Newspaper Page Text
the mercury.
published every Tuesday
notice.
aI1 communication* Intended for thli
er must bo accompanied with the foil
lime of tb* writer, not necewarily for publl-
alien, but as * guarantee of good fallh.
We R re In no way reeponalble for tb* views
or oplDlons of correspondent*.
c. C BBOWN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
■andertrlll*, Qa.
will D rsctfo*ln the Btoto and United SUMS
OOTrta Office In Oourt-houas
Watches, Clocks
And JEWELRY
airAinBD »T
JERXTICAIT.
H, N* SOLLIFIELD.
Physician and Surgeon,
tenderer!!!#, Oe,
. office aest door to Mm Bayne* »Ulla#Ty
I note on llarri* etroet.
~q7# &• &dlfAKER,
DENTIST,
Sanderavllle, Qa
I rsn\ts cash.
ofllc■» «t ids Residence, on Harris street
I Aorll M. 1*80.
~~B. D. EVANS,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
BsndersTllle, Qa .
I April 1.1UD.
Dr. H. B. Hollifield,
llsvln* rscsnlly graduated at the Unlver
' i)l> i ml ‘ —■ — - *
fcltr ol M
(hirer* tils proie.slOhal ecrvlce* to
and returned home, now
the citizens
l,i Hamlciavllle and vicinity. Office with
N H nil Iflel'i, next doortojMrs. Bayne’s
Billlusry store.
1 i U V r YOUR
l?Pfl
Jit
FROM
J E R N IC A FJ,
Rons genuine without our Trad* Mark.
On hand and for tale,
IPWTA' I.tN NOSE Of,ASSES. ETC.
O. H. Roaxa*
HINES & ROGERS,
attorneys at Law,
BANDERSVILLE, OA„
fill prsctlce In tb# oountlee of Washington,
Itffsrnon, Johnson, Emanuel and Wllkliie'ra,
Vxi Id il,e U. H. Courts for the Southern Dle-
Irlttof Oeoigla.
"'ll set hs agent* In buying, eelling or
ng Hen 1 Kutal*
lee „u West eld* of Pnbllo tquare.
l-U
xrsia music
—ao to—
ERNIOAN
Bows. Strings,
osin Boxes, Etc-
lachine Needles,
Oil and Shuttles,
F°* A, -L RINDS Or MACHINF8, foreale.
| 1 »'d »l«» order parte of M clilne*
tost get broken, for which new
pltcee are wanted.
J. JEHNIGAN.
THE MERCURY.
A. J JERNIGAN, Proprietor.
Volume IV.
DEVOTED TO LITERATURE, AGRICULTURE AND GENERAL INTELLIGENCE.
SANDERSVILLE, GA., TUESDAY, AUGUST 7, 1883. .
11.60 PER ANNUM.
Number 18.
EVERY-DAY HEROES.
Oh yes; they aro all around us,
And In every wnllt of life,
Heroes tho best, that stand the test
In many an unmarked strife;
Heroes of home, of shop, of farm,
And at duty’s call alone,
Though unnwaro of honor’s share,
Anil by noisy fame tiublown.
From a flame-girt lofty window
Wild fares ami IniiHls entreat
Vast crowds, agape, that no moans tan shape,
For aid from tho Icy street:
When a bootblack climbs an adjacent pole,
Aud (fwllt from lla peak Impels
A rope of wire down the wall ol llro,
And tho try, They aro saved 1 upswells.
High waving his tlnnger signal,
The underpaid switchman speeds
O’er the quivering rolgo of a broken bridge,
That lodenth and destruction leads,
To sink, as tho thundering train slows up,
O'er taxed ill the bcndhght'a g are,
Whilo but few can know what to him they
owe,
Though he abouti be dying there.
Oh, yes; they are nil around us,
And to liistaueo their deeds were vain,
Ho hidden away In tho crowds ,.ro they,
In tho paths obscure and plain;
From tliuso whose chivalry, uiicsleomed,
Through a lowiy lifetime shines,
To such In tho i oule whose acts stand out
For the rest like starry signs.
And nothing I- lost, though hidden,
Tout spring" from horolc seed;
In the larger mice and the higher comse
Tin,t are sliapwl liom a single deed,
The environment ol u inassoi men
May brighten uml spieod apace,
Tl'l tho deeds shall throng all paths nlong
To the glory of ml the race.
— New York*I.cdger.
