The Fairfield news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1881-1900, July 28, 1883, Image 1
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TRI-WEEKLY EDITION.
WINNSBORO. S. 0.. JULY 28. 1883.
ESTABLISHED 1848
THE VERDICT
—OF-
THE PEOPLE
BUY THE BEST!
Mr. J. O. Boag -Dear Sir: I bought the Oral
Davis Machine sold by you over five years ago for
my wife, who has given it a long and fair trial. I
am well pleased with it. It never Rives any
rouble, and Is as good as when first bought.
J. W. HOUCK.
Wlnnsboro, S. C:, April 1883.
Mr. Boag: T ou wish to know what 1 have to say
in regard to the Davis Machine bought of you three
years ago. I feel 1 can’t say too much in its favor.
I made abont $80,00 within five months, at times
running it so fast that the needle would get per-
fectlv hot from friction. I feel confident I could
not have done the same work with as much ease
and so well with any other machine. No time lost
In adjusting attachments. The lightest running
machine 1 have ever treadled. Brother James and
Williams’ families are as much pleased with their
Davis Machines bought or you. I want no better
machine. As I said before, I don’t think too
much can be said for the Davis Machine.
Respectfully,
Ellen s-tevknson,
Fairfield County, Apr!’, 1883.
Mr. Boag : My machine gives me perfect satis
faction. I find no fault with it The attachments
are so simple, i wish for no better than the Davis
Vertical Feed.
Respectfully.
Mrs. R. Milling.
Fairfield county, Apr!’, 1883.
Mr. Boag: I bought a Davis Vertical Feed
Sewing Machine from you four years ago. I am
delighted with it. It never has given me any
trouble, and has never been the least out of order.
It Is as good as when I first bought it. I can
cheerfully recommend it.
Respectfully,
Mrs. M. J. Kirkland.
Montlcello, April 30,1883.
This Is to certify that I have been using a Davis
Vertical Feed Sewing Machine for over tw i years,
purchased of Mr. J. O. Boag. I*haven’t found It
possessed of any fanlt—all the attachments are so
simple. It never refuses to work, and is certainly
the lightest running in the market. I consider it
a first-class machine.
Very respectfully.
Minnie M. Willinguah.
Oakland, Fairfield county, S. C.
Mr Boag : i am wen p’easea in every particuia
with the Davis Machine bought of you. I think i
a first-class machine in every respect. You knew
you sold several machines of the same make to
different members of our families, all of whom,
as far as I know, are well pleased with them.
Respectfully,
Mrs. M. II. Moblev.
Fairfield county, April, 1883.
This Isto ceruty we have had in constant use
the Davis Machine bought ot yon about three years
ago. As we take In work, and have made the
prlceof it several times over, we don’t want any
better machine. It Is always ready to do any kind
of work we have to do. No puckering or skipping
stitches. We can only say we are well pleased
and wish no better machine,
Catherine Wylie and Sister.
April 25,1883.
I have no fault to find with my mnchne, and
don’t want any better. I have made the price of
it several times by taking in sewing. It is always
ready to do its work. I think it a first-class ma
chine. I feel I can't say too much for the Davis
Vertical Feed Machine.
Mrs. Thumas Smith.
Fairfield county, April, 1883.
t gi
pleasu.e to testify to the merits of the Davis Ver
tical Feed Sewing Machine. The machine I got of
yon about five years ago. has been almost In con
stant nse ever since that time. I cannot see that
It is worn any, and has not cost me one cent for
repairs since we have bad it Am well pleased
and don’t wish for any better.
Yours tru'y,
Kobt. Crawford,
Granite Quarry, near Wlnnsboro S. C.
We have used the Davis Vertical Feed Sewing
Machine for the last five years. We would not
have any other make at any price. The machine
has given us unbounded satisfaction.
Very respectfully,
Mrs. W. K. Turner and Daughters^
Fairfield county, S. C., Jan. 2i, 1883.
Having bought a Davis Vertical Feed Sewing
Machine from Mr. J. O. Boag some three years
ago, and It having given me perfect satisfaction in
•very resjiect as a family machine, both for hea.y
and light sewing, and never needed the least re
pair In any way, I can cheerfully recommend it to
any one as a first-class machine in every particu
lar, and think it second to none. It Is one ot the
simplest machines made; my children use It with
all ease. The attachments are more easily ad
justed and It does a greater range of work by
means of its Vertical Feed than any other ma
chine 1 have ever seen or nsed.
Mrs. Thomas Owing*.
Wlnnsboro, Fairfield county, S. C.
We have bail one of the Davis Machines about
four years and have always fonnd It ready to do all
kinds of work we have had occasion to da Can’t
see that the machine is worn any, and works as
well as when new.
Mrs. W. J. Crawford,
Jackson’s Creek, Fairfield connty, S. C.
