Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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■m VOL. IV. DARLINOTOM, S. C., FRIDAY, OCTOBDH 2^48^ 1 TEE TASK OF LIFE. It is not death bat life I fear 1 If all the other things were done, 'Twere not so hard at last to hear The summons of the sunset gun. But alUthe chance, the seeming fate, Dull and unconscious, hold ns back ; When I have conquered these, I’ll wait In patience for the last attack. •-IP. H. Savage,in Youth’s Companion. “S’REPTY.” BY JENNIE COLTON. ‘ The June sunshine poured gener ously in at the wide doors of the Merritt “great barn,” and the-large, cleanlyroom partitioned off for a car riage-house was full of the breath of summer. Opposite the door stood the family “surrey,” wearing the drapery pro vided for its hours of retirement, and in one corner was a lofty pile of sleighs, of various patterns and sizes. On the same side as the door- stood the gaunt frame of an old- fashioned hand-loom, and high in state before it was seated the mistress of the farm-house. Many happy solitary hours Mrs. Merritt spent there. She “loved to weave,” she said, in her gentle, meditative voice. But this love was not merely for the weaving. It was more for the pleasant sights and sounds of the summer weather, and for the kindly leisure of life’safternoon. The peace ful task belonged to summer as much as did the swaying of the daisies and the hum of the bees. In winter the loom stood neglected and forgotten, but in the late days of May, when the grass was already deep and green by the footbpath, and the apple-trees had shed their last lingering blos soms, the longing for the dreamy, delightful task would awaken, and Mrs. Merritt would bestir herself to set tp a "web." The old loom had come to her by inheritance, and she valued it as she treasured the ancestral homespun linen, and the family traditions which extended back even to the inevitable “three brothers that came over from England." • She had often told her daughters of the remote grandmother who, when the men of the family had inadvert ently carried off the pick of the house hold armament on an excursion to Ti- conderojfa ahdCrown Point, defended her home and babies with an axe. To such deeds the Merritt sisters felt themselves quite adequate, had need arisen, but they could see no reason why their mother should sit in the barn and weave rag-carpeting in the fact that the loom had been framed of oak timber cut when all the hill side beyond Boaring Brook was a wilderness. But it “mother” pleased, it was all right. And Miss Sarepta Toker even was welcome to bring her knitting-work and sit in the doorway, and tell who was dead, and who was married, from Roaring Brook to the Nepash. For Srrepta possessed married sisters and cousins in half the towns of the county, which gave her an immense advantage as a purveyor of news. She was a meagre little woman, who had never been credited with much alertness of mind or body. It added a little brightness to her existence even to look on from the outside at the life and stir, the coming and go ing at “the Merritt place.” And in the interval when “S’repty” sat and knitted, with her eyes shut to visible things, she was no more hindrance to the placid musings of Mrs. Merritt than would have been a cat, dozing in the sunshine. Back and forth moved the shuttle, then followed the dull stroke of the batten. (Occasionally the weaver would descend from her seat to turn the ratchet of the beam upon which the fabric was wound. “How nice you do beat up your weavin’ 1” exclaimed S’repty, rousing herself to admiration. “Mis’ Minks don't half do her’n, and Rosalia has said, time and ag’in, she would’t send any more rags to her', but then she’s kind’er sorry for her.” “It’s hard for her to struggle along,” said Mrs. Merritt. “If her children had lived, it would have been different.” “Your loom got kind o’ crowded out of the house, didn’t it?” said S’repty. “The old furnitoor has got to go. Reminds me of what Cousin Spencer Doolittle said when Square Lane fugled round an’ got him turned out of the gallery to the Baptis’ meetin’-house. He'd played the bass viol to lead the singin’ for forty