Georgia Historic Newspapers

    he CONYERS WEEKLY
olume X.
ouses. resolutions
pted State.
in t hat
ATofcapitalaad capital stock
° industrial enterprise m the
neff reported by the
luring 1886 is
Jours* 1 at $129,000,000, as
66.000,000 in 1880.
F’tTthufTistranritory in this
g0 ID 11 pleasant to
tem of ours, it is
the scientists that the sun will
j, standard of heat for
itspr esent
000,000 years to come.
mia Indians are fast becoming
One of them called upon the
tie Cresent City Record a few
j threatened scalp him for
jji to
g lis name in the paper as get
■si ‘ raising row.
and a
(wetback appeared in the till of
; ’ring g0 (Michigan) following bank inscription: the other
th e
jegoes-save your salary—don’t
nevei play faro bank—the last
ne of $10,000.” Th e author of
ve very good advice.
United States consumes about
10 tons of sugar every year, and
iprises 100,000 tons of beet sugar
ope. Of the remainder Louis
,d one or two other States on the
jst raise about 50,000 tons, leav-
50,000 tons to be imported from
st Indies anr -e Sandwich Is
most novel advertising scheme
f lately was recently adopted by a
pt in Carthage, Illinois. A series
Bgious boot tracks were painted,
from each side of the public
to his establishment. The scheme,
bid, worked to perfection, for
tody seemed curious enough to fol
t tracks to their destination.
; carrier-pigeon service of Paris is
las completely organized as is the
fph system, for missives can be sent
[winged pc' messengers to neighboring
towns, and even to distant
mthe provinces. The staff num
litrained birds. The Parisians,
p terrible days of the last siege,
fie value of the pigeon post, and
Dthas not been forgotten.
lishaving so much trouble in Abys
Iwhere Rasalula recently destroyed
I the entire Italian force in that
p, that the Chamber of Deputies
proved a credit to lay a cable to
pah from the Islands of Perim,
j ril! connect with the Red Sea
tad establish communication with
And only a little more than
P years ago the interior of Abyssynia
Host an unknown country, though
■4 has had representatives at Mas
for a century.
re is an aesthetic street car con
rof Philadelphia who for the past
^rshas spent much of his spare
Ne making his car beautiful. Two
silk flags adorn the centre of
Pt and the bell rope is jauntily
(rtrh knots of brightly colored
p de takes great pride in this
| The attendants at the stables say
ps and airs his car with all the
f” a housekeeper. A sponge is
pk be seen in the car. No man on
peeps his temper better in a time
Wade.
f mperor of Russia’s dentist
'Practicing must
his science upon the im
grinders, for while he is at work
Pannes keep loaded pistols point
' 1115 head, and the Lord Chamber
ds at his side with a sabre, to
i m Ws
hand if it touches the Czar’s
At least this is the tale that
American a
teiates resident in St. Peters
to hi s f rien d s in Boston.
°ae has thrown cold ----water this
, n affirming on
that the autocrat has
681 teeth in Lurope, and
8 ever no den
meddled with them.
. --—
‘ w meetings have
111116 been held for
past in the Methodic
*eetzer, jnil ICh the Rev
£ Howard is the pastor. It would -
881 toe effects have
36 ‘Hey should not been as
be. A few nio-htc A
of the vounrr "° Jng f t ,u. created '
a disturb r a
31106 and the mn8cular
J, A, out bodily. pas
V. of the James F.
4 disturbers
***** aAnlt had the 7
and fined J7 for f aDd
Nation, the A had ’
Tw/Af fMher an- sted youn S
for profane swear
Or ? a r ’ bowarf t was arrested for
°f church doors to swim, in
. °ot, as the ae State State law 1 provMes,
e paster
* eS to raa ^ e things
' ^persecutors.
^ The whole hi
-
CONYERS. GEORGIA, FRIDAY, APRIL L 1887.
BETTER AND BRAVER.
Aye, the world is a better world to-day
And a great good mother this earth of ours.
Her white to-morrows are a white stairway,
To lead us up to the star-lit flowers—
’T''. le spiral to-morrows, that one by one
YTe climb and we climb in the face of the sun.
Aye, the world is a braver world to-day i
For many a hero will bear with wrong—
Will laugh at wrong, will turn away ;
Will whistle it down the wind with a Song
Will slay the wrong With his splendid scorn;
The bravest hero that ever was bora.
