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THE LINODLNTON NEWS
VOLUME VII. NUMBER 34.
Canada is putting he* foot on Mormon
immigration from this country.
The death of John Bright is regarded
in England as a great loss to the Unionist
cause.
More railroad building is being done
in the South than anywhere else in the
country.
Capital is taking hold of a scheme to
creosote the soft timber of the South,
now useless, and ship it abroad.
The Mexican Financier states that the
English investments of capital in Mexico
reach the sum of §165,000,000.
South America is filling up with Eng¬
lish, French and Germans, who are try¬
ing to carry their trades and industries
with them.
The late Sydney Bartlett, of Boston,
during his active career at the bar saw
the Supreme Court of the United States
twice entirely renewed.
Georgia’s Capitol was to cost §1,000,
000; it did cost §999,981.57, the com
missioners appointed to superintend its
building having §18.43 to the State
Treasury.
Some one has discovered that women
never reckon time by calendar years, but
always say so many years ago instead of
in the year 1888, or whatever year may
be meant.
About three thousand brakes have
been invented and patented. One of the
latest is described as beautifully simple in
its working. Push a button and the
brakes are set on the entire train.
According to the statistics published by
the Washington and Lee University, that
institution has graduated a larger propor¬
tion of distinguished political leaders than
almost any other college in the country.
There have been some lugubrious tales
lately about the failures of exhibitions
held in Europe, but the one at Melbourne,
Australia, is the most disastrous that has
ever been held, as the deficit amounts to
nearly §1,500,000.
Installment dealers are aghast at a re¬
cent decision of a Louisiana judge that in
that State title to any goods passes upon the
payment of the first installment, and that
after that is made the purchaser may do
what he pleases with the goods.
Good authorities say the Mexican horse
is a serviceable animal, good for long
journeys, easy in a canter, intelligent, full
of fun at times, but rarely vicious, and
could he be domesticated in the United
States would be very popular.
! According to denominational it
a paper
cost this Government §I,S48,000 to sup¬
port 2200 Dakota Indians for seven years
while they were savages. After they
were Christianized it cost. §120,000 to care
ior the same number for the same time, a
saving of §1,728,000.
An employment which tvonld seem per¬
fectly delightful to small boys is tasting
molasses. The molasses taster frequently
has twenty or thirty samples to experi¬
ment upon, taking care to swallow as lit¬
tle as possible. It is said that only a man
with a sweet tooth and a clear head can
bear up under the strain of the occupa¬
tion.
The largest brick yard in the United
States is being built at Chicago, and the
bricks will be as hard as granite and as
heavy. This new brick yard is creating
quite a sensation in architectural and
building trade circles. They bear a
crushing strain of 35,000,000 pounds per
square inch. The works will cost §250,
000 .
Li Hung Chang, the famous Viceroy ol
ol China, said recently: 1 ‘Before half a
century has passed China will be' covered
with railways as with a net. Its immense
mineral resources will be develojied. It
will have rolling mills and furnaces in
many parts of the country, and it is not
impossible that it may do the manufactur¬
ing for the world.”
Says the American Standard: “The
fundamental chord which binds and
preserves American liberties is the com¬
mon school system. It is only by edu¬
cating the masses of the people to a full
understanding of the responsibilities of
citizenship that we can hope for a con¬
servation of American ideas and a con
tinuation of American liberty.”
We are not apt to look to South
America for evidence of the great progress
in science or art, and yet it is said thai
the sewerage system which is now being
constructed in Buenos Ayres is the mosi
perfect in the world. Measures have
been taken which will result in putting
every house in the city in perfect sani¬
tary condition within three years. Sani¬
tarians will watch this stupendous under
taking with §reat interest, and will be
able to deduce from it many valuable
rafcrical lessons.
DEVOTE 13 TO THE INTEREST OE LINCOLN COUNTY.
whip POOR WILL.
Wlien purpling shadows westward creep
And stars through crimsom curtains peep.
And south winds sing themselves to sleep;
Prom woodlands heavy with perfume
Of spicy bud and April bloom
Comes through the tender twilight gloom,
Music most mellow,
“Whip po’ Will—Will, oh! —’
Whip po’ Will—Will, oh!
Whip po* Will, Whip po' Will, Whippo’ Will
—WU1, oh!”
The bosom of the brook Is filled
With new alarm, the forest thrilled
With startled echoes, and most skilled
To run a labyrinthine race
The fireflies light their lamps to chase
The culprit through the darkling space
Misehievous fellow,
“Whip po’ Will—W 11, oh!
