Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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r ,r" i i. AHMm for pab)kBtloa tkovld bo writtw hi • door, k|iblo hand, and on only oaaddo of (ho page. 4, All ohoagoo la advertiaemenU Boat caoh no oa Frladr. burhah THS M A \ WHO PA Y81 i There are men of braine whuxaaa!HtHt gain* By the million dollare «Jr more; They bny and aell, and rt ally do well On the money of the poor. They manage to get quite deep M^debt By Tarion* crooked ways; And ao we aay that the man to-day la the honeet man who pays. When In the town he never sneaks down Home alley or way-back street; With head erect he will never deflect, But boldly each man meet. He counts the cost before he is lost In debt’s mysterious maze, And he never buys In manner unwise But calls for his bill, and pays. There'* a certain air of debonair In the man who bnya for cash; He is not afraid of being betrayed By a jack-leg shyster's dash. ► What be says to yon he will certainly do, If it’s cash or thirty days; Anil when he goes ont the clerks will shout Hurrah for the man who pays ! —Itick SU+U-, in Trx<u isiflinqi. Lucky Hit. * Hinim Veazie was a plain, good- hearted, honest farmer’s boy, whoso parents lived on the fArm whore his grandfather was Imrn, m if IfuTf a cToz ii miles from Angnsta, Me. With a good common school education, and a natural aptitude, Hiram was considered at the age of twenty to he a very promising young man, and was certainly of great service to his father njam the farm. Old Mr. Veazia was comfortably situated as to peenniary means; first, liecanse his wants were few, and secondly, l>ecause his laud very nearly supplied them all. Hnt when Hiram asked his father to advance him some small amount with which to eornmeiree business, the good old man frankly acknowledged his ina bility, and rather wondered that his sou could not content himself on the farm, an his father and grandfather had done before him. The truth was, that Hiram hail from boyhood, and during all his school bonrs, l>een the intimate friend and companion of pretty Lucy White, the si pure's daughter, and this childish friendship had ripened with years into love. Lncy’a father understood the position of nfTaira perfectly ladwren the young people, but never interfered, until one day when Hiram took the old gentleman one side, and asked him for Lucy aa his wife. Old Squire White, as he was universally called, replied kindly, hnt firmly, that Hiram must first acquire some trade, and means enough to sup- js'rt Lucy, before ho could give his con sent to such an arrangement. The future looked blank to Hiram, therefore, for he was but a poor farmer’s boy. Lucy was a gentle and lovely girl of lit, as intelligent as she was pretty ; she loved Hiram sincerely, but she was too Bonsible to sit down with him and pine over the situation of atTairs. She was a practical Yankee girl, ami her advice to Hiram was sound ami loving. “Go,” she said, “to Boston or New York. You are active, good-looking, intelligent and industrious—the very characteristics that command place, I should say, in a large city, and see if yon do not find-the means of earning such wage* as shall help you to lay by something.^ I, too, will be indaetrions^ in the meantime, and what little I can save shall go to make up the necessary aum for the purchase of a suuj; little * home for us.” Hiram kissed his sweet little school mate, and promising her that she would never for one hour l>e out of his mind, soon gathered a small sum of money to gether, and with* a kind farewell and the ' blessing of his old father and mother, he took the cars i for Boston. It was his first visit to a large city, and at the out set he was almost bewildered; but, seek ing economical lodgings, he began at ouoe to look abemt himself for employ ment. This he femnd it hard to obtain, but he was daily growing more and more conversant with city life andwaya, and he wrote every few days to Lucy a digest of his observations and fortunes. A fortnight or three weeks in Boston made fearful inroads into his slender purse, and at the suggestion of some new itcqnaintance ho determined to go to New York^, Here ho passed some two weeks with various adventures, but without finding an hour of paying occupation. He wan dered everywhere, ol►servingam]jicarcty ing ont places, inquiring fteely of all, until, at the end of the third week, ho bad but a single dollar left in his iiooket, and felt for the first time nearly dis heartened. In this mood he strolled , through one of the uptown cross streets above Union Park, and found hia atten tion