THE CHARLOTTE MESSENGER.
VOL. 111. NO. 38
THE
Charlotte Messenger
IS PUBLISHED
Every Saturday,
AT
CHARLOTTE, N. C.
In the Interests of the Colored People
of the Country.
A hie and well-known writerti will contrib
ute to its columns from different parts of the
country, nnd it will contain the latest Gen
oral News of the day.
Thf. Messenger is a first-class newspaper
and will not allow personal abuse in its col
umns. It is not sectarian or partisan, but
independent—dealing fairly by all. It re
servee the right to criticise the shortcomings
of all public officials—commending the
worthy, and recommending for election euch
men as in its opinion are best suited to serve
the interests of the people.
Tt is intended to supply the long felt need
of a newspaper to advocate the rights and
defend the interests of the Negro-Amerirsn,
especially in the Piedmont section of the
f'arolinas.
SUBSCRIPTIONS:
(Always m Advanct.)
I year - *1 SO
b months - - - 100
months ... 75
■4 months - - 50
S months - - - 40
Address,
W.C. SMITH, Charlotte NC,
A bill recently passed the Tennessee
Senate granting a pension of ten dollars
a month to Confederate and Federal sol
diers who have lost the use of their eyes.
Fn the House it was amended, the amount
being increased to twenty-five dollars a
month and made available to those who
lost both legs or both arms, or the use of
»hem, while engaged in active service in
either Ihe Union or Confederate armies,
and who do not receive a pension from
the Federal government.
The Boston Courier thinks “some in
genious lawyer might turn an honest
penny into larger coin by publishing a
handbook of the abusive things a man
may say to or of his enemy without in
curring the penalty of the statute of li
bels. It is said to be allowable to call a
man a crank, but suppose one called his
adversary an alderman or any term of
similarly deep opprobrium, what then?
Many a man with a very pretty talent for
interpretation is living a hampered and
unfruitful existence in consequence of
painful doubts as to what he may or may
not say. A tabulated statement of the
epithets explicitly or by implication al
io w-ed by the law, would relieve and
guide these perplexed and harrassed
spirits,and be of inestimable value in pro
moting the well being of society in gen
eral, since the anger which expends itself
in words is not left to smoulder into ran
corous deed and to substitute for the
harmless wounds of the tongue injuries
more potent and enduring.”
General Boulanger has retaliated upon
Bismarck, who has begun to Germanize
Alsace and Lorraine by suppressing all
French societies that exclude Germans
from membership, and making the study
of German obligatory in the public
schools. Boulanger has forbidden all
officers of the French army to employ
any German servants, male or female, or
as governesses or tutors. The occasion
of this order is the discovery that tho
governess of the children of General
Davonet, commanding the Fourteenth
arinv corps at Lyons, is the wife of a
Prussian officer who was murdered on
the frontier. A London correspondent
writes that Boulanger feared that the
governess might be prompted by patriot
ism to prowl about at night making
maps of forts and drawings of repeating
rifles. Only a short time ago Germany
was highly indignant because toy school
manufactured in France and sold
to German children, had maps upon the
walls on which Alsace and Lorraine were j
represented as being parts of France. But j
all these straws indicate the direction of |
the wind.
A writer in the Journal of Man, pub
lished in Boston, holds that “the attain
able limits of human longevity arc gener
ally underrated by the medical profession
ami by popular opinion.” “Instead of ■
the ttcriptural limit of ‘ threescore and!
ten.” hr says, “I would estimate twice
that am- not, or 140 years, as the ideal
ag? of healthy longevity, when mankind
‘hall have l*>en bred and trained with the
same w ise energy that has been expended
on horses and cattle. Os the present
scrub raee, a very large number ought
never to have been born, and ought not
to be allowed to transmit their physical i
and moral deficiencies to posterity.”
This estimate, he insists, is sustained by
the number of jicrsons of the age of 140
found in Italy under a census by one of j
the Roman Emperors. It is Aided, more- ;
over, by the uum!>cr of persons in this j
countryy who have passed the century !
limit. 7
TO MOTHER.
In m\i heart a tender song
Has been sounding very lon*,
For Its tones so wondrous sweet
Were tho first my ears to greet,
And shall be the last to roll
Over my departing soul;
j It was heard in hours of pain
Borne in patience for my gain,
It was sung to hush my cries,
It was shown in loving eyes,
It was taught my lisping tongue,
And I would it might bo sung
Sweet as angel? sing above—
The pure song of mother’s love!
