The Newberry herald. (Newberry, S.C.) 1865-1884, November 03, 1875, Image 1
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7"$ ,t,,,.i.,. Vo XI. WDNESDAY MORIG, NOVE~MBER 3, 1875. No . Done , eat...ndDpa
A SKETCAL1
TIW sky is blue and the bright above,
the trees have donned their soft gr
Ad prattling o its lasy love,
The river Ww.te son's CrSSe.
Withia me eaoner obs wood
Wher the in sines s-mt lagSIfnter,
There sit a lady and a painter.
ha.works the daygtides by,
A~wi~~ahtMsigeshes
TbW speaking,b Egsadown his brushes:
ethi $stdiavel thw e site,
ih'wg nedn slender,
Fafs Wrough the leaves with Atfl gleam
This light my skiR can catch and render.
ef givmnta noht
sve6frtbUtm even,
path~e arth siad not h1gh Heaven."
BY M. E. CHALON.
faety Ore stood alone at the
garden-gate. The last rays of the
am were pouring their dy
}idiAn4 through the green
th stately tree that
towered above her head, kindling
into brighter bloom the rosy flush
awn'herwoekgand the sparkling
Wt Ier'deep blue eyes. Be
w her lay a landscape of une
9lbeavAyre.glendent with the
"im beaty of the reigniag
bummer.
But Kitty was evidently not
thinking of the lovely prospect,
for her changing color and ever-'
lsdae o "pression told
zt a abject of far deeper interest.
Nei gae was directed down the
rod t h a t stretched sinuously
- through the shady trees toward
the villag. Soon her eager
ieh5lag was evidently plasur
y Anded, for. in the distanoe
appenred the figure of a young
man rapidly approaching. She
opened the gate and s pr a ng
sygtto stgit himi.
"h,y dar Kitty," said the
young man, as they met, "you
klie;fairy with that white
enveloping you like a
nist and the glimmer of the sun
Tk ftoating about you," punctua
tig Isis sentenee with kisses.
laus you'll finl me
e tbing far more substaatial,"
laughed Kitty.
. 'So I perceive," sad-he, saucily,
as his arm stole around her waist.
- thee, they strolled
ths biliiadt parterre of
.itty- was the only daughter of
~ey.erchant, and had to
come to Brookville to spend the
smmer with her cousin, Bella
.Yiatoa. Blla's home was the
little picturesque cottage standing
in the centre of the blooming gar
Mbd wgae Sowery walks Ki&ty
was now strolling. It was here she
had me,a Roger Lincoln, the son
of a neighboring farmer, and be
fore the new moon, which lighted
Kiteseganyt Brookville,
had waxed and waned, she had
surrendered to him her heart's
best love.
"So you have received a sum
ins home, Kitty," said Roger,
Sjtoy retired to a seat in a vine
embowed sammer house.
Yes,-Roger, and I must.go next
MWeg4 dearestI~ will write to
your father to-mnorrow and tell
him of our love. I will then ac
eompanyOu home and receive
his. answer."
*Kitty turned -,1le and heaved a
tremulous sigh, for she well knew
what a torrent of anger would
...esit her when her parents learn
Wd>Cat she loved the son of a far
mers She had not imparted her
apprehensions to her lover, for
she feard t pain kia
"Why do you sigh, Kitty; you
surely~ do not regret your plighted
?roth to me ?"
"Ah, no, Roger, I was only
thinking of meeting mamma, and
--and-". said poor Kitty treni
*bling with solicitude.
"She surely will not be displeas.
ed, Kitty. She does not always
expec to keep yon with her."
"JNo, 0 no," said Kitty, hesits
tingly, still thinking of the awft
eyes of mamma.
Perplexed at her sudden and it
expressible change of demeanoi
Roger grew grave, almost sad.
"Kitty," said he, taking be
hand, "have you been trifling wit
me."
Absorbed in her thoughts c
anxiety respecting the effect whic
the announcement of her engag4
ment would - have upon her pi
rents, Kitty failed to. notice th
constratned manner of her lovei
and scarcely heeded his words.
"Trilled," she repeated absentlj
"What do you mean ?"