My wife Is highly pleased with the Davis Ma
chine bought of yon. She would not take doable
what she gave for It. The machine has not
been out of order since she had It, and she can do
any kind of work on It.
Very Respectfully,
Jas. F. Free.
Montlcello, Fairfield connty, s. C.
The Davie Sewing Machine Is simply a treas
ure Mrs. J. A. uoodwyn.
Ridgeway, N. C., Jan, 10, 1883.
J,O Boag, Esq., Agent—Dear Sir: My wife
has been using a Davie Sewing Machine constant
ly for the pas. four years, and It has never needed
any repairs an I works just aa well as when first
bought. She says It will do a greater range of
practical work end do it eaaler and better than
any macl.tne she has ever nsed. We cheerfully
recommend It as a No. 1 family machine,
Yonr tnLy, •
Jas. Q. Davis.
Wlnnsboro, S. C., Jan. 3,1883.
Mb. Boag : I have always fonnd my Davis Ma
chine ready do all kinds of to work I have had oc
casion to do. I ciumol see that the machine Is
worn a particle and it works aa wed as when new.
Respectfully,
Mbs. R. C. Gooding.
Wlnnsboro, ?. C., April, 1883,
Kb. Boag: My wife has been constantly uelng
the Davis Machine bought of yon abont five years
acc. I have never regretted buying It, as it la
always ready for any kind of family aewlng, either
heavy or light. It Is never out of fix or needing
repairs.
" Very respectfully,
A. w. Ladd.
Fairfield, S. C., March, 1883.
“WE ONEY.”
Come, wife, dear woman, and sit by me,
For the toilsome day is adone,
And many thoughts in my heart are horn
With the setting of the sun.
Ay, give me your hand my patient love,
That my own may clasp it tight;
Not dearer was it in the days agone,
Dear wife, than it is to-night.
Old and wrinkled it may be dear,
But look you, wife, at the shine
Of the ring that has clung to your linger
there
Since the day that I made yon mine.
’Tw r as a long, long march from our youth to
age,
But Time, be he ne’er so gray,
Can never tarnish the lustre, dear,
Of the pledge of our wedding day.
E’en so the truth of a faithful love,
Born far in the auld lang syne,
In our steadfast hopes, through weal and
woe,
Never has ceased to shine.
There are tears in your eyes, my wife, to
night;
You are thinking, dear, I know,
How strange it is that as shadows fall, *
We only are left below.
We only to sit at the old hearthstone,
In the twilight, dear, of life,
While our children wait at the gates above—
When shall we meet them, wife?
Nay, dry those tears and be glad with me,
That the day is almost done,
And father, mother and children all
May meet—with the set of sun.
THE WIDOW’S TEST.
•‘Sybella, you are going to do what a
widow generally does when she marries
a second time. Y"ou are going to make
fool of yourself I Arthur Austin
doesn’t love you; it’s your money he
w r ants!”
Thus spoke Aunt Margaret, prim and
im, behind her inevitable knitting-
needles. Her niece, Sybella Ruthven,
a young widow, looked at her indignant
ly’
“Why, auntie!” she said, “how
naughty of you! And have I no charms
that a lover should not be possible to
me?”
“But, can’t you compare this man
yourself with poor, dear Reginald, who
w’ould do anything to make you happy?
I’d rather live on the memory of such
love than take a pretence of a love like
this. Why, your Arthur Austin is too
selfish to love any one hut himself; and
though, of course, first love stands apart
and you can’t have Reginald back again,
only be sensible for a moment and con
trast Mr. Austin with the men you have
refused—that fair-haired artist—that
merry, good-hearted German, with a red
mouth just made for kissing—and old
Mr. Bell, who, if he was 70, worshiped
me giuimu you irou upon, i tell you
there’s neither sentiment nor passion in
Arthur Austin. He is an extravagant
fellow, and he is lazy, too! He happened
to have the kind of looks you like, and
so you’ve been silly enough to turn your
back upon good men and held out youi
arms to him.”
“Oh, auntie! any one would think I
did the courting!” said the little widow.
“Hold out my arms, indeed!”
“It’s alrthe same thing,” replied the
elder lady. “Y’ou dropped into his arms
like a ripe cherry when he held them
out, and it’s dreadful to me to see you
expecting so much, when you’ll get so
little. A gay honeymoon, perhaps.
After that, neglect, the pangs of jeal
ousy—with good reason, too, no doubt
—and bitter, life-long regret.”
“Auntie, dear, I love him, “said Sy
bella. “I used to say no woman could
love twice, but this second affection is
very strong, and as sweet as! if I were
sixteen again. I trust dear Arthur
thoroughly. If I had not a penny in
the world I should be even dearer to
him. He has often said that he wished
that I had not. But I’ll not be angry
with you, auntie; only I’ll test him. I’ll
prove him. You shall own how gener
ous he is, and how fond of me.”
“I trust so,” said the old lady; “but
I don’t believe it, and beside, you are
already haviug your wedding dress
made.”
