Newspaper Page Text
7 m v htt limplmtte.
J. C. HEAR td. and Pub.
VOL XI.
ft A WOMAN’S ADIEU.
r Our lovo is done I
I would not have it back, I say,
I would not have my whole year May!
But yet for our dead passion’s sake.
Kiss me once more and strive to mako
Our Iasi kiss the supremest ons;
For love is done.
•ur love is done!
And still my eyes with tears are wet,
Our .‘ouls are stirred with vague regret;
We gazs farewell, yet cannot speak,
And Arm resolve grows strangely weak,
Though hearts are twain that once wero
one, ^
Since lore is done.
But love is done!
I know it, row it, and that kid-
Must set a finis to our bliss.
Yet when I felt thy mouth meet mine,
My life again seemed half divine,
fm- very hearts together ruut
Can love bi done?
Can lovo be dona?
Who cares if this ba mad or wise?
Trust not my words, but read my eyes.
Thy kiss bade sleeping love awake:
Then take me to thy heart; ah I take
The life that with thine own is one,
Love is not done!
—.4nue Reece Aldrich , in Spirit.
AGAINST WIND AND TIDE.
BY ANNA SHEII.DS.
People iu Maysvillo always shrugged
their shoulders when Mark Lamson was
mentioned, and usually the expressive
gesture was followed by some depreca¬
ting remark.
“Comes of bad stock,” old Judge Len-
dox would say, in his pompous dictator¬
ial manner. “All the Lamsons were
worthless, and Mrs. Lamson was a-
Hedge, and everybody knows what they
are.”
The house in which Mark was born,
and where he scrambled up to manhood,
was a largo farm house, tumbling to
pieces inside, with a roof always being
patched against leaking, doors without
locks and with shaking hinges, windows
that rattled in every wind, ceilings that
.
dropped plaster whenever a heavy foot
shook the upper rooms and furniture in
the last stage of shabbiuess. His father
and mother were slatternly in dres 3 ,
shiftless in household management, and
;rolged the handsome, bright*boy wa3 over-in-
and neglected as their own indo¬
lence suggested.
But Mark Lamson inherited none of
the leading traits of his pfijents. Prob¬
ably in some remote ancestor there was a
mixture of energy, resolution and ability
of which the Maysvllle gossips had never
heard, and for which they certainly gave
Mark no credit. It was in vain that the
Principal of the Maysvllle High School
declared that Mark bad graduated with
the best rertird he had evw given in the
school. It was useless for tho lad him¬
self to keep his life free from blame, and
earnestly endeavor to do his duty.
Maysvillo could noUforget that he was
a Lamson, and his mbthcr was 'a Hodge
~“bad stock!”
As he passed from boyhood to- man¬
hood, Mark began the unequal struggle
against fate and circumstances, that was
dictated only by his own energy. His
father had been able to get bread from
the farm by a lazy tillage that gave the
bare necessities for tho table; his mother
had a very small income that gave the
three clothing of the poorest description,
and both were in open-mouthed wonder
that Mark was not content, as they had
been, to dawdle through life and “make
out” with what they had.
And Mark, struggling to attain better
things, with only a vague, undisciplined
longing for improvement, met no en¬
couragement at home or abroach He
tried to obtain a situation, but employers
were shy about giving work to a Lamson;
he met but a cool reception at the Mays-
ville social gatherings, having no knowl¬
edge of how to repair his own linen or
keep his poor clothing even tidy. Boy¬
like, he imagined a new suit and gay
necktie were all-sufficient for a party,
and did not heed the frayed cuffs and
broken collars at which the Maysville
belles turned up their noses.
But, in spite of his father’s lazy com¬
ments,his mother’s fretful remonstrances,
Mark Lamson, finding no employment
outside, determined to see if the farm
would not find him in work.