A cold sweat broke out upon th
brow of Roger. He had a vor;
jealous, suspicious nature, and th
apparent indifference of Kitty t4
on a subject of such intense intez
est to him seemed proof of abatei
love, and perhaps of desire t,
throw off all further connectioi
and allegiance to him.
He arose hastily from her sid
and said:
"Kitty,. it is as I feared. Yoi
do not'wish me to write. Yol
have never truly loved me. Yoi
have led me to place all my hope
of future happiness in your keep
ing that you might in the en
coldly and wantonly repulse me.
He spoke in a hasty, impassionei
voiee. Kitty,amazed and confound
ed, said not a word, but stare<
blankly at him.
"You do not answer," he re.sum
ed. "0 Kitty, Kitty I I cannot,
will not think that you have thui
basely deluded me. You loved m4
once did you not ?"
"0 Roger, Roger, what do yoi
mean ?" almotU gasped Kitty. "
do not-anderstead."
"Kitty," said he fiercely, "an
swer me truly, have you deceive4
and tiied with me all this time ?
Kitty's pride was touched. He t
thta taunt her with such a crue
question, when she had bravely dc
termined to face the reproachei
of her mother for his sake.
Making a violent effort to con
trol her rising-tears, she said, witi
spirit:
"You have no right to'speak tV
me in that heartless manner. I
cannot be that you are serious.
respect myself -too highly to re
ply."
The demnon of doubt and dis
trust possess6d him, or he woul4
have paused to consider his eause
less wager, but thinking that sh
proey evaded his question, hi
sa dondhimaisIftohis blind paa
soin and exclaimed :
"Deceived! wantonly ! cruelly
o Kitty I have loved you madl;
-ay, worshipped you, adored yo
-and this is my return ! I wa
blind bat at last you have opene<
my eyes to the truth. Farewell
farewell forever, and may heave:
deal more mercifully witf foi
than you have with me," and turn
ing hastily on his heel, ho rushet
from her presence.
Kitty half arose, and with ageu
ture of entreaty strove to call him
back to her. But the suddenness c
the blow, and the awful words
"farewell forever," ringing in he
ears, so overwhelmed her that fo
the moment she lost all power <
speech. Tears soon mereifull;
ame to her r'elief, and her whol
frame shook with the violence <
her suppressed agony.
"What is it ?" she exclaimed,"
cannot understand it ! I trifle wit
Roger!i 0, no-no! It is som
fearful mistake. He will com
again. 0, yes, he will surely com
again, and all will yet be well," an
she dried her eyes~and strove t
glean a little comfort from th
thought of his return.
A week slipped by and Roge
never once sought Kitty whom b
had so cruelly wronged. At time
he felt.that he had been led astra
by his blinding passion, but the
he would exclaim:
"Why, then, did she not repi
when I opened the way for an en
planation. JNo- no--she isfalse an
fickle as fair ; but she shall u<
be gratified by seeing my suffe
ing. I will remain away froi
her presence until I can cootr<
my disappointed, insulted loy
She shall never know how h4
perfidy has unmanned me."
Tbe .wee, w.s a period of il
tense anxiety to Kitty. Uphe
I by the feverish hope of Eeein
him, she passed the day in eag
i- expectant watching, and, disa
-, pointed, she went to her bed ea<
night weeping the bitter tears <
r hope deferred. This continuou
h suspense, together with the efo
she was compelled to exert to hi
f her distress from her cousin an
h the rest of the family, wore upc
- her health and spirits.
. The little village of Brookvil
e was situated near the banks of
deep narrow river which flowe
into the Hudson. The followin
. week there was to be a grand pi
nie in one of the many grov<
e that skirted its shores.
r The picnic had been in conten
a plation some weeks, and all th
young people far and near, wer
merrily anticipating t h e da3
I Roger and Kitty had agreed t
) join the party, and Kitty noi
a hoped that thus- they might bc
come reconciled.
) The eventful day dawned brigh
and cloudless,and early in the alle
i noon the road leading to th
a grove was filled with merry laugi
i ing girls and their lovers gayl
s hastening to the grounds.
