The midland journal., September 01, 1893, Image 1

About The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947

Image provided by: University of Maryland, College Park, MD

                
THE MIDLAND JOURNAL,
—PURLTHHFD EVERY FRIDAY AT—
RISING SUN, MD. V
—b r
E. E. EWING & SONS.
TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION.
One Year, in Advance, - - - - SI.OO
Six Months, “ ----- .50
Three Months “ ----- .25
Single Copy, 2 cents.
—ADVERTISING RATES FURNISHED ON APPLICATION. —
Entered at the Post Office in Rising Sun, Md. as Second
Class Matter.
Easy to T ake
And prompt to cure, Ayer’s Pills act
on the intestines, not by stimula
ting, but by strengthening them.
They promote the natural peristaltic
motion of the bowels, without which
there can be no regular, healthy
operations. For the cure of consti
pation, biliousness, jaundice, ver
tigo, sick headache, indigestion, sour
stomach, and drowsiness,
Ayer’s Pills
are unsurpassed. They are equally
beneficial in rheumatism, neuralgia,
colds, chills, and fevers. Being j
purely vegetable, delicately sugar- I
coated, and quickly dissolved, they
are admirably adapted for household
use, as well as for travelers by land
or sea. Ayer’s Pills are in greater
demand, the world over, than any
other pill, and are recommended by
the most eminent physicians.
Every Dose Effective
Prepared byDr.J. C. Ayer & Co., Lowell,Mae..
Sold by Druggists Everywhere.
lil ripans ,#^l
>! TABULES.
!; i Ripans Tabules are com- i; i
1 pounded from a prescription j, j
]>] used for years by well-known ( ’,
iji physicians and endorsed by i'i
V leading medical authorities V
!! everywhere. In the Tabules ||
iji the standard ingredients are ■
<! presented in a form that is y
]| becoming the fashion with V
i ’ modern physicians and modern < ] i
1 ! 1 patients everywhere. v
!) Ripans Tabules act gently but r|
1 " 1 promptly upon the liver, stomach and l l l
|intestines; cure habitual constipation, '* |
J dispel colds, headaches and fevers. Ji
V One Tabule taken at the first symp- 0
V toms of a return of indigestion, or
i'i depression of spirits, will remove the ("
V whole difficulty within an hour. V
|*' Persons in need of the Ripans Tab- ]-1
|'| ules will find the gross package i ’ i
i]' most economical to buy. It is also
V in convenient form to divide up
i'i among friends. The above picture i’i
represents a quarter gross box, sold <,
for 75 cents. A single bottle can be X
ihad for 15 cents. i]>
') RIPANS CHEMICAL CO., 0
!;i 10 SPRUCE ST., NEW YORK. \*>
4 Scientific American
E MAR!c8 f
DESIGN PATENTS,
For information and freo TTnndbook write to
MUNN & co., Btil Broadway, New York.
Oldest bureau for aocurinu patents In America.
Every patent taken out by us is brought before
the public by a notice given tree of charge in the
JfoitHtifif JUnmcitu
Largest circulation of any scientific paper in the
world. Splendidly illustrated. No intelligent
man should be without it. Weekly, a
yeaw sl.sosix months. Address MINN & CO*
fcußLisiauis, 3til Broadway, New York City.
New Livery.
The undersigned is now prepared to
furnish first class teams for livery pur
poses, Gan supply any style turnout
desired and solicit a share of the pat
ronage.
Single or Double Teams,
Buggies, Carriages,
Daytons, Surreys, &c.
Teams the best! Rates as low
(■fs the lowest!
5. A. Pogue,
Rising Suu, Md.
J. H. MEDAIRY. GEO. B, MKDAIRY,
J. H. Medairy & Co.
PQQksellers,
Stationers,
Lithographers
and Printers,
Blank Books Made to Order in Any Style
No. 5 North Howard Street,
BALTIMORE, MD. a2y
, ||he| |j|IDLANDI gjoUBNAL. j
VOL. XV. RISING SUN, CECIL COUNTY, MD., FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER I, 1893. NO. 51.
to.
IN A NOOK.
From distant prospects wit'a their sweep
Of mountains rising to the sky,
With shadowy vales and scenes that keep
The soul itr thralldom to the eye;
From rolling clouds and landscapes wide
1 love, at times, to turn aside
And by the margin of a wood
In seme sequestered nook to rest
Where wild flowers spring; a gentle mood
Of sweet content here fills the breast.
