KNOXVILLE, GEORGIA.
In Pennsylvania the subject of allow¬
ing womentfuU power of suffrage is be¬
ing widely agitated.
late statistics show that there are only
about one hundred thousand militiamen
in the United States.
A prominent Southern newspaper is
agitating the utilization of barren Alas¬
ka as a penal colony.
Dom Pedro, Emperor of Brazil, would
make agood immigration agent, l)ur
ing his recent stay in Europe he per¬
suaded 125,000 people to go to Brazil.
A Paris paper wonders why the
American press pays so much attention
to the affairs of Ireland, and adds that
the average daily has 100 lines about
Ireland to one about France.
If the armies of the Old World should
go on increasing as they have been do¬
ing for the last few years, asserts the
Commercial Advertiser, all Europe will be
bankrupt before the close of the piesent
century._
Tho greatest emigration society at
present is the Argentine Republic. It
will spend this year $5,000,000 to bring
emigrants from the north of Europe
alone. Ships from England, Holland
a»d France are taking them over in thou¬
sands.
__
The State Commissioner’s report shows
that less than 10,000 farms are mortgaged
in Texas, and the aggregate debt repre¬
sented is only $10,084,950. As a com¬
parison with other States Ohio is cited,
the debt of which is fifty-three per cent,
of the value of farms.
The newspapers are beginning to com¬
ment on the extraordinary number of fat
women who appear in public places in
New York. Who they are and what
makes them so phenomenally corpulent
is a mystery. Fat women appear to be
on the increase all over the country.
Three street cars recently shipped from
this country to Bueno3 Ayres are
equipped as hear3C3 and mourning cars
of three different grades. Inside are
seats for the mourners, a place for the
cofiin, an altar, cross and candelabra.
The car3 are to be run on the street car
tracks to convey funeral parties to the
cemetery.___
The first woman preacher to be li¬
censed by tho Methodist Church South
is a Mrs. Webber, of Springtown, Arkan¬
sas, whose husband is also a preacher
The innovation, states Harper’s "Weekly ,
has caused quite a stir in Southern Meth¬
odist circles, and will probably result in
the passage of a law making women eli¬
gible for holy orders.
The Bellaire, Zanesville <fc Cincinnati
Railroad in Ohio is advertised as “the
only line running through, without
change of cars, to Jerusalem, Bethel,
Ozark, Jacobsburg, and in full view of
tho ‘Plains of Abraham,’ near Cumber¬
land. Close connection made at Jerusa¬
lem with stage for Antioch. ” This makes'
a rather odd juxtaposition of biblical
names.
The mortality from preventable dis¬
eases is over 5000 yearly in New Jersey
alone. According to the New Y'ork
Independent , taking $1000 to be the
value of each life thus sacrified, the an¬
nual loss in money for unnecessary deaths
from the following diseases; Diphtheria,
1527; typhoid fever, 522; measles 280;
icarlet fever, 255; whooping-cough, 181,
and small-pox, o, foots up $5,570,000.
The Patent Office at Washington has
recently issued a book showing what
patents have been granted to women in
this country. From it we learn that the
very first was granted in 1809 to Mary
Kies, of Pennsylvania, for an improve¬
ment in weaving silk. The second was
In 1815 to Mary Brush for a corset, the
first patented in the world. The bustle
was patented in 1872, fifty-seven years
after, by a New York woman.
Tho imitation of western civilization
by the Japanese has led them to regard
Sunday, which in Japan has hitherto
been decidedly continental in its charac¬
ter, as a day of rest. This began with
the closing of the Government establish¬
ments on Sunday. Tho Tokio citizens
followed this example, and the closing
ipread from city to village, and now on
t fine Sunday business is nearly sus¬
pended and thtf - places of popular iesor»
are crowded. '^
v
There is a theory that the advance of
population, building of railroads,etc., in
the far West is attended by a gradual in
crease of the much-needed rainfall.
Those interested in tho truth of the
proposition will be disappointed to learn
that there are no scientific facts to sus¬
tain it. Professor Cleveland Abbe, in
tho Forum, asserts that the study of
known “phenomena has failed to
lish that there has been any
change in the climate at any point of
larth’s surface during the past
tears.”
