Georgia Historic Newspapers

    Ms County Ties.
' THENTON, GEORGIA.
The English papers call attention to
the remarkable revival of trade shown
during the past year.
The millions of various and sundry
English syndicates are going rapidly into
the purchase of Southern laud.
Spain collects a fairly largo revenue,
but at a ruinous cost. It is doubtful
whether half reaches the Treasury.
Tho population of the United States
grows 100,000 each month from births,
and about 500,000 a year by immigrants.
Unless all signs fail, says the San Fran
cisco Chronicle , this is going to be a bo
nanza year for the California farmers and
fruit growers.
Minnesota has passed a law providing
for executions before sunrise, and allow
ing the condemned to invite three persons
to witness their execution.
English was the language used at the
Samoan conference, for the first time on
such diplomatic occasions, owing to
Americans coming into European politics.
Attempts at suicide, more or less suc
cessful, according to the nerve and skill
of the would-be self-murderer, arc getting
to be as common items of news, observes
the Chicago Herald, as small fires.
A new law in Madagascar gives a hus
band the power to chastise his wife wit!
a regulation whip only, and does awaj
with clubs and draystakes entirely. The
whole world is progressing, even if slow
ly. .
Ex-Mayor Abram Hewitt, of New York
city, startled the guests at a recent ban
quet in London by assuring them that the
Southern States would ultimately be the
centre of the hardware trade of the
world.
There are tweuty-tw T o missionary socie
ties in the United States managed by wo
men. These societies supported 751 mis
sionaries last year, and raised $1,038,233.
Since their organization they have con
tributed $10,335,124.
A land of milk and honey was the
HlvJCCavTr iTH 7Cn\si e, liuo. ai» nfew
exclaims the Detroit Free Press , only one
person in nine can eat honey without
having colic, and only one in ten can
drink milk without being made bilious.
Here is a prophecy by the Albany (N.
Y.) Times: It is probably not too ex
travagant to say that at the next centen
nial of Washington’s inaugural we shall
travel by air machines; that we shall run
over to London or Rome, as now we run
down to New York, in a few hours.
The Captain of the English bark Homo
ward, just returned to Liverpool from
Australia, says that lie was followed 1550
miles on the voyage by a shark thirty-five
feet long, which probably expected a
sailor to fall overboard. The creature
finally accepted a pair of old boots and
quit.
A memorial to Congress was introduced
in the Florida House of Representatives
asking that the United States propose to
Spain a guarantee of $100,000,000, to be
paid in twenty annual instalments of
$5,000,000 each, for the purchase of
Cuba, the United States to assume a pro
tectorate over the island until the entire
sum is paid.
New York city is growing so fast that
its school system cannot keep up. Hun
dreds of children are running wild in
every street in the vast district between
Eighty-seventh and One Hundred and
Sixth streets, because there are no school
houses. The Commissioners of Educa
tion are trying to provide temporary
school accommodation in manufactories
and private houses so as to comply with
the law.
The recent death of the young Emperor
of Annam, at Tonquin, is now looked
upon with suspicion. According to Dr.
Lagrange, of Bordeaux, who was former
ly employed in the Court of Hue, when
the Regency Council resolve to get rid of
an unsatisfactory Emperor they present
him with three dishes, on one of which
there is a dagger, on the other a silken
cord, and on the third poison. His Im
perial Majesty has only to take his choice.
A newspaper syndicate recently offered
William E. Gladstone the sum of $25,-
000 for a series of twenty-five articles on
subjects of current interest. The follow
ing reply to this proposition has just been
received: “At my age the stock of brain
power does not wax, but wanes. And
the public calls upon my time leave me
only a fluctuating residue to dispose of.
All idea of a series of efforts is, there
fore, I have finally decided, wholly be
yond my power to embrace.’'
AS WE VIEW IT.
Yonder landscape, regal in its splendor,
Smiling with a look half proud, half tender,
Seems a shrouded corpse when dense fogs
roll.
Life is glorious when the rays of duty
Shine upon it from a loving soul;
But its hills and glades are robbed of beauty
If a selfish mist hangs o’er tho whole.
Scorning this great fact, the base man loses
Truth’s best diamond, priceless if he knew
it;
Life is good or bad, as each one chooses,
Life is as we view it.
Wanting wealth of heart, the miser’s treasure,
Now too small to purchase lofty pleasure,
Soon will be a deathbed pang' or worse.
