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I indstinct print | •‘' ■ ■. •' jVfPv,i*VA • ',£• •■’• ■• -’• -■ *' ^- I 'n t lyi, V. .'.•;4* ■'. * . : \ M •. ••" < •■'*. ALBANY WEEKLY HERALD: SATURDAY JULY 30, i8qa, NATURE VERSUS ART. I know this hyair rhytnn ain't purfect, But rhyme he ilarned-’tiH theanngl The bird docan’t measure Its music Thai wnrhlua ihe whole day long. Nor them stars up thar in squares don’t shine, v Nor them spring green trees don’t grow A-followin one t ho other . Like a city tenement row! The flowers o’ fluids ore big an small. An they don’t grow In circles, dear; They may do so In them hothouse beds. But I’m writino’ Nature here, 4iin’t got much use for dogmas, Creeds, nor schools, nor things, ily church Is iho plain—It’s dome tho sky. An my preacher th’ bird that sings. I see a Somethin In overy cloud. An twig, an brook, an flower; An I reckon I know what’s right an wrong Bo the workiu o’ thot thar Power Thet colors tho leaves an sends tho rain. The cyclone an tho sun. An somethin Mtklu hero tolls mo Thet I’m part o’ thet great big Oncl .No! 1 ain’t got much use for party tunes, Sich as writers rbytno down hero, But my soul Jlst loves thot music Thet thrills from sphere to sphere! •> 1 reckon your oars can’t hear it, For it pulsates in your soul, .But it takes a isn't to feel it, Coz his heart's part o' tho Whole! Now some don't like Walt Whitman— His mention makes ’em rile, Jlst coz ho dared to tell tho troth. Without carin much for style. He pintuted lhe world Jist ns it was— Truth an facts an lles- An he didn't a-try to tlx things up To suit the critics’ eyes. But ain’t tho mud fleck jist as real Ez tho potnl soft an fine? An ain't tho body ez roal, too, Thet holds this soul o’ mine? Thet's tho reason 1 love Walt Whitman, Jlst coz ho saw the wholo— The beauty o' outward symbols Ez well as tho inward soul. He loved the man with toll browned hands, He hadn't much uso fer u king: He wuv. a democrat thet loved mankind, An thet’s what made him sing. Ho wrote Jlst Ukonld Natur’ is, Without muchdudish grace, Fer he modeled his stylo on Nutur’s Bough an wild, sweet face. Liko him I’ll writo ozl seo tit. An Jhjt follor my own soul’s light, Then your gold penned critters may go to grass, Coz 1 know i’mdoln what’s right! —Fitzgerald Murphy in Tacoma (Wash.) Led* ger. BOUM-BOUM. The child was 'lying stretched out in his little white bed, and his eyes, grown large through fever, looked straight before him, always with the strange fixity of the sick who al ready perceive whut the living do not see. The mother at the foot of the hod. torn by suffering and wringing hor hands to keep herself from crying, anxiously followed the progress of the disease on the poor emaciated face of the little being. The father, an honest workman, kept back the tears which burned his eyelids. The day broke clear and mild, a beautiful morning in June, and light ed up the naiTow room in the street of the AboBsess where little Francois, the child of Jacques and Madeleine Legrand, lay dying. He was seven years old and was very fair, very rosy and so lively. Not three weeks ago he was as gay as a sparrow; hut a fever had seized him and they had brought him home one evening from the public school with his head heavy and his hands very hot. From that time he had been here in this bed, and sometimes in his delirium when he looked at his well blacked shoes, which his mother had placed in a corner on a board, he said: “You can throw them away now, little Francois' shoes I Little BVaneois will not put them on any morel Lit tie Francois will not goto school any more—never, never I” Then the father cried out and said. “Wilt thou bo still?" And the moth er, very pale, buried her blond head in his pillow, bo that little Francois could not hear her weep. This night the child had not been delirious, but for the two days past the doctor had been uneasy over an odd sort of prostration, which re sembled abandon; it was as if at seven years the sick one already felt the weariness of life. He was tired, silent, sad and tossed his little head about on the bolster. He hod no longer a smile on his poor thin lips, and with haggard eye he sought, see ing they knew not what, something there beyond, very far off. “In