HOW IT ENDED.
Things, Things, Things.
I.Uie coldest thing in the world—Tht
IjMien oil cloth to your bare feet i; a win*
firs night.
Hie hottest thing—A raisin lying in as
(•usi in a mouthful of hot plum pudding.
1 he dullest thing;—A funny newspaper.
The longest thing—Your friend’s favorite
Itory,
^he shortest thing—The memory of the
ptfpetual borrower.
The b ggest thing—The fortune yon ex*
,0 m, the by stock speculation.
trust* l0U '^ 10s *‘ 'king—The young wife's pie
I The softest thing—The conversation car-
011 between a c'uok and deary.
Ul ehi * e «t thing—The muroury in the
F r °*neter, about this time.
Jhe harJeat jjjjpg—The bit of bone you
I m# down on/' when eat'ng chops.
The easiest thing-
Tb
.’jying.
16 ’'^htest thing—The marr
Ithe i 8a ^' U8e< ^ ' 3e > but now it !b
“loosest.
The |
■everv 'king—You know him j he ia
l. ''ere. However, he will get salted in
"Oh, Maude I" exclaimed a young girl, in
evident surpriso and tleligh,, "look, there
goes a boat I"
‘ Steamer or yncht?'
"Neither; tho cutest little row boat—just
the color ot ours, aud <t's adrift, I verily be
hove. There—it has swung around, and 1
can see the name—Oh, it's our boat, the
"Sylph!' Oh, dear I Wbut shall we do
now ?"
"Don't try to scare mo that way, Lizzie;
I’m far too comtortablo to move."
"it’s a fact, Muutta F.clding, and how we
ore to get home is more than I can tell."
At these earnest words from the young
lady standing on the snndy beach, Miss
Fielding arose from the rug on which sin-
bad been lazily reclining, aud droppiug her
boob, joined her companion at the water's
edge. Sure enough, she was correct. There
went the boat, slow y fleatiug along with the
ebbing tide, gradually increasing tbo dis
tance between it and the si ore, as it rocked
gently with the incoming swells of tho oid
ocean,
Miss Stanton's fee i wore a look of the
blankest amazement, ut sight of wbicb
Maude ccuid not forbear stuiliug.
"Don't look so forlorn, Lizzie. It will be
quite an adventure for us. What a wonder'
lul story we'll have to tell when wa iet back
o thu hotel I ’ she exclaimed, seemingly
f'eased at the idea of soin, thing, novel,
"Yes—when we get hack,” responded Liz
zie, lugubriously.
"Come," Baid Maude,drawing her friend s
arm through her own, "let us go back to our
rug and talk the situation over."
Maude Fieldi g und Lizzie Stanton ha
been last Iriendj It r a tong time. Their m
timaey bud iealiy begun when Miss Sharpe
hud made them room mutes at Beverly
Seminary, four years before. This summer
they had agreed upon a trip to Burnham
Beach, which, after four week's time, with
Maude's uunt ns chaperone, they hud decid
ed was simply deligbtlul.
On this particular morninjf they had taken
it into their heads to go out to Pourl I-land
amt pass (he time in reading and talking
until luncheon. To this end they hired a
boat, and, both being able to handle an our
Tike veritable midshipmen, they rowed oil,
much to the uneasiness of Aunt Jane, who
was almost afraid to let the girls go out of
her Bight.
Lizzie alwrtys insisted that it was Maude
who did it, and Maud* was equally positiv.
she left the boat first, and that it was Lizzie
who left it so insecurely tied that the waves
finally b ,re it away in triumph. No matter,
the boat was gone, and there they were
piisoners on the little island a inilo and a
naif from shore.
“Robinson Crusoes, L : zzie," said Maude,
as they seated themselves on the rug for
consultation.
L zzie smiled atthecomparisui as she re
plied,—
"Only worse, if anything; he had lots to
eat. I know we were to have lobster salad
for luncheon."
"Little gourmand ! You'll have to be my
man Frida", and discover seraething edi
ble.”
"But this iB Thursday.”
"So it is. Never mind, dear, 1 have at
admirable plan."
"Unfold it.”
I’ll unfold my red shawl, and you will
see the plan.”
"Is it in the shawl?”
"Don't bo a goose 1 We will tie this
wrapt to something, so it will serve as a Bi -
n»l of distress. Some brave mariner will
behold it from the shore. croBS the raging
main, and lo I we are sayed.'
