Newspaper Page Text
VOL. V.-NO. 23.
<‘PE WIT! PE WEN."
f
back in boyhood’s rosy morn,
ntlie far®* where I was born,
Winter's hand relaxed Its hold,
arms did earth infold,
r gjad was 11ho bird to see
t seenieh t° say:
"Pe wit! Po wee!”
• well remembered barn within,
■oft have I enchanted bob',;
prehed upon some brace or beam,
sou '’ter still its threadbare theme
jwellupon' However trite,
ids—l listened with delight:
"Pe wit! Pe wee!”
yas it an (esthetic strain
did inv spirit so enchain ;
rbo emdd guess a charm could be
osesAridnetes:
“1 e wit! Pe wee!”
far removed from that dear spot,
eboyhood scenes still uniorgnt;
fragile songster still 1 hear,
gain iinelumget’ from year to year;
rnt 'tis over new to me—
stereotyped
"Pe wit! Pe vrf. 3!”
—JI. Latta, in Our Continent.
BROKEN ENGAGEMENT.
»n Mary Clarimont’s engagement
reclaimed to the world there en
geueral expression of surprise,
pie generally are euiprised at mat
ul engagements. There is always
cogent it a on why things should
been adjusted otherwise why
should have married Joan, and
should prefer Betsey. Nobody
reryel married to suit everybody.
iu* Mmy Clarimont’s case it did
seem as u the course of true love
itarfered seriously with the current
unou sense and prudence.
8 Clarimont was only one-and
?, a tail, imperial beauty, with
black eyes, a skin as fresh as
ik roses, and dark-brown hair,'
in shilling bands at the back of
iead. Moreover, Miss Clarimont
"career” before her. She had
jraduated from Medfield Medical
jtsitv and taken out her diploma
M. D.
id only to think of it,” said Aunt
listing into tears of vexation and
(ointment, “that she must needs
drain all her prospects by getting
ed to Hany Marlow, down in New
I”
does seem strange, Aunt Jo, when
own and think of it,” said Doctor
, laughing and blushing. “Six
is ago my profession was all the
to me, I neither wished nor
for anything outside its limits,
future was all mapped out before
without let or hindrance; and
[urnph 1” growled Aunt Jo. “Any
less idiot can get married and keep
ns house and mend his shirts for
but you were made for something
ir and more dignified, Mary.”
p s dev-blight eyes spat kled.
uglier, Aunt Jo ? ’ said she. ‘ ‘ More
ted? There you are mistaken.
1 U nc higher or more dignified lot
1 than that of the true wife of a no
nsbands.”
fiddlesticks !” said Aunt Jo. “As
en poor fool who was dazzled by
utter of a wedding-ring didn’t say
same thing | You’ve disappointed
Alary Clarimont, and I’m ashamed
and that is the long and the
t of it,”
hy smiled.
W Aunt Jo,” said she, “ I shall
ft my sword and shield rust, believe
-larry has only his own talents to
nee him in the world, and it will be
bt a year before we shall be ready
d!r . v ' In the meantime I shad ac-
J 1 '* post of visiting physician to the
Jdy almshouse and practice my
-son in Aideubnry, just the same
were were no engagmm nt.”
"ish tu goodness there wasn’t,”
unt Jo. “J tell you what, Mary,
t -aucy that smiling, smooth
young man of yours, and I
phall.
Mary Clarimont kept her
L a n. sorr y, unt J°.” she said,
, ‘Dutl hope that you will .
fW change your mind.”
•wi *7 e '’l > 11 thread-and-needle
Li". 11 ,' as a young woman,” re
, < 'i “and J alwavs
..7. 0 lln " ot a counterfeit ha'f
.. a Plls tomer laid ir. on the
It a 1 could then, and I can now—
ii»! !l ’y> there’s base
“about Harry Mar.ow!”
Lit her lip.
ect | ll h’ u °i' discuss the
tiii/'u lei * -t Jo,” she said, with
<’" l y, and the old lady said no
S ,?° i* ™g 1” persisted the
lil. M - A to hers if.
a i°ol of herself!”
Mt Aunt Jo.
'1 “b’aiy was a pretty manufactur-
' " lt * l a “'‘in streotshaded by
p]' i Ge< ’ ÜBl^ a ples, a “west end,” where
77,"?° l' a d made their fortunes
rcuni' 1 V r ,*' a l J ly tn rcomy old hous. s,
til. ' - velvet lawns and terraced
fonLm ( \ an * <eas t end,” whore poo-
CesKf.li desperately and not always
her 1 o lo k ee P soul and body to-
M a ith m< ‘ rest pittance.