years. ‘There ain’t no room left for the stable foundations of order,’ sez he. ‘Folks mus’ keep underminin’, an’ counterminin’, an’ improvin’,’ sez he.” “It was my notion having the loom set up out here,” said Mrs. Merritt, “ife says it’s my amusement for sum mer weather, that I have to have, just as the girls play croquet and tennis.” Another long, dreamy silence, ex cept for the shuttle that went on and on. There was a sound of wheels, and all semblance of slumber fled from Sarepta’s eyes as there appeared at the front gate a very shiny top- buggy. And when in a few moments a slender shadow fell across the door way, and Lois Merritt entered, no detail of her appearance was unob served. The girl was tall, like her mother, with the same large, serious cast of countenance. “What awful little bunnits they be a-wearin’t” said Sarepta, as if obeying an irresistible inner prompt ing. Lois received placidly this im- plied criticism of her new summer millinery, and her niolhef thought complacently: “Lois don't mind S’repty. Emma and Lucia ain’t so even-tempered. They’d have flared up.” It required but little Urging to in duce the visitor to stay until after tea. It had been one of the great treats of Hafepta’s childhood to gd home from school with Lucinda. “I don’t see mother,” said Emma Merritt, as with a sigh of relief She watched Sarepta's departing foot steps, “how you can like to have her come here so much. It’s just to see and hear, and then go and tell. And she doesn't miss anything that’s go ing on, for all that she keeps her eyes shut.” “There Isn’t any harm in S’repty,” said Mrs. Merritt. “I’ve always known her, and it kind ’o interests her to come here.” “She takes too much Interest lit my affairs,” persisted Emma. “And everywhere she goes she tells about ‘SI,’ and ‘Em,’_and ‘Luclndy,’ and so on as it we bclo'nged to her.” “Never mind Emma Jane,” replied her mother, “I guess there’s room enough in this world for you and S’repty, too.” “Oh, mother, mother I you’re too good. You make excuses for every body, and there’s nobody you’d re fuse to speak to. I do believe you’d visit with a caterpillar, if you thought It would bo pleased.” This seemingly absurd conjecture was verified. The next day as Mrs. Merritt sat In solitary state at her loom, there came upon the window sill a great fluted green caterpillar, moving with dignity, ns became a creature whom splendid destiny was to transform into a still more magni ficent green moth. ' T ”'0 shuttle lay idle as for some minutes Mrs. Merritt watched and ad mired, and even talked softly to her guest. All this would have seemed but foolishness to Sarepta, hud she been present. Her mind must have been constructed on a larger scale, after all, tor she reserved her curios ity for the human species. Within a fortnight she was again spending her afternoon at Mrs. Mer ritt’s, but she did not occupy her usual seat, commanding a view of the house. She had crowded her chair into a narrow space beside the loom. The window was above her head as she sat unobtrusively busy in darning a desperate rent in-her brown alpaca dress. She had caught it upon a stake which was driven beside the path; one of several stakes which, ’were’ visible from tjre doorway’.' Though her place was humble and retired, S’repty was full of indigna tion. Her own special grievance of the torn gown only added to her wrath at what she deemed a great public wrong. For months there had been talk of a proj jsad new railroad. At last the line had been surveyed, and it crossed the Merritt farm, running between the house and the “great burn.” S’repty lost no time in going to condole with her friend. “Here I be u-settin’, mendin’ a dress on me,” she remarked. “It’s a sign somebody is going to tell a lie about me, but 1 guess I can resk it If they can, ’s long’s ’’ain’t the truth. Wish 1 could uke them railroad folks buy in new dress! But you oughter git big damages,” she went on. “It just spiles your posy garden. It’s lucky the girls is growed up big enough to keep off’n the track.” Mrs. Merritt assented. “An’ to have ’em cornin’ along screechin’ In the middle of the night, shakin’ the very pillers under your head! I know how ’Ms