Newspaper Page Text
pfina ®ta 1 limplrrtife.
J. C. HEARTSELL, Ed. and Pub.
VOL XII.
“DEM TALLER SHOES.’*
BY JOHN OS WITT,
X’ee trabeled dls yer country,
I'se ridden many miles,
I'se seen do biggest cities,
I’se worn der white folks tile*;
Bey’s Bey’s called me niggar often,
Bnt nebber heaped indooeed tae wid abase,
l it me
'Towardem jailer she. a.
Use prond I is « niggar.
I know s whar I’se brot np.
Ole murder nebber would nab
Frown sucb shoes to our pup;
He blonged to all dev sy-tics.
But Payed beingcr heaps an heaps er dues,
white gent-men,
He wore no yaller shoes.
I’se wurked as er porter,
On one ub Pullman’s kyari,
I used to make mv lib-bing
Bat By tips 13e and good eig-yars;
My new place 1 le try Lab white-washing, ter lose,
I’se Knocked out by “po white trash,'
What w ars dem yallor shoes.
mum HUM;
-OB-
The Strange Tragedy of the
Grand Hotel,
BY ARTHUR GRIFFITHS.
CHAPTER X.
OFFICIALS—ENGLISH AND OTHERS.
REACHED Cadiz on the
S fcLi? s ’ xt h evening after my depar-
ture from Bvtbesea.
1 I took up my quarters at
the Fonda del Mar, one of
the best of tho mauy indif-
OSuriYnfilll ferent hotels in the’“Silver
i llucer ” as Cadiz is called
' -
What was I in search of?
of f° rmer intimacy,
acquaintance, less connection,
Cl more or close, between
^ a Mr. Peter Sarsfield and
Cl TVS'* Xavier de Cocch; Yriarte, alias
g -loseph formerly Cadiz the merchant; one,
a
the other, till only recently, a sea captain
sailing from the same port.
1 decided at length to make inquiries
for Mr. Sarsfield. My first visit was to
the British Consulate. The Vice Consul,
Mr. Matthew Cripps, a dried-up little
man of middle ago, received me, bis
chief being for the moment absent on
leave.
“Although I have but little hope of ob¬
taining an answer, did you over hear of a
man named Xavier de Yriarte, a sailor,
belonging to Cadiz?” I asked him.
“A Spanish se iman and subject, I sup¬
pose. No, sir, I hate never heard of the
man. You bad better apply to the Cap¬
tain of the Port.”
As I was quite hopeless of extracting
anything from Don Mateo Cripps, I loft
the Consulate aud returned somewhat
disheartened to my hotel.
Mr. Sarsfield for tho moment had
eludod my researches, so I determined to
devote myself to Yriarte.
Before facing tho cer ain vexation of
further inquiry, and feeling that, bad ns
was my semi-British official, the native
Spaniard would be infinitely worse, es¬
pecially to one who spoke little of the of
vernacular, I now secured the services
a guide aud interpreter. Raman Zapato
was one of half a dozen such that hung
about the Fonda del Mar.
Taking the telegraph office on my Smart, wav,
whence 1 dispatched a message to
asking whether Mr. Sarsfield was Protest¬
ant or Catholic. I went on to Bee the
Captain of the Fort. half hour I
introduced After waiting quite nn of was fat
into the presence a very
old man, who appeared to have been just
Housed from heavy slumber and to be still
half asleep. He wore a thin, short jacket
of alpaca, showing an open shirt-front,
white duck trousers and white canvas
shoes.
Ho was told the object of my visit by
Ramon, but he vouchsafed no reply; he
only stared silently, indignantly, 1
thought, for many more minutes, then
his huge body was convulsed with inter¬
nal the commotion, and ho yelled suddenly
at top of his voice:
“Manoel!”
The shout summoned a lesser official,
the counterpart of his chief, but on a
smaller scale.
