Newspaper Page Text
VOLUME VII
PROFESSIONAL CARDS.
Lawyers.
JJOBSBT A MASSEI,
Attorney at L*w«
Douglasville, Ga.
(Offlo* in front room, Dorsett** building.)
Will prMtiee anywhere exoept in the County
Court of Douglas eonnty.
W A. JAMES, ~~ 7"
Ts •
Attorney at Law,
Douglasville, Ga.
Will practice In al! the courts, State and
federal. Office on Court-house Square.
yyM. T. ROBERTS,
Attorney at I aw,
Douglasville, Ga.
Will practice in all the eonrts. All legal bus
ineee will receive prompt attention. Office in
•ourt-heuse.
£ ». CAW.’
Attorney at Law.
Civil Engineer and Surveyor,
Douglasville, Ga.
h g G. GRIGGS,
K Attorney at Law.
Douglasville, Ga
KE-’ * **
’* ■ Willjnaeiiee in all th* courts, State and
/HH M. EDGE,
Attorney at Law,
Douglaaville, Ga
W® praeMee in all tiw 4»urta. and prempt
yattend to all bustseM entrusted to his ear*.
J a JARKA
Attorney at Law,
Douglasville, Ga
Will waettae in the eonrta of Engine,
CMnpwL Carroll, Paulding. (x>bb, Fulton
Md evening eonnUee, Prompt attention
....... m.*,, i »
J 08» Y. EDGE,
>' ... ?
and Burgeon.
Douglasville, Ga
/%pwW attenife© to Surgery sad Chronic di»-
in either sex.
Office up stairs In Doroett’s brick building.
p ft. YERDEBY,
Physician and Burgeon.
Offiee at Hudson A Eds*’* drugstore, where
be ean be found at all hours, except when
prefeasionaliy ebgagvd. Special attention
given to Ohronto caaea, and especially all ease*
that have been treated and are eUU uncured.
Janie W ly
J g KMW
Phyatolaxi aatf Bvrgoaa,
ntSuS! W#B “**
a^"^XSk’ , <£! 4 ~*“ , ‘
I
a—M—IIWII —I ~„ue.ii. mire—
benum.
rp a oooi. ‘ *—
Dental Surgeon.
Was located in Douglasville. Twenty years’
•sperienw. Dckdatry in ail it* breaches dour
ssaei approved style. Otto* over po*t- !
Painter.
a sutler.
House Paintar.
Douglasville, Ga.
Wl nab* old furniture look ae well as new.
Give him a trial in this Una. Will atoo A
bows* earpeaterine work.
Knew Hie Own Tail, Anyway.
A Kansas correepoodent say*: One
noou Waldo and I were going out to
boo corn. Aa we walked over toe sod
breaking a btowsaak* rw> right in front
•f we. Waldo had his hue on bis
•boulder. and just let it drop oarelees
like on Mr. Snake and cut him in two,
pretty near the middle. The head end
ran down the furrow fifty yards very
rapidly, and disappeared. We hunted
twenty mtoutoe for U and couldn’t find
his snakeshin. When we returned io ;
< the awning I said: “Let’s look at our i
mho's tafl and see if H's dead yet; !
oaytt won’t* die till sub down.” |
Wd went there and found the head
ttkH had crawled up to the tail and
«ted ihera, to© weak to walk off with
** r
The Weekly Star.
To-Morrow.
Te sing of to-day with its pleasures and pain,
Ye sing of to-day with its sorrow.
But often “to-day" is a sad-written page,
And so I will sing of to-morrow.
To-day when the skies are rainy and dark,
Faith and courage we often would borrow,
And so we looked forward with hope and with
cheer,
And say, “twill be pleasant to-morrow."
Ob, dreary and sad the present would be
If the future no bright dreams did offer;
If no golden gleams of beauteous dreams
Shone brilliant from ‘morrow’s fair coffer.
You tell me to-morrow never will come
With its fulness of joy or of sorrow:
I trust in a world far fairer than this
1 may find my leng-dreamed-oi-to-morrow.
I think though its title be changed to to-day, ff
Even then by its absence of sorrow
I shall know In that mystical land far away
My beautiful vanished tomorrow.
A PIOUS FRAUD.
