SULLIVAN JHBI REPUBLICAN.
W. M. CHENEY. Publisher.
VOL. XIII.
There are fewer deaths by railway
accidents in Fersia than in any other
country.
Tho French have invented an occult
science of arithmetic which they call
"arithmomancy."
If tho United States had as great a
relative population as Japan it would
have a population of 960,000,000 peo
ple.
Scientists say now that beauty is
more than skin deep. Half of tho
charm of a pretty face, they claim, is
imparted by the little muscles of tho
ekin.
Whon civilization roaches a higher
standard than has yot been attained,
the New York Advertiser is convinced
that there will bo a law making it »
penal offonso to fry instead of broil a
chop.
Tho number of American horses iu
Italy, England, France, Germany and
Russia is already quite large, is rapid
ly increasing, and tho result of cross
ing them with the native stock has al
ready proved far moro satisfactory
than almost any ono anticipated.
From a tabular statement published
in tho Japan Gazetto it appears that
Japau has altogether 39,601 doctors,
of whom only 10,553 are qualified oi l
modern prinoiples; tho rest, over two
thirds of the total, being old stagers
of tho purely native school, tho cham
pions of frogs' toenails and burnt joss
paper.
There aro 20,000 woman cycle riders
in New York and New England alono.
If possible, tho latter staid and con
servative locality is moro wheel mad
than New York, maintains tho Dis
patch. Tho enthusiasm has spread to
the tiniest towns, and a littlo moun
tain hamlet of 300 or 500 souls will
have its quota of wheel women.
It is said that horses are cheaper in
Idaho, just now, than anywhere elso in
tho world. Ordinary unbroken, ranch
bred horses havo beeu sold at auction,
in Boise City, during the last sumuer
at seventy-fivo cents a head, and
horses broken to harness and the
saddle as low as $2.50, although, as a
farmer remarkod, "if you want a good
team they aro surprisingly scarce."
To reach tho north po'e, an archi
tect, M. Hauin, has proposed to the
Geographical Society of Paris the
constrtction of wooden huts ono or
two days' journey apart. He considers
Greenland the most favorable locality
for an experiment of this kind. Each
of the huts would becomo in its turn
a base of supplies for the construction
of tho next. As tho distance to bo
covered is about 900 milos, a scoro of
huts would be necessary to establish a
route to the polo.
Tho socred cattle of India take moro
readily to American ways than do tho
people of that land, according to tho
caretakers of tho National quarantine
for cattle at Garfield, N. J., whoro
there is a small heril of the animals,
imported for Oliver 11. P. Belmont.
Said one of these men: "Mr. Bel
mont sent over for tho cattlo some of
the nativo feed. It is a grain or berry
which when ground up resembles
ground chicory. Tho cattlo ate it all
right, but after a few diys hero they
becamo sickly. The superintendent
gave them some Yankee feed, on
which they immediately began to
thrive, and now they won't touch tho
feed sent over with thom."
Among the reasons for tho almost
ninterrupted success of Japan in
prosecuting tho present war with
China is tho spirit of sacrifice and
generosity exhibited by her people.
Voluntary contributions amounting
to almost $15,000,000 havo boen re
ceived by the Government. Tho
Bauk of the Nobility, which has given
$1,000,000 outright, has also placed
$15,000,000, interest free, at the dis
posal of the authorities. The noble
men and wealthy merchants have been
most patriotic, and a number of thom
have contributed more than 8100,000
each. Victory under such conditions
is comparatively easy and certain.
Public spirit in China with rofereuco
to the unfortunate conflict presents A
melancholy contrast. Unhappily for
the Chinese, the same spirit of indif
forence—to use no stronger word
seems to pervade a great part of the
army and uavy. Admiral Ting him
self had to report that seven of his
ships remained concealed during tho
fight on the Yaloo ; that several ofll
cers had to bo court-martialled for
cowardice, and that it was deemed es
sential to behead Captain Fong, who
fled before the beginning of the Lit
tle. It appears to bo a hopeless task
for tho Chinese to fight the demorali
zation in their forces.
A SONO OF THAIIKSOIVINO.
Thanksgiving. Thnnxsglvinft! Of yore,
In tho youth of tho Natiou,
When the harvest hail yielded Its store
There was feast and oblation.
