THE CHARLOTTE MESSENGER.
VOL, 111. NO. 2
THE
Charlotte Messenger
IS PUBLISHED
Evory Saturday,
AT
CHARLOTTE, N. C.
In the Interests of the Colored People
of the Country.
Able and well-known writers will contrib
ute to nts columns from different parts of the
•comflTy, and it will contain the latest Gen
«erflZ News of the day.
he Messenger is a first-class newspaper
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serves the right to criticise the shortcomings
•of -all 'public officials—commending the
worthy, and recommending for election such
men tis in its opinion are best suited to serve
the interests of the people.
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of a newspaper to advocate the rights and
defend the inter, sts of the Negro-American,
(•specially in the Piedmont section of the
Carolinas.
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Address,
W .C. SMITH. Charlotte, W. C,
Bettor than a Vote.
They strolled together through the grove,
And as they lingered ou they way,
In fervid tone-; he told his love,
That summer day.
His ardent vows slio, trembling, heard,
Her cheeks with brightest blushes dyed,
And as her glances sought the sward
JShe softly sighed.
NSpeak. darling, speak,” the lover said:
“Oh. say my pleadings are not vaiul’*
She auswered not. but hung her head
And sighed again.
‘That you are diffident and shy,”
Ho said, “those downcast looks denote;
You will not speak? then you and I
Will take a vote.
‘lt is an easy thing to do;
A ballot, sweetest, cast with me,
The question being, shall we two
United be?”
Again she let her lashes fall;
Then murmured with a charming air:
“Dear Jack, why need we vote at al’,
Why can’t we pair?”
—Boston Courier.
A SELF-RELIANT WOMAN.
Helen Graves sat at her window, alone,
and gazed without looking into the
regions of space that opened before her.
Ti.e space was narrow, extending only to
the opposite side of Chestnut street, hut
her Vision was not hemmed in by wails
of red bricks, and shutters of white wood,
and doorsteps of white marble.
Indeed, I do not know that her vision
was turned outward at all, for introspec
tion showed upon her face, in her very
attitude, had there been any one there to
observe it.
But she was alone,and it was twilight,
and her thoughts ran riot.
“My birthday! Forty years of my life
gone, and what have they brought me?
Has -it, after all, been -life,’ or only ex
istence? Has it paid? What has it
brought me? Have the rewards been
equal to the sacrifice?”
Swiftly her thoughts turned back to
an evening in the far-away past—liow
long ago it seemed to-night—when two
roads had lain open before her, and she
must choose between them.
Two roads! And at the head of one
stood bravo Jack Merton—the good
friend of years, who had helped her
through the tangled maze of settling up
her poor dead father’s involved estate,
and secured for her the few hundred dol
lars that could be saved from the wreck.
At the bead of one, I say, stood Jock,
witli honest eyes that could always meet
his fellowman’s—or woman’s—and said
to her:
“Helen, my loved one, here lies my
way. Walk with me in it, aud my willing
arm shall gladly lift you over the stony
{daces; my eye search out for you and
ead you in the brightest paths. Come
witli me, my love, niy own.”
And as he held her hand and pleaded
manfully for the love she could not give,
she had" turned aside her head to hide
her tears, and had given answer:
“Jack, my friend, my brother, Ishould
wrong you beyond measure were I to say
from gratitude what love does not
prompt. I cannot marry you, nor would
you for one moment wish it, could you
sec my heart. Ido not love you as your
wife should love you—as you deserve.
It could only end in unhappiness for us
both; in the end we should come to
realize our mistake, and should vainly
beat against our prison-bars. Look for
one who can love you as you need, and
let our ways diverge.”
And Jack had answered:
“Helen, I had hoped, in tho new life
tnat Js opening out before me, to nave
you by my side. I had come to tell you
to-night that business of our firm in India
necessitates the presence there of one of
our house, to remain perhaps fur years.
It has been decide 1 that, as the junior
member of tho house, I should go. I
have loved you long, Helen, and haa
fondly hoped you could return that love.
