Newspaper Page Text
Fort Valley Leader,
FORT VALLEY, GA.
Tho development of the industries ot
the South is shown in the fact that it
now has 1,200,000 more spindles than it
had eleven years ago.
In the interior of Cuba railroad trains
never run at night, and conductors are
obliging in the matter of waiting at sta¬
tions to enable a passenger to get his
dinner.
Recent statistics show that in Euro¬
pean countries where the telephone is in
the hands of the State a large proportion
of the inhabitants use it. In Norway,
Sweden, Switzerland, and Germany, for
example, from 100 to 400 persons in
every 100,000 of the population are sub¬
scribers.
In Norway in tno rural districts the
court of conciliation is a popular institu-
Oil. It consists of two men annually
elected in each school district before
•whom all quarrels and complaints are
laid. The court holds secret sessions
_
any lawyers, and seveuty-tivo
,
^Bnt. Hi of the cases carried there art
and not taken into the regulai
Bgardless of its possible effect on the
let the London World manes this bold
•rtion: “The Bank of England com¬
ps unfavorably with any fairly-man-
■joiut-stock company iu the qualifi-
K and status of its directors, in tho
■in of its shareholders, in its modes
Hasacting business, and in its yield
■proprietary. Judged by any stau-
f short of fetish worship, it is a
Itlv overrated institution, which fails
limply Bvould with modern requirements,
find it difficult to defend its
Hds and practice against ordinary
Hording to the United States Censu-
BPerage number of persons iu the
BPhilies of iron, steel and coal workers
in tbe United States is five. The aver¬
age annual earnings of these families is
§534.53. The average rent paid by
workers’ families is §74.58 a year. The
average cost of food for one family foi
one year is §246.65, or §48.60 pier indi-
vidual; or, allowing three meals % day
on every one of the 365 days in the year
—for each member of the family, a trifle
less than four and a half cents per meal.
The worker’s clothes cost him §35.72,
his wife’s clothes §24.28, and his chil¬
dren’s §53.91. Fuel cost* §25.55, and
lights §4,57. Sickness apd death ^ost
§21.12, and taxes §6.44. This, figures
the New York Dispatch, leaves the head
of the family §44.65 for new furniture
and household articles, books, papers,
amusements and vacations.
According to the Railway Aqe every
day in the year • seventeen persons are
killed and seventy-two others are injured
on the railways of the United States.
This is the dreadful story told by taking
the daily average c£ the railway casualties
shown in the last annual statement by the
statistician of the Interstate Commerce
Commission. These figures include em¬
ployes and passengers and also the many
thousands of other persons (numbering
in that year 3584 killed and 4200injured)
who meet their fate at street and road
crossings or otherwise on railway tracks
or trains, being neither passengers or
employes. But, deducting all these and
the actual passengers, we still find that,
on the average, every day sees almost
seven railway employes killed and over
slxty-one injured. Railroading is dan¬
gerous business, but so frightful a record
of suffering and death as this ought not
to be possible. How to diminish it is
now the earnest study of all railway
managements.
The following are some interesting
United States coal statistics recently
compiled: The total product of last year
was «J41,229,513 tons. Of this quantity
45,600,487 tons were anthracite—all
from Pennsylvania, except 2000 tons
from New England and 53,517 tons from
Colorado and New Mexico. The bitu
minous product yearly is about 95,625,-
000, or more than twice that of anthra
cite. The annual output ha3 nearly
doubled in ten years. The coal industry
furnishes employment to 300,000 per¬
sons, to whom §10,000,000 is paid in
wages, and the capital invested is esti¬
mated at §350,000,000. The output of
different States is as follows: Pennsylva¬
nia, nearly 82,000,000 tons; Illinois,
13,000,000; Ohio, 10,000,000; West
Virginia, 7,000,000; Iowa, 4,500,000;
Alabama, 4,000,000- Maryland, Indi¬
ana, Kentucky and Missouri, 3,000,000;
and Tennessee, 2,000,000. Other States
have a smaller output. More than
twenty-five per cent, of the freight of
tbe country is coal. In 1889 the aver¬
age price per ton of coal at the mines
was ninety-nine cents tor bituminous
and $1.44 for authracite. The demand
for coal iu all parts of the country is im¬
proving, and it is taking the place of
wood as fuel in remote sections.
