The people. (Barnwell C.H., S.C.) 1877-1884, April 14, 1881, Image 1
Special Request*.
1. In writing to thli offloe on baaloMi
nlw»j« giro your lunw and Post tffioe
•ddia* w-
•\
2. Burinen lotton and eunmunica-
tkma to be published should be written
on separate aheeta, and the oVjsct of each
clearly indicated by necessary note when
required.
8. Articles for publication should be
written -in a c'ear, legible hand, and on
only one side of the page*.
4. All changes in advertisements mus
reach ui on Friday. — - r
ia.--
GO SLOW.
ST MADOt ELLIOTT.
WtomTm * pair of bright ayea maat,
That makVyour heart in rapture beat;
Whan one voice eeemi to you mote etreet
Than any other roloe you know—
Go alow, my friend, go alow!
tot brightest eyes have oft betrayrd.
And sweetest voice of youth and njaUL
The very falsest thing have said, 1
And thereby wrought a deal of woes
Go alow, my friend, go slow 1
Whan you’re convinced you are a poet,
And, wishing all the world to know it,
Gall on some editor to show It,
Tour verses full of glow and blow,
Go slow, my friend, go alow!
Tor many a ona hat dona the tame.
And thought to grasp the hUd of Fame,
And yet has never seen hk name
In print And why-vasto-baskete know—
Go alow, my friand, go alow !
When you to greed for money yield, *
And long the mighty power to wield
That’s always found In golden Held,
With senseless pomp and pride and show.
Go slow, my friend, go slow! T.
For thousands, tempted by the glare
Of wealth, have fallen In the snare
Bet for the thief. And now despair,
Begret and shame have brought them low;
Go alow, my friend, go slew 1
The good old earth la never wrong;
Each of her works takes Just so long;
Months peas before a happy throng
Of daisies In the meadows grow.
Oo alow, my friend, go slow!
And spring gives Ufa to summer s Bowery
And summer • sun and suiLiuer s showers
Frepere the fruit for autumn bowers.
And autumn frost brings winter snow—
Go alow, my friend, go alow I
/
IV. TTCOT
FARKWELL, C. H., S O., THURSDAY, APRIL 14, 1881,
$2 a Year,
Cyntract •dvtrtiatef to’^ayab!* 80
d*ya aterfint in«rtton un ew other*
wiio itipuUijft.
No communication will be publMbod
unlem •ceompoaied by the name sad ad* »
of the writer, not neoemeiily for •
publlcatiin, bat ms gusiaatyoi fopd
silk.
Aidrem, TJE PEOPLE,
mniwvil U. Ir.j tT^:
OUR QUEER LODGER.
We kept m little variety abop, sinter
Margie and I, the profit of which wee
quit* an amull an the wares we aotd. But,,
then, we h*l no rent to jmy; owning Ui«>
anutll, lirown, old-fnahioacd house in
which we lived, nod which looked
■trsngely out of plmoe among the atately
looking modern dwellings thst crowded
op sgsinet it on either side, qnitc put
ting it out of amntensnee by their nu
|>ennv height slid appfssrsiuv.
Orsndfsther built it when the place
wss new, and be s young man, snd wh* n
all Umt iwiek and mortar were verUnt
fields ntui well-kept gardens, dotUwl berv
snd there by houses as low snd m< «k-*t
as his own. He owned s large farm, and
was c amide red a wealthy man for thowe
days r but n«^»r acre had lieen sold
until Dot)]nig wan left except the houne
in which my father had been Uwn,
and which was the only inheritance of
bin children. But we made the most of
it, Margie and 1. aa you will ace.
i
I hardly think we should have dared to
do anch a thing while father lived, who
would have awuiidered it a sort of aaert
bat soon after his death we tnrn*yl
the front part of the houae into a shop,
with show-windows which opened out
upon the street, in which to display the
articles we kept for sale.
This was a matter of neoeaaity rather
than shoice, it Wing all that I could do
at home; and I could nut leave Margie.
