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Idaho County free press. (Grangeville, Idaho Territory) 1886-current, September 24, 1886, Image 2

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THE FREE PRESS.
ivh
nue
as
GRANGEVILLE, IDAHO.
to
the
THE CARDINALATE.
Description of the Ofllce and Its Far
Reaching Ecclesiastic Importance.
In view of the Pope's selection of
Archbishop Gibbons, of Baltimore, as
S member of the College of Cardinals,
the following facts about the Cardinal
ato will be found interesting: The Col
lege of Cardinals is the Senate and sov
ereign council of the Pope in the
government and administration of tho
affairs of the Catholic Church in Rome
and throughout the world, and is com
posed of a number of distinguished
ecclesiastics. The office and dignity of I
a member of this body is termed the
pin
I
Cardinalate. A Cardinal can not, un
less invested with the Episcopal char
acter, perform any act that depends for
its validity up
can he lawful!
on such a character, nor
ly invade the jurisdiction
of s Bishop; but apart from this his
rank in the church is always, every
where and under all circumstances,
superior to that of any Bishop, Arch
bishop, Metropolitan, Primate or Patri
arch.
Although all Cardinals are ecjual
among themselves in tho principal
things, yet in many
privilege, local ofli
are distinctions or differences estab
lished by law or custom, the most im
portant of which follow from the divis
ion of the Cardinals into three grades
—namely, of Bishops, priests and dea
cons. The membership of the sacred
college is limited to the maximum of
seventy. Tho number is seldom com
plete. In olden times Cardinals were
slrictly obliged to reside near the Pope.
The greatest act that a Cardinal can
perform is to take part in the Papal
election. When a Cardinal is living a
long distance from Rome the election
has boon known to occur before he had
time to reach the city.
The color of a Cardinal'
unless he belongs to a roligious order,
In which case ho retains that of his
habit, but uses the samo shape of dress
as the others. The red hat and the
beretta or red cap are tho most widely
known .distinctions of the order. A
good anecdote is told in connection
with the red cap. Pope Gregory XVI.
was a groat admirer of a certain Abbot
in Rome, whose habit was white, and
rumor ran that he would certainly be
made a Cardinal. Some time before
the next consistory the Pope, witli a
considerable retinue, went to visit tho
monastery of the learned monk. When
trays of delicious pyramidal iced creams
were brought in as refreshment the
Pope deliberately took one of the white
ones and handed it to the Abbott, and
then took a red one for himself,
one, of course, began eating until Greg
ory had tasted first, and while all eyes
were on him he took the top off his own
iced cream and put it on the Abbot's,
saying, with a smile, as he looked
around him: "How well, gentlemen,
the red caps the white." The Abbot
was so elated at the subtle suggestion
that he bought a Cardinal's outfit at
once. When the news of the Abbot's
precipitancy reached the Pope he was
so displeased that he scratched the Ab
bot's name from the list.
One of the ornaments of a Cardinal
is a gold ring set with a sapphire, and
engraved on the metal surface of tho in
side with the arms of the Pope who has
created him. The Pope himself places
it upon the Cardinal's finger,
actual value of the ring is only $25,
but for many centuries the ncwlv elect
ed Cardinal has been expected to give
a large sum of money for some pious
f iurpose. For a long time the sum was
arger than at present, and was paid in
gold, but in consideration of the gen
eral distress in the early part of this
century tho amount was reduced to
about $750. The last Cardinal who
gave the full sum before the reduction
was Della Somalgia, in 1705.
The Roman ceremonial shows tho
singular importance of the Cardinalato
by the disposition ordered to bo made
of its members after death. It iS pro
scribed that when life has departed a
veil shall be thrown over the face and
that the body, dressed in chasuble, if
B shop or priest, shall lie in state. The
hat used in his creation must be de
posited at his feet, and after his funeral
be suspended over his tomb. His body
must be laid in cypress-wood coffin in
tho presence of a notary and his official
family, a member of which lays at his
feet a little scroll of parchment, on
which have been written a very brief
account of tho more important events
of his life. Then the first coffin is in
closed in another of lead and tho two
together in a third one of some kind of
hard wood, each coffin having been
sealed with the seal of the dead Cardinal
and of the living notary. Before the
occupation of Rome by the Italian
Government the obsequies were very
solemn and impressive. The body
was borne by night with funeral pomp
of carriages and torches and long ar
ray of chanting friars to the church of
requiem, where it remained until the
day appointed for the mass, at which
Cardinals and the Pope were present,
the latter giving the final absolution.—
Baltimore Sun.
points of costume,
ice and rank there
If
s dress is red.
a
No
The
. MISCELLANEOUS.
