Newspaper Page Text
QKfe (Tfliinfji HjWMjf,
VOL. 111.
Advertising Kates.
One square, first insertion $ 75
Each subsequent insertion 50
One square three months 5 00
One square six months 10 00
One square twelve months 15 00
Suarter column twelve months... 30 00
•ilf column six months 40 00
Half column twelve months 60 00
One column twelve months...... 100 00
BSP 1 Ten lines or less considered o square.
All fractions of squares are couuted as full,
•quarts,
NXWSPAPKR DtemONS.
1. Any person who takes a paper regu
larly from the post office—whether directed j
to his name or another’s, or whether he "has
subscribed or not—i 9 responsible for the
payment.
2. If a person orders his paper discontin
ued, he must pay all arrearages, or the pub
lisher may continue to send it until payment
is wade, and collect the whole amount,
whether the paper Je taken from the office or
««t.
8. The courts have decided that refusing
to take newspapers and periodicals from the
pestoffice, or removing and leaving them un
called for, is prima facie evidence of inten
tional fraud.
TOWS DIR KOTO RY.
M ayor —Thomas G. Barnett.
Commissioners —VV. W. I’nrnipseed, J. 8.
Vfyatt, K G. Harris, E. It. James.
Clerk —E- G. Harris.
Treasurer —W. S. Shell.
Marshals—S. A. Beldine, Marsh*!.
J. W . Johnson,Deputy.
JUDICIARY.
A. M. Spekr, - Judge.
F. D. Dismukk, - - Solicitor General.
Butts—Second Mondays in March and
September.
Henry—This; Mondays in April and Oc
tober.
M onroe—Fourth Mondays in February,
and August,
Newton—Third Mondays in March and
September.
Pike—Second Mondays in April aud Octo
ber.
Rockdale—Monday after fourth Mondays in
March and September
Spalding—First Mondays in February
and August
Upson—First Mondays in May and No
vember.
CHURCH DIRECTORY.
Methodist Episcopal Chuboh, (South,)
Rev. Wesley F. Smith, Pastor. Fourth
Sabbath in each month. Sunday-school 3
t. v. Prayer meeting Wednesday evening.
Methodist Protestant Church. First
Sabbath month. Sunday-school 9
A. M.
Christian Church, W.S. Fears, Pastor.
Second Sabbath in each month.
Baptist Church, Rev. J. P. Lyon, Pas
ter. Third Sabbuth in each month.
CIVIC SOCIETIES. .
Pink Grovk Lodqb, No. J 77. F. A. M
Stated communications, fourth Saturday in
«aeh month.
DOCTORS.
»R. J. C. TURNIPSEED will attend to
all calls day or night. Office i resi
dence, Hampton, Ga.
B\R. W. H. PEEBLES treats all dis-
J ' eases, and will attend to all calls day
and night. Office at the Drug Store,
Broad Street, Hampton, Ga.
DR. N. T. BARNETT tenders his profes
sional services to the citizens of Henry
and adjoining counties, and will answer calls
day or night. Treats all diseases, of what
ever nature. Office at Nipper’s Drug Store,
Hampton, Ga. Night calls can be made at
my residence, opposite Berea church. api26
JF PONDER, Dentist, has located in
* Hampton, Ga., and invites the public to
call at his rooji. upstairs in the Bivins
House, where he will be found at all hours
Warrants all work for twelve moDtbs.
LAWYERS.
JNO. G. COLD WELL, Attorney at Law,;
Brooks Station, Ga. Will practice in
the countiea composing the Coweta ami Flint
River Circuits. Prompt attention given to
commercial and other collections.
TC. NOLAN: Attorney at Law. Mc
• Donough, Georgia. Will practice in
the couoties composing the Flint Circuit;
Ihe Supreme Court of Georgia, and the
United States District Court.
WM. T. DICKEN, Attorney at Law, Lo~
cust Grove, Georgia, (Henry county.)
Will practice in the counties composing the
Flint Judicial Circuit, the Supreme Court of
Georgia, and the United States District
•Court. apr27-ly
GEO. M. NOLAN, Attorney at Law.
McDonough, Ga. (Office in Court house)
Will practice in Henry and adjoining coun
ties, and in the Supreme and District Courts
of Georgia. Prompt attention giv°n to col
lections. mch23-6ia
JF. WALL, Attorney at Law, //amp
. ton.Ga Will practice in the countiee
composing the Flint Judicial Circuit, and
,tfce Supreme and District Courts of Georgia.
