The Fairfield news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1881-1900, August 13, 1884, Image 1
WINNSBORO, S. C., WEDNESDAY, kWrVST 13, 1884. ' m
1
A Sea Song.
Hurrah for the ses, where the chowders be, |
And the 6culpin grinds his horn!
Where the star-flsh shine through the spumy
brine,
And the mammoth oysters yawnt
For the barnicie blows and the conger crows
As we chase the prickled prawn.
Then roll out of tfie.Captain's gig, my lads, i
Let th? bobstay harness be!
With tfie breeze abaft, and fore, and aft
We'll drive o'er the wind-whipped sea.
, Hearthe boVn shout: "Let the port iatch
rout I
Haul tne affidavits taut!
Like snowy crowds spread the white, white
shrouds _ _ I
Where the dead night's gleam is caughtr
Belay the keel till the compass heel
j And the water-line runsshortf" /
The main sheet fills with the mad monsoon,
We have farled the fore-crosstree.
And BOtijrhtJy laced the vessel's waist;
As'we skim o'er the creamy sea.
The sea-gulls shriek from the for'ard peak.
As the shrimps go prancing by,
I And the mermaids kiss the whistling buoy,
Wfciie&ih?i?rehin pipes his?ye: ?
Ibedoc-Ss,h bark at the tipsy shark, .
And HJAcagibct join tip cry,
Then cheer, mates, cheer, as the good ship
speeds, . ^ *
__Till we make the hawser gee?
for tQO Tins Jn me saie oiows a
And we plow tii,e furrowed sea.
> .
Ho, binnacle, fly from the capstain hig-h!
Make the niizzen scupper fast!
By the lanyard's Jiglit through the nasty
nlghtf r - ^
We will scud before the mast; J - ; r
For the breeze is a-lee and the rover is free.
And a schooner of beer has passed.
Hurra for the ship! Hurra for the crew!
Merry, merry boys are we?
And our course is pressed for the glowing
west
As we rise on the yeasty sea.
HATTIE*S HATRED.
"I never look ridiculous," cried Mattie
^all, "but some one appears to
whpml'ip particularly anxious to look
my best" There I was?sleeves rolled
up to my elbows, hair in -anything but j
graceful disorder, washing the parlor i
,J windows, and sinking as loudly as my
lungs would admit, when who should i
walk in, 'sans ceremonie,' but Frank
Wright I haven't seen him in four
years, not since I was 14, and he was
just disagreeable enough to compliment
me on my improved looks, glance
maliciously at my rumpled locks and
wet gown, while 1 stood looking just
about as large as your little finger.
Don't I hate him?"
"Undoubtedly you do," I replied,
leisurely taking off my gloves. "Mr.
at our ijease a short
time a^>??eaneationed b^agliei,e."f ?
"Mejftiofcejjf being here!"- Hattie re-'
oeate? . "Did he give : you a graphic^
"I have no idea of mmistenng to
your vanity, my dear," I replied; "but
I really regret that you are ashamed of
VoTrinn, Vuion enmrisfid in useful em
f UAIiMg WVM
ployment. Why/1 fancied you rather
proud of jour housekeeping qualities."
"Housekeeping "qualities^ indeed!"
exclaimed Hattie in a vexed tone. ^ "A
good housekeeper never neglects her
own person."
"But, Hattie," I urged, "one cannot
expect to find one's friends en grande
toilette while engaged in washing windows."
' v. "But my nair was in such shameful
gjfc; ' tiisorder. < *
^rr' "You are looking your very best now,
.'T*- Hattie," I remarked, "whatever your
forenoon appearance may have been."
* -Oh, yes!' she replied "As Uncle
John says?after the horse was stolen
? - "? * ? * in
' i iocsea xae Darn:
"Well," said I, "play me something
by way of forgetting your unfortunate
1 rencontre."
Hattie played exquisitively. She
was just dashing off one of my favorites
when Frank Wright came in. Hat*
tie nodded, and demanded petulantly
whether he was as charmed with her
playing as he had been with her sing"More
so," Mr. Wright had the candor
to reply.
"Ah! then I' dare say you do- not
r consider me the sweetest singer in the
world?" she,questioned.
Mr. Wrisht was positive, on reflec
Con. that he had listened to as good
| vocal efforts as he .had heard that
morning. After lingering as long as
propriety .jfould admit of, Frank withI
drew. * '*
I "What a conceited puppy!" Hattie
exclaimed as soon as he had gone.
"How nngenerons you are," said I;
"you know you are thinking now,
away down in your heart, how much
tact and cleverness he displayod in
warding off the shafts of your ridicule
without turning the points against
? Y~> ?? i ? 1? Ktt
yourseu. jdcsiues, uc wuaiucicu uy
wiser heads than ours a young lawyer
of great promise. 1 heard father say
yesterday that he never listened to a
more able and touching appeal, than
f his plea in the Austin and Wilkin's suit;
and he gained the cause, too. So the
widow and orphans are not shelterless!"
**Xhat was nothing," Hattie maintained.
"If he had been employed on
the other side it would have been the
same thing."
"But he refused a retaining fee on
rthe other side, and volunteered his ser- j
vices to the poor widow."
Bnt Hattie would not believe it. i
Frank, had been so unfortunate as to
surprise-her in questionable dishabille,
, and she could not forgive. "She "ver
"did like him when she was a little
girl," she said. He was infinitely more
disagreeable now."
"Then why were you so particularly
> anxious to appear your best before
him?"
f <4Oh! he mentioned me in his letters
to Ellen, and Ellen had writen back all
sorts of nonsense about what she called
my beauty. Do you think I wished
to be canvassed by a pair of malicious
eyes, and read in. their ill-concealed
expression: This is not quite the
tg Hattie that 1 expected to see?' Not!
L" ' } {i\ : .
t:? ?a I
W -iilUO yiwocu* rj ouul .
Hattie Hall were friends.
jfc Frank's equanimity was never dis*
RkA turbed by Hattie's pretty sparring; intSBfljSMp
deed, be seemed rather to enjoy it
This only incensed her the more. "It
[ was," she said, "as if she were not
/ worth minding."
w "Hattie," said L as she sauntered
L into my sitting-room one day, with her j
apron full of flowers, and her hat
swinging by one ribbon over her shoul- j
n der, "Frank Wright must be contem- j
niafa'nor matrimony. Husband says the I
rnevr nouse in progress at the other end
of the street is his. I wonder who the
rbride-eleefc can "be? Clara Perkins, do
you suppose?"
