Newspaper Page Text
mmm journal.
KNOXVILLE, GEORGIA.
It is said that - intempciance has
greatly increased among the Indians
since they were placed on reservations.
A man in the Indiana Legislature
proposed that the State should investi¬
gate the relation of the ground-hog to
the weather.
In proportion to the population, states
the New York Tribune, there are more
Massachusetts people in the State of
Iowa than in Massachusetts.
The greatest number of ex-Presidents
living at any one time was four, in 1825,
when John Quiney Adams was inaugu
rated, there then surviving John Adams,
Thomas Jefferson, Madison and
James Monroe.
Mr.-James S. Richardson’s Dahomey
plantation, in Bolivar County, Miss., is
probably the largest farm ot rich land
in a single tract in the world. It con¬
tains 23,000 acres, and he will this year
plant at least 10,000 acres of it in cot¬
ton. •
An organization has been formed in
Philadelphia having for its object the
training of women in parliamentary
usage and political methods, Some
twenty-six members were present at
their first meeting, representing journal¬
ists, workers in philanthropic move¬
ments and members of the W. C. T. U.
The practice of carrying firearms is
becoming so common in England that
the magistrates are discussing the best
means for putting a stop to it. There is
a license charge for carrying weapons,
but it is not enforced. It is now pro
,
weapon pay at the same time for a
license.
—
There is no country in . the world where
the science of ^ong life, accompanied
with good health, unimpaired mental
faculties, good . digestion, ,. .. and , great . ac
tivity, is better understood than in
France, and there, of 1000 persons born,
120 reach the age of seventy, and ths
p«,centa-. con,to™ „ * high „■«,
eighty-five is past.
A New York jeweler says that some
times when a gold necklace turns black
when it is worn a lady jumps to the con
elusion that it is not genuine. Its turn
ing black is no test. If a lady has too
much sulphur, iron, salt, mercury or
other acids in her blood gold will be
discolored when it comes in contact with
her skin. The trouble is in the girl,
and not the ° **old ‘
The fact that a British vessel of 270
tons has passed through the Panama
canal from Aspinwall to Chagres, adis
-»**«»“
canal is something more than a scratch
on the earth’s surface. It is more reason
able to suppose that such an enterprise
will be completed, asserts the Atlanta
Constitution , than it is to believe that it
will be abandoned.
old „» lady was - **«• so well pleased ->«— with Will- *.
iam Ross Wallace’s poems in the New
York Ledger that she left him the inter
est on $20,000, the principal to go to his
children. But it made the poet un¬
happy, and he spent the remainder of
his life trying to break the will. He
wanted the money to use in building a
monument to George Washington.
It is a fact by no means generally
known, I states the Commercial Advertiser,
,, that , when the ,, , battle ,,, , between . the ., „ Mom
tor and the Merrimac was fought the Fed
eral Governmenthadnotyetaccepted the
little ironclad. Governor Griswold, of New
York, afterward known as the “Monitor
Governor,” was always a warm admirer of
Ericsson’s genius, and it was he who ad
vanced the money for the completion of
tho hnot
•
The Washington Star says that “Ala¬
bama gives nearly one-third of her State
revenue to education—a proportion un¬
equaled in the Union. Her Legislature
has just increased the appropriation for
educational purposes by $100,000 for new
buildings for the State Agricultural and
Mechanical College. It is a large feathe*
in Alabama’s cap that this is so, and that
her colored people are getting their share
of the schools.”
'Among the letters &. condolence
which Emperor Francis Joseph, ot
Austria, received on the tragic death of
his son was one signed by “the Mother
of Oberdank.” In 1882 Oberdank was
arrested for having a shell in his posses¬
sion when the Emperor visited Trieste.
He was tried and condemned to death.
His mother sent an appeal to the Em¬
peror for. his pardon. So did Victor
Hugo. His Majesty refused the pardon
and Oberdank was executed. “Unhappy
father,” says the mother in her letter to
the Emperor, “I regret that on ac¬
count of the tragic death of your only
son you are compelled to feel the same
pangs that I, a poor abandoned mother,
felt cn the morning of the 20th of De
«ember,.I222.”
