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KNOXVILLE JOURNAL.
KNOXVILLE, GEORGIA.
The flag of the United States will here¬
after fly over all Federal buildings dur¬
ing business hours except when the
Weather is wet.
Germany looks upon Emperor William’s
cordial reception in the captured French
provinces as an indication that they are
being Germanized.
:•
Russia has made contracts for two more
Ironclads and quite a number of torpedo
vessels. The peace of Europe sits on a
barrel of gunpowder toying with a lighted
fuse.
’ An expert, who has examined the iron
ore region of the Island ot Cuba, says the
resources of that island are practically
limitless. Great preparations are being
made to increase the shipments to this
country._
In four years Europe will be connected
by steam with the very heart of the
Dark Continent. Perhaps American
steamers will also be running to the
seaward terminus of the Congo Free
State Railroad.
. Last year the Argentine Republic
shipped445,000 tons of grain to Europe.
TMs year it will send 2,500,000 tons.
The Government is at present assisting
Immgration. It pays the passages of all
immigrants from the coast to their desti¬
nation in the interior.
It is claimed that there exists in Kan¬
sas City the most disastrous business de¬
pression that has been brought upon any
Western city in the past fifteen years.
There is, without doubt, §20,000,000
invested in Kansas City that is not pay¬
ing a dollar in return.
Unless all signs fail, prophecies Good
all’s Sun , the country is on the eve of a
grand industrial revival. NotMng but
bad financial management will bring dis¬
aster. We have had excellent crops; la¬
bor is employed in all branches of indus¬
try; there is a good deal of money accu¬
mulated, and everything has a promising
outlook.
' Olive oil is being extensively adul¬
so
terated with cottonseed oil that the olive
industry in the South of France is being
fast destroyed. The French Govern¬
ment is anxious to stop this adulteration,
the extent of wMch may be inferred from
the fact that 2,000,000 gallons of cotton¬
seed oil are annually sMpped from the
United States to Marseilles.
The Indians are not making much
trouble now, and it has been decided to
establish a small fish-propagation station
at each army-post out West. The sol¬
diers can do what little work is necessary
and guard the growing fish. The Fish
Commissioner is going to look over the
ground and make plans for putting this
scheme into operation. It is a new idea
and has everybody’s approval so far,
save, perhaps, the soldiers’.
Reports from Chamberlain, in South
Dakota, show that the emigrant with
“land hunger” already has Ms eye upon
the United States territory which will be
thrown open to occupation when the
Sioux Reservation is formally declared
the property of the Nation. A large
number of inquiries about the 11,000,
000 acres in the reservation come from
persons who say they represent bodies of
men who intend to found colonies.
Greater advance seems to have been
made in Russia in the displacement of
wood and coal as fuel than in almost any
other part of the world. Naphtha dregs
are used everywhere, and the railroads
and manufactories have adopted the uew
fuel to the exclusion of the usual articles.
It is fully 35 per cent, cheaper than
either wood or coal, occupies much less
space in storage and can be handled more
readily. Its use has already become
common for domestic purposes, and it is
rapidly supplanting all other means of
furnishing heat.
gT
'■ A Wyoming Territory prosecuting at¬
torney being asked to proceed under the
territorial law against an Indian murderer,
refused on the ground “that he did not
think, if arrested and held to appear,
that any grand jury could be found that
would report a true bill against one In¬
dian for killing another, as such act was
not particularly objectionable or unpopu¬
lar with the white people of Stevens or
the adjacent counties. Hence it would
be incurring too much legal expense
without any beneficial result. In fact he
' could not see that it was a matter of any
concern to the taxpaying citizens, so
long as no white person was killed.” It
seems to the disinterested spectator, says
the Detroit Free Press, that the logic of
the official leads inevitably to the con¬
clusion that the Indian should be prose¬
cuted and hanged so that two birds may
^ killed with one stone.
BIGGEST FISH GET AWAY.
When, in the halcyon days of old, I waa a
little tike,
I used to fish in pickerel ponds for minnows
and the like;
And, oh, the bitter sadness with which my
soul was fraught
When I rambled home at nightfall with tha
puny string I’d caught!