attracted by the operation of a stejim sawmill, which he entered and qnietly wutofetd the business of. He saw a small but efficient engine driving four saws fed by four men, while there stood at a desk hard by one evidently the manager of the establishment. Hiram felt a stroiur interest in what he aaw; there were largo pilee- of excel lent lumber in the building, an article he waa familiar with from childhood; and he watched the process of sawing it np, carefully observed to what purpcoe the wood waa put, and aaw a couple of h^ndu in a further part of the shop en gaged in dovetailing the pieces together, ■ and forming the lumber into boxes of vkrioua sizes. He consumed so much time, and waa ao minute in hia obeer- fair cheek, bathed with happy tears, upon bis shoulder; sod her kind old mother said that she had but one re lighted at his new acquaintance, who took hold of the work ao handily, and above all felt that he had at once given him an idea worth half his business and more. Mr. Hard was an honest and faithful man, and unhesitatingly kept his promise, installing Hiram in the busi ness with one half the profits. The reader may imagine the letter which Hiram wrote to his faithful Lucy, and how she encouraged him in return ; and how the business proved exceedingly prosperous, and how it was enlarged, and Hiram fonnd himself at the end of a twelvemonth worth some two thousand dollars ; and how Squire White pressed his hand warmly when he returned to ask for Lacy, and told him to “take her,” and how Lucy blushing laid Tier vation, that at last the proprietor came np to him and addressed him pleasantly: “You seem to 1ms quite Interested? lie remarked to Hiram. “Yes, 1 have seen a great deal of lum ber tn my day, and I was calculating how much-yon proliably used np in this way.” every week.” “Ho I should think, and best number ones, too.” < “Yes, we require the very best stock, and lurnWr is ‘up’ now.” “How much do you pay?” “Twenty-four dollars a thousand, all elear and assorted." “What do yon do with all these boxes?” continued Hiram. “Oh, wo can sell them quicker than (vo can make them, for packing soap, chemicals, etc." “Bather heavy for that purpose, I should say,” added Hiram. v“Well, they are rather heavy, but wo can’t get boards sawed any different; they are down to the lowest gauge of the lumber mills.” Hiram looked thoughtful, bandlod the boxes, examined the saws, talked good common sense, business style, to the man, and at last he said, half-aerioosly, half in jest: “Yon don't want a partner, do you ?” “Why, no, not exactly; though if 1 hail one who would*put in a couple of thousand dollars, and would take hold heartily himself, I wouldn't mind shar ing the thing with him, and throwing in the machinery.” “I haven't got any money,” said Hiram; “but I will give you an idea al>out this matter, and will take hold and give my time^ in u way that I think it will be worth much as the sum you name, in a short time, provided you will give me half the business.” “I like the way you talk,” said the man, honestly; “but this is an (Hid proposition !” ‘Ton say you pay twenty-four dollars a thonsaud for ihe Ijoards ?” _ “Yea.” “Supposing I bring them down to twelve at once, and make neater and bet ter lioxes for your purpose ?” . “If yon flan do that I will share with you at once, for my fortune would be made." . “Will yon give me a chance to try the thing after my own fancy, for one day, say, commencing to-morrow morn ing?” “Yes,” said the man, after a moment’s hesitation. “lean see no harm, though I am to be away to-morrow forenoon.” After a little longer talk, and a care ful understanding that there should be no experiment tried that should risk the machinery, Mr. Hurd, the box-maker, gave ordera to hia people that Mr. Veozie was to be obeyed on the following fore noon, the same as though he were him self to givrp the orders, and that he should returu at noon. Rirani at onco took off his coat, measured one of the saws and asked if it. was the largest ; he was told that it was. This ho was at first sorry for, but still, carefully taking hia measures upon a piece of paper, he soon disappeared. He remembered a hardware store, not far distant, which he had passed that very afternoon; to this he repaired, and selected a circular aaw, twice as large as any that Mr. Hurd had, and of a differ ent make in the teeth; he also got some braces and bolts of a size and style which he appeared to understand, and telling the storekeeper that he wanted them for Mr. Hard in the next street, he found no difficulty in getting them on credit. With matters thus