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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.