And, oh, the indignation and the valor I’d
display
When I claimed that all the biggest fish Pd
caught had got away I
Sometimes it was the rusty hooks, sometimes
the fragile lines,
And many times the treacherous reeds would
foil my just designs
But whether hooks or lines or reeds were ac
tually to blame
l **2»zr* *“ “«—^ *-*
And so it was, when, later on, I felt ambi¬
tion pass
From callow minnow joys to nobler greed
for pike and bass:
I found it quite convenient, when the beau¬
ties wouldn’t bite,
And I returned all bootless from the watery
chase at night,
To feign a cheery aspect and recount in ac¬
cents gay
How the biggest fish that I had caught had
somehow got away.
And, really, fish look bigger than they are
before they’re caught
When the pole is bent into a bow and the
slender line is taut,
When a fellow feels his heart rise up like a
doughnut in his throat
j , ____. . aad , down , tko
leakv°boat! & lenzj ” up
ni, \ A 6n ^ „ ....... s ' VLd “dorse
’
me when tU l 7“
tw thJTS awa“ ■ e , . SE . . , y ° catch
U
g L ' a a ay.
'Tis even so in other things—yes, in our
greedy eyes
The biggest boon is some elusive, never-cap
tured prize;
We angle for the honors and the sweets of
human life—
Like fishermen we brave the seas that roll in
endless strife;
And then at last, when all is done and we are
spent and gray,
We own the biggest fish we’ve caught are
those that got away.
—Chicago News.
A GIRL’S DIARY.
BY ANNIE K. KEYES.
It was raining dismally, and I stood
watcMng the drops fall wildly down,
splashing against the window as they
came. A despondent face I had, as I
stood there tMnking. Oh, the tiresome,
dreary day ! Oh, for sometMng to pass
away the time! I turned and went out
of the library and up the broad staircase.
We lived in an old house on the outskirts
of the city. TMs old place had been in
possession of the family for over a cen
tury now. A weather-beaten old rookerv
it was, but withal the most delightful
place to winding live in, with its broad "halls,
great staircase, and a perfect
wonder of a garret extending the whole
length of the house.
It was a wonder in more ways than
one. Old presses and trunks were stowed
away against the -walls, full of relics and
fineries of the departed Huntingdons.
Old books and manuscripts were piled on
queer old chairs and tables, and all sorts
of odd, interesting things were to be
found there.
Toward this place I wended my way
that rainy morning. Surely, thought I,
in the garret I shall find, something to
amuse me; it has never failed me yet.
Up I went till I came to the door. I
stood on the threshold a moment. Such
a ghostly old place it seemed, with its
shadowy corners, and the wild rain with
out knocking at the windows!
For a second I stood there, half-afraid
to enter, then, with a laugh at my own
foolishness, walked boldly in.
I poked around among the old chests
for a while, and presently dragged forth
triumphantly to the light a little escritoire.
Such a pretty one it was, all inlaid with
mother-of-pearl, with an ebony lid. The
legs were slender and spindling, and in
the key-hole was a tiny, worn, golden
key, a faded blue ribbon hanging from
it. I turned the key excitedly. It
moved just a little hard, as if not liking
to disclose the secrets within.
The lid opened and showed numerous
little cubby holes and drawers wMch
were locked, but which I found would
open with the same key. By the side of
a tiny ink-stand lay a dainty penholder
with the initials “D. H. H.” cut in it.
I took the key and eagerly opened the
first drawer. A book with a golden
clasp and the same initials on the cover
lay therein. I opened it excitedly—I
think without feeling that I might be
doing wrong.
My eyes fell on the first page, on
which was written, in a man’s hand:
“To my little daughter.” And then,
underneath it, in a delicate, childish
hand, in faded ink, the words: “The
Private Thoughts and Beminiscences of
Dorothy Helen Huntingdon,” and be¬
low, the date:
December 25, 1730.—Wednesday. I
have wanted a diary ever so long in my
thoughts, but I did not tell father till he
did say to me yesterday: “Well, dear,
what will you have on Christmas Day?”
“A diary, father, please,” said I (only
I said dairy. I think I rather got it
mixed up with butter and eggs and
cheese). And
father did laugh so, and say:
“Whatl my little girl turn dairymaid?”
“Nay, dear father, a book I mean,”
and I did feel so foolish at my
such mistakes—a girl of twelve
on Christmas Day. I turned my
away, “Why, well-nigh crying.
what’s tMs?” said father,
he raised my head. “I will bring
twenty books, but cry not, dear!”