Or wlion danger had lifted Its hand,
From tho Hps of tho living
There rang through tho length of the land
A Thanksgiving! Thanksgiving I
Our home wns u wildornoss then
With tho floods to enfold It,
To- lay with its millions of men,
We rejoice to behold it.
From the sea to surge of tho sen,
Wo hnvo all for a trensuro
Wo are tlcst iu tho promised To-bo
In a manifold moasure.
\7iir flaunts not a rod pennon now,
For the olivo is regal,
Like birds that are twin, on ono bough
Sit tho dove and tho eagle.
Tho clash of tho conflict that oloft
Wo iu sorrow remember,
But the llro of tho great fuel has left
In tho ash searco an omber.
For tho fruit of tho time of our toll
For whatu'er we have fought for
W.iether born oitho brain or the soil
Be the meed we have sought for
For the j;ilts we have had from Ills hand
Who is Linl of all living,
Let thero ring through tho lon.erth of tho
Inn I
A Thanksgiving! Thanksgiving
—Clinton Scollnrd.
BRAND'S THANKSGIVING.
TSY W. BEIiT FOSTER
ELL, as long as
& \VM yon won't go with
112? ns » * s 'poso you'll
B look after things,"
V> iy&s/ J& said Farmerßrand
halting beside tho
w/j, woodpile where
VAA his eldest son was
T^snirp? jffip at work.
Farmer Brand
was a man of sixty
and much broken
in health, as bis stooping shoulders
and attenuated frame showed. John
Brand was a young giant of twenty
eight, handsome, with a certain sav
age lciud of beauty, for his straight
black hair, heavy brows and piercing
ryes made him look more like an
Indian than a white man. There was
u savage scowl on his face this morn
ing, too, as he swung his axe, sending
its keen blade deep into the wood at
everv blow.
"1 wish ye would go with us. John,"
hiiill his father, after hesitating a mo
ment, gently laying his hand on hie
sou's shoulder. "Brother Eben will
lie right glad to see ye, an' yo know
we never get over there 'cepting at
Thanksgiving."
"1 hate holidays," growled John,
throwing off his father's hand roughly
and continuing his attack on the
wood.
Mr. Brand walked slowly away and
climbed into the two-seated
wagon beside his wife and little Billy.
His appearance contrasted greatly
with that of his wife. She was not
more than thirty-five and was plump
and good looking. The little boy,
nearly live years old, sat between
them.
"Here are the reins, father, she
said, and smiled up at him, brightly.
She knew that he was greatly disap
pointed by John's refusal, although
she was rather glad herself to get
away for one day from the surly
fellow.
The back seat of the wagon was
piled with extra wraps and hampers
of pies and cakes to "piece out" at
the dinner, should brother Eben's
folks be short; but there was plenty
of room for John if he would go. The
farmer turned and looked at him, but
the axe was going faster and harder
than ever, every blow saying as
plainly as could be: "I hate holi
days!" Little Billy was impatient to
start so Mr. Brand reluctantly
"clucked" to the old horse and they
rattled out of the yard.
It was a crisp November morning,
the ground frozen as hard as a rock
and a brittle covering of ice over all
the puddles and in muddy ruts. The
trees on the mountain-side back of
the house were bare of leaves and
their branches sighed and shivered in
the wind. John Brand threw down
his axe and gazed after the retreating
wagon with lowering brow.
Ten years beforo hie mother had
(lied, lie had loved his mother —al-
most worshiped her, in truth—and
her death had made him feel very
bitter against tho fate which had
taken her away. His father had never
had any great share of his fierce
young heart—he was so much dif
ferent from liis mother. But they al
ways got along well together, and for
the next four years, instead of strik
ing out for himself, as he had in
tended, John put his best exertions
into the work of running the great
farm.
There were two hnndred acres of it,
woodland and meadow, hill and plain.
It would all be his some day, so there
was no use in John's going off for him
self, bo his father said, and John was
accounted a fortunate fellow indeed
by the neighbors.
But a change began to come over
his father. John was slow to suspect
the cause, although the neighbors, as
neighbors will, saw and understood it
from the first. John had been so
wrapped up in his mother that never
for an instant' did he think that his
father might see somo other -woman
whom he might wish to make his wife.
