Newspaper Page Text
0 JOR'feR'S BCDGET
coon riliM.' KOI NO IN
... .il.K.'I
. '" T T ',!i 01 N COI.VMX*.
IJn»’—A Fnili<*r’« flint—
irinr ‘ hr Too Much Mixiiry
fir Hire* ' 1 Ina »» Doliar Trees Leave—
*rn« Itcrenae - Tlie
, MICIH Ltc.i Etc.
jlr.P n
now TO GET BID OF HIM.
The other evening ft young lady was
; home and was approached by and a
* ;; who ambled ap beside ner,
J-ded to make himself agreeable.
, f;tV j-xh-carry—ah—your purse?
tt ;ihe. don’t mind,” she replied.
On, f seemed delighted to be
>->k it and
t \. rvici. They walked and walked,
' 'wishing to got rid of him, kept si
while thinking about something
tf rv to say. finally ventured, “I
’[iPH C1 »p»i” he
thuA you have muoh money left,
■jgi* jffsrse teems a little flat; he ! he I
jje" r t? Well, it is a little flat, sure
. id),'but ft mind that: it’s big
I don’t a
tj that I object to.”
D left her at the next corner.— Ev
tills Argue.
TOO MUCH LUXURY,
road Pa.—“No, sir. Young man,
T , ; r pleading is useless. My daughter
innit out rry her equal.”
poor Suitor— “X am certainly her
aqnai : in birth, breeding, education, and
"All! but you are not her equal in
leb ith. That’s what I mean, My
liter has been used to a life of lux.
£T— but--”
•‘I know,
•No interruptions, please. She has
' ref knhwn what it is to want for auv
Nothing that money could pur¬
ine has been denied her. She lias
i' ver been allowed to lift her hand to
: p herself in any way; never allowed
j„ learn to sew, to knit, to cook, to—in
K »l |0 knows no more about such
! .lifts than Upjow about Greek, She
liiri even Select her own wardrobe,
jM'so her 0WQ bonnets or comb her
h l,a;r , She—” But he hud fled.—
Vila. (Jail,
HE DREW THE LINE.
I The following story is told of Con
fcv'inan lUihgtoi; Burleigh, of Rensselaer and
Comities: When he first ap
I,cared Ritlia at Washington, in conversation
l rotlier Congressman one day he
Lii: Inn* "A particular friend of mine at
told mo before leaving that after
fcriivug here there would be two im
E> tilings ror ms to attend to. One
fc.ts to stop swearing, and the other to
h : pear iu a swallow-tailed coat. Well,
1 nave stepped swearing, but I’ll be
bacpiUf Iwi'l wear a swallow-tailed
rna f ,"— Men's Falls Times,
A MANUFACTURER IN BARE LUCK.
MnnuJacturer—“What's that you
i!IV ?
Siu'orintemlent Cotton-goods Factory
"V/o found the scalp of a negro in
-kit last bale. It was probably caught
in tlie madmiery and whisked off'some
pay.” ' ••What luck
[ rare !”
“i ncU sir ‘l"
[ M "< Amuixi. Ttaiuly, Mix 1 can now meet the pop
it in well.”
A by, sir, mix what in well, sir?”
TJiio of course. And, by the
Pl a .^keeper » you go through tho office tell
r to change our advertise¬
ments,” ^cs,
Lii sir; how, sir ?”
: him to advertise the goods as
r lW00i > — Philadelphia Call.
A B A REEK,
Tho customer had a big bald spot on
he back of his head. The faintest furze
^utrriv 11 visible tho remnant on the polished scalp.
of hair the bar
•—* surface,
11 y xteL’ding care
i tin i__ amf a mrting di¬
Rush rough it, then using the
in a wa J that would have
-no ,, fI( , the ,, bmue . ar
covering if there had
. baton earth made you do that?’
l «Mnently asked him.
