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CRAWFORDVTLLE - * GEORGIA.
GENERAL NEWS
Selma, Alabama, expects soon to have
•loctnc lights.
Alabama marble is much used for
monuments and other purposes.
Labok quantities of walnut and poplar
logs from southwest Virginia are shipped
north.
Orxknvillb, 8. O., has a population
of 8,355. An increase of over two thou¬
sand in three years.
A bbuxjk over the Mississippi river at
New Orleans, at a coat at thirty million
dollars, is talked of.
Thk orange crop of Florida this year
will be one-eight in excess of last year,
so 'tin estimated.
Louisiana is being grid-ironed with
railroads and in consequence land is ad¬
vancing in prices.
Tukke is a Justice of the Peace in
Banks county, Cla., who has held bis of¬
fice for eight years and hss never tried
a case, always getting the litigants to
compromise.
Tin-stone, sevonty-eight per cent tin,
hss lately l>ern discovered in Birming¬
ham, Ala The lauds where the And
occurred are being developed and much
is expected from them.
While blasting on the site of the new
bath-house at Hot Springs, Ark., re¬
cently, a new spring of hot water was
discovered, the thermal fluid bursting
forth with a force sufficient to throw a
stream a distance of fifty foot.
Extensive land sales are reported in
Arkansas. Splendid timber lands, ex¬
tending up the Sabine river, with a river
front of twenty miles, have lately been
purchased with foreign capital. This
large tract, it is said, contains 400,000,
000 fort of timber.
Since the death of Chaniliord, tlio last
Koyalist nownpaiwr in France lias ceased
publication. It is probable that tho
poor pretense of royalty was a costly
tstable to Ohambord after all, and that
it was his purse that opened when a lit¬
tle advertising was needed. *
The will of Mr*. Fillnior*, widow of
the late Preaideut, is the subject of a
contest in a court at Buffalo, New Ydkk,
a claim being made that she wss insane
when she made it. It is another warn¬
ing to wealthy persons to distribute
their property as llioy w«h it before the
call of death is beard. .*
Dubino BeptemlKir /II ,218 cabin paa
aenger* entered out (Widen (late, against
9,8#3 for the same mJnth
uumbe*- iV liagran'tH for the
d2,IKK), being a decrease
the preceding year. The year's immi
gration shows a decrease of about 60,000
■from die figure* of last, year.
Tins South stands low in the scale of
wealth. In Georgia, for example, In
1880 $240,000,000 represented tho aggre¬
gate voluo of property of 1,500,000 ]»eo
ple, making but $160 jier capita, less
than half the $3-10. whicn was tho gen¬
eral average on the same basis of valua¬
tion. However, of tin* $210,000,000
•bout $231,000,000 were held by the
white* —817,000 in number —so that the
wealth per capita of the white citizens
was alxmt $185, not so far below the av¬
erage. For the sake of comparison we
note that the individual wealth of Great
Britain is the highest in the world. Say
in 1880, on aggregate wealth of 45 bill¬
ions of dollars divided amongst 32,000,*
000 persons, an average of $1,400 per
capita. France stands next. Popula¬
tion 36,000,000, wealth 37 billion dollars,
avtrago, $1,030. The United States is
next in older, if 40 billion dollars l>o a
correct valuation, about $800 jn>r capita.
Germany with a population of 41,00(1,000
and a wealth of 30 billions, next, the av¬
erage per capita being $740. Probably
Massachusetts, as a single state, would
head the list of wealth j>er capita, with
between $1,500 and $1,800 os the aver
*S«.
Ameriran Brinks in Russia.
A letter from Moscow says: “Ameri¬
can drinks' are the latest novelty
brought from the country of the Yankee's
to that of the Czar, Now yon hear men
in all the hotels and large vodka shops
here asking for American drinks, and
many a joke is cracked on such occa¬
sion.-. 1 beard a gentleman say;
“I prefer Ainenoaui to Russian.”
“What American to what Russian?”
he was asked by a fellow countryman.
