Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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t 3? > fe THE DARLINGTON HERALD. VOL. IV. DARLINGTON, S. C., FRIDAY, AUGUSTS, 1894. NO. 35. jL SOSO OF HOPE. Nerer mind about the weather, M It halk, or If It enowi; Never mind about the weather, If the world haa one eweet rove 1 Never mind about the weather, pray your prayer and sing your song; Boon the ehipe will sail together—eight the harbor UghU ere long 1 Never mind about the weather, though the storm be eweeping far, Bhek of .all )here beams the rainbow and the splendor of a star I* Never mind about the weather, for the loneliest ship draws near— O’er the blackest of the billows, where the harbor lights shine clear. —[Atlanta Constitution. Canine's Lover. BY WILLIAM Q. LEE. At the head of a picturesque llttl® Valley high up among the foothills o f the Boston mountains, a turbulent little stream rushes abruptly and With boisterous conceit from a cav ern in the face of rocky, overhanging cliffs, bearing the befitting title of Boaring River. On the banks of this noisy boaster, out of reach of its threatening power, though still com manding an excellent view of its / mysterious source, I sat late in the afternoon of a sultry July day. Sati ated with the ceaseless whimsicalities of the stream and lulled by the silent surroundings and my comfortable seat t had relapsed into a meditative mood, from which I was suddenly aroused by the greeting, “How d’ye do!” in an easy, drawling tone. I turned toward the speaker, a man some thirty-two or thirty-three years old, tall and broad-shouldered, hol low chested, of loose build, with long, straight, yellow hair and ragged beard of reddish hue. 'll* was clad in coarse homespun cotton shirt and snuff- colored jean trousers. His feet were shod with coarse cowhide boots, the bottoms of his trousers legs caught up and held by the ear-llke straps of his heavy footgear. “Powerful warm,” he added, as he leaned a long, muzzle-loading rifle against my tree, and mopping the perspiration from his face with a red bandanna handkerchief worn loosely about his neck, he proceeded to let himself down the bank to the water’s edge, where, stretching full length upon a hnge flat rock just above the surface of the stream, and laying aside his broad-brimmed hat, he pro jected his lips until they met and dipped the water simultaneously with the end of his nose, and indulged in potations long and deep. “I reckon you’re the new school teacher,” he said after ho had re gained the top of the bank. I re plied in effect that I enjoyed that distinction/ “Wall now, I’m right glad to see you Mr. Wilkeson, ain’t it?” he inquired. “Wilkinson,” I responded; / , “W-l-l-k-l-n-s-o-n, Wilkinson. Do you live nefr here? ‘Ifas, down on the first clearing this side of Dr. Tyler’s plantation, jest at the foot of Hog’s Back. My name is Joslyn. Ike Joslyn every body calls me.” “I am very glad to have met you, Mr. Joslyn,” I^aid. “I wish to make the acquaintance of all the people in the district as fast as I find oppor tunity. Have you any children t I have none of your name on my roll ynt, though I am told that as soon as the season of cultivating the crops is past, there will be quite- an addi tion to the number of pupils now In attendance.” “Wall, yes,” he returned, “I’ve got four. They ain’t none of um old enough to go to school, though, but Hetty, and she has to take care of the rest. Jest as soon as I can git any one to take care of the house and children, I’m going to send Hetty to school. Hetty takes to lamin’.' She knows all her letters now,” he said with evident pride. “How many scholars have you got?” “About thirty.” - “I s’pose Nate Watson’s children got” looking at me inquiringly. “Yes, ”p answered, “I have eight from there.” “Yhe school's a mighty good thing,” he continued presently. “ I wasn’t raised in this yers backwoods country, I came from Dike county, IHinoiz, and I believe in gettin’ an ejykaLhun. I never had much chance when I wuz a boy. I'd like to go to school now,” he added with increas ing earnestness. Ike’s earnestness Impressed me, nay inspired me, after the discour agements of my short