*'I am sure I do not know,"she re- :
plied. "Of one. thing I am positive,;
however; I shall not envy . his wife
neither her hew house nor her hus- i
I* band. You know that I can't l?ear
L< Frank Wright"
I had been telegraphing ever since i
I she commenced, but she either could
not or would not understand my signs,
? nor did she manifest any embarrassment
when on turning around she saw
_ the object of her spleen standing in
the open, door, a yery perceptible smile
C .
rwwSSSLfLL. ' v.
wreathing-his features.
"You nave learned nothing new, I
presume, Mr. Wright," she said. "But
i there is a certain adage about eavesdroppers
that f would recommend to
your leisure. Besides when you enter
a room Where people arc talking about
what you ought not to hear, please
cough, clear your throat, or give other
indications of your august presence."
And she saucily tossed her head."
i "Mtr Spar Mi<?s Hall." said Frank.
advancing toward her, "I shall certainly
strive to profit by your counsel;
neither shall I regret having heard
vour expressed dislike of myself, since
t trust it may teach me how I may render
myself less repulsire, to you. For,
believe me," he added, intones intended
for her ear only, "I cannot tell you
how much I regret this singular abhorrence
you have ever manifested. Can
you not point out some method by
which I may yet hope to stand better
in your regard?"
I did not hear the reply as I was
stnxnnoned; to the kitchen' at that moment
But I have just foundations for
believing that she did point out a way
by which herlesteem might be won; for
not long ago I saw her and Frank
standing close proximity, while a
venerable looking man propounded
certain momentous questions which
Frank answered frankly and distinctly,
and Hattie's replies, though low, were
quite satisfactory.
The Mule and the Bull.
I rode once with some cattlerbuyers
through the stock ranges of Nevada.
My pony?it was called Bob?drifted
into Nevada Utah, and was known as a
buffalo hunter. Bob was as mean
looking as a sheared sheep, and as bullet-headed
as a political opponent.
.However,. Bob and I got along very
I well the ff est day ".of our acquaintance;
I got along, in fact, about fifty Nevada
[miles, which lhave carefully estimated
I to be equal to sirty-five Christian
' miles. The next day Bob was tired, or
cross, or bored. He regarded the
, cTftstAQ of siKTe-brush disdainfullv.
while I threaded my whip upon him,
and'luuched off the sage-brush while I
wore out my spurs on his shaggy sides.
Theu I led him a few miles, and he regarded
me in big-eyed meditation.
When I remounted, which I did only
when my shoes were worn out, Bob aprjared
so broken up that I felt sorry,
determined to go no further that day
than the ranch-house we were ap " feoadking^for
I di^-;no!r?want Bob's
life charged lo my cruelty. n; Just before
redctbod the house : a herd of
cattle i^achifcL us. A blgbuU, the biggest
and wildest j remember ever.-to
selected -Bobjand mo for a
target
Considering Bob's condition, I was
about to dismount, and take my chances
afoot, when Bob started. I believe
he thought he was entered for the Derby.
Youjaever saw suoli a rate of
speed attained by such a remarkable
gait. Bob would alternately roll himself
up in a ball, and stretoh out to
three times his normal length; his head
would get out of sight into his shoulders,
and then ^ot out of sight in the
distance. Suddenly Bob stopped?
very suddenly?so suddenly that it un- j
seated my dignity and- pose. Looking
about I discovered the cause to be that
the bull had stopped. Just as suddenly
the bull began charging the other
way, and Bob?that fool a Bob?
be^an charging after the oull. If the
bull had been a peck of oats Bob could
not have displayed moro earnestness
in thft chose. . *
Between my anxiety lest Bob should
catch the bull, and not knowing what
to do with it* and mj uncertainty as to
my seal, I was verry unhappy. Bob,
howeverer, appeared to be having a
real good time. The chase was kept
up for miles, and Until the bull suddenly
stopped short and swung his big
horned head around at Bob and me as
we came along. Both dodged beautifully,
and then the bull chased us
awhile. That thing was kept up for
hours. If the bull wouldn't chase us
Bob would chase th6 ball; it was all
the same to him?just as much fun for
one as another. I reckon we chased
each other?Bob and the bull and I?
about fifty miles, when we happened
upon a little oasis and Bob and the bull
began browsing the unexpected grass
together in the most friendly manner.
I excused myself and walked back to
the ranch.?San Francisno CalL '
Taking Care of Dresses.
There is an old proverb which says
a lady is always known by her boots
and gloves. Quite as crucial a test is
the faculty of taking good care of her
costnmes, and one that" quite as distinctly
marks the well hred lady. Any
one can buy an elegant wardrobe if
she have money enough, but to take
the requisite care to keep it fresh and
dainty requires something more than a
check book. Of keeping nice dresses,
a lady writes: "Each dress should have
'*" +s\ t-Drtn if*, frnm
iW) U?U *V JkiW VI W1 WV uvvAW VMa
chaffing or fading. Take fine, firm
cotton cloth, something over a yard
wide, cut it into squares, then hem and
wash the squares. They should be
fine, take no room, and wei^h little;
firm, to keep away from dust;hemmed,
that you may keep the same side next
the silk, and washed, to do away with
the bleaching chemicals, which are liable
to change the color of the silkFold
the bottom of the train back and
forth, in about eighteen oj twenty inch
folds so as to fit the box you have for
it. The bottom being all together, you
-J~ -* *- ? A* +ATW_
will cover it wim ? &uia.u. wuw wi ^ ?el
to keep the dusty train from rubbing
against the cleaner parts of the robe;
roil the whole dresS loosely to the size
and shape of the box it is to go in, lay
it upon a white cloth and fold the corners
of the same over the top of- the
package and place in the box. Now
loosen the-roli and adjust it to its space
so as to favor any delicate or easily
crushed portion of the dress?as Medici
collars, flower garniture, embroidery,
eta?relieving crowded places, and
distributing the thick to the thin spots.
When you come to use the robe shake
it out and you will find it in good condition.
The fold of dress or shawl will
often work up between the trays of
boxes and by motion of cars, wagons,
etc.*, get chafed into holes. To avoid
tins, pin the cloth over so it cannot ]ut
over the box. To pack laces, fold them
in blue tissue paper or soft linen, because
white tissue paper contains
bleaching acid and discolors and decays
the ribbons or lace. The same is
true of white shoes and gloves, and especially
of silver ornaments. The latter,
though, worn every evening, keep
their punty and brilliancy for months
if kept closely in bluo tissue paper.
Shoes and slippers should never be:
folded together without a cloth or pa-!
per between them, as the sole of one j
soils the upper of the other. Put one'
in cloth, turn it over and then add tne
other.
A Zulu belle is Hke the proverbial
prophet?she has not much on 'er in
aej'jp^racountiy.
Story By a Forty-Xincr.
; "I tell you what, sir"?it was an old
forty-niner who spoke, as he sat with
! his feet on the top of the hotel stove?
