Newspaper Page Text
OFFICIAL ORGAN
—oar—
PgAN KUW COUNTY.
VOL. II. NO. 51.
C HPISTMA3 BELLS.
Bing load I Bing long 1
jrulwut Christmas bells!
HM peals e'er too-bigb for Him
Whose natal morn
r W choir and tuneful seraphim
rpi,e waning year still tells,
To burdened souls forlorn,
Bing loud! Ring long!
f y e me rry Christmas bells,
Bing loud 1 Ring long 1
Bing low! Pray strong.
Low-lying, mourning hearts,
god-s well-loved poor ! By day, by night,
Mute lips, give praise.
g 6 knows tby direst need;' know thou His
might* lavish
From Bouuty’s hand,
In Plenty’s garnered maize,
Pray low I Pray strong 1
Christ's longing, patient ones,
A~-—— Pray low! Pray strong?
Moan now, moan now
-if No more! On wasting couch
Gaunt specters, tossing to and fro,
“EliesoD," cry!
Christ the Consoler comes to smooth thy
brow,
. To light thy darkened sky,
To calm all earthly woe.
■ Moan now, moan now
No more! Christ stills both heart
And mean, and moan.
Bing loud I Ring long,
0 strong-toned, Christmas belts!
For all—the rich, the wise, the poor,
Your welcome swells—
Bing long for Charity’s wide open door!
Rmg loud—a stainless name!
Ring long for Truth’s bright score!
Ring loud! Ring long,
Life's hopeful, Christmas bells,
Ring loud 1 Ring long 1
— R. T. Greener.
Martin’s Christmas Gift.
BY HELEN FORREST GRAVES.
A gray December twilight; the leaf¬
less woods half hidden in the whirling
clouds of snow that had begun to flutter
through the chill air as the sun went
down; a melancholy wind sighing sadly
down the valley, where rocky hills rose
up on each side of the steely gleaming
river, and only the red light from
Farmer Carey’s kitchen window seemed
to brighten up the somber scene. For
the great log fire that blazed in the
cheery throat of the huge stone chimney
was sufficient of itself to light up the
gloomiest winter gloaming that ever
closed over the bleak New England
hills..
It was a large, low room, with newly
whitewashed walls, and solid wainscot¬
ing Extending half way up to the ceiling;
s room with small paned windows,
which oddly distorted everything you
looked at through their medium, and
chairs and tables which were evidently
manufactured in the days when wood
was cheap, and people didn’t mind a
little extra bulk to lift around. A bright-
striped rag carpet covered the floor, and
the shelves of the wooden cupboard be¬
yond the chimney were decorated with
layers of newspapers, cut in fanciful
shells and scollops, while divers and
sundry implements of gleaming tin,
hung on the walls, flashed back the
brightness of the fire like so many
eyes.
“Well?” said Mrs. Carey, setting down
on a round pine stand the fat tallow
candle she had just lighted, as her hus¬
band came in, shaking the light snow
from his pepper-and-salt-covered over¬
coat, as if he intended to have a good
storm within doors, on his own ac¬
count.
“Well,” answered Stephen Carey,
composedly, “it’s a-goin’ to snow all
eight like furiation, an’ the wind’s set-
tin’ round to the east, and if it hadn’t a’
been for them mufflers you knit last
month, my ears would ha’ been clean
froze off my head.”
They were a curiously contrast¬
ing couple. She, rosy and fresh-
colored, with bright black eyes,
and a quick, fluttering way with
her, like a bird; while he was tall,
and slow, and ponderous, with leather-
brown skin, and an expressionless, fos¬
silized face. Yet they had been a singu¬
larly happy couple all their lives long.
“Did you get any letters?”
“Yes.”
“From Martin?"
“No, not from Martin. We’re goin’
to have company to Christmas. Vivia
Grey is coming to-morrow night.”
Mrs. Carey elevated both hands in a
sort of spasmodic despair.
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“close to MRS. caret’s side.”
