The people. (Barnwell C.H., S.C.) 1877-1884, January 24, 1884, Image 1
CHRISTMAS EVE.
God Mm* the little etookiDg* . -
ill orer the land to night,
Hung in the ohoioeet earners,
In e glow of Crimean light.
The tiny scarlet stocking,
With a hole in the heel and toe,
Ween by wonderfal Journeys
ttt E*i*hni te |I _
And heartn pity the children,
Wherever their home may be,
Who wake at the first gray dawning,
An empty stocking to eee '
Leftdfl'the Mth of childhood
Hanging against the wall,
Just where the <Utiling giot
Of SanU's light will fali!
nsk, and no one ooold nnewer, not even
mjaelf.
I wandered abort t th« rectory in the
summer evening* and heard her sing; I
tried hard to get the old gardener to let
m# help him carry the wntering-pota,
and when I succeeded, felt, aa I entered
the rector’* garden, that I waa entering
la paradke.
Alaa! alas! my awkwardheaa again
banished me. She met me (me evening
in the garden, a* I waa coming along the
path, with my cans foil of water, and
spoke to me, and said
Who ha* no scarlet stockings
With ehfldlsh teys to fill!
Who sttein tbs msarthy twilight,
WHt tar fiwpihst the pane,
And griev** «cr the UUle baby
Whsma grave i* oat in the rain!
Oh, tbs empty |boes and stockings,
rer laid e
1 aside,
Oh, the tangled, broken shoe-string
That will nevermore be tied !
Oh, thaXttle graves at the mercy
Of the cold December rain!
Oh, the feet in their midw-white sandsli
That can never trip again!
Bnt happier they who ehimbei,
With marble at foot and bead,
Than the child who has no shelter,
Ho raiment, nor food, nor bed.
Tee! heaven help the living f ~
Children of want and pain,
, Knowing no fold nor pasture—
1 Oat to-night in the rain!
/ . i—1-
A CENTURY AGO.
An old brown leather-covered book,
the leaven yattow, the writing scarcely
legible, fraaa time and decay—evidently
an old, nggleiAed MS. To the fire or
to my private shelf ? Which ?
ttbsss ws my reflections ss I looked
over the paper* of my late uncle, the
rector at • Somersetshire village.
I liked <*» teok of the book and de
cided far the shelf; and i^ad my re
ward, for I found in the crabbed char
acters a simple story, evidently written
toward the clone of the writer's life.
This story I now transcribe into a more
modern style.
"Hall be fit for nothing,” said my
father; "an awkward booby who bolds
his awi and cuts his food with his left
hand.” - *
Bo said my father, and so, alas! I
fait. I waa awkward. I waa fifteen;
thick-net, strong, but terribly j^omsy.
Leonid not make a collar, nor sew a
pair of hiinkma, nor stnif a saddle, not
do anything that I ought to be able to
do. My fingers eecaed to have no me
chanical feefing in them. I waa awk
ward, and I knew it, and all knew it
"I don’t know what he’s fit for,” said
my father to ihe rector of the pariah.
"I’ve act him to carpentering, and he’»
cat his finger nearly off with an ax;
then he went to the smith, and burnt
his hands till he waa laid up for a month.
It’a all of no nae; he spoils me more
good leather in a week than his earnings
pay for in a month. Why cannot he,
like other Christians, me his b*Qd« as
tha good Ood meant Mm to? There,
look at him now, entting that back strap
for th« iqniro with his left hand.”
1 heard Mm; the kaiie flipped, and
UmkngisfaM of leather was divided in
a moment and nttsrjy spoiled.
"There now! look at that! A piece
oat of the very middle of the skin end
his finger gashed into the bargain.”
The rector endeavored to soothe my
father’s anger, while I bandaged my
one the voices died away and were lost,
and she and I alone, bound together and
driven on by an irresistible impulse,
went through the anthem; one aonl, one
'’Xm'm the. boy.that broke the yaM^ spirit seemed to animate both. The
aren t you ?’
I did not, could not, reply; my
strength forsook cote. I dropped my
cans bn the ground, where they upset
and flooded away in a moment some
seeds on which the rector act moat
especial store.
••How awkward,'to be sure!” site ex
claimed. "And how angry uncle will
be."
.1 turned and fled, and from that time
the rectory gate was closed against me.
