Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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= VOL. IX. BARNWELL, S. » . .. C., THURSDAY, APRIL 1. 1886. NO. 3L A Land of Gladnaaa. How toftly flow, among Sonoma'* hHlx, -h«»rtfd riila: w *oniv Hie loo-cold spring*, the merry- lerfn aw Of/I *«*»», •MVi uavt* T-iiTTni ICU t 1US4 Fragrance of pine my Wandering fancy thrill*. Till, eren through the city's nolse built walls, 1 hear the chant of sudden waterfalls. Once more, through cedar houghs the black bird calls. There are wild cliffs ew Mendocino’s shore. And well I know the seaweed on the floor Of hidden caves, and many a marvel more. Pacific's heart hath legends wise and old; Go thou, and wait in voices manifold When storms are loose, to hoar the story told. Again I see gray mountains purely clad With gleaming snow, vast peaks forever clad— Such heights as these the elder singers had. Again one hails the sunlight's burst of foam On Laasen's peaks, on Shastu’s snowy dome, Where lilies bloom beneath the glacier's home. But best the redwood shade, the p'aoe it brings. Where fancies rise sa crystal mountain springs Beneath tall sings In rainless summers; dear the ferns which grow By cool Navarro, where sea-breezes blow And white azaleas touch the river s flow. —Charles Howard Shinn, In the Century for February. trees; and dear each bird that A SOLDIER’S TRUST. BY DAVID LOWKY. only “How wc will live Heaven knows! All is dark now.” Mrs. Paine sat down suddenly and lifted a hand to her eyes. Her daugh ter, Caroline, a bright, pretty girl of seventeen, noted among her associates for her energy and resolution, caught her breath suddenly. She was going to cry, but resolved not to yield now when her mother was overcome with dread of the future. The world had been the average world to Ellen Paine. She had enjoved its sweets till the war eame and robbed her of her husband for years. There were some jolts in life’s journey when he came home. He was not as strong as when he went away—Joet time, and of choice changed his vocation. Still content sweetened the tilings the gods provided the Paines through sickness and idleness; the increasing family and growing responsibilities all were ac cepted cheerfully till one day the sun •eemed to drop out of the firmament. Andrew Paine was brought home un conscious, a terrible accioent had hap pened; in twenty-four hours Mrs. Paine was a widow. Time moved on. Providence raised a friend to her in her brother-in-law, who found work for his nephew, and thus kept the roof over Mrs. Paine's head. Bnt death claimed the son. and then the burden begais to full on Carolina The mother strove to lighten it—to make the girl's life as joyous as she could. It was a dull life at best; the grind began when she fell ill with rheumatism. The future looked dark, but the uncle still turned the cloud aside until the silver lining shone again. Suddenly trade again, what t Idenly trade stopjied. Then it really seemed as if all the world stop ped. so far as Mrs. Paine and her daugh ter were concerned. The establishment where Caroline worked ceased opera tions unexpectedly. Mrs. Paine was unable to move a hand that month. Would they ever, even if work offered be able to catch up—to repay they owed? These were queries mother and daughter asked themselves an hundred times. Before the question was answered, fate—remorseless fate -swept away their last hope. The uncle, Arthur Paine, was summoned to his final account n with more swiftness than his brother. The two women -one suffering, in broken health; the other hungering for joys she saw herself forever abut out of — looked at each other fearfully. They did not dare to breathe theiff fears. The mother's heart ached for her child, the daughter's for her mother. But the world wrings answers from »il. The day came when the mother and daughter had t > speak plainly, and when it came, it found the mother as a babe. “Mother, there in iy be a way,” said Caroline Paine, hopefully. Mrs. Paine •hook her head, still keeping her eyes covered. “I’m sure mother—wait until Mr. Brooks pomes lu>nie. Then I will tell you what I mean.” • Mr. Brooks was well up In year*—an old bachelor who roomed on the same floor with the Paines. He was a clerk, with a varied experience. To Caroline he waaa walking encyclopedia. An hour later, Mr. Brooks, in response to Caroline’s request, stepped noiselessly into the room the Paines occupied. “Mr. Brooks,” said Caroline, briskly, •T want to ask yon about soldiers’ claims. You know what soldiers arc entitled to?” “I ought to. I was chief clerk for a claim agent eight years, and five year* in the Pension Office here.” Mr. Brooks wasted no words. He sat down, look ing inquiringly at the earnest face be fore him. “Then you can help us, Mr. Brooks. T want you to sell the land my father— or my mother is entitled to. Father never sold it, did he, mother?” Mrs. Paine looked bewildered. “What land?” “Why, the 160 acres I used to hear father say was lying