Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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A Family Companion, Devoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c. Vol. XI. WEDNESDAY MORNING, JUNE 30, 1875. No. 26. THE HERA LD IS PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY MORNING, it Xew berry,4 S. C. BY TH09. F. GRENEKERt .Editor and Proprietor. rerms, $~2.50.per ofnnuMi jnvariably in Advance. The aer Is smopped at the expiration of time fot wlicit is paid. B7 The ~4mark denotes expiration of sub scription. [p,rom the uion-Herald.] CALLING ]DOODLES. BT meS. X. W. 5TnUTTON. *Sitting on the cool verandah, Fronting this old home of mine, Oft will thought and memery wander Back to days of "auld lang syne." Fragrance from my tiny garden. Where old fashioned flowers blooms Soothes the heart time cannot harden With an ancient loved perfumeO. And the l*.ttle dear one kneeling In the garden walk I see, scCalling doodles," is unsealing Long closed pages now for me. when the summer sun was shining, Oft I've knelt with cheeks aflame, Calling doodles-ne'er divining Why the silly doodles came. Days once spent in castle building Xemlry now brings back to me Days when hope was grandLv gilding M1ansions I would never see. Days of youth and daYs Of Pleasur, Days when an unspotted name Was the sacred, priceless treasure Son from father hoped to claim. Days when Ithonor" had a meaning, Spoken by a manly tongue; Actons seldom needed screenin, Justice not from terror wrung; When fantastic bits of dry ioods , Blades of straw and rooster tails Were not style-nor maidens owing Be -t to %+& thiotdVeils. THE HOUSHHOLD ANGEL# -0 She never dreamed that she was a heroine; she had no thought how white and sweet the angel of her womanhood was that made an humble poverty-stricken home the shelter of her aged grand mother and her young brothers and sisters, and by patient labor and constant self-sacrifice brought around them conditions that en abled them, these younger ones, to prepare for a brighter lot in life than hers had been. But she was a heroine; she was an angel in the guise of very humble womanhood. She was only sixteen years old, this Judith Marston, when at one fe!l swoop of a disease born of poverty and wretchedness, father and mother and two lads eight and twelve years of age died, and Judith was left with four little ones and her blind grandmother dependent on her. She was only sixteen, but not for a moment did any thought of shirking what she looked upon as her manifest busi ness enter her mind. Grandmoth er, Carrie, Lucy, and the little twin boys, only five years old, Benny and Joseph, must be taken care of-and there was no one but Judith to do it. How was it to be done? "Judith," said the missionary who had visited them during the illness of the family, "I think the best thing you can do is to let me et the little ones into the Orphan Asylum, and then you might per haps be able to take care of the ld lady; but I do not see how you can take care of six people." Judith spoke very low and qui etly, but there was a decision in her manner that put an end to ar gument: "Mr. Bogart, grandmother has lost enough already; it would break her heart to be parted from the little ones, and I shall try to keep them together as mother would have done. If I do not suc eed, it will not be my fault, but I shall try." "How, Judith ?" "I do not know, sir, yet, but I feel sure that when any one is as etermined as I am, God will find a way for them." The next week found Judith and her little brood in a tenement ven more dilapidated than the ne she had left, up two more lights of stairs and occupying nly two small rooms instead of our. Everything that could be spared of furniture was sold and nly the barest necessaries kept. The sewing machine, that her mo ther had used, and taught her to se, she kept. When all her little ousehold arrangements w e r e ade and the children sent to. school, she said, "Grandmother we have one blessing in these rooms, they are light, and they have the morning sun. It issuch a comfor t to know that while yon knit you can sit in the sun-it is so good for you. Now 1 am going to Laz rowitch & Jacobs', to run a ma hine on water-proof cloaks and such work. They pay five dollars a week, and are civil men, the girls say.. Hours are from eight till half-past five ; and then I shall try to get work at home for the evenings. Carry and Lucy can wash the dishes and tidy the rooms before school, and we will try to get along." Tears stood in the grandmoth er's blind eyes as she