Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 9 September 1886 — Page 12

Page PDF (10.83 MB)

Back to issue view

f*5*^7^'-7"Trr

pf#

~~y

*j I

*~. ,..

'LIFE OR DEATH.

t»f_

J5F THE LATE HUGH CONW.^ ,'

In a minute or two young Leigh returned. He had found time not only to wash the rich red clay from his long, well-shaped fingers, but to slip on his coat and generally beautify limself. His improved appearance had a great effect upon the child, who, like most of her age, was influenced by exteriors.

So Miss Herbart, this little great lady, unbent, and allowed "Jerry" to lead her jound the old-fashioned garden, to the outhouses and pigstyes, where thdobese pigs lay •oblivious-of what fa had in store, for them to the dairy, where she condescended to drink a glass of new milk, and by the time they had returned to the garden the two were as good friends as their different stations in life would permit. Young Leigh, •who saw in this dainty little maid the incarnation of fairies, nymphs, goddenas and other ideals which, in a dim way, were forming themselves in his brain, endeavored, after his first shyness bad passed away, to show her what beautiful shapes and forms couli be found in flower, leaf and tree, and other things in nature. FM« talk, infiaari •oared far above her pretty little head, and -when they returned to the garden he was trying to make her see that those

"You area very, very funny

The boy laughed merrily. Mr. Herbert's approbation sat newly upon him, and he ,.was only talking to a child—so he said. "I hope to be worthy and respectable, bufc much greater man than a farmer." "Oh! How great!—as great as papa?" 5 "Yes, I hope so." "That's absurd, you know," said

.**, JL*n ti^, .. *Lr-stZttHiHi..~ 43*'"'L '''&$} '.

lit

LdufAor o/ "Called Back" "Dark Days A Family Affair," Eto.

in spite of the great gull Between her and the clay-bespattered boy in his shirt sleeves the little princess jpas too glad of a change of scene to wish to disobey her father. She followed her conductor to the back of the house and the boy and girl stepped out into the autumnal sunshine.

The little maid looked so trim pad dainty in her neat riding habit, coquettish hat and tiny gloves, that his own draggled appearance struck the boy forcibly. "If you will excuse me a minute," he *'I will run and wash my hands.1' "Ye3. I think it will be better," mij Mi«f Herbert, with dignity.

white clouds low down in the distance were two bodies of warriors about to meet in deadly fray.

txy,w

laud

Miss Herbert, with such an air of conviction that he was startled into silence. "Your name is Jerry, isn't it?" she continued. "Jerry's an ugly name." "My name is Gerald—Gerald Leigh." "Oh—Gerald.?' Even this child could see the impropriety of a tenant farmer having a eon named Gerald. No wonder Abraham Leigh addressed his boy as Jerry. *1)0 yon like being a farmer?" she asked. "1 am not going to be a farmer—I don't like it.*

What a pity. Farmers aft fetich a worthy, respectable class of man." said the girl, using a stock pbrase she had caught up somewhere.

Miss

Herbert, with all the outraged family pride that thirteen years can feel, and, turning Away, she switched at the flowers with her riding whip.

However, a few words from Gerald made them friends once more, and she expressed her pleasure that he should pick her one of the few roses which remained in the garden.

Roses are common," said the boy. ••JSvenv one gives roses. I will give you .-something prettier."

He went to the sunny side of the house and soon returned with half dozen pale lavender stars in his hands. They wert blossoms of a Aew sort of late clematis, which some one's gardener had given Abraham Leigh. Gerald's deft fingers arrangBd them into a most artistic bouquet, the appearance of which was entirely spoiled by Miss Herbert's insistence that two or three roses should be added. The bouquet was jost finished and presented when Mr. Herbert, followed by the farmer, appeared.

Although he raid nothing more to young Leigh on the subject which was uppermost In the boy's mind, the kindly encouraging look he gave him raised the wildest hopes in his heart. Mr. Herbert bade the father and aon a pleasant good dav and rode off with his little daughter.