“Nay, father, it is not that, but
cause I do make such foolish
, And father, quite gravely, with all
laughter hand gone from his face, took my
in his and did say to me that this
was nothing, only natural that I should
make some little mistakes; but it was the
great mistakes that we must all guard
against and pray against.
So this morning I found my diary on
my pillow when 1 awoke, and father had
put within it: “To my little daughter,”
and beneath it I wrote, as you see above:
“The Private Thoughts and Reminis¬
cences of Dorothy Helen Huntingdon.”
And I will write in it every day till next
Christmas if I be spared.
December 26 th, I<o0. Thursday. 1
have becu S rcatly angered tins day and
wicked - Madarae did say to me
thls mormug: “Tell me, ma chere, in
^'. r ? ucb ’ that 1 am beautiful!” But it
dld ^ to me very <l ueer > for madame
SSLl.T/r'S,
}»■<• Jdtow, M mdthii, and with «
for shame at my wickedness—but I
laughed. And madame did rise up with
a most awful look and swept from the
room. Then I did feel the blood rising
to my face, and my heart seemed like to
choke me, and I did leave my chair and
go to father’s room.
But the door was closed, and it did
seem to me that everything would now
be closed against wicked me. Then I
did sit me down outside the door and put
my head into my lap so that I would not
disturb father writing within. But soon
l down tdid f lon Cm 1 ™ i* U choked , ld kee P and my father, heart
S er ’ me so
^
. A A/ ? fatber f br ? Ug * “’-lA 1 , bU 5
11 ’ A ’,
mistakes A, , AcA that sometimes ’ *5“ 18 cause 0116 ° f great ^7“ sor
rows.” And he did smooth my hair and
take me to madame to ask for pardon,
which most graciously she granted. And
I now put this down so that I may never,
never forget that the small mistakes do
sometimes make great sorrows.
Dec. 27th, 1730.—Friday. Father
took me to the stables to-day, and there
showed me a most beautiful pony, black
as night, and with a soft, silken mane and
tail. And father did seat me on her and
say: “I bought this for a friend of mine,
a little girl.” I tMnk I am most wicked,
ever angry and jealous. And I did feel
so envious, for I did want the pony so
much myself, and notMng did I say but:
“I am very glad for the little girl; I hope
she may like it.”
At that father did laugh outright and
say: ‘ ‘The little maid is not far away;
mayhap you know her?”
And then of a sudden it did flash across
me that the little girl was my very self,
and I did speak out quite boldly and say:
“Oh, sir, is it mine?”
And fathe.r laughingly did say: “Yes,
little friend; It is a late Christmas gift
and an early New Year one. What will
you call her?”
“Gypsy, dear father,” said I; and I
was so glad that I knew not what to do.
So I did think me what could I give
father in return, and I did go into the
kitchen and ask cook if she would kindly
allow me to make a pie for father.
And I did make a most beautiful one,
albeit I did let it fall upon the floor in
carrying it to the pantry. But I dusted
it oil quite cleanly, and father was greatly
pleased.
I took a lesson’ in riding, and father
did make me a present of a beautiful
gold-handled wMp that did belong to my
•mother.
December 28th, 1730.—Saturday. I
rode forth upon my dear Gypsy tMs
morning with father. It was beautiful.
My Cousin Patience comes this day. I
am very glad, for Patience is my favorite
cousin.
Father did tell me that her mother was
my dear mother’s sister, Patience has
hair that shines gold-like in the sun, and
her eyes are blue as speedwells.
She hath some years more than I, be
ing twenty. She doth ride like the
wind on a milk-white steed, and she hath
a most beautiful habit of green velvet,
trimmed with silver lace.
“But you will not have Patience long,
mayhap,” said father. “I think some
one is going to take her away.”
“Nay, dear father,” said I; for
it grieved me sorely to think any one
should come and take my dear Patience
away. “It cannot be true.”
But father did laugh, teasingly, and
did go off and leave me quite miserable
to tMnk that after all it might be true.
December 29th, 1730.—Sunday. Pa¬
tience has come? I was standing on the
staircase last evening, when I heard the
coach wheels and, in a moment, there
was my dear at the door looking so beau¬
tiful!