arranged, he re turned to his l>oarding-ptace and studied in his own mind as to how he would carry ont the plan he had conceived. It was about twelve o’clock, noon, on the following vAay, when Mr. Hurd re turned to' his shop, where he found Hiram Veaxie in his shirt sleeves, and with a pair of “overalls” on, at work be fore a large aplitting saw which he had erected upon one of the benches, and to which he had applied the steam power. He was splitting the boards, which were fully thick enongh to admit of it, and thus making the boards prodoce just twice aa many boxes as heretofore, with an eqnal amount of labor, sinOe those who finished them np into boxes after they were sawed, could work enough faster with the thinner lumber to make up for the occupation of one hand to tend the splitting saw. Mr. Hurd looked on with astonish ment ; already were a score of boxes and more manufactured of the new thickness, and they were actually more valuable, as the thickness was ample for all purposes'of strength, and the weight reduced one-hall He waa also de gret, and that was to part with Lucy, “who would now go away to live in York BUte.” But all this waa ao, and Lucy and Hiram were married, end. their friends declared that Heaven made the match, and worked a miracle for Hiram Yeazie, who was so good, and industrious and generous-spirited. But these are not the days of miracles, and the reader knows very well that it was all brought about by the most natural agencies. Three years only have passed since Hiram was married, as we have re lated in this veritable story, and on the Bloomingdale road, not a long walk from the large factory of Hurd A Venzie lives Hiram amLliis lovely companion. The large and pleasant house in which they reside, is his own, and a handsome surplus besides. Each annual Christmas they return to tlwir childhood’s home, and Lucy thinks the journey is healthy for lit!It: Hiram. WOKDM or WISDOM VKOM TAKADiMA HAM.. THE LEPER U1UL. The Kxprr.lenn* of « IIi»iioImIm .Vlaldrn linn- Inhrd Irnui llrr l.ow-r. A Honolulu letter to the Chicago Newt says : “Amongihe last to come on shore was a half-white girl,' whose history I promised in the first pajH-r. She was the child of u native woman, whose father waa a chief of Kaulft.-by the owner and master of a Yankee whaling barque. When the whaling skipper, becoming rich, retired from business and settled in the islands at Hilo, he brought his native wife to the home he had made, and set to work to make a Christian of her; you may readily faifey that his methods were crude, like his orthodoxv, and he in- dnlged in rum and spiritual lessons in unequal proportions, punctuating bis teachings in One and his indulgence in Hie other with wife-beatings to such an extent that the simple-minded woman thought it well to die. This^she did, and a jury, who were crmsfderiug the re sponsible share that the captain had in her demise, found themselves deprived of any painful duty by the suicide of the captain by the sailor-like method of a rope. Tim -girl lived for a time under the charge of a Presbyterian missionary, and became a teacher in the school. She was, and is yet, a beautiful creature, aud a young English engineer, engaged at one of the big sugar plantations, fell in love with her. He was a fine young fel low, and the match was approved by all who had the interests of the two _ at heart, when one day there appeared on the face of the girl a blazing red spot, which spread from the cheek to the ear, and then developed into tulicreules over the neck—and they said she was a leper. This happened in June, The girl de clared she was not, bufr the inexorable law forced her away to Honolulu. Mean while she declared she was not alllicted, and insisted on 1 raving her lover believe she was temporarily in Honolulu visiting and making some purchases, and so on, preparatory to tho wedding set for Oo-^ tober. But there came a time when she could no longer deceive herself and no one would underceive him. One day he came to Honolnlu on business. It was the day appointed for the sailing of the lepers, and her case rapidly advancing, she, with the rest, was being led to the steamer when her lover saw her. One wild aarfiMOL from her, jyud be had dashed at the guards in a vain effort to rescue her. In a few minutes ho is dragged away by tho police, and she, in a fainting condition, is carried to the vessel. Ail night this girl lay upon her breast sobbing, and now, looking as wild os night, she springs ashore and casts a look around. Then she sees tho priest standing there, and falling at his feet, clasps his knees and cries for help. “Yon are good,” she says. “J love him so. He is in prison. I shan’t see him again. Let him come to me. Ho will oomo. We love each other. I have given him everything, but he does not love me less localise I am a leper.” But the priest strove only to raise her. Then she called ont: “Oh, God ! if this be indeed Thy priest, show me that Thou art kind and move his heart. ” I turned away, bnt 1 saw the old priest’s cheeks were wi t with tears, and that he held in his arms the fainting form of one whose greatest grief was not alone in her leprosy. A Fish Story.