The Fairfield news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1881-1900, February 11, 1885, Image 1
IpbjT". ." -' .
I \ ^-^v .-. " WINNSBORO,S. C., WEDNESDAYITEBMAItr 11, 1885. " ;.. ^ ^-5
" ... -r~Sl. ^.il' 1'.' .-.... ? , , - ,
> God's Channel.
Like the channel of a mighty river,
(God made the heart of man, a glorious
source ""V:..!:
Through which he means his bounties to deliver;
"Wealth, love or learning to speed on their
course .
To all this suffering -world. He who retains .
The riches of his purse, or soul, or brains.
For his own use, defies God's grand endeavor.
And chokes with weeds of pride and selfishness,
f And rank, vile growths, the bedway of that
river.
Whose stagnant waters?meant to heal and
bless?
!R*row poisonous in their turbid overflow.
And breed disease, and countless crimes and
woe.
? Is t.hv life crowncd bv knowledge and affeo
tion?
Hast thou been prospered in a worldly -tray?
In thy heart's x&aanei gaze with close inspection?
See if foul -weeds fill up its course to-day.
Or do its whQlesome waters run forth free,
So men may drink and share thy joy with
A thee?
?Ella Whoeler Wilcox in the Utica Observer.
- ? I??
SINNING FOR LOVE.
Over hill, and dale, and soft green
meadows, fell the golden haze of a
summer afternoon. A.dreary silence
filled the air, unbroken save by the
hnm of the bees and twitter of the birds
in the trees.
Under the branches of a drooping
tree a girl was standing, a girl fair and
young, more than passing fair. Only,
at this moment the beauty or ner iace.
was marred by the expression of bitter
hate that darkened it, while her eyes
rested on a slight eminence that rose a
few steps away.
She was in the shadow, and on the.
hcl another lady and a gentleman
were standing.
The girl, Cleta Man vers, watched the
lovers, for such Hester Leigh and Guy
j Singleton most certainly were, her
eyes glowing, her breath coming quick,
her short, little hands clenched coirvul^
sively.
"She will never be his wife!" she
cried passionately; "before that I
would take her* life with my own
hands."
Suddenly, almost at her side, there
broke forth, low, clear, and sweet, and
full of an almost agonizing pathos, a
girl's voice in the ballad:
"Do not trust him. trentie lady.
Though his voice be low and sweet;
Heed not him who kneels before thee,
Gently.pleading: at thy feet."
r A swift change passed over Cleta
1 Manvers's face, and she turned in the
f direction,of the sound and came face
' to face \yith the singer, a gipsy girl of
perhaps, eighteen, a girl with a rich,
aark ^ovetiness, but whose face was
pallyd, and whose great dark eyes were
fugfof pain and despair, as well as
^Jpadness.. ~ ^
Cleta laid her hand on the girl's
shoulder. * j
"Have you seen him yet," sh6 said; j
"have you s\?en liuy suable ton.""
The girl's eyes grew wild.
"I -will never find him, never, never!
f I have wandered far and near, but I
see him not. He is gene, gone for
ever; but I must find him;1' and then
she turned in the direction she had
come, and flea down the pathway.
Cleta looked after her.
"Is love woman's curse?" she said.
"Has it been yours as well, fair
Cleta?" and a pair of dark, Hashing
M^eyes were looking-in ta hero.- -suid?s__
mocking face smiled at the ter^
ror that actually whitened her lips.
A low cry left her lips.
"Vernon Singleton alive P'1 she
gasped.
L "Alive and well, and as angelic as
ever," he answered.
^ "As tienctisij," sue saia; men suaaenK
ly: "I thought yon dead, and yon are
"And gloried in the thought, no:
doubt: and here I am, my beloved J
wife."
Her eyes flashed.
"Do not dare to repeat thai," she
said. "I am not your wife. There was
nothing in that ceremony that bound a
child to you?a child, mad wish passion
and pain."
"Yet woman enough for that pain to
ome from love, and -unrequited love,
as it is still, I see;" and his eyes rested
on the eminence where Hester and Gay
etill stood, unconscious of the- watch
"I ain afraid he is lost to you for
certain, now?even if I did exist no
longer. I think yon may give tip, rov
dear." Then changing his manner:
"Listen, Clefca," he said; "I will never
claim you if you help me in this plot."
"What is it?"
Yernon talked low and earnestly for
a while, and Cleta listened silently. '
"Meet me here to-night," he said in
conclusion, "and we will settle the bestway
to manage it" _
Q.'he next instant she was alone again
, ?a new tempest of rage in her bosom.
"The fool!" she said; "does he think
' I would trust him? He has signed his
own death-warrant."
She met him that night, and listened
while h% further explained his plan.
The moon shone pale and high, but
as he turned to leave her it passed
Ko/iinr? ? nf olnn(?s. and
then
Then a pistol gleamed in Cleta's
white hand, a shot rang out on the
night air, and the man fell forward
BEBfatead?shot through the heart.
H|^P?S?he woman bent over him. Yes, he
^ was dead.
Down below, the river ran deep and
dark, and without a moment's hesitation,
with almost superhuman exertion
for her, she dragged him towards
it.
It was terrible work, but she never
paused, though her faee grew pallid,
her eyes wild with fear.
One last effort?a terrible ominous
thud. " The body had sunk below the
water.
4>1 4. U
cue wcuu uuuic ivuu cuvcicu. ? sue
had left, unobserved, and threw herself
on the couch, notio sleep, but to
think of her crime and wonder was she
safe.
She was aroused, however, in a few
w hours, for she had fallen at length into
^ a deep doze, by the'eries of Hester.
"Come quickly," Hester cried; "uncle
Wr is dying. Be quick, Cleta."
J Cleta leaped to her feet, her heart
beating. Only an old man dying. Ah,
I heaven, what had she feared? Even to |
a her soul she feared to whisper that.
||| Yes, their uncle, or . more properly
Bp speaking, their grand-uncle, was dying,
BT nay, almost dead, the kind old man
who had brought them up from childft
hood.
uWT>oro is >c CrrrP" tlrjA
n Lng man said.
V In a few minutes liis adopted son
Bwt stood at the bedside.
||fe The old man who had been more
Bkhan a father to him, and was a disEnt
relation, for the true name as well
l|k name by adoption of Guy was SinHe
ton, was almost past speaking, but
iggpointed to the girls.
Either of them, Guy, for you?you
?aid no more?his soul had passed
^Lys later they laid him to rest
rare, and 'then, in dim
old library, the will was read.
He gave and bequeathed all ho possessed
to his adopted son, Guy Singleton,
on condition he wed Cleta Manvers,
or Hester Leigh, within the year.