to Sister Church’s. But the wust was when they was diggin’ and blastin’, an’ great stones a-flyin’ an’ Kentury’a folks had to live all cluttered up in the ell-part, an’ all nerved up when a blast went off. An’ when they went to meetin’, the road was all blocked up in front of Eben Clay’s house, an’ they had to drive up over tho bank, expecting the kerridge would slip off’n the aige. An’ her a- lookin’ out 'o the front winder, crosser’n time, because there was wheelmarks on the terriss, as she called it.” “The road will be easier to build here,” said Mrs. Merritt. “And aow they've begun they say they’re going to rush it through.” “But the emigrants will have to come, them Eyetalians,” said S’repty, “An’ tho shanties will be right under your nose, an’ there they’ll be cookin’ themselves, an’ livin’ on black bread.” Even this mixed statement, hinting at cannibalistic tendencies on the part of the workmen, did not seem to shake the' placid nerves of Mrs. Merritt. “You’re makings good, workman like job of that tear,” she said kindly. “There’s very few can beat you at mending, S’ropty.” S’repty drew her thread with a steadier hand. She was used tr> less disinterested compliments than this; hints pointing directly to great bas kets full of tattered garments which had accumulated ready for her needle. “Mother,” said Lois Merritt one morning some days later, “here is Bradford Toker- He says S’repty is very sick and wants to see you.” “Yessum,” put in a small boy at the door, “S’repty says, if you want to see her alive again, to come soon’s you can.” “How long has S’ropty been com plaining?” inquired Mrs. Merritt. “Oh, most a week—an’ Ins’ night we wuiskep’ up with lier ’bout all the forepart of the night,” said the small boy with a careworn air. She wus out of ’er head, an’ took mix pretty bad.” ^ “I’ll go over to your house as soon as I can, 1 ' said Mrs. Merritt. “She’p been dretful flighty," said Azariaii’s wife, beford sHe led the Way to the sick-room. “She’s been goin’ on about bein’ took up, an’ about ydilr Beirt’ tail oyer by the engine, nn’ such like. She beguri with d sdrt of influential cold a day or two after she was over to your house. Monday ehe cotlldn’t git upi I ha^ my bands full, so I kep’ Bradford Udine fro rtf school, art’ that most killed Him. But he’s a great hind td lead, Bradford is, an' he took the last Rearing Brook Argus upstairs an’ read it through to S’renty, advertisements and all. Somethin’ in it seemed to excite her, and she begun to act hind’er Wild then, lie thought. But Of course we all know that the iutellex of S’repty’s mind ain’t over keen at the beraft at times, an’ havin’ so much read to her right outtind’er dazedher.” It was a Very pale,drawn face which Mrs. Merritt encountered a moment later,—that of the supposed Vlcthfi of too much learning, but there Was in the eyes a feverish brightness which gave them more expression than usual. S’repty said but little, and that in Very feeble ton es, until then came a call from below which her sister-in-law was obliged to heed. Then the invalid started promptly Into sitting nos tore and drew from Under her pillow a newspaper, Which she handed to Mrs. Merritt. “I got Bradford to bring it up here, an’ say nothin’,” she said. “Now read that Itum.” Mrs. Merritt road as follows: “A considerable number of the stakes which were driven by the of ficials engaged in surveying the pro- S osed route of the R. B. and 8. V. R. were surreptitiously removed during the night of June 16. We un derstand the are strong suspicions as to the identity of the perpetrator ol this outrage.” “Now, how dew yew s’pose they found it out,” said S’repty. “These newspaper folks is great hands tc make up new words,but when I heerd my own name read right out so, il did give me an awful start. Who could ’a’ told ’em?” “Oh, the correspondents make it their business to find out all about these little happenings.” “But what made ’em think /did It?” persisted S’repty, in a tremu lous whisper. “You?” said her friend. “What did you have to do about it? We surmised it was those Clancy boys did it for fun.” “It was me that pulled up them stakes. An’I duuno but I’d'dew it agin’. F’r’aps^ it’s