Love, contentment, goodness, hopes ethereal,
Make the peasant, slender though his purse,
Vastly richer than the whole material,
Starr-illumed, unconscious universe.
Mental wealth, whoso very touch entrances,
Boundles lies for all whose minds pursue it;
Mau is rich or poor, just as he fancies:
Wealth is as we view it
Life’s flame, flickering feebly in tho strong
est,
Oft blown out, is soon burnt at the longest;
Frail we live; we’re nothing in our graves.
Almost awful now, yet daily heightening,
Is our power, that rides the foaming waves,
Weighs tho planets, grasps the leaping light
ning,
Changes fire and air to docile slaves.
Man can huinblo Nature if she dares him,
Set her some hard task and make her do it;
Man is weaker than the steed that bears him:
Power is as we view it.
Knowing not where Truth’s first step com
mences,
Since the sages say our very senses
Teach but fictions, dark we live and die.
Priceless thoughts that time in its long trav
els
Through past ages gathered, open lie;
Science shows the cipher that unravels
Nature’s secrets, wnt on earth and sky,
But tho wondrous volume spread before us
Needs eternity to read right through it.
Allis Floods of light float o’er us!
Truth is as we view it.
One faint gasp, and then tho low death rat
tle!
Thus we end it, beaten in tho battle,
Losing all things with our parting breath.
Life has glories but intensely brighter
Is the glory of a noble death,
When the soul, its load each moment lighter,
Heedless now of what the vain world saith,
Seeing visions, pain sublimely scorning,
Feels the icy hand, yet dares to woo it:
Death is starless night, or radiant morning,
Death is as we view it.
— J. U. Chapman, in the Academy.
A NOBLE REVENGE.
During the siege of Sebastopol almost
every step of earth round this mighty
fortress in the Crimea was steeped with
human blood. Thousands of Frenchmen,
Englishmen, Italians and Turks had
fallen by Russian bullets or. been carried
exer&ons
of the allied armies. On June 18, 1855,
the French had, indeed, with wonderful
bravery, attempted to storm the Malakoif
Tower, considered to be the key of
Sebastopol; but they were repulsed,with
immense losses, by the Russians. On
September 8 a second attack was to be
made on the Malakoif, and on the pre
ceding day the zouaves gave themselves
up to the few amusements which the camp
afforded them.
The zouave is always a merry soldier;
he laughs at everything—at many things
at which he ought not laugh—at life, at
death, of the cholera, at poverty, at guns
and cannon. On that evening the mer
riest among the zouaves -were the two
brothers, Charles and Victor Carabine,so
called because they knew no other father
than their musket. They were not even
certain they were brothers; the chief
proof of their relationship was their
mutual affection. They were as like,too,
in face, as they were in heart. Victor
was to-day telling all sorts of funny
stories; they seemed to think little about
the terrible day which was to dawn on
the morrow.
All the bells of Sebastopol and all the
trumpets and drums of the French camp,
too, announced noon on September 8,
1855. A signal sounded from the hill
where General Pelissier had posted him
self with his staff, and with sharp eye he
was following all the movements of the
army. Before this signal Genera! Mac-
Mahon, who commanded the First Di
vision, threw thrft; battalions of zouaves
against the left side of the Malakoif.
Charles and Victor Carabine had the
honor to stand ip the vanguard. With
their comrades they crossed the enemy’s
trench, climbed up the breastwork, and
were soon inside. Colonel Collineipu led
them. He received a shot in the head as
he fell upon the Russians, but he quickly
bound up his wound with his handker
chief, waved his sword aud rushed into
the fray.
Charles Carabine had a young Russian
officer opposed to him, who had already
cut down five or six zouaves with his
sword, Charles rushed upon him,in order
to avenge his comrades, and disarmed the
officer with the first blow of his sword.
But the Russian had already seized a
heavy fragment of a shell, which ho was
in the act of hurling at his foe. Victor,
who was fighting about fifteen paces off
from his brother, saw the danger in which
he w;is, and fired at the Russian. The
ball struck upon the eagle of his helmet,
without even causing the officer who wore
it to wince. Meanwhile the great piece
of iron had smitten Charles to the ground.
In a moment Victor is at his side; but he
comes too late—the huge piece of iron
had crushed Charles's head.