“Manoel!” repeated the loudly, Captain of the
Port, only ’and a little less “take this
Caballero tell him what he wants to
know. Do not let me be disturbed ag <in,
or, by tne ten lives of my patron saint,
I’ll postpone your pay another year."
We were dismissed, aud going out Ra¬
mon “I'll whispered to Manoel, me: half doubloon.
give him, a
He'll be as e isy as a glove after that.”
And the bribe bad the desired effect, for
the “Xavier man was all eagerness to sailor? oblige.'
de Yriarte? A What
Bhip? Can’t tell? Was he a mate, a mas¬
ter. captain, or what?”
He danced about, took down many
brass-bonud volumes, wildly turned over
leaf after leaf; but it was near half an
hour before he said:
“The only person of the name was
Captain of the Dos Hermanos (Two
Bro hers), which cleared from this port
on March 10, 18fi—.”
“Where bound?”
“Bound for the Havana.”
“And when did the ship return?"
There was another long pause.
“I cannot find that she ever returned,"
said Manoel, at length. “There is no
other entry concerning her.”
“No trace of Captain Yriarte?”
“No; none whatever, so far as I can
see. n
He re-examined the registers, with no
more satisfactory bad result, the and I left the
port office, as I consulate, almost
in despair.
But I had no thought of giving in; I
was determined to prosecute my search
to the end. I now found P.amon very
useful. It was his suggestion that in¬
quiries should be made among the sailors
of tho port; the harbor was crowded with
shipping, there must the surely be some one
onboard or at quiy-side to whom
Yriarte was known. This task I intrusted
to the guide, resolving myself to take the
first steamer to Gibraltar, encouraged to
to do so by Smart. a telegram received that even¬
ing from
ant”; It contained but knew the single that word “Protest
I now the marriage
must have been performed gt Gibraltar,
SPRING PLACE, MURRAY COUNTY. GA. APRIL 7, 1892.
and Sarsfield I had some',ague, would probably fresh hope that
Mr. be better
remembered there in an English fortress
town than in Cadiz, the sleepy Spanish
seaport.
I called on the police magistrate, Major
Crichton. I found myself in the presence
of a man who impressed me favorably at
once.
“A marriage? You want proof of a
marriage? Nothing easier. What are
the names? When did it take place?”
I confessed my inability to supply all
these details.
“Never mind. If yon knew all that,
probably yon would know?” not apply to us. But
now much do you
•Only “It’s one name—that of Sarsfield.*
jandro. ” not He much. called However—here, in Ale¬
to whom he few a brief police inspector,
gave a instructions
in Spanish, and tjxe man immediately left
the room. “Come back, Mr.—Mr. Leslie,
this afternoon. We will have the certifi¬
cate for yon. Meanwhile, you may like
to see something of the Rock, the galle¬
ries, and so forth. I will give you a per¬
mit. Yon will get a guide at your hotel.
Good-day.” And
1 was bowed out, having done
more in five minutes than in a whole day
at Cadiz.
I returned to the police station at 3
o’clock, and was admitted at once.
“Ah, good-afternoon. This is what
you want, 1 think.” And the magistrate
promptly which handed me a slip of paper,
from proved to be a certified extract
the marriage register of the En¬
glish cathedral at Gibraltar, and which
recorded the marriage of oue Peter Sars-
field, of the firm of Cooch & Izquierdo,
of Cadiz and Havana, with Anna, daugh¬
ter of the late Lucas Garcia, of Cadiz.
"Coocli! My eye caught the name di¬
rectly. Here was posit,ve evidence of
some connection between the two men at
last. The name Yriarte bad assumed
was that of a member of the firm to
which Mr. Sarsfield belonged; the sailor
had probably been employed by tne
merchant, had commanded a ship of his,
the Dos Hermanos, possibly; perhaps
during that time had acquired some hold
—no, I was getting on too fast. Hasty
deduction again; I must verify these as¬
sumptions before reasoning from them,
and to do that I must return to Cadiz.
With that I rose to take my leave of
Major Crichlou.