J "there ain't no life on Goti's earth as
; comes up to minin'; leastwise no life
: that I've struck, and I've tried a good
i many things, too. A man don't make
; money at it, not one in 500; rather they
get plenty, but they gamble it away in
i camps as* fast as they get it, so't when
. r? tmnrMriftforoc] rmt. tllPTA "nrnhflWv
? O ??- J
ain't three men outside the bunko men
! and saloon-keepers as have got a dollar
! in their pockets.
"But it's the fascination of it Lor'
J man, when you've struck it pretty
1 rich and can see yer gold right in front
j of you; when you're piling it up every
i half hour o' the day, with a nugget now
j and again as big as a bullet to cheer
1 you, and then when the evenin' comes
| and you count it up and find a hun!
dred odd dollars just picked out o' the
| earth that day?well, there ain't noth!
in' like it Then when you don't strike
{it rich you always think you're goin' to
next day, and it's just as exciting
j hearin' other men teli in the eveniir
; what they pulled out as it is countin'
; over your own. Why, I've been three
| and four months at a time without
making a dollar and without a cent in
my pocket; but, Geewhittaker! the excitement
of it don't give a gaan twice
to think how hard up lie is.
"But there are times when a man
don't know how to kick himself hard
enough; you bet he don't It was
down on the Stanislaus once, I was
monkeying round witii a para?j-<ong
Gus we culled him?an' I picked up a
clod to throw at him, just a lump of
earth that was lyin' handy. Well, it
just went to one side o' Long Gus, and
he sorter reached out his hand to catch
it, an' it all broke in pieces leavin'
some in his . hand. I expected hls'd
throw it back at me; but he didn't. He
just tossed it over in his hand careless
like, and then said we'd had enough
foolin'. So we walked on again. Next
mornin' Gus didn't say a word to me,
but he just went off with his outfit to
the place where I'd thrown that clod at
j him. an' took $250 out the first day.
An' I don't know how many thousands
he took out before he'd done with that
claim. As the clod broke in his hand
it laid bare a small nugget, maybe as
larcre as a nea?he showed it to me
afterward?an' he said it startled him
so he very nigh called out an' gave
hisself away, as nobody supposed tnere;
| was any gold left just there. It was:
all thought to be worked out, but the
darned fools had <*one right by the
richest part of it. I wish he had called
out, I know, but you bet X never felt
more like kicking myself into the
river'n I did then. Why, if I'd only
turned the cussed thing over, or broken
it in two?it was a sight too large to
throw at once, as I thought when I
threw it, but !
"But thero was another time when I
felt like hurting myself, too?hurting
myscif right bad?and so did all the
j other boys, I can tell you. Thgre were
[ some two hundred of us in it, sir. An'
we were all fools. It was one Fourth
of July, down to Moseiumne, an' we
wanted to do su'thin' to celebrate, an'
we were-pretty badly' fixed for what to
do. Well, after ratio-' round a bit we
settled on an old tree?one o' these
sugar pines. The gold, ye know, nsed
to lie all along the bottom of the
gulches?or so we used to think?and
nobody ever thought of going up the
hillside to look for it, but just kep' on
working along the gulches. An this
sugar pine was" some three hundred
feet up the hillside, right away from
where the gold was. It was a fine
tree, as straight as whisky for 100 feet
or more without a bough or a leaf on
it, and then the boughs began all of a
sudden. It stood out there all by itself
like, an' wc settled we'd blow it up. So
we gets a twenty-five pound keg o'
blastin' powder and hauled it up the I
hill, an' set to work to dig a hole under
the tree. We got as far under as we!
1 J t il.. 4.1 ]
COUJ.LL iOI" tliU auu cucu Obun bu
the keg away, an1 just heaved rocks
and earth oato it and beat it down
hard. Then we lit the fuse and<
scrambled away as fast as.we could.
Well, you just believe it we scattered
those rocks'some. Gee! but we had to
look out for our heads, and the earth
went all around the pisce. But it
didn't blow the old tree up; not worth
a cent It just stood there as if nothing
had happened, 'cept that the trunk
was split open some twenty feet or so.
However, we all cheered and hollered,
an' felt we'd done suthin' to celebrate,
and then we went back and 'rahed j
around the camp.
'That, as I've said, was on the 4th
of July. Along to the end of September,
it might be, it rained?rained
quite a sight that year. too. "Well,
after it'd been rainin'a bit'a man
called Harris?Jim Harris, as good for
nothin' a chap as you ever see, who
couldn't work or do" anythin', an' had
never washed out a dolhir honestly in
his life?chanced to come over lhat hill
on his way to camp, au passed right
by this 'ere pine a*s we tried to blow,
up. None of us had never been up to
the durned tree again, but s'elp me
Johnny Rogers! if thai rain hadn't
gone an' washed all the earth as the
powder'd kicked up, an' this fellar
Harris just picked up $60 as he stood
there! That provorl one of the richest
leads'in the whole -Mokelumne, an1
here had we been washing away in
rrnl^fipc nn' savin' there warn't no
t) ? ?J? ?
gold up- the hillside. Warn't there!
This feller Harris got rich. out o' that,
'cos he never spent no money like the
rest of us; an' was about the only man
as did get rich, I guess. I didn't, I
know. Bui I tell you there wasn't one
of us 200 a3 wouldn't have taken it
kindly if some one 'ad kicked him well
when we first heard o' what we'd
done."?N. T. Tribune.
^ I
Farm notes: Rest and freedom from
annoyance are essential to animals that
nrA Hp in or fattaned for market. Far
mers should never allude to family
cares while feeding tho pigs. Nice
fresh eggs, to be offered in next Winter's
market, ought to be iimed now.
The word "fresh" written in lead pencil
on the shell will readily distinguish
them from the previous season's. A
bookkeeper says that, by feeding nitrogenous
food, the queen can be induced i
to lay at any time. If there is any kind j
of food that will induce quiescence in j
the business members of the hive, we j
shall be glad to publish it.
A gentleman visited the house o'
Eenry Ward Beecher and was surprised
at the smell of tobacco smoke in tb<library.
Turning to Mr.' Beecher h<
csked him if he smoked. The replv
was: "No, but my sons do. I canno:
"rirofrtn A 'I
,uu iu u.v*rii tucsc auiiiu yltcs. J ]
once tried to, I believe." "Oh, yes/ j
said one of his sons; "the only thrash- j
ing he ever gave was for smoking ?
cigar. But when the War broke out and j
I went to the front the first present 11
received from homo was a bos of cigars j
sent to mc by my father."
