VOL. XLIX. CAMDEN, S. C., THURSDAY, JULY 17, 1890. NO. 3.
ROSY HOURS.
To every man this world becomes
The field of bitter strife.
Or teeming land, where he may reap
Rich harvests for this life!
Earth's toil and care on heart and head.
Like crushing burdens weigh,
To grow or lighten, just as man
Shall use each passing day.
Yet. when the toiling hours have made
j Their hard, exacting round,
J And darkness hushes through the world
The day's confusing sound,
If he his duty unto all
And to himself hath done,
Then night to him will bring her peace,
The sense of triumph won.
There in home's magic ring of joy,
With wife and children by,
No troubles press upon bis heart
Or cloud his beaming eye.
For pure, domestic love is there.
And wields its sweetest powers,
To bless the joyful family group
"With its most rosy hours!
Alice Hunter's Patient,
An okl gentleman, leaning forward
with his hands clasped over a goldheaded
cane, was seated in a summer
house situated upon the grounds of a hotel
at a fashionable watering place. He was
in a corner hidden by drooping vines,
and his face expressed deep and apparently
painful thought. The refrain of his
sad musing was: "Only one person in
the whole world to love me, and I shall
lose even that love now!"
On the other side of the summer
house, divided from the side the old iron
tlcrnan occupied by :i rustic partition,
two la-lies, young and fair, rustled in,
aDd taking out some fancy work, settled
down for a chat.
One was tall and dressed in a pretty
costume that was at once youthful and
matronly; the other was petite, blonde,
and not more than eighteen. 3Irs. Courtland
spoke first.
'Embroidery, Alice?" she said. "A
handcherchicf .corner. For your trousseau?"
-"Yes;" and the sweet voice faltered,
while a burning blush crimsoned her
* cheek. "Is it not pretty?"
"Very, I want to talk, about your
prospects, child. Your Aunt Mary tells
me you are making a splendid match."
"Did she? I think so, Blanche. Malcolm
is so noble and good "and a true
Christian!"
"But your aunt tells me he is the
favorite nephew of the great merchant,
Hubert Bates, whose wealth is something
onA*.mAiio Vr\ii hoi*o nrlr tn hpln Mm
play his cards well and he will prcbably
be heir to a magnificent fortune. But
what ails you? You look as if I was
telling you a piece of news."
"I think Aunt Mary lias been misinformed;
that is all."
'Then he is not Mr. Bates's nephew?"
"I never heard him speak of a rich
uncle, and I am sure he has no hope of
inheriting money. He has a good salary
and my little fortune will furnish a
6mall house; so we can make a comfortable
and I hoj:ea happy home."
"Did he never speak to you of his
uncle?"
"Not of a rich uncle. lie has told me
of a lame uncle, his mother's brother, who
has been very kind to him, giving him
his education and a start in the world.
He always talks of him with the deepest
love and pity."
"Pity?"
"He suffers tortures from the effects of
a fall that has lamed him for life and
often causes him weeks of agonizing pain.
Malcolm teils me with tears in his eyes
of his fear of losing this friend."
"I wonder if it is the same!" murmured
Mrs. C'ourtland.
"Tell me, Blanche, some of the best
places to go for our furniture and carpets
It will be new work for me to buy
household goods, and Aunt Sophy is not
well enough to helprae much."
"Oh, I will go with you. But I declare,
if I were you, 1 would wait and see i
if your Aunt Mary is right. Your fortune
will never buy or furnish such a
house as a future millionaire should live
in."
"My fortune," said Alice Hunter, with
a ring in her clear voice, "will furnish a
^ house suitable for a bank clerk with five
hundred a year salary, which is what my
husband will have. If Malcolm has a
rich uncle he is not the man to live in expectation
of money to come to him
wK over a grave. If his uncle Hubert is, as
you say, very rich, Malcolm would hate
^ money won by the death of the nearest
relative and dearest friend he has. But
I don't believe in the money, for he
k never spoke of it to me."
Then the talk drifted into discussion
of bridal fiuery, of furniture and stories
r>f tVie rnunor wife's enntont in lier own
WF married life.
p Bat the old man leaning upon the
cane was thinking: ''Cau it be true?
