The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on November 9, 1892 · Page 6
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The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 6

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Algona, Iowa
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Wednesday, November 9, 1892
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TME UPPER DES MOINES, ALGdNA, IOWA, WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 9. 1892, Mie Bay's Work. wni work, my dear, Set and dark the clouds kre drifting Rime has little left for liope and very Hcli for fear. f Kr day's work, though now (hand must falter and the head must bow 1 far above the falling foot shows the boh mountain brow. RTet there is left us, who on the valley's verge stand trembling . . thus, A light that lies far in the west—soft, faint, but luminous. We cati give kindly speech, And ready, helping hands to alt and each, And patience to the young around by smiling Silence teach. We can give gentle thought, And charity, by life's long lesson taught, And wisdom, from old faults lived down, by toll and failure wrought. We can give love, unmarred By selfish snatch of happiness unjarred By the keen alms of power or Joy that make youth cold and bard. And If gay hearts reject The gifts we bold—would fain fare on unchecked On the bright roads that scarcely yield all that young eyes expect- Why, do the day's work still. The calm deep founts of love aroslow to chill: And heaven may yet the harvest yield, the work -worn bands to fill. —Charles Klely Shetterly. March in the mountains! Freshets roaring down the ravines, great thickets of pines tossing their green crests to and fro in the rush of the tempestuous wind, snow shining off on the plateaus and pink clusters of trailing-arbutus breaking out into bloom in southern nooks and sheltered places, where last winter's dead leaves had not yet drifted away. And Lucy Vervain, standing in her russet walking- dress on the porch of the little mountain inn, wondered if the famous Bernese Alps were grander than these Catskill heights. Lucy Vervain was small and slight and brown-skinned, but she had large, wistful eyes of so dark a hazel that they seemed to melt into the black around the iris, and there were quick roses ready to deepen in her cheeks if any one spoke to her. She was pretty, in her way, like a' Wild flower or .a little brown-winged bird; and she looked round with a troubled air, as the sound of an excited feminine voice floated out from the one unpretentious little "best parlor" of the inn. "It's outrageous," said Miss Clara Vervain. "I'm very sorry, ma'am," said Mr. Mixit, who kept the house. "Unendurable!" declared Miss Vervain. "It does happen sometimes, ma'am, when the streams is high, at the spring of the year," the landlord pleadedT "You see, there ain't no bridge can stand the freshets,'if " "And we have got to stay here in this horrid hole of a place until your tumble-down bridge is mended?" "I don't see any other way for you, ma'am," said Mr. Mixit, meekly. "It's the most provoking thing I ever knew in my life," said Miss Vervain. She stalked about the room like a second Lady Macbeth 'as she spoke. For Clara was as unlike her blushing, shrinking little sister as the tall poppy is to the r.imible corn-flower. She was handsome and stately, and wore long trains to her dresses and bangles on her wrists, and used perfume on her handkerchiefs and "did" her hair after tho latest, fashion-plates. "It. uin't my fault, ma'am," said the landlord, driven to the very confines of despair. "I can't stop the freshet, nor yet 1 can't build a new bridge." "dura, dear, don't allow yourself to be so annoyed," soothed Lucy, coming like :i noiseless gray shadow into the room. "We shall only be detained a a day aftur all, and I am sure it Is very pleasant huro." "I am not accustomed to delays," said Miss Vervain, loftily. "I know, dear, but " "And if I am compelled to remain in such a place as this," added Clara, glancing superciliously around her, "I must really insist upon privacy." "Eh?" said Mr. Mixit. "That old person in the snuff-colored coat." said Miss Vervain, with a royal motion of her head to an old gentleman in a wig and spectacles, who was reading the- paper at a distant window. "I dare say he will do very well in your kitchen or bar-room, and I prefer this apartment to mysuiif." "Oh, Clara!" pleaded Lucy, crimsoning to the very roots of ker hair. The landlord looked puzzled, but tho old man folded his newspaper, returned his spectacles to their case and rose slowly to his feet. "Certainly, miss," said ho; "certainly. If I'm intruding, I'll go to the kitchen. There's always room for me there, Eh, Mixit?" 