One Sunday she sang as I had never
yet heard her, not loudly, bnt so ten
derly, so lovingly; I knew the change
had come—she loved; it thrilled in her
voice; and at the evening service ha was
there. I saw him. A aolctyer, I knew
by his bearing, with cruel, hard, gray
eyes; and she-amigr L knew it. : I de
tected a tremble afid gratitude in. the
notes. 'I felt she was to suffer, as I had
suffered; not that 1^ sang. I had no
voice. A harsh, guttural sound was all
I could give utterance to. I could
whistle like a bird, and often and often
have I lain for hours in the shade of a
tree and joined the oonoerts in the
wood*.
One day Xwaa whistling, when I was
tapped on the shoulder by an old man,
the cobbler of the next parish.
. "Sam, where did yon learn that?”
"Learn what ?”
"That tune.”
"At church.”
"You’ve a good ear, Sam
"I’ve nothing else good, but I can
whistle anything.”
"Can you whistle me the Morning
\
X
/
him .ebtoe up fex
th* *•», Ifr. «a£*; I fffcxfld like a
i to fit it, for it is very fragile, ** all
that old Italian glam is; and line it with
the aoftefet‘leather, please.”
And so I went with the rector to bring
bafifc. Am'*nse, taking two chamois
leathers to bring it in.
We reached the boose, and I waited in
the paaaage while he went to fetch it
BMhme boelrwitk a large vme, tenderly
wrapped fat the leathera. Ab*H At that
moment there came from the rooea,
ibifieOhsA thrilled me ihraegb-aswaie*
I-hear new a* I write theee knee aa
■tear, eo sweat, so purypi if aa#ngef
niff Am
HP® PPwPpiPQ HB6II CO
I trembled, aed fergot _
bmimtm mr dropped *> tin.
ground end waa shattered to pieeae.
the- meter’s
iKfcA ft
same out and I
got the
"Ton awkward scoundrel! look at
your work. Thirty pounds! Ilf^y
Pd yen drop
mm : "Ltob
it flashed apon me
drop my
Hymn ?’’
I did so
"Good; very good. Know anything
of mnsic, Sam ?”
. "Nothing.”
"Like-to?”
•Td give a!i I have in the world to
(w able to play anything. My soul’s
r uli of music. I can’t sing a note, but
I could play anything if I was taught”
"So you shall, Sam, my boy. Come
home with me. Carry these skins, and
you shall begin at once.”
I went home sfith him, and found
that he wse one of the players in the
choir of his parish, his instrument being
the violoncello. L, took my first lesson,
and from that time commenced a new
life. Evening after evening, and some
times daring the day, I wandered over
to his little shop, and while he sat, stitch,
stitch at the boots and shoes, I played
over and osar again all the mnsio I
could get from the elroroh.
"You’ve a beautiful fingering, Sam,
my boy, beautiful; and though it does
look a little awkward to see yon bowing
with your left, it makes no differ-
enoe to ymL You ought to be a fine
player, Sam.” -nr—-
X WM enthusiastic, hT* I poor. I
wanted an instrument of my tut
had no money and I earned nCllfT - !
could earn none.
- "Bam, my boy," said the cobbler, one
day, **yon ehrit hwae an fa»lnB»eul« aad
your father shall buy it for you, or the
whole parish shall cry shame upon
him.”
"Bat he don’t know a word of this,”
I said.
"Never mind, Bam, my boy, bs shall
be glad to know of it;" and he told me
his plane.
On Christmas Day it was customary
for the ohein of neighboring churches
to help each other, and it waa arranged
that the choir of our parish should play
•ad ring on the meat Chxfctmae morw-
ingathis pariah church, and that he
1 «ad hie choir ahos® cedh f gum to our
’pariah ter the evening service. _.
"And you, Bom,” said he, '‘shatl take
in ywor own ehuaeb; and,
» os
;pr«m*
The Oteniffg cantet a® thefie, in the
‘BmlHit gallery, I mt waiting, with my
- pv
lH’a
msry full,
agtercr.gad my lady just
yoorpyaaonjow book
what you’re playing, and think
yenlu in the little shop; I’le brought a
Nt o( leaf her to help you," and he put
a piece of that biaek leather that has a
peeaUar oeid aoept in front of me. The
aeant flf it revived me; the memory of
the aoany iMta* I hod apeefttltefe tame
baekto t mei«tia>ei > iinfiIPBllna«mlm
ill
hymn, through the ekante and on to the
anthem before the aenaon. This was
to be the gem of the evening; it was
Handel’s then new anthem, "I know
that my Redeemer liveth.”
