The tribune. (Beaufort, S.C.) 1874-1876, April 26, 1876, Image 1
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THE TRIBUNE.
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VOL. II ?NO. 23. ' BEAUFOllT, S. (J., APRIL 2(5. 1870. $1.50 PER ANNUM.
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Home Coming.
When brothers leave the old hearthstone
And go, caoh oue, a pep *rate way,
Wo thiDk, as wo go oa alone
Along our pathway, day by day,
Of olden soenes and faces dear ;
Of voices that we miss so mnob, ,
And memory brings the absent near,
Until w6 almost feel the touch
Of loving bands, and bear, once more,
The dear old voices ringing out.
As in the bappy time of yore,
Ere life bad caught a share of donbt.
If you should place against your ear
Tho shell you plundered from the sea,
Down in its hidden heart you'd hear
A low aud tender melody",
A murmur of the restless tide,
A yearning, born of memory,
And, though its longings be denied,
The shell keepB singing of the eea.
And sometimes when old memories throng,
Like ghosts, the chambers of onr onni
Wo feel the yearning, dee J) and strong,
A longing we cannot cutrol,
To lay onr cares and bnt-iness by
To seek the old, familiar ways,
And cross heme's threshold, and sit down
With comrades of onr earlier days.
For, though onr p it'is are sundered wide,
Wo feel that we are brothers yet,
And by-and-byo wc turn aside
From hurrying care and worldly fret,
And each one wanders back to meet
His brother by the hearth of home ;
I think the meeting iB more sweet
Because so far and wide we roam.
We cross the lengthening bridge of years,
Meet outstretched hands and faces true ;
The silent eloquence of tsars
Speaks welcome that no words can do.
But ah, the mootings hold regret!
The sad, sad story, often told,
Of hands that oars havo often met,
Close f >lded under churchyard mold,
Of eyis that smile into onr own,
Closed ill the drnamlA?? *l*?n nt n~\ .
A Rwoeter rent was never known
Than theirs beneath the grave's white sod.
A tender thought for them to-night,
A tribute tear from memory ;
Beneath their covering of white
Sweet may their dreamless slumber he.
Harry Hart's Experience.
He was good looking. Diana know
it. (Genteel. Diana knew that, too.
She was both genteel and good looking
herself. So when he came to see her,
and made himself agreeable, she did not
pretend that she hated him. Indeed,
as the time went on, she made np her
mind that a voyage down life's river in
the same boat with Harry Hart would
not be an unpleasant trip, and resolved
to say "Yes " when he asked her to have
him. He was so nice, thought Diana,
one could do anything for him. One
could be proud of him, too, the fine,
tall, brown whiskered fellow who knew
so much. So her eyes glistened when
they saw him coming; her whole faoe
softened when ho spoke to her; and her
heart?ah 1 how soft that grew I Love
makes one so tender, that it seems hard
it will not stay with us forever.
Iu this case the rosy god lingered a
wliolo summer through. Mr. Caleb
Bloom kuew this well enough; he also
felt the influence of that "certain something"
in Diana, which made her the
sweetest of all \Vomen; bnt he was not
good looking, and had not any power
over the girl's heart.
His pleasing task was to follow the
couple about unseen, and envy Horry
Hart from his vory houI. As for Harry,
he prudently refrained from saying anything
to commit himself; made love in
such a way as might, be understood and
not repeated; and finally resolving that,
after ull, Diana was not rich enough for
him, flitted away from Tulipgrove,
undor pretense of a short visit to town,
and vanished from Diana's vision. To
say that she was not hurt would be to
tell fibs.
If she only could have had warning,
she might have told him that she hated
him, and had that reflection to comfort
her; but it was too late now. .
Harry had, meanwhile, disported himself
iQ society, and felt that ho had esoaped
the country girl's meshes just in
time. His oonscienoe accused him of
having ill-used her, and he pictured hnr
, pining lor him, with her hair in disorder,
aud 110 bright bows in it. He rather
dreaded the morning papers lest he
should read of her demise?even, perhaps,
of her suicide; aud be wished that
ht was possible for him not to mako
mimself charm ng to every woman he
et. .. .
1: "-If.Td been snob a fellow as Caleb
oom, now," said Harry, looking into
> s-. ny, glass, " why I might have'gone jogging
on without anything-to reproach
< myself with; bat we don't make ourselves.