Your father's death has left you poor,
for three thousand dollars—all you have
left from tho wreck—can never he in
vcstol sj as to bring you oven a bare sup
port, and you must see your little princi
pal constantly diminishing. I cannot
leave you here like this. Come with me,
Helen, my love, my wife! ’
And her answer had been:
“It would not be right, Jackl I do
not love you as I should love the man I
should marry, but rather as a friend,
long tried; a brother, if you will. You
ask me what I shall do? I had proposed
to tell you to-night, had not this hap
pened. When in Philadelphia, last
week, I made arrangements, after a care
ful computation of the cost,to enter upon
a course of study in the medical college
for women, and hope and intend to fit
myself for the practice of medicine
among women and children. I shall
study hard there, and live economically,
and have made an e timate that the
money I have will support me through
ray college course, and give me a year of
hospital study in Paris, before entering
upon my work here. The Dean of the
College—a noble woman—has but just
returned from a two-years course of
study under Madame La Cliapelle in
Paris, ani from her I have obtained close
estimates of the cost of living there, us
well as of my necessary expenses in Phil
adelphia prior to going there. Through
her aid I have secured boa. d in a quiet,
retired Quaker family, and I enter at
once upon ‘my career. ’ ”
“Hut Helen! my friend,” urged Jack,
look at the obstacles you must meet; the
opposition you must encounter. The
world is not ready to acccjpt women
physicians. And. after all, is not a
woman’s noblest, truest ‘career’ found in
her home ? In the hearts of husband and
children?”
And she had said: “Os the great
mas 3 of women, Yes. But it is not
given to all women to be happy and use
ful in their own homes; and to such
must happiness, or at least content, come
through work suited to their talents. I
cannot see my way clear to become the
•happy wife’ of a ‘happy husbaud’ whom
Ido not love, but I do believe I have
ability to make quite as able and consci
entious a physician as the average half
cducatied young man turned loose upon
the community by our medical colleges
at the ‘ldes of March’ each year. Yes,
Jack, there lies my ‘vocation.* Don't
try to turn me from it.”
And Jack had gone out to Calcutta,
and had never returned.
The years had sped on quickly enough,
each bringing its work, its cares, its dis
appointments and its rewards.
And as Helen Graves, sitting alone in
the twilight to night, looked over the
intervening years that lay spread like a
panorama between this night and that,
long years they seemed, and the number
of them eighteen—something formidable
to think of.
Eighteen years! And the girl of
twenty-two who stood at the other end
of the long vista, saying her tearful
good-by to Jack, seemed to her to bear
little relation to the Helen Graves who
sat with wide-open eyes staring into
nothingness across Chestnut street.
“Eighteen years! Jack was twenty
seven then! Now he is a middle-aged
man—married probably. I wonder what
he has grown to be like. Let me see!
liow many years since I heard from him?
Fourteen, Ido believe. Yes. Notone
word since the old days in the Rue de
Clichy, when I was almost ready to come
home and begin upon the new life. Poor
Jack! how he urged then that I give up
my purpose, and let him come on to Paris
and take me back to Calcutta with him.
But my years of study and preparation
lay behind me then, and the future, with
its hopes and ambitions, stretched be
fore. Ah, Jack! I wonder if, after all,
vour vision was not clearer than mine?
What have I gained, and what lost? To
night let me be honest with myself and
weigh it fairly. lam called a ‘suc
cessful woman.’ Well, as the world
goes, I suppose I am. My practice re
quires the greater part of my time. I
live in my own house in a fashionable
quarter—am driven in my own carriage
to make my professional visits. I have
my home, my servants, money—and the
friends which success brings to one.
Even my brother-surgeons admit my
skill, and commend the steadiness of my
hand. But ami happy? Oh, Jack! you
were right. In the other balance put a
husband’s love, and the voice of a little
child, calling ‘Mother,’ and it outweighs
all.”
And Dr. Helen Graves, the self-poised
woman, the keen-eyed surgeon, bowed
her head upon the window-sill, and the
hot tears flowed fast.
“The way has been hard, and I have
trodden it alone. Alone!”
And at the repetition of the word the
tears came faster.
And so absorbed was Dr. Helen Graves
in her dejection and misery, that she h id
not heard the entrance of a stranger,
whom Margaret had admitted, and was
only aroused frem her reflection by hear
ing a strange, deep voice saying:
••Pardon if I intrude, madam, but I
was directed to wait here to see Dr. Helen
Graves.”
Choking back a ghost of a sob, Dr.
Helen said, simply and gently:
“I am I)r. Graves. Pray be seated,
while 1 ring for lights.”