- Poor Kitty dressed herself i
I her holiday attire with mingle
' feelings of hope and dread misgih
I ings. She had made a confedc
. rate of her cousin Bella, so far a
I to tell her that Roger had parte
from her in anger. And Bell
- who saw her cousin's distress c
[ mind, forebore to joke or anno
i her and delayod her own depar
i ure to the picnic. But as the hal
hours slipped quickly by and h
i did not appear, she sought he
[ cousin and said:
"Come, dear Kitty, you'll no
- see him to-day, I fear; at least, b
I evidently does not intend to com
for you. Do not sorrow any mor
> for him, he is not worthy of i
I but put on your hat and com
- with me, and have a merry da3
in spite of Roger Lincoln's neg
lect."
- "No, Bella," said Kitty, in a di
a spondent tone, "I cannot go.
am too heavy-hearted."
S"0, nonsense Kitty I Don't l<
him destroy all your happines
Swith his folly and madness ; an
-besides, perhaps he will be ther
and seek you and take opportun
ty to beg your forgiveness."
This laat consideration decide
her. Yes, perhaps he would t
there, and happily there might I
some chance given her to deman
of him an explanation of his col
duct. So, donning her hat an
light mantle, she soon formed on
in the gay company assembled bi
neath the noble old trees. But (
what a day of agony she speni
Roger did not come, and to hic
her grief she had to affect a mirt
and gayety that she dared n<
abate. The day flew past c
heavy wings to Kitty, but swiftl:
too swiftly for the rest of tI
party. At last some one propose
to return,. home, saying that
heavy shower was fast coming u
pointing out a dark, ominous cloi
in the west; but all rejected ti
r proposal and egaged in boisterot
r merry-making. They prolonge
their stay until a hoarse, rumblie
sound and the patter of a few rai:
drops apprised them of the foc
ishness of their delay.
All was now bustle and exit
ment, everybody striving to gath<
bup his effects in haste; stumblir
e over one another, and adding 1
e each others confusion. Kitty he
e sought a slight eminence whic
d overlooked the river. The cloui
already hung dark and threate
e ing and-the rising wind was las
ing the river into foam. Kitt
r as she gazed over the trouble
e waters, discerned about mridwa
between the shores a small sail-ho;
y with one occupant. Hler hea
n gave a bound of wild apprehensio
and a sickening dread of comnir
y dangersmiotOeher. Rogershekne
- was in the habit of frequent:
d crossing the river, for his fath<
it owned land upon the opposi
r- -shore; and she felt,.although si
n could notyet distinguish his figur
l that it was he in the boat. SI
a. heard her companions call her, b
r she heeded them not, and crouc
ing down at the foot of a stalwa
-tee sa h fastened her eyes up<
d the struggling boat. Here a cou
(g ple of young men found her and
)r were about to expostulate with
p. her for causing such delay, bat
h without a word she pointed with
>f trembling finger to the hapless
is boat.
et "Heaven!" e'xclaimed one, "he
le will be certainly lost. No one
d could manage a boat iM the fierce
n wind and storm that will soon fa
riously burst upon us."
e "Who is it ?" asked another.
a "It's Roger Lincoln," answered
d the first speaker. "I saw him
this morning, and he told mo he
. was going across to-day to super
a intend the cutting down of some
trees. Heaven help him! for no.
. thing elsecan succor him now."
e The wind was steadily increas
e ing, and the rain began to deseend
r. in quick large drops, and they
o strove to persuade Kitty to go
v home with one of their num
. ber. All the girls had gone but
her; but she shook her head
t and- gazed with a white despair
. ing face on the approaching boat.
e Roger % as making every effort to
. reach the shore. Nearer and near
er he came until they could almost'
distinguish his face, and Kitty's
n heart began to beat with renewed
d hope and joy.. 0! the thought to
.|seo him swept away from me so
.suddeny and in anger ! and her
,|heart arose in agonized prayers
d for his safety. Nearer and nearer
a he came. A few moments more and
xf the shore would have been reach
y ed,and then-t,hen all in a moment,
y came a wild, fearful glare of light
r.fning, and a burst of thunder, ac.
e companied by a raging whirlwind.
r When the little party on shore re:
covered from the shock and fearful
t ly gazed upon the now raging riv
e er, the boat had .disappeared.
e Death had relentlessly swept him
e away and set his seal of silence on
, their unhappy quarrel. Kitty was
e borne insensible to the cottage
r, *of her urcle, but never awakened
P- from her stupor. And when,
three days later, they picked up
. the mangled form of Roger Lin
Icoln on the beach, whither it had
been driven by the tide, her heart
thad ceased to beat. They buried
them side by side in the little
d church-yard, whero the mournful
e cypress cast its sombre shade.