But Mrs. Ruthven, as she kissed her
aunt good-night, vowed that the test
should be made.
“He will foigiv§ me when I tell him
all,” she said. “Aunt Margaret is so
good that I cannot bear she should not
exactly know how good Arthur is also.
Dear Arthur!”
Then she ran up-stairs, and opening
the locket in which she wore his por
trait, kissed it a thousand times, think
ing those thoughts that fill the heart of
any loving woman who is a promised
bride, and which are so pure and holy
that while they move her she is a better
woman for them.
Great grief had come to Sybella when
her young husband was torn from her
heart, and she had been very wretched
for long years; but the wound had heal
ed at last, and then Arthur Austin had
come into her life, suiting her so per
fectly, realizing her every dream of
what a man should be. Often she won*
dered how it was that she should ever
be so happy again.
Doubt him! Ah! she would not dare
to doubt him. But Aunt Margaret
should be satisfied.
“You are looking very grave, my
dear,” said Arthur, as they sat together
the next evening.
“A little, perhaps,” shqrfanswered. “I
have been worried about Something. I
don’t know exactly how to explain it.
But when banks fail, people who have
their money in them must suffer, you
know; and you’ve read of the failure of
the Cosmopolitan Bank to-day?’'
“Yes,” he said. “You had your
money there?”
“If I had not, would it trouble me
that it should fail?” she asked. “To be
sure, I have a little beside, but Aunt
Margaret and old Uncle Reuben must
have a home, you know, and I suppose
I shall have about $200 a year over all
expenses. You’ll not have a rich wife,
Arthur, after all. ”
He paused a moment, then answered,
huskily: “It shall be my pride and
pleasure to see that you want nothing,
Sybella. I am almost glad you have
become poor for that reason.”
Then he kissed her and Sybella was
happy, but ashamed of herself for put
ting him to the test.
“You see he is all I thought him,
auntie,” she said to Mrs. Margaret,
when he was gone. “I shall tell him
all to-morrow.”
“No,” said Mi's. Margaret, “wait a
week. Promise me you’ll wait a week,,
Sybella?”
So Sybella waited, and Aunt Marga
ret, watching, saw the signs she waited
for, though this loving woman had as
yet no suspicion of the truth.
Four days had passed.
It was a bright day, and there was to
he a pleasant picnic party that after
noon. Syliella and her bethrothed were
among them. They were all old friends
and Mrs. Ruthven was m her gayest
mood, and chatted merrily with all-
perbaps a little more with a shy young
fellow of eighteen, who was in the com
pany, than with any other, because of
his youth and shyness.
Arthur Austin had begun the day in
his usual good spirits; but as it went on
lie grew gloomier and gloomier, and at
last relapsed jnto perfect silence. In
vain did his betrothed endeavor to cheer
him. He scarcely sjtoke or looked at
her, and at last his manner began to
have effect upon the whole party. One
after the other grew dismal, and the
return home was as solemn as a funeral
procession.
At Sybella’s door Austin lifted his
hat coldly and bade her good evening
without even a pressure of the hand.
“You are coming in, Arthur?” she
said, softly.
“No,” he answered.
“Are you ill?”
At that he turned sharply upon her
and said aloud: “No, I am not ill. I
am not blind—that is all Nor deaf,
either. I have watched and listened
to-day to my cost. Good evening!”
“What did he mean, aunt?” cried
Sybella, when the door had closed,
“What has been done? I saw nothing.”
“He is pretending to be jealous of
young Mordaunt,” said Aunt Margaret,
quietly. “Sybella, have courage. He
means to quarrel and break it off with
you, now that he thinks you penniless.
Tell him the truth, and he will soon re
cover from his jealousy. Keep it to
yourself, and you will never be able to
mollify him.”
And this time Sybella only sighed.
But she went to her room and wrote a
pretty letter to her lover, begging him
to come to her, and when he came she
met him with an offer of her lips, which
he shocked her by rejecting.
“You know how I have Iteen offended,
Sybella,” he said. “You know you
flirtecj with that boy Mordaunt all day!”
“I did nothing of the kind! I never
flirted in my life; why should I begin
to do so now? No woman was ever
truer than I have been to you!”
n ►. “I doubt it!” said he. “I have seen
rrmHi, and T suepeot more; aud, Since
your conduct lias alienated my heart
from you, we iiati better part. Tneie is
only one way of managing these things.”
Sybella looked earnestly at him. She
saw no jealous madness there; only a
cool deteminatiou to set aside his en
gagement with a woman whom he had
never loved, and whose fortune had
been his only object from the first.
And she knew that Aunt Margaret
had been right; hut she loved him so
well, and trusted him so entirely, that
it seemed to her as if the knowledge
would rend soul from body. She tried
to bide her tears, but in vain.
