Newspaper Page Text
VOL. V.-NO. 26.
tH E WAS»EB*«’ S SONO.
BI MBS. J. «■ Koo! ' , ‘-
WD through th* rough and wintry world
, -r.trhedness I roam,
love I breathe the name.
Os father, mother, home.
The’ 1*« 0M in BWeet
Tobmhood'fnnleaadaje,
rj thorM had piereed my wearj feet
In deaolated ways;
Back to the dear old orchard tree 3,
Ret out hr father’s hand,
Bennth who* ahade the perfumed breeze
My boyish brow has fanned,
While I in ailent wonder lay
Upon the velvet grass
And watched in joy life’s fancied play
In panorama pass.
Ah,me! 'tiewell those dreams were gold.
Their memory gilds the lead
Os real life, when hearts grow co.a
And dreamless as the dead.
I! there is aught in us survives
The fearful wreck of death,
Ths mother-love that warms our lives
fa Unto the latest breath
Must be the part, the deathless link
That binds the soul to God:
That sings to it of heaven and home
And lifts it from the clod.
Nevada’s First Nugget.
Nevada's first nugget was mined with
a butcher's knife. Joint Orr started
across the plains in 1849. The roads
were bad, the weather was worse, and he
was obliged to remain through the winter
at Salt Lake. In April he resumed his
journey. He had a partner named Nick
Kelly,' after whom Kelly’s ravine is
named, and in the company was William
Prouse, now living in Nurb City, about
forty miles southeast of Salt Lake,
grouse had worked in mines before gold
Bas discovered at Coloma, and was a good
prospector. One day the train stopped
on the edge of what is now known as
Gold Canon, near the Carson River, to
let the animals feed on some bunch grass
found growing near the sage brush.
Prouse, at noontime, took a milk pan,
and going down to the gulch began wash
ing dirt, in a few minutes getting color
to the value of a few cents. Orr then
named the place Gold Canon. The train
soon after resumed travel, going to the
head of Carson Valley. There they met
a party of seven, who had left the train
at the sink of the Humboldt, intending
to go in advance to California and select
good locations for the remainder of the
party. They had been unable to cross
the country, and had been lost in the
snow in the mountains for fotir or five
days, unable to find the divide in Hager
town. A stay in Carson for three weeks
followed, when Orr, Kelly and several
others returned to Gold Canon and re
sumed prospecting. Kelly and Orr went
up the canon until a little fork was
reached, when work was begun. The
’arty had few tools, and On’had nothing
mt a knife. AAOiile Kelly was working
he noticed a very narrow place at the
ork, where the water barely covered a
a) of slate rock. Idly he examined it,
, noticed a small crevice near the
edge, drove the knife into it, breaking
out a piece. The water running over it
gashed away the underlaying dirt, and in
ew mmutes he discovered a gold nug
where the rock had covered it. It
fomd q m >kly . I V m< ’ ved - and afterward
W S ’ 25 ' Tl »s was the
ProsnecHn ’ 185 °’ ]UBt tllirty years a S°-
di X T Cni,tln ” ed > aad though
0 t thf fonnd ln Bevera l places through
out the canon Orr’s was the only nug
the first pv 1 <• laS i in llis Possession,
ne nrst ever found in Nevada.
Then He Continued.
.IrS’a* 1 "S? SOated » Dclroil
teT 'h. 11 ! 8 olh<!i ; i,a - v » ii| > ‘W'
*eet on the stove and a cigar in each
faouth, when a boy looked in and yelled
outher?!’’ 01 J ° U had * horse hitched
of thVsltter!. 1 dld ’’ <!Uietly re P lied on e
“ Well, he’s gone.”
“Ihd he walk off?”
»nd N u°Dse a t r t U ho horsc J ca me along
him.” cutter and frightenel
cutter’” he kick himself dear of the
“Yes.”
Btartoff?”° SCd he Wol,ld ’ ’low did he
I ”iv?L ead ron ”
’ h 'ch way?”