There was nothing now to detain me
in Gibraltar, much to draw me back to
Cadiz. How could I soouest return
there?
I heard at my hotel that an American
man-of-war was in the bay on the point
of starting for Cadiz. Without hesita¬
tion I gathered my traps together and
went off in a shore-boat to ask passage.
The Captain, to whom I sent my card,
received mo on the quarter-deck, but
politely United yet firmlv refused my request,
“A States ship is not a Cunai’d-
er, where sir. else.” Guess you’ll have to apply some¬
I explained that only the extreme
urgency of my case, the pa 1 amount im¬
portance of wy returning speedily to
Cadiz, would have induced me to in¬
trude.
"Why are you in such a hurry? Why
don't you ask your own people—you’re a
Britisher, I presume?"
“I should certainly have asked them or
any one, had any other steamer been un¬
der way for Cadiz; but your ship is the
only oue, and I have ventured to throw
myself on your generosity."
“It’s very argent, is it?” asked the Cap¬
tain, clean curiously; of heels?” “not a case of bolt—a
I laughed pair I assured him
as that I did
not belong to Gibralter—that, I had only
visited which it on special business, him the naturo
of I hinted to very plainly.
“Detective, eh—a limb of the law?
Well, every good citizen, whatever his
flag, is bound to respect and aid the law.
You may bring your traps aboard."
I thanked Captain Yerheyden warmly,
and quickly availed myself ef his per¬
mission; indeed, tho civility shown me
did not end here, with the passage so hos¬
pitably accorded, as I was pleased to find
after luy return to Cadiz.
CHAPTER XI.
DETAILS OF THE DEAD.
Ramon, the guide, reported himsell
next morning. His littlo, round, sallow
f.ice was twinkle beaming satisfaction with delight, and there
was a of in bis small,
black, beady eyes.
"Good news, aenor mio," he began, “1
have heard of our man.”
“Of Yriarte? Capital? But how?” 1
inquired. of
“One tho crew of the Clavel—s
three-masted xebecque from the Canaries
with —by nime Bartolomeo Delgado, sailed
him several voyages to the Havana."
Bartolomeo was brought in, a true type
of the Southern sailor, short, squarely
built, black as a Lascar, iu a blue-imd-
white striped jersey thrown open, show¬
ing his little brawny, hairy chest, on which
lay ribbon a “Agnus Dei," hanging from ii
round his neck. ,
He stood silent and stolid till he heard
the chink of the dollars as I counted
them out on the table, and then declared
himself mine body and soul.
“He kn6tv Captain Yriarte?" I asked
through Ramon. Of
“ Seguro. course; I made many
voyages with him to the Havana in the
Dos Hermanos.”
“Who were the owners? Does he re¬
member? Ask him that," I went on.
r “Why not? Rich merchants of the
Havana—Cooch & Izquierdo.”
Again, that name, wanted fresh corroboratien;
exactly what I to know.
“And he thinks the ship was lost a)
sea?”
At th s question the sailor pursed up hie
lips sideways and turned out the palms
ot his hands, a said: ge-ture indicating uttei
ignorance, and
“Dios aabe" (God knows). “She nevei
come back to Cadiz.”
“Tho captain did, though, and you have
seen him, you admit. When and where
was this?"
The man hesitated; but the money was
not yet his, and I insisted on an answer.
“Yes—here in Cadiz. I think so, that
is to say.”
“In “No, the aposado; port?” wine-shop the
at a on
wharf, the sign of ‘The Salt Codfish,’ a
house we sailors use."
“Did you speak to him?”
At first Delgado would not allow that
he had, bnt when pressed he admitted
that the captain and he had drunk a pint
of wine together.
“And he told yon where he had been all
these years?”
“TELL THE TRUTH.”
“Away yonder—in the Havana.”
“Always in the Dos Hermanos?”
Ouien aabe? I suppose so.”
“Till she was lost? Did he tell you
how it happened? Where?”
“No.” This was a lie. I felt sure, from
the way in which it was said. “But he
told me he never meant to go to sea
again.” Had he made
“ Why not? his fortune?”