Slowly she drew her engagement ring
from her finger and put it into his hand
and turned away. At the door a strong
hand grasped hers. It was Aunt Mar
garet’s. She led her niece to her room,
and returned to the parlor before Arthur
Austin had left it.
Standing before him, looking straight
The old Spy-Glass.
at him, she said: “So, sir, you have
been tried in the furnace and found
wanting! You know that my niece’s
loss of fortune is at the bottom of this.
Don’t prevaricate; you know it is true.
I have seen through you from the first.”
“It is not your affair,! belie’ e,” Ar
thur answered, sulkily. ‘ Of course,
when a man expects to maiTy money, he
isn’t pleased to find himself saddled with
a poor wife and her beggarly relations.
But of course I was jealous. I’ve broken
it all off with Sybella on that account ,
and it’s her own fault.”
“She has had a lucky escape, Mr.
Austin,” said Aunt Margaret; “but be
fore you go, let me tell you a little se
cret. Sybella has not lost her money.
The bank that failed had not a penny
of hers in it. And as for the beggarly
relation—you mean me, you know-
poor Aunt Margaret is worth her $50,-
000, and every shilling of it is to be left
to her dear niece Sybella Ruthven. I
warned her that you did not lovelier. I
forced her against her will to put you
to the test. And now I see that I was
right, and you may go, Mr. Arthur
Austin.”
Mr. Austin departed. A month after
ward he wrote a penitent letter to Sy
bella, telling her that he believed him
self to have been causelessly jealous, and
quoting a good deal from Byron anil
Shakspeare on the subject. But the
woman who is fooled twice by the same
individual must be a hopeless idiot, and
Mrs. Ruthven will remain Mrs. Ruth
ven until some better man asks her to
change her name.
A Strange Garment.
A tall young man went bathing in
the Mohawk river at Schenectady, New
York, with several other Sabbath-
breakers, in spite of previous protests
against their selection of such a con
spicuous place for their ablutions.
While they were in the water a Mr.
Yan Yoast appeared upon the bank
and carried off an armful of their
clothing. All of the bathers, however,
had enough apparel left to get home
without undue exposure except the tall
young man, whose only remaining rai
ment was a collar and a pair of shoes.
But as luck would have it, he found
near the river an empty barrel, out of
which he knocked the heads and into
which he stepped, and thus appareled
he made his way home across the fields,
painfully holding up the barrel as he
walked, but dropping and sinking into
it whenever anyone appeared in sight.
Before he reached^the paternal man
sion half the dogs in town had detected
his predictment and united to form a
howling escort.
—A million and a half shad are to be
put in Kentucky waters.
Uncle Silas had a rickety, old-fash
ioned spy-glass that he kept in a sail-
loft on the end of a decaying w'harf,
where he stored the spars and sails of
his boats in winter-time. The loft was
warmed by a rusty, dnim-shaited, sheet-
iron stove. There were no chairs in
it, only one or two benches. Uucle
generally sat on the floor when he was
patching the sails. For a thimble he
used what sailors call a palm, which is
a leathern band, with a central piece of
steel punctured like a thimble. With
this he pressed the large spike-like ueedle
through the heavy v canvas. There was
always a number »jf old hea-captains or
fishermen or sea-loving lads whiling
away the time in Uncle Si’s sail-Wt.
telling their experience or listening to
boat down to pick her up; until I see a
shark’s fin not more’n a cable’s length
away. This settled me; ’twa'n’t in
human natur’ to stand by and see a
poor innocent creeturlike that eaten up
by them bloody monsters.
“I just cast off the coil of the main-
brace from the belayin’-pin, and, bold
ing the end in my hand, went over-
board. I dove close to the child, and
caught her by the hair just as she was
goin’ down. Then I took her under
the arms, and, holding on to the brace,
called to them to haul in. The shark
was mighty nigh bv this time, and as I
drew my leet out of the water, he shot
right under me and bruisfcd my foot
with his fin.
“Capt Luce didn’t say nothing when
be got his child alxtard, but he was
just like one dazed. His wife took him
-— — — ~—X | . ——. .» w
stories of the sea. Or they would talk | -jcIow, and that night he was lyin’ in
about their favorite ships, or look out
of a small square-shaped window, shaped
like a port-hole, at the vessels gliding
into the harbor.
They often used the old rickety spy
glass, which threatened to fall to pieces
every time it was taken up; but the
glass was Uncle Si’s especial delight.
He prized it as the apple of his eye. To
say anything against that spy-glass w'as
to start him into a long discussion,
which went to show that he was behind
the times. For he always insisted that
all the improvements of later science
had failed to make any improve
ments in telescopes that would
eclipse his cherished old telescope. But
nothing would induce him to tell how
the glass came into his possession. We
knew that he had had many advent
ures, like every man who has ever been
to sea. and surmised that there was
something peculiar attending his right
to the old spy-glass, although uo one
who knew Uncle Si ever suspected that
there was anything discreditable to him
in having it.