But with her was a gentleman, so tall
and straight, but with such a handsome
face, and ey.e3 all a-laughing, that some¬
how I was not a bit afraid till it came to
me that he might be the one who would
take my Patience from me. Then I did
go up to him right boldly, and when he
did take my hand, said, “Are you to
take my Patience away?”
And he did laugh and say, ‘ ‘If thy
Patience wilt but come with me.”
And she, with a most beautiful red all
over her face, did take me in her arms
and kiss me.
But I feel much better about it now,
for Patience did tell me she would often
come and see me.
We went to church this day. I wore
my new pelisse, trimmed with fur, that
Cousin Patience brought me. I greatly
fear I did think more of that than of the
sermon; but I am truly penitent, and
wore my oldest pelisse afterward, to
mortify my vanity.
■ December 30th, 1730.—Monday. I
have told my dear about the diary and
shown it to her. Not the inside, yet,
but I did say to her: “When I am with
my mother, then, Patience, you must
have my book and read it. ” And Patience
smiled, and her eyes seemed so bright
and sparkling them, that and methought she said: there “Sweet¬ were
tears in
heart, I thank thee; but may the time be
far away.” mother,
Last night I did dream of my
Mdthought I saw her holding out her
arms to me, with a smile, and the bright
angels round thought about I did her were to smiling
also, and I start go to
her, but hearing a cry, 1 turned back
and saw my father weeping, his face
UP I have be^n’to^dewS my Patience
and the captain. Father conies also
at times. The captain is part of his
his name—he who came to take
Patience. We have fine times, and it
doth seem I like him every day the
more -
But the great secret is, and I tell it to
you, for you will never say aught about
it, my dear is to be taken away, married,
°n New Year’s Day, Margery says.
That is why Patience came here, and
I never knew it until last night, and she
°
Father wished it so, and everything is
to be so beautiful. I did see the lace,
the vail, Patience is to wear upon her
head, and it is to float downward o’er her
dress.
Margery did tell me people always give
presents to those who are to bo married,
And I did think me what I could givo to
my dear. So I told father, and he asked
me if I had thought of anything. Then
I showed him a little ring that he had
given me, that was my mother’s—a beau
tiful gold ring with a circle of pearls.
And father did say to me, “My dear,
wilt thou part with that?” and Ms face
looked stern and sad. Then I did put
my arms round his neck, and say: “To
none other but my Patience, for she will
love it well, and I give it as the best I
have.” And father did kiss me and say,
as though speaking to himself: “Thy
mother’s self, thy mother’s self.”
And Patience coming into the room, I
placed the ring upon her finger.
January 1st, 1731.—Wednesday. I
never, never, thought it would happen,
I feel much stronger now, and will tell
all about it.
It was yesterday; my dear and the cap
tain and I did go out riding. Wc rode
along right gayly, for a time (Margery
is saying not to write more, hut I say to
her that I must tell you all), and then
somehow Gypsy did slip and fall, and
threw me on the ground, and when grow
ing frightened and trying to rise, me
thinks she hurt me in the side. But she
did not mean it. I think I forgot every
thing for a time, then, and only remem
bered my dear’s white face and Gypsy
putting her pretty head down, and then
I must have gone to sleep,
Then I did find myself upon my bed
at home, with dear father sitting by mo.
But his face was fallen upon his hands,
so I put out my hand softly, and it did al
most fall, so heavy it was, and laid it on
his arm.
And father, quickly raising his head,
did cry out, “Dorothy!” And said I,
“Father, dear, it was not Gypsy’s fault"
—for I did think me they might blame
my pretty Gypsy.
My head doth feel so queerly now.
Here comes my dear and the captain.
“Father-”
My eyes were so blurred with tears
that I could scarcely see the faded trem¬
bling writing. Once more they fell
upon the yellowed page, where, under*
neath, was written:
“My little Dorothy! She died this
morning. The sunshine of the new
year falls softly in upon her as she lies
asleep! dear; I have read the gentle story
through, and so I close the book.”
The rain that had been falling wildly,
wept softly now. The branches of the
dead tree swept against the window, and
my tears fell on the tender story of a
young life, while the darkening shadows
filled the room.— Frank Leslie’s.
WISE WORDS.
No one is satisfied with his fortune,
nor dissatisfied with his own wit.
Who of us have not regretted that age
when laughter was ever on the lips!