“Oh, yes; do as you please,” his
father said. “But there is no money
for new-fangled fixings, and the land
is about worn out. Plenty of it, to be
sure, but ’tain’t worth shucks.”
|> So, single-handed,Mark undertook the
work of bringing up the old farm. Early
and late he toiled, repairing fences, weed¬
ing, picking stones, rooting out dead
stumps, preparing his land, without one
hand stretched out to help him,one voice
to wish him success. Thomas, the only
man his father employed, gave a surlv re¬
fusal to aid, upon the, ground that his
regular ro>“i u e of shiftless farming took
all liis time, and Mark patiently sub¬
mitted.
He was twenty-one years old, when
into his dull, monotonous life came a new
stimulus—a hope, bright as a vision and
almost as baseless. He fell in love 1 He
did not walk in cautiously, counting his
steps and weighing his chances, but he
fell in plump, suddenly, hopelessly.
There had been a warm discussion at
the Judge's about inviting Mark to the
party that was to celebrate Essie’s
eighteenth birthday and her final return
from boarding-school. But the pet of
the house had a will of her own and
Jively recollection of Mark’s handsome
SPRING PLACE, MURRAY COUNTY, GA. JANUARY ‘^8, 1892.
face and boyish gallantries, and insisted
upon his being invited. Mark, carrying
in his memory only a pretty little girl,
found him3eif confronted by an undeni¬
able beauty; a faca to win homage in far
more pretentious cftcies than Majsviile
boasted, and a gentle grace of manner
none of the girls of his acquaintance had
ever extended to him.
The touch of the soft little hand
offered to greet him riveted the chains
Essie's face-had cast about Mark’s heart,
and made him her slave then and there.
He had starved all his life for sympathy,
aud his first half-hour with Essie filled
his longing heart with content. She re¬
membered all his boyish aspirations; she
entered into all his hopes and ambitions.
The party was the beginning of an inter¬
course that stimulated anew every good
resolution, gave a new vigor to every
hope of Mark's life.
The village was essentially democratic,
and the fact that Essie was the only
child and heiress of the richest, most in¬
fluential man in the place did not prevent
her from visiting Mrs. Lamson upon
terms of perfeot equality. She was fond
of the weak, amiable woman, strongly as
she censured, in her youthful strength,
the.easy-going home indolence that made her
such a scene of confusion and dis
comfort; and, in her gentle, pleasant
way, she endeavoured to brighten that
home for Mark by suggestions and offers
of help that fell to the ground. It was
like figging a feather bed to try to rouse
Mrs. Lamson to an active improvement,
and rebuffed there, Essie could only help
Mark by words of sympathy that were
like wine of life to his love.
An hour with Essie sent him back to
his uphill work full of new hope, every
energy stimulated, every hope bright¬
ened. He had not dared ■ to set before
him in plain words the hopo of one day
winning her heart to his own, for there
was all the humility of true passion in
that young, ardent heart, but he n$L
ized a new force, a new spur to am¬
bition.
Essie never sneered at him as the
neighbors had become accustomed to
doing; Essio never throw cold water
over his plans for improving the land;
Essie was never sarcastic ever the clash¬
ing of liis povery and his ambitions. As
he saw her more frequently, he ventured
to tell her of wider, wilder hopes, of
some day escaping from the drudgery
before him, and making his way to a
city, where his education might give
him a start in more congenial occupation.
“Father aud mother seem to need me,
now,” ho told Essie, one day; “they are
old, and they have no other child,, 1
think it is plain duty to stay.” ‘
my r'*
“your “I think mother it is,” could^.f was arcely tlny-»WSk bear reply;
a sepa¬
ration.” ■ W
“And wnile I am here, I must do the
work that lies under my hand,” he said,
“hard as it isl But Essie,” and his face
brightened, “do $ou know that already
I have made the farm pay double what
it has ever done. Next spying I can
hire help out of money I saved from the
sale of last year’s crops!”
Essie, all eager interest, entered into
discussion of the capabilities of such a
lot for turnips, such a patch for wheat,
the possibilities of a dairy, the b33t cul¬
ture for fowls, as if she had never
studied music or filled her head with
French and German verbs.
But the horror and wrath ot Judge Len¬
nox, when, after two years of mild court¬
ship, Mark took his fate in his hands and
asked permission to marry Essie, cannot
be described.