Does Malcolm think so little of my
inouey, that will be his, that he has never
even mentioned it to his promised wife?
Can it be that I shall gain a loving,
tender niece instead of losing my nephew
when Malcolm marries?*'
Loving his nephew so deeply, Hubert
Bates had felt a keen pain at the news of
his betrothal. He had never seen Alice
Hunter, but he knew she had been
brought up in a circle of fashion and was
the orphan niece ot one oi society s gayest
votaries, Mrs. Mary Ilaydon.
While he-ftiused upon the conversation
ho had overheard, the silvery voices of
his young neighbors still sounding beside
him., there was a sudden crash. SorneJthing
struck him upon the head and he
lost consciousness.
y Cries from the summer-house from
groups of people collected in the grounds
brought a party of men speedily to the
spot. The rotten posts supporting the
roof upon one side had given way and
the side and roof had fallen in. Mrs.
Conrtland and Miss Hunter were buried
under the fallen timbers, the doorway
being completely blockaded, but were
uninjured. Not so the old gentleman
who had been their unsuspected listener.
He was taken out pallid and senseless.
, Nobody kuew him. He had come by
1 the morning train, hail taken breakfast,
but no room, anil asked the hour for the
return train. A surgeon summoned as
speedily as possible announced a broken
arm and injury to the head, making n
likelihood of a long, tedious illness.
There was some animated discussion,
some suggestions of hospital, a search
through the pockets of the unconscious
victim, resulting iu the discovery of a
small sum of money, but no letters, papers
or cards- and finally a desertion of
one and another, each goiug his or her
way, with the consoling rcfiection, "It's
none of my business."
iiut when they had all deserted the
injured inau the surgeon, still busily
binding up his arm as he lay upon a
bench brought from the ruined summerhouse,
felt a light touch on his hand and
looked up.
"Can I. help you?" Alice Hunter
asked.
"No, child, not now."
"What will they do with him?"
"I suppose he must go to a hospital."
"But the ride?the journey?"
"Will cause grent additional sulTering,
perhaps result in death."
"Doctor, will they keep him here if lie
is paid for?"
"Certainly; but there is not money
enough about him to pay his board a
week."
"I will pay it."
"You?"
MYes; I will not let him die for want
of money I have. He?" and her lips
quivered, "he looks like my dear father
who is dead 1"
"Hem?yes. Here come the followers
to carry hiin to the station. I think
I will have him taken to the house where
I board. It will cost less and be more
quiet."
Mrs. Courtlaud declared Alice was
outraging the proprieties most dreadfully
when the young girl went to the
house and ojlered her services as nurse to
the doctor; but Auut Sophy silenced all
comment by moviug her belongings from
the hotel to the quiet boarding-house,
and the doctor found he had a valuable
assistant.
Alice explained, in her quiet, low
voice, that her father was ill for Dine
long months before he died and she was
his nurse. This accounted for the noiseless
woolen dress, the velvet-shod feet,
the quick eye and ready hand, and when
the sufferer recovered consciousness the
gentle voice and tact that quieted him
in paroxysms of pain and fever. Aunt
Sophy was too much of an invalid herself
to help; but she sat beside the bed
while Alice moved to and fro, and performed
all nurse duties.
The invalid had one loDg talk with tin
doctor, aud then submitted to the gentle
ministration of the two women, only insisting
upon a man the doctor provided
being with him at night aud within call.
The season was over, and only these
three remained of the summer boarders
at the house, when one cool October day,
the sick man, now fast recovering called j
Alice to him.
"I shall soon be well again,'' he said,
regretfully.
"Yes," she answered cheerily; "very
soon."
"I shall miss ray nurse."
"And my patient; but I am glad you
orn vnpnvnrinrr Wn worn ftfmifl nf". nnp
UIV ivvv^..?p. " v ,,v,v * "*
time there would be a more painful parting."
''You mean I was in danger of dying.
Why should that be painful? I am old."
She made no answer, looking sorrowfully
iuto his uplifted eyes.
"And a burden upon you, the doctor
tells me. Why did you make yourself
responsible for a stranger?
The fair face flushed, the soft eyes
were dewy with feeling, as Alice said
softly. "Because you're old and seemed
poor and friendless. I was glad it was
in mv power to aid you. l)o not think
it was at any great cost," she added with
a generous desire to lighten the burden
of obligation. "I have some money
lying idle.
