Newspaper Page Text
VOL. II.
.. A Summer Song.
0 h | lull me to sleep on this warm summer
day,
And sing me a gong of the clover,
ltaw it nods to the trees
And bows low to the breoze,
To the bee all its honey gives over.
Ohl cheerily sing, as the bird trills Us lav,
jjow the daisy true answers the lover,
When be whispers so low,
“Am I loved; yes or no?"
And throws down its own crown but to
prove her.
Ohl sing of the birds aad the brooks, what
they say;
And sing of them over and over—
As I lie’neath the tree —
And woo sleep for me,
As the bee, with his song, woos the clover.
—[Emil W. Robinson.
How He Found His Profes¬
sion.
Early biographical details need not
detain us long. We wisli merely to
relate one incident in his career—tho
crowning act of his life—and one
whose narration teaches many lessons,
the most obvious of which is that, try
as a man may to find a profession
suited to his supposed tastes and abili¬
ties, fate oftentimes takes the matter
out of his hands, and disregarding all
of ids preconceived ideas, thrusts him
into the very place for which lie was
designed.
Ilis boyhood was about equally di¬
vided between hooks and play; tho
books, however, were not as a rule
school-books, and his devotion to play
was also somewhat fitful. As a small
boy lie broke more toys and required
more new games in a month than
would suffice to amuse a whole con¬
valescent ward of a children’s hospi¬
tal ; and as lie grew older it became
evident that the very diversity of his
talents would never permit him to
give enough attention to any one sport
to become a leader therein.
At college ho distinguished himself
ill many ways. lie led his class dur¬
ing the Sophomore year, but through¬
out tho next term his devotion to the
debates of his literary society so di¬
vided his attention that he barely man¬
aged to secure a speaker’s place for
the Junior orations at Commencement.
Great expectations were aroused
among his fellow students as to his
graduating speech, which would fol¬
low a year later; but the next year be
went in for athletics, and with so
much success that he graduated near
the head of the base ball club, and not
far from tho foot of his class.
After graduating, lie lost no time in
considering his future profession, lie
began at once the study of medicine,
but the dry bones of anatomy afforded
him no mental or spiritual nutriment,
while the disagreeable details of physi¬
ology were repug naut to his finer
Ho then taught school, and success¬
fully; but after lie had whipped into
u state of dog-like submission, and
even affection, an overgrown but
underbred boy, who had passed upon
and discarded several of Ins predeces¬
sors as “N. G.” (thus the boy put it,)
and had also thrashed in tho presence
of an awe-stricken but admir'gg
school an irate trustee patron,who lmd
most'rudely differed with him on some
points of discipline—after these two
efforts his career was suddenly closed.
The rest of the board, not liking the
precedent, agreed in informing him
that while they admired Ills learning
find ability, they thought lie carried
his ideas of corporal punishment too
far, and then, with glaring inconsist-
tcncy, suggested that lie carry them
still farther—even into some oilier
school.
Mis mother was inclined about this
time to think that the world was using
her only son rather hardly, and ad¬
vanced money enough to set him up
in business in his native town. He
entered upon a mercantile career with
small capital but large ideas, His
advertisements were models of correct
English, and illustrated the advantages
of a collegiate training. Things went
on swimmingly for a while, but it
must be regretfully confessed (hat the
swimming was mostly down stream,
and after some months of successful
mismanagement his creditors formed
a “trust,” and lie was forced, with re¬
luctance, it must be admitted, cut of
trade.
So far nothing lias been said of hi3
personality, nor is there much need
for this. Such men are nearly always
lovable. It is the useful and not the
ornamental traits that are wanting in
their make up. They have enthusi¬
asm to plan, and, as far as it goes,
ability to execute, and only lack the
final quality of fixity of purpose or
will to make them continue to strive
after the first flush of their enthusiasm
has faded.
