Funding for the digitization of this title was provided by R.J. Taylor, Jr. Foundation.
About Crawfordville democrat. (Crawfordville, Ga.) 1881-1893 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 12, 1884)
CRAWFORD VILLE. GEORGIA. THEY WORKED THE CANDIDATE. ktunlimlnt lor Alifcrrtinfl. He IVlike, fa a J*«»hr<‘ Mtntioii. “Patrick Lefoe,” said Justice Duffy, drunk at the Tombs, “how did you come to get ?” “I’m a caudidatc for cilice, sir,” was his answer. “For wlmt position ?” “Alderman. J wus nominated l>y the People's party. J asked for live min¬ utes' delay before I gave my word of acceptance. I tan home to my wife. ‘Kate,’ says 1, ‘if I get to be an Aid* r man it will be the making of me. We can afford to live on Fifth avenue. Now answer me truthfully, was there any one one in your family ever arrested for a teaming ? If to, let, me. know right away, or ff will lie out in the papers and we will be disgraced. But if you say not, f will go ahead aud lw elected.’ She said ‘no,’ and I ran hack to the hall, aud ac¬ cepted tbo nomination, and then” (« Well ?” “I threw a twenty-dollar and on the coun ter in tlio bar-room I said, ‘Refuse no one a drink.’ started to go out when I was accosted by a committee of young men, who asked mo to purchase tickets for a benefit. They and claimed to repre¬ sent 600 voters, I purchased $10 worth of tickets. Then committees from four pleasure clubs, representing each 100 voters, asked mo to buy tickets for their annual Imll, and I took $10 worth from cnoli, Ni xt cumo a big fel¬ low who seized me by the shoulder aud said, •! want to talk with you. I’m the man who runs this district, and yon can’t bo elected unless you are solid with rue. You want to fix me, to got the boys la your favor; say $‘200, that will do now until I seo you again.' 1 then sneaked into the yard up the stairs to the roof, then climbed over several buildings and made my way on the street and went home.” “You haven’t explained to mo yet how y, t canto to lie arrested ?” Well, hold on; I’m coming to it now. No sooner dnl I get honfo when a brass band appeared before my door and sere¬ naded me. 1 went on the stoop and made a speech, after which I went with them to a saloon and put up the drinks again. This time 1 began to drink and I got pretty full. A man, whom lam now informed is a swindler, came up to mo and said: *1 hear you want to bo elected. Here’s a chance for you, A woman with three children will lie dis¬ possessed, and if you do the right thing the district will go wild over yon. 1 gave him $25 and then J was informed of the man’s character. I became so disgusted that 1 drank more add this morning I awoke to find my mu* in a station-house,” , Ho was discharged, and us he went out he was heard muttering: “I’m sick sire fv of the whole business. ff tj$ life* Soule fntliau Gills. AT THE aoVEllNMBNT SCHOOL AT PENNSYLVANIA, As an example of their stoicism, it m said that iliiriug Indian a fight with our concealed trooupif iu the west, on women her little girl in a barrel, telling her to remain perfectly quiet, whutevef child' Bap pencil. After the battle the was found with !u;r arm shattered by a mime ball—but she had uttered no sound. Their distrust of the whites is as char¬ acteristic as their self-control. One of the little girl# at the school; who retains her Indian name, IvostseG, hours fright¬ ful souis from wounds indicted by vil- her mother with a sharp stone, Their luge had been taken by United States soldiers, aud rather than have her child fall into thi> hands of the white men, the rim suehfflilnTO U i ‘!mpri5r£ note h.m quickie they.mug Indians show appreciation of what is done for them. and the intelligence and uffeeliou which liiilit thru black eves as they return the guHifings of the nbble women who leach ' th Vi ri Mmv the tile names of these children, esiH'ohdly of girls, sound oddly, for it is ooimuou tor them to <>hoo.