—Joaquin Miller.
OLD GRIDLEY’S GHOST*
How ‘Why, Dunham, what’s the matter?
vour band trembles! Are you sick?”
“No - not
“What ails you then? Speak out, man.
Have you been seeing a ghost?”
“To tell the truth, Maggie, I do feel
a little nervous this momma:. I haven’t
made a trip these twenty years that I
dreaded like this ”
“Seen Old Gridley again?”
“Yes **
“Pshaw! I thought that was it
Haven’t you seen him a dozen times be
fore and nothing came it?”
1 ‘This time he had his sextant»»
All this was at the breakfast table.
Dunham was mate of the Oro Fino, mak
ing tri-monthly trips between Portland
and San Francisco. He had sailed thirty
years, been round the world twice, been
Captain about six years, but lost his ship
and couldn’t get another, and so was
glad Dunham to be First Mate of the Oro Fino.
had a habit of seeing "saw ghosts,
or, rather, a ghost, for he never but
one; that was old Gridley. Gridley
was mate of the vessel on which Dunham
made trip his first Dunham’s trip as a ship-bov. That
last, was Gridley had first, but Gridley’s
sliip’s boys with a Dope’s passion for beating
a end. Gridley
was taking an observation with the sex
tant, and, as the bov was passing him
with a bucket and swab, a sudden lurch
of the ship seized threw him against the mate,
laboring Gridley bov a rope’s end, and was be
the soundly when a boom,
providentially left loose, struck him and
knocked him overboard Ever since that,
on numerous occasions Dunham had seen
Gridley’s end, ghost-usually with a rope’s
but sometimes with a sextant. He
had never been able to see any particular
fatality end. portended by the vision it with the
rope’s He had seen a dozen
times; luck and, on some occasions, his best
had seemed to follow the apparition.
Not so when the ghost with the sextant
appeared. He had seen this only twice
—once, foretop and the night before he fell from the
broke his leg; the other time,
the night before his ship was cast away.
Last night was the third time. He had
waked up and found himself lying on his
back. The room was perfectly dark; it
was also perfectly still. Dunham could
see nothing and could hear nothing.
Nevertheless, he felt that something or
be somebody was in the room that ought to
out of it. He also felt a draught of
cold air. Dunham was no stickler for
ventilated apartments, and had carefully
closed and locked the windows before re
tiring. The air could not come from
the windows; neither could it come from
the bed-room door, for that opened into
the sitting-room just opposite to a win
dow, and if the door had been open he
could have seen the window. Despite
his natural courage, Dunham was fright
ened. He raised himself on his elbow
very cautiously. He looked about the
room; he could see absolutely nothing,
He reached over to where Maggie, his
wife, slept—she was there. He moist
ened his finger in his mouth and held it
up. He could then sensibly feel the
draft of air coming from the foot of his
bed. He got up and struck a light,
he Looking over the foot his shoulder as he did so,
saw, at of his bed, old Gridley.
It would do uo good to shout aloud—his
wife would only laugh at him. He had
often waked her up to look at the ghost,
but she professed never to see it. It
would do no good to go up to the appari
tion and try to seize it—he had often
done this, and it only disappeared for an
instant to reappear in another part of the
room. So he left the lamp burning and
got into bed with his eyes fixed on the
figure. Gridley had and
This time his sextant,
seemed down busy bringing imaginary an imaginary The sun
to an horizon.
the operation completed, and seemed the figure making turned the to
bureau to be
calculation. Then he turned to Dun
ham, and shook his head negatively, and
dashed the sextant to the floor. A sud
den crack startled the mate. He had
turned the lampwick too high, and the
chimney had cracked and fallen to the
1 fl 00r
In the morning Dunham was a little
nervous. However, having taken a cup
, ! or two of strong coffee, felt more com
posed. the only child,
: ! Joev Dunham, mate’s a
boy of ten years of age, almost always ac
; companied his father on his trips. This
, time Dunham proposed to leave him at
' ! Home; but the boy seemed so disap
pointed that his father finally gave way,
and they started together down to the
steamer
< .Toev was /as perfectly at home, and while
his father busy, stole up into the
1 , wheelhouse, which had incautiously been
left unlocked. The wheelman, coming
along soon after, met Joev stealing down
; the steps, looking scared and guilty.