Not to follow his career too closely,
it may be said that at the age of 28
there was nothing to keep him outside
the operation of the vagrant law but
THE ENTERPRISE.
tho mother just mentioned, who pos¬
sessed a fairly comfortablo itioome,
and a still moro comfortablo weakness
for her boy, and a sign that read,
“Willoughby Mutable, Attorncy-at-
Law.”
lie was sitting in his office one lazy
spring day, enjoying a cigar and cogi¬
tating on things past and present,
when it came to him, as by a flash of
inspiration, that he had so far missed
his calling. It needed only everyday
sunlight for an outsider to discover
this truth, but to him it came as an
illumination. It was in literature,
and not in law, that he was destined
to make a name for himself. Not in
tlie broad fields of Literature (with a
capital L) did lie intend to roam; no,
ho would become famous as a writer
of short stones. True, he had never
written any, long or short, but he had
read them without number, and ho
saw how easily the trick was done.
Acting, as always, on a strong im¬
pulse,-he threw himself on a lounge,
and proceeded to map out in his mind
his initial effort. lie had proceeded
far enough to make it a toss up
whether ho was destined to add
another to literature, when—Fato
knocked.
It was not a client bringing him tho
caso that would make him famous,
but only a friend who came to take
him to the tennis-court for a game.
He went, and during tho game was
struck in the eyo by a “smashed” ball.
This is a more serious thing than it
may seem to onr readers, many of
whom have, perhaps, never been
struck in the eye by a “smashed” ten¬
nis ball, and especially so if one wears
glasses, as he happened to do. He
luckily saved the eye itself from shat¬
tered glass, but the lids suffered no
little. His physician commanded a
bandage over botli eyes for at least a
week, and their complete disuse for
perhaps
As soon as the pain had subsided
sufficiently to permit him to think at
all, his mind reverted to his unfinished
story, and he bewailed the hard fate
which, even for a time, so rudely
checked his new-born literary aspira¬
tions. Some such lament he made to
his friend—the fatal racket handler of
tho afternoon—who, half in scorn,
suggested that he employ a stenogra¬
pher. They laughed together at the
absurd suggestion, hut the idea stuck,
and ho determined, if possible, to
follow it with modifications.
Here enters our heroine. Iler name
was Margaret Western, a next-door
neighbor and a life-long friend. In¬
deed, on Willoughby’s part the feeling
was stronger than friendship. lie
had long loved her, and was only
waiting to find his career—that career
which always seemed to be just ahead
of him—to ask her to share it with
him. Meanwhile his pride kept him
silent, for Margaret was the only child
of a rich and proud old lawyer. If
she loved him, she had never shown
it; if she knew the state of his feel¬
ings she had never betrayed her know¬
ledge, but had always treated him
with the easy familiarity and frank
comradeship that aro born of long ac¬
quaintance, and that Her simple and
unaffected nature made easy.
She was straightforward, intelli¬
gent and independent, fond of social
pleasures in moderation, but caring
more for books and art. And, final¬
ly, she was a beautiful girl, in proof
of which no effort is made to describe
her appearance. She should be his
amanuensis. This was how the idea
had taken shape ill his mind.
The next day,-at the earliest season¬
able hour for calling, lie groped his
familiar way across the contiguous
lawn to Margaret’s home, and laid be¬
fore her his plans and aspirations.
She was too used to his vagaries to feel
more than a mild surprise, and even
managed to manifest a litt'e enthusi¬
asm. In the pleasure of her society
lie was not overready to begin his dic¬
tating; but Margaret resolutely pro¬
cured writing materials and urged him
to his work.
lie hesitated, 'and pleaded ids
wounded eye as an exen-e for delay.
To this siio would not listen; and to
end her banter he resolutely collected
his scattered wits and attempted a
pure piece of improvisation. lie told
the story slowly, for he was feeling
Ids way, and Margaret had to take
down his words, and hesitatingly, be¬
cause as lie progressed lie began to
that he was treading on dan¬
ground. It was slioit and trite
enough, and this is the outline:
A boy and girl grew up together a s
sweet-hearts—the boy poor, tlie giq
very rich. Not until he has returned
from college does lie realize the barrier
that her wealth puts between them.
Jle dares hot renew their intimacy un¬
til by bis efforts he has more nearly
equalized their posi'ions. Tho girl
recognizes the change, and with femi¬
nine intuition divines the caUoC, but
CAltNESVILLE, GA„ FRIDAY, JUNE 19.1891.
will not shock •ouvontionallty by be¬
traying tlmt her feelings also arc un¬
changed. His pride will not let him
speak; hor maidenly modesty keeps
her silent. This goes on for years,
until the young man, in despair, and
with nevor a word to her, leaves his
native place forever. She, iu utter
rage and loneliness, marries a man in
every way his inferior save in wealth.