To his other grand-niece, the one whom
Guy did not marry, he left ten thousand
pounds, to be paid out of the estate
on Guy's wedding-day.
If Cleta Manvers was a beauty, so
was Hester, of a different type, a different
and a nobler. , * -1
Cleta was fair as a lily, with golden
hair and eyes of cerulean blue, while
Hester's*eyes were deep, soft brown,
her hair chnstnut, thick and wavy.
Cleta's face was rose-tinted and dimpled,
while a flush seldom stained the
fair, pure pallor of Hester's delicate
&ce
j With all the passion of his heart, Gny
loved .nesier- ?mi. pua-suuicu
darling, he called her?and any one
might know, when the will was read,
that she would be the chosen mistress
of the stately home where the girls had
spent their lives. V v u ;
Up and down her own room Cleta
walked- .
He loved Hester, and the girl she
hated would have love, -wealth, position,
while she would have ten thousand
pounds.
"I would dye my hands red again,"
she_.cried, "before Hester should reign
t here triumphant. After all, my crime
m&ht as -well not .have been; yet I
couldnot have trusted him. Had he
lived, I cannot tell what trick he would
" have played mo.. .
"I was to destroy the will, and then
as nearcst-of-kin he wonld inherit all,
and to me he would give one-third.
"? ^4.1.^
Jtsut tneiooi, to never uream luc utuw
plot in my mind, which his coming
would thwart?a plot that will at least
part Hester and Gov, and then perhaps
I will win him. It is my last hope."
Whatever her plot," she played it
well, for when, three or four months
. before the expiration of the year,
Guy asked Hester to be "Tiis wife, she
simply answered him, "No."
She gave no explanation, only turned
coldly away, but had he seen her in
the seclusion of her own room, ho
would have known, no matter what
had caused her refusal, that she loved
him. * "' .
"My love, my love!" she cried;
"though all unw'orthy, I cannot tear
you from my heart."
Ah, what weeks would have been
saved?at least, what weeks of agony,
had Guy known the truth, had he known
? ? i-t v
01 a gipsy xnoiiier >vuu uwasuu. uiu; w
wrcclcing her child's life, had cursed
him with a mother's curse, for the gipsy
girl who-had stood under the"_ tree,
"then fed at Cleta's words, lay in her
grave, and her last words to fier mother
had been the name of her lover, Guy
.Singleton.
"My corse around him and around
the woman he weds," she cried in her
frenzy.
Was it any wonder, then, that when
Guy Singleton asked Hester to be his
wife, white and trembling she refused,
turning coldly away from his pleading.
It was then that Cleta played her
cards well, for Guv found a sympathizer
in her, an5," man-like, Guy
found sweetness in it?at least, a balm
JLUI IILV LIUJLU lUi l?UV UiVn iawwvi
given him.
?Then it dawned upon Jiim_.th.at_Jhis
girl. with,her eyes of blue and liair oi
gold, loved him with a passion he had
never dreamed of. * .
What man is not flattaced by a woman's
love, particularly if she is young
and beautiful?and this girl was both.With
soft, sweet smiles she won him.
Not that his heart yielded to her spell,
but his senses, dazzled by her smiles
and sympathy united, put his better
judgment to flight, though his heart
was, and always would be, Hester's.
One of the girls he must wed, or leave
them both penniless. Ah, had he
dreamed of Hester's pain and hopelessness
of heart he might have less quickly
fled for consolation to another.
-A tew months later?almost at the
expiration of the year?Guy Singleton
made Cleta his wife. Crime and sin
I 1?J ~ ?.
> ii&U. UUU^UCICU.
! She was mistress of her uncle's wealth
I and, wife of the man she adored.
I She knew her husband did not love
! her, but she had triumphed. In time
he would learn to love her. She must
win his love.
Yes, she had triumphed; but did the
memory of the man she had sent before
his Judge cease to haunt her morning,
noon, or night? ...r , r,
Hester bore her pain in silence. If
. gentle, she was far from weak, and
; though her. face grew paler, her eyes
more dreamy, none dreamed of the
weary days and wakefuL nights that
were hers. She had loved Guy with jail
the strength of her heart, but he had
proved unworthy.
Did the knowledge?had the knowlor?rro
lir>r lnVf?3 "MVl .1 thousand
-W . " ?
times no! Love lived, though it lay
bleeding. Ah, how well she loved him
she never knew till he was the husband
of another!
-:Eer life stretched bare and hopeless
before her, death would have been welcome,
or at least she believed it would
have been, in the first great desolation
ofhersouL . (
Bnt then in Cleta's triumph?in the
very height of it, the bolt of God'3
vengeance fell,- when the end of all
things came.
One day while out riding, a man
leaped from a grove near where she
was passing.
A wild cry left her lips. Dead or
alive, Vernon Singleton stood before
her. Heavenly father, what difference
did it make? Dead!" had he come to
haunt her?living, to drag her from her
high estate?
A mocking laugh broke from the
man s lips as he caugnt the reins, and
then?then the horse reared, swerved,
rose on its hind legs, and Cleta lay
white and senseless on the ground.
Without a-look of pity, Vernon
grlanced down on the marble face, and
the pallid lips now flecked with blood,
then turned and left her there till others
found her. * " ' ' ' '
rr"? ^ i? ? i i. ii.? J ? ?
?uey earriea xier uomc, uut uut
tor's verdict ended all hope. She must
die.
Ah, what change comes to our spirit
at the hour of death. Then, indeed,
the eyes see clearly, and a terrible forei
knowledge that fills the soul with awe
comes to us.
Knowing that it was her death-bed,
knowing taat all she had sinned for
was going from her now, she sent for
Hester and Guy, and told them all. The
story of her marriage to Yernon, whom
his uncle had disinherited shortly after
for his wild career.
How, when all believed him dead, he
returned: and then the story of her
crime?her crime that had failed, for
I consciousness had come back to Verj
aon when he struck the water, and the
wound was scarcely even dangerous,
rhen she turned to*Hester.
"Hester, 1 led that gipsy woman to
believe that Guy was the lover who
wrecked her daughter's life, but it was
Vernon."
Her breath came short and labored,
and a gray shadow fell over her face.
' Guy?Guy?I?I Ah, God have
mercy!"
The next instant she was pleading
before His throne.
One year later Hester and Guy were
married, but they never speak Cleta's
name, which, if not forgotten, is not
willingly remembered, save by Hester,
whose gentle heart cannot think but
with pity of the beautiful, sin-stained
woman who lies in her grave.
Yernon Singleton never came near
them, but he sent a messenger for some
' money, which Guy gave, and then he
passed from their lives for ever; and
then the past was forgotten by Hester
and Guy?the past darkness that had
ended in a happy present, and a future
full of hope.
