Newspaper Page Text
NEWS.
yabama, expects soon to have
Sex.« a
tie-’- ric lights- much used for
vma marble is
^euts 1lvB other purposes.
and
*\ ^om ^ quantities o? walnut and shipped poplar
southwest Virginia are
.
jgorth (iBEENVXFHE S. 0., has a population
An increase of over two thou
0 { 8,355- -
* OTffthe Mississippi river at
Orleans, at a cost of thirty milhon
°L’orange liars is talked of.
d i Florida this
crop of yeat
J be estimated. cue-eight in excess of last year,
go iijg grid-ironed with
VotflSIANA is being
fronds and in consequence land is ad
Justice of the Peace in
ks county, Ga., who has held his of
m and has never tried
fice for eight years the litigants to
i case, always getting
^promise. seventy-eight cent tin,
Tff-sTONE, per
has lately been discovered in Birining
Ala. Tlie lauds where the find
tan. developed and much ,
occurred are being
js exp ected from them.
blasting on the site of the new
jjath-house at Hot Springs, Ark,, re¬
centlv, a new spring of hot water was
^covered, the thermal fluid bursting
fortli with a force sufficient to throw a
stream a distance of fifty feet.
Extensive land sales are reported in
■ Arkansas. Splendid timber lands, ex
I [ending up the Sabine river with lately a river been
■ front of twenty miles, have
I I purchased with foreign capital. This
large tract, it is said, contains 460,000,
■ oflO feet of timber.
■ grxcE the death of Chambord, the last
loyalist newspaper in France has ceased
publication. It is probable that the
poor pretense of royalty was a costly
bauble to Chambord after all, and that
it was his purse that opened when a lit¬
tle advertising- was needed.
The will of Mrs. Fillmore, widow of
the late President, is the subject of a
Contest in a court at Buffalo, New York,
a claim being made that she was insane
when she made it. It is another warn
ing to wealthy persons to distribute
their property as they wish it before the
tall of death is heard.
During September 11,218 cabin pas
jengers entered our Golden Gate, against
$,883 for the same month last year. The
number of immigrants for the same
month was 32,900, being a decrease from
the preceding year. The year’s immi¬
gration shows a decrease of about 60,000
from the figures of last year.
The South stands low in the scale of
wealth. In Georgia, for example, in
1880 $240,000,000 represented the aggre¬
gate value of property o! 1,500,000 peo¬
ple, making but $160 per capita, less
than half the $340, whicn was the gen¬
eral average on the same basis of valua
tion. However, of the $240,000,000
about $234,000,000 were held by the
whites—817,000 in number—so that the
wealth per capita of the white citizens
was about $185, not so far below the av¬
erage. For the sake of comparison we
note that the individual wealth of Great
Britain is the highest in the world. Say
in 1880, an aggregate wealth of 45 bill¬
ions of dollars divided amongst 32,000,*
000 persons, an average of $1,400 per
capita. France stands next. Popula¬
tion 36,000,000, wealth 37 billion dollars,
average, $1,030. The United States is
next in order, if 40 billion dollars be a
Correct valuation, about $800 per capita.
Germany with a population of 41,000,000
and a wealth of 30 billions, next, the av¬
erage per capita being $740. Probably
Massachusetts, as a single state, would
head the list of wealth per capita, with
betwean $1,500 and $1,800 as the aver
I ege.
Postal Statistics.
There are to-day 47,932 post offices in
the United States. This is an increase
during the year of 1,711, and within
nine years the additions have amounted
to 12,385.
These post offioes are by law divided
into four classes, one particular dis¬
tinction being that some are Presidential
offices. A Presidential post office is one
ing where, the salary of the postmaster be¬
at least $1,000 annually, the ap¬
pointment is vested by law in the Presi¬
dent. Three classes are of this dignity.
The first class must receive at least
$3,000 a year; the second class includes
all offices with salaries between $2,000
and $3,000, and the third class is from
$1,000 to $2,000. There is still another
class, called the fourth, where the salary
attached to the office is less than $1,000
and the appointment of postmaster is
made by the Postmaster-General. This
class, of course, is by far the most nu¬
merous.