Twenty years ago there lived a wid
ow lady in the South of France, in a
seaside village called Compiegne, near
Marseilles, who had occupied the same
house for half a century, affd was es
teemed as a kind friend to the poor.
For a French lady, she was, conspi
cuously wealthy, having an income of
about eighty thousand francs a year;
and this income she had enjoyed for
fifty years, to the constant benefit of
the neighborhood in which she lived.
But the evil day came at last, and this,
too, in her old age, when she lost al
most the whole of her large property:
some said through the perfidy of her
broker; some, through rash ventures or
speculations; and some, through her
honorable desire to pay the gambling
debts of a brother who had lost his hon
or as he had lost everything else. Be
the secret what it might—and it was
never cleared up--she was so reduced
as to be practically penniless, having
sold even her jewels and her library,
and keeping nothing but her household
furniture and effects.
The house that she lived in was not
her own. She rented it from a not too
amiablo landlord. This landlord was
as much disliked in the neighborhood
as the lady was affectionately esteemed;
and when the time came that the lady
was so impoverished as to be unable
even to pay six months’ rent, the land
lord was perhaps the only man in the
whole neighborhood whose pity was
shadowed uy self-interest. He did not
so much as express sympathy with his
old tenant. Though she had paid him
a handsome rental for so long a time
—the villagers said for forty-eight
years—the landlord was a man who
had but one idea of humanity, and that
was to get his own at quarterday. Wo
must not presufim to pBV tturasuiW’- ©«
W landlord. Those are men, excel-
SjHfo, wbw-a «onc weakness Mor
such an absorbent of ail the :
| forgie ©I their character that they have
'no’capacity left for appreciating any- i
thing else, and must be regarded as ir> ‘
responsible idiots.
Now it so happened that, about a
mile from the lady s house, there lived ;
a gentleman who had grown rich by
picture-fancying. The name of this
gentleman was Monsieur Gratton. He
was considered to be one of the best
judges of pictures, not only in the
neighborhood, but in all France. His •
word fixed the vaiue of any painting.
And so wondrous was his gift of dis- <
crimination that, he had beep sent sot i
to Paris by the Government of his day J
to settle rare disputes on art subjects <
It was said of him that he could tell a i
Vernet from a Gaspar Poussin by one |
glance of his type-discerning eye; that, £
on one occasion, when, at first sight ot t
a fine picture, he was asked, “Can this
be French or Italian?” he replied in- ;
itantly, “Neither, sir; it is a George
Morland;” and that he had even
turned the jest on some art critics in ;
Vienna, who had labelled a picture
wrongly to deceive him.
.Now this gentleman, who had
amassed a largo fortune—some said
five millions of francs- by bn happy
knack of “picking up unsuspected
Ems,” was well known to the hard
idlord. and still better known to the
lady whom ill-fortune had now placed I
in the landlord's power. He hsu been
deeply grieved to hear of the lady’s re
cent troubles. And he became savage
—downright spiteful—when the news
reached bis ears that his lady-friend
was about to be “sold up.”
Without loss of a moment he called :
to see the lady. He begged her, most
respectfully, yet most earnestly, to per
mit him to defray the trifling debt !
She conld repay him, he suggested, in
a few months or years, if she preferred
a loan, and would decline to accept a
gift; but meanwhile he implored her
not to let so small a sum—not to lot so
biu all a service on his part—staud in
the way of her saving her “household
gods ” The lady was grateful, but ob
durate. If the landlord, she said must
injure anyone, it had best be that per
son who was his debtor; and, for her ;
part, she was not unhappy in the con
templation of at least honorably dis
charging a just debt.
So the worst came to the worst at ;
the appointed time. All the villagers
were full of sorrow for-the kind lady, j
Many of them dubbed together, and
tried to raise the fnil amount, which
was no more than two thousand five J
hundred francs; but the lady, when
she heard of it, instantly stopped the
•übscriplxm. and assured the good vil
lager* taat “it was ot no importance.”
’ Indeed, aha bore up so serenely under
I her sudden change of fortune that she
? might be said to be as admirable in ad-
I vswsity as she has been m her usea of
i great wealth
The data of the public sale was duly
advertised in the newspapers; and the
huge placards which were posted all
about the village ware read with tear- !
ful eywe by many villager*; “To be
•odd, by auction, oa toe morning ot
Tueaday, Seetemoer Uth. at eleven to
e’tdeeh. Iff* 1
FAWNINO TO NONE—CHARITY TO ALT,.
