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THE LINCOLNTON NEWS
VOLUME VII. NUMBER 29.
Minnesota inclines to look with dis¬
favor on the Prohibition movement.
There is a noticeable increase of
hostility to foreigners throughout China.
A bill “to regulate the sale of horse¬
flesh for human food” is before the Eng¬
lish Parliament.
> Indiana is the second State in the
Union to enact a ballot reform law based
on the Australian system.
English army authorities are consider¬
ing a project for enlisting young boys
tnd letting them grow up into soldiers.
Robert Louis Stevenson, the novelist,
lays that he finds the South Sea Islanders
too amiable and polite to afford him
latisfactory models.
It is interesting to think, remarks the
Scientific American, that in her pine
lorests the South has ever growing the
fiber for her cotton bales.
Russia has demanded of Persia the
exclusive right to navigate rivers flow¬
ing into the Caspian Sea and to build
railways throughout the country.
Sinc^V^ last Postmaster-General al
lowed two of ( his clerks to get married
and retain their positions in the office,
the number of married couples in the
departments at Washington is increas¬
ing rapidly.
Four full-blooded Indians have been
admitted to practice medicine. Ah,
those wily redskins! They know what
course to take when the use of toma¬
hawk and scalping-knife are prohibited,
exclaims the New York Herald.
Y'oung Edward Clark, a New York
toper, kept his pledge when he swore
off. “I will never drink while I live,”
he said, and his old mother turned away
with a prayer of thankfulness on her
lips. Then the young man leaped
through the windoA* and fell dead on
the pavement below. He had kept his
promise.
Says the Rochester (N. Y r .) Herald.
“When the chief official of sixty millions
of people passes directly from the Ex¬
ecutive Mansion to a private law office,
and begins to work for his living again
within two days f-rom the time of his
surrendering his immense power, the
dignity of labor in this country receives
a striking illustration.”
There is likely to be an expansion of
ship building all over the world, pre¬
dicts Goodall’s Sun. It is found to be
due to the increased purchasing power
of all European and American nations.
People all over the world are earning
more money and want more shop pro¬
ducts, hence ship3 are needed to carry
goods to them and raw material back to
be manufactured.
In Germany, with a mortality in its
army the lowest in Europe, the death
rate of the civil population is 6 , in Italy
8 and in Austria 11 per 1000 higher
than in England, which means in Ger¬
many a sacrifice of 135,000 lives yearly
more than with the British, and in the
two last countries of G24,000 lives an¬
nually over and above the corresponding
loss of life in England and AY ales.
Five names and one husband seems a
little incongruous, yet such has been
the portion of one Englishwoman. She
was born Miss Pennant, became the
Honorable Miss Pennant when her father
was ennobled Lord Penrhyn, and Lady
James Hogg by marriage with Sir James
Hogg. After that a fortune brought
her the title of Lady McGarel-Hogg, and
finally she was elevated to the peerage
as Lady Magherainorne.
The death rate in Eng land for 18SS
statistics of which have recently been
published, shows the remarkable fact
that it was the lowest average since 1837,
when the Government first undertook
the keeping of accurate records. In 1S87
the ratio of deaths was 18.8 to the thou¬
sand, and this was the lowest known till
that time. But for 1S88 a still better
showing is made, the ratio being but
17.8 to the 1000 . AVhat this decrease in
the death rate means can be better under¬
stood from the fact that more than half
a million persons were alive in England
and Wales at the end of 188S whose
deaths would have been recorded dur¬
ing the eight years 1831-8S had the rate
of mortality in those years equaled that
which prevailed during the ten years
1871-80.
Edward Atkinson, in a recent article
on “Slow Burning Construction,” shows
that the worst and most dangerous
example of architecture are our prisons,
asylums, hospitals, school buildings,
colleges, and after these, churches, hotels,
theatres. These statistics are astound
. ... 1fla - ____, burned . .
1 S' . e in
the United . States forty-five hospitals,
asylums, almshouses or jails, in many
cases with great loss of life. There were
also ,______j burned • n ,l„ y c.l ,, ege
.
buildings and libraries, 146 churches,
fifty-two theatres and opera houses, and
515 hotels—or one and four-tenths per
j day. qn,.> inat ti,;. tms lisk ot piopertj ana lit. l .e
is unnecessary he shows from the pro
gress made in New England in the way
of building non-combustible or slow
burning factories and warehouses
DEVOTED TO THE INTEREST OF* LINCOLN COUNTY.
IN THE RAIN.
I stand in the old gray weather,
In the white and silvery rain;
The great trees huddle together
And sway with the windy strain.
I dream of the purple glory
Of the roseate mountain height,
And the sweet-to-remember story
Of a distant and dear delight.
The rain keeps constantly raining
And the sky is cold and gray.
And the wind in the trees keeps complaining
That summer has passed away;
But the gray and the cold are haunted
By a beauty akin to pain—
By the sense of a something wanted
That never will come again.