Whip po Will—Will, oh!
Whip po’ Will, Whip po’ Will, Whip po’
Will—Will, oh!”
Prom hill to hill the echoes fly.
The marshy brakes take up the cry,
And where the slumbering waters lie
In calm repose, and slyly feeds
The snipe among the whispering reeds,
The tale of this wild sprite's misdeeds
Troubles the billow,
“Whip po’ Will—Will, oh!
Whip po’ Will—Will, oh!
Whip po’ Will, Whip po’ Will, Whip po’
Will-Will, oh!”
And where is he of whom they speak?
Is he just playing the hide and seek,
Among the thickets up the creek?
Or is he resting from his play
In some coo 1 grotto, far away,
Where lullaby crooning zephyrs stray,
Smoothing his pillow,
' “Whip po’ Will—Will, oh!
Whip po’ Will—Will, oh!
Whip po’ Will, Whip po’ Will, Whip po’
Will—Will, oh!”
; —M. M. Folsom in Atlanta Constitution.
THE FATAL FLOWEE,
“You are a dead man,” said the Doc¬
tor, looking fixedly at Anatole.
Anatole was astonished.
He had come to spend the evening with
his old friend, Dr. Bardais, the illustrious
savant, whose studies of poisonous plants
had made him famous. It was not his
fame, however, which attracted Anatole
to the Doctor, but his nobility of heart
and almost paternal kindness. And now
suddenly, without any preparation, the
young man heard this terrific prognostica¬
tion from the lips of so great an author
ity.
“what “Unhappy boy,” continued the Doctor,
have you done?”
Anatole. “Nothing that I know of,” stammered
“Think. Tell me what you have
drunk, what you have eaten, what you
have inhaled!”
This last word was like a ray of light
to Anatole. That very morning he had
received a letter from *a friend who was
traveling flower in India. In this letter he found
a which the tourist had plucked
on the banks of the Ganges, an odd-look¬
ing little red flower, whose odor, he re¬
membered, Seemed to him to be strangely
purgnant. Anatole looked in his pocket
book and took therefrom the letter and
the flower which he showed to the
savant.
“There is not a doubt!" exclaimed the
Doctor. “It is the Pyramenensis Indica!
the fatal flower of blood!”
“You really think so?”
“Alas! I am certain."
“But it is not possible that it should
prove fatal to me. I am only twenty-five
years old, am strong and in the best of
health.” ’
“At what hour did you open this fatal
letter?”
“At 9 o’clock this morning.”
“Well, to-morrow morning, at the
same hour, at the same minute, in full
health, as you say, you will feel a peculiar
pain in your heart, and that will end all.”
“And you know of no remedy, no
means of--"
“None,” said the Doctor.
Then, clasping his head in his hands,
the savant fell into a chair, overcome with
grief.
The emotion of his old friend convincd
Anatole that he was indeed doomed. He
departed at once; he was almost insane.
A cold sweat on his forehead, his ideas
confused, walking mechanically, Anatole
went forth into the night, unconscious of
what was passing about him. For a long
time he walked thus, then, coming to a
bench, he sat down.
This rest did him good. Up to thatr
moment. he had been like a man who has
suddenly received a severe blow on the
head. At. last, however, his mind seemed
to clear, and he began to gather his scat¬
tered ideas.
“My situation,” he thought, “is like
that of a man condemned to death. Such
a person, however, can still hope for
mercy. But how long have I to live?”
He looked at his watch.
1 ‘Three o’clock in the morning. It is
time to go to bed. What! I go to bed?
give to sleep the last six hours of my life?
No. I have certainly something better
than that to do. But what? Why, I
have my will to make.”
Not far away was a restaurant which
was open all night. Thither Anatole
went.
“Waiter, bring me a pot of coffee and
a bottle of ink,” he said, as he seated
himself at a table.
He drank a cup of coffee, and, looking
at the paper lying on the table before
him, said:
“To whom shall I leave my income of
30,000 francs? I have neither father nor
mother. Among the people in whom I
am interested there is only one to whom
I care to leave ray money—Nicette.”
Nicette was Anatole’s second cousin, a
golden charming girl of eighteen years, having
hair and large dark eyes. Like
him she was an orphan, and this similar
bereavement had long since established a
bond of sympathy between them.
His will was quickly drawn up. He
left everything to Nicette.
