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THE LINCOLNTON NEWS
VOLUME IV.
A Little Giant.
ntnow a llttle^jlant^Qo bigger than a^taek^
him on his back;
His knotted little muscles, almost too email to
Could spy. hardly
to turn you topsy-turvy and seem
To tweak try.
tbe nose, and plnob the toes, and fill
one full of woe.
Are jokes the midget loves to play alike on
friend and foe.
But he oan do still greater things than make a
He big man squeal—
can bar split a stone In splinters, or break a
of steel:
He can shape the dripping eaves' drops Into a
crystal spear.
And clutch the falling rain so hard, 't wlU
turn all white with fear ,
He can chain the dashing river, and plug tho
He running build spout;
can a wall upon the lake and shut the
water out.
But if you want to see this little giant cut and
Just run,
build a tiny Are, or step out and fetch the
sun.
—Harold W. Raymond, in “Jack-ln-the-Puk
pit,” St. Nicholas for April.
A MYSTERIOUS MARRIAGE.
It. was Christmas Eve.
I sat down on the bank of the river,
and listened to the sullen gurgle of the
■water as it crept stealthily up around
the slimy green piles whioh supported
the It pier.'
called to me with the voice of a
friend, and heaven knows that the
voices of friends were not numerous
enough what dreary in mv ears at that time. Oh,
a Christ mas-time it was!
It was only the old story, I was a
journalist—a literary hack- —with some
talent: but my style, they told me. was
out of fashion; and “just then there was
no call for that particular kind of arti¬
cle,” and the courteous editors showed
me to tlie door, aud blandly remarked
on the weather, as if a poor creature
who was starving cared what the weath¬
er was.
1 had tried for work at anything
which offered. I had gone out into
tlie country, aud sought for employ¬
ment hire on a farm, with white hut nobody hands wanted like mine. to
a man
1 had offered to work for board and
lodging, told but the shrewd old fanners
me that a man who would work so
cheap as that was not worth his salt; so
1 returned to the great city, spent my
last sixpence for a meal at a cheap
restaurant, and went down to the river,
resolved to put an end to it before
Christmas morning broke.
Yes, there was a woman in the case.
There generally is when a man comes
to I an had extremity loved her such as I was in.
from boyhood up.
She was fair aud sweet, and I thought
the little house we had so often talked
about would be an earthly paradise, but
when luck went against me, and every¬
hill, body seemed anxious to help me down¬
she joined the majority, aud told
me, vfith cruel coolness, that her papa
did not. think it best that she should
marry Two a weeks man so afterwards naturally shiftless.
she was tho
bride of old Goldbeater, who had ouo
wife living and one dead, and live
grown-up children, besides money
enough to dress her in cloth of gold, if
he had chosen.
I was a fool, no doubt; any man is a
fool to wreck his life for a woman like
that; but I was young, ana Agnes had
forme hitherto so much of my life.
Never mind: let her pass.
1 had written no letters to leave be¬
hind me. Nobody in the world would
care, when they found my dead body,
some day, what led to the' act; it would
make nice newspaper paragraph, and
that w.is all.
I looked up at the sky set with stars,
a faint waning moon just coining up in
the east No man looks his last on any¬
sadness. thing he has loved without a feeling of
The stars were no more a part
of my world; henceforth I should be
above them, or—God knew.
I closed my eyes and said a little
prayer When I opened them again I
was not alone. Two figures stood beside
me—tall men, well muffled up, and with
an air of authority about them. One of
them laid a heavy hand on my shoulder.
and “Young with man,” said You he, “give desperate it uj
come me. are
enough man!” for anything. You are ouf
■ “For what?” I asked, struggling tq
free myself from his grasp, but in vain.
“For marriage,” he answered in an
impressive I tone.
“Marriage!” laughed aloud. I cried. th*
“Where is
woman insane enough to marry a pool
wretch like me, who has not courage
enough flee from to live—who troubles is that cowardly has enough
to he no)
pluck enough to grapple with?”
“You are to know nothing,” said th«
man, “Come tightening his grasp on my should
er. with me; ask no questions
do as you are hidden, and for yoii|
night’s work you shall have the sum ct
one thousand pounds paid down to yor
in cash.”
Without a word more spoken between
us, I turned and followed him, thf
other man, who had not joined in thf
conversation, the foot of'the bringing up in the rear.
At street a close carriagi
was in waiting. I was asked to ste
into it. I did so. One of the men too
hjs seat by my side, while the other
mounted the box beside the coachman.
We started off at a rapid pace. An
hour’s hard driving took us beyond the
confines of the city; the pavements were
succeeded by soft country roads.
By-and-by—it had seemed an age to
me—the carriage turned out of the road,
and began the ascent of a steep incline.