experience as a public school teacb«r in the woods of Arkansas. Did not the Hon. Oba- dish Wellman,State senator,preacher, planter and shoemaker, learn to read and write after he had married and become the father of a family? And Andrew Johnson, at one time chief executive of this great nation, was he not taught by his wife, writing and arithmetic? I was late that night and supper was waiting for me. Betsy Ann’s jaws were working. The widow and ner twenty-flve-year’s-old daughter, Betsy Ann, seldom indulged in the extravagant habit of dipping snuff, but chewed plug tobacco of their own 'production and manufacture as a substitute. Whatever the cause, all sign of Betsy Ann’s disturbed equili brium disappeared when,- seated at the supper table, I rehearsed my in terview with Ike Joslyn. “Jest like him,” said the widow. “He’s a terrible vacillating sort o’ man. Those Pike county fellars are never no account. “He’s got a nice piece of bottom land, but he’s too lazy to fence it in and clear It up, and he keeps on crap ping that upland, and it's so poor that it won’t scarcely raise sassafras now. He ain’t got inore’n three acres In hi* clearin' fthyh«w. H "Pretty hear- four,” say* Betsy Ann. “Did Ike Hy nnj'tiilHjf abdtU. PD tree ted tneetln' ? ” said (he widow at breakfast table the following morning. I looked up inquiringly and she con* tinned) “It’S about tinio they had it, most everybody’s got iheir craps laid by and If they wait too long, first pinkin’ll come on,” “Deacon Brown said lust Sunday he thought they’d have it about a Monday,” said Betey Ann. The next day, Sunday, the sun shone brightly and fervently. In tho afternoon Jim and I made a hunting expedition. Late In the day, weary and warm and laden with wood ticks, we emerged into a clearing and were n ted with the regulation hubbub logs. Recognizing the home of Nate Watson, we stopped to quench our thirst and rest our weary legs. Mr. Watson’s family consisted of four children by his first wife, Mrs. Watson’s five children by a former husband, and three children, fruit of the present alliance. On this occa sion the children wore all, except Caroline and the two younger, It} the corn and cotton fields. Caroline was helping her Moth$» about the kitchen, a small d-uUChed building about a rod from the main house. Mr. Watson, a tall, powerfully built man, clad in the regulation coarse homespun cotton shirt and jean trowsere, minus shoes and stockings, sat on the porch just putting the finishing touches to his rifle, which he had evidently been cleaning. Ike Joslyn lounged beside him. Upon my asking for water, Nate called: “Car’line, bring the gen’ie- men some water.” A moment later I caught a glimpse of a female figure in calico gown and sunbounet disappear by n path from the house, into a thicket of second growth pines and sassafras, and di rectly after emerge, coming toward us carrying * wooden bucket. When she reached the porch and deposited the brimming pail of spring water with drinking gourd, qjthough she never raised her eyes, which were deeply hidden in the great homely sunbonnet, but turned immediately and retraced her steps to the kitchen, I saw a pretty sun-browned hand, two small, perfectly-shaped bare feet, and juet the merest glimpse of a dainty little chin beneath a eweet, tender mouth that I knew belonged to a girl in her teens. “Why should she hide her eyes In that ugly sunbonnet?” I thought, for she must have pretty eyes. I was conscious that Ike’s gaze followed her intently as long as she was in sight, though neither of them spoke. The Sabbath day, though hotter than ever, found the old log church with no suggestion] of loneliness. A large congregation had assembled. The interior was hlled to the very doorways, and listeners with uncov ered heads stood outside at the win dows. A few colored people stood in respectful altitude just outside of the doors', to catch the utterances of the speaker, sometimes loud and vehe ment rising to a frenzied pitch, and again descending in low solemn tones to a whisper, succeeded by a pause of awful and threatening silence. In closing the preacher announced that the protracted meetings would com mence on the morrow, to