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SPRING PLACE JIMPLECUTE.
J. O. IXjE?M3lTEX'T , SX 333c3L- and
V1H, X IV.
The united States sent abroad furs
to the value of $1,000,000 last year.
More than four-tilths of the murders
,n the United Htates last year were by j
men who had no regular occupation.
1
The New York Tribnne predicts that
Mr. Gladstone in retirement will con
tinue to be the most influential man in !
Great Britain.
Reports from United States Consuls
at various foreign ports show an in
creasing demand for American tlutir
»ml wheat abroad.
j
Having found that Indians . i
auo
French princes do not make good j
husbands the Washington Star sun¬
gests- that the heiresses of this country
might give the United States young
•nan iiis turn as an experiment.
The etymologist deals a blow to I
sentiment, notes the Chicago Herald, j
by showing that the mountain from
which the Kearsarge took her name
was originally known as Hezekiab j
Sargent’s Mountain, from which the !
speech of the natives evolved Kiab
barge, then Kearsarge,
Louisiana ieads every Southern State
in the matter of foreign immigration,
because, explains the Atlanta Consti¬
tution, her large foreign population
naturally attracts Europeans. Florida
and Texas stands next, because they
are the only two Southern States that
systematically advertise their i
sources.
Says „ the ,, New _, „ York v Advertiser, , , .. -
Some of the titles to sermons nuwa
days smack decidedly of the stage.
The Ine other other Sundav but day sermons sermons were
preached on the Human Heart,
“Satan Seeking Rest,” ‘‘A Rudder and
a Fire," Hank*” Fiftv Thousand'Which Oduld
Keel. 1 ’ ’ “Buried Alive” ’ “A
Tight Sword Grip.
The State of Maryland did a good
stroke of business during: thecurrciicv
famine. It is nsnallv difficult to get
hold of Maryland * bonds at reasonable '
•
rates, but bondholders were hard up
like everybody else then, and the
State officers made haste to invest a
considerable amount of sinking fund
cash in State bonds bought oil terms
unnstmlly favorable to the purchaser,
The women suffragists of England
are adopting a new method ofawakcu
interest . .. tlien* work. . LheyUav^ ,
mg m
ofiered a prize of ^25 for the best
short story dealing with the subject
of woman’s suffrage. One of the lead
mg magazines for , women will ... pubhs , , i
the stories deserving of such notice,
and the projectors of the scheme flatter
themselves that they have hit upon a
great plan for sowing the seed.
The. growing of sweet potatoes seems
to be a promising industry in Texas.
A recent bulletin issued from the ex
pernuental station gives some inter
esting comparisons oi the tour lead
ing crops in the State. The cotton
crop of Texas covers 4,520,310 acres,
and ie worth $69 * 439 ’ 476 ’ • the corn
.
crop coveis , ,-•> acies am 18
worth $28,429,125 ; the wheat crop
covers 412,337 acres and is worth $3,-
244 303- ' the sweet potato crop covers
oq -s,a_o qo« acics nn ami I is i worm ®i *1 ,ooj, .*,fi» 7 iu±. cl
According to the above statistics the
value of each crop per acre is: Got
vii'sh- ton $15.36; corn, $8.74; wheat,
"* ’ ’ swept nntatoes ’ «'>(} I 24 The
. .
cost oi growing au acre ot either 13 not
materially different.
The news that the Yellowstone Park
buffalo herd ha° been slaughtered ° bv J
hunters furnishes one more instance
of the vandalism that goes hand in
hand with our civilization, muses the
San Francisco Examiner sreat' The wanton
destruction of the buffalo herds
that thirty ago blacnened , the
years
Western plains was a shame to the
American people. Bat the pursuit
and slaughter of the last free remnant
of „ great , exploit that
a race was an
even the savages would not be guilty
of. The Indian, with all his barbar¬
ism, spares the animals at the time of
increase and returns to the stream the
fish that are too small to use. The
white man has all times for slaughter,
and what he cannot use he destroys.