Margaret entered and turned on a
! lood of light; then closed the open win
low, and let fall the heavy curtain«.
Her soft footfalls diminished in the
listance and Dr. Helen Graves turned
jiquiringly to her visitor.
She saw only in him a stranger, come
probably to summon her to a sick wife
>r child.
As she stood under the chandelier, the
ighfc revealed to him not the Helen of
eighteen years ago, but a mature,
ft -manly face, with firm lines of chara>
;cr,. yet withal crowned with a tender
iwcctncss —the dark eyes a little red with
weeping, and the dark hair, now plenti
fully sprinkled with white, turned
j iooscly back from the fair forehead, a
little disordered, but lending, I think,
in the eyes of the grave, bronzed man
who stood before her, an additional
sharm.
“Helen!”
The voice seemed to touch a chord of
long-ago hrrmony.
“Helen, shall we finish tho journey to
gether?’*
It needed but another look to convince
CHARLOTTE, N. C. SATURDAY. JULY 17, 1886.
her that this brown and bearded, and
withal most distinguished-looking man,
was the once young Jack Merton whose,
image to-night had borne such a
powerful pait in her sad meditations;
and with the full grasp of the convic
tion came the glad csy:
“Oh, Jack! I’m so glad you have
come! It was all a mistake!”
And the that, had been so long
diverged at length led up to a glad con
vergence.—Frank Leslie's.
Fainting.
The word swoon means the same as
the medical term syncope. It is due to
the failure of the heart to send the
necessary supply of blood to tho brain.
It may be partial, or complete. In the
latter case, the person suddenly turns
pale, and soon falls, with a loss of con
sciousness and an apparent stoppage ol
the pulse and heart. The breathing, too,
is either imperceptible* or occurs ouly in
occasional weak sighs. The patient, to
the ordinary observer, may seem to be
dead. Os course the action of the hcait
has not ceased, but it in feeble. Th s
condition may last only a few moments,
or it may continue for hours. It gener
ally ends in recovery, beginning with
sight movements of the features and
hands and deep- sighing. The pulse
becomes more distinct, and the heart
beat stronger. Color and warmth return,
and consciousness is gradually restored
iu full.
Among the causes arc organic disease ol
the heart, especially fatty degeneration,
extreme heat, combined with impure air
loss of blood, or impoverished blood (ns
in an:cmia); the reflex a t ion of certain
conditions of the stomach or other or
gans on the heart. More or less of these
causes a e sometimes combined. Some
persons faint from very slight causes—
an unpleasant sight or odor. We have
known persons to faint easily and often,
nnl yet enjoy good health to extreme
age. But when fainting is due to or
ganic disease of the heart, or to loss ol
blood, or to extreme heat, it may prove
speedily fatal unless soon relieved.
In its treatment, lay the patient flat or.
the back. This favors the flow of b ood
the brain. We had a friend who could
generally anticipate an attack, and check
it, or cut it short, by at once taking a re
cumbent position. Never allow one wlic
has fainted to be lifted into a sitting pcs
ture, or to have even the head raised. I)
the fainting is due to excessive los? ol
blood, this, of c )ur?e, must be arrested
Meanwhile manage to place the head
lower than the rest of the body. Th«
heart, too, should be stimulated wit!
some form of alcohol, ammonia, ether, oi
cologne-watcr. In all cases, secure th<
purest air, and loosen the dress, espe
cially about the chest and neck.
A writer in the Lance 1 says that ir
many cases a person accustomed to faint
from slight causes may avert the attack
by applying heat to the head.— Youto'.
Companion.
Obeying the Letter.
In “a government of laws and not of
men,” as the Constitution of Massachu
setts puts it, the people strenuously in
sist that the forms of law shall always
be observed. A long while ago, the
Burghers of Stralsund, a city of North
Germany, were made indignant by seeing
a notice, signed only by the Governor,
posted on the Rathhaas, ordering every
one passing through the streets at night
to carry a lantern.
As the streets were not lighted, the
object of the Governor wa3 to secure
public safety and convenience. But the
burghers were angry that he should issue
the order of his own motion, instead of
transmitting it, according to custom,
through the town-council.
So on the first night after the publica
tion of the mandate, the citizens who
went out into the streets, and an unusual
number went, provided themselves with
lanterns, but put no lights in them.