Leium'e 1 would have offended him
Ni- u4iv hy lgnorin J * s baldness,” was the
” 2 it I tickled him
i’Ax T KILL THEM THAT WAY.
“The best way to get rid of roaches,”
d the m Witb t{iy glasses, “is to let
our fir U a u g0 ou * real cold
ii St > »i| jour ‘ wmdow , son3e and night,
the first cold on reeze them
• night ■ »--<
j a Ul f 111 pour water i crack
!' ‘et t it freeze. n every
”
UvllnT*. 1‘ 1 Wort b 1 t ’ replied the man with
/ i ° a that m I self OUC€
t,R1 ^ e down stairs . the next
>> gather up the corpses I found
' )ac i les bad strapped skates
airi ai rzed ; skating parties. You
;' , o
f n a roach that
Farcl, way.”— Oil City
. TREES leave.
; ^ long after midnight, and the
*q i' e ' cre a Peking by like hours,
iryq woeful elm tree,” she re
“ e,m tree -” he
J on yyur were . h>o.” be
pririUf Kcaule l e ' 0tl0n in inquired with
hia voice *
* she replied, “trees leave
a .car at least.”— Drake's Mag
K. -
Most ONLY a step.
People will approve of the sng
cm a. stained in the following
oat a Btep-oh
f !sn rn ay t0 i .the uitw dep-oh.
s ^ 8tee P-oh
- Jt bads to the deep-oh.
4etiSt J-r henceforth udtbe citation, call it
station.
/
ffj ■ V.
4 lwo Wheeling,
°0e sars .i'c P ersons meet
* hear
to-d'iY i bout - • Y° u that
>1 the irl A “No.” an
.V "Oh re'p, , racitwliv, "What is
; S 108 ®. t«o gross eu
,.T , r:om P“, ion in «
, l|
yySJV* A llls frleB - ,0 ‘l. 8ta,ui “Mi is
Mid is two is’nt
gross,
■r
'j
m ’ i
-• r :'*
-
N:; >•
5
-r
VOL. VII.
THE DYING YEAR,
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the fro3fy light;
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out. wild bells, and let him'die.
out the old, ring in the new;
Ring, happy bells, across the snow;
The year is going, let him gc;
Ring out the false, riftg in the true
Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
FVtr th'dse that here we see no more;
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
R.ng in redress to ail mankind.
Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life
Y itb sweeter manners, purer laws.
Ring out the want, the cang the sirt,
The faithless coldness 'of the times;
Ring out, ring out, my mournful
But ring the fuller minstrel in.
Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love^of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.
Ring out old shapes of foul disease
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace;
Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land;
Ring in the Christ that is to bo.
Tennyson.
Ted’s Christmas
It was a clear, frosty wiuter’s day.
“ Real Christmas weather,” ladies
said, as they hurried along, drawing
their warm wraps and heavy furs closer
around them, and keeping their hands
hidden cozily away in their muffs le 3 t
Jack Frost should give their fingers a
mischievous pinch.
“Pretty cold weather, 1 call it,” said
a little fellow whose bare red hands
were thrust into the pockets of his thin
jacket for warmth, and whose toes
peeped out inquisitively through the
holes in his shoes.
He stood shivering in front of a
baker’s shop feasting his eyes on the
tempting display of goodly Christmas
cheer in the window, and trying to
ed warm himself iu the steam which"ascend¬
through the grating.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if a fellow could
go in and get all the goodies he wanted,”
he thought, looking with longing eyes
at the rich cakes piled up in lavish pro¬
fusion, and the amber and crimson
jellies.
“Come, move on, there,” shouted the
baker roughly, as he saw the boy loiter¬
ing in front of his window, opening the
door just long enough to issue this order
and let out a rush of warm air, laden
with appetizing odors.
Ted obeyed slowly, giving one back¬
ward, reluctant glance, and joined the
stream of people who were hastening
along, intent on making their Christmas
“I wish it wasn’t too cold to bring
Daisy out,” he said to himself, as he
paused in front of a toy store. ‘ ‘How
she would like to see all these pretty
things!”
