The people. (Barnwell C.H., S.C.) 1877-1884, February 28, 1884, Image 1
PSALIt OF LIFE."
Tell me nut in mournful number*,
“Life ie but en empty ilream !"
the eoul U dead that elaubeni,
And thin^f are not what they eeem.
Life Ja real! Life it earneat!
And the gr*re U not it# goal ;
“Dust thou art, to durt returnest,”
Wat not apoken of the eoul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
la our destined end or way.
But to act that each to-morrow
Finds us further than to-day.
Art is long, and time la fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Btill, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle !
Be a hero in the strife.
Trust no fortune, howe’er pleasant;
Let the dead past bury its dead;
Act—act in the living present—
, Heart within and (hid o'erfcead !
I
Lives of great men aU remind us
We can make oiir liy^s sublime;
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time—
Footprints that perhaps-another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forelorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
I*t us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate.
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
Hrxmt W. Loxohullow.
VOJl
Poor Jack.
“Life ia worth nothing to me if I can
not drees well!”
She said it, and she meant it, from
her heart. And she looked down scorn-
folly and angrily npon h«k coarse dress
and common shoes. Msny and many a 1
time the thought had been in her mind;
and now it formed itself in words which
she ottered stood; and, as they fell
upon the evening air, a hand oame down
npon her shoulder, and, turning, she saw
her husband.
“Is it really so, BeU?” he aeked, and
drew her to him.
A baby thing, thiragh ebe Bad a
womans yean and stat—s a beautiful
creature, with a creamy skin and eyes
blue aa sapphires are. Not a common
woman ; one in whoae veins bine Mood
ran. You could aee that at a glance,
though the man whose wife she was was
a common sailor.
They told a romantic story about her
in that sea-side palace. How, on a
voyage across the ocean with her father,
the sailor had won her heart How there
were, afterward, secret meetings and
troth-plightings ; and how, in the end,
the discovery of the love affair and her
parent's anger had only driven Bell
Raymond to elope with her sailor lever,
and marry him despite all opposition.
She had been disowned and disin
herited ; and now, were they to meet in
the street her own father would have
passed her as he would a stranger; for,
to his mind, she had disgraced herself
and her family irretrievably.
That Jack Marble waa good and hand
some, and love-worthy, was no excuse
for his daughter ia Mr. Raymond’s eyes.
He was a common sailor, that blotted
out fill merit at once and forever.
Other people marvelled at Bell Ray
mond’s choice, and blamed her too. But
she waa very happy. Her young hus
band idolized her, and at the first money
was plenty. Oertain suns, whieb Jack’s
hard-working father had scraped together
for grainy day, and so bequeathed to
his son, were withdrawn from the bank
in which they had been deposited ; and
BeU bad a tasteful wardrobe, for this her
father had sen' her, with a cold message
to the effect t her own personal prop
erty was a s need ever expect at
his hands.
• Then soon Jack hoped to be a mate;
after that, a captain; some day, captain
and owner—the grand climax of a sea
faring man’s smbition. And to Bell, the
fact that her husband waa a tailor, threw
a romance about him which a landsman
could not have had. Their life passed
on in a plessant sort of waltz music, and
neither dreamt of any change.
Yet change negm Jack left hie young
wife for ayuyage, understanding, as she
could not, how the little hoard had
melted sway, and would continue to
melt like snow under a sunbeam, and the
voyage was a disastrous one, ending in
shipwreck. Many were loci, and Jack
only rescued at . death’s door with u
broken limb, and a miwrahic experience
of starvation and consequent cannibal
ism. Indeed, Jack himself came user
making a meal for two maddened mess
mates, who afterward wept like babies
»t the rtmembmnee of their horrible
thoughts.
