North Carolina Newspapers

E. F. YOUNG, Manager VOLUME I. "LIVK .ISJJD let live; C. K. GRANTHAM, Local Editor, N DUNN, HARNETT CO.vN. C., THURSDAY. JULY 1891 NUMBER 20. - . - , Che '(Central &tmeg Published Every Thursday BY E, F. loaaf ani G. K, Grantham. SunSCRiPTIONS IN ADVANCE: ),c Yrnr, .S Month, - $1.00 CO ADVERTISING RATES: ..; f iiitiin, One Year, I75.CC 40.00 2o.ee 10.00 i ):i Inch, it "TrC'ontra' t aJ vr-rtisctneiits taken at pro j rt.-mateb l w -rafr. ' f.cral iiftir, 10 cfiits a line. ,7-ir '-' f'l( l'"t"3rei,t "", .V. C (Official pu-vctvuij C2URT HOUSE. LILLIXGT05, NC COUNTY OFFICERS. ;. ,-;' -f..!.t.s M(. .!: ) AN. ( ';; 'it'll',,- Wi-'G.'I'. l'KINCK. .;.; fr of I)er.h. T. SPKAI:. A. I.. r.vi:i. ( W. 1". MX;:sm. '.. Smith. . :! -: N. A. S MIT IT, W. 1'. SWA.NS. t .1. M. 1I(.i k. TOWN OFFICERS, DUNN, N. C. ; ;,---.J. r. rmr.r.ij's. I i i.i'f ',- . t. 'v.y.r.i.. I i n i M. j W a i::. I J. A . Ta Yf.oi:, M . V. ixky (.'. ". - .1. II. i:.w i.an ::, K. Lke, 1 i; J'. Yua n.;. ALLIANCE. Tl.o ('miuiy Aiiitii.-e ii.t;s on the 2nd Yr. i i v i:j ititirv, April, duly a:nl iciober ' I. M'ji-ton, N. '. J. . IIki.t, Vris't. VM.Si: ton, J '( c'y. CHURCH DIRECTORY. , :yxx ni:c nr. v-'.'-(f Kj.i-ci.jhif '--i:kv. .1. D. Pry ram, 1'AM' i:. ( Iiitrirfs D.iiiti, "ml .umLiy night i.:i.l Itn .uiiii ty and li-'it. tfuinhy r-jch.ool ( y Miri'l.iy at .'! oV!o1.-.t. IVnyer JIming' H i ry V I i.-..;y iii.'Iit. Jl'arkV Chapel, 1st m -vi-.w iii rni rir. Av.-ra's School lloii-.t., 2nd Mi.i !ay i:i mii. K! -vat io:i, .'ird Susulny i:; n:ii-,'. l!f1ion, .'!:l Sunday allernoon. ',' .- ': ) ; r; ,rh, (' trthirj,X. O. .'. ,;. :'. u .rsix. Pas ion.--Services. i-.'iay p: 'i:Mi r.ud ni;ht. Minday i . i . ry Siualay niorsiing t l'i o'clock. Pi::; vri.i-1 -n-.-n wciy T!iuril:iy nisjht. , f ' Kkv. i. Ai llov;ii, l'A.STOK. l I V '.r. v VC! V 1st SiKlil-l V 111 ' if II ! II ' M II ll li jf?if (i .'I V k. n ! .-vt-ry Su::lav i:iorninjr at lV ;' '-lti:v..I. II. Tix.iLi:, PasT(k. . vie -every :: i::i iv i:ijr:i:n and niht. -i i 'la Scm.i r.V'wk every Sunday. Pr : Ct.;i4ein evi-y Tiiu:si!:iy nijrht. 1(7." li ,,i ,,r l:;v. K. A. Jouxsox, Pa- imc. S. ;- ir every -lid Sunday.. Sun- i:1y. !!.,! .-very San lay mcmi'ip. LODGE DIRECTORY. KM'" i in.'.y. So. I. (). O. F. Pi ,'i':;i- us ( every 1'iiPsil;, v ni;';t. 1 N- i. W. T,vl.r. V. tj. K. li! '.a:!!, StereTa: y. PvriV!:.v I.- i..::; ;,. u: a. F, and A.' M. .". a. ai !: . : ::,- ;:ril Saturdav iiu-rnini; ami li.! I I., f..re --.,lav. ":. V. ! ' 1 W. )l . F. P. .!,,llPs. S. Wv, J. L, J 1 ' - ! A- I.iii!s in. 'i re .s.irer, S. K.-r, ' v .et:ir ; V. A. .I..ir. n ,U1J I iii :; I.---. iVA.i.t ; K. J. Norri?, TyN r. Io;e Tliiui li-adj-. " i lio sucoossi'ul canvasser," ouce said ' r. l iiMi.esa mau, the one who can rrsuade you to buy what you don't want." l ew er.sons of retiued feeling enro to imdcrtake the business Hi dor tiiose circumstances, bat even 1 J hey could scarcely help being -amused j '' some iustauew . of persistence ' ia ' ic'its. I A "sami.icr iK-atiler was one d.iv sii- ; ti T on the farm-house" steps, when a j u-ider of patent lnedicinei appeared, y a be-an to advertise his wares? "(Ivi'd for. troth ache, rheumatism,: f'Uf. ague," he said rapidly, displaying a bottle. "Got rheumatism now, haven't ye. I c.nild tell that the minute I set vvesonye." " Never had a twinge ia m r life," said ti e netim. 'Subject to l.eadaclje?"' "No." "Teeth IroutTc.y.-' Never. So the conversation went' on, from r.-.rums to lipids for cleansing pur I es, and s:i!l notnig was bohL Af er l a.i un hour's ,teady effort, the ageut K-ou.v packed up his wa'es and sadlv r opa'ed to deparL As Lo wi, ab ut ' K a ceighbor approached, briugin ho moruinK'a mail, and, aud called out! tnamphantly: -I've got two magazine, aad there's a st. v by you in each !" The agent threw open his bag with a lg lllr'1Ue K8ture- ized a rV0U lel1 ffie u a lZLV - "T-five cents He hd conquered; the toalrum v.a Wght though only to Le tossed " the orchard wall. " ., A Veteran Canary. rt-arlr. if not KynJ1! heard that the life of ZV ceeds eigut or ten years, amf. therre" Inhere that mj bird lived to an ungual jearj. but continued to sing until whh. m. few day. of hi, deaththonU for he past few month, hia SOcg wa, frequent than formerly. For more than a j ear he has slept at the bottom o' hi, cage and not on his jerch, though ho a Iv"; Tt1 T t0 the.1 ercAutil wilhia0 d for the nr8t time, and, after a few ip ot