The next morning another decree came
from the angry Governor, ordering that
each lantern should be furnished with a
caudle. When night came, the candles
were in the lanterns, in strict compliance
with the order, but not one of them was
lighted, and again the Governor s pur
pose was defeated.
Another order was then issued, com
manding that each lantern should con
tain a lighted candle. The citizens
obeyed, but hid the lanterns under their
coats. Upon this the Governor became
furious, and order d the citizens, under
penalty of punishment, to expose lighted
lanterns to view. The burghers again
did just as they were bidden, but pro
vided wicks so tiny that the light there
by produced was no bigger than that of
a glow-worm.
The Governor then yielded, and com
municated his order through the town
council. From that time the streets
were properly lighted by numerous
lanterns. Moreover the burghers had
won the victory finally, and thereafter all
orders went through the process of ap
oroval.—Youth's Compani/n.
The Mice aud the Cat.
A number of Mice once held a conven
tion for tho purpose of adopting means of
defense against a Cat that was making
herself very pervasive in the neighbor
hood, and finally decided to put a bell on
the monster. A committee appointed
for the purpose straightway put a brass
bell on the Cat while she was taking an
evening nap. But thereafter the sound
of the bell was so terrifying that no mouse
could sleep when the cit was anywhere
in the vicinity, even when there was no
real danger; and, finally, the alarm be
came so general that the neighborhood
was entirely cleared of mice, and the
Cat held possession of the field.
Moral—This Fable teaches that t i in
ventor in devising a new kind of ct non,
should make allowance for recoi ani
back-action. - -Life.
SELECT SIFTINGS.
While a man in Clinton, Pa., was pre
paring to go to bed ho was struck b j a
thunderbolt and had all the clothing
stripped from his body, leaving him un
harmed.
A large ball to the thumb in a bad
hand promises a leaning to all sorts of
self indulgence; but in an artist’s hand it
indicates love of color and gifts of ex
pression by means of color alone.
An accident in a Melbourne foundry
led to the discovery that plunging iron
castings into a mixture of treacle and
water softens the metal to such a degree
that it can be worked as readily as
Wrought irdn.
A slave could be bought for about
seventy-five cents in ancient Rome. This
was at the time of the conquest of Great
Britain, and one single Roman family
ow ned as many as 400 slaves. Among
them were some well-educated and supe
rior people. Some were doctors, aome
were tutors to the children and some
were artists.
Some of the monasteries in England
in the eighth century were presided over
by ladies. There was a famous one at
Whitby iu Yorkshire which was ruled by
the Abbess Hilda. She belonged to the
royal family. She trained up many cler
gymen, and no less than live bishops.
Caedmon, the first English poet, dwelt in
her abbey.
The first light ever hoisted over the
Capitol at Washington, in 1847, was a
lantern on a nast towering about one
hundred and fifty feet above the dome.
The mast was secured by heavy iron
braces. The lantern was surmounted by i
a ball and weather vane. With the glass
in the lantern it weighed about eight j
hundred pounds. It contained largo
burners, and when lighted it illuminated
not only the entire Capitol grounds, but
all the higher portions of the city.
The Chinese have the following legend
about the invention of the fan: “The
beautiful Kau Si, daughter of a power
ful mandarin, was assistirg at the feast
Df lanterns, when she became overpow
ered by the heat. She wus compelled to
take off her mask. But, as it was illegal
to expose her face, she held her mask be
fore it, and gently fluttered it to cool
herself. The court ladies present noticed
it, and in an instant a hundred other
hands were waving their masks. This
was the birth of the fan, which to-day
takes the place of the mask in China.*’
The vane, or weathercock, must have
been of very early origin. An old Latin
writer calls it triton , evidently from an
incient form. The usual form on towers
ind castles was that of a banner, but on
icclesiastical edifices it generally was a
weathercock. There was a symbolic
leason for the adoption of the figure of
i cock. The cross surmounted by a ball,
‘.o symbolize the redemption of the world
t>y the cross of Christ; and the cock was
placed upon the cross in allusion to the
•cpentance of St. Peter, and ns a re
ninderof the important duties of repent
mce and Christian vigilance. :
Origin of Pockets.
The origin of portable property has
bee connected by a daring philosopher
with the origin of pockets and the decline
of primitive religion. The argument,
though fallacious, is sufficiently clear and
admits of being stated briefly.
