Newspaper Page Text
VOL. V.-NO. 24.
CONTENTMENT.
the talk of a shirt.
<. lies the head that wears a crown,”
1 Tboiigh you or I, my friend, will scarce be-
That be who claims both riches and renown
T Can ha'® just cause to grumble or to
grieve.
However this may be. the story' rocs
That in ihe olden time a mon irch grand,
Oppressed w th real or imagined woes,
VSught out the oldest savant in the land.
“Ibou msn of science,” said the unhappy
-Whoconjures gold from sordid bits of
Or tells each one what future years will
bring*
By planets' aspect, at his date of birth-
With all my fame, my power and wealth, 1
find . .
There something lacks, so if you can but
Where I may buy contentment, peace of
A primely’ portion shall be thine this day.”
“Sire,” said the sage, “the boon your high
ness craves
Is alti-get her foreign to my lore—
Not one which may be dug from dead men s
VOS*
Nor wrung by crucible from Mother Na
ture's store.
“Nineleagues away, however, dwells a wight.
An humble cobbler, but an honest man;
The wondrous shirt he wears by day and
night.
They say, contains a spell, and ho who can
“Secure this garment gains content as well.”
At early morn the King went forth alone,
And, when the mellow shades of evening
fell.
He stood before the cobbler's door un
known.
Hesponsive to aknock, the poor man came,
And, brief of speech, the bantering mon
arch said:
“A magic shirt, they tell me, thou dost claim—
My shirt and twenty pornos forthine—is it
a trade 1” ”
His coarser vestment here ho drew aside,
A matchless front of linen to display,
■Which, gem-bedecked and well with broid
ery plied.
But filled the humble craftsman with dis
may.
The wondering cobbler stared, then blush
ing said:
“ Indeed, most gladly would I do so. wer’t
But possible, kind sir: we can not trade.
Because—to tell the truth—l have no
shirt.”
—Texas Siftings.
A HERO OF THE FLOODS.
Nowhere throughout the overflowed
river bottoms of the VV est did the de
vastat ng foods of 1881 come upon peo
ple with such calamitous swiftness, or
cover the country to such depths, as in
the valley of the far-reaching and snow
fed Missouri. Long and b tterly.remem
bered by hundreds, whose homes were
swept away with scarce a moment’s
warning, will be the icy overflow of that
calamitous season.
From all its numerous tributaries,
from the trickling rills of the snow
capped mountains to the broad and
slogglish river Platte, the bands of ice,
suddenly loosed, let forth watery torrents
to swell the mightier river, till it poured
down to the Mississippi with a destruc
tive haste that has never been witnessed
before.
-•lany a tired farmer who went to his
test a'ter a hard day’s work, and
(beamed for a time, perchance, of
P 1 0" ng crops and abundant harvests as
he result of his labors, arose to find his
aim a watery waste, the angry river
already at his very door, and his live
Mock wading and swimming distracted
ly about amid floating masses of ice,
•tushwood and the debris of other
inundated farms above. In vain he
sought to save his horses, his cattle, or
ms household goods; it was often all
e could do to save e.enhis wife and
mile ones.
abroad and well-cultivated farm
t'l' lc r ‘ ebraska side of the Missouri
nere lived a family named Wilson, in a
lame house that stood in a grove of
aige but scattered trees near the bank
oi the stream.
ltlvated Helds and well-fenced stock
vd<- I!eS 'ri Xteu back across the inter
lv sow l was Hark and extreme
hiXS. tie a ’J d lyin « but little above
<nr ii * f er . n,ark - on which account the
sin always caused Mr - w 'l-
es der: l b e uneas >ness. The old
rev'tw i t£ he . reab °uts, however, had
c weft I , h .' s tract t 0 l, e entirely
ownev ’o and , with Mr - Wilson’s
b con P ml en m’ ft 1 ’ as th ° years went
gwing” d b ’ less ened his first mit
foifn h d r Mr re wn e great flood of 1881
and at tlm\- SOU .'J’bolly unprepared,
and iii u-f time of lts coniin S both he
Sey hafoi^ 61 ?- a a bsent from borne.