It is never the opinion of others that
displease us, but the pertinacity they
display in obtruding them upon us.
Do not be afraid to go near your ene¬
my. The nearer you get to a kicking
horse the less damage will result to your
person.
A fool cau ask more questions than a
wise man can answer; but a wise man
cannot ask more questions than he can
find a fool ready to answer.
Nothing is so great an instance of ill
manners as flattery. If you flatter all the
company you please none; if you flatter
only one or two you affront the rest.
Of all the actions of a man’s life, his
marriage does least concern other peo¬
ple, yet of all actions of our life, ’tis
most meddled with by other people.
If we cannot be a lighthouse, we can
be a candle. A man said once that ho
hadn’t as much light as a rush-light.
“Well, I could set a whole city on fira
with that,” said another.
It is poor encouragement to toil through
life to amass a fortune to ruin your chil¬
dren. In nine cases out of ten a large
fortune is the greatest curse which could
be bequeathed to the young and inex¬
perienced.
When a person points out the ‘ ‘respect¬
able people” in his neighborhood he will
invariably select those who reflect him¬
self, and often add that some think they
belong to the respectable class, but are
not recognized as such.
Probably the early race of mankind
were not much superior to other animal
life, and in the absence of books and
other implements were entirely destitute
of means except what nature furnished,
yet they no doubt lived as happily as their
posterity do.
If a man has , a quarrelsome , temper , let , ,
him alone. The world w l soon find
him employment. He will soon meet
with some one stronger than himself who
will repay Mm better than you can A
man may fight duels all his life if he is
disposed to quarrel.
Kind words produce their own image
in men’s souls, and a beautiful image it
is. They soothe and quiet and comfort
the hearer. They shame him out of Ms
sour, morose, unkind feelings. We have
not yet begun to use kind words in such
abundance as they ought to be used.
SCIENTIFIC AN1) INDUSTRIAL.
* ^ a ^e “' cure an of a «thority hydrophobia, claims that garlic
0lC * ^atlis are now said to bo effi
etutious . in the of typhoid
cure fever.
The spawn of most fish sinks, but that
of cod rises to the surface of the water.
An Italian has discovered that the de
cay incident to old age is caused by a
microbe which is inherited,
Hollow bricks are being used in East
ern cities, and they cost one-third less
than regular price. They crush at 30,000
pounds.
* “ achine bas bee “ “™ ntad which
^ms stone and makes 15,000 to lb, 000
0 '-es pei muiu e. It is being tried in.
1 ° c s an ‘
Throughout Italy the principal towns
? re > one ;dtei ’ :l!U) ther, providing build
mgs for the treatment of hydrophobia ac
cording to Pasteur’s system,
A society has been started in London
to promote the development of the sci
once of mesmerism and of the application
of hypnotism to practical medicine,
A farmer in Muskegon County, Mich.,
who was stung on the ear by a bumble
bee while mowing in his field has gone
crazy. His doctor thinks the stinging
was the cause.
The l g t e J inc ia tbe world ia ia
the hold f an taliau war-ship, f’ called
baid f gna; •* coasiats . . of , four ; triple
ex¬
“ eS ’ and haS , a ca P aolty of
^’°°° bone-power,
Seamless boiler tubes are now made
Jf tliat om twists so . lid in and £ ots stretches of metal the h Y fibres, a process and
sald t0 make a tube much stronger
than the ordinary ones.
A hunter of Virginia City, Nev., claims
that he has discovered a deposit of fossil
ivory in the Sierra Nevada range. He
took out two large tusks of an elephant,
and is going back for more.
An oyster bed of unusual size and rich¬
ness was discovered recently by a Danish
fisherman near the coast of Jutland. It
is some eleven miles from land and fif¬
teen miles long by seven miles wide.
Most people know that the common
oleander of our gardens is a very poison¬
ous plant; and there is every reason to
believe that the poisonous honey so often
referred to by ancient writers came, if
from anywhere, from its flowers.
The American whitefish promises to be
firmly established in English waters.
The United States Fish Commissioners
sent some over last year to the fish hatch¬
ing establishment of Malvern Wells, and
the young fish are doing splendidly.
Professor Langley finds that a very
faint light may be perceived in about
half a second, while an ordinarily bright
light requires one half that interval; and
that the same amount of energy may pro¬
duce at least 100,000 times the visual
effect in one color that it does in another.