Webster and His Wife.
Mrs. "Webster, whose maiden name
. was Caroline LeRoy, belonged to one
of the old New York families, and was
in many respects a remark&blo woman,
although like the wives of many men
of great attainm nts she was never noted
for any literary talents. She \yas
tall and fine looking, very e.cct in figure
and had a complexion which a
Philadelphia bulle might be proud of.
Sho was very particular about her dress
and disliked anything not in the prevailing
style, not wishing to adhere to
by-gone fashions, as so many old ladies
do, though her inherent good taste was
always seen in a desire to have suitable
toilets for every occasion.
When she told her numerous and
imple experiences of life, we always
were interested in listening to the
thirds that pleased her most?how Mr.
Webster used to call'her the "Lady
Caroline," of their evening walk's, and,
indeed, many of her reminiscences
were verv entertaining, wore they less
frequently or more coherently carried
OUt. L.i:. ~ i ^ - - Mrs.
Webster always read the newspapers,
and though it is doubtful if she
ever fully realized that she was almost
alone in her generation, somo names
took her back over a lapse of years^and
she recalled persons vividly. At the
time Caleb Cushing was appointed
Minister to Spain she remarked: ."He
was a very agreeable man; I knew him
well." She also said: "I wonder why
he never married?" The old lady was
always a great advocate of matrimony.
We once asked her what she thought of
Henry Clay.
''Oh," she replied, "Mr. Clay was
the thinnest man I ever saw. He was
! a great man and a magnificent speaker
?not equal to my husband, of.course."
One day in reading Sir H. Holland's
letters we saw an account of a dinner
given to Daniel Webster and his wife
when in England. We mentioned this
to Mrs. Webster, and she was very anxious
to see the book. A chord in her
memory was touched, and long dormant
memories seemed to awake. She
related various little incidents of her
travels abroad, but, though they were
then so feted and made much of, there
was no assumption of dignity on her
part; she merely took the attention
paid her as her due, being the wife of a
great man, the Secretary of a great
Nation. She mentioned driving out in
a barouche with the Queen and driving
with her merely as she would had she
done the same with an acquaintance in
Iter ovvju. rank of Kfc. Sh? ?milin?rlv
- . - i J
saiu: "^ueen victoria is a very piamlooking
person, but an excellent woman
and very sensible. I have seldom
met an American lady at a dinner
party dressed as plainly and with as
little taste.*'
The Hon. Alexander Stephens once
said of Daniel Webster: "I think Webster
was the worst slandered man I ever
knew. It is the general impression
in the country to-day that Webster was
a gTeat drunkard. You hear it spoken
of even now whenever his name is mentioned,
but it" is an outrageous slander.
I will tell you what I know myself. For
six years while ve were both in Confress
I lived next door to him. His
ouse was as familiar to me as my own
garden. I was in tnese a great aeai
and he was as often in mine, and in all
the time of my acquaintance with him
I never saw Webster when he was in
the least affected by liquor or under the
influence of it in any way. I have
dined with him at his house and mine.
I have met him at dinners and affairs
outside and' I never saw him in the
least inebriated. I never heard of his
being intoxicated but twice, and on one
. of these occasions?a dinner?he made
a speech that was grandly eloquent."
?Philadelphia Times.
. s '
A Wonder Machine Gun.
A Philadelphia inventor,- Hiram S.
Maxim, the inventor of the system of
electric-lighting bearing his name, has
invented a machine gun that fires six
hundred shots a minute from a single
barrel. The gun with its tripod only
weighs 126 pounds, and is arranged in
such a way that the force of the recoil
tmrvtv. nnn rAlinil of tVlO TTIIimPrt frT*irtC7
LiUi-U, VUV iVuuu w- ?- ?q i
is utilized and forms the motive power
for loading and firing the next round.
The cartridges are."kept in a canvas'
belt seven yards long, in a box under
the gun; you insert one end of the belt
in the gun, start the firing and then
: can train the gun as you cnoose while
the discharge proceeds mechanically.
A new belt can be attached as "the
old one becomes emptied. "The barrel
is surrounded by a water jacket to prevent
it firoiELbecomicg heated.- If the
man working the gun should te killed,
the gun would go on firing mechanicall
v. till the cartridges were exhausted,
unless spme faulty cartridge interfered.
Certainly a maehine gun which one
man can work, and which fires ten shots
a second, is something important in.
murderous discovery.?London Times.
Too Busy to Think of Dogs.
Mr. Busyman is looking up and down
the street for a lost do?. He is distressed
because, he says, his family is so
fond of the dog, which has been in the
house nearly nine years. Already he
1 4-r\ o-nr? rrrVncflp Vinmp
I11U> ci L lUiiiU lA-Vi vv/ JLV.4M. MUVL
a hairless Mexican dog, a big black
Newfoundland, a red Irish setter, and
a.black-and-tan. ...
"What kind of a dog was it?" asks a
g^liceman who hat been watching Mr.
usyman and is growing suspicious of
him.
. Mr. Busyman is startled.
"I declare/' he says, "I don't know.
I never saw the dog in my life, you
know; often heard my wife and the
children speak about him, but forgot
what they called him. I'll go home and
get a description."
A busy man of many caies is not the
kind of a man to seek for a lost dog.?
Burlington Haivkeyc.
'n' " *? L A-~ - B f rtfft
xne interests 01 me u?ma aic ooic.
This years crop of peanuts is 1,000,000
bushels larger than that' of last year,
and actors. all over the couu:ry ars
bound to have large and pleased audiences.?Atlanta
Constitution.
EDGAR AX.LEX POE.
His Early Strangle for a Living?W'here and
When Ho Penned The Raven.'*
Twenty minutes ride from the Grand
Central depot, writes a New York correspondent
of the Troy Times, brings
us to the beautiful and historical Tillage
of Fordham, in the Twenty-fourth
ward, and turning to the left from the
station and passing upward between
the moss-covered rocks, stone
walls, and great old trees upon the
Kingsbridge road, wo soon reach tho
last residence of the most famous of
American poets, Edgar Allen Foe,
around which cluster so many sadly interesting
reminiscences of the man who
was at once the most distinguished and
most unfortunate of our purely-native
writers. The place consists of a oneand-a-half-story-house,
with a lean-toaddition
on one side and abroad veranda
on two sides of the main building.
All are picturesquely overgrown and
ririfti T-IVQO onr? r?rpfvn#?TS- and a
number of grand old cherry trees in
the yard throw a massive shade upon
the veranda. This all stands in the
centcr of about two acres of soft and
velvety greensward. Near the house is
a syringa bush planted by the poet, and
on one of the trees in tho orchard are
his initials, cut by himself, but whiclt
now have lost much ol their shape T)y
siongation by the growth of tho tree.