And violets clustering hero and there
Invito a visitor to share
The peace and quiet of a scene
That hath a beauty all Its own,
Where woods nud thickets make a screen
To hide the world, and hither blown
Come breathings of some milder clime,
Faint whisperings of the summer time.
A chirping sound from yonder copse,
A rustic in the dry leaves near,
Make known a comrade; there he hops,
A bush will hide nil he holds dear,
And o'er this spot there rests a spell
Whose meaning he alone can telL
No need has he of anxious thought,
No care to hoard his winter store.
Not from far lands his food is brought,
He finds it daily at his door,
And In a burst of thankful song
He ends the day, nor finds it long.
Here, too, would I invoke the power
Of that great Presence, felt, not seen.
Who watches e’er this secret bower—
Who drew me to this place, I ween,
That I might share yon warbler's peace
While bouings of the morrow cease.
-Andrew Tully, in Springfield (Mass.) Repub
lican.
OLD ab.
Tho Miners Helped Him for His
Wife’s Sake.
“Of all the onery, wuthless, trifling
fellers ever X knowed sence X war
horned, I’m blamed if old Ab Jones
ain’t the wnst. I’ve knowed some mis
er’bly shiftless cusses in these yere dig
gin’s, but I never run acrost anybody
that could hold a candle to old Ab, an’
for down right triflin’ness I’d be willin’
to him agin creation.”
The miners up in Cool Run Gulch had
just finished supper and were lounging
on the grass, enjoying a smoke, when
old Sandy Seott gave expression to this
opinion.
“Why, Sandy, what’s struck ye so
suddent?” Rile Creason asked.
“Reckon a feller don’t have to be
struck so awful suddent to know that
old Ab Jones ain’t no’count,” Sandy re
plied, rather sharply.
“Reckon not, Sandy. I ’low if a fel
ler is half-witted he kin size up old Ab
to a ‘t’ on fusi sight. Guess thar ain’t
a man in camp but what’s figgered him
out as purty blamed triflin’. But by
sich a suddent burst on your part I
kinder ’lowed mebby somethin’ had
happened.”
“Happened!” old Sandy cried.
“Hain't somethin’happened? Ilain’t it
nothin’ when a feller works hard in the
mine all day to have to come home an’
cook supper jest because old Ab is off
skylarkin’ ’round down thar at the
post, hevin’ a good time? Hain't that
nothin’, fellers?”
“Why, yas, it is, of course,” Rile ad
mitted; “but mebby Ab has business to
keep him down thar.”
“Business? Reckon it ain’t likely as
such cattle as him ’ud have any busi
ness anywhere, less’n it wuz with the
marshal. This makes three times in the
last month that we've come down from
the mine to find old Ah gone an’ no
supper cooked, an’ I’m blamed tired of
it. If a feller pertends to cook X want
’ im to do it, an’ if lie can’t do it, an’ do
it reg’lar, why let ’im quit.”
There was a chorus of assent. Just
then tho object of comment drew near.
Doffing his old hat he said:
“Boys, I’m sorry I didn’t get hack
sooner, but I got a letter from—”
"Oh, give us a rest on that,” Mart
cried. “We’ve heerd sich tales afore.”
“But this is a fact. Mart,” Ab went
on, “an’ I want a leetle money fer—■”
“Git out, old chap. Yer not goin’ to
git no money, an’ yer needn’t think it.
Why, blame it! yer don’t pay fer yer
feed, much less earn money.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to git sup
per,” Ah protested, “but 1 got a letter
from homo an’ it says my wife is sick
an’ needs money, an’ I stayed down
thar tryin’ to raise ten dollars to send
to her. An’ 1 thought—”
“Wal, yer thought wrong,” Mart ex
claimed, “if yer caclcilated to work us
with that story. " Git out an’ clean up
them supper tilings.”
Ab saw that it was useless to argue
further, and at once withdrew.
“Look here, boys,” says Jack Bone,
“ain't it jest possible that thar may he
some truth in what Ab says?”
“Reckon it hain’t likely,” Mart re
plied. “Don’t s’pose the old scamp’s
got a wife in the first place, an’ lie’s jest
a-tryin’ to work us fer a few dollars to
spend. My notion is we’d best give ’im
ten hours to leave the camp in’ an’ if
he don’t go, stretch 'im. He’s a tarnal
nuisance here, with his continnerly
playin’ off sick an’ wantin’ money fer
one thing an’ ernuthur, an’ the sooner
ve git rid of 'iro the'better, an’ I'm fer
notifyin’ ’im to git."