— William Wetmore Story.
FARMER JOHN.
BY MILLARD GREELEY.
Old uta John John Sanbonm banbourn— Farmer John Tnl.n”
is neighbors ca,led him—was a very
nergetic and sue essful farmer iu the
great wooded beit of Central Wisconsin.
^“ aV V mb ? r near hutl "
dred acres had n meited before his brawny
his hpa^l^ y a 0 ie - 3 ^ 8 ^ 84 acc * °mp ,lme a “ led ^ " n K * ,m ot
from buildi’n^’nad’men’slowl,” it - - by’the .
farm
th^ one cow and unbroken * steers* ‘ first first
found pasture.
difco™aoements h umlMn y pToneeMife**
tp ’ S acquired a com pe
bor *“ honorab «
and none could den v
but somehow ihn th - -
,h„ r ’ is V e f r3 P as '\ ed and
0 m P r0 ed ’
UP ^vs^SjaBssssp*, borafPplinZ toward Hm fdilt „ „ th P r art h,S ^ elgh ’
“close” Some alm^htv of th™P,!n!u li™ he^
selfish“The dollaris a
renS -Ul
after,” was the often »mrt n
uncharitable ne ghbors who S
and industrious than iar«i’S, b
work to feed their bu?lrlina,
less accumulate stock »nd
machinerv as Farmer lohn had done
The fact tlTe was when Tnhn w^
came into new counriv t’mes
extremely hard, and it required strict
economy Uni to make the few dollars he had
for ugh t with him from the East provide
his wants until he raised the first
crop. A poor harvest and a still poorer
maiket the second year caused Farmer
John to pinch almost to the verge of
nakedness and starvation. A habit of
closeness was thus formed which time
did not diminish, and which «rew in
the eye3 of his neighbors into a fault of
the most exaggerated dimensions
One little grave had been made dur
ing these troubled years, presently and anoiher
trouble which we shall mention
had contributed to leave the old man as
we find him—overworked ’ morose and
selfish. ’
On this particular morning he an
peared rather more surly and glooinv
than usual. It was just as the spring’s
work was beginning and the never end
ing round of toil was swelling usual” into even
greater proportions than would,'there On every
hand, look where he was
something there to be done and to his business
eye was no more chance of a rest
ing before. spell than there hud been thirty years
-
something “Someihing must be wrong, yes,
must be wrong,” he repeated
to lane himself, leading as he walked on up the wide
to the old barn.
Something was wrong. Like a good
many men who are anxious to do well
and have little to do with, F’armer John
had saved and worked till he thought of
nothing tious he but saving and working. Ambi
as was, he dreaded to see any of
the boys stort out in life unless he started
well, the-thought and above all he could not bear
of one of them marrying
into a family not well supplied with
money or land. So when the oldest
boy, Will, had reached his
second year, and began to call occasion
ally on the Widow Baldwin’s bright
little Helen, it surprised no one to hear
that his father had told him to stop
going there, or to leave the farm.
Will was deeply attached to the old
place, day and had worked faithfuilv evetv
brush. since he was big enough ’to pile
So one morning, when the old
man found the breakfast a little late,
and Will’s mother trying to hide the
tears when she called him, he was not
prepared to hear that he had gone—gone
no one knew where.
Although badly in his heart the father felt
as as any one, he was still in¬
exorable, and declared that no boy of his
should marry a beggar; no, if he Dever
saw him again. So Will went away,and
the autumn and winter came and went,
and the spring's work was upon them,
with all the extra labor Will’s absence
entailed.
Thus things stood when we find the
old man talking to him elf along the
path to the great red barn. The boys
had gone over to the hill pasture to repair
the wall before turning iu the stock,
which, impatient to go, was still fed at
the barn.
Farmer John had come up in the
middle of tho forenoon to look after
things, and carry back a jug of fresh
water, and while there he stopped at the
barn to feed out a little before going to
the house. He had thrown some stalks
over to the sheep and cows, shoved a
bright bit of hay to the new bossy, and
now, after giving old Kit all the oats
she needed, found himself with a large
torkful left.
Just wliat todo with it did not seem
to come to him at once. So, mechanically
leaning down his fork against the pile, he sat
upon it. Y'es, sat down to think,
and the wav he did it, and that he did it
at all, showed he began thinking before
he sat down.
That Farmer John should stop work,
and above all in the middle of a bright
forenoon, was someting quite out of his
seldom usual way did of think proceeding." and Farmer what think- John
much,
>ug he did was generally done upon his
fc® ing 1 : found but whether him in this particular troubled morn
a more state
than common or the great pile ot soft
bis hay proved too much of a temptation for
tired legs, here we find him.