TO SLEEP.
All slumb’rous images that be, combined,
To this white couch and cool shall woo thee,
Sleep!
First will I think on fields of grasses deep
In gray-green flower, o'er which the transient
wind
Runs like a smile; and next will call to mind
How glistening poplar-tops, when breezes
creep
Among their leaves, a tender motion keep,
Stroking the sky, liko touch of lovers kind.
Ah, having felt thy calm kiss on mine eyes,
All night inspiring thy divine pure breath,
I shall awake as into godfcood born,
And with a fresh undaunted soul arise,
Clear as the blue convolvulus at morn.
—Dear bedfellow, deals thus thy brother,
Deathi
—Helen Gray Cone, in Lippincott
MRS. COOPER’S NIECE.
BY THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH.
“Philip,” said old John Briggs to his
son, day.” “you-are twenty-eight years old to¬
“So the family record says, father,”
res tponded the elegant young gentleman
ad dressed. “I am disposed to place
implicit reliance done upon it and on you."
“You have nothing since you left
college but kill time.”
“It is only retaliation in advance, sir.
Some day or and other the old chap with the
scalp-lock scythe flippant. will kill me.”
“You are too Since your
aunt Priscilla left you five thousand a
year you have done nothing but 9pend
the money. Your income ought to be
enough for a single man, but you draw
on me too.”
“I’ll try to draw on you less, sir.”
“It is not that, Philip. You are quite
welcome to a check now and then, fori
know that you neither game nor revei,
and I don’t mind your horses, your club,
your natural history era e. nor your lux¬
urious tastes. But still you spend more
money and get less for it than most
young in men of your age—have too much,
fact.”
“I don’t find it too much, sir. In fact
I was thinking what a graceful thing it
•would be if you would double it—a
mere trifle to a gentleman of your means.
I have to use the most p.tiful economy,
I assure you.”
mode “Oh, that’s it, eh? Well, there it a
to increase it very much You
have heard me speak of Philander
kp rl ggs, of New 5 oik,
Money-lender and skinflint? I have
neaia of him.
Aonseuse, ell Philip. He is a quite
worthy as w as very wealthy man*, and
if he preters to invest ready money iu
short loans, what of that, 1 lend my
more\, or some of it, sometimes.
But not at cent, per cent.
you shall ilu* borrow er * of f him. 1 propose lie has that an
11 ^ a dau ^ fcer \ w ho will inherit
all nu*- ms^vast property, just as you will
mi “?‘ Does she , shave , ucles.fafher.” . . ,, „
‘ P™ 1 -kind enough not to indulge
• chaff. I have her and talked
iu seen
with her. « he is young, handsome,
well educated, and has good taste—-a
society^ gentlewoman with domestic
el father, , , not . old, ... and
" ‘’ you are so
. her much, I
since you aamire so see no
re “°“
8top y°ur nonsense and listen,
“P n SS 3 und I had a talk over it when I
^ a \ ew * ork > and we have con
ciudecl, if ,, you two together, to
come
chip in equally and settle a half-million
on what yon on have your wedding 11 do well day. With
you you enough for
a
But, demurred Philip, I don t like
B P"ffiPL* or a Uduer-m-law.
• I° U d ° n £ ® ar ^y ®P rl _ gg®
“And the name! Think of it! .
" bat fi that? With marriage the
name is changed. I don t think she’ll
gain much by it Spriggs—Briggs!
and a half-dozen of the other.”
la like to oblige you, father. I sup
|>cse I must marry someday; but it will
be some one I love; and then, Philsdel
phia hke, insist on a woman of good
tome one you love! _ How the ,, deuce ,
do you know you’ll not love her till you
see her. Good family! Of course
you re entitled to that. The peerage of
jtr.gmnd is full of Viscount Briggses,
The Briggses are found in the Almanach
von Gotha among the erlaucht families,
lour grandfather made three hundred
thousand dollars in hides and tallow,
ana if he had not invested it in real es
tatc that multiplied itself more than ten
fold belore he died, I should have been
in the same business to-day, and you in
the counting-room or warehouse. Fam
ily, indeed! lou’re a foolish boy, Philip,
and your aunt’s legacy has ruined you.”
