Newspaper Page Text
KNOXVILLE, GEORGIA.
The English papers call attention to
the remarkable revival of trade shown
during the past year.
The millions of various and sundry
English syndicates are going rapidly into
the purchase of Southern land.
Spain collects a fairly large revenue,
but at a ruinous cost. It is doubtful
whether half reaches the Treasury.
The population of the United States
grows 100,000 each month from births,
and about 500,000 a year by immigrants.
Unless all signs fail, says the San Fran¬
cisco Chronicle., this is going to be a bo¬
nanza year for the California farmers and
fruit growers.
Minnesota has passed a law providing
for executions before sunrise, and allow¬
ing the condemned to invite three persons
to witness their execution.
English was the language used at the
Samoan conference, for the first time on
such diplomatic occasions, owing to
Americans coming into European politics.
Attempts at suicide, more or loss suc¬
cessful, according to the nerve and skill
of the would-be self-murderer, are getting
to be as common items of new^ observes
the Chicago Herald, as small tires.
A new law in Madagascar gives a hus¬
band the power to chastise his wife with
a regulation whip only, and does awaj
with clubs and draystakes entirely. The
whole world is progressing, even if slow¬
ly*
Ex-Mayor Abram Hewitt, of New York
city, startled the guests at a recent ban¬
quet in London by assuring them that the
Southern States would ultimately bo the
centre of the hardware trade of the
world. ,
There are twenty-two missionary socie¬
ties in the United States managed by wo
men. These societies supported 751 mis
sionaries last year, and raised $1,038,233.
Since their organization they have con¬
tributed $10,335,124.
A land of milk and honey was the
Mecca of the ancients. In these days,
exclaims the Detroit Free Press, only one
person in nine can cat honey without
' having colic, and only one in ten can
drink milk without being made bilious.
Here is a prophecy by the Albany (N.
Y.) Times: It is probably not too ex¬
travagant to say that at the next centen¬
nial of Washington’s inaugural we shall
travel by air machines; that we shall run
over to London or Rome, as now we run
down to New York, in a few hours.
The Captain of the English bark Home¬
ward, just returned to Liverpool from
Australia, says that he was followed 1550
miles on the voyage by a shark thirty-five
feet long, which probably expected a
sailor to fall overboard. The creature
finally accepted a pair of old boots and
guit. s:
A memorial to Congress was introduced
in the Florida House of Representatives
asking that the United States propose to
Spain a guarantee of $100,000,000, to be
paid in twenty annual instalments of
$5,000,000 each, for the purchase of
Cuba, the United States to assume a pro¬
tectorate over the island until the entire
sum is paid.
New York city is growing so fast that
its school system cannot keep up. Hun¬
dreds of children are running wild in
every street in the vast district between
Eighty-seventh and One Hundred and
Sixth streets, because there are no school
houses. The Commissioners of Educa¬
tion are trying to provide temporary
school accommodation in manufactories
and private houses so as to comply with
the law.
The recent death of the young Emperor
of Annam, at Tonquin, is now looked
upon with suspicion. According to Dr.
Lagrange, of Bordeaux, who was former¬
ly employed in the Court of Hue, when
the Regency Council resolve to get rid of
nn unsatisfactory Emperor they present
him with three dishes, on one of which
there is a dagger, on the other a silken
cord, and on the third poison. His Im¬
perial Majesty has only to take his choice.
A newspaper syndicate recently offered
William E. Gladstone the sum of $25,
000 for a series of twenty-five articles on
subjects of current interest. The follow¬
ing reply to this proposition has just been
received: “At my age the stock of brain
power does not wax, but wanes. And
the public calls upon my time leave me
only a fluctuating residue to dispose of.
All idea of a series of efforts is, there¬
fore, I have finally decided, wholly be¬
embrace-’*
AS WE VIEW IT.
Yonder landscape, regal in its splendor,
Smiling with a look half proud, half tender.
Seems a shrouded corpse when deuse
roll.
life is glorious when the rays of duty
Shine upon it from a loving soul;
But tes hills and glades are robbed of beauty
If a selfish mist hangs o’er the whole.
Scorning this great fact, the base man loses
Truth’s best diamond, priceless if he
it;
Lifo is good or bad, as each ono chooses,
Life is as we view it.
Wanting wealth of heart, the miser’s treasure,
Now too small to purchase lofty pleasure,
Soon will be a deathbed pang or worse.