We find the following in an ex
dchange,and trust every young man
in this community will profit by a
e careful perusal. Read it and then
0cut it out to hand down to your
posterity :
d"I know a man who is very rich
now, though he was very poor
e when a boy. He said his father
Staught him never to play till all
his work for the day was finished,
Iand never to spend money till he
e had earoed it. Ifhebhad but ahalf
han hour's work to do in a day, he
twas taught to do that the first
thing, and to do it in half an hour.
~After this was done he could play,
eand my young friends all know
d he could play with a great deal
amore pleasure than if he had
the thought of his unfnished work
on his mind. He says he early
eformed the habit of doing every
a thing in its season, keeping every
dthing in. its place, and it soon be
game perfectly easy for him to
do so. It is to such habits that
he owes his present prosperity.
I am very happy to add that he
delights to do good with his
r riches and hi a s many warm
friends.
4 To Boys-.-See here, little boys,
h we want to say a word to you.
Is While we are with you for enjoy
2- ment thickly sprinkled into the
b- web of life, we must not forget
7, our duties as we -go along, nor
d must we get things too badly mix
y ed. We admire the old saying,
it that there is a "time for every
rt thing," we like the saying equally
cn, well, that "everything should be
g done at the proper time." The
w idea that we wish to convey is,
y that you should be regular and
r systematic in your habits, and not
te do in one hour what is claimed
e for another. Always discharge
, your d u t y fully and earnestly,
e whether it be work or play, each
t in its proper time. You will find
1 that this rule will make you be
rt loved and respected and useful
ni mmhb,-s ot soniety.
QUEEN VICTORIA'S HORSES I
AND CARRIAGES.
An American lady abroad de
scribes a visit to the Royal Mews
in London, which she lately in
spected under the escort of one of
her Majesty's courteous gromSmen.
The stables she tells us, are not so
magnificent as are some of the
gold and silver princes of Califor
nia, being of the old style, plain
and simple but kept with exceed
ing neatness and perfect order.
First they'saw the saddle horses
used by the royal family, maids of
honor and visitors at the palace.
These favored animals looked fully
conscious of their elevated condi
tion. They are spirited, delicate,
high-blooded creatures,mostly bay,
with square cut tails, and groomed
to the last degree of cleanliness
and glossiness. In a stable by
themselves are kept two small Rus
sian horses of a very rare breed,
lately sent to the Queen by the
Emperor Alexander. The carriage
horses for ordinary use are all bay,
of a rich, dark shaie, and all
of the pure English breed; but
the horses used on grand State o
casions are of Hanover stock
lager, heavier, majestic and more
grandiose-at least after the Guel
phie idea. The eight cream-color
ed horses. used only to draw the
State .coach of the sovereign, are
mArvols of stately beauty. The ex
istence of such magnificent crea
tures, fit only for show, predestin
ed adjuncts of cumbrous pageantry
and show-moving pomp, almost
justifies royalty of the good old
sort.' Next to the cream-colored
patricians in honor and beauty
are the great black Hanoverian
horses, used for the royal family
and household only on state occa
sions. The harness of the first
are of scarlet and gold; for the last 1
of black gold, and all regally gor
geous. In the coach-houses of the
Royal Mews are shown carriages
of every elegant and luxurious
style and shape, but the great
show of all is the Queen's atate
coach. This, kept apart with a
special attendant, is a mighty af
fair-the House of Hanover on*
wheels.- It is more than twelve
feet in length and~lofty in propor
tion ; it has all sorts of royal em
blazonry-gorgeously p a in t e d
panels, great, gilded figures of
Tritons blowing gilded horns, and
is altogether imposing and resplen
dent with gold and glass, scarlet
velvet and satin cushions and cur
tains. This was built for~ Kirig
George III and Queen Charlotte.1
It is a cumbrous old thing, and
comes out at coronation times, and
sometimes,but rarely, for the open
ing and prorogation of Parliament.