It began—harsh, inhannoniems, out of
tune—I know not why or how; but as it
progressed a spell seemed upon all but
tier and myself; one by one the instru
ments ceased and were silent; cue by
Whole
as to an angel; and she, self-absorbed
•od like one in a trance, sang, filling
me with a delicious scuae of peace and
exultation, the like of which I have
i ever known since.
It came to an end at last, and with
the last triumphant note I fell forward
on the desk in's swoon.
When I recovered, I found myself at
home in my own room, with the reetpr,
the doctor and my parents there, and
heard the doctor say :_
"I told you he would, dearmadam; I
knew he would.”
1 “Thank God !” murmured my mother.
‘My dear boy, how we have feared for
you 1"
What a difference ! I was courted and
made much of. "Genius!” aud "Very
clever {’’and "Delightful talent!” snob
were the expression* I now heard, in
stead of "stupid!” "awkward!” and "on-
fit for anything!”
My father bought a fine instrument,
and I was tha hero of the village for
months.
It was some days after that Christmas
that I ventured to aek about the rector’s
niece.
"My dear boy,” said my mother;
“the Ilkewas never heard. We saw you
there and wondered what you were do
ing; but as soon aa we saw you with the
bow, we knew yon must be the person
there’d been ao much talk about; and
then, when the anthem came, and we
all left off singing and they all left off
ploying, and only yon and Miaa Cecilia
kept on, wo were all in tear*. I saw
even the rector crying; and, poor girl,
«he seemed as if in a dream, and so did
you; it was dreadful for me to see you
with your ayes fixed an her, watching
her so eagerly. And then to look at
her, staring up at the stained-glass win
dow as if she could see through it, miles
and miles away into the sky. O, I’m
sure the like never was; and then, when
you fell down, I screamed, and your
father ran up aud carried you down and
brought you home in Farmer Blade’s
four-wheeler.”
After this I had an invitation to go
up to the rectory, aud there in the long
winter evenings we used to sit; and
while I played, she sang. Oh, those
happy times 1 when she loved me, but
only as a dear friend; and I loved
her aa I never loved before or couldTove
again. I do not know the kind of love 1
had for her. I was but a little older
than she waa, but I felt aa a father
might feel to his daughter—a sweet ten
derness aUd tote that made me pitiful
toward her. I knew she loved a man
unworthy of her, and I think, at times,
■he frit this herself, and knew I felt it.
I waa perfectly free of the rector's house
at last, and we used to find in our music a
means of converse that our tongues
could never have known. Ah me—those
days! Gone ! Alas I they are gone.
\ She left ua at last, and in a few years
' he’
Pi
to
fl:
nr
n
nr
cr
at
k
k
AN OLD FEUD RECALLED.
THU ASTOK riMUU KMT IN NKW
YOKK CITY.
fa* OiSt la Ftra aa th# Meh aa* Haw It
was Cltvea la the SaMtars.
It has often been claimed, says a Sun
day Mercury oorreapondfent, that the
military authorities were somewhat to ^urritneas; and from Ms account it>
blame in precipitatin’ bloodshed at the
As tor Place riot, but the truth is that
they not only were not to blame at all,
but deserved commendation for their
-. . . sell control. Findin’ matters gettin
(»hgre^fion listened JweatWHH worse; instead of better by the cornin'
-i J “ v ‘ of the soldiers. Recorder Talmadg*
showed that he had flrst-ciasa nerve by
cornin’ boldly forward, farin’ the howl
in’, cursin’ mob, and makin’ a speech in
favor of law and order, saying to the
mob: 1 ‘Depart—return Id your homes;
delay not; let this street be cleared at
once, or the soldiers here—your own
brothers—the armed citizens of New
York will fire npon you, as sure as there
is a God above ns.”
But the mob only went on worse than
before. They set up on awfUI yell;
then they groaned at Talmadge, and
fired stones at him, one of which hit
him on the breast, though not woundin’
him seriously. Then Talmadge turned
to General Hall, who waa in charge of n
battalion, and said : "General, you will
have to fire on’em after all.”
"Where is the Mayor?” asked Gen.
