Newspaper Page Text
ill Hewn (fuirolii WtcMjj,
VOL. 111.
Advertising Kates.
One square, first insertion .$ 75
Each subsequent insertion 50
One square three m0nth5........ 500
One square six months 10 00
One square twfiire months 15 00
Suarter column twelve months... 30 00
ulf column six months 40 00
Half column twelve months 60 00
One column twelve months.' 100 00
*6?*Ten lines or less considered a sqnare.
All fractious of squares are counted as full
squares,
NEWSPAPER DECISIONS.
1. Any person who talus a paper regu
larly from the post office—whether directed*
to his name or another’s, or whether he has
subscribed or not—is responsible for the
psvment.
2._ If a person orders his paper discontin
ued, he must pay all arrearages, or the pub
lisher may continue to spnd it until payment
is made.* and collect the whole amount,
whether the paper Is taken from the office or
not.
3. The courts Lave decided that refusing
to take newspapers and periodicals from the
postoffice, or removino and leaving them un
called for, is prxma facie evidence of inten
tional fraud.
TOWN DIRECTORY.
Mayor —Thomas G. Barnett.
Commissioners —W. W. rurnipseed.D. B.
Bivins. E. G. Harris, E. R. James.
Clerk —E. G. Harris.
Treasurer —W. S. Shell.
Marshals —S» A. Beldinp, Marshal.
J, W . Johnson,Deputy.
JUDICIARY.
A. M. Speer, - Judge.
K. D. Dismukk, - - Solicitor Genera!.
Butts—Second Mondays in March and
September.
Henry—ThiSe 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 and Octo
ber.
Rockdale —Monday after fourth Mondays in
March and September
Spalding—First Mondays in February
and August.
Opßon First Mondays in May and No
vember.
CHURCH DIRECTORY.
Methodist Episcopal Church, (South.)
Rev. Wesley F. Smith, Pastor Fourth
Suhbath in each month. Sunday-school 3
p. h. Prayer meeting Wednesday evening.
Methodist Protestant Church. First
Sabbath in .each month. Sunday-school 9
A. X.
Christian Church, W. S. Fears, Pastor.
Second Sabbath iD each month.
Baptist Church, Rev. J. P. Lyon, Pas
ter. Third Sabbath in each month.
CIVIC SOCIETIES.
Pine Grove Lodge, No. J 77, F. A. M.
Stated communications, fourth Saturday in
each month.
DOCTORS.
DR. J. C.TURNIPSEED will attend to
all calls day or night. Office t resi
dence, Hampton, Ga.
"IkR. W. H. PEEBLES treats all dis
-I* 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 caD be made at
my residence, opposite Berea church. apr26
JF PONDER, Dentist, has located in
• Hampton. Ga., and invites the public to
call at his room, upstairs in the Bivins
House, where he will be found at all hoars.
Warrants all work for twelve months.
LAWYERS.
TNO. G. COLDWELL, Attorney at I,aw,
w Brooks Station, Ga. Will practice in
the counties composing-the Coweta and Flint
River Circuits. Prompt attention given to
commercial and other collections.
TO. NOLAN, Attorney at Law. Mc
• Donoagh, Georgia: Will practice in
the counties composing the Flint Circuit;
the Supreme Court of Georgia, and the
United States District Court.
WM. T. DICKEN, Attorney at Law. Me
Donougb, Ga. Will practice in the
counties composing the Flint Judicial Cir
cuit, the Supreme Court of Georgis. and the
United States District Court. (Office up
stairs over W. C. Sloan's.} 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. mch23-6m
JF. WALL, Attorney at Law, f/amp
ton.Ga Will practice in the counties
composing the Flint Judicial Circuit, and
the 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 aod
other collections, and cases in Bankruptcy.
BF. McCOLLUM. Attorney and Coun
• sellor at Law, Hampton. Ga Will
practice in Henry*■€ layton/Fayette, Coweta,
Pike, Meriwether, Spalding and Butts Supe
rior Courts, aod tn the Supreme and United
States Courts. Collecting claims a specialty.
CMfce uo stairs in the MelutOsb Bunding.
YOU'LL NEVER GUESS.