just as well I sha’ntgitup ag’in. ' But that sca’t me so when Bradford read it out so loud, ‘Srepty-shushly, just the same ns sayin’ it was jhe.” “Don’t worry a mite about it," said her friend soothingly. “That’s a real dictionary word, and didn’t mean anything about you. And I ‘won't say a word about it, even to Silas.” S’repty’a eyes lost some of their distracted look. “That’s just like you, Luclndy,” she said feebly. “I should hate to have it in everybody’s mouth, arter I was gone, how I jus’ missed bein’ took up, by dyin’.” “But, S’repty, what in the world did possess you, a woman of yout years, to cut up such a crazy caper?” ‘ ‘ ‘Twas all on your acconnt, Lu- cindy. Cornin’ home from your house, I got' to thinkin’ about ,the railroad track runnin’ between the house an’ the barn, an’ if I didn’t run ag’inst another stake and tear my dress wuss’n ’twas before. An’ that night I drefnp how you was goin’ acrost to the barn to do some weavin,’ an’ the cars came along an’ run over you.” “There, there, don’t think any more about it,” said her friend. But S’repty must make her confession. “So nex’ night when Azariah an’ his wife was gone to the strawb’ry festival, I cut over acrost to your home lot. I knew your folks was gone to the Center too, but I was afeard somebody’d be ’round an’ see me. Stilly I hed to risk it. I’d no idee how hard it would be glttin’ them sticks up, but I remembered how good you’d alius ben to me, I tried to come homo a shorter way. thinkin’ I heerd somebody follerin,’ an’ I got into that springy place In tho Lloyd lot, an’ got my dress wet an’ my shoes.” “You poor thing youl” said the object of all this ill-starred loyalty. “To think that you should have so much trouble on my account 1 The railroad folks have acted real fair by ua. And I wouldn’t say anything about it yet,for you know how every thing goes, but we expect to move in the fall.” ‘You don’t say!” exclaimed S’repty wi'.h considerable animation. “Yes, he’s been thinking fora long time the place is too large for him to carry on, seein’ the boys ain’t ever going to take to farmin’. And the creamery folks want it, and he had a good chance to buy the Ford place at the Center.” “What! the house with the pillars in front?” inquired S’repty, much revived. “Yes, and so I gave my consent. It’s home to me where my folks are. The girls urged me real hard. I suppose, if nothing happens, Emma will live right next door to us—” “What, has Emma Jane an’ John Kliborn made up?” queried S’repty, forgetting her feebleness and sitting up. “Yes, and I suppose there will hove to be a double wedding,” said Mrs. Merritt. “Well, I never!” said S’repty. Lois ain’t goin’ to be married, too?” “The girls wouldn’t thank mo for telling, but you won’t mention it. That’s the plan now.” “When you move, 1 can’t go an’ set with you an’ sie you weave, even if 1 should ever git up ag'ln, sighed S’reply, dropping on her pillow. . “Oh, ha says there’s room enough In the house for (if? loom, and .ttbin. we get moved, I want you Iff 4P* and make me a good visit” The invalid brightened again. “Haln’t you told anybody you wgs goin’to move? Not Mis* PetefSi nor Viny Smith?” “Not yeti” said Mys. Merritt. Sarepta breallidd d digit of content. “An’ | know Rosdlid ain’t heerd of it,” she raid:—[Romance. PROPOSED BY TELCPHONfii A Hardware Drummer Gets Ahead •fMla Rival. Aheventlias occurred In Michigan, hear Detroit, whush Appears to con firm the idea tlia^UrtshiU, dl Well as most othef' things, Will ■ frereaiter be greatly facilitated by recent In ventions. It seems that there is a youhg lady residing In Detroit who for soirte tihie hSS been the recipient of the attentions ot two ydtirig ttten,- one a professor in ithe State Univer sity at Ann Arbor land the other a travelling salesmari for a New York wholesale hardware house Whose route extends through Michigan and parts of Canada, r One day recently-the New Yorker arrived In Detroit late .in the after noon, and, of course, immediately started to make tharoUnds of the re tail hardware dealefs, with the laud able purpose of selling each a good Stock for tile \vinte| before the repre sentative of any rivjll Concern shoulo put in an appearanfie. He