The porgy factory at East Boothbay,
Me., is at present producing porgy oil by
the cargo. It sells at twenty-five cents
per gallon, and is used largely for mak¬
ing “pure linseed” and for export for
soap-making. Of late Scotch soapmakers
have been taking a great deal of the oil.
The latest marine destructive machine
is a floating battering-ram. It consists
of a cigar-shaped boat, made entirely oi
thick steel, and operated by the captain
only, who is lodged in an invulnerable
turret. Such a contrivance as this is
capable of sinking the largest ironclad
with the greatest ease.
The Sweating Sickness.
Once England was attacked by a seri
ous epidemic, the sweating sickness,
which was so called because, iu the words
of an old writer : “It did most stand in
sweating from beginning to ending.” It
first made its appearance in England, and
was generally known on the Continent as
the “English sweat.” It was observed
generally to spare foreigners in this coun¬
try, and also to be specially fatal to
Englishmen when it appeared abroad;
and it was surmised that the immoderate
use of beer, then so common in England,
rendered its inhabitants particularly sus
ceptible to the disease. Beginning in
1485, in the army of Richmond, after¬
ward Henry VII., it spread quickly over
the country with most fatal results. It
seems to have been a species of violently
inflammatory fever, which suffused the
whole body with a fetid perspiration,
the crisis generally occurring within
twenty-four hours of the first seizure.
Like most other epidemics, it was spe¬
cially fatal to healthy, vigorous men in
the prime of life, and hardly one per
cent, of such recovered. In London,
where it raged with peculiar violence,
two Lord Mayors and six Aldermen died
in one week. This first outburst con¬
tinued its ravages until the end of the
year, its cessation being nearly coincident
with a violent tempest on New Year’s
Day, 1486, which was therefore sup¬
posed to have caused its disappearance.
Further outbreaks of this epidemic oc¬
curred in England in 1506 and 1517,
when again London suffered severely;
and in 1528 and 1529 not only this coun¬
try, but also France and Germany, and,
in a less degree, Holland, Sweden and
Poland, were visited by the same pestil¬
ence. The last appearance of the sweat¬
ing sickness in England was in 1551,
when the disease was particularly virulent
in Shrewsbury and the valley of the
Severn.— Chambers’s Journal.
Death by Bee Stings..
The little busy bee is admired for its
Industry, and if it should sedulously im¬
prove each shining hour in gathering
honey all the day J from each sweet
fl ’ it wouId n0 doubt be
° ardfid as a deserv ing £ insect. But
h s 8re ferocio , 13 at ti ’ and tbeir
sU has d f M to mcn and beasts .
De ath by ^ bee-sting knight is a frequent acci
dent itMn a three cases, in
wMch farmers were killed by bees wMle
a t work in their fields in the neighbor
bo od of hives, have been reported, and,
w jth all the terror caused by the summer
dog, it is a question if there are not as
many deaths from bee-sting as from well
authenticated attacks of hydrophobia.—*
Chicago Herald.
HER NAME.
How shall I tell you? She has so many,
As for her sponsors, how could they know
In naming- that baby, their worships maybe.
Entitled of women a score or so?
/When I see her where flowers are blooming;
Another blossom so fresh and sweet,
I can compare her to nothing fairer;
f I call her my “Daisy,” my “Marguerite.”
[When I see her with hands so busy,
j A rustic maiden in homespun dressed,
‘A household fairy, with step so airy,
' Homely “Maggie” describes her best;
When she greets me with mirth and laugh/
ter,
! “Meg,” I think, is the sweetest name.
Of roguish Woffington she reminds me; I
Then she is, “Peg,” my merry dame.
Ah! there are hours of gloom and sadness,
When earth is sown with cold gray rain,
When hearts are weary and life so dreary,
One scarce dare hope for the sun again, j
Then she comes with her mien so gentle,
Calm, serene, ’mid a mad world’s whirl.
Of jewels the rarest, the purest, fairest,
I know why they named her “Margaret,’ 1
“Pearl.”
Changeful lady? what sprite has lent you
This magic power that we see you wield?
Now tears, now smiling, now fond beguiling,
None can oppose you, for all must yield.
But stop! One name that I mean to give you
Will fetter and bind you all your life.
