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The Newberry herald. (Newberry, S.C.) 1865-1884, April 03, 1884, Image 1

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A Family Companion, Devoted to Literature, Miscellany, News, Agriculture, Markets, &c.
Vol..XX. _ NEWBERRY, S. C., THURSDAY, APRIL 3, 1884. No. 14
THE HERALD
Is PU1BLISHED
ERY THURSDAY MORNING,
At Newberry, S. C.
BY TH09.- PAEEG
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ime for waica it iapajd.
7 The X mark denAKes epl::ation, of
subscription.
IN THCSTQCK,OF
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which we are elosing out at greatly
reduced prices.
iOCain
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Is not a triumph of science, but is a revelation
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PRE1*AEED Qm'.Y RY Tuz BOLE P1ir1aormEo
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*Corrsondence'seicitd.
Cetry.
SISTER GRACES.
A fricad and neighbor said to me:
"Of graces named, there are but
three
Faith, Hope, and blessed Charity."
"Three more-" I said, "there should
be, fiend;
Three more to bless us to the entl
May heaven to us this trio sentl.
"And if to listen you'll agree.
I'll tell their precious names to thee
Love, Patience, and sweet Courtesy."
Love should with Faith go hand in
hant1,
And Patience wait at IIope's command.
While Courtesy equiped should ; tand.
At Charity's wide open (loor,
And as'her ministrations pour
Upon the people, go before.
Yes; Courtesy should always lead
Prepare the rough soil for the seed,
And bear the cruse of oil in need.
When dwelling on fair Charity,
We think, my neighbor you'll agree
Too little of sweet Courtesy.
It is of life a better part
The way to warm a troubled.heart.
The precious balm to heal the smart.
[t will the sternest soul beguile ;
Where dwelt a frown 'twill plant a
smile,
[ts intluence speeding many a mile.
I'hen hail, all hail, our graces three
Send forth their praise o'er land and
sea
Love, Patience, and sweet Courtesy!
MARY'S LOVE ROMINCE.
-0
In the drawing-roomn at Heathcot,
n the gray September twilight,Mary
Ueredith and Felix Trafford sat en
raged in earnest conversation.
"I really cannot see any cause
.or your despair, dear Felix. Have
[ not told you how dearly I love
iou? No power on earth shall ever
,orce me to break my plighted troth
,o you. Have you no confidence in
me?"
"All confidence, Mary; I know
Vou will be true to me."
-Tnen what is it you fear?"
"Everything. You are young
ind beautiful, the rich Mr. Mere
lith's only child, while I am a poor
lerk 'in the house of Meredith
Brothers, with nothing but an un
sullied reputation. some brains and
a good right hand to help me
through the world."
"So much the better. then, that I
am the daughter of the rich Mr.
Meredith. Dear Felix, papa es
teems you,. and has implicit confi
:lee in your honor. iIe invites
you here, and allows our acquain
tance. Why do you annoy your
self about imaginary troubles?'
"Your father trusts me and I
must be true to him, yon and my.
self. I will go to him and frankly
::oDfess our attachment. I should
fedl miserable otherwise."
eGo nlow; he is in his study.'
Felix caught the girl in his arms
andl kissed her rosy lips.
"Your . confidense inspires me
ith hope," he said, and went away
an his mission. Tapping at Mr.
Mer2dith's study door, and receiv
ing parmission to enter, Felix ap
proached the old gentleman, who
gave him his hand, saying:
"Why, boy, you are~ an unexpect
ed visitor. No bad news I hope?"
"No sir; Lut I want to ask of you
a gift sa precious that I have very
little hope of obtaining It."
"Well, well, name it. I am al
ways glad to favor you if I can."
Felir-was- greatly agitated, but
spimmoned up all his courage and
said:
"Mr. Meredith, I love your
daughter. I do not, however, ask
you to give her to me now. Only
let me hope that when: I 'prove to
you-'
Mr. Meredith leaned back in his
chair amazed. It had never occur
ed to him that this young- clerk
would dare to lift his eyes to his
daughter.
"You are an ungrateful, treach
erous scroundrel!1" he cr~ed. "Out
of compassion for your friendless
ness I addmitted you to my house
and my daughter's society, and you,
villain that you are, have taken the
opportunity to steal into her confi
dence and win her inexperienced
heart. Begone, sir, and never let
me see your face again !"