-e Chris Uau names of their own, while retaining their fathers’ names for the sake of fant ilv distinction. This gives rise to such qiUH»r oorabinationH as lsaliella Two Di*gs.K’.ttv White-Bird, Maud Chief Kill i r, Gertrude White-Cloud, Maggie Amer i<mu-Horse, Anna Laura Bliooring-Unt, Alice Lone-Bear, Hattie Lone-Wolf, SuJIh OlmNiug-lIauk, and Hath liig ll end. These girls imitative. are neat Some in their of habits, bright, and faces aud could them have very pretty readily be mistakeu for white children; the faces of otln rs newer arrivals, have a sadness and vacanev of t xpramioa Yet those due te privation and suffering. luces we are told, are not so sad as were some others which now quiver with in telligeuce and feeling. — St. Nicholas for October. Kansas City’s Baseball Club. I The Ivanas City lime* thus refers to its local club. Its compliments must las highly satisfactory to the boys:—The K. C. I>. l’>. C. sustained its reputation iu Baltimore Saturday. The club has not won a game on the trip. It was not organised tor that purjawe. It was de signed merely as a pudding for other eluUs. It is carrying out that lofty idea, They say oar boys cannot bat. That is ao. They caunot bat a baseball, V'ut thev can bat around nights to the queen’s taste. Turn them out aud let’s FO buck to tw void-cat. ‘ — - A General’s Laugh. ~ Get:. Sherman went to the circus :?i 8f. Luniis tbeotlw afternoon, hghtful and enjoyed it after his de manner describe exceedingly. how he' laughed A rejxsrter Ties to at he antics of the downs. “He starts a,” s»_vs this reporter, “ou a mouthful f wind, which he semi-gutters! expands in three or our short, jerky, aspira ions. It has a Scotch sound, some thing like ‘Eh, keek 1 heeh 1 hech !’ the *e’ having its short, fiat sound, as in the word ‘get’ He gives ‘e - pretty much the same sonnd iu such words as ‘here, ‘there.’and’where.’” TJ1E MAN AT THE WHEEL. BY FRANCIS llOAAED WILLIAMS. Hie son went down, out came the stars; T'n*. steamboat Neptune held her way In middle stream, between t .e bars, Straight down the river to the hay, And as tlio engine toiled and panted. The deck-hands lolled at ease aijd chanted A quaint and carious roundelay. Tom Simpson, in the engine room, Was ( halting with a grimy mate Who watched the Kauge, while, like a loom, The pistons moved at even rate, Impelled os by a law appalling, Forever rising—ever falling, Un pausing as the hand of Fate. When suddenly the pilot's bell Hounded a solitary stroke; It echoed like a funeral knell, Ho unexpectedly it broke Tfpi.ii their talk, upon their laughter, To in said: “Now, what's the old man after? Slow her down, Jim—or is’t a joke?” “Joke or no joke, I’ll slow her down,” Answered the grimy engineer; “.Inst skip above and ask old Brown What ails him; it is 'tarnal queer, On Hiich a night, too, ch ar as crystal; i jumped as though I d heard a pistol A-tired off agon my ear.” Tom Him;won turned upon his heel And sought the pilot; brown gat there, Ills wrinkled hands upon the wheel,— Tbo breeze blown through his silvered hair. “Hollo ! old grand-dad, whit's the matter ye’re makin’ all this blasted clatter • When everything is calm and. fair ?” ‘The mist 1 the mistthe pilot cried, “The river’s thick,—lease off the steam.” “What mist, old lunkhead?” Tom replied; “The night is clear, you do but dream; Wake up, old man.” With sudden ahiver The pilot pointed down the riven— “The mist is heavy oa the stream.” “Now dash my buttons ! here's a case,” Tom growled; aud then, in queer surprise, He looked bard in tile old man's face— And saw the mist there in his eyes. “Kk, what’s this, mate? house up, old fel¬ low.” —The moon shone on him soft and no chow, I,ike some far gleam of 1‘aiatjbc, , “Rouse up! I'll cull the Cap'n, Brown; Ton are not well; hold up your head.” i; Still ominously pointing itown The river: “Hoc the iui|t!’’ he said. “Sly God ! h«’s djin’," Tom taw mattered. — “Tin- miBt'twus the iastwoi d he fittere<i, Hie bell hail rung; -old Brown was dead. —Every Other FMunUry. ■s» Two e>l‘ Them. Kate Goldie and I were great friends, in spite Of the difference in our post tions; she being Fanner Goldie’s only daughter, mid I the only child of the rector of the same little sea-bounded village. Wo had grown up from baby hood, knit together by ttye similarity of our ebon instances -Bbth the saint' age, both motherless, both only daughters of dot ing fathers, to ' li ra we were equally i t “Whnt i« the waiter? I cried, , as _ I approached her one day. “NotHi, is the matter; I was but rug, and I want your advice, Miss SUOe. You see,” sho began, "they wauls to warty me, and I don’t . lake. 1 thinking know, which to was ftbout it wlpjti you canto up.” “Bid trim are ‘they’?” 