—Scorpions, spiders and various in
sects have been observed to lie motion
less if a person blows upon them in a
vertical direction.— Chicago Herald.\
—James Hooper, of Lafay
hearing that there was hidden treasure
in the ground near a tree on his farm,
fell to digging about the spot and at
last unearthed an old iron pot contain
ing three thousand dollars in gold coin
and fifteen hundred dollars in silver.—
Atlanta Constitution.
—At a dinner given by Rogers, Feet
At Company to their employes in the
Metropolitan Hotel, Frank R. Cham
bers, one of the partners, announced
that the firm had determined to set
aaide a certain proportion of the profits
annually to be paid in dividends to the
persons in the employ of the house, in
addition to their present salaries.— N.
T. Pest
ett«, vru.,
A FAIR EXCHANGE.
ivh v S Detroit Tey-Peyer Preferred a
Whet.toae to a Patent Door-Spring.
it
on
of
a
a
He slid quietly into a Jefferson ave
nue hardware store yesterday forenoon,
unrolled a paper on the counter, and
as he held up a patent door-spring he
•aid:
"I buy him two days ago, und I like
to exchange him for a wheatstone."
"What's the matter?"
"Vhell, I can't make him fit on my
screen door."
"Why, that's the easiest thing In the
world. See here: This end screws on
the door, and that end on the easing."
"I tried him dot vhay, und he doan'
work."
"When it is on you take this metal
See the holus
pin and turn the spring,
there?"
"I does dot vhay, und my screen
doors flies opon."
"You turned the wrong way.
"I turns him eafery way.
times der door vhas wide open, und all
dor flies in Michigan go in, und some
times ho vash shut oop so tight I can t
get in my own house. 1 begin on him in
der morning, und I doan'leave off till
night, but he won't work right."
"That's curious. What tools did you
have?"
"I use a hammer und screw-drifer
und eold-shisel und saw und augerund
crow-bar und lots of more, but he doan*
spring for mo. My wifo.works at him,
too, und my hired man he lose half a
day, und I Vash discouraged. I guess
I trade him for a wheatstone."
"Well, I'll exchango with you. but
I'm sure I can show you how to adjust
it"
»»
Sorao
"I guess I doan' try any more. You
see, my life vhas short, und I can't
,8paro so mooch time mit machine ry.
If I get a wheatstone I doan' haf to
screw him on nor turn him around.
Dere vhas no pins or ratchets in his
stomach. He vhas all right both ends
oop. Maype he doan' keep oudt flies,
but ho makes no troubles for me."
The exchange was made, and the
man went away light-hearted, calling
back from tho door:
"I can make oudt a wheatstono all
right; und I vhas obliged mit you. A
wheatstone winds oop only one vhay."
—Detroit Free Frees.
SWEEPING DAY.
How It Can Re Robbed of Some of Its
Most Disagreeable Features.
If you look at your house-work as
tho means to a delightful home, it will
not seem hard or hateful; even the
dreaded sweeping day, whioh I own to
liking worse than wash day, loads to
the repose of fresh, fr^rant rooms,
and a sanctity from dust and deface
ment. It need not be quite so much a
penance if you have proper aids.
(These are covers of glazed cambric
for large furniture, carpet sweeper,
brushes, patience, care, etc.)
If you sweep with a broom, use
damp' tea leaYes, bran, coarse meal,
saw-dust or dry snow, to keep down
the dust, remembering to have these
things damp, not wet; to sprinkle only
a yard or two where you mean
to sweep at once, and to take it up
with the sweepings before you go
the next place. Brushing a damp
mass of dust and trash over a whole
carpet is not the way
Fine carpets like Wi
should be swept with the pile to keep
them from wearing; and dealer* say
that Brussels should be swept only one
way. It is a good rule always to begin
at the corner farthest from tho door,
taking up tho dust every yard or two.