And for botli hero and licroiuo a
future of enduring misery.
They worked on almost without
pause until the end, and when the last
word was writ tun he hesitated a mo¬
ment, and then said,
“Well?”
“It would be a sad story if it woro
true,” said she, “but I don’t like it.
I don’t think it is a strong story. I
suppose, Willoughby, you know—I
suppose you ought to know—men bet¬
ter than I do; but I don’t believe in
that kind of man you describe. Your
story lacks realism, as they call it. A
man as weak as the one you paint
could never exist. Why, ho nevor
could have escaped the dangers of
teething,” she added, scornfully “And
as for your girl, I know that such a
poor, spiritless, namby pamby thing
soil Id never hold the love of even the
poor little puppet yon have set up.”
Then, aghast at her impetuous candor,
“Of course I am speaking of tho
characters, not tho story itself.”
Her voice had a vouch of anger in
it, and he, surprised at her vehemence,
could only stammer out, “I don’t
sec—”
A quick movement from her checked
his speech, and he could hear the pen
thrown sharply on to the table, as she
said, in a tense voice that grow more
rapid as she went on: “You say they
loved each oilier, and that apart they
were doomed to misery; that they
were kept apart by his poverty, while
she had more than enough for both.
What was all of it to her without him?
Why should it keep them apart be¬
cause it happened to be hers and not
his? It should not do so; it Avould
not do so if the man were not a coward
and the woman a fool. Now, don’t
you see? Oh, Willoughby, dou’t you
see?”
Her voice had lost its tension as she
spoke theso last words, and was
dangerously near to tears.
He lifted the bandage from his
bruised eyes and looked at her. She
was leaning forward on her hands,
her Jips quivering, her face suffused
with blushes, and her bosom heaving
tumultuously. He droppetl at her
feet, clutching wildly for her hands,
and crying,
“Oh, Margaret, can it be true?”
One of her hands found his, while
tho other rested a moment lightly on
his head. “Put on your bandage,
Willoughby,” she said, leaning for¬
ward to adjust it, and passing her
hands softly over his temples. “I
have cured your worst blindness,
dear, but your eyes are still weak.”
And so it came about that at last he
found his profession, or rather his
profession was found for him.
Not as doctor or teacher is he des¬
tined to shine. Ilis business abilities
are not to be at the service of Board 8
of Trade or Chambers of Commerce,
and though his name is blazoned as
the junior member of the firm of Wes¬
tern & Marable, it is not in the courts
that his finer qualifies are to be shown
and his genuine talents to be ex¬
hibited.
Margaret will tell you the profession
that nature made him for. He is fill¬
ing, she thinks, the position for which
he was destined from tho beginning
of time. It is one rarer to find and
harder to fill than any in laboratory
or school-room or mart of business or
court of justice; and one more impor¬
tant to her than any trade, calling,
business, art, or profession—that of
a model husband.
So it will come to pass that though
he will never, as the world calls it,
“do any great things for himself,”
Margaret wil'l be happy, and their
little ones will love him, and his life
will not have been spent in vain:—
[Harper’s Weekly.
The Amende Honorable.
Aunty (to whom the game of base
ball has been explained)—I do not
quite understand it yet
Little Boy—Why, aunty, it’s as
plain as the nose on your face. .
Aunty (who has rather a large nose)
—You should not use such expres¬
sions, my dear.
Little Boy (hastily correcting him¬
self)—I mean, aunty, it’s as plain as
a pikestaff.—[Good News.
Not a Successful Elopement.
“Was your elopement a success?”
“Hardly.”
“What went wrong?”
“Her father telegraphed us not to
return, and all would be forgiven.”—
[Harper’s Bazar.
THE HUMAN EAR.
A Wonderful and Unapproach¬
able Little Apparatus.
A Mysterious Field -for Scien¬
tific Investigation.
