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GPAND AND TRAVERSE
JURORS DRAWN FOR
'■ ' :
■
February Term of Court, I9o9.
Following is a list of grand
and traverse jurors who wil
serve during next week’s session
of court.
GRAND JURORS,
Francis M. Kilgore
Marion H. Williams
James G. Loughridge
Reubin H. Tyler
Lemuel D. Leonard
Geo. W. Cox
Willie J. Halcomb
Elijah M. Ellis
Andrew J. Odum
John D. Will banks
Ben. F, Bates
Robert H. Keith
Johu W. Spruill
John W. Harris
John H. Graves
Oscar L. Brown
Thomas A. Keith
John W. Tucker
John N. Petty
Oliver P. Baliew
Thomas M. Davie
David E. Humphreys
Eli G. Gladden
John A. Berry
John W. Quearles
Jasper L. Worley
Marlin J. Halcomb
Joseph E. Love
Calvin N. Stroud
Wm. M. Richards.
TRAVERSE JURORS.
Wm. F. Loughridge
James C. Loughridge
James Maxwell
Robert H. Douglass
Hermon R. Hall
Willie J. G. Gregory
Wm. Pend ley
John W. Clements
Isaac S. Couch
Thomas D. White
Wm. H. Jones Sr.
Wm. R. Dunn
Green L. Headrick
Robert H‘ Shelton
Henry M. Tanxersley
Jno. L. Moreland
Willis H. Pend ley
Jas. K. Burka,
Wm. M. Chitwood
F. D. Cochran
Johu Fortner
Thomas U. Keith
i William D. Gregory
William B. Stance)
Jno. S. Noland
Joseph B. Anderson
Virgil A. Stuart
Daniel D. Butler
Byron F. White
Andy T. Harris
Eli T. Stanford
James A. Ellis Jr.
Napoleon B. Bates
John H. Smith
Andrew J. Etheredge
Junes D. Elrod.
This is just the tune of year
when you are most liaely to have
kidney or bladder trouble, with
rheumatism and rheumatic pains
caused by weak kidneys. De¬
lays are dangerous. Get De
Witt’s Kidney and Bladder Pills,
and be sure you get what you ask
for. They are the best pills
made for backache, weak back,
urinary disorders, inflammation
of tire bladder, etc. They are
antiseptic and act promptly.
We sell and recommend them.
S. H. Kelly.
LOCAL MARKETS.
Quoted at Opening of Business Every
Week.
COTTON.
Cotton 09 7-8
GRAIN.
Wheat $ 1.10
Corn... 75
PEAS.
Whips................ $ 1.00
Clays and unknon 1.00
White or table yeas.... $1.50 -2.00
WOOL.
Washed... tO
Unwashed 05
Black....... .20
PRODUCE.
Eggs................... .20
Hens..................... 30 to .32
Fries..................... 15 to .25
Batter, per pound... 15 to .20
GAME.
Rabbits.......... .......06
ANGER IS DANGEROUS.
it Wreck* the Whole Sy*tem and
Tend* to Shorten Life.
H is well known that a violent fit of
temper affects the heart instautly, aud
paychophyslcists have discovered the
presence of poison In the blood imme¬
diately after such outburst. Tbls ex¬
plains why we feel so depressed, ex¬
hausted and nervous after any storm
of passion—worry, jealousy or revenge
—has swept through the mind. It has
left in Its wake vicious mental poison
and other harmful secretions in the
brain and blood.
There is no constitution so strong
but it will ultimately succumb to the
constant racking and twisting of the
nerve centers caused by an uncon¬
trolled temper. Every time you be¬
come angry you reverse all of the nor¬
mal mental and physical processes.
Everything in you rebels against pas¬
sion storms; every mental faculty pro¬
tests against their abuse.
If people only realized what havoc
indulgence in hot temper plays in
their delicate nervous structure, if
they could only see with the physical
eyes the damage done as they can see
what follows In the wake of a tornado,
they would not dare to get angry.
