The Abbeville messenger. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1884-1887, December 08, 1885, Image 7
Contentment.
We war glttin' on tol'able well?
Matildy, the cliilders an' mo?
If wo didn't out much of a swell,
Wo war snug as wo wantod to bo.
Thor war plenty to do in them times,
An,' a'tliough 'twa'n't so very big pay,
Wo managed to save a few dimos
On our dollar'n a quarter a day.
But there camo a rioh banker along,
An' he built a house over the way.
Then ov'rvthing seemed to go wrong
With Matildy nn' me Tm that day?
Our cottage got dreadfully email,
An' we wanted, as never before,
A porch, Hn' bay-window, an' hall,
An' our name on a plate on the door..
Now, I never was much on advioo,
But thero's one thing I reckon I know:
"When a man's got enough to suffice,
He'd bbtter just keep along so,
An' mind his own business alono,
An' not give his jealousy vent,
For the best thing a poor man cau own
Is a stock of good-natured content.
?Chicatio JMewa.
CURED.
Yeter Patterson was ill?at least he
thought so?and depressed; he had a
headache and he hated the dusty
streets, in which the summer heat
burnt and the summer sun shone before
the green leaves had draped the
trees, and potted geraniums, which
had come to be so blessedly popular in
New York, lent their summer freshness.
"What shall I do, doctor?" he said.
"'You say nothing ails me, but I can
tell what my feelings are better than
you can. I know I shall be down
with something soon. I rode in a car
with a half-dozen dirty children the
other day?to the small-pox hospital,
I haven't a doubt -very red and nasty
looking, all of them; and while I was
buying something in a store down
Broadway the other day a horrid old
woman begged of me because her husband
was sick with typhoid fever.
No doubt I have caught both diseases,
and it's the complication that puzzles
you. Couldn't relish my coffee this
^ morning; left my milk toast untouched.
Hateful life, that of a bachelor at a
hotel. Oh, dear me !"
"Why don't you marry, then ?" said
the doctor.
"They need s? much courting," said
Patterson. "You Bpend six months or
so, at least, dangling at a woman's
apron strings. You must go to the
theatre and opera if she is gay, and to
church if she is pious. At fifty a man
likes his slippers and dressing-gown and
chair of an evening. Jf it was just
stepping over to the clergyman's and
getting married, putting a ring on her
linger and saying or nodding yes two
or three times, why I wouldn't mind
it, you know."
Ah, well, courting is the fun of it
all, in my opinion," said the old doctor,
"bu-t every one to his taste. And my
advice to you is to get out into the
country."
"To another hotel and more merceoy
ary waiters I" said Mr. Patterson.
"No," said the doctor; "go to a nice,
private home. I know one?a motherly
widow lady, who cooks a dinner fit for
a king. River before the house, woods
behind it, orchard to the left, kitchen
garden to the right; no fever and ague;
txo mosquitoes. Heavenly ! I am going
up there to-morrow, and I'll see if
she'll take you."
"Very well," said Mr. Patterson; "I
think I will try it."
"And you must drink plenty of milk
and eat plenty of nice home-made
. bread."
'Yes, I will," said Patterson, overjoyed
at least at hearing something
that sounded like a prescription. "And
yon would advise milk?"
"Quart of it every day,'* said the
doctor.
"I'll take a note of it," said Patterson,
"and if I should be very ill she'll
nurse me."
"Splendidly", said the doctor, and
went his way.
Mr. Patterson thought the matter
over and (bought better of it every
day, and when the little note informing
hiin that the widow Would be willing
to "take him . in an# do for him"
reached him, he had his trunjc and
portmanteau already packed, and was
Teadv to start that afternoon. As for
mo whiuw, ins aocwr naa prepared
her for her boarders peculiarities thus:
"Nice fellow; social; plenty of mon>
-ev; thinks himself ill, but isu't; ought
to be married; told him so, but he
hates the idea of courting; marry oft
some day, no doubt. 'Will you have
me?* *Yes.' Call in clergyman, but
then old bachelors are peculiar generally."
The widow was a smart woman.
She had married at sixteen, and had
f, never fatfed to have her washing ovei
when other people were hanging out
theirs. Her bread always rose, her
-cake wa* always good and her butter
always aw^et,. At forty-five she had
>married off all her daughters, was
^ , well-to-do, buxom and happy.
^ Her son and his wife boarded with
A
her, and she added to her plenHful
savings by taking a summer boarder
or two, if they happened to offer.