The Society Novel.
j During the last few years the line, '
' "A new society novel, by ."coupled 1
j with eulogistic adjectives of various :
degrees of intensity, has appeared with j
' remarkable frequency in the advertise- |
ments of book publishers, until, at last, j
| the conclusion is forced upon one that !
i this style of fiction almost monopolizes j
the talents of our story-writers. Per- |
haps, however, "story-'frriters" does :
not accurately describe those who load ;
the shelves of circulating libraries with I
this sort of reading matter. For, as a !
general rule, the books which the
American school of novelists produces
?onnrtt Ko olacaeri fts fftrvrif>S. TheV
' are rather photographs of different i
j phases of social life. Of plot there is j
little or none. The writer does not j
exert himself in JieiQ3St:jD' create an i
element of;snspense as to? the.- probable
fate of hisj&gro or Jjgroiuft. He'ignores
incidentsi'as^firt&hch^CKteters.^seldoinrSp
-anything that
has-'any bearing.on Redevelopment of :
the sfeetcfc The^ cirtastr^he, such as
it is, excites orrly-fSS^Qid interest, !
unless fhe.raRffibr, impelled; 'by a !
; desire to, appear" "original,%>.discards
; the "good old^metHod Ringing his;
: young ig,en and"jnaSdeas. safely., out of j
their troubles, and, .instead; gives ns a
conclusionthat;.^P^^.^^ppolfttjng, j
iratatEftT" f-f : -*t,ie ,? - :.|
The p^ea that.is urged ra defense of i
the ^cioty'npydljaiiff"iitody I
is that tbe age is one cf introspection,
i that; the critical' spirif'^^^oad; and I
tha't the analy^s. of "character "is the i
true reflection of that-spirit, that men.
are more concerned ^rith motives' than'
with deeds, and that the worid has
outgrown the novel -of;mcident,' advSn?
I ture, action.' And Tvhata change has
I been brought about!. Instead of listen-|
ing. (with how muckpleasnre!) to the j
! sons-sand-iokes that,- wittr *piprcsi and-;
| brandy-and-.water. iinafe; Hie": night j
mferry in the Care-of Harmony, we sip, J
our champagne and tape philosophy or i
stocks at Delmonico's. Dora's tribula- !
tions are old-fashioned; we are interest- ;
ed.now in Miss Rosebuds flirtation at;
Newport Who Car^'whether or' not j
Bois'GmltaT.t's .adyances" ajcp .^rejected. j
by ISgbgcca?-:.*W"?ero-<jfc^day. is j
not a Srnfel' Sasten to him. as he urges
his " sulC "Is fie'ndf refined^ as liefits
the temper of the tiniest And is not
Jacob Harvard, playing tenuis or lead?
j ing ager'man, a much more agreeable
j book-con^anion than Pendennis, mak*
j ing love to Fanny Bolton at Vauxhall?
: Alas, that wo should have fallen upon
| evil days when cleverness, refinement,
| over-elaboration and cynicism take the
I place of the strong, simple, direct,
I r?n?li'fiaa thof will t.Via I
U.I ilLLLt>UXV . l^UUriiViuo VUUV ?? AA4 MW^> VMW
novels of Scott, Thackeray and Dickens
alive scores of years after the social
studies of the present day are buried
in oblivion.
The allurements that this field of
ficton offer to the clever writer of a
metaphysical or descriptive turn of
mind are many and well nigh irresistible.
But if the society novelists increase
in numbers in the next ten years
as they have in the last decade, they /
may echo the cry of the shrewd bufc f
illiterate Hebrew who, commenting j
the other day of the depression in the j
I liLJ ^WUO blOrUVy OUiUUirtliiAAA- WA1V ?*? *? - I
tion with the words: "The product
tionists produce too much, the con-!
sumptionists don't take it, and financial
matters is in a bad way." Too much
of this style of fiction will inevitably
bring about a reaction in favor of 1
something more nearly akin to the 1
novels of the old schooL Yet there
will always exist a demand for the :
well-written society novel that shall be 1
a faithful reflex of life in circles from 1
which the great bulk of the people are 1
excluded. For the country girl who
longs every Summer to go to Newport
to see for ber self the polo matches,
the lawn parties, the drags and what 1
not?the things, in a word, that engage
the attention of * society," as she ;
| understands it?a novel describing J
! these affairs of moment has to serve
as a substitute. And the prevalence of
this curiosity to know how those who
are "in society",look, talk, dress-and
behave is recognized by our younger
writers, the more accurate they are in i
aetau tno more vaiuDie tney are supposed
to be. " ' i
But what is their real worth? How
arc they to stand the test of time? ;
Will they Se found side by side with ;
Pepys' Diary two hundred years hence, j
and will they be referred to as of the j
highest value of their pictures of mea <
and manners as they existed just after j
the Civil War? Wo can see the j
historian, antiquary or critic of the
future as he stumbles upon a dozen or "
=io of these American. society novels i
and pores eagerly over the mildewed. <
?The. Hour.
Hard Glove Fight Between Sparrows, j
Beneath a sign, over the door of one \)
Of the busiest establishments in.Lewis-! 3
tnn. a. recess in the wall has formed * 3
one of the snuggest retreats for a bird J'
or beast imaginable. As winter storms
beat down the recess in the wall has
been secure in its protection. The
rains trouble not its quiet, and the sun
can look in in springtime. A score or
more of nests ^" birds have been built
there. A progeny of English sparrows
has, after uncounted struggles with the
original dwellers, won the lands by
right of conquest, and now inhabit its
disputed domain. Over the sign open
the windows of an office. One sits by
the open windows and sees all the
domgs of the entire family of birds.
Their battle of conqucst was lately
fought. Hastings bloody field was
partially re-enacted. It was about 10 1
o'clock. A sparrow or two were loaf- (
ing around the house, when a doze? or |
more intruders settled down on the i
iron rods of tho awnings and signs,
and began to make trouble. They
were running things when re-enforcements
of tne home birds began to.arrive.
The aggressive, thick-headed
English sparrows plumed his feathers,
and all the sickening details of war followed.
The uproar called the spectators
to the window. Tho home-birds
fought off tho intruders. Thoy flew
down in increased numbers, and the i
invaders fled. Two birds in the thick- j
est of the fight flew up and down, and :
up and down again. A gentleman on ;
the walk below held out his hands, and j
the birds settled in his outstretched
palms end fought still. After the intruders
had been routed there were ex- i
pressions of joy in the nest. The En- :
o-lish sDarrow is nothing if not a fiffht
er.?Lewistown Journal. ?