The post office in the city of New
York occupies a distinctive position, the
salary of its postmaster being fixed by
special iaw at $8,000 a year—the pay of
a Cabinet position. There are in the
State of New York 3,383 post offices of
nil classes, an increase during the past
fiscal year of 43, and within nine years
of 268. The offices of the Presidential
grade number 211.
In one chapter—B oy—melon—shady
spot—secluded nook—yum! yum! all
gone—boysigbs—colic comes—boy howls
—mother scares—father jaws—doctor well—wants
comes—colic goes—boy
mere—(notice Lctroii of funeral hereafter),—
Free Press,
THE R UINED WELL.
•• What seek you here, my little maid?"
I asked, as by the ruined well
She stood, and looked as if obeyed
By her, was some unholy spell.
“This, not the hour, nor this the place,
For maiden such as you to roam.
Come, from thy brow that sad look chase
And find with me your forest home !”
“Nay, sir, ’tis not chance brings me here,
No folly does my steps attend;
Tlie hour has for me no fear,
No terrors does the wild scene blend.”
“Then tell me what invites your care;
Has this place pleasures then, for thee?
Such lonely vigil seems so rare,
For one who should be sorrow free.”
“A lover, sir, had I, but he
Is far away—cross oceans’ foam
Ten thousand miles from Normandy
A stranger land is now his home.”
“On many an eve, like this, to-night
We w'atclied yon bright stars cast their spell
O’er the dark scene, and knew each light
That kissed the water in this well.”
“I, was the well, he said to me;
Deep my love and clear my heart;
The twinkling star above was he,
Steady and true, tho’ far apart.”
“He bade me come whene’er the sky
The seven stars of the dipper showed:
And looking from those gems on high
See, where in yonder well they glowed.”
“Then think of him; for that same hour
That saw me watch each twinkling light
Would draw him like the magnet’s power,
To watch them in the silent night."
“Oh, Sir, tho’ unseen, now to you,
My lover looks from yonder star;
In this old well, reflection too,
Of his dear form shines from afar.”
She paused, and on each bright gem fix’d
A look of hope, content and love
Such trust with doubt and pain unmix’d,
—Enough the heart of stone to move !
O child-like faith, we need such, more
Than what this earth at present yields
Where hope and trust together soar
To brighter skies and heavenly fields.
—It. G. Kenvoco.
■ •3 H J WEEKLY ’J
VOLUME VI.
Ri^oth er* »TaoUr.
If yon will ride with me some morning
over a hilly section of New England, I
will show you my old home. The little
manufacturing village of my boyhood
has become almost a city. Our family
residence, once the best in town, will
soon make way for a row of tenement
houses. Once the dingy, many-paned
windows cast merry glances within.
Now, far-seeing with the vision of old
age, they look beyond the busy street,
beyond the brick-crowned hill, with the
ghosts of an ancient forest waving city. over
it, and they see a low, green
Among its crumbling door-plates they
can read the names of all the Dennison
family save one, and that is on my office
door—John Dennison, M. D.
Years ago, father owned a woolen fac¬
tory at the Falls. I suppose he was
considered a prominent man in the town,
for he held important offices many years.
Mother died when Jack and I were very
young. Jack and I were twins. Few
outside of our own family knew us apart,
so people called us indiscriminately Jack
or John. The neighbors knew that the
fastest runner was J ack and the loudest
talker was John and everybody knew
that when one boy was visible the other
must be within hearing distance.
Fannie and Alice kept house for us.
The poor girls must have had an uncom¬
fortable time of it with J ack and L It
was doubtless a happy day for acad¬ them
when we were pushed off to the
emy some twenty miles distant, with the
promise that if we behaved ourselves
and the teachers thought anything could
be made of us we could fit for college.
“Now, young men, if you go to play¬
ing pranks and don’t attend to your
books, you’ll walk home and go to
work,” father said, as he drove away
from the boarding-house.
Father was a man of his word and we
governed ourselves accordingly, al¬
though we managed to have some pretty
gay times. At the end of three years
we had completed onr “fit.” Father
came down to the exhibition and lis
tened complacently while we shouted
forth our lofty aspirations and onr
sweeping denunciations against the fool¬
ish world. We went home feeling that
we were just the men to revolutionize
society. Four years seemed a long time
before we could begin and I was afraid
some of the other fellows would get
ahead of us and right all the wrongs be¬
fore we were out of college.