Miss Herbert carried the btmch of clematis for about two miles, then, finding it rather incumbered her, tossed it over a hedge.

Gerald Leigh went back to his attic and commenced about half a dozen clay sketches fit the prettiest object which as yet had crossed his path. For several days he was

Gerald Leigh went back to hisattiOi en thorns to hear what fate had store

for him, but Fate, personified by his father, made aio sign, but went about his work .stolid and Sphinx-like. Mr. Herbert, Ger^ald learned, had gone to London for a few days.

However, before a fortnight had gone by, Abraham jLeigh .received a letter from his landlord, ana

ibe

same evening, while

smoking this pipe in the kitchen, informed liia son aad his sister that to-morrow he waa going Into 'Gloucestershire to see if his brother Josapb could spare him one of his many boys to take Jerry's placet Jerry was to go to London the next day and meet Mr. Herbert Most likely he'd stay there. *Twas clear as noontide the boy would never make a fataner, aud if there were fools enough in the world to buy white figures at hundreds, ef pounds apiece, Jerry might as well try to make his living that way as any other.

The truth is, Mr. Herbert told Abraham I^igh that if he would &ot consent to pay lor nis son's art education, he, Mr. Herbert, would bear the expense himself. But the monetary part of it troubled the substantial Jarmer little. He could pay for his child's keeping if he could bring his mind to con-1 •ent to his going. And now the consent I •mas given, I

i&iSI

cJerald heard his father's communioationf with glowing eyes. For shame's sake He hid his joy, for he knew that, with all his stolid demeanor, his father almost broke down as he contemplated the diverging paths his son ahd he must henceforward tread. The boy th&nked him from his heart, and the rough farmer, laying his hand on the child's head, biassed him and bade him go and prosper.

In this way Gerald Leigh left CoombeActor. At long intervals he reappeared- for a few days. The worthy villagers eyed him askance, the only conception they could form of his profession being connected with dark-skinned itinerants who bore double tiered platforms on their heads, and earned a precarious livelihood by traversing the country selling conventional representatives of,angel3 and busts of eminent man. (.:• i*j-

CHAPTER H.

OtMen.tfi'

Soma' seven years after the iinbittoos boy left jCoombe-Acton, honest farmer Abraham, just when the old-fashioned hawthorne hedges were in whitest bloom, sickened, turned his stolid, face to the wall and died. Gerald had been summoned, but arrived too late to see his father alive. Perhaps it was as well It should be so the farmer's ltat moments being troubled ones, and full of regret that Watercress Farm would no longer know a Leigh. The nephew who had taken Gerald's place had turned out an utter failure so much so that Abraham Leigh had roundly declared he would be bothered with no more boys, and for the last few years had managed his business single handed. However, although Gerald's upheaval of family traditions made the farmer's deathbed unhappy,. he showed that his son had not forfeited his love. All he possessed, some three thousand pounds, was left to him. Mr. Herbert took the lease of the farm off the young man's hands by and bye the live and dead stock were sold off, and Watercress Farm..was waiting for another tenant.

The winding up of his father's affairs kept Gerald in the neighborhood.for some weeks, and when it became known that Mr. Herbert had insisted upon his taking up his quarters at the hall, the simple CoombeActon folks were stricken with a great wonder. Knowing nothing of what is called the "aristocracy of art,11 their minds were much exercised by such an unheard-of proceeding. What had "Jerry" Leigh been doing in the last seven years to merit such a distinction?

Nothing his agricultural friends could have understood. After picking up the rudiments of his art in a well-known sculptor's studio, young L?igh had been sent to study in the schools at Paris. Mr. Herbert told him that, so far as his art was ooncerned, Paris was the workshop of the world—Rome its bax&c and show room. So

He is now a man—a singularly hand bum* man. If not so tall as his youth promised, he is well built, and graceful Artist is stamped all over him. Brow, eyes, even the slender, well-shaped hands proclaim it. The general expression of his faco is one of calm and repose, yet an acute observer might assert that, when the moment came that face might depict passions stronger than those which sway most msn.