It is a terrible sight that meets his eyes;
to the right, Charles dead at his feet, and
his foe, fighting fiercely as ever; to the
reft, on the top of the parapet, he sees
Corporal Lihaut, the brave boy of Paris,
unfurling the standard of the zouaves,
and close to him MacMahon planting his
sword on the ground they had taken.
Urged on by the madness of victory
and thirst for revenge, Victor cries:
“This way, comrades,” and like a torrent
his companions rush down upon the
Russians. The Cantaiy who had slain
Charles is cut down, together with his
soldiers, and hurled into the trench. Is
he dead or alive? The zouaves don’t
know, but at 5 o’clock they are masters
of Sebastopol.
Victor was made Sergeant for his
bravery during the attack. He marched
with his comrades through the suburb of
Karabelnaia as sword in hand they drove
the Russians to the bridge, which was
their last refuge. The city was on fire
in several places. Victor came at last
before a house whose appearance showed
that it belonged to people of high rank.
It was the dwelling of a rich inhabitant
of Sebastopol; perhaps one of the leaders
of the defense, whose military skill had
cost the French so much blood. Venge
ance again awoke in Victor’s breast.
The house did not seem to be altogether
deserted. If he could only find a brother
here to butcher as they had butchered his
brother—hearts that he could rend as his
had been rent. Such was the revengeful
feelings of his heart.
lie will avenge himself by plunder, if
he cannot by murder. He will take gold,
if there is no blood to shed. He now
stands on the threshold of the rich house.
He now strides through a porch filled
with flowers. Fiowers in the midst of
this bloody massacre! But whence comes
it that the zouave hesitates? Close to the
flowers some children’s playthings are
lying—tin soldiers, a sword and a copper
cannon, the uniform of a little four-year
old artilleryman. Little children have
here been rehearsing the. tragedy which
their father has been playing! Victor
goes on; he penetrates into the drawing
room, which had been abandoned in
terror and dismay. The zouave casts a
triumphant glance on the treasures which
the owners could not take with them—a
rich booty for the soldier, if they had not
murdered his brother!
He was on the point of calling in his
comrades to plunder, when he heard a
heartrending cry above him. A shell
had fallen into the upper story of the
house. The zouave hastened up and
saw in a room, in the midst of the ruins
caused by the explosion, a young mother,
apparently dead, and a child in her arms.
“The poor boy!” cried Victor, horrified
at the sight, and he forgot everything—
his dead brother, his revenge, the victory,
Sebastopol and the rich booty. He
hastens to the help of the mother—he,
who never remembers to have had a
mother himself—he seeks to restore her
to life. But all his efforts to restore her
to life are vaiu.
“Come,” he says to himself, “it is no
good; nothing will help her. Now, let
me see to saving the child,” and he looks
at the little boy, who has fallen to the
ground and stares with terror at his dead
mother and his unknown enemy.
The zouave sought for the victor’s re
ward. There it is before him! To pro
tect an innocent life! to give a father to
an orphan. He who had himself been an
orphan from his birth. But what does
he discover as he takes up the child, and
whence comes his confusion? He had
gS^g&^^^apl^^met^andon
which he on the officer who
slew his brother.
This, then, is his wife whom he has be
fore his eyes—this is his son whom he is
about to save! Victor, who has over
come the choleufeand faced death in a
thousand forms, whks down upon a chair.
He Mfuggles in a terrible conflict with
hi;n*f, his sword seems to move at his
side and his musket seems to cry “Fire!”
But another figure stood between him and
his slain brother—that of the dead mother
of the child, who seemed to be kneeling
before him with clasped hands.-
>‘Oh! I am sufficiently avenged! No
cruelty!” the zouave exclaims, springing
up, and then these tvords come into his
mind; “Whatsoever ye do unto one of
these little ones ye do it unto me.”
And with gentle hands he took up the
little child, whose father had killed
Charles Carabine, and bearing him close
to his heart he passed with indifference
by the silver plate without heeding the
jewels and rich dresses.
On the evening of that day the zouave
returned with the little Russian in his
arms to his tent, and prepared for him as
good a supper as he could, and his rough
comrades vied with each other in provid
ing fpr “the little eagle,” and preparing
him a nest as soft as that of his mother.
Several months had passed since these
events. Peace was signed at Paris, and
Victor Carabine, with his comrades, had
returned to the capital, taking the
“young black eagle” with them.
About the middle of January, 1856, an
old man and a young lady in deep mourn
ing—still very pale from the effects of ill
ness from which she had scarcely recov
ered—arrived at a hotel in Paris from St.
