North Carolina Newspapers

THE CHARLOTTE MESSENGER. VOL. IV. NO. It). THE Charlotte Messenger 18 PUBLISHED Every Saturday, AT CHARLOTTE, N. C. In the Interests of the Colored People of the Country. Able and well known writers will eontrih ute to its columns from different parts of the country, and it will contain theglateet Gen eral News of the day. The Messenger is a first class new sj»aper . and will not allow jiersonal abuse in its cob j umns. It is not sectarian or partisan, but Independent—dealing fairly by all. It re serves the right to criticise the shortcomings cf all public officials—commending the worthy, and recommending for election such men as in its opinion are l*st suited to serte . the interests of the people. It is intended to supply the long felt need of a newspaper to advocate the rights and defend the inter, ste of the Negro-American, especially in the Fiedniont section of the C’arolinas. SUBSCRIPTIONS: (Always in Advance.) 1 year - fl HO 8 months - * IW> j 6 months - - 75 3 months - - - SO 2 months - - - 35 Single Copy - - 5 j Address, W.C. SMITH Charlotte NC. ! The number of hogi in the United States op January 1, 1887, was estimated , pit 44,612,830, against 46,092,000 on j January 1, 1886, and 45,143,310 on Janu* | *ry 1, 1885. At principal picking points the average slaughter ranges between j 13.500,000 and 15,000,000 each year, be ■ pides, every farmer packs one or more hogs for domestic use. A short corn crop even will not much diminish the j number of swine in the c untry until a year One of the moat Appropriate and uso ful vocations into wh'ch women are en tering in some numbers i* that of nursing, •livery year, says the Boston Courier, thi training schools for nurses are graduah ing larger clnsies. and the supply is yet far short of the demand. The profesMo* pf nurse is one of great importance, and while it demands health, ability and devotion, it is will-paid and whoevei faithfully follows it may enjoy the ton* eciousnesa of being of great use in tht world; while it is happily free from thal Publicity which iu so many of the nvoca lions into which women have pushed themselves so hopelessly hardens them. [ A recent addition to the science of de lecting criminals, which is being tried, )t is said, at Joliet, Detroit, and other places in this country,and which hasbeea |ised to same exteat abroad for several years, is the anthropometric system of Identification. It isn't as formidable an hffair as its name would indicate, being toothing more than the ad lition tc the logues’ gallery of a icj-ter of carefully taken measurements of certain parts of the criminals' bodice. The usual meas urements are the length and width of the bead, the length of the left foot, the left forearm, and «f the little and middle ongurcs of the left hand; the length of the right ear. and also that of the trunk Ilf the body, takea when seated; the full stretch of the arms, and the total bright of the body. Attention is also paid to special mirks or M ars and to per sonal deformities ami irregularities of ogure. Tire measurements arc taken to th sliding and caliper com passes, gradu ated rules and other scientifically accur ate instruments. It is claimed that after S3' turity is reache 1 these measurements to ill remain practicably the fame until d< ath, affording n much aurer means of Identification than the features, hair, V»ard or*kin. Assn instance of the un reliability of photograph r as a means of ]>o*itive identification, it b said that in Scotland Yard there are sixty different photograph i of one person, a notorioui Ctrman gi I. evh of which so differs from all the others at to deceive the clever* •t detect)v «. France, I nly, Germany, 8* aln and Denmark have adopted the anthroponu trie system in their prisons. It was first formtdated by M. Fcrtil on it the Prison Congress in Rome in 1883, GTARLICHT. A myriad stars 1 ave grided men to fame, Have kept them pure by ’ooklng to their , light, And in the blackest tepths of sorrow's night. Rare been to themnal.y the same, rilling their souls vi j truths unchanging flame. And rousing weaklings up to deeds of might. Inspit-ing them in life'* unceasing fight To keep the r | irposefree from blot or blame. Bo shnlt *hou he, my love, my star and sun, To guMe and lig- 1 me through my life’s 1 short day To Ih» in jny> or . a ins my rest ,my stay, | Ami if pert a, nee b fore my cour.