Newspaper Page Text
UL! i,
KNOXVILLE, GEORGIA.
In Sweden, Denmark, Bavaria, Bader
and Wurtemburg there is practically nc
one who cannot read or write.
The civil service rules affect nearly
30,000 officials in the employ of the
United States Government.
A return shows that no fewer than
twenty-nine persons died from starvation
in London in twelve months.
The leader of the Soudanese dervishes.
Nad-el-jumi, boldly announces that he
has set out to conquer the world.
The Italian murderer of the future has
been done for by the philanthropists a!
last. He is never more to be executed.
During the Paris Exhibition no less
than sixty-nine international congresses
will meet in the French metropolis under
Government patronage.
Says the Detroit Free Press: “The
talk of annexing Canada to the United
States continues unabated, and in so
friendly a spirit that no harm can result.”
The New York Herald has discovered
that English ladies take a great deal
more interest in politics than the wives
and daughters of American candidates
do.
It is a fact worth moralizing over,
opines the Chicago Sun, that annually a
million tons of flax straw go to waste in
the United States, instead of being worked
into linen products.
The possessions of Trinity church, in
New York city, foot up to $140,000,000.
Rev. Dr. Morgan Dix, its pastor, has a
nominal salary of $12,000, but really re¬
ceives as much as he wants.
Speaking of the lower classes of Japan,
Mr. Arthur May Knapp, himself a mis¬
sionary to the “Yankees of the Orient,”
says they are morally much superior to
the corresponding classes in the United
States.
___________
The grizzly bear is following in the
footsteps of the buffalo and gradually
going hence. It is now only among the
most broken country of the territories
that he can be found at all, and he isn’t
half as full of ficiit as he used to be.
The income of a professional rat
catcher averages $1500 per year, an¬
nounces the Detroit Free Press, and there
are only ten of them in the United States.
The average income of lawyers is only
$700 per year, and the ranks are over¬
crowded.
Men living in other countries, and
owing allegiance to other powers, own
land enough in the United States to make
about ten States like Massachusetts, more
than the whole of New England, more
land than some governments own to sup¬
port a king.
The Cologne (Germany) Gazette pub¬
lished a column of American census
statistics which justify the prediction
that before the middle of the coming
century the western continent will be
studded with cities of 1,000,000 inhabi¬
tants and upward.
The colony on Pitcairn’s Island in the
South Pacific numbers 120 people, all
related by blood or marriage, and the
amount of money circulating among
them has never been over $80. The one
who gets hold of $20 of this is consid.
ered a millionaire.
j One Chicago ice wagon, driven by a
pale-faced and harmless looking young
man, has killed five persons this season,
and it may be observed that the per¬
formance is not yet over. Every coro¬
ner’s jury exonerates the driver and cer¬
tifies that he is very careful and consid
erate.
The fire losses in the United States
during the first six months of the year
aggregated o-er $70,000,000, against a
total loss of but $46,500,000 for the
same period last year. In loss of life
and losses of property through other
agencies the first half of 1889 has been
notable.
The New York Mercury observes:
“The Quakers are practical, if anything,
and, believing that the royal road to a
man’s heart lies through his stomach,
they have determined to convert the noble
red man through the cooking stove as a
means of grace. Already they have laid
btefore President Harrison a proposition
to send women among the Indians to
teach them housekeeping, and Congress
is expected to make an appropriation for
this purpose. It all depends on the char-
UNDER A CHESTNUT TREE.
When-in the drowsy lull of afternoon
I see the lazy shadows draw their trail
Athwart the turf, and hear the dove’s low”
croon
Float from the distance on the summer
gale;
When from their leafy village overhead
The squirrels chatter in their ceaseless
play—
Then, stretched at length upon a mossy
bead,
I love to dream the sultry hours away.
Then all the world takes on a lazy mood,
And nature seems to pause amid the heat,.
And, buried in a thoughtful cakn, to brood
Above her children crowding at her feet.
Out there the shadows sleep beneath the rays
That beat upon them with so fierce a
glance,
And just above them in the trembling haze
The vagrorn puff-balls weave an airy
dance.