Prompt attention given to collections. ocs
EDWARD J. REAGAN, Attorney at
law. Office on Broad Street, opposite
the Railroad depot, Hampton, Georgia.
Special attention given to commercial and
other collections, and cases in Bankruptcy.
BF. McCOLLUM. Attorney and Cnnn
• sellor at T.iw, Hampton, Ga. Will
practice in Henry, Clayton, Fayette, Coweta,
Pike, Meriwether, Spalding and Bails Supe
rior Courts, and in the Supreme and UaHed
States Courts Collecting claims a specialty.
Gttee no stairs in Schmfer's warehouse.
BEGINNING AGAIN.
When sometimes sur feet grow weary
On the rugged hills of life—-
The pn'h stretching lo: g and dreary
With trial and labor rife—
We pause on the toiisome journey,
Glancing backward in vulley and glen.
And sigh with an infinite longing
. To return and begin aga n.
For behind is the dew of the morning,
In all its freshness and light,
And before are doubts and shadows.
And the chill and gloom of the night.
We remember the sunny places
We passed so carelessly then,
And ask, with a passionate longing,
To return and begin again.
Ah, vain, indeed, is the asking!
Life’s duties press all of us on,
And who dare shrink from the labor,
Or sigh for the sunshine that’s goneT
And it may be not far on before us
Wait fairer places than then—
Life’s paths may y<-t lead by still waters,
Though we may not begin agaiu.
Forevermore upward and onward
Be our paths on the hills oi life,
And soon will a radiant dawning
Transfigure the toil and the strife ;
And our Father's band will lead us
Tendi rly upward then ;
In the joy and peace of a fairer world
He’ll let us begin again.
Behiad a Blue Veil.
BY BOTH RANSOM.
•‘Me?” cried Mr. Purple, with a short,
derisive laugh, as be turned away from the
looking-glass, where he had been sprinkling
bis ambrosial locks with Jean Maria Purina
cologne. “Me carry a great square-shoul
dered market-basket through the streets?
Upon my word, Kitty, I think it’s pretty
cool <sf you te expect it of me 1”
“It's only as far as aunt Pouncet’s,” said
Mrs. Purple. “Two mince pies, a cold roast
fowl, and a jar of cranberry jelly, for ber
birthday dinner.”
“Oh, confound aunt Pouncet 1" said Mr.
Purple, bultouing a pair of lavender kid
gloves with great nicety and precision.
•‘Aunt Pouncet is ray godmother,” said
Kitty Purple, with tears in her eyes.
"She is an old nuisance !” pronounced Mr.
Purple. “Can’t you send the girl ?”
“Mary Ann has sprained ber ankle,” said
Mrs. Purple.
“Hire a boy,” suggested the husband,
“I don’t know of anyone to hire,” said
Mrs. Purple; “and besides, I particularly
wished to go myself. Aunt Pouncet is so
very particular!”
“Old dragonesses like that have no busi
ness to be particular!” said Mr. Purple
“And besides, she lives down in that crazy
old rookery of a place by the river, where
it’s as much as a man’s life is worth togo— *’
“Ob, she don’t live there any longer!”
eagerly interrupted Kitty. “She has moved
to—”
“Where is my hem-stitcbed pocket-hand
kerchief?” interrupted her husband, imperi
ously. “And my muffler? There, there,
Kitty I You’re a very good, dutiful little
girl; but I’ve no desire to know where your
blessed old euut Pouncet bas moved to
And, once for all, I desire you to understand
that I never will carry a basket through the
streets of Philadelphia 1 It’s against ray
principles to make a market maD or an ex
press agent of myself. So by-by until eve
ning I” ’
And with a wave of his lavender kid
fingers, Mr. Purple departed for the store,
leaving bis wife in a sort of indignant de
spair.
“It’s too bad of George!” said Kitty,
with a sudden April showet'of tears. “And
we not married a year yet I He said he’d
go through fire and tempest for me before
we were married, and now he isn’t even will
ing ’o carry a market basket half a rioz-n
blocks J He declared he’d die for me ; and
laet night he went deliberately to the theatre
and left me sitting alooe by the fire at home.
