The Abbeville messenger. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1884-1887, May 25, 1886, Image 3
I; i Daffodils*
; The golden sun looks gladly down
J On golden rows of daffodils.
| He crowns them with his goldon crown,
j With golden rays oach blossom Alls,
And every blighting breeze ho stills.
! With golden trumpets in their bands,
, On pliant stems they lightly swing;
In cheerful, dauntless, gorgeous bands,
Their trumpets to the breeze thoy fling,
And sound tho ovorture to spring.
Gone is tho wintor's droadod power,
Gone are tho cold and weary days;
Now comes the soul-refreshing shower,
Now sheds tho sun his brightest rays;
Their golden trumps are turned to praiso.
Praise Him, ye trumpeters of spring.
Whoso mighty love now life distills!
Mv hfinrt uhnll witli vnni1 miwin
?? ? j -? ~*e>
Until your rapture through mo thrills.
Ye golden-tliroated daffodils!
?Caroline Hazard, in Independent.
HIS NEW COAT;
"Is it really true, Max, that you are
going to "have a diuner-party at the
Grange? Of learned gentlemen? And
papa is to be invited?"
Fanny Leslie flung licr little crochet
cap into the air, and caught it again
with the dexterity of a sliglit-of-hand
performer.
Max Lynfield, who was sitting on the
low stone stile that separated the wellkept
grounds of the Grange from the
weedy wilderness of the Leslie estate,
with a gun balanced on his shoulder,
and a game-bag slung over his back, nodded
emphatically.
. "All the scientific lights of the convention
arc to be invited," said he. "Spectacles
and baldheads will be at a premium.
Don't you wish you were a learned
olci tuclge?eh, Fan? Of course, your
governor is to be invited. Don't he
know the most about Egyptology, and
ancient Roman letterings, of any old gentleman
in the land? Isn't Professor Tolinaine
especially anxious to make his acquaintance?
And isn't Doctor Lebrun
going to bring, in his waistcoat pocket,
a slab of stone chipped off from the nose
I of some Assyrian statue or other for him
to identify? "What are you looking so
sober about? Jealous because you can't
, make out the company, eh? I'm sorry
for you, Fanny; but you had no business
to be a woman."
\ "It isn't that," said Fanny, with ludicrous
solemnity. "What day is the dinner
to be, Max?"
"The seventeenth. Just two weeks
- from to-day. But I say, Fan, what are
* you in such a hurry for?"
"It's almost sundown," said Miss Leslie,
gathering her scarf about her should
era in a mimed way. "And I have
waisted ever so much timo here already.
um Good-by, Max I"
"Yes; but I say, Fanny?"
The only response to his appeal was
' v the light, quick sound of the girl's footsteps,
as she flitted away over the carpet
of autumn leaves that covered the path,
into the yellow mist of the October aftcra
noon.
"What a pretty girl that is!" Max Lynfield
murmured to himself. "Her eyes are
exactly the color of a hazelnut, and she has
got the sweetest little sugar-plum of a
mouth that I ever beheld! But I don't
see why she need be in such a hurry."
And ho disconsolately picked up the
1 1-' 1 * ' " " " "
?c*m<.-u?y wuiua no naa unbuckled from
his shoulder, and strode away, whistling.
Meanwhile, Fanny Leslie had sped
to the dreary, old-fashioned stone house,
blotched with mildew and full of a spectral
silence, where old Mr. Leslie sat,
spectacled and absorbed, among his
books, and Alma, the eldest daughter,
was in the kitchen making a damson pudding
for dinner.
She looked up as Fanny came flying in.
"I thought you never were coming,
Fan," said she. "Did you bring the
powdered sugar?"
"Here it is." Fanny flung a little paTlfit'
nil fnKIn ' "Tin*- * 1 '
r? uuv uu, XVUUll I LUC
dinner-party at the Grange is to be on
the seventeenth, and papa is to be one of
the invited guests!"
Alma Leslie paused in her task of
sprinkling snowy sugar over the crushed,
purple damsons in the plate.
"Oh, Fanny!" said she. "But of
course he can't go. He has no coat fit to
bo seen at a dinner-party in Colonel Lynfield's
house."
"Alma, he must go!"
"How con he, Fanny?"