Before clothes were in common wear,
how did man assert and maintain his
right in arrow heads, flint knives, shells,
bone fish-hooks and the other objects
which, if clothed, he would have carried
in his pockets? New Zealand and the
South seas generally furnish the answer.
The owner, if he had the mana, or
spiritual power, tabued his property. He
let it be known that a curse would fall on
any one who meddled with it. This
plan worked very well, and still works,
in New Zealand, where a slave native
in the King’s country would die at once
liefer than touch any article belonging to
a rangatira, or gentleman, and theretoro
tabued. Probably this device, which
among the Hebrews of Lcaiticus took the
shape of the penalties and disabilities ol
“unclean” persons, acted efficaciously
enough while men were under the stress
of early superstitions and mere more oi
less naked. But faith went out and
clothes came in. With clothes came
pockets. With pockets came the idea ol
portable property and the legal punish
ment of theft.— Ht. James's Gazette.
Growing Old.
It is the solemn thought connected
with middle life that life’s lust business is
begun in earnest: and it is then, midday
between the cradle and the crave, that a
man begins to marvel that ho let the days
of youth go by so half enjoyed. It is the
pensive autumn feeling; it is the sensa
ton of half sadness that we experience
when the longest day of tho year is pa-t,
and everyday that follows is snorter,and
the light fainter, and the feebler shadows
tell that Kature is hastening with gigan
tic footsteps to her winter grave. So
does man look back upon his youth.
When the first gray hairs become visible,
when the unwelcome truth fastens itself
upon the mind that a man is no longer
going up-hill, but down, and that the sun
is always westering, he looks back on
things behind. When we wore children
wc thought as children. But now there
lies before us manhood, with its earnest
work, and then old age, and then the
grave, and then home. There is n second
youth for man, better and holier than his
first, if he will look on, and not look
back.— V. W. Robertson.
* The Most Abont Women.
"Mr. Duscnberry, you’ro nothing bui
a bundle of conceit, so you arc. You
don’t know half as much about women ai
you think you do.”
“I’ve an analytical turn of mind, mj
dear. 1 know how to use my eyes. 1
always see what is going on.”
. “Oh, you do, ch? Well, what do yes
generally see about women;” _
I “Tha men, my dear.”— CaU.
Terms. $1.50 per Annum SinUe Copy 5 cent
SWEPT BY A HURRICANE.
AN UNSHACKLED FURRY LET
LO:SE UPON THE PBAIBIE.
Vivhl Description of a Wind Storm
Upon tlio Western Plains—A
Mighty Besom of Destruction.
We were encamped on the open prairie,
seventy miles from the nearest range of
hills, with not a tree or bush in sight as
far as the eye could range. A few rods |
to the east was a dry ravine, perhaps six
feet deep. It was one of those queer i
freaks of the prairie, beginning nowhere,
ending nowhere, and not to be seen uutil I
one rede into it. It crooked and turned j
like the trail of a serpent, but one look- j
ing across the prairie saw nothing but t
dead level.
Night shut down as soft as a whisper, I
and "the stars came out and looked
cheerily down on the of the men i
who rested after a hard day’s work.
There was not wind enough to turn a
feather. There was no sign in the |
heavens that danger menaced. At mul
night the wakeful sentinel felt a gentle
puff of wind lifting h.s long hair, and
iroui some distant point the bark of a
coyote was waft„d to his ears. Ten min- i
utes later the grass about him was bend
ing to a breeze, and the unsecured flaps
of the tent began to whip. One of the !
sleepers was aroused to make things se- l
cure, and he was none too soon. Away J
off to the west w T as heard a mighty rush
ing as the grass swished in the wind, and
dozens of dark forms skurried past the
tent in tho direction of the ravine. The |
animal life of the prairie had become S
aroused.
Not in puffs, but with a front like a r
wall the wind came out of the west, in
creasing in strength every moment. An '
hour after midnight the sentinel could j
no longer stand against it, and the sleep- j
ers had been aroused to hold the tent m (
place by main strength. A quarter of an |
hour later it was picked up as the human !
breath blows a feather away. Men
shouted and screamed at each other, but
the wind took the words from their lips |
and whirled them away unheard. Blown j
along like so many puppets the band fell ;
into the ravine for shelter, followed two j
minutes later by all the horses. The
alarmed animals crowded up close to j
their human friends, and then all lay j
down for further security. The wagons |
were heard rushing away to tumble into
the ravine further down, now and ■
then saddle or blanket or cooking utensil j
flew over the ravine or fell among the |
fugitives.