The window just looked like a little
bit of fairy land. There was a miniature
Christmas tree, sparkling with tiny ta¬
pers and hung with glittering toys,
while a beautiful angel hovered over it,
with outstretched wings.
Ted loved to look at this angel. It
never seemed to him like a waxen image,
but more like a real angel, who always
smiled down as lovingly and tenderly
upon the forlorn little fellow, shivering
outside the window, as upon many of
the morc fortunate little ones who were
daintily and warmly clad.
Then there were dolls in countless
numbers. Stately lady dolls, with vel¬
vet trains and powdered hair; baby dolls,
with rosy cheeks and golden curls: little
boy aiod girl dolls, dolls that walked and
cried, dolls that shut and opened their
eyes at their little mothers’ pleasure, and
last, but not least, cunning little black
dolls that were dressed as nurses, and
beamed out cheerily from the wide frills
of their white caps.
I could not begin to tell you of all the
other toys iu that wonderful window, of
the Chinese Mandarins that stood in
long rows and nodded their heads in¬
cessantly in the wisest possible manner,
ot the sheep that bleated noisily, of the
valiant tin soldiers drawn up in battle
array, looking as if they could conquer
the world. No; it would take too long
a time, so I must leave you to imagine
it all for yourselves.
Everybody seemed to like to look in
at that, window, and sometimes Ted was
pushed about and almost carried away
by the jostling, hurrying crowd; but
then he would wait for a chance and
slip back to his old position, where he
could see all the pretty things.
’•How I wish I could get Daisv some
thing for Christmas,” he thought, re
membering the little lame sister at home
who could not come out even to see the
beautiful windows. “Perhaps if I have
any luck in selling the papers to-night I
might get something,” but he checked
himself. It was rather a forlorn hope, for
out of the few pennies supper for Daisy
and 'himself must come, and then what
ever was left over must be put aside for
the rent.
“How she wonld open her eyes if I
could take home one of those lovely dolls
to her !”
“Oh, oh, oh, what beautiful things !”
cried a sweet little voice so full of enthu
siastic delight that almost everybody
turned to smile at the little speaker.
She was such a pretty little girl, with
CONYERS, ROCKDALE CO., GA„ FRIDAY, JANUARY 16,1885.
| long, golden burls Jailing over her blue
plush jacket, great blue eyes opened to
their widest possible extent at the sight
of all the lovely toys, and the sweetest
little face, with rosy cheeks, where the
dimples played hide-and-go-seek when¬
ever she smiled.
“She looks just like Daisy,” thought
Ted, as he watched her, for in his eyes
no one could be prettier than the little
sister who loved him dearly, and of
whom he took the best care that he
could. t
Poor little fellow ! He was only 13
years old; scarcely old enough, one
would think, to take care of himself,
and yet, somehow or another, he had
managed to take care of this little sister
too for nearly a year, ever since the pa¬
tient, leaving hard-working mother had died,
her in his care.
It was pretty hard work sometimes,
but if the little closet ever got entirely
empty soiae kiudhearted neighbor would
offer the children a share of her scanty
meal, and the kind Father who watches
over even the little sparrows never for¬
got them.
“Give us this day our dailv bread,”
they prayed morning, *
side by side every with clasped kneeling
with all the fervent kith hands, and
of childhood in
God’s promises, they believed that it
would always be sent to them.
“Oh, nursie. let’s go in and look at all
the lovely dolls,” cried the little girl,
drawing the nurse toward the door.
As she drew her little gloved hand out
of her dainty muff, she dropped a tiny
blue velvet pmse in the snow.
Ted sprang forward and picked it up
as it fell.
“Wait a moment,” he exclaimed, a-;
she was about to enter the store. “You
dropped something.”