“Oh. no; but he had enough to live up¬
on. would He had let him good friends, too. They
not want, he said. ”
Did this refer to Mr. Sarsfield, and
some “Friends; contemplated relations, scheme I of extortion?
suppose, in Ca¬
diz? Do you know them? Who are thev?
Rich?'
“His mother lives; but she is certainly
not rich.”
"What is her address?"
“She belongs to Puertocito del Rio, a
village 1 promised down the myself coast the a few pleasure miles. ”
of an
early call upon the Senora Yriarte, but
just now the English mail arrived, and
as they brought me iu my letters I dis¬
missed Bartolomeo, with his reward.
Mr. Smart had written to me a letter,
answering my telegram more at length:
“I had no difficulty in sending you tbs
information you sought, for just when it
reached me our friend, Captain Fawcett,
hud called, and was sitting with me. He
had come to put me on guard, he said. ”
Fawcett volunteering assistance to the
police, I thought to myself. How strange!
“He is not wrapped up in you, I find.
You will probably think you know why.
Yes, he suspects you of having set tho
girl against him, of having cut him out
with her; but he suspects, or pretends to
suspect, you of more than that. Do you
know, Mr. Leslie, he almost persuaded
me? I began to think we were pretty
flats to let you get aw iv to Spain. It was
he who first reminded me that we had no
extradition treaty with that country.”
The scoundrel! Does he dare to ac¬
cuse me?
“I was wondering whether you hail
pone there on purpose to give us the slip
when your telegram arrived, and 1 felt I
probable waB near doing would you an injustice. Was it
you wire to mo like that
if you were not acting on the square?
But this Fawcet* is a clever, artful chap,
I can tell you; and he put the case very
well. Why had you made yourself so
busy, tho criminal—putting why so anxious to help us run iu
us on tho track first
of this person, then that, and all wrong¬
ly—except self? to divert suspicions from your¬
W by bad you been so fierce against
Mr. Sarsfield? Why threaten him-"
I started as I read" this part of the let-
tor.
letters, “Why threaten him with anonymous
secuting giving him such a shock and per¬
the poor man till he had a lit,
and was almost given up for dead?"
I had here the clew to tho contents of
that letter which had such an effect upon
Mr. Sarsfield, aud which I had Suen Faw-
cott snatch from his tinge,s and read. It
was clearly an attempt at extortion, a
threat of exposure, a resolve to make
public and some facts known to the writer
Sarsfield. dangerously compromising to Mr.
Who could bo tho writer?
I Only one person—Cornells.
was now more than ever convinced
that the waiter was au important witn- ss
in this case; that he knew more about it
and Mr. Sarstield’s connection with it
than any of us. He must be found and
compelled to speak somehow’, by fair
means or foul; to that I liad quite made
up my mind.
Mr. Smart’s letter did not tell me much
more. He said that Mr. Sarsfield had
been very ill—ho had had some seizure, it
was supposed—but left at any rate he had
not his room since his fall, and that
little had been seen of the ladies. For¬
tunately Captain Fawcett had paid his
visit to tho police office, and had an¬
swered my question as to Mr. Sarsfield’s
faith; otherwise I should not have heard
so soon.
Ramon came to be by appointment that
afternoon, and we took the train together
to within a mile of the village Puertocito
del Rio, where I was told the dead man’s
mother lived.
It was only a small place, half a dozen
whitewashed huts lying at the mouth of a
stream with fiat, sandy banks.
“ Quicn ea?” (Who is it?) awkedau aged,
quavering told voice from inside the hut they
us belonged to the abuela (grand¬
mother) Yriarte.
We entered the hut, a mere hovel, with
a circular strip of matting on the sandy
floor, a table and one or two cane-bot¬
tomed chairs tho only furniture.