Mother’s love! Oh, who shall measure
All the meanings this may treasure?
Weary years of toil and sorrow,
Hopes the sinking heart would borrow,
Prayer? that rise through seas of tears,
Fond devotion fringed with fears,
Self-denial, asking none,
Faith, whose course is never run—
Mother's love! it never quails,
Till at last the great soul fails,
And the trembling hands are dropped,
And the dauntless heart is stopped!
Then in vain regi*et we pine
For that mother’s love divine
Omy mother! now to you
May my gratitude be true.
Summer has been full of storm,
Winter now enfolds your form,
And your head begins to show
Traces of the failing snow,
Yet would I each care erase
From that dear familiar face,
Bring your eyes the happy glow
Os your childhood long ago,
Be one child who did not • vait
To return before too late
Mother's love, kiss, and caress,
All her latest days to bless.
—Richard L Dawson, in the Current.
“OLD MRS. COLE."
BY S. A. WEISS.
‘‘"Well, I <lo declare, Mrs. Stcbbius!
So you’ve been up to Barnville, and never
let a soul of us know about it?"’
“Oh,’’ said Mrs. Stebbins, as she
alighted from a wagon at her own door,
and shook hands with Miss Naylor, who
happened to lie passing, “you se.e, 1 only
went for a day nnd a night, so didn't
think it worth while to advertise it on the
church-door! I wanted to buy some dry
goods and kitchen things, and they’re
cheaper in Barnville than in a little place
like this. And besides, there’s my niece,
Maria, whom I hadn’t seen since her last
baby was born, and she and the baby both
in poor health. So I thought I might as
well go up, and so kill two birds with
one stone.”
“To-be-sure! And how did you find
Maria and the baby? And how* are all
the folks in Barnville?”
“Well, I was glad to find them two
looking pretty smart and spry; and as for
the rest. I didn’t hear of anybody being
6ick or in trouble, unless ’twas old Mrs.
Cole.”
“Ah! So old Mrs. Cole's sick?" said
Miss Naylor, with a look of aroused inter
est. “And what is it ails her this time?”
“Why, nothing much, I reckon. I did
hear Marin holler to little Betty Cole, and
ask how her gran’ma was to-day; and she
said ’bout the same as yesterday. Maria
asked if the fever was gone down; but
just then Jeems came in to dinner, so I
didn’t hear the rest, and forgot to ask
Maria about Mrs. Cole.”
“Well, well! I’m soiry to hear she’s
sick, poor soul! for she's a good woman,
and we can’t easy afford to spare such.
But she’s well on in years, and I’ve been
yuther expectin’ to hear of her being took
down, considerin’ she’s over sixty. But
law me! I musn’t keep you standin’ here
in the street, and you just come home.
Good-by! and depend upon me for cornin’
round soon to see what pretty things
you’ve brought.” *
With this Miss Naylor turned away,
and with her basket on her arm pro
ceeded to the store for a supply of groce
ries.
There she found Mrs. Brown, the house
carpenter’s wife, engaged in cheapening
calico.
“You ain’t as smart as Miss Stebbins,”
said Miss Naylor, as the two critically
examined the qualit yof the calico. "She's
been up to Barnville, and laid in a lot of
dry-goods and things, for the sake of
saving about twenty-five cents or so. For
my part, I go for encouraging home
trade.”
“Well, I don’t know.” Mrs. Brown re
stiled,f tiled, doubtfully. “Seems to me cvcry
tody’s bound to look out for their own
j interest, and I confess I’d be willing to
go a little out o’ the way to save twenty
: live cents. But what did Sally Stebbins
say was the news in Barnville?”
“Nothing, except that old Miss Cole’s
down with fever. Miss Stebbins said she
was no better when she left. She's over
sixty, and I wouldn’t be surprised to hear
| of her death any minute.”
“I wonder if John Cole’s wife knows
l of it? She ought to be told, for her hus
band’s mother was second cousin to old
Mrs. Cole, and they’ve got the same
family name, and always been friendly.
