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THE WIVES OF THE DEAD.
The voice* of the dead I
How Mranjrely they pursue tin,
On highways, or in byways, wherever we ar«
led;
Though in soft and gentle accents
They always whisper to us,
iet louder than the living are the voices of
the dead.
The voices of the dead.
To our better selves appealing.
Admonish us, and urge us to forsake the evil
way:
Their thought of us and care of us
So tenderly revealing.
That often for their sakes alone we cease to go
astray.
Mysteriously they come
Our memories to quicken,
When the present would b ‘guile us from re
membrance of the past.
And underneath the smiles
The tears begin to thicken.
All the bright horizon with a cloud is overcast.
Sometimes they come to woo
our hearts away from sadness-
To speak of brighter promises and 1. '•> oe
fulfilled:
Anil over us there stea’s
A sense of peace me J dm ss.
And all the tumult and th" fears tormenting us
arc stilled.
The voices of the dead
Hi proach us, oh, how sadly!
For idleness and folly, and too prodigal dis
play ;
When careless of the en 1
We are rushing onward madly
And throwing all our golden opportunities
away.
We hear them in our dreams;
And the hearts that are now wholly
In bondage to the world, and all the pleasures
earth can give.
Feel a celestial thrill.
As if angels, tiending lowly.
Had stooped to give them comfort and to teach
them how to live.
But ah! they speak in vain
To those who. dull and reckless daring,
Would never pause to listen even to what an
nngel said.
But. satisfied with self.
Goon their way, unheeding
The voices of the living and the voices of the
dead.
—JiM'phinr. I'Mird. in N. I’. Ledger.
BESSY’S FAIRY (JOBMOTHER.
Little Bessie believed in fairies, al
though her mother smiled and shook
her head when she asked: "Did you
ever see a fairy?”
At the time my story begins Bessy
sat on the window-sill with a great book
open on her knee, straining her eyes
to catch the last words oi the most de
lightful story she had ever read. It
was all about fairy go 1 mot hers, shoes
tilled with gold, and other wonderful
things to be found in such books.
As the light died out ot the sky, and
a soft purple mist settled down' upon
the hill top-, she sighed and closed her
book, for the story was done.
Bessy’s father and mother were away
from home, and she w; s alone that
evening. The sound of voices ami the
rattling of dishes came from the kitch
en. Ihe erickets had begun their
evening song; the lanes were glowin'*
dark and mysterious. Bessy could inC
Hgine a fairy head peeping f’om every
tall flower by the garden gate, and the
Queen of them all seemed to bow to
her from the tn.ll white lily in the pansy
bed.
Bessy thought if ever fairy appeared
to mortal child, it would be' on such a
night as this. And now, to crown all,
just nt the end of the lane appeared a
light, moving backward and forward.
First it would bob down, and then up
quite high, among Ihe bushes.
At last Bessy could b -ar it no longer,
and made up her mind to solve the
mystery, bo she stepped out of the
window on the porch, and then softly
over the grass, for she was afraid Ann
would hear her and < all her back.
She said to herself. •• If it s'mw/d. be a
bury g:ow-worm lighting the fairies to
their duncmg ground Ann would
frighten them awav, she is so big mid
heavy.” ,
So down the pall; she went on tiptoe.
Ilardh daring lo breathe, she poshed
open the gate, and Io iked down the
lane.
Bessy thought the light had di ap
peared. Bin by-and by it came aga'n,
moving in the -ame strange manner.
Although she trembled a great deal, she
went bravely on. It was only a short
lane lead ng to the ma n road, ami out
in on one side by a large clump of tree'.
It was at the foot of one of these es
that the light seemed to be s amlnig
now.
At first Bessy crept softlv on, keeping
it in sight. How dark it* lad grown!
The light shone from the budies like a
fallen star. When Bessy was within a
light, she was aston
ished to see a face peering out of the
darkness, its eyes fixed on her with
anything but a plea'ant expre - n
The light went out, and Bessy, wish
ing she was safe at. home, turm d t-«
scamper back, when a heavs ha I w -
laid on her shoulder, and the 1 dit
flashed in her face.
She now saw it was a lantern car
ried by a very small and disagreea
ble old woman dressed in black, and
her head covered with a red handker
chief. In one hand she held the lan
tern. and under her arm was a crooked
stock.
Now. when Bessy saw the stick, she
was sure it was a fairy godmother, for
the old woman was exactly like the de
scription of the fairy iu her new book.
