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VOL. XXV.-NO. 18. HERNANDO 1)E SOTO CO., MISS., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 25 PUBLISHED WEEKLY , 1890. A BLACK SHEEP. Bow Torn Shoes and Dress Helped Bertha Lampson. UNT ANN stood In tho doorway looking at mo doubtfully, don't know about letting her take it, Moses," sbo said. "It seems as if a girl of thirteen oug h t to bo old enough, and if it was Milly I shouldn't think of worry ing. But I nover I gw Bertha's boat for carelessness. As Mis' Stevens said yosterday, she's tho black sheep of the family, and always I will be." I had hoard this last romark often enough to grow hardened to It, and never dreamed of taking offonse. But Uncle Moses, who had prophesied, years before, that I'd "mako somethin' some time." and still hold to that opinion, put down tho dipper to say, with more than ordinary emphasis: "You lot her take it, Ann. cross-lots, and tho money'll get there jest as safe as if 1 stopped in the middle of hayin' to go." "It's better to leave tho haying over a day than to lose thirty dollars," I sighed Aunt Ann, sepulohrally. "But I you'll have your own way about it, whatever I do or say. Only I want you to remember it any thing happens, Moses, who it was that sent her." "Wa-al," hastily assented Uncle Moses, as ho started for the hay-field. That one word was a great favorite of bis. He used it it tho affirmative and negative; to express pleasure or vexa tion; when Ann scolded or the cow kicked over the milk pail. Once, when at tho age of four, I distinguished my self by falling head first into tho spring and crawling out unaided, he was startled into the incredulous ejacula tion: "Wa-al! Wq-al!" but that devia tion neveroccurred again. Aunt Ann, deprived of one Ustoner, turned to mo. "I don't know but what It is just as well for you to go," she ad mitted. "We promised to pay for the Cow tho fifteenth, and she's particular to tho hour. visiting here instead of you. Augusta is the same rolation to your family as she is to me, and It wouldn't surprise mo any if she should take it Into her head to do something for some of you children. I do hope, Bertha, if she inquires who you are, you'll try and act so as not to spoil the chances of the rest of the family." I brushed my hair in a way intended to express the utmost Indifference to "Aunt Augusta," her likes and dislikes. Secretly, I was a good deal excited. Ever since I could remember I had heard fabulous stories of the benevo lence, keenness and business capacity ol this great-aunt of ours, who man aged every detail of the large ostate herself. And now, instead of gazing at this paragon from the remote distance ot across the church, I was to see her face to face. The event was even of enough consequence, In my eyos, to jus tify a little extra pains with my toilet. "Perhaps," I hazarded, as I donned my best gloves, "sbo'U tako a fancy to mo and give me a musical education." "Sho won't," declared Aunt Ann, with a decision that left no room for hope. "She's one of tho most particular women I ever saw, and any one she takos n fancy to would havo to look as If they'd just come out of a bandbox. You could fix up all you was a-mind to, you wouldn't havo tho stylo to please her. It isn't in would bo a girl after hor own heart. I was thinking tho other day I believed Ed try to got her acquainted with Milly." I gave a disgusted look at the reflec tion of my thin, brown faco and lank body in tho glass, and mournfully de cided Aunt Ann was right. Oh, dear, dear! why was not I Milly? Or, if I s '•I & 'Tain't more'n a mile s Milly Aunt Hut I «»tsh it you. Milly, now, ! ..'I, '.v: t. ty « 1 v'' V If* Uf'A 5 «A <4jrl| ■ 'V / I YÄ uH.li Jïw I*. . *• SI m--ä i4#l S V V, m ,5?» e'- 'Yi" Hi • waited a moment and thf,n shouted in return. ®ust ho myself, why couldn't I have ™°n horn with a tasto for sowing and nxing-up,« Instead of for climbing fees, and racing tho old horso round > 0 bareback. I puzzled ovor this -°kundrum till I was well on my way J!, to £ivo It up as unanswerable. Butat any rato," 1 docidod, philosophi a h as I pullod my big shade hat arther ovor my oyos, "I can show her I ln »w how to out of a bandbox. act, if I don't look as if I'd " I had always > sur* I could talk bettor than Milll cent, and over this reflection I became quite myself again, and went on piek lng my way through the pasture, whlst Ing "Yankee Doodle." What if 1 was a blaok sheep? If my dresses chose to tear, and my shoes to wear out, sooner than other people's, I was sure it wasn't any fault of mine. And there couldn't be ar.y thing wrong in climbing trees, or riding the old horse bareback, courra I shouldn't do it when I grown up, and a great piano player, but— mo of t As of '•I Of was "Hulloa!" Tho voice scorned to come from some where underground, looked around. 