“Ob, my pretty purse,” cried the
child. “I wouldn’t have lost it for any¬
thing. Thank you ever so much. Wait
a moment, nurse,” she said, as the girl
was about to hurry her on} “I want to
give this little boy something;”
“Oh, no, yon needn’t mind that,” said
Ted, drawing back.
“I would rather, though,” said the
little girl, putting a silver quarter into
his hand with a bright smile, as she
spoke, and Ted, thinking of little Daisy,
did not refuse the gift, but accepted it
gratefully with a very earnest “Thank
you.”
6 ( Now I can get Daisy a Christmas
present,” he thought, joyfully, and en¬
tered the store with the happy con¬
sciousness that he, too, poor and shabby
as he was, had some Christmas shopping
to do.
“What do tou Want, little boy?”
asked a girl, sharply.
“I want to buy a doll,” answered Ted,
not at all embarrassed by her curt man
ner.
i v Wiiat kind of a doll ?” she asked.
Ted was puzzled.
“I don’t know—a pretty one,” he
answered.
“How much money have you got to
spend on one?” she asked, crossly.
“Do you want .‘in expensive one?”
“I want, the prettiest doll you have
got for tenty-iive cents,” said Ted,
meekly, feeling chilled at her evident
unwillingness to wait on him.
“You c in’t get much of a doll for
chat,” she answered; “but I will show
yen what we have.”
Ted followed her to the back of the
store.
“Flore is a baby doll,” she said, open¬
ing a box aud placing it before him as
she spoke. Ted gave a gasp of delight.
It was such a beautiful doll in his eyes.
It was dressed in a long white dress,
with a scarlet cloak aud hood, and the
tiniest bang of golden hair showing
around her forehead.
What if it was a cloth doll ? Weren’t
its cheeks quite as rosy as its waxen
cousins’; and if the materials of its
dress were of the coarsest, what did Ted
care for that ?
In a perfect dream of delight he gave
the girl his silver quarter and watched
her wrap the doll up in paper.
“Oh, did you bay something?” asked
the little girl, touching his arm as he
was going out of the store. “Won’t you
let me see what you got ?”
Ted opened the paper, red with pride
and bashfulness, and exhibited his treas¬
ure.
“Isn’t it a beauty?” he asked.
“It’s real cunning,” answered the
child. “Who did you get it for ?” she
asked.
“For my little sister Daisy,” he an¬
swered, “and won’t she be pleased with
it, though ?” he added with a fond fare¬
well glance at it as he enveloped it in
its paper covering again.
i » You’re a nice sort o? a boy to get
your sister a present,” said the child,
with grave approval. “I hope she will
get a nice one for you. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye,” responded Ted answer¬
ing her smiling farewell.
Two whole days to Christmas ! How
j would he ever be able to keep his pre
cious secret for that length of time?
buttoned his thin jacket carefully
over the treasure and stood for a mo
*nent irresolutely on the corner, won
dering whether he would have time to
go home with it before he went for the
i evening papers.
The door of the tov store opened again
, aDd his little friend came out, accomoa
n i e ^‘Oh, d by her nurse.
there’s mamma !” she exclaimed
ag 8 he caught sight of a lady on the op
posite side of the street,
‘
“Wait! wait! Miss Flossie, you’ll be
rim over,” cried-the nurse, trying to de
tain her, but the child had slipped from
her grasp and started to run across the
street.
Jingle ! jingle ! Merrily sounded dashing the
sleigh bells as a sleigh came
around the corner. There were mingled
screams of terror from the mother and
nurse as they saw the danger the uncon¬
scious Flossie was in. Could nothing
save her ?
Suddenly—nobody ever knew just how
it happened—a smail boy, a very small
and very ragged, but surely a very brave
boy, sprang forward right in front of the
prancing horses and hung on their
heads.
Only a moment he detained them, but
that moment was long enough for some
one to snatch up the frightened baby
md save her from those cruel trampling
tioofs. Then, rendered unmanageable
by fright, the horses dashed on again
over a little prostrate form that lay uii
conscious on the muddy, blood-stained
snow.