had hoped to visit the object his affections in the evening, but ktteiness was brisk, and eight o'clock wound him very busy trying to itidike a prominent dealer to take sitt Jozefi axes, four dozen grindstones,and a half car load of wooden pails. At tills stage of the proceedings a younger brother of the young lady dropped in td; get a new jackknife and Incideatly. mentioned that the Ann Arbor professor was up at the house. It instantly occurred to the progressive hardware and cutlery drummer that the college man came for no other purpose than to lay his heart at the feet of the young lady lie adored. For a moment there was a struggle in his heart, but he Speed ily got control of himself and de cided that he cquld not possibly leave the store, as the dealer was just deciding to take the pails. But tlie thought of giving up the lady, who had bee&Xor months con stantly in his mind^fltking'and sleep ing, was unbearable. Liglit suddenly dawned on him. Handing the mer chant a circular explaining the mer its of his newdoubie-bladedchopping knives, he requested the use of the dealer's telephone for five minutes, stepped to it and rang up the cen tral office. A moment later the telephone bell at the residence of the young lady rang, sharp and decisive. The pro fessor had been there for an hour, talking pleasantly of cie grand edu cational work they were doing in the department of fossilology at Ann Arbor. When the bell rang, the lady’s father being absent (lie is a phys ician), site excused herself and pro ceeded to the adjoining room to an swer it. The professor heard her step to the telephone and say “yes,” make a short pause and say “yes” again. Then there was a longer pause and he heard her reply: “Why—why really, this is very sudden.” Then there wus a still longer pause, and he heard her say “yes” very softly, and then “good-by,” and then she hung up the receiver and came into the back room. The college man moved closer to the lady and remarked that it was a warm evening, and lie thought it was going to rain, and then resumed his talk about the great work at the uni versity. Fifteen minutes later there was a ring at tho front door bell. The lady responded to it, and a district messenger boy handed her a plain gold ring, which she slipped on her finger, and returned into the parlor. “Miss said the professor, five minutes later, “1 want to ask you a vyry important question tills evening. Excuse me for putting it bluntly, but will you be my wife?” But we need go no further with this. Two min utes later the professor went down the front steps and shook his fist at the telephone wire, and took the first train for Ann Arbor.—[Hardware. Adoption Among Birds. Modern scientific research un doubtedly tends to place the ethics of bird life on a higher and higher level. Even the cuckoo, against whom so much has been written, is now acknowledged to have been ma ligned when it was universally af firmed by ornithologists that it dis plays in its tenderest stage of devel opment the odious faculty ol ejecting its lawful occupants from the stolen nest in which it has been placed. The Bishop of Newcastle lias now made himself responsible for a touch ing little anecdot-\ Not long ago, says Dr. Wilberforce, there was a Frenchman who had a large family and who was haunted by the idea that when he died there would be no one to look after his children. While thinking of this one spring day he noticed two nests in a hedge close by each other. Each ' contained half- fledged birds, whose parents were ly ing dead. He went away sad, think ing that the young birds must die. Wpat was his surprise, however, a few days after, to see them quite happy and apparently well fed. 'He stood apart and watched, and pres ently he saw the parent birds of other nests come to the young birds and feed them. They had adopted tho little orphans, a fact which the Frenchman naturally took as a good omen with regard to his own little ones.