The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on November 29, 1893 · Page 3
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The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 3

Algona, Iowa
Issue Date:
Wednesday, November 29, 1893
Page 3
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THE MOtNES ALGCXSA IOWA 20, im LldMf OP HER Golden face that human sorrow May not touch nov make less f'Alt. |, ^SC/iiSter from you let i«6 borrow, Sunbeams that shall banish caro. > All the grief of all my years In yO(i? presence disappears Dear, delightful, darn blue eyes 1 Life seemed like an autumn day. Hope, was as a flame that dtps. Till you shown across my way; But when your great glory broke 'O'er my life, this love awoke. Love of you now conquers grief, Love of you makes life again; y. As a fading woodland leaf Shines in sunlight after rain, So the realm of my distress Wears a how and radiant dress. : "t Ah! but shall I keep the boon? t 1 Will you always be to me Stars of morning, suns of noon, Lamps that bid the darkness flee? DOarost eyes, I know your light Will content me till the ni^ht. —Percy Plnkerton. MISADVENTURES OF JOHN NICHOLSON, BY KOBKKT LOUIS STEVENSON. CHAPTER VI—CONTINUED. He grasped his forehead, and staring on one spot of gravel, pieced to- .getlier what ho know and what he suspected. Alan had murdered some •one: possibly "that man" against •whom the butler chained t,ho door in Regent's Terrace: possibly another; .some one at least: a human soul, whom it was possible to slay and whoso blood lay spilllocl upon tho floor. This was tho reason of the > whiskey drinking in the passage, of "his unwillingness to welcome John, of his strange behavior and bewildered 'words; this was why he had started >.at and harped upon tho name of mur- |'der; this was why ho had stood and hearkened, or sat and covered his eyes, in the black night,. And now lie was gone, now he had basely fled; and io ^all his perplexities and dangers 'John stood heir. Let me think—let me think," he .said aloud, impatiently, even pload- .ngly, as if to some merciless inter- 'upter. In the turmoil of his wits, a ^thousand hints and hopes and threats and terrors dinning' continuously in his ears, ho was like one plunged in $he hubbub of a crowd. How was he Jjfco remember—ho, who had not a '{thought to spare—that he himself as the author, as well as the theater, if &o much confusion? But in hours of trial tho junto of man's nature is tlis&olved, and anarchy succeeds. It was plain he must stay no longer Iwhere he was, for hero was a new (Judicial Error in the very making. 'It was not so plain where he must go, for the old Judicial Error, vague as a jbloud, appeared to fill the habitable ivorld; whatever it might be, it iwatched for him, full-grown, in Eding; it must have had its birth in |San Francisco; it stood guard, no 'fioubt, like a dragon, at the bank here he should cash his credit; and ihough there were doubtless many [Other places, who should say in which of them it was not ambushed? No, b.0 could not tell whore he was to go; >hei must not lose time on these insolu- bilities. Lot him go back to tho beginning. It was plain, too, that he must not flee as ho was, for ho could not carry his portmanteau and to flee and leave it was to plunge deeper in tlio mire. Ho must go, leave the toou'jo unguarded, lind a cab, and return—return after an absence? Hud !ihe courage for that? And just then he spied a stain-about i'a band's breadth on his trouser-leg, and reached his finger clown to touch it. The finger was stained reel; it was Wood; he stared upon it with disgust, and awe, and terror, and in .the sharpness of the new sensation foil instantly to act. He cleansed his linger in tho snow, pro turned into the house, drew near " with hushed footsteps to the clining-- vfom door, und shut and locked it. 1'non he breathed a little freer, for hero at least was an oaken barrier between himself and what ho feared. Next, ho hastened to his room, tore oft' tho spotted trousers which seemed in his eyes a link to bind him to tho gallows, Hung- them in a corner,dc-nncd another pair, breathlessly crammed his night thing-.s into his portmanteau; locked it, swung- it with an effort from the ground and with a rush of relief, came forth again under the open heavens. The portmanteau, being- of occidental build, was no feather-weight; it had distressed the powerful Alan; and as for John, he was crushed under its bulk, and tho sweat broke upon him thickly. Twice he must set it 'down to rest before he reached the gate; and when he had come so far, 'be must do as Alan did, and take his •neat upon one corner. Here, then, he sat awhile and panted; but now his thoughts were sensibly lightened; now, with