When the brain cells are overheated
from a fit of temper their efficiency is
seriously impaired, If not absolutely
ruined. The presence of the anger poi¬
son, the shock to the nervous system,
is what makes the victim so exhausted
and demoralized after loss of self con¬
trol.—Orison Swett Marden In Success
Magazine.
THE BACK OF THE NECK.
Make It Proof Againet Drafts and
Colds In the Head.
“When I was a boy,” said a doctor,
“I didn’t believe In drafts. I thought
that they who Imputed colds to drafts
were cranks. But one November
night at a concert I felt all the even¬
ing a strong draft on the back of my
neck. Jt was so strong It resembled a
suc-tiou pump. ‘Now,’ said I to my¬
self, ‘we’ll see if this draft will give
yours truly a cold. i »1
He shuddered.
“For a week,” he said, “I was laid
up with so vile a cold that I couldn’t
breathe save with my mouth open.
And now I aft satisfied that nine out
of every ten colds are solely due to a
draft ou the back of the neck.
“I know how to prevent such colds.
Hence 1 may practically say that 1
know how to prevent all colds. It Is a
fact that none of my patients, thanks
to my method, know what a cold is.
“They learn from me to do this—to
bathe the back of the neck every
morning in cold water. Thus the spot
becomes hardened. It becomes draft
proof.
“And when a new patient, peculiarly
sensitive to colds, visits me, my pecul¬
iar treatment is to blow on the hack
of his neck with a bellows for several
days in succession. The bellows, in
conjunction with the icy douche, frees
him from all future susceptibility.
Thenceforth his winters pass without
that horrid winter pest, a bad cold.”—
New Orleans Tlmes-Democrat.
Colored Preacher 1 * Text.
A colored man in Atlanta, Ga., Is a
preaeher on Sundays and a barber on
week days. One of his customers
makes it a rule to be first in the chair
on Monday morning, when he Is sure
of being entertained by a resume of
“Uncle Rastus’ ” Sunday dissertation.
At night the family always looked for
the latest from the colored brother.
This was one of his recent effusions:
“Yesterday I took for my text ‘Clean¬
liness am next to godliness,’ and I
dun reach my climax wid dis argu¬
ment: ‘Now, what day follows Sun¬
day? Why, Monday. Monday Is
wash day In all well reg’latcd fam¬
ilies. Monday comes nex’ to Sun¬
day; so, my bredden, that settles it
that the words of my tex’ am true,
“Cleanliness aijj nex’ to godliness. tt » B
—Chicago Record-IIerald.
Too Much Quiet.
On one occasion the hustling and
energetic archbishop of York, Dr.
Maelagan, wrote to the vicar In an
outlying village suggesting that he
should lend his church for the purpose
of giving the clergy of the district a
“quiet day” for meditation and frater¬
nal reunion. The witty vicar of this
sleepy hamlet in the wolds promptly
replied:
My Dear Lord Archbishop—Your very
kind letter to hand. But what the people
tn this village want most In their spiritual
Ufe is not a “quiet day,” but an earth¬
quake.
—London Standard.
An Appeal For Mercy.
“Judge," said the prisoner, “I sup¬
pose you’re going to soak me.”
“You are a habitual offender," re¬
plied the judge; “were caught with the
stolen goods, and the court will have
U> do its painful duty.”
“I don’t want to seem unreasonable,”
replied the prisoner. “I don’t mind a
long sentence. I’m used to it But
say, judge, cut out the lecture that
usually goes with it, won’t you.”—
Philadelphia Ledger.
The Brute.
“Yes, this room is dark, damp and
positively uninhabitable. It is sup¬
plied for your wife’s mother, if she has
one.”
"She has. I’ll take the flat.”—Boston
Traveler.
An Old Timer.
“He’s an old newspaper man."
