Newspaper Page Text
VOL. XIII-
HUNTER’S moon.
THE
frosty I ir usage iiils t!i? -"ir,
A ; os t in hr.”9, and soon
The hill® are full and fair,
m00n -
tue woonriss she will come
d . old,
A “ c^rJenpaths we knew of i
slaired flowers lie numb.
Si withered red and love-confessed gold;?. i |
save tie flower of j
All that bolds us most m-tfar
The b io„® faithful breast
this within her i
Doth spring p erennia!.
• e ‘oh hunter’s tioon, and grace
earth with thy silvery booh ,
T. pi li"ht oii thou bring’st—her moon! face—
hunter's LesUe’s.
Clinton ScollarA, in Frank
■;j HELEN.
OWDY! ’Tis no
Wm word for it—too
genteel by half.
We were as wicked
w- ^ a set at our dig
J • gin’s as New South
““V " rjr/ “ Mg " '.VvL' Wales slight could thing, show
—no
If the world’s ket
He had been set on
’•A the boil we’d have
ome to the top as prime scum—truth,
no lie, mate. But among us was
B mail dubbed “the Squire,” because,
lie fared like the rest of us,
•oileil lived and dressed that in just him which as we
liil, yet there was
(tamped him as of quite a different
Iwsl. Swells out of luck are to be
'oiratlbr the bushel in Australia; still,
tl M ver came upon his double before
[r Ibsronet since. Rumor went England, that he but was had a
at home in
ib.vn forced to cut and run; so he tried
Yew South Wales and the gold dig
tin’s, bent on succeeding.
" did live alone; his daughter
He not
was with him, though how and when
she reached him none knew ; she had
reached him, and bore her strange life
as best she might. They dwelt in a
email shanty in the midst of many
pines, a poor, rough place, far apart
from the other huts; a queer frame
[for such a with stately tire picture superior of a woman bear
i—a ling lady, hersfather. same I’d walked
visible in
Unit way with the Squire once, and she
U out to meet him. Tho sight of
ier Ejected struck me all of a heap, so nuex
in the lonely spot, where there
»as no other company than the bright
Kinged birds, no other sound than the
rtir of the windy trees. She was tall,
(he color of wild roses in her cheeks,
eaven’s blue in her eyes. Her dress,
ark and close-fitting, had none of the
.ashy ornaments that women such as
f e take up with cram on; her
biled smooth about her head, shone
be black satin.
lear,” “This is one of my—chums, my
lice said “the Squire,” with hissoft
and his hard smile.
Ig ■Since then, I had hung about
Itched'water, house often, labor ended.
lots, got iu sticks, cleaned
or did such odd jobs which j
terenc't &t for her, and said no word;
rut sha found me out in a brace of
hakes, and grew used to and was
hankful for such help as I could give,
nowing that I meant no harm,-though i !
startled her at first—a great Orson
fa chap in mv rough gear. -j
One evening I came on her watch- !
ig in the gloaming. How eerie it
ss underneath the trees; the wind [
lughed through the branches, bring
ig a dash of rain; a deluge was in the •
jtaekclouds i‘‘I sweeping about across the father,” sky. j
lie am anxious my
said, looking like a tall white lily 1
at somehow had been shoved into j
a wrong pot, and touching my big j
rtli-stained fingers with her fine, \
a hand. “I am always anxious
out him; though, since knowing
a, I have not felt so absolutely die
«Hl, for I am glad to recollect that
a are within his call. You would
md between him and harm, I
ink.”
“Why, yes, Miss; make yonr mind
>y on that score; ’twould be done
thawi’il. But what harm is like to
me, that you need flurry?”