“Spirits, of course.”
“In what sense ?’’
“In any sense the American drink in¬
spires. ” Russian remarked:
A tipsy Americanized.” “I feel 1
am getting
American dlinks are in good demand
here, and the Treasury reaps a large
profit from them. Yet the word “Amer¬
ican,” being used too often, and particu¬
larly by Government loose tongues, in good annoys the auto¬ It
cratic earnest.
till* is very Nihilist probahl* that American will drinks,
of pamphlet*, forbidden soon tie put
eo the list things.
What a happy wav of putting thing*
fbereal poet has ! Now, Bums, instead
of saying "Beware of pickpockets !” ex
preswa the same idea by “A duel's
among ye tnkus notes.”
THE RUINED WELL.
>• What seek yon here, my Uttl* maid?”
I salted, a* by the rnimxl well
8 he stood, and looked a« it obeyed
By her, was some unholy spell.
"Till*, not the honr, nor this the place,
For maiden inch as yon to roam.
Come, from thy brow tbai sad look chase
And find with me your forert home P’
"Nay, sir, 'tie not chance bring* me hem,
No folly doe* my step* attend ;
"He honr ha* tor toe no fear,
No terrors does the wild soene blend.”
“Then tell me wbat In rites yonr care;
Has this place pleasures then, for thee?
Bnch lonely vigil seems so rare,
For one who should be sorrow free.”
“A lover, sir, hid I, but he
Is far away—cross oceans’ foam
Ten thousand miles from Normandy
A stranger land is now his home.”
“On many an eve, like this, to-night
We watched yon bright stars cast their speH
O’er the dark scene, and knew each light
That kissed the water in this well.”
“I, was the well, he said to me;
Deep my love and clear my heart;
The twinkling star above was he,
Steady and true, tho’ far apart.”
“He bads me come whene’er the sky
The seven stars of the dipper showed;
And looking from those gems on high
See, where in yonder well they glowed.”
“Then think of him; for that same hour
That saw me watch each twinkling light
Would draw him like the magnet's power,
To watch them in the silent night.”
“Oh, Sir, tho’ unseen, now to you,
My lover look* from yonder star;
In this old well, reflection too,
Of his dear form shines from afar.”
She paused, and on each bright gem fix’d
A look ef hope, content and love
Such trust with doubt and pain nnmix’d,
—Enough the heart of stone to move !
0 child-like faith, we need snch, more
Than what this earth at present yield*
Where hope and trust together soar
To brighter skies and heavenly fields.
— R. G. Rekvoco.
TVrother »Tack.
If you will ride with me some morning
over a hilly section of New England, I
will show you my old homo. The little
manufacturing Village of my boyhood
has Iteoome almost tho a best city. in Our family will
reeidenoo, once town,
soon make way for ft row of tenement
houses. Once the dingy, glances many-jmned within.
windows cast merry
Now, far-soeing with the vision of old
age, they look beyond the hill, busy with street, the
beyond the brick-crowned
ghosts of an ancient forest low, waving city. over
it, and they see a green
Among its crumbling door-plates they
can read the names of all tho Dennison
family save one, and that is on my office
door—John Dennison, M. D.
Tears ago, father owned a woolen fac¬
tory at the Falls. I suppose h» was
considered a prominent man in the town,
for he held important Jack offices and many I years.
Mother died when were very
& Jack afid. I were! twins, Few
^ of.’WKrt wu .-taiiy indiscriminately knew us apart, Jack
people called ns
or fastest John. The neighbors Jack and knew the that loudest the
runner was
talker was John and everybody knew
tli at when one boy was visible the other
most be within and Alice hearing kept distance. house
Fannie for us.
The poor girls must have had an uncom¬
fortable time of it with Jack and I. It
was doubtless a liappy day for them
when we were pushed off to tho acad¬
emy some twenty miles distant, with the
promiso that if we behaved ourselves
and tho teachers thought anything could
be made of ns we could fit for collpge.