out West waiting for him.” F dis irl’s —here he checked himself. The face fell. Why not soften the disap pointment “You see—there really never was anything in that. I mean—" “You don't mean father sold his claim?” Mr. Brooks couldn’t invent a lie, or he would have done it. He blurted out the truth: *Tve no doubt your father thought he was entitled to the land—” “Why, Mr. Brooks, I’ve heard him say, time and again, the Government owed him the land; that he would sell his claim when the time came if he ever was—was, as tee are now—hard press ed.” “I remember now; so he did,” said Mrs. Paine. “Caroline is right.” Mrs. Paine spoke cheerfully. ’The truth is the Government never really promised the land.” “Why, Mr. Brooks, I've heard of sol- 4iers selling their land warrants,” said Caroline. “So tbsy did. Miss; that’s just where the miefase was matje. You see, before the civil war, the Government gave soldiers land warrants; the volunteer* wens led to believe they’d get the ’Tea and pay In fold?’ “Yes—pay in gold. But they were paid in paper money, worth forty to sixty cents on the dollar, when gold see sawed up aud dowu. It was a swindle on the soldier, but a big thing it Inis proved for the bondholder.” “And mother has no claim to anv'- thW?” “Nbt an inch of land.” Caroline thought rapidly. “Then, since you know the law, she is entitled to pension money. Everybody knows my father lost his health in the army.” “Did he ever apply for a pension?” “He was too independent to do that,” said Mrs. Paine, wearily. “Well, if there never was anything done about it, it is too late non’. Is his doctor living?” “Dr. Hamilton is dead—ho was ottr physician for twenty years.” “No case,” said Brooks “Is there no way—no hope in any di rection?” Brooks jiondercd. It was disagree able, bnt the truth was best in this case. “I don’t see a glimmer of hope. Miss Paine—only disappointment. If your father had been wounded—lost an arm or leg—but, you see, dying so long after the war—making no sign -doctors dead —it’s a case debarred, as I might say." Caroline's brows contracted^ involun tarily. She looked at Brooks steadily, revolving new thoughts in her mind. “If a man lost an arm, and is in good health and can clerk just as well as ever he could—” Brooks anticipated her. “If he has an income of ten thousand a year, and only had his big toe hurt, he gets apen- siou. I know jieople who draw pensions for less.” “But a man whose health w^s bro ken—who couldn’t show anv wound— mud-” “Precisely, Miss Paine. A complica tion of diseases carries a man off. It don’t matter if he went into the army as healthy as any man who never had a pain or ache, or never was in bed a day in his life—if the doctors were sure the service ruined his health, there's lots of oases where its hard to prove it—they don't prove it in such cases, as a rule. If there was any doctor who could swear to the facts---" Mrs. Paine and her daughter shook their heads slowlv. “Thank you, Mr. Brooks.” How Brooks managed to get out of the room ho never knew himself. The picture the mother ami daughter pre sented at that moment was stamped on his memory forever. He thought so much about them that, instead of going to the theatre, he went to a cigar store where he was in the habit of meeting some friends, and, in a very discreet manner, set about collecting a little money “for a very worthy object." The next day, at noon, a tap sounded on Paine’s door. Caroline owned it on the instant, and. seeing Mr. Brooks, blushed. He spoke quickly, as if he had a great press of business on hand. “Miss Paine, a few friends—of your father's, I mean—they knew him very well, sent me with this and their com pliments.” Hem he broke down. Caroline’s eyes seemed to read his very soul. Brooks wanted to back out. Instead he ad vanced quickly to a small Udde, where Mrs. Paine was seated, deposited a bank note on the table, and, bowing to Caro line, withdrew so quickly she had not time to intercept the movement Mrs. Paine turned to look after him. Her elbow swept the bank note off the table. The draught caused by the quickly closed door Brooks pulled to after him swept the note under the open grate. Caroline sprang forward witli a smothered cry. Sne was not a moment too ijuick. A live coai ignited the note. She nad the presence of mind to crush it in her hand, at the risk of a broad blister. When she opened her hand slowly, onc-half the note had disap- peared. The half in her hand showed that it had been a ten-dollar note. She burst into tears. It seemed as if mis fortunes would never end. “What is it, Caroline?” “He gave us ten dollars, and it is lost.” She wept passionately. “It would have paid what we owe in the store, a month's rent, and left us two dollars.” “Burned—burned, Caroline? 