"It will be such a treat for him, Alma,
to meet those scientific gentlemen, and
get a glimpse of the world he has so long
left behind hfm," pleaded Fanny. "We
tntwi^nanage it somehow 1"
Alma knitted her black brows together.
"How much money is there in the
drawer, Fan?" she asked, abruptly.
"I don't quite know?fifteen dollars, I
think."
"All this proves the impossibility oi
our fine dinner-party, Fan," said Alma,
shrugging her shoulders. "Fifteen dollars
would just about purchase the cloth
for a new coat."
Fanny looked gravely at hpr sister.
"Well," said she, "that is all I want,
give me the cloth, and I'll make the
"What nonsense, Fanny I"
"It isn't nonsense at all."
" You make a broadcloth coat!"
"Why shouldn't I? Didn't I make a
cloth ulster for myself, and make it nice,
to*r
-
"But you arc not a tailor I"
"I'll bo a tailoress, which is j si
good."
"You have no pattern, Fan."
"I cau rip papa's old coat apart n
get the pattern from that, Alma. "YYh
is it? Is he wearing it now?"
"He has got on that old dressing-go
of his," said Alma.
"Then get the coat?that's a deal
and rip it carefully apart," said Faui
"while I go down to the store and b
the broadcloth. Wc haven't a second
time to loose." ,
The next two days were days of ci
ting, stitching, pressing, calculating,
the big, sunny south room which t
Leslie girls called their boudoir.
Old Mr. Leslie sat among his dm
voincs ana ponderous dictionaries, witl
pencil back of each car and a pen
his hand, making notes and scribblii
off paragraphs, all unconscious of wli
was going on around him.
"If I'm to be at that dinner-party
savantshe said to Alma, "I must setl
this question as to the authenticity of tl
Eudcic monograph."
"Certainly, papa," said Alma, in i
abstracted way, as she hemmed a no
black silk cravat, and pondered as to tl
practicability of new gloves, and whet
cr her father could be induced to wei
them if they were bought.
"Papa," said *Fanny, the evening b
fore the eventful day, "we want you
try on your coat to-night."
"To try on my coat!" vaguely rcpea
nrl tlw. UW1...4 11 1
vv* VIAV> Jimiiuoujiuui* IT nut t'Ullt t WII
for?"
Oh, just to sec if it's all right!" sai
Fanny, not without a little qualm of te
ror lest her father should discover tl
pious fraud and object to wear horn
made garments.
Absently, Sir. Leslie rose up, diveste
himself of his faded dressing gown, an
put 011 the new coat.
Alma and Fanny viewed him with crii
ical eyes, and exchanged glances of sati:
faction at each other.
"Docs it feel quite comfortable, papa?
said Alma.
"Very nice, my dear?very nice," sai
the philosopher. "Really I didn't ktio
that old coat looked so nice. Take i
away, daughter, and brush it thoroughly
and have it ready for me to-morrow
with a fresh necktie and a clean pockel
handkerchief."
And once more lie plunged into th
depths of the Eudeic monograph ques
tion.
"Fanny," rnid Alma, in a low voicc
"it's a success!"
"Alma," responded Fanny, in th
same tone, "I knew that it would be!"
Mr. Leslie went to the dinner-party a
Lynfield Grange, and astonished Severn
dozen other old gentlemen by the deptl
of his wisdom and the profundity of hi
learning, and nobody discovered that th
homemade coat was not the chief d'euvrt
of n VavL
But Fanny LesKe was not destined t<
hear the last of the coat. Miss Helen;
St. Jacquin, who had chanced to surpris
them in the task, whispered it mysterious
ly to her dearest friend Mrs. Emersoi
Fielding. And every one knew, pres
ently, that the Leslie girls had turncc
tailoresses and taken in work by the day
"It was Fanny," said Miss St. Jacquin
"I saw her myself, pressing out the scam
of a coat with a prodigious smoothing
iron?a man's coat! They tried to shuf
fle it out of sight as soon as possible, bui
they weren't quick enough for me 1"
' Well," said Max LynCcld carelessly,
4'why shouldn't they sew men's coats a*
well iia woman's worsted work?"
Mrs. Emerson Fielding elevated hei
pretty little nose.