“ M°° dward
"i hJdili “ Montealm strcetF ”
’»> b± b, >'«»■» home and
go up. Bub> J? 0 s ? raewh ere when I
* me "ho ’ y nJ d, aw the cutter
J’s and " p lhe k ' ntl -
ha ‘f a mile on A 7to draW a cutter
ter relighted his rto^ nner ’ 1 and “t*
f °"As f, ‘ et ’ and ’ gOt a n<3W braCG
thi X i ay !? g : cvery si gn indi
conflAgration- u to be a year of great
’* calamitie S SO m el,n i leS - Seems “
the world I ”° V n d * ln waves
” world. .Detroit Free
Sceronh Pret much ou ‘ of
somewhafTm a to actin g?”
rt interviewer rtWeat
Jwry. But tha’lJi ddreßßed to Mrs
ft on - * 'One ¥ y T v qual the
i ' In « society ” 8 d ’“1 hav ° “uch
Dexmart
‘ he Vnited bntter f han
“ ore than one-t4’en £u Ugh she has ™’t
as w e- and it costa ?l ’ th “ “ auy °° w «
du « butter there to pr °’
“’’'■wvi.tonr
me an . lllg ‘. Teacher—
. b”me folks u 8 e buH a,Ul : le '” ScholJ
«lar4 is gOO 4 !’ u t mother says
enough for anybody.”
®lj)c Balton Bretts
Coats to Let.
coats to rent for New
Year’s calls,” was the somewhat novel
advertisement of an enterprising firm
in yesterday’s Globe-Democrat. Indeed,
the idea of renting dress suits to be worn
on swell occasions seemed so singular
and so novel a feature of social economy
that a Globe-Democrat reporter thought
it worth investigating. “Bless you, it
is not a new idea,” said the enterpris
ing dealer. “True, it is rather new in
St. Louis, but in New York it has long
been the custom. The establishment
there, on Crosby street, has made a
specialty of it, and built up a big busi
ness.”
“Do you find much call for your
clothes on such times?” asked the re
porter.
“Dear. yes. We have on hand now
about fifty dress coats and vests, and
fully half of them are spoken for al
ready for Monday. We don’t let any
thing but coats and vests, and of course
we have all sizes and can fit any figure.
Those who come first get the first
choice. By to-morrow night we don’t
expect to have a single garment left,
and on Monday they’ll all be doing duty
in fashionable society.”
. “What kind of people hire these gar
ments?”
“All kinds that don’t happen to own
a dress suit, need one, and don’t want
to or can’t afford to buy one. It is
really a very sensible custom, odd as it
may’seem. There are lots of people
who go in society who can’t afford to
pay seventy-five dollars for a dress suit
to be worn only occasionally. Why
shouldn't they hire one if they can? Our
customers are mostly young men of
moderate means. They come here, put
up twenty-five dollars deposit, we let
them have a suit, and when they return
it in as good order as when they got it,
we return it less the rental, which is
three dollars a day.”
“When do you find most demand for
the clothes?”
“Well, of course, New Year’s is the
most active time, but our garments are
on the go pretty much all the time. We
are constantly fitting out people for
dinner-parties, balls,weddings, theaters,
and all that. We’ve already got orders
for Nilsson’s concerts, which are going
to be very swell. Then we fit out young
men who have to appear on the stage in
full-dress at private theatricals. Nearly
all entertainments at the Pickwick
theater by amateurs create a demand
for our garments.”
“Do you supply other clothes besides
swallow-tails?” asked the reporter.
“Oh, yes. We have walking-suits,
Prince Albert coats, light trousers, and
other clothes that we hire out. They
go mostly, however, to stage people.
You don’t know how many actors there
are here who depend upon us to fit
them out in society dramas. You know
sometimes an actor in a society play
has to appear in half a dozen fashion
able suits of an evening. They are
nearly always hired for the occasion.
But few actors can afford to buy so ex
tensive K wardrobe as they require for
the stage, and by renting they can get
a greater variety. So they rent and
think nothing of it. Oh, this renting
clothes is getting to be quite a business,
and a profitable one.”
“Do you have much trouble fitting
people with swallow-tails?”
“ No, we have a great many regular
customers and we try and give them the
same coat every time. Sometimes their
garment is out and we have to shin
around to fit them, but as a rule they get
the same coat. The coats are all first
class, as you perceive,” and the dealer
led the way to a large wardrobe where
the swallow-tails hung in rows, with
their sizes on cards pinned to them.