What plans we made that summer.
Of course, we were going to study for a
profession, and we would always be pai-t
ners. But, what profession would best
further the interests of the human race
and the credit of the Dennison family ?
I was in favor of studying medicine, but
Jack used to say that he didn’t want to
spend his life doctoring sick babies or
making bread poultices.
One day after we had had a more than
usually earnest discussion we went into
the house and found father sitting in his
arm-chair unconscious. He had been
suddenly stricken with paralysis. We
summoned the doctors and they told
us that he could never be well again in
mind or body, although he might live
for years. We all bore our affliction as
well as we could. Jack and I saw that
we must look after the mill and the
family, and that the unregenerate world
must look after itself. We divided the
work between us and got on very well.
One morning the last of August, Jack
came to me and said:
“John, 1 want you to go to college
We are not both needed here. I can
hire help and take care of the factory
CONYERS, GA.. OCTOBER 12, 1883.
enough. I like it first rate. You
study with a doctor vacations and it
take you so very long to get
We must have one profes¬
man in the family, and you know
never did care a great deal about
medicine. Now pack your
and be off. ”
At first I would not listen to the prop¬
but secretly it was just what I
been wishing might happen. J ack
overcame my scruples and the
next week I started for Dartmouth.
I remember how cheery Jack tried to
look that morning when the stage rat¬
tled up to the door.
“Don’t be in a hurry,” he said, as we
lifted in the trunk. “I shall get along
all right. Good luck, old hoy;” and I
heard him whistling as we slowly climbed
the hill.
What with the hazing and without
Jack I was a thoroughly miserable boy
for the next month. By the third day
after my arrival at Hanover, I had de¬
cided that running a factory was the
most delightful occupation in the world.
I wrote Jack that I had decided to come
home when the term was out. I filled
long letters with descriptions of the im¬
provements that we could make at the
Falls. We would run a newspaper, I
said. We would call it the Clippings,
and it should combine the interests of
literature and the wool trade, lu time
we would go to the Senate.
To these plans, elaborated on many
pages of foolscap, Jack replied with a
loconic “Stop your homesick nonsense,
and count your bones when you’ve extra
time.”
Before the three mouths were over I
became quite contented, and decided
not to go home, “especially if Jack
doesn’t want me,” I thought, feeling a
little injured. So I did not go home till
the summer vacation. Jack appeared to
be iu excellent spirits and I went away
feeling that he was having quite the
best of it, and that I was being sacrificed
on the altar of family pride. Since
Jack was having so fine a time I decided
to enjoy my remaining years of martyr¬
dom. As it was before the days of rapid
travel and my long vacation was taken
up with study, I was at home very little.
I remember thinking every succeeding
vacation that Jack and I resembled each
other less and less. He was getting to
care nothing for good clothes or for go¬
ing among people. He looked common
place and talked like the old men of the
village.
“What a difference education makes in
people,” I thought, as Jack laughed at
my centuries’-old jokes. I cautioned
him now and then against fostering a
love of money for I thought him a bit
close. He always bills, sent me money
enough to pay the but there was
never much margin. The factory was
doing a good business and it seemed to
me that I ought to have more spending
money. last in college I be¬
During my year with
came very intimate a former chum
whose family was staying in Hanover.
In short I was interested in my chum’s
sister. My chum was studying medi¬
cine. He had decided to spend two
years in Germany. His mother and
sister were going, and he urged me to
form one of the party. I was easily per¬
suaded that nothing but two years in
Germany could ever make a successful
practitioner of me. I wrote the same to
Jack along with the request that the
necessary funds be provided. The an¬
swer came by return mail.
“It’s hard times," he wrote, “and I
cannot get the money.” carrying his
I was angry. Jack was
hoarding a little too far. I sat down
and answered his letter in short but
peremptory terms. My letters to Jack
were all short now.
“You are forgetting,” belongs I wrote, to “that
a part of the factory me.