"I'm afraid," said she, "we shall hav<
to leave the Leslie girls off our list for th(
charade-parties next winter."
Max Lynfield rose up in .exceeding
great wrath.
"Then you may leave m' off, tool'
said he, and stalked out of'the room.
He went straight to the old stonehouse.
Fanny was in the garden, gathering
chrysantheums ? great whitefringed
beauties, aad buds that were like
balls'of gold, and little brick-red blossoms
full of a strange aromatic fragrance
like Eastern spices.
"Fan," said he, "if you had wanted
money, you ought have come to me.
Haven't we been friends long enough tc
induce you to put any confidence in me?"
Fanny looked at him in serene surprise.
"Rut. Afnv " cnirl aVt/i f 'mn ? *
??j OUV, ??u UUII t W UL11
money?no more than usual, that is to
say. Everybody wants money, I suppose."
And she clipped off a stem of rich maroon
flowers, and laid it lovingly among
the rest of her floral trophies,
Honest Max, who had no idea of di
plomacy, plunged headlong into the sub*
ject.
"Then," said he, "what's all this story
i-l.! J- * "
iiuuut jium i?&iug iu uuior-worK <"
"About my taking in tailor-work?"
"Yes. Miss St. Jacquin saw you
working at it."
"Did she?" Fanny's cheeks flamed
scarlet. "Miss St. Jacquin had bcttei
have been attending to her own business.
But since she has told you half a story,
I may as well supply the other half. 1
am sure it is no secret."
And she told Max Lynfleld the whole
of tho simple tale.
"Fan, you're a trump I" said he. "And
you really made that coat yourtetyi"
7.;z <;; >,' v4h8
"I really made that coat myself?wit)
; as a little help from Alma!" proudly spok
Fanny.
"/ should liko a daughter like you?
md that is to say, when I develop into an ol(
ere gentleman of scientific tastes," said Max
"Oh, you'll never develop into a scicn
wn tist," said Fanny. "You are a deal tot
active and wideawake. You're not Mai
r? wise enough."
IV, At this Max's honest countnnnnnn Ml
uy "I knew it," said he sorrowfully
of "You despise inc. You think I am <
dunce."
lit- Fanny dropped all lier flowers, in her
in consternation.
he "Oh, Max," she cried, "I don't dc
spise you at all. I like you 1"
sty "That isn't the question," said Max,
u moodl'.y. "The question is, do you love
iu me?"
ng "Max!"
iat "Fanny! No?stay here!" posting himself,
with lightning rapidity, in the door0f
way. "Unless you jump down the tor;le
race, you can't get away from me. And
[1C I'm determined to have an answer."
He had yie answer. And the answer
m was "Yes."
!W It is very seldom, you sec, that a thor[jg
oughly determined young man allows
11. himself to be baffled.
ir Sirs. Fielding, the. pretty widow, was
deeply annoyed; Miss St. Jacquin raved.
e_ "But, you sec," Mr. Lyafield afterward
said, *"'1 never should have known
how much I cared for Fan, if I hadn't
heard those spiteful cats criticising her."
And Mr. Leslie wore the selfsame coat
to his daughter's wedding.
O O
But, to the end of his learned and
r. scientific life, lie never knew who made it.
1C Savants are not wise in the ordinary
c_ events of everyday life.?Helen Foi^rest
Graves.
^ Lunar Fancies.
^ In Devonshire it is believed that on
seeing the first new moon of the year, if
you take off on stocking and run across
5" a field, yo\i will find between two of your
toes a hair which will be the color of
' the lover you are to have. In Berkshire
the proceeding is more simple, for you
^ merely look at the new moon and say:
vv "New moon, new moon, I hail thee!
it By all tho virtue in thy body,
r Grant this night that I may see
, He who my true love shall bo."
Te result is guaranteed to be as satisfactory
as it is in Ireland, where tho
nnnnlr* nrn caul ?
e ( x?-, ?* ^ IUU ucw moou
with a knife, and say:
"New moon, true morrow, bo true now to
, mei
' That I, to-morrow, my true lovo may see.4'
In Yorkshire, again, the practice was
to catch the reflection of the new moon
k in a looking-glass, the number of reflccj
tions signifying the number of years
^ which will elapse before marrrag6. -All
these superstitions are suggestive of that
c which Tylor calls "one of the most instructive
nstroloincal doctrines"?namc!
