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HE * INCOLNTON NEWS.
YOL. III.
CENTRAL HOTEL,
AUCUSTA, CA.
MRS. W. M. THOMAS, Pbopeietbess
This hotel, 90 well known to the citizens oi
Lincoln and adjoining counties, is located j
in the center of the business portion of
Augusta. Convenient to Postoffice, Tele¬
graph office and Depot, such and other first-class induce¬
ments to the public as only
hotels can afford.
HEADQUARTERS i FOB All- 90008 IN OIIB lINE.
V
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LINCOLNTON, GEORGIA.
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—AND—
HIS DISEASES.
Containing an Index of X>1»
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Treatment of each. A Table
glvlnn all tile principal drugs
used for the Horse, -with the
ordinary dose, effects, and
antidote -when a poison.
Table -with an Engraving of
the Horse’s Teeth at different
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A NOTED DIVINE SAYS:
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been a martyr to Dyspepsia, Constipation and
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gained perfect, negular stools, solid piles flesh. gone, They and I worth have
their weight forty pounds are
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liBV. R.L, SIMPSON, Louisville, Ky.
SYM PTOMS OF
A TORPBD LIVER.
Tioss of A ppetite, K ausea, B owels cos tive.
Pain in the in ba the ck part, Hoad, Pain frith und a d ull the senjfcatioa S houlder
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Slade, fullne ss a fter eating, with a dla
Inclination to exertion of body or raincb
Irritability o£ tempe r. Low s pirits, Loss
of memory, with a feeling of having ne
lected some dut y. Weariness, Di zziness,
Flutte ring of th e he a rt. Pot s b e fore the
ayes, Ye tlow Ski n, Hea dache , ReetleBB -
neaa at night, hig hly colo r ed Ur i ne. ■
IF SERIOUS; THESE diseases WARNINGS will ABE be UNHEEDED,' developed.
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/ . TPTT’S 31 /I IV r A fi of Valuable \
I M>emailed information «««t Vscifoi Itfcciple will I
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THE AUGUSTA, ELBERTON AND CHICAGO RAILROAD.
•Tta Winter Note.
Ti» winter now, dear love,
’TIs winter, bitter, chill, and full of care;
Scarce do the hili-tops feel tile touch of day
Ere they be lading in the darkened air
Betwixt the sunset and the gloaming gray.
Scarce do the dells awaken with the son,
So tranced nnd still, each tangled snowy
steep;
Scarce do the muffled, tinkling waters run,
So lonely are the vales through which they
creep;
i'en years, sweet Mistress, would I give for one,
3 'Lsrrrs’S;.
I'h winter now, dear love,
The thrnsh sings not, or sings in other lands;
Dear memory is but pain and hope unblest;
Upon life’s threshold chilled affection stands
Like some poor faltering and unbidden guest.
Tho flowers of one sweet summer-time are
dead,
Deep in tho snow-drifts buried they are
sleeping;
-o soulless is the sun when love has fled,
Our treasured garlands wither with the keep
ing.
1 would the frozen earth wero now my bed,
So thought might start no tear,
So lonely is my life, so wretched and so drear.
—Robert Burns Wilson in Current.
A LOST P 0 CKETB 00 K.
“I don’t see why Althea needed to
, r o,” pouted Felicia Filkin, as she
crowded the last package into her
trunk, locked it, and pat the key in the
new red pocket-book she carried in her
hand. “I’d rather of gone by myself.”
“Your aunt invited Althea as well
is you,” said her mother, reprovingly.
‘And it’s better fur her to go. ’Tain’t
ittin’ fur a young girl like you to be
i-travelin’ alone on the railroad cars.
Slow don’t furgit to give ye'r Aunt
Ioanna them yarbs, Felicia! There’s
.he catnip fur Sary Ann’s baby, and
;he dill fur sick-headaches. An’ them
nullein leaves is to make tea fur Wil¬
iam Henry’s brownchitis. An’ there’s
sage, an’ pennyr’yal, an’ summer savo¬
ry, an’ spear-mint, all tied up in sepa¬
rate bunches. Tell Joanna to hev ’em
lung up in thekitchin to dry."