“A Lamson!” ho cried, when hav¬
ing dismissed Mark he returned to the
bosom of his family. “A Lamson for
Essie’s husband! The fellow wants
my money to spend after all his father
and his grandfather have squandered."
“Do you really and truly think Mark
is a spendthrift, papa?” Essie asked
quietly. “Does he ever lounge about
the stores or taverns, as Harry Carter
and James Rayburn do 1
“I—Well, no, I never saw him,” was
the reluctant admission.
“Did you ever hear that he drank or
gambled, or oven smoked?”
“N-o—I never did.”
“Is he not regular at church?”
“Ye-es.”
“But, oh, Essie!” struck in Mrs, Len-
nor. “What shabby, half-wa3hed
shirts he wears, and hls fingers all out
of his gloves, and half the buttons of his
coat gone 1”
“Poor Mark!” said Essie, gently. “He
needs a wife.”
“Well, ho need not look hero for
one,” growled the Judge. last
“I heard Mr. Thompson say,
week,” said Essie, quietly,“that there is
not a better farm in Greene County than
Lamson’s.”
“Such a palace pf a house 1” the
Judge sneered.
“Mark is hoping to put a new "house
on the place, next year. He has had
builders over from B-, but they say
the old house is beyond repair, and it
would cost less to have a new one.”
“And where is the money to come
from?”
“Where the improved farm came
from,” said Essie; “from Mark’s indus¬
try, perseverance and energy, in the face
of the hardest discouragements ever a
young man had to fight.” “What?
“Eh!” said the Judge.
What?”
“See what he has done,” said Essie,
still in an even, quiet tone that carried
conviction far more than an excited one.
“Eight years ago, when he was but a
boy,°he pift his his playtime shoulder between to the school wheel
and took
hours to-weed and clear away stones.
“ TELL THE TRUTH.”
Nobody helped him. He was ridiculed,
sneered at, discouraged on all side3. He
had the poorest farm in the place, and
he has made it one of the best. He
has put every spare dollar intc
books on agriculture, improved ma¬
chine?, good stock. He has now four
men at work for him, good horses, good
cattle, good poultry, and he will have a
good house. Papa, do you not think it
will be a pity to have the new house in
the care of Mrs. Lamson, to ruin as she
has the old one? ,. Out-doors the manage¬
ment is all left to Mark, aud see what he
has done. But a man cannot make a
home comfortable alone; he needs a
wife.”
•‘Well,” said the Judge, ‘‘let him have
one, but not my child.”
“Still he loves me,” said Essie, “and
I love him!”
“Pshaw!” said the Judge, and marched
out of the house.
But prompt as , ho was . he was just, . .
aud he loved Essie. He had let preju-
dice influence him against Mark all his
life; now he took pains to find out how
much of his dislike was well founded.
’ts estimate, and shouldered upon Mark
all the faults of his ancestors. But the
facts were strong, and Judge Lennox
found himself confronted by them.
Slowly, for he was not easily convinced, eon!
ha took respect into the place of
tempt, and, after a month of patient in-
vestigation, sent for Mark.
The interview was a frank, manly one,
the half old hearted gentleman not of being Vnd. given Ho to
measures auy
admitted his former prejudices, and
heartily commended the young man who
had struggled so nobly.
“When your now house is finished,”
he said, “I will let my Essio bo your wite.
A man who can make? his way against;
wind and tide as you have done, deserves
a happy home.*’
The Judge boing a power In Maysvllle
public opinion veered round, ns soon as
the engagement was-anuouncod.
The now houso boing completed, Essio
became housekeeper, Mrs. Lamon gladly
resigning her feeble reign. And under
tho now regime it was wonderful to see
how oven r’le old people smartened up,
They iu<! no chronic objection ;r>
necessary work; and v>THi Mark and .Vn :
to govern and direct, the Liaison that
hold so lost its old name, you OhnnT
scarcely find to-day in Maysvillo “Mark one I
voice to repeat the old saying .”—-The that Ledger
Lamsong’amo of bad stock
A Very Queer Satellite.
