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THE LINCOLNTON NEWS
VOLUMIS VII. NUMBER 44 .
The Samoan conference was carried on
In English.
a —— mmm ammmmm —■a—»
The National Greenback party is about
to reorganize.
Spain is arranging for an international
celebration on her own soil.
The Grant family have made $900,000
out of the General’s memoirs.
Water is destroying more property than
fire in the United States this year.
The venerable Mrs. Polk is now the
only living widow of a President from the
Southern States.
The question of women sitting in
county councils in England has been de-,
cided in the negative.
Both France and Great Britain lead the
United States so far as exports to South
America are concerned.
During the first six months of the
present year 1522 miles of new track
were laid by the various railroads in the
country.
The question of leprosy in India is as
suming a serious character. It is reported
that a British brigadier-general has been
sent home with the disease.
Leading financial authorities report
that there never was a period when so
much investing was going on in purely
industrial and commercial channels.
The Czar of Russia has suppressed the
Lutheran Church in his domains. There
were three years ago about three million
members of this body in the Russias,
mostly in the Baltic provinces.
A novel exhibition is to be made in
Chicago this fall, namely, a horse show,
to he held in the big Exposition Build¬
ing, It is predicted to be the finest show
of this kind, ever held in the United
States. Prizes will be distributed for
the best horses and equipments; as car¬
riages and vehicles of various designs will
also be included in the exhibition.
\ I Here is a proof that electricity is forg¬
ing its way everywhere. Colonel Tbom
usson, R. E., is surveying the country be¬
tween Naini Tai and the plains in India
'at his own cost, with a view of construct¬
ing an electric railway. He considers
the water power furnished by the lake
near by, which is now running to waste,
sufficient to do the work he is projecting.
The New Y’ork Sun says; “All over
the country the newspapers are begin¬
ning to see clearly that this city is the
place for the great International Expos!- .
tion of 1892. It looks as though all of
them would very soon be in agreement
upon ,5. the question. We trust that from
this time .. onward , they ,, will strive . . to .
pro
mote the success of the enterprise, which
is sure to be advantageous to the whole
people of the United States.”
With all our boasted scientific progress
we really know very little, asserts the
San Francisco Chronicle, of the laws of
meteorology. We can measure the force
and intensity of the wind when it blows,
and gauge f, the rain when it falls; but at
for . foretelling a wind-storm or a rain- .
storm we do not know much more about
it than the untutored Indian, who watches
the chipmunks and muskrats and makes
, his . prognostications in accordance with
their movements. Even the barometer
takes freaks and gets unreliable at times,
and then we are all at sea as regards
what is coming next, except that we shall
probably have a “spell of weather.”
North Carolina has had bad luck with
her histories, remarks the Atlanta Con¬
stitution. The Rev. Dr. Hawkes, spent a
life time collecting material and writing
the early history of the State, but after
his death all his collections were sold to
the New York Historical Society. Air.
Hugh Williamson collected mafiy valua¬
ble historical documents, but they have
all disappeared. Judge Alartin was
checked in his historical work by the
damage sustained by his papers on a sea
voyage. Colonel John H. Wheeler made
extensive and valuable collections, but
they were sold at public auction and scat¬
tered throughout the country. All this
is enough to make a writer pause before
attempting a history of the old North
State.
Silk growing will soon be introduced
into Brazil by a number of capitalists
who have obtaiued a special coucession
from the Government. The concession¬
aries have bound themselves, however,
to build spinning and weaving mills
with the latest machinery and equip¬
ments ; must be built capable of working
up annually 20,000 pounds of raw silk in
that city or neighborhood. A school
must be established within a year for the¬
oretical and practical teaching iu the
breeding of the silkworm and the culture
of the mulberry. Reeling machines
must be brought to the center of silk
• growing, and mulbenv plants furnished
to growers, and a certain number of
plants must be employed in the various
processes. i
DEVOTED TO THE INTEREST OF LINCOLN COUNTY.
LOVE.
“Shall I give your love to your mother?”
He said to the maid of three,
Fer her mother had gone to a country
Where presently he should be.
What calm in the eyes of azure,
What snow on the innocent brow,
How sweet was that voice of slow music:
‘ ‘My mother has my love now!”
—Harriet P. Spofford, in St. Nicholas.
THE FATE OF AN USHER.
BY ANNE RICHARDSON EARLE.