'And he trudged with alacrity out of the room, followed by mine host. "I'm afraid you've hurt his feelings, Clara," said Lucy, piteously. "Who cares for his feelings?" said Miss Vervain, sniffing at her scent bottles. "Mine are much more to the purpose. And I don't choose to associate with every country farmer in the Catskills." "Clara, dear!" "Well: 1 " "We are only a book-keeper's daughters ourselves." "As if that signified," said Miss Vervain, scornfully. "We are going to our aristocratic relations, aren't "But perhaps they won't care to keep us?" ."That is neither here nor there," said M'iss Vervain. "But you never had any proper pride, Lucy." Little Lucy Vervain was si ill pondering, with puzzled brow, over the distinction between proper pride and pride that was not proper, when the landlord's wife, a buxom dame in mtidder-red calico and a frilled white apron, camo to summon the guests to dinner. \ "We've only a roast fowl with breaXI sauce and u little cranberry jelly," saiav, Mrs. Mixit, "but it ain't often as folks stops hern ovi;r a meal, and I hope, ladies, as you'll kindly pardon any shortcomings." But Mirts Vervain stopped short on the very threshold of the dining-room. "I stiotiid prefer a table to niyseii, said she, haughtily. "Ma'am!" said Mixit. "Dear Claraj" pleaded, Lucy in at agony of distress, as she saw the ret llush rise to the forehead of the olt man in a snuff-colored suit, who sat a the head of the well-spread board. "I prefer dining with my sister on ly," insisted Miss Vervain, delighted with an opportunity of asserting he exclUsiveness. "Keally, I Cannot im agine how people can obtrude them selves in this sort of way." The old man rose quietly* "Do I understand, young woman*" said he, "that you objett to me?" "Yes. sir, I do object to you—if yot compel me to put it in that way," sail Miss Vervain. "Indeed!" The old man lifted his grizzled brows. "1 may not be one o your fashionable fops " "That is easily to be seen," con^ temptuously interpolated the young lady. "But I am clean and decent, added the stranger. "However, I dare say Mrs. Mixit.can accommodate me with a plate^and knife and fork in another room, if my presence is really obnoxious to these young women." "Young ladies, sir, if you please,' said Miss Vervain, with a toss of her head. He smiled a shrewd, sagacious smile. "As to that," said he, "opinions may perhaps differ," and he followed Mrs". Mixit into the kitchen. Clara Vervain took her seat complacently at the table. "These people will begin after while to comprehend the difference between a lady and a shop-girl," said she. "It is quite evident that they are not favored with many travelers." Half an hour afterward, as the old man in a snuff-colored suit was stepping into a plain little carriage, a'soft hand touched his sleeve, and turning he found himself looking into Lucy Vervain's troubled brown eves. "Well, my dear," said lie, kin ily. "What is it?" . "I—I only wanted to beg your pardon, sir," faltered the little brunette. "I am sure my sister did not mean to burt your feelings, and— ; —" "I am sure, at all events, that -you did not," said the old man, kindly. And I dare say that your sister will be wiser one of these days!" And thus speaking, he nodded good- aumoredly and drove away. It was nearly dark, however, before he clnmsy caryall which was to con- Tey the two New York ladies to their destination arrived, and they entered "To Cliff Hall," said Miss Vervain, liaughtily, as she leaned back in the seat and settled her skirts languidly about her. "Cliff Hall!" said Mr. Mixit, staring. "You don't never mean as you're going to Cliff Hall?" echoed Mrs. Mixit. "I think we have considerably astonished these good people," said