If she dies, they’ll of course go to the
funeral, as they did when the old man
died, four years ago. ”
Then Miss Naylor turned to the grocer
ies, and Mrs. Brown, having concluded
her bargain by persuading the merchant
to take a basket of dried apples in part
payment for his goods, left the store and
took her way homeward, well pleased.
Meeting a neighbor on the way, the
two Stopped to exchange greetings and
inquire the news.
"That reminda me,” aaid Mrs. Brown,
promptly. ‘Tve jest this minute parted
from ’Liza Naylor, and she told me that
•he’d aeen Mrs. Stebbins, who’s iest from
Barnville, and left old Mr». Cole as low
CHARLOTTE, N. C. SATURDAY, APRIL 2, 1887.
as could be with fever. ’Lizn said they
were every minute expecting her death,
and she’s no doubt gone by this time,
I poor soul. She thinks Jane Cole will go
to the funeral, if she knows of the old
lady’s death.”
“Why, of course, they ought to send a
message and let ’em know,” replied Mrs.
MUlef. “They’re their own kin, though
hot very nigh; and nat'rally they’d go to
ihe funeral.”
Mrs. Miller turned aside two squares to
speak to Fanny Bates, Mr. John Cole’s
wife’s sister. Miss Bates was seated at.
her window sewing, and Mrs. Miller
called to her:
“Say, Fanny, does your sister Cole
know that old Sirs. Cole of Barnvillc’s
dead?"
“Dead? Good gracious! you don’t say
soi” said Miss Bates, dropping her work
and leaning out of the window. “Do
come in and tell.”
“Well, I can’t conveniently stop jest
now, as it's time to he putting on dinner,
and Hiram’s so particular. But I’v jest
this minit heerd from Mrs. Brown that
the old lady was a-dying yesterday, when
.Mrs. Stebbins left Barnville, and of
course, the funeral will he to-morrow.
Wonder if your sister Cole will go(”
“I don’t know as she’s heard of it,”
Miss Fanny Bates answered, in some ex
citement. “But I’ll go right round and
see. We never heard she was sick, or
Jane would have gone up to see her,
though commonly there ain’t much visit
tbg between ’em.”
Mrs. John Cole was busy making ap
ple. dumplings when her sister rushed into
the kitchen.
“Jane—oh, my! I’m most out o’
breath. Have you heard of old Mrs.
Cole’s death in Barnville?”
Mrs. John dropped the dumpling which
she was just rounding symmetrically in
the palms of her hands.
“Good gracious, Fanny! you've given
me a turn. When did she die? and how
did vou hear it ?”
“She was dying when Mrs. Stebbins
left Barnville yesterday, and Mrs. Miller
says the funeral will be to-morrow.”
“And they never sent me a word of
message! Well, that beats! But then
we Ought to make allowance for folks,
■when there’s a death in the family, and
so much grief and trouble, nnd such a lot
of things to attend to. Besides, it
mightn’t be convenient to get a horse
ana a boy to come fifteen miles to let us
know; so all the same, we’ll go to the
funeral. ’Twouldn’t look friendly, nor
like kin, not to do so; and you can go
can go along with us, Fanny, being
John’s sister-in-law. They’d take it
kindly of you.”
“And there's Mrs. Hill,” said Fanny.
“She’s some sort o’ kin to the Coles on
the old man’s side. Maybe she and her
daughter would like to go, as they’ve
got a carryall of their own. I’ll just run
round and let her know.”
Mrs. John returned to her dumplings,
with a deep sigh.
“It does seem heartless and unfeeling
to be making apple-dumblings for dinner
and one’s husband’s kin lying dead in
her coffin,” she remarked to her half
grown daughter. “Lucky, there's that
cake we made for Sunday's meeting.
I’ll take it with me, for there’ll be a sight
of folks from a distance come to the
funeral, and some of ’em will have to
stay to dinner. And you can get a good
basket of grapes out of tho garden,
Lizzie. They’re early and won’t come in
amiss.”
“And we must have plenty of white
flowers, you know, ina,” said Lizzie, in
lively excitement and anticipation; “and
I’ll wear a black sash with my white
dress, like Judge Martin’s daughters at
old Miss Martin's funcrnl.”
“We’ll all wear our black dresses,”
said Mrs. Cole. “It looks more respect
ful-like ; and I’m told it’s the fashion at
funerals, even where there's no kin.”