Please send me the money soon, as I
have no time to come home for it. We
are to sail directly after Commence¬
ment. ”
I felt uncomfortable after I had
posted the letters, and I wandered un¬
easily about the streets that evening. A
prayer-meeting was going on turned in one of
the churches as I passed. I back
and went in just in time for the last
hymn. They were singing “There is
rest for the weary.” I sang too, but I
came out a measure or two ahead and so
disturbed a gentleman in the next pew
that he turned around to look at me. I
recognized him then. He was Mr.
Munson, a former business acquaintance services he
of my father. After the
shook hands, smiling, and asked if I
wasn’t trying to sing him over the Jor¬
dan a little too fast for a doctor. Then
he said he hoped I was going home to
Jack soon for he needed rest, and, judg¬
ing by my singing, I wasn’t in theeast 1
• weary. Something in his tone alarmed
me and I followed him up the street ask¬
ing him questions until, after some hesi¬
tation, he told me the whole story. He
had just returned from the Falls, Jack
had been bleeding at the lungs. He
was in a very weak condition, but would
not let me know until I was through my
studies. A business man told Mr. Mun¬
son privately that the factory had not
belonged to my father since his illness,
and that business troubles had caused
the shock from which he had never ral¬
lied. Jack had known all this from the
first, but had begged the owners until of the I
mill to keep the matter secret
was through college. He had worked
for a salary and had supported the whole
family, keeping me like a prince all the
while I was grumbling.
I started directly for home, reaching
the Falls the next evening. It was
quite late, so I did not arouse the house
but climbed in the window. There was
a light burning in Jack’s room as I wont
safely up stairs and entered. I wish I
could forget the next half hour. table My
letter lay freshly opened upon the
and Jack had commenced a letter to me.
fie had written “My Dear Brother,”
the pen was yet in his hand and the ink
was not dry, but he was forever beyond
any letters or words of mine.
It all happened years ago, but even
now I would give two years of my life to
have asked Jack’s forgiveness.
WORKERS IS STRAW.
People Who Make and Sell Head-Cn’ear in
Massachusetts.
Certain parts of Worcester county and
the western part of Norfolk afford more
than an average number of chances for
the employment of women, and they are
all well improved. In addition to the
mills, stores, printing offices, telegraph
offices, millinery and dressmaking estab¬
lishments, etc., which are open to fe¬
males in other parts of the State, the
manufacture of straw hats affords a re¬
spectable and pleasant half enployment the to a
large number. About of indus¬
try in the United States is in Massachu¬
setts, and the greater part of this in the
section named above. Six or seven
thousand hands are employed in the
business, probably Fifteen three-fourtlis of them
being females. years ago the
number of people employed Massachusetts iu this
branch of industry iu
was over 11,000. 90 per cent, being fe¬
males. Since the general introduction
of straw sewing machines the percentage
of females has been somewhat reduced.
During the past year these manufac¬
tories produced about 10,000,000 hats,
a small proportion being felts, winding plush and
velvets. On the straws the the
braid for the machines, the sewing,
wiring, lining and trimming, is done by
women. On the other varieties, except ,
perhaps, felts, woman’s work is a large
part of the labor required. Where tlie
girls all come from is a question quite
common from strangers, for although
everybody knows that this State is nu¬
merically great on the woman question in the
proportion seems out of reason a
straw town. Maine furnishes a large
number of a superior class of work-girls.
The towns down East offer few oppor¬
tunities for employment, and the daugh¬
ters of the farmers and the sisters of tlie
captains and mates of the sailing craft
of that sturdy State come to work in the
straw shop. Many join the ranks of the
“straw girls,” are industrious and save
money to carry home in the summer,
when the season closes. Others come from
comfortable homes to see a little of the
world beyond their own commonwealth.
A large number come—not for the ob¬
ject of getting a husband—ah, no! but
that is the result, nevertheless, so that
in “straw towns,” in about half the mar¬
riages, it is safe to assume that the bet¬
ter half or her parents belong in Maine.
About half of the twenty-five or thirty
men engaged in the business in the sec¬
tion considered now succeeded in put¬
ting by something for a rainy day
some of them enough of worldly several wealth
for quite a heavy rain. In cases
this condition has been reached, either
by luck or pluck, from very small be¬
ginnings. One whose possessions now
are estimated among the hundreds of
thousands started some twenty years
ago with less than a thousand dollars.
