Newspaper Page Text
®he pdiai0 (Countg fcmto
W. B. MUrCEY, Editor.
VOL. II.
The flow of Northern and foreign capi¬
tal into the South and Southwestern sec¬
tions is increasing.
The effort to make tobacco a staple
crop in Florida is being continued on a
larger acreage and with apparent success.
Herbert Spencer estimates the parlia¬
mentary or “lobbying” expenses of En¬
glish railway companies at $260,000 per
annum.
A private soldier says that desertions
from the army are largely due to the
tyranny of the younger officers and the
drunkenness of the older ones.
During the last ten years Americans
have contributed $20,000,000 to relieve
suffering caused by disasters and epi¬
demics. Not such a very bad record,
observes the New York Tribune.
“For every five girls you put into busi¬
ness offices,” says a New Yorker, “you
will make three old maids. They will
be appreciated for their work just as boys
are, but they will lose the influence of
their sex over men.”
More than 15,000,000 railroad cross-ties
are used annually in the United States,
to furnish which requires the destruction
of nearly 200,000 acres of forest. This
fact illustrates the necessity of tree plant¬
ing and the preservation of our forests
from wanton destruction.
The most versatile American has been
discovered at Mosherdale, Hillsdale Coun¬
ty, Mich. He is a regularly ordained
preacher, but also practices medicine and
surgery, has proved his ability to gain a
living as a cabinet-maker, and is a skill¬
ful draughtsman, surveyor and fruit gar¬
dener.
United States Consul Mason, of Mar¬
seilles, writes to the State Department
that the effects of general and unre
strained absinthe-drinking in France are
now reoegnized as forming a basis of one
of tho gravest dangers which threaten
the physical and moral -welfare of the
people of France.
We are constructing some very big
guns for our new navy. Two have just
been turned out with a muzzle velocity
of 2000 feet per second and a range of
ten miles each. These, says the Hew Or¬
leans Times-Democrat, would assist ma¬
terially in keeping the flies off any for¬
eign man-of-war that dared to approach
our coast with hostile intent.
Five Indians recently appeared as wit¬
nesses in a land case at Los Angeles, Cal.,
one of whom, Juan Sabera, claimed to be
one hundred and twenty years old, and
said he was twelve years of age when the
Sail Gabriel Mission was founded. An¬
other one of the quintet w r as Juan Cal-
mila, whose years numbered one hundred
and fifteen. The other members of the
group were Francisco Apache, one hun¬
dred and five; Ramon Largo, one hun¬
dred and four, and Harahisjo Cabojon,
who was a mere boy of eighty.
Said a lieutenant on board the British
warship Buzzard: “Were I in charge of
a battery when engaged with either the
Boston or the Atlanta, I would make a
target out of the afterdeck and destroy
the steering-gear. The ship losing this
would then be unmanageable and at the
mercy of her antagonist.” It is said
that the confidential photograph books
of nearly every British cruiser contain
plates of every ship in the United States
service. Many of these photographs
were taken by the instantaneous process
while the ships were under way.
An Englishman contributes to a recent
issue of the St. James Gazette an extraor¬
dinary article on the lack of fighting
qualities of the American. He declares
that there was no real fighting in oui
Civil War, and that at any time during
the first two years a well equipped divis¬
ion of 10,000 disciplined troops could
have cleaned out either side within three
months. But when he gets down to the
probable results of a war between the
United States and a European power,
says the San Francisco Chronicle , he is
most amazing. “He figures out that if a
war did not result in the South seizing
the opportunity to secede again, then the
cowboys and Indians of the West, both
of whom ‘hate the grangers’ and detest
the Government, would unite and devas¬
tate the country. The picture of the
union of ‘Lo’ and the cowboy is a bit of
unconscious British humor which throws
into the shade the best efforts of the
American wits.”
JASPER, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, AUGUST 9 , 1881).
THE RAIN SPIRIT.