It therefore came like a thunder-olap
when the farmer told him that h«o was
about to marry a neighboring farmer's
daughter, a young womau not much
more than half his age.
John did not oppose (Le union by
words. His father's determination
LAPORTE, PA., FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 1894.
seemed, in fact, to have made him
dumb. He only looked bis scorn,
anger and contempt, and from tbat
day was a changed being.
His sociability and wit had enliv
ened almost every gathering of yonng
people in the region since his arrival
at manhood. These gatherings knew
him no more. He refused every invi
tation, retired within himself and
brooded ovor the wrong which he
fancied had beon done his mother's
memory and himself.
He would not even attend his fath
er's wedding and when Mr. Brand
brought his bride home all traces of
his former wife—those little things
which had becomo as familiar to him
as the old house itself—bad disap
peared. Her picture which had been
taken in her bridal dress and had hung
over the high mantel in the parlor,
her work table, the "cricket," on
which her feet had rested during the
long evenings when she sat and sewed
or mended—all were gone and nothing
but a heap of ashes and charred wood
in the great open fireplace was left.
Mr. Brand had never taken John to
task for this. He felt somehow as
though he had no right to complain.
The things had been more John's than
his, for John was the one who had re
mained entirely faithful to the dead.
At first this new wife tried her best
to gain John's favor ; but tho young
man repelled all her advances and
never spoke to her unless he was ab
solutely obliged. In fact, he spoke to
no ono unless forced to. He even
carried his clothing to an old lady in
the neighborhood to be mended,
rather than have Mrs. Brand touch his
garments.
JUST BEFORE THANKSGIVING.
Tlio young wife did all sho could to
win his love, but to no avail, and be
fore a year of lier married life had
passed she had something else to think
of. A little baby came to the Brand
house that John foresaw would event
ually fill his place and possess his
rights. John had passively endured
the coming of tho wife ; he hated the
baby with an almost murderous
hatred.
He hoped that it would die, but
little Billy grew up a strong, healthy
boy, nevor having seen an ill day in
his short life. He was the child of
Farmer Brand's old ago and before he
was two years old completely owned
the entire house and its contents—
except John Brand. No amount of
coaxing baby ways won his heart.
John simply hated him the more for
being so pretty and sweet-tempered.
He would not even touch the child.
All tho bitterness ho had cherished
for these six long years filled his heart
ou this Thanksgiving morning as he
stood gazing after the departing
wagon. Thero had been nothing to
keep him at homo from the Thanks
giving merrymaking except his own
ugly feelings, for the farm work was
all finished and everything made ship
shape for winter. There was wood
enough cut already to last an ordin
ary lifetime, but there was a certain
fierce pleasure for him in forcing the
axe into the knotty sticks.
He worked moodily on till noon,
then fed the stook, and after locking
the house went down to the village
tavern and eat his dinner there.
It was almost dark whon he returned
to tho farmhouse. He did the chores
and went to bed before the others ar
rived —little Billy wild with delight
over the festivities of tho day, Mrs.
Brand smiling and happy, and her
husband with a sore spot in his old
heart for his eldest son.
Winter came quickly after that
Thanksgiving. The snow wrapped
everything in its fleecy covering,
drifted over fences and across the pub
lio roads, became crusted hard and
snowed again, repeating the perform
ance until it lay three or four feet
deep all over the country side. Farmer
Brand shelled corn or smoothod axe
helves and hoo handles iu the kitchen
corner; John chopped wood all day
long as though he had taken a con
tract to supply the whole village with
kindling; little Billy, with Guard, the
Scotch collie, played in the snow and
came in rosy-cheeked and panting
after his frolio with never a suspicion
of "croup"—that bane of children
who are brought up like hot house
plants.
Sometimes Billy stopped near the
scene of John's labors and watched the
ohips fly from the sticks with delight.
They seemed to fly all the faster the
longer he watohed them; but John
paid no attention to his childish prattle
and his dark, scowling face soon drove
him away.
It was qnite a fortnight after
Thanksgiving Day. The weather had
been threatening for several days and
the wiseaores declared a heavy storm
brewing. John loaded up the wood
team during the forenoon with stove
wood for tho old lady who did his
mending and washing. This was how
he partly paid her for the work. As
he climbed aboard and gathered up
the reins Billy came round the corner
of the hous*.