Back of the cottage stands tho pine under
which Poe was in the habit of reclining
for an hour at a timer "dreaming;
dreams no mortal ever dared to
dream before." .
Here, in 1846, Poe moved with his
child-wife (she married at 14) and her
mother. Buried among the trees with
the scent of heliotrope and mignonette
and his few pets about him, he devoted
himself to the task of earning a living
by his pen, and that only?a task ana
a hope that has always been a hollow
mockery, a delusion, and a snare. . _
In the upper story of this house, under
the slanting roof, which is reached
by a winding stairway, was his study
and bedroom. It is lighted by a lar^e
double window and at the oppositesiao
is a very ample open tirepiace. vvnac
a host of memories are crowded upon
you as you enter this sacred, almost
^hallowed chamber. Here, many and
manv a time, has he
r-. - . .,
'w pondered, weak and weary, ,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of
forgotten lore.
Here during the last sickness of his . .
wife, when the hand of death was fall- , !
ing gently, but surely and unmistak- |
ably, in that .
' bieak December,
Vainly had he sought to borrow
From his books surcease of sorrow?sorrow |
for the lost Lenore; ? - . .
For that rare and radiant maiden whom the
angels name Lenore. *-v i_ I
Here is the window nfc which came
the tapping of the ominous and evil .
raven, and through which, when he <
opened it, with many a flirt and flutter i
stepped the ghastly, grim, uncertain <
bird from the night's Plutonian shore;
there, over the door, stood the bust of.
Pallas, upon which this horrible bird
pcrched himself and by his croaking
"Nevermore" struck wonder, awe, j
anger, and terror in the poet's heart.
Here he stood when he pleaded with the
gaunt specter:
Pi-nnViot " mm T "thine of evil?nroohet still
_ lf^bird or devil?
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest ,
tossed thee here ashore.
Desolate, yc-t all undaunted, on the desert
- land enchanted? <
On this home by horror haunted?tell me truly,
I implore,
Is there?is there balm In Gilead? Tell me? i
-.. tell me, I implore?" * ,
Quoth the raven: "Nevermore."
And here on this spot on the floor is ,
where the awful shadow of death fell: '
And my soul from out.that shadow that lieg
floating on the floor
Shall be lifted?nevermore.
Virginia Eliza Poe passed away Jan- '
nary 30, 1847, and was buried in the
rustic churchyard here at Fordham, on- '
ly 25 years old. A darker shadow than i
the raven threw upon the study floor |
was upon the soul of Poe, and it was
never lifted from it. Poor before, he ;
was poorer now, and never a rapid or (
voluminous writer, he became slower
and less frequent in his productions but <
here, under the shadow of her love, h^..'
continued with great difficulty to write, 1
"Ulalume," "Annabel Lee," and a }
number of prose pieces.
The country lanes and byways in this J
section are exceedingly beautiful, and
it was Poe's delight to take-long strolls
in the early morning. There is a ledge 1
of rocks near ttn cottage, crowned with '
pines and cedars, which command a '
line view of the surrounding country, ;
and which he loved* Here he would sit
for hours wrapped in thought over the composition
of "T .reka," which he-be- <
gan after his wife's death. . _. .
There was a spirit of unrest and revolt
in Poe which refused tq accept 3
whatever had established" itself. Bom f
in the lowest walks of life; tho ehild of: 1
strolling players, adopted by Mr. Al- I
lan, a wealthy gentlemanof Baltimore, ]
he was given a splendid education. Na- 1
ttire had liberally, nay bountifully en- i
dowedhim with- magnificent talents, i
which under other circumstances would J
have made him a happy man, an orna- . J
ment to society, and a monument of J
honor to his country, but for some <
slight freak he was cast ^drift before he 1
was 21, with the education,. instincts, ?
auu VA 0 gvUNAVMMuy MM*
without the material means of holding 1
the position he should have occupied in
society. Thus he became a misan- <
thrope and a cynic. 1
With no means at his command to-1 X
gain his own,livelihood but his brains :
and his pen, he turned to .letters as a i
means of sup&ort,'a task of more than l.
herculean magnitude, a task in which 1
the world of literature has yet to produce
the man who has been successful
unaided by ulterior sources. His was
a particularly unfavorable time, for we
as a nation had not : yet taken a place ?
among the literati of the world. Liter- J
ature was not fostered as the weakly i
plant .hat needed the gontle care and <
nurturing of appreciation, approbation, t
and financial support necessary to t
brin^it to a heal'thv growth. That f
most wonderful piece o? work in the *
entire range of English-literature, "The I
Raven," brought him the munificent '<
sum of $15; and a gentle&an who was- J
proof-reader on the magazine in which 1
it was first published tells me that the 1
editor brought him the copy and ex- 1
pressed himself as feeling he had paid t
too much for it. The Harpers to-day *
would willingly give as much per line 1
for such a piece.
Poe died .in Baltimore in October, *
1849, in his fortieth year.- The imme- *
diate cause of his death is shrouded in c
mystery, though it was supposed he *
was waylaid in the streets. He was de- i
lirious when found by his friends, and 1
continued so until just before his death. 1
A brief, brilliant, bat unhappy life and
melancholy death was his, of whom it
may be well said, in the words 01 ur. ]
Johnson, that the events of his life are 1
variously related, and all that can be <
told with certainty is that he was poor, j
"The Raven1' will long preserve his ?
memory, and with it the memory of the ,
great artist, Gustave Dore, who spent
tne last year ox fus Die in illustrating- it..
EcTgarAlIenPoe haswon the fame
be eovgted:, c", . VJ . ,i
And ?0 sepulchered lii siich pomp doth lie.
That Kings'for such a tomb would wish to die.
Ldttlc Edith Goes ta Court. g
'-.HZCil? ?- T
A mite of a girl with dimpled cheeks f
and haar-mJptfet^-lock^ stopped -at the v
steps of-the Yorkvilte Court yesterday i
morning-and- gave-a-crumprled hit or v
paperio'apoKceman standing there,
llie policeman Tead:. . ; . ; ?
Please j^ect tfais little. girl to York- 8
yille Ec>H<^ iCjopxjt^ lyty.-s'eTenth street,,..
between-^n^irf, jind' -Lexington a??".' ?
nnes. .* " ,
' T m "Edith Jenith Adams, 8 years
old next January, and my house is at 0
488 Lexington avenue;" . ."She said "toC'
rs ? * * -.-Wy -i t T.'' -a
riouiiQsmaji^nuitroon.-Triia' met ner at v
the door. "Mamma's sick- and papa's x
a letter carriei^aatLcaa'.t, get here yet, j,
so I game alow.?- ? ? - ~ ? ?