“Now, young men, don’t if you go to play¬
ing pranks and attend to your
books, you’ll walk home and go to
work,” father said, as he drove away
from the boarding-honse.
Father was a man of his word and we
governed ourselves accordingly, al¬
though we managed to have some pretty
gay times. At the end of three years
wo' had completed our “tit.” Father
came down to the exhibition and lis¬
tened complacently while wo shouted
forth our lofty aspirations and our
swooping denunciations against the fool¬
ish world. We went homo foeling that
we were just the men to revolutionize
society. Four years seemed a Ion tt time
boforo wo could begin and I was p fraid
some of tho other fellows would get
ahead of us and right all the wrongs be¬
fore we were out of college.
What plans we marie that summer.
Of course, we were going to study for a
profession, and we would always lie part¬
ners. Blit, what profession would l>est
further the interests of the human race
and the credit of the Dennison family V
I was in favor of studying medicine, but
Jack list'd to say that he didn’t want to
spend his life doctoring sick babies or
making bread poultices.
One day after we had had a more than
usually earnest discussion we went into
the house and found father sitting in his
ann-ehair uneonsoioiu*. He hod l«ecn
suddenly stricken with paralysis. We
summoned the doctors and they told
us that he could never \>e well again in
mind or body, although he might live
for years. We all bore our affliction as
well as we could. Jack and I saw that
we must look aftar the mill and the
family, and that the uhregenerate world
must’look after itself. Wo divided the
work between us and got on very well.
One mornmg the laat uf August. Jack
came to me and said :
“John, 1 want yon to go to college
We are not both needed here. I can
hire help and take care of the factory
well enough. I like it first rate. You
can study with a doctor vacations and it
won’t take you so very* long to get
through. We must have one profes¬
sional man in the family, and you know
I never did care * great deal sl'ou^
studying medicine. Now pack your
traps and be off. ’’
At first I would no! listen to the projv
ositiou, bat secretly it was just what T
hail been wishing might happen. Jack
easily overcame my scruples and the
next week I started for Dartmouth.
I remember how cheery Jack tried to
look that morning when the stage rat¬
tled up to the door.
“Don’t be in a hurry,” he said, as we
lifted in the trunk. “I shall get along
all right. Good luck, old boy;" and I
heard him whistling as we slowly climbed
the hill
What with the hazing and without
Jack I was a month. thoroughly miserable the third boy day
for the next By I
after my arrival at Hanover, had de¬
cided that running a factory was the
most delightful occupation in the world.
I wrote Jack that I had decided to come
home when the term was out. I filled
long letters with descriptions of the im¬
provements that we could make at the
Falls. We would ran a newspqpe r, I
said. We would call it the Clippings,
and it should combine the interests of
literature and the wool trade. In time
we would go to the Senate.
To these plans, elaborated on many
pages of foolscap, Jack replied with a
loconic “Stop yonr homesick nonsense,
and count your bones when you’ve extra
time.”
Before the three months were over I
became quite contented, and decided
not to go home, “especially if Jack
doesn’t want me,” I thought, feeling a
little injured. So I did not go home till
the summer vacation. Jack appeared to
be in excellent spirits and I went away
feeling that he was having quite the
best of it, and that I was being sacrificed
on the altar of family pride. Since
Jack was having so fine a time I decided
to enjoy my remaining years of martyr¬
dom. As it was before the days of rapid
travel and my long vacation was taken
up with study, I was at home very little.
I remember thinking every suocceeding
vacation that Jack and I resembled each
other less and less. He was getting to
care nothing people. for good clothes looked or for go¬
ing among He common
place and talked like the old men of the
village.
“What a difference education makes in
people,” I thought, as Jack laughed at
my centuries’-old jokes, I cautioned
him now and then against fostering a
love of money for I thought him a bit
close. He always bills, sent me money
enough to pay the but there was
never much margin. The factory was
doing a good business and it seemed to
me that I ought to have more spending
money; laat in college
During my intimate year with I be¬
came very a former chum
whose family was interested staying in Hanover.