‘ set a little reluctant about
nearl/mft’ aat be river was swollen
urgent bi m he hl " h ’ wat er mark, but
child and ti S ° n cari * ed her youngest
' ,ld ’ al d there remained at home&n
'laughter^aft] f lftecn ’ and two
th ßu hi l l d . man ’ Rudo a ipl S,X yearS> Wilh
three mfll h i‘ d J’ elatlves living two or
when the ft back from the nver, and
left the house 8 Siu d °u at ni g h t he
was goimr t Henr y that he
w,, ’ild be^back-IM B®® 8 ®® folks,” and
The hr.v 1 ten 0 clock.
•lone of anftlft B ft rs had been left
not afraid before. 'I hey were
"’clock, to sleon « Wen o to bed b ’’ nino
n-n wili. ep 80und b’» as such child
aWOk® thenext niorn
"iudow and th lV Un peepin « in 3t bis
ca k'd to Ru ( i nl 1 t^ nin£ -’; .out of bed he
the habit of ?ft aS ft ,ather Was in
not answer g ' But Huctolph did
chores." 6 thoutm® rl' P and doin f- r the
’Peaking alouf j, Hcnry; and then
’ r emendou s ft ■ h t aid: “What a
this morning u” g th , e river makes
•round u j_ ng " K sounds as if it was all
>■' S’.o"Zh? a 1 i e „'' e il l,e ‘,d
** •“ l» bi. -uftow u““k! m 4 ,h “”
Ultillon Stews.
Stouter hearts than his might have
quailed at the scene which met his eyes.
Everywhere was water—‘a turbid, black,
tumultuous flood dashing up against
the trunks of the great trees, flooding
the stock-yard fences completely out of
sight. Logs, boards and great cold
looking cakes of white ice, even the
bodies of dead cattle, were swept
furiously on. The heads only the
heads and horns -of some of their own
cattle could be seen here and there, as
the poor creatures swam feebly to and
fro.
Looking down in frightened awe from
the open window, the lad saw that the
delving, guttering current had already
attacked the foundation of the house,
which stood considerably higher than
the cattle yards, and that the door
steps below were under water.
As the danger of the situation dawned
upon him, the lad’s terror grew.
Again and again he shouted to Rudolph;
but there was no response save the
rush and roar of the river.
Then he ran to the room of little Jen
nie and Izah, who had already been
awakened by his shouts. With fright
ened sobs the children clung to their
brother, scarcely daring to look out up
on the fearful scene about them.
‘‘Where is Rudolph? Where is Ru
dolph?” they sobbed.
Henry soothed them as best he could,
and leaving them at the head of the
stairway he went below to see how
high the water had risen.
To his increased alarm he found that
the kitchen floor was already covered,
amj. that the muddy water was pouring
in through the cracks about the door.
It was risin r fast—had risen even since
he first looked out upon it.
Then lor a few moments the boy’s
courage almost deserted him; he trem
bled violently and the tears came into
his eyes. “O father! father! why ain’t
you here?” he cried out.
Then the crash of a huge ice-cake
against the door aroused him.
Young as he was he realized that the
house m ist soon be swept away if the
water continued to rise, an I almost
fiercely wiping away hs tears, he tried
to think of some means by whjch he
might save his little sisters and himself.
Through the kitchen w ndow he saw
the trunk of the great elm beneath
which stood the grindstone, only a few
feet from the broad doorsteps—a huge
tree, four or five feet in diameter. The
waters were dashing against its massive
trunk. That, at least, seemed proof
against their utmost strength.
The old elm! The old elm!” he cried.
“If we could only get up among the
big limbs!” And then he formed his
heroic plan amt proceeded to put it into
execution.
The elm had great outstretching
branches, one of the largest of which
extended across a corner o' the kitchen
roof, which was nearly flat and easy of
access from a window in the second
story of the house. Henry had often
climbed out there and mounted the
branch, from which he could ascend
nearly to the top of the tree —a dizzy
height however, which he seldom at
tempted.
“The flood can’t dig the old elm
out,” he thought. “It’s stood there too
long.”
But little Izah and Jennie! he feared
for them. It was as much as he himself
dared do to climb the tree, and he
feared the little girls would grow dizzy
and fall into the rushing water beneath.
The brave boy thought of all this, and
solved the problem in a manner that
speaks well both for his courage and
his invention.
Wading through the water on the
kitchen floor, he reached the wood
shed and there procured his mother’s
clothes-line, also a coil of larger rope
and an old door, besides a number of
loose boards which stood in a corner.