the trunk standing just inside the door, some part of his dissociation from the house of crime had been effected, and the cabman need ,not pass the garden wall. It was 'wonderful how that relieved him; for the house, in his eyes, was a place to strike the most cursory beholder with ^suspicion, as though the very windows j,,had cried murder. But there was to he no remission of the strokes of fate. As he thus sat, taking breath in the shadow of the wall and hopped about by sparrows, ,it chanced that his eyo roved to the fastening of the door; and what he saw plucked him to his feet. Tho thing locked with a spring; once tho •d'oor was closed, the bolt shot of itself; and without u key, there was no means of entering from without. He saw himself obliged to one of two distasteful and perilous alternatives; either to shut the door altogether and se-t his portmanteau out upon tho wayside, a wonder to all beholders; or to leave the door ajar, so that any thievish tramp or holiday '.school-boy might stray in and stumble the g«sjy eecr^;, To the last, as the least d( t'pcrato, his mind inclined; but he mua t first insure himself that he was unobserved. Ho peered but and down the long- road; it lay dead empty. He went to the corner of the by-road that comes by way of Dean; there also not a passenger was stirring. Plainly it was, now or never, the high tide of his affairs; and he drew the door as close as he durst, slipped a pebble in the chink, and made off downhill to find a cab. Half-way down a gate opened, and u troop of Christmas children sallied forth in the- most cheerful humor, followed more soberly by a smiling mother. "And this is Christmas dayt" thought John; and could have laughed aloud in tragic bitterness of heart. CHAPTER VII. A Tragi-Comedy in a Cab. In front of Donaldson's hospital, John counted it fortunate to perceive a cab a great way off, and by much shouting and waving of his arm to catch the notice of the driver. He counted it good fortune, for tho time was long to him till he should have done forever with the Lodge; and the further he must go to find a cab, the greater the chance that the inevitable discovery had taken place, and that he should return to find the garden full of angry neighbors. Yet when the vehicle drew up he was sensibly chagrined to recognize the port-wine cabman of the night before. "Here," ho could not but reflect, "here is another link in the Judicial Error." Tho driver, on the other hand, was pleased to drop again upon so lioeral a fare; and as ho was a man—tho reader must already have perceived— of easy, not to say familiar manners, he dropped at once into a vein of friendly talk, commenting on tho weather, on the sacred season, which struck him chiefly in the light of a day of liberal gratuities, on the chance which had reunited him to a pleasing- customer, and on tho fact that John had been (as ho was pleased to call it) visibly "on tho randan" the night before. The jarvey was finally prevailed upon to clamber to his place and drive, with hideous deliberation,-to the door of tho Lodge. There were no signs as yet of any public emotion; only, two men stood not far off in talk, and their presence, seen from afar, set John's pulses buzzing. He might have spared himself his fright, for the pair wei-e lost in some dispute of a theological complexion, and with lengthened upper lip and enumerating fingers, pursued the matter of their difference and paid no heed to John. But the cabman proved a thorn in the flesh. Nothing- would keep him on his perch; ho must clamber down, comment upon the pebble in the door (which he regarded as an ingenious but unsafe device), help John with the portmanteau, and enliven matters with a flow of speech, and especially of questions, which I thus condense: "He'll be here himself, will he? No? "Well he's an eccentric man— of fair oddity—if ken the expression. Great trouble with his tenants, they tell mo. I've driven tho family for years. I drove a cab at his father's woddin'. What'll 'your name be?—I should ken your face. Baigroy, ye say? There were Baigreys aboutGil- merton; ye'll lie one of that lot? Then this'll be a friend's portmantio, like? Why? Because the name upon it's Nucholson! Oh, if yo'ro in a hurry, that's another job. Waver Brig'? Are ye far away?" So tho friendly toper prated and questioned and kept John's heart in a flutter. But to this also, as to other evils under tho sun, there came a period; and tho victim of circumstances began at last to rumble toward tho railway terminus at Wavorly bridge. During- tho transit, ho sat with raised glasses in tho frosty chill and mouldy fetor of his chariot, and glanced out sidelong- on tho holiday face of things, tho shuttered shops, and tho crowds along- tho