-e is run A vie or's crown shall fall upon inv brow, i Thou «=till shalt l*» my stir as thou art now. —lkoina C .If »•,»»»s. iji the Current. CKO ! if IBBA'S SIE. •Y U’CV IW.AKr. . High up •inoiig the Tuscan mo lut.ains, not fur fioiu the borders of Lombardy, is a tiny hamlet called I’iatico. It has a church, and the few strangers who visit the quiet little nook »nfl on .or the humble j sanctuary wonder at the handsome lace I I decorating the Madonna’s blue siik petti j I coat. Ail the rest of the oruamcnt.i'ica j ; is so tawdry and poor that the delicate I fabr.c looks strangely out of place How came it there? is a question tin old | j woman who unlocks the door is proud I to answer. * $ * Hi * * i Amv a.- i i laid put up for 111 liotlest! summer *crks at the liarn-like- old post j | inn at Flatten. Ofie:! dutnu. our walks | j through the chestnut woods’ or up the sti<|> pnt'wof the mmintnin-skle, we met! a tail, slim girl of eighteen, with strik | injrly beautiful dark eyes, which haunted i i us by reason of their extreme sadness. ; She wore n skimp gown; of homespun, its 1 original color a matter of conjecture ! . only; her well-modeled feet were bare, j ' and she was usual'y in charge of seven ; sheep and one little lame black lamb. : Sometimes we saw I„mlcr a tree knit- i ! ting an interminable bue stocking—for 1 oilier stet than her own, evidently— ' while the sheep gra/.er Or, in th.- ..pen ! I field, in the pouriug tain, this ghost like | I girl would sit on the soaking ground, j i huddled unde, an old green umbrella— i this to restrain a neighbor's cow. getting her supper of g.j>s, from invading an i I ad jacent cabbage-patch. The girl al ways gave us a „.-acious “dood-day" as she ] | passed, and seem p’eased when Amv i i smiled at her in return. , “Who is she.'-' weinquired of the mis- j 1 tress of our inn. ! “Vou mean the girl who drives the I she. p with a lame black lamb among | i them?'' answered our hostess. “That is I j Crocifissa, poor girl, the convict's daugh- ! ter- Hets is a hard lot among a little j j community where none lie on roses, | ! 1 assure you. Her father. Sandor. has a j | hnd history, and the shadow of it darkens ; the girl's life. i “Oh, tell it!' cried Amv, dropping : down upon a stool beside the comfort able-looking o’d- dame. “It is soon told, signora, the story of most sins is short; it is the misery of i them that drag, on so wearily. When Sandro was young, he killed a mail in a I passing of jealousy—a woman at the bot tom of the atlnir, of course—stabbed him j frem bch'nd in the dark, and then threw I him down into the Lima to drown if Un wound was not deep enough to give him his death. They wore a year or more fastening the murder upon Sandro, but hecoufcncd it at la-t o-era glasss too much of Chianti. lie was sentenced for i twenty years to prison and hard labor. When his time was out, strangely enough, he chose to come back here to i’iat co; and, stranger still, lie found a woman foolish enough to marry him, knowing : all about hiscrime. This poor weak thing died wheu Crocifissa was born, aud the thUd's life has been so wretched, it teems a pity she did not die too.’’ “Are they so vny |«,or?" “.Miserably; and because of the I ; father's disgrace everyliody s'.iins the ' i tlaught.r. Ctuel, isn’t it? Hut that is I j lire Way of the world. I should make tme exception when I say everyone turns the col l slender upon tier. I'crimps the saddest part of ( roeids-a’s history is ! that she linsa iover whom she can scarcely tver hope to marry." “Is he so poor, tool" “Uia name is lietuo, a very good fcl | low. but no lit. h. lie makes a little ; money w.th h s donkey, carrying fruit i aid v.go allies to the hotel at Ahetone, but he bus a blind old mother to help, and he can save nothing. Crocifissa earn- a lew francs spinning aud knitting stockings, and the profits from the sheep put n scanty supply of bread ; in the mouths of the convict and his . daughter, and keep a crazy roof over their heads. Crocicssa can make beauti ful lace, but the hurts her eyes at it, and a doctor told her she would go blind if •he made any more.” “Sliebas sn.-ii lovely eyes!" said Amy, enthusiastically. cs; with a bit of happiness to brighten her, she would be the prettiest f[irl in these parts. As it is, her good ook.ate little us*, poor thing!'