In abort I was in my chum’s
sister. My chum decided was studying medi¬
cine. He had to spend two
years in Germany. going, and His he urged mother aud
sister were me to
form one of the party. I was easily per¬
suaded that nothing but two years in
Germany could ever make a successful
practitioner of me. I wrote the same to
Jack along with the request that the
neoessary funds be provided. The an¬
swer came by return mail. “and I
“It’s hard times " he wrote,
cannot get the money.’’
I was angry. Jack was carrying i IS
hoarding a little too far. I sat d own
aud answered his letter in short but
peremptory terms. My letters to J° k
were all short now.
“Yon are forgetting,” I wrote, “th
a pari; of the factorv belongs ’*
Pleas- send, ma tfew .uuuoy soon, t* \
'nave n’6 time to come home for it. We
are to sail directly after Commence¬
ment. ”
I felt uncomfortable after I had
posted the letters, and I wandered un¬
easily about the streets that evening. A
prayer-meeting was going on in one of
tho churches as I passed. I turned back
and went in just in time for the last
hymn. They were singing “There is
rest for the weary.” I sang too, but I
came out a measure or two ahead and so
disturbed a gentleman in the next pew
that he turned around to look at me. I
recognized him then. He was Mr.
Munson, a former business acquaintance he
of my father. After the services
shook hands, smiling, aud asked if I
wasn’t trying to sing him over the Jor¬
dan a little too fast for a doctor. Then
he said he hoped I was going home judg¬ to
Jack soon for he needed rest, anil,
ing by mv singing, I wasu’t in theeast 1
weary. Something followed him in his the tone alarmed ask¬
me arid I up street
ing him questions until, after some hesi¬
tation, he told me the whole story. He
had just returned from the Falls. Jack
had been bleeding at the lungs. He
was in a very weak condition, but would
not let mo know nutil I was through my
studies. A business man told Mr. Mun¬
son privately that the factory had not
belonged to my father since his illness,
and that business troubles had caused
the shock from which he had never ral¬
lied, Jack had known all this from the
first, but had liegged the owners of tin*
mill to keep the matter secret until I
was through college. He had worked
for a salary and had supported the whole
family, keeping me like a prince all the
while I was grumbling.
I started directly for home, reaching
the Falls the next evening. It was
quite late, so I did not arouse the house
but climbed in the window. There was
a light burning in Jack’s room as I wont
safely up stairs and entered. I wish t
could forget the next half honr. Mv
letter lay freshly opened upon the table
aud Jack had commenced a letter to me.
He had written “My Dear Brother,”
the pen was yet in his hand and the ink
was not dry, but he was forever beyond
any letters’or words of mine.
Tt all liapi>eiied years ago. but even
now I would give two years of my life to
have asked Jack’s forgiveness.
A Sad Joke.—A fellow working in a
Maine factory where voting women are
employed contrived a practical joke for
the entertainment of himself and his
admirers. He killed an adder and left
it among some boxes that were to Vie as
sorted by the young women. Miss Ste
vens uuoovered the reptile with her
hands. The shock made her insane, and
the physicians say that she will proha
lily die, and in any event will be a nit
ni*c for life. ‘
The guard of refused an English railway car
nage recently hedgehog to allow a natural
ist to carry a live with him.
The traveler, indignant, pulled a turtle
from his wallet and said: “Take this,
too;” but the guard replied, good-natur
edly: “Ho, no. sir. It’s dogs yon can’t
carry, and dogs dogs, is dogs, cats is is dogs, and
’edgc’ogs is but turtles hinseets,
WORKERS IS STRAW.
Pearl. Wh. Make and Hell Head-Gear Is
MaMachaseUit.