continue for the remainder of tho week, and the week following, if tho interest already manifested did not abate. One after another the days of re vival passed. Every day I opened my school, then dismissed my pupils and as in duty bound attended the meetings. At last the great revival was over. Another Monday morning had come and the world seemed bright and beautiful as I walked briskly along the forest road toward the old log church to resume again my school duties without interruption. In all mjr thoughts of the work again about to commence, the face of Caroline was vividly prominent. And as I drew nearer the old log church all else 'seemed to retreat into the background and fade entirely from my thoughts. I should learn to know and understand her now os no other could, as I assisted and guided her innocent mind in the pursuit of knowledge. Ferhapa as I corrected her copy or assisted her in the knotty problems of written arithmetic I might accidentally touch the pretty hand or the soft, wavy hair. “Look a yere! where’s that yellar- haired, white-livered, sneakin’ Pike county horse thief gone with my g»l?” A mighty grip seized my shoulder as in an iron vise, and wrenching mo rudely from my blissful dreams, twisted me around until I faeed the angry, murderous gaze of Nate Wat' son. He had overtaken .,ie coining from the trees to the left of the trail, and had thus savagely seized me be fore I was aware of his presence. We were standing on the bank of Roaring river by the tree where I had first seen Ike Joslyn. “What do you mean, Mr.Watson?” I replied in a surprisingly calm voice, considering my state of mind. “Where’s Ike Joslyn gone with Car’line?” he demanded. “Ike Joslyn with Caroline!” I re peated with such evident astonish ment and dismay that he relaxed his hold and his hand fell heavily to hts fide. “Didn't you know the dirty kioty’ had ’loped with CarTine?” ho asked almost plaintively. “Eloped with Caroline I” I could only repeat in my dazed surprise. And then as the true meaning of his words gradually dawned upon my confused intellect, a most painful dread seized me. Eloped t I hud only thought In a bewildered sort of way of his kidnapping her. " Yes, they went to Devil's Gap hhd Were fMrfied list night, and no body kiiowS. .Which way they went frorii there;” lib said: “ Walter Simm* jest bithitt irtmi tho Gap and says Parson Jeffries told him they rode up to his place on Ike’s old grey mare about nine o’clock last night and he married ’em; I ’lowed you helped him work up his deviltry lie was so Interested in school and you took sich blamed lot o’ stock in him, Urging him to go. I'll kill him oh sight if bid BcsS don't fail me,” lie added, as he raised the famous rifle to his shoulder and sighted across its barrel at an Imaginary Ike Joslyn. We Walked toward the church, Nate giving VSbt to his angry denun ciations of Ike, and I explaining how far my suspicions were even of such a plot, and expressing my sympathy as best I could, all rather mechanic ally, for I had experienced such a re vulsion of feeling, on tho sudden awakening from my bright and happy dreams, that I was in a state of mental collapse and unfit to play the part of sympathetic sago. “Great heavens!” I thought, “that sweet- faced, gentle child passively follow ing that lout to be made his wife!” Tho day, as all days must, wore away at lust. The happy anticipa tions born in the bright, beautiful morning were never realized. Tho exercises were painfully tedious. The pupils, during Intermissions, were gathered in excited little knots, dis cussing the last sensation. I was glad to get through wilh it all and go back to my boarding place. It is curious how the heart rebels at times against the strongest array of facts. My faith In Caroline Was stronger than the most damaging evidence that could be brought against her. By the time I had reached my boarding- place I was persuaded that Caroline was the helpless victim of the villain Ike. That she was his mesmerij in fluence, being either drugged o’ hyp notized, and had allowed herself to be wedded to him while not responsible for her actions. “Merciful heavens!” I thought, “what must be her mental