"Capital 1" cried Lizzie. "Let’s do it at
once,"
With no little difficulty they fastened the
cardinal wrap to a slender, dead limb of a
tree, which they finally succeeded in prop
ping up against the rocks. Seeing they
could do no more, and realizing that it was
Only a question of time. Both were soon
deeply interested in their respective books
and read away as unconcernedly bb if they
wore on the hotel piazza, instead of being
separated from it by an expanse of blue,
gleaming water, with no friendly boat at
hand to do them service.
When Edwin Thon oleft the wharf, that
forenoon, he did not dream of I aving two
young ladies to row back, or he nvght have
chosen a larger boat. Never helcss, it was
wiih a shone arm he pulled at the oar, send
ing the "Wasp’ along at a lively iaip, as hp
finished the ourlh mile of his constitutional.
A splendid specimen of manhood was he ns
he sat there, propel line the boat wiih long
steady sweeps. as regular as clock-work.
Thorne was one of tha leading men in the
Harvard crew twoyenrB before, and ot the
time of the earlv summer regatta, wou the
6rst prize in his Single racing shell.
Straight cut to sen he rowed for a long
siretih then turned a’lout and made for the
leeward side of Pear llsland. As he round
ed the point and mad*; for home, ho chanced
to raise his eyes in timo to cat h a view ol
tho red shawl, fluttering gayly in' tho sea
brerza.
"Hello I" he said to himself as he stopped
rowing. "I would like to know what that
menus ?’’
Turning tl-e boat around, he mode for the
little cove and lauded almost before tho la
dies were aware of his prcseuce.
“Good im ruing, ladies," he said, raising
his hat and advancing. "I hapo I am not
intruding, hut I thought you might b>‘ ship
mates in di-ires-;'aud his pleasant smile
revealed his whilo, even teeth, while hia
brown mustache Banned to curl at the ends
ir great good humor,
"We arc in rather an uncomfortable posi
tion," replied Muude, a lovely wave of color
tinting her pure complexion us she arose,
"You tee, our boa' went adrift, and wo hud
to make an appeal for assistance,"
"How ungallant in the coal!"
Maude smiled.
"If I can be of any assistance, I shall be
only too glad,” said Thorne.
"We shall impose upon you to tho extent
of transportation to “terra cotta," as Mrs.
Partington would aay, and be very thankful
indeed for iho timely succor."
"I shall be most happy,” murmured the
gentleman, boning.
Gathering up tho rug', books aud papers,
they started for the boat.
"You had better get in first and take the
tiller ropes, Miss—"
"Fielding," prompted Maude, feeling a
little embarrassed 11 the unceremonious in
troduction; "and this is my friend Miss
Stanton," she continued, presenting Miss
Lizzie
"I um Edwin Thoroo," said the gentleman
“I regret having no cards with me;" and he
gave an amused glance at his boating suit
It was certainly a very pleasant row to
the shore; and, notwithstanding the iufor
mal way in which ihey had mei, all felt well
acquaint'd when the bout touched the pier.
This was but tho beginning of a pleasant
irieridship that made the long summer
ays pass swiftly away. Aunt Jane de-
mum d somewhat at first, on learniug how
mutters stood, but Gually consented lo lei
ihe young man call, in order to thank him
•or his service lo her charges She was bo
lav irably impressed, however, that when in-
aro-e to go she invited him to cnll again,
without a thought of her previously formed
contra ideas.
As ihe days passed by, Thorne became
quite a friquent visitor and the trio went
io a numler of the balls and musieales so
prevalent at I he seaside
It was about the middle of August that
Thorne one day sent a messenger with o
ote lo Maude announcing his tmemiou to
call that evening relative to a prospective
sai 1 , if she would bo ut home. To this he
was somewhat surprised to receive the fol
lowing reply :—
"Mu, Thorne—It will not be convenient
to have you cull this evening.
Maude Fielding."
A puzzled expression came over his face
on r>ading the message.
"Humph 1 Short and to the point. And
not a sign of a postscript I I wonder what
s up?” he said to himself. “Safe enough
to say something's gone wrong. I'll toon
see, anyhow; aud he hurriedly dispatched
this:—
Miss Fielding;— I must confess that 1
am surprised ut the contents nl your note
just received If it means that I would not
be welcome, I am the last person in the
world to intrude upon any one. I shall
not call until I hear from you."
"Edwin Thorne."