Take tugs up, bringing opposite sides
together, not to spill the dust; lay
them face down on green sward, or
hang them so out of windows, and
beat the backs till all the dust is out.
Beating on tho face sends the dust into
the firm woven ground of the rug*.—
Baptist Weekly.
j
!
j
For Smarty, the juvenile, had read in
the chronicles how a man had onoo j
propounded that query to an auctioneer
who stood in tho market place, and on
his replying; "Yea, verily." he said; |
"Then I bid you good night"
As the ox goeth to the slaughter, so j
marehed Smarty up to the very front '
of the auctioneer.
Will you allow me to make a bid?" :
Up spake the auctioneer, who was
fly with regard to tho ways of tho un
godly:
"No, I will not.
from children and fools."
to
to improve it.
ilton or Mo
quette
AT THE AUCTION.
Veracious Account of a Meeting Between
Smarty and tha Auctioneer.
And it came to pass after the going
down of tho sun that young Smarty
was passing the mart where a certain
man cried out in a loud voice; "Two
am I bffered; do I hoar two and a
half?"
"Aha!" cried young Smarty, turning
to the companions who attended him.
"behold! the auctioneer. Let us enter
in, and mark howl will paralyze him."
So entered they in.
And still tho voice of the auctioneer
was lifted up:
"And a haf'n a haf'n s haf'n a ha'f.
Anybody say three-quarters?"
Three-quartexs said they not.
"Prythee, sir," said young Smarty,
"will you allow me to make a bid?"
I never take bids I
Then the people laughod Smarty to ;
acorn and ho slunk away, sorrowing. — |
Texas Siftings. j
J
!
!
A Juvenil* Tilt.
First Boy—My pa blows a horn in |
the band.
Second Boy—That ain't nothin'.
F. B.—Mischief it ain't; mo'an your
your ole pa can do. My pa goes to
parties an' picnics an' your ole pa can'l
go there.
S. B.—Ye*, an' mv pa is in the peni
tentiary an' your ole pa can't go there,
either.— Arkansaw Traveler.
—The writer of tho new song, "1
Love You, Darling, in My Dreams,'
should not forget that dreams go by
contraries. Little mistakes like thi
sometimes produce a discord.— Wash
ington Critic.
—The Queen Regent of Spain wi!
maintain and educate at her privat)
expense the children of those who per
ished in the recent tornado at Madrid
I
MASCULINE MEDDLERS.
In
this
not
Why a Snappish Woman Carried n Flake
of Soot on Her Cheek.
In one of the parlor cars on a west
bound Northwestern train sat a woman
who was not as young as she had been
and whose temper was, apparently,
not as sunny as it might be. For she
scowled and looked sour and tried to
read a bit and slammed the book down
and banged the window up and then
banged it down again when she found
the wind played hob with the carefully
trained bangs on her forehead. Taking
it all around she was in a fine state of
mind, and there was s big piece of soot
on her cheek of whose presence she
did not seem to be aware, but which
was observed and commented on by all
of the passengers.
Soon a traveling man came out of
the smoking-room, took a look at the
state of things and accosted her in so
low a tone that his fellow-passengers
were bitterly disappointed in not being
able to hear his remarks or the reply
thereto. The reply, however, was ap
parently very short and quite conclu
sive, for the traveling man retired
about as quick as he knew how and
with something on his lace which re
sembled a blush remarkably close, con
sidering that he was a traveling man.
Presently an oldish gentleman—not
too old to snooze in public when it is
warm, but yet old enough to be labor
ing under the delusion that he is yet
something of a lady-killer—presently
an oldish man of this sort woke out of
a nap, looked about the car to see if
there was anybody he could scrape
an acquaintance with, spied the soured
and spluttering female, and immedi
ately began arranging his necktie and
mopping off his face. Then he hap
pened to notice the piece of soot, and,
as he left his seat and approached the
woman, the passengers all watched him
expectantly.