In an hour the Oro Fino was at the
mouth of the Willamette, and struck the
strong, full current of the Columbia,
Having more sea-room now, she began to
w strength . The flames roar
i through the flues; the engineer turns on
a full head of steam; the clear, sweet wa
W
ing Fishing wake for half . a, mile to the stern.
boats and Indian canoes glide
past her like shuttles, and before you can
fairly turn to look, are tossing and rock¬
ing on the swell many rods behind.
A black hull; supporting a cloud of
dingy-white canvas, is seen ahead, it is
the Hudson Bay Company’s store-ship,
bound for Vancouver. A flash, a cloud
of white smoke, a heavy thud, and she has
saluted the Oro Fino. A jar and a thun¬
der-clap that startles the old ones; and
sets the ladies to screaming, and the Oro
Fino has saluted her. Three cheers from
the stranger as the British flag runs up to
the masthead, and three cheers as the
stars and stripes curl and snap in the
stiff breeze from pur gaff. Now that she
has passed, and the sun falls full On her
canvass, she seems like a great bank of
*now floating up the river
^ Nearly everybody is tired of hatching
and many have gone into the cabins
to avoid the wind which is growing
chilly; and others are Composing them
s( j lves ln twos a ? d threes about the deck,
when a new and more thrilling episode
calls them all to their feet again; Dun
haul an( * two nien edme tearing lip the
staircas to the quarter-deck. The bell
tinkles, and the paddles stop.
“Man overboard!” is theory. Every
fae rushes to the stefnp every one scans
the boilln g current. “There, I see him!”
cries one. “He’s treading water!” cries
? notber * Everybody can see him now;
but b £ tb “, time tb F tremendous mo
centum of the vessel has left him a little
s P eck < \ c l'f rter of a male behind. It takes
to lower tbe boat * 1 f
off-Dunham , m the stern, and the sturdy
fiors bending the ash dangerously, “Can
be lo d °” t? “OM,yes; can’t y°u see Ham?
Rf 8 \ f ater * “No, he’s floating.”
Anyb °^ e kcepsnpbravely.” “How
slo ,Y„ he b °f Why do “. t tb ^
P ul 1? ** T fa c F * be b ° a * ™ ttln S bo
water.like>a ^ . frightened , fish and Men on the
involuntan y bent strained as
b hough they could help in that way. The
° a t ™ the floating object now only a
speck in the distance A joyful murmur
U P fvom the ship. “He’s saved!”
0h tbos ® s ‘ rong m f n! ” But Dunham
’
sheers llat the d boa bolds aroundandpicksup d hl b th only T be
a a ? S “ £ a *
f l0Dg slnce s, “ k ‘ By tha + tun ?
be tu ' ed crew we f taken f °“ board and
7 vessal , under , headway, it was dark,
S ’ *
to alongside he wharf
Tbe wlnd freshened during the night,
and b Y morning a heavy gale, filled with
salt spray, was driving reported in directly it from
the sea. The pilot that would
he impossible they to waited. cross the bar in such a
Wow. So Dunham’s pre
sentment of bad luck had been strength
ened b Y the loss of tbe man from tbe
sbi P> and he was more nervous and gloomy
than wben be left bome - So be took bis
bo Y and went ashore. He went to the
ll0use of a frlend and left Joc .Y tbere .
with orders to return to Portland by the
first steamer that should go up. He also
wrote a letter to his wife a little longer
^ an llsua l> almost two pages, and a little
more affectionate than usual. He excused
Wrnself for writing by telling couldn’t her that
the bar was ?° bad they cross,
and d was a llttle to o dull to stay there
doin ff nothing.