Another opened his business career in a
city of the Middle States with a kit of
tools or renovating old straw hats and a
capital of $96. Things are different
with him now.
Another began life in a straw factory
in a subordinate position, won the good
will of the proprietor, was taken into
partnership, and to-day is at the head
of one of the large concerns in the State
and with a name good on paper for tens
of thousands.
These are some of those regarded as
successful in business. Of course there
are examples of failure also, men who
have made and lost and others who
seem destined to win little in the pur¬
suit of riches unless in the belter direc¬
tion of “laying up treasures in heaven.”
—Boston Globe..
Population of the Werli.
The latest estimates by German scion
tists of the total population of our earth
are, in round numbers, as follows:
On Square Inhab¬
Kilometre*. itant*.
Australia 9,000,000 4,000,000
Europe.. 9,500,000 315,000,000
Africa.. .30,000,000 205.000,000
America . 43,000,000 830,000,00.1 89,000,000
Asia..... 44,500,000
Europe is the most densely populated
of the continents; Asia contains more
than one-half of the inhabitants of the
globe. As long as there is evidently
room for untold millions of people there
need be no fear of over population. Ac¬
cording to their religious creeds, the
above 1,443,000,000 may be classified
thus:—212,000,000 Catholics, 124,000,
000 Protestants, 84,000,000 Schismatics,
7,000,000 Israelites, 200,000,000 Moham¬
medans, 163,000,000Brahmins, 423,000,
000 Buddhists and 230,000,000 pagans.
The number of Christians aggregate,
therefore, 420,000,000, the one-half worshipers
of one God are less than the in¬
habitants of the earth, and 828,000,000
are given to idolatry. extraordinary The foregoing
statistics reveal the fact
that the Catholic religion has only the 4,000,- other
000 worshipers more than
Christian confessions.
The guard of an English railway car¬
riage recently refused to allow a natural¬
ist to carry a live hedgehog with him.
The traveler, indignant, pulled “Take a turtle
from his wallet and said: this,
too;” but the guard replied, good-natur¬
edly: “Ho, no. sir. It’s dogs you can’t
carry, and dogs is dogs, cats is dogs, and
’edge’ogs is dogs, but turtles is hinsects.’
NUMBER 29.
JUDGE LYNCH AT HOME.
A WAY THEY' HAVE OF DOING THINGS
OUT WEST.
A Vivid Description of the Men who Com¬
pose a Lynching Hurt}—They do the
Work Silently and With Determination.
[From the Detroit Free Press.]
You may have seen a street riot. That
is simply the outer circles of a whirlpool.
A shower of brick-bats—a surge up and
down—a dozen broken heads—a cry of
“police?” and your crowd scatters like
sheep, and slinks away like curs.
A mob sets out to resist the authori¬
ties. Nine out of every ten men in it
are cowards They boast and brag and
encourage, but they keep their own
bodies iu the hack ground. They know want that
to see someone hurt, but they be
law will triumph, and they want to
able to prove that they were simply
lookers-on. One brave man will walk
into a mob and defy and over-awe it.
*******
A brutal outrage has been committed.
It is au affair that stirs the blood of sons
and brothers and brings a dangerous
light to the eyes of husbands and fathers.
There is no boasting or shouting, Knots
of men gather here and there, and they
speak with fierce earnestness, but in
low voices. No mob surges up and
down—no wild yells rend the air—no
cowards furnish drink to excite young
men to foolish deeds,
“Lynch him!”
It is not shouted, but spoken in whis¬
pers or read in each other’s eyes. Every
man has obeyed the aiding laws—every to enforce man
would peril his life in
them, but there is a feeling that legal
punishment does not always punish suf¬
ficiently. him!”
“Lynch who partake of
When men never a
meal without bowing the head in prayer
whisper those words, look out! The
heart burns and thrills. For the time
being law is nothing. Fathers whisper
it to sons, brothers to each other, mer¬
chants to mechanics. Lips tighten and
grow pale, teeth shut close, eyes flush
as you never saw them before.