Down by the pool, on whose sedge-girdled
breast
The merest ripple stirs in oily waves,
A minstrel robin lifts a haughty crest,
And looks and drinks, and drinks and
looks and laves.
Forth form their harbor, ’neath the willow
tree
Where lilies pave the pool a dusky green,
A fleet of ducks puts slowly forth to sea,
Solemn in progress and erect in mien.
There, on the highway, where it scars the
hill,
A .pair of oxen drag a cart’s dull weight,
While clouds of crimson dust the ether fill
And mark the progress of their patient
gait;
Down in the rye-patch where the’alders grow
The partridge pipes his mate to guard the
nest,
And where wild roses by the hedges blow
The bee and butterfly both sit and rest.
The scene is perfect. Not a single chord
In this sweet concert jars upon the soul.
I lie upon my Mother’s lap the lord
Of mighty dreams that cares cannot con¬
trol.
Strong with her strength I lie on Nature’s
breast
And like Antaeus am renewed again;
Most solace she gives when she’s most at rest.
Oh! mighty Mother, Healer of all pain.
—J. W. C. Johnston, in Atlanta Constitu¬
tion.
BENEATH HIM.
BY ELEANOR KIRK.
‘*1 would starve first!”
“Then starve!”
Uncle Adoniram Barney, as he was
called by all who knew him, had been
having a serious conversation with his
nephew Charles. Charles had lost his
temper entirely, and Uncle Adoniram had
at last reached the utmost limit of for¬
bearance. The question under discussion
was the advisability of the young man’s
seeking some occupation in which he.
would, be sure to earn his living.
Charles was twenty-one, and his uncle
up to this time had assisted him in every
possible manner, but, strangely enough,
though possessed of a fine intellect, care
fully cultivated, he had done nothing to
earn his own living. He had been un¬
willing to study for a profession, and at
this time had small prospect of obtaining
a situation, and smaller prospect of keep¬
ing a position if he had found one.
“If I could only find where I belong,”
Charles began again. He had cooled
down a little, and was disposed to argue
the point a trifle further. “I can never
make a good clerk or bookkeeper, and
you know as well as I do that I am
utterly lacking in mechanical ability. ”
“And the worst of all is, Charles, you
are utterly lacking in the quality of ap¬
plication,” Uncle Adoniram replied.
“You talk about your lacks as if they
were something to be proud of. If you
have got fair common sense and a fair
education you can make a good clerk or
a good bookkeeper, and you could learn
a trade if you wanted to. It is all bosh,
every bit of it, and now that you have
come to man’s estate you ought to be
ashamed of such childish balderdash. I
have given you the best advice I could
under the circumstances, and whether you
follow it or not is your own affair.”
“Decidedly, ” said Charles, rising in a
white heat. “I always supposed you
cared something about me; but when a
fellows’s only relative, and that relative a
rich man, advises him to look out for a
situation as car conductor, there can cer¬
tainly be but one opinion about it.”
“You are right, Charles,” said Uncle
Adoniram, ‘ ‘there can be but one opinion.
I decline for your own good, to go on
supporting you; and taking into consider¬
ation your constant failures to support
yourself, I advise you to try for a car con¬
ductor’s position. You will learn to be
accurate and attentive. You will know
what it is to work for your bread; and
this, in my opinion, you need to know
more than anything else.”
“Then you don’t care for the humilia¬
tion, the social ostracism, that will be
the inevitable results of such an occupa¬
tion?” the young man inquired as he
nervously turned the knob of the door he
had just opened.
“Not a red cent I" Uncle Adoniram re¬
plied. If a man is going to be cut by
his friends for earning in the only way
that is open to him an independent liv¬
ing, then social ostracism is the healthiest
thing that I can think of. The only thing
that should humiliate an able bodied man
is dependence upon others. You have
become so accustomed, Charles, to being
looked out for, that the alternative seems
very undesirable to you.”