The occupant was in keeping with her
house; on old, very aged woman she look¬
ed, with her shriveled, parchment-like
•kin, her straggling, snow-whiteelf locks,
toothless gums and pointed chin. She
seemed half crazed, yet there was still tire
in her dark, wandering eyes, fierceness in
the well-developed board andmustachios,
and she spoke iu the deep bass of a vigor¬
ous man.
“Who are you? What brings you hith¬
er?" she asked, most ungraciously.
Ramon replied with the utmost sweet¬
ness;
“We came, madam, to inquire for your
worship’s him?” son. Can you give us news of
“I cannot. He is not here. Begone.”
“But you saw him lately, I think? He
visited your ladyship not many weeks
ago?"
house “May not a son come to his mother'*
without furnishing gossip for every
evil tongue? Was it strange he should
return after all these years of absence? I
mourned him as dead”—she said this to
herself—“dead, my only son.”
“He was shipwrecked, I think?” went
on Ramon, seeking to bring her bach to
the point.
“Did they tell you so? They lied. He
was in trouble, terrible trouble. They
kept him convicted. from me by force. He was ac¬
cused, But he was not to
blame, not alone,” she repented more
than once, “and those that made him
suffer shall pay for it; yes, they shall pay.
We shall be rich, very rich.”
She leaned her with skinny fingers on Ra¬
mon’s sleeve, as deep impressive¬
ness she whispered those words, which ho
quickly translated to me.
“What has he done? Ask her that,” I
hurriedly told Ramon.
“Let him tell you,” was her answer “I
will not, not till he gives me leave. ”
“You may not see him for some time.’’
It was thus I sought to break to her the
news of his awful death, news that could
have hardly reached her yet.
“He w coming to pie soon, sojyj, to
take me away from here, from this hovei,
these rags; he will give me a big house
•n the sea-wall at Cadiz, and I shall never
eoil my fingers or weary mv limbs with
work again. I shall be rich!' I shall have
gold, “You gold! He is coming soon.”
“He are mietakon, senora."
cried, sent, himself, to tell me so,” she
angrily here interrupting. “His messen¬
ger was he only a few days ago, the
man sent for his sea-trunk.”
A message from the dead, from beyond
the grave! Impossible! Some one, per¬
haps, foro that Yriatte had commissioned be-
the foul blow was struck? This was
my first thought; but a second told me I
was probably wrong.
[TO BE CONTINUE!}. 1
Good Rules to Follow.
depends First, be honest and truthful. All
upon this.
If you have work to do. do it cheer¬
fully.
If you go out on business, attend to
the matter promptly, and then prompt¬
ly go about your business.
Don’t stop to tell stories.
If you have a place of business, be
there during business hours.
No one can get rich by sitting around
stores and saloons.
If you have to labor for a living, re¬
member that one hour in the inorniug
is better than two at night.
Do not meddle with any business
you know nothing of.
Do not lie in too great haste to got
rich.
A good business habit and reputa¬
tion are always money.
Learn to say no. There is no neces¬
sity of snapping it out, but say it firmly
and respectfully,,
Learu to think and act for yourself.
Keep ahead rather t lia a behind time,
for it is easier to keep ahead than to
catch up.
THfi LAND OF THIRST.
A Feature of the Great American
Desert in California.
The most fatally famous part of the
Great American Desert is Death Valley,
iu California. There is on all the globe
no other spot more forbidding, more
desolate, more deadly. It is ft oonceu-
tration of the horrors of that whole
hideous area; and it tins a bitter history.