That done, ho drank a second cup of
eoffae. j
“Poor Nicette!” he thought, “she was
very sad the last time I saw her. Her
guardian, who knows nothing beyond the
LINCOLNTON, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, JUNE 28, 1889.
wind instrtuments which he teaches pupils
of the Conservatory to play, did not do
right in promising her liand to a brute, a
bully, whom she detests, She detests
him all the more because she loves some
one else, if I have able to understand her
reticence and her embarrassment. Who
is this happy mortal? I know not, but,
he is certainly worthy of her since she
has chosen him. Good, sweet, beautiful,
loving, Nicette deserves the best of hus¬
bands. Ah! if she might have been my
wife! It is outrageous to force her to
marry a man she hates, to ruin her life by
entrusting such a treasure to the care of a
brute. But why may not I be Nicette's
champion? I will be. I will undertake
the matter to-morrow morning. But to¬
morrow will be too late; I must act at
once. It is an unseasonable hour to see
people, but as I shall die in five hours I
cannot consider their convenience. It is
decided! My life for Nicette!”
Anatole left the restaurant and hastened
to the house of M. Bouvard, the guardian
of Nicette.
It was 4 o’clock in the morning when
he rang the bell. Once, twice, three
times he rang. At last M. Bouvard him¬
self, astonished, his night-cap on his
head, opened the door.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, “Is
there afire?”
“No, my dear M. Bouvard,” replied
Anatole. “I have come to call on you.”
“At this hour?”
“All hours are good in which one can
see you, M. Bouvard. But you are in
your night-clothes; you had better return
to bed.”
“That is what I'm going to do.” And
then, leading Anatole to his chamber, he
continued: “But I suppose, since you
have aroused me at this hour, that you
have something important to say to me.”
“Very important! It is necessary, M.
Bouvard, .that you should give up the
idea of marrying my cousin Nicette to M.
Capdenae.”
“Never! never!”
“You must not say never.”
“My resolution is taken; this marriage
shall take place.”
“It shall not take place.”
“Well, we shall see. And now that
you have my answer I will not detain you
longer.”
“You are not very amiable this morn
ing, M. Bouvard. But I am not offended,
and as I am persevering I remain.”
“Stay if you will. I, however, shall
imagine that you have departed and I
shall say no more.” Then,turning away,
M. Bouvard muttered: “Who ever heard
of such a tiling! To disturb a peaceable
man, rouse him from his sleep to talk
about such nonsense!”
Suddenly M. Bouvard jumped into
bed.
Anatole got the Professor's trombone,
in which he blew as though a deaf per¬
it son were trying to play it. The sounds
emitted were infernal.
“My precious trombone! the gift of
my pupils!” exclaimed the Professor.
“Leave that instrument alone.”
“M. Bouvard,” replied Anatole, “you
have imagined that I have departed. I
imagine you afe absent, and I amuse my
self awaiting your return.” Thcn, after
blowing furiously on the trombone, he
exclaimed: “Ah, what, a beautiful note!”
“You will cause my landlord to give
me notice to leave the house. He will
not let me play on my trombone after
midnight. ”
“Ah, the man has no music in his
soul!”.
Again the trombone thundered.'
“For heaven's sake, stop!”
“Do you consent?”
“To what?”
“To give up the idea of this marriage?”
“But I cannot do that?”
“Very well, then-”
The trombone finished Anatole’s
sentence.
I “M. Capdenae is a terrible fellow. If
should offer him such an affront he
would kill me.”
“Does that fear restrain you?”
“Yes.”
“Then leave, the matter to me. Only
promise me that if I obtain M. Capdenac’s
acquiscenee my cousin shall be free.”
“Yes, I promise you she shall be free.”
“Bravo! I have your word. Now I
will leave you. But, by the way, what
is this Capdenac’s address?"
“It is 100 rue Deux-Epees.”
“I will go there at once. Goodby.”
“Ah!” thought M. Bouvard, “you are
going to throw yourself in the lion’s den,,
and yon will get what you deserve.”
Anatole hastened to the address the
Professor had given him. It was six
o'clock when he reached the house. He
rang the bell violently.
“Who is there?” cried a deep voice be¬
hind the door.
“Let me in. I have an important
communication from M. Bouvard.”
Anatole heard the rattling of a safety
chain which was being removed, and the
sound of a key which was turned in three
locks successively.
“Well, this man is well guarded!” ex¬
claimed Anatole.
At last the door was opened, and Ana¬
tole found himself in the presence of a
man who had fierce curling mustaches
and was arrayed like a buccaneer.