“Yed!” she cried, stopping sud
nly, (her father always called me
l» “I liad such a curious dream last
ght. I dreamed that I went down
to the little valley beyond the wood,
■i there I saw my father Iving on
* grass sound asleep-so soundMhat
fonld hof not wake him; while the clus
wild flowers sprang up so high
pt they hid him and I heard the
Pesin the distance chanting a sol
to kind of litany. I was erving
ben I woke.” '
“You are too much alone, Miss, and
0 w nervous.”
tely, ‘My father has been very fortunate
has he not?” she asked,
‘He has had some good finds, miss;
d toMay fi e got hold ol two jolly big
I am glad. Will he bring them
•me this evening?—What’s that?”
p ^ sprang to the door, flinging it
pn, the shine of the lamp behind
F r - “Dearest father!” she cried, “is
yon.- ’ But she broke off, alarm in
^ voice: “Ned! Ned!” for no father
w t—scamps there, hut two of the worst of our
for whom hemp was grow
g; the one a blackguard sailor; the
h « ^«tish, slimp chap, thin,
rk, lying.. His name was -Phil
iviidb
HH M-l a tl
Our Paitli: Pure Jeffersonian Democracy.
CONYERS, GA.. WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 29. 1893.
I remembered now, as I saw. him by
the flash of the light, that he as weil
ns I, lin'd beet, near when “the Squire” |
held up the two great nuggets; and it .
•struck rue—I’m quick at conclusions— t
that both scoundrels liatl not intended !
to come up to the house, but wore just -
lurking round—Wliftt lor ?
Miss Helen—I only knew her hv her
Christian name then—faced them
steadily, though she had called me to \
her, and asked what they wanted.
“Why, nothin’ in special, miss,”
stammered Dawlish, lifting his ragged
straw hat with swellmol) politeness and
a leer which made me tingle to kick
him; “on’y, is the old Boss at home?
J—I mean your pa, iniss>” he translated,
“No,” site replied, nodding her head
high, to show she was not frightened ;
but I, being close to her, could hear
her heart thudding like a hammer,
while the blood flamed to her brows
under the foul gaze roving over her.
“Why dp you ask?” •
“Just this, mum. Will you he as
good as tell him that me and my pal’s
off to Hulton’s Ranch for a short spell,
and if he’d like to tramp over—why,
’tis a mighty .’andsome part’o the
country, and he’d be welcome, that’s
all.”
She shut the door upon them, draw
ing a stout bar across it, “Are those
the men he works with?” she cried,
flinging up her hands. “Heareu help
us!”
I J was casting round for another job;
j when she stayed me by asking il 1
I would go to meet her father. ■
• “But you—” little
1 “Nay; I do not mind. The
house is secure. Why,” with a wist
ful smile, “I am always alone from
daybreak until dark.”
I knew it was the fact; so, bidding
her open to none until -she heard me
or “the Squire” whistle, I started on
my errand.
j Not very far had I to go, f6r I met
! him in that same little ravine of which
| his daughter pinewood. had His dreamed; pick it skirted his
j the was over
shoulder, his right hand in his pocket
—feeling the nuggets, perhaps. He
was singing a song in some foreign
i lingo, Italian or Spanish. He looked
more content than I had seen him—
, more at rest, nodding to me in his
j patronizing fashion. After a few stray
| words', I related what had guard. happened,
■ advising him to be on his
“Thanks, I will,” he replied, haught¬
ily, amused at the scamps asking him
to pay a visit in their company. “But
I’ve a seciet to tell yon, Ned, he
! added. “I have done with Green Val
| ley Creek, and shaken off its crew.
Luck has favored me beyond my hopes,
1 I can afford to turn my back upon it.
I shall take my daughter to Mel
bourne. I.have thought of settling
As ho spoke, the little tie of com
radesKip between us shattered; in a
moment we were sundered as the poles,
so quietly ho brushed it away.
“You were always an honest fellow,
Ned—a trusty creature! Bo surethat
you come to-morrow; my daughter
will like to shake hands with you be
fore she leaves;” and he went on gay
ly through the rich, thick grass.
No rest was mine that night ; evil
was m the air. Bo, as I could not
sleep, l got up and went out. Not
being a fool—I knew I must keep my
misery to myself! but my life was
empty! empty! You see, 1 was hard
hit, mate, like the donkeys. What
was Miss Helen to me? What could
she ever have been to me?—a lumber
ing, vagabond chap, not worthy to
kiss the dust she trod on.