DOUGLASVILLE. GEORGIA. THURSDAY. OCTOBER 29,1885.
and contents of the Villa Antoinette, 1 ’
etc., was the announcement which
occasioned grief to a hundred friends,
and which aroused no little resentment
against the landlord.
Accordingly, on a fine morning in
September, just twenty years ago—in
1865—a little crowd was gathered early
round the Villa Antoinette, and not a
few persons passed within the villa.
Everyone of note, or rather everyone
who had money, was anxious to secure
some souvenir from the sale, indeed,
many persons were present, not to buy
anything for themselves, but to “buy
in” what could be bought for the kind
lady. And here it must be mentioned
& that the law of France, in regard to
sales, is more considerate and more
just than in the English law; for it is
not permitted, in a French sale by auc
tion, to sell one stick more than is re
quired to pay the debt; so that the mo
ment the exact amount is reached, the
auctioneer is obliged to lay down his
hammer. In this particular case, the
exact amount to be covered was two
thousand seven hundred and fifty
francs —the amount of the debt with
the expenses—so that it was hoped that
the really valuable furniture, including
not a few rare antiques, might not, all
of it, be scattered to the winds.
The auctioneer commenced business
at twelve o’clock. By this time most
of the rooms were quite full. There
were present —strange efiroutcry!—the
landlord of the villa, who smiled his
welcome to many a visitor who did not
love him; and also the distinguished
picture-fancier, Monsieur Gratton, of
whom mention has been made just
above. The landlord and picture-fan
cier shook hands. Why not? Hands
meet in this world when hearts are fair
i apart, just as heads are often uncover
ed by reluctant hands. “Language
was given to.conceal our thoughts,”
and politeness was given us well,
to conceal the degree of disrespect
which we may interiorly entertain for
those we greet. The landlord and the
picture-fancier lived in the same neigh
borhood. it was less trouble to be civil
than to be candid.
Yet some versons smiled when they
saw the amiable picture-fancier ex
changing normal, polite greetings with
the landlord. It had been whispered
about that “Monsieur Gratton, the
great picture-fancier, had tried to settle
this affair out of court,” and had made
overtures to the landlord—which had
not been accepted—for the pacific set
tlement of the debt without a sale. Be
tnis as it might, there was no sign of
pacification in the fact that the auc
tioneer had arrived; nor in the handing j
übout oOfriuted catalogues of the sale;'
nor in }tlie" marked “Lots” whicmtt
stared .Wervbody in the .fa«*»
; Monsieui Gratton looked blandly
I the landlord. And there was, perhaps, I
I more than a touch of irony in the voice E
I of Monsieur Gratton—who was a cult-
I ured gentleman as well as a judge of
pictures —when, saluting the hard-land
lord, he said, in his suavest tones,
“Monsieur, je votis souhaite le bon
jour.”
And now the picture-fancier moved
about the room—the room in which
the sale was to take place. Naturally,
i being a picture-fancier, he would look
< at the pictures; and be did took at
I them, with a laxy indifierencA From
: one picture to another picture ho
! passed somewhat quickly, with that
i sort of unattractedness which, if ex
i pressed in honest language, might be
! summed up in the comment, “What
I rubbish!” He had moved nearly round
f the room, with an air of calm con- U
! tempt, casting a glance on this water-
I color, ou that oil-painting, when sud
denly bis eye became arrested by some
j object which seemed to claim just his
momentary attention; and. standing
opposite a small picture, he felt for his
eye-glass, and then put it ostentatious
ly into his eye. In another minute he
had taken the picture off its stand; he
bad seated himself leisurely in an arm
chair; he was caressing the picture
with an obvious artistic interest; and
the whole room—all who were present ;
i —were observing him.