Afar up the mighty mountains a Tial
of wrath had been uncorked. Through
the gloomy canyons—down the awful
precipices—over the pine-clad slopes
rushed a hurricane in search of victims.
It leaped down from mountaiu to foot
hills with the roar of an angry sea, and
it left the foot-hills for the level prairie
bent on terrible destruction. Across
seventy miles of level it dashed at us
with the fury of a tidal wave. It grew
with its fury, and at 3 o'clock no living
thing could have faced it. At 3 the
storm swept prairie kept up a continuous
trembling, as if a volcano was about to
break forth near us. At 4, whea day
light broke, the air was choked with
grass torn up by the roots, and the
roar was appalling. Men clung to each
other and to the grass, and now and
then, as the roaring died out for
a few seconds, the frightened horses
neighed their terror. NNhen the wind
blows sixty miles an hour it is a hurricane.
It was blowing harder than that to tear
up the strong prairie grass* out of the
so l. When the wind blows seventy
miles an hour great trees are uprooted
and barns are blown down. It was blow
ing harder than that to swoop up and
carry off our heavy picks anti axes. More
than seventy—more than eighty —more
than ninety—aye! that mighty wrath was
dashing over the prairie at the rate of s
hundred miles an hour. AA’e felt suffo
cated for the want of air. AYe were
deafened by the continuous roaring. AA’e
were exhausted by the desperate struggle
to prevent being scooped up bodily aud
carried out of the ravine. If it were
so with us, sheltered from the fury ae
we were, how must it have been with
those exposed to its full fo;ce! A
great wolf, from whom the life
was beaten out, rolled down among us.
The bodies of dozens of coyotes and rab
bits, in which every bone seemed broken,
dropped into the ravine. The wagons
were c raglit up at daylight, whirled in
the air lor a moment, and then disap
peared forever. Even the iron axles were
not to be found. Two or three objects
which no one could make out tumbled
over the bank below the horses. Some hours
later we found them to be mauled and
pounded and bone-broken bodies of
buffaloes.
At 5 o'clock the climax was reached.
It appeared as if the earth rose and fell
under us. One of the horses struggled
to his feet, and the next instaut he van
ished in the east. The force of the wind
bruised and pained. A rock weighing
tons, blown,perhaps, from tho foot-hills,
plowed down one bank and rushed up
tho ether to continue a iflaything for tho
wrath. Our breath came by gasps. 1 he air
chickened till it became twilight Half an
hour later the wind began to lull, tho
rearing to die away and the sky to lighten
up, and at 7 o'clock we were searching
the prairie in hopes of recovering some
one article belonging to what had been a
well-stocked camp. On the prairie we
found absolutely nothing. In the ravine
a couple of axes, two or three saddles,
an iron kettle and portions of harness.
The mighty wrath had hungered for
our lives, and, failing to get them, had
vengefully sought to rob us of our all.
Fire had not swept tbe prairie— an
army had not mat ched over it—-a flood
had not been let loose. It had encoun
tered a worse enemy. A howling, roar
ing, grinding hurricane had raaae it a
desert on which a hare might search in
vain to satisfy its hunger. —Detroit Free
Press.
MOMK.
Two birds within 000 nost;
Two hearts within on* breast;
Two souls within one fair
Firm leajtM of love and prayer,
Together bound for aye, together blot
An ear that waits to catch
A hand upon tho latch;
A step that hastens its sweet rest to win,
A world of care without,
A world of strife shut out,
A world of love shut in.
—Dora FerwwM.
HUMOR OF THE DAT.
One kind of egg plant—A chickrn
(am.
For the babj there should always be s
slip ’twixt the cup and the lip.—Mer
chant Traveler.
Does it not seem strange that we
thou d employ contractors to enlarge
buildings?— Rambler.
Knowledge is not always power
Every thief knows that there is plenty of
money in tho banks, but how is ne to get
at itl— CaU.
With ail his experiences, his business
and in conversation the barber is not al
ways acquainted with the parts of speech.