But I must go back and watch the
house that covered her for this last
night, so I returned to t)ie ravine. In
it were many little dells swarming
with the wild flowers of the grand
Australian spring. Now, in one of
these same dells what do you think I
saw?—a dead man’s face. Yes, I knew
at once that he was dead; but so eas
ilv “the Squire” rested on tho wet moss
that the song I had heard him singing
might still have been on his lips. His
pockets, turned lining outward, were
empty. Snatching up his fallen pick,
I tore on to the log house, knowing
well whom I should find there. My
long, sharp knife was iu my belt. I
raced round to the back; the little
kitchen door was.undone; the fiends
iu possession had small fear of inter
rnption. They were in “the Squire’s”
bedroom, making free with some whis
kv which he had’kept in a cupboard.
Where was Miss Helen ? .
I found her in the sittingroom, tied
her chair, her lips bleeding over
her white teeth; the cursed hounds
' had struck her. “There are three of
them," she whispered; “those two
, who came and another man. They
watched for my father, and murdered
him-they told me so. Hark ! they
are coming. Ned, they have pistols,
and will shoot you where you Btand.
Go away this 'instant—only—kill me
first;” and she lifted her white pillar
of a throat.
“Now. my beauty, "roared a drunken
voice through the thin partition,
“we’re bringin' vou a cup o’ whisky
to drink our ’ealths in. : Ain’t you
longin’for us to make love to ye?
We'll stow away the rhino first, and
shall have your turn.’ ^
then—yon ’ I whispered back to
“Be quiet, the
I her, hacking at seconds I had her
knife; and in a few
out of the chair, and we dashed out
of the house together. until . the last tree
[ On and on and on
was at our backs. Then we made for
a lane which led to Johnson’s tavern,
leaving the yells faint in the distance ;
there we stopped, and there she told
her tale.
News spread quickly at the diggin’s,
and Judge Lynch is for immediate
action. Before noon the stolen gold
—including the two big nuggets—had
been recovered, and a couple of fig
ures dangled from an oak by the way
side.
As soon as it was possible Miss Helen
started for Melbourne, whence she was
to set sail for England, where she
would join her mother’s relatives—
very heavy swells indeed, I believe.
And I followed her iu secret every
inch of the way, though she knew it
not until I stood by her on the deck
of the steamer, after I had helped to
stow her boxes safely in the hold,
Then I blurted out that I hoped she
“would not he offended at my coming,
but”— And then I shut up.
“Ned!” she cried, “brave Nedt
dear, kind, good Ned ! There are
debts which can never he repaid, and
I am your debtor always—always,
Ned!” and holding out her hands to
me, she bowed her lovely head upon
my big, brown fists and sobbed.
. “You are very welcome. Miss
Helen.” I spoke with a quiet voice,
“I wish—I could have been a gentle
mnn for just a little while, so that I
might have served you better. ”
■ “A gentleman!” she cried, lifting
j her face, and looking full at me, and
then she raised thdse hard fists of mine
to her soft lips and kissed them. Yes,
! she kissed them—and I!—how was I
to help it?—the touch of those soft
lips broke me down smash. Yet she
was not angry—not offended, She
put out her little hands to mo again,
meaning—I knew it—both to silence
and to comfort me. She did not'
speak—for what could she have said—
what could any stately lady such as
she have said?—besides, the steamer’s
engines were puffing, and time was
up. She laid her head down on my
arm a moment, and then left ine with
a rain of pitying tears. passed
When the vessel had com¬
pletely out of sight, and its long
smoke line had died out from the skv,
I hurried back to Green Valiev Creek,
and took up my work again. Hard
work is the best friend life has for us,
sometimes.
But I have never forgotten Miss
Helen—I never shall forget her; and
I’ve trudged to the old ’ spot often and
stood before the empty house.
That’s my story, old- chappie; we’ve
each our own, of one sort or another.
—Chambers’s Magazine.
, Depth el the Ocean.