Miss Vervain, with a smile, as they rattled away from the door. " , "I only hope our Uncle Cliff will receive us kindly," sighed poor Lucy. _ Cliff Hall was a substantial old mansion, built of gray stone with a succession of terraces falling down the mountain side and exquisit groups of statuary half-hidden in the forest trees, •ind tho lights wore already beginning to gleam hospitably along its front as they drove up. An old man-servant opened the outside door just far enough to reveal the cheery glow of a wood lire and tho deep tin£s of a crimson Axminster carpet witliin. "Is my Uncle Cliff at home?" said Miss Vervain, with an air and a grace. "Mr. Cliff is—ay, mem," answered the servant, with a strong Scotch ac- :ent. "Tell him his nieces from New York are hero—the Missos Vervain," said Jlara, as she swept into the ante- ihamber. As she entered an old man dressed n snuff-brown rose from before the Blazing logs. "My nieces from New York, eh?" said Caleb Cliff. "They are welcome." And to Miss Vervain's surprise and dismay she found herself face to face with the old man of the Catskill wayside inn. "You are astonished?" said he, lightly arching his brows. "So am I. t is not always best to judge by ap- jearances, Sit down. Sanders," to he servant, "let dinner be served." Miss Clara Vervain loft Cliff Hall the next morning, with all her bright an- jcipations shattered to the dust. liut ittle brown-faced Lucy staid to keep louse for her uncle. "She's too genteol for us, isn't she?" chuckled old Caleb Cliff, as tlie car- •iage drove away,which was to carry diss Clara Vervain to the New York station. Clara went back to her teaching, ml if the bitter tears of repentant nortilication can wash out tho past, hat day in Catskills would have been erased long ago. "If I had only known who ho was" laid Miss Vervain. Alas! this world is full of "ifs."— N. Y. Clipper. ... ' Copporplaifng Zinc. Copperplating sheet zinc for build- ng purposes has been tried with con- iderablo success in Germany, the zinc ombining well with the copper. Tho no is cleaned with soda and purified >y a weak acid bath. In twenty-four >arts of water one part of refined ver- ligris and twelve .parts of cream of urtar are dissolved, and tho mixture s heated to the boiling point, when hreo to four parts of Spanish white are added. Tho latter is decomposed .ml precipitated as limo tartrate. The lark-blue liquid, .after filtering, can >e used as a bath for tho shoot zinc or or tho production of copporplatlng Jaste. An immovable zinc object can jo painted with tho copper solution mil a chalk compound that can be crushed. Tho process is of value for architectural purposes where it is de- irod to remedy tho unpleasant effects zinc ornamentations. It takes a good deal to satisfy man. man, for instance, was unquestioua- lx«in it," and still Jon*& wasn't SomervMle Journal. EARTH VIBRAtlONS. Hoir Toting Feoplo Sliding' Down Hill bit tori> the Globe. - It seems that the earth, once ! se.t in vibration, maintains this state;for a long tim|j before coming to rest,' The observers of Greenwich found that from time to time, at considerable intervals, there wias .ail evening when ;the usual observations for determining the collifnation error of the transit circle by means of reflection in a tray ol mercury could not be taken on- account of the constant trembling of the surface of the mercury t which, on such occasions, continued' until long past midnight. . There are occasions when crowds oj the poorer classes of London flock fot amusement to Greenwich" park. A favorite pastime with the young people, often prolonged until ivfter nightfall, is to clamber to the top of the steep slopes of the hill on which the observatory stands—in fact to the paling ol the inclosure—and then, joining hands in twos and threes, bolt precipitately' to the bottom, where, as .may 'be imagined,','they usully" arrive "all in a heap." Hundreds join in this sport on fine evenings, and the result, as shown by the behavior of the mercury,, is to set the whole of Flamsteed hill in a tremor, which does .not subside until early next morning, many hours after the people have left.. Another very beautiful proof of this fact offered itself to me in the. geophysical