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"JEST MAKE YER CRUEL THINNER."
In these ’ere times it takes a lot to satisfy a fellow—
Ebiloserphy to harden him, some poetry to mellow.
Without incouragement and seeh he cannot be contented,
Ef living in his own good house er jest in one that’s rented.
The blues will come as unbeknown as persons out a-bikin’,
An’ all yer ease and socialness they seem—well, gone a-strikin’.
An’ so it's well to call to mind what Franklin said at dinner
When pressed for higher board one day—“Jest make yer gruel thinner!’
It show’d a streak that’s well to have—the streak, determination,
To hump along the best yer can, though facing of starvation.
Ef honesty requires less grub, why, make the grub bill shorter;
Ef coarse clothes keep yer credit up, then wear ’em, as yer orter.
Per bigger folks than us have done some close econermistn’.
An’ proved it did not keep them down who had a will fer risin’,
Ho now an’ then let’s call to mind what Franklin said at dinner,
In answer to his hostess’ greed—“Jest make yer gruel thinner!”
—Will T. Hale, in Nashville American.
X
H Plaintiff and d)o<p
Defendant. 0 ) 0 ,
D)o<6
x
By HELEN FORREST GRAVES. %
d)o(h
HY they called it
“The Tower”
AV’ould have puz¬
zled an arckmol
gist. For it was
not a toAver, never
had been a tower,
IV and in all proba¬
•*«*( bility never had
been intended for
a toAver.
It was a cottage, one-storied, strag¬
gling and comfortable, Avith a semi¬
circular parlor in the front, Avhick,
topped off Avitli a comical imitation of
wooden battlements, Avas half covered
Avith waring sprays of Avoodbine and
clinging sheets of ivy.
But “The Tower” it had ahvays been
entitled, and after that lawsuit came
up it acquired a sort of celebrity under
the old, familiar name.
“Yes,” said Miss Isidora Ives,
“The Tower is mine still, and I in¬
tend to keep it. Everything else they
have taken aAvay from me, because
some loggerheaded old ancestor of
mine signed his name to a deed ‘John
B. Robinson’ instead of ‘JohuC. Rob¬
inson.’ As if one letter of the alpha¬
bet could make any difference! I’ve
no patience Avitli people! The majesty
of the law, indeed! Pshaw!”
“But if the rest of the property be¬
longs to your Cousin Robinson, so
does The Tower,” suggested Mrs. Mil
roy.
“Ican’t help that,” said Miss Isi¬
dora. “Here I am aud bore I mean
to stay, law or no Uav.”
Mrs. Milroy opened her weak eyes.
Feeble as a kitten herself, she could
scarcely comprehend such valiant res¬
olution in another.
“But if they come here Avitli the
sheriff, and u posse comitates, aud a
writ of habeas corpus?” she faltered.
“Then,” said Miss Isidora, “they’ll
have to clear out again. Common
sense is common sense. The house
is mine, and I mean to keep it. I’ve
got new bolts and bars to all the doors,
and I keep a kettle of boiling Avater on
the stove night aud day, and my
friend, laAv Mr. Jeffre’ys, who is a clerk in
a office, has given me the hint never
to let in a man with a bag.”
“Why not?” breathlessly questioned
Mrs. Milroy.
“Don’t yon see?” said Miss Isidora,
Rnapishly. “Because it will be full of
Ieav papers. Writs and summonses,
and all that sort of thing.”
“Oh!” said Mrs. Milroy.
Thus, acting upon the hint, Miss
Isidora turned the plumber’s man
away, and resolutely declined to have
anything to say to the book-agent and
the tract-distributor. She considered
herself in a state of siege, took her
morning’s milk into the window Avitli
a tin pail and a chain, communicated
with the trades’-people from behind
tAvo square iuckes of doorway, and
took everybody she did not knoAv for
an enemy. The Tower Avas hers, and
The ToAver she meant to keep. And
Rebecca, her little maid, Avas stricken
with breathless admiration for her
warlike qualities.
“But, of course, ma’am,” said Re¬
becca, “nobody can stand against the
Iuav. ”
“I’ll see whether they can or net!”
said Miss Isidora Ives. “Be sure you
keep the kettles well filled, Rebecca,
and don’t let the fires go out, day or
night.”
Aud Avkenever she received through
the moil a letter Avith a legal appear
ance, or an envelope crested with the
firm address of Messrs. Tape & String
ham, her Cousin Robinson’s lawyers,
she invariably poked it between the
bars of the grate, and smiled vindic
lively to see it blaze.
W hat are Ave to do with such a
case as this?" said Mr. Tape, when he
^*is.