I know two eyes, two soft brown eyes,
Two eyes as sweet and dear
As ever danced with gay surprise,
Or melted with a tear ; a
In whose fair rays a heart may bask—
Their shadowed rays serene—
But little maid, you must not ask
Whose gentle eyes I mean,
I know a voice of fairy tone,
Like brooklet io the June,
I'hat sings, to please itself alone,
A little old world tune ;
Whose music haunts the listener’s ear,
And will not leave it hea;
But I shall never tell you, dear,
Whose accents they may be.
I know a golden-hearted maid
For whom 1 built a shrine,
A leafy nook of murmurous shade,
Deep in this heart of mine ;
And in that calm and cool recess
To make her home she came—
But, oh ! you’d never, never guess
That little maiden’s name.
A Speech by Zach. Chandler.
* I don’t reckon yon ever heard the story
of Zuch. Chandler aDd Eugene Hale,” re
maikcd Grandfather Licksbiugle yesterday
evening.
The family said they had heard it a num
ber of times, and, as i( the recollection of it
wa9 too much for them, laughed inordinately.
Grandfather could not be choked off, how
ever, and went right ahead.
“The scene is laid at the residence of
Zachariah Chandler; time, when Eugene
Hale was courting his daughter, the girl
whom he alterward made his wife. Hale
was pretty far gone on Miss Chandler, and
one evening induced three or four amateur
musicians, friend- 1 of his’n, to go around with
him to Chandler’s house and serenade the
girl. The love lorn Hale had a guitar that
he could pick in a doleful sort of manner,
one of the other boys hud a fiddle, another
had an accordeon, and so on. It was about
midnight when the serenadin’party arrived,
and, sneakin’ up in front of the house, they
stood behind the lilacs and struck npeom*
soulful serenade or other. They played
along soft and easy like for about five min
utes, when an up-stairs window was raised,
and who should step gayly forth npon the
piazza but old Z icb himself. Hale told me
afterwards that he fully expected the old
man to blaze away at them with a shotgun,
or at least fire a bucket of slops on their
heads, but he didn’t do nothin’ of the kind.
He hemmed and hawed a while, an’ then,
much to the astonishment of the boys, sailed
in:
“ ‘Fellow-citmens : Of coarse you do not
desire a speech from me at this late hour,
but I wish to thunk you from my heart for
this testimonial of your kind appreciation of
my poor services.’ ”
“Here he paused for cheers,” said grand
father; “but there wasn’t aoy, and be went
on :
“ -I have been laborin’ not for myself, but
for my beloved constituents, and it affords
me onbounded pleasure to know that— ’ ”
“‘Well.l’ll be cussed f exclaimed Hale
to his companions, after be had recovered
from the shock. ‘How the thunder and
Mars coold the old man have made this
mistake ! We ain’t no brass band, are we T
We hain’t been playin’ Hail Co'umbia or
cheering for anybody, have we?’ ”
“‘We’ve been playing “The Venetian
Lover’s Serenade,” ’ said the man with the
fiddle.
" ‘Well, that’s wbat I thought,’ said Hale,
mad as a wet hen.
“All this time,” continued Mr Lick
shingle; "the old man was up there in the
moonlight, talkin’ about the sheep law, the
dog law, the duty of the supervisor, and
that sort of thing.
“ ‘Let us open his rheumy old eyes to the
real situation,’ said Hale, and with that he
began to pick, ‘Come Where My Love Lies
Dreaming.’ The other boys joirfted in, but
every note they struck only seemed to en
thuse the old man more. After breakin’in
on him fifty or sixty times with snatches of
love songs and serenades, and all to no pur
pose, Eugene shouldered his guitar, 6neaked
down through the rose bushes, followed by
bis party, crawled over the fence, an’ left
Mr. Chandler staodin’ on the piazza talkin’
about the star spaogled banner and picturin’
the utter ruin an’ desolation that would fol
low the electioo of tbe opposition ticket io
October.”— Cincinnati Enquirer.
Yassar girl, eating ber first gooseberries:
“Yum—m—m —tn! Wouldn’t I like to see
tbe goose that laid these berries.”
A farmer out West who bought a kick
ing caw three weeks ago, already talks of
withdrawing from the church.
HAMPTON, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, JUNE 27, 1879.
Biography of Methuselah.