The ugly black stick was her wand. So
she whispered, timidly:
“ Are you a fairy godmother?”
“A what?” growled the old woman.
”Afairy godmother,” repeated Bessy.
“Oh, yes, yes; to be sure I’m a
fairy. If you tell any one vou saw me.
I’ll bring bad luck on your bouse.”
“Please, please don't,” sobbed Bes
sy. “ I’ll never, never tell any one.”
“ Well, shut up, then,” said the fairy,
“and don’t make such a noise.”
Bessy was not frightened now, for she
remembered that fairy godmothers were
always cross, and said hate ul things
just before they granted three wishes.
So she said, softly :
•‘Will you please give me three wish
es, madam?”
“I’ll give you t hree slaps if you don't
get out right off,” grumble I the old
fairy.
“ Please, please,” prayed Bessy. ‘ I'll
do anything you tell me if you will give
me three wishes.”
“I don't believe you. You ain’t got
spunk enough.”
“Oh yes, J have.” said Bessy. “Try
me.”
‘•Where do you live? asked the
fairy.
“Just down the lane, close by.”
“You do, do you? I didn’t see no
house,” said the fairy, in a startled
voice.
‘•That’s because mother and father
are out, and there’s no light in the front
room,” replied Bessy
••Are you all alone?" asked the
fairy.
“No,” renlied Bessy; “Ann and Lucy
are at home?’
“Who’s them?”
“Mamma’s two servants.”
“Any men at the house?”
“Notnow,” answered Bessy. “Moth
er took I’eter to drive. 'I hey 11 be back
soon, I think.”
I he old fairy turned out the light and
<it down on the ground; then she
d Bessy down by her, and put her
ml on the little girls shoulder. “Now
■ icnibcr,” she began, “you promise
never to tell nobody.”
“I promise true and sure I never
will, if you’ll give me three wishes to
night,"
But Bessy wondered if all fairies
smelled so of tobacco.
•• Will you do just what I tell you?”
asked the fairy.
“Yes,” said Bessy, nodding her head
very hard. “ I will.”
“ Let’s hear your three wishes, then”
growled the fairy.
“First, I want my shoes and papa's
anil mamma’s tilled wth gold. Then I
want an invisible cap for myself, and
then—”
“Now stop,” interrupted the old
fairy; “you’ve had tour a’ready.’
“No,” answered Bossy, “that’s only
two. Papa’s and mamma's and my
shoes tilled with gold is one wish, you
know.”
“Well, go ♦in,"
“Let me see,” pondered Bessy. “1
guess you may give me happiness for
the rest o' my life, and that’s all."
‘‘All r gbt. ’ itltnrned the fairy god
mother, "you’ll find them waiting for
you at three in the morning, if you do
what 1 tell you to.”
■•l’m ready,” said Bessy.
“You just run home, and bring me
the big key of the front door.”
“But papa said 1 must not touch that.
Besides, he would miss it for he always
locks the door himself, and hangs the
key up by the hat stand.”
“I shan’t keep it, ’ said the fairy.
“I’ll give it right back. You see, if I
didn’t know the size of the key-hole, I
mightn’t send a fairy small enough to
get through.”
“Oh!” said Bessy.
"Is the door fastened any other
Way?” asked the old fairy.
"Yes,” said Bessy; “a big bolt nt the
bottom, but it’s broken. Papa said ho
must send a man to fix it, but he
didn’t.’’.
“All right. Yon run as fast as you
can, and don’t let any one see you,
or the spell will be broken. Remem*
bar."
“I know,” replied Bessy; and she
sprang up and Hew down the lane,
through the gate, anti up the steps. She
could near Ann and Lucy still talking
and laughing in the kitchen, but no one
seemed to be thinking of her; so she
drew the key out softly, and run back,
thinking how delighted her father and
mother would be in the morning. Bessy
found the old fairy waiting n the same
place.
She snatched the key. and said: “I’ll
be back in a moment ” and vanished
into the darkness Bessy wa- almost
wild with excitement, but she.kept as
quiet as she could, and presently the
fairy re appeared.
1 ter first words astonished Bessy:
“Have you a dog?”
“Yes,” answered Bessy, “but he’s
the best dog that ever lived. He never
bites any but bad people, and his name
is Watch.”
“What do you do with him at
night? ”
“Why, we let him run around the
garden to keep away thieves.”