“You see-—always prepared,” said M.
Capdenae. “That is ray motto.”
The walls of the reception room were
covered with panoplies. In the little
room to which Capdenae led his visitor
one poisoned saw- nothing but arms—yataghans,
and arrows, sabres, swords, pistols
blunderbusses. It was a veritable
arsenal. It.was enough to strike terror
to the soul of a timid person.
“Bah!” thought Anatole. “What
does it matter? I shall die within two
hours in any case.”
“Monsieur,” said Capdenae, “what is
the object of-”
“Monsieur,” replied Auatole, inter¬
Nicette?” rupting him, “you wish to marry Mile.
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“Ah, “Monsieur, you shall not marry will"prevent her.”
blood! and who
me?”
“I.”
Capdenae gazed at Anatole who was
not very large, but who looked very de¬
termined.
“Ah, young man,”ffie said at last, “you
have the good fortune.to find mo in $
good humor. Profit by it. Save your
self while there is yet time. Were I not
in an amiable mood I would Dpt answer
for your days.”
“And I do not answer for yours.”
“A defiance! to me! Capdenae! Dr,
you know that I have fought twenty
duels, that I have killed five of my ad¬
versaries and wounded the other fifteen?
Go, young man, go. I have pity for your
youth. There is still time; go. - ’
“I see,” replied Anatole, “by your
manner and your surroundings that you
are an adversary worthy of me. and that
increases my desire to measure swords
witli so redoubtable a man. Come! Shall
we take these two swords or those over
the mantel? or these two battle-axes? or
cavalry sabres? or do you prefer these
yataghans? Are you undecided?" what j
do you say?” ,
“I am thinking of your mother and of ;
the sorrow that awaits her.”
“I have no mother. But perhaps you
prefer carbines or revolvers?” j
“Young man, do not handle those lire
arms.”
“Are you afraid? you tremble!”
“Tremble! I? It is the cold.”
“Then you must fight, or renounce tho
hand of Nicette.” i
“I admire your bravery. The brave
undersfand each othef. Shall I tell you
sometliingf * j
* 'Speak. ’
“For some time I myselt have thought
of breaking this engagement; but I did
not know how to go about it. I would, :
therefore, willingly consent .to your re¬
quest, but you understand that it will noi
do for me, Capdenae. to seem to yield to
your threats, you know, you have made
threats.” • I
“I withdraw them.” |
“Well, then, the matter is settled.” :
“Will you write and sign a paper stat¬ j
ing that you relinquish the hand of Nic¬ i
ette?”
“I have so much sympathy with you
that I cannot refuse.” i
Having obtained this precious paper,
Anatole hastened to the house of M.
Bouvard. He reached the door about 6
o'clock and rang the bell. '
“Who’s there?”
“Anatole.”
“Go home and go to bed.” cried the
Professor, roughly. !
“I have Capdenac’s relinquishment oi [
Nicette’s hand. Open the door, or I’ll !
break it in.” j
M. Bouvard opened the door. Anatole i
gave him the paper, and then went to the
door of Nicette’s chandler and cried:
“Cousin, get up; dress yourself and
come here.”
A few moments afterward Nicette, fresl
as a rose, entered the little reception
room. I '
“What’s the matter?” she sgid.
“The matter is,” cried M. Bouvard.
“that your cousin is mad.”
“Mad be it!” said Anatole; “but Ni
cettc will see that there is method in my
madness This night, my dear little
cousin, I have accomplished two things:
M. Capdenae renounces your hand, and
your guardian consents that you shall
many the man you love.”
“ M y guardian, are you indeed willing
that I should marry Anatole?’’
“Ah!” exclaimed Anatole.
“It is you, my cousin, whom i love.
At that moment Anatole felt his hear!
beat violently. What caused it? Was ii
the pleasure which Nicette’s unhaped-foi
avowal gave him? Was it the pain fore¬
told by the Doctor? Was it death?
“Unfortunate man that I am!” cried
poor Anatole. “She loved me. I see
mv happiness before me, and I am going
to die without attaining it.”
Then, grasping the hands of Nicette,
he told her all; he told her about the let
ter he had received, the flower whose
odor he had inhaled, the warning of his
old friend, his will, the subsequent events
and his success in obtaining her freedom.
“And now,” he added, “I am going to
die!” ”
“That is impossible,” exclaimed Ni
cette. “The Doctor is deceived. Who is
he?”