pavement, much as the rider in tho Tyburn cart may have observed tho concourse gathering to his execution. At tho station his spirits rose again; another stage of his escape was fortunately ended—ho began to spy blue water. Ho called a railway porter, and bade him carry tho portmanteau to tho cloak room; not that ho had any notion of delay; flight, instant flight, was his design, no matter whither; but he had determined to dismiss tho cabman ere ho named, or even chose, his destination, thus possibly balking the Judicial Error of another link, This was -his cunning- aim, and now, with one foot on the roadway and one still oh the coach- stop he made haste to put the thing in practice, and plunged his hand into his trousers' pocket. There was nothing there! Oh, yes; this time he was to blame. Ho should have remembered, and when he deserted his blood-stained pantaloons he should not have deserted them along with his purse. Make the most of his error, and then compare it with' the punishment! Conceive his new position, for I lack words to picture it. Conceive him condemned to return to that house, from the very thought of which his soul revolted, and once more to expose himself to capture on the very scone of his misdeed. Conceive him linked to the moldy cab and the familiar cab man. John cursed the cabman silently, and then it occurred to him that he must stop the incai'ceration of his portmanteau. That, at least, he must keep close at hand, and he turned to recall the porter. But his reflections, brief as they had appeared, must have occupied him. longer than he supposed, for there was the man already returning with the receipt. Well, that was settled. He had lost his portmanteau, also, for the sixpence with, which, he had paid tha Murrayfiold toll was one that had strayed alone into his waistcoat pricket, and unless he once more- successfully achieved tho adventure of the house of crime his portmanteau lay in tno cloak-rooin in eternal pawn, for- lack of a penny foe. And then he remembered the portftr, who stood suggestively attentive, words of gratitude hanging on his lips. johi hwi'fjod ri|;hu and left. He found «« coin—pray id God that it was a sovereign—drew it out, beheld a halfpenny, and offered it to the porter. The man's jaw dropped. "It's only a halfpenny!" he said, startled out of railway decency. > ' 'I know that," said John, piteously-, And here the porter recovered the dignity of a man. "Thank you, sir," said he, a»d would hftve returned the base gratuity. But John, too, would none of it, and as they struggled, who must join in hut the cabman! "Hoots, Mr. Baigrey," said he; "you surely forget what day it is?" "I tell you I have no change!" cried John. "Well," said tho driver, and what then? I would rather give a man a shillin' on a day like this than put him off with a derision like a bawboo. I'm surprised at the like of you, Mr. Baigrey!" "My name is not Baigrey!" broke out John, in more childish temper and distress. "Ye told mo it was yoursel'," said the cabman. "I know I did; and what the devil right had you to ask?" cried the unhappy one. "Oh, very well," said tho driver. "I know my place if you know yours —if you know yours!" ho repeated, as one who should imply grave doubt, and muttered inarticulate thunders, in which tho grand old name of gentleman was taken seemingly in vain. Oh, to have been able to discharge this monster whom John now perceived, with tardy clear sightoclness, to have begun betimes the festivities of Christmas! But far from any such ray of consolation visiting tho lost, ho stood bare of help arid helpers, his portmanteau sequestered in one place, his money deserted in another, and guarded by a corpse; himself, BO sedulous of privacy, the cynosure of all men's eyes about tho station; and, as if these were not enough mis- chances, he was now fallen in ill-blood with the beast to whom his poverty had linked him! In ill-blood, as he reflected dismally, with tho witness who perhaps might hang or save him! There was no time to be lost. He durst not linger any longer in that public spot; and whether he had recourse to dignity or to conciliation, the remedy must bo applied at once. Some happily surviving clement of manhood moved him to the former. "Let us have no more of this,"said he, his foot once more upon tho step. "Go back to whore we came from." Ho had avoided the name of any destination, for there was now quite a little band of railway folk about the cab, and ho still kept an eyo upon tho court of justice, and labored to avoid concentric evidence. But here again tho fatal jarvey outma- nouvercd him. "Back to tho Ludgo?" cried he, in shrill tones of protest. "Drive on at once!" roared John, and slammed the door behind him, so that