“You do, do you? That’s right,”
said the old fairy. “You just give
him this fairy meat: it will ke6;> h in
horn barking nt the fairy 1 send, and
>e . ng her away.”
• Yes, Madam Fairy,” returned
B -,'v; “ I’ll remember, and 1 11 put my
.shoes and papa’s and mamma’s all in a
row by the door, and please tell voui
fairy servant to till them up to the brim
with gold. Remember.”
“Good-by,” said the old fairy, and
when Bessy looked around she was
a’one. So she scampered back, and,
meeting \\ atch by the gate, whisneied
in his ear.
“Here is a piece of meat the fairv
sent you. Now be a good dog, and
don’t, bark when she comes to-night.”
Wnt h took the meat. ate. an I
growled over it.
Bessy put the key back softlv. Then
feeling very lonely and excited, she
crept softly around to the kitchen door
for light and companionship. There
stood Lucy kneading bread for break
last, while Ann sat by the door knittim* 1
a long, cotton stocking.
Bessy came close up to her and stood
still, looking into the kitchen. With
even thing shining and clean, so cozv
and comfortable, it was quite delightful
after the mysterious lane, and the old
fairy who smelled of tobacco.
“Why. you darling,” said Ann, “I
was just coming to look for vou.
Where have vou been? You look as
scared as a cat. and as wild as a witch.
W hat s the matter?”
“Nothing,” answered Bessy. “I
wish mother would come. What time
is it?”
“ Half-past eight.” said Lucy, look
ing at the clock. “She’ll be along
soon now. Don't fret, and I'll give
you a big piece of < ake.”
Bessy was as fond of cake as other
little girls; so sh*' sat down on the door
step to eat the cake, and listened for
th** wheels of the carriage.
At last they came, and Bessy flew
down to meet her parents with delight,
for she felt lonesome and queer.
Mamma called Ann to light the big
lampon the round table; then she looked
at her 1 ttle girl, sat down, and took her
on her lap, saving
have you been doing,
little one? You iook tired and cold.
Have you had your tea?”
How Bessy longed to tell them of the
wonderful good hi k in store for them!
But she remembered her promise, and
only answered:
“ Yes, mamma. lam sleepy.”
So mamma took a candle from the
mantel-piece, and led Bessy to bed, un
dressed her, and listened to her little
prayer and tuckod in the quilt; the*
she said: 4 ’
"I’ll be back for the light after I have
had my supper. Shut your eyes, like a
good girl, and go to sleep.”
As soonas her mother left the room
Bessy slid off of the bed and into the
next room, which was her mother s to
hunt for two pairs of shoes. After some
tumbling, she found a pair of slippersof
her mother’s and a large pair of boots
of her father’s. She put them in a row
by the door, and then jumped into bed
again.
It was not until after what seemed to
Bessy along, long time that she heard
her father and mother come out of the
dining-room. Then she heard papa
say;
“Why, what’s the matter «with the
key? I can’t turn it." She heard the
kov taken out, and papa say again:
“What is this in the key? It looks like
wax ”
After a little, she heard her father
turn the key and hang it up on the
hook. Pretty soon mamma came into
Bessy’s room. Bessy closed her eye
and pretended to be asleep. She felt
mamma kiss her, and heard her close
the door.
How long she slept she never kne ■■:
but suddenly she started up wide
awake, to find the stars shnirig down
on her through the window. Ever
thing was as still a- it could be. Be ■,
wondered if the fairies had come ye‘.
She stepped out of bed an I across Ihe
room, and put her hand into the big
l oots. They were empty; so w ere her
own Idtle shoes and mamma’s ’lippers.
“Well, they haven’t come jfct,” she
whispered.
She was about to return whim her at
tention was attracted by a flash of light
in the hall. Bessy peeped out, think
ing it miiht be the fairy; but what was
her surprise at see ng two large men,
in stocking feet, coming up the lower
stairs on tiptoe. The one behind car
ried a lantern, and was making it flash
backward and forward, up and down,
as the o'd fa ry did in the lane.
What could they want 9 she won
dered.
The first man carried a sack over his
shoulder, and pointed toward the closet
where Bes y I new all the silver-ware
was kept. Then the man with the lan
tern began ; ashing what looked like an
er. irmous nail betw en the lock and the
doo ', stopping every now anil then to
listen.