"Can I goto ride with yon, please?"
ho asked, doubtfully. " I want togo
to Mrs. Peckham's."
"Not on top of this load. You
weigh so much that the horse couldn't
draw it," growled John sarcastically.
But Billy took the reply in porfect
good faith.
"Can I ride back when the team's
empty? " he asked.
John growled eomcthing which
might have meant yes, or nothing,
and drove out of the yard. Billy
started bravely in the rear, although
it was quite two miles to Mrs. Peck
ham's. It was terribly cold and John
turned up tho collar of his rough coat
and chirruped to the horses. The
wheels creaked most musically over
the hard snow and tho little figure
trudged sturdily along in tho rear.
Billy's short legs could not keep pace
with tho strides of tho farmhorsos and
he gradually fell behind. John looked
back at him with a scowl and started
tho horses into a brisk trot. Bofore
many minutes a turn in tho road hid
the littlo fellow from sight.
"Littlo fool I he'll soon get sick of
it," muttered John and thought no
more about tho child.
At noon when ho arrived home Billy
was not about. Ho had not seen him
on the way and decided that the little
fellow had become discouraged and
gone back again. But he was not
about the house, as he soon discov
ered.
"Havo you seen Billy?" asked his
step-mother, as John came into din
ner.
Ho growled out a negative and sat
down to the table. His father was al
ready out hunting foi the boy and
after putting the food on tho table
Mrs. Brand threw a s.mwl over her
head and went outside, too. It was
bitter cold and the first snow flakes of
the coming storm wore in the air.
John eat his dinner moodily and ap
parently undisturbed.
" 'Riah says she thought he followed
yon when you went to old Mis' Peck
ham's, John," said his father, coming
in after an unsuccessful search of the
premises. "Didn't you see him?"
"No, I haven't seen tho brat!" re
sponded his son, surlily.
Mrs. Brand began to cry and the
old man's weather-beaten face worked
pitifully as he said in a broken voice:
"Don't take on so, 'Riah. I'll gat
the neighbors roused and we'll find
him, so don't you worry,"
He hurried out on this mission and
John soon followed him, nnablo to
stand the aocusing looks of his stop
mother.
A half-dozen neighbors responded
to the call for searchers and started
out in different directions, expecting
to find the child somewhere near the
house. He certainly couldn't have
gone far in the snow. John attacked
the woodpile more fieroely than ever,
feeling as though every blow of his
axe was cutting the threads which
bound little Billy to this life. The
child could not live many hours wan
dering about in this weathor, and he,
John Brand, would be his murderer ?
Suddenly he threw down his axe,
unable to endure this Belf-torture
longer. He unchained Guard, and
with hasty strides started off down
the road. His keen eyes examined
every foot of the white drifts on either
side of the beaten way. Somewhere
little Billy must have turned out of
the wagon-traok.
Not far below the honse the wood
land began. Half a mile through this
and he came to the place he had been
looking for. There were the child's
footprints where he had turned aaide
into the woods, He followed them
rapidly. Guard sniffing excitedly at
the prints of tho little rubber boots.
A few yards back from the road was
the log on which little Billy had
seated himself to rest. When he arose
from that he turned deeper into the
woods instead of toward the road.
John and the dog pressed on before
the blast. The snow was coming
faster now, and the footprints might
soon be obliterated.
He shouted occasionally as he went
on, but no answer reached him. The
child had traveled an astonishing dis
tance, and almost directly away from
home. Before long John reached
higher ground and found that the
boy had climbed the mountain side.
Finally Guard bonnded away with a
short, sharp bark, and hurrying on
John found him licking the cold face
of his little master where he lay curled
at tho foot of a grent gnarled oak.
There was a strange feeling at John
Brand's heart as he picked the boy np
and strode down the hillside in the
taetli of the blast.
The wind had risen to a gale and
howled and shrieked through the
woods in a perfect frenzy. Even
Guard cowered before its strength.
Tho keen wind cut John's bare hands
and face like a knife, but he pressed
on determinedly, sheltering the child's
body as much as possible from the
cold.