GOOD-BY. GOD BLESS YOU,
Hike the Anglo-Saxon speech
With its direct revealings:
It takes a hold and seems to reach
Far down into your feelings;
That some folk deem it rude, I know,
And therefore they abuse it;
But I have never found it so,
Before all else I choose it
I don’t object that men should air
The Gallic they have paid for,
With “au revoir,” “adieu, ina chore,”
For that’s what French was made for.
But when a crony takes you*hand
At parting to address you, i
He drops all foreign lingo and
He says: “Gobd-by, God bless you’”'
This seems to me a sacred phrase
With reverence impassioned;
A thing coma down from righteous days,
Quaintly, but nobly fashioned.
It well becomes an honest face,
A voice that’s round and cheerful;
It stays the sturdy in his place
And soothes the weak and fearful.
Into the porches of the ears
It steals with subtle unction,
And in your heart of hearts appears
To work its gracious function;
And all day long with pleasing song
It lingers to caress you.
I’m sure no human heart goes wrong
That’s told “Good-by, God bless you!”
I love the words, perhaps because,
When I was leaving mother,
Standing at last in solemn pause
We looked at one another,
And I, I saw in mother’s eyes
The love she could not tell me,
A love eternal as the skies,
Whatever fate befell me.
She put her arms about my neck
And soothed the pain of leaving,
And, though her heart was like to break,
She spoke no word of grieving;
She let no fear bedim her eye,
For fear that might distress me,
But, kissing me, she said good-by,
And asked our God to bless me,
—Eugene Field, in the Chicago News.
AN ARTIST’S IDYL.
BY HENRY GREVILLE.
Maurice strolled aimlessly through the
unbrageous forest. The rain had
“£\ t m
sound of a trickling fountain. At a
distance the path he was following
opened on a green dark, glade. their The trunks of
the trees were branches
darker still, and the spreading foliage
° f * he chestnuts, meeting above the
head of , the young 'cathedral artist, seemed like the
vault of a at the hour when
the declining sun sends through the
many-colored windows a mysterious
U S ht intc > the obscurity ot the interior.
jects, their confounding their contours,soften¬
ing angles and rounding their out¬
lines. He walked slowly, each moment
had discovering in the forest and some filled beauty with he
not seen before, that
tender admiration for nature which is a
part of genius,
Having reaehed the glade, he looked
about him. The grass was green and
fresh: the delicate leaves of the trees
glistened had under the drops of rain which
fallen upon them. He paused that
Be might better observe the scene which
seemed more impressive in the gathering
shadows than in the full light of the
Bun -
He saw the pretty slight form of a
girl advancing from a dumb of beech
tr “ s ’ She walked with a supple step,
ri“r,‘h'
he stood, looked at her intently,
When a few paces from him the girl saw
trembled, and let fall a small bun
£ d f fag ° t3 she was carrying on her
“You frightened me,” she said, smil¬
ing, and her large dark eye3 sparkled
gayly under her tangled yellow hair.
,4' impossible i ook c. to describe, existed be
is
tween this pretty smiling girl, the
f olia 8 e of the g lade and the tone of the
landscape. “Remain
where you are,” said the
young man, “I want to sketch you.”
She was about to brush back the locks
that bad fallea over ber forehead, but he
stopped her with a gesture.
“Stand just as you are.”
He seated himself on a stone and
^is rapidly sketched the face and form of
young model.
™ as a P easant ’ but delicate and
slight their as are these young girls before
often late. complete Her development, which is
of eyes were already those
ch i!J a woman;her smile was still that of a
,, vou ? ?” asked the artist
M he worked.
“I shall be sixteen soon.”
“Is it possible! I thought you
younger.”
f am small,” she said with a frank
smile, “but I shall grow quickly, and by
Saint John’s Eve I shall have a lover.”
the “Why on Saint John’s Eve?” asked
young man, pausing in his work and
looking “Because at her.
then we shall dance around
the bonfires."
So soon was this pure brow, these in¬
nocent eyes, this childish mouth to be
profaned by the caresses of some young
man of the village! Maurice experi¬
enced a vague feeling of jealousy.
“Would you like to have me for your
lover?” he asked, as he returned to his
work.
“You? Ah I you are a gentleman, I
am a peasant. Honest girls do not
listen to gentlemen.”
The young man made no reply to her
words, “I but said:
turn here can see no longer. Will you re¬
to-morrow a little earlier?”
“For my picture?” •
“Yes.”
“I will return. Good evening.”