'■■lions . 'i' "j ay oufc of the village the
,’ U1U a! ‘‘ l endowed by a cer
ine., i? ii ■ Bea Uaptaui, whose con-
", .l' r ’ c ked him during his lat
ihe sk\ ra i !KC I ( l tiheir gray-stone gables
Un<l t' ’ “ nd m 'de a picturesque back-
C ela ± a ’’ e -
“"of laiy Clairmont made some-
Ihi,.; a Ben sution at Aldenbury. Up
'“S’ iff I .' H 1 the rosi dent M. D.’s had
itv (ni , v °ld gentlemen with wigs or
i 'bonmu '. 68 with eyeglasses.
lioiis L" s ailc i compounded pills and
“'I r■', ' S a "? ve lty in the town, and
ILrlip 1 '] 4 ? disagreeable one. People
kel t; ' , idea, once they had con
emelves that the lady doctor
Ci/ il 1 I lOTil
thoroughly understood herself and her
patents.
And the poor old people at the alms
house grow to love Doctor Mary and
nsten wdh eager oar? for the sound of
her carriage wheels over the blue gravel
drive winch led up to the portico.
t tvas a brilliant December day when
the young physician stood in the neatly
cirpetcd reception-room, drawing on
l-r fur gloves previous to entering her
neat phaeton once again, while she ro
to the whit '-canped maid some
directions concerning old Ann Mudgett’s
rheumatism, when the matron * hur
ried in.
“ Oh, I beg vour pardon, Doctor
C'a'rmont,” said she, “but I clean forgot
the new old woman I”
“The now old woman,” repeated
Doctor Mary, with a smile.
That is.’ explained Mrs. Cunning
ham, “ she only camo L'<->t night—a quiet
olg soul, half blind and quite bad with
the asthma, Perhaps you’d !>■ tier just
see her before you go. She brought a
card of admission from Doctor Merton,
■ lie New York cl rgymnn, who is one of
our directors, you know. And she seems
a docent holy o'lnucli.”
So Doctor Mary went cheerfully into
the little brick-paved room, with its
white pallet-bed cushioned rocking
chair and neatly-draped casement, where
sat a poor, little shriveled-up woman,
wrapped in a faded shawl.
She looked timidly up, as Doctor
Mary came in, from under the borders
of her cap.
“I’m a poor holy, miss,” said she,
“and I’m sensible I’m making a deal of
trouble in the world. But the Lord
don’t always take us, miss, when we’d
like to go.”
“This is the doctor,” said Mrs. Cun
ningham.
The little woman would have risen up
to make a feeble courtesy, but Doctor
Marv motioned her to keep her seat.
“What is your name?” said she,
pleasantly.
“Louise Marlow, miss.”
“ Marlow ? That is an unusual name,
isn’t it?” said Mary Clairmont, coloring
in suite of herself.
“Were English, miss,” said the old
woman, struggling bravety with her
asthma. “There ain’t many of us in
this country. I’ve • a son, miss, in the
law business, as any mother might be
.proud of.”
“ A son!” echoed Mrs. Cunningham;
“ and you in the almshouse !”
“ Not that it’s his fault ma’am,” th.
old creature made haste to exnlain. “My
son is to be married to a fine, proud
young lady, as is fit for any prince in all
the land, and of course he can’t be ex
pected to burden himself with a helpless
old woman like me. Ho says I’m to write
and let him know how I get along, and
if I’m sick or anything he’ll try to see
me. I sewed carpets until the asthma
got hold of me, and supported myself
comfortably. But of course I couldn’t lay
up anything for a rainy day—who could ?
And Henry couldn’t help me, for he’s
getting ready to be married, poor lad!
So I went to Dr. Merton and asked him
did ho know of any decent place where
an <ld woman like me could end her
days in peace. And he gave me a card
to come here and some money to pay my
traveling ixpenses—God bless him!—
and here I am !”
Mary Clarimont ha 1 listened quietly
to the garrulous ta’e, but the color had
varied in her cheek more than once as
she stood th re.
“ Is your son’s name Harry Marlow .
she said, slowly and tnoughttu
‘"Yes, miss, at your service, said
the old woman, with a d:tek of her
white-capped head, which was meant to
do duty in place of the impossible
courtesy.