- The latest fish story comes from Lonisiana. A gentleman traveling wat overtaken by a storm aud suddenly almost felled to the ground by a catfish that struck him on the head. In a mo ment he was literally pelted with fishes, ho that his bone ran aw^l and he was fhe PrrsMent Give* GeeS ASvtee-Sretker MeSeatr. [From th« Detroit Free PMK.1 After the stove-pipe had been knoeked down by the efforts of Glveadam Jones to rest both his feet on the hearth at once and Judge Cadaver, Pickles Smith and Blossom Johnson had heroically re stored it to place Brother Gardner arose and said: •' “One^great canse of human misery am tie fack that mankind expects too much of Providence. Take de case ob Elder Toots, for instance. Far de last sixty y’ars he has been waitin’ fnr Prov- idi-uoe to atop tho leaks in his cabin roof an’ he am waitin’ yit. He somehow ex- pccks dat Providence am going to famish him pie an’ cake an, oyster sonp, an’ when he sots down to cold talers an tuff meat he feels as if he had been wronged. —•~ “Take de case of Bradawl Jalap. Ho has alias had de idea dat he would some day be rich, an’ aa a oouackcnoe ho soU on de fence an’ plans new houses, an’ drives fast bosses, an’ w’&ra good clothes while his wife goes ragged, aud his chil dren have cold toes. What he might airn by honest labor lie won’t aim, l>e- knse ho hoi>e8 to git a fortune widnnt work. “I tell yon, my freu.i, de man who waits fur to-morrer tu sharpen his *i, < am sartiu to do poor ehoppiu’. De man who sots on de fence to wait fur a legacy will h’ar his wife scrapin’ de Bittern ob de tlbur band el>ery day in de week. De man who lets himself believe dat do world owes him a libin’ am gwine to cat some mighty poo’ fodder afore he dies. De world doan’ owe nobody miftip. Wo. am put heah to sot an’ starve or git np V dust. Providence won’t pay house rent, buy our ’taters or keep do cook- stove hot. Let us now pnrcced to biz- ness.” Bir Isaac Walpole desired to state lie- fore passing the l>can-l>oxthat he started out in life with the feeling that he would find a lost wallet containing $20,000. The idea lasted him until howas obliged to wear a suit made of coffee-sacking, and until he was reduced in flesh from 167 to ninety-eight pounds. He then kicked himself all over tho back yard nd went to work. TOO .KIND. The reading of the following com munication from Kalamazoo, Mich., created the utmost confusion: . “BiiomitK Gardkkk, Lime-Kiln Clubi _ “We, the undersigned, memliersof the El>ony Club, do most respectfully re quest that you will give yonr sanction to tho erection of a statue of yourself, as a companion to the Bartholdi statne, the statue to be of carved hickory, rest ing on a pedestal of Portland cement, tho statne to be lighted at the top with coon’s oil, pnmped np by a windmill. The height of the statue, including ped estal, to be 729 feet two and one-quarter inches, with an inscription carved in cast iron at the base large enough to be seen ten miles reading: ‘Wisdom Giv- iug Light to the World.’ We suggest that the subscriptions to tho statue be limited to a half cent for each person, thus giving colored people all a chance to aid this splendid work of art. “Bildad Boodle, Purloin Fowl, Mid night Black, Inky Pitch, Y’ulcan Cane, Harrison Bcraggs, Jordan Batts, Opaque Cole, Darkness Spades, Worldly Bales, Liberia Case, Ivory Wilks. And 279 others.” For two or throe minutes the uproar was so great that pedestrians on the street below halted in terror, and one ex cited individual tore a letter-box off a lamp-post in his frantic efiorts to sonnd a fire alarm. When the President had finally commanded silence it coaid be seen that he was considerably overcome, and there was a trembling id his voice ns he said: “GemTen, to say dat I feel flattered an’ prond an’ dizzy am not saying half ’nnff, but I hope do ideah of sich a statue will go no furder. All I want am to lib qnietly an’ softly, an’ to die wid- out stoppin’ de City Hall clock or turn in’ out de tiah department. From de bottom of my heart I thank do Bbony