Hall. "He alone should give the order
to fire.”
Bnt the Mayor, Woodhull, was in the
New York Hotel.
Then Hall asked for the Sheriff,
Westervelt. Westervelt stepped up, but
was non-committal, and wanted the
general to take the responsibility, which
was natural enough. But Hall didn’t
see it yet * V
Then General Sanford and Colonel
Duryea came np to Hall and Talmadge
and said that this sort of thing wouldn’t
be endured by the National Guard any
longer. They were bein’ shot at and
stoned and wounded by the mob, and
were not allowed even to protect ’em-
selves in return.
"What do you say now, Mr. Sheriff?”
asked General Hall, who was deter
mined, if he could, to get hie orders be
fore he gave ’em.
"Your duty is only too plain, Mr.
Sheriff,” remarked Recorder Talmadge.
' Yon cannot do otherwia* than give the
order and fire.”
The sheriff said nothin’ for a moment,
turned on his heel as if to go, then sud
denly turnin’ back, he went np to Gen
eral S&fiford and said : "Do as you
think right, General”"
This might have seemed enough to
the sheriff, but it wasn’t enough to Ban-
ford. He, like Hall, wanted to get a
definite order from somebody. So San
ford looked the sheriff fall in the face
and asked him plump and plain : "Do
you give me the order ta fire?” And
then Bheriff Westervelt said these de
cisive words which settled the life and
death of a large number of people: "I
do, sir. *
- Thai Sanford tamed to Matsell, who
ton
he
te* te mj
bon* ifpatteatiy,
«t**r I Mir'*,
Oh, thot night! Shall 1 ever forget its
pteaeqns ?-A4he wandering looks of the
htends sad neigh bn** who eons and
oani te ma, Ike Aesftesd, swkmd,
nteBlrt (uni*—the
which they bod reard rumors.
Oh, tt xrat gkrioaef The first few
V.
was standin’ near him, headin’ the police,
os fat and round as a watermelon, but
as cool aa a cucumber. "Matsell,” said
Sanford, "call in your policemen. We
shall have to employ bullets in half a
minute.”
Bayin’ this, while Mstseli called in his
police, Sanford and Duryea went round
once more and for the last time tryin’ to
npcify the mob and disperse ’em. But
ie mob didn’t care a continental.
•Tire and be hanged,” "Fire if you
are,” "To with yonrgnna,” “Yon
«lk, bnt yon dare not shoot,” were some
f the exclamations heard on all sides.
One fellow in the crowd took np a big
/one and held it in front of him. "Fire
ato this,” he cried, and then he hnrled
he ntone right against the soldiers,
onndin’ one of ’em severely, at which
mob set up a laugh.
Another chap tore open the bosom ot
his shirt and struck his brio breast vio-
lently with his olesekad bauds. "Fire
into this,” he cried, hittiu’ his breast
>nce more. "Shoot mo here and take
.he life out of a free born American citi
zen for a British actor, if you dare.”
I The crowd aronnd went madder than
ver at this speech, and a chap hard by,
regular rough, took up a pavin’ stone,
and with a yell hnrled the stone full
against the sword arm of General Ban-
lord, disablin’ it for the time.
'This seemed to act on the mob like the
Mist taste of blood on the tiger, and
others began firin’ mhrilsi at Sanford,
but minin’ him in their haste.
It was again doubted whether the
military and the police together could
quell the mob. One man prophesied a
genera! uprisin’ throughout the entire
shy of New York.
It wn really, as OoL Duryea after
ward remarked', speakin’ of it, "an awful
moment.” •
But it was only a moment
The first order to the aoldien to fire pa
’he mob was green by General Hall
dearly and distinctly he spoke the ter-
ible ward, "fire!” It waa heard plainly
long the whole line of soldiery, amid
1 the canin’ and olaaocin’ of the mob.
Bnt only one musket responded to the
rder, and some of the mob laughed in
loekery.
Then General Sanford took np the
•ord. "Fire ! Fir* I" tie Palled oat
wioe, at the top of Us tengi. /
- • • i /
A number of muskets this time obeyed
the command; but the firin' did not be-
■xnne general
Then Colonel Duryea took np the
word. "Fire, Guard* I Fire !” he called
out. . ,
And the Guards fired, in earnest.
Such is the history of the memorable
firin’ on the mob at A*tor Place by an
evident that the military endured till
they could endure no more, end showed
patience as well as obedience.