The scene was a young man’s boudoir,
If such an anomaly can exist; the time,
late in the evening, when confidences
easiest expression; the people were
boudoir’s owner, in a neglige compound
of dress clothes and a smoking jacket,
and the friend of his bosom,
similarly attired, with the
abomination of a cigarette between
fingers.
“Just let me read it to you again,”
said he of the smoking jacket, straight¬
ening himself in his chair, and taking table.
worn looking paper from the
“Something may suggest itself to you. I
want to have it all right, you know, so
that when the notice is mentioned I shall
be ready with a good suggestion. Now,
then, listen: ‘Miller—Waldron.—On
Wednesday, the 28thinst., at the Church
of the Seven Angels, by the Right Rev¬
erend Arthur St. John Forbes, D.D., as¬
sisted by the Reverend Francis Willard
Mason, George Northrup Miller and Ada
line Bell, daughter of the late Major
General Sylvester Waldron, United States
Army.’ How is it? Does it go?”
“Go? I should think so! All those
capitals will sparkle like diamonds in the
sun. But, Miller, I wish you would
count me out of the affair. How many
weddings do you suppose I have played
usher for this spring? Six—no less.”
“Well, make it seven, There’s luck
in odd numbers.”
*, There wouldn’t be in this case. I
was just ready to swear off from all social
dissipations, and go into training until
fall, for the sake of my health. There’s
Greene, he’s a good fellow; have him.”
Miller shook his head. ‘ ! I won’t have
Greene nor anybody else,” he said, clasp¬
ing his hands behind his head and throw¬
ing himself back in his chair. ‘ ‘I’ll have
you. I’m sorry if you’re feeble. I wish
you could be best man. There’s plenty
to get and little to do in that situation;
but Ada’s brother—confound him!_I
had to ask him.”
“Of course. I don’t grudge him the
honor; but you know Wednesday is drill
night for me, and—”
“I’ll pay your fine.”
“Hang the fine!”
“With pleasure; but if you don’t mind
the fine, I’m sure I don’t see why you
mind cutting. They will work you harder
than I shall. L won’t oblige you to carry
a gun.”
“Thanks, I’m equal to the gun, I
believe.”
“I’ll tell you what it is, Brooks, you
have been in no end of a sulk since there
was a doubt about Miss Howard’s beiDg
maid of honor. I must say I think it's
. shabby of you to desert me on that ac
count . still, I will be magnanimous, and
tell you the news, although it would serve
7 0U right if I didn’t. She has accepted,
aftei ! all | h f r fatber consented toiler
coming to town for the occasion. Why J
he wanted to refuse at aU It , an - t j magiue
But it is like him; everybody knows what
he is.”
Brooks laughed with a more interested
manner than he had shown heretofore.
“I don’t,” he said; “what is he?”
“Why, haven't you met him?”
“Y’es, but only once or twice,and then
not for more than a minute. He is a
! handsome man.”
“Oh> iron-gray hair gives any man a
and he is tall and
straight, which helps o.-t the idea, but
he is <i perfect tyrant. I have heard that
he is positively cruel to his daughter;
Fhat De bought this place out of town
P ho ul I )OS( '|i t let to keep her look shut at up, her. and Now that
won a man
there was Badford It seems that he
went out there to offer AliSs Howard his
hand and heart, and was fairly rushed off
P^ ace Dy his host.”
jf> US * b * e m “ n ' ** ^ a< ^'
f ord
... , „ t , know; it told.
on was I admit
that, ,, , excepting financially, Radford is
not much of a catch. He hasn’t as much
tev Bg W r 1 C ' ™ arft Ust i sayI thlak We tbat f “T" he
m ght have been declined , with thanks,
I suppose it sounds heartless, but peculiar
advantages^ any father. belong to a gu-1 who hasn’t
Biooss rose to his feet and dropped
his cigarette end into a receiver; then
turning an animated countenance toward
his host he grasped his hand and shook
it warmly. “I’ll see you through, Miller,”
he said, “if it takes the last prop of my
failing constitution.
After this the wedding preparations
went merrily ou, One evening, how
ever, hardly a week before the great
day, the happy bridegroom with sought out
his friend Brooks, a wrinkle ou his
brow and a troubled sympathy in his
manner. “It’s all up, old man,” he
said, with desperate frankness.
“Great heavens! What do you mean?”
exclaimed Brooks, aghast.
Aliller laughed a little. “Oh, it isn’t
as bad as that,” he said, “only Miss
Howard can’t come; she has sprained
her ankle. Lucky it was no worse. She
was thrown from her horse. Her father
must be an idiot to let her ride horse¬
back. I suppose he wanted to break her
neck. ”
Brooks laughed in spite of his dis¬
appointment. “Oh, you’re not yourself
at all, Aliller dear, Aliller dear,” he said;
“and small blame to you. However, as
you say, it is lucky it is no worse.”