We drove through a ponderous 1 ate
way, lighted closely by a lamp, each up side a long with
aveuue, set on
trees, and stopped before a large house
whose windows were dark as a tomb.
Somewhere in the distance I heard a
bell ring, aud directly the great door of
the house was opened, and a voice bade
us enter
My companion drew his arm carpeted through
mine, and led me up a thickly
stairway, along a corridor extremity lighted by of
one dim lamp, and at the
the passage he rapped lightly on a closed
door.
It was opened silently from within,
and we passed shadowy through. furnished
I saw a long room,
in pale blue, and sitting ladies, together, botjj veiled. on a
Jpw coucjg wer« two
These two women rose at our en
trance, aud my companion spoke a few
words to them in a language 1 did not
understand. Then he turned to me.
“This lady,” said he, touching the
slighter of tlie women on the arm, “is
to be your wife. Her name, her family,
you are never to know! But you are to
hold yourself in readiness to appear ati
any time before a justice, and swear
that on the night of December 24th,
18—, you were, to the bfut of your be¬
lief, legally married to the lady whom
we shall for convenience call Mary
Marston. And in return you are to re¬
ceive the sum of one thousand pounds;
and you are never, on any account, to
mention what lias transpired to-night
until you are called to do so by some¬
one, who shall bring you the other half
of this ring;” and he placed in my hand
the broken half of a chased gold ring.
1 bowed. Indeed, if I had felt any
misgivings this proceeding, touching the strangeness of
I was too much under
the draw spell back. of my mysterious surroundings
to
“Let the ceremony proceed,” said the
man who acted as spokesman; and out
from the drapery which covered the
windows issued u clergyman with his
face hidden in a cowl, and arrayed in
the full robes of his order.
The woman to whom I was to be mar
ried advanced as tep at his bidding,and
laid her hand in mine. Heavens? whati
a thrill ran through me at the touch! I
closely clasped the soft , warm white
hand, and forgot that I had ever knows
a false base woman by the name of Ag¬
nes. Her hand trembled a little, but the
touch on mine was firm. I felt that she
was The doing what she proceeded. did willingly.
At the ceremony solemn
words, "I. Arthur, take
thee, Mary,” I started. How did these
know people know my name? How did they
that I was called Arthur Daven¬
port? It
was over. I had signed the registoi
presented to me, I had kissed the hand
of the woman who was my wife, and
my two companions, who had brought
me thither, were alone with me.
“Your part of the business is accom¬
plished,” said the man who acted as
spokesman. “We will do our part.”
He handed me a package, and bade
me examine it. 1 aid so, and found ten
hundred-pound “We will notes.
take you home now',” he
said; and in the same quiet and mys¬ ‘
terious manner I was conducted out of
the house, into a carriage, and driven
away. They
left me just where they had found
me, on the river-bank, and without an¬
swering a single question I put to them,
they vanished away in the darkness.
The first faint streak of the breaking
day shot up in the eastern sky as I
stood there lost in wonder. The whole
thing should was have like been a nightmare. inclined to look Indeed, I
it only dream, had it been upon
as a not for
the package of notes in my breast-pock¬
et. That, at least, was a reality, aud a
very I agreeable one.
went back to my lodgings with a
new sense of importance. Life was
worth living. After all, there is noth¬
ing his makes a man more satisfied with
lot than plenty of ready money.
I resolved to begin anew. I kept my
resolution. When editors found that I
could live without them, they were ready
My to buy style my productions style. at my own price.
became the I had all
the work I could do. 1 wrote a success
ful book, and speedily the time came
when 1 was welcomed in the very high¬
est circles, and smiled on by managing
mothers who would before have if I set had the admired dogs
on me a yeav
their Angelinas and Seraphiuas.
But I no longer cared for tbe smiles of
women. Ridiculous as it may seem, I
was in love with my unknown wife.
The word “Mary” held for me all that
this world could offer of the sweetness
of love.
In vain I sought to trace her—in vain
I spent all my leisure time in wander¬
ing around the country, trying to iden¬
tify some old mansion as the one which
had been the scene of my midnight
‘bridal.
At length, one day I took passage on
an excursion boat bound for one of the
imanv had hall-a-dozen places of interest friends on with the river. I
me, bound
for How just a day’s outiug.
nobody it happened tell nobody how could dreadful tell—
ever can these
Wccidents do happen—but four or five
miles out, our boat Collided with an¬
other boat, and the usual scene of terror
and confusion followed.
The boats were unfit for use, and if
they had been in order, nobody would
have been cool enough to launch them,
and after a few moments of wildest dis¬
may, it was evident that our boat must
go down.
And while men were rushing hither
and thither for the women of their par¬
ty, and women and children were
screaming settled the in water’s mortal edge, terror, the boat
to and I, being
an expert swimmer, decided to take to
the water and make for the shore. As I
threw off my coat and boots my eye fell
evidently on a solitary all alone. girl I standing spoke close her. by,
to
“Madame, have you any friends on
board?”