A Veteran.
During the recent cold days, says the
Boston Journal, the boys, in accord
ance with old-time and honored habit
have gathered together on the parade,
ground of the Common and indulged in
lively games at foot-ball The other
day, while a company of them was thus
engaged, and they were bowling and
yelling in sneh manner that if there had
been any welkin round there it would
have been made to ring to some purpose,
an elderly citizen, who displayed a greater
circumference of his equator than he
did when he was a lioy, came by with a
younger friend and stopped to look at
the fun. "That looks like s good,
warm game,” said the elderly citizen as
he looked upon the fray. "How well I
remember playing foot-ball when I was
of their age. I believe I am good for a
kick now, although it is fifty yearn since
I tried it If the ball comes this way,
I’ll give it a rise.” Presently the rub
ber sphere came flying toward him,
and he caught it deftly and claimed the
right to a kick, which the boys allowed.
The elderly citizen then placed the. ball
on the ground, stepped back about ten
feet and prepared for a violent effort.
The boys, seeing the determination of
his look, retired to a safe distance. The
elderly citizen then laid aaide hit hat
and overcoat, hopped up and down
thrioe on his left foot while all the boys
looked anxious for fear he would send
'''the ball out ot sight, and having got the
range, ruahed down upon the inert
sphere ana delivered a kick that was in
tended to make all previous efforts in
that line seem feeble. Unfortunately,
however, the kick was given a moment
too soon, the heavy boot of the elderly
citizen went about six 'inches oyer the
ball, and the leg attached thereto, not
meeting the expected resistance, shot as
far heavenward as its attachments to its
owner’s body would allow. The elderly
citizen was thus thrown off his balance;
he sat down directly upon the ball with
a force of about five thousand foot
pounds ; "there came a burst of thunder
sound” as the globe was rent in twain
by the shock, and as the observer of the
scene departed le left the elderly citi
zen robbing his person with one hand,
while with the other he was fishing coin
out of his pocket for the boys to buy a
new ball
A Steamer Imported in Sections.
NaaM al (hr PtyMaMk Paatar’a Malta** la
a HaaSav tHwraar** aa l^va.
1IUM0RGBS PAPtlf,
WHAT WB
FIND IN
•VKK.
• little mar in.
StM felt he’d claim her a* his OWN,
For wusmu’s wit i* quick to as*
The growth of mad* by Cupid sown
JnM after tea
80* Mashes red whea cfow ah* hsare.. _.
The low-toned word* hr jmt hu uV)
And trembling on (he verge of tears.
ttb* bloahM rad.
And itartlad st the look cha bean,
For, ere he flnUbed, her coft heed
Droops and to Ua shoaiAer near*.
Hs baste* to
"I lovo—| love I
Tour dainty little band prepare* ri
She kl*'hM rad. *
-PMlatUfMa CaU.
The Athabaaka, one of the Clyde-built
steamships for the Canadian Pacific Rail
way, has arrived at Buffalo. She came
in two sections, which will be joined into
a complete hull at the lower dry-dock of
the Union Ship-yard The arrival of a
ClydQ-built b «t has nararaliy occasioned
considerable interest in marine circles.
The Athabaska is one of five steamship
that will form a line from Algoma Mills,
Georgian Bay, to Port Arthur, Lake Su
perior, a distance of 350 miles. The
line will be owned and run in connection
with the Canadian Pacific Railway. The
AthabaskairuTateel throughout. She
is 270 feet over all, thirty-eight feet
beam, draws sixteen feet two inches, and
measures eight feet between decks. 8he
is quite sharp forward, and has a clean
cut stem, though having barely half the
overhang of the average lake steamer.