In a few moments th” <lofr flaw open,
and both went in together. Then Bes
y saw them take down the beautiful
silver pitchers. tea-pots, tr,i;sand forks
and Bpoon<, and put them into the bag.
They did it so softly that there was not
even the least little chink from them.
Though Bessy was a very little girl,
and believed in fairies, she knew these
men had no right io take papa's rilver.
So she thought she must t-ll him. She
ran to the door between their rooms,
and pus cd it open a little wa. .
“Papa! papa!” she cried, “two b'g
men am in the house. They have taken
everything in the silver closet, l ake a
stick and drive them aw.tv.”
I'p jumped papa, seizing a pair of
great pistols, and made a rush for the
stairs, With Bessy behind h’m.
They had no! reach d the fi st step
when the two men darted but of the
room a,. io -.
I it papa with a pistol in
each . 'd the bag and ran
tow a. th ", and were oat
of sight a
Mamma... ■. i.-. noise, camo
hurrying out to • what was the mat
ter, ana found Bess' rying n tl, ■ cor
ner, and papa rushing through the
house with a pair of pistols. Be sy’s
mo her eiaspcd her very closely in her
arms.
In a little while papa came back,
looking very serious. The nu n had dis
appeared, and Watch lay dead on the
mat outside of the door.
By thel tni they had emptied the bag,
and put everything in its place, it w is
quite daylight, end Bessy knew the fa rv
had’ been frightened awa. . So she
climbed up in her mother’s lap a id be
gan sobbing softly. Then, when her
mother coaxed her to tell what a cd
her, she pointed to the shoes, and told
her about the old fairy in the lane and
the key.
Be-sy had to tell that store over so
many times that day And for a long
time her mamma did not leave her
alone in the evenings; so that Bessy
never saw the fairy godmother again.
Julia K. Hildreth, in Harp<r's Young
People,
The Irrepressible London Fog.
Yesterday London was visited bv the
first real tog of the season, and consid
er ng that we have not yet reached No
vember, it must be admitted that, from
•.he fog's point of view, its density was
creditable. Nor has the fog lost any
of its dirt, apparently; for its old dingy
yellow hue is as visible as ever, an 1 tit
tle or no change is to be observed in its
appearance. This is very disheartening.
But a short time ago we were led to be
lieve that the fog was about to be. if
not abolished altogether, at least
thoroughly cleansed and deprived of
some of its most obje tionable features,
So much, indeed, was said and written
respecting intended <>[!•.•rations against
the fog by those who had taken it in
hand, that it was looked upon bv the
public generally as one of those “pre
ventable nu sauces” the dais of whose
existence are supposed to be numbered,
and which are tolerated with patience
pending the completion of contemplated
arrangements tor their extinction All
this tine talk about the London fog has
died away. Ihe log, as though it
wished to make a displat of its indi er
enee to the threats leveled against it,
has opened its autumnal session even
earlier than usual. -St James' Gage/te.
‘fames Collins, of South Lawrence,
I Mass., is in his 110th year. Born in
Ire and, he was left an orphan at the
age of six months, and buried the last
oi his five brothers over sixty years ago.
Alter living ninety-five years on a farm
in h s native Erin, he concluded to seek
h s fortune in the land of the free,
making the voyage with little discom
fort. He buried his wife forty years
a;o. and is eared lor by five of his chil
| dren living in Lawrence. He talks,
hears and sees well, never took medi
cine. ami never was sick, saws wood
and walks or exercise, and has still on
h head locks of his own hair, of
"hi h the genuine Irish auburn has"
never been silvered by time. i
Pyramid Prophecies.
Tradition and history a<rree in assign
ing the building of the Great Pyramid
(Ike that of the other pyramids of
Ghi eh) to a monarch or a dyna-tv, not
moved by any specially unselfish pur
pose, but, on the contrary, ready
rifice large sums of money raised by
cruel taxations and the lives of many
thousands of laborers cruelly impressed
for the work. The memory of the des
pots who built the pyramids was held
in hate and abho rence by the Egyp
tians, for what seemed to later times
most adequate and sufficient reasons.