“No, I am alone,” she said, in the
sweetest voice I had over heard. “My
friends went yesterday. I was to join
them I thought there to-day.” looked
she at me strangely,
that she blushed and trembled as she
■poke, analysis. but it was no time for critical
“Will you trust yourself to me? I am
a good swimmer; 'if we both keep cool,
I can easily swim with you to yonder
shore.”
She replied by putting her hand in
mine. A and sense familiar of something sweetly
strange her touch. yet 1 came around over her me
at put my arm
and leaped into the water.
1 'me She in frantic never hindered despair, mo, or clung to
as most women
would have done. Site did as 1 told her,
and after a tough battle with the angry
water, we readied the shove.
And as I drew my companion up on ths
bank.jjl found that she had fainted dead
away. Lik such I
e any other man in a case,
was practically helpless. She looked
like death—and, qh, kqw be^uUftil *h«
UKVOTKD TO THE INTEBI- 8T OE LINCOLN COUNTY.
LINCOLNTON, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, JUNE 18, 1886.
was! A wealth of sunny hair rippling
all around her brow and falling in wild
confusion over her bosom. I lifted her
up and loosened the wet lace scarf
around her throat, and as I did so a
slender gold chain fell off in my hands.
I stood and gazed at it like one stupe¬
fied, for attached to it by a golden rivet
was the other half of the ring which had
been given me on my wedding-night
As I stood there staring like one gone
daft, the girl opened her eyes. She un¬
derstood at a glance, and with a cry of
dismay For struggled to her feet
a moment we stood looking at
each other, and then her head drooped,
her face grew crimson from brow to
bosom.
What spirit of boldness possessed me
I do not know, but I took her in my
arms and whispered in her ear the ques¬
tion;
“Is it my wife?”
And she answered me;
“Yes, it is your wife!”
Later on, when we had been made
comfortable at an adjacent hotel, she
told me her story.
Left an orphan, with a very large in¬
heritance, the terms of her father’s will
had made her the ward of an avaricious
uncle, who had contrived in every
way to make her life uncomfortable. If
she died unmarried, all her property was
to go to this uncle, but if she married,
she was to have the right to dispose of
it as she saw fit
Just before the time when our bridal
took place she had fallen rapidly worse,
for her healtli had long been failing,
and her physicians saitf she must die.
She resolved that her uncle should not
profit by her death, and the onlv way to
foil him was to contract a marriage.
She had been kept secluded, poor
child, and she had formed no attach¬
ment—indeed, the whole end and aim
of her uncle’s life had been to keep her
from having a lover, and during his
temporary plan absence from home, the wild
of marrying any man who would
lend himself to the 'scheme had been
presented Weakened to her by her waiting-woman.
sented, and by illness she nad con
the family physician, and
the lawyer who had drawn up her
father’s will, had selected me as the
groom. The doctor had known some¬
thing of me, and was pleased to regard
me as heartily unobjectionable, proud and I am sure I
was of his good opinion.
And strangely enough, after her mar
riage, my wife rallied, her health came
back, and her villainous old uncle emi
grated as soon as he learned that he
was poisonous suspected drugs of to having his administered with view,
niece a
to the advantages which would accrue
to him in the event of her death.
“And would you never have made
yourself known'to me?” I asked, when
she had made her brief explanation.
“I should never have dared to!” she
said timidly. “It was such a dreadful
uumaidenly “It thing to do!”
was the loveliest, and nicest, and
best thing in the world to do!” I told
her, kissing her blushing face, and I
still think so, though twenty years have
elapsed since Mary Marston Kingsley
became my wife.
Drawing the Line.
It was a Nebraska jail, tavern, sa¬
loon, and real-estate agency combined.
The sheriff came out to welcome the
traveler, and ho seemed to beavery nice
iort of a man.
“Things know,” isn’t just as I’d want ’em,
you he apologetically ob¬
served, “but this is a new country, and
we can’t have everything at once.
Make yourself right to home while the
old woman cooks dinner.”
While waiting for the promised meal
one of the five or six men lounging
around asked the the place traveler entered the room
and for a chew of
tobacco.
“Jim, you musn’t do it—you really
musn’t,” said the landlord. “1 want
to do what’s right and fair, but I must
draw the line somewhere. You jail¬
birds must not try to put yourselves
on an equality with the guests of my
hotel.”
“A jail-bird, do you sayP” quivered
the traveler, as Jim withdrew.
“Yes. He’s in for two months. All
that “But crowd where out there the jail?” are in jail.”
is
“Right there. Taiu’t no silver-plated,
palace, I’ll admit, afford.” but it’s the best the
couuty can
“Where do you lock ’em upP”
“Nowhere. There isn’t a lock on
any door.”