“Is he like this ?” said Doctor Mary,
taking a photograph from h< r pocket.
“The old woman, with trembling
hands, fitted on her iron-bowed spec
tacles, ami looked at the picture, utter
ing a little cry of reeo. mtion.
“Sure, miss, it is his own self, she
cried. “You are acquainted widi h:m,
then ?”
“Somewhat,” said Doctor Mary, com
posedly, as she ri'lurued the pin i . icph
to it’s place. “And now 1 witMea\e
you something to relieve tins difficulty
in breathing.” .
But the old crone eyed her wistfully.
“Perhaps you know the young lady
mv son is to marry ?” . .
‘“Yes.” said Doctor Mary, writing
something in her proscription book. 1
have seen her.”
“Perhaps, miss,” faltered toe old
woman, “vou would give her my humble
duty, and tell her L would just like to
look at her lor once and see what she is
like. Tlure’s no fear of my troubling
her miss, for I mem to end my days
here But I would like to sec her just
' once. And if it wouldn’t be asking too
I much, miss, would you please write to
mv son and tell where I ain? foi ni
; no scholar myself, and i m his mother,
I after all.” ~ TA
i “I will write to him,” said Domor
Mary, quietly; and so she went an ay.
“ 1 never see a lady doctor afore, said
old Mrs. Marlow, with a long sigh.
I “But she’s a pretty creetur, and it
1 seems good to have her around. I hope
I she’ll come again soon.” ,
“You may be very sure of that, said
the matron, brusquely. “ Doctor Clan
mont ain’t one to neglect poor people
because they are poor. _
That evening Aunt Jo, frying crnlleis
over the kitchen fire, was surprised by a
visit from her niece, who came m, all
wrapped in furs, with her cheeks crim
soned with the frosty, winter air.
“Bless me! this ain’t never your
said Aunt Jo, peering over the rims of
her spectacles. t ’•
“ I drove over to see you, Aunt Jo,
said Marv, “to tell yon that you were
right. The metal was counterfeit,
DALTON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, JANUARY 27, 1883.
“Eh ?” said Aunt Jo, mechanically
ladling out the brown, curly crullers,
although she did not look at what she
was doing.
“I have written to Harry Marlow,
canceling our engagement,” said Doctor
Mary, calmly, albeit her voice faltered a
little. “The man who will heartlessly
let his old mother go into an almshouse,
sooner than take the trouble to maintain
her, can be no tit husband for anv
woman !”
And then she sat down bv the fire ami
told Aunt Jo everything ;‘for crabbed,
crusty old Aunt joe had been like a
mother to her, and the girl’s heart was
full to overflowing.
When she had ceased speaking Aunt
Jo nodded her head.
“You have done well and wisely,”
said she.
Old Mrs. Marlow died that winter, in
Aldenbury almshouse, with her h ad on
Doctor Mary Clarimont’s arm, and never
knew that her garrulous confessions ha T
deprived her son of his promised wife.
And Mary says quietly and resolutely
that her profession must be husband
and home to her henceforward.
“J ust what it ought to be,” says Aunt
Jo. “No woman every yet succeeded
in doing two things at once.”
And even thereafter Dr. Mary wore
bloomers, fought for the rights of her
sex and entertained an unquenchable
dislike for the male sex.
Predicting Storms.
Prof. E. Stone Wiggins, LL. D., the
Canadian astronomer who recently
warned the President that “preeminent
ly the greatest storm that has visited
this continent” since the days of Wash
ington will sweep over the United States
on certain days of next March, appears
to be responsible for some remarkable
statements in an Ottawa newspaper.
The Free Press of that city soberly de
clares that “The leading scientists of
Europe have endorsed the prediction,”
and adds: “There can.be no doubt
that if the Toronto Meteorological Bu
reau had acted upon his warning in
September the Asia, with a hundred
souls on board, would not have been
lost. The United States Signal Office,
however, so the American Register tells
us, had implicit faith in his predictions,
owing to his standing as an astronomer
in that country, having ranked second
in the race for the Warner prize last
year, for which 125 of the leading as
tronomers competed. Accordingly three
days before the time named by Wiggins
they hoisted the storm signals, and the
same journal telis us that his prediction
in that one instance saved the United
States $8,000,000!”
This is a pretty story to tell to Dr.