1 asked, “are Hhey’Jint Taylor and Walter Butler, for tf »<>”—— it’s "No," sadly, “not Walter Butler; Jim Taylor and David Wardour,” “But, Kite, you puzzle me. I thought,” iu a low voice, “1 always fan cied that it was Walter”- “I was not speaking A myself, but of them. Jim Taylor aud David Wardour; which shall it be?” I withdrew my anu from hers m a transport of righteous indignation, "1 don’t understand you,” 1 cried; “whr should it be cither, when yon care Tl Wl,s }“* ,n f 1“ ^ indignant now; #h« tnnietl round on mo fiercely do ‘Walter. Walter, she said; “why keep on tuhnig et him? Ah! with something that almost sounded like a sob “how stupid you are 1" "Then you had hotter not ask my au vice,” I answered, highly offended. But she did not heed me. “-Miss t iorenee, she continued “what 1 wants to know is this: Which is the richest of the two, and which is t j H , kindest-hearted. Mr. Bowles has known Injihever so long: Lave jou heard him sav?” jjut. j was to indignant too answer her question. loftily, *1 ashamed ‘•Kate,” I said, * am wonld 0 f 1 never thought that you look, at matrimony in this spirit; it’s ,. t iite shocking. Which is the richest, j u ff w »d 1 Oh ! it is horrible; it ought to ^ of of ... whieh 11(1 question money; only you-y< u-love the best. I never thought yon wonld be so worldly. ^ “M»» Florence, you are a giswe, was unmannerly rejoinder as she walked away from me toward her home, leaving me still with an expression of conscious virfue depicted on my counte nance. During the days that ensued I saw nothing of Kate, and by old degrees friends it dawned on me that we two were indulging iu the folly of a quarrel. f w .is, however, sincerely disgusted with her, and uiy disgust was increased when, H fow davs after I met her in the corn field, my father announced to me that he had heard in the village, that she was engaged to be marries! to Jnn Taylor. 'mid must go this afternoon con gratulate h«. Flo.” he concluded,- quite . hat . lv, , ‘° - - 1 , speaking ““TV* terms. Unt this suite of things « could not continue, so 1 took Iris advice a ud went down to Hawthorn Farm, iu the afternoon, to offer my congratula tions and tacitly cry Pax.' ill, with dark I found Kate looking rings round her evee, and by bo means the blushing bride-elect. She received my congratulatiooa very calmly. “He is here.” she said; “I will call him. Jim, come here aud speak to Miss Floren-re. He is shelling peas for me,” she continued; "I always make him use ful—1 can't abide idle fellows.” t began to feel rather sorry for Jim. He came in, however, anything but - ^’’’^y'Jrp'h’ntas'hewM aS iishing fly nn comfortable in my pre| ice,3Satts soon dismissed him to the f \a\v. i, and resumed her conversation, fie a ras far more talkative than usual, be rgas a rule rather silent. > “Yes,” she continued, “werhall marry very soon, so as to be well settled down before harvest time; going for you know , Miss Florence, we are to Jive hei 'e and manage the farm. Father i§ getti: ig old, and he worries himself to death about things, so now Jim and I will dor it all, and—Jim has plenty of capital’’ —defi¬ antly. “Oh, yes, it is all very nice,” I an¬ swered, somewhat sarcastically, 'and I am sure Jim is a good fellow,” I added more warmly; “he looks it.” “Ob, he is very well;” then more brightly, “I’ll tell you what he i , Miss Florence; he is a right-dowr good farmer, and that is what we want!here.’ “I am very glad to hear it.’f I an¬ swered, and very shortly after to'pk my leave. There was a constraint about us both that made the and interview I pleased—al¬ anything hut satisfactory, was most for the first time in my life—to leave sweet Hawthorn Farm, where I had always been so happy. There was a sad alteration in it sinde days when I used to go there in Kate’s holi day-time, and eat strawberries or cake, according to the season of the year: then everything about the place had been bright and prosperous; now all spoke of want of money. True, it was as tidy as, uuder the circumstances, it could be, but it was a shabby, poverty stricken tidiness compared to 1 10 old days of spick-and-span neatness which it was to bo hoped Jim’s capital might restore. As I walked through the village street toward home whom should I encounter but Walter Butler ? He was sauntering along with his hands in his pockets, whistling loudly and looking aiything but the lovesick swain. For tie first time, good looking as he was, hit coun¬ tenance repelled mo. aud involuntarily I contrasted it with Jim’s straightfor ward, ingonuous face. How idle he •looked too ! Surely he could nut again have left his place. When las. I had scon him he had been keeper to Mr. Groves, about three miles inland' “Good evening, Walter,” I sail. “Good evening, miss.” holiday ! “Are yon coma homo for a ?” I continued. “I’ve left Mr. Groves,” he aiswereu somewhat defiantly. replld. “I'm sorry for that,” I “I am afraid you arc rather a; rolling stono. “I am not a-going to stay in k place almost almost where 7”'"““ I impertinently. import am not meaty. trusted, —-v.. Thig*o Th ” ” her£j|onded, Ivite Goldie Gm"u tier ‘'.‘‘V how 10 '' is is : Jim T going going '.“ Taylor Ta to to J 1( Ire bo > r mt miu^H^ w; w,^^^Keeping won that that old bid father father of of hers won’t won 1 make make much mm, ‘ out olu of !ls he he has lias had had nothing nothing put put in these* many uituiv “That years years past.” jnist. is la his affair "Good "Goo,, , evening, evening, . Walter \\ altcu , -3U Hi* ‘ weeks late Kate fr GoldieJim a fD or 7; n ’ mm le “ nu 7;, '® ln t “° little village church , mmd, . Kate lookifd beautiful. l«8ynple white er than dress her ana ordmurily bonnet rathj»rt becai^B'The,- at tire, proven!out and her unusual o her palloi^^»ui Lie pair ini went straight home to HawMBFarm, aud began the business o fflWttmoe. I ;;0 whole affair seemed sacfjy lacking iu tomanee, Allthis time Waiter retmined j. yd .... ling abeu, bugs iue haymaauig, village, picking harvesting fp a f<wshil at etc., Go,, aud haunting ujwfhorti AM as soon ns ever Mr. and Mrs. Tnylof were settled ho homo there. and He preset wjnld las stroil hatdsome ftp to iuco lit the kitchen uiiilow, wlier) Kate would linking, be or busy be, wouloMk withler^cooking boldly hr n and her offer to help her wi«i anything inwhich Bhe'-o*omiiloyed. JOa some.vrSextor other ho was nedr long absett, aud soon about my father tolaay ligan to he rook fearet grave that ,t and and W alter that Butler tlio villa wajiot J people up to were muei hegm- good ning to talk I . Iu those days Ifdten i* used to g> and see Kate and alw found her busy and industrious, but frith a haggm, wor tied have look been m her the*, fca for that her ought affairs not were to one, looking Jim up worke# thfiiaiTrst like two was men, e fences good were repaired, Jpie Lanas were (aken <*;, m»e#>ery bought, anr. alto gethoi resembltfse Ilawthwi r arm began G Jear a faint to its forme: self. J happy, Jim ^ r0 f e » an ^ (> attentive °> ^ as aid ro¬ H K °ttu* »on-i*hrw, ana it seeinsa to miJ oxec» that her husband was t°° soft, as sM otea said to mt, Kate had nothing ■complain of. Oue atteruAi when I strolled uv_there I f ouu d, to nf annoyance, Walter But¬ ler, with a paf>r, pi> in his mouth, Kate sitting in the best while sat iu the window meiJng. *y I at once etimed my displeasure saying, with narked coldness; “1 will stay, Kate, as I see you are occupied’ and I was about tt with ffraw whenfre te. flung down her tnkk and oaxne«after “Oh, Muf wJ Florence, do stay—dejstay 1” There a ring of entreaty n her voice that Fuck tne, and I turned round again. .,t •» r answered “if Valtei p u tle r is shL’t Itiiie there smoking ” "He sit there—he shall ao.” “I thohlht ^&T that voa could ^ntinmxi not abide ia msWoualv