Love, contentment, goodness, hopes ethereal,
Make the peasant, slender though his purse,
Vastly richer than the whole material,
Starr-illumed, unconscious universe.
Mental wealth, whose very touch entrances,
Boundles lies for all whose minds pursue it;
Man is rich or poor, just as he fancies:
Wealth is as we view it
Life’s flame, flickering feebly in the strong¬
est,
Oft blown out, is soon burnt at the longest;
Frail we live; we’re nothing in our graves.
Almost awful now, yet daily heightening,
Is our power, that rides the foaming waves,
Weighs the planets, grasps the leaping light¬
ning,
Changes fire and air to docile slaves.
Man can humble Nature if she dares him,
Set her some hard task and make her do it;
Man is weaker than the steed th at bears him:
Power is as we view it.
Knowing not where Truth’s first step com¬
mences,
Since the sages say our very senses
Teach but fictions, dark we live and die.
Priceless thoughts that time in its long trav¬
els
Through past ages gathered, open lie;
Science shows the cipher that unravels
Nature’s secrets, wiiton earth and sky,
But the wondrous volume spread before us
Needs eternity to read right through it.
Allis darkness! Floods of light float o’er us!
Truth is as we view it.
One faint gasp, and then the low death rat¬
tle!
Thus we end it, beaten in the battle,
Losing all things with our parting breath.
Life has glories but.intensely brighter
Is the glory of a noble death,
When the soul, its load each moment lighter,
Heedless now of what the vain world saith,
Seeing visions, pain sublimely scorning,
Feels the icy hand, yet dares to woo it:
Death is starless night, or radiant morning,
Death is as we view it,
— J. U. Chapman, in the Academy.
A NOBLE REVENGE.
During the siege of Sebastopol almost
every step of earth round this mighty
fortress in the Crimea was steeped with
human blood. Thousands of Frenchmen,
Englishmen, Italians and Turks had
fallen by Russian bullets or been carried
off by cholera or other diseases. Still,
the fortress defied the united exertions
of the allied armies. On June 18, 1855,
the French had, indeed, with wonderful
bravery, attempted to storm the Malakoff
Tower, considered to be the key of
Sebastopol; but they were repulsed,with
immense losses, by the Russians. On
September 8 a second attack was to be
made on the Malakoff, and on the pre¬
ceding day the zouaves gave themselves
up to tbp few amusements which the camp
afforded them.
The zouave is always a merry soldier;
he laughs at everything—-at many things
at which he ought not laugh—at life, at
death, of the cholera, at poverty, at gun#,
and cannon. On that-evening the mer¬
riest among the zouaves were the two
brothers, Charles and Victor Carabine,so
called because they knew no other father
than their musket. They were not even
certain they were brothers; the chief
proof of their relationship was their
mutual affection. They were as like,too,
in face, as they were in heart. Victor
was to-day telling all sorts of funny
stories; they seemed to think little about
the terrible day which was to dawn on
the morrow.
All the bells of Sebastopol and all the
trumpets and drums of the French camp,
too, announced noon on September 8,
1855. A signal sounded from the hill
where General Polissier had posted him¬
self with his staff, and with sharp eye he
was following all the movements of the
army. Before this signal General Mac
Mahon, who commanded the First Di¬
vision, throw three battalions of zouaves
against the left side of thp Malakoff.
Charles and Victor Carabine had the
honor to stand in the vanguard. With
their comrades they crossed the enemy’s
trench, climbed up the breastwork, and
were soon inside. Colonel Collineau led
them. He received a shot in the head as
he fell upon the Russians, but he quickly
bound up his wound with his handker¬
chief, waved his sword and rushed into
the fray.
Charles Carabine had a young Russian
officer opposed to him, who had already
cut down five or six zouaves with his
sword, Charles rushed upon him,in order
to avenge his comrades, and disarmed the
officer with the first blow of his sword.
But the Russian had already seized a
heavy fragment of a shell, which ha was
m the act of hurling at his foe, Victor,
who was fighting about fifteen paces off
from his brother, saw the danger in which
he was, and fired at the Russian.
ball struck upon the eagle of his helmet,
without eve# causing the officer who
it to wince. Meanwhile the great
of iron had smitten Charles to the ground.
In a moment Victor is at his side; but
comes too Jate—the huge piece of
had crushed Charles’s head.