“But what prevents ’em from run
ning “Nothing off?”
in pertickler. Reckon
they’ll all clear out as soon as the gruh
gits whisky." poor and 1 begin to water the
“And you won’t try to stop ’emP”
“O no. I’m willing to be sheriff and
jailer, along, and 1 want to see the couuty git
but they musn’t put too many
burdens on me."— A’ew York Sun.
No Good on t he Game.
A member of a Lawrence county, Da¬
kota, school board was speaking of the
teacher “That employed. felier ain't givin’ satisfac¬
no
tion at all,” he said.
“Wliy, 1 thought he came out from
the east highly recommended.”
“Oil, I sqiose he was, but he don’t
seem to suit, jist the same.”
“But he has a lie’s good education.”
"Yes, 1 guess got a straight flush
on ed’acation all right ’null', but tho
trouble’s right here: poker Natcrly, you know,
the and, big boys co'rse, have have a tlie teacher game, at noon, iu.”
uv set
“Yes.”
“Well, l‘m cussed of they ain’t jist
'bout cleaned him out uv his wages!
Now, what kind uv a ’zantple down do you
call that, lettin’ boys him that
way? 1 don’t want my children go’n’
to no sieh school. Seems ’sif we can’t
hardly git a good teacher no more—
blamed ef 1 don’t b’lieve I’ll go over an’
take holt uv the school niysolf .”—-Ester
line ( Dakota) Bill.
A ashington gCssip says the favor¬
ite di-ess of tlie Senator to-ilay frock is black
broadcloth, double-breasted coat,
high and standing Still, collar, business open at the neck,
boots. suits are fust
creeping in, and fully one-third of the
.Senators wear cubaway coaUk -
i
HE HA P IT DOW N FINE.
-Never saw a natural gas well?” in
quired a talkative passenger as the train
sped along m the darkness and through
* country;‘^you never saw & gas
well. 11 ^ You ought to see one, especially
one on fire. Beat# all the fireworks
ever these got up. wells, Something All funny about
gas too. of a sudden
they three 11 start up in a flame, flare two or
times awav up to the sky, and
then stop as quick as they started. That
is the effect of spontaneous combustion.
Guess 1 know more about the natural
gas well business than any other man
in the country. 1 ve studied ’em, sir,
for many months, and have ’em down
fine. Let me see. it s now 9:38 o'clock,
At 9:40 a spouter is due over in the. val
ley there, and if you 11 keep your eve
peeled in that direction mebbe you U
see it on tire. ’
At once all the passengers seated
themselves on the side of the car next to
the valley and looked intently for the
promised display. 1 he gas well expert
sat across the aisle, took out his pipe
and tilled it, as he remarked:
“I study these gas wells as astrono
mers tell study the heaven!)' bodies, and I
can to a minute when they’re going
to burst, Look out now—she s a-com
i n £- ’
And sure enough, way down in the
valley, seemingly two or three miles
away, there was a burst of flame, quick
ly then followed all was by darkness two or three again. more, and
-Wonderful, wonderful!” exclaimed
one of the astonished passengers; “the
grandest sight I ever saw,’ echoed an
other^ chimed “marvelous, in third. simply marvelous,”
a
“Oh. that s nothing,” said the expert,
“wait till you see one of these wells that
take tire and flare out in two or three
directions, as if the flames wanted to
lick a clean spotoff the faceof theearth.
They Lemme re worth looking at, l tell you.
see, where’s my note book? Oh,
here it is. Only 10 o clock—say, friends,
if you'll wait eleven minutes you'll see
a horizontal flarer a little further up the
road. She’s due at 10:16 o'clock. 1 figur
ed her all out to-day.”
Of course the passengers were willing
to wait, and they began to look down
into the dark valley, anxious to see the
great flarer. Soon a word of warning
from across the aisle caused every eyeta
open wide with expectation, and ex
pressions dozen of amazement came from a
shoot lips as two dozen eyes beheld a
of flame which sprang up out of
darkness, and darted this way and that
three •d with or four blink. times, aud then disappear
a
“Didn’t I tell you I had it down tine?”
exclaimed the man with the pipe. “They
can't any of ’em get away with me on
the gas well business. I’ve studied ’em
through I and through. But, say, friends,
get ott'at the next station. I’m a poor
man, and niy family at home is hungry.
Can’t The you hat do something passed for me?”
was around and filled
full of quarters, half-dollars, cigars, and
whisky the bottles, dumped more or less empty, and
whole into the lap of the
grateful “Thanks, expert. gentlemen, thanks,”
said
he; “just tell your folks at home that
you’ve in the seen oil the great horizontal flarer
Cooper, up regions, and that Bill 1
the great astronomer and geolo¬
gist of the Good gas weil night.” country, showed it'
to you.