His hair and eyes, and something in the style of his dress gave him a'look not quite that of an Englishman—a look that terribly vexed poor Abraham Leigh on those rare occasions when his erratic boy paid him a visit but nevertheless, it is a look not out of place on a young artist.

This is the kind of man Gerald .Leigh has grown into, and while bis transformation has been in progress MisS Eugenia Herbert has become a woman.

Although remembering every feature^ of the child, who seemed in some way associated with the day of his liberation, Gerald had not again seen hek- until his father's death called him back to .England. Each time he had visited Coombe- Acton he bad, of course, reported progress to Mr. Herbert but, shortly after the change in his life, Mi? Herbert, by a great effort of self-denial, had sent his darling away to school, .and at school she had always bean when Gerald callad at the hall But now, when hfe accepted Mr. Herbert's hospitality, he found the fairylike child grown, it seemed to him, into his ideal woman and found, moreover, that there was a passion so intense that even the love of art must pale be*fore it.

He made no attempt to resist it He let it master him, overwhelm him, sweep him along. Ere a week had gone by, not only by looks but also in burning words, he had told Eugenia he loved her. And how did he fare?

His very atidacity and disregard of everything, save that he loved the girl, succeeded to a marvel Eugenia had already met with many admirers, but not one like this. Suoh passionate pleading, such fiery love, such vivid eloquence were strange and new to her. There was an originality, a freshness, a thoroughness in the love he offered her. His very unreasonableness affected her reason. All the wealth of bis imagination, all the crystalications of his poetical dreams, he threw into his passion. His ecstacy whirled the girl from her mental feet, his warmth created an answering warmth, his reckless pleading conquered. She forgot obstacles as his eloquence overleapt them, she forgot social distinctions as his great dark eyes looked into hers, and at last she confessed she loved him.

Then Gerald Leigh came down from the clouds and realized what he had done, and as soon as he touched the earth and became reasonable Eugenia fancied she did not care for him quite so much.

His -conscience smote him. Not only must Jttr. Herbert be reckoned with, but a terrible interval must elapse before he had fame and fortune to lay before Eugenia. He could scarcely expect her to leave her luxurious home in order to live au quatrieme or an cinquieme hi Paris, while be completed his studies. He grew sad and downcast as he thought of these things, and Eugenia, wh# liked pleasant bright, well-to-do people, felt le?s kindly Ifcpoeed toward him, and showed she did so.

Mm-

'. /V T« »t

wi,'W«kv^4'- T.'.? -i

This made mm reckless again. He threw the future to the winds, recommenced his passionate wooing, recovered his lost ground and gained, perhaps, a little more.

But Abraham Leigh's affairs were settled up, and Gerald knew he must teai himself from Acton Hall and go back to work. He had lingered a few days to finish a bu%t of Mr. Herbert This done, be bad no excuse for staying longer.

The summer twilight deepened into night The sculptor and Miss Herbert stood upon the broad and graveled terrace walk that runs along the stately front of Acton HalL They leahed upon the gray stone balustrade the girl, with musing eyes, was looking down on shadowy lawn and flower bed underneath the young man looked at her, and her alone. Silence reigned long between them, but at last she spoke: "Yonreally go to-morrow?'' •, '...