"Wfcake4ri.vspe:da for you, little girl,'* j(
inquired'tiiirwjnndsman. i ~ ; '- 0
"Shoot-s^do^' exclaimed Edith, ex- j,
citedly;-'- 3iH? bit me, and my mamma t
and papa are 'frald^ril get hy^dro-pho- * a
biarif the dog's - - v
crowd^ltcoSffcigrfe.emd ;offlcera-whd ^
gathered around tho'-little StLz jj
"Here - and?.here?and-^here^-'' said ^
Edith, Doii^ngJto^ scratch at the side
of her eye-and tw&'-bumpe oztchej^: ](
head. "I went to Henry E. ,^KohPs ? $
fore 'iTctio^ij^fiEfeyrrsome clothes?"'"" jv
pins for-mammaA-greenhom bc^ia, $
the sto5&lia?fc n
"What's a greenhorn- boy?*' asked ) 3
the listsoffsr^ oSi r?' .
"Oh, dbn^t you know?M said "the liib-t j,
tie girl, 5a surprise: 4 'Why, one' 'who-' r"
has just landed. Greenhorn boys act,
in Jsew jorK just use tnev aia mine sold
country. I said to the greenhorn tj
boy; 'Ho?r fanny your dog washes his. gj
faces.' Bie, dog flew up in the ail. ^
right at me. His top tooth stuck in" ^
my head, and his-- lpwer tooth struck
almost in my eye.'/ The blood went all p
over the floor. The storekeeper stuck ^
a piece of paper and. mucilage on my Ci
head, and gave -;a pear not to teJljny
papa. DC Andrews had itofix my 5e$d,
and every bit of my hair is [dblling-but p,
Will the Judge go now and ?hoot the ct
-log?" r ^)r ;: x it
"When he comes back this afternoon a.
ril tell him about it," said Roundsman C(
Muldoon. i J \L I A, .. lj
.Edith's father, m posfcm^s uniform, w
having just finished nis route, hurried
into onrrrf. anH tnnlr his littlrt Hanchtflr
up in Ms arms. ? / jj f ^
- "Papa," the child said, "\ou told me ^
this was a place where/ people came to jE
find out what to do. They won't tell st
me anything here. * They won't even a|
^ive me a sample." r[ aj
Evexybody laughcd-jat Edith. Mr. jj
Adams said he wouM-tryto get aroxmd 01
on time to-morrow morning, and car- *pj
ried his daughter on his shoulder out of ^
;ourt.?New York Sun. fa
* 1 * ci
jfa "Our Presidents. g,
Mr. Cleveland will be the twentysecond
Resident of the country. Of
the presidents, seventeen were elected sand
four?Tyler, Fillmore, Johnson,
and Arthur?succeeded to the office sc
from the vice presidency. Thomas Jef- ?
ferson and John Quincy - Adams were ,1
elected by the house of representatives :
fn default of an election by the elector- 111
al college, and Rutherford B. Hayes n<
was declared -elected oy tne commission ~ selected
to decide the disputed election 01
of 1876. Seven of the presidents? w
Washington, Jefferson, Madison, Mon- sc
roe, Jackson, Lincoln and Grant?were a
elected a second time. **
Gen. Grant was the youngest of the ro
presidents when inaugurated, being 47; P
Pierce and Garfield were 49; Polk and f?
Fillmore, 50; Tyler, 51; Lincoln, 52;
Van Buren and Taylor, 55; Washing- F
ton and Johnson, 57; Jefferson, Madi- if
son,-And John Quincy Adams, 58; Monroe,
59; John Adams and Jackson, 62;
Buchanan, 66; Harrison, 68. Garfield aT
lied the youngest, not having reached
tis fiftieth birthday; Polk was 54 at his , 1
death; Lincoln, 56; Pierce, 65; Taylor, , ^
56; Washington and Johnson, 67; Harrison,
68; Tyler and Monroe, 78; Fill- cj
more, 73; Buchanan, 77; Jackson, 78; ei
Van Buren, 80; ^John Quincy Adams, ai
31; Jefferson, 83; Madison, 85; John , F<
&dams, 91. fii
The honor of 'furnishing presidents ax
hoc nrtt: Kaon ottonlit diafrrihntpr? JimrtrtO" CS
the states: Virginia, Massachusetts, sh
Tennessee, New York, Ohio, Louisiana, m
New Hampshire, Pennsylvania, and th
Qlinois furnishing all the incumbents so he
far. Cleveland will be the third presi- se
lent from New York?Van Buren and ca
Arthur being his predecessors. fp
It is somewhat remarkable that no nc
member of the United States senate
should ever have been elected to the
president at the time of his incumt>ency.
Disregarding the fact that experience
in this'body ought to fit a man
for the high office, the people have ig- n
aored the senators. The army has furaished
a large number of presidents, a*
md, with the exception of Hancock, *
HcClellan, and Scott, .^qiijilitary man ^
lominated for the office has failed of
jlection. . Washington .owed his eleva- s?
ion to his success m the field; Jack- *h
son's record in the war of 1812 was the ro
tfave which lifted him into the white
louse; and Harrison, Taylor, Pierce, w:
arant, Hayes, and Garfield wore the
ipaulets of a general before they were
lonored with the chief magistracy of ^
3ie nation. ^
There are now two ex-presidents liv- ^
n^?Grant and Hayes?and after the SP
tth of "March Mr. Arthur will make a
hird. o?
4 i ? sh
A Missing Vowel. ^
re
An amusing story is told of the late
ilr. Justice Byles." The learned Judge fii
vas an excellent shorthand writer, havng
early in life graduated as' a report?
* 1 A nfJi'Ao r\y\ Ann
'!" At tiiu OUiiiUldUli Ai^Oi^O vu vuv vv
:asion, as was customary, he read porions
of the evidence to the juiy, but JPj
loundered hopelessly in the middle of as
i sentence. There was an awkward
>ause, and the jury and bar nervously th
iwaited the result. His Lordship at fo
ast, after many efforts to decipher the ha
nissing word, dropped his dignity, and, nc
eaning over towards the reporters be- ro
ow, inquired: "Can any of you gen- se
lemen assist me \o a word hero? I ch
lave not. put in the vowels, and what I
lave in my book looks as if the witness re
lad said, 'Go and call in the baby,' to
rat"?with a puzzled look?"it can't pa
" * *- '
>e that, because tnere is no d&dy m woe w
;ase." One of the reporters was equal til
o the occasion, and, putting the vowel pa
n the right place, the word "bobby" Fi
vas the result, and the Judge continled
his charge.?London Ttibits.