The barbarism that fires the marvels
of beauty in architecture at the White
City is not an uncommon feature of
American life.
SPRING PLACE. MURRAY COUNTY, GA. SATURDAY, APRIL 21, 1894.
‘•BRAVE LOVE."
He’d nothing twit hi* violin,
I'd nothing hut my song.
But we were wed when skies were blue
Anti summer (lavs were long.
And tofien we rested by the hedge
The robins came and told
How they bad dared to woo ami win
When early spring was cold.
We sometimes supped on dewberries
Or slept among the hay.
But oft the larihers’ wives at eve
Came cut to hear us ptnv
The rare old tunes—the dear old tunes j
We could not starve for long,
While my men hud his violin
And 1 my sweet love song.
The world has aye gone well with us,
OM man. siiu-? yru worn otm ;
<>ur homeless wandering down the kufos —
It long ago wa« done.
But those who wait tor gold or gear,
For houses,ami for kiue.
Till youth's sweet spring grows brown
sear
And. love and beauty twine.
Will never know the joy of hearts
• That met without a fear,
When you had but your violin
And I a song, my dear.
—Mary Kyle Dallas.
ANCESTRY TO ORDER.
BY CECIL CHARLES.
________ ETER WOOD- _
JfaCp. 1,m ' u ’ s earliest
recollection was
^WK*. of au unpainted
8tor V an d a hall
‘
If / %\W »treet oot tage of on aside
a conn
'’■iff , try town
■■■ -■
“ tlj/'!'. , l. 1a , er ® Y°rh he
/J$' ''Wt'fe-Wc. ne( i his
s .’•’I mother and father
$ ffl , brother , that , died-until , e * J aby
he
, was twelve years old. His father
a grocery, also was superinteu
of t * ie ”* 18Slon knnday-school
held'every Sunday . afternoon in the
tmssioinchapd on the outskirts of the
town, where »« , the wiling-null em
ployes lived. > Peters father was a
deljcate-lookrp whiskers, and, generally |qui, with speaking, long side
a
pious time of voice. His mother was
more robust. She wore a black lace
bonnet with purple flowers, a
wiitv.r-fiill— i1 'fil*., then.At the ba»im,
nin 8’ ° r «“> ««ventuw- and taught a
of ,oyK 41,0 Ha ! ue
school—Peter, , , of course, .being m the
class. They were a good family;
thoroughly well respected in the town
, aQ d fairly prosperous. Groceries are
necessities; Mr. Woodburn provide..
lor a good class oi patrons. He owned
bis home and had a modest bank an^
count, lie believed in education and
Peter was kept close at his books.
Foter did not dislike his books; he
was fond of reading. He studied well
aiul 1>«K*«1 1‘igfl examinations. From
tbe public .schools he went into the
Academy aud got a taste of raathe*
unities and higlier classics. He had a
S™* uotio n ’ to °’ fo *' m'alem Ian
guages and 1 bis l , parents fostered it.
\ u 0 jq professor took him in hand and
found him an apt pupil. .When Peter
was seventeen he was thought so much
doling Men s Christian As
sociation that they made him librarian
at their library, to his infinite joy.
■ was ft well-selected library and
Peter read and read omnivoronsly.
When he was nineteen his father died,
p eter and las mother were alone in
tlic „ ■\vorlu. puc was an amiable, mid
fije-aged soul—very proud of her boy
and very content with him. He was
quiet, studious, industrious. He spent
evenings at home with her, and
rea f a ^ oud » great deal. Of course,
he frequently read fiction- -generally
English novels of higher class English
life. Often he would discuss what he
read with his mother. Once he laid
dowu his book with a sigh, and said
»lmost sadly ; “Oli, mother, how de
ii^litfnl ,t must be to live iu an obi,
old house, where you grandfather and
great-great-grandfather have lived be
| ore y° u * ** m U8t * )e delightful to
^ race a ' va 'y buck iii . your ancestry and
know who they all were. W e can t do
that in America. For instance, mother,
you don’t know much about your great
grandfather, do you, now?”