A dispatch _ from victoria, . ritish
Columbia, says the United (states
t steamer Albatross reports having made
deep-sea soundings oil the coast of
[Alaska, reaching a depth of of
1 greatest fathoms, depth which, over it is reached. added,, is it the by
that is meant the deepest soundings
ever made in any ocean there must be
a mistake in the figures reported oi the
claim is not correct. The depth of
20,000 feet has been exceeded three
times, In what is called the “inter
national deep, ^ sear the island o Bt.
j Thomas, one of the Most Indies, inde
i pendent soundings were mai e >y
American and English officers and a
depth of 27,36(5 feet established. In
1874 the British ship Challenger found
a depth of 27,450 feet near the La¬
droim Islands in the Pacific Ocean, and
in the same year the United Brutes
ship Tusearora, under command oi
; Captain George E. Belknap, sounded
to the depth of 2i,930 feet near the
Kurile Islands iu the North lacihc.
This is the lowest point yet reached,
being over five, and one-fourth miles,
or nearly equal to the height of the
Himalayas. In the days before scien*
tific deep-sea soundings there were le
ports of depths of (000 to 8000 iatli
, oms having been reached, but these
are now conceded to nave been
apocryphal. The 1 usearora s record
of 4561 fathoms stands without a rival
as yet. Cie vcland I-’lain D oaiei.
^
A “Petrifying Spring” in Georgia,
The recent accounts of the wonder- ,
fu l )ro l* el ' les ° “ cera L
j Black Hills country, which ,. , is . said , to .
transform p an s, nu j, ease , am
even flesh, into solid stone reminds
me that there is a spring in rooks
County, Georgia, which in a very short
time converts wood and several other
substances into hard rock. The peculiar
qualities of this Georgia fountain have
j Been known since early in the century,
| lost when his an knife old m b l the hunter basin, accidentally which has
! hollowed of the granite strata
been out
by the ceaseless bubbling of the water.
I A month later the old trapper again
j ’ably repaired surprised to the spring to find and his was favorite agree
[ knife. The water had had no effect
; upon the bright steel, not even to the
| extent with the of wood leaving of the a speck knifes of rust, handle but it
1
; was far different. Ihe petrifying
! particles with which the water is so
highly impregnated had entered every
| pore and sap-tube m the wood, and
j what was but a few- weeks before a
j hickory handle of “home-make ' was
two thin slabs of solid stone,
“vkldiaz in armearanee Sn but as hard
and nnynel.lm as. chip fromaaramte fan a J
bowlder known as Loja urn Mwtea Moo^’s ijaiuymg ’et H^ing
Spring. bt. Louis Republio.
A CHOCOLATE FACT
WHAT COCOA xs AND HOW IT is
MADE.
The Raw Product Comes Kr ora Ven
eziH'la and is of Matty Dilierent
IvtiuN -Cocoa Hut ter.
T Hr. , T ri biggest , chocolate , j. factory , , ■ ;
m this country is m New
York. It uses 100,000 pounds
V* of the beans in a year. They
are not at all pretty to look at. From
their appearance one would never sup¬
pose that such delicious preparations
could he made from’ them. A Lost of
them come from Venezuela. The con¬
cern described ordinarily keeps iu
stock as many as fifteen different kinds
of them. Varieties differ so much in
quality that prices paid for them run
all the way from fifteen cents to
seventy-five cents a pound raw. Fine
chocolates are made from a mixture, of
tlu> different sorts of beans in carefully
adjusted portions, a few pounds of the
best in each hundredweight ° contribut
mg . r r, a^oi. ,
The broken chocolate kernels, duly
mixed, are poured into a hopper on
tho seventh floor. They tall through
m metal tube all the way down to the
first floor of the building. There they
drop into a machine which grinds
them between two great steel disks
revolving horizontally in the fashion
of a mill. 1‘ roru this mill they come
out by a spout—not dry any longer,
hut in the form of a thick liquid. This
is because the beans contain forty-five
per cent, of oil. The cells holding the
latter are broken by the grinding
process, and the oil liquefies the pow¬
dered substance.