So, next morning, bright and early,
two vehicles were seen to leave the little
village, closely crowded with black
robed figures, most of whom carried
wreathes and bunches of whjte flow
ers.
In this part of the country it was tho
custom to have all “buryings” at precise
ly one o'clock, so the party had no fear
of being too late for the funerak
Mr. John Cole drove his own wagon,
nnd Mrs. Hill hers, containing her ilangh
ter and a couple of neighbors, who, hav
ing a alight acquaintance with the Barn
ville Coles, considered it but friendly
and respectful to the family to attend
the funeral.
They went at a brisk rate until they
approached Barnville, whose principal
street they entered at a proper and be
coming funeral pace.
“It does seem to me as if a sort o’
shadder hangs over the place to-day,”
Mrs. Hill observed, as she looker! from
under her spectacles at the people pass
ing. “Poor old lady! her death will be
felt, for a better woman never lived.”
“Look I there's the house, with the
parlor-windows shet, and, I declare, lit
tle Jemmy Cole carrying in cheers!”
“And just see that pile of old ivy rub
hish at the foot of the back steps!
They’ve been fixing up the parlor with
garlings on the walls,” said another.
“And yonder's the minister, across at
the 'potherary's, talking to Jeems Cole
himself!” exclaimed Mrs. Cole. “And
he, in his every-day clothes, and looking
not a bit downcast. Well, I suppose
he hasn’t had time to dress!”
They alighted at the frontdoor, where
they were met by Master Johnny, who, j
suddenly bolting out, nearly knocked j
down stout Mrs. Hill before he knew it. !
“Well, Johnny, how are you?” said
Mrs. John, in a tone of commiseration.
“And how is your poor ma, Johnny?”
“She’s very well, I thank yer, ma’am!”
answered Johnny, with parrot-like polite
uess, while staring round upon the visit
ors with a beaming countenance.
“Well, Johnny, show us the way, and
go and let your folks know that* we’re
here. He don’t teem to care a bit," she
added, as the boy skipped off; “but
then,” looking around on her own eager
eyed offspring, “children never can realize
the awfulness of death.’*
They walked solemnly into the parlor,
the door of which Johnny had proudly
thrown open, and seating themselves in
a black row against the wall, rigidly
awaited the appearance of one of the
family.
“It’s mighty strange that, the coffin
isn’t in here.” whispered Miss Bates.
“And such K show of flowers! All sorts
of colors, too!”
“I smell cake,” said Mrs. Hill.
Just then Master Johnny’s voice was
distinctly heard, calling at the head of
the kitchen-stairs:
“Bess! I say, Bess! Here's a lot of
folks come to the circus 1”
“Gracious goodness!” said Mrs. Cole.
“Did you ever?” whispered Mrs. Hill.
And the "two young Coles suppressed a
giggle-
Presently Master Tommy came skipping
back.
“I told ’em,” he announced, briefly.
“Gran’ma’s coming now.”
A little stir as the ladies settled them
selves primly in their seats.
1 ‘Be quiet now!” whispered Mrs. Cole
to her daughter. “They’re bringing in
the coffin.”
The door opened, and there entered a
portly, pleasant-faced old lady, who smil
ingly held out her hand to the visitors.
They all simultaneously started to their
feet, with various amazed exclamations:
“Why, the land’s sake!”
“Have merev on us!”
“Why Mrs. Cole!”
The old lady stopped short, looking al
most as surprised and bewildered as the
visitors.
A dead silence ensued, then all looked
from Mrs. Cole at each other.
“It seems there has been a mistake,”
said Mr. John Cole, who at this instant
opportunely entered, having stopped
outside to fasten his horses.
His wife nudged him. but he was be
yond controling his feelings at this mo
ment, and bursting into a laugh, he seized
the old lady’s hands in both his own.
“I declare, Cousin Cole, I’m delighted
to sec you looking so well—never saw you
looking better in my life. And to think
—ha, ha, ha!—to think we’ve all come fif
teen miles to your funeral!”
“To Bessie's wedding, you mean!” said
the old lady, still looking bewildered.
“Wedding! Is Bessie going to be mar
ried?”
And then, perforce, there were expla
nations, to the great mortification of the
visitors and the greater amusement of the
old lady.