He was cold himself. John Brand
could never remember being so
cold in his life before ; but somehow
tho unconscious body of the little
child close against his breast was warm
ing his cold heart and melting all his
hard and bitter feelings.
Giant though ho was in strength anil
enduranco he hail to fight for each
step of the way. It was only by the
aiil anil direction of a higher power
than his own that he at last reached
tlio farmhouse and was helped inside
by the anxious men who had been
driven back from the search some time
before by the gale.
Ho had a very dim recollection a
to how he got there, but soiuo time
later ho found himself lying on the old
settle in the chimney corner with his
father holding a bowl of some hot de
cootion to his lips. He pushed it away
and looked across the hearth to where
his stepmother, tearful and smiling,
was holding little Billy in hor arms.
"Is ho all right?" asked John husk
ily.
"Yes. thanks to tho Almighty and
to you, my son, 1 ' replied his father
reverently, and John smiled.
It was late, indeed, but this was
John Brand's Thanksgiving.
Giving Thanks lor Turkey.
We're thankful for the things we eat,
Tho oysters with tho turkey meat.
Tho health wo have, the sweet contont
With blessings which to us are sent
The golden, glorious pumpkin pies,
Tho hope of heaven beyond tho skies
Tho sweet potatoes, piping hot.
Tho clustered blue forgetmonor ,
The celery crisp nnd col I and white,
The chickon gravy, seasoned right;
Tho royal pones of sweet corn bread,
Tho righteous sleep of all our dead ;
The yellow beet, tho parsnip brown,
Tho cross that must precede the crown .
Tho buttor served in pots of gold.
On pancakes ot heroic mold ;
Tho wide expanse of all things good,
Nowlso loss toothsome,though they're rude.
And last of all. our dinner clone,
We hasten to give thanks as one
Who feels that thanks are more than duo
For medioiuo to pull him through.
—W. J. Lumpson.
—■ -
Thankful.
"I don't see what makes people go
to football games on Thanksgiving
Day," remarked his wife. "It hasn't
anything to do with the spirit of the
occasion."
IK "Oh, yes.it has," was the reply ; "I
nevor went to a football game in my
life that I didn't fed tremendonsly
thankful that I wasn't ono of the
players."
Practically Considered.
"What's the good of Thanksgivin'
Day, anyhow!" exclaimed Plodding
Pete ill a discontented tone.
"What's the good of it?" echoed
Meandering Mike in dismay. "Honest,
Pete, some times you talk like a reg'-
lar heathen. Don't you know thet
Thauksgivin's one of the biggest free
lunch days in the whole year?"
Terms—sl.oo in Advance; t1.25 after Three Months.
DAY OF FEASTING.
SOME GOOD THINGS FOR THE
THANKSGIVING DINNER.
Approved Recipes for the Great
American Feast Day Boast
Turkey and Stuffing
Pumpkin Pie.
THANKSGIVING IS A PURELY
American feast day. It is a
day dedicated not only to the
giving of thanks, but to
dining, and rightly enough, for there
is nothing which will inspire one to a
feeling of thorough content and good
fellowship with the world more than
a good dinner.
The New York Herald gives its read
era some excellent suggestions for
dinner, with many proved recipes lor
the preparation of the different dishes.
Oyster Soup—To mako a delicious
soup out of these succulent bivalves
observe the following directions:
Havo two nice agate or porcelain lined
saucepans, one for milk and the other
for the juice of the oysters. As this
is a dinner for eight people, you must
have good-sized saucepans. Putin
one three pints of milk, with a heap
ing tablespoonful of butter, a level
teaspoonful of salt and two blades of
mace. Stand over a slow lire. In the
other saucepan put the liquor from
two quarts of oysters, leaving the oys
ters in the colander through which
the liquor has been drained until
ready for use. Stand this over the hot
part of the range, and as soon as the
scum rises skim every fleck of it off
with a silver or agate spoon—iron or
other metal should not bo used in
cooking. After skimming stand the
stewpan back where it does not boil;
as soon as the milk begins to boil pour
the oyster liquor into it, stirring gon
tly to prevent curdling. Have ready
two heaping tablespoonfuls of flour
well mixed with cold milk; thicken
the soup with this, stirring fast to
break the lumps. If it is a bit lumpy
strain through a fine colander into the
empty stewpan. Put back in the
range, and when it begins to boil drop
the oysters in and let them cook until
the edges curl. Put some fine chopped
parsley and a pinch of powdered
iloves in the bottom of the tureen.