—[London News. THE^JoKER’S BtTOGET. JESTS AND YARNS BY FUNNY MEN OF THEXPRESS. A Wise Cow--Ground* tar Prido-- Ao to Eldo’o Romolne-* Possible Pole-Chaser--Eto., Etc. “} A WISE COW. Fslrdsiden (from town)—How sar* tgely that cow looks at rae. Fartser Hayseed—It’s your red ffliiffl. Fair Mafften—Dear me f I knew It was a little bit out of fashion, but I didn’t suppose a country cow would notice it—{Baltimore Telegram. - «»*sotr»s*»u» x's%***s*. “The Misses Toplofty put on a great many airs.” “Well, they have good reason for doing so.” “Why?” “Their father failed for half a mil lion.”—[Boston Gasette. as to nno’s remains. “He was a beautiful little dog,” Said the caller, doing her best to offer sympathy.- "It must be a real bereavement to have to lose him. Can’t—can’t you take his remains to a taxidermist’s?” “I think,” said Mrs. Gofrequent, with a fresh burst of tears, “we had already paid the taxes o'tl him.” POSSIBLE POLE-CHASER. jimmy-^Aln’t you awful glad cool weather is cornin’, Mr. Muddle? Mr. Muddle—Well, I dont know. Why? Jimmy—Oh, ’cause mamma said your wife made things hot for you most of (he tinio,—[Chicago Inter- Ocean. A LIMITED SUPPLY. Gilhooly—So you are going to marry another one of those Jones girls. Henderson—Yes. “You have been married to two of them, haven’t yotl?” “Yes.” “And there are only two unmarried sisters left?” “Yes; that’s all.” “Well, then, you ought to be care ful with those Jones girls and not waste any more of them or they Will not hold out\”—[Texas Siftings. CRUELTY go THE AGED. Elderly Suitor (tenderly)—My darling, do you thinlc'you could be an old man’s pet? Miss Giddigir!—Gracious! And is it you that ma intends to take for a second husband? A DIFFERENT SORT OF SMASH. Mr. Cashly (as the ocean liner passes Sandy Hook)—My dear, we have broken the record ! Mrs. C.—Gracious 1 I hope that ac cident won’t delay us any way! There’s always something breaking down when one travels.—[Ntw York Advertise*. A DELIGHT IN SCHOOL DAYS. Aunty—Are you sorry school days are here once more, Bobby? Bobby—No; I’m gind. Aunty—That's u good boy. Why are you glad? Bobby —’Cause now I can play hooky again.—[Browning's Monthly. AN UHHOLDER OF AUTHORITIES. Mr. Mugg—I can’t see how you talk about “admirable police vigil ance” when your neighbors have been robbed so often! Mr. Tamm—Well, I never have been I A COLD DOUSE ON POETRY. Shelly Shoddy—Here wo lays; de stars are our night lamps, an’ de blue sky our blanket. Tired Timmy—Yis; but de cops are carefully watchin’ over ns in stead of de angels.—[New York Ad vertiser. A POLITE CUSTOMER. Tailor (to his apprentice whom lie has sent with a bill to adilatory cus tomer)—Well, I guess lie wasn’t pleased at the sight of voui Apprentice—On the contrary he invited me to call again. K\l) f ADVICE. “I don’t think I shall ever be a So cialist,” said Mr. Manhattan Beach to Mr. Uptown Westside. “ No ? ” queried Westside. “No, indeed. 1 attended that meeting at the Thalia Theatre the other night outof curiosity. One of the speakers said: ‘ We are on the verge of a precipice,’ and then boldly called for the Socialists to ‘march on.’ ’’—[Texas Siftings. WOULD HAVE GIVEN UP SOONER. Scientificus—I wonder how the a hale kept Jonah in his stomach for three day. Jollicus—It didn’t find out he was a Jonah until then. SOME DEFECT IN THE DOG. Hayes—I wonder why Brown sold the watchdog he used to blow about so much. Jackson—A tramp stole the chain the dog was tied to.—[NewYork Sun. THE REASON. “ Why do they call the living skel eton the Napoleon of the dime mu seum?” “Because he is the bony part of the show.—[New York Press. THE KIND IT WAY. * Loving Wife—But, my : dear, do you call it a stag pa&y? . Fond Husbandr-Welli' fop. dear, there’s generally a.-hitle game fat some sort there. most iAseBable of men. A miserable looking man Was walk ing around the streets yesterday afternoon acting like a chicken look ing for a place to roost. His wife was giving an afternoon party for women only, and would not let him in.—[Atchison Globe. A TWO-FOLD ADVANTAGE. Hicks—I think some of buying a bicycle and getting a little out-door “M^^ck^M Wouldn’t; the oaey carnage has again as many wheels, and besides, they will let you run it on tho sidewalk.—[New York World. SHE WAS UP TO HIM. He—My dearest, darlingost little wife She—You needn't employ any of that sort of taffy, for you won’t get the latch-key, no matter what you say.