"I beg pardon, miss," he began with
a smile meant to be charming, "but did
•you know there was a flake of soot on
your face?"
"Yes, I did," was the reply, snapped
out like the cracker on an old whip.
This rather staggered the old party,
but he partially recovered himself and
remarked:
"B-but don't you want to wipe it
off?"
"No, I don't," the snapper-like jawi
rattled out again, as the passengers
tittered.
"And may I ask why you wish to car
ry that soot on your face, madam?"
"Because you are the fourth med
dling old foof
there since I left Chicago, and I want
to keep it on long enough to find out
how many more there are of you."—
Chicago Herald.
a
who has told me it was
QUAINT OLD LUBECK.
A Visit to th* Market-Flare of the Once
Famous Hanseatic City.
The market place is a large quad
rangle, entered only by narrow pas
sageways at the corners, and through
the colonnade under the Rathhaus.
The scene in this enclosure is, every
morning of the week, a very charac
teristic and lively one. The pavemeni
is covered with farm produce and mer
chandise of all descriptions. Robust
peasant women sell the freshest ol
vegetables and the most delicious dairy
produce; fish women, ranged in rows,
each with lier feet and petticoat hem
tucked away in a box to keep the
draughts off, attract by their vigorous
cries, customers to select from their
stock of live fish swimming about in
trays; carts are crowded together in
one corner, piled full of great loaves ol
bread; pigs squeal and fowls clatter iu
pyramids of cages; tables creak with a
burden of quivering cheeses that
thicken the surrounding air; it is a
Babel of sights and sounds and odors,
which the multitude appear to enjoy
and thrive upon, while the stranger, if
at all fastidious, holds his ears and his
nose, or takes a speedy flight. At
noon time the shadows of the house
gable* fall upon a clean swept pave
ment, with only a couple of fruit
booths to remind one of the tumult of
the early morning. This is the hour to
sit on the well-worn bench under some
overhanging story, and imagine the
scene when merchants of every im
portant town, from Novgorod to Ber
gen, from Wisby to London, sought
this their commercial capital, in the
days before the discovery of the New
World, with its immeasurable re
sources, gave a new direction to trade,
and made the greatest commercial
partnership in history no longer a
j necessity. A Lutheran priest in long
! black robe and high ruff hurrying
j through the colonnade, completes the
illusion of the past induced by this
j unique picture of its grandeur. Two
little children in latest Paris fashion
trip along with their nurse, and the
| spell is broken.— Christian at IKorfc.
-♦
j A Paying Enterprise,
'
: whose offle* rent is $2,500 a year,
every penny of which is paid by
I know a rich man in New York
another man who for the expenditure
I contents himself with a desk room in a
far-away corner. The name of having
; an office with the millionaire, the rep
| utation of hobnobbing the day through
j with a magnate—that is what he gives
J his money for. Silly? No; it pays.
Two years he went into the scheme
! as a sheer speculation. He hadn't $100
! then; now he can draw his check for
$100,000. He has been trading on the
prestige of his office friend, and,
credited with a good many secrets and
lots of information that he doesn't
possess, he coins money out of the
crowd, who try to "work" himin seek
ing inklings of the millionaire's stock
market plans. There are enterprises
and enterprises in this world.— N. Ï.
Times.
|
I
—According to the Kievlanen, it
Pereislavl there lately died a Jew.
named Sribnyi, aged one hundred
seventeen, who up to his last rcmainci
hale and sound, possessed an acub
memory and a sane intellect, and evet
a few months before his end, content
plated marrying a ninth time. His eld
est son was only eighty-two year* old
but looked much aides
am
A STRANGE STORY.
Is
Beralnlsoencea Suggosted by n Poke-Stalk
Growing on n Grave.
Strolling about town to-day I found
myself at the gate of the Gallatin
Cemetery. At the suggestion of s
friend who was with me we entered
In meandering around my friend
pointed out the grave of Charles
Lewis, better known as "Pete"
Lewis. Said he: "At the head of
this grave comes up every year a large
poke stalk." Thinking there was
nothing strange that such a thing
should happen, I remarked "Well,
what of it?" "Now," said he, "I am
not superstitious, but this is a rather s
remarkable coincidence, as
vou will
learn when I tell you that Mr. Lewis
once killed a man about a poke stalk."