* -‘Can't Homo hit upon a more paying business than donkey driving," 1 a-k. ‘•He wishes to go dowu to the Marem ma, where he would get good wages and be able to put by a little, hut Crocifisaa will not hear of it. She is right, I think, for Pemo is not strong:, mid the ■ marsh fever would lie Mire to carry him , off. IV i people lmve been kind to the 1 girl, and no do# ever low! his m ister ns CrorilHwa looirHrtn “Poor ir? what « pity they cannot make earli other lumpy!” “If they had n little capital, two or three hundred franco*, to hire and fur nish a room, they could manage t r> live; . hut hundrt d franc pieces do not full from the cloud*,*' CHARLOTTE, N. C., SATURDAY, NOV. 26, 1887 Life at Paris being dull and bare of inokicnt, we felt much interested in Croci iissa’s story, and cultivated her ac quaintance upon every occasion. She gave us flowers and berries gathered in pretty little baskets improvised by her self from chestnut leaves, and with her eyes bent shyly on her knitting, talked to us of her simple, uneventful life. When Remo, her lover, was under dis cussion. which was frequently the case, Crocil'ssa’s large eyes glowed with a solt, happy light, and she became beau tiful. . But the brightness vanished quickly at memory of the sordid misery encompassing them both. How we longed to be able to give the poor girl the paltry sum which would change her dull surrounding'! into a paradise. One morning, as we sat sketching on Ihc brow of the hill, Crocifissa timidly approached us, carrying a small package under her arm. This she unwrapped, ilis; loshig about four yards of unusually beautiful lace, six inches or more wide. I was not much of a connoisseur in such j things, but I could recognize the unusual merit of this piece. “Why. Crocifissa!' 1 I exclaimed; “where did you get such a prize:” ‘I made it,” she answered, modestly, “at the Convent of La Speranza, where I waited on the nuns for five or six years. They taught me to make it, but I can't see to do any more.” “But, child, why don't you sell this lacc! It would help you a long step towards buying furniture and marrying Remo.” “Alas, signora, I have often tried, but nobody will buy it. The nuns say it is worlh a geat deal of money, perhaps fifty Iraiicj: but I shall never find any one willing to give that sum, and I would let it go for much less.” i*hc, of course, wished us to make some loiv offer for the lace, but I knew' it would be n great wrong to the girl to allow her to sacrifice her work for a trifle, End I assuted her of this. Because we count not nllordto pay a fair price, we had no right to profit by the poor child’s ignorance. “The nuns would offer up special prayers for me if I gave it to the con vent,” continued Crocifissa; “but prayers will not buy furniture—at least they have not, so far.” “Don’t despair of your prayers yet,” said Amy; then to me, ir. English, “ There is Mrs. Webster, the rich Ameri can lady at Ban Marcello;you know she is mad over bjic-n brae, antiquities and laces—especially bices. She has heaps of money, and I believe she would buy this lace if she saw it.” 1 thought the suggestion an excellent one, and so*engcr were we to try if the sale might not he brought about, that we returned at once to call one hostess into consultation. The result of this interview was. that the uex* day Crocifissa was dispatched to San Marcello with her lace, ana a note to the landlord of the hotel where Mrs. Webster was staying. In three hours Croc tL; a returned, jubilant, because the landlord had promised to show’ the lace to all the guests in his house likely t ) b: interested in such things. We scarcely dared to break to Cro cifissa the goo I news that came three days later. Mrs. Webster had fallen in love with th* lace, as Amy had predicted,and at the landlord's suggestion had prom ise • to pay two hundred and fifty francs for the p e e, on her departure a month I later. In the meantime it might remain ! upon exhibition behind the glass doors | of the padrone's cabinet of curiosities. I It made one feel young and happy again to see the bliss of Crocifissa and Re .10. The latter was presented to us, and tho good fellow seemed ready to risk his life to serve us. Amy might ride on the. fruit donkey at any hour of the day ci night she oho c, and it was borne in upon ine that a particularly glaring pair of magenta stockings in process of eon s'rurlim by Cro ifis-a was for me. Th • fortune of the betrothed couple being now secured, negotiations were entered upon for the desired outfit of clothes and the necessary