"There I" said he as he threw down his
pen. “That will tell the tale.”
The next day came, but with it no word
from Miss Fielding. The day following was
as barren of any result, and neither could
he see either of the young ladies. Thus
matters ran along for a week, which con~
vinced Thorne something was amiss.
“I’m bound to have an explanation at
all events," he muttered, as be walked
slowly up and down the beach the evening
of the sixth day. "I’m entitled to an un
derstanding, and there may bo something
wrong that I can right.”
vfust then his eye caught the flutter of
white dress a little way ahead of him, and
by quickening his pace he came up lo the
two young ladies, who were out for an even
ing stroll by the wove washed shore,
Maude looked lovelier than ever, with
taint tinge of color in her beautiful face,
while her dark eyes were half averted at the
souud of Thorne’s well known salutation
useless to worry, tb'ey calmly settled them
selves down to read, knowing that their re- Both ladies quietly replied, and the trio
leeie from their involuntary insolation was wa ked on in silence for a moment or two,
'It's a nice evening.'’ vouchsafed Maude,
bound to make a talk.
"Yes, for those who admire the beauties
of nnture," slowly rep’ied Thorne, ancon-
sciously punching little hobs in the sand
with his stick.
Another awkward pause.
"May I venture to ask what is the mat
ter?" he broke out abruptly.
"Matter? I know of nothing unusual,’
responded Maude.
Thorne's lip curled contemp!uou«ly
“You dissemble very we I, Miss Fielding,"
he laid, "but when the truth is so very pat
ent, it is hardly worth your while. To come
to the point, why have you been playing
Iasi and loose with me ?"
Hardly knowing what repljx to make to
is sharp interrogation, Maudo romaiutd
silent.
"Do you think you bav) acted exactly
ght?” ho continued. "Do yon not think I
am deserving of some little explanation ?'
"Mr. Tnorne," began Maude, slowly,
since you force me to speak plainly, I
must say that this acquaintance bad better
end right here. Pardon my hluntness, but
we know nothing of you, and have conclu
ded that it is not right to continue as we
have begun.'
"Very well ’ said Edwiu, coldly, "since
you wish it. Allow me to ray, though that
you may some day find out your mierake.
You must admit that t 1 is sudden breaking
off with me is hardly ju-t or ladylike."
"It may be that it wao not quite right to
leave you unconscious of the truth."
"I tai cy that I catcha glimpse of a powet
behind the throne who aided in this es-
rangement," Thorne stiid, as he glanced
meaningly at Miss Stanton.
This, howover, she denied with seeming
ndignaticn.
They had turned in their walk and were
now nearing tho hotel when Thorne stop
ped,
"I shall not bore you with my prcseuce
any further, ladies,’ he said with chilly
politeness. "We meet as strangers here-
alter."
“Is there anything now you don't under
stand, Mr. Thorne ?'' iuquired Maude, half
timidly, ns if suddeuly conscious of their
over prudishncsi.
"Yes, there is,” he replied slowly, as if he
would tell her Then, checking himself on
reconsideration, he lifted his hat, and with
formal "good evening," turned and walk
ed away by the rocky path that led to the
left of the little bay.
The lndiej made their wAy to the hotel,
while he paced up and down the beach for
lull half hour, meditating over the oventa
of the past few weeks. By dint of a little
common sense logic, he reasoned out the
whole thing.
First, be was more than half in love
with churming Miss Fielding, and the fact
was probably patent to her friend if not to
tbt- young lady in question. Second, he
had of course paid her many more atten
tions than he had paid Lizzie, which had
prejudiced the latter agaiiiBt him.
Miss. Stanton wa9 just a trifle passe in
comparison with the beautiful Maude, und
uono anew it better than she. Therefore,
hrough her spite ul interference and petty
jealousy, bhe bad worked upon Maude's
tecliu^s until she had persuaded her that
ihey were not doing right to receive any
attentions from this younz man until he
had had a regular introduction. Purely
selfish moliout were at the bottom ot his
dismissal.
The next day these three interested par-
tii s met on the beach. Thorne was stroll-
ug with a iriend, and gave the ladies as
cool a glance as he would have given the
plainest fishwoman in all New England.
Owing to the somewl a> unsettled charac
ter of his leelmgs, and thinking to soon
lorgel it all in the cares of his business life,
he packed his trunk the last of the week
and left for New York.