"Fifty and a bachelor," said Mrs.
Muntle, looking in the glass. "Well,
it seems a pity; but when elderly
gentlemen marry it is to some hitytity
girl that leads them a terrible life,
and likely it's for the best."
Then she looked in the glass again;
for the widow was but a woman, after
all.
Mr. Patterson came to the widow's
and obeyed the doctor's prescription
carefully. He ate bread and milk,
robbed the orchard like a school-boy,
and reclined over the strawberry shortcake
after a fashion that would have
inaue nis reputation at tne oar. xnen,
too, Mrs. Muntle did not smile at his
aches and pains and insist that he
must be perpetually well because he had
a fresh complexion and dimples on his
cheeks. She had savory herb teas and
potions which she produced when he
complained of feeling miserable.
For two months and more, Mr. Patterson
boarded with Mrs. Muntle, and
j happier months he never lived through,
j Then he went back to the city for a
1 few weeks, returning in urgent need
i of more pellets from the medicine
i chest, and staying until the last pink
! chrysanthemum was blooming on its
j withered branches. lie had grown so
: fond of his little room, with its white
j curtains and fresh grass-bleached linen,
I of the country good things and of the
i buxom Mrs. Muntle, that he could not
I
: bear the thought of parting with them
altogether.
| After all, why could he not buy a
house and get Mrs. Muntle to keep it
ior mm? ferliaps she would. He
would offer a high salary, and she
could have plenty of servants. Then,
; indeed, he might have friends to dine
| with him, and be as happy as possible,
j If only he could approach his hostess,
showing her as he did so that he con
sidered her his equal and a lady?and
all that she certainly was; a clergy.
man's daughter and the widow of a
| country doctor.
! if?n. ?...k - : J 11 i. _ e 11 ?
| aivci uiuui uuuaiuuiiiuuu lie iiuttuy
i mustered courage for the effort, and
| walked into the front parlor and sent
; the servant to ask Mrs. Muntle to
! please step there for a moment,
j "Gracious !" thought Mrs. Muntle
! to herself; "what can he want?"
| Then she blushed brightly, settled
her necktie, took off her apron and
; walked demurely in.
I "Be seated, ma'am," said Mr. Patterson.
"Sit here please. Allow me
to sit near you, as I have something to
ask which may require some consideration."
"Oh, dear, it is coming I" thought
Mrs. Muntle.
"I suppose you know I'm a man of
considerable means, ma'am," said the
oia bachelor, "able to buy a nice
house, furnish it well and live in it
i comfortably?"
j "So I've understood, Mr. Patterson,"
i said the widow.
"And of course it is 'pleasanter to
; live that way than at a hotel," said
Mr. Patterson.
j "I should judge it might be," said
J Mrs. Muntlo cautiously.
j "You judge rightly," said Mr. Patterson;
"but you know a bachelor
must be in the hands of servants if he
i keeps a house. A gentleman doesn't
want that; he wants a lady to superinj
tend things for him?some one of
taste and refinement and all that.
Common people don't understand his
.1!-. >
: iceuuga, uuu mercenary servants are a
poor dependence."
"1 know that," said Mrs. Muntle.
"You are almost as much alone as I,
aren't you, Mrs. Muntle?" said Mr.
Patterson, coaxingly.
"The doctor knew him. He's going
; to do it just as he said he would if he
ever did," said the lady to herself,
j Aloud she answered: "Well, sir, I am
pretty free, it is true. All my chili
dren are married well."
"I know money would be no object
to you," said Mr. Patterson. "You
V. l- T1..J. 1AT a i **
uavo euuugu. jjui n i was io ieu you
that I hated boarding-houses and
; wanted a home, I think you would
have pity on me. I'll buy a beautiful
house, and you shall have complete
control of everything; only to make
1 my strawberry short-cake for me all
: my life."
He paused and looked at the lady.
"That is delicately put," he thought
, "Now will you hire out for a houae>
keeper, I wonder."
, "I ain't romantic, though," said
Mrs. Muntle; "but still we ain't young
M --- J ii A- - i - ^
ueitucr ul us, uuu iu guui to utJ jusi
j that with the most sentimental aftei
I awhile."
"Don't refuse me," pleaded Mr. Patterson.
