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VOL. V.
PITTSBOIU)', CHATHAM CO., N. C., JUNK 21, 1883.
vr larger edtrerttsemetiti libera! ?e:.:r:icts -U
SFhq djjhalham $mtL
H. A. LONDON, Jr.,
EDITOR AND rnofRICTOR.
NO. U.
Life's Mirage,
f i ! woulJ the suit waves be
And cold the singing era,
And ilmk the gulls tlmt echo to the seven
stiliiged lyre,
If things wi re wlint they seem,
II inrtli It id no tut dream,
No mirngo mudti to tin the dull sea line with
lire.
Kill on I lie shoves of time,
Ib-ming tho lirrnkeis chime,
Fulling hy hiy und night along our hiermn
rand.
The poet sii and sees,
Buriio on tho morning treezo,
Hie phantom thuds fl at a furlong from the
land.
Content to know Ihoni there.
Hung in the shining air,
lie trims no foolish sail to win (he hopeless
const.
His tImoii it enough
To lee I his soul with love,
And he who gmsps too much may cvon him
sdl U) lost. Edmund Hottr.
IF THEY HAD KNOWN,
'So you' ve conic back again.Jerome?"
said old Mr. Sew ell. "Well, wo heard
you was tliinkin' of rrturnin' to Elm
Mountain. Bad pennies always come
hack ha! ha! ha! And you didn't
make s'ch a big fortune as you calcu
lated, eh V"
Jerome Clay leaned over the old zig
zag; raii fence and rubbed his eyes
Had time stood still all those years
while he had been in the South? For
here was runner Sewell in the same old
Mue-cheeked overalls, with the same
hattered straw hat, tho sain" wrinkle
between his 1 trows, driving the same
nid red cows home through the twilight
lane, where the scent of trampled
spearmint came tip, and the melan
choly notes of a distant whip-poor-will
Mtinded faintly on the. purple silence.
And yet -and yet it was twenty odd
ft ars since he had left Elm Mountain,
with all his worldly goods balanced in
r bundle on his bark. He had been a
'ashing lad of twenty-one then: there
were silver hairs in his black locks,
now, and he had left a dead past buried
under the sweet m.ignolia groves.
And here was Moses Sewell, just the
same as ever, only a triile yellower and
more dried up.
"Yes," Clay said, quietly, "I've come
back. And you are right when you
say fortunes don't grow on every
bush."
(Join' to your uncle's house?" said
Mr. Sewell, leaning over the bars.
"He's dead and buried, poor fellow.
Always had a weak chest, you know.
And the gals ain't no younger- '.he
:hree ol I maids we call 'em ha. ha,
ha!"
And again the old fanner chuckled
bimself into a statu of semi-suffocation.
"Come in and see us," said he. "My
laughter Anrilla 6he's come buck a
widow and does tailorin' and plain
lewin". The old woman's stone deaf
but she's dreadful quick at eutehin' a
person's meaning!"
And off he trudged over tho bruised
patches of sweet-smelling spearmint,
his broad figure vanishing into the
gioam like a shadow.
"Three old maids, eh?" repeateil
Jerome Clay to himself. "Clara and
Ress and little Kate, the gohh'n-hairod
beatify, the soft-eyed poetess the bright
little sprite who was a mixture of
t'ndine and (Jueen Mab. Then, surely,
Father Time has not stood still!"
The light was shining out, as of old,
from the red-curtained easement, the
great fire of logs was blaring on the
lioarth, and the three cousins greeted
'.he returned wanderer wiih unaffected
warmth.
They were changed, of course.
What rise could have been expected?
Tho' Beauty had grown sharp anil
freckled, and iVr lovely hair had lost
Its burnish, and she was not quite as
tidy as she used to be in the old days
r-bout her ribbons and frills. Soft
pyed Bessie's sweet voice had degener
ated into a whine; she had grown
round-shouldered and lost one of her
front teeth; and little Kate was a stout,
middle-aged woman, who reminded
ene of Undine no more.