Certain parts of Worcester county and
the western part of Norfolk afford more
than an average number of chances for
the employment of women, and they are
all well improved. In addition to the
mills, stores, printing offices, telegraph
offioes, millinery and dressmaking estab¬
lishments, etc., which are open to fe¬
males in other parts of the State, the
manufacture of straw hats affords a re¬
spectable and pleasant enployment to a
large number. About half of the indus¬
try in the United States is in Massachu¬
setts, and the greater part of this in the
section named above. Six or seven
thousand hands are employed in the
business, probably three-fourths of them
being females. Fifteen employed years ago the
number of people in this
branch of industry in Massachusetts
was over 11,000, 90 per cent, being fe¬
males. Since the general introduction
of straw sewing machines the percentage
of females has been somewhat reduced.
During the past year these manufac¬
tories small prodneed about being 10,000,000 hats,
a proportion the the felts, winding plush and the
velvets. Chi straws
braid for the machines, the sewing,
wiring, lining and trimming, is done by
women. On the other varieties, except,
perhaps, felts, woman’s work is a large
part of the labor required. Where the
girls all come from is a question quite
common from strangers, for although
everybody knows that this State is nu¬
merically great on the woman question the
proportion seems out of reason in a
straw town. Maine furnishes a large
number of a superior class of work-girls.
The towns down East offer few oppor¬
tunities for employment, and the daugh¬
ters of the farmers and the sisters of the
captains and mates of the sailing craft
of that sturdy State come to work in the
straw shop. Many join the ranks of tho
“straw girls,” are industrious and save
money to carry home in the summer,
when the season closes. Others come from
comfortable homes to see a little of the
world beyond their own commonwealth.
A large nnmber come—not for the ob¬
ject of getting a husband—ah, no ! but
that is the result, nevertheless, so that
in “straw towns,” in about half the mar¬
riages, it is safe to assume that the bet¬
ter half or her parents belong in Maine.
About half of the twenty-five or thirty
men engaged considered in the business succeeded in the in sec¬
tion now put
by something enough for worldly a rainy wealth day—
some of them of
for quite a heavy rain. In several cases
this condition has been reached, either
by luck or pluck, from very small be¬
ginnings. One whose possessions hundreds now
are estimated among the of
thousands started some twenty years
ago with less than a thousand dollars.
Another opened Middle his business with career in a
city of the States a kit of
tools or renovating old straw hats and a
capital of $96. Things are different
with him now.
Another began life in a straw factory
in a subordinate position, won the good
will of the proprietor, was taken into
partnership, and to-day is at the head
4 one ef (lie large concerns fir the State
and thousands. wish a'ifaiiie g553~onTsCpetfSi lenff
of
These are some of those regarded as
successful in business. Of course there
are examples of failure also, men who
have made and lost and others who
seem destined to win little in the pur¬
suit of riches unless in the belter direc¬
tion of “laying up treasures in heaven.”
—Boston Globe.
URIAH BEYNOLADS EDERSON BRICK.
Up in Burton, New Hampshire, lived a
family of Bricks. Mrs. Uriah Mary Brick Brick was the
the father and
mother, and excellent people they were.
As the oldest boy grew up bright and
intelligent, the father, who bail
done well in the way of raising aud
selling cattle, determined to give him a
collegiate education, aud to that end the
lad was sent over to Fryeburg Academy,
not many miles distant, there to receive
the necessary educational rudiments.
The youthful Uriah was received and
accepted by the principal, aud on the
following day he made his appearance
in the class taught by Professor Swan.
“Ah ! young gentleman,” said the
professor, looking mildly through his
gold-bowed glasses upon the new-comer.
“This is your first appearance in my
class ?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What is your name ?”
“Yon are a brick !” the youth deliber¬
ately enunciated. There could be no
mistake. His language was plain.
“What, sir!” cried the professor,
aghast. “Will you repeat those words ?”
“You are a brick slowly and em¬
phatically. soul, this is
“Upon my Yon young man, be in
too monstrous! cannot pos¬
session of your senses. ”
“How, sir?” stammered Uriah, Jr.,
at a loss to understand. “Have I
offended ?”
“Offended ! Have you not grossly in¬
sulted me?”
