Newspaper Page Text
OFFICIAL ORGAN
— OOP’—
FRANKLIN county.
VOL. 11. NO. 43.
•fho Memory-Bridges.
o., |Iy busily, L> al "l tl'°,
s bridge-buiMers, coine and
gee them, tho
go l and bonny-cyes, mothers aud
erej-bcards
midges, a-buililiag , bridges. , ,,
All of them busy
Ili-h be they ? Low be they ?
Who can tell?
Each keeps his secret, and keeps it well.
glMdilv, steadily; see them build.
Not one is idle of all the guild.
This one is planning and placing and plying;
That one is trusting and tracing and trying.
Strong he they? Weak be they?
Who is there
Knows if the bridges will break or bear?
Cleverly, cleverly, day by day
Toil the bridge-makers sans stone or clay,
Fashionint after tlicir own designing,
Some for rejoicing aud some for repining.
Ugly or beautiful?
Who can know
What is tho pattern the bridges show ?
Ceaselessly, ceaselessly, year by year
Grow the abutment, the arch anil the pier,
Grow on the builders’ brows wrinkles and
riilges,
Caused by the rearing of memory-bridges.
Beep be they ? Slight be they ?
All may sec
What sort of furrows those furrows bo.
Finally, finally, each must tread
Over the Memory-bridge he's made,
Over the deeds that are long past doing,
Over the faults that aro left for rueiug.
Light is it? Bard is it?
They may ken
Who'vc crossed the bridges from Now to
Then.
►[Julie M. Lippmann, in Youth’s Compan-
ion.
TO THE END.
“Take my advice, and don’t marry
him,” said Miss Fane.
Dora AVilscy looked wistfully up
into tlie fnco of tho richly-dressed
young lady, who had been her Sun¬
day-school teacher, and represented, to
her, all widom and gracious ness.
“But, Miss Fane—”
' “Yes, 1 know,” said Miss Fane,
with a nod of her plumed Lat. “Jlo
is handsome and winning, and all
that, but—lie drinks.”
“Ob, not that, Miss Fane!” Dora
put up both hands, as if to ward oil
6omo invisible blow aimed at her
heart.,
“Child, I don’t mean that ho is an
absolute drunkard,” said Miss Fane.
“Notas yet. But lie is coming to it
as fast as lie can, and, believe me,
dear,” laying her white-ringed hand
on Dora’s shoulder, “you were better
dead than married to such a man as
that!”
So Miss Fane went away, and Dora
sat on tlie sunny door-step pondering,
while the rich autumn dahlias swung
their turbans of bloom overhead, and
the September sunshine crept with
golden feet over tlio close-cut green
grass of the door ya d—pondering,
with bauds clasped and fair head
bowed down, until a shadow fell
across Die pathway.
“George!” she looked up with a
start.
“Yes, Dolly, it’s George, aud he’d
give a good deal out of ills last week’s
wajf’es to know what you are thinking
of so intently.”
“I was thinking about you,
George.”
“Come,I’m flattered,” sitting down
beside her, and possessing himself of
her reluctant hand, “Now, be h on-
est, Dora, and lefl mo what it was.”
“Don’t smile, George,” said she.
“Indeed, indeed, it’s a more serious
matter than you imagine. I was think¬
ing, George, that I never can marry
you, until—uiBil you leave off drink¬
ing.”
She bad spoken with an effort, and
her words produced their effect.
George Dacro dropped Die hand he
had been holding so earclcss-
ly in hi», while his brow darkened
ominously.
“Dora," said lv, “yon arc treating
me like a child. You want mo to fet¬
ter myself with a temperance pledge
and make a recinse of myself, all be¬
cause you cannot trust tne. Why,
girl, there’s not a man in the town,
from Squire Darrell downward, but
that takes his social glass when lie
can get the clianco.”
“My husband must be an exception
to the rest, then,” Dora said firmly.
“My child, this is all nonsense,"
said Dacre, making as if lie would
take her hand again.
“No it is not, George.”
“Do you really mean it?”
“Yes.”
lie sat a moment looking at her;
then rose up with a shrug of tlic
shoulders.
“Well, said he. with seeming indif¬
ference, “a woman is of course a:
liberty to make up her own mind as
She chooses—and so is the man.”
Dora looked piteously at him, while
her heart seemed to stop beating within
her bosom. Would he really persist
in declining to give the pledge which
would set all doubt at rest?