But, one day, it happened that the
death was reported, in the sail-loft, of
a well-known shimpaster, Capt. Luce.
“Is Capt. Luce dead, then?”-ex
claimed Uncle Si. “Well, that reminds
me that he knew tvs much about that
spy-glass as I do.”
Every one at once gave attention, for
we seemed on the eve of learning the
story of the old telescope.
“Not that it’s so much of a yarn,
either,” said the old skipper; “but I
just remember the v’yage 1 took with
him, some 25 years ago last August. I
shipped before the mast, for Calcutta,
in the ship Skimmer of the Seas. Luce
was master, and he had his wife and
little girl with him. He knew his biz-
ness, it’s a fact, but be made us toe the
“We had a good run out to Calcutta,
and nothing special to note. But ou
the way home we met a hurricane near
Mauritius. The ship behaved well, but
the gale carried away some of the light
spars.
“A few days after this we sighted a
wreck and bore down to see if she had
beeu abandoned. The wind was. mo
derate, and so a boat was sent off to
her. We found she was a French ship.
There wasn’t a living soul ou board.
The crew had all left her in the boats,
you see, except one poor fellow who lay
dead just inside the companion-way.
We didn’t dare to stay loug, for the
bark w r as wallowing deep in the sea aud
went down just after we left her. But
we bnuught away with us a box of tea
aud this ’ere spy-glass. After this we
had calms until the tar all came out of
the seams of our ship and the captaiu’s
temper gave out. The heat and the
terrible long calm kinder made him
crazy, I think. You couldn’t wink but
what he’d be at you. Now it was the
man at the wheel he abused; then he’d
heave belayiu’ pins at the lookout, or
he’d kick the steward. ’Twas only
when his child Ella—he called her
Birdie—was around that he was quiet.
He loved her, and when he began to
swear and cuss, Mrs. Duce would send
the little girl to him, and he’d stop right
off and take her in his arms and wind
her curls around his fingers.
“One day it was my turn at the wheel.
The captain was aft fooling with the
glass we’d got from the Frenchman.
He took it all to pieces and wiped it
clean and talked about it to himself.
This is the glass to use,’ said he, in
mutterring voice. ‘I never see the like
on it. Guess I can scare up a breeze
with such a weapon ’
“Just then the ship gave a lurch. She
was onsteady-like, you see, bein’ as it
was a dead calm and a lump of a swell
a-heaving up from the south’ard bring
ing a wind with it. This threw one of
the lenses in the glass on the deck, and
it went a-rollin’ toward the scupper,
but it lodged iu the waterways. The
captain got up and looked at me. His
face was as white as a sheet he was so
mad. His eyes glared like a demon’s.
He walked up to me with his teeth
clenched. Then he up with his fist and
made a blow at my head, saying —
•‘Where did you larn to steer, you
confounded son of a land-lubber?’
1 jest dodged the blow, and he fetched
another clip at me.
“ ‘Capt, Luce,’ says I, ‘I’m a-doin’
the best I can. It’s this swell tliat did
it. I can’t steer without nao a breeze. ’
“‘Yes, you can, you lubber 1 You
did it apurpose! I’m a good mind to.
make shark’s meat of you!’
his bunk with a fever and ravin’ for
his child. Tne mate took charge of
the ship. A breeze sprung up that
night, we were close to Cape Town
and we put in there for a doctor. We
lay there two w r eeks afore Capt Luce
was himself again. He was like ano
ther man the rest of the voyage, peace
able-like and meek as a Quaker.
“After we’d got to Boston and laid
the ship up by Long wharf, and I was
a-goin’ ashore, he called me to come
aft. His child w as sittin’ on his knee
and playin’ with his watch.
“ ‘Bill,’ said he, ‘I aint said nothin’
to you about how you risked your Lfe
for my child, but I aint one of them
folks who forget such a thing as that.
1 want to do the right thing by you,
although I could never pay back the
great debt I owe to you. What can I
do for you?”
“ ‘Capt Luce,’ says I, ‘you don’t
need to worry yourself about it. I ditl
my duty, and I’d do it again for such a
trim little gal as that.’
“ ‘No,’ says he, T aint satisfied to
leave it that way.’
“ ‘Well,” says I, ‘if it’lj make you
feel better, then 1 don’t mind if you
let me have the glass we got out of the
French bark. It’ll serve to make me
remember little Ella.’
“ ‘It’s yourn,’ says he.”
“And so, lads, that’s the way 1 came
to have that’ere spy-glass. ”
A lieH-Klnglng Hoy.
“I would like to ring that bell,
won’t you let me ring that bell ?
Say,
That
I’ll give
ring that
shark 1
:ou’d
“‘YflU’d better take carel’ says I,
speaking up smart, for there was blood
in his eye, and we’d stood this sort of
bullying long enough
“ ‘ You dare to sass me, do you?’ said
he. ‘i’ll teach you to mutiny on board
my ship?’ and he made a movement as
if he was going to draw the revolver out
of his pocket.