Poor Margie was a cripple ; she hail re
ceived a fall when only 4 yean old, and
had never walked mice. She had been
a great care to me for many a year, bat
never a burden. She was so thoughtful,
patient and cheerful, that in the event
of our separation I think I should have
miaaed her quite aa much a< site would
me. She was very useful, too ; lying ail
day on the lounge in her little sitting-
room, her hands were never idle, chro-
oheting tidies, mats, mittens and edg
ing, and, doing various kinds of fancy-
work, for which I found sale in the shop,
and though the price asked was only
moderately in excess of the oust of ma
terial, it helped us not a little.
Margie kept all the accounts, too;
having a clearer head than I, and a
knowledge, or rather intuition, of char
acter that was wonderful, considering
how secluded her life had of necessity
been. I never thonght of taking any
step without consulting Margie.
We two lived very quietly, having
few acquaintances, and no near relative
or friend—except John. John was my
lover, and no girl ever had one more
kind and true. He was poor in worldly
goods, but oh I so rich in goodness and
manly worth. He might have seemed
plain to those who knew him not—I can
not tell how he looked to other eyes—
hut there was more than beanty, to me,
in that frank, honest face, and in the
ing, I covered the floor with a neat
carpet,’ the bed and windows were
draped with white, some pretty prints
hang upottthe wall, and on the whole 1
was very well satisfied with the result of
pur labor.
When all was done, John wrote a
notice: “Boom to let Inquire within.’’
But though I placed it in the shop win
dow, where it could be plainly seen from
the street, nearly three' weeks passed
and we had only two applications for the
room, and from persons who only looked
at it and then went away.
One loraing, as I wss dusting the
counter and patting the shop to rights,
I saw a.queer-looking, oddly-dressed old
man standing in front of the window,
his eyes fixed upon the notice in it, add
his moving lips slowly syllabifying each
word. He wore shoes with big buckles
on them, and a snuff-colored coat, with
short waist and long skirts, and which
looked as if it might have been his
grandfather’s. But the oddest thing
about him was the long white hair
which fell upon his shoulders, and the
heavy beard of the same color which
touched his breast A broad-brimmed
hat completed his quaint, Quaker-like
appearance.
The door being ajar, before I had time
to lay aside my duster he wa» at the
counter.
He stared ai mie for som- momenta
without speaking, and tlieu i iting to
the notice with his oane, aau.;
“ Will thee let me look «t it ?** _
Inwardly hoping that this application
would not share the fate of thoao that
had preceded it, I led the way up ataira.
To my great relief, our prospective
Kstger, tar from objecting to the sloping
roof and old-taabioncd furniture, seemed
to regard them with feelings of positive
interest and admiration.
“ It ia like the chamlter that I used to
sleep in when I was a boy,” be said, as
he looked around, and speaking more to
himself than me.
Aa I wanted Margie to ace him before
I decided, I took him down throngli the
aittiug-room where she lay.
“ This gi-ntleaaan thinks of taking our
»>m, slater,'* I said, aa she glanced np
at tut.
“ II within my m«*ana,” interposed
th- stranger. “ I am a poor man.**
Margie‘a Hear, soft, penetrating erre
were quietly reeding the face of the
a|ieakur. What she saw aeemed aatie-
faetory, for she nodded in reply to my
questioning look.
In spite of hia threadliare apparel, he
looked no thoroughly reapeotable that 1
waa half ashamed of the question that
I felt eotn|»-lled to put :
“ I aup|M<«e you have references,
sir * * .
“ No ; all are dead who might spvak
for me if they could. You will have to
lake me on trurt." *
I looked at Margie again, who, giving
me anothej nod, aakl:
•* Perha|« the gentleman will men)ion
what he feels able to pay T ”
The stranger did so, adding :
“ I iun |H*or and cannot pay one penny
more. ”
The sum named, though not large,
was more than we were intending to ask,
os I told him.
The old man frowned and shook his
head. —
“ Thee shouldn’t have told me that.
I’ve half a mind to give thee no more.”