heaven! Perhaps 1" thought Madeleine, trembling. When they wished him to take some medicine, some sirup or a little soup he refused. He refused every thing. “Dost thou wish anything, Fran cois?” “No, I wish nothingf “We must draw him out of this," the doctor said. “This torpor fright ens me. You ore the father and mother; you know your child well. Seek for something to reanimate this little body; recall to earth this spirit which runs after the clouds 1” Then he went away. “Seek!” Yes, without doubt they knew him ■well, their Francois, these worthy people. They knew how it amused him, the little one, to plunder the hedges on Sunday and to come hack to Paris on his father’s shoulders laden with hawthorn. Jacques Le grand had bought some images, some gilded soldiers and some Chi nese shadows for Francois. He cut them out, put them on the child’s bed and. made them dance before the bewildered eyes of the little one, and with a desire to weep himself he tried to make him laugh. “Dost thou see; it is the broken bridge. Tire, tire, tire! And this is the general! Thou rememberest we saw one, a general, once in the Bois de Boulogne? If thou takest the medicine well I will buy thee a real one with a cloth tunic and gold epau lets. Dost thou wish for him, the general, say?” “No,” replied the child, with the dry voice which fever gives. “Dost thou wish a pistol, some marbles—a crossbow?” “No,” repeated the little • voice, clearly and almost cruelly. And to all that they said to him, to all thq jumping jacks, to all the bal loons that they promised him, the little voice—while tho parents looked at each other in despair—responded: “No.” “No.” “No!” “But what dost thou wish, my Francois?" asked tho mother. “Let us see; there is certainly something thou wouldst like to have. Tell it, tell it me! to mo, thy mother!." And slio laid her cheek on tho pillow of the sick boy and wliispored this soft ly in his ear as if it was a secret. Then the child, with an odd accent, straightening himself up in his bed nnd stretching out his hand eagerly toward some invisible thing, replied suddenly in an ardent tone, at the same time supplicating and impera tive: "I want Boum-Boum!" Boum-Boum! Poor Madeleine throw a frightened look toward her husband. What did tho little one Bay? Was it the de lirium, tho frightful delirium, which had come back again? Boum-Boum I She did not know what that meant, and she was afraid of these singular words which the child repeated with a sickly persistence, os if, not having Jared until now to formulato his dream, he grasped the present time with inviueiblo obstinacy. 'Yes, Boum-Boum! Boum-Boum! I want Boum-Boum I" Tho mother had seized Jacques' hand aud jjpoke vory low, as if de mented. “What does that mean, Jacques! He is lost!” But tho father had on his rough, workingman’s face a smllo almost happy, hut astonished, too; tho smile of a condemned man who foresees a possibility of liberty. Boum-Boum I Ho romembored well the moaning of Easter Monday when he had taken Francois to the circus. He had still in his ears the child's outbursts of joy, the happy laugh of tho amused boy, when the clown, the beautiful clown all spangled with gold and with a great gilded butter fly sparkling, many colored, on tho back of his black costume, skipped across the track, gave the trip to u rider or held himBelf motionless und stiff on the sand, his head down and his foot in the air. Or again he tossed up to the chandelier some soft, felt hats which he caught adroitly on his head, where they formed, one by one, a pyramid; and at each jest, like a refrain brightening up his in telligent and droll face, be uttered the same cry, repeated the same word, accompanied now and then by a burst from the orchestra, Bourn Bourn! Boum-Boum! and each time that it rang out, Boum-Boum, the nudi once burst out into hurrahs and the little one joiued in with his hearty little laugh. Boum-Boum! It was this Boum-Boum, it was the clown of the circus, it was this favorite of a large part of the city that little Fran cois wished to see and to have and whom he could not have and could not Bee, since he was lying here with out strength in his white bed. In the evening Jacques Legrand brought the child a jointed clown, all stitched