Men could not, however, but admire
the wonderful masses of masonry thus
rased at the border of the Egyptian
d sort, so massive as to resemble the
works of nature, so stable that they re
ma n after thousands of years scarce
t. u In d. b neath their surface layers,
by the storms of heaven or by the move
ments of the earth, or by the destructive
work of man. Even now it may be
questioned whether any amount of labor
which -ail the rulers of our day- could
impre s for the work would suffice to
detoy these monuments of Egyptian
tyranny w.thout the aid of gunpowder,
d num te or other methods of sci
biitln'.* destruction. It was never
held, hoiVfVer, even by the most
ignorant Bedou'n, ’bat tae Py ra *
mds contained hidden knO w E‘dge of
any sort, still less that they conce.l' :d
prophetic intimat ons. Yet when Mr.
J. Ta. lor, taking the best measures of
the ('re at Pyramid known in his time,
found, or seeme I to find, in that edifice,
the solution of the (to many) mystical
i ro’iiem of the s uaring of the circle,
biith was given to the doctrine, shortly
to develop into marvelous proportions,
that the builders of the Great Pyramid
concealed within its once goodly casing
profound mathematical and astronomi
cal knowledge—nay, such knowledge as
without Divine aid they could never
have acquired. One by one all the
triumphs of science since the time of
Galileo have been found to be anticipated
hnd revealed in the structure of the
Great Pyramid. The science of the next
century "lies e jually in this mysterious
structure, concealed now, but to be re
vealed there when—well, when it has
been otherwise discovered. I speak with
some know 'edge Os the subject, though
not acquired precisely as the pyramid
alis's acquired theirs, when I say that
there is not a discovery enevtt’d dur ng
the last thousand years,- or which
can by any possibility be effected during
the next thousand years, which may not
be sldfw'n by their methods to be em
bodied in the structure Os the Great
Pyramid—or of any other pyramid, or
in_St. Peter’s at Rome, or St. Paul's in
London. Any number you please may
be found with a little patience in any
one Os these buildings, and every scien
tific relation may be indicated by anuni
bi r. Then, among numbers so found,
many will be repeated in different ways,
and so the apparent evidence from coin
cidence will seemingly be strengthened,
though in reality weakened, because
e ery such double or feeble coincidence
shows that pure coincidences can always
be recognized among any numbers taken
either at random or from any set how
ever determined. Thus, among the
various distances, dimensions, periods,
etc., within the solar System, or rather
among the numbers representing these,
th -re are multitudes of coincidences
purely accidental, though only the as
tronomer, perhaps, may be able to dis
tinguish those which are accidental from
those which are real.-- The Gentleman's
Maaazine.
Laugh More.
‘•Why don’t you laugh, mother ?”said
a little three-year-old daughter, as hei
mother, with rather clouded counte
nance, was dressing the little ones. The
earnest tone of the child provoked the
wished-for laugh, and the little heart
was happy.
And, mothers, I fear we do not laugh
enough. The housekeeping is so oner
ous, the children so often trying to
nerves and temper, the servants most ex
asperating, and even John, kind, good
husband as he is, cannot understand all
our vexations and discouragements, and
so wearied and worried, we often feel
that it is too much for the household to
depend on us, in addition to all our cares,
for social sunshine as well. Yet the
household does, and it must. Father
may be bright and cheery, his laugh ring
out, but if mother’s laugh fails, even the
father’s cheerfulness seems to lose much
of its infection. In the sad but forcible
lines of one of Joanna Baillie’s dramas—
Her rule child had caught the trick of grief,
Ai d sighed amid its playthings—
we may catch a glimpse of the stem re
pressed life at Bothwell Manse, where
“the repression of all emotions, even the
gentlest, seems to have been the constant
lesson.” I remember well hearing a lady
say; “When a child, I used to wish so
often that my m«Wier would look cheer
ful. ”
Then laugh, mother even if you do
feel almost too weary to exert the facial
muscles, and you have to make a pitiful
effort, which comes nigh bringing tears
instead of a laugh. You will feel better
tor the effort, and so will the children.
I’he little ones, unconsciously to you and
to themselves, are catching the very
phases of countenance which will go far
to brighten or cloud some future home.
I’hen laugh, mother—parlor, nursery,
and kitchen all feel the effect of your
smile or frown. The cheery laugh of a
mother goes down through generations,
as well as her frown. And when the
mother eyes are closed, and lips and
hands are forever still, there is no sweeter
epitaph which children and friends can
give than, “ She was always bright and
cheerful at home.”— Christian Intelli
gencer.