The good woman shook her head,
"Ao—that is, well, 1 don’t know about
ail of them. You see I had two grand
fathers—and—yes, I guess I must have
fi a( l four great-grandfathers. But
about as far as I can go is my grand
* at h el ’ on my mother’s side—that’s
your great-grandfatber; he lived down
to Middle Forks and was a cobbler,
But he was a real good man; read bis
Bible all the time he worked.”
Peter drew another deep sigh. “111
«° ° n fY i]i ng tbe ” e f <*«P te G "ow,
I think, he , Haul, lor ins motuer s
recollections were not to his taste,
Another time he tried to find out
something about his father’s ancestors,
But of these his mother conhl tell him
little, except that his father, Ijke
self, had been orphaned at a rather
early age. There was an uncle of his
father’s out in California—might be
very rich by this time, but she didn’t
know.
With another sigh Peter gave up
trying to investigate. He simply went
on conducting his father’s business
and laying aside s little money, and
“TELL THE TRUTH.”
patronizing the library where he was !
stil! librarian during certain hours of
the day—such as he could best spare j
from the grocery.
When he was lacking just a few days
of coming of age, he had the great j
misfortune to lose his mother. He
knew it was a great, an irreparable
puMortuue. He aits now alone in the ,
wot Id , his best friend was gone tor- j
ever. He felt a great deal of grief in j
j a quiet way. He shut up the little
j house and went to live at the hotel,
I He baldly knew wnat he meant iodo;
: it seemed to him that, nothing now
j D°')ud him to- Ms native town. At the
• hotel )• became acquainted with a
j gentleman' who was going out West
| and talked glowingly of chances oat
there for it young man. Peter became
interested and soon made up his mind
I to go along. Within a fortnight’s
j time home, he drawn had sold his his bank grocery balance and and his
Us& j could U tB'W. urt i jP * n such safe shape that
get at it at any moment.
Then he went West.
Sober, steady, industrious and well
informed, Peter Woodburn prospered
beyond his expectations. At thirty he
was very well off—very well off for a
young man. He had mining proper
ties and other property; a home in
Denver, a first-rate name. He had
everything man could desire--except,
of course, a wife. He had always
been too busy to fall in love, it
seemed. And his ideas of women
were very ’ excellent, chivalrous Ones,
derived from the excellent English
fiction he had read.
As he came into his thirty-first
year it began to dawn upon him that
a man should have a good wife and
settle down to family life sometime
or oth er.
With this idea in his head he came
East—it was June—and went to stay
at a delightful and fashionable water
j U g pi a c e on the Jersey coast. Eligible
men were not plenty that year, and
Mr. Woodburn—he always registered
fts Mr. P. D. Woodburn, for it seemed
to him that Peter was not exactly an
American name and that Pierce was
very easily much more musical and quite as
written-and he had heard hm
mother stay that his father’s mother’s
muidmr name was Delamater—Mr.
Woodburn was very much in demand.
He Was a tall, fine-looking fellow and
reported very rich.
The girl that most attracted him
Rn d there were very many fine "iris
there, was a Miss Ruth Brett, of Phila
delphia. s Shc'ifasitftl], IStlffilAr,
ful in dancing and swimming, charm
ingly well bred, according to Peter’s
notions—acquired from his novel read
iug—modest and dutiful, yet not situ
poring. Peter soon had fallen head
over ears in love with Ruth Brett,
There was no opposition. Mrs. Brett
ga ve cordial verbal consent and bless
Mr. Brett wrote his approval—
and Peter was in a sort of paradise.
And yet, underneath it all was a sort
0 f gnawing apprehension of the possi
bility of the Bretts at some time de
maudiri- the history of his ancestry.
Weretbey not Philadelphia folks? And
was that uot the terrible the crucial
test? Who was your grandfather?