I can't help being handsome,
any more than I can help the women
knowing it."
So he put Diana's photograph awav
in his desk, and tried to forget her. It
is hard, however, to forget some people.
Her face flitted before him too often for
his peace. The notes of her voioe returned
to him like well remembered,
music. Even when he courted Miss
Guinoagold, tho heiress, he oompared
her with Diana, who wonlfl have nothing
for hor dowry. And when )iiss
Gnineag >ld refused him with soorn,
after smiling on him and enconraging
bim for several long months, he thought
of the girl who had waited, an he knew,
i to hear him say, " I love yon," and who
* * had nrvor heard it.
* He hed not been in love with Miss
Ghineagold however. So ha recovered
from the blow of hot rejection easily,
and went courting in another direction.
This time Diana unconsciously avenged
herself. His second flame was a widow 1
rolling in riches, and of a jealonH turn e
of mind. She being an inmate of tho
same hotel at Brighton, saw him from ?
the corridor, one day, vigorously kissing 11
a photograph, which ho afterwardB hid
in his desk. Being as unscrupulous as I
a jealous woman al*ays is, she bribed
the chambermaid to bring her the e
picture. It was Diana's. Tho widow, c
boiling with rage, at once cut her admirer
dead. *
It was Harry's hope to marry a rich a
woman; but he felt confident that ho a
might find a prettier and younger one; ?
and so, nothing dismayed, bo set forth
upon his search for a wife; wishing,
with every new adventure, that Diana a
had been rich, and bemoaning his hard ?
fate that he could not afford to marry a "
poor girl. .
However, the rich ones were skittish,
hnd other fancies, did not appreciate .
Mr. Harry Hart; either gave him no op- J'
punumsy 10 asK a * xes,' or said " JNo" "
outright! and five years after he had c
jilted Diana he found himself still a .
baohelor, his estimation of his own .
charms greatly lessened by his bad luck ?
iu the matrimonial market, and the i
small competence which hod been his
own dwindling away to nothing.
Still, Diana haunted him?a pale, D
faded vision, with two hands clasped J1
over a broken heart?and still he kissed
her picture, and believed himself to
have adored her, and to be the victim of
a cruel fate. 8
He had come to such a state of pe- v
cunisry despair, however, that he was
about to offer himself to the landlady of ,
his lodging house, who otherwise would
soon have become troublesome in regard
| to her little bill, when a rich old uncle, 7
dying without heirs, saved him from the '
I saciifice. He became the joyful pos- u
sesjor of a fortune, and independent (
th-'nceforth of both landladies and heiresses.
r
For a while, Mr. Harry Hart reveled
iu the knowledge of this fact, and satis- ?
fled himself with food and drink and 1
much riding behind fast horses, in the
most fashionable coats devisable by his ?
tuilor; but, finally, even thiB palled; ro 7
mance asserted her sway. Diana begun 11
to haunt him once more; and at last he *
came to the heroio resolution of going 8
at onoe to her native village, and ottering
her his hand, his heart and his for- ?
tune. That sho would accept him, he a
had no doubt. How could he f Women r
who loved once, loved forever, the poets .
had deolared ; and if Diana hod not
loved him he oertainly had tried to 7
make her.
Therefore he packed up his most fascinating
belongings, placed Diana's picture
next his heart and started for Tu- a
Hpgrove by next morning's early train. v
He reached the the village at noon.
I How familiar it looked ! Nothing seemed
to have changed. The old elms nodded
a weloome.? The old people sat in H
their porches. The flowers in the gar- g
den might have done the same. And ^
she?Diana?was she the same ? Alas 1
her beauty might have faded ; her ~
broken heart might be visible in her r
eyes; she might be dead !
"Oh, no, cried Harry, as this last ^
thought entered his mind?"no; she .
must live for me."
As ho spoke he found himself approaching
the church. It was a week 8
day, but it was full?or rather emptying
j itself of its fullness as fast as possible. ?
Something must have happened out ?
i of the usual order of things to occasion u
such an event. A wedding or a funeral
only could fill Tnlipgrove church on a 11
week day. Suddenly a well remembered
fuce flashed on him?Caleb Bloom's. 0
He was struggling out of the crowd, 11
I dressed in his Sunday best, and looking
about him for something. Harry collar
eu mm. ,
"Sir," cried Caleb?" Mr. Hart, I de- j L
clore? How d'ye do?"