“For the land’s sake !” was her ex¬
clamation (which Stephen Carey face¬
tiously termed'* 1 mother’s swear!”) “what
are we goin’ to do with Vivia Grey? We
h&ia’t nothin’ like what she's been used
THE ENTERPRISE.
to, and I don’t see hew on arth we'ro to
make her anyways comfortable. We
hain’t no velvet carpets, nor silk sofys,
like they have to her uncle’s, and I don’t
know what should send her here.”
“Because she wants to see us, I
s pose,” observed Stephen, composedly.
“There, there, wife, don’t fret. Blood
is thicker than water, and she's our fos¬
ter cousin, you know. It’ll make it
pleasant for Martin, when he comes."
But Mrs. Carey could not take matters
so easily as did her more phlegmatic
spouse.
I didn t put no icin’ on that cake, ’’
she fretted, “and there wasn’t a raisin
left tor the pies, arter I’d mixed up the
puddin’. I might have sent for some by
Deacon Beardsleys boys, if I’d only
knowned in time. And then the floor
in the front bedroom—I hain’t no carpet
for it, and ”
“Oh, bother the carpet, mother. If
Vivia can't put up with what we’ve got,
she must go elsewhere; but I’ll risk her.
Where’s the paper?”
The snow lay white and pure, like
ridges of pearl, over all the fallen logs
and unsightly stone walls, fringing the
solemn old cedar trees and turning the
woods to cathedral arcbe3 carved in
dazzling marble and alabaster, when
Farmer Carey's old box-sleigh, cosily
lined with buffalo robes, jiDgled up to
the door, just about dusk, and Vivia
Grey ran into the kitchen, like a little
fur-robed fairy, to Mrs. Carey’s no small
astonishment.
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“THERE HE IS NOW.”
There was nothing so very terrible
about this city visitant, after all—a deli¬
cate girl in blue merino dress, and gold
brown hair falling in a rippled cloud about
her oval face—a girl whose shy brown
eyes looked at you as pleading for love,
and whose mouth was as pert and lovely
as a rosebud! Mrs. Carey threw off her
wrappings in front of the huge fireplace.
“We’ve got a fire in the front room,”
began Mrs. Carey, but Vivia did not
allow her to finish the sentence.
“Oh, nevermind the front room,”
she said, coaxingly, “it’s so bright and
snug and cheery here, You'll let me
stay, won’t you?”
And Vivia had her way.
She was the brightest little sunbeam
that night that ever illuminated the
quiet old farm house. At least so
thought Farmer Carey and his wife, as
Vivia ran about, helping to clear away
the table, and sweeping up the hearth
and wiping the dishes as deftly as if she
had been brought up to the trade, and
finally settling down on a little cricket
close to Mrs. Carey's side, where every
gleam of the blazing fire turned her
bright hair to shimmering gold and mir¬
rored itself in the limpid depths of her
hazel eyes.
“It’s a little dull for you to night, my
dear," said the farmer,glancing lovingly
at her, as he smoked his evening pipe,
“but Martin will be here to-morrow
night, to spend Christmas. That’s your
cousin, my dear."
“My Cousin Martin F repeated Vivia,
softly.
“You’ll like him, I’m sure—he’s ns
fine a fellow as ever breathed, if he is
my son,” went on the old man. “And
—now this is a great secret, my girl, re¬
member— and I guess likely Martin
means to surprise me with it, for I only
heard on it through Deacon Beardsley’s
daughter-in-law, who came up last week
—I shouldn’t wonder if Martin should
bring a wife here, one of these days, to
get the old folks’ blessing!”
The farmer's face was radiant as he
spoke. Vivia listened wiih her fair, head
slightly turned.
“Would you like it?" >
“Like it! I guess we should!”
“But you might not find his bride—”
“My Martin would never bring home
bride that we shouldn’t love—of that
a
I’m sartin,” answered the old farmer,
conclusively. earnestly,
“Uncle Care),” said Vivia,
“will you promise me one thing?”
“Half a dozen, if you choose.”
