The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1888-08-29

49, -
for rain.
Robby Huntington threshed Zoo
bushels Of grain in one day
Mrs. John Page of Breedsyille, re-
Gently made a visit 10 her many friends
in the Lee district.
We have oat crops that turn out fifty
five bushels To the acre; sleek horses
will soon be in order
Miss Gussie Giflin has returned to
her Celeryyille home. O. A., the legal
gentleman can make a note of this
Peaches are plenty in and about
Lawton. We hardly think they will
bring as great price as in former
years.
Ii has been reported 10 Us that Judge
Hilton, Bangs Warner and Chappell,
the ieweler, will put no more jewels i'm
Kansas City real estate.
Mrs. Ambrose Orr of Iowa, formerly
of this place, writes that she and her
daughter will land here on visit about
the 10th of next month.
Page Emery has lost his Jersey bull
1t died from paralysis. 1t was one of
the finest animals of the kind in the
state and is quite a loss to Page.
Sam Orr has been suffering so badly
with "Job's comforter that he has
been unable to attend church or to en-
terrain his friends with any degree of
satisfaction.
James Rowley, Fred Hope and Albert
Nash can draw more oats out of the
field i'm one day than any other three
men in town. If you doubt it, ask IL.
X. Halsted how it is done.
While threshing for Thos. Graham,
one of Walter Buskirk's best horses got
loose and got to bin of rye, overloaded
his digestive apparatus and, shortly
afterward, climbed the golden stair.
All creation is invited to the South
Haven fair. We see no reason why
that place should not have good fair
and shall lend them the aid and COM
fort of our presence, if nothing more.
John Beam reports the sale of "Stem
Winder" to Lawrence parties. We
congratulate the purchasers, but don't
see how John came to part with so val
liable an animal. Big money can pro-
badly tell the tale.
Ira Flanders recently returned from
an extended visit to Chicago and other
places and was very happy. Shortly
afterward, he lost his only horse and
was unhappy. Remember, Ira, that
roses and thorns grow upon the same
bush.
Madam Rumor says that golden
Californian is about to capture one of
our handsome war widows. We would
advise her to be cautious how she aban-
dons twelve dollars a month for mas
culine mortal; good many of them
are neither all wool nor yard wide.
Jim Lane, the trotter, has been out
west all summer, making race nearly
every week. The other day, he packed
his grip and went to Hartford, Conn,
to try some of the eastern flyers a
whirl. Jim has been in ten races and
dropped behind the money but once.
DR.. Reed, who took up his residence
in Lawton last spring, tells us he is
doing good business in his profession.
The doctor is quite a politician and
telling speech that will be long remem-
bered by the democrats of that locality.
1t is reported that certain young
lady, pretty and smiling, preached the
subject of marriage to George, our
handsome hardware merchant, not
long since. We don't know just how
the leap year affair resulted, but George
is on the shady side of thirty and we
don't wonder she wanted to save him.
George Galligan has abandoned the
idea of becoming a professional ball
player. He recently played game at
East Decatur, got beat, came home
with one finger knocked out of joint,
nose knocked two inches to one side of
the median line, one of his ribs detached
from the spinal column and in gener-
ally demoralized condition. He has
concluded that the business don't pay.
We have about three acres of onions,
and some people have acquired a habit
of going into the patch and carrying
them away by armfuls. We have
promised ourself to give Justice Mason
small job and we shall keep our
promise unless the reprehensible prac-
tice is stopped. We are not raising
onions for such "smarties." After a
little, we shall have them to give away,
but none to be stolen.
The following is clipping from the
Chicago Times: Bow Hackley, the
Michigan poet, author of De Massa
and de Sheepfold' and other dialect
poems, some of which have unusual
merit, contributes another to-day to
this column:
dreamt dat | saw de ribber of life
Dat flows to de Jaspah sea;
De angels war wadin' to an fro,
| But none oh 'em spoke to me-
Some dipped dere wings in de silv'ry
tide;
Some war alone an some side by side.
Nary a one dat knew could i see
In dat ribber of life,
De ribber of life
Dat flows to de Jaspah sea-"
We knew Bow was good barber, but
had no idea he was such melodious
poet.