Hut they were his cousins still the
;irl8 who had romped and flirted with
him in due arithmetical progression,
.nd there still existed a bond of stead
fast friendship, and he told them the
ttory of the southern wife who had
Seen burled for five years under the
magnolias, and they all sympathized,
ond Beauty even cried a little.
"I have brought my three children
to the North," he said. "1 left them in
New Turk, and if I can get some gen
uine, whole-souled woman to take
charge of my home, I'm thinking of
settling here in Elm Mountain. Clara,
dear, you used to be fond of me in the
old times! What do you say to under
taking this rmrge?"
The Beauty seemed to grow smaller,
sharper, more business-like, all in a
second. If Cousin Jerome had come
hoine a millionaire, she would have
jumped into his arms.
But Clara Neelv was not romanti
cally inclined. To her, love in a cot
tage possessed no charms.
"I couldn't, Jerome," she answered
quickly. "I'm not very strong, and I
couldn't assume any responsibility of
this arduous nature. Besides, I'm not
fond of children. I'm greatly obliged
to you, I'm sure, but I'd rather not."
Jerome Clay bit tiis lip.
"Of course," he said, "it is for you
to decide. But if Bessie"
Tlje poetess shrugged her shoulders,
and laughed a light, shrill-sounding
cachinnation.
"Cousin Jerome," said she. "it's just,
as well to be frank about these matters.
I wotddn't marry a poor man not if I
loved him like Borneo and Juliet. It's
bad enough to scrape along as we do
here, with only half what one requires
to live on decently. But to plunge
into poverty, with two orthreo children
belonging to another woman no, I
thank you!"
Tor time, as may easily be perceived,
had eliminated ;i great, deal of the
poetical element, from Bessie Neely's
soul.
The quondam 1'ndine did not wait
for the question, as far as she was con
cerned, but added, promptly, that she
quite agreed with her sisters in all
the-:e matters.
"It's such a pity yon didn't stay hero
where you were well off. Jerome," said
she, in the pitying, patr'T.i'rinir manner
which your genuine man 1110V, abhors.
"Bear pa, you know, always disap
proved of your going Smith. And you
might have g it the situation of agent
to the White Castle, place, at ight
hundred a year, and cottage fouad. if
you'd only been bete on the spit. I'a
used to know the old agent, and could
have recommended you!"
Jerome smiled.
"White Castle?" said he. "That's
the big house on thr hill, where we
children used to peep at the rosis and
white grapes through the glass sides of
the great gr. -en house. A grand place,
as 1 remember it."
"And the position of agent is most,
responsible and highly considered,'
broke in Bessie.
Jerome Clay went away, feeling
rather depressed.
It is not the It of every man to be
thrice rejected in one evening.
"They think I am .1 failure in life,"
said he, half smiling, half sighing.
'Well, perhaps they are not wrong.
People's ideas differ."
Anrilla Haven, the old farmer's
daughter, had been a wild hoyden of a
school girl when Jerome Clay went
South, fc-hc was a silent, pale woman
of three-and-thirty now, who 41 id the
"tailoress" work of the neighlorhood,
and had hard work to get along.
But her dark-brown ryes lighted 'up
when Mr. Clay spoke of his fur-off
home, nil her cheek glowed scarlet
when Mr. Sewell chuckled out:
"So the three old maids wouldn't
have nothing to say to you? Ila, ha,
ha!"
Do you blame them?" said Jerome.
"Well, no,"' confessed the old man.
"Gals naturally want to better them
selves nowadays. If you'd con back
with your pockets full of gold, they'll
sing a different song you'd see."
Anrilla looked pityingly at Jerome
Ciay. She, too, had found lifo a fail
ure, and in her quiet way did all that
she could to comfort the tall, quiet
man who had hired the spare cldumber
in her father's house for a few weeks,
since his cousins had altogether omit
ted to invito him to bo their guest at
tho old place.