Put in a sheriff s officer at ones/’
Rani Stringkam. “The woman is a
trespasser, and has been all her life.”
ly. ^o^uOfUol “She’s said Mr. No Tape, harsh bland
a woman. meas
ures. It is Gideon Robinson’s express
injunction that all courtesy be shown
to the defendant. We’ll try something
else before we proceed to extremities.”
•And one pleasant October afternoon,
wueu the air was all blue mist, and
the setting sun shone as if through a
medium ofopaque gold, the landlord
ox the Toplady Arms came puffing u P
the hill Affth a stout, pleasant-faced
gentleman, and rang the bel:, which
echoed like a double chime through
the tiny toAver.
“Go away!” said Miss Isidora, from
the AvindoAv, spying the tops of two
hats.
“Oh, my, ma’am!” squeaked Re¬
becca over her shoulder, shall I get
the gun?”
“I beg pardon, ma’am,” said the
stranger, “but-”
“Go ftAvay, I say!” sternly repeated
Miss Isidora Ives. “Rebecca, bring in
that kettle! I’ll have you to under¬
stand that I am not to be trifled Avith.”
But by this time mine host of the
Toplady Arms had simultaneously re¬
covered his breath and his presence of
mind.
“Miss Ives,” he puffed,stertorously,
don’t be flustrated! It’s only Israel
Jenkins.”
“Bless the man’s heart!” said Miss
Isidora, “why didn’t he say so before?
And Avliat on oartk do you Avant here,
Jenkins?”
“It’s a lodger, Miss Tves,” said Jen¬
kins, who had married Miss Isidora’s
old nurse, and somehoAv felt himself to
be connected Avitli the family.
“A—lodger?” repeated Miss Ives.
“This isn’t a lodging-house, man
alive!”
“Yes’m—I’m quite aware of that,”
said Israel, meekly. “And Avhere no
offense is intended, it’s hoped as none
will be took. But, knoAving as you
was alone and unprotected-”
“I don’t knoAv Avliat you call unpro
tected,” brusquely interrupted Miss
Ives. “I’ve got a loaded gun and a
six-gallon kettle of boiling water here.”
“And,” mildly Avent on Israel Jen¬
kins, “this ’ere gentleman, a Mr. Mar¬
shall, of Alabama, Avanted a pleasant
lodging in the neighborhood, Avkick
meals could be took at the Tc*fiady
Arm—though our apartments is all oc¬
cupied Avttk the gentry as come to fish
and shoot, through October—and No¬
vember—and it might be a consolation
to J'ou, Miss Ives, to have a gentleman
about the premises; and I could par¬
ticular recommend him as very quiet
and decent.”
“Good gracious!” said Miss Isidora.
“Why don’t the man speak up for
himself? Is he deaf and dumb?”
“It would be a great kindness,
ma’am,” said Mr. Marshall, of Ala¬
bama, at this direct appeal.
Miss lA'es hesitated.
“Well,” she said at last, “I don’t
know that I’ve any objections. Re¬
becca, unbolt and unchain the door!”
And so The Tower garrison Avas
strengthened by an addition of one.
Of course, Miss Isidora Ives told
Mr. Marshall the whole story before
he bad dwelt tAventy-fouv hours be¬
hind the queer little Avooden battle¬
ments of The Tower. Mr. Marshall
listened quietly.
“Isn’t it a clear case of swindling
and extortion?” she demanded, ex¬
citedly, with her short curls (parted
on one side, like a man’s) all rumpled,
her cheeks reddened, her plump little
fist unconsciously doubled.
“I should tliiuk so,” said Mr. Mar¬
shall.
“Would you submit to it?” she
asked.
“No, I wouldn’t,” said Mr. Mar
shall,
“And all because my great-grand
father’s name A\ r as Avritten John B., bl¬
stead of JohnU., in the deed,” per
sisted Miss Isidora. “Why, any
schoolboy would be ashamed to avail
himself of any equivocation like that!”
Mr. Marshall proved himself a quiet
and peaceable member of the little
household. He liked dogs, and al
lowed Miss lA*es’ King Charles spaniel
to sleep, undisturbed, amid the papers
on his table.
He Avas partial to birds, and en
tered, at once, into the most friendly
of alliances with the parrot and the
macaw. He grafted Miss Isidora’s
orange tree for her, and showed her
a new way to train her wax plants.
And at the end of four weeks Miss
Isidora put into execution a plan which
she had long been forming.
“Mr. Marshall, ’ said she, “it s a
great deal of trouble for you to go
three times a day tramping down that
long hill to the Toplady Arms and
back again. You are no longer a
stranger to us here. We have learned
to respect and trust you. If you
choose to take your meals with* us
here, I shall be quite willing to admit
you to my frugal table, as a friend.”