She. did not urge him. She was silent He drew very near to her. "Eugenia," he whispered, "you love me?'

to Paris ths boy went. He studied hard and lived frugally. He won* certain prises medals, and was now looking forward to the time when he must strike boldly for fame. Even now hj was not quite unknown. A couple of modest but very beautiful studies in low relief had appeared in last year's exhibition, and, if overlooked by the majority, had attracted the notice of a few, whose praise was well worth(winning. He was quite satisfied with the result of hia first attempt. In all tilings that concerned ln& art ho w&3 wise and patient. No sooner Lnd he placed his foot oq

II think so." Her eyes were still lookspoke certain. "You-think sol Listen! Before we part let me tell vou what your love means to me. If, when first I asked for it you had scorned me, I could have left you, unhappy, but still a man. Now, it means life or death to me. There is no middle course—no question of joy or misery—simply life or death I Eugenia, lqok at me and say you love mel"'

J. VICAUAi OV, AAvl OJ U3 nv«U

ing over the darkening warden. She sj dreamily, and as one who is not quite

'-Ji. "i

\fl

fefse*».

xllxGBrsr&t-S*

V?ven

the

lowest step of

C33 ladder, tban hfe realized the atriounc of work to be done—the technical skill to be acquired before he could call himself a sculptors Even now, after seven years' study and labor, he had self-denial enough to resolve upon being a pupil for three years longer before he made his great effort to place himself by the side of contemporary sculptors. Passionat3 and impulsive as was his tine nature, he could follow and woo Art with that calm persistency and method which seems to be the surest way of winning her smile?.

Eugenut, look at me and say you love )f.»i cfat me!" (.» «c -"k 1 fv „-f!

His dark eyes charmed and compelled her. "Hove you! Ilovt youP' she murmured. Her words satisfied him moreover, she let tiie hand he grasped remain in his, perhaps

returning th-j pressure of his own. So thoy Stood tor more than an hour, while Gerald talked of the future find the fame he meant to win—talked as one who has the fulles confidence in his own powers and di recting genius.

Presently they saw Mr. Herbert walking through the twilight towards them. Gerald's hand tightened on the girl's BO as to cause her positive pain. "Remember," he whispered. "Life or death! Think of it while we are apart Your love means a man's life or-death!"

Many a lover has said an equally extravagant thing, but Eugenia Herbert knew that his words were not those of poetical imagery, and as she ^entered tbe house she trembled at the passion she had aroused What if timo and opposition should work a change in her feelings! She tried to reassure herself by thinking that if she did not love him in the same blind, reckless way, at any rate she would never meet another man whom she could love as she loved Gerald Leigh.

The sculptor went back to Paris—te bis art and his dreams of love and fame. Two years slipped by without any event of serious import happening to the persons about whom we are concerned. Then came a great change.

Mr. Herbert died so suddenly that neither doctor nor lawyer could be summoned in time, either to aid him to live or to carry out his last wishes. His will gave Eugenia £2,000 and ah estate he owned in Gloucestarehire^everything_els» to his son. Unxortunately, some six months before he naa sold the Gloucestershire property, and, with culpable negligence, had not made a fresh will. Therefore, the small money bequest was all that his daughter could claim. However, this seemed of little moment, as her brother at once announced his intention of settling upon her the amount to which she was equitably entitled. He had given his solicitors instructions to prepare the deed.

James Herbert, Eugenia's brother, qja^ unmarried, and at present had no intention of settling down to the life of a country gentleman. Six weeks after Mr. Herbert's death the greater number of the servants were paid off, and Acton Hall was practically shut up. Eugdhia, after spending some weeks with friends in tbe north of England, came to London to live for an indefinite time withlier mother's sister, a Mrs. Cathcart.

Since her fathers death. Gerald Leigh had written to her several times—letters full of passionate love, and panned as if tbe writer felt sure of her constancy and wish to keep her promise. He, too, was coming to London. Had she wished it, he would at once have come to her side but, as it. was, he would take up his quarters in town about the same time Eugenia arrived there.

The hour .was at hand—the hour to which Miss Herbert had for two years looked forward with strangely mingled feelings— when her friends must be told that sha intended to marry the young, and as yet unknown, sculptor, Gerald Leigh, the son of her father's late tenant farmer, Abraham.

She loved him still. She felt sure of that much. If time and absence bad somewhat weakened the spall he had thrown over her proud nature, she knew that, unless the man was greatly changed, the magic of his words and looks would sway her as irresistibly as before. She loved him, yet rebelled against her fate.

