THE CHARLOTTE MESSENGER. VOL. 111. NO. 40 THE Charlotte Messenger KS PUBLISHED livery Salnrday, AT CHARLOTTE, N. C. In the Interests of the Colored People of the Country. Able and wall-known writers will eonttib un» to its columns from different parts of t.b*» country, and it. will contain the latest Gen cral News of the flay. Tiik Mivrskxof.ii is n flrst-elnss newspaper and will not allow personal abuse in its col mnns. It is not sectarian or partisan, hut independent—dealing fairly by ».|l. I» ve- MTvc? the right td criticise Vnc si orfeominpi of nil public officials the worthy, and i econimc;iding fur elect ion such men as in its opinion are stiit*d to serve • the interests of the; peophv It is intended *«e> supply the long foil- need of a newspaper to *dvddest demands for charity which have been received was one from a woman pro cessing to be the mothsr of triplets, who wanted money with which to buy a cow. The woman said in the letter that Pres dent Cleveland had contributed toward ‘his object, but he failed to send enough money. Colonel W. L. Utley, who recently died at Racine, Wisconsin., was “the ownerof the last slave on American soil,” says a correspondent of the Milwaukee Sentinel. When he was'in Tennessee with his regi ment, o colored boy escaped from his master and sought refuge in the Colonel’s tent. The owner came into camp the next day and demanded the surrender of his property, but Colonel Utley refused to iriye up the boy. Several years afterward the slave owner brought suit in the United States Court in the Milwaukee District for damage , and secured a verdict of 11.000, which Colonel Utley paid! ‘ This,"’ says the correspondent, “was the •ast judgment of the kind. Colonel Utley r.pulicd to Congress for relief, and mere than ten years after the emanc ipa ’inn proclamation he w as indemnified by •he government for the money he gave ?er the boy's freedom.'’ The teportsof the Challenger exploring expedition form perhaps the most elabor ate «nd expensive single work ever pub ic hed by any government, the net cost to Great Britain having been thus far about $200,00(1, an additional SOO,OOO having been rerovered from sales. No less that twenty-seven large quarto hav • been issued, illustrated by about *2OO full page lithographic plates, some eighty charts and diagrams, atm many hundred photograph* an I wood cats. At least, seven volumes more will ltc necessary, hut if ia expected that the whole work will he completed by March, 1888. The fa mous e\|M-dition which has thrown so much light on the of the deep sea, left England, it will he remembered. Dee# mhrr 21. 1872. and returned May 20. 1870, nftejpi voyage of more than 80, Os HI miles. The party, under Dr. Wyville Thompson, made dredging* and sound ing* in all the Ocean*, and secured im portant collection* representing a host of new diMa»vcrie* concerning submarine life and conditions. HOME. Ob! what, Is homo? that sweat companionship Os life the better pnrt; The happy smile of welcome on the lip Upbringing from the heart. ft fs the eagpr clasp of kindly hands, The long remembered tone, The ready sympathy which understands AH feeling by its own. The rosy check of little children pressed To ours in loving glee; The presence of our dearest and mir lx A, No matter where we be. And. failing this, a prihee may homeless live, Though palace walls arc nigh; And, having it, a desert, shore may give The joy wealth cannot buy. Far reaching as the earth’s remotest span, Widespread as ocean foam, One thought, is sacred in the breast of man It is the thought of home. T hat little word his human fate shall bind With destinies above, For there tho home of his immortal mind Is in God’s wider love. THE OLD SETTLER. HE ENl,tottTfcXß bltThr; PELfett. “Grandpop,” said little Pcteg, As he fingered a stiff-springcd patent clothes pin. and east a glartcC at the old cat that lay snoozing in the splint-bottom roek ingHiair. “Grrtndpop.” said he, “what are the wild waves saying?” Ibe Old Settler looked up from the pages of the local paper, in which he was reading an account of a hog-guessing match that had come off over at the Cor ners. He scowled over his spectacles at Peleg, who fitted the clothespin carefully on his nose and closed his mouth to sec how long he could hold his breath. “I hain’t beerd no wild waves a yellin’ anything very loud lately, ez I knows on.’said the Old Settler.' “W’ich wild waves is it th’t M’riar! Whack that young’un on the hack or he’ll bust ev’ry gizzard he’s got!’’ Peleg had hung on to his breath until bis eyes began to bulge out. and his face was ns red as his grandfather’s nose. He succumbed to the. inevitable before his grandmother could give him the whack. He opened his mouth and started his lungs to working again, but left the clothespin on his nose. His grandfather glared at him for a moment, and then eaid: “W irh wild waves is it th't yer speakin’ of?*’ “ Theb that rips and roars arou’d Co ney s find,” replied Peleg, his utterance stopped by the pressure of the clothespin on his nose. The Old Settler reached for his cane. “Peleg!” exclaimed his grandmother, “take (hai clothespin offen j r our nose! \c gimme a cold in the head to hear ye! What was ye moanin’ ter eav?” Peleg removed the clothespin and re peated his remark. ‘ ‘Them that rips and roars around Coney’s Island; that’s what I said. What are they saying, grand pop?” “Coney’s Island!” exclaimed the Old Settler. “W’at in Sam Hill do you know' bout Coney’s Island, or ‘bout any wild waves ez mowt or ez mowtn’t be arippin’ an’ a roarin’ ?” ‘ The new school ma’am from town boards to Bill Simmons’s,” replied Peleg, ‘ and t’other night she was telling us about Coney’s Island. She’s been there lots, and she told us that she could eet on the bank down there and listen to what the wild waves was saying all day long. I asked her what they was saying, and rhe said: ‘Oh! much, little boy!’ she didn’t say how much or what it was, and I asked Bill Simmons if he knowed, and he said he did but. wasn’t giving it a wax’. ‘Go ask yer grandpop,’ Bill said. If he can’t tell you,’ rays Bill, ‘the. world’s coming to an end.’ " That’s how I come to ask you, grandpop. Can’t you tell me?” “Yes, b’gor-h, I kin!” exclaimed the Old Settler, shaking his fist in the direc tion of the Simmons homestead. “I kin tell ye! Them wild waves is a sayin’, an’ they’re yoopin' it out go’s it kin be heerd from Coney's Island to sundown, th't the be?;’ thing you kin do is so keep shot o’ that Bill Simmons, or tliaz a shingle out thar in the yard that'll make the proper est kind of a paddle, an' if that paddle is made an’ used you'll hes to stan’ up fer mowj’n a week w’en yc cat yer slap-jacks an”)asscs! That's w’at them wilo waves is savin’, Peleg, an’ it's yer poor ol’gran’- pop this tell in' yc so, b’gosht’lmightv, an’ ye won't listen!” Peleg sat down by the. side of the splint bottom rooking chair. He said nothing. »,ut thought to himself, as he toyed with the clothespin, that if the wild waves had said all that to the sehoolma'm, she must have been more than pleased at their remarks about the paddle and the slap-jacks. The Old Set tler picked up his jmper again. Peleg's grandmother took her knitting and went off to the “settin’ ” room, and his grand father, after finishing the account of the hog guessing which stated that Pete Hellriggle had won the hog—and remark ing that if Pete didn’t trade the hog off for a bar'l o’ eider the w innin’ o’ it’d be a lucky thing fer hi* fam’ly, ez they’d hen browsin’ on sassy fra x all winter, he turned to Peleg and said : “Yes. my son, that’s w’at them wild waveri is sayin’. an' ez yer gran‘mammy lutin’! in bearin’ to git worried at. our talkin’, I'll tell ye w’at. some wild waves done to me w unst. Them waves didn't sav nothin', hut they jist got up an’done. This happened w’en I were a boy,consid’- ahh* many year ago. Twere on the ninth day of April, 1822, in the after noon. ] were jist cornin’ seven year old. Ther’ had lien a big rain fer two or three days, an’ I know'll th’t Sloplick (’reek must lie jist right fer sucker flailin', an* so I sneaked my |»ap‘s ehes’nnt pole an’ hosskiir line on ten the barn an’ cut crok* CHARLOTTE, N. C. SATURDAY. APRIL 16, 1887. lots fer the big bend o’ the creek, w’ich were jist over a raise o’ ground from our cabin in the clearin’, maybe four or five rod away, but out. o’ sight, ’cause ’twere in the Rulley, twenty-five foot lower*n the clearin’. An’ speakin’ G’ sucker fish m\ sonny* ye’ll see* ’foM 1 git. through with this lectio ftnhcaotfy th’t th’ was suckers in thc.cre'eks ih them days. Th’ haint none in ’em now, but tliujp a many o’ ofte outen the creeks, an’ big tin’s; toG. Wall, w'en I come in sight o’ whar b)’ Sloplick ortcr been jist more th’n bib ing, owin’ to the hard rains, I almos* tumbled back in a faintin’ fit. Th' waVt. no Sloplick thar! The bed o’ th*. creek were drycr’n a salt herrin’! Ez fur ez I could see down the creek, a picked chicken couldn’t a ben no barer th'n them rocks on the bottom was. The creek had a fall o’ morc’n twenty foot to the miled, an’ even in low water went down by thar, on its way to the river three miled below, like a jieelcd hemlock log down roll way, an’ that she were, nrtrrall them ruins, dry an’ empty from bank to bank, Peleg, I were skeertj and I tuck to tremblin’ truss th’n a hungry dog nt daylight on a frosty morn in’. I f.hqrt the world werfe Comiii’ to an end right thar an’ then. Pooty soon 1 got stiddy enough to look, up the Creek, an’ then I were skeert. wuss’n ever, fet* ’bout a quarter of a miled away, in that direction, thar w r ere the creek agoin’ bp stream ez fast ez it could tear! Goin’ right, up that big grade o’ twenty foot to the miled, Peleg, like a train o’ keers! W’en I see that I jist flopped right down an’ waited fer the ’arthquakes an’ Gab'rcl to come followin’ along, aeraekin’ an’ atootin’. I laid thar aw’ilc, but they didn't neither on ’em come, an' the crcck kep’ aelimbin’ up to’ards its headwaters, zif it’d ben sent fer to come back hum an’ hadn’t no time to spare gittin’ thar. Tt were movin’ back’ards in a flood more’n thirty foot high, ez nigh ez I could jedge ffom seein’ the gable end of it, and pooty soon I noticed that th’ were a heap o’ commotion on the edge of it. “‘Wall,’ says 1 to myself, gittin’ up outer my feet, ‘tb’ can't be nothin’ to hurt a feller in a flood th t’s doin’ its best to run away from him like that,’ says I, ‘an’ so I guess I*ll quit waitin’ fer Gabr'el an' the ’arth qUakcs,’ says I, ‘an’ ’ll jist start arter that creek an’ see w'at’s a ailin’ on it to make it go an' cut up that way,’ says I. “So away I dug ez tight ex my legs'd carry me, but the creek had got such a start o’ me that it tuck me a good half hour ’fore I ketched up with it. An’ ez soon ez I did ketch up with it, my son, I see to wunst. w'at were ailin’ on it. Ye must know, to git the hang o’this, Peleg, th’t suckers starts fer the creeks on the fust high water th’t comes in the spring, an’ th’t they gether together by the boat load at. the mouths of creeks waitin’ fer the flood th’t tells 'em things is ready fer ’em up the creek, an’ then up they go. That had been an onusu'l good season for suckers to winter over in, an’ they had waxed an’ grow’d fat, an’ gethered in such uncommon big crowds, th’t w'en they started in at the mouth o' Sloplick Creek that ninth day o’ April, they jest dammed the hull course o’the stream, an’ fer a time it had been nip an’ tuck ez to w'ich’d lief to stop, the creek or the suekers. But in them days suckers had vim an’ push in ’em, These fellers at the mouth o’ Sloplick had started to git up that creek, an’ ’twa’n't their fault, b’gosh, if it couldn’t furnish water enough, with all the rain it’d had fer a week past, fer ’em to wiggle up on, so they jist put their shoulders to the wheel, an’ at it they went, an’ shoved the rushin* flood of pi’ Slopliek right back with 'em, pilin’ it up in a wall thirty foot high, an’ beepin' her a movin’ back so fast, steep ez the grade were, th’t she couldn’t git no footholt, an’ had to fro. So, of course, ev’rything were left high an’ dry ahind that pushin’ army o’ suckers, an’ natur’ in them parts were lookin’ queer. “Peleg, when I ketched up to that, re treatin’ creek, nothin’ could be seen on face o’ that high wall but snouts, an’ tails, an’ fins, an’ backs, an’ bellies o’ suckers. They was piled on one another from the bed o’ the creek to the top o' the flood, pushin’ an’ shovin’ and crowd in* to keep the ball a rollin’. I see w’at the hull business meant to wunst, an’ I pitched right in to do some o’ the tallest •ticker fishin’ th't were ever hecrcd on along Sloplick Crcck. I chucked away my pole and duv inter that bank o’ suckers an’ jist went to minin’ fish by the ton. They kep’ moon a dead nin to keep up w ith ’em, they was h’istin’that stream up hill so fast, but I grabbed an’ clawed right an’ left, an’ throw'd suckers out on the hank by the wagon load. I strung suckers along the hanks fer a miled, an’ still the flood went a rollin’ uphill ezeasy ez pickin’ up sticks. The headwaters o’ Sloplick Creek was in a swamp almost on the top o’ Booby