Then counting out upon the table
the amount he had stated, hq pushed it
toward me, adding:
“ My name is Thomas. I’ll be here
to-morrow morning with all my traps. ”
The traps mentioned consisted of an
old-fashioned hair-trunk and a large
chest, the latte r being mainly filled with
liooks. We ’frere flot long in finding
out that our lodger was very odd, though
bis oddities were of the most innocent
and harmless nature. He asked me to
substitute a patchwork quilt for the
white counterpane on his bed, and spent
A whole day rummaging auction rooms
to find some old-fashioned chintz to take
the place of the pretty muslin curtains
on which I had spent so much time and
labor. I bad taken a. rocker fox him
big, brown hands that were ao strong ^ ^ ^tting-ruony hnt, spjitngi
snd helpful.
We had been engaged ever since I was
18—I was 23 now—and no nearer to be-
Sng married, as I could see, than we
were five years before. But still we
loved on and hoped on. John had a
widowed and infirm mother, and I Mar
gie, and, thongh she Iras anything but
burdensome to me, I could not think of
adding any further weight to the hands
that were full enough already.
Trade not being very brink during the
Mimmer, Margie and I decided to eke
<>ot our slender income by renting the
room over the shop. It was low, and
the slant of the roof on one aide and big
chimney nude it full of nooks and cor
ners. The furniture was old, being’ rotnc
that grandfather had when he was mar
ried, bat with the help of John, who
coaid spars me an boor or two
I f—wlil it ap ao that it lotted
well. By dint of
day, aa old, leather-bottomed chair that
\ ' . .».
had belonged to my grandfather, he
asked me to exchange with him, which
I was very glad to do. Not long after, a
chest of drawers, that was my grand
father’s, found its way back to the old
place, together with the quaint, brass-
mounted mirror that always hong over
K; so that, at last, the room looked very
much as it did before we rearranged it
with so much care and labor.
John and I had quite a laugh over it,
but, ao long aa it suited its present oc
cupant, we did not mind, and it seemed
a
to suit him completely. He spent mack
of his time reading. No one called to
aee him, or wrote to him, though ha re-
of papers and maga-
“ He moat be very lonely, poor man 1”
said my gentle-hearted sister. “ Per-
hajis he doesn’t have enough to eat. He
spoke about being poor, yon know.”
After this ha dropped in occasionally,
evenings, bringing some new magazine
or paper, and reading to na aa we sat at
work. Finally, it became an established
custom with him to take tea with us
twice, and sometimes three' times n
week; frequently inviting hiiuseb
though we always knew when l e wh;
coming by the advent of the marl^t box
with a liberal supply of provisions, al.
of the best quality.
This troubled Margie’s tender con
science, anti she remonstrated with him
one day. •.
“ It ia wrong,” he said, with a gaars
shake of the head. “I’m a poor naan,
and ought to be mors prudent”
But he pontinned on the same way,
and we finally got so used to his oddi
ties of speech and action as to think little
of them.
He and John were apparently on the
best of terms, and yet he was always
rinding fault with him to me.
“ To think of his taking entire charge
>f his mother, when she has other chil-
Iren, and sending money to his brother’s
vidow beside 1” he said to me one day.
“ Hr ia a poor man, and always will
lie !” .
Now, I could never endure the slight
est refi.-ction upon John, and I defended
him with a spirit and indignation that
seemed to amuse Mr. Thomas not a
ittle. * . . J
“ With thy pretty face and ways, thee
•tight to do better, Ruth," he resumed,
sben I paused for want of breath.
* Not bnt what John ia good, but he is
oor. I’ve heard that thee refused Mr.
Hart, who ia worth 81,000,000. What
made thee do such a foolish thing as
-hat, child r
“ Because I didn’t love Mr. Hart; and
( do lova John.”
The alienee that followed made me
dance up at my oompankm, who had
urned toward the door. It was grow-
•ug dusk, and the face was partly avert
'd, but I was almost sure that the eyre
were tun of leers.