Continuing his story, he said:
"In 1844, now forty-two years ago,
during the great political canvass be
tween the Whig and Democratic
parties, Isaac Goodall, of Smith
County, came to Gallatin and was the
of Mr.
guest and intimate friend
Lewis. During the day Lewis and
ioodall were playing the violin to
gether (both were good performers)
and indulging freely in drinks. In the
evening they were downtown, and were
returning arm in arm singing one of
their favorite songs. Coming up the
street to tho hotel kept by Lewis they
found on the street an ox wagon loaded
with crockery ware, with a large poke
stalk standing in the wagon. Lewis
was a Democrat, and the poke stalk
being emblematic of his faith in the
Democratic party, championed then by
James K. Polk. Mr. Lewis invited
the owner of the wagon to take
a drink to the success of the
Democratic party. Goodall was a
strong Whig, and' remarked that if the
driver left liis wagon he would drive
the oxen away, at the same time pick
ing up a stone. Mr. Lewis was in
censed at the conduct of his friend,
and- said: 'Goodall. if you do I will
shoot you,' at the same moment draw
ing a pistol. Goodall immediately
dropped the stone and asked Lewis
what he had in his hand, and before
replying Lewis fired tho shot, killing
Goodall almost instantly. Goodall, as
lie fell, said: 'Oh! Pete, what made
you do that?*
"Lewis, without losing a moment,
ran into the house and up to the garret.
Great excitement followed, the news
spread rapidly and tho street was
thronged with friends of both parties.
The sheriff summoned twenty men to
assist in arresting Lewis. Mrs. I
came to the sheriff and told him that
Lewis was in the garret intoxicated and
heavily armed, and that it would be
death to any man to mount the ladder
leading to the hiding place of her hus
band, but if he (the sheriff) would
wait till he (Lewis) sobered she would
bring him down. After dark, the time
appointed for her to carry out the pur
pose of the sheriff, she piloted the sher
iff and his deputies up the stair-case
where the ladder was standing. Hers
she requested the gentlemen to step
into a room while she ascended the
ladder. Once in the room she made
them prisoners by locking them in, and
hastening Mr. Lewis dowb the ladder,
down the stairway and out through the
hackway and into the garden, he was
free. Every light in the house was put
out., according to the plans of Mrs.
Lewis. Just as the alarm was given
that Lewis was out, a negro named
Bob, belonging to Mrs. Lewi- fired a
pistol, and, callingout, "Here he goes,"
ran in an opposite direction to that
taken by Mr. Lewis, thus throwing the
guards off his track. Escaping that
night on a magnificent horse, procured
from Esquire Thomas G. Moss, which
was hitched in the back garden for that
purpose, he went to Louisiana, and
from there to Cuba.
"Detectives were employed to work
up the case, and two were employed to
shadow Mrs. Lewis, who it was thought
would join her husband, but the
woman's ingenuity was too much for
them. She would leave for a visit to
Louisville, Nashville or Cincinnati, and
a detective would follow. She thus
threw them off their guard, visited her
husband in Louisiana, and from there
went to Cuba. Tired of exile, after
ten years' wandering, Lewis returned
and gave himself up to the sheriff',
was arraigned, tried anti acquitted by
the courts.
"Mr. Lewis lived here until after the
war, making a good and useful citizen.
He died and was buried in his own gar
den where, I am told, a poke-stalk
came up every year at the head of his
grave. A few years ago his remain*
were transferred to their present loca
tion, and, as I was told, the poke-stalk
still comes up annually. His wife,
Mrs. Mary Lewis (Aunt tolly), lies bv
his side, a heroic, true, devoted
woman. During her life she never
faltered in her love and devotion to her
husband in his troubles. It would be a
waste of words to offer a tribute to the
constancy ami devotion of Mrs. Lewis,
not only to her husband, but to any one
who could claim her a friend. She
died about two years ago at the resi
dence of her nephew, Dr. W. R.