Was it not strange they had not al
ready insisted on knowing ol
The more he thou'drt it the more
he lay awake nighU At length he
could no longer endure the strain. He
must be prepared for any emergency.
The idea came to him one night that
if one must make oneself, one might
as well make one’s ancestry. There
could be no great particular harm in
it, seeing that it was only to be used
as a matter of reference.
The next morn in c he took neucil
au d paper and prepared a book of
lineage. The only names ha knew,
Clinton and Morris on his mother’s
side, Woodburn and Delamater on his
father’s, were excellent. What he did
know be told no lies about; what he
,lifi not know might have been true as
easy as not—for all he knew. To be
S nre he purposely forgot to mention
the great-grandfather shoemaker who
read his Bible constantly while cob
tiling. His father, George Washburn,
he made descend gracefully from
Puritan gentlefolk through a gentle
manly line of New England farmers to
emerge a “merchant”—he did not say
“grocer.” His mother, also from
English stock, with just a slight drop
of Huguenot blood, to account for
preferring the name Pierre.
When, after several mornings’work,
Mr. Woodburn had completed this an
ce8t ry in pencil mark, he very natur
ally knew it pretty well by heart.
There were blank pages in his
family Bible—apart from those where
the entry of his parents’ marriage was
made and that of his birth and his
brother’s. Upon these pages he copied
carefully in pale, old-fashioned
the precious lineage he had labored so
hard to construct.
Days passed. At the proper time
the subject was brought up of family,
and Mr. Woodburn casually mentioned
his ancestral record in the old Bible,
and after some persuasion gave it to
his betrothed for perusal.
The effect was excellent. The'Bretts
regarded him «ith new veneration—
at least the parents did. As for Ruth,
! it seemed not to make eo much differ
«nce.
But some few days later something
j else transpired. A letter, forwarded from
Denver, came to Peter Woodburn with
: news that his father’s uncle, the one
; his mother bad once told him of, had
discovered that his grandnephew was
a tine, prosperous fellow. The old
ratio, Delamater, was coming East and
wanted to meet Peter. Of course Peter
was glad to hear from the old man
who, it seemed, was an old bachelor
and well off.
In due time old Mr. William Dela
mater came. East and put up at the
same seaside hotel and, of course, was
presented to the Bretts, Peter had
taken pains to meet, him in New York
huff see what he was like in advance,
The old man had passed muster very
creditably. He had lived in San Frau
cisco and had very good ways, dressed
well and was not ungrammatical by
any ' means
He took a great fancy to Ruth Brett
and they became great' friends. The
eid man was a capital story teller and
used to entertain Ruth’s mamma for
l ours down at the beach while Ruth
bathed or promenaded. One might
almost have supposed that. Peter would
take certain precautions in the matter
of a hint to his grand-uncle as to the
matter of “family” and’ Philadelphia
prejudices, But Peter omitted this.
And so the mischief was wrought.
They had gone down to the beach
one morning and found there was no
billing. It was very rough. Mrs.
Biett had ensconced herself in her
beach chair, old Mr. Delamater had
made himself comfortable at her side,
Ruth was loitering about, and Peter
Woodburn was some distance away
smoking and Peter looking out at the ocean.
Suddenly saw flying toward him
vjris fiancee,
“Pierre, Pierre, quick,” she whis¬
pered. “Quick, take your unele
away !” She was white and scared
looking.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Oh, I—I’ll tell you later. Only
take him away—quick !”
Peter strode over to the old man.
“Uncle, quick, come along; there’s
iue queerest looking thing down there
—down where those men are. I’d
hardly ask the ladies to go just yet—
there’s such a crowd. Quick, uncle.”
And he dragged him away.
“Uncle, for Heaven’s sake, what
were you talking about to Mrs.