Tho satellite nearest to tho planet real-
Jupiter must bo a singular p lace of
denee, if there bo any possibility of _rc3i-
dents at all resembling human beings. In
tho first place, though it is bigger than
our moon, tho substance of which it is
composed is less than half as light as
cork, so that it i3 not a very solid place
of residence.
In tho next plaoe, though tho sun ap¬
pears very dim from it as compared it has with
what it appears from tho earth, a
moon—namely, Jupiter hundreds itself — of whose
surface appears many times
larger than our moon.
In tho third place, the recent observa¬
tions made of this satellite by Mr. Bar¬
nard, in the great Lick Observatory,
make it not improbable that and this satel¬
lite is reallv cut in two, that there¬
fore thero may be two separato little
worlds, probably not separated by any
very great distance (for the total diame¬
ter of the two together, if thero bo two
divisions of tho satellite which was al¬
ways supposed till quite recently to be
single, is not above 2300 miles across),
revolving togethor through space, sorno
even of the details of one of which
worlds must be visible from the othor.
if thero bo anything like toloscopos on
either half.
If the satellite is not cut in two Mr.
Barnard holds that thero must be a light
fault round it, very like the light belt on
Jupiter itself, and that this light belt
produces the impression of division un¬
der certain circumstances of the orbit.
We may hopo that the Lick Observatory
vrill at length solve the problem. Per¬
haps the residents of the two halves of
the planet, if it be in halves, can really
telegraph to each other .—London Spec¬
tator.
Right Kind of Scissors.
One needs many pairs of scissors, and
true economy consisists in having a pair
for each sort of work. The cutting of
paper is very might trying be to sharpened that steel,
and a pair kept for pur¬
pose. Long slender shears are handy
for general use : buttonhole scissors could
find a place in every work basket; a pair
of scissors for trimming lamps in the
kitchen is necessary where there is no
gaaq grape scissors for the table are not
altogether new; scissors to cut flowers
in the country are a convenience.
Few people carry pocket scissors of
the folding sort. Those that do never
part with them. Convenient for mani¬
cure use, to cut a clipping from a paper
at a moment’s notice, a string, etc., they
answer almost every purpose of the
pocket knife and are much more conven¬
ient to handle. Give a person hocus-
tomed to their use a knife and the pocket
scissors and he will part with the formei
first. No cutting blade should be pul
in the fire, as it will then lose its tempei
which is denoted by its turning blue.
Such a knife or blade will never keej
its edge.— Hardware,
CATCHES RATS FOR CASH
HOW HOUSES ABE CLEARED OF
THE PEST IN NEW YORK.
Traps Which^Cbarm Their Victims
and Deadly Poes Whose Work is
Swtlt and Silent—Use of Kat Oil.
The hunting season is in full blast
now. But as many sportsmen fail to se¬
cure any game with their expensive guns
and methods, perhaps they will be glad
to hear of line hunting opportunities
right in New York. The only draw¬
back is that the game consists altogether
of rats, but apart frem that there is a
lot of excitement and satisfaction to be
had, and a count of heads will generally
show surprising results. Such a hunt,
was recently held in the Slants Zsitung
Building, and one hundred tine large
fellows were bagged. This wholesale
destruction 0 * unplea3nnt * animals
hag caUed UcQt; 0(Jd
tir „ x unWvn but thrivin , r 5usi .
that of , the ,, profesmonal . . , rat-catchcr. , , ,.
arvrrPt * 0r ‘he last thirty-hve ,to years “t","! he has kept
^'Tw P ^ P " ,t0n l -'
Ado!ph towsen « his name, and , he is
fouad » h ‘ s store dad v ’
-
* kou ? h hl 8 so “ 9 harlcs kas suc f eded
^im ’n active t . business. Surrounded by
his tra ^’- er ^ aad fox terriers, the old
maa 13 f “ U ot interesting reminiscence;
and 18 . al wft f 3 ha PP? whca h ? ca “ tcl1
eftehing 80 “?. °9 f trips, . hls which have ia taken , hls , him rat '
over the country from coast to coast,
What 18 hc fl «tThing you do when
7™ toa P kco t0 kdl oil the rats?” ho
was asked the othcr , <%• “ Ab - tbat »
* good question. T I see wo must begin
■ > \ the beginning. Well we ask Kate
where tlm rats are. You know who
Kate is? wall, Kate is the finest fox
terrier for that purpose in the whole
country.. I ve owned her for ten years,
8nd is eleven years old, and what
sho d ? esn t know about rats isu ’t wol ' th
knowing. As soon as she gets in the
P laoe » he sniSs around. When she lo-
cates a P lace wher0 tb e rats have come
ou ni ft gs she bee just tinmAMja^j^^ne and has
fh
jj|
: llioin.