Tomkins, at the age of seventy-eight
years."— Gallatin Cor. Xashville Ban
ner.
j6W18
a
He
a
Things You Should Never Do.
Venture upon the threshold of wrong.
Spend your money before you get it.
Trouble others for what you can do
yourself.
Indulge in idleness, loquacity or flip
pant jesting.
Imagine that your troubles are the
greatest in the world.
Fail to keep in mind that there is no
magic like sweet, cheery words.
Be blind to the shortcomings of a
ft ipnd or the virtues of an enemy.
Make it a rule to do the smallest
amount of work for the pay you get.—
Good Housekeeping.
— John Most, the Anarchist, on en
tering the
mense bloni
barber.
deformity of his face was exposed.
The left side of his lower jaw is caved
in, and most of his chin is gone—
caused, as he says, by being kicked by
a mule.— Troy Times.
penitentiary, had his ira
te beard removed by the
Thus shaven and shorn the
STYLES IN RINGS.
n
hi
binatlnns Recently latro*
Singular C
duced by Lovers of Genuin* Jewelry.
The smart finger ornament just now
Is composed of three rings, each con
taining three or more stones set in the
same manner, but differing in k-ind.
The most elegant specimens are plain
gold bands set with five gems apiece ;
the first containing rubies, the second
diamonds and the third sapphires. Each
ring is a fac-simile of the others in
mounting and in the size of the getns
It is generally supposed that the rings
are joined, but they are entirely sepa
rate, although never worn singly.
A singular combination is shown in a
band of emeralds, one of pearls and one
sapphires, the ring containing the
emeralds being worn in the center.
The oddity of this is its chief charm,
for the greatest beauty is noticeable in
combinations of gems which are of the
same order and do not contrast so de
cidedly as do the pearls and emeralds.
A band of lapislazuli, one of white
pearls and one of pink pearls form an
artistic combination.
The gems are not embedded in the
settings as was formerly the fashion,
and for this reason they emit greater
brilliancy. A diamond or sapphire
ring (when only one is given) isfancied
for a betrothal, as the sapphire is be
lieved to have power to drive away all
demons and protect the beloved one
from magic and poison. Old seal rings,
with the family crest engraved thereon,
are attached to the end of the short
watch chain, and so become a procla
mation, even when one is gloved, of
the possession of a grandfather who
sealed his letters with something more
aristocratic than a thimble. The fanci
fully carved gold ring are seldom seen
—indeed, it is about concluded that
they were forgotten during the craze
for gems.
Tne saving up of one's gold and sil
ver to obtain one really beautiful and
real jewel is much more commendable
than the buying of imitation pins,
bracelets and brooches that are. appar
ently, gold to-day but very evidently a
base metal to-morrow.— Butterick's De
lineator.
of
t
-
PAINTED DRESSES.
Straits to Which Artlata Are Reduced by
the Exigencies of Trade.
Art and fashion are involved with
each other now as never before. Not
only do the designers of elaborate toil
ets reasonably claim to exercise artistic
taste, for much originality and beauty
are often put into the work, butgenuine
painters are employed to decorate
dresses. Usage in the most pretentious
New York circles authorize the wear
ing of exceedingly fine gowns at din
ners, and the apparel at the best balls
hardly shows such unique garments as
are seen in dining-rooms on occasions
of fashionable eating and drinking.
The aim is to wear something unlike
anybody else's garb, and to effect this
the silk or satin of a dress is often
painted by hand in water color or oil.
An artist acquaintance of mine, whose
works on canvas have frequently been
good enough to bo admitted to the
Academy of Design, was bemoaning
the fact that American buyers prefer
foreign to native pictures, irrespective
of merits.
"When a man has to go to painting
live women instead of bis own
creations," he bitterly growled,
think it is time for him to throw down
the brush and take up a shovel."
He explained that he had taken sev
eral commissions to decorate women's
dresses as a means of subsistence, and
that he was retained by a leading
dressmaker for that sort of work. But
be declared that he would never again
do what he had done in one instance,
which was to use his brush on fabric
that at the time inclosed the owner.
