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tlailc Conntii stw§
TRENTON, GEORGIA.
Belva Lockwood says that woman is
improving intellectually thirteen per
cent, faster than man.
'There are eight mission ships now
cruising in the North Sea, each a com
bination of church, chapel, temperance
hall aud dispensary.
Alaska cost the United States $7,000,-
000, and the Fur Seal Company has
already paid our Government over
$8,000,000 for the privileges it enjoys of
talcing seals from the Territorial waters.
The new Duchess of Marlborough has
set out to make Blemheim Castle spick
and span, and was astounded the other
day. to find that the mending of its roof
in a trustworthy manner would cost just
150,000 of her good American dollars.
It is tolerably clear now, says the New
York Sun, that the English harvest will
yield less than 55,00), 000 bushels.
European crops are fifteen per cent,
under the average, but India, Australia
aud Africa give a goodsurplu3. Prices
have advanced one to two cents a
bushel.
The Washington correspondent of the
New York World say 3: “A movement
is on foot among Southern capitalists to
secure a good grade of English colonists.
A Southern capitalist told me that he be
longed to a syndicate which was offering
inducements to English manufacturers
to come to the best districts of the South
with their entire plants. Especial in
ducements are to be offered to cotton
spinners.”
This is reported as the greatest water
melon year the Georgians have had in a
decade. A Savannah paper reports the
number of carloads shipped from the
State at 7055. 'The average number of
melons per carload is 1100, making
about 7,800,000 melons already shipped.
The estimate for th ; remainder of the
season is 35,000, making the total crop,
beside home consumption, 7,835,000
melons, the total v alue of which is placed
at $1,500,000.
Captain Yangele, in an interview at
Brussels, Belgium, stated that he be
lieved that he himself was the mysterious
“White Pasha” reported by the natives
as being in the Bahr-el-Ghazel Province
of Africa. The Captain has just re
turned from the Congo country, and
says that at the beginning of the year
he had conflicts with the natives in the
neighborhood of that province. ( aptain
Yangelc’s description would answer to
that of the “White Pasha.”
The report that two German bankeis
are about to purchase the Island of Ilerra
is creating a sensation in Paris. The al
leged bankers are said to be German
naval officers in disguise, whose design
is to familiarize themselves, by the aid of
local pilots, with certain channels and
currents, a knowledge which would be
of immense value in the event of a war
between France and Germany. The
Island of Herm lies two and a half miles
from Germany in the English Channel.
Tlte Electrical Review quotes Professor
Asa Grey as saying that there is ground
for the belief prevalent in Europe that
lightning strikes the Lombardy poplar
in preference to other trees. He says an
old fashioned I.ombardy poplar, by jts
height, its complete covering of twigs
and small branches and by its sappy
wood, niakesa capital lightning rod and
a cheap one. To make it surer the tree
should stand in moist ground or near
water, for wet ground is a good con
du tor and dry a poor oue. It is recom
mended to plant a Lombard}' poplar near
the house and another near the barn.
A large part of ihe lira ilian empire is
ready for republicanism, declares the
American C dti ator. Dom Pedro, the
present Emperor, ha 3 been a father to
his people. lie has been largely in
fluential in abolishing slavery, and for
the good he has done the empire will
not be disturbed in his day. But he
will have no successor. After his death
republicanism will be the natural order
of things. Brazil has enormous re
sources and a territory that may possibly
be subdivided into a number of govern
ments. In time South America will be
gathered under a federative system, like
that of the. United Status.
Says the Detroit Free Press: ‘ ‘The
English consumption of wheat per year
is 200,000,000 bushels. The annual
production of wheat in England will
average from 75,000,000 to 80,000,000
bushels. This year it will not be more
than 50,000,000 bushels. It is an ill
wind that blows no one some good. The
American farmers in the Northwest have
long suffered the hardships that follow a
low price in wheat. Nearly all the mar
gin of profit has been consumed in ele
vator and transportation charges. If
the English wheat crop this year really
sustains the eatimates that have been
made it will be a season of re'oicing for
’the American wheat grower.”
THANKSGIVING.
