(1 (Jjjhathain fcofi or ADVERTISING, One igiura, one insertion. One square, two Insertions, Doe Sijaare, e-no ntnntli, ..( loo IX TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION: Oneemy, on fr.tr, Onaoopy .itxnumihs One WMTt three months, i 00 . LOO 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.

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