sorne whst "list maJmousiy. ;No ^ „ , " • "l^ate them! Oh, 1 hate tiem! ^j* 8 f ^ ioB ’ “ !ls s he < r> l ; lated , ,hese word9 P UB J , me did made , me at , once go bac& with her We found Walter still oung iug on tie pretty chintz-covered sofa, but my weeence seemed to make Kate brave,' anl she said to him; “Nowjust you go about your b nines?, Walter, and take your naBty pipe out of this rw* when Miss I iorenoe is curing ini" 3e it.’j r#e sulkily enough. "Ojfrby, Kate,” he said pa reals i#giy, #ade me a surly salute, a ni was afrom © leave the room, when Jut came red-faced, (ht/onair as usual. Sot so debf/nair , though, that he could not shoot a giauoa of auger ami contempt at Walter Butier. “What are you a-doing here?” he asked, aud then turned, alter greeting me, to Kate. “My dear,”he said gentJy, “I warns my tea early tc-day.” I stayed and had tea with them, and was more than ever struck by Jim's gen¬ tleness and goodness to his wife aud his innate good-breeding. I began to think Kate had married well alter ail, Her maimer toward him was singular Jy variable. One minute it was cold, the next warm; it was contemptuous, yet at times respectful—altogether a riddle. “What a good husband you have, Kate !” I remarked, as he left the room to return to his work. “Yes,” she answered, “he is well enough—he is very good to father and me—that I can’t deny—but he’s not much of a man,Tshe added, with some contempt. “When you marry, Miss FJorence, marry a man as will look after y OU /« “Why, Kate, Jim is always thinking of you. I should not have thought that you, who are so very independent, cared to be looked after so much.” “You are not married, Miss Florence. You don’t understand,” and with this, for me, rather humiliating remark the conversation ceased. It was a few weeks after this that Jim proved himself the man in the sense I could not understand, in so satisfactory a manner that he and Kate have been the happiest of couples ever since. Kate herself told me all about it in a moment of expansion, followingimmediately after the event. It seemed that one day when Walter was lounging about her while she was busy in her kitchen-garden, Jim came in very quietiy—he was always quiet—at an hour when he was usually out in the fields, with a heavy carter’s whip iD hand. He walked up to Walter. “Now," said he, quite calmly, “I wants to know what business you always have here, prowling about my wife ? If ever I catch you in this here garden or house again I will lay this”—holding up the whip—“about your shoulders; so now you had better be gone.” Walter stared in amazement at the quiet, fair-haired man. “You oaf, you,” he said. “An oaf, am I?”said Jim, “Then take this, ” and gave him a smart cut with the whip. Witli a cry of rage Walter tried to spring on him, but Jim kept his head and eluded him. “Don’t try that,” he said, “or you will get the worst of it,” and once more he raised the whip menacingly. “Kate, go in,” he said with a ring of authority in kis voice site had never heard there before, but she did not stir, How could she, when love and admira¬ Don for her husband were surging through her veins, and her heart was beating so that she could not move ? For one minute the two men stood cve j n g each other, and then lithe and active Jim had seized Walter round the waist and thrown him to the ground, There was a cry of jov, of pride, and .. 01l jj ni t i am so „\b.A !” Ho looked at her wonderingly, but did not an(gwer for Walter, with au evil whito faoe> had rig en t0 jp s f ce t, and fluffing £ his desoised antagonist too much for hi W as preparing to beat an undig ni fi e ff re t re at. The sight of Kate, cliug illg f to her husband’s arm, seemed too m K . h for hi He sUook his fl st) speeeii Jo8g with fury> nt them ll0 , h( then slow j y withdrew, turning round from time to time to repeat the gesture. But Kate au( j j ler ] 1U sband had entered the house, j le miitq calm and quiet again, a fact xv-liitiL impressed his wife with his strength of both bodv and mind not a “Did j you sav vou were glad, Kitty?” he (iske( incredulously. “Oh! so pdad. Jim, I have been so miserable. He would come heredity after <jav, and reproach me aud with having hdlnve d badly ■ to him, say • that i bo , I had, , but after 1 ^ had lo said ‘yes h™. he coo ed ° ! > ^ L am neve c i u rni, T sore and angry, and when he went away to Mr. Groves without a word to me, 1 vowed I would have notuing more to say to him. It was just about that time that poor father lost so much money, and when yon came and asked me to marry you, I thought as how you were ril '“\Vsf "ves, I know all about that, tell me how Walter persecuted you ? I business.