When the trees are gray and bare,
And the snow is in the air,
And the frost is in the sod,
And the yellow golden-rod,
Like a fading sunset light,
Withers in a blackening blight;
And the dead leaves to and fro
Whirl about as the north winds blow—
Then comes the old Thanksgiving time,
When hearts in festal meetings chiraa.
When gay youth no longer sings
The clear carols of its springs,
And old age with stealthy tread
Up behind us steals, to shed
Winter snows upon the head;
Yet with age’s frost and snow
Brings a light whose steady glow
With an inner radiance scorns
Thoughtless youth’s best nights and morns,
Then comes the old Thanksgiving time,
And awakes a loftier rhyme.
Then, for aii that builds up life
With its changing calm and strife
What I was—the given base
Upon which I now can place
What poor figure I may have wrough
Out of all my life and thought—
For the priceless providence
That hath made each nerve and sense
Of my boyhood but the germ
Of a growth more full' and firm—
For the blest inheritance
Of my parents’ blood—for chance
Even, and fate and circumstance—
For the joy and sorrow turned
Into hope—for wisdom learned
From my folly—faith from doubt:-
All within me or without
That bath helped the spirit weak
Its best life and truth to seek:—
For all this, and more that, blind,
I cannot recall to mind—
Thanks on this Thanksgiving day
I would render as I may:—
On this dull gray day when earth
Hath no smile of spring or mirth,
And the dead leaves to and fro
Whirl about as the north winds blow.
Christopher P. Cranch.
THE UiNPRO BATED WILL
y
A THANKSGIVING STORY. _
OOR as John
Austin wakes >k e
:Jj *|was made more
| desperate by the
return of the fa
| ther of his wife
f*. N *j (-believed to be
r y dead) who came
£°“ e tc \ th ?“
r/Z/LrW-Jt l.\ iJS: 4r, broken in health
rnfflySSSw"*** ‘ :( i ueer ”
man, as the peo-
P le of Beachton
j jff %T-\ p called him.
ss? .2A By-’'* When Jane
K V. Austin was a lit
' tic girl the now
old man had left her mother and her
*elf to battle with the world. No one
knew why or whither he had gone.
For twenty-five years nothing had
been heard of or from him. In the mean
time the mother had died, the daughter
married, and several little olive branches
had come to twine around the hearts of
the father and mother and make the
struggle for bread still more imperative.
For half a dozen years the Aid man
lingered rather than lived, apparently
purposeless save to wander in the woods
iround the little inland village in sum
ner, shiver over the tire in winter and
:onstantly mutter to himself. Then he
juietly faded out from among living
md was laid to rest in the desolate
jraveyard.
Of where he had been during his long
ibsence he never talked; what he had
ione was never known. His reappear
mce was as sudden and unexplained as
lis departure. He came on foot and
done, and the only thing certain about
lim was his poverty.
The expense of" his “keeping” had
)een a serious drawback to the prosperity
>f the daughter and her husband; those
jonnected with his last sickness and
ieath heavy. A single dollar added to
;he outlay of any man whose only cap
tal is his hands and only income is from
laily toil is no light affair.
But a week previous to Thankgiving
the funeral had taken place—used up ;
the last dollar of ready money and left a
debt to be paid. In the flickering light
of the fire husband and wife sat sadly
discussing the outlook, and gloomy in
deed it was. The last of the little brood
had been tucked into bed, the fierce wind
of the Northern Winter was howling
without, the stars shone brightly but
coldly, and the low, heavy banks of
clouds gave notice of a fierce snowstorm,
ahd the poor know but too bitterly what
that means for them.
“John,” said his wife, after a long si
lence and with a heavy sigh, “to-mor
row will be Thanksgiving, and the chil
dren are reckoning upon a good dinner.”
“Yes,” he replied, with his head
bowed and tears in his eves, “but the
good Lord only knows where it is to
lome from. The care and death of your
father —1 don’t say it complaining, wife,
for you have repaid it a thousand times
—has not only taken the last cent, but
left us a debt it will take months to pay.