“Well, well,” he exclaimed, as he re
moved the worn straw hat and rested the
sun-burned arms on his knees, “there’s
no stand use of talking! this. It’s I’ve had ’bout all I can
smc rolled the nigh old onto thirty years
u£ed ? to !tnnd bore, up and sakes log stable alive! that
we
LINCOLNTON, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, MAY 24, 18S9.
thought then I couldn’t stand much
more.’’
Here he paused, and while the cool
breeze through the great doors fanned
the wrinkled face, his mind seemed away
back—back “nigh onto thirty continued years.”
‘ Poor Mary!” and as he a
tender light came into the hard gray
eyes. -“I can see her now as she stood
that night after they were all gone. How
goodshewas! how hopefully she talked!
‘You’ll soon have the roof on John,’ she
said, ‘and then you can take it easier,
Shan’t we be glad when ’tie all over
with;’ Yes, yes, we thought then that
sometime ’twould be all over with; but
that time seems never to come, never to
come!”
The sunlight on the floor moved farthet
along. Little Bright had lain down for
his mid-day nap, and still the gray head
was bowed, and no fresh water found its
way back over the hill to the boys.
Thus an hour passed. Then old Kit,
who had stopped chewing and with
drowsy eyes was livin" over colthood
davs, - was suddenly brought back to the
F t b v the old manhurriedlvgetting °
0 j,:- r e 4,
“Beats ^nL aLt all’ beats all what Tears T’ve been
thiQ “°We’ve all these >” he burst
out had enough an’ter sDare
las t fifteen of’emaudherelam
working’em a'l to deatli ’n'mvself too
for—well for nobody knows Haq-i what
“I atop it, yes, 1 declare I «UH
8ee ’f I don’t—half a dozen of ’em. Wil
sou can have that forty ef he wants it,
Widde!- 7 Baldwin’s ^n’ ^teU^nfTm
Here went^3“P* he stopped a “psHaintfit moment for breath
then do*wa J the
thmo-tergo 5 pokin’ b4n there ’thout
bein’ asked after all’s They’can" said but
then Pll go I will
MAbBwteW H«“.h.”d™rf»pirf»,„,,b,
door . and casting a side glance at the
SUD > at onceset outf °r the kiteheu door,
“No mistake,” he repeated as he
walked along. “I was a little too hard
on the boy. Will worked hard and was
good to me, always was. I took a poor
ghl when I started, an’ I’ve never seen a
riCil one I’d trade her for,” and on he
went kitchen/ U P tke c ° o1 back ste P * 3 into the
“Mary.”
“ Yes ’ J olla !”came from the cellar
way ’ wllenee Mrs - Sanbourne was bring
in S a * ar £ e P an potatoes, a half-dozen
' iura ‘P s and a cabbage.
“What did you want, John?” she
asked > placing the future dinner on the
tab * e > and resting her hauus on the sides
°* tke P au -
“Oh, nothin’. Only wanted to know
wilere J e was , kinder, ” and then, seeing
worn look on the once handsome
face > added:
“Ain’t yer pretty tired, Mary?”
“Well, no, not more than usual, but
sotftekow da ” > John, I’m always tired now-a
y a>
“Well, Mary, ye look tired, that’s
sftrtin l but I—” Here the old man
fouud !t hard to proceed, for visions of
tk e Mary in the past and the Mary now,
of tbe little Will and the Wiilof to-day,
carae t0 ° v ‘vidly before his troubled
ga e ‘
Mrs. Fanbourn, noticing th’s, hastened
to ask if anything was wrono
“Oh no, dono’l there is. Thought I I’d
stop in an’ rest a bit. Somehow don’t
seem ter stand as much this spring’s
common. But as I’s goin’ ter say, Pm
-I’in goin’ter turn over a new leaf,
Mary, an’-an’ Will-Will didn’t do so
very bad, after all. You know I-I”
Here the old man choked up again,
and seeing the great tears starting to
Mary’s dipper, faded eyes, caught up
and saying something about a
co °l drink at the spring, hurried out.
When he got to the spring, he didn't
drink at all, but leaving the dipper on
the stones, pas-ed out of the big gate
into the road. Here he stopped, looked
U P and dowu the way, went on a little,
then stopped again.
“Wonder ’f I'd better? Can't hear
from Will ’f don’t that’s sartin.” Then
after a moment’s pause, “Yes, I’llgo—go
now! If it’s put off ’twon’t be done,
that’s all. I can tell ’em jist how ’tls.
Mother s dyln’ ter see Will, an’—well,
yes, an’ I am, too, for that matter. I'll
toll 'em ’twas I made the rumpuss.
They’ll know where Will is, an’ I’ll
know, too,’fore this road sees my boots
agin, see’f I don’t!”
With this he gave the old hat a vigor
oils ja n to gain "strides courage, a j and ___________ started off __
with long toward the clump of
maples that ' ...... hid the widow’s ’ cottage.
“Good mornin,’ AYilson!” he called to
a passing neighbor. “I'd like ter speak
to ye jist a moment.”