She took up her fagots, and, passing
under appeared the. in arching the shades chestnuts, soon dis¬
of evening.
Maurice returned home, dreaming of
the girl with the yellow hair. Although
he had often before seen pretty peasants,
whom he had regarded with an artist’s
eye, he seemed to look on this girl with
the jealous eye -f a lover. That night
and the next day seemed long to him,
and some time before the appointed
hour he was in the glade.
He worked by himself, and when, a
little later, the young girl arrived,
lag at the sketch, she exclaimed with
an air of coquetry and surprise:
“Ah, it is I! Are you going to give
it to me?”
“No, I will make a small picture for
you.”
“And this one, what are you going to
do with it?”
“It is going to Paris, it will be put in
a large frame, it will be hung in the
grand salon and all the world will go to
see it.”
“Ah! yes, I know, at the Exposition.”
“You know what that is?"
“There have been artists here before
who painted pictures for the Exposition,
as they said, but they never painted my
portrait.”
The day was drawing to a beautiful
close. The atmosphere had the soft
delicate tones which had delighted
Maurice on the previous evening, and
his work advanced rapidly.
He painted on the picture afterward
in his studio. He determined to make
it his best work. Being already well
known, it was no longer necessary foi
him to seek to make a name, neverthe
less he was certain that this picture
would set the seal on his reputation.
By the time he had finished the pict
ure to his satisfaction, winter had come
and Maurice was in love with his little
model.
He loved her too much to tell her oi
his love, too much to tear from her ua
tive meadow this flower of maidenhood
whom he could not make his wife, but
enough to suffer at the thought of part
in g. fro m her. She had naught that
goes to the making of happiness in
life, neither depth of sentiment, nor de
votion which makes one forget all else,
nor passion which excuses all things; she
little was simply vain, a pretty flower of the field, a
either a little coquettish without
grave faults or great virtues.
Maurice knew that she could be nothing
to him, yet he adored the beautiful out
lines of her scarcely developed form,
which the folds of her coarse gown
chastely enveloped yet could not all con
ceal He loved those deep eyes, that
smiling mouth, those yellow tresses,
always in disorder, the little handker
chief that crossed her bosom; and these
he loved,and it was with pain he thought
with of parting pain from from them. what he One always parts
expects nevei
again to see. It is so hard to leave be¬
hind one a bit of one’s life that he ha9 no
right to had keep.
He carried off her picture, how¬
ever, and before this he passed the best
hours of the winter, ceaselessly laboring
to perfect a work already perfect.
The The critics painting was greatly admired. their
were unanimous in en¬
thusiasm, but they declared that such a
face could not exist except in, the mind
of a poet or in the imagination of a
painter. Maurice listened to all this
with a smile and kept to himself the
secret of the sweet face that had inspired
him. -
He received flattering offers for his
picture; had none of his previous paintings*
dined commanded to sell it; so he high also a refused price; *to heide-^ *alj
low it to be engraved. As he was un¬
able to possess the model of the picture
he was determined to keep the latter.
It was autumu when he returned to
the village where he had met the little
maid with the yellow hair. Since he
had painted her portrait, twice had the
bonfires of Saint John’s Eve seen the
bands of joyous peasants dancing about
them, and as he thought of the young
girl he smiled sadly, wondering which
of the village young men had. made her
his choice.
His first pilgrimage was to the forest
of chestnuts. As darkness comes quickly
on October evenings, he hastened along
the forest walk; but it was not yet dark,
and rays of amber light still traversed
the forest, falling upon the leaves that
trembled on their branches and upon
those that rustled under his feet. With
the odor of dead leaves came a thousand
regrets, sorrowful memories and bitter
thoughts speakable which • filled him with un
sadness, with a greater dis¬
taste for life than he had ever before
experienced.
When he reached the glade he seated
himself in the same place where two
years before he had sketched the pict¬
ure which had crowned his fame. The
cold stone on which he sat seemed to
mock all his tender feelings.
While he sat and mused, he saw ap¬
proaching path, the him, over the well-known
girl who had been his model
—now alone; a large young woman. She her, was
not a peasant walked beside
holding her by the hand: he was a band
some fellow, strong and well built, and
well-to do for one of his class. He
leaned toward her, and from time to
time kissed a tear from her cheek.
When they saw Maurice they paused,
confused and surprised.
“And this,” he thought, “is the girl
of whom I have dreamed.”