water, nestled down on the floor Ins cage, coiled up as if to s!ee ru- f Ll,featliera "aal, and gently ept Lis ;Ie away. J TWO VOICES A HOMILY. The humblest and frailest grassy blade That ever the passing breeze swayed Is of Beauty's palace a green area Je. Akin to the uttermost stars that burn, . A story the wisest may never learn, Is the tiny pebble thy footsteps spurn. In each human heart potential dwell. Hid from th3 world and itself as well, Height3of heaven, abysms of hell. The core of the earth is aery young! No matter what may be Eaid or sung . With a weary brain and a wailing tonjua. Soul self pent in a narrow plot. Longing each morn for some fair lot, Some bounteous grace which thou hast not. Dull thou must b9 not to understand. And blind thou art not to see at hand Thy dreams by reality far outspanned; For wonder lies at thy very door, Andjnagic thy fireside sits before. And marvels through every window pour. "Woven the wings of tha swift hours ba Of splendor and terror and mystery; One thing is neslful the eyes to see! Cornhill Magazine AILNT MEREDITH. 'That wis the saddest mistake I ever made." From ray lounge ia the corner of Aunt Meredith's room I watch her with half closed eyes as she draws her low chair before the tire, and tikes her knitting from the work-basket at her side. She is always busy, it seems to me, and when I think of it, we six are enough to make work constant with her. First, there is Uncle Clay, Aunt Mere dith's brother, full of hobbies .that re quire her constant atteutiou. Iflcan only prove its vorthlessnes3 before he mounts it, I can save him a good deal of troubh," she says, when a new hobby is presented ; and" often she succeeds. Aud there is Robert, just starting out for himself under Aunt MereditB's special guidance. There is Frank, another nephew, generous and impulsive, a regular tinder-box in temper, with May, his sister, always ready, in her love for teasing, to put the m uch to the tinder-box. Aud there is Richard happy, rollick ing Richard, of whom Aunt Meredith is never quite sure until she has herself tucked him in bed and sung him to sleep. Then here am I; a cripple, dependent upon Aunt Meredith for every ray of sun shine that has crept iuto my poor maimed existence since the day I opened my eyes to the life which, bfit for her, might indeed have proved a curse to me. So there are six ot us, all under her care. She thinks I 'am asleep, or else she would not have spoken of that fatal mistake which affected the current of so many lives. The firelight plays upon her needles as she patiently plies them. The blaze rises higher, and forms, as she sits out lined against it, a sort of halo about her gray .head. She is thinking of the past, I know, and that "mistake," while she sits there waiting. Robert is doing some extra book-keeping, and will not bs in until ten o'cloclc. May an 1 Frank are bmy with their les sons in the sitting room. Uncle Clay rode over to Rich'.and to-day, and did not return until late. Richard is asleep, for I heard AuntMeredith singing "Rock - of Ages'r in the boys' room more than half an hour before she went down to give Uncle Chy his supper. While she sits waiting for the last one J5f the household to come in, I am lying here thinking over that mistake she made. Indeed, I often think of it. We crip ples have so litt!e else to do except to study books and people, and all these tedious years I have studied her until I think I know her great soul by heart. And I know all about that "sad mis take," although she docs not dream that it is known to me. If I were to tell her that I learned from her own lips to call it a mistake," I am sure that she would thiuk the affliction that has .dwarfed and tortured my body for "almost forty years has attacked my mind as well, for she dees not really look upon it as a blunder. If she ever allows ht-r.-elf to thiuk of it as such, it is only when she is troubled Rud tired; and her thoughts go crowding back, to fasten themselves upon the brightest spot in the post. , Such moments come to the bravest and best of us. Rut I heard Aunt Mene dith tell Uncle Clay only last night that "there can be no blunders in God's plan ;"' and if J she can stand up so grandly amid the ruins of youth's prom ises ana testify to the perfection of the eternal plan, few indeed have the right to sit ia judgment ou it. I feel the warm tears trickling down my cheeks as I watch the figure in the firelight. I can remember the day when this white-haired woman, knitting stock ings in the chimney corner, was the mer riest giil in cur village. 