After his departure the passengers be¬
gan telling of and the great mystery they
nad seen, to wonder how Bill
Cooper could so correctly calculate the
appearance of the flames of fire.
“I’ll show you how it's dona,” said a
drummer who had been seated in tho
rear part of the car, and who had not as
yet taken any interest in the proceed¬
ings. “I’ll show you how the trick is
done. Has anybody got a match?”
A match was produced. The drum¬
mer seated himself on the opposite side
of the car, took out a pocket-mirror,
held-it the up against look the window, and told
passengers to out into the val¬
ley if they wanted to see another flarer.
The match was struck and held before
the mirror, and lo and behold, there
the was beholders. another flaming gas well in view of
“To make a horizontal flarer,” said
the drummer, striking another match,
“all I have to do is to blow gently on
the flame of the match aud tnere you
have it. I travel over this road every
week and have seen Bill Cooper before.
No. there’s no use asking the conductor
to back the train up to the last station.
He won’t do it, and if he did you
wouldn’t catch Bill. He’s down in the
valley suckers.”— by this Wellman, time fishing in Chicago for more Her
aid.
Horse and Cow Stories.
following. A gentleman (a) Mich
m St.
aels recently swunjr which a hammock in his
back-yard, duty in from Ins he solaced regular himself
when oft employ
ment. His neighbors said he was so
fond of his hammock that he could
spend his Sundays lu had it, instead of at
tending church, as been his wont
before he got the hammock. But bun
day morning recently a surprise await
ed him. He allowed h» horse to graze
in the back yard, breakfast and, the day iu ques
tion, when after l.e prepared
himself for a loll in the hammock, he
found his horse had gotten into it, and ;
was quietly hammock resting down therein. He had to •
cut the to get the horse j
out. ted A gentleman the Ledger from office the recently country that, re- ;
1 Kil in
us he came to town, he saw along the
road a cow up a cherry-tree, grazing on
the fruit and foliage. .Several cows were
ranging in a very barren pasture. The
cherry-tree was by the side of a high
ditch bank. Oiie of the cows had
climbed from the ditch bant into the
cherry-tree, and when the narrator saw
her she was half hidden among the
branches.”
A step toward abolishing the high
hat nuisance at the theatn has just
been taken by the management of a
Vienna play house, which srders that
all female palrouizers must either wear
low head-gear or forego the pleasure
of attendance at the perfornaiije*,
A HA PPY H OME.
If, then, knowledge be the beginning
of power should not woman lay hold of
every means ol increasing her strength
by adding to her knowledge? Many
practical lessons may be learned from
those who nave succeeded, and there are
snnie even in this day. But knowl*
edge alone ran not constitute entire
capability. As in all professions and
vocations of men, it must be seconded
w the housewife by such other qualifi
cations of mind and character as will
render her service desirable and pleas
ant. In a home composed necessarily
of different characters, the ruling spirit.
the piesiding genius, is the mistress: te
ner touch alone will vibrate the sweet
chords of sympathy and common in
terest. there may be the elements of
harmony hand in a household, but a skilled
alone, can blend them in unison.
Just as a musical instrument, in perfect
tune, gives forth no sound in concord
ini touched by a master hand: if the in
strument is ill-tuned the same skill may
leave untouched the discordant notes,
drawing iu out the sweet sounds alone,
every relation of life there must be
a desire to assimilate the good without
good antagonizing in all, the evil. There is some
which the magic hand of
charity with judgment, can grasp and
assimilate. And so when knowledge is
charity acquired let it be tempered with that
and forbearance, which a mis
tress would desire, if she could exchange
places with her domestics. Let them
Qot abuse the power they may have, be
caue others, less fortunate are forced to
labor for support. Tyrants are made
' n the use, but in the abuse of
power. Let the burden of servitude be
as and for bearance as possible, witholdinjr leDiency
institution of home only demands when justice to the
Rigorous sometimes discipline,
measures are neces
sa C to maintain the dignity of all gov
ernments: a want of it properly exer
cised, will inspire an opposing party
with a suspicion of weakness or timidity
the administration; greater aggres
sions will ensue until one or the other
Let must the yield. Now which shall it be?