And when I asked him why he didn't take
me, he burst out laughing, and said. ‘Never
once thought of you, my dear ’ And I’m
almost certain he went with thoue Bloom
inglia les ; and Bell is tuck a flirt ; and Mary
Mason says they were engaged onee—Bell
Blooujingdale and my huaband. Ob, dear!
ob, dear ! Why didn’t I take aunt Pouncet’a
advice and remain Ringlet George hasn’t
called me an angel for at least six raootfes;
and he scolded dreadfully yesterday when be
found that button of! his shirt collar ; and
he mml he thought it unnecesMrily extrava
gant when I aiked him for money to buy
three yards of velvet to remodel my old black
grot gram walking suit. Upon the whole,
Ido think I was mors radependeot when I
was pltio Kitty Kingsdowoe, and gave
HAMPTON, GEORGIA, MARCH 28, 18m
lessons in music, and wax-flower making,
and water color painting. And, eh, dear!
when we were up at the park, skating, last
week, he strapped on Flora Wiley’s skates
so gallantly, and left me to struggle with
my own, and then pretended he supposed
mine were all fast-ned And when Flora
slipped, he flew to help her up, and found
her muff, and guided her all nroand upon his
arm ; and when f got that bad full by the
fence, he only laughed, and asked me whether
I was practicing for a circus, and if it wasu’t
as easy to get up as it" wus to get down. I
do think George is too bad! And I’ve
almost a mind to tell aunt Pouncet about It.
But Site would be'sure to say, ‘I told you
so!’ and that is something I never couid
endure to hear!"
And sitting solitary and alone by the fire,
Mrs. Purple made np her feminine mind that
aunt Poancet should have her mince pies,
and cold roast fowl, and bottle of claret wine,
happen what would.
4 I’ve carried heavier baskets than that
before 1 was married,” reflected this injured
wile; ‘‘and I can again, before I will allow
poor old aunt Pouncet to be neglected !”
Upon the whole, matrimony had been
rather a disappointment than otherwise to
poor little Kitty Purple. She had supposed, i
like many another sentimental little fiancee ,
that she was to walk on sunset clouds and
roses, and live od nectar and honey dew. all
the rest of her life, after the ring and the
veil and the orange blossoms.
George Purple, however, was rather dis
posed to be thoughtless and selfish, and
Kitty’s disallusioD had been more sudden
than that of many brides. She had expected
love in a cottage, all gable ends, plate-glass
and inlaid wood, and, instead, Mr Purple
bad inducted her into rather an indifferent
style of -flat,” wi'h a gentleman overhead
that gave lessons on the violin, and a lady
below who owned nine noisy children. And
npoD the whole, Mrs. Kitty Purple wasn’t
quite as rapturously happy as she bad con
fidently expected to be
“I suppose life is a series of disappoint
ments,” thought Kitty. “Oh, dear me I I
didn’t want nine to begin before I bad been
married a year.”
Mr. Purple was coming home that eveniog
in the horse oars. It was what the English
novelists call a “nasty night,” with a sullen
sunset, framed around with flurries of snow,
cold wind, and clouds of dust that penetrated
into one’s bronchial regions with merciless
accuracy. And, of course, the cars were
crowded—and, of course, Mr. Purple retreat
ed behind his newspaper, when an old Irish
woman, with the dressed poultry under her
arm, «Dd the young German fraulein, with
the bundle of ready-made coats, struggled
their way in. Was he, George Gordon
Byron Purple, to sacrifice his comfortable
seat for such as these I
But presently the bell rang again, and a
slight, preity little figure glided in, with a
blue veil twisted around its face, and falling
in fluttering ends behind, the prettiest of
gray-gloved hands, a No. 3 boot, and a huge
basket on her arm.
“By Jove !” reflected Mr. Purple to him
self “a diamond in the rough I A factory
girl, or a little seamstress, bringing home
her Saturday right provisions. I kuow she’s
a beauty. Nobody with a foot and a band
like that could help being pietty.”
Atid he sprang nimhly to his teet, with a
bow that would have doue honor to Beau
Bruinmell himself.
“ l ake this seat, miss.” said he.
“I couldu’t think of it, sir,” lisped a soft
little voice.
“But you must.'” said Mr Purple, gal
lantly relieving her of the basket.
“Don’t let me trouble you with that, sir,”
said the lady.
‘•I assure you it’s oo trouble in the world,”
said Mr. Purple, with another imitation of
Beau Bruinmell.
And he stood there, balancing himself
most uncomfortably, ia the mddle of the
car floor, with the four corners of the huge
wicker basket making themselves most ob
tr«sively ohooxious to the other passengers
aud (be conductor, until at last the blue
veiled bouri rose op.