the lioles, we set t ra psftt
there are many rats. If there are not so
many rats we use a different method,
which I will explain later. The trap we
use is the double-jaw game trap which
is used for small game. As soon as a rat
is caught we kill it and take it out and
set the trap for another, for wo watch
the place all through the night (we
always work at night) when we catch
rats.
“But how do you bait the tiaps?”
* “We don't. Now, I’ll tell you a
secret of the trade. We use rat oil,
which we make as follows: We boil
about .100 rats in a large kettle, and
skim off the oil which rises to the top.
This oil is very pungent, and proves a
great attraction. We oil each trap with
just a few drops of it, and that is quite
enough to lure them on.”
And then this modern pied piper said:
“Do you know that we can make the
rats go to the traps? Well, we can.
We walk across the room and, after a
while, the rats follow in our footsteps.
But it isn’t so wonderful when you know
the trick. We simply rub a few drops
of the oil on the sole3 of our shoes, and
drag our feet as we walk toward the
traps. See?”
• “Tell me what you do when there
aren’t many rat3.”
“Well, we take ferrets along in a case
like that. After Kate finds the holes we
stop up all but two. Kate, she watches
one. She’s as good as a man, she is.
And one of my men watches the other.
Then the ferrets are put in, and pretty
soon the rats begin to move out. Any
rat that comes out at Kate's place is a
dead rat that instant. One bite settles
it. But the man can’t bite them. Da
you know what he does? Why, hole he
simply holds Ms hand near the and
the rat walks right into it. He
doesn’t grab it then, or hit it. That
would make it squeal and bite. No
sir; he simply lifts his hand gently with
the rat in it, holding the animal as gent¬
ly as he would a bird. And the rat
never moves and" nor gets frightened. It will
lie in hand never show fight or fear.
He can stroke it and pet it as if it were
a kitten. You don’t believe, that young
man, do you? Come now, that smile
shows me you think this is a whopper.
But I assure you it’s quite true. There’s
something about some men who have
handled wild and shy animals all their
lives which gives them a peculiar power.
Why, I’ve often done it myself, though,
mind you, I don’t say I could do it now,
offhand, because I haven’t tried it for a
long time, and it all depends on the art¬
ful touch. But my son Charley here can
do it. Can’t .you, Charley? And my
four men can do it. They never think
anything of it. Now, don’t you see
what au advantage this is? There is no
noise of clubbing or squealing. The rat
is simply tossed to Kate, and she never
gives it a chance to squeal. She sends
it to rat heaven too quickly for that.
This is important, for if there is any
noise or excitement it settles rat catching
for that night. They’re cute fellows,
these rats .”—New York Herald.
. Kansas .uses sunflower stalks 33 jfcej.
$1.00 a Year in Advance.
SELECT SIFTINGS*
There are six schools in Ireland where
(rish is taught.
The Braganaa diamond, the largest iu
the world, weighs 1880 carats.
It is said that four-fifths of all the
hailstorms occur iu the daytime.
The human heart, in a lifetime ol
sighty years, beats 300,000,000 times.
The tallest and the shortest people of
Europe, the Norwegians and the Lips,
live side by side.
A sheriff in Missouri has received a
request from a Kansas man for two feet
of the rope with which a murderer was
fits. hanged. He says he wants it to cure
A black bear jumped aboard a con¬
struction train near Falmouth, Ohio,and
was apparently enjoying the ride until
lome of the trainmen made their way to
him from the caboose and clubbed him
off.