Mr. Marshall’s countenance changed
oddly. He made a curious sound in
his throat as if he were swallowing
something.
“Miss Isidora,” he said, “I can’t.”
“Can’t!” repeated the lady.
“Nothing could induce me to eat
salt under this roof,” said Mr. Mar¬
shall, incoherently.
“Bless and save us! Is the man
mad?” cried Miss Isidora Ives.
“I am, socially speaking, a fraud,”
said the stranger—“a forgery.”
Miss Ives sat down on the sofa in a
helpless way and stared at him.
“But your sweet graciousness and
kindness have conquered me,” added
Mr. Marshall.
“What do you mean?” said Miss
Ives.
“Just this,” said the stranger, “I
am here on false pretenses. I am
your cousin, the plaintiff. My name
isn’t Marshall, but Gideon Marshall
Robinson.”
“Ma’am,” whispered the heartless
maid, who turned absolutely green on
hearing the name of the family
enemy, “shall I bring the kettle of
boiling water?”
“Rebecca,” said Miss Ives, “hold
your tongue and go out and feed the
young turkeys. I am fully compe¬
tent to manage this matter myself.”
And Rebecca, feeling herself put
doAvn, departed.
“I came here,” went on Mr. Rob¬
inson, “to look into the facts of the
case for myself. I have heard of your
prejudices against me--”
“Yes, I think so,” interposed Miss
Ives.
“And I do not blame you for them,”
said Mr. Robinson. “Now that I am
personally acquainted with you, Miss
Ives, nothing could induce me to
prosecute this-”
“Iniquitous claim!” interposed Isi¬
dora.
“Iniquitous claim!” acceded Mr.
Robinson, with a repetition of the
SAvallowing sound. “Just what you
please to call it. I respect you as h
lady, but I appreciate you as a rela¬
tive; but, of course, knowing Avko I
am, you cannot tolerate me any longer
as your friend. I will pack my bag
and depart at once. I can only feel
regretful that I have deceived you so
long. I feel myself to be a hypocrite
and a swindler!”
He waited meekly to receive the
full tide of Miss Isidora’s curbed
Avratk. She put out her plump little
baud, Avith four dimples iu the four
joints.
“Don’t go!” she said, in a low
voice.
“What!” cried the incredulous plain
tiff.
“There’s no reason Avky we should¬
n’t he friends,” said Miss Tves, in her
odd, brusk Avay. “Things seem so
very different, now that Ave are
acquainted with each other. Couldn’t
Ave—compromise?”
“Isidora,” said Mr. Robinson,
“we’re cousins, you knoAv, twice re
moA'ed. I may call you Isidora?”
“Oh, certainly!” said Miss Ives.
“We are the tAvo last seeming
heirs. ”
“Plaintiff and defendant,” nodded
Isidora.
“Exactly so. Now it has just
occurred to me—I mean, I’ve been
thinking of it for some time—that if
we were to unite our claims—”
“To get married, do you mean?”
said Tsidora, bluntly.
“Yes, precisely. It would put an
end to all litigation,” pleaded Mar¬
shall Robinson.
“So it would,” observed Miss Isi¬
dora, thoughtfully.
“Would you be willing to marry
me?” said Mr. Gideon Marshall Robin¬
son.
“Y-yesl” said Isidora. “I think I
should. I’m not young; but then six
and-thirtv is not absolutely old.”
“You are a rose in full bloom,” said
Mr. Robinson, enthusiastically, “and
I myself am not a mere boy, it must
be remembered.”
“And if people should laugh at us?”
“Why, Ave’ll let ’em laugh,” said
Isidora.
“And Ave’ll laugh, too,” said the
middle-aged lover, cheerfully.
The fire was allowed to go down,
the kettle cover taken off, the charges
drawn from the gun, and The Tower
pronounced to be no longer in a state
of siege.
And this was the Avay in which the
famous case of Robinson \*s. Ives,
Avhich had promised to swell the fees
of laAvyers innumerable for the next
ten years, was removed from the
court of records. And no one was
sorry except the legal gentlemen afore¬
said.—Saturday Night.
Crickets Now on Our Hearths.
It appears that the domestic cricket
of Europe, the “cricket of the hearth,”
has been introduced into this country.
In Minneapolis and elsewhere nuisance*, they
have proved to be a great
House agents there claim that besides
being tiresome and noisy, “*a they are
very destructive, so that house in¬
vaded by them could not be rented,
This cricket Avas observed in Canada
by Kalm in 1749, and its recent occur-j j
rence there has been confirmed bvtAvo
well-known entomologists; and it has
been observed in various Eastern
towns bv Uliler and others but it lin«
not hitherto been common in the
United States though frequently ob
served in Canada.—New York Inde
pendent.