Mr. Tbotnea generally used the plain
language, almost invariably ao when
-peaking to me or Margie, ami, until I
taw that he waa a regular attendant at
4L Lake's, I supposed him In be e
Quaker. When I alluded to this nn-
•rreeion, he said:
“ I waa brought up to that faith ; and
it comes back to me now that I am grow
ing old, and the and is near."
It wee nearer than I thought He
hail been feeble all winter, though it
seemed more like the gradual loss of
strength than actual driesae. In the
early spring be waa knocked down by a
runaway borne, anataining some in
ternal injury from which he never re-
i> vrred. John and I took turns in
uarming him; it waa pleasant, after
ward, to remember that he wanted for
nothing.
John, Margie and I were there. He
Sad.been lying in a stupor for enme
hours ; now he roused himw*lf and began
to talk, startling us uot a little by hia
strange expressions and allusions.
“I waa born in this room,” he aakl,
glancing around; “and I shall die
here I ” -
happier home-it would be hard to find.—
IVrtr York I* doer. " -
Good moaners at the Uhls ai
of common sense and
We used to sit
who always draw the fnnt dish
fingered the
raw KXCBAtrew rimirn.
Have you my paper to-day? " says a
smiling man, stepping gently into the
sane turn. • < '
What is your paper? ” asks the ed
itor. *
“ Why, jthe Cincinnati Enquirer, you
mow." „
Of bourse I knew well enough; he
baa been here regularly for .the last
month. He is that terror—that scourge
- known as the Exchange Fiend. He
got the paper at first willingly, then po
litely, then coolly, then abnpptly, then
grudgingly, but rebuffs chill him not,
le becomes a journalistic old-man-of-
the-sea, who can’t be shaken off The
laws of Michigan unfortunately make it
a crime to kill him, although if I were
to be tried by a jury of twelve news edi
tor I would risk it.
“You’ve been getting the Enquirer
or a mouth now 2 ”
“ Well, off and on, I guess I have. ”
“ Why don’t yon take it regularly? I
can get them to put you on their daily
list” ~-
“Can you, honest? ”
“Why, of coarse; we newspaper men
rave a sort of Free Masonry among us.
Besides,! know McLean first rate. Splen
did man. He’ll do it in a. minute for
me
> ”
"Well, now I am under deep obi
“ Don’t mention it Let’s see, what a
year name ? ”
“A Sucker—got that down ? ”
"Sucker—yea."
“No. 8,741 Elizabeth street east**
“ Street east—yea.**
“Detroit Mich."
“ All right For a year—dally ? "
“ If you please. I tell you that kind
of Free Masonry ia a bang-up thing, but
sup}>oae you would do the aame fur
aim?”
“For Mac? bat yoor boots. That
will be fl’l"
“What I"
“Twelve dorian. Journalistic Ma
sonic initiation fee. That's
yon could join the Fri
for, not to mention quarterly doca. But
then if yon don't happen to have the
money, eel! np to-morrow, or jnat due.
Mr Lean a note, with another note for
812, and mention me, and he’ll send bis
I’eper right along, and jnat any well he
happy to do the aame by any uf hi»
friends."
Ha sever called again, bnt another
juat like him did and always will
rKuxA.roo moutrn jtms ow hm**i
CLAY.
6ur juveniles.
OmnAmmmtna't Aprons.
Fhrss of them, ruffled sod shltilaf and whits,
Tbs »pron« thst grandmamma mads;
(he kissed me—“ You’re always to wear than to
school
| |To keep your dress tidy,” she said.
But oh, as I look at tbs itttchss so Saa,
Tbs ruffles and each dainty head.
They seem mors Ilk# keepsake* thaa every-day
.clothes,
_ The work of that deer wrinkled hand.
And still, she would rather I’d use them, I knew,
So I’U wear them just u I waa told;
The Hus, even sewing ao pattenUy dons
Will be there the Mine when they’re old.
. *. ■ - ' . j
And then I will fold them with lavender sweet
And ley them sway tn a drawer,
To show to my chlldrau wbst grandmamma did
When aha was almost eighty-four. -»•**.