11 -*— There was a world of anxiety, of da*ad. in Mrs. Paine's voice. Caroline extended her burned palm, on which lay the half of the note. “It is not all lost I read of ways to get money made right. I’m sure, some where. You can get /ice for it, may “Yes; but that would just pay the store bill. And then what could we do? But we'H see.” She dried her eyes bravely, laid the burned note carefully away, and re solved to make the most of it the next morning. She was dressed, and on her way to the office of the “Customs of the Port,” whither she had been directed, long be fore the office was opened. After walk ing an hour on the street, she returned, to oe told that it was a legal holiday, so no business would lie done that day. As she turned away, she stumbled upon Mr. Brooks. Would she tell him? Not for herself—but her mother. In ten words Brooks had the story. He expressed regret, r« fleeted, bid her wait at a drug store, and hastened to “a friend,” he said. Ho was absent fifteen or twenty minutes. When he returned, he handed her a crisp $5 note, talked about the weather; everything but money, got the burned note, ami bade her good-day in his brisk way. Carolina returned home, calling at a grocer’s on the way, and purchasing a Jew necessities —enough to keep body and soul together a little longer. As, from that hour their fortunes improved, somehow work came to her, and a physician kindly interested himself in Mrs. Paine’s case, to a degree that re stored her health. My story has no more to do with them, further than to state that the Grand Army of the Re public did for them what the Govern ment should have done. I will follow Brooks and the burned note. The next day Brooks dropped into the U. 8. —the great United Mates De pository, deliberately recited so much of the facts as concerned the gentlemanly eterk, and-was told the note, the whole note, would be replaced. He had Miss Caroline Paine make affidavit to the tML the burned note was forwarded, and in two weeks Brooks carried to her another $5; thus the Paines hatt ’ the benefit of the entire amount the little knot at the cigar store made up for her. The incident made a deep impression on Brooks. lie pondered over it, and pondered until he got to talking about it. From talking to his friends, he" got. to talking about it in the f'e.s-f. Finally he was inspired—I can think of no other ns fitting—to write a lecture, which he has lieen delivering with much earnest^ ness and unequivocal success all over the State. He begins with Paine’s vol untary four years serv’nc, exposes the swindle involved in the silence concern ing the land warrants when men signed muster-rolls, recites the slow pay-day experiences, calls up months of waiting by wives and children, compares the purchasing power of the soldiers' pay with the purchasing power of a silver dollar to-day, burns—singes the bond holders until there is nothing left of them, and winds up with the incident of the burnt note which the Government was honest enough to replace. He makes out very clearly—proves to every man within sound of his voice or logic, that tlic system—the financial system - the Government has pur-tied, is exactly as if every note given in payment to a soldier had been burned at one < ml burned a quarter, third, half or livc- eio’htlis. as the price of gold went and down. What is very curious, although some people say behind his back that Brooks is a blatherskite, nobody has ever -had the courage to tackle him face to face. An Klcctrtenl Engineer. HIS HAND WASN’T STEADY. Nor HU Eye Quick, but When HU Gun Went Off the Boys Felt SheepUh. There are two roads to take if you wisb to become an electrical engineer. Although this occupation of electrical engineering is so new, there are three colleges in our country where the tli o- retieal part of the profession is taught, namely* The si evens Institute of Tech nology, at Hoboken. New Jersey; the Uni vers'ty of Pennsylvania; and the Massachusetts Institute are the best known. If a young man has gone through the theoretical and partially practical training to be had in either of these institutions, he does pot require a great deal of actual exjicriencc in doing the work itself to lit him for undertak ing almost any task jiertaining to the calling. But some boys may not be able to spare the tine: or pay the money for tins collegiate part of the training. In that case, they endeavor to find employment j in one of the factories of the great com- j panics 1 have mentioned. To obtain admission, however. Ihey must be bright, | they must give good promise in the j taste they have for mechanical pursuits, | as well as in their habits, that they are suited for the profession they sock to en ter. Having obtained an entrance, they begin as ordinary employes, do- | ing the simplest kind of work or even drudgery; then they are transferred from one department to another, learn ing a little at each step they take; until, finally, they have a good knowledge of the manufacturing branch of the pro fession. From there they should go to the la boratory, where they obtain the scien tific knowledge of the business. To know how the different parts are put to gether is not of itself sufficient; they must be able to tell why they are put to gether in that particular way; it is just that knowledge which makes them elec trical engineers. Then they are sent out as assistants to the various electric-lighting stations or are temporarily placed in charge of plants which have just been established, and which some amateur engineer is learning how to run. Finally they may be put in charge of a lighting station,— that is, a building from which the light ing power is furnished for the lamps in the immediate neighborhood; and last ly, they may become members of the engineering corps, and put up the elec tric lights for some people in the man ner I have descriocd.