put her hand on Judith's head and blessed her. "It is a hard lot you have, Judy," she said. "Not half as hard as yours gran ny, not half as hard as many a young girl has to bear. And I am so thankful, dear, that the children are good and that father and moth brought us up so carefully. They did the best they could." Judith found her task an ardu ous one. Rest she never knew. Up with the dawn she arranged matters at home for the day, be fore she went to the shop, and when her day's work for Lazero witch & Jacobs was finished, a new one commenced at home. When she could obtain sewing to do after hours she did that, when she could not she was never idle; there was mending and making to do to keep grandmother and the children com fortable and herself in decent trim for her work, and it was sel dom that she had more than six hours rest out of twenty-four. "Judith Marston is always as neat and tidy as if she had just stepped out of a show case," said one of the girls to another as they ate their lunch one day, "but she never wears a ribbon or a ruffle on her dress, not the sign of ani ornament, only the litttle p1ain collar and cuffs. I should think she would try to be like other girls." The young woman who said this, wore a soiled ruffled al paca dress trailing some inches upon the ground and plentifully encrusted with mud; her hair was puffed and frizzed and ornamented with a dirty pink ribbon, while about her neck was a ruffle that had once been white, fastened with a bow to match that in her hair. "Judith Marston," she call ed out, "why don't you dress like folks ? Are you going to turn Quakeress ? You never wear a ribbon or a bit of trimming on your dress; and that plain straw hat you wore all last winter. Don't you care for nice things ?" Judith flushed a little as she answered, "Yes, Kitty I care for nice things, but I cannot afford to buy anything but what is necessa ry and I haven't time to spend in making up my things any other way than plainly." Another girl spoke up and said, "Don't you know girls that Judith Marston has a family to support. I guess if we had six people to provide for we wouldn't look as, well as she does." It soon came to be understood that Judith had no time for any of the amusements of other young girls. She devoted herself so ear nestly to her work, that her em ployers learned to appreciate her faithfulness and thoroughness, and when the slack season'arrived she was the last hand discharged. But oh! that slack season-the poor sewing girls know how much it means. Judith did what she could to prepare for it; but work so hard as she might, it was very little she could put by -after the rent was paid, and the barest ne cessaries purchased. Grandmo ther sometimes earned a few shil lings by her knitting, which she always handed over to Judith, and this Judith always put in a little silk bag by itself. "If granny is ill, she shall have something to buy comforts with," she said. When school vacation came, the little girls were taught to sew and to do cooking and prepare for use fulness-but many days there were when hunger was not satisfied and Judith's hxeart ached that she could not provide better for her charge. Carrie was a very bright child and devoted to her books. Fre quently she came home with com mendations from her teachers. She stood high, almost first in all her classes. After two years had passed and Carrie was fourteen years old, the grandmother said, one day, "Judith, it seems to me Carrie has had schooling enough, and ought to be helping you now; it makes my heart ache to have you work so hard ; the boys are getting big and eat more and wear out more clothes, and so are the girls and it makes just so much more for you to do." "Well, granny, I'll speakto Car rie and see what she says. 1Ihave an idea that she wlould like to be a teacher, and if that is so, I want her to bo one, no matter how hard I have to work for it." That nightJudith said: "Carrie, I see you've been studying hard all vacation, every chance you've had. Now tell me, dear, would you like to be a teacher ?" "0 sister," answered the young girl, "that is just what I am trying to fit myself for ; Mr. Johnston, our principal, told me last term that I had the gift, and if I would only prepare myself for it, he had no doubt I would succeed but I have never said anything about it, for I have felt that since you have to work so hard Iought to be earn ing something to help you. I can not do it in less than two years if I am to be a teacher." "My dear," said Judith, "we must think of what will be the best