Ridge. Ez I were run nin’ 'long ahind that sucker bank all of a suddent it struck me that if nothin’ hap pened to stop ’em, them suckcrs’d shove the creek clean through the swamp, the way they was goin’, and push her on over the ridge, and then she’d £o tehoot down t’other side, and an’ wipe Slayerop’s clearing offen the face o’ creation quick er’n light nin* could melt a tub of butter. I were l>ound to see the fun, an’ if suck ers wa'n’t the timidest an’ skeeriest crit ters th’t swims, that fun’d a come to pass. “It had hap|>ened. sonny, th’t only the other day afore this high ol’ sucker fishin’ o’ mine, I had considered it a lec tle piece o’ duty I owed to the commu nity to pitch inter Hhadrack Jambcrry, oP Poke Jambcrry a s boy, an* lam him the projierrst kind. Consekently he had a grudge agin me. He lived close to the creek, nearly two iniled above our place, at the Fiddlcr’s.Klbow Bend. This l>end was so sharp th’t ez me an’ the stickers an’ the creek were cornin' to'ards the bend I see Hhadrack nt undin** on the bank, an* he see me. Th’ waVt nothin’ selfish about me, so I hollered to Hhadrack, to show him th't I din’t hev no hard feel in’s, to tome back an’ toiler the circus, an’ lay in a stock o’ suckers agin a coon famine. But Hhadrack wa’n't of a meek rtft’ fprgivin’s natur’ like me, an’ so, in slid o’ trtkirt’ the olive branch I offered, he grabs up a couple o’ big stuns no 1 chticks ’eiri in the Water tthend o’ me till* the suckers. That skeCrt the timid fish th’t was in the lead, itri’ they got dc inor'lizcd an’ tiirned tail. Thti panifc spread to the hull caboodle o’ suckers* an’ the fiist thing I kno'w’d 1 wCfe h'istod up in the air zif I'd ben blowcd U fi ini d blast, an’ wh-o-o-o! away I were goin' back clown stream like a hailstorm in a hurrycane o’ wind! Thar I were. Peleg, ridin* high an* dry on a big raft o’ suck ers, an’ a gfiin’ surapin’ like a miled a minute boun’ for somewhar, but whar I didn 4 t know. Y’c ortcr be very thankful, sonny, th't yer a livin’ now’, an’not in them days w'en us pioneers was a suffer in’ an’ a run nin’ risks like that, jist to filant civ’lization an' git it in shape fer oiks that's livin' now ! “I Were boosted way up so high by that tnft o’ deiUoriized suckers th't ez wetore along to’wards our folks's elcaritt’ I could look right down otcr the taise twrixt it ari’ the creek, an’ ez we come Higher 1 could sec my hard-workin’ pap settin’ in the cabin door smokin’ his rorn-cOb pipe, and my easy-goin’ mammy a choppin’ wood to git supper with. Thinks I(0 myself, I wonder if they’d fcvfcr find me when tiiis runaway flood o’ b’ilin’ watertt an’ panic-struck suckers comes to a head some'rs? An’ jist. then we struck the bend in the creek nigh the clearin’. The bend were ’bout ez sudden ez the angle in a ship-knee, an’ w’en the wall o’ suckers plunked agin it the bank o’ the bend bein’ twenty five foot high an’ all roek, 'twere like tho eomin* together o’ two in gines. The body o' the army were fetched up a standin', but me an’ the top layers o' the sucker raft was five foot highcr’n the rocks, an* as we hadn't hit. nothin’ we kep’ straight, on. We left the water route, an’ traveled the rest o’ the wav by the air line, an’ ’fore my good oi’ parents know’d w'at hit 'em they was kivered snug an’ comfort’ble in under sumpin’ like half nn acre o’ scukers, not countin' me. It took me quite a w'ite to dig the ol* folks out; but they wa'n't hurt anything wuth men tionin'. My folks wa'n’t noways noted fer bein’ curious 'bout, things, an' all th't were ever said 'bout that big 6uckrr fish o’mine was this. Mam says: ‘Whar'd ye ketch ’em?’ ‘ln the bend o' the creek,’ I says, ‘l've alluz heered,’ says pap, ‘th’t the best time to ketch suckers were on the fust flood, an’ this makes it good. An’ that ended it; but we had fresh suckers, an’ salt suckers, an’ smoked suckers, an' sucker pop from then on till the nex’ Chris'mas. So ye we, Peleg, that them wild waves didn't say nothin’ to me, but they got right up an’ done, an’ —” The Old Settler was cut short off in whatever moral he intended to draw, for the dozing cat hurled herself against his stomach by one wild leap from the 6plint bottomed rocking chair, and with a yell that scared a dog on the opposite side of the road, and brought Peleg's grand mother out of the sitting room on a trot. The cat sank its claws deeper and deeper into the