torture when she regains her right mind.” About dinner time Jim put in an appearance. “Hello!” ho cried, when he caught sight of me, "Ike’s come back.” I nearly fell off the rail fence, whore I had perched myself with a hatful of peaches, In the desperate effort to arouse myself from my miserable broodings. Ho could not have stunned me more completely with a sand bag. "Here’s a tragedy now surely,” I thought. "Won’t any one put Ike on his guard?” Jim again disappeared immediately after dinner. Tho afternoon found me in a worse state of mind than in the morning. “What could I do to avert this certain calamity?” was the burden Of my thoughts. "Hello, Mr. Wilkinson, won’t you go to the shivaree (charivari)?” cried Jim; “we’re gohT to shivaree Ikeand CarTine.” So absorbed was I with my miser able forebodings that I did not see Jim until lie thus aroused me. “Good gracious!” said I, “ho isn’t going to stay to bo murdered, is he?” “No,” said Jim, evidently aston ished at my state of mind; "we’re goin’ to make a powerful lot of noise though. It might kill him. if ho hadn't been married before.” "But, Nate?” I exclaimed, in a tone of anxious inquiry. “Oh, Nate’s got cooled off, so I reckon he’ll know enough to lO'jk out for his own neck.” By the time that Jim was ready to start, I had decided to go with him, fearing Nate, on learning wiiat was going on, might work himself into a passion. At the old log church we found a crowd of men and boys with horns, cow bells, guns and every conceivable instrument for producing discordant, terrifying and torturing noises. The motley company, some on foot and some on horseback, presented a weird and mysterious appearance in the gathering gloom, and reminded mo unpleasantly of the stories of the Ku-Klux, so familiar to one’s ears in the early days succeeding the war of tho Rebellion. As we left the clear ing about the church tho dark ness of the forest became intense, and the prvailing heavy silence, but for the steady tramp of men and horses, and the occasional snap ping of a twig, seemed to fill my very soul with a most portentous foreboding. After a time the heavy darkness, enshrouded and pressing down upon us like a suffocating pall, seemed to lift a little, and the thick darkness was succeeded by a com parative light. The dim outlines ol those who were ahead loomed up In the gray gloom now surrounding ns with exaggerated proportions. We were approaching Ike’s clearing. Cautiously and silently we advanced toward the cabin whose dim outlines we now discerned. The old log house was dark and silent as the grave. I could not enter Into sympathy with the rest of the crowd. A presentiment or intuition of impending evil seized me. Not a dog barked. No sign of life seemed to exist about tho place. Suddenly, at a signal from the leader, the most unearthly, hideous noise filled the air and re-echoed far into the forest, seeming to my over wrought imagination to possess the very universe. Just as I began to wonder if I had really met the eternal doom of tho unconverted through some imperfec tion of creed, a door suddenly opefted, a flood of light poured fortli and tho noise ceased. “Como in, boys,” Iko’s fjood- natured voice exclaimed, a* ho slouched Into the doorway, 'They &$r§ jtfepured for us. The dogs were still whining trM fright. Inside, where they had been eecured lot toe occasion. As I entered, I beheld Nate In the foreground ieate’d 111 a high-backed jirmchaif, th* seat fif hofiot accorded the faV’drfed gufest; Hbldifig a ?GUng Joslyn on each KfitJff, tn# j-oiini* step mother standing modestly behind him, blushing and happy.