. . de
"Doctor, do you think my leg is any de
setter off?" asked the man who had ba
Tied to keep two freight cars from yc
coming together. "Yes, replied the Ii
physician, "a good deal better ofL" pi
ajia ne proceeaea to get s?r?.? ^
Boston PosL :" Z M / r ca
? ? (jt
r* - * - ;
i
I
^ BEBGH OS RACING.
Ie Entertains Very Decided Opinions as
to the Cruelty of Racing.
"A beautiful morning. Take a seat,"
aid Mr. Bergh this morning to a re>orter
for the Mail and Express.
'Providence is wise. It knows bad
reather and politics would be too much
or. us to war, and so we have fine
reather."
"You've seen that Maud S. lowered
at? wo s. Ling reuutu uj a 4ua1.bc*. ui a
ccond, Mr. Bergh?"
"That makes it 2:09}, does it not?
Lnd even that won't satisfy the racing
(nbaa," . - '
"Do you consider such speeding a
rnelty?" ....
"Most decidedly. It is a. cruelty from
rhich no benefit is derived. Why, Mr.
Jonner is no more satisfied now than
ie was, before the mare accomplished
he task. Now she will be expected to
Dwer the record again, because her.
wner, trainer, and a number of good
adzes of this kind of achievement
hide she can.. If Mand S. went round
. mile in one minute, then- she would e^tlowork
to do it in fifty-nine sec
1 rlto yon consider the tramtng tne
.orse ^oes through cruel, or theiace
A Horse cannot go on forever
Dwering a record. Making an animal
o its utmost so frequently must tax
a power and cause pain- It is an exense
to the owner and a great exhaus- 1
ion to the horse. The training is unatural
and must eause any animal a
eal of discomfort" ,
"Axe you opposed to racing generalj,
or only to the attempts to lower the :
ecord?"' ? !
vTo all kinds of racing or unnatural
peeding of .animals. In horse-racing
be jockey is armed with a whip ana \
piirs and the racers arc stabbed and j
^hipped until not '.infrequently they ;
rop from sheer exhaustion. * Is not |
i^t cruelty? And yet we have no '
ower to interfere, because the law :
-ants us to see the cruelty actually
^mmitted."
"Is there no remedy for this?" . !
"I am willing to acknowledge I am .
KflMntfo fV?? moi^riftr r\$ fho '
immunity support it, and they support
from vanity and gambling. Take '
way the gambling from the race- '
3urso and the turf will have lost near- 1
' ail its attraction, or like the opera
ith Patti singing but not receiving
5,000 a night. It will be the same as
bull-tight without blood. As an exnple,
some time ago a party of
ndalasians came here and built a ring 1
l j One Hundred and Twenty-fifth
reeL I informed them that if they
;tempted a bull-fight I would stop the '
fair, and that a horse would not be ,
lowed in the ring. They agreed to
aly use paste on the rosettes and not '
;as? and do away with the blood, and
hat was the result? The whole af
ir was a failure, which would be presely
the case with horse-racing if
imbling was stopped." '
"It is said that some owners refuse
> allow their horses to be whipped or
mrred." , '
"Such an owner ought to show himilf
in Bunnell's museum at least once
day. Do you suppose that if an own
starts a norse in a race, ana nas a
it of say $10,000 on that horse's win- '
jig, ho will tell tie jockey he must
)t spur or whip it? I can't conceive
tch & thing, and imagine the jockey's
lly instructions would be, go in and '
in. An owner made the assertion
me time ago that it was natural for '
horse to run like they are made to do,
id that they like to be whipped all
und the course. Take that man and {
it a bit in his mouth and make him
;n round a ring, at the same time ,
rashing him, ana see how he likes it;
Ld it is the same thing, only the horse '
a dumb animal and cannot express
i feelings.". ,
"You grant, I suppose, these horses ]
e well taken care of ?"
"Such, care as you or I would be
-II satisfied with at the Fifth Avenue
>tel? but such a<s is unnatural to a
use; and then they only receive such
ire while they are repaying their own- <
3k Let them deteriorate or sprain an 1
lkle and then see where they go to. t
jllow one of these horses and you will
id him by and by standing in front of
1. ash-cart belonging to some one ^
irtine refuse up to Shantytown. I ]
ioul<f think that these gentlemen
embers of the Jockey club who say
ey have the interest of the horse at j
:art would be glad to have our reprentativo
on the course to report any
sq of cruelty, but they refuse altoither
to give us admission, and then
>g a horse all the way round"?New j
ork Mail and Express. ?
m ? m T
*4 Painting It Bed." t
5
A citizen who was waiting at the cor- x
sr of Jefferson avenue and Wayne ?
rcet yesterday was accosted by a man t
>out 27 years old, who said ho wanted f
little information. When told to t
ive ahead he asked:
T ? U?r.
\aimos5 every paper x piuix. uy uao
mething in it about somebody painting <
e town red. I don't see any red {
und Detroit to speak of. Do they (
lint the buildings, or sidewalks, or <
bat?" J
"Mine innocent friend," replied the {
tizen, "the term doe3 not refer ex;tly
to paint and brushes. If you c
buld come in here to clean out De- (
Dit, or if you are goin^ on a high old ]
ree, or if you intended to raise an ex- ?
tement, you should slant your hat' j
er your left ear, spit over your ri^ht (
ouider, ana announce in a ioua vo .cu ,
at you were going to paint the to'ira j
^ c
"Because red is the color of blood? c
e?lightning?red hot times, eh?" (
Exactly." s
*?Kind of a figurative expression?" ?
"Just so." t
"Well, I'm glad I've found out, and ?
n much obleeged," said the stranger,- i
he walked away. t
Two hours later he was conducted to ?
e Central Station by two officers, {
ar-fifths drunk, and a tough case to r
indie. He had a black eye, a bloody j
ise, a bleeding ear, and had been
lied in the dirt until he was a sight to
e. When the Caotain asked the f
*1 >
arga me prisoner repneu:
"Eed paint, Captain?put 'er down <<
d paint Been ail round paintin' 'er t
wn red. Town been all round (
intin' me red Whoop! Lively old j
wn! Lively old red!* Got painted
1 'er can't rest! Put 'er down red
int?more'n a bar'l of it!"?Detroit
ree Press. 5
3
^ i C
Scene on a railway platform at Heilberg?Traveler
to University stu v
nt: "Sir, vou are crowding; keep t
.ck, sir." U. S. (fiercely): "Don't n
iu like it? Allow me to tell you that y
im at your service at any time or f
ace." Traveler (benignantly: "Ah, ^
that is verv kind of VOU. Just ?
xiy this sachel for me to the hotel.n ^
irman Paper. ?