The belle had insisted that the figures
painted on the waist of her dress,
though they looked well in themselves,
were not shaded so as to be effective
when she had it on. Therefore, she
wished the artist to come to her bouse
and touch up his work while it was on
her person. That he regarded as hu
miliating. He could paint a gown in
his studio, but professional pride for
bade him to apply his brush to the per
sons of the patron.— N. Y. Cor. Phila
delphia Press.
"I
BRICK PAVEMENTS.
Said to Bo the Best and Moot Durable In
the World.
A reporter called on Rev. Dr. Ryan
to learn from him the relative value of
wood and brick pavements, Dr. Ryan
being well qualified to speak on the
subject. Dr. Ryan said: "I have had
considerable experience in pavements,
having traveled over the worst and
best in the world, including the Appian
way."
"What is the best pavement you
have found?"
"Brick. There is nothing equal to
it, and it will be the pavement of the
future. The road it makes is as smooth
as a floor, and it holds just enough
debris to make it noiseless."
"Is it durable?"
"Yes, indeed. I formerly lived at
Charleston, W. Va. Fourteen years
ago they laid the first brick pavement,
and twelve years after it seemed to me
to be in as perfect condition as when
first laid. Tires do not break or crack
it, as they roll aJong as if on a floor."
"How does it cost in comparison to
wood?"
"I can not tell, but is cheaper when
wear is taken into consideration.
Wooden pavements ar* only an expe
dient, having to be constantly repaired.
Then cedar blocks will not last for
ever. There will have to be a change
•oon."
"What kind of brick is used?"
"Either common red brick or fire
brick. At Wheeling fire brick is used,
and, by the way, are patented. They
are wider at the bottom than at the
top, thus permitting sand to work into
the interstices."
"How are they laid?"
"With the edges up, on a bed of
sand, below which is a framework oi
timbers. There is a fortune for the
man who introduces brick pavements
into this city, and 1 will show him how
to lay litem myself. There is no use
talking, brick is to be th* pavement oi
th* futur* ."— Detroit Tribum.
Willing to Arbitrate with Babaarlben.
W# Intimated tome few week* ago that the
▼ague fear *ai growing on us that our sub
scribers were on a strike Subséquent
events have gone to confirm the suspicion
O11I7 one or two have reported at the office
for duty during the Inst month or so. If they
are standing out, as we firmly believe, w«
wish it understood right here that we are
willin? to arbitrate. Even without that w#
will concede eight hours a day—if th*»y will
labor fai h u Iv at paying their sul scriotlons
for e ght hours each day th y can pat on
lb> ir coats and go home We wish they
n ou'd apnoint a commit ee to come in and
ea «boat it anyway. We will me?t them
half way and take them by the hand; capi
tal and labor should be allies, not enemies.
We thought we detected avmp'oms of a boy
co to: ce when a man who had taken the
pnrer 'or some time refus'd to remove it
from the pos offi'-e, but happily this danger
hi s boon averted.—Estelline (D. T ) BelL
A LEAF FROM A BRIDE'S DIARY.
Sh« Attempt« the Construction of %
Lemon Tie.
May 99 —George and I were married yes
Vrtlny quietlv by a jusiice of the the peace.
W • did not have dear pipa's consent, nor
much of anything e'se. I never saw a jus
t ce of the peacs before. He was a tallish
man, wi h an iron-gray shirt and a sunset
no e. I did not like his anpearanco, but he
- earned to understood his business fairly
eel. and so I ou ht not to murmur or re.
fine. Ktill he was not a man that I would
want to cling to. He looked to me like a
who won! 1 snort arrund the cemetery
man
rnd tear up the greensward when taia wife
died in the enrlv spring, and friend- would
have to cha n him to a tree somewhere till
his grief had snent itself, an i then in the
early fal 1 he would lower the top of his old
conorrtina plug hat, and marry a red-eved
wi low with a baritone voice and two sons
In t' e peid enliary.
If en o m had noticed me two veae* ago,
wh le I was reading "Cau le EnrKomirt's
Revenge," th it so soon I would be married
in a dark musty justice of the ponce's office,
in the presence of a drunk and d sorderly,
bv a mnirUtrate with a Titian nose and a
breath that woul l cat a ho e through a tin
roof, and that nfter the ceremony George
and I w< uid « at a chei se. sandwich at the
station. I cou' 1 not, oh I I could not have be
1 eved it.