tho cimy chariot rocked and •jingled, [TO BE CONTINUED.] OUR WIT AND HtlMOft. GENIUS AND CREASE. '.'»lio Comnarutlvo Earnings or Tcmohora und ConkH. A year or two ago there was printed a list of questions concerning domestic Borvico in the United States. They were prepared by Miss Lucy Salmon, tho professor of history at Vassal- college. Among other interesting facts gleaned from tho answers to those questions which have lately boon made public are those: By a comparison made between tho wages received by teachers in the public schools of Cambridge and cooks in tho neighboring city, Boston, it is found that 50 per cent of the teachers in the former city earn $620 a year. If the very small sum of $285 wore deducted for board for one year, this would leave a balance of $835 for clothing, travel, books, lectures, charity, pew rent and the inevitable rainy day. Tho average wages of the Boston cook, are, according to 574 returns, $4.45 weekly, or 231.40. As the cook has no outlay for food, fuel, light or laundry expenses, it is estimated that this added money value would amount to $275 and bring her wages up to $506.50. The difference in tho amount of the teacher after paying necessary expenses, and that of the cook, who has no such outgo, would therefore be only $103. The teacher must dress better, as becomes her position; she must attend lectures to keep in touch with improved methods; she is urged to subscribe from her pittance to journals of oducation.hasstreetcar faro to pay in stormy weather. By comparing two of the tables in the report it is seen that the Boston cook is probably in possession of more money at the end of the year than the averag-e teacher in Albany, Atlanta, Baltimore, New Orleans, Patterson, Rochester and Syracuse. The K;i(;inau'3 Cry. The ragman's prolonged and somewhat doleful cry, which used to bo heard more frequently than at present in our streets, has its prototype in Genoa, from whic.h it came directly to tllis country. CURRENT PRODUCTION* THE FUNNY CM? Aft- Illustrated itnmor Done- by fi l»t* — A Seetio from Soutli Afviran Ufat faro — Pen Pictures- ot lite Eveey- ivlioro. You ttopo for Young Poetfli Peddler—One moment, please are a poet, I arn told. Scribbler— Y-e-s, but I—er—have not published very jriueh of my wo»k aa yet. "Exactly. That's why I called." "Eh? Are you a publisher? 1 ' "No, sir; I am general agent for one- of the greatest money-saving 1 inventions of the age." "Urn—I would certainly lik» money." "Yes, that's it, and I've got the thing 1 to e*nab'e you to do it. It's a little rubber stamp with tha words 'Decined with 'J hanks,' on it. Ymi, write Your poem, put it in an. envelope, slip in a piece of paper with those words on it, address the envelope to yourself, open the envelope, read the slip, dump the whole business in Ihe waste basket—and there you are. Sfou'll save ten times its cost in post- stamps every week " An Unpleasant Situation. Stranger— You still have lyn<Jhtflfi here, do you? , Westerner-— Only in the case of bad characters. When a fairly good citizen gets arrested for anything, we always let the law take its course. "That's encouraging." "Yes, you see an average jury can always be depenrled upon to hang a good citizen if it gets a chance." licgntt Work at Once. Fond Mother— And so my little angel joined the Littl- Defenders to-day, and will always b i kind to dumb animals. Little Angel— -Yes'm. Comin' home I met a mau wif a bag full of kretens 'at he was going to drown, and he promised to bring them here for us to be kind to. Cousin Kate — Sue, what ever in,-- duced you to marry that 'Squire? gue— J wajnte4 juf A Oolitnn Rtilo Tor Auntie — Do you find your lessons hard? Little Nephew— Some of them is; bur, spel ; in' and pronunciation is easy. "They are?" "Ycs''m. All you hns to do is to pronounce words the way they isn't *n»lled, and spell 'eiu some way they n t pronounced." A J'rnctlpttl Uttlo Miss. Little G'rl — Mamma, we is goin' to itivo a church iair, to get money for ,he heathen. Mamma — That's a lovely idea, my ngel: but what can you get to sell'.' Li tie Uirl -- Oil, wu is groin' to have ihe people bring their own things, an' sell them to theirselvcs. an' give us the money. — Street it Smith s Clood News. Itrirnl Adviintnsos. Stranger — I understand that there lias never been a court case in this neighborhood The people here must ao very peaceable. Farmer Waybauk — Tain't that: but you see the s-qnire lives so far away, that, by the time wn Brit there we for- jit what we was quarreliu' about. A Western ISroezc. Easterner — Do you do any yachting out west? \Vcsterncr-Oh, yes. On our lakes and rivers. I had a yacht bub it blow away. "Why didn't you follow and get it back? ' "Hadn't any balloon." Ita holds three of a kind, but he Isn't pleased a bit A ThouKlitlCHS Sinter. Mrs. Getthcre — Such impudence! Here's sister Matilda proposing to come here with both ^of her children and make us a long visit, Mr. G.