Club, bnt at do same time request it to take no furder steps. ” in great danger. Several thousand of the fishes were rained ^pwn in this way, and it waa finally discovered that a whirlwind had scooped them up, carried them off aud hurled them again upon the ground. VaKDKHBIlt’s house on Fifth avenue has no number upon it as the law re- uirex. He looks upon it as Number ne and experts evervtiody else to ie* cognize it as such without the foolish ness of figures. . V fl “What did that lady say ?” asked Mr. Biiycm to his confidential clerk. “I’d rather not repeat her words, sir,” re plied tho clerk. “But I most know, Mr. Plume—must know, sir.” “Oh 1 if yon insist upon it, sir, I suppose I must tell you. She mid you were all business, but you lacked culture.” “Bo?” ex- ■ claimed Mr. Buyem in astonishment. "Lack culture, eh? Look here, Mr. Plume; d’ye know you’d oughter told me o' that long ago ? Let’s have some right away, before Scrimp A Blowhard can get ahead of us. on Trantcripi. "Bo you want to know someth ing about snake bitea?” mid Professor Worth, at the North Side Chicago Mu seum, in answer to 4 question of s re porter. “I was bitten by a snake," con tinued tho collector of curio sitiea, “and had a most remarkable escape from death. A snake bit me on the thumb, you see, and it had to be amputated to mve my life,” and here he showed a very short stump of thumb on the left hand. -V “He# did it happen ?” "I was feeding the snakes with raw lieef, as I had no birds or mice. There were sixty of them in tho case from two to six feet long. 1 hod no stick in my hand—su unusual oversight of mine— and had to pnsh back any that tried to get oat with my hand. Suddenly three of them made an attempt to escai>e in us many different directions. Thinking to frighten them back I Rlauqicd, shouted ai^d struck at them with my haud. Two dropped back, hut one of them stood his ground and raised his head toward me— he was a rattlesnake. I made a quick pass at him, hut he waa quicker, and buried his fangs in my thmnb. I shook him back in the cose, closed the lid, and sucking my injured linger, hurried for the door and sent a policeman after an ambulance and a friend for whisky. 1 drank a quart of whisky, and was un conscious in twenty miuutes. The doc tors took it for a case of alcoholism and pum]H‘d the whisky out of me, or I would never have lost my thumb. They had never had a rattlesnake bite to deal with and didn’t know what to do; but the next time 1 got rattlesnake poison in me I treated myself.” “Have you l>een bitten since?” “No, but I ran a fang that one of them had shed into my other thumb a few mouths ago. That was the first time I knew of rattlesnakes shedding their poison-fangs. I was cleauiug out the case and something scratched my thumb through tho sponge. I took it for a sliver at first, bnt when I came to look nt it I found it was a fang. I knew 1 was poisoned again.” “What did you do then ?’’ “Why, I used rattlesnake violet, of which I made an infusion, and it quickly enred mo. I was in the hospital throe months the first time, aud lost my thumb. Tho other is as good as ever, yon see." “Do you know of any other cases ?” was asked. “Y’es. Mr. Wallack, an actor, was bitten on the leg by a rattlesnake in this State years ago. He bnried tho leg in earth for twenty-four hours, and the gravity of the earth drew the poison and cured him, but every year, within a day or two, or exactly u}h>u the day on which he was bitten, his leg turns spotted like the snake. A farmer in Tennessee, another acquaintance of mine, was bitten by one of these cotton- month moccasins. The latter are nasty snakes; they throw out froth, aud ’Whenever this froth tenches the skiu it poisons. He made a tea of rattlesnake- root, imbibed freely of whisky, and was enred, but every year tho foot that was bitten tnrns tho same color as the cot ton-mouthed moccasin. “I know of another man who lives in the snake.regions of New York who was bitten by a rattlesnake. He made a tea of rattlesnake violet, applied a salve mode of iron root and enred himself. He was bitten in the ankle, and every year, same as the others, his leg became spotted like the snake. Another man whom I know was bitten on the leg by a rattlesnake while in the mountains, three miles away from any house. He made the best time he could to the nearest farm, but tho limb was fright fully swollen by that time. The woman there seemed to bo considerably versed in rattlesnake bites. She ran out in the yard, caught a chicken, split it in two aud applied it to the wound. It ab- aorlied the poison very fast, turning green. Then