What a tremendous boyhood old Methuse
lah bud ! He died at the rather advanced
age of 969 years, about 900 years more than
man’s spau of iife. At that rate, when he
was 200 years old he about equaled the or
dinary lad ol sxteen. He was thirty or
forty before his parents bought him a rattle
to play with, and he didn’t have the measles
or other infantile diseases until he was over
100. lie wusin noliurry about these things,
as he had srt far to go. We imagine that be
was rather a delicate child to begin with, as
most people were who lived to a groat age.
We can imagine his mother’s anxiety with
regard to his delicate constitution, telling
Mrs. Brown across the way, on his nineteeth
birthday, that she was afraid she ‘never
would be able to raise thaLchild.” njllenera
tions of men lived and passed away while he
was going around in petticoats, and he was
almost a centenarian before he got into his
first boots. His father used to lick him
when he was 150, for robbing a neighbor's
watermelon patch.
Young Methuselah was probably in the
vicinity of 100 years old when he was first
sent to school. We can imagine him sitting
on a low bench learning his a-b-abs, among
the great-great-grandchildren of people who
began life when he did. He was mischiev
ous, of course—all boys are, no matter what
their age—(we experienced a slight friski
ness ourself, occasionally.) and had to be
punisbid for it.
“Willium Henry Methuselah, stand np !”
says the teacher, catching him in the very
act of placing a bent pin in a seat where a
schoolmate was about to sit down. “Wlrnt
do you mean by such conduct as this?”
Young Methuselah begins to sniffle and
wipe his eyps with the corner of his jacket.
“One would think,” continues the teacher,
sternly, “that you was'nt over seventy
five or eighty years old by the way you be
have. Instead of that you have already
celebrated your first centennial—almost a
young man, in fact. You ought to be asham
ed ot yourself.”
Then Methuselah Is condemned, ns nn ex
piation. to “sit among the girls” until recess,
Hnd if you think this isn’t an agreeable form
of punishment, you will have to ask some one
older than Methuselah.
Whenever a circus came to town, with
“children half-price” on its bills, young Me
thuselah must have experienced considerable
difficulty in nmking the ticket seller under
stand that he was entitled to go in on a half
price ticket, particularly after he had got
along toward bis two hundredth year. But
he probably did it. Boys are enterprising
and persistent where a circus is concerned.
And we will bet that Methuselah in his
youthful days could accumulate as much old
iron as the next boy, and lay it by lor the
coming show.
When this youngster got into his teens—
say from 200 to 300 years old—he probably
did as other young gentlemen of tender age
do; went around with the girls. It must
have been a little embarrassing to him, after
beauing a young lady about a spell—taking
her to concerts, balls, etc., to discover that
she» waft a great-great-great great-great
grandchild of his father’s friend, but these
things were inevitable onJer the peculiarand
exceptional character of tbe circumstances.
There is no record to show that any woman
lived in his time to an age that would begin
to compare with his. And if there had been
the world would not have known it. At
least, not from ber. She wouldn’t have ac
knowledged to anything over forty had she
lived to twice the age of Methuselah. This
is the kind of a hair-pin a woman is.
Employing the proportion of twenty-one
to seventy to Methuselah's years, we find
that he was a minor until he was 270 years
old. If the laws regarding minors were en
forced in his day, young Methuselah must
have been run out of billiard rooms aod shut
out from bars for over two centuries. And
wbat a sensation must have been created
when lie stepped up to deposit his vote. Of
course be voted for all tbe Presidents from
Washington (with whom he remembers hav
ing shaken hands) down. All old meo do
that. And when he got along in years, say
900 or such a matter, be could sit and tell
the boys abont the hard winter of ’32, and
the panic of '37, and the flood of ’39, and
the hard-cider campaign of ’4O, and all that
sort of thing. This is all we have to write
of Methuselah, tbe original old<st inhab
itant.”
“Ob, yes,” she said, “I’m very fond of
little boys,” and as she tripped oo a string
stretched across the pavement, ehe added,
“I feel as if I con'd eat a couple of ’em this
this minute, raw.”
Teerk is a man in Indiana who takes 32
newspapers, and you might as well try to
ride a whirlwind oo a side-saddle as to at
tempt to impose uoon UiaLmm
A Modern Arabian Niglit.
It was during the reign of the good
Caliph, when Abou Tamerlik came to the
city of Bagdad, threw bis grip-sack on the
counter, and, as he registered, spake cheer
fully unto the clerk, saying :
“A sample-room on the first floor, nnd
send my keyster up right away, and coll me I
for the 6:28 train east in the morning.”