III If’S WEEKLY LETTER.
DOMESTIC HAPPINESS A TREAS
ERE VALUED ABOVE RICHES.
MANY ILL-ASSORTED MARRIAGES.
To Break Up the Peace of a Happy House¬
hold Is Worse Than Murder, Says
The Sage of Bartow.
The poet says that “domestic happi¬
ness is the only bliss of paradise that
has survived the fall.” If that is so,
and I reckon it is,Avhat an awful sin it
is for a man or his wife or a son or
daughter to break it up. It is worse
thau murder, for there is then only
one victim, and he is dead; but the de¬
stroyer of domestic happiness brings
misery to the family, and they must
live on in their sorrow. If domestic
peace and love could be purchased
with money, what a price it would
bring, and yet it can be had without
money if every member of the family
would do right. I was ruminating
about this and wondering if even the
devil Avas mean enough to take pleasure
in destroying the peace of a household.
The book of Job does not make him
that mean, for Job suffered no sorroAv
from any bad conduct of Avife or child¬
ren. Satan Avants Avorshipers, and
CA-en dared to try to seduce the Savior
to his allegiance; but he did it in an
open and manly Avay, and lost. He is
an adversary—a bad one—a poAverful
one ever since he Avas thrust out of
heaven; but according to scripture he
has not yet lost his poAver or his con¬
sequence, for the Lord talked to him
in Job and the Savior had a conference
Avith him in Mathew, and Michael, the
a Avitli him about
the body of Moses. He is a bold,self
poised, defiant spirit and uses many arts
to seduce mankind from their allegi¬
ance; but surely he wouldn’t take aA\'ay
and destroy the only bliss of paradise
that is left us. He kasent done it from
Ingersoll, for that notable mail has a
most loA’ing household, and so liaA'e
many infidels and atheists and skep¬
tics. My opinion is that our original
sin has more to do Avith bad conduct
than the devil. We are born to sin as
the sparks fly upAvard, and the devil
urges us on and apologizes for every
mean thing Ave do and tries to comfort
us, but I believe that it is in the power
of every man and Avoman and son and
daughter to preserve the family peace
and to make home the most attractive
place upon the earth. Then, why
don’t tliev do it? It sickens us Avith
sorrow to read the family troubles in
the daily papers. Sometimes it is the
husband, sometimes the Avife, some¬
times the daughter, but oftener than
all together it is the son that brings
the blight and darkens the doors and
makes parents and sisters seek to hide
from the gaze of men. What makes
the young men do so? Every day
there is a new case somewhere—mur¬
der, suicide, embezzlement, and all is
mixed up with the jails and courts and
pictures in the papers and the misery
of kindred and the world’s cold criti¬
cism. Hoav many families that once
moved proudly Avith the social stvell
ing throng have retired from it to
grieve, over the crushing fate of a Avay
Avard son or a daughter’s shame. Hoav
many families have been broken doAvn
by reckless sons-in-law. I know some
aged parents Avkose hair has groAvn
prematurely gray, whose broAvs are
furroAved Avith lines of sorrow' and
Avhose smiles are ahvays sad, if they
smile at all.
Young men, please stop and think.
The happiness of home is worth mill¬
ions of dollars. It heats the Klondike,
and is right close by, and no frozen
hills to cross. The pleasures of a
happy earth, home excel anything upon
and can be had so cheaply if
father and mother and children will
make it so, “He that troubleth liis
own house shall inherit the wind.” A
cross husband, a contentious, eom
rlnining dolent, discontented wife, a selfish son or an in¬
daughter can de¬
stroy the peace of t' e household.
There are some things that are worth
so much they cannot be valued. Health
of body is one of them, but peace of
mind is worth more than that. Some
years ago there was a verdict rendered
in our court at Rome giving $315,000 to
a young man because of a fall from the
train at night and a permanent injury
to ins spine. He was a man of brilliant
mind and high ambition and splendid
prospects, but the doctors testified
aiat he would be a mental wreck, and
his eloquent lawyer drew such a sad
picture of the wreck that the jury gave
this large amount as compensation.
No bones were broken, nor did he
suffer any pain. He walked about aud
Aisited his friends, and showed no
sign of imbecility, but his mental
force was impaired, his high ambition
gone, and this verdict was only an ap¬
proximation of the damage.