However, the darlings shan’t be disap
pointed if I can help it, and if you can
manage the pies and little things I'll see
what can be done about getting some
thing in the shape of meat. Heigh ho!
what a miserable thing it is to be poor
sud never have any money when you need
it inost.”
“Yes, dear, it is hard: but we have
health, strength, and the little ones, and
that is very much to be thankful lor.”
“And many a rich man would give
more than the sum necessary to make us
comfortable for our appetites and the
sound sleep we enjoy.”
Little knew they of the storm that
rocked their little cottage and drifted
the snow around it. But with the morn
ing light they saw it and with a sinking
of heart. It was as a death blow to the
plans John Austin had made for their
Thanksgiving dinner. He had indulged
in no fanciful dreams of turkey and a
liugo chicken pie, of salad and jelly.
They were Vs far beyond his means as
oyster pate, terrapin, canvas-back and
champagne. A practical man, he had
thought out uo sumptuous or elaborate
menu, but had resolved to be up early,
take his gun, go to the woods and see if
he could not “knock over” something
for a Thanksgiving feast.
Under ordinary circumstanceshunting
would have been recreation and one
seldom indulged in, for necessity com
pelled uninterrupted labor. “Whew!”
he whistled under his breath as he saw
how deep was the snow, strong the wind
End freezing the sir. But it wss Th&nks*
giving and the children must not be dis
appointed. So, after building a rousing
fire and bringing in plenty of wood, he
kissed his wife, promised to be back as
early as possible, took his gun and
started ur>on the uncertain quest, for
game, like money, has a perverse fashion
of being out of the way when most
wanted.
Tramping along over the unbroken
fields and in the full sweep of the icy
blasts, he was glad to reach a little
grove where he could find shelter and
regain his breath. 116 seated himself
upon a stump and to him came the
greatest temptation of his life. In a
tree, within easy shot, roosted numerous
turkeys. Hatch d from the eggs of
wild ones and with the distinctive
feather marks, it would be the easiest
thing to secure one and pass it off, if
seen, as legitimate game. Great fat,
luscious fowls they were, and the vision
of how happy his wife and children
would be in the eating arose before
him.
Almost before he was aw r are of the act
his gun was raised and aim taken. Then
conscience whispered: “They are not
yours, John Austin,” and turning his
steps away he answered mentally if not
vocally: “No, and I’m not going to be a
thief, even for a Thanksgiving dinner.”
Pushing on again over the broad
meadow he struck the road—an unbroken
one now—that led to the forest where
game was likely to be found, and was
passing the log cabin of a family even
poorer than his own, for the husband
was lying very ill. He glanced up at
the chimney—the most natural thing to
do upon such a day—aud saw no smoke.
Either the poor man must be dead or the
supply of wood had given out. In
stantly his own situation was forgotten
and he was not long in finding out that
his latter surmise was correct.
“Don’t worry,” he said to the anxious
wife, gathering and bringing in all the
wood he could find, “I’ll run over to
ne’ghbor Sampson’s and borrow his
team and get you a load. There's lots
of dead timber on this land, and he
isn’t the meanest man in the world by a
long shot.”
To accomplish his purpose he was
forced to retrace his steps and again look
at the temptation of the turkeys.
Certainly no birds ever looked so
and they stretched out their necks an
gobbled at him in the most
fashion and as if they knew what was
passing in lbs mind.
“Yes, John,” said the farmer in an
swer to his request, “take the oxen aDd
get as much wood as you cau haul. But
you will have to cut it. Everything
down must be snowed under except it
may be some xptten stuff that is of no
account.” *
“All right, but you will have to lend
me an axe. I started to find some game
fer dinner, but now the children will have
to get along with whatever their mother
can manage to fix up.”
“Well, here’s an axe, and you had
better leave your gun here till you come
back. I’d like to use it if you can tell
me where I will find my flock of turkeys
the tame-wild cues I mean. I believe
they know it’s Thanksgiving and have
run away.”
Austin told h’m where the birds were
to te found, thought of how little there
would be upon his owu table, and
hastened upon his errand of mercy
hastened as fast as an ox team, discon
tented with being out such a cold morn
ing and wading through such deep snow,
could be persuaded to go.