This proposition being unanimously
agreed to, old Sandy Scott and two
others were selected to go down and
give Ab Jones notice to “skip.” The
evening was warm, and the door of old
Ab’s cabin stood open, so that the men
as they approached had a complete
view of the interior of the little room.
’ Old Ab was there, and, wjth his hands
grossed behind him and his head bqwed,
paced the floor in a restless manner,
stopping ever and anon to gaze at some
small object which he held in his hand.
“Humph!” ejaculated old Sandy,
“that’s a blamed quare sort o’ doin’s,
shore. ”
“Wonder what he’s got in his hand?”
said Jack Bone.
, “Dunno,” replied Sandy. "He'pears
to git a good bit o’ satisfaction outen
it, don’t he?”
"Wal, whatever it is,” remarked
Mart Barker, "I Tow it ain’t nothin’
to us, and we can’t stay here all night.
Less give him the notice an’ git back. ”
The men came to the door and old
* Mart said:
3 “Ab, we’ve sorter made up our minds
I that we don't care to have you in this
| yere camp no more, an’ we want you to .
r I git. We give you ten hours to cl’ar out, •
an’ if you ain’t gone then, why, yer [
know what we’ll do ’uth ye.”
“What’ll ye do?” Ab asked, listlessly, j
“Why, blame it, feller! we’ll stretch j
ye, o' co'se.”
For almost a minute old Ab stood
staring vacantly at the men, then, j
without a word, resumed his walk,
while the committee went back to the
camp.
This affair took place in ’54, at a lit
tle mining camp up in Coon Run gulch,
over beyond the Sierra Nevada range.
There were not more than a half-dozen
men in the camp, and it was at least
fifteen miles from the nearest post.
For six months the miners had worked
on a lead, and, at last, after much
’labor and many discouragements, had
succeeded in locating a good pay streak,
and late in the afternoon on which this
story opens they had uncovered a
pocket of pure gold, supposed to be
worth at least a thousand dollars. On
account of it beinc so late old Sandy
had advised leaving the ore untouched
until morning, saying:
“It’ll be perfeckly safe whar it is, an’
for my part I’d ruther take it out in
broad daylight, so's we’ll be shore not
to lose none o’ the stuff. ”
The others agreed to this after a lit
tle demurring, and so the pocket with
its rich contents was left unmolested,
and the miners went up to the camp
feeling happy.
The next morning they were astir at
an early hour, and before the sun had
peeped over the line of mountains that
lay away off to the east they bolted a
hurried breakfast and started for the
mine, never once thinking of old Ab
and the events of the previous evening.
Old Sandy was the first to enter the
mine, and he had no sooner reached
the bottom than he cried:
“Boys, it's gone!”
“Gone?” they repeated.
“Yes; gone. Ever’ blamed bit o' the
stuff’s gone slicker’n grease. ”
The other’s hurried down, and for a
little while they all stood about gazing
blankly at the empty pocket.
“Wal, ding my buttons!” Baldy Per
kins exclaimed, “if that don’t naterly
teetotally stump my taters.”
“It’s ernuff to stump anybody’s ta
ters,” said Sandy. “But whar in the
name o’ Sam Hill kin the stuff a’ gone
to?”
“Wal, fellers,” old Mart began, “it
didn’t walk away, did it?”
“Reckon not.”
“An’ it didn’t fly away, nuther?”
“Guess it didn’t.”
“Then it stan’s to reason that some
body took it away, don’t it?”
“Course somebody took it away. But
who? Thet’s what I want to know.”
"Wal, figger the thing out in yer own
minds, boys,” Mart went on, “an’ then
say who’d he likely to a’ took it.”
"I have figgered it,” said Sandy, “but
blamed if I can settle on anybody.
Don’t see who could a’ done it.”
“Don’t none of yofl ketch a idy?”
Mai’t asked.
They all shook their heads.
“Wal, I’ve figgered it, fellers,” Mart
continued, “an’ takin’ it up one way
and down t’other, I don’t make out that
it can be anybody but old Ab Jones.
Thar ain’t nobody else up yere to a’
took it, and so I Tow, puttin’ it all to
gether, thar ain’t much room left for
doubtin’ of him.”
There was a momentary silence, then
Sandy said:
“Boys, puttin’ this an’ that together,
an’ it does look purty blamed much
like old Ab might a’ got that thar stuff.
You know he was in a great stew fer
money last night, an’ arter we give Tin
notice to leave lie jest about robbed
thet pocket an’ skipped. As Mart says,
thar warn’t no one else to take It, an’
he's most doggoned triflin’, shore.”