By ten o’clock the squall had abated,
and by noon the pilot said he thought he
could get over the bar by taking the
north channel. While the firemen were
getting friend’s up steam, house—it Dunham ran over to
his was only a few
steps—and hade Joey good-bye, and told
him to be a good boy and mind his
mother, and gave him sundry other items
of good advice which I fear the young
scapegrace did not attend to closely, be
ing engaged in the very amusing game of
see-saw with the little girl of the house,
By three again. o’clock the ship was fairly
under way By five, she was safely
over the bar, and had put her pilot
aboard a steamer which was waiting on
the outside to enter. The captain, having
been up all the previous night, went to
his cabin and turned in for the night,
The passengers were all either sea-sick or
chilled by the cold wind, and had gone
to their rooms and into the cabin. The
wheelman, by orders from Dunham,
made out Cape Disappointment and Til
lamook Head, and took his ranges from
them and put the ship on her course. He
had only time to do this when a fog
rolled up, so dense that even the light on
Cape Disappointment could scarcely be
seen. Dunham assured himself that the
ship was on the right course by going
into the wheel-house Having and looking and for
himself. done this, know
mg' the coast perfectly, he felt pretty
safe. He was a little confused and ner
vous, however, and so he went down to
the cabin and overhauled his charts, and
read the sailing made directions just before. as though
he had never the trip He
seemed to be all right. “Bring your ves
sel in range with Cape Disappointment
and Tillamook Head, 7? and then put her
about south by east. He had done this
fifty times before, and had come out all
right. To be sure that no mistake had
been made, he climbed up to the wheel
house, and quietly had asked his the man at the
wheel how he got range. He
answered promptly and satisfactorily.
Everything was according to orders. So
Dunham cursed his nervousness, and
walked back to the smoke-stack,
The wind had gone down with the sun,
but a heavy sea was running, Dunham and paced it was
as dark as Tartarus. the
deck for half an hour, then went below
to get his cloak. Being chilly he went
up to the hurricane deck and sat with his
back to the smoke-stack. Being nervous
he lit a cigar. Being careful, he walked
forward to see how things distant were moving.
He thought he heard a roar. He
| listened, and could hear a hmg. He
walked back to the smoke-stack. In ten
j minues he came forward again. He
; thought he heard the roar of the surf.
He ,.^ *• *•
“How does she stand?”
“Sou’ by east, sir.”
t 22S&S®T' He went to the paddle-box m and * signaled , " m
Plenty of water,” thought Durham, and
started the engine. He then went to the
Captain’s cabin and knocked. The
tain did not hear the first time, and ho
knocked again.
“Who’s there?”
“The mate.”
The Captain opened a port near the
head of his berth, and flskod him what
the matter was. Dunham reported. The
Captain told him it was all right; that with it
was foggy, and the roar of the surf
such a sea on and no wind could be
heard ten miles, Durham rather thought
so, too, and rvent the away. During t his
parley, minutes and while mate stopped below, a few
to look after things the
ship had made more than two miles head
way. By the time Durham got on deck
again the roar of the surf was frightful
He fairly screamed at the helmsman
1 ‘Abbott!” *
“Ay, ay, iier sir.”
“How’s head?”
“Sou’ by east, sir.”
Amazing! Dunham ran to the ps..
box and jerked a signal. The engine
stopped, Then he rushed to the Cap
tain’s door and called him out in the
name of the gods. Both flew about on it; deck,
There was no mistake there
were the breakers not half a mile ahead,
judging by the sound, thundering and
boiling against the the shore. head onshore, Dunham had and
almost run ship’s holding
that, too, when she was pre
cisely he the same course by compass that
had put her on fifty times before.
The Captain roared; “What’s her
course?”
“Sou’by east, sir.”
“Put her sou’west.”
“Sou’west, sir,” echoed the man atthe
wheel, and the wheel spun round and the
chains rattled. The Captain rushed to
the signal-bell ship and started the steering engine,
and got the under good
headway, Scarcely had she started on
her new course xvhen a scraping sound
was heard and felt—then lmmp, hunq),
hump. as though the hard ship had times; been lifted
up and set down three then
a crash that sent the captain and mate on
their faces, and brought the smoke
stacks crashing throueh the decks, and
and snapped off the topmasts like pipe
stems. The ship had struck a
rock, and began to fill at once.
Who got to shore, and how they got old
shore, matters not* It is the same
story. The news spread on wings. Men
came and dragged the swollen corpses
their friends out of the surf, or dug in them
out of the sand, or identified them the
shed, or paced the beach day after dav,
looking out on the remorseless sea that
sullenly cluncr to its dead.
The captain and the wheelman, Ab
bott, went to Portland together_Dun
ham they never found—and there they
talked over the strange affair and ex
hausted all their ingenuitv in vain to ac
count for the loss of the" ship when on
the right course on a still night. When
the wrecking-tug was ready, thev went
out to the wreck. It still hung on the
rocks. The bows were high out of water.