“About how old?’
“Weil, he can remember when they
only Issued extras when something
happened.”—Louisville Courier- Journal
Europe is less than one-fourth as
large as Asia.
THE MURRAY NEWS, R1DAY, FFEBRUARY 12, 1909.
A TURNER MASTERPIECE.
Origin of the Painter'* Famous “Bain,
Steam and Speed."
Of all pictures by the great English
color poet, Turner, none is move popu
lar than that which now graces the
London National gallery under the
name of “Rain, Steam amt Speed.”
which was first exhibited in 1844. It
Is impossible to reproduce tbls ado
quately.
Concerning the origin of this picture
Rusklu furnishes an Interesting tale.
The story was told to him by a friend,
Lady Simon. It seems that she was
traveling one night lu the early days
of the Great Western railway from
Exeter to London. “When I had taken
off my coat and smoothed my ruffled
plumes and generally settled myself,''
she tells, “I looked up to see the most
wonderful eyes I ever saw, steadily,
luminously, elnirvoyantly, kindly, pa
ternally looking at me. The
over the forehead, the mouth and chin
buried in the brown velvet coat collar
of the brown greatcoat. Well, we went
on, and the storm went on more and
more until we reached Bristol, where
we waited ten minutes. My old gen
tleman rubbed the side window with
his coat cuff, in vain. He attacked the
center window, again in vain, so blur
red and blotted was it with the tor
rents of rain. A moment’s hesitation
and then,‘Young lady, would you mind
my putting down this window?
“ -oh, no not at all.’
‘“You may be drenched, you know.’
«‘Never mind, sir.’
“Immediately down went the win
dow and out went the old gentleman’s
head and shoulders, and I said, ‘Oh.
please let me look.’
« ‘Now, you will be drenched.’ he re
monst rated. But he half opened the
window for me to see. Such a night!
Such a chaos of elemental and artificial
lights and noises I never saw nor ! I
heard. He drew up the window as we
moved on. I leaned hack for some
minutes with closed eyes, then opened j
them and said, ‘Well, 1 have been
drenched, but it was well worth it.’
“He nodded and smiled and again
took to his steady but Inoffensive pe
ruslng of my face. The next year, I
think it was going to the academy. I
turned at once, as I always did, to see
what Turners there were. Imagine
my feelings! There stood written
‘Rain, Steam and Speed, Great West¬
ern, .Tune, 1843.’ I had found out
whom the seeing eyes belonged to. As
I stood looking at the picture I heard
a mawkish voice behind me say:
“‘There, now, just look at that!
Ain’t it Just like Turner? Who ever
saw such a ridiculous conglomeration?
I turned very quietly round and said:
‘I did. I was in the train that, night,
and it is perfectly and wonderfully
true.’ After that I walked quietly
away.”—Helen Zlmmerri In Metropol¬
itan Magazine.
Kongo Native* and Their Deed.
“In the matter of preserving bodies
for burial Kongos, after the usual
binding in cloth, keep them for two
or three mouths in their houses, where
a fire is kept suspended burning, hut two in^Zombo forked
they are on
sticks in a dugout vault in the ground,
which Is covered over with palm
branches and earth,” says a liiisslon
ary. “Sometlmes the body is placed
under a specially built grass roof in
the open. This Is not considered a
burial, and some years ago they
brought out fora big funeral feast and
dance the body of an important chief
that had thus been preserved for over
twenty years. In other districts the
dead are thrown away Into a river or
into the hush to be devoured by jack¬
als and vultures.’’
Zoology and Flag*.
Zoology figures very largely on the
flags of different nations. On the
British royal standard is the lion. It
was Richard Coeur de Lion, by the
way, who altered the device from
leopards to lions on the king’s stand¬
ard. The eagle appears on the stand¬
ards of both Russia and Germany
and both the lion and the eagle on that
of Spain. Bulgaria has a Hon, China
a dragon and Mexico a bird quarreling
with a snake. Taken together with
the auimals that appear on nations’
arms, the royal unicorn and Austra¬
lian emu and kangaroo, a fairly com¬
prehensive collect Ion could he made
from national emblems.
