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artling Rapidity With Which the Mind Works In Sleep. ME STRANGE EXPERIENCES Event* of a Whole Lifetime May e piit p a st the Dreamer In a Few Mo nients— Queer Results of a Dream Experiment by a Noted Psychologist. A characteristic of dreams which, as rather materialistic Dr. Clarke vs “hints at a life that has neither ■'Inning nor end and is bounded by "limits which human thoughts with which can in pass” is the rapidity cuts happen in the dream world, bus when asleep and dreaming, we c an entire lifetime in a minute; a space of time that is scarcely ore than a second we pass through periences that could not be duplicat in this objective sphere in hours, rliaps in years. Count Lavalette relates that one ght, when imprisoned and under sen iue of death, he dreamed that he ood for five hours at a Paris street rner, where he witnessed a con¬ gous succession of harrowing scenes blood, every one of which wrought s sou! to the highest pitch of excite ent. When he woke he found that had been asleep less than two min in a more recent experiment, made pressly to test the truth of these eories, the subject was aroused from ?ep by a few drops of water being Tinkled upon his forehead. It took t an instant to accomplish tills re It, and yet in that Incalculably brief ace of time the man dreamed of lng on an excursion; of an accident which he w r as plunged into a lake, (1 during the long struggle to escape ath that followed all the experiences his life seemed to flash before him, st as they are said to appear to a rson who is actually drowning. Dreams are tricksters. Professor itchener of Cornell university told 1th gusto of his experience. As a eeiallst in psychology he interested mself in dreams. Like a true scien it, he once set about gathering data, e wanted to know what caused earns, where they came from, what ey meant, and all that. He deter ined to watch himself when he slept id to awake himself at once when > found himself dreaming something value. So, with a notebook on a rlting table near his bed, he forced mself to waken for several nights id to write down, while the dream ipressions were vivid, his remem ■ances of the details and by a study the room, the bed and his physical indltion to attempt to arrive at the issible causes of hl3 dreams. He was getting on famously. One ght he had a particularly vivid earn. In accordance with his prac e, he forced himself to awake and imediately write down clearly every Ing about it, then went back to sleep ;ain. The next morning he arose id was astounded to see that his note leet was blank. He remembered pos ively the notes he had set down lereon in the middle of the preceding ght. The next night again he wrote iwn his notes after his dreams, only have the same uncanny sensation le next morning at finding nothing corded. The strange circumstances set him to mderlng. That night he impressed Jon his mind before dropping off into umber that he must awaken with his •st dream, or, if not with that, with s second dream. Subsequently this rong antesleeping command deliver- 1 to himself was present all through s dream consciousness. When the :st scenes of a vivid dream came be >re his fancy he felt himself awaken, id he set about writing down the lets upon the pad at his table. It was then that from some source ■ inner consciousness he felt the com and again to awake, although he iemed at the time to be in full posses on of his normal faculties. His eyes >ened, and the secret was out. He mnd himself lying in bed, where he ^d been all that night. His rising Pter each dream had become so much routine that he had dreamed that e had arisen and had made the notes. Lid his "dream was so clear that it cmed reality.— Outing Magazine. Pat’s Deficiencies. Mrs, McCarthy’s husband went out n a boat alone. The boat overturned, 'id he was drowned. A friend met Pr some weeks later. 1 hear, ’ said he, “that Pat left you PD well off—that he left you $20, J’rue,” said Mrs. McCarthy; “he How was that?” asked her friend. could not read or write, could sai( l Mrs. McCarthy, “nor *lm. —New York Press. G °° d Re **°" Why. Th e n- 0tnan Hater i_. , —Can you ex- 18 that a woman hardly v llUlks a ... pJn i 1118,1 for giving her his " Street cnr? The NIan Hater ' s ' r ' It’s because she hardly v sets the chance.—Brooklyn Life.* nt Almost Got It. .. ne # ^. re finy Words difference ‘nautical’ in the mean ine’>’ •> aslj , and ‘roa »v ed Mr. Maluprop. . ‘One' IsT L2SSS- V' repliod Mrs *■“ - Malaprop. °" ,,,r SVA" 1 ’.' 