with spangles, which he had bought in a passageway and which was very expensive. It was tho price of four of his working days! But he would have given twenty, thirty, he would have given the price of a year’s labor to bring back a smile to the pale lips of the sick child. The child looked at the plaything a moment as it glistened on the white cover of the bed, then said sadly: “It is not Boum-Boum! I want to see Boum-Boum!" Ah! if Jacques could have wrapped him up in his blankots, could have carried him to the circus, could have shown him the clown dancing under the lighted chandelier and have said to him, Look! He did better, Jacques, he went to the circus, demanded the address of the clown, and timidly, his legs shaking with fear,' he climbed, one by one, tho steps which led to the apartment of the artist at Montmartre. It was very bold this that Jacques was going to do. But after all the comedians go to sing and recito their monologues in draw ing rooms, at the houses of the great lords. Perhaps the clown—oh, if ho only would—would consent to come and say goodby to Francois. No matter, bow would they receive him, Jacques Legrand here at Bourn- Bourn’s house? He was no longer Boum-Boum 1 He was M. Moreno, and. in the ar tistic dwelling, the cooks, tne en gravings, the elegance was like a choice decoration around the charm ing man who received Jacques in his office like that of a doctor. Jacques looked, but did not recog nize the clown, and turned and twist ed his felt hat between his fingers. The other waited. Then the father excused himself. “It was astonish ing what he came there to ask; it could not ho pardon, excuse. But, in short, it was concerning the little one. A nice little one, monsieur. And so intelligent 1 Always the first at school,except in arithmetic, which he did not understand. A dreamer, this little one, do you see? Yes, a dreamer. And the proof, wait, the proof.” Jacques now hesitated, stammered; but he gathered up his courage aud said brusquely: "The proof is that he wishes to see you, thot he thinks only of you, and that you are there before him like a star which he would like to have and that he looks” When he had finished, the father was deadly pale, and he had great drops on his forehead. He dared not look at tho clown who remained with his eyes fixed-on the workman. And wliat was I10 going to say, this Boum-Boum? Was he going to dis miss him, take him for a fool aud put him out the door? “You livo?” “Oh, vory near! Street of the Abessess.” “Cornel” said the other. “Your boy wonts to seo Boum-Boum? Ah, well, ho is going to see Boum-Boum.” AN ESOTERIC CLIMAX, WHILE 8PIKETOWN COUNTED SIXTY HOKO PREPARED IT. When the door opened and showed the clown, Jacques Legrand cried out joyfully to his son: “Francois, he happy, child! See. hore he is, Boum-Boum I” A look of great joy came over tho child's face. Ho raised himself on his mother's arm and turned his head toward the two men who ap proached, questioning, for a mo ment, who it was by the side of his father—this gentleman in an over coat, whose good, pleasant face he did not know. When IJiey said to him, “it is Boum-Boum 1" he slowly fell back on the pillow and remained there, his eyes fixed, his beautiful large, bluo eyes which looked beyond the walls of the little room and were always Booking the spangles and the butter fly of Boum-Boum, liko a lover who pursues liis dream. “No,” replied tho child with a voice which was no longer dry, but full of despair, “no, it is not Boum-Boum.” The clown, standing near tho little bed, threw upon the child an earnest look, very grave, but of an inexpress ible sweetness. He shook his head, looked at the anxious father, the grief stricken mother, and said, smiling, “He is right, this is not Boum-Boum I" and then he went out. “I cannot see him, I will never see Boum-Boum any more I” repeated the child whose little voice spoke to the angels. “Boum-Boum is perhaps there, there, where little Francois will Boon go." And suddenly—it was only half an hour since the clown had disappeared —the door opened quickly and in ills black, spangled clothes, his yellow cap on his head, the gilded butterfly on his breast and on his book, with a smile as big as the mouth of a money box and a