stronger party decide. In house
boiJ government, also, there must be a
limlt 10 forbearance, which the mistress
roust determine with judgment, discre
*i° n an< f firmness. The acquirement,
then, of these latter qualifications, comes
.properly them within charity womans duty. With
| ou edge t be of no avail. would Unjust err, and judgment, knowl
showing would induce a bias in one s own favor
distrust, showing a spirit of suspicion and
unmerited favor to
the servant, would embolden to further
demands. An impartial judgment, in
matters of difference, inspires conti
dence and induces a ready acquiescence
! n a11 decisions. A feeliug of security
* 9 a * so obtained, which fosters the
growth d attachment and development of home love
HQ which are distinctive
with every human being, of high or low
degree. security This valuable home attachment and
are aids in securing
eifieient and kindly service; but they
are alone. not developed Who by means of money
purchase can buy house a home? furnished, Monev
may a well
luxurious, but its walls do not eucoui
pass a home without sympathy, justice,
and community of interest among its
inmates. Food, clothing and comforts
do not provide a home for the humble
servant, any more than for the high
born mistress. It is true a servant must
be paid they wages, be and justice demands
that given ungrudgingly as well
labor. as promptly; for then they give"value in
Let homes be founded upon the broad
principles each inmate of justice and charity and
will lend a helping hand
and perform a needful part. An archi¬
tect does not refuse the services of the
humblest laborer, in executing a grand
design; the skill he unites the strength of one
with of another, blending their
powers and using their wills until he
completes a structure, beautiful and har¬
monious. Thus the co-operation of all
should be sought, aud their services
blended in sympathy and love, for the
election of that masterpiece of human
architecture, “A Happy Home.”— Mr*.
E. J. Gurley, in Good Housekeeping.
Female Affectation*.
The affectations of women are quita
worth as pronounced noting that as those of men. It is
each sect deals more
harshly with the shortcomings of its
fellows than with the sins of people of
an opposite which gender. New Of all the affecta¬
tion from York women have
suffered none has been so pronounced
girl as Anglomania. to-day had rather The average New York
be considered En¬
glish than beautiful. Some of them are
very apt and clever at mimicking the
shouldered. daughters of direct, Great Britain. A square¬
and dashing girl
"Of course you imagine that men are
more intellectual than women and need
higher ° mental food. It is not true,
M u wanU his „ ir | a U mode, as he
does his trousers or his hat The proper
girl Diat is English is now. pushed I think bit sometimes and
exercise a too far,
quite a lot of girls are certainly growing
yellow, * bitt then they’re in the swim,
; u know, and a cold dip, a raw egg,
nd a hard canter through the park are
fascinations hard to resist when one has
(a j len into their po Wer .'>
athletic girl certainly carries
everything have before had ner. Dress-reform deal ad
vocates a great to do
w j t h making her what she is. In some
inspects she meets their ideal, wearing
gq U are. sturdy, and low-heeled boots,
looise corsets, and short hair. Tho doo
tors are reading her elaborate lecture*
aIU { her mother throws up her hands in
dismay.
--—
A young Creole named Ullin has
j l, sf returned to Now Orleans after a
series of remarkable adventures, ex
tending over a period of twenty years,
broken iu health, but not in spirits.
During his absence he was a lieutenant
in me navy, inventor of a machine for
which ho got $60,u0Q in i’aris, a gam¬
bler who spent that money in a year,
a solicitor in the French army in Mex¬
ico, a builder of dredges for the Suez
Canal, and now an agent for De Les
seps in Panama Few men have •X*
period, equal vicissitude*,
FOOD IV ITS RELATION TO
H EALTH .
The first meal of the dav, or break
fast, is in this country—with those in
health, at all events—a fairly substan
tial one. although some people trv—but,
thank goodness, trv in vain--to assim
ilate French and English customs in re
gard to breakfast. France and its folks
are different from England, with its
solid men and women; its climate is
different from ours; its notions as re
gards ingrafted eating and English drinkin<z can never
be on ° bone and
muscle.
Yes, breakfast ought to be a hearty
one. eaten early in the morning, and
eaten sibility slowly, so as to preclude the pos
would" materially of eating too heavily, which
interfere with the busi
ness A of the day.'
man or woman who is no break
fast-eater must either be a heavv—over
of heavy—supper-eater health. or be in a bad state
A person who requires the
stimulus of a cup of tea, or anv other
stimulus or stimulant whatever, before
partaking day of of solid food is not in the hev
health. I like to see a man have
his breakfast first, and then feel around
for his cup of coffee, tea, or chocolate,
I have knowu the strongest and health
iest of men positively forget all about
the liquid part of their breakfast, and
leave the table without it. I have
knowu men who scarcely ever touched
a drop of liquid another^ of anv kind from one
week's end to and who, never
theless. were in ruddy and robust
health. "
What a person eats for breakfast
often gives me a clew to the state of his
health. One example: if. while sojourn
ing at a hotel. I see a man come down
te breakfast between lu and 11 , and sit
down to deviled kidneys with plenty of
sauce—piquant—and perhaps one pov.r
puny egg to follow, 1 would be willino
to aver that he carries a white tongue
and that his liver sadly needs seeing to.