1 stopped and The only living creat uro in sight was a brindle cow, which stood on the edge of a bank, ponsively looking ovor. I waited a moment and then shouted in return: "Hulloa! Whero are you? What do you want?" "Down tho bank. Como over hero," was tho answer. My first glanco down the steep ledge explained the cow's interest in the sit uation. Therq, at the bottom of the vine in an uncomfortably cram pod posi tion, lay the smallest specimen of a brindled, bossy calf I over saw. By the side of tho calf stood a boy—very freckled, very ragged, and some two years youngor than myself—staring at me with a wonderfully disgustod pression. "Was that you a-whistlin'?" "Yes. ra ox What do you want?" "Don't want nothin''o you," he ex plained, in a deeply injured tone. "I thought you was a hoy, an' X was goin' n j 4 \h a & ■ Em 1 m J feil!' T SHE LOOKED AT ME StfltPRISED. to have yer help git this calf out I can't climb up with him alone; I've b'en tryin' half an hour." "Why don't you go home and got somebody?" I demanded, approaching perilously near the edgo in my eager ness to tako in the situation. "Well, that's what I've got to do; an' I don't s'p'oso ho'll live 'til I get back. I do' know how long he's be'n here, hut he's pretty well tuckered out. Brindle hid him in the hushes, I s'p'ose, an' ho tumbled in." I hesitated. Old Brindle seemed to divine the situation, and looked at mo with pleading eyos. But I should be sure to get my clothes torn someway, and then Aunt Ann would talk about black sheep. "I'd help you myself, if it wasn't for my dress," I said regret fully, with a glance at the ruffles and frills. But the red-halrod boy did not seem to ho impressed by my kind intentions. He looked at me and grinned. "You help," ho ejaculated. "Huh! Y'ou couldn't climb down hero, to say nothin' of gittln' hack?" Dress, gloves, ribbons, woro of no ac oount after that! The next moment I was scrambling down tho almost per pondicular path. I would not have ownod it for the world, but it teas harder work than I had imagined. I scratched my hands and tore my shoo; caught my dross on a twig, and once missed my footing, and just escaped rolling to tho bottom. But tho descent was ac complished at last, and in a way that compelled tho admiration of tho hoy with red hair, who said: "I beat any girl he ovor seo, an' if I'd jest givo him my hand once in a while on tho way back, he'd remomber it of me." I think wo woro an hour getting that ealf up the hank; but it certainly was not my fault. 1 tore so many littlo three-cornered holes in my dress that I gave up trying to count them; clam bered up the steeper,t places on my hands and knees, and was not a hit dis couraged when, like tho frog in the well, wo climbed up ono step and slipped haok two. I bioko my parasol, jammod a silver In my linger, and lost my hair ribbon, hut tho calf was placed on solid ground at last. Old Brindle pleased, and, in that first flush of was victory, 1 folt that I could afford to for The red get those littlo drawbacks, haired hoy regarded me rather pityingly as ho said good-byo. "Miss White's? Is that whore you're goin'? There 'tis, right down to the foot of that big bill. I'm ovor so much obliged to you about tho calf, miss; hut it's too bad you got mussed up so." Fivo minutes later a servant had ush ered mo in to wait " 'til tho missus "Some ono to seo Miss White important business," I hoard hor ox "A beggar-girl, I oame. on plaining outsido. guoss. "Beggar girt." indeed! But just then I happened to glanco in tho large mirror opposite, and sank back in tho chair, for actually frightened l had known that my dross was torn, my hail frowsy and my gloves stained; hut tho