The knots of men swell into groups—
the groups consolidate into a crowd.
The leader takes his place, and instinc¬
tively the crowd realize that he is the
proper person. Speeches and orations
are not in order—ropes are!
See now! Teeth shut tighter would as the
crowd moves. Not a man turn
back from a loaded cannon. It moves
ahead, but it swirls and hisses and gur¬
gles like a river vexed by rocks. It is
the whispers—the quick answers—the
pale faces—which tell you what danger
lurks in the crowd. A noisy crowd can
be scattered. It will fall to pieces of
itself. A silent body of men will take
your life if every man has to peril his
own.
It is the jail. Key or no key, the
prisoner must come out. The crcwd
would have him if a score of grated
doors had to be battered down. He does
not plead for mercy. One look around
him tells him that his life is hungered
for with such intensity that prayers
would be mockery. He may look up at
the harvest moon and star-studded
heavens, but he sees nothing. He is
dazed and awed by the grim silence of
the band.
“Halt!”
No voice commands, but here is the
tree. The whirlpool stands still for a
moment. Faces grow a little whiter,
but the eyes of every man show a dogged
determination that would blaze into des¬
peration if opposed. The falling noose back, is rapid -
ly adjusted, there is a and
with a groan of terror and despair trem¬
bling on his lips the guilty wretch swings
in the air. The creak of the limb—the
calls of a night bird—the heard deep breathing
of men—ore plainly aa the body
swings to and fro or turns round and
round as the death struggle goes on.
It is morning. Merchants are behind
their counters, mechanics at the bench,
sons at school. There is no sign that
last night was not one of tranquility and
peace. Men speak again, women and
children laugh as they walk abroad—the
cyclone has passed. The jail doors are
Iteing repaired—the tree no longer holds
a corpse, and a stranger would look upon
this face and that and whisper to him¬
self:
“What good-nature I see 1 They in every
line of their countenances are
obedient to law and enforce the best d.
order."
Riots are tho work of demagogues and
boasters. Mobs are created by cowards.
When men turn out with shut teeth and
whispered voices to take the law into
their own hands, Judge Lynch has
opened court and sentenced a man to die.
They Found It.
Tlie officers were sure that a certain
Portlander sold beer, and they worked a
whole day in his cellar clawing over
drains and sewer pipes, but found no
beer. Finally they went at the wall. A
stone dropped out. Other stones came
down under the blows, revealing a par¬
tition of boards faced with chiprock.
Back of this, built into the wall, was a
hiding place, but empty. side, They ripped
up the boards at one and found a
layer of earth where should have been
solid stone. Further digging brought
out two barrels of beer, from which a
line of hose ran to the store above. In
another instance they saw which a post, to
which was nailed a board seemed
to have formed at one time a part of a
coal bin. They twisted it off, and found
that it concealed a faucet in the hollow
post.
HOMEWARD BOUND.
HBV THEV WERE TRAVELING TO*
WARD MAINE.
An A«td £•«»). I.envinjr Utah Bellini'
Them rtj Fast us Two Horses Can Carry
Them.
A letter from Cleveland, Ohio, to the
New York Sun, says: Two dust-covered
horses, a covered wagon containing a
man and a woman, with aged a long rope, dog, to
which was attached an yellow
appeared on the streets here recently.
The man was dark and swarthy, with a
white beard and long flowing hair. The
woman was dressed in a faded calico,
her skin was as dark as her husband’s,
and her fac6 was covered with wrinkles.
“My name is Sarah Stafford, and this
is my husband, Timothy Stafford,” said
the woman. “We lives, or at least we
used to live, twenty-eight Maine. miles For from four
Portland, State of
years we’ve been galavantin’ about out
West, and are now on our way home,
thankful that we’ve had our lives pre¬
served, for we’ve been in some almighty looked
tight places, and several times
death in the face.”
Mrs. Stafford lighted a little block
pipe, and after pulling vigorously, con¬
tinued:
“We don’t look like Mormons, do we?
Well, we ain’t Mormons any more', but
we once was. The fools ain’t all dead
yet, which accounts for our bein’ here
to-day. You see, my Timothy was al¬
ways susceptible, and I had to do this,
that, and the other thing if I wanted to
live with him in peace. Well, one day
while he was cuttin’ grass in the meader
a leanish man with an awful oily tongue
came along and asked him to join the
Mormons.