“But he took pity on her when, in a
voice of sighs, she said to him:
“They do not wish us to marry. 1
am poor, he is well off, and his mother
does not want me for a daughter-in-law;
she even talks of disinheriting him.”
“And you, you do not wish to be dis¬
inherited?" Maurice said ironically to
the young man.
“Why, one must live!”
“That is true. I am sorry for you, my
children.”
They departed. Maurice, when left to
himself, took his head between his hands
and thought for a long time.
His ideal was destroyed. In this
young peasant woman, still handsome,
but about to develope into a common¬
place matron, model naught remained of his
pretty with the yellow hair.
“Thus it is with our dreams,” he said,
ns he arise. “All that remains is ths
opportunity He wrote of Paris doing that a little good.”
to same evening,
and himself a few at days afterward house he presented
the of the young
woman.
“I have sold your portrait,” he said to
her, in the presence os her astonished
mother. “It has brought a large price,
indeed a little fortune. I have brought
the money to you, in order that you may
marry your lover .”—New York Epoch.
Beginning of Slavery in America.
A correspondent of the New York
Sun asks: “Who was the first man to
bring slaves into this country?” The Sun
replies: “We don’t know his name, but
in August, 1619, a Dutch vessel at James
town, Virginia, landed fourteen slaves in
exchange for provisions. This is the
only instance in this country in which a
beginning of the trade can be deter
mined.’’
BUDGET OF FUN.
HUMOROUS SKETCHES FROM
VARIOUS SOURCES.
Why He Did Not Marry — When
Women Hold Office—A Maid¬
en’s Artifice — Tools He
Cculd Use, Etc., Etc.
“Your daughter’s hand, dear sir, I ask,”
The bashfuls wain made bold to say.
GTadde^my^eart fro^ day to day.”
“And what,” the parent sternly said,
E y0Urs ’
Abov f the realm ot household chores?”
“I’ve fifteen dollars in my inside pocket,
“Young W. man, adieu, farewell, good day.”
H. Jones, in New York Sun.
When Women Hold Office.
Female Sheriff —“Is your Husband at
home?”
do Wife (suspiciously)—“Heisnot. What
you want of him?”
“J have an attachment for him.”
Siftings. “You hare! Why, you bold thing.”
—
A Maiden’s Artifice,
Artful Amy—“Algernon, in parlia
mentary usages, what does the presiding
officer say when a matter is put to vote?”
Unsuspecting for the Algernon—“Are you
readv question?”
Artful Amy—“Y—yes, Algernon, I
think I am .”—Burlington Free Press.
Tools He Could Use.
Mrs< disconsolate Softheart-“Henry, there is a
p $ 00r who looking tramp at the
oor wants to earn a dinner. He
he ha9 b8en an artist on the dail
pr F g Sg ”
Mr . S oftheart-“Very J well. Give
bim tbo hatchet and le t him gmash
tbat kindUng vqoJl,”-B urlington Free
p rm ,
Freedom of Speech
“May I catch your ear for a moment?”
said the audacious thief as he grabbed
the lady’s earring.
“Certainly,” interrupted the police¬
man, “and the freedom you take em¬
braces the privileges of my club.”
— Jewelers' Weekly.
Money In Literature.
Publisher—“Oh, yes, indeed. Money
can be made in literature. Why, sir,
I never saw women live more luxuriously
than Miss Braddon and Miss Muloch.”
Poor Author (sadly)—“Y-e-s; but
they married their publishers. ”— Phila¬
delphia Record.
Poor Philosophy.
Ancient Actor (regretfully)—“Well,
Walter, who would think that we should
ever come to this?”
natural, .Walter old (an fellow. old-pal)—“Nothing played un
We to poor
houses all our lives, so why regret resid¬
ing for awhile and finally dying in one?”
—New York Sun.
He Preferred the Extra Expense.
Fond Mother—“Really, Charles, Ame¬
lia’s voice must be cultivated. If we
keep her at home it can be done for
about $000. If we send her abroad it
will cost $10,000. Which would you
prefer?” Unfeeling
Father—“Send her abroad.”
Burlington Free Press.
Did He Go?
Raynor—“Chokeband, why don’t you
come around and join our club? You’ve
had invitations enough.”
Chokeband—“I know it, but I’m
afraid its an intellectual affair.”