she threw it away and applied another in the same manner, until she had used twenty-one chickens and effected a complete cure. This man’s leg, too, gets spotted yearly.” “Is this chicken cure common ?” “Yes, but generally a much smaller number is sufficient. The case I spoke of was a bad one.” “Are there any other cures ?” “Yes. A madstone is a good thing, i have one in my oollectiou. It cures rattlesnake and mad-dog bites, and is porous like pumice-stone. When you want to nse it dip it in milk or tepid water, to open the pores. Then you icarify the wound, to make it bleed, and apply the stone. It sticks like a leech for perhaps an honr, absorbing the poison till every pore is full,‘and then drops off. Yon clean it by dipping it in the milk again, and keep on applying it until the poison is nnder control f but in case of a mad-dog bite it must lie ap plied within the first five days, before line/ shouts: “Give us Free Lumber 1” If there is a person in the world entitled to free lumber it is an editor. If there is a person who gets more of it, thongh in the shape of cord-wood for sabscrip- tions, it is the editor. Yes, for heaven’s sake, send him a load of lumber “free,” and see what he will make of il,—Peck'* Sun. absorb the poison quick enough to save life. These madstnues are not believed in up here, because i>eople dou’t know anything about them. Down Sonth, however, where they are known, they are greatly used.” IhuiBg Dr. Dio Lewis’s “Gypsying la the Sierra*,” he tweemgmttelk interested la Professor Tapp, of Sai who tossed wfld and vistops oat sfetefts* or dregi doctor « herd of wild mosataiss, the professor said “You uiav pick oat aay this herd, ahd in two hoars I will driwt him betoro a boggy, mi when going dean hill will let theboggy lease oohto heels, without the leest rhdu” The doctor selected the largest horse, tbe leader ofthe herd. It took an hour to sepsoaU Mm from Ms fellows and drive him into the professor’s private corral, which was about the aim of a oirens-ring, with sand six indies deep, aud asmmnded by a close plank fence, twelve feet high. Dr. Lewis seated himself in the circle above, where he saw what he thus describes: Professor Tapp entered the eorral, holding in hMLiight hand a whip with a short stock and a long, heavy lash. In his left hand were a strong halter, mums the hitchiag-strap, two old potato- sacks, two straps, and a strong rope the spasms set in, because after that the Th* editef of the Rome, N. Y., Sen- .blood is so vitiated that the stone can’t Uttar, too: Mt minute tad dtoi of the towi, every day for a fortnight, and wat In bis kill accordingly. Farmer Groesbeek bled, protested. BOHXTHIHO ABOUT A POO. Gilhooly strolled into a fashionable Austin church tost Sunday joet before the service began. The sexton follomed him up, and tapping hiss on the shoul der and pointing to a small oar that had followed him into the wM: H appy is he that cherishes the dreams of his youth. about thirty feet long. Patting all these bnt the whip into a recess in the fence, the professor turned toward the horse. The animal was making frantic efforts to get away. The professor watched his opportunity, aud then ttie whip-cracker hit one of the horse’s tiind fetlocks. The horse scampered from side to side, and the cracker again hit tho fet lock. Within fifteen minutes this was repeated twenty to thirty times. The horse learned the lesson this treat ment was intended to convey—that there was only one safe place in the eorral, and that was close by Professor Tapp. There, there was no hurt, but a gentle, soothing voice. In half an hour, when the professor rau across the corral, the horse would run after him. Ho had learned that it was dangerous to be mors than ten feet away. Professor Tapp at length succeeded In touching Uie horse’s head with his hand. He started away, but before he had taken three steps came back. Within three-quarters of an hour tho headstall was on. The hone was fright- wood sod-wad km foot to remove it, It was now easy to rub his head and neck. The end of the whipstock then tickled hia side. The horse switched the spot with his tail, and the profeaeor caught the end of the long tail-hairs. This frightened the animal; he forgot, and the whipCracker oiBed him back. The professor then seized the tail, drew it toward him, tied into the end of the long bain a strong cord the other end of which was fastened to the iron ring of the headstall. This drew the head and tail toward each other. The hone began to turn in a circle, and soon was turning as fast aa he could. In a minute be fell, drunk with dizziness. The