She was not prettv never had been
but she had a sweet, oval face, with
dark-fringed eyes, and a mild, wistful
expression which Jerome Clay liked.
And one day she spoke out what
was in her heart.
"Mr. Clay," she said, "I can't help
thinking of those poor, little, mother
less children of yours. If you will
bring them here, I'll take care of them
I always liked children, and it shall
cost you nothing. Father will let me
have the big north bed-room for a
nursery, and their board won't signify.
They can go to the public school, and
I'll make their clothes, if you'll buy
the material."
"AuriUa, you are a genuine woman,"
said Mr. Clay, earnestly. "None of my
cousins have spoken to me like this."
"Perhaps perhaps they didn't think
of it!" faltered AuriUa.
"Possibly," drily remarked Mr
Clay. "But, Aurilla," gently detain
ing her hand, "is it of my children
only that you think? Have you no
tender, pitying feeling the sweet sen
sation that is akin to love, you know
for me? Aurilla, will you become my
wife?"
And Aurilla did not refuse!
"Now that you have promised to
marry me," said Jerome Clay, "1 will
tell you all my plans, Aurilla. I have
bought a house here "
"Here, Jerome?"
"Yes, here. Will yon come with me
to look at it?"
"I will go wherever yon wish,
Jerome," said tho bride-elect in a sort
of innocent bewilderment.
Mr. Clay put her into a little carriage
I at the door, and drove her up the
mountain-side, through tho huge,
stone gateway of White Castle, to the
velvet lawns in front of tho colonnad
ed portico, where statues of Ceres and
Proserpine stooil in da.ling marble on
either side, and an antique sun-dial
marked tho golden footsteps of the
God of day.
"It's a beautiful place!" said Aurilla,
looking admiringly around. "But why
are we stopping here, Jerome?"
"Because, Aurilla," he answered,
quietly, "it is our home."
"You mean to tell me, dear," cried
the delighted widow, "that you've
been fortunate enough to receive the
agency? I thought Mr. Wright"
"Mr Wright is the agent still," said
Clay. "What I mean, is tfiat I have
bought White Castle and its grounds.
This lino old house is to lie your home
henceforward, Aurilla."
"Hut, Jerome, I thought you were a
poor man ?"
"Did I ever tell you so?" he laugh
ingly retorted. "Bid I ever tell any
one so? If the good people of Kim
Mountain chose to believe me a pauper,
is it fair to hold me responsible for
their rash conclusions? No, Aurilla!
In money I am rich rich beyond my
wildest aspirations. But when first I
came to Kim Mountain, I believed my
self bankrupt, indeed, in tho sweet
coin of love and human kindness
Sweetheart, it is nol so with me now.
1 It was your hand that unlocked tho
gate of happiness to me! It shall be
I your hand that is to reap the rich re
I ward."
I He bent and kissed her forehead ten
derly.
"But the children?" she cried.
"The children are with their mater
nal aunt, at the Windsor hotel, in New
York," he answered. "The boy is soon
to enter college, the girls are both en
gaged to be married to southern gentle
men, and after a brief visit here, will
return to New Orleans with their aunt.
So, my darling, your tender solicitude
was not required after all!"
Anrilla sighed softly. She had
somehow longed for the touch of little
children's hands in her own, the sound
of small, shrill voices in her ear. But
she looked into Jerome's loving eyes,
and was satisfied. He loved her was
J not that enough?
And the three old maids are sharper,
more untidy and shrill-voiced than
ever since they have re dized the fatal
mistake they made in rejecting the
overtures of their cousin Jerome.
And a maneuvering, managing
creature is tho tenderest appellation
they apply to Mrs. Jerome Clay.
Things would have been so widely dif
ferent if they had only knownl
lltlhn Forri'st Graces.
Thninler-Stoi'ins.