Going Too Far.
At a school exhibition a juvenile
elocutionist got up to recite the first
piece of Ills life. He was ambitious.
He wished to make a great success of
his piece, and he had been told by
his teacher that the secret of elocution
was the gesture—for every phrase its
fitting gesture. The opening line of
the hoy’s selection was, “The comet
lifts Its tall of fire.” The overzealous
boy, to fit. its proper gesture to this
line, lifted up the tail of his coat and
held It out in a horizontal position.
Inconsistent.
Brown—It's curious about people’s
beliefs. They will give entire cre¬
dence to the most absurd things and
put no faith whatever in the most ob¬
vious truths. Black-Yes, I’ve noticed
it. There’s Greene, now. He hasn’t
the least confidence in hash, but he'll
eat all the croquettes and mince pie
van- can set before him.— Exchange.
Poor Excu*e.
"Before we were married you said
you'd lay down your life for me,” she
sobbed.
“I know it.” be returned solemnly,
“but this confounded flat is so tiny
there’s no place to lay anything down.”
—Harper’s Bazar.
In essentials unity, in doubtful things
liberty. In all things charity.-Melaneh
ibon.
THE HONEYMOON PARADE.
Wedding Custom In Cr.a Town When
' the Train le bate.
A small flty, which m e ,1 not be Jo
. rated more particularly Ilian that it is
somewhere east of Boston, has Its own
peculiar way of speeding the newly
married on their honeymoon.
For one thing, every one goes to the
station to see the couple depart. This
is done in many small places. The
showering of rice or confetti and the
throwing of the old shoe take place,
n ot ut the home of the bride, but at the
station. To that extent the city re
ferred to Is not unusual.
But in this city train schedules fre
quently go awry, and when they do
the unusual happens. The wedding, of
course, has been celebrated on time,
and the reception has taken as much
time as such things usually take. The
departure from the bride’s home Is
made in due season to catch the train
if it is on time,
The wedding guests rush to the sta
tion, where all other inhabitants ltav
ing nothing better to do have assent
bled already. It is a free show which
no one would miss.
The carriage bearing (ho netvly mar
fled pair Is drawn by white horses and
decorated with white ribbons. Custom
demands Ibis and no one has yet bad
the temerity to do otherwise.
The carriage arrives at the station,
and it is learned that the train is so
many minutes or so many hours late.
Usually the measure is in hours.
The carriage doesn’t wait. It goes
parading. It drives around and around
a prescribed route, from every point of
which the driver can get due notice of
the approach of the train.
The crowd remains patiently at the
station. Other curious persons station
themselves at points along the route
just to see the wedding coach pass,
Sometimes two or three carriages,
drawn by white horses and decorated
in white, swing steadily around this
hymeneal circuit. It seems like an
endless procession, it is *>t unsual
for a wedding pair to spec* the first
five hours of their honeymoon just rid
ing round and round waiting for the
train.
When (he screech of the locomotive
Anally is heard the driver continues to
swing up to the platform just as the
train comes to a stop. Then the bride
and bridegroom make a innd rush for
their car amid a shower of rice and
confetti and old shoes. The honeymoon
parade is over.—Exchange.
THE REAL BOWERY.
Swiftly Passing, It Has Never Been
Wholly Revealed.
The real Bowery has never been
written up, and probably It never will
be, because it is swiftly passing. Hun¬
dreds of attempts have been made by
those who have not even penetrated
the surface of its reserve, Its heart
and soul—for the Bowery has both, as
well as reserve—are a sealed book to
the writers. It Is a Sargasso sea lit¬
tered with derelicts of all worlds, drift¬
ing back and forth with the endless
ebb and flow of the tide, while all
about them is the ceaseless netlvfty of
commerce, of development, moving
onward and upward despite the cease¬
less cross current, which no literary
mariner, cruising in these uncharted
waters, can understand.