AYith a puzzled look the driver stopped
and gazed earnestly at the old man.
“Well, AVilson, how ’bout that forty
acres—want it yet?”
“Want it? I supposed vou knew I
wanted it badly enough. But what’s tbe
use. I can’t pay all down, and you can,
so of course you’ll get it."
“Well, I do’know’bout _______, that, AYilson.
It It would would square square out out ycur ycur sixty, sixty, and and
make make ye ye an an even even hundred. hundred. Ye Ye ou^hter oughter go“
have have it, it, an’ an’ can can for for all all me. me. I’ve I’ve got two two
hundred hundred now—an’ now—an’ it’s it’s goin’ goin’ter ter kill kill me me
an’ an’all all tbe the rest rest of of ’em ’em ler ter run run that. that. An’ An’
’bout the money—ef ye ain got nuff why
I have, an’jist’s soon let ye have two or
three hundred for a yearorsoWs not. I’m
somethin’ of a huray, Wilson, but mind,
I mean what I say. Good-mornin’.”
ished “Sood-morning,” Wilson, repeated the aston
as with open mouth he
looked after the retreating figure of the
farmer.
“What under the sun’s got into him—
can it really be the old man?” he thought
to himself. Yes, there was no mistaking
those home made suspenders—both fast
ened to one overworked button.
Though Neighbor Wilson was com
pletely head thunderstruck, rouud and rode with his
twisted looking after the
object of his astonishment till he was
nearly thrown from his wagon by a bad
stump, he was still the happiest man in
all the Badger State. Then he turned and
drove furiously back home to astonish his
family with the glad news.
Ail this time the cause of his past
misery and present happiness was making
time toward the dreaded inter
view. He had not intended to stop again,
a cheery “Good-morning. Mr. San
bourn,” from the yard of a poor renter
near the maples, broke the current of
his thoughts just as he was preparing
himself to meet the worst. a
“That you, Martha? Well, good
mornin’. I’m in a hurry, but glad ye
spoke a’ter all, flow'd ye Uke goin’
an’helpin’Mrs. Sanbourn for a couple
weeks or snch mother a matter, p’ra'ps longer?
That is if jer can spare ye. I’ll
do what’s right by ye—two dollars a
week—if that’ll do. It’s’most too much
for Mary to feed an’ run <u alL Go right
up an’help her get dinner, ef yer can,
’n’ I’ll pay ye from this mornin’.”
The girl was as much astonished as
neighbor Wilson had been. She had
helped time” and them once only before dollar in for “threshing week’s
hard got Compared a with this, a the
work.
present offer was dazzling. rods So before
her employer was many away she
was off, with alight heart, to help at the
great white house.
Naturallv a bashful man, Farmer John
?? he opened the gate almost wished
“ imself *<; * ork a R a, “ in the Pf tur ®
But his mind was made up, and brush
mg the hayseed from hi# overalls, he re
adjusted the old hat, rolled down his
* e ®7 es and s * arted ,D *
The neat appearance of , the . walk and ,
ot “ er evidences of thrift which abounded
were not lost on the visitor. He knocked
on the door and Mrs. Baldwin met him
with a puzzled look on her face, but
gave him a kindly entered* “good-morning,”
and when he Helen herself
offered him the 2nd great arm-chair.
The pale face troubled eyes of the
g‘ ri were kind enough, of pity but something
in them sent a pang into the old
K>Henlllg heart Be ted
=54.^ss. *>. during the day he had thought
ut
there might be something else, and now
"Pretty fair weather for the time o’
of the old dock s eemed to gain in
™lume at every swing.
He would not have Mid even this had
he known what the weather was, for a
strong spring dwaf shower had been gather
ing, a*,—*- an about to break on the cot
wnat to do or say next the old man did 3
not know.
When he came in they were about to
spread the table for dinner, demanded and after
some that delay country manners
they should proceed. Farmer John
watched them closely, hoping a third
plate the would not make its appearance on
snowy cloth. But it was placed
there, and when dinner was ready Mrs.
Baldwin with a pleasant smile asked him
to sit up and eat with them.
In vain the old man declared he was
not hungry—that he had just eaten a
very late breakfast—and that he hadn't
a kept very good appetite and’ anyway. The rain
self pouring John down, in spite of him
Farmer found himself seated at
table with Helen and her mother.