The auctioneer commenced business i
as follows: “Gentlemen, in the order
of the catalogue, the pictures stand
first for your competition. These pic- l
lures are not, perhaps, by great artists
—that is, not by artists with great
names—but you will see that they are,
all of them, good pictures. Now, here ;
we have Lot One. (Monsieur Achille, •
please torn that picture to the light, |-
and just draw the curtains back from
the windows; I thank you.) Here we
have Lot One. a really capital water- I
color by that rising young artist, Henri ;
Duran. What shall we say, gentle- I
men, for this very pretty picture?”
And the picture was knocked down i
for twenty francs.
•Lot Two,” proceeded the |
eer, swiftly, “is really a fine oil-paint- ‘
ing, by Lecroix—a grand picture! Shall :
we say two hundred francs, to begin
with?”
But sixty francs was all that “the
grand picture” could be flattered into
bringing into the treasury.
• Lot Three,” now said the auction- j
eer. after a short pause, and apparent
ly looking about toe room to discover
it “All! 1 see that Monsieur Gratton ;
is admiring it! Monsieur Gratton,”
said the now pleased auctioneer, “yon
have Lot Three in your lap, and are ’ (
caressing it! You will tell us, sir, what
you think of this picture?”
And Monsieur Gratton woke up ae ?•
from a reverie. He seemed to bare
been anconscions of the auctioneer. He
immediately handed “Lot Three, te
one of the assistants, and then relapeec i
into a calm state of indifference, as
though he bad forgotten what had in
terested him
“This » a small picture by—Ah! th*
name is not given.” continued the sue
oneer. as though inquiringly. “P*r- 1
-ap* Monsieur Gratton can oblige at ,
st teUauff u* wtee wm the wittnMr es ’
tfiis picture?”
But Monsieur Gratton simply shook
his head, negatively, signifying that ho
neither knew nor cared. The auc
tioneer therefore proceeded with the
sale.
“The title of this picture is ‘The •
First Streak of Dawn.’ W’hat shall wo
say for this clever picture?”
And no one making a bid. Monsieur
Gratton, the picture-fancier, in iaay
tones, “Fifty francs.”
“Fifty francs!” echoed the busy auc
tioneer. “Any advance, gentlemen,on
had been watching Monsieur Gratton,
and had seen that he had been greatly
struck with this little picture, stepped
forward and examined it with care.
Whether fired by admiration, or by
emufcHpg- r by greed, he decided that
make a bid. So, as
Tioohe eTse spoke, he looked at the
auctioneer, and said, somewhat bash
fully, “Sixty francs. ”
Monsieur Gratton looked at him quite
surprised. What on earth could Ae
know about a picture? After* a very
brief pause, and after one look at the
landlord, he said, with calm confidence,
"One hundred francs.”
A smile then lit the countenances of
many present And the smile became
broadened into a kind of chuckle when
the landlord, as though inspired with
a fine envy, boldly broke out into,
‘CTwo hundred francs.”
Monsieur Gratton looked annoyed,
and not good-tempered, but very quick
ly responded with, “Three hundred.”
“Fotir,” said the landlord, almost
immediately.
At this point Monsieur Gratton, who
had not left his arm-chair, rose and
walked quietly to the auctioneer, utter
ing, however, the two words, “Five
hundred,” as though he intended that
bid to be the final one.
“Six hundred,” said the landlord.
“A thousand francs,” said Monsieur
Gratton, rather peevishly, obviously
bored yrith the landlord’s interfer
ence.
“Twelve hundred.” said the land
lord.
“Fifteen,” said Monsieur Gratton.
“Two thousand francs,” cried the
landlord, while the people in the room
began to look at one another, and to
wonder what this rivalry could por
tend.
“Two thousand five hundred,” said
Monsieur Gratton, at the same time
taking the notes out of his pocket-book,
and proceeding to count them for s
settlement.
The landlord, feeling his dignity to
be at stake—at least, that was the ex
terior impression—with but litUe hesi
|a.tfott;'cap{>ed this last generous bid
I with the still more nerods offer of
hree thousandJ* I # £
“Ah, well! 4 said Monßeur Gratton,
shrugging his shoulders, and putting
his pocket-book back into his pocket,
“I really cannot bid any more.” And
he smilingly went "back to his arm
chair.
“That stops the sale,” said the auc
tioneer. sharply. And a great hubbub
of talk filled the room.