“An’ don’t furgit to buy that shaker
lannel, Felicia, an’ four yards of pink
raliker for my albium quilt,” said
Glrandma Filkin, looking over her
spectacles. “An’ the check for Susan’s
iprons.”
“I shan’t furgit nothin’!” answered
Felicia, impatiently.
“An’ mind an’ not lose yer money,
ir git your pockets picked,’’admonished
ler mother. “And be sure an’ make
fer aunt, an’ Sary Jane, an’ William
Henry come down next summer in
Dlackberry time.
“No danger of me gitting my pocket
ricked,” or losing myunoney,” retorted
Felicia, loftily.
And she climbed up into the front
teat of the wagon, beside Farmer
Filkin, while Althea sat behind on the
;runk, and the wagon rolled away,
'Mowed by a stout number-six shoe,
lung after them for “good-luck” by
Betty Bloomer,, who had come to help
with the housework while the girls
were away.
The cars were crowded, but Althea
lound a seat beside a stout lady with a
lumber of parcels in her lap, while a
roung man made room for Felicia
lext to himself, in the opposite seat,
lacing her cousin. He was a'tall, pale
wing man, and wore a linen duster
md a Wide-Awake hat.
“What black eyes he has, and what
i nice moustache!” thought Felicia.
‘He’s awful good-looking, and must
Oe rich, too, he has such good clothes.”
And when the young man ventured
■o make a remark about the dust, and
iffered to lower the window-shade for
ier, she answered readily enough, and
toon they were engaged in quite a con¬
versation.
Felicia informed her new acquain
;ance that she was on a visit to her
lunt in St. Louis; that she lived at
South Meadow, and that the young
ady with her was “only her cousin;”
vhile the stranger confided to her that
le had been travelling for a couple of
nonths for his health, and was on his
Kray to his home in St. Louis.
On reaching Union Depot, he polite
y assisted the girls off the train f
ihowed them into the ladles’ room, and
jffered to call a hack. Felicia declined
;he offer, however, saying that her
lunt was to meet them, and, v ith a
jolite bow, the stranger withdrew.
“Wasn’t he handsome and polite?”
whispered Felicia. “I wish we would
lee him again, and— Oh, where’s my
socket book? Althea, its gone!”
“Gone?” echoed Althea, blankly.
“Yes. He’s took it! He’s picked my
oocket! It was right next to him when
ive got off the train,” cried Felicia, de¬
spairingly.
“Oh, Felicia, he didn’t look like a
pickpocket! Maybe you dropped it,”
suggested her cousin.
“I didn’t drop it; it was in my
pocket!” .retorted Felicia, tartly. "And
10 ’s got it—I know lie has! Pickpockets
always do have black eyes and wear
LINC.OLNTON, GA., FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 20, 1885.
good clothes. And, oh, what’ll we
do?”
Althea had no suggestions to make,
and the two girls sat in drooping si¬
lence till their aunt appeared.
“Oh, aunt, I’ve had my pocket
picked!” sobbed Felicia. ‘‘A nasty,
mean young man, that helped us off
the cars, stole my pocket-book, with all
m y money in it!”
“Deary me! that is too bad!” said
Aunt Joanna, Sympathizingly. “But
** «* *»« ■■»»
money. And here s the hackmau for
your trunk. Where’s your check,
Felicia?”
“Oh, it was in my pocket-book, too!”
wailed Felicia—“and it’s gone!”
Here was a predicament, for now the
trunk could not be procured.
“I’ll go and tell the man in the bag¬
gage-room not to let anybody have it,”
said Aunt Joanna, who w r as practical
and energetic; “and will see then what
to do. There must be some way to
get your trunk. William Henry will
know all about it. But now we must
go home. You girls will be w anting
your dinner, after such a long ride, an’
Sary. An’ll wonder what keeps us.
And how is mother and sister, and all
the rest?” she asked, as they took their
places in the hack.
Aunt Joanna lived near the fair
grounds, and they had quite a long 1
ride from the depot.