“Yes; but what shall you do?”
“I? I shall send Jjer out some flow¬
ers, and a note to say that I am sorry.”
Miller looked relieved. “And you’ll
bo on hand yourself all the same?” he
said.
“Do you take me for a child?” an
swered Brooks, with some asperity.
course I will.”
*
LINCOLNTON, GEORGIA, FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 6 , 1839 .
He was as good as,his word.
Y ou re a trump, Brooks,” Miller said
tohim, in a hasty aside at the reception,
“You have outdone yourself to-night.”
“Don’t say a word,” returned Brooks,
in a low delightful voice. “I have a
note from Miss Howard in my pocket,
asking me to come out to-morrow after
noon and tell her about it. So I am
playing society reporter to-night, seeing
everything Miller and everybody.”
* ford!” laughed. “Alas! poor Rad
he said, significantly.
On the following afternoon, therefore,
a pretty young lady with an interesting
pillowed foot was relating circumstan
tially the story of her temporary invalid
ism and its cause to a brown-moustached
young man seated near by, who showed
an absorbing interest in the subject.
It was an attractive picture for con
temp.ation on a warm day. A shady ve
randa, with a gentle breeze coming
toward it over an odorous velvet lawn; a
small afternoon tea table set forth with
lruit and cooling beverages, and a young
and attractive pair of people luxuriously
disposed to enjoy their beautiful sur
roundings and each other’s society.
It was a reality doilbly fair in the eyes
of the young man, who was exchanging
for it the monotony of business routine
in the dusty city. Not that his lot was
a hard one. An only son in business
with his prosperous father is in the ma
jonty of cases rather overpaid than over
worked; still, such a day, such a situa
tion, and such a companion formed an
unusual combination. It was the first
tete-a-tete that he had ever enjoyed with
her wherein the certainty of an inter
ruption was not imminent. But now—
bear now no her carriage waited at the curb to
from him; no partner all too
Brooks prornpt would come to claim his waltz,
had known for. many a day that
there wns more happiness to be found in
the society ■ of this young lady than in
that of any other, but the difference had
nat/fir shown ao plainly as now.
presently she raised a great bunch of
rare roses which lay on the couch beside
her, and held them admiringly above her
eyes. “These are the second you have
sent already 1 ” she said. “I understand
something from them.”
“So much the better,” he returned,
boldly. “I intended that you should.”
She glanced at him over her flowers,
and then fastened her eves upon them.
“I understand, she said, that you are
very “Young!” extravagant he echoed, and very young' _ 0
to the less shocking adjective. paying no heed
you foolish, I “By that
mean suppose. Howew,
the flowers pleased you, didn’t they?”
“Y 7 es; but they did not please papa.”
Ah! there was mention of that bete
noire at last. He had almost forgotten
Its existence, “Your father—is—hard
to “I please, is he not?” he said, haltingly.
think that I have heard that he was
not always quite amicably disposed
toward such as I.”
She covered her face completely with
the roses at this, but when she spoke he
could divine nothing from her manner.
‘ ‘Papa likes to have his own way,’’she said,
half apologetically. Then, seeming to
cast concealment to the winds, ‘ ‘He has
a high temper,” she confessed. “Y’ou
know some people have, but his is some¬
thing quite terrible, the storming, dearest^ raving
kind; not toward me—he is the
most devoted father in the world; but
toward young men, especially young men
who send me flowers, he is quite violent
Sometimes.”
He nodded seriously, thinking of Rad¬
ford’s fate; at least that fate should not
be his. “I shall meet Mr. Howard at
dinner, shall I not?” he asked, wishing
the flowers in Jericho which so entirely
concealed her face. “I suppose that if a
man conducts himself like a gentleman in
his presence he is treated like one.”
“Oh, certainly—that is, sometimes—
nearly always. But he has been asking
a great many questions about you since
these came. He says that he has known
your father all his life, and has always
admired him. Still, papa is hard to
please; although he likes your father he
may not like you. You are not your
father, you know.”
“And you are not yours,thank heaven;
so let us dismiss the subject, and defer
the evil hour as long as possible. Will
you put down those roses, or shall I take
them?” He stretched forth a hand toward
them, but she avoided it.