This was “putting it hard,” as Uncle
Adoniram told himself afterwards; but the
case was desperate and heroic treatment
the only kind that wouldanswer. “Your
charity shall not be further trespassed
upon,” was the proud answer. “If
ever take a relative to bring up, Uncle
Adoniram, I will be still more generous,
and refrain from twitting him with how
much he has cost me. Here is the money
you gave me yesterday, and which I was
mean enough to take,” and the young
man emptied the financial contents of his
jackets on his uncle’s desk. . “ Since you
Uncle Adoniram was on the point of
calling his nephew back, but thought
better of it and sat perfectly quiet as the
angry man slammed the door and walked
down the street.
“TL^re was a good deal of
about that last performance,” said Uncle.
Adoniram, “but there was some honest
pride as well. I don’t just sect how the
boy is going to get along without money;
but I suppose he won’t starve as long as
his watch lasts.”
The old man was right. Charles
pawned the watch which had been left
him by his father, and then searched dil¬
igently for a job. He left nothing un¬
done to secure what he considered a
suitable situation, but his efforts were
useless. There was a call for mechanics
and employment enough for professional
men, but for him there was absolutely
nothing.
There were a hundred clerks and book¬
keepers to one situation, a gentleman to
whom he applied told him, and with a
touch of pity for the evident discourage¬
ment of his applicant asked him a few
sensible questions.
“Now if you understood stenography,”
he said, after a careful catechism, “I
could show you some court work which
would be very remunerative.”
Charles shook his head. His experi¬
ences were beginning to make him feel
very small.
“I should be glad to help you,” the
gentleman went on kindly, “but I really
don’t see any way to do it. I know of a
position you could have at once as car
conductor, but—”
The young man’s face was ablaze,, and:
his eyes looked as if they would strike
fire. “But what?” he asked, as his com¬
panion did not finish the sentence.
“If you were a relative of mine,” the
gentleman replied, “and had tried for
other positions and failed as you tell me
you have, I should say, put your pride in
your pocket and buckle to it. I should
tell you also to make use of every spare
moment, and study stenography, as if
your life depended upon it.”
“But when a man once takes such a
position,” Charles his began in feeble re¬
monstrance, face still scarlet.
“He is always obliged to keep it, you
were going to say,” the gentleman inter¬
rupted. “That is stuff and nonsense..
If you have the right pluck and ambition,
and applicationy-you can make your job
a temporary affair, a bridge across a
stream; and if you are above accepting
such a position, or too indolent and un¬
ambitious to work into something better
if you do accept it, then you are not
worth saving;” and with this the gentle-,
man turned away.
Charles had twenty-five cents of the
watch money left in his pocket. This
was the sum total of his earthly posses¬
sions. The way in which this gentleman
looked upon the pride which made him
hesitate about accepting the position of
ear conductor seemed the expression of
all business men from his uncle to the
present one. the
“Well, what do you say?” gentle¬
man inquired, returning a moment to
speak to him.
‘ ‘If you will show me how to secure
the situation you spoke of,” Charles re¬
plied, with a lip which would quiver a
little in spite of all he could do, “I will
go immediately and see about it.”
“Good for you!” said his companion.
“I will go with you,” and the rich
merchant passed his arm through that of
his struggling, poverty stricken com¬
panion, and in this way they sought the
office of the great railroad company. A
few brief words and the ugly business
was settled. The young man would take
his place the next morning at six o’clock,
with a small but sufficient salary.
“I have the best works on shorthand,”
the gentleman told Charles as they were
about' to part; “and if you will step
round to the house with me I should be
happy to lend you the books. My daugh¬
ter studied stenography for fun. It took
her one year to learn the system, by study¬
ing a little every day. You ought to be
able to beat a girl at the business.”
Charles smiled. Application? That
was what his uncle said he needed more
than any other qualification. Should he
take this man’s books, and promise him
to spend his spare time in the study of
stenography? How strangely bis affairs
were being taken out of his hands. The
young man had always believed that the
great business of the universe was taken
care of, but this was the first time that
he had ever felt that his small affairs
were in any way managed or directed.
Now it seemed to him as if his ways were
in some incomprehensible manner being
ordered.