As soon as they were seated Mrs. Bald
win glanced quietly at her neighbor,
and then proceeded to ask a plain, old
fashioned blessing. Farmer John had
asked blessings—but that was before the
new barn was built—lor somehow dur
ing the hurry and worry of the time,
blessings dropped were often left out, and finally
altogether. To be sure they
were renewed the spring little Een’s
sleeping-place the was kitchen changed from the
-warm room off to the narrow
ted in the old orchard, but only for a
year or so, and now it was never done.
disturbed Perhaps by the this old mans omission-we conscience was
sa J as to that—but somewhere in his
crusty heart there was a lingering respect
f ° r those who dld not f mit li; that H ave
thema watm corner where warm corners
were exceedingly scarce. Nor can we
say whether it was this or the desire to
say something m the right place that
^ aU8ed h \ raat close of the blessing
to astonish his hostess with a very hearty
amen -
Of course Mrs. Baldwin and her daugh
ter were puzzled as to the object of the
old man’s visit. Mrs. Baldwin thought
possibly it was some matter of business,
but his evident embarassment about in
troducing Helen, who it was inexplicable.
Sanbourn except never in thought of
connection with
Will Sanbourn, feared his visit boded
no good for the absent boy.
But they had not long to wait.
“I do’know but I might jis’ ’s soon
tell ye what I come for first as last,
’Taint no pleasant job, I know, but I
felt ’s though I didn't do jist right
toward ye in the matter ’bout Will, an’ I
j want to tell ye that I’m ashamed uv ray
! self. I—I was too hasty altogether.”
This was not exactly what he had meant
to say, but it was all he could say, and
it had to do.
Mrs. Baldwin, greatly astonished,
i managed to say ashamed that there was nothing
for for him him to to be be ashamed of. of. They They always always
believed he did what he thought would
1 be for the best, and had no reason to
think he had done otherwise in this
matter. Helen was too much overcome
to speak, but when the old farmer ex
tended his hand and asked her to over
look the past and he would do better by
Will, the dark eyes filled and the girlish
form shook with emotion.
Farmer John had winked back a good
manv many tears tears in in his his dav. day, but but this this nrnveH proved a a
little more of that kind of work than
even he could manage, and one after
another the great tears rolled down his
face.
Mrs. Baldwin was about to make some
further remark, when a step on the front
stoop attracted their Sanbourn attention, and in a
moment more Will stood be
fore the astonished trio. Helen sprang
toward him first, but Farmer John was
a close second,and grasping him warmly
by the hand, extended a most hearty
welcome.
An hour later the sun broke through the
clouds, and shortly after puddles two men could
be seen dodging the along the
road leadingby one of the best farms in
Central Wisconsin. One of the men was
a little bowed, with one hand resting on
his back just where two other wide, knit sus
penders met. The a little taller,
upright and strongly built, was trying
to keep up with him. Which was the
happier of the two it would be hard to
tell.
It is just four years to-day hired since then,
and Will, with a strong man, is in
the same back field, mending the old
pasture wall. The othet boys are away
at school, and as we let are passing so near the
the old farm-house, us peep into
open door of the long front room,
The two elderly ladies by the window
we have seen before. And the restful
peace on the face of one of them tells
that the time when “’twill be all over
with” has really come,
A young woman with dark, earnest
#y*s is flitting back and forth to the
kitchen helping the girl with the
dinner, while «very step is takes lightly,
off and on furtive glances are cast to
the well-worn lounge in the corner.
don’t you see a clubby two-year-old, in
with a pair of gold-bowed spectacles grand
his dimpled fist, has fallenasleep on too?
pa’s arm, and grandpa is sleeping anything
We did not intend to say
about the baby’s name and will not. But
you can always tell when the thin locks
are pulled a little too hard, by the way
the old man says — “Johnny !’’— Youth's
Companion.
Train Robbing in . the nest.
In the good old time 1 , when a travelei
took a journey in a stage coach, he
carried pistols ready for immediate use, ;
and was on the lookout for high wavmen
all along the road. .
bo.her “ ut our withsma’! modern robbers do not care to |
matters. A stage is ;
safe enough, except down in Mexico, I
where it is a common thing for a few
dashing knights of the road to slop a
coach and strip the passengers, leaving
them to make their way to the next
town attired in a stray «>py of the New
York Herald. In this civilized country,
however, the Dick Turpins of the pre
sent day have their minds directed to
bigger rirings. They will be satisfied
with nothing smaller than a railway
passenger traffi.
The recent action of the Arizona
death legislature in imposing tebbtojt.. the penalty tht, ol
lo> tr.i. brought
*rrrrr , rsia w
New York Herald enumerates more than
twenty tram robberies within the past
a 1
occurred in Mississippi, Louisiana. Texas,
occurred in Texas. The robbers at
different times secured f60,000, $40,
000, $30,000, $35,000 and $15,000. More
than half a dozen train men have lost
their lives in these encounters.
In the majority of the cases mentioned
number were never captured. Generally It is tne
of robbers is small. rare
tor a gang to be composed of more than
men. They take a train by surprise
in an out of the way place, and gc
through When ’it in perhaps two minutes the bold
pistols fail to intimidate,
marauders dynamite cartridges. have more than The once produced ol
being prospect
blown up induces the bravest men
to surrender. — Times-Democrat.
•——r—■“ T Trick.