professor wound a potato-sack around each hind leg dose to tbe hoot and fastened a short strap over it. There waa an iron ring in each strap, and through both rings a rope was passed and tied upon itself, eighteen lashes from the hind feet. The long, loose end of the rope was passed between the horse’s forelegs, through the ring of the headstall, and then tied to a heavy ring in the wall of the corral. The cord connecting the head and tail was cut, and after a little time, the hone, ■till dizzy, roee alowly. When he fonnd he was fastened he made a tremendous struggle. The professor stood by the ring where the horse was tifcd. The animal could not turn his hsad from side to side because of the rope which ran through the ring of the head stall. He tried to back, and sat down in the sand. He sprang to his feet, again backed, and sat down in the sand. "Pretty soon,” sauTthe professor, "ha will switch his tail from aide to side; that means he gives np.” Within eight minutes tbe bone moved his tail from side to side. “Now he’s done," said tbe professor. He knelt down by the horse’s hind legs, untied the rope, unbuckled thp straps, walked behind him, put hia “Dogs are not admitted.” “That’s not my dog," responded Oft- booty. “Bnt he follows you.” “Well, so do you." Tbs sexton growled, and removed t^e animal without unnecessary viotohe*.— Texas Sifting*. A GOOD INCOME. “You appear to be gay and happy," •aid Gilhooly to Kosciusko Murphy, whom bo met at a ball at tbe resktonee of Cotouel Yerger, on Austin Aveone. You look well fed, are well dressed, and all that. Must have a good income, I presume.” “Oh, yes,” replied Kosciusko, “I can’t complain. I have my salary, fif teen hundred dollars; then I make five hundred a year by my literary labcm, that makes two thousand ; then I ran in debt a thousand dollars, that three thousand dollars. A single who oouldn’t subsist ou that ought to ha ashamed of himself.”—A fez. Sweet. live aotrNliJ FROM HOKU. New Servant—‘T like it km It seems just like my old home.* Mistress—“Indeed I Did you i in a house as large as this?" New Servant—“Oh, no. I was, not speaking c4 the house, I was tbiqkin’ how nice that noise up-stairs sounds. It reaunda me of home all the time." Mistress—“Ob, you mean that ham mering. That is my daughter. She is devoted to repousse work in brass It is very fashionable now and she has quite a talent that way. But how ean that re mind you of your home ? WbsswdM you live?" New Servant—“Next door to a hoik* factory, mom.” •4r- _ rLAXTAMOM A bald head ain’t alien de De turnip ain’t yer ent off de giUm*. I has know’d tendsr hearted man dat ■tress an’ cry, but at de aame time da hil a mighty tight grip on a dime I owed a man pact, mi’ nhon I spoke tar trim about‘ft h* said. *^touH think ob dat, for it’s all right,” but I noticed airter I quit thinking abont it, he took it up aa* thought abhaHt tBlil, worried me powerful. Ef a xian thinks he’s dona a tithin’ funny, an’ yer laugh, it pleases Mm mightily, but slyer laugh at trim tar do in’xn thin’ what ain’t funny, he don’t like it All through life a man wants Ms freiii’s ter took at Ma own an’ aot da own pleasure. '• • De ptuson what is only smart in odd thing may make a big success ob hisse’f, but he ooghten’tor Brink hard ob peo ple ease da gtto tired ob trim, I think more ob do mockin’Mad, not be cause he can sing better dsn any udder bird, but beqnp* he’s got ao many dif- ferent songa.—Arkamme froeeter. —iu — ■ on \ Plaatattoa Phtteeefhy. hands upon the hone’s hind lege, stuck — jggl^ his bead between them, patted and lead him about the eorral I waa obliged to leave, but I learned that he harnessed the home, and let the buggy strike hia heels while going down hill Tool Do nothin’. When de curmunity takes np.de no tion dat a man to er fool/dar mu* ne’n ✓ How to Makx SoamiAU—Take a grain of falsehood, a handful of run about, the same quantity ef nimble- tongne, a sprig of the herb backbite, a teaapoonfnl of don't-you-telt-it, six drops of malice, and a few drachma of envy. Add a little discontent and jealousy, and ■train through a bag of misconstruction, cork it np in a bottle of nmlevoleno*, and hang it np on s skein of street yam; keep it In a hot atmosphere; shake it occasionally for a few days, and it will be fit for use. Let a few dropabe talon before walking ont, aud tlie deaired ro ►nit will follow. o’ da ha gite mad, bub ds ■miles when he’s mad mighty oneasy. De poleitfcifn V aTi fur de good rk what to aFes good e’ dachiekin. ■lilPH ■ . v • v i 1 ‘Herb is that little jou.” “Ah II had completely Wu it” should have told that mt sooner F—French