Raynor—“Oh, no, it isn't, You
wouldn’t feel out of place in the least.”
—Burlington Free Press.
A Sufficient Reason.
Brown—“Hello, Robinson, I thought
you night were taking in the musicale to¬
!”
Robinson—“I just left there.”
Brown—“What made you leave so
early?”
Robinson—“A sixteen-year-old young
man trying to sing ‘Larboard Watch,
Ahoy.’ ”— Epoch.
Would Take His Chances.
please Hungry give Tramp—“Madam, will you
Lady of me the something House—“Well, to eat?” here’s
a
mince it. pie. The But I’m afraid to have that you
eat cook isn’t sure she
didn’t use rough on rats by mistake, and
I was just going to put it in the stove.”
“No. i emrqp have it. I’ve eaten
mince pie and lived, and I’ll take my
chances on rough on rats.”
An Economical Scheme.
“Isn’t that a new dog you’ve got,
Brown?”
“Yes, I’ve only had. him a short
time.” *
“Must be an expense to keep a big
animal like that?” _
“No,I bought him purely for economi¬ in
cal reasons. I turn him loose the
yard at eight o’clock and you would be
surprised and to learn how much he saves me
in gas coal.”— Epoch.
Western Life.
Mr. Winks—“Been West, eh? People
out there are full of life and energy, I
suppose?” Minks—“Yes, indeed; they have
Mr.
to be.”'
“Always on a rush, eh?” * tell
“Yes, in cold weather. I just
you, folks who depend on soft coal to
keep waim where the thermometers go
twenty degrees with below zero, have freeze.” tc keep
on a rush coal scuttles, or
—New York Weekly.
Shortening the Hours ol Labor.
“What’s the matter with that clock of
yours? When I came in it was only ten
minutes fast, and now it is almost twenty
minutes ahead of my watch. ’*
“My dear boy, you don’t understand.
It’s all the rage, you know.”
‘‘What’s all the rage?"
“Why, shorter hours for labor,, my
boy. I’ve hour got that fifty clock so tbat it can
make an in minutes, You
den’t know how it has ameliorated my
condition, my boy .”—Boston Transcript.
Accurately Expressed.
“This is a fearful existence of mine,”
paid a barber to a traveling man who was
one of his regular customers.
“Don’t you like it?”
of “Well, I should old say not. This thin
look fixing like up youths white headed men
of twenty or twenty-ont
is getting miserably monotonous.”
tired “Why, you talk like a man who was
of that living.” does
“No; not quite express it)
I’m tired of dye-ing .”—Merchant Trav¬
eler.
A Watch Case.
Police Judge (to officer)—“What is
the charge against this prisoner?”
jeweler’s Officer—“Smashing a window in a
store.”
Judge—“What Officer—“A did he get?”
watch, sir.”
Judge—“Then it is a watch case.”
Officer will (surprised)—“Yes filled, sir. He was
pretty captured him.” your Honor, when I
worth Judge—“Well "so much as solid a filled goods, case we’ll is give not
as
him about $10.”— Jewelers' Weekly.
A Conscientious Girl.
the They were twilight sitting by the seaside in
calm hour and Penelope, a
soft Boston girl, felt her being diffused
with the tender emotions of the hour and
scene and company.
Suddenly she leaned too far forward
and the plashing waves received her
graceful form. only quick enough
Clarence was to
seize her hair.
“Will it hold, dearest? It is your
own?’? he asked.
“Ah,Clarence,” him with and the lustrous eyes
gazed “I cannot up at tell lie; the a bill rapt has expression,
a not yet
been presented.”— Epoch.
A Serious Affair.
Clara—“Oh, mother, we had such fun
at that the party! and I should Young Smith through proposed mock
he go a
marriage ceremony—just in fun, you
know; and it was too funny for anything.
Afterward, some of the older people
who heard of it said we were really mar¬
ried; but we’re not, are we?”
Doting Mother—“Of course not. Be¬
side, young had Smith couldn’t support a
wife if he one.”
“Oh, it wasn’t that Smith. It was the
other Smith, from Gold City, the one
who owns a bonanza mine, you know.”
“Eh? That Smith? My dear, a mar¬
riage like that before witnesses is bind¬
ing .”—New York Weekly.
She Lived on the Beautiful.