"Well, Mr. Patterson, I won't," said
Mrs. Muntle. "I'm my own mistress
and though I've never thought of i
second marriage, why I think l'n
1 warranted in making one. And n<
1, doubt I shall never repent, for 1 thinfc
i you've a fine disposition, and I under1
stand your ways and tastes."
' . ." ' ' '
\
Mr. Patterson listened. lie saw
what he had done?proposed and been
accepted without having any idea of
what he was about. He looked at
Mrs. Muntle. She was very nice and
comely and ten years his junior, at
least, if she was forty. He could not
have done a better thing, and would
be married without any troublesome
courting. So he at once put his arm
around Mrs. Muntle's waist and said:
"Thank you, my dear. I consider
myself very fortunate."
He wrote to hi3 good doctor in
about a fortnight's time, to tell him
that he had taken both his prescriptions;
was a married man and intended
to bring his bride home about the
first of the new. year.
Elephant Talk.
Mr. George P. Sanderson, whose position
as officer in charge of the Government
elephant-catching establishment
in India has given him a greater
familiarity with that animal and its
i u:i- 1 *?
uiiuits iuaa pernaps any oiner man
living, says that elephants make use
of a great variety of sounds in communicating
with each other, and in
expressing their wants and feelings.
Some are uttered by the trunk, some
by the throat. The conjunctures in
which either meaDs of expression is
employed cannot be strictly classified,
as fear, pleasure, want, and other emoi
tions, are sometimes indicated by the
I trunk, sometimes by the throat. An
elephant rushing upon an assailant
trumpets shrilly with fury, but if enraged
by wounds or other causes, and
brooding by itself, it expresses its anI
/*or Vvrr o nnrxfin J ?- ?
I gvi WJ u buubiuucu IIUU1SC )^1 UI11U1ILIX |
from the throat.
] Fear is similarly expressed in a
i shrill, brassy trumpet, or by a roar
from the lungs. Pleasure by a continued
low squeaking through the trunk,
or an almost inaudible purring sound
I from the throat. Want?as a calf
calling its mother?is chiefly expressed
by the throat. A peculiar sound is
i made use of by elephants to express
| dislike or apprehension, and at the
| same time to intimidate, as when the
j cause of* some alarm has not been
; clearly ascertained, and the animals
j wish to deter an intruder. It is proj
duced by rapping the end of the trunk
: smartly on the ground, a current of
{air hitherto retained being sharply
emitted through the trunk, as from a
valve, at the moment of impact. The
sound made resembles that of a large
sheet of tin rapidly doubled. It has
I been erroneously ascribed by some
, writers to the animals beating their
sides with th*?ir t.rnnlr
The name waiter, in treating of elephantine
traits, says: "It is exceedingly
entertaining to note the gravity
of young calves, and the way in which
they keep close to their bulky mothers.
The extreme gentleness of elephants,
the care they take never to push
against, or step upon, their attendants,
doubtless arises from instinctive feeling
designed for the protection of
their young, which a rough, though
unintentional, push or blow with the
legs of such huge animals would at
once kill.
"Amongst all created creatures the
elephant stands unrivalled in gentleness.
The most intelligent horse can
not be depended upon not to tread on
his master's toes, and if terriUe^,
makes no hesitation in dashing away,
even should he upset any one in so
doing. But elephants, even huge
tuskers, whose heads are high in the
Air, and whose keepers are mere pigmies
beside them, are so cautious that
accidents very seldom occur through
carelessness on their part."?Youth's
Companion.
Formation of an Iceberg.
The birth of a huge iceberg, a phenomenon
that has been seen only once
or twice by a European, and to a certain
extent has remained a matter of
theory, was observed by the Danish
' | explorers on the east coast of Greenland
last summer. The bergs are
| j formed by breaking oft from the end of
glaciers extending from the perpetual
| j ice of the unexplored interior to the
coast and into the sea. The water
buoys up the sea end of the glacier un^
til it breaks by its own weight with a
noise that sounds like loud thunder
miles away. The commotion of the
water, as the iceberg turns over and
over in the effort to attain its balance
is felt to a great distance along the
coast. The natives regard it as the
work of evil spirits, and believe that
' to look upon the glacier in its throes is
' death. The Danish officers, when observing
the breaking off of the end of
the ffreat irlacier Pnfnsnrti?lr fhrnnoh
their telescope*, were roughly ordered
1 by their Esquimau escort, usually sub;
missive enough, to follow their exami
pie and turn their backs on the infceri
esting scene. They had happily com>
pleted their observations, and avoided
: an embarrassing conflict with their
crew by a seaming compliance with
the order.