Jack had a good constitution, and re
covered. His ness oame back, and hit
hair, long and lank, when they took him
from the fleeting raft, curled close to his
handsome head again. But hn oame
baek to Bell with a wooden leg Mid a
knowledge that .his sailor life waa over,
and that he should never now aspire to
the title of mate, and master, and
grew 1cm, the com
rooms to which he had taken her for a
very humble place; and poor Jack, salt
to the very aoul and unfit for any lands-
man’s work sa a flak for a parlor-cage,
humbled himself and said nothing of
that aching place where bis dreams of
sea and of advancement lay covered up,
and sunk into the vacant place left by an
old boatman who had plied his trade at
the wharf and along the shore of (ha
town where Jack had been born and had
lived all his life.
He had strong smut yet, and was a
wonderful oarsman, Mid they did not
starve. But their life was the pinching
life of the poor, and it came soon to the
coarsest fare and the coarsest drees; and
Bell, who had been used to dainty food
and elegant attire, suffered more th««
the sailor who knew what hard tack waa'
and was used to roughing it
He never knew how bitterly she re
pined until coming upon her in a day
dream he heard those words :
“Lifeis worth nothing tome if I must
go^shabby.’*
8he wept on his shoulder, as he held
her to him and sobbed out at heart.
“It was more than she could bear. It
was terrible. Their housemaid at home
had better clothes. It was horrible to
look out of the window and hear the
nailers’ wives quarreling with their hus
bands, or scolding their children, or
beating down the fish mongers, the blast
from whose tin horns filled the street
from dawn until sunset. Was such a
life worth anything ? and she oould not
rid herself of it for an hour, for her
clothes were not fit to wear where people
were well dressed; and she would not be
seen by her old friends now.”
. Bo she sobbed. And Jack’s hand
smoothed her fair hair, and his lips
touched her cheek, and by-Mtd-bye he
whispered:
•‘I wish I had never met you, last; or
I wish I’d drifted by without a signal;
for, d’ye see this is all my fault; and
you’d be safe in harbor now if you hadn’t
sailed out of it with me. Only I couldn’t
foresee the future, lass; and I thought
to make yon a captain’s wife; by-snd-bye
an owner’s lady. It would have been
better for yon if Jem and Bill had made
a meal of me, I’ve oome to think. Rid
of me, your father wonld take you home;
well—it may happen yet”
I And then Bell put her arms about his
neck and whispered that she did not re
gret her love for him.
Bnt struggle as she might with it, the
words that had been said of her folly
« onld recur to her mind, and she knew
that she did regret something. It was
hard to help it.
Jack knew it also. He ate his humble
supper sadly, and went-out again. His
day's work was over, but he wanted to
be alone..
— He limped down to the shore where it
was lonely, and washed the highest by
the sobbing waves, and stood looking
out.
—“I meant to make her a captain’s
lady,” he mattered.
“>I meant to show the old hunks
ashore that she should have everything
he could hove given her.
“There’s a house with a sea-view, sud
s lookout top, that I meant to buy; and
for rigging, why no lady iu the land
should have been spruoer. No woude,
she frets, soiling her white hands with
dirty work, and going shabby, too.
What right had I to turn pirate, and tow
her away from her moorings, and the®
make shipwreck of her f Yes, it wonld
be better to be down below, among the
wrecks—a'great deal better. She must
think me an enemy; I’ve only done her
harm; I who love her better than my
Ufa.", '
Then he looked sea ward again moodily.
A terrible storm was coming; his sailor
eye saw that without a doubt. / Ha Mt
it in the air; heard it in all sounds; and
the leaden foaming of the distant Vavea,
the black meeting of the sea and sky,
made it manifest to anyone.
A ship had been wrecked the day be-
ore, and her wreck was lying beyond
he harbor bar. Jade fell to thinking of
her.
“Shell go to piacea to-night,” he
said. “The storm will make an end of
her,” and he thought of the ship as of
s sensate human being whoae troubles
were nearly ended, with a kind of envy,
too. If he should live until BeU hated
him how oould he bear it ? His earthly
hopes had gems. The ideal ship to be
named the BeU Marble would never be
his, and he must limp painfully through
the world to Ma life’s end now. But he
oould beer that if ha oould only keep
Bell's heart Could he without money ?