They stopped before a pretty frame¬
house, with a grape trellis around the
door, and a rookery front. A round
faced woman stood on the porch with
a baby in her arms. A young man
came down a side street towards them
—a young man in a long linen duster
and a Wide-Awake hat.
“Oh, aunt, there he is now—the very
one that picked my pocket!” cried Fe¬
licia, hysterically. “Catch him—make
him give it up!”
“Where—where?!’ cried Aunt Joan¬
na, staring excitedly about.
“There, in the w r alk! He’s nearly
to the gate. It’s him—I know it’s
hinit” cried Felicia.
“That? Why, that’s William Hen¬
ry! He never stole your pocket-book,
Felicia,” asserted Aunt Joanna, indig¬
nantly.
. “What is it about a pocket-book ?”
asked William Henry, mystified by his
cousin’s ivords.
“She lost her pocket-book,” explained
Aunt Joanna. “A young man that
helped ’em off the train took it, and
Felicia thought you was him.”
“So I am,” said William Henry,
coolly; “that is, I helped her off the
ears, but 1 didn’t pick her pocket. I
came up on the same train with my
cousins, though I did not recognize
them, it’s been so long since I had seen
them before,” he added, looking more
particularly at Althea, who stood with
drooping eyes and blushing cheeks
behind her cousin.
“And did you think I was a pick¬
pocket, too?” he asked,as they followed
Aunt Joanna and Felicia to the house.
“Oh, no, indeed, I did not!” said Al¬
thea, eagerly, raising a pair of earnest
blue eyes to his face. “I was sure
Felicia had dropped it.”
Aunt Joanna could hardly forgive
her niece for the mistake, but William
Henry treated it as a joke.
“When I reached home and found
mother setting out to meet her two
nieces from the country, I knew, it
must be you!” he explained, “and I
thought how it would surprise you to
find me here, so I didn’t tell mother 1
had seen you. I’ll go down to-morrow
and see about Felicia’s trunk,” he ad¬
ded, as they all safdown to the dinner,
which Sary Ann declared “was stoDe
cold with waiting so long.”
Felicia felt mortified and ashamed
at her cousin’s words, bat she couldn’t
mend matters with further apologies.
“Hello!” cried William Henry, the
next morning, as he glanced over the
daily paper. “This must be yours,
Felicia! ‘Found, a red morocco pocket
book, at the Union Depot, which the
owner can have by proving property.
Call at this office.’ ”
And so Felicia recovered her pocket
book, which she had dropped in getting
off the train. Her trunk was procured,
and the catnip, mullein, etc., duly pre¬
sented and hung up in the kitchen to
dry, according to directions.
Somehow Felicia didn’t enjoy the
visit so much as she had expected,
though William Henry took the girls
out to the “Zoo-zoo,” to Tower Grove,
and Forest Park, and on to the great
bridge across the Mississippi, where
the band played on Thursday after¬
noons.
There was the shopping to do; also
the pink calico for Grandma Filkin’s
“albium" quilt, the shaker flannel and
the check for Susan’s aprons.
At last the visit was over and the
girls were starting home.
William Henry accompanied them
to tho depot,
“I wish you were going all the way,”
said Althea, shyly, as ho took her hand
to help her on the cars.
“So I am,” said WiUiaua Henry
promptly. “I’m going to ask Grandma
Filkin’s consent to marry you?’
And he looked admiringly at the
drooping eyes and pink cheeks, which
grew pinker beneath bis gaze.
******
“Wal, I dunno as I have anything
agin it, William Henry,” said Grand¬
ma Filkfn, slowly. “Althea’s a
mighty good girl, an’ kin keep house,
an’ weave an’ spin, ekal to anybody in
the county. But she ain’t got a cent
of money to her name. Now, if you’d
of tuck a fancy to Felicia—”
“I don’t want Felicia; I want Al¬
thea,” persisted William Henry; and I
don’t care if she hasn’t got a cent. I
can earn enough for us both.”
