Newspaper Page Text
PICKENS COUNTY HERALD.
VOL. I.
The Mormons have more members in
Iowa than in any other State in the
Union.
Ex-Speaker Reed is quoted as defining
a “statesman” us a “successful politician
—who is dead.”
The Wall street News complacently
refers to John Bull as “the best lamb
Wall street ever had."
Japan desires Englaud to abandon
Egypt and the Suez Caual aud make the
Canadian Pacific Railway a route of
travel toward India until such time as
the Nicaragua Canal shall be completed.
A writer in the St. Louis Republic
argues that the short story is the best of
all stories, reaches more people, and
lives longer than the long stories. The
same, adds the Atlanta Constitution,
is true of the short speech. The best
and most famous speeches in the world’s
history have been short speeches.
Of the 37,000 names in Allibone’s
“Directory of Authors” there arc 287
Smiths, 215 Browns aud 168 Joneses. It
will be seen that the names most com¬
mon in a city directory are also most
common among authors. Genius, there¬
fore, concludes the Atlanta Constitution,
is not confined to high-sounding names.
A deputation waited on the Lord
Mayor of London, England, the other
day, to obtain his aid in securing a lair
trial in London for anthracite coal.
They said there was a prejudice against
this coal in London on the part of do¬
mestic servants, who complained that it
was very difficult to light fires with an¬
thracite.
The following is a list of the surviv¬
ing members of the United States Senate
during the memorable season of 1860-1,
immediately preceding the late war -
Willard Saulsbury, of Delaware; Lyman
S. Trumbull,of Illinois; James Harlan,of
Iowa; Anthony Kennedy, of Maryland:
Henry AI.Rice aud Morton S. Wilkinson,
of Minnesota; Thomas L. Clingman, of
North Carolina; and J. Doolittle,of Wis¬
consin.
The turning of the bed of the Feather
River at Oroville, Cal., has won for the
engineer of that astonishing piece of
work an offer from the liquidator of the
Panama Canal Company to go to Colon
and make an estimate on the cost of
turning the Ceagres River and convert¬
ing its bed into a canal channel, with
the aid of five locks, The theory seems
to be that what French engineering
failed in American skill may finish. But
Colonel Frank AIcLaughlin, the Feather
River manipulator and mountain-borer
has said: “No, I thank you; the United
States are good enough for me.”
j “A movement in favor of the issue of
fractional currency is in progress,” re¬
marks the Scientific American. “Busi-
ness men who conduct a large business
by mail are much annoyed by the want
of some mailable form of currency.
Silver coins are to heavy and bulky for
transmission by mail, and are far from
safe, as any one who handles the letter
can ascertain their presence. Postage
stamps have come into extensive use for
the transmission of small amounts, aud
this has become in many cases a positive
annoyance, owing to their accumulation
on the hands of merchants. They aro
also bought at postoffices which, under
the law, obtain no credit for selling
them. We believe that, from these points
of view alone, the reintroduction 0 [
“fractional currency” would be au esol-
lent enactment on the part of the Gov-
ment.”
Frank Leslie’s Weekly says: “Of 156 r
357 claims formally acted upon by the
Auditor and Comptroller of the United
States Treasury in the last tea years,
more than sixty por cent, were cases in
which absolutely nothing was due the
claimants, the books clearly showing
that the accounts had been settled and
closed. Yet all these claims had to be
re-examined, certified and treated in the
3 ame manner as though they had nevei
before been considered,all at an immense
expense to the Government. A bill is
now before Congress to relieve the
Treasury officials of all this useless work,
and has been favorably reported upon by
the proper committee. By its provis¬
ions the Second Auditor has the final
decision in cases for arrears of pay and
bounty, and an appeal to the Second
Comptroller may be taken within six
. months from the date the decision u
rendered.”
WE SEEH. THE XlEWAXtX) OP HONEST XjABOR.
PROBLEMS.
Tears come and go,
We know not the beginning nor the end:
Eyes cannot see the wind, yet branches
bend-
Mind governs matter, none can show the
cause;
Man cannot fathom even Nature’s laws;
AVhy is it so?
Why are we, whenee, orhow, that we exist?
How long will it be ere the solemn change,
Which we call death, that transmutation
strange,
Shall wrap us in impenetrable mist
We do not know.
But this we feel -
Yea, in each human heart there dwells a
thought kno’wing,
A hope, a that life cannot cease-
That death’s the signal of a soul’s release
Frommatter, and wlmt Power these won-
ders wrought,
It will reveal
—T. Tracy Walsh, in Boston Transcript.