FROM BULL RUN TO LIBBY. j
A. Reminiscence of the Noted
Confederate Prison.
What it Ooet a Congressman to See the
Pirst Fight of the "War.
"It was a happy morning for Alfred
Ely when Charles J. Faulkner walked
into our office at Libby," said Captain
Warner, the former Quartermaster at
Libby Prison, to a Chicago Herald
correspondent at Centralia, 111. "Ely
had exhausted the vast resources of an
inventive mind to have his government
get him out of the predicament
which had befallen him by reason of
his venturesome trip to see the first
battle of Ball Run. The Lincoln Adminstration,
while anxious and willing
l-A k : ? 1. 1 - 1 ? *
iu icbuiu linn t.u ins peupio, uouiu nob
make a general exchange of prisoner h
(a consummation repeatedly sought
for by El) ) without recognizing the
seceding states a belligerent power,
and, along with other men who had
met a similar fate, he was forced to
remain our prisoner. "I well remember
the morning Faulkner arrived at
Richmond. He, as you know, had
been Minister to the Court of St.
James's, and when the war broke out
lie came home and was arrested and
cast into a Northern prison. He was
afterward allowed to proceed on his
parole to the South for the purpose of
bringing about his exchange with Ely.
The people in Richmond received him
with open arms. He was exceedingly
popular and when he made known the
terms of his exchange the authorities
said they would give a half dozen Elys
j for him. He came to the prison office
and in the absence of General
j Winder I received him, and he at once
made known his business. I was
much pleased, not only because of
Faulkner's return, but because 1 was
glad to see Ely return to his home. I
at once went to hunt Ely, and finding
him T qoiiI 1
| tjutu* JJIT y J UUl I tTU tJt3LLl t3L H<iS
come.' I took him into the office and
there introduced them. Of course the
meeting was mutually agreeable. Some
Northern people had intrusted to
Faulkner a sum of money ($200) in
gold dollars to be distributed among
the most needy prisoners. The money
Captain Gibbs, the prison commander,
turned over to Ely, who, in company
with Lieutenant Booker, officer of the
d?iy, went among the men and faithfully
discharged their duty. It so
happened that a certain Carpenter
thought Ely had not dealt fairly with
iiim in the distribution of the money,
and he get even with him in a manner
which 1 shall now relate. Ely had
done a great deal of writing while a
prisoner, and he wanted to take all of
his papers along with him should he
ever be released, lie therefore asked
me to allow tho carpenter to make
him a trunk in which to pack his
effects. I did so, but Ely imagined
that we would not allow him to take
all, so he prevailed on the carpenter to
construct a secret receptacle in the
bottom of the box. Afterward he
found out that there would be no
trouble in his taking anything he
wanted, and, for fear we would discover
his trick, he tore out the fixture
without telling the carpenter what he
had done. After Faulkner came and
Ely was exchanged the carpenter
blowed the wholebusinessto an officer.
uuu ? man was sent out in. not haste
to capture both Ely and his trunk.
Tie went aboard the truce boat and
bored a biff hole in the bottom of the
box, but of course it was a false alarm,
and the distinguished ex-prisoner was
allowed to proceed on his way rejoicing."
Captain "Warner, who related
the above, now resides here. lie is
favorably mentioned in Ely's book on
Libby Prison as being kind to Union
prisoners. Ely, as all remember, was
the Congressman from the Rochester,
N". V.. district, who went down to soe
the sights at J lull Hun tight, and was
aU?Mi a prisoner and taken to Libby.
IIh is now residing at Rochester,
X. Y. i
IVaiiiIikv nf IViifnt*
The tannin of tea is thrown down
l?y the lime of hard water, so th it if
i?-a is infused in hard water at least
me-third is wasted. II;ir?l water
used for boiling meat and vefletaihles
extracts their juices less thoroughly
than nofc water does. Potatoes contain
75 per cent, of water; turnips, 90(
per cent:; milk, 873 parts. The quality
of water when pure is not impaired
by stagnancy nor liable to fermentation,
decay or putrescence; it would
keep 5000 years and be neither better
nor worse for keeping.
Four closed jars, burled seventeen
centuries at Pompeii, and taken from
there, were found to contain atom 'or
atom as the satna free air we breathe.