“I love all that is beautiful in art and
nature,” she was saying to her aesthetic
admirer; “I revel in the green fields, the
babbling brooks and the little wayside
flowers; I feast on the beauties of earth
and sky and air; they are my daily life
and food, and-”
“Maudie!” cried out the mother from
the kitchen, not knowing that her
daughter’s beau was in the parlor,
“Maudie, whatever made you go and eat
that big dish of potatoes that was left
over from dinner? I told you we wanted
them warmed for supper, I declare if
your appetite isn’t enough to bankrupt
your pa.”
Sherman’s Regard for the Dogs.
General Sherman was once a patient
of the late Dr. Bliss. The doctor had
been treating him for some time and had
given him several different kinds of
medicine, when one day, on making his
regular call, the General said to him:
“Doctor, I don’t seem to be getting
any better for all your medicine.”
“Well, General,” replied the doctor,
jocosely, “perhaps you had throw better physic take
Shakespeaie’s advice, and
to the would, dogs.” replied
“I doctor,” the the sick
man, as he turned his bead on pillow;
“I would but there are a number of
valuable dogs to in the kill neighborhood, off!”— Phila¬ and
I don’t want ’em
delphia Record.
The Rules Didn’t Work.
Mrs. Young wife—“Oh, dear! I’ll
never believe a word these horrid news¬
papers say again.”
Mother—“Why, what’s the matter?”
“Yesterday I read an article about
how to keep a husband just as devoted
as he was when a lover, it said you must
keep your temper, attend conscientiously
to the kitchen and pantry, see that his
clothing is in good order, have plenty
of sunlight in the house and in the heart,
don’t bother him about going to places
of amusement whdh he is tired, keep the
hair becomingly fixed and never let him
see it in curl-papers, avoid friends who
would only bore him, and dress well.”
“Very good advice.”
“Good? Why, as quick as he got
home I told him I wanted a lot of new
dresses, and he got mad right off.”—
New York Weekly.
A Lawyer’s Apt Pupil.
In days gone by few Southern lawyers
Martin. were more He distinguished day than riding Luther
was one to
Annapolis in a stage coach, when his
only companion—a young man who had
just been admitted to the bar—address¬
ing him said:
“Mr. Martin, you have been wonder¬
fully willing successful in your profession. with Are the
you to acquaint me
secret of your success?”
“If you will pay my expenses during
the few days that I shall remain in
Annapolis." “I will,” the
was earnest response.
“It is this advice: Deny everything
and insist upon proof.”
At Annapolis Mr. Martin enjoyed could all
the luxuries that a fine hotel fur¬
nish, the regardless his departure of expense, arrived, and, passed when
time for
the “bill”—of enormous proportions—
to the young lawyer who was standing it,
near. The latter merely glanced at
and then returned it to Mr. Martin.
“Aren’t you going to pay it?” Mr.
Martin asked.
“Pay what?”
“This bill. Didn’t you promise to
def ay my expenses while I was in
Annapolis?” dear sir,” reply,
“My was the quiet
“I deny everything and insist upon
proof.” and
The eminent lawyer paid his bill,
laughingly need said to further the young counsel man: from
“You no
me ,”—Atlanta Constitution.
The Dowager Empress Augusta has
bestowed bearing during her the past eleven years
diplomas and gold autograph 1535 female signa¬
ture crosses, upon
servants family. remaining forty years with one
ducing Texas State is now in the the Union. largest wool-pro¬
.‘.T.
SPRING.
There’s something in .>
That’s new and sweet and rare-;
Ascent of summer things,
A whirr as if of wings.
There’s sometmn ' uhat new
In the color of the blue
That’s in the morning sky.
Before the sun is high.
And though on plain and hill,
’Tis winter, winter still,
There’s something seems to say
That winter’s had its day.
And all this changing tint,
This whispering stir, and hint
Of bud and bloom and wing,
Is the coming of the spring.
And to-morrow or to-day
The brooks will break away
From their icy, frozen sleep,
And run and laugh and leap.
And the next thing, in the woods,
The catkins in their hoods
Of fur and silk will stand,
A sturdy little band.
And the tassels soft and fine
Of the hazel will untwine,
And the elder branches show
Their buds against the snow.
Bo, silently but swift,
Above the winter dri£
The long days gain and gain,
Until on hill and plain,
Once more and yet once more
Returning as before
We see the bloom of birth
Make young again the earth.