?
ly, that of the "sympathy of growing
^ and declining nature with the waxing
and waning moon. Tylor says that a
classical prccept was to set eggs under
the hen at new moon, and that a Lithut
anian precept was to weati boys on a
waxing and girls on a waning moon?to
j make the boys strong and the girls delicate.
On the same grounds, he says,
Orkueymen object to marry except with
n nrrAwinr* Tif? TX 1
^ % ^4vi?iu^ iuuuu| <1111.1 iiir* uycr suys tnm
in Cornwall, when a child is born in the
interval between an old and a now moon,
t it is believed that he will never live to
manhood.?All the Tear Hound.
1 Luckj Men Who Get Rich.
3 "Some men do have luck in this world,
for a fact," said a seedy-looking individr
ual who had taken a fifteen-cent lunch
on State street, near Harrison, and who
5 now stood in front of the Palmer House
5 manipulating his tooth-pick, "but I ain't
one of them.
' In my time I have invested many a
good thousand dollars in mining stocks
and never made a hit yet. A hit was
what I needed to make about as bad as
anybody ever needed it, but I couldn't
make one.
"Now just look at Marshall Field. He
hasn't been suffering for a dollar for a
good while. Yet a few years ago, in
! settling with a country merchant, he was
induced to take $300 worth of stock in
the Chrysolite mine.
"He didn't want to take the stock and
1 offered to make a big discount for cash,
but the country merchant was hard up
and so the dicker was made.
' "Field took the stock, put it away in
' Ilia anfo onrl in ' -1 ?
?,.V| uuu in olyuii jcuia mis uruwil
$30,000 in dividends.
"I've heard, too, though I don't know
how true it is, that about all the money
' ho ever invested in mining property was
his profits from this first venture.
' 'He has a most invariably been lucky,
and has probably made more money out
of silver mines on a smaller investment
than any other man in Chicago. A rich
man for luck every time."?Chicago
Herald.
[ ?rnmamm?
Circumstances Alter Cases*
Lawyer (to client)?Your old uncle
1 Isaac died this morning. I was just on
my way to your office to tell you.
Client?What? That old lunatic?
Lawyer?Yea, and what's more, he left
you all his money.
Client?Well, I declare, this is terribly
*udden. I trust, he died peacefully.
Poor, dear, old man, I do hope that ho
Iidn't buffer. ?New TorhjOraphic.
' '' ' ,> v " ' k,-i
... ; : _ , '[y.-LL \t<-J x , v>
HffiSHBBfflSwSHraMlKWBM
Yv':1' -' .
> MONTE CARLO. :
e
Tragedies at the Notorious
Gambling Resort.
)
' The Number of Suicides Among the Players
Averages One a Day.
I .
"My impressions of Monte Carlo?"
said Prof. Joseph Bauer. "I have but
one?it is a dream. On entering, one is
delighted, surprised, amazed, astounded,
and stunned tseriatuim. Flowers and
musie, coin and notes, despair and success,
beauty, fashion, wealth?all combine
to impress the beholder, and it is
some time before he can begin to study
systematically his surroundings. It is
only when he emerges again into the cool
air that one can appreciate his own identty.
"Do not credit the recent denials of
suicides at Monte Carlo," continued the
Professor. "They are inspired. I have
visited the gambling hall there fifteen
times professionally, in addition to a
number of trips made for my own pleasure.
I was born in French Switzerland,
200 miles from Monte Carlo and am familiar
with its ghastly history during the
past twelve years. You may take my
word for it that the number of suicides
caused directly by the Monte Carlo gaming
tables averages at least one for every
day in the year. The real total probably j
exceeds this estimate."
Prof. Bauer is one of the youngest,
handsomest, and most popular guides in
central Europe. As so much has been
written and so little accurately told concerning
Monte Carlo, he was requested to
describe the world's most famous gam- (
bling hell. He said: I
"I have spent many months there al- (
together, and it was a rare day when no
ruined and despairing man killed himself. ,
On some days we had as high as three or
four such casualitics. If a stranger kills (
himself, his body is dragged away, the ]
blood cleansed from the floor, and the ,
game goes on. I have heard players ,
mutter curses at a corpse for having in- ,
terrupted their 'series,' or confused their j
'system.' If the victim be a stranger,. ,
nobody knows what becomes of the body, j
except some of the special police, whose (
duty it is to conduct such funerals in ,
their own mysterious way. If the ruined ;
player goes into the grounds before ^
shooting or stabbing himself, or drowns j
himself in one of the beautiful fountains, ,
even the players who sat beside him a j
moment before never learns of his death.