Petersburg. The first thing they did was
to drive to the barracks in the rue de la
Pepiniere and inquire fqr Sergeant Victor
Carabine, “You mean the Lieutenant,”
answered a groom; ‘ ‘lie lives a few steps
from here,” and he told them tho street
and number. The young lady did not
even get into the carriage again, but led
the old man to the house which had been
pointed out to them.
Lieutenant Victor was at home. The
two strangers went up one story, rang at
the bell of a small door, and stood before
the Lieutenant. He started when he saw
them, and led them to his modest room.
A writing table, four chairs, a camp bed,
a stand of arms, formed the whole of his
furniture. No—we have forgotten some
thing—a cradle stood in the room, which,
by its comfort and elegance, contrasted
very much with the rest of the furniture.
On the officer’s table, among his books,
papers and segars, stood tin solders, ar
ranged in order of battle, which were
commanded by a child with fair hair,
whose clothes were worth six monies of
a zouave’s pay. The young lady had
scarcely glanced at the child before she
uttered a loud cry, rushed up him to em
brace him and then fell fainting into the
old gentleman’s arms. Victor at once
recognized the mother of the “little
black eagel,” the wife of his brother’s
murderer, whom he had left for dead in
her room at Sebastopol. She it was, in
deed, accompanied by her father. After
her recovery she had passed three months
in searching for the Sercecnt. and laid
been led to him at last, as we have just
seen.
“I understand it all,” said Victor, ai
he wiped a tear from his eye, as he be
held the mother embracing her child;
“but if I know your story, madam, you
do not yet know mine.” And he told
her in a whisper, so that the child should
not hear it, about the attack on the Mala
koff and the death of Charles. The
young lady turned away her eyes and the
old man was silent. “You see how I
have avenged myself,” concluded the
zouave.
“I shall never forget it!” exclaimed
the mother, as with eyes full of tears she
looked now at the rosy cheeks, now at
the silken cradle. Ask of me all my
fortune and I will give it to you for my
son.”
“One moment,” said Victor, placing
his hand on the fair head; “the child is
mine and I can only give him up to his
father, while I leave to him the ehoice of
the weapons,” he added gloomily, with a
fierce look.
“Be silent, unhappy man!” groaned
the old gentleman; “his father is no
longer living. Do you not see the mourn
ing dress of the widow? His body was
found on September 9 at the Malakoff.”
“Good!” said Charles’s brother in a low
voice, so that the young lady should not
hear. “May God forgive him, as my
brother doubtless has forgiven him!
Madam,” he continued, as he turned away
his head in order to conceal his emotion,
“let there be peace between us, as there
is between France and Russia. Take
your child back, and never tell him the
story of his father 1”
“I promise it, sir; but I shall tell him
yours,”' replied the mother, as she gave
the Lieutenant her hand. Victor pressed
it, and then gazed for a long time into
the eyes of the “little eagle.”
“Youmust leave me, n.y child,” he
said in a choked voice; “you won’t see
Papa Carabine again.” The child sprang
up on the zouave’s knees.
“He shall come and see you everyday,
if you will allow it,” exclaimed the
mother. “I have settled with my father
iu Paris.”
Victor passed his hand over his eyes,
drew a deep sigh, took the child once
more in his arms, filled his arms with
playthings, and carried him down to the
carriage.
“Get in, Lieutenant,” said the lady, as
she made room for him. “We must ac
custom Alexander to the separation, and
I want to show you the way to my hotel.”
Victor hesitated, but the child’s tears
decided him.
‘ ‘Ah! your name is Alexander, like your
Emperor,” he said, smiling. “Well he
has made peace, and peace is a beautiful
thing—after war!”
He got into the carriage and led his
adopted son into the hotel, where he
found the same treasures that he had trod
den under foot at Sebastopol.
And afterward there was often to be
seen in the.drives of Paris a Russian car
riage, in which sat an old gentleman
, *■>■>- l™nWl alr J r ’ —l,
a child of six or seven years old, and a
Captain of zouaves, decorated with the
cross of the Legion of Honor. It is the
Countess C , who vowed to wear
mourning all her life for her husband,
and for Charles Carabine, her father
Prinee Alexis K , her son Alexander,
and Captain Victor Carabine, who won
his promotion to the cross during the
war against the Kabyles.— Chicagi
Herald.
Uncanny Plants.