The tendency of thunder-storms to
follow a comparatively narrow track is
one of their most characteristic feat-
! 1 1 res. Kvervboilv who has lived in the
country knows how these storm giants
stalk across hills and valleys, pursuing
a course that can be traced almost as
easily as that of a tornado, drenching
the farms in their path with rain and
shattering trees and hayricks with
lightning, and leaving adjoining farms
untouched. In any broad river valley
skirted by hill ranges, affording cxten
si ve views, the phenomenon of a pass
ing thunder-storm moving at right
angles to the observer's line of sight,
can lie frequently witnessed In the
summer. It is like a distant view of a
battle, and when beholding it one can
hardly wonder that old Thomas Robin
son, in his "Short Treatise of Meteorol
ogy," printed upward of two hundred
years ago, described a thunder-storm
as an actual battle between an army of
fire and an army of water. A little of
his curious description is worth quot
ing: "The Battel by this time growing
very hot the Main Bodies engage, and
then nothing is to lie heard but a
Thundering Noise, with continual
Flashes of Lightning, and dreadful
Showers of Bain, falling down from the
broken Clouds. And sometimes ran
dom shots die about, kill both Men
and Beasts, fire and throw down Houses,
split great Trees and Rocks, and tear
the very Earth."
Although tho chances of any partic
ular man being killed by lightning are
very small, yet the actual number o
persons thus killed in a summer is
Sometimes startlingly large. Fortunate
ly, lightning can be guarded against,
and those who do not expose them
selves out of doors during a thunder
storm are not in much danger. In
large cities, too, with the exception,
perhaps, of the suburbs, disastrous ac
cidents from lightning are less frequent
than in the country. New York Sun.
They are never alone that are ac
couipanied with noble thought.
WHY HEARTS DKEAK.
A Physician' Me.ltrr-nt-Vi.ct Bolntlon
of (lie Vtxluic Problem.
"A healthy man or woman does not
die of a broken heart." a well-known
physician said. "A heidlhy heart is
only big muscle, ami nobody can have
grief enough to break it. When,
therefore, a blooming young widow
shows apparently inconceivable grief
at the death of her husband, and in a
short time recovers her equanimity, sha
ought not to bo accused of hypocrisy.
Neither may it be concl.ided that
another woman who soon pines and
dies has had more affection for her
husband than the first. The first
widow may have even more affection
than the other, but have been sustain
ed by physical health.
"It is erroneous tosupposethat death
by heart disease is always sudden. It
is very commonly protracted for years,
und exists undetected by most skillful
phyiscians only to be developed by
some sudden occurrence. There was
an eminent physician of BrooUyn, In
active practice, who died within an
hour of the time when he was about
to lecture. He was so well, that after
examination by skillful physicians o a
first-class insurance company, he tvas
declared perfectly sound, and a policy
for $l'i.H!Q insurance on his life reach
ed his home before his body was cold
The cause of death was a mystery
until the post-mortem examination, by
Dr. John O. Johnson, of Brooklyn,
showed that a little piece of chalky de
posit in the heart had become loosened
und formed an embolism. The man
had simply taken so no specimens out
of his desk, and he died in his chair
without any excitement or undue
effort. Any little excitement might
have done it, and then his death would
have been cited as that from broken
heart.
'So-called deaths from broken hearts
may be frequently traced in this way.
One exertion as well as another may
furnish the requisite culmination.
Medical books are filled with instances
jf death by heart disease during the
performance of pleasurable functions.
When a man is nearly dead it is easy
to put on him the finishing stroke, but
it is inaccurate to give the finishing
touch all the blame of his death
When a woman loses her husband, or
agirl loses her lover, and by nervous
exhaustion, loss of sleep, lack of nour
ishment, and grief, weakens the action
of her heart, she is said to die of a
broken heart, but she has, in fact died
jf a very ordinary disease.
"The case of Bill Poole, living for
ten days with a ball in his heart, is
often spoken of as remarkable, but Dr.