“Good bye, Dora," he said,defiantly.
“George, George!” she walled,
{twon’t you promise me?”
THE ENTERPRISE.
“No!” lie utlorod, with n lialf-
stifled oath upon bis lips. •'I'll giro
no promise that will tio mo up iiko a
baby. I’ll surrender my freedom to
no one."
And ho passed down tho sunshiny
gardon path nnd was gone; while
Dora burst out into a tempest of leave
and sobs, her flushed face buried in
her hands.
“Have I done well?” site asked her¬
self. “Oh, have 1 done rigid in put
ting ids lovo away from me?”
And conscience answered, “Yes."
Cleorgo Dacro wont down to tho
village, his hands buried down deep
in his trousers pockets, his hat drawn
over his eyes.
“I won’t ho treated like a child,” ho
kept muttering between his teeth.
And by the way of proving his inde¬
pendence, ho spent the evening in tho
bar of the little red-curtained village
tavern, and did not refuso to taste the
liquor when it came around.
“As if I didn’t know as well as any
one when I’ve had as much as is good
for me!" said ho to himself.
And so matters went on for a week.
The boon companions of the village
congratulated Dacre upon his spirit;
the sensible ones eyed him askance ;
and poor Dora Wi’soy never said a
word, but went about with her head
drooping like a broken flower. But
site saw George Dacre once, lounging
down tho street with tin excited face
and oud laughter; and after that slio
ceased to question herself as to
whether or not site iiad done right.
There was to be a political meeting
at Ubsden, the next village, and all
the little world of Woodside were
going. Dora Wilsey had come down
to the depot to see off a party of
friends, and just as the train moved
slowly on a man hurried out of the
station and made for the step of the
third car.
“Hold on, Dacre!” shouted the sta¬
tion-master. “You’re too late!”
“I’m not too late!’’
The official threw liimsclf before
George Dacre.
“For God’s sake,” said he, “don’t
try to get on. You’re drunk!”
“I’m not drunk.”
With a savage effort of strength,
Dacre flung off the restraining grasp
of the station-master, and made a blind
grasp at the platform rail of the last
car, which was gliding by. Ho missed
it and fell directly under tlic wheel.
The y took him out, a blind and
bleeding mass of insensible humanity,
while poor Dora Wilsey pressed for¬
ward with ashy pale cheek.
“Is lie—dead?” she gasped.
“Of course lie’s dead,” said tho sta¬
tion-master, kneeling on one knee to
feel his heart “And no one can say
I didn’t warn him. But a drunken
man won't never listen to reason.”
Victoria Fane had been spending
the winter in New York, and as soon
as tlie spring violets spangled all the
fields with blue, she came hack to
Woodside. Aud Die first item of vil¬
lage news which she heard was that
Theodora Wilsey was married.
“Married!” cried Miss Fane. “No
to George Dacre ? ’
“Yes, to George Dacre.”
“Oil, tlie silly little fool!” said Miss
Fane, almost angrily. And after all
the warnings I gave her. However, I
.shall go and see her in any event. She
was always my favorite of all the girls
in my Sunday-school class, and if she
really does need aid and counsel, t
should be the last one to refuse to ex¬
tend it to her.”
So Miss Fane put on her tilings and
wont to the cottage beyond tlie mill
where they told her George Dacre
lived.
Dora met her at tho door with a
radiant face.
“Oil, Miss Fane, I am so happy!”
cried she, her face dimpled with
changing smiles and blushes.
“Happy I” said Miss Fane, dryly.
“Well, tastes differ.”
But as she came into tlio neatly
garnished little room she saw that one
of George Dacre’s limbs was replaced
by a wooden slump, and that the liair
brushed down low over his forehead
did not entirely conceal a deep scar
which traversed it crosswise.
“Gracious Heavens!'’ cried she,
stopping involuntarily. “What’s is Die
matter?’’ And Dora burst into tears
at the question.
“Don't mind her, Miss Fane,” said
Dacre, cheerily. “I’ve been dead and
now I’m alive, like tlie prodigal son
of Scripture. And I’m afraid I’ve
been like him in more particulars than
one.”
“But you haven’t told me what was
the matter?” said Miss Fane.
<*It-—it was a railroad accident,”
said Dora faintly.
“Little one, you don’t speak the
whole truth! ' said Dacre, smiling.