"For the wedding-day, perhaps.
Well, child, you might have poorer
jewels to deck your bridal thau an old
man's tears of gratitude and love. I am
getting well and shall soou leave you.
Will you give me a keep-sake?"
The girl loosened a little locket from
a chain round her throat, cut off one of
htr golden curls and put it in the place
of some hair she took out, aud laid the
trinkot in the old man's hand.
"With my love," she said, softly.
"Ah, child," he sighed, "an old man
sick and feeble wins little love."
"Yet," she said, earnestly, "you must
believe that I have nursed you since you
were conscious with alfection. My own
father is gone, but if ever you want a
uauguier s cure or anecuon, ueueve ine,
I will gladly come to you if possible."
Three days later the house was deserted.
Aunt Sophy and Alice returned to their
home, and Alice cheerfully paid out of
her small patrimony for the board and expenses
of her venerable patient.
She little guessed how deep an impression
her care and tenderness had made
upon the heart so long closed against,
human aiTeetion, so distrustful of any advances
from his fellow-creatures. It was
a revelation to him, this active charity
to an utter stranger. lie had gone
to the hotel merely to see Malcolm's
choice, and had purposely left all clue of
his identity behind him. He had intended
meeting Alice, if possible, iiu*
known and watching her unobserved;
but accident had thrown them together
in a way he little anticipated. The first,
use he made of his recovery was to write
l.:? ATnlo/Un, n,n? l,im of
IU HIS HU[?UVi?, HUM luw IIUU 141'
the station when lie returned home.
Kuowing nothing of the recent acrident,
the young man was shocked at the
change in his uncle's face.
"You have been ill?" he cried.
"Very ill."
"Why did you not send for me?"
"I had even better nursing than yours,
Malcolm. Don't ask me any questions
now, but tell mc about your marriage
preparations."
"Alice has gone home and will remain
until November. Then she comes to
Mrs. Haydon's, and will buy her furniture.
"In November?''
"Yes."
Late in November sho came, her
trunks full of Aunt Sophy's presents, and
Aunt Mary gave her cordial greeting. A
grhirJ wedding was the display upon
which the lady had set her heart, and
Alice shrank a little at the comments upon
the rich uncle and her own good fortune
in the "first-rate match."
But just before the wedding day a little
note was brought to Alice by a gorgeous
footman, who was driven to her
aunt's behind a private carriage. The
note was from Malcolm, and begged licr
to come to him in the carriage.
Wondering, but obedient, Alice was
speedily ready,and was driven to a handsome
house, where the door was opened
to usher her into a stylish drawing-room,
where a gentleman awaited her,*aud Malcolm
advancing said: "My uncle Hubert,
Alice!"
Kindly blue eves looked into her own,
withered hands were extended and a
voice she knew well, said "We are old
friends, Malcolm. Are we not, Alice!"
Then, before she could answer, the old
mau continued: ' T have thought, Alice,
that it was unkind to have my nephew
wait for my death before sharing in my
wealth. I have borne a curse of distrust
in ray heart for many years, thinking my
money won ine all the affection, save
Malcolm's, that was offered me; but
though you were well content to wed the
young clerk and put your own patrimony
into his home, you must not refuse my
heir, who has accepted from me an income
that makes him independent, and
this home."
"My love for Malcolm can bear richc3
or poverty," was the answer; "but, sir,
our home needs you. You will come,
will you not, to the children, who will
try to make your life happy by loving
care? Long before I knew you Malcolm
told mc he hoped, when he had a home,
to win you to live in it. Will you let
me. too. beg of you to come to us?"
"Gladly, child!gladly!" the old man
said.
"I understand now," Alice said to
Malcolm, "wliy you wanted to wait
until after the wedding to take our
house. You wanted to surprise me."
"I assure you I am as surprised as you
arc, though it was Uncle Herbert who
persuaded me to wc.it."
So where the rich, lonely man had
feared to lose the one love of his life, he
gained another tenderer, sweeter love to
brighten his declining yeare by a daughter's
devotion aud affection.
A Four-Century Bible.