Ham and bacon anti eggs, or a
beefsteak or underdone chop, with boiled
eggs to follow, and then a cup of nice
tea. is a sensible breakfast for a man
who is going awav out into the fresh air
to walk, or ride, or work till noon, but
not for a person who has to sit all day
in the same position at manual labor,
1 emphasize the word manual, because
intellectual or mental work conduces to
appetite. An author hard at his desk,
if his ideas be flowing freely, if he be
at his work and time flying swift
]y with him, -oon gets hungry, which
only body proves that we must support the
well when there is a strain upou
the mind, so that no extra expenditure
of tissue may lead to debility,
Cheerful conversation insures the easy
digestion pity of a good breakfast. It is a
that in this country the custom of
mvitiug friends to the matutinal meal is
not more tliiug prevalent. It may seem a
strange to say, but I would ten
times sooner go out to breakfast than to
dinner. One is, or ought to be. freshest
in the morning: he then needs no arti
ficial stimulus to make him feel bright,
wittv. happv, as he too often does after
the duties of tbe day are over,
Tlie midday meal or luncheon ro those
who dine in the evening, aue have
work to do in the afternoon, should he
do a light one. I am not quite suiv that I
not approve of the city “snack.” It
nuts one past, it sustains nature, it
leaves the mind free to think and to do
its duty, and, above all, it enables the
stomach to have a rest before the prin¬
cipal meal of tlie day.
Now. about this meal: I have to say
that, if partaken of alone by one’s seif,
it onght to be an abstemious one. Even
in company it need not be a heavy one.
No matter how many courses there are,
there is not the slightest necessity of
making But too free with them.
it is a fact which everyone must
have felt, that even a moderately heavy
meal is quickly aud easily digested if
accompanied intellectual with and followed by
witty or and suggestive con
versation.
“I’m a dyspeptic; I must not dine
out,” have heard a gentleman more
than once remark.
Weil, my impression is that it does
dys;ie|itic» a great deal of good to dine
out, if they can eat in moderation and
judiciously, in the aid of never artificial being stimulus tempted to enable to call
them to do as men of more robust phy¬
sique Doctor, are doing around them .—Family
in Cassell's Family Magazine.
A Good Fisb Story.
The member for West Algorna tells a
from good forty story about a species pounds of sturgeon,
which to sixty in weight, and
is peculiar to Rainy river
lake. On a visit wlii-h he paid last
summer to a settlement on tne river he
had occasion' to visit a young bachelor,
who, with true backwoods hospitality,
insisted that he should stay for dinner.
Mr. Conmee then seated" himself and
watched the preparations of his enter¬
tainer. First he set down his home¬
made bread on the table, with tin mugs
for the tea, and then he put a big pot
full of water over the tire. When the
water came to the boiling point he in¬
fused the tea and set it aside. Then he
seized a gafl' about six feet long, stepped
outside down to the river's edge, which
was not over ten paces distant, and re¬
turned in three minutes with a sturgeon
kicking on the end of his gall', part of
which was soon cut off and transferred
to the pot of boiling water to be cooked
for dinner. This is the usual thiug up
there. They ulways have the water
boiling before they go to catch the fish,
and Uiey use only a common gaff.—
Toronto (Out.) World.
An ota resfaent In an" English settle¬
ment near the New Y’ork State line car¬
ries in his pocket constantly an immense
tooth he from a human jaw". The tooth,
says, was taken from tho mouth of a
man after he was dead, who was hangeu
in Hertfordshire more than 100 yea*
ago, aud was. carried by the preset.,
owner's father, grandfather, and great
grandfather. of toothache, It the is carried tooth from as a the prevent d«wd
ive
person’s mouth being a certain eha.m
against the tooth that malady. he The had the owner tooth¬ of
ache in his' says life. never double
A hazelnut
carried in the pocket or about the per¬
son is also a preventive of this painful
NUMBER 32
ah Indignant Ewnah-... I B M
Clever Tom Whiffen tells me this aa
ecdote: Before the days of rapid tran
sit on the Atlantic, English actors wens
few and far betweeii in this country,
In those days an Englishman in Ameri
ca was of more them or less of a curiosity—as In
many are even now. a com
pany which was doing Shakspeare at
one of the Boston theaters was an En
glish actor named Coleman. He wu
an actor of the old school, and quite aa
tragic off the stage as on. His fellow
plavers chaffed him in the dressinow
rooms on account of his beino- an En¬
glisbman, and particularly on a difife
cnlty This he had in the use of the aspirate,
had been done so much that the
Englishman was roused to furiousness it
any one dared to imitate his cockney
misuse of the eighth letter of our alpha
bet. One morning he came down to
breakfast at the Trempnt house in a
not had very pleasant frame of mind. Ha
been chaffed pretty hard the even
ing slept before, well. and in addition had no*
The waiter—a darky of the
darkest lu* 3 —laid the bill of fare befora
him and awaited his order,
“ ’Ave vou hanv fresh heecrg this
morning?’* “Yes, asked Coleman,
sah,” auswered the davkv;
“ ’ow’ll you ’ave ’em cooked, sah?