The processes by which the beans
are transformed into commercial choc
olate are very interesting. To begin
•with, they are roasted. Then they are
broken in n mill, coarsely. Next,
they are sifted. The shells separated
from the kernels by sifting are sold for
half a cent a pound to wholesale gro¬
cers, who grind them up to adulterate
pepper with. Incidentally to the same
jiroeess the vegetative germs of the
beans are removed. It is desired to
get rid of them because they nre too
liard to be utilized to advantage; but.
they are purchased by manufacturers
of cheap candies for making a poor
quality of chocolate. Each germ looks
somewhat like a little clove. All of this
work is performed on the seventh floor
of the factory
The chocolate beans are called
“cocoa beans. ” The liquid stuff,
what thicker than molasses, is termed
“cocoa.” It is transformed into the
chocolate of commerce simply by add
ing'sugar. -It is commonly imagined
that cocoa is made from the shells of
the beans, but such a notion is ab
surd. What cocoa is really will be
presently-explained. The liquid stuff
is transferred to a circular receptacle
on which huge rollers go round. Then
sugar is put in. The rollers mix the
cocoa liquid aud the sugar thoroughly
together. When this has been done
the mixture is passed through other
machines with rollers'revolving against
each other. it goes through them
again and again, until it is so finely di
vided that there is not tho smallest
lump in it. Now it is finished and lias
merely to be cooled in molds in the re¬
frigerating room in order to be ready
for sale.
Commercial cocoa is exactly 'the
same thing .. . as chocolate, ii, without ... any
sugar, and with two-thirds of the oil
taken away. Hence, m a dry state,
it has little more flavor than so much
dust. By subjecting the liquid stuff to
pressure the oil is squeezed out of
Of the original forty-five per cent, of
oil thirty per cent, is extracted, leav¬
ing only fifteen per cent. This oil is
caught in tubs. It is clear and lim¬
pid—almost as transparent as water,
Poured into molds it hardens when
cold, and is thus turned out in the
shape of great cakes of a yellowish
white color. These cakes are sold to
apothecaries aud other dealers. They
are pure “cocoa butter. ” To a great
extent this soothing and deliciously
fragrant substance has taken the place
of the old fashioned cold cream. It is
admirable for sun-burned noses and
for chapped hands. In South America
the natives have recognized its virtues
for many centurieH.
Cocoa butter, obtained from the
chocolate factories, is sold by the ton
wholesale. Itisa useful aud profit
able by product of this sort of maim
facture. But how about the cocoa?
It comes out from the pressing appa
ratus in the form of dry cakes. These
are reduced to powder beneath rollers,
and the powder is then sifted through
cloth to an impalpable dust. Now it
is ready for market and is poured into
a machine which fills cans with it auto
inatically. The cocoa butter is put to
another use. Some of it is added to
the chocolate that is employed for
coating creams and other candies, be
causes it makes the flavor richer. The
chocolate tablets for nickel-in-tlie-slot
machines are made iu molds and set in
the refrigerating room to harden,
Some people make a sort of tea out of j
eocoa beans and recommend it highly,
The factory described uses most of
its chocolate m making candies and |
the greater part of that for coating ;
?rcams and nuts. The way in which '
the creams are made is very odd. A
shallow tray of wood is filled with ,
finely sifted flour. Upon the smooth
,°/ t «J, **-»£? * S
with excrescences in whatever shapes
may be desired. The board being r«
moved perfect molds of the excres¬
cences are left in the flour. A inim
her of such trays of molds having been
provided, the workman goes along
with a cone of canvas tilled w tli
“cream,” ’ which is simply sugar and
am , flavored, At the
point of the cone is >t small copper j
spout, through which the operator
squeezes enough cream into each mold
to till the latter. Now it only remains |
for the stuff to harden, and the trays |
are dumped into a sifter, thus separat
mg the molded cream drops from the !
flour.
The cream drops next pass into the
hands of a young woman with deft
fingers, w ho drops them one after an¬
other into a copper pot filled with hot
chocolate. As she fishes them out
again she places them iu rows upon
sheets of waxed paper, which cover
rectangular pieces of tin. To each oue
f , ul « lv f 11 tod , touch, , , as she , sets it
down, by a twirl of her lingers, whicn
makes a sort of curlvciie of chocolate
on the top of it To llo this properly
| . eqUit . es grcat dexterity, though one
W(mW imag j ne that the entire process
was extremely simple and easy. It is
‘
• t the sama if pepperm iuts are to he
chocolate-coated, or marshmallows or
nnts When finished in this manner
t]l0 lolljpope are placed, tin trays and
u p on shelves in a sort of cabinet
on to u erg . Here each trayful is care
inspected by the foreman, who
]nn ^ t aee that (;vev . y 8Ugftr plum isper
fect _Washington Star,
Cashmere Slmivls.