“ e Lssacy
The “legacy trick” is a rather finished
article in the swindling line just intro
duced into Paris by the elite of the pro
fession. The story of M. Cailac, a coal
merchant, illustrates the mode in which
it is carried out. says the Liverpool Mer
cury. M. Cailac received a telegram tc
this effect; “Comeat once. A legacy
has been left to you—Ploch, Notary, 1 ;
Rue d’Hauteville.” The happy receive!
of this message lost no time" in visiting
M. Ploch’s office. A short time after he
left his wife received a telegram from
him, and telling her to at once get
gether §100, which were required to pay
overjoyed preliminary expenses. this stroke Theg'ood woman, the
at of luck, got
money ready, and shortly afterward a
demure, white chokered gentleman, well
got up as a notary, called for the money,
for which, of course, he gave a receipt in
due form. A few minutes afterward the
husband, white with passion and savage
with disappointment returned to say the
^°\ e thm - waa a hoax ‘ ? nd ,hat M '
Pioch knew nothing , of the legacy , m
question. His state of mind was not im
proved when ne learned that a sham M
Ploch had called in the meantime and
extracted $100 from his wife. To add
to his confusion he found his room full
of neighbors, together whom Madam Cat.ac with had her
-ummonea to rejoice
over the unexpected windfall. i ne
Parisian police are bu-iiy searching lor
the lever little gentleman with the
“white . choker, but have not tet found
him.
_^_
Tomatoes ill England.
American readers, accustomed to see
tomatoes in some shape on the table
nearly every day of the year, will scarcely
appreciate how nearly that familiar
vegetable comes to being a rare delicacy
in England. Ten years ago it was an
exception the to find this delightful fruit on
tables of any but the wealthy; but
to-day they are to be found in most
houses during the season, their exten
sive cultivation having brought down
the price so as to make thtu come with
in the reach of a'l. The tomato, or love
apples as it was formerly called,
originally came from South America, but
it it was was not not until until the the climate climate of of tbe tbe United t nitefi
States was found to be eminently adapted
to their growth that they came into
general use, the taste for the same
spreading to Europe. It is, in addition
to its valuable hygienic qualities, one of
the most profitable fruits to cultivate,
and we know of one private gentlemau
who sends no less than one ton to
market daily in the early season, the
price paid pound,ail uound.ail for the same them them averaging twelve
cents cents Der per of of beinsr being grown crown
under grass. Few come to perfection in
the open air, ... owing to the short dura
tion of sunshine in England. Like the
olive, it was a long time before the
people became accustomed to the peculiar they
and delicate flavor, but each day
grow in popularity, so much so, indeed,
that Cape Town has been requisitioned
for a supply of the same when they are
out of season here .—London Tattler.
Withered Her Child’s Wrists.
Ever since the birth of her daughter
Nannie, who is now a girl of nine years,
Mrs. John imbued Evans, of with AVheeling, the idea AY. Ya.,
has been that
enemies were watching child. for an oppor¬
tunity to steal the
For eight years the woman has not al¬
lowed her daughter out she of her sight, and
for most of the time has kept a firm
•clasp on one of Naunie's wrists.
As a result, the girl’s wrists have not
developed with the rest of her body,
they are small and withered, being little
larger than a man’s thumb.
The girl has been kept away from play¬
mates of her own age, and her mother
keeps her for hours out on the river bank,
where the poor crazed woman watches
vainly for the return of her husband who
discouraged and driven to drink by his
wife’s condition, disappeared two years
ago. This of the of
is one strangest cases
monomania on record, and has attracted
much attention among local physicians.
—New York World.
and The 6000 Spanish marines. naval force is 3000 sailors
BUDGET OF FUN.
humorous sketches from
various sources.
1 Preference — A Beggar to Be
Pitied—The Athletic Craze—An
Assumed Name — A Way
Ont, Etc., Etc.
“Do yon believe that Dr. Holmes was
when he said ‘poverty is a cure for
dyspepsia?’” rather have the dys
“ft may be. I’d
pepsia ”_ Bazar
a Beggar to Be Pitied,
Scene—A the lonely spot on a dark night,
“Would gentleman be so kind as
to aig ' is t a poo,. man ? Beside this re
yo i Terj j have nothing in this wide
world .”—Boston Gazette.
The Athletic Craze,
Ah. ^ r ; ^ Mr. us ?l HighjUmper,thuis e > 4*. 4" ^ Mr...troDg
arm of th e O L C. L R. A. -N. A. T. H.
L-E. T.E. Club—Mr. Strongarm, this
L “ E. S. H.ghjumper, O. N. Club. of the >. New °. F York L
1.
Sun *
Au Assumed Name.
under Quillpen—“Is „ . your sister still writing
an assumed name, Penman?”
Penman—“Yes; Mrs. Smith, She
assumed Smith’s name about a year
tgo. n —Burlington Free Press.