And Busier el Jab, the clerk, looked at
him, but went away to the miiror and gazed
Bthfs hew diamond.
And Abou Tamerlik hied him forth and
went into the booths and bazars, and laid
hold upon the merchants and enticid them
into his room and spread out his samples
and besought them to buy. And when
night was come he slept. Because, he said,
it is a dead town and there is no place tp go.
And bofote the second watch of the. night,
Kbomul cm Uph, the porter, smo'e one of
the panels of his door, and cried aloud :
“Oh. Abou Tamerlik, arise and dress, for
it is train time.”
And A bon rose nnd girt his rain.ent abont
him and hastened down stairs and crept into
the ’bus.
And he marveled he was so sleepy, bei
enuse he knew he went to bed exceedingly
early and marvelously sober.
And when they got to the depot, 10, it
was the mail west, and it was 10:25 p. m.
And Abou Tamerlik swore and reached
for the porter, that he might smite him, and
he said unto him :
“Cany me buck to my own room, and
see that thou call me at 6:28 a m. or thou
diest."
And ere he hnd been asleep even until the
midnight watch, Rhumnl cm Uph smote
again upon the panels of his door and cried
aloud :
“Awake, Abou Tamerlik, for the time
waneth, and the train staveth for no man.
Awake and haste, for slumber overtook thy
servant, and the way is long, and the ’bus
gone.”
And Abou Tamerlik arose and dressed,
und girded up his loins, and set forthwith
great speed, for his heart was anxious. Nev
ertheless he gave Rhumnl cm Uph a quarter
and made him carry his grip, and he cursed
him for a driveling laggard.
Arid when they were come to the train it
was 11:46 p. x., and it was a way freight
going south.
And Abou Tamerlik fell upon Rhumnl
em Uph and srnote him and entreated him
roughly, and said :
“Oh ! pale gray ass of all asses, the
Prophet pity thee if thou cullcst me once
mote before the 6:28 a m. east."
And he gat him into his bed.
Now, when sleep fell heavily upon Abou
Tamerlik, for he was sore discouraged,
Rhumul em Uph kicked fiercely against the
panels of his door and snid :
“Oh! Abou Tamerlik, the drnmmub,
awoke and dress with all speed. It is night
in the valleys but the day star shines on the
mountains. Truly, thy train is eveti now
due at the depot, but the ’bus is indeed
gone.”
And Abou Tamerlik, the drummnh, swore
himself awake and put on his robes and
hastened to the depot, while Rhumul em
Uph, the porter, went before with a lantern.
For it was pitch datk and raining like a
bouse afire.
And when they reached the depot it was
a gravel train going west, and the clock in
the steeple tolled 2 a m.
And A bon Tamerlik fell npon Rhumul
em Uph, the porter, and beat him all the
way home, and pelted him with mud and
broke bis lantern and cursed bint, and he
got him to bed and slept.
Now, when Abou Tamerlik awoke the
son was high, and the noise of the street car
rattled in the street. And bis heart smote
him, and he went down stairs, and the clerk
said to him :
“Oh, Abon Tamerlik, live in peace. It
is too late for breakfast and 100 early for
dinner, nevertheless, it won’t make any dif
ference in my bill."
And Abou Tamerlik. the drummuh, sought
Rhumul em Upb, tbe rorter, and caught
him by tbe beard, and said unto him :
“Oh, chuck el edded pup (which is, Tbou
that skepest at train time !') why bast tbou
forgotten me ?”
And Rhumul em Upb was angry and
said:
“Ob, Abou Tamerlik, tbe drummuh, basty
in speech and slow to think, wherefore
shooldst thou get up at daybreak, when
there is another train goes tbe same way to
morrow morning ?”
But Abou Tamerlik would not hearken
onto him, but paid bis bill and hired a team
and a man to take him to the next town
And be hired tbe team of the livery stable
and be cur.-ed tbe house that be bad put
up at.
Now, tbe livery stable belonged to the
landlord, all the same- But Abou I'amerlik.
The Texan Coivboy.