A Brooklyn man who hit wheat for a
few thousand dollars last week, rushed (
around and rented a brown-stone front,
and then sought the services of a' fur- j
niture mover. "I'll take it by the job J
and do the fair thing by you," replied
the mover. "Well, how'fair?" "I'll 1
say fifty dollars for the two." "What
two?" "Why the moving this week <
into the brown stone, and the moving <
in about a month, from that into a ,
cheap frame house in suburbs? I al- ^
ways job the two moves together in the
case of a grain speculator!'*
!' * Is Iiife Growing tfongfe*?
To be told that under proper condition
we ought to. live one hundred
years, and that the discouraging doctrine
of the influence,.of, heredity in
shortening life ? pn^ true in a limited
sense, is interesting to most people.
Soy also, is the circumstance that we
cfe living longer than we used to live,
and the assurance that much may be
done yet to prolong our Eves. These
and analogous topics were given in a
recent lecture1 bv Dr. John Foster; of
Bradford, England, read at the .February
meeting .of the Medico-Ghirugical
society: '^Thji late Dr. Fair in. his description
of the march,through life of a
m"5Hbh children, Has given the following
results: Nearly io0,006" will die in
the first year)- 52,000 in the second year,
28;000 in the. third year, and less than
4,j30QjnjieV.'^ year. At the
enS o'f forty-fivu years '500,000, or onehatf,
will have died. At the beginning
ofrilxty years 370,000 will still be living;
at-^.^.b iginning ot eighty years, 90,at
eighty-five years 33,000; at ninety-five
years, 2,100. At the beginning
of . 100 years there will be 223, and
atl08 years L The mean lifetime of
both sexes in England was calculated
SQ&e years ago at 40.858, nearly or 41
yesrs. Mr. H.' Humphreys has shown,
however, that in the five years, 1876 to
1880, the mean ago at death was 43.56
(females 45.3), being a gain of nearly
z&yesrs. This within twenty years,
notwithstanding an increased birth
rafo density of population, and the unsanitary
condition of towns suddenly
gRJwn lar^e, more than 2J years have
Been added to the iife of every-inhabitant
nf TT!nor1<*nr?
'The Spectator asks:. 'What is the
?ind of life which is increasing? Are
we young longer, or mature longer, or
oil longer? Bo we live longer, or are
w&only a little slower in dying?' I
abound to admit that some of the gain
infl&rly life is lost in middle life; that;
v;h& the ea^pectation of life at birth is
25 &r more, tho expectation from 35 to
50 is a fraction less. But notwithstanding
the slight increase of mortality at
S5 and upward, a large portion of the
additional survivors live on to the higher
ages! Of 1,000 born, the additional
number of survivors is 35 at the ago of
?26 at 55, 9 at $5, 3 at 75, and 1 at
'The increase is ffiuch greater
ong females. By far the greater
portion of the increased duration of
tinman life in England is lived between
2Q and 60." It is interesting to ascertain
what is the natural limit of existence.
Dr. Fan* says the natural lifetime
of a man is a century. That is '
the time the body will live under the
most favorable conditions^ Another
most interesting question's: "When
does old ao^e commence?" Dr. Farr
divided life as follows; Boyhood, 10 to
15 year?.; youth 15 to 25; manhood, 25
to 55; maturity, 55 to ?5; ripeness, 75
to 85, and old age 85 aid upward.
In. taking the period-of- 05 to 75, and
still following the fortunes of the million
clfildren Born, we find that 809,029
enter ^s . age and 161,124 leave it
alive. wseasGs of the brain, lungs and
heart arsfcQip most common; 81,400 died
of old age. ' The number.that enter the
nextjiecennfsl?Z5 to 35?-are 161,124,
and^ne^umber"thafteaves it alive is
88^565. Afcout 122,500-die chieflv of
lung^heaft, brain and other local diseases.
Nearly 50,000 die of atrophy, I
debility, and old age. Some writer J
Bays he has met few or no cases of J
death from old age, everybody dying 1
of some recognized disease. It is true 3
that symptoms of disease are obscured 1
in old age, many cases of pneumonia 1
and other inflammations escaping rec- 1
ognition. But it is also true that many 1
deaths attributed to disease are mainly <
due to old age; slight in juries,, cold, <
heat, want, or attacks which in" early 1
pears would have been shaken o? Of i
the million with which we started, <
9 1<IR live to thp. ntrfl of 95?223 to TOO. I
r>~ "" ?
Finally, at-the aged 108, one solitary *
life dies.?New York Sun. t
1
A Remarkable Story,
An incident directly connected with
the late rebellion has just come to light
here, says a Dayton special to the
Cleveland Leader. Twenty years ago, I
when Judah P. Benjamin, impoverish- 3
ed by the war, was about leaving the <
then conquered rebel states to seek a t
home in England, a wealthy personal f
friend named Reynolds, living in Mis- f
sissippi, loaned him $200,000 without ?
security and without taking a' scratch ^
of a pen. The act was prompted solely
by sympathy for his needy friend, t
5dr. Reynolds knowing that if Mr. Ben- 1
jamin ever becamo able be would repay
the loan, and if not the money
would afford the relief he desired to
yive him.
For fifteen years past Mr. Reynolds
tias been a resident of Huffman Hill,
3ne of the most beautiful suburbs of
Dayton, and is one of the wealthiest
men in this vicinity, and probably has
more ready money _ at his command
;han any other person here. He is engaged
in banking and is largely interjsted
in insurance companies and other
extensive enterprises in this and other
jities. It is" not - known certainly
whether Mr. Benjamin ever repaid Mr.
Eteynolds the debt, but it is altogether
probable, as the money had euaoled
aim to at once establish himself in Lonlon,
as a result of which he secured a
business from which, in the late years
)f his life, ho received an income of
?200,000 per annum. ' It is equally cer;ain,
however, thatUr. Reynolds never ?
broached the subject to him or ever
jave much thought to the matter, cthir
than the satisfaction of having been ^
ible to help his friend in the hour of
iistress. This incident has never be- *
'ore been told to the world, but there F
s little doubt of its truth. 1
^ E
I
A Fierce Battle For Life. j
L
On last Friday a combat between a
ten-foot man-eater shark and a sevenfoot
alligator was witnessed at East
pass, near Pilot cove. "When his sharkship
spied the alligator he went for
him at a lively rate, cleaving the water J
with incredible rapidity. The alligator
stood his jjroxrad, and waited the on- ,
slaught with blinking eyes and open .
mouth. Seeing his antagonist prepared j
for him the wily shark made only a 7
seeming attempt at attack, and rushed ,
by his 'gatorship with inereasd Telocity. .
When a few feet only intervened the J
shark, by a turn known only to the j ?
fish, wheeled with lightning rapidity | ,
and pounced upon his enemy. Quick
as the movement was i-t did not succeed, j
ks the saurian and the fish came j ^
together there was a terrible churning j?
of the phosphorescent waters for a i <3
moment, and then the shark darted off: t;
a few feet, turned once more quickly *
upon its stomach and his ponderous. I ?
jaws closed upon the saurian's middles ! ?