The two men climbed up into the wheel
house. They unscrewed the compasss-box
from its fastening and brought it lifted on
shore. There they opened it, and
up the card and needle, and there lay the
little instrument of death—a broken
knife-blade
The handle and the rest of the
were in little Joev Dunham’s pocket.
had tried to pry out the glass, to see
made the card swing around so when
held his knife by it, and in doing so had
broken the blade. He eoncealed
mischief and stole away .—Argonaut,
qieen NVwwarr i '
The present epoch is one which . .
mind of man seems to turn to the
formance of impossibilities, or what Explor
been regarded as impossibilities. the North Pole,
ers seek to penetrate
peT^t^i^alaV Fil^eFnteSg-tosS CapWn m theN? Webb
agara Rapids Dr. Tanner goes forty
days, and an Italian fifty days, wi hout
°°The latest attempt of doing something
that nobody else has e\er done, is tlia
of an Italian named Rouzam who essayed
to go three weeks without sleeping but
was speedily convicted of using decep
tion in making people believe that he got
aiong without sleep. endurance
Whatever feats of men may
accomplish, they cannot live long w ith
out sleeping. The victims of the (hi
nese waking torture seldom survive more
than ten days. These unfortunate men
are given all they wish to eat and drink,
but when they close their eyes they are
pierced with spears and awakened. I here
is no torture more horrible.
Men sleep under almost all conditions
of bodily anu mental suffering, however.
Men condemned to death—even those
who fear their fate—generally sleep the
night before their execution. Soldiers
sleep lying upon sharp rocks, and even
while on the march.
No knows just . what sleep . The
one is.
prevailing theory as to its nature is that
of the Physiologist Preyer, who_ holds
that Tefnse matter accumulates m the
nervous centres in such quantity as to
bring about insensibility, which is sleep,
and which continues until the brain has
been relieved of this waste matter by its
absorption into the circulation.
of contrast to the cases of those who seek
to do without sleep, or are often unable
to obtain it, a case is recorded by Dr. thirty- Phip
son in which a young man slept
two hours without waking.— Youth’s
Companion.
Arabic notation was introduced into
lurope in the tenth century.
A COUNTRY DRUG STORE.
H0W WHILM
c„mpo„d» ...
Beauty-Interesting Colloquy
With a E air Maiden.
The young drug clerk is alone, His
employer has gone to the city to buy
stock. There has not been a customer m
the store for more than an hour. The
drug clerk feels lonesome. He gazes
pensively out at the deserted village
street, and muses upon the vanity of all
things here below. An open book lies
upon the counter before hum It is
“Daniel _ Deronda.” Somebody has ad
vised the drug clerk to read it, and he
has been trying to do so. But he don t
like it. He is disappointed, impression that for it he be
gan it under the was a
detective story. It .makes him sleepy,
The drug clerk is a thing forever.. of beauty, He
and is calculated to be a joy with
wears a. check suit, a blue scarf a
large pin representing a mortar and pes
tie (suggestive of his devotiontobusi
I ness), and a very high collar. His nat
: Ural attractions are further enhanced by
I a large amethyst ring upon the little fin
ger of his right hand, and a blonde bang,
which long and careful training has re¬
duced to a state of complete subjection.
But see 1 the expression of gloom upon
his features gives place to a sunny smile.
He sees a maiden coming up the village
street, and he knows that the chances are
very large that she will not be able to get
past the door. He pulls down his cuffs,
and assumes what he believes to be an
attitude of unstudied grace. The door
opens, she enters, and the following dia
logue ensues: Cy?”
She—“All alone,
He—“Why! good afternoon, Addie.
Yes, things are rather quiet. Hain’t
seen you for an age.” church ' last Sun
She—“You saw me at
day.” glance)—“Well,
He days (with a killing from age.”
three away you seem an
She - “Cy Whittaker, you’re getting
worse and worse!”
He—“I know lam. Guess you'll have
to undertake my cure. Hey?” (Brief in
tennission for giggling). reading?” “Dan
She—“What are you
iel # Deronda.” “Do you like it?”
He (guardedly)—“Do you?” splendid.
She—“I think it’s perfectly
Don’t you?”