“Have you far to walk ?” questioned our
hero.
And, as be b«nt over the lady, a delicate
perfume of Lubrn’s violets saluted bia senses
—his favorite extract, of all the flowers of
the field.
“Olt, no 1” fluttered the lady- “Only a
few blocks.”
M r. Purple stepped off the car, also.
“Allow me to carry this basket for you,”
said be.
“Oh. pray, don’t!” said the lady ; “it’s
too heavy.”
“Not in the least,” said Mr. Pnrple.
He walked along, a modern Chevalier
Bayard, hazarding occasional remarks upon
the weather, end wishing bis fair little oom-
psttion wonld put Up her veil just for hi If a
minute—block after block, street crossing
“Tier street crossing, until his arm began to
ache and his courage to Hag. 'This wus
rather more than he hud burgained for.
Suppose the walk should last a mile or so
longer? And with Kitty-jealous, unrea
sonable lit lie Ki ly—waiting for him all
this time!
But, just *.« he was breaking into a sort
of cold perspiration at the idea that this was
to be an endless walk, the yousg lady paused
in froDt of a respectable old red brick house,
with stone steps, and iron railings on each
side.
She ascended these stone steps, Mr. Purple
following Hfter like a docile little dog. She
rang the bell, and presently an old lady, in a
dyid black silk and a white net cap, opened
the door.
“Put down the basket, George,” said the
Indy of the blue veil, lifting that envious
screen nt last, and revealing a pair of spark
ling azure eyes. “ This is aunt Pouncet!”
‘Kitty P’ shouted Mr. Purple.
"Yes, dear," said Mrs Purple.
“What does this mean?"
•‘I didn’t ask you to carry the basket, my
love,” said Mrs.- Purple. “Particularly as
you gave me so distinctly to understand that
you never would curry a basket—a ‘square
shouldered basket,’ the expression was, I
think—through the streets of Philadelphia."
“My dear !” said Mr. Purple.
“Well?” said Mrs. Purple.
“A man is very capable of making a fool
of himself at times."
“So I should think," said Mrs Purple.
So they unloaded aunt Pouncet’s basket,
bade thut astonished old lady good uigbt,
and went home.
But from that night henceforward, Mr.
Purple abomioated the sight of a blue veil ;
for Mrs Pupie hud the advantage of him,
nor did she scruple to use it.
A Deserved Fate.
The awful fate of the professional flirt is
thus vividly depicted by the London Truth :
Ad honest man naturally assumes that a
girl is ingenuous at any rate in her affections
He has a right to suppose, if she displays a
preference for him, that she entertains it;
and if she exhibits this sentiment beyoud a
certain point, be is entitled to conclude that
she will accept him aB a lover, and finally as
a bu-band. io case his means are sufficient
to justify bitn in aspiring to the responsible
position of the head of a household. He has
every cause of complaint if, after leading
him to believe himself engaging, a young
lady refuses to be engaged to him. It can
not but be mortifying to a man to feel affec
tion for a girl, which she shows do symptom
of returning ; yet this is a lot to which no
brave mao would demur. It has happened
to some of the best, the most virtuous, the
most distinguished, and even the most fas
cinating of the male species. But it must be
something more than mortifying to a rnun to
fall in love, and to be made to fall in love
with a girl who, all tbc time she was leading
him on, was calculating what a triumph it
would be to drive him oil 'That there are
girls who do this ia certain ; and they are the
girls who get the “no end of offers” Once
a girl permits herself to indulge in this pas
time, habit soon becomes a second nature,
aud sbe ends by being as incapable of loving
a man as of not wanting men to love her. Al
ter a t ime she ends her career of disenchanting
then by herself becoming anything but en
chanting Sbe gets “blown upoo,” and the
result of her numerous ofler* is that she can
not fiud a husband. It is not that men be
come afraid of being rejected by her, but
rather that they would dread being accept
ed She may still maintain all the deport
ment ol a successful flirt, and some men may
yet flirt with ber. But they go no further.
She must console herself with her doubtful
reminiscences. Her passion for homage bas
survived in all its intensity; but it is a fire
fed with very little fuel. It will then be
found that she seeks comfort in imagining
that meo are still proposing to her, and she
drops mysterious bints as to lovers who have
still to be discarded. People smile and pity
ber. Yet sbe scarcely deserves to be pitied.
