Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

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.