They were mostly of fine cloth, silk
lined and faced, and none of them
showed much sign of wear. “These
will be out New Year’s,” said the deal
er, “every one of them, and they will
all come back in good order Do we
rent to everybody? No; none but re
spectable and genteel people can hire
these garments. We have a few half
worn floats, a little out of style, that we
sometimes let to common people for
ballsand weddings, and we have also a
dozen or so of Prince Albert coats that
we keep on hand for funerals, but the
most of our trade in this line is with the
best of people.” Just then a boy handed
the gentleman three letters. “Yes, I
thought so,” said he, glancing over
them, “orders for three more for Mon
day—three old customers,” and he
turned away to register the orders and
lay away the garments.— St. Louis
Globe-Democrat.
In the Street.
A gentleman interested in prisoners
visited a man in jail, waiting to be tried
for a crime.
“Sir,” said the prisoner, tears running
down his cheeks, “I had a good home
education. My street education ruined
me. I used to slip out of the house, and
go off with the boys in the street.
“In the street I learned to lounge; in
the street I learned to swear; in the street
I learned to smoke; in the street I learned
to gamble; in the street I learned to pil
fer, and to do all evil. O sir, it is in the
street the devil lurks to work the ruin of
the young!”
—Mr. James Payn, the novelist, once
corresponded with the editor of an
American magazine, and told some gen
tlemanly “club stories.” One day he
received a letter from the proprietors of
the magazine delicately hinting that h<*
was correspondinß with a lady.
A glass bottle so focused the sun's
rays in Alyth, Scotland, as to set file to
ft house,
DALTON, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 1883.
Journalism Abroad.
One of the curious differences between
English and French journalism is that
the British press gives to sport and
stocks about the same space that the
Gallic journals accord to art and litera
ture. A week or two in London makes
an American w’ho has been living in
Paris wonder why the English do not
take as much interest in their great
men’s daily doings as in the movements
on the race-course. The other day,
when James Rice, the popular novelist,
died, the Standard gave him two lines,
but bestowed a column and a half of
solid print on the festivities attending
the awarding of some “cup” after a
horse race. Mr. Anthony Trollope re
ceived a half column in most of the
leading journals the other day, but he
had to die before he could achieve this
distinction. A blackguard who strikes
somebody in the eye and then kicks the
policeman who arrests him has his ex
ploits chronicled in a lengthy narrative.
His remarks before the “learned Judge,”
as the English reporters invariably call
the magistrate, are set down with Bos
wellian fidelity, and the appearance of
the person is described as minutely as
if he had done a good rather than a bad
deed. But of the charming, and, on the
whole, quite permissible personalities
about contemporary novelists, editors,
painters, etchers, engravers, publishers,
musicians and poets which one finds in
such a profusion in the Parisian press,
there is little, or nothing, in the London
papers. The British celebrity pretends
that he would be horrified at the free
and easy discussion of his mental at
tributes and his personal appearance
which is considered allowable in France
and America. But I will venture to say
that there is a very large portion of the
reading public in the British islands
which would be delighted to know
more about the human and less of the
equine celebrities of their country.
When a new comedy is brought out
in London, the papers indulge in one
article of very moderate length about
the piece and its author, and then they
drop both, as if the editors had said; in
concert, “Thank heaven! that’s over;
now we can return to horse and cricket
or, we can dish up a beautiful stew of
Irish or Afghan politics—just the thing
for these gloomy winter mornings!”
For a good old-fashioned, ghastly mur
der, accompanied by the utmost bru
tality, the editors are ready to give up
several columns, and to have “one ac
count,” “another account,” “account
from a relative of the deceased,” etc. It
does not seem to occur to the editorial
mind that by bringing before the public
all the picturesque and interesting mem
bers of the liberal guilds, piquancy and
grace are added to journalism, and peo
ple are taught to think about something
besides the most grim and unpleasant
realties of life. But no! the World,
Truth, and other weekly papers of that
ilk, which were started for the express
purpose of supplying the deficiency al
ready remarked in the daily press, are
looked askance at by English society.