“Tho human car,” said a sriontist
to a Washington Star reporter, “is an
organ the true inwardness of which
the physicians have never been
able to get at. They can examine the
interior of tho eye with.ease by throw¬
ing into its dark chamber a ray of
light reflected from a littll ipirror, and
of Into they have found jt possiblo
even to sco the gray matter of tho
brain by looking through tho little
canal by which the optic nerve enters.
Tho cavity behind the nose tlioy in¬
spect with the aid of a light placed fin¬
back in tho mouth. Tl^y have no
difficulty in seeing into the stomach
by an electric apparatus;, tho intes¬
tines likewise are readily enough in¬
vestigated and the bladder also. But
tho ear, as to its internal arrange¬
ments, is unapproachable. It is
oven impossible to dissect it
satisfactorily after dektli, for
the reason that tho parts col-
lapso at once when the vital spark
leaves the body, The drum in a liv-
ing person bars tho way to observa¬
tion, and, even though it bo pierced,
the winding passages beyond cannot
be seen through, On the other side
of the drum are the three little bones
—the mallet, the anvil and the stirrup
—which act upon each other as levers.
The drum acts as a sort of buffer, and
the mallet, immediately in contact
with it, conveys tlie sound waves
through (he anvil and tho stirrup to
the ‘cochlea,’ a spdral shell-shaped
chamber just behind and above tho ex¬
ternal opening of the ear. This shell
is composed of filaments of the audi¬
tory nerve, coiled spirally and each
ono erect and waving tremulously in
response to tho slightest waves of
sound. They carry the sound impres¬
sions directly to the brain, and so
delicato is their sensitiveness that
tlie hearer perceives not only the de¬
gree of loudness, but even tho finest
quality of a sound, tlie harmony
of tones, and tho distance from which
it comes. The moment that life be¬
comes extinct, however, tho spiral
shell of nerves collapses and the mar¬
vellous organ becomes a dead tiling,
unsatisfactory to the investigating
anatomist. If only it had been found
possible to examine the internal struc¬
ture of the living ear aural surgery
might perhaps amount to something
today. The science of treating tiic eye
was born when Helmholtz invented
the simple instrument called the oph¬
thalmoscope for inspecting its interior.
There are plenty of ear doctors, and
people pay big prices for being
treated by them for deafness, but did
you ever know of a case where th°
patient was really much benefited by
anything lie could do? I have known
dozens of deaf persons who have per¬
sistently sought relief at tlie hands of
aural specialists, but not ono of them
has been cured or materially helped,
simply because science has achieved
hardly anything iu that branch of
knowledge.”
The Somnambulist Had the Drop.
Louis Franz, the night clerk at the
Grand, relates the story of a narrow
escape from the dream-wrath of a
somnambulist.
“You see,” said Louis, “an old
mining man took a room ono night,
and some hours afterward, as 1 was
dozing behind the desk, I was startled
by hearing footsteps shufiling down
the stairs. I looked up and saw my
friend, the mining man, with a six-
shooter in his right hand. He walked
right over toward me, his eyes staring
blindly and almost starting out of
their sockets, it is hard to tell what
thought flashed through my brain as
he approached. What could he mean
and I was alone with a maniac? He
walked up to my desk and took dc-
liberate aim at me. I expected him to
follow the action with a couple of
shots, and so I dodged down behind
my desk and rang for the police.
•‘ 'Fork over that $300, young feb
low!’he cried. ‘You don’t run in any
cold deck on me and get away with the
spoils.’
“Of course, I knew tho situation
Immediately. He had been ‘done up’
in a game by some card sharps, and
had been dreaming the matter over
until the operations of his mind led
him in his sleep to seek redress of his
grievances. I knew it would take
some moments for the police to ar¬
rive, and time was very precious just
then.
“ ‘I’ll pay you the money!’ I yelled.
•Put down that pistol, and you can
have your three hundred.”
“The miner lowered his weapon.
•Come this way,’ saiil I, and he fol¬
lowed mo into tho bar-room. Behind
the bar was a big dish of water. I
fumbled a moment with tho money
drawer to deceive the murderous-look¬
ing sleeper, and then, quick as a flash,
1 threw tho basinful of water into his
face.
