15 
SEED-TIME AH© HARVEST. 
? — iM, - . .. ■■ - . . — — -y 1 " - - - - - .. " 
foster sickness and disease, because so 
many make a lining by the manufacture 
and sale of drugs and medicines, as to en¬ 
courage or spare the liquor traffic because 
so many find a living in it. Many more 
find death in it. The grain that is turned 
into the fiery poison will do much better 
service when turned into bread. The men 
who now sit behind a beer barrel and make 
a living by turning a faucet, will be better 
and more useful citizens when employed 
as actual producers. 
When less money is spent for beer and 
rum there will be more expended for food, 
fuel and clothing. In fact, the rum busi¬ 
ness is the foe of every honest calling. It 
lives by the destruction of all about it. He 
who spares it, spares the enemy of his 
race. Business men should come to the 
front in the temperance movement.— Rev . 
Jesse S. Gilbert, A. 3/., in Temperance Ga¬ 
zette. 
A Village of Terrors, 
A Detroiter who had business in a village 
in Washtenaw County drove out there in a 
buggy, and of course went to the inn for 
his dinner. The landlord made no inquiries 
until after the meal was eaten and paid for, 
* * # ; / 
and he then found opportunity to inquire: 
“Were you going out to ’Squire Brown’s 
place ?” 
“No.” 
“I didn’t know but you were a lightning- 
rod man, and I was going to say that the 
’Squire has threatened to shoot the next 
one on sight. We don’t go much on them 
fellers around here, and I’m glad you are 
somebody else. Maybe you are going over 
to Judge Hardy’s to sell him some fruit 
trees for Fall setting?” 
“No.” 
“Well, that’s lucky. Only yesterday the 
Judge was remarking to me that the next 
fruit-tree agent who entered his gate would 
want a coffin. Fact is, I myself have got 
to do some kicking to pay for being swin¬ 
dled on grape vines. You are not a patenb- 
right man, eh ?” 
“No.” 
“Well, that’s a narrow escape for you. 
We’ve been swindled here on hay forks,, 
cultivators, gates, pumps, churns and a 
dozen other things, and I’m keeping sixteen 
bad eggs for use when the next patent 
righter shows his face in this town. Per¬ 
haps you are a lecturer?” 
“Oh, no.” 
“Well, you haven’t lost anything. We 
never turn out very strong here to a lec¬ 
ture. The last man who struck us lectured 
on ‘Our Currency,’ but didn’t take in 
enough ©f it to pay me for his supper. 
You are not a book-canvasser ?” 
“No.” 
“That’s another escape. We’ve been laid 
out here so often that if an agent should 
' offer to sell a $20 Bible for fifty cents we’d 
suspect a trick to beat us. Strikes me now 
that you may be a lawyer.” 
“No.” 
“Good ’nuff. Last one who settled here 
had to leave town at midnight, and we 
don*t want any more. Say, what are you, 
anyway ?” 
“A politician,” replied the Detroiter. 
“A politician! Then git! For Heaven’s 
sake! don’t stand around here if you value 
your life! We’ve just impeached our pound- 
master for embezzling the public money, 
and the excitement is so intense that the 
Democrats will ride you on a rail or the 
Republicans duck you in the water-trough. 
Git right up and scoot!” 
“He lies like a tombstone and exagger¬ 
ates like a gas meter,” is a statement which 
illustrates the the extreme lengths of hy¬ 
perbole. 
A boy in a country school was reading 
the following sentence: “The light-house 
is a landmark by day and a beacon by 
night, and rendered it thus: “The light¬ 
house is a landlord by day and a deacon by 
night.” 
Look at Reed’s advertisement of Concord Grapes 
on page 25. Every reader of Seed-Time and Harvest 
should send a trial order for a dozen. You are sure 
to be pleased. Satisfaction guaranteed. 
Life is but an Inn, where travelers stay; 
Some only breakfast, and then away; 
Others to dinner stay, and are full fed; 
The oldest sup and go to bed; 
Long is his bill who lingers out the day, 
He who goes the soonest has the least to pay. 
—Old Epitaph. 