“Y’ou have not told me a word about
the wedding,” she said, hastily; “I am
dying to hear about it. Begin at once. ”
“ 0h > certainly,” he acquiesced, with
reckless gayety. “The spinster and the
bachelor will now discuss the wedding.
As you know, I was one of the ushers,and
if you have ever been glad that you are a
young lady, continue to rejoice, for no
one can turn you into an usher.”
“i s it hard work?” she asked,
“Do not tell me that you have ever
attended a wedding without seeing that
it must be drudgery. Imagine a fellow
—shall I start there, or go back to the
very beginning?”
“The beginffing of your existence, do
you mean?” she asked, laughing
“The beginning of the wedding,” he
answered, with lofty majesty, “I am
too young to have a past.”
“So you arc. The weddino-, then;
and do yottr very best this afternoon; be
entertaining, forlying still for so long in
clines one to blue dragons of the bluest
kind, and I want you to fight them off
forme.”
“St. George for England!” he cried,
Laughing. “The fight begins! Imagine
a church, large, gray, a trifle damp per
haps, lights turned low, but over all a
gala air. The chancel is decorated in its
white garments, and forty million roses
throw their beauty and fragrance over all;
together with potted things, of course,
palms and hydrangeas, tall lilies and
miles of smilax.” -
“Smilax in pots?”
“No, not in pots, but everywhere else.
Enormous candelabra stand, about, lighted
and festooned with greenery, 'and high
above everything is a great crescent made
with twinkling lights like little stars.
Now! Enter eight conspirators! I am
one. The sexton is there to admit us;
the organist and a few favored friends
| are already in the loft. A mob besieges
every one of the doors. That is the
stuffing of the assembly, so to speak:
without it the nooks and crannies which
one could not fill with invited gueits
would be vacant, and give the cheerless
look which lights and flowers could not
soften. Now we admit this stuffing, and
it tears its component parts to shreds' try
ing for places from which to see. Good!
The nooks and crannies are filled, and
still they come. They are vandals. Thev
stand up in their seats; they walk up
each other’s skirts. These are ladies, ladies'
you understand [ at least they were
until the rumor of a wedding turned
them centuries back into barbarians.”
“Splendid!”interrupted the audience,
laughing. “YTby do you not report for
the papers?”
“Too young/’ he answered, drviy. “I
must have experience first.”
“1 am blighted by your sarcasm!” she
cried, continuiig to laugh, = “Please ex
cuse me for liting, and go on with the
story.”
“Listen, thdi, for the plot thickens,
The organist is playing and leaving off
at his pleasure; and any ingredient of the
stuffing would,’at this moment of excite
ment, be willisg to stand upon the fore
head of its fainting neighbor to get a
better view. Present!} we are summoned
to the vestibule. The bride has arrived,
Miss Waldron has eight bridemaids in
green, and a special (your substitute) in
pink, who walks in beside her. They all
have bouquets as large as hay-sticks, and
are positively silent with fright. Now_
wraps off! Here we weeding wo! ‘Doo 1 doo'
dy-doo!’ That is the march as
performed upon the organ; ’then it must go
through that once, ami the doors
are thrown hack; All the people in the
church turn wrohg side before, and those
at the sides sway forward, giving an ap
pearance of the'walls falling In. We
leave four pews between each two of us,
and six between the last pair of bride
maids and the bride and special. No one
comes after the bride, which is fortunate,
as her dress is no less than a mile long
behind. We reach the chancel steps; the
eight maids in blue slide before us eight
youths in black. The bride and her
special are next the rail, as per rehearsal,
Miller and young Waldron are there ready
to receive them. ‘Wur-r-r-r!’ thatis the
service.”
“Don’t be flippant, ” said the audi¬
ence “I reprovingly,
give you my word that was all that
I heard of it. The organ continues to
play softly ; the bride gives her hay-stack
to the special, apd ‘wur-r-r’ on it goes.
There is some juggling with the ring,
and the bride's hrother-in-iaw nearly dies
of stage fright as he gives her away.
Now they kueg/. Well done! I see the
benediction. UprtgSST Doom The
organ roars its loudest, and the bride
faces about without turning her train
under side up, which is the master-stroke
of the performance, and sails down the
aisle, Miller and all, while the crowd
simply grinds itself to little bits and goes
away piecemeal.”
“I think you are very frivolous,” she
commented, laughing.
“And I think that you are very un¬
grateful. Have I not amused you and
fought your blues with might and main?”