As to Master Tommy, his delight knew
no bounds, and he dashed into the yard
and fairly rolled on the grass in his con
vulsive merriment.
“Now that you have so kindly come to
my funeral,” said the old lady, smilingly,
“you must of course stay to the wedding.
It was kept a secret till yesterday, and
there’ll be only a few relatives and inti
mate friends—nobody invited out of
town. But we will be glad to have you
stay.”
And they did stay, lieing so hospitably
pressed by the family, Mrs. John Colo
consoling herself with the thought of the
cake and fruit that she had brought along
—a suitable offering for a wedding.
And that evening, by a bright moon
light, the funeral procession that had in
the morning lugubriously entered Barn
ville drove gaily away from the wedding,
and all the way homeward indulged in
reflections upon the gossipping folks who,
out of a slight cold and fever, could have
made up a story of a death and funeral.—
Saturday Night.
The “Fraid”—A Battle in the Air.
Have you heard of the “Fraid” of
New Hope Church? The night was
lark, as the troops of Hardee’s corps,
four abreast and stretching for miles,
marched along a highway from one part of
the memorable battlefield to another. It
was 10 o’clock. The stillness was broken
only by the tramp of innumerable feet
and the rattle of canteens against bayon
ets. Suddenly in the air, ten feet over
head, burst the crashing and the slashing
of a cavalry battle. In mid air was the
sound of rushing chargers, the clang of
6aber meeting saber, the roar, the din,
everything save the shouts nnd groans.
It was a veritable battle of spirits, fought
in the darkness just above the Confed
erate column, and quick as a flash terror
seized Hardee’s men. The great line
parted in wild confusion, the soldiers
dashed into the woods, pursued by visions
of Death on the Pale Horse, until weak
from fright many of them sank to the
ground. The horror of those brief sec
onds ! It was not the crash of shells and
the rattle of musketry, as men met men
in daylight, but it was the unseen battle
of cavalry spirits in the air! It was clash
as ghost met ghost. No wonder faces
blanched and knees smote each other as
cars heard whnt eyes could not see. After
a time the noise died away, the officers
rallied the men, and the march was re
sumed. The soldiers called it “The
Fraid of New Hope Church,” and speak
of it to this day aa one of tho awful ex
periences of the war. It is thought the
“Fraid” was caused by some unusual
commotion somewhere along the line,
and that the cavalry battle was the echo
of clashing scabbards.— Atlanta (Jonetitu
lion.
Change For • Qnarter.
We imagine that very few people thint
that a quarter of a dollar can be changec
215 different ways. The pieces used it
making the changea are the twenty-cen
piece, ten-cent piece, five-ccnt piece
three-rent piece, two-cent piece, ana one
cent piece. To be able to make all th<
changes would require one twenty-cen
piece, two tcn-ccnt pieces, five fire-con
pieces,eight three-cent picees,twelve two
cent pieces, and twenty-five one-ccnl
pieces, making in all fifty-three pieces nt
money, representing sl.lß. — Agent.' Her
eld.
SCIENTIFIC AND INDUSTRIAL.
Improvements having been made inthe
refining of wood alcohol,it is being large
ly used, it Is said, to replace the ordinary
alcohol. Fears have lately been expressed
that it is being used in pharmacy as a
substitute lot alcohol in tinctures.
It is estimated that from 84,000 to 35, -
000 cubic miles of tain fall every year up
on the surface of the globe. The rivers
carry off barely one-half; the rest disap
pears by evaporation, by the absorption
of the earth and by being taken up by
plants, animals and mineral oxidation.
Stingl and Morofsski have recently
confirmed the fact that in the Sojs Bean
there exists a ferment of remarkable sac
charifying power. . Two-thirds of the
starch is converted by this ferment into
sugar, and one-third into dextrine. This
discovery will, without doubt, increase
greatly the importance of this bean in
agriculture.
The areas of country having an inland
drainage—equal to 11,486,350 square
miles—receive 2,243 cubic miles of rain
yearly. The total areas draining directly
to the ocean equal 44,212,000 square
miles, of which 35,829,750 square miles
have more than ten inches of annual ram
fall, and discharge into the sea 6,561
cubic miles of water each year.
In a paper before the Meteorologies'!