Tramping along after the sled Austin
at, last, reached the woods and looked
for a convenient tree to “fall.” An oak
stood near and a tap of his ax convinced
him it was hollow. That suited him
exactly. He could easily cut off a coup e
of logs, roll them upon the sled and re
duce them to burnable size afterward.
A strong armed and willing-hearted
man, he was not long in separating the
trunk, drawing and unloading in front
of the house of his sick friend. The
poor wile thanked him heartily and said
her brother had come and would do the
chopping.
“All right—no thanks,” he replied in
his hearty way. “Hope your Thanks
giving will be brigh.er than you antici
pated. “Now I’ll get my gun and see
what lean do for my own dinner.”
He had gotten some little distance
when the woman shouted:
“You have forgotten your satchel,
John Austin!”
“Mine:” he questioned, returning.
“Of course it is. You must have
placed it in the hollow trunk and for
gotten it. Anyhow it rolled out and
here is your wife's name on it. Gracious,
but it is marked plain enough.”
In mute astonishment John Austin
tootc up the satchel and brushed off the
snow. It was a small affair, battered,
worn, stained and (as he afterward said)
might have come out of the ark. A
piece of buckskin was looped through
the handles and rudely marked: Mrs.
Jane Austin, wife of Jofiu Austin and
daughter of James Selfridge, Beachton,
Pennsylvania, U. S.”
lie choked down a great lump that
had gathered in his throat, looked with
the most stupid surprise at the woman,
then at the satchel, and forgetting
team, gun and game started homewmrd
on a run. Bursting into the house he
dropped hrca'hlessly into a chair, flung
the satchel into the middle of the floor
aud gasped oue the single word:
“There!”
“John Austin,” exclaimed his wife in
the loudest key possible for her voice to
reach and with the muscles of her face
gathering for a storm, “aren t you
ashamed of yourself to come home
drunk, and on Thanksgiving? Take
that nasty old thing out of doors. It’s
a burning shame and a disgrace, and
you a husband and father of a family,”
and her apron was brought into requi
sition to wipe away her tears.
“It’s marked for you, Jane, and—
where in heaven did you get that great
turkey?”
“Farmer Sampson brought it, and
your gun, which you lost, and if the
neighbors didn’t lake pity on us we’d
starve,” was replied in very short sen
tences and broken by sobs.
“But Jane—"
“Don’t ‘ lane’me. Take that misera
ble, dirty thing out and crawl off some
where and go to sleep. To think I
should have lived to see the day—and—
and we become objects of charity—and
—and—having to be fed by the neigh
bors,” and up went the apron again.
“Mother,” broke in the eldest of tho
hopefuls, whose curiosity had caused an
investigation of the satchel, and who
had spelled out the add:ess, ‘‘it’s your
name, and such queer writing!”
Thus reinforced John Austin explained
that he had found it in a hollow log and
suggested that it le opened. The wife
looked dubiously at it for an instant
and then, forgetful of auger and tears,
•xclaimcd:
JkS,
*W\ ■ w'
*‘lt is father’s writing. Open it as
quick a 3 ever you cau.”
He complied. The first thing he saw
was a letter. It was written on coarse
paper, unsealed, directed to his wife, and
read: “All for my daughter Jane, wife
of John Austin, forever and ever. James
Selfridge.
“Sounds like a will,” said the hus
band, “and we’ll see what the old man
has left.”
Little packages tied up in buckskin
were taken out, and each, when opened,
disclosed gold, coined, du-t aud nug
get®, evidently the savings of a miser
miner, and explained why he had so
much haunted the woods
Overcome by their unexpected -fortune
husband, wife and children gathered
around the table upon which it had been
piled, and laughed and cried together.
The millions of merchant prince or rail
way king was nothing compared to the
few hundreds to them. Then came the
natural fear of being robbed, and the
wealth was hastily hidden away. They
were too much excited to eeen disouss
what they would do with it and were
frigthened nearly into convulsions when
a loud rap waS heard on the door and
with it a command to open.