The United States Marine Corps wa 3
first established by the act of Congress
of November 10, 1775, authorizing the
enlistment of two battalions, to be
ityled “First and Second Battalions of
Marines.”
While making a bolt in the steel
works at Homestead, Penn., recently,
i workman turned off a shaving 265 feet
in length. A shaving 171 feet in length
is exhibited as a great cariosity in the
Woodwich Arsenal, England.
A certain country parson in England
has written 125,000 begging letters. His
wife has written 11,000 more, aud his
children a few thousands beside*. About
sue person in fifty written to responded,
one to the extent of $25,000.
In some of the rags from the Orient
the knots of the threads are so fine that
they cannot be seen by the eye. No
machinery has been introduced there yet
for making rugs and carpets, each tuft
and knot being tied by deft fingers.
A man down iu Maine tacked his will
up on the partition of a woodshed with
a bit of brown paper tacked over it.
There it remained for years, and it was
only after the author’s death that it was
found while his survivors were cleaning
out the old shed.
A few days ago a Chi
Uwoe t.untlno
discovered A handsonffi in Lafayette n aiirraR^VQH| County, Ga. Tt,
contains many rooms of “most exquisite
crystallized beauty,and a yawning abyss,
into which large stones have been thrown,
with no reverberating sounds borne back
to the ear by which its depths might be
gauged.”
Dr. Charles C. Abbott has found a cavt
of slate in Ne w Jersey in which were
discovered vestiges of the life of pre-
Columbian man. There were bits of
charcoal, rude and ancient pottery and
an abundance of mussel shells about tc
show the existence of au occupant ol
the mound-builders. cave, possibly one of the races ol
The will of the late King of Wurtem-
hurg contains some curious legacies. In
accordance with its provisions the boot-
black outside the palace gates i3 to weai
patent leather shoes the rest of his life,
be dressed in blue tweed Mbmespun and
receive a pension of $250 a year. At
old apple woman who sweeps a crossing
around the corner gets a black silk gown
and a small pension. Every son of a
domestic in the King’s service receives
a bequest of $1.25.
A Competent Guide.
One day last spring, a3 I am told, the
tall and dignified President of the Old
Colony Railroad wandered up to the
State House on busine33 connected with
his road. In the corridors of that ram¬
bling edifice he encountered a young
man of smooth face and pleasing addsf ss,
who accosted him at sight, expressed
his pleasure at meeting him, and offered
to aid him in any way possible, which
aid President Choate gladly accepted.
When the errand was completed, Mr.
Choate, jn3t before his departure,thanked
his assistant very heartily and then said:
“By the way, although your face is very
familiar, I can’t quite recall your name,
and I should like to know to whom I am
so much indebted.” “Oh, yes; cer¬
tainly. My name is Russell; I am the
Governor .”—Boston Post.
.
The Indian as a Cultivator,
j The popular idea of the the Indian roam¬
ing over praries, living on fruits ol
the chase and just what he can gather,
does not properly characterize all of tho
tribes. Some of the Indians of the
South and Southwest were excellent ag¬
riculturists. In Georgia and Alabama,
when the white man first went among
the Natchez Indians he found them all
cultivating maize, beans, sunflowers,
sweet potatoes, melons, pumpkins and a
large number of the native fruits growing
m orchards—persimmons, honey locusts,
mulberry, black walnuts and shellbarks
of the best kind were sorted and planted
by them. Many of the New Mexican
and Arizona Indians were also far ad¬
vanced in the agricultural art.— Meehan's
Monthly.
_____
It is believed that there arc 1800 pro¬
fessional women painters, sculptors and
engravers in Paris, France, besides those
who live by yuinUii«r menus, ism, «4o.
NO. 47.
LEFT UNDONE.
It isn’t the thing you do, dear,
It’s the thing you've left undone,
Which gives you a bit of headache
At the setting of the sun;
The tender word forgotten.
The letter you did not write,
The flower you might have sent," 1
Are your haunting gtlosts to-aigj.
The stone you might have lifted
Out of a brother’s way.
The bit of heartsome counsel
You were hurried too much to say
The loving touch of the hand, dear.