“I let go of the wheel and was just
a-goin’ at him with both hands—I didn’t
want to draw my knife—when 1 heard
the wild scream. We both stopped and
looked around. Mrs. Luce was a-fiyin’
up the companion-way, a-shriekin’ and
a-cryin,’ ‘My child! Oh, my child! She’s
overboard 1’
‘T looked over the side of the ship.
I saw the little thing under the lee
quarter, a-struggling and a-holding out
her hands. We all loved the little
creetur, although she was the child of
that old sea tyrant. But I didn't think
much of her bein’ in the water, for
’twas smooth and we’d soon have a
must be a fine-sounding bell
you fifty cents if you let me
bell.”
The speaker was a mild-eyed young
fellow with an innocent look upon his
faro that inspired confidence at the first
sight. He was a Boston boy and was
in Waterloo. Camuin with nnlw fiftv
cents m Ins pocket. He hadn’t had
any breakfast or dinner, and when he
offered Charley Hall, the proprietor of
the hotel, fifty cents for the privilege of
ringing the huge dinner-bell that set in
the office, he was playing for a stake.
Charley gave the youth a casual
glance, “sized him up” as a “fresh,”
aud then told him he could ring the
bell as long as he wished to for fifty
cents.
The young man laid down his last
fifty cents, seized the bell and began Ui
vigorous ringing.
As it happened to be about the din
ner hour, the proprietor thought this a
good joke.
In through the parlors, out upon the
veranda and even up into the chambers
sounded the clang of the bell. The
guests soon became annoyed and then
exasperated. “What in thunder have
you got that bell ringing for?” asked
one. “Tie a rope to tliat calf and haul
him in,” said another. “If you don’t
put a stop to that confounded nuisance
we’ll quit your house,” said a third.
The landlord, thoroughly bewildered,
both by the ringing of the bell and the
complaints of the guests, went out to
the fellow and said: “Come, haven’t
you rung that bell about long enough ?
The guests are all complaining about
it.”
“Rung it long enough? Bless your
soul, I haven’t hardly begun yet. What
do you suppose I paid you the last fifty
cents tnat 1 had in the world for? Jxmg
enough? Pshaw! You must be crazy,
man. Just listen to that bell. Ain’t
that a splendid sounding bell ? What a
magnificent bell! man, aud then think
how you could ask me to stop ringing
that bell. I’d rather ring this bell than
eat my dinner. Don’t keep botheri ng
me: let me attend to Oils bell.”
By this time the attention of the town
officers was attracted to the matter, and
the landlord was told he must discon
tinue the ringing of the bell.
• ‘Condemn it. ” said the now thorough
ly exasperated landlord, “I’m not ring
ing the bell.”
“Well, you must stop it, no matter
who it is that’s ringing it.”
To the bell-ringer again went the an
noyed landlord and repeated his re
quest, this time a little more severe.
“I want you to let up on this business.
You have made noise enough, and I
think its time to stop. Do you want
to alarm the whole country?”
“Just listen to that bell; ain’t that a
daisy bell? That’s the best bell I think
I ever heard. Where did you get this
bell. What an exceptionally fine sound
ing bell. What will you take for that
bell?”
“The question ain’t what I’ll take for
the bell, but what you’ll take to let
up,” said the excited landlord.
“Well, I don’t know that I care to
stop, but ain’t that a tine sounding bell
—if it’s all the same to you about $10,
I think would be about right.”
“I won’t give you $10, but I’ll tell
you what I will do; I’ll give you $5
and the best dinner you ever had if
you’ll stop right where you are.”
“Agreed; let’sliaveyour$5. Thanks.
Now we’ll go into dinner,” and in a
few minutes the ravenous youth from
the “Hub” was putting away roast
beef and chicken salad at a marvelously
rapid rate.
—Lord and Lady Onslow are about
to leave England on a lengthened tour
through Canada and the United States.
—Sir Frederick Leighton’s style of
speaking, like his style of painting, is
elaborate. He is graceful, courtly and
complimentary.
High-Priced Brides.
“A New York fashionable wedding
is a very expensive thing,’’said a promi
nent New Y r ork caterer of Fifteenth
street to a journalier.
“Of course,” said the reporter, “the
bride’s clothes cost a great deal, and
perhaps the groom has to pay the minis
ter a large sum, but do the other ex-
jienses amount to much ?”
“The bride’s outfit is something I
don’t know anything about. If a wed
ding is coming off, the bride’s father or
mother or uncle or somebody comes to
me and says: ‘I am going to have a
wedding and I want you to furnish for
it.’ ‘All right,’I say, ‘how many guests?’
‘Well, about three hundred to the re
ception. ’ Then I set to work to calcu
late what kind of a table they want.”
“How much per guest,” interrupted
the reporter, “doest it take for a very
nice wedding collation ?”