And so they were married; and Fe¬
licia acted as bridesmaid with the best
grace she could assume, though she
always felt as if she had been defraud¬
ed of her rights in not having the
bride’s place instead. —Helen Whitney
Clark.
CLIPP1XG8 FOB THE CIBIOV8.
A case of scarlet fever in a canary
has been described by Dr. Ogston, of
Aberdeen, Scotland.
A species of wild potato, indigenous
to the mountains Qf Arizona, has re¬
cently been discovered. They are
about the size of walnuts, and grow at
at elevation of about 8,000 feet.
“To Site the thumb” at any person
implied an insult; hence, in “Borneo
and Juliet,” Sampson savs, “I will
bite my thumb at them; which is a
disgrace to them, if thev bear it.”
According Accoruing to to an an old oici law law of ot Pennsvl i ennsyi
vania a hanging cannot be witnessed
by more than thirty-seven persons.
These include a jury of twelve ap
pointed pointed by by the judge iudn-e of the the circuit
court, two spiritual advisers, the
sheriff, twelve special deputies, three
members of the condemned man’s
family, and seven representatives of
the press.
When the ancient tower of Kukstatt
Abbey fell, in 1779, Whitaker, a few
days afterwards, discovered, embedded
in the mortar of the fallen fragments,
several little smoking pipes, such as
were used in the reign of James L
for tobacco, a proof of the fact, which
has not been generally recorded, that
long prior to the introduction of that
plant from America, the practice of
inhaling the smoke of some indigenous
vegetable prevailed in England.
When both parents have eyes of the
same color, eighty-eight per cent, of
the children follow their parents in
th's feature, and of the twelve per
cent, born with eyes other tftan the
parental color a part must be attribu¬
ted to intermittent heredity, More
females than males have black or
brown eyes in the proportion of forty
nine to forty-five. With different
colored eyes in the two parents fifty
three per cent, of the children follow
the fathers in being dark eyed, and
sixty per cent, follow their mother in
being dark eyed.
PEARLS OF THOVGHT,
Men fear death as children do to go
into the dark.
There is always hope in a man that
actually and earnestly works.
Men are never killed by the adver
sities they have, but by the impatience
w hich they suffer.
In giving, a man receives more than
he gives, and the more in proportion
to the worth of the thing given.
The beauty of the face is a frail
possession, a short-lived flower, only
attached to the mere epidermis, but
that of the mind is innate and un
changeable.
Much depends upon a man’s courage
when he is slandered and traduced.
Weak men are crushed by detraction:
but the brave hold on and succeed.
There are men whose presence in¬
sures trust and reverence; there are
others to whom we have need to carry
our trust and reverence ready made.
The apprehension of evil is many
times worse than the evil itself; and
the ill a man fears he shall suffer, he
suffers in the very fear of them.
A man troubles himself with imag
inary sorrows, and discards thos
things which could help him easily ti
eradicate those sorrows.
A Peculiar Gift.
According to the London Lancet, t
young girl who has recently died in
the asylum at Hamburg possessed th«
peculiar gift of changing the color ol
her hair according to the state of hei
mind. In “periods of sedateness” her
hair was of its natural dull color; when
excited it became reddish, and her
anger was indicated by a blonde color,
Three days were generally required for
the change to be completed, and her
complexion also varied in the same
periods and in the same direction.
CAREER OF “YUBA BILL.”
Tho Original of One of Bret
Hart’s Heroes,
A Man of Many Adventures Now a Peace¬
able New York Truck-Driver.
There is a man in this city, writes a
New York correspondent of the Troy
Times, that claims to be Bret Harte’s
original “Yuba Bill.” His name is
Seely, his occupation is a truck-driver,
.and whether the novelist has drawn on
him for matter or not, he is a singular
most” most a'fcore a 3core of years ““ ago, “TSS and his fam- f
“1. ’"*>> «— o. a
3 Avres" 1 °Tm«
Buenos d! A Z ’ nth h A ’ d
two hf Alm03t u , any evenmg
he can f ri rr • t h
P
a clay pipe in an advanced state of
color and relating to a choice circle of
friends and admirers some episode of
his checkered career. Physically he is
a fine specimen of manhood. On an
enormous pair of shoulders rests a weU
shaped head with a short neck. The
fn face „. is bronzed , by exposure, and , .. his
m , f r f'"'S': rf To ^
those o( a mao accostomeJ to lookmg
great distances in the mount.,n. aod
prairies. His gait is peculiar and
awkward, and he explains it bv saying
that until he entered Jim Fisk’s ser .
vice as master of teams he never wore
anything on his feet but mocassins.