‘ 1 wish, sir, there were a half-dozen
more old aunts to continue my ruin in
the same way. It is of no use getting
father. Lou can’t keep it up.
Ill take to anything you say—law,
physic, or divinity; sell my horses, drop
my club, read by the cubic foot, but to
marry ereuse me.”
“See here, Phil,” exclaimed the
father, “who by this time was at white
heat, “you never knew me to break my
word. I merely ask you to marry for
your own good. I point out a wife in
every way suitable to you. Marry to
fairly please me, and I will not only start you
in life now, but leave you all I
have when I am gone. Marry to suit
some foolish fancy of your own, and I’ll
—yes, I’ll found an asylum for idiots.
Now you understand me.” And Briggs
marched off, lcaviog his son to his medi¬
tations.
“If I stay here,” said Philip to him¬
self, “father and I will quarrel. Better
give the dear old gentleman a chance to
cool off. I’ll ruralize a little."
That afternoon Philip packed a port¬
manteau, hamnTer and with a fishing-rod and
mineral started off to Mont¬
gomery of his County, had where an old college
mate married and settled, one
whom he had long promised to visit.
When he arrived thore ho learned that
Boudinot and his wife had gone to Long
Branch for the reason, and the.servants
with them, the house being in charge of
a care-taker. Philip heard of good fish¬
cluded ing in a stream four miles off, and con¬
to try it. He found lodgings at
a farm-house near the place, owned by a
man named Seth Cooper.
His quarters were quite comfortablo.
Tho houso was an old stone building of
ante-Revolutionary erection, chamber and was
roomy. Be was assigned a up¬
stairs, looking out on a trimly kept gar-
den, in which old fashioned flowers and
pot herbs were grown side by side, and
which sent a pleasant fragrance through
the open window. The room itself was
adorned with pictures and knick knacks
stead showing feminine furnished tasted, and the bed¬
was with a hair mat¬
tress, and not the bag of feathers of the
vicinage. “Decidedly,” said Philip
“there another female to himself,
is on the premises,
something than the substantial younger and possibly fairer and
Dame Cooper,
with some refined taste.”
But neither that day nor that week
did he see any woman other than Mrs.
Cooper or the hired girl. However, the
his cooking was round good, the country air and
walk about gave him an ap¬
petite, and he was content. He fished
the stream closely, or rambled here and
there, hammer in hand and bag at side,
or leaned over fences and talked with
the farmers about “craps” and the
weather.
In a week’s time the thing grew mo¬
notonous. The fish were not always in¬
clined to bile, good specimens in quar¬
ries and in situ grew soarcer, and his stock
of talk on farming was nearly exhausted.
He began to think of going to the
Branch and hunting up Boudlnot, As
he sat upon the veranda one afternoon
debating the matter, a wagon was driven
up the lane and stopped at the door.
Lightly out stepped dress, a young woman in a
lowed neat traveling her with and the driver fol¬
a large trunk, under
which he staggered, burly as he was:
Mrs. Cooper came from the kitchen and
exclaimed: “Why, it’s Gwenny, I de¬
clare I"
“You dear old Aunty Ruth!” said the
farmer’s newcomer, wife. hugging “I and kissing good the
came to have a
time for a month.”
“And so you shall, my dear,” was the
hearty Philip reply.
took an ocular inventory of the
looks, dress and manner of the new¬
comer as he took off his hat. “A sweet
face and graceful figure, and presentable
anywhere,” was his internal comment.
“Here’s luck. I shall not visit the Branch
yet.”
“You have a hoarder, aunty,” said the
girl when upstairs f with Mrs. Cooper.
“Yes. He s a Mr. Bee,’’said the other,
“It don’t look as if he had any call to
work for his living, judging by his
white hands and his fix-ups, and he's
plenty of money."
,. BeeI Then he isn’t a busy bee. But
he’s he’ll good-looking; if he be agreeable,
do for a walking-stick.”