“Old Abis triflin’ an’no ’count,” Jack
Bone said, “an’ I don’t deny it; but I
don’t hardly b’lieve he robbed the mine.
He’s been about yere fer six months,
an’ he never stole nothin’ afore.”
“Wal, who else could it be?” Mart
asked.
“I dunno, I’m shore,” Jack replied,
“but I can’t git it into my head that it
was old Ah,”
Another short silence ensued, broken
by Sandy, who suddenly looked up to
remark:
“Wonder if Ab’s gone yit?”
“Dunno,” said Mart. “S’pose we go
an’ see?”
The miners at once repaired to old
Ab’s cabin. They found the door shut,
the one little window blinded, while a
deathlike stillness reigned all about
“lie's skipped, hoys,” Sandy said.
“Yas, he’s gone,” Mart replied, “but
I ’low we’d better look through the
cabin an’ see what’s to be seen. ”
“Come on, then,” cried Sandy, as
he led the way to the door. "It’s
blamed fortnit for the old cuss that he
did leave, sartin, er he’d a-been hung
in mouty short order, shore.”
Sandy gave the door a rude push and
it turned back on its rough wooden
hinges. A streak of sunlight fell intq
the room, dispelling tho darkness, and
after a moment the miners were able
to distinguish objects.
“By jix! boys,” old Sandy exclaimed,
“he ain’t gone, after aIL”
“ne ain’t?” the others cried, crowd
ing up to peer in. “Where is he?”
“Thar, on the bed.”
“He is, as shore as shoutin’,” Jack
said.
“I Tow we’ll git to stretch the old
chap yit- Better git a rope, some
body."
The figure on the bed made a per
ceptible movement, and a moment later
brought his hand before his eyes, hold
ing some small object at which lie gazed
intently.
“That’s the same thing he had last
night,” said Sandy. “Wonder what
it is?”
“It looks kinder like a pictur, don’t
It?”
“Blamed if it don’t, fellers," Sandy
said, as he advanced toxuard the bed
with cautious step.
“What’s up ’uth ye?” Sandy ex
claimed, giving old Aba rude shako.
“I’m a-comin’, Liza," Ab muttered.
“It’s a long way, you know, an’ it’s
powerful tirin’ climbin’ the range. A
toiler has to rest a leetle, but I’ll be
■ thar d’reckly."
1 “Humph!'’ old Sand; murmured,
I "that's a queer sort o’ talk. Reckon
I your outen yer head, ain’t ye?”
“I’m cornin’ as fast as I kin, Liza,”
old Ab went on, “but walkin’s slow,
| an’ I’m not feelin’ well. The boys
wouldn't give me no money, er I’d 'a'
| come on the stage. I ain’t much 'count
1 to ’em, an’ I only do the cookin’ at the
; camp, an’ they think my grub is pay
’nufif fer that.”
“What’s he gittin’ through ’im,
Sandy?” some one asked.
“Blamed if I know. Here’s a letter
from somebody. Rile, you got ’bout
all the lamin’ thar is in camp, s’pose
you see what it’s about.”
Rile took the letter and glanced down
the page.
“Fellers,” he said, “Ab wuz right.
This is a letter from home, an’ his wife
|is sick. It urges him to come home at
once, as she is likely to die, an' begs fer
a sight of him once more afore she
goes.”
There followed a short silence, dur
ing which the men looked inquiringly
at each other.
“Wal,” old Sandy asked, “what’s to
be done?”
“Blamed if I kuow,” said Mart.
“Reckon we ortent a’ been so hard on
Ab.”
“Guess we wuz aleetle grain too fast,
Mart, an’ I Tow he never stole the ore,
or he'd been gone with it- We ort to a'
give ’im some money last night. Does
that thar letter say Ab’s woman is in
need o’ money, Rile?”
“It says she is sufferin' fer means.”
“Wal, means is money, I Tow. Is her
address thar?”
“Yas. She’s over at Frisco.”
“Takes a week to git over thar, don’t
it?”
“Most a week, I jedge.”
“An’ that letter says Ab’s woman is
’bout to die, an’ wants means an’
wants Ab?”
“Yas; that what it says.”
“Wal,” said Sandy, “I’ve got ten dol
lai’s o’ means for old Ab’s woman.”
“An’ so hev I,” cried Mart.
“Me, too,” said Jack.
Rile and Baldy put down ten dollars
each.