Here is a short account of his life
as given by himself: “I was born, I
® l iqoo olfthon^
makes me about 64 Y ears old . thou 8 h
1 don,t look it; ; birthplace was
Springfield, Me. When I turned 6 the
Cherokee Indian3 made a raid on our
neighborhood, and carried me off with
them. I was taken to the reservation
of the Six Nations, and remained there
about eight years. Of course I learned
the six Indian dialects. Shall I give
you a specimen?‘Toma woma to- / ft
“Pray don’t,” I gasped to him. “WeU,”
continued Seely, “I got tired of Indian
life after eight years were over, and
ran away from the reservation. I was
pretty young, but I knew how to take
care of myself. Later on I joined
Fremont’s expeditions; the first in 1842,
up the*Platte river, and the other that
went all the way from Kansas to Fort
Sutter, on the Sacramento. I’m not
going to tell you anything about those
expeditions, because you’ve only got to
open any history of the United States
to find out all about them. But what
you can’t find out in history is just
this: Here, just draw your finger this
way across my head, so. Now you
feel that three-inch scar running across
mv skull? This is how I got that:
When the Texas rev0 luti 0 n broke out
I was the first to volunteer, and when
the war on Mexico was declared I also
volunteered. I fought under Zach
Taylor until after Buena Vista, then I
was under old Scott. Just as we were
storming the portions of the City of
Mexico above Puerto del Rey a bit of
shell struck me on the foot and floored
me. I felt pretty uncomfortable and
groaned so loud that one of my pards
asked if I didn’t want to be put out of
my misery. I thought he was going
t0 give me Ins flask, and so 1 bright
ened up. AVell he began fumbling in
his cartridge-box—a curious place for
a flask, it seemed to me. Then he
hauled out a solitary cartridge, his
last one, but it was wet and lie threw
it away. After a second or tw’o I
lieaid him mutter : ’Confound this
business,’ and before I could give an
other groan I got my skull split open
with the butt of his musket. That’s
what he called putting me out of my
misery, but he only made it worse,and
I told him so after I came out of the
hospital.
“Did I ever drive a mail? You bet
I did, and the first one that ever ran
between Fort Leavenworth and San
Francisco. The Indians were tough
customers in those days, I can tell you,
and it’s many a time they went for the
coach, but they never got much out of
it while ‘Yuba Bill’ was on the box_
except bullets. These they received
gratis in unlimited quantity. They
got square on me once, however. My
home was on a ranch six miles from
Topeka and after each return trip I
p$d my old woman and the children
a few hours’ visit One night, on
nearing the homestead, I heard heavy
Bring, and when I reached it I found
tey poor children dead and the old
Woman standing over their bodies, the
Sight of one eye gone and a smoking
musket in her hands. She had just
bad a three hours’ fight with half a
dozen Indian cattle-lifters. The same
flight I started in pursuit with some
friends, among whom was Kit Carson,
and before the sun went up the next
morning three ' of the fiends were
swinging from a tree. My old.woman
is still living, minus an eye.
“After six years’ mail-coacbing I
took to hunting, mining, and all sorts
of things. When the war broke out I
served as a scout under Gen. Thomas.
