The Battalion. (College Station, Tex.) 1893-current, January 01, 1894, Image 18

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sent a package on which he had no
claim. At last accounts he still had a
Christmas box for which he had no use,
while his Lansing sister-in-law held pos
session of a pair of high-grade trousers
w'hich were equally as much of a drug
on her hands.
JSlot tine JVTan.
Youth’s Campanion,
Bar Thomas Robinson was a tall, un
couth man, and his appearance was ren
dered still more striking by his hunting
dress, which consisted of a tight green
jacket, buckskin breeches and a postil
ion's cap.
He was liable to sudden whims and
once set off suddenly in his hunting
dress to pay a visit to his sister, who
was married and settled in Paris. He
arrived at the house while there was a
large company at dinner.
The servant announced M. Robinson,
and in walked this remarkable figure,
to the amazement of the guests.
One oi them, a French abbe, raised
his fork three times to his mouth and
each time laid it down without tasting
the food and with an air of intense be
wilderment. Unable at la=t to restrain
his curiosity longer, he brust out:
“Excuse me, monsieur, are you the
famous Robinson Crusoe, so remarkable
in history?”
The laugh with which this naive in
quiry was’ greeted for a time seemed to
add to the abbe’s perplexity until he
was assured of the identity of the strange
Detroit News-Tribune.
AVith flushed cheek and tearful eye
the child listened,
“And was my papa killed” she asked,
breathless with horror.
Her mother smoothed the golden hair
over the throbbing temples of the or*
“Y^es, my darling.’’ she answered.
‘‘He went as a missionary among the
“And did”—
And the little one buried her face in
her hands and shuddered.
‘‘those horrid people murder him
to eat him?”
The parent was weeping now. The
harrowing recital of her bereavement
had opened anew the wounds in her
“No, my child”—
It was with difficulty 7 that she spoke.
——-—“he undertook to umpire a base
ball game between the Epworth league
and the Sunday school teachers.”
For a time both were too overcome to
Odd Ways of Telling Distance..
Hartford Post.
I never have anyone ask me how far
it is to such and such a place without
thinking of a little incident which occur
red while I was down South in the army
under Kilpatrick. We were startingfor
Front Royal when the colonel sent me to
ask a man how far it was to Front Royal
The old man was leaning on a fence
when I approached him. When I asked
him my question he replied: “Three
runs, a jam and a right smart distance,
I reckon.” He said it in all seriousness.
We journeyed on to Front Royal and I
found out that the man had given us the
right distance, only we did not under
stand him. The three runs were three
streams which we Crossed, the jam was
a fork in the roads and the “right smart
distance, I reckon,” was a matter of
some miles.