The Texas cowboy is a rare bird, fie is
a sort of happy.jiok of the wilderness, a.dry
land sailor, who takes his fun in large doses
whenever he g ts to port—port being to him
the nearest town with a dance bouse—his
jun pure deviltry. He can yell louder in an
unearthly key, swagger more and swear
harder than any man of his inches on the
continent, nis dress is evidently ‘intended
to ape the Mexican counterfeit of tlje Span
ish cavalier, with a sneaking regard for borne
conventionalities thrown in. Imagine the
conglomeration! Having no fixity of form
it is wholly indescribable, and varies with
the whim of the individual. Yet he is proud
of his “make up,” and pays particular at
tention to the style of his hat, hoots and
spurs. The hat is an elaborate affair.
Broad-leafed ,tasselled, tinselled, it spreads
its far-reaching shadow over the form of its
festive owner a few acres beyond. His only
pet is his horse; his only toy his pistol; but
be would prefer losing bis horse for a day to
being severed from his six-shooter for a
moment. All his strength is in this toy.
Like the savage Indian, when deprived of his
weapon (of offense always, never oeeded for
defense.) his "heart is on the ground." A
small boy couid thrash him then. Give him
the pistol and “the drop" on a man and ho
will rejoice in his ability to “bore a hole in
him big enough for a good sized dog to
crawl through,” as if the boring process
were something to be exceedingly proud of.
This is because cowards are not hung often
enough in Texas, and the reason they have
ffof been is because they have been employed
nnd protected by the cowman wiho steals,
just like the murderous ward politician might
sometimes be -protected by the dishonest,
corrupt district attorney iu some Northern
cities. We have had some very distinguish
ed cow-boys in this part of the world. Bill
Long ley, who killed thirty seven men in the
course of his brief experience, was a cowboy
most of his time, as was also John Wesley
Hardin, better known us Wes, Hardin, who
has been known to k’ill a man for snoring in
his sleep. These miscreants have had no
such words as fair play in their lexicon. If
they intended to get a quarrel up they first
“got the drop" on their victim, then bullied
him into active resistance, then shot him ‘ in
self-defense.” This sort of cowboy has been
more frequently seen heretofore than at pres
ent, but we have slill a few left. —Fori Worth
[Texas) Cor. N. Y. Herald.
The Bashful Poet and the
Knowing Young Newspaper
Man.
Anybody could tell what he had. Every
man in the sanctum knew in a minute. The
timid knock at the door gave him clear away
at the very start. No man or womtfn ever
knocks at a sanctum door unless he cornea on
tbut fatal errand. Then he came inside and
took of) his hat and bowod all around the
room, when every man on the staff roared
out in terrible chorus. “Come in ! !'’ Then
he esked for tbe editor, and when the under
lings, with a fine mingling of truth and
grammar, poihted to the fbuogest and tbe
newest man ia the office and .yelled “That’s
him I” be walked up to tbe young gentleman
designated, and before he ceuld unroll his
manuscript we knew the subject of it, and a
deep groan echoed around the room.
“Poetry, young mao ?” asked the editor.
“Tea, sir,” said the pOet, “a couple of
triolets and a son rtf t on the marriage of my
sister with an old college friend.”
“Old college friend—male or female, young
mao?” asked the editor, severely.
“Male, sir,” raid the young man.
He said “sir” every time, and every time
he said it all the young gentlemen of the
staff, save the yonng gentleman who person
ated the governor, soick p red. He looked
severe.
“Anything morp, young man ?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” replied the infant Tennyson;
“a kind of an idyl, an ode inscribed ‘To .My
Lost Love?”
“Love Wn lost very long, yonng man ?”
asked tbe journalist, very critically.
“Well, it's immaterial, that is,” stammered
the young man ; “it's indefinite—-it’s—”
‘’•Ever advertised (or it ?” asked tbe re
porter, who was writing a puff for Slab’s
tombstones, but he was soon fiowned down.
“Anything more?’ asked the principal
interlocuior, “anything more, young m»n ?”
“Yes, sir,” wbb tbe hopeful response, “a
threnody in memory of my departed brother.”
“Brother dead, young mao, or ODly gone
j to Sagetown?”
“Dead, sir.”
“Your own brother?”
“No, sir. I never bad a real brother; it’s
1 only imaginary.” *
“Can’t take this, then, young man,” was
tbe chilling reply. “Poetry, to find accep
i taoce with tbe Uawkeue , must be true. Have
Very beautiful. but because it is Dot true.