“Fellers,” Sandy said, “I’ll go down
to the post an’ send this on, an’ fetch
that ‘doc’ up to see Ah. I Tow he must
be purty blamed sick. ”
It was late when Sandy returned
with the doctor, and they found Ab
much better. Two or three days later
lie %vas able to take tho stage for
Frisco, and the miners “chipped in” to
pay his fare. They also bought him a
new suit and gave him a little pocket
change.
“Old Ab’s not much force,” Sandy re
marked as the stage rolled away, “but
when a feller’s wife’s sick blamed if it’s
right to hold up agin ’im, ’specially
when she’s sich a purty, sweet creeter
as the face in that pictur.”—Thomas
P. Montfort, in Leslie’s Newspaper.
FISH-HATCHING HENS.
A Strange Use Made of Biddy by the
Chinese.
A society for the prevention of cruel
ty to hens in particular may be the next
in the long list of societies designed
for the amelioration of animal life.
The hen is a cheery, good-natured crea
ture if left to her own inclinations, hut
if any spark of reason exists in that
small cavity allotted for her brains
she must wonder why she is so seldom
allowed to follow her natural instincts.
She is shut up when she would run
free, stoned and driven violently away
from choice pasture lands, ignomin
iously tied to a tree or soused in cold
water when she longs to sit on a nest
full of pretty eggs, and in order to get
herself in good condition for Christ
mas or Thanksgiving she must run
hither and thither from morning till
night to get her small mouthfuls.
Some other lien is usually after the
fat worm or other tid-bit which she
has espied, and if she is the victor she
must swallow her morsel in dyspeptic
haste else it will be snatched from her
at the last moment. The latest indig
nity practiced on this amiable bird is
found in China, where the spawn of
fish is delicately placed inside of an
eggshell from which the contents
have been blown, and while the moth
er fish is darting off through cool
waters in search of a good time, and
while the eggs which she longs to
brood over have been taken away, the
insulted biddy is forced to sit on the
fish eggs until they are ready to be
plaoed in warm water, where they
hatch at once. Then the fish step
mother is allowed to cluck her sweet
and patient way back to her family
until her services are again required.
A QUEER CEREMONY.
Announcing: the Butchery of an Ox li\
Rural Franco.
The crier or tambourineur, as he is
generally called, because he carries a
druiq, js one of the institutions of
rural France. A traveler in the valley
of the Cele says, in “Wanderings by
Southern Waters,” that he found the
tambourineur making the rounds of a
town, lustily beating his drum to
awaken the curiosity of the inhabitants
and accompanied by an ox, which he
introduced to the public as “le boeuf
ici present.”
The priey’s business is to announce
to all whom it may ooncern that the
animal is to be killed this very even
ing and that to-morrow morning its
flesh will be sold at one franc twenty
five centimes the kilo. It will all go
at a uniform price, for this is the cus
tom. Those who want the aloj-au or
sirloin will only have to be in haste.
The ox, notwithstanding the fact
that he has a rope tied round his nose
and horns and is led by the butcher,
evidently thinks it a great distinction
to be tambourine; his expression indi
cates that this is the proudest day of
his life.
Every time the drum begins to rattle
he flourishes his tail and when each
little ceremony is over he moves to a
fresh place with a jaunty air, as if he
•were aware that all this drumming
and fuss were especially intended for
his entertainment. No condemned
wretch ever made his appearance in
public with a better grace.
A MOB OF HIGH-BRED WOMEN.
Disgraceful Seelies at the queen’s Latest
Receptions
The disgraceful proceedings of a
rude and ill-conducted crowd, mainly
composed of women, assembled at the
queen’s drawing room, which “is held
for tho purpose of enabling women of
accredited positions to pay their re
spects to their sovereign, and present to
her their daughters or other ladies who
have not thus made their formal entry
into society,” is described by the
Ladies’ Pictorial of London. It is rea
sonable to suppose that under such
circumstances the conduct of the wom
en would be beyond reproach, but, on
the contrary, it seems to be somewhat
on the order of the crowd at the races,
and the approach to the throne is con
verted into a scene of confusion and
vulgarity. At the first drawing-room
in May the gorgeously dressed guests
apparently disregarded the fact that
they were there by the queen’s invita
tion, and also the supposition that they
were fit for the honor of reception by
her majesty, and self-repose, good
breeding and the common forms of po
liteness were entirely forgotten in
their desire to be first. These same
women would be shocked at the idea
of mingling with a work-a-day crowd
trying to gain admittance to a public
building, but here the models’ of cour
tesy, dignity and polite education push,
jostle and elbow their way—really
prod and strike each other in their
frenzied eagerness to fight their way
to the front. They lose all regard for
appearances and consideration for
others.