Ted scarcely realized what he was do¬
ing when he darted forward and sprang
in front of the horses.
He had not had time to think of any¬
thing save that the little girl who
“looked like Daisy” was in danger and
be must save her. Instinctively he had
tried to stop the horses and that was the
last he remembered. He did not feel
strong arms lifting him gently into a
carriage nor the doctor’s skillful hands
bandaging his cut head and broken atm.
“It’s a miracle that the brave little
fellow was not trampled to death,” the
doctor had said, “Fortunately this cut
on bis head is very slight and with his brok¬ little
en arm will soon heal; so a
care and nursing, which I dare say the
poor child needs badly enough, he will
be all right again in a short time. ”
When Ted awoke to consciousness he
could not imagine where he was. Not
at home, surely, for he was not in the
little straw bed iu the corner of a dark,
cold room. No; he was in a downy
white bed, with the softest of pillows
under his aching head and a delicious
sense of warmth pervading his chilled
frame. He tried to move his arm but it
was bandaged and the effort hurt him.
“Are you awake yet?” asked a little
voice, and Ted opened his eyes to see
his little friend standing beside him.
ne remembered it all then.
“I am so glad you didn’t get run
over,” he said, feebly, for somehow he
didn’t feel very strong. Then, as he
thought of his treasured doll, he ex¬
claimed suddenly: “Oh, where is
Daisy’s doll? Did ifc get broken ? ”
“ Yes, it was all trampled in the mud,”
answered Flossie, gravely, “ but you
mustn’t mind that, I will give you one
of mine. ”
“But it won’t be that one,” sighed
Ted, his eyes filling with tears.
The loss of the doll seemed a much
greater misfortune to him than the
bandaged arm or the pain which made
his head throb so wearily.
“Mamma, he’s awake,” called Flossie,
softly, and a lady came in from the next
room and bent over him tenderly. A
real, warm mother’s kiss she gave him,
and in sweet low tones thanked him for
saving little Flossie’s life.
“Is the pain so bad?” she asked, as
she saw the tears standing in his great
brown eyes.
“ Oh, it isn’t that,” sobbed Ted, “but
Daisy’s doll—it is all broken, and it is
all the Christmas I had for her. I must
go home,” and he tried to sit up, but the
effort was too much for him.
“Shall I send for Daisy?” asked
Flossie’s mamma pushing back the
dark curls tenderlv from his aching fore¬
head.”
“Yes, please,” answered Ted ; and so,
about half an hour later, as little Daisy
was sitting shivering by the window
looking down into the dimly-lighted
street, and wondering why her brother
Ted didn’t come, she saw a carriage stop
in front of the house and a gentleman
get out and run lightly up the steps.
You can imagine how surprised she was
when she found that the carriage had
been sent to take her to Ted, and she
put on her‘little well-worn shawl and old
hood hastily, that she might go to him
at once.
It seemed a long time to Ted before
he heard the carriage wheels stop again
iu front of the house and knew that
Daisy had come.
“ I will go down aud see that she gets
nice and warm, and then I will send
her up to you,” said Flossie’s mamma.
Presently Ted heard the familiar
thump, thump of Daisy’s little crutch
on the stairs, and in another moment
the door opened and Daisy came in.
But was it Daisy? Ted had to fairly
rub his eyes to see more plainly.
She had on a pretty blue dress, and
her curls, as golden as Flossie’s own,
were tied back with a bright ribbon.
“Oh, you poor, darling brother,” she
cried as she saw Ted’s bandaged head,
and she threw her arms lovingly around
him.