“Miss Fane, I was half mad with
drink, and J believe I threw wy»e!f
Equal Rights to all, Special Privileges to None.
CARNESVILLE, FRANKLIN CO.. GA.. FRIDAY, OCTOI1KR 30.1891.
voluntarily under the car wheels. I
deserved lo be killed, b.tt God is often
more merciful lo us than is warranted
by our deserts. And when I eatna
out of it all a maimed cripple, Dora,
here, was my angel of blessing and
married mo in sp te of it all. And
now she is supporting us both with
her dressmaking until I get somo
bookkeeping or something of tho sort
to do. Miss Fane,” frowning to
keep the tears back from his eyes, “do
you think 1 deserve all this?’’
“1 believe you will for the future,”
said Miss Fane, moved in spile of
herself.
“It shall be through no fault of
mine if 1 don’t,” said Dacro.
And lie looked as though he meant
it. — [Now York News.
A True Insect-Voice.
Several oilier species of insects have
apparatus for producing sounds sim¬
ilar lo that of tho grasshopper, or
modifications of it. Of a ditlorcut
tvpo is that with which the cicadas aro
endowed—Die only creature of tliis
class which have vocal apparatus anal¬
ogous to those of Die higher animals.
Only Die males of this family are
singers, for which tlie Greek poets
called llicm happy bccauso tlicir fe¬
males were dumb. With Die ancients,
a cicada silting on a harp was tlio
symbol of music. A pretty fablo
tells of tlie contest of two cithara-play-
ors, in which the curious event hap¬
pened that when one of the contest¬
ant broke a string, a singing cicada
sprang on his harp and helped him
out so that he gained the prize. The
Greeks, who shut the insects in cages
so as to be sung to by them in tlicir
sleep, were at odds concerning
tlie nature of tlieir singing ap-
paralus; and the controversy among
naturalists on (lie subject lasted till
very recently. The zoologist 11. Lnn-
dois, who investigated tlie dfiicult sub¬
ject of animal sounds witli ceaseless
industry and great skill, was able to
give a satisfactory solution of the
question. According to his research,
the case is one in which the sound is
really made by air circulating through
passages in Die interior of tlio body.
Every insect’s body is penetrated by a
system of breathing tubes or traclise,
which open at places on Die surface.
The openings are called stigmata. This
system of breathing-tubes, through
which the air is inspired and expired,
takes the place of the lung of tho high¬
er animals. Landoia discovered them
in very obscure parts of the cicada,
and found that they f >rm a kind of
windpipe representing tlie actual tone-
factory of tlic animals.— [Popular
Science Monthly.
How the Treasury Is Guarded.
The Treasury watcli is composed of
seventy veteran soldiers, wiio are cut
into three squads dividing every
twenty-four hours into three equal
watches of eight hours each. The
men wear no uniforms, and would
not impress tlic casual visitor to the
Treasury during tlie hoars when the
public is admitted. The guards go
unarmed during the day, bat at night
carry a large forty-two calibre six-
chambered revolver, which is too large
to bu concealed in a pocket and must
be carried in tlie hands all the time.
Every one who passes Iho Treasury at
night may see pacing to and fro in the
lofty area between Die granite pillars
and Die wall of tlic building solitary
figures. A person cannot approach
within a hundred feet of Die buildidg
witliout seeing a guard. Such a
watchman, silent and marshal in bear¬
ing, guards each of the four entrances
to tlio Treasury. The guards who
traverse the corridors at stated in¬
tervals touch electric buttons to an-
nounce their presence in certain parts
of the building. All this system of
interior watchfulness was tlic work of
Secretary Folger, who during liisterm
in office lived in constant dread of an
attack on the Treasury. So far ns
human watchfulness can bo relied on
the Treasury is guarded, but there
must be new safes and the Gommis-
sion will soon report to Treasurer
Nebcker its recommendations for
building new vaults and strengthen¬
ing Die old ones.—[Indianapolis Jour¬
nal.
The Carp Has a Queer Throat.
The carp carries his leetli back in
his throat, so that when ho has a sore
throat he does not know whether to
send for tlie doctor or the dentist. He
resembles the cow in tho respect that
lie chew’s his cud. It is a pity that
some of the other virtues of tlie cow
do not also perlain to the carp, for he
would be a much more useful fish if
this were so, al. hough it would not be
possible for him (o give milk, as does j
our good bovine friend, owing to the ;
certain destruction of every drop of it j
by the river in which he liver, and /
which, as many of the readers :,c this j
paper Cultivator, know, is fu|l Qf water.---[Bos* j
m
FEAST OF LANTERNS.