observatory of Iloeca di Papa, Ilome. A light earthquake comihg from Artuila (at 110 kilometers northeast of Ttocca di Papa) was' felt and registered by the instruments at 9:39 a. m., mean time of Rome, on the ,8th of last February, Just at that time I was casually observing through.' a microscope a pendulum six centimeters long, which suddently began to display great agitation. Now, such a pendulum, when removed from its equilibrim position for an amplitude equal to the observed, comes to rest in about half an hour.' In the present case the pendulum continued to oscillate till the afternoon. Nor did the character of the:vibratioris correspond to the gradually and regularly diminishing "oscillation of a pen-' dulum which has received a single' shock. • °- •/'. The pendulum is firmly fixed to a big column, deeply founded in tlie basalt lava, so as to .give trustworthy, indications of the real movements of the ground. Perturbing causes .winch would have kept the pendulum in ligi- tation, such as wind, the passing of people, carriages, etc., had not. tin that day to be taken into account. I think it rather improbable.tlmt secondary and subsequent shocks coining from the same center as the first one were the cause of the ofiserved fact. A much more probable explanation would be that the whole hill on which the observatory is • built maintained during the whole time the par-, ticular state of trembling produced by ;he first shock. •'•-.' ;; SISTERS IN CRIME. '"' Cleopatra and Mary Stuart -Were V«Py Much Alike In Disposition. What was Cleopatra's inner character? A voluptuous woman of the easti say the Romans, eager to enchain any master, of a Roman army by the foulest arts; but the. Roman oligarchy not only hated but dreaded Cleopatra. To them she was not only Asia incarnate^ but, the representative of'that "regal" 3way, that rule by volition instead of by traditional order, which, with their statesmanlike instinct, they saw the triumphant aristocrat whom their system tended to produce would ultimately desire. They cursed her as the greatest of Asiatic harlots, whereaa she was a Greek, and, according to the London Spectator, much more like Vlary Stuart as her enemies have tainted her, a woman Unscrupulous in gratifying her fancies* careless even of murder when needful—Cleopatra mur- lered her brother-husband, just at) Mary murdered her cousin-husband— nut who used her charms chiefly as nstruments to attain her ends, which were, first of all, the empire of the sast, which her ancestors had striven 'or generations to "acquire—and very nearly acquired—and to defeat the half-civilized and headless Roman Dower, which she hated with the hatred >f a monarch and despised with the jontempt of a true Greek. Who were these barbarians that they should conquer men who were polished when they were savages? She always elected the same lover, the head'of he invading Roman army, and always ised him to .help her in founding, as he hoped, the .empire of tho east. Her attractive power was probably not her >eauty. Her ,coins do not reveal a Beautiful woman, but a broad-browed, houghtful , queen, and Plutarch, in [escribing, her, evidently speaks on he authority of men whose fathers iad studied her face. Ho says: "Her actual beauty, it is said, was at in itself so remarkable that none ould be compared with her, or that 10 one could see l^pr without being truck by it, but the contact of her jresenco, if you lived with her, was rresi'stiblo; the attraction of her per- on.joining with the charm of her con- ersation, and tho character that at- ended all she said or did, was some- hing bewitching. It was a pleasure merely to hear the sound of her voiuo, vith which, like an instrument of nany strings, she could pass from one anguago to another; so that Inure voro few of tho barbarian nations that ho answered by an interpreter; to uost of them she spoke herself, as to lie Ethiopians, Troglodytes, Hebrews, Vrabiaus, Syrians, Modus, Parthians, and many others, whose language she " ad lear/ied." LIVES TO KILL SNAKES. oi me maaman. jonn jbnes came t Arkansas twenty-five years or nior ago from—no one knows where. Jfone may or may not be the rightful-nam of the strange man. That was; th name he'gave'to