The good, motherly Queen dances
in the hall of Balmoral with her
retainers and household servants,
makes her own tea when out on
pinics, spinsin the cottages of her
tenants, and has herself photo
graphed in the gracious acts-be
stows "warm dlannel petticoats"
on poor old women with her own
hands, and tells ns all about it in
her own book. The Prince of(
Wales goes everywhere, dines with
everybody and drives a drag
for all the world as if he were no
greater man than the President of
the United States. The new court
dress for gentlemen is a simple1
half-military costume. Gaudy liv
eries are going out in high places,
so that lackeys look less like boil
ed lobsters and lizards than for
merly, and it is thought that ere
long the royal state coach will be
remanded. Tritons and all, to
that Valhalla of state coaches, the
first hall in the Kensington Muse- 1
um, and the monarchs of England
will cease to lumber along on
wheels like those of Pharaoh's
chariot, but may drive through
the streets of London, even on
the grandest state occasions, with
celerity, comfort and quiet ele
gance, like other sensible, well-to
do folk.
A young man in Lancaster sent I
a dollar to a firm -in New York
who advertiseda receipt to preventa
bad dreams. He received a small
slip of paper, on which was print- 1
ed, "Don't go to sleep." <
DR. PIERCE ON PIN-BACKS.
The venerable Rev. Lovick
?ierce, D. D., has a long "Farewell
Lddress to Ladies," in the South- "
irn Christian Advocate,- in which t4
le thus forcibly and appropriately Be
>ays his respects to the abomina- U)
.le style of pin-back dresses: - C
The graduates of the Wesleyan d(
Female College have fully verified ct
11 I ever plead in woman's favor c
a to original mental endowments,
out. have utterly failed to establish i0
he moral evidence of agreat mind, ti
y the despising of little things, ti
specially ridiculous fashions, than
vhich nonW more so has ever "
lishonored your sex than the pres- '
nt pin-back fashion. Since 1807, th
6t which time I was stationed at a
Lgsuta, and when tight dresses di
on young ladies was carried so
ar that covering all they aimed "I
t concealment was ignored.- o]
rhis outrage upon womanly pro- y
riety went on until the lacerated I
ense of female modesty left to the
urviving matrons of the day, L
nd the disgust of gentlemen C
vho had a much higher sense L
f woman's place in society than
naking herself the amusement "
f libertines, arrested it by unmis- N
akable denunciation. T h e s e f
hamefuldresses were made tight ti
vittingly. The pattern was as 01
cant as the dress. But now, 19
fter the advance of mental culture h
or sixty-eight years, all that the
ashion-following women h a v e tl
,ained, is plenty of goods for a a
all flowing dress, but pinned-back a
vithout any grace, for a graceful
pinning back, every candid woman fs
vill acknowledge, is a natural im- l
*ossibility. Hence, to make tight, d
o as to meet the most ridiculous
leniand of fashion ever imposed i
in women; it is by pinning back A
grid otherwise ample dress, so as
o force a covered display of close J
vrapped joints and ankle. So has
his mania seized upon our women, 0
hat even elderly ladies, that could ti
kot brook so glaring an exposure, h
vill nevertheless pinback a little. P
ow is this? Why is this? There i
s not a lady in Georgia in whom a
he normal has not been sacrificed b;
is an offering to the abnormal, o0
mut what will admit this pinning U
>ack of dresses up to the tight
>oint is the most supremely ridic-.
ilous and ugly fashion ever taken it
in by our cultivated ladies.
WATCHING ONE's SzrP.-"When ei
:was a boy," said an old man, "we it
iad a schoolmaster, who had an C
idd way of catching the idle boys." C
"One day he called out to- us: t
Boys I must have closer attention r
o your books. The fir-st one that ti
es another idle I want you to in- dL
brm me, and I will attend to the o1
ase.' .lh
"Ah I" thought I to myself, b
there is Joe Simmons, that I-don't fI
ke. I'll watch him, and if I see '
~im look off his books, I'll tell." u,
"It was not long before I saw
oe look off his book, and imme- u:
liately I informed the master." ~
"Indeed!" said he, "how do you 01
now he was idle ?"- o
"1 saw him," said I.