Carrying these up-stairs, where the lit
tle girls stood crying and calling for
“ papa and mamma,"’ he put them out
on the kitchen roof.
“Stop crying, girls,” he exclaimed,
cheerily; “stop your crying. Pa and
ma will be here as soon as they can get a
boat, and I’ll take care of you t ! ll they
come. We’re going to get up in the
big elm and build us a house up there
and take up victuals, 'The water never
will take that old tree away, and we
can live up there like squirrels.”
The energetic lad now sped about the
house to complete h s preparation for
their strange change of abode. Even
little Jennie, the younger sister, caught
something of his courage; ami both the
girls ran about helping in whatever way
they could.
Some loaves of bread, a bucket of
doughnuts, together with dried beef, a
smoked ham, and several woolen
blankets were laid out on the kitchen
roof. Then Henry bound the clothes
line about his waist and climbed on the
great branch, and thence up to the
large limbs above, to a height of some
twenty feet above the rushing waters.
Selecting a spot where two limbs
branched o V parallel with each other,
he now lowered one end o' his rope to
the sisters, for the old door and boards.
Before climbing up he had instructed
them what’to do and how to do it; and
in a very short time the boards, the
door and the coils of rope were hauled
up one after another, and securely
fastened.
The door and boards were t hen placed
on the parallel branches and tied with
the rone; and in this manner a small
floor, or platform, six or eight feet
i square, was laid, large enough for all
three to sit or lie on.
It did not take long now to draw up
the food and blankets: but there still re
mained for the lad the harder and more
perilous task of hoisting up the little
girls to his airy platform.
He had reserved the longest and strong
est rope for this purpose, and looping
it in the middle over a limb and letting
the two ends .‘all to the roof, ho do-
DALTON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 3, 1883. ’
scended and tied an end firmly beneath
the arms of both Izah and Jennie in
turn.
I o climb back to his old position was
but the work of a moment. Then came
the real work. Izah was a plump little
girl, and Jennie was still heavier,
though not as old. They were fright
ened and screamed considerably, but he
hauled them up, one after the other,
safely on to the plat orm.
Meanwhile the wild rushing waters
were steadily rising and had now nearly
reached the kitchen window-sills. Still
larger cakes of ice were driving ponder
ously along among the trees; occasion
ally one ground against the elm, giving
it a heavy, jarring bump, or struck the
walls of tlie house with a force that
made the timbers crack.
'1 he little girls trembled with fear;
and now that the excitement of climb
ing into the tree was over, despair
again seized upon them. In vain Henry
tried to quiet their fears. Great sobs
would we l up in spite of their childish
efforts to be brave.
It was in truth an appalling situation.
Faster poured the ever-rising Hood; and
now the ice-cakes and great drift-logs
Were smashing in the lower window s.
Nothing was left of the stock-yards,
sboils and barn: but here and there
some of the wretched cattle still kept
their heads above water; and more dis
heartening than everything else were
the poor creatures’ mournful lowings.
There was no help for them. Their
drowning was but the question of an
hour or two; everything was going
down beneath the black rolling torrent.
And well might the children feel thank
ful if even the great elm withstood the
battering of the ponderous ice-cakes
which came grinding in among the
scattered trees of the grove.
Henry’s heart almost failed him. It
required his best efforts to keep from
breaking completely down and giving
way to his fright and grief- But mas
tering these terrors at length, he
earnestly set to work to make every
th'ng upon the. platform secure, lie
felt, too, that he ought to save the bed
ding and the most valuable of the
household furniture: for he saw that the
most of it might be hung upon the limbs
of the elm, if only he had dared to de
scend after it into the shattered and
rocking building.
But the creaking and groaning of the
timbers, commingling with the hoarse
gurglings of the water, appalled him.
The house seemed on the point of being
swept away; and sadly he watched it
heave and sw r ay as each fresh mass of
ice came plunging against it.
Fearing to trust the little sjsters upon
the frail platform unsupported, he tied
them securely to limbs above, leaving
the ropes slack enough to allow of their
moving about. Once, for a moment,
he almost made them smile by calling
them his “Lttie ponies picketed out to
grass.” He even tried to tell them
stories, and kept courage in their little
hearts by the assurance that “pa and
ma” would soon come and take them
away in a big boat.