powdered face, Bourn Bourn, ihe true Boum-Boum, the Boum-Boum Of the circus, the Boum- Boum of the popular neighborhood, the Boum-Boum of little Francois— Boum-Boum appeared. Lying on his little white bed the child clapped his thin little hands, laughing, crying, happy, saved, with a joy of life in his eyes, and cried “bravo” with his seven-year gayoty which all at once kindled up like a match. “Boum-Boum 1 It is he, it is he, this time! Here is Boum-Boum I Long live Boum-Boum! Good day Boum-Boum.” And when the doctor came back he found seated by little Francois' bedside a clown with a pale face who made the little one laugh again and again, and who said to the child while he was stirring a piece of sugar into a cup of medicine: “Thou knowest if thou dost not drink, little Francois, Boum-Boum will not come back any more." So the child drank. “Is it not good?" “Very good! Thanks, Bourn Bourn!” “Doctor," said the clown to the doctor, “do not he jealous. It seems to me that my grimaces will do him as much good ns your prescriptions 1" The father and mother wept, hut this time from joy. Until little Francois was on his feet again a carriage stopped every day before the dwelling of a work man in the street of the Abessess, at Montmartre, and a man got out with a gay powdered face, enveloped in an overcoat with the collar turned back, and underneath it one could see a clown’s costume. “What do I owe you, monsieur?” said Jacques at last to the master clown when the child took his first, walk, “tor now I owe you some thing.” The clown stretched out his two soft, herculean hands to the parents. ■ “A shako of the hand!" said he. Then placing two great kisses on the once more rosy cheeks of the child: “And,” laughing, “permission to put on my visiting card: I “BOUM-BOUM, : : Acrobatic Doctor and Physician in : : Ordinary to Little Francois.’’ : —Translated from the French of Jules Claretie for Yankee Blade by Mary Stuart Symonds. A General Falling. It is rather unpleasant to hear a public speaker remark, “My friends —nr—I wish to say a few words— ur—on tliiR occasion—ur.” But then it should he remembered that to ur is human.—Boston Transcript A Profetiftor «f the Art of Legerdemain Knllghteiui a Whole Town, at Fifty CoutM a Head, on the Difficult aud Ex* iMpurittlng Subject of Cooking. Nobody hud ever heard of tho cole- Cratod Hoko Effendi, but the public curiosity to see him was no less keen on that aocouut. In the little western Illi nois town on which he had alighted like a flawing meteor tho visit of n professor of magio was an event. All that was known of him was that he had made his appearance about tho time tho stage coach from Shucksvillo camo in, nnd was supposed to have traveled In that conveyance: that ho had procured tho printing of several hundred small hills at tho office of Tho Blizzard, promising to pay for them the next day. The evening came. The price of nd- mission to tho entortninment was fifty cents for adults, children half price. The celebrated Hoko Effendi was his own doorkeeper, nnd the people of Spike •' town turned out in, large numbers There were no deadheads except tlm editor of The Blizzard and the dignilieil citizen who wore dyed whiskers and a plug hat and unuonneed himself at the door ns the mayor. When the uudience began to show tm- pntienco by the customary stamping and whistling tho world renowned master of Egyptian magio accepted the proffered servicos of a leading citizen as door keeper, and wont back to the’other end of tho hull, disappearing behind tho cur tain that hid tho stage from view. in a few moments ho reappearod in front of it and made a pleasing little speech, requesting close attention to the performances, as many of them wero of a nature bordering on the supernatural, and promising an entertainment such us had never been seen in Spiketown be fore and never would ugain. After performing some cnrlons tricks with playing cards lie announced that tho first really difficult feat of the even ing would now he shown—that of baking a cake without a pan of any kind. “The ladies in the audience," he said, when they bake cokes are compelled to use bnttor, eggs, flour, sugar, fla voring extract, icing, etc., and put the dough in a hot oven. 1 do nothing of the kind. By the simple manlpulatior of flour, sirup and a hat I can produce a cake in five minutes that no lady in this honse can equal. 