He (promptly)—“Perfectly the Methodist tea-party magmfi
cent! Going to
to-morrow (with night?” “Me? No, I
She scorn) sir;
don’t mix with that set”
He—“Kinder severe, ain’t you, Addie?
Some nice folks down to the Methodist
Church.”
She—'“Oh, yes, I s’pose there are—the
Griswold girls, for instance. I heard it
said yesterday that the Griswolds must
be a mighty unhealthy family—judging
from the number of times a week those
girls visit this store.”
He (slightly hysterical)—“He! he! he 1
Now, that amuses me. Who said it?”
She-“I shan’t tell you.”
He—“Yes, do!”
She—“I won’t.”
He—“Well, I know who it was; it was
that Higgins girl.”
She—“Perhaps it was, and perhaps it
wasn’t.”
He (insinuatingly)—“This ain’t _ the first
time that that girl has tried to make
trouble between you and me. But she
can’t influence me. And as for the Gris
wold girls, you can judge how much I
care for them, when I tell you that,
though they were round here this morn
ing urging have me said to go has to decided the tea-party,
wb at you me not to
attend it.” (Assumes an expression of
tenderness).
She—“I am sure it is a matter of m
difference to me whether you go or not.”
He (ignoring the remark)—“I think I
| shall take in the concert at the Presbyte
r j an church—that is if I can get any one
| tQ gQ w j tll me | „
, slie(utlberld demand ngslightl y ) there _«Youseemto
| be in suc ] 1 that ought not
to be any difficul ty about that.”
He-“Well,I’m a little particular about
** * Y ou would ^—
j P S L-“ 0h , Cy! Fanny Berry will be
there; and what would she say? She’d be
1 JU
dignity)-“MLss Berry’s opin
ions are a matter of perfect indifference
to me »
S he-“Well, I’ll go, Cy, and I’R wear
m y pium-coiored silk; and and you be sure to
call for me y earl _ ob) my g00 d
ness!”
He—“Why, what’s the matter, Addie?”
, she—(in great agitation)—“I forgot all
about it! Grandma has got one of her
gj- s — a dreadful one, this time—and ma
gent me rbund bere to get the old per
scr f iption all put about up (produces it, and bottle); grandma and I
orgo t poor
ma y be dead by this time. Do hurry and
*
get tbe stu g ready, Cy.”
The young man prepares the prescrip
Hon in about thirty seconds, and hurries
Ms visitor off f e i gn i ng great solicitude
for the neg l ec ted invalid. And as Ad
d ie disappears round the comer, he mur
murs:
, “Just in time! In another minute Su
s ; e Griswold would have been here.”
Then he wipes his brow with his silk
handkerchief, and adorns his features in
j one 0 f b j s mos f fascinating smiles, as he
t urns to welcome Susie Griswold, who
j en t e rs and gTeets the conqueror of all
j hearts with an ill-assumed air of indiffer
ence So'runs
the world wny.—Tid-Bits.
--w
Thirty-three vears ago the total wheat
; product of Victoria, then called Aus
I tralia Felix, was 498,7044 bushels. The j
past Wtels, season’s which^ crop will aggregated 12,000,000 5,000,000
leave
bushels for export. The average yield
j per acre in that country last season was j
j twelve bushels. J
NUMBER o.
THE PERENNIAL DOW DAYS.
Why the Old Sian Became Ieeane o» the
Train
As we sailed <3 owd from Syracuse I
asleep, but the old gentleman sitting
side me grew so restless and fidgety that
he roused me. In the seat in front of us
a lady and gentleman were carrying on
one of those intellectual conversations
that are evidently intended for the
car, and tend to make travel such fl
pleasure to a man who has just
from the asylum. I lost the
chapters of the dialogue, but it was evi
dent the lady wanted to buy a “dawg,”
and the gentleman knew everything
about “ dawgs.” She wanted a setter.
“Red or liver colored?” he asked.
“Oh,” she didn’t care; just so it was
handsome setter, “I do so love a beau
tiful setter. And I never had one,
I just long for one.”
“Well,” he said, “they are dogs.
dogs. I couldn't live without
There’s something so loving about
d °g-” ..
“So human," she said, “so more
human. There is nothing in all this
devoted as a dog’s affection 11
so .