It was only their neighbor Sampson
with more good things, and as he sat
warming his numbed hands and feet he
told how good John had been as to the
afflicted family.
“And, John,” he said, “I saw and
heard you when talking about my tur
keys, and a man who could be thus
Hionest under so great temptation will
lOyer find a friend in Job Sampson.”
iicfThen Austin and his wife unbosomed
themselves, showed the gold, the letter
and asked advice. It was judiciously
given and with congratulation the farmer
hurried away, happy at having done a
good action.
At a late hour for “country folks” theii
dinner was eaten with hearts overflowing
with thankfulness, and when the scuffed
chldren were dreaming the wife stole
behind her husband, put her arms around
his neck and kissed him more warmly
than since tho days of her courtship as
she whispered: .j
“To think I should accuse you of be
ing drunk! And you giving up all hope
of your own Thanksgiving dinner to
help others! You dear old John.”
N. B.—That will was never jirobated.
A Runaway Couple.
The night before Thanksgiving. 7
The Sorrow That Follows the .Toy.
“Yes,” she said at breakfast table this
morning, “I am glad Thanksgiving is
over.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because,” she replied, “because lean
now begin reminding you that Christmas
is coming, and that I need a new seal*
skin sacque.” —Philadelphia Herald.
A Song of Thanksgiving.
I never had a sweet gazelle
To glad me with its soft black eye—
But I would love it passing well
Baked in a rich and crusty pie,
If I could have a bird to love
And nestle sweetly in my breast,
All other nestling birds above.
The turkey—stuffed—would be that bird.
On the Way to Thanksgiri.ig Services,
A COLONY OF CONVICTS
CURIOUS DITTDE WORLD DISCOV
ERED INMID-OCEAN.
Exiles of Ecuador Livin'* on a
Walled Island A Ruler More
Autocratic Than the Czar.
On the largest of the Galapagos
islands exists a curious colony. “The
island is between six and seven hundred
miles from the mainland of Ecuador,”
said Prof. Lee, to a Lewiston <Me.) ~-onrn
ul reporter, “almost under the equator.
It is walled in with high volcanic rocks,
and very difficult of access. Years ago
the Ecuador Government planted a con
vict colony on one of the islands, but
the convicts revolted, killed ihe Gov
ernor, and made their escape on a
schooner. For a long time afterward
the islands were uninhabited, and all of
them are so today except Chatham,
where we landed. Behind the walls of
rock we found a fertile country, in a
high state of cultivation.
“About 150 persons make their home
there and are governed by a shrewd and
progressive man of the Spanish race
named Cobos. He makss no claim to
sovereignty, but his control seems ns ab
solute as that of the Czar. His subjects
are convicts from Ecuador. Years ago
it appears, he was engaged in gathering
orchilla, a kind of moss which is valua
ble for the manufacture of dyes. lie get
rich at this business, but 10-t his for
tune through some transaction with the
Government of Ecuador. Possibly using
that as an argument, he asked lor and
was granted this island of Chatham, the
condition being that he should receive
and care for the convicts sent thither
from the mainland. This was perhaps
ten or twelve years ago.
“The colony has now a little world of
its own, cut off from civilizatiou by
hundreds of miles of ocean. Only now
and then, at long intervals, has any
vessel landed there, except the schooners
owned by Governor Cobos, and the in
habitants have, therefore, no means of
escape. These people do not share their
ruler’s progressiveness. They are an
odd and rather unprepossessing lot.
Most of them are natives of Ecuador and
some probably half Indian. There was
an English woman, also, on the island.
She was only about twenty-live years
old, with blue eyes and light hair, but
as tough a specimen as i ever came
across. The inhabitants are about
equally divided between the sexes. They
have an abundance of food, and in that
climate the kind of dress to be worn and
the amount of it are not subjects that
trouble anybody a great deal. You can
judge what sort of creatures they a e
when you remember that they are the
criminal classes of a population which
at best i 3 backward in culture.