for you and the children in the end, not of the present comfort. You must commence going to school again with the opening term. - Lu cy, what are you going to do ? I mean when you quit school. While we are about it we may as well see what plans the little girl has." "Well, sister, I am the best scholar in my class in spelling and grammar, and I know all the rules for punctuation. Martha Jones says her sister has learned type setting and is making twelve dol lars a week. Now, I don't want to teach; I never could have pa tience like Carrie, but if you'd let me go and learn type setting I could get a place where Jenny Jones is, and I could begin next week. If I'm smart I can begin to earn wages, Jenny says, in six months-she did and I guess I'm as quick as she is if I'm not as old. I'll do my very best, and then I cn heln wron talre care of cranny and the boys. I wonder what the boys will be." Said Benny, "I'll be a butcher and have plenty of meat. We'll have roast beef and roast turkey every day." Said Joseph, "I'll keep a gro cery, and granny shall have all the tea she wants, and .'ll have lots o' goodies." The years passed on. Lucy was as good as her word, at the end of a year she was earning wages and helping bear the bur dens of the family. After grad uating, Carrie was advised to go to the high school and her sister insisted it should be so. "It will be better in the end," said Judith. And Judith was right; at the time I write Carrie is twenty-one years old and has a principal's place in one of the ward schools. Lucy is proof-reader for a daily paper; and the little boys having changed their minds as to occupation are both learning t h e machinist's trade. Judith at twenty-five is fore woman in the work room of one of the largest manufactories of ladies' apparel in New York, and is look ed up to by her little family as the -angel of the household. Grandmother still sits by the sun ny window, but it is in a comforta ble house, and roses, heliotrope and mignionette, waft their fra grance over her as she knits socks for her boys. (Christian Intelligencer, 15setUR&tnU. THE TWO LITTLE PUPPIES. "I can't stand it any longer l" said Mrs. Jones, as she stumbled, for the fourth time within an hour, over two puppies who were roll ing about on the floor. "We have two grown-up dogs, a cat and a parrot, and these puppies are only a bother. Noboby wants to buy them, nobody even wants them as a gift; so, Jemmy, you must do what I have told y:>u a dozen times before-take them away and drop them over the bridge." "Oh, mother, I want them to play with," said Jemmy. But Mrs. Jones was resolute this time, and slowly and reluctantly Jemmy made ready a stout bag and tumbled the roly poly little puppies in it. He hated his errand, but still he started on it, for there was no other way to do. As he trudged along the lane to the bridge he met little May Mor ris, with her sun-bonnet tumbled back from her brown curls. She couldn't theink what in the world Jemmy had in that heavy brown bag, so she asked him, and he told her it was puppies, and then he had to tell her what he was going to do with them. "Oh, you bad, wicked boy !" she exclaimed,looking at him with two reproachful blue eyes. "I shouldn't have thought you would do such a thing. Drown those darling lit tle puppies!I Why Jemmy Jones!I" "Well, I can't help it," said Jemmy ; "my mother won't have 'em under her feet any longer, and nobody wants them." "I want them," said pitiful little May Morris. "My mamma will let me keep them, I know, and I'll take them home." "All right," said Jemmy, glad to get rid of his unpleasant errand. "You may have 'em. But the bag is too heavy for you to carry; there's a stone in it." "Well, then, take it out," said May. So Jemmy opened the bag to take the stone out, but while he was getting hold of it out jumped the two little puppies, running this way and that. But May ran after one and Jemnmy after the other, so pretty soon they caught them, and then May put them both in her little checked apron and held them tight. "Now I am going straight home," she said, as she hurried off toward a neat white house a little way up the lane. In the house her father was ly ing down, for he was sick, and her mo.ther was taking care of him. They both looked surprised enough when May came in flushed and eager, and, opening her apron, let puppies out on the bed. "There !" she said, triumphant ly. "Jemmy Jones was going to drown these two little darling doggies, and I made him give them to me.. They're mine." "Buht, my dear child," exclaimed her