Now, how much do ydn want for there
others ?” And he fingered them over like a
man haying mink skins.
The poet really didn't know. He had
never publi-bed before ; he had barely dared
hop? to have his verses published at all. A
few copies of the paper containing them, he
was sure—
**oh, no," the editor broke in, “oh, no, no
sir, can’t do that { do business that
Way t if tt poem or sketch Is worth pnhlfil
ing, it wus worth paying for. Would sls
pay yon tor these?”
The poet blushed to the fl<>or with grati
tude, and the youngfhurnalist grandly wrote
out an order and handed to the poet.
“Take that to the court house," he said,
"and the auditor clerk will give you the
money.”
The poet bowed and withdrew, and with
great merriment the journalists burned his
poems and resumed their work.
That wasn't the lunny part of it, however.
The next day the simple-minded poet pre
sented his order to the clerk designated.
And it was so that the clerk owed the paper
eighteen dollars for subscription and adver
tising, und he promptly cached the order and
turned it in when his bill was presented, and
the manager just charged it to the salary ac
count of the smart young journalist who
signed the order, and the happiest man and
the maddest man in America are living in
Builington. One of them is a happy, green,
unsophisticated young machine poet, and the
other is a wide-awake, up-to-snoff, know
the world, get-up and dust young journal
ist, who is already a rival of Horace Oreely
in some of the verbal departments of jour
nalism.—Burlington Hawkei/e.
New Hu util of Sir John Moore.
Not a drum was heard, because the
drummer was not feeling very well and
asked to be excused, nor a funeral note Iff
any kind, as his corpse to the ramparts we
harried ; not a single son-of-a-gun of a sol
dier discharged his farewell shot o’er the
grave where the remains of the late Mr.
Moore were deposited. 'I he larcweil shot
business was omitted on account of the great
scarcity of ammunition. We buried him
darkly at the dead of night, and did the best
job we could for him tinder the circum
stances. We could not borrow, beg or steal
a pick or shovel in the entire neighborhood,
and were obliged to torn tbd sods with oor
bayonets, which by the way was the first,
thing that had beer, turned by said bayonets
since wo had been drafted. We did say all
this by thjg straggling moonbeams’ misty
light and the luuterp dirnly burning, with
just half enough oil in it, and a -strip ot an
old flannel undershirt for a wick. Few and
short were the prayers we said, the chaplain
being home on a furlough and no one within
forty miles to take his place. We spoke
not a word of sorrow, our time being some
what limited, as the enemy was not far dis
tant, and advancing with gigantic strides.
We thought, as we hollowed bis narrow bed
and smoothed down his lonefy pillow with a
canteen, that the foe and stranger would
tread o’er his head, and we far away on the
billow; hot not too far, however, as the
enemy ontnnmbered ns about seven to one.
Lightly they’ll talk of the spirit that’s gone,
and wonder where they can get another flask
filled with the same, and ti’er bis cold ashea
upbraid him, kaowing, of course, that ho is
in no condition to defend him«ell; but little
they'll rick if they let him sleep on in a
grave where a Briton has laid him, and not
bother him to get tip and take out a bqriaf
permit or ask farm to pny ground rent. We
wish here lo correct the impression .that
slowly and sadly we laid him down from the
field of his fame, fresh and gory. We did 1
no such thing. The corpse was washed and
put in good shape, and we defy any man to
show that there was a drop of gore about
him. It is true that we carved not a line
and we raised not a stone, because there was
no stone-mason handy who would do the
Job at reasonable figures. About time
we beard the distant random gun that the
foe wus sullenly firing, so we adjourned the
faneral; left the deceased alone in his glory,
and made ourselves scarce iu that vicinity.
Disbr at a fashionable restaurant:, calling
the waiter’* attention to bis plate—"Wbut
do you call thi9 Stuff?’’ Waiter—“ That,
sir, that's beau soup.” Diner— ‘ Well. I
dou’t want to kaow what it has been, what
is it now ?’’
Now the winds that softly breathe and
the ffoyers that garlands wieatlie a gentle
hint of summer io the mind and
so do beetles, and the spiders, and the ants.
This is the month of roses. Also of
tbornses. Likewise of bugsea oeeses,
and the oiiifksnnoi. Sleep with your head
NO.” 51