—[Orange Judd Farmer. OFFICIAL ETtaUCTTB. Peeper Way to Address the Country's Digflltariod. The United States is the Ofliy na tion on earth without a fixed official etiquette. At ever/- other capital from Pekin to Buenos Ayres there is Ml official of the government whose duty it is to see thaisociaf form* and precedents are adhered to and to give information to strangers on tho sub ject when they apply for it There is no such person in Washington. Peo ple who want Information of this kind go to Mr, E. I. Renick, the brilliant young Georgian, the Chief clerk of the State department, or to the superintendent of pnblic build ings and grounds, who acts in the place of a master of ceremonies at the White House, The dean of the diplomatic corps is appealed to by new ministers when they come here, and he tells them what they are ex pected to do. This fact creates no little confusion and is frequently the cause of much annoyance to well meaning people whose desire always is to do "the correct thing.” The only precedent is custom, and usage, of course, is law in official affairs as it is in society, and what men have done men must do or be criticised for ignorance or Indifference to custom. If you desire to write to the presi dent of the United States, your let ters should be directed simply "To the President, Washington, D. C.” In conversation he should be ad dressed as Mr. President. He should never be called or written to as “His Excellency.” A similar rule applies to the vice-president. Members of the cabinet should be addressed iu conversation as “ Mr. Secretary,” “Mr. Attorney-General,” or “Mr. Postmaster-General.” In writing to a member of the cabinet, the letter should be addressed to “The Honorable, thq Secretary of State, Washington, D. C.,” or “The Honorable, the Attorney-General, Washington, D. C.” Itis the custom to also call the assistant secretaries in the various executive departments “Mr. Secretary,” the same as their chief. “To the Honorable, the Chief Justice of the United States, Wash ington, D. C.”, is the correct way to address that officer in writing; and in conversation, “Mr. Chief Justice.” If you care to write to Judge Crisp, you should addiess his letter to “The Speaker of the House of Rep resentatives,” but if you are talk ing to him, you should say, Mr. Speaker. There is a great deal of freedom used In communication with mem bers of the congress, which is limited by the taste of the person involved or the familiarities of close acquaint ance. The proper way to accost a member of tho Senate is “Mr. Senator,” and in writing him ' 3 letter should bo addressed to “T.ie Honorable Patrick Walsh, United States Senate, Washington, D. C.” ff you know him pretty well, you can address the letter as “My Dear Sen ator,” but it is better to bo formal and say “Sir.” Members of tho House of Represen tatives are addressed thus: “The Honorable Henry G. Turner, House of Representatives, Washington. D. C.” ; but ordinarily in conversation, they should be called by their actual names, as “Mr. Cabaniss,” or "Mr. Maddox,” although nine out of ten of them have titles and are usually called "Governor,” or "General,” or “Judge.” The commonest and most frequent mistake made is to refer to the wife of a member of tho cabinet as “Mrs. Secretary Lament,” or to the wife of a member of tho senate as “Mrs. Senator Washburn.” That is exces sively [vulgar, as Mrs Lament is not a secretary nor is Mrs. Washburn a senator.—[Atlanta Journal. Russat Oranges. A little item in the New York Con fectioners’ Journal, in which golden russets and small dark russets are incidentally stated to bo the best keeping oranges, has called to our mind a very general experience which we have never seen referred to in print. We buy for our own table consumption russet oranges in pref erence to bright oranges, and yet in our official work we are in constant receipt of requests from orange grow ers for methods of destroying the rust mite. The hardening of the skin of the orange from the work of the rust mite undoubtedly keeps them juicy, improves them for ship ment, and retards decay. The selec tion of bright oranges was a fad among growers and wholesale buyers which did not last. The time has come when russet oranges for ship ment command higher prices and when remedial treatment for the rust mite is only necessary for a great excess of this Acarid. The change in public opinion in this matter shows that utility governs even sen timent.—[Insect Life. She (nestling up to him)—I know wo are poor, papa, but Charlie says that love will make a way. Her Father (grimly)—Yes, yes. It has made away with about eight tons of coal and I'jO worth of gas in Ihs Inst twelve months.—[Truth. THE JOKER’S BUDGET. » jeSfH AND YARNS BY FUNNY M£N OF THE PRESS. A Defence--And Ethel Blushed.