The account further says: “Dia
monds, feathers and flowers strew the
ground of these aristocratic
melees, veils are torn, and refined
features are distorted by heat and
wild exertion. Court officials express
their opinions very hard, but no at
tention is paid to this. The struggle
goes on with tho same desperate fury,
and by the time these grandes dames
appear before the queen they are hag
gard and almost untidy.”
" On former occasions their disorderly
conduct has not come directly to the
queen’s notice, hut finally the scuffling
has reached the royal car, and it is
considered necessary to restrict the
members admitted, in order to protect
the royal family from their subjects,
and avoid the actual presence of a
cordon of police to keep the ladies
from pelting each other with bouquets
and tumbling headlong into the
queen’s presence. So the edict has
gone forth that hereafter there shall
he only a limited number received.
A VANISHED PEOPLE.
Ilow Did They Transport Mammoth Rocks
to Builtl a Mysterious Cavern?
On the shores of Brittany there is a
mysterious relic of forgotten ages
which escapes the notice of most trav
elers, says the Million.
Far out in the Morbihan sea—across
which legend tells us Arthur sailed
with his knights in pursuit of the
dragon—rises a little island. It can
he reached in a boat from the coast
only in a calm sea. A Breton shepherd
has a solitary hut upon it and feeds a
few sheep.
Crossing the grassy slope off which
they browse the traveler finds himself
at the foot of a hill, in the face of
which has been excavated a great tun
nel or cave, floored, walled and roofed
by huge flat rocks.
Some archaeologists say that this
cavern was the work of the worshipers
of the serpent god or Hoa—a race that
has passed into oblivion.
The unlearned traveler knows only
that the mysterious cavern antedates
all history; that the rocks of which it
is built came from the main land, a dis
tance of more than one hundred miles
inland. No rocks like them make any
part of the geological formation of the
island.
Even with our modern engineering
knowledge and machinery it would re
quire vast labor and skill to bring
these enormous blocks of stone and
place them so securely as to defy the
wear and friction of ages.
How were they brought here by men
who had, perhaps, few mechanical ap
pliances—nothing but the strength of
their bodies and their faith in a strange
god?
The race who built the temple are
dust. Even their names ages ago per
ished from the earth. Their religion
is vanished. These stones are the
monuments of their indomitable reso
lution. That defies the flight of years.
LEARNED BY ACCIDENT.
The Art of Lithography First Learned by
a Theater Attache in Munich.
One of the greatest discoveries ever
made was the result of the purest ac
cident. It was in the year 1700. The
citizens of Munich had just witnessed
the first triumphant performance of
Mozart's opera, “Don Juan,” and the
theater was deserted by all save one
man, Alois Sennefelder, who, after
making a round of inspection in the
building,to see that no sparks had ig
nited anything combustible, retired to
his room to stamp the tickets of ad
mission for the day following. When
he entered his apartments he had three
things in his hand —a polished whet
ptone, which he had purchased for
sharpening razors: a ticket stamp, still
moistened with printing ink, and a
check on the treasurer of the theater
for his weekly salary. As he placed
the latter upon the table, a gust of ,
wind swept it high up in his room, and
then deposited it in a basin filled with
wateh Sennefelder dried the wet
paper as well as he could aud then
weighted it down with the whetstone,
upon which he had before carelessly
placed the printing stamp- When he
returned to his room the following
morning he was astonished at seeing
the letters printed with remarkable
accuracy upon the dampened paper. A
thought came to him. He wondered
whether, by some such means, he could
not simplify his work of continually
copying the songs of the chorus. He
went out and purchased a large stone,
commenced making experiments, and,
as we all know, discovered the art of
printing from stone —lithography.
THE BLACK BEETLE.
Hedgehogs Will Sometimes Eat Them-
One Who Would Not.
The odious “black beetle,” which is,
properly speaking', not a beetle at all,
is, like a number of other insect pests, '
not indigenous to England, though it
is now a “resident alien.” The only
use which we ever heard found for
black beetles was to feed the first birds
of Paradise brought to England by
ship from the Malay archipelago. No
four-footed creature that we know will
eat them except the hedgehog, and
cats, which are said to be poisoned by
them. This is hardly strange, for ev
erything which they touch is contami
nated by their repulsive odor. Even
hedgehogs are a failure, though tradi
tion makes them thrive on cockroaches,
says the Spectator.
An early ambition of the present
writer was to live in a house stocked
with black beetles in order to keep a
hedgehog. At last this came about.