Political prophets say it is safe to
count on a graud war iu Europe before
nuy of the monarchs are a year older.
United States Minister Phelps is credi¬
ted by the New York Mail and Express,
with having made American corn bread
tho gastronomic fad in Berlin. It is a
“specialty" with Berlin bakers.
David A. Wells, statistician, has just
worked out an article showing that the
Government has now stored away enough
silver to make a column one foot in di¬
ameter and six and a half miles high.
A traveler in Japan says that the Jap¬
anese dislike the Russians and the Chin¬
ese, but like the Americans and the
English. They are fearful of tho aggres¬
sions of the Russians in Corea and of the
Chinese in the islands that lie south of
Japan; but they do not look for any act
of aggression by the United States or by
England.
Experts are predicting that the books
of to-day will fall to pieces before tho
middle of the next century. The paper
in the books that have survived two or
three centuries was made by hand of
honest rags and without the use of strong
chemicals, while the ink was made of
nut galls. To-day much of tho paper
for books is made, at least in part, of
wood pulp treated with powerful acids,
while the ink is a compound of various
substances naturally at war with the
flimsy paper upon which it is laid. The
printing of two centuries ago has im¬
proved with age; that of to-day, it is
feared, will within fifty years have eaten
its way through the pages upon which it
is impressed. A heartless publisher who
threw out this hint added the sardonic
comment that the question was highly
unimportant to the great majority of au¬
thors.
In Maine, a State of vast forests, ac¬
cording to a Bangor newspaper, the use
of wood for fuel is steadily diminishing,
and coal from the Pennsylvania mines is
taking its place. Stove dealers report
that they sell more and more stoves with
coal fixings every year, and the falling
off in the consumption of wood has been
so great of late that cord wood .can . be
had much cheaper than twenty years ago.
At the same time the price of coal has
been falling, until now, in a large num¬
ber of places, a greater amount of heat
for a given sum of money can be ob¬
tained from coal than from wood. One
effect of this change, of course, is to ar¬
rest the destruction of the forests. The
substitution of coal for wood has*already
gone far enough to make an appreciable
difference in the number of trees which
must be felled each year to furnish heat
for the household.
It is interesting to note, confesses the
Chicago News, how electricity is pene¬
trating, in some shape or other, every
corner of the civilized globe. At the
annual soldiers’ exhibition at Poona,
India, one of the exhibits was a small
electric punkah for hanging inside mos¬
quito curtains. Those who have lived
in the tropics have lively recollections ol
sleepless nights in which the question
uppermost in the mind was whether the
stifling heat inside the mosquito curtain
or the mosquitoes themselves were the
most unendurable, and to such the idea
of the tiny electric punkah will appeal
with grateful force. Attached to it is a
small clock and an electric light. The
instrument is the invention of an officer.
Among the other exhibits was a remark¬
able clever model of a stationary engine,
made in India by a British private, and a
sowar of the Second Bombay cavalry con¬
tributed some very handsome designs for
electric lamps, constructed of bent brass,
after English models, in which the
workmanship was excellent.
Commander W. W. Mead, of the
United States Navy, who was on duty in
Bering Sea during last summer, does not
think the regulations for the protection
of the seals were altogether a success.
The law provides that before a vessel is
captured it must be warned to leave the
sealing waters. A United States officer
boards the vessel, demands her register,
enters upon it the date of his inspec¬
tion and the latitude and longitude, and
takes an invoice of the cargo. If the
sealer is found a second time, and she
has seals or skins on board in excess of
those marked in the invoice first made,
confiscation follows. Says Commissioner
Mead: “The sealers knew of the law,
and made it a point to avoid being
warned, and in this way many of them
secured good catches. As a rule, they
left on being warned, as the nine Gov¬
ernment boats each had a list of all the
ships, and the penalty, in case of cap¬
ture, was much feared, being a confisca¬
tion. Vessels that were boarded had
green skins in numbers ranging from
600 to 700. A cargo is from 3000 to
4000 skins, so you can see that a lucky
ship did a good business before being
warned; indeed, some vessels were so
good at escaping the warning that they
did not receive their notification until
the season was practically over.”