It is a terrible sight (hat meets his eyes;
to the right, Charles dead at hi# feet,
his foe, fighting fiercely as ever; to
;eft, on the top of the parapet, he
Corporal Lihaut, the brave boy of Paris,
unfurling the standard of the zofrifres,
and close to him MacMahon planting
sword on the ground they had taken.
Urged on by the madness of
and thirst for revenge, Victor
‘•‘This -way, comrades;’.’ mid like a
his companions rush down upon
Russians. The Cantain who had
Charles is cut down, together with
soldiers, and hurled into the trench.
he dead or alive? The zouaves
know, but at 5 o’clock they are
of Sebastopol.
Victor was made Sergeant for
bravery during the attack. He
with his comrades through the suburb
Karabelnaia as sword in hand they
the Russians to the bridge, which
their last refuge. The city was on
in several places. Victor came at
before a house whose appearance
that it belonged to people of high rank.
It was the dwelling of a rich
of Sebastopol; perhaps one of the
of the defense, whose military skill
cost the French so much blood.
ance again awoke in Victor’s breast.
The house did not seem to be
deserted. If he could only find a brother
here to butcher as they had butchered his
brother—hearts that he could rend as his
had been rent. Such was the revengeful
feelings of his heart.
He will avenge himself by plunder, if
cannot by murder. He will take gold,
there is no blood to shed. He now
on the threshold of the rich house.
now strides through a porch filled
flowers. Flowers in the midst of
bloody massacre! But whence comes
that the zouave hesitates? Close to the
some children’s playthings are
soldiers, a sword and a copper
the uniform of a little four-year
artilleryman. Little children have
been rehearsing the tragedy which
father has been playing! Victor
on; he penetrates into the drawing¬
which had been abandoned in
and dismay. The zouave casts a
glance on the treasures which
owners could not take with them—a
booty for the soldier, if they had not
his brother!
He was on the point of calling in his
to plunder, when he heard a
cry above him. A shell
fallen into the upper story of the
The zouave hastened up and
in a room, in the midst of the ruins
by the explosion, a young mother,
dead, and a child in her arms.
“The poor boy!” cried Victor,horrified
the sight, and he forgot everything—
dead brother, his revenge, the victory,
and the rich booty. He
to the help of the mother—he,
never remembers to have had a
himself—he seeks to restore her
life. But all his efforts to restore her
life are vaiu.
“Come,” he says to himself, “it is no
nothing will help her. Now, let
see to saving the child,” and he looks fhe
the little boy, who has fallen to
and stares with terror at bis dead
and his unknown enemy.
The zouave sought for the victor’s re¬
There it is before him! To pro¬
an innocent life! to give a father to
orphan. He who had himself been an
from his birth. But what does
discover as he takes up the child, and
comes his confusion? He had
on the table a gilded helmet, and on
helmet the black eagle and the crest
he had seen on the officer who
his brother,
This, then, is his wife whom ho has be-/
his eyes—this is his son whom he is
to save! Victor, who has over¬
the cholera and faced death in a
forms, sinks down upon a chair.
struggles in a terrible conflict with
his sword seems to move at his
and his musket seems to cry “Fire!”
another flgure t $tood between him and
slain brother—that of the dead mother
the child, who seemed to be kneeling
him aii with clasped h ands.
“Oh! I sufficiently avenged! No
the zouave exclaims, springing
and then these words come into his
1 ‘Whatsoever yo do unto one of
little ones ye do it unto me.”
with gentle hands he took up the
child, whose father had killed
Carabine, and bearing him close
his heart he passed with indifference
the silver plate without heeding the
and rich dresses.
On the evening of that day the zouave
with the little Russian in his
to his tent, and prepared for him as
a supper as ho could, and his rough
vied with each other in provid¬
for “the little eagle,’’and preparing
a nest as soft as that of his mother.
Several months had passed since these
events. Peace was signed at Paris, and
Carabine, with his comrades, had
to the capital, taking the
“young black eagle” with them.
About the middle of January, 1856, an
old man and a young lady in deep mourn¬
very which pale from the effects qf ill¬
from she had scarcely recov¬
at a hotel in Paris from St.
The first thing they did was
drive to the barracks in the rue de la
and inquire for Sergeant Victor
“You mean the Lieutenant,”
a groom; “he lives a few’steps
here,” and he told them the street
number. The young lady did not
get into the carriage again, but led
old man to the house which had been
out to them.