He put his curly head down on kb
bronaed hands, and, prayed a strange,
innocent, rfmpie prayer:
“Pleaae to give me money enough to
keep my wile’s love, nod forgive me if
1 am wrong, tor Fm only a poor sailor
adrift without a compass, and not
Lapkin, and don’t know.”
Pdrhapa hie theology waa at fault;
but hn had heard that he must pray for
what he nesdsd, and he tried the advice
practically.
After that he stood up, and looking
along the beaak saw further on an ex
cited group, and went to join them.
SaUoa,- boatmen, a spruce captain in
his mhore ekrthea, an idle women or
two, tome children, and a gentlem
who had nothing seafaring in hbappai
anca, and wora hb am in a etthg. Tk
gentleman waa talking.
“A thousand dollars for the man who
bfk tha pretty brmp them. Is no man anxious to
make money so easily? Two hoots'
week. I’d do it myself if I had not
apmhied my am. I saw the wreck
from the light-house. There will be no
difficulty, and she will go to pieces be
fore morning. A thousand dollars!
There’s an offer for these men, Onptsin
rlor.” ^ .
ly men are fond of their lives,”
■aid the captain. “Look at the sea sud
the sky. I should like to help you to
your casket, but I can’t advise these men
to go. It would be murder. ”
“Pshaw 1 The fellows at our college
would have done it for fun.”
“A sailor wonld not," said the captain.
“If the ship lives through tlie night,
there’s s chance.”
“Bat can she?” asked the stranger.
“I think not," said the captain,-- ^
“Good heavens! think of it!’’ cried
the man. “The fruits of five years'
labor in Europe are in find casket. I’ve
toiled with brain and l>ody. I’m mined
if it is lost. There are men who would
do it for a trifle. Yon bear my nfh-i, nil
of you. Bring that casket before sun
set, and I’ll give you more,”
Theu a brown ^band touched his am,
and a voice hnsky with emotion said:
“I’m your man, on oho condition.”
The gentleman turned.
“One who is not a coward,” he said.
“There ain’t a coward here,” said
Jack. “I know the danger as well os
they, bnt promise me one thing.
Promise me before these people, so that
you must hold to it. The money you
will give iqe if I get ashore again ?”
"The money I have promised will l»e
paid at once,” said the gentleman.
“Hear me out, please," said Jack.
That money, if I die out there, you’ll
pay to my wife. Swear that, and I’m
ready.”
“Jack," cried the captain, “it is sheer
madness.”
Jack smiled ; a strange, heart-broken
smile enough.
"I’U try it," he said, "on that condi
tion,”
The gentleman had torn a leaf from
hb pocket-book, and wrote upon it
hastily.
This secures s thousand dollars to
yoar wife,” he said, “Yonr name ?”
"Jock Marble,” said the sailor.
“To Jack Marble's wife,’’said the man.
“No danger, tbongh ; as I said before,
our college buys would have made sport
of it. 'Horry, my man ; hurry."
Jack glanced over the papers.
“Keep it for me, Captain Taylor,” he
said. “I’m ready now. sir.”
Then he went to unmoor hb boat*ond
make her ready. ♦
Afterward, os he dropped the oars in
the water, and pulled from shore, he
looked, back and said in s whbper, blown
Jock had not brought tha casket, and
would receive nothing froflk 1m man
who had sent him forth. Bell arged
him with teem in her eyae Ip this.
“I wonld not have it, Jack,” she said.
“It b as though I eould have taken
urn—y hr ttla” —=
So with Jack’s health (he two re
turned to their old humbleJHa, They
warn never happier, Jock often said,
than in these days, though afterward
wealth cams to them; for Belfs father re
lented at death, and mads her hb heiress.