know ledge had not troubled mo much. I was not Milly, and dress wouldn't make much difference with a black »hoop, | on co Wbat I had not know of mud reached from ray to my ear; and, worse yet, th my shoo had extended to my stocking, leaving exposed a considerable part of a very muddy foot. "What," 1 thought, springing to my feet—"what if I should spoil the chances of the rest of the fa ily!" lieforo I could decide whether it was host to run or stay and brave it out, the door openod and Aunt Augusta came in; and then my last faint hope died away. Sho was so tall, so digni fied, and —so neat. "Oh, Milly, Mllly!" I balanced myself on one foot in a des perate endeavor to conceal the ragged shoe, and told my errand with a cour age horn of despair, you tho money for a cow—thirty dol lars—from Mr. Mosos Smith." She looked at mo, surprised. "Yes, thank you. I will give you a receipt. But, pardon me, I do not seem to recog nize you. You are—" Tho air seemod full of voices, each ouo shouting louder than the rest: "Black sheep!" "A black sheep!'' "Black sheep, and always will be!" "1 am Mrs. Smith's niece," 1 stanr mered. "What? Not one of George Lamp son's children?" There was cortainly a good deal of surprise in her voice; and I felt that now, for the credit of the family, an explanation must ho givon. But sho should never know— "I should not have come looking this way," I began, in my most dignified manner, winking hard to keep back the tears. "But I stopped to help a little hoy get a calf up a ravine, and—" My long balance on one foot gave way. 1 staggered, made a wild plunge, and re covered myself only by describing a sort of half-circle with tho othor foot, now almost bare. That, and tho trem ulous smile on Aunt Augusta's lips, was too much. The next minute 1 was crying as if my heart would break. "It—it isn't that I care about myself," I gasped, between my sobs. "Only you —musn't laugh—or—think any less of Hue—or—or Milly. It was ray own fault, every bit of it. I looked all right when I started, and—and thon I stopped to help a little boy with a calf, bo—be cause ho said I couldn't, and tore my dress and my shoe, and I know Aunt Ann will bo so mad, and—oh, dear! I'm tho black sheop of the family, and al ways will bel and I don't see how I can help it." "Do you mean to tell me," exclaimed 'Ann that evening, when sne heard the vvholo story, "that sho actu ally wanted you to stay to dinner; and had you sit down with her, looking the way you did?" "Yes. ma'am," I answered, meekly. "I washed my faco, and her maid combed my hair; but that was all." "And then she asked you to corns over and stay with her next week?" "Yes." n was thar nose crosfrv tinea rent in m* "I havo brought Aunt "Well, I can't understand it. If she takes a fancy to any one, she takes it for certain. You'll get your musical education, I guesrs, If you want it; and I only hopo it will do you some good. But I can't seo into it You —and after you'd helped that littlo Irish boy with the calf and got to looking tho way you do now. If you had got what you de served, miss, it would be a good scold ing." "There, there, Ann, what's the use of going on so?" expostulated Uncle Moses. "She's done all right about the ealf. J always said Bertha would make a smart girl." "Smartl I nover said hut what she would!" exclaimed Aunt Ann. you know yourself, Mosos Smith (this in groat disgust), she's the black shoop of tho family, and always will be."— Paulino Phelps, in N. Y, Independent "But IN GETHSEMANE. It I» Now il Gardon of Flowers Frotoctod by Trim Paling*. On the vory lowest slope of tho Mount of Olives, deop down and unsepn ho yond the inclosing wall of ,tho temple area, lios tho garden which is so asso ciated with the sacred story— Gethsem ane, the scono of tho agony. Almost op posite to it, on tho other side of tho road which traverses tho narrow valley, is what is now called tho Goldon Gate, supposed to have been the Beautiful Gate of the Temple. It would bo the natural and nearest way by which to reach that sacred retirement. By this gate no doubt the betrayer and his stealthy hand would follow the stops of ths Lord to His favorite haunt, stealing down under the twilight skies to when the shade of tho palo olives sheltered Ilis prayers and