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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.