And’Jack’s great hope of Wfeg owner of
a splendid steamer come to post, al
though he made bnt one* or bro voyages
iu her, otter all, and those wftti Bell.
And people who knew bow rich they
were wondered sometimes tLbtOaptain
Marble's wife wonld not ba finer. Al
ways neat, she never decked herself as
many mmm did. She knew why, and
so did Jack, who tried to move hei
often, bat no one else, unlees my reader
guesses how those words which she had
spoken had haunted her on the night
through which she wept for Jack as one
dead.
How It Feels.
i)
Those of our readers who
scalped may like to compare
perience in thb matter with that of a
New York man who has recently returned
from the remote West, and lob hb bob
in s fight with the Indians, wMDs those
who have not enjoyed the privgego may
wish to know how the operatfM feels.
He says; “Imagine some eae who
hates you with the utmost Mtsnaity
grabbing a handful of your hbk while
you ore lying prostrate and helpless,
and giving it a sudden jerk upward with
force enough almost to loosen tha scalp;
then, while thb painful tenahm. b not
relaxed, imagine the not pobfeakrly
sharp blade of«e knife being nut quickly
around yoar scalp with a saw-Mke mo
tion. Then 1st yoor imaginattoa grasp
if it con the effect that a strong, quick
jerk on the tuft of hair to releaas the
scalp from dinging particles that may
still hold it in place would have on your
nervous and physical systems, sad you
will have some idea bow it feels to -be
scalped. When the Indian sawed hb
knife around the top of my
» senes of cold numbness
whole body. Thb was quickly
by a flash of pain that started at my
feet and ran like an electric shook to my
brain. That was but momentary, but it
terrible. When the Indian tore the
scalp from my head it seemed as if it
must have been connected with cords to
every part of my body. The pain that
followed the cutting sroand the scalp
from his lips as it passed them by the+^-b^ frightful, but ii wu emtocy
Bell.
Good-by,
“—. \ .•
darling.
fnrions gale ;
“Good-by,
Good-by." __
They watched him out of sight. The
little bark was a mere eggshell for the
storm to play with on£ such a night.
“He’ll never come liaok no more,
muster,” said a woman who stood near
the gentleman, and the faces of all about
them said the same.
An hour thence the tempest had bunt
over them, such as only one old woman
in all that sea-side place oould remem
ber having known before. And then (it
was fifty years or more since the day)
twenty dead bodies had been coat npon
(ho beach in the morning j dmdiea of
fishermen caught outside the harbor bar
by the storm.
There were sod hearts in the town—a
town filled with sea-going folk, nearly
every honsehpld of which had some dear
one afloat on the ocean. Bnt every
woman there had a thought to spare
from her own sorrows for poor Jack
Marble and the young wife who wept for
him.
She had been proud and held herself
above them; bnt they forgot that when
they saw her cost* down npon the sand in
the gray dawn, all her golden hair about
her face. She had heard the story of
her husband's compact with the stran
ger, and knew why he had been so ready
to barier his life for gold
Knew os none there knew that he had
no hope of ever eoaung back.
Touch that money—not she—never,
though the starved. Nor would she go
book to bar luxurious home, where,
doubtless, now she would be welcomed
There she would die, and they should
bury her in the sea, to float away and
find Jack. All the world was nothing
without Mm; nothing, she knew that.
Life was worthless without Jock. And
no one gave her any hope. No one
dared.
‘ The wreck had vanished. Bits of her
came in with the tide. Boon it might
bring that whieb had bean Jack to her
feet. All day she watched for It with
maddening eyes, with a horrible scab
rending hope and fear mingling in her
omul. But the sea brought only in the
dusk a little boei. One old man in rad
•annel, with a tarpaulin upon hia head,
at the can. A stranger who earn# up to
the men on the beech, and
thing to them something that set them
all a shouting, screaming, cheering, ut-
Jaek Marble's bum with odd
and sobs; and before they told her
Bell knew that her hmfaand had
by wave and wind to an infant’s
nem, and she bent over Mm, bar Bps to
his, sod words were spoken then that
bound their hearts more firmly than they
•ter had been bound before,. „
..r*' %
JOHNNY JONES.