Her father had died ignorant of what had passed between his daughter and the young artist Many a time Eugenia had tried to bring herself to confess the truth to him. She now regretted she had not done so. Mr. Herbert's approval, or disapproval, would have been at least a staff by which to guide her steps. He had suspected nothing. The few letters which passed between the lovers had been unnoticed. Their love was, as yet, a secret known only to themselves.

She loved him, but why had he dared to make her love him? Or, why was he not well-born and wealthy? Could she flnH strength to faee, for his sake, the scorn at her friends?

She must decide at once. She is sitting and thinking all these things in her own room at Mrs. Cathcartfs, and in front of her

lies a letter in

which

S., ,"V TH* -ft

THE TERRE HAUTE WEEKLY GAZETTE:

"Tell me to stay, aud I will stay," he said, passionately "but next weak—next month—next year, the moment when it does come, will be just as bitter."

8be knows Chat It she receives mm she will be bound tq,, proclaim, herself his affianced wifa

He called. She saw him. Mrs. Cathcart was out, so Eugenia was alone when the servant announced Mr. Leigh. She started and turned pale. She trembled in every limb as he crossed the room to where she stood. He took her hand and looked into her face. He spoke, and his rich, musical voice thrilled her. "Eugenia—is it Kfe or d3atlif'

tii

She could not answer. She could not turn her eyes from his. She saw the intensity of their expression deep an, saw a fierce, yearning look oome into them, a look whinh startled hsr. v, "Is it life or death?" he repeated. Iw"

His love conquered. "Gerald, it is life," she said. Drunk with jay, be threw his arms around her and kissed her until' the blushe? dyed her cheeks. He stayed with her as long as she would allow, but his delight was too delicious to permit him to say much about his piaos for the future. When, at last, she madeihim leave her, he gave her the number of a studio at Chelsea, which he had taken, and she promised to write and let him know when he might call again.

They parted. Eugenia walked to the windo wand for along time looked out on the gay thoroughfare, now full of carriages going to and returning from the park. Of course, she loved Gerald dearly—that was now beyond a doubt. But what would she have to go through when the engagement was announced—what had she to look forward to as his wife? Must love and worldly misery be synonymous {T$ to CbntfaMt) i»M ±*1 •ksii ••*&"•% S id VMt

Prince Alexander of Bulgaria*

All Europe woke up one fine morning recently and were dumbfounded at tho news that Alexander, the apparently popular governor, whom the great powers had appointed over Bulgaria, had been hustled from hiB throne. It occurred so unexpectedly that it required days before the perpetrators of the deed could be determined. They were instigated by some government, undoubtedly, but this is not so easy to locate. The wiley Muscovite publishes' an oily statement denying the charge that they had anything to do with it. It is a question that may remain as far from a solution as the one in regard to the party who assaulted "Billy Patterson. 'V ,1) -ssM

PRINCE ALEXANDER.

The sympathies of the outside world will naturally bo with the unfortunate prince and against his enemies, because bo is so handsome for one thing. If he doesnt got his princedom securely back again and retain it he ought to, simply because ho looks so much the prince. He is a brother of that (Herman Henry of Battenbcrg who married Queen Victoria's daughter Beatrice.* European nations naturally wondered what England was going to do about it, and English papers hastened to assure the world that England was going to do—nothing.

Russia is believed to have been at thfe bottom of the plot to depose him. It was a thoroughly Russian trick, that of surrounding him entirely with conspirators, then waking him from sleep, telling him he was deposed and marching him over the border.

However, there came in an element which Russia had not counted on. Next day. his people rose in a rage and declared they would not have it, that Alexander was the prince of Iheir choice and they would have him back. It seems to be the first time in the history of those regions that the people have had anything to say about anything.

FOR THE ONTARIO LEGISLATURE.

The Xcw Parliament Buildings to 1 Erected In Toronto, Canada*'

THE

intenfctoo cf calling uoon her to-morrow. Mnfc.