When that was over I got into Jim
Fisk’s employ at $100 a month, board,
lodging, and pin money, This old
velvet coat I am wearing now belonged
to Jim; see the name in the collar
lining. After Fisk’s death I became a
truckman with Fuller’s express, and
later on with Garner & Co. Mr. Gar
ner, you remember, was drowned with
< VhifyLift
Mohawk club-hou‘se n Xe w York bav Island opposite
the at Staten
_ "»'■ , ™ «“ • . •»"“* ,, ,
“Yuba Bill’s” daughters are very
comfortably married, the husband of
the elder holding a very good position
Turkish Bath for Horses,
The Turkish ,..... bath has recently come
. to her extensive for the
“ ™ use curing
StableS as weU ^ 33 f *7 V ™T
’
corporation^ are now fitted with com
plete r horse-baths. A recent number
.
stables of the Great Xorthera Hailway
comp..., ' wMd. shows a compact
£ th P „, ‘ te ,7 e ept i„u.roo “ r. m aud “ a, “l aplae!
.
ur 6 ouc e ’ eia " a ° u een
feet wide and twenty-four feet long;
6 e ot room '’ °P eniD 8 ou
0 f the r eception room, are each some
what 633 kan 7*7 wide by the
^melengHi as the other. Hot air is
supplied to the smaller rooms from a
‘^^ery” outside, and ventilating
shaftg , emove it M faat „ vitiated
Both the3p roQ ^ separated P from
the reception room by doubla doors, to
prevent loss o£ heat; aad 311 °P ettin S’
° Ver which a CUrtain is hun ^’ connect3
1 6 twa
The first warm room, a “teDidarium,”
is kept at a temperature of about 140
degrees Fahrenheit; while the second
a cahdarium ....... 13 ke c at „„„ lb0 or
’ P
11,0 de « rees - The rece P tion room is
warmed only by the heat which escapes
from the other two. The horses, upon
treatment, are first rubbed down in the
reception room, and led into the “tepi
darium,” where they stay until they
are accustomed to the heat, and are
then, if their case seems to need it,
taken into the “calidarium,” where
they stay until sufficient perspiration
has taken place. From this room they
return directly into the reception room,
where they are bathed according to the
judgment of the attendant in charge.
As horses are nat urally thin-skinned,
and liable to the disorders which pro¬
ceed from a checked perspiration, it
may be readUy imagined that the Turk¬
ish bath, by its powerful action in
opening the pores of the skin, might be
of great use in treating them; and it is
said that a firm of carriers in London
has had such a bath in operation for
more than eleven years, treating dur¬
ing that time about twenty horses a
week .—Popular Science Neivs.
XationaJ Xieknames.
In the revolutionary war Genera
Washington was often in want of sup¬
plies. He had unbounded confidence in
his friend, Jonathan Trumbull, who was
at that time governor of Connecticut,
and \y as nin«ton used to S3v, verv fre
que ntly, “We must consult Brother Jon
athan.” In this wav the term “Brother
Jonathan” came to be applied to the
American people. The national nick
name of “John Bull” was first given to
an Englishman in a ludicrous history of
Europe, written by Dr. Arbuthnot. The
man is described as a bluff, kind-hearted,
bull-headed farmer. In this satire the
French are called Lewis Baboon, and the
Dutch Nicholas Frog. The Scotch arr
called “John Bull’s Sister Peg”—a poo
girl raised on oatmeal and water and
lodged in a garret exposed to the north
wind. She is represented as being very
much in love with “Jack,” who repre
' sents John Calvln - -
Gaunt Poverty.
Little Boston Girl-“ Oh, ma! those
folks next door is awful poor.”
Ma—“ Poor ? AVhy, pet, they are very
wealthy Philadelphians, who are only
residing here temporarily.”
“ But they are poor, ma. I never
saw people so badly ofl . j was in there
this morning.”
“AVhy, child, what do you mean?
Their house is magnificently furnished
AVhy do you think they are poor? ”
“ They had no pie for breakfast.”—
Philadelphia Call.
According to Mr. J. Harrington
Douty, of the asylum at AVorcester,
England, an imperfect supply of oxy¬
gen, or simply breathing a vitiated
atmosphere, may suffice to produce the
mental disorder known as raelancho
^
The overhead wires in New York cityl
if in straight lines, would extend from
San Francisco to London.
NO. 19.
BVXOBOV8.
The fireman is the chap who has
to endure a hot climb.
Dinner dresses are worn full—by
those of good appetite.