Nor had the sale lasted more than
twenty minutes. The landlord, by his
one bid tor the picture, bad fully cov
ered his tenant’s debt and the expenses,
so that alfthat had been sold of the
good lady’s property were three pic
tures, and not a stick of the furniture.
Nothing could have been more satis
factory. So the crowd now dispersed,
each one to his own home; and many a
surprise was expressed, and many a
criticism was hazarded, as to the why of
'-this spasmodic rivalry for the picture.
“Take my word for it,” said one good
villager to another, as they wended
their way home through the village
lanes, “Monsieur Gratton, the picture
fancier, knew what he was about when
he offered a good price for that picture.
He never buys a bad picture. If he
offered two thousand five hundred J
francs, that picture is worth at least
six thousand. The landlord has got
hold of a masterpiece, and Ae knew
that when Monsieur Gratton bid
high.”
“Diff you notice,” answered the oth
er, “how Monsieur Gratton looked at
the picture? Why, he took the picture
in his lap, and then he looked at the
-hack of it, and then he looked into the
comers, and then he turned the picture
upside down, and then he took a mag
nifier and seemed to look under the
frame, as though he would discover
some old writing. Depend upon it,
-4hafe«i©turs is a gem. Mon Dku ! what
It is to a thing! Now you or I
fosght have passed over that picture
and never thought it worth more than
the rest of them. These savanis, as j
they call them, are wonderful men.”
And precisely the same range of ideas ;
was passing through the mind of the
landlord as he carefully wrapped the
picture in a pmee of silk, and then
wrapped it in another soft folding. To
have outwitted a supreme judge of
turns, and to have more than covered
the full amount which was due to him
(for he intended to sell that picture for
its full value), were two satisfactions
which seemed to him to compensate
for the unpleasantness of “selling up a
widow.”
The following morning the landlord :
started early, to make a call upon Mon- ’
sieur Gratton, the picture-fancier. It (
was barely ten o’clock when the land
lord arnv. d.and he was at once shown
into the presence he desired.
s^o3sieur Gratton received him very
graciously. Monsieur Gratton. talked j
briskly, and was unusually voluble—on i
every subject save that of yesterday’s ■
sale. The more the landlord tried to •
•gead up” to that subject, the more j
ord Monsieur Gratton lead away from '
it, till at last, utterly daunted in every j
effort to “drag it in.” the landlord took :
h<« hat and was departing. But ns- ’
turn was too strong to be vanquished, j
The landlord had called with ene
hfoffltarr and Im oedM I
away withdul succeeding. So, sum
moning all his courage, as he was back
ing out of the room, and as Monsieur
Gratton was suavely bowing his adieux,
he said, abruptly—
"Oh! Monsieur Gratton, pray pardon
• me for asking you—l know I have no
business to do so —but why did you
take a fancy to that little picture?”
“Why did 1 take a fancy to that little
picture?” echoed Monsieur Gratton, as
though surprised; “that little picture!
What little picture? Ah! you mean the
little picture I wanted to buy, but
which you so unkindly took from me.
Yes, I must say I thought it shabby of
you to supplant me,” said Monsieur
Gratton, laughing gaily and good-hu
moredly.
“Now, might I ask you,” continued
the landlord, quite diffidently, “since,
of course, you Know these matters bet
ter than I do: what might be the value,
the pecuniary value, of that really very .
charming little picture?”
"Pecuniary value—that little picture
—pecuniary value!” re-echoed Mon
sieur Gratton,looking surprised; “upon
my word, I have not the smallest idea.
I am sure I never gave the subject a
thought. Pecuniary value! Oh! I dare
lay twenty francs,or twenty-five francs.
But really, I have not considered the
point judicially.”
“Twenty francs, or twenty-five
francs!” exclaimed the landlord, utter
ly unable to hide his disgust; "twenty
francs, or twenty-five francs, it’s full
value! You are jesting, Mosieur Grat
ton, you are jesting!”
"Jesting!” responded the picture
fancier, quite gravely; “why should I
jest upon such a subject? You ask me
a very simple question, and I give you
a very truthful answer.”
"Then why, sir—l say, why sir,”
asked the landlord, with suppressed
passion, “did you bid two thousand
five hundred francs for that picture?”