° 0U I and hesitatingly, “that yon liked him to C °“And I thought,” with downcast eyes, “that you were not—not—man enough, Jim, aud I was angry that yon did not show more spirit, and I said to myself, ‘you were but a poor thing.’ But now,” with a glow of pride, “I know dif¬ ferently, and oh ! I am so glad he is * He is bad he is.” gone. a man, Jim drew her to him and kissed her. “He is a bad ’un, Kate, and do you know why he became so cool and dis¬ tant to you after asking you to marry him ? Because he found out that’affairs here were in a bail way and that you would have uncommonly little money, instead of a great deal, as lie fancied. Don’t you thick you are well rid of him for a husband ?” “I do, Jim: indeed, I do—and, Jim, I have always been a good wife to you al¬ though I did marry you because yon were rich and would let father live with ns, but now”—in a whisper—“you know—yes, von know ’— the storv to me. She is a comely children ma tron now, with half a dozen about her. I am still Miss Florence, not haviDg vet found the man equal to looking after me. AN EXALTED POSITION. “Is not your son a jailor?” asked one New York iadv of anotlier. “Y-e-s, he is a jailor; but you must remember he is a jailor in Ludlow Street Jail, and Ferdinand Ward and some of the most respectable people of New York are in that jail”— TexasSi/t ingt. A WIDOWS THANKSGIVING HEI! COODS !»KIZEI> FOR HE INC IN AHltBAKS WITH HfcJt KENT. now six »;««d Hoys went to uniu nod i*arlied fCiiautsh «o Clear the Claim and Fre»enied lief a ileceipt on Thanksgiv¬ ing 3foruiiig. Seized and taken in execution as the property of Mrs. Catharine N- and wili ‘ be sold for cash by William Ward, Constable. .< It - 8 up> hoys\ t i, ere jt is in black an j w hite,” spoke Harry Edwards to bis five companions who stood reading the above notice of saie. “Yes,” answered Al. Penrose, “and I think it a downright shame for a rich man like Mr, Bowser to distress a poor widow.” ‘‘Well, bSys,” interposed Harry, “she’s an honest, hardworking woman, I move we help her out of the diffi culty.” “Agreed,” the unanimous was re- spouse, “But how shall we proceed ?’ mterro fmted Al. “By subscriptions from the town folks,” suggested Willie Parker. “No, that will not do,” quickly re Bpouded Harry. “Let us be inde¬ pendent of the people. Let me see,” he continued meditatively, “the sale will take place the day after Thanksgiving. Suppose we go to work for some of the farmers at a cheap rate and cancel the execution in the constable’s hands and present her with the receipt on Thanks¬ giving morning.” “Hurrah ! that’s a grand idea!” chorused the boys. “Tnere are six of us, and I am told the amount of rent arrearage is but four dollars,” continued Harry. “Now, if we can succeed in prevailing upon some farmer to give us work until that amount is earned we can satisfy the execution and have two dollars for her to buy a few necessary articles.” “Let’s call on Farmer Adkins,” said Willie, “perhaps he can find something for us to do.” “To Farmer Adkins then we go!” Ihey said. They found the old farmer in the barn along with one of his colored men, busily engaged in shelling corn. The six boys crowded into the barn without the formalities of an introduction. Farmer Adkins put down his basket of corn, adjusted his spectacles and frowned upon the bovs. “Well, you young rogues,” he gruffly spoke, “you’ve stole my apples, and now I presume yon have the impudence to come and ask for bags to take them home in 1” This speech and the manner of his re¬ ception somewhat chilled the benevolent enthusiasm of the boys. “No, sir,” slowly and nervously re¬ sponded Harry. “We do not ask for apples. We come upon an errand of mercy, and invoke your assistance.” “Why, bless me,” said the farmer, in surprise, “the world grows stranger every day. What can you mean ?” “Why, just this,” resumed Harry. “Mr. Bowser has levied upon the goods .body of the else widow/Sjj^g-. inJfl^^Bage You knows and herjto. every- be an honest, CliiKvWi woman. But afflic¬ tion has overtaken her, aud she is un¬ able to help herself. Now, we propose to relieve her distress on Thanksgiving We Day. We have Dot come to beg. do not solicit donations. We came for work.” “Work! why bless you, children, there’s not much work about a farm in winter time; but hold on a minute,” spoke up the old farmer briskly. “I kind of admire your spirit, and I know the widow to be an honest woman, as you say. Now, do you see that ‘rank’ of wood ?” “Yes, sir,” they answered. tackle it and “Are you willing to stick to it until it is all sawed and split?” “Yes, sir,” vigorously than be more fore. * fte ,,,, ‘ ™°°“’ Weu T ‘ 7 bc ‘- S ® at ,r<lay ^ t an l! you 11 ’ ol ” hand. To Satim1ay foulld them on work they went. The old farmer walked around chuckling ^ to himself, .’ lntf not. a y orJ m he uft to tLe bo y 8 In the deepening twilight the saws caased, and w fl tl a j on ff huzza the boys threw up their caps, for the wood-pile split had disap p ea red, being, sawed, and piled in rbe s ]j eik “What’s the damage ?” said the farmer f ^enbonsly, as he knocked the ashes ^[j^The tomer. dmwing an ^ Hurrail for FarmPr A lka;s ! " ox “ ‘ claimed Harry, and the others joined in with a hearty chorus. On Monday the constable was hunted up, die execution satisfied, but he was eujohS>d to keep it a secret and let the notice remain. sunrise Thanksgiving Day came, and early found the bovs at the widow’s house, and when it was found that the notice had disappeared, and the manner in which it had been accomplished, the whole village rejoiced, and as Harry re¬ lated the circumstances to his father and mother at the midday meal that day, of how thankful and humble and re¬ joiced the widow was as she lay upon her sick bed, his father commended him, and in invoking the divine blessing upon their Thanksgiving dinner, chose as his closing remarks: “And it is more blessed to give than to receive 1” Four Distinct Climates. Tb. Republic o! Meiicc copt.in. 000 6 ?" a 77 JSJ*- f d a Population of 11J)00,GX) souls, and enjoys four diatoet climates. The tropical; from th coast to the T h e‘semi-tropical; from the foothills to the wide, level plateau. The temperate; from the plateau to the higher plains, such as the plateaus of Anahuac, Toluca, Durango and Chi chnahua. The cold; among the mountain valleys of the States of the interior, where hail storms are frequent, and where the in habitants require artificial warmth dur mg the night. THE JOKEli'S WIDGET. ivn.tr we fimj to sjiii.e oveu iy THE IlLAIimor.S PAPiJitsi. A l'n*e of Stick—Tlie Ornwbrfdse Fools— Brown’* >c\v House—Oc ike Car—Pro lecurd—Where they Went* Jbtc.v tic. A STICK STUCK. Maurice Meitose was out calling. Ha stayed about an hour and went off, leav¬ ing his cane in the hall. He missed it in a few minutes and come back after it the young lady’s little sister meeting him at the door. “Aw, my little girl,” he said, “weally, I beg youah pabdon, don’t you know, but 1 think I left a stick heali.” “I don’t think you did, Mr. Melrose, I heard sister say so.” “Aw, indeed, you fiattah me, but how should youah sister know? She did not see me go out, don’t you know ?” “I don’t know, sir, but I heard her say to Mr. Benton when you went out, ‘Well, thank Heaven, that stick is gone at last. I ' ! He didn’t prosecute his inquiries any further .