Of course, there was neither generosity
nor justice in the matter, and everything
was all wrong; still some power outside
of himself was responsible, and he won¬
dered, as he looked over the strange
characters that evening in the book his
,new friend had lent him, which strag¬
gling mark his life was like. They all
meant something, that was one comfort
—some letters, some phrases; but the
zigzag character which stood for him
would doubtless be the one of ‘smallest
account. It might be an interrogation
point, he thought; surely no one asked
more questions or received less answers.
He had one meal that day. His remain¬
ing twenty-five cents must be saved for
breakfast the next morning. How he was
to manage for a full week without any
money was a physical and mathematical
problem which he was not equal to.
“Sufficient unto the day,” and “Think
not of the morrow,” were the last words
on his lips before going to sleep; and they
were repeated with so much reverence,
and such evident desire to get hold of
the faith which was dimly dawing upon
him, that his good angel must have felt
comforted.
Promptly at six the next morning the
young man took his place on his car. The
first thing to do was to sweep it out.
Charles Barney had never handled abroom
in his life, but he gave his mind to the
work, and succeeded in appearing much
less awkward than he felt. There waj a
good deal to learn, indeed much me e
than he supposed, but he listened to the
ntanerous instructions with attention, a ad
posed. Still it was distasteful enough,
and the poor fellow wondered if he should
ever get used to it. At noon, on his re¬
turn to the car station, he found a letter
from his new friend, with an enclosure of
five dollars.
“I had an impression” it said, “that
you were-entirely out of mqney. I tried
once when I was about your age to live
without eating. It didn’t work, I’m sure
it won’t in your case. Come in and see
me some time when you have leisure.
Keep up your courage and stick to your
stenography.”
The first thought that went through
the young man’s mind as he read and
■re-read this kind letter was that this rich
merchant didn’t feel himself above asso¬
ciating with a car conductor. To do him
justice, he recognized that this was a
very mean consideration. Then he won¬
dered how long it would be before he
could return the money, and concluded
he could do it in two weeks. Then and
not till then, would he call on the gentle¬
man.
Only an hour could be given to study
in the first twenty-four hours of his new
life; but this time was a refreshment in
stead of a drag, and when he put away
■his book for the sleep he must have, it
was with real reluctance.
He had been employed about two
months when one morning Uncle Adoni¬
ram stepped on his car. His first im¬
pulse was to pull his hat down over his
■eyes and avoid recognition if possible,
hut Charles Barney was learning manli¬
ness as well as application and be imme¬
diately thought better of it. The old
man did not look up when his nephew
gave him his change; but Charles said
then softly^ “Good to his morning, feet. uncle,” and
sprang
“Charles!” he exclaimed, grasping
the conductor’s hand. “Charles, my
boy, how do you do?”
There was abundant love and hearti¬
ness in Uncle Adoniram’s voice and man¬
ner, and there was something more that
was new to Charles. He knew now that
for the first time his uncle really re¬
spected him, and out of this a stronger
courage was born.
‘ ‘I have been very lonely without you, ”
the old man said, as he stood on the back
platform with his nephew; “andI have
been worried about you, too. Why have
you not been home, Charles?”
“Because I wanted to see if I was really
going to keep my position,” the young
man answered; “and because, uncle, I
wanted to rid myself of all feeling of hu¬
miliation before I saw you again.”
“Where do you stand in the matter
now?” Uncle Adoniram inquired, as he
a tear from his cheek. .
“Almost “Are on looking my feet,” for Charles replied.!
boy?” you anything else,:
my
“I am studying stenography with all
my might, uncle, and am getting along
finely. By and by I shall have mastered
it, and then I can always find employ¬
ment.”
“Your discipline has made a man oi
you, Charles!” said his uncle. “I knew
it would. Don’t stay away from the old
man, my boy. God bless and keep
you.”
The young man went home the next
day, for he felt that his uncle needed
him; conductor but he still kept his position as car
and studied every spare
moment. His uncle read to him, and
laughed at the strange characters he so
deftly put on paper, and in this manner a
year went by. Then Charles Barney
found more congenial employment,
helped to it by the merchant who had
been bis steadfast friend, and whose
daughter he ultimately married. He had
served an invaluable apprenticeship to the
inexorable taskmaster, Necessity, and had
been an apt scholar, not only learning
dispatch and application, but finding out
that a true man can ennoble the lowliest
labor.— Youth's Companion.