There then was a crushing of bones ! j
and flesh for a second, the water wa3 j ~
dyed with the saurisn's life-blood, and j F
then one-half of the defeated foa was 1 f
seen to disappear down the cavernous j
throat of the shark.? Appalachicola j ?
Tribune. jR
f
r
Shapely "Women.
A staymake'r, asked by a reporter if
he ever thought of studying women's
figures with respect to their nationalities,
delivered himsel? of the following:
" Yes the study is an interesting one. .
English women, when they are young,
have the noblest figure, so far as I have
observed," said the manufacturer, after
a pause, "but'they get corpulent, and
dowager-like - after marriage, much
sooner than American women, after
which they may. be said to hare no
figure at- alL English. - women, as a
rule, are less ashamed of their figures.
when stout; t' most other fashion- !
ables. ahd sclaom resort to tight lac- j
ing. iV,Lrs. Lapgtry is ? snperbly shaped j
woman, say what they will, and is a
fine specimen of English women in
feneral, though ! believe- she is only
alf English, after all. Among fashionables
the French ladies are apt to
spare the scrawniness, but they'have,
a natural talent for . making up and
concealing their defects 'hat it is hard j
to judge <5 them. There are some pret- j
tv figures among the Cuban and other
West Indian women, but they are
short, ago rapidly, and soon grow
dumpy; yet such as have been French
maids manage to make up welL Refined
German and Irish ladies have fine
figures on an average. So do the
Italian ladies. The few Holland and
Belgium ladies I have seon, are rotund
and essentially built. Thebest shaped
woman, in every resnect, who comes
into this store, is a Hungarian, wife of j
a musician in one of our theater or* !
chestras. Her waist, bust, and shoulders
are. like sculpture. She is tall,
willowy, and statuesque, and her walk
is the melody of motion. She doesn't
walk at all, in the ordinary sense, but
floats over the ground. Her natural
waist measure is twenty-eteht, and she
does not lace down an inch below it.
However. English figures averasre
best," ' '
"You have not said anything about
the American ladies," said the reporter.
"I reserved them for the last, for, as
a nationality, there is most to be said
against them. American 'fashionable
women, though inclined to fragility, as
a rule, have naturally excellent figures,
but there are no other women who so
persistently deform and destroy what'
nature has given them, through tight
lacing and general slavish obedienc to
the absurdest freak of fashion. American
women are the most unconscionable
lacers in the world. But, everything
said and seen, the British feminine
figures are the best models."
.The Marriage of a Poetess.
me marriage or miss .bua wneeier
has given the witlings something to
write about, and we may expect to see
a good deal of coarse humor printed
about an event which#'it seems to us
should be treated with that delicacy
with which respectable people are in a
habit of discussing affairs to which a
lady is a party. The fact that Miss
Wheeler is the author of considerable
lurid poetry affords no excuse for the
indecent ridicule to which she has been
subjected, and whic&vhas broken out
afresh, since the announcement *of her
marriage to Mr. Wilcox, a very estimable
young gentleman from New En- '
dand. It is quite likely that some who 1
txave basely misconstrued the senti
ment of Miss Wheeler's verse imagine <
that she is devoid of that refinement,pu- 1
rity and delicacy of feeling which con
stitute the highest beauty 01 intellectual 3
womanhood ;these persons are grievous- J
rrofforilt "NTi-ino Vmfc ft wftman rvf sp- 1
rerest purity and delicacy of feeling ]
jould write such poems as Miss Wheel- i
?r has given us; none else would dare 3
?do so. We regret the rude jests i
which are emitted at this gentle lady's i
jxpense, but we feel that she is too far ]
ibovethem to be pestered by their
itings or to suffer their evil odors to in- j
.errupt the flow of her vivid but grace- 5
ul rouse.?Chicago News. j
1
Bergh's Sympathy for the Male.
Mark Twain tells this story of Mr. ,
Jergh: A lady was talking with Mr.
Jergh one day and chanced to speak ]
>f a friend of hers who had lately been i
raveling out west. In crossing the J
rontier it became necessary.that the
ather, mother, and three children J
ihould cross a somewhat swollen ford. ,
[heir only beast of burdea was a mule. ;
^ 1 j a. <
so me iamer piaceu lwu uj. tuc ujxu.- ,
Iren on its bac? then plunged in and .
ed the beast with him. It swam obedi- :
sntly behind him, and all reached the ;
>ther shoro in safety. At the man's
ridding the intelligent mule returned
o where the mother and child were '
vaiting to Cross. The mother, fearing '
o put too heavy a burden on the al eady
tired animal, put only the child
lpon its back, bade him hold fast, aad,
vith. a prayer, led the animal to the
water's edge. They plunged in, swam
>ravely for a time, and then were seen j
;o struggle and go down.
4 "Oh, think, Mr. Bergh," said the exsited
and pitying lady, ,4just think
vhat must have been tho feelings of
hat mother as she saw her darling
;hild lost in the depths of that black
vater?" '
"True; oh, too true,1* sighed Mr. {
3ergb. "But did jou ever thini my, .
lear lady, what must have been the
'eelings of the mule?"?Boston Letter.
]?' ?
lamucl Sbin Removed. from Office*
i
"De man who minds his own bizness
las got all de work dat should be cut
nt for one pusson- Dc man whose
ingers itch to pick up articles he hasn't
>aid for will sooner or later make a
oistake and burn his fingers. It am
luffin to me who gets drunk nor who
:eeps sober, so long as neither one
lamages me. I doan' kecr a straw to
:now how de neighbor on my left libs
ridout work or position, an' it am none 1
f my bizness how de one on my right
pends de $10 he airns eacii weeic.
"Gem'len, Samuel JShin was Opiated
anitor of dis hall under de ijnpreshun '
[at he was strictly honest. ^ It has bin
onclusiveiy proved dat he * am air embezzler.
Had he taken all our money
t would have bin in order to call him
harp an, keen an' be satisfied to git
talf of it back an' let nim go free. As
.e sum total am only a few shillings
stice yells for vengeance. Samuel
iwns a" mule. Befo lavin' dis place
o-night he must gin us a bill 6f saie of
[e animal. We must have a chattle
Mortgage on his cook stove. If he has
ny wages due him we must serve a
garnishee. Dar' must be no let up, no
in worthy feelins of mercy. Samuel |
Ihin am deposed from his position as
anitor, an' de tranquil Cadaver Blosoms
am 'pinted to fill out de onexlired
remainder of de term. Judge
/ahoots, Kyann Johnson, and Porus |
)avis am nominated a committee to j
Jnnrf tr% ! 1
uuiuve ue uuuy uu. a ? .
iome on Grove street, 3a de reg'Isr
lizness dat has called us together tojght
will now purceed to begin."?Jkroit
Free, Press.
i
The Moon Inhabited.