— Yuvth'i Companion. *»
’ Thinking hia mind was wandering, I
laid my hand gently on hie.
He smiled as he looked ai me.
“ Thee hast thy mother's name, Ruth,
and her kind heart as well, bnt thy eyee
are like thy father’*. He hae been here,
thanking me for providing for his orphan
girls. This was our room when we were
boys, thee knows. Dear old Joe ! before
tiie dawning of another day we shall
meet”
John and I looked at each other in
wondering awe. Two years before I
stood at my father's dying bed; was it
the name mysterious shadow that made
their faces look so strangely like ? .
The dying man continued :
“ Thy father and I were brothers.
Did he never speak to thee of his broth
er Tom, who forsook home snd country
lx cause a girl, as false ss fair, broke her
troth to wed s richer suitor ? Yon hsve
both been very kind to the poor old man
who came to you a stranger. I have not
rgotten it, as the papers in >y desk
will show.”
L An examination of the papers alluded
to not owly proved that my poor uncle
spoke truly, but that he died in the pos
session of bonds and stock to theamonnt
of 820,000; “ to be divided equally—so
ran the few lines that comprised his will
—between his two nieces, Ruth and
Margaret Gray.”
Of courae, John and I married. Hia
mother end Margie live with os, and a A wmiT*m in the Cincinnati Enquirer,
Henry Clay took a fancy to
W«*al, end never hat an opportunity d
paying him pomonel attenbon. One day,
elide (Day was walksng with
they sun I n shop where mm
manufacturing rignra. CUy ri|
a tr] fiar at the dexterity of the wtvkmeci,
and aakl that it must require yean of
i|x nonce to do the work with such ap-
l«rent CMS. . “Oh, no,” Mr. Wood re
plied, “they uAvly cutoff a paeee of the
udieera, roll some of the dry part in
their hands, then wrap it up, and the
whole thing is done. Any peraon can
make a cigar.’*
“If you think so," said Clay, “per
ils; a you had better try.”
The young Congressman sat down,
t<Hik a knife and a leaf d tobacco, and
with a dexterous eat prepared his wrap
per. He then broke the filling to the
proper size, rolled it all up together,
twisted the small, symmetrical pigtail at
the end, cat off the top, and handed the
w II-made cigar to the Kentucky Sen
ator.
Clay was amazed. Wood had become
a skillful cigarmaker during the cholera
season, while in the tobacco trade. The
shopkeeper stared with wonder at this
new Congreesional accomplishment. The
joke rau the rounds of Oongrees, ant
was frequently told at Clay's expense.
IN SELF-DKrXNSm.
A Galveston German was very much
annoyed by a neighbor’s dbg that jumped
over into his garden and scratched np
things generally. The aggrieved party
swore be wonld shoot the dog. Next
day the dog came into the garden aa
usual. The German rushed for hia gun.
The dog saw what was coming and
jumped back over the fence, bnt not in
time to avoid a load of shot. The owner
of the dog In-ought suit, and the German next day, and was real grateful
become scared snd consulted a friend as
to what he should say when brought np
in court.
“You must say,” aaid (he friend
“ that you shot the dog in self-defense. ”
“ I must say 1 shoot him in his self
defense. Den de tog’s self-defense iah
on de same end vere his tail vaeh—don’t
it 1”—Galveston News.
after a critical inspection of New York
women, says that the higher you go in
the social scale the farther you get from
beauty, and thst the Bowery shop girls
are, in that raspeot, far superior to the
“ swell" young
' Ssms Hint* for Boys.
Avoid that which yon see amiss in
othera.
Follow the examples only of the good.
Keep your ears open to all that is
worth hearing, and closed to all that is
not.
An older person’s experience is of no
value to you unless you profit by it.
You are not building on the future,
but on the post and present
Evil communications corrupt good
manners.
Nobody wants to deal with s double-
minted boy.
Be industrious ; the world wants boy*
who are not afraid of hard, steady work.