1 will make a cake that a committee, to be selected from the ladies present, will pronounce the best they ever tasted, 1 will do tills or forfeit $100, Will some kind gentle man present oblige me with the loan of a high silk hat? Will you kindly lend it to me? I will take excellent care of it and return it in a few minutes." The mayor demurred. “Your hat will not be injured in tho least, sir,” the magioian assured him, “I will return it to you without spot, blemish or stain. I have performed tills feat thousands of times without the slightest injury to the hat.” The mayor of Spiketown, thus ap pealed to, relented and handed over his cherished tile. Then the magioian produced a pan of flour, which was passed through the audience and unanimously declared to be genuine. He poured it into the hat. Then a quart measure half filled with Hew Orleans molasses was produced and handed around in like manner, pro nounced the pure, unadulterated stuff, and returned to him. He poured this into the hat likewise and stirred the mixture with a long lead pencil. The mayor involuntarily gasped and half rose in his seat, but the wizard again as sured him, with a wave of the hand, “Your hat will not be injured in the least, my dear sir," and he proceeded with the performance. “Now, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, we will witness the finale, the denoo- mong, as it were, of this unparalleled feat of illusion. 1 can bake the cake just as well on a piece of ice as on a rtove; but as there happens to be a good fire in this stove near the stage 1 will bake it on top of that. Again, I assure yon, Mr. Mayor, that yonr hat will not suffer the slightest injury.” Stepping briskly down, be placed the hat on the stove. “Now, good people,” ho said, “keep yonr eye on that hat till you can Count sixty. I will retire and preparo the esoterio climax.” Ho mounted the stage and stepped be hind tho curtain. In a moment a smoke went up from the hat on the stove, and the odor of something scorching filled the air. The mayor of Spiketown jumped from his seat, and with one bound cleared tlie distance that lay between Mm and tlie stove. He lifted his precious hat, Tho bottom, or rather tlio top, foil out. Tho sizzing batter spread out over the stove. It hissed aud sputtered and flew. And even as the mayor held up the hideous ruin of his once glorious bat and looked through it some of tho yel lowish mixture trickled on his vest and ran in sad, discouraged, bilious looking streams down his trousers. His honor spoke a few words briefly, but emphatically—through his hat—and broke for the stage, followed by several of the leading citizens of Spiketown. Behind the curtain were several empty barrels and boxes. And tlie back window was up. Somewhere in this wide, wide world the wizard of the Orient is still wander ing about, happily unaware doubtless that a standing reward of fifty dollars and no questions asked is offered by the mayor of Spiketown, Ills., for informa tion that will lead to the arrest and cou- viction for the crimes of grand larceny, malicions injury and obtaining money under false pretenses, of one Hoko Ef- endi, master of Egyptian magio and so called eighth wonder of the world. Csaualtlaa for 01* Months. Since Jan, 1 there have been four de structive windstorms, killing nearly 100 persons, viz., April 1, Missouri and Kan sas, 7#; May 16, Texas, IS; May 27, Wel lington, Kail., 56; Jnne 16, southern Minnesota, 50. In the same period there have been four great floods, viz., April 11, Tomblgbeo river, 230; May 18, Sioux City, In., 85; May 20, lower Mississippi, 80; Juno 5, tiro and flood, Oil Creek, Pa., 106. There ulso have been four mining disasters, viz., Jan. 7, McAllister, I. T., 05; April 20, Minersvillo, Pn„ 12; May 10, Roslyn, Wnsli., 41; May 14, Butte, Mon., 11. Three fives have been un usually disastrous to life, viz., Jan. 21, Indianapolis Surgical institute, 10; Feb. 7, Hotel Royal, Now York, 80; April 28, theater, Philadelphia, 12. Besides these there were on March 21 an explosion at Jordan, Mich., by which 10 lives were lost; June 10, the explo sion ut tho Mnre