Vivia laughed. Prom-
“I shall be satisfied with* one.
ise that you will not tell your son I
me vexed
here. He—he may be to
am Christ-
think that the quiet of his home
should be disturbed by the presence
mas
of ° a stranger.” feel He’ll
“ ’Taint like Martin to so.
make you as welcome as flowers in May.”
Equal Rights to all, Special Privileges to None.
CARNESVILLE, FRANKLIN (XX, GA., FRIDAY, DECEMBER ‘25.1891.
“Yes, but promise me I It’s only my
whim!"
And she looked so pleadingly into
Farmer Carey's eyes that he could not
but promise.
The orange sunset of Christmas Eve
streamed athwart the sunny fields like a
beacon of promise—the woods, all hung
with silver-pearled icicles, shone and
glittered like enchanted palaces, as
Farmer Carey drove up to the old red
store at the cross-roads when the daily
stage from the nearest railroad station
discharged its human freight, and peered
over the fur wrappings with which the
careful hands ot his wife and Vi via had
completely muffled him.
“There he is now, walkin’ up and
down, with his hands in his pockets,"
cried the farmer, his brown face light-
ing up at the sight of his only son.
“Martin! Martin, my ladl Why I do
believe old Whiteface knows him!”
And the next moment Martin Carey
was seated beside his father in the box
sleigh, cheerily answering the torrent of
questions which the eld mail eagerly
poured forth.
“And mother is well?” he asked,
when he could get a chance to speak.
“Yes, and—”
But here Farmer Carey bethought
himself of his promise to brown-eyed
little Vivia, and awkwardly turned the
current of his words.
“And she’lt bo glad to see you, my
boy! But, Martin, you don’t look as
hearty as you did last September. You
are pale!”
“Am I?”
The young man was evidently a little
embarrassed.
Farmer Carey dropped the reins
aghast.
“There’s nothing wrong, Martin?
You haven’t been getting in debt? Be¬
cause if you have, my boy, we aren’t
rich folks, but there is the farm, and if
a mortgage, or—■"
“Nay, nay, father.” answered Mavtin,
pressing the old man’s hand and gather¬
ing up the reins with a sad smile; “I
am in no such difficulty as that; thank
you all the same. Nor did I meau to
cast a shadow over your quiet life with
the reflection of my own sorrows. But
since you have questioned me, I will
confide in you freely. I have fallen in
love.”
“That’s nothing to look sad about,”
the farmer answered. “Why, it’s what
I did myself, son Martin!”
> ‘It was a pleasant, brief dream, fath¬
er,” went on Martin, “but it was soon
over. I’m only a workingman, father,
with just enough to live ou—”
“A workingman!” broke in Stephen
Carey. “And what of that? Ain’t they
the bone and sinew of the land? Why,
boy, you ought to be proud of the
title!”
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“WALKED TO THE VILLAGE CHURCH.”
“Hear me out, father. I loved a girl
who would grace the home of any man,
and I had reason to believe that she re¬
turned my love. A trifling difference
somehow made a coolness between us. I
was in the wrong. Being made aware
that I had misjudged her, I was about
to seek a reconciliation, when I learned
that she had fallen heiress to a fortune
which lifted her far above my humble
sphere. I have always said that I would
never marry a heiress. Still less would
I lay myself open to misconception now,
when the world would say that her
wealth alone brought about our recon¬
ciliation. I shall never see her again.”
“But, Martin—”
“Oh, father, I am very miserable!”
One moment Martin Carey’s head
drooped on the kindly shoulder of the
old man; then he straightened up again,
erect and stately as a young pine tree.
“If you please, sir, you will not speak
of it again. Let it die into the past.
You would have liked her, I think. She
is a distant relation of mother^ family.”
“Twan’t Ruth Ann Wilcox, who went
to York, teachin’ school last fall?”
“No, sir; it was not Ruth Ann Wil¬
cox."
And with this Mr. Carey was forced
to be contented. Evidently, Martin did
not like to be questioned; so, in his in¬
most mind, the old man came to the con-
elusion that it must have been “Deacon
’Sinh Parson’s step-daughter, that was
half-sister to mother’s cousin, Job All¬
ways.”