—A few days ago two San Francisco
boys, less than twelve years of age, pro
cured two knives, and ’played “cowboys
meeting on the plains for deadly con
flict. ” After a few passes, one boy’s
knife slipped and penetrated the other's
rips, inflicting a fatal wound. He fell
to the ground gasping, “Fred, you’ve
hurt me.” Two women who had seen
the affair from a window rushed
out and took the lad into the house,
where he died. Both boys were habit
ual readers of the dime-novel stories of
blood-curdling exploits performed by |
border de<perai 1 o<»<C/i icago Tribune.
—Hoarseness and tickling in the
throat are best relieved by the gargle
of the white of an egg beaten to a froth
in half a glass of warmed, sweetened
water.— The Household.
WM. A. MILLER, c . T , CARGILL
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for use. Colors in Oil; Dry, Linseed, Tan. ers’, Machine and Kerosene Oils; Varnishes,
1 utty, Window Glass, Lamps and Lamp Fixtures: Surgical Apparatus, such
„„ . . , as Abdominal Supporters. Trusses, Lancets, Pocket Ca. rs, etc., etc.
I his firm also deals in Smoking and Chewing Tobacco, Fine Cigars and Snuff, and have the ex:
elusive Drug trade in fine Wines, Whiskies and Brandies in Dalton.
< all and see them at the corner of King and Hamilton streets, Dalton, Ga. Prices guaranteed
compare with Atlanta. ’ ’ b |e ig tf r
The Dalton Argus,
[changed from indepeneent headlight,]
Brightest, Most Progressive, Liberal and P opnla
News Paper in Northwest G-eorgia.
OLTLY OAT ZE EOLEAR 7L ’MIE-A.ZEd.
Advertisers can find no Better Medium through which to Meet the Farmers,
Mechanics, Merchants, Mill Men and People of this section.
H. A. WRENCH, Publisher.
Trying a Boy.
After a bootblack had polished the
boots of gentleman who was rambling
around the City Hall, it was discovered
that the man had nothing less than a
dollar bill and the boy no more than
fifteen cents.
“ I suppose you can get this
changed?” suggested the man.
“ Oh, yes.”
“ And you can find me when you
come back?” J
“ Yes.”
But if I place this dollar in your
hands will it not be a temptation to von
to cut sticks?” y
“ I wouldn’t steal no sich sum as
that,” contemptuously replied the boy
‘‘but for fear I might git a telegram and
be called out of town in a hurry, I
guess you’d better go along.
“ My son, I think I can trust you. Go
on your way. I was never deceived in
a boy yet.”
The boy started down Griswold street
and did not return. The man did not
wait, however. It was a busted Cana
dian bank bill.— Detroit Free Press.
, hMty “ y 8 the German
town Telegraph, given simply because
of some personal annoyance, the unjust
blame thoughtlessly visited on innocent
heads, the unkind sarcasm or taunt, the
itter invective, the exaggerated con
demnation of small though troublesome
onenses, poison happiness and quench
affection without adding one iota to the
general stock of virtue or good conduct. 1
Two Smiths.
During Vanderbilt’s brief stay in De
troit there happened to be in the city,
and at the same hotel, an Ohio man who
so closely resembled him that dozens of
f people could hardly tell which from
which. This was the case with the at
tendants at the cloak-room. Having
helped the Buckeye to put on his duster
a nd given him half-a-dozen raps with
the broom, he stood back and waited.
“Well,” queried the guest, “how much
is the extortion?” “De las’ time you
was heah, sah, you gin—” “Never was
here before in my life.” “Hain’t you
de Commodore?” “No, I'm the Colo
nel. ’ “You hain’t Wanderbilt?” “No,
I m Smith.” ‘‘Well, dat circuiscribes
de case, an’ proves dat one darky stan's
no sort o’ show agin two white men.''
“How?” “Why, de odder gem’lan. who
looks moas’ ’zactly like you, said his
name was Smith, too, and he got away
widout puttin’ his hand in his pocket!”
—Wall Street News.
Several months ago the ragpickers
of st. Louis formed an association for
the purpose of mutual aid and protection
and to prove to the world that, in their
own language, a ragpicker can be a g en "
tieman. This union has flourished dur
ing the summer, and at a meeting a few
days ago they had the satisfaction of
hearing what a good record their trade
is making. It seems to be the general
opinion in St. Ixruis that they are c n
dm ting their business in an enterpris
ing and upright manner, and winning
he respect to which their own self
respect entitles them.— Chicago