Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

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.