(KTORTORIAL KRTEBWMt.
IMFKMOMMKNT
KHVIIK.
lath Ttrurt tells the following
■toryThere need to be considerable
lumber banners done on
Bay, and there lived a noted
on the bay shore, named—say Johnny
Jones, who was noted for the handy way
in which ha could make a rhyme. He
used to ■teal kgs from a oertain man,
who was Justice of tha tooe, and cut
he was convicted, and boil
wanted for his appearance at a
higher court, bnt ha canids’! get it, so
he appealed to the Jasttee to go hia bail.
“If you will make ms a rhyme I will,”
■aid the Justice. He agreed tot hot said
he must make it from hie boat. So he
got into the Imat and took np his
paddle.
“Now, Johnny, for the rhyme,” said
the Justice, who was afraid he might
deceive him. But Johnny was true to
his promise and gave Mm this one: “As
true as I am in this boat, and you are
on the shore, I have stole forty logs
from yoa sad IB stool forty more,” and
he want They need to deet
at a town meeting,
Well, (hay
Tfee Aastetr a
lb* PelW.
The London Rehu newspaper was ia
a London poHoe court aa an intonated
party to one of the moat ludicrous cooes
which ever oouvntaad a court. The de-
fendant was arranged upon ttan nhaigme.
The first aeonoed him of being a “va
grant, without visible
and the eteond alleged^ that
fhod toaae to snspeet that ha waa alaoa
“suspicious character, "perhaps a
et dynamite oonapimfle
aolntoly refused do give
arrested him any
himself and had destined to
noma. When the Court demanded to
know tha latter the prieoner said it
“Hugh MacLaaghlin,” end
upon being addressed as “Mister, be
cause he was a real gentleman.” The
grave sincerity with which this claim
was put forth by the ragged and be
grimed onfortunaie made the eeurt rear,
and the police significantly alluded to
the • Trisha am of the name.”
The testimony against the prioooet
was that he had been detected prowling
about Hanover square and placed under
“shadow.” When he Amt attracted
pottee attention he waa diognioed as a
match peddler, in which character ha had
scoured so trance to many of the artato-
. , . ..J erotic residences of that neighborhood.
,t — to .rnpomd to
THE HUMOKOCS PAPEH&
«rmA* mu
_—_——=' : - a saow-aau.
“Oh, the mow, the toauttfal mow,
(But the not of thb beautiful
know.)
1 Tlu the sttaf that Iks mu* bay 1
a qibm,
(lbs mow, sot “poms"), sod
four
The unfortuoata sMuthat hops to to 1
Tha the msl^boy who bolds it Is j
At bis baek, a* he paw, the I
- oil cay Utoarfl,
compared with the tortare that followed
the tearing of it from my head. Streaks
of pain shot to every nerve. My knees
were drawn up almost to my chin, and
my fingers dosed convulsively together
in the snow, and tha was all that I re
membered.”
“The Air
He waa mate of a vessel commanded
by a N An tucket skipper, returning from
a long cruise. They had got aa far aa
the “South shoal," when the-mate went
aft and reported that the provisions
were entirely out. “It can’t be,” ah-
swered the skipper. “How can tha
1)6?” '\l do’no, but it’s a fact.” V'Have
you examined alK the casks?” “Yea,
sir.” “Can’t the cook scrape something
out of the bread barge?” (a box the
sailors’ hard bread is kept in). “He’s
scraped it all out long ago.” The crew
grew clamorous, and the “old man”
called them aft to take “pot lack” with
him on the quarter deck. In wonder
they went to see what was coming.
“Now, boys," said the skipper, pointing
to where Nantucket lay, and from which
quarter a fresh breeae waa blearing,
“now, lads, I will trea you to something
delicious I Open yoar mouths wide!”