She forgot that admirable truth :
“He comes too near who comes to be de
nied.”
And after having spent her youth in denying
others, sbe bus to pass the middle age in de
nying herself.
Giu icon Cook, a Calvin Baptist preacher,
welt known in this vicinity a quarter of a
ceotury ago, was a man very eccentric io
speech, even to bis lust earthly moments. A
few hours previous to bis death, bis brother,
also a pieaeber, came to bis bedside and in
quired, “Do you think you are dying, Gid
eon ?” And the reply, sharp ami quick,
came, “Dou’t know—can’t tell; never died ”
—Biddeford Miniature.
Drifting Apart.
For one friendship that is destroyed by a
sudden blow, thousands die and pass
by that slow sail process known as drilling
npirt. The fracture caused by a short,
sharp quarrel, harsh edged ns if may be, can
often be repaid by good will and mutual de
sire, so that the friemhliip shall be rece
mented and made as good as new—in all
save the sear ; and that neypr goes. But
the gradual widening of what was ut first an
almost microscopic rift can neither he pre
yented or mended. You might as well try
to fill up the center of Mount Vesuvius
with pebbles from 'Torre del Greco as to
bridge over the constantly increasing dis
tance between two hearts that have begun
to drift apart. No method known to ordi
nary man is of the smallest avail. You do
your best to seem the samo as before. You
use the same words of endearment which
habit has made familiar, and perform the
same little offices which affection once made
pleasant privileges; but the spirit which
gave them life and mending has gone from
them, and you are simply galvanizing the
dead At first you are only conscious of a
certain weariness where you formerly had
happiness ; but as time goes on and knowl
edge becomes clearer, this weariness changes
into active disinclination, then into repug
nance, and finally to loathing. If you arc
bound by such personal conditions as yon
can not break, and therefore are forced to
conceal what you feel, your loathing for
your circumstances takes on the additional
contempt for yourself, that you are—albeit
obliged to' be—hypocritical and insincere.
For when you have confessed to yourself
that your terms of endeai merit are false,
your little offices of whut wus once a loving
friend-hip only a corvee that you are bound
to perform, then you stand face to face with
pretense and hypocrisy which leave you
neither pride nor self-respect.
So must it ever be. We build for eter
nity, and the frost cracks, the rain rots, the
wind blows down our fragile castle that
looked as if it would stand till the crack of
doom. We love, and changes come into our
lives, our souls, which carry us on to other
currents where we drift away from what was
once part of our very selves, and Iparn to
live without that which once made all life
sweet Partly by folly, and partly by the
force of circumstances which nothing can
arrest, these great changes come about. But
whether by our own doii gor not, we have
one duty that is paramount, namely, to be
true to ourselves, and bruve enough to ac
knowledge thing* as they are—to cling while
we can. and when we can no longer, to con
fess the riving, and cease to prstend the
friendship which without truth is without
value—an insult, out au honor—anguish, not
delight.
Gentleness.
Whoever understands his own interests,
and is pleased wilh tlie beautiful, rather than
the deformed, will be careful to cherish the
virtue of geutleness. It requires but a slight
knowledge of human nature to convince us
that much of our happiness in life depends
upon the cultivation of this virtue. The
mao ol wild, boisterous spirits, who gives
loose rein, to his temper, is, generally speak
ing, a strauger to happiness: be lives in a
conlinuul storm—the biller waters of con
tention and strife are always swelling np in
bis peace, and impairing its beautiful influ
ence on all wilh whom he is connected. He
excites (be disgust and ill will of those who
are acquainted with his character, and but
few can be found to wish him success in any
of bis undertakings. Not so in the influence
of gentleness. This virtue will assist its
possessor in all bis lawful undertakings ; it
will often render him successful when no’h
ing else could ; it ia exceedingly lovely, and
attractive in appearance; it wins the heart
of all—it is even stronger than argument,
and would often prevail when that would be
powerless and ineffectual; it shows that be
ia above tbe vulgar, whose characteristic is
to storm and rage like the troubled ocean,
at every little adversary or disappointment
that crosses their paths; it shews that he
can soar away in the brigut atmosphere of
good feelings aud live in continual sunshine,
when uU around him are enveloped in clouds
and darkness, and driven about like maniacs
in the sports of tbe r passions. The most
favorable situations in life, the most lovely
objects in nature, wealth, and all that is
calculated to iDcrease the happiness of muD.
lose tbeir charms upon a heart destitute of
Ibis virtue.