The new house swarmed with the in
sects, and we had the luck to find a
hedgehog in a cowshed and brought it
home. It would not uncurl in the
kitchen, so we put it in a dark cup
board, where there were enough of the
creatures to “feed right a great hog,”
as the cook, who was disappointed in
the animal's size, remarked, disparag
ingly. But the hedgehog never un
curled. We looked at him night and
day and found beetles running over
him and speculating where they would
begin to eat him. At last we carried
him to the lawn, where he did move
and walked into the tennis net and
had to be cut out to the great destruc
tion of the meshes. Black-beetle kill
ing is a limited but respectable calling
in London, and a leading member of
the craft sends his card round at inter
vals to owners of the large mansions
in London, to intimate that in his
opinion the time has come when his
services ought to be required in the
houses which he has attended during
many changes of ownership or occupa
tion. One habit of the beetle, if the
observers are correct, itself tends to
their destruction. The eggs are car
ried under the body of the female, and
not dropped at hap-hazard. So that if
the creatures are once exterminated,
their quarters can only be repeopled by
immigrants. On the other hand, it is
asserted that the cockroach “gums” its
eggs in cases to the walls. Which of
the statements is true the writer has
not yet been able to discover.
CHEERFUL LORD NORTH.
His Good Humor Toward His Antagonists
in Parliament—An Irritating Servant.
It is a curious thing that, although
Lord North was not a man of genius
and suffered from many physical de
fects, including extreme near-sighted
ness, he had yet such intellectual
gifts, combined with high character
and unfailing courage, that he was
able to stand firm for years against the
efforts of Fox and Burke, of Dunning,
and Saville and last, but not least, the
younger Pitt, says Temple Bar. His
cheerful temper was never ruffled, and, I
while his opponents lashed themselves I
into frenzy and indignation, he calmly
surveyed them as parliamentary j
curiosities. When he did reply to his I
antagonists it was always with unfail
ing good humor.
On one occasion, for example, when
interposing in a quarrel, he observed
that there was often far too much
readiness to take offense. “That is
not my own ease,” he added. “This
very evening one member who spoke
of me described me as ‘that thing
called a minister.’ Well, to be sure,”
continued Lord North, here patting
his ample sides; “I am an unwieldy
thing; the honorable member, there
fore, when ho called me 'a thing,’ said
what was true, and I could not be
angry with him. But when he added,
‘that thing called a minister,’ he called
me that thing which of all things he
himself wished most to be, and there
fore I took it as a compliment.”
So amiable likewise was Lord North
in private life that his daughter re
corded it as an extraordinary circum
stance that there was only one person
who ever made him angry. This was
one of his servannts, a drunken,
stupid groom, who was distinguished
by the children as “the man that puts
papa in a passion.” Yet this irritating
individual was never dismissed, but
died in the service of his indulgent
master.
As a minister Lord North was con
scientious and upright, but in dealing
with such a formidable crisis as the
American revolt he lacked resolution
and firmness. He also too frequently
yielded his own deliberate judgment
to the persuasion of the king and his
friends. His daughter described his I
weakness as “the want of power to
resist the influence of those he loved.”
Trouble from an Abbreviation.
A New York firm has a house In Vic
toria street, London. Their English
representative, who was paying a visit
to Paris, wrote a lotter to the London
branch and addressed it: “Messrs. So
uud-So, Vie street, London.” The next
day two very important and serious
looking gentlemen visited the London
office of the New York firm, and, show
ing one of the clerks the letter, asked
him if he knew by whom it was writ
ten. “Yes,” replied the clerk, “by our
manager. What’s the matter with it?”
“Your manager has grossly insulted
, her majesty the queen, and must apol
ogize to the postmaster general for
having done so.” “Why, how has ho
insulted the queen?” exclaimed the as- j
tonished clerk. “He has addressed j
this letter to ‘Vic’ street instead of
Victoria street and Victoria is her maj- I
esty’s name.” “But it is a common
thing for us Americans to shorten
names of streets in addressing letters.
For instance, we often write ‘B’way’ !
for Broadway.” “We don't care what j
you do in the United States. You can’t I
do it here, and we must insist upon a |
written apology and assurance that j
her majesty’s name shall pat be ,
mangled again by your manager.”
The apology and assurance were given ! 1
and so the incident ended happily with- ]
1 out bloodshed. ■
NOTICE TO SUBSCRIBERS.
Cast your up and if the
date after vom w>* address is behind
' cep Q1 your subscription
‘ is behind also.
Subscribers who do not receive their
papers regularly will oblige us by re.
porting the omission at once.