Lieutenant Victor was at home. The
two strangers went up one story, rang at
bell of a small door, and stood before
Lieutenant. He started when he saw
and led them to his modest roqm.
A writing table, four formed chairs, whole a camp bed,
a stand of arms, the of his
furniture. No—we have forgotten some¬
thing—a cradle stood in the room, which,
by its comfort and elegance, contrasted
very much with the rest of the furniture.
On the officer’s table, among his books,
papers and segars, stood tin solders, ar¬
ranged in order of battle, which were
commanded by a child with fair hair,
whose clothes were worth six months of
a zouave’s pay. The young lady had
scarcely glanced at the child before she
Utterod a loud cry, rushed up him to cm
brae#him and then fell fainting into the
old gentleman’s arms, Victor at once
recognized the mother of the “little
black eagei,” the wife of his brother's
murderer, whom he had left for dead in
her room at Sebastopol. She it was, in¬
deed, accompanied by her father.
her recovery she had passed three months
been led to him at last, as we have just
seen.
“I understand it all,” said Victor, ai
he wiped a tear from his eye, as he be¬
held the mother embracing her child;
“but if I know your story, madam, , you
do not yet know mine. And he told
her m a whisper, so that the child should
not hear it, about the attack on the Mala
koff and the death of Charles. The
young lady , , turned . , away , her eyes and the
old man was silent. “You see how I
have avenged myself,” concluded the
zouave.
“I shall never forget it!” exclaimed
the mother, as with eyes full of tears she
looked now at the rosy cheeks, now at
the silken cradle. Ask of me all my
fortune and Twill give it to you for my
son.”
“One moment,” said Victor, placing
his hand on the fair head; “the child is
mine and I can only give him up to his
father, while I leave to him the choice of :
thc weapons,” he added gloomily, with a
fierce look. i
“Be silent, unhappy man!” groaned
the old gentleman; “his father is no!
ing longer dress living. Do you not see the mourn- j
of the widow? His body was '
found September 9 at the Malakoff. ” '
on
“Good!” said Charles’s brother in a low .
voice, so that the young lady should not j j
hear. “May God forgive him, as my
brother doubtless has forgiven him!
Madam, ” he continued, as he turned away
his head in order to conceal his emotion,
“let there be peace between us, as there
is between France and Russia. Take
your child back, and never tell him the
story of his father !”
“I promise it, sir; but I shall tell him
yours,” replied the mother, as sh<* gave
the Lieutenant her hand. Victor pressed
it, and then gazed for a long time into
the eyes of the “little eagle.”
“You must leave me, my child,” he
said in a choked voice; “you won’t see
Papa Carabine again.” The child sprang
up on the zouave s knees.
“He shall come and see you every day,
you will allow it, exclaimed the
mother. “I have settled with my father
Pans. ^
Victor passed his hand over his eyes,
drew a deep sigh, took the child once
more in his arms, filled his arms with
playthings, and carried him down to the
carriage.
“Get in, Lieutenant,” said the lady, as
she made room for him. “We must ac¬
custom Alexander to the separation, and
I want to show you the way to my hotel.”
Victor hesitated, but the child’s tears
decided him.
“Ah! your name is Alexander, like your
Emperor,” he said, smiling, “Well he
has made peace, and peace is a beautiful
thing—after war!”
He got into the carriage and led his
adopted son into the hotel, where he
found the same treasures that he had trod¬
den under foot at Sebastopol.
And afterward there was often to be
in the drives of Paris a Russian car
riage, in which sat an old gentleman
with white beard, a lady dressed in black,
a child of six or seven years old, and a
Captain of zouaves, decorated with the
cross pf the Legion of Honor. It is the
Countess 0——, who vowed to wear
mourning all her life tor her husband,
and for Charles Carabine, her father
Prince Alexis K-, her son Alexander,
and Captain Victor Carabine, who won
his promotion to the cross during the
war against the Kabyles.— Chicagi
Herald.
Uncainiy Plants.