What, forsooth, is a fungus? A wilj
invader which, having by some ungarded
entrance gained access, may do all sorts
of mischief; may fill our cellar, for in
stance, and turn us out of house and
home, as one is reputed to have filled the
cellar of the wine merchant, barring the
door from within and threatening sum
mary eviction and what not? Is it not s
fearful parasite which, having found
lodging in the tissues of its unwilling
host, swells to proportions vast, a hidder
tumor, sending its human victim all toe
soon forth from his tenement of clay?
Even when not thus associated with
the destruction of nobler forms, fungi are
nevertheless held suspect. At best and
largest they are odd, peculiar, hiding ir
out-of-the way places, far from
warm precincts of the cheerful day;” “ofl
color, ” as men say, and owing little or nc
allegience to our sovereign sun; pale,
ghastly things whose homes are with the
dead.
It remained for modern science to dig
nify the world; nothing shall be stranger
to her touch benign. Even the fungi
come into prominence as they come into
light. Odd as they may appear and mys
terious too, they, like some odd and pecu
liar people, do greatly improve upon ac
quaintance. Certainly no one can look in
upon a basket of Boleti fresh from August
woods and not greatly admire their deli
cate tints, their yellows, purples, browns
and grays, Fungi, once for all, are plants,
for the most part very simple ones too;
in their larger forms more commonly use
ful than noxious, and positively sources
of serious injury and detriment in those
species only which to mankind at large
are unseen, unknown and unsuspected.—
Popular (Science Monthly.
Hedgehogs as Fruit Gatherers.
Gathering fruit can scarcely be called
trapping, and yet there is a stratagem
attributed to that “walking bunch of
toothpicks” called the hedgehog which
may properly have a place in that cate
gory. It seems that fruit is frequently
found in the hedgehog’s sleeping apart
ment, and its presence there is explained
in this remarkable way. It is known that
hedgehogs often climb walls and run of!
upon low boughs, and, instead of scramb
ling down in the same manner, they
boldly make the lea]) from tho top to tho
ground, sometimes ton or twelve feet.
They coil into a ball in the air,strike upon
their armor of spines, and bound away
unharmed. In taking this jump they
have been seen to strike upon fallen fruit,
which, thus impaled upon their spines,
was carried away by them, and this has
given rise to the opinion that in some
such way they may have stored then
winter homes. —St. Lou is Globe-Democrat.
HOUSEHOLD AFFAIRS.
BREAD FRITTERS.
Soak two cupfuls of stale bread
crumbled into bits over night in a pint
of milk. In the morning add two beaten
eggs, and as much flour as will make the
batter drop from a spoon. Sift a little
baking powder through the flour. These
may be made thin like pancakes if you
prefer, in which case add a handful of
cerealine or Indian meal. Serve these
with link sausages that have been split
and broiled. This is an unusual way of
cooking sausages, but it deserves to be
better known. They are more digestible,
and quite free from fat. A few drops of
orange juice sprinkled over them is a de
licious addition. —American Agriculturist.
BANANA PUDDING
This is my recipe for banana pudding.
Three bananas, if large; four, if small;
four tablespoonsfuls of granulated tapi
oca; three of sugar; a pinch of salt; a
pint and a half of water. Let it cook un
til it looks clear (like boiled starch).
Have ready your pudding dish. I use a
crystal sauce dish, as the pudding looks
so pretty in it. Wet it in cold water, so
as not to break the dish with the hot tapi
oca. Put a layer of the tapioca an inch
thick over the bottom of the pudding
dish; then slice thiu a layer of the ba
nanas, then another of tapioca and so on;
have the tapioca for the top of the dish, or
last layer; serve with cream, or if one
likes to be at the trouble and time, whip
some of the cream and put on the top of
tho pudding. I think any one will say it
is a delicious pudding. I have friends
who never eat bananas that are fond of
them in this form.—iVcw York Observer.
OMELETS.
Among the many omelets made with
eggs, the most economical are those which
gain in bulk from the addition of some
ingredient cheaper than eggs; for in
stance, if a cupful of cold salt fish is on
hand, melt together a tablespoonful each
of butter and Hour, gradually stir in a
cupful each of milk and water, or use a
pint of water; add the cold fish free from
bones, three eggs beaten for a’minute,
and a high seasoning of salt and pepper;
stir the mixture over the fire uutil the
eggs are cooked to the desired degree,
and serve on toast. Tho delicacy of this
dish may be increased by separating the
yolks and whites and beating the latter
to a stiff froth, stirring them in lastly.
With cold boiled rice a favorite Southern
omelet can be made: Mix a cup of cold
boiled vice with three eggs, salt and
pepper, the yolks mixed with the rice
and the whites beaten to a stiff froth,
mixed lightly in; just as it is finished,
pour the omelet in a hot pan with table
spoonful of butter, and bake in a hot oveu.
—Philadelphia Press.
HOW TO KEEP THINGS CLEAN.
A good way to clean an iron sink is tc
rub well with a wet cloth in kerosene
oil.
To keep tinware nice and bright, scour
it every two or mree weens with finely
sifted coal ashes.
Strong brine may be used to advantage
in washing bedsteads. Hot alum w r ater
is also recommended for this purpose.
If your dishes must be washed in hard
water, add a little milk to tho water and
do without soap. Try this and see if you
don’t like it.
Soiled coat collars Can be rubbed with
ammonia, and then a woolen cloth laid
over and a hot flat iron held just over the
cloth to steam it without pressing.
Carpets should be thoroughly beaten
On the wrong side first, and then on the
right side, so as to leave it fresh. Spots
may be removed by the use of ox gall or
ammonia and water.
If your flat irons trouble you, by drop
ping black specks from the top or sides
when ironing, take them in a pan of
soapsuds and give them a thorough wash
ing and dry quickly to prevent rusting.
In cleaning oil cloths use no soap, or
scrubbing brush; but wash off the dirt
with water and flannel. Then go over
with milk, and rub with a soft brush till
dry and shining.— Housewife.
apt op cooking fish.
Fish must be fresh and thoroughly
cooked. It must he washed, wrapped iu
a salted cloth and put in a cool place un
til wanted. Never put it in the ice chest
to impair the milk and butter. It should
be baked or boiled. Salmon is the only
ssh that is not rendered tasteless by boil
ing, for the reason that it is richer than
all others in oils and juices. All kinds
of fish are improved by the addition of
vinegar or lemon juice to the stuffing, or
to the water in which they are boiled, or
they may be simply rubbed over with the
acid before boiling or baking. The acid
counteracts the excess of alkali always
found in fish. If they are to be broiled
tho broiler must be rubbed with fat, to
provent sticking, and the fish turned of
ten to prevent burning. If they are to
be baked they can be lifted from the pan
without breaking, if, a strip of cloth is
put under them, across the pan. The
cloth to be of cotton aud to bo rubbed
with fat to prevent sticking.
Salted fish, like salted meat, has lost
its nourishment, and Is only serviceable
as a relish. Tho varieties of fish balls,
croquettes, and other similiar prepara
tions, are of value only on account of the
vegetables, eggs, milk and butter which
they contain.
Shell fish, namely oysters and clams,
are most easily procured, and tho most
healthful of this variety erf food. If
oysters arc to be cooked, they must first
be washed and drained. If the liquor,
that ulwajs accompanies oysters, is to be
used, it must bo strained and cooked first,
and carefully skimmed before the oysters
are nddod. When the edges of the oysters
begin to curl they arc done. Both oysters
and clams are most nutritious when
slightly cooked.— Detroit Free Press.
In New York city last year the firemen
were called upon to battle with 3202 fires,
which did damage aggregating $1,566,-
401.
The largest traffic in eggs in the world
is said to take place at Rudolfalieim, a
suburb of Vienna. A largo public egg
market established. there.
A LESSON FOR LAGGARDS.
You think of taking a journey some day;
You have talked it over for years And
years;
Yet somehow or other you make delay,
Until further and further away appears .'
The beautiful goal; and I tell you now
To bind yourself by a solemn vow ‘
To cross the Rubicon. Pluck up heart!
For you’ll never get there unless you start!
There looms before you from day to day
A task that you dread to undertake;
So it hangs like a cloud upon your way
Through which the sunshine can never
break.
And I tell you now that the better plan
Is to do the work as quick as you can;
Over your fears a victory win.
For you’ll never get through if you don’t;
begin!
With the bravest and busiest keep abreast,
Nor through love of indolence lose your,
place,
For in each endeavor to do your best
You raise the hopes of the human race. -
Be not content to grovel below,
But rise to your duties with faith aglow 1i
Let your aims be high, and strive to excel;
For ho who does better must first do well!
The heart that gives way to its doubts and;
fears,
That idly dreams when there’s work to do.