“What a pretty dress,” said Ted,
stroking its soft folds, and forgetting all
abonl his pain in the pleasure of seeing
Daisy so comfortably clad. me,” said
“Flossie’s mamma gave it to
Daisy. “Wasn’t she kind?” and she
nestled her little golden head down be¬
side Ted’s dark curls and told him how
Flossie's mamma had said they were to
stay and spend Christmas with Flossie
and see a beautiful tree and have lovely
presents. seemed like dream to these chil
It all a
dren, who had known so little happiness.
“Now you must hurry up and get well
before Christmas, Tecldie, dear,” said
Flossie, softly stroking his bandaged
head, “and we’ll have a lovely time.”
And they did have a lovely time. I
don’t think that either of them will ever
forget it.
The beautiful Christmas-tree bore such
•vonderful fruit—a nice new suit of
clothes and a warm overcoat for Ted,
and the prettiest little cloak and hat for
NO. 43.
Daisy; and then, besides those useful
presents, there were so many others.
A lovely doll for Daisy that seemed to
be the twin sister of Flossie’s, and more
other pretty gifts than I could tell you
of. And this happy Christmas was only
the beginning of good times for Ted and
Daisy. be that Flossie’s .
You may sure papa
and mamma would not let the little boy
who had saved their only darling go
back to his oid life of poverty and hard,
hopeless work.
Daisy was installed in the nursery as
little Flossie’s playmate, and many a
lia^py hour do the two girls spend to¬
gether over their dolls and their lessons.
Ted, quite well again now, goes down
town to business every errand day wkh Flossie’s
papa. He is only boy now; but
he is very ambitious, and he thinks that
perhaps ome day, when he grows older
and wiser, he may become a clerk, and
then—who knows?—become a partner
in the business and grow rich, so that he
can take good care of sister happen Daisy.
Perhaps all this may yet.
Who knows ? But I think Ted will
always remember thi3 Christmas as the
happiest day of his life.
JTHEIR DYNAMITE MINE.
The Anarchists who Tried lo' Kill the Em¬
peror William Convicted.
The Anarchists were tried at Leipsic
for attempting to cause an explosion at
the unveiliug of the Niedcrwald monu¬
ment to Germany.
Rupsch has confessed that Reinsdorf
ordered him to fire the mine. This com
sisted of a large stone jar and a glass
bottle filled with dynamite and furnished
with percussion caps, To these a fuse
was attached, and the whole was placed
in a drain which crosses the road about
ten minutes’ walk from Niederwald. He
was ordered to fire the train when the
Emperor feet William’s carriage was fifty
distant from the drain by applying
a lighted cigar to the end of the fuse
placed at the side of the roadway,
Rupsch asserts that he was unwilling to
effect the explosion, and applied an un¬
lighted cigar.
Kuechlen upbraided Rupsch for his
failure, and the latter gave the explana¬
tion that the fuse was wet and failed to 1
light. Kuechlen then told Rupsch tc
place new tinder in the fuse and to ex¬
plode the mine when the Emperor was
returning. Rupsch returned to the
drain, fastened fresh tinder to the fuse,
but eut the fuse in two about two metres
from the charge. When the Emperoi
returned and was at the proper spot,
Rupsch applied a burning cigar to the
fuse and walked away.
Kuechlen was very angry at the sec¬
ond failure, and when the road was clear
Df people removed the dynamite to the
grand pavilion at Rudesheim, where a
concert was in progress, Kuechlen
thereupon sneaked away and Rupsch ex¬
ploded the dynamite ten paces from the
pavilion and ran away. He declares that
he only wished to see the unveiling of
the monument without expense and that
he intended from the first to frustrate
the murderous plan.
The prosecution regard the last state¬
ment and that he applied an unlighted
cigar to the fuse and cut the fuse as in¬
ventions made by Rupsch for the pur¬
pose of exculpating himself.
Reinsdorf appears to have been the
ringleader of the conspirators through¬
out. He bears himself now with the
utmost coolness—almost of tffrontery.
It has been learned that Reinsdorf has
bad dealings with Hodel, the man who
attempted to assassinate Emperor Will¬
iam in 1878, and also with Most, the
well known anarchist. He denies, how¬
ever, that he was ever Most’s emissary.