“But, Martin,” he ventured to say,
after the 7 had skimaie<1 aloQ g over the
hard, frozen ground for some minutes in
silence, “doyou believe you young folks
could have kissed and made friends if it
hadn’t been for the money she’s fell
heir to?”
“I do, father."
“There, I swow!" cried Farmer
Carey, brandishing his whip-handle.
“'Tain't doin’ justice to her to lot this
consarned money part you both! Martin,
boy, think twice about it.”
“I have thought, sir, and my mind
is unalterably decided. Could I bear to
be called a fortune-hunter? Father, say
no more; it only re-opens the old
wounds, and, although I feel your kind¬
ness from the bottom of my heart, in¬
deed, indeed, it can do us no good."
From tho uncurtained windows the
red firelight streamed out across the
gathering darkness of the fast-closing
night, as the sleigh drew tingling up in
front of the door, and Martin Caroy
sprang out.
His mother was at the door to receive
him in true motherly fashion, and the
next instant he entered the cheery old
kitchen, whose walls were all festooned
with wreaths of hemlock, ivy, and sinn¬
ing laurel hares, woven in with glowing
scarlet berries.
“Why, mother!” he cried, “this is a
genuine Christmas decoration ! Who
would have dreamed of there being so
much skill left in your lingers.”
“’Tain’t me!" cried Mrs. Caroy, look¬
ing triumphantly round. “Dear me! I
never could ha’ twisted tho things to¬
gether so cunningly—it was Vi via.”
“Vivial”
Martin Carey’s handsome Greek face
grew paie as marble, as he repeated the
word. At the same moment a light,
graceful little figure glided into the
room, and came to his side.
“Yes, Martin, it was I. You’ll let me
wish you a merry Christmas, won’t you?
And, Martin—’’
“Weil?”
She stole her littlo hand softly into
his.
“I've got a Christinas gift for you, if
you will accept it—myself."
“Vivia—stop a minu f e, Vivial” he ex¬
claimed. “Is this a dream, or aro you
really standing here under the shadow of
the old roof-tree, lifting the weight from
my heart? Vivia, my love, my dar-
ling—” wife,” she interposed, gently,
“Your
“Oh, Martin, would you have allowed a
barrier of gold to separate us? Heiress
though I am, I should have; been the
poorest woman in all Christendom if I
had lost your love. And you need never
fear the world’s careless imputation of
being a fortune-huuter. You did not
come after me; I came after you.”
And when Mrs. Carey came in, with
the best damask table cloth on her arm,
Martin and Vivia were still standing in
front of the fireplace, rapt in one
another's low, caressing words, the old
lady stopped short.
“Martin—I didn’t know—”
“But I know, mother 1” cried out the
genial voice of the farmer, close behind
her. “Martin, say, lad, it’s ail right at
last. Mother, we’re goin’ to have a dear
little daughter, and her name is Vivia
Grey l”
And when the clear, cold light of the
blessed Christmas Day dawned radiantly
over the glistening, snow-covered earth,
and the red fingers of sunset wrote across
the orient sky the sweet old words,
“Peace on earth, goodwill to man,”
Martin Carey walked with Vivia to the
village church, and there received the
sweetest Christmas gift that earth could
have in store for him.
He had married an heiress in spite of
all his protestations—and that is the end
of most men’s resolutions.
Chrisimas Bells.
O happy bells! through coming years
We hear, in your glad sending,
The message still o£ peace, good Will-
All jarring discords blending.
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O bells of God! ring on, our souls
To grander action nerving,
Till all our days are Christmas days
Of living and of serving.
—Caroline A. Dugan.
They Were Agreed.
What kind of a neck-tie do you like
best, Maurice?” asked Gertrude with
thoughts of Christmas.
“I like a handsome bow as well as
anything, don’t you?"
“Oh, I just do!” said Gertie, with a
movement that was almost a snuggle;
and Maurice never felt so well satisfied
with his personal appearance as he did
at that moment.
THE SEA LION.
Huge Beasts Found on the Cali¬
fornia Coast
Their Habits and Process of
Capture by Hunters.