* too Practical--Time To Build the Flrd A fitiFfcNCfi/ “So you are the man cflafged Bith counterfeiting?” “Falsely, judge, falsely.” “But you were found with a count erfeit fivo dollar bill in your posses sion;” "I know it. But ’twas a case o’ sentiment. EC fife dollar bill hap pened ter drif’ my way, ait’ mo an’ me partner went ter work an’ made a picter of It, jes fur a souvenir.”— [Washington Star. AND ETHEL BLUSHED. Tommy—Yes, cats call eee in the dark and so can Ethel; ’cause When Mr. Wright walked into tho parlor When she was sittin’ alone in the dark, I heard her say to him: “Why, Arthur, you didn’t get shaved to day.” TOO PRACTICAL. "No, Herbert,” she said in a low tone, "It is impossible. I fear to trust my future with you.” “And why?” “I have watched your conduct closely. It lacks tho mark of such devotion as my soul craves.” “Do I not come to see you four nights in the week?” "Yes. Bull have detected a cal culating selfiishness in your nature which 1 fear.” “What do you mean?” “You have never yet failed to leave in time to catch tho last car.” “But that's only common sense.” “I know it is, Herbert; and tliere- fore it is not love.”—[Washington Star. TIME TO BUILD THE FIRE. Mrs. Striker—Don’t you believe in the union of labor? Mr. S.—Of course I do. Why, my dear, if there were no union of labor, the greed of capital witli its iron heel would— Mrs. S. (interrupting)—Tliat’s all right; suppose you get up and build the fire, and I’ll cook the breakfast. —[Boston Journal. HER DESCRIPTION, She—You have met the beautiful. Miss X., have you nob? What do you think of her? He—She is one of that sort of wo man that any man could die for, but none could live with.—[Indianapolis Journal. HIGH BRED. ' “She seems to bo infatuated with her little dog.” “Yes; she says he is.-jMt heav enly.” “Heavenly I Then ho must be a skye terrier.”—[Now York Press. AN ALIBI. Mrs. Goodman—Johnny, is it true that you hit Bertie Knickerbocker in the eye? Johnny—No ma, I slugged tho duffer in tho ’ HOW SPITEFUL. First Lady—Do you know tho Ba ron to-day paid me the compliment of saying that I looked as young as a girl of eighteen? Second Ditto—Really? Then the report that tho Baron isgrowihg blind proves correct after all. FOR FUTURE REQUIREMENT. A. woman wont before tho judge and modestly inquired: “Your Honor, can I have a warrant for tho arrest of my husband? He boxed my cars yes terday.” Judge-'Certainly, ma’am, I will make out a warrant on the ground of assault and personal injuries. Woman—Can I fetch the warrant in about a month? Judge—In a month? Why don’t you take it at once? Woman—Please, your hpnor, when my husband slapped my face I took my rolling pin and hit him on the head so that lie had to he removed to tlie hospital. The doctors say, how ever, that lie will be on his legs again in a month.—[Life. mother’s darling. Suburban Boy—Mamma asked me what was my favorite flower, an’ w’en I told tier golden rod she said I was poetic. Wot docs that mean? Little Girl—I don’t know. Why do you like the golden rod? Suburban Boy—’Cause it grows without any bother.—[Good News. THE CORRECT THING TO DO. Keedick—Young Browne added the “ e ” to his name after he inherited his uncle’s big fortune. Fosdick—That’s quite right. Rich people are entitled to more ease than poor people. WELL KNOWN. “I want you to publish these poems in book-form,” said a seedy- lookingmantoaNew York publisher. Publisher—I’ll look over them, but I cannot promise to bring them out unless you have a well-known name. Poet—That’s all right. My name U known wherever the English language is spoken. “Ah, indeed! What is your name?” “John Smith.”—[Life. AT HIS DISTANCE. “Mr. Spoonoys,” she said, severely, edging over to the other end of the sofa, “I must ask you to keep your distance.” “So I si..d>, dear Miss Euphrasia,” said Mr. Spoonoys, edging over after ltt>r, "and my distance is about an ■ Inch and a half.”