“Insultedyou? I certainly did not
mean it.”
“Did you not tell me that I was a
brick ?”
A gleam of intelligence and relief
beamed upon the youth’s ruddy face.
“Ah, sir,” he said. “I understand the
mistake. You asked me my name. It
is a long one, and I only gave the initials
of my baptismal appellatives. My name
in full is Uriah Reynolds Anderson
Brick.” .
“Ah—’urn—yes,” muttered the pro¬
fessor, while he mentally calculated the
measure and souud of those initials.
“Yea, ves_I see. Well—U—ah—Mr.
Brick—we will go on with onr lesson.”
But that lesson was not a very profit
a ble one for the class,
It is said by Mr. Eaton, of the Civil
Service Commission, that the work of
preparing rules to govern promotions in
the executive departments will probably
occupy the commission for some time
after its meeting shall in September. When
the rales have been formulated
they will be submitted to the President
and the Cabinet for approval, as were ad
the rates governing examinations for
mission to the Department,
JDDGE LYNCH AT HOME.
A WAV THEY HAVE OF DOING THINGS
OCT WEST.
A Vivid DeiK-rfptfen of the fin who
pone a L.ynchlnir Party—They Ao the
Work Klleotlv ond With Determination.
{From the Detroit Free Press.]
Yon may have seen a street riot. That
is simply the outer circles of a whirlpool.
A shower of brick-bats—a surge up and
down—a dozen broken head?—a cry of
"police?” and your crowd scatters like
sheep, and slinks away like curs.
A mob-Bets out to resist the authori¬
ties. Nine out of every ten men in it
are cowards They boast and brag and
encourage, but they keep their own
bodies in the back ground. They want
to see someone hurt, but they know that
law will triumph, and they want to be
able to prove that they were simply walk
lookers-on. One brave man will
into a mob and defy and over-awe it.
w ****** *
A brutal outrage has been committed.
It is an affair that stirs the blood of sons
and brothers and brings a dangerous
light to the eyes of husbands and fathers.
There is no boasting or Bhouting. Knots
of men gather here and there, and they
speak with fierce earnestness, but in
low voices. No mob surges up and
down—no wild yells rend the air—no
cowards furnish drink to excite young
men to foolish deeds.
“Lynch him!”
It is not shouted, but spoken in whis¬
pers or read in each other’s eyes. Every
man has obeyed the laws—every man
would peril his life in aiding to enforce
them, bat there is a feeling that legal
punishment does not always punish suf¬
ficiently. him 1”
“Lynch who partake of
When men never a
meal without bowing the head in prayer
whisper those words, look out! The
heart burns and thrills. For the time
being law is nothing. Fathers whisper
it to sons, brothers to each other, mer¬
chants to mechanics. Lips tighten and
grow pole, teeth shut close, eyes flash
as you never saw them before.
The knots of men swell into groups—
the groups consolidate into a crowd.
The leader takes his place, and instinc¬
tively the crowd realize that he is the
proper person. Speeches and orations
are not in order—ropes are!
See now! Teeth shat tighter as the
crowd moves. Not a man would turn
back from a loaded cannon. It moves
ahead, but it swirls and hisses and gur¬
gles like a river vexed by rocks. It is
the whispers—the quick answers—the
pale faces—which tell yon what danger
lurks in the crowd.. A fall noisy crowd can
be scattered. It will to pieces of
itself. A silent body of men will take
your life if every man has to peril his
own.
It is the jail. Key or no The key, the
prisoner must come out. crcwd
would have him if a score of grated
doors had to be battered down. He does
not plead for mercy. One look around
him tells him that his life is hungered
for with suoh intensity that prayers
would be mockery. He may look up at
the harvest moon and star-studded
heavem^but awed <1* - by aces the jrothingey grim silence He of is
dazed and
tho band.