Old Settler, and he joined in the yelling. Little Peleg went quietly out of the kitchen door, and by the time his grandmother had removed a patent clothes pin from the cat’s tail ho was half way over to Bill Simmons's. —Ed. Mott , in Afar York Sun. A Prairie of Pitch. I have just returned from a trip to tlfe so-called “Pitch Lake,” writes a cor respondent. from Port of Spain, Trinidad, to ’the Philadelphia Inquirer. Running -outh down the Parian Gulf to La Brea, some forty miles distant, from this port, we there disembarked, and, climbing a gentle accent of HO feet, wc found the lake, a little more than a mile inland. Strictly speaking, there is no lake in the "omnion .acceptance of the term, but a level plain, composed of a concrete, though flexible, mass of pitch, covering in area of perhaps 100 acres. Bushes, patches of vegetation and oc casional pools of brackish water diversity the surface here and there, giving It the appearance of a mud swamp. There it no difficulty in walking or wading from Dne end to* the other, for with the sol© exception of several places where the pitch is in a state of ebullition in a soft and viscid consistency the “lake” iR semi solid. On it I found chestnut-colored men ami women digging out large clods of the asphalt with ax and shovel and loading it upon donkey carts. Each lump of the asphalt exhibited nnall cavities, and wc were informed the diggers that they never dig deep enough to find the pitch at all softened. The roughen***! surface of the pits is ex posed to the tropical sun. and within a few days the cavities an* full again. From 80,000 to 40,000 tons of the asphalt ar© ring out every year, each cubic foot of the pitch weighing *>n an average sixty pounds. It is estimated that there arc in Ihe deposit not lews than 10.000,000 Itounds which, at the present rate of (lif ting, should last fully 8,000 years. Safe DcposlJ Companies. The idea of safe deposit companies, so 'oinmon and successful, originated with the proprietor of a drinking saloon near Washington Market. The butchers used !o bring their tin boxes to him for storage aver night in his safe, until finally he ?oul*l not accommodate them all. At tending an auction sale one dav, he pur hasrd a large safe, had it fitted into com part merits, and assessed the cost ntnong his patrons. Shortly afterward the first safe deposit company was opened on lower Broadway, on© of the promoter* liaving watched the working of the *yi tern described. Several "attempts have bees mad© to introduce the system in London, but have been unsuccessful e\- •epting as concerns the “city.”—A«# JVnfc Times, DOLLARS BY THE TON. j COUNTING THE CASH IN A TnfIT3D STATES SUB-TREASURY. What It Monti* to Count n Million Hetefl Miles of Silver and Gold ftixpedltimiN Work. A recent IsSde of the Chicago II > faVs : Thft'E t«y quiet toting nu n .*■ | forking four days tinsw v cek counting l money in the United States Sub-Trcasu | in the Custom House. It was the occa*i< j of the annual revision of Sub-Treasur*. John J. Ilcaly's accounts, and the quic I young men were experts sent here by flu | Government. There were about five I million dollars to l»e accounted for. and 1 they were, to a penny. Has anybody | ever given the magnitude of a million an caracst thought i Written out in figures, j with the dollar mark in front of it— j $1,000.000 —the amount does not look so I very big. But, suppose that amount i? I In silver dollars. It would take the most I cxjiert teller tOA horns to count it. and j then he would teqtilre the assistance ol | two helpers to carry the coin to and fro. ! There are about, three million dollars in i silver in the Bhlb-Tfeasufy, and to osccr- J tairi thfc exact atiiofiftt by actual count » would take nri expert Ovef forty days of j ten hours' work Cach, This length »*t j time would be required were all the coil j in dollars, but as a! considerable port i*> nfitisin fractional silver, the timeactualh ; required would Ik* about sixty days. Counting SI,OOO— “bag and tag.