“lie veiled, dropped his pistol to tho
floor, rubbed his eyes a second, and
then, fully awakened, began to look
nround. He begged a thousand
pardons when 1 explained matters to
him, and told me how he had gone to
bed wishing that ho could get hold of
the mau who had played an unfair
gamo with him in a hotel east of tho
mountains.”— [Seattle Telegraph.
Transportation from I’auama in MIL
Wo paid onr money and went on
board tho vessel, which was anchored
three miles from shore. \Y r o found a
promiscuous crowd from every na¬
tion under heaven, tho predominating
type titling that of tho American rough
The deck was so densely packed with
men from stem to stern that wo could
scarcely move. Many were prostrate
with sickness,or supported by friends,
or lying in hammocks swung along
the side rigging. All day long this
crowd of men wore seething,swaying,
quarreling and cursing. No food was
provided and hunger and thirst gavo
an edge to the had passions of tho
mob. The captain, a United States
naval officer, bail not assumed com¬
mand because ho was shut off from
his men by the chaotic crowd. At
length, towards evening, he stood on
the quarter-deck, and shouted abovo
the angry mutters and jargon of tho
crowd that tho deck must ho cleared
for his men so that they could
raise the anchor. I had conferred
with a few of tho moro respectable-
looking passengers, and wc had coil-
eluded that there were moro men on
hoard than our contract stipulated for,
so we replied to tho captain tlmt the
n-ichor could not be raised until wc
had had a count. Tho effort to get
the men in order and to set them in
motion so that they could pass around
in line required two or three hours,
but was at last accomplished, and the
result showed 440 persons on hoard
besides the sailors. This attempt of
the consignee to increase his enormous
profits dishonestly at the risk and dis¬
comfort of the passengers excited a
torrent of indignation. Inflammatory
speeches were made, and a committee
was appointed to visit the consignee
and adjust the matter. About one
hundred men left for the shore in
boats that the natives had in waiting
about the vessel, and tboso who re¬
mained agreed to keep tho ship at an¬
chor until they should return.—[Cen¬
tury.
A Congo Fetish-Man.
The fetish-man under any name is
the authority oil all matters connected
with tho relation of man to the un¬
seen. Ho is tlie cxorciscr of spirits,
the maker of charms and tho prescribe!
and regulator of all ceremonial rites,
lie can discover who “alo the heart”
of the chief who died but yesterday,
who it was who caused tho canoe to
upset, and give three lives to the croc¬
odile and tho dark waters of tlie
Congo, or even who blighted the palm
trees of a village and dried up thoir
sap, causing the supply of malafu, or
pal m wine, to cease, or drove away
the rain from a district and withered its
fields of nguba (ground nuts). All this
is within the ken of tlie Nganga Nkisi,
and he is appealed to on all these occa¬
sions to discover tho culprit, by bis
insight into the spirit world, and hand
him or her over to the just chastise¬
ment of an outraged community.
This is the only substitute for religion
that the African savage possesses; its
tenets are vague and unformulated,
for with every tribe and every district
belief varies and rites and ceremonies
arc as diverse as the fancies of the
fetish-men who prescribe them.—
[Century.
A Thoughtful Spouse.
Mr. Suburb (after a long weary
tramp to his nearest neighbor)—Good
evening, Mrs. Lawnmower. I find
my wife lias not returned from hor
shopping trip to tho city, and the
bouse is locked up. She left the key
here, I presume?
Mrs. Lawnmower—No-o. She said
it was a pity you should have to take
such a long walk for the key every
time she was out, so she put it under
the front door mat.—[New York
Weekly.
Where the Scare Was.
A little tliree-year-old boy was car-
rying his father’s lantern and dropped
it. His father, seeing his frightened
look, said to him: “Did it scare you,
Howard?” “Yes,” said he, “my
knees are scared.” Did any older peo.
!e ever feel that way?—[Springfield
ornestead.
Will LDllES’S COLVMX«
n*R l.ITTI.E MAW.
Look tu his face, look lu Ids eyes,
Rougish and blue, and terribly wise —
KotiglsU mid blue, and quickset to sen
When mother comes in ns tired as oau be.