Wiggins’ doubting countrymen, but it
has no value on this side of the border.
The Signal Service Office does not in
any way sanction the prediction for
March, and we think it is entirely safe
to say that, instead of having had “im
plicit faith” in any forecast from Cana
da last September, the recent letter to
the President was the first warning the
bureau had that Dr. Wiggins was
abroad. The storm signals hoisted
along the coast between 10 a. m. of
September 5 and 12:05, of September
13, were warnings of the approach of a
cyclone from the tropics, and had no
connection with the storm from the Pa
cific Coast in which the Asia was lost.
The cyclone was of such great energy
that signals were also raised on the
lakes for northerly winds; but these
were lowered September 11, and no
more were again displayed until the
morning of the 14th, the day the Asia
was lost in Georgian Bay. In other
words, the lake signals were lowered
before the Asia storm reached the Pa
ci tic Coast, and they were not ordered
up again until that storm suddenly de
veloped great violence over Lakes Supe
rior and Huron, which was after 11 p.
m. of September 13. The warnings for
the cyclone- made without knowledge
of any prediction of Dr. Wiggins—saved
at least $13,000,000 in property, enough
to cover the expenses of the signal ser
vice for ten years.— N. Y. Tribune.
Nettling a Witness.
The Troy Press says: Witnesses in
court cases after having pestered almost
to death by counsel on the other side are
extremely apt to become obstinate in an
swering subsequent questions. Such ac
tion, although natural, is of poor judg
ment, for the inquisitive lawyer seeing
that he has nettled the witness will re
double his exertions to completely con
s and thus benefit the case of the
cross-examining discilpes of Blackstone,
lu the Circut Court, yesterday, a witness
after having been expressibly wearied by
the persist nt interrogatories of eminent
counsel, apparently imide up his mind to
become obstinate and possibly witty, so
when asked the distance from one point
to au jther by street blocks, he answered,
“I never measured.”
“How long would it take you to walk
the distance ?” n
“I never counted.’
“How long would it take you to ride
the distance?”
“I never rode. ” .
“Could you walk the distance in fif
teen minutes?”
“Yes, if I wanted to.’
Answers were given in this unsatisfac
tory manner until finally t’ e information
desired was obtained. But after that the
witness was doubly persecuted, and upon
ba-.imr the stand his feelings mn. t have
been identical with those of the fellow
who dreamed he stepped from hell into
heaven in a second of time. Witnesses
who adopt the obstinate-witty fashion
must expect rough handling. They ab
ways get it —♦
The ocean front at Long Branch has
been washing away so fast that property
owners there are building bulkheads
md jetties to save their property.
A Lang. Felt Want.
I have had occasion to travel consid
erably during the past year, and at half
the houses 1 stopped the b scuits were
raw nt the bottom, aud either as heavy
as lead or yellow as a pumpk n with
soda, while the meat was swimming in
grease. Why, it is enough to give a
razor-back hog. a sheep-killing dog, or
a Bengal tiger dyspepsia. And'then the
coflee—how detestable! Vi hat it is
made of 1 have not the slightest idea; but
whatever it is, it has not the remotest
kinship to genuine Rio or the delicious
ly- 11 avore.l Java. Horace Greeley vis
ited the South soon after the war, and
the only criticism his kind heart made
was in these memorable words: “I he
f’outh needs twenty thousand cooks!”
It would not ffavc been prudent for Mr.
( reeley to have made a visit to the
South before the war, but if be had,
and been entertained by 20,000 farmers
and planters, he would have said: “The
.South has 20,000 of the best cooks in the
world:” Southerners always educated
their daughters, and when these daugh
ters ma r.ed they made the r home at
tractive in .arious wavs, and especially
in the cooking department. They edu
cated negro women in the art o cook
ing, and allowed them to do nothing
else, consequently the cooking was ex
ec.lent. But the abolition of slavery
also abolished good cook ng, except as
to the negro women who were educated
by their mistresses in the culinary art,
and the mistro ses themselves. I heard
a gentleman make a very sensible re
mark recently. “Vanderbilt, I’eabody
and Slater have given millions of
dollars to the cause of educa
tion in the South, and I honor them
as great benefit tors of our section; but
if I had several million* to give away
I would establish all over the South
schools in which tie: a, t of cooking
■would be taught. In doing this I
would be subserving the cause of mor
ality and religion, as well as of civiliza
tion and humanity. Properly-cooked
food causes health, and perfect health
is condu ive to good tern: er, cheerful
ness, kind feeling, efficient and capa
ble work, mental and physical, while
badly-cooked food produces indiges
tion. indigestion causes bad health in
every part of the human system, fret
fulness, hatefulness, disc ntent, poor
mental and physical labor, and renders
life a curse to himself and all those
around him. A man cannot be a true
Christian, in all that it means, if he is
fed upon badly cooked food all is days.