Perhaps this is because the pioneers in
this kind of journalism, heretofore un
used in England, have not yet learned
exactly where to “draw the line.” In
France it is understood and the law
backs up the understanding—that to
enter into details of the private life of a
celebrated man or woman is forbidden,
unless the person becomes outrageously
conspicuous. But everything about
a public career is considered fit
subject for public gossip. The result is
that—given two persons of equal talent
—both meriting distinction—one an Eng
lishman in England—the other a French
man in France—and the Frenchman at
forty will have a national reputation,
and will be a familiar and celebrated
figure wherever he goes, while the Eng
lishman will be known only to his read
ers and to the members of the social
circle in which he moves.
When one reflects how mighty the
intellectual movement of London is,
with its hundreds of publishing houses,
its dozens of theaters, its operas, its
salons crowded with witty and brilliant
folk from ali the ends of the earth, its
academies and museums and studios,
one can not help considering it phenom
enal that so little, reflection of this
higher life is seen in the daily press. It
would seem as if the newspaper pub
lishers had voluntarily closed the most
attractive of all the fields against their
readers. I will venture to say that a
foreigner who reads Labouchere’s Truth
in weekly installments for one year will
get a clear and more comprehensive
idea of life in London and the British
islands than he will by perusing the
daily issues of the Times during the
same period. But Labouchere, in his
clever weekly, perpetually offends up
-I>cr-class British prejudice against pub
icitv. — Boston Journal.
-1 ■ ■
a rorgoueii unci«
The tearing down of an antiquated
house at St. Augustine, Fla., brought to
light a rusty sword. To it is attached a
story. Eighty years ago, at a grand
ball given by the Spanish gentleman
who lived in the house, two officers came
to high words over the attentions paid
by them to a beautiful lady present.
They repaired to the street and fought a
duel with swords. One man fell death
The other threw away his weapon and
fled. A little child that had been a wit
ness to the encounter picked up the
sword and carried it into the house. It
was hidden that at least one evidence of
the bloody deed might be concealed.
Long after the story of the crime had
been forgotten the finding of the blood- I
stained blade calls it anew to mind.— I
St. Augustine Herald. i
—ln tt-eTmiea Biates one P®”"” .
285 G said to be a pauper; m Englan | u
one in thirty-five.
A Word to Farmers.
i Now, while seed-time is far distant,
t farmers should examine their seed
-1 corn.
s Last season was cold and late, and
■ much soil that was planted failed to
s germinate by reason of the co’d, damp
i | soil, while that which managed to start
t ! grew but slowly and sickly, and was
t Jlong in maturing, so that ’when cold
i weather came on all was more or less
, soft, and the autumn being cool it hard
, : ened but slowly.
, Much was entirely ruined for seed by
f the early frosts, and nearly all has since
r had its vitality destroyed by the cold
i ■ snap in early December which froze the
. j but partly-dried germs.
3 j Those farmers who, early in the fall,
3 ' fearing that there would be but little
s corn suitable for seed, gathered their
3 seed cars from fields uninjured b, the
3 frosts and hung them in airy drying
’ places, may be pretty certain that they
will experience no inconvenience from
i their seed not germinating: but still it
1 may be best to test its vitality, and for
doing so there is no time like the pres
s ent.
9 A good method is to select a hundred
I kernels indiscrim nately from your
3 seed-ears and place them between two
g woolen cloths, which mur' be kept
damp and in a place of sevei / degrees,
' Fahrenheit’s, or in theordin. .■yteinper
’ at re of a living room in winter; or the
kernels may be pla ed in a glass bottle
] and covered with water, and hung in
g the w ndow or near the fire; or if con
s venient place the kernels in a shallow
box of earth.
, In a few days, if the seeds are good,
3 the sprouts will begin bursting their in-
< teguments, and then the germinated
j kernels can 1 e counted and the per
cent, that will deve’op is readily ascer
’ tained, and plans made accordingly.
a It is surprising what a small number
" of kernels have vitality the present
. Beason.
The majority of farmers select their
' . seed-ears when husking, as in this man
t 1 ner they obtain the best and most pro
,T ductive ears; but th s year such farm
* ers have performed a los'ng labor.