Quickest to tied bur the nicest old chair;
Quickest to get at the top of the stair,
Quickest to see that a kiss on her cheek
Woukl help her far more than to chatter, to
speak.
Look in bis face, and guess if you can,
Why mother is proud of her little man.
The mother Is proud— I will tel! you this j
You can sec it yourself in her tender kiss.
Hut why? Well, of all her little dears
There is scarcely one who eTcr hears
The moment she speaks, and jumps to set
What her want or wish might be—
Scarcely one. They alt forget,
Or are not in the notion to gf qulto yet;
Tint this she knows, if her boy is near,
There Is somebody certain to want to hear.
Mother is proud, and she bolds him fast.
And kisses him first and kisses him last:
And lie holds he hand and looks ill her face,
And bunts for her spool which is out of place,
And proves that he loves her whenever he
can,
That is why she is proud of her little man.
— [Brooklyn Citizen.
A LEARNED I.ITTLF. MAID.
The story is running the rounds of
a little maid who recently graduated
from tho infant class in tho Sunday
school, to parts examination being
her ability to say tho ten commaud-
inandinonts. A while afterwards a
friond of tho family happened in anil
asked tho young lady if she could say
tho ten commandments. “No, I can’t
say tho ten commandments,” said Miss
Rose with a toss of her head. “l’vo
nothing to do with tho ten command¬
ments now; I’m out of tho infant
class. — [Jewish Messenger.
a bee’s funeral.
Two boos were observed to issue
from a hive, bearing betweon them
the body of a comrade, with which
tlioy flow for a distance of ten yards.
Then, with great care, they put it
down, and selected a convenient liolo
at the side of the gravel walk, to which
they tenderly committed tho body,
head downwards, and then afterward
pushed against it two lit tie stonos,
doubtless in memoriam. Their task
being ended, they paused about a
minute, perhaps to drop over the grave
of their friend a sympathizing tear;
and than they flow away.—[Doll’s
Dressmaker.
a laugaable mistake.
Littlo Lon’s primary geography was
made up of questions and answers.
in the lesson of Brazil they ran
thus: “Foe what aro tho wild eattlo
on the plains caught?” Ans.—“For
thoir tallow, hides and horns.” “For
what are tho ladies of Brazil noted?”
Ans.—“For their beauty.”
Lou learned readily by rote, and
recited correctly when the questions
were put in (lie order of the book.
Sometimes the teacher “skipped
about” and Lou made funny mis¬
takes.
“What aro the ladies of Brazil noted
for?” askod the teacher.
“For their tallow, hides and horns,"
answered Lou. —[Youth’s Companion.
TOO KAULY FOB THE WORLD’S FAIR.
A pleasant littlo story is told in
Golden Days of a small rosy cheeked
girl who, picking up her doll and her
doll’s trunk, trudged a mile or more
over frosty roads until she reached a
railroad station. There she boarded
tho first train for Chicago, and con¬
tentedly settled herself and her doll in
a vacant scat. By and by (lie con¬
ductor came along and looked down
at the little woman, who was pointing
out flying trees and other points of
interest to her companion, tho doll.
“Where aro you going, little one?”
asked tho big man with buttons.
The round blue eyes were turned up.
ward in astonishment, and the reply
came, unhesitatingly:
“Why, I’m going to tho World’s
Fair, of course.”
The conductor coughed.
“Aren’t you rather early?” he
aslceJ; “I don’t believe the doors are
open yet.”
“Dear me,” said the child, in alarm,
“what shall I do?”
“Perhaps you had better go home
and ask your mother,” suggested the
conductor.
And she did. She was loaded with
pretty things by interested fellow pas¬
sengers, and returned to her mother
in safety. Wo may reasonably expect
that she will be among the first visit-
Or* when the World’s Fair opens its
doors to the world.
The Chinese Imperial Canal.
Tlie Imperial (or “Great”) Canal
of China is hardly rivaled, so far as
extent is concerned, even at tho pres¬
ent day. This wonderful engineer¬
ing exploit is said to have occupied
120 years in its construction and given
employment to 30,000 men. It is about
1000 miles in length.
NO. 24.
Nearly.
Two stars within a summer sky
Grew nearer hh the summer spee
So bold the one, the other shy;
Two proper little stars to wed.