—[Texas Siftings. BOTH LOST. “ Mister,” said the small, neatly- dressed boy, “have you seen anythin’ of a dog that looked like lie was lost?” “No. my boy,” replied the kindly- faced gentleman, “Are you sure you aren’t lost yourself?” “No, sir. I ain’t sure about not bein’ lost. Fact is, I know I’m lost. But, mister, that dog’s lost so much wuss’n 1 am Hint I uint got time to think ’bout my own t roubles.—[Wash ington Star. - THE Nt’CJWSAUY THING. Spencer—I’d like to go all round the world in a sailing yacht. Ferguson—Then why don’t you? Spencer—Because I can’t raise the wind.—[New York World. THE SIZE OF IT, Rackette—It struck mo that the little girl you had with you the other night was somewhat pensive. Rounder—“Ex”pensive, my boy. UW THE SAME THING. Mr. Oldboie—1 am a self-made man, sir. I began life as a barefoot boy, Kennard—Indeed. Well, I wasn’t born with shoes on either.—[Truth. Bank ot England Pa SF. The paper (Hone is remarkable in many ways—''notably for its unique whiteness and the peculiar “feel” of crispness; while Its combined thin ness and transparency are guards against two once very popular modes of forgery—the washing out of the printing by means of turpentine, and erasure with the knife. The wire-murk, or water-mark, is another precaution against counter- feiting, and is produced in the paper while it is in a state of pulp. In the old manufacture of bank-notes this water-murk was caused by an enorm ous number of wires (over 2,000) stitched and sewed together; now it is engraved in a steel-faced die,which is afterward hardened, and is then applied as apuncli to stamp the pat tern outof plates of sheet brass. The shading of the letters of this water mark further increases the difficulty of imitation. The paper is made en tirely from new white linen cuttings —never from anything that lias been worn—and the toughness of it may Im roughly estimated from the fact that a single bank-note will, when unsized, support a weight of thirty- six pounds. The paper is produced in pieces largo enough for two notes, each of which exactly measures five inches by eight inches, and weighs eighteen grains before it is sized; and so carefully are the notes pre pared thft even the number of dips into the pulp made by each work man is registered on a dial by ma chinery. Few people are aware that a Bank of England note is not of the same thickness all through. In point of fact the paper is thicker in tho left- hand corner to enable it to retain a keener impression of the vignette there, and it is also considerably thicker in the dark shadows of the centre letters and beneath tlie figures at the ends. Counterfeit notes are invariably of one thickness only throughout.—[Cornhill Magazine. Tha Extram* in Econom TO FILL A LONG-FELT WANT. Of “What’s tlie subscription price your newspaper?” “Two dollars a year.” “Is it intended for any particular class of renders?” “Yes; it’e for those who have two J dollars.” A curious advertisement appeared in some of the morning papers the other day to the effect that a one legged man would hear something to his advantage by applying at a cer tain address. Though not one legged myself, I culled there and found the advertiser to be a Grand Army man who had lost a leg at An- Uetam. Questioned as to why he hud inserted the advertisement which attracted my attention, he gave this explanation : “My idea,” he said, “is to find a man who has lost his leg. You notice that my right is'gone. Now I pay $8 a pair for my shoes, and I wear about five pair a year. That makes sMO. And besides that I wear a good many socks which also count up con siderably. “You can readily see that if I can find a man who has lost the other leg and wears the same size shoe that I do, we can whack up, and by buy ing our Shoes together we would make considerable.” I apologized "to the old gentleman for my curiosity in tlie matter, and went away thinking to myself what awoiulorful tilingeconoqiy is.—[New York Herald. Nearly all tho gum arable ol com merce comes from the Great Sahara Desert. akt;. 