Thus the hours wore on. The house
still stood, but the waters crept higher
and higher, till at noon the river ran
nearly even with the tops of the win
dows. Still the old tree gave no evi
dence of yielding; and at length the
pangs of ’ hunger making themselves
felt, they ate a hearty meal in spite of
their strange and almost desperate situ
ation.
The afternoon passed. Once they
thought they heard distant shouts; but
the tops of the trees prevented them
from looking oil" clearly. Night drew
on: and still the house stood, wonder
fully, as it seemed to Henry.
As night closed darkly in. the little
g’rls cried themselves to sleep, pillow- ]
ing their heads in the lad’s lap: and
thus through all that long and tedious
night, never once closing his own eyes
in slhep, he sat and held them.
Not long after dark Henry heard a
terrific crash, and indistinctly saw the
house melt away amidst the mad waters
beneath him.
When at last day dawned there was
not a familiar landmark to be seen save
the trees; an I many of the smallest of
these had been broken down by the
masses of ice. It was a bitt r awaken
ing for little Izah and Jennie; and it
was long before Henry could again ac
custom them to the terrible dreariness
of their situation.
But help came shortly after daybreak.
Even before the pangs of hunger had
brou<d»'v t-.vm to thins ot oreaKiaw,
cheery voices were heard shouting from
the river above. The neighbors had
espied them on their platform, through
the lea less branches. .
It was a strange ami one that
would have inspired less resolute hearts
to attempt their rescue. The young,
anxious face- expectantly looked out
over the dreary waters, and watched
with hope and delight the etloits ni.ik
ing to save them. It was an hour that
they never would forget.
Cold and hungry, but safe and hap
py, the gallant boy and his little
charges were taken aboard a boat
manned by the faithful Rudolph and
several other young men, who had
worked with energv, but in vain, on
account of the floating ice, to reach
them the dayjbefore
Mr. and Mrs. Wilson were delayed
longer than they had expected; and not
returning till evening of that day, they
learned nothing of the danger to which
the children had been exposed till after
they had seen them safe at the house of
a kind neighbor. — ErunSclin Cdlkins, in
I'uuth's
—I he flower mania to <k an acute
form with a Philadelphia belle, who ap
eared at a ball with eight bouquets,
“be arried two, and the test were held
bv a maid, who stood in an alcove and
ibamzed posies from time to time with i
her mistress.—
Corns.
This very common failing in the
horse is so well known, that any de
, scription of them is quite unnecessary.
, It would, however, be absurd to say that
they are of little consequence, but just
as absurd to reject such a horse because
he had them. He may have very ex
tensive corns, and yet be always sound
on them: or very minute ones to the
e y e < yet be seriously inconvenienced
and lamed by them. Hundreds of
horses have corns without any one sus
pecting it, and as long as a horse re
mained sound, or nearly so, the fact
might never he known. If he becomes
lame, and his feet a e inconsequence of
, it carefully examined, the searching
kni e lets the owner or somebody into
the secret. That becoming known, the
foot properly put to rights, and with a
proper shoe put on, the horse probably
goes sounder than he has for months
; past. If a horse has corns, the princi
pal thing to be looked at is not so much
the soreness ot them, or how far he may
even go lame on them, but the kind of
; food he has. If he has a good wide, or,
; in more stable phrase, open heels and
the wall or cru-t is strone, so as to af
ford good nail hold, we have very little
, fear o’ corns, for such a foot will al
; low the means of taking off pressuer
from them. They will often, in such a
i ease, hold out a pros, ect of dire, or, if
not, of such palliative as amounts to
• nearly as good an effect; that is, feeling
t no inconvenience front them. If, how
; ever, the heels are narrow, it is alm st
inti ossible to prevent the great aggra-
• vation < f the disease, namely, pressure.