"Listen to me one moment, Mr.
Meredith."
"Not one second!~' cried the old
man, as he violently brought down
his clenched fist upon the table.
"Leave the house instantly or the
servants shall thrust you out."
And as if to put his threat into ex
ecuten he fiercely rang the bell.
AS Felix straggered along the
passage, his heart so oppressed with
contending emotions that he was
macwaran.conIoan.n anytklag. he
met Mary, who, alarmed at the vio
lent ringing of the bell, was rush
ing to her fathers study. Felix
wildly threw his arms about her.
kissing her again and again. Then
he tore himself away and rushed
from the house.
Mary never knew what occurred
at that terrible interview. Mr.
Meredith was deaf to all her en
treaties and the lover had disappear.
ed. The poor girl was stricken
with brain fever, and for weeks her
life hung in the balance. Repen
tence camle to late too the unhappy
father. for although sought for far
and near Felix could not be found.
At length youth and a good consti
tution brought back health to the
heart-broken girl. But alas! the
blooming young Ilebe of seventeen
summers was no more. In her
place a tall. pale girl appeared, but
with a beauty that even the most
fastidious admired. The golden
brown curls that clustered around
her temples lay in rippling waves
upon a brow as pure as snow, and the
soft, lustrous hazel eyes wore an
expression of sadness., that told
of the heart grief that would be
hers forever.
Mr. Meredith traveled with his
daughter though all the most attrc
tive parts of Europe for a year.
Then at her request. he took her
home. Mary had become a woman,
a bright, intelligent.;glorious woman,
and crowds of admirers worshiped
at her feet; but the image of Felix
was still as fresh as ever in her
heart, and the vows she had ex
changed with him were never for
a momeist forgotten. Therefore,
all offers of marriage were at once
declined.
Time rolled on. Mary had now
reached her twenty-eighth year. and
still remained a maiden beneath the
paternal roof.
One cold winter evening Mary
sat by the glowing fire in her father's
drawing room. Her small white
hands were clasped upon her bosom.
and her eyes were cast downward
until the long lashes lay like golden
penciling . upun her cheek. Near
her, in the great arm chair, sat Mr.
Meredith, with the snow of many
winters on his head and his face
deeply furrowed by the hand of time.
There was an expression of care
upon his countenance. He looked
troubled and unhappy.
"Mary." said he, continuing a
conversation that had been goin
on between them' "all my life I
have made your happiness my con
stant study and have given you a
luxurious home. Now yon are ad
vancing in ycars and I shall ere
long be sep.!rated from you by
death. How can I leave you alone
in this cold world? A home is now
open to 3 ou t.nd you must accept
it. It is not because I owe this
ynqu- a very large sum that I insist
upon this marriage , although if you
refuse him we will be sunk into the
morst abject poverty, for I would
rather endure all the misery of the
situation than risk your well-being;
but 1 ki1w yao' 't 1 be happy with
Mr. Ambiose for a husband.
He is goodl and :zind as well as
very rich."
"Rich in what. father?''
The old man started at these
words but at length answered :
"In honor and manhood." Mary
said no more. *-The crisis -is now
upon me," continued Mr. Meredith.
"In a few s!.ort days I shall be
overwhelmed with misery if you
do not rescue me. Mr. Ambrose has
asked mec for your hand. iIe has
seen you many times and loves
you.
"And Mr. Ambrose makes my
hand the price of y-our safety?"
"No lie has not said so; but he
is aware of my situation, and, know
ing it, asks the hand of my child.
It seems to me as if God had kept
you free to save your old father
from ruin. WVhat answer am I to
return to Mr. A mbrose?"
"My heart was broken long ago,"
Mary answeredl. looking into her
fathers face. "I will marry this
man for your sake. but lie must not
expect affection, for I have none to
give. Tell him this that he may
not be deceived.''
"I will bring him here to-morrow
evening, for he is anxious that the
interview shall be over."
Mr. Meredith was relieved, the
fear of disgrace was removed from
him, and he rejoiced in the p)rospect
of a prosperous marriage for his
daughter.
On the following evening Mary
again sat by the drawing-room fire.
She was alone now and calm, but
her face was as pale as Parian mar
ble. The outer door opened, and
she heard the sound of heavy foot
steps in the hall. Once more the
image of Felix arose before her; a
cold shiver passed over her and un
bidden tears trembled in her eyes,
but by a great effort she subdued
her agitation before her father, and
the man about to buy her with his
gold enteredI the drawing-room.