These things are know to the habitues of j
the tables, but they never speak of them .
outside. The newspapers of Monaco aud ]
Nice are heavily subsidized, and those of ^
Paris, Lyonsv and Marseilles pay no at- j
tcntion to such trifles. Letters to the <
editors on this forbidden subject arc j
quickly thrown into the great interna- j
tional waste basket. With a large and (
well-trained police force constantly at
hand, with an indifferent set of patrons,
and a willfully blind press, these little episodes
arc much mom
uui^VyULU tUUl! v
you would imagine. If the suicide be a i
powerful noble or a celebrity in any way, r
the affair is mentioned briefly in the t
French and English newspapers, and the ::
announcement cabled to this country. I
Everybody knows why the man made
away with himself, and the only question n
is: "Who will be next?" t
"It is almost impossible to prevent t
these self-murders, as the act is usually s
committed under sudden powerful im- c
pulse. Everybody's mind and eyes are, \
of course, intent on the game, and so a
m QntT V* rt *
i ....... j uD^aiu men get up irom the a
j tables that the sight is too common to f
t engage the attention of the ever-present s
detectives. It is but just, however, to ]
say that the managers do everything in t
their power to prevent suicides, except ?
closing their doors. Mechanics and ar- g
tisans are not permitted to live either in li
Monaco or Monte Carlo. i:
''If an unfortunate player gets up from a
a table and acts wildcly?'crazy,' they c
call it, for all suicides are by courtesy es- 1
teemed crazy at Monte Carlo?he is hust- s
led off by a couple of stalwart policemen s
and put on a train for Nice. A guard is a
constantly with him, his board bill at c
Nice is paid by the company, an^,?if he v
finally talks reasonably, he is given I
enough money to take him home in first- v
class style. The manngemunt also en- a
deavor to discourage dying on the prem- fi
ises by aiding destitute gamblers. If one
-has lost heavily and frankly states his
condition of temporary poverty, his case
will be promptly investigated. Should b
it be found as narrated, he will be given p
two or three hundred dollars to take him si
home, or an order for two weeks' board z
at one of the company's first-class ho- ti
tels."?New York Sun. tl
========= t<
Not Pretty, But Stuart. t]
A little 4-year-old girl, a resident of c
Minnesota's capital city, is not noted for zi
her beanty, though possessed of a very ei
sweet disposition and a remarkably smart zi
mind. She was recently presented to a ei
minister who chanced to bo visiting at o;
her home. He took her little face be- it
tween his two hands and looked down at d
her in the most scrutinizing mannner., si
She evidently anticipated that her face ni
would not bear the close inspection, as si
turning her eyes in the direction of his c<
face, she lisped out: "I ain't pretty, ai
Mither Brown, but I'th -mighty 'mart.? ju
St. Paul Qlo&e. si
v i k . . ,* , ; .
v: Jb \ y < J. - ' ' ' &*
> A Texan Sheep Herder's Life.
"We will suppose, by way of illustration,
that a practical herder has been engaged
to run a flock, and in the early
morning, as the first gray streaks of
dawn appear in the eastern sky, he sallies
forth to take chargc of his woolly flock,
who arc just beginning to awake and
leave their bedding place. If he is a
Mexican he looks extremely picturesque
in his bright blue jacket, with its double
w/^.r ~ c i r " 1 *
iu? ui suver uucions, wmcu, by the way,
are not for use, but solely for ornament,
for a Mexican never buttons his jacket?
else he would hide his gaudy calico shirt.