mother, "we don't want them around. You must take them right back to Jemmy Jones." But the tears came into May's blue eyes, and her father, who was sick, and hated to see clouds on his little daughter's face, said: "Oh, let the little girl keep them. They will be pretty pets for her to play with." So May made a bed in an old box in the corner of the wood room. She put in some shavings to make it soft, and then an old torn shawl to cover the shavings, and then she put in the two little puppies, who huddled close to gether and went to sleep. The next day a little girl named Sally Coit came to see May, and when she heard about the puppies she said she would like one of them for her own. So May took her to see them. Sally looked at them both, and then said: "I want this one with the brown feet." Now this was the prettiest of the two puppies, and May began to object. She 'said if she gave one away she was afraid the other would feel bad and cry. But her mother said to never mind that; it would soon get over it, and they couldn't keep but one any how. "But, mamma," whispered May in her mother's ear, "she has pick ed out the prettiest." "Oh, may be not," said her mo ther, cheerfully. "You can't tell which is the prettiest when they are so little. Let me look at them." But when Mrs. Morris came to look at them she saw that Sally really had picked out the prettiest one, and then she began to feel a little sorry for May, for she thought she really ought to have the first choice. So what do you think Mrs. Morris did? She went to the work-basket and found a pretty pink ribbon,' and she took that and tied it around the other puppy's neck-the- puppy that didn't have brown feet. This one was black all over, and the bright ribbon wss very becoming to him. So by and by, when Sally was ready to go home, and went to the box to get her puppy, she saw the little black one with the pink rib. bon round his neck, and changed her mind all in a minute.. She said he -was the prettiest, and she wanted him, and off she carried him in her apron, May's little brown-footed puppy cried for two or three nights, till finally Mrs. Morris put an old fur cap in the box, and then the puppy nestled up by that and slept soundly. I suppose it thought it was another-puppy. It was a playful little thing, and as it grew cider May taught it to beg on its hind legs and to give its paw. Then she made it a little night-gown and a cap, and the puppy would let her dress it up in them; and when she laid it in her doll's bed it would shut its eyes and g6 to sleep, just as good pup pies ought to do. Its name was Posy. One day Jemmy Jones' mother came to call on Mrs. Morris, and when she saw what an intelligent and pretty dog Posy was she said:; "There, now, that is just such a dog as I should like. He is worth ten times as much as our two great good-for-nothing creatures. Where did you get him ?" "Out of Jemimy's bag," said May, demurely. And then Mrs. Jones remem bered, and had not another word to say. As for Sally's dog, he grew up to be a first-rate watch dog, only he barked almost too much and too furiously. And wherever Sally went, he went too; and if any one stopped to speak to her on the street he would almost bark him self to pieces. But Sally loved him, and she named him Diamond, because, she said, he was just as precious as all the diamonds in the world, and so he was. [ Christian Union. -WAsHING NOT TAKEN IN.-A good old minister of one of our New England Baptist churches was agreeably surprised by the intelligence from one of his flock that five individuals had expressed a strong desire on the next Sun day to have the baptismal rite performed upon themselves. .After its performance, however, he was somewhat surprised and chagrined that only one of the five joined the society of which he was pastor. A few Sundays after the same elder waited on him with the in telligence that ten more desired immersion. "And how many of themi will join the society?" queried the minister. "Two, I regret to say, are all we can depend on," was the reply. "Very well ," said the good old man, "you may as well inform the other eight that this church doesn't take in washing." [Boston Bulletin. To neglect at any time prepara tion for death is to sleep on our. .post at a siege; t tB iti$i old aga is a testel -'I A -~ Hulsen gave the director of the or Dhestra a signal; soon the thrilling bones of the Russian National Hymn resounded through the .rowded opera house; the, three Russians, in their national cos ,ume, came upon the stage, and kneeling before the