“Y’es, certainly; but—”
“Do not distress yourself over my
frivolity; it was a frivolous wedding. No
single person there was awed or even
serious—not one. The bride was obliged
to count the pews and be careful that her
train did not turn over. As for the
crowd, they could hear nothing, and de¬
voted themselves to trying to see, that
they might not have come entirely in
vain. We had two rehearsals’ and I do
assure you that the service is the very
least part of the whole.”
“I should not wish any one to say that
of my wedding,’'she confessed, seriously.
“Nor I,” he assented, speaking as
seriously, but with a daring light in his
eyes. “I shall try to have a very differ¬
ent kind if you approve.”
Five minutes later the grating of car¬
riage wheels on the gravel drive at the
other side of the house made itself heard,
succeeded by hasty footsteps, which fol¬
lowed the sound of a calling voice.
“Papa, papa,” cried the voice, “come
here! come here as quickly as you can.
Papa, this is Air. Brooks, and be has
asked me to marry him, and he kissed
me, and won’t say that he is sorry. Tell
him your opinion of such conduct.”
There was an instance of silence. A
stern, steady gaze on the part of the
older man; a firm front and a stead}’ gaze
on that of the younger. Then this ter¬
rible father, this tyrant with a violent
temper, turned quietly toward his child
and took her hand in his.
“Tell me what you think of the re¬
quest, little daughter,” will he said, bending
over her, “ail tell Mv. Brooks what
I think of the other.”
“Y’ou behaved magnificently,” she said
to her accepted suitor. “If you had
seemed a bit afraid, I should have been
•provoked with myself for caring for you.
You ’See I have never had a man friend
'who was not in terror if papa showed his
face. Just, because papa is splendid and
silent, they fairly grovel before him. So
when I found that you did not quake at
the monstrous idea you had formed of him,
I was tempted to see if you could be
made to quake. It was a test, but I was
011 y° ur n11 the time, hoping that
you would win.”
,“ A kind of fairy-tale ending,” he
said, laughing. “If the young man
guesses the riddle he marries the princess;
d no “ ' vbb b * s bcat ^■ ’
“With the difference that this young
man would bave ma ™; d tbe princess in
en< ^ whether he , liad guessed the rid
die or not. Still I likatke fairy-tale end
be ‘‘ us bo P e for that by all means,
J?° 3 0U know -(vbat ltbs ? ‘And they all
Dved happily ever alter.’’ Harpers
Bazar..
-
Convicts and Etr Diseases.
In twenty-eight observations female on eighty-two male
and convicts, Dr.
Gradenigo, of Turin, hits found them
more liable to ear diseases than law
abiding citizens, bu has detected no con¬
stant relation bei »'« n the obtuseness of
touch, taste and sn|sll, so common in
convicts, and the sharpness of vision
credited them.
BUDGET OF FUN.
HUMOROUS SKETCHES FR03I
VARIOUS SOURCES.
Fair Play—Adolphus and the Clock
Amended Generosity—An Eye
to the Fnture—A Danger¬
ous Appointment, Etc.
Ah, And husband, do not scold your wife
make her poor heart ache,
Because she can’t build pies like those
Your mother used to make.
That is unless you're quite prepared
To see the whole thing through,
And buy her hats and dresses as
Her father used to do.
—Ripley Tribute.
adolphus and the cloce.
“Pa” she called up stairs, “this clock
down here in the hall isn’t going.”
“It isn’t, eh?” he returned; “well,
don't let that be an example to Adol¬
phus.”
AMENDED GENEROSITY.
in Mr. De Groot—“Everything I’ve got
the world is yours, Alice, if you’ll
only say the word.”
Little Tommy (from outside)—“They’s
one thing you won’t get unless your
young man hurries. His boss just run
away.”
AN EYE TO THE FUTURE.
1 'll ell, Johnny, I will forgive . you this
time; and it's very pretty of you to write
a letter to say you are sorry.”
“Yes, ma; but don’t tear it U P,
please.”
“Why, Johnny?”
“Because it will do for next time.”
a dangerous employment.
Ferguson “I am in awfully hard
luck, Blakely; I can’t get my life in
sured -
Blakely “Why not? Heart disease? _ _ ’
Ferguson “No; only I have become
a baseball umpire .”—Few York Tribune,
A TYPICAL SMALL BOY.
Brown—“So your mother promised
you a piece of cake if you were good?”
Little Johnnie—“Y’es.”
Brown—“Well, then, whv are you so
bad?”
Little Johnnie—“ ’Cause she gave me
the cake beforehand .—New York Sun.