One of tho most interesting and
graphic stories 'I ever listened to was
that rolated to mo, several years ngo, by
one of the survivorsof tho famous Death
Valley Brier, party of 1819—the Rev. J. W.
an aged Methodist clergyman now
aving in California. A party of five
hundred emigrants started on the last day
of September, 1849, from tho southern
end of Utah to cross the desert to the,
then new, mines of California. There
wore one hundred and five canvas-topped
wagons, drawn by sturdy oxen, beside
which trudged the shaggy men,
rifle in hand, while under tho
canvas children. awnings In rode short the women and
a time there was
division of opinion as to the proper route
across that pathless waste in front; and
next day five wagons and their people
went oast to reach Santa Fe (whence
there were dim Mexican trails to Los Au-
goles), and the rest plunged boldly into
the desert. The party which went by
wuy of Sunte Fe readied California in
December, after vast sufferings. Tho
larger company traveled in comfort for
a few days until they reached about
where Pioohc now is. Thou they entered
the Land of Thirst; and for more than
three months wandered lost iu that realm
of horror. It was almost impossible to
get with wagons through a country furrowed
their vehicles, canons; so packing they soon abandoned
what they could
upon the backs of tho oxen. They
struggled find on to glittoring lakes, only to
barren them deadly poison, or but a mirage
on sands. Now and thou a wee
lifo. spring in the mountains gave them new
Ono by one the oxen dropped, day
by day the scanty flour ran lower. Nine
young men who separated from the rest,
being families, stalwart and unencumbered with
reached Death Valley ahead of
the others, and were lost. Their bones
were found many years later by Govern¬
or Blaisdell and his surveyors, who gave
Death Valley its name.
I he valley lies in Inyo County, and
is about one hundred and fifty’ miles
long. In width it tapers from three
miles at its southern end to thirty at the
northern. It is over two hundred feet
below the level of the sea. The main
party crossed it at about the middle,
where it is but a few miles wide, but suf¬
fered frightfully there. Day by day
some of their number sank* upon tho
burning vivors sands never to rise. The sur¬
were too weak to help the fallen.
The strongest of the whole party was
nervous, littlo Mrs. Brier, who had"come
to Colorado an invalid, and who shared
with her boys of four, seven and nine
years of age that indescribable tramp of
nine hundred miles. For the last three
weeks she had to lift her athletic husband
from the ground every morning and
could steady him for a few moments before he
stand. She gave help to wasted
giants Before, any one of whom, a few months
could have lifted her with one
bund.
At last the few survivors crossed the
range which shuts off that most dreadful
of deserts from the garden of the world,
and wore tenderly nursed to health at
the hacienda, or ranch house, of a court¬
hundred ly Spaniard. Mr. Brier had lost oue
thin pounds in weight, and the others
were in proportion. When l saw
him last he was a hale man of seventy-
five, cheerful and active, but with strange
furrows in his face to tell of those by¬
gone still sufferings. living, His heroic boys littlo wife
was and the who had
such a bitter experience as perhaps no
other boys ever survived, are now stal¬
wart men.—-[St. Nicholas.
$1.00 a Year in Advance.
WORDS OF WISDOM.
No man ever loved a woman while he
was busy.
Few of us give our critics the attention
they deserve.
You can often measure a man’s debts by
the size of his diamonds.
Fierce disputes arise occasionally in
which both parties are right.
After a man passes fifty he has more
friends in the next world than he has in
this.
It is a great deal easier to jump out of
the frying pan than it is to jump out of
the fire.
There are not many men so good that
they can do right without first having a
struggle.
There are too mauy men who sneer at
the importance of going home promptly
at meal time.
A sensitive mau carries his heart in his
sleeve, and every man who passes him
rubs against it.
A great man does not swagger or stmt,
but the little man who has been told he
looks like him does.
After they are married, a man’s idea
of comfort seems to be the privilege of
sitting around in his 3hirt sleeves.
Tk 3 young man in search of a wife
goes about looking for an ideal woman.
The older mac goes about looking for a
practical woman when he wants to wed.
The mau who is always anticipating
happiness to-morrow is a good deal bet¬
ter off, any way, than the mau who spends
his time thinking how wretched he was
day before yesterday.
Cultivating aud Cooking Cassava.
The cultivation of cassava gives very
little trouble. A heap ot earth is scraped
together, and three or four cuttings are
pushed iuto the loose dirt. About two
months alter ward the weeds are hoed out
and the earth is gathered about the i;oots.