“A man who is never deceived, Ni
epfte • be i< Dv K iv.biis ”
“Bardais! Bardais!” cried Bouvard.
laughing. “Listen to this paragraph in
the morning newspaper: ‘The savant. Dr.
Zlnsanity Rsrdais hnshenomp smlrb-ilv ins-ine iurn!
has token a scientific
It is well known that the Doctor has de
voted himself specially to the study of
poisonous plants. He now believes all
persons whom he meets have been poi¬
soned, and he persuades them of the fact.
He was taken at midnight to an insane
asylum.”
“Nicette!”
“Anatole!”
The lovers were clasped in each other's
arms.— Epoch. .
Girls ns Pianomakers.
A curious evolution is said to be taking
place in a piano manufactory forces" in Boston
among the working of the estab¬
lishment. This gradual change which is
occurring is that from male to female em¬
ployes, and to such an extent that not
only is it said that the majority of actions
made in this factory are? turned out by
girls, but they have also been introduced
into the varnish department, where girls
and women are actually doing the varnish
work on piano cases. Massachusetts has
a reputation for its great, number of fe
male workers who are engaged at a great
many industries usually attended to by
men, but this is the first case, if true.
where they have been employed varnishing in a piano of
factory to do the laborious
piano cases. Ac® I or* Star.
»- lanftu. . .. » T _
‘ ‘ •
There are about twenty varieties
lilac, all of which are pretty and
any garden soil under circumstances in
which other shrubs would dwindle and
die.. The common purple lilac is the
of the species. The white variety
is less common and not so siukishly sweet.
Persian lilac is a small tree of grace¬
ful habits, and its flowers are of a lighter
color. The Chinese lilac has much
flowers than - the • other varieties,
its leaves are dark glossy green.—
Brooklyn Citizen.
There are 8346 miles of railroad ia
in Iowa, (s.
BUDGET OF FUN.
HUMOROUS 8K KTCHKS FROM
VARIOUS SOURCES.
Conldn'f Scratch Against the Door—
hot Otherwise—About the Same
Thing—An Anxious Search
Original Domestic Economy.
Artist (at a Shantytown house door)—
“Excuse me, madam, but I have an etch
ing.”
his Irish Landlady (slamming the door in
face)—“An itchin’.have yez? Begobs!
then ye’ll not scratch yourself agin my
dure I”
- --
- not otherwise.
■ Tom—“Will vou take niv note for
payment?”
Dick—“Yes; if it's a bank note, and
if it's signed by the Treasurer of the
United States.”— Yankee Blade.
_
abort the same thing.
Editor—“I am sorry to say that I find
your witticisms are not acceptable, Mr.
Jinx.” ' *
Jinx (sarcasticallv)—‘-Too refined, per
haps?”
Editor—“No—no, refined is not ex
actly the word. Sav too diluted, and
you will come nearer the idea ."—Terre
Haute Ecpr cs
—
AX ANXIOUS SEARCH.
Ethel—“Oh, mamma! I've learned in
this book that preserved tomatoes will
take ink stains out of silk. I'm going to
try it on my dress.”
Ethel applies the tomatoes and hangs
the dress out to dry.
Mamma (next day)—“Ethel, what are
you poring over that book so lone for?”
Ethel—“I want to find out what will
take tomatoes out of silk ."—Binahmtun
Republican.
ORIGINAL domestic economy.
A lady tells this: “We needed eggs
one morning, and old some?’ Maggie was sent to
the grocery to get Later in the
da .v Maggie volunteered the general re
mar tba * ' e ?>- rs * s high.
''Are , the) ! I replied. “How much:
ort CI: !* S a cozei L mum * Sure I d
*
, be after bu that price,
.vmg no eggs at
mom, and so I burned them of the neigh
ors ' -ommeretal Advertiser.
A lasting wrong.
Fred (bitterly)—“That woman did me
the greatest injury woman can do to man
—gave me solemn promise of marriage.”
Harry—“And broke it?’’
Fred—“No. kept it. and made me
keep it, too! — America.
a cautious girl.
“One minute, mamma." said a voung |
wotnan . .q-p be down as soon as j‘ hav
bubbc , d taking this photograph.”
‘ ‘Photograph of what
« of George's last letter to me In
these days of perishable writing fluids,
it - j ust weU be careful. "—Merchant
s rts t0
Traveler.
ANOTHER VICTIM.
“Have you noticed how fearfullv bad
Cholly has been ~
“Yes; looking of late?”
the paw feller is killing himself
with overwork.”