“Really, Monsieur le Proprietaire,”
replied Monsieur Gratton, with a grav
ity and an innocence that were quite
crushing, “you astonish me by s©
curious a question. If a man takes a
fancy to a picture, or if he wishes to
possess it as a souvenir of a kind lady
for whom he has the very highest es
teem,-mny he not bid what he likes for
it ? At least you, sir, were evidently el
that opinion 1” ______
A Centenarian.
It was here that we made the ac
quaintance of a colored woman, a
withered, bent old pensioner of the
house, whose industry (she excelled
any modern apple-parer) was unabat
ed, although she was by her own con
fession (a woman, we believe, never
owns her age till she has p&ssadJtbis
pofint) and the teatitoony of otKrs a
hundred years Bid, Bus age haff not
impaired the brightness ot her eyes,
nor the limberiiess of her tongue, nor
her shrewd good sense. She talked
freely about the want of decency and
morality in the young colored folks of
the present day. It wasn’t so when
she was a girl. Long, long time ago,
she and her husband had been sold at i
sheriff’s sale and separated, and she
never had another husband. Not that
she blamed her master so much—he
couldn't help it, he got in debt And
she expounded her philosophy about
the rich and the danger they are in.
The great trouble is that when a per
son is rich he can borrow money so
easy, and he keeps drawin’ it out of
the bank and pilin’ up the debt like
rail* on top of one another, till it needs
a ladder to get on to the pile, and then
it all comes down in a neap, and the
man has to begin on the bottom rail
again. If she’d to live her life over
again, she’d lay up money; never
cared much about till now. The
thrifty, shrewd old woman still walked
about a goodwleal, and kept her eye on
the neighborhood. Going out that
morning she had seen some fence up
the road that needed mending, and
she told Mr. Devault that she didn’t
like such shift less n ess; she didn’t know
as white folks was much better than
colored folks. Slavery? Yes, slavery
was pretty bad —she had seen five hun
dred niggers in handcuffs, all together
ic a field, sold to be sent South.—
tAarfes Dudley Warner in October At
lantic.
What a Baby Can Da
It can wear out asl pair of kid
shoes in twenty-four hours.
It can keep its father busy advertis
ing in the newspaper for a nurse.
It can occupy both sides of the lar
gest-sized bed manufactured simultan
eously.
It can cause its father to be insulted |
: by every second-class boarding-house
I keeper in the city who “never take
| children,” which in nine cases out of 1
j ten m very fortunate for the children.
It can make itself look like a fiend
just when mamma wants to know
“what a pretty baby she has.”
It han make an old bachelor in the
room adjoining use language that, if <
uttered on the street, would get him to
the penitentiary for two years.
It can go from the furthest end of *
I the room to the foot of the stairs in the j 1
i ball adjoining quicker than its mother • 1
can jus* step into the closet and out 1
: again. . <
It can go to sleep ‘‘like a little an- J 3
gel,” and just as mamma and papa ’
are starting for the theatre it can wake
: up and stay awake until the last act i
These are some things that a baby j
can do. But there are other things as J 1
well A baby can make the
est home the brightest spot on earth. > i
, It can lighten the burden* of a loving i
, mother’s life by adding to them. U "
can flatten its dirty little face against 1
the window pan* in such away that 1
the tired father can see it u a picture i
before he round* the eorner. Yea, 1
; babie* are great institution*, partico- j i
lariy use’s aw* balw. Afrimwuw (M |;
I f.) JtattpeeMttHK.
NUMBER 37
WIT AND HUMOR.
“I say, Bobby,” whispered Feather
ly, was your sister pleased to learn,
that I had called upon her?”
Prof. J. L. Sullivan is more popular
in Boston than the Puritan—and he is
only a whaling craft at that— Philadel
phia Press.
A poet sings: “1 see the flush upon
thy cheek. ”If this is the case, that
poet would do well to lay down his
band unless he can beat it.— Puck.
i l *TCes, indeed she was,” replied Bob
by. “When mother told her that Mr.
Featheriy had called while she was out
she said, “ThankHeaven!”— New York
Hun.
Neither bustles nor corsets are worn
in Japan, and when a Japanese maid
en sits down in a skating rink she
gets her money’s worth every time.—
Burlington Free Press.
Explained.—Auger (a young author)
—“There seems to be a conspiracy
against me among the publishers.”