Society of London, the Hon.H. Ahercrom
by has shown that cumulus is the common
est form of clouds in the tropics; cumulo
stratus and cirro-stratus in the temperate
tone; and stratus and fog in the Arctic
regions. Although the forms arealike,
the prognostic value of any shape is not
Ihe same everywhere, woolly clouds deno
•ing fine weather in Ungland and rain in
Italy.
If the condensed breath collected on
the cool window panes of a room where s
number of persons have been assembled
be burned, a smell of singed hair wil!
show the presence of organic matter; and
if the condensed breath be allowed to re
main on the windows for a few days, it
will be found, on examination by micro
scope, that it is alive with animalcule.
It is the inhalation of air containing such
putrescent matter which causes half the
sick headache, which might he avoided
by a circulation of fresh air.
Mr. Braidwood, Superintendent of the
London fire-engine establishments, stated
before a committee of the House of Lords,
that, by exposure to heat not much ex
ceeding that of boiling water, timber is
brought into such a condition that some
thing like spontaneous combustion takes
place; and that it may take eight years
for the heat from pipes charged with or
used to convey steam,hot water or heated
air, laid among the joists of a floor, or in
the heart of a partition, or elsewhere in a
building, incased in timber, to induce
the condition necessary to the actual ig
nition of the timber.
> A recent -writer in Popular Science Nines
has called attention to some of the re
markable physical problems snow pre
sents. Rain in falling runs rapidly away,
but snow accumulates upon the ground.
It is difficult to understand how this im
mense weight can be held up in the at
mosphere. Every cubic foot of snow is
condensed from 1,728 cubic feet of vapor.
In the condensation a large amount of la
tent heat is changed to sensible. One
pound of vapor in being condensed to
water evolves enough heat to raise one
pound of water from 0 degrees to 972 de
grees F., and an additional amount is
thrown out in converting water to ice.
This accounts for the warming of the at
mosphere during a snow-storm; and even
if no warmth may be felt by us, the heat
is expended in the superior layers of the
atmosphere. The same writer asserts that
to far as heating power is concerned,
there is as much heat developed during a
snow-storm as would be in an equal weight
of red-hot sand.
Charms Against Toothache.
To put a double nut into your pocket,
to pare your finger nails and toe nails
ana wrap the parings in a paper, are
charms against the toothache.
In some parts of Sussex, England,
there is a superstition that if you put
on your right stocking, right shoe, nnd
right trouser-leg before the left you will
never have toothache.
In parts of England there is a custom
of calling the toothache the “love pain,”
for which the sufferer is not entitled to
any commisseration. Whether he or she
fully consents to this may perhaps be
doubted.
In the royal library at Stockholm is
preserved a manuscript charm for tooth
ache, consisting of a Latin prayer to one
of the saints. At Bonn-on-the-Rhinc a
tooth, said to have been one of hers, is
shown in a glass case in the Church of
the Saint's Day, and the case is devoutly
kissed by people of both sexes as a pre
ventive against toothache.
An impcrinl toothache once made the
fortune of a poor barber. The Sultan of
Turkey, having a touch of toothache,
sent for the court physician. He waß
hunting, and could not be found. Tho
domestic hunted about Constantinople,
and at last found a poor, ragged barbel
surgeon. They took him to the palace
anil furnished him with proper clothing.
He drew the offending tooth, and soothed
the pain of the commander of the faith
ful. A nice house and 1,600 piasters a
month was awarded him.— Chicago Her
ald _____
Wall of a Sufferer.
As a great moral agent a woman is a
yard wide and all wool, hut as a hook
agent she cuts a swath a mile wide anil
never missea a victim. We would much
rather have a friend pour a pitcher of
common molasses down our back than to
be interviewed by a lady book agent
whose mouth resembles a crack in a lemon
and whose nose looks like sn exclama
tion point in a whirlwind —Austin (Ter.)
Stateeman.
Terms. $1.50 per Annum Single Copy 5 cents.
THE MISSION OF THE LILIES.
Go, lilies, with your dew-dimmed eyes;
For, ere another sun shall rise,
My lady hies her to the ball.
And, while sweet strains of music fall
About her, shell, my seraph sweet,
Crush hearts 'neath satin-slippered feet;
While I—well, why should I be sad
Who find it bliss to know her glad?
But you must fill your envious part,
Reposing on my Lady's heart.