—[Chicago Record. THE COLONEL’S VICTOBT. Notwithstanding Col. Bangs is only a militia Colonel, and never had a title in his life until a year ago, he does not like to air his Colonelcy on all occasions, and for some time he has looked with disfavor upon the cards of his wife, which read, “Mrs. Col. Bangs.” The other day she told him to order her some cards. "Certainly, my dear,” he respond ed, for the Colonel is ns gallant to his wife as most men are to other women, "but if I do I shall have that •Colonel' omitted.” “Oh, no,” she protested; "what do you want that for?” “Because it shouldn’tbe there.” "Why not! It is only a designa tion of who I am, and you are Col. Bangs, aren’t you?” “Of course I am.” “Then why am I not Mrs. Col. Bangs?” The Colonel bowed. “For'the same reason, my dear,” he responded, “that when I was Mr. Bangs you were not Mrs. Mr. Bangs,” and the Colonel won a victory.—[De troit Free Press. A FAIR RETURN. "I wish It could be managed,” said the man who had been thinking deeply. “It would be a magnificently humane enterprise.” “What do you mean?” asked his wife. “I was just thinking that it would bo a great thing if tho explorers in polar regions would send down a re lief expedition for tho benefit of us people here.—[Washington Star. ON THE ALERT. Potter—Why didn’t you join us in our hunting trip? Blair—Well, I’m not much of a hunter, and I was afraid you might make game of me.—[Truth. • DISOBEYING FASHION’S DECREE. Fanny—Have you ever felt the pinch of poverty? Nanny—No. What is it like? Fanny—Wearingyour old silk dress with tho tight sleeves.—[Judge. THE BICYCLE STOOP. Bender—I have made the trip from New York to Philadelphia on a bicy cle, and have orders to write it up for a magazine. Wonder where I can get a good-horse? Friend—What on earth do you want with a horse? Bender—I must repeat the trip in a carriage, so as te get a '. idea of the scenAry, you know.—[New York Weekly. BUSINESS. Mabel-—Do you notice how atten tive Tam Terrapin is to that elderly Miss Grotox? I wonder if ho really means business. Maude—There is certainly little about her to lead one to suppose that he mean# anything else.—-[Brooklyn Life. MORE PRACTICAL SUGGESTION. The stately steamer ploughed its way through the blue waves of Lake Michigan. “Oh, Horace I” moaned tho young bride who a moment before had paced the deck with smiling face and lovelit eye, tho happiest of the happy. "I feel so queer I Let mo loan on your shoulder.” . “No, dearest, don’t do that!” ex claimed Horace hastily. “Lean over tho side of the steamer.”—[Chicago Tribune. AN IMPERFECT PARADISE. Hungry Higgins—How would you like to live in ore of them South Sea Islands, whore ail a feller lias to do to git his grub is to knock it off the trees with a club? Weary .Watkins—Say, won’t it fall off if lie will lay down under the tree and wait long enough?—[Indian apolis Journal. TAUGHT HIM HIS ERROR. His Mother—Johnny, always re member what I told you. When you see any little boy showing anger, take him aside and make him feel that he is wrong. Did you do so yesterday with naughty Tommy Tubbs? Johnny—Yes, indeed, I did. I punched him good, too.—[Chicago Record. Antiquity of th» Alphabet. According to Philippe Berger’s book entitled “Historio tie TEcritus dans 1’Antiquite,” the alphabet was invented about the year 1500 R. C., that invented by the Phoenicians being without doubt the oldest of all the forms of expressing thought or sounds by character. Originally it and all other alphabets were simply a series of hieroglyphics or picture- characters, the idea of an elephr.|it or an ox being expressed by r 'e sketches of such animals; abbrevia tions being in tho form of a pair of tusks, horns, etc. Professor Auer says that, taking both ti,e ancient and modern alphabets into account, as many as 400 different sots of char acters, hieroglyphics and letters may be enumerated; that these are all outgrowths of the Phoenician mode of mutely expressing thought or sound, and that if we should set aside slight variations of form, the grand total of 400 alphabets would dwindle immediately to less than fifty. The best oriental scholars have given it as their opinion that the original Phoenician alphabet was composed of but sixteen characters, yet it is known that it contained at least twenty-one and probably twen ty-two at the time when it was adopted by tho Greekf.. Why or by whom‘ these extra characters were invented, or wlty such an addition^ was necessary, has never been ex plained.