Sea! The night without is very lonely,
Moon and stars and all their luminous train
havo fled;
Darkness rules the earth, and darkness only;
Rain-drops fall like tears above the dead;
Yet in many voices
Comes a sweet refrain,
The utterance of a spirit sad but tender—
The Spirit of tho Rain.
Weary seems tho Spirit; his accents falling
Well might be the language grief and pain
employ;
Yet with voice of wailing he is ever calling
On the distant future for benisonsof joy;
Though its tones are mournful,
Sweet maybe the strain;
Wondrous are his tidings, though the tones
breathe sadness—
The Spirit of the Rain.
Gentle is his mission; through tho brown
earth stealing,
Seeking there the tiny seeds that grow to
perfect flowers;
To their dreary prison the Spirit goes reveal-
The mg glorious
resurrection that comes with
sun-fed hours—
Bids them wait in patience
Summer’s royal reign;
Of a world transfigured, low the Spirit whis¬
pers—
The Spirit of the Rain.
Drawn are all tho curtains; close and warm
our dwelling;
From the glowing fireside no restless foot¬
steps roam;
For the Spirit’s accents to our cold hearts are
telling
The secret of the fireside, the wondrous
charm of home;
Listen to the story
Told upon the pane,
Told like sweetest music by a heaven-born
spirit—
The Spirit of the Rain.
—Mary E. Vandyke, in Harper's Bazar.
THE TIPTON CELEBRATION.
BY EMMA A. OPPER.
There was a good deal of head-shaking
indulged in when Philip Bruce and
Mehitabel Hale were married.
Old Mrs. Pierce,who lived next to the
Bruce homestead (it was Philip’s now—
he was the last surviving Bruce), stated
the cause for disapproval with much im¬
pressiveness to little Miss Gardner, the
dressmaker.
“They’re middling young, for one
thing—Hitty, and she ain’t above nineteen,
Phil ain’t more’n twenty-three or
four—but that ain’t the most on’t. They
won t git along peaceable, nor nothing
like it—mark my words. When you see
red hair like his’n, and black eyes like
lier’n, you can be pretty certain there’s a
temper behind ’em.”
“Sho!” said Miss Gardner, pacifically.
1 ‘Phil’s as good-natured a feller as ever
breathed, and I never seed a pleasanter-
spoken gal than Hitty. ”
“Well,” Mrs. Pierce admitted, “I
don t know as I ever heerd anything
against ’em, either of ’em, but them
signs ain’t apt to fail. They’ll be falling
out before their honeymoon’s over with,
I’ll warrant!”
If Phil Bruce aud his pretty young
wife could have heard tho prophecy, no
doubt there would have been some ex-
hibitionof the “temper” whose existence
she argued. Certainly there would have
been a great deal of righteous indigna¬
tion; for if ever there was a couple who
had married purely from love, aud be¬
tween whom nothing could possibly
come, and the harmony of whose devoted
affection nothing could in the remotest
degree disturb, Phi! and Hitty Bruce
were convinced that they were that
couple.
And certainly there was everything in
favor of the theory. They were very
much in love; each considered the other
the most perfect being, on the whole,
that the w'orld contained. Quarrel? They
would have smiled at the mere idea of
anything so obviously impossible.
And if the next town had not conceived
the idea, some three weeks after their
marriage, of celebrating Independence
Day, Mrs. Pierce’s prediction would never
have been fulfilled.
“We’ll go, of course?” said Hitty.
She had run out to the barn where Phil
was dish-apron husking corn, in her blue gingham
and barehead, with a copy of
the country paper in her hand.
“Where?” said Phil, smiling up at her.
“To Tipton, of course,” said Hitty,
eagerly—“to the celebration to-morrow.
It tells all about it here. There’s going
to be speeches, and the militia’s going to
march, and a dinner at the the town hall.
Of course we’ll go?”
She dropped her dark eyes persuasively
upon him as he sat husking industriously,
with his hat pushed back on his head,
disclosing hair that was rather warm in
hue.