Beyond Her Dreams.
As the carriage rolled over the gasrtudded
street toward the Central Depot,
the new-made wife rested upon her
husband's shoulder, and pictured to
herself the new home, whither she was
going?pictured a proud old palace by
the western sea, with its swish of fountains,
and its sumptuous interior, and
ts grand, grand views overlooking the
spires of the city, and the winged argosies
of the nations as they beat
trough the golden gate, and the? But
here the carnage stopped, and her husband
getting out, assisted her to alight.
They were in front of a small cottage
in the outskirts of the city, and, placing
his arms gently around her, he led her
co mie aoor. "way arc yuu
here, Frederick?'" she asked in bewi?
derment. "This, my darling, is our
future home," he- replied* tenderly but
triumphantly, as he pushed' the door
open and entered- the scantly furnished-'
domicile.
"Frederick! F-r-e-d;e-r-i-o-k! What*
io you mean?" .
' "I mean, ' my sweet," drawing heir:
closer '
that I am not a Western man, nor a
CaHfomiah?that?"
"Sir!" coldly, and drawing haughtily" ?romhim.
r ;-;
"But that I am a coachman!"
"Oh, Frederick, you delicious old
darling you!" and she rushed into his
arms and buried her face on his shirt
bosom, laughing hysterically for joy.
"Yes, my dear, I am a coachman,and
have been one ever since I have been
anything almost. lou see, i teit a
longing for love, for true, true love.
Many proud and wealthy maidens
smiled on me, but I .feared that they
eared not for me, but.for my position;
and so-1 resolved to disguise myself as
a rich swell and to seek some woman
who would love me for myself alone,
and not because I was a coachman.
<^nd now, my dear, that I have found
her, I throw off all disguise and am a
eoachman once more?your coachman,
and vours only." ..
"Oh, Frederick, you dear, dear, old
trecencK: now nooie, uow geueious
pou are! And to- think that I ever
should be a coachman's wife! I never,
aever .dared to dream of such happiness
for poor little me!"?SanFrancisco
Chronicle. '
Some New Geography.
Of what is the surface of the earth
composed?
Of corner lots, mighty poor roads,
base-ball grounds, crieket fields and
skating rinks.
What portion of the globe is water?
About three-fourths. Sometimes they '
add a little gin and nctmeg to it
XXTT-t o f ^ O O f AM7TI P
VT UttU U Cv WTTAfc.
A town is a considerable collection of
houses and inhabitants, with four or
five men who "run the party" and lend
money at 15 per cent interest 1
What is a city?
'A city is an incorporated town, with
a Mayor who Relieves the whole world
shakes when he happens to fall*flat on
the sidewalk- .J
What is commerce? j
Borrowing $5 for a day or two and ;
lodging the lender for a year or two. :
Name the different races. !
Horse-race, boa-race, by cycle-race, 1
and racing around to find a man to
endorse your note. .
T_4.? "U aytt flOCAO ic I
JLLl IAJ U\J >Y jjaa.ilJ u xuuuiuuvt
iivided?
Seven?Enlightened, civilized, half- j
civilized, savage, too utter, not worth a ]
;ent, and Indian Agents.
What nations are called enlightened?
Those which have the most wars, and
ihe worst laws, and produce the worst
jriminals. ,
How many motions has the earth?
That's according to how you mix
four drinks, and which way you go
iome.
What is the earth's axis?
The lines passing between New York j
ind San Francisco.
What causes day and night? j
Day is caused by night getting tired '
jut Nisrht is caused by everybody 3
;akin? tiTe street-cars and going homo 1
O O O . v I
o snpper.
What is a map? ' - A
map is a drawing to show the jury 1
vhere Smith stood when Jones gave J
lim a lift under the eye.
What is a mariner's compass?
A jug holding four gallons.?San 1
Francisco Neivs-Letier.
Something New in the Law.
Senator Yance claims that the peo- <
>le of North Carolina are the most law- J
ibiding people in the world, and to I
>rove'it tells of a newly appointed jus- '<
ice of the peace who on a public occa- J
:ion, when a fight was about to com- ]
nence, commanded the peace, and pre- s
;erved it bv rushing between two com- 1
)atants, drawing a knife a foot in i
en^th, and threatening instant death i
o the man that should violate the pub- <
ic peace. c
I know (writes a correspondent) of 1
m incident which illustrates admirably ?
;hc love of justice which animates our >
xcellent body of magistrates, as well J
is their ingenuity iii threading the I
nazes of the law, and arriving at its i
rue meaning and intent. .
A newly appointed J. P. in one of s
war. frrrin/* a V
/Ui CiVK/iU WUUbi^O IT Uk7 V4J liiC ? \MIU
:ase of much difficulty, in which the
aw appeared to be involved in consid:rable
doubt. On one side was Lawyer'
3 , contending that the law was
lead in favor of his cHent; on the other
vas Lawyer H , who was equally as
>ositive that the law was clearly on the
)ther side. The Court was in great
ioubt for a time, but a lucky idea ocsurred
to his mind. "Gentlemen,"
iaid the Court, "the facts in this case
ire well ascertained, but the law seems
;o be doubtful. The attorneys on each
;ide have stated what the law is, but
hey do not agree. The Court decides
hat as the facts are established by the
>aiks of witnesses, the law must bees- {
ablished in like manner. The Court I
equires each attorney to swear that the t
aw is what he has asserted it to be." i
One of the attorneys took the requir>d
oath without hesitation. The other
lemurred, and lost his case.
Our new J. P. declares that he has
liscovered a plan of getting at the A
ruth of the law never thought'of by c
2oke or Blacks tone.?Editor's Draw.:',
n Harper's Magazine for December. ?
m ? f
A young Philadelphia widow, decribed
as "dashing," it is said,- will
;ive a ball during tne coming winter at (
rhich no ladies but widows 30 years of
.ge or under will be present.* Grass j
ndows will be sternly barred out* As
he local widows of the right kind will
lot be numerous enough, invitations j.
nil be sent to widows an 25ew York, E
Boston, Baltimore, and other cities, i
'he buds and roses of the Quaker City j
re up m anns, and threaten to ostraise
all the yotmg men who may attend >A
he widow's baJl.
WIT AND
Sweet Is the voice of the maiden Zafr;
Bright is the g-low of the risingmoon; ,Si^jasai5il!
Softare the zephyrs that stirthe sir;
Load Is the blast of the trombone's tune;
The maiden Rill sleep ere the morning grey; *
The glOTv of the inoon will-fade away; ^>5*
The zephyrs will die when the nightIs gone,' ?, Y '
But the blasted trombone will still play on- ...