Mary arose and extended her hand;
it was as cold as ice, but did not
tremble. She glanced at Mr. Am
brose and saw a man of medium
height with brilliant dark eyes; a
neatly-trimmed beared concealed
the lower part of his visage. I le~
geeted her politely, and tnnor a ant.'
A short time was spent in conver
sation. but gradually a silence
fell upon them which was becom
ing oppressive, when the visitor
broke the spell.
--3Iiss Meredith," he said, in a
soft, low tone, "you are of course
aware of the object of my visit here?
Pardon me if.I speak plainly."
.1ary looked up but made no re
ply. .1r. Ambrose's voice was so
kind and gentle that she thought
he deserved a wire who could love
him.
"Your father has told me you
have uo love to give me but that you
will marry me. 1. too, once thought
I should never love again, but the
sight of:you has dispelled the illu
sion. Let me tell you my story.
Long years ago I loved a beautiful
young girl and she returned my
affection. I was then young and
Jid not dream that Fate would
erusli out my soul's dearest hope.
That fair girl was my all, my very
life, and I had not a thought of the
future separated irom her. Her
father was a wealthy merchant and
I his poor clerk. When I told him
[ loved his daughter he spurned me
from his door and ordered me nev
er to enter it again. Oh, who be
sides myself can ever know the ut
ter midnight of my blasted hopes!
Crushed and broken I fled in my
lespair. In the whirl and excite
nent of business I strove to forget
my sorrows. Fortune singled me
>ut as her especial favorite, My
;vildest speculations were success
'ul and money accumulated as if by
magic. Thus eleven years passed
[ returned to the scene of my un
iappiness and saw you. Need I
;ay that all the old love surged up
n my heart again? Once more I
isked the old merchant for his
laughter-" the speaker's lips trem
)led; he extended his arms as he
Aontinued-"and he consents at last.
Jh. Mary! will you now be mine?"
Mary cast herself into her suitor's
>itstretched arm;. After all these
gears of misery Felix was restored
,o her!
"Felix Trafford !" gasped the
>d man as he started to his feet.
'Felix Trafford, my old clerk !"
"Yes, sir, the same. Do you re
ract your promise?"
"No, Felix, no. Take my Mary
trd forgive her father."
The happy suitor led Mary away
;o a seat and sat beside her with
iis arm still encircling her, as if he
'cared he might lose her again.
"Let us." lie said. "forget all the
)ast but its joys and look to the
'uture for what true love can give
is. I am now content, and you
ny Mary, are you happy in the'res
oration of your lover?"
"Ah !" she replied in a voice full
)f deep emotion, 4hiappiness is too
)oor a word to express my great
oy !"-Evenin Cdl.
IN #VERWIHELYIING COYi
P,IYI ENT.
A young gentleman anxious to
earn to sing, went up into the garret
>ne Sunday night about.bedtime and
'esolutely commenced his exercises
~vithi his Psalm book. lie had been
iinging but a short time, when his
atber, a fidgety old gertleman,
stole out of his bed-room, with his
light cap on, and on reaching the
oot of the stairs, mildly ingnir
"ameCs?"
"Sir?"
"Have yoa heard a very peculiar
noise, JamesT'
"No, sir; nothing."
"Oh - ab - I thought - but
2ever mind.
The old gentleman walked back
o0 his room, muttering in distinctly.
Presently James resumed his
axercises, and was getting on fa
onosly, as hei thought, when his
parent, like the ghost of Hamlet's
rather, again come forth, exclaim
"James !
"Sir !"
-'Are you sure that Bose is chain.
md up?"
"Yes. sir: I attended to it my
self."
"'Very well, very well; no mat'
Once more he returned to his
room.
Wondering what his father meant
by inquiring after the house dog,
Bose, James was silent for a minute,
but soon returned to his exercises
more vigorously than ever. Again,
however, he was interrupted by the
voice of his parent, shouting
"James'
"Sir!"
"I am sure Bose is loose."
"It can't be possible, sir."
'-He is, I tell you."
"What makes you think so, sir?"
"Why. for this last half hour I
have heard something that sounded:
very much as if that dog was wor
rying the cat."