Louise Bouvier’sBeuaration.
uy m’kexdree bangs.
8 the interview between
her landlord and her-
self ended Madame
Bouvier became very
angry. Had the land-
lord remained to see
how her black eyes
snapped and to note
4 r- her appearance and
mm manner he might well
have thought that she
IP meant to do harm of
some sort to him cr his
interests.
And indeed Aladame Bouvier had good
cause to be angry. She had struggled
hard and long for success and now just
as she had attained it it seemed to her
that its fruits were to be gathered by
another. It was all too cruel. Her
husband, Paul, had established the busi-
ness many years before and she had been
good and kind and helpf ul to him in
those days, which, now, as she looked
back upon, through the intervening
years, seemed to her to have been such
happy ones. It may be that her memory
glorified them; but she herself was very
certain. Even then it was a hard strug-
gle, though Paul was skilful and hard-
working. Perhaps the struggle was the
harder because Paul was so skilful and
knew sowed -» r hen the feathers were
properly curled aud as smoothly and
evenly dyed as they should be. He
worked so carefully and neither his own
work nor that of the young girls he em-
ployed to help him . was permitted ever
to go out unless it met his own approval,
And there were others with, may be,
larger establishments, who could sell for
much less than Paul cculd; but whose
work, although it met in some measure
trade requirements, was not yet as well
done as Pauls.
Yet they struggled on and slowly their
market grew. Then Paul fell ill and
things looked very dark for them; but
Louise, his wife, found somehow time to
carry on the business and to take good
care of him, too. However, notwith-
standing her good care and her
prayers, he died and the poor little
widow was very lonely, but she had
never given up courage or lost hope.
And she had worked on with the busi¬
ness, and had paid the debts Paul’s long
sickness and death had forced them to
incur, and she had done so well that she
could not only be sure of her livelihood,
but could even look forward, old though
she already was, to the possession of a
competency for that time which was cer¬
tain and soon to come when she would
be no longer active or able to work as
she had. And now it was all brought
to an end, she thought.
“We shall see,” she had said almost
threateningly to the landland, “Aou can
not turn me out; you cannot, you can-
not, I will not go.”
“But you will go,” he had responded
angrily, for the interview had made him
impatient. “I can turn you out. Your
lease has expired and I will not renew it.
And out you will go.” j
He had not been a good landlord or a
kind one. He had declined to do almost
anything Madame Bouvier had asked him
to, and he had been exacting and un-
yielding toward her, no matter how cir-
cumstances were with her; but in this
case he had tried to be fair. He had
spoken calmly enough at first and had ex-,
plained profitable that the building and that was he intended old and no to j
longer
tear it down aud build a large line one
in place of it and the two or three simi-
lar and neighboring houses; but she had ,
not believed him. No, it could not be
that thought. he had It spoken here that the she truth, had lived she j
was
and worked. Ana it did not seem possi-
ble to her that she might move and do as
well elsewhere. It was here that the
work was done; it was here that the
business was established; it was here that
her customers came and made their pur-
chases. The place was known and now
some one else was to be brought in to
reap the reward of Paul’s knowledge and
of both their work and patience, some
man maybe, or some younger, prettier
woman. Besides, it was here that she
had lived and suffered and been happy
with Paul; it wns here that he bad died.
She was determined that no one else
should live there.
As the door closed upon the landlord,
she did not cry or make useless lamenta¬
tion. She looked upon the closing door
with her snapping bright eyes; she
clenched her hands tight, and it was
JASPER, GA., FRIDAY, APRIL 8, 1892.
through her teeth, tight closed, that she
said to herself, “Yes, wo shall see, wo
shall see. It shall not be. No one else
ao one ®kall have this place.
Throughout the afternoon matters
wen ^ 011 as usual in the establishment.
The work of the girls was brought to
Mine. Bouvier for her inspection, and
criticism. She examined it as carefully
as ever. 'There was no manifestation of
indifference, no neglect. When the
finished work was brought to her, some
of the glossy feathers were approved of
and put away to be afterward boxed,
while some were sent back to be im-
proved. Customers called and with them
Madame Bouvier dealt as shrewdly as
l ‘ vftr; S oods were skipped, and Madame
superintended the packing and delivery
aswas her GUStom - There was m ker
appearance or manner no sign of the rage
aud an S er within her ’ and 110 indication
of what it was she meant to do.