•‘Well, I can set a very pretty table
for $1.50 per head. That will include
ices, bouillion, cake, wine, jellies, bon
bons, several kinds of salads, sand
wiches, flowers, china, waiters and all.”
“What else beside the above menu
would jieople want ?’
“O! many things. Champagne,
oysters, a spiced fish which cost $20—
more, if he is a nice fellow; cold meats,
etc. These are all expensive tilings,
and of course we have to charge for
them.”
“Do you include the wedding cake in
the $1 50 estimate ?”
“Not generally. You see it costs us
about twenty cents for each box full.
The box costs a few cents, the white
satin ribbon that ties it about eight
cents, and the cake about ten cquts.
Each box costs the person who orders
it aliout thirty-five cents, which just
multiplied by 300 cents, comes to $105.
You can always tell a swell wedding
by the cake that’s served to you.”
“How do you go about serving a
wedding collation ?”
“I send my head man to inspect the
dining-room and kitchen. Then the
dishes and silver are sent, the kitchen
being given entirely into the hands of
my men. They set the table, mix the
salads, turn out the ices, etc., and just
before the guests come I go over and
see if everything is going smoothly.
Some caterers take everything left over
away with them. It is a bad thing to
do. The family like the remains of
the feast so much, and it is really of no
use to the caterer, except for the wai
ters.”
As the reporter left the caterer’s he
encountered Johnson. Johnson is a
young and rather good-looking man.
He takes charge of the carriages and
the admittance of guests at every fash
ionable affair. He is to be seen stand-
atVfucVi'tlie balY or"we<Ycling e iS n 'ic2'ur-
ringj and calls the •numbers of the
carnages, helps the ladies out, keeps
rogues away, and knows everybody.
“Why,” said a young lady to a
journalist, “there is never the least
danger of any one but those we desire
getting into a house aa long as Johnson
is around. You can trust him entirely.
And everyone is sure to get their own
carriage, too. He is worth his $100 or
$200 a night, and besides he often has
men to assist him.”
“Flowers,” said a florist to the re
porter, “cost money. But there are
several ways of decorating a house. I
can make pretty decorations for $75 or
$100, and I can make decorations for
$500. From $100 to $200 Is the general
layout, however. That will include the
church also. You see we place the
palms, ferns and growing plants about
the chancel, but we take them all back
again. But a wedding hell, a horn of
plenty and baskets of flowers cost the
money.
“What are the other expenses of wed
dings besides the flowers and the sup-
jier ?” he was asked.
“There are the carriages at $2 to $5
apiece. The bride’s family order about
four besides their own; and there are
the awnings at the house and church,
at $15 apiece, and about $25 to the sex
ton and $10 for the use of the church,
and then there are the invitations—a
big bill in themselves. People send
cards to hundreds they do not invite.
Take for instance Mrs. Vanderbilt’s
ball; She invited 1,200 people. For
invitations, directing and delivery, it
cost her over $000. Now, let us figure
up. For the breakfast—$150 a head
for 300 people, $4 50; flowers, $200;
wedding cake, $105; awnings $.‘K); John
son $100; carriages, $10; clothes, $300;
in all, $1,195. I think I’ll just get
married and go without the wedding.”
Sale of Furniture on Notes.
V. bought from F. furniture, and
paid for it in other furniture and notes,
and there was an agreement that “if
the notes are not paid F. cau retake
The Hero of Chippewa.
V. £
On the 28th of this month, June, the
home of Samuel Smith, the “hero of
Chippewa,” will be sold at auction, the
last member of his family. Miss Min
nie, having died a few months ago.
The act of daring that won for the
brave Canadian his tiile was performed
one winter several years since. A scow
containing four men broke loose and
started down stream for Niagara Falls
at a terrific rate. Smith saw the scow
as it approached Chippewa. He sprang
Into a clinker boat at once. As he
forged out into the stream he made a
hasty survey of the situation and then
plied the white ash with redoubled
energy. As he sped along, the l>oat
almost leaping from the water at eatfh
stroke, a cheer arose from the people
on the shore that fairly rent the air.
The moment Smith appeared the atten
tion of the men on the scow was rive
ted upon him and his frail craft. On
and on he shot, each stroke narrowing
the distance lietween him and the
scow, but the latter was getting alarm-
ngly close to the rapids, to enter
which was certain destruction to all on
hoard. As he neared the scow he
turned his head and shouted to the
men: “Scatter along the side of the
boat and drop in as I pass by.” The
command was promptly obeyed and the
little craft was alongside. One after
another the men sprang in, until the
four were safely in the bottom.