—From "Ready for Business,” by George J. Munson, m SI. Nicholas for February. California Lizard's (Joecr Trick., “There are some curious cases among the geckos,” said a Los Angeles country naturalist. “Here is one dead that is called the leaf-tail gecko. You see the tail bulges out soon after leaving the body and assumes a leaf or arrow shape; hence the name of the animal. Now, when the little creature is chased you will see it dodge around a limb and hold up the curious leaf-like tail. That is all vou can boo, and so naturally, would think it a part of the tree itself. But the lizard has a more remarkable method of escape yet. We will imagine that you have tried to pluck the leaf. The animal drops clumsily to the ground and darts away among the rocks, where it attracts the attention of some of the hawks that arc forever prowling around. Immediately a chase ensues; the bird gains, and u finally about to pounce upon its prey, when all at once two liz ards appear, one making off, while the other aances up and down into the air and along the ground in a mysterious way, so that the astonished bird stops and looks. In the meantime the origi nal lizard escapes; the olkcr, that is really the tail, soon becomes quiescent You see the gecko Inis the faculty of throwing on its tail when hard pressed, and, while the pursuer's attention is drawn to the squirming member, the animal itself escapes.” “But it loses its tail?” suggested the reporter. ~ “Only for a time. They can repro duce this organ, and curiously enough, sometimes two tails are produced in stead of one."—.S'an Francisco Call. Two colored brothers fell oat in the church about a small matter. The of fending brother went to the offended one ami said: "Brudder, the Lord has forgiven nie, and won’t you?” Tho offended brother replied: “You go bring de Lord’s certificate that he has forgiven you, den 1 will see about de matter. John de Baptist required de Jews to bring a certificate of der repentance ’fore he would baptise tun.”—Newman (Ga.) Herald. +Z** T. V. Powderly, general master work man of the Knights of Labor, says; “11 every Is borer and every manufacturer would read daily a good paper and keep posted on topic* of the time I feel cer tain there would be lew trouble.” An Equinunk, Pa., correspondent writes: John Finley Teeplc, known all over northern Pennsylvania as Uncle Fin, was 79 years old his last birthday. For more than sixty years he hunted and trapped from the Delaware to the Allegheny, and never missed a season until two years ago. Then he made up his mind to take a rest, more because game was getting scarce than because he was tired. Ids two boys,. Lije and Sitn. could take care of all that was left, he said. From that time until a few days before the past deer season closed he hadn’t touched his gun —a gun that he claims has lain low beat and deer by the thousand. One morning recent ly he got out of bed and said to his son Lije: “Lije, I’m goin’ down in Pike county an' knock over deer before I hole up fur good.” Lije and the rest of the family tried to change Uncle Kin’s mind, for they thought he was too old to go tramping through the woods on a deer hunt. He was determined, however, and so his boys, Lije and Sim. fixed themselves bp, and got ready to go with the old hun ter. They went down on the Mast Hojie ridge, twenty-five miles from home. Sim drove for deer, and Unde Fin and Lije stood on the runwavs. “Father,” said Lije, “1guess I’ll stay close by you, for your hand Isn’t as steady as it was fifty years ago, and your eye isn't as quick. So Til keep Close by you, and if Sim sends a deer along anJ you miss it I'll knock it over!’’ "Ye will, hev?” exclaimed the old man, indignantly. “My han’ hain't ez stiddv ez twere fifty years ago, hain’t it? Nor my eye hain't so quick? Wall, now, my fresh young Nimrod, you jist plank ycrself over on that runway up vender half a mile or s*x an’ I’ll stay right whar I be. If a deer comes pitch- in’’long here’thin gunshot o’ me I’ll show yu wuther my han’ haint’ ez stid- dy or my eve hain’t ez quick ex they usety be. G’long with ye, an’ look out fur yer own han an’ eye!” "All right,” said Lije; “bnt if you lose the deer don’t blame mo.” Lije went reluctantly to the upper runway. Uncle Fin remained where he was. Sim went out on the ridge, and after an half hour or so started a rous ing buck. It was a good way off, but within reach, and he blazed away at it. It kept right on. It bounded down the ridge and passed along within good range of Lije. Lije .sent a bullet after it, but the buck kept right on. “Blame the luck!” said he. “Now, just for the old man’s contrariness, we’re liable to lose that deer. He won’t be able to see : t unless it runs over him, to say nothing of hitting it” The buck tore along through the brush, and was clearing thirty feet at a jump as it passisl Uncle Fin, a hundred yams away. His eyesight hadn't en tirely failed, for he saw tho buck. He drew bead on it, and let “old Betsey” sjreak. The buck gave two or three wild bounds, and fell in the brush. Uncle Fin didn't move toward it When the boys came up Lije asked the old man what he had shot^t “A buck, I reckon,” said he. “What'd you fellers blaze at?” "A big buck,” said Lije, “but I didn’t reach him. Which way did he ■go from here?” “Which way’d he go?” said Uncle Fin, contemptously. “\e heerd me shoot, didn’t ye? if you smart roosters don’t know how to handle a gun yit inebbe ye know how to dress a dead deer. If ve do, jist trot over yonder by that big hemlock an’ hang up that buck. I’d go an’do it, but by ban’ hain't ez stkldy ez 'twere lifter years ago, ye know, an’ my eyesight s failin'. Lije and Sim could hear the old man laugh all the way over to the hemlock tree, and when they found the buck ly ing there, dead as a mackeral, and with one builet-holc in it, and that tlirough the kidneys, they felt like butting their heads against a rook. They dressed the deer auu brought it in without a word. “It’s a tor'bio thing w’en a man gits old an’ shaky an’ durn nigh blind, hain’t it, boys'” said Unde Fin, serious ly, as the boys stumbled the buck on tho ground at Tils feet. ‘Tt’s the sappy young feller with stiddy nerves that knocks over the vcn’zin, hain’t it boys?” Then tho way this old man laughed made the boys feel more sheepish than ever. They took the big buck to Mast Hope, loaded it on the cars, and got home the same day they wtjnt away. But thq result of the hunt has satisfied Uncle Fin that lie made a mistake in re tiring from the chase two years ago. “I see I’ve got to go out an’ give them boys o’ mine a little more trainin’,” he says. “Why, if I were the side of a barn I wouldn’t bo ’feerd to stan’ up an’ let them boys peg away at mo all day, I’ll be on the turf ag’in next season, ez usual, an’ take ’em in han’ an’ 1’ am ’em sumphin!” ———————t 0 There are many curious facts in American history. Three Vice Presi dents, Gerry, Hendricks and Wilson, died in November at dates which might all come in a single week. No Presi dent, either in or out of office, has died in November, though six have died in July and four in June. Garfield died in September, Lincoln in April, Taylor in July and Harrison in April. Two Vice Presidents have been indicted for trev son. These were Aaron Burr and John C. Breckenridge. One Vice. President, John C. Calhoun, resigned his office, and seven men have held both Presi- dental and Vice Presidential chain. John Adams, Washington’s Vice Presi dent,succeeded him in the White House. Jefferson, Adams’ Vice President, did likewise, aud Martin Van Burcn, one of Jackson's Vice Presidents, was his successor. The other four became Pres ident bv death. They were Tyler, Kil- more, Johnson and Arthur. An Old-Time Negro Dance. From George W. Cable's illustrate rge paper, in tho February Century, acoom- S anied by the music of the Creole ances, wo quote the following: “It was a weird one. The negro of colonial Louisiana was a most grotesque figure. He was nearly nuked. Often his neck and arms, thighs, shanks, and splay feet were shninken, though, sinewy like a monkey’s. Sometimes it was scant diet and cruel labor that had made them so. Even the requirement of law was n that he should have not less than arrel of com—nothing else,—a month, nor get more than thirty lashes to the twenty-four hours. The whole world was cruder those times than pow; we must not judge them by our own. “Often the slave’s attire was only • cotton shirt, or a pair of pantaloons hanging in indecent tatters to his naked waist. The bond-woman was well clad who had on as much as a course ciiemisu and petticoat To add a tigiwn—a Mad ras handkerchief twisted into a turban —was high gentility, and tho number of kerchiefs beyond that one was the measure of absolute wealth. Some were rich in tignons; especially those who served within the house, and pleased the mistress,or even the master—there were Hngars in those days However, Congo Plains did not gather the house-servants so much as the •tield-hands.’” "These came in troops. See them; wilder than gypsies; wilder than the Moors and Arabs whose strong blood and features one sees at a glance in so many of them; gangs—as they arc called —gangs and gangs of them, from this nrtd that and yonder direction; tall, well-knit Senegalese from Cape Verde, black as ebony, with intelligent, kindly eves and