** a the tcchniqd expression goes—is done 1 * an expert teller in eight minutes by scrap ing $2 at a time into bis band until h has made a stack of S2O. In case of ball dollars, which, like quarters, are stackc*. in $lO piles, the. operation consume eighteen minutes for SI,OOO. To theuu initiated the counting is a bewildering proceeding. Two men sit bent'ovrr ;> smooth oak table, and a bag of SI,OOO i emptied between them by one of th helpers. Their hands rush into the pile, forming it into narrow silver or golden hands, as the case may be, from the cen tre toward its teller, anfl, two at. a time, the pieces are raked into the hand. The precious chink, chink, chink is so over whclmingly beautiful as to make anordi nary mortal speechless with suspense. There is not a word spoken besides the whispered directions of the supervisors to the helpers. But. then actual count, of silver is made only when the balance scales on which each bag is weighed in dicate a variance in the weight of fifty nine pound • for 1,000 silver dollars, and fifty-five pounds for SI,OOO in fractional silver. The silver and gold in the Chicago Sub-Treasury, piled up piece by piece, would make a roll of 118,044 feet, or more than seven miles in length. The paper money and other securities, were they all of the denomination of $5, would only make a pyramid of 53 inches, or 4 5-12' feet in height. Still, as there would be $1,055,452 in such pyramid, one might be satisfied with tho smaller pile. Inas much as there are stacks of SIO,OOO. $5,000. SI,OOO and SSOO bills, not to speak of the larger-sized certificates, §nc could carry these millions of paper money away in a trunk of ordinary size, while the silver and gold would take up the carrying capacity of twelve railroad freight cars bearing ten ton? each. The coin, as it is received ia the Sub- Treasury, is placed in bags containing SI,OOO. and coin received in the routine of business is similarly packed. The tellers count one bag in which new and worn coins are mixed in a ratio corre sponding with the occurrence of such coin in practical business life. The weight will be about fifty nine pounds, a little more ora !ittie less.. This hag, with the money counted, is placed on one side of •the balance scales and the other bags are placed against it one by one. The con tents of any bag not coming up to th*’ standard have to be counted. In almost every instance it turns out that the lighter weight is caused by wear and tear. The Impcr money, of course,has to be counted, t is done at a big table all covered with money. Here the currency is first assort ed, the denominations being chiefly from $1 to SIOO. Bills for larger amounts are rare. SIO,OOO being the highest denomina tion of any of Uncle Sam’s evidences of indebtedness. The bills must be assorted and piled together according to their class. Ones and twos may go together, fives, tens ami twenties, and fifties and hundreds. National bank notes, green backs and gold and silver certificates must 1m? kept separate. There are so many kinds of denominations of money that the teller, in assorting it, cover* the whole table. Inasmuch os the financial policy of the Gorvcrmnent is to withdraw $1 and $2 bills from circulation, the $5 bill is the most .frequent, and forms the bulk of the tellers' work. There are alwayc 100 bills in one package, no matter what the de nomination may lie, and 400 new, crisp bills, piled on top of each other, will make a snug little package of one inch in height. Thus, in slo,oooin bills a man could easily earn' $40,000 in n pock ©tbook of the requisite dimensions for bank notes. Forty packages of 100 bills are form***l into a bundle and Htrnj>|H*d and sealed for transportation.* New bank notes, direct from tne Treasury Depart ment, are not only consecutively num bered but automatically counted by the same machine that numbers them. Still, the accountants who handle these delight ful sliiis of paper arc bound to count them nv hand, and as they finger the crisp leaves they ascertain by the touch of ine paper whether a counterfeit ha* sneaked in. The hank notes an* all of the same size, no matter whether Undo Sam premises to pay $5 or SIO,OOO for the ornamental piece of jwper. — 1 ■ • • • —— • Gold in small quantities ha* been found at San Diego. It is suspected that the wife of an editor haft gone through her hustmnd's trousers' lleckcts. —lforridotm Herald. Terms. $1.50 per Annum. Single Copy 5 cents. OLD-FASHIONED ROSES. They ain’t, no style about ’em, And they’re sorter pale and faded; Yifc the doorway here without ’em « Would bo lonesomer, and shaded With a good ’eal blacker shadder Than the momin’ glories makes, And the sunshine would look sadder. For their good, old-fashioned sokes. I like ’em 