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About The Knoxville journal. (Knoxville, Ga.) 1888-18?? | View Entire Issue (Sept. 25, 1889)
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;