► JOB WORK.H
We are prepared to execute in the best style and at
moderate prices, alt kinds of Job Work, such as
NOTE HEADS, BILL HEADS,
STATEMENTS, BUSINESS CARDS
PROGRAMMES, INVITATIONS,
■ CIRCULARS, SALE BILLS,
PAMPHLETS, <kc„ J:
i
Candid.
Doctor—Your wife is in a very crit
ical state, and I should recommend you
to call in some specialist to consult on
the case.
Husband —There, you see, doctor, I
was right again! I told my wife long
ago she ought to get proper medical
advice, but she always thought you
might be offended!— Fliegende Blaet
ter.
In a Bad Fix Kither Way.
“Mr. Uptown’s mother-in-law must
be on a visit at his house,” said a Har
lem tobacconist to Pete Amsterdam,
one of his customers.
“What makes you think so?”
“He bought a dozen of the cheapest
cigars I’ve got. He is either trying to
smoke her out, or else he is running
for office.”—Texas Siftings.
Revolutionary.
She—She seems to dislike that prac
tical, unpretentious cousin of hers.
He —Yes; doesn’t speak to him now.
She—Why?
He—Well, she went to the colonial
ball as her great-great-grandmother,
Lady Dixon, and he went as her great
great-grandfather, the patriot black
smith. —J udge.
A Disappointment.
Jeannette—l'm sorry < I went to the
seashore.
Maude —Why?
Jeannette —I got tanned almost
black.
Maude—Well?
Jeannette—And it all came off com
ing home. —Chicago Record.
An Acknowledgment.
Mrs. Planlcinton—Have you got an
other cook 3 T et?
Mrs. Witherby—No. My husband ia
after one now.
Mrs. Plankinton—This is his first
attempt, is it not?
Mrs. Witherby—No. I was his first.
—Detroit Free Press.
A Double Motive.
“Don’t move, Laura. There’s a mos
quito on your cheek.” (Crushes it.)
“Thank you, George. Y r ou are very,
kind.”
“Kind? Not exactly, dear. The in
sect had aroused my envy.”—Chicago
Tribune.
Convincing.
Miss Upton—Did you tell him that I
was not at home?
New Servant—Yes, mum; but he
didn't seem to believe me, bein’ as I’m
a stranger. Mebby you’d better go
down and tell him yourself, mum.—N.
Y. Weekly.
Making It All Right.
Customer (to head waiter) —Here,
sir, this clumsy fellow has spilled over
half of my cup of tea down my back.
Head Waiter (to clumsy waiter
sternly)—Bring this gentleman a full
cup of tea instantly.—Boston Globe.
Well Cured Tobacco.
A. —May I offer you a oigar?
B. —No, thanks; I very seldom smoke.
A.—Then help yourself; with this
i particular brand you will break off the
habit altogether.—Lustige Blaetter.
Thought So Himself.
The Wife —You are a poor excuse for
a man.
The Husband—l must be, my dear, if
I married you to get a better half.—
Truth.
Vanity.
Among the vain men whom we meet,
The vainest one of all
Is he who boasts of his little feet,
When his head is just as small I
—Puok
A PREFERENCE. jj
Nurse (as she puts Robert to bed)—;
And what would you say if mamma
should have a little baby brother or
sister for you when you wake up in
the morning?
Robert —Tell her I’d rather have a
dog.—Puck.
Interest.
Wool —I have been living for a month,
at a cost of eight cents a day.
Van Pelt —That all it cost you?
Wool—Oh no; I paid twenty dollars
a week; eight cents a day was what it
cost my landlady.—Truth.
The One Thing Needful.
He—Though we are poor, we shall bo
very happy together. “Love in a cot
tage,” you know.
She —Yes; but wc haven't got the cot
tage.—Brooklyn Life.
Caution.
Mrs. Younglove—Shall you expect
me to bak£ my own bread?
Mr. Younglove—Just as you prefer,
dearest; but you needn’t bother about
baking mine! —Puck.
lie Couldn't Say.
He—A fellow kissed a girl on the
street to-day.
She—Was the man crazy?
“I don't know. I didn’t see the girl.”
—Brooklyn Life.
A Sure Sign.
Tillie —Have you heard the news?
Minnie is to be married.
Millie—Are you quite sure?
Tillie —Well, she has stopped chew
ing gum.—Truth.
’Twa. Not for Love Alone.
“And why, Jennie, did you tell Wil*
lie you wouldn’t be his little wife?”
“ 'Tause he didn’t ast’till he knowett
I had ft new sixpence.’’—Tidbit*. , J