James never resumed his exercises
after that overwhelming compli
ment
As charity covers a multitude of
sins before God, so does politeness
before WDOD.
and full of woe' comming to his
mind, he thinks of the words of
the Constitution, 'all men are born
free and equal, endowed with cer
tain inalienable rights, among
which are life, liberty, and the pur
suit of happiness,' and he goes in
and orders a schooner of beer.
When he gets full he is -the prey of
foolish boys, like fire-bugs, who
have fun jeering him, and 'they
snowbail him 4nd say 'Look at the
old drunkard.' If he lays down
on the railroad track and is killed
by *the cars, you read in the paper
of another veteran killed.' Your
only anxiety is-as to whether he is
the same cuss you trusted for the
tobacco last Summer, and the sol
dier is - buried without a tear.
as long as I live a 'man who
fought can have a share of what-I
have got, and I will help him home
when he is full of benzine, and
whip any boy that throws snowballs
at him, or -calls him names, and
don't you forget it."
"Say, hold on, Hennery," said
the grocery man, as his eyes-became
dim, "You go out and call that
soldier back and tell him he. is a
friend of mine. By gum, I never
felt so much like a pirate in my life.
You are right."
"Well' that is all right," said the
bad boy, as he sarted to go, "But
don't you ever act sassy again
when an old soldier comes in here
to get warm, and if he wants a plug
of tobacco and hasn't got the money
you let him have it just as though
he owned a block of buildings, and
if he forgets to pay for it I will
bring in coal or saw wood for you
to pay for it," and Hennery went
out whistling, ^ "When Johnnr
comes marching home."
SOnE STRAxGE SNAKE STO
RIES.
"So you want to know something
about snake bites" said Professor
Worth, at the North Side Chicago
Museum, in answer to a question
of a reporter. "I was bitten by a
snake," continued the collectnr of
curiosities, "and had a most remark
able escape from death. A snake
bit me on the thumb, you see, and
it had to be amputated to eave my
life," and here he showed a very
abort stump of thumb on the left
band.
"How did it happen?"
"I was feeding the snakes with
raw beef, as I had no birds or mice.
There were sixty of them in the
case from two to six feet long. I
had no stick in my hand-an un
usual oversight of mine-and had
to push back any that tried to get
out with my hand. Suddenly three
of them made an attempt to escape
in as many different directions.
Thinking to frighten thom back I
stamped, shouted and struck at
them with my hand. Two dropped
back, but one of them stood his
ground and raised his head toward
me-he was a rattlesnake. I made
a quick pass at him, but he was
quichei-, anJ buried hisjfrangs in my
thumb. I shook himn back. in the
case, closed the lid, and sucking
my injured finger, hurried for
thc door and sent a policeman after
an ambulance and a friend for w~his
ky. I drank a quart of whisky.
and was unconscious in twenty
minute,s. The doctors took it for
a case of alcoholism and pumped
the whisky out of me, or I would
never have lost my thumb. They
had never had a rattlesnake bite to
deal with and didnt know what to
do; but the next time I got rattle
snake poison in me I treated my
self."
"IIave you been bitten since?"
"No, but I ran a fang that one
of them had shed into my other
thumb a few morLths ago. That
was the first time 1 knew of rattle
snakes shedding their poison fangs.
I was cleaning out the case and
something scratched my thumb
through the spionge. I took it for
a sliver o.t first, but when I came
to look at it I found it was a fang.
I knew I was poisoned again."
"What did you do then?"
"Why, 1 used rattlesnake violet.
of which I made an infusion, and
it quickly cured me. I was in the
hospital three months the first
time, and lost my thumb. The
other is as good as ever, you see."
"Do you know of any other
cases?" was asked.
"Yes. Mr. Wallack, an actor, was
bitten on the leg by a rattlesnake
in this State yee.s ago. He buried
the leg in er.rth for twenty-four
hours, and the gravity of the earth
drew the poison and cured him,
but every year, within a day or
two, or exactly upon the day on
which he was bitten, his leg turns
spotted like the snake. A - farmer
in Tennessee, another acquaintance
of mine, was bitten by one of these
cottonmouth moccasins. The lat
ter are nasty snakes; they throw
out froth, and whenever this froth
touches the skin it poisons. He
made a tea of rattlesuiake root, im
bided freely of whIskey, and was
cured, but every year the foot that
was bitten turns the same color as
the cotton-mouth moccasin.