“Halt 1”
No voice commands, but here is the
tree. The whirlpool stands little still whiter, for a
moment. Faces grow a dogged
but the eyes of every man show a
determination that would blaze into des
^ration if opposed. The noose is rapid •
ly adjusted, there is a falling back, and
with a groan of terror and despair trem¬
bling on his lips the guilty wretch swings
in the air. The creak of the limb—the
calls of a night bird—the deep breathing
of men—are plainly heard as the body
swings to and fro or turns round anil
round as the death struggle goes on.
It is morning. Merchants are behind
their counters, mechanics at the bench,
sons at school. There is no sign that
last night was not one again, of tranquility and
peace. Men speak women and
children laugh as they walk abroad—the
cyclone has passed. The jail doom are
being repaired—the tree no longer holds
a corpse, aud a stranger would look upon
this face and that and whisper to him¬
self:
“What good-nature I see in every
line of their countenances! They are
obedient to law and enforce the best o\
order.”
Eiots are the work of demagogues and
boasters. Mobs are created by cowards.
When men turn out with shut teeth and
whispered voices to take the law into
their own bauds, Judge Lynch has
opened court and sentenced a man to die.
What Barbers Earn.
A barber in a prominent hotel said to
a reporter who had noticed the frequent
“tips” that he received: “We don’t
make as much as you thiuk we do. The
pay in the best hotels is $2 a day, and
we get from $1 to $1.50 extra in fees.
Sunday work earns us oar days off.
How many customers a day? About
thirty, averaging up the time taken to
cut hair, shampoo, etc. No, we have no
brotherhood or association, We had
one a few years ago, but it came to an
end. Pay ns ever to strike? Hardly.
Hundreds of men would be ready to we’re fill
mv place within a day. Sometimes
called to private residences. Then we
get 50 cents a shave, at times $1. We
have to furnish onr own tools—razors,
scissors, etc.—and that costs about $5 a
month, outside of the $50 capital neces
sary to start us. Of course every good
barber has his regular customers, but it
wouldn’t few” pay to start a shop of your
own, as of these customers would
follow yon; thev get used to a plaee,
you see, and dislike to change. Why is
a shampoo charged 40 40 cents ? Well, when a
‘hair-cut’ is also cents we
don’t make much on the ‘hair-cut,’ and
so we even it up on the shampoo.”
In one chapter —Boy—melon—shady ! all
spot—secluded nook —yum ! yum
gone—boy sighs—colic comes—boy howls
—mother scares—father jaws—doctor
comes—colic goes—boy well—wants
more—(notice of funeral hereafter).—
Detroit Free Press.
HOMEWARD BOUND.
war THEY WERE TRAVELING TO¬
WARD MAINE.
An Axed Con**e Leaving Utah Behind
Them ai Foot no Two Horae* Can Carry
Them.
A letter York from Cleveland, Two Ohio, to the
New Sun, says: dust-covered
horses, a covered wagon containing a
man and a woman, with a long rope, to
which was attached an aged yellow dog,
appeared on the dark streets here recently.
The man was and swarthy, with a
white beard and long flowing liair. The
woman was dressed in a faded calico,
her skin was as dark as her husband’s,
and her face was covered with wrinkles.
“My husband, name is Sarah Stafford, and this
is my Timothy Stafford,” said
the woman. “We lives, or at least we
used to live, twenty-eight miles from
Portland, State of Maine. For four
years we’ve been galavantin' about out
West, and are now on our way home,
thankful that we’ve had our lives pre¬
served, for we’ve been in some almighty
tight places, and several times looked
death in the face.”
Mrs. Stafford lighted a little black
tinued: pipe, and after pulling vigorously, con¬
“We don’t look like Mormons, do we?
Well, we ain’t Mormons any more, but
we once was. The fools ain’t all dead
yet, which accounts for our bein’ here
to-day. You see, my Timothy was al¬
ways susceptible, and I had to do this,
that, and the other thing if I wanted to
live with him in peace. Well, one day
while he was cuttin’ grass in the meader
a leanish man with an awful oily tongue
came along and asked him to join the
Mormons.