—But you f^pent half the summer at her home in the country and you had four children and a nurse. Mrs. G.—A different thing altogether. She has no servants, but she knows perfectly well that we have, aeveral and that every one of them will get mad and leave if the family is increased. Cause for Grief. Mother—What's the matter? Small Son—lioo-hoo! Johnny Spnr- ter was goin' to lend me his bicycle everyday when he got his rew one, and now it's all smashed up lie ran into a sto—stone wall, lioo-hoo- oo! Mother—That's t o bud. Was he hurt any? Small Son—No'm. The doctor said he never knew what killed him. , Horn Too iMte. Lit'le Ethel (laying down a book)— "Do princes always dress- in silk an' velvet and wear a cap with ft white f oath or, an' ride a swoet little white pony? Mother—Not now, my pet, They dress, just like other boys. Little Ethel (badly)—Then I guess I'll never marry. Needn't I!o Chummy. Old Bramble—Want to raurry my daughter, do you? Lot me say, sir, that you are not exactly the. sorb of a man I would like for a son-in-law. Young Gentleman—Well, you are not the sort of a man 1 would like foi a father-in-law; but, then, you know, we needn't be chummy unless we want to. Kwisiblo Yachting Contumo. Young Lady—Have you bathing suits hero? Waterman—Yes, mum. Young Lady—And cork life-preservers? Waterman—Yes, mum. Going sailing- with some o' these young city chaps, I s'pose, mum. Not a KacliiK Mast. Yachtsman (angrily)—That mast you sold me is a fraud. Boat Builder—Eh? What's wrong with it? Yachtsman—\Vhen we found we were going to be beaten we Iried to make the mast break, and it wouldn't. You've Innocent Enough. Mother—Phew! Horrors! been smoking. Little Boy—Only corn silk. Mother—The odor is abominable. Little Boy—Yes'm. Corn silk smells worse than tobacco, but it's only corn eilk.—Good News. Fooled t» TrlHe. Excited Hen—Cut-cut-.cut, cut-cut, cut-cut-cut-cu -cut! Farmer—Git offi'n thar, whoever yer be. The team's got all it kin haul a'ready.—Puck. A Careful, lioy. Mother—How in the world did you get your coat sleeves so dirty? Little Boj-rWf JWa' 'cross the pudi Tier IMMluotion. Mrs. 'Dings—Mrs. Nexdoor told me you cnco wnntcd to marry that Miss Upton, bhe wouldn't have you, I presume. Mr. Bings—Did Mrs. Kexdoor say Miss Upton refused me? Mrs. llings—No, she merely remarked that Miss Upton had always been a very sensible girl. A Thoughtful AVliooluian. Farmer Wayback (seeing a pneumatic tire for the first time)—Wall, now, that there bicycler has a heart in his bosom. I s'pose it don't hurt folks much to be run over by one of them soft things, Cold Comfort. Miss Prettie—Why didn't you tell me my hair was in such a state? Lord Nabob must have noticed it. Miss Beautie—No need to worry, my dear. I am sure he didn't see it. Ho didn't once look at you. Ilor Mnjonty'a Boa Observatory. Gen. Wobley — Touch him up a bit, Suliman: — li.t's see wlmt's over tho brow of that hill. — "Xulus, by .love! Signal back to camp, quick!" — 1'uck. All Thing* L'BofuI. Little Dot (to her doll) — Now re< member, Dollie, the sun is to make us warm, and the rain is to make things grow, and the thunder is to — to —I guess that's to scare little children into tho house so they won't get their feets wet. _ lioth Uueful nud Ornamental. Mother — I don't see that you learned anything either useful or ornamental at that sel.ool last year. Pretty Daughter — Oh, but you don't know. For ono thing-, I learned how to make my shoe-lace come unlied whenever 1 wish. Miss Beenthere — You evidently enjoyed Miss I'rettie's conversation this evening. Mr. Wearie — Yes. She hasn't been to the World's Fair, An Kxperlenoed Scribbler. Mr. Longhair—Is the editor in? Onice B y—Yessir. Mr. Longhair—Well—er—I'll call again when he is out. I have a poem to submit to him. The Klvnlf. Mr. Richfello—Miss Beaut'e's shoelace came unfastened, and she let me tie it. Miss Prettie—Yes, she wears such tight cursets she can't stoop. A Uopelean.Case. Friend—Perhaps you could frighten your wife into treating you better if you'd threaten to commit suicide. Mr. llenn-Peck—No use. fche'dgive me Hail Columbia if I didn't. • Abilities. Jack Tarr—Ye mightn't believe it, but whales have a very small mouth. Landsman—-Yes, I've heard they wouldn't even be able to swallow half the stories that are told about Si}fo Until Spring;. He—J am going west to seels jay fortune, Will you wait for me? "til-' T«J A »^ T will T!1 1 ™«S* -11 the lovlfltf Sportn«rs Itnv* A tilt ot «l tilt About n ReiojtMdfl. ! She had thrown herself on th«couch and had