"I know of another man who
lives in the snake regions of New
York who was bittan he a raWti.
Aisellanesus.
TilE BAD BOY AND IIIS PA.
[From the Milwaukee Sun.]
-Say, come in here while I give
you a piece of advice," said the
grocery man to the bad boy, as the
youth entered the grocery one cold
morning, with an old veteran from
the soldiers' Home, who went up to
the cold stove and rubbed his
hands.and turning to the old veteran,
the grocery mar, added, "No, sir,
you can't i any plug tobacco,
unless you have got the money to
plank right down on the counter,
and I had rather you wouldn't come
here to trade anyway, because you
look hard, and smell frowy, and
my customers don't like to mix up
with you." The old veteran warm
ed his hands and went out, with a
tear in his eye, and the grocery man
took the bad boy in the back end of
the store, and said, "Y6u want to let
those old soldiers alone. Your pa
was in here last night, and he said
he was ashamed of you. He said
he and your ma were out riding,
and he saw you walking up toward
the Home, with soldiers on each
side of you, holding on your arms
and your pa thinks they were drunk.
Now, you ought to be ashamed.
Let those old soldiers alone. They
are a bad lot," and the grocery man
cted as if he had been the means
>f saving the boy from a terrible
rate. Tle boy was so mad he
"ouldn't speak for a minute, and
,hen he said:
"You and pa are a pretty crowd
;o go back on soldiers, ain't you?
low long is it since you were hunt
ng around this tow'n trying to hire
i substitute to go to war for you?
Fhen a soldier who volunteered was
,he noblest work of God, . and you
lelped pass resolutions to the effect
:hat the country owned a debt of
!ratitude to them that could never:
je paid. Every dollar pa got he
,ot out of soldiers, when he was
sutler of a regiment. Every mouth
Aul I eat now is the price of a sol
lier's wages, who spent his money
with pa. Pa wasn't ashamed of
oldiers then, and at that time a
oldier would have been welcome
to a plug of tobacco out of your
tore, and now you turn an old
wounded veteran out doors because
be hasn't got five cents to buy to
bacco."
"There, there." said the grocery
inan, becoming ashamed of himself.
"You don't understand your pa's
ituation, or mine, you see-"
"iYes, I see," said the bad boy.
-I see it all just as plain as can be,
nd it is my turn to talk, and I am
oing to talk. The time is past
when you need the soldier. When
you wanted him to stand between
you and the bayonets of the enemy,
be was a thoroughbred, and you
smiled when lie came in the store,
andl asked him to have a cigar.
W hen he,4was wounded you hustled
around and got together sanitary
stores, such as sauerkrout and play.
Lg cards, and sent them to him by
:he fastest express, and you prayed
ror him, andl you welcomed him
tome with open arms, and said
;ere was nothing too good for him
Forevcr after. He should always
'e remembered, his children should
'i cared for and educated, and all
:hat. Now he is old, his children
have died or grown up and gone
west, and you do not welcome him
any more. He comes in here on
bis wooden leg and all you think of
is whethe~r he has got any of his
pension money left. His old eyes
are so weak he cannot see the
sneer with which you, drafted pat.
riot, who sent a substitute to war,
look at him as he asks you for a
plug of tobacco and agrees to pay
you when he dIraws his next pension
and he goes out with a pain in his
great big heart such as you will nev
er feel unless you have some cod.
fsh spoil on your hands. Bali!
You patriots make me tired."
"You are pretty hard on us," and
te grocery man acted hurt. "The
goverment paid the soldiers, and
gave them p)ensions. and all that,
andl they ought to know better than
to get drunk."
"Paid them," said the bad boy,
indignantly, "what is four dollars a
month pension to a man who has
lost his arm, or who has bullet holes
all over him? If a train runs over a
mans leg. the railroad is in luck if it
does not have to pay ten thousand
dollars. What does the soldier
get? Hie gets lelt half the time.