Nothing more is necessary. In the
country of the Balolo, near the equator,
it is always summer, so that it is a
■natter of little or no consequence what
time of year crops are planted. In tht
same field both cassava and Indian corn
may be seen at all seasons, and in all
stages of growth.
The cassava root, when full grown, is
often as large and stout as a man’s arm.
The tubers are dug up and boiled, or
they are peeled and dried in the sun, or
smoked in the house or on a framework
of poles in the forest. Then they will
keep for any length of time, and when
cooked for a few minutes they become
very palatable to hungry Balolo. Tht
luxuriance of growth that one sees in au
African cassava field would surprise a
Floridian or even a dweller in tropical
Brazil.
The favorite method of cooking the
cassava root is to make it into besomba,
a kind of pudding or moist, solid bread.
The roots are first soaked in running
water for a few days. When the water
is deep the cassava is put into a basket
which is tied to a stake. After soaking
for several days the rods become quite
soft; the bark-like skin is then rubbed
off, and the roots are pounded in wooden
mortars. The pestles are sometimes
made of a hard wood-like teak, but a
piece of elephaut’s tusk is preferred.
When a woman pounds cassava she sits
on the ground with the mortar between
her knees and holds the pestle with both
hands. The mashed cassava is wrapped
up in plantain leaves, tied with string
made from the tough, fibrous root of a
vine, aud goes iuto the family pot.
When ready for the table it appears of
about the same consistency as chees9,and
is rather solid food, but very nourishing.
The taste is rather sour, but not at all
unpleasant even to a civilized palate.—
New York Independent.
How to Read the Tongue.
The principle involved iu the old say¬
ing, “The mau who is his own lawyer
has a fool for his client,” holds good,
though iu a less degree, of the man who
dallies with home remedies when severe
sickness is imminent, instead of calling
in professional medical aid. Neverthe¬
less there are certain indications of dis¬
order which every one should be able to
read the significance of, and foremost
among these is the appearance of the
tongue. The Medical Adviser gives a
few concise hints which will be useful
in this relation. The perfectly healthy
tongue is clean, moist, lies loosely iu the
mouth, and has no prominent papillae.
The tongue may bj furred from local
causes or sympathy with tho stomach,
intestines or liver. The dry tongue oc-
curs most frequently in fever, and indi¬
cates a nervous ptostratiou or depression.
A white tongue is diagnostic simply of
the feverish condition, with perhaps a
sour stomach. When it is moist and
yellowish brown it shows disordered di¬
gestion; when dry and brown, a low
state of the system, possibly typhoid.
When it is dry and red and smooth, in¬
flammation, gastric or intestinal, is at
hand. When the papillae on the end of
the tongue are raised and very red, “the
“strawberry tongue” is developed, and
that means scarlet fever. A sharp-
pointed red tongue suggests brain irrita¬
tion or inflammation, and a yellow coat¬
ing indicates liver derangement. It will
thus be seen that it is worth while to ac¬
quire the reading of a health barometer
at once so useful and so hantjy.—
Courier-Journal.
There are thirty colored men in the
priesthood of the Protestant Episcopal
Church of America.
NO. 5.
why?
I wonder why, six months ago,
When we two met to say good-by,
And roses tossed their scented snow
To wooing winds that whispered nigh;
When sunlight fell in glittering showers
The blossom-laden boughs among.
And all the earth was bright with flowers.
And all the air was glad with song;
That, even though you bent and kissed
The tearful cloud upon my face,
I only saw a world of mist
Which held no beauty aud ho grace I
I wonder why, now days are cold.
And no gay wing the coppice stirs;
Now snow lies thickly o’er the world,
And mournful winds are in the firs:
Nor sun, nor bird, nor flower, I miss,
Because at tbs old place we stand,
(There are no tsars for you to kiss,)
And once moreewhisper hand in hand:
That though the earth is wrapped in gloom.
And leaden clouds shut out the sky.
My world seems filled with light aud bloom
And summer warmth—I wonder why!
—E. Matheson. in Chambers's Journal.