Gimlet—“ How so?” Auger—“ They
have all of them declined the same
thing.”— Puck.
The brewer who maketh good beer
in the day and putteth a good head ou
it is better than he who drinketh the
beer at night and waketh up in the
morning with a good head on himself.
—Stockton Maverick.
There are thirteen widows living on
one street about 300 yards long in
Americus, Ga. The city authorities
propose to put up at each end of the
street a sign: “Dangerous passing.”
Somerville Journal.
Nautical husband (jokingly)—“O,
I’m the mainstay of the family.” Wife '
—“Yes, and the jibboom, and the—
and the ” Small boy (from exper
ience) —“And the spanker, too,
mamma.”— Troy Press.
Frank J. Black, the genial and bril
liant jfoung journalist who writes
about medieval theology and other lit
tle things, made us a "very pleasant
call last evening. We were not in at
the time—Pwnesufowney Tribune.
The Rev. Phillips Brooks recently
spoke <or half an hour at the rate of
213 words per minute, which proves
conclusively that there is nothing a
woman can do which a man cannot do
just as well or better.— Lowell Citizen.
Ella Wheeler sings “body and heart
seemed shaken, thrilled, and startled
by that greeting.” An enthusiastic A;
admirer thinks that some big fisteOK
fellow must have slapped Ella on the 4
back and asked her how the weather
suited her.—Aew York Journal.
“I am just as much opposed to tip
pling as anybody,” said Feaderson;
“bifo, nevertheless, liquor rightly used
is a< oieas.iig to humiuMtvA WEeuT* “
was ill last winter, 1 actually believed
it saved my life.” Fogg—“Very like- .
ly; but how does that prove that liquor
is a blessing to humanity?”— Poston
Transcript.
A well-educated young lady in Rich- ;
mond wants aposition as teacher in
Danville. She has passed the giggling
age, but is not too old to be a very •
agreeable companion, and the editor
of Viis paper can heartily recommend
her to any family desiring an intelli
gent teacher and companion.—Dan
ville (F».) Uegister.
K morning paper has this truly sen
sational heading to one of its columns:
“Edward Graul shoots a woman with
whom he was madly in love three
times.” Nothing is more common
than a man’s being in love three times,
but it is not usually with the same wo
man.—San Franciscan.
There is a growing fear among the
sentimental ladies of St. Louis society
that Maxwell may prove to be a gen
tleman, a scholar, and an innocent
man after all. If such proves to be the
case they should prosecute him for ob
taining adoration under false preten
ses.— Leavenworth (Kas.) Times.
Mias Clara Louise Kellogg has been
out West singing to enthusiastic au
diences of cowboys and miners. In re
lating her experience at Butte City,
Mias Kellogg says: “One lady came
200 miles to hear me, and said she was
well paid for toe trip." Any one who
would travel so far to hear Clara
Louise would have to be well paid.—
TAe Rambler.
"In the first place, brethren,” said a
camp-meeting orator last night, “we
must be careful of what we say, and in
the second place”—there was some
noise in the congregation caused by
people coming in and the speaker
paused—“in the second place,” re
peated the speaker, and again he
paused, and a small boy arose and
cried out: “The Allegheny* are in the
second place; Cincinnati got licked.”
—Pittsburg Chronicle-Telegraph.
Late inventions—A thunder-rod for
people who are liable to be ‘ ‘thunder
struck” on receiving unexpected intel
ligence; a grindstone for people who
are in the habit of "grinding their
teeth” when they are iu anger; a de
vice for grubbing people who are
“rooted to the spot;” a patent air
ship for restoring people to their
homes who are "carried away with
emotion,*? “transported with delight,”
etc.; a steam-roller for people “petri
fied with astonishment”— Boston Cour
ier.
An English visitor at one of the
smaller spas in Germany was com-
E' g the other day to a garcon at
si that the water he took really
not to have the slightest effect,
so far as he was concerned. “But
you see, monsieur,” replied the waiter,
who, it should be said, was under no
tice to quit his place, “It is necessary
to be patient Now, I well remember
a lady at this hotel last season who
took too waters, and she did not die
until she had been here elose upon six
months.”— London Figaro.
**»ew** rw her qrtoug, Jen-