18 neT ' r gained by “*«« ‘ K A WHISTLER WHIM. The Artist Wouldn’t Argue About Kis Birthrlace or Age. James McNeill Whistler had no pa¬ tience with those people who would In¬ sist upon inquiring into two details of his biography in which he professed, and professed with some sincerity, that he was not interested. These de¬ tails were his age and Ills place of birth. It was once mentioned in a Parisian paper that Whistler was born in Balti¬ more. Although this was contrary to fact, Whistler could not he induced to correct it. The mistake was copied over and over again, and angry patri¬ ots from Massachusetts, accidentally the birthplace of this citizen of the world, would write impassioned let¬ ters to him asking him to deny the libel. All he could be prevailed upon to say was, “If it pleases any one to have me born in Baltimore, let me be born in Baltimore.” An individual hailing from Lowell, Mass., once apos¬ trophized him in the generally Insult¬ ing manner which certain people re¬ gard as etiquette in addressing a man of genius upon a first introduction. “Mr. Whistler,” said the stranger, “like me, you were born in Lowell, Mass., and you are sixty-eight years of age and I am sixty-seven. I re¬ member”— The painter interrupted wearily and plaintively: “My dear sir, if you like to be born in Lowell, Mass., and you enjoy being sixty-seven years of age, well and good, but I don’t want to be sixty-eight years of age and don’t re¬ member being born in Lowell, Mass." —New York Telegraph. ON AN OCEAN LINER. It Doesn’t Pay to Get Haughty With the Stewards. “Never, oh, never, speak harsh words of rebuke to a steward on an ocean liner,” declared a congressman of New York. “One summer I journeyed over to the other side. The first day out, at mealtime, I found that, I had to em¬ brace the table leg to get near enough to operate with my knife and fork. For my unpleasant seat I called the steward to account. Most harsh was my criticism. Then I told him I would have my meals served thereafter in the upper cabin. “The next morning the cabin stew¬ ard told me of a better room and that I should get It immediately. It was more costly and elaborately furnished than the one I occupied with my trav¬ eling companion. Then, too, it was on the main deck. I looked over the new room and decided to change. 1 had my luggage, with that of my friend, moved below. When my friend found the new quarters he gasped with horror. ‘Man alive'.’ he said, ‘this is the worst hole on the ship. You and I are in for a great big seasick.’ We got every Jar of the ship and good and seasick too. “The day I landed the dining room steward met me on the deck. ‘Much obliged for changing,’ he said. ‘It was at my request that the cabin steward got you to move. The gentleman ahead of you in that cabin and who wanted to move gave me $75 to fix the deal. I thank you for what is a most glorious tip.”—Washington Post. Keepsakes. Washington Irving, who wrote the following lines on the value of trifles, evidently believed in them as em¬ blems of friendship: “There Is something, after all, in those trifles that friends bestow upon each other which is an unfailing indi¬ cation of the place the giver holds in the affections. I would believe that one who preserved a lock of hair, a simple flower or any trifle of my be¬ stowing loved me, though no show was made of it, while all the protesta¬ tions In the world would not win my confidence In one who set no value on such little things. Trifles they may be, but it is by such that character and disposition are oftenest revealed.” Just For a Change. “What I want.” said the theatrical manager, “is a genuine novelty." “Something realistic?” asked the playwright. real “Yes but I don’t want any The playwright looked wearily thoughtful and, after a pause, in¬ quired: “How would it do spring some¬ thing on the public with real actors in it?”—London Tit-Bits. In Training. “Are you going to mingle in the life of the capital?” asked the old time friend. “I don’t know yet,” answered Mr. Cumrox. “It depends on whether mother and the girls can teach me to eat ice cream with a fork without dropping any on my Sunday shirt bosom.”—Washington Star. Not Out of Danger. Wiggles—I hear Bjenks has been very ill. Is he out of danger yet? Waggles—Well, he’s convalescent, but he won’t be out of danger until that pretty nurse who has been taking care of him has gone away.— Life. Left Handed Compliment. “Your glasses.” she said, “have made a great difference in your appear ance.” “Do you think so?” he asked. “Yes. You look so Intelligent with them on.”—Chicago Record Herald. It is as easy to draw back a stone thrown with force from the hand as to recall a word once spoken.