One day we went to town to visit a
manufactory of Cashniere shawls. After
a terribly unattractive approach, we
again clambered up some stairs and
emerged into a large room, full of
looms, with about forty men all hard
at work. One we especially watched.
He had in front of him nearly a thou¬
sand shuttles of different shades, and
out of these he would select one
and thread it through as many of the
fine strands stretched tightly before
him as his pattern directed, and after
so doing he pulled toward him,a heavy
bar, which pushed the last little cross
thread quite . tight, before putting . m .
the next.
Iu old days oue man used to read
| ou *- Bie h pattern to all design the rest, slip but
j no '’' ' v <4ftC iu front own of him. It on is a said
j paper
Biat the wavy line, so oi ten seen m
1 H>ese shawls, was originally taken
i * l ‘ om the curves of the -Thelum. It
* of d £ f° nr months, we wei'e told, fin¬
, this
5 111011 do seven inches ot
: work, one yard wide, working from
j ® in Bie day, morning it til) was 5 in hnrdly the evening to be
| every so
I wondered at that two yards should
cos * nearly $u0(t.
1,6 * he workroom, so glad to
exchange its heated atmosphere for a
I cooler breath ol air, it was thought impossible of tho
i L-lieclc the obvious
: contrast such lives are to our own.
"' e mingled with the gayly-dressed
C1 ’°wd gathered to see a polo tourna
ment, and our- thoughts strayed back
to tjiat stifling room, with its ceaseless
monotony and perpetual grind, where
men,, more like machines, wove hour
after hour varying linos oi color into
one harmonious whole, And yet the
old simile would also assert itself,
that we too, in one sense, are hour by
h working “ in the tiny threads that
b t( , mak<> the , at t er u and color
y The whole design, how
doeg not lie opea ‘ before us, but
. mel . cifull withh ld , )y au a ll-w, 3 e
Mflster hand]-The Cornhil! Magazine.
Beer Caught for tlie C'atskill Pa-k.
Speaking of the results of his at
tempts to capture deer for the Cats
kill Park, Game Warden Fox said to
an Albany (N. Y.) Argus reporter:
“We, employed a little different
method from any of those hitherto
known to get the deer. After they
were driven in the lake a boat would
put out, and, after firing two shots as
a signal for help from the other forest
era, the men would row up and slip a
sort of noose made by twisting to
gether two Y-like branches at the end
of a pole over the head of the swim¬
ming doe. In this way it could bo
held till help arrived, Then the men
in the second boat turned it on its
back and tied all four feet
lifted it out on a boat, and there it
was secure and unharmed.
“I do not know just how many will
be sent down altogether, hut I think
there will be a herd of at least sixty
five in the. C'atskill reserve, aside from
the three dozen or so now loose in the
woods. This is tho breeding season,
and although it is not a fact, as many
suppose, that does always bear twin
fawn, though they generally do, I ex
poet to find about ninety or a hundred
deer iu that park next spring. At this
rate it will not be long before there
will be plenty of deer in tho Catskills
again.” shipped
Those twelve does were
through Albany win the National Ex
nrefss, m crate*, and will be placed in
the park at one._
'■* —
The little island of Malta has a
language of its own, derived from tho
Carthaginian ami Arabian tongues.
The nobility of the island speak
Italian.
NO. 44.
THE SILENT BATTLE.
Shall T tell you about the battle
That was fought in the world to-day.
Where thousands went down like heroe*
To death iu tho pitiless frayi 1
Yon may know some of the wounded
And some of tho fallen when
I tell you this wonderful battle
Was fought in the hearts of men
Not with the sounding of trumpet!
Nor clashing of sabers drawn.
Bid. silent as twilight in autumn,
All day the light went on.
And over against temptation
A mother's prayers were east
That had come by silent march*
From tho lullaby laud of tue past.
