
ished tasks. When the order she has
been giveu has been executed her
name appears on it, while, as a matter
of fact, she can’t handle u tool
properly.
“Nearly 90 per cent, of the model¬
ing done in this city is by Italians em¬
ployed by American firms. In tlie
past few years large numbers of
skilled artisans have come from Italy,
where they are not adequately paid, ’
and have secured good positions here.
Americans should patronize home
workmen more, now, instead of going
to Italy, where they are imposed upon
by people like tlie one of whom I have
spoken.”—[New York Star.
A True Incident.
A lady living in the vicinity of New
York had two pets, one a large cat
with a beautiful striped fur coat, gray
eyes, white face, and elegant whiskers;
Hie other a small canary bird, Ail¬
(agonistic by nature, yet being raised
together they became true friends.
The cat enjoyed tiie singing, and
watched the movements of Dick as lie
jumped from perch to perch with the
greatest interest. One warm day the
lady raised the window to admit tho
balu y air, when tlie cage had not been
properly fastened. Birdie sought its
freedom instantly, flew out and landed
on the gl ass plot. Quick as thought
the cat sprang for it, spreading her
large paws so as not to hurt it, and
hold it until tier mistress (who was
lame) came down a flight of stairs to
the relief of both. When Dick was
within his gilded cage safe and sound,
a happier “trio” could not be found
than mistress, cat aud bird.—[New
York Witness.
A Natural Couclasiou.
Young Brassey (to Banker Wall,
who doesn’t know him)—Say, govern-
or, let me have a hundred, will you?
Banker Wall—Why in Halifax
should I let you have money, you jack-
anapes?
Y. B.—Your daughter told me last
night that she would be a sister to inc.
Doesn’t that make me your son?—
[New York Herald.
CHILDREN'S COLUMN.
TIIK CAT'S KXPLAKATION.
You ask the reason, little friends.
Why eats don't wash tlieir faces
Before they eal as children do,
In all good Christian places.
Well years ago, a famous eat.
The pangs of hunger feeling, ,
Had chanced to catch a line young mouse,
Who said as lie ceased squealing,
“All genteel folks their faces wash
Before they think of eating!”
Ami wishing to bo thought well bwd
1 uss heed*d his entreating.
But when slio ralssil her paw to wash,
Chance for escape affording,
The sly young mouse then said goodby,
Without respect to wording.
A feline council met dial Jay,
Ami passej m solemn meeting
A law forbidding any cat
To wash till after eating.
— [Times-Democrat.
THU BING GAME.
All present must leave the room
with the exception of ono person who
then places a lic.ivy linger ring In
some fairly conspicuous place, On
the entrance of tho others the object is
to find the ring, but instead of ex¬
claiming when they see it. each person
that does so quiety sits down without
speaking. Tlie last person to find tho
ring, or tlie one who cannot do so, lias
to pay a forfeit or line, or whatever
may be previously settled, and to he
the next person to hide tlie ring.
Brass or gilt candlesticks, clocks,
brackets, etc., aro good [daces on
which to place the ring, and Hie same
game may tie likewise played with a
thimble. It is droll to see those who
have perceived tho ring quietly silling
down and Hie eagerness and despair
of those who fail to sec where it is.--
Brooklyn Citizen.
MR. STORK A\I» FAMlt.V.
The common stork is a bird of tlie
same family as tlie heron and tlie Hit-
torn. It is of large size, generally
three and a half feet in length, with
long legs adapted for wading in
marshy places, tlie three front toes be¬
ing webbed as far as tlie first joint.
The wings are large, the bill long,
straight, sharp and pointed. Both l»i 1*
and legs are of a bright rod color.
Tlie plumage of tlie stork is pure
white, except the wings, which are
partly black. The breast feathers are
soft and long, and the bird when at
rest may often be seen standing with
its bill half hidden among these
feathers, which [jives it a wise and
contemplative appearance.
Tlie common stork is a native of the
greater part of tho Old World, and is
pretty widely diffused everywhere ex¬
cept in Britain, where, unlike the her*
Ull and tlie bittern, it is very rare, and
always has been, even when the exten¬
sive fens of England were undrained.
The stork is a migratory bird,its range
extending as far as the northern parts
of Scandinavia. Its flight is strong
and powerful, which might easily be
guessed from the size of its wings.
It also flics very high.
Before these birds take tlieir de¬
parture from their summer haunts
they congregate in laige flocks and
make a great, noise by their curious
habit of clattering their mandibles,
and at such times they are popularly
supposed to be holding a consultation.
The stork has, however, no voice.
Tills bird frequents marshy places,
feeding oil eels and other fish, frogs
and young birds. Its nest is a simple
affair, consisting of a few sticks and
reeds loosely woven together and
placed on tho top of tall trees, ruined
buildings, church spires or common
houses.
In many [ arts of Europe it is con¬
sidered, especially in Holland, a very
fortunate thing when a pair of storks
choose to build on tiie housetop;
therefore many families in that coun¬
try place comfortable nesting-boxes
on tlieir roofs, hoping thus to attract
the birds. Tney are easily tamed, and
in many places are protected by law
on account of their good services in
destroying rats and mice, also devour¬
ing all manner of refuse from tho
streets of towns, where they stalk
about with perfect confidence, even in
the midst of throngs of people.