long" straight, shapely noses; Mandingoea, from the Gambia River, lighter of color, of cruder form, and a cunning that shows in the countenance; whose enslavement seems specially a shame, their nation 'the merchants of Africa,’ dwelling in towns, industrious, thrifty, skilled iu commerce and hus bandry, and expert in the working of metals, even to silver and gold; and Foulahs, playfully miscalled •Poulards,' —fat chickens,—of goodly stature, and with a perceptible rose tint in the cheeks; and Sosos, famous warriors, dexterous with the African targe; and in contrast to these, with small ears, thick eyebrows, bright eyes, flat, up- turrted noses, shining skin, wide mouths and white teeth, the negroes of Guinea, true and unmixed, from the Gold Coast, the Slave Coast, and the Cape of Palms — not from the Grain Coast; the En glish hud that trade. See them come! Popoos, Cotocolies, Fidfts, Socoes, Ag- was, short, copper-oolorod Mines—what havoc the slavers did make!—and from interior Africa others equally proud and warlike; fierce Negroes and Foods; taw ny Awassas; Ibocs, so lighMxilored that one could not tell them from mulattoes but for their national tattooing; and the half-civilized and quick-witted but fe rocious Aranda, the original Voudou worshiper. And how many more! For hero come, ^Iso, men and women from all that great Congo coast,—Angola, Malimbe, Ambrice, etc.,—small, good- natured, sprightly 'boys,’ and gay gar rulous ‘gals,’ thicklipped but not Lat- tood; chattering, chaflering, singing.and guffawing as they come; these are they for whom the dance and the place are named, tho most numerous sort of ne- f ro in the colonies, the Congoes and ranc-Congoes, and though serpent worshipers, yet the gentlest and kind liest natures that came from Africa. Such was the company. Among these towa/i-tbat is, native Africans—there was, of course, an evergrowing number of negroes who proudly called them selves Creole negroes, that is, born in America; and at the present time there is only here and there an old native African to be met with, vain of his sin gularity and trembling on his staff.” Who are Fit fbr Marriage? $how the children, father, "Qiat “mother” is the loved queen of your heart and home. Teach the boys, by example, that mother and sister are to be treated with all gentle deference. Offer to tho weaker ones the pleasantest 9eat in the sunny window*, or by the fire, and see how infectious will be the courteous atmosphere about you. No woman, or womanly girl, but'will be touched to thtf cofie of her gentle heart by this thoughtfulness, and the maiden who steps out of such aJ|pme is hardly likely to sharpen iier fqngue or pen at the expense of mankind, for manhood means to her the strength upon which she may safely lean when she needs to be upheld; tho protection that is prompt when she needs defense; the voice that encourages and advises justly and gen erously. To become such a man's loved wife, is to her to open the door to all the gracious outreach of her mother’s life, as she has seen it day by day. To be come the husband of such a natural womanly girl, is the wedding of a wo man fit for wifehood with one of the men fit for husbands. Show me the man unfit for a husband and I will tell you something of his father and mother, if the life is ungracious the child ren who grow up in that home will be ungracious and distorted in their lives as plants deprived of snnshino and oxy gen grow stunted and awry, if they grow at all. Begin with the babies on your knee, mothers, and there will be no need to complain that: “There is none fit for marriage—no, not one'.”—Trebor Ohl, in Good Housekeeping. The following story, without a vouch ing story, \ er, is told on Mavor Rice; The day after his election to office he was applied to bv a street mendicant for aid. His Honor asked him what caused his pov erty. Ihe reply was, “I have fallen among thieves.' “Ah,” said the Mayor reflectively, “so have L” For sweet charity’* sake and the bond that existed between the two men the pauper received a quarter. —Paul Pumecr-trcs*. Some Peculiar People. Tho lugubrious man. He is happy onlv when he is miserable. But then, ho Is almost always miserable. Come what may, he can find something troublesome in it When the rain lays the annoying dust for other people it makes miserable mud for him, and when tho sunshine dries the vexing mud for others it makes tormenting dust for him. In his life every sijver lining has its cloud. If by any chance there comes a time when there is nothing to monrn for lie sends out Ills imagination to find something. If the weather is just as he wishes it to be he sets himself to think ing on what it will be next August and works himself into what is vulgarly called a sweat. In one way or another he is in a sweat most of the time. When he has no troubles of his own he shoul ders some of those which his neighbprs ought to have. He mourns to see Jones eating hafdtboiled eggs year after year in utter unconsciousness that he is ro- ining Ids digestion. It grieves him to know that Smith keep* right on riding a bicycle after he has been warned time ami again of the dreadful consequences of a “header”; and it tears Ins very soul to see Robinson persist in wearing a plug hat without an airhole in it, wnen it lias been demonstrated so very clear ly that this sort of thing has been known to produce baldness. 