And over tho Hold of battle
The force of ambition went
Driving before it. like arrows,
The children of sweet content.
And memories odd and olden
Came up through tho dust of years,
And hopes that were glad and golden
Were met by a host of fears.
And the heart grew worn and weary
And said “Ob, van it be
That I am worth the struggle
You are making to-day for me?”
For the heart itself was the trophy
And prize of this wavering tight!
And tell me, O gentle reader,
Who cainns on the Held to-night?
- Alfred Ellison.
111'Mbit OF THE OAY.
Kisses arc the coupons of love.
Don’t be a valet to your hero; it
may disgust him.
The most lovable of dumb animals
is a good listener.—Puck.
After all, the love knot is the top¬
knot on the head of human happiness.
—Puck.
A cynic observes that tho most popu¬
lar air with the girls these days is a
millionaire.
A girl will never forgive a fellow
whom she has jilted for making a suc¬
cess of life.—Puck.
When a man gets a hearing in court,
he is likely to hoar something that ho
doesn't like.—Puck.
She told the young mnn oftentimes '
She really couldn't love him: *
Six feet, she but live feel, hs — %
Of course she foil shove him.
Ket roll Tribune.
Solemn Stranger—“All flesh is
grass.” Deaf Man—“Hoy?” Solemn York
Stranger—“No, grass.”—New
Press.
The bulldog has a pretty tight grip
in this world, though he often escapes
trouble by tho mere skin of his teeth.
—Truth.
Gunson—“Another increase in youi
family, eh? Son or a daughter?
Bilbee (gloomingly)— “Hon-in-iaw.
Kato Field’s Washington.
“I’ve come out of this tight squeezi
in pretty good shape,” said the new
half-dollar, fresh from the stamping
machine. —Chicago Tribune.
“Man wants but little liere below,”
But ’tis tliis fact that daunts
He’s sure to got a little less
Xhau the littletlnit he wants.
—Washington Star.
Some of the fashionable schools ars
making world-wide reputations by
teaching the young lady students to
spell their names wrong.—Galveston
News.
In the American Colony: She—“Is
Miss Bond engaged to Prince Sans,
sou?” He—“Not exactly. He has ac
option for ninety days, I believe. —*
Harlem Life.
When a woman has quail for dinnet
she wants to invite in a neighbor, ss
the neighbor may know it, but a man
doesn’t want anybody there but him
self.—Atchison Globe.
Customer (in bookstore) good book on “I faith, wo1 ’^
like to get some rule it to
derk—“Sorry, sir, lmt our
sell nothing to strangers except for
cash.”—Buffalo Courier.
Miss Newcombo- ‘ ’Seems to be ratbei
a good year for fruit, flileu t
all your trees as full of apples as that
one! Giles—“Ob, naw, miss, only.
the apple trees.”—Judy.
He bad a sorrel trottiug-lmrse a
Which was so pesky slow
He named him Chinese, after a while.
Because be wouldn’t go, Free Press.
Detroit
Van Noodle-“D’yer know, Miss
Tungbit, that oil duffer Chupwith
called me a iniifl the other night
Miss Tungbit—“Indeed? Why, 1 thmk
you more closely resemble a boa. —
Brooklyn Life.
Jack (who has popped)-—“It takes
you a long time to decide.” Nettie—
“I know it; and I’ve about concluded
50 wear a demi-train of white chiffon
JV ,. r white silk and have n» brides
maids. ’’--Texas Kiftiugs.
^j rK jjyj uf) ( B f P . r the company had
; ODt , __“Johnny, yon shouldn’t have
j l aioa those preserved fruits. eaten. They They
| WI . T( , n()t intended to be Johnny
the (able to fill up. ”
: v.i-ro puton
< _“Well that’s what / used ’em
r or> mamma. ’—Chicago Tribune,
j ’ ’ , ,, ir( „
f iia |f a sovereign and
« .v 4» iu iei
£** . e ( t lf( rv
tu
anxious, . , ia , m ; 0 < nr * nT1 n 4,.
>
. . • •
into the rive . >
shore, h o t
.tanva * .
off, Jim none o , yer divm^iii altel
aro ,
***** 1