Anglomaniac If hunt — foxes “That’s the way it
goes. we folks say we’re
cruel; if we hunt aniseed bags, folks
laugh exciting at us. indignation What can we ridicule?” hunt, with
out or
Small Boy-“Rats!” - New York
Ther End at the Beginning,
rich City Business Man—“At last I am
Friend-“What enough to retire from business.’' do;”
“I are you the going to that
I am going to buy old farm
ran away from and live on it.”—P/itla
ddpfaa Record.
The Barest,
“Dear Friend—“Be sure you come
next Tuesday—our day at home. In the
first place Strichoiini, the violinist, will
play; Mile. Scherzowska is to sing, and
.Professor Grubler has promised to jire
diet an earthquake.” — Frankfurter
Zeitung.
His- Relations,
“No, Y'oung man (haughtily to old man)—
sir; I have no reference. I belong
to the famous Key family, sir; and that
is enough."
Old Man (bluntly j—“Any relation to
the Don-Key Mon-Key families and the “WhislKey and Critic. the
?”—Wcuhington
l’p With’tbe Times.
JohnnyDumosey—“Sav,Willie,didn’t think.'vou’d
you ever like to be a pirate
when vou grew up?"
Wiliie Popinjay (contemptuously)—
“\ 0 : Pirates are played out. I want
to be a member of some big Trust, ora
boodle Alderman or something of that
sort ."—Burlington Free Brea.
-
Too Ethereal For Exj
thing Tramp—“Madame, haven’t hungry,‘freezing tou anv
to give a poor,
gentleman?”
Woman-“Oh. yes: I’ll give you
. good morning. ? ?»
■ Tramp—“Thank you, madame. Now
couldn’t you g.ve me something to
wrapitupin ;”—Yankee Blade.
i A Canadian Sr. Helena,
First American Exile—“What caused
your banishment to these shores?”
Second American Exile—“Oh,about a
year ago I started out in life to be a
I young Napoleon of finance.”
First American Exile—“Well?”
Second American Exile—“Well, this
is my St. Helena .”—Xeir York Sun.
j Reassured.
jy r LVmbo tat dime museum in "reat
that alarm)—“Nancy, do you see anfthing in
cage near the monkey;”
Mrs. Kambo—“Ves, there’s a lot ol
snakes."
Mr. Rambo (with recovering self
possession)—“So they are. Fine speci
mens too, aren’t they ?”—Chicago Tri
bune.
! \ Delicate Foot.
I Fashionable shoe store,
j “What size do your wear, madame?”
j “Number four.”
Clerk—“Take "a seat. I think I can
at / you " * Madame I find that
; v0 uire a aU mber ebriit, at Iea'<t "
; '
isn't* -‘Number ei^ht! AYeH, that's a four,
it—four for each foot?”— Chicago
: Herald.
Knowledge is Not Money.
Aliss Penelope Peachblow—“Who is
that?”
Mr. Jonathan Trump—“Oh, that’s
Professor Digbv, who knows everything.
He's considered one of the most profound
scholars in America.”
Aliss Penelope Peachblow—“AYell,
why doesn’t he have his hair cut?”
Air. Jonathan Trump—“He can’t af¬
ford it.”— Life.
Grandma in a Box.
Bobby (who is visiting his kind old
grandmother) — “I wouldn't mind eatin’
some of that nice hot bread, grandma.”
Grandma—“AA r ell, Bobby, you can
have all you want of it.”
“Bobby—“Yes, but ma won’t let me
eat hot bread.”
Giandma (testing the lad’s moral
strength)—-“She Bobby.” won’t know anything
about it,
give Bobby—“All piece, right, ”— grandma, just
me a please. Bazar.
Mak's the Skin Verra Tenner.
A minister, with a rather florid com
p'exion, had gone into the shop of a
barber, one of his parishioners, to be
shaved. The harbor was addicted to
haqd heavy bouts of drinking, after which his
work. was In consequently shaving the unsteady minister at his the
on
occasion referred to he inflicted a cut
sufficiently of the face deep to cover the lower part
with blood. The minister
turned to the barber ana said in a tone
A solemn severity: “A'ou see, Thomas,
what comes of taking too much drink.”
skin “Ay,” replied Thomas, “it mak’s the
verra tenner.”— Sheffield Telegraph.
Subscription: $1.15 in Advance.
A DRUM.
A regiment in motion and the rattle of m
drum,
With a rat, tat, tat! and rat. tat, turn.’
Fear is on the face of some,
Others stepping with aplomb,
And steady is tho plotter and the clatter of
the dram.
Sweeping lines in evolution, fast the wheel¬
ing columns come.
And a thousand men are stepping to the
tapping of the dram;
There are countenances glum.
There are senses dull and numb,
But a boy is stepping proudly; there is play¬
ing on the drum.