"Thank you," said Harry, "I'mjn
very well; but I waut to ask yon? ' c
Diana ?"
" Oh, she's there," said Caleb, point- 1
ing with his thumb, as Harry thought, r
towards the churchyard.
Harry staggered back.
"Not dead!" he cried.
"Dead I" cried Caleb. "Why,thank
Heaven, no. Hero she is. Diana, here's
Mr. Hart.'.'
Mr. Hart turned his head. There
stood Diana. Diana, as of old, only 6
very plump and rosy, and holding in *
her arms a baby of some five weeks old, 1
in glorious white christening robes. ^
She nodded and smiled courteously upon J
Harry, and smiled after another sort c
upon Caleb. '
" It's our second, Mr. Hart," she f
said, with matronly pride. Our first 1
was named Caleb. Yon'll ra? him a t
moment coming with his grandma. This '
is Diana?his pa wonld have it so. A 1
boy and a girl wo have now. Wouldn't 1
{ou like to hold her a minute, Mr. Hart? 1
don't believe she'll cry. She's as good ]
as gold." 1
But Mr. Hart declined the pleasure, t
and returned to town by the next train.
No Use In Going. ^
"I'm goiDg to atop attending our c
ohuitoh," peevishly exclaimed a vinegar- x
faced spinster, not a thousand miles 1
from Chicago, the other day. " Why,
what has happened f" anxiously inquired
a friend. " There ain't nothing hap- 1
pened, and that's just what's the mat t
ter," oontinned the spinster through her i
nose: " here I've been a regular attend- 1
ant for more'n two years, and thoro t
hasn't been no gossip, no scandal, nor l
nothing to talk about in all that time, I
Cid I can't see the usa of going any
nger I" And she squared herself down ]
in the chair with the look of a martyr. I
Fashion Notes.
Tho newest princesse rolies lace at the
>ack, the lacing being carried considirably
below the waist.
Satin d'Afrique, which is satin on one
ide and repped groR grain on the other,
s a rich fabric for spring bonnets.
All costumes have an outside pocket,
ri.tced rather low on the left side.
Jasmine is a new shade of the univeral
cream, and is yellower than the
ream itself.
Ribbon embroidery furnishes a novely
in trimmings. Narrow China ribbons
re gathered in the center and arranged
oas to form buds, leaves, etc. Emiroidery
silks of various kinds are skilully
added in pretty designs.
Crape is the only trimminc recorded
s suitable for deep mourning. It
anges in price from $1.25 to $8 and
;10 per yard.
Laces, fringes and flowers are the
askionable trimmings.
A new gold pencil case has a monkey
or a handle, which slips around the
ube after the manner of the toys of
hildren.
For children, brown linen aprons, with
odices worked in crewels in a sort of
utter-cup design, are being introduced,
lourning costumes follow, in modiled
form, prevailing styles.
Efforts have been made to introduce
ew syles in veils, but ladies remain
>artial to the small mask-veil, drawn
ightly over the face.
Thin materials for bonnet trimmings
re gauze ribbons in contrasting colors,
ueh as navy blue and cream, or cardinal
ritli pale French gfay.
A new cream-tinted cashmere lace,
?hicli glistens like hoar frost, i-i called
1 frost lace."
White satin and white lace, worked
rith very small white beads imitatiug
me pearls, is a favorite style or ornaaeut
for rich ball dresses. |
Old lace is more worn than ever. ,
Irenadines are exceedingly popular for i
looming.
Black laoe fans are preferred by maried
ladies and white lace ones by young j
adits.
Entire costumes for evening are now ;
ften modeled after fashions which pre- j
ailed in Revolutionary days, as, for i
istance, the lengthened court train,
rith satin petticoat, deep pointed coragc,
and Lady Washington sleeves.
The silks for trimming summer bon- j
lets are soft brocades andbasket woven,
11 of one shade, with tiny flgnres in
aised designs.
Some of the new ribbons are so thick
hat they have the appearance of being
radded, and yet they are as flexible as
atestrings.
All stylish gloves are self stitched.
Jet ornaments remain in favor, and i
re always desirable, as they can be
rorn with almost anything.
Medallions and chains, in a great vari- i
ty of styles, are popular.
Dress buttons ore either largo or
mall ; there are no medium sizes.