What is probably the oldest copy of
the Scriptures in the United States is a i (
TlfLI. i? 1L- !
very curious joioic iu me possesaiuu ui
the Rev. Father A. A. Lambing, the historian,
of Wilkinsburg, Penn.
It is a folio in s:ze, containing about ,
900 jMiges of heavy parchment (sheep)
and bears a marked resemblance to the i
first Bibles printed by Guttenberg when (
he invented printing. The Bibles printed
at first by Guttenberg (in 1450 and 1455)
are described as "quarto in size, double |
columns, the initial letters of the chap- |
ters being executed with the pea in col- ,
ore.
Father Lambing's Bible was printed in ,
1478, and is, therefore, one of the ear- |
liest specimens of printing. The letters
nie in large Gothic style and the handilluminated
work is simply beautiful, j
The gilt painting, after the lapse of time, ,
is as clean and pretty and bright as (
though put on only yesterday. I
Chemistry to-day is said to possess no ]
materials which wili maintain a red color |
any length of time, and here in this (
Bible the fiourishes and initial letters in ,
I red have withstood the ravages of time i
for more thun 40U years and are still ,
brilliant. The monks had some secret in (
the mixture of their paints. They became
adepts at the illuminating art.
r The text of the book is in the Latin ,
vulgate, except that the Acts of the |
Apostles are put after St. Paul's Epistle to
the Hebrews. There are mauy contractions
in the printing which arc hard to
to make out, even to Latin and Biblical
students. The cover is of maple wood,
covered on the outside with hogski^
over which flourishes and fancy stamp
work have been embossed.
The corners of the cover are protected
by solid brass castings. Another of
these metal ornaments has been fastened
to the middle of the back, and the fragments
of brass clasps arc still hanging to
the Bible. In those days durability was
aimed at in binding far more than it is
now.
Father Lambing says that this Bible
is tive years older than Martin Luther.
Luther was born November 5, 1483, and
the book was printed November, 1478.
He says it is probably one of the old
books which were chained in the monasteries.
How a Horse Enjoys Flowers.
4,I don't wonder at the girls loving
flowers ns tuey uo, wncn even norses arc
nllected by their beauty." "What horse?
Where?" "I saw a young lady while
waiting l'or a car hold a bor|uct to the
nose of a poor laborer's horse. The
heat-worried brute actually for a moment
seemed to inhale its fragrance with
as much pleasure as its pretty owner. It
was a bit of poetic sentiment that only a
maiden's heart could conceive, and while
she was looking around to see if anybody
was noticiug her artless innocence,
the noble steed ate the boquct."?Philadelphia
Times.
A Well-Equipped School.
It is stated that the most complete
workshops of their class in the country
are to be found at the Hose Polytechnic
scnooi .it lerre uauce, muiana. muc
combiuiition of theory and practice is
carried on with singular felicity and effectiveness.
In the course in mechanical
engineering particular attention is
paid to shop practice and actual construction,
the students being required to
work iu the shops as well as in the drawing
rooms and lecture rooms. Over
840,000 were expended in titling up the
shops and supplyiug them with too.s.
The World's Fair Directors unanimou<
ly concluded to increase the capital stoci
of the corporation to $10,000,000,
HARD WORKERS
ARCTHH WOMEN OF THE (TREAT
FRENCH CITY.
Almost All Avenues of Employment
Open to Tlicm-Ncwspapers Chiefly
Sold by Women ? Merchants
of the Four Seasons, Etc,
Women iu France , says a Paris letter
to the San Francisco Chronicle, cannot
justly complain that au insufficient number
of the avenues of labor are not open
to them. The Government gives them
occupation in many ways?in the mint,
as telegraphists, in the postoffice, in the
telephone offices and in other ways too
numerous to mention. As physicians
they conquered their place long ago. The
oar is almost the only profession or trade
that thev have not iuvaded. Every Paris
shop, almost without exception, has its
woman cashier. A cook starts a restaurant
and reigns supreme in the kitchen
while his wife superintends the service,
perhaps with the assistance of a rnatre
d'hotel. A shirtmaker opens a shop for
the sale of articles connected with hi3
trade and does the cutting, while his
wife presides at the counter. The tailor
lias usually his wife as cashier. French
women are editors of newspapers and reviews,
compositor^, saleswomen, nurses,
TUE STAFF OF LIFE.
porters, hewers of wood and drawers of ,
vater, everything in lact mey want to ue
or are obliged to be, and their rights and
wrong's,are, in general, justly recognised
by the unwritten social code and the
legal tribunals of their country.