The same Is said of water. An influx
of organic refuse into a stream will
affect it for several miles in its course,
but at a longer distance the oxidation of
the foreign mutter will take place and
will rpstori* the water to> a purified
state.?Philadelphia News.
^^sbSBSBKSKBB^^^^BSSSBSSSL
The Mussel.
What really prevents the mussel being
more extensively used In thie
country is the dread of its poisonous
qualities. This evil reputation is not
unfounded, though in reality a death
or an illness from mussel poisoning is
much rarer than a similar misadventure
from eating the wrong kind oi
fungus. Along the coast, in theii
natural condition, especially wheu
picked from the coppered piles ol
wharves and piers, they are sometimes
ill-conditioned. But reared in beds, the
are invariably plump, delicate in llavor,
and perfectly safe as food. It is generally
something extraneous rathei
than any disease inherent in the mussel,
that occasions the bad repute under
which they labor. The worst case
happened some sixty years ago, when
no fewer than thirty people in Leith
showed serious symptoms of poisoning,
and two of them died; but it was
proved that the mussels had been
gathered from the copper sheathed
piles of the docks. It is true, however,
that under certain circumstances, putrescent
sewage matter and the poisonous
spawn of its enemy, the star
fish, have been believed to make the
mussel unwholesome food. At particular
periods, also, various molluscs
are injurious, while at others they are
perfectly wholesome. The ovster.
though not actually poisonous when
out of season, is by no means suitable
for the table, and probably the mussel
shares its peculiarities in this respect.
A near ally of the mussel, the Mediterranean
Noah's Ark shell, is eaten with
perfect safety during the entire year,
except summer months?a fact well
known to the Neapolitans, who rarely
infringe the rule without disastrous
consequences. Every sort of shell
fish is liable to this drawback; three
years ago two children were alleged to
have died at Rothesay from the eating
of periwinkles. The nature of the
ground has likewise a marked effect
on the quality. In Falmouth Bay,
some mussels, picked over the place
where a copper loba cropped out, were
so impregnated with verdigris that a
hundred of them calcined in a crucible
yielded a bead of metal as big as a
pin's head. However, if proper precautions
are taken, the mussel is perfectly
safe. It is, moreover, so easily
cultivated that, in Kiel Bay, branches
laid down in the sea are taken up two
or three years later laden with a marketable
crop. The alarm produced by
the idea of its noxious qualities undoubtedly
does much to stop its consumption.
Fashion, nevertheless, is
not guiltless in the matter. At one
time, for example, tho mussel was extensively
eaten in Edinburgh. Nowadays
it is in such scant demand that
a Newhaven fishwife is recorded, in
describing the condition of a spiritless
sister, to have lamented that she never
"rose aboon mussels."?London
TeUgrapli.
Til A Wolllth A# <'1.111
t* vauiu V? VltllAt
The world's supply of nitrate ol
soda and guano has been obtained
from the arid rainless west coast regions
of South America. Along the
southern coast of Peru are a series of
rocky, desolate islands on which no
rain ever falls and only the gentlest
breezes sweep. There are at present,
. as there have been for centuries, myriads
of sea-birds along the coast, and
they, with thousands of sea lions, live,
breed and die upon these islands.
Guano is a mixture of the excrement
of these seals and birds, the decomposed
bodies of both smd the bones of
the fishes which have been their food.
These deposits have been accumulat|
ing for centuries and in many places
are hundreds of feet deep, baked into
a solid mass by the tropical sun.
These masses of guano were worked
by the Peruvian Government from
j 184D, wncn ttietr value as fertilizers
j became understood, up to the war
' witb Ohili in 1H80. The annual shipments
to Europe and the United
States amounted to millions of tons,
valued at between $20,000,000 and
$530,000,000, all above the expense of
working being clear profit. Thia
should have enriched Peru, but it
morely enriched her governing classes.
; During the war the Chilians seized the
islands and annexed them to Chili.
There have been no exports of guano
since, but the Chilian Government is
making preparations to resume the
shipments, and it will probably be in
f Ko o 1 ?> ??*
...u uiutnvv UCM jroiM'.? JJUHOOn
Commercial Bulletin.
Mistake of a President's Wife,
A humorous incident is told around
town, gays a City of Mexico letter.
General Lallane sent President Diaz a
sack of locuHts to show the enormous
size, and the messenger, in*teasl of delivering
the same at the offic?*,* delivered
them at the residence, where the
cook, mistaking them for some new
species of crab, served them up. and
when on tho table the mistake was
discovered by Mrs. Diaz, but not "bii
fore the family had partaken of some.