It was the night of Mrs. Brownlie’s par
ty, just the week before Christmas. Ugb
now the wiud blew! It came rushing around
the corner with almost enough force to lifi
one off one's feet, while tho sharp air wag
filled with flying snowflakes. The gas flick
ered und eplutiered in a broken street lamp
aud the wind whistled dolefully though the
trees in tt.e park. A solitary newsboy dan
ced a double shuffle rn the flagstone, vainly
trying to infuse some warmth into bis
benumbed toes, as he watched the carriages
roll up one after another in front of the
elegant residence so brilliantly lighted on the
occasion of this the most fashionable event
of the season.
By icn o'clock the parlors began to All
up, and an hour latter, when the orchestra
took its place in the ball-room, the whole
house presented a scene of enjoymen'
rare-ly equalled in the social circles of aris
tocratic New York.
Mrs Brownlie, a regal woman ot eight
and twenty, was passing from one room to
another, welcoming guests and introducing
strangers with that rare tact born only ol
natural culture. She had a kind word aud
a smile of welcome for every one, and it
wub no wonder "the boys,” friends of
Brownlie’s, said he was to be invied.
In addition to the pleasures of the ball
room, there was to be rendered, in a large
room at the top of the house perfectly fitted
up for private theatricals, a choice pro
gramme of decided merit. This was to
consist of vocal -and instrumental selec
tions by some of th“ tofonted guests, a reei
tation or two by > ftftiular actor, and a
series of tableaux unde the dilution of tbe
iudefatigab'e Prof. Peudarbis, ably assisted
by the hostess, who was no novice in such
natters.
the glowing grate—Chat les Fores*, the
host. Clinton Brownlie, a prominent figure
in Wnl! Stroet, and our friend Edwin
Thorne, Brownlie's junior partner.
" 1 tell you, Forest, New York Cenlral is
a great purchase,” asserted Brownlie ; “it’s
hound to go higher inside the next ten
days. Why, I am just as sure of it as I am
that—"
"Mrs. Brownlie wishes to see you, sir,"
raid a colored servant, as he stepped up to
the trio, interrupting the prediction con
cerning the stock market.
"Excuso m'o a moment, gentlemen," and
tho host left the room. Returnrng a f> w
minutes later he said to Throne, " Edwin,
Mrs. Biownlie wi-hes to speak to you. Not
knowiug whether jou had arrived yet, she
sent for me. You will find her in the
library "
' Very well," re«ponded Throne. " I
will go at once.
He found the lady standirg by one of the
largo plate glass wind iwe, watching the
fast descending snowflakes. A shade ot
annojance rested on her handsome foutures
which quiukly gav° place to a smile of wel
come on Thorne's appe-trsnee
" Ah, t thought you would hardly desert
me, Mr Thorne," she .laid, advancing to
meet him with outstrnched hands.
" 1 could not forego the plea-ure of ' bis
party," he responded, as they >eated them-
se'ves. " But Mr Brownlie said you wished
to seo mo particularly."
" Yes, I want you to help me. The fact
is, Mr. Russell who was so take part in one
of my tableaux, has just apprised me of bis
utiav' idanle absence, and as it is one of my
finest effects, I must beg you to take his
place, •
“ Certainly; anything to oblige you—
that is. if I can do it without rehearaing.
What is it to be?"
‘‘Oh, nothing very difficult, It is* the
Confession/ ami only requires two charac
ters. I want you to' take the part of the
monk, while a young lady friend of mino
has cons-ntcd to be the fair girl of the con
vent. She is churmiug, and I know you
will fall in love with her."
Not I, Mrs. Brownlie," responded
Throne with a smile. Tbon, with a little
bit er laugh, the remembrance of his last
cummers romance came to him like a
shape of the sea-mist.
" But come," said his hostess, " I will
take you to the green-room, and introduce
you to the young lady, and you can re
hearse the scene a time or two before the
curtain rises."
Thereupon they made their way to the
little theatre, where had already begiu to
assemble the gueBts, and, behind the scenes,
tbe ladies a id geutlemt n woo were to take
part in the eutertaiument. Leading Mr.
Thorne through agsyly chattering bevy ot
young people, Mrs. Brownlie paused before
ao easy chan; in which was seated a young
lady who, Edwin thought, looked familiar as
they approached. With a start he saw that
»he was no other than Miss Fieldiug, look
ing more bewitchingly lovely ihan ever id
her soft white robe tor her character.