Now came a moment of painful
anxiety. “What will he do?” was the
query that came to every mind. Smith
had his plan of action and never hesita
ted a moment. At a point some dis
tance from the Canada shore the cur
rent divided at the head of the rapids,
part of the stream flowing around an
island in the vicinity of the burnt
spring. In reacning the current lead
ing around the island lay the only hope
of escajie. Taking a diagonal course
across and down the stream Smith
bent every effort to reach the Canadian
divide. It was a desperate struggle
for the life of five men between the
seething, boiling waters and the muscle
and endurance of young Smith, with
the odds seemingly against him. But
the divide was finally gained with not
a boat’s length to spare, and the frail
craft shot down between the island
and the mainland like a rocket. At
the foot of the island the channel
widened materially, the current slack-
ened aud the water became more shal
low. and here young Smith landed his
boat, having performed one of the
most heroic and daring feats ever per
formed by mortal man.
The. stepping ashore of the men was
the signal for another cheer that for a
Hfteraffy
home upon the shoulders of the excited
people.
InvaHlun of the Holy Luiut.
the furniture again
not paid, and F. went
” The notes were
to V.’s house
The latest proposition is to build a
maritime canal through "Palestine, and
an English company, with the Duke of
Marlborough at its head, has been form
ed for the purpose of making investiga
tions and preliminary surveys. So far
as at present proposed, the work will
include, in the first instance, a canal
twenty-five miles iu length, from Haifa,
in the Bay of Acre, through the plain
of Asdraclou to the valley of the river
Jordan. The depth of the proposed
canal is to be forty feet and its width
200 feet. This will bring the Mediter
ranean into the heart of Palestine, and
go far towards making a seaport of
Jerusalem. It is further proposed to
construct a canal twenty miles in length
from the head of the Gulf of Akaboah
to the Dead Sea, and thus unite the
waters of the latter with the Red Sea.
If these things were successfully per
formed it is expected that an inland sea
about 300 miles long, varying in width
from three to ten miles, and deep enough
to fioat vessels of the largest size, would
extend from the Mediterranean to the
Red Sea. There are some matters be
sides engineering difficulties which may
hinder the execution of this project.
The consent of the Porters indispen-
sable, and certain European powers
would undoubtedly oppose the granting
of a firman conferring upon England
the exclusive right of way by water
through Palestine. The holy land also
has sacred associations for Christians
throughout the world, and a widespread
sentiment among all churches and sects
would doubtless be raised in opposition
to the innovation. It is possible that
the new enterprise may be proved to the
satisfaction of many devout men and
women to be the fulfilment of the
prophecy of Ezekiel, to the effect that
there is to be a broad sea in the desert,
and that “the fishers shall stand upon
it from En-dedi even unto En-eglaim.”
What a Farmer Needs.
with several men, in the absence of Y.,
and, in opposition to the wishes of the
other members of the family, carried
the furniture away. V. sued for da
mages and recovered a judgment. F.
appealed the case—Van Wren vs. Flynn
—to the Supreme Court of Louisiana,
where the judgment was affirmed.
Judge Fenner, in the opinion, said:
“The acts complained of, unless the
agreement removed the parties from
the application of the general princi
ples of law, constituted a gross outrage
upon the rights and feelings of the plain
tiff as a citizeu and a man, for which
Courts of justice must grant redress or
sanction the personal exaction of satis
faction by violence. The agreement
cannot, in our opinion, shield the de
fendant. It does not purport, in terms,
to confer upon the defendant the right
to enter the house of the plaintiff, in
his absence, without his cousent and
without notice, and carry off its con
tents. The grant of the simple right to
retake his furniture on non-payment of
the price cannot be construed to em
brace such power. It conferred, at
most, a kgal right upon defendant,
which. liMother rights, could be en
forced oin|r with the consent of the
plaintiff ot by' legal process; and we
doubt, under the evidence here, whe
ther any Court would have awarded
possession to F. without requiring an
tecedent tender dr payment of that part
of the price which had been paid,”
A farmer needs his vacation just as
much as any man of business needs one.
A week’s run to town after the busy sea
son is over will do him a world of good.
And they need to visit other farmers,
to learn, if possible, easier or better
methods of farming or of living. They
need to attend farmers’ conventions and
organizations to gam new ideas—some
thing to broaden or enlarge their views
of life. People who always stay at home
are sure to seek dark sides and shadows
of their own lives. They need to learn
and to realize that storms and droughts
and thunders and showers and treahets
visit other farms beside their own; that
weeds and insects thrive in all degrees
of longitude; that flies and dirt accumu
late and annoy other households beside
the ones that they preside over. In short,
they need to learn how other people live.
Could farmers manage so as to be con
fined less to their farms, could they work
more in partnership, as do men in other
business, or could they believe it profit
able to employ a higher grade of labor
ers—men whom they could trust alone
for a day or week, or could they earlier
train their sons and daughters to have a
care and an interest m the affairs of the
household, then they could ofteuer find
the opportunity for leaving the farm for
a short season of recreation and enjoy
ment, and thus be in reality what they
have the name of being, the most inde-
[ pendent class of people in the world.
m
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4
V
MUMr - ern-