—Boston Budget.
Polite, but absent-minded bathor (to
triend up to his neck in water): “Ak.
Jones, very glad to sec you. Won't you
tit down!”— Li/e.
An English champion pigeon shot an
noneces that be “will shoot any man in
America for Jl.QOd.” Let him take a
pop at Apache Chief Geronimo. —
tntrgh Ckroniel ».
Landlady—“ The coffee, lam sorry to
say, is exhausted, Mr. Smith.” Boarder
Smith—“ Ah. yes, poor thing; I've no
ticed that for some time it hasn't been
very strong.”— Siftings.
Teacher—“ How many elements are
there?” little Boy—“ Water, fish,earth,
air and—” Teacher—“ There isn't any
other element, is there!" Little Boy—
“Oh yes, there is; there's the lawless ele
taent'in Chicago.— Siftings.
A young man in Gainsville. Fla., sent
73 cents to a fellow in New York, who
advertised “How to make money fast,"
He received from the New Yorker the
valuable information: “Take a paper
bill and make it fast to something with
paste.” The young man now feels that
life is a delusion.— Saeannak Weirs.
A lady living “OnthoHiil,” Roudout,
whose clock had ran down the other
night, asked a neighbor’s Utile girl if she
knew how to tell the time of day. “Yes,
ma'am,” replied the child. “Well,then,
will you just run into the house and se*
what time it is for met” “Oh, I don't
know how to tell that way. I only kaow
how when itstrikes,” was the reply."--.
Kingston IWmw.
A New Game on the Rail.
‘Yes, braking is pretty hard work
ind we don't get much fun as we gc
long,” said a Chicago freight brakemsii
:o a reporter, as bis caboose stood by tin
itation waiting for orders: “but there's
i new craze on among the boys whick
gives us a good deal of sport. It's freight
train baseball.
‘'Baseball on a frught train.”
“Yes, sir; and it's great fun, too. W«
ion’t do any batting, hut we're great oc
fielding. The head brakeman stands on
the front car, the rear brakeman iu tin
middle of the train, and the conductor
gets upon the caboose. Then we play
fitch, with the fireman for referee
here ain't many errors, now, let me tel
you. An e ror means a lost ball, and (
lean that lets it go away from him has tc
ouy a new one. The feller that makes i
wild throw, or the one that fails to stoy
a fair-thrown ball, is the victim. Tin
rraze has run so high that I'll bet then
ain’t a dozen crews running out of Chi
-ago that don't carry a stock of baseballi
along in their caboose.”
Tne Blarnej Stone.
Blarney, “town of tbe sloe ire*," h ?
triple attractions, writes a New Y’ork
Times correspondent from Ireland. The e
are the large tweed woolen mills, belong
ing to a brother of Father Prout, which
employ about eOJ hands, and are model;
of deftness and dispatch. Their products
ought to find favor m the I'nitea States
they plea<e the natives, Italians, Man
-1 Chester statesmen, poets and other per
sons who are not expeeted to care for
them. The bathing establishment and
cure is perfect tor well people who wish
to enjoy good food and a sight of tlu
groves of B arney at a comfortable dis
, tance —too near to make them a walk,
■ too far to stroll into them. Then then
| is Blarney Castle, with the stone espe
| cially meant fur London cockneys ami
rubbishy persona of that kind. Cork
people take pride in never having kissed
the Blarney stone, and spend much wit
on the tourist who invariably attempts
tbe exploit. As a matter of fact few ot
the townspeople have faded to do it
but, knowing how ridiculous they
looked, they prevaricate rather that
own un. As the stone ts in the battle
meat, low down and three feet out.with
sheerdescent fromthe tower unpleasantly
obvious, and as one must lie flat ovci
this space with little to rling to, and
then turn the head about to reach th<
stone with the lips, tue feat needs agility,
and is, perhaps, impossible for those wht
are nervous.
He Had Time to Go Fishing
“Dear me, lierown, you are not look
Ing well."
“I am very busy, J cones. Hardly havi
tune to breathe.”
“Why don't you take a varatioul 1
always "take about six every year. Mj
business doesn't occupy all of my time
I don’t let the customers bother me."
“Ah, yes, Jeones; but you don’t sit
vertise, and naturally are uot bothers*
i by customers. "~L\fe.