TOMMY STRIKES A MYSTERY.
“31a, I’m puzzled,” observed Tommy,
aged four, at the tea-table.
“What puzzles you?” asked the
mother.
“How did Air. Brown's scarf-pin get
in sister Belle’s hair last night, and none
of 'em knowed it but me ?”—Binghamton
Republican.
HE WAS GRATEFUL TO THE DOCTOR.
Doctor—“Well, ’Squire, and your
good lady! What effect has mv pre
scription had on her sore throat?”
The ’Squire—“Alagical, Doctor, mag
ical. I owe you the most heartfelt
thanks. For some time past she has only
been able to speak with difficultv, but
now she can’t talk at all.”— Pick-Me-Up.
A VINDICTIVE WISH.
“Air. Alurphy,” said Danny Cahill, “is
that you thot's learnin’ to play the trom¬
bone?”
“It’s meself, sure enough.”
“Well, there’s only wan thing I wisn
yez.”
“Phwat's that?”
“Alay yex live to play yer own funeral
march.”
A FORCED COMPLEMENT.
Irate Citizen—“Who wrote that, arti
cle about me in to-day’s paper?”
AlanagingEditor—“Our horse editor
t-lie gentleman sitting there in the corner
with the bull-dog in his lap and the
double chin on his biceps.”
Citizen—“Shake, sir! Y’ou have a
mighty good style .”—Burlington Free
Press.
HE COULD USE IT.
“I tliiak -we shall have to try a^ain,”
remarked the photographer as'he
’
cally examined - the negative. “The ex¬
pression is too stern and forbidding.”
“That negative is all right," said the
customer, picking up his hat. “Ail I
wanted was a portrait to send to my
wife’s aunt. She’s thinking of
Us.”— ■Chicago Tribune.
NEEDED A NABCOTIC.
“Hair-cut
“No only ruin! a shave”
“Bay sir? Your face looks a
little rou^h ”
‘ ‘Yes, vou shaved me last week. Have
I mv choice of liquids?”
“Certainly sir ”
“Then give me a little chloroform be
fore you begin, please !”—Boston Courier,
THE SEAT OF AFFECTION'.
His Intended—“Aunt Jennie says that
the seat of a man's affections is not in his
heart at all, but in his stomach. It isn’t
true of you, though, is it dear?”
Her Intended—“No, indeed, my -an¬
gel.”
His Intended—“Then a little ice
cream would not have a chilling effect on
your love for me, would it, dear?”—
Terre Haute Express.
HE MADE A MISTAKE.
He— 1 “My dear Aliss Angel, will you
not partake of just a little pale, pink
cream and one bonbon, which I fear will
not be so exquisite as you are accustomed
to in Boston.’
She—‘ ‘What a break! I am not from
Boston. I live in Kansas City.”
“Well, lam a fish. Here, waiter bring
us a double order of pork chops and
some turnips with the peeling on.”—.
Omaha World.
HAPPY CREDITORS.
Lieutenant Habenichts (who owes
everybody)—“Ah, my Miss Goldbird,
now many could be made happy by this
little hand.”
Miss Goldbird (an heiress)—“Many!
I thought only one could be made happy
by my hand.”
“Not if you give me your hand, Miaa
Goldbird.”
[He was thinking of his numerous
creditors.]— Siftings.
THE PRICE OP ROYALTY.
Sirs. Smith—“Yes, my daughter Lucy
married a blacksmith, and they have a
nice home and are getting along nicely.
Mary married a butcher and is very com¬
fortably provided for. Jennie married
a section hand and they are happily situ¬
ated.”
Mrs. Jones—“And your daughter
Gladys?”
Mrs. Smith—“Alas! she married a
foreign nobleman. I send her $2 per
week and some discarded dresses, and
by ^king in washing she manages to
’Jpport the family. —Omaha World.
LOST IUS PLACE.
“So you be studying law, Jones?”
“Yes.”
“Like it?”
“No, sir-ree!”
“How is that?”
“Well, I’d read about half through
Blackstone.”
“Yes.”
“Had a bookmark to keep mv place.”
• “Y’es.”
j “Some find one stole the bookmark. I
j couldn't my place and had to go
! clear back to the beginning and read the
dratted book all over again !”—Boston
Courier.
A POETIC CRANK.
1 -Is this the place where you get licen¬
ses?” asked a long haired, seedy looking
man as he entered one of the offices of
government.
Yt=
“Well, I want a poetic license.”
^-hat?”