“Gud gwacious! You don’t sav.
What s he doing?
“Why, he's actually doing without a
valet /’—New York Sun.
-
not a victory
i.Tk»r n ,i™ -/■■ * i . g0t
tbe w „ t f th t 'mv f lne
“Yes it omrht t H ; 'paper'' Y- f „• ,
y ke the’one I read in Western i
“What it 'd' ‘ '
was
«<r t . u-.. i,„i „ „ T .
Raddeil the other day. ^ bm'son'e oim
~ ”
‘ *
_
a ?ad remembrance.
He—“bhe _ always goes alone. Won't
have a gentleman attend her anywhere.
Her last escort met such a shocking know.”" death
right before her eyes, you
sbe ~' tbink 1 remember. He lost
his . life trying to save her when the con
cert hall caught fire, didn't he?”
He—“No. He was crushed to death
by the ladies at Easterdudd’s spring open
ing. ”— Munsey's Weekly.
BROUG1IT HIM TO IUS FEET.
“I fear it can never be, George,” mur¬
mured the fair girl. "There are obstacles
in the way.”
“What are they. I,aurademanded the
>. g man, eagerly, *‘Perhaps I cau
O vercome them!”
“Papa has failed in business, and-”
“You needn't mention any more,” said
the young man dejectedly, as lie got up
from Ills knees .—Chicago Tribune.
a horse of a different color.
Proud American (in Canada)—“Yes,
gentlemen, 1 was President, of tho Ever
Faithful Trust Company, and I stole
$50,000.”
Bystander—“booms to me your face is
familiar. Ain’t, you the man who some
years before that stole a loaf of bread for
his starving family ?”
American (ferociously)—“Do vou mean
to insult me, sicV'—Philadelphia Record,
-
a preacher s curve delivery.
Mrs. Froutpew—“I think it is shock
ing—the interest our minister is taking '
baseball. Why, — I ‘ saw him out play
ing yesterday afternoon with a lot of
boys from the college.”
Mr. F.—“Oh, I don’t know that there
is anything wrong about baseball.”
Mrs. F.—• 'I ----- don’t say —j that —----------- it is really j
immoral, but by and by he’ll get a curve
pitch, as they call §10,000 it, and either leave the
pulpitor want a year. ’— Chicago
Herald. -
NOTHING FOF. HER TO SAY.
A gentleman who had lost his nose
was invited out to tea. “My dear,” said
the kind-hearted lady of the house to her
little daughter, “I want you to be very
careful to make no rernaii about Mr.
Jenkins's nose.”
Gathered around the table, everything
was going well; the child peeped about,
looked rather puzzled for along time,
and at last startled the table with:
“Mu, why did you tell me to say noth¬
ing about Mr. Jenkins's nose? ) He hasn't
got any.” A
A PCXSTERTOUS PBttOSOPEEE.
“See that man working the road ram¬
mer in the street over there ?”
“Yes.”
“No doubt you feel somewhat better
than that man.”
“Well, it strikes me that there must be
certain social differences between us.”
■•And yet your occupations are just
about the same.”
‘;ifow do you make it.’’
“Your business is compounding, isn't
g “And his is come-pounding. So there
tou are .''—Merchant Traveler.
V
"V- .REMARKABLE SANG FROID?
At i' club recently the conversation fell
on gambUsw and the sang froid displayed
by some men ia the face of considerable
losses.
“Well," remarked suddenly one of the
members, “what would you all say if I
were to tell you that I once lost a cool
hundred thousand,’and that it did not
affect me more thamdf it had been ten
cents?” flfek
Every one was duinTtfoun ded, till finally
a timid voice ventured:
“Where did that happen? 2 At Monte
Carlo?”
••No,” dreams replied the other, AdverHfer. eaftdy; “in
my ."—Commercial
NOT INQUISITIVE. ■i
Tnere was dust on his back and grime
of two weeks' standing behind ms ears,
and as he stood on a corner recently, he
was heard to remark that he \vas from
Lansing.
“What is the fare from Lanriicr to De
i troit ?” queried a dudish lot >jjng bv
j stander, looking waggishly a& an ac
quaintance. 1?
“I dunno." was the reply. -Si
“Don't know!" echoed his a aesnoner,
incredulously. tljp
•■Young man," returned tramp,
impressively, “when I want to go to a
place by rail I get quietly oa the train,
and when it gets there. I step off again,
without ever asking a ^ngrbloomin' fool
questions .”—Detroit Fr
4
Recollections of John Bright.'