• We may even in such a case put away
i super pressure, that is, pressure from
the sh e i n Ihe affected parts; but then
there will remain what is termed lateral
'> pre>sur' , which wi 1 be Let’.v cen the bars
and the heels cr crust < f the foot. These
; bars are intended by nature to act as
props, keeping the heels at their proper
distance apart, and are usually left, say
an eighth of an inch, or more, ab >ve the
! surface of the sole of the foot. When
we say cut away the bars, which in corn
case, is often done, it only means they
are so much low ered as to be on a level
i with the sole; but as the corn is seated
■ below thi-, it will become evident we
cannot, crat least dare not, cut the bars
away deep enough to prevent pre sure
between them and the heel, which, if in
1 close affinity (which is the case in nar
row heels) is very great; in fact, the
corn is in a kind of natural vice, whose
almo t acute angle presses it on either
side. A horse with corns and such
heels should not be bought by any one
[coking for a good horse; he will rarely
be sound three days together; he will
be more or less lame if he is not worked
at all, and work will lame him further
from the soreness and inflammation it
occasions. But should the foot be good
and cool, the horse in work, and sound,
he may safely be bought, however ex
tensive the appearance of the corns
may be; for should even a little tender
ness or soreness be perceived after un
usual work on hard roads, keeping the
feet in war.n water a few hours for a
day or two, *,d a small dose of physic,
w.ll set all right again.
In c ses where soreness comes on
from corns, it the feet are good, we
generally know the worst, and its rem
edy. Su h lameness is not, like failing
of the sinews, 1 kely to be permanent,
or end in helplessnsss. On the con
trary, with care there is no such danger;
but every prospect of ihat care being
recompensed by a comparative or total
soundness of the horse, or, to say the
least, his freedom from lameness.
1 Corns, be they of a better or worse de-
I scription. Will be found to affect a horse
! more or less in accordance with the pur
, pose he is wanted for.— Prairie Fanner.
Saved by His Scissors.
Th, editor carries a beautiful slip of
paper when he travels. He shows it to
the suave conductors and they all ad
mire it. It has the editor’s own name
on it, written in his verv best Sunday
go-to-meetin’ style. That, is what the
conductors particularly like to see, and
they like it so much that they want him
to write it again ip exactly the same fine
style.
The other day the editor exhibited the
beautiful chirography, and the con
ductor as usual requested him to dupli
cate it in another place. The editor
knew he had never written in that stylo
before and never should again, but he
did his level best. The conductor shook
his head.
“Don’t correspond."’ he muttered.
“Best I can do,” said the editor. “Do
you suppose I can dash oft 500 pages
per day and keep up the Piercerian
system of penmanship? Do you -up
pose I can write like that with these
cars of yours banging away at my el
bow?”
“Don’t correspond,” repeated thecon
ductor, ominously.
“Do you imagine I’m not the editor of
this paper?” asked the editor, drawing
out a gilt-edged card and a copy of the
News.
“May be a sub,” suggested the con
ductor. , ,
“Do 1 look like a sub?” inquired the
editor, indignantly, pointing to his dol
lar diamond shirt-studs and finger ring.
“But 1 can prove my identity,’ he
added, with a chuckle of satisfaction.
He whipped out a bright pair oi scis
sors and commenced slashing up that
newspaper into articles at such a i ate
that in two seconds the whole paper
paper would have been converted into
C °“Stop! That will do,” exclaimed the
I ue Xme left. ’ ’ I
That Abominable Ladles’ Hat.
A great deal of space has been taken
up in the papers denouncing the style
of ladies’ hat that shuts out so mu h
landscape They are. indeed, a first
class nuisance, particularly in churches,
theaters, and other places of popular
amusement. These bats, besides being
adorned with enough plumes and
feathers to lit out a hearse, are loaded
down with a large bird. After awhile
we suppose the ladies will wear dead
cats, or a second-hand rut, fora change.
To the theater goer, the big ladies’ hat,
or rather, the big hat of the lady, is a
perpetual source of rage, particularly
if the hat is just in front of him. In
order to see what is being perpetrated
on the stage ho must crane his neck to
the right, and just about the time he :s
becoming interested she leans over to
whisper something very important to
her right-hand neighbor, and once
more the unfortunate man thinks he is
looking at an ostrich. He gets a crick
in his neck trying to see the stage over
her left shoulder, so she his noo 'ca ion
to shut oft" his view from that side, for
he sinks back in despair and into his re
served seat, for which he mulcted him
self in a dollar and a quarter. After the
pain in his neck has fled, the applause
of the audience arouses h m to the fact
that he is not getting the worth o his
money, so he assumes an almost erect
position to look over the a'oresaid os
trich, and just about the time he obta'ns
a glimpse of the hero taking he scalp
of the victim, or pressing the form of
the rescued maiden to his shirt-bosom,
a dozen men behind him yell out:
“Down in front ” He drops into his
dollar and a quarter reserved seat, an I
, he is more reserved than the seat during
the rest of the performance. There
should be a regulation by which all the
women with big hats be placed in seats,
one behind the other, so they may learn
to appreciate how pleasant it is to pay
a dollar and a quarter of hard-eui ed
lucre for the privilege ot looking at the
remains of an ostrich for two or three
mortal hours.