PITH AM) POINT.
Men of positive convictions—State
prison inmates.—Lowell Courier.
One of the hardest lines of duty to a
woman is the clothes line. — Dallas
News.
The woman who blames herself for a
man’s misdeeds is apt to find him cheer¬
fully acquiescing in her views.—Indian¬
apolis Journal.
“What do you think of your new
governess, Tommy?” “Oh, she’s all
right for a beginner, but she’ll soon
learn.”—Boston Post.
“Buntle is very aristocratic, is he
not?” “Yes, indeed; he refused to
marry a lady because she had a low
voice.”—Boston Gazette.
Passenger (familiarly to street-car con¬
ductor)—“How are you this morning?”
Conductor (extending his hand politely)
—“Fare.”—Lowell Citizen.
Ethel—“Jones is a very melancholy
man. ” Reid—“Yes. He was so weli
brought up iu his youth that he’s never
been able to get any fun out of life.”—
Brooklyn Life.
Prisoner (who has ju3t been success¬
fully defended by his attorney on a
charge of burglary, eagerly)—“You’ll
defend me next time, too, won’t you?"
Fliegende Blaetter.
It is difficult to say which is the more
exasperating, the man who treads on your
heels on the public sidewalk or the man
who in front of you will persist iu keep¬
ing his heels in the way of your toes.—
Boston Transcript.
Mr. Bunker (trying to establish a
basis of conversation)—“A nice cup oC
tea is very nice. Don’t you think so!”
Miss Hill—“I cannot quite agree with
you. A nice cup of tea may be nice, but
it takes a very nice oup of tea to be very
nice.”—Chicago Tribune.
Elderly Widow—“Well, there! I be¬
lieve I’ve made all the bequests I wish to
make, still I find $10,000 remaining.”
Mutual Friend—“Oh, that’s all right.
It will take all of that to prove you were
of sound mind when you made your
will.”—Pittsburgh Bulletin.
Anxious Wifa—“What is his ailment,
doctor!” Physician—“I pronounce it
paresis, madame." Boston Sick Man
(feebly)—“According to—recent au¬
thorities, you—don’t pronounce it—cor¬
rectly, The—accent—is on the—first
syllable.”—Chicago Tribune.
“What is the matter, Mrs. Golden?
You look like you had seen a ghost!"
“Ah* Mrs. Covenhaven, I was nearly
killed just now?" “How did it happen.
Mrs. Golden?" “Mrs. Fleury, whe
lived in number twinty-slven has been
run over by an electrie car. I live in
number twinty-six; suppose it had been
me!”—Pharmaceutical Era.
A Maine woman sent to the house of
her nearest neighbor and requested the
loan of a new pair of scissors. The
neighbor was using them, and Seat back
word accordingly. The weuld-be bor¬
rower was not to be rebuffed so easily,
and presently her little girl appeared the
second time to say: “Mother wants te
know if you will lead her a quarter te
buy a pair of scissors with?”—Lewiston
Journal.
f Why the Irish Like Green.
A well known writer for one of the
standard publications of the United
States in summing up the Irishman’s le¬
gends, tastes, fads, etc., has this to say
in regard to their preference for green
“The early Celts worshiped the dawn
and the sunrise. It is more than prob¬
able, therefore, that their liking for the
color green, which we see in their flags,
sashes, etc., arose from a mistake among
those who had lost a thorough knowl¬
edge of the Irish language. The sun,
in Celtic, is called by a word pro¬
nounced exactly like our word “green,"
and it is likely that the Irish fondues*
for that color arose throuh the striking
similarity of the two words. In the same
way when we talk about a greenhouse
we think they are called so because
plants are kept green in them during the
winter; yet it is far more probable that
that the word is derived from the old
Celtic word for sun, because greenhouses
are so built as to catch the rays and heart;
of the sun and store them for future use.
—St. Louis Republic.
Experiments indicate that the sugar
beet industry can be earned on profit-
ably in New Zealand.