The hull is divided into seven com
partments. Her carrying capacity is
about two thousand tons. The steamer
is provided with no leas than twelve en
gines, including two for working the
rudder. Qua of the most remarkable of
her appliances is what is called a repeat
ing telegraph. By means of this the
pilot gives the signals to the engineer,
who receive* them on a dial in the
engine room, and sends them back to
the pilot on the bridge. The latter can
thus tell whether his orders have been
understood. Another indicator on the
bridge shows the direction of the rodder
at all times. 1 “
The AtbaWska left Glasgow about
September Pfor Montreal, with a cargo
of soft ooal and pig iron, under command
of Captain Davidson. She arrived at
that port after a tedious trip of twenty-
one days, her air pomps giving out folly
eight times on the trip. It was neces
sary to ant the boll in two in order to
take it through the shallow canals of the
lower St Lawrence. As she waa built
with this object in view,
readily accomplished,
were placed on pontoons to go tl
the canals. Arriving at the foot of Iiake
Ontario, the pontoons were removed,
and the parts reeled on their own bot
toms. Two more ships are new in the
Welland Canal, and are expected daily.
the work was
The section*
"Yes,” said the farmer, "that eew is
badly hurt and wouldn’t bring |5. Bnt
I shall get more for her. A party of
•well city fellowi are coming down here
to hunt, and I shall pot her up in the
scrub ptee lot and tell them dear aboond
np there. Oh, she’s as good aa eaU for
Mr. Beecher, at Plymouth Church,
took as hie text, John xx., ff-10.^he
passages descritie the haste of Peter and
John to the ai-pulchro after Christ had
riacu. In the course of hit rormon he
Spive Utterance to the following :
•" Ji>lin and Peter raoed! That woe a
grand and glorious race to the sepulchre.
WcU, now you would lie! on Peter,
every one of you. John wee a very
modest man, bnt he cannot forget to put
in what no mythical man would ever
hare pur i n , th at ”t1nr other died pie
ontran Peter.*
“Peter loved ; John*., loved. John
loved with reflective power, Ffeter with
motive. Stat makes a very great dif
ference. Peter’s zeal was not fed from
the head; it woe the impulse of blood.
John was a passionate man, but reflec
tion grew with him a* action tended to
grow with Peter, and he lived more and
more an inward life than Peter.
"In that race to the sepulchre love
and reflection l>ent love and impulse. Bo
it has l>cen ever ainco. Not that tore
and impnlae arc bad; not that cither of
them ahonld exist alone; bnt if they are
separated and divided to the end of the
world love and reflection will beat in
activity, in large sco[>c, love and blood
impulse. /
"There are multitudes of mdn who
feel deeply, but feeling works inwardly,
and the more powerfully they feel the
less they are disposed to speak or to act
There are men who are like the strings
of a harp; you oonnot touch them that
they do not answer back again instantly.
Feeling works outwardly with them.
There are many men who, under heat,
lioil and bubble and throw oil the lid
and overflow and put out the fire.
"When the potato was first carried to
England they ate the tops. They didn't
know that the real potato lay under the
ground, hidden. There are a great
many men whose graces grow on the
top. They have no bottom roots at Ml.
They are all development.
"The power of one common Church is
that the lordliness of lovt brings to
gether all these gifts and graces that are
distribnted through various personal
ities, and makes them one in the life of
the Church.
"The men of divine, governmental
sympathy and the men of human sym
pathy, and the Church needs them
both.
"Schools in theology make themselves
the arbiters of all God’s decrees and all The edfor 0 f a paper bm i
God’s thought and admiration. The Sons asked him. and dres more aanrere.
extreme schools judge everything by than any man living, fbongh aoaedntie
their tenet, and4he lax schools judge answers may not be right. For instance,
everything by their tenet. There ain’t
one of you right, from the East to the
West. You are all imperfect.
"In this life we are tel fragmentary,
and in no direction more,than in moral
government In no direction are there
more different Urea of thought possible.
"You will sooner build a church that
will hold tel the population of the globe
than you will build one that will hold 1
tel the varying beliefs.
"The law of unity is not the law of
similarity. It is the low of love by
which every man receives every other,
and considers that variation from him
self as a rich contribution to the wily
and the grandeur of the whole, for the
Church of Christ moat represent the
ram total of tel that which God has re
vealed in tUU Ilf* and th* varying rii*.
oositions of the men of the earth.
"If we must analyze, divide, separate,
then of the two choose not zeal, clamor
ous and full of exterior activity.
Choose reflective love, not without ac
tivity, bnt more alow, more continuous,
deeper, and that pots into-the result of
activity more of God.
"Now, take this one thought home.
It i* original—I mean it will be if you
practice it in your life and in your home.
Bet yourself not np.as the judge of man.
Accept those around you in everything
that is in accordance with love and re
flection. Take them tp yourself; take
yourself to them. In your neighbor
hood, everywhere, thank God for the
differences that are Jhia side of wicked
ness. Every variation from yon is an
accretion to yon if yon will so accept
t.”