“Well,” said Phil, slowly—he did not
like to disappoint his pretty wife—I
don’t see how I can, Hitty. There’s a
good deal that’s waiting to be done, and
nobody but me to do it. I can’t put off
gathering the apples in the east orchard
—they’ll rot on the trees; and the pota¬
toes hadn’t ought to be left in the ground
any longer. I guess I’ll have to stay to
home, Hitty.”
“Stay to home!” screeched Hitty.
‘ ‘Why, Phil Bruce, you don’t know what
you’re saying! There won’t be another
chance like this nobody knows when.
The idea of your wanting to miss it!
Why, Phil Bruce!”
“I don’t want to miss it!” said Phil,
rather impatiently. ‘ ‘I’d be glad enough
“WE SEEK THE REWARD OF HONE8T LABOR."
to take you, Hitty. But what’ll
of the apples and potatoes if I do!”
“They cau wait,” said Hetty
some defiance.
“They can't wait!” Phil
“You’ve got to use a little
Hitty.”
He had always credited Hitty with
good amount of common sense, and
seeming lack of it annoyed him.
Hitty’s bright eyes widened
nantly.
Reason, indeed, it was he who was
reasonable !”
She said so with a sharpness
his own.
“Well," said Phil, bending over
husks again, “all I know is that I
any time to spend traipsing over to.
ton or anywhere else. I can’t
all!”
“It don’t make any difference,
wanting to gol” cried Hitty.
don’t care for me.”
She pressed a corner of her apron
her eyes, sobbingly, and ran into
house.
Old Mrs. Pierce witnessed the
ing from behind her blinds, and
counted it to Miss Gardner next day.
“I thought to myself that
was wrong,” she declared. “So
night I just stepped in a minute with
mending; and, sure enough, it was jest
plain as day that there’d be’n some
of a fuss between ’em. Hitty didn’t
two words to Phil the hull time;
Phil he took his lantern, ’long
eight o’clock, and went off to the barn,
and he hadn’t come in when I
home. I told you how ’twould be,
didn’t I?”
“Well, well!” said Miss Gardner,
sadly convinced.
“You hain’t changed your mind
going to Tipton, I s’pose?” said Hitty,
stopping Phil somewhat timidly, as he
was leaving the breakfast-table the
morning.
“No, I hain’t,’’said Phil, rathershortly
—he had not expected a revival of the
subject. “If you’re so set on it, you can
go; but you’ll have to leave me to home!”
Hitty frowned. She had intended to
give it all up peaceably—she had meant
to tell him so; but his sharpness scattered
her good resolves to the winds.
“I was thinking,” she said, with equal
coolness—she had thought of it only that
instant—“that I might go with the
Patchius if you ain’t going. I guess they’d
take me along.”
She was sorry the monlent she had
said it; for Phil looked hurt and aston¬
ished. But he recovered himself promptly
and angrily.
“I presume they would,” he said, turn¬
ing toward the door. “I hain’t the least
doubt of it.”
He strode away rapidly.
“I’ll leave your dinner right in the
cupboard,” ITitty called after him, “and
I’ll be home before supper!”
Half an hour later she was closing the
front gate behind her, and hurrying down
the road toward the - Patchins’s, looking
very pretty in her new brown silk—her
wedding dress.
She was trying to make herself believe
that she was in extremely good spirits;
but the task was rather difficult. It
seemed strange to be going on and leav¬
ing Phil in that way. But then he might
have gone. Apples and potatoes! as
though he couldn’t have left them for a
day. Certainly he couldn’t have expected
her to stay at home on account of them;
she had been quite right not to.
The Patchins’s sleek white horse, har¬
nessed to their big, dusty old carriage,
was nibbling the grass at the gate. The
Patchins themselves, a pleasant-faced old
couple, were just coming out of the house
in their Sunday clothes, They looked
inquiringly at Hitty,
“I'm going to beg a ride to Tipton,”
said the girl, smiling.
They were old friends, and she was
sure of a welcome.
The old couple looked puzzled. Mrs.
Patchins frankly expressed her wonder.
“Why, where’s Phil?” she said.
“He ain’t going,” Hitty responded,
hesitatingly. “He—he said he had too
much to do.”