Till Thon, Good Night. 1
Good night ! I havo to Bay good night
To such a host of hostlcss thing* !
Good night unto that fragile hand,
All quoenly with i(a weight of ringa;
Go<k1 night to fond uplilted eves,
Good night to chestnut braids ol hair.
Good night unto the perfect mouth
And all the sweetness nestled Uioro !
The snowy hand detains me?thon
I'll have to say good night again.
But thero will corao a timo, my love !
When, if I read our stars aright,
[ shall not linger by this porch
With my adieus. Till then, good night!
Tou wish the time wore now ? And I.
You do not blush to wish it so ?
Ifou would have blushed yourself to doath
To own so much a year ago. ,
What? Both thuso snowy hands! Ah?
then, i
I'll havo to say good night again.
? Thomas Bailey Jlldrich.
HUMOROUS.
The first thing in a boot is the last. !
"Foreign relations"?French novils.
A seamstress' exclamation ? u A.
aem!"
.Nothing tries the sole of a maa
more than a shoe-peg.
The crow is not a particularly musical
bird, but the farmer always associates
him with the corn-et.
Talking about antiquity and the age
>f things, we submit that the o)?loat
Derry is the elder-berry.
The only persons in the world who
lo not like to see redeeming qualities
in the human race are the pawnbrokers.
Two stupid Michigan hunters shot
ft woman, mistaking her for a bear. A
woman should never be mistaken for
anything but a dear.
A snail who goes about his business
I and doesn't stop to gossip with everyi
bug he meets can creep 300 feet bo
i i.wDeu ouiiup auu sunaown. xuacs
Eur enough for any snaiL
44 Johnny, is your sister in?" "I
don't know. Lerome see?what's
your name?" Barnes?Mr. Barnes."
4 All right, Mr. Barnes. You just sit
down and I'll ask Sis whether she's
home, but I don't think that's the
name."
Professor?Why does a duok put
his head under watery Pupil?Fori
divers reasons. Professor?Why does
he go on land? Pupil?For sundry
reasons. Professor?Next. You may
tell us why a duck puts his head under
water. Second Pupil?To liquidate
j his bill. Professor?And why does
i he go on land ? Second Pupil?To
| niaKo a run on tne bank.
How Many Eggs Will a Hen Layl
We often read of hens that lay 200
eggs a year, says the Farm and Garden,
but such statements do more harm
than good, by Inducing the inexperienced
to believe such to be a fact.
Any one who is familiar at all with
poultry knows that during the fall all
hens undergo the process of moulting
or. shedding of feathers. This requires
usually about three months, or one
hundred days. Aa there are only 365
days in a year, we have 265 days left
after deducting the moulting period.
If a hen lays regularly an egg every
other day she will lay 133 eggs; but
but) win prouaoiy lose tnree montns In
batching out her broods; even if she is
a non-sitter she will take a restingplace.
As moulting is a heavy drain
on the system, but few hens lay during
that process, though there are ex options,
and where the number of
eggs exceed one every two days, it will
be found that a corresponding reduction
occurs during some portion of the
year. While we admit that certain individual
hens have been known to lay
as many as 150 to even 175 eggs in a
year, such cases are rare; and if one
has a flock of twenty hens or more he "
should be satisfied if there is an average
of one hundred eggs a year for the
i n _ ? *
wnuio iiuuk, or ramer nine aozen.
Four dozen out of the nine should realize
thirty cents per dozen, three dozen
should bring about twenty oeats
per dozen, and two dozen should realize
fifteen cents per dozen, on an average
of about twenty-three cents. Of
course this calculation may be wrong,
but it will convey an idea of what may
be expected.
Where Solitude ltelgns.
" Then you don't like solitude, Me.
Snipps ?**
"No, indeed, Miss Gusher; I don't
like it a bit."
"I always thought it would be so
grand to have a chance to meditate In
absolute quiet."
"You'd get precious tired of it in a
little while; I can tell you that."
"Did you ever try it, Mr. Snipps?"
'Did 1 ever try it? Well, 1 should'
shudder."
"Oh, dear, how charming. When
was it, Mr. Snipps?"
"Last summer. Miss Gusher."
"Oh, I know; you went to thej
wo ds< "
"Not much I didn't I clerked in a
store that didn't advertise."?Chicago
Ledger, : -g