What a Bull Fight Costs.
The cost of one of the corridas may be
safely reckoned at not less than $7500.
There are generally six bulls killed, and
average from $350 to $500 each.
Horses are contracted for, and are bought
at simply “knacker” prices; sometimes
as many as twenty-five are done to death.
There are generally three espades, and
these, with theircuadrill&s, maybe taken,
one with another, at about $1250 each.
Then there is a very large number of as
sistants and attendants. A very heavy
rent is paid for the plaza, and the Govern¬
ment tax, or “contribution,” is also a
considerable item. The “gate” may be
estimated, given a “full house”—and it
is almost always fairly filled—at some
$10,000. I am told that as regards the
amount a famous espada may make that
Guerrita, a very famous espada, though
hardly more than a boy- -for he is still in
his twenty-fourth year—has already, at
only the beginning of the season, signed
$1100 engagements for sixty-four corridas, at
each! When it is calculated that,
at the outside, his following will not
take more than about $350 of this, the
a mount that is left appears a very fair
salary for a. man—or, to speak more cor¬
rectly, a lad—who probably had a diffi¬
culty in attaching his signature to his
contracts —All the Year Pound.
Largest Area of Plate Glass.
An ambitious firm in Boston recently
determined to have the largest area of
plate glass in their show window of any
in the country, and sent their order to a
great crystal establishment in Paris.
When the question of shipment was
brought into the bargain no steamship or
sailing vessel could be found which could
take the huge plates of glass on board
through its hatches. Therefore the pur¬
chase abroad was abandoned. Then came
the suggestion that the glass could bo
manufactured in Indiana. The contract
was made with Indiana manufacturers,
and the glass was perfected; but then
arose another difficulty. The great crystal
must be transported upright in a
The height of the bridges above
railroads Was found, and it was dis¬
that no railroad in the country
thus transport it to the Hub.
the ambitious firm was
to abandon their project, and
SCIENTIFIC AND INDUSTRIAL.
The garnet is a mixture of silica and
alumina.
The use of carbon brushes is said to be
of greatest value on railway motors.
The vampires of South America ex¬
hibit an unusual appetite for blood.
A new fence is made of soft steel, cut
while in the plate and drawn out after
the fashion of paper love baskets.
Steam fire engines worked by elec¬
tricity are proposed. They are light
enough to be drawn by one horse.
The electric lighting at the lighthouse
on Cape de la Heve in France is gener¬
ated from a motor which is run by
wind.
Bats are usually known to be either
insect eaters, like our common species,
or fruit eaters, like the fox-bats of India
and elsewhere.
A scientist, Dr. de Bausset, maintains
that a steel covered vacuum will float in
mid-air, and Bostonians have got up a
company to carry out his ideas,
The eophone, an instrument for de
termining the location of the source of
sounds for the benefit of navigators, has
been successfully experimented with.
It is claimed that there is no apparatus
for the transmission of energy that com¬
pares in simplicity and efficiency with the
dynamo-electric machine and the electric
motor.
Water as an extinguisher of the flames
of blasts in mines has been applied in a
novel manner—-as a powered solid—in a
form of explosive devised by E. Muller,
of Cologne.
Musicians who play on wind instru¬
ments contract emphysema, on account
of the strain brought to bear on the lungs
by thoracic muscles, while the expulsion
of air is hindered.
Those who use their voices a great deal
and are obliged to speak in loud tones
for a long time often in an impure atmos¬
phere, suffer greatly from the constant
strain of the vocal organs.
An expiditious way to lower the tem¬
perature of a small vessel of water is to
drop into it a few crushed crystals of
nitrate of ammonia. The crystals will re¬
duce the heat about 50 degrees.
Secrecy in telephonic communication
is said to be secured by the new method
of dividing the transmitting current so
that one portion may be sent over one
line and the remainder over another line.