THE SWEETNESS OP LIFE.
It fell on a day I was happy,
And the winds, the convex sky,
The flowers and the beasts in the meadow
Seemed happy even as I,
And I stretched my hands to the meadow.
To the bird, the beast, the tree;
“Why are ye all so happy?"
I cried, and they answered me.
What sayest thou, oh meadow.
That stretchest so wide, so far,
Thnt none can say how many
Thy misty marguerites are?
And what say ye, red roses,
That o’er the sun-blanched wall
From your high black-shadowed trefiB
Like flame or blood-drops fall?
“We are born, we are reared, and we
linger
A various space, and die, s
We dream, and are bright and happy,
But we cannot answer why.”
What sayest thou, oh shadow,
That from the dreaming hill
All down the broadening valley
Liest so sharp and still?
And thou, oh murmuring brooklet,
Whereby in the noonday gleam
The loosestrife burns like ruby,
And the branched asters dream?
“We are born, wa are reared, and we
linger
A various space and die;
We dream, and are vary happy.
But we cannot answer why.”
And then of myself I questioned,
That like a ghost the while
Stood from rae and calmly answered
With slow and curious smile:
“Thou art born as the flowers and wilt Hager
Thine own short space and die?
Thou dreamst and art strangely happy,'
But thou canst not answer why.”
—Arch. Lampman, in Youth's Companion.
The Storv of a Mortgage.
BY LEROY ARMSTRONG.
In the first place, the mortgage never
should have been made.
Ben Morgan was one of your “active
men,” one of the class termed “hus¬
tlers” in these years of new word Coin-
ings. He was in some regards a 'brill¬
iant man. .People said he could make
money at anything. He had no regular
business aside from the farm, but he was
thrifty, alert and fortunate. Sometimes
he had thousands of dollars on hand;
sometimes he had to borrow. It was on
one of these latter occasions that he put
tho mortgage on the farm. It was the
first time he had ever done such a thing.
Perhaps if Sam Morgan, his onlyyson,
who was away at school in the State
University—had not fallen into trouble,
the loan would never have been made.
But it would have been better and kinder
and wiser to have asked Sam to pajmhe
fiddler, since he had insisted on danc¬
ing.
However, there was the mortgage, and
there it had been since the fatal Novem¬
ber 26, 1886. Mrs. Morgan didn’t really
understand what it meant when she had
signed the paper. She was suffmng
keenly, silently; as only the a knowledge mother tll^^>:V4 c^wind l
over i
bad been expelled. She knew very little
of her husband’s business. He never
talked of it much, to her or any one.
She never knew what he did with the
money, but she knew by his sleeplessuess,
by his evident mood of apprehension, by
the puzzled expression, by the sobered
face, and finally by the hopeless return
one night, that affairs had not pros¬
pered. bedside
She sat by his that early win¬
ter, she gave the medicine all through
that season of illness, she followed him
over the frozen ground when they buried
him in January.
And then she came home and tried to
take up his burden in addition to her
own.
Fanny was eighteen, and almost out
of high school. Madge was three years
younger and would not be consoled.
Allau was twelve, and resolute fo help
his mother.
1 First she sold the pony to pay the
doctor’s bill, and Fanny walked to town
each morning and home each night.
Then she sold some of the cattle, for the
feed was running short as the spring ap¬
proached. Then she rented most of the
fields, for Allan was too small to fatm.
But the men, who gave her “one-
third in the field,” seemed to take a
very large two-thirds for themselves.
And it was not easy to meet the constant
claims which came up against the estate
during that first year. She _ wondered
thnt her husband had left nothing, and
fully believed the time would come
when some one would find a
stowed away and waiting for her.
Fanny began teaching school in the
spring of ’87. but the pay was small, and
the girl was away from home so much.
How the widow’s heart hungered for
her children; for a little of the comfort
that had gone out of her life when that
strong man laid down and died.