furniture. A charming pair of rooms, in Crocifissa’s (eye, were bespoken, at the bak of tho J carpenter's hou-e. and the wedding-day . was set early in October. All was going merry on the anti upated marriage bells, ! when the day arrive I for Crocifissa to go 1 to t?an Marcello a»#l receive her money, j On her first visit she had seen only tha I padrone, and was about to be given the price of her lace and dismissed at once i»y him, when, o.i second thought, he deeded to detain her. “You had better go and thank the lady for her kindness, yourself,” he said; “it looks more civil.” Cro ilissa was show n into Mrs. AVeb j ster's room, a marvel of ornamentation from all parts of the globe, and of v »i oils centuries more or less authentic. Mrs. Webster had, a! Amv had main tained. an idolatrous fondness for all things antique; a hideous jug with a era: k upon its dirt-ingrained sides was lovcl er in her eyes than the must skill fully worked vase of modern times. She willingly paid fabulous prices for rubbish of a bygone day, but was implacable if she discovered fraud in the dates of ap parently antique treasures. In \ery had Italian, she addressed Croeifsss, who, not understanding, re plied in a few words, which the elder !adv failed to catch. The interview being rather a trying cue for both parties, Mrs. Webster was about to end it by dis- I miming Crocifissa, when the girl’s next j words, understood this time, alas! all too plainly riveted her attention. “What did you sHV?”»he exclaimed, a park of somethin : like anger glowing I in her ey< k j “If the signora would like some uar j row lace of the same pattern, I would try to mtke it. My « yes arc better now than when I did that wide pieccj* repeated Crocifissa. “Do you mean to say you made this piece of la e?”**id Mrs. Webster, with sup!>r<Bs<d rage. | * * Yes, signora; why not P Crocifissa regarded the now infuriated lady with blank amazement; she had ex pected praise for her handiwork, instead of these flaming eyes bent angrily upon her. Mrs. Web-ter rang the bell with sharp violence, aud demanded the instant pres ence of the padrone. “How dare you,” she cried, as he appeared, “try to cheat me so outrageously?” The padrone, mystified as was Croci- j fissa at the lady’s excitement, stared in helpless silence. Presently he found voice enough to falter: “I do not under stand: will the signora please to ex plain?” “You finished rasial, you know very well what I mean! You showed me this lace, letting me Lel cve it was old, and now this girl—she is innocent enough— confesses that she made it herself. What have you to say for j ourself, sir?” “Diomio! Why—l thought—but it is old, signora—behold, it is quite dirty. I feared the signora would desire a fresher piece, and my heart was light when she seemed to wish to have it old. The s'gnora did not mention how old it must be. hence this misunderstanding, which I regret deeply.” If occasionally tempted into falsehood, UKC tne most oi his kind, the padrone | an this occasion spoke the truth. lie j was a simple fellow, ignorant of tfie craze of the elegant world for antiquities; he j |iad not troubled himself to inquire the ; history of Crocifissa's lacc, but had satis- | fied his conscience by asking its value of j an old woman of the village,an authority in such matters. But the irate Mrs. Webster was not to ! be appeased. The padrone had tried to ; cheat her as cgregiously as any hardened 1 rogue in the lowest of junkshops. j “Here,” to Crocifissa, “take your lace; I j have changed my mind, and will not have it!” and she tossed the dainty work into a basket on the girl s arm. “But, sigDora!” cried the poor child, burs ing into tears, and extending both hands imploringly. “Leave the room at once, both of you!” laid Mrs. Webster, callously. “I cannot have a scene here. The wav of the trans gressor is hard, you know, and you must take th’ conse juenccs of your evil deeds.” Poor Crocifissa! how she retraced her tired steps to Piatico, empty handed, with the unlucky lace in her basket, she never knew. The situation was really deplorable—all the necessaries for thtfir humble housekeeping almost in their possession, the rooms engaged, and not a franc to pay for anything. The little community was loud in iis expressions of rage at the inhuman woman who had so deceived Crocifissa, but this mended matters not at all. A day or tw’o later Remo sought us out, despair on his handsome