Brett?”
talking about? Why nothing in
the world-let’s see. O, yes, she be
g»n to talk about her ancestors and
asked me if I wasn’t proud of
-the old Fnritan and the—the what’d
# be ca ^ ' exu - And blamed ■—*
"’fi-ktuhe’d got In her head.” a
s ) ie »yj*—well independent Americans you are one that of
would -prefer to be considered self
nunle. But your nephew, Mr. Wood
hurn, seemed to feel a genuine pride
in being well boi’n. I think it so ad
miiftble —bis keeping that old family
Bible and being able to go back gen¬
erations. I certainly do approve it
and I up and says, “Great Scott! You
don’t mean to say you put any credit
. ^ balderdash why, he just
111 la
, made that up to suit 1dm
» clf - Why, on his mother’s side, now,
fc ^ ie V weie j usfc ordinary shoemakers
an ^ grocers and farmers and—Just
^ en I iU lh began to tell me you
«' anted and - Good Gracious,
Peter, you re as pale as a sheet!
What's the matter?”
Nothing, uncle; . only , T I
guese
you’ve just ruined all the happiness ol
my life. Why couldn’t you keep your
mouth shut; that s all. Now tor pity s
sake, keep away from the Bretts.”
He He turned turned and anti strode strode awav away, hardlv hardly
knowing where he went until he saw
l.uth I’ntb enmiriD coining -tn to inWoerd intercept him lam.
One look into her eyes reassured
him ; they were shining almost mer
ril Y
“Oh, Pierre!” she cried, with a lit
tie laugh, “what an escape!”
“What do you mean, Ruth?”
“Why, your uncle was just giving
you away for all he was worth. I have to
laugh. He says yon made up all your
ancestry.”
forgive “And—Ruth—you—you couldn’t
me if 1 did such a thing?"
Woodburu’s voice shook.
“Bless your old heart, Pierre!
Listen; anyone around to hear? Why,
you know mamma’s father was just a
plain dry-goods-store man—in—in
Camden. But don’t tell, Only just
make your uncle hold his tongue."
“Then everything is all right?” The
color leaped back into Peter’s cheeks,
“Why, of course. Wasn’t mamma
cute? That’s the real Yankee word,
She pretended not to have heard any
thing he said. All she remarked was:
me!’ The old gentleman is al*
ways most garrulous when the wind 1
blows away from me, aud I can’t catch
anything he says. It’s quite too
had.’ ”
Peter Woodburn burst out laugh
Ruth laughed with him. “Let’s
go back and sit by mamma,” she said,
—New York Mercury.
Business Methods Necessary.
Business methods are needed on the
farm ; not the three-volume ledger sort,
perhaps, but something approaching a
system. The farmer must study the
needs of the market and the probable
changes ere his crop is harvested, He
must know when he can afford to sell
aud when it is proper to hold. He
cannot always.tell, for human judgment
is liable to err, but he will find tha
first efforts toward system so satisfac*
tory that he will not desire to change,
—Kansas City Times.
81-00 a Yoar ill Advance.
WORDS OK WISDOM.
Debt is not only an inconvenience,
i but a calamity.—Johnson.
The greatest difficulties lie where we
are not looking for them.—Goethe.
What is resignation? Placing God
between ns and our troubles.—Mine.
Swetshine.
The wrinkles of the heart are more
j sndnrable than those of the brow.—
William Delu/.y.
I He who does not bring up his son to
i some honest calling brings him up to
[ be a thief.—Jewish Proverb.
j To rejoice in the happiness of others,
i is make ?* to du
I onr °"'' 1 J l ,r " ‘ !e »•
\ s to Wa1;e 11 more thun our owu -~ J -
.
’ ’ ault!8 ’
By doing good with his money a man
stamps the image of God upon it and
makes it pass for the merchandise of
heav en. —-Rutle.dge.
They that deserve nothing, should
be thankful for anything. Bless God
for what you have, and trust Him for
what you want. — J. Mason.
The nerve that never relaxes, the
eye that never blanches, the thought
that nevei wonders—these are the
masters of victory.—Burke.
Keep your conduct abreast of your
conscience, and very soon your con¬
science will be illumined by the radi¬
ance of God,—\V. M. Taylor.