“The Governor is the only person on
the island who knows anything of the
world. He has traveled somewhat, can
speak English after a fashion and con
trives to keep up within about six
months of the times. In conversation
he showed a pretty clear knowledge of
affairs in Europe and America. Al
though a monarch, in all essential re
spects, this man acknowledges his de
pendence on the goverment of Ecuador;
but he rules his subjects as he pleases,
aud, perhaps, somewhat tyrannically,
for there are conspiacies constantly on
foot against his life, and he has to main
tain a miniature standing army. The
currency of the island is made of sheet
lead, with the value, the name of the
Governor and the name of the island
stamped upon each coin.
“Seven prisoners of State were in
durance while we were on the island,
under charge of having plotted to take
the Governor’s life during a recent fes
tival. and to set up a new government.
What punishment they were to receive
was not definitely decided, but Cobos
intimated that he should banish them to
one of the other and desert islands at a
distance, where they would be furnished
with a little food for temporary use
and a few tools, and left to shift for
themselves.
“The land in Chatham is under culti
vation. Sugar cane is raised and rum
made of it. Fruits, hides, mats, orchilla
and other products are shipped in con
siderable quantities to Guayaquil.”
Trials of Rapid Firing Guns.
A report has just been made to the
War Office upon the exper.ments re
cently carried out with the Maxim gun
of COO and 800 yards, in comparison
with fire from Martini-Henry rifles. At
000 fifteen men, all first or second
class shots,fired ten volleys and made 52
per cent, of hits in 3 minutes, 3t> seconds,
while the Maxim, firing the same num
ber of rounds at the same targets, made
81.50 per cent, of hits in 2 minutes, 30
seconds. At 800 yards the results were:
Martini-Henrys, 40.00 per cent, of hits
in 3 minutes, 40 seconds; Maxim, 80
per cent, iu 1 minute, 30 seconds. The
targets were arranged so that the volleys
fired by the men were directed alter
nately a quarter right and a quarter left,
the intervals between the targets being
12 yards; the Maxim fired 15 shots al
ternately on each target. Further ex
periments are to be made at unknown
distances, and as nearly as possible un
der service conditions, at ranges between
1000 and 1200 yards; and on this occa
sion the new service rifle, with dial sight,
is to be tested. —Scientific American.
Emin Pasha.
All who have been reading recently
about Stanley’s latest wanderings iu
Africa, where he has probably been
murdered by some of the wild tribes of
the equatoiial region, have heard of
Emin Pasha, who is a potentate of im
portance in Upper Egypt.
He is not an African of any race but
is a German, a physician by profession,
and by name Eduard Schnitzer. He
was born in the province of Silesia, in
1840, studying finally in the University
of Breslau, and graduating in the
faculty of medicine. His first foreign
service was iu Turkey, where he was a
surgeon in the army. In 1870 be took
service in the Egyptian army, where he
assumed the cognomen “Emin,” the
Faithful.” His career in Egypt has been
quite distinguished, and places him in
rank with such foreign adventurous
spirits as Stanley, Gordon aud a few
cithers. — Picayune.
The Archduke Joseph of Austria is
going to publish a dictionary of the
Gypsy language, on which he is a well
triinwn RillUuritv.
THE GRAY FATHER.
A tiny gir! want singing .
Among the meadow flowers;
Her father watched her bringing
Her happy thoughtless hours.
She never saw his features.
She never knew his face.
Of all unconscious creatures
She had the joy and grace.
Years passed!—her father brought her
A jewol for her brow;
She thought—and while she thought, her
Gray father she saw now.
But she was not so mirthful
That father now she knew;
Of grief she found old earth full,
And she was older too.
The father of that maiden,
He is old Father Time,
A parent heavy laden
With more of prose than rhyme.
No more you hear her laughter
The flowering fields among;
Her words forever after
Are rather said than sung.
—Keningale Cook, in Temple B
I
HUMOR OF THE DAY.
A stowaway—The glutton.
All for protection—Policemen.
Our horticultural fathers—Poppies.
A pointer ou pork — The pig's nose.
Oriental calendar gastronomy—Eating
dates.
A call deposit—Talking into a phono
graph.
Man has his ups and downs—Er, yes—
hic-ups!
A friendly meeting—Gathering of
Quakers.