Madge grew restless in the loose re¬
straint, and troubled the mother not a
little. Allan worked like a Trojan in
the garden and the orchard. If it had
not been for the interest, she would have
gotten along very well.
; But there before her, less than four
years away now, was that impending
mortgage, and nothing on earth, unless
it were the hidden treasure, could ever
vanquish it.
So one year grew into two; and two
into three; and three years finally added
to tliemselves a fourth. Fanny was a
strong woman now. She had found her
footing, and the world did not daunt
her. She had proven her worth, and
her services were rewarded.
Madge had never attempted high
school. The walk was too long, and
besides, her mother could not consent to
lose her. Allan had saved a little, and
had developed some of his father’s talent
for trading. The sheep and the calves
had grown into money. He had made
more money with them. Fanny had
finished her school, and the three chil¬
dren were sitting with their mother
about the fire in the evening.
“We have just managed to five and
keep up the interest,” said Mrs. Mor-
gun. “No one but a widow can know
how the farm is stripped when the good
man dies.”
“But wo have always held together,
and we are voiy happy,” said large-
hearted Fanny.
“If it wasn’t for tho mortgage wo
would get along all right,” said Allau.
“But the mortgage is there,” sighed
mother. “We cannot meet it in any
way I can see, and next jear wo must
lose the farm.”
“Borne one is coming," said Madge.
The dog began barking in a most for¬
bidding way. He tempered the threat¬
ening tone little by little, and presently
they knew by the rapping of his tail on
the kitchen door that he knew the vis¬
itor and would welcome him.
It was ’Squire Folkstone. minute,”
“ I thought I would call a
said the farmer. He never called unless
the quarterly interest were due, and the
widow was by no means sure his visit
portended pure kindness. She remem¬
bered bow her husband had scorned the
slow, scheming old man.
“I just wanted to say a word about
cutting down trees in the woods,” he
continued, turning to Allan.
“What about it?” asked the young
man. Allan was taller and heavier than
‘Squire Folkstone. His mother noted
that with pride as she watched him front-
ing the money-lender,
“Well, you know I hold a mortgage
on the farm, and every stick of timber is
worth something.”
“Yes, but we have to have fire wood.”
“And you could get fire wood without
picking out the best red-oak trees,
couldn’t you? I was walking through
the woods the other day, and I noticed
whenever you cut down a tree you al¬
ways cut down the finest one. Now, of
course, you can’t expect to pay that
mortgage next year. The farm will
naturally fall to me, and I have a right
to see that you don’t damage me.”
There was a moment of very painful
silence. It was the heaviest cross the
widow bad had to bear. She could not
truly hope to pay off that awful mort¬
gage. The possible fortune that Ben
Morgan might have left seemed never
forthcoming. She had done the very
best she could. So had her children.
She thought of Sam, long since losi sight
of, and wished he were here to protect
his mother and save the heritage of her
children.
Allan seemed straggling with a pas¬
sion too great for his untrained control.
Presently he said:
“What business had you in the
woods?”
“Well, I had a right to see that my
property was not—”
“But this isn’t your property,” pro¬
tested Allan.
“But it will be,” said the ’squire, lift¬
ing his eyebrows and smiling a very hard
smile at the young man.
“But it won’t be,” retorted Allan.
“We are going to pay that mortgage
when it is due. Now, don’t let me
of you on this farm again till your claim
is due. I guess I will go a little farther.
You came here with a mean purpose to¬
night. I guess this house is too small
y ifu and the rest of 'us. YoS get out!
out; ’Squire Folketone?”
“Allau—” protested Mother Morgan,
but her heart flamed with the proud cer¬
tainty that he was justified.
“What—why,” began the ’squire,
rising in something like fear; lor the
youth was angry and very strong.
“Go out, I tell you. Go, or I will—”
He did not need to finish the threat.
The justice started to hi3 feet, felt be¬
hind him for the latch, opened the door
in a bewildered fashion, passed out so
hurriedly that the dog sounded another
threatening bark, and so escaped to the
highway. tim¬
“Now, what shall we do?” asked
orous Madge. replied'
“Do just what I said,” Allan;
“pay the mortgage.”