Tho sea lion on land and in water
differs so widely in respect to form,
general aspect and movoinonts as to
make it hard to beliovo that the snmo
beast which shambles along slowly
and awkwardly on tho boach is the
swift, graceful thing that glints
through tho surf or plays about in tho
sen.
Only within recent years linvo
scientists gathered sufficient data to
enablo thorn to classify tho sea lions
accurately, and thoro is at present a
coilstant demand for them on the part
of zoological students and public
parks, while the museums and various
shows which present stuffed animals
as attractions maintain such a demand
for them as to make the capture and
preparation of the specimens a profit¬
able business.
Tho popular notion about tho size
of an adult Rea lion is quite erroneous.
Scon in tho distanco basking upon
rocks along tho coast, or swimming,
it appears to bo rather small, perhaps
as large as a man. But when meas¬
ured after death, tho larger specimens
are found to bo from 12 to 16 feet in
length; in girth 8 feet, and in weight
from 1000 to 1500 pounds. The
month of the sea lion is amplo in size,
and is armed with strong, glistening
teeth that readily crunch a salmon, or
tho other fish upon which lions usually
feed, and inflict dreadful wounds
upon other lions, or in rare
instances upon would-bo captors. Tho
animal when oxcilcd 1ms full, dark
eyes, but in its ordinary sluggish con¬
dition tho eyes are pretty nearly cov¬
ered by the lids and give an air of
stupidity to tho boast. The sea lion
has a set of combination limbs, which
combine the forms and functions of
fins, feet and legs. Xlio limbs arc
covered with a thick, rough and tough
hide, almost hornlike in its density,
and are much better adapted to pro¬
gression in the water than upon the
land, although the animals are able to
climb to spots in the face of sea' cliff's
seemingly inaccessible, whore they lie
dozing until hunger compels a resort
to their fishing grounds.
The huge beasts plunge into the sea
from great heights, in somo instances
diving sixty feet or more to reach the
water; indeed, an instance is recorded
in which a hand of large males was
driven over a bluff at least sixty feet
high and plunged down upon tho
rocky beach below. Tho hunters hur¬
ried to the odgo of tho bluff, expecting
to see the beach covered wiih mutila¬
ted and dead lions, out instead merely
caught a glimpse of tho last of the
band plunging into the sea.
The sea lions frequent the whole
Pacific Coast, but are only to be found
iu places from which they can be safe¬
ly taken and shipped at a few spots in
the vicinity of San Francisco. There
is a constant demand for sound living
specimens, and the demand, whether
for Australia, Europe or other parts of
America, is met by the San Francisco
supply. The most skillful handling is
essential to success in capturing the
lions, and even when the host of care
is used only a small proportion, Jess
than one-quarter of those caught, take
kindly to captivity, the rest refusing
to eat and goon dying from starvation,
even though tho choicest fish, moll-
usks, crustaceans and sea fowls, all
of them the usual food of the lions, he
offered.
The process of capture is simplicity
itself when the lions can be roped on
tho beach, hut when as it has several
times happened they have to be las¬
soed on the rocks there is great danger
and a world of trouble.
Tho hunters crawl quietly up to the
dozing beast and when very near
make a slight clucking noise. When
the lion throws up its head the deadly
noose encircles it, and at the same
instant the huge bulk goes off into the
wator, where tho lion has the best of
it. Diving and all possible artifices
are resorted to in the effort to free it¬
self, but if good fortune attends the
beast is gradually dragged ashore,
where additional ropes are looped
over it and its capture is perfected.
On several occasions men have been
drowned while attempting to handle
lions in tho water. Two years ago
two lion hunters wero dragged into
the surf near Pcscadoro by a lion to
which they had fastened ropes,and both
wero drowned. As a sport lion hunt-
mg is exciting, and if Us charms were
more generally known it would be
more indulged in. — [San Francisco
Examiner.
Don’t forget the winter’s wood.
Tastes Dished for a Livelihood.