singer, accord ng to Russian manners, present 3d, hanging by fastenings, the lostly and carefully guarded bon luet. For a few moments the feted )rima-donna stood like a statue, razing motionless upon the floral vork of art; and then her joyful imotions found vent in an abun lantshowerof tears; Theaudience tad rapidly comprehended the sit tation, and thunder-like storms of pplause re-echoed through the iouse long after the curtain had allen. And verily they had cause or such a demonstrtation ; for up o this time the gift of the Nobil ty Club of St. Petersburg is able o stand upon record as at once he largest and costliest ever made o prima-donna on the stage. -From THE ALDINE. HABITS OF AUTHORS. When Dickens laid out for him elf a system of literary work and >rced himself into a rigid adhe ence to it, spending just so many ours daily at his desk, whether i the mood or not, and whether ecomplishing anything or not; lodding away at composition in 6s matter-of-fact a manner as a aborer would shovel at an en ankment,-he set an excellent ixample for all writers, but one vhich a majority of them would ind it impossible to imitate. No rreater diversity, no sharper con rast can be found than appear in he modes of composition, the re Luiremente as to surroundings, tate of feeling, and necessary con litions for freedom in working of lifferent - authors, as shown by heir own statements or those of )iographers and personal friends. Walter Scott felt no special need >f reconsidering or revising what ie had written; but having dash id off novel or poem-he sent off ne after another in rapid succes ion such as had not been heard f before his day. Where would he Waverly novels have been, ind should we ever have had the ong list if he had been subjected o the test which Alcott, in his 'Concord Days," lays down in his 'code of composition ?"-to wit: 'Burn every scrap that stands not he test of all moods of composi ion ; such~ lack longevity. What s left gains immensely. Such is he law. Very little of what is hought admirable at the writing iolds good over night. Sleep on rour writjig- take a walk over it; 'eview It of an afternoon; digest t after a meal; let it sleep in your Irawer a twelvemonth," The impulsive habit belongs to jome writers whom we should east suspect of it. if there has een one woman writer in Ameri ~a who was pre-eminent for a ~trong masculine understanding, ~ritical insight, coolness and im artiality in her judgments, and bhe power to put her own person ~lity aside, it was Margaret Ful er; yet, of her, when especially ~mployed as critic on the New fork Tribune, Mr. Greeley comn plained that she could only write 'when in the vein" and although iew books demanded her atten ion, and the utmost promptness was desirable, she waited day af ~er day to feel in the right mood or writing, and her criticisms were consequently sometimes too ate. She did, in fact, distrust herself in writing; her pen was a 'non-conductor," she said; she was subject to pain, and affected by the most subtile influences; sometimes wrote in bed, and be ieved that she "could understand ~nything better when she was ill." ~er "Summer on the Lakes" seems ~o have been written under more tranquilizing circumstances, and ifter a more orderly way than 'as usual with her. "Every day," ihe says. "I rose and attended to bhe many little calls which are al rays on me. * * Then, about leven, I would sit down to write it my window, close to which is he apple-tree lately full of blos oms and now of yellow birds. )pposite'me was Del Sarto's 'Ma onna;' behind me 'Silenus hold nig in his arms the infant Pan.' I elt very content with my pen, ay daily bouquet. and my yellow irds. About five 1 would go out nd walk till dark." Another woman, of the highest istinction in science, Mrs. Somer ille, gives us, in that modest, raightforward way.which makes1 or narrative so charming, an ac ount of her habit of writing. A b- a trne a were her subjects, slhe c A GIFT FROM ST. PETERS BURG. For stage princesses of fame there can be no more thankful pub lic than the members of the Nobit ty Club in the city on the Neva. As the papers inform us, Adelina Patti, at the close of her engage ment in the St. Petersburg Italian Opera, received from the above named club a breast-pin con sisting of a pear-sized pearl, set in thirty-one diamonds, its value esti mated at seventy-five thousand francs. In reading this notice we remembered a yet more costly gift from the same club, the bestowal of which upon the receiving prima donna recalls such interesting and happy moments that the relation t of them at this present seems well worth while. Seven years ago, Pauline Lucca ended with immense applause an engagement in St. Petersburg.