tjhefew mountaiiie'er he met.in the early . : days, and "the N Y; Recorder says it whs not considerei the proper thing at. that time to b pverpafticular about names. Indeed it was.a serious "bree'cn of etiquette ii those days to ask strangers .imperti rient questions about the names the; bofe when they'lived in the far east Jones followed' the calling of hunte and trapper. He -built a 1 little hut o roughly heWn logs. •A short time afMr he came a strange woman was seen.at the trapper's home She was young arid handsome. Jone said she wasliia wife. . Pqople askei no prying questions. One thing \va evident.:' Mrs. Joties was not a nativi of that country.; '.There Vas a certain air of culture and refinement abou her that appeared strangely out o p|ace in the rude cabin .home in th wilds of the "mountains. 'They lived together,' apparently .happy, for five years, aha-;/.then their relation was brought to an abrupt close, The trap per returned from a hunting expedi tion late one evening. He 'found to his horror the wonian who hadsharec his lonely life lying upon the cabin floor. Her limbs were rigid. She was cold in death. Thero.a few feet away lay coiled a huge ground rattlesnake The reptile had bit the woman long hours before, and it was still in the room. The trapper,' with a groan o mental- anguish, , sprang upon the snake. He stamped it dead, and then with a hunting knife'cut it into smal pieces';'' The woman was laid to rest in a grave near the rude hut. When the two rough mountaineers, who had Come to assist in 'the last sad rites lowered,the corpse' in the grave a cry o agony broke from the lips of the bereaved trapper: '•''My.God!" he muttered, "I sto.le her from him and she was taken from me! 1 ' ,".'' ..; .After that last, paroxysm of grie: Jiassed he never spoke again of the dead. All that is known of the history of the strange couple is gleaned from that one remark: "I stole her from him. arid she was taken from me." ;' After the sod had covered forever the form of the woman the trapper had loved in life there came a hard look in.his eyes. It was the bright, merciless stare of madness. There was but one object in life for him thenceforward. His whole soul wa; bent upon the extermination of snakes. Since the simple funeral near the little hut.long years ago hundreds and hundreds of snakes have been killed by the hermit. Instead of a marble tombstone to mark the last resting place o) a loved one there at the mound in the mountains there is a huge pile of skeletons of snakes. Many of the bleached bones are crumbling back to mother earth. The hermit has done penance there. Instead of flowers with him it has been snakes. One by one they were killed and laid together.IJo rot beside the' mountain grave. "Although tottering with age, the hertijit continues in his strange life. STORY OF KIPLING. A Tonne Woman Who Had a Little til' with Him. 'ho Strungo Story of an Aifod Uccluae In tliu Mountains of Arkansuij. In tho mountains of northwestern Arkansas, twenty milos or more from lore, there lives in a lonely log cabin a solitary man. Ho has passed the ,ge of three score years and ten. His >ng hair and board are white and his orm is bont. There is a glitter, how- ver, in his sunken gray ejes. The tightness is unnatural,, and, when the ibssessor of the eyes becomes excited, here is apparent th<fjUvead^l She was a very clever young woman full of sparkling anecdote, and when the talk on the piazza ran on Kipling she smiled quizzically, says the N. Y! Times. "I have had a little tilt of my own with Mr. Kipling," she began, and everybody stopped to listen. "It came about in this way," she went on. "As I very much admired the concise wit of some of Mr. Kipling's scraps of verse used as mottoes for his tales I tried in various ways to find if they were parts of long poems. Not being able to do this in-America I at last decided to write to the young man himself. I did so, simply asking him to give my address to his English or Indian publishers that catalogues might be sent to me. To my surprise and pleasure I received a bright autograph^ letter from Mulvaney's creator, in which he said that the Verses were made up on the same principles as a druggist's prescription, to bo taken as