A MO MOTAKB.
"Ah! how dc do?" exclaimed the
hotel cleric delightedly, grasping the
hand of a stronger and giving tt a vigor
ous shake. "I suppose you will prefer
the second floor front mile; magniisent
apartments, rad cheap, too, only $00 a
day.”
"$ftO a what?” gasped tbd straiyer.
"A day. Will yon go rp dost?’*
"Not so fast, not so fast, yonag man,*
said the stranger. -"Don’t you think
your (erma are just a little high? ItM
a banker, bnt my fcaoome jeooipfK),000
a year.”
"Oh! I see, I see,” said the clerk;
"then a fifth floor $4 room will suit you.
I mistook you for an editor. ’’—Evening
Call ‘. ■ . ' •■Ji
^ cut* r» TVs
Some weeks since the Committee on
the Science of Political Econoosy of tee
Lime-Kiln Club were instructed to care
fully investigate the query l "Why will
a man pay out $4,000 to be elected to a
93,000 office T" The matter woe
in band and every effort mode to <
at a satisfactory sointion, but the eere-
mitteo now came fbrwaid with tee
acknowledgment fhat it was too
for them, and they asked to be
charged from the further
of the subject. ^
"Dar’ am sortin' things
nebber be found out, an’ die
’em,” said the President,
mittsc am discharged, an’
will now close in doe form,
as yon go out dot I am de only pussoo
who brung his nmbreller along to kesp
off de wot”
kin
"Do
de
teen.'V The
correspondent of on
says : "I hare a
suffered from periodtete
Please answer through your
paper and let me know what I should do
with him. I'm afraid he wfll get ’
if something k not
editor puts on hie i
authorities on staggers te
rad answers aa follows: "Our
’Every man his
would be to take him ]
toai
would not need the adviee, as ho would
sell the hone too qniok, i
him perfectly sound.
on a perusal of teeteduablel
Amm da
k Prehistoric Race.
"All along the Pacific Coast,” says a
writer in the San Francisco Bulletin,
"are to be found indelible tnoes of a
long-forgotten and prehistoric race.
While the investigation has been ot bat
comparatively recent date, still enough
has been discovered to show that an
almost limitless field baa been so far
only dipped into in a few places most
easy of access to the explorer. As yet,
these researches have been confined al
most altogether to th* immediate coast
of Southern California and to the cluster
of islands lying at a short distance there
from, which are now almost or quite
uninhabited, and are only need as ranges
for sheep and half-wild cattle or hogs.
They are known to have been densely
populated in long ages past, ss is shown
by extensive remains in the shape of
burial places rad debris of former hab
itations. Large quantities of interest
ing relics hare been exhumed and
shipped to
tdtifcraut
Dcsiao the year 1888 more than 2,801)
Mormon proselytes hare strived of Ban
7 ’ ’ - •>*
FTVB &ITT&U _ _ _
"Why did yon buy a new tmtr asked
a husband of his wife.
‘‘Because I hot to, that’s why.”
"Will you attend both banquets this
evening r said the enshiar to thh pwteg
teller.
"Yes, if the bank quits in time.”
• "How many boys in your family?”
"Six, and a boisterous time we hare
of it, too.
•‘Well, we’ve only got one, and M
boy stir w enough without multiplying
by half a dozen.”
"Pa, I want an overcoat.”
"How much?” ,,
"Twelve dollars.”
"That’s low enough; don’t overtoil*
"What a small man’Xodjerinrt
oand te,” remarked a Indy at th*
table.
"Oh, yes; she looks quite Xodjrelie
by the side of him,’
"Aw,” put in an old
don’t wont any Modjesting an sneh *
subject”—Merchant i
at dev*-
nr Tuotmu.
The proprietor of *i
(and skipped out red th*
gathered at the box oOoe m
fore about their pay.
who looked so much Hke *
like a baby, the giant stopped
corns of the dwarf and when th
began to peel off Ms east tofight *»</
gian t th* big man toned pal* red said
he didn’t wont any fum/a* he hod
premised his parents not I* fight Th* ,
living sketotou took up more room ttem •
anybody, If* oflhred to whip 4*
manager, while
at a white:
sira girl Finally ft* dwarf red ft*
living skeleton, bail
with the moat piuek, wore ippmum a
to
J