A Curious Annual Reception of
Ghosts Held in Japan.
The Living Feasting With the
Spirits of the Dead.
Forhaps (lie most interesting of
Japanese festivals is Unit called flic
“Feast of Lanterns,” which is cele¬
brated about September 1 of each
year. It is actually nothing more nor
loss than a formal reception given to
nil (ho spirits of tho dead, and for this
reason thousands of people (lock into
Nagasaki from the neighboring coun¬
try to tnkc part in tho ccromony,
dressed in their best attire.
Upon the first day of (lie feast tlio
ghosts of Die departed arc supposed to
leavo the spirit land in order to revisit
their homes upon earth. On this day
the head of each family, in his best
apparol, sits in the reception room of
bis house, tlic entrances to which aro
all thrown open. At frequent inter¬
vals lie bows ceremoniously and utters
words of welcome, in order that the
spirits as they enter may not feel
themselves to bo neglected. This pro¬
cedure is carried on far inlo Die night,
especially by such conscientious Bud¬
dhists as have numerous spirits to re¬
ceive.
On tlio second day all tho spirits are
supposed (o have arrived, aud the
household temple (a small cabinet
apartment which is to be found in the
house of every believer in Buddha,
set apart for tlio use of the dead) is
gaily decorated with flowers and filled
with choice stores of fruit, vice, ton,
wine and other delicacies. Tlio fam¬
ily of Die house sitting in the room to
which tlio spirit-chamber is attached,
hold high festival, eating nnd
drinking and enjoying themselves
after the Japanese fashion, This
feasting of the living with the spirits
of tlie dead continues
throughout Die whole of tlio
second day ami tlic greater part of tlio
third, but the night of tho third day is
tlic time appointed when tlio ghosts
must return to their places
in Die' spirit land, and as Die
evening draws on, the people, young
and old, in vast numbers betake them¬
selves to the burial places and deck
out the graves with bright paper ban¬
ners and many-colored lanterns,which
are lighted as tlic sun goes down aud
tlie darkness comeson. This decoration
and illumination is made as beautiful
and brilliant as possible, so that tho
last view of the earth taken by depart¬
ing spirits may be pleasing and happy.
Toward midnight, as Die time for
departure draws nigh, tlio male por¬
tion of the people form themselves
into processions, every individual of
which bears aloft a lighted lantern
suspended to a bamboo pole about ten
feet long, and, like so many torrents
of fire pouring down the hillside, pro¬
ceed to carry to tho sea the boats in
which tlic spirits are to return to Die
land whence they came.
These boats are made of plaited
straw, and are more or less elaborate
models of Die ordinary native craft.
Each is decorated with flags and
streamers, and has a stock of provi¬
sions and money on board—tho money
for tlio ferriage of Die Styx. The
size of these straw boats varies from
2 to 10 or 80 feet in length, and are all
provided with one or more lanterns
to enable Die spirit crew to steer their
course.
The processions having readied the
shores of the bay and the lanterns on
board the straw boats having been
trimmed and lighted, Die fragile barks
aro launched upon Dio waters and sail
away into Die western sen, carrying
Die spirits to that far-off land where
the sun and stars go to rest and where
is situate that glorious Nirvana where
the spirits of all good Buddhists pass
the time in lmppy oblivion.
Tho myriad lights of Die boats scat¬
tered far and wide, dancing upon the
slightly ruffled water, make a scene,
viewed from a distance, of almost
fairy enchantment. The cries of the
people, tlio chanting of tlio priests, the
sound of gongs, the music of sham-
isens, tlic naked (except the girdle
cloth) bronzed figures of the people
flying hither and thither in wild ex¬
citement, blended with Die shadow* of
the night, form altogether a picture
impossible to describe, and which
leaves upon tlio memory an impression
as of some wild, weird phantasmago¬
ria.— [Washington Star.
How to Start a Balky Horse.
A writer in Our Dumb Animals
sa y S that whenever a horse driven by
]Gin lias balked, lie lias got out of his
carriage, gone to the horse’s forefoo',
lifted it from the ground, and struck
the slice a few blows with a stone. lie
lias never failed to start a balky Jioree
iu this very simply way.
Mow Mountains Were Mntlc.