'And the handsomest one," people said. "Aud the best one," John East mau declared, when he asked her to be his wife. "And the happiest one," I heard her tell herself when John was gone, and with him her pledge: I was a child then, but I remember it. ,"m :l c'r'W now? fr tfct matter; a child in body, a man in years; -but I re member it all as plainly as if it had been jesterday. I thiuk we crippled ones have keener memories than those who share the mind's work Uh the bo jy. Aunt Meredith was an orphan, aud had been reared and cared for by jny mother, her only sister, and Uncle Ccorge, her eldest brother. The brother and sister tenderly dis ; charged their duty toward her, and Aunt ; Meredith, always conscientious, felt that i an immense' debt was accumulating ; against her; so that, when my dying nidthtr placed mj hand in hers, and with her last breath caid, "As I have dealt with you, Merry," there was but one thing for Aunt Meredith' to do. 8b ac cepted the charge of the little cripple committed to her cart. She was young then just twenty and was soon ta have been John East man's wife. When she had accepted the new charge she sent for her lover to tell him that the the marriage must be postponed. He protested, but Aunt Merry was firm. "Jost one year, John" ijhe in sisted. "Then we shall bo better pre pared to accept the new charge." She would not say "burden," but it was a burden to lay upon her young shoulders a cruel sacrifice to ask of one who, haTing never known a home of her own, was about to step into that sweet peace which is found nowhere but about the family fireside. But she did not hesitate. "I am only paying interest on the debt I owe his mother, John; I can never hope to pay the principal," 6he urged. John Eastman smothered his disap pointment, and said, "It shall be as you wish, Merry; but it will be a very long year to me." r Before the year ended Uncle George's wife died, and her two children, Robert and Annie, were added to Aunt Merry's charge. She hesitated when Uncle George came to ask her to come over and take charge of his house. 4 . "No, Georgt," she said, "I caunot." "Just a little while, Merry," he begged, "until we can get thing3 in working or der; just one y(ar." "But there is John!" she insisted. "I owe something to John." "And to ho one else, Merry?" aske'd Uncle George. "What if Eunice and I had not cared for you when yoa were left alone?" She turned pale when Uncle George reminded her of her obligation. After all, more Would be expected of her than the mere interest upon her debt. . Like many other debts, whether of money, of gratitude, or of affection, hers had come to face her at the moment when she was the least prepared for it. Her lips trembled when she attempted to speak; she put out her hand ns if seeking some support, aud rested it heavily upon the back of a chair. I can never forget that scene. Boy as I was, I realized that it was the sacrifice of a life. I lifted mv poor twisted body Lupon my pillow?, and from my corner watched the struggle my aunt was making-Uncle George stood leaning against the low mantel, looked heavy-eyed and wearv. Aunt Merry stood before him, with her hand upon the tallchair. The young face was growing grave the girl had given place to the woman. While I watched, the sunlight crept through the open window and crowned" the brown braids of hair with a kind of halo, ju?t as the firelight touches the silver ones to-night. Then Aunt Merry lifted her head and said softly, "I will come, George." So John Eastman was asked to wait a second time. "Just one year yet, John," Aunt Merry begged. "Let me feel that I have at least paid my debt in part." B.ut at the end of the year she said, "There is so 'much to do, John; let us give the children one more year. We can spare so much to them. Ju3t one! I promise not to aslc another, John." With a heavy heart he answered for the third time, "It shll be as you wish, Merry." I think Aunt Merry began to feel then that an unseen power was shaping her life in a strange, uacomprehen led mould. Strange indeed! Before the year ended a scourge passed over the city. The Angel of Death hung his black ban ner on almost every door. Uncle Gaorgc was among the first to be stricken. "God bless you. Merry," he said; "don't forget the children; God bless you!" With