There are about 100 species of mosquito
in existence, of which eight or ten in¬
habit England. No specially tropical
species is known in Britain, but a well
known British species was recently found
in Mexico.
Inventor Edison is at work on a “far¬
sight” machine which he hopes to have
perfected in time for the world’s fair in
1892. By its aid the inventor says it
will be possible for a man in New York
to see the features of a friend in Boston.
The quality of roof slates may be easily
tested by carefully weighing samples,
then putting them for a quarter is fairly of free an.
hour into boiling water that
from lime, saltpetre and ammonia; on
reweighing the slates, those that show
the greatest increase in weight are the
most capable of resisting deterioration.
Wliat the French Peasant Eats.
Bread, and plenty of it, is the grand
foundation of the French peasant’s die¬
tary. Potatoes are admitted as an ad¬
dition and a change, but not, as in Ireland,
as the staff of life. Salad in unlimited
quantity and frequency from the begin¬
ning to the end of its season; mache,
corn salad, or lamb lettuce—a great fa¬
vorite, although, being eaten, it leaves
an after taste of one’s having swallowed
drugs from an apothecary’s shop—dande¬
lion, green and blanched; radishes, little
red, round and long, and big black,
white, or yellow Spanish; lettuce, cos and
cabbage; watercress, endive, curled and
broad-leaved, and cooked beet root, cold,
are all considerable articles of consump¬
tion, of course helped down with a huge
slice of bread. “How often can you eat
salad?” I asked a young peasant. “Three
times a day, Monsieur, so long as it lasts.”
was the answer. French beans—“beans
“princesses” or “flageolets”—are in great
request, either hot as a dinner dish, or
cold dressed as salad with oil and vinegar.
Boiled haricots, also plain, hot, or dressed
as salad cold, come in as a substantial
mess in winter. An indispensable repast
with the French working peasant is his
“collation,” a solid slice of bread eaten at
four or five o’clock In the afternoon and
frequently taken with him or carried out
to him in the fields—perhaps with a little
grease spread on it as a luxury—and con¬
sumed with a leaf of sorrel or lettuce laid
on it as a thumb piece; or their place is
taken by a few spring onions—the thin¬
nings of the beds—or a clove or garlic.
In the South a red, fiery capsicum is thus
indulged in, to relieve and season made the
bread—which, perhaps, is partially
with the flour of maize. Supported by
this inexpensive treat the rustics resume
their work till supper time.— All the Year
Round.
A Queer Cure for Sunstroke.
Senor Catarsi, a fruit dealer who does
business on the south side of Fulton
market, New York, told an Evening Sun
reporter recently how victims of sunstroke
were treated in sunny Italy. “Take the
patient and prop him up straight in a
chair, then fill a glass with ice water,
place a towel over the top and press it
down on the person’s head, holding it so
tight that the water won’t run out. All
the heat in the body then becomes con¬
centrated in the head, and is gradually
drawn out by the water. The
water soon grows warm, but the
glass must not be removed until it boils.
This is not a fairy story I’m telling you.
If the glass is kept on the head long
inside. enough you can see the water bubbling
The length of time required de¬
pends on the seriousness of the case. The
worse the sunstroke the quicker the water
boils. It is a sure cure.” Mr. Catarsi is
a man of intelligence. He is educated
ENOCH AND CYRUS AND JERRY
AND BEN.
Enoch and Cyrus and Jerry and Ben
Were babies "together, four fat little men,
Four bald-headed babies, who bumped them-'
selves blue,
And sprawled, grabbed and tumbled, as alii
babies do—
Full of laughter and tears, full of sorrow and:
glee,
And big, bouncing bunglers, as all babies be.
All in the same valley lived these little
men—
Enoch and Cyrus and Jerry and Ben.
Enoch and Cyrus and Jerry and Ben
Were fast little chums—till they grew to be
men.
Eight bare little feet on the same errands
flew
Thro’ meadows besprinkled with daisies and
dew;
They were aimless as butterflies, thoughtless
and free
As the summer-mad bobolink, drunken with
glee.