— Menan¬ der. THE COVINGTON NEWS LATHAM’S HOME RUN. And How It Figured In Having Him Dubbed “the Dude.” Charley Comiskey told the story of how Arlie Latham came to be called “the dude.” “One spring during Latham’s term of service with the good old St. Louis Browns,” said Comiskey, “he jumped into the opening game of the season and won us a victory by knocking out a home run in the last inning. Chris von der Abe from his place in the grand stand saw Arlie make his sensa¬ tional hit and naturally enthused. Aft¬ er the game ‘der boss president’ enter ed the clubhouse and in that peculiar dialect of his said to Latham: “ ‘Arlie, my poy, you must be glad that I. Chris, vas proud mit you, an’ I vill show you vat my feelings is by giving you the present of somedings for you to wear on yourself. Take dis order on mine own tailor an’ go an’ dress up yourself.’ “Chris’ order on the tailor read some¬ thing like this: “ ‘Give to Arlie der t’ings vat he buys, an’ send to me der bill.’ “Latham didn’t do a thing on the strength of that order but replenish his wardrobe. For three days in suc¬ cession he showed up at the ball park in a flue makeup, and every suit of clothes was brand new. On the fourth day Chris got a bill from the clothing people for $100. Naturally he sent for Latham and demanded an explanation. ‘“Why, Chris, old pal,’ said ‘Lath.’ ‘there’s nothing to explain. Didn’t you agree in that order you gave me to pay for what I bought, and haven't I just begun to buy? Why, old pal. I have only got three suits and expect to be measured for another this after¬ noon. What’s wrong?’ “ ‘Arlie,’ replied Von der Ahe, ‘you vas de one infernal dude in de pizness. I vill dis bill pay. but you vill yourself go to der tailor an' mit him explain vot I dink of der impudence of you your¬ self. You vill also stop mit de clothes you now have on an’ do no more mit such foolishness mit der man vot pays your salary. Arlie, you vas on£ dude, an’ if you play mit any errors dis afternoon I vill myself fine you all der bootiful clothes you have yourself bought.’ “From that day Latham became known to the baseball world as ‘the dude.’ ” A Curious Structure. On the road from Clifton downs to Avonmouth the traveler will pass, in the Avon gorge, a curious structure to which a singular tradition is attached, relates the London Tatler. The story Is that a person named Cook about a century ago was told by a gypsy in the Leigh woods that his only son would be killed by a serpent before he reach¬ ed the age of twenty-one. To avert this he built a high tower and shut his son in the topmost room with the in¬ tention of secluding him there until the fatal age was passed. However, by ac¬ cident a viper was taken up in a fagot to the room to light the tire, and it crept from the fagot and bit the boy so that he died. Therefore the tower was called Cook’s Folly, and that is its name to this day, whatever is the true explanation. An Ignoble Use. Washington Irving in "Crayon Pa¬ pers” says: "I was once at an evening entertainment given by the Duke of Wellington at Apsley House to Wil¬ liam IV. The duke had manifested his admiration of his great adversary, Napoleon, by having portraits of him in different parts of the house. At the bottom of the grand staircase stood the colossal statue of the emperor by Canova. It was of marble in the an¬ tique style, with one arm partly ex¬ tended, holding a figure of Victory. Over this arm the ladies In tripping upstairs to the ball had thrown their shawls. It was a singular office for the statue of Napoleon to perform in the mansion of the Duke of Welling¬ ton! Imperial Caesar, dead and turned to clay, etc Marriage is a good thing for single men,'' said the bridegroom elect. “Hum! Yes,” remarked Mr. Hen peck, “for single men onlv ” — New Genuine Peruvian Guano Untouched by the Chemist or the cManufacturer | 3 =3 For TOBACCO 3 3 3 =3 COTTON, TRUCK 3 Peruvian CHARLESTON, Guano C S. orporation C mmmi nillHlllllHlllllllllll lltlllu “ ullllllutalt iiil|litiiLiUiUUUtUtiitUUtUiUtUiUiUUttUUiUitUiU1UUitUtUiUiUUtitiUUUiUUi NOTICE. I am now back in my old office ove Cohen’s. Have two rooms, one for white, the other for colored patients, and am fully prepared and capable of doing better work than ever before. Your patronage solicited. Very respectfully, W. J, Higgins, Dentist. EGGS . . . From Prize Winning Barred and White Plymouth Rocks at $2.00 per setting. White Leghorns at $ 1.00 per setting and Spangled Games at $4 ders per setting. Put in your or¬ now for spring delivery. MODEL POULTRY FARM Conyers, Ga. PROFITS CUT ALL TO PIECES ON A N 0 S Ten or Fifteen Different Makes. $10 Profit on Factory Prices. See This Line Before You Make Your Purchase. It Means Money To you. C. A. HARWELL. Leader In Furniture and Undertaking Covington, Ga. LOOK AT THIS We are going to sell for a few days, Heinz Preserves in 3 lbs jars, regular $1.00 size at 70cts. California Dessert Peaches in 2 lbs cans the best to had 20c per can Pie Peaches 2 lbs cans at 10c per can. Fresh meats of all kinds in all seasons. Call 220 for everything to eat, and prompt delivery. Cook Bros ■ y Covington, Phone 220 Ga.