—[St. Louis Republic. It is computed that the ICiiKlisit i»ti- t BYze is now spoken by fully 193,000,000 psopK {pULDBEH* COLUMN, TUX YIOLKTB AND TXT BPIDXm. jts Daisy walked serosa the lawn dhe saw a spider spinning silver yam. As she passed the fragrant violets They raised their heads and said t "Won’t you pluck us, little Daisy, ■ And wind os round your head? ’* As she stooped to pluck the flowei* The spider gave one bound , And sprang upon the violets, But she shook him to tho ground, And he quickly crept into his house All made of silver yarn. A STRIP Of BED GINGHAM. There was once an old gander wbo lived with an old woman in a little red house down the road. This gander had quite an affection for the old wo man, and she seemed equally fond of him. The old gander stayed near the honse most of tho day. When the weather was warm, the old woman thought that out-of-doors was good enough for the old gander to sleep, so he stayed out-of-doors and slept in a corner of the fence. But when the weather was cold, tho old gander marched boldly into tho house and took his place on the warm hearth, and the old woman was so tender-hearted she never could bear to tnrn him out. I regret to say that this old gander was a very inquisitive bird. He had peculiar notions. Perhaps it was be cause the old woman’s house was painted a bright red that the old gan der admired that color. It was cer tain that he was always attracted by anything red, and always stopped! to examine it. One day little Leslie and Edio Bright sat at the side of tho garden, near the road, making mild pies. Mrs, Bright did not know they were there, for a big lilac bush hid them from the; house. If Mrs. Bright had known: tho condition of Edie’s clean, red • gingham dress and Leslie’s linen trousers, I think she would have coma out and interrupted that baking. Just then the old woman’s old gander came walking down tho road. Through the fence he spied Edie’s red dress, and come up with loud sqnawljA to look at it. He stuck his heud be tween tho palings, took a good hold of the red dress, and begun to pull with all his might. “Oh!” screamed Edie. “It’s the old gander! He's trying to pull me through the fence! I shall be squozo to death i” Leslie seized a stick, and tried to beat off the gander, but the gander let go the red dress just long enough to give a squawk, which frightened Leslie oat of his small wits. “Run, Edie I” he cried. But Edie was not quick enough. The gander took another grip of tho red dresss no ir the edge. Poor Edie cried and screamed, and Leslie, too brave to desert her, tried to pull her away. “Dear, what shall wo dot” cried Edie. “Mammal” called Leslie. The old gander would have added to the noise, but his month was full of red gingham. He contented him self with a hard tug. In the struggle, a long strip of rod gingham came off. Edie, half-failing, half-dragged by Leslie, ran sobbing home. “Dear, dear, what terrible hubbub is this?” exclaimed mamma, at the door. “It’s the old woman’s old gander,” replied Leslie, his eyes big with alarm, “He ate op a big piece of Edio’s dress, and he wanted to eat Edie, too!” “WelL I declare !”cried Mrs.Bright, and Edie sortamed harder than ever. The only one that was satisfied was the old gander. He carried the strip of red gingham proudly home to hia sleeping-place in the corner of the fence, and he sat npon it every night all summer. The old woman wondered very much where that strip of red gingham came from, but the old gander never told his secret—Youth's Companion. Out, An old man who was sitting at a hotel table near the door, having gone leisurely through a bountiful dinner, decided to finish his repast with pie. So the pie was ordered, and in the coarse of time pie was brought “See here,” said the old man, as the waiter startel to move away, “you have not brought me any cheese.” “Beg pawdon, sir?” said the waiter, oouftcously. “I say I want some cheese.” '•'Cheese, sir?” »• "Yes, cheese.” . '•Sorry, sir, but the cheese is out” “So,” said the old man, raising his eyebrows? “When do you expect it back.”—Boston Budget