At the astronomical observatory of
Berlin, says a translation from Nya
Pressen Helsingfor, a discovery has
lately been made, which, without
doubt, will cause the greatest sensation
not only among the adepts in science,
but even among the most learned.
Professor Blendmann, in that city, has
found, beyond a doubt, that our old
l friend,1 the moon, is not a mere lantern
r whitih -kindly furnishs light for the iovVAnfli
onH srna rtnmr\a niaa
J UUU goo WiUVA V(U I
planet, but the abode of living, intelli-1
gent beings, for which he is prepared ,
to furnish proofs most convincing.
This question has agitated humanity :
from time immemorial, and has been
the object of the greatest interest But
the opinions have always differed very
widely, and no two minds held one ;
and the same. Already in ancient,
times the belief prevailed that the moon !
was inhabited with some higher or- j
ganized, intelligent beings, somewhat;
resembling man, and-in order to-, com- j
municate with them the earthly enthu- ;
siasts planted rows of trees several I
miles in length so as to form the figure !
of the Pythagorean theorem. Thecele- j
brated astronomer Schroder, in the be- j
ginning of the present century, faneied ;
that he could detect places on the sur- j
face of the moon which periodically
grew lighter and darker, and from this
fact he derived the conclusion that the
phenomenon was a proof of existing
vegetation. During the last few de- ;
cades, however, the idea of life on the !
moon has been held np to ridicule, and j
totally scorned by men of learning, j
But, nevertheless, it has now been ,
proved to be correct.
By accident Dr. Blendmann found
that the observations of the moon gave !
but very unsatisfactory' results, owing \
to the intensity of the light power of
the moon's atmosphere, which is that j
strong that it afiects the correctness of
the observations m a very nigh degree.
He then conceived the idea to make
the ofcject-glass of the refractor less
sensitive to the rajs of light, and for
that purpose he darkened it with the
smoke of camphor. ' It took month's of |
experimenting before he succeeded in i
finding his right degree of obscurity of i
the glass, and when finally found* he ;
then with the rcfractor took a very ac- >
curate photo of the moon's surface. tj
This he placed in a sun microscope, j
which gave the picture a diameter or i
55J feet. The revelation was most j
startling. . It perfectly overturned all;
hitherto entertained ideas of the moon's
surface. Those level plains which for- '
merly were hold to be oceans of water
proved to be verdant fields, and wliat
formerly was considered mountains '
turned out as deserts of sand and
oceans of. water, Towns and habitations
of $11 kinds were plainly discern- '
able, as well as sierns of industrv and !
traffic. The learned professor's study ['
and observations of old Luna will bo ;'
repeated every full moon when the sky ;'
Ls clear, and we venture to predict that
the time is noi far off when we shall j
know more about the man in the moon
than as being an agent in English
pontics. [ ^ jl
"Working-Girls in Gotham,
The opening of what is called the
Easter season has given. great activity i1
to the retail trade, says a New York j1
letter, and there has been an increased j
demand for clerks. Many young ]
women from the country have come i
hither seeking this kind of employ- j i
ment This is to be regretted, as there ;;
are alway more of tins cla^s here than j {
the demand requires. To be more ex- ; j
T Trr/vnlrJ cnxr v/mno1 OTATT1P.71 !
are generally paid one-third less than I*
men for the same service. A good j c
saleswoman can earn $6 a week, and in j.
some instances $10. There are afewji
who, being very expert, receive $12, j j
but such instances are rare. A first- 1 \
slass cashier in a large establishment j
is sometimes paid $15, but this requires I j
Spreat ability and experience, and, per- j
Saps, security. There are many wo- !
men book-keepers who, after long j1
practice, earn from $8 to $10 a week, .s
bnt such situations arc not easily ob
tanned. A few of this class earn $12, ic
and there is one case mentioned where j8
a woman of extraordinary ability has;1
$20 a week, but if a man performed .c
these very dnties he would have one- j 1
third more. An inquiry made. at the jc
Christian association brought the reply :c
that $15 per weel; is the highest pay I
any woman can hope for, either as ;1
teacher or book-keeper. The best pay i I
Is earned by a few experienced book- j r
keepers, who are in the service of the
rich families and receive $1,000 a year I g
with board. Some artificial flower ' 1
lasers earn $ioper weea av i,uio suuuu i
of the year, but there are hundreds of: t
well-trained women who would be Had : I
to earn from $8 to $10 per week, while ! t
there aie thousands whose earning are : j
from $3 to $6. The holiday activity, of ? ]
course, helps this class, but there are i
so many ready for an opening that!}
there is no encouragement for country h
folks. ; j
Speaking of women it may be said : j
that New York has more than its share: (
of working-girls. . This results from the;:
vast number of poor people living here, ' <
the number being estimated at a half j 3
million. All the daughters of this por- j,
tion of the community must earn their
living, and in many instances poverty ,
is aggravated by intemperance. The
appearance of these working-girls is!)
very distressing. I see groups of them ;
going in the morning to their places of
employment clad in that homely rai- '
ment which indicates need, and yet an |<
occasional flower will show a little I ]
taste. Their countenances are uncultivated
and generally have a coarse ex- 1
pression, "which one does not find even
in the poorest parts 01 tne country.:
There we see simplicity, but here is j
degradation. Those poor creatures j
toil patiently wherever they may find!
employment, hardly making a bare liv- j
ing, and often going at last to the low-;
est haunts of vice. It is a sad sight
bat must always characterize a great
city.
Mr. Charles O'Conor had a habit at
Nantucket of pacing alone, for an hour j
at a time, up and down the deserted i
wharves of the old town, and, with his j
hands thrust in pockets and his hat!
pulled down on the back of his head, i
he appeared utterly lost in thought.;
During one of these walks a visitor to
the place chanced to wander down the :
wharf, and was drawn into conversa- <
tion by the celebrated lawyer. Mr. j
O'Conor spoke of his attachment to the:
island on account of the wonderful]
tonic efltet of the air upon him and his j
decision to make the place his home, j
During the conversation the suggestion'
was maue uiai? il vvm snaiigc uc ?y<*a,
not lonely in so quiet a place after such;
a busy life in this city. Mr. 0' Conor
quickly replied: 'I do not despise society,
but I could be happy on the
island of Juan Fernandez?even .without
the man Friday."
New York City contains more than !
iOO buildings above 80 feet high.