‘—Nora Perry, in Youth’s Companion.'
PITH AND POINT.
A capital skylight—The moon.
A cultivated ear—An ear of corn.
Man is eighty per cent, water. That
is why a boil makes him hot.
Raining than hailing cats and dogs is surely no
worse strangers.
A dentist refers to his collection of
extracted teeth as gum drops.
Before slates were in use people multi¬
plied on the surface of the earth.
The London Times is not in the soup.
It is in an Irish stew .—Chicago Times.
Children cry for the moon, when they
grow up they want the earth.— Siftings.
Scotland was once called Pictland, but
the land worth having was picked long
ago.— Siftings.
There is a man in Chicago who be¬
comes red-headed whenever he is angry.
He is entirely bald .—New York Tribune.
A man is rarely found who kicks when
his name is misspelled in the police court
reports. This is a notable exception to
the rule.
“I believe the Albany boat leaves this
pier, does it not?” “Leaves it every
trip, ma’am. Never knew it to take the
dock up the river yet.”— Judge.
They have discovered a chalk mount¬
ain in Montana, and we expect to see an
immediate improvement in the complex,
ions of the ladies .—New York News.
Oh, In my the love winter is like o’ the a red, red rose
that, lover year;
And as every knows,
Is very, very dear.
—Life.
Senior Surgeon—“How’s that case of
heart trouble coming on?” Junior
Surgeon (forgetting himself)—“It’s all
settled, doctor; she accepted me this
morning.”
Mrs. Tibbs—“Just think! that dia¬
mond that Mrs. Jibbs wears used to be¬
long to a hideous idol in Japan.” Mrs.
Snibbs—“Well, it hasn’t improved its
setting much.”
musician A young lady who aspired to fame as a
went one day to Rubinstein for
advice. She played for him and then
asked: “What shall I do?” “Get mar¬
ried,” was the repl •.
Augustus Doody (to chambermaid)—
“Aw—aw—I’m tired of boarding—aw.
I’m looking for a flat. ” Chambermaid—
“An did ye have to lave home to find
wan ?"—Texas Siftings.
Old Lady—“Little boy, what would
your father do if he should find you
smoking?” Little Boy—“He’d (puff)
prob’ly cigars .”—New lick me; York this Ledger. is (puff) one o’ bis
Mr. Gibbs (meeting his son late at
night)—“Where time night, are you going at this
of John? On no good
errand, I’ll warrant.” John- “No, sir;
I was going to look for you.”— Life.
“My writing isn’t pretty, but it is
plain,” chirography apologized had given a young the woman editor whose
and general dilapidation. paresis
replied, ill-naturedly, “Yes, yes,”
she “it resembles
you.”
A sunbeam so bright from the heavens did
And stray
got lost on the earth—so the story
books say.
The refuge it sought can arouse no surprise
For snugly it rests in a pretty girl’s eyes.
Merchant Traveler.
“Sir,” said she, “do you expect me, a
saleslady at the dry goods emporium, to
marry a common clerk?” “I am not a
common clerk,” he answered; “I am
a salesgent.” She fell into his arms and
murmured, “I am thine.”
Alarmed weeping! Mother—“Why, What’s the my daugh
ter, Daughter (bride month)—"I—I matter?”
of a
have Alarmed been Mother—“Well?” shopping, or trying to.”
“I find husband has Daughter— paid cash
and hasn’t my credit always
any anywhere.”
in Anxious tears! What Mother—“Why, ha3 happened?” my dear,
Mar¬
ried Arthur Daughter—“I—I morning got angry at
this and said a lot of—
of mean things, and then he said a lot of
meaner ones, and—and I couldn’t think
of couldn’t!” anything mean enough to say back, I
husband)—“See, Young Wife (in boarding-house to
George, I have washed
out ing. a and couple saved of handkerchiefs this morn¬
ten cents laundry.”
little George (enthusiastically)—“You right are a
treasure. I am going out
now and buy an extra cigar. Economy
is wealth.”— St. Paul Pioneer-Press.
Policeman—“Come, young after woman, the
you must not loiter here
audience has dispersed.” Young Woman
—“Please, sir, I have business here.”
“Policeman—“Well, whatisit?” Young
Woman (blushing)—“I am the young
lady that’s engaged to the automaton
chess player, and I am waiting for him
to take me America,