I am opposed to people getting
drunk, but as long as lots of the
best people in town get drunk
when they feel like it, why is it
worse for an old soldier, who has
no other way to have fun and feel
rich, to get drunk. If you had to
live at the Soldiers' Home, and
work ojn the road, and do farm
work, for your board, you would get
as full as a goose when you came to
town. Outside of the Home grounds
the old soldier feels free He looks
at the bright sunshine, inhale'sGod's
free air, walks npright towards
town, and just as his old wound
begins to ache, he sees a beer sign,
and instead of the words 'Man that
Is hnen of wenman is of few days
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JOB PRIVTIW
DONE WITH NEATNESS AND DISPATCH
TERMS CASH.
snake. He made a tea of rattle
snake violet, applied a salve made
of iron root and cured himself. He
was bitten in the ankle, and every
year, same as the others, his leg be
came spotted like the -snake. An
other man whom 'I know was bitten
on the leg by a rattlesnake while in
the mountains, three miles away
from any house. He iade the
best time he could to the nearest
farm, but the limb was frightfully
swollen by that time. The womwa
there seemed to be considerably
versed in rattlesnake bites. She
ran out in the yard, and caught a
chicken, split it in two and applied
it to the wound. It absorbed the
poison very fast, turning green.
Then she threw it away and applied
another in the same manner, until
she had used twenty-one chickens'
and effected a comphite cure. This
man's leg, too, gets spotted yearly."
"Is this:chicken care common?"
"Yes, but generally a much smal
ler number is s9fficient. The case
I spoke of wasa bad one."
',Are there any 'other cares?'
'Yes. A madetone is a good
thing. I have one in my collection.
It cures rattlesnake and mad-dog
bites, and is porous like pumice
stone. When you want to use it
dip it in milk -or tepid water, to
open the pores. Then you- searify
'the wound, to make it bleed, and
apply the .stone. It sticks like a
leech for perhaps an hour, absorb
ing the poison till every pore is fall,
and then drops off. You clean
it by dipping it in milk again, and
keep on applying it until the poi.
son is under control; but in case of
a mad-dog bite it must be applied
within the: first five days, before
the spasms set in, because after
that the blood is so vitiated 'that
the stone can't absorb the poison
quick enough to save life. These
madstones are not believed in up
here, because people don't know
any thing about them. Down South,
however, where they -are knowvn,
they are greatly used."
ARKANSAW POLITENESS.
A correspondent of a Toledo pa
per has been struck by Arkansaw
politeness. This should cause no
atonishment, for, as a class, the
Arkansaw people rank high among
the most polite "folRs of the world."
Some time ago a gentleman came
to Arkansaw for tbe .purpose of
"wvriting up" its crudities. One
day, while standing on the bank of'
a small stream, a native came along
and asked:
'-Whut yer doin,' podner? Watch
in' a mussrat?"
'No."
''Got yer eye on a snake o' suth
in'. I reckon.".
-No I haven't. Go on away; I'm
trying to catch an idea, and don't
want to be bothered."
"You mnout ketch a few fish e f
yer wuster try rite hard, but don't
believe you'll ketch any ideas, fur
ter tell the truth, cap'n, I don't be
lieve yer're got the bait suitable fur
ketchin' ideas."
The writer was a very impulsive
man, and quickly deciding that the
scrawny fellow needed chastisement
he said :
"If I could get over there IPd
thrash you, my lank fellow."
"No trouble 'bout that," replied
the native; and rolling a log into
the water, he helped the correspon
dent across, whipping him, and con
ducted him safely to the other bank.
Oh, yes, the people of this State are
polite.-Arkansaw Trav.eler.
THEE ROSEBUD GA'RDEN OF
GIRLS.
The young ladies were looking
at a fine bouquet, and they began
to choose which they would rather
be.
"A rose is my choice," said a
queenly girl, "for I'd like to be ele
gantly beautiful like a rose.'
r 'd rather be a lily," said a gen
tle girl, "for of all flowers the lily
is the fairest and purest."
"Oh, pshaw!" said the flirt, "I'd
rather be a tuberose, for thegentle.
men all love to wear them near their
hearts."
"I'd be a pink," remarked a
meek girl, "because pinks are so
sweet and modest."
"Shoot it!" finally sang out the
gayest one in the crowd, ,knocking
her hat down over her eye saucily;
"you can be anything you please,
but T'm a daisy, 1 am, and don't
you forget it,"
A health writer says: Sleepless
people should court the sun. Those
who don't care much abent sleep
generally court the daughter.
"Johnny,"said the editor to his
hopeful, "are you in the first class
at school?" "No," replied the
youngstier, who had studied the pa
ternal 'sheet, '-I am registered as
second-class male matter."
If there's one time more than
another' when a woman should be
enotirey aoe itis when a linetof
clotes cmes ownia the md.

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