What, forsooth, is a fungus? A wilj
invader which, havingffiy some ungarded
entrance gained access, may do ail sorts
of mischief; may fill our cellar, for in¬
stance, and turn us out of house and
home, as one is reputed to have filled the
cellar of the wine merchant, barring the
door from within and threatening sum
mary eviction and what not? Is it not £
fearful parasite which, having found
lodging in the tissues of its unwilling
host, swells to proportions vast, a hidden
tumor, sending its human tdfeement victim all toe
soon forth from his of clay?
Even when not thus associated with
the destruction of nobler forms, fungi are
nevertheless held suspect. At best and
largest they are odd, peculiar, hiding ir
out-of-the way places, far from “the
warm precincts of the cheerful day;” “oil
color,” as men say, and owing little or no
allegience to our sovereign sun; pale,
ghastly things whose homes are with the
dead.
It remained for modern science to dig¬
nify the world; nothing shall be stranger
to her touch benign. Even the fungi
come into prominence as thpy pome into
light, Odd as they may appear and mys¬
terious too, they, like some odd and pecu¬
liar people, do greatly improve upon ac¬
quaintance. Certainly no one can look in
upon a basket of Boleti fresh from August
woods and not greatly admire their deli¬
cate tints, their yellows, purples, browns
and grays. Fungi, once for all, are plants,
for the most part very simple ones too;
in their larger forms more commonly use¬
ful than noxious, and positively sources
of serious injury and detriment in those
species only which to mankind at large
are unseen, unknown and unsuspected.—
Popular Science Monthly.
Hedgehogs as Fruit Gatherers,
Gathering fruit can scarcely "be called
trapping, attributed and that yet there is a stfatagem
to “walking bunch of
toothpicks” called the hedgehog which
may properly have a place in that cate¬
gory. It seems that fruit is frequently
found in the hedgehog’s sleeping apart¬
ment, and its presence there is explained
in this remarkable way. It is known that
hedgehogs often climb' walls and run off
upon low boughs, and, instead of scramb¬
ling down in the same manner, they
boldly make the leap from the top to thq
ground, sometimes ten or twelve feet,
They coil into a ball m the air,strike upon
their armor of spines, and bound away
unharmed. In taking this jump they
have been seen to strike upon fallen fruit,
which, thus impaled upon their spines,
by thcm vrf thiS has
fuel Zl - -
y H S T the ) 6 r
winter homes.-St.LauuOlobe-Demcrat. i |
HOUSEHOLD AFFAIRS.
BREAD FRITTERS.
Soak two cupfuls of stale bread
crumbled into bits overnight in a pint
0 f milk . In the morning add two beaten
eggs, and as much flour as will make the
batter drop from a spoon. Sift a little
baking powderthrough the flour, These
may be made thin like pancakes if you
prefer, in which case add a handful of
cerealine or Indian meal. Servo these
with link sausages that have been split
and broiled. This is an unusual way of
cooking sausages, but it deserves to be
better known. They arc more digestible,
md quite free from fat. A few drops of
orange juice sprinkled over them is a de¬
lieious addition__ American Agriculturist.
banana pudding
This is my recipe for banana puddin^.
Three four bananas, if large; four, if small;
tablespoonsfuls of granulated tapi
0C a; three of sugar; a pinch of salt; a
pint and a half of water. Let it cook un
til it looks clear (like boiled starch),
Have ready your pudding dish. I use a
crystal sauce dish, as the pudding looks
yo pretty in it. Wet it in cold water, so
is not to break the dish with the hot tapi
oca . Put a layer of the tapioca an inch
thick over the bottom of the pudding ba°
dish; then slice thin a layer of the
nanas, then another of tapioca and so on;
have the tapioca for the top of the dish,or
last layer; serve with cream, or if one
likes to be at the trouble and time, whip
some of the cream and put on the top of
the pudding. I think anyone will say it
is a delicious pudding. I have friends
who never eat bananas that are fond of
them in this form .—New York Observer.
t omelets.
Among the many omelets made with
eggs; the most economical are those which
gain in bulk from the addition of some
ingredient cheaper than eggs; for in
stance, if a cupful of cold salt fish is on
hand, melt together a tablespoonful each
of butter and flour, gradually stir in a
cupful each of milk and water, or use a
pint of water; add the cold fish free from
bones, three ' eggs beaten for a minute,
and a high*seasoning of salt and pepper;
stir the mixture over the fire until tlie
eggs are cooked to the desired degree,
and serve oh toast. The delicacy of this
dish may 'be increased by separating the
yolks and whites and beating the latter
to p stiff froth, stirring them in lastly.