They did so. “Now, men, fill your
mouths and stomachs with this beautiful
air pudding!” The socnewms so ludi
crous tha it kept their spirits up until
they obtained succor and a fair wind
carried them into port.
they aloe acted aa fence viewers,
elected a fellow named
old Johnny didn’t like.
AA aba® as they voted Johnny got np
and got off Mm following ; “It appears
very strange to my weak brains, tha
bsm atamild hepnasaased, to pass a vote
to sImqm a sheet to govern all the rest.”
A jmimm a Bowdoin, it ta said, gave
hiss a suit of clothes for (ha rhyme.
1 Johnny picked np a canoe ooe day ou
the bay and pat it in his boom. A man
named Hunter, of Topsham, heard of the
find and declared he was going down to
get the canoe, although it was not hia,
Johnny beard of it and waa on the look
out for the enemy’s approach. It was
on a bright moonlight night that Hnnter
started to fulfill hia oath. He unlocked
the bom® and proceeded to the canoe
and stepped into it. Just a that moment
Johsmj stepped oat from some birches
tha greta by the shore, gun in h.*d,
sail spoke ss follows : “If yea get that
i’ll pawn my hat I’ll stand not to dis
pute you. I hsve got both powder and
good shot, and I swear by god I’ll shoot
yon.” The canoe was not taken.
Aa OM Mferjr Revived.
The Broad Arrow, an English paper,
reviews the following story which has
been told of many soldiers and national
ities. It says: “Who is the hero of the
following true story ? A mild but zeal
ous disciplinarian was briskly passing a
sentinel on his way to Ms official res
idence, when he turned npon the stal
wart gaurdian and demanded the reason
why he did not challenge him. In vain
the sentry declared tha he knew him to
be the ; he was emphatically told Ms
duty was to challenge every one who
approached him, and, warming with ex
citement, the gallant officer exclaimed,
‘Challenge all, challenge me, Or]
‘Well, then,’ sad the sturdy pupil, low'
ering his rifle and bringing it to the
charge, T do challenge you. Give the-
countersign, sir!’ and the hasty superior,
having in the course of his practical in
struction allowed the word to slip Ms
memory, was forthwith made a prisoner
and driven into the sentry-box. So sit
uated, the worthy preceptor was soon
granted another opportunity of estimat
ing the effects of his teaching. A police
man, passing, demanded why the sen
tinel had imprisoned the gentleman.
'You foolish fellow,’ said he, 'why, it is
the 1* But the only reply from the
sentry, was the vociferous demand,
‘Give the countersign!’ The police
man, deeming his uniform to be a suffi-
cient authority for passing the sentry
had also forgotten to learn the word,
and he too was ordered into the sentry-
box, from which he and Ms distinguished
fellow prisoner were rescued only when
the sentry was relieved.”
1ST A MW TOM aocDoia.
“No, indeed, nothing eould I
to live in
“Nor
town just!
“Yes,
s*k questions about
“That is jMt what I Httoabout it.’
“No one aakfl such impudent qn wttous
in New York.”
“No, hMtoed; if they did some one
might ask who their giuudfsthei 1
Reemkmg Call.
mente under several other dtagutaas and
was finally arrested while tramping
around collecting tribute aa s troubadour
with a good voice and a very bad bus jo.
a sxoiurr MISSION.
The prieoner listened to the testimony
with mingled cons terns tion and despair,
but made no defence. He, however,
pleaded, with choice and eloquent rhet
oric, against being committed, but the
contrast between hie acoompUshmeota
and the rMxprejodioed Me esse. Final
ly, iq dtoperafkm, the tramp admitted
that be had been engaged in a secret
mission j but claimed that he eould prove
his respectability by persona in the office
of the Evening Mho. Sure of their
game now, the detectives lost no time to
procuring the attendance of the chief
editor of the AW*o. He failed at first to
recognize the prisoner, but after a more
nsrvfot sera tiny exclaimed. "Wh^,
Mae I is that you?” and satisfied tbs
Jndgethat the prisoner was no other
then Mr. MscLaagMto, of the /fcAo
staff, one of the best known of London
journalists. He had been almeut from
the office for several days engaged in the
task of gathering data concerning the
profits of London beggars, and,
to his superiors, hod chosen to aecurt a
standard by playing the beggar himself.