The land of nod—The auction
room.
The most humorous member of a
dog is the wag of his tail.
The foot notes of any good medical
work ought to contain cures for corns>
Johnnie was kicked by his pony.
“ What made him kick vou? ” in< J uire *
-
hl3 ^P^izing aunt. “I don’6
kn0W him. /’ “M* Joh ™ ie ‘ ** *** “ k
.. ArtlacU heat „ th
heading in an agricultural journal,
The writ « has probably endeavored
t0 ca P tur e a chicken by chasing it;
-■* — v**
“Fashions in children’s shapes will
be the same as usual this winter,” says
an exchange. We are glad to know
this, as we have always argued stren¬
uously against any changes in the pre¬
vailing style of infants.
“I’ll take it out of his hide,” re
tb' verl “g passion to some tajoalc.
hl “ »? a schoMmata "Dotft
take it out othls hide. Jim," t.pUed
th< hl « h *hool girl, "extract it from
his epidermis.”
A shrewd old lady cautioned her
™ arr * e< au “ lte " a g aiast worrying
her husband too much, and concluded
by saying: “My ch.id, a man is like an
egg. Keep it in hot water a little while
he may boil soft, but keep him
there too long and he hardens.”
WHAT "° RRIED IIBR ‘
Oh! has she a sorrow too deep for tears,
Both there lie at her heart a nameless dread,
Di ^ illadow y for th * comin s ?««.
° r ^ reRret8 f0r * he bright h ° urS fled?
She hears a step and her heart beats fast,
’Tis hft lover’s footsteps, her quick ear tells,
And she soft! y marmure > “ ’Tis he, at last;
1 hope he il!13 brousUt me thc !”
Care of Sheep in Winter.
Shepherds, like poets, are born, not
made. You may find a dozen men who
can be trusted to take care of horses,
cows or pigs, to one who is fit to be
entrusted with the management of
sheep. Why, we do not know. All
the great sheep herders of the world
have given much of their own time
and labor to the care and supervision
of their flocks. We have not space
here to go into details and in fact it is
not necessary, as these vary greatly, ac¬
cording to circumstances. Much must
be left to the common sense and ex
perienceof the shepherd. If any of our
readers are going to keep sheep this
winter, and have had little experience,
we would advise' them to consult some
good farmer in the neighborhood, and
in addition to this, the following
hints maybe useful: Sheep must have
dry quarters. Nothing is so injurious
as damp, ill-ventilated cellars, barns
or sheds. Do not think you can make
such places warm, airy and comfort¬
able by the liberal use of straw for
bedding. This only makes the matter
worse. There is nothing a sheep dis¬
likes more than fermenting manure
pile. To compel a flock of breeding
ewes to lie on a mass of damp straw
and manure several inches deep, is al
most certain to be followed by a weak,
puny, sickly crop of lambs. We ■ once
knew a valuable flock of South Downs
that has entirely disappeared. Goitre
destroyed the lambs. We know’ anoth
er large flock of Longwood sheep that
suffered severely in the same way.
In the former case the sheep were
shut up in a small shed and yard.
The rain from the roof of the shed
ran into the yard. Straw was thrown
in from time to time and the poor
sheep were compelled either to stay in
in the shed or stand '»n the mass of
wet straw. In the other oa3e the
sheep had damp sheds aad cellars to
sleep in. but as they had the run of a
large yard, the results were not so
disastrous. Many lambs died of goitre
and infantile pneumonia, but as soon
as dry quarters were provided, the
animals gradually improved in
health .—American Agriculturist.
He Had Changed.
A bright little fellow, about three
years of age, was very anxious to go
to walk with his father.
“No,” said the latter, “you can’t go;
you’re too little.”
“Oh, no, papa,” he said stoutly, “I’m
a big boy.”
“All right,” said his father, “come
along.”
. On the way home the little fellow
became tired, and wanted his father to
carrv him.
"I thought you were a big boy!” said
his father, pretending to sneer.
“I was a big boy when I started
out,” he said, “but I m a little boy
now.” He was carried the rest of the
way.