“That’s so. A dog’s love is
unselfish. If you feed him, he loves
if vou beat him, he still loves you.”
“Oh!’’ she cried, “how can
1>eat a dog! I hate a man who can
crue i to a dog.” d shoot
“So do I. I a man m a
ute if I saw him kick one of my dogs
have seven dogs. ” must be.
1 ‘ Oh! how happy there you isn’t .
“Yes, and a room in mj
house too good for those dogs, and
know it too. You know my big blac
Newfoundland, St. Augustine Le
I paid one hundred dollars for mm.
Well he sleeps in my room aud
he climbs right up on my bed and
there.’
“OA/ isn’t that too cunning for
thing!” dogs live all the
“Yes, my wife has three over dogs ot
Then my
own, that makes ten altogether - It
like a good many.” couldn’t
“But yet you spare one.
“Oh, no The house would seem lone
ly without them. They always
me when I come home; they re alway
glad to see me. Last spring when
Siberian bloodhound Charlemagne died
I thought my wife would go wild. S a
cried herself into hysteria, and went
bed; gave up society, put I on couldn mourning t eal
and locked the piano
anythinpr myself for days. I felt
though I had lost a son.’
“You have children, haven t you, Mr.
Kennelthorpe?” have three, two boys #
“Oh,yes; I
a girl—no, two girls—no, no; what am
I thinking of? They’re all girls,
Here the old gentleman collared
and dragged me furious y into
ing car, where he backed me up against
the wood oox and held me fiercely by
the collar.
“That’s the cause of hydrophobia, he
howled. “That’s the land of stuff
makes a man mad! The bite of a
dog is healing balm after such rot
that! One hundred dollars for a g
Buy all the curs that ever yelped.
can buy one hundre l dogs for one
lar. and then I’d on y keep one and 1
kill him! Am I right.
I feebly ► aid, “Amen,
“You are saved; he said, relaxing
hold, “and now let us sit down
smoke one of the train boy s non -
bustible cigars, for I must nerve
to deed of awful justice ”
a
“What is t you 11 do!
“I am going to kill that man when
gets off the train, and at the same
you will kill the woman, or I shall
Y ou ’
when got to Utica . they , ,
But we
the old gentleman off and took mm
the asylum. And I was the only
on the train who knew what drove
mad. Bobkrt J. Burdette.
Hbnbv Flowers, 14 vears old,
Jefferson Ind has a most outrageous in
auDerite irtinsville, The other night, at a hotel
M the landlord agreed to give
him . .square nu*1 f-55 cento
[wl, pieces P of co?n bread! two roasted largi
9bces 0 f bee { two large slices of
) sUw^o^dish^
£°ans onTdKf and
hominv “ b?e one dish of parsnips, two
P of He then went to a
nd ea t seven potatoes, three slices
bread two slices of roast beef, two
0 f co g ee one dish of tomatoes, one dish
of butter beans and two pieces purchased of pie.
Then he wentto a btkery and
ten cent8 > WO rth of cheese and crackers
and ate them. '1 he boy is very lean and
0 t i egs than the average height for his
age be j nr , on ly about three feet high,
flnd weighing about forty pounds. His
skin is thick and yellow, his
hollow and sunken, and his eyes give hun- an
unmistakable proof of his constant
„ er wb j c h he evinces on all occasion*
’
The beggars of Ron e, it is
receive $2,000,000a year, and 500 are
to be worth from $15,000 to
each.
p-Aons . toWniariai Tnfeetian.
whose blood is thin, digeaMon weak
. , jver B 5„ Kg i 9 h, are extra-liable io he ut
ta „ kg ot ma iariai disease. The most trifling
exposure may, under such conditions, infect a
8 ysfem which, if healthy, would re iitthe inl¬
a , m „tic ta'nt. Theonlywaytosecureimmu
n itv from malaria- in localities where it is
!lF™»ovi^^ |)j who!es->rae impetus to
e biood. serretion. These a res ilts areacc-nr
biliary m?J.h e nT experience"
!! i 1 5 Bmera? g which h ha?
t 0 refiahle saf^gvatd
proved to be the meat jf-wdred
against fever ^oveLaT^eU^.Unvtgoranfo. and ague and
thp organs of uriimtion,
''" t ’ rt”i" a lmf fr Ti inLe rheumatic aii
a ch e
uie nt».