"You did ? And were your eyes it
in your book when you saw
iim ?" "I was caught and I nev
ir watched for idle boys again." ti
If we are sufficiently watchful ti
ver our own conduct we shall ~
ave no timie to find fault with ~
he conduct of others.
SEASONABE.-If y o a havn't
nything on your mind, and your r
ars are open to catch sounds of a:
norning life, you will see his wife u
llow him down to the gate and h
ear her call after him: ci
"Don't forget to bring up half a p
mushei of peaches!I and can't si
rou get the plums,too? And there's !
he sugar-get ten pounds. Oh, "
res! I want a gallon of vinegar, p
ind some brandy. You may bring u
ip two melons, and the cloves, n'
:innamon and nutmeg. Hold on, E
lenry! Don't forget the half- I
shel of pears. I must have 'em
o-day. And while you are at the
narket, why not bring up the Si- F
erian crab-apples ?"
He gets half a block away, and 0:
he aises her voice and calls: o:
"Oh, Henry! don't foget to bring C
ip three dozen quart eens as you ci
A JOKE THAT KICKED
BACK. C6
They are telling a joke, writes
91i Perkins," on Charley Backus
-day. Charley tells it on him- lin
4f, too. It seems Charley drove it
through Stamford. Conn., yes- ck
rday, with Lem Read, of poor c
bad Dan Bryant's Minstrels, for a
ompanion. As the train got ready -
leave, Charley says:
"Lem, let me show you a good ha
ke-I'll get a splendid joke on
at old duffer sitting in the sta
Dn. Now you watch "
Then as the train began to
ove out slowly, Charley. rushed
to the station, shook his fists in
te stranger's face, and called him it
miserable, mean, thieving scoun
el.
"0, you rascal !" said Charley, I>
['ve got you at last you bloody
d seapegrace, and now I'll lick ph
)a to an Inch of your life.
"Charley I Chrley 1". shouted
em, "the train is off-ran I" and
barley left his astonished victim
id rushed back into the car.
"Where! wherell is the man
ho wanted to lick me all over
ew England ?" shouted the old os
rmer as he ran to the door of of
ie station with his spectacles in.
e hand and a crumpled Tribune b
theother. "Whereishe-show
m to me !" th
"Here he is," said Charley from M
e end platform of the last car
it moved out, holding his thumb
id finger to his nose.
"Wall, here I am-" said the old tr
rmer, shaking his fist at Char- u
y,."and I'll be goll blasted, ef I a
Wnt lick h-11
"Ding1-dongl-rdingl-dong ."
terrupted the locomotive bel, bf
,a- th,
Alas for Charleyl the train
icked back. The outraged man
i the-station robbed his eyes,went or
it on the platform, saw Charley wi
trough the window, and went for e
m. Three times he chased the
)or, misguided minstrel around
e train. He finally aught him, ke
id the poor. man only escaped a
y leaving an $8hat and thelapels ml
~a$60Ocoat inthe outraged far- it
er's hands. am
How THEY LwARN.-The rapid- bi~
y with which females adapt ro
emselves. to the circumstances ni
ad fashiouns with which they are N
rrounded, and especially the se
shious, 'is simply marvelous. i
no Monday a lady in a Western th
ty, who employs several domes- so
es, got a new table-girl, just ar- de
ved in the- city from rural dis- a
its-a bright-.eyed,rosy-eheeked th
Lamsel who blushed whenever any ,
the male members of the house- g
ld looked at her ; a girl whose at
ir was combed smoothly back t
om off her tanned forehead; uz
hose dress had sleeves to it, came
p to her throat and down to her
et. ,On Tuesday her hair went ml
Son to the top of her head, and he
as coiled up over a-somrething; hii
i Wednesday she cut the sleevea ha
f her dress, turned it in at the st
troat, pinned it back and humped
out behind, and could look all be
ie men in the house square in
ie face for half an hour without
ae hue of modesty showing
arough her chalk complexion, at
hursday she completed her degra- u~
tion by cutting off all but an a 1
Lh or two of her front hair-.p
A boy of five years was "playing
tilroad" with his sister of two so
id a half years. Drawing her re
pon a footstool, he imagined yc
iself both the engine and the G<
nductor. After imitating the th
affing noise of the steam, he of
opped and called out: "New
ork," and in a moment after
Patterson," and then "Philadel- mi
dia." His knowledge of-towns foi
as. now exhausted, and at the Gi
at place he cried "Heave.n." p~
is little sister said eagerly, "Top,
des I'll dit out here."