On his nether limbs are leggings of leather
or buckskin to protect his legs from
the sharp thorns through which he will
be forced to inarch. These are kept in
place by a crimson, orange or blue sasli,
over which is buckled a broad sash full
of cartridges. On his head i3 the inevitable
sombrero, with its ornamentation of
gold and silver lace. If he is a sensible
man, his scrape will bo tied over one
shoulder and under the opposite arm and
he will carry a Winchester rifle and a
sharp butcher knife. As the sheep begin
to move off he saunters slowly along behind
them, keeping a sharp lookout for
stragglers. Sheep do not travel fast, but
they keep moving. At about meridian
they will begin to feed back toward tho
bedding-place. There the herder will
eat his humble dinner of tortillas and
chili, washed down by a draught of water,
is he is fortunate enough to be in
the vicinity of a spring or water-hole.
A 1?..1 i
auuui sunuown uio sheep will reacl)
their camp and begin to select beds for
the night. The herder has a rude shelter
nearby. lie builds himself a fire, and
cooks his tortillas. Possibly he may have
killed a quail or a jack rabbit during the
clay. If so, he makes a savory soup.
Then he smokes his cigaro and walks
around the flock to see that none aro
missing. If all is well he returns to his
samp, and, rolling himself in his scrape, j
lies down. He may have a good night's
deep and he may not. A careful herder
kvill be aroused if a single sheep moves
uid will immediately rise up to see what
is the matter. If a bear or cougar or tiTer-cat
is lurking about he will hunt for
;hc varmint and either kill him or frightjn
him away. Above all things he must
ruard against a stampede, for if the timd
sheep once get started there is no stopling
them?the herd would become scat:ered,
many would be lost and the herder
ivould be charged up with the missing
.beep. Long before daylight he is up,
ind by the time the sheep begin to move
ic has cooked and eaten his breakfast
ind is ready to take up the march again.
Imagine what a picnic a man must have
vho performs this dreary routine three
iundre:I and sixty-five days in the year!
sheep herding admits of no holidays and
t is all the same to the herder whether
t be Christmas or Fourth of July.?Philulelphia
Times.
Unique Praise or a Piano.
Previous to entering upon his present
sailing as a piano dealer Mr. Pfatllin was
i locomotive engineer. When the ladv
_ J
cached the store she had the good forune
to find Mr. Pfaftlin in, and she
isfced his judgment on the style and
wand of a piano.
"That depends upon your taste, madim,"
said he. "If you want to combine
ilegancc with utility, I would suggest
he old-fashioned square piano. It an
wcrs for an ornament, makes music, and
:an be used for a dining-tablc and a bed '
vhen you have company. This kind of
in instrument should not be selected for
l small cab, because it dosn't leave room
"
ur uring up. incy make just as much
team as the upright, but, owing to the
>osition of the harp, they let down in
he flues much quicker. Being wide
;uage, the wear and tear are also very
:rcat. If you a want a perfect working,
landsome machine, take the upright. It
s narrow guage, hung low on the trucks,
nd has all the mod6rn improvements, inluding
patent brake and snow-plow.
?he running-board is the same size as the
quare, and she carries just as much
t(*am. You can work it in small spaco
nd get as much sound out of it as you
ould with the old-fashioned steamboat
thistles. Her wood-work is as neat as a
'ullman sleeper, and if you keep her
irell packed and oiled she works as slick
s old Seventy-four. I have run one for
ve years."?Boston Journal.
Sated From the Branding,
"One of the few patents that make
ig money," said an attorney, "is a simle
thing called an ear-mark for live
tock. It consists of two tubes, one of
niu ana tnc otner of brass, the brass
abc made the smaller and fitting into
txe other with a little spring projection
t hold it in place. "When this is stuck |
irough a critter's ear only the zinc is in
ontact with the flesh, and that |
inc has well-know healing proprties,
is shown in -the use of
inc collar pads for horses. The
id of each tube is a diso about the size
f a nickel, and on the brass disc are in- |
ials and numbers. A Chicago firm is I
oing a big business in these marks. A
ockraiser can have his own private
tark; same as branding, and, if he deres,
have all of his cattle numbered
>nsecutively. They cost $5 a thousand, ad
are much used in the West. They 1
rc used for cattlu, horses, hogs and J '
xeep."?Chicago Herald*
N .
, ... ;.:r5rv' . ..
%
i Forgrire!
Forgive tho band that harshly strikes
In anger's reckless inood,
Perhaps tho heart behind it mourns
The action hot and rudo;
And though tho iusult sonds tho blood
Indignant to tho face,
Its pardon to the,injured brings
No sorrow or disgrace.