—Cincinnati Traveler. THE DRAWBRIDGE FOOLS. Sir Cynic—Oft times upon the bridge I meet with fools. Lady Biglove—How know you them? Sir Cynic— tinkling of l f's th they utn, At the toe bell until the sweat Adown their faces pours, and they do pant, As lolling dogs in June. Vet still they run, And, running, cross the br.dgo Whim it is on the move, and narrowly escape A wat’ry Biglove—Perhaps grave or being pinched to death. Lady traiu. they run betimes to calcu a Sir Cynic—Nay, lady, nay; they run because they’re fools, For, i cing once across, they stop and stand Anil watch the ships go by; Nor move upon their journey hence Unlit the bridge be closed again. —Chicago News. SHE KNEW BETTER. “I saw you passing Johnson’s oyster house last evening with a young lady on your arm, and slie didn’t even offer to look into the window.” “No, she knew better.” “Who was she ?” “My sister.” WHERE THEY WENT. Cultured young wife: “When I was at Vassar 1 used to accuse my room¬ mate of taking my hair-pins, but I must have done her an injustice, for they dis¬ appear now just as fast as they did then.” Unfortunate young husband: “Dis appear, do they, eh ?” “Yes, I can’t keep a paper a week, and I’m sure I don’t drop them from nay hair.” “I never saw one fall.” “Then what can become of them?” “Well, the fact is, I have to twist them up into pot-hooks and use them iu place of buttons.”— Pkila. Call. ON THE CAR. “You’ve got my seat, sir,” said a man on a Texas railroad, who had left his seat for a moment'. “There is nothing to show that you have retained this seat. ” / “Look up there ! There is my hat box on the rack right over this • ' WvU, then yuu.ait.-Hp_th&uia/.i hat box, if tHat’s where you have re-’ tained your seat.”— Texas' Sifting's. EVEN LITTLE CHILDREN. “Jane,” said a mother to her nurse, “Did you give Johnny that comfit the doctor prescribed ?” “No, ma’am.” “Well, why didn’t you ?” it. “Because, ma’am, he wouldn’t have Ila said he was like Rachael mourning for her children.” “Good gracious, what dees he mean?" fitted.”— “Why, ma'am, lie refused to beeuni Merchant Traveler. great head of a rat. Two Austin gentlemen, Colonel Yer ger and Sam Bass, were talking about the comparative intelligence of animals. “I think that a horse is the most in¬ telligent animal,” remarked Colonel Yer ger. sir, the horse is not. The rat is “No, little animal the shrewdest and smartest I know of. It has a wonderful power of discrimination. The rat never sets fire t D a store by nibbling at matches, until everything is insured for more than its value. A rat who is in that line of busi Bess j s sharper than a fire insurance agent with a sixty ounce brain and tliir ;y year's’experience.”—I Texas Ei.Jtinas. brown’s new house. “I see you are building a new house, Mr. Brown ?” "Yes, you are right.” “Made the money ont of whisky, I suppose ?” “No.” “Why, you are a liquor dealer, are yon not ?” “Oh, yes, but the money I’m putting into this house was made out of the wa¬ ter I put in the whisky .”—Arkansaw Traveler. PROTECTED. “You used to live in one of the quiet¬ est parts of the cilv. I remember well how you boasted that you could leave all your doors and windows open at night with perfect security.” “Yes, but that’s all changed now. Why, it’s as much as my life is worth to walk out to my gate after dark.” “What caused this change ?” “A policeman passes my house twice in the night .”—Rochester Post. Stanley in Africa. Mrs. H. Grattan Guinness, of London, in a lecture on the Congo mission in Af¬ rica, says: It was only ten years ago when Stanley started on his mission, and now the Christian world, she said, stood upon the threshold of an enterprise the glorious results of which could hardly be estimated, Central Africa was a blank, an unknown regioD, before Stan¬ ley’s journey down the Congo. He launched into the unknown when he be¬ gan it. Now, besides the territory ac¬ cessible from the Congo, the many rivers running into it opened up thousands of additional miles of navigable waters. Before the exploration of the Congo, almost! the religious bodies of England had given up the task of evangelizing Africa. But since 1878, when the the Congo, first fifty mission-j med aries were sent up and women had followed, and the out! I look had become encouraging. “Pa, why does a man break a promise s» readily ?'” “Because, my son, it is A si t a-y to make another cue,"