This fashion reporter who wrote with
reference to a belle. “Her feet were encased
in shoes that might be taken for fairy bootß,'’
tied bis wardrobe up io a handkerchief and
left for parts uukuowu, wheu it appeared
next morning : “Her feet were encased in
shoes that might be taken for ferry-boats.’’
The Family Album.
There is a sort of d- lirioos joy in iookii g
tirer a family allium, especially if it is a very
old album with sprained back, which occas
ionally and unexpectedly drops thrmnrh rour
fingers, leaving a couple of eou-ios in one
band and three aunts in the other, and the
balance of the family under the chair.
’The first picture is of an eld gentleman
with an expression of warv cautiousness in
his face, as if he were engaged in dodging a
wild hull and wus somewhat doubtful us to
the result.
Opposite to him is the grandmother, a
pnfient-TooWng fady in a black dress, with a
hook in one hand and a pair of spectacles ia
the other There is a feeble but weH-miao
ing eflbrj to look safe in her face
On the next leaf is a middle-ngd man
looking as if he hid been suddenly shot
thraugb the roof of a starch factory, and bad
landed in the middle of a strange country.
Opposite is the picture of his wife, who
had heard a rumor of the catastrophe, and
has made up her mind to be prepared for the
worst.
Then follow the little children—little girls
looking so prim as to make you squirm, and
little boys with their eyes tuned on their
noses and on their faces nn expression of
unearthly solemnity
'Then follow the uncles taken in the’r
overcoats, with a spreading inclination in
their clothes, hair and face, as if they were
bound to get their money’s worth ; and nnuta
with warts on their noses, and varnish ia
their hair, and preposterous lace collars
about their necks.
'Then there is the bashful young mno,
|>enned opposite the aggressive young lady,
whom heaven and married womeu have de
signed for each other.
'There are uteo tire pictures of cousin Alex
and his wife, who stopped here when on their
tour, and no young man looks at him with
out retiring und registering a terrible vow
never to get married.
Then there are two or three fiiie looking
corsairs of no particular identity, aud s veral
broken spirited women with babies io their
arms—directly and indirectly related to the
owners of the album—aud tbc exhibition
closes.
A Tyrolean Cocrtiko Custom. —The
Tyrolean observe a siugul.tr custom in mak
ing proposals of marriage. The first time a
young man puys a visit as an avowed lover,
he brings with him a bottle of wine, of which
he pours out in a gluss, and presents to the
object of his desires. If she accepts it, tbs
whole affair is settled. Very often the girl
hus not yet mude up ber mind, and tbeu she
will take refuge in excuses, so as not ts drink
the wine, and yet not refuse him point blank,
for that is considered a gross insult, proving
that she had been merely trifling with the
affections of tier lover. She will, for in
stance, maintain that the wine looks sour, or
that wine disagrees with her, or that she is
afraid of getting tipsy, or that tbs priest bas
for hidden her to take any. In f act, she
makes use of any vuoterfuge that presents
itself at that moment. Tbs purport of these
excuses is that she has not yet come to a
decision, and that the wine-offering is pre
aiuture Shy lovers find this custom a
singularly happy institution.
A famii.y is like UDto an equipage. First,
the father, the draught boree; next, the
boys, the wheels, for they are always
tunning around; then the girls, they
are surrounded by fellows. The baby
occupies the iapboard, and the mother
well, what's a wagon without a tongue,
anyhow f
Wsn a dog snaps at a fly that has been
fooling around him four or five hours, and
misses it, he feels just like a girl who pours
thg full fide ot ber affections over a young
mao and suddenly discovers that it won t
soak io.
When we are young we waste a great
deal of time in imagining what we will do ■
when we grow older, and when we are old.
we waste ao equal amount of time io lying
about what we did when we were young.
“A slitter in the baud is worth two on
my leet,” soys the stern mother, as she
doubles hei youngster into a parabolic curve
uctoss ber kuee. Tbeu knee set up a howl.
Many a mao who prays not to be led into
temptation would be awfully disappointed if
bis prayer was granted.
'Hie quiet fellow in the corner who let*
bis rival do all the talking generally marries
tli* girl.
A woman too often reasons from ber
heart; hence two-thirds of her mistakes and
ber trouble.
Tuk man who tries to build a fire with
wet wood acts io a dausp-feeJisb manner.
* Better be beset by busmens diff)cullies
than ron down by your wife’s folks.
NO. 38