“Well, well, git right in,” said theold
man, pleasantly. ‘ ‘ We’ll be glad to have
you along.”
His wife echoed the invitation, and
Hitty climbed in. But if each had said
in so many words, “Why are you going
there?” their thought could hardly have
been plainer, and her heart sank a
little.
Nor did the pretty drive serve to
lighten it. She tried to shake off her
discomfort—she was sure it was unreason¬
able; but she was feeling rather doleful
at the end of the fourth mile.
“Guess there’ll be considerable many
there,” said Mr. Patchins, as they rattled
along.
Indeed, they were in the midst of a
long line of vehicles,ali bound for Tipton.
Everybody had a word for them as they
passed or were overtaken.
“Why, Hitty Bruce!” cried Amanda
Black-—one of Hitty’s best friends—turn¬
ing to shake a finger at her. “A pretty
state of affairs! Where’s Phil?”
Hitty reddened painfully. Everybody
was saying the same thing. Had she been
wrong to come? L"
“Well, I swan!” said bluff Sam Crosby,
backward quizzically over the
on his wife’s bonnet. “You
don’t mean to say you’ve left him a’ready,
I declare for’t!”
He laughed jovially.
Hitty dropped her eyes to her lap; she
on the verge of tears. Then she
laid a hand on the lines, and the
horse stopped.
“I’m going back,” she said—“I never
ought to have come at all, and I’m going
back."
“Mercy, child 1” said the old lady, re-
monstrantly. miles “Why, we're ’most five
from home!”
“I’ve walked more than five miles
plenty of times,” said Hitty, springing
from the carriage. “No, no! I can’t
go on to Tipton—I shan’t!”
She waved her hand to the astonished
old couple, and walked away.
it was surprising how much better she
felt for it. She hurried along briskly;
she could hardly wait to get home.
How could she have come? she won-
dv .;d. How could she have wanted to
co le! And she had almost—yes, quite
—quarreled with him; and it was only
three weeks since their wedding-day!
Well, it shall never happen again.
sihe stepped hastily to one side, as she
took the resolve, to escape a fast-ap¬
proaching- team; and her foot slipped.
She sat down on tho grassy edge of the
road, the next morneut, wincing with tho
sharp pain in her ankle.
“It’s sprained!” she said to herself, in
dismay.
A'.pl when she tried, pluckily, to walk
on, ,10ie growing twinge confirmed her
fear.
Hitty looked about helplessly. There
was neat white house near by; and as
she stood dubiously regarding it, a woman
in a calico dress and apron came out of it.
“1 seen you from the window!” she
called out, cheerfully. “Hurt your foot,
hain’t you? Jest wait till I git to you.”
She gave her an arm to lean on, and
they got into the house, rather slowly.
Hitty told her, as they went, as much of
the story as seemed necessary.
“Well,” said the woman, hospitably,
“all you’ve got to do is jest to wait here
till somebody comes along back and takes
you in—that won’t be till afternoon,
’tain’t likely. We hain’t any team, or
I’d take you myself. No, I hain’t going
to Tipton. Don’t care a cent about their
doings, whatever they be. Oh, I can
keep you jest as well as not-—you needn’t
say a word!”
“You’re awful good!” said Hitty,
gratefully.
But she was in the lowest possible
spirits. She was thinking of Phil—Phil,
working away, all alone, in the orchard
or the potato-field, firm in the belief that
she was in Tipton, enjoying herself.
; She half forgot her ankle, though it
forced itself upon her sharply now and
then; s.T.\vvjDrried I/ve about Phil.
. been kinder than
her impromptu hostess. She pulled the
big rocker close-to the fire aud put Hitty
into it, and bustled about in the kitchen
over the dinner, coming in frequently to
speak a friendly word to her guest,
A lank man in a working-blouse came
in at dinner-time, and added his powers
of entertainment to those of his wife.
Ilitty said yes aud no, and laughed
when occasion required; but a vision of
Phil, eating his cold beef and potatoes,
lonesomely, from the cupboard-shelf,kept
rising before her, dampening her enjoy¬
ment and spoiling her appetite.