'cause they kind o’ Sorter makes a feller like ’em; And I tell you when you find a Bunch out whur the sun cad strike ’em It allns sets me thinkin’ O’ the one© at used to grow, And peek in through the chinkin’ O’ the cabin, don’t you know. And then I think o’ mother, And how Rho used to 10/e ’em, "When they wasn’t any other, 'Less they found Vm up above 'em! And her eyes, afore she shut ’em, Whispered with a smile, and said, We must pluqk a bunch and put ’em Ih her hand when she woe dead. But, as I wuz a sayin*. They ain't no style about ’em Very gaudy or displayin’, But I wouldn't be without ’em, ’Cause I'm happier in these poses And the hollyhawks and sich Than tho hummin’ bird ’at nosss In the roses of the rich. —Jamen Whitcomb Riley} — - HUMOR OF THE DAY. The Prince of Wail*—The tom cat. An important question—ls her father w cal til y?— fid- Hi t*. The crematory is the hum from which no traveler returns. — Pittsburgh Diep&tch. ‘ The fishery question—Did you bring the. flask with you, Jack?— Boston Cou rier. How to keep the hoys at home—induce some of the neighbor's girls to nin in often. “Beware of a man of one book,” espe cially if it is a subscription book. Boston Bulletin. That this world is not halanr**d right Is plainly to b*» s**«»n, When ono’man walks to make him fat. And another to make him lean. —Daneville Breeze A correspondent wants to know the meaning of “Pro Bono Publico.” In a majority of rases it means that the writer who thus signs his newspaper communi cation ia a chronic growler.— Norristown Herald. “Johnny,” said a mother to her son. nine years old, “go and wash your face; lam ashamed of seeing you come to dinner with such a dirty mouth.” “I did wash it, mamma,” and feeling his upper lip, said gravely: “I think it must be a mustache coming.— Siftings. That Cupid in blindness must, follow hi» works, Is a blessing, and not a disaster. Since it keeps the men from seeing th© pim ple that lurks Neath the maiden's small patch of court plaster. -Merchant-Traveler ‘ ’ What a mobile countenance Mis* L. has,” said a gentleman to a young lady at a social gathering the other evening. “Y’cs,” replied the young woman with an effort to smile, for Miss L. was her hated rival, “she has a very 3lobile countenance and New Orleans molasses colored hair.” And she elevated her little tmg nose a* high as she could, and founa an attrac tion at the other side of the room.—ll mira Gazette. WISE* WORDS. Conscience is the voice of the soul; the passions arc the voice of the body. The first and last thing which is re quired of genius is the love of truth. Hidden virtue is often despised, inas much as nothing extols it in our eyes. The reproaches of enemies should quicken us to duty, and not keep us from duty. Pleasure must first have the warrant that it is without sin; then, the measure, that it is without excess. Unnatural deeds do breed unnatural troubles. Infected minds to their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets. Life is before you—not earthly life alone, but life, a thread running inter minably through the warp of eternity. Every beautiful, pure and good thought which the heart entertains is an angel of mercy, purifying and guarding the soul. Let a man learn that everything in na ture, even motes and feathers, go by law and not by “luck,” and that what he sows he reajw. Oh, how small a portion of earth will hold us when we arc dead, who am bitiously seek after the whole world while wc are living! As the medical probities of some plants can be adduced only by distills tion, so our good qualities can only be proved by trials. Great efforts from great motiv**s is the bent definition of a happy life. The easiest labor is a burden to him who has no motive for performing it. — - ■ A Good Sleeper. A 12-yenr-old school boy, who bad so Ik* called a dozen times in the morning before he came down to breakfast, was reuse* 1 from his mat in slumbers the other day by a loud clap of thunder, the electric l>o!t knocking a big hole in tho roof of the house, going through the ceiling, splitting o|M*n the headboard of the bed, singeing hi* hair, and passing through the. floor and out at the kitchen door. The hid partly opened his eyes, faintly murmured: “Yes, I’m coming,” and im- I mediately turned over for a freah snooze. ' —Norristown Herald. I In !.ondoii there are 201 shorthand rc port era for leading ncwqvtpcrs.