" Maude, my dear ea d Mrs. Brownlie,
1 let me present tuy friend, Mr. Tnrone.
vtiss Fielding is to be very penitent, Mr.
Tnrone, and confess everything this even
ing." And with u kindly tmi e sbe glide
away, after advising un immediate rebeur
sal.
Here was indeed an interesting situation I
Maud colored painfully as the acknowledged
he introduction, wmle Thorne, self-pns-
l-ssed as he usually w-s, almost f rgot him
self tor a moment It was only for an in
stant, and he greeted her as coolly aud tor
tnully as if he had never seen her before in
bis fife.
" As I am undrilled in this, Miss Field
ing." be skid, " 1 suppose wa had batter go
hrough it once. If you will excuse me, I
wll don my custume, and then we will see
how we shall succeed."
" Certainly," murmured Maude, scarcely
looking up.
When he had gone the hot tears welled
up her eyes as she realized the depth of her
eyes as she realized the nepth of ber affec
tiou for him when she ba d thought him eo
tirely forgot en. Nothing i% so perverse a-
a woman's mind, and especially when act
ing with the heart in these little love affairs
io which all are subject at some period or
other.
And what of Thorne ? It was with con
flicting thoughts that he prepared for the
coming scene. Wtiile he had not beeu
broken hearted on his return from Burnham
Beach f ur months previous, his feelings
toward Miss Fielding were a little stronger
than friendship. Although he hud dismi-s
ed her from his mind long ago—for young
men are seldom given to wearing the wil
low—he found that the sight of her but re
vived old memories.
“I told her we should meet us strangers,"
he muttered, as he adjusted his wig," and
so we shall, I will make no advance, at
anv rate."
Rejoining Miss Fielding’ they talked
over their coming tableau, attitudinizing
a little, and making a few alterations as
calmly as if noibing bad ever transpired
between them. All this was a trial to Maude,
for, blindly ignoring the manner in which
Down in the billard room a few convivial
spirits were whiling away the time very
agreeably with cigars and tbe ivory spheres.
There were three gentlemen standiug near
she had dismissed him last summer, and
with the inconsistency of her sex, she
thought he must surely see the regard she
had for him.
The programme was a grand success, and
after many ao encore, the tableau of "the
Confession," tbe very last effect, was
reaebed.
Thorne and Miss Fielding took their
places on the stage ; the calcium light was
turned on, and up went the curtain. Many
were whispered praises of the beautiful
picture, as Maude, with tearful, uplifted
eyes and clapped hands knelt, at the feet of
the stem monk, who. with rigid and a'most
colorless features, g-eed ot the graceful
form before him Ho could scarce resist
takiag her in his arms theR and there, as
the current of love swept over him, but
with a firm hand he assisted her to rise as
the curtain descended. They at once left
the stage, and as they reached tho green
room Maude paused, lying a hand on
Thurne's arm. With crimson cheeks and
downcast eyes, she began in a faltering
voice:—
" Mr. Thorne, you remember that Mr».
B ownliesaid I was to be very good, at d
confess everything this evening?"
" Yes," assented Edwin, w mderingly.
" Then," she continued, timidly raising
her beautiful eyes, radiant as two stars,
" I must confess that I made a sad
mistake last summer at Burnham
Beach."
"Maude, ray darling 1” and this time he
ola-ped ber in hie embrace lor sure, as he
read the storv in her blushing face.
I think no oue but the parties interested
and Mrs Brownlie, ever kuew why what
last tableau was not repeated in response
to the prolonged applause and vocilerous
encore'
" Listen, my dear," said Thorne, as the
orchestra struck up at the final, 11 L sten to
a deraonssraiion of tho eternal fitness ot
tbings?"
Aud the strains they heard were those of
Sullivan’s beautiful sextette:—
" 1 hear tin* solt note of an echoing voic-,
Of an old, old love long dead."
AJMrioa’a Tallest Ian.
Being at the house of Mr. Franklin, in
Titus county, mention was made of the
Texas giant, and I learned that he was
a near neighbor of my host. Mr. F kindly
consented to accorap tny me to his house
After entering I observed windows as well
as doors were as low or lownr than usual
but the loft was quite high being laid cross
wise with tbe fl >or, the ends of tho planks
resting upon the side pi tea of the room
and 'two joist, which rested on the end
pla'es, the house having the gables weath
er boarded The giant sat smoking his
pipe While I ruminated on the mode of
approaching him I took notice that he did
not appear very fall as he sat, yet my
friend, who sat next to him, a man of usual
height, seemed only &y a half-grown boy.