You need not guess it; I will confess it;
My love, my lady, I’ll call you “Wife.”
—Mary E. Vandyne, in Harper's Weekly.
HUMOR OF THE DAy.
The sexton is the king of spades.
There is nothing so holy and inexpen¬
sive as a sister’s love.
The only thing which beats a good
wife is a bad husband.— Life.
Sheets of flame are usually spread ovei
a bed of coals .—Baltimore American.
The shoe wMch is in the hands of tha
bootblack has a bright future__ Washing¬
ton Capital.
The man who intends to be cremated
after death never asks his wife: “Will
you love me when I mold?”
It is when a man has to take a hammer
to pound down the nails in his old shoes
that the iron enters Ms soul.
'Tis now that the hammock breaks down
And lands with both a thud, the
youth and the girl in the
mud.
Midshipman Mrs. Smallers—“They do say -that
Blink is a very fast young:
man.” Captain Beaugard—“Yes; he
belongs to the fleet .”—Kearney Enterprise.
There’s something odd about a ship,
And it is quickly told;
Although It not rated for its grip,
has a monstrous hold.
A young lady fainted when told that
over 200,000 men died last year, but
was revived by the information that
there were 10,000,000 left .—London Tid
Bits.
When a young lady begins to manifest
an interest in the arrangement of a young
man’s cravat Ms batchelor day are num¬
bered. It is time to begin to hoard
money.
Heoffer—“What are you engaged ia
now?” Pfeiffer—“I’m in Omaha manu¬
facturing Indian relics to sell at churcb
fairs for the benefit of the heathen.”—
Omaha World-Herald.
A Lady is Engaging a New Cook:
“Are you sure you don’t keep company
with aily young man?” “Yes, I do
ma’am; but (pig’s whisper) he’s an awful
small eater.”— Judge.
Clarissa—“Oh, Lucia, I’ve been look
ing at your lovely wedding presents,
There are seventeen full sets of dishes
among them.” Lucia—“I shall
them all, as I expect to keep a
Omaha World.
Mr. Hibred—“What do you suppose
the bard referred to when he wrote of the
‘slippered pantaloon?’ ” Mrs. Slapdash—
“Really, I have no idea.” “I bet you I
know.” “My son, you were not spoken
to.”— Truth.
for Mrs. Fondwife—“Yes, I have a secret
making my husband happy. I add
something to his cares and that diminishes
them.” Mrs. Giggle—“Oh, do tell 'me
what it is.” Mrs. Fondwife—“Ii add
an ‘s.’ ”— Detroit Journal.
Judge—“Miss, what is your age?”
Witness—“I am past twenty.” Judge
—“You must be more explicit.” Wit¬
ness—“Well, I am between twenty and
thirty.” Judge—“No more trifling.
State your exact age.” Witness—“I’ll
be thirty day after tp-morrow.”— Omaha
World.
Cross Country on a Coyuse. i
John Allen, of New York, accompan¬
ied by Ms wife, is riding a coyuse from
New York city to San Francisco. In the
party is Professor E. II. Platt, a French
riding master. Mr. Allen told a reporter
of the Salt Lake City Herald that the
start was made three months and three
days before he reached that point. 4 ‘We
crossed over to Jersey,” explained Mr;
Allen, “cut across the State to Easton,
Penn., instead of going northward as the
railroads do, passed through Johnstown
just four days before the flood, struck
Greensburg, Penn., and then traveled
through the country, missing all the cities
until we reached Indianapolis. We
crossed the Mississippi at Hannibal and
the Missouri at Kansas City, and after
making a short stay there pushed on to
Denver, following the line of the Kansas
Pacific Railroad. Up to the time we
reached Denver we put up at lodging
houses every night and stabled our horses,
but after leaving the Colorado capital we
began roughing it in dead earnest. Wo
packed our supplies in a wagon, pur¬
chased a fine span of draught horses and!
started well prepared for camping out.;
The route taken was over Berthou’s Paso
to the Hot Sulphur Springs, thence toi
Hayden, from there to Meeker, th?n to
Vernal, the Uintah agency, Fort Du¬
chesne, Heber and Park City to Salt'
Lake.”
!
The New York and Brooklyn Bridge
is 5989 feet long. The length of ite
main span is 1505 feet.
[ Buffalo, N. Y., is supplied with *3
from ninety mites off, —