- . Alreadysome weeks she had thrill- i ed again in the Berlin Royal The atre, like a nightingale escaped t from an icy cage. Then, one day there presented themselves to the General Intend ant of the Royal Plays, Herr von Hulsen, three men from St. Peter's metropolis, who appeared as a gift delegation from the Nobility Club in that city. The speaker stated that he and his two companions b had been sent to Berlin by extra train to give to Fraulein Lucca, in acknowledgment of her ser vices to the highest tastes of the Russian aristocracy, a little bou quet. The embassy asked Herr von Halsen to give his advice in performing in the most appropri ate manner the delicate mission. The Herr General Intendant de clared himself ready to make the necessary arrangements immedi. ately; although, actuated by a very natural curiosity, he wished first to see with his own eyes the "little bouquet," for whose trans port and delivery three men and perhaps an entire train had been deemed necessary by the givers. The speaker pointed through a window to the street; before the door stood a wagon, and upon it was an elegant circular box of con siderable dimensions, which con tained the bouquet. Herr von Hulsen ordered the box to be brought to his room with great care. Here the cover of the recep tacle was romoved, and what be came visible? A bouquet three feet in diameter, composed of the most beautiful white camelias--in the middle of winter time-the fringe, white satin, embroidered with gold; the Catholic belief of $he receiver being noticed by a giant. cross of fragrant violets, that lay in the bottom of the camelias, like a child in the lap of its mother. As the centre of the boquet, like the black~ spot in the target, ap peared a tiny crown of fifty large diamonds, that fairly sparkled fire in the darkness. The handle was bound with two whit@ sattn rib bons of a hand's width, with frin ges of real gold; and in each rib bon was embroidered artistically one of the names of the most aris tocratic club members. Herr von THalsen was visibly1 astonished at the beauty and cost liness of the fragrant floral pro duction, and he informed the dep utation that the presentation could not by any means dare to be an ordinary one, Under the seal of the profoundest secrecy, the ne cessary arrangements were made.1 For the evening of the appointed day, Nicolai's opera, "The Merrie1 Wives of Windsor," was an nounced, in which Pauline Lucca, as Mrs. Fluth, excels..- The Royal] Opera singer, Herr Edward Bost,] basso, who, as Sir John Falstaff, shares her laurels, was admitted into the secret. "At midnight hour," the box was taken to the Opera House, and for the time] placed in one of its dressing-rooms, under lock and key. At the end of the opera, Mrs.1 Fluth has to say about these wordsi to Sir John Falstaff: "Sir John, we have been very unlucky, we could not meet. My knight I will not make you again, but my crea-1 ture you will always stay." Fal staff replies: "I begin to perceive 4 that I have been made to play the fool." Here he continued, of I his own accord ; "In spite of that, dear little woman, I have no hate ( for you; and as proof that I al- ( ways esteem you, you will receive i from me before parting, a little I bouquet of camelias and violets, i which, in spite of the cold weath- I er, I have ordered for you direct a from St. Petersburg." The "litttile Pauline" looked d wonderingly with her great eyes i at Sir John, in his mysterious ex- a tenmpor brchand~ the .audience lI $lsow/ibeatlesly for.what .c MlIv~ Here Herr ~Q a did not find it necessary to seclude herself. She had a singular power of abstraction, which made her "independent of outward circum stances." She rose early, she says, and made the needful arrange ments for her family, then wrote, subject to interruptions of visitors, who had "come to spend a few hours" with her. "However, I learned by habit to leave a sub ject and resume it again at once, like putting a mark into a book I might have been reading. In another place she says: "I had, and still have, determined per. severance, but I soon found that it was in vain to occupy my mind beyond a certain time. I grew tired, and did more harm than good; so, if I met with a difficult point, * * I left it, took my work or some amusing book, and resumed it when my mind was fresh." She took for this recrea tion poetry, and afterward novels. -From THE ALDINE