the blessing still on his lips, he left us. Then she was glad that she had stayed with him; the sacrifice was fully repaid in that last blessing. But the next day little Annie laid her hot cheek against Aunt 3Ierry's, and cried out that tha fever was burning her throat. For eight days the little - life swung in the balance; but on the ninth she crept into Aunt Merry's arms and whispered, "Good auntie!" just once before death set a seal upon the childish lips. The black banner floated again from our door, aud met an answering signal through all the stricken town. Death played upon many heart-strings; but none, I think, were so entirely swept as was Aunt Merry's. She had scarcely seen the clay heaped upon the grave of little Annie before a messenger came for her. John honest, patient John East man was dying. Poor Aunt Merry! The blows fellso fast that she had scarcely time to. consid er the magnitude of one before a heavier sunk it out of sight. This was the lat; when the light left John Eastman's eyes, hope left Aunt Merry's heart, to follow into and fix it self upon that unknown land into which his soul had drifted. " "Don't reproach yourself," he had said, at the. last; "you did your duty, Merry. God bless you!" We never called her "Aunt Merry" after that never but once. It was the day they buried-John Eastman; and she turned to me with a look of hopeless sor row upon her pale, sweet face, and said, "Call me 'Aunt Mere.Jith,' child." The years have crowded fast, in spite of crippled bodies and hearts .that give back ccholess answers. Thirty and live; I have notched them "upon my crutches; ten upon two, the last one fifteen. For the twisted body is well-nigh spent, and the last crutch is as good as new, save for the notches where my knife has re corded the years. I have borne my burden tolerably, with Aunt Meredith's help. She has borne hers grand I v, without help. Without helpdid I say? Then I spoke too quickly; for one evening I found her sitting alone on the west piaz za, among the honeysuckles and jasmine vines, watching the sombre cloud-banks jyilitfg across the sunset or forming into a purple bridge to span the crimson cloud-lakes. -; She did not hear my crutch npon the soft sward, and her voice was scarcely more than the hum of the ; bees in the yellow jasmine bells. ' i "No man, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is -fit for the kingdom of God." Every ttep of my life, the clouded and the cloudless, " has been blessed - and brightend by her. She has paid her debi,Mnterest and principal, and is now herself the lender; for when Uncle Clay's wife died ten years ago, four others were admitted to her householdUncle Clay himself, Frank, May and Ttichari. " Frank and May have both beenlnto say good -night since I have been lying here, thinking about Aunt Meredith's mistake. May hugged her with both arras, and said, softly: "The blessedest, best auntie;" while Frank stood a mo ment behind her chair and softly stroked the silver braids and recounted the day's trials and its pleasures. "I shall be a man soon, and take care of you, Aunt Meredith," wa3 his good night. 1 Aunt Meredith nodded and smiled, and went to open the door for Robert, pausing as she passed my lounge to draw the covers more closely about my shoul ders, while VI lay here as if asleep. Then for half an hour she and Ro bert sat there before the- fire, while Robert told he everything. First,' he had thought he might take still another set of books to keep. By staying an hour later every night h could accomplish it. ; But Aunt Mere dith said "No, dear. It is not right to stay out so very late;" and the! books were given up. Then the clock struck half-past ten. Robert rose and lightedj.unt Meredith's candle; and again the halo seemed to form around the .silver braids, and showed me the smile uponher pale face as Robert bent his head to kiss her faded cheek. Now she is gone,' and it is Robert who bends over my pillow and whispers, "Poor Clarence!" as he draws the cover ever so lightly over mj chest. And now, he, too, is asleep; but his bed is so' near that I can touch him if I choose. A little silver call-bell is in reach on the other side. ' "You may want water, dear," Aunt Meredith said, when she put . the bell there; as if! did 'not know What it is Aunt Meredith fears. It is the black banner on the door-knob. But I am not thinking of that to-night. I am thinking of Aunt Meredith ; ; and thinking of iier life, so- full of promise and so barren of fulfilment, and of "my life so devoid of promise, and yet so full of peace. 