Of all the speakers whom I ever heard,
says Professor Gohlwin Smith in the New
York Independent, .John. Bright was the
Bright greatest, that and I heard of all thjiispe tH| eches of .ToIie his
greatest was
speech in St. James’s Hall, London, on j
the Civil War in the United States,
did not hear what was considered Bright's
greatest effort in the House of Commons
—his speech against war with Russia, in
which he said that "the Angtf>t>f Death
was already hovering overSthem—you
might hear the rustling of bjg<wmgs!"
His characteristic as an .-ridor was no!
passion or point, but weight. In this he
resembled Webster. His diction was ex
tremely simple, and he rarely indulged in
metaphor or rhetorical ornament gesture of ant
kind - ^ or did he us( ' an I in his
delivery. He always made you fee! that
he was speaking, not for effect, but from
a sincere derire to convince. The dis
tmetnes^of h:- pronunciation . ratliei ,han
the power of his voice made him perfectly
audible in the largest hall.
The idea '- bat b ‘‘ tmt compose his
speechesi^feurd. fect ??ibl Literary be attained form so per-
1 not P° .V ex
! temper*. Gladstone's speeches are really,
t0 “ fr* 1 ' l ‘ stt ‘ at ' and the in
; ■ evitable consequence is that, the most
impassive when delivered, they are totally
litel ? lr v m " i t "' hcn read as
-
asri’trssafsrs . ssss
when he was speaking and seen his notes
—written on little slips of paper—in his
handle One of his best speeches, in its
way. was that on the unveiling of the
Cobden statue at Bradford. He told me
that no speech had ever given him more
trouble, that he had long been in doubt
how he should deal with the subject, anc.
that the inspiration had at last come to
him one morning when he was dressing.
In common. I believe, with most great
orators who feel tho burden of their ic¬
putation, he was to the last nervous about
his speeches. Even when he rose to ad¬
dress a .perfectly sympathetic audience his
ili kneesjjf !Of While as lie speaking, declared, however, trembled he under
j was
1 perfectly collected and could answer in
Jpuptions and take advantage of the m
Cidents of debate. 1 have heard him
|peak very well ex-tempore in a quiet
Sway. He began, I believe, as a temper¬
ance orator with a single lecture. He had
certainly received no training in elocution
audLwas free from all the tricks which it
is irot to produce.
AmrM,ir%h. -, v . Acrophobia.
minv curious nl-vsical ox
}= thnt n-o nov aftrirtino- ternf ttren
the one beet to which the “aero
phobia" has AT&s applied has manv exa^erated points
; nl -p r p Sf Tt to an hiffh~
! edition of feu- recentllLwrihcd when in places ohe’
„a1n aw, bis oaf ffie b^nt
his own Though
j tur ' , not , lt a ll timid aboveground ell his" courage
| Ic nations him when mounting" lie has
in %, step ladder;
; jinds it extremely unpleasant to ride on
top of a coach, or even to look out of a
, first story window. His idiosvncrasy
bids hint to use an elevator, and ' tSflinere
thought of those who have cast theni
selves - ’ down * from ' ’ high • ’ places ’ causes ting
ling all over his person. The thought ol *
the earth “ spinning ------- - through space ----- ; is
j j '■ enough this luvugl. fear to U.___He growing cause discomfort. him sight finds and
upon as
| hearing become less acute, and what
walking in high places was formerly pos
g ; b ] e for him is getting more and more
difficult. A greater or less degree of this
fear is undoubtedly quite common. A
' form of it perfectly
very intense seems
i consistent with normal functions .—The
i Polyclinic. —
Snbseription: $1.25 la Adfaace.
AT SET OF DAY.
t sit alone and look back to the past—'
Those golden days whose shifting snndq
have ran.
And left a present barren of the sun—
As one who noble gains had pridefuSy
amassed
To find them melt like fairy gold at last.
Who lingers dispossessed, despoiled, undone,
Deploring the dear wealth so dearly won,
-So lavishly upon the waters cast.
I who was rich, am now bereft of all:
I who had hope am thrall now to despair;
Youth's happy prophecies Time has dis¬
proved;
Dumb are the voices that were wont to call
In days when love was good, and life was
fair—
Y et it is something to have lived and
loved.
—Louise Chandler Moulton.
PITH AND POINT.
Always worn out—Hats.
Universal profession—That of gold
chaser.
Ground rents—The effects of an earth¬
quake.
The tears shed on the stage are all vol
untears.