Foremost in their geographic im¬
portance, and in the iulrioncy and six-
iiiticnuco of their geological struc¬
ture ami origin, aro the mountain
bells which consist of folded rock
formations. The strata forming tho
upper part of the earth’s crust aro
bent up ami down in long, nearly
straight or curving, wavc-liko ridges
ami troughs, ami where their disturb¬
ance was grontost tho successive r dged
folds are closely pressed together. Tho
waves of the rock structuro aro then
pushed to such steepness that their sides
become parallel with each other, and
t ho entire fold is drivon forward into
an inclined position. Tho order of the
strata on tho lower side of tho ap-
pressed fold is lints inverted; tho
originally highest and last formed de¬
posits there lie beneath older beds, in
nu overturned scries. Subncrial orosion
i hen wears down tlie nndiilniions and
the crests of tho closely folded strata,
often pinning llicm off until a long
section, crossing mountain range,
passes from older lo newer beds, and
onward from newer to older, in seve¬
ral alternations, having throughout
the wliolo a nearly constant steep dip.
Owing to tlio interbedding of hard and
enduring sandstone, quartzite, gneiss,
and oilier rock formations, with more
easily eroded limestone, shales, in¬
coherent fiimistonos, or schists, tho
erosion commonly produces a now
topography, making hollows and long
valleys where the more erosildo beds
have been removed, and leaving ridges
and mountain ranges of the harder
rook’. More flmn this, when erosion
lias been continued through very
1 mg periods, it tends toward the ult -
mate result of removing the upward
curved or anticlinal portions of Die
great folds and sparing (ho originally
lower downward curved or synclinal
portions, until valleys take the places
which wore originally occupied by (lie
highest upheavals, while tho original
troughs, whore tlio rocks were most
compacted by pressure, remain now
ns the principal mountain ridges.
Under denudation, the folded molin'
tuilions belt fulfills tho prophecy,
“Every valley shall be exalted, ami
every mountain and bill shall be made
low.”—[From A Glassification of
Mountain Ranges, by Warren Upham,
in The Popular Science Monthly for
September.
An Aluminium Steamboat.
S me novel and interesting experi¬
ments have recently been made on Iho
Lake of Zurich with a steamboat built
entirely of aluminium, which claims
to bo Die first of its kind, Tlio boat
weighs only about half a ton—viz.,
about half Die weight of an ordinary
boat of tlio same size. It was built at
the works of Messrs. Kscher, VVyss &
Go., of Zurich, tho metal having been
furnished by Die Aluminium Works
of Schnffh msen, where it is obtained
by an electrical process, Die dynamos
being driven, not by steam engines,
but by turbines, which utilize tlio
water power of Die celebrated falls of
the Rhine, so that Die boat claims to
be exclusively the product of Swiss
labor and power.
It curries eight persons, and, with
a petroleum engine of only two-horse
power, can easily make six miles an
hour. Aluminium not being subject
(o rust, the permanent color of tho
boat is a beautiful dull white, whilst
the chimney being of polished alumin¬
ium, shines like silver. The trial trips
of the boat were eminently successful;
and it is anticipated that the construc¬
tion of aluminium steamers, having
Die same capacity, and only half Die
weight of iron ones now used in Die
Swiss lakes has a great future before
it. —[London Staudatd.
Good Enough to Prnclie.c on.
While stationed in Richmond Bar¬
racks, in Dublin, along with a detach¬
ment of tlie Dublin Fusilecra, one of
Die eonfrics belonging to that corps
got strict orders to present arms to all
field officers, and especially to Die
commanding officer. A young subal¬
tern was passing lus post and the sen¬
try presented arms to him. The officer,
however, went up to Die sentry and
told him that lie was not entitled to
that compliment, when the sentry
replied: “Acli, sure, you are good
enough lo practice on.”—[Now York
Mercury.
Grandfather’s Tnrtlc.
Erastus North of Berlin, caught a
turtle last week which was captured
by his father half a centurv ago. The
following letters arc carved on the
shell: “L. J. Lamb, A. S., E. N-,
1840.” The initials “A. S.” mean
Albert Sanderson, who is still living
in Durham. Mr. Lamb arid the origi¬
nal Erastus North are dead.' Witnesses
are living who can testify that Die
three men marked the turtle as above
in 1840 and then permitted it to go
free.— [Hartford Couraut,
OFFICIAL ORGAN
ore* this —
FRANKLIN COUNTY ALLIANCE
UHILDREN’S COLUMN.
m: mam; instinct ok a d on.