Flint records a case where a man had
a ball in his heart twenty years, and
finally died of pneumonia. Both these
men had healthy hearts, and could not
have had them broken by grief. Yet,
in fact, more women than men die of
heart disease. Out of sixty-one ob
served cases, thirty-seven were males
Another record showed' that in sixty
two cases of rupture of the heart, there
was fatty degeneration existing. In
at her words, where fat is substituted
for muscle, the organ is easily broken
If any of these people had been sub
jected to sudden grief, they might havo
furnished illustrations of heart-break"
ing. One medical observer records one
hundred cases of rupture of tho heart
where there was no grief to account
for it. In fact, grief is a very rare
cause of heart-breaking.
"Disease is the real cause of heart
breaking, and the various kinds of dis
ease which leads to it are so many that
volumes would lie necessary to describe
them. The cause of these diseases are
manifold, and are very much under
the control of the individual. There
are, of course, hereditary tendencies to
heart disease; but aside from traumatic
causes, these tendencies may exist for
years without fatal result.
"It is a curious fact that the least
dangerous he irt disease often creates
the most apprehensions. Frequently
patients who have only a functional or
curable disorder will not bo persuaded
that calamity does not impend,
although there may lie no real danger
On the other hand, organic diseasea
may exist unsuspected. There are
sympathetic relations between the
mind and the heart, and disorders of
the heart are frequently traceable to
mental excitement, either pleasurable
or painf ul. Quick beating of the heart
is no certain symptom of danger. It
has been demonstrated that the pulse
may safely range from 100 to 140 per
minute for many years. Attn. Cnltfor.
nia.
Fruit may be ripened by the electric
hgl t, but it is said that It is unpalata
ble. Strawberries grown in this way
last year meter the direction of Profes
sor Siemens were worthless. Some
melons ripened were of such poor
quality that to render them eatable
they would need to.be strongly flavored
with condiments.
TEAKLS OF THOUGHT.
The brave man carves out hit nw'n
fortune.
A life spent worthily should be
measured by a nobler line -by deeds,
not years.
lie is most to blame who breaks the
law -no matter under what provoca
tion he act.
Nothing can constitute good breed
ing that hu-i not good nature for its
foundation.
Men are sometimes accused ot pride
merely beause their accusers would be
proud themselves if they were in their
places.
By rousing himself, by earnestness,
by restraint and control, the wise man
may make for himself an island which
no llood can overwhelm.
Some people are nothing but money,
prido and pleasure. These three
things engross their thoughts, and
take up their whole soul.
Perseverance can sometimes equal
genius in its results. There are only
two creatures," says the ea-tern prov
erb, "which run surmount the pyra
mids the eagle and the snail."
The beginning of hardship is like
the first taste of bitter food it seems
for a moment unbearable; yet, if there
is nothing else to satisfy our hunger,
we take another bite and (ind it possi
ble to go on.
One ought to love society if he w ish
es to enjoy solitude. It is a social na
ture that i-olitude works upon with t In
most various power. If one is misan
thropic, and betakes himself to loneli
ness that he may get away from hate,
fid things, solitude is silent emptiness
to him.
Teace is better than joy. Joy is an
uneasy guest, and is always on tip-toe
to depart. It tries and wears us out,
and yet keeps 11s ever fearing that the
next moment it w ill be gone. Peace
is not so. It conies more quietly, it
stays more contentedly, and it never
exhausts our strength, nor gives us one
anxious, forecasting thought.
GEMS FOR THE MONTHS.
Tallsmanlr I'rerlons Stones - Supersti
tion Itrvnnice for Jtive'i.
In more modern tini"s each month
has had a gem consecrated to it, and
the wearing of a particular precious
stone, as a talisman, by a lady born in
a given month is supposed to be more
than usually fortunate. The system of
divining applies only to women and
theoretically is infallible. She who is
born in January should wear only
garnets, which would insure her the
friendship and fidelity of her associates
and will also render her true to them.