Will find itself, before many years,
Beggared and bankrupt through and
through.
There are journeys to take and tasks to bo,
done,
From early morning till set of sun,
And triumphs to win, as none can deny,
And you’ll never succeed unless you cry!
—Josephine Pollard, in New York Ledger,
IIUMOR OF THE DAY.
Woodlark—A picnic in a grove.
A cool proceeding—An icc trust.
In the soup—Well, that’s the .'cook’s
secret.
It must be very exciting for the insect
world to see an antelope.
The motto of the Socialist—One coun
try, one flag, one pockctbook.
Ships are very polite. They always
meet the ocean’s wave with a bow.
Of all sad words by writer penned,
The saddest are these: “No dividend.” V
—New York Mercury.
If there is one thing more than,another
that “goes against the grain,’ v it is a
reaper.
With the camel, as with the diner, the
desert is frequently the last course.—■
Harper's Bazar.
We believe that an, Italian; who should
start out with a noiseless hand organ
would make money.
A lisping young., miss said she hoped
to be married before she w;ts as “old atli
Mith Thuthclah. ” — Siftings.
The woodman’s axe is an inconsistent
weapon. First it cuts a tree dowu and
then cuts it up. —Lowell Courier.
T,ittlpnnG— 'Mj "Wg never gives mo
any rest so long as she is.awake.” Henpcct
—“Pshaw! my wife even talks in her
sleep.”
Did you ever observe that while you
can see through a glass window, you
can’t see through a glass ey el—Harper’*
Baza/)'.
Never give to a young man on a small;
salary a present of a high silk hat. Ha
cannot afford to dress up to it.— Chicago
Tribune.
Mrs. Siimdiet (boarding-house keeper)
—“lsn’t this coffee just a leetle thin?”!
Cook—“I ain't made the coffee yet,mum j,
that’s water.”— Time.
A man last week came very near get-i
ting his wife arrested by leaving $5 in
counterfeit change in his vest pocket over,
night.— Washington Critic.
Cadillac—“ Don’t you think, a full'
beard would become me, Miss, Bessie?’*
Miss Bessie—“lndeed I do, Met Cadillac;;
it would hide your face.”— Benton Beacon j
The poet inscribed a daintrv rhyme
His love’s charms to rehearse; ’
But no one saw that rhyme sublime '
For the editor was a-verse. 14
—Somerville Journal.
“Ah, Malinda, you are indeed one of a'
hundred, and—” “Thank you, Mr*
Montague, I prefer to be considered aa
one of eighteen, as I am. One of a hun
dred!”
He who is bashful always tries *
To woe with the language of his eyes;
Lut my ill-luck ail else surpasses—
I am bashful and I wear blue glasses.
— Harper's Bazar.
Jinks—.“Do you suppose a man. with a
family can live on a dollar a day-and be a
Christian?” Binks—“Of course. He
can’t afford to be anything else.' 4 Boston
Beacon.
Guide (to American, tourist in Venice)
—“You will want to see the Lion of StJ
Mark, of course, sir?” Tourist—“Yes,,T
s’pose so. About what time do they
feed him?”— Life.
“If a naughty girl would hurt, you,;
you would forgive her, like a good girl,;
wouldn’t you?” asked a teacher of a,
little girl. Yfes, ma’am,” replied tho.
child, “if I couldn’t catch her.”
Old Cashbox (to applicant for clerk-,
ship) “Have you any bad habits, young;
man?” Applicant (with humility)—“T
sometimes think I drink too much cold
water with my meals. Herald
“Hast thou ever yet Loved, Henrietta?”''
I sighed. “I should rather imagine.jC
had, she replied. “Oh, did not mys
glances my betray when you ;
helped me the third time to pudding to-'
day?” 1 °
-■>* The Court of the Pope.
The Court of Pope Leo XIII. is said to,
comprise 1160 persons. There are 20
valets, 120 house prelates, 170 privy
chamberlains, 6 chamberlains, 200 extra-'
honorary chamberlains, 130 supernumery,
chamberlains, 30 officers of the noble!
guard, and 60 guardsmen, 14 officers of:
the Swiss guard and palace guard, 7 liono-j
rary chaplains, 20 private secretaries, 10«
stewards and masters of the horse, 60«
doorkeepers.
The weight of fish landed in Greats
Britain and Ireland last year was 575,000/
tons, of which somewhat less than half]
■was carried iuto the interior by railway, i