“Well, no w, ” said her hostess, encourag¬
ingly, as she put away the last dinner-
dish, and brought her chair and her
knitting to the fire, “I guess it won’t ho
a great wbilo till-somebody comes along.
You want to have your foot ’tended to
jest as soon as you git home. I know
what a sprained ankle is; guess you won’t
be able to help your ma much for one
while. Married? Well, I declare! I
shouldn’t ha’ thought it—a little slip like
you!”
She talked on pleasantly, turning now
and then to look out of the window for
a home-bound vehicle.
Hitty watched, too, anxiously.
“There!” she cried at last, interrupting
her entertainer in an account of the re¬
markable symptoms and sudden death of
her husband’s sister-in-law by his first
wife.
She got up and limped hastily to the
window, and gave a little gasp of aston¬
ishment and delight.
“Why, it’s Phil?” she said.
The driver, catching sight of her,
stopped his horse and stared at her.
“She’s sprained her ankle,” said her
hostess, speaking loudly, over her shoulder;
“and she’d take it as a great favor if
you’d jest give her a lift home. No, no”
—she interrupted Hitty’s thanks, good-
naturedly—“I hain’t done nothing to
speak of, child? When you get out this
way, I hope you’ll drop in and-”
She paused abruptly, regarding with
astonishment the young driver, who had
come up the walk witli long strides,
seized the girl in his arms as she started
to limp down the steps and carried her
out to his buggy.
Hitty clung to Phil’s arm with tender
closeness, as they drove away, and poured
her unhappy little history into his eager
ears.
“I was hurrying just as fast as I
could,” she said, vehemently. “It was a
mean, bad thing to go at all, when you
couldn’t—poor old boy! I never will do
such a horrid thing again.”
“There! I ain’t going to have you take
all the blame,” Phil interrupted. “You
hain’t asked how I happened out here?
Well, I got to thinking that mebbe I’d
be’n crosser’n I needed to be about it. So
I just hitched up and pointed for Tipton;
any when l*could’nt find you anywhere,
nor the Patchins either, in all the rum¬
pus, I come back home feeling pretty
blue, I tell you. No, sir; it didn’t pay,
that little disagreement didn’t. We won’t
have no more, Hitty—that’s ail.
Old Mrs. Pierce standing at her win¬
dow saw them drive in at their gate,
laughing and chatting in unrestrained
gaiety. ‘I
‘ suppose I must ha’ been mistaken
$1*00 Per Annum, In Advance.
about that little tilt o’ theirn,” she said
to Miss Gardner, some time afterward.
“I guess they didn’t hev none; T s’posc
my old eyes and ears must ha’ be’n play¬
in’ mo a trick, They seem to git along
wonderful well together. They’re about
the peacefulest couple T ever did see.
Black eyes and red hair don’t seem to
make no difference—for once.”
HOUSEHOLD AFFAIRS.
CONCKllMNd MOTHS.
“Tlie damage l>y moths is done when
the millers begin to liy,” explains the
Upholstery Trade Review, “as their very
presence indicates the absence of the
worm.” Carpets are seldom troubled
with moth worms except where hatched
in a dark, unprotected space, and where
it is moderately warm. Nearly ail the
trouble from moths emanates from the
furniture,the burlap inside the outer cov¬
ering being their best field for work,
where they can lie free fiom annoyance
and find plenty to eat. Many furniture
dealers realize their danger, and cleanse
the burlap used with naphtha. The au¬
thority quoted says: “Cleansing carpets
by the and naphtha process is regarded as the
surest most satisfactory where is the
slightest suspicion of moth eggs or worms.
It is especially adapted to pile carpets.
Caution should be exercised as to the
purity and clearness of the naphtha used
and the thorough extraction of the grease,
else the dirt adheres more easily than be¬
fore. Where carpets are to remain in
storage some time the odor can be left in
the carpet. A more thorough cleansing
can be assured by having the carpet
beaten first. A surface application of
naphtha will drive the impurities through
the article to be absorbed by that which
is under it.”