face. Cro cifissa was ill, of grief only, but co low and miserable, that Remo feared the worst. The poor girl was really in a pitiable state, and after our visit to the hovel where she lived. Amy and I de clared we would not see another sunset before we had tried to set on foot some project that might benefit the unhappy child. There were crowds of strangers at the hotel at Abetonc: why should they not know as the sad lit le romance at Piati co? With the assistance of our kind hostess, the affair was made public, and we arranged a lottery by which to dis pose of Crocifissa's lacc. To our great delight, tickets to the value of nearly three hundred Danes were sold, the money of course, being poured into the lap of the bewildered Crocifissa, well nigh beside herself with these sudden transitions from despair to joy twice repeated. The modest troutieau and furniture were paid for, and there was a little sum left over for a rainy day. Amy and Ii delayed our stay, to be present at the wedding in October; and a very merry HTair it was, thanks to the change in public opinion, which now regarded Remo and Crocifissa as the hero and heroine of the village. The old hostler at our inn won the lace. As he had not chick nor child to give it to, and one or two old sins on his con science, he gave his winning to the Church. And thus it came about that the Madonna's silken robe i> so richly decor ated. Frank Iseslie'*. Wild Ponies on the Southern Coast. On the hanks or sand bars that divide the Atlantic Ocean from Pamlico Sound, North Carolina, just inside .the light house that marks out to the manner dreaded Cape Lookout, there is to be found a hardy race of ponies kuown as “Bankers.” These ponies have lived there as long as the tradition of the old est inhabitant dates back. Entirely sur rounded by deep water at all seasons, having no communication with the main land, aud being barren of vegetation save a scanty growth of sedge gruss and low shrubs, the banks have remained unin habited except by these nonies, which seem to thrive aud multiply in spite of the hardships to which they are exposed. How they first came there, or of what o igin, is conjecture, and tradition mere ly hints the story of a violent storm, with its attendant shipwreck and loss of all on hoard, save a lot of ponies from some European port, which were cast upon the sands, and surviving the storm Ikm ame the progenitors of the race of Bankers now so numerous. Having to rely on in stinct alone, these animals are a subject of study to the naturalist, as they are a prey not only to the driving sands, but to the storms of the Cape, that break upon and over the narrow sand bar and change with each recurring hurricane the j topography of the country. The ponies, • choosing the protected side of the sand hillocks, burrow deep into the yielding sand, and stamp out a protected stall where they take refuge from the storm; aud. while many are destroyed, their number lias increased — American Agri cultural. . f . NEWS AND NOTES FOR WOMEN Plush is coming into fashion again. Enamel is being largely used in jew elry. There are 100 girl students at Cornell University. Felt hats are exceedingly fashionable this season. Black trimmings are the fashion of the ! moment in colored fabrics. A high class college for women is to be established at Denver, Colorado. New winter mantles are frequently in rediugotc shape with visite sleeves. Tea gowns are ornamented with silver bells, the traditional ornaments of folly. Silk embroideries, passementerie and braiding are the favorite trimmings of the season. Velvet cloth is a new wool fabric with a thick pile-like velvet, and is sometimes called cardinal cloth. Miss Lucy Salmon, the new Professor of History at Vassar, is a fine looking blonde with a clear, open face. A tiny bar of Roman gold, tipped at each end with a handsome diamond, makes one of the richest of lace pin*. “Rain fringe,” to-wit: Long close j strands of small jet heads with scarcely I any heading, is a fashionable garniture. ! A new style of sleeves is full down to j the bend of the arm, slightly drooping ; just under the elbow, and finished by a 3cep, plain wristband. Mrs. Walker is a successful farmer in ! Georgia. She owns and manages sev | sral thousand acres of land, which th;9 i year will yield her a profit of $20,000. Lady preachers are said by the Chri <- j firm Jtcgiittr to be largely used by the Unitarian