Mrs. Cooper’s mistake as to Philip was
natural his enough. nis When he she had had said, asked
^j name j on “Philip coming in
g a r £ y wa y # B., at your service,”
an ^ s e had taken the sound of the In
jtial for his surname. After she had
called him Mr. Bee several times Philp
saw the blunder, smiled at it, and,as the
nav al officers say, “made it so;” and
when Gwenny came to the table she was
introduced, “Miss Gwenny, Mr. Bee.”
a.s 8 h e wa3 the niece, he concluded her
name to be Coo per, but as the farmer ad
dressed her as Miss Gwennv, and the
farmer’s wife as Gwenny, Philip chose
the more respectful forln of the two.
As Philip was a gallant young gentle
man, and as the young lady was charm
ing much in manner, he naturally paid her
attention. When a young man
and young woman arc thrown together
under such circumstances it is not un
usual for a flirtation to follow. It is
generally a foregone conclusion.
Philip soon learned that “Gwenny”
was the diminutive of Gwenllian, and
not of the more stilted Gwendoline,
which interested him. Philip’s mother
had been a Powel, with Welsh blood in
her veins, and boro the same name. This
later Gwenllian was a mystery to him.
she displayed unquestionably showed gentle
manners. Then she a fair
knowledge in of any subject touched upon
conversation.
What was she—a teacher? She had
not the look nor the way of the school
ma’am. A governess? Possibly. If so,
in a good family. But her belongings
were not of the second-hand kind,
Philip had a keen eye for female apparel.
H er lace was ofthe rarest; her gloves
were pretty in material and well-fitting,
though displayed quiet little in in tone; and though she
the way of jewelry,
the stone that sparkled on the head of a
lace-pin She nad was been unmistakably well cultured, a diamond,
and every
word and action showed a purity that
fitted har name.
On the other hand, Philip was as much
a mystevy to the young girl, He was a
gentleman beyond doubt, But what
was he doing there, a man of culture, re
fineraent, and esthetic tastes, in that
f arm -house? He had said nothing of
t h e Boudinota, which would have ex¬
plained it. which With did a little ill affectation of
cynicism, clear not become him,
the man was as as water, frank as
air . But why did he loiter there with
no apparent purpose? The girl did not
at first deem‘she was the attraction, but
it came to her after five weeks, and she
grew shy. and her shyness for the last
week of her stay infected Philip, who
became she shy too, and lost all ease. At
length that she had announced home, to Mrs. and Cooper
to return that
her father, who was . m Tjv.:i„a„i»vi Bniiadelphia
visitmg .... a friend , . , there would come for
H with °S,£ him e Philip heard this with h, A frm de- “ d
t a
presston lat o d him he had met his :
¥?• girl to and make that him it lay happy in the or power miserable of this for
All the night that followed, Philip lay
and tossed restlessly. He could not
sleep. Ho felt that his father would be
as wife good then as hie word, but Near he would win a
dressed, or never and . t the morning window he
arose, sat at
until tho sun showed itself. Then ho
slipped ward glen out of few the house yards and off, strolled intending to¬
a a
to remain out until he heard the break¬
fast bell. It had been a favorite haunt
of the two, and yet for the last few days
both had avoided it. He made his way
to a mossy rock which formed a sort of
rustic seat, and there he saw—Gwenny.
“Miss Gwenllian!” he exclaimed.
She rose with a rather embarrassed
air, “I rested badly last night, Mr. Bee,
and I came out at daybreak. I have
been here ever since. The morning air
seems to refresh me.”
“I have the same experience,” he said.
“I have rested badly, or rather have not
rested at all. I—”
She looked up inquiringly, and at
something she read in his eyes, dropped
her own, while a flush overspread his, i
face and neck.
"Gwenny!” hand. he said, desperately, and
took her The fingers trembled
in his, hut were not (thdrawn.
“Gwenny, to-day. darling,” Do he know saw that ‘we are to
part you I love
you dearly?” you—Philip?” she
“Do murmured,
but she did not look up.