“ The empty vessel makes the great-
cat sound." . ^ \
Borne boys inherit golden fortunes,
bat no boy ever inherited s scholarship,
a good character or a useful life.
If you would be capable, cultivate
your mind ; if you would tie loved, cul
tivate your heart
Never excuse s wrung artexi by say
ing some one else doee the same thing ;
this is no excuse at all—Anon.
My Monkry.
There never wae such lock. I’ve al
ways thought that I’d rather hero a
moukevrthan be a miUkmmre. There is
nothing that could lie half so eplambd
ss a real live monkey, but of enures I
knew that I never could have one until
I should grow up and go to am and
bring home mockers and parrots and
shawl* to mother just as aailora ahray*
Vx Bet I’ve actually got a monkey.
It was Mr. TreventW got them*, ikey
for me. One day there came a woman
with an organ and n monkey into • u
J—*
She was an Italian, bnt she could
■peak a sort of English, and she aaid
that the “murderin' spalpeen of a
monkey wae just wearing the life of her
out” 8o any* Mr. Travers, ’’ What will
you take for him ? " and aays ahe ** It's
86 I’d be after selling him for, and may
good lock go wid ye I "
What did Mr. Travers do bui give her
the money and hand the monkey to me,
■eying: “ Here, Jimmy 1 take him snd
be happy." Wasn’t I just happy though?
Jocko—that's the monkey’s name—ie
the loveliest monkey that ever lived.
Toby Tyler may talk about hia “ Mr.
Stub be,’’ and tell how he understands
everything said to him, and beg. for
erollen, and all that; but I tell you
“ Mr. Stubbs " ires just an ordinary il
literate monkey alongside of my Jocko.
I hadn’t had him an hour when he got
out of my anna, apd wae on the supper
table before I could get him. The table
was all set, and Bridget waa just going
to ring the bell, but the monkey didn’t
wait for her.
To see him eating the chicken aalad
was ju«t Wonderful. He finished the
whole dish in about two AiixatM, and
was washing it down with the oil oat of
the salad bottle when I caught him.
Mother waa awfully good about it and
only said, “Popr little beast, he most be
half starved. Susan, how mnch he re
minds me of your brother.” A good
mother is as good a thing as a bt) de
serves, no matter how good he is.
The salad somehow did not seem to
agree with Jocko, for he was dreadfully
sick that night Yon should have seer
how limp he was, just like a girl that has
fainted away and her young man is try
ing to lift her np. Mother doctored him.
She gave him castor ofl as if he waa her
own son, and wrapped him np in a blan
ket and put a mustard plaster on his
stomach and soaked the end of his tai
in warm water. He was all right the
Iknqw
he was grateful, because he showed it b i
trying to do good to others, at any rats
to the cat Our cat wouldn’t speak to
him at first, bnt he coaxed her with
milk, jnst as he had seen me do, am
finally canght her. It most have been
very aggravating to the cat, for, instead
of letting her have the milk, he insi
that she was sick and must have jedi
cine. So he took Bridget’a bottle o
hair oil and a big spoon, and . ave the
cat such a doae. When I caught him
and made him let the eat go there were
about six table spoonfttla of oil min
Mr. Travers said it waa a good thing,
for it would improve the eat’* voice am
make her yowl smoother, and that ha
find Iah lor a long time that ahe ought
tobeedei Mother arid that the mot
key was cruel and it was a ah—» but
know that ha meant to he kind. He
knew thet the oil toother gave hia hA
ha wnntod to do the
cat good. I know just how he felt, for
ve been blamed many a time for try
ing to do good, and I can tell you it ak
ways hurt my feelings.
The monkey wss in the kitchen while
Bridget wss getting dinner yesterday,
and he watched her broil the steak as if
ie was meaning to learn to cook and
lelp her in her work, he’s that kind and
houghtfol The eat wss outdoors, but
two of her kittens were in the kitchen,
and they were not old enough to b«
afraid of the monkey. When dtftwer
was served Bridget went, up stairs, and
by-aad-by mother aays : “ What’s that
dreadful smell ? sure’s as you’er alive,
Ia»an, the baby has fallen into the fire."