But she had determined upon a plan
almost before her landlord hud left h”
budding. All tlnough the afternoon,no
matter how busy she was, no matter how
occupied she appeared to be with the
affairs of her daily life, her indignation
and resentment at the injustice which
was about to be done her grew, and she
nursed her wrath until it was far might-
ier than she was. Her plan develo ped
and all its details were worked out in her
quick and active brain. 8he longed for
the time to come when she might exe-
cute it.
Slowly the day wore on, and at length
the last of her work-girls put on her
street clothes and said “Good night” to
her. Aladame Bouvier was alone,
Then with quick steps she went to her
bed-room. From its place upon her
bureau, where it had stood for so long,
she took Paul’s picture and kissed it
passionately and put it within the bosom
of her dress. She put on her bonnet,
and carrying her cloak down placed it
within easy reach near the locked front
door of her house. She went to the
work-rooms and gathered great armfuls
of the light tissue paper in which the fin -
islied glossy black and white plumes were
packed. Without hesitation she hurried
with these down made stairs again pile and, and under
the stairs she a great on
it she threw little pieces of boards and
broken boxes. She took no time to seek
an oil can; but she seized the large lamo,'
by the light of which she made up her
accounts at night, and lifting it high
above her head, threw it with all her
force upon the pile she had made. The
glass chamber broke and the oil was
scattered all about. She was very
thorough. Theu she stooped in the
darkness and carefully lighted a match
and touched with its burning end the
paper. A little flame sprang up and
then died away. She lighted another
match and then tried again. This time
she was more successlul, and the flames
ran among the papers, the light shining
upon her face which had become hard
and determined, brightening and color-
ing it.
Aladame stood and watched the flames
awhile, A smile played upon her mouth,
“\Ve shall see,” she said again to herself
—“We shall see.”
Presently the crackling of the wood
assured her that there was no need to
fear that her plans would fail. But yet
she watched the fire glow, and pushed
the paper together with her foot or placed
the out-lying sticks of wood where the
blaze could reach them, The flames
rose and fell and rose again, All the far
corners of the hall which had been so
dark, were all now lighted. As Aladame
Bouvier stood still and only watched,
she cast a gigantic shadow on the op¬
posite wall; but when she moved, her
shadow ran hither and hither, grew
larger or diminished, or danced about
in queer fantastic manner. Quickly the
fire ate up all the paper she had gath-
ered; it played with the small pieces of
-wood and consumed them, and then,
seeking more to burn, darted upward to-
ward the wood-work of the stair-case.
Then, at last Aladame Bouvier moved
away. She was well satisfied. The heat !
and smoke were already almost stifling,
but she went very slowly toward the
frout-door, looking backwards as she did
so toward the spreading fire as though,
at any risk, she would be certain.
“I will do,” she 3aid to herself grimly,
and then she moved more quickly. She
picked up her cloak from the floor where
she had thrown it; she unlocked the
door and opened it and was about to go
out into present safety, at least. But,
suddenly, she stopped. With a quick,
scream of terror, she closed the
door violently.
“( had forgotten,” she moaned, “I
had forgotten.”
She hurried toward the stairs and
began to ascend them. She was sorry
now that she was so old, for she was ;
forced to go but slowly it seemed to her.
The flames were climbing upward, front too. of j
They reached out and over the !
the stairway; they coiled about the j
uprights of the banisters aud licked the j
woodwork they were about to consume. ' !
They sprang at Aladame Mouvier as she
passed on as open-mouthed serpents ;
might have done. But she gave no
heed to them, nor to the thick smoke j
which surrounded her aud made breath-
ing hard, and threatened to overcome
her. On she went, along the hall and
up the second and last flight of stairs.
She breathed in gasps now; bnt still she 1
did not pause. But as she climbed she
muttered a prayer that she might not be
too late.
At last she came to a closed door upon
the top floor. Upon this she knocked
violently, and immediately It was opened
to her. A young woman stood facing
Madame Bouvier, while a little boy with
aoltly curling light hair clung to her
skirts.
“Come,” said Madame quickly.
•There is lire. Come!”
“Oh!” shrieked the young woman,
and taking her boy’s hand iu hers," she
would have rushed out into the hallway
and to the stairs, but Madame Bouvier
stopped her.
“No,” she said, “not that way. The
stairs will be gone.” And she forced
the young woman, who waiso frightened
: that lay utterly lost her wits, back into
| quick the room again and closed the door; but,
j as she was, before this was done
; smok". enough had como in to make it
j ' of difficult,to th%? (lames see or could breathe. be heard The crackling without,
\ and ifi'dame Bouvier knew well enough
j how Imminent was the danger.
j this “Come," l\ she here said is again. husband “Come— ? lie
j way. your
j is out? Good!"
