The Irish standard., 1886-05-01
TABLE TALK.

We loved the birds and babbling brooke.
John and ], my John.
In meadows and in shady hooks,
Der lake and farm with wondering looks,
We saw what ne'er was told in books,
John and I, my John.
We found maid with golden hair,
All John! my happy John!
The wonders Of the earth and air
Were but reflections made more rare
In her blue eyes and face SO fair,
For John, my happy John.
Lo, birds and books and brooks have fed.
For John, alas poor John.
The night winds come and smite herdead.
Alone in Natures realm tread;
He followed where her footsteps led,
My John, alas my John.
-[William H. Ballou in Home Journal.
This is the neat way in which the Editor
of the Orange City [Fla.) Times gives the
current news, and at the same time
polishes up the subscriber who won't pay
up: s'Lightning struck pine tree just in
the rear Of our Office throwing the bark
and limbs of the tree against the windows
of the office. We saw everything we had
done i'll urlfe, and we saw nothing that
could compare with the meanness of a
dropped delinquent subscriber from the
subscription list Of any newspaper
Things one would have rather LETT un-
said: Little Lucille to her father, al artist
who has just painted his own portrait
ssWhy it looks good deal worse than you
do, papa
The Kingston (N. W Freeman tells a
remarkable clam story: a Rondont man
took home some clans and put them in his
cellar. The next morning he was sur
priscd to find that twelve Of the shells
were empty. He came to the conclusion
that rats had eaten the succulent bivalyes
The Freeman goes On to explain how the
rats got the CLAIMS out of the Shells the
explanation being based on the knowledge
of /, man who has made study OF the
habits OF rats. The rodents waited
patiently until .5he CLANS opened their
mouths. When this occurred. the rats
inserted their laws between the shells,
and drew out the lips Of the clam These
they held until the clam died, when the dis
position of the remains WAS an easy
matter.
A notable casc-or group Of cases--of
longevity is remarked in Cornwall. Eng
land. On October 49, 171s, stephen
Hickes was appointed to he rector Of Bills
land He was succeeded in April. 1880, by
William Pye, and he in turn gave place in
February, 1894, to Francis Woolcock Pye,
who is the present incumbent. Only
three rectors in l67 years is /. remarkable
record.
In pgeoI,-hole in the Atlanta Constitu-
ton office is y neat envelope, well filled
and well sealed. 1t is the obituary of ~
prominent citizen OF Atlanta, written 10y
himself. Re ct:rtities on the envelope, in
q firm hand that the inclosetl is exactly
what he wishes printed about himself
whe12 he is dead The Constitution pays
this eloquent tribute to the auther: May
the ink fade and the envelope take on the
hue of parchment before its seal is broken,
for it holds the life of guileless and honest
man.
Colonel Yerger, accompanied by his
little son, went ont one day for walk.
Colonel Yerger had forgotten to take his
watch with him. Being (esirous Of know
ing what time it WAS he told Johnny to
ask a young man close by what O'Clock it
was. The young man happened to be q
student of the University of Texas. He
replied to the inquiry of Johnny: s.Tell
your pa don't know what O'Clock it is. I
too have been obliged TO soak my watch.''
From time to time the suggestion is
made that the whipping-post would be q
good thing for certain offenders The
latest remark to this effect comes from a
Brooklyn justice who, when a man was
brought before him for beating his foster
mother, heartily regretted that he could
not punish him with twenty-five lashes as
we'll as eight months imprisonment. It
certainly seems that the lash would be
none too severe for men who beat their
mothers or their wives
Mr. Robert Garrett is an entertaining
ard vivacious talker and has a charming
address. He has his fathers strong traits.
and is more daring is his financial opera
tions than the elder Garrett was. .'The
dramatic incident of my life,'' said he,
t.was the sudden death of Vanderbilt in
my presence. / shall never forget it, 1t
came like fearful dream, and so swift
was the change from life to death that it
could scarcely be realized"
A mathematician is absorbed in a
calculation. He hears noise
|'N nat Go you Haut! He says, iScoBA4z-
ing his baby
uPapa, [ want to say Good-night.'
II haven't time now; say it tomorrow
morning.
The graceful, kindly poem which Oliver
Wendell Holmes wrote for Mark Twains
semi-centennial like everything else from
the beloved Doctors pen, has been
widely published. 1t is a compliment of
which any American-or any other man
might we'll be proud; and if the lines are
adjuiged to be less piqnant or pnngent
than those with which the Doctor has been
wont to embelish such occaGsi,5ns they GER
tainly glow with unstinted heartiness OF
feeling:
All, Clemens, when saw thee last
We both Of us were younger
How fondly mumbling DER the past
Is memory's toothless hunger
So fifty years have fled, they say,
Since first you took. to drinking
mean in natures milky way
OF course no ill I'm thinking.
But while on lifes uneven road
Your track you've been pursuing,
What fountains from your wit have flowed
What drinks you have been brewing!
know whence all your magic came
Your secret I've discovered
The source that fed your Inward fame
The dreams that round you lowered: