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THI LINCOLNTON NEWS.
J. D. COLLEY & CO.,
YOL. I.
By-and-Bv.
What will it matter by-and'-by,
Whether my path below was bright—
Whether it wound through dark or light—
Under a grey or a golden sky,
W hen I look back on it by-and-by?
What will it matter by-and-by,
Whether, unhelped, I toiled alone,
Dashing my foot against a stone,
Missing the charge of the angel night—
Bidding me think of the by-and-by?
What will it matter by-and-by,
Whether with laughing joy I went,—
Down through the years with a glad content,
Never believing, nay, not I—
Tears would be sweeter by-and-by?
What will it matter by-and-by,
Whether with cheek to cheek I’ve lain,
Close by the pallid angel, Pain,
Soothing myself through sob and sigh;
‘‘All will be elsewise by-and-by!”
What will it matter?—if bright—if I
Only am 6ure the way I’ve trod, »
Gloomy or gladdened, leads to God
Questioning not the how, the why,
If I but reach Aim, by-and-by!
What will I care for the unshased sigh,
If, in my fear of bliss or fall,
Closely IVe clung to Christ through all,
Mindless how rough the road might lie,
Surely He wiii smooth it by-and-by.
Ah, it will matter by-and-by,
Nothing but this—That Joy or Pair.
Lifted me Bkyward—helped to gain;
Whether through reck, or smile, or sigh,
Heaven—home—all in all—by-and-by.
LOVE AND A DUCKING.
“This is my daughter, Caroline.
Carrie, Mr. Sloane.”
Harry Sloane bowed, and pretty,
winsome Carrie Hervey bowed in re¬
turn.
Harry had picked out the farm as
a residing place during a business
trip.
After Carrie’s father had intro¬
duced the young people he went to
the barn, leaving the pair seated upon
tho porch.
“A pleasant spot this,” said Harry,
after he had finished admiring the
pretty, dimpled hands which the girl
had carelessly laid upon the light blue
serge dress.
“You like it?” she asked.
“Like does but half express my ad¬
miration. It seems as though I should
be perfectly satisfied to linger here
forever,” responded Harry.
“But surely, Mr. Sloane, the attrac¬
tions of city life must surpass those
of sueh a humdrum locality as this.”
“On the contrary, I prefer what you
call the humdrum locality.”
“And why, may I ask?”
“Because, because—well, I cannot
fully explain my reason. I suppose it
is because I am heartily sick of city
ways.”
“And so you como here for a
change?”
“Yes, I believe that is the reason.”
The pair sat there upon the porch,
talking upon one subject and the
other, until the evening shadow's fast
deepened into darkness.
Finally Harry arose, and said,—
“As I am somewhat tired with my
journey I will retire.”
The girl called her father, and the
latter taking a lamp led the way to the
front chamber on the’ upper floor.
Harry took up his travelling-bag, and
after a “good-night” to Carrie, he fol¬
lowed the old gentleman up the stairs,
and shortly afterw'ards was soundly
Bleeping.
“He is handsome, and so is Jack. He
is gentlemanly, and Jack is not quite
so easy. He talks and acts like a real
gentleman, aud Jack can hardly ever
find the right word to say when it is
needed. Jack loves me, and I—Iwon
der do I really and truly love Jack ?”
Thus Carrie mused after stje had dis¬
robed herself for the night, and sat by
the window.
Strange, she had never questioned
the fact as to w’hether or not she loved
Jack. She had always taken it for
granted that she did love the handsome,
brown-faced farmer-hoy, w r ho had ac¬
companied her home from singing in
the parish room on practising nights in
the winter, and taken her to picnics
and on excursions in summer.
Theirs had been on affection without
any question, any doubt or mistrust to
mar the serenity of its flow-.
Two, three w'eeks pass rapidly, and
Harry Sloane finds himself musing
over the possibility of his being able to
provide for a wife. Carrie’s lovely
face, her pretty figure and her grace
have been the w'hole cause of his per¬
plexity. Before he met her he never
had a thought of ever marrying.
He had espied a fine' young farmer
on several occasions talking with Car¬
rie at the gate, but she had t*Id him
that it w r as Jack, a schoolmate, and a
lifelong friend.
One evening Harry was seated in
the parlor talking with Carrie, when a
trap halted at the door, and Jack asked
her to take a ride. Again, when Harry
requested her to take a row on the
. lake, she said she was very sorry, hut
she had an engagement with—Jack.
<‘#iss Hervey, that Jack seems to
THE AUGUSTA , ELBERTON AND CHICAGO R AILROAD.
take up all of your spare time,” ex¬
claimed Harry.
“Exeuse me, Mr. Sloane, not quite
all. I believe I am at your service
when not otherwise engaged most of
the time.”
And turning on his heel Harry would
leave Carrie. This soon became com¬
mon, and finally Harry was determined
to end all by asking Carrie for her
hand.
“Miss Hervey, will you walk with
me along the riverside this evening?”
asked Harry one evening after tea.
“I—I don’t know.”
“Of course; it’s another engagement.
No matter, I return to the city in the
morning,” interrupted Harry.
“You are wrong, Mr. Sloane; I have
no other engagement. To prove it, I
will go to the river with you.”
She put on her pretty,wide-brimmed
Gainsborough and walked by his side
to the river.
“It is pretty,” she said, gazing out
upon the lake which reflected each
shining star and fleecy, floating cloud
upon its mirror-like surface.
“Pretty! yes, beyond all others I have
ever looked upon.” Something in his
tones caused Carrie to look up quickly,
and she blushed as she found his eyes
gazing straight into hers. “Carrie—I
I love you.”
There, it was said. The die was
cast, and Harry’s heart jumped up into
his throat.
“Mr. Sloane -”
“There now, Carrie, don’t Mr. Sloane
me. Can you not call me Harry?”
“I might—that is, if I had known
you longer.”
“You call that farmer—Jack.”
“Oh, Jack and I were children to¬
gether. That makes a difference, you
see.”
“I suppose so. But, Carrie, tell me,
do you love me?” asked Harry, trying
to take her hand in his, a liberty which
she did not seem disposed to permit.
“I—I—let us go hack now, Mr.—
Harry,” said Carrie.”
“I love you, Carrie. Will you not
give me just one small ray of hope?”
“I—I don’t know,” responded she.
Harry seemed very much in earnest.
Jack had never, during all the years
of their association, spoken of love.
She, like other girls in common, had a
deal of admiration for a brave man.
And Harry Sloane seemed a valiant
personage to Carrie, since lie had dared
to tell her that he loved her.
“Who does know then?” asked
Harry.
“I—cannot; I—please let’s go back
home now,” uttered Carrie.
“Shall we row the boat, the little
boat down there, up to the stream
which flows by the House?” said Harry
pointing to a small boat near them.
“If you wish,” said Carrie.
They got into the boat, and pushing
it from the shore, Harry plied the
oars. A silence fell upon them after
the boat had gone a short distance.
They reached the turn of tho water,
where the small stream poured its crys¬
tal waters into a lake. Harry turned
the boat around—horror! the frail
affair struck against a rock, and in
another instant they were both pre¬
cipitated into the water. Harry, as he
went over, managed to grasp hold of
the boat, and Carrie, as good luck
would haue it, found herself seated
securely upon the rock.
“Miss Hervey,” said Harry, “we are
in a nice predicament.”
“I’m wet through and through,”
cried Carrie.
Strangely enough, the thorough wet¬
ting seemed to take all the romance out
of both. Here in the water, up to
their waists, Harry hanging on to the
shattered boat for dear life, and Carrie
seated upon the rock, some ten or more
yards from shore, all—all affairs con¬
nected with love were utterly vague to
them.
“What shall we do?” said Carrie.
Harry did not reply. Swim lie could
not, and he knew if he once lost his
hold he would go down, down to a
watery grave.
“I—I’m sorry we started. I—I—
Miss, Miss Her—Hervey, wc shall both
he at the bottom by morning,” stub
tered Harry.
“Humph! I shouldn’t wonder a hit,
poor Mr. Sloane?”
“Wh—what do you—you mean?”
“Why don’t you <lo something, Mr.
Sloane? Swim to shore for another
boat. Do any thing to get me off this
horrid rock!”
“I—I can’t swim!”
“Jack can!”
‘Fm glad to—to hear it. I—I wish
Jack was hci'e.”
Carrie then seemed to be possessed
of an idea which she suddenly put into
effect, for raising her voice to its high¬
est pitch, she cried—“Jack! Jack!
Jack!”
“■Hallo!” a voice in tho distance re¬
sponded.
“Quick, Jack. Out here in the river
where the stream flows in,” cried Car¬
rie, as she espied Jack’s form upon the
shore.
Apd then Jack dashed Into the
LHS T COLNTON, GA., FRIDAY, MARCH 9, 1883.
water and walked as quickly as possi¬
ble to Carrie, took her in his arms, and
walked back to shore.
“Help? IIow am I to get ashore?”
yelled Harry.
“Walk ashore! The water is abbot
waist-deep. You don’t want me to
carry you, do you?” exclaimed Jack,
;is he walked off towards the house,
Carrie, very limp and dripping walk¬
ing by his side.
Harry walked to shore. What a fool
he had been. If he had only known
the depth of the water, perhaps he
would not have lost Carrie.
Anyhow, he returned to the city in
the morning; and I can assure you he
never mentioned the little circum¬
stance.
Carrie and Jack were married short¬
ly afterwards. She said that the sight
of Harry in the water had cleared away
all doubt, and she straightway knew
that she did indeed love Jack!
“The Roll-Call.”
The following account of Elizabeth
Thompson Butler’s (vonderful paint¬
ing “The Roll-Call,” is taken from the
article written by the artist’s sister in
St. Nicholas. In the spring of 1874,
“The Roll-call” was duly sent into the
Royal Academy, and was received with
a cheer by the committee. By degress
tidings of its success were carried to
the painter and her family; there were
unmistakable signs of a sensation in
the town; the clubs were full of
rumors of a great picture by a woman;
scraps of talk about it were overheard
in railway trains. And yet this pre¬
paration hardly broke the shock of sur¬
prise when, on the morning after the
Academy banquet, the speeches of
both the Prince of Wales and the Duke
ef Cambridge were found to refer in
terms of generous praise to the work
of the unknown girl. Such a Compli¬
ment had seldom or never been paid
to a new name, and it was the prelude
to a popular furore which can only he
described as unexampled. The Private
View had but one topic of talk, and
the picture was preserved from de¬
struction at the hands of a mob of
friendly sight-seers only by the efforts
of a policeman; not since the days of
Wilkie’s first great success had such
a guard been necessary. But “The
Roll-call” officer had unquestionably
a busy time of it; from morning till
night the throng never loosened or re¬
laxed from its hard knot in front of
the picture, except, indeed, on one oc¬
casion, when a gap, as memorable as
the crowd, occurred on the day when
the queen, who did not visit the Aca¬
demy at that time had the picture re¬
moved to Buckingham Palace for a
few hours, that she might see a work
of such special interest to a sovereign
who has always loved her army. “The
Roll-call” was, as has been said, the
result of a commission; hut, when her
majesty expressed a wish to possess it
herself, the owner loyally ceded his
claim, on condition that the next year’s
picture should he his. The copyright
was purchased for fifteen times the
amount of the original commission,
and during the ensuing four years was
either in the hands of the engraver
(Mr. Stackpoole, who produced on ad¬
mirable plate) or on view in the pro¬
vincial towns, where it became even a
greater lion than it had been in Lon¬
don. And if the picture was a lion,
the painter was the heroine of the sea¬
son, and so pursued with her celebrity
that the preservation of serenity of
mind was no slight achievement. The
whisper of her name drew crowds
about her in ballrooms, at exhibitions,
in the public ways; hut she never re¬
laxed work for a day. The next year’s
picture was her constant preoccupar
tion, and neither the pleasure of celeb¬
rity nor the distraction of notoriety
ever discomposed her. “Quatre Bras”
was exhibited in 1875, and drew a
crowd equal to that which thronged
round its predecessor; it had also the
honor of Mr. Ruskin’s praise. “It is,”
he wrote, “the first fine pre-raphaelite
' picture of battle we have had, pro¬
foundly interesting, and showing all
manner of illustrative and realistic
faculty. The sky is most tenderly
painted, and with the truest outline
of cloud of all in the exhibition; and
the terrific piece of gallant wrath and
ruin on the extreme left, where the
cuirassier is catching round the neck
of his horse as he falls, and the con¬
vulsed fallen horse, seen through the
smoke below, is wrought throngh all
the truth of its frantic passion with
gradations of color and shade which
I have not seen the like of since Tur¬
ner’s death.” “The Return from Ba¬
laclava” followed in 1876, and “Inker
man”—a return of infantry in this
case—in 1877.
Colonel ’Willoughby Williams of
Nashville, Tenn., owed about $300,000
at the end of tho war. Though then
nearly seventy years old, he went to
work, and before his death, which oc
cured recently, he bad paid every cent
of bis’ debts,
FOR THE BABIES.
Fashion Notes.
Bronze and crimson is a fashienable
combination.
Shoulder capes to match costumes are :
very fashionable. !
Terra cotta gloves are worn with pale
pink and blue dresses.
Crystal chandeliers and pendants are
coming into use again.
Very high standing collars, enclosing
a ruche, are much worn.
The favorite color for undressed kids
for street wear is dark tan.
The email capote and the large bon¬
net are equally fashionable.
Crenelated edges to fancy house
jackets are a growing fancy.
Shoes that lace over the instep ar
once more the height of fashion.
French dressmakers make a bonnet
and muff to match each costume.
White tulle is used in the place of an
invisible hair net to keep the front hair
in good shape.
A white China silk, with a plaited
gold pattern over it, is in favor for
bodies and paniers.
Buckles in rose, blue, green, copper
and other colors come for decorating
muffs, hat and bonnets.
Plain dark velvet opera cloaks lined
with striped plush and trimmed with
fur are a fashionable fancy.
The taste for lace of all kinds, real
and imitation, increases from season
to season and from day to day.
The fashion, of wearing the jacket
and waist of a different color and mar
terial from the skirt grows in favor.
Lace, which is more worn than ever,
and flowers are the two accessories
which make demi-toilet dresses elegant.
The corsage bouquet, or bow, is worn
high on the left sice of the bodice, near
the shoulder, and not far from the
neck.
The tendency to enlarge the sleeve
above the elbow until it has to he fulled
in at the armhole is marked in many
imported costumes.
An exquiste jabot collar is made of
double lace, with a bow at the throat,'
while the crossed ends are fastened
with a spray of flowers.
A pretty bow for the neck, to be
worn with evening toilets, is formed of
loops of delicately-tinted ribbon above
a fall of plaited lace. Tufts of flowers
ornament it at both ends.
An exquisite party dress for a little
girl of eight is of pale pink nun’s veil
ing, secured at the waist with wide
surah and finished with flounce and
berthe of open-work silk embroidery.
The tailor-made coats for ladies are
so tight-fitting, that the bodice of a
dress is generally taken off tor outdoor
wear, and a thin hut warm stockinette
one submitted, with long sleeves, fitting
as closely as possible.
Black satin dresses, with black gloves
and black ostrich feather fans, are seen
with cloaks of the most brilliant red
velvet. The bonnet worn with such
a toilet is red velvet, finished with a
border of finely cut jet beads.
The Chinese Minister’s Wife.
The wife of the Chinese minister at
Washington is twenty-five yedrs of nge.
She is quite petite, weighing only
ninety-four pounds, but is well pro¬
portioned, and her feet are not dispro¬
portionately small. She has lately
adopted the dress usual among fash¬
ionable ladies in Washington, and it is
\ en becoming to her. She w ears a
wine-colored brocaded velvet polonaise, j
over a plain velvet skirt of the same i
shade. The material is the richest it
was possible to procure. With this
suit she wears a hat having long
plumes on each side, aqd the brim
slightly drooping in front, She has
shown great interest in the few places
she has visited, and by her own desire
has been in two of the city churches,
but only at a time when there was no
service, as Chinese custom forbids a
lady of rank from appearing at a pub
lie assemblage.
A Working Empress.
A foreign paper says : The empress
of Austria, even putting aside the fact
that she is a grandmother, is a most j
marvelous woman, and has recently
been through a more than unusual
severe course of training for the hunt¬
ing season, which, by the way, she will
probably spend in Hungary. During
the time that her majesty was at her
summer residence at Ischl, in Upper
Austria, she generally rose at 6 o’clock
m the morning and devoted a couple
of hours to gymnastics and fencing,
after which the morning bath and a
plain hut hearty breakfast were sup- i
plemented by a walk or ride of some
*
hours.
Lately the empress has actually been
running for two hours a day, and to
encourage her in the exertion a pack
of beautiful foot beagles have recently
been sent to Godolo. The walking
> 0 s(ume in wet or cojd weather is a
long waterproof Newmarket coat,
brown straw hat, thick navy boots ; in
w<-a ther the long coat is changed
for a hunting slip of thin stuff. At
Godolo the empress has a circus, in
which she trains her own horses, and
rides them a la Renz.
Rouge and Powder.
The prevalent and increasing short¬
sightedness of our times is, perhaps,
partly the cause of the excessive use
of rou 8 e and powder. The wielder of
the powder puff sees herself afar off
as it were. She knows that she c-an
not judge of the effect of her com¬
plexion with her face almost touching
its reflection in the glass, and standing
about a yard off she naturally accentu¬
ates her roses and lilies in a way that
looks very pleasing to her, but is rathe,
startling to any one with longer sight.
Nor can she tone down her rouge with
the powdered hair that softened the
artificial coloring of her grandmother
when she had her day. Powder is
only occasionally worn with evening
dress, and it is by daylight that these
dreadful bluish re is and whites look
their worst. On the other hand, there
are some women so clever at making
up their faces that one almost feels in¬
clined to condone the practice in ad¬
miration of the result. These are the
small minority, and are likely to re¬
main so, for their secret is of a kind
unlikely to be shared. The closest in¬
spection of these cleverly-managed
eomplecions reveals no trace of art.—
Whitehall Review.
The Harvest House.
The well-know Harvest Mouse (J lic
romys minutus) is the smallest exam¬
ple of the mammalia in England, and
nearly in the world. This elegant lit¬
tle creature is so tiny that, when full
grown, it weighs scarcely more Mian
the sixth of an ounce, whereas the or¬
dinary mouse weighs almost an entire
ounce. Its color is a very warm brown
above, almost amounting to chestnut,
and below it is pure white, the line of
demarcation being strongly defined.
The color is slightly variable in differ¬
ent lights, because each hair is red at
the tip and brown at the base, and
every movement of the animal naturally
causes the two tints to he alternatelv
visible aud concealed.
It is called the Harvest mouse, be¬
cause it is usually found at harvest
time, and in some parts of the country
it is captured by hundreds in barns and
ricks. To the ricks it could never gain
admission, provided they are built on
proper staddles, were it not that it gets
into the sheaves as they stand in the
field, and is carried within them by the
laborers. Other mice, however, are
sometimes called by this name, although
they have no fair title to it; but the
genuine Harvest mouse can always he
distinguished by its very small size,
and the bright ruddy hue of the back
and the white of the abdomen. More¬
over, the ears of the Harvest mouse are
shorter in proportion than those of the
ordinary mouse, the head is larger and
more slender, and the eyes are not so
projecting, so that a very brief inspec¬
tion will suffice to tell the observer
whether he is looking at an adult Har¬
vest mouse, or a young specimen of any
other species. v
Mice always make very comfortable
nests for their young, gathering to¬
gether great quantities of wool, rags,
paper, hair, moss, feathers, and similar
substances.
As the food of the Harvest mouse
cons j s t s greatly of insects, flies being
espe cial favorites, it is evident that
great agility is needed. Its leap is re¬
markably swift, and its aim is as accu¬
rate as that of the swallow. Even in
captivity it has been known to take flies
from the hand of its owner, and tc
j ea p a j 0 ng the wires of its cage as
smar tly as if it were trving to capture
an insect that could escape. In the
airy cradle may sometimes be seen as
many as eight young mice, all packed
together like herrings in a barrel.—
Rev. J. D. Wood.
THE FAHIBY DOCTOR.
Hemorrhage of the lungs or stomach
may be quickly stopped by small doses
of salt.
There are times in the lives of chil¬
dren when colds are taken, no one
knows how, and when toothache is al¬
most unbearable, and yet it is not ad¬
visable to have the tooth extracted ;
one means of relief at such a tiilfte is to
cut a large raisin open, roast it or heat
it, and apply it around the tooth while
it is as hot as can he borne; it will op
er:de a little poultice, and will
draw out the inflammation. To wet a
A annel cloth with strong vinegar, and
then put a hot iron under it, and so to
s t eam face, w ill aid in reducing the
infl amma tion.
Don’t use your voice for loud speak¬
ing or singing when hoarse, is the ad¬
vice given by Dr. Foote’s Health
Monthly.
A Jlormon Romance.
When the overland train reaches
Ogden, the agitation of the female
mind about visiting Salt Lake City 1
becomes evident. There are always
some ladies going there for the benefit
of their health, and many more to
gratify their curiositv Mormon ; for, strange as
it may seem, the stronghold is
the great business, social and educar
Francisco. The conductor told us that
there were always ladies bound for
Salt Lake, particularly during the
winter, when the climate is salubrious;
yet even in a large party the members
of the fair sex felt a half-amused trepi
dation in preparing to inspect a society
so entirely at variance with their prin
c-iples and notions of propriety.
What, then, was our surprise to meet
on the very day of our arrival a Phila
delphia lady, a niece of an eminent
Presbyterian divine, who had been re
siding in the capital of Mormondom
for five years! She was a widow, whose
extensive landed interests lay in Idaho,
and who had found fine educational
advantages for her children, and a
pleasant social circle for herself beneath
the peerless blue sky and within the
circling snow-capped mountains that
bound Zion. She lived in a double
house with long French windows, sur¬
rounded by a blooming garden. The
furniture was elegant and convenient.
Church privileges were ample, and she
had some friends among the Mormons.
Her bete noire was her landlord, whose
particular offence was his too great de
sire to make improvements and repairs
upon her residence. His manners were
very mild and pleasant; but he at last
justified her antipathy by sending his
first wife to ask her to be his fourth
spouse. To free herself from associa
tion uithhirn after this, she
the house, when he coolly told her that
what she regarded as audacity had
been prospered by the Lord, and ena
bled him to sell at a profit.
The romance of Salt Lake City is
the story of Libbie Young, and visitors
are sure to hear it as an illustration of
how love rules the world. Libbie
Young resided in Philadelphia. One
of her relatives was the second’wife of
B righam Young, .Tr./snd while visiting
her husband fell in love witlv Libbie,
and Libbie became infatuated with
him. She refused to marry him, how
ever, unless he discarded his wives—
an agreement which, strange to
was agreed to. Brigham, Jr., then
made a settlement on each of them,
.ind he and Libbie were married. They
lhed happily until the death of old
Brigham induced his son to look to the
succession to the presidency, when, tc
strengthen his influence with the
church, he took to himself two new
wixes. On this Libbie left him, anel
ever since both of them have broken l
hearts. She still maintains intimate
relations wih his former wives, and
frequently visits them ; and when she
goes to Salt Lake, Brigham hovers
around her residence to get a glimpse
of her, but she will not see him. And
yet everybody says she loves him and
he still loves her, though ambition
proves the stronger passion.— Lippin
cott’s Magazine.
Shopping.
To woman there is a lurid faseina
tion in shopping that no man s imagi- ;
nation can comprehend. Take the
concentrated essence of enjoyment a
man gets out of smoking, chewing, j
base-hall, poo], poker and church so
cials, and you don t begin to size up
the unction of a healthy young wife
turned loose with a fifty dollar note in
her pocket, Shes in for a regular ben
der a wild dissipation of ruffles, laces
and things—and she flutters around
from counter to counter in a thrilling
ecstacy of pricing cottons and match
mg colors. The blissful dream is over
some time. Then with a sigh, B ’ she re
, leases . her , last . mekle, . , , which she has
tied up in the corner of her pocket 1 1
, am -eri , , carfare,
in 0 l ia > or ler
and she hurries home her head aching
fit to spilt, her Sweden feet bursting the
narrow bounds of her number four
Balbngans, and her heart cold with a
racking fear hat Jones’ young man
will change those checked hose for
sweet
after all.
Oil Vpou Troubled Waters.
' Captain Brice, of the inspectors j
one
of the Board of Trade, was in Aberdeen
Scotland, the other day, watching cx
periments for the purpose of rendering
the passage of vessels over the bar safe
in stormy weather by pumping oil upon
the water. A heavy southwesterly
gale was blowing. Seal oil was used.
After the pnmps had been at work
twenty minutes the crested waves,
which were dashing with great fury
against tho piers, became greatly as¬
suaged, and the entrance was rendered
safe. The experiments were considered
successful.