Those who know it best and have
some skill in writing ns well as some
understanding nre so overwhelmed by
its endless complications, Its infinity
of contradictions, Its astonishing good¬
ness and its frightful depravity, the
baffling mystery of its wonderful hu¬
manness and its fantastic mystery,
that they do not dare attempt to write
even what they know. Only one man
In all literature could have Interpreted
the Bowery—and Balzac is dead.
Most of us know the Bowery through
fugitive newspaper sketches and fear
some lurid melodramas. The sketches
present certain phases more or less in¬
telligently, but the melodramas are
weird burlesques, unworthy even of
being scoffed at, so far as any consid¬
eration of truth Is concerned, But
these cheap melodramas, endlessly re¬
peated, have built up a fiction that has
come to he accepted as the reality.—
Everybody's Magazine.
Fooling the Dogs.
In a certain part of Scotland, ac¬
cording to Dean Ramsey, the shep¬
herds used to take their collies with
them to church. The dogs behaved
well during the sermon, but began to
be restless during the last psalm and
saluted the final blessing with joyful
barks. In one church the congrega
tion resolved to stop this unseemly
detail, so when a strange minister was
about to pronounce the blessing all re¬
mained seated instead of rising, as he
expected. He hesitated and paused
till an old shepherd cried: “Say awa’,
sir! We’re a’ sittin’ to cheat the
dowgs!”
Breakfasting With Whistler.
The was a foreign painter who used
to breakfast at Chelsea, and when
Mr. Carr asked him if he had been
there lately he replied: “Oh, no; not
now so much, He ask me n leetle
while ago to breakfast, and 1 go. My
cab fare, two shilling, ’arf a crown. I
arrive, very nice. Goldfish in bowl,
very pretty. But breakfast—one egg,
one toast—no more! Oh, no. My cab
fare, two shilling, ’arf a crown. For
me no more!”—London Telegraph.
With a String.
“Do you trust your husband im¬
plicitly?”
“What a question! Why, of course 1
do—to a certain extent.”—Cleveland i
Leader.
It is best to profit by the madness of
others.—Pliny.
DIFFERENT STYLES.
How Meredith and Browning Might
Dascribe the Same Incident.
If Browning and George Meredith
were describing the same act they
might both be obscure, but their oh
scuritles would be entirely different.
Suppose, for instance, they were do
scribing even so prosaic and material
an act as a man Being Knocked down
stairs by another man to whom he
bail given the lie. Meredith's descrip.
tlou would refer to something which
an ordinary observer would not see or
at least could not describe. It might
be a sudden sense of anarchy In the
brain of the assaulter or a stupefnc
tion and stunned serenity in that of
the object of the assault.
He might write: “Wainwood's ‘men
vary in veracity' brought the baronet's
arm up. He felt the doors of his brain
burst and Wainwood a swift rushing
of himself through air, accompanied
with a clarity as of the annihilated,”
Meredith, in other words, would
speak quecrly because ho was dcserib
tag queer mental experiences. But
Browning might simply be describing
the material incident of the man being
knocked downstairs, and his deserip
tion would run;
What then? “You lie” and doormat be
“
Tltis Is not subtlety, but merely a
kind of insane swiftness. Gilbert Iv.
Chesterton.
BEARDED LADIES.
A Parisian Showman Says They Are
Quite Numerous.
An Englishwoman who confesses to
a mild mania for attending the street
fairs common in and around Paris
says that she is always Impressed by
the extraordinary number of bearded
ladies among the attractions.
“I was Inclined to think that they
were fakes,” she says in the London
Gentlewoman, “but when I discovered
that they were quite genuine my sur¬
prise at this wonderful supply of
phenomena grew stronger. And when
a few days ago 1 saw at the fair in
the Avenue d'Orleans a lady exhibited
with a long flowing board I could no
longer withhold my curiosity.