? Those farmers who examined their
J corn during the time that the mercury
1 fell so low in December, noticed it
; looked dark, as though it had been
cooked, and on breaking the covering
found the sprouts frozen. Comj laints
of this nature come from all ] arts of
’ the country.
k Such corn, of-course, will never ger
minate. and it will be necessary to ob
, tain old corn for seed or produce no
corn. 'There is but little old corn in
the country, and. if any can be found,
j every farmer should obtain enough of
it for seed. Probably a good price wilt
be asked for it, but it is better to pay a
> good price for good seed, than a poor
' price for poor seed.
’ New corn is bringing a low price at
, present, as much of it is souring in the
5 cribs and dealers are loth to take it,
but probably before another summer it
! will touch a high price. Old corn is
sound and reliable, and prices paid for
1 it seem fancy, though not in reality so,
' as it is much superior to the new.
Farmers' time and labor are not
1 pressing us at present, and we can bet
ter a ’ord to give a little attention to
' our seed now, and be sure of a good
1 crop, than to labor all the spring and
find our seed refusing to start, and
be obliged to hunt up some old corn,
‘ if any can be had. and plant all our
1 fields over aga'n right in the busiest
1 Beason. — Prairie Farmer.
A Comedy of Errors.
A ludicrous incident recently took
place in Liverpool. There are two
broth rs who parted many years ago
when boys, one of them going to Amer
ica to seek his fortune and the other
remain ng in Liverpool to make it.
They have both been eminently success
ful in this respect, and not long ago the
brother in America determined to visit
the brother in England. The time of
the visit was settled by correspondence,
and the American set sail. The English
man is a notorious wag, and arranged
that an acquaintance should meet the
American as h s brother and conduct
him to the hotel. The American, who
was also a great wag, on the trip de
cided to play exactly the same joke on
his brother, asking an acqua ntance
whom he had met on the ship to per
sonate him for a few hours. The ac
quaintance entered into the spirit of
the joke, and w’hen the vessel arrived
at Liverpool was found by the person
ator of the English brother and driven
to the hotel. The real American broth
er followed more leisurely, chuckling
over his joke. In the meanwhile the
English brother had also gone to the
hotel, bursting with merriment over his
joke. It happened that the two real
brothers met in the lobby of the hotel,
and, though they had been parted so
many years, they knew each other. At
first, with blank amazement, they
greeted each other; and then, as they
explained their mutual jokes, laughed
long and heartily. But the climax was
yet to be reached. An explanation in
regard to the gentlemen who had per
sonated them, and who were now, as
thev imagined, playing a huge joke on
each other, showed that they also were
brothers who had been separated from
boyhood, but who did not know each
other when thev met. The first pair of
brothers hurried up to their parlor, and
a'ter the situation had been explained
all around, the comedy of errors was
pleasantly ended by an old-fashioned /
I English dinner. — London Jrudi. I
' Faintino a window shutter is i n (food i J
diid in more ways than one. It heJr« | ,
blind.
The Speed and Size of Atlantic Waves.
The London Nautical Magazine con
tains an article by Captain Kiddle, the
Atlantic steamship commander, on the
height and velocity of Atlantic waves a
subject which, as he says, is to seamen
one of the most important of tl.e day. |
It has been assorted that the average
velocity of great Atlantic waves is about ,
nine m les an hour. But Captain Kid
dle states that he has frequently meas- ,
tired the speed in Atlantic gales and '
found it “twenty-live miles per hour,
plus the rate at which the ship was
steam ng through the water when nearly I
or quite head to wind (say four knots
an hour.” This estimate is no doubt
much nearer the truth than the former, j
1 r. Scoresby gave the rate of travel for
waves of the ?argest size at about thirty
two miles an hour, and Lieutenant I
Maury gave it as rarely exceeding
thirty mdes while other observers men
tionstill higher figures as occasionally at- |
ta ned by waves of excessive length. It i
is known that some of the great Atlan
t c gales which assail the British coasts |
move progressively, as the English I
meteorologist Ley recently recorded, at j
a rate of more than sixty miles an hour, i
and it is, therefore, highly probable
that in the severest hurricanes the ocean
wave may be driven w ith greater force
than even the most observant naviga
tors suppose. Admiral Fitzroy men
tions that Scoresby was skeptical as to
the reports of seamen who recorded
waves thirty feet high until his last voy- 1
age, when he made measurements of
some exceeding this height. According j
to Captain Kiddle the height from the I
trough to crest occasionally exceeds I
forty feet. The question is one of great I
interest to safe navigation in the heavy i
Atlantic winter gales, and the able ofli- j
cers of Atlantic steamships would do |
well to make careful observations on
the height,' length and velocity of the
“mountainous seas” they encounter.