Newspapers are sold in Paris at kiosks
situated ou the principal streets, boulevards
and public places by venders, who
have a coigb of vantage at the door of a
wineshop or other entrance, and by news
men or news women in the street. Boys
rarely engage in the occupation. The
dress of the men so engagpd usually beggars
description. The news women present
ordinarily a more decent appearance.
The kiosks are small, picturesque
structures constructed by a company authorized
by the city and leased at from
6 francs to 12 or 15 francs a month, ac- j
cording to eligibility. It is not always
those in the most crowded localities that
pay best, and at uonc of them are fortunes
made in a day. It is not a life
that an American woman, even of the
most necessitous class, would not willingly
follow?up in the morning at
dawn and on the boulevards; never in
bed before one o'clock in the morning.
Most of the kiosks are kept by aged
women, who, summer and winter alike,
pass from twelve to eighteen hours a
dav at their task. "When the weather is
?ofd their sufferings must be great,
though thry arc warmly dressed and
have under their skirts a footstove of
the kind which our ancestors used in the
old New England churches when the
sermons were three hours long and the
temperature 10 degrees below zero. At
midnight the more weary begin to nod,
nud you have to shout to wake them.
At one o'clock they have all folded their
tents and stolen away to take a few hours
of repose before recommencing the dull
round of labor.
KOUXOUS OF AUVERCXE.
A notable class of the women workers
of Paris .nc those called "merchants
of the four seasons." They-are provided
with a handcart commonly filled with
vegetables or other products of the land
and water peculiar to the different seasons,
but the name is sufficiently clastic
1o include those who deal the year round
in meat, oranges or other things which
the appellation would faintly suggest.
The privilege of following this arduous |
occupation is only granted to persons
who arc aged and decrepit, and who, if
the laws of health were observed, really
should not be engaged in it. In the
morning they go at daylight to the ccntral
market to lay in their stock of fruit,
meat, vegetables, etc., and tlienc# forward
till dark, and sometimes until a
certain hour in the evening they may be
seen pushing their carts about, the city,
haggling with customers, retailing their
misfortunes with ouc another, or having
a row with a policeman, who threatens i
to take them in if they do not forthwith I
evacuate a particular locality which is |
highly desirable for their business, but
where they are very much in the way.
The existence of a class of small dealers
of this kind implies conflicting interests.
The shopkeepers object. They pay high
rents, and here are dealers at their
jdoors who undersell them and
who pay no rent. On the
other hand, the merchants of the
four seasons are a great accommodation
to small consumers, since they sell at a
reasonable price and their goods are usually
fresh, because they renew their stock
every morning. There are the interests
of the city to be considered, for the
streets are crowded at the very hours
when the business of the merchants of the
four seasons is most prosperous, that is
just before the breakfast time (noon) and
just before the hour for dinner. Finally,
the sluggard who is constantly saying to
himself: "A little more sleep?a little
more slumber," objects to their cries in
his street during the forenoon. Still,
they continue to exist, though often
threatened with extermination, and to retain
the privilege of certain streets at 1
certain hours, and even to station themselves
in a long line along the sidewalk in
certa'n quarters, like ttie market wagons
in an American city. "What was originally
granted to them as a privilege they
begin to claim as a right. They have a
corporation and lawyers to look after
their interests. They have their meetings
A NEWSDEALER,
and their own orators, and though they
belong to the invalid corps, and the influenza
sadly decimated their ranks this
winter, they fight their battle manfully.
It is a hard life getting up at daylight in
the morning and pushing a handcart
from morning to night in the muddy
streets in rain, sleet, wind and snow, and
it is only brave souls that can persevere
in it.
The cleansing of the foul linen of
Paris is a highly characteristic handicraft
which gives employment to some
thousands of women, old and youDg.