“1 applied for Information to a gen¬
tleman well known in the showman
world and who acts as a kind of agent
to the people owning shows, supply¬
ing them with the necessary goods,
human and otherwise. This gentle¬
man appeared surprised at ray ques¬
tion.
“ ‘Bearded ladies!’ he exclaimed. T
can find as many as I like. You have
no Idea how many women, if they
liked, could rival men ns regards
whiskers and mustaches. But they
are not anxious to enter Into that
kind of competition.’”
Winged Burglars.
Buchner in his “Psychic Life of
Animals” speaks of thievish bees
which, in order to save themselves the
trouble of working, attack well
stocked hives in masses, kill the sen¬
tinels and the inhabitants, rob the
hives and carry off the provisions.
After repeated enterprises of this de¬
scription they acquire a taste for rob¬
bery and violence. They recruit whole
companies, which get more and more
numerous, aud finally they form reg¬
ular colonies of brigand bees. But it
Is a still more curious fact that these
brigand bees can be produced arti¬
ficially by giving working bees a mix¬
ture of honey and brandy to drink.
The bees soon acquire a taste for this
beverage, which has the same disas¬
trous effect upon them as upon men.
They become ill disposed and irritable
and lose all desire for work, and final¬
ly, when they begin to feel hungry,
they attack and plunder the well sup
plied hives.
On* Reason.
There may be two reasons for a
thing, both equally true, and it may
be the height of folly to attribute the
effect to both. 'A gentleman to whom
art was u strange thing asked a friend
to whom the ways of its votaries wero
more familiar:
“Why does Conneray stand off and
half shut his eyes when he looks at
the pictures he is painting? I was In
his studio the other day, and he made
me do it too.”
“That’s simply explained,” replied
the other. “Did you ever try to look
at them near to, with your eyes wide
open? Well, don’t. You can’t stand
It.”—Youth’s Companion.
Didn’t Wait For It.
A couple of Scotch ministers were
talcing dinner together one summer day
tn a little manse in the highlands. It
the Sabbath day, the weather was
beautiful, aud the bubbling streams
were full of trout and the woods full
of summer birds. One turned to the
other and said:
“Mon, don't ye often feel tempted ori
these beautiful Sundays to go out
Ing?” “I
“Na, na,” said the other, never
feel tempted. I julst gang.”
Plenty of Him.
“What sort of man is .links?”
“Tlie Impression you get of Jinks de
pends on the circumstances under
which you meet him. If you’re there
to collect money you won’t like him.
But If you're there to pay money he
seems a lovely character.”
Hi* Way Out of It.
“He don’t give nuthln’ to the church
now?”
“No. Somebody told him the Bible
says salvation Is ‘free,’ an’ he gays fur
be it front him to dispute the Scrip
tures.’”—Atlanta Constitution.
Liberty exists in proportion to whole¬
some restraint.—Webster.
GOOD BUSINESS.
The Thrifty Young Man Found a Prof
itable Investment.
A millionaire, hoping to encourage
^is young ' son In ways of thrift, prom
lsoll to „ lve hhn o por cent a month ju
. ’ , lp ml«rhr
8ave . 0,11 01 '“ s llllowance uei)08lt
lu paternal treasury. The young
mi 111 was getting £5 a week for pocket
money and promised to show his ap
predation of his father's affectionate
offer. He began to make deposits
without delay and kept the practice up
with remarkable regularity,
The ohl gentleman noticed presently
t luit the deposits exceeded the whole
of the boy's allowance, but accounted
f or this by supposing that be had
saved some money previously. Besides
this, ho received money frequently
from his mother. So the fond parent
rejoiced in the saving disposition that
his sou was displaying.