What, then, is the peace of a family
worth? Not merely peace of mind,
. ^ of heart, for the heart outranks
the mmd as the mmd does tbe bod T '
-
1 ™“™atmg about these lli
sorted, unhappy marriages that seem
»these later years to be more frequent
PJ trouble. olifi c som-cetTso The say? ^ d&Uie
poet
me
nestles, love
But stricken by some cru* doom
Its I corpse wonder lies on theses/
how manv modern J
mages may be called hanov—
many families do peace and W
the household. Not manv amonV, e
have children known of the rich, I know, self-in S
and no want nor
fortune. cannot And bear patientlv auv J
even among tlie tin ™
there is _ misery that the hard
taxe sad-faced increased. woman Only ye sto ,,„“
food and came to us bee*
clothes for her children
her story was that her husband had
run away for trying to make a livi
by running a blind tiger. What
curse is this marriage tie when ka<*
and unhappily made. If I was
it to I a
seems me, would rather r effia
single all my life than bind m TSl
body and soul to a young manV
had no moral principles to govern hit
The chains of matrimony! If a uii
commits a crime he can give bond An
keep out of jail, but there is uo bo
provided for a poor woman who
chained to a had, unprincipled ha
baud. She timidly shrinks from see'
ing a divorce, for even that does •;
erase the scars of the shackles she Li
Avorn Her life and her hopes ?.
blighted. There is no more pitif
sight in all nature than a good womt
chained for life to a bad, unkind, u
principled children man. She clings to’ lb] M
as her only comfort and
only to shield them from her shame.
sorrow? But why I write know about they these things’]
to readers, are unwelcom
my but I have thought it
duty, and that maybe some one o
more might be influenced to stop ail
think. On yesterday I received a Ion
letter from an, old friend asking met
plead with the young people and tlial bel
them to stop this mad eareer
seems to be increasing in our souther!
land—this unhallowed thirst for get!
ting money by short cuts and diskonl gaml
est practices—this drinking and jail
blin-g that leads to suicide or niavriagl the
—this infidelity to their
vows that destroys the happiness ol
the family.
But this will do for this time. It il
not a good day for me no how. It ii
not Friday, but it is one of these)
hard, unlucky days that brings trouble)
in various forms. The old cow got ontj
last night and went foraging in the!
suburbs and eat up a whole cotton
patch, and I’m expecting the darken
every minute to come for his damages,
But that’s nothing. A little negro
girl was rolling our little Caroline
through the hall on a tricycle. The
child is only two and a half years old,
and is my comfort—a little bine- 1
eyed beauty that we borrow almost!
every day from her mother—and I
wouldn’t take a million dollars for her;
love. But, somehow, the nurse cut
the wheels around too suddenly and
threw' Caroline violently forward on to
the iron shaft, and the bolt on the top
of it mashed out two upper teeth and
one lower one, and bent the others in
and cut her chin badly and bruised
her little lips to a jelly, and when 1
took her up and saw it all it made me
heart sick. I wanted to weep and cry
aloud for grief. For an hour or two I
was nearly heart-broken for i can’t
bear to see such a helpless child suffer
such agony. Her little mouth was all
broken up and deformed. But the
good Lord temper^ such things to
little children, and now the dear little
girl is getting along nicely and sings
a lisping song to her dolly. The good
book tells about a place where there
will be no more pain or sorrow. Well,
I want to go that place as soon as the
Lord wills it; and I want all mv folks
to go with me, and everybody elses
folks, too. —Bill Akp in Atlanta 'con¬
stitution.
WOODFORD MEETS TETUAX.
SpanitOi Papers Protest Against Our Min
ister's Mission.
Advices from San Sebastian
that General Woodford and the ( | n ’ e
of Tetuan, the Spanish foreig-* llllL *’
ter, met informally Wednesday and
arranged the date for the piemen
of General Woodford’s crelentials
the queen regent. of Madrid pub
All the newspapers against the n:i?
lish strong protests Woodford, thus ca
sion of General
ing widespread irritation aga-us.
United States.
MONTGOMERY HAS QUARANTINE.
Health Takes Action to
Her Board of
Guard Against “Yellow Jack.
The board of health of Montgomery
Ala., has quarantined Scranton agams, and ah - other
Springs and
places where the fever may n
.rantine^S .g.. 5 ^.l P,- en .
The qn |j e
gers, baggage ( nd will be ngid
transmit the disease a
ly enforced. citizens „ ha Ln-c re
* Montgomery
Many returned ! %
cen.ly much anxiety is felt m tue
and .
that account. __
HOBSE and hobse.
long time p^y i:1 =
Doctor—You’re a
mv account, sir. were losg
Hardup—W ell, you
time curing me.