Tho fact that by many little devicos
Frenchmen will contrive to make a
very comfovtablo living is something
well known to most people. The nice
is nothing if not original. A rather
extraordinary and original method by
which a Frenchman is able to possess
himself legitimately of a great ileal of
other peoplo’i money camo under llio
observation of a Mail and Expressman
tho other day.
He was chatting with tho manager
of a fashionablo uptown restaurant,
recently, when ids attention was called
to a gentleman who had arisen from a
table at which ho had been discussing
a dainty litllo repast. Tho waiter
proffered him his hat, and lie in return
handed tho waiter his pourboririo. As
lie passed out it was noticed that ho
was tastefully and neatly dressed. In
tho lapel of ids frock coat ho wore a
boutonniere, and as ho sauntered leis¬
urely iu tho direction of Murray llill
ho pulled a clgarotto and twirlod a
light cane. Everything about him
was so thoroughly Parisian that ono
would think ho had just stopped off
the boulevards.
“Who do you suppose he is?"
asked tho manager.
Tlie reporter hazarded tho. opinion
Hint lie was somo French count or
oilier.
“Weil, you camo prolty near it, hut
tho fact is, ho is a French cook. At
tho snmo lime, J would sooner have
his custom, although lie is not an ex¬
travagant spender, than that of any
other gentleman who comes here."
After a littlo questioning it tran-
spirod that the distinguished looking
foreigner is as well known to fashion¬
able dinner givors as tho people who
supply tho flowers or furnish the
music. When a dinner is to be given
about which tho host is very particu¬
lar lie is tho tlrst person consulted.
He composes the menu, and, until the
night of tho party, has nothing else to
do witli it.
Then lie calls at tho houso while the
dinnor is in ccuiso of preparation-
lie tastes tho different dishes, and off¬
ers suggestions for their improvement.
These mav be slight in themselves, hut
ns a result tho dinner is a success from
a gastronomic standpoint. It is not
an unusual tiling for iiim to call at
threo or four houses in the course of
one evening during tho season. His
summers are spent at Newport and
Saratoga. During his vacation he will
only deign to perform his duties for
the most exclusive of his patrons.
His income is easily $10,000 a year.—
[New York Mail and Express.
Tempera!ure Extremes.
In Wcrchojansk, East Siberia, the
coldest place known on earth,the tem¬
perature ranges in January from 24
to 80 deg. below zero, and in July
from 40 to 75 deg. above, the mean
for December, January and February
being 65 deg. below zero. The climatic
conditions, says Dr.W. J.Van Bebbcr,
are very high atmospheric pressure in
winter, with calm air and a clear sky
—conditions which favor radiation.
A search for tho hottest region shows
that tho belt of highest temperature
passes through Southeastern Asia, the
interior of North Africa, Arizona and
the centre of Australia. Tho charac¬
teristic climatic feature of this tropic
belt is a high and equable temperature
with dense humidity of the atmos¬
phere.
Tho highest annual mean tempera¬
ture known is on the southern coast of
the Itcd Son. The range of the moan
temperature at Massowah is from 78
to 79 deg. in January and February to
95 to 96 dog. in July and August,with
an annual mean of 86 deg., and a
daily variation of 10 to 12 deg. These
figures do not appear excessive, the
highest mean temperature is occasion¬
ally exceeded in other regions, but
tnc continuous, nearly uniform, high
temperature renders it almost unen¬
durable for Europeans.—[Trenton(N.
J.) American.
What the Greeks Did.
A professor at Columbia College
was explaining some of the habits and
customs of the ancient Crooks to his
class.
“The ancient Greeks built no roofs
over their theatres,” said the profes-
eor.
“What did the ancient Greeks do
when it rained?” asked a student.
The professor took off his specta¬
cles, polished them with his handker¬
chief, and replied calmly:
“They got wet, I suppose.”—[Texas
Siftings.
A Serious Case.
Young Mother—“Wake up! Quick!
Quick! You must run for the doctor.”
Young Father—“Eh? What’s the
matter?”
Young Mother—“Baby has stopped
smiling in her sleep."—[New York
Weekly.
OFFICIAL ORGAN
—or THE—
FRANKLIN COUNTY ALLIANCE
$1.00 PER YEAR.