“Gwenny,” he said, “I have been sail¬
ing under false colors, but innocsntlj
enough I have a way among my gen
tlemca friends of using my initials, and
so I am called among them P. B., or Mr.
B. When your aunt asked my name, 1
said, ‘Mr. B.,’ and I did not care to un
from depeive her; but I desire no concealment
you, unless you do not care forme.
Then we will part as we met* but I shall
be He a changed waited for man.” There
slight tightening a reply. was a
of her fingers on his as
she half-whispered :
“You must know that I care for you,
Philip.”
* *****
Philip, “Now, darling,” said the exultant
“you must let me speak to you«
father to-day.”
stinate, “I fear ” she you said. may find “He him undue rather ob¬
sets store
by “I his daughter.”
society, can and satisfy him of my position in
that I am able to maintain
you. I have means of my own, and have
—well, I may say I had, great expecta¬
tions; but _my father, who is several
times a millionaire, has taken it into his
head to fit me with a wife. I prefer to
choose for myself. If you will be con¬
tent to share what I have, Philip Briggs
does not care for more. ”
leasing “Briggs—Philip herself from 1” his cried Gwenny, re¬
grasp and look¬
ing at him wonderingly. “Is youj
father's name John?"
“Yes.”
“And he lives in Philadelphia?”
“Yes.”
Gwenny burst into a peal of silvery
laughter. she said “Do not feel vexed, Philip,”
the similarity at length. of “I am positions. only laughing My
at our
father choose a husband for me iu the
same way, and it was to escape discussion
of the matter that I took these few
weeks of rustication. Mrs. Cooper is
my old nurse, and I have called her
•aunty’ from the time I could toddle
around. She was married from our
house. Her husband had very little
money, and father bought them this
farm and stocked it. But, oh 1 think,
will Philip chuckle! dear, how your father Philip and mine
You are Briggs,
and I—I am Gwenllian Spriggs!"—
Harper’s Bazar.
Cost of Making a Boy a Man.
4 *My father never did anything foi
me,” recently remarked a young man
who a few weeks ago finished his school
life and is now seeking a good business
opening. complaining Judging by the words and
the tone m wh ch they were
uttered, the member of the firm who
heard them is prone to the belief that
the young man’s idc£ of “doing some
thing” is an outright gift of $iO/0 in a
lump, established or the purchase of a partnership in
an concern.
The young man, to the knowledge of
the writer, has not done one month’s
actual work for others in his entire life.
His life has been passed in the pleasant
pastimes hunting, of fishing, the home ball circle, in reading,
and other playing, yachting
beneficial employments others. not particularly
to He i 9 a type of
that class of boys whose parents are
surflciently well to do to keep servants
to attend to the household drudgery,
sad whose fathers follow vocations in
which no use can be made of the boy’s
spare time. Like most boys of his class,
he looks upon his board and clothes for
jewelry, twenty years, bicycle, together with his pony,
etc., as matters of
course. The writer, while the com
plaining had ' the remark was still ringing in his
ear, curiosity to make a con
servatlve raise ordinary compilation for of what it costs to
an of his boy the first twenty
years life, and here it is: $10U
per year for tho first five years, $500;
$150 per year for the second five years,
$750; $200 per year for the third five
years, $1000; $:{00 per year for the next
three years. $900; $500 for the next two
years, $1000. Total, $4150.
This is a moderate estimate of the
financial balance against the boy who
complains that his father has never done
anything for him.— Seu> York Press.
General Boulanger and Ills Ameri¬
can Enslaver.
In 1876 dinner. a distinguished the Baltimorean
gave a At table the fiery
glance of the General rested on a beauti¬
ful Washington widow. The guests had
only risen when he broke away from the
lady he had taken in and asked to be
presented to the fair tho enslaver, lie could
speak French, no English, but lady could speak
no before the evening was
over the General’s devotion was in pos¬
session of the room. He followed the
lndyto Washington and there his atten¬
tions became so asaduous that the lady
became frightened and retreated to an
illness. upper chamber, front whence she plead
General planted Nothing bimself discouraged, the b rave
at the door with
persistent “Madame,has regularity. daughter
your a doctor?