To-day I am a wife with my joyous girl
hood, mv happy home and the jn-tice of the
peace behind me. I-ife ia now r*ai, fffe is
oar est, for we have no cirL We will not
keep a girl at first. G-org> aavs, for if w*
(lid she would have to hoard at home, as ne
have onlv one room, and it ia not a very
We take our meals at %
l?oml room either,
restaurant, and the bill o' fare is very good.
Yesterday evening I wearied of tho pie at
the restaurant, and G. orve is pasrinnate'y
fond of pie. too; so 1 told him I would bake
a pie for him with mv own fair hands. I
had never ma le a pie befor' all by my own
«elf. l ut I wanted, oh, so much to make *om*
kind of a dish that would delight my dear,
i rand-new husband. So this morning, when
George hied him away to his bus ness. I
went down sta rs, and asked, as a slight
lavor, that the lady who runs the house
would loan me her apron, her cooking stove,
• pie plate, two lemons, a cup of sugar, some
milk, etc., etc., as I desired to delight my
new frund husband with a lemon pie on his
return.
All last night I feared that in my sleep I
might allude to the prospective pie, and
thus give myself away, as one of our best
writers puts it; but I do not think I did.
So this morning, when George had gone, I
built such a dear, little, cunning pie with
I mons and everything that they put into a
lemon pie. Mrs. Pease, who owns the house,
told me where everything was, and then I
went to work. 1 mad'* a very pretty little
pie and flu ed the e lges till it looked as at
tractive ns an old-lt,shioned pantalette.
My heart bounded high as I thought what
dear O orge woul 1 ny and how his eye
would light up when ho came home and saw
It on the dres ing case.
Joyfully I put the stuffing Into the pie and
(• closed it. Then I put some real cute little
dats across it diar
please the eye as well as the pampe ed taste
ef my own true love, tor he is a man with
the most delicate taste, and when he Is
dressed for the day he always looks as
though he was about to have his picture
taken.
I got th-pie all rrady and put it in the
But after I had done so it occurred
ally so tliat it would
ov. n.
to mo th It I had not put any I aking powder
in it. so I took it out and removed the lat
t ice work I rom the still features of t ie pie.
Then I t ut .n qui e a lot of soda or baking
[owder that 1 secured f ora the upper
'.rawer in :1k* pantry. I then Reated myself
ni tliO oa ornent, an t while tue pie wai bak
lns, I sang a low refrain, meantime nimbly
constructing a f *w yard* of rick rack of
Ah. cil I nm passionately fond.
While thus engaged the oven door was
it.own off the hinges and the air was filled
with a subtle odor of some kind which I
rouid not describe. We pulled the pie off
the ceiling
of
oi
oi
. -
\

an
i\ i
â
h
-Æ r
iU
m

r/i
m
II
X.
ip.

We pulled the pie off the ceiling.
And tha carpenter has been at work on th*
woodwork of the house for an hour or so
trying *o make it look natural agi it. Mrs.
IYase says site don't know what I put into
the pie, w hether tho baking powder was a lit
tle remnant of percussion that her husband
left when he die I, or a discarded seidlits
powder, but that I never can lie too thankful
that it blew up before George Inserted it into
his true inwardness. Tomorrow I may try
again, and I want to cook a few of these eci u
colored doughnut* with apertures in th*
centre if I cnn. I want to do everything to
help George to acquire wealth.—Bill Nye in
B< ston Globe.
Why Farmers Smiled.
A preacher in a neighboring town preached
a series of twenty sermons on the "Prodigal
Son." Ho finally reached the place where
the fat calf was killed.
"O, my friends," said he, "that was a
wonderful calf. If ever a calf was fat and
sl*ek and well cared for, that calf waa
Why the dear old futlter had been fattening
It for years."
His audience was composed mostly of
farmers who knew that a calf could not be
kept many years without outgrowing it*
calfhood, to they might be excused for
smiling—Danville Bresse.

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