“A poetic license. You see the editors
have been finding fault with my poetry;
thev say that mv rhvmes are two awkward
and'far fetched', i told one of them that
that was poetic license.”
“What didhe say?”
“He said I ought to get my license re
newed. That's what I’m here for.”—
Merchant Traveler.
! THOUGHT THE COFFIN LID TRUTHFUL.
An Irishman was ordered to make a
coffin, which he did, and to paint the
inscription on the lid, which he did after
a fashion which caused a little excite
ment in the church-yard. By dint of fol
! lowing the written copy, he managed to
! get ns far as “Michael O’Bafferty, aged
-”; but, try as he would, he could
not imitate the twenty-eight. At last,
j he remembered that he could write seven,
and that four sevens made twenty-eight.
So he finished it. When they came to
bury Alichael, the coffin stood at the
grave-side, and the priest spoke as fol¬
lows: “Ah, he was a fine lad. He’s
btog there so still, taken away in the
prime of loife. Young he was, too, only
--” Here the priest looked down at
the coffin-plate to see how old Michael
was. “He was only,” said his reverence
a N<un, and he put his glasses on and went
nearer, to see how old he really was, “he
was only,” he continued, “seven thou¬
sand seven hundred and seventy-seven
years old.”— Argonaut.
AS SHARP AS THE LAWYER.
An old plasterer is called upon to give
| evidence lor the plaintiff. Counsel for
the defendant tries to bully him.
! ■ “Your name is John Smith?”
‘•Y’es. ‘
‘ ‘Are you the same John Smith that
was sentenced to eight years’ imprison¬
ment for using bad language?”
“No.”
••Are you the same John Smith who
was sentenced to a couple of years’ hard
labor for theft?”
“No, that wasn't me, either.”
‘ ‘Then you have never been in prison?”
“Y’es, twice.”
“Ah' and how long the first time?”
“One whole afternoon.”
“What!-and the second time?”
“Only one hour.”
“And pray, what offence had youcom
mltt ed to ± deserve so small a punishment?”
“I T was sent to prison to whitewash a
cell to accommodate a lawyer who had
cheated one of his clients.”
(Cross-examination collapsed.)— Lon¬
don Tit-Bits.
■
HER FIRST CLASS IN' DRAWING.
She had endeavored to draw a picture
of the favorite pet of humanity, the dog,
and as she stood before her enthralled
audience she wore that serene and
™phant expression that is seldom
found, except ou the countenances of a
cr ™ d ° f bo ^. oa
bora bbud kAte[ “ She thought
she had , a dead sure thing of it.
! “ Wbat is it? " asked, and £imub
i ’ aac ^ sly tW0 SCore of hands went Up ln
“First boy may answer.”
“A cow. Miss Gertrude!”
“Next!” said the teacher, amazed at
his stupidity.
“A horse!”
“Next!” very much disappointed.
“An elephant!”
“Next!” and from that on her stock in
: her own artistic ability fell rapidly a point
: at a time.
“Next!”
“A cat.”
This last guess afforded some hope,but
the next—
“A bird”—-was way off, and she was
disgusted. She swept the chalky mon
strosity from the face of existence, and
turning to her innocent tormentors, she
asked, with the tone and air of a martyr
to unappreciated art:
“Now, children, what shall I draw
you?”
Again the hands went up. She picked
out one innocent-looking cherub, whom
she knew could have no evil designs upon
her, and said; “This little boy may
answer.”
“Ph, Aliss Gertrude!” said the en
thusiastic young critic, “won’t you please,
please, American, please draw us a dog!”— Baltimore
Subscription: $f.25 in Mim,
—*
THE CRY OF THE DREAMER.
I am tired of planning and toiling,
In the crowded hives of men;
Heart weary of building and spoiling.
And spoiling and building again.
And I long for the dear old river
Where I dreamed my youth away;
For a dreamer lives forever,
And a toiler dies in s day.
I am sick of the showy seeming
Of a life that is half a lie;
Of the faces lined with scheming, ’
In the throng that hurries by,
From the sleepless thoughts endeavor,
I would go where the children play,
For a dreamer lives forever,
And a toiler dies in a day.
I feel no pride, but pity
For the burdens the rich endure;
There is nothing sweet in the city
But the patient lives of the poor,
Oh, the little hands so skillful,
And the child mind choked with weeds.
The daughter's heart grows willful,
And the father’s heart that bleeds.
No, no! from the street’s rude bustle;
From trophies of mart and stage,
I would fly to the wood’s low rustle,
And the meadow’s kindly page.