'Hie lugubrious man is not a pleasing person to have around, but after ail ho serves a pur- C i. If he absorb* all the sadness of neighborhood he leaves the rest of the people comparatively free to enjoy themselves as they go. The funny man. He isn’t funny, but that is not his fault. He trie* hard enough. He seem* to think the aim of all projtcr Life is to make people laugh at hiul; ami sometimes he accomplishes this. Most of the people, however, laugh at him when he is not around. You will find him wherever there is a crowd. No matter what the object of the assemblage may be, he i* there with his joke, . He sits at the barber-ahop awaiting his turn and tclltf the barber to be careful not to dull his razor on his friend's cheek. Tills being a joke he laughs at it How would anybody know it was funny if nobody Laughed at it? Bresentiy hi* turn comes and be tells the barber that he will make no charge for letting him hone his razor on Ids cheek. Nobody laughs, and he ven tures the explanatory remark that a razor may be honed on his adamantine cheek. Still nobody laughs—that ia, nobody but himself, and that is sub stantially nobody. If you don't find bim in the barber-shop look out for him in tho railroad car. When the brake- man announces that "this train will not stop between Riverside aud Downer's Grove" the funny man shouts: "Who said it wqnld?” This makes him laugh all ovcr.but the brakeman and the other pasMciigt-is look tired, and travel-worn, ami sorry they didn't get off at the last station, 1 he funny man is also epi demic at social gatherings. He likes social gatherings, because there have to laugh at his remarks i they waul to or nob It is oue of the drawbacks of a social gathering that everybody has to pretemlto enjoy every thing about it, eveu to tho fanny man. If the funny man and the lugubrious man oould be tied together by the heels and flung over a clothes-line society would try very hard to accept the aitna. tio*» philosophically and with due resig nation.— Chicago News. Q le er wrnmmmmm inssnro ukk% “On one occasion,” says Ben Perley Poore, “Daniel Webster, when visiting the old hall of the House of Representa tives, had his attention called to\he re markable echo which repeated audibly everything that was said from certain places vm the floor. He was told that this had the good effect of preventing certain members, whose seats were in those parts of the House, from speaking, and one was mentioned especially who would otherwise have grumbled over every appropriation. Mr. Webster wrote on an envelope: "Old jrrowlfhf Polk, frow Tennessee, Bays very little In this meeting. Simply beeauseTtwlxt you and me) His speeches will not bear repeating." Mr. Van Zandt, ex-Govemor Rhode Lditud. is chaffed soinetinM* cause of his Dutch-Yankee anoeetry tail them,” says he, “we are all up in blood in this country Ilk* of be- “I People Who Wear Ttffcts. “One of the principal article* w* aull,’’ said a stage costumer to a report' er for the New York Mail and Express, “is tights. They are not only used on the stage, but in almost every show in the eonntry. The demand tor them now is large.” “Do they wear out easily?” “That depends entirely on the kind of show tho wearer is acting ip Pipput riders wear the most. It’s the rosin on the horse’s back that does that Thao the wearer perspiring makes it necessary to have them washed every time they are used. A bareback circus rider wifi wear out one or two pair a week They cost all the way from $3 a pair up to al most any price. The average 'pair for circus people costs 96. They are plain woven tights, but very strong. There are innumerable varieties in material, in styles, in colors and still more in fits. St cheapest tight are made of cotton, are made in all colon, flesh. wflTO, black, unbleached, chocolate and Then there are fine cotton tights. Lisle thread tights, French cotton tights and silk tights. ’ “Do you sell them ready-made or make them to order?” “The best qualities are all made to measure. We have the make-op or model of a number of actresses, and can make them as often as they are wanted.” “What do you mean by the make-up?” “You don’t suppose these people have the goods made to fit their true forms, do you? Not more than one-fifth of them havsi their tight-fitting clothes made without padding. How would a premier danseose look poring before her audience if her costume were not made to give her a soft, roondsd We make padded skirts, L appearance? padded hips, stsps, padded ladded arms, padded instepe, pn& thighs, paddsd legs, and. in mot, padded everything. The pads are made oi Am amb’s wool When