PUBLISHERS.
m 21.
Dreamland.
Only in visions does the future wart
To tell us of the mysteries to be:
Yet even thus we Unger at the gats
That opes eternity.
Except in dreams, the Past comes not again
With all its vanished weight of joy and
fears; -
Kut blindly we retrace, in grief and pain,
Tfce ^dened bygone years!
The present Hves; to bane ns or to bless
All good is at its side.
To Uve within the Present—yet to take
From out the Future and the darkened
Past
A11 hopes and lessons that for goodness
make—
May this be onrs at last!
—Wai.teb L. Sawteb in Youth’s Compan¬
ion.
PVXGEXT PARAGRAPHS.
A tale of the sea—A sea-serpent’s
The latest thing in cradles—The new
baby .
Years are like tigers. They always
come w jt b a spring,
Definition of a soldier of fortune—A
5oldier who has noQe .
When a man wants to step on tho
scales he gets aweigh.
We admire spirited animals, but de¬
liver us from a wildly enthusiastic
mule.
The rising young man of the future
is one who will be willing to jump up
and build the morning fires.
There are a good many desolate and
uncomfortable things in this world, but
a plug hat in a snow ^ strike s us
as about the climal
What is the difference between a
glass hal£ full of water ^ a broken
engagement?”—One is not filled full,
and the other is not fulfilled. <
.
With exceptional truthfulness a
quack doctor begins his advertisement;
**j 0 ff er my valuable services to all who
are so unfortunateastorequire them.”
Life must ^ a perfect desert to the
women of Salt Lake. What can they
talk about? There’s absolutely nothing
a man of that city can do that is scan
dalous • . v m
Said a farmer, who was given to long
drinks, to a brother agriculturist:
•■What breed of cattle would you advise
me to adopt V “Short horns,” was the
significant reply,
Four daughters of a Kentucky farm
er eloped in one night, each couple
taking a different road, and it drove
the old man about crazy to decide
which party to pursue,
Dong Tong is the name of a very
successful Chinese artist at Chicago,
He has painted the picture of a man
and a dog, and you can tell which is
the man and which is the dog almost at
a glance,
“Julia, my little cherub, when does
rour sister Enuna return?” “I don’t
xnow.” “Didn’t she say anything be¬
fore she went away?” “She said, if
you came to see her, she’d be gone tiU
doomsday.”
One gaeat unpleasantness attending
i man's getting married is his utter
insignificance on the occasion. The
bride is the object* of attention as the
star performer of the show, and he is
regarded merelv as a necessary pro
perty.
An exchange asks in hold head lines:
"Why do woman work?” Well, some
w r omen work because they enjoy it, and
0 thers because their husbands are busy
j n politics and the woman of the house
; s obliged to hustle around and earn
their daily " bread,
Carefully r - prepared statistics of the
public sales of short horns in the years
1S81 and 1882, show a marked increase
; n the price the last year, being about
$34 per head. The sales in 1881 averaged
$458 per head, and this year $192 per
head. This is encouraging for breeders.
0ne day toward nightfall, and in un
eertain Rented man boilght anover _.
coat of plum color. Tho
■ next • it •, proved ,, to , be of - quite
morning a
too unmistakeable . . , ,, green. ,, Returning , . °
it to the shopkeeper, , , that ... worthy
r ,,g. lrded the buyer calmly and said:
„ You mllst have a Uttle patience with
u dear sir . it isn > t ri p e yet »
..j tell vou what it is> ’ fellahs »
, . , . , .
‘ °
awful * olnm tion among the know%ut irls
0 niy wanted a little fun, yer
“ with me. U ' th Bon } ? ar f honor, iXU I jTl believe S iU T I’m
getting into hot water, yer know.” “Do
you?” said one of the girls who
chanced to overhear ; “well, perhaps it
will have the same effect upon you as it
does upon the lobster.” “I say, Mar¬
tha,” exclaimed Adolphus, turning
about, “you're deucediy sharp, yer
know, hut blamed if I know what
you’re driving at now.” “Oh, nothing;”
replied Martha; “only lobsters, you
know, are green till they get into hot
water.”
The annual cheese product of the
United States, for an average good
season, is now estimated at 400,000,000
pounds, and the butter product a(
1,200,000,000 pounds,