A witness named Palm testified that
Reinsdorf had threatened that any one
who should betray him would be killed
by an emissary from London or Amer¬
ica. Reinsdorf, he said, received money
from London through him. These state¬
ments of Palm were denied by Reins¬
dorf.
A constable deposed that Bachman
had confessed that Reinsdorf promised
him pay for exploding the mine. A tin¬
smith identified Reinsdorf as the man
who bought the boxes of him that con¬
tained the dynamite the found at Elberfeld.
S- ven of eight prisoners were con
vic 1 d, including Reinsdorf.
Those Troublesome Felons.
Not the convicted violators of our laws,
but the atrocious and excruciating mal¬
ady wnich may attack even the fairest
hand. A correspondent of the . Miehl -
rjan Farmer writes that they can 1)0
cured, and a trial of the alleged remedy
will at least do no harm.
1 wish to tell those who may suffer
from that terrible scourge, felons, of a
painless remedy that will effect a perfect
cure in twenty-four hours, as I had occa¬
sion to prove within the last three days.
A lady came here who had been suf¬
fering over two weeks with a felon on
the end of her middle-finger. I satura¬
ted a bit of grated wild turnip, the size
of a bean, with spirits of turpentine and
applied it to the affected part, re
lieved the pain at once. hole
In twelve hours there was a to
the bone, and the felon was destroyed.
I removed the turnip and app??ed heal
ng-salve, and the fiDger is welL
A WONDERFUL THING.
Young Artist (displaying his latest
picture )—Ya-as, art is a wonderful thing.
Why, ’of do you know that with a single
dash the brush I can change the face
of a laughing child into that of a crying
child ? art)
Old Party (who knows nothing of
\ „_E r —by hitting it with the brush ?
AN OLD REPROBATE.
lie Tells#/ tlie Trick that He PI ay *4- Upon
Ills Anxious Wile.
“You see. Martha got in the habit of
sitting up for me at an early age, and
she can’t break it off. I couldn’t per¬
suade her to go to bed and died her
own business, so I studied on th^jnat
ter. We live in one of the centre hour’s
of a block of flve-story-and-attic build¬
ings. There’s scuttles in the roofs of all
of them, and I persuaded Mr. Greenup,
who Ji^es in the adjoining house, to let
me in his house last night about one
o’clock, and I Went up through hia scut¬
tle and over to mine, and so down inter
our bedroom. I could see Martha, from
the head of the stairs, sitting in the front
room eying the clock with a look that
was a very tart chromo. But I undressed
and quietly got in bed, and there I lay
waiting developments. Every now a
then I’d hear Martha give a short, fid¬
gety cough. Then I’d hear her get up
and prance around the room a little, and
by and by go to the front windows aud
slam tbe shutters.
“After I’d lain there about an hour, I
heard her get up and go stand out oil
the front steps for a good five minutes.
Then she came in and slammed the
door and commenced coming up stews.
Every other step she’d say: ‘Oh, tho
wretch. Won’t I give it to him ! I
know where he is ! I know where he
is ! He needn’t think to deceive me 1
Oh, the villain !’ ’Bout the time she
had nearly got to the landing I think
she must have seen the light streaming;
out of the door that I’d left ajar. I
could hear her stop, and then I com¬
menced to snore. I was afraid to look,
yoii know, but I could feel her cautious¬
ly come Up to the door and look in.
Well, sir, I’d have given my pension
from the war of 1770 to have seen her
about tbe time slie saw it was me. I’ll
bet it was fun. But I was afraid to do
anything but snore v Then she came
into the room, and' by the way she
breathed and stood around, I had to>
nearly bite my tongue off to keep »
straight face on me. I could feel that
she sat down in a chair, and was dum
founded. 1 sever let on, but kept on
snoring like thunder; but when she
kicked over a chair I turned and pre¬
tended to wake up, kind of dazed like,
and says:
<< i Why, Martha, dear, ain’t yoffcomei
to bed yet ?’