-_ 4

-'i "'•'i'.

.-i®4

'H'fc js'*

NEW ONTARIO PROVINCIAL BUILDINGS.

The new Ontario legislative and departmental buildings to be erected in the Queen's park, Toronto, Canada, will be in what is known as open court shape, will have a frontage of 406 feet, tbe total depth of each wing being 24-1 feet The size of the legislative chamber, situated in the center of the structure, will be 65 by 85 feet The main building will bo approached by terraced steps 65 feet in length to a stone porch, treated in a series of arches supported upon connected finlnmnB with molded bases and carved capitals, rockets and enriched arch molds. Ascending a grand vestibule, 29 feet in width, t^e vestibule hall of spacious proportions is r&ched. The grand staircase hall is 50 feet wide by 63 feet deep. The grand staircase, to be constructed of stone, the main flight being 22 feet in width, and having two side flights, will ascend to the legislative chamber on the first floor. On the left of the grand staircase hall will be an alcove to a postoffice distributing room, and on the right a corresponding alcove to passenger elevators with a corridor connecting with aroaded and glazed corridors on the right and left These latter oorridors will bo 34 by 88 feet, with cntr&noes to apartments on either side, and also connecting with side corridors and approaches to the building. There will be four elevators altogether in the building, two in the center and one in each wing. A number of vaults will also be built in a series of stacks so arranged as to provide each department on the different floors with ample fire proof vault accommodation. All the departments are disposed so as implicitly to meet with their requirements and be readily found.

Tbe whole will

posseeB

Gerald announces his w£U equal any public building on tbe cantt-

heating and sanitary

Arrangements aa well at fire precautions that

at**-

.Mi

f»*

£i^

DER DEUTCHER'S MAXIM*,

Dbere vas vot you call a maxim Dot I hear der oder day, Und I wride id in mine album,

So id don'd could got avay Und I dells r~inj» lc»dle Yawcob He mousi mind vat he's aboudt:

Tta too late to lock der ah table Vhen der horse he vas gone oudt*

Then I see ubon der oorners Off der Shtreets, raosit efry night, Der loafers und der hoodlums, f*

Who do nix but shvear und fight, 1 says to mine Katrina: «.*.»• "Let us make home bright und gay Ve had petter lock der sht&bJo,

So our colts don'd got avay."

Vhen you 6eedhoee teedle urchins, Not mooch ofer knee-high tall, Shuinp righdt lndo dor melon patch,

Shust owf der garden vail, at a ii as el Vhen he cooms back wit hees "boodle/' Look oudt und lock your shtable,

So your own nag don'd nhkydoodle I

Vhen der young man at der counter Vants tojshpecgulate in shtocks, Und buys hees girl some timond ringi

Und piles righdt oup der rocks, Look oudt for dot young feller Id vas safe emifif to Say Dot der shtable id vas empty,

LYRICS OF BOSTON CULTURE.

A husband once seized a large knife And attempted to carve up his kwife,-rfi •"iSG'jBut the neighbors ran in, -'C.i »«In the midst of the din, /And succeeded in saving 1ier klife,

'A maid, with expression benign,j Whose dresses were costly and flgn, Wa» wooed by a youth, /.

Kit she doubted his truth,

^,ff?And to give him her hand did declign, A maiden was scared by a gnome, As she climbed up the stairs to the gdome

rOf

the state house one day

•. For a view of the bay, ,)Ancl she uttered a shriek and ran ghome.

THE DIFFERENCE.

.» f. -.r i- ..i

*•£0^ i-A 2 J^_

fit

Und der horsa vas gone avay,,

Dhen dake Time by der fetlock

1^*

Don'd hurry dipo life's courses Bememper rat der poet flays, '•/,, "Life's but a shpan"—off horses*

*.ti

Der poy he vas der comin" man ,.' 'J" Be careful vhile you may •!,.«. •JSj'i Shust keep der shtable bolted,

Und der horse dou'd got avay."" -Charles Follen Adams in Harper's Monthly,

THE BOARDER'S PUN-ISHMENT.