?Somerville Journal. /. .
rhe light of her eyes was a shining blue, - ^
Thecastof herlips a ruby red: " ' * * r
And this was all that he thought to do.
As he placed his hand on her weD-poisedheaS, *v' *
To steal one long transcient kiss;.
And he bended ovcrward on his toes,
But all the remembrance of his bliss
Is the scars of fingernail? on ate nose. v.. % l
?Cherubusco People. -je- .
At a cheap 'restaurant: ."Will ypu' '-r " V ^
have a 25-cent d i nucr, sir, or a S5-cent , 'sgSs? "
one?" "What is thedifiereneobefcireen :
the two?" "Ten cents, sir."?French
Fun.
"Just look at that drag; mj**don't
she put on lots-of agony 3*' ijan^iedfa
Heights isuiy to iier mgDanu. as uwy. met
a ^
its own corner merely becarJe*the man'
lies down. You never hear of a prizefighter
fighting anywhere unless there;
s lots of gate money behind the fight.
?Burlington Havikcye..
John Fizzletep is not as industrious
>s he might be at school and his,father....
ndeavors to. correct the eyfl. *5Sbyou'~
were kept in again to-day at school for :o;>:
not knowing your lessOp. .Just walk'
f/\ rsnf KAAm " vO/4* V1 TTI Ck$~fyT\
LtXLTV/ bUdb HJVi.ll) - OiUU V1U XiACMVVUJ/Jf .
hunting for a strap. "01^ no,. , pa. '
Don't for goodness' sake let us have
another one of those scenes." i,:?
They were talking about the suffer n<rs
of the Greely party.; -"Itfs a terrible
thing, isn't it,"' Oara,rt said
Oharles, "to live off the fieSkof toman
oeings?" "Oh, I don't know," replied ;
Clara, a bride' of six months^ ''You
are a cannibal, too, Charley. You live
off father, you know." Charles fainted
dead away?at the ancient flavor of the
cutting remark.?Traveler'$i Magazine. :
A Little "Bock man sold his cooking
stove to get money enough to* take his
family to the circus.1- Wnen one of his
friends remonstrated'-wrth^fhn-he said:
"We had ho use for the stove; had
nothino-to cook." "But whv didn't
you buy something- to- est. with the
money you got for the stove?' "Then
we should have nothing to cook it oh.
Don't talk" to me. I'm a philosopher."
?Arkansaw Traveler*
"Oh, dear," sighed a woman, who
was always complaining about her
health, and who was never, under any
circumstances, without some 'serious
ailment,- "I feci so. wretchedly this
morning. I think I am the most unfortunate
woman alive." . "Xes," said
heishusband, sympathmngly.; "I feel c
very sorry for you, indeed, my dear. I
don't believe there is'a woman in the
world who enjoys such poor 'health a3
you do.v?New York Sun.
The Comanche Indians are said to
be starving. There is no reason why
the .Comanches should starve. Lefc
some Hew York lady of fashion do
away with her poodle and take a Co.
tnan.che for a pet Then all the other
fashionable ladies will take one. In.
this way the Government will not only
be relieved of all the expense, but the
Indians will be fed and clothed.?
Louisville Courier-Journal. A
Boston dude for some incompreSensible
reason was married one day
last week to a stout, healthy country
yirl. The dude was perfumed, wore
irills on his shirt, his hair was curled, and
ae presented such a feminine appear- _
mce that the clergyman who was called
>n to unite them in matrimony sand:
"I don't want to make any mistake
ibout this business. Which of you is
:he bride, anyhow?"
, "Does the man rush?" "Yes, he is
?. 1* tiWlirr ^aao Tirrm*rr oIaviiv^
1 iUdllCI* TV HJ UVtO JUV UUiLJ WiVAig
ihe, street in that fashion? Perhaps his
louse is afire." "Perhaps he never
i&d one. That man is a lawyer, who
possibly makes $10 a week. When ho
eaves his office he puts up a sign:
Back in three minutes; please wait!"
But why does he rush?" "To make
Deople think he is carrying-thoSupremd
^ourt of JViichigan under Ms hat."
^Wouldn't some of his creditors 'tackle
lim on the street if he didn't put on so
nuch steam?" "K'rect, my wyfYou
night guess a thousand times and not
lit the nail any closer!"?Detroit Free
Press.
Kosciusko Murphy was taking a cap
)f coffee in Schmidt's restaurant on
Austin avenue,- when the genial proprietor
came" in, .and, .taking a seat
ilonsside of Murphy, they soon engaged
in conversation on scientific subects.
; "It vas somedings wonderful,"
CJ/vl>w?itnrkrt4- TVHAi'?meg lo
rdlll TTuav M ?m?vw
yj science.1' "Yes, that is so, and in
some things science has gone as far as
t -can possibly go." 4'I vas not sosuro
>f dot," responded Schmidt. "For instance,
when it comes to making gold
eaf the leaf is made as thin as it is possible
to make it. Science has also made
wonderful progress in your business.
?or instance, look at this coffee. Is it
possible for science to make it any thin- s. ler
than it is?"?Texas SifUngs. '
"Darling," she whispered,'- as she
itood besiae his chair and rubbed the:
)ald spot on his head in the gentlest
nanner, "why this gloom tor night?"
'Effie," ho replied, in a broken voice,
'are you prepared to hear bad news?'1
Yes?no! What can it be?" "I am
llLUl il UU UUU CXXV-. AAWtV ?/Via %1*-J u
fill probably witness my financial
uin." "0, no! no! I can save you;
res, I can save you!":' ."How?". "I'll
it once issue cards and invitations for
>ur wooden wedding, which* is only
ieven days away. We'll invite at least
>00 of our friends, each one of whom
v21 be bound to send a present Next
lay you can sell the whole business to
;ome corner-grocer and secure enough
ash to carry you through- . Hold on
or eight days, Richard, and' we'll be
ong on pork and short on rolling-pin3
md - potato-mashers."? Wall : Street
Yetcs. y
An Honest Beggar. 1
A benevolent lady investigated the
vants of some professional beggars tho
>ther day.
"Where is the the blind man?" she
Lsked of a little 2-irl she met at the
loor of the tenement house.
"He's readin' dcr paper, mmn \
"Ah! And where is the deaf man?"
"He's talkin' politics wid de bntch-7
sr."
"And what has become of the paraytic?"
"He's abed, mam."
"Well, that's strange. He ought to
ye running a race," replied the lady,
iarcasticaily. "He is the only honest
>eggar in the building. Why is he in
"Because he's dead, mum,"?Drake's
Traveler's Magazine. ^