sect, and are doing “a strong, earnest, and, in many respects, remarka ble work in the West.” » Miss Rigden, of Detroit, is the latest dress reformer. She declares that the "own for woman is the insignia of serf dom, and advocates either trousers or knickerbockers for the fair sex. Jackets, of whatever shape, are favored by ladies of all ages for general w*ear, and are worn by young ladies on all occa sions. The short mantle wraps are, how ever, favored by all but very young girls for dressy wear. The 1.010 girls employed in a Liver pool factory have been organized into a fire brigade with regular apparatus and drill. They have several times demon strated Iheir efficiency when the factory was threatened with destruction. The most novel style of trimming for bonnets consists of plush flowers of the most exquisite tints of pink, rose, and heliotrope, also pale yellow shaded to to deep orange. The foliage is not of plush, but is very soft and velvety. The Empress Augusta, of Germany, is more than 75 years of age, and has not changed the style of her dress for the last 25 years. She still wears the same dark brown wig. and recently at the opera was dressed in a white brocade gown, and wore a white cap of plush on ber head instead of a bonnet. Around 1 her neck she wore a chain of large em ' eralds. I The New York Sun says: “There is I j wailing among the buttonmakers. The ! gorgeous buttons that have illuminated ladies’dresses by the dozeus and dozens , arc going out of fashion. The correct \ thing now is to conceal the fastenings. , Boxes and boxes of buttons lie unsold on j the shelves of the dealers. But—such are the compensations of the trade—the | hook nnd-eye sellers arc delighted.” In the northwest of India and Oude , lady doctors are coming prominently into l notice. Nearly 72,000 cases were treated y at eleven missionary dispensaries, and , 11,000 women sought relief at Mrs. Wil r son's dispensary at Agra; 10,850 women , and children were treated at the Thomp [ sou dispensary at Agra. The lady doc- I tor in charge performed successfully some very important surgical opera tions. t Hats have greatly changed in shape since the summer. The crown, instead > of being high, is now quite low, and the brim is very broad, and slanting in j front, while at the hack it is very nar . row, and slightly curled up at the edge. The coiffure, following suit, is also much lower than in the summer, massed at the back of the head in thick loops and . rouleaux, while in front short bandeaux are combed off over the temple?. Resides her literary tastes, Queen Mar -1 gnret of Italy is much interested iu art, r j and devotes a large portion of her private 2 ; income to the purchase of paintings and J statuary, bhc is also something of a j poet, and now and then reads aloud to a select audience some of the verses which she has thrown iff during a moment of leisure, between a reception at the palace j and a state dinner. Her lines flow along 2 harmoniously with an exquisite finish, , ind often the poetical images arc painted . with a richness Os color that is astonish i f L LL-JU LIB? J Handsome Compliment. | Miss Ethel.—“ Mr. Featherly paid you ’ ! » very handsome compliment last night, I Clara!” | Miss Clara.—“Oh, did he? sVhat was V it?” a Miss Ethel,—“He spoke of your new J black-vclvet suit, aud thought he never saw you look so well. Ht is wonderful,’ t he said, ‘what a difference dress makes j with some people!’ Why He Looks Cross. 1 | Ho isn't in love with a dear little dov«, 2 I Not a bit of a mitten has iho given to him; He has no bill* to pay coining due every day, | And his pockcttMJok isn’t most awfully Klim. 1 Why then looks he bo cross, as it he’d a loss. ' And so dismal and downcast as a poor 1 drowning mouse! If the truth must be told, ’tis a story quiti 1 oil. His good wifs at home is cleaning hei house. —UwdaWi Sun. - Terms, $1.50 per Annna Single Copy 5 cents. THE LIQHT. There is no shadow where my love is laid; For (ever thin I fancy in my dream That wakes with me and wakes my sleera some gleam Os sunlight, thrusting through the poplar shad \ Falls there; and even when the wind has played His requiem for the Day, one stray sun beam. Pale as the palest moonlight glimmers seen, Keeps sentinel for her till starlights fade. And I, remaining here and waiting long, And all enfo’dad in ray sorrow’s night, Who not on earth again her face may see— For even Memory does her likeness wrong— And blind and hopeless, only for this light— This light, this light, through all the • years to be. # —ft. C. Buntur. in the Century. HUMOR OF THE DAY. You may laugh at a baldheaded man as much as you like, but you can’t make tun of his hair. —Danwitte Breeze. The English house of lords now re joices in a new and appropriate title— the house of landlord* — Chicago Journal. “Why do plots thicken on the stage?” asks a western exchange. Because they can’t very well be‘any thinner. That’s one reason.