Mnalc.
Oh, lake the luto this brooding hour tot
me—
The golden lute, the hollow crying lute—
Nor call mo even with thine eyes; be
mute,
And touch the strings; yea, touch them
tenderly;
Touch them and dream, till all thine heart
in thee
Cl row great and passionate and sad and
wild.
Then on me, too, as on thine heart, C
child,
The marvelous light, the stress divine shall
be,
Amt 1 shall see, ns with enchanted eyes,
The unveiled vision of this world flame
by,
Hatties and griefs, nnil storms and phan-
tastes,
The gleaming joy, the ever-seething fire,
Tho hero's triumph and tho martyr’s cry,
The pnin, the madness, the unscarchcd
desire.
—[A. T.nmpmnn, In the Century.
HUMOROUS.
Striped goods nro still fashionablo
in criminal circles.
Dentists aro porfoctly at home in
the drawing room.
When a tailor makes a misfit it
must ho shear careless. » ;
The more cuffs you givo a laundry-
man tho bettor ho likos it.
It is astonishing how debts will ex¬
pand aflor boing contracted.
Burning questions are frequently
discussed in insurance offices.
In a joint dohato it is expected that
one of tho disputants will bo roasted.
The rain producers don’t seem to
quite understand how to handle tho
reins.
“It’s a long inyin’ that lias no turn¬
ings,” remarked Lollaybout, as he
rolled over on the sofa,
Tho loss complaining a wronged
man does the more people will hate
tho man who wronged him.
Teacher—In the sontcnce, “Tho sick
boy loves his medicine,” what part of
speech is love? Johnny—It’s a lie,
mum.
We always envy a fat woman when
we see lior laughing. There seems to
ho so much of her that is having a
good time.
G'ross-cyod man (in a crowd)—
You’ve got my umbrella, sir! Four¬
teen men (simultaneously and some¬
what confusedly)—Who? Me?
Mother—Whoro aro you off lo,
Hans? Hans—To school. Teacher is
going to show us tho cclipso of the
moon tonight Mother—Hero, you
stay at homo. If your teacher wants
to show you an) th ug, lie can do it
during school hours.
Bees Working at Night.
“Bees work at night in the hive and
build combs as perfectly as If an elec¬
tric light had sliono there nil the 111116 ,“
affirms the American Bee Journal*
which says further:
“Many times wo havo been asked
why they prefer the darkness, bul
there aro good reasons for doing
so. All know that honey is a liquid
without any solid sugar in it. But,
after standing, it gradually assumes a
crystalino appearance; in oilier words,
it granulates, and ultimately will bo-
coine a solid mass. Somo have stated
that this change is duo to tho snmo
agent which alters the molecular ar¬
rangement of the iodine of silver on
tho excited collodion plate, and de¬
termines the formation of camphor
and iodine crystals in a bottle.
“Wo aro informed (hat Professor
Schiebcr enclosed honey in well-
corked flasks, some of which he kept
in perfect darkness, while tho others
wero exposed to tho light. The re¬
sult has been that the portion exposed
to tho light soon crystallizes, while
that kept in tho dark remains un¬
changed. Hence, wo see why the
bees aro so careful to obscure the
glass windows which aro sometimes
placed in their hive, The existence
of tho young depends on the liquidity
of the saccharine food presented to
them, and if light were allowed access
to this, in all probability it would
prove fatal to the inmates of the
hive.”
Japan’s Volcano Made Lakes.
In July, 1888, came that terrible ex¬
plosion iu Japan which blew the
mountain of Banda! San into the air,
killing many people, while the frag¬
ments of the shattered mountain fall¬
ing into the rivers dammed them so
completely that three large lakes were
formed. The agricultural land was
ruined by the ashes and lava that cov¬
ered it. The great calamity seems to
be providing its own compensation,
for most of the men of that district
have turned their attention to fishing
in the three new lakes, which are said
to teem with fish of various kinds.
They are thus beginning to recoup
themselves in a measure for the loss
they sustained by the eruption .—
[Boston Transcript.