Those born in February must w ear the
ametlmt, which will make them sin
cere with others, and will insure them
against poisons and passions and cares.
Those whose birthday falls in March
will be w ise, brave and firm by natnie,
and will be assisted in thc.se qualities
by wearing a blood-stone. The dia
mond is sacred to April, and will kep
her who is born in that month inno
cent till death, while the lady born in
Mav should wear an emerald, which
will be certain to make tier a loved and
happy wife. Those born in June
should wear an agat-.1 to bring them
health, wealth, peace ol mind and long
life, while the ruby clears away the
doubts, anxieties and Jiangs of love for
those born in July. The sardonyx is
for those born in August; with it as a
finger ring, they are absolutely certain
to gain husbands and happiness; with
out it they are bound to live alone, and
to die unwept, unhonored and unsung
The sapphire is good to prevent or
cure insanity, and is especially bonefiehJ
to those born in September, w hile the
topaz, an emblem of friendship and
love, is dear to those who first saw the
light in November, and the turquoise,
the emblem of success, must h worn
by those whoso birthday comes in
December. The superstitious reverence
with which jewels are often regarded
also appears in the habit almost uni
versal in the East of naming the more
valuable stones. The Kohinoor and
the Kohitoor are examples too well
known to need more than mention, but
there are scores of others. The treas
uries of the East from the earliest time
havo abounded with diamonds, various
ly known according to their beauty.
There were the Sea of Fire, the River
of Light and the Son of God, the Eye
of God and the Star of Gabriel, the
Ocean of Love and the Mountain of
Beauty, the Delight of Women, the
Pleasure of the King, the Delight of
the Eyes and the Pride of the Treasuryt
stones were often the Gift of Allah,
the Angel of the Mountain, the Boast
of the River, the Soul of tho Queen
and the Star of the Ocean. Nor were
diamonds alone in being named, since
other equally favored in this way, and
the superstitious reverence felt for
them is quite clearly manifest. Globe-Democrat.
A CHINESE DINNER.
The Picturesque Banquet in n Mnmln
r HoiiKeholil.
tiur party of five English guests,
met in (i.'s oiliee, and proceeded in In
dian file, ea h in his sedan chair
threading our way through narrow
streets dimly lit with Chinese lan
terns, says a writer in tho Pall Mall
Gazette dis'-ibing u Chinese dinner.
We sin) it'll in a narrow lane on the
outskirts of the town, entered a shah"
by-looking doorway and mounted a
ladder-like staircase. This led into a
suite of rooms, where I found myself
wishing for Argus' eves to take in the
hundred new as ts. They were not
large or gorgeous, like Sidonia's apart
ments in Holywell street, but quaint
and euriou-lv finiisho. A ' hng ta
ble of bla-k la'-qner, and square-cut
1 hairs witli marble blocks down eith
er side, at the end a smoking divar
with embroidered silk hangings. Thi?
was the anti-room. Two doorwau
led troin it into the dining 1001.1. and
in the space between them w.i- a sort
of kaleidoscope pattern of a colored
glass, below h''h were rich hang
ings with grotesque dragons in cold
thread sprawling over a crimson sill
ground. Over the doorway w as open
arabesque work of ebony, and beyond
the dining-room wa a veranda with
orange tn-is and creepers. While
we were being introduced, tea was
served in Chinese ta-hion an invert
ed sauC'T is dropped into the op to
kpcp down the tea leaves (teapots are
unknown in China,') and you sip, or, if
you are a novice like myself, you spill,
the fluid that finds its way between
the two. Then we went to dinner, a
party of twelve. On my right was an old :
merchant, sagacious and humorous, to !
judge by his look-.- and what I could !