The rage and roar of battle, and the rattle of
of a drum,
The shrapnel shot are flying with a rip! and
a zum!
Cruel shells exploding come,
And the bullets hiss and bum.
But the drum still echoes loudly: will the
thing be never mum!
Darkness on the field ef battle, where the
body seekers come;
The storm of death is ended and displayed the
struggle's sum.
A palid face, a drum;
There is blood, and both are dnmb;
A story of a drummer and a story of a drum.
—Chicago Mail.
PITH AMU POINT.
Stake-holders—Beeves.
Military tools—Files of soldiers.
The prettiest thing in veils—Face 3 .
Nothing grate about it—The open
fireplace.
Why is Oolong a certain thing? Be¬
cause it is a certain tea.
There is always plenty of interest
about a rich banker’s daughter.
Jack Frost is a person of low degree
—below 32 degrees at the highest.
A person on shipboard being is usually tiNed
agitated, which is a result of
with the mation.
It seems correct to speak of a spec¬
tacled gentleman as a four-sighted man.
—Pittihurg Chronicle.
Like produces like; consequently th<
tramp’s story is generally like himself—
it “won’t wash .”—Sew York'Seici.
Tramp (after ringing door belt)—
“Please, ma'm, I’ve seen better days—’
Housekeeper—■ ‘So have L It’s real foggy
to-day.”
“What a fine hammock that would
make for a giant!” exclaimed a Western
girl when she saw the Brooklyn Bridge
for the first time.
It cuts the small boy up when heheari
that his father’s old coat is to be cul
down, and the sleeves made into a pait
of trousers for him.
Miss Bristleby—“Don’t hurry, I bea
of you, Mr. Merritt. It’s only eleven.”
Mr. Merritt (who has heard footsteps)—
“I am afraid your-father will kick.”
Jack —“New. look out, I’m going to
kis 3 you.” Sailie (preparing to run) —
“Oh! oh! oh! You wouldn’t dare —
'Jack wavers)—would yooi”— Itraie 'i
Magazine.
There Were Giants in Those Days.
In the battle of Aqu.e Sexti*, th<
Roman battle-front held its own by 8
six-fold line of spearmen, but was finally
broken by an expedient ‘Felix of the Oswald barbarians, in tin
who, says Dr. L.
rV-i-r, by means of leaping poles, flung
themselves into the midst of the serried
legions and attempted to force the fight
by a hand-to hand conflict. On ths
battle-field of Adrianople the suddes
panic of the Roman troops was ascribed
to the exploit of a Gothic warrior, whe
hurled his lanee through the body of a
mail-clad adversary, anti seizing the
lance-handle with both fists held up his
skewered foemau -.s a standard-bearei
would hold aloft a brass eagle of five ot
six pounds. Teutobot, a chief of thoss
Northland giants, could leap full-armed,
over six horses, standing side-by-side:
and the trained lions, which a Roman
commander had imported at great ex¬
pense, were all killed in the first en¬
counter with the vanguard of the un¬
daunted barbarians. “They mistook
them for dons," says the historian, “and
knocked their brains out.”
A Printer Christens a Monarch.
Here is perhaps the most record, important It is
printer’s blunder on
stated, on the authority of the historian,
Kinglake, that it was the intention of
Louis Napoleon to call himself simply
Napoleon, and that the title, Napoleon
III, was due solely to au errsr of the
types. Just before the coup d’etat, a
minister of the home office, busy prepar¬
ing public sentiment, wrote: “Que le
mot d’ordre soil vive Napoleon!!!” The
printer took the exclamations for “III,”
and so the proclamation went out, was
copied by the press, and incorporated in
public speech. It was no time for ex¬
planations, and so the nephew of his
uncle adopted the title.— Epoch.
More' Information Wanted.
Lawyer (hotly)—“Do you mean to say,
sir, that you do not consider -Mr. I3«
Lyre a man of his word?”
Witness—“I do.”
“You do, eh? Do you mean to in¬
sinuate that he ever lies?”
“That’s about it.”
“Now, sir, attention! Do you mean
to say that you would not believe him
under oath;”
“No, I have not said that.”
“Oh, ho! I thought- Fd catch you.
Then you didn’t say you would not be¬
lieve him under oath?”
“No. I haven’t heard him do any
talking under oath get."—New York
Weekly.
Tlte Norwegian Peasant.
The Norwegian peasant has a decided
aptitude for trading and for travel, and
is consequently naturally inclined to
knowledge. Education is making steady
progress in the country; every one can
read and write, and on every farmstead
one or more newspapers are “regularly
taken. The husmsnd (tenants or cotters)
even are beginning to subscibe to news¬
papers. Books they can get from the
parish library, or very often they buy
them for themselves. The modern lit¬
erature of the country has penetrated generally
into every valley, and is now
bought by the well-to-do among the
peasantry.— Harper's.
i'he Spaniards have caught the bicycle
rer.