< She hurried the others toward a dark
close! , stairs, she knew, lead-
wnere were
I ing to au-opening to the roof. The door
j first was unlocked; the stairs and and Madame unbolted Bouvier the went scut-
j tle-Jf&tening ajp and threw the back,
cover
( j The little breath of fresh air was good to
her and grateful; but turning without
! hesitation she went down the narrow
I stairs again. The younger woman was
faint with fright. She was barely able to
[ stand erect; but Madame Bouvier pushed
her <jn and up the stairs. Theu the fresh
air revived her, and Madame hastened
back for the little boy who was crying
pitifully. Louise Bouvier lifted him
tenderly and carried him up the stairs
and placed him in his mother’s arms.
Then unmindful of her fatigue, or, in-
deed in the excitement, unconscious of
it, she returned again to the rooms be¬
low. From room to room she ran, from
hanging hook to hook. “They must not
lose .anything,” she said aloud to her¬
self.
But by this time there was a great
noise in the street below, for alarm had
been given and the firemen with theii
apparatus had already come. Some were
breaking inethe door the better to find
aud meet and fight the fire. Others ran
through neighboring houses to the roofs
and on the roof of the burning building
they found faint but safe a woman with
a child holding fast to her. Other fire-
men raised tall ladders to the upper
don of the burning house, and up
thes climbed men who broke in the
windows, and bravely entered and
gro ' about in the thick smoke to find
if by any chance there might* ylt be a
living person there. On the floor near
the steep narrow stairs leading to the
roof they found Louise Bouvier. She
was dead. The flames had not reached
her and she had not suffered much, and
in her arms was a great bundle of cloth-
ing.—The Epoch,
A Dead Man’s Eyes.
“It was a strange and dreadfully re-
alistic presentiment that the fireman on
the engine which killed Rice had last
night,” went on Bockrath after a painful
pause.
“Since the death of Rice the fireman,
try as hard as he may,he cannot drive the
accident out of his mind. It appears
vividly before him at all times—-on and
off duty.
“Last night, after firing up, the fire¬
man remarked to the engineer, ‘Danny,
I see the eyes of Pat Rice on the track.’
“The engineer tried to allay the fears
of the fireman.
“ ‘Danny, it is no use for you to say
that,’ he replied. ‘I see Pat Rice on the
track, and I believe that it bode3 evil—
another accident. I am going up the
track.’
“Saying this the fireman jumped from
the cal).
“Walking heTnade up the track about twenty-
five feet the dreadful discovery
that his presentiment presaging accident
W as too true. There, with his head
resting on the rail, was the body of the
prostrate man.
“He was lying in exactly the found same
way as .f am es Alurphy, who was
yesterday afternoon crashed by a flat-
car> aut } which was ‘shot out’ by the
same engine,
“This man seemed to be in a stupor,
aac l was removed to a position of safety.’
_Sacramento (Cal.) News.
The Mocking Bird is Praised,
As the one American bird of all other!
w hi c h j)r. j{ U3S recommends for
acclimatization in Geimany.England and
other parts of Europe where the winters
are not too severe, he mentions the
moc kj ng bird. “Not only is this one of
the most highly prized singers,” he says,
ujj U t this bird is also one of the most
efficient, because one of the largest ^insects, and
voracious destroyers of
} lence 0 f grea t benefit to the agriculturist,
This is also true of their nearest relatives,
especially the cat bird and of the blue
j ay> oriole and other insect feeders,
Hven the two beautiful grosbeaks, the
rosy-breasted and the cardinal one, would
e 0 f vastly more benefit than injury to
t [ is f atlue r. They feed their young
a i mos t, exclusively on insects, especially
caterpillars and larvae. Their prime
value, ol course, would consist in their
being birds of decorative plumage as
wc [j as songsters. The same might be
sa ;q 0 f the American thrushes, finches,
e t c> Both the American indigo and
purple finch would be of use to farmers
ar0 und orchards. Their accession to the
ranks of our native birds, therefore, would
mean a distinct advantage.”--Chicago
Herald.
WORDS OF WISDOM.
No man ever loved a woman while he
was busy.
Few of us give our critics the attention
they <;■
You can often measure a mail’s debts by
the size ot his diamonds.
Fierce disputes arise occasionally in
which both parties are right.
After a man passes fifty he has more
friends in the next world than he has in
this.