Get one, get two, got three!" “General
have Bouianger, f ’ rest assured my daughter lev shall
al th e medical attention illness
demands,” .eplied the intrepid mother,
parleying on the doorstep. The General
then with proceeded f etterg) thrfle to bombard day—curious the invalid epis¬
a
tles, written in French and laboriously
Englished by means of a dictionary.
The time came when tho General had to
sail, and he composed whnt to him was
a fitting farewell. “Now that everything
is over,” he wrote to the lady, who was
unaware that anything was begun, “I
beg you to remember that I am a gallant
man” (un gallant hopxme).— Washington
Star.
Stanley’s Love Adventnre.
A story comes from Omaha to the
effect that Henry M. Stanley, the African
explorer, Omaha was and formerly fell a in writer love on an
paper, with s
widow in that city. His suit being re¬
jected, he left Omaha in disgust. Stan¬
ley went to Omaha handsome, in 1858 or 1859. He
of was dventure. young, lie fell gallant love and fond
a in with a
vaudeville actress, who proved a coquette
an< ! fliriofl with young men with more
money than Stanley. One night, after
posting her friends behind the scenes to
observe tho result, she granted Stanley
an interview. Stanley, honest in his in
fatuation, knelt before the woman and
protested his love desperately. A re
porter described the scone }n his paper
»nd Stanley thrashed him for it.
BUDGET OF FUN.
HUMOROUS SKETCHES FROM
VARIOUS SOURCES.
A Maiden’s Age—A Beginning—A
Favorite Topic — He Wouldn’t
Wait—From Opposite Stand¬
points, Etc., Etc.
Maiden twenty,
Pertly Lovers plenty,
shakes her pretty caput, vows that
she will never wed.
Two years after—
Causes laughter,
That at twenty she so foolish, she so silly
thing had said.
Five years later—
Still a. waiter;
Grimly . sets her bright incisors, vows that
wedded she will be.
Twenty-eigUt, Meets her
And most happily is fate,
married at the age of
twenty-three. —Binghampton
Republican.
A Beginning.
American Boy — “Papa, the paper
says that Japanese war vessels are illumi¬
nated by electric lights. Why can’t the
United States have things that way?”
that Papa —“We have made a beginning in
lights direction, my son. We’ve got the
.”—Philadelphia Record.
A Favorite Topic
“Don’t you think it strange that Mr.
Bjoncs never gets tiled from talking so
much?” asked Merritt.
“Not at all,” returned Miss Snyder,
with a smile; “you see he always speaks
about himself.”— Judge.
He Wouldn't Wait.
“I understand there is a man here who
wants to lick the terror of Shinhandy,”
bellowed the bully as he entered the bar¬
room of a border town.
“Yes; he’s just now engaged in a
broad-ax dual w.th two other men in the
dark room yonder. Won't you wait?”
Judge. “N-n-no; I’m late for supper now.”—
From Opposite Standpoints.
divers Bobby—“What a fine time the pearl
swimmin’ must all have, day, Tommy! They are in
and have more fat,
juicy oysters than they can eat. ”
the Tommy—“Yes; and what a fine time
sharks have eatin’ of them!”—
Jetcelers' Weekly.
Memories of Work.
give Weary Baggies—“Will you kindly
me a drink of water, Madame?’’
Mrs. Haseed—“There's the well; go
help yourself.”
should Weary Baggies—“I would prefer you
hand it to me in a goblet, if you
please. The memories which the sight
of that old oaken bucket awaken would
make the draught bitter with my tears.”
Time Wasted.
lady, “I hope, Mr. Templecourt,” said the
as she rose from the chair which
had vibrated with her voice for an hour
and a half, “that I haven’t taken up too
much of your valuable time.”
“Not at all, Mrs. Chatts,” returned
the lawyer, glancing wearily at the pile
of letters on his desk; “I assure you
that this time has been of no value to me
whatever .”—Boston Beacon.
He Had It Down Fine.
“Say, Choliey, ” asked one newsboy of
another, “what’s a payin’ teller?"
“He’s de man what pays out de
money.”
“An’ what’s a receivin’ teller?”