7 ' ' ■ ' school *i*'*a*rx.V IshooT* begun and all oar tun In the woods Is ended, ". Alt the old books mast be fonnd. Parted up, and mended. . Tommy boy he grew so sad '' f ' That he threw his slate right down And declared it just too bad— Cried because school mart begin, Likes to ever be a dunce! "Tommy Jones,” I sajd to him, -"Stop that foolishness at once! v . If yon do not go to school, Just you tell me, If you can, What you will amount to sir, When you’ve grown a great big mm!” / -A-Womankind. A COLT PUNISHES A BAM Fob -unoaurx. The following is a little incident which came under the observation of the writer: Two young horses have been kept in a pasture, with a number of cows and a year-old calf, and they were acenstomed to come up to tho gate every night with tho cows, the older heading the line and the younger bringing up the rear. Owing to a want of water in their pasture, some sheep were brought to the one in which the horses and cows were kept, and these sometimes followed the cowa when they came at night to be milked. One night they did so, and when all the animats were standing together the ram butted the calf, and the other colt going over to it, seized the ram by the wool on its back and,lifting it entirely off the ground, shook it vigorously. He then placed it on the ground and it quickly ran away, while the horse continued to stand guard over his friend. —Our Dumb Animals. GRASSHOPPEB DIRT. Some enterprising person who docs not mind making experiments that would dannt men of unquestioned bravery, has discovered that grasshop pers are good to eat. It is claimed for them that they are not only nu tritions, but agreeable to the taste, particularly when boiled for two hours, with butter aud spices and suit added. The value of this discovery is great, because these athletic insects bave often devastated the farms in the west to such an extent that thoso who have depended upon their farm pro duce for their daily food have been brought face to face with starvation. Now, knowing the value of the grass hopper as a means of sustaining life, they need not starve, and if, as tho discoverer elaims, the insect is so de licious a morsel, perhaps many will welcome what has hitherto been con sidered a plague simply for the vari ety the visitation will afford iu their daily fare.—Atlanta Constitution. IIIL : , ^ i- . ' : > * j A LIVELY COCKATOO. Its name was Doctor Lindley—given it for its habit of pulling flowers to pieces, as if for botanical analysis- ami it was kept at a hotel in Mel bourne, where Lidy Barker, a part of whose description we quote, made its acquaintance. Ouc of the Doctor’s best tricks is the imitation of a hawk. He reserves this flue piece of acting till his mis tress is feeding her poultry; then when all the hens and chickens, tur keys and pigeons are iu the quiet en joyment of their breakfast or supper, the peculiar, shrill cry of a hawk ia heard overhead, and the Doctor ia seen circuling in the air, uttering a scream occasionally. The fowls never And out that it is a hoax, but mu to shelter cackling in the greatest alarm—hens clucking loudly for their chicks, turkeys crouching under the bushes, the pigeons taking refuge in their house. As soon as the ground is quite clear the cockatoo changes his wild note for peals of laughter, and finally alighting on the top of a hencoop filled with trembling chickens, re marks in a suffocated voice, “You’U be the death of me.” At other times he pretends to have a violent toothache, and nurses his beak in his claw, rocking backward and forward as if in the greatest agony, and croaking in response to all tho remedies proposed: “Oh it aint a bit of good ;”after which sidling up to the edge of its perch, it says in a hoarse but confidential whis per, “Give me a drop of whiskey, do.” I enjoyed his sewing performance, also—to see him hold a little piece of stuff underneath the claw which rested on the perch, and pretend to sew with the other, getting into diffi culties with the thread, and finally setting up a loud song in praise of sewing-machines, just as if he were reciting au advertisement.—Youth's Companion. V An eccentric Southern woman dated her will 1789 instead of 1889, but tho court has decided that this does not unpair its vitality. THIS PAGE CONTAINS FLAWS AND OTHER DEFFCTS WHICH MAY APPEAR ON THE FILM.