The great blessings of mankind are
within us and within our reach; but
we shut, our eyes, and, like people in
the dark, we fall foul upon the very
thing we search for, without finding
it. —Seneca.
The meek are not those who are
never at all angry, for such are insen¬
sible, but those who, feeling anger,
control it, and are angry only when
they ought to be. Meekness excludes
revenge, irritability, morbid sensitive¬
ness, but not self-defense, or a quiet
and steady maintenance of rights.—
Tlieophylact.
The common fluency of speech in
many men, and most women, is owing
to a scarcity of matter, and a scarcity
of words; for whoever is a master of
language, and liatha mind full of ideas,
will be apt, in speaking, to hesitate
upon the choice of both ; whereas com¬
mon speakers have only one set of
ideas . and one set of words to clothe
them in, and those are always ready at
the mouth. So people coine faster out
of. a ch.urch wliott it is almost empty,
™ au ’5““'* crowd , 18 . at the aoor .
-
vean ownt.
Robbery Strangely Traced.
“Here,” said a Lewiston detective,
“is a queer thing to convict a rutin of
burglary with,” and he held up the
head of a hammer which he had kept
in a drawer in his table. It was au
ordinary hammer head, only the strik¬
ing end of it was battered in a strange
and peculiar way. One side of it was
broken off'.
“A break was made in a Lewiston
home last winter, and besides a small
lot of jewelry a bundle of papers was
carried away. The papers were of a
private nature, aud such that the own¬
er desired as much to recover them as
he did the jewelry. The robber had
entered the house through the kitchen
andj w hile picking the lock, had set a
hammer down in a pan of molasses
candy that had been N„ put into the back
T °“ duimg the night. rllo4 , w When >
he took , up tlio hammer it had left the
imnrint impriiii of oi its its head ncau in in trie the camlv candy. 1 T
saved that pan and kept it on ice all
ltt . st summer in an uptown ice house.
Tim winter I was in a local junk store
and found this hammer in the pocket
of a coat in the pile of old clothes. I
knew it by the head of it to be the one
dropped into the candy pan.
<» * Who did you buy this of?’ I
asked,
“The dealer happened to remember
and I took the hammer head and went
to the man’s house. There I found
that lie had died during the summer,
but his widow recognized the hammer.
I asked if her husband had left any
old letters or papers, and she brought
out the lost bundle. She knew noth
ing about any jewelry, but her lius
band had left $300. I took the papers
to their owner and told him the thief
was dead.’’—Lewiston (Me.) Journal,
As to Bare Floors.
It is noticeable that floors left bare
for rugs are being painted iu much
lighter colors than formerly, the dark
walnut shade having heretofore been
the popular selection. They are fre
quently painted with yellow ochre
mixed with white, and the change is
desirable, first, because it is a change,
perhaps, and, again, because they are
more easily kept free from dust, or,
more correctly, dust is not in such
constant evidence. The lighter floors
are more cheery, too. Any one who
has been in a convent, where the oiled
and waxed floors are not painted, but
take on a slightly deeper tint than the
natural wood from the treatment of
oiling and waxing, must have re
marked the furnished look oi the
rooms without even a single ®rug to
break the shining floor, and for which
the lighter shade was undoubtedly re
sponsible.— Philadelphia Times.
Over 4,300,000 eases of canned to¬
matoes were prepared for the market
last season.
NO. T
THE LILAC
The lilac stood close to Elizabeth’s window,
All purple with bloom while the little maid
spun;
Her stint was a long one and she was
aweary,
And moaned that she never could get it
done.
But a wind set stirring the lilac blossoms,
And a wonderful sweetness came floating
In.
And Elizabeth felt, though she could not hava
said it.
That a friend had come to her, to help her
spin.
And alter that she kept on at her spinning,
Gay as a bird ; for the world had begun
To seem such a pleasant, good place for
working,
That she was amazed when her stint waa
done.
Vnd the pale-browed little New England
maiden,
Outside of her lessons, had learned that
day,
That the sweetness around us will sweeten
labor, #
If we will but let it have its way.