The new fringes come very deep,
iome of the most costly ones aro a com>ination
of worsted and silks. All
worsted fringes are likewise fashionable.
?his style of garniture ranges in price
rom seventy-five cents to $8 and 810 I
>er yard.
Many of the new dresses open in tko j
ack.
Imported dresses are as scant in the '
k irts and as much tied back as ever.
Stylish, long waisted basques show a j
root number of seams and side forms ; |
ne bodice sometimes numbering as
aany as fifteen seaim.
Shirring, eo much used last summer, '
h but seldom seen now.
Handsome silk suits have brocaded
ivordresses, aud the inexpensive sumi.er
silks are in shaded stripes.
In the new basque the front darts are j
ery short, makiug the bust appear low.
The standing English collar is worn
ligher than ever before.
Turned-down collars are broad behind j
ud rounded in front, or else square
ioruered in Byron shape.
Now polonaises ure long habit garnents,
nearly concealing the skirts beleath
them.
Cashmere is fashionable for everything
but the deepest mourning.
Making Love to Black Hawk.
After the Black Hawk war and tho
lettlement of affairs with the Indiaue,
he chief and his eldest son, known as
roung Black Hawk, visitod tho East and
vere the recipients of many ovations,
[n New York city the young Hawk bosame
a,grcat favorite and of him tho
Allowing incident is recorded. A
? ashing young lady, of tho " merchant
>rinoe oircles," movod by some irresis;oble
impulse, rushed forwurd and gave
ihe young ohief a kins thai echoed to
ihe oeiiing. "Ola me!" she then exrfaimed,
in fright, "what haven't I
lone I I've kissed an Injin!" Young
flawk mistook this for a complimentary
uldress, and, throwing himself into a
praoefnl attitude, he replied as follows :
' Wakan waukeehoen muskekie ! Choc
leremoneen jeokwassin.. Ne weenin
jim miasin mittawinin powlangon?
veepewen wigwaum?Otah mackawlan
>entee mo pootah eaktike?Nogush
neoh sinno beyah tango?Hey all wash
on 1"
The translation of it is this :
" Fair little witoh !" handing her bis
lead drees; " yon shall be my sweet
quaw I" giving her his blanket. "You
ihall go to the woods and hang on the
LetUe," giving her his moccasins. "Yon
hall sleep in my wigwam." and ilnally
inbuckling his waist belt?"and tend
ha papoose. Heyah ! she's gone!"
" xee; at this last evidence of Indian
prodigality, the young lady hastily disappeared.
An Old Maid's Opinion.
If it doesn't make me laugh, and 1
can't help it, to hear married people pity
old maids, never thinking for one moment
how au old maid might pity the
married.
Oh, no !
Poor soul, she hasn't any husband !
Poor dear, she hasn't any children!
It's so very, very sad.
Of course it is, poetically speaking,
but don't you ever pity a woman for not
marrying until yon are quite sure what
sort of a man she hasn't married.
I've known a broken engagement or
two that really were subjects of congratulation.
There isn't any other time when a
woman feels so like feeling of her shoulder
blades, to see whether the wings
have sprouted, as when she has slipped
the wrong man's ring off ner finger, aud
feols that she'll never bear the brunt of
his hatefnl temper, or put up with his
neglect, or grow old before her time be
cause of his unfaithfulness, when she
stands free again and ready for the right
man to come along.
I suppose a woman nevor feels quite
certain that the right mau won't come
in all her life.
However, wo'ro talkiug of old maids
aud the people who pity them.
It is all very well to get poetical over
married lifo aud set single women down
as miserable creatures, but like most
theories, the "thing won't wash."
If you get an adoring husband, ready
to cherish and protect you while life
lasts, j ou're certainly a happy woman ;
but how many do ? One out of fifty, ,
perhaps. ,
It's a lottery with few lucky numbers,
and even an old maid doesn't bitterly
' envy a woman with a mean or a quarrel- 1
' some or neglectfnl husband?a woman
j who is left alone with all her cires, a
| woman who is a slave, not a wife?nor ,
even always all that falls to the lot of
j the best loved wife on earth.
There is peace and rest in life when j
one is one's own mistress, at all events; j
when I hear worn out, worried matrons
pitying single women I often feel like
laughing, it is so funny.