“But, my son, we have nothing to pay
it with,” said the widow. She was full
of misgivings after all.
“We will have,” said Allan.
Then they began planning. Fanny
would draw no more money till the end
of the winter term. It would be a little
inconvenient, but Allan would take the
colts and drive over after her every Fri¬
day night, and take her back to the
school every Monday morning. Madge
would help mother as she never had
helped before, and Allan would sell all
the stock that could safely be spared and
fit the farm for working as soon as spring
opened.
“I do wish Sam were here,” said
mother.
“Sam will be here when the mort¬
gage is paid and will help us celebrate,”
said hopeful Allan. “I am glad we kept
the two lower fields last fall and sowed
them in wheat.”
So day followed day, and the frost of
winter melted into the veins of spring.
“Goin’ to be most too wet to plant
corn in that field,” said 'Squire Folk¬
stone cheerfully, leaning over the fence
where Allan was heaping brush on a
patch of new ground.
“Well, mebby, mebby,” replied the
young man. “It does look cloudy now,
that’s a fact.”
But he did not desist from his work¬
ing.
“Goin’ to plow up that fall wheat,
ain’t you?” persisted the money-lender.
“No; why?”
“’Cause it’s winter killed,” replied
the ’squire. “It never can make—and
with ail this wet weather agin’ it now."
Allan was by no means sure. Boys do
not watch the seasons. But there was
one thing that armed him. It was hope.
He never flinched for a moment. He
did the best he could, and counted on
fortune to favor him. %
She did seem inclined to smile, for in
spite of the rainy February and tbe cold
March, the wheat came up splendidly.
In spite of the threatening drouth
through April, the corn ground broke
up in the best of shape, and about the
middle of the month Allan came in at
night and reported tbe fields ready for
planting. is dry
“ ‘Squire Folkstone says it too
to plant,” said Madge. “He called me
to the fence and told me so this after-
noon when ha was going homu from
town.”
“Well, we’ll plant to-morrow just the
same,” said resolute Allan. “And we’ll
want all the help you people can give
us.” Ho was filled with the zest of ac¬
tion, encouraged by the crown of man.
hood ho knew ho was earning. His
sleop was so sound up tliero iu tho little
bedroom under the roof. The nighi
fled away with such unlimping thread.
The morning came with such brimming
goblets of life in its hands. Allan was
up very early. It was to be his first crop
of corn.
That day was worth a fortune to tho
Morgan farm. It was not alone tilt
proof of Allan’s manliness, it was the
proof of Fanny's strength.
She had driven horses ever since she
was a little girl. She knew they could
not afford to hire a man. So she shaded
her face in asunbonnet and mounted the
driver's seat of the corn planter. She
drove all day through that sultry sun,
closing her lips and turuiug her eyes
from the clouds of dust that rose repeat¬
edly. Allan sat there behind her, silent,
grim, forward determined, throwing the level
and back and dropping the
chosen grains exactly in crosses.
Madge brought them a luncheon and a
mug of cold milk when the forenoon hac
half vanished. She and mother planted
the corn in the new ground, where thi
checkrower would not work.
All of that day, nearly all of the next,
and then the planting was done. Allan
took a gallon of grain from the sack at
the end of the field and planted it all in
a “king-hill.”
“That’s for good luck,” he said.
“Fanny, you’re worth as much as a
man.”
“Thank you,” said Fanny, as she
looked at her tortured hands. She was
really very tired.
“Too bad to lose all your seed that
way,” called ’Squire Folkstone, while
Allan was busy about the bar a at the
close of the day. “See that moon?
Goin’ to have two weeks of dry weather.
Besides, no one ever ought to plant corn
in the first quarter.” The boy did not
answer.
The next morning was Sunday. Allan
was roused by the rolling of thunder. He
was lulled to sleep again by the soothing
sound of rain. He only waked an hour
afterward when his mother called him.
“And the corn is all in!” she added
thankfully.
’Squire Folkstone was willing to ad¬
mit that Allan had been favored of the
weather in the r_—,ter of corn, but he
had plenty of nine to prove that this rain
was the worst possible thing on wheat.