“Now, so far as I was concerned, I
hated Mormons wus than I did pizen;
but when Timothy brought the man to
the house, and he talked so good and
kind like to me and called me his dear
Sister Stafford, I sorter warmed up to
him and listened to what hesaid. Oh, he
painted an awful pretty picture of Utah,
where all was love and happiness, and
where there was no backbitin’ or slander.
He road to us from his Bible and prayed
and seemed so good that Timothy here
was actually struck, while I—well, I
guess I was a little bit struck too.
“Well, to make a long story short, as
the sayin’ is, Timothy and I were per¬
suaded to sell our farm and go to Utah.
We got there in time and was welcomed
by the Mormon Churoh. The deacons
and other big guns made a great fuss
over Timothy, while the women looked
after me. One old fellow with a long
neck and a crooked leg said we must buy
a farm at once and prepare for great re¬
sponsibilities. He then winked kind of
mysterious like at Timothy and went
away. Timothy allowed that he meant
to elect him to some high office in the
Church, but I told him office didn’t bring
in bread and butter, so I guessed we’d
postpone buyin’ the farm till we found
out how we liked the community. So
we rented a small house near the town,
and held on to our cash. I’d been a
scrapin’ and diggin’ tor nigh onto thirty
years, and didn’t propose to get swindled
if I knew it.
“Well, after we’d bin there a while,
along comes a squad of the deacons,
who looked pious and resigned like, and
said that Timothy ought to take another
wife, a young woman who could be a
daughter to me, and comfort my declin¬
ing years. Well, sir, if they’d shot me
down there I wouldn’t have been more
surprised. After I had collected my
thoughts a little bit I went into the
kitchen, and got a pot of bilin’ water,
and then I sailed Into them deacons.
Scatter ! you better be’ieve they did. I
thought they’d break their pious necks
tryin’ to get over the fence. The gate
was too small for ’em, and they went
down the road like a hurricane. 1 picked
up a rake and went after ’em, and if I
didn’t baste the hindermost my name
ain’t Sarah Stafford. I’ll warrant there
wasn’t two inches of sound hide left on
him. When I got back to the house I
found Timothy in a terrible rage. He
said I didn’t have his pleasure or com¬
fort at heart, and that I didn’t love him.
like I used to in Maine. He even told
me that I was a-gettin’ too old for him,
and he ought to have a young wife if he
was goin’ to be a highcockalorum when he told in the
Church. Well, sir, me
‘hat I used the rake on him.”
Mr. Stafford attempted to speak at
this juncture, but his wife shut him np
with one decided look and continued:
“He don’t like to hear what a fool h»
was among them Mormons. Now, I
could have married the long-necked
deacon I spoke of a short time ago, but
Timothy had been my mainstay and
guide for thirty year and I was satisfied.
It made me terrible mad, though, to hear
him jabberin’ about a young wife, jest
as if I warn’t good 'nough for him. But
I took him by the hand and left the
country. We walked until znornin’ and
put np at a farm house. I bought them
horses and that wagon of the fanner,
and kivered the wagon myself with mns
lin. Since then we’ve been travelin’ to¬
ward Maine as fast as them critters will
carry us, and when we git there we’ll
never leave again until they carry us out
feet first. So there, young man, is our
story. It’s as true as gospel, and if it’ll
teach any old fools in this country to
stay at home, mind their business, and
let the Mormons alone, you can print it
in your paper, although I’d awfully hate
my old neighbors down in Maine to see
it.”
Mrs. Stafford, with her Timothy, yel¬
low dog, and jaded horses, left for the
East.
The Cost op Transportation. —A
statistician recently estimated that the
total movement of freight on all the
railroads of the United States equalled
39,302,209,249 tons moved one mile, and
the average charge of transportation
was one and two-tenths cents per mile.
He also estimated that the aggregate
value of the total tonnage moved in that
year and, was if anything, not less than than $22,000,000,000, this
more sum.
The meanness of this world is helped
on by doing unto others as you think
they "would do unto you if they had a
chance.