“He’s de man what takes in de
money.”
“An’ what’s de cashier?”
“He's de feller what gits away wid de
money .’’—Bazar.
A Man in the Honeymoon.
Hostess—“And so you really believe
the moon to be inhabited, Professor?”
Professor Einzumncbca —“.Ah, veil,
I do not say zat. But zere is vun moon
in which zere mus' be v'un man.”
Hostess—“A.nd which might that be
pray?”
Professor E. (putting on hi3 party
honeymoon manners)—“Vy, 1” ze—vat you call it?—ze
The Workings of Time
Mrs. B.—“That couple across the
street are going to celebrate the anniver¬
sary of their wedding. I wonder how
long Mr. they have been married.”
B.—‘‘This must be the first anni¬
versary, because I notice that she sits at
the window every evening and waits for
him to come home."
Mrs. B.—“If they had been married as
long have as we have, the poor thing would
to wait for him all night.”— Life.
A Slight Disappointment.
Landlord (looking out of the window)—
“There comes Widow Jenkins’s boy, and
I do believe he’s coming to pay the back
rent. I’ll go to the door myself.”
Little Boy (at the door)—“Ma sent me
for a receipt.”
Landlorcl—-“All right, my little lad;
step Little right in and 111 write it out.”
lloy—“We're goin’ to have
lemon company to-morrer, an’ ma wants it for
jell ’.”—Hew York Bun.
In the Sanctum a Century Hence.
“Well, Cash, what’s the news?”
“We have phototelegrams from Mer¬
cury, Venus and Mars."
"Are those from Mars of any in¬
terest?”
1 'Yes, indeed. There’s a revolution in
the Central Empire.”
“And what of Jupiter?”
understand “Nothing the as yet. We cannot quite
not reach them.” signals. Perhaps ours do
“That’s bad,” exclaimed the pro¬
prietor, as he hurried away, not in the
best of humor, toward the hall of the
scientific editors.
Winning a Widow.
He gazed around the cheerful and
comfortable addressing the looking widow, apartment. Then
he said:
“Your husband’s been dead over a
year now?”
“Yes,” she answered, with a gentle
sigh, “over a year.”
“I remember reading his obituary,”
he said, “and I thought that it contained
a misstatement of facts?”
“A misstatement of facts?”
“Yes, it said that he had gone to a
better home. In my opinion it would be
impossible for him to find a more cheer-;
ful, a more comfortable, and, with you
in it, a more charming and desirable
home than this. ”
The widow smiled sweetly, then he
popped and was accepted .—Boston Cour
ter.
A Funny Man’s Troubles.
Editor—“Mr. Funnyman,your humor¬
ous fresh department is not half so bright and
as it used to be. Are you in poor
health?”
Mr. Funnyman—“N-o,sir;ray health’s
all right, but I’m af raid I’ve got to give
up humorous work.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Well, sir, I got married some months
ago, and now when I print a joke about
wives my wife thinks it means her, and
if I mention a mother-in-law her mother
comes around and raises the'roof, and,
plumber, besides, one of my wife's brothers is a
another is an ice man, and
the other is a coal dealer, and she has a
half brother who is a book agent, and
they’re If all big men with ugly tempers.
you don’t mind I’d like to retire from
the humorous department and take a
position as obituary editor.”— Philadel¬
phia Record.
Took tho Phras3 Literally.
“I don’t want yer old paper no long
er’n ye may jest stop it to wunst.”
"What’s the matter?”
does, “Any paper that’ll lie like your’n
and eddicated ain t tit to household place inter a refined
like mine is.’ 1
“Has it been lying?”
“Hezit! Well, 1 should say it had,
rayther. Only last week„it sed in the
items from aour taown, thet ‘Rev. James
the Pogram Union uv Church Boston filled the pulpit at
in Birchville dees
t r ict ^ ^
“Well, didn’t he?”
little “No, siree, he didn’t. Why, he's t
don’t light-weight weigh whipper-snapper, wol
and it would take no more’n 200 hundred eighty pounds,
uv such at
him ter fill aour pulpit, er cum any
whares near it. We’ve got a full-grown
such pulpit, wot can’t be filled by no one
boy ez he is .”—Dansville Bretts.