1 am thinking, too, of the lives of the children asleep in their beds; of the young man about tb euter the world pure of heart and strong of purpose; of the graves of the two men who blessed Aunt Meredith with their last breath; of the dying pillows made easy by her prom ises; of the little child who only left the shelter of her arms to slip away to God's. When I remember these, I bless Aunt Meredith's mistake. Youth's Companion. A Well Developed Skull. "The frog has a huge skull, with a very small brain cavity and an enormous mouth for the purpose of swallowing fish, 3mall ducks or any other" prey of size, whole. Dan Beard, the irtist, tells a story of a pet frog he had in an aqua rium that attempted to get away with a baby alligator newly imported from. Florida. On coming home he found Mr. Frog, who had taken down the small saurian head first, jumping against the giass side of the aquarium in vain efforts to drive down the tail of the victim, which was too long to find room inside for its accommodation. The frog, like the toad, has its tongue fastened in front and loo.e behind, so that it can capture iusects by whipping it over and outwardly. Unlike the toad, however, it has its teeth in its upper jaw. The toad is a higher animal than the frog, because it gives birth directly to little air breathing .toads, whereas the frog lays eggs that produce tisa like tadpoles, subsequently transformed into the final shape. The tadpole breathe3 through gills like a fish, has a tail and no legs and is a vegetable feeder. The meta morphosis it undergoes is one of the most marvelous things in nature. If it were not so common it would astonish the world. Think of a vegetable eating fish with tail and gills turning into an air breathing land animal, developing teeth and becoming, a carniverous quad ruped. Isn't it amazing when you come to consider it? A wonderful beast is the frog, truly. Waihington Star. The Decimal Scale. The disadvantage of the decimal scale is that the number tea can be onjy di vided without leaving a fraction. A ! duodecimal scale of numeration would' have been much better, and, in fact, is much more in accordance with our pres- ; ent system of weight, meisure and coin- age. Had the Chaldeans or Arabs, who i instituted the decimal scale Of numbers ! from their ten digits., only taken it from ; the giants among them, who, like the giant of Gath, had twelve digits as well j as toes, the result .vould have been much j more satisfactory to all calculating indi- i viduals among succeeding generations, f as well as those of our civil . service. ! .Ttmple Bar. . . Grim Joie on a Clown. j Sam Welser, who achieved fame and fortune as a clown in Dan Rice's circus,' i found himself three years ago alone in ! the world at seventy-three with one hun- dred thousand dollars in bank. Deter- i mineShtdP leave his money to his wife, he : wooed and wedded a pretty lass of fif teen. The other day he buried his child wife at Pittsburg, and the heartbroken old man has only his seventy-five year?., his sorrow and his money left. Death played his grimmest joke on the poor old clown in sparirg hi life. Xtu York Mercury. THE MERRY SIDE OF LIFE. STORIES THAT ASS TOID BY THE BTJNNY MEN OF TEC PBES3. A Tartar Idyl Anomalous Discrimi nating Qult Us Horrors Veiled He Couldn't Stand It, Etc, Etc. Now Razoola Khan Was as fine a man As ever you want to sea, He lived in state , Asa potentate In distant TarUry. But his daughter TjOD Was a maiden who. Being neither young nor fair. With a saw-hke voice and aternpar tirt. Was a regular drag on the nuptial mart For to marry her none would dare. But the potentate. Growing desp-irat?. With the sandless Tartar swalls. Resolved to try And a spouse supply For this cream of Tartar belle3. In vain wera bribes I Among the tribes, And so he caught a Tartar, And offered to him, without waste of breati, The choica of boiling in oil to death. Or a marriage with his darter. The Tartar grim Shook in every limb. But manfully made reply: "If you offer life With such a wife I rather prefer to die!"' Says the Khan: "My lad, If thing are so bad, I think I'll changre th3 group, 'Tis you had better live, by far; To Tartar Loo we'll say ta-ta. And put her in the soup! Harvard Lampoon. v AS WROUGHT BY 1IIM. Jinks (soothingly) "Your wife was a bud when