mystorious anguish, and the troubled dozings of the disciples "sleeping for sorrow," confused by the strange uncomprehonded thlo of ovents which was drawing thoir feet toward something they know not what. And by this path again, no doubt, they led thoir prisoner back, avoiding the peo pled ways, hurrying Him into the stronghold of His enemies. It is said there exists a Moslem tra' dition that by this gate the Messiah is to ride into tho holy place, taking back his kingdom, and consequently the precaution has heen taken—a curiously ineffectual one, considering tho great ness of tho event—of building up tho There is something oven in this gate. superstition which is grateful to the imaginative mind. And tho singularly touching juxtaposition of tho temple gato and the garden is still more mem orable. Gethsemane itself, a site about which there is no manner of doubt, 1« now a garden of flowers, protected by trim palings—a modern garden, orderly and well cared for, which gives a certain shock to tho mind, hut rather for tho first moment than permanently.—Black wood s Magazine, A RIM OF STEEL. It's All There I» Uetween a Railroad Pas. songer and Eternity. I toll you what it is," remarked au old railroad man, "it used to ho that they couldn't turn a wheel any too fast for mo, but it's different now. Tho way _ theso fellows run nowadays make my bair stand on end. A\o used to think that twenty-five or thirty miles an hour was high running. People were just as well satisfied, if not more so, than now, and there weren't so many accidents. Those days when a man got on the ground thcro was some chance of his getting away alive, but when you touch ground on one of these fast runs now you're mighty liable to stay there. Peo ple aro getting to lcn»k upon a mile a minute as a common tning, and aro just howling mad at a road that doesn't make it. They never stop to think of tho danger. All they think about is to got to their destination. "Why, when I stop and think of being whirled across tho country fifty or sixty miles an hour, down hills and around curves, with only an inch and a half of iron between mo and eternity, 1 got so scared I swear never to get again. What do I mean by an inch and a half of iron? Well, you know what a passenger coach is, don't you? You know how they're built. A coach is a pretty solid thing now-a-days, and to look at one a person would think they wore pretty safe, but that's because you don't know any thing about it. Tho coaoh itsolf is all right as far as it goes, but it's the wheels. Did you over look at the wheels? If you did you may havo noticed how they're made. A good sizo, broad enough and heavy enough, and with a tiro of tho finest kind ol steel. But, on the insido of the tiro, a coach you see a sort of rim or flange. That Hange is about an inch and a half thick and about the same depth. It doesn't look as if it amounted to much, that little piece of steel, but that's just what the lives of all tho passengers depend upon. That flange keeps tho wheel to the rail and keeps tho coach from run ning off the track. "Well, now, when a train is going hour around a curve you fifty miles seo how much depends on that flange. The whole weight and speod of the train is against that flange on ono side, the outside of the curve, and it is all that keeps tho coach from whirling from the track. Su pposo tho flango he case, was worn down and had heen missed by th*. car inspector. The chances are ten to orte that the flange couldn't hold, butwoiild climb tho rail and thore'd be another accident. The reporters would bo told the rails spread or something of that kind, and no one but the company would know what caused the accident, "Thoro are a good many accidents that happen that way, but it doosn't ap pear to bo any of tho public's business. As a general rule a coach wheol is watched mighty closely, and the min ute a flango begins to wear now ones aro put on, but many a time an inspect or will miss a wheel and then tho chancos are big that there'll be an acci dent."