“That long dry spell filled it with fly,
and if any of it misses the fly this rain
will fill it with rust,” he said.
“And if it comes to a good harvest it
will fill you with disappointment,”
laughed the young man.
All through the months of summer and
autumn it seemed the God of the widow
and the fatherless smiled upon them.
All through the Season when the sun
above and the earth below, when the
dews of night and the winds of dawn
were pouring their treasures into the ears
of corn afid the heads of wheVt, it seemed
that a greater hand was, doing the work,
that a greater hand had planned. Never
in all the years of his crabbed life had
old ’Squire Folkstone seen such wheat as
the harvester found on the Morgan farm.
Neverin the memory of the neighbor¬
hood had such giant stalks born such
massive ears of corn. Never had the
orchard swung such luscious treasures
above a sod so fragrant. And never had
the humbler crops of berries, plants and
potatoes so richly rewarded industry.
But these neighbors will long remem¬
ber that Fanny Morgan did a any a hard
day’s work outdoors. They will not
soon forget the sight of tender Madga
struggling bravely, if not quite effec¬
tively, with burdens that a man might
have wearied under. And none of them
can overlook the tedious days when
mother added her strength, that had
never before been tested so roughly, to
the efforts of her children.
As to Allan, he found his abundant
reward. The crops had prospered
mightly. His resolution, taken without
the aid of horoscope for the future oi
experience for the past, had been vin¬
dicated.
The summer was over, the harvest was
ended, and they have been saved.
This is a simple story. It is the story
of a year just ended, the story of a season
when the gathered sunshine of seventy-
two consecutive days have heaped their
golden treasures in our laud. It might
be easy to bring back that prodigal son
at the last day of grace, supplied with
Bon Morgan's missing treasure and let
him lift the mortgage that no hand at
home could manage. It might be easy
to draw upon the undepleted stores of
the improbable. But it is much nearer
the truth to say that these four helped
themselves, and then God tilled the
measure of their needs.— The Voice.
Oil Baths For Lead Pencils.
A new discovery has been made by
railroad clerks in Pittsburg regarding
the saving of lead pencils. This will be
a great boon to those who are continually
using expletive and borrowing poekel
knives on account of the frailty of good,
soft lead in a peucil.
Every one who has much rapid writing
to perform prefers a soft pencil, but
nothing has come to public light so fai
by which the lead can to an extent be
preserved. The P. C. O. and St. L.
clerks have brought about a new era in
the pencil business; also have they mor¬
ally benefited humanity, inasmuch as
they decrease violation of the third com¬
mandment.
The new idea to preserve a soft pencil
is to take a gross of the useful article
and place them in a jar of linseed oil.
• Allow them to remain in soak until the
oil thoroughly permeates every particle
0 f the wood and lead,
This has the effect of softening the
mineral, at the same time making it
tough and durable. It has been found
very useful and saving, an ordinary pen-
c ;i being used twice as long under the
new treatment.— Pittsburg Dispatch.
THE BATTLE OF LIFE.
Rise! for the day is passing,
And you lie dreaming on;
The others have buckled their armoir.
And forth to the fight have gone!
A place in the ranks awaits you,
Eat-h man has some part to pin-*;
The past and the future are nothing,
In the face of tho stern to-day.
Rise from your dreams of tho future
Of gaining some hard fought field
Of storming some airy fortress,
Or bidding some giant yield.
Your future has deeds of glory.
Of honor, God grant it may!
But your arm will never be stronger,
Or the need so groat as to-day.
Rise I If the past detains you,
Her sunshines and storms forget;
No chains so unworthy to hold you
As those of a vain regret; -
Sad or bright, she is lifeless forever;
Oast her phantom arms away,
Nor look bad save to learn the lesson
Of a nobler strife to-day.
Rise! for the day is passing,
The low sound that you scarcely hear
Is the enemy marching to battle.
Rise! for the foe is here!
Stay not to sharpen your weapons,
Or the hour will strike at last,
When from dreams of a coming battle
You may wake to find it past!
—Adelaide Proctor.
4
PITH AND POINT.
“I am the great corn eradicator,” re¬
marked the crow.