required. "Now, it was very kind in Mr. Kipling to answer me personally, but he spoiled it all by adding a little fling to the effect that if he had written them my countrymen would have stolen them long ago and I would not have needed to apply to him. My American blood boiled within mo at this, and I could not refrain from a retort. I told him I disliked to paraphrase verses I admired, but I must turn on him with a parody of himself: '"We ain't no thin red 'eroos, but We ain't no blackguards too, But plain men after money, Most remarkable like you, 1 and that I don't believe publishers on his side of the pond wore much nearer 'plaster saints' than ours. The international copyright law had just gone into effect and I remarked that it would be Great Britain's own fault now if her writers wore not pjot^cted. "To this letter Mr. Kipling did not reply, although I have since heard from him indirectly. A man I know and whom I" had told of the correspondence, met him out west. Ho mentioned the incident and seemed to admire my 'impertinence' in answering. Tliis man, by tho way, characterizes him as 'all right; a groat deal better fellow than he looks and brighter than Max O'Rell." 1 Woman's Way. Wife—"Thomas, I wish you would let me have $50." Husband—"All right, my dear; here Is a hundred-dollar bill for you." Wife—"O, thank you, Thomas; but you forgot to pay me the 50 cents you borrowed of me the other day because you wore short of change."— Boston Gunette, Animal Signals. Seals" when basking place oae of their number on guard to give the 'alarm in case of danger. The signal is a quick dap of the flippers on a rock. Rabbits .signal witli their fore havw regular signals and calls. WIT AKD HUMOR. "WheMdld yon come from, butter, , . "Out of some milk was churned last year. "What was It pave thnt yellow hue? . "Colored tinth they put me through.' "Whftt Is it makes J-ouf price so deurl "Rise in the dairy products here. "Why are you wrapped in muslin thin? "That your pond money I may win. "What is it makes you Bfnpll aorsweet? ".Answerinir more is not discreet. "Fine gUt-cdgre butterl I'm the quoen, Best of all oleomargarine. 1 —Boston Transcript. With nil his practice the devil has never improved on the first hypocrite. — Ram's Horn. Men go down to the sea in ships, but they get over the bay in schooners. — Binghamton Leader. There are people who want religion* but they don't want enough to spoil them for anything else.— Hum's Horn. ' "We have no highway robbers now." "True; but we have plenty of fraternal endowment societies."— Boston Gazette. When man pictures a heaven for himself he.always has 'his own mansion right in th'e center of it.— Ham's Horn. , Nothing is more indicative of the selfish greed of man than the numerous pockets in his clothes. —Galveslon News. Cast your bread upon the water and you will have chicken soup such as they advertise in free lunch.— Hazleton Sentinel. "In order to live well." said the man who rejuvenates wearing apparel, "I must be careful to dye' well." — Washington Star. Johnson— "What are you saving your money for— next winter's amusements?" Thompson — "No, last winter's."— tf. Y. Herald. Dotley (who notes her black velvet ribbons) — "You are in half mourning?" Dorothy— "Yes, my half brother is dead." — Brooklyn Life., "Doctor, I wish you'd prescribe for my complexion." "Certainly, madam," returned the doctor, and he wrote: "Let it alone."— Tit-Bits. The. Italians may be a light-hearted enough people in their own country, but here it is common to find them in the dumps. — Texas Sif tings. The heresy case against Prof. Smyth has been reopened, but ID is hoped that the case against John Huss will be left closed.— Providence' Journal. She — "I wish it were the beginning of summer instead of the end." He — "I don't. We weren't engaged then." She — "I was." — Harpers Bazar. It has not yet occurred to the dictionary-makers to classify "phonograph" as a feminine noun simply because it talks \)&c\i.— Philadelphia Times. "Are you married or single?" asked the census-taker of the lady of the house. "Well, I hardly know," she replied; "you see the jury disagreed." —Life. If the coal combine is determined to advance prices every time the courts decide against it the people* will soon insist on a linal decision that will wipe it out.