make out ol l is r...h-ev. English. On j
my left was a young half-ca.-tc, edit. 1
cated in the government school here
fluent, sallow and conceited. Chairs,
knives and forks had be-n provided
for the English gue.-K but we soon
discarded the chair for the comforta
ble lounges on which our hosts were
sea' el. and also took to chopsticks,
with tic occa-ional assistance of a
spoon. Those 4 li 'i sti-ks w ere a per
fect go 'send, and 1 necr should have
urived without their help. But I
must explain. The dinner which con"
sistf-1 of son-e thirty courses, was all
serv ed in tea. mii s. Cup followed cup, i
each filled with some kind of mince,
some in broth and some dry, but all
satisfying as raspberry vinegar. Now
the chopsticks allowed us to taste
each one in sncccsion, and though we
were not skilled enough to consume
all we might hav liked of the few
good, we could toy with the many nas-
ty ones and leave them without giving
offense. The turd's nest soup with
which we began was negative a sort ,
of stringy arrowroot ; but tho shark's
fin and fishes maw stewed with ham i
were as rank as conger eel. Quail, j
partridge and lobster are good all the
worid over, and the bamboo shoots
and wood fungus with wlii-h they were
served were no bud substitute for as
paragus and mushn.ii!is. But the
stewed seaweed and sinews of the
deer? Had it not been for the excellent
dry champagne, I must have succumb
ed. The last course was exquisite, I
and brought I a-k memories of the.
"Arabian Nights" honey cakes, earth
nuts and stewed lot. is seeds in syrup, i
Dinner over, we lit cigars, and strains
of music were heard from the next
room. Two young girls, one of them j
dressed as a hoy, sang alternately, ac-1
compan;. ing themselves on a sort of J
zither, piaved, however, not with tho !
thumb, lmt a mallet or rather a mill-j
ute halberd. My yonn-j Chinaman 1
apologird for what he called our na- ;
tional caterwauling, b it, though the j
notes were thin and Minll, yet instru-
mrnt and voe went so well together, i
and the air was so natively plaintive,
that 1 listened with pleasure. There !
was an opium pipe in the divan, and
our host, though u a smoker himself,
offered to have a pe prepared for me. !
The servant brought a small pellet of
opium, which he he! I over a tlame till I
it boiled up to a big bubble. It was j
then put all hot into the bowl, and I ,
gave as instructed a succession of short, .
quirk pulls. In a minuto it was out, i
leaving a sweet, sickly taste in my j
mouth, but producing no effect, pleas. ;
ant or otherwise, on my nerves. Beg- ,
ular smokers swall iw the smoke, and
no doubt that makes a difference.
Taking His Father's Advice.
. .a Arkansaw boy, writing from
college in reply to his father's letter,
said: "So you think that I am wasting
my time in writing little stories for
the local papers, and cite Johnson's
saying that the man wdio writes ex
cept for money is a fool. I shall act
upon Dr. Johnson's suggestion and
write for money, Send me fifty dol
lars." Arkan saw TrartlUr.
The Dude.
"Whirl iih- dude, pnpi?'lni tald,
Willi owect and iiirjuiiing ejc;
And In iIik knowing -wicking muid
Her daddy thus replies:
A weak inu--t.ii.he, a cit;iiict!",
A IlintiTii-hiilliiii vn-t.
A ciiriid iiin lmt 11 nitmni'l
Two wutih chain's m-niss th bieast.
A iii of 'iii, a drawl,
A lack n il'ii-y nir,
l or gossip nl the chili ' 1 hull
.Some link- "past nlTiir."
Two poin'rd hoe, two rpindia sha."
C'oiiipli-lu the ix'ihiT cli.ii :ii.,
And li How fitly i i tin- imiks,
Tho two Imjw-Ii ; 1 urni-i.
An empty h":i 1. n leitT jiui's sene,
A peaill nil ilil'le;
"liy Jove'" : i .a l'" "But w1" 'immpnfeV'
Ail llio.-e ninku up the dude.
ll,,l.frll'li'i Prat-
PUNGENT I'ARAGIHPHS.