Everybody pimped up and ran np
stain, all bnt me, for I knew Jocko waa
[n the kitchen and I was afraid it waa ha
that waa burning. H hen I got into the
titchen there was that lovely monkey
broiling one of the kittens on the grid
iron jnat aa he had seen Brldret broil
the steak. The kitten’s fur was aings-
ng and she was mewing, nd the other
kitten wse sitting np on the floor Hoking
her chops and enjoying R, and Jocko
was on hia hia hind-legs as solemn and
may as an owL I snatched the gridiron
away from him and took (he kitten off
before she waa burned any except her
far, and when mother and Busan came
dewn stairs they couldn’t understand
what it was that had been burning, and
gueaaed the oook must have put agg
anells oo the fire.
This is all the monkey has done tmee
I got him day before ysetsrday. Father
hae been away for a week but is coming
back in a few days, and won't he be de
lighted when he finds a monkey ia the
house ?—Harper'* Young PeopU.
_ "MB lACWtXM~A
WABtm.
One day a troop of Jackals wars asr
toniahed beyond measure at the appear-
of a Lion in their midst, and
their surprise could not be imagined
when his countenance assumed a ple*»
ant expression, and he remarked :,
“ Friends, I have come to settle among
yon sad be a neighbor. I want to be
friendly with eseb and everyone and
think well of all, and I trust ws shall
dwell together in harmony.” ,
“Hooray for the lion I Hurrah for the
old man-killer 1” cheered the Jackals,
and they were tickled to death at their
good hick. ,
Bnt th* Lkm had hardly got his 4m
in order when one of the Jackals earns
sneaking in and began :
I—I—that ia—delicate subject, you
know — embarrassed, you see—ah —
hum.”
“ My friend, if you have anything to
toy to me, be at your ease,” replied the
lion.
“Well, I simply want to drop yew a
hint Don’t be too sweet on John Jack
al Hia great-grandfather waa banished
for cause, and hia wile's second cousin ia
a wall-eyed villain.”
The Lion received the Information
without remarks, and the caller went
away, chuckling over the idea that he
had sowed good seed. Next day a
second Jackal appeared, beat around
the bash lor a while, and than oh-
you
•*1 leal it my duty
against Joe Jackal, who
his
TMB TIBTVMA OW SMO0OLAWM.
The ordinary chocolate, as
ured in Paris, Italy and
poeed at ooeoa, vfinilla and
who desire a toon
•ad of vanilla, and a
quantity of spies. It ia to be
that chocolate, when required for
not be melted tn a pen. which ia
to abeorb the saacntlal off The
Milene-w nee e p*
the environs at Milan. Anted and
circular in farm, between two d which
they erneh the ehaeoiete tableta.
reedy stated that Milan is celebrated lor
and it iwr tiie re seen t
do not absorb any d
t a] unble properties. What theea are
will endeavor to deembe from cob pa
tent authorities.
< in mod de 1a Beynetre, ia the “Al-
anaeh dee Gorinasnda ” far IMS, aays
thet, twenty years before, chocolate
the breakfast for old men only, but thet
it had become ia tiioea days the noonsh-
t of all who wished to keep their
freeh and vigorous, and
of thorn whose brains were on a par
a fowl's. It may he a valuable hint to
ladies and gentlemen who
perniciona habit of 8 o’clock
nimoua because it undoubtedly destroys
the appetite for dinner—that chocolate
baa not that effect. It was neeeaaary to
discover a substance, at ones light and
nutritious, friendly to the intellect and
digestion, which, while enabling na to
await a late dinner with equanimity,
would not interfere with oor doing honor
to that meal. Therefore ohocolate was
invented. La Reyneire specially recom
mends its use to men of letters, to con
sumptive people, and to the ladies,
whose charms, he declares, a cup of
chocolate every morning for breakfast
will preserve indefinitely. If that be ao,
then, indeed, this article hae not been
written in vain. The author of the
‘ ‘ Phyuiologie du G*ut ” aays that, how
ever copiously you may have lunched, a
cup of chocolate immediately afterward
will produce digestion three hours after,
and prepare the way for a good dinner.