you married her, Mr. Breezey." Breezey (sadly) "Yes, but she's in fullslow now, I can tell you!" New York Herald. TOO SLOW FOR THAT: "Just look at that messenger boy sit ting there fast asleep!" ' "H'm, well, he's asleep, but I doubt if he could be fast asleep." Saturday Evening Herald. ANOMALOUS. Student " tVha is the most peculiar thing about your profession?" Doctor "When I have to charge ten dollars a day for treating a man whose life isn't worth two cents." Life. DISCRIMINATING. Paying-teller VYcm will have to be identified have some one introduce you to mc: before I can cash thi3 check." Young Lady (haughtily) "But I do rot care to know you, sir." Mumey's "Weekly. " ' QUITS. Bride "Can you forgive mc and love me still, "vhen I confess that my teeth ijrc artificial?" Groom "Thank heaven(snatching off his wig)'; now I can cool my head." Broollyn Life. ITS nORRORS VEILED. Amateur Artist "I should like to pre sent the last picture I painted to some charitable institution; now, which would you recommend?" ' Cruel Lady Friend "The blind Asy lum." Life. NOT ALWAYS TIIE CASE. ' Debrag "Yes, when I charged him with stealing my $'20'J stop watch he hadn't a' word to say. That's a case whercsilence is golden." Jupkins 'Well, no; I should say it was ,uilU" Detroit Free Press. ' A STRONGER TIE. Lady(to small boy) '.'How did it hap pen that your little playmate gave you the largest piece of cake? Are you brothers':" Small Boy "No, mum; he's in love wita my little sister." Brooklyn Life. A WOMAN SCORNED. "I am angry at that Mr. Muffy. He met me on the stairs just now with both my hands full of dishes, so I couldn't help myself." "And he kissed you, I suppose?" "No, he didn't." Detroit Free Press. A STAGE FRIGHT. Sock "Did you ever have the' sensa tion of stage fright. Buskin "Yes, once." Sock "When was that?' Buskin "Once .when I was on the Dead wood coach, and it was held up." Boston Courier. A GREATER THAN GEORGE. "D") you think Blink3 is a clever man?" "Yes. In one point, at least, he ex cels George Washington himself." "What do you mean?" "Why, Washington couldn't tell a lie." Munsey's Weekly. HE COULDN'T STAND IT. Mr3. Denslow "John Deaslow, take your head right out of that vase! What do you mean?" Johnny (in a smothered tone) "Miss Pettigrew jest said I wuz th livin' image of Grandpa Woolback, an' I'm 'shamed to be seen." Judge. . THE WEAKEST SPOT. "These is one thing about the gwip," said Chappre, who was ju3t recovering from it; "it alv way3 attacks the weakest part.' VSo I understand." said Miss Sharne; "you had it all m the head, I believe." St. Louis Star-Sayings. CONSIDERATE. Spiggit (who stutters) "Y-y-y-you are a f-f-f-fraud, sir." Gargoyle "Confound your impu dence! If you didn't stutter I'd make you swallow your words." . gpiggit "What d-d-difference does thatm-m-make?" Gargoyle "I'm afraid you'd choke oa the hyphens." -Judge. i . i HE HA.D HEARD THE tECTTKB. Then, when you have finished yoor jecture," said the professor of elocution and deportment to young Dulle, "bow gracefully and leave the platform on tip toe." "Why on tiptoe?" queried Dulle. . "So as not to wake the audience," rc plied the professor. Xtio York Sun. SATrSFACTIOK. Henley "Smith and Jones each called the other a liar. Have they given each other satisfaction, yet?" Digbv "Yes." Henley "With fists or pistols!" Digby "No; they left it to a com mittee of two of Jones's friends and two of Smith's to say who was the liar, and the committee was evenly divideJ." Life. A CHECK OF; ANOTHER SORT. Chinner "I bear that Miss Roxy's papa gave her a check for ten thousand dollars when she was married last week." Codling "Speaking of wcJding checks, I received one myself last night." ' -,: v Chinner "Indeed?" Codling f'Yes; I asked Miss Scadds to marry me, and she said Judge. . no." FEMININE INVENTIVE GENIUS. Miss Van Nilla. "The Scientific Neics says ice-cream freezers were invented by a woman." Mr. Promenpd '1 don't believe it." Miss Van Nilla "Humph! Perhap3 you think women incapable of inventing anything?" Mr. Promenod "N-o. Women doubt less Invented ice-cream saloons." Neto York Weekly. "THE LAY OK TM LAST MINSTREL." Primus "Briggshas been courting an heiress, who, by the way, was old enough to be his mother, but she married ! his rival." Secundus "Yes, I know; and yet' Briggs sent them an epithaiamium he wrote and set to music." Primus "Very generous. Was it sung at the wedding?" - . -Secundus "No. The tunc