Pour the soup in, sprinkle in a littlo
black pepper, and it is ready to serve.
To Eoast a Turkey—A turkey shonld
be stuffed, trussed and prepared for
roasting the night before Thanksgiv
ing, and, lnying it on platter, put it
in a cold, dry place till you are ready
to put it in tlio oven. Then get out
your big, deep dripping pan and place
the turkey in it, laying it on its side.
If the turkey is fat put no water in the
pnn, as it will baste itself; if uot fat,
put a little water in the bottom of the
pan. A twelve pound turkey requires
three hours' good roasting. A turkoy
that is not well done is a miserable
thing and this is a Thanksgiving feast
and everything must be perfect. Keep
a tea kettle of boiling water on the
| range and once in a while as the
turkey is roasting dash soijie water
from the kettle over it; and do not
fail to baste often.
Chestnut and Oyster Stuffing—Chest
nut stulling is delicious, hut is more
expensive than the bread crumbs and
requires a good deal of care and pains
to prepare properly. For agood eized
turkey tike three quarts of the large
chestnuts, or French marrons, as they
are called ; peel them and cook them
in a steamer until tender enough to
stick a fork through ; then put them
in a bowl and mash them as you would
potatoes. Season well with butter,
salt and pepper, a bit of onion and
chopped parsley; soften with cream
and stuff the turkey. Oysters added
to the bread crumb stuffing makes an
oyster stuffing.
Chicken Pie—Cut a large, tender
chicken in smaller piecus than for
fricas.ieeingi putin a stew pan with
half an onion, season with salt, cover
with water and let it cook till tender;
line a deep bakiug dish with a biscuit
crust, putin the pieces of chicken,
add some pieces of butter and sprinkle
with pepper ; thicken the gravy in the
stew pan, having enough to cover the
chicken in pie; cover with a biscuit
crust; bake in a quick oven till crust
is a delicate brown. This pie may be
served hot or cold, but is better hot,
and is delicious.
How to Make the Stuffing—Put in a
chopping bowl half of an onion, a
sprig of parsley and a good sized stalk
of celery; chop these all very line,
then take a loaf of stale bread which
has had the crust removed nnd been
soaked in cold water until soft; put it
in with the chopped herbs; flavor well
with sweet majoram, salt and pepper,
and after mixing all well together put
it in the turkoy. Sew up the aperture,
and just before placing in the ovon
salt and pepper the turkey well out
side.
Pumpkin Pie—To a quart of squash,
which has been boiled and mashed
through a colander, add the yolks of
four eggs, a tablespoonful of mel ed
butter, u little salt; sweeten with half
molasses and half sugar; season well
with powdered cinnamon, giuger,
mace and allspice; add the milk the
Inst thing, making it the consistency
of a thick batter; pour it in the pie
pan, already lined with paste, and
l)Rke till a nice, rich brown; do not
bako till watery, this spoils the pie.
Oyster Pie—Line a deep porcelain
dish with a rich paste; putin two
quarts of oysters well seasoned with
salt and pepper, a little powdered
mace, a few little pats of butter and
some chopped parsley ; stir in a cup
of lino cracker crumbs put on a top
crust and bake in a quick oven.
Celery Salad—Cut the celery in
small dice and when ready to serve
pour over it rich mayonnaise dress
ing; vinegar and salt may be added to
taste when eating.
NO. 7.
THE MERRY RAIN.
Sprinkle, sprinkle, comes the rain
Tapping on the window-pane,
Trickling, coursing,
Crowding, forcing,
Tiny rills
To the dripping window-sills.
Laughing raindrops, light and swift,
Through the air they fall and sift
Dancing, tripping,
Bounding, skipping
Through the street, ,
With their thousand merry feet.
Every blade of grass around
Is the ladder to the ground,
Clinging, striding,
Slipping, sliding,
On they come
With their busy, pattering hum.
In the woods, by twfg nnd spray,
To the roots they find tholr way,
Hushing, creeping,
Doubling, leaping,
Down they go
To the waiting life below.