Th
barber is man of many
,e is Mind, the girl- g to .1
.-crap1 s.
it loC
great deal
t'.cir h;or
bi auv.
,d' trouble in fixing ur
v, i,..i) Hiey expect their
II. n- max be a littK- backward on
i.iit tl-y never i.ii! to come tr
the s-'-riiteli v her1" Mower-b 0 are con
cerned. he do-toi who says it is unhealthy
to sleep in bather is mistaken; look
at the sphna riii-ken and see how
tough be is.
A fond f ith-r b :i- d that his son
w
lid make a ur-at sculptor. ljeeau
he . hi-si h d his d C io.o.-s out ol their
jj-iythio.--.
disappointed tradesman says l;r
wi.-lis '' -,. a i :vr, becine -
rumor soon gains i omniy, wh:ch he
ja unable to do.
Tla. cvU,r f the Andes is said to
1,; if r, v ,vi,, ,,;! and the hicrh-
t-'ne-l milliners ar Irving th same
game on the niarr e I ma::.
j lr. Armitage says, "Man should
always be gr-' 1 fill." Did the doctor
! ever have on it new .--nit and try to get
j cut of the way of a watering-cart '?
; Gin ss no.
I "Yes" she said to the gorgeous
youth Who v;i- lor d'-Vel"d J-J.ivo, "I
; keep this gild'd new live-cell I piece in
! my iO' !:et. and 1 never so? it without
1 thinking -f yon.
Doctor," asked Z. of a witty phyai-
, cian, "why do yon ami vour i reuiren
newr go to funerals?" "Because
we .should have tliv a;r of taking our
j work home."
j When you see u man sit down in a
j barber's chair, pin th" newspaper
around his neci and b.gin to read the
j lovvcl. you may pu'. him down us
absent-minded,
j - :
Origin of Thirteen at Table.
Says the Milwaukee Evening Wti.
viv.tiir. There seems to be a universal
and widespread superstition against
thirte-n persons sitting down at table
together. Indeed, so prevalent and
strong is this feeling, that a hostess ar
ranging for gucis is -ure to provide
against the contingmcy and tschevv, it
possible, the fatal number. Wo have
known ladies to rise panic stricken
from a tat lu whore the number was
inadvertently discovered, and the omen
is popularly believed to denote either
trouble, sorrow or dea'.h. l ew, if any,
seem to know Iheorigi 1 of this strange
andmysti - superstition, which dates
far hack to the earliest ages of Christi
anity. When good King Arthur ot
Britain, founded bis famous round ta
ble, he secured the u-rvices of tho en
chanter. Merlin, to devise and arrange
the seats. This famous sorcerer ac
coidingly arranged among others thir
teen seats to represent the Apostles,
twelve for the faithful adherents of
our Lord and the thirteenth for the
traitor Judas. The first were never
occupied save by knights distinguished
above ail others for their valor and
prowess, and in the event of a death
occurring among them the seat re
mained vacant until a knight surpass
ing in daring and heroic attainments his
predeee-sor should lie deemed wort))Jj
to fill the place. If an unworthy or
effeminate knight laid claim to the
seat he was repelled by some secret or.
hidd n spell east by the povvcriV.l ma
gician. The thirteenth feat was never
occupied save iijh ii one occasion, as it
is said, by a haughty and overbearing
Saracen knight, who. placing himself
in the fatal seat, was instantly reward
ed for his presumption by the earth
opening and swallowing him up. It
afterward bore the name of the "peril
ous seat," and among all the adventu
rous knights of King Arthur's court
! none Were, so foolhardy as to risk their
; jveB on the enchanted spot. And now,
after I3()0 years, tho spell of the magi
cian Merlin still survives, and in this
nineteenth century the thirteenth seat
at the table is as greatly dreaded as in
the days of the knights of the famous,
round table.