The Lick Observatory—The postage
stamp window.
The best way to get at the tongue of a
bell is to peal it.
Baseball clubs that have a “Jonah’*
are easily whaled.
Right kind of a girl for a restaurant —
One that is “tasty.”
All good swimmers are not belligerent,
yet they strike out right and left.
A criminal may not believe in his own
guilt, but he is always open to convic
tion.
Make a man your traveling companion
and you must put up with him. — Pica
yune.
When an office goes out to seek a man,
it has to pick its way through crowds. —
— Epoch.
This Banana Trust will be nothing
more nor less than a skin game. —
Roche ter Post.
Bomc belles captivate with artless
heart; others with heartless art. — Mer
chant Tra eier.
The hen that hatched out a brood of
seven roosters was very proud of her
beautiful son-set.
Speaking of pins, the most costly
are the diamond pin aud the terrapin.—
Pittsburg Chronicle. r
People studying the language of Fin
land have quite au exciting time at the
Finnish. —Rochester Post.
In Denmark, girls are trained to agri
culture, but in this country ffiiey take
more kindly to husbandry.
A Philadelphia umbrella firm has sus
pended, with nothing laid by for the
rainy day.— Pitts-urg Chronicle.
A fisherman will always be found
reeling a great deal when the fishing is
Hood. Perhaps it is the bait.— Poston
Post.
When young men and maidens go out
canoeing together their thoughts are
sailing to the port of canoeuiai fe
licity.
Photographer—“ Everything is ready.
Please smile.” Kentuckian —“Thank
you. I don’t care if I do.” —Areola
Record.
It hurts a mau just about as much to
burn him in effigy as to have his shadow
ou a stone wall butted by a goat. —
Toledo Blade.
“Yes,” said Mr. Ivnowitall, “that is
Latin for ‘deep sea bass.’ Basso pro
f undo was Julius C.isar’s favorite fish. ”
Harper's Bazar.
The Bee Line Railroad has 117 crooks
in it. A bee which can’t fly straighter
than that had better invent a compass. —
Detroit Free Press.
‘Yes,” said Mr. Newpop, “I’m
head of the firm down town, but when
I’m at home nights I’m floor walker
most of the time.”
They tell us that “wah” is au Indian's
most common expression of pleasure.
And here we’ve been thinking that an
Indian’s wah-whoo > meant bloodshed.—
Binghampton Republican.
Y'oung Mother (displaying baby)—
“Isn't he a great noble leliow, Ma or V*
Ma jor (anxious to please) —“Yes indeed,
madam; why, he has got hands and feet
on him like a hired man’s.” —New York
Bun.
Tommy —“Y'ou ought to see how much
butter my step-mother puts on my
bread.” Johnny—“l guess it’s some of
this bogus butter, and she just trying it
on you before she eats any of it herself.”
—Fliegend Blaetter.
Willie took the shiny musket
By its muzzle, daintily;
Stuffed the cold -steel down his throatlet,
Toyed with trigger gracefully.
Down went hammer on the caplet,
“Up went Willie!” did you say*
Not a bit; for gun not loaded
Can not hurt a boy at play.
—Time.
Brown— “ Have you seen Robinson
recently, Dumley?” “I hear he has
been sick.” Dumley—“Yes; I saw him
this morning.” Brown —“How is be.'
Dummy—“By thunder, I forgot to ask
him. I just said How are you, old man*
and passed on.” — Time.
In the spring the young man’s fancy l*g llt! J
turns to thoughts of love: tha
Through the summer days he wooetli lme
lightsome turtle-dove; . ,
And when summer-tide is over, in the g e
glow of autumn, ,
Home the maiden writes to popper, Deaie
pa, at iast I’ve caught him.
r —Bazar.
The citizens of Lexington were much
surprised on Tuesday morning I®’® ®
find a placard on the public well "
read: “Drink no water froni this
it is full of frogs, by order of the WL • _
Mayor W. ». J.ester was sought Oj- »
reporter to ascertain why he haao
the well filled with frogs, but he Jecimeu
vo answer.— Lesington (Ca.) Echo.