“Now, so far as I was concerned, I
hated Mormons wus than I did pizen*
but when Timothy brought the man to
the house, and he talked so good and
kind like to me and called me his dear
Sister Stafford, I sorter warmed up to
him and listened to what he said. Oh, he
painted an awful pretty picture of Utah,
where all was love and happiness, and
where there was no backbitin’ or slander.
He read to us from his Bible and prayed
and seemed so good that Timothy here
was actually struck, while I—well, I
guess I was a little bit struck too.
“Well, to make a long and story short, as
the sayin’ is, Timothy I were per¬
suaded to sell our farm and go to Utah.
We got there in time and was welcomed
by the Mormon Chur-h. The deacons
and other big guns made a great fuss
over Timothy, while the women looked
after me. One old fellow with a long
neck and a crooked leg said we must buy
a farm at once and prepare for great re¬
sponsibilities. He then winked kind of
mysterious Timothy like at allowed Timothy that and went
away. he meant
to elect him to some high office in the
Church, but I told him office didn’t bring
in bread and butter, eo I guessed we’d
postpone buyin’ the farm till we found
out how we liked the community. So
we rented a small house near the town,
and held on to our cash. I’d been a
scrapin’ and diggin’ tor nigh onto thirty
years, and didn’t propose toget swindled
“Well, after we’rffcin tliere £%hila,
along comes a squad of the deacons,
who looked pious and resigned like, and
said that Timothy ought to take another
wife, a young woman who could be a
daughter to me, and comfort my declin¬
ing years. Well, wouldn’t sir, if have they’d been shot me
down there I more
surprised. After I bad collected my
thoughts a little bit I went into the
kitchen, and got a pot of bilin’ water,
and then I sailed into them deacons.
Scatter ! you better believe they did. I
thought they’d break their pious The necks
tryin’ to get over the fence. gate
was too small like for ’em, hurricane, and they picked went
down the road a i
up a rake and went after ’em, and if I
didn’t baste the hindermost my name
ain’t Sarah Stafford. I’ll warrant there
wasn’t two inches of sound hide left on.
him. When I got back to the house I
found Timothy in a terrible rage. He
said I didn’t have his pleasure or com¬
fort at heart, and that I didn’t love him.
like I used to in Maine. He even told
me that I was a-gettin’ too old for him,
and he ought to have a young wife if he
was goin’ to be a liighcockalorum in the
Church. Well, sir, when he told me
‘hat I used the rake on him.”___
~ Stafford attempted to speak at
Mr,
this juncture, but his wife shut him up
with one decided look and continued:
“He don’t like to hear what a fool he
was among them Mormons. Now, I
could have married the long-necked
deacon I spoke of a short time ago, but
Timothy had been my mainstay and
guide for thirty year and I was satisfied.
It made me terrible mad, though, to hear
him jabberin’ about a young wife, jest
as if I warn’t good ’nough for him. But
I took him by the hand and left the
country. We walked until mornin’ and
put up at a farm house. I bought them
horses and that wagon of the farmer,
and kivered the wagon myself-witli travelin’ mus¬ to
lin. Since then we’ve been
wai’d Maine as fast as them critters will
carry us, and when we git there we 11
never leave again until they carry us out
feet first. So there, young man, is our
story. It’s as true as gospel, and if it’ll
teach any old fools in this country and to
stay at home, mind their business,
let the Mormons alone, you can print it
in your paper, although I’d awfully hate
mv old neighbors down in Maine to see
11 yel¬
Mrs. Stafford, with her Timothy, the
low dog, and jaded horses, left for
East,
The Cost of Transportation.— a
statistician recently estimated that the
total movement of freight on all the
railroads of the United States equalled
39,302,209,249 tons moved one mde, and
the average charge of transportation
was one and two-tenths cents per mile,
He also estimated that the aggregate
value of the total tonnagemovedin that
year was not less than $22,000,000,OOOj. this
and, if anything, more than sum.
The meanness of this world is helped
on bv doing unto others as you think
they’would do unto you if they had a
chance.