A young man in town says the best
kind of meter to save gas is “meet her by
moonlight alone .”—Norristown Herald.
If speech were really silver, as the
poet's fancy pictures it, what an increase
of millionaires there would be.— Jewelers'
Weekly.
“You are now like a book,” said the
black Sultan to a chained prisoner, “be¬
cause you are bound in Morocco ."—Nets
York Journal.
One great trouble with those who go to
the bad is that they do not think to pro¬
vide themselves with a return ticket.—
New York News.
“Fine dog that of mine. Doc.” “Ye-es,
but isn't he consumptive? “Consump
tive?” •■Yes—he's Spitz blood, you
kn<rw ."—Hotel Mad.
Elderly Gent—--I am eighty years old,
young man. and I don't recollect ever
telling a lie.” The Young Man—••Well,
you can't expect your memory to be re¬
liable at that age .”—New York Son.
••But. doctor, you said last week that
the patient would certainly die, and now
he is perfectly well." “Madam, tha
confirmation of my prognosis is only a
question of time .”—Fliegende Blaster.
•Why is it. Jones, that boys are
wilder than girls?'’ asked Smith. “I
guess,” answered Jones, as he gazed after
a wasp-waisted girl who passed down the
street, “it is because girls are more
stayed .”—Boston Courier.
Benevolent Pedestrian (to gamin. who
is cryine)—“What's the matter, my boy?”
Gamin—“Boo, hoo! I've lost a dime,
sir.” B. P.—“Here’s another,” giving
it. “What are you crying for now?’’
Gamin—“Because I didn't say a quarter.”
Philadelphia Netcs.
Cuban Pineapple Plantations.
Twelve miles from Havana is a fine
pineapple plantation of sixty acres, owned
bv two brothers. The pineapple trees
are low and bushy, about two feet high,
with long and prickly leaves extending
up and around the pineapple. These
bushes, or trees, are planted touching
each other in rows about four feet apart.
Each tree has an apple growing in the
top. Some were just forming, othfers
half grown and others full grown, We
had the pleasure of eating them ripe from
the trees, and we found the flavor far
superor to those we get at home, which
are shipped green to ripen on the way.
There are about 1700 trees to the acre.
Each tree produces an apple every eight
months, which are sold on the place for
about ten cents apiece. The trees are
good for four years’ bearing; they are
then replaced with fresh settings. It was
indeed a pretty sight—the pineapples in
their different conditions furnished dif¬
ferent hues—some golden, ''lending some azure
and some bluish green, all to¬
gether. making a beautiful picture.—-!f
lanta Constitution.
A Parrot Story.
A parrot was recently bought by a
South Side lady upon the affidavit of the
man who sold it that it had only a re¬
fined education. The bird had in reality
been the property of a saloon keeper, and,
its cage being near the cracker bowl,
everybody made free to give it crackers.
Its new mistress had hardly got it hung
up when a lady friend called, and, of
course went into ecstasies over the parrot.
wheQ ghe b to poke her fingers
tbl0u „ b tbe cage and call out “Polly,
p 0 n T< ' Pollv,” the bird opened one eye,
„ 0Rk ed his head sidewise, looked at tho
visitor, and said with great gravity:
“Now, for goodness sake don’t ask me
to have a cracker. I’ve sworn off.”—
Chicago Mail. ....
Thread Imbedded in an Apple,
Louise Hunceker, a Bristol (Conn.)
girl, bit into an apple and found a thread
embedded in it. By careful manipula
tion the apple was cut up and the thread
removed. It was twenty-tour mcnes
long and quite course, being about No. 4
in size There was a knot in one end.
-
The apple was of the King Philip species
and about four inches m diameter. The
I thread was wound directly about the core.
I »* P res “ ce in * that h «“ last fPP last le spring is tTZf blrd bird JZ must must
by the theory * k sm ' m£r a a
I have dropped the thread, which lodged
m . rite , apple , blossom and remained until
’ ---------- became enclos ed m the app.e.
An Oil King’s Luck.
The luck of John McKeon, the oil
few, continues, Ms present income from
b j s -wells being §50,000 a month. In
addition to his oil interests, he owns 25,
000 acres of yellow pine lands in Ala
bama, one of the largest flour mills in
Minnesota, and a business block in Balti
’ m qre said to be worth 81,000,000.
; Nevertheless he goes about his oil-wells
j t - rom fi vo i n the morning until late in the
i evening, in an ordinary workmans avess,
| —New York Tribune.