It is a great deal easier to jump out of
the frying pan than it is to jump out of
the lire.
Tnoro are not many men so good that
they can do right without, first having a
struggle.
There are too many men who sneer at
file importance of going home promptly
at meal time.
A sensitive man carries his heart in his
sleeve, and every man who passes him
rubs against it.
A great man does not swagger or strut,
but tlie little man who has been told he
looks like him does.
After they aro married, a man’s idea
of comfort seems to be the privilege of
sitting around in his shirtsleeves.
The young man in search of a wife
goes about looking for an ideal woman.
The older mm: goes about looking for a
practical woman when he wants to wed.
The man who is always anticipating
happiness to-morrow is a good deal hot¬
ter oil,anyway, than the man who spends
his time thinking how wretched he was
day before yesterday.
Cultivating and Cooking Cassava.
The cultivation of cassava gives very
little trouble. A heap ol earth is scraped
together, and three or four cuttings are
pushed into the loose dirt, About two
months afterward the weeds are hoed out
and the earth is gathered about the roots.
Nothing more is uecessary. In the
country of the Balolo, near the equator,
it is always summer, so that it is a
matter of little or no consequence what
time of year crops arc planted. In tin
same field both cassava and Indian corn
may be soon at all seasons, aud in all
stages of growth.
The cassava root, when full grown, is
often as large and stout as a man’s arm.
The tubers are dug up and boiled, or
they are peeled and dried in the sun, or
smoked in the house or on a framework
of poles in the forest. Then they will
keep for any length of time, and when
cooked for a few minutes they become
very palatable to hungry Balolo. Tht
luxuriance of growth that one sees in au
African cassava field would surprise a
Floridian or even a dweller in tropicn!
Brazil.
The favorite method of cooking the
cassava root is to make it into besomba,
a kind of pudding or moist, solid bread.
The roots are first soaked in running
water for a few days, When the water
is deep the cassava is put into a basket
which is tied to a stake. After soaking
for several days the rods become quite
soft; the bark-like skin is then rubbed
off, and the roots are pounded iu wooden
mortars. The pestles are sometimes
made of a hard wood-like teak, but a
piece of elephant’s tusk is preferred.
When a woman pounds cassava she sits
on the ground with the mortar between
her knees and holds the pestle wi^h both
hands. The mashed cassava is wrapped
up in plantain leaves, tied with string
made from the tough, fibrous root of a
vine, and goes into the family pot.
When ready for the table it appears of
about the same consistency as cheese, and
is rather solid food, but very nourishing.
The taste i3 rather sour, but not at ail
unpleasant even to a civilized palate.—
Nesv York Independent.
How to Read the Tongue.
The principle involved in the old say¬
ing, “The man who is his own lawyer
has a fool for his client,” holds good,
ttiough in a less degree, of the man who
dallies with home remedies when severe
sickness is imminent, instead of calling
in professional medical aid. Neverthe¬
less there are certain indications of dis-
order which every one .should bo able to
read the significance of, and foremost
among these is the appearance of the
tongue. The Medical Adviser gives a
few concise hints which will Ire usefuL
in this relation. The perfectly healthy
tongue is clean, moist, lies loosely in the
mouth, and has no prominent papillae.
The tongue may he furred from local
causes or sympathy with the stomach,
intestines or liver. The dry tongue oc¬
curs most frequently iu fever, and indi¬
cates a nervous piostration or depression.
A white tongue is diagnostic simply of
the feverish condition, with perhaps a
sour stomach. \Yhen it is moist and
yellowish brown it shows disordered di¬
gestion; when dry and brown, a low
state of the system, possibly typhoid.
When it is dry and red and smooth, in¬
flammation, gastric or intestinal, is at
hand. When the papillae on the end of
the tongue are raised and very red, “the
“strawberry tongue” is developed, and
that means scarlet fever. A sharp-
pointed red tongue suggests brain irrita-
tion or inflammation, and a yellow coat¬
ing indicates liver derangement. It will
thus be seen that it is worth while to ac¬
quire the reading of a health barometer
at once so useful and so handy.—
Courier-Journal.
There are thirty colored man in the
priesthood America. of the Protestant Episcopal
Church of
NO. 12.
why?
I wonder why, six months agc\
When we two met to say good-by,
And roses tossed their scented snow
To wooing winds that whisperod nigh;
When sunlight fell in glittering showers
The blossom-laden boughs among.
And all the earth was bright with dowel’s,
And all the air was glad with song;
That, even though you bent and kissed
The tearful cloud upon my face,
I only saw a world of mist
Which held no beauty and no grace I
1 wonder why, now days are cold.