We have never heard of but one in- ’
stance where a man who was sitting be
hind one of those abominable lad os’
hats ever got the advantage of the wear
er of said hat. She wore a hat that was
almost as large as the national debt,
t 'lhe unfortunate man might have as
■ well been down in a cellar, as far as see
j ing the performance on the stage was
concerned. The gentleman eaned over
and informed the lady that her hat pre
vented several persons in the rear from
witnessing the performan e, and a<ke I
her to pie tse remove her hat. She told
him snappishly to mind his own affairs.
She was not a very ni e lady, anyhow.
I The gentleman did not reply, but ho
put on his own hat. At this outrage on
the audience, a dozen gentlemen calle I
out, “takeoff that hat.” The wearer
of the vast hat supposed her hat was
meant, so she got up and indignantly
flounced out ot the I uilding. 'I he gen
tleman had removed his hat in tiie mean •
time, and had a clear view of the stage
during the entire performance. 7’:,. as
Siftings. _
An Old Contention Bone.
Gibraltar is constantly being strength
ened, both by new works and by im
proved guns in place of the old ones. A
100-ton Armstrong breech-loader was
brought here from Woolwich two days
ago, and another is expected before Ihe
end of the mouth. From 5,000 to 0,000
men are constantly stationed here. At
present the force consists of four regi
ments of infantry and one ot artillery,
and as much vigilance is (ji#played by
the military as if a state of War existed
with their easy-going neighbors of Spain.
Between the possessions of the two coun
tries is a piece of flat, sandy soil, about
1,500 yards in length and the same in
width,’known as the “neutral ground,”
on either side of which the English and
Spanish sentries have been at their posts
within sight of each other ever since the
year 1701! — N.
—A new method ot reducing corn to
meal is now in operation at the West,
which, it is said, seems likely to super
sede the old-fashioned mill-stones. The
corn passes over a series of cylinders
provided with fine steel points,revolving
rapidly against fixed knives, each set
finer than the one preceding. The
meal produced is exceedingly fine, there
is claimed a saving of fifty per cent of
power, and the machinery is sp.id to be
less expensive than burr-stones.—A". F.
Post.
—Carefully conducted experiments
have demonstrated the fact that sea
soned wood, well saturated with oil
when put together, will not shrink in
the driest weather. Wheels have been
known to run many years, even to wear
ing out the tires. Very many dollars
might be saved annually if this practice
were adopted. Boiled linseed oil is the
best for general use, although it is now
known that crude petroleum on even
old wheels is of great benefit.— Prairie
Fanner.
—A blind man in Newark, N. J.,
carries on a retail cigar business with
out the aid of a clerk. Ho makes
change perfectly, keeps track of the
various kind of stock, and is reckoned
a clever euchre player. “1 have
picked a certain number of pin-holes,
he said, “in certain places on the
cards, and by sliding m v fingers over
them 1 find out instantly what each
cardis.”
“When you order a new covering i< r
vonr parmn'd, of a particular
Should always give the shad., my ki /
it 1 /
j “•••‘ ,l> 1 ...» /'
Sc Vvims College
TERMS: SI.OOA TEAR
HUMOROUS. i
—-“And what do you call that?"
asked the inquisitive visitor, pointing to
a mutilated statue “That is a torsi,,’’
replied the sculptor. “ H’m,” mut
tered the i. v., “ but how did it become
torso?” He was tenderly kicked out
—An article entitled “Howto Wash
the Baby” is going the rounds of the
press. I’ersons who read it will be sur
prised to learn that the infant swashed
with water, but is not run through a
wringing machine and hung out on the
line to dry.— Norristown Herald.
—“1 am sorry to inform you,” said
a num to an Arkansas gentleman, “that
your son has been killed in a balloon
ascension.” "How?” asked the gen
tleman. “Well, you see, he went up
with the professor and the balloon
dropped suddenly and killed both of
them "’ “So it was the descension that
killed him? My friend, when you comj
into this neighborhood with a piece of
information, give it straight.”—Arkan
. sas Traveler.