Birds on the Farm.
The utility of birds in agriculture,
particularly the utility of certain species
of birds, has been the subject of much
discussion for many years. Audubon
and perhaps other of the earlier natural
ists oid not always have the means with
W'hich to publish the knowledge they
gain d concerning the habits of the
birds an I animals which they watched,
and some of the later ornithologists
have found the field of discovery so
large that they have had little time to
do more than describe the distinguishing I
features of the numerous species. The
farmer has formed opinions concerning
the good and evil done by the birds
which inhabit his fields and find protec
tion about his buildings but often these
opinions have been formed without that
careful method of obseiwation required
to determine a fact or settle a question
beyond dispute.
The variety of op’nions held by differ
ent persons concerning the real value
of the English sparrow brought to this
country some years ago, ami the crow
and robin, so common in our fields, is
an illustration of the difficulty ordinary
observers experience in coming to a
unanimous conclusion. Prof. W. A.
Stearns, of the Massachusetts Agricult
ural College, in hi s recent address be
fore the Connecticut State Board of
Agriculture, discussed the bird question <
from the standpoint of an educated obser <
ver, who has given many j dars of study
to his subject, and yet he was far from
claiming that he knew all that ought to ]
be known even about some of our com
monest species.
ah Amusing story.
“From grave to gay” is the order of
life, and of newspapers as well—so we
revive the old and amusing story of the
miller who sometimes had crazy fits, in
which he always imagined himself to be
the Lord judging the world.
On these occasions he would put on a
paper crown, ascend a pile of meal-bags
with great dignity, and call his neigh
bors in succession. The same ones were
always judged; and they were the millers
of his vicinity.
The first one summoned was Ilans
Schmidt.
“Hans Schmidt, stand oop.”
“Hans, vat is been your pishness in
dat oder world?”
“I vas a miller, O, Lort!”
“Vas you a yoost man?”
“Veil, ven the vater was low, and the
pishness is pad, O, Lort, I Bomedimes
dakes aleetle exdra doles.”
“Veil, Hans, you shall go ofer mit te
gotes, already yet.”
And so in succession all were tried
and immediately sentenced to go over to
the goats.
Last of all, the miller invariably tried
liimself in the following style:
“Jacob Miller, stand oop.”
“Jacob, vat vas your pishness in dat
oder world?”
“I vas a miller, O, Lort.”
“Vas you always a yoost man, Ja
cob ?”
“Veil, O, Lort, ven de vater was a
leetle low and de pishness vas bad, I
somedimes (lakes some leetle extra doles;
but, O, Lort, I all de vile gives dose extra
doles to de poor. ”
(After a long pause)—“Veil, Jacob
Miller, you can go ofer mit do sheeps—
but it vas von tivht saueezef”
» ——■
Molly Fancher can see with the tej
of her head, nnd tell what time it is In
n watch laid on it. There used to he an
old woman in Belgium who eogld erne I
nith her right ear, and now cornea Adi
Kindaek Murray, who can hear with hix
mouth. He pu blishea hia remm>«cenees /
under the title, “What the Keg 7old
jle. ” —Andrews’ (Jueen, {
TERMS; SI.OOA YEAR
WAIFS ASH WHIMS.
The shades of night go about dewing
good.
Very few hens lay at the point of
death.
i The baby is musical because he has
arrived at the bandage.
I They dress expensively who go to the
lawyer for their suits.