And no gay wing th> copnica stirs;
Now snow lies thickly o’er the world,
And mournful winds aro in the firs:
Nor sun, nor bird, nor flower, 1 miss,
Because at tbo old place we stand,
(There are no tears for you to kiss,)
And once more whisper hand in hand:
That though the earth is wrapped in gloom,
And leaden clouds shut out the sky,
My world seems filled with light and bloom
And summer warmth—1 wonder why!
—K. Matheson, in Chambers’s Journal.
PITH AND POINT.
Men of positive convictions—State
prison inmates.—Lowell Courier.
One of the hardest lines of duty to a
woman is the clothes line. — Dallas
News.
The woman who blames herself for a
man’s misdeeds is apt to find him cheer¬
fully acquiescing in her views.—Indian¬
apolis Journal.
“What do you think of your new
governess, Tommy?” “Oh, she’s all
right for a beginner, but she’ll soon
learn."—Boston Post.
“Buntfo is very aristocratic, is he
not?” “Yes, indeed; he refused to
marry a lady because she had a low
voice.”—Boston Gazette.
Passenger (familiarly to street-car con¬
ductor)—“How are you this mornin*?”
Conductor (extending his hand politely)
—“Fare.”—Lowell Citizen.
Ethel—“Jones is a very melancholy
man.” Reid—“Yes. He was so well
brought up in his youth that he’s never
been able to get any fun out of life.”—•
Brooklyn Life.
Prisoner (who lias just been success¬
fully defended by his attorney on a
charge of burglary, eagerly)—“You’ll
defend me next time, too, won’t you?”
Fliegende Blauttur.
It is difficult to say which is the more
exasperating, the man who treads on your
heels on the public sidewalk or the man
who in front of you will persist in keep¬
ing his heels in the way of your toes.—
Boston Transcript.
Mr. Bunker (trying to establish a
basis of conversation)—“A nice cup of
tea is very nice. Don’t you think so?”
Miss Hill—“I cannot quite agree with
you. A nice cup of tea may be nice, but
it takes a very nice esip of tea to be very
nice.”—Chicago Tribune.
Elderly Widow—“Well, there! I be¬
lieve I’ve made all the bequests I wish to
make, still I find $10,01)0 remaining.”
Mutual Friend—“Oh, that’s all right.
It will take all of that to prove you were
of sound mind wheu you made your
will.”—Pittsburgh Bulletin.
Anxious Wife—“What is his ailment,
doctor?” Physician—“I pronounce it
paresis, madame.” Boston Sick Man
(feebly)—“According to—recent au¬
thorities, you—don’t pronounce it—cor¬
rectly, The—accent—is on the—first
syllable.”—Chicago Tribune.
“What is the matter, Airs. Golden?
You look like you had seen a ghost?”
“Ah, Airs. Covenhaven, I was nearly
killed just now?” “How did it happen,
Mrs. Golden?" “Mrs. Fieury, who
lived in number twinty-siveu has been
run over by an electric car. I live in
number twinty-six; suppose it had been
me!”—Pharmaceutical Era.
A Alaine woman sent to the house of
her nearest neighbor and requested the
loan of a new pair of scissors. The
neighoor was using them, and sent back
word accordingly. The would-be bor¬
rower was not to be rebuffed so easily,
and presently her little girl appeared the
second time to say: “.Mother wants to
know if you will lend her a quarter to
buy a pair of scissors with?”—iLewistou
Journal.
Why the Irish Like Green.
A well known writer for one of the
standard publications of the United
States in summing up the Irishman’s le¬
gends, tastes, fads, etc., has this to say
in regard to their preference* for green:
“The early Celts worshiped the dawn
and the sunrise. It is more >hau prob¬
able, therefore, that their liking for the
color green, which we see in their flags,
sashes, etc., arose from a mistake among
those who had lost a thorough knowl¬
edge of the Irish language. The sun,
in Celtic, is called by a word pro¬
nounced exactly like our word “greeD,"
and it is likely that the Irish fondness
for that color arose throuh the striking
similarity of the two words. In the same
way when we talk about a greenhouse
we think they are called so because
plants are kept green in them during the
winter*, yet it is far more probable that
that the word Is derived from the old
Celtic word for sun, because greenhouses
are so built as to catch the rays aud heat
of the sun and store them for future use.
—St. Louis Republic.
Experiments indicate that the sugar
beet industry can be carried on profit¬
ably in New Zealand.