From ancient times storks have been
celebrated for the affection which they
display towards their young and for
the regard which they show to their
aged parents. Tlie flesh of the stork
is quite unfit for food. The stork of
America is almost identical with the
European bird.—[New York Herald.
An Expedient.
Beggar—Help me, good sir! I have
a large, family and can scarcely keep
Hie wolf from the door. We are in
need of food,
Crusty—H’tn- Have you got a gun?
“Yes, sir.”
••'Well, here’s 5 cents. Go and buy
some ammunition and the next time a
wolf comes around kill him aud eat
him.”—[Lawrence American.
NO. 40.
Time.
Father Tiino Is sweeping onward.
Scythe and hnur-glass in tunic!;
Nothing can obstruct his pathway
Nothing can tils force withstand.
Now he blurs the cheek of bcunry—.
Noiv he renders weak Hie strong—
And lie cuts down all before him,
As he swiftly glides u'ong.
And he seems a griui old tyrant,
Stem-browed, merciless and cold,
Shaking mildew from his pinions
On all things of human mo d.
Making every pleasure short-liyeJ.
Touching love with his alloy,
Blasting with tils sour visage
Every bud of human joy.
Yet, met.hinks, if thoughtless mortal
Would but read bis visage right.
They would come to the Conclusion
That he is not ruled by spite.
True, lie sides with Death at present,
But he loves him none the more,
And in the far-distant future
He will he Death's conqueror.
Then give Time the praise that's due lilm—
He his mission must fullill,
And lie'll use you very gently
If you do not treat him ill.
If you're free from dissipation.
And with vice no dealings have,
lie will give you health and comfort
From the cradle to the grave.
— [Francis 8. Smith in N. Y. Weekly.
<
HUMOROUS.
A Charity Bawl—Help a poor blind
man.
A Good Old-fashioned Muzzle
Loader—Hash.
We suppose u nose may be said to
ho broke when it hasn’t got a scent.
No matter how poor the astronomer
may be, ho is always looking up in the
world.
It is a hard thing l’or a man who
has to he round to keep square at the
same time.
A mosquito is tho most successful
of duns. Whenever he presents his
bill be collects immediately.
E* After all, the only way to profit by
ttio experience of others and avoid
their troubles is to die young.
Barber—Docs tho razor cut all
rigid? Victim—It seems so. That’s
tho third mole you’ve chipped off.
“How still and quiet the woods
are,” she remarked romantically.
“Yes.” lie replied, “but listen a min¬
ute and you’ll hear the dogwood bark.”
“1’clcr, tell us what is a fort.”
“I’lcase, sir, it’s a place where they
put men in.’t “Then what is a fort¬
ress ?” “A [dace where they put
women in.”
Morgan-—What brand of cigars does
Maxwell smoke? Dorgsn—Thoy call
them the “Riot Act.” Morgan—Why?
Dorgan—Because they never fail to
scatter a crowd.
A young lady sent to a newspaper a
poem, entitled “I Cannot Make Him
Smile.” The editor ventured to ex¬
press an opinion that she would have
succeeded bad she shown him tho
poem.
Do Jones—Miss Mary, I am think¬
ing of getting married and want to
ask you if you can help mo. Mis*
Mary—Help yon? Of course I will.
It will be a great pleasure to me to bo
assistcr to you.
The Hosiery Prod net Ioa,
1 was told recently by one* of the
prominent hosiery merchants that the
production of seamless hose iu this
country was about 100,000 pairs daily,
says the New York correspondent of
the Washington Star. This seems in¬
credible, and yet my informant is a
man of wide and accurate knowledge
of (lie trade. A daily production of
1,200,000 pairs of stockings would
mean 7,000,000 pairs each working
week or 350,000,000 pairs a year, an
average of five pairs to each man,
woman, child, bedridden invalid and
pickaninny in the land. And this cov¬
ers only one class of stockings, though
probably tlie most numerous one. Of
course, the bulk is of tiie cheapest
qnali.ies, those that sell in the trade
for 60 cents a dozen and thereabouts.
But how are they need, and whpre do
they go? It is almost as deep a prob¬
lem as the death and tlie future life of
Hie pin. These statistics throw a
strong light on the gigantic dimensions
of the clothing trades. We scarcely
put hosiery and underwear among the
important divisions of dry goods, and
yet (he transactions are beyond the
scope of an ordinary imagination.
Neither Touched Nor Moved.
Mrs. Norton inquired eagerly of
Lord Paumure after the queen had
pinned a medal on the breast of the
brave Sir Thomas Troubridge, the
Crimean hero:
“Was the queen touched 9 ”
“Bless your soul, no!” was the re.
ply. ‘ She had a brass railing before
her aud no one could touch her I”
Mrs. Norton explained:
“I mean, was she moved? ’
“Moved?” returned Lord lj*anmure,
with wilful stolidity, “she had no oc¬
casion to move.”—[Ladies’ Pictorial.