I watched to see their bridal kiss;
But autumn brought mo grief and wonder,
For on tho very eve of bliss
My stars began to wove asunder.
Nearly! nearly! Yet to wander
Lonely o’er creation's sen;
Stars that sadly twinkle yonder,
Foolish little stars are ye.
Nearly! ah, nearly.
Two longing hearts with love were gay,
As coining joys they counted o'er:
Life’s path to them a flowery way,
tYhere sunrise lingered evermore.
But then there came a hasty word,
They should have kissed from memory’s
pages;
They love, so says a little bird,
As broken hearts have loved for ages!
Nearly! nearly! Vet to sever;
Can your paths not verge again?
Has the day gone down forever?
Have the blossoms bloomed In vain?
Nearly! all, nearly !
— [Thomas Frost
HUMOROUS.
Tho Blarney stone is merely a sham
rock after all.
When a horse roars it is very much
alive, oven if it doos seem to bo on its
last legs.
The distant relative is tho ono who
is afraid that you uro going to borrow
from 1U in.
She—Do you know tho hour of the
day when Adam was created? Ho—
No; except that it was before Eve.
Maud—George told mo last night
that I was his little duck. Ethel—He
probably discovered that you were no
chicken.
Mrs. Gabb—I hear Mrs. Dadd is go¬
ing to move. Mrs. Dadd—Yes, she
moves every six mouths since she got
hor new furniture.
“I’m on to you,” said tho drop of
ink to the blotter, in a tone of con¬
siderable asperity. “Dry up,” said
the blotter savagely.
Tho best tiling about tho good old
times is that they have not got a return
ticket. The past can’t come back if it
want’s to ever so bad.
“I am surprised at Charley’s squan¬
dering so much money oil a phono¬
graph.” “Well, I'm not. lie always
did liko to hear himself talk.”
Miss Lovell (just engaged)—Oh,
George 1 You are good enough to cat.
Mr. Fearing—Sh! Don’t speak so
loud 1 Bruno’s just outside the win¬
dow.
Tho tongue is a tell-tale member.
Doctors look at it to see if the patient's
stomach is out of order, and the gen¬
eral public frequently learns from it
that tlie owner’s mind is out of order.
if everyone knew what every ono
thought about every one else tlie only
real friend a man would liavo would
be the little worthless yellow dog that
never dies and refuses to bo given
away.
Drcmn Snpcrstitlons of Indians.
In Mr. Thurnitn’s cJuborato work
on the Indians of Guiana he tells us
that the dreams which corno to the In¬
dian aro to him as real as any of the
events of his waking lifo. To him
dream acts and waking acts differ only
in one respect—namely, that tho for¬
mer aro done only by the spirits, the
latter being done by both tho spirits
and tho body. Seeing other men
asleep, and afterwards bearing them
tell the things which they supposed
themselves to have done when asleep,
the Indian lias no trouble in reconcil¬
ing that which he hears with tho fact
that the bodies of tho sleepers were in
his sight anil motionless throughout
the time of tlie supposed action, be¬
cause ho never questions that tho
spirit, leaving (he body, plays its part
in all dream adventures. In some
respects this odd superstition compare
favorably with the beliefs of tho
Mediaeval Germans, who were of the
opinion that the soul could leave tho
body whilo the latter was asleep, and
then again return without tlie sleeper's
knowledge. Jn undergoing these
transformations the soul usually took
on tho form of a small red mouse.—
[St. Louis Republic.
A Deaf Mute Cow.
Alexander Skerkoff, tlie Russian
veterinary surgeon, reports the case of
a deaf-mute cow. She is 12 years old,
of Algava breed; belongs to a Russian
nobleman, and has never shown signs
of bearing or been known to bellow.
Seeing that other cows bellow she
tries to imitate them, stretching out
her head and opening her mouth; not,
however, producing the least sem¬
blance to* a sound. Two of her off¬
spring liavo been curiously mal¬
formed. Ono Lad its tail directly be¬
tween its eyes; it lived but a week.
Die other is a full-grown cow of 5
years, with her udder iu her flank,
about eight inches from her backbone,
— [St, Louis Renublic,