— Mail and Express. He was love-struck when first they met, And soon was bound the fetfcjrß; One year, and she sent back love’s truck— His gifts and all his letters. —Carl Pretzel. In a Kansas t>wn. Class in history. Teacher-“ And what did AVashington do when he threw up his fortifications near Boston?” Bright Boy—“He boomed Ihc town.’ I—Arkansas 1 —Arkansas TrateUr. One of the most annoying things in life is to think you have found a nickel on a show case, and after making a covert grab for it, discover that it is pasted on the under side of the glass.— Epoch. “There is many a slip ’twixt the cup and the hp*” . A motto that comes very pat, my boys; There arji many slip up 3 ’twixt the flips and hiccups— You haj better pist3 that in your hat, my boN*s. _ , —OooiaWs Sun. There is a good deal of interest mani fested now iu the subject of whaling in the polar sea. The difference between that and the old-fashioned back-shed variety is that in one instance the victim gets cold and in the other he gets warmed. —Merchant Traveler. Should Wiggins claim that storms will blow, Go sailing, son, and fear noF; But should he prophesy a calm, Into the ocean steer not. t ! And should he say the sun will shine, *. Then look for drenching rains oqt. Tis strange the killer with his club Don't knock the fellow’s brains out. » Washington Hatchet. NOT PJSRFECT. He wears a dapper Derby hat. Which be would call a “tile;’’ His linen and bis gay cravat . Are of the latest style. His clothes by Poole, of London fame, • Are fault’ess in their fit. They ornament his manly frame And he's aware of it “A perfect youth,” you'd say at once, And get it wrong again, For he is just a perfect dunce, He has a misfit brain. —Somerville Journal An African Pest. M. Paul Bcrthaud, a Frenchman, who in June and July last made the journey from the Transvaal to Delagoua Bay, has given sine interesting information con cerning that plague of Syutheastern Africa, the tsetse fly. At Leydenburg he was told that the dreaded insect now roamed over a much wider area of coun try than formerly, and that last season it had destroyed hundreds if not thousands, of cattle. The persons who were accus- I tomed to yisit Delagoa Bay every year were panic stricken, aod M. Berthaud found it impossible to hire a wagon at Leydenburg. Ultimately a Berlin mis sionary took pity on Jhc traveler, and with the assistance of some Christian natives provided him with a wagon and a team of-oxen. On the way M. Ber thaud met an Englishman named Sander son—a great hunter—who told him that when he made the journey to the coast he was so certain to lose his cattle that he always took with him his old oxen, w hom he could more readily spare than tne younger ones. After all M. Berthaud (raveled through the infested country without suffering from any of the dis eases which were predicted in the Trans vaal. The explanation is that the tsetse fly follcs game, especially buffaloes, and that as this has been an especially dry season, both fly and game have fled from thelowlauds to higher regions. It would be a gre4 convenience to travelers If the pestilent insect could be induced no longer to haunt the road to Delagoa Bay. —.London A sirs. Two Governor*. When General Buckner, now Governor of Kentucky, made his last sortie from Fort Donelson he was met and repulsed by Colonel Thayer, commanding ths First Nebraska Regiment. The two coml manding officers never met again unti until they grasped each other’s band at the Philadelphia centennial, General Buckner as Governor of Kentucky and General Thayer as Governor of Nebraska. —Macon ( Oa .) Telegraph. A Sign of Winter. There are many signs of winter Gather over tea ami vale; Written by great Nature's printer, Telling many a coldish tale. But there's one that's-ne'er misleading. Keen in cities by the score: And it pieads in pit*ons accents The request; “1 lean* shut the door!” -GoodalT* tfitoa.