After a hearty laugh around “Mac” was
liberated. ___
IT MARS A DIFVBMXUK.
“So yon have been fighting again on
your way home from school 1”
“Y-yea, sir.”
“Didn’t I tell you that this sort of
business had got to stop?” ..
“Yes, pa, but—”
“No exeusca. sir! You probably pro
voked the qnarrel 1”
MATTSK. ■* * ‘ ■
Customer—“Those shoes you osM flat
ore frauds.”
Shoemaker—"You moat be 1
They are aa gnodffl shoes sa 11
in my life. The leather in of
l**d, they are well mode and a
lent fit."
Customer -“Yes; I admit AH that.’
Shoemaker—“Then who* is tha amt
ter?"
Customer—“Why, you osa, they seas
five-dollar shoe bnt they have a two flni
lar and-a-half squeak. ”-/»*««. JfWp
(ta//. -
“Oh, no! no! He colled me namesT" J«i And the Major must work
talk Isas.”—Austin Sifting*.
Agrfcultare iu Great Art tala
The agricultural changes iu Great
Britain continued to be of a marked
character. The area devoted to grain
crops the past year was 8,618,(175 acres,
which is 214,705 acres lest than to 1882.
Potatoes were planted cm 548,000 acres,
and turnips and swedes 00 2,029,000
seres—all showing a slight increase; but
mangolds, retches and other green crops
have declined by 21,000 acres 00 the fig-
urea for the previous year. Clover and
other grasses show aa increase of 68,-
500 acres. The change from tilth to
permanent pasturage ia again conspicu
ous, there being 15,066,800 acres sa com
pared with 14,821,600 tost year. Tan
years ago grass covered 13,000,000 orres,
while arable land has fallen during that
period freu 18,186,000 to 17,819,000
acres. Orchards mo ou the
end also market gardening,
tar of live stock there la
which leads to th
of Meant vemn wil] he
He Csrreeted Himself.
“I notice in a paper that it ia no longer
fashionable for (be minister to Mm the
bride at the wedding ceremony,” said a
wife to her husband, who was a clergy-
Tbn boon ia conoiderad a full day a
work, and yet some young men act as if
a giii could be courted sixteen hours
without being tired.
“Yes," sadly responded the good man
with a long-drawn sigh ; “many of the
plessant featurea connected with the old-
iashioned wedding ceremony have been
discarded, and—”
“What’s that?” demanded Ms wife
ominously. J
“I—I mean,” he stammered, “that
the asneelem custom of k taring the bride
should have been abolished long ago.”
“Oh I” replied the mollified lady, re
suming her paper. — Philadelphia
fii'ening Cull.
Wit,, win BaXMAC,
who came to Amerii
the express purpose of doing what poor
Webb lost hia life in iltzmpttag, and
who, attar vtatttng Niagara, wisely went
assay, la now said to have onnonneedhia
purpose to swim the whirlpool rapids to
the spring. The French diver m taflof
confidence; bui m-be hoe obtained a safe
occupation to the leather hnatomfl, he
wonld do well to stick to It. He will
“Nrines ? Whst of it ? When • boy
calls yon names walk along shout your
business. Take off that cost!"
“Bnt he didn’t call me names I”
“Oh, he didn’t ? Take off that vest!’
“When be called me names I never
looked at him, bnt when he pitched into
you I-I had to fight r
“What 1 Did he coll me names ?”
“Lots of 'em, father! Ho said you
lied to your constituents, and went back
on the caucus and had— !”