Forgive tho tongue whose hasty words
Like flaming arrows burn,
Bohind it, too, a heart may sigh,
And for forbearance yoarn;
Since thero is none of human kind
That doth not sometimes need
An ill-used neighbor's clemency
For grievous word or deed.
Though, hate should follow, hard and clos?
With everv cruel vvrnnir
This thought will always clioor the soul?
It cannot be for loug;
Whilo on an easier bed ho lies,
"Who from revengo is free,
Who says, "My heart forgives them all
As God forglveth me!"
nuaioitous.
Telephone is feminine?it talks back.
Drawing instruments?Mustard plasters.
Epitath for a cannibal: "One who
loves his fellow men."
The labor question with the tramp ia
how he can manage to avoid it.
"We nuiet but to part,' as the brush,
in the dude's hand sa"id to the comb.
Modist Worth is really recognized by
society women. lie makes dresses ia
Paris.
We should think a shad would bo
pretty confident of a thing when it feela
it in its bones.
Shakespeare somewhere uses the term
"a mad wag." lie probably referred to
the tail of a mad dog.
A man hearing of another who was a
fmndred yearl old said contcmptously:
"Pshaw! what a fuss about nothing.
Why, if my grandfather were alive ho
Would now be a hundred and fifty years
old."
There was a wedding breakfast. The
groom to the little girl?"You have a
new brother, now, you know." "Yeth,"
responded the little one, "ma seth it
wath Lottie's lasth chance, so she had
better take it." The rest of the little one's
talk was drowned in a clatter of knives
and forks. I
General Doublcday Beaten.
The lack of discipline in the Union army
in the early part of the war is exemplified
by a couple of anecdotes told by
Col. W. A. James, an old and wellknown
veteran: ""When we were in the
defenses before Washington in 1861 General
Doubleday, a rigin martinet, was in
command of the brigade, which was.
made up almost entirely of young and
untrained soldiers. One of them, a lank
and overgrown Westerner, was doing
picket duty one day when Doubleday,
glorious in gilt and brass, rode bv on his
charger, accompanied by his entire staff.
As they passed the big Westerner stared
at them with open-mouthed wonder, and
neglected to salute. The General no?
*
ticed the error, and rode back with fire
in his eye.
"What is yonr name?" he asked the
picket.
The picket told him.
" 'Well, I am General Doubleday,
commanding tlie defenses of Washington.'
44 'Are ye, indeed! said the soldier,
nonchalantly. 'Waal, ye hey a gosh
urea tine job, and I hope ye can hold it.*
The General galloped off again without
a word.
t
At another time a soldier who was digging
a trench hit his captain on tho head
with a clod of dirt. The officer rushed
up and reprimanded the private.
"Now, look-a-here, Cap," said the latter,
"my business here is digging and . v..
yours is bossing the company on parade,
and if you attend to your business I'll attend
to mine."
He Got Ills Customer.
The following story is told of an enterprising
New-York jobber: The merchant
in question, having heard of the arrival
of a country trader who was known to be
a large purchaser and of unquestionable
credit, was resolved to get * him to visit
his establishment, and, once there, he
felt sure he could secure him as a customer.
He accordingly sent out one of his
drummers, of whom he had quite a number,
adapted to every taste and disposition.
The one sent, however, returned
without success. No. 2 was dispatched,
with no better result, and again No. 3,
and so oh until ail had gone and come
back without their man. The merchant ^
now determined to go himself, and find- '
ing that brandy and water and free tickets
to the theatre were of no avail, for ^
the country trader di-1 not take one or
go to the other, he was reduced to the
necessity of employing a ruse, which, as
the sequel shows, was simple as well as
effectual. On taking his departure after
a pleasant interview the merchant took
care to commit the "mistake" t\f falrtnn*
the trader's hat instead of his own. Next %fjf
morning, as was expected, the merchant v>:
received a prompt visit at his store from
the country trader, who came to look up
the hat which ho supposed had beea. .
horridly exchanged. This was what th? p
merchant wanted, and through this
means sold a good bitl of goods and so* * ''1m
cured a regular customer.?Dry Good*
OhronicU.