for April. WANTED TO GO. In the Detroit Police Court, ae cording to a report of the faithful chronicler of the Free Press, An drew Crane said he wanted to be sent up, and he didn't care wheth er it was for thirty days or a thousand years. "Kinder discouraged, eh ?" ask ed his Honor. "I care not what becomes of me !" sadly exclaimed the prisoner. "I'm way down the bank, and I don't believe I'll live long." "Take heart, my boy!" cried the court, as he bit into another apple. "Strawberries and cream will be along before you know it." "I don't care nothing for straw berries and cream," anpwered the prisoner. "But don't you want to hear the end of the Beecher scandal ?" "Not a Beech!" was the sad an swer. "Think of harvest a p p1e s, Fourth of July and soda water." "What's them to me ?" was the mournful inquiry. "Summer is almost here, my boy!i Don't you want to go out among the grassy meadows and listen to the babbling brooks ?" "Nary bab." "Well, I'll have to send you up. Shall I make it sixty days ?" "Sixty days!" And when the sad man entered the buggy the boys sang: "Oh, why should a fellow feel sad When it's easy enou~gh to feel gay?" "Oh, why should he go for to die When there's every inducement to stay?" A spelling bee was held in a Maine. town the other night, at which the names of' the lakes were given out. The first name propounded was Lake Pongug kwftgognug. The speller looked wildly at the pedagogue a moment, when bracing himself more firmly in hischair, he loosened four of his front teeth in an attempt to spell it. He inserted a surperfluous g. Lake Hokakmoagkeagmuggervti retired another speller and nearly unhinged his tongue. Number three wrestled with Lake Wam muniff'pmpgtraiwf until his eyes hung out, and then resigned his seat with a look of blank amaze ment. She omitted the final f. The next speller nearly dislocated his neck and the back of his chair on Lake Chickakikkukmosgmusk noxon, and floundered down and out. He left out a k., Number five essayed Lake Amoskaggugfractw mwstoxswippiwungaggoxon, and split the back of his coat open from the waist to the collar, dis located his jaw-bone, and splin tered the chair posts. The referees said he didn't put in enough w 's. The next word was Lake Amog wofwtfxwexonwxtoxoxotikkikok okkikkoxfxwokkoxwotwswagger knowokxvkofvkwithtfwhof. Upon hearing this the class simulta neously arose and left the stand. They said they would rather go home with whole jaws than with the best dictionary ever construct ed-and home they went. "Ish der some ledder here for me ?" inquired a German at the general delivery window of the Post Office recently. "No-none here," was the. reply. "Yhell dot ish queer," he continued, getting his head into the window ; "my neighbor gets sometimes dree led ders in one day, und 1 get none. [ bays more taxes as he does, und E hat never got one ledder yet. How come dose dings?" (Detroit Free Press. It is folly to call the joys of childhood the greatest. They are ike the earliest flower of spring, the crocus, lovely and richly tint id, but small and scentless. It is umimer that brings forth flowers1 C matnrad snlandor and fragrance.4 ADVERT181INC mAn'911 Advertisements inserted at the rdef$1 .90 per square--one inh-or Ams inasrtoop and 75c. for each subsequent Insertion, oul column advertisements tenper ceut on AbOvs Notices of meetings, obituaries and tribuh of respect, samerzates per sqnare as ordhUMST advertisements. Special no*ies In lobal colm 20 eentS per line. Advertisements not zAiA*ft Se um ber of inserdofnt *Ml be kept In M forbid and charged zeeoidihVy. Spechal contracts =a&.e A-i~ mdver fisers,wihTc.4d~ojd)v rawe. DonemmtNanuun fp* * ~TermsCahL-' THE HOPP]IR QMUMO HE COMETH) FROM WMzN0z'-j"-ff0W-~ -A ROCKY MOU14"ArN P~OA EPIC. The grasshopper; HIe cometh; He cometh numerouby; He bringeth hifarig-' Also his relatives, And bis friends; Likewise his -mother-i"*j' And her friends; As wellas.alththatehe~, And they are legions. And no green -thing,.,reaM. M. where the hoppery hath. be"n His pathway is the ltbonio of desolation. The ranchman mourneth- ibilm' ' green fields that were,b& ; ' Mayhap he sweareth; Possibly he saith audi.ly k"' crieth out aloud-dam. What careth the hopper-ras? ; It troubleth--him not.. Ask the prophets. of Kaua. - And the wiemenof And they Wi% anmwer Bat the Teliet 'oemmttja lifteth up his voice adele hopper blessid. He comieth ii the,1teu - days; In sndreig~itl~ outside the town. "I reek'n you'll know that stranger, when you see itag~in. The ockypant of that ~ was the first man Horrus Gre~!vr