—Wee Johnnie was riding on the
ears with his mother and dropped on
the floor one of the peanuts he was eat
ing. After he had finished the others
he began to climb down to get the orm
on the floor, but his mother stopped
him. saying that he could not have it.
lie knew that his mother would not
change her mind, and he sat st ill in si
lence for several minutes. But he could
endure it no longer, and soon a piti
ful little voice piped out: “Mother,
can’t I get down on the floor and look
at that peanut?”
—Rev. George T. Rider, in his North
American llevieio article on journalism,
says: "A latter day parvenue.its ephem
eral flutter, its perpetual coming and
going, its very irridescence transeiency
and unresting liux constitute its ratsow
(I etre. * * * Its illumination is
cohl. auroral, spectral, as of the cere
brum.’ (If course; to be sure; cer
tainly. We never said it wasn't and
we shall anxiously look for a solution of
Mr. Rider’s puzzle in the next n nnber
of the llcview. We could never guess
it.— Norristown Herald.
—Charley B: Do we need a correspond
ent al Des’Moines? No, < barley, wo
do not. Des Moines is the only place
where we do not need a correspondent.
We joyfully wallow in correspondence
from every other place on this broad
continent, but we cannot have a corre
spondent at Des Moines. An early
flame of ours lives in Des Moines. We
are parted now forever. It was not
tha our love cooled, or that she died
xoung. No, Charles, the trouble we
had with that love affair was not that
she died young, but that her father
didn’t. The bull dog likewise, was not
at a'l tired. You see now why we have
hallowed associations with Dei Moines
which makes it painful to us to read
correspondence from tint place.—
Puck.
Making Money With Money.
j Ho was a sharp-featurred, shrew-eyed
I old gentleman, and he sat in one of the
I Boston police stations recently, listening
attentively to a select assortment of yarns
about counterfeiters, suggested by the
' newspaper mention of the numerous
petty cases of this nature pending before
tho United States District Court. “Well,
s well,” he remarked finally, with a half
s sigh for the degeneracy of these times,
3 “roguery isn’t what it used to be. lean
' remember when it took some brains to
t make a good rascal. To work off tho
bogus half-dollars, one dollars, fives and
, so on for the genuine thing is all very
>’ well in its way, but what do you think
' of a fellow who gave away square money
• as counterfeit and made a little fortuvsoi
■ out of the business? Impossible?
t no. When I was a detective, and J > <j.
3 not so many years ago, I came in co'
.with just such a chap. You 11 fi B __
1 facte of the case in the
records. And the way horw.. «!’ S
was this : He first sent out to fi
postmasters and others an ingt.' Aa ,
, gotten up circular, in which be
to supply them with a remarkably
rate counterfeit $1 bill, merely a»*J
curiosity. This would be tent to
paid for when received by a good 31
bill, in case the receiver cared to keep
it; otherwise it was to be returned.
There were a good many responses to
this circular, but the young man in
stead of sending out bad bills, inclose
genuine ones in his letters, and a.so a
notice that he would be pleased tosup
ply the same at S3O per hundred. Now
the susceptible postmaster careful v ex
amined the bill he had received, showed
! it to his friends, and, perhaps, the cashier
! of the town bank, and everyone, of course,
| pronounced it genuine. 8° not a tew
: rural parties thought that 100 of them
. would bo very handy in hard times, am
the requisite S3O was forwarded. - i>
that was always the last heard of the S3O.
To be sure, some of the bait money was
lost, but not much. The victims could
not bring a complaint against the swin
dler without criminating themselves and
so he flourished for some time. But at
, length the United States authorities got
■ hold of the matter and arrested the prom
i ising young scoundrel on an indictment
> for counterfeiting. What wm his de
! tense ? Why, he merely called attention
i to the fact that he had not counterfeited
at all; he had dealt only in f Mi nme bills.
The court could not hold him. Subse
quently, however. I believe that he was
arrested and convicted, but on an entire
ly different indictment.
-Several
ceived in cloves, made
' found to soaked mthe
of soft wood, stamed, a theul «n od-'r.
ewence of c *° v ™£ g Zanzibar, but
They were importer
where Zrom W