— Milwaukee Journal. "WelJ, do you regret the end of your summering", Alice?" "Very much. I had such a delightful time!" "What did you do mostly?" "Played solitaire with Jack." — Harpers Bazar. Why, Arduppe, how awfully thin you're looking!" "Yes, old fellow. You see, my present diet is a trifle lowering." "What are you living on?' "My wife's relations."— Funny Folks "By Jove," mused Willie Wishington, "ideas are gwoat things. But pwaps it's just as well not to have so many and so wun less wisk of beino- known as a cwank." — Washington Star. An esteemed contemporary prints the startling headline "Is Providence Prepared to Meet an Epidemic?" It now turns out, however, that the headline refers to Providence.K. I.— Detroit free Press. "Biggin's wife has the most perfect confidence in him." "0, every married man tells that sort of a storv." But she proves it. She lends him money to play poker with."— Indianapolis Journal. Duclt-leigh— "I like smart women well enough, but I wouldn't care to marry a woman who knew more than [ did." Rudeleigh— "And so you have :>een forced to remain single?"— Bos ton Transcript. Maizie— "I have a splendid chaperon." Ella-"Is that so?" Maizie— Yes. She flirts with each youn" man who arrives at the hotel, and if she hnds he has any fun in him she intro- dtices me." — Puck, Physicians say that during the cholera epidemic fruit should be avoided inless it is thoroughly cooked. It will be pretty tough if wo have to come down to eating boiled muskmelon.— Buffalo Commercial. I wish I were dead." "O, Jim, don't say such things!" "But I am desperate." "Well, say you wish you ,vere in Philadelphia." -But I am not that desperate."— Life. "I hope you appreciate the fact, sir, that in marrying my daughter you marry a large-hearted, generous "irl." J 10llo Al u ',{ wit1 . 1 "motion), and I "hope / . -••> ...... ~*«*v/vnju^, aim A nope inherits thoso qualities from her :atner."— Brooklyn Life. Mamma (to the professor, whoso ears have boon lacoratod for an hour) "Don't you think the dear child blould have her voice Iho Professor (g ' must smg."-A'«< e Jud g e-"0fiicor you cultivated?" —"Yes, if she fa Washington. „, --1 ,,-,••'-- sav this woman, when locked up, wa s drossod in non s attire?" OlliceV-"Yes, ^bit ilulii t suspect her sex until this ,imn ni " g iiy llo VV u was Atoning her hoos." "Ilow did you detect it tlTon?" She askod mo lor a hair-pin!"— Puck Judge Dur%-"You arc chared' vith stealing chickens; do you waft J nwvni-P" Mnur, u i ,, J - «»uv n wiywf Moso Snowball-"No ver lonah » Judge Durf 0 y_»Wliy noS» Snowball-"If it uloasH L "^ em."— Truth. The man who committed suicide h« >ause hie wife bore him i g'?l iniead i a boy must have been hopelVsslvin aaae. The sir! baby b W £T£?i£ Mrs! every time, ami when- old sh .1 does not send house, as the boy does.—/ Courier-JournaL The Janitof-«Hey! Git down the house as quick as you can!" Washington—"What is the The Janitor—"There's a ma the street.'! Mrs. Washington^"* it.can't get at me up here, can I The Janitor—"No; but the po is getting ready to shoot at it.' "I don't think that either and Reid or Cleveland and have any chance of election," said M« Snaggslast night. "Oh, you ' replied Snnggs, in his usual scornful] style. "No; I was in town this afterJ noon and the enthusiasm and the ban] ners all pointed to a strong feeling favor of Damon and Pythias." Guest—"I'd soon starve here." p ro prietor (country hotel) — "There'll plenty to eat." "Perhaps so.but tkosal waiter-girls of yours don't attend tol me." "They don't? Well, that's easl ily fixed. Here's some wax." "What! good is that?" "Put it on your mus'l tache, of course, and curl the ends! You've got too much of a married! look."— N. Y. Weekly. Q| Mrs. Peterby, who has heretofore! been very poor but just come into pos-l session of some money, went to Mosel Schaumburg's emporium for the pur-l pose of buying a silk dress for the tirstl time in her life. "1 dinks dot dis bat-l ern will choost suit you ven it vas not! too heavy for you. Dot vas very heavy! siluck," said Mose. "As far as thel weight of the silk is concerned," said! Mrs. Peterby, with groat dignity, "ifl it is too heavy for mu to carry you can! sond it to tho hoitsu in a delivery] wagon."