This continued until the boy’s de¬
posits assumed such dimensions as to
demand an explanation. It then turned
out that most of the money he had
been depositing had been borrowed.
Inasmuch as he was drawing Interest
on Ids deposits at 2 per cent per month
and was paying only 10 per cent per
' for them he had found the busi¬
year
ness decidedly attractive and profitable.
—Pearson’s Weekly.
THE DEVILFISH.
He Is Not a Man Eater, but a Gently
Reared Monster.
Contrary to popular belief, the devil¬
fish Is not a man eater, according to
an official publication Issued by the
Smithsonian institution, Washington,
after an authoritative study of tire sub¬
ject by Dr. Theodore Gill, associate in
zoology In the national museum. “The
food of the devilfishes,” he says, “so
far from being large animals and oc¬
casionally a man or so, as has been al¬
leged, appears to be chiefly the small
crabs, shrimps and other crustaceans
and young ov sum!I fishes. Itavely does
one.prey on large fishes.”
l)r. Gill says that in a number of re¬
spects the young devilfish grows up
under nursing and training remarkably
like that of a human being. It is nour¬
ished, for instance, from its mother’s
milk. It is a peculiarity of the devil¬
fish, he adds, that, instead of laying
many thousands or millions of eggs, it
normally has only a single young one
at a hirtli. A baby devilfish is some¬
times as broad as five feet and weighs
twenty pounds or more.
Dr. Gill adds that devilfishes move
about from place to place lu a sort of
submarine flight, speeding themselves
along by flaps of the long winglike
fins.
Day Dreams.
It you have a particular piece of
work to do, get it done. Don’t wait
for the mood to strike you.
Don’t dream! There are more pre¬
cious hours wasted in day dreams
than any of us would cave to think
about if we counted them.
The queer thing about day dreams
is that so few of them ever amount
to anything. The dreamer Is only
semiconscious when building bis air
castles, so, as a rule, they have no
practical foundation.
While you are at work, keep y#ur
mind on what you ale doing, aud do
not let it wander off to what you
would like to be doing. Only by keep¬
ing your mind on what you are doing
now can you bring It fresh aud keen
to the (kings you like doing best when
the time for doing them comes. Think¬
ing too much about even great happi¬
ness takes the “edge” off it.
The best time for day dreams is
after you have gone to bed.—New
York American,
-
The Better Part.
A delightful lttne story is told of
Prosper Morlmee, the French author,
ne was once guest at a royal hunt,
when hares, pheasants and other
game were driven before the emperor
and his followers, and the servants
picked up the victims of the sport.
Among all the members of the hunt
mg party Prosper Merimee alone had
no trophy to display,
“How does this happen?” asked
some one.
“Where game is so plenty the merit
of a marksman seems to tne to lie In
hitting nothing.” replied Merimee,
with grave courtesy, “so I fired be
tween the birds.”
-—
Waiters on Horseback.
I In great French houses of days gone
by dinner was announced by the blow
,
j j lug rd „f that hauling at certain horns, gala and it feasts Is on rec- the
0
j dishes were brought In by servants in
full armor mounted upon caparisoned
horses, a practice we could only look
j f 0 r during the reign of chivalry. Of
the attendants at dinner the carver and
server took precedence over Ml the
others. They stood probably on each
side of their lord. The server, it may
be mentioned, was the officer who
placed the dishes on the table.
Tit For Tat.
First Teacher-You told me to re
mind you to punish Willie Thompson
this morning for Impudence. Second
Teacher—I’ll do it tomorrow. I’m
called before’ the school hoard today
for Insubordination,—LIpptncott’s.
-
A Secret.
Sparks— I wonder why It Is a woman
j lets out dear everything boy, you tell has her? only Sharks two
—My a woman
views at a secret—either It is not
worth keeping or it Is too good to keep,
— London Opinion, Z
- --
A great man is made up of qualities
that meet or make great occasions.—
Lowell.