The washing is usually done in the immense
boats that one sec3 anchored to
both banks of the Seine from its entrance
into Paris at Charenton till it
quits its envirous at Asniercs. The boss
wiisherwoman has her place of business
5 11 ik. ? ,3 ??_
ill 11 ferritin ruuui uu mu ^iuuuu uuui iu
no matter what street, where the clothing
is received to be sent to the washhousos
nnd where it is ironed and prepared to
be sent home. The ironcr is a neatly
attired young woman, intelligent for her
station*, ready with a repartee for the
young male patrons of the establishment
and high y skilled in knocking the buttons
off your linen, plunging the nose of
the flatiron into your shirt-fronts aud
leaving abrasions in your collars and
cuffs. The ironcr wields the heavy flatiron
from an early hour in the morning
till a late hour at. night during the week.
On Sunday afternoon she goes to the
suburbs with her young man?an article
she is pretty sure to have?perhaps to
St. Cloud or Surcsucs, or even as far as
IJougival. The damsel who collects the
linen and delivers it, carries her immense
burdens with exemplary patience. If the
lanndry is in the suburbs the delivery is
effected by means of an old-fashioned
vehicle, driven by an elderly woman?
the business woinuu of the establishment
?who makes this her only occupation.
Rnmn bakers are born to wagons,
others achieve them, etc. If they do
not have them in any of the specified
ways they hive a handcart which consists
of a basket set on low wheels, which
CLEANEST CITY IT THE WOULD,
they put in charge of their more muscular
handmaiden to be trundled about the
city. Bread is the staff of life in France
.to an extent hardly conceivable in
America. A great part or tne presem
population makes its repasts the greater
part of the time on bread and wine or on
bread and cider. If bread is dear the
entire population of Paris gives a cry of
;agony. The commerce in bread is necessarily
immense, and employ a host of
women, who sell at the counter or arc engaged
in the delivery. Men are never
jsecn about the establishment. Their
presence is required at the kneading!
trough and oven, where they may be
seen, in a costume exceedingly primitive,
through the basement window at night
doing ijhcir part in the serious labor of
filling what Victor Hugo calls le ventre
de Paris. The bakcrcsscs present few
salient points of character. They are
generally neat and good-humored,
whether at the counter or in the street,
and the same may be said of those in the
pastry shops, which constitute, usually,
a separate and entirely distinct branch of
the trade. The bread deliverer has,
usually, her head covered with a handkerchief,
and when she leaves her basket,
enrrie? u portion of her burden, like
sticks of wood, suspended in front of
her in ;t cloth knotted at the shoulders.
It is the headgear of the portcresscs, that
is if they wear head covering at all, for it
is not uncommon to sec in Paris in winter
a woman braving a glacial wind or a
tempest of snow with her head unadorned
except by its luxuriant tresses.
Women divide with men the work of
street cleaning and collecting offal. Tt is
oftenest a woman, and a woman advanced
in years, her gray, uncombed locks straggling
from under a handkerchief, that, is
seen yielding a broom made of twigs,
and washing the streets with a liberal
supply of hydrant water, for the bituuiin
is as thoroughly scrubbed as a house door
every morning. It is women, women,
everywhere. One may travel from one end
MERCHANT OF THE FOUR SE VSON?.
of a Paris street to another and scarcely
sec a mnc in any of the shops, except
those where groceries or meat are sold.
At the markets it is the same: there are
only men at the butchers' stalls. At the
fish markets, especially at that of the
Central Market, which is immense and
admirably supplied and kept, there is not
a man to be seen. There is no doubt
these fish women have, like Shakespeare's
shrew, "a tongue with a tang," but unless
there is some extraordinary cause for
excitement everything is as calm as a
summer's morning. It is only women
that keep those convenient cnaiew sau
along the quays in all the public places
of the city. Half the restaurants of
Paris are served by bonnes in pretty caps,
who, no matter how assiduously
they perform their dut:es, always
have an eye open for eligible
conquest among the male patrons. In
Paris, nurses, though they come more or
less from all parts of the country, are
principally supplied by Brittany and
Auvergne. It was for the nounce3 or
nurses of Auvergnc that the melody was
written which afterward became so celebrated
in the Boulangist campaign under
the name of the "Pionpions of Auvcrgne."