O, the brisk and m ry rain.
Bringing gladness in Its train 1
Falling, glancing,
Tinkling, dancing,
All around—
Listen to Its cheery sound!
—Rhymes for You and Me.
IIUMOR OF TIIE DAY.
Lives of great men remind us of
'ittle episodes in our own.—Puck.
Every oloud has a silver lining, bnt
many of them fail to turn over.—
Peck's Sun.
The Chinaman loves solitude. Even
the soldiers seek their retreats.—
Dloveland Plain-Dealer.
She—"lt takes two to make a bargain,
you know." He—"Yes; but only one
gets it."—Boston Courier.
If the bass drum could think, it
would probably wonder why it has to
to keep still so much.—Barn's Horn.
To lose a chance for a free advertise
ment is tho Kansas man's idea of fu
ture punishment.—Kansas City Star.
My shelf holds books of many an •age,
And many are books of price and famo,
And writ on many a tltlo-puge
Is many a different owner's name.
—Judge.
Marriage is the hereafter of court
ship, and people never know what it
will be till they get there.—Detroit
Free Press.
We never see a citron without
thinking it should be arrested for try
ing to look like a watermelon.—
Atchison Globe.
It is said that a photograph can bo
taken 500 feet under water. We havo
seen several that ought to be taken
there. —Chicago Dispatch.
I've studied women sweet for years
And got to know them so!
For now just what they'll do (the dears!)
I know that I don't know.
—Judge.
Paßtor—"You ought to be ashamed
of yourself. Even animals know when
to stop drinking." Toper—"So do I
when I drink what they do."—Flie
gende Blaetter.
One of the greatest sorrows of age
is that, with increasing years and ex
perience, a man loses that blase feel
ing which was such a pride and com
fort to his youth. —Puck.
Kashem—"Why don't you put a
check to that fellow who is ever
lastingly dunning you?" Bilker—
"What'd be tho use? The bank
wouldn't pay it."—Buffalo Courier.
"Hello!" said the chestnut to the
robin, "What are you?" "I'm a little
bird," said the robin. "What are
you?" "I'm a little burred, too,"
said the chestnut.—Tammany Times.
Stuffcr—"You know that girl who
refused me? She has just insulted
me by inviting mo to dinner." Dash
away—"What are you going to do?"
Stuffer—"Swallow tho insult."—Now
York Sun.
An absent-minded Southwark woman
wont to tho bank tho other day to
have cashed a chequo her husband
sent her. She indorsed it thus —
"Your loving wife, Mary Miller."—
Philadelphia Becord.
A man who would be indignant at
being called a grumbler will accept
without disfavor tho same of pessi
mist. Nevertheless, most pessimists
are, after all, only chronio grum
blers.—Christian Inquirer.
"So you let the prisoner off on his
word for a couple of days, did you?"
asked tho captain. "I did," answered
the lieutenant. "And do you think
he will come baok on it or go back on
it?"—lndianapolis Journal.
"Why didn't yon give the alarm
when you awakened and saw the burg
lars in the room?" Mr. Nupah— "l
saw they were ontertainiug the baby,
and what was a paltry S4OO compared
with that?"—Chioago Inter-Ocean.
"Parker uses a great deal of co
logne, it seems to me. Awful bad
form ["''S'.tid Hawkius. "It would be
in you," said Hicks, "but it's family
pride with Hawkins. He comes of
old colognial stock."—Harper's Bazar.
Mrs. Flatter—"George, dear, the
cook is goiug to-inorrow." George—
"Why, what is the matter with her?
I thought she liked the place." Mrs.
F.—"That is the trouble. Sho says
she is too contented with us."—Brook
lyn Life.
"Everything that is dono in this
honso is always blamed onto me,"
sniffed the small boy, "an' I'm jist
gittin' tired of it. I'll run away, that's
what I'll do. Dog-r I mean to
be tho Li Hung Chanft of this family,
any longer." —Cincinnati Tribune.
Stranger—"Would you kindly show
me the way to the cathedral?" In
telligent Native—"That is not difficult
to find. You just walk down that
street yonder, and at the farther end
yon will see a small provision shop on
your left. The cathedral is exactly
opposite. " —Fliearende Blaetter.