SOME PRETTY SCREENS.
The frame for an ordinary three-pane!
screen, five or six feet in height, can be
made of pine for about two dollars. A
smooth covering of gray or ecru batiste
joined and overlapped along the center
of the edges by a row of small tacks with
round brass heads, makes a neat and ser¬
viceable screen for dining-room or hall.
The panels may have a design of nastur¬
tium vine with crimson and yellow flow¬
ers trailing from the top, painted on the
panels so as to seem a continuous growth
and interlacing. This for one side ; the
other can have a painted border at the
top of the panels, five inches deep, of
mottled ground, nasturtium-leaf green
aud crimson, with many lines of gold
touched along, and a line of gold below
to finish the border. Discs and half¬
circles in groups of three interlaced can
be powdered over the panels. Outline
them witli gold after the background,
the same ns the border has been painted.
Some or the single crescents need only
be outlined in gold, a.s the idea of heavi¬
ness must be avoided. Small lines of
gold—Japanese sky-lines as they are
called—may be streaked across above the
border at the bottom. One must try the
effect of their colors and combinations
on a bit of the linen or batiste, and in¬
troduce these sketchy effects with judg¬
ment and discretion. —Housewife.
TO KNIT A PATCH INTO A STOCKING.
When the knees of a child’s stocking
becomes much darned it is almost use
less, as it constantly breaks into holes
again, and is always ugly. The follow¬
ing plan of mending will lie found very
much superior to a darn, and is quit<
imperceptible. Decide what size pate!
will be required. Cut the stocking care¬
fully across the top and bottom of the
patch, taking care to cut along one row
of the knitting. As the stocking is knit
from the top it will be necessary, if
ribbed, to begin at the top of the patch.
Rip a row or two till all the stitches art
clear of broken threads. Do not break oil
the threads at each side, but cut them ir
the centre. Pick up al! the stitches along
the top of the patch. Now clear the
stitches at the bottom of the patch. Yoc
will have to cut the thread sometimes
to get it free of the stitches il
the stocking is ribbed, but al-
ways leave threads at each at leas!
an inch long. Now cut out the patch,
keeping it about one-half an inchnarrovvei
on each side than the piece you intend
to knit in. Ravel out this one-half an
inch on each side, leaving the ends as
they are. Be sure to stop ravelling so
that the sides of the patch will lie quite
even. Now knit backward and forward
as many rows as you have taken away.
Turn the stocking wrong side out and
lay the stitches you have just knit beside
the stitches you picked up at the bottom
of the patch and knit them together, as
in the heel of a stocking. Sew up each
side of the patch, keeping the rows per¬
fectly even, and keeping all the loose
threads on the wrong -side; take a darn¬
ing needle and run each thread to the
right or left of the patch. If the stock,
ing is knitted plain, you can begin at the
bottom of the patch and knit up, which
is, of course, neater as the join is out of
sight, being near the top of the stocking.
— Yankee Blade.
HOUSEHOLD HINTS.
Lemons will keep best in a jar of cold
water.
Vinegar and sugar mixed will cure hic¬
coughs.
Carriage varnish is an excellent cement
for china.
Castor oil beans dropped in mole holes
will drive away the moles.
Whole cloves sprinkled among woolen
goods and furs will preserve them from
the depredations of moths.
NO. 42.
SHE TALKED.
She talked of Cosmos and of Cause,
And wovo groon olophants in gauze
And while she frescoed earthen jugs,
Her tongue would never pause;
On sagos wise and esoteric,
And bards from Wondell Holmes to Hon
rick—
Thro’ time’s proud I’anthoon sho walked,
And talked and talked and talked and
talkedl
And while sho talked, sho would crochet, ,
And mako all kinds of inaerame, I
Or paint green bobolinks upon
Her mother’s earthen tray;
She’d decorate a smelling bottle,
While she conversed on Aristotle;
While fame’s proud favorites round her
flocked,
Sho talked and talked and talked and
talked!