Island nnvy yard, which killod 18, nnd June 15, tho fall of tlio bridge over Licking river, by which 83 lives wero sacrificed. Those are the principal disasters of the year thus far, and they involvo an aggregate of 000 lives. Adding to this total the sum of losses by minor accidents we have the following sad and unusual record: By lire, 870; by drowning, 1,804; by explosions, 818; by falling struc tures of various kinds, 207; by mine dis asters, 808; by windstorms, 840, and by lightning, 120. Grand total, 8,588. The total loss of life liy these oauses during tho whole of last year—and 1881 was one of tlio most destructive years on record—was 5,702.—Chicago Tribune. A Nlna-ycat-oIU Hero. In a ward of ono of the city hospitals lies a little boy who Is slowly recovering from a surgical operation. He is on'y nine years old. A wagon wheel rolled ovor him nbout three weeks ago, and thou the surgeons amputated one little log. But the ownor is a brave chap and patient, and liis bravery lias won for him a passport Into tlie heart of every attendant who has seen him. He has been very greatly interested in the in valid's shoe the good nurse has beon knitting for him out of bright worsted. Sho finished the shoe last wank, aud ho asked to keep it by liis pillow wiiero lie could see It. He gazed at the bright lilt of footgear with Infinite satisfaction, and then asked: “When are yob going to make the othor one?” Tlio other one, dear? What other one?" He glanced down at. the ono foot with, out n mate. Yes—I—know. 1—don’t—need—hnt —just—only—one, do I?” Then there came a half smothered sob, the brave little face tnrned toward the wall and not oven the nurse saw the big round tear that rolled down to the pillow. The sorrow of a man had come to the nine-year-old boy.—New York Recorder, _________ CountiirfaM Firm Aflimt, Business men in East Baltimore are agitated over counterfeit five “dollar notes. Nearly every day one or more of these notes turn up at the bank count ers. The notes are imitations of treas ury notes of the series of 1880. The pa- peris of a poor quality and lighter in color than the genuine note. E _ noticeable is the poor engraving. It seems to be the work of an amateur or of a very nervous person. The piotnre ef Jackson looks like the Impression of a wood eut. But one feature ie any where near perfection, and that is the signatures of Registrar Roseorana and Treasurer Huston. These are excel lently counterfeited and would baffle any one hnt an expert. Bank officials think a number of these counterfeits Have been put into circulation within the past week or two in that section of the city, and but few have yet gotten out of that vicinity,—Baltimore Amer ican. ' A Dad Yaw for Ballroad lliilMIng. From the retnrns now received at thia office, collected with unusual care and thoroughness, we find that during the six months from Jan. 1 to July 1 there have been laid in the United States 1,866 mfies of new main track on 115 lines In thirty-five of the states and territories. Last year at this time we fonnd that 1,728 miles of track had been laid, so that it would appear that there has thus far been a falling off of over 26 per cent, compared with the same period of 1881. But a review of the work-in progress throughout the coun try does not warrant the belief that the falling off for the entire yoar will be In any such proportion. Last year showed the smallest aggregate of track laying, 4,200 miles, that has been reported in this country since 1885.—Chicago Rail, way Age. Idols Not Leu Thun OOO Yours Old. It is reported from Santa Fe, N. M. that in excavating some Aztec rains near Chaco canyon Governor Prince has unoarthed twonty stone idols of a differ ent type from any boforo discovered. They are ciroular in shape, forming disks varying from six to fifteen inches in diameter, tlie upper half containing a deeply carved face and the lower half rudimentary arms in rolief. Tho idols are believed to he at least 680 years old, Salmon X-noker. Discouraged. There is up improvement in the 'sal mon outlook. Packers generally are in clined to take a gloomy view of the situ ation, and are of opinion that the pack will be 60,000 to 75,000 cases short of that of last year. Some of the packers have ceased taking orders for fish, hav ing already disposed of as many caseB as they are likely to put up unless the fish ing takes a change for the better.