—Kansas City Star. THE WORLD'S CENTER. Cities That Wish to Ii© II ©cognized ns Mid-Spot of Our Planet. For several centuries different cities in the Orient havo contested with each other for the honor of being recognized as the mid-spot of our planet. Quite recontly a London geographer issued an elaborate work in which he tries to prove the British metropolis to bo tho center of tho landed hemispheres. Jerusalem and Delphi, notwithstanding tho fact that neither of them is situated on tho equator, have for ages been tho two great rivals in this mid-spot discus sion. William Simpson, of tho London Society for Exploring Palestine, tolls us that Herr Schick has sent home drawings of the Jerusalem center of tho world. It exists, of course, in tho Greek Church of the Holy Sepulcher, not In the Latin Church. Tho spot is identified less by physical science than by prophecy. It is written in the Psalms; "God is my king of old, work ing salvation in tho midst of the earth." This can only refer to tho scenes of tho passion and of the holy sepulcher, and tho midst of the earth must, therefore, be found where the holy sepul cher is considered to be by the Greeks. The belief that the center is there, or thereabouts, is ancient, for it occurs in a work by St Ephrem, quoted by John Gregory in referynce to Noah's prayer. Hero St Ephrem says that Adam was buried "in the middle of tho oarth." Homer calls Clypso's island "the navel of the world, the center of all tho seas." In Æschylus a certain round stone in the temple of Delphi is tho "navel," or center of the earth, and hero does Orestes take refuge when pur sued by the Eumenides. Pindar has anticipated Æschylus here, and, after an era, Pausanius (like Herr Schick) had the pleasure of seeing tho only gen uine contrai hub at Delphi. "It is jnade," ho says, "of white stone, smooth and polished, and is the middle point of tho whole world." Delos, as well as Delphi, claims to be one of tho sacred places perforated by the earth's axle, and probably other cities, in all ages, have looked upon thoir places as de lerving of the same distinction. There ran be no closer analogy, however, than that which exists between the hall of stone in the Church of the Holy Sep ulcher at Jerusalem and tho round white stone at Delphi.—St. Louis Republic. —Chinese pheasants wero introduced Into tho woods of Oregon only eight yoars ago, and there are now said to bo Hourly a million of era there, th© MONKEYS FIGHT A DUEL. ; jlolh of the Simians Pound Dead Field of Honor. A duel recently took place in a travel . |ng circus temporarily stationed in a village outside Paris, and vory curious th« j were the consequences. "Two acro | bats," says a dispatch to the London Daily Telegraph, "quarreled, and ro j solved to fight a duel. The plaeochosen was the ring—after the public perform a anco, of course—tho conditions being two shots at twenty-five paces. As | usual, neither of tho combatants was ! hurt, and their wounded honors being ! satisfied tho incident terminated. The ! duelists and their seconds overlooked the presence of two members of their company, who wero quietly munching ! nuts in a corner. These were two trained i monkeys, who bad been taught to ride around tho ring dressed up as soldiers, and to fire pistols en route. The mon keys saw tho performance of their masters, and when tho way was clear they resolved to imitate it Gravely loading their pistols they faced each other—not at twenty-five paces, hut at five—and fired. They both fell dead, one with its head nearly blown off and tho other shot in the breast. At the sound of the shots tho master of tho circus rushed in and found the bodies of tho imitative duelists in tho ring with the still smoking pistols lying by them." Commenting on this interesting item, tho London Saturday Review observes: "In a gloomy week two monkeys havo considerably sacrificed themselves on tho altar of gaiety. 