“William, put ou yoar coat end vest,
and hole's a nickel to buy peanuts! I
don’t want yon to oome up a slogger,
and I wish yon to stand well with yonr
teacher, hut if you can lick that boy who
says I ever bolted a regular nomination
or went book on my end of the word,
don’t be afraid to sail to 1”—Detroit
Free Fret.
Struck (ML
It was a Woodward avenue dor. A
lad/ richly dressed sat in a corner of the
<w and said to some one with her:
'I smell kerosene oil.”
“So do L” answered her friend.
One after another got into the oar, and
the lady in the corner sniffed suopsrions-
ly, and at last fixed her cyea upon a quiet
looking little man near (he door.
“I believe he’s got the oil,’’she
iu e stage whisper to her friend.
“I know it,” replied the friend.
“There ought to be a tow against carry
tog keroaene oil in the street ears. Such
sn odor r end she glared at the little
man.
“I shall inform the superintendent,
•aid the first tody, aloud.
— “I shall inform the president of the
road,” said her friend, with a fixed and
glossy stare.
“Ladiea,” said the little men, cheer
fully, “hadn’tyou better move!- The
kerosene from that lamp to the corner
of the eafl has been dripping down on
ye ever since we started, bnt serin’ ye
both knew so much I thought I wouldn’t
■ay nything."—Detroit Free Prate.
“flew shall
ThtotoadW
cult qnsetine to anew*
beat plan would be to petrify
•ril them tor cigar-store stone. This
MB WAS OmWOBSBD.
“Ho you have left your situation F’
"Yea; gave it np tost week.”
“What’s the matter ? Can’t yon got
•long pleeaeutly with the boas?”
“Oh, yea; wu got along plineefltty
enough; but he expected me to do too
much. I had to open the store at 6
o'clock every morning, sweep out, weak
the windows, keep the stoc|| in onflta^
sod finally whet does be do tapl pu^nfl
advertieument in the newspaper,
settled it. I am willing to work
but I won’t kill myself for any an
Philatlelphia Cult.
wmrr point
on
OBADCATSa
octal.
Gol Play Poker (who ta to for dapH-
eating hia pay accounts)—“Horrible 1 It
will destroy all diaripliae to the ansy.
Sergeant Mason has bean pardoned by
the President.”
Major Love tody (wfaoto ja for bigamy)
—“Is it possible that the Ptarifcut has
iltted such aa outrage on as offi-
? Why, it to calculated to
our social statue as military ^
After this, 111 deny that I ever wore the
uniform of on officer of the United States
Amy.”
Private Snooks (on guard)—“Ootonel,
OPPOSED TO
“fee,- said the Widow Flapjack,
who ta chief executive officer of an Aus
tin boarding house, “yea, I must mj I
am very maeb opposed to prohMltou
sod dosing up the saloons, and all that
sort of thing. It’s all
against the beat tatemsto of
keepers and landlady*.”
“Why, I am surprised to hear yon sn-
press such imohrtattop ssnthnenta, and
Too a church member, too. How do
you make out that prohibition is against
(he interests of the tandtodtos f*
"If prohibition goes into effect ell the
saloons will be closed up and then all
the frae lunches will stop. Now, Fue
noticed that among my young man
1 murders the dissipated ones ora t&e
most profitable. Before they eonae to
dinner they always step into the saloon
and get a sour tmev or a schooner of
toddy, or something of that kind, end
they fill up on the free lunch, and When
they oome to the dinner table they don’t
oat hardly anything, while the riseffir
young men who never drink just gorge
themselves. Oh, my, yon ought to see
’em eat! They just take 1
and if it was'ttt for the I
the ‘next moaning' feeling
of the boarders suffer from
I don’t know wbet we poor
would do. Thete’d be no profit In the
business. Yes, I
hibitiou for purely 1
And the Widow
went out and gave orders to <
into seven pieeee inatcefiUf
Siftinu*. *
m
.. . _ < ~ V,-
V