was 'Old Hundred. '"Life. AN IMPOSSIBILITY. "Do you know Cheequ e, ' the fellow who used to travel for BiasfoldsJ fc Grosgrain? They say he is embarrassed." "What, my old friend Cheeque the drummer embarrassed! Oh, no; there must be some mistake." "Oh, well, failed then. He ha3 failcdjjf you like that better , "Ah! now you arc talking. Cheeque may have failed, but embarrassed! oh, no; that's out of the question." Boiton Transcript. THE VALUE OF MONEY. In a town up North an ex-Judge is cashier of a bank. One day recently he refused to cash a check offered by a stranger. "The check is all right," he said, "but the evidence you oiler in identify ing yourself as the person to whose ; or der it is drawn is hardly sufficient." "I've known you to hang a man on less evidence, Judge" was the stranger's' response. 'Quite likely," , responded the ex -Judge, "but when it comes to letting go of cold cash we have to be careful." Qlobc-Democrat. AN OBJECT LESSON. Stranger "Good morning! Is this the notary's office?" Clerk "No; on the opposite side of the road." Stranger "Thanks; good morning!" Exit, leaving the door open. Clerk (shouting after him) -"Won't you please shut the door? Or do you suppose it fastens itself?" : Stranger (re-eaters) "Allow mcto show you a sample of my new patent au tomatic double-spring door-fastener. .; It will close any door noiselessly, and is perfectly self-acting, and will last'a lifetime." JJumor UtUehe Blaetler. MRS. R. WANTED TO TALK HERSELF. Mrs. Jones "Have you seen Mr3, Smith lately?" Mff Iiobin8on "Yes. But yoa can't think how she's changed since her Johnny's had the measles!" Mrs. Jones "You don't mean it!" Mr3. Robinson r"Oh, there's no abid ing her at all. She ran on for an hour or more about Johnny how he was first taken down and what he said when he was cut of his head, and all that sort of thing. It was dreadful. I wanted to tell her about Mary Jane's mumps went there on purpose, in fact; but 't was no use; I couldn't get in a word edgeways. Well, well, how1 people change! She used .to" be interested in Mary Jane's mnmpsor pretended to be. - But, law I the way she's lifted up new is perfectly sickening. We'll never hear the end of Johnny's measles if we live till all .is bloc." , Mrs. Jcnes " Well, I'd never have believed it of Mrs. Smith.". 3Irs. Robinson "No more would I. And that's the aggravatmgness of it." Boston Transcript. "Mother Goose." "Mother Goose" was a' real character, and not an imaginary personage, as has been supposed. Her maiden name was Elizabeth Foster, acd the" was born in 1665. She married Isaac Goose in 1693, and a few years after became member' of Old South Church, Boston, and died in 1757, aged ninety-two years. The first edition of her songs, which were originally sung to her grandchildren, was published in Boston in 1716 by her son-in-law, Thomas Fleet. The house in which a great part of her life was spent was a low, one-story building, with dor mer windows and a red tiled roof, look ing something like an old English coun try cottage. Detroit Free. Prut. There are 13,000 different kinds of postage stamp Jnthejrorld. WHAT MODERN DIVERS DO. IMPROVED APPARATUS GREATLY INCREASES' THEIR SKILL The Iivcr Is an Important . Person and ills Labor a Factor in the "World's Progress. The remarkable headway which has been made of recent years in the way of inventions. for, and the manufacture of, the apparatus used by divers, has great ly facilitated the labor and lessened the ; dangers connected with what will al ways be .a dangerous calling.- This im provement in the apparatus they use has enabled the divers of to-day to per-" form a variety of work greatly . in excess of that which they Could have under taken a few ycara ago, and divers have now to understand pier construction,' wreck raising, submarine mining, the repairing and cleansing of vessels, and the construction of tunnels and collier ies. A depth of more than 150 feet it but very seldom descended to, and that depth is considered the limit for divers' work. The 204-foot mark below the surface was reached by a diver named ' James Hooper, and is said to be a best on record. He descended to it seven time3 and remained at that very excep tional depth for forty-two minutes on one of the seven descents. This feat was , performed .while examining a ship called the Cape Horn, which had gone down .with a valuable cargo of copper on tho east coast of SoutJkAmerica. When divers