—Mary E. Wilkins, in St. Nioholas.
PITH AND POINT.
A reliable safety-coupler—The $ min*
'ster.—Lowell Courier.
Always a stern man—The fellow who
does the steering.—Florida Times
Union.
Jagson says take care of your pen¬
nies and your dollars will take care of
the bank cashier. —Elmira Gazette.
Oh, Though pause, ye planets, lu your eourse,
The universe mighty and remote;
must pause to see
The prinoe’s new dre9s-coar.
! j —Washington Star.
A good many men are like cheap
theatrical bills. A very little money
causes them to be stuck up.—Buffalo
Courier.
He used to be nn anarchist,
But now he dares not scoff:
Friends chloroformed him recently
And shaved his whiskers off.
—Washington Star.
Brown —“Did old Stingiman give
way when he heard the bad news?”
Jones—“Give nothing. He never gave
anything in his life.”—Detroit Free
Press.
Watts—“I thought you were on tha
inside of that little deal?” Potts—“I
was. That's how I happened to fall sa
hard when the bottom dropped out. a
—Indianapolis Journal. ’1
A man who is driving a horse car inj
Brooklyn claims to have been a throat
specialist in Vienna. He doesn’t look
as much down in the mouth as he used
to.—Philadelphia Ledger.
“Why is Footlight having all the
electric fans taken out of his ice cream
parlors?” “Oh, he’s hit on a better
plan than that for keeping the place
cool next summer.” “What is it?”’
“He’s going to have Boston girls for
waiters.”—Chicago Inter-Ocean. <
Public Library Official (tearing up
card) — “What chump let you have a
book on that card? It expired a month
ago.” Near-sighted Party—“He was
a souv-looking, light-eomplexioned
young squirt, with curly hair aud—
why, it was you.”—Chicago Tribune.
Mrs. Spatts (nee Gotrox) —“You’rea :
perfect brute ! I actually believe you
marrle married « me simnlv simply because Because of oi my mv
mon ey.” Mr. Spatts— “Well, my dear,
you’d ' * hardlv evoect a a man mau to t0 taka tftl£a
such , an important step without soma
reason “ “l <1 P tS Z S S Co’s Bulletin I
I have changed , my mind
“ \ 1 Y! U «°ir°
M«- n C a ide > Blanche , s dinner r ’ Phyllis
“ But d ° rememBer > that
her grandfather was a barber ? Lydia
7“ 0h ves! I hear she is going
-
to give away diamond hat pins for
favors. ”—Brooklyn Life.
“What does cleave mean, father?’ 1
said the small boy, who had been puz¬
zling over the word for some time.
“It means to unite.” “Does John
unite wood when he cleaves it?” “H’m,
well, it means to separate.” “Well,
father, does a man separate from his
wife when he cleaves to her?” “H’m,
h’m. Don’t ask me so many foolish
questions. ” Worthington’s Magaziv.e.
—
Keep Out the Croaker.
Men or women who have always &
tale to tell of ‘ ‘how he suffered that)
way himself” should be kept out of
patient’s room. Their sympathy
"HI do harm every time. In the siok
chamber, if the patient can see com
pauy at all, there shonld be only
bright, cheery talk, and the creature
"’dh “symptoms” can talk a man into
having any and every disease on earth
in less than half an hour. Asickmaa
should be led to forget his ills, and not
t0 rehearse them or compare notes,—
Chicago Journal,
Egg Within an Egg.
, ‘I’ve got something new for you
£ ms *‘ me ’ sare > S!i ^ a reputabla
Spring . street physician . to a reporter.,
It rs right here iu this box reposing
011 a bed e °Hon. It was done by
laying of a hen my hen, too.”
Lifting the lid of the box he dis¬
closed a wonder in the shape of a fully
developed hen egg inside of a soft
shelled egg. The outer shell was very
soft, nearly the size of a duek egg.—
Los Angeles (Cal.) Express.