shed groat, salt tears. on the handsome cushion she owned. In this condition her deafest Meiidi had found her when she ran in,,t»i ask her opinion concerning ,th6 Sn* tentions of a certain young man.. "Why, Laura, what is itP"' she- cried. "Has a burglar taken \ all your wedding presents, or has George • been trying to make you uhdet'stttrtd base-ball?" "Neither. He-he called Spooner 1 this morning." "Well, but that is your "So it 1st but—well, I'll just tell you all about it, and then you will never, never be foolish enough to marry." "Mercy. Perhaps you'd bettor not tell mo, then." "Oh, yes, I must tell somebody. Besides, as my cook is your 'house maid's sister you'll be sure to hear of it anyhow." "Well, dear, tell me if it is any relief. 1 once trumped George's aoft when we were playing partners ab 1 euchre, and I know he has a temper." "Well, it began yesterday morning when I found tho invitations to the Van Sunblotz reception, in George's waste-basket?" „ "In the waste-basket?" "Yes; after I had been wondering why they did'nt come< I wanted especially to go because George's married sister was dying to go and was, not asked — there's nothing like, teaching your husband's relatives, their places at once ( my dear. Well, when I found the invitations I knew that George had hidden them, for I hoard him giggling tho evening before and telling that horrid Teddy, that it was too hot to wear a dress 3oat." "You didn't think Teddy was horrid before you were married. Bub what excuse did George make for putting the invitations in the wastebasket?" "But he used to come to see me then, not my husband, Oh. George isid ho tnoughtthey wore circulars." "Hump!" "Of course I said wo must go, and ho had to agree, though I could see. lie was furious. Well, he spoiled, bhroo ties in dressing,, and complained bitterly just because my pink tea, £own was hanging o.ver his dress, coat." "What did you say? 1 " "Oh, I just called in pleasantly that as it Was raining tho dampness would take the wrinkles out." "How lovely in you not to foe an- jrry." "Oh, yes; I seldom lose my temper with him. It makes him angrier if I am amiable. But ho was so mean that he wouldn't button my gloves and 1 had to do it myself, when thet'e, were thirty-two buttons on them." "How moan. Why ho used " "Yos. indeed, he used to do it if there wore only four. But I got oven." "Hew? Do tell mo." "Oh, 1 told him his ears wore awfully red and there was a smudge on hia tie. Then I sighed and said I hoped Ralph would be there—hd was always so well dressed. That made him mad, and ho turned tho gas jot on the window curtain and burned a great hole. I got angry then and said I would rr't go." ..; "It served him just right, he " "Oh, but he said that was just what ho \vauted, theti I felt it due to my bwli self-respect to go." ; "Of course, it would novel 1 " : "Well, wo sat down with our backs to each other to wait for the carrJapo< After half an hour ho jumped up ex:-* claiming, 'Good gracious! I forgot to order one!' " "What a.shame!" "Wasn't it? We have no telephone and ho had to walk iivo blocks to got a carriage. While ho was gone I decided to arrange my hair in another stylo, so 1 wasn't ready when they came, und it was awfully late when we got started." "But your troubles were over then?" "Well, not exactly, for you see I had made a mistake in the date, and tho reception was not to bo had until this evening." A Siitlxfiiutory lOxpliinlitldll, Judge Lowry, of North Carolina, was a most learned judge who, while a practitioner at tho bar, unexpectedly lost a case for a client who was a justice of the peace, and in his own opinion a very learned one. The judge was at a loss how to explain tho cauae satisfactorily to him when they met, but he did it as followst "Squire,! could not explain it exactly to an ordinary man, but to an intelli-. gent man like you, who are so well posted in law and law phrases, I need only say that the judge said that the case was coram non judice." "Ah'" said tho client, looking very wisa and drawing a long breath, "if things had got into that fix, Mr. Lowry, j think we did very well to get out o| it as easy as we did."—Argonaut. A Model Servant Girl. "Mrs. Jones is one of the happiest women of my acquaintance." "Has a kind husband I suppose?" "Yea, she has a kind husband, but it is not that fact that makes hot happy all the time." "No?" "No, she has a servant girl who/ lets her do as she }ikos." ,\ lln|i|iy i'iioujjht. Father, to the 7-year-old miss beside him, cutting the whip sharply through the air—See Mary hpw J make • the horse go- faster without • Striking him at all. Mary, in an, eagev tone of hajipy disoovery- r -Pap% you gp^nk u<j w

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