first begin to practise their profession they almost always de scend to the bottom or to tho vessel or whatever jt is they aro going to work on, by means' of a ropu ladder heavily weighted at the foot, but when they have gained in experience they prefer a simple rope, also weight td, down which , they slide. .Just below the surface they pause for a short time in order to mako fcure that everything About their dress is all right, and then continue on their downward way very slowly, so as to grow accustomed to the increasing pres sure. It is the habit of the most ex perienced men to stop at intervals, and if they feel any unpleasant symptons to descend for ayardor so before going down a greater distance. If there i3 great oppression or a loud " singing in the carsv the diver must not persevere in his attempt to go down, but returnto the boat or dock. Oddly enough, it is even more necessary to as cend slowly from a considerable depth than it is to ascend in that manner. ' By stopping every now and then, the ill effects of the sudd en change trom resist ing a great pressure to being in the open air are avoided. It take3 a very strong and experienced man to undertake any work at a depth of 125 feet, and in com-' ing up from that depth a man should, take at lCast five minutes. , When a direr has reached the foot of hi3 ladder or rope he attaches a light line to it and secures the other end to his wrist, so as to be able to get back to tha ladder whenever he wishes to. In case .this line should become unattached and he cannot find the ladder he should at once give the signal to be pulled up. There is one, type of diving dress that is a recent invention, and which is not connected with the surface with the usual vital airpipe and the all-important-signal cord. It is called the self -feeding dress, and has a small supply of oxygen in the reservoir. The first time it was used was by a fearless English diver named Lambert, whose record for daring and successful work beneath the surface is a remarkable one. The great tunnel under the mouth of the river Severn, in England, became -flooded in part, and he descended the "shaft and worked his way for a quarter of - a mile in the absolute darkness through what was called a baby tunnel which was nearly filled with a rushing torrent that carried with it much heavy debris. His object was to close a heavy iron door, and he bad to carry an iron crowbar With him.'1 After a hard strug gle he 'reached the door and found that two rails bad to be pried up in order that the door could be closed. After two hours' work he got one out of the way and then, dreading the exhaustion of his supply of oxygen, he retreated to the mouth of the shaft and was drawn to the surface, with a very small quantity re toaining. The next day, after renewing the supply, he went into the tunnel again and succceeded in' closing the door, and thus enable 1 the engineers to pump, the flooded portion dry. Lambert has been a diver for aquar ter of a century, and has visited every part of the world during his professional career. Once he recovered $350,000 worth of gold Spanish doIU$ and ingoti which had been lost in a mail steamship called the Alphonso XIL, which sank off Point Gaudo," Grand Canary Island, in 160 .feet of water. The treasure, 500,000 in all, was in a small room be low three decks, and Lambert fint bad to blow a portion of the vessel up in or der to get at it. . This feat he considers . his most praiseworthy, and he wears one of the gold pieces he saved, on his watch " chain. Divers have also, saved $250,000 in gold and silver from a steamship sunk off the Chinese coast, near Shanghai. Just as they had recured it a fleet of pifate junks came along. Sad the diver' . vessels had a very narrow escape from being captured. Ia the pearl and sponge fisheries in various parts of the world the diving dress has almost superseded the old methods of having naked native divers, and the output has consequently been very largely increased. As jet the coral fishers in the Medi terranean and The amber fishers ia the Baltic have nearly all 'proved too con- "v servatiye to adopt the modern methods; but in one case, where a London dealer in diving apparatus and dresses sent a man down to search for coral, the diver came back with a large supply of choice specimens, and the"bwner of the fishery has used the dre3S ever since. N York 8un. ' Italy has Aised the duty on petroleum. ' V " . )