A traveling item says that the su
rincess Louise, wife of the Mar- a
is of Lorne, is executing a bust he
Sher sister-in-law, the Countess
Percy, to be placed in Aluwick
a st 1e, Northumberland. She in
)mes of dartistic family;i Wales gc
adindthesome on busts. ev
His COCOANUT.-He had seen
coanuts before, but never had
e in his hand. The old woman
in the wagon ad held the
es while he entered a grocery
d purchased one. They turned
over and over, and regarded it
sely anad enriously, but drove
meward without asking any
estions.
Next afternoon the old mae en
ed the grocery, cocoanut in
nd and inquired:
"Is this a reg'lar cocoanut ?"
"Yes, and a good one,'too," re
ed Me ktooer.
"Wal, the drned thing has bust
me, and it's a heap too mach
e the old woman; we've turned
ovei more'n a hundred times,
d blamed if I can find thehges.
here in thunder does the un
,k?".
When the amused grocer e1
tined matters, the old man look
crestfallen, and turned away
th the remark
"Durned if I knowed any more'n
raule "
The following is an acknow
Igment of a wedding notice and
nerous allowance of wedding
ke, by a classical rural professor
'Typography:
"We make our most respectful
to the happy twain.and [ the
portunity to return thaniks for
is almostunfled actof liberality.
y the matrimonial chase which
*s theform of our brother typo,
;tify all his preconceived impres
ns. In whatever I of the eou
r he may roam, whether calle
on to face the -ing waves of
verse fortune, or stand before
e it and Ul of enemies, may
vfilb besu&h thet-t66'Uew
death shall be laid on hin, and
e . of his existence draws to a
Oe, le may prodeSele" prof,
d claim a clear tie to an hon
oble I in the page of history,as
l as to an eternat inheritance
ynd the *."
An Englishman said to a Yan
e: "Don't you ever 'ave any
ka in your country? don't we
mber seeing any. KW strange
is to live in a country without
yanks!" "Auksusks?" replied
e other. "O), yes, I see. .Big
'ds; little wings; sits on the
ek in a row, like Dandreary's
ghtshirts; dives after fishes.
>; don't know as we have any.
me, perhaps,'in Alaska; thrown
Lo the bargain when we bought
e country." "Nejbing of the
t," replied the other ; "you
n't understand. I don't mean
big bird with little wings,
at dives after fishes. I mesa
auk-a small bird with big
gs, that goes after the N's."
, I see. Yes, we've plenty of
em. You m ea n a hawk."
rll, I said an auk, didn't I."
H A R D -ro TZr.-Yesterday
>rning when a man entered his
use after an all nights' absence,
i lothes covered with blood, his
ir covered with grasa, his wife
irnly asked:
"Now then, where have you
en all night?.
"Whirivi' bin ?'
"Yes, sir."
"Well," he replied, looking down
himself; "You can call it blode
on a steamboat, or run over by
rnady-I ain't a darned bit
rticler which."'
George. "Oh, I love the park
!I prefer it to Switzerland,
ily." Mabel. "Why, George,
've never been to Switzerland."
orge. "No, but I've seen it on
a map, and I don't like the look
it atalL"
A California paper says: "The
kmen of San Francisco have
smed a mutual aid association.
e holds thie can while another
mps."
"How -odd it is," said Pat, as he
idged along on foot, one hot,
try day, "that a man never
etsaocart going the same way
Tere is noparticularadvanitage
catching a weasel asleep. A
od wide awake weassi answers
ary purpose.