'There is somewhat wildly laughable,' according to a French critic, 'in whatever concerns death.' When wo 'have heard what mirth tho monkeys made,' it must be deemed ap propriate—if, indeed, the story is not an unworthy aspersion on tho intelli gence of tho animals. According to a correspondent, two acrobats in tho cir cus in Paris had a dispute, followed by an affair of honor. The distance was the nice gentlemanly one of twenty-five paces, at which even a good pistol shot may miss an opponent with a weapon in his hands. At all events, whether good shots or not, the combatants did miss. Perhaps they wore as nervous as the timid duelist whom Guy de Maupassant has described twice, once in a volume of sketches, and once in a novel, 'Bel Ami.' "Now amonf t.ho f** fair woro two apes. Tho creature is imitative and ingenious, but never has monkey carried imitation and ingenuity further than the Paris monkeys. The famed ape of tho cannon story had no compurgators. They only made ono difference in tho arrangements which they had observed to bo so picturesquo, so safe, and to honor so consoling. They found pistols and cartridges; they loaded; they stood up to each other at fivo—not twenty-five—yards distance, and they blew each other to pieces. Of all monkeys concerning whom history speaks, these alone are dead on tho field of honor. IIow tho details havo been discovered, as the monkeys chose no seconds, does not appear. Nor is it known whether they had been long on ill terms. Wo 'seek for tho lady' of this quarrel in vain. "Perhaps that is tho wiser theory which denies that the apes had any hos tile motives at all. They thought, from what they had observed of the duello, that it was an exercise no less friendly and harmless than gentlemanly. In his version of 'Tho Sleeping Beauty' Per rault makes the Beauty's little boy fence with a monkey. This is, perhaps, tho nearest to a duel with civilized weapons that any simian creature ever came be fore tho monkeys of the Daily Tele graph. The baboon is a belligerent ani mal with military discipline, and he is said to throw stones and do many other startling tricks of war. But a duel with pistols, and a doubly fatal duel, is a 'link too many for him.' Possibly tho monkeys fought on Japanese principles, wheroin it is dishonorable for either combatant to return alive. But we havo no evidence about the most interesting points, as who gave tho word to fire, whether it was not a barrier duel, and so forth. We only havo the sad plain facts to speak for themselves in the Daily Telegraph." ,f tnio of. Circumventing: Smokeless Powder. Ono of the summer's exercises at Aldershot has been what is called the infantry smoke attack. An advanced line carries with it a certain material packed in cases, which, when lighted, creates a dense smoke, and under its cover the main body goes forward, screened from the exact aim of tho enemy until within short range of tho latter. An antidote for one character lstic feature of smokeless powders is thus provided almost before they havo come into general use. While the French are said to consider the tactical j changes demanded by the new powders j as sufficiently important to require a re- | vision of their drill book, and while a ' German cavalry expert doubts whether j it will bo possible hereafter to do as ! much as hitherto with mounted troops ; against infantry, from tho lack of clouds 1 of smoke to conceal the advance, new smoko producers are already being pro vided. It is a familiar experience that when either tho attack or tho defense in the art of war obtains a new advantage, the other side invents something with which to counteract it; but in this in- 1 stance of tho Aldershot smoke cases the j response comes with unusual prompt ness.—London Globe. -A Woeful World.—"Scott! It costs I I j noney to live." "Why don't you die, hen?" "Doctors and undertakers are .oo blamed expensive,"—Epoch. PERSONAL AND IMPERSONAL. —It takes the Sultan of Turkey forty minutes to say his prayorsin royal form. —The spread of tho English language is indicated by the fact that it was used in the framing of a recent treaty be tween Russia and China. —The first colored graduate from the department of music of the University of Pennsylvania is Miss Ida E. Bowser, j She is an accomplished violinist and has written several short sonatas. | _ , ! ~ Da , rb Y' th ® * rcat h "? 