With cold boiled rice a favorite Southern
omelet can be made: Mix a cup of cold
boiled rice with three eggs, salt and
popper, the yolks mixed with the rice
and the whites beaten to a stiff froth,
mixed lightly in; just as it is finished,
pour the omelet in a hot pan with table¬
spoonful of butter, and bake in a hot oven.
— Philadelphia, Press.
now to keep things clean.
A good way to clean an iron sink is tc
rub well with a wet cloth in kerosene
oil.
To keep tinware nice and bright, scout
it every two or three weeks with finely
sifted coal ashes.
Strong brine may be used to advantage
in washing bedsteads. Hot alum water
is also recommended for this purpose.
If your dishes must bo washed in hard
water, add a little milk to tlie water and
do without soap. Try this and see if you
don’t like it.
Soiled coat collars cap be rubbed with
ammonia, and then a woolen cloth laid
over and a hot flat iron held just over the
cloth to steam it without pressing.
Carpets should be thoroughly beaten
en the wrong side first, and then on the
right side, so as to leave it fresh. Spots
may be removed by*the use of ox gall or
ammonia and water.,
If your flat irons trouble you, by drop
pingDlack specks from the top or sides
when ironing, take them in a pan of
soapsuds and give them a thorough rusting. wash¬
ing and dry quickly to prevent
In cleaning oil cloths us© no soap, or
scrubbing brush; but wash off the dirt
with wqter obcl flannel. Then go over
with milk, and rub with a soft brush till
dry and shining.— Housewife.
art of cooking Fish.
Fish must be fresh and thoroughly
cooked. It must be washed, wrapped in
a salted cloth and put in a cool place un¬
til wanted. Never put it in the ice chest
to impair the milk and butter. It should
be baked or boiled. Salmon is the only
Bsh that is not rendered tasteless by boil¬
ing, for the reason that it is richer than
all others in oils and juices. All kinds
of fish are improved by the addition of
vinegar or lemon juice to the stuffing, or
to the water in which they are boiled, or
they may be simply rubbed over with the
acid before boffins' or baking. The acid
counteracts the excess of alkali always
found in fish. If they are to be broiled
the broiler must be rubbed with fat, to
prevent sticking, and the fish turned of¬
ten to prevent burning-. If they are to
be baked they can be lifted from the pan
without breaking, if a strip of cloth is
put under them, across the pan. The
cloth to be of cotton and to be rubbed
with fat to prevent sticking.
Salted fish, like salted meat, has lost
fe nourishment, and is only serviceable
as a relish, The varieties of fish balls,
croquettes, and-other simillSr prepara¬
tions, are of value only on account of the
vegetables, eggs, milk and butter which
#hay contain.
Shell fish, namely oysters and clams,
are most easily procured, and the most
healthful of this variety of food. If
oysters arp to be cooked, they must first
be washed and drained. If the liquor,
that always accompanies oysters, is to. be
used, it must be strained and coftkpd first,
and carefully skimmed before the oysters
are added. When t-hfe edges of the oysters
begin to cqrl they are done. nutritious* Both oysters
and clams are most when
slightly e goked.— Detro iU ji’rce Press.
In New York city las^year the firemen
ivere called upon to battle with 3202 fires,
which 401. did damage aggregating $1,566,
The largest traffic in eggs in the world
issaid to take place at Rudolfsheim, a
3ubwb ° f Vienna. A large public egg
A LESSON FOR LAGGARDS, f
You think of taking a journey some day;
You have talked it over for years a
years;
Yet somehow or other you make delay,
Until further and further away appears
The beautiful goal; and I tell you now
To bind yourself by a solemn vow
To cross the Rubicon. Pluck up heart!
For you’ll never get there unless you sta
There looms before ii
you from day to day
A task that you dread to undertake; te
So it hangs like a cloud upon your way
Through which the sunshine can novo
break.
And I tell you now that the better plan
Is to do the work as quick as you can;
Over your fears a victory win.
For you’ll never get through if you don’
begin!
With the bravest and busiest keep abreast,
Nor through love of indolence lose you:
place,
For in each endeavor to do your best
You raise the hopes of the human race.
Be not content to grovel below,
But rise to your duties with faith aglow 1;
Let your aims be high, and strive to excel;
For he who does better must first do well!