One who sees the nurses with
their tender charges in the Champs Elysees
or the Luxembourg jardin on a fine
spring day would hardly suspect what is
a solemn fact, that the population of
France is at a standstill.?San Francisco
Chronicle. _
Spain's Baby King.
The youngest and smallest King in the
world is Alfonso XIII., of Spain, of
whom Golden Days presents the following
picture to youthful readers,: "Merrily
thu joy bells announced his acfvent to tho
good people of Madrid, and sent ministers,
foreign representatives, lords and
ladies in waiting and a hundred other
magnificos scurrying into their court
clothes and dashing off to the grand
ante-chamber in the palace, where they
waited with more or less patience and
impatience uutil the doors were thrown
open and the Prime Minister appeared,
carefully carrying on a velvet cushion,
covered with a lace veil, Lis very littlo
Royal Highness, King Alfonso XIH.
ALPHONSO XIII. OF SPAIN.
"Gravely, and with true Castilian
(lecortim, was the baby monarch presented
to the uoblc assemblage, and then
the Duchess Medina de las Torres took
him in her arms and bore him to his
mother, bidding her 'Kiss his Majesty,
the King!' Five days later there came
the christening, when the ceremonies
were of regal magnificence, and all the
.grandees flocked to do honor to the baby
Bourbon. Indeed, this tiny King seems
to have been born to ceremony, and in
his four years of life has assisted at many
public affairs.
"But little Alfonso is not a strong
child, and the past winter lie has been so
ill that great fears were entertained for
his life, llis high forehead, however,
bespeaks intelligence, and he is well
guarded and tended, while each summer
he goes with his mother and youug
sisters to the beautiful palace of 'La
Granja,' among the mountains, where he
i :~u~i^ r?r?f cni-?v nflnrs of
L'clLi J11UU1V HIV llil^luui, ?1"-J the
pine forests and lead a free country
life. Should he live he will remain in
the hands of nurses anil governesses
until he is seven, at which age he will be
turned over to a tutor and masters, to receive
a thorough education, while at
[ sixtecu he is to be prcscutcd to the
Corte.":, the Queen Regent will retire and
he become ruler in fact as well as in
name."
The Oldest Inhabitant.
Census Taker Bcthunc, of Mi Hedgeville,
Gn., in discharging his duties, rau
across the oldest inhabitant, and was puzzled
for awhile as to what entry to make
of her age. Jane Moore, colored, living
in the northern part ot tnecuy, gave ner
age as one hundred and twenty-one years.
.Mr. Bethune questioned her for some
time and discovered that the old woman
was a regular encyclopedia of the, early
days of American Independence. She
knew all about it?was there and saw it.
She remembered Washington and all of
the fathers. She remembered their
habits and eccentricities, and said that
she was married and had children when
Washington died. Her oldest living
child is eighty-eight years old, and since
its hirthshe has been blessed with twentyseven
other?. She is evidently not less
: than one hundred and ten years and may
be one hundred and tweuty-one, as she
says.?i\*<?a York Mercury.
I During the year 188'J the foot-aud
j mouth disease spread in nearly everj
part of the German Empire. In July,
August and September alone 78,50]
cattle were attacked, 53,530 sheep, 75J
goats, uud 15,917 swine.
i WILIUH1 limD.
"When sunset lights ore fading in the west,
And stars begin to gleam across the sky,
The tender twilight brings ire per.ce and
rest,
While, dear, to you my heart's bist longings
fly.
The miles that lie between us seem as
naught;
Your form comes gliding softly to my
chair,
And looking into mine with eyes love fraught,
Your lingers wander idly o'er my hair;
Your loving touch a benediction seems
That calls my nobler, truer self to life;
I long to realize my manhood's better
dreams
And be a worthier actor in the strife.
With purifying love your dark eyes shins, i
The last light fingers on your dusky hair.
And then you gently draw your hand from
mine;
I glance to where you knelt?you are not
there.
And so at twilight time my thoughts of you
Bridge over all the miles that intervene,
And bring you to me ever goqjJ and true,
With none to sever, naught to com9 between.
?Gay Yule, in Frank Leslie's.
PITH AND POINT, i
? Repudiated bonds?Sundered marriage
ties.?Detroit Free Press.
The real estate business is something
of a lot-tery.? Washington Post.