The Student Felt Complimented.
Barrett During the engagement of Booth and
in New Orleans last season as¬
sistants for soldiers, courtiers and mob)
were drawn largely from the students ol
the medical and law departments of the
Tulane University. They liked it, and
tail subsequently, those who had swallow
coats, and were swell were induced
to assist at the Mrs. Langtry receptions.
One of the young gentlemen, a law stu¬
dent, was much elated by his association
with the great tragedians. One night he
went home in great glee to his mother,
and said: “Mother, Mr. Booth spoke to
me to night!” “Spoke to you!” saidthi
proud mother. “What did he sav?”
“Why, mother,” said the hopeful young
lawyer, “[ was standing in one of th«
entrances to the stage when Mr. Booth
came out of his dressing room to go oa
—quick, ‘Confound like that—and he said to me;
you sir! Get out of the way,
quick: get out of the way!’ Yes, indeed,
he talked to me.”— Picayune.
A Blighted Romance
The young man had accepted a seat
an hour or two before in a crowded tram
by the side of a young lady who had
graciously will made room for him.
“You pardon me,” he wassaying,
“for being bold enough, Miss-”
“Hopper,” “Miss Whopper. she prompted, softly.
Thank you. My
name is Cahokia. You will pardon me,”
he went on, in a slightly tremulous
tone, “for being bold enough to say on
tfuch short acquaintance that I sincerely
hope this may not be tho last time we
shall meet. I have never seen a young'
lady deep for whom I felt I could entertain so
a-”
“Dinner all ready in the dining carl”:
announced a dark complexioned official,
thrusting his head in at the door of the
car.
The young man from St. Louis sprang
convulsively to his feet, seized his hat
and overcoat with frantic energy, and,
by the mo3t aesp erate and reckless exer
tions, succeeded in being the first man;
in the car to respond to the invitation,;
and a budding romance iu the life of
the susceptible maiden from Southern
Illinois came to a melancholy and un¬
timely end.— Chicago Tribune.
Real Cause of the Samoa Fuss.
The special representative of the
Chicago Hews has succeeded in discover¬
ing the true inwardness of the American
it German-Samoan Chicago imbroglio. the Startling bottom as
may seem, is at
of it all. It appears, according to the
statements of prom nent members of the
the committee Taimua, of investigation and tho Faipule, appointed by
that
Chicago parties had shipped large quan¬
tities of canned beef, veal, chicken and
other edibles of the animal kind through
their agents there to the natives of the-e
islands, who, by the way, on the dead
quiet, are as great cannibals as ever, and
relish human flesh the more because it is
forbidden them. The Samoans are not
particularly stuck on canned badly meats in, in;
general, but they were taken
with those sent from Chicago. Thej
American traders in Samoa removed]
all the original labels and replaced
them by entirely new and]
still gaudier ones. The reading
was materially changed. For instance,;
the new labels on ihe canned chicken
read: “One-Half Pound Fresh. White
Baby, Already Cooked; canned Cut the Can at
the Arrow,” while tho veal was
changed, “8ptced Dude, aecoidiug with to Dressing; the label, Very: to;
Tender.” Tho corned altered, beef labels, they too,'
had legend: been slightly Missionary, for bore with
the “Boneless
Truffles.” Tho Samoans were delighted
with these delicacies and willingly paid
fancy prices for them. All went well
until the Germans gave the snap away
after vainly endeavoring to introduce
bockwurst, and sauerkraut, staples Limburger of
cheese, bretzcls as Samoan
diet. Then civil war was begun.
Odd Way of Cooking Coffee.
A mortar mixer at the new hotel was
observed to be which heating his kettle of him, cof¬
fee in a way was no no volty to
but seemed strange to a reporter. He
dug a hole in a pile of sand, placed a
lump of limo in it, sprinkled some water
on the lime, placed around his kettle on it, and
banked sand up it. When 12
o’clock struck he shouted: “Come to
tay; your coffco’s a bilin'."— Portland
Oregonian. i