The Good-Old Time.
i
In 1829 Caleb Atwater was sent to ar- i
run go a treaty with the Indians at <
Paririe du Chien, Wis. He took his i
work to Washington, where it was acted
upon by the Senate, approved, and Mr.
i Atwater being off duty, attended the
| first levee of Old Hickory, which oc
curred Jaunarv 10. 1S30. at eicht o'clrw>1r
p. m., iu the "round room." Here is i
I he description of Mr. Atwater :
"Gommodoro Rogers was there,
dressed as plainly as any simple citizen,
easy in his manner, and unassuming.
The lieutenants and midshipmen mado
all the display tbey could. In the same
way the officers of the army appeared
The secretary of war and his family ;
were dressed in the neatest but plainest
manner. The secretary's lady, whose
person is symmetry itself, neither need- i
ed nor wore anything but plain American
calico for a dress, without a ruffle or
a single ornament on her person. Her
appearance bespoke a reliance on her
native beauty and her accomplishments,
nor was her reliance mispluced. No
sooner had she taken her place, near the
President's family, than all the beauty
and fashion in the room gathered around
her. The gentlemen wore all dressed
alike, but our Western ladies unanimously
dressed in plain American calico,
without an ornament. The simplicity
of their dress, their unaffected
manners, their neatness, th?ir ease,
grace, and dignity, carried all before I
them like an electric shot. The diamonds
sparkled in vain at that levee,
and Western unadorned neatness, modesty,
and Ixauty bore off the palm.
Oar Western ladies had felt some uneasiness
bt fore the levee about the
result, but their friends assured them i
correctly enough that republican simplicity
would triumph over all crosses
and diamonds."
Hoes It Pay to be Boss I
A young contractor in one of the
large Springfield manufactories, in
j company with his wife, a sad looking
' little woman in threadbare clothing,
entered one of the town meat markets
; one reoent Saturday evening, and, after
, gazing around for a moment, the man
ordered a soup bone for Sunday. While
it was being wrapped up, a j pruce looking
young man, with a massive gold
watch chain, attired in a suit cut in the
lutest fashion and 860 overcoat, entered,
\ and pompously ordered four pounds of
sirloin steak utr twenty-five cents per
I pound. The little woman looked wistfully
at the tender, juicy steak as it was
< being cut off, and then at the bone wliioh
was to furnish her dinner the next day,
ana, taming to nor iiusband, said :
"George, why can't wo have as good
meat as that man ; he works under yon
at the shop?" "I know it, Jenny," replied
the contractor, drawing himself up
to his full height, " but he's only a poor
beuoh workman and I'm boss, and it's
worth something to boss, you know."
"Y-e-s,"said the wife with a sigh,
which said plainly that she would much
| rather be a poor workman's wife and
eat airlion steak than the wife of a
i "boss" and live on soup.
j '
Indians.?It is expeoted that representatives
of fifty-three tribes of Noith
; American Indians, numbering three
hundred persons, and comprising many
: noted ohiefs and their families, all in
picturesque dress, will encamp near the
| Centennial exhibitjpn grounds, in wigI
warns and lodges, and live, squaws,
I papooses aud all, just as they do in the
I far West.
GARIBALDI AT HOME.
How he Received a Party ot American
Visitors who Called Upon lllm.
Tlio Milwaukee Wisconsin prints a
letter written by Mr. E. D. Holton, of
that city, from Rome, in which he gives
an interesting acoouut of a visit to Garibaldi.
He says : Garibaldi lives out of
the city, about two miles away. We
thereforo took measures to inquire if he
would favor our party, viz.: Mr. and
Mrs. Smith and daughter, my wife and
myself, with an interview. We received
in duo time an autograph letter from the
general himself setting down this day,
at two p. m., when he would see us. Ao
cordingly, wo took carriage, and drove
to his plaee, beyond the Porte Pia via
Casa lino. We came to his pretty villa,
not far from the residence of the king.
His house is a handsome two-story structnr.',
of cream color, standing within a (
high wall inclosure, and in the midbt of
a garden, with trees and flowers and
conservatories around?a pleasant and
suitable home for this distinguished
servant of his couutry. A servant girl, 1
plain and simple, responds to our ring of :
the boll, and at onoe, without the least
ceremony, conducts us to the presence
of that man who, rising from the com- I
mon walks of life, and without any
prestige of birth or friends, and stand- ,
rug upon the one, simple, democratic (
principle of the equality of men before
the law, has, by the magnitude and the
majesty of his brave deeds, filled the !
world with his fame, borne an important
part in rendering his country illustrious
among modern nations, and secured the j
affections of mankind. The salon into '
which we came was a large plain room,
with its windows to tne south.