The going out of the tied?The departure
of the bride and groom from the
church after the ceremony.
A chiropodist announces on his business
cards that he has "removed corns
from several of the crowned heads of
Europe."? Cnee-a- Week.
A housemaid who sits down immediately
sftcr she has finished sweeping need
not consider it tantamount to dismissal
if told to get up and dust.
According to recent quotations sugar
remains firm. This is not surprising. It
has always been credited with having
more or less grit.?Detroit Free Press.
Said the husband, "rich and happy I would
surely be to-day
If my wife had never found the bargain
counter in her way."
? nasnmgion rosi.
Old Lady?"Ah,you bad boy, draggin'
your littlo brother along like that!
Spos'n you was to kill him?" Bad Boy?
"Don't care. Got another indoors."?
Fun.
"I think she has such beautiful eyes?
barring the tact that they -are a littlo
sharp." "Perhaps that is how you happened
to get struck on them."?Boston
Herald.
Caller?"So Mrs. Hyson is not at
home?" Servant?"That's what I said,
mum." Caller?"Well, please give her
ray respects as soon as you go in."?Chicago
Times.
He (newly married)?"I wish you
wouldn't call me '(bar' while we're in
company." She?"Why, Charles?" He
?"Because it makes me feel so cheap."
? West Shore.
"Grindstone, if it's a fair question
" "Stop right there Kijordan. It's
none of your business. If it w.ere a fair
tt/mi hflfrin it. lilffi that."
ijugouuu jwu uvu4v*M v -? .....?
Chicago Tribune.
The Herring to the Sardiue?1 'How are
you to-day?" The Sardine to the Herring
?'-Oh, I've struck oil! How are you?"
The Herring to the Sardine?"I'm in a
pickle."?Boston Courier.
"I saw the new picture of Johnson iu
the artist's studio." "Look like him?"
"I can't say; it was just finished; it
wasn't dry." "0! then it can't be like
Johnson."?Philadelphia Press.
How inconsistent some married men
are, to be sure. They are bitterly pj
posed to being tied down at home, but
do not hesitate to gather in knots about
the streets.?Detroit Fr?e Press.
A census enumerator in Aurora found
a woman with twenty-six children. At
two cents a name this family netted him
fifty-six cents. This is what the printers
would term a "fat take."?Chicago Post.
Minister?"I think I delivered a very
i.Tlnn't vmi
LUUUllI ll?? QC1IUCTU l/v-uitj *rvw ? J
think I moved the congregation?" Deacon?"I
know yOu did. I saw a good
many get up and go out."?Boston Herald.
' Billings?"There is only one way to
keep your trousers from bagging, and
i that is not to walk so much." Kingsley
?"Great Scott! Don't you know that
I'm the father of twins."?Clothier and
Furnisher.
Owner of Fish Pond (to man who is
trespassing)?"Don't you see that sign,
'No Fishing Here?' " Angler (with an
injured air)?"Yes, and J. dispute it.
Why, there's good fishing here; look at
this string."?Harpeis Weekly.
Wife?"Why, husband, I thought you
had more sense than to buy a cornet. You
know the fellow next door worries us:
nearly to death with his." Husband?
"Calm yourself, my dear. That's the ono
I bought."?Detroit Free Press.
"When did Rienzi die?" asked Witticus,
entering the fruiterer's. "Whatcher
talkin' about? I don't know nothin'
about no such person." "Then youj
should not advertise that you keep a full'
supply of dates."?Bazar
Cedric's mother was a New Yorker,;
1 '
OUC UCQHC WUl uuru iii liuoivu* \SM\Aric,
you are a naughty boy; you want a
licking," said she. "No, mother," returned
the child, bravely. "I may need
chastisement, but I do not want it."?
Harper's Bazar.
A Conductor's Mistako.
George T. Nicholson, General Passcngcr
Agent of the Santa Fe Railroad, is
very youthful iu appeurancc.aud recently
while riding over the line in Kansas
when the conductor took up his pass ho
) looked at Mr. Nicholson very skepticr
' ally, and at the next stop he got off and
t j sent the following telegram to headquarI
tors: "Young Nicholson is riding on the
I old man's pass, What must I do aboutiti".