He also strorgly recommends it to the
man of pleasure; to every one who de
votes to brain-work the hours he should
pass in bed; to every wit who finds he
has become suddenly dull; to all who
find the air damp, the time long, and
the atmosphere insupportable; and,
above all, to those who, tormented with
a fixed idea, have lost their freedom of
thought
To make ohocolate fit must never be
cat with a knife), an ounce and a half in.
requisite for a cup. Dissolve it gradually
in hot water, stirring in the while with
a wooden spoon; let it boil for a quarter
of an hour, and serve it hot, with milk
or without according to taste, “ Mora
than fifty yean ago,” relates Briltet-
Savarin, “ Madame d’Areatrel, the Lady
Bupsrkr of the Convent of the Visita
tion at Belley, told me that if I wished
to drink really good ohocolate, it must
be made the night before, in aa earthen-
pot and left The night’s
it and givaa it a
which makes it mnch baiter.”—.
Globe. .
A maa having announced that he was
ones ia a oommaaity where they all
minded their own k—aaa, hia
meat wns doubted, and ha wss
upon to tall whs* it wan “It
ship at saa,
all tee asek te
to
livaa
creek. He baste hia wife,
neighbors, and ia a double
hypocrite by the watch.”
Boon another appeared with a
•lory about aooae ona ales ia th
moaity, and in the eeane d a I
the Lion fait it hia duty to eaD a public
When the Jackals had gath-
“I find, fay your own stetemeate, that
you are a community d thieves. Item,
deed-beats sad •windier*, sad hence
forth you can fight your own battles and
your own booee,
farewell P
who trim
by pulling hia neighbor down
poo* heed way.—Detroit Pro* At
mMWVMMMD BT A WttBM.
It only takes a areal) tiling at tin
'• life.
dsr?'* observed si
s new member of
of very greet •hibty.
about him. Fifteen
living in the i
lew before the i
the buaincaa he
took to drinking, snd gradually want
down. We all felt a deep sympathy
with him, bees nee he was too good to
throw away, and wa decided to try the
old plan oo him. Bo four wgutto-
•at ber-roaaa, where wa k
find him. ’Come on in,
something,’ we
da Give me n
While we war
managed to drop ai
into hia glass. Wa all drank hut Tom.
Ha took np hia glas^ looked at it care
fully, then put it down. We rallied him
on hia cowardice, snd ha made another
desperate effort, but he eooldnt lore
sight of that worm. * What’s the mat
ter, Tom? Why don’t you drink?'
After a vaeaot stare he aaid: 'Well, I
ain’t thirsty,’ and walked toward the
door. I have been told, and believe it,
that this was hia last Ha broke off
froth that day, and hia natural talents
shot np again like a cork. Hare ha ia
now.”— Wcuhington Capital
GIANT POWDltB.
Chemistry ia at a loaa to estimate the
power of nitro-glycerine, and yet this
new agent of death » 20 per cent,
stronger. In {he manufacture of nitro
glycerine, two tubes, each about a quar
ter of an inch in diameter, and six inch
es in length, lead into a single tube of
double their capaetty, but of the aama
length. Nitric acid 1* introduced into
one and sulphuric acid into the other of
there small tubes. The large tube oon-
glycerifie. The iwo acids are then
uite gradually into the glycerine,
and the chemical combination thnaloxma
an esplonivo and incalculable power. e
So powerful anduliiiigeroiis is this article
that not an ounce of it is allowed in the
manufactory while this tub*', six inches
long and half an inch in diameter ia
being filled, and this tube is kept con
stantly swathed in ice during the pro
cess. To make giant powder, nitro
glycerine is allowed to drip nptm a clay
(similar to meerschaum) imported from
Germany. This day is the only jidert
absorbent of ni tro-glyoerins ■jph At
Hercules powder is darker,
that that explosive is man
(U