A wonderful time were those careless days*
then
For Enoch and Cyrus and Jerry and Ben.
Enoch and Cyrus and Jerry and Ben
Grew from babies to boys, and from boys
into men.
Too restless to stay in the circumscribed:
bound
Of the green hills that circled their valley
around,
To the North and the South and the East
and the West,
Each departed alone on a separate quest,
Ah, they’ll ne’er be the same to each other
again—
Enoch and Cyrus and Jerry and Ben.
Enoch and Cyrus and Jerry and Ben,
Though companions in youth, were strangers
as men.
Enoch grew rich and haughty and proud,
While Cyrus worked on with the toil-driven
crowd;
In the councils of state Jerry held a proud
place,
But poor Ben, he sounded the depths of dis¬
grace.
Ah, diverse were the lives of these boys fromi
the glen—
Enoch and Cyrus and Jerry and Ben.
Enoch and Cyrus and Jerry and Ben,
Who can read the strong fates that on com
passed these men?
The fate that raised one to the summit of
fame,
The fate that dragged one to the darkness of
shame!
Ah, silence isbgst; neither glory nor blame
Will I grant the honored or dishonored
name.
We are all like these boys who grow to be
men—
Like Enoch, or Cyrus, or Jerry or Ben.
— S. W. Foss, in Yankee Blade,
HUMOR OF THE DAY.
A driving trade—Coaching'.
An “ax” handle—“Please.”
Behind the b’ars—Their tails.
Light-fingered gentry—Pianists.
A poor relation—“A sister to you.”
The court reporter—Her small brother.
(' The great American kicker—The mule.
! “I beg your pardon,” said the convict
to the Governor.
> Eternal vigilance enables a man to
carry the same umbrella for years.
It is no sign that a hen meditates harm
to her owner because she lays for him.
When marketing for chickens, always
remember that the good die young.
“Charlie Hankinson was simply wound
up to-night.” “I didn’t notice it. He
certainly didn’t go.”
It is getting so that a weather-prophet
can’t even predict a storm of indignation.
—Washington Critic.
He—“What do you think of my poem
to a Newfoundland pup?” She—“Excel¬
lent doggerel.”— Time.
A Montana baker always spells dough
ditto, because some one told him that
ditto was the complete form of do.
Time evens up all things. The man
who spent more than he could afford on
his early spring suit is wearing it yet.
“This is my long-wanted felt!” ex¬
claimed the tramp gracefully, as the land;
housewife presented him with an old
hat.
When a young doctor gets his first case
people are always glad for him, but they
are sorry for the patient.— Somerville
Journal.
There is one thing that the invincible
Western cyclone has never yet succeeded
in raising, and that is a mortgage.—
Burlington. Free Press.
The wife who can retain a sure hold
upon her husband’s heart will never,
have occasion to take a grip on his hair.!
—Terre Haute Express.
Wife—“I’m sure, now, that you mar-,
ried me only for my money.” Hubby—i
“If that’s so, then why don’t you let ms
have it?”— New York Sun.
“A nymph of the woods,” he called her
When
She tripped over mountains, fields and
But then—alas glen:
for his fancy free—
A nymph of the wouldn’t she proved to hft,
Tutor (to hereditary prince who is
dropping is indulging off to sleep)—“Your Highness
in a little private meditation -5
I will break off my lecture for a moment.”,
—Pesli Hirlwp. j
5
The, tenor in a fashionable church choir
found to his horror that his voice all at
strained once became it, but unpleasantly without thick. effect^ Hej
—New York Tribune. any good
A minister once excused himself front)
filling one of his regular appointments
on the ground that he had recently re¬
turned from his vacation and felt weary.i
—Christian Advocate.
Clerk—“Mr. Daybook, I would lik&
leave of absence this afternoon to attend
the funeral of a cousin?” Mr. Daybook,
(next morning)—“What was the seore,i
John?”— New York Sun.
Teacher — “Now, Betty, can you tell
me the meaning of professor?” Betty—!
ridas-hn “Oh, yessum. Professors is them a»
four horses in the circus and;