/ " .
WIT AffP HUMOB.
| 0h? what is the row in Wall street about,
] And why do men act as If there's a. rout?
J As if every broker's a skipper?
i Tls simply bccsuse some fatuous fools
Have tried to scoop water out of the pools
With a sieve instead of a dipper.
I ?New York Journal.
Always laugh, at your own jokes. "If
j you want anything done well, do it ; -!
i yourself."
All red-headed girls are not from the
[ west, but they all nave a "color, reddy
I stvle about them.
Der reason vhy dhere vas so many
big fools in der world, vas because
eferybody dinks he vas a Solomon.
A doctor writes, asking the renewal
of a bill and says, "We are in a horrible
crisis; there is not a sick man in
the district"
- Lives of great men aH remind us'that
we have got to watch out very careful- -l
lv if we expect to leave any respect-,
able foot-prints. ~ -*=???
Never trust with a secret a married
man who loves his wife, for he will tell ' her,
and she will tellher sisteiv&nd her "
sister wfll.teH everybody. <^^58
"Did Mr. Yeast ever strike you as be- - 7
ing a man of great force?" said a companion
to youn^ Crimsonbeak, the
other day at the drib.
A municipal candidate whose principal
supporters are tavern-keepers
AM/] oT* /> /*? W-? A 1-- ^ Jl TIM 4- M
ttUU aUV^-LUUiYCi.3, piUUUiV UUUUC9 iAJ
them as 'members of the bar and bench.
A suburban correspondent writes to
inquire the best method of raising
calves. It evidently never occurred to
him to ask his mother.?Tonkers Statesman.
\ i .
"Just go over that scheme acrain," . ..
said the bnnk cashier to a speculator,
adding: "Never mind that old ,codger :
who has just come in. He's only &
director."
The following question is to be
wrestled with by a "country debating ...
society at its next session: If the Mormon
who has eiffht wives buries one of
them, how mucE of a widower does he
become, if any?
. 1 1 A ,
ou vuu oav J UUI nu^viniu. iuvcajyu,
Mary?" "Oh, he dofes wildly upon.
me J' "Indeed; but he'll soon get over 1?~-v
that." "TVhat makes you think so?" V
"Because men generally soon get over \
sowing their wild dotes."
"We cannot," writes a shrewd contempory,
"impress too strongly upon
all correspondents, when in doubt
whether the postage of a letter is a
penny or twopence, the force of the old
proverb, 'Two heads are better than
one. _ /
Conversation between a Yale senior . t'"
and an Obcrlin senior: Y. S.: "Do you.
play with tops at Oberlin?" O, S.:
"Xo." Y. S.: "Marbles?" 0. S.:
"No." Y. S.: "What do you play?".
0. S"Copenhagen."
Husband (airily, they had just re- turned
from their wedding trip)?"If
Pm not home .from the club by?ah?
10, love, yon won't wait " Wife
/ : _ .1?\ <4XT. J _> j /i t. ?;4-i. __
^quiOLiy)? uwxui aypalling
flrmness?"I'll come for you!"
He was back at 9:45 sharp.
If a man is getting shaved in. & barber-shop,
and a fly alights on his nose,{
and ho gives his head a twitch to re-j
move a fly, during which the'barber re- --\ ? "
moves a slice of the man's ear, who is
;o blame?the man, or the barber, or . 'M
;he fly, or ike ear, or the razor? !
A lady reader writes to say that she
aas been losing her hair recently, - and
fvants to know what she shall do to \
prevent it Either keep your bureau
irawer locked, or else discharge the
lired girl and get another of a complexion
different frofn yours.
In New York a woman is paid six
^ents for making a shirt, and the pa>ers
speak of it as an outrage. let
iere in Vermont a woman not only
Loesn't <ret a cent for making a shirt,
rat things herself mighty happy if her
insband doesn't swearlike a parrot at
he way it fits.
The organ of the bachelors is worried
to find out why a woman will
pend six weeks putting scallops oa
ter dress that nobody but herscli will
iver get a glimpse of, and then run
ibout the neighborhood in an old dirty
vrapper without any belt and every
>ther button burst oil - f .
Leaving home this morning for the"
jfiELce, we kissed our little four-year>ld
good-by. saying to him: "Be a good
)oy to-day." He somewhat surprised
is by saying: "I will. Be a good man,
>apa." Sure enough, we thought. We
leed the exhortation more than he.
As they were trudging along to
;chool a 5-year-old Boston miss- said to
ler companion, a lad of six summers:
'Were you ever affrighted at the coniguity
of a rodent?" "Nay, forsooth,"
ic replied; "I fear not the justaposiion
of the creature, but dislike its
ilarming tendency to an intimate pro- *
jinquity."
When a certain l'ady refused, soon
liter her husband's death- to let the
louhds go out. a sergeant-at-law asked
Shief-Justice X. whether there would
De any harm if they were allowed to
lo so with a piece of crape round their
leeks. "I can hardly think," said the
2kief-Justice, "'that a uiece of crape is
lecessary; it will surely suffice if they
ire in full cry." " 'J,
Little Florence C. was besieging her
lather to take her to visit her grand- %
nother, who lived some miles distant
ro get rid of her importuning he said:
"It costs $10 every time we go to see 4
grandma, Florence, and $10 don't grow
jn every bush." "Neither do grandna's
grow cn every bush," answered
;he little girl, promptly, and her logic
vas convincing, They went.
"W W " liis <i -nnnm in Tfnrr.P.r be
ginning "I liave found out Spring's sejret."
Now wo know that 4,H7 H."
ioes write most beautiful things, and
we always did and do admire her poe- .
;ry, but we haven't read past the first
ine of this poem. It begins too much
ike an advertisement of. a new bloodpurifier.
We've been fopled too many
iimes.on that sort of thing.?Burling'on
Eawkeye.
"George, dear," said a sweet young
ivife to her husband, 'Tve had a talk
fvith the servants this morning, and
lave agreed to raise their wages. They
said everything was so deaf now?rent
vas high" and the price of meat and
butter had risen to such a price, and
jvervthinrr?I thought this was reason
ible" because I've so often heard you
complain of the same thing."
A Chapter on Legs.
Caesar had short le^s. . *
Napoleon was bow-legged.
Lord Palmerston had caricature legs
and so did Disraeli
Alexander Pope was humpbacked
and had a cripple's leg; so did Cowper.
Plutarch tells that Alexander's left
leg was badly out of plumb. Hannibal
had notoriously bi<r heels, and was
kcock-kneed.
Cicero was very spindle-snan&jd,
and Demosthenes is said to have had a
shuffling, stumbling gait, which meant
that his legs were not wholly in gear.
?
ii
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