The boarders at breakfast were jolly, alas gyg* Said Jones, "you had better the.oleo pass," Then funny Smith crited, "I'm bash aimed of you,

Jones,

For getting up plate—do tripe picking these bones."

woke cup and saucer the sun beef fore you," Jones grinned, "an egg samp-le you water pursue,"

"And then took a napkin, you pas3 me a leek!" Brown shouted a-laying in food for a week.

"How can knife fork get chew," smiled Green to Miss White, "This liver of liver you'll find Is just right." "Well, I mustard mit, sir, you're very well bread," "And that's why you cut him so often," Snooks said. "Lettuce mocha segar," Jenkins tried filling up, When the landlady jcaught him, with glucose his cup. "0, what a mis steak," snapped out Podgers, "he means A pipe, as for mocha—he doesn't, know beans."

The landlady's turn came as sharp ara sword, "Now stop all this nonsense—you see I ham board. And for your bad puns I will pun-ish you, so You'll get no more food till all pay what tney owe." —H. C. Dodge in Detroit Free Press.

Pray Cholly dear, she laughing said* The difference tell to me, 'Tween capital and labor, sob -1»

»4

That I may clearly see. He sat the maiden on his knee, And stroked her pretty head: Now this Is capital, my dear,

The laughing lover said. The gentle maiden gravely said, Oh, yes, my dear, I see 'Tis capital until we've wed,

And then "'twill labor be.

—Boston Courier.

JSTo Practicing Around Here*

Influential Citizen—So yer thinkin' uv locating hyur, air ye!" Young Physician—Well, yes, I had thought some of practicing here.

Influential Citizen—Practicing Look hyur, young man, thar's a good openin' hyur fur a doctor ez un'erstau's his biz, but we don't want no practicin' docterin's what we want. Harper's Bazar.

A COOLER.

He wet a great big cabbage leaf, And put it in his hat. He wore tbe thinnest seersuckers,

White necktie, and all that.

He lived on sherbert and ice cream, And on a cake of ice '. Hfe slept, at night, but did not find

It much like paradise.

In short, he did most everything, This poor, deluded fool. And racked his brain for novel schemes—

Still, be could not keep cool.

But one day on the street he met A girl he'd never seen 1 Her face was angel fair, but proud

And haughty was her mien.

Then in his simple, New York way, He murmured: "Ain't it hot?"— Tbe Boston maid just looked at him

And froze him on the spot. —Somerville Journal.

A BUTCHER'S OBITUARY. I shall meat you in the sweet buy and buy, In the land where no slaughter is rife. ^, •••. A butcher you see in his turn has to die

When death comes along with a knife,

I meet you in the land of the shade, Where man for his sins must atone. You for the bills you have left unpaid,

And I for the excess ef bone. —Detroit Free Press.

3S$' 5%'

The little Folic*.

"Why, Mattde, you have put your shoes on? the wrong feetl" "What'll I do, mammaFl f/k they're all the feet I*v* got"—St LouiarT\, 4/*! Globe-Democrat "S?

A teacher, in catechising ter class of boy»*. at Sunday school, asked, "Who was thet strongest manf" A little ctr»p of eight years

answered, without a moment's hesitation:•"Sullivan. Now ask me who is the best rower."—Harper's Monthly.

A* AVERAGE 8CHOOL COMPOSITION.

A schoolma'am at the Chose house has the following juvenile composition among

I' ,1 si Where the Buttons Game From. 4 i.

The minister's wife sat on the front porch mending the clothes of onoof her numerous progeny. A neighbor passing that way stopped in for a friendly chat A large work basket half full of buttons sat on the floor of tbe porch. After various remarks of a gossipy nature tho visitor said: "You seem to be well supplied with buttons, Mrs. Goodman." '.•« •'Yes, very well, indeed." "My gracious! if there ain't two of the same buttons that my husband had on his last winter suit I'd know 'em anywhere." "Indeed?" Said tbe minister's wife, calmly, •I'm surprised to hear it, as all these buttons were found in the contribution box. I thought I might as well put them to scan© use, so I— what, must you go! Well, be sure and call again soon."—Merchant Traveler.