Boiled, scrambled, fried, komelet: hany
way you like, sah.”
Coleman turned qnieklv. gave tha
waiter a sharp look, frowned, and then
as indicated though his his preference ears had in deceived the him,
way of
“heg«s.” ■
"Hauy thing else, sah?” .asked tha
waiter. “Cawn beef ’ash is verv nice,
sail, dis mawnin’. Bit of fish, sah?
’Alibut steak, sah, finnan "addies, fresh
cod ” Coleman’s face had turned
purple. He jumped to his feet, caught
the waiter bv the collar, and held him
at arm’s length.
“What do you mean, sirrah?” he
roared, “by himitating a gentleman’s
sucech. 1 ave a mind to throttK. you,
you “Hi himpertinent scoundrel!”
ly can’t begs ’elp yer pardon, sah. but hi real
it sah. Hi’ui an Emriish
man mvself, sah.”
“You lie. you villian,” bellowed Cole
man. “You've been paid for this!" By
this time some of the other guests had
intervened, and the darkv, pale with
fear, was released from the actor’s
clutches. The head waiter vouched for
the fact that the darky was an English
man, born at Putney, and Coleman, re¬
stored to his equilibrium, settled down
to his breakfast again, but with a
change of waiters .—Buffalo Express.
How Phtlp Charged It Up.
When I think of the many funny
things Kenward Piiilp did, I find it diffi¬
cult to realize that he was born in En¬
gland. I am certain that if you hadi
scratched him deep enough you would
have found a strain of Celtic blood, for
no thorough what did Englishman could do and.
say lie and said. One of tho
most famous stories told concerning
him bears relation to a haugiug; no one
but he could get a laugh out of such a
ghastly subject. lie was once sent to
from report New a hanging York. in a town far distant)
He was absent sever¬
al days, and, as is often the case, found
himself, when making up his bill of ex¬
penses. unable to remember every detail
of the expenditure of the money which,
he had legitimately spent. Consequents)
ly he charged up a lump sum. which)
was by no means excessive. The busi-j
ness the manager objected to its payment)
on itemized ground that he should be given)
an account of every penny.
Philp found he could not do this, but ha
determined not to lose any of the money
which he bad expended on behalf of tha
newspaper. So he made out his bill
anew, and after charging for his hotel
bill, railroad fare, and other regulation
expenses, he added a few items in order
to make up the sum charged in the first!
place.
To appreciate the humor of his revis¬
ed account you must understand that at
a hanging propitiate in a country town, in order
to the sheriff and obtain en¬
trance to the jail and other favors, it is
necessary, him with kindnesses as a general rule, liquors. to smother,
and It al¬
so frequently talk happens that in order to
get a with or a confession from the!
murderer, enterprising newspaper men 1
lavishly books bestow cigars, tobacco and
upon him. Philp’s addition to his
bill were as follows:
To one whisky cocktail for the unfortunate
To wretch........................... % U.
one ditto ditto for the sheriff....... 15
To one ditto for self................... J?
To one red necktie for miserable felon %
To one ditto ditto for sheriff............
To one ditto ditto for self................... ‘ii
To one copy of Dr. Watt’s hymns for the
condemned mau.......... s. ............. S'
To one ditto ditto for sheriff.
To one ditto ditto for self................... — 50
To one whisk-broom for doomed criminal.. 40
To one ditto ditto for sheriff................ 40i
To one ditto ditto for self.......... 40
After the sad event:
To one whisky cocktail for sheriff -.. 15 )
To one ditto ditto for self......... &
None for the lamented deceased..
ed Philp make was never afterward itemized askod ask¬
to out an bill of ex¬
penses. — N. Y. Mail and Express.
Talking Business in His Sleep.
“The cook-stove at our house,” said
Maj. Fenwick, “has been acting up ever
since the freeze, and I was ordered to go
to mixed George wood de Cottes’ and have and a load of
Well, know split the tine sent up.
tlie lodge you meeting? That night we attended
was the day.
1 forgot all about it, and when I came
home to supper the madam asked me,
about the chips aud splinters, and I
owned up that business drove it out of
my head, but as I would sec De Cottes
that it night would would be give him the order
and sent up in the morning.
You know we were detained at tho
breakfast lodge to a the late hour. Next morning at
madam told me it was
wood’ •hardly worth while worrying over the
in my sleep, and begged me not
I •to said; be troubled ‘why, about it.’ I ‘Inmy sleep?’
what did say in my
last sleep?’ ‘More than once in your cried dreams
“Here, night,’ give said another she, ‘you dollar’s worth out,
me
of chips.” ’ Florida Times-Cnion.
The Welland Caual is to bo dre
to a uniform depth of 14 foot. The
work wjU qosl