The day was bright and beautiful, and '
the sunlight filled the room. It was a
room without ornament. Tables were ,
around, upcd which were books and (
maps. In the center of the room stood
a large table, also oovered with books, .
maps and papers, and in front of this
table sat the eagle-eyed old man, front- '
ing us as we entered. We at once advanced,
aud, without the least oeremony, '
introduced ourselves. He held out his *
hand, all cramped and twisted with '
rheumatism, and received us sitting. He
suffers dreadfully from this disorder, '
and can only get about at all upon his '
crutches. But though his body is drawn |
and cramped so badly, the brightness of
his eye is not dimmed, nor even the ]
sweetness and intelligence of his face diminished,
and he converses as cheerfully
and freely with us as we could have
wished. It so happened that no one
oibo was present to see him but car- j
selves at the time. There was standing
by the side of the room, a little away, a
young woman, and it occurred to William
E. to inquire for his family, when 1
ho turned toward this lady, and said: !
"That is my wife." She stepped for- 1
ward, and we all shook hands. I asked
for the children, when the sflhrant ;
brought in a boy two or three years old, <
the picturo of his father, and a girl six 1
or eight years old. I kissed the sweet
boy, and* then undertook to kiss the girl, i
but, with witching eyes and aots, she ]
undertook to hide by her mother. But, j
pursuing my opportunity, I seized her, |
and paid her off with a smacking kiss,
much to her father's and mother's ,
amusement, and not evidently to the |
child's dislike. Here great baskets of ,
flowers were brought, and each guest was ,
furnished with a bouquet of rare and
beautiful flowers?roses, violets, camellias.
Our conversation ran much upon '
America. When asked what his feelings 1
were toward the United States, he re- |
pliod : "I consider myself one of her
citizens." He did not quite understand
where Milwuukee was; so, calling for a
largo sheet of paper, I took my pencil
and drew an outline map, showing Boston,
New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore,
Now Orleans, and the Atlantio coast, the
Mississippi and Ohio rivers, the lakes,
and the river 8t. Lawrence, and notiDg
Cincinnati, St. Louis, Chicago, and then j
Milwaukee. Ho seemed to have his
geography bronght back to him, and was '
interested to note our home so far away '
ielaud. Thus we chatted on. He speaks 1
English, but not very perfectly, but
seemed to understand all we said to him.
When I asked him if be would not come
over to the Oentennial, he pointed to
his crutehes standing against the wall.
Did we stay half an hour or an hour ?
I o.mnot say. Long enough to have the
face and form of Garibaldi (as he sat beforo
his table and his maps) and the
surroundings, as well as his words,
deeply engraven upon our minds.
A Whisky Punch Changed the Weather.
The widow O'Flaherty was rioh, and
she was known far and wide for her benovolouce
and deeds of charity. On a
nnlit and afcormv evanintr in .Tannarv a Via 1
Hummoiied her servant man to her presence,
and told him to load up the wheel- j
barrow with wood and take it over to the
widow Wilaby's shanty to keep herself '
and the three dear little children from !
freezing. " But," said she. "stop a bit
and make me a glass of whisky punch
beforo yon go." That being done, and *
the punoh having been disposed of, the (
kind hearted widow countermanded the 1
order, remarking that the weather had (
moderated and changed so mnch that 1
there was no immediate danger of any '
one freezing that night. Moral.?Chan- 1
ty is sometimes like a weathercock, sub- 1
jeot to changes.
<
Other eities are preparing for the oel- ,
ebratio* of the centennial fourth of July. (
Norwich should do the same, says the i
Bulletin. Let us have something ap- i
propriate and practical which will please
everybody. We do not refer to hanging
a book agent, but to something that will
be impressive as well as pleasurable.
Lore Making.
Tis a dear little hand,
Half assisting
My efforts to kiss it again,
That at the last moment
Whew! makes my ear tingle with pain.
'TOe a lovely bine eye,
Half assenting
When I ask for a kiss ere I go ;
And ripe; ponting lips,
Not dissenting,
Tempt me on to a kiss and a blow.