—Port land Oregonian, t Fire from Bird.' Nests. On taking off the roof of a honse near Cambridge, which had been on fire, it was fonnd that a quantity of straw had been carried by birds betwoen the root and the ceiling, and tMs had been ig nited from a hole in tho chimney. Alto gether the birds had taken up three or four sacks of rubbish,—Boston Letter, ■ ■ ... '■■■■ T«« Enalnra In Ihe Col bn. Vsird .Mulsh 1 There happened quite an ! the yard of the Colnmbns ro'ad about 8 o’clock Sunday and had the speed of one of tlie I that suffered from the collision greater, several lives might have lost, At 8 o’clock n special train, be a coach full of excursionists was s uled to leave for Columbnx. Tlie I stooi) on a stile track just South of Sam depot, nnd shortly before li time, bnckeil down on the main ! the tioket office, nenr the new uni depot. Tim engineer supposed that switoli wns Hot, ns soon ns tlie tr passed, so that the main line was open. When leaving time arriv therefore he pulled out for Colombo ami as the track is straight an level, had attained a good rite of sp when the swltoh-trnok was reach Almost before he had time to sieze l reverse lever, the engine was on th switch track und had crashed Into Inrge freight engine that was standi there. There was no ono on this glue, but the passengers firenmii a engineer of the outgoing train terribly shaken up, but fortunately seriously hurt. Both locomotives were broken up front, nnd will have to be sent shop for repairs, at least one of t' As the Columbus Southern road lie no other engine In the yard at tl time, the Central took the eoaoli their line and carried the pnssen B through. It Is not known who blnine for'the nocldent. ! A Fair lixchnngr. From tlio XnritivUio Amerloan. The following nmustng story c from Weakly county, nnd is vo for by a prominent gentleman, oertnin small town In the county tioned, the Alliance is in the habt meeting In tho same hall Knights of PythlsB. One nij long ago, a member of I lie A saw a light In the hall, and, sup his order was in session, samite and ^nocked on the door, wns opened-nm! nil Inquiring peared. “I plough, I hoe, I spade,” so remarked the Alllnnceinnn. “The devil you do I” remark man on the Inside, closing l lie The Allinnco innn told the Borne of his fellows. They alarmed. “Why, you linvu given our pass-word!” they exclaim “Yes,” complacently respon hero of tlie story, “but I fo theirs,” j Till! Xl’ISDOPAI. 4IIIIT Which la Xoou to He Hulll hi Those Interested In the bulli the Kplsoopnl church at DeWi the project well under way n work will be commenced at early date, Mrs. G. M. Bacon, of tlie work in olmrgc, and over $800 havo boen raised tlon nnd otherwise. Many members of that church Albany have contributed II there are a great many who yet been seen, and tlio aid whi will contribute, will help the good work. Tho materlnl for the oonstru tlie ohuroli hns nlready been It will arrive in a fetv days, a will then he begun at oticc. DoWitt Is one of the most prising of the small towns State, and It redounds freatly credit of its good people they have been able, by l tence and energy, to construct of worship. ' Here’s n Coe it One. Here’s a story that a lawyer other day: An Indian paid a lie money, nnd then stood ns if for something. “Whntare you waiting foi the lawyer. “Receipt,” said the Indian, ceipt," said the Inwyer, “a What do you know about a Can you understand the nature receipt? Tell me the nature and I will give It to you." “S’pose mabe me die; me go to ine find the gate locked; me see Peter; lie say, ‘Jim, what you Me say ‘Want to get in.’ ‘You that money?’ ‘Wliat me do, I receipt; hab to hunt all over b find you.” He got hisreoelpt.—Exchange. We have seen peaches and this season; but the most deli all that we have'had the prl sampling camo from the Mr. nnd Mrs. C. W. Tift, ( They were not only beauti hold, but delicious to the taste. A move Is being made on t'< the Southern Passenger • to abolish second-class all lines offer suoh present, and thereby ( borers and hnrd-wor'-* when necessary. 1 these second-class ra‘ have a tendenoy to the bulk i