1,sh M 1 " 1 ,'™' ! recently heat Parker and Short at Dud ! bn B land - in a three-cornered match, 1,6 wcm five i uln P s - wltl,out w '"ff''ts, 61 feet 6*4 inches; one jump, with weights, H feet 2 inches; one jump, 12 feet 1 *4 inches. ! . i wei ff hts , I his last jump becomes the worlds record. —Saxon and Berlin dailies say that Prince Bismarck has asked the Emperor to see to it that no monument shall be erected to him in Berlin during his life time. have requested tho Bismarck Monument Committee to dovoto the money already collected by it to the construction of a memorial church in Berlin. In the Reichstag Bismarck once said that "it disturbed him to walk by his fossilized solf in Ivissingon and Cologne." "I t not particularly susceptible," ho said at anothor time, "to this kind of mani festation of gratitude." —One of the Indian boys, in writing to a young lady of tho name of Kinc says naively: "I would like to say that your last name is man name, like to call you Queen, becauso that is good name for woman." Cloud Bear, who measurss six feet four inches in height, and is proportioned a writes cheerfully to a friend: "Mylitlio heart is just as full of joy as it can bo. I am a happy young man fron morning till late at night. My life is full of gladness, and 1 have not mu trouble me, nor full my heart with ness."—Hampton (Va.) School Record. —There is a family living in Athens, Ga., whose head delights in long na for the children. The first child is named Mary Magalina Mandy Mectum Elizabeth Betsy Polly Mack Barrett; the second child is named Alice Georgia Ann Yorena Barrett: the third child is named Mattie Frances Anna Tranna Barrett; tho fourth child is named Emorv Snear Walkor Buster the fifth child is named Tila Cory Cot ton Estollo Liniment Ettio Isiduler Barrett; the sixth child is named Mon tine Cinioar Barrett, and tho seventh child is named Elfico Bozma Mi Virginia Barrett. —A Biddeford lawyer has made one of the longest writs on record in Maine. It proceeded from a suit brought by ono Varney, a Konnebunl Mr. Ferguson, a Biddeford sash and blind manufacturer, and contained an "ac count annexed" sheets of long bill paper. Tho reason for the extraordinary length of the bill was that the two men have traded to gether since 1866 and have never had a settlement, as they kept their accounts very nearly even all the time. Mr Var ney, a short time ago, thought there was a balance due him, and this Fergu son disputed, hence the suit. It took v week to transcribe the long account. The ex-Chancollor is -aid also t 1 •ould moruingl y, any ■h to ru idenuy Quak aga: nst forty-twi rovering A LITTLE NONSENSE." —no (despairingly)—"I usb I could find something to take up my mind." She (softly)—"Try blotting paper." —The time passed very pleasantly in the parlor, and it was not till the clock and tho neighboring hells struck ono that tho lateness of tho hour struck two.—Exchange. —Judge—"Have you ever seen tho prisoner at the bar?" Wit your honor; hut I've seen him when I strongly suspected he'd been at it."— Binghamton Leader. —In the Moonlight—Sho—"Quick, look out you must not let them see y withyourarm around my waist" He — "Oh, I don't care, 1 would run any risk for your sake."—Exchange. —New Neighbor (in Chicago)—"Good morning, my little dear. ! saw you out 'itii a very fine looking gen tleman last evening. Is he your papa?" Little girl—"Yes, sir, an' lie's orioof the nicest papas I ever had."- N. V. Weekly. —"Did any man ever kiss yo "Before—to-day? No, Ed rard, you are tho first" And tho re need to tear to blot out the 1X1), for ho was the first that had kissed lier that day.— Philadelphia. —"Johnny, what is tho speed of the "The snail has no speed." "I know. But how fast does he travel?" walking before, darlin cording angel didn't di P a snail?" j "I a m sorry to say that 1 do not know.— j Harper's Bazar. | —Harry—"Dearest, 1 love you bettor ' and better every moment, and 1 long j for the time to come ! my own dear ; well, Harry, there's plenty of time, and 1 "Ho does not travel fast, sir; slow." "Well, then, if y it so, how slow does the snail travel?" must havi hon V shall bo Dearest -"Oh, rife." as you say your love's increasing all the time, it would be foolish to marry be fore It became wholly ripe."—Boston Transcript. —Aunt Chloe—"Yes, Rastus, it were a sad case; ono o' do saddes' dat I across. De boy was jes' runnin' across de railroad track bringin' home a water million from mahket. When he crossed de track he sat down absent-minded like 1 j come to plug the million ter see if it were I ri P e ' an ' a train " orm ' »'""S' and cut I both his legs." Uncle Rastus—"Doah me, Suz; ain't dat tumble. D.d you j heahif de million waz ripe? "—America.