— Tcxtis Siftinrjs. COMMODORE VANDERBILT'S DOLLAR.! Given to nil English Sailor Who Dived| Overboard Alter a Hat. J. L. Martin, of Toccoa, Ga., has inj his possession a silver dollar with an! interesting history, which is told byl the Atlanta Constitution. Sixteen years! ago an English sailor was stranded] here in thatextremely unpleasant con-l dition popularly known as being! "strapped." He wished to reach Chat-1 tanooga, Tenn., and had no means of I getting there, so he unfolded his talej of woe to Mr. Martiti and offered to I sell him his watch and his last dollar, which ho prized beyond its intrinsic value on account of the following circumstances connected with his receiving it: Old Commodore Vanderbiltl was once a passenger on the same ship I on which this sailor was employed,and I happened, while leaning over the side! of the vessel, to drop his tall silk hat into the water. The sailor,witnessing! tho accident, immediately jumped overboard and rescued the tile from a watery grave. The commodore heart-1 ily expressed his thanks to the man and gave him a dollar, which the sailor) had kept ever after as a souvenir. He finally parted with his watch and the cherished dollar to Mr. Martin in ex-1 change for a pair of shoes and his railroad fare to Chattanooga, requesting ] Mr. Martin to preserve the dollar, as ] he wished, when able, to redeem it. Sixteen years have passed, and Mr. Martin faithful to his promise, still I has the coin, the poor sailor never hav-1 ing returned to claim it. The dollar was coined in 1800 and i» | somewhat larger than the dollar now j in circulation and quite differentia appearance. The desifin on the obverse side is the bust of Liberty, fac- I ing to the right, above the word "Liberty" and beneath the date, 1800, with six stars to the right and seven to the left, representing the thirteen original states. On the reverse side is the "bird of freedom" bearing the United States shield on its breast, and in its beak a scroll inscribed, "E Pluribiis Unum," a bundle of thirteen arrows in the right talon and an olive branch in the left; above tho eagle are clouds and thirteen stars, and about the whole, "United States of America." The denomination of tho coin is given around the rim, like the tire of a wheel. Right in the Fashion. She was a tall, angular woman of fifty, in a plain, straight-waisted, calico dress, heavy shoes and a black straw hat with long streamers, and the younger and smaller woman with her patterned after her. They were evidently from tho headwaters of the creek, and the city was a novelty to them. They were ' also a novelty to tho city, and all unconsciously attracted the attention of everybody on Woodward avenue as they sauntered along looking in the windows and giving vent to their delight in various exclamations. Finally a city girl passed thorn, wearing the lato'st, and the elderly woman saw her. She gazed a moment in open-mouthed amazement and caught tho other woman by the arm. "By gravy, Sallie, do you see that?" she exclaimed. Sallio's eyes followed her linger ana she nodded. "We ain't up with the porcession,air we?" she asked, doubtfully, as sha surveyed her attire. Sallio shook her head sadly. "Come on," exclaimed the elderly woman suddenly, and catching th». young one by tho hand she started for a goiits' furnishing store across the street and wont in with a whirl. "Young man," sho said to a clork, "have you got any galluses for twen-- ty-live cents a pair that'll lit mo and Sallio hero?" Fii'tcon minutes later there were not' two prouder women on Wood war* avenue, and surely no two who wpr* BO iiiuuli tho observed of all observers.— Detroit Free. Press. . lie Hud tho Idea. A Londoner who had lately takoiv lodgings this side tho pond is greatly surprised at tho latch-key , bargjiiii-. offered him. "It was very chooky. i'lioy uskod mo for 26 pouts for tlie ko>," ho says, "and I explained («• tuoiu that I. "took Iho koy merely W- tmvo their servants' timo in coming w~ tho door. I don't mind standing ttWft ringing tho bell. So tlioy B8W5- N wvo * miud, tho quarter.' "• ,;» ,*s.tei ;

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