A tight money market often induces
loose financial operations. —Lowell Cou¬
rier.
All that most men have in the world
is what they are going to get .—Atchison
Globe.
The clergyman with a “long head” is
apt to indulge in short sermons .—Boston
Courier.
As a sole stirring invention the basti¬
nado is worthy eminent mention.— Bos¬
ton Courier.
Nothing so vividly reminds us of the
brevity of a life asthirty-day note.—
Texas Siftings.
“How do you treat a headache?"
“Politely. I just sit still and let it
ache .”—Lowell Citizen.
The best wives are the women who
are as good to their husbaiids as they are
to their children.— Atchison, Globe.
Pater (sternly)—“Now, children, I
don’t want you to get sick any more ’un¬
til that measles account is settled with
the doctor.”— Judge.
Twelve hundred and eighteen kinds
of mushrooms grow m Great Britain, not
including the mushroom aristocracy.—
Binghamton Republican.
Diplomatic Phrase. Tommy—“Paw,
what is a prevaricator?” Mr. Figg-—
“He is a liar who weighs more than
you .”—Indianapolis Journal.
“I have always wished,” “that soliloquized I could
the coronet? pensively, immediately after
have held .”-!-Pacific this office
the flood Harbor Light.
An exchange speaks of a man who “is
not a physician, but a simple druggist.”
We had supposed that a druggist was a
compound fellow .—Binghamton Leader.
He is a mighty meek maa that can
patiently hold the baby while his wife
puts in a couple of hours at the piano
learning the latest lullaby .—Indianapolis
Journal.
Rural. Gent—“What are they carry¬
ing all that garbage into that theatre
for, sonny? - ’ Messenger—“Oh, York.”’ dere
goin’ ter play de “Streets of New
Terns Siftings. *
“Man is known by the company he
keeps,” is an old axiom and as true as it
is old. If he keeps very much company
he is known to be the poorest man in the
county, soon .—National Weekly.
Hedgeroe (looking at card)—“What’s
young Brown-Smith doing with a
hyphen in his rame?” Bordfence—“Oh,
he needs it in his business. He’s gone
into society .”—Detroit Free Press.
Weary Watkins—“How would you
like to be rich?” Hungry Higgins—
“Rich? How would I like to be rich?”
Jest think o’ pie three times a day ycA
a solid gold knife to shove it in with!
Ah !”—Indianapolis Journal.
Mrs. Brink—“Mrs. Kiink! Mrs.
Kiink! Your little boy is in our yard
stoning our chickens.” Mrs. Klmk—
“Horrors'. He’ll get his feet wet in
your big, ugiy, damp grass. I don’t see
why you can’t keep your lawn mowed,
Mrs. Brink.”— St. Louis Star-Sayings.
Wife—“My dear, that horrid man
next door has killed the dog.” Hus¬
band—“Well, never mind, my dear. I’ll
get you another one some time.” Wife
—“But it wasn’t my Fido that he killed;,
it was your hunting dog.” Husband V’—New
(wildly)—“Where is my gun
York Herald.
She—“I thought I married the best
man in town, but I find I made a mis¬
take.” He—“I thought I married the
best little girl in town, and 1 find that I
was not mistaken.” She—“Forgive me,
Charlie. You know that I don't always
mean what I say.” He (sotto voce)—
“Neither do I .”—Brooklyn Life.
We must content ourselves to-day with
ancedotes of foreigners trying to express-
their thoughts in English. The latest is
told by Dean Briggs, of Harvard. A
Japanese student, desiring to impress on
the dean how studious be had been,
said: “I have worked so hard I eat
nothing since to-morrow .”—Boston
Glob:.
“And so you have decided to marry
your deceased wife’s sister, eh, Fredj”
“Yes, old man. Two years of lonliness
are all I can stand.” “Do you love her
as weil as you did your wife?” “Why,
what a question, Harry.” “I know, but
do you?” “Well, to tell you the truth,
I do not.” “Why do you marry her
then?” “Well, to tell you the truth,
agaiu, her mother is really a delightful
old lady, and I don’t feel fike taking any
chances on another er-in-law.”—>
Chicago Tribune.