< ( 6 Jarphly,’ said she, awful slow and
solemn like, ‘when did yew come in T
a t Why, ’ must be four or five hours ago.
Don’t von remember when I told you
not to go to sleep in the rocker, bwt to
come up to bed ?’ and I turned over amd
professed to go to sleep again.
“She never made any reply, but acted
in a dazed, bewildered sort of way, and
when she got to bed I could tell sho
didn’t sleep a wink for three hours.
“This morning it was fun to watchn
Martha I could hardly keep a straighfc
face. At the breakfast table, and all the
time I was about the house, she’d eye
me when she thought I wasn’t looking;
then, when I’d notice her, she’d turn
away and be awfully busy at something.
She caught me kind of grinning once,
and, by George, I thought the explosion
was about to come. But it didn’t,
though the look of blank, unfathomable*
suspicion she wore on her face all the
time was the greatest show on earth. It
nearly broke me up, and I’ve laughed
till my ribs ache ever since. I know it
won’t last. I know there’s a day of reck¬
oning a-coming, and the thermometer
is going clear out of sight in the Jarphly
family. But who’s going after trouble ?
It’ll come soon enough without hunting
it, and I’m going to enjoy that scuttle
in the roof until the explosion comes.”—
Chicago Tribune.
The Health of Women.
A PHYSICIAN WHO BAYS THEY NEED MORS
OUT-DOOR EXERCISE, AND MORE WORK,
A well-known physician was talking’
about health matters generally with a
reporter, when the conversation turned
upon the ill-health of women as com¬
pared with that of tho sterner sex.
“The principal cause of woman’s ill
health,” said the doctor, “is that they
ignore the old saving : ‘Mens sana in
cor pore sano,' The majority of women
who have passed their twentieth year
know next to nothing about the exertion
of mind and body. To begin xvith, wo¬
man is molded of finer clay than man,
and is of course more susceptible to in¬
jury. They do not observe the rules of
hygiene so uniformly as men do.”
( t Explaine matters a little more in de¬
tail, doctor.”
i ( Well, women do not eat, drink or
dress with reason. They nibble too
much. Their stomachs are constantly
at work. It is almost impossible for
that organ to secrete any chyle—that is,
the juice which acts as a dissolvent of
the contents of the stomach—so long as
that organ is at work. By this too fre¬
quent eating a rational appetite is
spoiled. Only one thing then can fol¬
low— an impaired digestion and dys¬
pepsia. health
fc c The greatest cause of the poor
of American women, however, is the
lack of invigorating employment. They
loll too much. Their brain and whole
muscular system becomes sluggish, and
at last incapable of sustaining any strain
at all. Tire need of American women
is not doctors and medicines, but ad¬
vice aud more ont-of-door exercise, more
useful employment in the house and
more Woman, interchange of ideas and opinions.
instead of being man’s in¬
ferior and the weaker of the two, is in¬
tended by nature to be the greater and
and the stronger.”
Wnvr He Would Do.—M r. Skir
ving, a Lothian farmer, immortalized in
a doggerel ballad Lieutenant Smith, one
of Sir John Cooper's officers at the bat¬
tle of Preston Pans, in which the Eug
lish were routed by the Scotch rebels.
The affronted soldier challenged the
poet to single combat at Haddington.
•‘Gang awa’ back,” was the rustic bard’s
answer to the bearer of the challenge,
“and tell Mr. Smith that I have no
leisure to come to Haddington, but tell
him to come here and I’ll take a look o’
him, on’ if I think him fit to fetch him,
i’ll fetch him, an’ if no, I’ll do as he
did—I'll rin awa.”
Protection. — In Germany a ma l
dare not cut down the trees on his own
land without consent of the proper au¬
thorities, so zealous is the government
in preserving the forests.