But that dear little hand.
Loving, coaxes;
Those velvety lips pout full of bliss ; ?
And I soon find the blows
Are bnt hoaxes?
Little stings "to add sest to the kiss."
An empty pocket is no sign for an
ampty head.
Hereafter wife beaters in California
will be punished by a pnblio whipping.
To be patient and. thorough in all that
one does is to compel success in any calling.
Why is a tugboat like a chiropodist f
Because its business is to look after
tows.
What disagreeable person was it that
; i xl if. kA a
saia tne national sane 01 America is ine
spit-toon ?
Sixteen centenarians died in Massachusetts
last year, eleven of whom were
born in Ireland.
" You have lost your little hatohet,"
is the polite way of telling a man what
be is, when he is one.
If yon would pass for more than your
ralue, say little. It is easier to look
wise than to talk wise.
When a young man cannot live on his
salary, the usual way is for him to live
on the salary of some one else.
The Pennsylvania fienate has passed
the bill forbidding the seiaure for debt
of goods exhibited at the OentenniaL
There is eoonomy in traveling on the
rast mail trains. Yon make what yon
sat go a great deal further in a given
length of time.
Says an editor: " Who drinks all the
whisky made in the United States? is
what staggers us." It is enough to stagjer
anybody.
New Orleans has reoeived 1,204,542
bales of cotton of the present crop, an
increase of 320,818 bales over the receipts
for the same time last year. <
The Centennial Guards of New Orleans
voted unanimously to visit the
Centennial at Philadelphia, and appointed
a committee of arrangements.
The Forsyth (Ga.) Advertiser thus
philosophizes: "The soil is the farmer's
bank," says an agricultural writer. Oh,
if more people would break that bank.
A woman of Omaha, one hundred
rears of awe. lias had her mv? nlnthnn
:ra hand for fifteen yean, and has had
bhem washed and ifoned onoe each year.
" Meet me by gaslight alone," said a
5wain beneath the window of his lady
love. " Now yon get out; I ain't no
gas meeter," replied the gentle creature.
First boy?" I say, Jimmy, there's no
water. It's frozen, everywhere." Second
boy ?" Bally I Maybe we won't have to
wash ourselves till the middle of
spring!"
Lucern cannot be grown in profitable
competition with clover, where clover
may be grown in perfection. It is beet
idapted for dry climates, where clover
will not flourish.
Breathes there a man with soul so dead.
Who never to himself hath said,
I will a family paper take,
Both for my own and children's sake 7*
If suoh there ba let him repent
And have this paper to him sent.
I desire, says an author, tc pat nettling
into these papers which may mislead
?nothing foreign to the spirit of the
boy who said be had no oopybook
which, dying, he was sorry he had blotted.
John Qnincv Adams made one entry
in his diary which will be indorsed by
every amateur Granger: "I males two *
remarks?one, that theaelf-platfted tress
thrive most vigorously; the other, that
the plants which I most cherish arc the
most apt to disappoint me and die." /
Old lady (holding a very small e6bk.?\
<? Wl.nt I Tan JMi.t. /n. mV a
f fi uni i jl vii . wuk? ?vb nwua
HW all cabbage ? I never beard of Mtoha
thing." Polite grocer's dark-?" Tea,
ma'am ; but its because of the Centennial
ma'am. There's so many furrinera
a comin' that smoke, oabbagjMStt ria."
A man living near the fork of two
roads in Hollis, N. H., has been called
out of bed two hundred and fifty-six
times to tell travelers which of the two
roads to take, and bo is seriously contemplating
the patting up a lantern
close to the guide board. It will eoal
something, it is true, bat he Is longing
For a night's sleep.
A Virginia railroad was made to pay
$25 for killing a valuable rooster. The
engineer said he blew the Whistle as
kindly aa possible ; bat when the rooster
dropped one wing on the ground, raised
bis eve heaven ward and oommenoed
whetting his spar on the rail, farbearanoe
ceased to be a virtue, and he let drive
into him with thirteen eon.
In Great Britain there are 410,000 men
employed in the ooal mines below the
ground, and 108,000 engaged above the
ground. The ooal mined each yea*
amounts to 138,600,000 tons. On sa
average one thousand man are killed
every year and foaar thousand are wounded.
In the last half century 60,000 men
have b'-en killed in the mines and areas
200,000 were wounded.