Sparking across a garden fence ad
mits of a good deal being said on boH'
sides.
| After all, it was a girl, ami not a J '
who “stood on the burning deck”—it ww
Cassie B. Anea.
I A mechanic wants to know if the com
pany for the making of artificial limbs is
a joint stock one.
The Boston Transcript has discovered
that we meet a great many warm friends
during the heated term.
One man was threatening to whip
another. “Well,” said the other, “a
i bull can whip a philosopher.”
An Illinois girl’s toast—“ The young
I men of America—Their arms our sup
i port, our arms their reward; fall in, men,
fall in.”
An elderly maiden lady, hearing it re
marked that matches are made in
heaven, remarked that she didn’t care a
cent how soon she went there.
“An experienced cutter” is advertised
for in the New York JUorW. They
' doubtless want him to bobtail paragraphs
I for their humorous column.
| McFlannery heard a gentleman say
Jof another that he had a too benign
countenance, and remarked: “A 2be 9
> countenance! Phwat a face, to bo
■ sure!”
An old lady says she never could im
agine where all the Smiths came from
until she saw, in a New England town, a
large sign, “Smith Manufacturing Com
pany.”
A gentleman advertises that his por
trait (in oils) has been stolen. Theve is
nothing remarkable about this, though,
for every one is having his likeness taken
nowadays.
The word “dear” is one of the greatest
inventions in the English language.
Every married man can say “my dear
wife” and no one can tell just exactly
what he means.
“In the sentence, ‘John strikes Wil
liam,’ ” remarked a school teacher,
“what is the object of strikes?” “Higher
wages and less work,” promptly replied
the intelligent youth.
j A Frenchman cannot pronounce
“ship.” The word sounds “sheep” in
his mouth. Seeing an iron-clad, he said
to a boy. “Is dis a war sheep?” “No,”
answered the boy, “it’s a ram.”
If you get in a passion, my dear
friend, don’t fly around and swear, and
make all manner of foolish assertions.
Just steal away and lie down in the sun
a while. A soft tan, sir, turneth away
wrath.
A mother noticing her little daughter
wq e her mouth with her dress sleeve,
asked her what her handkerchief was for.
Said the little one: “It is to shake at the
ladies in the street. That is what papa
does with bis.”
When a Missouri grocer got up in a
revival meeting and owned up that he
had sold dollar tea out of the tifty-cent
chest forover ten years, the brethren were
eery backward about telling him that ho
voiild hope for forgiveness.
“Dashaway is a great reader, isn’t
he?” asked Jones, the unsophisticated.
“ Never heard that he was. Why do
you ask?” Smith replied. “ Why, at the
races, the other day, while the rest of us
were enjoying the sport, he talked of
nothing but his books.” “Oh ! ’
“Mamma,” said a little girl, “as peo
ple get old does their hair grow quarrel
some?” “Why no, my child! What
ever put such a notion in your head?"
“I thought it must be so, ma, because I
heard that old people’s hair is constantly
falling out.”
The New York Timet asks: “Can
women enjoy a heaven deprived of wed
dings?” That depends. If new styles
bonnets make their appearance every
s her week, women will manage to feel
i ®l’Py without a marriage to their back.
—Norristown Herald.
Krupp, the cannon maker, says he
never had the least success in his busi
ness until he began to drink beer and
smoke.— Detroit Free Press. Beer may
not hurt him, if he indulges moderately;
but we should think that to drink smoko
would be pretty harden the constitution.
A five-year-old son of a family the
other day stood watching his ba,by
brother, who was making a great noise
over having his face washed. The little
fellow at length lost his patience, and
stamping bis tiny foot, said, “You think
you have lots of trouble, but you don’t
know anything about it. Wait till you re
big enough to get a lickin’, and then
you’ll see, won’t he, mamma?”
—A sewing girl employed in a New
York shirt factory has found out now
why the wearing of hoop-skirts was
prohibited by the proprietors. She dis
obeyed it the other day, and had not
long been at work when she felt herself
seized by the shafting and wound
around it, escaping with her life and
two broken logs. She will try and not
bo so fashionable hereafter.
—The southern pcet, Paul H. Bayne.
/ employed
‘the
in the process; result, tniny
frightfully hurt,