Let me dream as of old by the river,
And be loved for the dream ai way,
Fora dreamer lives forever,
And a toiler dies in a day.
—John Boyle Of Reilly.
PITH AND POINT.
Dining room—An empty stomach.
A man experiences “that sinking feel¬
ing” when he falls overboard.
A Burlington girl who has refused
eleven suitors is fond of saying that all
men are brothers .—Burlington Free Press.
“Have you any children ?” asked the
landlord. “None but a goat,” was the
reply. “All right; you can have the
house .”—Boston Courier.
The proof of the pudding is in the eat¬
ing, and then it is too late to correct any
typographical errors that may be discov¬
ered.— Harper's Bazar,
When “Lo” puts on his daubs of red
’Tis for remembrance; that is clear,
Since, truthfully, it may be said
To be a sort of Sioux Veneer.
—Philadelphia Press.
“My dear friend, I am in despair.
Alma’s heart is as hard as steel.” “Sup¬
pose you try it with diamonds; they are
harder than steel, you know.”— Fliegen.it
Blaetter.
Bride—“George, dear, when we reach
town let us try to avoid leaving the im¬
pression that we are newly married.”
“AM right, Maud; you can. lug this
valise .”—Nebraska State Journal.
He's like a gun, this hotel guest
Whose bill has been enlarged, kick
Because he’s very apt to
When he is overcharged.
—San Francisco Bulletin.
Airs. Gabble—“What an awfully wor¬
ried, anxious, despairing look Airs. Good
soul has.” Airs. Dabble—“Yes, I guess
she’s stopped doing her own work and
has gone to keeDing a girl .”—New York
Weekly.
It nearly killed the jeweler,
It came so unawares:
But the other fellow little cared.
His spectacles had sadly fared,
And so he said: ‘ ‘Are you prepared
To mount the golden stares?’
—Philadelphia Press.
Scene, Inn: Prince Hal (angrily)—
“Go off, Pistol! go off!” Pistol —
“Thanks, your highness. I’m glad to
be discharged. ” (Claps cap on his head).
Prince—“Off with your cap, rogue.
Where’s your manners?” Falstaff—“Par¬
don most merry Prince, but how can a
pistol go off without a cap?” (Princ3
Hal faints: Pistol explodes R. U. E.)
Curtain — slow music. — Philadelphia,
Press.
A Long Wait for Pie.
Here is a good story from Marshall P.
Wilder's book, “People I’ve Smiled
With;” Buck Taylor, one of Bill's Wild
West Company, was immensely popular
over in England, and Bill told a story
about him appropos of the tradition?/
fondness for pie. Buck is very fond of
pie. Bill took Buck to breakfast with
him one morning in Chicago. They were
at one of the best hotels in the city, and
Buck, after eating his breakfast, said to
the waiter: “Now, bring me some pie.”
The waiter was a girl, and she almost
shook the beautiful crimps off her fore¬
head as she tossed her head and replied
contemptuously: “We don’t have pie for
breakfast.” “Oh, is that so?” said Buck;
“well, when do you have it?” “At din
ner, sir.” “Well, when is dinner?
“Twelveo’clock, sir.” “All right,’’said
he; “I guess I’ll stay here and wait for
it.” And there at that table sat Buck
Taylor, solitary and alone, from the time
that the breakfast dishes were cleared
away until dinner was served. Aft.
Bill told this story Buck Taylor uev
again lacked pie for breakfast, hincheo
dinner and afternoon lunch, supper or
midnight meal, so long as he was in
England.
The Storks iu Holland,
Everyone knows that the stork is al¬
most superstitiously beloved by the peas¬
ants of northern Germany and the low
countries, and that iron supports upon
which he may build his nest are set on
cottage gables in the belief that where
a stork has his brood fire will never
come. Nevertheless, travelers are often
surprised when they see how tame the
great birds become, following the agri¬
culturist through field and furrow, and
often sleeping on one tall red leg close
to where he is at work, and within sound
of the rumble of the passing railroad
train. So fond is the Dutchman of
having storks about him, indeed, that he
makes provision for its nests even in the
centre of his bulb-fields. Here one may
often see slender poles some twenty or
thirty feet in length, supported by
braces, and bearing at the top a small
round platform similarly strengthened.
On these the storks build their nests,
and here they perch, like sentinels, pro¬
tecting the beautiful crops.
Five hundred women in Tokio and Yo¬
kohama have subscribed to a fund for
the purchase of a handsome bible to be
presented to the empress of Japan.