The gentle and winsome tone.
That you had no time or thought for
With troubles enough of your own
The little act of kindness,
So easily out or mind;
Those chances to be angels
Which every mortal finds—
They come in night and silence—
Each chill, reproachful wraith—
When hope is faint and flagging,
And a blight has dropped on faith.
For life is all too short, dear,
And sorrow is all too great.
To suffer our slow compassion
That tarries until too late.
And it’s not the thing you do, dear,
It’s the thing you leave undone,
Which gives you the bit of headache
At the setting of the sun.
—Margaret E. gangster*
1IUM0B OF THE DAY.
Au old-timer—The sun-dial.
The golden mien—Putting on airs.
A blunder buss—Kissing the wrong
girl . .—Pittsburg Dispatch.
A shrinking little thing—Your last
dollar when it’s changed.
When a man makes a dye museum of
his head he looks like a freak.
Visitors would sometimes like to
make a precocious child smart .—Buffalo
Truth.
The man with an elastic step probably
wears Congress gaiters— Binghamton Re¬
publican.
The small child is likely to look a gift
horse in the mouth, and to put it there,
too— Pud.
The initial is the n fug..- - , jH
oai
ant to g
tele. *
IPi^^WfBWttly »rried a wav v. iglp it'll udthu- Uik
disgust.—Yaws brought
Siftings.
“Ahl this is the lap of luxury,”
purred the old cat, as she stole the rich*
cream from a pan of milk.
•The reason why the ocean is so often
called treacherous aust be because it i 3
full of craft —Boston Post.
A few statistics never fail to soon
satisfy an au lienee if they are thor¬
oughly dry.— Galveston Jfbws.
“You’re a dead loss to yourself” is
the latest sarcastic way of telling a man
he is no good .—Philadelphia Record,.
“Is Fletcher sure his wife’s poodle is
dead?” “He must be. I see he’s offer¬
ing $50 reward for it ."—Brooklyn Life..
Love at first sight does not wear spec¬
tacles. That may be why it seldom oc¬
curs in Boston .—Binghamton Republican ,
A mother may know it, but she’ll
never admit that any other woman’s child
is as smart as her own .—New York Jour¬
nal.
“Do you know it tako3 fifty leaves of
gold to make the thickness of ordinary
paper? “Oh, that’s too thin!”— Jewel¬
ers' Circular.
There’s no disgrace in being poor.
The thing is to keep quiet and not let
your neighbors know anything about it.
—Texas Siftings.
You will usually fiud it tbo case that
the man. who has the most irons in the
fire has a wife who has to furnish the
kindling .—Atchison Globe.
■ Lady (engaging servant)— seem
to possess every necessary qualification.
Have you got a sweetheart?” Servant—
“No, mum; but I can soon get one.”—
The Comic.
“I’ve gota good idea for this season,”
said a baseball manager. “What is it?”
“I’ve got a deaf umpire. He can see
everything, but he can’t hear any kick¬
ing .”—New York News.
“So you are on a star tour,” said the
Circus Lion to the Dancing Bear; “pray,
tell me, is that fellow thero with the
chain your messenger?” “Yes,’’replied man.”—
the Bear, “and also my leading
Baltimore American.
“I hear that water sold at twenty-five
cents a glass in the newly-opened lands
of Oklahoma. Is it so?” “Quite likely,”
replied the returned boomer. “I don’t
know, though. I didn’t havo time to
wash while I was there .”—Buffalo Ex-
press.
“A fast horse, is he?” “Trots like a
streak ot greased lightning.” “Well,
that’s fast enough. What do you call
him?” “What Ma Says." “What Ma
Says 1 That’s a strange name. Why do
you call him that?” “Because whatma
says goes.”
Doctor—“Notwithstanding the fact
that there are new diseases coming up
every day, the old ones seem to hold their
fewu all the same.” Tartar—“Yest
Well, that may be, but there’s <mo of the-
old sort that doesn’t seem to affect my
out-of-town customers at all.” Doctor—
“What is that?” Tartar—“The remit¬
ting fever .”—Boston frurnad.