Pencil in hand, I said to him: "Mr. Frank
fin said you would be willing to give me
items of interest in regard to yourself io
which the public will take an interest?"
"Oh, certainly; I tvas born in Sou.h
Carolina, Greenville district, May 5, 18J0.
My fa 1 her removed to Missouri, Morgan
county, in 1833 In 1830 I want to Cal
fornia by the oveHand route. I returned
from California by water—from Char.es to
New Orleans on the Falcon, From New
Orleans I returned to Missouri and was busv
farming mostly till the war broke out
March 8, J853, I married Miss. Mary T.
Thurston, my first cousin. She has borne
me four children, all hoys. Only one is
living. One lived to b« 21. He wa« fi feet
7 inches high. My father was only 6 tee' 2
inches. Mother was a little over average
heigtit. My father was twice married His
15 children were 10 boss and 5 girls. The
boyn were all over 6 f-et. I had one cousin
who was 6 fe t 6 inches."
"Wbat nuuiber is your boot ?" 1 inquired.
"It is a 15; my foot is 13 iuches long and
T wear a No. 15 "
What size is yout hat?"
"It is 7j."
"What ia your height ?"
‘*1 have been measured," ho replied; " 7
feet 7J inches in ordinary boots."
THE MERCURY.
’
Entered an eeeond-el&aa matter at the Baa
U entitle Poetofflce, April S7,
.
Sendtrtvllle, Washington CoMtft •».
rvBLttxn ay
A. J. JERNIGAN,
Paoraiaioa in Publishaa.
Bub*erlptlon_...^.,_,.„. per Year
KERRY KEN ALL.
"I do wish cattle would grow larger,'
sighed the Chicago belle; "my shoes plnek
my feet"—Washington World.
Philanthropic passenger to Irish emi<*
grant, with small oundle—"Where’s your
tr unk, Pat?” "Pi wat 'ul Oi do wid a
thrunk?" "Put your clothes in it.” "Aa'
me go oaked?"—Lile.
"Well,” said an arL'st, "there is one thing
I can say—my painting is original No*
*iody can accuse me of copying.” "Not
eveu nature," remarked one of hit hearers.
—B iston Trans r riot. '
Medical professor to
student—
' in here is tho glottis ?" I don't know, sir.
I think you but tt on the shelf ia the-MiS'
seoing room with the rest of yoar Mutual
instruments."—Medical and Surgcnl'Re-
porter.
“You're getting quite bald, old man; yon
try rum.” Rural So I have I’ve bought
gallons of it." "Ab, 1 ate; bntbeu p'haps
you csuld never get it any higher than your
mouth 1 ’—London Judy.
“Yea," said Fmderson, "I’ve got q fits an
Birfor music." “You have qu to an ear,
sure enough," said Fogg, "but 1 wasn't sura
it was for music. I didn't kno v but it wa«
intended for a windmill."—Boston Tran
script.
"Here I've been talking for half an hour,'
exclaimed an auctioneer, "and I haven't got
an offitr." a "Halt an boor, indeed I" hear-*
muded an elderly maiden. “What'a half
au hour .to many long years, and still no
h -pe ot ao offer ?"—Boston Tranioript.
A leo urer discoursing on the aabjeffi of
"Health" inquired: "What use oau a man
make ol his time while waiting lor a doctor?"
Before he could begin hia answer to kts owa
inquiry some oue in tbe audience cried o
‘Ha can make hi% will,"—Buffalo Cou
Prohibition item. " Wake me up, darling
to-night and give me a toddy" *a|^ an
Austin inebriate to his wife, aa they were
about to retire for tha night. But how will
I know when you want oue ?" " You can’t
make a mistake. 1 am always thirsty
when I am woke np."
Climatic: A Boston lady who ha* an
orange grove in Florida was speak'ng en
thusiastically one day of the olimate there,
"But how is it for invalids?' said a friend:
Should you want to go there for your
health?" "The lady instantly replied to-
‘ Ob, 1 should want to go to heaven fo£ ijmS-'
health.”—Boston Transcript. fo'
"Madam,” he began, as he lifted his hat
at the front door, "1 am soiicati 'g for home
charities. We have hundreds of poor, rag
ged and vicious children like those at your
gate,ami ouroujecisis—” "St! those are
my own chtlurenl” she interrupted, and
tne way tuat trom door slammed uts toes
jarred every hair ou his scalp lock.—
Detroit Free Pree.