The Social Favorite.

Yes, he has a massive forehead ancfa manner debonnaire, and his lips eoem framed to utter little trifles light as air. He's an artist without question, and is bound Jto make his mark in whatever line he chooses his fine talents to embark he has such command of language, and his smile so very sweet every damozel entrances, who declare it is a treat to keep still and simply listen to wbate'er he has to say when discussing any topic, whether grave it is or gay. What's his name and his profession! To what tastes does he incline? Well, he's chiefly known, my lady, as the "slugger of the nine. "—Life.

Col. Bowser met Jenks the other day, and asked him what he was doing for a living. "Selling a deodorizing powder." "Last time I saw you you were selling an insect killer to be sprinkled on the floors." "I know now I'm going around to the same houses selling this disinfectant to get the smell of the insect powder out of the bouse. Next week 111 loom up with a mixture to drive away the smell of the disinfectant"—St. Louis Whip. 1' The Ready Answer Turneth Away Wrath.

j: s?

hetf'

schoolhouse manuscript: "A codfish is the only Annymal that ain't got no neck. There .ain't but one kind of a fish in the world that lives on the land and Flys round in the air, and that is a fish bawk. A codfish has a large mouth, and my sunday school Teechers got a large mouth toe. Two kids got fiteing in the vestry one day and one of em pulled quite a lot of Hare out of the other kids Hed and tbe Superingtending pounded one of his Eers with a book and so they quit. A fish would look funny if they had legs and could run.", —Squirrel Island (Mass.) Squid.

'-Pwf

Proprietor—So you're the young fellow that robs my orchard? Innocence—I ain't been a-robbin' no one.

Proprietor— What makes your pockets bulge so? Innocencfe—It's the'the pants is cut.— The Judge.

He Wan .Still Dead.

A good story is told of one of our local politicians who was canvassing for the nomination for a county office. One afternoon he attended a gathering in an out township, and meeting an intelligent-looking young man who he thought might avo some influence, walked up to him and shook him warmly by the hand, inquiring: "How is your fatherf The y. m. answered: "My father has been dead three years." "Indeed," replied the candidate, "I had not heard of it. I knew him intimately. He was one of my best friends, and I regret to hear it. He was one of the best and purest men I ever knew. You have my sympathy," etc. The same evening he met the same person in a village near by, and having forgotten his face, accosted him the second time with the interrogatory, "How is your father?" The young man looked at him for a moment and said: "He is still dead," and walked off.—Minneapolis Times. ..

Carter Harrison Unadorned.*

The most conspicuous guest at the Ocean View is Carter .Harrison, mayor of Chicago. He loves Block Island because it is such a grand place for mental vacuity. Now that the cable is broken, the place is as much out of world to the man of affairs as though he were on board a bark beating around Cape Horn. Mr. Harrison is excessively fond of sea batfiing. He may be seen at the Crescent beach every fine morning at 11 o'clock. This careful sketch of him will afford the reader a very fair idea of how Chicago's mayor looks when engaged in touing up his system. His h»thing suit has shrunk sinoe last season, and his adipose tissue has increased somewhat He appears to good advantage when in the water teaching the ladies of his party the science of natation, but when perambulating the beach in his abbreviated costume he is the most preposterous looking old pachydactylous member of the amphibia seen in these parts since the wrecking of the Palatine.—New York World. .••.i.-.w

BROADSIDE VIEW.

Western Farmer—I always ask a' man be. fore employin' him if he's ever been discharged anywhar. Stranger—Wal, yis, wance. W. F.—That'll hardly do. W hare's you discharged? Stranger—From the arrmy, sor, after the warr was over. —Life.