The hearty that gives way to its doubts anc
fears,
That idly dreams when there’s work to do,
Will find itself, before many years,
Beggared and bankrupt through ant
through.
There aro journeys to take and tasks to bt
done, A
From early morning till set of sun,
And triumphs to win, as none can deny,
And you’ll never succeed unless you try!
—Josephine Pollard, in Neva York Ledger,
HUMOR OF THE DAY.
/
Woodlark—A picnic in a grove.
A cool proceeding—An ice trust.
In the soup—Well, that’s the/cook’:
secret.
It must be very exciting for. the insec
world to see an antelope.
The motto of the Socialist—One coun
try, one flag, one pocketbook.
Ships are very polite. They alwayi
meet the ocean’s wave with a bow.
Of all sad words by writer penned,
The saddest arc these: “No dividend.” >
—New York Mercury
If there is one thing more than anothe:
that “goes against the grain,” it is 3
reaper.
With the camel, as with the.-diner, thi
desert is frequently the last course__
Harper's Bazar.
We believe that an Italian who shoulc
start out with a noiseless /hand orgai
would make money.
A lisping young miss/ said she hope;
to be married before she was as “old atl
Mith Thuthelah.”— Siftings.
The woodman’s axe is an inconsisten
weapon. First it cuts a tree down an;
then cuts it up —Lowell Courier.
Littlcend—“My wife never gives mi
any rest so long as she is awake. ” Henpeq
—“Pshaw! my wife even talks in hd
sleep.”
Did you ever observe that .'while yo
can can’t see see through through a glass glass eye?— window, Harper yo|
a 1
Bazar.
Never give to a young man on a sm
salary a present of. a high silk hat. B
cannot afford to dress up to it.—Chian
Tribune. #
Mrs. Slimdiet (boarding-house keepei
—“Isn’t this coffee just a leetle thin?
Cook—“I ain tmade the coffee yet,mun
that’s water.”— Time.
A man last week came very, near gel
ting his wife arrested by leaving $5 i
counterfeit change in his vest pocket ovt
Bight.— Washington Critic.
Cadillac—“Don’t you think a fii
beard would become me, Miss Bessie?
Miss Bessie—“Indeed I do, Mr. Cadillac
it would hide yoiffi face. ”—Boston Beam
The poet inscribed a dainty rhyme,
His love’s charans to rehearse;
But no one saw that rhyme sublime
For the editor was a-verse.
—Somerville .Journal..
“Ah, Malinda, you are indeed one of'
hundred, and—” “Thank you, Mi
Montague, I prefer to be considered a
on© of eighteen, as I am.. One of a hui
dred!” „
He who is bashful always tries i
To woe with the language of his eyes;
But my ill-luck all else surpasses—
I am bashful and I wear blue glasses.
— Harper's Bazar.
Jinks—“Do you supposeaman with
family can live on a dollars day and be
Christian?” Binks—“Of course.
can’t afford to beanything'elsc .”—Bosto
Beacon.
Guide (to American tourist in Venici
—“You will want to see the Lion of Si
Mark, of course, sir?” Tourist—“Yes,,
s’pose so. About what time do the
feed him?”— Life.
“If a naughty girt would hurt you
you would forgive her, like a good gif
wouldn’t you?” asked a teacher of
little girl. Yes, ma’am,” replied th
child, “if I couldn’t catch her.”
Old Cashbox (to applicant for cleri
ship)—“Have you any bad habits, youn
man?” Applicant (with humility)—“
sometimes think I drink too much col
water with my meals .”—Boston Herald
“Hast thou ever yet loved, Henrietta?'
I sighed. “I should rather imagine
had,” she replied. “Oh, did not m
glances my feeling^ betray, when yo:
helped me the third time to pudding tc
& TheConrtof the Pope.
The Court of Pope Leo XIH. is saidt
comprise 1160 persons. There arc if
valets, 120 house prelates, 170 prii
honorary chamberlains, 6 chamberlains,, 200 extral
chamberlains, chamberlains, 130/supemumeii nobll
30 officers of the
guard, and 60 guardsmen, 14 officers q
the Swiss guard and palace guard, 7 honq
rary chaplains, 20 private secretaries, 1|
stewards and masters of the horse, 6|
doorkeepers*
The weight of fish landed in Gi
Britain and Ireland last year was 575,
tons, of which somewhat less than 1