The great, need of the country is good
cocks and plenty of them. Young
ladies should be instructed in the art,
both at school and at home. It is time
the country was awakening to this
great nee 1. A well-to-do parent spends
SSOO to give his daughter a musical ed
ucation. aud another SSOO to buy her a
piano, and nine chances to one she nev
er plays on it a year after her mar
riage. If the SI,OOO were -pent in giv
ing her a practical and t eoreti al
knowledge o’ cooking, it would be far
better for her and infinitely better for
her future husband and children.”
The man who made these remarks is
ma rled, and has three beautiful daugh
ters.—“hence these tears.”— Cor. Nash
ville {Tenn.} American.
Taking Tilings for Granted.
Half the failures in life result from
the habit so mauy people have of taking
things for granted. The business man
assumes that his credits are good ; he
takes it for granted that his wife knows
what style of living his income will war
rant ; until the logic of addition, sub
traction and multiplication proves too
much for him, and down comes his busi
ness in ruin. The young professional
man takes it for granted that veneering
instead of solid acquirements will ena
ble him to succeed, because there are so
many notorious examples of men’s rising
and maintaining themselves in publi*
life through pure audacity, native wit,
and an utter lack of conscience. He will
find too late that it won’t do to plan and
risk a career by the exceptions rather
tlian the rule. The farmer keeps no ac
count—crops his farm according to the,
season, or last year’s markets, or his
neighbor’s success—takes it for granted
that the laws of nature and of trade will
accommodate themselves to his necessi
ties—sinks deeper into debt, and won
ders why farming doesn’t pay. And so
on to the end; men everywhere want
success without paying its price in thor
ough preparation, honest hard work, in
telligent calculation and foresight, pa
tient attention to details. They take for
granted things which it is their business
to know, and trust that to fortune which
common sense and experience should
teach them is controlled by law
Golden Rule.
A Sure Cur/.
“Don’t you know it’s very wrong to
smoke, my boy?” said an elderly-look
ing lady, in a railway waiting room, to
Young America, who persisted in puff
ing a cheap cigarette, much to the old
lady’s discomfort.
“Oh, I smoke for my health,” an
swered the boy, emitting a volume of
smoke from his mouth, which almost
strangled the old lady.
“But you never heard of a cure from
smoking, continued the lady when she
had regained consciousness.
“Oh, yes I did,” persisted the boy, as
he formed his mouth into a young Ve
suvius working on full time; “thats the
way thev cure pigs."
“Smoko on, then,” quickly replied
the old lady; “there’s some hope for you
ye t!”— Yonkers Staff suinn.
—A well-to-do farmer created a sensa
tion at Reading, Pa., recently,by bring
ing his three young and handsome
daughters into court as the plaintiffs in
three separate actions for breach o
promise of marriage.
Country Road Making.
It is a matter of universal comment
with travelers that country road making
: in the United States is either a lost art
'orato be acquired science. The aver
! age selectman or road agent of a coun
i try town is usually deplorably ignorant
of the first principles of maßing a good
i road. Nothing will so surely advance
the growth and well-being of a town as
j well made and well-kept roads. No
i part of its domest c economy will more
! certainly repay the outlay. Nothing
i more bespeaks the intelligence and
; character or public spirit, of its cit zens.