So,
Go;
Go, lilies, go*
Upon her heart! O lilies fair,
When you are softly nestling there,
Watch all* its throbbings wondrous well!
For then, perchance, who—who can tell
Hot that her heart your eyea may see
Give just one gentle throb for me?
And if it should—why, then I know
One of you’ll live to tell me so.
So.
Go;
Go, lilies, go!
—Harold R. Uj/nna.
HUMOR OF THE DAY.
Cutting a swell—Lancing a boil.
When does a man impose upon himself?
When he taxes his memory.
We haven’t much of a navy, but some
of the young officers are the best dancers
in Washington.— Puck.
“There's a woman at the bottom of it,”
as the man said when his wife fell in the
well.— Hartford Journal.
There are a few good Indians out West.
One of them has just been exhumed in
a petrified condition. — Puck.
The average woman is considered too
delicate to shoulder a musket, hut
nobody questions her right to bare arms.
He who has too much to do with the
“ante” usually ends by having consider
able dealings with the “uncle.” —Boston
Courier.
“I wouldn't he a fool if I were you,”
said Jones to a friend. “If you were me
you wouldn't he a fool,” was the reply.
— Judge.
“ Needles” is the name of a town in
California. It is a sharp little town, with
one eye constantly open to its own in*
terests. That's sew.— DansriUe Breeze.
“ Oh whistle and I’ll come to you, my lad,* 1
She promised with girlish bravado.
But she started on a run the other way
When he started out on the Mikado.
— [Somerville Journal.
“Which will you have, chloroform or
laughing gas? ” said the dentist to his
patient, about to have a tooth pulled.
“Ether will answer,” said the customer.
Wasp.
What time the solar rays begin
To dissipate the storm
The robin on the lawn rakee in
At dawn the early worm,
And then the skies no longer frown,
Then flow the brooks erst frozen,
And “nice fre6h eggs” at once drop down
To tweniy cents a dozen.
—Boston Courier.
A Western town has a female sheriff.
Recently 6he arrested a man, and he,
hoping to flatter her to let him escape,
told her she was the handsomest woman
he ever saw. And did she let him
escape ? No ! She wouldn’t let that
man out of her sight, anyway, hut wanted
him around all the time. Trickery is
sure to fail in the end. — Texas Siftingt.
A Duel with Lassoes on Horseback
Cowboys become very skillful riders,
and they are sometimes fond of “showing
off,” writes J. T. Trowbridge in the
Hunter's Companion. In Southern Col
orado I witnessed some performances
which were as good as any equestrian
feats I ever saw. A cowboy rode through
the streets of a small town at full gallop,
picking up whatever was thrown in the
way before him—a hat, a whip, a hand
kerchief. This he did by shooting from
the saddle, putting down one hand to
the ground, while he held on by the oth
er and by his feet, and springing up into
his place again without even slackening
speed.
Then he galloped through the streets,
lassoing, dogs, cattle, and even his
friends. I noticed that the rope was
gathered in a coil, with a noose at the
end about six feet long; this was swung
around the rider’s head several times,
and finally projected twenty to thirty
feet, with surprising accuracy, at the ob
ject to he captured. A dog usually
slipped his head out of tho loop as it
tightened, and ran away yelping; hut a
horned creature had to wait until re
leased.
But the most exciting fun was when
two cowboys, in picturesque hats, and
fantastically fringed leather leggins,
mounted on the briskest of ponies, at
tempted lassoing each other. As one
flung his rope, the other would dodge it
by oropping down on his horses neck, or
leaning over the side of his saddle; then
he would spring up and fling his rope in
turn.
Once both w’erc noosed; then it was
| diverting to sec the trained horses pull
and back and brace themselves, and the
1 men haul at the ropes, each trying to
free himself and at the same time to
I drag down his antagonist. The horses
seemed to understand the friendly game,
and to enjoy it as well as the men,
though they themselves sometimes got
lassoed over the neck or about the legs.
■ . .ji ;r •
A Dietary Experiment.
Lehmann, a German physician, mart*
tho following experiment: He confined
himself first, to a purely animal diet for
three weeks, afterward to a purely vege
table diet for sixteen days, without
marked inconvenience; but upon a diet
of sugar, starch and ale, ho could onlj
continue for two or three day*, owing tc
a disturbance in his general health.