a large is organized we hare to go into this In a Fresno, CaL. barbrir shop tksy DriJttby. i agent of the oTMaii furnish mosic for the harbor* to I Thai diana of Maine reports their number at AS1, all farmers. Ex-Secretary Kirkwood, who haa re tired from politic* ia living at Ipwa City,, where he owna a bank In leveling a hill in EaatLoa Angelas, Cal., lately for the rsridsnee of Enron Roquiat, the workmen onoovarsd a two- foot edge of gold-bearing quarts, assay ing $9 at ths surface. Some Indian arrow-heads worn lately shown at the Seeiete d’Antbropologie which were poisoned with enrmre over a century ago, but still retained thri " deadly power. Small animals scratched with them died in half aa hour. George M. Palmer, a Philadelphia baker, haa buried aix children and married a third wife withia a year. The bridegroom, hie son, and a Journey man baker wars all sick the day of the wedding; but Mr. Palmer managed to pull himself together sufficient iy to go through with ths ceremony. The food of Burmese pee sa tits Lnoindes almost all kinds of reptika, the grab of a ball-rolling beetle, a kind of snt which constructs nests of leaves in treetops (eaten in carries), and hill rata. Too last named exist in such hordes that their consumption is almost a neeeaalty to prevent the rats from sating the Burmese. Charles M. O’Connor, First-Ueufsn- ant of the Eighth Infantiy, is the JPoo- Bah of the United States army, tie is on duty at Fort Brown, Tsol, where he serve* in the mnltifariooa roles of Post Adjutant, Post Treasurer, Post Bang* Officer. Acting Signal Officer, Becom ing Officer, and Superintendent of the Post Schools. Mrs. Lily Macalllster Laughton, Ba- gent of the Mount Vernon Association, is asserted to have “the smallest and most perfectly formed foot in Amariua.” She once gave one of her riippei* to a charitable fair, where it waa raffled for. The lucky number wae seeusud by Biahop Potter’s son Frank, who his pnae as a watch-case. A Curious oldmoin < lime kila oo North her*burg, Pa. It has ths “In commemoration of the eitinotiou of Colonial alavety throughout the British dominions in the reign of WHUana IV.” The reverse side has ths figure of a slave with hie ehsekies broken, and the words: “This is the Lard's doing,ITfli.” Mr. Blaine, while address I a* a re union of Main* legislators lately, de plored the ehaage from annual to Mon- nisi elections aud ssssinessf the IscWa- turea, saying: “People mu themselves, or somebody will era them, and those is no way to! popular Mveramant fresh, strong, pad effective Uko frequent and well-conteeted elections." M. de Lsaeaps, who I* about to leave Park for Panama, aaid in an interview with the Oaulois concerning the Isth mus Canal: “I do not antidpata any fntnra obstacle*. The parted of expsrv- ment k passed, and only that of < tion remains. Every one of tractor* will Imvn hk work 81st of Dscsmbsc, 1899. I shall aafl through the canal that dav-” ^Oeaqj^^ptosijrnj^tormarim JMbkjjh yuan aga. Bs _ volvsd, and want to West mT Ho ruler of this Evekas and prohit Eden know out vkh to hk a rial* and kaarpaski lei u Upograaa widow and# full an# ply of Kontaoky Bovbon. The English hangman. Berry 'by k a tall, rsspastohls looking with ths appanrnooa of n mo- He I* aSosmakar by trad* rat doe* not work now, as (he auseo- r k well paid. Hs goto 990 a head, or, whmi thsmnm-mon than oa*9i0 !or ths firut, 939 for the second, and 9tft or tho third, with all The first aamntial k Binn* who was • braggart, and He would nnoke hk ▼«7 cusorivriy. ; rirk will be sligkt- bow-kggod. We padding business tome of the prettiest ly knock-kneed or _ have to straighten them out and produce the fine Venus-like looking forms that you sec on the stages. We have artists who make a specialty of thl* and in ■ome-very particular cam they maW* ' ' of the sotrees, and model ^paid. Barry preceded him, liked publkfty. tie outside half Md had itionsf Is obttged to the night bslors a hanging, who was famous for so may June* urns also a shoemaker, sad. His Barry, a quiet, retiring man. Mil* ds la Barnes, known to adsrs as “OuMa*** is dssodhad bj i who saw har on a Tiomnos drivh for first tima as above ths asan) afntarodf voaafca. Bar Tha figure was grneafiri and Ml* Bnt eyes! Ono momuto tiriff Wffih a they ware a would have bean ai i for the about polities as ahonl ths the model and then make the gooJa^p” A Frenchman has invented a gal- vano-plastio process which, he think* will preserve the human body indefi nitely by inclosing it in an airtight coat of mail. The body k first covered with a conducting substance, such as phftnbago, or it k bathed with isola tion of nitrate of rilver, which, altar do- composition under the influence of sun light, leaves a finely divided deposit of metallic silver. It k then placed ha a hath of sulphate of -copper sad con nected with several wires hum a hah tery. The result k that fee body is i»- ~ ia a akin of eeuas* wlrfih the money in small aQv*r coins 'll by which ths •and what aft ths h ths