A correspondent sends to (lie Lon¬
don Spectator tlio following anecdote
illustrative of a dog’s “humanity”:
“The servant man of ono of my
friends took a kitten to a pornl with
the intention of drowning it. His
master’s dog was with him, and when
the kitlon was thrown into the water
tho dog sprung in and brought it back
safely to land. Tho second time the
man throw it in, and again tho dog
rescued it ; nml when for tho third
time the man tried lo drown it tlio
dog, as resolute to save the little help,
less life as the man was to destroy it,
swam with it to Die other sido of tlio
pool, running all the way homo with
it mid safely depositing it before (lie
kitchen tiro, and ‘over after’ they wore
inseparable, sharing even tlio small
bed.”
TIIK (lAI.F.NA’S 1IKKOIC OAT.
A Key West (Fla ) dispatch says:
As Dio Galena swung out into the
chan mil to g iro place to Dm Yantie at
the pier, and the Inst lino was cast oil,
a sailor forward, who undoubtedly bad
a grudge against tho ship's pet cat,
seized her and throw her upon Die
pier. It was too late for pussy to
regain her place, and in lior distress nt
seeing Die ship slowly moving away
slio rail frantically up and down Dio
d >ek, crying sufficiently lotnl to ho
heard distinctly above Die btistlo inci¬
dent upon getting tlio vosscl in mo¬
tion.
Tho ship was fifty feet away when
puss suddenly turned, and, springing
from the pier, struck out boldly for
the vessel, making for a ladder which
was still hang over the side. In a mo¬
ment slio was clinging to Dio lowest
slop, unable to raise herself out of Die
water. Something liko a cheor went
up from tlio crowd who had witnessed
Dor heroic action, and a sailor stationed
near, dropping down tlie ladder, seized
Dio half drowned cat and landed her
safely on deck. Puss hud earned pro¬
motion, and if she fails to walk Die
quarterdeck it will bo because heroism
is not appreciated in the navy.
APIfON STKINGS.
“I promised my mother I would be
home at six o’clock."
“But what harm will an hour more
do?”
“ft will make my mother worry,
and I shall break my word."
“Before I’d be tied to a woman’s
apron-strings 1”
“My mother doesn’t wear aprons,”
said tho first speaker Avitii a laugh,
“except in tho kitchen somolimos,
and I don’t know as I ever noticed any
strings.”
“You know what I moan. Gan’t
you stay ami see the game finished?”
“I could slay, but I will not. I
made a promise to my mother, and I
am going to kcop it.”
“Good boy!” saida lioarso voice
just back of tlie two hoys.
They turned to see an old man poor¬
ly clad and very feeble.
“ Abruhnm Lincoln once told a
voting man,” the stranger resumed,
“to cut the acquaintance ofovery per¬
son who talked slightingly of his
mother’s apron-strings, aud it is a
very safe tiling to do, as I know from
experience. It was just such talk that
brought mo to min mid disgrace, for
1 was ashamed not to do as other boys
did, and when they made fan of
mother 1 laughed, too—God forgive
mo! There camo a time when it was
too lato”—and now tlicro were
tears in the old eyes—“when I
would gladly have been made a pris¬
oner, tied by these same apron-strings,
in a dark room with bread and water
for my fare. Always keep your en¬
gagement with your mother. Never
disappoint her if you can possibly help
it, and when advised to cut loose
front her apron-strings, cut
(be advi or, and take a tighter clutch
of Die apron-strings. This will bring
joy and long life to your mother, Dio
best friend you have in the world,and
will insure you a noble future, for it
is impossible for a good sou to be a
bad mail.”
It was an excellent sign lliat both
boys listened attentively, and both
said “Thank you” at the conclusion
of the stranger’s lecture, ami they left
the ball grounds together, silent and
thoughtful. At last the apron-string
critic remarked, with a deep-drawn
nigh,
“That old man lias made me gooses
flesh all over.”
“Oil, Dick,” said his companion,
“just think what lovely mothers we
have both got!”
“Yes; and if anything were to hap¬
pen to them, and we hadn’t done right!
You'll never bear apron-strings out of
my mouth again,”—[Harper’s Young
People.
* 7.00 PER YEAH.
Later Days.
Ob. blessed boon of days In which wo live!