, In England and most of its dependen
' cies the roads are made dire: t y‘ by the
i State or under its supervision. As a
re ult the contrast between Engli h
i roads and those of this country is much
in favor of the former. A common and
I natural mistake <f moat to ns in this
; country is that an intelligent farmer
■ must necessarily know how to make a
J good road, but the reverse is the fact,
i Road making is a subject requ ring
study and a knowledge of the nature of
foils, not often cons dered by any but
engineers, or th se to w hom such kno .fl
edge is a necessary adj net of their
business in life. A well made r ad even
in our climate and with the wide differ
ences in s >il ingre lients, will last for
years, whereas ordinarily the items
of repairs on our roads means an
entirely changed thoroughfare, the
pitch, watersheds and general character
being more in the way of experiment
than a scientific and practical renova
tion. The country road maker com
mences by throwing out the “big ones’,
on to the side of the road, retaining the
smaller ones, when by thoroughly
“bedding” the big stones the best
possible foundation is had and with a
covering of small stones mixed with
gravel, or even with good loam care
lully harrowed and scraped, a road
bed is formed which will defy both rains
and heavy teams. Generally the tyro
devotes his time to heaping the ma
ter al in the center with such a slope
as o'ten to interfere with locomotion,
and which heap the first heavy team re
solves nto deep ruts, vitiating its use
fulness for any but a similarly heavy
team and for it only with constantly in
creas ngstrain on the horses. Yankee in
genuity has invented capital road mak
ing tools which need but intelligent ap
plication to develop such thoroughfares
as would make them admired in place
of be ng a reproach and shame. Our
co sntry is rich enoughtoplace the roads
in the h inds of such government as will
insure their perfection instead of leaving
them to town officials without the educa
tion or experience necessary to an ac
complishment of the object— Hartford
Courant.
Haunted by llis Crime.
The following striking example of the
state of a murderer’s heart, with its
ceaseless memory and perpetual self-ac
cusation, brings forcibly to mind the
words of Webster: “A vulture is de
vouring it, and it can ask no human as
sistance or sympathy.” The case is
that of Martin Battles, of Charlotte, N.
Y., who twenty years ago shot and
killed Cornelius Lynch.
He was tried and convicted of min .e:
in the first degree, and sentenced to one
year in the Auburn penitentiary, and
then to be hanged. His case was
brought before the Court of Appeals.
The court decided that the act of the
Legislature was unconstitutional, and
Battles was set at liberty. He enlisted
in the Union army, and served through
the late war. lie then returned. He
declared that he was constantly haunted
by the presence of the man he had killed,
and he was sorry that the sentence of the
law had not been carried out. He en
deavored to have himself placed on trial
again, hoping that he would be recon
victed and hanged. Ho finally became
a maniac, and was placed in the West
ern asylum for the insane. He is still
an inmate»! that institution, mid im
agines that his victim is always present
in his cell for the purpose of mocking
and torturing him. Ho at times throws
himself on bis knees and begs Lynch to
kill him. Although only 40 years of
age, bis hair is as white as a man’s of
70. Every day is one of terror to him.
—New York Sun.
— ■
Did Him a Favor.
A few days since a prominent mem
ber of the Board of Trade was sum
moned to sit as a juryman in one of the
courts of record. Now, however much
business men may regret that our jury
system is such that incompetent and un
fit men may get upon juries, they do
not care to improve the syste i at per
sonal loss, anti each term of court sees
them urging their claims to be excused.
The gentleman in question made an ap
plication to be excused, and, after being
sworn, stated that he could not serve
except at considerable pecuniary loss to
himself.
“ What is the na’ttre of your busi
ness?” inquired the Court.
“ i am a grain merchant.”
“ Where do you transact your busi
ness principally?”
“On the Board of Trade.
“ Well, I think I shall, under the cir
cumstances, do you a favor.”
“ Thank your Honor,” said the mer
chant, bowing gratefully and starting
for the door. .
“Hold on! Hold on!” exclaimed
the Court. “The favor I refer to is this:
If you were to go down to the Board of
Trade you would likely get cornered on
wheat (is that the correct term?) and
lose your money. I’ll save you from
loss by keeping you here. Swear the
jury, Mr. Clerk!”— Delroit Free Press.
--A Virginia negro lay aown on a
railroad recently to see it the passenger
train would stop to rouse him up. Tho I
train didn’t
TERMS: SI.OOA. YEAR
pirn aid rotsT.
—Fannie: You are right. It is better
;to return a kiss for a blow; and a great
deal sweeter. — Christian at Work.
—There are some people »o eaten up
with curiosity that they would turn a
rainbow to see what color its back ig.—
i N. Y. Herald.
—One reason why the girls won’t
kiss the cigarette-smoker id because his
■ face is so pale and sallow. He doesn’t
look healthy.— Trenton (N. J.) Times.
i —Whoever doubts that the newspa-
I pers have a mission should enter a car
and see how useful they are to the
mon when a fat woman with a big bas
ket is looking around for a seat.—Low
ell Citizen.
j —A lunatic in charge of his keeper,
wfliile stepping aboard a train the other
day, stepped on a banana-peel and slid
under the car. “Ah!” exclaimed the
keeper, “I am like a disabled locomo
tive, for I’ve slipped my eccentric.”