Sho talked and made embroidered rugs,
Sho talked and painted ’lasses jugs,
And worked tivo soa green turtle dovo9
On papa's shaving mugs;
With Emerson or Epictetus,
Plato or Kant, sho used to groat us;
She talked until wo all were shocked,
And talked and talked and talked and
talked!
She had a lover, and ho told
The story that is never old, - • .....~
While she her father’s bootjack worked
A lovely groon and gold.
She switched off on Theocritus; ■
And talked about Democritus;
While she his ardent passion balked,
And talked and talked and talked and
talked!
He begged her to become his own >.
Sho talked of ether and ozone,
And painted yellow poodles on
Her brother’s razor hone;
Then talked of Noah and Nebuchadnezzar,
And Timon and Tiglath-pilescr—
While he at her heart portals knocked,
Sho talked and talked and talked and
talked!
He bent in love’s tempestuous gale,
Sho talked of strata and of shale,
Aud worked magnetic poppies on
Her mother’s water pail;
And whilo he talked of passion’s power,
She amplified on Schopenhauer—
A pistol flashed; he’s dead; imshockod,
Sho talked and talked aud talked and
talked!
— S. W. Foss, in Yankee Blacle.
IIUM0R OF THE HAY)
The finest parlor suite—A pretty girl.
An accurate weather report—The thun¬
der clap.
Would it be proper to speak of a hen¬
nery as an egg plant?”
It is said that mermaids tie up their
hair with a marine band.
There is danger in crossing the equator.
The equator might get mad.
Domestic skeletons are usually formed
of the bones of contention. — Boston
Courier.
It is very natural for an officer to be a
little peppery when ho musters his men.
—Baltimore American.
The Ichthyosaurus lived of yore
In tho region of Timbuetoo,
‘When the water was H2S04
And the air was C02.
— Munsey’s Weekly.
Smart Aleck—“See here,boy! Where
did you catch that big string of fish?"
Small Boy—“I ketched all of these by
their gills.”
Two lovers at parting.—lie—“Shall
you remain true to me, my love, till I re¬
turn?” She—“Yes; but come back
soon !"—II Carlino.
Magistrate—“I hear you are a pauper."
prisoner (proudly)—“No, sir, I am not.
I have three cents in my pocket and a
postage stamp.”— Epoch.
If you wish for mournful numbers
In a gloomy opitaph,
Drop In the some guileless early spring phonograph- cucumbers
—Philadelphia Press.
A success.—Tim—“What do you think
of my little boy, Tagg?” Tagg (whohas
heard the little boy’s voice)—“Oh, I
think lie’s a roaring success.”— Yankee
Blade.
The Salesroom Model—“Why shouldn’t
l be paid more money than you? My
position is the showiest!” The Fitting-
room Model—“Yes, but mine is the most
trying.”
The best of reasons. —Balkley— 1 ‘What’s
the matter, deah boy? Why don’t you
sit down?” Calkley—Cawn’t, you know.
Got on a standing collah.”— Clothier and
Furnisher.
“Talk of the scarcity of husbands!"
exclaimed Miss Longuate, throwing down
the paper in vexation: “I rather think
the real trouble is the scarcity of single
gentlemen.”
Dude—“Why is it that every clown
has such a stupid, blown—“Certainly. face? Is he obliged to
look stupid?” If I
hud your face my salary would be doubled
at once.”— Texas Siftings.
Friend—“I see you have a broad band
of crape on your hat. For whom do you
wear it?” Mr. Shabby Genteel—“On
account of the mournful condition of
the hat itself.”— Texas Siftings.
“Make way here, gentlemen,” said the
officious policeman, clubbing the crowd
right and left. “We’ve got to have more
room. There’s an Englishman coming
with a pair of new trousers on.”— Chicago
Tribune.
Ilad Had All He Wanted (solicitously) 1
—“Grindstone, stop a moment. That’s
a fearful cold you have. Are you taking
anything for it?” (Hurrying on)—“Not
in the shape of advice, Kiljordan.’-’—-
Chicago Tribune. -