To lice, nnd larger, lordlier u-e to make
Of passing moments, than when wild mis¬
take
Of willful youth the golden hours would
weave
With scarlet ruin, bidding Angels grieve—
Our own dear Angel, oven, swift, awake
To celebrate us, rather; so we take
Ah priceless gift,lids Inter days’ reprieve.
Such gift of grace it, is, we cannot yield
Time’s smallest dart to profitless regret;
The old, dead past must bury its own dead.
We live! and living, And abundant Held
Around, within, where iurent gems mo set,
To hold us garnering till the years lie sped,
— [Mary It. Dodge, in the Independent.
HUMOROUS.
Livo longor than most men—
Giants.
How to catcli a husband—Grab him
by tlio hair.
It is woil to remember Dint every¬
thing follows the man who goos
ahead.
Tlie pretty girl with a rod fiddle
knows just how to draw a beau to
amt fro.
Lightning ought to make a good
ball player; it seldom strikes without
making a hit.
Money talks. In America it talks
cents and in Franco it is id ways franc
in its uttonuicos.
It is tlio brown lino on a friend’s
face Hint gives color to tlio statement
that lie bad a good time at tho sea¬
side.
Philosophers toll us that from Adam
down no man lias yet understood u.
woman; hut men aro not tired of try¬
ing yet, by any means.
Jack—Why is dough like a man?
Susie—Bocauso it’s hard to get off
your hands. Jack—Oh, no. It’s a
tiling Dio women knead.
“Was your olopoinent u success?”
“Hardly.” “What wont wrong?”
“Her fallior telegraphed us not to re¬
turn and all would be forgotten.”
Irato Subscriber—l demand to see
the editor. Where is he? Printer—lie’s
in tho loft. Tlio citizens tarred and
feathered him last night. I. 8.—Yes,
ami that’s just what 1 want to sec him
about. Tlio tar belonged to inc and I
want Die editor to pay for it.
A mosquito in getting in bis work
employs a lance, two saws and an ar¬
rangement for pumping blood. The
right time to “swipe” him is while ho
is sawing off a norvo to make a liolo
in which to insert tlie pump. The
whole kit of tools is then yours
Soap Made From Soap Wcrd.
That prickly pirate of Dio pinin',the
Mexican soap weed, is being converted
rapidly into a delicious toilet soap, “tit
to wasli Dio hands of the Dope,” by a
West Bottoms manufacturing com¬
pany. The soap weed since time be¬
gan,or siuce the Kansas prairie was an
iultind sea, has thrust its roots deep in
tlic soil of tho unsheltered plains and
flourished. There has been nothing
until now to diminish tiio supply or
exterminate tlie species. The hot sun,
tlie baking winds and Die dearth of
that moisture which is supposed to bo
absolutely necossary to life harmed not
this hardy sentinel of the plains. Wet
or dry, Dot or cold, its rtipier-liko
blades, sharp as n cambric needle,
radiated aiiko from a given spot on
tho surface of the earth.
Tho root of this weed is now being
gathered up by men who drive their
wagons over tlie plains of 'Western
Kansas. A sharp spade is driven
down deeply by tlio side of tlic plant,
tlie earth is broken and Die thick,
brown root secured. Tlio top, w t’l
its long spines, is thrown aside,
Sometimes a long, sharp tool D re¬
quired to reacli deep inlo tlio ground
in order to secure tlio greater part of
tlio root. Like Die prairie dog, “it
goes down to water.” The root lias
been known to extend as far as twenty
feet into tho soil, but only from two
to three feet of the upper portion,
which is about two inches thick,
is worth digging for. This
root is brought by the wagon
load to Kansas City, where tlio In¬
terstate Toilet Soap Company, rvith
a littlo factory at Twelfth and Gen¬
esee, converts it into soap. The roots
are first washed, then cut up and boiled
out in a big vB, where other ingredi¬
ents are also placed. When this is
dried out to such a degree that it will
solidify it is moulded into semi-trans¬
parent cakes that slip around in tho
hands delightfully while being used.
One of the most wonderful things
about this weed is that while growing
in a region where alkali pools dot the
ground and where the soil is white
with Die chemical, none of it is found
in the root. Many of the poorer set¬
tlers who occupy “dugouts” find the
root in its natural state a panacea for
ir.uuy ills. They cut it into c nvenient
pieces aud use it as a cake of toilet
soap,—[Kansas City Tiijr.es.