Topnoody.
"My love," said Mr. Topnoody to his
wife, Tue-dsy evening, ‘ would you like to
attend the commencement at Music hall
to-night?"
" Does it cost nnything to go ?"
" No, my love."
" I thought so.”
"Why, my dear?"
" Because you would not have invited me
togo if it did "
" Oh, yes, I would, rav dear, for I want
you to go. There is something so youthful
and so joyous in such ga’herings; such a
wealth of young hopes ; such a profus'on of
promise; such a happy association of the
young and the old, bringing memories so
d-ar to us and wafting echoos back to the
times when we were first stepping over the
threshold of our future, filled with goldeb
dreams.”
"That sounds right well, Topnoody, but
I don’t want to go. I am prejudiced agaiust
commencements ol all kinds. I took in one
that 1 bava never recovered from."
"Why, my dear, you surprise me, ]
never beard of it before, What was it?’
" Well, Topnoody, it was the commence
ment ot youratten’ions to me when I was a
girl, I looked over one threshold too many
that time, and got stuck on your golden
dream business; I heard the echoes wafted
hack, and tumb'ed to tbe memories,'
dear, ts it were, but, Topuoody, I ain’t that
way any more, c,nd the only commence
ment I want to hear now, is your com
mencement of conduct toward the wife of
yourbusom, which will give me some en
couragement in the teaching I have wasted
on you. Every time I think of it I—’,
But Topuoody departed hastily, and re
vived dear memoriae by himself.— Mer
chant-Traveler.
"Where do the wicked men go who drink
liquor?' asked a temperance lecturer of a
ao Austin Sunday sonool. " tVutl, some of
them go to tiornuield’a saloon und some go
to the trou Front, out tbe wickedest ones
—ihe It-gisiaiors—always go to the nearest
saioon. It you ask pa, he will show you
where you can get the best beer/ —Texas
S.ftiugs. .
Success lives two doors beyond persevers
ancr; it you gel tired ut tbe struggle of life
cut a pole aud go fisbmg; he wbo is always
uaVe and smiling is about as flat as a salt*
less pudding; jealously and a crack on the
crazy-bone have o teu put aturdsr into the
hsart of mauyj complain not ot raverses:
belter to slip down on the ridewals than to
have tue sidewalk to slip uowa on you,
"Who are those two men ? * asked Dea
con Oilpiti ot Squire McGill the other even-
tug. "Oh, tuose are ihe men who come to
work in Joramm's place. He bas m.ov,ad
to Biugbamptou." "To work in Joramm’s
place? Wby H was the l^zissi tpap in
Mara-hun I" ‘ I know it aud that’s the
reason there's two ot them. It takes both
ot them to be as lu^r as he was he was."—
Marathon Independent.
A diner-out, who has hrd more than his
share of the wine, is cart-lully feeling his
wav home at night, when he unfortunately
stumbles against the circular railing wnich
surrounds a statue. After having gone
round it about seven times the hopelessness
ot his 'itnation flashes npon him w»th vivid*
ne«8 and he sinks down upor. the pavement
outside with a despairing shriek; "The
scoundrels! Tne've shut me in here I"— 1
Paris Paper.
"Boss’ sposon you was ter miss, some
momin’, dat ar pure pinter dog what you
paid $200 tor, how muoh would you gif mo
of I fetched him back to yer house ou Aus
tin avenue 7" asked Sam Johnsing. "1 ex
pect I would give you ten dollars," replied
Colonel Yeger, thoughtfully. “Well, deo,
boss jess baud out dat ten dollars now and
yer won’t miss dat dog ia the fust place
Hit sabe yer a heap of anxiety about de
pup.—Texas Siftings.
Taking it easy: Mr O’Rsffery has a boy
named Mike that for laziness cannot bfl
beaten. This assertion is not absolutely
correct, however, for he is beaten for laei*
ness every day by the old man. After one
of these sad scenes between parent and
child Mike remarked diam-lly. "I persave
that there is no plazin of yez. It is wishisf
I was dead, I um.” "It is loike yerself, raw
tarted the father, "to bo wishin’ ye waa id
an expinsive and vaynient coffin, taken’ if
asy for tha rest of yer life.”—Tease Sift*
»*•-
mm