—“Detrain” is a now word in use in
England. When a body of soldiers
alight from railway cars they “detrain.”
Pretty soon the papers will teem with
“dehorsecar,” “deomnibus,” “dehack,”
“decanalboat,” and so forth.— Chicago
I Herald.
—Minister Hannibal Hamlin is home.
Minister John Russell Young is coming
home, and Minister Sargent wants to
come. Somehow the glitter of foreign
courts never can take the place of
American buckwheat cakes and pump
kin pies in the winter season. — Philadel
phia News.
—Little Willie, son of Mrs. Jennie
Jones Cunningham, has been quite ill
for some time, and sleepless and suffer
ing. The other night, “in the still,
small hours,” he suddenly repeated his
prayer, and then said, “Grandmamma,
ask God not to let the night be so long!”
' —Louisville Courier-Journal.
—A rare pleasure—
Deep on the country roads tho snow
Is sparkling to tho moon.
While, tlecked with foam, the swift steeds
go.
Spurning tho streets of ico below.
And, huddled up in soft, warm fur,
Quite hidden from the traveler,
The lovers softly spoon,
O, what is so rare
As a ride in a sleigh
With a maiden fair.
And none to say nay?
—“Morning! Cold as blazes’s morn
ing,” greeted a business man yesterday.
“Pretty cold, certainly; but why utter
such an absurdity as ‘cold as blazes?’
Blazes are hot, you know.” “What
would you say?” “Oh, say it’s
cold enough to freeze two dry rags
together, or something of that sort.”
The lesson in etymology being over,
both passed on.— Boston Globe.
Aphorisms From the Quarters.
When you make de jail too nice, you
better strenkin’ de hog-pen.
Mule llon’t kick ’cordin to no rule.
Black sheep hide mighty easy in de
dark.
Better keep de rockin’ cheer in de
cabin lof’ tell Sunday.
You can’t coax de mornin’-glory to
clam de wrong way ’round do corn
stalk.
Sat’day night he’p de roomatiz pow
’ful.
High-l’arnt nigger ain’t much service
at de log-rollin’.
Blind bridle can’t hide de fodder
stack sum de loan horse.
Hot sun make de blades dull in de
harves’-fiel’.
Mule don’tunnerstan’ de wheelborrer.
Smart rabbit go home ’fo' de spow
done failin’.
Dead limb on de tree show itse’f when
de buds come out.
Di ibin’ de steers wid mule-talk is
flingin’ ’way yotfr bref.
Tin plate don’t mind drappin’ on de
flo’.
Cussin’ de weather is mighty po’
farmin’.
It takes heap o’ licks to dribe a nail
in de dark.
Good signs o’ rain don’t always he’p
de young crap.
Books don’t tell when de bee-martin
an’ de chicken-hawk fell out.
Don’t take too big a chip on a saplin’.
De public road ain’t free for de rat
tlesnake.
De plovv-p’int is close kin to de meal
bag.
Dar’s some fac's in de wul’ dat don’t
slide ’long on de telegraph-wire.— J. A.
Macon, in The Century.
A Novel Time-Piece.
A man who was appointed watchman
at a mine on the Comstock had no
watch. He did not wish to buy one,
yet was desirous of knowing how tho
time was passing. He borrowed the
wat hos a friend tor one night. On re
turning the watch next day he told his
fnend that he was all right now. that he
had a time-keeper of his own. He then
unrolled a strip of paper some four
inches in width from a stick and ex
hibited it as his clock. On the strip of
pauer ho had marked down, as they
rose above the horizon, all the st rs anil
constellations within a narrow belt.
Opposite each star was tho time of its
making its appearance —hour and min
ute. The watchman says his watch is a
line time-keeper. He has recently im
proved it somewhat. The slip of p per
now runs on two small rollers that are
placed in a small box, which has a slid
ing lid of glass. As tho n ght wears
away and tho stars pass over, he now
turns the crank of his watch and looks
at the time marked by tho side of each.
To wind up is watch he runs the tape
ba k upon the initial roller. Virginia
(Nev.J Enterprise.
—The Pci iiti'tc American says that in
this cotm ry more hoi ers explode in es
lab'islmiouts '.hat use light fuel than in
any other class of manufactories.